Machine chief
Group: Survivors
Posts: 37
Member No.: 7
Joined: 22-October 08
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O.O.C. Information
Name:
SolidSilver, or Matt ( Tha admin XD )
Age:
20
Contact Information:
Email - crazygohappy@gmail.com
MSN - matt_potts2@hotmail.com
I.C. Information
Name:
Gavin Owen Harding
Age:
Age 46, born December 13th
Gender:
Male
Nationality:
Born on Earth in the European Union - Great Britain to be exact. As a part of the original Western Coalition and a founding member of the United Earth Coalition the economic, social and environmental state of Britain is much better than many other nations on Earth. Unfortunately, the environment is in a state of decline worldwide and the nations of the industrial giant that is Earth must now look to the colonies for a solution.
Occupation:
Gavin Harding was the Machine chief aboard the DsECV 'Nomad'. He was appointed to this position after D6's last berth at Epsilon 2. This places him in a position of responsibility for not only all of the mechanical equipment on board, but the crew and engineers that operate and maintain them.
Gavin is an incredibly gifted mechanic, and has had his uncanny ability to 'understand' mechanical and electrical problems described as a great asset to the ship and crew by the former captain.
Personality:
Gavin Harding has always been a somewhat hardened character, ever since he joined the merchant navy. At such a young age he was forced to take on serious responsibility and immerse himself in a world of hard men and hard business.
It was a difficult life on a freighter, especially on the old and battered hulk Gavin was dropped on. He spent all of his remaining adolescence and young-adulthood running around after the mechanic, fixing things and doing hard, manual labor.
Despite this, Gavin has not entirely lost his sense of humor. His dry, sarcastic wit often cuts a deep gash in the pride of his subordinates should they fall out of line. However, with Gavin there is no joking when it comes to his job. People rely upon the machines, equipment and personnel on a regular basis, and the failure of any one could mean serious injury or death.
His prolonged exposure to such a stressful environment has provided him with a calm and collected temperament, which in turn has allowed him to keep a relatively level head in the current situation.
When it comes to off-duty hours Gavin is quick to drop into the bar in his mess hall and have a good laugh with the other crew, as well as a good number of beers. He values the company and friendship of those he has come to know well over the years, and can be counted on as a friend when things get tough.
Physical Appearance:
((See avatar and signature))
Gavin Harding is 6'4" tall and weighs around sixteen stone. A lifelong exposure to hard manual labor has lent him a strong and well built physique - even in space under artificial 'G'.
He maintains a closely trimmed black beard around his mouth and nose, keeping the rest of his face clean-shaven. His dark brown hair is kept short, but not necessarily well maintained or clean.
In his profession it's often the case that Gavin ends up acquiring spots and smears of oil and grease on his skin and clothing, and with so much time spent in such a state he doesn't even seem to notice the marks until somebody points them out to him, or he decides to take a shower.
Gavin tends to prefer fitted shirts and trousers that provide little in the way of lose material, which may become caught in machinery. He tends to wear darker colors, simply because they tend to show dirt and grime less.
It also seems to have become a habit for him to wear - almost continuously - his heavy work gloves. These gloves, designed to protect against burns, cuts and crushing, are of almost constant use to the machine chief, and he rarely removes them.
Medical:
Gavin is in surprisingly good health at the present moment, and has suffered no recurring serious or debilitating illnesses or injuries. Despite a good number of tiny pock-marks and scars across his fact, hands and arms from working closely with dangerous equipment, Gavin has no disfigurements.
Perhaps the only item of note is that due to better healthcare, diet and lifestyle, as well as advanced medicine, people tend to age slower and live longer than they did in the 21st century. Hence why Gavin appears to be in his thirties, and is in fact forty six.
Gavin Harding has no cybernetic implants.
History:
Gavin Owen Harding was born to an average, working class family living in the suburbs of a city called Birmingham in the midlands of Great Britain - Earth. He had an average childhood, normal schooling and a generally unremarkable upbringing.
