Arklytte

Honestly, I hadn't intended to stat them out, but if you want to, go for it. What you list is about what I would have used, mechanics wise, so feel free. I'll give you control of them on the map when the time comes.

Thanks for the reminder! I was going to set up a 'bank' for Crafting at Cloverdale. One that the PC's can contribute stuff they've scrounged while out on missions, and that they can then draw from to Craft. That way folks wont have to lug around a literal ton of scrap just so they can Craft when they want to. I dont want to go full Base Building...those aren't my kind of games, but since y'all do currently have a base of operations, little things like that made sense to me. I'm going to set up a Loot thread, and we can keep track of such things there. As for right now...We'll say that there's a 'bank' of 1000GP worth of stuff and junk for Crafting available, and all the PC's can draw from it. Y'all can work out amongst yourselves how you want to handle distribution. Also, since it will probably come up, Yes, the rest of the guards and other residents of Cloverdale that go outside the wire will also bring back scrounged stuff, and No, they PC's wont be able to draw from it. It takes a certain amount of maintenance to keep guards in gear, bullets, and other consumables, not to mention stuff like gasoline stocks, vehicle parts, upgrades, etc. We'll call that a null sum, again, because I dont want to delve into a bunch of accounting. But the Crafting Bank will be the bit that's allocated to the PC's, since they're basically 'officers' at Cloverdale.

The peace of the early March afternoon was shattered by the sound of roaring engines and gunfire. All along the road outside the Cloverdale Research Facility, deep in the heart of the evergreen forests of central Oregon, a running battle was being waged. On one side was a near mindless, ravening horde of screaming, snarling, hideous caricatures of beings who were once human...Freaks, in name and nature. On the other, a veritable parade of humanity, survivors of the apocalyptic horror that, just a few short years ago, was unleashed when the Hooligan virus spread to every corner of the globe, killing roughly half the population, and turning half of those that remained into horrifying, zombie like cannibals known as Freaks. A mixed group of heavily armed Drifters, mounted on an...eclectic collection of what some might call extremely modified motorcycles, escorting a small panel van, tore down the lonely, scarred highway, weapons blazing, as they mowed down the veritable tide of former humanity that pursued them. One of the riders, at the tail of the group, unluckier than the rest, turned to fire his weapon. His attention wavered for but a moment, but it was enough for the front tire of his motorcycle to impact a particularly nasty pothole, sending his bike out of control. With a scream, the man lost his balance and he, his weapon, and his motorcycle all parted ways as the vehicle flipped end over end, carooming off to the side, and eventually taking out a handful of the enraged, pursuing Freaks. Unfortunately for the rider, it wasn't enough to save him, as the vanguard of the Horde immediately pounced, ripping the man limb from limb as a handful stopped to feast. The rest of the mass flowed around those dining on the ex-Drifter, still in hot pursuit of their prey. Fortunately for those that still retained their humanity, they had almost reached their goal. A few hundred yards ahead, a large sign, emblazoned with a large, blue floral design, on a background of matte black, let all and sundry know that they were nearing the Cloverdale Research Facility. Almost as one mind, the group slowed, not having a choice in making the ninety degree turn that would take them onto the access road that lead to the facility's gates. The ravening horde in pursuit, somehow not only keeping up with the fleeing vehicles, but, by all appearances, gaining on them, surged forward, a fresh note of hunger entering their collective, keening howl. All seemed lost for the fleeing group, when suddenly, from just ahead of them, all along the approaching fenceline, the crackle of gunfire erupted, sending hundreds, and then thousands, of rounds, punching into the horde. At several places along the fence-line, watchtowers, their wooden framing still new enough that it weeped sap, played host to the deeper thumping rattle of heavy ordinance, as four dual-mounted M2 heavy machine guns, the venerable Ma Duece of story and song, began sending rounds downrange, and the slaughter of the Infected truly began to commence. Atop the central tower, which loomed over the gatehouse, an elderly man and woman stood, both ramrod straight, both with bearing that belied their ages. The woman held a heavy rifle in her hands, singing out orders into a throat mike, even as she visited death on the Freaks. Beside her, the man fiddled with a small, plastic device. A grin played about his lips as he firmly mashed a pair of