ooc; application
Series: Tales of the Abyss
Series' Medium: Video Game. There’s also a manga out, but it’s relatively similar to the game’s canon so there really is no need to choose that over the other. Also, as a quick note, several interviews have been made by the creators about the finer details of many of the characters. I’m basing and interpreting some of the pre-game History off what I managed to scrounge up, so there is canon evidence to support it.
Character you're applying for: Sync the Tempest
Character's role in their canon: Bad Guy, specifically a member of the God-Generals.
Character's age: 16 (4-5 in replica years)
Character's gender: Male
Character’s “Real Name”: Sir Twanda Titsalot. 8| *killed* Stephen Lansky.
How long have you roleplayed your character, if at all?:
Sync is a relatively new character for me since I’ve only been playing him since October.
Where have you roleplayed in general and/or with this specific character?:
I’ve played Sync in two other RPs before I applied for him in damned, both of which were based on Alternate Universes. (theskytides and alterresonance)
Have you played the game/watched the movie or anime/read the book or comic, etc. that your character hails from?:
Yes, I’ve played through Tales of the Abyss at least twice for my other application for Colonel Jade Curtiss. Even though it’s been half a year I’ve managed to retain a good amount of information regarding the plot and relationships in the game, especially for the Ion replicas. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for anything green and illegal in 96 countries.
Please give us a detailed personal history of your character:
Though the Score was believed to be a means of a path to prosperity there was no doubt that the Planet’s memory also brought copious amounts of grief. Even Fon Masters were given no lenience to the very thing they devoted their lives to. This was a hard lesson learned by the young boy who’d been chosen to take the previous leader’s place as leader of the Order of Lorelei. The boy, named Ion, after learning of his premature demise, became cold, calculated, and matured in a rate that far surpassed any elder.
The Score was tainted, bringing nothing but despair to those who followed it. Destroying Lorelei, along with the rest of mankind, had been a dream the young boy simply couldn’t fulfill on his own; yet with Van’s guidance it became all the more possible. Ion spent his final years gathering all the pieces of the puzzle, but as always, the last piece was always the trickiest to find.
Fomicry was a study that constantly tested the limits of morality. However, morals meant nothing to this Fon Master, and so it became the forefront of his plan. The idea was to create a replica whose powers were similar enough to his own before proceeding to manipulate it into a gentle pacifist. This timid personality would not just quell the feuds within the Order, but also ensure that Van could move amongst the Order without distraction.
But this wasn’t a tale about the kind and loving replica that traveled alongside Luke fon Fabre and company during their whimsical adventure. Beyond the glitz and glamour of the seventh there were six others who’d been less fortunate with their lives.
Sync was destined to be a failure since the day he was born.
He’d often claim that his birth was unintentional, hatred oozing from every pore of his being at those who were foolishly responsible for his existence. But he wasn’t always filled with a deep loathing for everyone and everything. No, everyone deserved a clean slate, and he was given it, for a short time anyway.
The world had been a curious thing, filled with new sights and sounds he had never experienced before. Birth was almost like an ascent from death, breaking through the surface of water and desperately sucking in that first gasp of air.
Sync could vaguely remember the first few moments of his life, the thin air clinging to him like a blanket of ice and the cold, hard surface in which he’d been laying on.
The replication, in general, had been a success. There was no physical deformation of any kind on any ounce of his naked body, no hint of imperfection that would cause him to be rejected instantaneously. It almost fooled the Original for a time, but after further observation he discovered that there was one major flaw more disturbing than if this replica had been born a malformed face. It was almost disappointing if he hadn’t believed such a pitying emotion was undeserving for trash.
“Trash.”
Despite his perfect physical condition his powers were so weak they were nearly nonexistent.
Ion, absolutely repulsed, nearly killed the replica on the spot, but instead composed himself before ordering them to take him away. The child spent the remainder of the Original’s life locked up in an isolated spot within the Headquarters, huddling shamefully in one corner with little to no human contact except when they remembered to feed him. With no outlet to leech off of, the replica remained an empty void, a veil of apathy falling over him even when the doors to his prison were thrust open.
He was forcibly pulled out without reason and forced to trudge with five others that looked shockingly similar to the green-haired boy he’d first seen. However, there was something wrong with each and every one of them, from the way they walked to their drooling, babbling faces. The replica hadn’t known they were deformities at the time, never actually witnessing such a thing in his cell, but it was enough to disturb him. He remained as far from them as the chain that kept them together would let him, nearly bumping up against the child behind him on several occasions. As the terrain around them grew rougher the air around them grew hotter and hotter until it became a struggle just to breathe. Sweat poured down the replica’s face as they walked, exhaustion creeping up much faster for the ugly things that struggled to keep up with the Oracle Knights that forced them along. The child didn’t know how long they walked, but by the time they stopped the others were struggling to stay on their feet.
