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Numenara as Fuck PbF: Character Creation Thread

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11 Dec 2013 14:26 #167456 by MattFantastic
Who are you? How do you do things? Ruthless killer or sketchy coward? Feel free to be as weird as you want, we'll make it work.
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11 Dec 2013 15:41 #167470 by Michael Barnes
My character is Veige, a stealthy Nano who exists partially out of phase.

I am a former initiate of an obscure cult that worships the ancient, esoteric deity Xuh’yel, a pan-dimensional traveller revered for giving its disciples the ability to see between different potential realities, walk between them, and eventually cease to exist in any one reality in a state of pan-dimensional transcendence at the highest levels of initiation. This is accomplished through a sacrament involving injections of a nano-enriched drug that alters perception and enables the user’s mind to observe multiple planes of existence at once and to choose which to exist in at any given time. The nanodrug is horrendously addictive and its ultimate outcome is the obliteration of the self’s existence. My phase state is a direction function of the amount of the nanodrug I have in my system at any given time. My connection is whoever Jeff’s character is, he helps me to control my addiction. However, my body and mind are so horribly inundated with the nanodrug that I have developed the ability to shift phase without needing to have a recent injection. My body may or may not be generating its own nanodrug, or it may be an echo of my self from a different phase of reality that has progressed further toward multi-dimensional annihilation.

I wield a forearm blade and carry with me a book on multi-dimensional Numenera written by one of the finest scholars about the particular subject. I dress inauspiciously, favoring a lower profile. My body is riddled with trackmarks, which I cover as best as possible with the clothing I wear to avoid drawing attention to them.

I have left the cult despite my degree of initiation, much to the chagrin of its believers. During an injection sacrament, I travelled far beyond the range proscribed by my degree and witnessed that there is on true obliteration, only continuation. Thus, I have been branded a heretic and pariah. Yet I maintain contacts within the cult who continue to supply me with the nanodrug when I simply can not bear the severe hallucinations and psychic distortion that its withdrawal causes.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb, Jason Lutes

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11 Dec 2013 19:41 - 11 Dec 2013 19:47 #167508 by Schweig!
My name is Hedwig (♀) and I'm a graceful Jack who entertains.

I am an orphan and never knew my parents. I was raised by nuns of an ancient religious order in one of the filthiest inner city corners of a big town; these nuns taught me selflessness, non-violence and celibacy but the realities of life soon took hold. Blessed from birth with nothing else but natural charm and grace, only one career path presented itself after growing too old for the orphanage. Despite the filthy environments I performed in, I have always seen my dancing as a form of art, with keen talent and an interest to study its aesthetics with professional attitude. This approach even led me to enrol into dancing classes at an self-styled classical academy, aiming to rediscover the fashions of past aeons. As a result, I have soon made acquaintance with the upper classes and learned to imitate their manners, while still having to make ends meet by performing my trade in the shady parts of town.

Although the nuns who raised me would likely not approve of my career choice, I still follow by their guidelines of empathy and pacifism: I've used my involvements in the upper classes to convince philanthropists to set up charities for the poor people I grew up with and I always aim to resolve manners without the use of violence. But lending to the rough surroundings I grew up in, I also know how to handle myself in a fight, particularly on defence. I carry a telescope stick that serves both as an impromptu dancing pole and as a quarterstaff. As a child I came across a rugged fiddle in a trash container and taught myself to play a couple of tunes on it. I call this instrument "Stradivari", because that's apparently its name, which a former owner of the fiddle carved into it. I usually dress in a sharp outfit outlining my lean figure but also wear a leathery poncho overall when danger lurks nearby.

Veige, who suffers from chronic tremors and spasms due to medication, has no eye for my artsy dancing and likes to criticise it harshly, even stating once that three fat guys scratching their beards were a more pleasing sight.
Last edit: 11 Dec 2013 19:47 by Schweig!.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb, Jason Lutes

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11 Dec 2013 23:02 - 12 Dec 2013 19:20 #167522 by Mr. White
Hey, pugs, I'm Dimond the charming glaive who rages.

My sister and I were raised in an orphanage. Being taller and bulkier than the other kids, I was often mistook for being much older and left undesired. She was placed early on, but I stayed in the system shuffling from orphanage to orphanage navigating my way through various institutions.

