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Server time: 2018-07-21, 10:08 WE ARE RECRUITING


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About Rizci

  • Birthday 03/15/1996
  1. The Dark Tower is undoubtedly my favorite book series of all time, beating Lord of the Rings. I've always played a Roland-esque character in DayZ RP, until recently where I'm more of a Mad Max's Max type of guy.
  2. *While writing down information on the folk he'd met yesterday, John hears his radio spring to life behind him. After hearing the individuals short but sweet speech, John turns to grab the radio. After hearing a response, he holds the transmitter down and speaks.* "Good for us. Mind reclaiming everything else?" *John turns lets go the transmitter and tosses the radio behind him, onto the bed. He has other nonsense to worry about.*
  3. If you could Read the last paragraph again, that would be great Interesting concept OP! Thank you! I noticed most people currently playing are one of four archetypes: Bandit, Nice Guy/Pacifist, Military Dude or Crazy Guy. I wanted my archetype to be "Working Man." Honestly, the idea came to me after reading Glen Cook's Garret, P.I. series of books. I thought the idea of a wisecracking, sarcasm filled guy who works and does nothing for anyone but himself would be a very interesting way to play RP. I hope I can help out folks in the wasteland that is Chernarus, without getting killed in the process that is...
  4. Food will do. Or other resources. I'm pretty much set against military gear and weapons, I think right now I'm carrying a pistol with two rounds in it (against what I said in the OP but zombies are zombies) and brass knuckles.
  5. I ran into a few people... One of them was mute and the other, I suspect, killed a few people and acted as if he didn't... Found a lot of clothing with gear inside...
  6. Ah! That'd be very interesting. The reason that John is even in Chernarus is because of some shady deal with a shady official back in the states, he got contracted to find my last character, Franklin. Frank, however, is still (in my head) running amok in Chernarus, helping little old ladies and what-not. John just wants to keep on living like he used to. Hope we come across each other some time!
  7. Thank you! I hope for it to go well myself. I'm running about mostly on S2, atm. Can't stand the high ping on S1.
  8. You find this crumpled flier taped and nailed to lamps, buildings and vehicles. [For more information on my character, read here.]
  9. Walked into a british dude miming a Russian accent; Within minutes we were robbed. After that, a group of military men came and helped us. I didn't understand how to put across the fact that my character was sick, so I kept saying, "I don't feel very good." He finally asked if I was sick and he helped me. Never learned what his username was, and his character was named Vlad-somethingorother. This was back in the mod days. In DayZ SA, my first real roleplay experience is when I ran into a guy named Ashe in the north-east. Within moments of meeting, we were robbed by a guy with what I now realize was an empty shotgun. We exchanged pleasantries (Ashe and I, that is) and we went off to find his wife. After that, we grouped up with about four others and moved across the south. Was a fun time. Don't worry about your first experience--It'll probably be bad. Your first 'real' experience is when you walk into those gems that will be with you forever. Remember that!
  10. Very interesting. I have a character who will also be stationed near Vybor, looking for work as a fledgling private investigator in a land without rule. He can't cope with the fact that he isn't going home, so instead of being depressed about it he'll just keep doing his job--along with a few zombie killings and run ins with bandits. Hopefully I can meet you! Seems very authentic and new ideas on how to RP is very refreshing.
  11. Thank you! That's exactly what I was going for. Hopefully the character wipes happen soon, can't wait to play this guy.
  12. In the twenty-some-odd years I’ve lived, I’ve never seen hell quite so similar to that which runs rampant here in Chernarus. To me, life goes on, but I know others don’t feel the same. They don’t understand why these things happen, and they never will. Those people died first. Johnathon C. Holmes, twenty eight. Private investigator based in Syracuse, New York. Atleast, I was based there. My life has always had its twists and turns, and after receiving a job that could put me well into early retirement, deadheads had to ruin it all. Woe is the life of John. I can’t completely complain. My life back before all this wasn’t too great, either. I had a severe habit of not working unless it was to make ends meet—an awful habit, don’t be like me, kids—and a severe liking of bread-in-a-can, without the bread parts and most of the wheat and barley parts… I like beer, okay. Sue me. Anyway, these habits could get you into big, big, BIG trouble with the wrong folk. I was indebted to less than savory people back in the states. Life was pretty shitty. That was, until I got a phone call that fateful evening. I have some of it on tape, back then I always recorded my clients phone calls in case the job went sour/they had other motives in mind and I didn’t wanna go to prison, but it’s missing the beginning few moments… Here, I’ll play it for you. “—es, Mr. Holmes, I’m calling as a request of your