Devil's See App
C H A R A C T E R
☓ Name: Solf J. Kimblee
☓ Series: Fullmetal Alchemist (manga)
☓ Reference: Kimblee Wikipedia page
☓ Canon point: after Pride is killed and Kimblee joins the stone;Chapter 106
☓ Age: Mid-thirties physically, as for mentally I'm not sure you can put an age on sociopathy/crazy
☓ Background: The FMA wikia Kimblee page
☓ Personality: Kimblee is a man who works solely for himself and his interests. He joins the homunculi and Father only because he finds the idea "interesting" and wants to see what happens should they win. Survival of the fittest is his motto and he lives by it. That even includes himself in it. Should the opponent outmaneuver him, Kimblee can accept it - though he will not go without a fight obviously.
In the same vein of his motto, he relies wholly on himself. Most people don't trust him and he doesn't trust them in return. Thus the only person who can get the things Kimblee wants done is Kimblee himself. And he prefers it that way. Should he want something, he takes it. Through polite maneuvering, clever words, or force. He enjoyed the use of the Philosopher's stone and didn't want to give it back. So instead he kills the generals who knew he had it and swallowed it to hide that he still had the stone. He is ruthless.
He admires those who follow their convictions, even if said conviction doesn't fit with Kimblee's own beliefs. He openly states that the Rockebells were doing the right thing as doctors: treating the wounded, even if they were enemies. But he doesn't allow that to interfere with his own job as a soldier - removing the enemy threat any way possible.
It's quite clear that he's not "normal". He is a connoisseur of explosions and is constantly trying to make more and more beautiful sounding ones. He joined the military simply because he would have state sanctioned reasons to cause explosions. Note that he is considered a genius at alchemy simply because he reached state alchemist level. Despite his clear enjoyment for destruction and questionable sanity, he was picked out of thousands of other alchemists to be state sanctioned.
He lives for the morally grey and quite enjoys pointing out people's contradictions in their morality. Even back in Ishval he rightly points out that all of them knew what they were getting into when they joined the military and knew that one day they would have to kill. He doesn't repress the fact to his military comrades that he enjoys killing and death. According to him, he remembers every victim and knows that they remember him. He enjoys the satisfaction he gets in a kill and accepts it.
Pity is not in his vocabulary. Should someone get in his way, they are toast. There is no differentiation between man, woman, or child. However, there is no real malice in it either. A victim is a victim. Kimblee will remember the face and move on to the next project, explosion, or task.
That's not to say he isn't capable of malice. Should someone escape him, Kimblee will use that almost photographic memory and hold a grudge. He and Scar have quite the history and anger held toward one another. While Kimblee was quite gleeful at the idea of a rematch, he's annoyed in that he failed to kill the Ishvalan in the first place.
Kimblee is well aware that his nature isn't socially acceptable so he camouflages it with well-bred manners and explains it with strong rhetoric. (See again his discussion on what soldiers are supposed to do in the Ishval campaign.) He can be very polite to the point of almost seeming romantically interested in someone, such as when he and Winry went to Briggs.
Lastly, he is a survivor. War couldn't break him, prison couldn't break him, even the loss of his body couldn't break him. After Pride swallowed him, Kimblee kept himself whole in the swirl of souls in Pride and taunted the homunculus in its final moments.
☓ Abilities: Kimblee's explosion alchemy, done through the tattoos on his hands is the his main ability. He can make a bomb out of whatever he comes in contact with after clapping his hands. It is possible for him to make the explosions happen further away from him by chaining together much smaller explosions until they reach the appropriate location.
Basic survival skills learned from his time in the military.
Regurgitation - should he swallow something not meant for digestion, he can bring it back later.
Photographic memory - "Remember the faces of those you kill, for they will always remember you."
☓ Weaknesses: He likes explosions. A lot. To the point where he will blow a "friend" up should they happen to be in the way of the explosion he's making. Or blow up useful equipment, just because. It's all for the sake of creating a beautiful explosion. He could be accused of being an artist and having the "artist's blindness" as it were, in that respect.
