/nation/ - Nationbuilding Games

>>330
Fill out the following
>Name: Ezekiel
>Fluff: Before the shitstorm, Ezekiel was known as John Doe. He was a farmer of some descrpetion, but he happened to be in the big city when shit went down. He ran, hid in the biggest building he could find. It turned out to be a church. But that didn't matter. There was only one thing to read, and that thing was the bible. The meek shall inherrit the earth? Ezekiel would show them how meek he could be.
>Location: Urban

Don't fill in the following
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>>330
>Name: Lt. Aephod
>Fluff: Once he and his comade Lt. Remus were. Once, they were part of a squad of soldiers served the United States Military in keeping the peace and ensuring order even as the war against the alien raged on. He had his flamethrower, Remus had his assault rifle.

Then the war turned away from the aliens and onto the ground. As fire rained from the heavens, they were ordered to shoot and put down any rioters and anarchist and maintain order at all cost. And so that's what they continued to do.

They continued even as it was clear they were horribly outnumbered.

They continued even as the rivers of blood flowed under their feet.

They continued even when the radio signals from command shut off.

They continued even as they dealt with mutiny.

And continued when they were the only two of their squad left.

Now he and his companion do as they have always done and will do to the last, follow their directive until further orders. All rioters will be shot, bandits will be put down, and the city will be brought to order.

>Location: Urban

Jumping on the post-apoc train eh? I can't complain, it diverts responsibility from me.

>>330
>Name: Jeremy Nesbitt
>Fluff: Nesbitt was a meager bank teller before the End, short-changing old ladies out of their pensions. All he ever really wanted to do was lie back and read. Now that the war has quieted and the outsiders are gone, he finally has time to catch up on his reading. All the time in the world.
>Location: The local library, or what's left of it.

Don't fill in the following
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>>330
>Name: Carl McDole.
>Fluff:
Carl is the kind of guy who would make the stereotype of the police seem like reality. Overweight, asking questions after shooting and a will to exploit his position for his own gains. While anyone else would be more deserving of his place, he somehow survived through to see the dawn of humanity's dusk, living in the police station and working with what is supposed to be one of the last, fighting remains of order: The Canadian Police.
>Location: A Police Station.
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

Fill out the following
>Name: Lefen
>Fluff: Before the war Lefen was a member of the Vendetta's gang. Wearing guy faux mask they robbed and killed who they wanted and when they wanted. A major gang that was throughout new york, Lefan was a top enforcer for the gang. When the war broke out though the gang lost alot of its…clients, and when new york was bombed most of the gang died. During the bombing Lefan grabbed the mask of the few members he considered friends who died, took a few guns, and got the hell out of the city. On the way he found another gang member, a wimp named Keel not cut out for a gang. Lefan grabbed Keel, deciding not to leave the kid to die, gave him a gun, and headed out. Lefan and Keel hid and scavenged where thry could as anarchy reighned. Eventually, after fighting and scavenging the whole way they made it to Ontario. Still with the mask of his dead gangers, and only some guns and ammo left, 2 pistols for him and one for keel, Lefan decided to revive the gang. This place is civilized, just barely, and where theres civilization theres a hiearchy. Its time for the Vendetta's to rise again, and with Lefan and Keel at the head, hardened from fighting and surviving for years, there wont be any stopping The New Vendetta's.
>Location:Mask factory

Don't fill in the following
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>Name: Stanislav
>Fluff:
What did Stanislav do before? It doesn't matter. By the time the bombs fell and the doomsday that was to end life as they knew it once and for all dawned upon humanity and plunged the Red Square in it's magnificent radioactive glory Stanislav was half a world away in the Eastern Russian wastes with nothing but ice, forest and vodka to keep him company.
Having dug up a rifle from some ancient Soviet bunker he made his perilous journeys East, finding one city more devastated than the last, charred corpses and cannibals gnawing on them. Stanislav had no understanding for their failing as human beings.
He continued onward further and further passing zones of heavy irradiation ever too closely in his fond belief that vodka would ensure that he would never get ill. That was his belief unstill he began to cough up blood. But time passed and he grew accustomed to it. A bit of blood here and there. Shallow breath. Others had it worse than he did.
Finally he came to a coast. Asian refugees with a boat were ready to take off to what they believed would be the last safe haven on earth. He did not understand them, but they did not refuse the grim stranger a place on their boat.
It was then that after long months of continuing his travels Stanislav came to Ontario. A hole to die in just as good as any other.
>Location: Ontario, duh

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>>334
Ezekiel wakes up, ready to spend another day in The Cathedral Church of St. James. The church, while in ruins and covered in a thick layer of ash, still holds much of the grandeur it once did.

