I've been thinking about my characters possible back story, I got the idea from the thread "What does your pilot look like_" and since i get easily sidetracked, I decided to make this thread!
So I'll start: *clears throat* Juodvarnis - mercenary. He came to this place looking for money and fame. Didn't care what the job was, he'd take anything... As long as they paid enough. However, everything changed... He failed, for the first time in his career, he failed... It was a bounty, against an other merc. At first, everything was going according to plan, Juodvarnis cornered him and was about to finish him off but the target had an ace up his sleeve. Target sent out an EMP blast. Juodvarnis was shocked when his mech's weapons powered down, he tried to retreat, but it was too late. Last thing he saw, was a TOW rocket going straight at him... His mech exploded, leaving him in pieces. He was but a grotesque sack of meat: shattering glass ripped his right eye, pieces of his mech's cockpit impaled him through his torso, ruining his lungs, he lost his both arms and legs. He then woke up in a strange shack, at first he thought it was just a dream, a nightmare - it wasn't, he soon realised that it was all real. Most of his body was replaced by tech, his lungs, his eye, most of his torso and his limbs. He rolled off the table he awoke on, causing a loud thud. He stood up and shambled to the door. There was a note: "Just returning the favor. - Old Friend". Juodvarnis opened the doors and vowed to hunt his last bounty, even if it's the last thing he does. He succeeded this time, but he didn't take the money for the job...
I also made a new pic of my character (with MS paint still ) to accompany his background
So what about yours_
Edited by Juodvarnis, December 30 2012 - 01:58 AM.
The cloud of dust above my bed was just another sign of patrol during the night. The hunt for the Proskian mercenary has kept people in the 7A sector completely uneasy. Since they've lost all influence over this mining area, there have been plenty of attempts to bring about another migration from the area, no matter the cost. No matter the casualties, but since the Vitrolium Wars, why would they even care if a few citizens went down_
I made my way to the filtered window. The desert sun was severely painful for those without protective vision. It seemed everything we see these days is through some sort of diluted image. A tap on the window brings up the work schedule. Charlie is out again. They say it's viral meningitis, but last time I checked, a throat infection doesn't leave you crippled on the floor, spitting blood. They say he will be sent to a more developed sector for better care. Now I send them checks that reach them months apart, hoping they found better life than this mining colony sector.
They say alot of things.
I seal my cap on and watch as the pin falls out. What was once my first strip of honor is now the only thing I keep from the past. Another token of better times. I hold on what is left of my identity before the war, when I was a family man. When I could come home from patrol and kiss my kids to sleep. I could read a bed time story and not have to keep the gun in my holster. I could tell my wife we've secured a future here and I wouldn't be lying.
The elevator screeches to a stop. Aboard are the same unresponsive faces of the past year. Off to risk our lives with boiling hot fuel flying from the ground, nano virus that can spread at the slightest epidermal exposure, and to follow the rules set down by a greedy company that enforces martial law. Their glazed eyes forced downwards by the burden of contracts they could not escape for themselves or for loved ones. Each jacket reads Sentium Co., as if we were just the property of our employers, and there is no reason to engage the thoughts, as my fingers run over my own logo. Might as well say, "Made in Illial" on my as....The elevator hits the bottom deck. you could almost hear the heart beats synchronize. The elevator doors open to the planet's surface, a slight breeze hits my helmet as I try to forget the dirt smacking my visor will not be destroying my lungs today.
I make my way over to my mech, it's drill gun has been placed in the same hole Charlie left. I strap in and turn what we've called, "The Crud Bucket" on for another day. At this point we're just guessing where these wells could be.
The drill feed continues downward. The roar is the only time I can scream my thoughts, since they turn off my mic. If only Charlie was still listening to my ramblings...
"THESE PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ANYTHING..."
I can feel the weight pressure against the controllers of the right arm. The sound, however is not stopping me from hearing myself think.
WE CAME SO ILL-PREPARED THAT THEY ARE OUT OF THEIR MINDS! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE PILOTING,
The warning buzzer sounds for overheating...
I hear the soft chatter over the radio, the first of plenty of orders to be barked into my ear for the day, "tune it down out there, Mykep. You can't afford another mech."
The voice of Commander Witfield was more than an annoyance, it was a tick on a very loud clock, counting down the moments before you go insane out here. The atmosphere is tense enough, then an irritable war criminal repeatedly reminds you of your status in this life..."Sir."
The Chum Bucket was a light mech, not battle capable. I don't think any of the mining mechs are. Boosters were taken off for the Patrolling mechs. I feed another barrel into the drill, whilst thinking only about feeding a Vulcan round into Witfield. Retired scum. He paces back and forth through the yards, pretending he's leading his own unit once more. Armed with only an EMP round, he'd smack your mech with it and watch as you get blitzed by his twenty men. It's a psychological thing. He WANTED you to make a move. He wants to beat you within an inch of your life. He WANTS to feed you Hawken and label it another "casualty in the pursuit of bettering our civilization."
