since there's some minor critiquing happening in here, anyone have opinions on my conduct on the RP forums vs the presented bio here? does it seem mismatched? I'm thinking about rewriting it to be a bit less generic.

Um....some of your facts are kind of vague, you answered the question examples I gave, but didn't say what you were answering, maybe answer them?

But go ahead and redesign your bio, not too much to the point that your character is completely different...but you know...be free! Be creative! Go on and embrace your inner mercenary!

yeah, I probably will rewrite that, maybe a bit happier to match the boisterous attitude I tend to go with... or maybe timid and since stopped giving a crap since I don't have to worry about being backstabbed since I'm immortal, choices, choices.

I liked the dossier style earlier.



File on call-sign: Heathen Bastard

Original name: {REDACTED}

Age of standard clone: approx 24.

Friends/family: Friends with Jakar Umbra, associates with DeadlyAztec11 on occasion, affiliation unknown

Enemies: Amarr(general, doesn't like them "picking on" the minmatar), Anything that threatens someone "innocent" in his eyes.

Standard attire: Heavy leather boots, Black pants, brown leather belt, Long, large-floral-print shirt(green) with lower buttons and top button undone for mobility, Leather long coat with large semi-geometric symbol on back. Half-back length light blue hair

Formal attire: Black leather shoes with sliver banding, black silk pants, Maroon shirt, Black patterned vest, Hair kept in ponytail.

Combat report: Tends to alternate between offensive styles(Primarily favors: Heavy vehicles, Pistols, and Heavy Machine Guns) Fairly weak on the support end of combat.

Early life: {REDACTED} was born to a fairly average family on caldari prime. Living near a caldari ghetto he quickly took to their ideals of fighting no matter the odds, and shortly after began causing problems in school by calling the teachers liars and getting into fights with the other students.

Coming home with a black eye and suspension notice quickly became the norm for his parents. His father(gallente, minor bureaucrat) slowly became cold and distant, wishing for a son whom he could be proud of, not some problem to defuse. His mother(caldari, possible ties to resistance fighters) saw a passion and began to show him old tools of war, bows, throwing knives, deception. He took to them like an amarrian to a gold plated ship.

Eventually, he was expelled after one fight too many, and his father disowned him. He was unsurprised by this, and only recoiled at being banned from the grounds. He quickly turned to a life of crime, using the skills his mother taught him. One day he chose the wrong mark. An unremarkable man, {REDACTED} was an active member of the Black Eagles, on leave at the time.

Coming to find his home ransacked, {REDACTED} set about tracking down the "punk" who did it. It took 3 days of searching, but eventually, {REDACTED} was cornered. Surveillance tapes of the area he was cornered in show his potential last moments. Staring down the barrel of a bolt pistol, he smiled. The agent seemed to like this and instead of executing him on the spot, merely knocked him unconscious.

When he came to, he was "asked" to join the black eagles at gunpoint. It can be assumed he accepted.

Past that, information is classified.

Approximately 1 year later the call-sign Heathen Bastard began to surface in clone contracts during Mordu's trials.

Assumed/stated goals: Find some worthy opponents, become someone his father can be proud of, keep being someone his mother is proud of. Maybe meet a nice girl and travel the stars, burning down anything that shoots first.

Fears: Only thing that seems to evoke a serious response is a threat to someone he cares about, or what seems like an unfair fight.

Qualities: Always trying to make a joke, Steadfast, sometimes bull-headed, tends to negotiate with violence as a first/second response, sometimes helps criminals if they're being ganged up on by security, Noted self as an "amazon chaser" occasionally talks to inanimate objects(his pistols primarily).

Has been noted humming the tune of "paper moon" as he inspects his pistols prior to battle.((specifically, a dubbed version. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5fAz4rmOQ4))

The Story.

On a scientific exploration of a planet long forgotten through time and space, the DNA of several Spartan warriors were recovered from an ancient tomb in one of the Greek cities hailed as Sparta. The DNA was then isolated, researched, and finally reconstructed into clone form.

Scriptures and lore from the planet reveal that the race that had originally inhabited the world, had fled to this system, to escape the technology from their old world, that they feared would be the end of all life as they knew it.

They were a primitive species that excelled at the Art of War through crude methodology. They settled their differences with honor, and not by complete eradication of their foes.

This particular cities'' soldiers had been selectively bred over hundreds of generations to produce the most combat effective warriors their planet had to offer.

Though this was not enough, as their fears were brought to life when the weapons of mass destruction that they once fled to escape, had reached their new home-worlds' orbit.

Not having the adequate technology needed to defend themselves, their resistance was futile, and their race was annihilated swiftly, and without mercy.

Sparta, was the last city on the planet to fall to the tyrants great power. Not because of their battlefield prowess, but because the invaders had decided to use them as a mere punching bag to give their cloned infantry some experience for their next undertaking.

The invaders stripped the planet of all viable resources, leaving little or no evidence that life had flourished in this new barren wasteland. Then trekked back into the stars, with a sole mission to integrate the universe.


The newly cloned specimens were henceforth loaded unto a transport vessel, and prepped to be sent to the darkest region of Amar territory, for hopes of the great profit that may be obtained from them.

While en route to their destination, the transport was attacked and subdued by several rogue pirate ships, under contract by a recently freed slave race. Thus saving the clones from the eternity of slavery that they had been damned for.