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [The Holy Bible]
>Skills: [Basic Agriculture] [Basic Negotiation]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Servant of The Lord] Ezekiel has memorized every word of the bible, making interactions with those who still hold the faith much easier.

>>335
Lt. Aephod completes yet another patrol in the cracked and dusty streets of old Toronto. Protocol must be maintain. Order must be established. These are your directives. Do not fail, Lieutenant.

>Status: Twitchy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Gas Mask] [C7A1 Assault Rifle, 29 Rounds] [Combat Knife]
>Skills: [Advanced Marksmanship] [Basic Combat]
>Companions: [Lt. Remus – C7A1 Assault Rifle, 23 Rounds]
>Bonus: [Long Forgotten Wars] – Lt. Aephod is under orders to maintain the Military Exclusion Zone, at all costs. This is his prime directive, and it will not be ignored – Vigilamus pro Te!
[Paranoia] – The enemy could be anywhere, no-one is to be trusted – Penalties to diplomacy with any non-military personnel
[Must be the cold…] – Lt. Aephod has acquired the shakes. It must be the cold!

>>336
Jeremy Nesbitt spends yet another day pouring through ancient tomes. The City Hall library is in shambles, but many of the books have survived "The End"

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills: [Advanced History] [Advanced Mathematics] [Advanced Literature] [Basic General Knowledge]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Swindler] – Particularly adept at persuading others to part with their belongings

>>338
Carl McDole is one of the few men remaining trying to hold what's left of this city together. Him and his fellow officers have made a base of operation in the basement of a shelled out police station.

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [P220 Handgun – 8 Rounds]
>Skills: [Basic Marksmanship] [Basic Law Enforcement]
>Companions: [Officer Caldwell] [Officer Weston]
>Bonus: [Fat Pig] – Penalties to Athletics, but can survive for longer at [Extreme Hunger]

>>340
Lefen and Keel have finally arrived in the shelled out city of Toronto. While it may have been spared from the worst of "The End", it certainly isn't in good shape.

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Vendetta Mask x 3] [Colt .45 Revolver – 6 Rounds]
>Skills: [Basic Marksmanship] [Basic Combat]
>Companions: [Keel – Vendetta Mask, Baseball Bat]
>Bonus: [V is for Vendetta] – While wearing a “Vendetta” Mask, Lefen intimidates other survivors – Severe Penalties to Diplomacy

>>341
Rusty Red-Beard sits by his fire, sheltered by the shell of an old coffeeshop, gnawing on what used to be a man's thigh. Excellently cooked, but perhaps the texture could be improved if cooked for longer over a lower-heated flame? So many possibilities…

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: None
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Menagerie of Knives] [Fresh Long-Pig]
>Skills: [Advanced Cooking] [Advanced Deception]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Charming Bastard] – Bonuses to luring in unsuspecting survivors
[Hunt for the Long Pig] – When eating food other than human flesh, Rusty Red-Beard is left dissatisfied and wanting more

>>342
Stanislav arrives in yet another hell-hole along the coast of Lake Ontario, coughing yet more blood onto his sleeve.

>Status: Slightly Sick
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Vodka Bottle] [AK-47, 19 Rounds]
>Skills: [Basic Marksmanship] [Basic Combat] [Basic Endurance]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Irradiated] – Stanislav has spent too long in a contaminated zone, and is feeling the effects. His sickness is manageable for now, but will only get worse with time.
[Mother Russia!] – English is not Stanislav’s first language, as such he suffers minor penalties to conversation with Non-Russians.

>>339
Will Morrison sorts through old and battered electronics, sifting through the remains of an old computer store…

>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Screwdriver]
>Skills: [Advanced Electrician] [Advanced Engineering] [Basic Handyman]
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

Rolled 55, 74, 78 = 207 (3d100)

>>343
>Name: Stanislav
>Fluff:
Stanislav.
>Location: Ontario, duh

>Status: Slightly Sick
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
+ [Vodka Bottle]
+ [AK-47, 19 Rounds]
>Skills:
+ [Basic Marksmanship]
+ [Basic Combat]
+ [Basic Endurance]
>Companions: None
>Bonus:
+ [Irradiated] – Stanislav has spent too long in a contaminated zone, and is feeling the effects. His sickness is manageable for now, but will only get worse with time.
+ [Mother Russia!] – English is not Stanislav’s first language, as such he suffers minor penalties to conversation with Non-Russians.

