Application ➸ 3 Step Paradise
Series: Team Fortress 2
Character: RED Sniper
Timeline: Respawning after being burnt to death at Sawmill
Personality: RED Sniper presents himself very much as a professional: as seen in Meet the Sniper, he totes himself as a respectable assassin, one who enjoys his job to the fullest because it is a stable career that caters to his personal tastes and needs in life. He follows three major standards as a sniper: be polite, be efficient, have a plan to kill everyone you meet. While these standards act as a code for him on the job, it's arguable whether he applies them to his personal life or not.
He is seen being polite for the camera in Meet the Sniper; however, his demeanor in his other canon appearances is quite different, making it evident he is not as nice as he'd prefer everyone to believe, as per his standard of politeness. His Meet the Director appearance is anything but nice, even before there is a threat made against his parents. While he argues with his parents about his profession ("Not a 'crazed gunman', Dad, I'm an assassin! Well, the difference bein' one is a job and the other's mental sickness!") and notes that they don't care for it at all, having the Director say his job is nothing more than a shackle placed upon him by Australian society- and calling him a murderer and a deranged psychopath in the same breath- leaves him far more visibly peeved. His politeness extends only so far, after which point he resorts to nervous tics to manage his temper (flicking his bobble head is the one we see in the comic) before finally snapping.
In-game, he's one of the pushier characters as he barks out orders idly, and is one of only three with lines referring to the payload missions. Of those three, he has the most: it's hard to go more than a few seconds without him yelling at his teammates to get to the cart and stop it from moving (or if you're on BLU, to get to the cart and push it). He's very much a back-seat driver: he likes to be in control of the situation, but would rather not be the one responsible for when things go wrong. He's perfectly content to stand in the back and yell at everyone else; after all, it's not his job to be in front, anyway.
And that's one of those aspects of his job he does enjoy: isolation. Sniper isn't much of a team player- he's the only one whose Meet the Team video doesn't show any other teammate, which highlights his lone gunman style. When on the job, he spends most of his time in the back, willing to camp a single spot and wait for that perfect shot, as seen in Meet the Sniper and referred to in domination lines made against him. Patience is a virtue for some; for him, it's a preference.
That isn't to say that he always waits for his prey. Most of his time prior to joining RED was spent in the Outback as a hunter of dangerous game. As a hunter, he's used to the untamed wilds, the thrill of the hunt, and the challenge that comes with being the only one he can rely on for survival. His senses have been honed from years in the bush, making them keener than most. That isn't to say he is without his faults when it comes to said senses: as an expert hunter, he's trained himself to focus on his goal, remaining unsatisfied until he's finished the job and his prey lays dead at his feet (figuratively speaking, of course. At his feet, but five miles away is good enough, too); however, being so focused on his goal leaves him blind to the world around him at times. This leaves him open to Spies and other dangers when doing something that requires his utmost attention, especially sniping- it's a weakness of which he's all too aware.
While one might think he'd like a team in that scenario, given teammates can watch his back, that life isn't for RED Sniper. He finds teammates, camaraderie, and attachment to people only complicate the job. It's easier to focus on his occupation and doing what needs to be done in order to finish the mission successfully if he doesn't have any concern for others in the way. People are a instability in life, as it is, as they can be lost. It's a lot easier to just hide behind his hat and the walls he builds around himself and not deal with feelings, period. He's a professional, and they don't let emotions get in the way, as he claims in Meet the Sniper.
That lack of attachment is another cause for grief with his parents, who are still a major influence on his life. As a dutiful son, there's canon evidence he spends a deal of time keeping his parents abreast of his activities through both phone calls and letters. Despite how aware he is of their judgment on his job, he strives to make them proud regardless; however, he is bitter that they're likely to never be accepting of his choices in life no matter how many headshots he makes or how fine of a marksman he is. They were hoping to be grandparents, that he'd settle down with a respectable job and start a family- it simply doesn't fit his lifestyle, and he's one who cut his own path in life with a kukri in one hand and Jarate in the other.