He knows that he is not the social norm nor that most of his behavior is acceptable. He hides it by lying and a gentlemanly veneer. So being trustworthy is not something he can be accused of. And in turn, he doesn't trust others. He'd rather do things on his own, believing others to be inferior and more apt to fail. He only does things for his own ends, making allegiances only if the others are interesting enough, not for the betterment of the community or whatever.
He has no qualms killing if a person gets in the way of something he wants or needs. Another point in the "not trustworthy" box. And while he does have the sense to hide his ruthlessness sometimes, he doesn't go overboard. It's possible to catch him, especially if his alchemy isn't functioning its best.
As for physical, he is mortal. He has very basic combat skills which have become rusty due to his reliance on his alchemy. And he probably won't have that many friends to help him through the healing process should he get hurt.
☓ Strengths: That sociopathy mentioned early actually can work to his advantage. Some of those lures that the spirits throw out (such as the baby cry) will be promptly ignored by Kimblee with his "survival of the fittest" attitude. And as he's dealt with homunculi and chimeras, the spirits won't disturb him as much as they would a normal person. Weird is something of a norm for him.
He has the training to survive in the wilderness - enough for even a war torn desert city. This includes trapping/hunting for food. He also would be able to make a fairly sturdy shelter, or be able to repair one already made.
That genius mind does include things other than just alchemy. He's well aware of how things are composed, how things break down, and how such chemicals/elements might be used. There is also his memory - he remembers faces with frightening detail and he could use that skill on other things as well. Provided they are of use to him.
And in the end, he is his own man. That loner attitude helped him survive a war and multiple conflicts. And as he does most his work himself, there is dependability - should the task interest him. He is quite skilled in rhetoric so those of a more morally grey or survivalist attitude could be persuaded to follow him. In theory, he could be one of the leaders of the community if he so wished. (Provided, of course, people listen.)
☓ Intranet post sample:
[Static. The static gives way to a whine as someone turns a dial to adjust the frequencies.]
Hello?
[More static and whining. He's watched others do this, how hard can it be?]
This is Solf Kimblee, looking for... anyone. Do you read?
I arrived - washed up - only an hour ago.
I'd be very appreciative of some information. [Pause. A frown colors his voice.] And of some dry clothes.
[He mutters as silence answers him. He's either not operating it right or he's the only one here. Neither option appeals to him at the moment.]
Hm.
Well. If you are out there and are just shy, let me introduce myself. My name is Solf Kimblee. It's a pleasure to meet you.
I'm looking for any other [Survivors? Souls?] people out there.
I'll be setting up a shelter in the house on the edge of "town". [It's said dubiously. He's seen better towns in Ishvalan refugee camps.]
Think of this as an open invitation to join me. This nice weather won't last forever.
[A beat.]
Our best chance here is to band together.
Over and out. [It's tacked on and procedural. And perhaps the slightest bit embarrassed? Well, that's for you to decide.]
☓ Log post sample: Kimblee wandered through the abandoned town, trying to figure out what happened. The few houses he explored showed no outward signs of attack. Nor of habitation. There was an odd mixture of furniture and appliances; some he might see in Amestrian homes, others completely unrecognizable. He tried one of the radios but only got static on every channel. No blood stains or bodies. No life.
That wasn't quite true. He heard some bird calls in the distance that he couldn't identify and he was certain he saw a lizard of some kind on the beach. So animal life prospered here. And clearly humans did too, at one point.
He frowned as he continued looking. He didn't necessarily want to find people, he could survive just fine on his own. But the fact that from what he saw they just seemingly disappeared disturbed him. Bodies don't just disappear. Even with the help of a Philosopher's stone, there would still be some evidence of what happened. Blast marks or something.
Further on, chickens clucked.
Chickens?
In front of him now was a large building, larger than the residences he'd been looking at.
