Black Lagoon Anime/Manga based RPG (Revised, NC:H, action oriented)

Started by Daril, June 05, 2015, 12:42:44 PM

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Writersblockade

Name: Cassius "Cash" Walker
Age: 44
Nationality: American
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Biography:
Cash spent his time during the Vietnam war in the Navy. He mostly spent it on the deck of a PT boat disrupting supply lines and running arms from one patch of jungle to the other. Taking fire from both sides of the river was an everyday occurrence, but casualties were fairly low, due to his LT Jack "Razorback" Thompson. Jack believed, and Cash would later use this very model, that wars come and go, but the lives of those he served under were the most important. It wasn't about getting everyone home more so than it was making sure that if they couldn't go home, that it be for the right reasons.

The philosophy hadn't killed Jack as much as dumb luck gone bad. During a resupply drop, the enemy had gotten the drop on them and the Marines they were supplying. It was a large force that was diverting it's troops to avoid US forces lying in wait. They had no idea the resupply was happening until they chanced upon it. Cash was manning a machine gun on the deck, laying down as much cover fire as he could in the dense jungle, while Jack piled as many bodies on the boat as it could take. He took a round right between the shoulder blades while loading a wounded man on board. The last sight Cash had of his friend and mentor was of his body floating lifeless in shallow waters. From time to time, it still managed to haunt him.

Jack got a medal. So did he, though it somehow didn't mean much. They say his quick thinking after Jack went down saved lives. He took it as just finishing what the man started, but that didn't matter. He served the rest of his tour running his own boat and applying those same ideals. It was the best he could do for the memory of someone history would forget all too soon. His tactics changed, however. He researched some of the best pirates in history to gleam whatever knowledge he could on how to do the job better. He turned his crew into true smugglers, and was often called on the most sensitive of drops. Some of those drops were without a doubt agency related. Secret men in too-clean BDUs pretending to be something everyone else knew they weren't. It was ridiculous, but orders were orders, and the jobs got done.

The agency hadn't forgotten him though. After his tour, they found him wasting away on an island. Girls, booze, and random acts of violence were the bread and water of a man too out of his mind to go home, but the suit said he had a mission for him that paid if he was willing to not ask questions. Apparently they were in a market for someone who knew how to get in and out of places quietly and with minimum loses. What could Cash do? Even with the cost of things being so cheap, the coffers were starting to run low, and he could use the scratch. One job turned to two, then to four. Time flew without him realizing it, until his crew eventually got burned. Cold war secrets were traded like baseball cards, and word of their shipment was in the wind.

Half his crew went out the hard way, and Cash had to drive a limping boat back with one good arm while his shoulder filled the cabin with the smell of burning flesh. To say that he and the agency had a falling out would be putting it mildly, but good resources were hard to find, and so were paying customers. Like it or not, they were tied together. Once Cash took enough time to see it, the truth took a few bottles of rum to swallow. Funny enough, no one took notice of the boat after the incident. That was one good thing about working with a shady entity. They kept just enough of an eye on Cash to know that he wasn't talking, and more importantly, no one was looking.

With the good news of not having to look out for a hit squad at his door in the immediate future, Cash paid his remaining members and told them to scatter. He honestly couldn't risk using them. He was going to stay in the transport business, and he was going to do it right, from the ground up. From there, Pacific Logistics was born. He spent his savings refitting the boat and adding a few helpful extras and quietly put the word out that he was hiring. His next crew was going to have to be more than mere cut-throats. To survive when things went bad, he'd need those that have already seen their share of shit.

Personality: Cool, calm, and collected. Forcibly so, because the results of him losing it was exactly what put him in the situation he's in now. When not on a job, he's very laid back about how the crew would enjoy themselves. His only rule is that if there's anything unlawful done while in-between jobs, that it not be traced back to him, the crew, or the boat. Especially the boat. You lie in the bed you've made, or you'll find yourself out at best, and very out at the worst.

