ARCHIVE [archived sanct signups]

CloudyBlueDay

obvious cryptic
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
#1
Everyone will be happy in Sanctuary. What do you have to offer?

Before delving into the character skeleton, I recommend visiting the following resources.
Rules
Wired & Sanctuary Lore
Takym
Superpowers

I wanted to get signups up as soon as possible, so there may still be some lore added. I'll be sure to let you know when that happens!

And if you really feel like getting your hands dirty, peruse the Eras & Arcs for a better idea of the overall Never Normal timeline, and where this RP stands.

For clarification purposes, this roleplay takes place in the Wired era of Never Normal, sometime in the 2400s, the very end of the era, actually. Its predecessor is the Superhero era, and its successor is the Apocalypse era. Each roleplay run within Never Normal are known as arcs, and the timeline is divided into six eras.

Now, dive into your character! Some key things to keep in mind are why Lyris Matrikt would invite you to Sanctuary; is it your accomplishments? Your powers? Your brains, your brawns? What makes you different?

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to message me (or my cogm @rissa if I am unavailable) or pop a question in this thread or here! Feel free to OOC chat here. Keep in mind not everyone will be accepted. This is a roleplay of detailed nature and if I feel your character is not adequate or you may not be at the level of detail required I will let you know. If there are some minor character issues, I'll be sure to poke you there.

CS deadline: March 9th

Code:
[b]general[/b]
Name:
Age: (16-40)
Sex:
Date of Birth:
Class: (lower or upper)

[b]appearance[/b]
Height:
Weight:
Hair: (description)
Written Appearance: (alongside this, a picture is appreciated but not required! only real or realistic artwork, no anime!)

[b]the juicy stuff[/b]
Personality:
Backstory: 

[b]the Juicier stuff[/b]
Powers: (include a description, detail strengths and limits. if you aren't sure about your power concept, please message me!)
Technological Augmentations: (body modifications or everyday carry? again, strengths and limits)
Glow: (Every metahuman has a glow color that is activated once their power is in use.)
 
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RJS

Already getting hyped for the fiesta!
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm often fairly passive, but I have no trouble being more aggressive if I know that I won't be stepping on other people's toes or upsetting anyone by doing so.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy and SciFi are the two genres I most enjoy. I absolutely adore Dark Fantasy/Dark SciFi, and I quite enjoy RPs with at least a facet of comedy in them too.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not really into pure Romance (although I don't mind it being present as part of a bigger story). I don't mind sexual content, but I'm not a fan of RPing a sex scene in its entirety.
#2
Alright, lemme know if there's any changes I ought to make, or any lore bits I might've missed or misunderstood. (It's 2am here, if you need me to rewrite anything for clarity as well then lemme know.)

General
Name: Natalya Gordetz
Age: 21
Sex: Female
Date of Birth: 23rd March
Class: Lower

Appearance
Height: 160cm
Weight: 60kg
Hair: Black hair, clumsily cut to just above the shoulders, with the fringe stopping above her eyes. Her hair is usually clumped and matted, and the trims it receives from her knife don't tend to help the appearance.
Written Appearance: Slightly taller on average than most people in the lower classes, Natalya gives an air of awkward gangliness - limbs seemingly too narrow for her body due to the scarcity of food. What bulk remains however is largely sinew and muscle, forged from a lifetime of fighting merely to stay alive. Hidden underneath her clothing, her back and torso are criss-crossed with scars that she keeps hidden to avoid unwanted attention. She tends to prefer to stick to the shadows, walking with a slight stoop so as not to stand out above the crowds.

The juicy stuff
Personality:
Natalya is caustic and abrasive, seemingly to a fault. She's quick to see the worst in everyone and to judge them by it. Her outlook on life is distinctly mercenary - she'll take most jobs provided that it puts enough decas in her chip to put Packets on the table. While she'll work most jobs, she prefers those involving violence, having both the aptitude and the inclination towards it. She keeps a distance from people both physically and emotionally, and strongly deters and rebuffs people from closing that distance with a combination of insult and aloofness. She's happiest that way, and so she tells herself.

In reality, Natalya is deeply afraid of letting people close to her. She's never really had anyone with whom to share any kind of true emotional intimacy - anyone who ever came close turned out to be trying to use her for their own purposes. As a result, she's adopted her prickly nature as a way to try and protect herself from ever being exploited again. Nevertheless, she can't entirely hide it; after she gets paid, there's usually a few orphans living on the street that find a packet left next to them in whatever nook or cranny they've been forced to huddle down in.

Most days, she can ignore the emptiness her way of life leaves - swallowing it down and getting on with the day without a second thought. Some days though, it all becomes too much to handle. With nobody who she trusts enough to confide in, the stresses of life and the responsibilities she carries can weigh her down enough to crush her. On days like these she shuts herself away; afraid of what might happen if she were seen in her vulnerable state, afraid of what she might do should she let her defences slip.

Backstory:
Natalya was born and raised in the slums of Takyn. She was born to Josep, a Packet worker and a mother who died in childbirth. After that her father threw out anything and everything related to her, and refused to speak to Natalya about her, not even to say her name. Her first few years passed relatively normally. They were always hungry, but there was at least some food on the table.

All that changed at the age of 5 when she tripped over, grazing her knee and drawing blood, while out walking with her father. Her power awakened, bringing a red glow to her eyes as the blood slowly bled upwards, forming a small tower. Most disconcertingly of all however, was the way she laughed at the injury, a slightly unhinged grin on her face.

It didn't take Josep too long to realise the calibre of his daughter's power, since in that moment of awakening her powers seemed almost equivalent to those of fully-developed adults. In that power, he saw a way out of poverty, out of starvation. If his daughter could control and master her power, she could take on higher paying jobs, jobs outside of the reach of most people. All he had to do was make her as powerful as he knew she could be.

This thought festered, and grew into an obsession. Every time she injured herself, Josep refused to treat it straight away, forcing her to put her power to use. Only once she had completed whatever task he set her would he bandage the wound. Soon, he became 'clumsy in his old age' and injuries to Natalya seemed to happen more frequently. By the time Natalya was 11, he'd dropped all pretence, deliberately wounding her and forcing her to greater and greater feats of power.

As a result, Natalya never truly trusted her father, never felt close to him. The only emotions she felt at home were pain, fear, and an increasing anger as Josep's pretences wore thin. And so it was, one fateful day at the age of 13, that she had had enough. As her blood flowed, as he exhorted her to draw out more and more of her blood, she did. A vicious spike thrust from the wound on her back, curving over her shoulder to pierce Josep through the shoulder. Pinned to the wall by the spike, he could only watch in horror as his daughter walked towards him, that same manic smile on her face. Could only beg as she oh-so-gently eased his knife from his fingers. Could only scream as she repaid him for his lessons.

She sat, shaking, in a bloody room. Her father's corpse staring at her reproachfully. She retched, heaving up the half-Packet she'd eaten for dinner that night. She couldn't stay here. Bad enough to be reminded of the blood on her hands, the blood that caked the walls would be too much. Teasing the blood that caked her shoulder into fine threads, she sewed the wound shut. It would hold until the blood stopped flowing. Taking only a bloodstained knife, she fled the house.

She spent the next 3 years living on the street. She was tolerated by the others, but never accepted. All they expected was that she act as enforcer whenever needed, be that stealing Packets, trespass or defending the safe spaces to sleep. She knew she was being used, but she had nowhere else to go. Better to know you were used than to spend years thinking they cared about you.

Nevertheless, word got out, of a blooded berzerker, a metahuman of unusual power, lurking on the streets and fighting without mercy. Several...less reputable groups saw use in her, and she started to work more serious crime avenues. Blackmail, intimidation, murder... whatever put decas into her account and food on the table, she did it. It sickened her afterwards, though she'd never show it. What was the use? She wasn't invincible, and her employers had a long reach. There was no way she'd ever be able to leave it behind...

Until an invitation to move to Sanctuary landed on her doorstep. She would be used again, no doubt. Why else would she be wanted there? But it wasn't any different out here, after all. Everybody just wanted to use her. But maybe this time she'd be used for something...greater.

The Juicier stuff
Powers: Blood Manipulation
Natalya's power is unusual, as it is a throwback to ages gone by, when powers were truly a force to be reckoned with. Natalya is capable of manipulating her own blood when it is shed, forming it into tendrils, blades or even large masses with which to crush opponents. The amount she is able to draw on is proportional to the amount she is bleeding, and an arterial cut is normally required to produce sufficient blood to produce a usable amount.

In order to manipulate the blood, it must still contain a connection to Natalya's body. For example, a puddle of Natalya's blood cannot be manipulated unless a rivulet of blood runs between it and her open wound. In addition, Natalya cannot draw out more than 1.25 litres of her blood, otherwise the strain on her circulatory system becomes too great and she passes out, releasing her hold on the blood. If she does not receive urgent medical attention and blood transfusion when this happens, she will die from haemorrhage.

One side effect of this power is that her endocrine system floods her body with endorphins in order to dull the pain of the wound, allowing her to focus on controlling her blood. This also puts her into a euphoric state when using her power, making her somewhat akin to a beserker.

Technological Augmentations: (body modifications or everyday carry? again, strengths and limits)
The only augmentation Nat has is the standard implant, given at birth.
Glow: Crimson

 
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
#3

HEX

[accordion=bcenter|100%]
{slide=
BASICS
|center}

  
INFO

  
Full Name || Alytheca (Al-Leth-Eck-Ah) Deljaris (Del-Ari)
Nickname || Hex​
Age || Twenty-Five​
Sex || Female​
DOB || June 11th​
Class || Upper (Quasi)​

  
APPEARANCE

  
"Little Angel... Be a paper doll for only a little while, and fortune will never leave you cold. "

Hex bears a smaller frame, on the average spectrum of height, with a slighly wider busts and hips than waist, and long, lean legs. Despite her lack of physical presence, she carries herself well, possessing a strength of coquettish confidence that exceeds her frame.

She is pretty, though not necessarily entirely conventionally, with an exotic and somewhat unique quality to her that can be both timid and fragile, as well as powerful and striking. Her jaw is narrow, which gives her features a general softness, all set against milky white skin. Her lips are full, with a near perfect bow, her nose slender and her eyes, almond shaped, large and expressive - a magnificent gaslight blue color, framed by thick, dark lashes.

Her hair is a deep brown, though little of that shows beneath the pastel highlights of purple and blue, and generally she wears it wavy and cropped to her shoulders. When outside of work, Hex prefers a casual wardrobe and wears very little in the way of make up.

When within residence in the Flower Streets home, Hex is generally seen in full garb - her face covered by an ornate porcelain-like mask that forms to her own features, styled in traditional Geisha face-paint, a heavy emphasis on her lips and the curvature of her cheeks and eyes. She wears a kimono and obi, and a series of wigs with intricate coloring and ornamentation. All these things are played up with dramatic flair, for the benefit of clientele. When on a job, Hex's appearance varies, most typically to suit the tastes of her client.

Height || 5'6"​
Weight 125lbs.​
Eye Color || Blue​
Eye Glow || Turquoise
Hair Color || Dark brown (pastel blue/purple highlights)​
Build || narrow hourglass​
{/slide}[/accordion]

[accordion=bcenter|100%]
{slide=
TRAITS
|center}

  
PERSONALITY

  
"We all wear our hearts on our sleeves..."

CHARMING POISED POLISHED ALONE

Hex is everything one could want in a professional escort. Her training, which focused largely on the study of body language and sensory awareness, affords her an ability to easily control a situation to her advantage while not appearing manipulative or calculating. She is incredibly skilled in reading emotions, as well as understanding or sensing a person's needs or desires to the point where it can appear nearly premonitory.

Because of her own heightened sense of perception, Hex is good at concealing the feelings she doesn't want others to see. She is, by nature, though, a lonely creature - not fully willing to trust, either due to the corrupt quality of most people's minds, or fear of unintentionally misreading what she wants to read.

Due to the nature of her procurement by Madam and the looming possibility of losing her job, Hex is intensely afraid of failure or appearing disloyal or inadequate. For these reasons, she is greatly inhibited in certain liberties, most importantly in the people she associates with.

STRENGTHS
+ | Obedient
+ | Charismatic
+ | Kind-hearted
+ | Resourceful

FLAWS
- | Inhibited
- | Dissatisfied
- | Lonely
- | Weak
{/slide}[/accordion]

[accordion=bcenter|100%]
{slide=
BIOGRAPHY
|center}

  
HISTORY

  
"Would you bite the hand that feeds you, Child?"


Hex remembers very little from her childhood in a fond light. Born to parents in the lower class, most of her young life was a struggle to survive. Time and again, she watched her family capitalizing on the pains of others, selfishly taking and never giving, all in the name of poverty, and it instilled in Hex a mistrust for humanity.

By the age of ten, Hex was an uncommonly lovely child, and it was this which caught the attention of Madam, the owner of a popular and exclusive escort service within Takym. Madam offered to buy Hex, and her parents did not hesitate, trading her over for a few decas and one less mouth to feed. A circumstance which should have broken the young girl was, instead, received with abject gratitude and it was her optimistic outlook on the events that endeared Hex to Madam in a deeply profound way.

