One final chance: An FTL-RP

Have a great FTL experience you would like to share? Post here!
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Frosty
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Location: haha wouldn't you like to know.

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Frosty » Thu Feb 23, 2017 11:28 am

((alright! I'll just leave this here for now. if something is wrong or it turns out I can't join, I'll take care of it.

if my character is needed to fill a different role, I can change her talents and skills around.))

Name: Whyte Oakhart

Race: Human, female

Occupation: Federation medic-turned-tactician

Skills: She originally studied medicine and was in training to be a Federation doctor but she could not handle the stress of treating wounded soldiers in war-torn environments. The improvement of medical bay technology also rendered her less useful.
Through the help of her superiors, they realized her intelligence was better used for imagining strategies after showing an affinity and talent for battle tactics. She abandoned her medical studies and instead became a strategy expert, earning the title of Commander aboard her last ship, upon which she had been the captain's first mate.
She still has a background in biology and basic medical treatment.

Weak points: Due to her small stature, she is not the most imposing or efficient combatant.
She's also hopeless with a hammer and wrench, as mechanical work remains a mystery to her.

Enjoys: She loves the beauty of space and the stars.
She enjoys candy and sugary things.
Before she started working for the military, she enjoyed sailing and the ocean/beach.

Dislikes: Cannot stand the taste of coffee.
She does not like having her name made fun of, strange as it may be.
She fears that people will not respect her due to her non-intimidating stature and is angered by insubordination. She won't stand for disrespect.

Secrets: The world she came from was mostly military and as such, it didn't leave much room for art and culture. She has never heard music and wishes she knew how to sing after reading about it.
She can't cook. At all.
She is very unforgiving and will hold a grudge forever.
She has a scar across the underside of her chin from a childhood accident. She finds it very ugly and therefore would rather people didn't know she has it.

Appearance: A little under five and a half feet tall. Long curly hair and piercing blue eyes, freckles across her cheeks and shoulders, lightly tanned from a life by the sea. Small, slight build.
Either in dress blues or a Federation jumpsuit depending on where she's working.
She wears a translating headset that is relatively new technology and she is a bit protective of it.
Tends to wear her heart on her sleeve. She's very expressive.
Image

Rank: Commander, seeking work as a captain.
She's open to new things, though, and will take what is available.

Age: 22 years
Last edited by Frosty on Fri Feb 24, 2017 2:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
"don't destroy this station? did you just assume that the Pimpwagon cares about what you want??"
Nomiddlename
Posts: 23
Joined: Sat Nov 26, 2016 8:42 pm

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Nomiddlename » Thu Feb 23, 2017 6:54 pm

Secrets: She can't cook. At all.


*looks over at Tabitha*

Really hope you get accepted! Your character is quite detailed, you even came up with an illustration :o

Also you might want to grab an colour to talk OOC in. Here are the taken colours (list of those who are still active):

Arkangel

Cathos/Nazia
Kr
(Quintet) (not really a colour but this is how he talks OOC)
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stylesrj
Posts: 3645
Joined: Tue Jul 08, 2014 7:54 am
Location: The Shrike
Contact:

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby stylesrj » Thu Feb 23, 2017 8:54 pm

Interesting. Although me being nitpicky I can't help but ask a few things about her story. It happens. When I join a new area, I worry I made the character too overpowered for the setting and I nerf a few things or try not to make a big deal out of other attributes when in reality it's not too much of an issue and in fact some areas could be improved.

For example, she can't cook at all? So even microwaving a burrito or a casserole is going to cause it to explode and thus cause a grudge with scientists? Or you mean that if she had to pull kitchen duty, she'd create something bland and tasteless? Even in a replicator? Not saying Whyte might have to pull kitchen duty but a "If you don't like what I'm cooking, you do better!" scenario comes to mind :)

Also, hopeless with a hammer and wrench? So the autodoc never broke down and that repair guy was a long way away? Also wouldn't basic training cover repairs? Like if a hull breach occurs, Whyte can whip out the multitool and weld some metal plates over the hull or replace a damaged shield coil (pop out the fried system, pop in a new one) because even a chef like Tabitha knows how to do that. Now, rebuilding a shield or a piloting console is another story and pretty much left to the Lanius or Quintet.
Or is it really a case of even a hull breach puts her into a panic?

Other than that, I like. Hope you get approved.
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Frosty
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Location: haha wouldn't you like to know.

