(no subject)
Player Information ;
Your Nickname: Roy
OOC Journal: royali
Under 18? Nyet!
Email/IM: royalia at Hotmail dot com || vonnerdyce at AIM.
Characters Played at Singularity: NONE HOLY SHIT SON GET IN THE VAN TOTAL NEWBIE HERE.
Character Information ;
Name: Thom-293 (No rank canonically given, assuming Lieutenant for lulz and the thought that filling the command gap could be a possible factor in Current!Noble!Six's reassignment to Noble Team)
Name of Canon: Halo Universe And Assorted Other Shit. If you wanted to get super specific, he really only shows up in The Deliver Hope live action trailer, the precursor to Halo: Reach.
Canon/AU/Other Game CR: Canon, broski. AS LITTLE AS EXISTS.
Reference: Here there be wikia.
Canon Point: Post-death.
Setting: HALOVERSE. Once upon a time, humanity did not eat all their veggies, and to punish them, some wind of divine providence decided to dump a hostile alien species in their lap. Most of the Haloverse, excepting semi-canonical shorts, takes place in the 26th century, and focuses on the ensuing war.
Said war has been long, brutal, and has pushed humanity to the closest thing to ‘extinction’ that they’ve ever known. No longer the Masters of the Their Own Little Universe, most humans of this day and age live with the constant threat of a Covvie energy sword hanging above their heads.
ONLY ONE THING STANDS BETWEEN THEM AND THE DARKNESS. A really bright flashli--
SPARTANS
Spartans are genetically augmented supersoldiers, kidnapped or conscripted as children to serve the Greater Good, no matter how many of them are maimed, killed, brutally traumatized or blown up in the process. As with all good supersoldiers, they are STRONG and SWIFT and BRAVE and - all that other shit. And they happen to be very, very good at killing Covenant.
However, the Covenant also happen to be very, very good at killing them. And unfortunately, the Covvies have greater numbers, firepower, weapons... everything that, when tossed in a blender, tends to make puree out of a ‘hopeless situation’.
Still, on they fight, so that they can be as ironically close to their namesakes (the actual denizens of Sparta) as possible. And in the meantime, they are in fact more badass than you.
Personality: Most of this is conjecture and hearsay, given the fact that Thom canonically has no lines. HOWEVER that said, there are several things we can infer. Thom is canonically described as being ‘cowboy-like’, which in and of itself tends to carry several connotations along with it. Cowboys are generally thought to have that vague, laconical attitude that alternately gets them into trouble and sees them woo any number of pretty ladies, HOLLA.
Also, considering the impact that his death had on the rest of Noble Team (canon cite: 'You're stepping into shoes the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled'), it’s probably a safe bet to say his personality is a memorable one, if compounded by a certain recklessness. By what we know from the Deliver Hope trailer, and the Noble Team Performance Reports, Thom’s death was the result of total disregard for many of the ingrained traits of a Spartan III (ie: TEAMWORK, MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT) and more than a little stupidity. When presented with two options: GIVE THE COVENANT BACK THEIR BOMB or WAIT FOR FUCKING BACKUP, most team players would choose option B, but Thom got it in his head that he needed to Lone Wolf himself right to a stupid and more or less pointless death. Derp.
But, you say! How are you planning on playing this character with a grand total of five seconds (a slight hyperbole) of screentime! HOW DO WE KNOW THIS IS NOT PART OF SOME NEFARIOUS PLOT TO GAIN OUR TRUST SO YOU CAN KILL US ALL IN OUR SLEEP?
And to that I say - well, you don’t rightly know. But I’ll give you a brief summary on My View Of Thom, as it were.
Though I try to stay within the parameters of what canon has provided for us, as noted it’s not much, so a lot of headcanon does come into play. I figure Thom as being pretty laid-back, friendly, gregarious, and a bit of a joker when the situation calls for it - the sort of guy it’s easy to get attached to, and easier to mourn. If confronted with a tense moment (Emile and Jorge ARE YOU BUTTING HEADS AGAIN) he's more likely to interject with some sort of self-deprecating quip ('Come on guys, I haven't even had breakfast yet') than he is to pull rank. Top it off with the tendency to be a bit hot under the collar, a helping of macho bravura, add a maraschino cherry of badassery and c’est voila, you’ve got yourself one cowboy of Spartanation.
