Your Post-Apocalyptic Badass Look

Let's face it, kiddies: Whenever some sort of worldwide disaster occurs in fiction, you can be sure that the main characters will gain, at minimum, four levels in badass. Naturally, this often involves a wardrobe change as well. So what's yours?

Two rules to keep in mind:

• Make sure to include what sort of apocalypse it was (zombie invasion, aliens, post-World War III, etc.)
• Don't go overboard in the description; you're not filing a police report. Just the major stuff (including any cool weapons).

I'll get started:

APOCALYPSE TYPE: Similar to the events of Rifts, but a lot more supernatural/mythological creatures than aliens. About 20-35 years ago (the exact date has been lost), "leaks" occurred, and creatures from various mythologies (as well as Gary Gygax) began surfacing. Things really went downhill after only about 2 years.

Major features:

• Badass Longcoat, obviously.
• Black fedora.
• A sword (picture a jet-black spatha), hand-forged from a mixture of Thunderbolt Iron and silver^note Isn't it interesting how people's skills at building stuff in these situations?. Collapsible like Sulu's, and carried on a special holster inside the coat.
• A pair of Colt revolvers, with both normal and special ammo.
• A couple scars from a demon's claws decorate the left side of my face, barely missing my eye.
• A chain of monster skulls is slung on my body like a bandolier (primarily "minor-league" threats).

For transport, I rely on a black hearse that got "upgraded" with armor plating. I'm not a bounty hunter or mercenary; I'm just tryin' to survive day-to-day.

edited 11th Sep '13 6:31:28 PM by RedneckRocker

Embroiled in slave rebellion, I escaped crucifixion simply by declaring 'I am Vito', everyone else apparently being called 'Spartacus'.

To be host, i don't care what apocalypse it'd be, I'd just run around in the same way I'm walking the streets in real life. Combat boots, knickerbockers, some obscure crust band shirt, hoodie, occasionally wearing a beret.

Fear the cinnamon sugar swirl. By the Gods, fear it, Laurence.

Hmm. Sweet idea!

The Apocalypse: The global economy has collapsed leading to widespread rioting, looting and chaos.

We're fairly safe in our little community a few km outside a main city as we've banded together to pool our resources but we've had to "tool up" due to sporadic raids from gangs that want our food (not such a bad thing as every bunch that turns up contributes to our supplies of weapons and ammunition...)

Needless to say, we all go about openly armed and ready to protect ourselves and our community assets (screw concealed carry, we want to know that the people standing next to us are ready to rock).

The Look: Basic black - motorcycle boots, jeans, T-shirt, sleeveless vest and fingerless "tactical" gloves with rigid knuckle protectors, broad-brimmed Stockman's hat, custom tactical thigh rig (Fobus holster attached to SERPA thigh platform)^note Yes, it can be done, I use it for my airsoft skirmishing

The Ride: 600cc single-cylinder trail bike, old battered but still serviceable, at some stage has been roughly repainted using black spray cans.

The Tools: Walther P99 in the thigh rig, AK-47 with two mags coupled together slung over my shoulder with a three-point sling.

edited 11th Sep '13 1:27:30 PM by Wolf1066

Apocalypse Type: Aliens have invaded and conquered Earth.

Major features:

• A black hoodie.
• Bow with a quiver to hold my arrows (including my Trick Arrows).
• An assault rifle and two pistols.
• Cool Shades.
• A Jayne hat
• A laser rife stolen from an alien soldier.
• A katana, a kukri, and a bowie knife.
• Detpacks.
• A personal cloaking device that fits on my belt.
• The aliens' Token Good Teammate who's pulled a Heel–Face Turn and is now my Lancer.

edited 12th Sep '13 2:25:08 PM by IchigoMontoya

APOCALYPSE TYPE: World War 3 followed by the zombie invasion

Major features:

• Buzz cut
• Milky eyes and scratches all over my body
• Two pistols
• A 22 with a scope
• a tight workout shirt
• worn jeans with holes in the knees and missing the part of the back ends
• Robot buddy named Walter
• sunglasses

edited 11th Sep '13 6:41:59 PM by Philosopher

It comes. The corrupter comes. Don't let it touch the tower lest all reality crumble.

