The Regulars (Sign up and OOC)

[baker ramsey]

Premise
Down at Sunny Sam's Pub, things are far from cheerful. Built in a former bustling part of downtown Seattle, the establishment has slowly decayed into a cesspool of people lovingly referred to as "the regulars". Every night is the same: they walk in, blow whatever money they have on booze, and stumble drunkenly out while hoping they have enough for a taxi.

However, tonight will be a little different....

This RP takes place over a single night in a decrepit bar. When the thread ends, so does the day.

Rules
1. Follow all of the rules of Iwaku. Simple enough.
2. No god-modding or Mary Sue-ing. Considering your character is in a bar, it's hardly plausible that your character will be completely flawless, nor would they be able to control the actions of others.
3. Please post at least 2 sentences at a time. Who will type when will be decided once everyone signs up.
4. If you're going to be gone for a while, PM me and let me know. You can also post your absence on this thread so we can put your character on pause.
5. One character per person.
6. If your character drinks a lot during the course of the RP, they are expected to get drunk. To ensure this, there will be a "bar of sobriety". Your character starts at 100 and loses points with every drink; if they hit zero, they black out. The points of the drinks are as follows:

Water: +1 point (only counts when drunk)
Non-alcoholic drinks: 0 points
Beer: -10 points
Wine: -15 points
Cocktails: -20 points
Martinis: -25 points
Rum: -30 points
Whiskey: -35 points
Gin : -40 points
Vodka: -50 points​

7. Cussing is fine, fistfights are fine, but NO PULLING OUT WEAPONS. We won't deal with any shootings.
8. Enjoy yourself!

Slots
Regular 1- Barbara "Barbie" Horowitz (mod)
Regular 2- Hector Rivera (Ariel Lelani)
Regular 3- Claire "Nyx" Futori (Lucifers Sairen)
Regular 4- Officer Alexander "Alex" Bodega (Calconius)
Regular 5- Leon Hernandez (space case)
Regular 6- [open]
Bartender- [open]
New Visitor- Hector Rivera (Ariel Lelani)
New Visitor- [open]

Character Sheet Format
Name:
Gender:
Slot Taking:
Age:
Physical Description:
Personality: (please include what they're like sober AND drunk; this is a bar, after all, and there WILL be drinking)
Drink of Choice: (this actually says a lot about a person)
Why They're There: (Regulars can include why they stayed)
Writing Sample: (write 1-2 paragraphs about a day in the life of your character)
Text Color:

((I can't wait to get started!))

 

[baker ramsey]

Name: Barbara "Barbie" Fondaine

Gender: Female

Slot Taking: Regular 1

Age: 45

Physical Description: An aging pageant queen. Barbie is 5'10" in her 4 inch heels (which she always wears), and she always wears bright pink gloss on her over-plumped lips. Her hair is bleached blonde and curled into large sweeping waves, reminiscent of Farrah Fawcett. She has a thin waist and a bad boob job; she's all curves (even though half of those curves are silicone). She wears a nicely pressed blazer and pencil skirt and always tries to look nice, but her makeup is often far too heavy.

Personality: When sober, Barbie is very cheerful and has a Southern charm about her. She can be very sociable, but her happiness wears on people. It almost seems fake. When drunk, she lets out all of her feelings and spends a lot of time getting tears in her drink.

Drink of Choice: A Bacardi Mojito

Why They're There: After dropping out of high school to compete in pageants full time, she had to give up her crown due to a scandal she has never told anyone. Having missed her hey day and given up her future, she turned to drinking. Now, she spends her free time hosting child pageants of her own.

Writing Sample: Another day, another child.

Barbie watched as the little girl in front of her twirled and twinkled in her dress. The jewels gleamed off of the "spotlight", which was nothing more than a modified lamp. The island background curtain was falling off of its pole, and the hotel conference room seemed incredibly grey and dull. This was nothing more than a normal glitz pageant, something she had grown used to.

"And this," she cheerfully spoke through the microphone, "is contestant number 18, Anna Horowitz! She is 6 years old and has brown hair and blue eyes." Jesus, like it wasn't obvious enough already. Of course, she had to keep giving the spiel with every contestant. Barbie knew now what the days of an announcer was like; when she still did pageants, she never even had a glimmer of a thought of what they thought or how menial their job was. She wanted to apologize after all of those years.