His parents worked at the city spaceport for minimum wage, toiling every hour of the day to earn the money to keep their family alive and comfortable. London remained the capital city - the big home of the big-wigs, but Birmingham had been chosen as the site for the UK's spaceport.
It was one of several large spaceports in Europe, supporting massive industrial, commercial and social traffic. What were effectively slums for the multitude of workers soon emerged around the outskirts of the city, but Gavin's parents worked too long and too hard - they wanted the best life that they could offer for their son.
Gavin finished school at sixteen - the age where an adolescent completed compulsory education. He had studied optional school modules in extra-orbital commerce and development and had shown great promise in his mechanical and electrical engineering studies.
The young Gavin decided to take up an apprenticeship with an inter-stellar trade and haulage company, studying to be a ships mechanic. The money was good, and conditions on board weren't all that much worse than life in the city. As Gavin waved his parents goodbye for the last time, he promised to send them as much money as he could afford - and that he did, for a number of years.
Gavin eventually ended up as an overseer an tutor at the companies orbital shipyard over Mars, running the regular inspection of the frigates and haulers to ensure they were space-worthy and teaching engineers in his free time.
He spent a few years in the position, earning enough to keep himself happy on the colonies and supplement his parent's income enough to allow them to cut down their hours.
Eventually Gavin was headhunted and recruited by the colony officials running the orbital station over Europa 2. With the promise of a position as station's chief mechanic and a bigger paycheck (and easier work) Gavin accepted and left the merchant navy for Europa 2 at age twenty seven.
He worked on the station for almost twenty years as the chief mechanic, before the DsECV 'Nomad' turned up at their doorstep. The 'Nomad' - or 'Deep Six' as Gavin was already calling it - sent a crew envoy to meet with him the day they arrived.
Apparently a 'freak accident' had incapacitated their Machine Chief and he would have to be unloaded at Europa 2. They offered Gavin the position and a massive pay packet to go with it. Gavin jumped at the chance to work as a Deep's Machine Chief - the excitement, the pay, the respect! Heck, it was a perfect opportunity to spice up his life. . .
Clearly, it came with a few 'stings' attached.
Other:
N/A
Roleplay Sample:
It wasn't as if the mag-lift system was unreliable, nor that Gavin didn't believe it was worth the time and money spent on it - he just hated it with a passion. When something went wrong with any one of the numerous magnetic induction lifts that conveyed personnel and equipment up, down and across the ship - well, it really went wrong.
This time it was a cargo lift in section six of the massive cargo bay that contained all of the raw materials and equipment the ship needed to operate at full capacity. Apparently some scientist just had to have his freakin' rock-doctor gear hauled up out of bay six for some astrological survey, and this task had been dumped squarely on the machine chief's shoulders.
"NO! Stop right there Jack!"
"What, boss?"
"Nothing - if you want to drop the cargo-lift on Richard's head!"
"Oh. . ."
"Your damn right oh, boy! Now put down that plasma torch and make yourself busy until he's finished replacing that inductor rail."
"Sorry boss."
"Don't apologize! Just don't do it again. We clear?"
"Yes boss."
Gavin sighed inwardly. It was so hard to get good help these days. Half of his crew seemed fresh out of some school or apprenticeship - as green as he was at sixteen. You couldn't count on the machines, you couldn't count on the personnel. . . what the heck was he supposed to do?
"Chief Harding?" A voice crackled through his intercom.
"Yes doctor?" Gavin snapped back.
"Uhm. . . when am I going to see my equipment?" Gavin could swear he felt the man flinch from the other end of the line.
"When this cursed mag-lift's done entertaining me for the day. Now, if you'll excuse me I have work to do!"
"Ah, okay chief."
Flippin' rock doctors, just don't have a fraggin' clue how things are done in the real world. They should stick to their stones. . . Gavin laughed out loud at his own silent joke. A nearby foreman turned and fixed Gavin with a curious look, before shaking his head and going back to work.
"Forget it." Gavin mumbled to himself, before turning his attention back to the crew and the ever troublesome mag-lift.
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Do you have any idea what you're doing?
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Harding, Gavin Owen, [Machine chief and Engineer]
