For Queen and Country

[naze 0]

I will expand my background if you would like me to fill the gap closer to present day. Yes I know that I'm asking for some pretty saucy shit. Handle with care.

 

 

Steam Name: esketit chink originalz

Steam ID: STEAM_0:0:18393584

Steam Profile Link: http://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561197997052896/

Rp Experience: 11+ yrs

How did you stumble upon our server?: I found it through some friends.

Why should we give this character to you?: Not a dogbrain. Clean server history. The admins know me from previous communities / iterations.

 

Character Name: Bryce Andrew MacLeod

Character Sex: Male

Character Age: 35

Occupation (Current or Before): The Corps of Royal Engineers (8th ENB) < 22nd Special Air Service (UKSF) < Special Air Service Revolutionary Warfare Wing (RWW)

Character Equipment: AC900 Kevlar Helmet. Rope Bag. Avon SF10 Respirator. Suede Abseil Gloves. Nomex III Assault Suit & Vest. Bolle Tactical Glasses. Five Hole Nomex Hood. MBITR Radio. PE Assault Belt. GQ Abseil Harness. Twin Mag Pouch (Thigh Mounted). CT401 PTT Adapter. GQ Figure Eight. MOD Combat Boots. 11m Abseil Rope. H&K MP5SD3. Racal Cougar Radio Manpack. Ear Piece. RAF Aircrew Knife. Fairbairn-Sykes Fighting Knife. Extended PTT Handheld. Remington 870.

Moral Alignment(See Chart below this post): Chaotic Neutral (Character will put the interest of self-preservation above all else.)

Strengths: Firearm Use.  Hand-to-Hand. Wilderness Survival, 'Macgyver' know-how. CLS qualification. Land Navigation.

Weaknesses: Untrusting. Stern. Know-It-All. Haughty. Scottish. Soft for Children. Addicted to Nicotine.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sixteen Hours Before Continental US Outbreak

Operation CHIMERA

Guadalajara, Mexico, Western Hemisphere

Warrant Officer MacLeod, Bryce

22:41 Hrs.

Spoiler

"Mac', get the rope ready,"  ordered Lieutenant Montgomery. The Warrant Officer had the piece coiled in his lap. Once the VTOL came to pause overtop of the compound down below, he tossed the coil down so it would unravel on its way down to the rain-drenched soil below. He gave a thumbs up over his shoulder to the other men in the craft with him once it was done. He brought a gloved hand up to wipe some of the rain drenching his lenses. Both hands reached out afterwords and took hold of the cord in anticipation, waiting for their green light.

 

"<<: Arrite' you limey bastards, gettouta' my aircraft!" called O'Malley over the radio, the paddy in charge of BUZZARD-TWO, the MH-60 that worked with TEAM THREE of the Revolutionary Warfare Wing. On their go, Mac' reached out with his legs and tangled them around the rope he was clung to. He hiked himself forward and pushed off, beginning to slowly descend from the comfortably-seated position he had on the edge of the hull. He was the first down on the ground, reaching down in order to grasp at the rifle that dangled from the two-point on his torso. He lifted it up and took a knee in order to cover his comrades coming down.

 

There was something uncomfortable about their tasking. It was queer to him that they would be sent off to yank land - no, not even yank land. He didn't quite know what to label Mexican people as. They weren't yanks, they weren't blacks. Redundant thought. Their job was to investigate a small hamlet in the Southern parts of the North American continent. He wasn't quite sure why they were in their MOPP equipment however, considering they were in a relatively peaceful country and it most certainly wasn't a C-T gig. Talks of some sort of infection were spreading through the higher-tier levels of communication.

 

One of his mates in an S6 communications staff tipped him off about some sort of virus spreading through the heart of Mexico, threatening to touch on US borders. Now, he couldn't help but wonder whether or not they were in on some kind of torch-and-burn op'.  Dex was packing a shit load of plastic with thermite in retinue, which was exceptionally strange accompanied with the fact that some spook from Mike-India-Six was dropping with them. What a goddamn handful, he was.