Upon adulthood, I used my size to hold the doorways of many places of ill-repute. When possible, I would take on extra income providing stage security for basher matches. You know, when a traveling troupe of freaks and strongmen would roll in to town and challenge any of the locals to an in-ring bash. On one fateful occasion, I was pressed by some buddies to enter a match where I was able to defeat then top-billed basher Karr Fi. Impressing management with the squash, I was hired into the troupe, but entering the business at a later age I was only booked in midtime bashes. Never to close out an evening.

Frustrated in my role as a gatekeeper, I would try any sort of an enhancement to give me an edge. Some provided more successful results than others, but ultimately my body rejected them all. To advance up the pecking order, I turned to playing up my bashes with an over the top personality which then catapulted me into the limelight. (I’ll note here that for a while replicas of my bandana were a big item with the pugs. )

On one tour to an outlying territory I came across an early age book on the mystical powers of Yo-ga. After conferring with multiple aeon priests, I’ve learned to decipher some of its secrets. The calming affect it has has provided me to become more attune to my body enabling me to compete in basher matches at an age when others have long retired.

I’ve made many friends in my travels, but feel the tightest bond with other bashers. Being a little older now, I’ve shifted my focus from bash matches to helping former bashers transition to life after the ring. Most bashers have some sort of enhancement coursing through their system and whether it’s mechanical, synthetic, mystical, or what not they all have one thing in common; the need to calm their minds to handle the enhancements as their body deteriorates. I aim to help them live out their restful years peaceful and fulfilled.

Through several orphanages, troupes, a handful of wives, and travels through countless territories, I have no regrets. I’ve made great friends across this mass of drit and always seem to be a day or two away from some basher booker I either owe a favor for or owes me. I don’t mix fists or brawn much anymore as my reputation seems to proceed me and I’ve been able to get by on past glories, but if in a bind I’ve still got a strength and speed beyond my years. I don’t care much for clothing due to my build and hot-blooded nature, but wear baggy pantaloons, a few belts across the waist and shoulder, and my trademark bandana.

I currently find myself in the company of an odd group of pugs traveling my way. A dancer, who though much younger, brings to mind what I recall of my sister (so I'd hate to see anything happen her), and a wiry, but likeable enough fellow who I’m attempting to evangelize Yo-ga with to assist his struggles with a nanodrug addiction. We’ve had a few others float in and out, but it’s been the three of us this past month.
Last edit: 12 Dec 2013 19:20 by Mr. White.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb, Jason Lutes, Schweig!

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12 Dec 2013 01:52 - 12 Dec 2013 01:59 #167528 by OldHippy
Good day gents, my name is Daniel and I'm a clever jack who fuses flesh with steel.

I grew with a family that was obsessed with self mutilation/alteration, depending on your perspective. It's amazing they lived long enough to raise me at all. They were constantly changing themselves and the more they learned about how to replace body parts to become more machine the more they would do it. My parents weren't alone either, there was a small commune of maybe 50-60 people who were somewhat fanatical about this philosophy of machine being cleaner and stronger than flesh. As I grew I was indoctrinated with this philosophy and starting at puberty they started screwing around with my system, adding trinkets here and there, putting metal machines into my body. The kids at this age would sometimes rebel, having met other children or seen images from other places they would start to think their parents insane, sometimes they came around to the idea and sometimes they ran away, I hadn't decided yet.

The culture of making us more machine was used in all aspects of life... to represent a coming of age, as a type of sexual perversion, in marriage or bonding ceremonies, as a form of celebration... People would work for years to add the slightest thing to themselves or a loved one and most of the time they had no clue what was being added or what effect it may have on them.

The commune found some especially dangerous material one day (the oldest found yet and therefore, by their logic, the best) and although it killed the first two people to implant it the others in the group were obsessed and couldn't help themselves, believing the couple who died to be weak or thinking that the slight difference in material meant they had something different, but it all came from the same source and it killed all who implanted it. Eventually most of the population had either died off or scattered to some other local. I was 18 when my parents died after replacing their foreheads with ornate metal plates. I left the commune immediately and once I was out I was ashamed of my metal deformities, I was embarrassed to have been raised by fanatics and I did all I could to hide my alterations and my background. I wear bulky clothing trying to look as over the top as possible, hoping to pass off any odd things people see as fashion accessories. I am occasionally repelled by my own body as a result of my parents mutilating me so much, I know very little about the world around me because they tried to hard to shelter me, but I am steadfast in my determination to use this curse I've had stuck into me the best I can and find out what these things do. I've always been quick on my feet and resourceful, I've found a way to get by, I just have to keep going.
Last edit: 12 Dec 2013 01:59 by OldHippy.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb, Jason Lutes

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12 Dec 2013 05:37 - 13 Dec 2013 21:46 #167538 by Brewmiester
Hello everyone, I'm Dux Caesidius the Mechanical Glaive who Talks to Machines.

