OOC Discussion

[Gus]

@Gus[/URL]
you better be ready to give me a god level review on incoming character.

God level? Pah. Gods are puny compared to Ooatu.

 

[lazee]

@St Indigo Here's a codename for you, 'Sputnik Robotski'

 

[Aldur]

@Gus


Ioana is facepalming so hard right now.

 

[Gus]

@Gus
Ioana is facepalming so hard right now.

Don't give yourself a concussion!

 

[Aldur]

Don't give yourself a concussion!

She might just do it.

 

[Gus]

Well if need be, Aaron can carry the whole class downstairs, but it will be a bit uncomfortable for people...

 

[Aldur]

Well if need be, Aaron can carry the whole class downstairs, but it will be a bit uncomfortable for people...

She may not show it, but Ioana appreciates it. I'll have a post up when I wake up

 

[Giyari]

So after a DAY'S delay I'm now writing two posts, sorry. Overwatch was more exciting to do on a Sunday.


Also unrelated (mostly) but I've got a new theme song for Viola once shit gets going.


[media]



[/media]

 

[Lemon Boy]

Yaaass Overwatch!


egyptian grandma incoming


Also just for anyone wondering and to curb any early concerns, I shall be INCREDIBLY active over the next Six weeks.


Summer holiday and everything, so I should be able to churn out responses like a factory!

 

[Aldur]

So after a DAY'S delay I'm now writing two posts, sorry. Overwatch was more exciting to do on a Sunday.
Also unrelated (mostly) but I've got a new theme song for Viola once shit gets going.


[media]



[/media]

Can't wait.

 

[Aldur]

I'll go on summer camp after this week and go under the radar for 2 more weeks. Should any opportunity to contact people/reply show itself I shall take it.


I'm gonna go ahead and start coming up with a Ioana post.

 

[Giyari]

ANA! Ana looks SO badass not even joking. Still, she can't beat Reinhardt Iron Granddad.

 

[Giyari]

I always forget until I look at her profile, but holy hell is Viola stacked.

 

[Gus]

14 more spyfall/skeleton posts to score a ccp!


ONE more for another in IC2!


Bring it home people!


I want to hit the ground swimming after the timeskip! Speaking of which, @St Indigo I was promised feedback… It is inadvisable to request godly favors without doing proper genuflection, homage and rituals of propitiation.


Or at the very least, reciprocity!

 

[Giyari]

@Gus

 

[Giyari]

ONE more for another in IC2!

NONE MORE! Woohaa!

 

[welian]

Congrats!

 

[Aldur]

I'll have a post up when I wake up

I lied.

 

[Giyari]

I lied.

 

[Aldur]

@Giyari


Loved that one, my friend. Really strong post.

 

[Aldur]

It's okay, now I can write both posts and be done with both at roughly the same time. ^^

 

[Giyari]

I am insanely happy with it. Although I have edited it about 6 times already (mostly punctuation and rewording) but I'm still damn pleased with it. Audio means ALL the business now.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Don't you love not getting notifs in OOC and finding 6 pages

 

[Giyari]

It's my favourite sport.

 

[Bag o Fruit]

@welian

Spoiler

HONKANEN, T

• Heroism
• Statistics

• Aspect	Scale
  COUR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	07
  ALTR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	04
  ORDR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	06
  KIND	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	03
  PRCT	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	07
  DIPL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	04

• Aspect	Scale
  HLTH	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  STRN	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  DEFN	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	03
  AGLT	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  INTL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  WILL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	03

• General
• Appearance
• Biography
• Relationships
• Superpowers

• Full Name
  
  Tamara Honkanen
  
  Nicknames
  
  Why, have you heard one?
  
  Codename
  
  The Jailor
  
  Gender
  
  F
  
  Age
  
  72
  
  Rank
  
  D
  
  Limiter
  
  Nope
  
  Role
  
  AEGIS Agent (freelance)
  
  
• Race
  
  White, but unreasonably tan.
  
  Hair
  
  Dirty blonde
  
  Eyes
  
  Blue
  
  Height
  
  5'4"
  
  Figure
  
  Muscular for a man
  
  Notes
  
  Quite a few on your private life. Also, she looks about 20. ... the history explains it somewhat.
  
  
• Loyal(Positive)
  
  
  Tam is slow to trust, and so she graces very few people with anything resembling it. Those she does, however, are like family to her (well, they're what other people would think of as being like family. She never trusted most of her family).
  
  
  Introverted (Neutral)
  
  
  No I'm not explaining it. Get out.
  
  
  Paranoid (Neutral)
  
  
  Having spent a lot of her life with the very real possibility of anyone at all being in on a plot to kill her, Tam finds it saves time to just assume that's always the case.
  
