Ok RPers, lets see your characters you like to play

[AgentRaptor 17]

[irl-calibre 744]

 

This is Frank a hard drinking taxidermist from Casper, Wyoming. Both he and his wife Beryl - a member of "Seal team 6" that was off on maternity leave during op "Zero Dark Thirty", on hearing the news that her entire team had been wiped out in an "accident" they decided to make a break for the former Soviet Union. Fearing for their lives that the knoweledge that Bin Laden wasn't actually killed by her team,but was captured and taken to the United States of 'murica & is in fact a New York taxi driver called Ahmed. Frank washed up not knowing where Beryl & Frank junior the 3rd are, but he's convinced they made it too,and he's gonna find them, or die trying.

Edited January 11, 2014 by Calibre

[csharp 47]

What jacket is that? And is that a stabproof vest without any slots?

[irl-calibre 744]

a worn tac shirt +

 

[Matej (DayZ) 71]

 

My current character is a seržant of 3. Horskej Brigády CDF, he is veteran of Chedaki insurgency and his unit was responsible for counter-insurgency and pacifying South Zagoria.

During the outbrake he was stationed in Zelenogorsk barracks and his unit was covering the evacuation of main army and goverment elements to Utes, when they were left behind. The last orders 

were to protect green mountain transmitter from looters and infected. The last 7 members of 3. Horská brigade are now trying to survive in South Zagoria hoping the goverment in Utes will contact them, but slowly loosing hope.

[Katabasis 83]

I'm the Sheriff of Berezino. You can find highlights of some of our recent activities on the Berezino Community Board at www.youtube.com/katabasisgamer

Stay safe and smart!

[Katabasis 83]

Also damn! You guys have sweet backgrounds! We will be starting a light RP server very soon and I hope some of you would be interested in coming by. I'll post details at www.twitch.tv/Katabasis and also here on the forums when I start it. Feel free to use our teamspeak and come play with us around 9pm PST nightly.

[bfisher 561]

'Sup..

 

 

 

 

 

The helmet is for safety!  And the red nose Payday mask is to appear more approachable!

Edited January 11, 2014 by bfisher

[Matej (DayZ) 71]

'Sup..

 

 

 

 

 

The helmet is for safety!  And the red nose Payday mask is to appear more approachable!

motocycle helmet + payday mask = bandit^2

[capt. beefsteak 95]

 

 

 

I'm a hero

Edited January 11, 2014 by Deepfryer

[Andarne (DayZ) 84]

 
Let me introduce myself.
 
My name's Andrew. I was born in bonnie Scotland just over twenty-one years past. A computer technician by trade, I have had some limited survival and combat training from my local army centre, but didn't stick around.

A couple of months ago, I decided to take a trip to Russia on a sightseeing/wanderlust impulse. I took my fiancée with me, as we both thought it'd be quite an adventure. Around two weeks into the journey, we chartered a boat along with a few other tourists in the area, to check the coastlines for some photographic shots. By midday we had a place called Skalisty on our starboard side. That's when it happened; the mate on the ship collapsed in a pool of black, coagulated blood. Not long after others began to fall too. The worst part was when they began to twitch and stand back up, and attack the healthy or dying.

Melissa and I made the choice to jump overboard. The boat wasn't too far from the coast, and the weather was favourable. Plus we were both good swimmers. When I made it to the shore, though, I couldn't find her. All I saw was the boat in the distance; there were figures shuffling to and fro on its deck. I searched for hours, but couldn't find her anywhere. All along the coast near the island, there was no sign. But when I looked over the water to that damnable place, I saw her lifeless body float near its beach.

I would've went and retrieved her, to make sure she was okay. But I heard gunshots not too far, and raised voices in Russian. So in my sorrow, in the confusion that clouded my mind, I fled into the forest. I ran, and ran, for hours. It's all fuzzy, but I do remember passing through a small town or two on the way. I swapped my wet clothes with some loose-fitting ones in an abandoned house, as I thought the inhabitants wouldn't mind - especially after what I had seen. I continued on, until I came across the railway tracks.

I followed them onward. My boots sore on my feet, kept knocking against the sleepers and I often tripped and fell over. But I kept on. At night I would camp on the line, huddled into some blankets and bushes where I could find them. I don't know how long I had been wandering, but I came at last to a small town with a decent-sized dockyard. From what little cyrilic I knew, I deciphered the road-signs nearby to discover this place was called 'Guba'. To this day, even as I write on these scraps of paper, I remain here. My vigil. I have no intention of leaving this place; I don't think this place was alone in the incident. Plus I've seen more of them, wandering in the fields and towns.

