Star Wars: Galaxy In Crisis OOC
- Thread starter LuckyVic
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ChasNicollette
Allons-y Means Let's Go.
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Ouch.
Yeah. That's the one. It's just, the robots in question seem to share a similar disposition towards organic life, to wit: unfavourable. I didn't think the allusion was entirely off-base.
Jedi_Khan
Lit's Resident Jedi
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Hm...yes, all HK models seem to have the same quirk, meaning they are all bloodthirsty and dislike organics. And keep in mind that Aagh has two of these killers in his possession. Yeah, things are going to be interesting.
And judgeing from the little I know of Bender and Futurama, Bender just hates organics, but can do very little about it, unlike the HK's of course, which are more than capable of dealing with meatbags.
And judgeing from the little I know of Bender and Futurama, Bender just hates organics, but can do very little about it, unlike the HK's of course, which are more than capable of dealing with meatbags.
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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Right, so after chatting with Vic for a bit, he agreed to let me dive into the pool.
So here's my reasonably brief character bio:
Growing up on Nar Shaddaa is a perilous business, especially for a human. Down below, where no natural light penetrates, Sev Kistin's family eked out a meager existance as shopkeepers, always scrabbling to stay afloat in a world of dangerous gang warfare, where on any given 'night' a gang war could lead to a new overlord and a new set of protection fees.
In this gloomy underworld, Sev grew up hearing tales of the world above and the galaxy beyond, a world of light and plenty, a galaxy where the Hutts and their lackeys did not lord over all. The dreams of the galaxy beyond fired his imagination and gave him a determination to escape the underside of the Hutt moon, but only a chance encounter with a destitute ex-freighter captain gave him the means to escape.
"If there's one thing the galaxy never has enough of, kid, it's engineers. Ya learn how to squeeze one more jump out of a three hundred year old Kuat SI-460, and somebody'll haul you off this rock. 'Course, squeezin' out one more jump is what landed me here, so take it for what it's worth."
Given a method to focus on for his dream, Sev pursued it with a passion. The resulting mechanical experiments initially caused his family considerable grief, but soon enough he was reparing and fine-tuning the balky old equipment in the store, and even selling out his services in the neighborhood. Before long, he'd become notable enough to receive an 'offer' from a local swoop gang. The blaster to his mother's head was a fairly convincing negotiating tool, albeit one that the Screaming Mynocks would come to regret a couple of years later.
The night of the yearly low-city swoop tournament, Sev made sure the Mynock swoops were properly 'tuned up' before making his exit. During the final race, four bikes experienced severe mechanical failures in their shields and drives, leading to three fatalities and a surprise attack by a rival gang. By the time the shooting had stopped, the Mynocks had been virtually wiped out, and Sev collected what was for him a sizable payoff. Enough to get to the upper levels, enough to get him to the docks. From there, it was on him to make the most of the opportunity. He was fifteen.
***
"That's the prettiest karkin' ship I ever saw," Sev muttered, looking out through the armorscreen at the Munificient-class star frigate Canleon.
The Confederacy of Independent Systems was in dire need of manpower, especially trained mechanics and engineers. Sev had barely finished the month and a half of training. He'd already made more cred from the IGBC payoff in the past two months than he'd made in, well, his entire seven-year career, and the chance to work on state of the art Vulture droid starfighters was a dream come true. The politics of the matter didn't interest him; the powers above oppressed those below was the rule he'd learned in the undercity of Nar Shaddaa, and he'd seen nothing yet to persuade him that the galaxy worked much differently anywhere else, only differing in the veneer covering the inevitable corruption.
Freedom was a pocket full of creds and the ability to move on to the next job when the last one fell through. He'd learned that lesson and stuck with it through any number of trips across the rim and core. This was looking to be one sweet job, though.
***
Sev didn't look back. There was nothing worth seeing, and he didn't want another glimpse of Mygeeto to remember. After the Canleon had been blasted out of orbit (not before taking two damned Venators with it, he remembered with pride), he'd spent the next three months tacking together battle droids and SBs from the blasted remnants the Geonosian scav squads would bring back. Like the med station next door, he and the other mechanics ran an all-day, all-night business, patching up the metal and meat to feed back into the grinder known as the GAR. They'd thought they could hold, they really had, until the karking 501st had shown up and carved straight through their defenses. Only the strange events at the end of the battle had bought time for any survivors to evacuate, and Sev had made sure he was on one of the outbound transports.
***
Dooku was dead. Grievous was dead. The CIS was reeling. No, the CIS was gone. The job was up, time to go. With a blaster on his hip and a large case towed behind him, Sev faded away from the other IGBC employees not quite so quick on the uptake. He'd kept his creds close to hand instead of in a company account, and now it was time to move on to the next job.
---------------------------------------
Appearance- Sev Kistin is the sort of man who seems larger than he is, with the brawny physique that comes from hard labor and not meticulous exercises. His skin is pale and prone to burning easily, an artifact of a childhood deprived of natural light. He keeps his dark hair shaven meticulously, but strangely tends not to show the same care for his beard, leaving him a regular light sheen of stubble. Typically he wears simple utility overalls covered with faded, well-laundered lubricant stains. He carries a blaster on his hip, but in a fight he tends to prefer a simple length of pressure tubing that tends to somehow always be close at hand. "Blasters kark up. Pipe doesn't."
So here's my reasonably brief character bio:
Growing up on Nar Shaddaa is a perilous business, especially for a human. Down below, where no natural light penetrates, Sev Kistin's family eked out a meager existance as shopkeepers, always scrabbling to stay afloat in a world of dangerous gang warfare, where on any given 'night' a gang war could lead to a new overlord and a new set of protection fees.