  
  Intrusive (Negative)
  
  
  Tam is nothing if not an investigator. Some people might object if they knew she was peeping on them or digging through their trash, but she would counter with the assertion that it's better that than they die. And by that she means she might shoot them if she doesn't know they're innocent.
  
  
  History
  
  
  Tam (no you can't call her that by the way) had a troubled childhood, alright? Wanna know more? Fuck you. On the field of childhoods, there is a perfect informational asymmetry between you and Tamara and by god it's gonna stay that way.
  
  
  She died in 1989 at the hands of the mafia she and her friends were fighting, at the age of 21 and a few days. She came back to life last year... but to her it seemed more like normal life, slowly fading into a dream, then fading back in in the year 20goddamn40. Commonwealth, she supposes, did... something. And she's gonna figure it out.
  
  
  Hard to get a job as a private eye in the new millenium.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Blue
  
  
  Tamara's part-time co-investigator who she met by abducting. Blue has an amazing ability to follow a trail, even now. Tamara has had her doubts, at times, but Blue's never been wrong about a lead.
  
  
  John Doe
  
  
  Probably the only person to be named this on purpose. Doe met originally with Blue and was also later abducted by Tamara. He was also a D class super, with the ability to speak with the dead.
  
  
  
• Main Power
  
  
  Jailing: Tamara can drag someone into a sort of corner reality, where time passes infinitely faster than in the real world. She can hold them there with her own prescience for about an hour of that experienced time. Essentially, she can squeeze a 25th hour into the day just to have some one-on-one time with somebody.
  
  
  • Thaumaturgy: While in her mindspace, she can change her voice, take whatever form she chooses or be invisible.
    
  
  
  Limitations
  
  
  • Effect on the Real World: None. Can't kill anybody's mind, can't be killed, can't change the important reality while inside the telepathic one.
    
  • Harder to Conceal Information: Tamara's got a hell of a poker face but the skill is a little bit different inside her headspace. If she tries to think something through, she might accidentally end up saying it out loud. Which is also true of her vict subject.

So... All the leads pointed here. To this sketchy castle in England. Hell of a swim. Even harder to get inside. The gate was... unusual. Not even barred from inside; that would have had a different feel. A wiggle, at the very least. This one just wouldn't move. And whoever was in charge knew it wouldn't move, going by the lack of a posted guard. One would have thought it was abandoned, except for the lights on inside. Candlelight. Friggin hippies.


Tamara left the gate to stew in its own otherworldly stubbornness and grabbed the grappling gun out of her pack. She scaled the side of the outer wall until she was underneath the closest dark window, grabbed it, and started to climb.


Having gotten about halfway up, she very nearly fell to her death a second time when a voice suddenly decided to profer a 'Helloooooo!' The tone was sufficently grating to make her consider letting go.


When she was certain she had a grip on the rope, she checked the nearby windows and caught a glimpse of something blue out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head one-eighty and saw a transparent, glowing bust of a figure. He looked to be about 18, and he had all the smirking overconfidence of an irresponsible super. Smells like teen spirit remarked the first uninvited and embarrassing pun to pop into her head.


"Hey." She nodded to him, although her wall-climbing position made it difficult. "Are you in charge here?"


"Haha!" The kid contorted his face into a grin that made her irritated and uncomfortable. "Of course! I'm... Er. Peeves, the In-Charge-Bloke!"


"Right. Will you let someone know I have a few questions about the disappearance of several children in the area?"


"Er..." Peeves disappeared into the wall for a second and popped back out grinning. "Yes! Yes I will! Just you wait! I'll let them know!" He giggled and dove back into the wall.


Wonderful. Best course of action was to keep climbing, whether or not the maladjusted wall-walker was actually going to announce her presence. And whether anyone would believe him.


She came up through the window and took in her surroundings. It was dark. That was why she chose it. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of moonlight, she could tell the room was large. It was ornate, and empty, save for a single sort of rectangular peice of furniture near the middle. A dance hall??


She approached the thing in the middle of the room, which turned out to be a mirror. It reflected her face, and she was struck by it, both of which often happen when one looks in the mirror. The person in the mirror always looks alien. They're the person you look at least in your life, although those generations to experience the advent of snapchat have the shock lessened. She sort of... missed out on the phenomena, so the mirror was... unusually...


Something moved in the darkness behind her and in an instant she had her revolver trained on it. She waited. Waited for someone to speak, for something to move, for anything. But nothing happened. She walked over to where the lurker had been and found nothing. Christ. She pulled a flashlight and held it up alongside the barrel of the gun, flattened her back against the wall and scanned.


