capeandcowl application
[PLAYER INFO]
NAME: Ali
AGE: 24
JOURNAL: aliccolo
IM: aliccolo
E-MAIL: aliccolo@gmail.com
RETURNING: Yes; 4; Matt Murdock, Angelica Jones, Bobbi Morse & Laurie Juspeczyk
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Dr. John A. Zoidberg
FANDOM: Futurama
CHRONOLOGY: Post Into the Wild Green Yonder
CLASS: While not a hero in the classic sense, Zoidberg has his moments of true heroism.
SUPERHERO NAME: The Lovable Tramp
ALTER EGO: Dr. John A. Zoidberg, a medical corporation
BACKGROUND:
John A. Zoidberg was born on the planet Decapod 10 circa 2965, to Sam and Norm Zoidberg. His parents died following the mating process, as is typical of his species, and he was raised by a relative named Sadie who pressured him into becoming a doctor instead of pursuing his dream of becoming a comedian like his uncle Harold. Eventually Zoidberg did become a doctor, obtaining his Ph.D. in art history. Armed with the new moniker Doctor Zoidberg, he left Decapod 10 for Earth, intent on making a living as a wealthy doctor.
Unfortunately for Doctor Zoidberg, he knew nothing about human anatomy and was completely unqualified to practice medicine. However, through a series of never revealed events, he came to be employed by Professor Hubert Farnsworth, mad inventor/owner of the Planet Express delivery service. Zoidberg became the ship's doctor/company physician, though the company had no need for his services. In fact, it is debatable as to whether or not he is even technically an employee of Planet Express, considering he does not draw a pay check and is essentially a squatter in their HQ. It's been implied that Zoidberg stays with Farnsworth in an attempt to earn his freedom.
For years, Zoidberg has been an essentially unwanted member of the Planet Express crew, causing calamity and mischief alongside fellow employees Fry, Bender, Leela, Amy, Hermes, and the Professor. Throughout his tenure with Planet Express, Zoidberg had many misadventures. He was drafted into the Democratic Order of Planets (DOOP) Army as a surgeon, he obtained degrees in murderology and murderonomy, and he even traveled back in time to 1947, where he was captured by the U.S. Army near Roswell, New Mexico.
PERSONALITY:
Doctor Zoidberg is the only inhabitant of Earth deemed nice by Robot Santa Claus, and as you would expect, he is genuinely a nice, gentle individual. His most defining characteristic is how incredibly naive he is. He is innocent to a fault, easily tricked out of money and other valuables, and is often the target of cruelty. He is a poor judge of character, often falling in with nefarious characters only to be swindled out of the few valuables he has.
Despite living on Earth for the last 20 years at least, he is still clueless when it comes to human customs and understanding what is socially acceptable. This often causes problems for him when he tries to interact with people. He has a habit of barging into situations where his presence is either unwanted, disallowed, or both. Zoidberg just does not understand when he is doing something inappropriate.
Zoidberg is generally despised by those who know him best. This is most likely due to his clingy, desperate nature, for as gentle and innocent as he is, he is also incredibly annoying, and his general ineptitude regarding just about everything can be very frustrating. His closest companions will insult him, often to his face, only really appreciating him if they believe him to be deceased or otherwise in peril.
He is a pushover, more likely to be neglected and/or abused than to stand up for himself, though he has had instances of chutzpah. His species is subject to powerful reproductive urges that transform the mild-mannered Zoidberg into a raging, testosterone fueled beast. Additionally, he has stood up for his friends on multiple occasions, and has willingly endured injuries for their sake, even though they were entirely ungrateful of his efforts.
Zoidberg is one of the stingiest, cheapest individuals you'll ever meet. He hoards things he deems to be valuable (usually worthless junk/moldy food) and mooches off of anyone he can. He is poor, penniless, and indeed homeless, and he is often found scrounging in dumpsters looking for something to eat. He once sold all of his Planet Express stock for a sandwich, an incident highlighting his ignorance and his lust for food. And just as he lusts for food, he also lusts for money and the lifestyle afforded to the rich, even if he isn't exactly sure what such a lifestyle would entail.
He is also incompetent when it comes to practicing medicine. He has no real medical training, and any anatomical knowledge he possesses comes from TV commercials or other non-academic means. Indeed, he borders on malpractice at all times, despite his claims to be an expert when it comes to treating humans. Medical treatment from Doctor Zoidberg often leaves the patient in worse condition than they were in before seeking his assistance, though he rarely, if ever, sees himself as causing harm to his patients.
POWER:
Reverting to lobster form: Zoidberg can, at will, revert back to his original lobster body. While in his lobster body he has a tough outer shell, powerful claws in place of his hands, enhanced strength and durability, the ability to excrete ink, salt water, fresh water, and other liquids, the ability to consume any item and gain nourishment from it, and excellent scuttling skills. He is also able to breathe under water and communicate with sea creatures while in lobster form.
