|Smirking Smuggler Swerves Subtly; Sometimes Shoots SMGS|
|puns and ironic innuendo|
Metatype - C |
Attributes - A
Magic/Resonance - E
Skills - C
Resources - C
- 1 Character Information
- 2 In Character Information
FedUp is an elf, but slight of figure and graceful of motion is where the racial comparisons end. He has grown a healthy, thick beard, that hides a near constant smirk. His beard fades well into his undercut: tight on the sides and long on the top. Often his #1dacd6 cybereyes can be caught staring intently into nothing, lost in some mental rabbit hole he might not come out of for hours. His voice has a slight drawl to it, but that is a byproduct of growing up in the CAS.
FedUp isn't afraid to let his hair down once the run is over. His drugs of choice are generally causing mischief in the chat channels and breaking the speed limit. He can have a hard time telling when to quit with either. His quick wit and sharp tongue keep him both in and out of trouble, depending on who he is talking to, or how bored he is. Sometimes he can talk his way out of a jam, but, too often, his mouth stirs up trouble before his brain even has time to process what he said.
If he doesn't seem focused on the task at hand, it is probably because he isn't. Once he zeroes in on something that needs doing though, it can take a lot more than threats of violence or death to keep him from giving up.
Today: Do the job, get paid, and maybe make a few friends and not lose who he is in the process. Needs a faster car though.
Tomorrow: FedUp really wants to
eat a banshee learn to fly an airplane. Tracking down his absent father has also become a personal priority.
After that: Get enough creds so that the people he cares about never have to want or worry. Also, find people to care about - maybe he should try to track down the others from the desert.
Born in Texas in the CAS, FedUp is a SINless bastard. Not by choice, of course, but when SINners use the SINless, consequences fall to the children. FedUp's father had a SIN. It was a pretty good one too; he used it's connections to drop out of FedUp's life as soon as he could. FedUp's mother was little better; she did just enough to keep them both from sleeping in the streets, and then spent the rest of the money on BTLs or lost it to Ponzi schemes. As a result, FedUp grew up watching con-men and shysters work his mom over, again and again. He loved to listen to them work, even though he knew what it meant every time a new suit and tie walked in the front door. Eventually, he stuck around enough that he picked up their manipulative way of speaking to people: fast and clever and with no substance, but exactly what everyone wanted to hear.
FedUp first took the family car for a joyride on his 13th birthday. Every day after that, while his mom was BTLing at the house, he would get behind the wheel and feel at home. He taught himself to drive by pushing the machine to it's limits on the streets and alleyways of the sprawl between Dallas and Fort Worth. The whole road was one big racetrack and he wanted to be first. He pushed that car around corners and weaved through traffic and certainly crashed it more than once, but, as the months and years went by, he crashed less and turned faster and, sometime after he turned 14, he started to race other divers. He didn't win much in his old beater, but he made enough money to keep him and the car running. As he got better at driving, FedUp realized he needed a new ride, and for that he would need creds. For creds, he would need a job.
His first steady source of income wasn't at all what he expected. One of the older racers saw him hammering away under the hood, and asked him if he wanted to earn some extra creds turning a wrench. FedUp said yes at the mention of more nuyen. He spent his days working on whatever rolled into the shop, and he raced all night, turning to home when the sun started coloring the horizon. However, he was too restless to stay in one place for long, and he kept an ear to the ground, looking for a way to skip town.
That opportunity rolled into the shop wearing a suit, tie, and a SIN. They were looking for some mechanically-inclined bodies who wouldn't leave a trail if they disappeared for a few years. FedUp left the CSA the same day. He didn't know where he went after that. They knocked him out as soon as he was in the car with them, and, when he woke up, he had a control rig installed and a working knowledge on how to fix most machines. Then, they dumped him on a runway in the desert with a few others and he started his new job. Mostly, they fixed aircraft. Mostly. A lot of terrible things came through that secluded runway. The normal black market fare of weapons, experimental tech and drugs were present, of course, but there were other, darker cargoes. He knew to keep his mouth shut about it if he wanted to get out alive. Most questions were answered with a shallow grave.