The little girl walked off stage, only for another to come on again. This was going to be a long day.

Text Color: This obnoxious pink color

 

[Ariel Leilani]

WOW, this seems really cool! I hope my character is okay...

Name: Hector Rivera

Gender: Male

Slot Taking: New Visitor

Age: 31

Physical Description: Hector is muscular, that being because he played football all throughout high school. He has curly, dark brown hair with olive colored skin and green eyes and stands at roughly 6 feet. When he's at the bar, he wears a t-shirt and work pants with black sneakers.

Personality: He's a bit closed off at first, but after getting comfortable (and usually after he has a few drinks) he's a lot more open to conversation. But when he's drunk, he can become mean, cranky and moody after the "fun phase" is over.

Drink of Choice: Dirty Martini

Why They're There: Working in a kitchen all day is grueling and a good drink to start winding down before going home is just what he needs.

Writing Sample: This could not be any worse. Hector sighed as he tried to keep his composure. The dinner rush is insane. He was scrambling around the kitchen, making sure everything was in order and the food was up to par. "Come on, you guys! Don't start falling behind now!" He yelled to the cooks in the kitchen as he pulled up the sleeves of his chefs coat. He was sweating bullets and his skin was starting to feel as hot as the stove he was cooking on. He was pretty sure he could successfulmy fry an egg on his forehead. He was tired, his arms and legs were aching, and at this point if something goes wrong he might have a stroke and die. "Anyone know if there's a bar nearby? Because I be damned if I don't get a drink tonight." He shouted over the sounds of the kitchen, getting a laugh from some of the staff. Oh yes, Hector was definitely going to have a drink tonight...

Text Color: "Manly" Blue

 

[Sairen]

Name: Claire "Nyx" Futori

Gender: Female

Slot Taking: Regular

Age: 26

Physical Description: Messy brown hair that hangs a little above her shoulders. Nyx owns a wonderful pair of large chocolate chip brown eyes and a button nose with a slight point. she's only 5' 4" and a little on the scrawny side, sadly she doesn't really look her age. Nyx has been called a baby face since she still owns some chubby pinch-able cheeks. On her left arm is a few tattoos and she even has a few piercings on each ear. Her usual outfit consists of black and any accent color she wants. You'll never seen Nyx in a skirt only if she was on a date with a guy she liked but thats pretty rare.

Personality: On any given day she loves to interact with others and is usually tires to stay on a happier note. She would rather forget work an life and treat the moment as it is. A moment away from everything. But after a few good drinks in her things turn south. Nyx was known for her party like atmosphere and was quite flirtatious.

Drink of Choice: Whiskey neat

Why They're There: Nyx is a tattoo artist by trade and works at her father's shop. Why is this a horrible job you may ask. There's a sibling rivalry with her older brother who never really took tattooing seriously but believes he should own the shop when their father decides to retire. The yelling and screaming is enough to stress anyone out so drinks are needed.

Writing Sample: It was another day at the shop and Nyx just got finished with a traditional tattoo for a veteran. It was well done and even her father gave her a pat on the back for a job well done. "Just think 4 years ago you would have never done a tough piece of art like this!" Her father joked with a loud laugh. Nyx had really grew in her artistry and for it she was getting all of the praise, well most of it. Her brother Toni wasn't too thrilled and wasn't going to give praise for something she was paid to do. "Yeah 4 years ago doesn't seem that long ago. One good tattoo doesn't mean she's amazing. She's still the same baby Claire." Toni wasn't going to let anything down easy. Nyx didn't feel like startin' any trouble, usually it's a lot of yelling but as of now she was happy. No need to try and kill the mood with her sibling rivaling. After all there was one place to push all of her problems away, her favorite bar. "I need a drink tonight..."

Text Color: Mysterious Purple

 

[Calconius]

Name: Officer Alexander Bodega (Alex)

Gender: Male

Slot Taking: Regular

Age: 30

Physical Description: Alexander is fairly built but his diet does not lay in place well with his work out routine. He has mass and seems muscled enough, but he has no real definition thanks to the crap he eats. He is short for a guy, roughly 5'8 and has olive skin and a strong bridged nose. His jaw squares off rough into a constant beard, one that seems to only be barely shaved properly when it is cut. A stubble than spans his chin and upper lip really. His azure eyes contrast the rough look, but the bags underneath belie his real nature. Military buzz cuts are his preference, more because they're cheap and quick as opposed to anything else. Is rougher features make him look much odler than he really is.