The ability to determine an individual's mortal state: Zoidberg can tell just by looking at them whether a person is alive, dead, vampire, zombie, robot, alien, etc.
Party crashing: Zoidberg has an uncanny knack for finding awesome parties and crashing them, instantly nullifying any happenin' shindig and rendering it totally lame. How this ability works in not exactly known, but somehow he is always able to locate parties he isn't invited to and make himself right at home in them. The lone exception to this power are Jewish religious festivals. He is unable to attend these functions, try as he might.
[CHARACTER SAMPLES]
COMMUNITY POST (FIRST PERSON) SAMPLE:
VIDEO
[The camera shows darkness, though through the darkness there are signs of moisture. After a few seconds of black, a uvula can be clearly seen. A few more seconds pass before the camera is pulled out completely, passing through the bright orange mouth frills that serve as Zoidberg’s lips. The frills cling to the device momentarily before releasing it. Then suddenly: the feed cuts out.
...
Only to resume about a minute later! This time, Zoidberg is sitting thoughtfully before the camera, near what appears to be a duck pond.]
Friends, friends! I have wonderful news! The row-butt woman called me a hero!
[He waits a moment, anticipation present in that hideously strange face. Apparently he doesn’t quite understand how the communicator works. Either that, or he’s waiting for someone to scold him.]
Friends? Hello? It’s Zoidberg, the Lovable Tramp, here to save the day!
[Every second that passes sees a change in his emotional state. First he seems indignant.]
Bah! How dare they? Always ignoring lowly Zoidberg, so high and mighty with their fancy space ships and their personal possessions. Bah! Now Zoidberg has a possession of his own! And not just this fancy phone-a-mah-jig, but keys to an apartment! That’s right! My own apartment. And you’re not invited to my housewarming party.
[But that temporary rant soon evaporates into something more profound. More... hideous. Now, he appears very remorseful.]
Friends, please, I implore you, show mercy on this pitiful lobster. This silent treatment, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I beg of you... Professor? Hermes? Row-butt?
Anyone?
[Those strange little mouth frills are now covering his eyes as he cries, disgusting, horrible sobbing sounds are emitted, and he cries genuine tears for several seconds before a claw comes to the camera and the transmission ends.]
LOGS POST (THIRD PERSON) SAMPLE:
The City was filled with so many strange and unusual sights and sounds that Zoidberg found himself both at home and overwhelmed by his surroundings. Old fashioned automobiles, using genuine wheels even, parading down the communal thoroughfares, inefficiently transporting the populace from one locale to the next; street vendors offering pretzels with mustard and hotdogs with relish in the place of the Poppler stands the dotted many street corners in New New York. And the pigeons, great Gumbercules, the pigeons! Swooping around, cooing and fluttering around the place as if they owned it. What Zoidberg wouldn’t give for the old, familiar sights of owls dive-bombing the sidewalks instead of those grey ghostly birds.
The City was backwards, it was, like living in one of those museum dioramas, or in an old smell-o-vision movie film. Sure, he was used to being gaped at, being told he was hideously ugly, being despised by those around him, but at least back home in the future he had his friends to turn to. Who did he have here? Nothing. No one. Just strangers, screaming in horror at the terrible lobster man rummaging through their trash cans and trying to eat a stray kitten. The adjustment would take some time.
Finding himself depressed, and starving, he scuttled aimlessly around the streets, picking up morsels of garbage where he could to stave off the growling of his freshwater and saltwater stomachs. It was tiring work, to be sure, and the pickings were terrible, what with the pigeons always diving in and stealing the choicest of snacks. Zoidberg was growing more and more agitated, and after scuttling around for an hour or two, he stopped at the entrance to the largest park he’d ever seen. And what’s more, he could see people sitting on the manicured lawns, people with blankets, people eating from picnic baskets!
He approached a couple, eying their sandwiches hungrily, “Pardon me, friends, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re spilling crumbs all over your sweaters. Perhaps I could haul those away for you, take them off your claws...?”
Terrified gasps were the only responses he got as the couple bolted away, screaming about monsters invading, leaving their half-eaten sandwiches behind. Not exactly a warm reception, but how could he let such a feast sit there for the ants? And their blanket would make a fetching cape. Now he could truly be the hero that the row-butt woman declared him to be!
Zoidberg devoured the sandwiches quickly, belching loudly once his course was complete. Deviously, he scanned the park for more picnickers, whooping loudly to himself as he set his plan in motion. Oh yes, Zoidberg’s stomachs would be full tonight!
Perhaps the City wasn’t so bad after all.
