Post by Endicott on Oct 26, 2014 17:36:40 GMT -5
Character Name: Murdoch
Nickname(s): "Big Master"
Race: East Coast Super Mutant
Sex: Male
Age: 44
Birthplace: Rivet City, Capital Wasteland
Height: 10.4'0, though his hunch makes him around 8'0
Weight: 794lb
Eye Color: Dark Green, covered by an orange-ish film
Hair Color: N/A
Hair Style: N/A
Facial Hair: N/A
Skin Color: Yellow-Green
Build: Incredibly Muscled, more so than most of his mutant brethren. However, this obviously affects his speed and agility, hence why he sticks to using melee weapons or his fists as opposed to guns, and also hence why he isn't exactly the the best at keeping anything he holds intact.
Distinguishing Features: Still retains the scraps of clothing he had when he was first "dipped", The fact that he is not hostile to humans or ghouls (though this isn't really out of some kind of allegiance with them or liking of them, mainly due to lack of comprehension of how conflict and because he has been berated by his brothers), Jagged scarring across right side of face and all over chest area
Profession: Skull-crusher, Scavenger, Wanderer, Survivor and Explorer driven on by curiousity
Skills:
Melee Weapons, extensive
Unarmed, masterful
Survival, extensive
Training: Like his other mutant brethren, he was trained in guerrilla tactics against the Brotherhood, how to effectively capture humans and how to use melee weapons and firearms "professionally". However, he himself has learned how to scavenge, explore and live of off the land during his time as a member of the mutant army and his time as a wanderer, though in an animalistic sense of self-preservation.
Other Abilities: Terrifying Presence, Immunity to Disease, Radiation and Cancer, Higher tolerance to pain and Higher health regeneration
Apparel: The torn remains of a blue workman's jacket, shreds of what once were grey jeans, the tatters of some dirtied socks and brown hiking boots and the remnant of a once-white shirt, all of which is covered in the wasteland's dust and the blood of his enemies.
Weaponry: A particularly nasty rebar club, adorned with sharpened scrap metal, screws, nuts, bolts and other junk that makes it more deadly.
Other Equipment: Rarely carries anything with him, since he's unwelcome in most towns and he gets through any food and drink on the spot.
Affiliation: Vault 87 Super Mutants (formerly), Now No-one
Religious Belief: Agnostic, mostly because he doesn't comprehend, understand or care for belief or religion, and of course due to a lack of knowledge of any belief systems other than "KILL!"
Sexual Preference: Asexual
Relationship Status: Unavailable
Personality: Murdoch, or Big Master, is a gentle Super Mutant wandering the Wastelands of the American Capital. That is not to say that he is kind or intelligent like Fawkes, Uncle Leo or Marcus. Murdoch is simply naive, not realizing the stigma attached to his condition. He seems to think that he is merely a large, discolored, extremely dim-witted human. Were it not for his immense strength and durability, he would be long dead. As such, he is a simple creature finding joy in simple things, like fighting or breaking things, or the patterns he can see in the strewn-out blood of his victims or the shape of clouds (cloud-shaped mostly),though he subconsciously knows deep down that he shouldn't start fights, only join in with fights.
As shown by his loyalty to the mutants previously, he is fiercely loyal to those who call him friends and vice versa, who are now few and far between. Strangely, he has shown an interest in reading despite being as literate as a rock, but finds solace in some of the pictures. His absent-mindedness has caused him trouble in the past too, such as when he walks care-free into a raider settlement and almost ends up in slavery after barely escaping. Something that also characterises Murdoch is his appetite, which can have the same affect on the ecosystem as a natural disaster if left for too long, though he only tends to eat "already-dead-things" or old irradiated food, and occasionally "food" such as scrap metal and rusty screws, which give him terrible indigestion...
Murdoch was born in Rivet City, his parents both founding members and later average citizens. Like most children he grew up with what the wasteland would deem an average childhood, he had a few friends here and there and had no troubles through his teenage years. Like his father, he became a member of the Rivet City Security force when he came of age and although he had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, he couldn't help but feel he had no choice in the matter; this transformation from citizen to security guard in the space of a month or two seemed like it happened without his approval or want. Nevertheless, he couldn't complain. The city was kept safe by him and his father until his death when Murdoch was in his mid 20's, and everything seemed normal for the moment. That was, until his mother disappeared and evidence of slaver involvement appeared quite possible.
