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In Game Name : Skig
Blockland ID : 10541
Have you read the rules and storyline? : Yes
What roleplay experience do you have : My entire Blockland summer last year was spent at Tezuni's Jail RP, I also spend time at house building RPs and so on
IC InformationCharacter's Name: Jack Barry
Character's age: 21
Gender: Male
Future Ambitions: Jack hoped to become a web/software developer. He had also considered becoming a lawyer if he made it out of this destruction alive. Jack's main goal is to return to his family someday
Skills: Military survival and combat, professional spying
Character's Appearance (In-game screenshot or Describe):
Character's biography/back-story (make this 3-4+ paragraphs w/ 5+ sentences each, and relate to the story):
(TEXT WALL) As a child, Jack did not have many friends. He considered himself an introvert. He had one strength though, his wits. Jack did rather well in school and sometimes even enjoyed learning. Born in the late 1990's, he mainly got the media information of the all too real "zombie apocalypse. His close family fled from their home state of Missouri and up into Canada before things got horribly hectic. The few news stations still operating poured the gut wrenching details of the war into Jack’s mind.
The superhuman heathens began inching further north until it may have been a matter of weeks before they were in danger of being captured. Many of the surrounding Canadians talked about shipping out to Europe until the conflict was maintained. Some new family friends of theirs had a private plane and offered to take us along to Scotland where some distant relatives lived. Jack’s parents gratefully accepted and packed up what little belongings they could hold onto. The once rich, proud country of the United States of America was dotted with murderous superhuman platoons addicted to Genementers.
The Cessna plane seated 12, a perfect amount for Jack's family and the couple who owned it. They kept a radio onboard and listened for directions from the ground dwellers that would hopefully be following them to their new homes soon. Everyone cheered when they got to the Atlantic safely. The pilot informed us how we would be stopping in Reykjavik to fuel the plane and their hungry bellies. Then they would pack up and fly straight to Scotland
The pilot had come down with influenza so everyone decided to at least stay the night in a motel. It was interesting seeing the foreign vehicles. Jets passed by often, obviously Americans and Canadians fleeing to Europe and Africa. Jack laid on his cot, the words, “…the land of the free, and the home of the brave…” played in his head. A tear slid down Jack’s cheek and he silently cried himself to sleep.
Jack was the first one awake the next morning. It was still dark outside. The streetlights illuminated the ice covered window panes a few steps away from his cot. He just stared at the ceiling for a couple hours trying to contemplate what the world was going through right now. Jack was a religious boy and thought he was ready for the world to end, but this was just heartbreaking.
Jumping forward about five years, Jack and his family were living in the beautiful green Scotland. They had the Russian army on the east and the US and British armies on the west. When Jack turned 21 he decided to join the US Army and fight the heathens that ruined his country. Jack was put in a training camp in New York.
He was put in the 274th rifle division and sent to a camp all the way in Oregon since they were low on troops.
There he met Badspot and… The camp was only a few miles out of enemy lines. Jack had to take shifts hauling around his M16 gazing at the tree line practically having a panic attack searching for snipers. After a long night of worrying, he and a squad were sent out to patrol the area. The squad introduced themselves as Sgt. Mitchell and then a few Privates who he couldn’t care less what their names were. Jack sat down low in the passenger seat with his assault rifle, ready for action.
After creeping along the tree line for about ten minutes there was a loud rustling in the forest. The Sergeant let the machine gun go. A dead bloody deer rolled out of the woods and off the embankment. The Sergeant let out a cuss word and said, “That was close. So this is your first action, eh Barry?”
“Yes sir, but I think we’re huntin’ a different type of animal.”
“You got that right, Private, we’ll get those monst- GET DOWN“ a deafening shot rang in their ears. Blood spilled down Pvt. Barry’s shoulder as the Sergeant fell on him like a limp ragdoll. He was choking on his own blood trying to spit out the words “GO”, got the driver thinking they should get the heck out of there. They sped deeper into the woods away from enemy territory…but that’s the funny thing about enemy lines…they are always moving. A Humvee going to opposite direction almost ran the Jeep off the dirt path. The enemy on the mounted machine gun swung around and open fired. The Jeep’s driver screamed as his left arm was pelted with gunfire. Jack grabbed the Private’s right arm and yanked them both out of the Jeep and into the ditch. It was the right move to make, as the Jeep exploded when the fuel tank was hit.
Jack opened his mud caked eyes, he couldn’t see anything. A small ray of light was overhead. He craned his neck up and saw the moon. He wasn’t dead? Jack wiped some of the dirt and blood off his face and crawled out the foxhole he had landed in. What was going on? He began to remember the Sergeant being shot. Then the Humvee…wait…the Jeep driver! He sat up and looked around. A man lay in the ditch with a small pool of dry blood at his side. Jack lifted the helmet off his face but slammed it back down. The Private’s empty eyes stared back up at him. His neck was broken. Jack limped back into the forest shaking his head. He began trekking back to the direction of camp.
The barracks lay in ashes; the barbed wire was mangled and wrapped up in balls. Voices echoed from the ruins, “Well guys, this might be it…” Jack peered around a still standing lookout tower and saw a US Army helicopter with several men around it. He slowly limped over. They noticed the muddy soldier and asked who he was. Jack stuttered that he was Private Barry and his squad was killed. They told him the rest of the surviving camp had flown to British Columbia and they were the last flight out. Jack had a close call.
It was much colder in British Columbia than Oregon. The icy wind rattled the helicopter doors, but something didn’t seem right. There was a distant whirring sound. It sounded like it was coming from the left of the helicopter. The machine gun hatch flew open, “Sir, we’ve got a chopper coming from the west! Get ready!” the machine gunner yelled and slammed the hatch. Jack pulled his parachute close around him and prayed he wouldn’t die after coming this far. The soldiers heard the purr of their machine gun, starting a dogfight. But they had underestimated them. A loud crash wrenched the helicopter over 90 degrees. “The tail’s hit! Bail out!” the pilot barked. Several soldiers struggled to get out the door before the whole bird went up in smoke. Four of them made it, including Jack.
Once on the ground, they loaded their Colts and bundled up. They all agreed to head for the nearest camp. An itty bitty veteran camp in Alaska some called the Republic was not too terribly far away. Well, that’s Private Jack Barry’s story.
What faction do you hope to join (if any)?: Republic
Let me know if something needs fixing
EDIT: thought of a better name
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