(no subject)
More apps! There's only one more batch left after this, so keep it up, guys!
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. Closed!
Character: Kaitlyn ("Kait")
Series: FreakAngels.
Age: 23
Job: Your Enthusiastic And Assertve Activities Authority Head
Canon: Say you're 17, have been gifted with phenomenal cosmic power, and live in the UK. Got it? Good. Now say that the government has deemed you both a dangerous freak and an angel of destruction. What do you do? For 12 teens this means they choose to sink London and royally fuck up the rest of the world. Six years later, the world is still picking itself up and these teens now are all grown up and trying to make reparations.
Luckily they all seem to specialize in something, some in engineering, some in spiritual healing, or like Kaitlyn, crime fighting. Kaitlyn believes in Justice. She believes in handcuffs, tonfas, and hitting evil doers in the face. Crime shows are her Bible and she isn't beyond projecting her voice into your head in the middle of the night to accuse you of a crime. Don't take that to mean she's all talk, when Kait says "Anyone who tries to hug me will be shot dead" she means it. She also gets a ladyboner during murder confessions, true facts. In short, Kait's absolutely mental.
Sample Entry:
All right, listen up you deadheads. I'm Kaitlyn and usually I'm the police. But lucky you, your Elizabeth Sayre has hired me to organize some games. Fun stuff. Enjoyable stuff. Relaxing stuff. So here's what's going to happen, you listen to me and we all have fun. You choose to ignore me and I put the "fun" back in "your spine is no longer functional."
We're going to play cops and robbers -- and no-one better give me shit for the game choice. Cops and robbers is a great game. So you lot are going to divide up into two teams. One team is going to be cops and the other team is going to be low-life scum. Yes, scum, that's exactly what I said. And this doesn't refer to their looks, even if most of you look like you took a dive into the deep end of a nuclear dumpsite. I don't do discrimination, all right? The law is just and unbiased and I am the fucking law. Now, a couple of rules.
You will play fair. Anyone caught breaking the rules will be shot dead. If any of you cops decide to defect to the other side, you will be shot dead. No matter what the robbers offer you, you stick to your job. I won't have any dirty cops on my watch. As cops your job is to apprehend the bad guys, got it?
Robbers, your job is to try your best to flee the crime scene. You get caught, we put you in jail. And it won't be one of those sissy jails from your childhood. I came prepared and brought my own jail. See this? This is where we'll keep you, and I promise you all those chains and cuffs aren't for show. This place is secure.
Cops, remember that after you catch the robbers you will give them a fair trial. This means interrogating them. You can use any means necessary, but remember that a dead robber is no good to anyone - you can't convict a corpse for a crime. If interrogation makes you uncomfortable, I I'll? understand and will take over for you. Robbery confessions aren't as exciting as murder confessions ... but it'll have to do ...
So those are the rules. If you have any questions, you should have listened better. You will play this game and you will like it. Don't look so down, you're in good hands since I'm your - What did I tell you? You break the rules, I shoot you. Now you've tried to fight the law, and the law won. - Y.E.A.A.H.
Poll Vote!
Character: Kirk
Series: FreakAngels
Character Age: 23
Job: Camp Ceiling Cat
Canon: 23 years ago, 12 strange children were born at exactly the same time. 6 years ago, the world ended. FreakAngels is the story of what happens after 12 super-powered, angry teenagers decide to make a statement by punching a hole in the world. All they wanted to do was scare the Feds into leaving them alone. What they actually did was flood most of Britain. When they found a group of rag-tag survivors in Whitechapel, above the waterline, they decided to set up base there. They're doing what they can to make amends-without actually letting the people know about their abilities.
Kirk is the eye in the sky, watching over Whitechapel from above. He's got a lot of guilt over having helped end the world, so he spends days without rest up in his watchtower. Up there, he keeps an eye on the perimeter and reassuring the residents of Whitechapel's safety as his sort of personal penance. Kirk is a big brother type, but not in a creepy 1984 Big Brother sense: he cares a lot about the people under his protection and is someone who stands up to bullies. He's sensible, but childishly selfish at times. Kirk indulges in life's little pleasures, like fresh-baked bread and the view of the sunset from his watchtower. But he understands the necessity of doing some unpleasant things, like taking the law into his own hands because a dead threat is a no threat. Like the rest of the FreakAngels, Kirk has a bit of a potty-mouth and the tendency to make inappropriate pop-culture references.
Sample Post:
Listen up, Camp Fuck You Die. I'm Kirk of the Freakangels clan and I'm here to provide some extra surveillance while you get back on your feet. Recent developments have caused your director to seek out our help and, me being a generous guy and all, I've branded this camp FreakAngels territory. We know what it's like to recover from near-annihilation, and one of the first things you set up is a security system. At the moment? That's me. What that means, ladies and gents, is that you take what I tell you seriously. First things first: you hear the siren and you haul ass to somewhere safe, got it? Otherwise you can forget about the near-annihilation thing and just be annihilated.
