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Who are you?

Discussion in 'Jumpgate Roleplay/In Game/IC' started by Fence, Feb 26, 2014.

  1. Fence

    Fence Magnate

    18
    Feb 12, 2014
    Ratings:
    +77 / 0 / -0
    This is a thread to post your pilots IC background. If you want to do it anonymously (i.e. you don't want to build separate forum accounts for different pilot callsigns and don't want your alts known), send it to me via e-mail (you can use a throwaway account) russ@conquestgaming.com and Fence will post it here for you. Then at some future time if you see him, /give him 50k in space.



    I am from Trivera, the over-crowded capital city of Ares Prime, host planet of Oct Core station. Orphaned early in life, I finally got tired of the urban street life (sewer life more like), and feeling the pinch from yet another famine several years back, I signed up with TRI to finally make some coin and a name for myself as an information mercenary. I'm an Oct, so I know how to fight, but I prefer to remain behind the scenes. My clients like it that way.

    See, many people make the mistake of thinking that all Octs are gun-toting slugs. But I'd say that's just ignorant stereotyping.
    My first real paying gig in space was disseminating information about those crazy Ad Infinitum bots. After that, I worked for both sides of an internal Hyperial struggle (that was nuts) several times, which would often pit Quantar forces against Sol, Oct or mercenary fleets. I started my own Unregulated Unaffiliated News Net to report on events I see (and sometimes have a hand in) while in space. Then later on, I helped those Pre-Collapse Solrains with similar names find some friends.

    Most recently, I was hired to convert the Brotherhood Olympics into something that all of TRI could enjoy.

    Putting a friendly, non-factional and non-judgmental face on things (when paid properly, of course) is what I do best, I guess.
     
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  2. Jump

    Jump Administrator Staff Member

    243
    May 22, 2004
    Ratings:
    +820 / 50 / -0
    Jump, the common nick for Jump Demon, is a Hyperion orphan who was adopted and raised by a Solrain family. He spent his youth living in Alexios the capital city of Amenra. He spent those days peering through a telescope watching the ships dock at Cornea station. And watching the departing ships disappear into that magical gateway to Tribular Canal. This created a yearning in his heart to join the reconstruction and to find his roots in the mysteries of Hyperial. Even today you can find him wandering the Hyperial sectors looking for answers.

    Much of JumpDemon's later years can be understood by reading his memoirs. Fict - Memoirs of a Reconstruction Pilot | Joystick Required Gaming Forums Though most of those memoirs were lost when the infamous traitor Moll destroyed most ancient documents and what's left is just the initial draft of the story. The completed story is lost forever.
     
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  3. jghyperion

    jghyperion Recruit

    3
    Feb 26, 2014
    Ratings:
    +3 / 0 / -0
    The old world is ended!
    After the destruction of the universe, Hyperial’s history stands on the remains of the
    Hyperial station at the same sector.
    We all have someone to remember. Many lost there families. There weren’t any distinction, from your King to the ordinary citizens.
    Our homes, monuments, culture, technology, were vanished.
    Some of as we spared and we fined our self’s dispersed to the only 3 remaining factions.

    Father is looking for lost son, and son for the lost father!

    We try to gather what is left, and move on.

    In memory of my lost children
    “Iapetus” “Selena” “Eos”


    Your King “Hyperion”
     
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  4. Fence

    Fence Magnate

    18
    Feb 12, 2014
    Ratings:
    +77 / 0 / -0
    So this was in my in-box. Enjoy.

    Fence/Broker/Ally



     
  5. spork

    spork Senior Magnate

    43
    Jan 17, 2005
    Ratings:
    +249 / 1 / -1
    If you have not read ZeroZ95's backstory above, you should before reading sporks.




    My name is Bob Hehl, cobbler from rural Perasca. How'd I get here? Bitter, bitter irony. That's how.

    In my youth, I had scrubby black hair. I was close with my cousin Dorna. Hell, everyone in our tiny village on Perasca was close. That's why it was such a shock when she married that city-boy-outsider, Karr. He raised his kids to question everything, even the Faith, spurning "ignorant stereotypes." I heard his boy ran off and joined TRI for Solrain, abandoning Quantar wholesale. Meh.

    But I taught my son that the faith of Hamalzah is so much larger than just the old texts. It's the air, the soil, the minerals, the planet, the space around us, the asteroids, the great gestalt of being Quantar. The oneness. Commune. This is Hamalzah...no, ALL OF THIS is just a fraction of Hamalzah, the shadow he casts upon our universe.

    In midlife, I had a bad comb-over. But I had found my niche in the great circle, that of a cobbler. Yes, I made boots: amazing mining boots. Footwear that made a miner's feet sigh when he took the boots off at the end of the day. And like any worthy Quant, I dabbled in the soil, mineral, and mines in my spare time. Hey, I had to test my boot designs, no?

    Compelled by my wife and son to share my boots with a bigger audience, I secured a booth at a mining trade show in the nearest "big" city. In my absence, our village was destroyed by a fragment of a Solrain Intensity that had unimaginably found the tiny angle of a reentry window. My village was now an impact crater. The only thing I found intact was an old sword.