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Frosty » Thu Feb 23, 2017 9:27 pm

i am guilty of a bit of power-anxiety. you caught me. I was very nervous about overpowerring, I haven't roleplayed in... five years?
coming from a very military planet, she doesn't have need of culinary skills. she can hit a button on a replicator but anything fancy? hope you like dinner blackened on the outside and raw in the middle.
as for the engineering thing, anything beyond basic training-level fixes are fine. emergency repairs won't be pretty, but they'll work. complex problems, might want to consult an engineer. the military base she lives on is quite drone-and-Engi-reliant (which I forgot to mention, whoops).

anyway, thanks a million for the warm reception and suggestions! if I get approved, I can see that it will undoubtably be a great time. :D
Last edited by Frosty on Fri Feb 24, 2017 12:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"don't destroy this station? did you just assume that the Pimpwagon cares about what you want??"
Nomiddlename
Posts: 23
Joined: Sat Nov 26, 2016 8:42 pm

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Nomiddlename » Fri Feb 24, 2017 2:40 am

Oops, I got the OOC colours wrong. Turns out purple is taken. Here's the correct list with actual usernames to makes things less confusing:

Nomiddlename

Stylesrj
I_am_person
Chickengames
(Dyno101)
Chickengames
Posts: 341
Joined: Mon Jul 04, 2016 3:24 pm

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Chickengames » Fri Feb 24, 2017 3:08 am

Ooo an artist. Maybe you could draw my character? I like that style. Anyway, I think Whyte would be a great addition to the crew.
dyno101
Posts: 337
Joined: Wed Nov 18, 2015 10:04 pm

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby dyno101 » Fri Feb 24, 2017 12:45 pm

Frosty wrote:((alright! I'll just leave this here for now. if something is wrong or it turns out I can't join, I'll take care of it.

if my character is needed to fill a different role, I can change her talents and skills around.))

Name: Whyte Oakhart

Race: Human, female

Occupation: Federation medic-turned-tactician

Skills: She originally studied medicine and was in training to be a Federation doctor but she could not handle the stress of treating wounded soldiers in war-torn environments. The improvement of medical bay technology also rendered her less useful.
Through the help of her superiors, they realized her intelligence was better used for imagining strategies after showing an affinity and talent for battle tactics. She abandoned her medical studies and instead became a strategy expert, earning the title of Commander aboard her last ship, upon which she had been the captain's first mate.
She still has a background in biology and basic medical treatment.

Weak points: Due to her small stature, she is not the most imposing or efficient combatant.
She's also hopeless with a hammer and wrench, as mechanical work remains a mystery to her.

Enjoys: She loves the beauty of space and the stars.
She enjoys candy and sugary things.
Before she started working for the military, she enjoyed sailing and the ocean/beach.

Dislikes: Cannot stand the taste of coffee.
She does not like having her name made fun of, strange as it may be.
She fears that people will not respect her due to her non-intimidating stature and is angered by insubordination. She won't stand for disrespect.

Secrets: The world she came from was mostly military and as such, it didn't leave much room for art and culture. She has never heard music and wishes she knew how to sing after reading about it.
She can't cook. At all.
She is very unforgiving and will hold a grudge forever.
She has a scar across the underside of her chin from a childhood accident. She finds it very ugly and therefore would rather people didn't know she has it.

Appearance: A little under five and a half feet tall. Long curly hair and piercing blue eyes, freckles across her cheeks and shoulders, lightly tanned from a life by the sea. Small, slight build.
Either in dress blues or a Federation jumpsuit depending on where she's working.
She wears a translating headset that is relatively new technology and she is a bit protective of it.
Tends to wear her heart on her sleeve. She's very expressive.
Image

Rank: Commander, seeking work as a captain.
She's open to new things, though, and will take what is available.

Age: 22 years

ACCEPTED! I lile the drawing, well done.
"There isn't good or bad. There's just insane."
"Blamsauce!"
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Frosty
Posts: 10
Joined: Wed Feb 22, 2017 3:49 pm
Location: haha wouldn't you like to know.

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby Frosty » Fri Feb 24, 2017 9:32 pm

sorry, this got a little... really long! x.x

Whyte sighed down at the tablet on her desk. Her latest assignment was to assess a battle report sent in from a fledgling captain and suggest tips on his tactics. His strategy... left something to be desired.
This guy got promoted but I'm still stuck behind a desk? What a world we live in.
She picked up the tablet and began to type up notes for him, biting back her personal comments and doing her utmost to remain professional. She took brief breaks from writing to nibble delicately on a pastry she'd picked up earlier from the cafe on base.

Suddenly, her pager sounded. "Incoming message from Admiral Frasir."
Whyte reached across her desk and held down the 'respond' button. "Commander Oakhart, please state your business," she replied.
Always the same response, droned like a machine. Position and Name, please state your business. Whyte briefly wondered how many times she'd said that line.
I'm damn-near a professional, I should be paid for my pager-answering skills alone. Commander Oakhart, please state your business. Forget this tactical work. I'll be the master of paging.

"Please report to my office immediately."
Whyte's blood ran cold.
Am I in trouble..? Oh god, what did I do?
"Affirmative, sir," she responded shakily.