The clones' saviors educated the Spartans of their past, and the story of how their world had been exterminated by the great war machine. Enraged, the Spartans vowed vengeance for their race, at any cost.

The Spartan clones, owing a great debt for their freedom, now live to serve their new masters with unfaltering loyalty, in hopes of achieving the one thing they had been bred for. Honor, which can only be obtained by defeating the most advanced and superior race in the known universe, and freeing the remaining slaves of their saviors, restoring their empire to its' former greatness.

no one said earth.

And the people of the planet can be named whatever my imagination wishes.

Not gonna lie, Maxima sounds like a kool kat. Maybe that's why I pick on her despite the fact she could probably fold Galm like a lawn chair.

The Story.

On a scientific exploration of a planet long forgotten through time and space, the DNA of several Spartan warriors were recovered from an ancient tomb in one of the Greek cities hailed as Sparta. The DNA was then isolated, researched, and finally reconstructed into clone form.

Scriptures and lore from the planet reveal that the race that had originally inhabited the world, had fled to this system, to escape the technology from their old world, that they feared would be the end of all life as they knew it.

They were a primitive species that excelled at the Art of War through crude methodology. They settled their differences with honor, and not by complete eradication of their foes.

This particular cities'' soldiers had been selectively bred over hundreds of generations to produce the most combat effective warriors their planet had to offer.

Though this was not enough, as their fears were brought to life when the weapons of mass destruction that they once fled to escape, had reached their new home-worlds' orbit.

Not having the adequate technology needed to defend themselves, their resistance was futile, and their race was annihilated swiftly, and without mercy.

Sparta, was the last city on the planet to fall to the tyrants great power. Not because of their battlefield prowess, but because the invaders had decided to use them as a mere punching bag to give their cloned infantry some experience for their next undertaking.

The invaders stripped the planet of all viable resources, leaving little or no evidence that life had flourished in this new barren wasteland. Then trekked back into the stars, with a sole mission to integrate the universe.


The newly cloned specimens were henceforth loaded unto a transport vessel, and prepped to be sent to the darkest region of Amar territory, for hopes of the great profit that may be obtained from them.

While en route to their destination, the transport was attacked and subdued by several rogue pirate ships, under contract by a recently freed slave race. Thus saving the clones from the eternity of slavery that they had been damned for.

The clones' saviors educated the Spartans of their past, and the story of how their world had been exterminated by the great war machine. Enraged, the Spartans vowed vengeance for their race, at any cost.

The Spartan clones, owing a great debt for their freedom, now live to serve their new masters with unfaltering loyalty, in hopes of achieving the one thing they had been bred for. Honor, which can only be obtained by defeating the most advanced and superior race in the known universe, and freeing the remaining slaves of their saviors, restoring their empire to its' former greatness.

No offense, great story though, as Adamance said, you might get some flak. I'm willing to roll with the idea, it's a nice ode to Earth and I like the idea.

Yet my only concern is it doesn't talk about who you are. Who the character you rp as is.....you told the basic of your past, but what's your description? Walking around in a dropsuit in the middle of a population dense area isn't going to look good.

IGS is a place for clones to relax or live the life of a mortal just for a second in their immortal life. So, maybe talk about what you look like, your name or aliases, personality. What makes you different from the crowd?

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

The woman smiles at her companions question as they walk down the hangar platform.

"Immortal soldiers, Xad. As if capsuleers weren't bad enough...no offense"

"None taken," the man laughs. "Believe me, I know."

"In any case, Mordu's trials are a great cover. With the amount of media coverup, this is the best shot at getting real intel."

The pair reaches the end of the walkway, overlooking a large section of the stations main hangar. Nestled in the docking ring in front of them is a Ares-class interceptor. The man leans against the railing and stares out over the enormous bay,

"I can't argue any of that, but I'm just...worried"

The woman steps up to the railing and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"They've worked the bugs out of the implants now, and they've stopped using sleeper ones. According to all we've seen, the data transfers should work just fine"

He turns toward her.

"And what if it doesn't? What if we can't get you back, and you're stuck like that?"

She crosses her arms and sighs.

"Worst case scenario, I'll still be ME, just...different"

"Yeah, in some freakish, genderless body".

"I KNEW you only liked me for my body!" she shouts with a grin. She looks down, and jokingly clutches her chest. "I think I would miss these, though"

"I'm trying to be serious."

"Well stop it," she curtly replies, "it's only stressing you out". A moment of silence passes, and she leans in toward the man, putting her arm around his shoulder. "Is this about the 'soul' thing?" she asks.

"No. Well, maybe...I don't know" the man pushes away from the railing and paces. "I know it's stupid, but I can't get it out of my head. Besides, we don't know how the informorph will handle the transfers. There's a lot of places this whole thing could fail and..." The man stares at her "and I don't want anything to happen to you."

She steps up to him, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"Nothing is going to fail. We've both re-checked the connections a hundred times". The man attempts to protest but she silences him with a finger. "If anyone is capable of handling any problems that might come up, it's you. Now, stop making this more difficult than it is."

She moves a hand to his cheek. "I'll be waiting for you to bring me back".

The Khanid woman begins slowly walking back toward the living quarters. "Now come on, lets get this over with so we can give Mordu his show".

The Gallentean man stares out at the traffic-filled bay for a moment longer, before following her back inside.