Rule two! In the case of an emergency, save your fool self first. I get that you've got friends and all, but if everyone follows this one little rule, you'd be fucking amazed at how much trouble can be avoided. I'm not saying to leave them behind; this isn't some sort of "abandon hope all ye who enter here!" place or some other shit like that. Help each other out, sure, that's all well and good, but before you decide to leave a safe place and head straight into the wild unknown, make sure that you're not putting yourself into danger. I mean, the whole point is to keep you guys safe and breathing and if you get stuck with your little friend, that means we gotta arrange a rescue party for two dumbasses instead of one. And no one likes that. Oh, you roll your eyes at me, you little bastard, but you've got no clue what desperation'll drive people to do. You've been totally spoiled here. I mean, look! Sheep! Who the fuck has so many sheep? ...So, hey. Any of you mind if I take one of those back to Whitechapel with me? No? Awesome, I know some girls this'll make real happy.
-Ow! What the fuck, is that... Is that steel wool? Dude, steel wool doesn't grow on anything, electric sheep or not. And why the fuck are your sheep electric? What does someone even do with electric sheep? They're too slow and easily distracted to plow fields, you can't eat them, and you sure as hell can't wear anything made from steel wool. That just seems like an incredibly bad idea-especially near the more sensitive parts of the anatomy. I mean, I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't want anything that'll take paint off the side of a building near my dick.
Augh! Speaking of dicks! Remember what I said about a few more rules? Here's another one: no wanking outside. I can see you, for fuck's sake, and ceiling Kirk does not want to watch you fap!
Poll Vote!
Character: Karl
Series: FreakAngels
Character Age: 23
Job: One-Man Whole Foods Market
Canon: Twenty-three years ago, twelve strange children with white skin and purple eyes were born in east England at exactly the same time. Aside from their bizarre physical features, these twelve also possessed a mysterious package of shared powers. This "package" gave them the ability to read minds, intuit complex skills, and do a whole bunch of other wacky things they haven't yet discovered and are hesitant to explore. Why? Because seven years ago, they combined their powers and punched a hole in the world. Now they take care of a half-underwater part of London called Whitechapel, feeding and protecting survivors of the armageddon they caused and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. Whitechapel is FreakAngels territory. You fuck with Whitechapel, they come after you.
Karl is the group gardener and, as of recent developments, Whitechapel's weather witch. He's possibly the most in-tune with nature out of the twelve, which for the most part means he'd rather talk to his strawberries than other people. He doesn't enjoy the company of the other FreakAngels because he thinks they're all idiots and wankers and he hates how the intimate details of their disgusting vice-filled lives get publicized on their psychic connection. On top of that, he's a generally no-nonsense, standoffish yuppie who bitches entirely too much about trifles. He doesn't feel bad enough about having ended the world to mingle in polite society: Karl is a utilitarian through and through who believes in doing what you need to do, no matter how brutal or morally repugnant. All this doesn't mean he isn't a nice guy. Growing fruit for the hungry? That's nice. Providing shelter for the suffering is also nice. Living in solitude on a rooftop and wearing a tinfoil hat so as to block out the stray thoughts of everyone in your district--that could be called unfriendly. An utter lack of objection to the use of lethal force: also unfriendly. Karl just understands the difference between compassion and friendliness, and he toes the line better than most.
Sample Post:
Man-beasts, she-beasts, and children, have we got the deal for you this fine month of May! It's fresh, all homegrown, tended to with the delicate hands of an expert; it's one hundred and twelve percent organic, healthy, free of your em-ess-gee and your ess-tee-dee and all that synthetic garbage that oils up your pipes and causes unsightly blockages; it's ... err ... savoury ...
--it's bollocks is what it is. Not the greens, never the greens. I'm talking about these chintzy taglines. Yes, yes, I know your director has her demands and a bloody job for bloody everyone--but I'm a gardener, not a salesman. You ever see a gardener who could pimp out his produce fashionably? No, my understanding is that the best park their carcasses by the roadside and look shirty while passing tourists on road trips to visit their parents in Bumfuck pay them peanuts for beautiful Brandywine tomatoes such as these. The life of a farmer is by and large thankless. And now that I find myself here, in a part of America I can only presume is West Bumfuck, feeding people whose livelihoods are otherwise sustained by fucking cuddly bears--well, we have passed the province of "thankless" straight into "miserable".
Oh, please, please don't start with the groaning and moaning. It's my garden; I'll cry if I want to. You dimwits will get your grub, and it's all beautiful to boot. Fresh as a fresh-cut daisy. Your salads and fruity yoghurts will never be the same. My thumbs are greener than Greenland--Iceland as well, if you must get technical. Tell you what: giving soul such as I am, I'll quote you no price. I will only ask some small favours. Some tokens of your patronage.
