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Post by Shiro on Apr 28, 2009 14:55:10 GMT -5
Here is where you will post your applications. Please respond to the thread with the following information.
U S E R I N F O Name: (Any) Age: Role Playing Experience:
C H A R C T E R I N F O Name: Age: Gender: Bio: (Add anything from a history to a physical description here, anything to give me a better grasp of your character.) Role Play Post Example: (Remember, QUALITY is more important than QUANTITY. You may post any example you like, if you need a topic to base your post off of use this: You have just come across a Cannibal eating a little boy.)
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Brandt
Civilian
"Oh, great, he has a sense of humor." :T
Posts: 14
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Post by Brandt on Apr 29, 2009 3:55:58 GMT -5
U S E R I N F O Name: Username is "abandon", but for now call me by my character name, "Brandt". Age: 19 Role Playing Experience: Since 2004. Was a moderator of a now inactive board in 2006. Am currently the admin of my own board, while also a moderator at the same time on another.
C H A R C T E R I N F O Name: Garret Brandt Age: 36 Gender: Male Bio: (History)Served as a faithful soldier in the army ever since he joined at the age of 20. His father, being a prideful doctor, had expected that Brandt would follow in his footsteps. The family name held no interest for Brandt, neither did living in his father's shadow, which is the prime reason he enlisted himself. The excitement he had experienced were only a more than pleasant bonus. When he became a high-ranking officer, and lead a team against a horde of infected... the result did not bode well. While Brandt escaped alive, the rest of his team were left for fodder. He's thourougly convinced that one other person from his troop made it out of the slaughter. He hasn't reported back since then.
(Physical)Brandt has a solid muscular build, but not like the ones you'd be apt to see in beefcake magazines. His frame is a tad more slenderly cut. Weighs in at 176 lbs, with a height of 5'9". Square face with rigid features - a product of strict discipline. Sports a rather fair skintone, as he burns rather than tan amidst sunlight. In the past, he would obsessively keep his face clean-shaven, but the increasingly troubling encounters with infected has made him care more about survival than silly appearances. Brandt has always had thick black hair, and trouble with keeping it tidy - it's developed into a shaggy-esque version of a crew cut. If he must clean up, he'll slick his hair back with gel (if available). Despite the thick hair, he can't seem to grow a full beard or mustache; it comes out as more of a prickly scruff or five o' clock shadow. Although officially labelled as "MIA", he still wears his standard issue military uniform and boots. They just feel natural on him, like a shadow. Wears a pair of thin, old-fashioned, broken, circular eyeglasses. He can't traverse anywhere without them. Carries his equipment in his duffle bag.
(Personality) *Strategic *Logical *Strict *Disciplined *Cold *Bluntly honest *Quiet *Workoholic *Stubborn *The kind of man who would want close friendships but his disposition doesn't easily allow it *Somewhat egotistical *Dark humour
Role Play Post Example: 'Death is only the beginning.'
A chilling addage if there ever was one. By itself, old age was terrifying, but the existance of infected was just downright breaking. Disgusting rot, limited motor functions, freakish superhumans, inescapable monsters of hell. Why are they here? Of all the things for the so-called "God" of this world to create, he had to make humans.
Humans were the cause of this scourge.
Humans were responsible.
And we're all getting exactly what we deserved, trying to become Gods ourselves.
But no way in hell was Brandt going to let himself be lumped into the same category as foolish humans. This wasn't his fault. Why should he bear the burden? The best thing to do was cut down all these worthless parasites!
Brandt lazily picked up the shattered remains of an infected's skull. He scowled. The bastard made him waste ammunition. Next time, he'll be wise enough have some gasoline and a lighter on hand.
Dropping the head to the floor, he whiped his hands clean of rotting slime upon his pants. It stank in here. Slightly unpleasant. The MIA soldier coped a peek into the kitchen. Coast clear. Brandt emitted a yawn, and made his way to the fridge.
Opening it up, he saw what limited choices were available: soured milk, expired steak, a butter knife, and some eggs. A shame.
Reaching for an egg, he dug his thumb past the hard white shell, and struck a viscous clear liquid. The slime was replusive. But, a meal is a meal, he reminded himself. Bringing the cracked shell to his lips, he sucked down his sustinence. A dark chuckle.
Vaguely, he was reminded of how he watched a Cannibal type infected feast upon a child.
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Post by Shiro on Apr 29, 2009 17:44:59 GMT -5
You, sir, are a dream come true <3 Bravo on completely engaging me in your character's life story. You are accepted and I look forward to role playing with you!
