App for Siren's Pull
Player Information
Name: Rama
Age: 20
AIM SN: r4mapi
email: k1tsun3_bee@yahoo.com
Have you played in an LJ based game before? Yep! I’m active with a few characters over in paradisa
Currently Played Characters: None
Conditional: Activity Check Link: N/A
Character Information
General
Canon Source: DC Comics
Canon Format: Comics
Character's Name: Charles Victor ‘Vic Sage’ Szasz / The Question
Character's Age: Early to mid 40s, appears to be in his 30s because… he just got good genes I guess...
What form will your character's NV take? A fairly simplistic, probably outdated looking slider phone with a full keyboard
Abilities
Character's Canon Abilities: He’s been trained in Dragon Style martial arts, and is quite agile and flexible. He’s also something of a master of disguise, with the ability to make himself look like anyone given enough time and the right supplies.
As for supernatural canon abilities? Let me just start this by saying: Charlie's history is one of the most convoluted, twisted piles of comic writer fail I have ever encountered. He is written differently, with different abilities every time someone new picks him up, so to figure out something coherent on this particular subject, I've had to apply a bit of headcanon superglue to vaguely established canon facts. BLUH I SHOULD ACTUALLY RESERVE BEFORE I TRY THIS AGAIN FFFFFFF
Conditional: If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them? SO… UH… basically the Core will give him the ability to become anonymous. As long as he’s focusing on it, it’ll be like there’s a low level perception filter around him. Cameras and tape recorders won’t pick him up. Any sound he makes will be dampened or completely muted. People will see him but they won’t think about who he is or why he’s there even when he… really shouldn’t be there at all.
Of course, if he starts making a spectacle of himself, people will still notice him. Doesn’t matter how much your head is saying to just look away and move on when there’s some guy you’ve never seen doing jumping jacks in the lobby of your office building :|b And also, particularly when he’s just beginning to get a feel for it, if his focus falters very much at all, the effect will collapse. Here’s hoping that never happens in a ~dire situation~ right? B)
Weapons: None. He’s a hand-to-hand kinda guy
History/Personality/Plans/etc.
Character History: Here!
Point in Canon: Week 38 during 52, just before dying
Character Personality: For all his tangled history and inconsistent treatment by writers, Charlie comes down to two things: anger and curiosity. The two work in constant conflict with each other, ebbing and flowing across the years of his life. As a young orphaned boy, he was dominated by the former, punching his way through every conflict he encountered. He was a delinquent in every sense of the word, and it took nearly dying to finally wake him up to the other, far more important aspect of his personality.
Nowadays, Charlie is curious. Hungrily, desperately curious. He is driven by it, pushed to seek out the answers to all his questions, forced to pick apart the psyches of the people he encounters. To him, life is for the observing. He acts on it only when he must, only when he sees wasted potential. And even then, his methods are uncommon, pushing, challenging, a dryly sarcastic master for a new age of damaged children. He is there when they need him and, the moment they have found their own way, he is gone again. This attitude means he’s hard pressed to form meaningful real relationships with anyone. He is always one step away from slipping away forever, and he has been hurt too many times in the past to let himself get so close to anyone again.
That said, the man is sentimental at heart. He cares deeply not just for individual people, for those few he calls family, but everyone he comes across. It’s probably the reason he has been hurt so much before, the reason he is so hesitant to open up again. Truth is, every time he’s hurt like that - every time he loses someone he loves to corrupt cities or diseases or vengeance - he doesn’t cope well at all. He wrecks himself and builds everything up from scratch again. See, Charlie operates on a sense of identity that is tentative at best. People wonder what the Question is that the Question’s really asking? Simple.
Who are you? Who am I?
He can hide behind his curiosity and his endless questioning, but that doesn’t change the fact that underneath the easier façade, his thin ideas about who he is precisely are hanging by a frayed thread. That Question has driven him nearly insane more then once. Near the end of his life, he seems to have found a suitable answer, something to calm the constant fight to find himself, but even that is temporary at best. To answer a question with another question is to avoid the real answer after all. It requires further investigation, further deconstructing and reconstructing. Who is ‘Charlie’? Who is ‘Vic Sage’? Who is ‘The Question’?