She got up from her desk, brushing crumbs off her lap and pulling her white gloves on with unsteady hands. She picked up her hat and walked over to the mirror hanging on the door. Her reflection watched her expressionlessly as she put on her hat. Her uniform was in pristine condition and her hair was, for once, not an unruly monster of curls.
Lookin' good, she thought halfheartedly. Time to go. Be brave, Whyte. C'mon.

She left her office, listening to the door close with a click. It wasn't a horribly long walk. Her military-issue shoes clicked almost regally on the tile floor of the base's main entrance. Other members of the base milled about as she passed, some with urgent places to be and others chatting leisurely. A lieutenant that she had trained alongside moved to greet her, but the stony look in Whyte's eyes suggested that now was not the time.

Whyte approached a door reading "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" and swiped her identification card through a black card-reader mounted on the wall. It gave a happy ping! and the door slid open. She walked in silently. There were doors lining either side of a long hallway, each with its own shimmery nameplate. This was where the important officers, or at least their offices, were. Whyte kept going until she found herself in front of a door labelled "ADMIRAL MATTHEW FRASIR" in black. Before she could raise her fist to knock, the door slid open, just like the previous one.

"Sir, Commander Oakhart reports," Whyte greeted. She took off her hat in her left hand and saluted stiffly with her right.
The admiral looked at her with battle-hardened eyes, but his expression was soft. He was sitting up straight in his seat and had an air of dignity.
"At ease, soldier," he ordered. "Come, sit."
Whyte lowered her hand and sat down in a chair across from his. A large desk separated them. She met his gaze with worried eyes.
"Commander Oakhart, I request that you turn in your uniform," the admiral said.
Whyte's heart dropped and she couldn't help frowning. Oh no.
"Sir, I--" Whyte began.
"I'm not finished," he said sternly.
Whyte mumbled an apology.
The admiral took a deep breath and continued. "Commander Whyte Oakhart, I have known you since you first joined the VV-Cephei Military Space Academy and have carefully monitored your progress since then. You are a formidable soldier and stellar tactician. I have met with my superiors and we have come to the agreement that you are ready to be promoted to the rank of captain."
Whyte sat up abruptly, regarding the admiral with wide eyes. She wanted to say so many things, but she held her tongue.
"There's a ship approaching our base in need of a captain. We aren't exactly sure when it will be arriving, but we advise that you be ready for departure by 1100J tomorrow. For now, you are to report to the on-base tailor to be fitted for a new uniform and appropriate spacecraft equipment," he finished. His face was perpetually stern, but Whyte could swear he was smiling.
Whyte, on the other hand, was beaming and ready to cry. Her hands shook with excitement, hidden under the desk. "Thank you, admiral! This is an absolute honor, I don't know what to say..." she trailed off. "Thank you!"
The admiral nodded. "The honor is mine. Captain Oakhart, you are dismissed."

Whyte smiled and picked up her hat as she got up. She placed it gently upon her head as to not disturb her hair. She left the office positively glowing, smiling at everyone she passed on her way to the tailor regardless of whether she knew them or not. It was a good day.

I'm a captain! I'm gonna have a crew! I wonder what they'll be like? What kind of ship will it be? This is the best day of my life!
"don't destroy this station? did you just assume that the Pimpwagon cares about what you want??"
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I_am_person
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Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby I_am_person » Sun Feb 26, 2017 1:12 am

Nomiddlename wrote:
Secrets: She can't cook. At all.


*looks over at Tabitha*

Really hope you get accepted! Your character is quite detailed, you even came up with an illustration :o

Also you might want to grab an colour to talk OOC in. Here are the taken colours (list of those who are still active):

Arkangel

Cathos/Nazia
Kr
(Quintet) (not really a colour but this is how he talks OOC)

I know you corrected it but how did you get beige out of all things?
Injustice Rains From Above!
dyno101
Posts: 337
Joined: Wed Nov 18, 2015 10:04 pm

Re: One final chance: An FTL-RP

Postby dyno101 » Sun Feb 26, 2017 3:03 am

Quintet took over the engine station with a drone. After a few preparations, he started accelerating towards the ship at a decently fast speed to begin with. It quickly began turning in the other direction, but by that time, it was far too late. In a few moments, every alarm on both ships was blaring and red lights were blinding the view. A countdown began and the emergency recording box ejected from the ship.

Five.
Quintet cut the engines and used his best effort to spin the ship.
Four.
The ship was nearly halfway in position.
Three.
The engines warmed up.
Two.
Everything was ready.
One.
At this very moment, Quintet punched the throttle. The other ship was melted into nothing but ash and Quintet's ship was thrown into an unknown region.

In a moment, Quintet stabilized the ship. All that was on the radar was an inconspicuous federation base. After a moment of hacking, a plan was founded. He approached and docked at a specific port and simply waited until one curly-haired captain walked towards the ship. The airlock slid open with no question.

(I hope you're good with this introduction! Tell me if it needs an edit.)
"There isn't good or bad. There's just insane."
"Blamsauce!"

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