One day, he rolled in to the shop to see a different suit than the one that hired him. This one fired him and everyone else at the shop, then loaded them all on a plane and, once again, knocked him out. When he came to this time, he was in Seattle with enough creds in his pocket to start a decent life. Instead, he bought the fastest car on the lot and wrecked it.
The elf became a Runner as soon as he entered the shop that his car was at. That was when he met Sid. Sid knew that cars didn't get this trashed because of a lack of speed or confidence behind the wheel, and he had a friend who needed some deliveries made. Faced with the stark reality of nothing, FedUp took the job. Sid loaned him a car, gave him a package, and told him where to go and who to meet. After a while, Sid trusted FedUp enough to take him under his wing and teach him more about the in's and out's of the smuggler's trade. Next thing he knew, FedUp was smuggling Shadowrunners instead of contraband.
Narrative Significant Qualities
Subtle Pilot (Ground)
Sense of Direction
Fed Up has ADHD, and it impacts his decision making greatly. He does part-time work for a shop in Auburn about 20 minutes from where he lives.
Day Job (20 hrs): Auto Mechanic
Lack of Focus
Poor Self Control (Thrill Seeker)
Did you just call me dumb?
- Please see image to the right
|Name||GM||Metaplot||Date of Run|
|Ancient Idioms||Asmodeus||Light the Shadows|
Temple in the Shadows
|30 June 2082|
|Bug Out Bag||DiscoGoblin||15 June 2082|
|Minima de Malis||Zerre de Seattle||14 June 2082|
|Throwing Shade||Sarcarian||12 May 2082|
|Hell or High Water||Asmodeus||4 May 2082|
|Lip service||Asmodeus||Hail to the Pumpking||25 April 2082|
|House Call||Disco Goblin||22 April 2082|
|Getting One Step Ahead||Malyc||Against all odds - The OtherCon story||21 April 2082|
|Face Your Fears||Asmodeus||Hail to the Pumpking||15 April 2082|
|Sid||3||4||Fixer(N,A,G,K)||Mechanic||Ex-Runner, Rigger, Engineer, On The Low||Even|
|Frank Goldman||3||2||Custom(G, K, A, N)||Gun Runner||Firearms Dealer, Antique Vehicle Collector, Black Market Connections, West Coast Smuggling Routes||Even|
|"Wild Goose"||2||2||Gear||ID Manufacturer||SIN Forger, License Forger, Matchmaker||Even|
In Character Information
Symbols and Signatures
Matrix Search Table
|1||Fed Ex and UPS were competing delivery companies in the past.|
|3||There is an old missing person's report from Texas that might've matched his description around the time he left town.|
|6||Currently works the night shift at a garage in Auburn. Personal smuggling connections.|
Shadow Community Table
|1||Arms Smuggler and Driver|
|3||Has a few runs under his belt. Generally has the right idea, even if he does act a little impulsively.|
|5||He sent the DA a letter that was POGGERS.|
Fake SIN rating 4 (Dan Rodgers: Horizon),
Fake License rating 4 (Driver's License),
Fake License rating 4 (Weapon License),
Fake License rating 4 (Concealed Carry Permit)
On runs, his look is simple. He wears his armored, black synth-leather aviator jacket over a pair of clean navy blue overalls. He works at a mechanics shop, and doesn't want to meet Mr. Johnson covered in gunk and smelling like a fire hazard. He has a pair of upgraded goggles that are normally over his eyes or on his forehead. Even when not on a run, it is rare to see him take them all the way off; FedUp is afraid he won't remember to put them back on if he sets them down. He rounds out his professional look with a pair of well-worn boots.
He picked up some high end Mortimer at some point. He cleans up nice too.
When he isn't running, working, or attending a social event, he dresses for comfort first and fashion second. On his days off, no one who passes him on the street would notice him for his clothing. He generally wears a long-sleeved compression shirt under a short-sleeved t-shirt, and, on colder, wetter days, he covers up with a hoodie, his armored bomber jacket, or both.
He doesn't do much customizing with his AR Fashion subscription either. He prioritizes his favorite color as Cerulean and hexagon overlays.
HE HAS A LUSCIOUS, BUSHY BEARD. IT IS AWESOME.
The Stig with a beard