 

Regardless, if something big was going down then he was there to see it. For all he knew, the world could be on the brink of war. For one reason or another, one of the famous Churchill speeches ran through his mind, as if he were on the verge of greatness;

 

We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

Seven Days After Continental US Outbreak

Operation YANKTON

Houston, Texas, Western Hemisphere

Warrant Officer MacLeod, Bryce

 

Spoiler

 

"Mac', have you figured out the problem yet!?" Montgomery shouted over the sound of of Eldridge gunning on the fifty atop the open bed of the roofless humvee. Team THREE had been reassigned to the Houston evacuation centre following a massive outbreak in the United States after a series of infected personnel were carted from the Mexican border. The massive evacuation protocol was a joint operation between foreign aide forces such as the UN. Doctors Without Borders and the United States Army in tangent with local emergency services. They were being pulled out of Houston as a result of their Northern lines breaking along the crossing of I77 and 290 between La Grande and Brenham. They'd been overrun with infected personnel and were now closing in on Houston. The only way out was by sea, East by Baytown.

 

A repurposed tie-rod, a piece of gum, and the cord from his spare radio later and Bryce had the humvee's battery re-grounded and ready to go. "Arrite' Leftenan', we're gooda'go! We've gotta'git'movin' if we're goanna' make 'et in time!" he cried as he slammed the hood shut and made his way up and over the windshield to get into the jeep. A few sputters after the ignition was turned and the Lieutenant had the engine going. They peeled off just as the gate to the compound came crashing down. The infected slammed into the hood as they ploughed through the wave, several clinging to the sides of it and dragged along the pavement, their lower parts subsequently torn to shreds from severe road-burns.

 

Eldridge swung the turret around in order to gun towards the mob that came racing down one of the side streets towards them, cutting the first eight or nine down with ease before the gun CLICKED. "New belt comin' in! Keep us moving!" the cockney fellow called up front to the driver as he popped the top on the fifty', then stooped down for the next ammo can. They were nearing the city outskirts now, leaving them with a long stretch of road they would have to try and navigate between them and Baytown. Unluckily for them, they were coming up on a CEDA checkpoint. Chain-link fences, barbed wire and a whole lot of bad-guys. Montgomery floored the gas and pushed the gate head on. The fence came crashing down, the momentum of their vehicle carrying them up and over. Eldridge held onto the gun for dear life, Mac grasped at whatever he could. The two fellows sitting in the back were shouting all the while, a duo from GROUP TWO that they had managed to pick up for the ride. Once clear of the city limits, Montgomery let off of the gas in order to allow the vehicle to become a little more controllable. From there, they made their way East.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

Six Weeks After Continental US Outbreak

Operation YANKTON

Washington Monument, D.C Cityscape, Western Hemisphere

Warrant Officer MacLeod, Bryce

 

Spoiler

 

 

Looking out over the ruins of the city was something else, way up there from that tower. The trenches below were filled with the men CHALK ONE had rode in with initially. A firefight ensued, keeping that long stretch of land secured. What was left of GROUP THREE was stationed uptop with the laser des' and the LRR. Over the battlefield soared a flight of two blackhawks, moving down for a gun run on the runners coming out of the ruins towards them. They were like angels, Bryce figured. If Angels carried chalks of infantrymen and had big fuck-off rotary guns. These weren't CAS, they were ferry boats. That could only mean one thing. Down by the old dome-shaped building on the far end of the square were multiple more groups converging on their location. Too many to count. Not enough ammo. Several were cut down, the birds themselves circling back around in order to drop their chalks off - reinforcements, for once they had good news. It wasn't until then that Mac's manpack crackled to life.

 

"<:: OVERLORD, this is STINGRAY-Two-One, checking in with you. Flight of two F-35s, holding area X-Ray, at Angels twelve. Two Mark-Sixes, thousand rounds a piece for this sector. Over."

