[ ooc ] [ app ]
Your Name: Xhan
Age: 22
Username: xhannay
Email: xhan23@hotmail.com
IM: xhan23
Character Name: Joseph 'Jimmy' Ivers
Background:
When the world went to hell, the bulk of the continents and their inhabitants were destroyed. Along with the virus and the even more dangerous 'cure' that followed, war broke out across the countries. Blame was placed on everyone else, allies turned against each other and paranoid and desperate attacks took place.
In a bid to stay alive and prove victorious in the battles that would inevitably follow, military scientists were forced to push the limits and step into what had always been considered forbidden science. Genetic engineering, human cloning and ultimately human experimentation and alteration were what followed. Given the state of the world, willing test subjects were not hard to find; however, what they had and what they needed were two very different things. The battles continued for a time, until one day the experiments rebelled. Facilities were destroyed and the projects; the experiments walked free. Human soldiers joined forces to put a stop to what they considered a genetic plague that was sweeping across the country. The creatures were dangerous, humanoid for the most part but capable of things far greater than a normal man.
Some were shifters, able to turn into the beast that had been set into their system. Others were psychic, manipulating the thoughts of any they chose without the person so much as realizing there was anything going on. Then there were the dream walkers, the ghosts and the half man, half beasts. The 'human' populace feared the unknown and, without even trying to reason with those they had created, a fight to contain them took place.
Joseph Ivers was born at 11:58pm on April 15. At 12:01am, April 16, his twin brother Sean followed along. The pair were normal, healthy boys, free of contamination, viral infection or sickness of any kind. Their parents were poor, and their mother unwell so the boys were raised to work for their keep. Father stole cars, Joe and the boys would strip them for their worth and either scrap or rebuild. In his teens, Joe got into more dangerous work, ranging from armed robbery to smuggling. Finally the authorities caught him, put him to trial and, at the risk of his twin being imprisoned as well, Joe took the blame for both of them. A 5 year sentence became 10.
After a year in the slammer, Joe was offered the chance to enlist into the military: serve 3 years and be free. He took the chance, but it wasn't what he thought. Joe's squadron did the worst jobs of the lot. If the soldiers couldn't/wouldn't do the task, Joe's team was sent in to clean up the mess. They hunted innocent experiments and killed them off. Technically he was still in prison, so everything he did under that oath technically didn't happen.
Four years of hell and Joe was a changed man. A lot of his team didn't make it and all of them were more disturbed than before. He was released, monitored and after a year without giving any reason for recapture or causing any trouble, Joe was finally free. Determined not to slip back into old habits, he took on odd jobs, doing whatever, whenever and making enough to get by. By chance, he discovered he could cook quite well and enjoyed the task. With the money he had, Joe left Ireland and travelled, checking in with the authorities as required and working as he went. Eventually, he found himself in Germany and worked his way up to become the co-owner of a crappy little diner on the bad side of town. Joe loved what he did and (mostly) followed the rules until a street riot between military and mutants broke out and his store was burned to the ground. Caught up in the danger on the streets and unaware of the fate of his store, Joe took a hard punch to the back of the head and passed out. When he woke, he was on the boat.
Personality:
Jimmy is the softer of the two brothers. He's a joker with a dark history, but still a good enough guy that he's trying to get past that. The man wants to be better and make a change in the world. He's protective of his family, namely his twin brother and will do anything to keep Sean out of trouble. Joe gets along well with kids and has little to no shame. He'll do anything to get a laugh out of someone he likes and when teamed with his brother is pretty much unstoppable.
He drinks, he swears and he likes to laugh. Joe finds the best way to make him feel better about himself, is to be good to the people around him. If Joe takes you on as a friend, he'll do just about anything to keep you safe and well. He doesn't talk about his past, and military or police of any kind earn his automatic dislike. Cooking calms him down, so when he's stressed, Joe focuses on that.
IN SUMMARY: He swears like a trooper, smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish, but will cook you the best damn potatoes you've ever damn well eaten.
Appearance::
Joe stands at 5'10 and has dark brown hair. His build is average, neither skinny nor large and what weight is on him is muscle. More often than not, Joe needs to shave and his chin and mouth area is practically always covered in stubble. His childhood was spent wrestling with his brother, fighting the other kids in the street and running errands for his parents, and in his teens he took up boxing. After that came a bit of mechanic work before the crime wave that would lead to his imprisonment and eventual military time, so while not quite as buff as his younger brother Sean, Joseph is quite lean and fit.