And to be sure, the Question and Charlie are not the same man. Where Charlie is a roiling ball of conflict and questions and new scars healing over the old, and always always moving, never stopping, never pausing long enough to make more then passing acquaintance with the world, the Question is constant. And steady. And comfortable in his skin. He has nothing to escape - his face is long gone - and so his passing glance can become two, can become three and four, and find the spaces that Charlie missed. He is aloof, and quiet, but he knows how to ask the right questions, as opposed to just asking all of them and hoping to come across the one that fits. The Question is more like a force of nature then any real man. He calms Charlie’s anger and his curiosity, makes him something like a hero even if he’ll never be quite there. And in turn, Charlie makes the Question human. They cannot have one without the other, no matter how many times Charlie has tried to purge his faceless alter-ego from himself.
There are, of course, other, smaller details. The man is a bit of a peacock, favoring neat suits and silk ties to anything cheap or ill-fitted. He likes his home neat. Under pressure, he can fall to pieces or rise to greet the challenge like a true hero. He doesn’t like guns, but underneath that is a bloodlust that disturbs him deeply every time it rises to the forefront of his mind. And most importantly, he is almost perpetually teasing, poking fun, smirking about something he knows but you don’t. He is charismatic, and gets along with people, talking about himself without ever revealing too much. After all, at the end of the day he will slip away to the next city, the next question. He really wishes you wouldn’t get so damned attached to him. It makes his job so much harder…
Character Plans: Mostly I figure he can be something of a bug in the machine, something to gum up the works on both sides. It’d be interesting to set him up as a double agent who’s really out for himself, trying to clean up both sides’ less uh… kosher practices in the meantime. Basically, I just want him to get up in everyone’s business the way he does best :3
Appearance/PB: Here however his appearance over the years is rather remarkably inconsistent… There’s also icons here!.
Writing Samples
First Person Sample [At first there’s just the sound of heavy, nervous breathing, the shifting of limbs and cloth and debris. After a moment, that fades and there’s just a long silence except for the scrabbling of claws. The next breath is calmer though its owner is obviously still wheezing faintly]
At the risk of sounding obtuse… does this mean the nuns were right? I’m honestly not sure what’s worse, not being able to breathe, or having to run for my life. [He lets that hang in the air as he shifts again] I suppose the second if only because I don’t know-- [He’s cut off by a bang and the crunching of wood and his own faint, startled squeak]
Because I don’t know how long this’ll last… Christ, is there anyone there? What the hell is going on? Am I just… talking to myself? Who knows… maybe I am in hell…
[And with that rather bitter note, there’s a frustrated grumble and the NV is pocketed though not shut off and it records the muffled pound of feet as he begins running again]
Third Person Sample There is a dollop of yellow paint on his sleeve.
He has never been a fan of the color yellow, the Question’s occasional orange-y collared shirt notwithstanding. This project is more an effort of boredom. It’s not as if the tiny rundown apartment couldn’t do with a coat of paint, and he figured yellow might at least not look quite so dreary after the sirens went off. But now it’s on his sleeve, and he does rather like this shirt, even if it’s a little cheaper and little more poorly constructed then some of his others. It had seemed like the perfect painting shirt until now. Now he can see the stain, and even as he wipes the yellow off on his only pair of old, ratty jeans, he knows it’s forever doomed to be a Painting Shirt now.
“Figures…” It’s a silly thing to regret, he knows. Still, he has always treated a hand unsteady enough to splash paint onto a good shirt, like one that needs a break. The room is getting stuffy, and looking around, he realizes he’s going to need a less ridiculous shade of yellow if he hopes to actually live here in the future.
Taking a quick glance out the window, there’s still a few hours of sunlight left. He can make it the few blocks down to the hardware store and back before everything shuts down. Certainly.
Probably…
Well… if nothing else, a full can of paint will make a good bludgeoning tool once the darkness falls and the monsters come out.