You! With the slack jaw! I want those fucking toucans out of here. These fields on my watch will be free of randy psychic whatsits. They broadcast too loudly and all my brain feeds get clogged up with mangy, feathery wildlife programmes that Animal Planet would only dare show once the kiddies are off to dreamland. Not only is that unacceptable in itself, but the weather's getting terrible for tin hats. My poor head would scald. And you, the young lady salivating at my strawberries--I need a hose. No, I do not require "bros" beforehand and I haven't the faintest why you think you sound clever. I am a gardener. I need water.
And you--zombies? Really? Zombies? Well, if you'll insist on dragging your feet like an audience of sad lepers, at least tread along the rows. That way your falling limbs can fertilize the beans. A finger every five feet or so ought to do it. If you feel anything bigger like an arm or a leg hanging by a thread, I'll direct you to the onions. They could badly use the nitrogen, I'll detail the science for you later if you like ...
... why, yes, the key ingredient in that Tuesday soup you lot whinge about is onions. Did I miss out on a bit of exposition? Oh, you don't like a bit of chap in your curry? Bloody picky eaters. Haven't you ever heard the saying "you are what you eat"?
Poll Vote!
Character: Hidari Shoutarou
Series: Kamen Rider W (Double)
Age: early 20s
Job: Camp Private Investigator
Canon: In the windy city of Fuuto, devices resembling USB Drives called GaiaMemories are being distributed on the black market. A person who uses a GaiaMemory becomes a monster called a 'Dopant' and becomes powerful enough to cause complete chaos. However, private detective Hidari Shoutarou and his mysterious young partner Philip protect the city from these Dopants, working together as one detective and also as one hero; transforming together into Kamen Rider W.
The literal body of the operation, Shoutarou wants to be everyone's textbook hard-boiled detective; suave, infallible and unswayed no matter the situation. He even goes as far as to think in internal monologues. Unfortunately, Shoutarou doesn't really fit the hard-boiled bill. Instead he's loud, short-tempered and driven largely by impulse - leading to his own partner coining his much-loathed nickname of 'half-boiled'. That doesn't stop him from trying and succeeding at actually being a detective; he's fairly smart and has a knack for info-gathering. Shoutarou empathises easily with others and wears his heart on his sleeve, in contrasting companionship with his partner's almost pure logic. With his late mentor’s wills in his heart and hats on his head, he takes their jobs both as a detective and a Rider very seriously and always puts the good of his city and his comrades first, even above his own life.
Sample Post:
Summer camp. A seemingly innocent place, but underneath that projection of childish fun times and laughter is a murderous plot so terrible that I was called here to help solve it. The director, Sayre-san, obviously has good taste; able to find someone such as me even when she must be grieving over her lo--
--hey, don't interrupt a guy when he's concentrating! You've been groaning in my ear for about a minute, what do you want? Can't you see I'm busy scouting the area? It's an essential part of my job, you know, and if I don't get it done it'll be on your... not your head, since most of that seems to be missing. Most of you seems to be missing. And to think, some people have the gall to call me half a man, when there’s specimens like you around... Look, if you have a case, I’ll put you on the waiting list, but Sayre-san’s situation is taking maximum priority right-- what? ...I see, you’re looking for brains? Well, sorry, I haven’t got any brains.
Oi, let go! This detective has a hard job to do, so if that’s all you’re going to ask, save it for later... agh, not that kind of hard, you-! A man among men lifestyle, that’s what it is to be hard-boi-- let me finish! It’s completely different, not what you were saying anyway. My hard-boiled lifestyle is nothing crude like that at all, so stop- touching- hands off the hat! You’re sure persistent about getting your own case looked at, but clinging to me like that isn’t going to make it happen any faster.
--Hey! You waste my time grabbing me like that and now you’re just wandering off?! It’s too bad that nobody around here seems to have any brains at all, but if you don’t want my help, don’t bother me about it!
Poll Vote!
Character: Clint Eastwood The Man With No Name
Series: The Dollars series
Character age: ...early 30s?
Character job: Camp BAMF for hire
Canon: Let's return to a time when wild west was still wild, men were men, and the way of the gun was a necessity rather than a choice. At the close of the Civil War, the southwest has its fair share of outlaws and corrupt bosses lording over tiny towns. With the law spread so thin, mercenaries are the rule of the day and the man with no name is one such mercenary. He drifts from town to town, staying only long enough to make what money can be made before moving on. He doesn't care if the money is from bounties for bringing in criminals, or from the corrupt town bosses, so long as he gets his share and can ride away to the next town at the end of the job. He'll even work with an outlaw or two to collect the same bounty from several towns.
