The Fate franchise is the creation and intellectual property of Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon.
Tales as Old as Time.
It was a beautiful, sunny morning in Edo. A lazy breeze blew from the North. The village was still half asleep, its citizens stirring to go work.
Takao Dayu stepped out. "What are you doing?" the woman asked gently.
The male Berserker smiled and looked up from where he sat on a side of the old road, writing. He held a piece of paper up. They weren't close enough for her to decipher what he had been writing, but she had a good guess.
"Ah, so you're applying for Fate Grand Order," she said. "A wise working move, to be honest!"
The hulking man nodded.
"Do you want any help?"
The hulking man shook his head.
Takao nodded back, bowed, and returned inside. She sat down, pulled an anachronistic cellphone out of one of her wide sleeves, and started playing gacha. Genshin Impact. That treacherous tart!
The Berserker kept on working.
Berserker.
True Name: Samson.
Other Names and Aliases: The Mighty Judge, the Guardian of Yoshiwara, the Unshakeable Bulwark.
Alternate Classes: None.
Alignment: Neutral Good.
Attribute: Human.
Gender: Male.
Natural Enemy: Delilah, Dagon.
He looked at it carefully. Delilah? Why had he written that?
Well, there was no denying it. Delilah had betrayed him.
With a hoarse sigh, he went back to work.
Parameters:
Strength: A+
Endurance: A+
Agility: E
Magic/Mana: B
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: A
Likes: Delilah, Takao, that other young woman, what had been her name? He had forgotten that much. It embarrassed him to realize that all he liked were women, but he couldn't even remember that much about meaningful one. What did that say about him?
Dislikes: The evil warriors opposing him. They always made him so angry...
First Ascension: He would stand posing with his fists clenched, his bare chest exposed, his long green locks drapping around his shoulder. Takao would be so impressed.
Eh. He didn't have any good ideas for further Ascensions, did he? Not like anyone was waiting for them, anyway. He didn't need them regardless.
Final Ascension: Eh, he'd just stand roaring and yanking his head back. Effective and simple, conveying his scariness well enough. He felt on a roll with this, so he continued.
Biography:
Son of Manoah, a wise and pious man from Israel's tribe of Dan. His parents never had been able to conceive a child, and his poor mother prayed to God for a son. The Angel of The Lord granted her wish as long as she would devote that child as a Nazarene, never touching liquor, remaining pure.
He was to never cut his hair, which would grant him incredible strenght, stamina, endurance, vigor, resiliance and speed from a contract with The Almighty. Samson grew up beautiful and loved by all his compatriots, who elected him to rule over them as a Judge.
But alas, his flighty heart often got the best of him. His contempt and fury towards their enemies, the Philistines, was only surpassed by his lust towards the women of those people. He married one even while slaughtering the Philistine armies.
Seduced and tricked by Delilah, a prostitute, Samson had his hair chopped by her, and her people turned him into a slave, humiliating him. Chained to the pillars of the temple of the aquatic false god Dagon, his hair grew and he regained his power. Defiant to the end, he killed himself with his foes.
A tear would have rolled down his stony cheeks while remembering that, if he had been that kind of person.
Class Skills:
Mad Enhancement: A
Rage. He had been full of rage for so long. A reckless loose cannon, a fierce brute.
Just thinking about it made him angry.
ANGRY!
Whew. Better to just move on. Otherwise he'd wreck the whole nice village around him.
Personal Skills:
Independent Action: B
He'd always been stubborn, hadn't he? Headstrong, too prone to do things his way. That had been his downfall and now it was his shame.
He had traveled for a long time without a Master, before encountering Takao. Before her, he never felt like he needed one. This Skill would do.
But he only had those two Skills so far, didn't he? That wouldn't cut it for GO! Even he knew that.
What else to put in? Let's see...
Defender of the Faith: C-
He'd tried to uphold God's will, hadn't he? Well, maybe not so much after all.
He always had been a bit... lazy about it. Immature? Irresponsible? He figured that, if he had to be sincere, he couldn't have too high a rank in this Skill.
Still, he was an enemy of the faithless and dealt double damage to them. That couldn't be denied, so he added it to his list.