Hex became like a daughter to the woman, who trained her up in the art of companionship, and over time, Hex blossomed into an auspicious escort, immensely popular, particularly among the Elite. It was her popularity, as well as her obedient nature, coupled with the abilities she possessed (both natural and otherwise) that opened the door for Hex to become a part of Madam's secondary enterprise. A gathering of information... espionage of old.

  
POWERS & AUGMENTS

  
PERCEPTION FILTER​

  
cloaking || similar to camouflage, Hex can alter her body to become visually undetectable to the naked eye and devices such as infrared and motion sensors. This is done via a cloaking of sorts, where she is able to shift or alter the perception of those around her to hide her appearance.

This ability is not transferrable from source to source, however Hex can allow someone in physical contact with her to briefly cloak as well.​
PERCEPTION BENDING​

  
alterations || Hex can alter the physical appearance of an object for a brief period of time. By touching the object and shifting the perception of it, she can make the object appear as something other than what it is.

This can only be done on objects of similar sizes and shapes. For instance, she could alter a blank paper to appear as a document or make a stone look like a diamond, but she could not change a paper or stone into a mouse. This visual effect is not permanent and lasts only as long as she is able to focus on the illusion.​
PERCEPTION READING​

  
empathy || Through the manipulation of perception, Hex is able to 'read' a person's emotional state. This state cannot be altered, but through the analysis, Hex is able to determine a person's wants or needs.

This ability does not work on those who are able to shield their thoughts or feelings, and the more attached to a person Hex is, emotionally, the more difficult it is to determine the genuine nature of what she is reading.​
AUGMENTATIONS​

  
artifical lenses ||Since becoming employed by Madam, Hex has undergone many small augmentations to her optic nerves. Her eyes, the color of which changed drastically from dark brown to blue, are now equipped with infrared, scope and x-ray technology, as well as the ability to visually 'scan' or photograph objects and people.​
{/slide}[/accordion]

Code by Elle Joyner
 
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Doctor Jax

Lord of the Mice
BITE Fall Managers' Pick
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
3PM CST - 9 PM CST
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Urban Fantasy, Horror
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#4



[accordion=bcenter|600]
{slide=
Bad News|center}Name: Obvaerd "Obi" Yunikva Matroshki
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Blood Type: B
Date of Birth: January 5th
Class: Lower
{/slide}
{slide=
That Face, That Hair, That Body|center}
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs.
Build: lanky/thin
Hair: oil slick black
Eyes: hazel-green
Written Appearance: All soft edges and delicate features, Obi looks more like a porcelain doll than a boy.
His skin is a creamy pale color, with a hint of a blush that shines his cheeks. His lips are almost unnaturally pink, as if they'd been airbrushed on. His short black hair gleams slick in iridescent colors under neon, and his hazel eyes are shaded by thick, black eyelashes. Coupled with a voice that borders on feminine, Obi is downright dainty.

But perhaps his most striking feature, when they're out and about, are his hands. Obi has extraordinarily slender and dexterous hands. Often they're fiddling with a prewar coin, or a piece of paper, a small toy. His feet are much the same - slender, white, and extraordinarily flexible.

The rest of his body is almost waifishly thin, both a product of poverty and an active lifestyle characterized by running from building to building. Dotted here and there, scars cover his pale skin, mostly road rash from sliding down buildings on accident, or against the ground.
{/slide}
{slide=
Powers That Be|center}
Powers: Peripheral Glia
Obi has extra nerve cells bundled in his arms, hands, legs, and feet - basically a beefed up peripheral nervous system. Each glial cluster acts very similarly to a tiny brain all on its own, allowing him to do a separate task with each limb independently of the other limbs, i.e. finishing a Rubik's cube with his left while juggling two balls with his right.
Pros:
  • His sense of touch is also extremely sensitive, able to pick up tiny discrepancies across surfaces. He could pick out a ledge 100 nm tall with his fingers.
  • His hands and feet can react to stimuli much faster than a normal person. However, that's not to say his hands and feet are 'omniscient'. Unless he sees/hears it, or something touches his hands and feet, he can't react to it.
  • He has a phenomenal ability to multitask, often performing two actions at the same time.
  • His muscle memory is excellent.
Cons:
  • The sensitivity can be a real problem if someone figures it out. Breaking skin on his fingers/toes is extremely painful.
  • His hands and feet can very quickly "get bored", as he calls it. He has to keep them occupied.
  • That muscle memory is also a huge deterrent if he learned how to do something the wrong way.
    It quickly becomes a trial to 'unlearn' bad habits.

Other skills:
  • Lockpicking: Mechanical locks are no match for Obi. He can even lock pick with his feet! He's tried, for fun.
  • Silvertongue: Lying comes almost second nature to Obvaerd. He can spin whole alternate universes at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, this is nearly a compulsory behavior.
  • Pickpocket: Like his ability to pick locks, Obi is adept at picking pockets, deft enough to even steal the scarf from around a person's neck.
  • Hardcore Parkour: While he can only do this while wearing special inserts in his shoes and padded gloves, he is adept at weaving through obstacles, around people, and over rooftops. Without his equipment, he's mostly left on the ground due to the sensitivity in his hands.
  • Misdirection: He should have been a magician. He is adept at misdirecting people's attention away from things, either for the purpose of stealing something, or - well, - because why not?
  • Accounting Calculus: He may not look it - but he is a financial wizard. He does some money laundering on the side, but his main business is stealing and fencing. That said, he has a good nest egg built.

Technological Augmentations: A downgraded implant. In fact, quite simply, Obi is against augmentation. He's largely been de-installing his implant to the least amount of functions possible, only retaining those which keep him out of trouble. He does have software installed that 'spoofs' a gallery of up to 40 false IDs based on real people that changes. It's even smart enough to 'hover' on a single identity (picked out of a roster of 12 that look like him) while he's being IDed by police officials. Anyone able to get to his real ID would need serious fire power.

Glow: White-gold
{/slide}
{slide=
It's All About Me|center}
Personality: On the outside? A lovely, naive boy with a kind heart, a wide-eyed sense of wonder at the world, an almost palpable kind of trust as he listens intently to those who speak to him. Others would call his trust madness, considering the madcap world of Takym, as he seems to swallow the things people tell him wholesale.

They could not be further from the truth.

Obi is extremely jaded, to the point of distaste for his fellow man. He despises other human beings with a passion at their callousness, the lengths they will go to survive, the levels they will stoop to for just a few decas. More than once, someone jumped at his supposed naivete, only to have the tables turned on them. He believes that he's long given up the hope that he'll find a truly selfless person somewhere. Then again, he's not really looking, either. In private, he's a somewhat nervous individual who hides it well, paranoid to a fault, and always wondering what exactly it is someone wants from him.

History: The act was not always an act. As a boy, living in the lower class of Takym, his mother worked in one of the many Packet factories making a few decas so that they could get something to eat. His mother would often transfer a few decas from her paycheck into a savings account under Obi's name. Despite the predatory savings rates, she was faithful to that scheme, and he was always grateful for how much she worked.

Then, one day, a man asked if he could see Obi's barcode, to check that it worked. Being a seven year old boy, he didn't see why not. That man stole every last penny out of that account. When his mother came home, she did not weep. She did not cry. She did not even say a word.

She beat him. Black and blue.

He learned not to trust very quickly after that. A lesson can only be learned through pain, and he learned his lesson very well. Though his mother never beat him again, he continued to resent her for that day, burying the hate in his heart over that lack of an "I'm sorry, I did you wrong." He later learned the savings account was a way to hide her money - not a way to grow his own. It was never his to have to begin with.

As time went on, and money grew tighter, Obi learned to steal - not decas, though. That was too hard. No, he pickpocketed whatever valuables he could lay hands on. He grew a network of fencers who knew where to sell. He hid his ID, and he hid it well. At some point, he stopped living with his mother - when, he doesn't even remember. They just seemed to grow apart.

Now, he largely lives in a large apartment complex, known for his sweet nature, but largely unassuming. However, he's starting to wish that he could have something more than just the leavings of others...
{/slide}
[/accordion]
 
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Pahn

Badass Bitch
ROLEPLAY DEPARTMENT
DONATING MEMBER
Cruel Mistress
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
Anytime, I have no life.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, Androgynous
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm fine with both, but I have hard time with others using my character(s) without my prior consent. If the other player is unsure, I will have more of an aggressive style.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, romance, slice of life, anti-hero stories, "you're our only hope", fandom non-canons, soft scifi, transhumanism, magical girls, horror, suspense / mystery, monster girls, fractured fairytales
Genre You DON'T Like
Roadtrip style, already-planned-out adventures, rigid GMs.
#5

  

  

  

Milkkenbohn Eilleosh
Milk-en-bone Eel-le-osh

general
Nicknames: Milk, Millie (parents)
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Date of Birth: September 30
Class: Upper

appearance
Height: 5 feet 11 ; 1.80 m
Weight: 155 lbs ; 70.3 kg
Hair: Slightly wavy and a chestnut brown, sits below the shoulders mid-way down the shoulder blades.
Written Appearance: Milkkenbohn dresses like a proper upper class woman. She follows the trends and wears outfits that hug all her curves. Speaking of curves, she has been graced with a large bust and wide hips that give her an hourglass figure. Her eyes are a greenish blue, her skin like porcelain, and her full lips give her a constant smirk or pout.

the juicy stuff
  • personality ;
    • Growing up a single child, Milk was a bit late in learning how to empathize with other children. While this isn't as much of a problem in her adult life, it does make personal relationships a bit more difficult. Her over-confidence in herself makes it a challenge for anyone to impress her or make her feel like they are worth her time. She's been called cold and manipulative, but it isn't quite right; she can care about others, it simply takes some time and finesse.

      With an excellent education under her belt and a grand sense of innovation, Milk has honed her entrepreneurship skills and has become a successful businesswoman. She takes pride in her work, and would never do anything half-way or sell anything she feels are not up to her standards. In a place rampant with corruption like Takym, her creativity helps her make sure she never misses an opportunity while remaining as honest as possible.

      Pride and entitlement are perhaps her biggest faults, and while she is seriously invested in her work and on improving her lifestyle, there is something about the woman that makes others feel uncomfortable. She prefers business partners over friends, but perhaps it is only because she has yet to meet someone who doesn’t cower under her assertive gaze.
  • backstory ;
    • While Milk's powers manifested when she was very young, her parents kept pushing her abilities to their limits. They believed it was like a muscle, that it could be trained until it reached its limits. They weren't entirely wrong, although it wasn't the power itself that Milk was meant to improve; it was her memory. Once that objective was defined, she was sent to some of the best schools in Takym, and soon Milk was able to transmute much faster some small objects.

      Transmutation wasn't quite the flashy power to have, and other metas her age mocked her for having such a "worker class" power. Cosmetic powers were all the rage, and the girl was cast aside by her schoolmates. It was fine by her, however - more alone time meant more time to practice and become the perfect Alchemist. Of course her parents forbade her from using that word outside the comfort of their home, but it was on her mind every time she created something.

      Once she had graduated from a prestigious university, Milk had acquired a massive amount of knowledge. Anything she had read, she had retained. She had a sharp sense of business and without having to worry about supporting herself just yet, she started her own fashion line, Alkay Mii. She was successful at first with her family friends and her neighborhood, and a lucky star shone upon her as her business expanded into something much bigger. Her main fashion items were metal-based accessories, since those were the easiest for her to transmute and she had the most talent in. Chic heels, cocktail dresses, wigs of all colours... The transmuter catered to all sorts of clienteles.

      While her business was flowering nicely, she moved into her own home and hired workers to shop and assemble the materials for her. Because her brand was a thing now, Milk allowed herself to become more and more selective with her customers and it didn't take long for some items to go out for exorbitant prices. Perhaps that is how Lyris Matrikt took some interest in her, an upper class business woman earning her fortune through her own means.

      As she nears her thirties, Milkkenbohn plans to expand her business or find a new venture, as boredom has begun to settle. She's found herself in a comfortable place with plenty of resources and more money than she could care about. A new challenge is what she's been craving and she hopes to create new connections. It's not that easy, especially since she's reached the glass ceiling separating her from the elite of Takym. A barrier that she is itching to break.

the Juicier stuff
Power: Transmutation Alchemy
[Details] Transmutation: the action of changing or the state of being changed into another form. It must always be an equivalent exchange - nothing can be gained without first giving something of equivalent value away.
  • strengths ;
    • Milkkenbohn can transmute anything that is a solid, liquid, and gas material. For gas, she can use the chemical components in the air for small things, but requires tanks of said gas if a larger quantity is needed in the recipe.
    • To transmute something, she must be aware of its base components and their required quantity. Therefore, she must study and research anything she wishes to transmute.
    • It can be done at any time, as long as she can concentrate and isn't interrupted.
  • limits ;
    • If a transmutation fails, all materials are destroyed. Same if a transmutation is interrupted, materials are lost or compromised.
    • As mentioned, she cannot transmute something she doesn't have intricate knowledge about.
    • While she can change the chemical components of the materials, the transmutation becomes unsteady if a material changes form (solid -> liquid -> solid, solid -> gas -> solid).
    • Absolutely no "live" transmutations (any living organism, from plant to human).