Money may be the nameless wanderer's primary motivation and his morals may seem a bit rusty but he does have a heart under that gruff exterior. He'll happily cheat the law or play both sides in a conflict against each other but he'll also risk his life to reunite a woman with her family or take the time to comfort a dying man. In between rare appearances of this softer side, he is a rugged and unflappable man of very few words and confidence that at times borders on arrogance. At least, until his intelligence, creativity, and skills let him achieve what he sets out to do, even if it seems hopeless.
Sample app:
"Bad-Ass Mother Fucker" is it? I've been called worse, but I can say for a fact that I've never met your mothers, gentlemen. Any woman that could have a son so... hairy and purple must be very memorable. I almost mistook you for trained apes until you helpfully demonstrated your skills with those fine shotguns of yours. I'll just have take you on your word about your other guns. Since I'm just passing through and we can agree I've never "done" your mothers, let's all holster our--well, you can't blame a man for trying, can you?
You two can't kill me before I get one of you, and I can't get both of you before one of you gets a shot off. In a word, what we have here is a standoff. If we were in Mexico, I'd even agree with our feathered audience over there and call it a Mexican one. Place doesn't matter much in a standoff, but I will say that the cemetery is convenient. With all these open, empty graves around us, the undertaker will only have to roll the losers in and shovel on some dirt. I'd go so far as to say we're doing him a favor and it's a not a bad thing to be in the undertaker's good graces. You never know when you'll be needing his services, isn't that right, Mr. Undertaker?
Don't bother getting up; I don't care where a man chooses to take his naps. I thought you were down there working. Keep your head down, my friend. It wouldn't do to see you lose more parts than you already have. Me and these gentlemen up here will be done in just a minute or two.
Tired of talking already, gentlemen? Alright by me; I'd put good money on you fellows having short memories, so go ahead and shoot me.
... That went well. Never thought I'd meet a gunman too stupid to keep track of how many bullets his gun holds. Maybe they really were trained apes after all. Care for a smoke, Mr. Undertaker? No? Well, I'll leave you to your burying; I've got a job to inquire about.
Poll Vote!
Character: Ginshu
Series: Amatsuki
Character Age: Mid 20s.
Job: Interspecies Relations Specialist
Canon: A failed history class turns Rikugou Tokidoki's life upside down after a virtual history exhibit traps him in the Edo period where he, of course, discovers happiness, the true meaning of friendship and a whole bunch of slightly creepy, yet also slightly endearing people and demons.
One of these people would be Ginshu, the head priestess of the Sakagami Shrine. Cursed by a snake demon to die every day and be reborn into a scaled, pain-wracked body, Ginshu is a character with many different sides to her personality. Even her gender is not entirely distinct, Ginshu was physically male before the curse but adopted a female identity when chosen to be the head priestess. Ginshu seems to have few inhibitions and seems very unconcerned with what is "proper" despite her status. She generally seems to be a kind, if occasionally sarcastic, figure who loves to tease, cook, and use tildes and heartmark but Ginshu also has a darker side to her personality. She can be calculating and manipulative and is not afraid to take advantage of people in order to achieve what she wants. What she wants includes (sort of) the destruction of all demons, and her own death, unfortunately.
Sample Post:
Now, as I'm sure you all know, Camp Fuck You Die is home to a large amount of interesting people! Yourselves included, of course~ Of course one wouldn't have to associate with these kind of people if given a choice, but when one is here at camp it is an absolute requirement. Oh my, no, of course I love associating with all of you! Especially when your arms are falling off in that enticing way that they so often do.
But I can't spend all day flattering you so perhaps we should move on, hmm? Now, while choosing me for this particular position seems more like a callous joke than anything, given my... condition, I am certain that all of you could benefit from my unique perspective on, ah, whatever it is an "Interspecies Relations Specialist" is supposed to give their unique perspectives on, hmm~? Ah, well, you are a species, aren't you? Even if you are having somewhat of a difficult time holding yourselves together.
-Yes, yes, I have noticed that the campers seem to avoid you all. My, I haven't the slightest idea why, of course, since you are all such a lovely collection of torsos and limbs. Might it help if you didn't wander around moaning in that particular fashion? It is faintly alarming, and you could see how you might be giving the impression that you actually want to eat their brains, since that seems to be all that you talk about. Perhaps try moaning something more friendly, if you absolutely must go around like that. You could try not biting everything in sight, as well. It's a wonder what some amount of small self-control can do for a friendship~
Now, when it comes to the other creatures here, I'm afraid I will be mostly useless at the moment. I'm afraid I just haven't had much experience with any of them. It's a shame, I know! Ah, though, from what I do know, Marcy-san would always welcome a swim in her lake! I've heard it is an exhilarating experience~♥
Poll Vote!
