If the senior mech is an ex-companion, sign my guy up to work under her! Oh yeah!

For real though... I was thinkin of going with the Little Person and Amorous complications (one naughty little dwarf --> "Baby, you know want it!" I'll definitely be aimin' to misbehave)

Although interesting. I should warn you that little person comes with tough movement restrictions. Might be hard to be the gunfighter. Not saying no though.

It was suggested that our characters will have been in the black for a while together and as such, know something about each other. As such, here's what ya'all'd know concernin' Wyatt:

Ni how. Name's Wyatt Sung an' I'm whatcha might call a Rimmer. Now, ya wants t' glean a bit of know-how 'bout me an' mine, so's I'll make it speedy-like. I was born to a mercentile-man who owned an' worked his own shop on Jiangyin. My ma was a sweet li'l ol' woman o' Korean-blood who helped 'round-about the shop. I grew up with them wanting me t' excel in my educatin' an' pick up the family business, but that weren't fer me. I got the itch t' travel, ya know? Went on to work at a ranch out yonder hills from town as a hand movin' cattle an' the like back an' forth t' the shipyards an' spendin' my hard-earned livin' at dance halls and gamblin'. 'Course, as fate would 'ave it that's where I made acquaintance with my wife, Eden. Now, I could ramble on 'bout the way she looked an wax all poetic an' such, but a man'd be plumb stupid t' latch himself t' someone he thought was just joo bah jeh, so I'll's jus' leave it at I married the woman an' move on. Couldn't do 'er justice anyways.
Like I said, we married an' I stopped spendin'. That gave me rights t' purchase a small piece o' land near the stretch I rode. I began keepin' cattle an' Eden glorified our spread. Then my baby girl was birthed. We named her Summer 'cause that's what she brought t' our home… an' she was birthed in the summer. 'Course, all my time carousin' and womanizin' must've tempted the fates 'cause that's also the year the Unification War started.
Jiangyin weren't no interest t' the Alliance an' I don't much care fer politickin', but Eden was all in a fit 'bout it. She kept on an' on, every meal, an' I didn't stop her none. I thought it quaint at first; ya know? But the sun set on that dern quick. I laid down the law… practically bound her by it. Was the last convo I had with her, an' the last time I saw my daughter livin'.
Some big damn bad men came by while I was rangin'. They was Alliance supporters an' my beautiful wife wouldn't lie down as far as her politickin' was doin' an' they killed 'er fer it. They torched the homestead with Summer still inside… I killed 'em dead that night in town. All of them. Took my scattergun in the saloon after I did some researchin' an' opened them all up. After, I was bound by law. I coulda run, but I don't run, an' the Law bound me. I was due t' be hung when a roughrider by the name o' Sam Hayword was dropped in my cell fer performin' the fisticuffs in the saloon 'cross town. He told me all sorts 'bout the Browncoats an' the fightin' 'gainst the Alliance; so much that my ear was done near talked off. When he was plumb tuckered out I lay wakeful an' thought 'bout Eden, Summer, and the Fight. I thought 'bout Eden's politickin' an' knew then an' there the only ways I could do her an' my baby girl honors would be t' carry on her dreams.

The sheriff was a sympathizer with the Browncoats so it took little convincicatin' t' get 'im t' let me go so long as he never saw me no more. Me an' Sam hitched us a ride t' the nearest recruitin' post an' volunteered. Sam went off t' foot soldierin' somewhere's an' I gots the flyin' gig tha' got me familiar with the Firefly. Tha' boat was called Celestial Diva an' she was a handful; all skirts an' no sense, but she could run them blockades. The rush o' flyin' helped keep my mind off Eden an' Summer-girl, an' I gotsta kill me some Alliance. I continued t' run blockades an' kill me some purple bellies 'til them tian di wu yohn in high command signed that treaty. That's when I was left with something of a pickle in the brainpan. I didn't know what t' do with myself an' memories were lookin' t' kill me. Saloons became my puhn yoh, liquor, my ma tze. I won Rocinante in a card game with a fella who claimed I was cheatin'. He drew on me an' I killed 'im. That was on Beylix. I didn' run then niether, an' I was bound by law fer the second time. The trial didn't hold no water though. Witnesses came forward an' I was released. I was aboard Rocinante not really knowin' what to do when the crew started tricklin' in. They was the godsend, the tian-ling-ling, di-ling-ling. They gave me a purpose again. They gave me a family. There ain't no god that can give me back my girls, but these riders who brave the black with me, trustin' my decisions; they're mine an' no one humps what's mine.

