Freedom Begone

[LyingFox]

---

​

You've broken free from a train yard going to Nova Prospect, a sentence worse than death. Homemade thermite! Your best friend. As the doors begin to quite literally melt away, several other passengers flee out, leaving you to follow the general group in a daze. Shots begin to blaze off from people scrambling to guns off of deceased civil protection; and well ..you decided to run! Finding a way out to the outskirts of the train yard, you easily find several other escapees running all directions, soon you form a small group within the many escapees, running and running until you couldn't anymore.​

---

Finding a broken down car.. You all decide to give her a Fix'er up, within the first week of building you finish it. Everyone rummaging for a space within the car, you assume your own, fitting in the surprisingly comfortable car seats. The car hums as it's turned on, a group-wide relief is heard before the driver lets down the parking and shifts into first gear, pulling into the desolate road ahead. The cooled breeze of the upcoming winter paired with the desert-mixed wasteland seems unreal.​

​

---

With no scavengable calendars in sight.. The day's past like the wind as you drive, picking up non-perishables left in the pre-war. Rolling down the window, you look outside your car on the desert roads, lighting a lighter while rummaging through the passenger mirror, grabbing a thick folder before grabbing out the contents, pushing it outside the window before burning off what documents you had proving your existence as a civilian within the combines regimen, even if it probably was still documented on Combine PDA's.. It gives you that smallest bit of freedom, seeing the ashes fly in the wind. Life couldn't be better this way. That's until ol'betty runs dry.. You and your only companionship pull over to a set of ruins, you're unsure where you ended up all these miles.. Get back on the road, find freedom.​

​

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ESCAPEE
(VORT APPLICANTS ARE ALLOWED)
5/5

Broken free from a unplanned escape..
Destined to roam the roads until you find freedom.
The radio blasts, your heart nearly syncs with the rhythm.

All you need is a few cans of gas.. That'd get you far enough.
To sneak around for it or to go out guns blazing is the only choice you can make.

​

---

Application Format:
(open applications are heavily recommended)

OOC
Steam Name:
Discord Name:

IC
Characters name:
Original Crime:
Backstory:
Starting Gear (with backup from backstory):
What is your characters goal?:



EVENT INFORMATION.
-
All event days will be on the weekends.
The event can span up to two days, or rushed through in one day.
The date of the event is undetermined.
The ending depends on how many gas cans and supplies you collect.​

 

[LyingFox]

(i promise this event won’t get canceled)

 

[Stanford]

OOC​

Steam Name: Stanford
Discord Name: stanford5039

IC​

Characters name: Vas'Dar'Ein
Original Crime: 245 assault on HVT, 243 assault on protection team, 51b threat to property
Backstory: Vas'Dar'Ein resided within city eleven for most of his time on earth. Having been captured relatively early within the first days of the occupation of earth. Having lived for over three thousand years, Vas'Dar'Ein knew what would become of this world, as they had witnessed the crimes of the Combine first hand as well as through the vortessence due to their coterminous nature. He was a simple servile within city 11, being dragged from place to place to clean and repair the things CWU would not wish to touch themselves. Why not afterall? These creatures are expandable, to be used and abused for their crime of merely existing.

Years passed by, and a lot of connections were made whenever Vas'Dar'Ein was not made to serve. Deep within the slums, one day, his time came... Vas'Dar'Ein got set free by a local resistance cell and evaded capture for many months. During this time, he spent his time meditating and furthering his skill within the vortessence, doing the bidding of the Vortigaunt.

One day, an opportunity arrived for the resistance as a high political figure was set to made an appearance in public... One whom had caused much suffering to Vas'Dar'Ein and his kin. This man was the sole reason for all the abuse vortalkind had to go through within this urban center, and thus the consensus demanded action. With the aid of a number of rebels as well as a couple extra kin, they hid themselves within the crowd that formed beneath the balcony of the political figure, and they abided their time patiently... Waiting for just the right moment before out of the crowd a hail of gunfire and vortal energies surge forth towards protectorate, soldiers, and especially the HVT. Chaos erupted as civilians tried to escape from the brutal chaos. Rebels scattered into the sewage alongside vorts... Soldiers hot on their tail, but the job was done. The political figure laid dead upon the balcony...

The group was chased deeply into the sewage, but were ultimately cornered and captured... Set up on this very train to Nova Prospekt.