Technological Augmentations:
  • Hololens
    -->Hololens have the shape of basic eye contact lens. They are a bit thicker than real-life prescription eye contacts, and they are manufactured right here in Takym. They can come in various colours, but those tend to be more expensive and a bit more tiring to wear. Through the nanites in the eye-drops that come it, the Hololens can connect to the optic nerve and thus to any implants the user has. For the user only, they will see holographic projections with the lenses; anything from entertainment, larger-scale games from the holocomm, and beautifying of horrible real-life shit. Other users can connect to one person's Hololens through a protected network, as long as they also have Hololens.
    • uses ;
      • Relay data from any other implants in the user or devices connected to user’s implants.
    • strengths ;
      • Very thin and easy to wear, Hololens are contact lens meant for the user to see holograms in real time, real size.
      • Easily replacable, although expensive. Can connect to any AR and VR chip.
    • limits ;
      • On top of being expensive, Hololenses can only be found at the manufacturer's boutique, and no where else.
      • While in use, thre Hololens is always online and connected to a vendor, processing data since the lens themselves do not have the space or power to process. All of it happens in the cloud service.
      • They cannot be worn all day or even for an extended period of time, as it will begin to deter one's natural eyesight strength.

Glow
Chartreuse


  

  

  
 

RiverNotch

Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
#6
[accordion=bcenter]
{slide=Basic Information|center}Name: Ryckhohroshchcjkia "Ryckh" Orzello*
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Birthdate: September 30
Social Class: Upper Class

* - pronunciation note: "Ryckh" is pronounced more like "Ruch", with the "ch" sounding like the ch in "loch", rather than, say, the German word "Reich", or the regular English name "Rick" -- the "y" sound is more akin to the Classical Latin y or the Russian ы. "Orzello" is pronounced "or-TZEL-lyo".​
{/slide}
{slide=Physical Evaluation|center}
Height: Just under six feet.
Weight: Two hundred and forty pounds with prostheses, immeasurable without.
Hair: Hair in wild white curls, extended like sunbeams, and with its edges as far from his hairline as his lips.
Appearance: He looks exactly like a slender, attractive female, especially because of his prostheses -- even his breasts (prostheses), muscle mass (prostheses composed of thinner, denser, strength-augmenting material), body structure (prostheses, hip extension), and groin area (with the genitalia hidden under prosthesis installed during hip extension) look female. Only his genetics, psychosocial identity, and internal physiology remain male. For specifics on his face, refer to the picture included above.​
{/slide}
{slide=Psychological Evaluation|center}
Mysterious, according to him. According to his peers, not so, but he clarifies that about eighty percent of the words coming out of his mouth is utter bullshit, he's only comfortable talking in either an occupational or a completely recreational context.
Driven, according to him. According to his peers, not so, and he agrees, in a sense, as he does not take to keeping deadlines; nevertheless, his work as a biogeographer, he claims, is consistently intelligent, original, and, on occasion, revolutionary, something which his superiors agree with -- to a point. One superior notes that revolutions only work when they're on time.
Depressed, according to him. With this point, his peers concur, as his mental state seems to explain his erratic behavior. Erratic, however, does not mean unprofessional, both he and his peers stress -- bar pending deadlines.
{/slide}
{slide=Brief Biography|center}
Immediate family composed of his mother (superpowered: heightened empathy, undercut by a manic rage), his father (superpowered: secretion of pheromones capable of calming the people around him), and his older sister. His mother and father were both members of the upper class, albeit originally under its lower end. At the time of his older sister's birth, however, his father had managed to land a job as engineer for a company serving superpower evaluation facilities, rising through its ranks to become a top level manager. By the time Ryckh was born, the family had enough wealth to move to a more exclusive community, and both he and his sister were educated under highly exclusive in-person schools.
Complete education. High marks during elementary and high school, erratic marks during undergraduate period, overextended stay during undergraduate and master's periods. Doctorate studies interrupted by what he and his peers term the accident, the circumstances of which are generally unclear. What is sure is that, while studying populations of migratory processors in the sunken city of Manila, an explosion stripped away about forty to sixty percent of his biomass. The lost matter was replaced, after an immediate evacuation to Takym, not with lab grown organic material, but with cybernetic augmentations, providing him with increased strength, speed, and connectivity to Takym's communication systems.
The augmentations were designed primarily by two individuals: his former girlfriend, a film archivist and historian specializing in the fashions of twenty-first century music videos, and his then-current girlfriend, an engineer specializing in metallic implants. According to the latter, the augmentations were primarily meant to address two anxieties he'd supposedly possessed since high school: his anxiety over his body image, in that he always felt his appearance better fit a feminine than a masculine template, and his anxiety over a lack of obvious, non-intellectual superpowers. Shortly after the operation, however, he and his then girlfriend broke up, ostensibly because of the operation's results.
Doctorate studies completed just before being invited into the sanctuary. Undergraduate degree Pre-Takymian History, master's degree Conservational Ecology, doctorate degree Esoteric Biogeography. His invitation, he assumes, is less because of his superpowers, and more because of his studies and connections. The interdisciplinary nature of his work has led to his associating with experts on many fields, particularly those on the fields of his undergraduate and master's studies, as well as on the fields of Hermetic Theology and Computational Linguistics (the study of the languages of artificial intelligences, and not the study of human languages using computational techniques); and, for his personal set of skills, I again refer to his supervisors' notes.
{/slide}
{slide=Superpowers and Augmentations|center}
Heightened empathy: Not to the same degree as either his mother or his sister, and not developed well enough for him to easily discern and use those feelings. Glow is the same as per his other powers.
Heightened intellect: Specifically a stronger memory, faster computational prowess, subtler observational skills, and a more diverse set of points-of-view. Only the first aspect is accessible to him without making him glow: the rest make him glow a slight tinge of green, and are only activated whenever he and his surroundings are in a state of calm. This is in contrast to his sister's heightened intellect, which is both weaker, and activated only when she is enraged.
Calming pheromones: These allow for his intellect to work in periods of high stress, although, unlike in the case of his sister, he is unable to secrete these pheromones voluntarily. His glow here is of the same color, albeit much stronger in the parts where the pheromones are of the greatest concentration (his nape, his left armpit, and the inner portion of his left thigh).
Athlete's strength: His augmentations are designed to give him super strength, super speed, and super endurance, at least for the parts where the augmentations were installed. Those parts are: his cranium, the right side of his face, the right side of his chest, his entire right arm, his abdominal musculature, his groin, his entire right leg, and both his feet. The rest of his musculature was also augmented, albeit to a much lesser extent than those portions of his body completely replaced by cybernetics, in order for his natural physique to "catch up" with his artificial physique. Because of this, and because he chose to cover all his prostheses with natural skin, he had to undergo a couple of years physical training just for his prostheses not to tear his biological body apart, and he has to maintain a strict cycle of maintenance in order to keep his neurological controls in check. Those controls are connected to his glow: his augmented parts glow green whenever he exerts himself physically.
{/slide}
{/slide}
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Madman in The Attic

Comes in a Little Glass Vial
Roleplay Invitations
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Writing Levels
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Genders You Prefer Playing
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Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
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Favorite Genres
Science Fiction, Dystopia, Political, Political Fantasy, Character Studies, Horror, Psychological, Thriller, Corruption, Space, Cyberpunk, Gothic, Sci-Fi Military, Cyborgs, AI
Genre You DON'T Like
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#7

Drexztchov 'Drex' Vankova


[accordion=bcenter|525]
{slide=Who|center}Name: Drexztchov 'Drex' Vankova
[ Dh-Rex ]
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: 01 January

Class: Lower
{/slide}
{slide=Are|center}Height: Six foot, six inches
Weight: Three-hundred pounds, give or take (including prosthetics)
Hair: Drex's hair is naturally a dull, dark brown, but they bleach it near-white (and in doing so, cause it to thin out a lot due to the damage it causes). At present, the left hand side goes down to their fourth rib, whilst the right hand side is shaved as an undercut for practical reasons (i.e. his prosthetics).
Written Appearance: Clothed, Drex looks like any other punk-bitch androgynous street trash, save for the bulky metal protrusions jutting out of the nap of his neck. He dresses for practicality in tough, dark, and enduring (p)leather materials, or whatever the hell he can get his hands on in a pinch. When outdoors, he usually wears a dark helmet or mask for the purpose of obscuring his identity from handy dandy visual scanners that would otherwise fuck up his hard work with his implant.

Undressed, they are constructed entirely of prosthetics from the base of their neck and down. It is obvious from the look to the prosthetics to anyone familiar with such things that they are dirt-cheap and partially handmade/personally designed. There's little protection for the internal wiring and electronics, and the only reason the originally five foot five Drex is now over six feet is because smaller parts weren't available. They're spindly, rickety, and constructed out of bulky, old-fashioned bolts and scrap.

Due to frequent use of his abilities, Drex's eyes are permanent bright green, and 'shimmer' with the glow effect.
{/slide}
{slide=You|center}Personality:
Drex is in many ways your quintessential geek shut up in a dark room surrounded by flashing screens. His powers make human interaction something of a nightmare, so he has to 'recharge' with some quiet time, or at least time not having to tune into speech.

Having said that, he's remarkably outgoing and staunch for someone with his 'condition'. He's the kind to seek out the coolest new shit, find out what's happening in 'the real world', and hang out with the party kids whilst he's at it (a fondness for drugs may or may not be largely responsible for this). He's bitter about 'the system' without being pessimistic, is a sarcastic, satirical little shit, but also isn't the kind to whine about life. A believer in making do with what you have, he's practical, stubborn, and surprisingly mouthy when he wants to be.

With a form of ADHD that makes it a struggle to multi-task, he also gets deeply fixated on things and can work on one project for three days straight, damn the consequences. His self-care is dodgy at best, at worst, well- it's a miracle he's still alive.

Backstory:
Drex was born to a 'scrapper' father and a dealer of a mother; Papa stole whatever tech he could, fixed it up and fenced it, whilst mother dearest made her way on the drug food chain, a small time dealer second from the bottom of the pile, above only the junkies themselves. With six older sisters, Drex's 'quirkiness' didn't really matter so long as he pulled his weight in helping out the parents. His ability began manifesting when he was about six, and escalated rapidly until, by the time he was ten, he was pretty much incapable of holding a conversation with a person. His powers overwhelmed him completely, and it was only later, in his teenage and young adult years, that he was able to claw back his grasp on the 'real' world.

Back to kiddyhood: Neither parent was too impressed with his tech savvy skills until he demonstrated that it could have practical applications, like wiping out 'locked' tech his father swiped or screwing around with junkie's implants to keep the pigs from sniffing about. Thus, with this unique trick to turn, Drex was pretty much left to his own devices and allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted so long as he was available when needed. As for his 'quirks', they just wrote him off as a mute or a 'chickenhead' as his mother liked to say, and couldn't care less about it since bright or not, he was handy.

With this freedom, twelve year old Drex drifted into the world of VR. His first and only true love affair, Drex took to VR like his mother's clients did to her supply. All his free time and whatever cash he could scrounge was spent at the public VR cafe hooked up and playing. After the initial six months of familiarizing himself with how the hardware worked, he took over one of his dad's 'reclaimed' VR terminals and began programming. VR provided a world where everything was 'in his language', and not even drugs are as much of a relief to him as VR immersion.

Drex has had many heated flings since - a hacking stint for an elite security corporation, commissions for business software, viruses, monitoring programs, population evaluation algorithms, implant altercation designs, the odd flirtation with the police's data networks - but no romance has ever surpassed 'best girl', aka VR. Despite his forays into the less-than-legal side of the digital world, Drex's usefulness to certain Elites and Upper class folks has kept him out of solitary confinement. Of course, none of them have ever actually met him in person (he is lower class, after all) but his hacker handle of 'Meerkatnip' (MK) is contactable if you know the right channels to go through. Without the fancy tech of the Elites, Drex is by no means the most powerful 'hacker' out there, but has a reputation for being clean, quick, and untraceable. He's the sort of person you go to when you're up to no good - or, conversely, if you want to test how well your system would do against someone up to no good.

Locally, most people just think Drex is a VR junkie loser deadbeat— weird, but relatively harmless. Of course, those who know about the 'surgery' stories are less inclined towards this opinion; But then again, if you heard a dude progressively chopped off each one of his limbs just to replace it with shitty prosthetics, you'd probably think he's a bit of a kook too. More on that story later.

Other fun facts include:
  • Thanks to his handle, most folks think Meerkatnip is a woman.
  • Surprisingly, his mother and father are still going strong. Drex's two younger sisters still live at home along with one of the older ones and help out with the 'family business', so to speak.
  • Technically, Drex's income is unusually high for a lower class peasant. Problem is, he spends it all on maintaining his bot-bod and on VR avatar outfits (worth it). Also, drugs. And tech. Point is, there's a lot of shit to buy out there and food is a very low priority.
  • Drex is chill with he/him, she/her or they/them pronouns.
  • Drex's 'known' VR avatar as Meerkatnip is that of a catgirl. He modded the ear animations himself, don't ya know?
{/slide}
{slide=Really|center}Power: Technopathy
Break down

The Toaster Won't Shut Up
Drex hears voices. Specifically, he hears technology. Now, a toaster isn't sentient (not any he's met anyway) so there's no chatting about the weather, but there is a 'voice'. It's hard to translate into an analogy for verbal speech, but essentially, Drex can hear the workings of electrical systems; The buzz of electrons, the split second processing of a hundred thousand binary commands, all that stuff, all inside of his head. His power translates that into something he can understand, though explaining this to 'normies' is tricky to say the least.

