Eugene “Doc” Roe has played more Games out of their home World than in it.
Games in home World: 0
Games in other Worlds: 9
They can only play in Games in their home World until that's where the majority of their Games have taken place.
He is 24 years old, and often appears as a slender, clean shaven young man in outdated clothing.
Eugene “Doc” Roe lives in The Dark Tower, a World that is the dying heart of the universe; a nexus of doorways to every conceivable reality.
His journal, Eugene Gilbert Roe, has 16 entries.
Conditions are GM-assigned status effects.
Examples of Conditions include supernatural curses, enchantments, and diseases. Conditions are created by GMs and World leaders and are not subject to any standardized balance. Therefore, their effects may be altered or ignored outside the World where they were obtained. For example, lycanthropy may be contagious in one World, but not another.
Circumstances describe your Contractor's situation in various Worlds.
Enemies, wealth, notoriety, status, contacts, fame, and imprisonment are all examples of potential Circumstances.
Doc sees the situation begin to degrade in slow motion.
Eyes widen. Hands reach for weapons. Mouths tighten against teeth in an ugly grimace. Shouts begin to echo around the room in garbled tongues.
While his body tenses, his soul feels tired. A man of peace cursed to exist in perpetual violence. His eyes linger on a man near him, assault rifle coming to bear against the people he came here with, when he feels power well in his chest between his lungs.
"Stop" Doc says.
The man, moving forward, suddenly stops: his feet rooted in place.
Spend an Action, Exert your Mind, and roll Charisma + Influence6 to Restrict a target within 20 feet. The target may contest this by rolling Mind, Difficulty 6 as a Free Action. Success fixes the target in place at their location, although they still can move their arms, use Powers, etc. Difficulty
The target may attempt to break free by making an attack against their bonds at +1 difficulty. Breaking the binding requires an amount of damage equal to double the initial Outcome. Damage from multiple attacks is cumulative and stacks linearly. Other individuals may also damage the binding by attacking it at +1 difficulty.
Doc reels from the hit and his form fades into nothing.
He opens his eyes to the snowy fields of Bastogne Belgium. The exact moment he left.
He starts to look around but seconds later pops back into existence exactly where he was when he was injured moments ago.
Spend an Action and Exert your Mind to phase yourself out for 3 rounds. You cannot perceive the outside world or take any actions during this time, but nothing can interact with you in any way.
Doc always comes prepared and his mastery of triage is second to none. His Traiteur gifts have evolved to allow him supernatural proficiency to treat patients most doctors need specialized equipment for.
Passive, always in effect.
Doc puts his hands on you and begins to mutter to himself in french. The effect is instant and horrible. You begin to remember all of the sins of your past, all the ways that you've wronged those who loved you. All of the terrible, evil things you've done on these contracts in order to survive. Doc seems to be in the grips of similar memories, tears running down his chin and dripping onto his hands that are pressed tightly against you. At the point where your mind feels like it's about to break, it's over. Just as quickly as it began. You feel your wounds begin to close.
Exert your Mind and spend 1 Minute treating a specific Injury on your patient. Roll Charisma + Medicine10 - 4. Each Success reduces the Injury's Severity by one. If you can reduce its Severity to zero, the wound is fully healed. Otherwise, it is partially healed and stabilized, and it will heal the rest of the way at its natural rate. Difficulty
This Power is only effective on humanoid creatures, and you cannot target yourself.
You cannot target the same Injury more than once.
Doc puts his hands on you and begins to mutter to himself in french. The effect is instant and horrible. You begin to remember all of the sins of your past, all the ways that you've wronged those who loved you. All of the terrible, evil things you've done on these contracts in order to survive. Doc seems to be in the grips of similar memories, tears running down his chin and dripping onto his hands that are pressed tightly against you. At the point where your mind feels like it's about to break, it's over. Just as quickly as it began. You feel the toxins begin to leave your body.
Exert your Mind and spend 15 Minutes treating your patient. During treatment, the malady you are treating does not progress or cause additional damage. You may cure any single disease or poison so long as you have diagnosed it. The disease or poison must be mundane and curable with modern medicine. Must be within Arm's Reach of your target.
As long as you are treating your patient, the progression of the malady you are treating is paused.
Artifacts are GM-created objects and equipment.
Examples of Artifacts include healing potions, scrolls, sci-fi technology, or any supernatural item that was not created with The Contract's Power system. Artifacts are not subject to standardized balance. Therefore, their effects may be altered or ignored outside the World where they were obtained.
I write this journal entry as I sit on a bus headed for New York, New York. I made up my mind and the dreams and nightmares I've been experiencing have been growing stronger. There must be something to this vacant lot and rose. There must also be something to this horrible mansion full of doors. I know they're near each other, but I also know deep down they're not from the same source. The vacant lot and especially the rose fills me with wonder and calm. Like sitting on the lap of God while he reads to you from the bible. The mansion reminds me of Flagg. Horrible, but useful in it's own demented, terrible way. After I arrive, I'll need to start looking for these places.