She immediately noticed the mirror still reflecting her. Behind what she now was sure was just a pane of glass, someone half-smiled and waved at her a little. Someone who had somehow disguised themselves as her, but not quite convincingly enough. "Don't move." She commanded, pulling the hammer on the gun.


She worked her way around the room until she could see behind the pane of glass. There was nothing but sheer metal, perhaps aged brass. "What in the hell..." She quickly stalked over to the front of the mirror again and peeked in from around the edge. There was... her. And there was Blue. And Johnny. Her Blue and her Johnny. They were... they were as they were. They were young. And so was she. That was it. This was them in the old days. None of them were... None of them were old. This was them in '89.


God, they had so many plans... they had lives to go through with, they were going to rebuild the city after the mob was gone and then... and then she had died. And it was over. Over for her. And then she had woken up here. In 2040. In this cruel mockery of the world, where Blue was old and Johnny was dead. In this world that was not hers.


Her face stayed perfectly sober, her teeth grit and eyes steely. But one single tear made its way down her cheek. Her cheek, which had not seen a tear in 67 years, which had been too busy with sweat or blood or garbage juice; a world perfectly alien to tears. Nope. She decided. This is bullshit. She raised her weapon to the glassy surface and pulled the trigger.

Van Can, A

• Heroism
• Statistics

• Aspect	Scale
  COUR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	08
  ALTR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	06
  ORDR	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	05
  KIND	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	06
  PRCT	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	03
  DIPL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	09

• Aspect	Scale
  HLTH	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	01
  STRN	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  DEFN	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  AGLT	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	02
  INTL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	04
  WILL	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	03

• General
• Appearance
• Biography
• Relationships
• Superpowers

• Full Name
  
  Anneliese Van Can
  
  Nicknames
  
  Ms. Van Can (like mizz)
  
  Codename
  
  Agent 87
  
  Gender
  
  F
  
  Age
  
  41
  
  Rank
  
  D
  
  Limiter
  
  Level 1, inactive
  
  Role
  
  Agent/teacher
  
  
• Race
  
  Caucasian
  
  Hair
  
  Dark brown, occasional grey strand
  
  Eyes
  
  Green
  
  Height
  
  5'7"
  
  Figure
  
  Not exactly a heavy laborer, but not without meat on her bones.
  
  Notes
  
  Rarely seen without a wool turtleneck.
  
  
• Warm (Positive)
  
  
  Something about Anneliese just lets people know she can be opened up to. She has an understanding smile and a kindly, almost grandmotherly face even though she couldn't hardly be old enough.
  
  
  Quiet (Neutral)
  
  
  Fairly important step in listening. Unless it's to intermediate between two people speaking, she can stay quiet for other people as long as the flow of the conversation dictates.
  
  
  Empathic (Neutral)
  
  
  In sharing in other people's thoughts and feelings, Anneliese feels for people better than most. In fact, if anyone were able to understand what someone feels, it's her.
  
  
  Honest (Negative)
  
  
  Although (or perhaps because) she is quiet while others speak, ask her opinion and she will give exactly that, and if her opinion is that you're is an idiot she will tell you why. Ask her for advice and she will tell you exactly what she thinks you need to hear, however hard her answers may be.
  
  
  History
  
  
  Anneliese was born in Antwerpen, into a family of 5. She had two older brothers and later a little brother and sister. Nobody thought it was very odd how quickly she learned French and German, that being generally customary in Belgium, nor especially how quickly she learned English in the age of the internet. But she didn't learn English from the internet. She learned it from her father, who spoke to faraway American business partners. Partners who he often left home to do business with. Her mother entrusted many of the responsibilities that often fell upon her to her second son, the more reasonable of the two, but Anneliese generally ended up taking them on for herself. Over many years, she became the nanny of all her siblings while her mother cooked and cleaned. Somehow, she almost always beat out the television in entrancing the children.
  
  
  When she was 15 and three months, her father took the family on a vacation to Paris. It ended up being more trouble than relaxation for everyone, and Anneliese, trying to console her siblings while their mother and father fought, was finally drained dry of her massive reserve of patience. She said things to her parents that stopped their argument dead and left them stunned, as if they were children suddenly being shouted at by a parent. Then, she stalked out of their hotel room and slammed the door behind her.
  
  
  It was 8:00, March, dark and rainy. She walked down a grimily lit Paris street with nowhere to go, just a vague idea of finding a café. She didn't even see her attacker until he knocked her into an alleyway, where two more were waiting. They wanted money. Maybe they wanted more. Anneliese got up from her side, scrapes on her arm oozing blood and tears concealed by the heavy rain. She said 'Tu as déjà pris plus que nécessaire.' in a voice that implied she could crush them without trying. Her attacker hesitated, and then his arms started to go down to his sides.
  