Dux has never spoken much ... to people. But from an early age the inhabitants of the desert village where he lived learned to bring any broken machine to taciturn Dux. At first he had to disassemble the device, which he did with amazing and age defying finesse, to figure out what was wrong. But after the accidental encounter with an Iron Wind storm he merely had to silently ask the broken device what was wrong and the machine answered. Then Dux would use his tools to fix the machine.

But Dux's father is a caravan guard and he trained Dux in the family business, teaching Dux to fight and survive against desert raiders or marauding animals. Guard duty was never first in Dux's heart but he is good at his job. After a few years he took his training to the next level by seeking out the Desert Masters, a group of warriors at a mountain fortress deep in the desert. Unfortunately the caravan master on the last job Dux had accused Dux of theft. Dux left his job in disgrace.

Soon after the strange dreams began and Dux has decided to widen the circle of his travels, to gain knowledge, experience, and numenara so that one day he can Speak to the dormant Machine Heart at the center of the World and coax it into beating once again.
Last edit: 13 Dec 2013 21:46 by Brewmiester. Reason: Further character development from the book.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb

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12 Dec 2013 14:17 #167620 by san il defanso
I’m Telis, the charming jack who crafts illusions.

I was born into money, the eldest child of a prominent family in my village. My father was well-connected and influential, but used these qualities to get his way with local leadership. He preferred to stay in the background and allow others to cater to him. As such his friendship was highly sought by the prominent, and his power was resented by everyone else. That resentment extended to me. I was a decent enough student, but I was held in suspicion by most of the kids. It might have come to violence had I not honed the ability to woo people.

Not everyone, you understand. You can make enemies of all kinds of people, but you should always play nice with the powerful and influential. My innate ability to craft illusions came in useful here, in spite of my limited skills. I could diffuse situations by making the room appear a little brighter, or put people at ease by providing them with a comfortable image. Nothing too extreme of course, since that would be obvious. But if I could control just a little of the environment, I could rely on my smooth talking to get me the rest of the way.

I sailed through school, and in university I began to focus my energies on the field of politics. Specifically, I showed an affinity for diplomacy and negotiation. I was good at it too. I could get what I wanted out of a situation, even as the other side thought they were getting the better deal. That’s the kind of talent that will help you rise in the ranks of the world of politics. And that’s when it started to unravel.

Usually I’m able to read a social situation well, but sometimes working with a language barrier can create more friction than I intend. These particular negotiations with the ambassador from Kressin were proving to be difficult with a translator, so I thought some imperceptible adjustments to the environment might be in order. I thought I might bring the lights up a little, simply to brighten the room and improve everyone’s mood. Unfortunately, his main associate was a nano who sensed my deception and immediately alerted the Kressine ambassador. He stormed out of the negotiations, but I wasn’t too concerned. Those who negotiate must be prepared to have some defeats, even if they weren’t too common for me.

But the government of Kressin was not at all pleased that I had used illusions in our negotiations. If I had worked the light a little, who’s to say I hadn’t projected other illusions? And worse than that, other nations began announce their own dismay at my tactics. I had averted more than a couple of wars with my negotiations, and some international tensions were starting to flare again. But more than that, some governments were seeking true revenge: I had some assassins trailing me. Since I was already persona non grata in the diplomatic world, I was forced to go into hiding.

These days I’m still well-connected, but not in the world of politics. I’ve had to make my connections in the underworld. Rather than negotiating treaties, I now negotiate for the purchases of mysterious numenera on the black market. In particular, I’ve forged some strong contacts with influential smugglers and crime lords. But I owe money to more than a couple of them, since I may or may not have stolen some artifacts for my own gain.

Daniel’s numerous alterations and mechanical implants means that he is able to perceive when I am performing an illusion. I’m entirely unable to fool him.
The following user(s) said Thank You: MattFantastic, jeb, Jason Lutes

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12 Dec 2013 19:12 - 13 Dec 2013 11:22 #167654 by Chapel
My name is Ceeda the Mad Nano who Explores Dark Places..

Ceeda was born into a crusader clan during the time of the Galssen Crusades. The wars took his clan far into the southern reaches of the Black Riage. Building a small stronghold at the base the summit.

For several years the mutant heretics kept the clan trapped within the confines of the walls. Starvation and disease killed off many of the knights and their family.