Appearance: 6'2" African American male. No discernable tattoos. Burn scar on his left shoulder from a botched mission. He keeps it there as a reminder

Weapon(s) of choice:
Glock 18 w. Extended Clip
Remington 870 Marine Magnum Shotgun

Fighting style/tactics: Picked up Muay Thai after his tour and it's his choice of fighting style. Tactically, he strives to keep his crew and boat out of trouble that doesn't pay in advance. In a firefight, he'd much rather withdraw slowly, instead of taking a stand. Most of his battles were always against overwhelming numbers, and a tactical retreat meant you lived after killing a few of them. If he had to set up a stand a fight scenario, someone would be holding a dead man's switch to explosives to bring the place down on everyone. If his people can't go home, nobody's going home.
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Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

Hmmm.  Is there any way to make him a bit less "Dutch"?  Not sure that was your intention but the characters do seem awfully similar...

Writersblockade

Yeah, that was totally the intent, but why go less dutch? We're basing this on lagoon, right? Of not, then you'll need to give me more info. Let me know what you're looking for, bud.
Story Lottery Profile
Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

I was planning to use Black Lagoon's setting with OC characters.  But I wasn't planning to use the OC characters as replacements for canon characters.  The canon characters are presumably still around, they're just not the main focus of this rpg.  Hence why I don't want the new characters to be too similar.

Do you think you can work with that?

Writersblockade

Hmmm... okay, I understand. Give me a little time to rethink the character. It's tough because I love the guy so much lol. I'm getting a few whispers from my muse though. She thinks we'll be okay.
Story Lottery Profile
Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

One thing we should also consider is what sort of boat the crew will have.  I was leaning towards something more "civilian" than the Lagoon Company's torpedo boat, but with my limited knowledge of watercraft I'm having trouble coming up with a civilian craft that seems like a good choice in terms of size and speed.  So I've ended up back among ex naval craft.  I was thinking of using a heavily modified Vietnam era "Nasty" patrol boat that had been rebuilt and repainted into a more civilian looking configuration (inspired by a patrol boat based yacht in the UK).  Another option might be to use a Soviet or Chinese torpedo/gunboat -the Chinese built hundreds of such craft over the years.

Sessha

 Interestingly enough there is a way to pull of a PT Boat in this day and age. During WW2 the US sold PT boats to many allied nations and while all the ones the US used were torched many of the nations who bought them are still using them to this day. Though after looking it over I'd say an old Vietnam era PTF Nasty would be a fine boat to use.
Locked, cocked and ready to rock!


Writersblockade

*smiles* okay, try this one on for size. I admit, I went a little overboard on the bio, but when my muse takes a hold of something, she won't let it go. If I force her to, then she pouts and I get shit until I somehow make it up to her. da hell.

Cassius "Cash" Walker

6'2" 190lbs
African American
Weapons of Choice
Glock 18 w. Extended Clip
http://www.militaryfactory.com/smallarms/detail.asp?smallarms_id=495
HK MP5-N w. suppressor
-has a mix of subsonic and standard 9mm loadouts, depending on the mission.

Name: Cassius "Cash" Walker
Age: 44
Nationality: American
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Biography:
Cash spent his time during the Vietnam war in the Navy. He mostly spent it on the deck of a PT boat disrupting supply lines and running arms from one patch of jungle to the other. Taking fire from both sides of the river was an everyday occurrence, but casualties were fairly low, due to his LT Jack "Razorback" Thompson. Jack believed that wars come and go, but the lives of those he served under were the most important. It wasn't about getting everyone home more so than it was making sure that if they couldn't go home, that it be for the right reasons.

Cassius, on the other hand, was more cynical than that. He wasn't there for God or country, least of all the country that would rather see him killed in a country they didn't give a shit about than be happy in his own. He'd seen the reports. Racial tensions at its highest, people like him running up north to Canada to escape the draft. It put a different spin on life for him. It wasn't his war...he didn't slap a Vietnamese and tell them how they should run their damn country, but here he was and there they was. And that was all there was to it. An idea came to him when he noticed grunts bitching about the lack of good smokes, since the country's version was pure shit. That got Cash's gears turning.

