[OOC] App
Your name: crazythorn@lj
Your age: 19
Character: Sheryl Nome
Series: Macross Frontier
Character age: 17
Canon: It’s sci-fi! It’s a musical! Iiiiiiiiiit’s Macross!
Macross Frontier is the anniversary installment of the space-opera Macross franchise, an epic story of dogfights, love, and rock ‘n’ roll. The wandering colonization fleet, Frontier, has been attacked by the alien Vajra, and must rely on its pretty-boy hero, Alto Saotome, to protect it.
Sheryl Nome, the “Galactic Fairy,” is a chart-dominating pop star from Frontier’s sister fleet who is touring on Frontier when the Vajra attack. Initially, Sheryl’s demanding decisiveness and take-charge attitude lead some characters to rant about her being, well, a bit of a bitch. However, she proves that underlying her sometimes-abrasive determination there’s a strong young woman who’s worked tirelessly to get where she is, and who’s determined to take charge of her own destiny. In private (with Alto and fledgling performer Ranka Lee), Sheryl is high energy, self-assured, and flusteringly teasing… though this personal time is always squeezed into her self-imposed grueling work schedule.
Even under alien attack, Sheryl refuses to give up on eager fans (“if it’s a pilot’s job to fly, then it’s my job to sing!”), and prolongs her stay on Frontier to raise spirits by training as a pilot herself. But hey, that sort of devotion is par for the course - just part of what makes her the Sheryl Nome!
Sample Post:
♪ Hello fresh meat, hello new guy
Here I am at Camp Fuck You Die
Lizzie Sayre says we’ve hurt her
Something ‘bout her fiancée and a murder.
Nobody knows just who did it
So we can’t leave ‘til we find out how he bit it - ♪
- no, no, that’s all wrong! “Bit it” isn’t an invitation for the tech crew to shuffle onstage! Ms. Director, what are these deadbeat amateurs doing working at my camp debut? I don’t care if they’re the finest flesh-eating monsters this area can offer… my fans expect stagehands who won’t fall apart during the opening number, and we will provide them.
Oh my, but you’re the one who’s supposed to be in charge of that sort of thing here, aren’t you, Ms. Director? After all, I chose you and your camp as a venue because of your particular reputation as one of the toughest directors in the industry. “Absolutely cut-throat,” “ruthless control over all attending,” “an experience to die for,” “enthusiastic audience participation” - with critical acclaim like that, the last you can do is keep your employees in line, isn’t it? The lake… the sky… the trees… the hills should be alive with the sound of music, not undead with groans of the hired help! Of course, there won’t be much music to listen to until the sound system is salvaged. One of your stagehands gnawed the heads off the microphones this morning, and the whole concert is in treble until someone can fix the bass.
And after that’s taken care of, we can do something about your conductor and his atrocious choreography. “Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian, Mood Prepared” - please, Ms. Director, surely a woman with your resources and reputation can hire someone with credentials more impressive than his name. The first thing to go is his horrendous “guest appearance” intermission. That Marcy person he called onstage to “kiss the girl” was far too tentacles-on in practices - cut her and those suckers of hers from the live performance or else. Perverts! And if I ever learn that your shambling tech crew uploaded the video of my rehearsal entanglement with those flailing appendages to the ‘net, I’ll end their careers and I’ll end them! … though I suppose I can understand if the memory of that practice keeps them awake and moaning aaaaaaaaaaaaaall night long.
What do you mean, “they can’t upload anything”? “Impenetrable barrier”? “Weren’t you paying attention to the lyrics”? Like that means anything to me! Ms. Director, have you forgotten who I am? I’m Sheryl. Sheryl Nome. And I won’t be sitting around in your bubble for long. Whether or not this place is ready for me… whether or not you can control your staff… whether or not you say no one can leave… I will sing, and I will return home!
Camp Fuck You Die, listen to my song!
Your age: 19
Character: Sheryl Nome
Series: Macross Frontier
Character age: 17
Canon: It’s sci-fi! It’s a musical! Iiiiiiiiiit’s Macross!
Macross Frontier is the anniversary installment of the space-opera Macross franchise, an epic story of dogfights, love, and rock ‘n’ roll. The wandering colonization fleet, Frontier, has been attacked by the alien Vajra, and must rely on its pretty-boy hero, Alto Saotome, to protect it.
Sheryl Nome, the “Galactic Fairy,” is a chart-dominating pop star from Frontier’s sister fleet who is touring on Frontier when the Vajra attack. Initially, Sheryl’s demanding decisiveness and take-charge attitude lead some characters to rant about her being, well, a bit of a bitch. However, she proves that underlying her sometimes-abrasive determination there’s a strong young woman who’s worked tirelessly to get where she is, and who’s determined to take charge of her own destiny. In private (with Alto and fledgling performer Ranka Lee), Sheryl is high energy, self-assured, and flusteringly teasing… though this personal time is always squeezed into her self-imposed grueling work schedule.
Even under alien attack, Sheryl refuses to give up on eager fans (“if it’s a pilot’s job to fly, then it’s my job to sing!”), and prolongs her stay on Frontier to raise spirits by training as a pilot herself. But hey, that sort of devotion is par for the course - just part of what makes her the Sheryl Nome!
Sample Post:
♪ Hello fresh meat, hello new guy
Here I am at Camp Fuck You Die
Lizzie Sayre says we’ve hurt her
Something ‘bout her fiancée and a murder.
Nobody knows just who did it
So we can’t leave ‘til we find out how he bit it - ♪
- no, no, that’s all wrong! “Bit it” isn’t an invitation for the tech crew to shuffle onstage! Ms. Director, what are these deadbeat amateurs doing working at my camp debut? I don’t care if they’re the finest flesh-eating monsters this area can offer… my fans expect stagehands who won’t fall apart during the opening number, and we will provide them.
Oh my, but you’re the one who’s supposed to be in charge of that sort of thing here, aren’t you, Ms. Director? After all, I chose you and your camp as a venue because of your particular reputation as one of the toughest directors in the industry. “Absolutely cut-throat,” “ruthless control over all attending,” “an experience to die for,” “enthusiastic audience participation” - with critical acclaim like that, the last you can do is keep your employees in line, isn’t it? The lake… the sky… the trees… the hills should be alive with the sound of music, not undead with groans of the hired help! Of course, there won’t be much music to listen to until the sound system is salvaged. One of your stagehands gnawed the heads off the microphones this morning, and the whole concert is in treble until someone can fix the bass.
And after that’s taken care of, we can do something about your conductor and his atrocious choreography. “Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian, Mood Prepared” - please, Ms. Director, surely a woman with your resources and reputation can hire someone with credentials more impressive than his name. The first thing to go is his horrendous “guest appearance” intermission. That Marcy person he called onstage to “kiss the girl” was far too tentacles-on in practices - cut her and those suckers of hers from the live performance or else. Perverts! And if I ever learn that your shambling tech crew uploaded the video of my rehearsal entanglement with those flailing appendages to the ‘net, I’ll end their careers and I’ll end them! … though I suppose I can understand if the memory of that practice keeps them awake and moaning aaaaaaaaaaaaaall night long.
What do you mean, “they can’t upload anything”? “Impenetrable barrier”? “Weren’t you paying attention to the lyrics”? Like that means anything to me! Ms. Director, have you forgotten who I am? I’m Sheryl. Sheryl Nome. And I won’t be sitting around in your bubble for long. Whether or not this place is ready for me… whether or not you can control your staff… whether or not you say no one can leave… I will sing, and I will return home!
Camp Fuck You Die, listen to my song!