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Scalpel wrote:I hope I'm doing this correctly and if I'm not then so sorry. It's two going on three here so I'm a little sleep-deprived at the moment. Please tell me if I've done something wrong. I won't be offended if you're not being offensive. I promise.

This is a fanmade character. I hope that she's acceptable.

Scalpel

Allegiance: Autobot
Sub-group:
Function: Field Medic (can patch people up on the battlefield or keep them from dying long enough to get to someone more qualified)
Alternate Modes: Saturn Sky Red Line with turbo upgrade kit, Silver Graphite/Black paintjob
Weapons: Primary: sniper rifle Secondary: laser scalpel/stun gun
Special Abilities:
Height: 14.5 feet/4.4196 meters

Quote: “If I fight from a distance I don't have to hear and feel everything.”


Strength: 4
Intelligence: 7
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 8
Endurance: 6
Courage: 5
Firepower: 6
Accuracy: 8
Melee: 5
Tech Skill: 9
Charisma: 4
Rank:

Profile: Scalpel would prefer to work quietly as a nurse and occassionally deal with serious cases. That of course is not an option in war and especially not for someone drafted for and trained as a field medic of all professions. She would also much prefer to be aligned with no cause in particular. However with the Decepticons having a policy of "join or die" Scalpel decided she'd much rather be an Autobot by choice than a 'Con by force. The 'Cons would tear a wallflower such as herself apart anyway and the Autobots are more in line with her own morals as they stand.

Some might consider Scalpel's telepathy a gift but it's more of a hindrance than a help. She can't turn the ability off, even in recharge and can often be found in recharge in out of the way places that others don't linger in in an attempt to get some rest. Scalpel can put up mental shields to help block out the mental voices of those around her and can even hold them up in recharge but suddenly waking up because the shields might happen to unexpectedly drop isn't fun. Even still she can sometimes hear the inner thoughts of her fellows although much like being in a loud area with a lot of people speaking at once it can become a background hum. Without her mental shielding she would feel the emotions, aches, and pains of those around her and even with them there are very faint echoes that don't do much more than irritate her. Too much of either will cause her discomfort so she values having distance and space from others.

Scalpel will sometimes answer telepathically instead of vocally and there are those that don't appreciate what they might consider an intrusion. She doesn't do this to offend but speaking to someone directly in such a way is so much more clear than attempting to explain herself aloud. The medic's got few interpersonal skills other than the basics. She can give a report in detail if necessary but as far as shooting the breeze she'd have more difficulty. Unintentionally listening to the thoughts of others is the secondary reason behind her seclusion as well. She'll also give monosyllabic answers to people followed by short sentences before actually having a conversation with those she likes. It's not that she's unfriendly but she's not used to being around people and so is socially awkward.

Humans are interesting to Scalpel if only because they run on electrical impulses just like Cybertronians but are so phsyiologically different from her people. She's had some modifications to allow her to mimic human expressions and sounds. Secretly she's quite proud of these expansions to herself as it makes conversing with the little creatures easier if she ever has to interact with them. She's also just happy that she can control something about herself in turbulent times. Scalpel has a retractable faceplate that she rarely puts away as it, along with the rest of her headpiece is designed to help tamp down on her telepathic abilities. She's built for speed, not strength so she won't be dragging especially heavy comrads off the battlefield. A few reinforced cavities in her legs and arms carry the tools of her trade. In a pinch she could use her laser scalpels and soldering iron as surprise weapons but she wouldn't go out of her way to find out of they could take down another Cybertronian.

Abilities: Telepathy - Limited to actively communicating with four others at once, otherwise she can function as a "radio" without interferance for up to nine people, only functions for up to 300 miles.

Mind reading - Limited to surface scans, and only works if she's concentrating hard on the individual and it works best if they're in the same room. Can be increased if she retracts her faceplate.

Mental Attacks - Limited to a psychic "sound" that stuns everyone around her withing a twenty foot radius but extended concentration on one individual could possibly knock them out.