 

"OVERLORD copies, Two-One. Standby. I have Grizzly-One on the ground requesting immediate CAS for map grid Papa-November-Six-Seven-Niner-Three-One-Seven. Break. Push for I-P Jameson How copy? Over."

 

"<:: Solid copy. Map grid Papa-November-Six-Seven-Niner-Three-One-Seven; Pushing to IP Jameson. Over."

 

"Grizzly-One, this is OVERLORD. You have Stingray-Two-One, flight of two F-35s at Angels twelve pushing to IP Jameson. Over."

 

Bryce unhooked the receiver and spoke into it, "Grizzly-One copies all, O'erlord. Out. Stingray-Two-One, 'sis Grizzly. Stan'by f'information, o'er."

 

"<:: Stingray, standing by. Over."

 

"T-O-T Two-Zero. Close-in fire support, non standard, minus-one t' minus-ten and plus-six t' plus-eight. Gun target line zero-nine-zero. We'll talk y'in, 'ow copy, o'er?" he replied.

 

"<::Solid copy on all, go ahead, over."

 

 

 

 

Six Weeks After Continental US Outbreak

Operation Wings of Freedom

Washington Outskirts, D.C Cityscape, Western Hemisphere

Lieutenant Jennings, Mitchell

 

Spoiler

Jennings glanced out the window of his bird, peering off in the distance while he held a straight-away. He was assigned to Stingray-Two-One as a wingman for Lieutenant Raymond Bolivar. They had just refueled and were being sent to assist a British spec-force group which would be lazing targets in order to secure the MSR Guerilla on the East side of the city to help evacuate a series of wounded personnel, which was the entire purpose of the D.C evacuation. Air Cav' and the Rangers were to gang up for a joint offensive in order to help secure the site long enough for the personnel in the aide station to exfil.

   

Jennings clipped his respirator on which was also linked to his comms. "<:: OVERLORD, this is Stingray-Two-One, checkin' in with you. Flight o' two F-35s, holding area X-Ray, at Angels twelve. Two Mark-Six Rotary Cannons, thousan' rounds a piece for this section. Over."

   

"OVERLORD copies, Two-One. Standby. I have Grizzly-One on the ground requesting immediate CAS for map grid Papa-November-Six-Seven-Niner-Three-One-Seven. Break. Push for I-P Jameson. How copy? Over."

   

IP Jameson was West of the monument, which meant that they would likely be somewhere between seventy-five and one-fifteen bearing East for a gun-run. He shifted North-Easterly so that he and Bolivar could come in even with the strip itself. "<:: Solid copy. Map grid Papa-November-Six-Seven-Niner-Three-One-Seven; Pushing to IP Jameson. Over."

   

"Grizzly-One, this is OVERLORD. You have Stingray-Two-One, flight of two F-35s at Angels twelve pushing to IP Jameson. Over."

   

A man's voice appeared over the radio. Hee sounded apprehensive to him, though also relieved. A funny sensation washed over him, he felt good about him. "Grizzly-One copies all, O'erlord. Out. Stingray-Two-One, 'sis Grizzly. Stan'by f'information, o'er."

 

"<:: You hear that, Ray? We're goin' in hot!" he called over his internal comms to his wingman.

   

"<:: Yeah, I hear you. Keep your head, Mitch. The coordinates they gimme' are right outside of attack point Zulu. See that big dome-shaped building down there? It's inside. We've got to walk them from it to the monument." Bolivar replied.

   

"<:: Stingray, standing by. Over." he returned over the long-range channel.

   

"T-O-T Two-Zero. Close-in fire support, non standard, minus-one t' minus-ten and plus-six t' plus-eight. Gun target line zero-nine-zero. We'll talk y'in, 'ow copy, o'er?" the voice called to him.

   

"<::Solid copy on all, go ahead, over." Jennings said back.

