Shredded Earth - OOC discussion.

IC Thread: http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=15679

Basic faction explanations:

Subterranean: The only remnants of any military presence on the planet. The Subterranean movement started because the Military had already established a number of underground safe houses. They have the most advanced weaponry out of any of the factions, or at the very least, the most weaponry.

Aside from this, there is very little left of the military sense of duty. Essentially the remnants are nothing more then a guerrilla regime that takes what they want from other groups and prefers to get their way with bullets before bargains. The majority of their forces stay together, protected from detection by miles of earth and stone, but are still vulnerable to the large, burrowing Xenomorph that rips through the earth.

Oceanic: Anyone and everyone that has a boat and spends most of their life on it falls into this category. They tend to be the safest of all the factions, but that's not saying much. While the Xenomorphs are less prevalent in the ocean, if you are greeted by a group, it is much more difficult to escape or hide. If the Xenomorphs are deadly on land, they are nightmares in the water.

Due to the environment in which they choose to live, Oceanic tend to have the hardest time maintaining technology and weaponry.

Nomad: Caravans, traveling troupes, Mad Max. All of these bring to mind key elements that make up the Nomads. Constantly on the move, fully mobile, the true definition of Scavengers. They move from place to place, find spots with anything valuable, strip what they can and move on before anyone can zero in on their position. They're the most social of all the groups, often trading with each other, and on rare occasion, the other factions whenever they can.

Dirty, gritty and often viewed by the other factions as second class (As if class meant anything anymore) the Nomads tend to either deal with the other factions with acceptance, trying to glean whatever little bits they can from them, or with open malice. Either way, whenever they meet another group, it's usually entertaining for both sides.

Air Born: A name given to themselves, this group is the closest thing to 'high society' left on Earth, no pun intended. They've managed to construct for themselves a society above it all, literally. Through a mixture of simple balloon technology and key placed pieces of more advanced hover and anti-gravitational technology, they've constructed several habitats that stay above the dangers of the planet.

While seemingly a key solution for all the survivors, the Air Born have given themselves the right to turn away any and all they deem inappropriate for their civilization, as well as 'banishing' any they so choose. Paradise is full of back stabbers and self servers, as all the other factions have come to know.

Character profile template:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Ethnicity:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Height:
Weight:
Birthplace:
Class: (What would best define your character? Pilot? Mechanic? Hunter? Soldier? Etc.)
Faction: (There are five factions. Subterranean, Oceanic, Nomad, Air Born and Independent. All fairly self explanatory.)
Preferred Weapon Types: (This is pretty free form. Anything that seems like it would be fairly realistic for 500 years passed modern day technology. But be reasonable. No heat seeking, pocket rail guns, please.)
Motto:

History:

Basic Xenomorph explanations:

The Swarm Hierarchy - Terrestrial Hunters, Aquatic Hunters and Parasites.

Terrestrial Hunters - They're the most common and most aggressive of the species, they're almost always seen in packs. They're quadrupeds with hard, stone like carapaces, no visible eyes or ears. Ranging in size from 2 feet for the youngest, to 7 feet for the largest recorded. Their limbs extend from just below the jaw line for the front set, and the rear set coming out about half way down the carapace.

Each limb is long, and rigid, with no feet. Instead, each one ends in a dagger like point, allowing for the tips to dig into any surface, as well as sunder food or anything else. The head is fairly simplistic, with a beak like mouth, ending in a sharp, curved tip at the top jaw, and a similar lower jaw, only the tip is split in two, allowing for the upper jaw to lock in perfectly. The Terrestrial Hunter's carapace colors vary depending on the terrain they're found in.

They prey upon any source of heat, or electricity they come across, attacking relentlessly until their prey is completely destroyed.

Aquatic Hunters - While not as commonly seen as the Terrestrial Hunters, they function much like their land bound cousins. Although their skin isn't as rigid and thick, it still provides a strong defense, while allowing them to maneuver quickly through the water. The sizes of the Aquatic Hunters range from 2 feet to a whopping 12 feet long, as the ocean allows them to grow to a greater size and still maintain their stealth and speed for the most part.

They have a set of small legs, similar to the Terrestrial Hunters, but rarely use them. They do not require oxygen of any sort, thus can function for long periods of time on both land and water, although clearly preferring the latter. They primarily use a series of long, rope like tendrils to capture and dismember their prey, and the number of tendrils they have depends on their size. The smallest only having two, while the largest could have a dozen or more. Each tendril lined with small, jagged 'teeth' that can cut through both metal and bone.

Parasites - These Xenomorphs are thought not to be a purposeful invader, but instead an accidental pest that clung to the larger Xenomorph breeds, much like fleas on a dog.

The Parasites range in size from that of a common house fly, to ones the size of a small dog. They do not have limbs in the traditional sense, but can leap great distances by constricting their bodies and launching themselves forward with deadly accuracy. They appear similar to that of a meal worm covered in rigid spines, with a large, razor toothed mouth.

They feed on the various fluids that can be found in any living creature, any moisture. The more moisture one of these Parasites consumes, the thicker their skin becomes and the harder it is to kill them. Many a human has become a short term host to one of these Parasites and become nothing more then bone and dust within days, if not hours.

