Nicknames: âLotta the young guys around the bar call me Gramps.â
Age: âHow old? You know it's rude to ask an old timer like me their age. But if you really have to know I just had my hundred and twenty fifth birthday a month ago. I'm still spry for my age though!â
Gender: âI better be a man, cant imagine a woman cursed with a mug like mine.â
Sexual Orientation: âOnce upon a time I was quite the ladies man.â
Birth time & place: âI was born in a small log cabin in...oh wait, that's not right. I was born and raised on a tiny farming community in Mars in the year 2447. Good times.â
Residence at the time of contract: âTook me about a hundred years but I finally made my way back home to Mars. Wound up building a home/bar in a cozy little mining town called Elsewhere.â
Family/Friends left behind: âI was born the youngest in a family of five. I'll just say you don't get to be the youngest and live to be my age without having to dig your fair share of graves along the way. Anyways...As for close friends? Yeah, I got my fair share of those. Got more old army buddies then I can think of but I never see them anymore. No, mosta my âfriendsâ these days are just the regulars at my bar who I get along with.
There's this one local girl named Alice who's a regular customer, she's a real sweet young thing really but tough as nails too. But then again you don't grow up in Elsewhere and not get a little blood on your knuckles eventually. But yeah, she's real nice to an old geezer like me-brings me home cooked meals every now an then...and she's just always got that smile, ya know? Anywho I got the girl tendin the bar for me while I'm away, can't think of leavin the old place in better hands.â
Physical Description: âIn a nutshell I look like the definition of Adonis. No, really I do. Honest! Ah, OK, Fine...maybe I've aged a little poorly. But come on! Let's see how you look at my age! But you want a real description do you? Fine...lemme just go get in front of a mirror and-ugh, I look fuckin rough. You want me to describe myself like I'm talking to a blind person? Well...that's weird, but anything to get into space. So here goes.
I guess I'll start with my hair-er, my lack of hair I should say. There's none of it on my head, once that shit started fallen out I was quick to razor blade it all off. Now my wrinkly ass head is exposed for the whole world to see, which is normally the reason you see me wearin a hat or somethin. An speakin of wrinkles, my God. Just look at all of them...Oh yeah, you cant. I mean, I know I was never the most handsome guy, kinda had just a plain ovalish face with no real memorably âuglyâ features-aside from maybe from my permanently crooked nose. But now my face is so wrinkled and old I look like that damn droopy faced dog from the old cartoons, hell my skin even looks like old paper. You know, how it gets all yellowy and smells funky...hope I don't smell funky...
Oh! Anyways. Most of my face is actually hidden behind this big old gray bushy beard that covers the entirety of my cheeks. I just couldn't bring myself to shave it. Another horrible thing about getting old is how you start to shrink, only you don't shrink-you hunch. And I gotta admit I got a slightly noticeable hunch forward goin on-but that's old age for ya. And yeah, I know your thinking âHey hows an old man like this gonna get through space?!â Well stop thinking that! Its called servo technology and its been around for like, I dunno, 2-3 hundred years. Basically in my old age (and while I still had that sweet army medical plan) I got fitted for a mechanical exoskeleton. It doesn't give me super strength or anything crazy but it helps me keep up with the youngins, its real state of the art stuff and without it I hate to admit I'd probably be confined to my home/shop.â
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Area of Expertise: âI hate to toot my own horn you don't spend 80+ plus years as an Army Engineer and not learn a thing or two.â
Secondary Skill: âYou don't want me on the ship for my countless years of experience as an engineer. You want me on the ship because I'm the best damn amateur chef on this side of the Great Red Rocks of Mars! I'm also a half decent shot with my plasma pistol.â
Personality: âWell I'm sure it depends on who you ask. If your asking me I'd say I'm a bit cooky, the type that can take just about any kind of joke without breakin my stride. I like pranks and in general im just a real laid back person. I'm just as happy cuttin the shit with some buddies over a game of cards as I am alone in some awkward angle inside the inner workings of a ship-trying to hunt down that one odd noise in the engine. I like to think of myself as a peoples person, I'm pretty open minded so it takes quite a bit to offend me. I'll admit I can hold a grudge if I feel wronged but I'm never the first to openly start a fight.â
Bio: âHonestly if you ask me my life has been extraordinarily boring. As I'm sure everybody knows the terraforming of Mars had not only been extremely successful but the planet itself had turned out to be a paradise of sorts for all sorts of agricultural. I just so happened to be âluckyâ enough to be born into one of the countless families that continued to farm there, my family in particular grew corn over a couple hundred acres. With the behemoth sized farm equipment we used it only took a small handful of us to run the place. By the time I was eighteen I had about as much as I could handle of the farm life, and with my two brothers somehow crazy enough to stay and run the farm with my father I had no guilt when I enlisted in the armed forces-about the only way people like me ever even hoped to see another planet. I'm glad my brothers could find happiness on that same land we grew up on but me? I'd just always wanted something else, something I still haven't really found.
So I enlisted and after boot camp and a few placement tests I was placed into the Engineer Corps, which turned out to be a perfect fit for me. Turns out all those years constantly maintaining and repairing advanced farm equipment had turned out to be slightly useful. I became complacent pretty quickly in the army. I mean whats there to hate about a paycheck, free meals, a bed, and the occasional glimpse of space-which was totally the best part of the job. So yeah over the years I made a lot of friends, worked on a lot of good ships, and slowly let my bank account build up while I lived off the good ol government.
Eventually they said I was so good at what I did they wanted me to teach the next generation, so somehow I found myself at the esteemed North Star Academy located in one of the sprawling cities on Venus. Most of the kids I wound up teachin were so new to practical mechanics my time was often spent explaining things as simple as the difference between self-sealing stem bolts and reverse-ratcheting routers. It was hell. I missed that silent hum of being on a ship with everything running correctly, sadly the closest I could get to space was a telescope or the cheap imitations in the holo-decks.
So I did that for I don't know how many years until one day the army was just like âHey Gus your so old its time to retire. Like, you don't have a choice anymore.â And I was only a hundred and five! Buncha ingrates. So with a surprisingly fat bank account I retired to one of those small fancy resort moons, you know the âLive out your life in luxury.â type. Was only there two years before all the pampering and old people made me totally hate the place. So off again I went, somehow finding my way back to Mars. Long story short I finally found a town I somewhat liked, settled down, and ran an honest business of getting hard workers shit faced drunk after a long on the job. It's a tough gig but somebodies gotta do it.â
Luxury Items: âCan't leave home without my lucky Kiss the Cook apron...what else here, hm. Well there's Old Betsy, my ancient army pistol-Betsy's a real sleek lookin stub nosed Plasma Pistol. She may be slow to reload on accounta I gotta empty and replace all six plasma cartridges by hand, but she's a fuckin beast when fired. She kinda resembles a massive old world revolver and alotta the army boys like to call her a hand cannon. That's about all this old Geezer can think of honestly...Oh, cant forget my pills either!â
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