Even with his parents' scorn, he thinks highly of his abilities to the point of boastful pride. His in-game domination lines are most telling of this: it's clear he lacks a degree of humility as he laughs about the deaths of his opponents and openly mocks them, all while claiming he's the best. This level and feeling of superiority is one of the major factors that drives him- he takes pride in his work and is not ashamed of what he does; however, that same conceit is also causes him to be stubborn and often unyielding when dealing with others. His need for control of any given situation comes back again, as he feels he's one of the more practical members of the team and it is easier for him to play the victor than accept defeat. He's trained himself to be a competitor, to live by survival of the fittest- losing means he's not cut out for it, and that's a blow he'd rather his pride not take.
Background: "In his former life as a tracker of dangerous game in the unforgiving Australian outback, the Sniper would spend months by himself. Prolonged isolation taught him a valuable lesson: You don't have to rely on other people if you never miss."
The above, along his Meet the Team video and a few comic appearances, is all the canon given for this character. The following expanded background is headcanon written around what we know about Sniper from his brief canon history. One important thing to note is that Team Fortress 2 takes place in some alternate 1968 where Australia has become a technological superpower in the world, inventions like invisibility watches and the internet do exist, and two companies- RED (Reliable Excavation Demolition) and BLU (Builders League United)- are in a constant stalemate of a war over some dusty gravel pits in the southwestern United States.
Expanded Background: Born in February of 1929 to Kenneth and Margaret Mundy, Sniper only attended public school until he was thirteen, being pulled from it in favor of helping his family work the farm. Their home- Red House on the Left on Adelaide St., Australia- was fairly isolated from the rest of Australian civilization, which fostered the Sniper's loner nature. From a young age, he knew he had a place in the world and a job to do: he had to help his parents. After all, Mum and Dad weren't getting any younger. That wasn't to say he lacked interaction with people other than his parents- he had a dog named Norman from the tender age of ten, a couple of friends a little older than him who lived a distance off, and a girl he liked that he'd met at school. They were okay as they dated off and on for a couple of years, but he really spent more time with the dog than he ever did with her- or anyone, for that matter- which left her rather frustrated most of the time.
Boy, did he love his dog. The dog didn't need conversation to survive, didn't want for anything but the company of his master. Norman took orders without question, was faithful, and always had Sniper's back. The mutt was the ultimate companion, as far as he was concerned. The two would spend hours outside together, hunting any small wildlife they could find. His interest in shooting was apparent from a young age, but it wasn't until later that he would take it seriously.
He was just past seventeen when a major turning point in his life occurred: they got new neighbors. Despite said neighbors living several miles that-a-way, they were too close for comfort, especially to the young Sniper. Hailing from the busier part of Australia, they all were typical Australians: each member had a thriving moustache, a thirst for beer, and an insatiable lust for fighting. For a time, it seemed they might get along against all odds: their son, who was a year or so younger than Sniper, was a jovial lad. Though he found Sniper to be strange in his lack of muscles and moustache, he accepted him well enough.
That was until he went looking to prove himself as a man, challenging his pal Sniper to some friendly sparring. Of course, friendly sparring when it's one muscle-laden Australian bloke versus the otherwise scrawny Sniper-to-be is more like a curb-stomping. His loyal dog tried to intervene, as any good pet would; he met with an unfortunate end as the younger boy, so engaged in the fight, delivered the animal a powerful blow that broke his neck.
After burying his beloved dog, Sniper was left alone, plagued by his own thoughts. The loss of his dog caused a shift in him. He could have beaten that kid into the ground if he was more of a typical Australian; he could have won and his best mate would still be alive. There was no solace- only a quiet rage that festered in his chest. He'd lost the one being who truly understood him, who never cared about what everyone else thought. It seemed so simple: the darkest part of him wanted vengeance. More importantly, he needed to fight smarter, not harder. He was never going to get anywhere in an all-out brawl; however, he was okay with a gun. If he couldn't fight with his bare hands, he'd fight with a weapon.
