Author's note: Well, back at it again with a new SYOC story, haha. After playing FO4 and getting over the awe that blinded me, I was not too happy at how... Kinda lazy and a little uninteresting the story line was? It sometimes did not make sense (like what was the real reason BoS destroyed the Railroad, besides hating synths when their main threat was the Institute?). I didn't like how they handled some stuff (like the arguably weak and "unimportant" faction: the Minutemen. I literal finished the main storyline without them, and I swear I forgot about them until I passed by Preston or read it the quest log book). So this story appeared, with it's own faction. It'll somewhat be like the NCR, but it'll be more... Less corrupted. I'm counting on the experiment being made up of "important" figure roles to be preserved (at least that's my reasoning). Nora and Nate were lawyers and a soldier, so surely they were needed? But that part was not explored well, especially with Nora being a lawyer. But there were a few instances where Nate was mentioned he was in the army, but that's about it. Their past lives held no significance and I'm disappointed Besthda did not take more advantage of this. I'm guessing it's mostly due to lazy writing, but I wanna take this and take it to the next level. Actual doctors with degrees, teachers and etc will be vital in this story since it'll mostly be world building.

When asked how she felt when the bombs fell, well it was like any other day. She got up, brushed her teeth and took her shower, and had just finished breakfast and coffee when the news on her TV she got not too long ago, said the following message: "The bombs fell."

She didn't remember running, or when she grabbed her bag and forgetting to put on her shoes and ran towards the hills. The blares of horns all but white noise and the cuts on her feet nothing but a minor inconvenience. It wasn't until she stepped on the cold platform did she realize where she was.

She was one of the few lucky ones to have made it to the vault just before the bombs had obliterated Sanctuary. And one of the people to have been accepted to gain entrance by Vault-Tec. And maybe one of the only people to know what was going to happen.

You see, this was a game for her. Not in an egotistical sense, but literal. All the people around her, were nothing but pixels and written AI. Or the fact this body wasn't hers at all.

Sure it was of Native American ethnicity, female and aged 18 (now 22) but it was all wrong. Her hair was not pitched black and slightly curly, her hair was brown and straight. She wore thick glasses after damaging them, exhausting them by reading in the dark. Now she no longer needed them. It didn't help when she instinctively pushed up her glasses, only to not find the familiar metal.

Now you're wondering, how did she survive on her own? Well, Capitalism wasn't as bad as Before since she was in what was basically in the 50's and the economy didn't screw everyone over.

But it was like the 50's, even when it was 2077. Racism still alive and degrading as ever. But not enough that she couldn't get a job.

Working at this world's version of McDonalds, allowed her to financially support herself and still managed to use money what was leftover to binge. It also helped that she was this neighbourhood's local mechanic, paying her a good amount to fix little things and do projects for them on the side (she was also a carpenter).

She built a small vault underneath her house, the money she saved up over the years really paid off. She filled it with imperishables, bottle caps (that she excessively bought that given her the reputation as a Nuka-addict), purified water, tools, shoes built for the harsh outdoors- all in various sizes, clothes zip locked and stuffed away in case there were any moths managing to get in, weapons that she could buy without garnering any suspicion and other stuff she hope wouldn't rust over time. Hell, she bought series of comics and any books she managed to get her grubby little hands on. All of it locked tightly with a passcode that she only knew. Only her and a person she hired from the city knew of her little vault's existence. So she morbidly hoped the person never survived the atomic bombs or came back as a non-feral ghoul.

She was glad she learned to be a carpenter and had muscle memory of being a mechanic (this world's body dropped out of school and went into that trade, which she was very thankful for).

Now, being in the vault was a huge gamble. The threat of her cryogenic pod malfunctioning was a huge risk, seeing that she remembered the faulty wiring. But if she died... Well she wouldn't know wouldn't she?

"Please take your designated Vault suit, Miss...?"

"Just call me Leanne." Her lips pulled in a small, empty smile. "There's no one who shares my last name anyway... And I prefer not to look in the past, now that I'm here."

Sympathy showed in the other's eyes as they nodded in understanding. They had access to her last already anyway. They handed her the blue suit, striped with yellow, the number 111 also in bright yellow, proudly etched on the back.

"Place your belongings in the tube, mark it down as yours and you will recieve your items shortly. We just want to make sure nothing... Unsavoury comes through. And please see the Doctor to get your feet treated before doing anything else further. We don't want to get them infected." Leanne nodded and placed her bag in the tube, wrote down her name and walked towards to the screen door to dress into her suit.

