Boilerplate preface (feel free to skip to character description!): This character is another example in the a set of completed characters I’m posting for the Deeps of Lyrae campaign. I made them for my players, or my players made them.
I’ll refer to them later on if I post recaps, and I thought that other GMs might want them–you should be able to just offer them to new players as a menu of pre-made character options that will work well together.
I didn’t do my own templates for this campaign, so these characters are worked up from templates in the list of published templates I posted a little while ago. The character designs I’ll post were also designed in response to my required character creation prompt for this campaign, and they usually take into account my campaign advice for character creation.
To refresh your memory, the prompt is: “Your character is on a boring backwater planet and has a good reason to want to become a space pirate.”
Corporal Anacusis came back from war totally screwed up. He’s a deeply damaged individual. He’s got all kinds of problems, but he’s a good man to know in certain very dangerous situations… chiefly if you have a need for things to explode.
The war took a lot from him: his wife, his fingers. It left him with things he never wanted: the flashbacks, the shakes, his pain, a disgust with killing. Yet the war showed him a way to exist where he feels totally at peace and even in harmony with the world. It’s when he’s slowly swinging his Vladof Heavy ElectroMagnetic Grenade Launcher (H/EMGL) in a wide arc, calmly laying down a curtain of 40mm thermobarics fused for air burst. The blast wave of each explosion pounds against his armor like a drumbeat as everything before him goes up in a nice, clean wall of fire. It’s restful.
“Boom-Boom” is full of contradictions that beg for a psychologist, but he’ll never see one. His “can do” attitude persists even when it has no basis. “I’ll cure myself, no problem,” he thinks. He has a love of explosions so strong it counts as a psychosis, yet he paradoxically hesitates to kill anyone. “No problem,” he thinks. He needs noise around him at all times or he becomes afraid. “No problem.” He has a desperate need for violence, to punch things and make them explode, but he’s a soft touch and always ready to lend a hand. It makes no sense. “No problem,” he’d say.
And to be fair, he does have the skills. War wasn’t good to him, but he re-upped for hitch after hitch. Switching military occupational specialties was something of an extra hobby. He’s done tours in EOD, he’s served with the combat engineers (he was the ace “traps guy,”) he rotated through artillery, but his favorite assignment was always as the heavy weapons grunt of his plain old infantry squad. How did he manage to retain possession of a military-grade heavy weapon and infantry armor? He won’t say. He never rose above corporal so perhaps he’s willing to cut a few corners. Or maybe his demons cut them for him.
For all his tics and phobias, he’s in your corner and you’ll be happy that he’s there. If you’re under fire there is no better sight than his rough features and red goatee, armored goggles pushed up on his shaved head, slotting grenades from his bandolier into the monstrous and well-worn H/EMGL launcher he’s named after himself: “Boom-Boom.” He says, “No problem.”