And so, he started isolating himself more and more, spending days- then weeks, and finally months- at a time in the bush, honing his skills. He learned to defend himself with a hunting knife, then a kukri; he found his talent for shooting with his father's rifle, eventually moving to sniping his targets from afar with a bow. Years passed, and he continued to distance himself from everyone, including his girl. It came to the point where she finally gave up on them ever having some semblance of a normal relationship. He didn't care anymore, anyway. All he wanted was revenge.
And revenge he got. He'd thought he would challenge his former friend to a fair fight, but what was the point? It hadn't been fair when it was Norman. They were both men, and accident or not, there were consequences to be faced. Seeing his enemy take his dying breaths through the view of his scope, the Sniper smiled genuinely for the first time in what seemed like ages. There was a morbid satisfaction in watching his foe collapse, the vapid expression of his corpse an appropriate match for the hole in his head. He finally realized his true calling.
He was twenty-three when he tried to explain it to his folks. He wasn't crazy or anything, but there was a market for someone with specialized skills like his. It was as simple as that- it was a job, he was good at it, and he enjoyed it. He rationalized both the disturbing nature of the occupation and his dark enjoyment of it with professionalism. His parents weren't thrilled, to say the very least- his father immediately proclaimed that he'd gone mad, that being a crazed gunman wasn't a job. His mother held back, unsure of what to make of the situation as her only son admitted he was going to be a hired hitman- glad to do it, even.
Not that Sniper cared. It was a good job. He was still their dutiful son, but he was also a killer of men. They'd come around, he reasoned, especially once he sent them some of his pay. They tried to change his mind, pressured him to find a more suitable lifestyle than living in the wilds, hunting both man and monster as he saw fit. His father wanted him to stay on the farm, while his mother hoped she'd see him with a skilled trade. In the end it was clear neither of them was getting grandkids anytime soon. Settling down and having a family wasn't on his horizon anymore.
Not that he didn't try again with his girl. He ran into Barbara again at twenty-six: she worked as a tailor, he kept his job under wraps for a while. He stuck around town, and they tried their relationship again, but it was apparent they'd become very different people than the kids they were years before. He found he just didn't have interest in her, as she didn't compare to the feeling he got from the job; she couldn't accept him, his profession, or the fact he murdered in cold blood a man who had considered him a friend over the death of a dog. He was no longer someone she could take home to the folks, someone to settle down and have a life with, and that suited Sniper perfectly fine. It wasn't the kind of life he wanted, anyway.
It was 1959 when he went from freelance to steady work: he was hired by Reliable Excavation Demolition for his expertise in the field. The job: sniping other mercenaries, specifically those working for Builders League United. After a brief assignment at Teufort, he spent four years at Badwater Basin, finally transferring to Sawmill after they refused to remove those headshot warning signs that were such a detriment to his business. The money was good- handy, given that long-distance phone calls three times a week and postage to Australia are expensive- and he was doing something he liked. Even stranger was that he was a part of a team, and while he spent as little time with them as possible, there was a sense of camaraderie that he couldn't deny. It wouldn't last forever, but it was good enough for the time being.
Now if only his parents would warm up to his profession...
Abilities/Additional Notes:
Being a sharpshooter and assassin by trade, he's definitely skilled with his rifle. In TF2, Sniper uses a variety of weapons to get the job done- sometimes a standard sniper rifle, other times a bow and arrow, and even a pneumatic dart gun- and is able to make precise headshots with all of them. RED isn't as skilled with a bow as he is with a gun, but he'll use whatever he can get his hands on.
While close-quarters combat is not Sniper's best area, that's not to say he's terrible with it. He primarily uses a kukri in those situations, attempting to chop his foe to pieces before he winds up dead. When all else fails in a fight, he always has his trust Jarate, a technique he learned from a mail-order course which involves throwing a jar of urine at his opponent, instantly stripping them of their dignity and will to live. Also, it puts out fires. Neato!
His combat abilities aside, Sniper is skilled in tracking, which comes with the territory of being a hunter of dangerous game. He knows how to survive in the wild in harsh conditions, focusing on achieving his goal and not resting until he has. His stamina is fitting of someone who works as a mercenary, though it is notably less than that of some of this teammates. Also, he can knit, and will claim it is a very masculine activity.