Ceeda's father, Creesa was charged with finding a mountain pass though the Jasper peaks. Ceeda and his father spent many months climbing treacherous paths and caves along the face of the mountain.

One day Ceeda found a passage that lead deep into the mountains. They found strange ruins and walls carved with scenes of old wars, and strange creatures. The deeper they drove, the more Creesa felt that they had made a mistake coming here. While they slept one knight they were awoken by a mob of ape like humans. His father tried to fight them off as much as he could, but was killed as the creatures swarmed in.

The dragged Ceeda far into the cavernous depths until even the surroundings were even darker than the ruins above. They finally ended up in a domed room make of obsidian stone. Perched in the center was smooth metallic well set in the center. Above it was a cage attached to a long chain. The creatures locked Ceeda in the cage and lowered him into the well. To ceeda it felt like they were lowering him for days into the dark abyss.

Then the descent stopped, but Ceeda saw nothing but darkness and an occasional glow below. He spent many days, or it could have been weeks in this darkness. Never thirsting, never hungering. But over time he began to adjust to the darkness around him as the landscape began to show itself to him.

Down below which looked to be be many hundreds of feet it looked to be a enormous maze that seemed to go on in all directions to the horizon, and above him feint stars began to shine in his eyes, illuminating the entire maze below him.

After a while he began to notice that the walls of the maze had runic writings all along the top edges. Writings that would glow soft green at first, then blue, then sometimes red. He began scratching the letters and words into his mind hoping to see the meanings, trying to decipher them as he would a puzzle. The days turned into months. The months turned into years. With nothing else to do but dream of the outer world, and read the words which had no meaning to him. He began to fall into deep trances for long periods during which he would put the runes to works and speak. He could feel their meanings so how.

One night he was awoken by a strange moaning, almost singing sound below, and what sounds like the scratching of the ground. He noticed where the sounds came from the runic writings would glow an almost putrid yellow. He would have yelled for help, but the terror he felt mad him cower in his prison. Soon the whatever it was moved far away.

Over the many months, different sounds and different "things" would move along the mazes corridors. One night as he slept he was awoken to a crash into the cage. He swung there in silence and below an even larger "thing" shifted by. He could almost see the outline of the creature. I might have been as small as his cage or as large as the mountain. He could not tell.

The years moved on. Tine began to slow and speed up, but his mind could not tell. The words on the walls began to speed up spinning and connecting in his mind. Glowing as they do from green, to blue, to red, and sometimes yellow. Almost as he could control them. In that time hallucinations were normal. He could see his family one time, then a firestorm the next. He no longer knew if he were even still alive.

Once day he was brought out of a trance to the sound of the cage chain, and felt the ascension. Many hours later his was back into the room which he began. There he was surprised to meet another human who said he was looking for treasure, and instead found Ceeda. Quietly, the human took Ceeda back to the surface where the sun burned Ceeda's eyes. He couldn't move any further for several days until he acclimated to being on terra firma.

They parted ways when Ceeda found the remains of the clans strong hold. It was more of a monastery now than a fortress of war. The crusades had ended many years before, and there was no one left that Ceeda could remember. The Brothers of Yarsus as they we called took Ceeda in and tried to help him to recover from his ordeal. At first he was silent, saying nothing, but when he did finally speak, his words came out as more of a rhythmic song than of talk, and sometimes the words weren't of a language anyone understood. The brothers began to treat him if as he was cursed. Ceeda's eyes always glowed dark blue, and he frightened everyone.

One night one of the brothers went into a rage and attacked Ceeda, this put him into a deep trance like coma. He awoken on a morning. He didn't know how long he had been out. But the place was quiet, empty off all the people. He didn't see any sign of a struggle, and there were still utensils of tools everywhere he went in the monastery. He wondered if they ever existed at all.

But since then he has been traveling alone, searching for answers to what had become of him, and what darkness he had found under the mountain.

Last edit: 13 Dec 2013 11:22 by Chapel.
The following user(s) said Thank You: jeb

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03 Sep 2015 09:37 #209883 by Mr. White
Ha! I was thinking of these characters this morning and didn't realize we never even got out the front door...

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03 Sep 2015 14:00 #209893 by Da Bid Dabid
My only ever RPG attempt was the funnel world PbF we tried here a while back that I think turned into some published module? It was great fun... but only made it a bit further than this one.

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03 Sep 2015 15:44 #209899 by stoic
I am a reanimated meat puppet.

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03 Sep 2015 17:29 #209907 by boothwah
This is like a compilation of the worst Gamerdating.com profiles, ever.

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