Profile: Psyk
Perhaps the most pitiful raider you will ever meet..
~~~~~~~~~~
Born to the Forged, Psyk lived with the flame worshipping raiders for the first seven years of his life. These years were just enough to scar him, mentally and physically...as part of the process of maturation, he was given numerous brands across his back and arms, all depictions of fire-y destruction of the enemies of the Forged, of which there were many. One of these, a group of nomadic raiders, had long been warring the Forged. When they finally came to a state of peace, both sides realized they needed the other’s prisoners back within their ranks. However, the nomads had taken more Forged than the other way around, and so extra compensation was needed. That compensation came in the form of Psyk, the undersized outcast with the brands on his back. He, along with the seven nomad prisoners the Forged had taken, were given back to the nomads, and transported to their homelands some miles away.
Psyk grew to know this culture more than his original, and he appreciated the lesser focus on brutality, and, especially, fire. However, Psyk was still an outcast, and was called “fire-ass” by all the kids of the tribe. Nevertheless, he kept with that tribe until he was seventeen, when the nomad tribe would return to the Commonwealth wastes.
It began when the new leader of the clan (the old one had “mysteriously” perished) proclaimed that the territory known to the tribe as their wandering lands was not quite big enough. To this new leader, the only logical choice was an invasion of the Commonwealth again. Reluctantly, the thirty four man “army” headed south.
Always roaming, the raiders happened to make many enemies, constantly moving from one gang’s turf to the next. It just so happened that the gang they became enemies with would be the same gang he would join soon after.
This gang, nameless, and new, was comprised of those who had been deemed too rough even for the rudimentary society of the raiders. They had taken up the residence of a series of apartment buildings, which had been quite mediocre before the war but now was the cornerstone of a great fortress. As soon as the new leader, a raider named Ratch, saw it, he knew he had to have it.
With battle, however, came a battle plan, and this battle plan had placed Psyk on the frontlines. The general, it seemed, had underestimated the apartment-dwellers, and the battle plan failed, with most killed or captured. One of these captured was Psyk.
The raiders, though brutal in battle and appearance, proved to actually be forgiving captors. And, like the nomads before them, they allowed
assimilation into their society.
Once the nomads had left with their tails between their legs, some semblance of normality began to return to the society of those outcasts. Psyk, though now a member of their group, would still have to learn his way around. Joining with the youngest trainees, Psyk proved to be a let-down to the leaders of the raider group, and with let-downs went beatings. Soon, Psyk’s childhood brands were almost obscured by the bruises and abrasions. These beatings, harmless to the tribal-esque leadership, would prove to be their downfall.
Psyk, despite his state of debility in the eyes of the bosses, was made a doorguard of one of their many command rooms, and it was there where he first heard whisperings of the master plan. The raider leadership, believing their manpower strong enough and their weapons stockpile large enough, had cooked up a plot to destroy the one superpower big enough to hurt their expansion, the Great Green Jewel, Diamond City.
Psyk could not, however, let the knowledge of the potential future sit with him, and the number of innocent people that would be murdered, and houses pillaged, was far past his “limits”. So he left the camp in the night, and headed straight to the Jewel.
The Security drew on him at first sight, but, thankfully, listened to his pleadings, and allowed him an audience with the Mayor. The old man wouldn’t listen to his far-fetched conspiracy theories, and kicked him out. At that time, Psyk still wore his raiding armor, made mostly of straps of leather and radstag hide. This revealing attire meant that his many scars and bruises were visible to all the denizens of the city. One man in particular, who wore the distinguishing attire of a doctor, inquired about the scars. When Psyk had told him of their origins, the doctor offered a simple service--their removal. Taking Psyk to a basement, he worked his so-called magic...and Psyk woke up the next day.
However, the doctor had made a mistake. Perhaps it was a missed adhesive or a faulty surrogate skin piece, but the skin on Psyk’s right arm was, well, falling off, and under it was a mass of wires and metal. Psyk understood immediately what this meant, and was suddenly acutely aware of all the new abilities that would come with his status.
At this point, he made it a point to separate himself completely from his old life. He took a new name, one befitting a citizen of the wastes, Dave. As soon as he could, he returned to Diamond City and took to the office of a prominent detective, who was known throughout the wastes as Aldous A.
This detective listened intently, and, once Dave had named the location of the raider headquarters, made him an official deputy. The three, Dave, Aldous, and Nick Valentine, the synth detective of the Jewel, took there to end the plans.
