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Description
Either way, it was inspried by this picture i saw of Bioshock's Big Daddy...I played Bio-shock 2 the other day. It was crap...Probably should've played the original one first...Hmm...Oh well...

Standing at 3.5 metres tall (About...11.2 foot?), Radiation Minners and their Uranium-powered suits operate in the most dangerous of conditions, Ocean floors, Inside Live volcanos, unstable mines, miles bellow the Earth's crust...Minning away for scrap of Uranium, Plutonium...And whatever else they can find that makes a geiger Muller-tube tick. The Suit is protected by seven inches of Lead, lead-chainmail is inter-woven into the fabric that make up the joints for the suit. The Suit is driving by a miniature Uranium Reactor Core in the back. it powers all of the suit's systems: Oxygen scrubbing, external lights, Exoskeleton...And, thanks to the radioactive half-life of twenty years, the suits never have to be refueled for the duration of their factory-recommended lifespans. The Suits are generally considered invulnerable to most weapons. But sadly, all this protection only serves to making the sense of clustrophobia stronger, many Radiation-Minner Pilots going mad and killing themselves long before they can get their pay. Those that do survive, enjoy hefty cheques and massive bonuses, most of which is eaten up by massive medical bills for treatment to alleviate and cure things like: Radiation Poisoning, the bends brought on from working in high-pressure zones deep inside the innards of the earth and at the bottom of the sea. But, with such a high-turnover rate, there is always a job opening for those whom are down on their luck. The exoskeleton for the suit enables it to lift in excess of one hundred tonnes with ease, the downside is, its clunky, slowly, cumbersome...Totally useless for a fast-paced battlefield where Anti-tank weapons can spell doom to even this armoured sonofabitch, meaning that they are generally never seen upon the battlefield unless an army simply cannot afford better.

Of those Rad-miners whom remain sain enough not to commit scuicude, they often develop and unhealthy attachment to their suits, thinking them to be an extension of their own body. These "Jockeys" are crazed individuals and are best avoided. They are nearly impossible to part from their rad-suits. But, due to the fact that they consider their Rad-suit to be an extension of their own bodies, they are the very best pilots for the suits, even those cumbersome pincers that take the place of the left-hand can be a deft and nimble tool, and those rock-saws can become as accurate as the tools and instruments of a master surgeon.

So, if you're short on your dough, don't want to live long, sign up help make weapons of nuclear war.

It's a dark, lonely, cramped life for a Rad-minner.

Description
Either way, it was inspried by this picture i saw of Bioshock's Big Daddy...I played Bio-shock 2 the other day. It was crap...Probably should've played the original one first...Hmm...Oh well...

Standing at 3.5 metres tall (About...11.2 foot?), Radiation Minners and their Uranium-powered suits operate in the most dangerous of conditions, Ocean floors, Inside Live volcanos, unstable mines, miles bellow the Earth's crust...Minning away for scrap of Uranium, Plutonium...And whatever else they can find that makes a geiger Muller-tube tick. The Suit is protected by seven inches of Lead, lead-chainmail is inter-woven into the fabric that make up the joints for the suit. The Suit is driving by a miniature Uranium Reactor Core in the back. it powers all of the suit's systems: Oxygen scrubbing, external lights, Exoskeleton...And, thanks to the radioactive half-life of twenty years, the suits never have to be refueled for the duration of their factory-recommended lifespans. The Suits are generally considered invulnerable to most weapons. But sadly, all this protection only serves to making the sense of clustrophobia stronger, many Radiation-Minner Pilots going mad and killing themselves long before they can get their pay. Those that do survive, enjoy hefty cheques and massive bonuses, most of which is eaten up by massive medical bills for treatment to alleviate and cure things like: Radiation Poisoning, the bends brought on from working in high-pressure zones deep inside the innards of the earth and at the bottom of the sea. But, with such a high-turnover rate, there is always a job opening for those whom are down on their luck. The exoskeleton for the suit enables it to lift in excess of one hundred tonnes with ease, the downside is, its clunky, slowly, cumbersome...Totally useless for a fast-paced battlefield where Anti-tank weapons can spell doom to even this armoured sonofabitch, meaning that they are generally never seen upon the battlefield unless an army simply cannot afford better.

Of those Rad-miners whom remain sain enough not to commit scuicude, they often develop and unhealthy attachment to their suits, thinking them to be an extension of their own body. These "Jockeys" are crazed individuals and are best avoided. They are nearly impossible to part from their rad-suits. But, due to the fact that they consider their Rad-suit to be an extension of their own bodies, they are the very best pilots for the suits, even those cumbersome pincers that take the place of the left-hand can be a deft and nimble tool, and those rock-saws can become as accurate as the tools and instruments of a master surgeon.

So, if you're short on your dough, don't want to live long, sign up help make weapons of nuclear war.

It's a dark, lonely, cramped life for a Rad-minner.