Mental Defenses - With concentration she can layer a psychic shield on her mind so that she can bear to be around people but without that shielding she can't be around too many people at once because the thoughts overwhelm her and give her a screaming headache and sometimes knock her out. Battles can be a bit of a problem even with the shielding but only if she's in the thick of it so she usually tries to stay away from the frontlines. She can shield others from reading her thoughts and with a lot of concentration (she can't be moving under her own power) she can do the same for others.

Weaknesses: Emotion and thought control aren't some things many people are concerned with so more often than not it's too "loud" for Scalpel to be around large groups of people for too long. Because of this she spends most of her time away from others not. It's not something that she enjoys and battles can be especially tough for her to get through if she hasn't mentally prepared herself for the onslaught of carnage and pain that will be all over the place. She can be incapacitated by the pain of others if her telepathic shields drop or if they weaken without reinforcing. Reinforcing her mental shields must be done religiously every thirty hours, the longest time she's gone without renewing her shields is fourty-eight so although her endurance is average it is denied full usage because her shields fluctuate with the amount of energy she's got to spend on keeping her them up and herself and others alive.

Sample Post

Humans were interesting little creatures; they were very much like her own people in their ambitions and actions and emotions but still different. She could spend hours hidden in plain sight watching their interactions with one another from a distance and then return to base to see similarities among her bretheren. Not that she spent much time around other Cybertronians, the telepathy made that nearly impossible the majority of the time. It was a shame that her ability wasn't more controllable, the minds of those around her could be fascinating and every so often she could focus enough through the pressing masses and hear just that one person's psche. However that wasn't ethical, that was a blatant invasion of privacy and out of respect for her fellows she avoided doing this. That didn't stop her from wishing she could traverse the mental pathways of another - willing - being's mind.

'It would be fun,' she thought, 'to see the inside of another's mind of my own volition. It would be nice to see someone else's thought processes willingly.' Scalpel knew that would never happen and she fully understood why. Thoughts were supposed to be private unless spoken aloud. That's why they remained in one's head unspoken after all. With a faint smile hidden behind her protective faceplate Scalpel continued staring off into the far distance, not seeing anything and content with being lost in her own - her own! - thoughts for once. The spot she'd chosen for her necessary time to herself was what the inhabitants of the planet Earth would have called serene. For the most part it was though the dirt that occasionally drifted into uncomfortable spots was something she disliked.

Currently Scalpel was parked on the side of the road, looking for all the world like an abandoned vehicle. The holomatter projection of a young woman in gray and black clothing had appeared to have walked off and left her expensive ride for all and sundry to take advantage of. Of course if anyone did attempt theft or harm of what they thought was an unintelligent piece of machinary they would quickly find themselves in a "ghost car" and scrambling to get away. A tow truck had attempted to put what was called a boot on one of her tires once. The poor human hadn't appreciated the way a car without a driver had suddenly taken off.

'Honestly though! The Autobots are allies of the humans! You would think that they would recognize the chevron and leave any vehicles marked that way alone.'

Ember wrote:Lets see here...Her height pretty short for the type of vehicle she transforms into. As a matter of fact she's the exact same model and color of my own fanmade. Raise her height slightly and change the color. You haven't mentioned anything about her medical abilities or her weapons and their abilities. Why does she need a sniper rifle...it was never established that she was a sniper.

Her special abilities...telepathy, mental attacks and mental defenses will cost you a copious amount of stat points. In fact all three abilities are simply too powerful for this character. I would recommend that they be eliminated all together so that you can focus more on rounder out the entirety of the character.

She wouldn't need to be "modified" in order to mimic human expressions and sounds since Cypertronians adapt to any situations...which means the abilities would come naturally to all Autobots.

Rework the sample since it doesn't give much background info on the character but instead mostly focuses on the telepathy. Also since she's a medic she probably wouldn't be down planet side observing humans. She'd be much more useful on base leaving the observing to those with that specific ability and function.

And lastly, the name is more 'Con than 'Bot....hence why it was used for the name of a 'Con medic in ROTF. Find something more 'Bot like. Then run everything through a spell and grammar checker.

Foxfire13795 wrote:Blaster

Allegiance: Autobots
Function: Communications
Alt. Mode: Lasonic Old School Style High Performance Portable Music System with Ipod Slot
Weapons: Electro Scrambler Gun
Height: 33ft / 10.07m
Quote: "When the music is rockin, I'm rollin."