Is the dialect the Wyatt uses common in the verse? Or it that just what him unique?

There are all sorts of dialects and accents in the Verse. Calling one common would de difficult. Bromern loves his accents, in fact in another campaign (CWWLLO) he has a character named Char that I have to ask for translations.

it's like present day Earth as far as dialects. A New Yorker wouldn't talk like a Texan, probably wouldn't even undertsand most of they were saying No offense to any Texans out there

What… You wanna talk to me? What for? It ain’t like yer gonna get some kinda soul-savin’ revelation out of it or nothin’… Besides, talkin’ ain’t my strong suit these days. I’ve seen enough… done enough… that there just ain’t the words to cover it no more, get me?

Wong ba Duhn! Are you still standin’ there?

A’right, look, if I give ya somethin’ will it get ya outta my face?

I used to fly and fight for the Alliance… they trained me well and used me even better. I was one of those “black bag” cats who got the jobs that no one else wanted. I’m talkin’ the really ugly mi tian gohn, mei mei! You honestly don’t wanna know what I’ve done and, I really ain’t keen on tellin’ ya, get me? (Soon as I did you’d probably be tryin’ ta figure me out or sell me out, one or the other, and that wouldn’t be good for neither one of us.) Since we’re gonna be crew and all, though, I reckon I’ll give ya this much…

My name’s Samuel Dash… you can call me Sam, or Dash, it don’t really matter, I’ll answer to either and, besides, as far as you know that ain’t my real name, no how. Go ahead, check the cortex if you want, you won’t find me in there… Even if ya did, it’d mean some bad juju for you and some really heavy movin’ plans for me. All ya gotta know is that, if it flies, I can fly it, if it shoots, I can shoot it – probably a lot quicker than you could ever hope to – and, if you want to disappear, well, I can help ya there, too… one way or another.

Whaddya mean, why’d I leave the Alliance? Didn’t I just get done tellin’ ya that ya don’t wanna know? Damn, but yer pushy! Listen, let’s just say that after doin’ all the dirty work I done fer those bastards, I come to a point where I got tired of pullin’ their jobs and I had to get out, okay? So, that’s what I did… I got out… It wasn’t easy, puhn yoh, and it sure as hell wasn’t none too amicable… and, even though I’m a ghost in the cortex, I ain’t entirely sure that I ain’t bein’ tracked… So, if yer smart… and right now, you look reasonably intelligent even if ya are breathin’ out yer mouth… you’ll leave it at that and not ask me about it again, get me?

((Still needs a little polish and the GM, of course will likely get the "full details," but that's pretty much Dash for ya.))

All right, in answer to the speechifyin'... there are three basic boundaries in the 'Verse as near anyone cares t' chart. The Core Planets, The Border Planets, and the Rim Planets. Ya could think o' these as New York City/Paris, France/London, England fer the Core where they are "refined", "civilized", and in my humble opinion: cattle followin' the easy-simple life of an Alliance slave. Numbers is all they are; numbers who can provide the rich with a way ter get richer. Then ya gots the Border. Close enough ter the Core ter do some good trades an' such, but a bit nappier. Think o' Detroit City, or some other blue collar city on Earth-That-Was an' I'll be thinkin' yer doin' right. Solid folk with an eye towards makin' their coin an' eventually tradin' up. Then ya gots the Rim. Them that reside on the Rim planets be salt-o'-the-earth types (t' generalize) an' ya best picture them as the types from the old Westerns o' Earth-That-Was.

