test post
Mun Name: Daniel Hawking
LJ:
op_longshot
Contact information:
email: daniel.hawking@gmail.com MSN nguyendanstar@hotmail.com IRC aralonia/mirihawke/danielhawking @ irc.rizon.net
Character's Name: Trent Winterbourne
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Species: Homo Sovieticus sapiens sapiens
Personality: (HERE COMES A RAMBLE BECAUSE I SUCK AT DESCRIBING PEOPLE) Solitary. Really, he's kinda lonely, and would like to get to know people better, but he just... doesn't handle people well. Call it an aura around him that drives people away, call it his slightly odd way of mispronouncing things, call it his mood swings. I guess you wouldn't consider him a real social guy at all - though he does have a tendency to make random commentary about the environment around him, either mutteringly or mentally.
Don't get me wrong, though! Even though he's a bit of a quiet eccentric, he'll be good to talk to if you want to talk to him when he wants to be talked to. Expect rambling and terse sentences! How fun. You can expect to find him wandering around randomly with some sort of self-defense weapon out, exploring and trying to discover new things for himself. I guess that's closer to the sort of person he is? Of course, he's easily tricked into finding new places to wander, which is why he's here on the worldship. Stupid git. Needs to learn some street smarts, the hard way.
He tends to keep his emotions on the inside, and tends to act entirely different internally and externally. He'll only show his real internal side to excessively interesting people. This may or may not be directly caused by the modern school system, though, and its lack of interesting people and shutting people in.
If you're nice enough to him, maybe he'll draw something for you. He's technically minded, though - he'll draw amazing guns and ammo and give wonderful diagrams of anything, but his humans look like cardboard boxes and his food looks like the internal mechanism of a cable modem. Otherwise, he's actually moderately intelligent and a jack of all trades, master of none.
Strengths: list format gogogo
-Good memory for events that are important
-Intuitively capable of figuring out things just from looking at them.
-Moderately light firearms training.
-Good at writing either short pieces or highly technical information.
-Not easily freaked out, but very, very curious.
-High finger dexterity.
Weaknesses: -When he has an idea, he sticks with it. Damn it if it's wrong, he sticks with it.
-Terrible people skills.
-Clumsy bastard.
-Confusing when he talks.
-Hates pears.
-Ankle issues, so he can't run as fast as most people, or he hops comically. Being a clumsy bastard, he fails at that, too.
-Afraid of both commitment to a cause that isn't his own, and basically the unknown of people in general.
History: Trent Winterbourne was born at the tender age of 0 days on 29th January 199x to two loving parents who tragically are not yet dead. "Tragically" because they happen to be the ugliest bloody human beings that Trent had ever met to this point. Well, at least to him. However, they're nice and loving people and wouldn't mind having him home for Christmas, and are very sad about him deciding to live in the dorms at Wainsborough Community Collegiate Environment.
He's the embodiment of the middle-class American boy - well-off, wears rather nice clothes, but yet saves up a bit and tries to make the best of what else he has. As long as he looks moderately decent and as long as everything else he has is moderately decent, and as long as his debit card has a boatload of cash on it that he won't use, he'll be okay. As a result, he went to a nice middle school with a graduating class of 40 students, a high school with a graduating class of 140 students, and now... goes to community college.
It's not his fault he decided to be a sort of a loner. He just didn't like any of the cliques at his school. Drama kids were too boring, language kids were too boring, everything was too boring. He went on every school trip and drew a hell of a lot and wrote a hell of a lot, but never really clicked with anyone. Maybe a few people he met in some of his classes, but those were probably year-only friendships. Anything longer than that would be people seeing this loner as an enigmatic figure, and wanting to know more for only shallow, personal gain. As a result, nobody really kept him in check and he got out of high school with a 2.76 GPA, barely passing, but really below what he should be doing.
The only interesting person he ever met during his time at his high school was a girl that he once met, while in Wainsborough on a school trip, with a lot of imagination. However, she disappeared by the two years that it took him to get to possibly see her again at the community college. "She probably moved away," he thinks. "Damnit. Should have gotten a number. Time to spend another 4 bored years doing God knows what."
That is, until the dream.
Appearance: http://i438.photobucket.com/albums/qq104/DanielHawking/Winterbourne.jpg oh jesus I am so sorry for the terrible artwork. Dark brown hair, average blue eyes, and yes, that's a long brown coat with tie and dress shirt.
Interesting information:
Doesn't talk much, sadly. When he does, though, expect long-winded explanations.
Has a bad ankle, for no reason except for I want him to hobble.
Every once in a while, he'll check his pockets for random items.
Might start randomly writing on his notepad if he has an idea. Or randomly draws on anything using dry-erase markers.