The way he saw it, people were making money on this whole thing. The shit cigs they sold were selling because that was all that was there. The key was to keep his ear to the ground and listen to the sound of the herd. Motherfuckers were out there getting their asses blown to hell and back, and they couldn't even get a pack of Winstons for their trouble? Fuck that! That was more un-American than any of the propaganda the commies were throwing their way. So in the spirit of America and the almighty dollar, Cash made sure to include a few "extras" on his excursions out.

There was money to be made. Soldiers were getting paid, and had nowhere to spend it half the time. Getting any piece of leave was more rare than getting ass without itching afterwards, which was where he came in. He started with a few cartons of cigs, and some joints. Nothing hardcore. A little at a time was all he needed to keep his own little train a chuggin'. The problem with success, though, was the possibilities it lay before you, and the greed it prodded awake with a gold tip stick. Some strange twist of fate would give him the opportunity to expand.

See, Jack's philosophy hadn't killed Jack as much as his penchant for self-sacrifice. During a resupply drop, the enemy had gotten the drop on them and the Marines they were supplying. It was a large force that was diverting it's troops to avoid US forces lying in wait. They had no idea the resupply was happening until they chanced upon it. Cash was working out a sweet little deal for some half used titty mags when they hit. The urge to live carried his feet straight to the machine gun on the deck, where he then laid down as much cover fire as he could in the dense jungle. Jack was pilling as many bodies on the boat as it could take,  but ended up taking a round right between the shoulder blades while loading a wounded man on board. The last sight Cash had of the guy was of his body floating lifeless in the shallow water.

He'd drink to the poor bastard's memory, then follow it up with another for the lesson the death taught him. The only way you could save others was to save yourself. Who knows how many more kids that guy could have helped if he hadn't put his ass completely out in the breeze? So some guy who bought the fucking farm anyway could have a few more seconds of life? Fuck that. Jack got a medal out of it. So did he, amazingly. He kept it somewhere...he forgot where. He couldn't melt it down, and it was only worth something to the dicks who wanted to pretend they saw the big grey ass of the elephant.

Some of the brass called him a hero. Said his quick thinking after Jack went down saved lives. He took it as just trying to survive, but that didn't matter. They gave him the boat, and he made it his personal ice cream truck. He served the best, the worst, and the blank-eyed in betweeners. if it wasn't cash, it was shit he could turn to cash quick. The money was piling in so many places, he couldn't hide it all. He had to switch tactics, and focused on getting the money to a bank without attracting attention. Turns out that was easier than he thought. They had a whole delivery system for getting unmentionables out of the country. He paid the price for the delivery, and spaced that shit out in case something disappeared, and that kept things flowing even better. He turned his crew into true smugglers, and because of it was actually called on the most sensitive of drops! Who knew being a sneaky bastard could be useful on so many levels!?

Some of those drops were without a doubt agency related. Secret men in too-clean BDUs pretending to be something everyone else knew they weren't. It was ridiculous, but orders were orders, and the jobs got done. They gave him funny looks sometimes. Like they knew...they probably did, but they already had their fingers and dicks into so much shit, some small time guy like him probably didn't warrant the attention. It all went fairly flawless. For god's sakes they had payments made to certain guys on the other fucking side for safe passage! The whole damn thing was a meat-grinding circus, and he couldn't tell if he was the monkey, or the motherfucker cranking the box.

When it was time to leave, he did so with pockets full and head raised high. He didn't go home. Couldn't. War, even with his outlook on life, changed certain people in certain ways. The allure of the nine to five, thanksgivings with the family, and baseball hadn't pulled on his heartstrings. He liked the place. He just didn't like where it stood at the time. He found a few islands to hop. He had an assortment of girls, booze, and random acts of violence to kill time with, but the day he saw some suit sitting across from him after a particularly nasty bender, he knew it must have been time to pay the piper.