 

The only thing I have left is my sanity.

[Jonah_Hobbes 171]

This is a short story I wrote at work over two nights about my Back story. If you don't like reading then feel free to skip it.  Also there is swearing sorry, but it's what people do. There will be mistakes spelling, grammar etc as I am somewhat crap.

 

 

 

How I ended up on the coast of Chernarus.

 

Having left the British armed forces I had a number of jobs, barman, doorman, psychiatric nurse aid but nothing really lasted, I still felt unsettled and tended to drift from place to place. That’s what happens when you leave an institution. I was struggling to connect with anyone or anything; it was if I was waiting for something to happen. Having not much of a family left and no partner or kids I was on the look out for something different.

 

Back in my home town in a tough, bleak pub on the council estate I grew up in I met up with an old army buddy of mine for bevvies. He looked fit, tanned and on the up. The clothes were a step above high street and gold flashed from the rings on his fingers. He was happy to splash his cash, much to the interest of the more dishonest of the locals and went on to explain this gig he'd been involved with - working in shipping. I was intrigued as this guy never expressed any interest in the sea at all as the army was his life.  This was the something I might enjoy, he said. I sat back and listened.

 

The BBC news had been peppered with stories about the spread of piracy into the Mediterranean and Black Sea; this was not your usual Somalian pirates but inhabitants of the former Soviet States getting in on the action. Independent heavily armed local militias were targeting cargo ships, tankers and private boats that moved through those busy waters. As the troubles in the Russian states continued to worsen, (Chernarus being the pin up girl of the conflicts), the UN were increasingly reluctant to police the waters particularly the Black Sea as it did not want to aggravate an already tense and paranoid Russia.

 

The shipping lines took the matter into their own hands and began using small teams of private security operatives based on their ships. This usually took the form of a 5 man team, armed with the latest equipment of small arms with some RPG's thrown in to ward off anything bigger than the fast moving speedboats that was being used by the freebooters. The idea was to keep the pirates busy until air reinforcements from Turkey and Greece could be scrambled to eliminate the threat. Russia by all accounts was ok with this; after all it couldn’t be seen to be bombing its own daughter states pirates or no pirates. Russia had a large investment in the security contractors being used so its leaders were happy campers. It was expensive but it was not seen as a long term strategy, we were only going to be there until Russia sorted its domestic sh*t out.

 

This Security job then? Hell the money was good, the risks so-so, my friend said it was a blast and I'd get to see Istanbul, If I signed on we agreed to meet in Moscow, after our respective jobs, to party, pull chicks, drink booze and sample whatever else came our way.

 

 I took the next train down to London and was wined and dined, then interviewed in a hired apartment in West Belgravia, the term “rich” really didn’t do the place justice. The art, the furniture, it even smelt wealthy.  The long dead cream of the British empire sneered down at me from the walls as I signed the contract; it’s as if they knew something I didn’t.

 

I was now an Official Security Operative for a company that I rather not name and with a hefty advance, I texted my dad to say goodbye, threw him a few hundred, via internet banking and headed off to sail the seven seas.

 

This first job was on a small cargo ship Bright Constellation which sailed under a Maltese Flag. I was to join her in Turkey, the ship would be leaving, Lisbon in Portugal then via Gebze in Turkey onto Istanbul. I was to relieve the outgoing team at Istanbul with four others. The trip was a short haul to Rostov but would sail close to the Chernarus coast land - that was the risky part and so my itinerary included a detailed military map of Chernarus. Strangely though there had been very little in the way of information or hassles coming out of Chernarus over the last couple of weeks. The place was wrapped up tighter than North Korea during festive Paranoia season. No press allowed, No twitter, no YouTube clips of suicide bombers, people throwing Molotov cocktails or kids with AK 47’s. Ok there was some weird ham radio stuff about people turning on each other - but hey it's a warzone right?

 

Anyhow the trip to Istanbul was uneventful, you could feel the recent tensions in the Middle East which was heavily flavoured by the conflicts in the former Soviet states but it was great to spend a day there checking out the Hagia Sophia and tasting some excellent food, it was a shame to be leaving.