Samples
Character journal post:
You know, when I went to sleep, I wasn't entirely expecting to wake up somewhere that I wasn't supposed to. But that's entirely okay, isn't it? Damned sight a nicer place than the college dorm. Well, anything's nicer than that. New phone, too! So, now, young Winterbourne, where to? The people I'll meet, the things that I'll see. What's waiting for me out there? And... Honestly, now I'm curious. Let's get a list of things done first. Ah, technology. Too bad this is a Nokia... Anyways! List of questions. Lists. Always coming in handy, they. Gods, I'm never like this. Is this the power of starting to enjoy a situation again? Haven't done that in ages. I wonder if I've still got it...
1.) Where am I?
2.) When am I? Always important.
C.) No, wait,
3.) What's outside? Will it kill me or will it help me?
4.) Will I be able to survive this and tell my story?
5.), or
E.), or
v.) Will I meet anyone interesting? All in all, I really hope that nobody out there wants to kill me.
Log post:
Brushing the dust off his clothes, he stood up and looked around. _First things first. What do I have? New phone. Handy. Wonder if I get universal roaming. Anything on hand?_ He patted his pockets down, checking from top to bottom. _Clothes? I wasn't wearing my coat. Glad I am, though. Let's see. Pens? Feels like three on hand. Notepad. Plastic. That's not right._ He unbuttoned his coat and checked the cards in his inside pocket, reading then off.
"Congratulations, Trent Winterbourne. Newest guest aboard the Vardskepp. Vardskepp? What's that, Finnish? Swedish? Icelandic? Sounds Nordic. Bastards always double up random consonants and put umaluts over everything. And what's this about being aboard? Feels steady as a rock. Can't be a ship, it'd be too big to be one." He opened the card further and pop, out fell that keycard. "Money? Access? Looks different. Feels good, though." Winterbourne smiled as he pocketed his new tools and buttoned his long coat back up. "Right! Now then, let's go!"
He silently opened the door and stared out at the expanse of the vessel around him. _Room number... 287? Alright then, that doesn't help. I don't think this is mine, anyways... handy place to enter, though._ The time of day seemed oddly bright as he walked towards the light source, handily examining the nice grasses and such around him. _Grassy knoll? Something like this inside a building? Where the hell am I? This doesn't feel like synthetic._ He kicked at the grass, watching some freshly cut stuff fly up at his feet and float upwards on a breeze. _Sunlight. Skylight. Makes sense. So it's day time?_ "Nice place for a picnic... I wonder what else is around this place? Things to explore, people to meet." He smiled at the surroundings. "Spot of fresh air. And... I'm beginning to feel unsafe. I'm going to need a weapon. Sonic screwdriver?" He thought to himself and stopped walking before shaking his head. "Laser screwdriver. Who'd have sonic?"
LJ:
op_longshot
Contact information:
email: daniel.hawking@gmail.com MSN nguyendanstar@hotmail.com IRC aralonia/mirihawke/danielhawking @ irc.rizon.net
Character's Name: Trent Winterbourne
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Species: Homo Sovieticus sapiens sapiens
Personality: (HERE COMES A RAMBLE BECAUSE I SUCK AT DESCRIBING PEOPLE) Solitary. Really, he's kinda lonely, and would like to get to know people better, but he just... doesn't handle people well. Call it an aura around him that drives people away, call it his slightly odd way of mispronouncing things, call it his mood swings. I guess you wouldn't consider him a real social guy at all - though he does have a tendency to make random commentary about the environment around him, either mutteringly or mentally.
Don't get me wrong, though! Even though he's a bit of a quiet eccentric, he'll be good to talk to if you want to talk to him when he wants to be talked to. Expect rambling and terse sentences! How fun. You can expect to find him wandering around randomly with some sort of self-defense weapon out, exploring and trying to discover new things for himself. I guess that's closer to the sort of person he is? Of course, he's easily tricked into finding new places to wander, which is why he's here on the worldship. Stupid git. Needs to learn some street smarts, the hard way.
He tends to keep his emotions on the inside, and tends to act entirely different internally and externally. He'll only show his real internal side to excessively interesting people. This may or may not be directly caused by the modern school system, though, and its lack of interesting people and shutting people in.
If you're nice enough to him, maybe he'll draw something for you. He's technically minded, though - he'll draw amazing guns and ammo and give wonderful diagrams of anything, but his humans look like cardboard boxes and his food looks like the internal mechanism of a cable modem. Otherwise, he's actually moderately intelligent and a jack of all trades, master of none.
Strengths: list format gogogo
-Good memory for events that are important
-Intuitively capable of figuring out things just from looking at them.
-Moderately light firearms training.
-Good at writing either short pieces or highly technical information.
-Not easily freaked out, but very, very curious.
-High finger dexterity.
Weaknesses: -When he has an idea, he sticks with it. Damn it if it's wrong, he sticks with it.
-Terrible people skills.
-Clumsy bastard.
-Confusing when he talks.
-Hates pears.
-Ankle issues, so he can't run as fast as most people, or he hops comically. Being a clumsy bastard, he fails at that, too.
-Afraid of both commitment to a cause that isn't his own, and basically the unknown of people in general.