Scum. Commander Whitfield, our decorated 7A Sector Zone Leader. Along with his trusted pansy of a child, who leads the mech division patrolling the outskirts of the city, Thomas Whitfield, you had enough fuzzy bunny to clean out a decent portion of this planet.
And they said, "Come See Paradise!" On the brochure over here.
Not before long, we were asked to take rests on the first deck. This was of course taken in silence, yet for some reason, I had this reverberating...It wasn't an alarm...
I dipped into what they called, "Mashed potatoes"
Is it screaming_ No...
The juice smells oddly familiar to what I emptied into the urinal this morning.
Oh I know! It's the high frequency take off sound of a,
"HIT THE DECK!"
My movement was premature. A hellfire missile smacked the right side of the cafeteria. My helmet was already on, and my stomach was to the ground. The air was breathable but if it were a nano virus missile, I'd simply be waiting for death. I watched in the distance as The Chum Bucket took off to the outskirts of the zone. A drill had been deeply lodged into the cockpit of a Bruiser, Medium Build. It was like I was watching my own dark dreams come to life. Chum Bucket was holding a barrell and swinging it like a bat at a tripped mech. Bullets smacked the backside of it. For all I knew, I was dreaming, until a hand ripped me away from the view of the fight. To the side, I saw but grey hair and glasses. I attempted to turn my head but my helmet was on backwards. I could only see a white lab coat covered in blood. This...man, finally spoke to me
"Cliche, but there is no time to explain. Take the swipe key and make your way to the garage. Go to your spot."
He turned to me for a brief moment to hand a manilla envelope and pushed me through a security personell doorway. The hall was half lit, and the doorway back didn't seem to cooperate...as if someone was holding on to the other side.
"Crazy old goat! You'll get us both killed!"
The panic didnt set in, until the building shook and a light flickered. I could feel a card in the envelope... I don't know if it was instinct or stupidity, but I walked forward. The hall seemed so small, as I reached my hand into the package, and swoped the card in one swift motion. The red light snapped green, and the destination button was already lit.
The elevator wasn't moving forward, it was moving....sideways. The L shaped building had me going parallel to the ground, towards the garage. I slipped my helmet off to turn it forwards, but I dropped the envelope. From the edge of the package, was a glimmer of light. I picked up what was a small pin. My pin. It was my WG-16 pin. The elevator door opened to the mech storage bay, It was the abandoned garage. I reached back into my enevelope, to pull out what resembled a miniature bop-it button: pressable on both sides. I held it up, closed my eyes and clicked it.
The roar of a familiar mech sounded in the distance.
I walked through the hangar, to find a repaired Assault mech. It was...beautiful. The color scheme was an orange tinted camo, and the outside resembled the ol' Wandering Guns body type. What was going on was still a mystery, but the ladder to the fuzzy bunny pit seemed just fine. I climbed in to find the fuel on full. This was no coincidence.
To the right of the head rest was speaker, and under it there was a connected USB drive. The glass head frame closed as a metal protective gauntlet closed around the top, exposing only my necessary view. I flipped the switch on the prompt to listen to the transmission.
*Crack*****AI b.4.5 23_005917 Message posted...
Hey Mykep, it's Charlie *cough* sorry I cant be there to see your face when you find this thing. Real beaut, huh_ Listen, I never had a family, and I sure as hell did see you as a brother, so I wanted to get you back in action...I wanted *cough* to be your wingman. Hey, maybe on the next planet, huh_ ...Tzzzz... Listen, Dr. Brimley here says the Hawken virus isn't going to be stopping anytime soon. That, someone out there needs to find this...woman. She's his last test subject. I haven't shut up about you since I've been in the ward, and Brimsley says that I...well, *the coughing continues till there is spitting* I'm not too good. I hope you check the radio station. I wouldn't want you leaving without a good song to bury these candyasses with. Say hello to Theresa to me, and kiss your kids... *a yelp of pain is heard* I think I'm going to give the Bucket one last...good...run...
I wipe a tear from my eye, and look at the controls. It's all there. Not to mention the fact that Charlie kinda put me on the spot right now. I smirked at the thought of looking at my wife...Charlie, you fuzzy bunny. I'll see what I can do...
"Lets see what this goof left me with....
The shadows covered the majority of my face, but nothing could hide that resonating smirk. The two joy sticks moved forward in a heap, and I felt the weight of the mech. heavier than the Bucket, but fast...and turns REAAAL smooth. I mooved up the launch road, and crashed through the barrier. I smacked the ground with a sheer force of several dozen tons. I felt the shocks absorb everything, and I took off, full boost towards the scene from before. I turned the corner of the 'L' of Sector 7A, and looked out towards the fields. It was a bunch of scattered, deserted homes with drills poking from above. Far to the right, was a crowd of mechs, most likely gathered around the Bucket...with Charlie inside. In the back of my sound system, was the faint sound of radio chatter. That was when I looked down. There, under my foot was the mech with a drill through it's cockpit. The pilot...in half.