FINAL NOTES ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER:
N/A
NAME: Ali
AGE: 24
JOURNAL: aliccolo
IM: aliccolo
E-MAIL: aliccolo@gmail.com
RETURNING: Yes; 4; Matt Murdock, Angelica Jones, Bobbi Morse & Laurie Juspeczyk
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Dr. John A. Zoidberg
FANDOM: Futurama
CHRONOLOGY: Post Into the Wild Green Yonder
CLASS: While not a hero in the classic sense, Zoidberg has his moments of true heroism.
SUPERHERO NAME: The Lovable Tramp
ALTER EGO: Dr. John A. Zoidberg, a medical corporation
BACKGROUND:
John A. Zoidberg was born on the planet Decapod 10 circa 2965, to Sam and Norm Zoidberg. His parents died following the mating process, as is typical of his species, and he was raised by a relative named Sadie who pressured him into becoming a doctor instead of pursuing his dream of becoming a comedian like his uncle Harold. Eventually Zoidberg did become a doctor, obtaining his Ph.D. in art history. Armed with the new moniker Doctor Zoidberg, he left Decapod 10 for Earth, intent on making a living as a wealthy doctor.
Unfortunately for Doctor Zoidberg, he knew nothing about human anatomy and was completely unqualified to practice medicine. However, through a series of never revealed events, he came to be employed by Professor Hubert Farnsworth, mad inventor/owner of the Planet Express delivery service. Zoidberg became the ship's doctor/company physician, though the company had no need for his services. In fact, it is debatable as to whether or not he is even technically an employee of Planet Express, considering he does not draw a pay check and is essentially a squatter in their HQ. It's been implied that Zoidberg stays with Farnsworth in an attempt to earn his freedom.
For years, Zoidberg has been an essentially unwanted member of the Planet Express crew, causing calamity and mischief alongside fellow employees Fry, Bender, Leela, Amy, Hermes, and the Professor. Throughout his tenure with Planet Express, Zoidberg had many misadventures. He was drafted into the Democratic Order of Planets (DOOP) Army as a surgeon, he obtained degrees in murderology and murderonomy, and he even traveled back in time to 1947, where he was captured by the U.S. Army near Roswell, New Mexico.
PERSONALITY:
Doctor Zoidberg is the only inhabitant of Earth deemed nice by Robot Santa Claus, and as you would expect, he is genuinely a nice, gentle individual. His most defining characteristic is how incredibly naive he is. He is innocent to a fault, easily tricked out of money and other valuables, and is often the target of cruelty. He is a poor judge of character, often falling in with nefarious characters only to be swindled out of the few valuables he has.
Despite living on Earth for the last 20 years at least, he is still clueless when it comes to human customs and understanding what is socially acceptable. This often causes problems for him when he tries to interact with people. He has a habit of barging into situations where his presence is either unwanted, disallowed, or both. Zoidberg just does not understand when he is doing something inappropriate.
Zoidberg is generally despised by those who know him best. This is most likely due to his clingy, desperate nature, for as gentle and innocent as he is, he is also incredibly annoying, and his general ineptitude regarding just about everything can be very frustrating. His closest companions will insult him, often to his face, only really appreciating him if they believe him to be deceased or otherwise in peril.
He is a pushover, more likely to be neglected and/or abused than to stand up for himself, though he has had instances of chutzpah. His species is subject to powerful reproductive urges that transform the mild-mannered Zoidberg into a raging, testosterone fueled beast. Additionally, he has stood up for his friends on multiple occasions, and has willingly endured injuries for their sake, even though they were entirely ungrateful of his efforts.
Zoidberg is one of the stingiest, cheapest individuals you'll ever meet. He hoards things he deems to be valuable (usually worthless junk/moldy food) and mooches off of anyone he can. He is poor, penniless, and indeed homeless, and he is often found scrounging in dumpsters looking for something to eat. He once sold all of his Planet Express stock for a sandwich, an incident highlighting his ignorance and his lust for food. And just as he lusts for food, he also lusts for money and the lifestyle afforded to the rich, even if he isn't exactly sure what such a lifestyle would entail.
He is also incompetent when it comes to practicing medicine. He has no real medical training, and any anatomical knowledge he possesses comes from TV commercials or other non-academic means. Indeed, he borders on malpractice at all times, despite his claims to be an expert when it comes to treating humans. Medical treatment from Doctor Zoidberg often leaves the patient in worse condition than they were in before seeking his assistance, though he rarely, if ever, sees himself as causing harm to his patients.
POWER:
Reverting to lobster form: Zoidberg can, at will, revert back to his original lobster body. While in his lobster body he has a tough outer shell, powerful claws in place of his hands, enhanced strength and durability, the ability to excrete ink, salt water, fresh water, and other liquids, the ability to consume any item and gain nourishment from it, and excellent scuttling skills. He is also able to breathe under water and communicate with sea creatures while in lobster form.