Apocalypse type:

Pinky and the Brain successfully took over the world.

My look, my style, my hey-hey:

• Pair of rainbow tie-dye Crocs™
• Bowl cut
• Teal sweatsuit
• Protective beanie◊
• Double wielding wiffle bat and wrapping paper tube
• Pocket stash of mint Life-Savers (the hard kind, not the gummies)
• Bluetooth headset

edited 11th Sep '13 6:52:33 PM by MobileLeprechaun

make it through this year if it kills you yet | 2001-2019

Apocalypse Type: The Global Economy Collapsed, that soon followed by World War 3, that was followed by an alien invasion. Said aliens then got bit by a random zombie, and... Yeah.

My Look:

Beach Hat, torn up

Eyepatch covering up a scarred left eye

Blue Highlights in my hair

Bandage on my nose

Torn up black shirt

Red Sweatpants, torn up as well

Spiked frying pan

Pool Cue

A shotgun

Just floating around...

The Scene:The world is a Post-Cyberpunk future, even greater crime levels (and a tougher police force to match but still "hilariously" underfunded and understaffed), greater division between the haves and have nots, wider-spread slum areas, more gang-controlled casinos, drug kitchens and unregistered brothels hidden behind the facades of suburbia...

The Clothes: Black combat boots, Flecktarn or black trousers, studded leather belt with heavy pewter-and-enamel buckle depicting a wolf or wolves (I have seven to choose from), black t-shirt with white lettering "I may be an OLD FART but PARTS of me are NEW", Olive Drab sleevless tactical vest with lots of pockets, fingerless glove with metal studs on the knuckles on right hand, battered-looking broad-brimmed hat.

The Bad-Ass: Around 45-50, long dark hair (with a few errant grey hairs) tied back in a pony-tail, spade-beard with a lot more grey hairs, cheeks and throat seldom without a day-or-two's worth of stubble, gut is definitely noticeable, right eye has a black sclera and red iris (it's my third and, so far, best - at least it doesn't have visible scanning lines, crappy resolution or cause headaches during the rain), Celtic spiral-form tattoos on right arm, left arm is mechanical - older, more basic model (not the best model money can buy, just the best the insurance company was prepared to pay for), only barely cybernetic (the feedback is enough to keep track of it without looking but the sense of touch is rudimentary, can scarcely tell glass from corduroy), plastic casing has been crudely patched (in some places, with duct tape), at one stage spray-painted matt grey (fresh gouges reveal the off-white base colour), left hand is newer (the punk didn't need it anymore) and made of black metal, chrome studs have been riveted to the knuckles.

The Tools: .357SIG Semiautomatic Pistol - no external controls (slide release, magazine catch, safety or even trigger), fully encrypted wireless remote link to user providing automatically range-adjusted targeting via virtual cross-hair and bringing all mechanical functions of the pistol under control of the machine-neural interface.

Second pistol identical to the first - because fuck changing mags, that's why!

Apocalypse Type: Hostile alien invasion

Clothing:

• Black pants with multiple pockets

• Dark grey t-shirt with a monochrome unicorn decal (because unicorns are cool)

• Black leather longcoat with a hood

• Protective mask

• Black backpack

• Black sneakers

Weapons: Two long steel swords (named "Falchion" and "Tyrfing") used to cut flesh, a pitchfork (named "Vladimir") used for stabbing and long-range attacks, a steel axe (named "Libra") used for cutting into hard surfaces, and an emergency handgun (named "Paul") used for shooting. Also skilled with any pipe she comes across, and can fight hand-to-hand in dire situations.

Appearance/Personality: A young lady who has shaved her head to increase aerodynamics and to avoid incidents with long hair and has acquired a tattoo on her left arm reading "cho ogata"("colossal") , Landorkus has made use of her love of destruction by killing any hostile alien she meets. She has become even less sensitive over the years, and smiles eerily as she slices her foes.

(Agender. They/Them pronouns.)