1-2. "Like a giantic bear from the East. The sheep wander aimlessly without any cause, Yet the soviet bear's on the hunt.", Stanislav grumbled the old march song as he stumbled through the bleak waste that was Ontario. "All those with us are strong, all those against us.. be-wa-re.", he read the last word from the sign that was hanging on about chest height. It was hanging around a skeleton's neck that had been pierced on a mix of a pillar and a spear. Be-wa-re. For a second the Russian pondered. Odd letters these Americans used. They were odd anyway. Not to be trusted. Every Russian knew that.
Softly Stanislav took the AK that was on a strap into his hands and clipped off the safety. With a satisfying click it came off. Perhaps this would be a good day for Stanislav. Only few people market their territories like this, mostly the ones that left interesting things behind when they departed from this world.
Slowly Stanislav's dull eyes wandered across the surroundings, there was nothing else that would have indicated any territorial claims. If he was lucky they wouldn't be fortified and had a camp further ahead. If they were bad people he could shoot them and take their things.
The Russian gave his gun a concerned look. Hopefully there wouldn't be more than 19 bad people. Or he would have to hit them dead with his rifle. Not that it couldn't take it, it was just in surprisingly good shape until now.

3. Bullets. Stanislav needed bullets. Perhaps he would find some.

>>351
Name: Father Omalley
Fluff: Father was sent to Ontario to try to make gather a flock of his own before the apocalypse happened and did his best to defend his sheep with a metal-bound bible that was good for zambie smashing and a sharpened cross to lead the people through this town that lies in the shadow of death. The Church he had put the support of his friends and family into had collapsed when a semi carrying a load of zambies has pulverized not only his sacred house to God but his worshipers as well.
Location: Country


Status: Healthy
Hunger: Low
Thirst: Low
Inventory:
Skills:
Companions: None
Bonus:

>>330

Fill out the following
>Name: Artyom
>Fluff: Artyom came from the old country, he was a stalker in the Russian metro, and had lived there for much of his adult life. He was tasked, as all stalkers are, of maintaining the isolation of the metro from the horrible mutants outside, notably the silent ones, horrible mutated humans who resemble their past selves very little. After the station he was raised in was razed to the ground by a neo-fascist group known as "The Fifth Reich". He left the metro to brave the wilderness alone. He trekked across much of Siberia and the Eurasian continent, making it to the siberian sea port of Pevek. After resupplying here he managed to find a working ice breaker and enough people to crew it, and set off for the northern North American continent, hoping that a land so peaceful as Canada would have some spots untouched by the fallout from the Flame Deluge. After reaching a port along the Alaskan coast, he and his new compatriots split ways and set off into the wilderness, hoping to find somewhere untouched by the cesium bombs.
>Location: The wilderness

Don't fill in the following
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>Name: Franko The Funmaster (Frank Berron)
>Fluff: Franko was a friend of the children. A skilled entertainer working as a clown at the Whispering Oaks carnival in Georgia, USA. Unlike most clowns who seemed to turn to such a job because they were horrible at everything else, Franko always wanted to make people laugh in a silly way. He tried stand up comedy, that didn't work out. He didn't like the adult theme. He tried sitcoms. Didn't work out either; he isn't one to memorize scripts. But after picking up the horn and the mask, Franko became a different person. The kids loved him, even the kids who were frightened by clowns seemed to lose their fear at the warm smile of Franko when he saw their formerly scared face. He was a being that strived on happiness and laughter– even when the Strangers came. Franko never saw one in person, but he always wondered if aliens laughed. They didnt. They were mad. When the strangers came to the US, they hit Georgia during Field Trip day. Franko could only remember chaos and screaming as he tried to run away with his big floppy clown shoes. The confused children were in the middle of laughing before they noticed the oncoming soldiers. Franko actually heard a scream before, and he didnt like the sound. It was loud. Harsh. Very loud, and very harsh. The blood was as red as his nose. It made Franko sad. It made Franko mad. It made Franko VERY mad.

Franko found an axe.

Franko was mad.

