Hello all! I propose that we as a community post here and share back stories to our character. I for one am going to be very serious in RP within the game itself, I've named my ship something spiffy, I've converted my name into something Steampunk
here, used an old age voice, and more. But what I'm missing is a story and I encourage others to post one for themselves. You can be anything, make yourself famous, meet other people from their stories, whichever position of the ship you like (Commander, pilot, engineer, gunner, or something entirely different!) whatever. If you post your story, length doesn’t matter. Make it short or long, it’s your story.
Since I was the age of six, I've been fascinated with Gabriel's voyage of the Icarus. The actual voyage wasn't what turned me on though, it was the ship itself. From that young age I watched ships fly, battle, and land from afar until I was eight and decided I was going to build my own airship. I had visions of embarking across the desert finding riches and becoming a famed aviator. Since only the important members of factions had access to actual copies of Gabriel’s work and reverse engineered designs, I had to get as close to the ships as guards would let me or use my telescope to watch them function during battle. I had no one to restrict me from following my dreams for both my parents died from the red death a week before my tenth birthday birthday. This kept on until I was thirteen.
From a safe distance, I watched as an Empire’s galleon attacked a Guild’s galleon on the outskirts. After hours of onslaught, the Guild repelled its attacker and the Empire’s galleon turned tail and fled, huge columns of smoke trailing behind it. I realized a little too late that the Empire’s ship was falling at a steady pace and moving in my direction. I booked my way out of there, running for dear life. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash and I was thrown several feet forward by shock waves and blacked out.
When I came to, it was already night and everything smelled of smoke and death. I turned around and saw the husk of the defeated galleon, still smoldering. I was too exhausted to do anything and I fell back to the earth and slept. In the morning, I realized that this was my opportunity. My dream. I could turn this downed whale into something of my own and get it back into the air again, fresh for adventure. I rushed to the corpse of the behemoth. There were of course no survivors and most of the ship was damaged beyond repair. I spent the next few years of my life venturing out to the outskirts of that broken city, hauling the useable parts of this ship back home. Bit by bit.
I was seventeen when the ship was complete. It was much smaller than the original aircraft but it was a sight to see nonetheless. I build my own junker. All my possessions were already packed onboard, seeing as it would be my new home and set off to the dead city where all this had started, hoping to follow where the Guild’s ship had gone and join in their territory where I could trade any treasure I find and become famous, like I had always dreamt of doing. Unbeknownst to me, the Guild and the Republic were warring over kerosene deposits and as a result the Republic set up blockades in that area, seeing as moving through the labyrinth of the dead city was a quick travel route for tankers to move from the deposits to a major Guild city. I slowly entered the city when two Repbublic goldfish and a Spire ambushed me from behind thinking I was a Guild merc, taking the risk of traveling through the city. I was so surprised I put the ship on full speed and barreled through the city. I had to lose those ships; I couldn’t bear the shame of having my dreams ruined by being captured. Left, left, right, forward, left, right, up, down, up again. I was making decisions so fast I didn’t notice the explosions of Republic ships crashing into buildings. Before I knew it, I made it out of the city and was on the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked forward and encountered an entire fleet of Republic ships. I surrendered for fear of being blown into smithereens. I was thrown into jail and my ship confiscated.
I spent a year in that hellhole, beating myself up for not turning myself in at the start. I could have been free. When I was eighteen, I was called by the guards to an interrogation room. Curious, I let myself be sat down into a chair, facing a man dressed in the nicest clothing I had ever seen. He introduced himself as Rear Admiral Teller and explained that many senior officers had seen me fly through that city and were impressed with my skills in maneuvering with such a clumsy airship such as a junker. He asked me a few questions about myself and the ship I flew before offering me a proposition. Either join the Republic where I’ll be a low ranking officer and I’ll be given a full pardon including a crew and a ship of my choosing or rot in jail for the rest of my life. I hesitated a moment , acknowledging that I’d be giving up my freedom, but I decided that if I move up in ranks and do well, I can quit and lead an independent life. I told him “I’ll join, but I want my old ship back.”
He snickered and asked me “Sonny, does she even have a name?”
I realized that I hadn’t named it yet and thought for a moment. I picked up a bit of an archaic language called Latin in an old book in the prison library. After a moment I replied smoothly “the
Nova Tempus, it means new time, in honor of what you’ve given me.”
He chuckled again and said “She’s what we call a junker, boy, that doesn’t look good on the Republic if we have a ship that that in our fleet.”
“Well you kept it for a reason, it’s my ship, I built it myself and it’s not going to waste.” I countered.
He let out a sigh and said OK. He filled out some paper and told me to follow him onto his ship so he could get me to mine.
I, Silas Knight, have been serving for the Republic for seven years now and am one of the youngest captains in the fleet and have moved through the ranks quickly and am currently an Ensign. Through the years, I’ve given up on leaving the Republic, my dreams are no longer important. What dreams are important are those of our leader and his vision of our future.
To everyone that posts, feel free to rate other people’s submissions and give feedback on things that don’t make sense (I know some of mine doesn’t match the story of Guns of Icarus accurately).