Unfortunately, Aldous had underestimated the raiders, and they were outgunned. At the time of the most peril, Dave made a decision. He had sacrificed all his life in the
name of nefarious deeds, and now he would sacrifice his life for the best of them. Charging a room which had been filled with a stockpile of explosives, Dave, the synth raider, initiated a pulse, and blew the camp to pieces. Though he died, his essence lived on, in the exploits of the now revered Aldous A.
~~~~~~~~
Short, and often called the runt by any that knew him, Psyk stands at approximately 5’7” (~1.5 m) and 145 lbs (~66 kg). Before his transformation, his back was branded heavily, and as such appeared mostly puffy and red or pink. After he had been transferred to his second new home, he also received many scars from whips and beatings, which came often.
His face was often described as gaunt, and his cheeks sag slightly. His head is shaved on both sides, with a small, curly fauxhawk on top. Never quite able to grow a full beard, he settled instead for a constant five o’clock shadow. His blue eyes are just slightly too far apart on his face to be deemed normal, though their shade is often described as magnificent.
~~~~~~~~~
Living most of his short life under the yolk of raider masters, Psyk often carried very little as a consequence. For some years, he was never seen apart from a teddy bear, but he was said to have lost that in the battle for the apartments.
His most commonly used weapons were a pipe and a 10mm pistol, which had a common enough round that he could fire it frequently. He named that pistol Lucille, but threw it away, along with his ratty raider attire, after his transformation. After said transformation, he often carried a cigar in his right hand, perhaps to add an air of maturity to his runtish appearance.
~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading my second ever FRP Profile. I am aware that it is a wall of text right now, but I will be updating it soon with screenshots of Psyk/Dave in-game. I haven’t had much time to play recently, if anybody cares for a reason, but I’m on spring break right now so I can get plenty of beautiful screens to pretty this up.
I hope by now that anyone reading these is starting to recognize the obvious connections between my profiles, and that’s what I’m going for here. Perhaps my next profile will be of the mysterious, malevolent doctor that ruins (or improves, depending on the vantage point) many people’s lives.
PCTY Out.
Profile: Psyk
Perhaps the most pitiful raider you will ever meet..
~~~~~~~~~~
Born to the Forged, Psyk lived with the flame worshipping raiders for the first seven years of his life. These years were just enough to scar him, mentally and physically...as part of the process of maturation, he was given numerous brands across his back and arms, all depictions of fire-y destruction of the enemies of the Forged, of which there were many. One of these, a group of nomadic raiders, had long been warring the Forged. When they finally came to a state of peace, both sides realized they needed the other’s prisoners back within their ranks. However, the nomads had taken more Forged than the other way around, and so extra compensation was needed. That compensation came in the form of Psyk, the undersized outcast with the brands on his back. He, along with the seven nomad prisoners the Forged had taken, were given back to the nomads, and transported to their homelands some miles away.
Psyk grew to know this culture more than his original, and he appreciated the lesser focus on brutality, and, especially, fire. However, Psyk was still an outcast, and was called “fire-ass” by all the kids of the tribe. Nevertheless, he kept with that tribe until he was seventeen, when the nomad tribe would return to the Commonwealth wastes.
It began when the new leader of the clan (the old one had “mysteriously” perished) proclaimed that the territory known to the tribe as their wandering lands was not quite big enough. To this new leader, the only logical choice was an invasion of the Commonwealth again. Reluctantly, the thirty four man “army” headed south.
Always roaming, the raiders happened to make many enemies, constantly moving from one gang’s turf to the next. It just so happened that the gang they became enemies with would be the same gang he would join soon after.
This gang, nameless, and new, was comprised of those who had been deemed too rough even for the rudimentary society of the raiders. They had taken up the residence of a series of apartment buildings, which had been quite mediocre before the war but now was the cornerstone of a great fortress. As soon as the new leader, a raider named Ratch, saw it, he knew he had to have it.
With battle, however, came a battle plan, and this battle plan had placed Psyk on the frontlines. The general, it seemed, had underestimated the apartment-dwellers, and the battle plan failed, with most killed or captured. One of these captured was Psyk.
The raiders, though brutal in battle and appearance, proved to actually be forgiving captors. And, like the nomads before them, they allowed
assimilation into their society.