It was then that I realized they were most likely not going to keep peace with some of the civilian staff in Sector 7A. No, that this sector would turn into like dozens of others. "A momentary loss of connection has results in what appears to be a catastrophic fall to the Hawken virus. We mourn for those lost and pray for their families."
I boosted into the field of view, and spotted the four man patrol. A flag mech at the helm. All facing downwards, emptying their clips. I aimed high and hoped for a decent arc, and fired an EMP shot through the air. I followed the shot to its destination, it touched-down early, but close enough. I emptied Flak into the left leg of a Bruiser, the sudden charge, left the pilot apparently befuttled, as he went down like a ton of bricks. I lobbed a grenade form my internal core launch, it denated as my G-Launcher caught the front half of a mech pilot that HAD reasonable respond time. I shot a glance left, as Whitfield and an Infiltrator mech shot to the cover of the drilling fields. I emptied the remainder of my Flak at the other Bruiser. It's center system fell face first to the floor.
I turned 180 to approach the field. By now, the remaining units have most likely regained thier engaging operating systems. I was short a grenade, but kept my defensive design close to the trigger. I left my fuel on full as I approached corners. I kept silent as I heard the Voice Command issue a response, "Recieving Radio Signal." I accepted the feed.
The whiny voice of Thomas shot out of my speakers, "Identify yourself! You're build and make are Sentium property! You have deliberately opened fire in a civilian operating zone OWNED by Sentium! IDENTIFY"
Sentium_ Yes, Civilian_ No. You've been operating this zone, and I plan to remove you from it.
The radio had no leads. They were either still, or shutdown...I peered down another row of abandoned buildings.
"You have yet to identify yourself! You are ordered to stand down!"
The click of a gun popped behind me.
I'm tired of orders...
I boosted 180, and popped my G-Launcher into the shadow of a building to my rear. An explosion confirmed the infiltrators position. Spotted, it began to open fire. I boosted left behind cover as the roar of a Brawler ran down my adjacent row to my cover. I blinked. I blinked for the longest point five seconds of my life, and then I jumped. I boosted up to the roof, and it held me. I ran the course of the building to the flank of the Infiltrator. I landed to his back right. He attempted to boost, forwards but, he caught the crossfire of Whitfield's Brawler. I finished a clip of Flak into him and a G-Launcher into the retreating mech. It's fate unknown. A pocket of air sipped through the left of my cockpit as Whitfield caught me as well.
WHERE ARE YOUR PARTNERS. WHO ORDERED THE HELLFIRE.
The line slipped through my ears as I popped the shield. The dumb goat moved forward through theraised smoke as he emptied everything he had in my direction. The building that stood to my side just moments ago fell tomy front. Thats when the REAL song I wanted to listen to popped on. Through his screaming, Thomas must have missed the overheating warnings, and as I boosted over the rubble, I saw a crouched heavy mech kneeling to my height. I placed the G-Launcher to the cockpit...and pulled the trigger. The proximity of the shot didnt cause it to explode, but did crush the pit. I faint squeal was heard, but I couldn't tell if it was Thomas' end or my giddiness. From Sector 7A, a faint explosion was heard, I boosted forward for procaution. I placed myself inbetween two buildings. I leaned my head back for a breather, but it was short lived. From above, a soft click was heard through the bloodcurdling screams. The Commander had taken another drilling mech, and had clawed his way to a high position. His EMP cannon was launched from his own hand, and his cockpit was open. My mech shut down. My mission shortlived. This old coon was always going to be my end. As he landed in front of me with a drill in his hand, I reminised on how I felt over the body of the Bruiser with a drill through it, and how the father of a lost son would probably be a greater feeling. His blood lust was dripping over his microphone. His speaker was on so that he could share this last moment with me even if I was EMP'd cornered against the house, I prepared my boost for a sideways thrust. I watched as the right mechanical arm raised behind, make-shift javelin in hand. I reached both sticks outward, but before pushing, I heard the thundering pop of the mech infront of me. The entire protective glass was covered red. The right side was split open, and the mech began to slowly fall to its left side. My battle operating system came back online and I prepared for the worst.....Sharpshooter. Out in the distance, was a bright blue dot. Prosk. I formulated a removal from the zone and took off for cover, as I moved torwards the other side of Section 7A, I passed the Infiltrator. A similar shot to the side of its head left the body in ruins.