His long coat slides easily into place, and the fedora follows closely afterward. Half-self-conscious, half-thoughtfully, he pulls the edge of his coat sleeve down to cover the yellow stain, smiling at himself. In this light, the chances of anyone noticing it are slim to none, but it still feels like a necessary precaution. Can’t have his image being sullied so soon after arriving in a new city after all.
As always he has to fight the door open, and as always he makes a note to talk to the landlord even if he knows he’ll forget by the time he gets back. The hinges scream, and there is the inevitable bang from the old miserly man who lives below him, and again as he slams his shoulder into the old wood to get it to fit into place.
He doesn’t bother locking up. He has nothing worth stealing at the moment besides a half empty bucket of yellow paint. And besides, as Hub City had taught him all those years ago, it didn’t matter what kind of locks he placed on his door. The desperate folks would always always find a way in. For now, he has more to be concerned with in the long trek to the store and back, and the way the light is slowly, slowly darkening in the corner of the window.
Name: Rama
Age: 20
AIM SN: r4mapi
email: k1tsun3_bee@yahoo.com
Have you played in an LJ based game before? Yep! I’m active with a few characters over in paradisa
Currently Played Characters: None
Conditional: Activity Check Link: N/A
Character Information
General
Canon Source: DC Comics
Canon Format: Comics
Character's Name: Charles Victor ‘Vic Sage’ Szasz / The Question
Character's Age: Early to mid 40s, appears to be in his 30s because… he just got good genes I guess...
What form will your character's NV take? A fairly simplistic, probably outdated looking slider phone with a full keyboard
Abilities
Character's Canon Abilities: He’s been trained in Dragon Style martial arts, and is quite agile and flexible. He’s also something of a master of disguise, with the ability to make himself look like anyone given enough time and the right supplies.
As for supernatural canon abilities? Let me just start this by saying: Charlie's history is one of the most convoluted, twisted piles of comic writer fail I have ever encountered. He is written differently, with different abilities every time someone new picks him up, so to figure out something coherent on this particular subject, I've had to apply a bit of headcanon superglue to vaguely established canon facts. BLUH I SHOULD ACTUALLY RESERVE BEFORE I TRY THIS AGAIN FFFFFFF
Conditional: If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them? SO… UH… basically the Core will give him the ability to become anonymous. As long as he’s focusing on it, it’ll be like there’s a low level perception filter around him. Cameras and tape recorders won’t pick him up. Any sound he makes will be dampened or completely muted. People will see him but they won’t think about who he is or why he’s there even when he… really shouldn’t be there at all.
Of course, if he starts making a spectacle of himself, people will still notice him. Doesn’t matter how much your head is saying to just look away and move on when there’s some guy you’ve never seen doing jumping jacks in the lobby of your office building :|b And also, particularly when he’s just beginning to get a feel for it, if his focus falters very much at all, the effect will collapse. Here’s hoping that never happens in a ~dire situation~ right? B)
Weapons: None. He’s a hand-to-hand kinda guy
History/Personality/Plans/etc.
Character History: Here!
Point in Canon: Week 38 during 52, just before dying
Character Personality: For all his tangled history and inconsistent treatment by writers, Charlie comes down to two things: anger and curiosity. The two work in constant conflict with each other, ebbing and flowing across the years of his life. As a young orphaned boy, he was dominated by the former, punching his way through every conflict he encountered. He was a delinquent in every sense of the word, and it took nearly dying to finally wake him up to the other, far more important aspect of his personality.
Nowadays, Charlie is curious. Hungrily, desperately curious. He is driven by it, pushed to seek out the answers to all his questions, forced to pick apart the psyches of the people he encounters. To him, life is for the observing. He acts on it only when he must, only when he sees wasted potential. And even then, his methods are uncommon, pushing, challenging, a dryly sarcastic master for a new age of damaged children. He is there when they need him and, the moment they have found their own way, he is gone again. This attitude means he’s hard pressed to form meaningful real relationships with anyone. He is always one step away from slipping away forever, and he has been hurt too many times in the past to let himself get so close to anyone again.
