[REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; 2 More Needed)

With a suggested standard of two paragraphs or more and dedicated lore threads, this is for the more verbose roleplayer. (10+ sentences per post, on average.)
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Annasiel
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Annasiel » Mon Feb 26, 2018 10:44 pm

Wonderful!
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

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UmbraSight
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by UmbraSight » Mon Feb 26, 2018 11:56 pm

Hurray, people!
//… and it was there, and her blade flicked out catching only air. She backed from the door, worn floorboards shivering with each misplaced step...// Fall of the Aelir Isles, Vol. III

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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Snowskeeper » Wed Feb 28, 2018 8:46 am

Working on a CS

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Someguy500
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Someguy500 » Thu Mar 01, 2018 3:43 am

Hope I'm not too late to make a CS, I love sci-fi of all types.
Snowskeeper wrote:"I rip off my head and slam-dunk it into the nearest trashcan

Good morning"
- May 2017

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Annasiel
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Annasiel » Thu Mar 01, 2018 4:00 am

Y'all are cool~

Oh god, that quote.
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

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PieHostage3_14
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by PieHostage3_14 » Mon Mar 05, 2018 3:52 am

It's been a while, and my old CS was edgy as hell, but let me see if I can come up with something good.

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Annasiel
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Annasiel » Mon Mar 05, 2018 7:47 am

Wonderful!
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

Snowskeeper
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Snowskeeper » Tue Mar 06, 2018 5:46 am

God, I really hope edginess isn't a disqualifying factor.

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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Someguy500 » Thu Mar 08, 2018 2:55 am

Technically finished, but I'll probably come back to edit it.

Name: Luca Trace
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Personality: Quite an oddity, Luca is genuinely amiable and at times even manages to be optimistic. He even wants to help people! He's a bit cowardly, sure, but it's something he's working on, promise.

In his bid to make life less hostile, Luca is socially conscious, almost painfully so. He inwardly pores over every word choice and errant movement after the fact. Because of this he's quick to adapt to most social circles, and putting on a mask is so second nature it's concerning. He's by no stretch of the imagination cold, but he looks a bit more friendly than he actually is to people outside of a particular few, judging with a bit of the same critical eye he looks at himself with.

While he's alone, Luca is curious about how mechanical objects work; he loves to pick things apart and put them back together, mentally cataloging each part's function and connections. This extends to some electronics, but really only practical ones seen often.

Luca is mostly practical about his employment as an "Intelligence Officer", which is just a nice way of saying "desk cop". Regardless, Big Bro Jagger are the ones who trained him from the ground up, not to mention they actually help people. Sure, he'll gossip and chatter about them at the local bar, but leaking info is a crime, and he really wants no part in any of that "illegality" bull.

Description: A younger-looking guy, Luca wears a look that just screams "earnest", from his rounded features, straight, nonthreatening posture and vibrant expressions to his simple workaday clothes and thick-rimmed eyeglasses. At 172 cm and 55 kilos on the dot, Luca is on the thin side of average, though Jagercorp regimen ensures that he's definitely no slouch, physically.

Luca pays a lot of attention to how he looks. Typically, his light brown hair is worn messy, but in a way that frames his eyes and face, making it look more natural than unkempt. Speaking of, his brown eyes are usually unassuming, maintaining a passive gaze despite how alert Luca really is, and his soft features are quick to flash any emotion he needs.

Off-duty, he tends to wear either baggy cargo trousers and shirts, or a dress shirt and slacks, depending on where he's going and who he'll meet. Physically, he's built like more a dancer than a soldier; his prescence hardly dominates while in civvies, but he definitely looks scrawnier than he really is.

Equipment: Always by his side is his service pistol: a standard 2-centimeter bore plasma bolter. Between consistent maintenance and infrequent use, it looks as good as new.

During his time in R&D, Luca was able to acquire a discarded prototype for a discontinued ablative armor design, consisting a base vest and pads designed to eject thin layers of plating as they become compromised. Thankfully, it was scrapped more for cost of manufacture than anything else. After a lot of tinkering Luca has sanded the rough edges and made it his own, with a proximity trigger to eject a layer to deflect anything approaching at a dangerous speed. It used to be stashed at home, but the blackouts quickly made Luca reconsider that, carrying it around in a kitbag along with spare layers, plus other odds and ends.

He frequently wears otherwise cosmetic spectacles that act as a link to his work and personal computers. He's saved some money for ONIs for this should either his spectacles or eyes become disabled.

History: Luca was never anyone remarkable. Alright family, fine grades, it was okay, as far as he knew. Pa owned the tiny coffee shop downstairs where he helped out, Ma took care of his little sis Jess. Classic nuclear family, a bit on the well-off side but not really by much.

Of course, someone would cause young Luca to dive into a life of danger. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, after all, and a good friend his age, Maxine Hollister, was going to lay the first tile. Luca had plenty of friends, but Maxine was different. She acted more like a rowdy boy than a girl her age, going on about the corps and how cool they were, Neuros Tavri in particular. He joined in, naturally, taking a shine to Jagercorp instead. Conversations where you only agreed were boring, to Max. Wherever she went, he was never far behind. As they grew into their later teenage years, she took up simple engineering for a while, and of course, he was all over it.

