:A man in scrounge biker wear with a weathered face, weary eyes, and a sturdy body
Hot:hard. On a 10+, all 3. On a 7–9, choose 1:
• they do what you want
• they don’t fight back over it
• you don’t have to make an example of one of them
On a miss, someone in your gang makes a dedicated bid to
replace you for alpha
ing thieves-when you have your gang search their pockets
and saddlebags for something, roll+hard. It has to be something
small enough to fit. On a 10+, one of you happens to have just
the thing, or close enough. On a 7–9, one of you happens to have
something pretty close, unless what you’re looking for is hi-tech,
in which case no dice. On a miss, one of you used to have just the
thing, but it turns out that some asswipe stole it from you
Chopper special-If you and another character have sex, they immediately change
their sheet to say Hx+3 with you. they also choose whether to
give you -1 or +1 to your Hx with them, on your sheet
a double barreled sawed off(3-harm close reload messy)
a machete with blood stained on it(3-harm hand messy)
a fast and reliable chopper that looks roaring and muscular but is a gas guzzler
15 mobile, well disciplined violent bastards with bikes in bad shape that need constant maintenance
How I survived
“I don’t remember much about my youngest years, I blame that on brain damage and bad memory, but what I can tell you is that I’ve learned two truths that can’t be denied in my years spent on the open road, it’s that there is always a bad side to every good thing in this world.
Everything from protecting yourself to getting a meal to eat, to shaking down some unlucky fella on the side of the road, it always leaves someone cheated, and you are either the one getting cheated, or the one doing the cheating. I’m not a bad man, I simply decided early on I wasn’t going to let anyone cheat me and get away with it.
The second truth is there is no such thing as true brotherhood anymore except for the guy covering your back. I rode with a lot of different people in my early years: nice guys running long cons on anyone that would buy their sob stories, warlords who only cared for drinking and looting, and mercenaries who would sell their own families for a shiny bauble found in a pile of rubble.
It ended up being the last one that would come back to haunt me, guy gave me some of these scars, though only some, before he ran off, he left half our crew to die in some hellhole, I can’t believe I used to look up to him… I took what was left of us, took charge, drove out of that hole and never looked back."