For mundane objects like a kettle, this ability is pretty useless and annoying. However, when you get to the more complex technology, that's where this power actually has a use. 'Hearing' the language of computer systems and so on means Drex can keep up with what they're doing (to an extent) and understand how various systems work.
Pros:
✔ Drex never had to be 'taught' computers or hacking, they were literally in his head from a young age. This means that when encountering new hardware, software, etc, if he gets enough time to familiarise himself with it, he can normally understand the method by which it works and thus hacking it becomes a lot easier, and less trial and error.
✔ In theory, Drex is sensitive to technology present that shouldn't be, or, is sensitive to tech that he's searching for. The 'in theory' part comes from how this is a matter of identifying it through the 'noise' of other tech. If alone in a cave with a toaster in the dark, he could find the toaster easy. In a computer store or data bank network, he hasn't got a hope in hell of pointing 'over there' and knowing where a particular system is.

However, familiarity with an area can decrease this, i.e. in his own home, he can sift through the noise and locate everything. Handy when you misplace shit!
Cons:
✗ Past or future, hearing voices in your head has never been the greatest of things, and in Drex's case, it really comes with its consequences. To put it simply, he comes off as bat shit crazy. Which, to regular perception, he is. His reality is not that shared by the majority of the human race: he experiences the world through the tech around him, and this obscures the 'real' physical, non-electronic world around him, essentially blinding him to it.

This has all kinds of consequences.

For one, navigating around anything that isn't tech is tricky as hell. Even if his body could run safely, he'd crash into a table or some shit in a minute. In crowds, he's also always bumping into people and finds being in area with a lot of movement by people or non-electric objects both terrifying and disorientating.

Secondly, he couldn't 'feel' his own body. The nervous responses of his body were almost entirely blotted out by his 'sixth sense' and as a result his body did not feel like his own. He claims he barely even felt it when he removed his various limbs.

Third, human speech and interactions are extremely difficult, as he's already listening in on a hundred dozen 'conversations' occurring around him in the electric sphere. Whilst he's a little better than he once was at tuning out of this, he still comes across as 'mad' to anything communicating verbally with him. His speech alternates between responses to the electric and to the human, and he finds following spoken tangents difficult. He is, however, much more adept at processing the written word (i.e. the typed word) as he can process this the same way he does everything else.
✗ If around malfunctioning tech, he gets a severe, extremely painful migraine, a similar sensation to having a drill slowly screwed into the back of his skull.

Having Said That, the Toaster is also my Bitch
As telepaths can alter the thoughts of others with their minds, or cast illusions, yada yada yada, Drex has a degree of 'psychic' interface with technology. The more complex the system, the more difficult this is. Additionally, using it for prolonged periods causes migraines.
Pros:
✔ With 'basic commands' they don't even need to touch or type anything, they can just will a light to switch on, a computer to log in, etc.
✔ If they concentrate, they can also carry out more complex tasks.
✔ They can simultaneously hack via keyboards (they're retro hipsters like that) or the available equivalent and utilise their interfacing abilities at the same time to reach a similar goal, but preforming a separate function.
Cons:
✗ Prolonged use causes migraines
✗ Extremely long use can cause brain damage, internal cranial bleeding, and possibly cancer.


Technological Augmentations:

Bot Body
A cyborg from the neck down, Drex looks like he was in some kind of horrific accident, and in a sense, he was: He systematically lopped off his own limbs. His torso was replaced a little less guerilla warfare style, but was still entirely self-inflicted and dangerous.
Pros:
✔ For Drex, it's a lot easier to retain awareness of his own body with the new augmentations. He often experiences a degree of dysphoria for his head and face, and has difficulty physically expressing emotions via his facial muscles due to this disconnect.
✔ Pain for Drex is a weird one. He doesn't so much as feel acute, discomforting pain, but rather a sense of disorientation and dissociation due to the damage or loss on one of his prosthetics. This is due to interrupted connections to said limb, and whilst extremely unnerving, does spare him from the pain human limbs feel under duress.
Cons:
✗ These prosthetics require constant maintenance and repair, will start creaking and sticking and sometimes just plain fall apart on the fly. They might be the best Drex could do on a budget, but that's not saying much.
✗ Rickety, poorly insulated and cheap-scrap hodge podges as they are, all of Drex's limbs and torso are incredibly vulnerable. They can walk about, but running for any distance near guarantees they'll break down and as for enduring attack? You punch Drex's arm, his hand will probably come off.
✗ Electric heart: The most vulnerable part of Drex is his heart. A biomechanical 'upgrade' of his actual heart, it's probably the most durable part of his body, but isn't too hard to get at as the 'ribcage' surrounding it is less protection than a human one.​

'Improved' Implant
Given his skill set as a hacker and his abilities, Drex has fucked with his implant in pretty much every imaginable way (do not try this at home kids, he's given himself one stroke and did something that gave his then human body palsy down the entire lefthand side, twice). It makes interfacing in a 'creative' way (read: hacking) with electric terminals and systems much easier, and also lets him bypass mundane bits and bobs like being tracked or the skytrain fare, and because Drex is Drex, the 'monitor my health' function is permanently disabled (a handy trick when you're prone to lopping off your own limbs).
Pros:
✔ Handy dandy for hacking activities!
✔ Helps with staying under the radar
Cons:
✗ If Drex has his implant inspected, he'd likely be thrown in jail, or worse.
✗ If Drex does die unintentionally then ain't no implant going to be able to call emergency service to come clean up his corpse, which frankly, is just plain inconsiderate. Nobody wants to find a two week old corpse rotting away. Gross. Oh, also, if he's critically injured and actually wants medical attention, unless he's able to reverse the disabled functions (which requires full cognitive powers on his behalf) then he's scoobied.



Glow: Matrix Green
{/slide}
{slide=?|center}



{/slide}
[/accordion]

 
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Jays

Storm crashes. A fire sparks, its tide drowns all.
DONATING MEMBER
BITE Fall Community Pick
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#8
VICE​

Facade Of A Dream Change Confession The Lies We All Hide Behind


  • Vktr Krmski
    (Vik-tor Key-ram-ski)

    Nickname: Vice
    Age: 27
    Sex: Male
    Date of Birth: February 29
    Class: Upper

    appearance
    Height: 6'2" ; 187 cm
    Weight: 185 lbs. ; 84 kg
    Hair: Dark Brown
    Eyes: Gray

    Tall and wide-shouldered but without the bulk to match, Vice's nearly slender form exudes quiet contemplation and a subtle physical presence that always reminds others he is there. He carries himself not with confidence, but a slight hint of lingering self-doubt, as if silently questioning each and every action he himself takes.

    Most of Vice's features are his mother's, with high cheekbones,slender nose and a fair complexion. Only the strong jawline and his eyes are his father's. The result is an almost feminine face set in rough outline, and a pair of dull gray eyes alien and out of place among the more delicate features. He wears his hair long in front to cover a ragged scar stretching across his forehead.

    His attire only has 2 states, full standard uniform on duty, and a loose fitting dark suit everywhere else, sometimes with a long coat of similar shade depends on the weather. He also owns an expensive dark blue suit for more formal events, which he absolutely despises.

  • the freak show

    Curious Biology || Vice's skin tissues, especially the epidermis have an abnormal structure in which it has several layers of cells, the outer most completely transparent, with the ones below each consists of specific pigment cells containing pockets of chemical. Through an extensive network of abnormal nerve cells just under the epidermis, specific chemicals can be released, with their combinations resulting in different colors, thus granting him the ability to control the color of his skin down to the cellular level.

    Pros:
    • Having extra layers of cells causes Vice's skin to be slightly tougher.
    • His skin cells regenerate quickly.

    Cons:
    • A deep cut can easily damage the network of nerve just under his pigment cell layer, causing excruciating pain.
    • Vice's skin heals faster than the rest of his body, sometimes resulting in the skin healing over an open wound, trapping clot and dirt in and leading to severe infection underneath. He has to cut his skin open to clean the wound each time.
    • A blow with enough force from a blunt instrument can rupture the chemical vesicles, disrupting his control at the area of contact and cause varying degree of color disfiguration when the ruptured chemicals mix.

    Glow || Auburn

    augmentation

    Pain Supression Implant || a small chip installed in the brain. Triggered as an reaction to pain signals higher than a certain threshold, can be disabled through personal Holocomm. Disrupts nerve signal using negating electrical pulses to stop the brain from registering pain.
    • Produces massive mental strain on the brain. Prolonged activation can lead to disruption in hormones/antibody production of the body, as well as nerve damage, irregular blood pressure in the brain, and stroking. Recommended average activation: 2 minutes (with 18 hours intervals).

    Standard Issue Scrylens || a single contact lens applied to the left eye with several filters for fieldwork assisstance. Connected to the Central Law Enforcement Database. Glows pale blue when in use. Acts as a sweeping lens and screen with commands voice or touch activated through personal Holocomm.
    • Record and Retrieve Mode: The device’s main usage, includes face/gait recognition and profile retrieval/examination.
    • Zoom up to 6 times.
    • Heat Signature Filter, Biotech Filter, Energy Signature Filter.
    • Aim Assistance.


  • hope

    "The world is an ugly place. I would know, I see it first hand, every single day. Five years in the Force, practically a rookie, and yet you are so deep in the mud and shit and filth that no matter how you scrub you can't get the stink off yourself. The entire system is a rotting corpse in nice clothes, but I knew that before I joined, being raised by its Deputy Comissioner for 20 years. Some days I stand on the shoulder of Justice and see an imposter looking back at me. Some days it's her desecrated face, her eyes blinded and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Some days there's nothing at all. The world is an ugly, ugly place.

    But that doesn't have to be all it is. It shouldn't be. It's not. I don't know how I know. It's just a feeling, a warmth tugging my heart forward, keeping what little hope there's left in me burning. Maybe it's a lie, another one among my countless, an extra link in my chains. Maybe I have no choice but to believe, because the alternative is unacceptable. The truth is, I am a drowning man clutching at a blade of grass, at that fragile belief of a better day, knowing the grass would snap and my hope would shatter but I cling to it all the same. Stupid, isn't it? But it is my choice, the only choice that matters really, to believe that there is still goodness left in the world, that there’s a light out there somewhere beyound the darkness. Deep down I'm still that scared boy entangle in lies, too afraid to grow up, or face the truth.

    contemplation

    I spend a lot of my free time thinking. It's either that or waste away in VR, and I'm not sure there's enough of myself left to lose. In fact, I spend most of my time on duty thinking too, or more accurately second guessing everything I do. Old habit dies hard, I guess. Funny how I spend most of my life pretending to be my father, to make him proud, to make him look at me without disgust and loathing, only for him to die when I was so close to achieving it. The old bastard must be having a hell of a time laughing in the afterlife, his death a final revenge, against me, against the world. Going out with both of his middle fingers raised, that sounds like him.

    But what about me? Who am I now? I've been living the lie for so long, I don't know how to stop. Could I stop? Am I finally free of him now? I don't feel free. I don’t feel anything at all knowing he’s dead. I think I'm just a scared child who doesn't know how to grow up."

  • regret – mine, or his?
    “My father hated mistake. It’s what got him to Deputy Commissioner, I think. He could not tolerate mistakes in his friends, in his officers, in his family, and most of all in himself. And I was his biggest mistake, his walking vice.

    I’d like to think that it was whatever was left of his kindness took me in, but it was more likely shame. That’s what I see in his eyes when he looked at me those first few years I can remember, anyway. I didn’t know my mother, my father never talked about her and I never asked, but I suspect she was a lower class citizen, beautiful – my father wouldn’t go for anything less – and kind. Kind enough to make my father, the heartless man, love, kind enough to shame him. She saved me and I never even know her name. Those first few years he treated me like a job, like a favor he had to repay, tough but fair. Almost a real father.

    Then the shame faded, and all that was left was resentment. The past stopped hurting him, but I resembled my mother enough that it still stung. The beatings came, then, he pretended he was drunk those nights, but my father never drinks. It became almost like a twisted hobby for him, hitting me hard enough to burst my skin, and watched multicolored bruises spread. But not the face, not yet, he was still haunted by the past enough for that. Besides, there was the pretense of a good man to maintain.”

    the lies

    “The lies saved me. They started small, the usual lies that children tell to avoid getting in trouble, and in my case to give him less excuse to beat me with. But he didn’t need any excuse. I learned that quickly.

    Then my ability settled, and I learned to make fake bruises, less unmarked skin for him to hit, and away from where it really hurt. He never found out that a single deep cut is more agonizing than his hardest punch. But so what if I can direct his beatings? So what if he never figured out how to more efficiently hurt me? He didn’t slow, he didn’t stop, he didn’t even bothered with the pretense of drinking anymore. One of these days he was going to kill me, I realized. I could run, but he’d bring the entire police force on me, and seal my fate.

    So I crafted another lie, my biggest one, my worst one. I learned to be him. I learned how he walked, I learned how he talked, I learned his posture, his glare, his scowl. I had no clue what I was doing, but I pushed forward all the same, desperation and dread dogging my heels.