 

I joined Bright Constellation the next day was introduced to the crew and my team mates - made up of three very quite "Ivan" types and a rather fried looking Aussie dude called Watty - A walking cliché of your typical beach loving Australian - bleached hair, tanned and tattooed. He was also the senior officer on this job so took it upon himself to show me around. Watty gave a brief rundown of how he wound up here, not that I gave a sh*t as it was obvious – Aussie armed forces, demobbed, whoring himself around the world’s hotspots as a “technical advisor’ oh yeah and lots of surfing talk.

 

 I'd had no training as my friends' word was good enough and my army history marked me as a professional. I was shown "the war room" which consisted of our equipment. A couple of American M4's,  half a dozen Russian AN-94's, a British L115A3 sniping rifle and an L85A1 which I picked up as I was quite familiar with it obviously. There was armour, anti-personal stuff, night vision, the usual. I noticed a rather worrying array of hand to hand blades and of course a couple of very Russian looking RPG's. I asked Watty about why we were rather overstocked on knives and Machetes - he replied "F*ck mate we are fighting pirates on the high seas! Got to get a bit of sword fighting in!" I made a mental note to stay away from this guy should the sh*t hit the fan.

 

I asked him about the rest of our team and he just shrugged. “They ain’t Russians they’re Latvians – the company never employs locals from the Black Sea, way too much drama, infighting and backstabbing – Half the states bordering the Black Sea are dipping their toes into the Piracy game, particularly Chernarus. Pav, Andris and Ludis – that’s our boys. I’ve never worked with them before but I hear they’re ex SUV – Latvian special forces they’ll be solid and not to be f*cked with. ”

 

I got a tour of the mess, galley and then my cabin. I stowed my stuff and as I was to get the second watch, I propped up the L85 just in hands reach, jumped in the bunk and slept like a baby as Bright Constellation pulled out of Istanbul.

 

Basically the drill was that we split the 24 hours in to two shifts of twelve hours manned by two men each. Watty would be around and would act as back up and main liaison with the Captain, a rather dour Merchant Navy guy from England called Briars. Briars was obviously relieved we were on board but hated our presence with every fibre of his being. The lets say not completely professional Watty annoyed the hell out of him also. I sympathised and I also understood he was from the old school British merchant fleet where things were done properly and you didn’t have a bunch of gorillas armed to the teeth loitering on your ship.

 

Anyhow back to the plan - one operative would stay on the bridge and one would patrol the ship weather permitting whilst staying in radio contact. If you were off duty Watty's rule was "you can get pissed up, but no drugs and if you are pissed you better still be able to point your gun, the right f*cking way round when the pirates turn up. If you f*ck it up you’ll have my foot in your arse up to the ankle".

 

The journey was a short haul three and a half days max as the ship was travelling slowly due to so much junk and if rumours were to be believed mines in the water - so we were lucky to get above 10knots. Watty said the cargo was electronics and medical supplies; when asked what was in a few special yellow containers with a very “HazMaty” type logo on the sides Watty replied  “they contain - none of your f*cking business mate.”

 

I took the night watch with Pav and he elected to wander the ship AN-94 cradled in his arms. Pav was the short of guy you see on Soviet propaganda posters of WW II. Granite jawed and built like a pissed off T-34. I sat on the bridge with three crew members and cat-napped the way only soldiers and nurses can do with one eye and one ear half cocked open.

 

I snapped awake, I'd overheard the crew talking to each other quietly. The guys were all Cypriots or Turks I couldn't tell and I asked Metin the officer on duty if there was a problem, he was a dapper, quietly spoken man whom obviously held the respect of his crew members.

 

He looked at me for a moment and said 'We are not sure, probably nothing - we are passing close to the port of Elektrozavodsk, I have passed this way many times. Chernarus is not safe as you know these days but this is different do you see?" We both looked out of the port windows into the darkness of the night - It was moonless and beyond the ships lighting it was impossible to tell where sea and sky joined. I said I couldn't see anything wrong, in fact I couldn't see anything.  Metin replied "Precisely! Elektro is the second largest city in Charnarus and yet there is no lights, even during the fighting you would expect to see something, shells, fires or flares but there is nothing out there at all just darkness - we are halfway across Chernarus and we have not seen one light!"