As a rifleman, one can also hedge the assumption that Thom is at least capable of operating with a cool hand - from a distance. When there's nothing but a scope and reticle between he and whatever he's punching holes in, life is good. Damn near zen, in fact. It's when you thrust him into immediate, action-reaction combat that he starts taking way more risks than he should. Call it an invincibility complex, if you will - a slight buying-into of the Spartan mythos, on an entirely subconscious level. He's all too aware of their mortality, but hey. Sometimes it slips the mind.
I also believe he tends to be protective of his teammates, verging on irrationality. Sure, they're all big and strong and fully capable of taking care of themselves but they're his family, damnit, and he will put himself between them and anything that's threatening them.
While not exactly an optimist, he does attempt to make the best of a bad situation. No maudlin tendencies here, bro! (canon cite: the fact that he chose to turn and run from the nuke he'd just lobbed into Covvie territory leads me to believe he had some hope of surviving it, even if logic told him otherwise)
If you ignore the vaguely WE ARE THE BORG like qualities of the Spartan IIs (that being, very few seem to have retained much to their personalities beyond: we are soldiers, hear us fuck shit up), the IIIs by comparison are practically a wellspring of attitude. It's my belief that the slightly less regimented training of the IIIs is responsible for this sudden and alarming diversity, and Thom is undoubtedly a result of that.
Abilities and Weaknesses: If Spartans were available for purchase at your local supermarket, this is what their label might say: THOM-293 (expires on: 03/22/2552). Caloric Intake: you don't even want to know.
Anyways, here goes.
Spartan IIIs, though not nearly as resilient or badass as their predecessors, can still open a can of whoop-ass on anything that gives them a dirty look. They're stronger, faster, better (harder) than anything the human race has ever produced before. Genetic augmentations have leveled up their bone density, their reflexes, their hearing and vision. Lifelong training has drilled the words of Sun Tzu, Miyamoto Musashi, Machiavelli, et al, into their very being. Leonidas himself would probably claw his way out of the ground at Thermopylae to clap each of them appreciatively on the back and say 'Son, I am not disappoint'.
That said, they're not without their imperfections. Despite the fact that their training and augmentations have pushed the envelope beyond the norm, they are at their core still human. They can be killed, they can be tricked. (Though not, generally, in that order) Thom is very much not an exception to any of these rules. You cut him; he bleeds the same as everyone else.
Thom's specific abilities lie in the realm of marksmanship. Riflemen aren't designated as such without due cause, so one can assume, while he's not on par with Jun, he's at least a crack shot. He can also pilot a mean jetpack.
Physical weaknesses... well. He has to duck through doorways. :|
Inventory:
- Mjolnir Mark V armour
- Combat knife.
- Jetpack! Restricted to ten seconds of upward thrust, and subject to the customary recharge rate.
- One personal sidearm (the magnum, no magazines remaining)
- One MA-37 assault rifle (one magazine remaining)
- A TACTICAL NUKE no I’m just kidding.
Appearance: A fairly typical example of a Spartan, Thom has one thing on his side and that thing is huge. He’s probably somewhere between 6’9 and 6’11, as that seems to be the average height for a male Spartan III. One assumes he’s pale, as time spent entombed in the Mark V armour more or less facilitates it. Early concept art, from the days when he was being considered as a more major player in Halo: Reach, shows that he bears a remarkable resemblance to one of the co-founders of Bungie. Conspiracy theory, or conspiracy theory...
With that in mind, he’s got short, brunette-ish hair and one of those perpetual smirks you usually find on frat boys and UFC cage fighters.
Age: There is a hamster spinning in my Den of Questionable headcanon that’s telling me he’s about 24-25, putting him to the slightly older side of the Beta Company Spartans. (I’m choosing Beta rather than Alpha for several reasons, least of which is the deliciously delightful parallel it drives home between Thom and Current!Noble!Six, it would help to explain how he as a character relates to Kat, though I'm not of the opinion that they had any significant contact prior to Thom's assignment to Noble Team, there's so few Beta kids left that he's bound to be more protective of her.)
OC/AU Justification ;
If AU, How is Your Version Different From Canon, and How Will That Come Across?