    I imagine it was quite a surprise for him, maybe even a shock, to be raising a fist against a small boy one moment and the next looking down at himself. The face was wrong, the features not rough enough, but it was his scowl, albeit marred by youthful defiance, his posture. His eyes. I saw in his face then something I never thought I would ever see; fear, and tenderness. I had been a reminder of his mistake and his shame, but from that moment onward I was something more. To him, at least, and that was all that mattered. The lies saved me.”

    how far will this road take me

    “I got really good at being him. I acted like him, walked like him, talked like him. I got it all down, except the confidence, the absolute self-assurance of a man who cannot be hurt. That was too far from who I am, too much of whom I have no intention of actually becoming. It’s just a lie, you see, a set of clothes, or more accurately an armor, against him, against the world. I am not my father. I am not my father.

    It was inevitable that I would enroll in the Academy, just as he did. Climbing from the lowest rank in the Force to his position of power, that was his biggest achievement, the foundation of his pride. I was retracing his footstep. But I’m not him. Never. Just a lie.

    The day I joined the Force was the day my Hell began. “The Deputy Commisioner’s son!” they said. Great things are expected of you. Great things. Horrible things. He’s just like his father. But I am not. I refuse to be. Just a lie. My father was surely smiling hearing these compliments. Was it a proud smile, or a sneer? I didn’t dare guess.

    The Police Force was rotten to the core, its oaths and codes of morality nothing more than mockery. I did horrible things, by doing nothing, only watched. Who am I kidding? I’d never thought I would uphold the code of duty, anyway. I knew long ago, such ideals have no place in this world. I told myself, I was a victim of circumstances, that deep down I was a good man, that the person who’s responsible, this person is not me. It’s a necessary lie for me to survive. This is not me, I am a good man. Just a lie.

    Five years in the Force, five years I fought those doubt and whisper of self-damnation at the back of my mind, until they were nearly gone. The day before I was to be offically promoted to Sergent, my father died of a stroke in his sleep.”

    who am I

    I have no idea. Is there anything left of me under these layers of lies I’ve woven so tightly around myself? My previous armor, now a suffocating mass, drowning my hope. The scared child inside, he never grew up.

Credit: I stole a bunch of code from Elle Joyner Elle Joyner and tidbits of style choices from the rest of the CS in this thread. I'm so sorry guys I don't know how to do BBCodes this took me 2 days to make T_T
 
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Red Thunder

A Warrior in a Garden
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both/Either
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
#9
•QUERY “mykill tawmuz” RECEIVED•
•SEARCHING•
•LOCATED•
•RETRIEVING SUBJECT FILE•
•RETRIEVING•
•POPULATING FIELDS•
[ADVISEMENT: CRIMINAL GANG MEMBER: AUGERS]
•SUBJECT•

Tawmuz, Mykill

•BIOMETRICS•
Male
36 years of age
12.31.????
6.01’ / 197 lbs
mohawk style brown hair / brown eye
eye glow white
lower class


•IDENTIFIABLE MARKINGS•
subject is broad shouldered and box-like in shape. subject is well muscled from life on the streets in [REDACTED]. subject habitually wears denim style clothing. subject has a piercing on the right earlobe. right side of the subject’s face is traced with unregulated augments: what appears to be a power unit is mounted above the right ear, and wiring traces the right side of the face. supposed power unit regularly glows at estimated 4000 lumens. unregulated augment mounted over subject’s right eye.
•POINTS OF INTEREST•
~attached interview excerpt courtesy of Sgt [REDACTED] of
[REDACTED] Police Department~

“It is regrettable that dossier is even being compiled. Who ever heard of a lower class citizen ever really getting out of easy management, let alone becoming the absolutely pain in my ass that he has? But what the hell.

“Mykill Tawmuz started off his illustrious career as a street tough, working for some hoodlum ghetto slumlord that no one ever bothered to keep a file on; his size helped with that. I guess it helped with the extra bills. Tawmuz was definitely not making enough smashing Packets together.

“Anyway, one day he went crossways with this slumlord. Rumor on the street is that Tawmuz fried his old boss’s central system; list of debts, stash houses, that kind of thing. Probably an accident, if you want my guess; it’d be a bad job to just screw your boss over for no apparent reason. Because yeah, far as we can tell, he didn’t have a good reason and bolted soon after.

“We’re not really sure where it is he went; I’d bet he figured out that he was a damned battery and wanted to see what it was all about. Anyway, he left when he was around 20 and started showing up again 7 years later. Brought a fair bit of old discarded tech with him, too. Started fixing it up and underselling the regulated dealers. Within four years, Tawmuz had carved himself a tiny damned empire. He’s hired thugs and toughs enough to make any low class do what he wants; hell, even some of our patrols boys don’t want anything to do with the Augers.

“Not that he’s easy to find. Hell, based on how glitchy a locate on the guy is, I’d bet he’s back feeding the Implant just enough to make it’s more processor heavy processes malfunction. Of course, now the bastard wants in on some new Thing. Some kind of luxury resort. I don’t give a shit. Whatever takes him out of my jurisdiction is fine the hell with me.”

•MODUS OPERANDI•
subject is known to be calculating and cautious. subject has also shown dangerous propensity for egotism, bordering on narcissistic personality disorder. subject has stated that subject likes a challenge but will rarely attempt one without a clear benefit to him, regardless of outcome. subject has been shown to be utilitarian toward interpersonal relationships. because of this, subject is seen by the low class as fair; subject does not give handouts but will not turn away legitimate skill. subject concurrently finds accepting handouts outright unacceptable and will always seek to earn or payback a favor.
•POWERS•
~attached excerpt courtesy of Dr. [REDACTED], PhD in Criminal Psychology and author of Finding Use in an Unusual Power~
“Mykill is a rather interesting fellow. He’s very devoted, you know. All the tests have shown that. It’s so intriguing; his behavior clearly shows- Hm? Oh, right. You want to hear about the Auger’s powers. That’s the only thing you people care about: what can they do. It’s never ‘why do they do it that way?’ I should never have written that damned book.

“Anyway, since you’re so insistent. Mykill seems to possess a significant flow of electrons from his body, far greater than the average human. It appears at its core that Mykill uses it for rout tech repair. It’s easy enough to track down a piece of tech or something when it’s plugged in, yes? Not so easy when it’s remotely powered like that. Moreover, it looks like he’s able to do that with pretty well anything that has some conductive material he can touch. Even if it’s a stray wire. And of course, if he can power it, he can overload it. Though I’m not terribly sure why he’d ever want to do that.

“Of course, there’s also the issue of that errant electricity simply filtering off him. Ever touch metal on a very cold day? Imagine that happening all the time. Static electricity is nothing fun. I’m guessing that’s why he wears that glowing augment on his head; it probably filters off the static.

“But all that electron production can work in his favor. Because of his body’s natural resistance to larger amounts of electricity, as well as its apparent conductivity, he can actually filter electrons from the air to power something too big for him to do so naturally. It’d take time, of course, but think of the possibilities if he had the time!

“Offensively, there is actually not much he can likely do. Sure, a static charge is going to hurt, and I suppose that holding someone while releasing his static buildup would probably do some minor damage, but unless he takes the time to channel electrons into someone from some other source, his power is more utilitarian than offensive.”

•AUGMENTATIONS•
subject wears a device on the right side of subject’s head to collect and disperse static electricity from the body. from this augment, connections branch out across the right side of the face and across the forehead to increase collection efficientcy. subject also wears an augment over the right eye. analysis has determined that it has image enhancement, ultraviolet light, heat signature, and night vision capabilities. subject’s heart is biomechanic, replaced due to innate static electricity in the body causing issues maintaining a steady heartbeat. heart augment allows for great cardio system efficiency, in turn allowing for minorly enhanced resistance to toxins and better oxygenation of the body.
•END SUBJECT FILE•
 
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Bears

*grumbles in gay*
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day
My Usual Online Time
I'm usually on during early morning and late evening.
Writing Levels
Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm flexible. If you need me to be aggressive I don't mind but at the same time I'm totally cool just chillin.
Favorite Genres
Romance is definitely up there. I'm generally open minded though.
Genre You DON'T Like
I'm not particularly keen on anything anime related, to be completely honest.
#10

  
GENERAL
NAME: Tiffannie La Croix
AGE: 26
SEX: Female
D.O.B: June 30
Class: Lower

APPEARANCE
HEIGHT: 5'9
WEIGHT: 167lb
HAIR: Tiffannie's hair is and has always been cut short. She's a natural blonde, but while charged the color shifts into whatever hue of neon she absorbs the most of.

WRITTEN DESCRIPTION: Tiffannie is a distinct woman who's intense gaze and unforgiving demeanor lends itself to an all around intimidating image. Her body is lithe and athletic, years on the street having granted her such an asset, and she dresses sharply while balancing both tight and loose article of stylized clothing.

Alongside her younger twin sister, Tiffannie's appearance is directly affected by how much neon she has stored. The more gas they absorb the more they grow into an image fitting of their adolescent titles as the Neon Demons. Their hair, lips, and eyes are the most distinct changes--all three growing into bright and jarring shades of color. The effect spills out into their clothes and, at times, the things that they touch.

BIOGRAPHY
PERSONALITY: Tiffannie La Croix remains a rather gifted mind underneath all her sass and problem with authority. She's a quick thinker and outspoken when it comes to sharing her ideas. Her upbringing on the streets of Takym and her time in the Cartel has made her weary of the world and sardonic towards all the misfortunes and craziness it has thrown at her so far. Her protective nature over her younger sister hasn't changed and won't anytime soon, but Tiffannie no longer feels the desperate need for adrenaline and the neon high that plagued her when they were just on the cusp of their twenties.

BACKSTORY: Tiffannie and Allison La Croix were always meant to be somebody. They never knew their mother, only a rumor that they had come out neon colored and were tossed out of fear or perhaps even distaste. They spent time bouncing around the lower class orphanages of Takym until they decided that a conventional kind of life was not for them. They ran away and took to the streets, thieving and scamming in order to survive.

They developed their powers and due to the rather distinct and unforgettable nature of neon, they slowly built up a reputation as they grew into teens. Tiff and Allie became a rather notorious duo, known as the Neon Sisters, and were infamous for their quick hit and run style thievery. They made plenty of friends along the way, but never trusted anyone but each other, and for awhile things seemed good. They found themselves presented with a job that would set them up for life and deciding it was worth the risk, they set out to complete it.

The heist was nearly perfect, at least until it was revealed that the bank they were raiding was actually a front for a crime syndicate known as the Cartel, and suddenly the delinquents found themselves on the losing end of a set up. They found themselves at the mercy of the man who had it all orchestrated--Sebastyan Klaus. Incredibly intelligent, augmented and charming he lead the syndicate they were trying to rob and surprised the both of them when he presented an offer rather than a shot through the head.

The offer was simple: their lives in exchange for their abilities.

Tiff and Allie were far from happy at the thought but both figured that indentured servitude was better than outright execution. They joined the Cartel and were once again surprised when they found themselves treated like genuine new members rather than slaves. Sebastyan surrounded them with friendly faces and slowly groomed them into becoming two of his most capable tools. He took specific interest in Tiffannie, becoming both her first lover and later, her first heartbreak. Beyond that he had the both of them trained and expanded their arsenal of skills, leading the two sisters to differentiate their abilities by having them focus on different ways to apply their powers.

Tiff and Allie grew during their time with the syndicate, adopting the title of Neon Demons as Sebastyan led the both of them down a darker path. Tiffannie found herself slowly getting hooked on the high of her powers and even more so to the ecstasy that Sebastyan gave her. She was quickly approaching the point of no return but it was Allie that pulled her back.

A job had gone terribly wrong and someone had to pay the price. Sebastyan decided that both of the sisters were too valuable to kill, so he directed his retribution to one of the friendly faces he had assigned to them since the very beginning. Ahrce, Allie's lover. Both sisters watched as the goodhearted man was executed and Allie's hurt opened Tiff's eyes to just how depraved she had become.

They escaped, took what money they could, and refused to look back. They disappeared deeper into Takym, refraining from using their powers and dealing with the subsequent withdrawals to their neon addiction together. Now grown, the Neon Sisters are weary and live life a lot more carefully than their wild younger years but remain as sassy and snide as ever.

To Tiffannie, entering Sanctuary feels a lot like it did when they first met Sebastyan, but just like then they have no other choice.

POWERS AND AUGMENTS
POWERS: Tiffannie is capable of manipulating and absorbing neon gas. The actual process of taking neon, often referred to by her and her sister as charging, is fast and painless. When expending gathered neon through their abilities both sisters feel a high similar to that of speed. Their dependency on such a feeling has dwindled with maturity, but time has only made them all the more wiser when it comes to how they use their power.

Since youth both sisters were capable of transforming into neon light forms, gaining super speed for short bursts at a time and shooting neon bolts from their fingers. Their powers have never been subtle but they certainly are a spectacle. Over the years they have come to refine both of their core abilities and even specialized down separate neon-powered paths.

