Futuristic LMG: Character Sheet Thread

[Ternunda Hunter]

Hello!

Please post your intended character sheets here for review. Once you have received an 'ok' post, you're free to run rampant in our group RP thread for the Last Mortal Generation!

Here is the abstract for our thread if you need a refresher:

Spoiler: Last Mortal Generation Abstract

Abstract: The year is 2056. Over the last 38 years society as we know it has been largely unchanged. Smart products and information networking has improved the lives of most of the population piecemeal while the urban infrastructure becomes increasingly outdated - the ever-increasing rate of technological development ensuring only that civil spending will never keep up with what is available. In contrast, the gap between the rich and the poor has only become more pronounced.

Against this background, a breakthrough in pharmaceuticals leads to the greatest upheaval in recorded history: a cure for death. With the process of physical aging halted or even reversed, the super-rich are set to become clinically immortal. Following this announcement the owner of the pharmaceutical company and first publicly announced recipient of the eternity vaccine is killed by an armed mob. While the wealthy elite across the world queue up with billion dollar cheques to receive the eternity vaccine, the disgruntled masses risking being left behind as endless life is auctioned off place pressure upon their governments to legislate against the manufacture and distribution of the vaccine. Yet others resort to more desperate means still - either to destroy the vaccine or claim it for themselves. This is where our story begins.

Use this for reference if you'd like (This sheet is a placeholder until we make one we don't hate):

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[CENTER][size=15]LMG Character Sheet[/size][/CENTER]
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[b]Character Name:[/b] [color=#??????]NAME HERE[/color]
[b]Character Text Color Code:[/b] Hex Code HERE (ie. #006796 Change the above hexcode to reflect what you choose for your character!)

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[td]Appearance[/td]
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[b]Age:[/b] AGE HERE
APPEARANCE TEXT HERE

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[td]Flaws/Insecurities[/td]
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Flaws/Insecurities text HERE

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[td]Strengths/Resliences[/td]
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Strengths/Resiliences text HERE

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[td]Short Bio / History[/td]
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TEXT HERE. This can be anything from a scene that you decide to write for your character that showcases them or an actual description of some of what they have gone through. This is your opportunity to develop your character and show off your talent. This can be as long or as short as you feel is necessary... But, it should require some brain power.

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

LMG Character Sheet​

Character Name: Penelope "Pen" Lance
Character Text Color Code: #2DA1B1

Appearance

Age: 21
With a full head of thick, unmanageable, chocolate, wavy hair and bright blue and green eyes, Pen struggles to walk around unnoticed for her pretty face and pale skin to match the aforementioned features. Though, the girl almost constantly wears a look of consternation with a furrowed brow and severe slant to her eyes. What did happen before her to etch such a look on her face was unknown to most but certainly on her record forever. If not for the incident itself then the aftermath of it in the form of her behavior the following years. She typically wears muted colors and leaves her mane untampered with. Her outfit of choice is a hoodie that is a size too large, jeans, and a vintage pair of converse that cover the ankle and have glittery black laces.

Flaws/Insecurities

Pen is afraid of being alone, despite always being that way. With little to no family to speak of she has been running around the streets for years completely unmanaged. Still, the realization that she truly has no one that wonders about her or stops her from some of the most stupid of activities would undoubtedly crush her. She acts for the sake of attention and law enforcement have been the largest provider of that much needed focus on her behavior. She is, at her core, a good person. With a soft heart she is prone to investing in people who give her the time of day and, more often than not, those people are who she sees the most. Street rats, criminals, and other forlorn kids and young adults. If she’s asked she’d say she has a job and a place to live, but in truth the extent of her employment is the odd job the gas station on the corner of 5th and Pike throws at her and the halfway house (a home for people who served their sentence in prison and are working to adjust to normal life again) she spends too much time at.