He's got quite a few scars from being sliced, shot and knifed, and on his right cheek bone is an inch long scar. Joe has three tattoos. On his upper back, behind his left shoulder is a celtic dog. This one he got willingly.
The others are a little less kind. On the left side of his neck is his prison tatt, a marker given to all who serve jail time. It's like a barcode, a combination of letters and numbers individual to the prisoner and marking the insertion of a blood tracker chip (detection item so that authorities know where he is at all times).
On his left arm is cerberus, the mark of his military life and lifelong reminder that he served in the dirtiest, worst, most brutal division. It's not something he's proud of and will never speak of it if he can get away with it.
Spoken / written languages: English, Gaelic.
Abilities: Joseph is a normal human. He is however a mean cook and pretty darn good with a guitar. Joe can strip a car and, give or take a few small mistakes and a lot of curse words, put it back together in a mostly working order. He's good for a fist fight and is a pretty good aim with a gun.
Items: Two packets of cigarettes (one open and half empty, one sealed), a zippo lighter, a
kahki green baseball cap, a half eaten packet of gummy bears, twenty-seven dollars and a spoon.
Third Person Sample:
Caleb sneered over his coffee at the man on the other side of the counter. "You're kidding me. Four years ago you were one of the most corrupt bastards I've ever known, and now you're what... a kitchen bitch?"
The dark haired man paused and fixed Caleb with a silent, warning stare. He held his gaze, waiting for Caleb to flinch before acknowledging the comment. "I told ya, Caleb," he said, turning his attention back to the steak that sizzled in the pan and flipping it to the other side. "I'm done with that shit. Prison these days is fucking bad, but being enlisted is a whole new can of worms. My three years is up. I came off lucky this time. Be fucked if I go near that again, aye?"
Caleb frowned. "Yeah, but... cooking? Joe. You're good at it, yeah, but this ain't your thing."
Joe didn't reply, instead stabbing at the steak with a little more force that it deserved and dishing it up onto a plate. Accompanied with toast, eggs and a mug of black sludge with enough caffeine in to blast a rocket into space, it really wasn't a bad meal. The store might of been small and dingy, with crappy lighting and located on the wrong side of town, but anyone that ate there was up for a good meal so long as Joseph was working it's kitchen. His hands were rough, calloused fingers reaching to pick up the plate and cutlery and deliver it to Caleb. The plate hit the table with a dull thud which was closely followed by the clatter of a knife and fork following suit. Reaching out with his foot, Joe dragged a stool across the floor and took a seat. A moment later he was lighting up a cigarette and watching Caleb with a slightly skeptical eye. "You eat that fuckin' meal and tell me this ain't my thing, Caleb."
From across the counter, the blonde man grinned. He had to admit, Joe was the best cook he knew, even without formal training of any kind. The guy just had a knack for putting things together and turning a bunch of nothing into a meal worth eating. Still, if one knew the past of Joseph as well as Caleb did, it would be much easier to understand the doubt in Joseph's choice of profession. "I'm just saying, Joey, that you've got other strengths that are way more interesting than this."
It was Joe's turn to frown, brow taking a distinct downward turn and lip curling faintly. "And I'm fuckin' sayin' that I'm done with that shit. I ain't sayin' it again, Caleb. Fuck me dead. Bring it up again and I'll break that pretty little face of yours."
Caleb was anything but pretty, though the message got through loud and clear. "Yeah, yeah."
Unmoving, Joseph continued to glare at his friend. They might of gotten along well and had known each other since they were kids, but there were times when the men wanted nothing more than to smack the other across the face. Generally, they did just that.
First Person Sample:
[The comm clicks on. Joseph sounds amused, if a little annoyed.]
Alright! Alright. You fucking got me. Now which one of you bastards wants to tell me what the fuck is up with this boat and where the fuck it's takin' me?
Ach. I promised a young lass I'd help her out tonight and I'd rather not disappoint.
[He pauses. There's the sound of a lighter flickering and then another moment of silence before a steady exhale.]
Spill your guts, listeners. I want off this tugboat. Sean, if you're involved in this, take note: I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya. My head is fuckin' cainin'.
[Joe makes a pained sound and the transmission ends.]
Preferred Quarters: Somewhere near his bro? Any deck is fine.