Strength: 8
Intelligence: 8
Dexterity: 7
Speed: 2
Endurance: 8
Courage: 9
Firepower: 7
Accuracy: 8
Melee: 8
Tech Skill: 8
Charisma: 10
Rank: 7

Profile: Blaster likes to turn it up loud. That goes for the way he does everything: fighting, talking, playing- living! If Blaster is involved, he makes his presence known. He is in the forefront of any situation. But aside from the things he normally does in the course of being an Autobot, he has a special passion: Rock 'n' Roll. His ability to monitor radio transmissions has exposed him to many Earthen musical styles, all of which he finds interesting. But it is rock music- good, hard and loud- that really sparks his circuits. He'd much rather be lost in the sound of a searing guitar solo than fight Decepticons. However, when called upon he will do what he must for the Autobot cause, albeit reluctantly at times. As Blaster likes to point out, "I hate changing channels in mid-song."

Abilities: Blaster can assume the form of an ipod dock modeled after an old 80's style "boom box." He can send and receive radio signals on all frequencies, and can detect signals with power outputs as weak as a millionth of a watt. His ability to transmit radio signals up to 4000 miles makes him the communications center for the Autobots. In robot form he carries an electro-scrambler gun, which emits powerful waves of electromagnetic energy that disrupt the operations of all but the most heavily shielded electrical devices. In theory, the gun should interfere with the minute electrical impulses of the human nervous system, but Blaster has never used the gun on a human.

Blaster's holo-matter avatar is a (pardon the pun) dead-ringer for "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott. A mid-40's white male, with long, dark, curly hair, a beard, and many tattoos. Blaster simply couldn't resist the homage to a rocker that died before his time.

Weaknesses: Blaster's most obvious weakness is for rock 'n' roll. He will walk unwittingly into a trap for the promise of hearing some new tunes. Radio static has the effect of hampering his operation and even, if strong enough, knocking him out completely.

Sample Post:

"You got the touch!"

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blaster nodded his head as he listened to the song, tapping out the beats with perfect precision. This particular song was an old favorite, a classic. It always put a spark in his circuits. He cranked up the song a few notches louder. The noise would've been deafening to anyone other than Blaster. Load was just how he rocked and rolled and he loved every astrosecond of it.

An incoming transmission interrupted the song, sparking some irritation in Blaster. He considered letting the transmission wait until the song finished playing. Shaking his head, Blaster switched frequencies and honed in on the transmission, pulling up the data for it on the main view screen. It was encrypted in a strange code. It puzzled Blaster for a moment. With a sudden revelation, Blaster snapped two digits and grinned triumphantly. He recognized it as an old encryption. He had assumed that the code had been decommissioned, seeing how it was slaggin’ ancient, but he guessed not. Blaster’s digits danced across the control panel, decrypting the communique. He wondered who in Primus’ name would send a transmission encrypted like this.

With that thought, Blaster slid an actuator over and began to trace the transmission back to its source, using a technique in triangulation. He soon finished both the decryption and the trace. Weird. The transmission was coming from deep space. Fortress Maximus? And incoming Autobot vessel? Anything was possible. His triangulation technique yielded broader answers than Blaster would’ve liked. He knew of the general sector. It seemed to originate around Maximus’ sector though.

Itching to get back to his music, Blaster played the beginning of the decrypted communique. Lo and behold, it was from Fortress Maximus. Something about…a requisition for supplies? Rather than listen to all of it, Blaster forwarded it to the commanding officers that it concerned. With that accomplished, Blaster was finally able to return to the radio frequencies of Earth.

“Finally!”

Or not…

Both Eject and Rewind were stationed at consoles adjacent to their guardian. Eject was doubtlessly listening to some sort of sports broadcast. Jumping up and down in excitement, the cassettebot cheered happily.

“Who’s it this time?” Blaster asked, smiling at his small friend’s antics.

“The Red Sox and the Yankees!”


“Who’re you pullin’ for this time?”

