(no subject)
[ Player Name ] : Gnome
[ Personal LJ ] : mechanagnome
[ Age ] : 22
[ Timezone ] : US Central
[ Other Characters ] : None
[ Character's Name ] : Rattrap
[ Character's Age ] : He's not telling, but definitely old enough to know better. Likely upwards of 100 years.
[ Series ] : Beast Wars
[ Canon Point ] : As Earth's artificial moon explodes, releasing a transwarp wave upon the Axalon. AKA End of Season 1
[ History ] :
[ Character Page ][ Canon Page ]
[ Personality ] :
The least that could be said about Rattrap is that he smells. Granted, that doesn't give much insight into his personality, but it's still the least that can be said. If you're looking for something deeper, you're talking about the wrong mech. Rattrap doesn't hold much stuck in the philosophical crap. In fact, the only philosophy he really subscribes to is any that can be turned into a witty idiom concerning the wisdom of idiots. He's a practical mech, and an opportunist - the kind of opportunist who would move his things into the boss's chambers before his supposed corpse was even cold.
Hey, he wasn't going to use it! And it's not like he didn't give it back when it turned out the boss monkey wasn't actually dead. He may be a rat, but he's not without morals or responsibility. He knows when he screws up, and is more than willing to accept the consequences for them. If the mistake is bad enough, he'll even go out of his way to fix it, such as when his fighting with another mech set off the Axalon's security system, causing it to lock everyone out. The others called it suicide; he called it a piece of cake (and his fault. But mostly, it was cake.)
You see, Rattrap doesn't really trust anyone except for himself. He's been through enough of life to know what he can and cannot handle, and while he handles himself well, he's not afraid to tell his superiors where they can shove it if he doesn't want to do something. He's not completely self serving, but if you don't take the time to get to know him well, he certainly comes off that way. Despite being an extremely personal mech, it takes a fairly specific kind of person to actually put up with him. He's irreverent and rude, scuzzy and smarmy, just as likely to insult someone as he is to compliment their "assets." Life is all about the wine, women, and personal gain. And there are plenty of women in his life, because for all the sarcasm and blunt truths that comes from his mouth, he also has quite the silver tongue. He can lay out the charm when he wants to, and talk his way into and out of practically anything.
It's all a mask to keep people away, however, as buried deep beneath the layers of sarcasm and sin lies a pretty decent guy. He has a certain fondness for younger bots, taking amusement in their youthful enthusiasm and naivety with a sigh of "Oh, to be young again." And he might not show it often, but respect is a word in his vocabulary. It's always something to be earned, never given out simply for existing, but once earned, it's not something he takes lightly. It's not something he wears on his arm-plating, but when the cards are down, he will chose those he respects and cares about over himself. And he expects the same from his friends - betray him once, and you might never redeem yourself (unless you die valiantly in glorious battle while defending hapless, pre-evolved homo sapiens).
So, in the end, the least that could be said about Rattrap is that he smells. But if you're willing to dig past the jaded and self-serving surface, you might just find a slightly tarnished spark of gold.
[ Strengths/Weaknesses ] :
What, do you want a list of his stats? No? Primus, this could take a while...
Okay, so first of all, Rattrap is a robot. That means that he can be pretty much beat to hell, and still get up and keep on yapping. It also means that he doesn't necessarily age. Sure, parts get old and rusted, and upgrades come out all the time, but he can always swap those out without suffering negative consequences. His primary powersource is a thing called Energon, and I call it a thing because in Beast Wars it's primarily a crystal, but in other series it's just sort of an energy form that can be harvested and refined from pretty much anything. However, this is only a primary powersource, and he has a built in fuel-conversion take that can take organic material and format it into something he can process. He can eat food, however alcohol, gasoline, or coal would be far more efficient sources (but food tastes better). In addition, he has all the sort of things you would expect on a robot; virus scanners, bioscanners, Energon scanners, an assortment of cords and jacks, secret compartments, built in weapons, etc. He can also turn into a giant gray rat by folding up and pulling the pieces over him like a sort of shell.
As far as abilities go, they run a rather large spectrum. He's a skilled marksman, and he always carries a laser pistol on him. Always. He feels naked without his gun. He's also a demolitions expert, and can probably build a bomb out of a potato and some wire, if he had to. And he's a spy. There is not a building he can't get into, not a computer he can't hack, and no files he can't scurry off with. Believe it or not, he can sit still for long periods of time without running his mouth. He can also perform ship maintenance and build all sorts of little fun spy doohickeys and gadgets. And he's the best Energon Miner in the Vespa system. Oh, and he loves a good brawl.