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Brandt
Civilian
"Oh, great, he has a sense of humor." :T
Posts: 14
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Post by Brandt on Apr 29, 2009 22:39:51 GMT -5
Haha, you give me too much credit. :blush: Thank you very much; as I look forward to rp'ing with you.
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Post by Shiro on Apr 29, 2009 22:50:26 GMT -5
I'll make your sub-form now so that you can post your character profiles.
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Tanjuu
Zombie Hunter
Posts: 134
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Post by Tanjuu on May 1, 2009 8:06:19 GMT -5
U S E R I N F OName: Known by many, but Tanjuu should suffice. Age: Aight, if you must know I'm 16. Role Playing Experience: Not an extreme amount, more or less a moderator on a number of different boards. C H A R C T E R I N F OName: Tanjuu Shageki Age: 23.4 Gender: Male Bio: History: A curious case indeed, an American orphan named by Japanese immigrants while learning what was necessary through living on the streets. The curious part being that he managed to learn more than the average schooled child. (Blaming the American education system here.) Earning his pay during his teenage years as a simple games store clerk, he eventually managed to scrounge up enough to rent small apartment... right across from the headquarters of the city mafia as he found out one day. Rather than shooting Tanjuu as he'd expected, the Don took him under his wing and allowed Tanjuu to join the ranks. Years did pass as Tanjuu ascended in the ranks, reaching the point of being the Don's right hand man. But the day came when the Don did pass on, leaving Tanjuu with the responsibility of becoming the head honcho of the city's crime... which he declined and left to pursue his own life. That was, until the day the infected reared their ugly heads. Now a man on no mission, no goal nor want of life faces the odds, which he will tip in his favor... Physical: A lanky, tall figure more suited to the art of stealth. With a height of 6'2 and a total weight of 100lbs, Tanjuu isn't something too interesting to look at. Short black hair adorns his crown as well as a thin mustache more like lip bristle than hair. Very pale skin with only the barest of tans and finely haired arms. This build is concealed by what appears to be an expensive tailored black business suit, consisting of a red tie, white undershirt, black shined shoes, black pants and black single-breasted jacket (often unbuttoned). Worn atop his head is an equally black fedora worn low to hide his heterochromia affected eyes (left eye green and right eye blue). As far as weaponry goes, he keeps a Smith and Wessen Model 29-2 holestered on his right hip and a Model 1927A5 Thompson with drum magazine concealed in the jacket. A constant feature his the cigar caught between his teeth, no matter the time or place, there would be a fresh one to smoke. Personality: Tanjuu is as a whole, a reasonable being to get along with. Despite his short stint in the mafia, he remained a somewhat good-natured man with a few 'unsavoury ideals.' Tanjuu is also well humoured with a heavy layer deadpan delivery to each occasion, often attempting to try and add one-liners to situations he deems neccesary. Despite his joking demeanor, he does try and get along with allies and in the case of uninfected enemies, believes in the art of charisma to bring potential allies to his side. Role Play Post Example: 'Never give a sucker an even break.' This was the wisdom of W.C.Fields, a man who knew that no man should give another an advantage so that they may use it upon you. Just one of the many teachings that had been handed down by the Don, who was very much the father figure. Tanjuu however would come to disregard this rule during these times of apocalyptic carnage. No matter how hard he would try to ignore the screams and pathetic pleas for assistance, it was usually he who would need to come to their rescue. And it never friggen' helped! Not even so much as a thank you from these people, instead they would often run away from him still shrieking hysterically only to be killed off later on. This time however was different, the civillian was not exactly helpless but instead attempting to take down a crowd of infected with only a pistol! Tanjuu was contempt in simply letting the man handle himself, but when the handgun flew out of the fat man's hands Tanjuu sighed and decided to make himself known. Running out from the alleyway and firing off his Thompson into the crowd, mowing them down with extreme accuracy. As the Thompson died down, as did the infected horde. The fat man now cowered in the corner with both hands over his head in a pitiful attempt to conceal himself. Tanjuu walked over with the pistol inhand, he handed it back over with a cheery "There you go, everything's fine now." The man however raised the pistol and fired at Tanjuu, only to hear a light click of an empty gauge. He looked down at the pistol stupidly, then looked back up to find a revolver staring him in the face. Tanjuu held up the removed pistol ammunition with a gesture of 'Nice try dipshit, now you've made me have to go and do this' and fired the Magnum at point blank range. Considering the use of a spare pistol, Tanjuu walked off in the direction of the tavern as he thought. Never give a sucker an even break. Good advice Don...
