jumpscare: MARTIN (Default)
dead weight mods ([personal profile] jumpscare) wrote2028-06-04 03:57 am

APPLICATIONS.

APPLICATIONS ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED.

Applications open on July 24 at 12:01AM EST. Please post your applications on this page!

You may app up to two characters per round. The total amount of characters you may have at this time is four. You may have two characters from the same canon, however these characters can not have met or will have no reason to do so in the future. We will decide this on a case-by-case basis.

Reserves are not a requirement. However, a reserve is an excellent way to state your intentions and to give us a heads up to research your canon and character so that we can process it faster.

If you are asked for revisions, then you have seventy-two hours to reply to the comment with what we have asked.

If you would like details on a rejection then you may PM the mod account or reply to the comment and we will be as detailed as possible.

_________applications.

ooc info;
Name: (Your online handle.)
Age: (Your age. Unfortunately, players below the age of 16 are not allowed.)
Ways to contact: (Email, AIM, Plurk, etc.)
Characters currently played: (List of characters currently played in the game. Character limit is currently 4.)

character info;
Character Name: (Your character's full name, in Western order. The characters may call themselves whatever they wish ICly, but for organization's sake we need this.)
Canon: (Name of your character's canon.)
Canon Link: (Link to your character's history/canon, i.e. wikipedia articles/informative fansites/etc.. If it's a particularly obscure canon with very little information available, you may write your own section to give us an overview of your character's history and world background.)
Canon Point: (The point from which your character is pulled i.e. chapter 500, just before the final battle, after confessing their eternal love, etc.)

Character Age: (Your character's age, or approximation thereof. Characters of all ages are allowed, though we request that if a character is under the age of 10, you fill out an additional section detailing their suitability for living in a post-apocalyptic world.)
Character Suitability: (For characters under the age of 10 only. We need to know why the Caretakers would think such a young child would be strong enough to survive a zombie-infested earth and help to rebuild the world.)

Personality: (The meat of the app. Tell to us your character's motivations, their likes and dislikes, strengths, weaknesses, relationships, and anything else you think is important in letting us know what makes them tick. A bunch of words doesn't always mean a good application, and we won't ask for an college essay, but we do require that this section be at least 350 words long, to show us you know what you're talking about and can elaborate appropriately.)

Powers & Abilities: (Briefly describe any supernatural powers or abilities your characters may have i.e. healing spells, super strength, teleportation. Their powers will, of course, be severely dampened upon arriving, but perhaps, if seen as worthy, they can wake up to find it more potent than before.)

Items on their Person: (List any items you character would have had with them upon being taken. Your character has to be holding or touching these items somehow for them to be brought with them. For example, items in the pockets of clothing or in a backpack will be brought along with you. Summoned weapons will also be brought, but they cannot be put back.)

samples;
ALL SAMPLES MUST BE SET IN THE GAME'S UNIVERSE.
First Person Sample: (This is to showcase your character's dialogue, so while you may use [bracket action] when needed, this should be at least 5 spoken sentences. Remember, a sentence has to have a subject and a verb. Monosyllabic sounds do not count toward the minimum. If you're having difficulty thinking up a sample, you may request a Q&A for this portion instead, where we will give you 5 questions to be answered ICly.)

Third Person Sample: (This is a prose portion, meant to showcase your character's thoughts and actions, as well as your own writing ability. Samples must be at least 300 words. Remember to use proper spelling, grammar, and paragraphs.)

Additional Information: (Questions, comments, and additional miscellaneous facts about your character may be added here!)




enrage: (29)

Guts | Berserk | Reserved

[personal profile] enrage 2012-06-25 07:20 am (UTC)(link)
OOC Info;
Name: Ophy
Age: 28
Ways to contact: Plurk @ odawg
Characters currently played: None

Character Info;
Character Name: Guts
Canon: Berserk
Canon Link: http://berserk.wikia.com/wiki/Guts
Canon Point: Chapter 327
Character Age: Unspecified, mid-twenties
Character Suitability: n/a
Personality: Guts is the Struggler. He's a man who's faced incredible misfortune and a dark life that would break most people, but instead of succumbing to despair, he's fought on and screamed defiance like a wild beast. Near to every day of his life, and absolutely every day for the last several years, has been spent in non-stop combat and with him surrounded by misery and inflicting it on anyone around him if they are foolish enough to stick around for very long. No matter what, however, he refuses to break.

His personality has shifted as time has gone on, from the troubled youth afraid of other people, to the devoted friend and loyal companion, to a rage-fueled whirlwind of vengeance, and finally to the weary and reserved person he is at this point. Excepting the aptly-named Golden Age, when he was with the Band of the Hawk for a few brief years and, though still inundated in violence, happy with a small family of friends, nothing has ever gone right for him. Betrayal, revenge, and more collatoral damage than he's proud to admit are everything about his life.

