= A.K.A. =



Portrayed By Michael Fassbender

Wastelander / Gearhead / Property of the Tsunami Syndicate



6’1” / 189 lbs

German / Irish Descent

Born in New Haven to an engineer and a nurse.



STRength: +8

PERception: +7

ENDurance: +6

CHArisma: +4

INTelligence: +8

AGILity: +6

Luck: +6


3 Advanced Skills (+++)

+ Engineering / Tinkering / Mechanics

+ Hand-to-Hand Combat / Muay Thai / Jujitsu

+ Small Firearms

3 Intermediate Skills (++)

+ Hunting / Trapping

+ Hypersensitivity (Improved Hearing & Reduced Eyesight)

+ Navigation / Tracking

3 Novice Skills (+)

+ Herbs / Medicines

+ Cooking

+ Appraisal


.: DETAILS :.Edit

Dominant Emotion: Caution

Demeanor: Years spent under the banner of the prominent Tsunami Syndicate bandit battallion with nobody to talk to has crafted Sam into a mere figure of the man he once was. Long passed are the wars that demolished the planet and made it what it is now. Sam has grown vacant, almost living solely in his mind. Flashes of horrors he’s seen in years gone by still haunt him as he continues to run from his past… and his fate. A reserved man, Sam is incredibly observant. He hates to be caught off guard and detests surprises. Besides, in this world, you have to prepare for the worst. Sam’s shoulders are slouched, and he moves fluidly-- with very calculated gestures. His piercing eyes can be unsettling if you find yourself under their gaze. Remnants of the things he’s seen still play off his visage. Though his presence is slightly animalistic, he actually has sound world views and perspectives. He could be considered a good man, if that notion still existed anymore.



The stolen gauntlet. Old war tech. Property of the Tsunami Syndicate.


"Boomer" -- Sam's Hand Cannon.


A family heirloom. Antique pocket-watch.

.:HISTORY :.Edit

+ Born and raised in New Haven, WA. East of Seattle, near the Columbia River. Mostly a fishing and trading colony-- working ferries across the river to Canada to create a thriving community. His father, Kaiser Huxley-- a brilliant engineer. The mother-- Talia... a nurse and ex-combat medic from the earlier wars, before she had Sam. Died during child-birth, leaving Sam alone with his father. 

+ He did his best to teach the kid what he needed to know to survive. The mortality rate in this world was practically non-existent, and survivors had to be taught. Apparently others were born. Sam barely made it into this world, and brought down his mother as collateral. He was already hardened. He always would be.

+ When he had come of age, Sam was apprenticed as an engineer and mechanic by his father-- along with their team of workers. Mostly working to keep water power running the city, as well as repairing vehicles for harvesting crops and travel. He was a natural. Picking up things quicker than his father could have ever anticipated. He continued tinkering and working at his own pace from then on-- barely able to keep up with his own creativity. The hard work kept him in an incredible physical state as well-- crafting him into a formidable survivor in the wasteland. He turned 18 a few years later and enlisted in the military. 

+ Though New Haven was small, it was still home. They did what they could to help it thrive and grow, but the surrounding conditions were harsh. Soon they had to venture out further into the wastes. Expeditions were created to search for specific supplies lacking in the city center. Sam and his father were part of a team aimed to collect scrap metal, one of the highest commodities there was during these times. One journey, they are beset upon by a gang of Tsunami Syndicate crusaders-- journeyman and bandits-- treasure hunters and thieves. Killers. Half of the team was killed, the others made into slaves under the banner of the Syndicate.

+ And so they were put to work... once the bandits figured out what they were proficient at. They became nothing but gearheads. Chained to a rolling metal dustball excuse of a civilization. 

+ Years later, Sam's father critically injured himself on a saw and nearly lost half his hand. He was already pushing his 60's by then and even Sam knew the Syndicate would come to the conclusion that there was no use having an extra mouth around to feed... not to mention a slow mechanic. His time was going to come. And Sam knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He watched his father put down like a dog in front of him 8 days later... while he was working.

+ Sam stayed with the Syndicate for another decade, traversing the corners of the country peddling wares and collecting treasured loot-- the closest thing to a mega-violent band of post-apocalyptic gypsy killers you could get these days. Sam had lost his will to fight. He was nothing but a machine himself... a machine building machines, surrounded by machines... that was all he had. And so he worked-- always looking for the opportunity to change his stars.

+ As the years dragged on and Sam worked in their service, he began to become a little hellraiser. He earned the nickname "Kid Calamity" -- for being so rambunctious, and also for his affinity with weapons that go boom. There was chaos in his life and in his work.

+ The next time Sam saw New Haven, it was nothing but ashes and dust. He had been put to work, preparing their weapons and vehicles for an assault he knew they intended on carrying out-- but he was kept back at the caravan city of Mekka. A vast sea of vehicles, retro-fitted platforms, houses stilted on animals' backs and other ingenious riggings. It wasn't until he investigated the battle that he realized where they were... and what had happened. He never saw New Haven again.

+ In the aftermath of the assault, loads of salvaged and pillaged goods poured into Sam's shop where he worked. They called it "the Vault" -- several 16-wheelers attached at the hip and further modded with metal plates and a miniature factory and refinery on the inside-- metal billows screaming from the top as black smoke blows out like a volcano. One of the Syndicate's many mobile factories. It was where Sam spent most of his days, dismantling, repairing, and modding whatever they wanted done that day. The next day, he was sifting through the scrap as normal and came across something he had never seen, covered in wet wires and bent metal strips. It was a gauntlet... made of some odd metal. Very antique-looking-- ornate. What happened next set forth a chain of events that even Sam didn't see coming...

His freedom was at hand...

[ To Be Continued ]