If OC, Did You Run Your Character Through a Mary-Sue Litmus Test?There is no passing a Litmus test when one plays a Spartan. Gandalf is standing there like a bitch with his staff making sure of it, bro.
And What Did You Score?
Samples ;
Log Sample:
The package wasn’t supposed to feel heavy. Hell, nothing short of a Scorpion tank was supposed to much hinder a Spartan, but damned if the thing - a bloody pocket nuke - didn’t weigh him down some. Maybe his life was supposed to be flashing in front of his eyes, but he’d gotten his wires crossed somewhere and all he could tune into was the sensation of being a pack mule. Much less chance to pinpoint where it’d all gone wrong. He liked that. No regrets brought into stark relief against the backdrop of his life.
They were losing this war. He didn’t need Kat’s skills with hyper-computation to figure it out. New reports came in by the hour. The number of UNSC dead crawled into the thousands, the tens of thousands. Spartans were flagged with little MIA notifications at a rate he found damn near unsettling, and this from one who knew better than to expect the invincibility their mythos made every attempt to perpetuate. Halcyon-class ships were left to dust planetary stratospheres; debris clotted the black where colonies used to be.
Thom wasn’t a pessimist. Didn’t have it in him, not when it was the province of so many of his brethren. But he wasn’t stupid, either. You couldn’t grow up a Spartan without having a heavy dose of reality knocking at your door, and reality had two words for him: you’re screwed.
It didn’t even have the decency to distinguish between the general ‘you’re’ and the personal one. But he could guess, the same way he could deduce that the nuke he was carrying wasn’t actually on par with a fully armoured assault vehicle, but an easy sixty kilos, that the extra weight was the futility of humanity's situation, superimposed.
Pissing in the wind. That’s all this was. They could throw Spartans with tactical nukes at the Covenant all day long, but the math of the matter didn’t lie.
One CCS-class Battlecruiser was all it would take - all it took - to wipe out a city. Sometimes it was all it took to glass a planet.
There were so many of them. Thousands, swarming like insects below where he stood. Less than a fraction of the full strength of the Covenant. To them, the numbers would be an inconsequential loss, a sacrificial grunt on the altar of self-applied plasma grenades.
He thought of Kat, helmet cracked, vitals a frantic flutter.
There was a moment’s pause, peace, before he flung the nuke into the open air. Each victory the UNSC dragged kicking and screaming from the Covenant came on the heels of a sacrifice of their own.
Yeah, well. He could accept that for what currency it would win in exchange. Hope.
Network Sample:
[Elysium this is not. Not enough Covenant to be Hell - on the heels of the nuclear blast he'd really rather not remember, he could have expected such a place to be damn near crowded by them.
Systems diagnostics, when coaxed, hold green. His HUD has the decency to let him know he's still got a pulse. It's with a sense of growing incredulity that he pats a hand against his chest plate, runs the other against the back of his helmet, feels the pressure of energy shielding that should have been shorted out by the detonation.
There was no way he could have been knocked free of the blast. He's been unconscious before and what enveloped him in his last moments was not the gracious black he's come to associate with a lapse thereof.
He feels suddenly, abruptly uncomfortable in his own skin. Call it whatever you want - the feeling someone's just walked over his grave or the unholy heebie-jeebies, but he is Not Okay with this. Had he failed? After all the trouble he went to just to make his peace with the whole dying thing? He's as fond of irony as the next guy, but really?
Or maybe he's still in the process of dying, and this is all a pleasant (if odd - Sacrosanct? He doubts he could even use that word in a goddamned sentence) hallucination conjured by his brain to grease the wheels of fatally firing synapses.
... Actually, on second thought, he'll take the 'failure' option. Even if it means he's landed somewhere he's never seen or heard of in any extensive consideration of UNSC territory.
It's this consideration that sees him tap one hand against the side of his helmet to clear any lingering splashback from the EMP, and log into the available channel.]
This is UNSC Lieutenant Sierra-293, flagging for -
[What, exactly? An explanation? 'Take me to your leader and tell me why I'm still breathing'? Yeah, that'll go over with the locals real well. If there are any locals to be had.]
- Exfil.
[Strong start, weak finish. He'll give it a six out of ten. Though his tone has the controlled, rigid qualities of your average Spartan under stress, there's a mild undercurrent of utter bemusement there, detectable to those that know him best.]