The guy said he had a mission for him that paid if he was willing to not ask questions. Apparently they were in a market for someone who knew how to get in and out of places quietly and with minimum loses. What could Cash do? Even with the cost of things being so cheap, the money he'd saved was only going to get him so far before it started to run low, and he could use the spending money. One job turned to two, then to four. Time flew without him realizing it, until his crew eventually got burned. Cold war secrets were traded like baseball cards, and word of their shipment was in the wind.

Half his crew went out the hard way, and Cash had to drive a limping boat back with one good arm while his shoulder filled the cabin with the smell of burning flesh. To say that he and the agency had a falling out would be putting it mildly, but good resources were hard to find, and so were paying customers. Like it or not, they were tied together. Once Cash took enough time to see it, the truth took a few bottles of rum to swallow. Funny enough, no one took notice of the boat after the incident. That was one good thing about working with a shady entity. They kept just enough of an eye on Cash to know that he wasn't talking, and more importantly, no one was looking.

With the good news of not having to look out for a hit squad at his door in the immediate future, Cash paid his remaining members and told them to scatter. He honestly couldn't look at their faces without wanting to blow their brains out. He was going to stay in the transport business, and he was going to do it right, from the ground up. From there, Pacific Logistics was born. He spent his savings refitting the boat and adding a few helpful extras and quietly put the word out that he was hiring. His next crew was going to have to be more than mere cut-throats. To survive when things went bad, he'd need those that have already seen their share of shit, and saw the world in shades of gray.

Personality: Cool, calm, and calculating. Everyone's got an angle, even if they don't know it yet. When not on a job, he's very laid back about how the crew would enjoy themselves. His only rule is that if there's anything unlawful done while in-between jobs, that it not be traced back to him, the crew, or the boat. Especially the boat. You lie in the bed you've made, or you'll find yourself out at best, and very out at the worst.

Appearance: 6'2" African American male. No discernable tattoos. Burn scar on his left shoulder from a botched mission. He keeps it there as a reminder

Weapon(s) of choice:
Glock 18 w. Extended Clip
HK MP5-N w. suppressor
-has a mix of subsonic and standard 9mm loadouts, depending on the mission.

Fighting style/tactics: Picked up Muay Thai after his tour and it's his choice of fighting style. Tactically, he strives to keep his crew and boat out of trouble that doesn't pay in advance. In a firefight, he'd much rather withdraw slowly, instead of taking a stand. Most of his battles were always against overwhelming numbers, and a tactical retreat meant you lived after killing a few of them. When all else fails, roll the hard six and make a deal. Where they were, someone was always after something, and favors had a way of coming back to you, for good or ill.
Story Lottery Profile
Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

He still seems very Dutch-like... could you at least give him a different hairstyle or something (actually what is the character's hairstyle)?

At this point I think I'm favoring an ex-Soviet/Chinese P4 or P6 over an ex-USN Nasty.  Partly because there were so few Nasty class boats, and partly because of the complexity of the type's Deltic engines.  Ami may be a good mechanic, but she doesn't have a full blown naval depot at her disposal!

Writersblockade

Lol he's completely different from Dutch. Just happens to be another black guy in 'Nam. I even changed his weapon loadout. He'd have a low cut hairstyle. Doesn't have to be bald. At this point, I may have to leave the idea alone until you know what you need. Shoot me a pm if you still want to roll
Story Lottery Profile
Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

Dutch served (or at least claimed to have served) on a Swift Boat in Vietnam.  They're also both captains.  So they do actually seem kind of similar to me.  Though I'm wondering if I should just let it slide since getting rid of those similarities would probably mean substantial alterations in the character's background.

Sessha

Quote from: Daril on July 22, 2015, 11:28:24 AM
Though I'm wondering if I should just let it slide since getting rid of those similarities would probably mean substantial alterations in the character's background.

I think I said that from the beginning Daril. I'm building a character that is similar to Revy but woefully different. However I'm not changing a thing about her backstory. It took me a long, long time to figure out and then a slightly longer time to get most of it written down on the website. I'm not being mean but maybe you might want to relax off of people and let them create their won characters. Also I might add the fact that picking a premise wouldn't be a bad idea. Going with the whole mercenaries thing fits right in with the whole idea from BL to begin with. Now I've kept my peace mostly but I'm breaking my silence now only because I rather enjoyed the character Writer came up with and would like to see him played out.
Locked, cocked and ready to rock!