Once the nomads had left with their tails between their legs, some semblance of normality began to return to the society of those outcasts. Psyk, though now a member of their group, would still have to learn his way around. Joining with the youngest trainees, Psyk proved to be a let-down to the leaders of the raider group, and with let-downs went beatings. Soon, Psyk’s childhood brands were almost obscured by the bruises and abrasions. These beatings, harmless to the tribal-esque leadership, would prove to be their downfall.
Psyk, despite his state of debility in the eyes of the bosses, was made a doorguard of one of their many command rooms, and it was there where he first heard whisperings of the master plan. The raider leadership, believing their manpower strong enough and their weapons stockpile large enough, had cooked up a plot to destroy the one superpower big enough to hurt their expansion, the Great Green Jewel, Diamond City.
Psyk could not, however, let the knowledge of the potential future sit with him, and the number of innocent people that would be murdered, and houses pillaged, was far past his “limits”. So he left the camp in the night, and headed straight to the Jewel.
The Security drew on him at first sight, but, thankfully, listened to his pleadings, and allowed him an audience with the Mayor. The old man wouldn’t listen to his far-fetched conspiracy theories, and kicked him out. At that time, Psyk still wore his raiding armor, made mostly of straps of leather and radstag hide. This revealing attire meant that his many scars and bruises were visible to all the denizens of the city. One man in particular, who wore the distinguishing attire of a doctor, inquired about the scars. When Psyk had told him of their origins, the doctor offered a simple service--their removal. Taking Psyk to a basement, he worked his so-called magic...and Psyk woke up the next day.
However, the doctor had made a mistake. Perhaps it was a missed adhesive or a faulty surrogate skin piece, but the skin on Psyk’s right arm was, well, falling off, and under it was a mass of wires and metal. Psyk understood immediately what this meant, and was suddenly acutely aware of all the new abilities that would come with his status.
At this point, he made it a point to separate himself completely from his old life. He took a new name, one befitting a citizen of the wastes, Dave. As soon as he could, he returned to Diamond City and took to the office of a prominent detective, who was known throughout the wastes as Aldous A.
This detective listened intently, and, once Dave had named the location of the raider headquarters, made him an official deputy. The three, Dave, Aldous, and Nick Valentine, the synth detective of the Jewel, took there to end the plans.
Unfortunately, Aldous had underestimated the raiders, and they were outgunned. At the time of the most peril, Dave made a decision. He had sacrificed all his life in the
name of nefarious deeds, and now he would sacrifice his life for the best of them. Charging a room which had been filled with a stockpile of explosives, Dave, the synth raider, initiated a pulse, and blew the camp to pieces. Though he died, his essence lived on, in the exploits of the now revered Aldous A.
~~~~~~~~
Short, and often called the runt by any that knew him, Psyk stands at approximately 5’7” (~1.5 m) and 145 lbs (~66 kg). Before his transformation, his back was branded heavily, and as such appeared mostly puffy and red or pink. After he had been transferred to his second new home, he also received many scars from whips and beatings, which came often.
His face was often described as gaunt, and his cheeks sag slightly. His head is shaved on both sides, with a small, curly fauxhawk on top. Never quite able to grow a full beard, he settled instead for a constant five o’clock shadow. His blue eyes are just slightly too far apart on his face to be deemed normal, though their shade is often described as magnificent.
~~~~~~~~~
Living most of his short life under the yolk of raider masters, Psyk often carried very little as a consequence. For some years, he was never seen apart from a teddy bear, but he was said to have lost that in the battle for the apartments.
His most commonly used weapons were a pipe and a 10mm pistol, which had a common enough round that he could fire it frequently. He named that pistol Lucille, but threw it away, along with his ratty raider attire, after his transformation. After said transformation, he often carried a cigar in his right hand, perhaps to add an air of maturity to his runtish appearance.
~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading my second ever FRP Profile. I am aware that it is a wall of text right now, but I will be updating it soon with screenshots of Psyk/Dave in-game. I haven’t had much time to play recently, if anybody cares for a reason, but I’m on spring break right now so I can get plenty of beautiful screens to pretty this up.
I hope by now that anyone reading these is starting to recognize the obvious connections between my profiles, and that’s what I’m going for here. Perhaps my next profile will be of the mysterious, malevolent doctor that ruins (or improves, depending on the vantage point) many people’s lives.
PCTY Out.