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. Closed!
Character: Kaitlyn ("Kait")
Series: FreakAngels.
Age: 23
Job: Your Enthusiastic And Assertve Activities Authority Head
Canon: Say you're 17, have been gifted with phenomenal cosmic power, and live in the UK. Got it? Good. Now say that the government has deemed you both a dangerous freak and an angel of destruction. What do you do? For 12 teens this means they choose to sink London and royally fuck up the rest of the world. Six years later, the world is still picking itself up and these teens now are all grown up and trying to make reparations.
Luckily they all seem to specialize in something, some in engineering, some in spiritual healing, or like Kaitlyn, crime fighting. Kaitlyn believes in Justice. She believes in handcuffs, tonfas, and hitting evil doers in the face. Crime shows are her Bible and she isn't beyond projecting her voice into your head in the middle of the night to accuse you of a crime. Don't take that to mean she's all talk, when Kait says "Anyone who tries to hug me will be shot dead" she means it. She also gets a ladyboner during murder confessions, true facts. In short, Kait's absolutely mental.
Sample Entry:
All right, listen up you deadheads. I'm Kaitlyn and usually I'm the police. But lucky you, your Elizabeth Sayre has hired me to organize some games. Fun stuff. Enjoyable stuff. Relaxing stuff. So here's what's going to happen, you listen to me and we all have fun. You choose to ignore me and I put the "fun" back in "your spine is no longer functional."
We're going to play cops and robbers -- and no-one better give me shit for the game choice. Cops and robbers is a great game. So you lot are going to divide up into two teams. One team is going to be cops and the other team is going to be low-life scum. Yes, scum, that's exactly what I said. And this doesn't refer to their looks, even if most of you look like you took a dive into the deep end of a nuclear dumpsite. I don't do discrimination, all right? The law is just and unbiased and I am the fucking law. Now, a couple of rules.
You will play fair. Anyone caught breaking the rules will be shot dead. If any of you cops decide to defect to the other side, you will be shot dead. No matter what the robbers offer you, you stick to your job. I won't have any dirty cops on my watch. As cops your job is to apprehend the bad guys, got it?
Robbers, your job is to try your best to flee the crime scene. You get caught, we put you in jail. And it won't be one of those sissy jails from your childhood. I came prepared and brought my own jail. See this? This is where we'll keep you, and I promise you all those chains and cuffs aren't for show. This place is secure.
Cops, remember that after you catch the robbers you will give them a fair trial. This means interrogating them. You can use any means necessary, but remember that a dead robber is no good to anyone - you can't convict a corpse for a crime. If interrogation makes you uncomfortable, I I'll? understand and will take over for you. Robbery confessions aren't as exciting as murder confessions ... but it'll have to do ...
So those are the rules. If you have any questions, you should have listened better. You will play this game and you will like it. Don't look so down, you're in good hands since I'm your - What did I tell you? You break the rules, I shoot you. Now you've tried to fight the law, and the law won. - Y.E.A.A.H.
Poll Vote!
Character: Kirk
Series: FreakAngels
Character Age: 23
Job: Camp Ceiling Cat
Canon: 23 years ago, 12 strange children were born at exactly the same time. 6 years ago, the world ended. FreakAngels is the story of what happens after 12 super-powered, angry teenagers decide to make a statement by punching a hole in the world. All they wanted to do was scare the Feds into leaving them alone. What they actually did was flood most of Britain. When they found a group of rag-tag survivors in Whitechapel, above the waterline, they decided to set up base there. They're doing what they can to make amends-without actually letting the people know about their abilities.
Kirk is the eye in the sky, watching over Whitechapel from above. He's got a lot of guilt over having helped end the world, so he spends days without rest up in his watchtower. Up there, he keeps an eye on the perimeter and reassuring the residents of Whitechapel's safety as his sort of personal penance. Kirk is a big brother type, but not in a creepy 1984 Big Brother sense: he cares a lot about the people under his protection and is someone who stands up to bullies. He's sensible, but childishly selfish at times. Kirk indulges in life's little pleasures, like fresh-baked bread and the view of the sunset from his watchtower. But he understands the necessity of doing some unpleasant things, like taking the law into his own hands because a dead threat is a no threat. Like the rest of the FreakAngels, Kirk has a bit of a potty-mouth and the tendency to make inappropriate pop-culture references.
Sample Post:
Listen up, Camp Fuck You Die. I'm Kirk of the Freakangels clan and I'm here to provide some extra surveillance while you get back on your feet. Recent developments have caused your director to seek out our help and, me being a generous guy and all, I've branded this camp FreakAngels territory. We know what it's like to recover from near-annihilation, and one of the first things you set up is a security system. At the moment? That's me. What that means, ladies and gents, is that you take what I tell you seriously. First things first: you hear the siren and you haul ass to somewhere safe, got it? Otherwise you can forget about the near-annihilation thing and just be annihilated.