Strengths/Resliences

Pen is a resilient, flexible person. She is capable of taking most situations and make the best of them. Whether that means she has to become a criminal or take the better side of morality depends solely on what she needs or what will get her out of it. Her moral compass does point closer to ‘good’ than to ‘bad,’ but she is no stranger to foregoing her values for the sake of survival. In addition to that, her typically scrunched up face does well to mask her emotions. A skilled reader might better interpret her suffering behind squinted eyes, but the usual person would struggle to see anything but permanently folded frustration/concentration/consideration on her face.

Short Bio / History

Spoiler: Pen Opener/History Post

Pen, slouched over a decomposing chair in the 76th precinct of New Pennsylvania, wearing her favorite grey hoodie, dark blue jeans, and converse, waited rather impatiently for Officer Merik to give her the official ‘OK’ to leave. She wasn’t cuffed and only had been until they’d gotten to the office. As he clicked away at his keyboard she chewed on her lower lip, running her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt at detangling it, a mess from the day’s activities. She’d worked with Merik before but was usually seen by Lt. Thomas. He was used to her antics and, thankfully, more understanding. He gave her breaks where she probably shouldn’t have had them but he, unlike the other detectives and officers, knew about her situation.

Either way, what stuck her in that chair that day was something she argued was totally out of her control. Of course, it wasn’t, but she had no reason to act like it was. There’d been a rally that was kept mostly under wraps in protest to the newest line of life enhancers that were only available to the very rich, the 1%. Pen didn’t want to live forever, nor did she really care that the drug would never be available to her. What she cared about, though, was all the excitement surrounding it. A mob mauling and killing the first recipient? Now, that was news. That was something. She wanted to be involved mostly because it was just something to do… And she knew a lot of people who were all kinds of mad about the availability of this gift of immortality.

So, the rally had been held in spring park under the gazebo. Not the most private place… but it was large enough to hold the people interested. Someone told the police ahead of time, though, because only 20 minutes after the party had gotten started there were police surrounding them in plain clothes screaming for them to go home or be arrested. Of course, that also lead to some of the more violent criminals in the bunch to start swinging… which lead to a huge fight and a bunch of police getting involved and making arrests. Scrappy as she was, Pen was not interested in suffering the aftermath of a violent outbreak. She ducked and dodged flying fists and feet as she climbed on her hands and knees out of the crowd… Only to spy the boots of officer Merik tapping in front of her and ready to haul her off to the precinct. She’d given him a big cheesy grin before he grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and cuffed her as she watched the rest of the crowd slowly disperse.

He did take the time to sit her in an interrogation room, wrists free and a couple cereal bars on the edge of the steel table… But, she promised him she didn’t actually have anything he wanted. She didn’t know who put it together, she didn’t know who really attended. She’d arrived 10 minutes late only to have it broken up 10 minutes later. Just as it was getting good, too! People were getting worked up, screaming in agreement as whoever the bald guy up at the podium preached about equal opportunity and how unfair the 1% had always been. How the working class never got the access to life saving treatment they needed and how they were doing it again, breeding a new class of citizen which would lord their power and eternal life over the rest of the world. She’d really been getting into it, too. She’d been getting excited about it. But, sure enough.. The party ended too soon.

 

[HydroXIV]

LMG Character Sheet​

Character Name: Detective Sergeant Alex Fletcher

Character Text Color Code: #669900

Appearance

Age: 49

If a single word were used to describe Fletcher that word would be ‘worn.’ His short black hair is beginning to thin and is streaked with grey, he has wrinkles around his eyes and his body is starting to look less lean than it once did. He still dresses smartly with a long brown coat though it has begun being supplemented with a scarf and gloves in winter.

Flaws/Insecurities

Fletcher has seen a lot in his career and has little patience for people who falter in the face of what he feels to be minor concerns. In his earlier years and first few cases he invested himself fully in the plight of the victims of crimes he investigated and the result is that now in the latter years of his career he finds himself emotionally exhausted and lacking in empathy. That said, being a father himself, crimes where the victims are children can cause him to become deeply irate and irrational. As a young adult he watched his elder brother become impoverished and be forced to declare bankruptcy after a health insurer refused to cover a critical illness, forcing him to live with Fletcher for a few years. Consequently any signs of financial exploitation of anyone by big pharma tends to strike close to home.