Personality: Sober, Alexander is a by the books kind of guy. If there isn't a reason to talk, then he doesn't. Idle conversation bores him but thought provoking discussion keeps his attention enough to keep him talking. Otherwise he wears a perpetual smirk, but never really commits much to any particualr person. Some call his smile and speech "fake", a bit too prim for how rugged he seems. Like a toy soldier.
Drunk is a different story. He starts rather sociable, and is much more talktative. He's very flirty and often looks to ingrain himself into any conversations going on. He likes the attention then. But as he gets more drunk he begins to pull away more and more. Eventually, at his drunkest, Alexander sits quietly, staring deeply into his glass. He won't talk at all, nothing seems to shake him, and it's almost as if he forgets he's a cop and just lets the world catch fire around him. No fail, an hour after this stage he orders a Cuba Libra, guzzles it down, and goes home a thousand yard stare and sadness hanging in his eyes.

Drink of Choice: Sangre del Bacardi (Bloody Bacardi: 1/3 Raspberry cordial, 2/3 Bacardi Superior)

Why They're There: He drinks his days away, and although noone is sure what it is, he seems to be drinking away just a bit more than the stress from work.

Writing Sample: "Oh fuck you Lisa." The man's bald head seemed to be reflecting the shitty lighting right back into Alex's eyes. He winced just a bit but his cold stare kept on the man being handcuffed. His knee pressed hard against the prone man's back as he finally did the last latch of the cuffs. This was his third arrest, maybe. The first in which he had to subdue someone. Police work more consisted of papers than catching bad guys like he thought. Alex lifted the man up and researched the trailer again. Solo Heights Trailer Park was filled with these kind of wife beating assholes who couldn't afford a proper roof outside of the assistance of the state.

"Yea well fuck you too Martin!"

The woman's ragged orange hair and missing front tooth were enough to make Alex cringe his face, but he abided with simply walking the man out to the car. THe shiner on her left eye would be enough for her to file a sizable lawsuit against her husband. If she wanted. Which she wouldn't. These redneck types never left each other. Especially the meth addled ones like this ceremonious duo. Alex sighed. Was this what being a good guy felt like? Arresting hillbilly crackheads and leading them to dead end court cases? At this moment he sure didn't feel like a hero. Sarah would be ashamed really.....

Text Color: Lawful Yellow

 

[space case]

Name: Leon Hernandez
Gender: Male
Slot Taking: Regular
Age: 28
Physical Description: Leon is tall but not completely lean, and has a small lump of pudge on his stomach that is often hidden under a cardigan. His arms are littered with tattoos; roses and vines on the left arm and paw prints going down from his elbow to his thumb on the right. In an attempt to look edgy, he has closely shaved half of his head, and let the remaining dark brown hair grow down just past his shoulders. He wears glasses with heavy frames, but unlike much of his appearance this is not just for looks; he doesn't have the best vision. Behind the glasses are light brown skin and dark brown eyes.

Personality: Sober: Leon is a grumpy, stuck-up jerk who works in circulation at the library and scoffs at people who ask him questions. Being relatively tall makes it easy for him to look down on others, because of course the only things that are worth liking are the things he enjoys. As a whole, his exterior is rather unfriendly and can come off as that of a snippy, pretentious, hipster who doesn't really know what he's talking about. He's just trash. He probably isn't so bad when you get to know him..hopefully. He's also a closet romantic, and gets a crush on a new barista or waiter or guy on the bus every other week, and insists that they're going to fall in love and go backpacking across Europe. This is all kept to his writing, however, and he'll publicly deny feeling any of this. Besides, of course... Drunk: Leon is a mess. He gets teary easily, and often whines to anyone who will listen about how he doesn't have real friends. He can get very physically affectionate.

Drink of Choice: Whatever beer on tap is the least expensive.

Why They're There: The bar is on his rout home from work at the library, and he has nothing better to do. He goes and sits in a corner and doesn't talk to people. He feels like the aesthetic of the bar is very cohesive of the short novel he's trying to write, and while he'd like to spend that time writing, he usually just drinks and stares at his phone the whole time.