Specific to Tiffannie is the ability to create stasis fields of neon gas that protect her from physical harm. She's the Neon Sister that prefers combat up close and personal, using her light form to quickly reposition and incite beautifully bright chaos during fights. Her katana, a treasured gift from a bad romance, is made all the more deadlier by a thin but effective coating of neon along its edge, and is her bread and butter when it comes to combat.

AUGMENTATIONS: Tiffannie has no substantial augmentations. Ever since her first boyfriend she's always found herself put off by them.
 
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Aero Blue

he hears his master's voice
Undiscombothrottled Shige
Posting Speed
One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
5-11 EST weekdays, anytime weekends.
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept, Advanced, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Switches have more fun
Favorite Genres
Superhero, urban fantasy, space opera, crime thriller, supernatural
#11

Vitals Profile Biography Powers and Augments


  • basic
    Name: Moll Rokard
    Nickname: (Captain) Rok-Steady
    Age: 31
    Sex: Female
    Date of Birth: October 1
    Class: Upper

    appearance
    Height: 6’4”
    Weight:181lbs
    Hair: Pink (Dyed), Black (Natural). Long, aggressively askew.
    Eyes: Blue
    Glow: Cobalt Blue

    Tall, broad-shouldered and thin-waisted, Moll Rokard is powerfully, even efficiently, built of compact, muscular strength and impressive presence. There is natural power to her, although her comportment and stature have seemingly diminished from the pinnacle of her athletic career. On closer inspection, she seems to lack comfort in her powerful form, fidgeting intermittently, and slouching ever so slightly at times.

    Her features are naturally sharp, high cheekbones and pointed nose captured prominently within a powerful jawline. Again, there is a disconnect between her expression and her features - her visage seems to settle into a look that resembles stoic contempt, but flickers with expressions of some anxious calculation, as if she actively reminds herself to look less stand-offish and threatening.

    Her everyday attire is typically innocuous, preferring mono-color pieces without any particularly showy patterns or designs.

    Character Appearance Link. Image credit goes to zippo514.
  • personality
    The great Captain Rok-Steady was remembered fondly as a competitor in the arena, steadfast, tenacious, with bulldog-like resolve augmented by a clever resourcefulness. Highly critical towards agents - whom she had regarded as ‘predatory’ - and amicable towards her fandom, she was known as loudly-spoken (and sometimes colorful to the point of obscene) by both parties. Brimming with an eternal confidence, she was a fighter until her very last game.


    Pictured: Limited Edition Captain Rokard Holocard. Image Link. Credit to Monori Rogue.​

    But Moll Rokard doesn’t remember much of that. Moll Rokard would consider herself to be an every-person, just trying to gleam some sort of meaning in the day-to-day life of an upper-class citizen. Well-mannered, cordial, soft-spoken, and even awkward, her demeanor is barely reminiscent of who she once was. Indeed, there is an almost robotic aspect to her behavior - perhaps even amoebic, absorbing and imitating social cues around her in an effort to ‘fit in’.

    Still, it’s not as if she can just shed her past life completely. Still making decas off of her former career, she bears a degree of shame in making currency off of efforts she can’t remember exerting, a sadness in not being able to feel the joy in ‘deserving it’. Unable to remember her past life as an athlete (refer to Biography), there is an uncomfortability to it all.

    Which is a shame, since she’s the one who had the Mnemosyde done to begin with.
  • “I’m the greatest in the world! Greatest in the world, baby!”

    Sixteen legendary seasons for the Fulcrum. Two-thousand and ninety breathtaking scores, three-thousand and ninety-three stupendous assists, seven-hundred and twenty-nine earth-shattering blocks, and eight-hundred and fifty-two cunning interceptions to remember her by, all reviewable in glorious holovid. Youngest player of all-time at the age of thirteen, youngest league MVP at the age of fifteen, six-time Defensive Stalwart of the Year, two-time Offensive Star of the Year, nine-time All-League First Team Selection, six-time League Champion, and the most prolific assist-playmaker in Aug-Ball history.

    Moll Rokard. Captain Rok-Steady. Champion, leader, legend. Considered by some to be amongst the pantheon of greatest sports competitors in world history. Considered by others as the most wasted talent in Aug-Ball.

    Aug-Ball: a spectacle sport that encapsulates one of the most primitive, elemental objectives of all; putting the motherfucking ball through a hole and then screaming about it overmuch. Played in glorious chrome coliseums for the viewing pleasure of the lower, upper and elite-class folk alike. As much a display of athletics as it is a demonstrative gallery for aug-geeks, twenty-two men and women (eleven on each team) don the showpiece-augs of their sponsors in grueling competition.”

    While the saying is perhaps trite and overwrought, it was Rokard’s destiny to be the star-athlete, courtesy of predictive biometrics. Aug-Ball scouts and agents had set their eyes upon the star-in-making since before she had even left the womb. An exorbitant sum of decas into the accounts of her family, and she was ordained. Conditioned and almost bred like old-world livestock from her first breath, entered into grueling regimen from her first step. Rokard breathed Aug-Ball, reshaped herself as an emblem of it, woman of steel and wonder.

    And Aug-Ball was kind to her in turn, rendering her an icon in a world of peons. Star-player of the Fulcrum, Rookie of the Year, consensus future-best-player, with all the rewards that came with it. Decas and vice. Recognition in a world that revolved around so few faces, and being exploited for it. Heightened expectations, and the numbing ritualistic regimens to live up to them. And worst of all, them. Agents, sponsors, aug-makers, and all their cloying ‘affections’. The claustrophobic anxiety she felt when they approached with all their far-too-wide smiles. But she loved the game all the same, conditioned or otherwise.

    She was twenty when she won her sixth and final championship, and on the night of her victory she spoke defiantly through the holovid: no more agents, no more sponsors, no more cloying aug-makers. She breathed Aug-Ball, not this… elite corporate nonsense. She was the six-time champion, greatest player in the league, and she would take in what she loved, and cast out the rest.

    What she failed to realize was that Aug-Ball encapsulated more than just the game. Failed to realize that the game extended beyond the coliseum of chrome. Failed to realize that the game was the elite, the game was the corporate grip, and Aug-Ball was big business, specially curated by those who belonged to the one percent. Her former agents and sponsors promoted other burgeoning stars. Her fiercest competitors received the state-of-the-art upgrades that were once reserved for her.

    And so the game passed her by. At the end of her sixteenth season, Captain Rok-Steady - the diminished leader of a now mediocre squad - was cut from the Fulcrum, forcing the end of her career.

    Retirement was cruel to Rokard. She had devoted her entire life and body to the sport, only to realize it belonged to someone else. She had been a warrior, steadfast and storied, and now she was nothing. She had lived for the visceral, elemental clash of body on body, the familiar ache where the augment greeted the flesh, the raucous screaming from the crowd, the cerebral intensity of picking the perfect pass from amidst a maelstrom of titans - and now they were gone.

    And so Moll Rokard, six-time champion, allowed herself one last augment. One that would let her forget the excruciating minutiae of her life and love, and the pain of having lost it.

    Her invitation came days later.
  • power-trippin'
    The Twelfth-Man
       Used to devastating effect during her playing career, Rokard has the ability to manifest a duplicate of herself - incredibly effective in the arena thanks to effectively adding a player on-field.

    Functionality
    • Manifests a true-to-form copy of herself a short-to-medium distance away.
    • Rokard is able to at-will switch between occupying the copy or her original self.

    Limits
    • Rokard is not able to simultaneously control (or perceive from the perspective of) both the copy and her original self.
    • Technological augments and carried items are not copied - the copy is as if Rokard pre-augment.
    • Copy lasts for up to a minute before vanishing (dissipates into an ethereal dust), shunting Rokard to the original body automatically (also occurs when the body is functionally rendered unconscious). Requires a period of around five minutes 'cool-down' before generating another.

    and aug-ballin’
    Leg Augment, ‘Octo-Mama’
      Notable amongst Aug-Ball historians for being Moll Rokard’s final augmentation, and first ‘big-time’ non-sponsored installation. Having been essentially blackballed by the finest aug-makers, ‘Octo-Mama’ was an installation of ‘high risk, high reward’; a potentially gamechanging augment created by a virtually unknown mechanic.

    The ‘Octo-Mama’ was a full replacement for Moll’s legs, designed to increase breadth of mobility.

    Functionality:
    • At base level, legs are high-grade, competition-ready, both being of steel constitution and yet engineered to retain flexibility and mobility.
    • Each leg splits into four separate tendrils, eight total (hence the moniker). Neurally linked, Moll is able to seamlessly control the eight tendrils for purposes of manipulation. Blessed with incredible grip strength, each tendril functionally operated at peak human limb capacity, yet were designed for a higher degree of flexibility.
    • Suction function allows tendrils to cling to flat surfaces indefinitely.

    Limits:
    • Extended control prone to causing sensory overload (consequences of which vary from intense headaches, disorientation, to loss of control). Octo-Mama intended to be used in short bursts (of around ten second intervals, with a half-minute give or take of cooldown).

    Arm Augment, ‘BFA’
      The sole augment to stay with Moll from her first days in the sport to her retirement, and thus iconic in this regard. Lauded both for its simplicity and its effectiveness, it is a full replacement for each of Moll’s arms.

    Functionality:
    • Cleverly installed metal parts can be powered up and unravelled from within Moll’s prosthetic arms, forming an oversized gauntlet over hand and forearm at a moment’s notice.

    Limits:
    • Naturally, fine articulation is rather impossible when activated.
    • Usage is highly draining. Similar to Octo-Mama, intended to be used in short bursts with similar intervals.

    Mind Augment, 'Mnemosyde'
      A rather intricately installed lattice-network of chips and motes in Moll’s head. Functionally, intended to repress memories and associated feelings, while also attempting to kickstart the genesis of understanding and accepting an existence free of those memories.

    Highly unrefined, prone to ‘leakage’ of emotion, personality and memory, depression, feelings that resemble being out-of-body, out-of-place and out-of-mind, and - predictably - loss of identity.
 
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Effervescent

Rests Chin In Hands
#12
Kol Obyran​
[accordion=90%|bcenter]
{slide=I N F O R M A T I O N|center}Full Name || Kol Obyran
Age || Thirty-Seven
Sex || Male
DOB || July 21
Class ||Lower

  
APPEARANCE

  
Kol is a rather spindly fellow whose height only furthers the stretch of his physique. Thank goodness fashion is less lenient in its eccentric nature, for his long limbs could often find it difficult to be fully covered when intended. His head sports thick brown locks in disarray, often pushed to the side in hopes to appear more refined than his status would suggest and peppering with strands of grey. Stubble shadows his jawline, a bit of a pout to his thin lips that naturally find itself resting at a slight smirk to reflect his general mirth. He has a rather large nose that sits crooked on his face due to nothing but genetics. Low brows loom over sunken brown eyes with a bit of vibrancy to accentuate his usual optimistic demeanor.

Height || 6’5"
Weight 189lbs
Eye Color || Brown
Glow || Cyan
Hair Color || Chestnut Brown, graying slightly
Build || Lean
{/slide}
{slide=T R A I T S |center}
PERSONALITY

  
SELFLESS OPTIMIST SYMPATHETIC KNIGHTLY

A life of simple things had always been enough for Kol. He cherishes the happy and remembers the bad only because he believes every memory deserves to be remembered, for some of the best lessons can be learned in the most trying of times. He believes in God as the highest power even though the world is faced with godlike beings as a majority. Everyone deserves a chance, and he finds himself an advocate to aid those in need even if it means the sacrifice of his own well being. He sees hope in the darkest of places and thinks of life with optimism, though never veiled in false hopes or delusions. He is sympathetic to those who need to catch a break in life or have a rough go, often lending a hand where he can when he can for the betterment of someone’s day or demeanor. He doesn’t fancy himself the cure for anyone’s sorrow and doesn’t feel he needs to fix people or situations, rather taking the stance of a person in the background. Respect and kindness are traits he values and would never wish to do the opposite.{/slide}
{slide=B I O G R A P H Y|center}Looking back on his life, Kol would without a doubt say he has lived a good and privileged life despite being lower caste. He grew up in a community possibly older than Takym nestled within the mountains where most everyone was friendly. Their impoverished living only bolstered their comradery as they sought to improve their community in any way they possibly could. This cultivated Kol’s character from a very young age as this allowed him to see little rays of sunshine in an otherwise dreary life.

Factory work was the prominent source of income for their little mountainside community, which inevitably forced Kol into work at a very young age. The community church became the children’s sanctuary after hours when their parents could not afford to look after them or feed them. Having the standard implant allowed him to learn how to read and write, but all other lessons were taught by volunteers in the church after work hours.

It wasn’t the most ideal life, but it taught Kol how to make do with what he had. As he grew older, he still kept his factory job, but took up the mantle as a volunteer teacher for the children when he could. This is where Kol met FE Laumarau, a traveling medical doctor who stopped at his community to administer vaccines and provide care. She was only in town for a month, but in that month she took up shop in the church and patched up a lot of the children while he taught. They kept in touch even after she had to leave, and eventually she came back around to his community just to go on a date.

It was difficult to have a semi long distance relationship, but it made the time together all the more special. During their second year of courtship, Kol fell very ill and became unable to work due to a rapidly developing heart condition. FE took an extended leave to help Kol find a way to get back to where he could work again since it was his only source of income, but he would need a new heart.