buttons on the top of the device. A split second later, the air was split by a MASSIVE explosion, utterly wiping out the center of the Horde, causing bodies...well, mostly parts of bodies to sail into the air, scattering carrion all over the roadway. Another button press, and an array of claymore mines, buried along the roadside, went off with a series of sharp CRACKS, and thousands of tungsten ball bearings hammered forth at supersonic speed, sweeping dozens more Freaks off the road. With a nod to the woman beside him, the older man tucked the device away, pulled a large rifle off his back, and began to aid the guards in reducing the still oncoming, though now much smaller, horde, into so much chopped meat. With the pressure off, the group of Drifters who'd been fleeing the Horde, rolled in through the now open gate. Once the group was safely inside, the high metal fence rolled closed, and when it was finished, the high pitched hum of electric death buzzed through the air, adding another layer to the feeling of safety that infused their bodies. As they began to dismount, a group from near the front of the building surged towards them, bearing medical supplies rather than firearms. They were led by a pair of women, both of whom exuded an aura of calm competence. One was tall, lanky, and brunette, the other short, athletic, and blonde. The brunette grabbed the first wounded person she spotted and began to administer aid, waving several of her people forward. The blonde stalked up to one of the men just getting off his bike, a dark haired man with three days scruff of stubble, with a pensive, brooding look about him. Snatching him by the collar, she pulled him down into a searing kiss, then, an instant later, pulled back and punched him...hard...in the shoulder, before berating him for almost giving her a heart attack. The man chuckled, leaned down and gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek, muttered something only she could hear, which caused the woman to grin, before throwing up her hands in exasperation and moving to help the tall brunette in aiding the wounded. The man turned to the man who'd been riding beside him, a burly, bald man with a Latin look. The man was missing his right arm from just below the elbow down, but the severed limb had been replaced by a strange, cobbled together prosthetic that ended in a complex ratcheted claw and hook arrangement that allowed him to manipulate things, including, apparently, the throttle of his hawg. The two conferred for a moment, then turned towards one of the women who'd arrived to aid the newcomers. The three of them all wore leather jackets...kutte's, for those who knew the term, each with the word Mongrels embroidered across the back and shoulders. The three shook hands, grinning, and, when they were joined by a tall blonde man, began looking over the group's vehicles. Waving over a couple others, they, along with several riders, began making some quick field repairs of the many dings and dents that the vehicles had sustained in their escape from the horde. Back at the gate, inside the gatehouse, a diminutive woman, covered nearly head to toe in a high tech suit of body armour, watched a bank of monitors. Each showed a different view of the surrounding area, giving her a precise tactical picture of the slaughter going on outside the fence. With a few keystrokes, she was able to switch from normal to IR vision, sweeping the area to make sure none of their attackers had somehow gotten out of the kill basket that the guards along the perimeter had caught them in. With a satisfied half-smile, she spoke quietly into her throat mike, relaying to the older woman in the watchtower above, that the once mighty Horde had been eliminated, and the few stragglers left were scattering into the nearby foothills. ************* Shortly, once the remaining Freak stragglers...at least those that hadn't had the sense to beat feet into the surrounding woods...the armoured woman in the gatehouse sent another pre-coded radio signal, and the sound of heavy engines roared to life. The gate retracted and three mini-cat scoop loaders thundered out onto the road. In moments they were pushing the heaped, mangled bodies of the Freaks away from the compound and into prepared ditches on the side of the road. As they worked, a team of guards escorted half a dozen figures in silver foil suits outside the gate. Each of the figures bore a hollow tube in their hands, a tube attached by a hose to large tanks on each of their backs. Once the bulldozers were finished with their grisly chore, the silver suited guards ignited pilot lights on the front of each of their tubes, and began to spew flaming jellied gasoline over the bodies of the Freaks. In seconds, the corpses began to char, and the men continued to pour fuel on them, rendering flesh and bone into cinder and ash. A few shots rang out...remnants of the broken Horde, drawn by instinct to the smell of cooking flesh, but were quickly dissuaded by the