They were pushed towards the edge of the ledge, and one by one were released from their chains before being shoved off to their death. Their screams echoed against the rocky walls before falling into the pit of lava. The fifth watched with mild curiosity, yet it wasn’t until the boy before him perished did he feel something else well up inside him.
Fear.
He struggled with all his might, but they were just too strong. The child was practically ripped from his chains and thrown right over the edge, but he clawed madly at the wall as he fell and by some miracle grabbed onto a small ledge. Ignoring the searing pain from both his bloodied fingertips and the lava’s scorching vapors, he crawled to safety before being overwhelmed with exhaustion. With no strength to do anything else, the replica simply laid there until a pair of outstretched arms from behind him pulled him to his feet. Confused at first, he did his best to stay on his feet as he looked up at his savior and spoke.
“The… the Synchron level was regrettable.”
The man introduced himself as Van Grants in a time when names meant nothing to him, but having been offered one more chance to live gave him the strength to follow the man out of the volcano. Yet, in those rare fleeing moments of peace between missions, Sync often looked back at what had happened and wished he’d died there instead. Because at least back then he’d been completely ignorant of everything around him. It would’ve spared him those four years of heartache and anguish that would soon follow once he stepped back into Daath.
It was no thanks to Van that Sync learned that he was nothing more than a piece of trash, a slew of scraps and leftovers from the Original’s experiments. That in itself was enough to loathe his own existence, but he was constantly reminded of this cold, hard fact whenever he brushed shoulders against the seventh replica. He’d been told, in a very blunt manner, that he was of no use to anyone in the state he was in. And so the young boy spent countless days and nights strengthening his body, striving forward even after he reached his limits.
Even though his powers were next to nothing in comparison to the Original’s that didn’t mean they were completely extinguished. Van chose to draw a symbol over the fifth replica’s chest, enhancing his fonic abilities so he was able to scrounge up those specialized Daathic Fonic Artes. Many people would’ve seen that Sync had been one of the lucky ones, to have food and shelter and a kind of purpose for living. However, he knew the truth of why he was still alive in the first place: to be used and abused and tossed away when his purpose was served. This acceptance of his own inevitable demise was enough to propel him forward.
The next two years were gone in a flash, leaving Sync a completely different person from what he once was. His body became as toned as any master martial artist while his mind was cold and unforgiving. When Van was finally satisfied the boy was offered a position as one of the notorious God-Generals who all worked alongside each other for a common goal.
To him, the root of all his problems was Lorelei and the Score, forcing his unnatural birth in the first place. He was determined to destroy the source at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
-
He made his rounds in St. Binah after learning of what happened in the Tartarus and gave the order for the God-Generals to disperse as to not cause a diplomatic incident between the Order and Malkuth. Afterwards, he rounded up both Dist and Arietta after Van gave them their new mission and set up a temporary base in Choral Castle. His own orders were rather simple; supervise Dist as he recorded the fonon data from that redhead replica once Arietta captured him.
Of course, most things were easier said than done, especially when they had the redhead’s entourage to worry about. It wasn’t’ exactly the smoothest of missions when he accidentally let the fondisc fall prey to the blond haired swordsman named Guy. The teen became enraged, lunging at the man in a heated fury, but even now he could remember how the latter’s sword felt when it scraped against his face, sending his mask into the nearest wall and left him frozen for those few seconds. In a deranged kind of way, Sync was almost overwhelmed with joy when he managed to get the last laugh in Chesedonia. Having an inkling of the blond’s past because of Van, he used this to his advantage and planted a curse slot into Guy’s arm. Even if the mission had generally been a failure he knew that he could make him his puppet at any time.
A God-General’s job was never an easy thing when they were forced to hop across the different nations as they followed the emissary back to Baticul. Kidnapping and escorting the Fon Master to the Zao ruins was a painfully easy mission, but it only managed to remind Sync why he detested the seventh replica in the first place. That gentle face, a face that wasn’t marred by rejection, was enough to make his blood boil. Many a time he had to force himself to leave the room incase he tried to strangle the other boy.
Focusing instead on their mission, Sync, along with Largo and Asch, escorted the Fon Master to the Sephiroth inside the ruins, but were intercepted by that other replica and his friends before they could remove the seal. In the end both groups agreed to part ways, but the replica knew better than to let them escape just like that. Oh no, as a master of psychological warfare he decided to have a little fun by using the curse slot inscribed on Guy as a scare tactic. It didn’t work as well as how he planned it to be, but it was never really fun when his victims gave no resistance. With his part of the plan over for now, Sync didn’t have much else to do but return to Daath and wait for the good news.