services.” “Uh, huh. And what exactly are you requesting me to do, Mister, uh… Didn’t catch your name…” “Call me Saints.” “Alrighty, Mr. Saints.” ~sounds of notebook opening and phone being readjusted. “Continue.” “Just Saints, thank you. Ahem, anyway, I’m requesting your service for a job that requires you to leave the states for a while, possibly up to six months.” ~~Dead air for a few moments. “Six months?” “I’m willing to pay five hundred thousand, now, as a retainer and twice that once you return home.” ~~Dead air, again, for a moment. The sounds of eyes bulging might be heard. “What do you need me to do, Mr. Saints?” “There’s a small country in Eastern Europe called Chernarus… You know of this place, yes?” “Yeah, I think… Geography wasn’t my best class, back in school.” “Quite… Anyway, a man from the states called James Franklin Hall from Philadelphia ran from federal police to the country… With its political issues currently, Hall is quite safe there, mostly due to the feds not caring about some psychopathic murderer leaving the—” “Wait, wait…”~~sounds of scribbling and hasty writing~~“Explain. Who is this guy?” “Do you remember hearing a story a few months back, about the murders in Philly?” “Uh… Honestly, if it isn’t personal or work related I don’t remember much, sorry.” “Well, there was a string of murders in Philadelphia that went unsolved for weeks. They all had one thing in common: Gangsters and thugs were being murdered in their crackhouses and money laundering businesses. The only thing the police had to connect them was the appearance of a masked individual, wearing a smiling ‘Comedy’ mask like the ones you see at a theatre.” “Y’know, I vaguely recall hearing about that… Was through work, however. Don’t remember it on T.V. or anything.” “You wouldn’t. The feds and the Philadelphia P.D. didn’t want people to know there was a masked madman loose in their city. They linked some of the victims to a man named Thomas Hall, whom most of the P.D. figure he was indebted to them.” “I know that feeling.” “Not like this. They murdered him in cold blood in front of his brother James, who’d just returned from military service. Experts are unsure but they surmise that James went into a rage filled spree and killed multiple people. They’ve identified possibly two separate murderers—one who wore the theatre mask, the other who wore a hockey mask. They aren’t sure if they’re the same person or not, but DNA evidence suggested that James was the one in the Comedy mask, and so an APB was made for his arrest. Within twenty-four hours of the APB, Hall killed the final arm of the Philadephia based gangs and left the country.” ~~Sounds of writing in the background~~ “Alright, so where do I come in? Listen, I’m only in it for the money, one and a half million dollars can make any man cry, even a man like myself.” “Understandably. I’m hiring you to seek this man out and subdue him in any way possible and bring him back to the states. My branch of work would be very pleased with you, Mr. Holmes.” “I’m not a murderer, Saints. I’m an investigator, not a hitman for hire.” “Then don’t kill him. Knock him out, break his bones, whatever you need to do. From your record, it seems you’re okay with breaking bones, as long as you get results. Is that true?” ~~Dead air~~ “Deal. When do I start?” “I’ll be faxing you your tickets in a moment, Mr. Holmes. More information is coming your way.” ~~barely audible sigh is heard before the tape is ejected~~ And so, I’m here still. I never found James Hall… I heard he’d changed his name and was fighting the dead, helping folk. I never really cared after finding out I couldn’t get home. He’d have to share the same hell I would. I never really thought about why I was asked to find the guy, it wasn't like I was a big named investigator... It might have been because of my semi-legit status, and the fact that I wasn't widely known. Or, Saints knew I'd take the cash and was willing to ask a complete no-name over a billion dollar sniper team. I'll never know. Now I’m based in Vybor, waiting for work to come my way. I’ll do whatever you want as long as I get paid. As you heard, I don’t kill folk for cash, don’t mention it. I’m also not a kidnapper, another fun favorite of mine. Hitmen, kidnappers, diddlers and slavers all share the same afterlife—I just help them on their way with a few broken bones and maybe a ruptured spleen. Who knows?
  13. Rizci

    A happy experiment

    Very interesting! Always thought about doing something like this, but didn't want to do it because of persistence wipes. Feels like a waste of my time, even though I'm already wasting it...
  14. Rizci

    Eddy Beck's Story

    Loved meeting you in-game as Quinn, Roach. Will be fun to meet this character as well! Was known as Cyrus Artanyen last time I met you, along with the married couple Ashe and Carter.
  15. Rizci

    Long Range radio conversation

    I sat back in my recliner--'my' being a loose word here. It wasn't really mine, more of a loan from a neighboring home in Vybor. And it really wasn't my house, either. I just decided to take it off some folks hands when the former owners were dying to get out of it... Bad joke, I know.I don't have much to think about these days, other than "How long will I go without food," or "Is the private investigation business really worth continuing in this wasteland?" To whet my curiosity, I turned the radios volume up and kept it close as the sun started to fall.