    I went mad. For a year.

    When it finally faded, my only possessions were a chunk of Intensity, the robe on my back, the now-notched and rusty sword, and a pair of my mining boots on my feet. Oh, and a burning desire for vengeance.

    I also had no finger tips on the 4 fingers of my right hand. I have no memory of that year. I don't know if I bit my fingers off at the first knuckle, lost them in a bet, clawed against a stone prison cell, cut them off with my crappy sword, got in a bar fight, or what.

    After my lost year, and following the tradition of my ancestors, I laser-etched an oathstone, carried it into the midst of the Assembly House nearest my old village, read it aloud to the worshipers there to bear witness, shattered it on their floor, and walked to the nearest TRI recruiting center, several thousand clicks away so I could begin the business of finding that Solrain Bastard to slit his throat.

    These are the words I carved...


    Hey, it's a Quant thing. Lighten up.

    Sure, joining TRI would mean I could never come back planetside again, but I'd lost everything there anyway. Spaceborne Quantar claim that mining asteroids brings a new level of communion. I signed up with TRI, certain that I would become the most renound miner ever to ply the jumplanes, just as soon as I'd dealt with the Solrain Bastard. I was eager to try out some Bankers...rocklickers they called us. But they don't understand the Communion.

    A kid behind me in the recruiting line noted my 4 fingers and suggested that my hand looked like those "crappy utinsils they give you at a company picnic. You know, worst of both: neither a spoon nor a fork, a spork." I never worked for a company, nor attended their picnics. But when it was my turn to choose a callsign, I looked over my shoulder and grinned at the kid.

    The old TRI man sorting us nuggets out asked about my sword. "This? It...uh... belongs to my people." He nodded and pointed me toward a shuttle bound for Corridor.

    After my jumppilot surgery, I steered clear of the traditional method of leveling up the ranks for Quantar pilots: mining the noobie roids outside of QC. My oath forbade it until I'd iced that Solrain Bastard. Once I got a few levels, I made for Solrain to track him down using the fragment of his Intensity. I compared the wavelengths from it to literally a thousand of those stupid bananas before I got lucky.

    I waylayed him easily, the idiot. Had my knife to his throat in under a second. Imagine my shock when it was Dorna's boy. Time stopped while I considered going through with it anyway. But I could. Not. Kill. Dorna's boy. "YOU???" was all I could say. Then as I staggard away, the realization hit me. My vow. As long as Karr's kid rides the space lanes and my son's death is unrepaid, I can't mine.

    I'm a Quantar who cannot mine. I cannot commune with Hamalzah.

    I wept. A long time I wept.

    Weeks later, I found a brothel. She had kind eyes. She was a good listener. I'm told most prostitutes are (but I wouldn't know). We had a real connection. She stayed with me a week (stopped charging me after the second day). Then, I told her everything. And she left me the next morning while I slept. She left a note and went dirtside. Note said she loved me, but couldn't live with my brand of bitterness. I should look her up when I'd forgiven Karr and most importantly (said she) when I'd forgiven myself. I've kept my damn mouth shut about it since then.

    I wondered Quantar Core aimlessly between flights, and found a storefront with a simple moniker: The Stone Temple. I went in and became a monk of the Brotherhood of the Stone. I told them nothing of my story, only that mining was forbidden to me. I shaved my bad comb-over.

    As a Templar of the Brotherhood, I have fought many battles. I was a foot soldier in the EEA. One of the crafters of the QDA Charter, a worthy document describing a blessed aliance. Ambrosius and our band of Brothers became my new family. We built a grand Stone Temple station in Ekoos. I made my own modest station in KH, sporksfoons (it's a pun, see... forks, spoons, and Typhoons...it just works so many ways).

    Some battles were victories, others defeats. Until one day there were no more battles for me to fight. I felt the undeniable compulsion to meditate on the old texts. I dropped out of active duty, returned to the dusty storefront the Brotherhood still uses for recruiting, and I meditated for many long years. Grew a tight gray beard to compliment my bald head.

    When the Second Great Collapse was declared over and TRI pilots filled the space lanes again, I was doubtful. But I felt in my soul that my meditations were over...maybe less "over" and more "completed." It was time again for space under my feet, and this time with forgiveness in my heart.

    A few weeks later, I was headed for my Typhoon in QC's hangar bay, and saw a boy of around 10 years standing beside it. He had scrubby black hair, my nose, and unmistakeablly kind eyes.

    "you know who I am, mist..."
    For the second time in my life, time stopped. The engraved words of my oathstone flashed thorugh my head. Djoran Karr does not--cannot--fly the spacelanes... in fact, he had me preserve his callsign from any poachers, so I'm literally the only human who knows his launch-code. And yes, my son was long dead. Yet, here was so-obviously my son standing in front of me. I was free. Praise to Hamalzah, I was finally free.
    "...er?"

    "Yeah, kid. You're my salvation."
    He cocked an eyebrow.
    "Ever mine an asteroid, kid?"
    "no, sir"
    "Me neither. Want to? There's a pair of Storm shuttles right over there."
    He gave a toothy smile.
    "Kid, they say if you listen close, you can hear Hamalzah's voice when your mining lasers first kiss the roid..."