The scent of manure pervaded the air. And if he wasn't mistaken, it was fresh. A look inside proved him right. Cows and horses were stabled, looking well fed and content as any domesticated animal could be. A couple of chickens pecked at some bugs in the straw on the ground.
Things were getting very strange.
Someone had to be taking care of these creatures. They even looked groomed! Kimblee's eyes narrowed as he tried to find any sign of who was doing this. Again, no evidence of human beings. The animals ignored him, clearly used to seeing people. With a noise of annoyance he moved on.
He passed another barn, this one also stocked with animals and their necessities. At the very least, he wouldn't go hungry. More and more though, he felt this place was setting him up for a trap. He wasn't sure how they were trying to catch him. Or why. He wasn't even sure of who was trying to get him. But why else would there be such well cared for animals and no caretakers?
Finally, he came to a building larger than even the barns. It was quite unassuming from the outside - possibly just a bigger barn or show ring or something. Closer, he could hear flies buzzing, far more than what had been around the barns. The wind blew towards him and brought the scent of rot with it. Bad enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust. He hoped that the scent wouldn't stay on his suit - he couldn't bear that.
He decided on removing his jacket before going in, hanging it carefully on a fence post far enough away from the rotten building so the smell wouldn't reach it. He braced himself before opening the door. As he thought, the smell was almost overpowering. He regretted not going back to one of the houses to steal a rag to tie over his nose and mouth.
Arm covering his face he moved forward through a small antechamber. Small cubbies and hooks on the walls; people would have changed clothes here to prepare for whatever was inside. A second door stood closed before him.
The smell got stronger as he moved closer to opening the door. And he was fairly certain he could hear the buzzing of flies through it as well. He took a deep breath and opened it.
Now the smell really was overpowering. This was going to be a quick trip through here. He'd have to come back with different clothes and some way to breathe to do a through exploration. He made a mental note to stand up wind of this place should he decide to "do away" with it. Though perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea - that might disseminate the smell to the whole island. As he gradually got used to it, he began to recognize the smell as rotting flesh. He arched an eyebrow at that realization and moved forward.
☓ Name: Solf J. Kimblee
☓ Series: Fullmetal Alchemist (manga)
☓ Reference: Kimblee Wikipedia page
☓ Canon point: after Pride is killed and Kimblee joins the stone;Chapter 106
☓ Age: Mid-thirties physically, as for mentally I'm not sure you can put an age on sociopathy/crazy
☓ Background: The FMA wikia Kimblee page
☓ Personality: Kimblee is a man who works solely for himself and his interests. He joins the homunculi and Father only because he finds the idea "interesting" and wants to see what happens should they win. Survival of the fittest is his motto and he lives by it. That even includes himself in it. Should the opponent outmaneuver him, Kimblee can accept it - though he will not go without a fight obviously.
In the same vein of his motto, he relies wholly on himself. Most people don't trust him and he doesn't trust them in return. Thus the only person who can get the things Kimblee wants done is Kimblee himself. And he prefers it that way. Should he want something, he takes it. Through polite maneuvering, clever words, or force. He enjoyed the use of the Philosopher's stone and didn't want to give it back. So instead he kills the generals who knew he had it and swallowed it to hide that he still had the stone. He is ruthless.
He admires those who follow their convictions, even if said conviction doesn't fit with Kimblee's own beliefs. He openly states that the Rockebells were doing the right thing as doctors: treating the wounded, even if they were enemies. But he doesn't allow that to interfere with his own job as a soldier - removing the enemy threat any way possible.
It's quite clear that he's not "normal". He is a connoisseur of explosions and is constantly trying to make more and more beautiful sounding ones. He joined the military simply because he would have state sanctioned reasons to cause explosions. Note that he is considered a genius at alchemy simply because he reached state alchemist level. Despite his clear enjoyment for destruction and questionable sanity, he was picked out of thousands of other alchemists to be state sanctioned.