Rule two! In the case of an emergency, save your fool self first. I get that you've got friends and all, but if everyone follows this one little rule, you'd be fucking amazed at how much trouble can be avoided. I'm not saying to leave them behind; this isn't some sort of "abandon hope all ye who enter here!" place or some other shit like that. Help each other out, sure, that's all well and good, but before you decide to leave a safe place and head straight into the wild unknown, make sure that you're not putting yourself into danger. I mean, the whole point is to keep you guys safe and breathing and if you get stuck with your little friend, that means we gotta arrange a rescue party for two dumbasses instead of one. And no one likes that. Oh, you roll your eyes at me, you little bastard, but you've got no clue what desperation'll drive people to do. You've been totally spoiled here. I mean, look! Sheep! Who the fuck has so many sheep? ...So, hey. Any of you mind if I take one of those back to Whitechapel with me? No? Awesome, I know some girls this'll make real happy.
-Ow! What the fuck, is that... Is that steel wool? Dude, steel wool doesn't grow on anything, electric sheep or not. And why the fuck are your sheep electric? What does someone even do with electric sheep? They're too slow and easily distracted to plow fields, you can't eat them, and you sure as hell can't wear anything made from steel wool. That just seems like an incredibly bad idea-especially near the more sensitive parts of the anatomy. I mean, I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't want anything that'll take paint off the side of a building near my dick.
Augh! Speaking of dicks! Remember what I said about a few more rules? Here's another one: no wanking outside. I can see you, for fuck's sake, and ceiling Kirk does not want to watch you fap!
Poll Vote!
Character: Karl
Series: FreakAngels
Character Age: 23
Job: One-Man Whole Foods Market
Canon: Twenty-three years ago, twelve strange children with white skin and purple eyes were born in east England at exactly the same time. Aside from their bizarre physical features, these twelve also possessed a mysterious package of shared powers. This "package" gave them the ability to read minds, intuit complex skills, and do a whole bunch of other wacky things they haven't yet discovered and are hesitant to explore. Why? Because seven years ago, they combined their powers and punched a hole in the world. Now they take care of a half-underwater part of London called Whitechapel, feeding and protecting survivors of the armageddon they caused and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. Whitechapel is FreakAngels territory. You fuck with Whitechapel, they come after you.
Karl is the group gardener and, as of recent developments, Whitechapel's weather witch. He's possibly the most in-tune with nature out of the twelve, which for the most part means he'd rather talk to his strawberries than other people. He doesn't enjoy the company of the other FreakAngels because he thinks they're all idiots and wankers and he hates how the intimate details of their disgusting vice-filled lives get publicized on their psychic connection. On top of that, he's a generally no-nonsense, standoffish yuppie who bitches entirely too much about trifles. He doesn't feel bad enough about having ended the world to mingle in polite society: Karl is a utilitarian through and through who believes in doing what you need to do, no matter how brutal or morally repugnant. All this doesn't mean he isn't a nice guy. Growing fruit for the hungry? That's nice. Providing shelter for the suffering is also nice. Living in solitude on a rooftop and wearing a tinfoil hat so as to block out the stray thoughts of everyone in your district--that could be called unfriendly. An utter lack of objection to the use of lethal force: also unfriendly. Karl just understands the difference between compassion and friendliness, and he toes the line better than most.
Sample Post:
Man-beasts, she-beasts, and children, have we got the deal for you this fine month of May! It's fresh, all homegrown, tended to with the delicate hands of an expert; it's one hundred and twelve percent organic, healthy, free of your em-ess-gee and your ess-tee-dee and all that synthetic garbage that oils up your pipes and causes unsightly blockages; it's ... err ... savoury ...
--it's bollocks is what it is. Not the greens, never the greens. I'm talking about these chintzy taglines. Yes, yes, I know your director has her demands and a bloody job for bloody everyone--but I'm a gardener, not a salesman. You ever see a gardener who could pimp out his produce fashionably? No, my understanding is that the best park their carcasses by the roadside and look shirty while passing tourists on road trips to visit their parents in Bumfuck pay them peanuts for beautiful Brandywine tomatoes such as these. The life of a farmer is by and large thankless. And now that I find myself here, in a part of America I can only presume is West Bumfuck, feeding people whose livelihoods are otherwise sustained by fucking cuddly bears--well, we have passed the province of "thankless" straight into "miserable".
Oh, please, please don't start with the groaning and moaning. It's my garden; I'll cry if I want to. You dimwits will get your grub, and it's all beautiful to boot. Fresh as a fresh-cut daisy. Your salads and fruity yoghurts will never be the same. My thumbs are greener than Greenland--Iceland as well, if you must get technical. Tell you what: giving soul such as I am, I'll quote you no price. I will only ask some small favours. Some tokens of your patronage.
