(Update: Fantasy Races and Magic are welcome so long as they are not horribly overpowered)
For now, I'm without an official title for this game. The era in question is similar to the 1910's, with anachronisms in just about every field of technology. My character is a Russian American orphan girl who has grown up with the passion to invent as her only driving force in life.
What I am seeking is a partner willing to play a submissive and flamboyant male, female, or otherwise gendered character who hires her as a partner for a two person novice mercenary company operating out of a derelict old hangar at first. This pilot will be famous for quick reflexes, but they have been booted out of the Royal Navy for being a reckless showoff.
Literacy will be quite heavy with dogfights, gunfights, and violence in general that will even lead to a steampunk outbreak of a World War. The two lead characters should start out as aloof and maybe even spiteful to each other until they come to appreciate and trust each other and eventually fall in love. Thanks to the invention of jet technology, this pair is destined to become the fastest mercenary team in the world. Thanks to them both being incredibly attractive and persuasive, they will naturally succeed at infiltration and assassination after earning their reputation doing the more unpleasant jobs for a long time to earn better equipment and a better base of operations.
The following serves as both an introduction to my character and a writing sample that may open the thread. Please PM me if you like what you see, and I'll gladly consider you for the second lead role in this tale of action and science
Sunrise in New Amsterdam breathed new life into the smoggy old city. Despite the crisp autumnal cold and the lack of many other early risers, a figure clad in dark clothing and the official robe of a qualified engineer stepped out into the sunlight on a clear lot, stretching their slender body and shutting their violet colored eyes to avoid direct eye contact with the newly reborn sun. Female engineers were unheard of in the United Kingdoms of The Netherlands, but Gaz was about as male as an attractive young woman could be on the inside. It showed in every movement of her body as she stretched to prepare for another futile day of seeking gainful employment. The Engineer Guild kindly allowed her to stay while she invented and regularly attended job fairs, but a meager living had her skipping all but one meal a day and doing odd jobs for spare parts to invent with.
Still, she was the most stubborn young engineer of her time. And today seemed a little more hopeful because she finally had the best spot on the strip. It was directly facing the entrance to the courtyard for the Engineer Guild, and she was the only early bird in sight. While Gaz sifted through her utility belt and took a quiet and thorough inventory of all of her tools, the sun continued to rise over the clouds, steam, and smog that always hung over and around New Amsterdam like a comfortable cloak. The female engineer pulled out a notepad and triple checked her notes on her latest invention. She couldn't afford to slip even once while describing and presenting exactly what had happened in the machinist shop last night.
A few more recent graduates of the Engineer Guild Academy rushed frantically onto the lot. From the look of them, they were various stages of unprepared for this occasion. Some of them hadn't even bathed for the occasion. Gaz regarded them all stoically as they quickly and rowdily occupied the courtyard. Every Monday morning, she was the first one out here. And every Monday afternoon, she was the only one left. Roughly twoscore unwashed, uninspired men poured out of this courtyard into new jobs every week after only two years of education. Gaz had the misfortune of being female, despite her total lack of appreciation for the sentiment in favor of science. She had been forced to prove herself for a third and fourth year in school despite her obvious aptitude for defying physics with bold new ideas.
She mentally told herself the same thing every week, "It's gonna be different today. No one can pass my latest invention up."
The usual hiring teams walked in through the courtyard entrance and approached her battered wooden shop stand. Rear Admiral Vex was there with his bushy white moustache and immaculate uniform. Brigadier General Thyme was there with his own bushy white moustache and immaculate uniform. Their younger aides carried notebooks, ready to be filled with the details of each potential candidate. Several representatives from all the big machine companies were there, too. All of them were familiar with Gaz and her inventions, and they were all lined up to ridicule her again. "Today, I'll blow them away,"
she thought without once altering her emotionless expression.
She tugged a black cloth from over her newest prototype, and the regular morning recruiters literally froze with disbelief. Made from well restored scrap pipes, recycled bicycle parts and a couple of discarded hotel fan blades was something they hadn't expected at all. The design was bold and daring. It was the sort of attempted invention that had never been successful. In fact, it had killed just about everyone who had tried to invent it before. But Gaz's voice was perfectly calm while she began her presentation. "Gentlemen, I present for your curiosity and consideration for hire, the Individual Mobile Flight Apparatus, which I have loving named 'Aperture.' It will allow airship mechanics to move freely from work station to work station, and multiply marine mobility exponentially. Please allow me to demonstrate."
"You'll bloody well kill us all!" shouted the General as the slender, boyish woman strapped the invention heavily onto her back. But with the firm click of a metal buckle, Gaz proved that she didn't care about his concern for life and limb. "Jets have been tested, Miss Bellamy. They are unstable and explode. Please don't throw your life away," the Admiral calmly objected. The corporate men were even worse. "Even if it works, you'll crash the damn thing. Women can't fly," one of the more sexist fat-cats arrogantly proclaimed. Another corporate fat-cat objected and stated that women can fly, but they're no good at engineering in a matter-of-fact tone while Gaz casually shoved a leather flight helmet onto her head.
There was practically a riot of men trying to reach her before she took off, and she took her sweet time lowering the goggles over her eyes while they fumbled over each other in panic. She gently latched two piloting handles into a comfortable position and pulled the ignition lever without even a second thought. The wings of the jetpack gracefully unfolded with the clicking of the bicycle chains, and she leaped and literally flew over the heads of all of the pathetic recruiting teams with a blast of hot air and a smug look on her face. Well over a hundred eyes stared at her in disbelief while she zipped about above the courtyard with a rare smile on her face.
After a few minutes of sustained flight, she gently lowered herself back into her battered wooden stall and pulled the ignition lever again to choke the fuel feed. A perfect landing. And while the shocked faces stared at her as if she was insane, she continued to describe her invention in detail. "The best fuel for the device is one hundred and twenty proof or greater liquor, which is affordable and in substantial supply. In my personal tests, it burns cleaner and more effectively than petrol and allows for much greater flight distance between refuels with the help of a narrow fuel injection device."
But the men were too afraid to remain near this mad scientist, and started mumbling to each other in their insecurity that there was no way her invention was safe, practical, or reliable. She wasn't discouraged by the usual routine, and continued to describe in detail every operating part of her prototype. She was counting on just one person to be batty enough to accept jet technology as a bold and dangerous -but recently successful- invention. All of the military and corporate men were moving on to the next stall, but a group of mercenary men had been right behind them. They'd seen the whole show, and one of them, younger and braver than the others, approached her with the obvious intent to hire her.