He lives for the morally grey and quite enjoys pointing out people's contradictions in their morality. Even back in Ishval he rightly points out that all of them knew what they were getting into when they joined the military and knew that one day they would have to kill. He doesn't repress the fact to his military comrades that he enjoys killing and death. According to him, he remembers every victim and knows that they remember him. He enjoys the satisfaction he gets in a kill and accepts it.
Pity is not in his vocabulary. Should someone get in his way, they are toast. There is no differentiation between man, woman, or child. However, there is no real malice in it either. A victim is a victim. Kimblee will remember the face and move on to the next project, explosion, or task.
That's not to say he isn't capable of malice. Should someone escape him, Kimblee will use that almost photographic memory and hold a grudge. He and Scar have quite the history and anger held toward one another. While Kimblee was quite gleeful at the idea of a rematch, he's annoyed in that he failed to kill the Ishvalan in the first place.
Kimblee is well aware that his nature isn't socially acceptable so he camouflages it with well-bred manners and explains it with strong rhetoric. (See again his discussion on what soldiers are supposed to do in the Ishval campaign.) He can be very polite to the point of almost seeming romantically interested in someone, such as when he and Winry went to Briggs.
Lastly, he is a survivor. War couldn't break him, prison couldn't break him, even the loss of his body couldn't break him. After Pride swallowed him, Kimblee kept himself whole in the swirl of souls in Pride and taunted the homunculus in its final moments.
☓ Abilities: Kimblee's explosion alchemy, done through the tattoos on his hands is the his main ability. He can make a bomb out of whatever he comes in contact with after clapping his hands. It is possible for him to make the explosions happen further away from him by chaining together much smaller explosions until they reach the appropriate location.
Basic survival skills learned from his time in the military.
Regurgitation - should he swallow something not meant for digestion, he can bring it back later.
Photographic memory - "Remember the faces of those you kill, for they will always remember you."
☓ Weaknesses: He likes explosions. A lot. To the point where he will blow a "friend" up should they happen to be in the way of the explosion he's making. Or blow up useful equipment, just because. It's all for the sake of creating a beautiful explosion. He could be accused of being an artist and having the "artist's blindness" as it were, in that respect.
He knows that he is not the social norm nor that most of his behavior is acceptable. He hides it by lying and a gentlemanly veneer. So being trustworthy is not something he can be accused of. And in turn, he doesn't trust others. He'd rather do things on his own, believing others to be inferior and more apt to fail. He only does things for his own ends, making allegiances only if the others are interesting enough, not for the betterment of the community or whatever.
He has no qualms killing if a person gets in the way of something he wants or needs. Another point in the "not trustworthy" box. And while he does have the sense to hide his ruthlessness sometimes, he doesn't go overboard. It's possible to catch him, especially if his alchemy isn't functioning its best.
As for physical, he is mortal. He has very basic combat skills which have become rusty due to his reliance on his alchemy. And he probably won't have that many friends to help him through the healing process should he get hurt.
☓ Strengths: That sociopathy mentioned early actually can work to his advantage. Some of those lures that the spirits throw out (such as the baby cry) will be promptly ignored by Kimblee with his "survival of the fittest" attitude. And as he's dealt with homunculi and chimeras, the spirits won't disturb him as much as they would a normal person. Weird is something of a norm for him.
He has the training to survive in the wilderness - enough for even a war torn desert city. This includes trapping/hunting for food. He also would be able to make a fairly sturdy shelter, or be able to repair one already made.
That genius mind does include things other than just alchemy. He's well aware of how things are composed, how things break down, and how such chemicals/elements might be used. There is also his memory - he remembers faces with frightening detail and he could use that skill on other things as well. Provided they are of use to him.
And in the end, he is his own man. That loner attitude helped him survive a war and multiple conflicts. And as he does most his work himself, there is dependability - should the task interest him. He is quite skilled in rhetoric so those of a more morally grey or survivalist attitude could be persuaded to follow him. In theory, he could be one of the leaders of the community if he so wished. (Provided, of course, people listen.)
☓ Intranet post sample:
[Static. The static gives way to a whine as someone turns a dial to adjust the frequencies.]
