Application and contact info!
PLAYER INFORMATION-
Name/Nickname: Molly
AIM/E-mail/Contact: singswithtrees (AIM) singswithtrees@hotmail.com
LJ: singswithtrees
CHARACTER INFORMATION-
Canon Character and Series: Tank Girl, Tank Girl
In-Game Name: Tank Girl (given name Rebecca Buck, but she never uses it)
Age: 21
Gender: female/riotgrrrl
Position & Ship: gunner, Winding Way
Appearance: Tank Girl, for all her rage and fury, is a pretty woman. She's a bit wiry, with arms and legs that have definite muscles showing. She's 5' 6", around 135 lbs, all of it made to kick some serious ass. Usually seen with a shaved head except for a single forelock that may or may not originally have been blonde (as it's usually dyed an outlandish color) and a devil-may-care grin on her face. Her brown eyes may or may not be hidden behind sunglasses or goggles, depending on the day, and she'll more likely than not be sporting lots of bruises and scrapes. Her fashion sense is either eclectic or nonexistent, depending on who you ask, and she tends to throw together what she likes, and screw what anyone else thinks. She rarely, if ever, dresses up for anything, and is a nightmare at fancy dress balls.
Personality: Tank Girl does things her own way. A stark individualist with anarchist sensibilities, she's been on her own as far back as she can remember, and as such, takes care of herself first and foremost. She can be loud, rude, and obnoxious much of the time, usually because she genuinely doesn't care what other people think. If they don't like it, they can find someone else to bum a beer off of. She does make friends with relative ease, though, as well as casual lovers. Tank Girl tends to present herself just the way she is, no playing to the expectations of others for the sake of being social. She's a thrill-a-minute sort of person, and is happiest when she's got something fun to do or shoot.
Yet despite the rough exterior, there is more depth to her than meets the eye. Her spontaneity and love of adventure are genuine, and her enthusiasm for a new repair project or money-making scheme can be contagious. Almost childlike when she's happy and working on repairing the treads on a tank or polishing a weapon until it shines, Tank Girl can be nice when the mood strikes her. However content she may seem at a given moment, mellow she is not. She takes to new friends and new cities to visit with the same intensity and interest as a child does for dinosaurs or fire trucks. She loves hard and fast, and though her sense of humor might come across as insensitive or rude to some, she likes a good laugh as much as anyone. She takes very few things seriously, which can be an asset or a detriment, depending upon who you ask.
Abilities/Weapons: She doesn't have much of anything in the way of special abilities, but Tank Girl is a whiz with pretty much any gun she lays her hands on. She's a superb marksman, and is also handy at repairing firearms, from small pistols to the bigger guns and cannons that a ship uses. Asking her to make certain that all of the weapons on the ship are restored to working order is one of the few ways to keep her busy for more than a few hours. While not in possession of a weapon of her own, Tank Girl will happily tend to the guns of whatever ship she ends up on. In a fistfight, she flings a punch moderately well, but is better at getting the other guy mad and then running away more than anything else. She can also open beer cans with her teeth, but it's not much of an "ability". More of a "convenient party trick".
How well can your character hack?: She could probably figure it out if she cared to. She's usually busy being out and doing stuff, though, so I can't imagine that she would pay much attention to learning to hack unless there was a distinct advantage for her.
Weaknesses: Tank Girl gets bored pretty easily, and when she gets bored, she gets creative in ways that most people might not want to see. She has nothing against making a bit of money off of a friend's misfortune, and has no sense of modesty. She's loyal to a point, but she comes first in her own mind. Tank Girl is also quite casual when it comes to relationships, and has no qualms about lovers running into each other in the hall and finding out about each other. She might even find it amusing. Authority is usually not her friend, and she may have trouble following orders exactly as given.
History: No one really knows the exact details of her history but her, since she keeps changing the story to keep people on their toes and to keep herself amused. Some basic facts, however, seem to remain constant: the daughter of people who had the horrible idea to try and make a life for themselves in the Badlands, Tank Girl was orphaned at the age of seven. She tried hard to fend for herself, but though she had the spirit to keep on fighting, she didn't possess the knowledge of how to survive on her own, much less thrive in such a harsh environment. Weak and exhausted from the effort of trying to keep herself alive, she managed to drag herself toward a campfire that she saw glowing in the distance.
The owners of said fire found her the next morning and took pity on her. Thus, Tank Girl grew up with and was raised by a makeshift tribe of demihumans. She quickly became comfortable with them, and thought of the motley group as her own family. With little memory of the human family that she was born to, Tank Girl became more at ease with demihumans of various stripes than she was with her own "species". They taught her to forage and hunt, and how to sneak into small settlements of normal humans to steal the occasional supplies or tools. The first thing that she ever stole for herself was a set of tools, and she quickly showed a mechanical aptitude, keeping herself busy tinkering with parts of old clanks and whatnot, often tearing something apart just to see how it worked.
As she got older, her role within the tribe became more of that of a protector and warrior than of a scavenger with the other women and children. With her skill in cobbling together bits of disused weaponry into workable, if somewhat unwieldy, finished pieces, most everyone in her adopted family was soon equipped with at least a good knife. Tank Girl had a keen eye for picking out bits of junk that would work well together to form a coherent whole. She developed a special fondness for guns, and was delighted when she chanced upon the wreck of an old and rusty tank. She made it her own, moving in and keeping house there as much as she ever keeps house, not really being of the domestic type.
Recently, though, she's decided that she wants to see more of the world, and maybe make a little money to boot. With that in mind, she strapped on her knapsack and her combat boots, and walked to the nearest town to find work or a free ride, or maybe a little of both.
SAMPLES-
Third Person (roleplay): "No, no, no, that's the wrong ammo," she replied, frustrated with this salesman who didn't know an elephant gun from a bazooka. "Where the hell did you learn about weapons, you tosser, your granny? You wouldn't know good work if it shot your bloody head off. Now this," she replied with evident satisfaction, caressing a box of lludicrously-sized shells as though they were her children, "is the stuff you want for that weapon there. You need something that's guaranteed to kill the elephant, not just knock his knees off."
Without another word to the startled and now nervous man behind the counter, she picked up the weapon in question to test it. "Blank?" she demanded, holding out her free hand and motioning with it emphatically. One was hesitantly placed in her hand, and she loaded the outsized gun, hauling it out to the makeshift shooting range behind the shop as its owner trailed a healthy distance behind her.
Tank Girl squinted down the sight, aiming in the direction of the bullseye that had been set up for such purposes, and pulled the trigger. A cloud of smoke issued from the barrel of the elephant gun as the ammunition was fired, and when the smoke cleared, a large hole could clearly be seen through the center of the target. As for the marksman herself, the force of the firing had knocked her back against the wall, and she sat on the ground, a contented but dazed look on her soot-covered face. "You see? Now that's what you can do with the proper equipment," she sighed happily.
First Person (journal): Still the "new girl". I hate being the "new girl", 'cause everyone thinks you're supposed to be nice to 'em or something. This isn't a trip to Boston in the fall, for God's sake. No picnic, this. That's why I like it. It's not boring yet.