Decent eats are as rare as fuel and virgins on Planet Motherfucker, so there's little more precious to the famished wasteland warrior than Farmer Vincent Smith's famed meaty cuisine. Vincent and his trusty sister, Ida, make the freshest, tastiest, and healthiest rations around from anything that flies, crawls, or swims...as the saying goes, "It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent Fritters!"
What no one knows, though, is that the Farmer Vincent's secret ingredient is human flesh...but given the amazing taste, would anyone really truly care...?
—
Farmer Vincent Smith
Seasoned (20 XP)
Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d8, Spirit d8, Strength d6, Vigor d6
Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d8, Spirit d8, Strength d6, Vigor d6
Skills: Driving d6, Fighting d6, Healing d6, Knowledge (All Things Meat) d10, Notice d6, Persuasion d8, Shooting d6
Derived: Charisma 2, Pace 6, Parry 5, Toughness 6 (1)
Hindrances: Code Of Honor (Country Gentleman), Delusional (Everything Is Edible), Vow (Sacred Calling)
Edges: Berserk, Charismatic, Luck
Gear: Chainsaw (2d6+4), Winchester Rifle (range: 24 / 48 / 96, damage: 2d8, RoF 1, AP 2), Overalls (as Leather Armor, +1 Armor), Severed Pig Head (as Pot Helmet, +3 Armor, +50% versus Headshot), Farming Implements (as Toolkit), Assorted Jerkies (as Trail Rations, x5)
Kindly, cordial, and just plum polite, Farmer Vincent stands in stark contrast to the sleazy lowlifes that infest Planet Motherfucker. Vincent's an avatar of long-forgotten hospitality, wholesomeness, and self-reliance, and it's his God-granted duty to keep Murica as clean and healthy as possible...
...by butchering every scumbag, pervert, and freakjob that crosses his path, and turning them into nutritious vittles for the few decent folks left. Cannibalism doesn't phase him in the slightest, as he takes his ol' Granny Smith's adage to heart: "Meat's meat, and a man's gotta eat!"
Farmer Vincent is so pleasant and charming, his insane crusade almost seems sensible. The true depths of his batshititude only shine when some nosy or disrespectful hooligan gets his dander up...and that's when the severed-swine-head-helmet and chainsaw come out with a vengeance.
The roadways and terrain surrounding Farmer Vincent's compound (the rustic "Motel Hello") are littered with vehicle-wrecking boobytraps, so he harvests plenty of human roadkill. And any unsavory visitors to his abode get drugged and/or bludgeoned into submission...
...then have their vocal chords slit...
...then get buried alive neck-deep for a few weeks of "tenderizing" in the rich earth and their own filth...
...then get lynched via tractor-pull when ready for "harvesting"...
...and finally get uprooted for rendering in the slaughterhouse.
Kindly, cordial, and just plum polite, Farmer Vincent stands in stark contrast to the sleazy lowlifes that infest Planet Motherfucker. Vincent's an avatar of long-forgotten hospitality, wholesomeness, and self-reliance, and it's his God-granted duty to keep Murica as clean and healthy as possible...
...by butchering every scumbag, pervert, and freakjob that crosses his path, and turning them into nutritious vittles for the few decent folks left. Cannibalism doesn't phase him in the slightest, as he takes his ol' Granny Smith's adage to heart: "Meat's meat, and a man's gotta eat!"
Farmer Vincent is so pleasant and charming, his insane crusade almost seems sensible. The true depths of his batshititude only shine when some nosy or disrespectful hooligan gets his dander up...and that's when the severed-swine-head-helmet and chainsaw come out with a vengeance.
The roadways and terrain surrounding Farmer Vincent's compound (the rustic "Motel Hello") are littered with vehicle-wrecking boobytraps, so he harvests plenty of human roadkill. And any unsavory visitors to his abode get drugged and/or bludgeoned into submission...
...then have their vocal chords slit...
...then get buried alive neck-deep for a few weeks of "tenderizing" in the rich earth and their own filth...
...then get lynched via tractor-pull when ready for "harvesting"...
...and finally get uprooted for rendering in the slaughterhouse.
Wealthy by Planet Motherfucker standards (due to both his shrewd business acumen, and victims' loot), Vincent has a working pick-up and tractor, and a stockpile of weapons, gear, auto parts, and gasoline. He eschews Planet Motherfucker's standard currencies, and opts for toilet paper and lemonade instead of beer, because alcohol is for degenerates.
And Vincent's deepest, darkest secret (beyond being a mass-murdering long-pig mogul, that is)...? Despite all vehement claims to the contrary, he uses...preservatives!!!
—
Ida Smith
Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d4, Spirit d6, Strength d8, Vigor d8
Skills: Fighting d8, Intimidation d6, Knowledge (Farming/Ranching) d6, Shooting d4, Stealth d6, Taunt d6
Derived: Charisma 0, Pace 6, Parry 6, Toughness 8 (1)
Hindrances: Bloodthirsty, Loyal, Stubborn
Edges: Brawny, Nerves Of Steel
Gear: Battle Axe (Str +d8), Overalls (as Leather Armor, Armor +1), Crowbar, Hammer, Handcuffs (x5), Rope (10', x5), Shovel
In stark contrast to her beloved older brother and his lofty, noble notions, the gluttonous, rough-and-tumble Ida is slyly sadistic and mean-spirited...seriously, that gal loves to scare, maim, and kill, and Vincent struggles to keep her indulgences in check. That said, she's a devoted caretaker once her "livestock" is procured and planted.
Ida frequently wears Vincent's pig head without permission, much to his consternation.
In stark contrast to her beloved older brother and his lofty, noble notions, the gluttonous, rough-and-tumble Ida is slyly sadistic and mean-spirited...seriously, that gal loves to scare, maim, and kill, and Vincent struggles to keep her indulgences in check. That said, she's a devoted caretaker once her "livestock" is procured and planted.
Ida frequently wears Vincent's pig head without permission, much to his consternation.
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