And how grand it was. Akzeriuth’s collapse had been a success even if they lost the Fon Master in the process, but it wasn’t like the replica wanted him alive anyway. The temporary truce between Kimlasca and Malkuth disintegrated, leaving a full-scale war at its wake. With everything going according to plan, Sync took these small moments of peace to reflect and relax.
But like all good things it was bound to end eventually. He received reports soon after Akzeriuth’s destruction that the Fon Master was still alive and set out with Largo to retrieve him, albeit grudgingly. They crossed Malkuth territory and made their way into the Theor forest where they began a good old game of hack and slash with the Malkuth soldiers that guarded the area. That was enough to lead the group out into the open before proceeding to take them down with force. It was a damn shame that he didn’t get the chance to use the curse slot to its fullest potential, but there was no use in regretting it.
It took about a month for a new set of orders to come in from the Commandant, probably because the man only discovered what their enemy’s were doing in the last minute. While Legretta and the Oracle Knights made their way to Sheridan, Sync carefully snuck into the Tartarus where he hid until the landship set sail for the core. The replica didn’t need any sort of mental preparation, knowing full well that this was going to be his last mission whether he succeeded or not. An air of elation surrounded him as he made quick work with the fonic glyph drawn on top of the landship, fingertips tingling in anticipation as he waited for the group to surface from the Tartarus.
Sync’s ‘supposed’ final battle had been hard fought, and at times he could taste the essence of victory as he licked at the sweat around his lips. Yet try as he might this was a fight he couldn’t win alone, his strength slowly leaving him until he just couldn’t go any farther. The replica collapsed ungracefully onto the deck, his mask clattering onto the wooden floor beneath him. His identity had been revealed to his enemies, completely soiled in the light of the Fon Master that stood there in sorrow. He had no desire to follow that pathetic soul back out into the surface, violently slapping that hand away before falling to his death from the edge. The pain was almost unbearable, but Sync took it all with a light grin, because he knew he was finally free from his strings as he finally gave into the bliss of darkness.
Or so he thought.
Sync had to use every ounce of will power in his weakened body not to give Van a violent lashing when he awoke to find himself in the man’s arms. Instead he grudgingly accepted his fate and agreed to resurface to further execute the latter’s plans. He’d been given an order that was very different from what his usual missions were as a God-General. Sync was to pretend to be a Score reader, traveling across the nations and pretending to give readings to the people who haven’t quite accepted discarding the planet’s memory. In reality he was merely collecting the fonon data of each person for the creation of their replica. It was completely repulsive to watch the populace fawn over him, but he strode forward anyway. It was at that time he learned of the Fon Master’s death, taking every chance he got to smear it back into his enemie’s face when they crossed paths in Chesedonia.
His final mission before Eldrant was to supervise Van’s return at the Absorption Gate along with the remaining God-Generals, but that was quickly interrupted by Asch, and soon by his replica and company. But by then they were already too late, and even when they came across a minor setback they were able to escape before more harm could be done.
One by one his fellow comrades had died, and it hadn’t been long until he was given report of Legretta’s demise. But he simply couldn’t bring it in himself to mourn for those who he’d lost. They were the closest thing to family that he’d been given in this pathetic life, and so crying over their grave would only bring utter disrespect.
Ever since the Mt. Zaleho volcano Sync never felt fear for his life, not even when death was staring him right back in the face. He already knew what it felt like to die, and it was a tranquil feeling at its worst. So when the final blow was exchanged and his body collapsed to the floor, his only request was that Van would finally destroy that cursed Lorelei for their sake.
It was a shame that everything he fought for had been in vain.
Please give us a detailed description of your character's personality:
The God-Generals were infamous for their unbidden loyalty to the Commandant and the merciless demeanor that followed them as they went about their tasks. Sync was no stranger to these traits, and despite his age he acted very much like the strategist of the entire group, issuing orders to the other members in a surprisingly mature manner. However, he wasn’t called ‘Sync the Tempest’ just because of that.
Born as one of the several failed replicas of the Original Ion, Sync carries an appalling amount of baggage with him that no child really deserves. He spent his entire life satisfying that craving of unfaltering hatred he felt for his Original, and has ironically formed a type of personality that’s more in tune with the very boy he hates in comparison to the gentle, pacifistic leader that took the Fon Master’s place. Because he’d been neglected prior to being manipulated, Sync never really understood the sense of joy and elation besides his random urges for sadism for seeing other people suffer.