But he is tiny compared to most other bots, and even to many humans. For a mech, he's very light weight, making him easily picked up and tossed around in a fight. He's a coward, and if things aren't skewed in his favor, he won't do them, which can put people in a very precarious position in a fight. His loyalty can be bought, and he does have a love for shinies and currency, and his own ego can get in the way of his judgment.
[ Other Important Facts ] :
Yes, he's a Transformer. No, he's not five stories tall. He's barely even five feet. He talks with a Brooklyn accent, and although I do plan on typing it out, if asked not to, I will leave it out, since I know that it can be hard to read.
[ Sample ] :
Welp.
Here he was, standing in what seemed to be an oversized goldfish bowl, watching the fish swim around him, without any sort of explanation of how he got here. The comm lines were down, and the only sort of life his scanners were picking up was organic. And it wasn't a glitch either, first thing he'd done was run every virus and malware program he had installed, then come up with a few of his own on the fly to cover anything they might have missed. Not a thing out of the ordinary.
So this was great, really. The only explanation he could think of was that when that odd transwarp wave hit the Axalon, he was somehow knocked into this... underwater nuthouse. Alone. No Optimus, no Rhinox, slag, not even Razormaw to keep him company. Which was fine, really. Better than being dead. Better than being out in the water. Better than a lot of things he could think of.
But still. That didn't mean he was happy. And oh, he was very, very not happy about this. Someone would be hearing exactly how not-happy about this he was very soon. But he would deal. He was the grand master of dealing. He had a degree in "Dealing With Stupid Slag" with minors "Frag This All To the Pit," and "Me and My Big, Fat Mouth," that's how good he was at dealing. But if anyone thought he was going to be happy about it, they have another thing coming. Nothing but organics to keep him company. Who even knew if there was anything close to intelligent life around for miles.
And for Primus's sake, this was not what he wanted to deal with when he signed up for that slagging exploration mission! Sure, he wanted action and adventure. But he wanted predictable action and adventure, the sort of standard fare everyone else got to deal with, not this... this... well, pardon his organic, but this horseshit! First it was the slaggin Predacons, then it was crash landing on some unknown dirtball in the aft-end of time and space with no way to call home, then the stupid standing stones and omnipotent energy beings out to get them all, and now this. This was stupid. This was absolutely stupid. He just wanted to visit strange and exotic places, meet new and interesting people, and blow off their heads when negotiations eventually went to the pit. But all this? This was too much.
He could really go for a cube of highgrade right now. Or five of them, really.
[ Questions? Comments? Concerns? ] :
[ Personal LJ ] : mechanagnome
[ Age ] : 22
[ Timezone ] : US Central
[ Other Characters ] : None
[ Character's Name ] : Rattrap
[ Character's Age ] : He's not telling, but definitely old enough to know better. Likely upwards of 100 years.
[ Series ] : Beast Wars
[ Canon Point ] : As Earth's artificial moon explodes, releasing a transwarp wave upon the Axalon. AKA End of Season 1
[ History ] :
[ Character Page ][ Canon Page ]
[ Personality ] :
The least that could be said about Rattrap is that he smells. Granted, that doesn't give much insight into his personality, but it's still the least that can be said. If you're looking for something deeper, you're talking about the wrong mech. Rattrap doesn't hold much stuck in the philosophical crap. In fact, the only philosophy he really subscribes to is any that can be turned into a witty idiom concerning the wisdom of idiots. He's a practical mech, and an opportunist - the kind of opportunist who would move his things into the boss's chambers before his supposed corpse was even cold.
Hey, he wasn't going to use it! And it's not like he didn't give it back when it turned out the boss monkey wasn't actually dead. He may be a rat, but he's not without morals or responsibility. He knows when he screws up, and is more than willing to accept the consequences for them. If the mistake is bad enough, he'll even go out of his way to fix it, such as when his fighting with another mech set off the Axalon's security system, causing it to lock everyone out. The others called it suicide; he called it a piece of cake (and his fault. But mostly, it was cake.)
You see, Rattrap doesn't really trust anyone except for himself. He's been through enough of life to know what he can and cannot handle, and while he handles himself well, he's not afraid to tell his superiors where they can shove it if he doesn't want to do something. He's not completely self serving, but if you don't take the time to get to know him well, he certainly comes off that way. Despite being an extremely personal mech, it takes a fairly specific kind of person to actually put up with him. He's irreverent and rude, scuzzy and smarmy, just as likely to insult someone as he is to compliment their "assets." Life is all about the wine, women, and personal gain. And there are plenty of women in his life, because for all the sarcasm and blunt truths that comes from his mouth, he also has quite the silver tongue. He can lay out the charm when he wants to, and talk his way into and out of practically anything.