During the weeks the group was one the road, they encountered an antlion guardian... Vas'Dar'Ein attempted to calm the creature down, but to do so was truly in vain. The creature barreled towards the group and Vas'Dar'Ein sent forth a fury of his vortal energies alongside the hailstorm of gunfire from whatever weapons the group was able to scavange. The fight was tough, but ultimately the group won... And as a trophy, Vas'Dar'Ein used his knowledge provided to him by the many souls within the vortessence, to take the guardians armored plating and form it into a wearable piece for himself... The road laid open for the group, what adventures would await them...

Starting Gear (with backup from backstory): All I request is lvl 50 vortessence and lvl 40-50 melee if you wish to give me guardian plates that'd be appreciated as well if allowed from my backstory
What is your characters goal?: To locate a tribe out within these lands or to find his path to one nearby so he may be free with his own kind once more and serve the Vortigaunt.

 

[MisterMysteryMan]

Steam Name: MisterMysteryman
Discord Name: MisterMysterymann (I know, very original)

IC

Character's name: Salvatore "Skinner" Mancini
Original Crime: Rackeeting, extortion, drug trafficking, and murder
Backstory: Hailing from the dark underworld of city thirty-two, modern-day Rome. From the day he was born, Sal was a vicious, unruly sociopath, taking great pleasure in bringing suffering to others, doing whatever it took to achieve what he wanted. This naturally pulled him down into organized crime, getting unsatiated high from the money and status afforded to him by his don and the corrupt officials in his pocket; being given the name "Skinner" for his brutal and unorthodox methods of shaking down, or even torturing someone who owed him money. Swiftly receiving notoriety as one of City Thirty-two's most ruthless and violent criminal. Commanding fear and respect wherever he went

The money and fame got to his head, as what happens to most gangsters who ascend the ranks quickly, becoming reckless, sloppy, and even going behind the Don's back with shady deals, not kicking up any points to the man who gave him everything he wanted. The Don realized Mancini was becoming a problem, one that had to be dealt with immediately; killing Mancini was off the table, as that would've dealt a great blow to the mob, making them appear weak as one of their soliders was taken out without repercussion, so instead, Sal was set up. It happened late at night, the after-hours of one of the Dons' prestigious night-clubs; Mancini arrived, Coke and H in hand, placed in a luxurious suitcase. Once the transaction was complete, Civil protection units burst out of cover, firearms in hand, as they demanded Sal to surrender; and with no way out, Mancini complied, the once great mobster now cuffed and left to rot in prison. Sal was then hit with a plethora of charges, some false, most true; regardless, he was deemed an anti-citizen, being shipped off to Nova prospect.

The train ride there was cold, the silence in the speaking volumes. A normal man would've taken this time to reflect on his life, feeling remorseful for the wrong he's done throughout his life. Sal, however, did not. He was furious, bitter, and falling into despair as the only thought on his mind was vengeance, wishing retribution on his former Godfather and the men behind his arrest. As he closed his eyes, accepting the futily of his situation. Screeching tires roared as the train came to an immediate halt; before Sal had time to process what was going on, Gunfire and explosives smashed against the train door, its metallic exoskeleton liquidating as the light filled the once vacant carriageway.

Sal bolts out of the train, wasting no time to make his escape as he rushes towards the forest, bullets raining down on him from each side. As he fled, he spotted a lone, wounded Civil Protection unit crawling to safety, a trail of blood following him to his destination. Sal proceeded to intercept the man, wrapping his hand-cuff chains around his neck and squeezing the life out of him before he could reach for his gun, wheezing and gurgling through his vocoder before going limp. Sal quickly rummaged through his pockets, taking whatever he could before continuing his escape.

with freedom achieved, Sal set his sights on returning to his old city, to gather his old crew and confront the man who betrayed him...
Starting Gear (with backup from backstory): 1X USP, 1 clip, and some ammo. 1x stun baton. A pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter for aura farming and a pack of bandages. Optional stuff: A radio (for communicating) and MAYBE the CP uniform (I don't know if he'd have time to take the whole uniform, so I'm okay with this beind denied)
What is your character's goal?: To return to city thirty-two, to gather his old men and create an insurrection against his old don with the purpose of becoming the new head of the family (a mere pipe-dream). But lastly, to survive. ​

 

[Dazor]

Character's Name: Jack Dyke

Original Crimes:
​

• Grand theft auto (stole a Civil Protection transport and crashed it into a checkpoint).​
• Impersonating an officer (patrolled a sector for three weeks, demanding bribes in cigarettes and sarcasm).​
• Piracy (hijacked a Combine radio tower to broadcast club music and fake evacuation orders).​
• Destruction of public property (painted a Hitler moustache and googlie eyes on a Breen statue)​
• Smuggling (moved contraband disguised as official rations, some of which contained nothing but IOUs).​
• General anarchy (Combine records simply list: "Menace to order").​

Backstory:
Jack Mercer doesn’t believe in lost causes, just lost bets. He wasn’t fighting for freedom but for fun. Conning, stealing, and running scams was a game against the system, and he was winning. Then the Combine came and changed the rules, so he changed his tactics.