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Post by Shiro on May 1, 2009 12:50:15 GMT -5
Three things...
Read the rules. I do need your age. Once those things get fixed I will accept you, as you seem rather talented.
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Tanjuu
Zombie Hunter
Posts: 134
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Post by Tanjuu on May 2, 2009 21:37:27 GMT -5
Fixed.
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Post by Shiro on May 3, 2009 1:11:45 GMT -5
:/
Read the rules again.
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Tanjuu
Zombie Hunter
Posts: 134
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Post by Tanjuu on May 3, 2009 5:51:28 GMT -5
Fixed twice.
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Post by Shiro on May 3, 2009 15:13:10 GMT -5
Hooray!! I'll make your character sub-forum now <3
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Post by Skynet on May 3, 2009 22:22:03 GMT -5
U S E R I N F O Name: Skynet aka Nicole Age: 22 Role Playing Experience: *blushes* Can I plead the Fifth? Practically none but there's a first time for everything...
C H A R C T E R I N F O Name: Gillian Casey (Jill to her friends) Age: 25 Gender: Female Player Type: Human
Bio:
***History*** Gillian Casey was born in a small town in Central Texas. Although her home life was tough (both her parents ignored her, choosing instead to participate in numerous affairs and leaving the young Jill to try to hold the household together by herself) she grew up to be the town's golden girl, with brains and looks and a starring position on the high school's softball team. Her parents disowned her at the age of 17 when she got pregnant and moved in with her boyfriend, the then 28-year old Benjamin Rodrigues, a dashing soldier on the nearby Loganston Army Base. They had a son, Donovan, who nearly died at birth due to heart complications. Despite this and severe money problems, they led a (relatively) peaceful life for several years, until the army base got shut down and Ben was mysteriously “deployed” to an unknown location, never to be seen again.
About a year later, the epidemic made it as far south as Texas where Gillian was working as a nurse in Stanton Memorial Hospital. When the first wave came, she took Donovan and hid in the most secure place in the building: the hospital morgue. They stayed there for three days, listening to the groans and screams of the hapless victims. When the third day came and the attacking hordes abated somewhat, she fought her way out armed with a tranquilizer gun and they made a run for her house, where they grabbed food and weapons and went on the run, looking for a place to hole up and wait out the storm.
Ironically, the very thing that had doomed her and isolated her from her family was what enabled her to survive: Ben had taught her quite a bit about self defense and survival skills before his disappearance. She often wonders if he knew about the infection before it happened, or worse...had something to do with it.
***Appearance*** Height 5'4”, weight 125 lbs. Mixed descent- Hispanic and Caucasian. Used to have long wavy dark hair (her pride and joy) but hacked it off after the last chilling night in the morgue, so that now it resembles a short choppy shag. Medium tan with freckles and large round grey doe eyes that always make her look innocent and slightly surprised. Curvy yet slightly muscular from years of softball. Carries a battered backpack with food and basic medical supplies. Her weapons of choice are a machete and an old pearl-handled Beretta. Dresses mainly in dark-wash jeans, boots, and a leather jacket that she stole from a retailer when the whole world went to hell.
***Personality*** Stubborn, cautious, untrusting, and fiercely protective of her son, Donovan, and never goes anywhere without him. Extremely dry sense of humor and a take-it-one-day-at-a-time mentality. Very practical and unsentimental, thanks to her years of working as a nurse. Knows enough medicine to treat minor wounds. Does not have the knowledge of a full-fledged doctor, however, much to her chagrin, and takes it really hard when faced with something she does not think she can handle. Extremely pessimistic about the future. (but then who wouldn't be?)
Role Play Post Example:
It was a shitty time to be dethroned from the top of the food chain. But that's exactly what happened, Gillian Casey pondered as she picked her way through the rubble. A few years ago, this was a parking garage outside of a shopping mall. Oh, malls. “Christ, what I wouldn't give for some fresh clothes and a soft pretzel...Donny! Get your cute little ass back here!”
Her 8-year old son Donovan, sure-footed as a mountain goat, hopped down off of a steel girder, “Jesus, Mom, I was just gone for a second!”
“Don't say Jesus,” Jill replied automatically, then sucked in a sharp breath when he disappeared with a squeal, caught up in the bony arms of a leach. Dammit, should have seen that one coming a mile away.
Hissing with fangs extended, the leach leapt over the girder. Donny let out a sharp cry of pain. But just as it was about to sink its teeth into little Donny's neck, Jill fired three shots point-blank into its forehead. That's right, asshole, fastest draw in the west. But the bastard was not deterred, just pissed off. Throwing the boy to the ground, the zombie sprang for Jill with its fingers outstretched like long bony talons.