Murdoch had already lost his father, and had come to terms with that, but why his mother? Did they have a thing for old ladies? Either way, he didn't know or care, but set out during his off-duty time across the areas surrounding Rivet City every day for a month. Nothing changed, and no leads turned up. It seemed hopeless, and Murdoch didn't like the idea of not knowing where she was. But soon this wouldn't matter to him, as one of his little outings finally became a little more exciting... and deadly. Super Mutants were hanging around the outskirts of D.C., and unwittingly Murdoch had been caught in a bear trap, tied up and knocked unconscious.
Although his vision was blurred from his concussion, he remembered very well where he woke up. Dark metal hallways, lined with age-old rust and filled with the muffled screams of other captives. It was about an hour before one of them came into the room for him, and when they did he struggled quite a lot, and ended up taking out one of the mutants eyes with a shards of glass. Although he should've died seconds later as the mutant, enraged and confused, crushed him with his fists, he didn't, thanks to what appeared to be the leader of this small group. This mutant prevented Murdoch's death and ordered that he be dipped, due to his display of strength. And with that, Murdoch was gone forever.
In his place stood an ape-like creature, unaware of it's location and suffering from heavy amnesia like most who have just transformed. Before he could even ask where he was, the leader of the mutants order he be taken out of the isolation room and taken with some of the others to D.C., his only instruction being to "gwab' mur' hubans' fer' makin' mur' mubams'" and his parting gift being a Super Sledge. And so, off him and his group of mutants went. Their journey to D.C. included a brief fight with some raiders and a few minutes spent terrorising a local group of wastelanders, but other than that it was rather uneventful due to the route they were taking. After traveling through several metros, they reached the D.C. plaza and without a moments notice he was instructed into fighting men in tin suits. In the first few fights, like these, he felt exhilarated and powerful, almost prideful, due to the fact that they posed such a danger to these mysterious tin foes and because they were clearly posing a threat to him and his superior mutant friends.
This was all his life consisted of for a while, so much so that he stayed in D.C. permanently. After around ten years of this same pattern, he was dubbed "Big Master" by his former mentor and fellow mutants, and he was given a club of rebar, covered with dangerously sharp (or blunt) pieces of scrap metal, in his honour of course. Big Master, war hero and skull-crusher extraordinaire. Although he sustained several wounds during his war against the tin men, he kept on fighting for another five years, against a foe he knew nothing about... until it actually hit him. Why was he fighting these men? Who were they? More importantly, why did the way they looked underneath their tin seem so familiar yet so alien? Murdoch didn't really understand any of these thoughts crossing his mind, but tried to explain it as best he could to his brothers.
Questions... and no answers. Trying to remember anything before his awakening in the dark metal place was painful and difficult, but he began to remember that he may have been like these tin men in some way, and this cast doubt over his belief in the mutant brotherhood. He confronted his fellow mutants with this, and was berated by them, unaware of what he had done to cause trouble, which just made him angry.This lead to in-fighting with them, which left him horrifically scarred and injured, but he still came out vaguely on top. Despite his naivety and lack of intelligence, he could see that these were no longer his friends of brothers anymore, and that he would have to go elsewhere.
The wasteland was harsh towards him, just as he had once been harsh towards it; he was shot at constantly by anti-mutant raiding parties and tracked by his former brothers often, leading him to have to put a lot of humans and mutants down. This gave him a primitive rush of adrenaline and pleasure, but occasionally questions crossed his mind subconsciously as he questioned who he was inbetween biting off humans' heads. The only thing he could remember was the word, "Murdoch". Was this going to be the start of some kind of enlightenment for him? Was it his birthplace? His race? Was he fighting "Murdochs"? Maybe... it was his name?
"What a stoopid' word... Murrr' Dokk'... ha, probab'wy nothen'. Murr' Dokk' not a SUPER KILL name like BIG MASTUR'! HAHA!"
Murdoch hasn't lost his naive curiousity, but it passes quickly and without much productivity to come out of it, other than a headache. Currently, he wanders the wasteland, focusing on his self-preservation and survival like an animal, though he longs for some kind of friendship, whether that be with a dog, a robot, a mutant, a ghoul or a human, though excessive blood and gore have always been good ways of forgetting about wanting friends...