Age: 22
Username: xhannay
Email: xhan23@hotmail.com
IM: xhan23
Character Name: Joseph 'Jimmy' Ivers
Background:
When the world went to hell, the bulk of the continents and their inhabitants were destroyed. Along with the virus and the even more dangerous 'cure' that followed, war broke out across the countries. Blame was placed on everyone else, allies turned against each other and paranoid and desperate attacks took place.
In a bid to stay alive and prove victorious in the battles that would inevitably follow, military scientists were forced to push the limits and step into what had always been considered forbidden science. Genetic engineering, human cloning and ultimately human experimentation and alteration were what followed. Given the state of the world, willing test subjects were not hard to find; however, what they had and what they needed were two very different things. The battles continued for a time, until one day the experiments rebelled. Facilities were destroyed and the projects; the experiments walked free. Human soldiers joined forces to put a stop to what they considered a genetic plague that was sweeping across the country. The creatures were dangerous, humanoid for the most part but capable of things far greater than a normal man.
Some were shifters, able to turn into the beast that had been set into their system. Others were psychic, manipulating the thoughts of any they chose without the person so much as realizing there was anything going on. Then there were the dream walkers, the ghosts and the half man, half beasts. The 'human' populace feared the unknown and, without even trying to reason with those they had created, a fight to contain them took place.
Joseph Ivers was born at 11:58pm on April 15. At 12:01am, April 16, his twin brother Sean followed along. The pair were normal, healthy boys, free of contamination, viral infection or sickness of any kind. Their parents were poor, and their mother unwell so the boys were raised to work for their keep. Father stole cars, Joe and the boys would strip them for their worth and either scrap or rebuild. In his teens, Joe got into more dangerous work, ranging from armed robbery to smuggling. Finally the authorities caught him, put him to trial and, at the risk of his twin being imprisoned as well, Joe took the blame for both of them. A 5 year sentence became 10.
After a year in the slammer, Joe was offered the chance to enlist into the military: serve 3 years and be free. He took the chance, but it wasn't what he thought. Joe's squadron did the worst jobs of the lot. If the soldiers couldn't/wouldn't do the task, Joe's team was sent in to clean up the mess. They hunted innocent experiments and killed them off. Technically he was still in prison, so everything he did under that oath technically didn't happen.
Four years of hell and Joe was a changed man. A lot of his team didn't make it and all of them were more disturbed than before. He was released, monitored and after a year without giving any reason for recapture or causing any trouble, Joe was finally free. Determined not to slip back into old habits, he took on odd jobs, doing whatever, whenever and making enough to get by. By chance, he discovered he could cook quite well and enjoyed the task. With the money he had, Joe left Ireland and travelled, checking in with the authorities as required and working as he went. Eventually, he found himself in Germany and worked his way up to become the co-owner of a crappy little diner on the bad side of town. Joe loved what he did and (mostly) followed the rules until a street riot between military and mutants broke out and his store was burned to the ground. Caught up in the danger on the streets and unaware of the fate of his store, Joe took a hard punch to the back of the head and passed out. When he woke, he was on the boat.
Personality:
Jimmy is the softer of the two brothers. He's a joker with a dark history, but still a good enough guy that he's trying to get past that. The man wants to be better and make a change in the world. He's protective of his family, namely his twin brother and will do anything to keep Sean out of trouble. Joe gets along well with kids and has little to no shame. He'll do anything to get a laugh out of someone he likes and when teamed with his brother is pretty much unstoppable.
He drinks, he swears and he likes to laugh. Joe finds the best way to make him feel better about himself, is to be good to the people around him. If Joe takes you on as a friend, he'll do just about anything to keep you safe and well. He doesn't talk about his past, and military or police of any kind earn his automatic dislike. Cooking calms him down, so when he's stressed, Joe focuses on that.
IN SUMMARY: He swears like a trooper, smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish, but will cook you the best damn potatoes you've ever damn well eaten.
Appearance::
Joe stands at 5'10 and has dark brown hair. His build is average, neither skinny nor large and what weight is on him is muscle. More often than not, Joe needs to shave and his chin and mouth area is practically always covered in stubble. His childhood was spent wrestling with his brother, fighting the other kids in the street and running errands for his parents, and in his teens he took up boxing. After that came a bit of mechanic work before the crime wave that would lead to his imprisonment and eventual military time, so while not quite as buff as his younger brother Sean, Joseph is quite lean and fit.