THWACK! With a sickenning sound, the leach's head was neatly severed from its body. Its momentum caused them both to crash to the ground. In a split second, Jill was back on her feet. She gawked at the little boy, who was brandishing a bloody machete like some pygmy knight from a bizarre fairy tale. “Alright, kid, you can count that as your kill, but your ass was grass till I blew his brains out.”
“Yeah, whatever, he didn't have any brains to begin with. Hey, Mom- when are you gonna finally teach me to shoot?”
“Not in your lifetime, little man.” Smirking, Jill wiped the blade on the leach's rags and strode away. It was true... humans were no longer top of the food chain. But unlike most prey animals, they could fight back.
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Post by Shiro on May 3, 2009 23:55:58 GMT -5
Man you are amazing... Accepted, but you already knew that.
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Post by Setsuna Kirios on May 5, 2009 1:44:42 GMT -5
U S E R I N F O Name: Thomas Miller Age: 19 Role Playing Experience: Not enough, thats for sure. But, I do enjoy to write. Been doing that for around 2 years.
C H A R C T E R I N F O Name: Setsuna Kirios ( "The Racing Zombie Hunter" ) Age: 20 Gender: Male Bio: Setsuna moved to Washington from Japan with his mother when he was 16, leaving behind his life of fast cars, easy girls and high technology to live in a little town of Redmond. The little brick and mortar village was so remote that Setsuna was forced to purchase his own wireless uplink to access the internet.
He was pleased that his mother had at least allowed him to keep his car. Little beauty of a car too. 40K stock, 15K in body-kits, 35K in... mostly legal modifications to the engine and transmission. Oh yes, she was a beast, Setsuna's heart and soul. Sure it seemed like a lot of money for a 16 year old. But Setsuna came from a, distinguished, background.
It was on his 19th birthday that the demons first started appearing. redmond was isolated enough that no one payed much attention, but Setsuna, who like to hang out in Everett saw its effects. At first there were small signs. No Beggars in the alleyways, then, no pets roaming the streets, it wasn't till almost 3 months in that the entire city just up and disappeared.
It was on that day when Setsuna returned home that he found his his mother lying on the kitchen floor, his father's pistol in her hand and her life blood oozing from her neck. Beside her lay a... creature, something that had once been a man, but was no longer. He cried then, cried for almost a week before becoming consumed with a rage that pushed all emotions aside. He would extract revenge on this abominations, he would bring honor back to the Kirios name.
Physical Appearance: The Young man, just barely out of teen-hood, is not the most physically active person in the world. Not say he was fat. His mother's cooking added with his want to impress 'the ladies' had kept Setsuna thin. Standing a good 5' 7" tall and weighing in at 140 pounds Setsuna was not exactly a prize fighter. He was a driver. His black slacks and white button up shirt, usually unbuttoned near the top attested to that. As well as his Black racing helmet. Only fools raced without protection. Simple tennis shoes adorned his feet, comfortable yet tight they served their purpose.
Personality: Setsuna is smug, easily scarred, and think himself to be a ladies man. As of late however, the ladies man thing has begun to wear off, being that the ladies are few and far between. And the scarred part now mostly applies to humans. Human's can use guns. Zack can't.
Role Play Post Example: Seattle Rubber squealed against dry pavement as Setsuna threw his Mitsubishi Evolution into a hard drift. No way in hell was he wasting 15,000 dollars of bodywork just to smear zack all over the road. The young man grinned to himself as he slid the 2,900 pound car around the feasting beast.
Zack.
Who had ever named them that? American military probably, back where there was one perhaps?
Calloused hands expertly threw the car into neutral, tapping the breaks to line up the driver side window and the manifestation of evil. " Mm'K beast, game time over." Slowly, carefully, his finger tightened around the smooth black trigger of his Beretta 92FS.
Three loud claps rang out, dissipating quickly over the empty plains.
Setsuna cursed as his first two shots flew wide, digging deep furrows in the pavement. His last round however, found its mark. The nine millimeter hollow point round literally tearing the zombie's head in half.
Rubber smoked cried in pain as Setsuna let the full 465 horsepower of the EVO take him from the area. Not caring to watch as the creature's grey, rotten brain matter spread itself across the broken road of the present.
(( Like I said, I'm kinda new to this so... yeah. ))
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Post by Shiro on May 5, 2009 2:08:27 GMT -5
Totally accepted... I'm just wondering where you got the whole "zack" thing...
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