   

"About five-'undred meters North o' Infant Plaza, there's'a' long stretch'a'grassland. Call contac'."

   

He glanced down and eyed the trench line by the monument. "<:: Contact."

   

"Onna' North end o' that grassland there's a road runnin' Eas' t'Wes', call contac'."

   

"<:: Contact."

 

"We're in the large pyramid-building roughly one mile Wes' o'th' target buildin'. Call contac'."

   

He eyed the monument. He could spot the IR strobes poking through the holes in the side of it. Friendlies. That was his JTAC. "<::Contact."

   

"Target is a mass o' infected movin' Eas' to Wes' down'at road. Be advised, a friendly trench line is mid-way between us an' that column packed full o' wounded casualties awaitin' evac. No I-R. Over."

   

The two fighters came in from the South, banking around the far Western side of the monument in order to come in straight on the long stretch. "<:: Here we go, Mitch. Watch the tower, we hittem' fast and low," the Lieutenant called to him.

   

"<:: Fast and low," Jennings replied as they came in on the straightaway. He lined himself up with the column of walkers. If they went down, the infantry would have a clear push for the oval building to take control of the mall. This was it. This was his moment.

   

"<::Stingray has contact on all. We're passing I-P Jameson, coming into heading zero-nine-zero. Over." he called down to the man on the ground.

   

"Roger that, bring the rain!" he screamed over a torrent of automatic fire.

   

"<:: Stingray off safe," he called. "<::Guns-guns-guns." He pulled down on the trigger of his stick in order to open up on the walkers with the auto-cannons. They shredded them like paper.

   

"<:: Dash-two off safe. Rollin' in." his wingman called as he opened up with the secondaries. "<::Guns-guns-guns." The crowd was culled and promptly obliterated, followed. They turned around to come back again to finish the job.

Edit:

Spoiler

 

 

Eighteen Months After Continental US Outbreak

Operation YANKTON

Tucson, Arizona, Western Hemisphere

Warrant Officer MacLeod, Bryce

 

Spoiler

 

It went like this;

The buildings toppled in on themselves.
Mothers clutching babes.
Picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair.

The skyline was beautiful on fire.
All twisted metal stretching upwards.
Everything washed in a thin orange haze .

 

It took him the better part of a few months to walk one-thousand-nine-hundred and forty-eight miles. From Jacksonville, Florida all the way to Tucsan. It was hot and awful in that desert, he figured. With his Nomex and respirator tucked away safely in his ruck, his helmet dangled from his harness, bobbing with every step he trudged through the sand. There was naught a soul about. The dead seemed vacant, the living were also no place to be found. It was a dead city. It was quiet - and he liked it that way. Quiet. Long-passed was his time of war-fighting and order-taking. He was alone. Dex was the first to go, about a week into the mess just before they'd escaped Houston. Bite to the forearm. He shot himself. Mac' could still hear his words in the back of his mind.

-----

"Not like this", he implored him.

-----

Then the ash settled.
The sun went down.
Sometimes I wish it never came back up.

Montgomery told us they were rebuilding.
"Then that's where we'll go," Eldridge pitched in.
What a shame, you never knew.

 

Eldridge never saw Tucsan.

-----

A wheeze escaped him as he gasped greedily, sucking as much air into his burning lungs as he could. His mouth tasted like ash, mouth dry and chalky with hints of warm metal from the blood. "Hey! Hey, lookit' me! Lookit' me, Owen," he called down to him. Overcome by another bodily conniption, Eldridge writhed and choked out again, causing a hoarse gushing sound to erupt from the depths of his throat. He was about to hock again. Bryce reached down to pull off his helmet; For the first time in a long time, the dying operator felt truly alive. The cool air nipping at his neck while the cold raindrops pattered across his face. Out came another hock of blood, shooting up and covering his cheeks in a warm, burning coat. "Mac'," he murmured out through his bloody teeth. The Warrant Officer reached down to take him by the hand, glancing at him from behind his lenses. Eldridge couldn't see his face, and he desperately wished that he could. "I'm'ere, mate - I've got you," he promised him.