The community and FE pooled together what they could spare of their money or resources to help get Kol a synthetic heart. It took a significant time to heal, but eventually Kol was able to return to work in the best condition without a hitch.

When FE came through again for his 23rd birthday, Kol popped the question, and the two were engaged. Unfortunately, soon after her life was taken in a car accident leaving Kol, and the community, grieving for her loss for years. One of the pews in the church commemorates her deeds.

It’s been quite some time since the passing of his fiancé. The memory of her is still fond and no longer stings, and his faith has allowed him to find the happiness in life once again.

Unexpectedly, Kol received an invitation to meet with FE’s father nearly a decade after her passing. It was the first time they ever met, and the first time Kol had ever been around an Upper Class society. It was strange, awkward, and stiff, but her father greeted him warmly, and they met with each other on more than the first occasion. His connection with FE’s father eventually landed him the opportunity to preside in Sanctuary.{/slide}
{slide=P O W E R S and A U G M E N T S|center}
<<Rewind
Kol can manipulate space and time within the span of a fraction of a moment at the very most, only able to work backwards in the spectrum. It takes a considerable amount of energy to rewind even a second into the past, requiring intense concentration and focus in channelling the ability. It is not carried out in an instant, and instead takes quite a considerable amount of relative time for Kol. The longer span of time rewound, the more Kol will find himself fatigued and drained of energy, often resulting in migraines. The payoff, however, allows him to correct mishaps or split-second mistakes.

The reason that this ability involves both space and time is due to the fact that Kol essentially warps reality through the reversal of the cone of light. He remains within his own sphere of reality as time is turned around him. This means, to make it simple, the entire universe is set back in seconds while he is a type of singularity.

One may be able to note when Kol has reversed time. While it may appear as though nothing has changed, Kol might look to “glitch” or “twitch” as his body may have started out in one position and then immediately jolt to another pose, or possibly a step or two in another direction. It is unavoidable on his end due to the mechanics of his ability, and it can be an advantage to those paying attention.

Since he can only rewind a few seconds, this ability cannot he used to alter anything major, especially if it requires more time to change the outcome. It’s useful for smaller things like simple mistakes or split-second happenings, which requires him to be quite aware of his surroundings in general.​
>>​

Augments
Kol’s augments include the standard implant and a synthetic heart. The heart functions as a normal heart would, though can withstand stress to better degrees, albeit minor by comparison to a natural heart.​
{/slide}
{/slide}
[/accordion]
 
Last edited:

Madman in The Attic

Comes in a Little Glass Vial
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Aggressive (with exceptions)
Favorite Genres
Science Fiction, Dystopia, Political, Political Fantasy, Character Studies, Horror, Psychological, Thriller, Corruption, Space, Cyberpunk, Gothic, Sci-Fi Military, Cyborgs, AI
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, Slice of Life, Urban Fantasy, Fandom
#13

Kol Obyran​

[accordion=bcenter]
{slide=I N F O R M A T I O N|center}Full Name || Kol Obyran
Age || Thirty-Seven
Sex || Male
DOB || July 21
Class ||Lower

  
APPEARANCE

  
Kol is a rather spindly fellow whose height only furthers the stretch of his physique. Thank goodness fashion is less lenient in its eccentric nature, for his long limbs could often find it difficult to be fully covered when intended. His head sports thick brown locks in disarray, often pushed to the side in hopes to appear more refined than his status would suggest and peppering with strands of grey. Stubble shadows his jawline, a bit of a pout to his thin lips that naturally find itself resting at a slight smirk to reflect his general mirth. He has a rather large nose that sits crooked on his face due to nothing but genetics. Low brows loom over sunken brown eyes with a bit of vibrancy to accentuate his usual optimistic demeanor.

Height || 6’5"
Weight 189lbs
Eye Color || Brown
Glow || Cyan
Hair Color || Chestnut Brown, graying slightly
Build || Lean
{/slide}
{slide=T R A I T S |center}
PERSONALITY

  
SELFLESS OPTIMIST SYMPATHETIC KNIGHTLY

A life of simple things had always been enough for Kol. He cherishes the happy and remembers the bad only because he believes every memory deserves to be remembered, for some of the best lessons can be learned in the most trying of times. He believes in God as the highest power even though the world is faced with godlike beings as a majority. Everyone deserves a chance, and he finds himself an advocate to aid those in need even if it means the sacrifice of his own well being. He sees hope in the darkest of places and thinks of life with optimism, though never veiled in false hopes or delusions. He is sympathetic to those who need to catch a break in life or have a rough go, often lending a hand where he can when he can for the betterment of someone’s day or demeanor. He doesn’t fancy himself the cure for anyone’s sorrow and doesn’t feel he needs to fix people or situations, rather taking the stance of a person in the background. Respect and kindness are traits he values and would never wish to do the opposite.{/slide}
{slide=B I O G R A P H Y|center}Looking back on his life, Kol would without a doubt say he has lived a good and privileged life despite being lower caste. He grew up in a community possibly older than Takym nestled within the mountains where most everyone was friendly. Their impoverished living only bolstered their comradery as they sought to improve their community in any way they possibly could. This cultivated Kol’s character from a very young age as this allowed him to see little rays of sunshine in an otherwise dreary life.

Factory work was the prominent source of income for their little mountainside community, which inevitably forced Kol into work at a very young age. The community church became the children’s sanctuary after hours when their parents could not afford to look after them or feed them. Having the standard implant allowed him to learn how to read and write, but all other lessons were taught by volunteers in the church after work hours.

It wasn’t the most ideal life, but it taught Kol how to make do with what he had. As he grew older, he still kept his factory job, but took up the mantle as a volunteer teacher for the children when he could. This is where Kol met FE Laumarau, a traveling medical doctor who stopped at his community to administer vaccines and provide care. She was only in town for a month, but in that month she took up shop in the church and patched up a lot of the children while he taught. They kept in touch even after she had to leave, and eventually she came back around to his community just to go on a date.

It was difficult to have a semi long distance relationship, but it made the time together all the more special. During their second year of courtship, Kol fell very ill and became unable to work due to a rapidly developing heart condition. FE took an extended leave to help Kol find a way to get back to where he could work again since it was his only source of income, but he would need a new heart.

The community and FE pooled together what they could spare of their money or resources to help get Kol a synthetic heart. It took a significant time to heal, but eventually Kol was able to return to work in the best condition without a hitch.

When FE came through again for his 23rd birthday, Kol popped the question, and the two were engaged. Unfortunately, soon after her life was taken in a car accident leaving Kol, and the community, grieving for her loss for years. One of the pews in the church commemorates her deeds.

It’s been quite some time since the passing of his fiancé. The memory of her is still fond and no longer stings, and his faith has allowed him to find the happiness in life once again.

Unexpectedly, Kol received an invitation to meet with FE’s father nearly a decade after her passing. It was the first time they ever met, and the first time Kol had ever been around an Upper Class society. It was strange, awkward, and stiff, but her father greeted him warmly, and they met with each other on more than the first occasion. His connection with FE’s father eventually landed him the opportunity to preside in Sanctuary.{/slide}
{slide=P O W E R S and A U G M E N T S|center}
<<Rewind
Kol can manipulate space and time within the span of a fraction of a moment at the very most, only able to work backwards in the spectrum. It takes a considerable amount of energy to rewind even a second into the past, requiring intense concentration and focus in channelling the ability. It is not carried out in an instant, and instead takes quite a considerable amount of relative time for Kol. The longer span of time rewound, the more Kol will find himself fatigued and drained of energy, often resulting in migraines. The payoff, however, allows him to correct mishaps or split-second mistakes.

The reason that this ability involves both space and time is due to the fact that Kol essentially warps reality through the reversal of the cone of light. He remains within his own sphere of reality as time is turned around him. This means, to make it simple, the entire universe is set back in seconds while he is a type of singularity.

One may be able to note when Kol has reversed time. While it may appear as though nothing has changed, Kol might look to “glitch” or “twitch” as his body may have started out in one position and then immediately jolt to another pose, or possibly a step or two in another direction. It is unavoidable on his end due to the mechanics of his ability, and it can be an advantage to those paying attention.

Since he can only rewind a few seconds, this ability cannot he used to alter anything major, especially if it requires more time to change the outcome. It’s useful for smaller things like simple mistakes or split-second happenings, which requires him to be quite aware of his surroundings in general.​
>>​

Augments
Kol’s augments include the standard implant and a synthetic heart. The heart functions as a normal heart would, though can withstand stress to better degrees, albeit minor by comparison to a natural heart.​
{/slide}
{/slide}
[/accordion]
*tries to contain DAVID TENANT screaming*
*fails*
 
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
During the day Mon-Fri Mountain Time
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
As a GM I am very 'aggressive' but when I am playing a role play someone else is running I tend to be whatever is needed.
Favorite Genres
I am very here-and-there on genre. One thing I do like to have in most role plays is some form of romance. I also prefer for a role play to have a rich backstory, like those found in fandom role plays. The most common genres, however, that I play are : Sci Fy, Magical, Fantasy, Suspense, and Romance.
Genre You DON'T Like
I don't like anything that's not focused on humans. I also prefer to play a character that is 18+ and out of High School.
#14
[fieldbox="General, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]Name: Eviigrande "Evie" Bochier (pronounced: Bo-sheer)
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Date of Birth: November 18
Class: Lower[/fieldbox][fieldbox="Appearance, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"] Height: 5'
Weight: 108
Hair: Thick brown and curly hair, usually tied back and dirty.
Written Appearance: Evie is a small and frail looking woman. She is obviously underweight, her arms and legs are slimmer than average and her face is thinner than one would expect from someone that young. Due to her height and weight, she is usually overlooked when walking on the streets, and the first to be chosen if someone is looking to mug someone.She doesn't have the money for expensive clothes but is sometimes given hand-me-downs from the upper class. What clothes she doesn't donate she keeps for herself, making her wardrobe of dresses oddly nice. Her hands are thin and overly calloused from a lifetime of hard work. Despite her appearance displaying obviously her low quality of life, Evie's green eyes are always bright and warm. [/fieldbox][fieldbox="Personality, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]Evie has a heart of gold and an unlimited amount of love to give. When talking to someone she is always smiling, and she loves to talk. An unwavering optimist, every conversation she has she brings a positive note to. She is just happy, something unwarranted in the lower class. She trusts people and believes in them, making her a little naive. She knows this, but would rather be hurt than lose her hope. Her hope is what gives her strength to work day in and day out, to go without dinner so homeless children have food, to repair the uniforms of workers who can't do it themselves, and to stand up for the little guy. She believes that true change doesn't come from the government, but that it comes from people. This attitude angers and annoys many of her fellow lower class citizens, and amuses the upper class people she works for, but despite it's polarizing effect Evie won't drop it. She's one kind act from changing the world, she just knows it.[/fieldbox][fieldbox="Backstory, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]
[spacer]Evie was born of two lower-class protestors, Yeolina Faou and Verri Bochier who found themselves 17 and pregnant on the streets of the city. Unable to risk incarceration Lina and Verri stopped being so reckless, but they never lost their enthusiasm for 'sticking it to the man'. They found a home, a 2 bedroom apartment with two other families (the Terrichee family of 5 and the Jowae family of 2), just in time for Evie. Despite having no blood siblings Evie grew up in a large family, everyone in the apartment took care of one another. This taught her to trust people, even when they were robbed or attacked on the streets, Evie could always count on the good of her family.[/spacer][spacer]She grew up hungry and cold, heat and food were expensive, but Evie was always grateful for what she had. In their street-level apartment, Evie could see firsthand the many homeless and scared. She spent her days, alongside the other children in the home, with Grandma Terrichee. Grandma Terrichee was very sick, but she took care of the 4 children as if she were as healthy as the upper class. What Evie lacked in formal education she made up for in 'street smarts' and frugality. Knowing how to read and write was more than enough when there were mouths to feed. Being the youngest left Evie to learn how to take care of the home while the others went off to work. Evie took especially well to sewing, repairing old clothes and creating new ones. Grandma Terrichee put her to work fixing up clothes, mostly uniforms of lower class factory workers who couldn't afford new ones. [/spacer][spacer]Though Evie never stopped helping her grandmother she had to start working at 12. Both of her parents had gone back to protesting more often, leaving them unemployable to people who didn't want the trouble. She got a job at a laundromat working as many hours as she could. She never blamed or felt resentment toward her parents because she knew that they were fighting for good, at 12 she still believed that the government was the key to change. [/spacer][spacer]That said, Evie's relationship with her parents was never particularly strong. By the time she was 14 her parents were almost always in hiding, staying away from the apartment they still called home so that they wouldn't get caught. As this got more and more frequent she rarely saw her parents, sometimes going a year without so much as a note. Her relationship with the Terrichee and Jowae family, however, only grew. They were her brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and grandmother. They never once thought of throwing her out.[/spacer][spacer]At 16 Grandma Terrichee died. She had long been sick, and no one was surprised. Near the end, Evie had spent every spare hour with her. The night before her death Grandma Terrichee gave Evie one last piece of advice, one that Evie took to heart. "In this world, they can take your home, your loved ones, your life... they can't take your hope. Your mom and dad are out there fighting, but the real good they do isn't with the government. They give us all hope, something that they can't tax or steal, something more important than air. You remember that when things get tough."[/spacer][spacer]Things did get tough. Thanks to the amount of time she'd had to take off to care for Grandma Terrichee, Evie lost her job at the laundromat. With her parents' reputation, it was impossible for her to get a traditional job, but she didn't give up hope. She managed to get by doing work repairing clothes, and by the time she was 22 she even had a few upper-class clients. (Though they never pay her near what she's worth, knowing that she doesn't have an option but to take what she can get.) It's not much, but she's gotten to a point that she can help out others occasionally (though it does often mean going without a meal). [/spacer][spacer]Things aren't the same as when she was a kid. She has no idea where her parents are, Aunt and Uncle Terrichee passed not long after Grandma Terrichee, and Aunt Jowae got arrested last spring. Some changes were good, Ophelia Terrichee (oldest of the children) married a chef and moved out a couple of years ago. The two bedroom apartment almost feels lonely with only Keller Jowae and Micholoe Terrichee alongside Evie. [/spacer]
[/fieldbox][fieldbox="Powers, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]enhanced vocal control
Evie has complete control over her vocal cords.
[/fieldbox]
[fieldbox="Pros and Cons, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]Pros:
  • She can sing really well
  • She's a really good liar (ie- "I have no idea where my parents are, officer.")
  • Dogs listen to her because she controls her tone very well
  • She can make just the right tone to help people feel better when hurt or scared (similar to a cats purr)
  • People tend to believe her because she always sounds honest
Cons:
  • Evie is especially prone to a sore throat
  • Though she has grown used to the more high pitched noises it has still lessoned her hearing capabilities over time, she is hard of hearing
  • When excited she sometimes gets high pitched on accident
  • She does hum when she is scared or hurt, which is annoying to people around her
[/fieldbox][fieldbox="Technological Augmentations/Glow, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]Evie isn't opposed to augmentations, half of everyone seems to have them, but she's just never seemed to have the money or the desire for something. She's thought about getting something for her ears but is sure she'd break any technology just like she broke her ears.