Hello?
[More static and whining. He's watched others do this, how hard can it be?]
This is Solf Kimblee, looking for... anyone. Do you read?
I arrived - washed up - only an hour ago.
I'd be very appreciative of some information. [Pause. A frown colors his voice.] And of some dry clothes.
[He mutters as silence answers him. He's either not operating it right or he's the only one here. Neither option appeals to him at the moment.]
Hm.
Well. If you are out there and are just shy, let me introduce myself. My name is Solf Kimblee. It's a pleasure to meet you.
I'm looking for any other [Survivors? Souls?] people out there.
I'll be setting up a shelter in the house on the edge of "town". [It's said dubiously. He's seen better towns in Ishvalan refugee camps.]
Think of this as an open invitation to join me. This nice weather won't last forever.
[A beat.]
Our best chance here is to band together.
Over and out. [It's tacked on and procedural. And perhaps the slightest bit embarrassed? Well, that's for you to decide.]
☓ Log post sample: Kimblee wandered through the abandoned town, trying to figure out what happened. The few houses he explored showed no outward signs of attack. Nor of habitation. There was an odd mixture of furniture and appliances; some he might see in Amestrian homes, others completely unrecognizable. He tried one of the radios but only got static on every channel. No blood stains or bodies. No life.
That wasn't quite true. He heard some bird calls in the distance that he couldn't identify and he was certain he saw a lizard of some kind on the beach. So animal life prospered here. And clearly humans did too, at one point.
He frowned as he continued looking. He didn't necessarily want to find people, he could survive just fine on his own. But the fact that from what he saw they just seemingly disappeared disturbed him. Bodies don't just disappear. Even with the help of a Philosopher's stone, there would still be some evidence of what happened. Blast marks or something.
Further on, chickens clucked.
Chickens?
In front of him now was a large building, larger than the residences he'd been looking at.
The scent of manure pervaded the air. And if he wasn't mistaken, it was fresh. A look inside proved him right. Cows and horses were stabled, looking well fed and content as any domesticated animal could be. A couple of chickens pecked at some bugs in the straw on the ground.
Things were getting very strange.
Someone had to be taking care of these creatures. They even looked groomed! Kimblee's eyes narrowed as he tried to find any sign of who was doing this. Again, no evidence of human beings. The animals ignored him, clearly used to seeing people. With a noise of annoyance he moved on.
He passed another barn, this one also stocked with animals and their necessities. At the very least, he wouldn't go hungry. More and more though, he felt this place was setting him up for a trap. He wasn't sure how they were trying to catch him. Or why. He wasn't even sure of who was trying to get him. But why else would there be such well cared for animals and no caretakers?
Finally, he came to a building larger than even the barns. It was quite unassuming from the outside - possibly just a bigger barn or show ring or something. Closer, he could hear flies buzzing, far more than what had been around the barns. The wind blew towards him and brought the scent of rot with it. Bad enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust. He hoped that the scent wouldn't stay on his suit - he couldn't bear that.
He decided on removing his jacket before going in, hanging it carefully on a fence post far enough away from the rotten building so the smell wouldn't reach it. He braced himself before opening the door. As he thought, the smell was almost overpowering. He regretted not going back to one of the houses to steal a rag to tie over his nose and mouth.
Arm covering his face he moved forward through a small antechamber. Small cubbies and hooks on the walls; people would have changed clothes here to prepare for whatever was inside. A second door stood closed before him.
The smell got stronger as he moved closer to opening the door. And he was fairly certain he could hear the buzzing of flies through it as well. He took a deep breath and opened it.
Now the smell really was overpowering. This was going to be a quick trip through here. He'd have to come back with different clothes and some way to breathe to do a through exploration. He made a mental note to stand up wind of this place should he decide to "do away" with it. Though perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea - that might disseminate the smell to the whole island. As he gradually got used to it, he began to recognize the smell as rotting flesh. He arched an eyebrow at that realization and moved forward.