/mad/

>Location: Georgia, USA
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

>>343
Fill out the following
>Name: Bob Billdar
>Fluff: Bob comes from a long line of masons and construction workers, the Billdar crew being formed back during the colonial era when Ontario was still under french control. Since that time, the Billdars have undergone many changes in their preferred client and their size but their philosphy has stayed the same. If it can be built, they will build it. When the bombs fell, the entire Billdar clan retreated to their personal bomb shelters of which each of them had constructed personally. Some of them were constructed better than others and some frankly sucked, this has left very few Billdars alive. That is of no matter for Bob though, he is now the lead patriarch of the Billdar family and he has gathered them around the city hall. They will build a new future starting with the government and hopefully some machine gun nests.
>Location: City Hall.

Don't fill in the following
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory:
>Skills:
>Companions: None
>Bonus:

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>344
Strolling through the streets with a skip in his step and a baseball bat slung across his shoulder, whistling a merry tune, Keel makes surprisingly good progress, navigating his way past the charred wreckage that litters the crumbling streets of Toronto. He manages to avoid all the crazies for once, it seems like that part of the city is totally deserted. Wow!
Searching through the abandoned apartments, Keel manages to find what seems like an old panic room, still laden with supplies. Everything from Kerosene to Canned Food, still preserved after all these years. Wow! Everything is turning up Keel today! Keel wonders why other survivors haven’t looted these supplies, Toronto must be full of fools, eh?
Suddenly, a can of peaches falls to the ground behind him. He’s not alone. Turning to face this new intruder, Keel finds himself staring into the yellow eyes of one of the Strangers…
Fuck.

>Roll 1d100 for Keel’s combat, and respond with tactics
Meanwhile, you search through room after room, to no avail. It seems like scavengers have already picked this part of the city clean. But The Vendetta Gang won’t be deterred so easily! You bust your way into a dusty old convenience store, only to find it’s already occupied. Two rugged men jump to their feet, dropping a pair of water bottles, and grabbing the heavy metal pipes they had lying next to them.

“You’d best the walking the other way, nutter. We’ve claimed this joint, and we’re in no mood to share.”

>Respond to scavengers, and roll 1d100 for combat if necessary
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate

>>344
You take to sharpening your blades with enthusiasm, excited for all the new possibilies! Who are you to eat next, how would you prepare it? Lost in thought, you damage one of your precious blades in carelessness. Damn. If you run into any Korean Women, you’ll be out of luck… Even worse, the streets seemed abandoned, and you’ll have to go without a fresh meal.
But your theories must not be postponed by such a tragic disaster! This art must be perfected, then recorded for generations to come. Your skill will not be forgotten. Luckily, there’s not much use for notebooks nowadays, and you can begin writing your recipes down in a leatherback journal you find.
> +[Cookbook]
>Thirst: Moderate
>Hunger: Low

Cont…

>>346
Provisions are low. This situation is unacceptable, a solider must always be well fed. A hungry solider is a careless one. The situation must be rectified. You requisition supplies in the form of canned beans and bottled water from a civilian domicile. Every citizen must do their part, even when not present.

Several bottles of contraband alcohol are discovered. Unacceptable for a citizen of Canada, if the property owner is located, justice will be dispensed, and punishment will be given under Section 7 protocols. These are also requisitioned as to be made into improvised incendiaries, to help serve the cause.

Routine patrols of sector 4 are completed. An unarmed individual in discovered out past curfew, AND in the military exclusion zone, both unforgivable violations. She gave a pitiful excuse, claiming to be searching for medicine for her sick daughter. She claimed her name was Anna, and showed you a picture of her daughter, Maggie, while begging for mercy. You have heard similar excuses many times, and you will not be fooled. All civilians were evacuated from Toronto with accordance to orders from high command years ago.

>Decide what to do with Anna as a FREE ACTION
> + [Canned Beans] +2 [Bottled Water] + 4 [Molotov Cocktail]
> Food and water may be consumed as a FREE ACTION
> Hunger: Moderate
> Thirst: Moderate

>>347
Many of the more practical goods have been taken, but a large number of computers have been left intact. You manage to salvage a large amount of wires, and even a working motherboard! Many other generic computer parts are still functioning, and you take these along as well, just in case.