 

I must admit I was spooked because the crew was spooked. I radioed Pav, updated him and got a grunt in reply, but he agreed to keep an eye on the port side. It was then that the radio broke out into life into something like garbled Russian.  I sort of hung behind not sure I should be poking my nose into this.  Metin didn’t seemed concerned by my lurking and explained,  "It's a Georgian fishing vessel up ahead - it is notifying us that it is having issues with it's netting - it is caught on something and for us to give it some space - so it can resolve it's problems". I asked if it was Legit and Metin replied that its call sign suggested so, and he knew of the boat and its skipper. He altered course slightly but informed the radio operator to maintain contact in case it needed assistance. I wondered what a fishing vessel was doing out here if things were so unsafe? Metin must have read my mind - "The Georgians support the Chernarus Communists, they have nothing to fear from the "Chedakis". 

 

I figured that the Chedakis were the rebels and was going to ask Metin to continue when again the radio crackled, even though I couldn't understand what was said it was clear that the Georgian was becoming more agitated. Metin translated, 'The vessel is called the "Chayka" – the ‘Seagull’, her engines have stopped and she is listing to starboard. The skipper is requesting assistance I must inform the Captain". With that our craft again altered its course and Metin went to contact Briars.

 

I got the impression that Briars was reluctant to assist the Chayka,  Metin mentioned that the coastguard from neighbouring countries was unlikely to enter Charnarus waters and reminded Briars of  certain codes of the sea. Also the radio had raised nothing from Chernarus. They had obviously issued a blanket ban on communications.

 

The conversation finished abruptly and Metin walked away from the intercom. 'We go and offer assistance to the Chayka and I'll update the Captain when we arrive." I wondered about telling Watty but decided against it; so far this didn’t feel like it was an issue to bother the rest of the Ops team with. Metin obviously felt this was above board and I trusted him. I let Pav know but he seemed uninterested. I checked my watch and the dial told me it was 01:00am, peering out the darkness remained absolute as the engines growled noticeably louder as we increased our speed.

 

We reached the Chayka within 20 mins and I can say when we illuminated the boat the whole bridge was alarmed by how far the boat was listing. Metin and the Skipper rapidly exchanged information. Metin reached the intercom and informed Briars that the Chayka was likely to go under soon and her crew was about to abandon ship. Bright Constellation was awoken by alarms to summon the crew to assist as she slowed to a stop. I looked down and noticed the taciturn Pav throwing Life belts out to sea, his AN-94 now strapped to his back. Two crew members manhandled lines and inflatable rafts over the side.

 

I let Metin know I’d go and help, just as Watty arrived on the bridge and I wondered where the other two Latvians had ended up but then spotted them arrive on deck. Slinging my L85 over my back I grabbed a pocket flashlight from a rack on the bridge and headed outside. Half the ships crew was now on deck, there was no sense of panic and glancing over the side I could see around 10 people in the water or in the process of being hauled aboard. The Chayka looked a wreck and I wondered what “Health and Safety” translated in Georgian was. Even for a calm night it looked fragile like a bird’s nest, I was amazed it hadn’t sunk years ago. Pav nodded to me and shouted over that he had everything under control. The Chayka’s steel hull moaned as it drifted away from Bright Constellation, Floating on its side like harpooned whale.

 

Realising I was as much use as a spare prick at a wedding I moved down below to grab blankets from the stores to hand out to the fishermen. After about 10 minutes I came back up and with a comical dance combined of having no sea-legs and carrying too many blankets I waltzed over to the fishermen depositing my load on the deck. A fisherman smiled, nodded and reached for a blanket thanking me. It was then I stood and turned to see Pav pointing his AN-94 at Watty. I had a very brief feeling of disorientation as if a drug had just kicked in. Then time slowed down as I could feel my combat training assert itself, my hand reached for my own gun and then it stopped. The feel of a barrel of a FNX-45 gently resting on the side of my head held by SUV trained Ludis can stop most things.

 

Watty was yammering – his accent became more singsong and nasally as the more stressed he became, I imagined this is how he sounded growing up in his sh*tty Sydney suburb; the faux surfer dialect well and truly gone.

 

 My initial assessment of him being fried came to mind as he was trying to use some army bullshit intimidation tactic. Pav just stared at him impassively. The rest of the fishing crew had pulled out hand guns and were rounding up the cargo ships’ crew. Andris with two others made for the bridge.  

 

I told Watty to shut the f*ck up and asked if I could remove my weapon. My job now was to act calmly. Also not to get killed by my former Latvian comrades and their friends was up there too. Ludis nodded and I put the L85 on the deck and resumed holding my hands up.