What started as a feigned sharing of interests turned into a genuine pursuit with aptitude to match, for both building things and corps. After making Jess swear to take over the shop when Pa retired, Jagercorp got a new promit that day. Everything went smoothly with Luca getting assigned to R&D, but he got less and less time to his family and friends from out of the job. Even Max, his pillar and constant companion faded with time.

====

It was a dozy morning, like the city was drunkenly reaching for a snooze button. It was time for work. Cutting through one of the less fortunate districts, Trace heard it before he saw it. Shouting, grunting, wood breaking and splintering. A shakedown. Before he knew what he was doing, Lu sprinted to the sound. He quickly rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a pair of Selmalite goons, confronting a couple in a crummy run-down apartment. His sense of justice urged him to slam one in the gut. His training told him to back off and aim for the head. His fear silenced both and froze him on the spot.

What was he doing?! This was what he was trained for! By the time he mustered enough resolve and decided to draw his gun, one of the thugs had closed the distance between them. The older man towered over him, his voice was direct, deep but slightly strained. Desperation? Malnutrition? "The fuck do you want, Jag?" He spat the last word, jabbing a finger at the logo on his gear for emphasis. The couple cowered a bit farther into the tiny living room, staring, judging. In that moment, Luca breathed in, and said the worst thing he could have.

"Nothing, I'm just R&D."

He took off before it could get any worse. Running, he felt sick, was disgusted at himself. Worse, he caught himself hoping nobody had seen him instead of regretting his decision. The day dragged on and on, each minute turned into an hour, every second torturous. That night, he drafted a request for transfer, and went to sleep in tears.
Last edited by Someguy500 on Fri Mar 23, 2018 5:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
Snowskeeper wrote:"I rip off my head and slam-dunk it into the nearest trashcan

Good morning"
- May 2017

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Poetic Ghost
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Re: [REQ] BLACKOUT(Open; Needs 5 Members)

Post by Poetic Ghost » Thu Mar 08, 2018 4:04 am

A work in progress. Someone tell me if I’m on the right track, otherwise I’ll trash it.

Name: Anderson Snow

Age: 30

Sex: Male

Personality: Fairly calm and quiet, but is quick to action. Anderson doesn’t show his true intentions to many, and often uses false statements and his aloofness to gather information needed in his investigations. Past this exterior, Anderson feels isolated from most people, and desperately wants to make a connection with those around him. However, he feels that the role he plays in Terminal makes him an outsider by default. He feels isolated and depressed easily, and is prone to feeling alone, even in a crowded room.

Anderson identfies as a “freelance asset” not bound by law or alligence to a corporate entity. He acts as many things for many different people; private investigator, enforcer, corporate spy, assasain. Make no mistake, Anderson is by no means lawman. He disregards the expectations of Jagercorp social law, using foul play, thievery, exploitation, and violence to resolve conflict when his other methods fail.

He holds little respect for authority, even the corporate groups he may have worked with or may have assisted him in the past. In Anderson’s mind, they are all the same, equally abusive. While some may offer help or uphold social values, no one seems to give an explanation for the blackouts, or offer a plan for the future of Terminal.

Description:
Image

Anderson never seems focused on what is right in front of him. Even while doing other tasks, Anderson’s tired eyes are concerned with other things. His overcast eyes never seem to be really looking at you when you’re speaking to him, instead, it’s as if they are looking at the inner you, studying you.

Anderson isn’t a large man, standing at 5’11 and 155lbs. He isn’t particularly muscular, but is quite agile when he needs to be.

His attire reflects the life of professionalism that he once lived. On a usual day of business, Anderson wears a waistcoat and tie under a long coat that has definelty seen better days.

Equipment:
Anderson prefers to keep his pocket as clutterless as possible. He carries little past a notebook, flashlight, and a handgun, which he keeps in his shoulder holster.

History:
Disgusting...

Another thick cloud of smoke leaked from his nostrils and floated upwards, up and away into the dark sky. The disgusting roll of paper and cheap tobacco lit his face in the darkness of this dim corner of Terminal, giving some light to this individual. Snow didn’t care if it killed him. He didn’t care for much anymore.

Right now, his only concern was the girl. Name; Caitlin Vos, just barely eight years old. Her parents were both labourers, trying to give their daughter the best life she could have, pinching every bit of money they could to send her to school. Then, she goes missing, along with half of her classmates.

Snow wasn’t the hero, he wouldn’t get himself silenced looking for missing kids, he’d leave it to the Jagercops. But her parents were desperate, and Snow needed the money.

“I’ll do it.”

Shit.

With those three words, he’d killed her. It didn’t matter how hard he’d look, the girl was gone and her friends were too. All that was left to do was head back to their home and tell the heartbroken parents the news. He could tell, it hadn’t been just a kidnaping for their local sweatshop, it smelled like Technocrat business. Eight kids gone in the dead of night? No evidence, no rumours in the underground, just.. gone. He hadn’t seen abductions like that since he himself was just a kid, trying to scrape by.
Last edited by Poetic Ghost on Tue Oct 16, 2018 6:28 am, edited 3 times in total.
~~ You are but a grain of sand, in the sands of time. ~~

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