Shh Rachel, you’re not even in the Alliance
So I drew this gal again! She was made by my roommate, but she is super fun to draw. :))))
She’s got bags under her eyes and a grudge on her shoulders as she leaves the debriefing of the Torfan mission. Awake for over two days, Shepard wants nothing more than to catch a few hours of shuteye before she heads out on her next mission. She’s all too aware of the eyes of her fellow marines on her as she walks down the halls - word always did travel fast - but she does her best to ignore them. She’s successful until one of them calls her “the butcher of Torfan,” loud and damning.
Shepard acts before she thinks, running on anger and frustration, she punches him square in the jaw. Soon enough it’s an all out brawl in the halls, marines are shouting around them and it’s only a matter of time before some of their superiors show up. Her knuckles are bloody, her nose is broken, her lip is split, but he’s worse off. She heard his arm dislocate and he’s got a black eye, soon to have a matching pair.
But then he plays dirty, pulls out a knife, cuts her right over the chest, once, twice, almost a third time when someone pulls him off her. She takes the chance to get one last strike, pulls back her arm and punches him, satisfied when she sees his nose break, then there are arms pulling her away too.
They want to call her a butcher, then she’ll give them a real reason to.
Another day. Another fight. Another broken nose.
“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”
Custom 30 Day Challenge
Day 3: Paragon or Renegade?
Oh man, I LIVE for the renegade choices. My first playthrough ever was an almost solid renegade playthrough.
The way I see it, Shep is really nice to her crew/friends/acquaintances/etc but everyone else is fair game for her renegade wrath.
Custom 30 Day Challenge
Day 1: Male or Female Shepard?
Femshep all the way baby!
She was 15; scrappy, scrawny, and with a spirit that could swallow the city. Shepard had fought her way through life, taking whatever she could, however she could. That’s how she ended up with the Reds—not because she wanted to, but because she had to. Everyone has to eat somehow, and they were her meal ticket. They gave her jobs and she did them. Pickpocketing, shoplifting, assault, murder, anything that would get her a place to rest and food to eat. It didn’t matter how many times her nose was broken, how many bruises she got, how many black eyes she sported, because she was surviving. Shepard is a survivor.
She had counted down the days until she turned 18, immediately signing up with the Alliance and leaving the Reds in the dust. Good riddance. But she was grateful for the skills that life had given her because she passed the physical tests with ease. It was the discipline she had trouble with; all the orders and rules. Things had been different with the Reds, sure there was someone in charge, but that could change if someone was brave enough—or stupid enough—to challenge the leader. A lot of her reports said the same thing “unruly” “unwilling to cooperate” “disobeys orders.” But for all of that, Shepard kept going because she had to make it. Shepard is a survivor.
She was on her first real mission at 22, the weight of the gun familiar in her hands, the armor foreign on her back, and her nerves so wired she was sure her team members could hear her heartbeat. Th-thud. Th-thud. It was a quiet mission until the end, and then all hell broke loose. There was firing from every direction and in an adrenaline haze, she couldn’t tell who was friend and who was foe. So she shot, and she heard a yell. She saw her victim fall, saw the life leave his body. But she didn’t have time to mourn or feel regret. She had to move on. Shepard is a a survivor.
She was 29 and a commander now; a leader with her own ship and her own crew. It felt like ages since she had been a part of the Reds, but the scars on her skin reminded her when she forgot. It was difficult to be a leader, she had learned that the hard way. There were always difficult calls to be made, and she was the one to make them. Ruthless calculus; that was what she had to live by, it was all she knew. For every person that fell another one survived. That’s what Shepard kept telling herself. Shepard is a survivor.
They tell you not to think about the people you’ve killed, and Shepard learned long ago to follow that. She put every death in the back of her mind. But she remembers them. Not all of them, but there are those who have clung to her over the years that she just can’t seem to shake. They were all young or hesitant, and Shepard lies awake some nights thinking of their friends, their families. She wonders how many curse her, the revered “Commander Shepard, Hero of the Galaxy.” How many parents, children, brothers, sisters, lovers, and friends has she taken away? How many of them were just like she was when she was with the Reds—just doing what it took to survive? She thinks of how easily it could have been her in their shoes. Shepard hates being a survivor.
The Earthmen know they can’t fail. It is in them like blood beating in their veins. They cannot fail. They will repel each invasion, no matter how well organized. -Ray Bradbury, The Illustrated Man
Game Typography Challenge | Day 1: Use one of either a sans serif font or a serif font.