Name: Rodney Jeffkins
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Native American, Caucasian.
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height: 6'
Weight: 195 lbs
Birthplace: Las Vegas, Nevada
Class: Pilot
Faction: Independent, former Air Born.
Preferred Weapon Types: Pump-action Shotgun, and Pistol sidearm.
Motto: "There ain't no rest for the wicked, and I haven't slept all week."

History: A former member of the Air Born, Rodney was one of the few pilots the faction employed. While the safest of all the factions, it would be foolish for the Air Born to not employ some form of protection. They functioned as both the military and the police for the settlements. He was responsible for transporting those that the city wanted to banish to the surface, as well as the occasional meeting with other factions for trade agreements. Surprisingly, he was asked to do both equally as often.

Born into a military station, and a second class citizenship, Rodney's family was not particularly remarkable as far as the Air Born were concerned. His father a career man, his mother a career man's wife, as silly a concept as it was in the world they lived in. Rodney followed in his father's foot steps, as was expected, and worked as a Pilot and mechanic, doing his part in keeping their little paradise above the real world. When he was old enough, he took his father's place as a Pilot for the 'state'. He commanded a small regiment, only a dozen or so pilots and planes, more than enough for the small city in the air.

He spent much of his adult life in monotany, but was kept in comfort along with his family. His career path provided them all with the same home, as there was not enough space or resources to make more for the ever growing population. He caught the eye of more then a few of the women of the colony, but never chose to settle down with one in particular. Most felt that was due to his focus on his work, which was only partly the case.

After having to take one particular citizen of the Air Born into banishment, Rodney didn't come back. He took his plane and vanished. At least, as far as the Air Born cared, he'd vanished. Rodney had simply gotten sick of their way of living and taken to try and whittle out a life for himself high in the mountainous regions of North America. The Rockies were too far out of the way for most of the Xenomorphs to care to look, and while the air wasn't the cleanest, it was preferred to death by alien mutilation.

He spends most of his time scavenging, using his stolen plane to investigate areas much faster then most ground transport.

Name: “Psy” Armstrong
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Mixed – black (“African-American”)/Scottish
Hair Color: Dark brown
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 160lbs
Birthplace: Youngstown, Pennsylvania
Class: Medic
Faction: Nomad
Preferred Weapon Type(s): 7” XX WWIII Trench Knife
Motto: Invictus Maneo - I remain unvanquished.

History: Psy grew up with her single mother scavenging from one end of the Gulf Coast to the other. She has no virtually no knowledge of her extended families both on her mother and father's side. Her mother told her that her father was killed when Psy was just an infant but left the details at that. She wears his black ouroboros necklace in his memory with her motto inscribed on the back.

At the age of 12, she watched her mother get gunned down by members of the Subterranean. Their goal was not to kill Leandra Tucker – only to make her suffer. And suffer she did for the next 4 days. Despite Psy’s efforts to find anything and anyone to help her mother, Leandra died in her daughter’s arms. Hours before she passed, she gave her daughter an envelope with the word “Wings” on the outside. “The truth is inside,” she said. Psy has yet to open the envelope even 17 years later.

Her mother’s death directed her to the field of medicine – what was left of it and what was available to her. Regardless of the educational shortcomings, she’s one of the most skilled medics in the Nomads. She’s know for her ability to improvise and make due in a bind. With scarce resources, it’s the least she can do.

Despite the lifestyle she’s force to live in, she does maintain some sense of moral superiority. She’s recently struck out on her own after the last band she was wandering with killed a mother and her 2 small children without provocation. It is more dangerous for her to be traveling alone, but she's on the search to find another small group to attach herself too. Her abilities as a medic will be a powerful bargaining tool, as long as they give her time to illustrate how she can benefit the group.

Name: Yllet Moss, goes by Moss
Age: 21
Gender: M
Ethnicity: French-Canadian / Russian
Hair Color: Varied Brown
Eye Color: Hazelnut/Green
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 151 lbs
Birthplace: North of Edmonton, Canada / Rural
Class: Mechanic/Pilot – Was a Biped mechanic
Faction: Former Subterranean
Preferred Weapon Types: Rifles – uses an old scoped hunting rifle
Motto: "What?"

History: Yllet's father had been a well-known wartime mechanic back in Russia, but after he moved to Canada hoping for a more fulfilling career, he found that his skills as a mechanic were far-removed from North American technology. Initially, this did not phase him, and he had persevered, eventually owning a small gunsmith and workshop in a rural community, where he met Yllet's mother. But soon came hard times. Yllet's parents did not have enough money to continue supporting him and so had him enlist in the military as a mechanic. From a young age, Yllet had been a quick learner, and by the time he was about 19, he was already an adept mechanic.

He was installed in an airbase in western Canada, to work on North American Bipedal units. On one particular occasion, he was asked to fix a broken balancing chamber in one of the older units. Instead of simply replacing the part, Yllet installed a balancer of his own design and adjusted the computer systems. When the biped was powered up again, it was found to be more agile than several of the newer models. While this was potentially an enormous advance in military autonomic technology, Yllet suffered a court-martial and dishonorably discharged for ignoring direct orders. Infuriated, Yllet snuck his way back into the section of the airbase wherein sat the biped he had upgraded. He climbed into the unit and took off, both demonstrating his ability as a technician and sending him straight into the Subterranean Black List.

Dead?