Strengths/Resliences

Fletcher is of the good cop archetype, though more out of the desire to build a safe and just world for his daughter rather than for the greater good. Also stemming from his desire to be a good role model is a solid work ethic and prudent financial planning.

Short Bio / History

Spoiler: Fletcher sample post

Fletcher knew how the effect was created. The ceiling light had a slight slant to it so that the glare was in his eyes as he sat at the table. The walls tapered ever so slightly, not enough to be obvious unless the observer knew what to look for, but enough to make the person seated opposite seem slightly bigger, more imposing than they otherwise were. The chair was tilted a little to make it more uncomfortable to sit on. A dozen or so tiny little details that made a man want to be out of the room as quickly as possible; to give up whatever information he had so that he could leave. Usually though he was in the other chair. Usually he had the light at his back and his opposite was squirming. The reversal of position was galling and - an admission made solely because an awareness of one’s own weaknesses was an essential part of covering them - a little disorienting. When a superior officer said “We’ll use the interview room” for a debrief it could never be a good sign.


The unanswered question hung in the air between them.


Fletcher, a grizzled and tired looking man whose receding hair was streaked with grey and whose weathered face was beginning to show its first permanent creases, sat slumped in his chair, arms folded, wearing a heavy trench coat and a scowl. His opposite was a woman of similar age, bespectacled and dressed in the immaculate uniform of a commissioner's rank who showed no sign of impatience beyond the occasional twitch of her finger against the pen that she held. It was of little surprise, then, whose discipline faltered first, though Fletcher would later blame it all on the scene he’d just got back from fraying his nerves.


“All right. You want to know what happens when you’re in that situation? Well let me tell you that no matter how much you’ve trained for it, no matter how many official cautions and memos you send around, everyone out there thinks it’ll never happen in their district or on their shift.

“When you hear that noise you think you heard a door slam. Or perhaps someone dropped their shopping. Or maybe a car hit a wall. No matter how ready you think you are, you don’t assume ‘gunshot.’”


The pen clicked twice against the edge of the commissioner's clipboard in a way seemed to drain the thunder from the detective’s diatribe. Fletcher knew at once that that was why she’d chosen to use paper and pen rather than a clipboard - no matter how hard one tried it was impossible to type ominously. “By your service record this isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in an incident concerning gun crime, Detective Fletcher.” the commissioner observed.


Fletcher’s’ brow furrowed, the insinuation not lost on him and not about to go unchallenged either. “I’ve been the first to respond to incidents involving armed suspects before, yes.” he answered flatly. The tense silence which followed lasted a few seconds, both belligerents wondering just how far they could push the other.


This time it was the commissioner who spoke first. “At what point did you call it in?” she asked bluntly.

“As soon as I judged that it wouldn’t place the public in greater danger.” Fletcher responded without hesitation, it was a wrote answer and it was by the book, but if the commissioner wanted to challenge it she’d have to call his judgement into question, and there were processes for that. It wasn’t the kind of remark she could take back easily once made.

“And this took fifteen minutes?”

Fletcher hesitated at the unexpectedly bold assertion, then for the first time abandoned his slouched backwards posture to lean in. “Sorry, where’s this number coming from?” he queried.


“Eleven thirty-seven,” the commissioner tapped her watch, “that’s when the panic button in the jewellery shop two reservations down from the pharmacy alerted dispatch.”

Fletcher shook his head resolutely, “I was stopped by a man who wanted directions to the motel at eleven forty-one,” he stated, “that was before the gunshot by a while. Do we have a statement from the jewellers?”

“We don’t, but do you mean to say that there were armed robbers in the mall for a full quarter hour before you responded, Detective Fletcher?”


“Actually we do have a statement.”