Writing Sample: His wrists ached from pushing that damned cart around, and as he mentally bemoaned the weight of the most recent installment of some young adult book, Leon heard something to his side.
"Sir?" the something said.
He turned his head alone, still squeezing the hefty book into its spot on the shelf. "Yes?" he said with no indication of enthusiasm.
"I was wondering where I could find something on Neptune's atmosphere? I'm doing a school project an-"
"You want reference," was his equally flat reply, "114." With a stern point to the left wing of the library, Leon did not watch as the girl walked away.
He pushed his cart further down the aisle and leaned his weight on it as he did. He was hungry, but would be shot before he ventured to get something out of the vending machine. In a rush to get to work so he wouldn't be later than he already was that day, he'd neglected to go to his normal food truck to buy breakfast. The books on the cart muffled his groan as he leaned his head against the pages. The days he worked in Young Adult were his least favorite. It made him watch impressionable young minds being turned into capitalist pigs and poisoning their minds with whatever trash new book about a dystopian society or whatever. 'This society is already a dystopia,' he grumbled. His daydreaming took him to his own novel-in-progress: a stunning introspective on society through the eyes of a young writer. It would be refreshing to write someone so different from himself.

Text Color: A shade of red you've probably never heard of.

 

[Aireel]

Name: Emmanuel Collins

Gender: Male

Slot Taking: New Visitor

Age: 24

Physical Description: He's in his early 20's and he looks it. He switches back and forth between having a 5 o'clock shadow and being completely shaved. He's got the grad student thing going on even though he's just graduated pretty recently. He's nearly 6 feet tall and wears Henleys and sweaters most of the time with dark jeans and worn in lace up boots. He's got blue eyes and short dark brown hair (he'll let it get to his ears but usually not further than that). His body is average with a slight lean toward athletic since he figures he should go running every once in a while since his job usually requires that he sits or stands around.

Personality: When he's sober he's quietly polite except for if someone comes across one of his interests. He'd literally earned a degree in art history so it's not that often that someone speaks up on one of his specific interests in the genre: religiously themed art history. He's observant and doesn't mind research. He's a good listener. When he's drunk he's definitely prone to ramble and will sometimes get a little pendantic which can grate on some people. It takes him longer to realize if he's rubbing someone the wrong way after he's had a few drinks in him. Part of this is because buzzed he starts to believe he's closer to people than he really is.

Drink of Choice: Dark 'n' Stormy

Why They're There: Emmanuel is in Seattle to check out any curator or art gallery positions available in the area. He's started a paid internship and while he was trying to get to know the area one of his coworkers recommended that he check out this pub. He's passed it a few times but tonight is the night he decides to step in.

Writing Sample:
"Hey, Emm? You wanna have a look at this? Put on some gloves."
Emmanuel slipped out his gloves from his back pocket an put them on without looking away from the sculpture in front of him. It was a bust of a woman with a rosary, head bowed in prayer. Emmanuel listened with rapt attention as his coworker began to spiel off what would be printed on the placard next to this piece in the museum. It was mostly things that Emmanuel already knew but he listened anyway. To think that someone had made this with their bare hands. . .

He didn't touch it even though he was sure he was allowed to. "When does it go out?"
His eyes roved over the planes of her face as he waited for an answer, wondering how much longer he'd have to admire this work without the public eye.


Text Color: This curious color.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Name: Ryan McBride (Known as Mac to everyone)

Gender: Mac

Slot Taking: Bartender

Age: 30

Physical Description: Ryan has black hair that is combed back, with flecks of gray beginning to show. He wear glasses has green eyes on a 6'2" frame that has an athletic build to it, but is beginning to show signs that he needs to work out a bit more. Most of the time Ryan wears blue jeans, a dark colored t-shirt with an oxford cloth shirt over it (usually a black one or a dark purple one), blue & gray Nikes, and an earring in his left ear.

Personality: Sober Ryan is easy going and has pleasant personality. Likes the crowd at the bar and views them as his friends. Ryan lives with his girlfriend Melissa (a secretary at the community college), and a cat in a two bedroom one and a half bathroom apartment about three blocks from Sunny Sam's. Drunk (though rarely anyone sees it) alcohol makes Ryan spill his guts. It's like sodium penathol to him.

Drink of Choice: Amaretto Sours.