I've been told that Manhattan is extremely expensive to live in and that I need to find work quickly. And that I might have to take up residence nearby first. Somewhere cheaper. Possibly even New Jersey, but I hope to avoid that. My friend told me before I left that if there was anywhere in the world you could get lost in, and stay lost in, it's Manhattan. There are people there who live on the streets who have no government numbers and go their entire lives hiding in plain sight. I found this remark from my friend strange.
But for now, it's the beginning of a journey. One with no known ending and one that takes place in a brand new world, far from the familiar bayous and avenues that I've known.
I was on my lunch break eating a sandwich that my friend brought me, the one I'd spoken of earlier in regards to Manhattan, along with a brochure she found. Perhaps I remind her of a lost dog or a charity case, because she always seems eager to help when I need it. Reading the brochure with was titled simply 'Manhattan!', I learned of all the many wonders that modern New York had to offer. I had been there once on leave, prior to shipping off to England and what I remembered seems an entirely different city from this. But while I was pondering this, a figure across the street demanded my attention. While wearing a strange black cloak, he nevertheless had the face of the creature I had come to know as Flagg. That creature unmans me, I'm sorry to say. But I can't imagine any who he wouldn't have that affect on. Or perhaps, I simply would never want to meet such a person.
He entered a palm reader's shop across the street from the garage where the ambulance buses are kept and without thinking I dropped the brochure and half eaten sandwich and followed. I'll spare the details of the encounter with that creature as I fear my mind has blocked most of the pertinents. I primarily just remember the disgusting touch of his hands on my palms. But the part I'll include is a letter asking me to escort a man named Bradley via airplane. I agreed and was dumped unceremoniously through a hole in the floor where I fell some ways landing in a concrete parking lot somewhere outside San Francisco.
There, I met two individuals, a poor dullard by the name of Walter who had been dragged through time much as I had six months before. And a modern girl called Amy, whose full name sounded foreign and reminded me of a flower. We met Bradley in a darkened hotel room and discovered he was not a man, but a large dog. We rushed from there to the airport where I learned that modern air travel is a good deal more complicated than it once was. Something about some distant September had made everyone fearful of planes and arabs. It started to appear that Bradley was not a normal dog in the airport but something of a creature that consumed blood and flesh. Luckily Walter was a strong farm boy and seemed to have taken a liking to the dog.
In flight, things became more problematic with Bradley requiring feedings of blood. The girl Amy was bleeding herself into a small cup and feeding it to the dog which seemed to be working at first. Then Walter made the mistake of feeding it his own blood which made the beast go feral. It took the well-intentioned dullards foot off as quickly as a mortar shell and the religious missionaries seated in front of them helped spread hysteria. Luckily I was able to get my belt around Walter's calf as a tourniquet and closed his wound up best as I was able. After that, we had an oriental lady with a sword made of smoke try to kill Bradley, not to say I can blame her. It was when she decided that Amy was also a target worthy of her that I needed to become more fully involved. Then two police men who seemed desperate to control the system via gunfire showed up and needed to be incapacited before their trigger-happiness put more innocents in danger. Bradley ended up killing the oriental woman, for which I blame myself for interfering, but no one else died during that flight.
Upon landing, I was questioned and released by the police who surrounded the plane, but I suppose because I didn't attack anyone, they didn't consider me responsible for the incident. Amy and Walter were not so lucky and they were taken into custody. Bradley was reunited with his owner, new or former, and the police didn't seem at all concerned with him.
I've been thinking about New York lately. Having dreams about it. Manhattan, specifically. I keep dreaming about a vacant lot and a rose. And then I'll have nightmares about a house full of doors that's haunted. I can't go there yet I know. It's not time, but soon. I know that in my bones and know it as well as my face in a mirror. I can't quite explain it. I mentioned these dreams to one of my coworkers, an older black woman who had lived there when she was younger. She brought me a travel pamphlet for Manhattan and said if I keep having dreams about it, I should go visit. I seem like a local to her, with my accent, so she assumes I would probably never move away from here. And before and during the war, she would have been right. I never had any ambitions beyond getting back home to Bayou Chene and being with my family. Marrying some girl I met at church. Working my own piece of land with her and our children. But then the war happened. Then Flagg happened. And now I'm here in a Louisiana I don't recognize, in a time I don't recognize. My home destroyed completely by flooding about a decade after Easy shipped out to England to run drills for the invasion. What they call now D-Day. My family long dead. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren of the people I knew left in their place. People I'm related to by blood, but who I've never met before, who have never met me. And have probably assumed me dead in Belgium many years ago. Assuming they even knew about me at all. Some would say such revelations would make them feel free. Unattached. Free to do what they wanted in life rather than what their limited imaginations from years prior had conjured up. But instead I feel empty and alone. Ungrounded. With nothing left but dreams of Manhattan and a vacant lot, and nightmares of a mansion with too many doors.
5 Victories - 3 Losses
Remaining: 0 Exp. (Earned: 190 - Spent: 190)
Scarped off the floor
Well, his bag was helpful...
A Good Man
Into the Cabinet with you!
Saw it Coming!
Survived the hostage situation