Andrew Conrad

>Be the Robber Baron’s son.
[color=#168a6c]Uncalled for, sir.[/color]
>Fine, be the rail magnate’s son.
[color=#168a6c]Better.[/color]

[IMG]http://img51.imageshack.us/img51/1125/andrewconrad.png[/IMG]

Your name is ANDREW CONRAD, and your father owns a large percentage of the rails in the country. At least, in the North. He refuses to do business in the South due to secession —*he says it goes against his principles or something. You’re not sure what that means; all you know is that he’s apparently no longer on speaking terms with your FAVORITE UNCLE, who’s a Texas cattle rancher. You’re still not sure what happened to your mother, but like hell your Dad’s going to give you a straight answer on that one. Sly old bastard.

You are, of course, THIRTEEN YEARS OLD, having had your birthday on July 4 (why yes, you are just that awesome), and you have to admit that your favorite part about being rich is the MONEY. You get FANCY NEW SUITS, you get to have your PHOTOGRAPH taken on a regular basis, and you even have a HORSE that you ride through the countryside sometimes. You are also flat-out OBSESSED WITH ECONOMICS, or at least you would be if you understood the first thing about it.

As a youngster with access to the best things money can buy, you of course have a COMPUTATIONAL DEVICE, on which you play some games, although they can’t really compare to the adventurous game of pretend-hunting Confederate spies hell-bent on sabotaging your father’s holdings, or playing at being an officer in the Union Army.  You enjoy bothering your chaps around the world with the BOTHERCHAP client, and have come to be good friends with most of them. Most of them. You tend to be upbeat and excitable, and the only real downside is when they call your father a ROBBER BARON. Still, it’s not like you’re thin-skinned enough to let that get in the way of your relationship —*although you have told them to quit it with the RB language several times.

Your GUARDIAN, of course, is your FATHER, who routinely tells you stories about your GRANDFATHER’s courageous fighting in the REVOLUTIONARY WAR. You would have loved to meet him, had he not died in the MEXICAN WAR. You hope one day to grow a MUSTACHE like he had, something AWE-INSPIRING.

Your STRIFE SPECIBUS has been allocated to RIFLEKIND, like any good Northern Army officer. You’re not the best with it, but you don’t really care. It’s fun to pretend. You use a WALLET MODUS that was given to you on your thirteenth birthday, and you absolutely love it.

Your chaphandle is [color=#168a6c]adamantCapitalist[/color], and [color=#168a6c]$There’s nothing you can’t put a price on.[/color] When you actually get around to playing SDRICT, you’ll be the Baron of Bliss in the Land of Transit and Steel. You'll be dreaming on Prospit, of course.