Daril

At this point there's a good chance I will more or less go with it.  But I'd like to get Writer's thoughts before I make a final decision.

(Sidenote: It does occur to me that what I said in this post may have inadvertently contributed to the problem with Writer's character resembling Dutch.)

As for the mercenaries thing, I'd stated before that I'm leaning towards doing two separate groups -one a boat crew and the other a crew of mercenaries or independents gathered for a job.  I find big groups tend to get bogged down, so I'd rather not make either group too big.  Plus having two groups allows for catering to different things.

Daril

I worked things out with WritersBlockade, so it looks like we have a Captain for the boat.  I'm planning to do up a profile for my ex-SEAL character to fulfill the role of the other male crewmember shortly (unless someone else wants to submit a character for that role).

Speaking of that ex-SEAL character, I'd originally planned for him to be someone who had been in Roanapur for several years (remember, he was originally going to be the boat's Captain).  Now I'm thinking of starting the RPG with Cash's crew fishing him out of the water following the failed black ops mission that killed the rest of his team.  I have some reservations about doing things that way -I'd planned to play my guy as someone who had already loosened up a bit- but it seems like a good way to give the boat group an initial story to concentrate on.

Sessha

 Sounds fine to me. I need to hurry up and finish Alex's backstory then.
Locked, cocked and ready to rock!


Daril

Is Alex one of the smugglers/pirates too?  I got the impression she was more of a merc type from her profile.

Sessha

 She might seem like a merc but she's kind of like Revy in the way I built her.
Locked, cocked and ready to rock!


Daril

I guess what I'm wondering is why she decided to take a job on a boat rather than as a land based gun for hire.  You're pretty sure you want to take this route?  I had been planning to see about organizing a merc group after I'd gotten the boat group together.

Sorry about the delay with my character's profile btw.  Still figuring out a few things.

Writersblockade


Made a few changes. Hard to find a picture of the guy I'm playing. Feel free to suggest some! Slight details made on the history and appearance. The boat that he "inherits" from the Agency job is left vague for the GM to decide which boat we're using.

Cassius "Cash" Walker

6'2" 190lbs
African American
Weapons of Choice
Glock 18 w. Extended Clip
http://www.militaryfactory.com/smallarms/detail.asp?smallarms_id=495
HK MP5-N w. suppressor
-has a mix of subsonic and standard 9mm loadouts, depending on the mission.

Name: Cassius "Cash" Walker
Age: 44
Nationality: American
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Biography:
Cash spent his time during the Vietnam war in the Navy. He mostly spent it on the deck of a PT boat (Riverine) disrupting supply lines and running arms from one patch of jungle to the other. Taking fire from both sides of the river was an everyday occurrence, but casualties were fairly low, due to his LT Jack "Razorback" Thompson. Jack believed that wars come and go, but the lives of those he served under were the most important. It wasn't about getting everyone home more so than it was making sure that if they couldn't go home, that it be for the right reasons.

Cassius, on the other hand, was more cynical than that. He wasn't there for God or country, least of all the country that would rather see him killed in a country they didn't give a shit about than be happy in his own. He'd seen the reports. Racial tensions at its highest, people like him running up north to Canada to escape the draft. It put a different spin on life for him. It wasn't his war...he didn't slap a Vietnamese and tell them how they should run their damn country, but here he was and there they was. And that was all there was to it. An idea came to him when he noticed grunts bitching about the lack of good smokes, since the country's version was pure shit. That got Cash's gears turning.

The way he saw it, people were making money on this whole thing. The shit cigs they sold were selling because that was all that was there. The key was to keep his ear to the ground and listen to the sound of the herd. Motherfuckers were out there getting their asses blown to hell and back, and they couldn't even get a pack of Winstons for their trouble? Fuck that! That was more un-American than any of the propaganda the commies were throwing their way. So in the spirit of America and the almighty dollar, Cash made sure to include a few "extras" on his excursions out.

