it is the year 2280 earth made contact with many different alien species making the desolate space of past into a habitat crawling with different species but all is not well, many different wars were caused by the Xenophobia of earth in their past before they went out themselves to find people you will command a small fireteam to begin but maybe you can advance to command a whole army
Races:
Midors: tall, red aliens with long faces and slender bodies, they are super smart but weak. they have advanced armor technology far but not melee technology which is average (an important part of these wars), their guns are up to snuff but not special (laser weapons with varying levels of power) they live to be 240
they are at war with the humans and help the Fandors
Fandors: almost a brother race to the Midors, they are hooman sized with very broad shoulders and a pig like face, their skin color varies from green, to dark grey. Their melee weapons have incredible strength, their guns are also up to snuff, but their armor can be compared to those of the human barbarian of the past they live to be 160 they are at war with the hoomen and help the Midors
Helghast: they have a completely pale white complexion and are much slimmer then hoomen this is a slave race, under the grateful control of the Humans who they shall die for. Everything about them is average. they usually live to be 40
Humans (Hoomen):the race living on the big blue marble. Their Weapons are much more advanced, but melee is non existent, and have average armor. They live to be 80/90
Malkians: mercenaries, fight for any side that pays they are foot taller than the average human, purple, with long tails their weapons are primitive and they have no melee weapons but they have the most advanced armor
Classes:the list goes with weps and armor primitive/average/advanced depending on the race
Light melee:none/dual laser sabers/plasma Khopesh (sickle sword) with small plasma wrist shield,Superlite alloy armor/S&N light combat armor/Laser charged light alloy armor,small painkiller syringe,field bandages,4 Model 34 incendiary grenade
and you can make your own class
Char sheet
Name: Age: Gender: Race: Class: Side: Human faction, or Fandor-Midor unified nation Squad: 4 (put how what class each squad member is and their names) Weapons: Armor: Misc.: you can make 5 Health: 100/100 Armor: i put Personality: Phy.Desc.: Traits: i make from your personality/or desc. Bio: Perk: i make from bio
"Yeah, yeah," Jello mutters, "you New Yorkers are always tryin' to pick a fight, ain'tcha? Shutcher mouf'." He pulls a cigar from his pocket and is about to light it before changing his mind and tossing it on the ground in one corner of the tent. "Thass' my spot."
Bubba, listening to some music on contraband music-chips (planted in skin next to ear, drowns out most other noise), quietly sits down on the spot Jello pointed at, oblivious to all noise.
"I din't pick a fight wif' New Yorkers," Jello answers, shrugging. "They picked a fight wif' me. For some reason, they jus' don't like people from Chicago. Dunno why." He walks over, pulls his cigar out from under Bubba and looks pointedly at him, unaware that Bubba can't hear him. Rich raises his eyebrows at the antics of his comrades, but otherwise lets it go. He takes a seat in the center of the tent. "Is it okay if I sit here?" he asks quietly, with a faint German accent, but no one hears. Rich shrugs, draws his rifle, and begins to clean it, humming quietly to himself.
Rich, deciding he'd be better off with his own kind, changes his mind and sits down next to Rick. "Yeah? Cha wanna make sumfin of it, den?" Jello asks, glaring down at Jevron(Jello is something like 6'3-6'4). Shorty, standing at something like 5'6-5'7, conveniently decides to take the spot furthest away from Jello and Jevron. He then takes out his medical kit and begins to methodically inventory its contents. Sharp, meanwhile, simply raises his thick eyebrows, lays down, leisurely leaning on one side of the tent(thus claiming that spot for himself), and watches Jello and Jevron with detached interest and barely-suppressed laughter. Taylor decides that as long as no fists fly, he doesn't need to intervene. Yet.
John lays down in bed on other side of Bubba and is fast asleep, acknowledging his lack of people skills would have intervening make the situation tenfold worse.
"Well yeh Chicago fools ain't go'n do nothing to a NEw Yorka..." He says, intentionally loosing up and turning away, fist clenched.