Your Nickname: Roy
OOC Journal: royali
Under 18? Nyet!
Email/IM: royalia at Hotmail dot com || vonnerdyce at AIM.
Characters Played at Singularity: NONE HOLY SHIT SON GET IN THE VAN TOTAL NEWBIE HERE.
Character Information ;
Name: Thom-293 (No rank canonically given, assuming Lieutenant for lulz and the thought that filling the command gap could be a possible factor in Current!Noble!Six's reassignment to Noble Team)
Name of Canon: Halo Universe And Assorted Other Shit. If you wanted to get super specific, he really only shows up in The Deliver Hope live action trailer, the precursor to Halo: Reach.
Canon/AU/Other Game CR: Canon, broski. AS LITTLE AS EXISTS.
Reference: Here there be wikia.
Canon Point: Post-death.
Setting: HALOVERSE. Once upon a time, humanity did not eat all their veggies, and to punish them, some wind of divine providence decided to dump a hostile alien species in their lap. Most of the Haloverse, excepting semi-canonical shorts, takes place in the 26th century, and focuses on the ensuing war.
Said war has been long, brutal, and has pushed humanity to the closest thing to ‘extinction’ that they’ve ever known. No longer the Masters of the Their Own Little Universe, most humans of this day and age live with the constant threat of a Covvie energy sword hanging above their heads.
ONLY ONE THING STANDS BETWEEN THEM AND THE DARKNESS. A really bright flashli--
SPARTANS
Spartans are genetically augmented supersoldiers, kidnapped or conscripted as children to serve the Greater Good, no matter how many of them are maimed, killed, brutally traumatized or blown up in the process. As with all good supersoldiers, they are STRONG and SWIFT and BRAVE and - all that other shit. And they happen to be very, very good at killing Covenant.
However, the Covenant also happen to be very, very good at killing them. And unfortunately, the Covvies have greater numbers, firepower, weapons... everything that, when tossed in a blender, tends to make puree out of a ‘hopeless situation’.
Still, on they fight, so that they can be as ironically close to their namesakes (the actual denizens of Sparta) as possible. And in the meantime, they are in fact more badass than you.
Personality: Most of this is conjecture and hearsay, given the fact that Thom canonically has no lines. HOWEVER that said, there are several things we can infer. Thom is canonically described as being ‘cowboy-like’, which in and of itself tends to carry several connotations along with it. Cowboys are generally thought to have that vague, laconical attitude that alternately gets them into trouble and sees them woo any number of pretty ladies, HOLLA.
Also, considering the impact that his death had on the rest of Noble Team (canon cite: 'You're stepping into shoes the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled'), it’s probably a safe bet to say his personality is a memorable one, if compounded by a certain recklessness. By what we know from the Deliver Hope trailer, and the Noble Team Performance Reports, Thom’s death was the result of total disregard for many of the ingrained traits of a Spartan III (ie: TEAMWORK, MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT) and more than a little stupidity. When presented with two options: GIVE THE COVENANT BACK THEIR BOMB or WAIT FOR FUCKING BACKUP, most team players would choose option B, but Thom got it in his head that he needed to Lone Wolf himself right to a stupid and more or less pointless death. Derp.
But, you say! How are you planning on playing this character with a grand total of five seconds (a slight hyperbole) of screentime! HOW DO WE KNOW THIS IS NOT PART OF SOME NEFARIOUS PLOT TO GAIN OUR TRUST SO YOU CAN KILL US ALL IN OUR SLEEP?
And to that I say - well, you don’t rightly know. But I’ll give you a brief summary on My View Of Thom, as it were.
Though I try to stay within the parameters of what canon has provided for us, as noted it’s not much, so a lot of headcanon does come into play. I figure Thom as being pretty laid-back, friendly, gregarious, and a bit of a joker when the situation calls for it - the sort of guy it’s easy to get attached to, and easier to mourn. If confronted with a tense moment (Emile and Jorge ARE YOU BUTTING HEADS AGAIN) he's more likely to interject with some sort of self-deprecating quip ('Come on guys, I haven't even had breakfast yet') than he is to pull rank. Top it off with the tendency to be a bit hot under the collar, a helping of macho bravura, add a maraschino cherry of badassery and c’est voila, you’ve got yourself one cowboy of Spartanation.