There was money to be made. Soldiers were getting paid, and had nowhere to spend it half the time. Getting any piece of leave was more rare than getting ass without itching afterwards, which was where he came in. He started with a few cartons of cigs, and some joints. Nothing hardcore. A little at a time was all he needed to keep his own little train a chuggin'. The problem with success, though, was the possibilities it lay before you, and the greed it prodded awake with a gold tipped stick. Some strange twist of fate would give him the opportunity to expand.

See, Jack's philosophy hadn't killed Jack as much as his penchant for self-sacrifice. During a resupply drop, the enemy had gotten the drop on them and the Marines they were supplying. It was a large force that was diverting it's troops to avoid US forces lying in wait. They had no idea the resupply was happening until they chanced upon it. Cash was working out a sweet little deal for some half used titty mags when they hit. The urge to live carried his feet straight to the machine gun on the deck, where he then laid down as much cover fire as he could in the dense jungle. Jack was piling as many bodies on the boat as it could take,  but ended up taking a round right between the shoulder blades while loading a wounded man on board. The last sight Cash had of the guy was of his body floating lifeless in the shallow water.

He'd drank to the poor bastard's memory, then followed it up with another for the lesson the death taught him. The only way you could save others was to save yourself. Who knows how many more kids that guy could have helped if he hadn't put his ass completely out in the breeze? So some guy who bought the fucking farm anyway could have a few more seconds of life? Fuck that. Jack got a medal out of it. So did he, amazingly. He kept it somewhere...he forgot where. He couldn't melt it down, and it was only worth something to the dicks who wanted to pretend they saw the big grey ass of the elephant.

Some of the brass called him a hero. Said his quick thinking after Jack went down saved lives. He took it as just trying to survive, but that didn't matter. They gave him the boat to command, and he made it his personal ice cream truck. He served the best, the worst, and the blank-eyed in betweeners. if it wasn't cash, it was shit he could turn to cash quick. The money was piling in so many places, he couldn't hide it all. He had to switch tactics, and focused on getting the money to a bank without attracting attention. Turns out that was easier than he thought. They had a whole delivery system for getting unmentionables out of the country. He paid the price for the delivery, and spaced that shit out in case something disappeared, and that kept things flowing even better. He turned his crew into true smugglers, and because of it was actually called on the most sensitive of ops! Who knew being a sneaky bastard could be useful on so many levels!?

Some of those ops were, without a doubt, agency related. Secret men in too-clean BDUs pretending to be something everyone else knew they weren't. It was ridiculous, but orders were orders, and the jobs got done. They gave him funny looks sometimes. Like they knew...they probably did, but they already had their fingers and dicks into so much shit, some small time guy like him probably didn't warrant the attention. It all went fairly flawless. For god's sakes they had payments made to certain guys on the other fucking side for safe passage! The whole damn thing was a meat-grinding circus, and he couldn't tell if he was the monkey, or the motherfucker cranking the box.

When it was time to leave, he did so with pockets full and head raised high. He didn't go home. Couldn't. War, even with his outlook on life, changed certain people in certain ways. The allure of the nine to five, thanksgivings with the family, and baseball hadn't pulled on his heartstrings. He liked 'Nam. He just didn't like where it stood at the time. He found a few islands to hop. He had an assortment of girls, booze, and random acts of violence to kill time with, but the day he saw some suit sitting across from him after a particularly nasty bender, he knew it must have been time to pay the piper.

The guy said he had a mission for him that paid if he was willing to not ask questions. Apparently they were in a market for someone who knew how to get in and out of places quietly and with minimum loses. What could Cash do? Even with the cost of things being so cheap, the money he'd saved was only going to get him so far before it started to run low, and he could use the spending money. One job turned to two, then to four. Time flew without him realizing it, until his crew eventually got burned. Cold war secrets were traded like baseball cards, and word of their shipment was in the wind.