  
  Her father, appearing from out of the street, swung his fists to either side of the man's head, dropping him. Anneliese's side suddenly stung, as though she had just registered that she had been leaning on a hot iron, and her father doubled over as if punched in the gut. Anneliese realized what had happened, and confirmed her fears. She turned and walked over to the muggers, who were trying to will their spectacular fuck-up out of reality, and she gave them a look. A glare. An accusation. And they ran.
  
  
  She hardly spoke for years after her father's funeral, and left home at 17. She travelled. She lived dangerously. She made mistakes. One day she sat down at a bar in Springfield, Illinois, next to a man in a greasy green jumpsuit and hat. He started a conversation, which in her experience meant he was going to buy her a drink, but instead he gave her money, and a business card for a gas station. 'Vobis pater nesciebam. Dissimilis vos.' he said. That absurd moment was the beginning of her life.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  None yet. Officially.
  
  
  
• Main Power
  
  
  Super-listening: No, not hearing. It means what it says. Anneliese listens to what is said, watches for what is unsaid, and thinks about what they mean (each of which could be a power in their own right even if she wasn't superhumanly good at them).
  
  
  • Language learning: Within even a day of hearing a conversation in any language, she can make connections between words, make guesses based on general grammatical and lexical structure, and articulately reproduce any sound she has heard until she is nearly fluent.
    
  • Intuition: There is a difference between 'Sure, fine, whatever you want to do' and 'Sure. Fine. Whatever you want to do' and it isn't just a hypothetical stenographer's choice of punctuation. Tone, body language, physical embellishment, context, subtext, pretext, cultural slang and even allusion or metaphor are crucial to listening to what someone really has to say. And no matter what someone really has to say, even if they say nothing, Anneliese can listen and interpret.
    
  
  
  Limitations
  
  
  • Overwhelming: There is so much to be gathered from even so simple a sentence as 'How are you?' that it takes quite a bit of her attention to function at her full capacity. If two people try to talk to her at once, she would be hard pressed to understand more than either the actual words spoken or the tone in which they were said, and more than three people could cause her actual pain as her mind automatically tries to devote equal attention to each.
    
  • Flexible: In understanding perfectly what someone says to you, you must to some extent take their statement or belief into yourself. As such, Anneliese is more susceptible than most to being convinced of other people's opinions.
    
  • Dyslexic: What more needs be said? As great as she is at person to person communication, it takes her a long time to read any written language. Letters square-dance across the page and reading through large texts for her is like a doing a word search.
    
  
  
  

Reality slowly faded in from the corners of oblivion, and the blurry jigsaw puzzle of senses came together. First the glaring sunlight, the heat from above, and then the coarse and yet yielding sand, heat from below. Assuaging those, a cool rhythm to be identified as the tides lapped Anneliese's toes. She smiled a little, remembering days gone decades by. Beach days. And beach nights... She luxuriated in the moment, in which her halcyon days took to a pseudo-dream and played out in the space of a thought. In which she didn't have to think about how they ended. Shit, that didn't last very long.


Wait... this was a beach. Why was she on a beach? She opened her eyes for as long as it took her to react to the sunlight that immediately entered, and instead sat up and buried her face in her sand-covered hands. A beach. What? Where was she last night? ... Berlin? Well, she was usually able to hold her drink better than this. Moreover, she didn't feel hungover at all. It was possible an enemy of AEGIS chloroformed her, but she didn't technically work for them and... select few people knew about the Q.


She stood up and squinted, finding open ocean. She was definitely not in Berlin, nor was she within black-out-wandering distance, in her experience. Not that that was a weekend occurrence anymore. More like on holidays. Turning around, she found fairly dense trees, somewhere between forest and jungle. Huh. She checked all around to find herself in the company of a backpack, and a definite lack of empty bottles. Bender entirely ruled out.


She knelt down and searched the pack, finding a tent, matches, and food. Odd... kidnappers don't usually leave survival supplies. And the only reason survival supplies would be necessary is if she was very far from a populated area. She was on an island. Right. This should be fairly simple.


After two hours walking through the woods, she emerged back on the beach with a backpack full of tinder and dragging a tent upon which lay many sticks, leaves, and chunks of wood. She constructed a bonfire, a simple matter with matches, and tended it for a while. When she was content with its vitality, she threw a bundle of leaves on it, producing thick, noxious smoke. Then she set to work, holding a wide leaf over the flames and drawing it back, holding it over and drawing it back, again and again. Puf... puf... puf... puffff... puffff... puffff... puf... puf... puf. S.O.S.