History: Trent Winterbourne was born at the tender age of 0 days on 29th January 199x to two loving parents who tragically are not yet dead. "Tragically" because they happen to be the ugliest bloody human beings that Trent had ever met to this point. Well, at least to him. However, they're nice and loving people and wouldn't mind having him home for Christmas, and are very sad about him deciding to live in the dorms at Wainsborough Community Collegiate Environment.
He's the embodiment of the middle-class American boy - well-off, wears rather nice clothes, but yet saves up a bit and tries to make the best of what else he has. As long as he looks moderately decent and as long as everything else he has is moderately decent, and as long as his debit card has a boatload of cash on it that he won't use, he'll be okay. As a result, he went to a nice middle school with a graduating class of 40 students, a high school with a graduating class of 140 students, and now... goes to community college.
It's not his fault he decided to be a sort of a loner. He just didn't like any of the cliques at his school. Drama kids were too boring, language kids were too boring, everything was too boring. He went on every school trip and drew a hell of a lot and wrote a hell of a lot, but never really clicked with anyone. Maybe a few people he met in some of his classes, but those were probably year-only friendships. Anything longer than that would be people seeing this loner as an enigmatic figure, and wanting to know more for only shallow, personal gain. As a result, nobody really kept him in check and he got out of high school with a 2.76 GPA, barely passing, but really below what he should be doing.
The only interesting person he ever met during his time at his high school was a girl that he once met, while in Wainsborough on a school trip, with a lot of imagination. However, she disappeared by the two years that it took him to get to possibly see her again at the community college. "She probably moved away," he thinks. "Damnit. Should have gotten a number. Time to spend another 4 bored years doing God knows what."
That is, until the dream.
Appearance: http://i438.photobucket.com/albums/qq104/DanielHawking/Winterbourne.jpg oh jesus I am so sorry for the terrible artwork. Dark brown hair, average blue eyes, and yes, that's a long brown coat with tie and dress shirt.
Interesting information:
Doesn't talk much, sadly. When he does, though, expect long-winded explanations.
Has a bad ankle, for no reason except for I want him to hobble.
Every once in a while, he'll check his pockets for random items.
Might start randomly writing on his notepad if he has an idea. Or randomly draws on anything using dry-erase markers.
Samples
Character journal post:
You know, when I went to sleep, I wasn't entirely expecting to wake up somewhere that I wasn't supposed to. But that's entirely okay, isn't it? Damned sight a nicer place than the college dorm. Well, anything's nicer than that. New phone, too! So, now, young Winterbourne, where to? The people I'll meet, the things that I'll see. What's waiting for me out there? And... Honestly, now I'm curious. Let's get a list of things done first. Ah, technology. Too bad this is a Nokia... Anyways! List of questions. Lists. Always coming in handy, they. Gods, I'm never like this. Is this the power of starting to enjoy a situation again? Haven't done that in ages. I wonder if I've still got it...
1.) Where am I?
2.) When am I? Always important.
C.) No, wait,
3.) What's outside? Will it kill me or will it help me?
4.) Will I be able to survive this and tell my story?
5.), or
E.), or
v.) Will I meet anyone interesting? All in all, I really hope that nobody out there wants to kill me.
Log post:
Brushing the dust off his clothes, he stood up and looked around. _First things first. What do I have? New phone. Handy. Wonder if I get universal roaming. Anything on hand?_ He patted his pockets down, checking from top to bottom. _Clothes? I wasn't wearing my coat. Glad I am, though. Let's see. Pens? Feels like three on hand. Notepad. Plastic. That's not right._ He unbuttoned his coat and checked the cards in his inside pocket, reading then off.
"Congratulations, Trent Winterbourne. Newest guest aboard the Vardskepp. Vardskepp? What's that, Finnish? Swedish? Icelandic? Sounds Nordic. Bastards always double up random consonants and put umaluts over everything. And what's this about being aboard? Feels steady as a rock. Can't be a ship, it'd be too big to be one." He opened the card further and pop, out fell that keycard. "Money? Access? Looks different. Feels good, though." Winterbourne smiled as he pocketed his new tools and buttoned his long coat back up. "Right! Now then, let's go!"
He silently opened the door and stared out at the expanse of the vessel around him. _Room number... 287? Alright then, that doesn't help. I don't think this is mine, anyways... handy place to enter, though._ The time of day seemed oddly bright as he walked towards the light source, handily examining the nice grasses and such around him. _Grassy knoll? Something like this inside a building? Where the hell am I? This doesn't feel like synthetic._ He kicked at the grass, watching some freshly cut stuff fly up at his feet and float upwards on a breeze. _Sunlight. Skylight. Makes sense. So it's day time?_ "Nice place for a picnic... I wonder what else is around this place? Things to explore, people to meet." He smiled at the surroundings. "Spot of fresh air. And... I'm beginning to feel unsafe. I'm going to need a weapon. Sonic screwdriver?" He thought to himself and stopped walking before shaking his head. "Laser screwdriver. Who'd have sonic?"