If'n ya watched the series, or the movie, they talk with strange curves thrown in there speechifyin'. They refer t' things usin' slang, cowpoke talk, an' swear in Chinese. 'Course, that's mostly those that come from the Rim planets an' maybe a little from the Border. Them that comes from the Core (like Simon and River) they speechify with a right perty tongue, using clean dialogue an' rarely swearin', but still swearin' in Chinese.

English an' Chinese are the predominant tongues in the 'Verse, though--like Al said--they ain't the only ones. Hope that 'elps...

Oh, an' I love t' flavor things up with right proper speechifyin'. It makes life interestin'.

Since we are making introductions, I guess I may as well go next. My name is Willow Sunipta Takahara, and maybe I’m having a little trouble figuring out what I want to do when I grow up. My folks are comfortable, what with Mother a Bollywood televid star and Father a salaryman, but I’m the baby of the family, and maybe I’ve been indulged too much.

I’ve always had a loving, touchy-feely sort of way about me, and the boys seemed to like that about me. Actually, more than a few girls did, too. Somehow, I never really got “involved” with anyone, though, and managed to stay friends with most of them, so I thought I’d become a Companion. Mother and Father were startled, but they pony’d up the tuition and sent me on my way. I think the sex part made them uncomfortable, but the prestige and face that I’d bring the family would have helped with the discomfort.

I liked the training, and I seemed to have an aptitude for it, and already knowing the sitar, the flute, yoga and traditional Hindu and Japanese dances helped me move up the beginner ranks quickly. It helped that I adore just about everybody and nothing made me happier than helping someone feel good. Novitiate Companions can acquire clients and I was starting to build a respectable list, when it happened.

A fancypants bossman thought that he’d paid for my soul along with my company, and while he didn’t hurt me (he wasn’t that much the fool) it hurt my feelings to be treated like a thing. When I tried to speak to my teacher, she told me I was a silly girl, and that Companions used inner discipline to endure the boors. Well, I didn’t like that and didn’t think I could look past the nice outsides of folks when they had darkness on the inside.

So… I left. I cashed out what was left of my tuition and headed for home. On the way, I met a real pretty doctor with good hands and a polite way between the sheets. He made me realize that healing was an even better way to make people feel good, and my companion skills helped with that, too. I switched ships after kissing my pretty man goodbye and headed to medical school.

I needed more money from my folks, and for some reason, they weren’t really happy with my decision. I guess they had been looking forward to having their beautiful daughter introduced as the Companion of important people. Maybe the need for more money was the problem, but like I said, I’m their jade-eyed baby and the money was sent by wave.

Medical school was kind of dull after Companion training, but the learning part was fun. I couldn’t decide what part of medicine I liked best, so I learned a little bit of everything, like nibbling at a buffet of education. I worked my way through my fellow students, as well as a few teachers, and then it happened.

One of the teachers I respected most was in the habit of indiscreet pillow talk. I couldn’t stop my ears from hearing how much of the money for the medical school came from the government, and how the school did research in return for the funding. When I heard what they were doing to those poor, smart kids with the special brain pans, I couldn’t stand the pain in my heart and soul. So…I left, with one year left to graduation.

I had a little money left, and my folks have told me that it’ll have to do for now. I think I really annoyed them with leaving again, and they are not going to throw good money after bad. So maybe I need to set some roots, and learn to stick through the bad instead of just enjoying the good.

Buying a share in a ship seems like a good plan, where I have a stake in something, and can’t run away. The ship itself runs away for me, though, in case things really do get bad. There is something about the Cap’n and crew that draws me, too, that made me want to be with them. They need me and my healing….and not just for the rips and holes that life in the black tends to give a body. Some of them are broken, and I think I can mend that. At least, I’m willing to try.

