I'm definitely interested. Will work on a character in a wee bit.
Now, for questions: Do you want us to put thought into our equipment, and list it out? Seems like that was always an integral part of the Fallout experience. On a related note, any limitations on stuff?
Are we going to do a system-based game, or keep it completely free-form?
character sheet below.
Name: Edward "Tinkerer" Sullivan
Starting location: Paradise's Eden
Appearance: With hair an odd, rosewood hue, he typically prefers to keep it short and hidden; he's had one too many people comment on how "pretty" his hair is, comments he does not take with any degree of mirth. He is five feet, ten inches tall, and weighs about 180 lbs. He is possessed of a wiry physique. He has green eyes, which are often hidden by the lenses of very dark sun glasses.
He has scars on his face from what could possibly be a gecko attack, but he does not talk about what caused it; instead, he typically keeps his face hidden by a bandanna, claiming that it helps keep the dust out of his nose and mouth (which, to be fair, it does).
Other notes: Picture depicts him with a 9mm smg, not the 45 he uses. He doesn't have a Pip-boy, since he's never been near a vault in his life.
Bio: Edward has always had a fondness for tinkering with guns and the like, ever since he was a child. Speaking of his childhood, Edward was born at Megaton, where he lived as normal of a life as it can be out in the weird, wild world they call home.
When he was older (15), he started exploring the nearby ruins and such, and practicing how to use fire arms (Lucas Simms was glad to help the young man, in exchange for his work on maintaining the equipment in the armory; the kid was a prodigy when it came to repairing and tinkering with weapons).
Then, one day, with a fine set of reinforced leather armor, a sturdy shotgun and SMG, he left on what he called a "quest"; he believed that, somewhere out there, their must be an arms manufacturing plant in still good condition, and he wanted to find it. He was no longer happy merely maintaining the junk people brought him, and occasionally making the junk less junky with his mods; no. He wanted to make guns themselves.
Unfortunately, this grand undertaking of his was simply too much of a job for one man. One too many times, he nearly got himself killed; ghouls trying to rip him apart and eat him, dogs doing much the same, Raiders taking one too many shots at him for his liking. Surly and with a broken spirit, he wandered, determined to settle down at the next civilized location he could find.
He quite literally stumbled upon Paradise's Eden just as the survivors were working to make it their own. He helped them out, keeping the threats of the wasteland at bay, and found himself once again in the role of weapon maintainer.
Caravan Shotgun with an installed choke to decrease the spread of buckshot
.45 SMG with compensator, which reduces the spread of bullets, and a drum magazine (50 rounds instead of 30)
Reinforced leather armor
1 caravan lunch