Leanne knew she wouldn't see her bag for years to come, and hoped someone nosy would find the note she placed in it in case the pods malfunctioned. Finally zipping up the vault suit, she couldn't help but note how comfortable it was. The leather material was durable, it wasn't stiff and it hugged her body features well enough. She stretched, testing for any limitation of movements and found none. Satisfied with the work, Leanne quietly left the screen door, careful to not look at anyone in the eye as she went to to go sit at a chair and waited for the doctor. A few moments later, after explaining she ran without her shoes and messed her feet in the process, she had it cleaned and bandaged.

"Now, follow me. You will need to go into the decontamination pod before passing through. It's standard procedure, don't worry. Every other vault has it and it's been tested thoroughly. Just step right in and we'll get back to you in a few minutes." Leanne nodded mutely, and stepped into the icy prison that will decide her fate. She shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift seat, as the door began to close. Her mind raced, heart pounding erratically as it closed tightly. Closing her eyes, she felt the little pod began to cool.

Will she live or will she die? She was no stranger to death, seeing as she died and her soul somehow snatching the body she now inhabited. But the thought of dying again was... Terrifying. Would she come back again? Would the process repeat? Or would she die permanently?

Questions like these kept her up at night, when she realized where she was and what was bound to happen. But even if she survived and was introduced to the wastelands... Wouldn't it be better that she died?

But before she could continue her thought process, the coldness seeped into her skin as the temperature dipped even further at a fast pace. Her mind thankfully slowed and she became sluggish and exhausted- and she knew no more.

That was, until she opened her eyes and everything turned upside down and inside out.

It was like her mind was in a fog, drowned in molasses as the pod on her door opened and she fell through. She managed to catch herself from face planting, but her knees reminded her how hard she fallen and she stared blankly at the metal floor.

Her whole body felt like it was hit by a bus. Her ears had dulled, sounds from the automated voice felt like it was miles awhile as she slumped forward and laid on the ground.

She had no energy, hunger gnawing at her stomach and the dryness of her throat begged her for a zip of water. But she couldn't bring herself to move, as she stared at other pods opening like she watching them from a screen in a dark room. Some were more coherent than others, already standing and stumbling about, confused just as her when they looked at their surroundings. The vault had clearly not been kept up to date. Cobwebs and dust covered the exterior, the rust forming overtime and crumbling from neglect.

It was like they were in a horror sci-if movie.

"But not too far from that genre, in all actuality." She mumbled to the floor, the exhaustion wearing off as she blinked erratically. She stretched from the ground, groaning in discomfort at how stiff the ground was.

"Of course it's fucking stiff, it's made of metal." Slowly, but surely, she got up from the ground even when her body bitched at her from doing so. Now standing up, she stretched and let out a loud yawn. She rubbed her face and paused at the frost sticking to her skin. Staring at it incredulously, it dawned on her she nearly died of hyperthermia. After coming to the realization, she trembled violently from the cold suddenly washing over her. Her teeth chattered as she furiously rubbed her arms, clutched at her chest at the same time restricting some of her movement, but she had to stay awake. Gritting her teeth, she began to walk away from the pod, ignoring the others who laid eerily still as she stepped over them like objects in her way.

She had to get warm, she had to get out of this freezer and find something to warm her up. Or at least get out of the room- she was repeating herself. More determined, she trudged through the still bodies and shouldering others who in her way, but standing and staring off into space.

"Fucking move and get warm, asshole." She bit out, moving pass the person with the same clothes- oh that's right. She was in a vault. Vault 111, an experimental vault that made human Popsicles because Vault-Tec were a bunch of assholes. Why they did what they did, she did not know. She didn't read up about the lore too much before getting- oh yeah. She's dead and now not dead. Not like a zombie, no, but somehow much worse. She was a body stealer, this wasn't hers, but she would give it up if she could because why would she be in this hellish post-apocalyptic nuclear war? Bombs fell, the world went to shit and now she was here in hell. Oh right, this was a game.

Leanne was really hungry and thirsty.

"My vault!" She shouted in shock, coming to a halt. The frost that slowed her mind, was now clearing up. Memories came back, the password, her stuff, the caps and the-

"They read the note! They fucking read my note! Those nosy bastards actually read my note!" Leanne cackled, whopping in glee as she skipped down the hallway. She spanned and skipped like a clumsy, drunk ballerina, relishing the feeling of being awake! She didn't die! But she was dead at the same time! But now was not the time for philosophical questions, she was fucking alive and kicking!

"Fuck the Institute! Fuck Father! I cheated the system! Fallout 4 ain't got nothing on me-"

"How do you know Fallout 4?" Maybe she should've kept her mouth shut.

