Outer Divide App

[iwanttosettheworldonfire]

[- OOC Information -]

Name: Siobhan
Do you play any other characters in Outer Divide? Chime, Thero, Kurt

[- Character Information -]

Character Name: Indrani (widely known as the Lone Wanderer)
Fandom: Fallout
OU, AU, or CR AU: OU
Canon Point: After the events of Fallout 3’s Broken Steel epilogue
Journal: iwanttosettheworldonfire 

Character History: Lone Wanderer

Indrani, while a little utilitarian in her outlook, always tried to make the best choice she could for the most people. She traveled widely and aided everyone she could manage, particularly excelling at talking a situation to resolution. She managed to convince such diverse souls as a tribe of repentant cannibals, the crazed overseer of Vault 101, and the sentient supercomputer that called itself President Eden to let their disagreements go without shots needing to be fired (though in the case of the computer she nudged it into initiating its own self-destruct). She also rejected the perimeters of human superiority, embracing ghouls, robots, intelligent supermutants, and so on as ultimately equal. Meaning if they attacked her she made them dead, of course, but that was true of the purest human vault-born, too. She was stubbornly anti-establishment (soured on the proposition by her experiences with the Overseer back home), and she didn’t consider the Brotherhood of Steel appreciably better than the Enclave. She strove to make her father proud and did everything she could to bring about his dream and spit in the Enclave’s eye while she was at it, and she destroyed the FEV virus herself rather than risk it falling into anyone else’s hands. Indrani’s career as the Lone Wanderer was exactly what you’d expect after giving a talented but sheltered teenager with good intentions and poor impulse control a parcel of guns and a quest.

Personality: Indrani’s central drive is the conviction that there’s a right way to accomplish everything, and that she can find it. If there’s a compromise, she’ll find it. If there’s a Gordian knot, she’ll cut it. If she must surrender to calculation and destroy one to save many, she’ll do it, but stew over it for weeks, and if her plan collapses, she’s devastated, her whole world upended. Over time her sense of black and white morality has eroded to see shades of grey and admit the theoretical possibility of failure, but that doesn’t stop her having nightmares about the time she negotiated a band of ghouls’ way into a human settlement for the simple sake of fairness and came back to discover the humans slaughtered. Shotgun therapy didn’t help at all. That was the worst incident in terms of cost (and, pragmatic, scientifically-inclined soul that she is, Indrani doesn’t balk from including lives in calculations, with adjustments based on relative innocence and immediacy of need). She’s not any happier about kidnapping a baby to free the slaves of the Pitt and cure the plague that ravaged them, or leaving Harold alive against his will to bring life back to the Capitol Wasteland, or even that death was the only mercy she could give the prisoners in Vault 87. In a way, those failures hit her harder. At least she settled on what should have been a perfect solution for Tenpenny Towers, and someone else turned it into a disaster.

Indrani’s odd mixture of brazen confidence and naive ethics comes of growing up in the safety of Vault 101 and leaving only at nineteen, when she stepped straight from dim, orderly security into the harsh light of the kill-or-be-killed Wasteland. Though capable of great compassion, she’s ruthlessly brutal when attacked or when she decides (often a tad arbitrarily) that it’s in the interests of the innocent. She instinctively resists any organized control, no matter how theoretically moral or necessary, but she hates being alone and gravitates to father figures. She did that even before her father died; she loved him devotedly, but more gruff, wise approval was always welcome. She see her mess of internal contradictions as anything but, following the assumption that she’s always right. One of her proudest achievements is The Wasteland Survival Guide, assembled in a partnership with Moira over the course of many very poorly-chosen adventures. She refuses to believe that the text is too dense and esoteric to be of any use to most people, and when the cloudcookcoolander wrench wench of Megaton tries to talk sense into you, you’re a lost cause.

The big picture isn’t something she has a good handle on. Indrani loves detailed plots and could be described fairly as deranged when it comes to minutiae and design. While she’s a crack shot with small arms and sneaky enough to pick off most opponents before they know she’s there (lucky, because she’s rather breakable close up), she accomplishes most victories, great and small, by figuring out the workings. She sees people the same way she sees computers and robots and mechanical puzzles and building weapons out of odds and ends. Everything’s a pattern to dissect, and once you’ve got the bits taken apart, you can rebuild it the way you want. She usually directs this philosophy productively, but she does have a few distinct quirks. She collects toys obsessively, though she’ll usually give them away to kids when she meets them. She gives prewar articles in good condition an almost religious respect, carefully delivering books and artifacts to the best keepers she can find, dressing in suits and fedoras when she should have on body armor. She’ll spend hours going through old computer terminals, seeking out rambling diary entries with as much manic energy as she does vitally important codes and first hand accounts of history. She talks to her dog. She lines up old Nuka-Cola bottles in bizarre patterns to keep her hands busy when she doesn’t want to sleep. She’s odd.