Half his crew went out the hard way, and Cash had to drive a limping boat back with one good arm while his shoulder filled the cabin with the smell of burning flesh. To say that he and the agency had a falling out would be putting it mildly, but good resources were hard to find, and so were paying customers. Like it or not, they were tied together. Once Cash took enough time to see it, the truth took a few bottles of rum to swallow. Funny enough, no one took notice of the boat after the incident. That was one good thing about working with a shady entity. They kept just enough of an eye on Cash to know that he wasn't talking, and more importantly, no one was looking.

With the good news of not having to look out for a hit squad at his door in the immediate future, Cash paid off his remaining members and told them to scatter. He honestly couldn't look at their faces without wanting to blow their brains out. He was going to stay in the transport business, and he was going to do it right, from the ground up. From there, Pacific Logistics was born. He spent his savings refitting the boat and adding a few helpful extras and quietly put the word out that he was hiring. His next crew was going to have to be more than mere cut-throats. To survive when things went bad, he'd need those that have already seen their share of shit, and saw the world in shades of gray.

Personality: Cool, calm, and calculating. Everyone's got an angle, even if they don't know it yet. When not on a job, he's very laid back about how the crew would enjoy themselves. His only rule is that if there's anything unlawful done while in-between jobs, that it not be traced back to him, the crew, or the boat. Especially the boat. You lie in the bed you've made, or you'll find yourself out at best, and very out at the worst.

Appearance: 6'2" African American male. 190 lbs, athletic build, but not sculpted. More like the build of someone made strong working and not through a gym membership. No discernable tattoos. Burn scar on his left shoulder from the botched mission. He keeps it there as a reminder. He keeps his hair cut low, and very neat. No mustache or beard. He'd be easily be mistaken for a businessman in a suit, and even keeps a few handy when meeting certain clientele with more discerning tastes than normal.

Weapon(s) of choice:
Glock 18 w. Extended Clip
HK MP5-N w. suppressor
-has a mix of subsonic and standard 9mm loadouts, depending on the mission.

Fighting style/tactics: Picked up Muay Thai after his tour and it's his choice of fighting style. Tactically, he strives to keep his crew and boat out of trouble that doesn't pay in advance. In a firefight, he'd much rather withdraw slowly, instead of taking a stand. Most of his battles were always against overwhelming numbers, and a tactical retreat meant you lived after killing a few of them. When all else fails, roll the hard six and make a deal. Where they were, someone was always after something, and favors had a way of coming back to you, for good or ill.
Story Lottery Profile
Here’s my O/Os!

I don't know who this Muse person is, but if it explains away the voices in my head, then I'm all for it!

Daril

Okay, here's the profile for my character.  I decided to do him up as a character who had been in Roanapur for a while (perhaps in part because of the casual appearance of the image I'm using).  For now I also haven't listed any weapons larger than his sidearm, in part because I haven't decided 100% on what he's going to end up with.  It may depend a bit on what some of the other characters are using.