armed response. Luckily for those within the compound, the roadway was just far enough away that, combined with a favorable breeze, they didn't have to smell the sickly sweet smell of burning bodies. Being reminded that their fellow humans smelt like burnt pork when cooked wasn't good for anyone's sanity. ************* Back inside the compound, the man with the prosthetic barked a few orders to his crew. He was joined by a few of the guards, those not still on overwatch for the disposal crew, as well as nearly the entire team of riders, other than the few still being treated for injuries. Opening the back of the van, those gathered were treated to the sight of a positively HUGE Freak. Had it been standing, the Breaker would have been at least eight feet tall, and was built like a gorilla. Fortunately, for all concerned, the massive Freak was both heavily sedated, and wrapped up in hundreds of feet of both rope and rigger tape, to the point where it looked like the beast had been cocooned by an equally massive spider. With a grin, Boozer looked at the other Drifters gathered around, and jerked his head out towards the highway. "Guess they didn't like us snatching their Alpha. Of course, if this one," he nodded in Deacon's direction, "hadn't wanted to impress his lady, we would probably just have grabbed a random loner. But nooooo...nothing but the best, most Freakiest Freak for his Sarah." With a dark chuckle, the biker hooked his prosthetic into the ropes around the unconscious Freak, and, with the willing help of those around him, began to drag it out of the van. A few minutes later, the crew disappeared into the back of the main building, heading for the basement containment area that had been set up to house the captured Freaks for testing. They entered the building just about the same time the bulldozer and flamethrower crew were heading back inside, their grisly work completed as well. Sarah, standing with her arm around her husband, tucked under his shoulder, looked around at the group and, in a satisfied tone of voice, addressed all of them. "Well done, one and all. With the capture of that Breaker, we now have enough Advanced Infected to be able to test the new serum River and I have been working on. We're going to start testing tomorrow, but for now, I need to meet with the various team leads, and my staff, in conference room 1 in thirty minutes. We'll be going over the procedures for tomorrow, as well as some supplementary information." She caught the eye of several people, including the two old soldiers who'd lead the defense, as well as the medic, the armoured scientist, and the head mechanic and engineer, along with a couple others, all mixed into the crowd. "Finish up out here, get cleaned up, and head on inside. I'll make sure there's something to eat and drink at the meeting, and everyone else can rotate into the cafeteria by rota. You all deserve a break after that little dustup." She nodded in the direction of the road, a grim half smile on her face. With another sweeping gaze, Sarah once more thanked everyone, before heading inside, her arm still wrapped around her husbands waist, and his draped over her shoulder. The two swiftly crossed to the main doors, then disappeared inside, leaving those outside to get themselves sorted out. ************* A short time later, all those requested found themselves in the main conference room. As befitted a powerful and wealthy biomedical corporation, the conference room boasted all of the things that were considered the hallmarks of 'modern life' from before Outbreak; a large, heavy, dark oak table; plush leather chairs for all those who rated a seat at the 'big table', as well as comfortable couches for guests; tasteful art; subdued lighting; and the finest in modern technology, including large monitors on three walls, as well as a projector screen that could drop from the ceiling when a larger format was needed. A full coffee service sat at one end of the room, the large silver urn filled to the brim with an increasingly rare commodity...though not at Cloverdale, at least for the time being. Apparently, one of the company bigwigs had been a huge fan of the bean, and there had been several pallets, piled high with vacuum sealed bag after vacuum sealed bag, in one of the facility's many sub-basements. What had quickly become a luxury for most was still relatively commonplace for those who worked at the biotech lab. Next to the coffee was a nice spread of snacks. Fresh loaves of bread, roasted meat...mostly local venison, which the guards hunted on a regular basis as part of their duties...and an array of condiments...another find in the facility's storage area...along with an array of fresh and preserved fruit, which was grown on site during the warmer months, and which those who first got the facility back online the previous Spring had harvested and stored as part of their initial setup, has all been laid out to help sate the appetites of all and sundry. Once everyone was