Advocate Note: Obligatory nope.avi joke goes here.
Sample Journal Post:
[video]
[As technology really isn't his forte, the video cuts on and off a few times as RED Sniper fiddles with the buttons, the skyline behind him moving with each step he takes. He eyes the device with disinterest, probably not realizing it's on, before coming to a stop. The view turns downward, stopping at belt-level as he sets the 3STP atop something- looks like the top of a crate. He turns from the camera and begins walking in the opposite direction, pulling his bow from his shoulder and idly taking an arrow from the quiver on his back.
When he finally reaches a suitable distance, he is no more than a speck on the horizon. He readies his arrow, turns quickly on one heel, and fires with only a split second of hesitation. The projectile whizzes toward the screen and veers only slightly, clipping the corner of the device and knocking it from its perch. The view through the video feed spins wildly as the 3STP goes skidding across the ground. The spinning slows, then finally ceases as Sniper approaches it, looking at the device with disdain.
Or maybe it's the shot he made that's got him so irritated. He grumbles.]
Argh, piss.
[Stooping, he retrieves the 3STP. After another moment of fumbling with the buttons out of mild curiosity, the feed cuts off.]
Sample RP:
Sniper was a man who made his own rules and lived by them as he saw fit. He went to work each day, performed his job admirably- better than some of the blokes on the team, according to him- and came home expecting to clean his gun, drink some coffee, and go to sleep in preparation for another fine day of sniping. While he liked challenges, he also liked routine; it was for that reason he found someone knocking on his camper door in the night to be completely and utterly obnoxious.
Not just one night, either- it was a recurrence for a several nights in a row, a few times a night at seemingly random intervals. The first was simply unexpected: he wasn't bothered often, as most of the team knew better than to disturb him at his camper. The second time left him a little paranoid- perhaps it was a Spy at their base looking to get the best of them, starting with him. By the fourth and fifth knocks, he knew exactly who the perpetrator was, but simply couldn't catch them in the act.
He snorted irritably as he drove his camper to its usual spot at the base, putting it in park. This night would be different. The knocks always came after dinner, so he started preparations as soon as he arrived. He looked to the sun as it settled low on the horizon. He had about an hour. Plenty of time.
The plan was simple enough: he started with a bucket, which he filled with the shame-imbuing liquid from his stores of Jarate; said bucket was then placed on the roof of his camper, just above the door. Grabbing his rifle, he headed for the roof of the base, finding himself a spot to sit. He made sure he had the appropriate line of sight before checking his watch and settling down, a crate serving as his makeshift seat. The light in his camper served as the bait- now it was a waiting game.
It was twenty minutes, then thirty before his target arrived, right on schedule. As expected, the prankster was the only member of the team fast enough to make a clean getaway: Scout. Sniper readied himself, his finger on the trigger- he took a breath and held it, steadying his gun for the shot.
The boy knocked on the door to the camper once, then took off around the corner of the building; Sniper held his position, the silence around him allowing him to hear the mutters of frustration from the younger man. He didn't like being ignored. Scout returned to the door again, giving it another knock before tearing across the desert sand a second time. Again, he was angry as there was no answer, no one taking to his joke. He knew the camper was empty no more than he knew what was coming next.
The quick-footed runner returned for a third knock, determined to get results this time. From his position on the roof, Sniper's body tensed, his eyes focused through the scope with a burning intensity. He was simply getting Scout back for an irritating prank, but despite that, he took it no less seriously than he would have had he been aiming for the head of a target. He had one chance, and he was going to make it perfect. The ankle-biter had it coming to him.
As Scout raised his hand to rap on the door, the silence was broken by the sound of a gunshot. The bullet grazed the bucket with a metallic ptwang, causing the container to spin slightly before dropping itself and its contents onto the boy below. More satisfying than the pail landing atop his head or the sweet taste of revenge were the cries of disgust that followed Scout all the way back to the base.
The plan had been simple and effective- no need to make it complicated when it didn't need to be. Sniper shouldered his rifle, a dark laugh escaping him. "Thanks for standin' still, wanker."