As a rifleman, one can also hedge the assumption that Thom is at least capable of operating with a cool hand - from a distance. When there's nothing but a scope and reticle between he and whatever he's punching holes in, life is good. Damn near zen, in fact. It's when you thrust him into immediate, action-reaction combat that he starts taking way more risks than he should. Call it an invincibility complex, if you will - a slight buying-into of the Spartan mythos, on an entirely subconscious level. He's all too aware of their mortality, but hey. Sometimes it slips the mind.
I also believe he tends to be protective of his teammates, verging on irrationality. Sure, they're all big and strong and fully capable of taking care of themselves but they're his family, damnit, and he will put himself between them and anything that's threatening them.
While not exactly an optimist, he does attempt to make the best of a bad situation. No maudlin tendencies here, bro! (canon cite: the fact that he chose to turn and run from the nuke he'd just lobbed into Covvie territory leads me to believe he had some hope of surviving it, even if logic told him otherwise)
If you ignore the vaguely WE ARE THE BORG like qualities of the Spartan IIs (that being, very few seem to have retained much to their personalities beyond: we are soldiers, hear us fuck shit up), the IIIs by comparison are practically a wellspring of attitude. It's my belief that the slightly less regimented training of the IIIs is responsible for this sudden and alarming diversity, and Thom is undoubtedly a result of that.
Abilities and Weaknesses: If Spartans were available for purchase at your local supermarket, this is what their label might say: THOM-293 (expires on: 03/22/2552). Caloric Intake: you don't even want to know.
Anyways, here goes.
Spartan IIIs, though not nearly as resilient or badass as their predecessors, can still open a can of whoop-ass on anything that gives them a dirty look. They're stronger, faster, better (harder) than anything the human race has ever produced before. Genetic augmentations have leveled up their bone density, their reflexes, their hearing and vision. Lifelong training has drilled the words of Sun Tzu, Miyamoto Musashi, Machiavelli, et al, into their very being. Leonidas himself would probably claw his way out of the ground at Thermopylae to clap each of them appreciatively on the back and say 'Son, I am not disappoint'.
That said, they're not without their imperfections. Despite the fact that their training and augmentations have pushed the envelope beyond the norm, they are at their core still human. They can be killed, they can be tricked. (Though not, generally, in that order) Thom is very much not an exception to any of these rules. You cut him; he bleeds the same as everyone else.
Thom's specific abilities lie in the realm of marksmanship. Riflemen aren't designated as such without due cause, so one can assume, while he's not on par with Jun, he's at least a crack shot. He can also pilot a mean jetpack.
Physical weaknesses... well. He has to duck through doorways. :|
Inventory:
- Mjolnir Mark V armour
- Combat knife.
- Jetpack! Restricted to ten seconds of upward thrust, and subject to the customary recharge rate.
- One personal sidearm (the magnum, no magazines remaining)
- One MA-37 assault rifle (one magazine remaining)
- A TACTICAL NUKE no I’m just kidding.
Appearance: A fairly typical example of a Spartan, Thom has one thing on his side and that thing is huge. He’s probably somewhere between 6’9 and 6’11, as that seems to be the average height for a male Spartan III. One assumes he’s pale, as time spent entombed in the Mark V armour more or less facilitates it. Early concept art, from the days when he was being considered as a more major player in Halo: Reach, shows that he bears a remarkable resemblance to one of the co-founders of Bungie. Conspiracy theory, or conspiracy theory...
With that in mind, he’s got short, brunette-ish hair and one of those perpetual smirks you usually find on frat boys and UFC cage fighters.
Age: There is a hamster spinning in my Den of Questionable headcanon that’s telling me he’s about 24-25, putting him to the slightly older side of the Beta Company Spartans. (I’m choosing Beta rather than Alpha for several reasons, least of which is the deliciously delightful parallel it drives home between Thom and Current!Noble!Six, it would help to explain how he as a character relates to Kat, though I'm not of the opinion that they had any significant contact prior to Thom's assignment to Noble Team, there's so few Beta kids left that he's bound to be more protective of her.)
OC/AU Justification ;
If AU, How is Your Version Different From Canon, and How Will That Come Across?