settled with their meal, Sarah, at the head of the table, called the meeting to order. "All right everyone, settle down. We've got a lot of info to cover, and I dont know about you, but I still have a long list of things to get done before out next test tomorrow." She smiled at those assembled, her gaze sweeping the room, before she continued. "Now, most of you know, in general, what we've been doing here for the last several months. Getting the facility stood back up, recruiting a guard force, making sure we all sleep safe in our beds at night, capturing Freaks, testing various iterations of my formulas on them, trying to reverse the effects of the Hooligan Virus, better known to most as the Freaker Virus." Again, her smile swept the room, eyes locking momentarily with everyone at the table, before landing fondly on her husband, seated at her side. The two shared a look, a moment of silent communication, before their attention turned back to the room at large. "What most of you dont know," Sarah continued, "is why." Turning to the large flat screen behind her, Sarah clicked a control that she picked up from the table. On the screen, a complicated 3D DNA model appeared, slowly spinning on three axes. Sarah, eyes still glued to the screen, spoke, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "The Hooligan Virus, colloquially known as the Freaker Virus, is a viral infection that causes mutations in humans and other fauna, turning them into Freakers. Its spread across the world is responsible for the societal collapse and apocalyptic landscape that we now find ourselves living in." Turning back to the table, Sarah continued. "The virus appears to have distinct similarities to the Rabies virus, and, in fact, is based quite heavily on it, though there are several major changes to the RNA packet. Rabies, as most know, makes the host hyperactive, feral, and extremely aggressive to any uninfected creatures. Most prominently though, the infected become cannibalistic. Physical side effects of the infection include hair loss, loss of skin pigmentation, deformation, and the appearance of being malnourished. ie It turns them into Freaks." She frowned briefly, before resuming her speech. "The official scientific name for the Infected, given to them by NERO, in point of fact, is homo sapiens mutans turba." With a soft click, she caused the screen to change. It cycled through images, most taken from a distance via telephoto lens, of all the known variations of Freaks, though the one picture that flashed of a Reacher was blurry, giving an impression of a ravening beast with more in common with a mythical werewolf than it did with a former human. There were even a few pictures of other, more heavily mutated Freaks, but most were only single shots, usually blurry, as though they'd been snapped in a hurry, or taken from a moving vehicle. The variety of mutations in both human and animal base forms was, frankly, terrifying. "For those of you unaware, a few weeks after Outbreak, I was swept up by elements of the Deschutes County Militia. With my scientific skills, I was quickly promoted to an officer and put in charge of researching a 'final solution' to the Freaks by the late, unlamented Colonel Garret. What the Colonel didn't realize was, I wasn't trying to kill all the Freaks, I was trying to cure them." She smiled, somewhat self depricatingly, and rolled her eyes at Deacon's soft snort. Turning back to the room at large, a wry grin twisted her lips. "I know, I know, it was assuredly naive of me, but, what can I say, hope springs eternal. And in this fallen world, what do we have, if we dont have hope?" She once again briefly locked eyes with everyone at the table, before resuming. "Unfortunately, after having captured and done CT scans on several Freaks, as well as collating a large amount of NERO findings from right after Outbreak, we've determined that 'regular' Freaks, that is to say Swarmers and Newts, are, for all intents and purposes, brain dead. They have strong, instinctual behaviors, and have even been known to exhibit magpie like behavior when it comes to gathering small, shiny objects and hiding them in their nests, but beyond that...well...the lights are on, as they say, but noone's home. The only mercy you can truly offer them is a bullet." A flicker of sadness spasmed across her face, before she suppressed it. "That said, similar scans on more advanced Freaks, have shown that not all of their higher cognitive functions are completely destroyed. Their instinctual behaviors are still extremely strong, but portions of their frontal lobes exhibit a significant amount more activity than regular Freaks, though still far less than baseline humans. The possibility exists, however slim, that more advanced Freaks actually can be saved." She gestured, waving in the general direction of the holding cells in the sub basement. "That's what we'll be testing tomorrow." She held up a hand to forestall any comments. "However...There's additional, and, if