Character: RED Sniper
Timeline: Respawning after being burnt to death at Sawmill
Personality: RED Sniper presents himself very much as a professional: as seen in Meet the Sniper, he totes himself as a respectable assassin, one who enjoys his job to the fullest because it is a stable career that caters to his personal tastes and needs in life. He follows three major standards as a sniper: be polite, be efficient, have a plan to kill everyone you meet. While these standards act as a code for him on the job, it's arguable whether he applies them to his personal life or not.
He is seen being polite for the camera in Meet the Sniper; however, his demeanor in his other canon appearances is quite different, making it evident he is not as nice as he'd prefer everyone to believe, as per his standard of politeness. His Meet the Director appearance is anything but nice, even before there is a threat made against his parents. While he argues with his parents about his profession ("Not a 'crazed gunman', Dad, I'm an assassin! Well, the difference bein' one is a job and the other's mental sickness!") and notes that they don't care for it at all, having the Director say his job is nothing more than a shackle placed upon him by Australian society- and calling him a murderer and a deranged psychopath in the same breath- leaves him far more visibly peeved. His politeness extends only so far, after which point he resorts to nervous tics to manage his temper (flicking his bobble head is the one we see in the comic) before finally snapping.
In-game, he's one of the pushier characters as he barks out orders idly, and is one of only three with lines referring to the payload missions. Of those three, he has the most: it's hard to go more than a few seconds without him yelling at his teammates to get to the cart and stop it from moving (or if you're on BLU, to get to the cart and push it). He's very much a back-seat driver: he likes to be in control of the situation, but would rather not be the one responsible for when things go wrong. He's perfectly content to stand in the back and yell at everyone else; after all, it's not his job to be in front, anyway.
And that's one of those aspects of his job he does enjoy: isolation. Sniper isn't much of a team player- he's the only one whose Meet the Team video doesn't show any other teammate, which highlights his lone gunman style. When on the job, he spends most of his time in the back, willing to camp a single spot and wait for that perfect shot, as seen in Meet the Sniper and referred to in domination lines made against him. Patience is a virtue for some; for him, it's a preference.
That isn't to say that he always waits for his prey. Most of his time prior to joining RED was spent in the Outback as a hunter of dangerous game. As a hunter, he's used to the untamed wilds, the thrill of the hunt, and the challenge that comes with being the only one he can rely on for survival. His senses have been honed from years in the bush, making them keener than most. That isn't to say he is without his faults when it comes to said senses: as an expert hunter, he's trained himself to focus on his goal, remaining unsatisfied until he's finished the job and his prey lays dead at his feet (figuratively speaking, of course. At his feet, but five miles away is good enough, too); however, being so focused on his goal leaves him blind to the world around him at times. This leaves him open to Spies and other dangers when doing something that requires his utmost attention, especially sniping- it's a weakness of which he's all too aware.
While one might think he'd like a team in that scenario, given teammates can watch his back, that life isn't for RED Sniper. He finds teammates, camaraderie, and attachment to people only complicate the job. It's easier to focus on his occupation and doing what needs to be done in order to finish the mission successfully if he doesn't have any concern for others in the way. People are a instability in life, as it is, as they can be lost. It's a lot easier to just hide behind his hat and the walls he builds around himself and not deal with feelings, period. He's a professional, and they don't let emotions get in the way, as he claims in Meet the Sniper.
That lack of attachment is another cause for grief with his parents, who are still a major influence on his life. As a dutiful son, there's canon evidence he spends a deal of time keeping his parents abreast of his activities through both phone calls and letters. Despite how aware he is of their judgment on his job, he strives to make them proud regardless; however, he is bitter that they're likely to never be accepting of his choices in life no matter how many headshots he makes or how fine of a marksman he is. They were hoping to be grandparents, that he'd settle down with a respectable job and start a family- it simply doesn't fit his lifestyle, and he's one who cut his own path in life with a kukri in one hand and Jarate in the other.