Name: Jonathan Hawke
Age: 29
Nationality: American
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Biography: Johnathan grew up feeling somewhat distant from others, perhaps in part because of his father being away for long periods of time due to his job as a sailor in the US Navy.  He got into quite a few fights growing up, but managed to avoid getting into any serious trouble (at least officially).  At the age of eighteen he enlisted in the Navy.  His intention may have been to follow in his father's footsteps, but his career would soon turn down quite a different path when he became acquainted with a member of one of the Navy's SEAL teams during one of his deployments.  The team member encouraged Jonathan to attend Seal Qualification Training.  A short time later he did so -and passed with flying colors.
Of course, passing qualification training was just the beginning.  What followed was more than a year of hellish training.  But when it was over, Johnathan found himself a member of a very elite group of warriors -and part of a very close knit team.  He felt he had found his calling.  His team fought in Panama and Kuwait and achieved their objectives with no casualties.  Johnathan received a medal for his involvement.
Then came the mission to an island in Southeast Asia.  It was a "black" mission -not officially acknowledged, with the participants to expect no help from Uncle Sam if they got caught.  And it was a total disaster.  The team was ambushed by heavy weapons almost as soon as they got ashore, and suffered heavy casualties.  They managed to get their wounded back to the boats and get out on the water, but then they came under even heavier fire.  The boat Johnathan's team was on went down under the bombardment.  Wounded, he survived by playing dead and drifting away on the water.  He almost died from exposure but was eventually picked up by the crew of a smuggling boat operating out of Roanapur.
Whether due to a sense of debt to his rescuers or a lack of desire to make his way home after what happened to his team -perhaps both- Johnathan stuck around his rescuers and helped out with their jobs.  Gradually, he began to view Roanapur as his home, and the crew he'd joined as his team.
Personality: Jonathan is fairly quiet, preferring to remain unobtrusive and avoid trouble where possible.  He is quiet capable of handling it when he encounters it however.  He tends to remain pretty level headed when the shit hits the fan.  He also has very strong personal loyalties -the rest of the crew is his team, and he hasn't really shaken the "no man left behind" mentality he learned while in the military.  One of his vices is smoking, which he picked up during his early days in the navy.
Appearance: Jonathan is about 5'9, with a deceptively moderate build.  One of his most distinctive features is his blue eyes, but they are often hidden by the sunglasses he chooses to wear.  He has allowed his hair to grow out a bit since coming to Roanapur -long enough that he's ended up typing it into a short tail at the back- and is often unshaven.
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Weapon(s) of choice: S&W Model 5906, Combat Knife
Fighting style/tactics:  Despite possessing good marksmanship, Johnathan relies heavily on instinctive shooting and rapid fire, as he believes that being slow in a gunfight means being dead.  He is a believer in overwhelming firepower and likes to have a large supply of ammunition handy.  He's also very skilled at hand to hand combat and knife fighting.  He isn't beholden to any particular style -in his view techniques are the means to an end, not the end itself.

Daril

Okay, I think we're getting very close here.

Anyone got any ideas for the name of the boat?  It's going to be an ex-Soviet one.  Probably a P6, as the smaller P4 is a bit narrow in the beam.  I figure it will have had its heavy weaponry removed, and maybe some additional weather protection added to its bridge area.

http://s-boot.net/sboats-vm-p6.html -Here's some pictures of East German P6s for reference.

I'm thinking of beginning the RPG with a job.  Anyone have anything in particular they want to try in that regard?

Sessha

 Now when you say weaponry are you talking about the two twin mount 25mm AA guns? I don't know if you remember the Lagoon had Torpedoes onboard.
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Writersblockade

Yeah, get rid of the AA, but something about having a few Depth Charges makes me smile. Probably keep the torpedoes. I'd say replace the 25mm guns with stand mounted .50 cal guns with light armor shielding as chasers. Sounds reasonable, right? As for names, I like the Weary, but I didn't think we'd be painting a name on her.
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Daril

I'd actually been planning to get rid of any obvious weaponry and switch over to stuff that can easily be hidden from view when not needed.  I'd thought about having the boat carry a .50 heavy machine gun that can be set up on deck when necessary, but my worry is that such a powerful weapon will make dealing with pursuing boats too easy.  I'd actually been leaning towards a mere m-60.  :P Perhaps with something like a SPG-9 for intimidating larger ships into surrendering when engaging in piracy work (such a weapon might also be effective against small boats if it could hit them).

Actually I've sort of been wondering what should go in the boat's communal arms locker in general.  I figure there'd probably be some submachine guns for boarding work.  I'm not sure there's be a lot of long rifles, though having a few might prove useful on occasion.

I'd kind of like to go with a name that's cool by being uncool, but "Rustbucket" is probably pushing it.  Especially for a boat that's primarily made of wood.  :D

Sessha

 Honestly I agree with Writer on this one. Remove the twin 25mm mounts, but leave the torpedoes and depth charges. Maybe you'd only need 1 .50 caliber heavy machine gun on the front end and for deployable firepower against other ships why not have a Mk. 19 40mm grenade launcher?
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