I'm being honest, rather disturbing, information you all need to know. And for that, I'll turn things over to my husband." She gave Deacon an impish grin before dropping into her chair and turning her attention to the brooding, handsome man beside her. "Thanks for that, hon." Deacon's distinct, gravelly voice somehow managed to fill the room, even though he spoke fairly quietly. Leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, he, like his wife, swept the room with his gaze, locking eyes with all present for at least a full second apiece. Despite his relatively small stature, the man's presence and charisma was undeniable, and his quite speech caused all present to subconsciously strain forward to listen. "As you all know, back when everything started to go south, one of the biggest groups in the area trying to deal with the Outbreak, was NERO. Afterwards, when things went fully to shit, they pissed off and disappeared, to where exactly, noone really knows. Though, we do know that it's somewhere to the south, probably near the Oregon/California border. The DCM boys were always on the lookout for their black helicopters, before the war, and weren't averse to taking a pot shot with an RPG if the opportunity presented itself. And they always, always came from the south." "Anyway," he waved a hand in mild agitation, "that's not actually the point. The point is, some time after Outbreak, they started showing up all over the area. One of their black choppers would fly in, drop off some science types, guarded by what were probably special forces dude sporting serious gear, they'd do some tests or whatever, and piss back off to their sooper seekrit squirrel base. Noone knew what they were doing, or why. The only thing we knew was what Drifters like me found when we'd break into their old checkpoints...old recordings and field notes...egghead stuff like that." He grinned at Sarah, who rolled her eyes, before he turned back to the table. "Well, after the war, the black choppers suddenly up and stopped coming. Again, noone knew why. But noone really paid that much attention, because we were all too busy trying to recover from that bastard Garret's particular brand of insanity, and rebuild the camps back stronger and safer. Fortunately, Colonel Weaver, former bathtub chemist, and now head dude in charge of the militia, was willing to share not only the knowledge that Garret had stowed away in their 'Ark', but weapons, personnel, and even supplies. It's because of him that we have some of the nicer bang bangs mounted to our defenses." He paused a moment, wetting his throat with a drink from the bottle of beer in front of him, then leaned back once more, this time tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling. "That all leads me to what happened about a year ago. One day, out of the blue, I got a radio transmission from an old 'friend'...guy by the name of O'Brian." He growled the name, jaw clenched so hard his teeth squeaked. Sarah reached out and took his right hand, and Boozer, on his left, settled his prosthetic on Deacon's left shoulder. The scarred biker, battle hardened survivor, former Drifter, former leader of the Lost Lake camp after the death of Iron Mike in the war with the DCM, and current leader of the Cloverdale Camp, closed his eyes, seeming to draw both strength and calm from the silent support of the two people closest to him. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself, intertwining his fingers with Sarah's, and tapping his other fist on Boozer's shoulder. The two bikers shared a nod, before he leaned over and gave Sarah a quick peck on the cheek. Turning his attention back to the room, Deacon picked up his story. "O'Brian was a NERO science geek that I...or should I say, we" he gestured at Sarah and Boozer "met on Outbreak night. We were trying to get out of Bend, and both Sarah and Boozer were hurt. We made it to a NERO evac site, but they could only take two of us. Boozer, idiot that he is, tried to convince me to go with Sarah, and said he'd make it on his own. I ended up sending Sarah with O'Brian, got the name of the camp they were taking her to from him, and Boozer and I then made our way out of Bend on foot, then, eventually, on a couple bikes we...liberated." His eyes were dark, unpleasant memories dancing in them. The two on either side of him shared his dark looks, but neither said a word, just continuing to support him silently. "Unfortunately, Sarah's evac camp was overrun, and I thought she'd been...lost. Boozer and I just sort of drifted after that, but, about two years later, wouldn't you know it, I ran into good old O'Brian again. Long story short, he helped me track down Sarah, and the rest is history...until about a year ago. For about a year, maybe a little more, after the war with the old DCM, noone had seen hide nor hair of NERO. As far as anyone could tell, they'd left, died off, or who knows what. But then, like I said, out of the blue I get a radio transmission