If OC, Did You Run Your Character Through a Mary-Sue Litmus Test?There is no passing a Litmus test when one plays a Spartan. Gandalf is standing there like a bitch with his staff making sure of it, bro.
And What Did You Score?
Samples ;
Log Sample:
The package wasn’t supposed to feel heavy. Hell, nothing short of a Scorpion tank was supposed to much hinder a Spartan, but damned if the thing - a bloody pocket nuke - didn’t weigh him down some. Maybe his life was supposed to be flashing in front of his eyes, but he’d gotten his wires crossed somewhere and all he could tune into was the sensation of being a pack mule. Much less chance to pinpoint where it’d all gone wrong. He liked that. No regrets brought into stark relief against the backdrop of his life.
They were losing this war. He didn’t need Kat’s skills with hyper-computation to figure it out. New reports came in by the hour. The number of UNSC dead crawled into the thousands, the tens of thousands. Spartans were flagged with little MIA notifications at a rate he found damn near unsettling, and this from one who knew better than to expect the invincibility their mythos made every attempt to perpetuate. Halcyon-class ships were left to dust planetary stratospheres; debris clotted the black where colonies used to be.
Thom wasn’t a pessimist. Didn’t have it in him, not when it was the province of so many of his brethren. But he wasn’t stupid, either. You couldn’t grow up a Spartan without having a heavy dose of reality knocking at your door, and reality had two words for him: you’re screwed.
It didn’t even have the decency to distinguish between the general ‘you’re’ and the personal one. But he could guess, the same way he could deduce that the nuke he was carrying wasn’t actually on par with a fully armoured assault vehicle, but an easy sixty kilos, that the extra weight was the futility of humanity's situation, superimposed.
Pissing in the wind. That’s all this was. They could throw Spartans with tactical nukes at the Covenant all day long, but the math of the matter didn’t lie.
One CCS-class Battlecruiser was all it would take - all it took - to wipe out a city. Sometimes it was all it took to glass a planet.
There were so many of them. Thousands, swarming like insects below where he stood. Less than a fraction of the full strength of the Covenant. To them, the numbers would be an inconsequential loss, a sacrificial grunt on the altar of self-applied plasma grenades.
He thought of Kat, helmet cracked, vitals a frantic flutter.
There was a moment’s pause, peace, before he flung the nuke into the open air. Each victory the UNSC dragged kicking and screaming from the Covenant came on the heels of a sacrifice of their own.
Yeah, well. He could accept that for what currency it would win in exchange. Hope.
Network Sample:
[Elysium this is not. Not enough Covenant to be Hell - on the heels of the nuclear blast he'd really rather not remember, he could have expected such a place to be damn near crowded by them.
Systems diagnostics, when coaxed, hold green. His HUD has the decency to let him know he's still got a pulse. It's with a sense of growing incredulity that he pats a hand against his chest plate, runs the other against the back of his helmet, feels the pressure of energy shielding that should have been shorted out by the detonation.
There was no way he could have been knocked free of the blast. He's been unconscious before and what enveloped him in his last moments was not the gracious black he's come to associate with a lapse thereof.
He feels suddenly, abruptly uncomfortable in his own skin. Call it whatever you want - the feeling someone's just walked over his grave or the unholy heebie-jeebies, but he is Not Okay with this. Had he failed? After all the trouble he went to just to make his peace with the whole dying thing? He's as fond of irony as the next guy, but really?
Or maybe he's still in the process of dying, and this is all a pleasant (if odd - Sacrosanct? He doubts he could even use that word in a goddamned sentence) hallucination conjured by his brain to grease the wheels of fatally firing synapses.
... Actually, on second thought, he'll take the 'failure' option. Even if it means he's landed somewhere he's never seen or heard of in any extensive consideration of UNSC territory.
It's this consideration that sees him tap one hand against the side of his helmet to clear any lingering splashback from the EMP, and log into the available channel.]
This is UNSC Lieutenant Sierra-293, flagging for -
[What, exactly? An explanation? 'Take me to your leader and tell me why I'm still breathing'? Yeah, that'll go over with the locals real well. If there are any locals to be had.]
- Exfil.
[Strong start, weak finish. He'll give it a six out of ten. Though his tone has the controlled, rigid qualities of your average Spartan under stress, there's a mild undercurrent of utter bemusement there, detectable to those that know him best.]