Even with his parents' scorn, he thinks highly of his abilities to the point of boastful pride. His in-game domination lines are most telling of this: it's clear he lacks a degree of humility as he laughs about the deaths of his opponents and openly mocks them, all while claiming he's the best. This level and feeling of superiority is one of the major factors that drives him- he takes pride in his work and is not ashamed of what he does; however, that same conceit is also causes him to be stubborn and often unyielding when dealing with others. His need for control of any given situation comes back again, as he feels he's one of the more practical members of the team and it is easier for him to play the victor than accept defeat. He's trained himself to be a competitor, to live by survival of the fittest- losing means he's not cut out for it, and that's a blow he'd rather his pride not take.
Background: "In his former life as a tracker of dangerous game in the unforgiving Australian outback, the Sniper would spend months by himself. Prolonged isolation taught him a valuable lesson: You don't have to rely on other people if you never miss."
The above, along his Meet the Team video and a few comic appearances, is all the canon given for this character. The following expanded background is headcanon written around what we know about Sniper from his brief canon history. One important thing to note is that Team Fortress 2 takes place in some alternate 1968 where Australia has become a technological superpower in the world, inventions like invisibility watches and the internet do exist, and two companies- RED (Reliable Excavation Demolition) and BLU (Builders League United)- are in a constant stalemate of a war over some dusty gravel pits in the southwestern United States.
Expanded Background: Born in February of 1929 to Kenneth and Margaret Mundy, Sniper only attended public school until he was thirteen, being pulled from it in favor of helping his family work the farm. Their home- Red House on the Left on Adelaide St., Australia- was fairly isolated from the rest of Australian civilization, which fostered the Sniper's loner nature. From a young age, he knew he had a place in the world and a job to do: he had to help his parents. After all, Mum and Dad weren't getting any younger. That wasn't to say he lacked interaction with people other than his parents- he had a dog named Norman from the tender age of ten, a couple of friends a little older than him who lived a distance off, and a girl he liked that he'd met at school. They were okay as they dated off and on for a couple of years, but he really spent more time with the dog than he ever did with her- or anyone, for that matter- which left her rather frustrated most of the time.
Boy, did he love his dog. The dog didn't need conversation to survive, didn't want for anything but the company of his master. Norman took orders without question, was faithful, and always had Sniper's back. The mutt was the ultimate companion, as far as he was concerned. The two would spend hours outside together, hunting any small wildlife they could find. His interest in shooting was apparent from a young age, but it wasn't until later that he would take it seriously.
He was just past seventeen when a major turning point in his life occurred: they got new neighbors. Despite said neighbors living several miles that-a-way, they were too close for comfort, especially to the young Sniper. Hailing from the busier part of Australia, they all were typical Australians: each member had a thriving moustache, a thirst for beer, and an insatiable lust for fighting. For a time, it seemed they might get along against all odds: their son, who was a year or so younger than Sniper, was a jovial lad. Though he found Sniper to be strange in his lack of muscles and moustache, he accepted him well enough.
That was until he went looking to prove himself as a man, challenging his pal Sniper to some friendly sparring. Of course, friendly sparring when it's one muscle-laden Australian bloke versus the otherwise scrawny Sniper-to-be is more like a curb-stomping. His loyal dog tried to intervene, as any good pet would; he met with an unfortunate end as the younger boy, so engaged in the fight, delivered the animal a powerful blow that broke his neck.
After burying his beloved dog, Sniper was left alone, plagued by his own thoughts. The loss of his dog caused a shift in him. He could have beaten that kid into the ground if he was more of a typical Australian; he could have won and his best mate would still be alive. There was no solace- only a quiet rage that festered in his chest. He'd lost the one being who truly understood him, who never cared about what everyone else thought. It seemed so simple: the darkest part of him wanted vengeance. More importantly, he needed to fight smarter, not harder. He was never going to get anywhere in an all-out brawl; however, he was okay with a gun. If he couldn't fight with his bare hands, he'd fight with a weapon.