Why They're There: He works there. Mainly for the paycheck while he works on his novel. (A story he's been writing off and on for the last 2 years).

Writing Sample:

Ryan stared at the screen of his laptop that was about 5 years past it's prime. This was the part of his story that had been giving him the most problems. He didn't want to make the murderer the lead character's girlfriend, but everything was pointing to her and that was what he was planning on. That was when Melissa told him that angle was too predictable, and Ryan knew if he didn't get past this block soon he would lose interest in this story. The thought of devoting almost 2 years of his life to this story and having it fall apart now filled Ryan with a sense of frustration and dread.

His cat Stormy approached him and began to rub on his leg.

Ryan said, "I'll feed you in a minute dear. I gotta get this thing back on course."

Stormy meowed at him and Ryan said, "Hey keep it up and you can wait until Melissa gets home."

Stormy meowed at him again and Ryan said, "Look Stormy I know you're hungry and..." he looked over at the clock and saw he had about 15 minutes to get to work. Ryan shook his head and said, "Aww crap! I gotta get going to work."

Ryan looked back at Stormy and said, "Okay my child you...." and then he just sat there for a few seconds and said, "A child? A child?" Ryan smiled broadly and shouted, "THAT'S IT!" Realizing he didn't have time to get into details he scribbled on a note pad Jenna's Daughter = Puppet!

He shut down his computer, scooped Stormy into his arms (who was noticeably surprised by this), and said, "You my fine feline child are getting the good stuff tonight." Ryan walked into the kitchen, set Stormy next to her bowl, gave her a scoop of dry food and a can of wet food.

Ryan grabbed his brown leather jacket and said, "Love you Stormy take it easy on Melissa tonight." With that he was out the door and on his way to work.

Text Color: This shade of Green works just right.

 

[julia.]

Name: Ashlyn Lake

Gender: Female

Slot Taking: Regular

Age: 28

Physical Description: Pastel blue hair, snakebite piercings, dermal by left eye, lots, and lots of tattoos. At first sight, Ashlyn looks beautiful, but it is behind all of the precisely placed make-up where the truth comes out. If you looked hard enough, you would notice her clothes are just a bit disheveled and there's a stain that looks like it's been washed but won't come out. Her roots are starting to show, and there are little wrinkles around her eyes. Since she doesn't take care of herself, Ashlyn is just on the border of too thin, but the fact that she is a bit shorter takes the harshness off of her from. She has a medium skin-tone and could possibly have a tan if she were ever in the sun long enough.

Personality: When sober, Ashlyn is....a mess. She is what happens to a girl who starts drinking at a young age, and keeps up the hardcore partying lifestyle until they flush their life down the toilet. She isn't sunny and cheery, but she laughs and has her good moments. She is polite, quiet and withdrawn.
When she drinks, Ashlyn is who she was before she needed alcohol (among other things). She is fun and lively, and shines like the sun. The drunker she gets, the more sloppy she gets and less inhibitions and morals she has. Her lack of respect for boundaries has gotten her into trouble quite a few times.

Drink of Choice: Anything with vodka.

Why They're There: She is drinking to feel, not to numb. Well, maybe to numb a little bit. It's the one place she doesn't feel like a complete shit-bag. It almost feels safe. It's also the only place she hasn't been kicked out of or banned from.

Writing Sample: Dogs barking. Car alarms sounding off. Ashlyn jumped as a pounding against the wall in the apartment next door woke her up. She was laying on the torn, ragged couch in the same clothes she had fallen asleep in. Her mouth felt thick and dry, and her head was foggy. It was always foggy now. She laid there and listened to the same bullshit outside that always went on. The same sounds, the same voices, and hustlers, drug dealers, and addicts.
A choked laugh forced it's way out of her as she thought about how cliche, how ridiculous her life probably seemed. It was a story that had been written and read for thousands of years.
Rolling up and over her feet touched the hardness of something that wasn't the floor. Bleary-eyed, she looked down at what was under her feet and nearly screamed when she saw a man she didn't know. With her heart pounding, hands griping the edge of the couch, Ashlyn took a few deep calming belly breaths. Pulling herself back onto the couch and climbing over the arm she made her way down the dim hallway to the dingy yellow painted bathroom.
When her business was finished, she went back out to the living room to find it empty. There was no sign of mystery man and once again she was alone.

Text Color: Let's see how this one works out.