Living by the sword is the only life Guts knows. From an early age, he was trained to be a fighter, and fight he has, ever since he was still a child. Death and gruesome injury no longer faze him, they're simply a part of who he is. It's only when he's in the thick of combat, facing opponents that can challenge him and being forced to rely on his wits to survive, that he truly feels alive. Stepping down from a battle he has even the slightest chance of winning is unacceptable, he will always struggle on and persevere, to find that one little opening he has to exploit to emerge victorious. Luck is frequently on his side, as well a sharp tactical mind, and Guts has no qualms with taking enormous risks or using outlandish plans to seek victory, much to the amazement and, frequently, ire of his companions.

When it comes to other people, Guts can usually seem distant and callous, at best. Being molested as a child provided him with a strong disdain for being touched by other human beings, one that has slowly eroded but left him still guarded and reserved. Blunt and harsh, he has no qualms with telling people the truth of the world as he sees it, with little to no concern for what they want to hear or what the effects of his words or actions will do. It isn't that he doesn't realize his actions have their effects, he simply doesn't care. The later ultimate betrayal of Griffith, the man he'd idolized and considered his dearest friend, has left him very reluctant to allow anyone at all to get inside his shell. He longs for the good times he'd had, but especially after Griffith's choice and the loss of Casca, the woman he loved, to insanity, reluctant is the best someone can get.

It's not all born from intimacy issues, however. Guts is a literal magnet for demons and evil spirits, thanks to the brand on his neck that marks him as a chosen sacrifice. It's a permanent reminder that Griffith must pay for betraying them all and casting them aside like tools to further his own ambitions, and every day, nearly without fail, he is plunged into battle with otherworldly creatures that seek his blood. After years of this, he's realized that having people around him will nearly always result in their deaths, either by the hands of demons, or by his own sword after they've been turned into something less than human. It's for their own sake that Guts kept everyone at bay, though he's begun to slowly loosen this rule as time has gone on and his companions are capable of keeping the demons at bay.

Underneath the impenentrable outside, there are two layers. The first is weariness, longing, and regret. Despite being in his early twenties, Guts is so battle-scarred and stressed that he looks far older. He blames himself nearly as much as he does Griffith for what his life has become, for the deaths of the Hawks and Casca's mind being brutalized to a childlike state. Endless struggle against so many enemies, against such bad odds so very long, has left him perpetually tired and resigned, and as time has gone on, he's shifted his priorities partially from avenging the Hawks to restoring Casca's mind, just so he has something to actually aspire to.

Propping him up, underneath all that weariness, is rage. He suppresses it as much as he can, but at Guts' core is hatred for the world, its people, and most of all, fate. His lust for blood was bad enough before he was given the Berserker Armor: now, his desire for death and destruction is a hellhound constantly gnawing at his subconscious. He doesn't just want to kill every demon, every god, and everything else that has ever wronged him, he wants them to suffer as he hacks their bodies to pieces. Under no circumstances will he allow himself to be caged and tamed, always struggling against anything that would hold him back, and steadfastly refusing to believe he is not free to control his own destiny. When he gives in and lets the rage consume him, he becomes more beast than man, capable of horrendous actions that would horrify even him if he was capable of rational thought.

Powers & Abilities: The brand on the back of Guts' neck is a supernatural affliction that aches and bleeds in the presence of supernatural creatures. Purely corporeal, natural creatures (like zombies infected with a disease and not raised through black magic) won't trigger it at all. In its nerfed state, only the most overwhelmingly-powerful creatures will make it bleed and give him warning, if such things ever exist.

He also possesses the Berserker Armor that practically counts as a power; see below.

Items on their Person: Guts will be bringing with him the following:

Prosthetic left forearm, crafted out of steel. A magnet in the palm allows him to hold onto his sword with it. The hand can be flipped down to reveal a cannon built into the arm with one shot per reload. If he had any reloads with him, they were lost at his canonpoint.

Throwing knives, well-crafted but otherwise mundane.

The Dragonslayer, an immense sword, taller than the already-tall Guts, that has been used to kill so many otherworldly creatures and been bathed in their essences that it partially exists in the astral plane, making it capable of harming even things that shrug off mortal attacks. Unless some kind of magical/demonic enemies appear, however, it's just a massive sword.

The Berserker Armor, a suit of cursed armor that can turn a person into a killing machine. It has the effect of turning off the user's ability to feel pain and neutralizing the subconscious desire to limit one's strength in self-preservation. The result is an immense increase in strength and endurance at the price of heinous damage to the body. The armor will do everything it can to keep the user alive, binding wounds, realigning joints, and setting broken bones with spikes that dig into the body. The armor can cause temporary insanity, plunging the user into a berserker rage and leaving them with the desire to just kill anything they can find to kill, be it friend or enemy; this effect can be suppressed with the help of a psychically-linked second person helping to keep the user's thoughts clear. Prolonged use of the armor has debilitating and permanent effects on the body: in Guts' case, a stripe of his hair has turned white, and his senses have begun to dull. Since this armor is practically a power in itself, it will grant less of a power boost, be less effective at keeping the user alive, and slip into the berserker state more quickly.