Powers/Abilities: In practice, Indrani is more mad engineer than mad scientist, but she has a researcher’s mind. Building gadgets is great, but experiments and data are even better. She can crack any computer, reverse engineer any weapon, piece together any robot (allowing for the dream-logic of her homeworld technology). She’s a hell of a talker, and she can tone down the annoying teenage perkiness if need be. She’s also a crack shot with any small arms and very good at sneaking. And according to Moira, thanks to one of their experiments she’ll grow back a limb if she loses one while suffering severe radiation poisoning, but she’s never quite dared test it.

Possessions: Double-barreled shotgun (40 rounds and a handful of slugs), scoped .44 magnum pistol (20 rounds), lever-action rifle (50 rounds), small toolkit, fedora, cool sunglasses, pinstriped women’s suit, caped leather trenchcoat, black hiking boots, box of sugar bombs, radroach meat, teddy bear, two toy cars, two Nuka-Colas, a hundred and twenty eight bottle caps, Vault 101 jumpsuit, Pip-boy 3000. She also has her friend Dogmeat, an adult male dog of no particular breed, who is very good at biting but not always discerning about what biting will work on. He’s been known to try to defeat robots with his teeth.

Arrival: Shipboard pod


[- Writing Samples -]

Network Sample:
[Delivered over the unforgiving static of Wasteland-quality radio equipment.]

Hey, this is your friendly neighborhood Lone Wanderer checkin’ in! Three Dog let me use the equipment because I’m the prettiest and the best, and also there’s big, big news I wanted to assure everyone was true. Project Purity is go.

That’s right, boys and girls. Thanks to the self-important tin cans of the Brotherhood of Steel--love you, Sarah--and a whole bunch of scientists, including my daddy, plus a little help from yours truly and my dog, all us poor suckers in the Capital Wasteland can have all the clean, pure, rad free water we need. And I mean all, by the way. I see anyone hassle the ghouls and I’ll take your face off with a sawed off before you can say gee golly fuckin’ wilikers. Anyone who’s been thinking about moving into that hole I left in the slaver business? Well, I’m prolly gonna get you anyway, but if you try and pick anyone off in the interval between getting it rolling and having water stations all over, I will feed you to the deathclaws. They’re messy eaters if you haven’t run into them yet. That goes for you Talon folks, too, and any Enclave holdouts. Dogmeat wants a piece of you. Doncha, boy?

[A long howl crackles over the speakers.]

Fawkes, too, but he doesn’t fit in the recording studio so much. Anydangway, stay tuned for your nearest distribution station if you live too far from DC to make the trip up right away. Gonna hand the radio back now before the three dogs in a man suit gets through with the Brahmin steak I went and bribed him with, there.

[“I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Inkspots begins playing.]

Log Sample: Indrani fell into her own, nice bed in the little house in Megaton with a sigh, propping her feet on the headboard and dislodging the teddy bear she’d balanced there. Using her copy of The Wasteland Survival Guide as a pillow, she contemplated the stains on the ceiling for a few moments before she snapped her fingers. “Wadsworth? Be a great robot butler and grab me something from the fridge? And make it not too irradiated if you can. I’m feeling fancy.”

Wadsworth drifted in, murmuring artificially British pleasantries as he presented her with a fresh looking mirelurk egg and a punga fruit to go with her direct-from-project-purity water. And a slab of grown up mirelurk for Dogmeat, who had more tolerance for the crunchy bits. She peeled the soft surface of the egg and bit into the juicy bits within with gusto.

She was just getting to the point where she might relax, read one of the prewar books she hadn’t delivered to the library yet, maybe see if Agatha was playing tonight. Violin music was more restful than Three Dog’s usual hits. But before she could shut down the clangier nerves, she heard a hollar from beneath her window.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Simms.” She pouted to herself a moment. Sheriff was a polite man. If he’d meant to make a social call, he would have knocked on the door. “Whadda yah figure, Dogmeat? Raiders? Probably raiders, right? They have the worst manners. And Fawkes is outta town, of course.” Eh, well. She shoved her feet into her boots and picked up her coat and guns as she went. But the time she reached the door she bristled with weapons and she was smiling again despite herself. She wasn’t good at relaxing, anyway.