Great background from Bro, Eol and Vanadia. I look forward to reading the ones from Blamm and Lyskhala.

Since I have not heard from anyone else, I will close the recruitment on this game. I think that we have a might fine crew here.

I will add one NPC crew member - a stay on the ship type so you don't ahve to be tussling about that in the game.

Name: Patricia (Trish) Wilmont
Gender: Female
Race: Caucasian
Born: Sihnon
Age: 56
Hair: White-Grey
Build: Thin
Eyes: Brown
Dress: A practical dresser, she tends to demin pants and flannel shirts. Her weapon is holstered over her shoulder. On the ship, when there ain't no passengers, she is comfortable as she is, but outside or when there are people about she wears a long cloak with a deep hood.


Go back around 30ish years ago and there wasn't a person on the central planets who hadn't heard of Patricia Wilmont. She was a famous singer, actress and the belle of the media eye. She was on every billboard, vid screen and poster around the core. She had everything - beauty, fame, fortune, glamour and the envy of the world.

But time eventually began to catch up with Patricia. Laughlines became wrinkles, her dark hair showing more and more white. She stopped getting calls for leading roles, but more of the support characters - playing mothers or even Grandmothers of another younger star. Her voice started to fade after years of overuse and over abuse. She tried everything she could, but every hair dyes, and cosmetic treatment didn't do enough or lasted for a few weeks at best.

She met a doctor who claimed to have pioneer a technique that would give her back her youthful appearance. It was expensive but it would give her another ten maybe twenty years of precious youth for the screen. Best of all, she would have her voice back. But the doctor lied.

She woke up to a face horribly scarred. Her left side was partial paralyzed and the skin sagged like loose cloth. She tried to scream but could not - the operation had taken her voice away permanently. She was told it was a minor setback, and that they'd could fix it, but it was only more lies, as the doctor disappeared, leaving Patricia alone and horrifically scarred for life. No other doctor could reverse the damage. Her friends of the past all slowly stopped calling, stopped being there for her- as if it was contagious.

Trish is a bit shy about what happen over the next decade or so. She drifted a lot and took care of some unfinished business - meaning the doctor was dead and gone from this world. She made her way, doing some stuff she ain't proud of, and she laeves it at that.

Wyatt was on the business end of a rifle, cursing his stupidity for wandering away from the ship alone. This varmit had the drop on him good and Wyatt was looking to die fighting. Then, then man with a rifle lost his head - literally. Patricia had shot him with "Bessy", her pink shotgun. Wyatt had the usual reaction to Patricia's face, and she stormed off into the night. But Wyatt chased after her and apologized, speaking honest with her that he had no right to judge her that way. The two of them ended up in a dark corner of a bar, Wyatt talking and Patricia passing papers. The next day, she came abroad the ship, primarily as deck hand. Then they discovered how well she could cook, and she was a welcomed member.

Trish never leaves the ship unless absolutely necessary. She spends her time aboard making meals, taking shifts flying Rocinante and in her free time - knits. All the crew has wool blankets, sweaters and hats from Trish. Even Rocinante has a wool cover for the secondary Power Buffers. She has a sense of danger and has saved the crew with a timely pick up in the past. She is deadly with her shotgun, which she calls Bessy. It has a pink fibreglass stock with gold lettering "Bessy" and there must be a story behind it - only she ain't telling.

Ag: d8
St: d6
Vi: d8
Al: d10
In: d6
Wi: d10

Assets:
Talented - Cooking (Major)
Talented - Hiding (Major)
Trustworthy Gut (Minor)
Favoured Weapon - Bessy, a Remington pump action shotgun with a pink stock (Minor)

Complications
Mute (Major)
Ugly as Sin (Major)
Memorable (Minor)
Phobia - Mirrors (Minor)

Skills (Note I have allowed Patricia more skill points due to her age):
Artistry d6
Covert d6
•Stealth d10
Guns d6
•Shotgun d8
Pilot d6
•Midsize transport - d8
Performance d6
•Acting d10
•Singing d10*
Craft d6
•Knitting d12+d4
Knowledge d6
•Basic First Aid d8

Blammm, Lyskhala! We're all chompin' at the bit fer yer character intros.