    Not long after, pilots coming and going from the always-busy Quantar Core station would see a level 40 Quantar veteran of so very many battles and a level 0 nugget launch in a pair of Storms.

    We made those noobie roids outside QC burn bluer than a Smurf's wallet.

    View attachment 1850

    F3: This is Quantar vessel "Miners Heart!" hailing all pilots in sector.
     
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  6. RazorsKiss

    RazorsKiss Senior Magnate

    28
    May 22, 2004
    Ratings:
    +5 / 0 / -0
    At the age of ten, I watched my father ship off to space to build some of the new "Jumpgates" sprouting up around the galaxy. My mother, a second-generation immigrant from Hyperial, felt out of place in Octavius. It was rough around home for a while. But, Octavians being who they are, the fact that my mother was from the planet that gave our pilots Barraks and Novas was more than enough, over time. We made it ok. His messages home were filled with pride and we treasured the mementos he sent us of the sparkling jewels he and his fellow workers crafted amongst the stars. He returned semi-regularly to meet us at Great Pillars when he got his always too-brief visits with his family. He regaled us with tales of oddity, mystery, and the vast reaches known only to those legends - the Thrice Seven. He was just a systems tech that worked on the final activation phase of the new Jumpgates, but we were so proud of him that we could have walked on air. My father worked in SPACE!

    Years passed, and all but a few of the Jumpgates were completed. I remember I was exactly 16 years, 156 standard days old when I saw the vid. I can give you the hour, too, if you want. "Freak accident kills technical staff members on routine jumpgate activation sequence." TRINN brought me the news of my Father's death - live and in three-dimensional hologram. I was due to enlist in the Octavian armed forces in 7 standard days. My formal schooling was complete, and my stint as a warrior was about to begin. My Father would never see his son fly.

    One year later, I received permission from the Martius Academy to visit the site where my Father met his death. My mother, now a Stellar Cartography Assistant, in order to pay the bills my father's nest egg could not provide, and that I could not yet help her with, opted not to join me to pay respects. Her field of expertise was the newly discovered unregulated region, namely the Saron's Shoulder and Pulsar region. Oddly enough - my Father died in Saron's Shoulder. Not 30k from my current home. She had enough reminders, I think.

    Fast forward two years, if you will. The "Aliens" are the topic of conversation. I told my mother she was crazy for still trying to finish up the survey of Pulsar, with those Aliens shooting everything they found. It was nuts. How could she...

    "Son, this data is important - more important than you know. We've had sensors set up in that sector nonstop since well before these "Conflux" arrived. I'm the only one that can retrieve those data canisters intact, and before their scheduled time for retrieval. I have to go."

    I felt helpless. In my last year of the academy, so close to eligibility for TRI pilot training I could taste it. OMEGA, UZI, ION...
    I was itching for one of those uniforms!

    Then I see a "breaking news story" on the vid in my workout room. "Scientist Meghal Kathtonar is missing after a trip into the "Pulsar" sector, epicenter of the conflict with the so-called "Conflux" spilling out all over space in recent days. Zhilaa Katdinal, Divisional Chief of the TRI Bureau of Stellar Cartography, said in a press conference today that her escape pod came back empty, for reasons unbeknownst to them at this time. Further bulletins will be...."

    I sat down heavily on my practice mat, still sweating heavily from a series of exercises. She couldn't have ... no, she would NOT have done this!

    She had put the data canister into the pod , knowing she was seconds away from destruction at the hands of 3 "fighter" class Conflux - now know as "Mantas". The information got back safely. She did not.

    So yes, I hate Mantas - and all Conflux. Anything from their filthy alien race must die.

    Right after graduation, I joined {ND} Falcon's "New Dawn". It was home immediately. I mastered all the Hunter ranks, and became Fleet Commander, along with my wingmates ZeroZ95 and Havik. I eventually became the CAG. Those were some of the best times in my life. Fighting the good fight, wreaking vengeance on my Mother's killers. Assisting TRI-R, leading the War.

    Something went wrong, though, on a mission to seek out the Thrice Seven. Practically everything after my rescue is fuzzy. I was badly injured - and Aelagi (an experimental AI based on the personality of Aelagi Montjoy, a pre-collapse Solrain cyberneticist, stuck in the interstices of the remaining energy from the Great Collapse) saved my life by partially reconstructing my brain cybernetically. Apparently, her repairs weren't as effective as I'd hoped. Not too long after that, I fought a losing bout with eccentricity - I did things I'd never thought I would do. Then I vanished. Not even I know where I went, or what I was doing. LupinOne continued the War in my absence - right up until the Catastrophe. I wish I had been there. I should have been there. I don't know what came over me.

    You may have wondered where I've been for the past 13 years, leaving my War with the Conflux like I have. I've wondered the same myself. I wish I had an answer for you. I just don't know. I will find out who is responsible, though - you can be sure of that. That someone will pay - right along with the Conflux.