“The Sox! They finally brought out their clutch hitter after waiting until the bases were loaded. I would’ve brought him out sooner, but I-“

Eject paused in mid-sentence, his optics widening. He burst into a tumult of cacophonous cheers and cries of jubilation.

“He just hit a triple! Scrap that, Yankees! YEAH!”

Blaster couldn’t help but grin at the cassettebot’s enthusiasm. Truth be told, he barely understood the concepts of some human sports, but there were a few he had come to grow reasonably acquainted with such as baseball, football (some humans called it soccer), another football, and basketball. Blaster knew enough about to be able to tell that Eject was talking about baseball, but aside from that, he couldn’t tell anyone very much about it.

Blaster left Eject to the broadcast. He tuned back into the humans’ radio broadcasts. With some disappointment, Blaster discovered that his song had ended. Not that he was particularly surprised. He scanned some other stations. Oh yes. A wide grin spread across Blaster’s faceplate as he heard Darrell Abbott’s familiar loud and rockin’ guitar riffs and chords. He began tapping out the melody with a digit. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Autobot_Spark wrote:Crosshatch
Allegiance: Autobots
Function: Scout
Alt. Mode: 1987 El Camino
Weapons: Doulbe-bladed parallel blades on wrists, common RLS gun, shoulder cannon
Height: 25ft/7.6m
Quote: "Stand and fight; otherwise, stay on the ground."


Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Dexterity: 7
Speed: 7
Endurance: 6
Courage: 7
Firepower: 4
Accuracy: 6
Melee: 7
Tech Skill: 3
Charisma: 4
Rank: 3 (intended for her to be a scout)

Profile: Althought she is a young bot who just recently joined the cause, she is known to stick out to her superiors. She is known to be very straightforward and determined. Willing to do anything and everything to improve, Crosshatch has a strong sense of duty and is very self-motivating. Even though she's known to be very focused, when given the time, she can be fun and a little troublesome. When not out scouting the terrain for data purposes, she's out exploring Earth's many bioms. Earth is a fascinating domain to be learned and its' complexities never cease to amaze her. She can also find herself in trouble more often than not. This is because she is also known to be impulsive, a quality thanks to her youth. One thing that really can start a war with her is her past. She doesn't like telling the story and would much rather not get into that state of mind. Her past is her past so leave it at that. If you try and force it out of her, you will find yourself in a provoked fight.

Abilities: She is very quick and very agile. She can reach speeds up to 180mph and is very skilled in hand-to-hand combat. She can locate her positioning, even in the deepest of tunnels or signal scrambling technology, and detect large amounts of energy, but hasn't mastered identifying them yet. However, she can cloak her own signal to be undetectable.

Her holo-matter avatar reflects her significantly, having all her robot-form capabilities. Her holo-matter avatar is a sleek, dark-skinned Native American female who appears to be in her mid-20s. She has long dark hair and always appears in the classical T-Shirt and pants. What type of attire is better for an explorer?

Weaknesses: Impulsiveness, sense of duty and selflessness

Sample Post

Dust flew into the air leaving a distinct trail of speed. The sky and leveled ground blurred together in a flash of light blue and dirt brown for, in fact, that's all that surrounded her. The sun could be seen rising at a slow and gradual rate far above her current location. Crosshatch drove through Death Valley at an alarming rate. Her deep blue, well-chromed, and sleek form of a classical El Camino could be seen from miles away racing past rocks and Joshua trees, headed for an unknown destination.

Crosshatch had been on the road for days now. Four days prior, she had found herself stranded in some unknown location after having crashlanded onto this, what seemed to be, desolate planet. Her entire 96 hours on this rock had proven to be fairly quiet and uneventful. The entire time she had been driving and, thankfully, not walking. Before crash landing she had scanned the image of a car that seemed appealing to the eye and effective for her type of work. She was a scout and, as a matter of fact, she was working at the moment; scouting for some type of other advanced life form of any sort. The only complex organisms that had crossed her path were a few small reptiles and a dead coyote. As she drove farther down this lonely road, she suddenly detected a large energy source.

Focusing on this new reading, she looked into it and pinpointed the source only a few miles ahead. She stepped on the brakes and transformed off to the side of the road, stretching her very worn out gears.