I'm also workin' up a bit o' pretty concernin' our ship an' crew, but am findin' it a might hard t' complete seein' hows I don't have nothin' to work off of at the time 'cept Wyatt an' Rocinante (Trish'll be flyin' Rocinante so she'll not be in the pretty).

Sorry... just got out of a busy season of life. Working on character this afternoon.

Patience, grasshopper!

Well, well, well... It sure looks like we've got us a right capable crew shapin' up here. How long ya reckon it'll be 'fore we're the socurge of the 'Verse?

Just out of curiosity, has anyone put any points into planetary vehicle skills - I reckon we're gonna have a hankerin' for a dirt-bound driver at one point or another and, if'n none of ya's spent points in it (or plans to for that matter) I s'pose I can finagle a few things and give Dash a dose o' drivin' lessons... if necessary.

Almost done gearing up, by the way... I should have a tidy little sum to ante up for Rocinante's needs once't it's all over, Cap.

If nothing else happens here at work, I'll have it up no later than tomorrow

I can send you a physical description if that helps any?

Greetings crew mates. My name is Khoralei Ling but you can call me “Kora” for short.

I’m the chief wrench turner on the Rocinante.
I was born and raised on Sihnon by my father, a successful Chinese businessman. My mother, a Caucasian, died giving birth to me and though he never said it, I knew my father blamed me for her death and worse yet, I suspected he even hated me for it.

I was an only child and a loner in school. I never was good at making friends…I always figured it was because I had no one to tell me how to make friends. I played alone, ate alone, studied alone and cried alone. My father & I were not close. He provided the necessities... food, clothing, shelter, education, even a governess, but he didn’t give me the thing I needed most…love and affection. I can’t remember a time when he held me close and comforted me or praised me. He never had time for that…but he always had time to criticize. I remember he told me once that “discipline is the most important thing you can teach a child”…he told me that while slapping my face for talking back to him.
Needles to say, when I turned 18 and was done with school, I left and didn’t look back. I joined up with the Independents to fight for a cause…and to eat. Turns out my background in martial arts and ability to take things apart was just what they were looking for and I found myself in what they called Black Ops, a special faction of the military dealing with infiltration and covert missions such as assassinations, weapon running, food contaminations…you name it and I was probably involved in it somehow.
Got lots of training in all sorts of disciplines pertaining to the sneaky sneak but my favorite and the one I excelled at was mechanics. I could reroute a circuit before the Alliance’s sensors could pick up a heat signature.

I was content, maybe even happy at times… at least compared to what I knew of happiness. I was doing something that needed to be done and not only paid to do it but was praised for my good performance. I had found a home, a family of sorts. We were one big happy unit…tight. I always knew someone had my back and I, in turn, was trusted to do the same for my comrades. We fought together, and cried together. Some even gave the ultimate sacrifice…their lives. Whatever came, we were ready…ready for anything except the order to ‘stand down’. When it came, we were devastated. All this time fighting for the “cause”, keeping ourselves and our buddies safe, standing for our freedom and kneeling for our dead. It was a blow. A big one. It was as if someone had carved our hearts out of chests. Where were we to go after all this…what were we to do?
“War heroes”…that’s what the Independents called us…traitorous Browncoats to those who held their faith in the Alliance. One thing was certain, we had skills. Some chose to use them for good, others for bad. Me, I was up for whatever would keep me fed so I drifted from planet to planet for a time until I overheard a conversation about a possible job on a Firefly class ship as a mechanic. I got lucky…and now I’m part of a family again. Not much else to tell except I don’t have a lot of time for governments and politicians especially after all the lost blood we endured only to have us surrender.
Guess I’ll just to have to deal with that in my own time on my own terms.