He spent years toying with the system: faking paperwork, issuing nonsense orders while impersonating CP officers, and redirecting supply shipments just to see how long it took them to notice. He once spent an entire week pretending to be a high-ranking administrator just so he could issue a citywide "mandatory siesta."

Then they caught him. Nova Prospekt was supposed to be the end of the game. But then someone melted the doors. Now he’s on the road, in a stolen car with a bunch of nobodies, with nothing but miles of wasteland ahead. And for the first time in years, he's got no plan and just an engine, a road, and a long list of people who want him dead. This all until the car ran out of gas.


Starting Gear (acquired after the breakout):​

• Love Heart-shaped sunglasses (looted from an abandoned gas station, because style matters).​
• A worn-out Hawaii Shirt (found in a supply stash, slightly too big, but makes him look important).​
• A CP-issue sidearm with half a mag (swiped off a dead officer in the train yard).​
• A baseball bat (No explaination needed)​
• A cassette player & a few mixtapes (scavenged from a wrecked car, mostly old club music).​
• A switchblade (picked up from a dead escapee—probably would’ve wanted him to have it).​
• A pack of twizzlers (liberated from a looted convenience store).​

What is your character's goal?
Jack isn’t looking for some grand revolution; he’s looking for proof that life has a punchline. He’s seen enough to know the game is rigged, that people like him are just passing through a world set on self-destruction. The Combine? They’re not some cosmic evil, just another bad hand in a stacked deck.

So he drives, not toward freedom, not toward salvation, toward whatever comes next. He tells himself the road means something, that maybe if he keeps going, he’ll stumble onto a reason to care. But deep down, he knows the truth: there’s no happy ending, no great escape. Just a car, a horizon, and a slow fade into oblivion.

In the meantime? Might as well put on a good song.​

 

[LyingFox]

Applications will be reviewed this Friday.

 

[BarrierMoss]

OOC
Steam Name: dog
Discord Name: ladyabstract

IC
<:: VERIFYING CLEARANCE LEVEL ::>
<:: CLEARANCE LEVEL VERIFIED, INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE FOR UNREDACTED DOSSIER ::>
<:: STANDBY FOR TRANSMISSION ::>
<:: TRANSMITTING DOSSIER, SUBJECT CODENAME CASPER ::>

<:: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IxRKGYAdFsuOjXLpRBBV7mCMPAfLZSh9oNKrmDSFIvQ/edit?usp=sharing ::>
<:: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ij3u2NRwoQg1jJCAvlL7YezgugiAINTSnwq1buTSNNY/edit?usp=sharing ::>

Smoke still billowed in the distance from the burned out husk of the train as Eric "Dennis" Stoltzman slipped through the broken window of the rural mechanic's shop. With the type of unsettling ease that only years of resistance fighting, Dennis quickly assessed the space for threats before focusing on what mattered-- the instruments his continued survival. He moved with practiced silence to a dusty workbench, selecting a compact set of precision tools with careful deliberation. Each piece disappeared into the various pockets of his faded uniform—distributed by weight and access priority, a habit ingrained from countless salvaging operations inside the Iberian QZ. The socket wrench could be used to change out the tire on the car; the wire cutters would make quick work of alarm systems. Outside, the five other escapees kept watch, instinctively deferring to the man they'd only just learned was the infamous CASPER.


The connected gas station had been picked clean by previous scavengers, but Dennis knew better than to accept first impressions. He knelt beside a collapsed display, reaching beneath to extract four plastic water bottles that had escaped notice. After checking each seal, he distributed three among the group, keeping one for himself. No one questioned him. They'd witnessed his calculated precision during the train derailment-- how he'd neutralized a Civil Protection officer without hesitation while the others were still processing their sudden freedom. The water bottles disappeared into careful hands, treated with the reverence that only those who had lived under Combine rationing truly understood.