The woman who entered the interview room was as almost as much unlike the commissioner as possible. Where her immediate superior was overweight and waspish the chief was athletic and smiled readily. At this moment though her scowl could’ve put a wild bull to flight. Brisk strides brought her across the room to the table where she dropped a report in front of the commissioner. Alex couldn’t read it upside down but he could tell it was handwritten; the chief must’ve rushed it here as soon as the constables returned from the mall before it was typed up. While he was grateful for that, it made him hesitant about what direction she assumed this debriefing was taking.


The commissioner’s irritated pause before she reached for her reading glasses went noticed but uncommented as the chief pulled up a third chair next to Fletcher. A long silence followed as she read the document, the chief following each slight shift in the commissioner’s demeanour with a hawk-like gaze, breaking only to shoot Fletcher a cautionary glance as their opposite’s pen clicked on the steel tabletop.

“So the gunmen revealed their weapons to the shopkeeper but didn’t discharge them.” the commissioner acknowledged at last.

“Didn’t have to.” the chief shot back, “the staff gave up the goods. Dispatch linked the panic button to a reported fire two blocks away - it was a chip pan fire but we wouldn’t know that until after Alex had already called it in at the mall. Dispatcher’s oversight, not the detective’s.”

“Indeed.” the commissioner sounded nonplussed.


“But this fills in the picture for us.” Fletcher asserted quickly, “if the gunmen had been radicals striking at distribution outlets for the vaccine why rob a jewellery store? It was motivated by money, not politics.”

“How does that follow?” the commissioner returned icily, “The clinic didn’t stock the vaccine.”

“But they took deposits paid up front for the appointments,” Fletcher pushed, “Who’s to say how much cash they could’ve had on site at the time of the attack?” Alex only stopped when he realised that the chief hadn’t chipped in at all, clearly hoping that the conversation topic would burn itself out in short order. That gave him cause for pause more than the commissioner setting her elbows broadly on the table and visibly making herself as imposing as possible.


“We have suspects in custody.” She said with a note of finality, “It is for the district attorney's to profile their motives. Kindly keep your musings to yourself, Detective Fletcher.” It wasn’t until the commissioner moved to add the witness statement to her own clipboard that Fletcher made the connection.

“Something about the facts doesn’t fit your story?” he inquired, chin raised defiantly.

“Fletcher.” The warning note in the chief’s voice was message enough, and while the thought of leaving his badge on the table did cross Alex’ mind, it was followed almost at once by the image of his wife Vivienne, and little Louise, and he thought better of it. He needed the money, and there was no shortage of people willing to keep their mouth shut for the same.


For her part, the commissioner answered only with a stern glare as she gathered up her things, along with the only copy of the jewellers’ witness statement and left the room.

“You could at least try not to get under my boss’ skin, Fletcher.”

It was with good cause that the chief’s voice had a tired quality to it; this wasn’t the first time that the pair had had such a conversation.

“I call it how I see it, Denise,” Alex shrugged, “and what I see is someone whose morals are for sale.”

The chief sighed, “Damn it Alex, you’re a good detective but you are making it bloody difficult for me to protect your job right now.” an irritated hand reached up to brush away a few strands of red hair from her face where they had escaped the tight braid that hung over her shoulder. “This is bigger than her though; we’re all under a lot of pressure from higher up to spin things a certain way. I’m not sure where exactly that pressure is coming from but it’s worth more than my job and probably more than hers too. Pick your battles Fletcher, keep your head down and help the people that you can.


“Now I’ve got something else for you. Some politically conscious students are holding a rally at the concert hall. We’ve done our research and there’s no known criminal history so this shouldn’t turn violent but we want boots on the ground just in case. Are you in?”

 

[Quix]

LMG Character Sheet​

Character Name: Tyler Lightfoot

Character Text Color Code:#9932CC

Appearance

Age: 23

Short blonde wispy hair and a pale complexion, with blue eyes. Thin and tall, standing at about 6"3.
As a fairly poor student, Tyler wears a variety of checkered shirts over worn jeans, worn from prolonged usage and not due to some 00's trend. Has a favourite silver trenchcoat which he wears everywhere, even in the summer.