"Ahh, it's been ages since I've gotten the chance to stretch," she told herself after flexing her abused circuts. "Can't stop now. Not when I'm so close."

She glanced down at her handheld scanner and saw a small blinking icon to the right of the screen. She lifted her gaze up to the surrounding mountains and stared off into the distance.

"4 clicks to the South. No road accessible. Looks like I'll have to walk." She took her first step of many towards the energy source, hoping to at least reach it within the next hour or so, according to Earth Standard Time.

As she walked through this excessively dust-ridden terrain, her thoughts and worries took over. What's the energy source? My scanner can't detect that far, especially past those moutains. Will it be in the mountains themselves? Or across them, forcing me to have to climb them? Will it be Earth-caused, Autobot, or Decepticon? It's not like I have many other options. I can either go towards it or perish in this desert. I've been driving for what seems like ages and haven't found anyone. What else can I do? No. This energy source is the only way... Once finally reaching the base of the mountains, she could detect that the source was across the mountains. She looked around and, seeing no other way through them, she began to climb them. 'Climb them' seemed like an over-exaggeration. It was more like 'walk' them. The angle these mountains lied at wasn't very steep so actually 'climbing' wasn't neccessary. Once reaching the top of these mountains, she crouched low to the ground and peered over the ledge. What she saw was something of both a feeling of relief and tragedy: it was a base and from the looks of it, Autobot. She spotted some familiar faces, a few who were bound to recognize her. At last she had made it, that was her relief, but she was almost sad, too. Her adventure was now over and a new one was about to begin as an Autobot living on Earth.

Wreck 'n Rule wrote:Armor Aid

Allegiance: Autobot
Function: Paramedic
Alternate Modes: Cybertronian Armored Medical Transport
Weapons: Laser Pistol, various medical equipment
Height: 32ft/ 9.75m
Quote: “You think you got it tough? Try being a doctor.”


Strength: 8
Intelligence: 7
Dexterity: 6
Speed: 5
Endurance:9
Courage: 7
Firepower: 3
Accuracy: 7
Melee: 6
Tech Skill: 7
Charisma: 5
Rank:

Profile:
For as long as he can remember, Armor Aid has dreamed of being a doctor, to perform miracles and save lives. Since becoming Garrus 9's only medical officer, his dream has turned into a nightmare.

When Armor Aid was first stationed on Garrus 9 he was assigned as a paramedic, to keep any injured mechs safe and stable within his heavily armored alternate mode, and transport them to the medical ward. Once there they would be properly treated by the prison's lone doctor and surgeon, Lancet.

Aside from a number of medical drones, Lancet and Armor Aid were the only medical personel assigned to Garrus 9, and it didn't take long for them to form a bond. Armor Aid looked up to Lancet, and admired the doctor's dedication and strong moral compass. He took it upon himself to protect the smaller, weaker doctor from the often violent patients. Lancet, in turn, saw great potential in Armor Aid, and became the young medic's teacher and mentor. Under Lancet's tutelage Armor Aid expanded his knowledge of Cybertronian medicine. They both dreamed of a day when the war would end and the young protoge would attend medical school, so they could start their own practice together. That day would never come.

One day Lancet confided in Armor Aid- the doctor had long suspected that there was corruption within the prison, and he planned on confronting the warden about it. Though Armor Aid wanted to join his mentor in case anyone tried to stop them, Lancet insisted that he go alone, and left Armor Aid to tend to the medical ward. Less than a cycle later, much to the medic's horror, Lancet was brought to the medical ward in critical condition after pushing an inmate out of the way of a "malfunctioning" automated turret. Though Armor Aid did everything he could to save his mentor, Lancet would become the first patient to die on Armor Aid's watch. Sadly, he would not be the last.

With the death of Lancet and no replacement in the foreseeable future, Armor Aid became Garrus 9's acting Chief Medical Officer. At first Armor Aid thought he would be ready for the challenge thanks to Lancet's teachings, but ultimately he would prove to be ill equipped for the task. Many seemingly routine treatments and standard operations have turned fatal by Armor Aid's inexperienced hands, giving Garrus 9 the worst mortality rate in the entire Autobot penal system.