 

"D-don't leave me, -- don't leave me here," he choked out.

 -----

I buried my best friend in the desert.
Saw him again in my sleep.
His words haunt me.

The Earth swallowed him whole.
From dust, return to dust.
These truly are our final days.

The living were worse than humans. The dead were predictable. Humans were not, yanks especially. Eldridge succumbed to a bullet through the stomach. Mac' felt somehow responsible for this, and so he promised he would make onward with Montgomery, for the both of them. It would have been much more fulfilling if his commander would have lived to see it. Another body, another let down. He died quick, but very painfully. Ran out of ammo during a firefight. A horde interrupted it. Mac' got away. Two of their assailants did. He left the Lieutenant their only grenade. He didn't get it off in time.

-----

 

There it was, the Tucsan Police Department. It was littered with dead out front, walkers all mostly shot or stabbed to death. Bullet casings jingled beneath his quiet steps as he navigated the graveyard. CEDA equipment, dead hazmat guys, about a dozen or so soldiers and policemen. He reached for the door, still unlocked. The Warrant Officer had a good idea of what he would find inside. Just as he aimed to pull the door, he stopped. Three good men died to get him there, and he couldn't even bring himself to open up the goddamn door. How far he'd fallen, he figured, since it all began. A hardened soldier turned into a bitter, angry -- coward? No. He was no coward. He wouldn't believe it. People didn't scare him. Walkers didn't scare him. What scared him was the thought of what he would do next. He knew nobody would be inside, why check? There were no lights on. No noise heard. It was a let down. A big fucking let down.

 

He turned and reached down to take the submachine gun dangling from his two-point. He reached down to unclip his canteen from his belt. The operator brought it up to his chapped lips after screwing the top off. He took a pull, waited, then took another before tucking it away. From his harness he undid his chinstrap and unlooped it from the metal piece, bringing it up to rest over his head. His boots were falling apart from the trudge, two of his gloves were missing fingers. Mac' put his bucket on, made his way down the steps and began walking once more.

 

Once more into that heart of darkness.

 

 

[Emptybag 12]

Note: Writing this late at night so if I come off with an attitude I really don't mean it.  You told me to care about your saucy items, so I did

 

I did read that all.  It was like a nice little novella, actually, pretty nice.  And I hate to be the first to say it but I'm going to say same as with other apps, I want to hear more of the man himself throughout the four years; the things that either turned him from the man he was into the man he is now, or the things that made him stay like he always was for sure.  These can still be broad strokes, you don't have to write out a multi-paragraph story (unless you want to, reading them is fun for me), but they need to be the main story beats that alter your character in a large way.  Think single-squad mate standing that needs to be left behind lest this character himself die, think bandit-turned saint for a dying child that will only make use of meds for a day or two anyway-- the crazy yet believable once all has gone to hell.

I really want to push and emphasize how much these four years of what is mostly chaos can change people.

 

I also did a cursory search of things on your equipment list. 

I personally say the respirator will not be in perfect condition, gloves worn, no on the assault suit it probably has long since become tattered, combat boots gonna be really fucking worn out and i'd be surprised if he didn't just replace them with other boots he found (or maybe these have already been replaced), ONE knife (either sentimentality or for use-cases), and I dunno which firearm to greenlight but not both.  Dunno how I feel about the helmet, but you didn't ask for a plate carrier or something similar so atm I'm leaning towards yes.
Also I won't lie idk why you have like 3 radios and 2 different PTTs listed but im gonna make it easy and say you just have the traditional MBITR like everybody else.  Unlisted stuff is otherwise fine by me.