from O'Brian, asking me to meet him. I'll tell you, I had literally zero desire to do so, but Sarah convinced me that I was being an idiot, so I strapped on my guns, hopped on my hawg, and headed out." Deacon then launched into the story of his meeting with the NERO scientist, and, apparently, now rebel against his former masters. The man was a gifted storyteller, masterfully weaving details so clearly that it was almost like his listeners were seeing events unfold right in front of them. As he wrapped up his story, Deacon, his eyes blazing, swept his gaze around the room. The burning hatred in his glance was enough to scorch metal, and his voice was harsh when he spoke. "That night, I told Sarah and Boozer what happened, and, over a case of beer...or three...we decided we were going to stand Cloverdale back up, and figure out a way to reverse the Freaker virus. Not to 'save the Freaks'...well...ok, Sarah still wants to do that, and, God love her, I hope for her sake she succeeds, but the bigger, MUCH MORE important reason, is because if NERO has, potentially hundreds of smart Freak soldiers and scientists at their disposal, they can take over the whole damn world!" He stopped, taking a couple deep breaths, and a moment later, appeared to calm down. "So, that's what tomorrow is all about. We're going to test Sarah and River's new serum. And with any sort of luck, it'll either give us an insight into how NERO did what they did, or, even better, succeed in reversing some or all of the advanced Freaks mutations. Either way, I'll count it as a win." Boozer, who'd been silent up until then, nodded sharply, thumping his prosthetic on the tabletop. "Hell yeah!" he barked, his slight Hispanic accent coming through more strongly with his obvious passion. Sarah leaned forward, smiling fondly at the two men. She turned towards the group, hand still intertwined with Deacons, and her smile transferred out to all present. "So, that's the plan boys and girls. Deacon, Boozer, myself, and a couple of tech will be in the control lab upstairs. River, you and Diamond will be in the testing lab downstairs." She nodded to both women. "River, I need you to monitor the injection, as well as keep an eye on the bloodwork and other metrics as they come in. We might need to adjust the dosage on the fly, or possibly hit the Bleacher...he'll be our first subject, by the way...with other meds, depending on how he reacts. Diamond, I'll need you to be monitoring the lab systems, especially the robotic arms and drug dispensers, to make sure everything is running smoothly from a technical perspective." She shifter her gaze to Mabel and Johnny. "Mabel, I want you and Johnny there for physical security. Mable, I want you to pick two other shooters...I leave the choice in your capable hands. You're all going to be there, loaded for bear, in case things get hot, and there's a problem with containment. I dont expect there to be an issue, but we'd all be fools to ignore the possibility. Johnny, I expect you to do that voodoo that you do and have plenty of bottled nastiness if things go sideways." She grinned at the old man, wrinkling her nose at him. Sarah had made known her fondness for the older soldier over their time working on the facility. She once confessed he reminded her of a favorite uncle, also a soldier, and said that being around Johnny made her feel safe. Turning to Tinker and Michael, she continued. "I'd like you two to be there as well. Both of you are good with machinery, and, again, if something physical gets borked, you're my go to's to get it un-borked. Plus, I know you're both handy with the steel as well, so if shit goes totally sideways, you can back up Johnny, Mabel, and her guards." She glanced at Boozer and Deacon to see if they had anything to add, but neither did, so she turned back to the table. "We'll start testing at exactly 10:00 AM tomorrow, so I'd like everyone in the lab by no later than 9. If you have any questions, now's the time to ask them, but once we're done, your time is your own until tomorrow." "So," she quipped, "Questions, Comments, Concerns?" ************* OOC Info Well, that certainly ended up longer than I expected it to. Unfortunately, there was a lot of necessary exposition to shoehorn in. The wiki is fine, but it's not the most well organized, and if you dont know exactly what you're looking for, you often wont find it. Hopefully I was able to properly set the scene, as well as the tone of the campaign, for everyone. Please make sure you watch the linked video (Deacon's Story)!! It's literally the driving factor of this whole campaign, and is critical information. Plus, it's just some thoroughly awesome acting, so that's a plus. 