It's all a mask to keep people away, however, as buried deep beneath the layers of sarcasm and sin lies a pretty decent guy. He has a certain fondness for younger bots, taking amusement in their youthful enthusiasm and naivety with a sigh of "Oh, to be young again." And he might not show it often, but respect is a word in his vocabulary. It's always something to be earned, never given out simply for existing, but once earned, it's not something he takes lightly. It's not something he wears on his arm-plating, but when the cards are down, he will chose those he respects and cares about over himself. And he expects the same from his friends - betray him once, and you might never redeem yourself (unless you die valiantly in glorious battle while defending hapless, pre-evolved homo sapiens).
So, in the end, the least that could be said about Rattrap is that he smells. But if you're willing to dig past the jaded and self-serving surface, you might just find a slightly tarnished spark of gold.
[ Strengths/Weaknesses ] :
What, do you want a list of his stats? No? Primus, this could take a while...
Okay, so first of all, Rattrap is a robot. That means that he can be pretty much beat to hell, and still get up and keep on yapping. It also means that he doesn't necessarily age. Sure, parts get old and rusted, and upgrades come out all the time, but he can always swap those out without suffering negative consequences. His primary powersource is a thing called Energon, and I call it a thing because in Beast Wars it's primarily a crystal, but in other series it's just sort of an energy form that can be harvested and refined from pretty much anything. However, this is only a primary powersource, and he has a built in fuel-conversion take that can take organic material and format it into something he can process. He can eat food, however alcohol, gasoline, or coal would be far more efficient sources (but food tastes better). In addition, he has all the sort of things you would expect on a robot; virus scanners, bioscanners, Energon scanners, an assortment of cords and jacks, secret compartments, built in weapons, etc. He can also turn into a giant gray rat by folding up and pulling the pieces over him like a sort of shell.
As far as abilities go, they run a rather large spectrum. He's a skilled marksman, and he always carries a laser pistol on him. Always. He feels naked without his gun. He's also a demolitions expert, and can probably build a bomb out of a potato and some wire, if he had to. And he's a spy. There is not a building he can't get into, not a computer he can't hack, and no files he can't scurry off with. Believe it or not, he can sit still for long periods of time without running his mouth. He can also perform ship maintenance and build all sorts of little fun spy doohickeys and gadgets. And he's the best Energon Miner in the Vespa system. Oh, and he loves a good brawl.
But he is tiny compared to most other bots, and even to many humans. For a mech, he's very light weight, making him easily picked up and tossed around in a fight. He's a coward, and if things aren't skewed in his favor, he won't do them, which can put people in a very precarious position in a fight. His loyalty can be bought, and he does have a love for shinies and currency, and his own ego can get in the way of his judgment.
[ Other Important Facts ] :
Yes, he's a Transformer. No, he's not five stories tall. He's barely even five feet. He talks with a Brooklyn accent, and although I do plan on typing it out, if asked not to, I will leave it out, since I know that it can be hard to read.
[ Sample ] :
Welp.
Here he was, standing in what seemed to be an oversized goldfish bowl, watching the fish swim around him, without any sort of explanation of how he got here. The comm lines were down, and the only sort of life his scanners were picking up was organic. And it wasn't a glitch either, first thing he'd done was run every virus and malware program he had installed, then come up with a few of his own on the fly to cover anything they might have missed. Not a thing out of the ordinary.
So this was great, really. The only explanation he could think of was that when that odd transwarp wave hit the Axalon, he was somehow knocked into this... underwater nuthouse. Alone. No Optimus, no Rhinox, slag, not even Razormaw to keep him company. Which was fine, really. Better than being dead. Better than being out in the water. Better than a lot of things he could think of.
But still. That didn't mean he was happy. And oh, he was very, very not happy about this. Someone would be hearing exactly how not-happy about this he was very soon. But he would deal. He was the grand master of dealing. He had a degree in "Dealing With Stupid Slag" with minors "Frag This All To the Pit," and "Me and My Big, Fat Mouth," that's how good he was at dealing. But if anyone thought he was going to be happy about it, they have another thing coming. Nothing but organics to keep him company. Who even knew if there was anything close to intelligent life around for miles.
And for Primus's sake, this was not what he wanted to deal with when he signed up for that slagging exploration mission! Sure, he wanted action and adventure. But he wanted predictable action and adventure, the sort of standard fare everyone else got to deal with, not this... this... well, pardon his organic, but this horseshit! First it was the slaggin Predacons, then it was crash landing on some unknown dirtball in the aft-end of time and space with no way to call home, then the stupid standing stones and omnipotent energy beings out to get them all, and now this. This was stupid. This was absolutely stupid. He just wanted to visit strange and exotic places, meet new and interesting people, and blow off their heads when negotiations eventually went to the pit. But all this? This was too much.
He could really go for a cube of highgrade right now. Or five of them, really.
[ Questions? Comments? Concerns? ] :