Unfortunately, all the chargers left behind were either broken or stolen. You’re out of luck there.
> + [Large Amount of Wires] + [Motherboard] + [Computer Parts]
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate

>>349
You slowly march down a rough path, spotting smoke on the horizon. More signs litter the landscape, most written in crude writing, in the western letters. You have trouble making out the words, but considering they’re written in blood makes the intent clear, even to you.
You begin seeing bones, gnawed on and cracked open. You know enough about cannibals from back home to know what this means… Marching songs leave your mind, and you wonder if perhaps the signs had some merit to them. You stifle yet another bloody cough, and try your best to stay quiet from here on out.
You hear voices from across a nearby ridge, likely the source of the earlier smoke, scents of cooked flesh wafting over you direction. Screams of pain, and frantic cheering can be heard. These were quite definitely bad people…

A few corpses lie nearby, and after searching them, you manage to salvage and handful of .45 shells. Practically useless to you, but if you find a handgun, it’ll be a different story.

>+[Pistol Bullets, 5]
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate

>>354
Artyom walks through what was once a forest, but has been reduced to barren trunks and splintered pines. The forest is obscured by dust, and a man would have trouble seeing more than a dozen feet in front of himself. He walks a long and lonesome road, and perhaps a perilous one.
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Gas Mask] [AK-47, 15 Rounds]
>Skills:
+[Basic Marksmanship]
+[Basic Stealth]
+[Basic Endurance]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Mother Russia!] – English is not Artyom’s first language, as such he suffers minor penalties to conversation with Non-Russians.


>>355
Franko leaves his fun-house behind him, determined to bring joy to the children of this tortured world. By ANY means necessary.
>Status: Healthy
>Hunger: Low
>Thirst: Low
>Inventory: [Blood Smeared Axe]
>Skills:
+ [Advanced Combat]
+ [Master Clowning]
>Companions: None
>Bonus: [Think of the Children!] – Franko is incapable of harming a child or allowing one to come to harm.
[Clowning Around] – Franko suffers major penalties to interacting with adults, and major bonuses to interacting with children.

>>357
You speak with passion, you speak with vigor, and you give a sermon worthy of the lord. But unfortunately, there is no-one to hear your sermon or join you in prayer.

You check the barren earth once more, and the result is the same as always. Nothing but dried up earth. There’s nothing green for miles. But you do not give up hope. For as the lord proclaimed in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
And the lord does give you hope. He blesses upon you a gift, for you discover a storehouse that still has bounties left to offer. He is merciful indeed. You will not go hungry while serving him, may he be blessed.
> + 2 [Canned Food], + [Bottled Water], + [Shovel]
>Thirst: Moderate
>Hunger: Moderate

>>360
You and your fellow officers make good progress reclaiming the station, although you yourself take a less active role in the hauling of rubble. Soon, the station has been cleared of debris, and the holes in the floor have been boarded over, but something still has to be done about the caved in roof and shattered windows…

While all the donuts had been spoiled years ago, you still manage to scavenge some coffee and stale bread from the nearby Tim Horton’s
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate
>[Shelled Out Police Station 4/8]
> + [Stale Bread], + 2 [Cup of Coffee]

>>362
Oh golly gee are you hungry! You’re going to have to join in the scavenging with all the other plebeians of the city, the fiends and vagabonds! Luckily, it appears you’re quite good at it, and you manage to sneak through the city and grab a handful of Granola Bars from a nearby store, surprisingly still left lying around.

But perhaps you sneak a little too well, for the looters and fiends walk into the store without even noticing you. One of them sits down directly in front of your hiding spot, an old refrigerator. You spot an perilously sharp knife at his hip, and perhaps, with deft fingers, you could nick it from under his nose!
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate
>+ 3 [Granola Bar]

Rolled 76, 4 = 80 (2d100)

>>371
>Name: Stanislav
>Fluff:
Stanislav.
>Location: Ontario, duh

>Status: Slightly Sick
>Hunger: Moderate
>Thirst: Moderate
>Inventory:
+ [Vodka Bottle]
+ [AK-47, 19 Rounds]
+ [Pistol Bullets, 5]
>Skills:
+ [Basic Marksmanship]
+ [Basic Combat]
+ [Basic Endurance]
>Companions: None
>Bonus:
+ [Irradiated] – Stanislav has spent too long in a contaminated zone, and is feeling the effects. His sickness is manageable for now, but will only get worse with time.
+ [Mother Russia!] – English is not Stanislav’s first language, as such he suffers minor penalties to conversation with Non-Russians.

1-2. There was not much time to be wasted. Stanislav would wait for nightfall, it would show itself how well guarded their camp was. Either way attacking them in the cover of darkness would do Stanislav good. Perhaps he could take out a guard or two quietly, drench the tents in Vodka and light them up. They would come scurrying out and be easy prey. Of course some ressources would be lost but not getting killed would be worth it.