You! With the slack jaw! I want those fucking toucans out of here. These fields on my watch will be free of randy psychic whatsits. They broadcast too loudly and all my brain feeds get clogged up with mangy, feathery wildlife programmes that Animal Planet would only dare show once the kiddies are off to dreamland. Not only is that unacceptable in itself, but the weather's getting terrible for tin hats. My poor head would scald. And you, the young lady salivating at my strawberries--I need a hose. No, I do not require "bros" beforehand and I haven't the faintest why you think you sound clever. I am a gardener. I need water.
And you--zombies? Really? Zombies? Well, if you'll insist on dragging your feet like an audience of sad lepers, at least tread along the rows. That way your falling limbs can fertilize the beans. A finger every five feet or so ought to do it. If you feel anything bigger like an arm or a leg hanging by a thread, I'll direct you to the onions. They could badly use the nitrogen, I'll detail the science for you later if you like ...
... why, yes, the key ingredient in that Tuesday soup you lot whinge about is onions. Did I miss out on a bit of exposition? Oh, you don't like a bit of chap in your curry? Bloody picky eaters. Haven't you ever heard the saying "you are what you eat"?
Poll Vote!
Character: Hidari Shoutarou
Series: Kamen Rider W (Double)
Age: early 20s
Job: Camp Private Investigator
Canon: In the windy city of Fuuto, devices resembling USB Drives called GaiaMemories are being distributed on the black market. A person who uses a GaiaMemory becomes a monster called a 'Dopant' and becomes powerful enough to cause complete chaos. However, private detective Hidari Shoutarou and his mysterious young partner Philip protect the city from these Dopants, working together as one detective and also as one hero; transforming together into Kamen Rider W.
The literal body of the operation, Shoutarou wants to be everyone's textbook hard-boiled detective; suave, infallible and unswayed no matter the situation. He even goes as far as to think in internal monologues. Unfortunately, Shoutarou doesn't really fit the hard-boiled bill. Instead he's loud, short-tempered and driven largely by impulse - leading to his own partner coining his much-loathed nickname of 'half-boiled'. That doesn't stop him from trying and succeeding at actually being a detective; he's fairly smart and has a knack for info-gathering. Shoutarou empathises easily with others and wears his heart on his sleeve, in contrasting companionship with his partner's almost pure logic. With his late mentor’s wills in his heart and hats on his head, he takes their jobs both as a detective and a Rider very seriously and always puts the good of his city and his comrades first, even above his own life.
Sample Post:
Summer camp. A seemingly innocent place, but underneath that projection of childish fun times and laughter is a murderous plot so terrible that I was called here to help solve it. The director, Sayre-san, obviously has good taste; able to find someone such as me even when she must be grieving over her lo--
--hey, don't interrupt a guy when he's concentrating! You've been groaning in my ear for about a minute, what do you want? Can't you see I'm busy scouting the area? It's an essential part of my job, you know, and if I don't get it done it'll be on your... not your head, since most of that seems to be missing. Most of you seems to be missing. And to think, some people have the gall to call me half a man, when there’s specimens like you around... Look, if you have a case, I’ll put you on the waiting list, but Sayre-san’s situation is taking maximum priority right-- what? ...I see, you’re looking for brains? Well, sorry, I haven’t got any brains.
Oi, let go! This detective has a hard job to do, so if that’s all you’re going to ask, save it for later... agh, not that kind of hard, you-! A man among men lifestyle, that’s what it is to be hard-boi-- let me finish! It’s completely different, not what you were saying anyway. My hard-boiled lifestyle is nothing crude like that at all, so stop- touching- hands off the hat! You’re sure persistent about getting your own case looked at, but clinging to me like that isn’t going to make it happen any faster.
--Hey! You waste my time grabbing me like that and now you’re just wandering off?! It’s too bad that nobody around here seems to have any brains at all, but if you don’t want my help, don’t bother me about it!
Poll Vote!
Character: Clint Eastwood The Man With No Name
Series: The Dollars series
Character age: ...early 30s?
Character job: Camp BAMF for hire
Canon: Let's return to a time when wild west was still wild, men were men, and the way of the gun was a necessity rather than a choice. At the close of the Civil War, the southwest has its fair share of outlaws and corrupt bosses lording over tiny towns. With the law spread so thin, mercenaries are the rule of the day and the man with no name is one such mercenary. He drifts from town to town, staying only long enough to make what money can be made before moving on. He doesn't care if the money is from bounties for bringing in criminals, or from the corrupt town bosses, so long as he gets his share and can ride away to the next town at the end of the job. He'll even work with an outlaw or two to collect the same bounty from several towns.