Armor Aid has repeatedly requested a replacement or additional staff, but with the Autobot Medical Corp stretched thin throughout the galaxy there's no relief in sight. The vorns have taken their toll on Armor Aid. The once young, energetic paramedic with dreams of the future has become a sad, bitter mech, usually found locked in his office with a cy-gar-8 in his mouth, just trying to get through each day as the failure he believes he truly is.


Abilities:

Armor Aid possesses above-average intelligence and has been fully trained as a paramedic, and has recieved additional medical training from his mentor Lancet. He is capable of repairing most minor repairs and replacing standard parts and armor under optimal conditions. Though it gives him great shame, he has become something of an expert on autopsies due to the sheer number he has had to perform since becoming Garrus 9's acting CMO.

Armor Aid transforms into a heavily armored medical transport, designed to carry most Cybertronians under 40 feet tall. While carrying passengers within his alternate mode Armor Aid can monitor the injured mech's vital signs, and provide them with a limited amount of energon to keep them stable. Patients are well protected within Armor Aid's thick armor, which can travel for 600 miles at speeds up to 110 MPH.

In robot mode Armor Aid possesses above average strength and great durability, and may possibly be the most physically imposing medical officer in the Autobot ranks. Armor Aid carries a variety of medical tools and equipment in several different compartments within his armor, and is armed with a standard issue laser pistol.

Appearance

Armor Aid's armor is red with white windshields. His alternate mode is a more heavily armored version of a Cybertronian Ambulance.

When Armor Aid transforms into his robot mode the front hood extends and folds into his legs and feet, the roof of the rear section splits and folds into his arms, and his upper torso spins 180 degrees so the undercarriage makes his chest. His upper body is slightly bulkier than his lower body.

Weaknesses:

Armor Aid is not a fully trained or licensed doctor despite his current position as Garrus 9's chief medical officer. His skills in surgery are limited, as are his knowledge of mechanical viruses and infections, and he is easily frustrated by unexpected complications and side effects caused by his treatments.

As a result of his inability to properly treat so many patients, Armor Aid goes through frequent bouts of depression. This depression has led to an increasing dependence of cy-gar-8s, a newer type of cy-gar that is smaller, but contains 8 times the addictive chemicals and nano-toxins of the original. The longer Armor Aid goes without a cy-gar-8, the more difficult it becomes for him to focus on the task at hand. At times he shows signs of irritability, restlessness, and increasingly uncontrollable shaking. Though he can gain limited control of these symptoms by simulating the motions of using a cy-gar-8, inevitably he will have to find a private area such as his office to satisfy his cravings. So far he has managed to hide this addiction from others, but it is only a matter of time before it completely hinders his ability to function normally.


Sample Post

Armor Aid drooped his head down as he looked at his former patient. Former patient, he reminded himself in disgust, because the inmate was now deceased, as evidenced by the low pitched tone that indicated a complete lack of vital function.

As it was, no one would ever suspect the mess in front of him was a Cybertronian. When the inmate was rushed into the medical ward he was already in terrible shape; his head was practically severed from the rest of his body, hanging by a few threads of wires and mech fluid tubes. Even the most experienced, highly trained medical professionals would have found the situation challenging. So what chance did Armor Aid have?

"Computer, record;", Armor Aid sighed, "Inmate 5473, deceased. Time of death, 0450 hours. Unofficial cause of death, pending autopsy; complete cerebral circuit failure, caused by severe loss of fluids and disconnection from vital circuits."

Slumping down on a nearby stool, Armor Aid took ahold a nearby scalpel. Without even thinking about it he took the scalpel between two of his digits, taping it repeatedly on the medical slab that his patient's corpse lay on.

"- and my own ineptitude.", Armor Aid mumbled to himself as he put the scalpel up to his mouth. He sighed heavily, he needed to be in his office. Now.

"Drone 13;", he addressed a nearby medical drone as he quickly stood up. He started tapping the handle of the scalpel on his own armor, "Pre-prepare the body for an autopsy.", he rushed toward the door of his office, tapping the scalpel faster and faster, "I'll.... I'll be in my office. RIght now!"