It’s easy to point out that the fifth replica is suffering from an inferiority complex that rivals Luke’s own thoughts of self-worthlessness. The amount of loathing he reserves for himself is staggering in comparison, and a lot of it can be traced back to the very man he takes orders from. But Sync had long since accepted his fate with clenched fists, fully aware that he’s only alive because Van found some use for him.
He does his job surprisingly well given the inevitable, working hard like any other soldier and completing his missions without much effort. But when the day is done and his shift is over there really isn’t much of a difference between how he treats the rest of the Order and his enemies. Sync has the tendency to be unbelievably sarcastic and condescending, acting above and beyond what’s considered rude in the world today. The only people whom are somewhat spared of this are the other God-Generals, but there are times when he can be whiny even to them. This is really the only means he has of outwardly expressing himself given his background, but it’s hard to take pity on someone that feels no remorse in making others around him as miserable as he.
But sometimes acting extrovertly isn’t enough, and more often than not Sync finds himself huddled off to one corner in silence. Despite the anger and hatred, there is a sense of emptiness that overcomes him that acts as the main driving force of his desires. It’s this kind of apathetic demeanor that he often expresses when he’s given charge of interrogating his enemies, not above using mortifying tactics such as psychological warfare to get what he wants. This in itself was a rare occurrence, but it inspires s even more fear than his usual arrogant attitude.
All in all, Sync is the epitome of hate condensed into a young, misguided boy. He’s simply a sadist at heart, and it’s hard to break that kind of habit when it worms its way in too deep.
Please give us a detailed physical description of your character:
It’s no surprise that Sync is identical to Ion in more ways than one, but that doesn’t mean it’s a trait he’s exactly proud of. Looking like the one person you hated the most has the tendency to drive even the sanest people over the edge.
Unlike the other replicas, Sync focuses more on his own physical attributes than his fonic abilities. He stands between 5’2 and 5’3 but actually weighs more than the seventh replica because of his muscle toned body. His skin it slightly because of the sun, but it’s hard to deny his slim feminine physique and heart-shaped face from underneath his mask.
Sync shares the same shade of dark green hair, but it’s styled in an entirely different manner from the other Ions. He took the liberty of hacking off the two long tendrils that fell on either side of his face, spiking the remaining strands forward. With all of that said and done it’s his green eyes that define him as an Ion replica, which is why they’re hidden beneath a gold, beak shaped mask for a majority of the game.
What point in time are you taking your character from when he/she appears at Landel's?:
After much debate I’ve decided to pull Sync from after his death in Eldrant. Taking him from the time he first ‘dies’ in the Planet’s core was really tempting, but it seemed far too early for my tastes, especially compared to the other ToA characters that are running amuck in Damned.
What kinds of magical/special/crazy powers does your character have, if any?:
Even though Sync is considered a reject in the Fon Master’s standards, the essence of the Original still flows inside of him, granting him most of the power of his predecessor, weak they may be. A Fon Master has a designated set of artes called Daathic Fonic Artes that are only capable of existing out of their own hands.
Probably the one most often used by both Sync and Ion is an arte that includes an inscription of a fonic glyph surrounding them, followed by a rush of fonons that blasts anyone away within that circle. However, the fifth replica goes even farther than the usual light show. He isn’t above the use of the ‘curse slot’ which is basically a fonic glyph inscribed on the victim that tangles itself with their memories before forcing them to give into their most secret and violent desires.
Besides specializing in Daathic Fonic Artes, Sync has managed to learn an extensive amount of other artes that pertain to his own style of fighting. He has the tendency to use more earthbound artes, using gales of wind to propel himself at his foes and earth shattering attacks that forces the ground into violent convulsions.
If present, how do you plan to tweak those powers to make him/her appropriately hindered in the setting of Landel's?:
Removing the symbol on his chest is probably the easiest and most efficient way of hindering his fonic abilities. The thing itself acts as a kind of enhancer, enabling Sync to have a better grasp of gathering fonons for his attacks. If that were stripped from him altogether, then his powers would become as weak as they were from when he was first born. And by ‘weak’ I mean nonexistent.
Does your character have any other non-magical skills or abilities that we should know about?:
Unlike the seventh replica’s fragile demeanor, Sync’s own body was built for speed and endurance. It’s the only thing that he can be truly proud of considering whom he’d been replicated from, and so enjoys keeping it in peak condition after every mission. Even without the help of his fonic abilities, Sync is a skilled martial artist that is more than capable of handling himself in a fight.
And even though he’s nowhere near as intelligent as Dist or Jade, Sync knows how to gather his information, especially when given the task of barking out orders to the Oracle Knights below him.
How about improbable appendages?:
He likes to keep his emo on a short leash.