A distant Combine scanner wail pushed the group toward urgency. Dennis counted ammunition with quick glances—two pistols among seven people, and only half a magazine-- hardly enough for a confrontation. The tools would prove more valuable; resistance tactics prioritized avoidance over engagement whenever possible. He moved toward the exit, then paused as something caught his eye near the register. A small display rack held a single pair of aviator sunglasses, their lenses unbroken despite the surrounding destruction. His hand hesitated for just a moment before taking them, a brief break in his otherwise mechanical efficiency. The younger escapees wouldn't understand the significance—how some resistance leaders adopted identifiable traits to become symbols rather than just people. How much easier it was to follow an idea than a man.

Dennis slid the aviators on as they prepared to move out, the world instantly dimming to more manageable tones. Through the tinted lenses, he studied the wasteland stretching before them-- the distant silhouette of husked out skyscrapers smudged against the horizon- a dim reminder of what had once been. Nearly years running resistance operations had taught him to see terrain differently: not as obstacles but as tools for cover, ambush, or escape. It could be said by those who knew him that he thought much the same way about people.

None of them spoke of Nova Prospekt, nor the nightmare that had awaited captured citizens them there. None of them needed to. The weight of the tools in Dennis's pockets was far lighter than the knowledge he carried—the coordinates of remaining resistance cells, safe houses, and supply caches. Information that would die with him if it came to that.


Starting Gear (with backup from backstory):
Aviator sunglasses.
Red beret (He was just wearing this when he escaped).
One USP, no ammunition or magazine.
Three bottles of water.

What is your characters goal?:
Link up with remnants of his resistance forces.​

 

[Gus]

Steam Name: Imran
Discord Name: 12326



Khaled "Ash" Benali
- Age: 32

- Origin: Former railway technician under the Combines regime
- Distinctive features: A scar on his left cheek

Objective

Khaled "Ash" Benali isn't looking to become a hero, or to overthrow the Combines regime. He simply wants to survive and disappear, far from cities, controls and drones. His dream? To find a remote place, a forgotten corner of the world where he can breathe without fear of being captured again.
But deep down, he knows that eternal flight is not the answer. As he drives through the wastelands, he begins to envision another future: finding a group that shares his need for freedom and building something lasting. Perhaps a secret enclave, a hideout where other fugitives like himself can take refuge.
In the meantime, he does what he does best: repair, improvise and survive, hoping that the next storm won't sweep him away.


History and personality

Khaled, nicknamed "Ash", spent years working in the bowels of rail yards, repairing rails and maintaining machinery used by the occupiers. This work enabled him to learn field engineering and discreetly salvage useful equipment. But one day, he was designated for “transfer” to Nova Prospect - a conviction in disguise. He wasn't going to wait to see what awaited him there.
During the escape, he used his skills in homemade explosives, including improvised thermite, to open a breach and escape with other escapees. Despite his knowledge of the infrastructure, he didn't try to lead, preferring to follow the wave of escapees.

He's never been a fighter, but he knows how to get by. When weapons began to circulate among the escapees, his first choice was a wrench rather than a rifle. Solid, reliable and silent, it has saved his life on more than one occasion, whether to dismantle a lock, force a trapdoor or stun an over-pressing adversary.
But the roads aren't safe. While searching the corpse of a civil protection unit lying on the ballast, he seized a pistol and two magazines. He never intended to fight, but he knows that a gun can be more of a deterrent than a lighter. As long as he doesn't have to use it, he keeps it warm in his belt, under his worn jacket.​

 

[LyingFox]

Due to staff concerns, ProcessedGrain will not be allowed to apply.

 

[Dazor]

Who tf is processedgrain

 

[Stanford]

Due to staff concerns, ProcessedGrain will not be allowed to apply.

who the fuck is staff? sounds like he's someone who has concerns a lot

 

[LyingFox]

Reviewing applications at 6:00 EST.

 

[MisterMysteryMan]

Reviewing applications at 6:00 EST.

 

[LyingFox]

OOC​

Steam Name: Stanford
Discord Name: stanford5039

ACCCPTED

Steam Name: MisterMysteryman
Discord Name: MisterMysterymann (I know, very original) ​

ACCCPTED

Character's Name: Jack Dyke​

ACCCPTED

Steam Name: dog
Discord Name: ladyabstract​

ACCCPTED

- Origin: Former railway technician under the Combines regime
- Distinctive features: A scar on his left cheek ​

 

[Dazor]

If it wasn’t obvious, the event is closed from applicants.

I would suggest maybe keeping them open I have a habit of going out on weekends