RULES

-No Mary/Gary sues/stus

-Put FF: character's name. So I'll know you read the rules!

-Be diverse!

-The more interesting g the character is, the more I'm most likely to accept!

-No first come first serve, I pick!

- Main OCs are only lintited to one person each, but SIDE OCs can be an indefinite amount!

-PM me the finished form, reviews will be ignored!

OC or SI form!

Full name:

Nickname(s):

Origins:

- Fallout native: You've lived through the bombs! Congratulations, you are either a ghoul, synth or just plain human (although that is up to debate)! You are used to the radiation or are immune to it, so you'll won't get as sick as easily. Growing up in the wastelands have toughen you up considerably, you're well versed with many kinds of weapons! Unfortunately, many of your friends and family of yours are dead, and radiation has left some effects left to be desired. You did not grow up with much education or hard training, so you're the Jack of All trades! Unfortunate, this means you are not an expert in certain subjects.

- Human Popsicle: You did not experience the harsh reality of the aftermath of the bombs! Congratulations, you are know more prone to radiation sickness but are healthier than all throughout the wastelands! But thanks to the excess amounts of free education, your are able to be well versed in many subjects! But unless you're in the army, your combat skills are basically non-existent.

- Vault Dweller: Your ancestors have managed to gain entry in the faults and have bred, leading to you being born! Congratulations, you have mostly lived a sheltered life but at least you are less than prone to radiation sickness! You are less adapt in combat, so the variety of skills you have is quite minimal, compared to being a Fallout native. But fortunately, thanks to G.O.A.T you are well versed in a subject! A master, even. But not as much as the people who have body snatched or were put on ice, since they had a richer education.

Is Body-Snatching the same thing as reincarnation?: You have either kicked the bucket or were mysteriously plopped into another world! Congradulations, the gods or whatever put you here, hate you enough to put you through hell! But thankfully, for the doubled amount of education, you are more well-versed and are able to be a master of a certain subject even if you are a "Fallout native". But alas, body dysphoria is a thing. Your body isnt your body after all.

Reincarnation doesn't exist, I haven't even died!: -Yet! Congratulations, you have no added skills! But that doesn't make you any less special! You won't have the added baggage of losing all your friends and family and your identity!

Age:

Race: (synth, super mutant, ghoul, etc)

Gender:

Ethnicity & Nationality

Sexuality:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Hobbies:

Quirks/Habits: (biting nails, cracking fingers, etc)

Fear(s):

History: (before the bombs or post-apocalypse)

Religion: (and tell me how religious they are)

Any secrets?: (optional)

Past affiliation to any factions or currently in one?:

Hair colour & style: (no outlandish colours, unless dyed. If somehow dyed, tell original hair colour)

Eye colour & shape:

Skin & body shape:

Other: (scars, tattoos, blemishes, burns, moles, birth marks, piercings, etc)

Any physical/mental disabilities/disorders? And how much does it effect your OC's overall "usefulness"?: (amputated, depression, asthma, bipolar disorder, etc) OPTIONAL

Skills: (please note the Origins! You can't be a doctor if you're a "Fallout native"! But little things like cooking and knitting can apply to anyone!)

Clothes: (this isn't really important since you can't really find a cashmere sweater without it in ruins or taken already. This is mostly a preference or what you're already worn.)

Weapon of choice(s):

Inventory: (what they're most likely to carry with them on hand or when they have to travel.)

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OC

What type of person can they develop a romantic relationship with?:

What type of person can they get a along with?: (friendship)

What type of person they don't get along with?:

How are they around-

- Friends?:

- Family? (If they're alive):

- Strangers?:

- Allies?:

- Enemies?:

- Rivals?:

- Significant Other?:

How do they feel around-

-Non-feral ghouls?:

-Human-like Synths?:

-"Friendly" Supermutants?:

-The Brotherhood of Steel?:

-The Railroad?:

-The institute?:

-The Minutemen?:

-Raiders?:

How do you want to be introduced?;

Plot point/quest/story line: (You can add anything in here, within reason of course. It can surround your character, like a character arc or the group. You can fuck things up or get closure for your OC and/or the group. It depends how sadistic you are lmao)

Quote(s):

Anything I missed or you wanted to add?:

NEEDED POSITIONS FROM "HUMAN POPSICLES"

-Physicians

-Soldier (ranks can vary)

-Teachers (preferably elementary, no one needs to know algebra when it has no uses)

-Construction workers/Mason/Carpenter

-Law enforcers

-Mechanics

-Engineers

-Ambassadors

-Farmers

-Salesmen (aka traders)

-Scientist

-Blacksmith