 

A few minutes passed and Briars and Metin came on deck hands raised, followed by Andis with a M4.  I’ll give both credit they were handling the situation better than Watty although Briars looked like he was about to kick off. The rest of the crew stood still, silent, like they were waiting for a funeral service – I scolded myself that this analogy under the circumstances was hardly a morale boost.

 

Pav stepped forward gun still raised. “We are Lions of Ossetia and we seize this vessel to aid us in out struggle against Georgia”.  He spoke next to Watty “You fought with Georgia in 2008?” Watty started and began to speak, but was cut off. “It is pointless to deny this; we have done our homework on you.” Pav pulled the trigger twice, two shots to the face which threw Watty across the deck in a spray of blood, and gore that had an immediate effect on cooling down Briars. Watty was dead the instant the rounds entered his skull.

 

Pav turned to us “Metin we require to steer the ship, the crew also, they will be released unharmed when we are ready to do so, you two” he waved the gun at Briars and me, ‘we have no quarrel, but we do not need you also, over there is Chanarus, it is approximately 6 kilometres. It is a warm and calm night, if you are lucky you can swim to the shore. Now gentlemen overboard please, perhaps try and find a life raft?”

 

I was in the water pushing towards the shore, hoping I was going the right way. I was astonished at how quickly and professionally they had taken the ship and disposed of us – minutes, in f*cking minutes and me an ex-Para just stood there like a mong. I turned and called out to Briars but although I could hear splashing he never spoke. Bright Constellation sat in the water for around 10 minutes and then the engines groaned back into life and she slowly moved off. The Chyka had vanished and I reckoned she had been scuttled as bait and that’s how she went down so quickly.

 

I began to question Pavs’ definition of a warm night but I swam on, grateful that I was a pretty decent swimmer.  Slowly as my eyes became used to the dark I began to make out the shore.

 

I never knew what happened to Briars.

 

After sometime my feet hit sand, still in darkness I gasped and pulled myself out of the sea. In jeans and a t shirt, my shoes soaked I began to shiver.  The salt water had left me dehydrated and stupidly I muttered to myself “I feel thirsty.” I reached inside my pocket and reached for the flashlight, pulling it out I switched it on… 

Edited January 14, 2014 by Jonah_Hobbes

[DevilDog (DayZ) 455]

Wow some amazing stories and backgrounds here. I love it and hope this thread keeps going. (Frank there are no girls that are Navy SEALs though. Maybe she was an admin of some type? Then again this is a world with Zombies so why not lol.)

 

Anyway, here is the latest of my creations. I love how sometimes you don't create a character for this game, but this game actually creates the character for you.

 

 

 

Name: DevilDog

Position: Field Agent

Specialty: Medic

 

The Inglorious Bastards are a Private Military Company that was formed during the early years of the Chernarus political unrest. The large size and unstable environment of the country meant that the company had plenty of room to grow. With the large amount of cash that was coming in their numbers grew to 250+ agents in country. It was a mix of Russian and American agents and also made use of local commando's. When the outbreak struck the headquarters in Moscow and New York did not know how to respond. They were unable to get the agents out of Chernarus so they struck a deal for even more money to help with the situation. Many agents were killed during the early days of the outbreak and many others are just missing. DevilDog has set up an office in Elektro and recruits from there. As time goes by more and more field agents come in from different parts of the country seeking orders. As of his last report TIB has been helping the CQF (Chernarus Quarantine Force) to make Chernarus safe and assist all survivors.

 

 

(I plan on possibly having this turn into a non-clan clan. Meaning we (agents) play together when we feel like and assist CQF as well, but nothing else similar to a clan at all. No requirements other than a back story and no being a bandit.)

[irl-calibre 744]

 

This is famous Swizz photographer Jean Pierre lebeau. Jean Pierre came to prominence at a young age as the world record holder for Keepy Uppy's.
His star continued to rise winning gold for his home nation in the Biathlon event during the 2010 Winter Games. He is best known for being awarded the International Photography award 2012 for his picture of a lost tribe of hermaphrodite pygmies in the Amazon. While traveling to the former Soviet states to work for National Geographic his boat got into difficulties and sank. 
 

[Jonah_Hobbes 171]

I actually met a hermaphrodite once. She went the female route - a little messed up.

[Immersive 121]

At one point I was a surviving Major League Baseball player mad at the fact I'm not making millions of dollars due to the zombie infection. I beat them over the head with my baseball bat, it's not very effective though.

[bfisher 561]

My new character.  The last one met with an unfortunate...accident.

 

 

 

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