In this gloomy underworld, Sev grew up hearing tales of the world above and the galaxy beyond, a world of light and plenty, a galaxy where the Hutts and their lackeys did not lord over all. The dreams of the galaxy beyond fired his imagination and gave him a determination to escape the underside of the Hutt moon, but only a chance encounter with a destitute ex-freighter captain gave him the means to escape.
"If there's one thing the galaxy never has enough of, kid, it's engineers. Ya learn how to squeeze one more jump out of a three hundred year old Kuat SI-460, and somebody'll haul you off this rock. 'Course, squeezin' out one more jump is what landed me here, so take it for what it's worth."
Given a method to focus on for his dream, Sev pursued it with a passion. The resulting mechanical experiments initially caused his family considerable grief, but soon enough he was reparing and fine-tuning the balky old equipment in the store, and even selling out his services in the neighborhood. Before long, he'd become notable enough to receive an 'offer' from a local swoop gang. The blaster to his mother's head was a fairly convincing negotiating tool, albeit one that the Screaming Mynocks would come to regret a couple of years later.
The night of the yearly low-city swoop tournament, Sev made sure the Mynock swoops were properly 'tuned up' before making his exit. During the final race, four bikes experienced severe mechanical failures in their shields and drives, leading to three fatalities and a surprise attack by a rival gang. By the time the shooting had stopped, the Mynocks had been virtually wiped out, and Sev collected what was for him a sizable payoff. Enough to get to the upper levels, enough to get him to the docks. From there, it was on him to make the most of the opportunity. He was fifteen.
***
"That's the prettiest karkin' ship I ever saw," Sev muttered, looking out through the armorscreen at the Munificient-class star frigate Canleon.
The Confederacy of Independent Systems was in dire need of manpower, especially trained mechanics and engineers. Sev had barely finished the month and a half of training. He'd already made more cred from the IGBC payoff in the past two months than he'd made in, well, his entire seven-year career, and the chance to work on state of the art Vulture droid starfighters was a dream come true. The politics of the matter didn't interest him; the powers above oppressed those below was the rule he'd learned in the undercity of Nar Shaddaa, and he'd seen nothing yet to persuade him that the galaxy worked much differently anywhere else, only differing in the veneer covering the inevitable corruption.
Freedom was a pocket full of creds and the ability to move on to the next job when the last one fell through. He'd learned that lesson and stuck with it through any number of trips across the rim and core. This was looking to be one sweet job, though.
***
Sev didn't look back. There was nothing worth seeing, and he didn't want another glimpse of Mygeeto to remember. After the Canleon had been blasted out of orbit (not before taking two damned Venators with it, he remembered with pride), he'd spent the next three months tacking together battle droids and SBs from the blasted remnants the Geonosian scav squads would bring back. Like the med station next door, he and the other mechanics ran an all-day, all-night business, patching up the metal and meat to feed back into the grinder known as the GAR. They'd thought they could hold, they really had, until the karking 501st had shown up and carved straight through their defenses. Only the strange events at the end of the battle had bought time for any survivors to evacuate, and Sev had made sure he was on one of the outbound transports.
***
Dooku was dead. Grievous was dead. The CIS was reeling. No, the CIS was gone. The job was up, time to go. With a blaster on his hip and a large case towed behind him, Sev faded away from the other IGBC employees not quite so quick on the uptake. He'd kept his creds close to hand instead of in a company account, and now it was time to move on to the next job.
---------------------------------------
Appearance- Sev Kistin is the sort of man who seems larger than he is, with the brawny physique that comes from hard labor and not meticulous exercises. His skin is pale and prone to burning easily, an artifact of a childhood deprived of natural light. He keeps his dark hair shaven meticulously, but strangely tends not to show the same care for his beard, leaving him a regular light sheen of stubble. Typically he wears simple utility overalls covered with faded, well-laundered lubricant stains. He carries a blaster on his hip, but in a fight he tends to prefer a simple length of pressure tubing that tends to somehow always be close at hand. "Blasters kark up. Pipe doesn't."
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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There's a personality section that I wrote for Vic, but I prefer to let that sort of thing come out in portrayal rather than biographical exposition.
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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Ah, you mean the format. Yeah, I tend to write those sort of things out as they come to me instead of putting it together in a list-style manner. I'm a freeform kinda guy.
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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Thanks.
As for what Sev's up to... making a fast cred. He is very much a product of Nar Shaddaa culture.
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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Interesting notion. I'd say yeah, as a mythological figure.
ZRT
The 'Yarch's Ass Kicker
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Oh, I'm likin' Sev already.
Just wait until he trots out that old Nar Shaddaa line "Yeah, that'll happen when Jodo comes back."
Lightsaber Colors
I know that over the years, thanks to games and books there have been several color lightsaber blades over the years. But this is what we'll be going with in the game.
Jedi
Blue
Green
Purple (rare)
Yellow (rare)
Orange (rare)
Sith
Red
Now for someone like Yoda who has been around for 900 years, or another alien race that might live a few centuries. I'm considering adding a Silver and Black blades. But this will be legend only for now, because we may quest for them. havent' decided as yet.
I know that over the years, thanks to games and books there have been several color lightsaber blades over the years. But this is what we'll be going with in the game.
Jedi
Blue
Green
Purple (rare)
Yellow (rare)
Orange (rare)
Sith
Red
Now for someone like Yoda who has been around for 900 years, or another alien race that might live a few centuries. I'm considering adding a Silver and Black blades. But this will be legend only for now, because we may quest for them. havent' decided as yet.
Last edited:
V
Varshanka
Guest
saber blades
Isn't there a gold as well?
Isn't there a gold as well?
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