Money may be the nameless wanderer's primary motivation and his morals may seem a bit rusty but he does have a heart under that gruff exterior. He'll happily cheat the law or play both sides in a conflict against each other but he'll also risk his life to reunite a woman with her family or take the time to comfort a dying man. In between rare appearances of this softer side, he is a rugged and unflappable man of very few words and confidence that at times borders on arrogance. At least, until his intelligence, creativity, and skills let him achieve what he sets out to do, even if it seems hopeless.
Sample app:
"Bad-Ass Mother Fucker" is it? I've been called worse, but I can say for a fact that I've never met your mothers, gentlemen. Any woman that could have a son so... hairy and purple must be very memorable. I almost mistook you for trained apes until you helpfully demonstrated your skills with those fine shotguns of yours. I'll just have take you on your word about your other guns. Since I'm just passing through and we can agree I've never "done" your mothers, let's all holster our--well, you can't blame a man for trying, can you?
You two can't kill me before I get one of you, and I can't get both of you before one of you gets a shot off. In a word, what we have here is a standoff. If we were in Mexico, I'd even agree with our feathered audience over there and call it a Mexican one. Place doesn't matter much in a standoff, but I will say that the cemetery is convenient. With all these open, empty graves around us, the undertaker will only have to roll the losers in and shovel on some dirt. I'd go so far as to say we're doing him a favor and it's a not a bad thing to be in the undertaker's good graces. You never know when you'll be needing his services, isn't that right, Mr. Undertaker?
Don't bother getting up; I don't care where a man chooses to take his naps. I thought you were down there working. Keep your head down, my friend. It wouldn't do to see you lose more parts than you already have. Me and these gentlemen up here will be done in just a minute or two.
Tired of talking already, gentlemen? Alright by me; I'd put good money on you fellows having short memories, so go ahead and shoot me.
... That went well. Never thought I'd meet a gunman too stupid to keep track of how many bullets his gun holds. Maybe they really were trained apes after all. Care for a smoke, Mr. Undertaker? No? Well, I'll leave you to your burying; I've got a job to inquire about.
Poll Vote!
Character: Ginshu
Series: Amatsuki
Character Age: Mid 20s.
Job: Interspecies Relations Specialist
Canon: A failed history class turns Rikugou Tokidoki's life upside down after a virtual history exhibit traps him in the Edo period where he, of course, discovers happiness, the true meaning of friendship and a whole bunch of slightly creepy, yet also slightly endearing people and demons.
One of these people would be Ginshu, the head priestess of the Sakagami Shrine. Cursed by a snake demon to die every day and be reborn into a scaled, pain-wracked body, Ginshu is a character with many different sides to her personality. Even her gender is not entirely distinct, Ginshu was physically male before the curse but adopted a female identity when chosen to be the head priestess. Ginshu seems to have few inhibitions and seems very unconcerned with what is "proper" despite her status. She generally seems to be a kind, if occasionally sarcastic, figure who loves to tease, cook, and use tildes and heartmark but Ginshu also has a darker side to her personality. She can be calculating and manipulative and is not afraid to take advantage of people in order to achieve what she wants. What she wants includes (sort of) the destruction of all demons, and her own death, unfortunately.
Sample Post:
Now, as I'm sure you all know, Camp Fuck You Die is home to a large amount of interesting people! Yourselves included, of course~ Of course one wouldn't have to associate with these kind of people if given a choice, but when one is here at camp it is an absolute requirement. Oh my, no, of course I love associating with all of you! Especially when your arms are falling off in that enticing way that they so often do.
But I can't spend all day flattering you so perhaps we should move on, hmm? Now, while choosing me for this particular position seems more like a callous joke than anything, given my... condition, I am certain that all of you could benefit from my unique perspective on, ah, whatever it is an "Interspecies Relations Specialist" is supposed to give their unique perspectives on, hmm~? Ah, well, you are a species, aren't you? Even if you are having somewhat of a difficult time holding yourselves together.
-Yes, yes, I have noticed that the campers seem to avoid you all. My, I haven't the slightest idea why, of course, since you are all such a lovely collection of torsos and limbs. Might it help if you didn't wander around moaning in that particular fashion? It is faintly alarming, and you could see how you might be giving the impression that you actually want to eat their brains, since that seems to be all that you talk about. Perhaps try moaning something more friendly, if you absolutely must go around like that. You could try not biting everything in sight, as well. It's a wonder what some amount of small self-control can do for a friendship~
Now, when it comes to the other creatures here, I'm afraid I will be mostly useless at the moment. I'm afraid I just haven't had much experience with any of them. It's a shame, I know! Ah, though, from what I do know, Marcy-san would always welcome a swim in her lake! I've heard it is an exhilarating experience~♥
Poll Vote!