He's got quite a few scars from being sliced, shot and knifed, and on his right cheek bone is an inch long scar. Joe has three tattoos. On his upper back, behind his left shoulder is a celtic dog. This one he got willingly.
The others are a little less kind. On the left side of his neck is his prison tatt, a marker given to all who serve jail time. It's like a barcode, a combination of letters and numbers individual to the prisoner and marking the insertion of a blood tracker chip (detection item so that authorities know where he is at all times).
On his left arm is cerberus, the mark of his military life and lifelong reminder that he served in the dirtiest, worst, most brutal division. It's not something he's proud of and will never speak of it if he can get away with it.
Spoken / written languages: English, Gaelic.
Abilities: Joseph is a normal human. He is however a mean cook and pretty darn good with a guitar. Joe can strip a car and, give or take a few small mistakes and a lot of curse words, put it back together in a mostly working order. He's good for a fist fight and is a pretty good aim with a gun.
Items: Two packets of cigarettes (one open and half empty, one sealed), a zippo lighter, a
kahki green baseball cap, a half eaten packet of gummy bears, twenty-seven dollars and a spoon.
Third Person Sample:
Caleb sneered over his coffee at the man on the other side of the counter. "You're kidding me. Four years ago you were one of the most corrupt bastards I've ever known, and now you're what... a kitchen bitch?"
The dark haired man paused and fixed Caleb with a silent, warning stare. He held his gaze, waiting for Caleb to flinch before acknowledging the comment. "I told ya, Caleb," he said, turning his attention back to the steak that sizzled in the pan and flipping it to the other side. "I'm done with that shit. Prison these days is fucking bad, but being enlisted is a whole new can of worms. My three years is up. I came off lucky this time. Be fucked if I go near that again, aye?"
Caleb frowned. "Yeah, but... cooking? Joe. You're good at it, yeah, but this ain't your thing."
Joe didn't reply, instead stabbing at the steak with a little more force that it deserved and dishing it up onto a plate. Accompanied with toast, eggs and a mug of black sludge with enough caffeine in to blast a rocket into space, it really wasn't a bad meal. The store might of been small and dingy, with crappy lighting and located on the wrong side of town, but anyone that ate there was up for a good meal so long as Joseph was working it's kitchen. His hands were rough, calloused fingers reaching to pick up the plate and cutlery and deliver it to Caleb. The plate hit the table with a dull thud which was closely followed by the clatter of a knife and fork following suit. Reaching out with his foot, Joe dragged a stool across the floor and took a seat. A moment later he was lighting up a cigarette and watching Caleb with a slightly skeptical eye. "You eat that fuckin' meal and tell me this ain't my thing, Caleb."
From across the counter, the blonde man grinned. He had to admit, Joe was the best cook he knew, even without formal training of any kind. The guy just had a knack for putting things together and turning a bunch of nothing into a meal worth eating. Still, if one knew the past of Joseph as well as Caleb did, it would be much easier to understand the doubt in Joseph's choice of profession. "I'm just saying, Joey, that you've got other strengths that are way more interesting than this."
It was Joe's turn to frown, brow taking a distinct downward turn and lip curling faintly. "And I'm fuckin' sayin' that I'm done with that shit. I ain't sayin' it again, Caleb. Fuck me dead. Bring it up again and I'll break that pretty little face of yours."
Caleb was anything but pretty, though the message got through loud and clear. "Yeah, yeah."
Unmoving, Joseph continued to glare at his friend. They might of gotten along well and had known each other since they were kids, but there were times when the men wanted nothing more than to smack the other across the face. Generally, they did just that.
First Person Sample:
[The comm clicks on. Joseph sounds amused, if a little annoyed.]
Alright! Alright. You fucking got me. Now which one of you bastards wants to tell me what the fuck is up with this boat and where the fuck it's takin' me?
Ach. I promised a young lass I'd help her out tonight and I'd rather not disappoint.
[He pauses. There's the sound of a lighter flickering and then another moment of silence before a steady exhale.]
Spill your guts, listeners. I want off this tugboat. Sean, if you're involved in this, take note: I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya. My head is fuckin' cainin'.
[Joe makes a pained sound and the transmission ends.]
Preferred Quarters: Somewhere near his bro? Any deck is fine.