😁 Once the meeting breaks down, as Sarah said, your time is your own. Those that wish to may use the time to Craft, if they so desire. We'll be using the , for those that have the appropriate feats, talents, and skills, and for anything not covered in the Tech Sphere, we'll use the . For reference, it's still early morning, about 11AM, during the meeting, so, depending on when you get done, you'll all have about 20ish hours to do whatever. For those that wish to Craft, Cloverdale has just about every type of crafting equipment/stations you could ask for, including fully functional machine shops, a motorcycle garage (including an onsite mechanic capable of doing up to Level II Upgrades...I've added a section on Crafting Upgrades to your Drifter Bikes in the Custom Equipment thread) and all are considered to be Grand Master quality. All Crafting stations at Cloverdale are considered to be +2 Exceptional (adding +2 to any Crafting check made when using them). However, because of the high quality of the facilities, Crafters can forego the +2 Exceptional Bonus, and instead treat it as though they have the Swift Quality. However, making use of this Quality will add +5 to the DC of any Crafting check made while taking advantage of this Quality. Additionally, all those with the Incredible Metabolism Oath Boon may Craft for an additional 4 hours per day (for a total of 12 hours of Crafting time). This assumes they have adequate time to rest and deal with any other activities they plan to do during the day. If you have any questions/comments/concerns about Crafting, please ask them in the Q&A thread, so that we have an easily searchable record of such discussions, in case it comes up in future. Thanks!! 😁

There SHOULD be an equivalent to Balanced for Armour & Shields...I thought there was on the list, but apparently I'm misremembering. 😵 Can't dig into it right at the moment, but I'll definitely do so later tonight.

First off, credit where it's due. This form is copied, mostly verbatim, from something that put together for a game that I was a player in. I loved the idea and plan to use it pretty much every game I run from now on. I figure, if you're going to steal, steal from the best. Until all of you have posted your initial post, I would ask that everyone refrain from making any additional posts in this thread. I plan to use this as a reference document going forward with the game. Once everyone has posted their initial post, feel free to post any questions/comments/concerns at that time. In the meantime, please copy/paste this into a post as soon as you're able, then you can edit it as time permits. THANKS! Character Statistics All Day Stats: What your character is going to be walking around with, without needing to take special preparation before or during a combat. This includes any buff with a duration of 2 hours or more, but not anything shorter. All Day AC: All Day Fort, Ref, and Will saves: All Day Attack Bonus and Damage Dice, both melee and ranged: (Please include average damage for your various attacks) All Day Save DC/Damage for Special Abilities: Hit Points: Nova Stats: What your character can achieve with optimal preparation. Assume the best possible scenario for boosting yourself—every buff you can use has already been cast and you're in the perfect position to unload on your target. Also, consider these situations separately; your nova AC may require the same resources as your nova attack, but I want you to give me these as if they're not related. Additionally, please calculate the average amount of damage your attacks will generate and include it in parenthesis with the damage dice. Nova AC: Nova Fort, Ref, and Will saves: Nova Attack Bonus and Damage Dice, both melee and ranged: (Please include average damage for your various attacks) Nova Save DC/Damage for Special Abilities: Significant Temporary/Long Term HP Boosts: Group Contributions: What boosts can your character can give to the rest of the team? Include effect that are dependent on position (thrown items, including throwing range/AOE, etc); Always On boosts (Motifs, alchemical items, etc); or boosts that you can give, but that costs resources. Also, please indicate how long temporary/positional boosts last. Position-Dependent Effects: Optional Boosts: Constant or Daily Boosts: Resistances and Immunities: What defenses does your character have? Do they have any Resistance/Immunities, or other special defenses (Evasion, Uncanny Dodge, etc)? This section is especially important as sometimes, during the course of character creation, people sometimes inadvertently end up with 'Puzzle Defenses' that are nearly impossible to get through without ridiculous and nigh impossible combinations of attacks/talents/powers. Condition Immunities: Energy Resistance/Immunity: Damage Reduction: Special Defenses: Senses and Stealth: Tell me what sense your character always has (or has most of the day; 1hr/CL type things); what temporary senses they can call up (anything with a duration of only a couple hours or minutes), and what (if any) stealth effects you have like Lurker or Hide in Plain Sight or anything that will foil special senses. Constant Senses: Temporary Senses: Stealth Effects: That should be a good starting place. I may ask for more information as we go.