And so, he started isolating himself more and more, spending days- then weeks, and finally months- at a time in the bush, honing his skills. He learned to defend himself with a hunting knife, then a kukri; he found his talent for shooting with his father's rifle, eventually moving to sniping his targets from afar with a bow. Years passed, and he continued to distance himself from everyone, including his girl. It came to the point where she finally gave up on them ever having some semblance of a normal relationship. He didn't care anymore, anyway. All he wanted was revenge.
And revenge he got. He'd thought he would challenge his former friend to a fair fight, but what was the point? It hadn't been fair when it was Norman. They were both men, and accident or not, there were consequences to be faced. Seeing his enemy take his dying breaths through the view of his scope, the Sniper smiled genuinely for the first time in what seemed like ages. There was a morbid satisfaction in watching his foe collapse, the vapid expression of his corpse an appropriate match for the hole in his head. He finally realized his true calling.
He was twenty-three when he tried to explain it to his folks. He wasn't crazy or anything, but there was a market for someone with specialized skills like his. It was as simple as that- it was a job, he was good at it, and he enjoyed it. He rationalized both the disturbing nature of the occupation and his dark enjoyment of it with professionalism. His parents weren't thrilled, to say the very least- his father immediately proclaimed that he'd gone mad, that being a crazed gunman wasn't a job. His mother held back, unsure of what to make of the situation as her only son admitted he was going to be a hired hitman- glad to do it, even.
Not that Sniper cared. It was a good job. He was still their dutiful son, but he was also a killer of men. They'd come around, he reasoned, especially once he sent them some of his pay. They tried to change his mind, pressured him to find a more suitable lifestyle than living in the wilds, hunting both man and monster as he saw fit. His father wanted him to stay on the farm, while his mother hoped she'd see him with a skilled trade. In the end it was clear neither of them was getting grandkids anytime soon. Settling down and having a family wasn't on his horizon anymore.
Not that he didn't try again with his girl. He ran into Barbara again at twenty-six: she worked as a tailor, he kept his job under wraps for a while. He stuck around town, and they tried their relationship again, but it was apparent they'd become very different people than the kids they were years before. He found he just didn't have interest in her, as she didn't compare to the feeling he got from the job; she couldn't accept him, his profession, or the fact he murdered in cold blood a man who had considered him a friend over the death of a dog. He was no longer someone she could take home to the folks, someone to settle down and have a life with, and that suited Sniper perfectly fine. It wasn't the kind of life he wanted, anyway.
It was 1959 when he went from freelance to steady work: he was hired by Reliable Excavation Demolition for his expertise in the field. The job: sniping other mercenaries, specifically those working for Builders League United. After a brief assignment at Teufort, he spent four years at Badwater Basin, finally transferring to Sawmill after they refused to remove those headshot warning signs that were such a detriment to his business. The money was good- handy, given that long-distance phone calls three times a week and postage to Australia are expensive- and he was doing something he liked. Even stranger was that he was a part of a team, and while he spent as little time with them as possible, there was a sense of camaraderie that he couldn't deny. It wouldn't last forever, but it was good enough for the time being.
Now if only his parents would warm up to his profession...
Abilities/Additional Notes:
Being a sharpshooter and assassin by trade, he's definitely skilled with his rifle. In TF2, Sniper uses a variety of weapons to get the job done- sometimes a standard sniper rifle, other times a bow and arrow, and even a pneumatic dart gun- and is able to make precise headshots with all of them. RED isn't as skilled with a bow as he is with a gun, but he'll use whatever he can get his hands on.
While close-quarters combat is not Sniper's best area, that's not to say he's terrible with it. He primarily uses a kukri in those situations, attempting to chop his foe to pieces before he winds up dead. When all else fails in a fight, he always has his trust Jarate, a technique he learned from a mail-order course which involves throwing a jar of urine at his opponent, instantly stripping them of their dignity and will to live. Also, it puts out fires. Neato!
His combat abilities aside, Sniper is skilled in tracking, which comes with the territory of being a hunter of dangerous game. He knows how to survive in the wild in harsh conditions, focusing on achieving his goal and not resting until he has. His stamina is fitting of someone who works as a mercenary, though it is notably less than that of some of this teammates. Also, he can knit, and will claim it is a very masculine activity.