From this point, I had no idea what to do. I took off in a heat. I had no idea where I was going ,nor did I have any direction. I didn't know if I would be followed or if Section 7A would be Prosk. I didn't know how I'd find my family, or if I would make it out of the desert. I don't even know where to start looking for the girl. All I knew...was that this baby was FAST.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I hope you realise your story contains several details only privy to Alpha testers and may violate the NDA... (Like that stuff about the names of the mechs, which haven't been made official yet.) Might want to hide that temporarily.
Edited by Conquistador, October 20 2012 - 12:48 AM.
Her eyes slowly opened as she lay on the ground. Her head throbbing as she woke up amidst the chaos of the citizens running hysterically around her. Her ears ringing, assuming from whatever had previously knocked her to that unconscious state. She stared blankly across the chaos of war, just as she gained her bearings, a metal foot stomped in front of her. Out of instinct she got up to run. Just as she stood, a giant explosion against the metal machine. She quickly dived out of the way. The Mech turned to her as if noticing another being was near. It ran to her and used itself as a body shield for another incoming explosion. The girl stared up in fear, wondering as to why it was risking its life for her. The machine turned back towards its shooters and shot back peeling off some of the enemies. It knelt down and the cockpit opened. To her amazement, another human just like herself was inside it. She smiled, finally someone she can rely on. As he motioned for her to come inside the cockpit. She was about to reach for his arms when... he fell to the ground...dead. Her eyes teared up. The one person who held out their hand trying to save her.. out of all the people. She felt anger rise up in her and found herself picking at his pockets for any memoir items for her to keep safe...anything to keep him in her memories. Into the cockpit she went. Pressing buttons around here and there as if she knew how to drive it. How_ .... She couldn't remember but only the one man who saved her life.She took to the controls as if she'd done it for years. Why_...all her memories were jumbled.. All she knew in her head.. was to survive. Not only for herself but because of the life she now was in debt to... for him. The friend she could never know.
She made it past the first day...her new mecha... a tool of survival. She was in what seemed like a ghost town... hiding out in what was left of the convenience store she found. Was she so fortunate to even have a fighting chance_ She then, dug into her pockets finding pictures of herself on military ships with a man who had the same color hair and looks as herself. Hair color.. She noticed the black hair on her head.... Then looked at the broken shop window reflection..white. Her hair.. was white but why. Who was this man in the picture. 'A relative' she thought... but that's all her memory could recall. Glass breaks! She turns around quickly. Nothing. She peers back. front. back front. 'Who...or what could it be..' she thought. She then flung a knife towards the back wall entrance. "Oh hoh hoh... whoever threw this has some skills... but will they be good enough to face against the Black Tiger_!" said the voice of what belonged to the arm of a Dark skinned man who pulled the dagger out of the wall. He appeared out from behind the emergency exit.
"I thought I heard some rustling in here" he calmly said with a kind smirk and a wink.
He didn't seem threatening including since he had a gang of people following behind him who seemed somewhat like a skateboarding group with scraggly rebellious types. The girl of the group walked over to her and bent down slightly to her height as she was a bit short. "Hey kid... what's your name.._" a bit strange for you to be out here by yourself....
She stared blankly into the woman's eyes and spoke for what seemed like the first time "I'm not a kid... and I don't remember my name"
The black man walked over... "ah... I see so this is how you managed to survive.." he said as he glanced up at the mecha huddled up in a nearby corner. The woman continued, "My name is June... we're a military squad.. or at least what is left of it.. we're trying to restock on whatever supplies we can find... " The man with the dark skin joined them and smiled a friendly smile... he was a bit on the chubby side and always made a light hearted chuckle here and there for no reason. She stared at him. The man said "I'm Bub.. they call me the Black Tiger.. because when we fight I always leave my marks on my enemies like they are my claws. Heh." The woman nearby him rolled her eyes. Bub patted the young girl's head... sincerely saying "you are lucky to have survived such a calamity... there was hardly any people left..." You Girl... will join us. No ifs and or buts. Girl...."Girl.." she finally spoke. She figured since she couldn't remember her name... thats just the nickname she'd settle with. I am "Girl."
They were now at a campfire together. One of the men was a medic and placed a syringe into Girl's forearm. He placed the blood he pulled into some sort of color indicating viles. "strange... " he said. June and Bub looked at him. June asked "What is it Edman_" Edman shook the vile trying to discern something. "It's strange but... it seems this girl was infected by the Hawken virus... strangely enough she isn't dead and it's now inactive in her bloodstream. And judging from her past photo she showed me to her white hair... it seems like the virus has some sort of a different affect on her than it does on normal people and might have something to do with her memory loss."
Bub made a warm smile .... "Then we'll create new memories.. to help celebrate her survival"
The girl made an acknowledging half smile at Bub... then changed back into her serious blank state staring at the bonfire...
'survival.... ' the only purpose she now had in this world. Survival.. by fighting.
1
) to accompany his background 