The ability to determine an individual's mortal state: Zoidberg can tell just by looking at them whether a person is alive, dead, vampire, zombie, robot, alien, etc.
Party crashing: Zoidberg has an uncanny knack for finding awesome parties and crashing them, instantly nullifying any happenin' shindig and rendering it totally lame. How this ability works in not exactly known, but somehow he is always able to locate parties he isn't invited to and make himself right at home in them. The lone exception to this power are Jewish religious festivals. He is unable to attend these functions, try as he might.
[CHARACTER SAMPLES]
COMMUNITY POST (FIRST PERSON) SAMPLE:
VIDEO
[The camera shows darkness, though through the darkness there are signs of moisture. After a few seconds of black, a uvula can be clearly seen. A few more seconds pass before the camera is pulled out completely, passing through the bright orange mouth frills that serve as Zoidberg’s lips. The frills cling to the device momentarily before releasing it. Then suddenly: the feed cuts out.
...
Only to resume about a minute later! This time, Zoidberg is sitting thoughtfully before the camera, near what appears to be a duck pond.]
Friends, friends! I have wonderful news! The row-butt woman called me a hero!
[He waits a moment, anticipation present in that hideously strange face. Apparently he doesn’t quite understand how the communicator works. Either that, or he’s waiting for someone to scold him.]
Friends? Hello? It’s Zoidberg, the Lovable Tramp, here to save the day!
[Every second that passes sees a change in his emotional state. First he seems indignant.]
Bah! How dare they? Always ignoring lowly Zoidberg, so high and mighty with their fancy space ships and their personal possessions. Bah! Now Zoidberg has a possession of his own! And not just this fancy phone-a-mah-jig, but keys to an apartment! That’s right! My own apartment. And you’re not invited to my housewarming party.
[But that temporary rant soon evaporates into something more profound. More... hideous. Now, he appears very remorseful.]
Friends, please, I implore you, show mercy on this pitiful lobster. This silent treatment, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I beg of you... Professor? Hermes? Row-butt?
Anyone?
[Those strange little mouth frills are now covering his eyes as he cries, disgusting, horrible sobbing sounds are emitted, and he cries genuine tears for several seconds before a claw comes to the camera and the transmission ends.]
LOGS POST (THIRD PERSON) SAMPLE:
The City was filled with so many strange and unusual sights and sounds that Zoidberg found himself both at home and overwhelmed by his surroundings. Old fashioned automobiles, using genuine wheels even, parading down the communal thoroughfares, inefficiently transporting the populace from one locale to the next; street vendors offering pretzels with mustard and hotdogs with relish in the place of the Poppler stands the dotted many street corners in New New York. And the pigeons, great Gumbercules, the pigeons! Swooping around, cooing and fluttering around the place as if they owned it. What Zoidberg wouldn’t give for the old, familiar sights of owls dive-bombing the sidewalks instead of those grey ghostly birds.
The City was backwards, it was, like living in one of those museum dioramas, or in an old smell-o-vision movie film. Sure, he was used to being gaped at, being told he was hideously ugly, being despised by those around him, but at least back home in the future he had his friends to turn to. Who did he have here? Nothing. No one. Just strangers, screaming in horror at the terrible lobster man rummaging through their trash cans and trying to eat a stray kitten. The adjustment would take some time.
Finding himself depressed, and starving, he scuttled aimlessly around the streets, picking up morsels of garbage where he could to stave off the growling of his freshwater and saltwater stomachs. It was tiring work, to be sure, and the pickings were terrible, what with the pigeons always diving in and stealing the choicest of snacks. Zoidberg was growing more and more agitated, and after scuttling around for an hour or two, he stopped at the entrance to the largest park he’d ever seen. And what’s more, he could see people sitting on the manicured lawns, people with blankets, people eating from picnic baskets!
He approached a couple, eying their sandwiches hungrily, “Pardon me, friends, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re spilling crumbs all over your sweaters. Perhaps I could haul those away for you, take them off your claws...?”
Terrified gasps were the only responses he got as the couple bolted away, screaming about monsters invading, leaving their half-eaten sandwiches behind. Not exactly a warm reception, but how could he let such a feast sit there for the ants? And their blanket would make a fetching cape. Now he could truly be the hero that the row-butt woman declared him to be!
Zoidberg devoured the sandwiches quickly, belching loudly once his course was complete. Deviously, he scanned the park for more picnickers, whooping loudly to himself as he set his plan in motion. Oh yes, Zoidberg’s stomachs would be full tonight!
Perhaps the City wasn’t so bad after all.
FINAL NOTES ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER:
N/A