Flaws/Insecurities

Honest to a fault, and lacks conviction to his own opinion, usually acquiescing to whatever other people would rather do. For this reason, he dislikes being alone, but hates being surrounded by people he doesn't know.
Feels inadequate, even in academia.

Strengths/Resliences

Tyler plays the loyal friend card very well, and can always be relied upon for his participation if not anything else.
Tyler is kind and courteous to everyone to a fault, reserving judgement on people based on their actions as opposed to their views. Tyler never forgets.

Short Bio / History

###

LMG Character Sheet​

Character Name: Taylor Lightfoot

Character Text Color Code:#CFB53B

Appearance

Age: 23

Long blonde flowing hair and a pale complexion, with blue eyes. Thin and short, standing at about 5"3.
In her day job of running the family farm, Taylor wears a variety of checkered shirts over worn jeans, worn from prolonged usage and not due to some 00's trend. Never wears any sort of overcoat, even in the winter.

Flaws/Insecurities

Honest to a fault, but believes in her own ability far more than she should, usually dictating what others should do. For this reason, she enjoys her own company, but hates being surrounded by people who know her enough not to pay her any attention.
Overconfident and headstrong.

Strengths/Resliences

Taylor is a born leader - bostrious nature aside - she has her head screwed on, and usually pays more attention than she lets on to her surroundings. She judges everyone she meets, but has respect for anyone who exceeds her expectations.
Taylor never forgives.

Short Bio / History

###

 

[Shabazz]

LMG Character Sheet​

Character Name: Ahab Martins
Character Text Color Code: #800000

Appearance

Age: 71
An elderly man, wrinkled and senile as they usually are, Ahab has pale skin with a bald head and 4 missing teeth.

Flaws/Insecurities

Ahab is consumed with the though of looking young and handsome. He has become addicted to the new age defying drugs, spending every remaining penny of his fortune on his next fix. He is reckless and very often inconsiderate of other people around him.

Strengths/Resliences

Ahab is also a kind and gentle soul and he is an intelligent man who seems to know his way out of every problem. His old business partners and friends are also useful allies.

Short Bio / History

Wrinkled. All wrinkled. Oh the unbelievable disgust Ahab felt while gazing at his own senile reflection. It was as if Hades himself was tugging on his skin, reminding Ahab of his days numbered until he is to be shipped off to the underworld with the rest of mankind’s weak. Ahab touched the top of his head as it glistened in the pale white light of the bathroom ceiling.

“Be damned, when will these new hairs start to grow?” He exclaimed. “This is the third week, there must be some kind of mistake!” Ahab slammed a tense fist on the marble counter before him. His eyes shot across the bathroom to a tray full of bottles. Most where empty but one was full of tiny white pills. Ahab grabbed the bottle and effortlessly unscrewed the cap.

“This ought to do the trick.” He said to himself before placing a single pill on his tongue and swallowing. A few minutes went by. “Hmm, another couldn’t hurt.” Ahab decided to take one more pill. And then another, and then a few more. “These damned pirates! They lied to me! Lied! Where is my face? Where is my beautiful face?” Ahab was furious now as he continued to scoff down the capsules. In no time at all Ahab found himself collapsed on the floor. “Agh, vile wretches.” He reached out to the bottle next to him and managed to grab a hand full of pills, stuffing them down his throat before throwing up everything he had. “Agh, I will not! I will not succumb to my own damnation. Only God himself can kill me!” Ahab exclaimed with a faint voice, before breathing in his last breath. “The blackness... this cannot be my end... not like this...”

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

S Shabazz Did... did you just write yourself and then right out of this plotline?

 

[Shabazz]

I mean, I never said he wasn’t later revived at a hospital.

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

I mean, I never said he wasn’t later revived at a hospital.

Fair play, haha. I would have expected you to allude to the coming ambulance with flashing lights or a phone call. Either way, your character concept is fun. If you've checked the main thread you'll notice nothing has been posted. Waiting for Hydro to get his post up and the ball will be rolling. (should be tomorrow or Tuesday)

 

[Shabazz]

Cool