I'm by no means the end-all on military gear but tons of this sounds like stuff this guy would've had like 2 months into the infection, not 4 years.  Maybe he likes protection so he had the assault suit for awhile, but we're trying to close the divide between those that were on active duty 4 years ago and at the very least making them look like normal civilians.  Toss on jeans and a carhartt jacket, or overalls.  Nobody's gonna wear bloody/dirt/ uncomfortable clothes forever.

Edit: Definitely let others weigh in, I might just be sleep deprived or they may think way differently.

[Emptybag 12]

I'm going to keep this brief because I already wrote a book and the app itself is pretty long:

Naze explained to me many things, tl;dr for anyone that was as un-knowledgeable as myself

• His type of operator typically would carry a radio for short and long range.  We figure this could be good avenue for story down the line, as someone far away with access to similar communications could potentially reach out to our survivors, which is nice.  I've since been quite accepting of this possibility.
• The clothes aren't all gonna be his original gear, sourced from various people/places through his journey (this was an admin hangup of mine, not a huge deal), I'm fine with this
• The assault suit is more of a status symbol, but it's made of durable materials.  I'm personally on the fence as I'd like military to not stand out as much anymore, but this can be discussed by others.  Ultimately it's cosmetic, so if others are okay with it, that's gucci
• Of the two firearms, he'd prefer the smg over the shotty.  This is of course assuming other admins agree the character should only have one.

That's the long & short of it, I'm interested to hear community/admin feedback

[SquejeMofo 1]

+support 

Having a different input to the outbreak from an outside country may lead to some pretty cool roleplay even if it is 4 years after. The equipment he's asking for isnt really all that much as majority of it is cosmetic or for carrying shit.

[Legion 5]

Jazz, you write a damn good app. This is the golden standard. You have my support.

[naze 0]

I added another piece to it in order to depict the character's shift from their pre-apoc mentality to a grittier, shakier version of himself roughly a year and a half later.

[Nyanch 0]

Quote

Why should we give this character to you?: Not a dogbrain. Clean server history. The admins know me from previous communities / iterations. 

I'm kind of a stickler when it comes to stuff like this in an app. I feel like you could've done a bit more of a constructive statement, but otherwise they both carry the same weight in words so it's not really that big of a deal.

Anyway, past that, I've roleplayed with you quite a bit. Granted, it's not a lot of times that we did if I recall, but the interactions nonetheless were memorable themselves,. You're an above average roleplayer from what I've seen so off the bat I'm already kind of inclined towards a 'yes'.

The story you have written is reminiscent of something Tom Clancy would write. The fact that you put in the effort alone to write numerous paragraphs shows you're not in it for the scripts, rather to establish a well-developed character with a thought-out backstory. There's a great bit of attention to detail, as to show you know what you're getting in to if you get authorized. The music was a nice little addition to build atmosphere to the story, as well. Again, detail and sincere interest in developing this character shows. An interesting tid-bit to note is that you chose S.A.S instead of any of the U.S forces, which I share the same opinion as Squeje, it's a breath of fresh air to see that.

 

As for the actual auth itself, what I really appreciate is how you went deep into detail with the specifics and even miscellaneous objects are included, like something as simple as the Abseil rope. I know I might be kind of underplaying the use of the item, but still. Another cherry-pick on my end is your negative traits. It makes sense for someone in the service, or who was in the service, to be a bit of a stern guy and a paranoid one, too. I just hope these attributes don't pop up all too often. Granted, negatives balance out what you have for the positives, but worst case scenario would be some paranoid guy who doesn't trust anyone so he stays away from the masses, and for when he does interact, he'd come off as a hard-ass and be a know-it-all. I trust you to make it work in a way that isn't that hampering on the experience, yet is still a sort of burden, if that makes sense.

The only weakest link in this authorization is the 'why', in my opinion. Otherwise, everything else shows effort to go above and beyond to establish a character.

+Support

[HyaneFleischer 1]

Theyre not russian so fuck it

Quote

_^Support

 

[Sunny 0]

+ah fuck, i can't believe you've done this

[Emptybag 12]

accepted