So I don't know much about Chicago. Is there actual normal civilization going on, or is it all guns n bugs? I guess I should have googled first. Seems like there's civilzation, but its pretty rough. I think my story will work :-).
I had a couple quick questions. For the fifty karma, are you saying that we can use it before the game starts but after chargen? Buying a positive quality for example would cost twice as much with the 50 karma, but you would have that quality for the first mission?
Second, how are we handling SIN's? Do we need to get good fake ones, or are our actions sanctioned (if we don't get buck wild)? Just curious!
I haven't done this many times, but I took a different approach than I have before. i hope you don't mind, but I liked it :-).
Alias: Chuck, Tex
Name: Charles Ray Mitchell
Metatype: Human
Age: 43
Desired Role: Direct Combat/Medic
Short Background (two paragraphs): "I've seen some drek, boy. I don't know if I'm lucky to be here, or if I'm just that good...I guess it don't matter none." Chuck fell silent as he pulled a drag on his cigar. "I been mercin since I was knee high to a grasshopper's hoop. I reckon ya don't pull through this many op's if ya ain't at least a bit good." He paused and looked at the boy standing in front of him with eyes to give the cutest pup a run for its money. "But it ain't all glam, kid. Frag the trids. It's dirty, and I done more drek than I seen. Its a paycheck to me now. Look into my cold eyes, kid. That'll be you one day if ya sign up. That's if you're good..or lucky. Ya might just end up bug chow."
"It ain't all bad I suppose. I done and I seen some drek, but this makes it all worth it." Chuck took one more drag from his cigar and flicked it at the kids feet. "All these years and I finally get to do some real good, boy. This outfit I'm in now ain't half bad..got some soul to it. Now we're here blastin bugs 'n helpin humanity. You make it as long as me, ya just might get to do some good." He stood up and rummaged through his pack, shuffling things around before pulling out a well worn Predator and handing it to the boy. "You're what, 15, 16, boy? I was younger 'n you when my father gave me my first gun. I started out just some backwoods kid outta Texas, and now I splat bugs in Chicago. Ya get good enough with that gun to hit 5 out of 6 shots from 40 meters you give this guy a call." He scribbled contact info on a napkin and handed it to the kid. "I got folks to meet up with now, boy." Chuck stepped away from his seat and shook the boys hand before walking away from dirty little soy taco van. "Good luck, chummer."
Short Physical Description (one to two paragraphs): Chuck's well built for an older guy. A trained eye might notice he's a little too well built. His head is always kept buzzed down, and some days his face is clean shaven, but most days the scruff shows that he can't be bothered. His eyes lack the spark you're accustomed to seeing in others, but his face is otherwise ordinary. He has no scars, and all the other bits are remarkably intact for a veteran like him. His laughter booms on the rare occasions when its drawn out. He has a deep, gruff voice with a Texas accent.
Charles "Chuck" Mitchell