[bg=#FBE8E0; width:90px;border-radius:15px]Glow: Peach[/bg][/fieldbox][fieldbox="Stengths and Weaknesses, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]Strengths:[/fieldbox]
[fieldbox="Stengths and Weaknesses, #47423F, dashed, 10, Book Antiqua"]
  • Emotional endurance
  • Advanced sewing abilities
  • Hopefulness
  • Inspiration in others (who don't get annoyed with her)
Weaknesses:
  • Gullible/naieve
  • Physically weak and malnourished
  • Poor family reputation prevents traditional work
[/fieldbox]
[accordion=bcenter|80%]{slide=
OOC
|center}
I'm serious I'm so excited about this RP, it looks well thought out and amazing. I hope this character sheet is good, but I'll make any edits as needed. Thanks! :)
{/slide}[/accordion]
 
Last edited:

Pahn

Badass Bitch
ROLEPLAY DEPARTMENT
DONATING MEMBER
Cruel Mistress
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
Anytime, I have no life.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, Androgynous
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm fine with both, but I have hard time with others using my character(s) without my prior consent. If the other player is unsure, I will have more of an aggressive style.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, romance, slice of life, anti-hero stories, "you're our only hope", fandom non-canons, soft scifi, transhumanism, magical girls, horror, suspense / mystery, monster girls, fractured fairytales
Genre You DON'T Like
Roadtrip style, already-planned-out adventures, rigid GMs.
#15
HelloBeautifulChild HelloBeautifulChild I think anyone with a dark background can't see any of the text in your boxes D:
 
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
During the day Mon-Fri Mountain Time
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
As a GM I am very 'aggressive' but when I am playing a role play someone else is running I tend to be whatever is needed.
Favorite Genres
I am very here-and-there on genre. One thing I do like to have in most role plays is some form of romance. I also prefer for a role play to have a rich backstory, like those found in fandom role plays. The most common genres, however, that I play are : Sci Fy, Magical, Fantasy, Suspense, and Romance.
Genre You DON'T Like
I don't like anything that's not focused on humans. I also prefer to play a character that is 18+ and out of High School.
#16
HelloBeautifulChild HelloBeautifulChild I think anyone with a dark background can't see any of the text in your boxes D:
Shoot, let me fix that. Totally forgot you have to set the font color when you use backgrounds! Thanks for letting me know. :)

Update: Should be fixed now, 1:03MST
 

Sairento

-Not my art. Never my art. I can't art very well.-
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
GMT + 8:00, 17:00 - 21:00
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Mostly Passive
Favorite Genres
Mostly everything.
Genre You DON'T Like
Can't think of much. Really depends on who I'm writing with, to be fair.
#17

Fae Cie


Overview

Full Name: Fae Cie

Age: 19
Sex: Female
DOB: November 28th
Height: 5’6” | Weight: 49 kg

Hair: Black, Somewhat wild, just a bit longer than chin length, and unintentional neglect leaving the ends slightly frayed.

Written Appearance:
For Fae, unintentional neglect doesn't just reflect her frayed ends; it includes her entire appearance. Living in the lower class, the idea of 'luxury' wasn't ever well-known to her. Her clothes aren't fashionable; once mismatched and colourful jackets now all made grey and drab from years of wearing them. Not to mention oversized and layered to keep her warm, while also being just soft enough to sleep in without feel pain from its stiffness.

Under the oversized and baggy clothing, Fae's figure is quite thin. Not entirely a surprise, given her class. Wavering between the line of emaciated and underweight, it would be quite obvious if she wasn't always wearing such baggy clothing, her bones being subtly outlined from her malnutrition (ribs and hips mostly).

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily depending on how much care for her health is shown) her thin stature isn't reflected in a defined manner on her face. Underneath a little dirt and grime, Fae's actually quite attractive, with a classic nose and other defining traits.

[accordion=100%]
{slide=
personality
}
Fae's normal. Or as normal as they come. She's probably a good deal smarter than those around her (say what you will, but being able to piggy-back off some rich kid to get free education is a very efficient use of a power), but she doesn't let that get to her. If she were any less kind, she'd probably become some arrogant ass who'd look down on the others in her neighbourhood. Instead, she took it upon herself to teach them a little about what she learned.

For Fae, she lives for the sake of others. It doesn't mean she's the self-sacrifice sort, nor that she doesn't have interests or self-worth. But it is easier to motivate herself to complete tasks if she has someone relying on her. Family, friends, anything that matters to her. Such is part of the reason she's become a reasonably successful in helping run her family's mercantile business. What do they sell? Well, anything really. The quality of what they sell isn't amazing, but there's always a good variety.

Plus
Kind
Honest
Giving

Negative
Trusts Easily
Bad liar
{/slide}[/accordion][accordion=100%]
{slide=
biography
}
Fae's story is one that is rather cheerful and happy, contrasting to her lower-class life. Until her powers really manifested themselves (and she learned to control it well enough), she was, of course, just another lower class kid. Well, merchant-kid, of a long line of merchant family. Her days were spent trying to help her family's store, taking care of her siblings while her parents worked and…surviving.

After her powers came in though, she began to thrive.

Perhaps the biggest gift she got from her powers was 'education'. She found a few hours in her day to just sit down, close her eyes, and entirely sink herself into her powers, jumping from one person to the next until she found herself in an upper-class student's body. She couldn't learn everything. Not even close. Comparatively, her skills probably would barely scrape by as 'average' in the daily working force. However, the things she learned were still useful. How to create simple gene mods, basic first aid (actually questionable in how useful it was, but it was still interesting to learn), and perhaps best of all, marketing.

After she turned twelve, she used what she understood and started making changes to the family business as best she could. She added gene mods at first (those were actually quite annoying to make, and she’d never reveal how she made them given that it would deeply hurt sales. Suffice to say that reusing things was something she became adept at), simple things that allows people to change their hair colour, their eye colour, maybe give those who were a little more...vertically challenged a boost. Simple sorts of appearance mods that could be sold cheap, but were usually made on request, given that she was the one producer and supplies were always hard to come by.

As she grew older, she learned and managed more skills, creating appealing advertisements and spreading the news of the store. Now, at 19, constant application of her skills have made her a bit of a savant of a merchant, and she's just about taken over the family business, always finding creative compromises to her customer's requests and being a general cheerful part of the community.

Her invitation came as a sort of 'job request'. Stores couldn't all be run by robots, after all; the human touch was always key to making businesses bloom. A dividend of her sales going back to her family was all she needed to seal the deal.
{/slide}
[/accordion][accordion=100%]
{slide=
powers
}
Powers: Piggy-Back. Red-gold glow.

Begin 'Piggy back'ing onto someone else's senses (sight, hearing, smell etc.) within 1 kilometer. After a link is established, the target can move out of the 1 kilometer range. They will not be aware of the piggyback. While piggy-backing, any wounds will also be transferred back to Fae. Does not require line of sight, and can piggy-back from the target to others as long as also within 1 kilometer of the current target. 1 kilometer range does not apply when ending piggy-back.

Limits
-Cannot piggy-back non-living beings or creatures.
-Cannot control the target while piggy-backing
-Range between piggy-backs is 1 kilometer

Technological Augmentations:
Tech Additive - Power Adjustment
-Fae can now move while using piggy-back, but her senses split. For example, one eye would be seeing what her piggy backing target would see, and the other would be what she herself sees.
-It also limits the glow to her left eye
{/slide}
[/accordion]

 
Last edited:

The_J

I'm trying, damn it
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Unsure
Favorite Genres
Superhero, medieval fantasy, supernatural, modern fantasy
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#18

General
Name: Lars Samson
Age: 22
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: 21st March
Class: Lower


Appearance
Height: 5'11"

Weight: 95kg

Hair: Brown, curly and short. Kept pretty messy.
Written Appearance: Lars is a somewhat strong-looking guy, broad-shouldered with good muscle definition, and he didn't skip leg day either. He tends to wear simpler clothing, such as t-shirts and jeans with a thick jacket.


The Juicy Stuff

Personality: Lars is someone you'd want on your side, but wouldn't want to cross. He's intensely loyal - to a fault - to those he considers friends. If you're on his team, he'll respect you, try and help you out when you need it, stand up for you, even protect you physically if he has to.
The other side of the coin, however, is how he treats those he dislikes. He's very willing to get verbal with them, tell them just how he feels about them and what they do or did. Forgiving and forgetting are not two things he's very predisposed to, even for smaller transgressions. It doesn't take too much to go from a friend or even neutral to this - it'd be enough to start shit talking a friend of his and refuse to apologise for it.
Lars is a bit of an introvert, so he enjoys spending a fair amount of time alone. Of course, he enjoys the company of friends, but he needs time to recharge, and being alone to watch a movie, play a video game or chill to music does exactly that. In a similar vein, he values his independence, enjoying having a job or other work to do to help him exercise what independence he does have.

Backstory: Lars was brought up in the household of two parents heavily outnumbered by their six kids. His mother and father didn't have time to really take care of all of them, what with both of them working full-time. As such, the older two kids would be left to raise their younger siblings, and they'd have to grow up fast. This included Lars, being the second-oldest after one of his sisters, and he did an alright job. None of the younger kids had many unusual issues, but his older sister had somewhat of a hate of Lars. She was jealous of how strong his power was, how he did a little better than her in school and work, of how even their siblings preferred Lars over her. She had once been the oldest, therefore, the best, but he came in like a usurper to her throne.
The conflict between the two of them came to a head when she tried to fight him with her power, but ended up losing the fight. Lars, however, lost the war there and then, when the whole family took her side after seeing how Lars had beaten her. He came to understand how little he was wanted now, and soon enough managed to move out on his own to a cheap flat with a good enough job, using his incredibly useful power to transport massively heavy loads short distances without breaking a sweat.
When the invite to Sanctuary came from Lyris Matrikt, he leapt at the chance. He'd be used there in a similar way, working with both robotic and human construction crews. A robot might be able to carry as much as it needed to, but it might have to be the size of a lorry, whereas Lars would be just the size of a normal human, need no maintenance, and would strengthen whatever he was holding whilst it was in transit. A valuable asset in such a place for sure.


The Juicier Stuff
Powers: Lars has the power to lift practically anything that isn't held down. It works by shifting his hands into an ethereal white state, and then he can insert them into an object of his choosing. If a hand exits the state whilst in an object, it will let Lars lift said object as if it was practically massless - he can swing cars around like a pebble. The object will also be reinforced, becoming covered in a glowing white grid pattern to become several times stronger.
The power is also useful for holding onto things, such as climbing up a wall by inserting one's hands into it and using the power to grip on.

Technological Augmentations: Outside of the standard implant, Lars only has an inner-ear chip that boosts his sense of balance, helping him with his job carrying heavy and often valuable objects - his power can only compensate for so much damage.

Glow: White
 

winnie

Protesting summer
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Favorite Genres
fandom, slice of life, modern, fantasy
Genre You DON'T Like
sci fi, anime, anything smut heavy
#19
"I've got my own back."

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"the best thing about pain is that it tells you you're not dead yet."
 
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CloudyBlueDay

obvious cryptic
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
#20
"I've got my own back."

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"the best thing about pain is that it tells you you're not dead yet."
Hi, I can't see any of your text, it's black on black!