Battle Continuation: A
Now this was something he always had been great at, boosted by his Noble Phantasms, his blessings from God.
Even when powerless and tortured, he had clung to survival until it was time for his revenge.
Noble Phantasms:
Samson Agonistes: EX
Enhancement.
A gift from his God, ever active as long as he wouldn't cut his hair, the proof of the devotion he was supposed to grasp onto as a Nazarene.
Nearly unlimited might would flow through him as long as he remained true, in an always effective Noble Phantasm that rendered him invincible.
Delilah: B
Anti-Fortress.
Ah, Delilah. Sweet, beautiful Delilah. The temptress. The spy.
Just by thinking about her, his whole body would swell in the power of a frustrated love, a furious energy to smash everything on his path.
Yes, that would work nicely enough for a Noble Phantasm. He thought it a keeper, so he also put in the resume.
But, how were you supposed to implement those two in a flashy gameplay feature? Samson was too innocent to think about such mercenary things.
Start of Battle:
How did he always start a battle? He'd stomp his foot down and start killing people.
Was he supposed to say something fancy? It wasn't like he could. Meh, he'd let that Fujimaru person handle it.
Attack:
"RRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Berserker growled, scaring several passerbys, who shrieked. He apologized with a bow of his head and returned to his writing, satisfied with the result.
Damage:
What was the sound one would make when injured, again? It had been such a long time since he'd felt that.
Shrugging that off, he only wrote "Oi vey!"
Damage by Noble Phantasm: "
He thought about it again before simply writing "OI VEY!" in all locks.
Victory:
A triumphant roar.
Boy oboy, this was easy! Surely he'd be in the lineup in no time!
Defeat:
Victory was sad, but it also made him furious. Furious like the Philistines, furious like betrayal, furious like-
He swung a fist and broke a tree down. Then he blushed, hid the fist by his side like a child would, and discreetly kicked the trunk downhill.
Perhaps he'd think that part later? Would that be good?
Summon:
He thought about it scratching his jaw, then said in a tentative tone, "GROAR?"
Smiling and nodding to himself, he wrote it down eagerly.
When he had a nice idea, it was an excellent one!
Noble Phantasm Activation:
Samson scratched his hair, picked his nose, hummed and grumbled, and finally handwaved it off.
Extra Dialogue:
When you have Berserker Heracles.
Bro Fist. He sounded like a cool fellow, from the stories the Irishman had told.
When you have Berserker or Saber Miyamoto Musashi.
Samson looked down the road and roared.
"What do I know?!" shouted Musashi from where she sat by the lake, fishing with Cu Chulainn and Iori. "Write down any lines and I'll say them for you!"
Samson nodded his thanks.
When you have Caster Lex Luthor.
Bald evil man bad!
When you have Caster Gilles de Rais.
What an ugly and disgusting vile evil person. Smash him.
When you have Berserker Hulk.
Smash him.
When you have Saber Darth Vader.
Smash him.
Birthday: He always went a bit wild in parties. And then people were mauled. Maybe it'd be for the best if he just skipped birthdays off.
Event: Smash everyone in there? Better safe than sorry, right?
Holy Grail: Delilah...
Threesome with Delilah and Takao...
No, he was doing it again. And the game was rated for all audiences! Shame on you, Samson! he told himself sternly, signing the entry down.
They'd have to accept that, it was a great profile, even if he said it himself. For once, he was truly proud of his achievements.
He hadn't messed it up! In no time he'd stand along Martha, King David, King Solomon, and so many other illustrious ones! Takao would be happy!
"Oniichan!" one of the local girls said, passing along the roadside, and carrying a huge load on her back. "Please help me with this?"
Samson nodded, perked, stood up and ran to easily pick the load for her, tossing it on one of his impressive shoulders.
They began going down the road, and soon disappeared from sight under the bright moon.
Eventually, Takao walked back out. She saw the paper left on the ground, picked it up, and took a good look.
It was scribbled all over with pointless, absurd and utterly nonsensical scratches.
Takao Dayu smiled faintly to herself.
Next: Hey, Puddin'! You'd missed me, hadn't ya?