Advocate Note: Obligatory nope.avi joke goes here.
Sample Journal Post:
[video]
[As technology really isn't his forte, the video cuts on and off a few times as RED Sniper fiddles with the buttons, the skyline behind him moving with each step he takes. He eyes the device with disinterest, probably not realizing it's on, before coming to a stop. The view turns downward, stopping at belt-level as he sets the 3STP atop something- looks like the top of a crate. He turns from the camera and begins walking in the opposite direction, pulling his bow from his shoulder and idly taking an arrow from the quiver on his back.
When he finally reaches a suitable distance, he is no more than a speck on the horizon. He readies his arrow, turns quickly on one heel, and fires with only a split second of hesitation. The projectile whizzes toward the screen and veers only slightly, clipping the corner of the device and knocking it from its perch. The view through the video feed spins wildly as the 3STP goes skidding across the ground. The spinning slows, then finally ceases as Sniper approaches it, looking at the device with disdain.
Or maybe it's the shot he made that's got him so irritated. He grumbles.]
Argh, piss.
[Stooping, he retrieves the 3STP. After another moment of fumbling with the buttons out of mild curiosity, the feed cuts off.]
Sample RP:
Sniper was a man who made his own rules and lived by them as he saw fit. He went to work each day, performed his job admirably- better than some of the blokes on the team, according to him- and came home expecting to clean his gun, drink some coffee, and go to sleep in preparation for another fine day of sniping. While he liked challenges, he also liked routine; it was for that reason he found someone knocking on his camper door in the night to be completely and utterly obnoxious.
Not just one night, either- it was a recurrence for a several nights in a row, a few times a night at seemingly random intervals. The first was simply unexpected: he wasn't bothered often, as most of the team knew better than to disturb him at his camper. The second time left him a little paranoid- perhaps it was a Spy at their base looking to get the best of them, starting with him. By the fourth and fifth knocks, he knew exactly who the perpetrator was, but simply couldn't catch them in the act.
He snorted irritably as he drove his camper to its usual spot at the base, putting it in park. This night would be different. The knocks always came after dinner, so he started preparations as soon as he arrived. He looked to the sun as it settled low on the horizon. He had about an hour. Plenty of time.
The plan was simple enough: he started with a bucket, which he filled with the shame-imbuing liquid from his stores of Jarate; said bucket was then placed on the roof of his camper, just above the door. Grabbing his rifle, he headed for the roof of the base, finding himself a spot to sit. He made sure he had the appropriate line of sight before checking his watch and settling down, a crate serving as his makeshift seat. The light in his camper served as the bait- now it was a waiting game.
It was twenty minutes, then thirty before his target arrived, right on schedule. As expected, the prankster was the only member of the team fast enough to make a clean getaway: Scout. Sniper readied himself, his finger on the trigger- he took a breath and held it, steadying his gun for the shot.
The boy knocked on the door to the camper once, then took off around the corner of the building; Sniper held his position, the silence around him allowing him to hear the mutters of frustration from the younger man. He didn't like being ignored. Scout returned to the door again, giving it another knock before tearing across the desert sand a second time. Again, he was angry as there was no answer, no one taking to his joke. He knew the camper was empty no more than he knew what was coming next.
The quick-footed runner returned for a third knock, determined to get results this time. From his position on the roof, Sniper's body tensed, his eyes focused through the scope with a burning intensity. He was simply getting Scout back for an irritating prank, but despite that, he took it no less seriously than he would have had he been aiming for the head of a target. He had one chance, and he was going to make it perfect. The ankle-biter had it coming to him.
As Scout raised his hand to rap on the door, the silence was broken by the sound of a gunshot. The bullet grazed the bucket with a metallic ptwang, causing the container to spin slightly before dropping itself and its contents onto the boy below. More satisfying than the pail landing atop his head or the sweet taste of revenge were the cries of disgust that followed Scout all the way back to the base.
The plan had been simple and effective- no need to make it complicated when it didn't need to be. Sniper shouldered his rifle, a dark laugh escaping him. "Thanks for standin' still, wanker."