Samples;
First Person Sample:

Listen up.

One of them managed to bite through my armor last time I went out there. I don't know if I was infected or not, but I'm not going to take any chances. I'm going to go out there and kill as many as I can before I turn or they bring me down, whatever happens first. I'll be back in a couple days anyway. I'm leaving my armor here, I don't want you guys to find out what happens if a zombie shows up wearing that. Anyone sees me coming back toward the camp, kill me on sight. That isn't a request: I don't want any of you thinking you've got a cure, or you're going to save me, whatever, it isn't going to work. Hopefully, I'll be far enough away by the time I'm brought down I won't find my way back, but I don't want any idiots thinking they're a hero.

That's it. Save the tears for when I wake up back in here and can appreciate them, alright? I know you all care so much, it'd be a shame if I missed all the praise. Later.

Third Person Sample:

It was a pity that of all the things that threatened to kill the motley band of the living, hunger was one of the worst. Food was scarce in town, and people with the ability to hunt for game were in short supply. Guts was one such person, someone with the experience, will, and stomach to actually step outside the safety zone and go hunting. The rabbits in the park had served the group well, but they were getting more scarce as time had gone on. The rats were diseased, filthy, and people seemed reluctant to eat dog, and while Guts had no trouble with it, himself, he was reluctantly starting to dislike seeing people slowly starving around him.

That meant it was hunting time, for something a little more substantial, disease-free, and not domesticated. The herd of deer that had been spotted outside the town's walls, that was perfect. Some of the more squeamish still blanched at the idea of eating venison, but they'd shut up and eat when they smelled it roasting after a week of living on a can of vegetables a day. Guts had scouted the herd for over an hour, sitting on top of the wall and watching, until he was satisfied with the situation. The Dragonslayer had been left behind today, he needed mobility, and the weight of it and a hundred pound animal might have even weighed him down too much to be safe out there where worse things than vermin were waiting.

He climbed down from the wall once the herd came to a stop, stealthy and quiet. His breathing was kept slow and even, his eye trained on the biggest buck of the herd, as he slowly crept toward them. All distraction was out of his mind, there was nothing but the target and the sounds of the barren wilderness. One step at a time, he kept on moving, surprisingly stealthy for a man of his size. Just a little closer, and he could loose the knife held tight in his hand right into the animal's jugular. In a way, the buck was lucky: it was going to die a quick, painless death. The same couldn't be said for all the 'visitors' pulled into this world.

A howl tore through the air, just as Guts came within range. The deer spooked, of course, all of them raising their heads as one shortly before they bolted. "Shit." That single utterance, of annoyance and resignation, was Guts' way of telling the world he knew what was going on. Their friends, the wolves, had found the biggest source of meat around. There they were, just a second later, a pack of four or five rushing toward the herd. They slammed right into it, at the same time Guts came running. Screw subtlety and stealth, this whole excursion was botched if he didn't get in there and take his share. He twisted the knife and passed it to his mechanical hand, felt the magnet take hold, and drew another from the bandolier on his chest as he plowed into the melee.

It was strange how calm he was as he entered combat. There wasn't any hatred or malice, here: these were just animals, doing what animals did to survive, and that's what he was, too. He was the hound of hell here to get his due of the food to go around, and both the deer and the wolves were here just as naturally as he. A wolf clamped its jaws around the throat of that buck Guts had been after, bringing it down and snapping its neck, but before it could enjoy its prize, Guts sliced into it with both hands. Two animals, struggling to survive, were brought down in an instant: it was gruesome and cruel, but it was fair. The blood spray got the attention of the rest of the pack, and the distraction was enough for the herd to flee.

"Well." Guts stared down the wolves as they started to prowl toward him, growling and snarling. They could have run off, of course, let the superior predator have his kill and chase after the fleeing meat, but that just wasn't in their nature. "Come on, boys."

--

The last wolf ran, and Guts let it go. It had taken a nasty cut to the hind leg, but compared to its packmates, it got off easy. Four wolf corpses surrounded him now: a waste of good meat, he wouldn't be able to carry it all back, and scavengers would be all over it by the time he could return. Guts hadn't come out unscathed, either, there were bites on his arms, scratches on his legs, and one of the bastards had even raked across his back. This was going to take a night with the healers... damn, he missed the elf. Aching all over, he crouched down to start binding the deer carcass. It had fallen only minutes ago, still warm, and it wouldn't have time to get cold before it was over a fire. The ache of his injuries burned at him, but Guts ignored it as he pulled the dead, blood-soaked animal up over his shoulders and started to walk back toward the wall. He was going to be sore in the morning, but not having to listen to people groaning about going hungry tonight... that was worth it.

Additional Information: n/a
Edited 2012-06-25 11:37 (UTC)
enrage: (13)

[personal profile] enrage 2012-06-27 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
Nerf it down to the ground, that's all fine with me.