Just a quick followup. All apps other than the final six can now be found in the archives.

Just a quick followup. All apps other than the final six can now be found in the archives.

My sincere pleasure Lancer. I love coming up with new and interesting ways to bend PF/Spheres rules to make them fit my particular vision. It can be difficult, but also very rewarding.

Well, it's taken me several days, and TONS of skull sweat...plus a few hours of hemming and hawing, but I've finally decided on the final posse for the game. I had originally only planned to bring four riders on this little adventure, then I upped it to five, because the finished apps were just that damn good. I finally had to add a sixth slot, because every time I started writing out the list of five, this one app just kept worming it's way into my forebrain. So I finally gave in, and decided to just go for it. So here they are, the Drifters who'll be roaring down the Broken Road. : Andi "Tinker" Giovanni; hardcore mechanic and...well...just pretty damn hardcore : Johnny Sheridan; crazy prepared prepper guy and trapmeister extraordinaire : River 'Doc' Moore; rogue chemist prescribing pain to the Freaks : Mabel Faith Mensah; professional badass with a heart of gold : Janine 'Diamond' Platt; geek with attitude, stomping freaks with high tech gusto : Michael Johnsson; engineer and scout with the soul of a true Viking You should all expect invites to the game as well as links to the Discord I set up for us to keep in contact. If you dont have a Discord account...you should get one, they're great! And totally free. 😁 I would, once again, like to sincerely and deeply thank everyone who applied. You folks make all this worthwhile, and I appreciate every single one of you. And, if you're ever still interested in giving one of my bouts of RPG insanity a whirl, know that I have a pretty strong DM bump, and at some point, I'll definitely be starting some other crazy assed adventure on MW. Until then, take care, and be well. I'll be leaving the game in Open mode for a bit still, in case anyone wants to edit/save their characters or make any final posts, then it's going to switch to Read Only so that only the PC's and I will be able to post. My DM's are always open if you want to chat about something though. Thanks again, and we'll see you out there!

Well, it's taken me several days, and TONS of skull sweat...plus a few hours of hemming and hawing, but I've finally decided on the final posse for the game. I had originally only planned to bring four riders on this little adventure, then I upped it to five, because the finished apps were just that damn good. I finally had to add a sixth slot, because every time I started writing out the list of five, this one app just kept worming it's way into my forebrain. So I finally gave in, and decided to just go for it. So here they are, the Drifters who'll be roaring down the Broken Road. : Andi "Tinker" Giovanni; hardcore mechanic and...well...just pretty damn hardcore : Johnny Sheridan; crazy prepared prepper guy and trapmeister extraordinaire : River 'Doc' Moore; rogue chemist prescribing pain to the Freaks : Mabel Faith Mensah; professional badass with a heart of gold : Janine 'Diamond' Platt; geek with attitude, stomping freaks with high tech gusto : Michael Johnsson; engineer and scout with the soul of a true Viking You should all expect invites to the game as well as links to the Discord I set up for us to keep in contact. If you dont have a Discord account...you should get one, they're great! And totally free. 😁 I would, once again, like to sincerely and deeply thank everyone who applied. You folks make all this worthwhile, and I appreciate every single one of you. And, if you're ever still interested in giving one of my bouts of RPG insanity a whirl, know that I have a pretty strong DM bump, and at some point, I'll definitely be starting some other crazy assed adventure on MW. Until then, take care, and be well. I'll be leaving the game in Open mode for a bit still, in case anyone wants to edit/save their characters or make any final posts, then it's going to switch to Read Only so that only the PC's and I will be able to post. My DM's are always open if you want to chat about something though. Thanks again, and we'll see you out there!

Application process is officially closed. Ad is shut down. I'll be going over my short list, and making some final decisions, and will post the results sometime reasonably soon, probably no later than tomorrow afternoon/evening. Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who chose to invest some of their precious time in my particular shade of nonsense. 😁

Notable Personages Deacon St John Sarah Whitaker-St John Boozer etc