That said, the man is sentimental at heart. He cares deeply not just for individual people, for those few he calls family, but everyone he comes across. It’s probably the reason he has been hurt so much before, the reason he is so hesitant to open up again. Truth is, every time he’s hurt like that - every time he loses someone he loves to corrupt cities or diseases or vengeance - he doesn’t cope well at all. He wrecks himself and builds everything up from scratch again. See, Charlie operates on a sense of identity that is tentative at best. People wonder what the Question is that the Question’s really asking? Simple.
Who are you? Who am I?
He can hide behind his curiosity and his endless questioning, but that doesn’t change the fact that underneath the easier façade, his thin ideas about who he is precisely are hanging by a frayed thread. That Question has driven him nearly insane more then once. Near the end of his life, he seems to have found a suitable answer, something to calm the constant fight to find himself, but even that is temporary at best. To answer a question with another question is to avoid the real answer after all. It requires further investigation, further deconstructing and reconstructing. Who is ‘Charlie’? Who is ‘Vic Sage’? Who is ‘The Question’?
And to be sure, the Question and Charlie are not the same man. Where Charlie is a roiling ball of conflict and questions and new scars healing over the old, and always always moving, never stopping, never pausing long enough to make more then passing acquaintance with the world, the Question is constant. And steady. And comfortable in his skin. He has nothing to escape - his face is long gone - and so his passing glance can become two, can become three and four, and find the spaces that Charlie missed. He is aloof, and quiet, but he knows how to ask the right questions, as opposed to just asking all of them and hoping to come across the one that fits. The Question is more like a force of nature then any real man. He calms Charlie’s anger and his curiosity, makes him something like a hero even if he’ll never be quite there. And in turn, Charlie makes the Question human. They cannot have one without the other, no matter how many times Charlie has tried to purge his faceless alter-ego from himself.
There are, of course, other, smaller details. The man is a bit of a peacock, favoring neat suits and silk ties to anything cheap or ill-fitted. He likes his home neat. Under pressure, he can fall to pieces or rise to greet the challenge like a true hero. He doesn’t like guns, but underneath that is a bloodlust that disturbs him deeply every time it rises to the forefront of his mind. And most importantly, he is almost perpetually teasing, poking fun, smirking about something he knows but you don’t. He is charismatic, and gets along with people, talking about himself without ever revealing too much. After all, at the end of the day he will slip away to the next city, the next question. He really wishes you wouldn’t get so damned attached to him. It makes his job so much harder…
Character Plans: Mostly I figure he can be something of a bug in the machine, something to gum up the works on both sides. It’d be interesting to set him up as a double agent who’s really out for himself, trying to clean up both sides’ less uh… kosher practices in the meantime. Basically, I just want him to get up in everyone’s business the way he does best :3
Appearance/PB: Here however his appearance over the years is rather remarkably inconsistent… There’s also icons here!.
Writing Samples
First Person Sample [At first there’s just the sound of heavy, nervous breathing, the shifting of limbs and cloth and debris. After a moment, that fades and there’s just a long silence except for the scrabbling of claws. The next breath is calmer though its owner is obviously still wheezing faintly]
At the risk of sounding obtuse… does this mean the nuns were right? I’m honestly not sure what’s worse, not being able to breathe, or having to run for my life. [He lets that hang in the air as he shifts again] I suppose the second if only because I don’t know-- [He’s cut off by a bang and the crunching of wood and his own faint, startled squeak]
Because I don’t know how long this’ll last… Christ, is there anyone there? What the hell is going on? Am I just… talking to myself? Who knows… maybe I am in hell…
[And with that rather bitter note, there’s a frustrated grumble and the NV is pocketed though not shut off and it records the muffled pound of feet as he begins running again]
Third Person Sample There is a dollop of yellow paint on his sleeve.
He has never been a fan of the color yellow, the Question’s occasional orange-y collared shirt notwithstanding. This project is more an effort of boredom. It’s not as if the tiny rundown apartment couldn’t do with a coat of paint, and he figured yellow might at least not look quite so dreary after the sirens went off. But now it’s on his sleeve, and he does rather like this shirt, even if it’s a little cheaper and little more poorly constructed then some of his others. It had seemed like the perfect painting shirt until now. Now he can see the stain, and even as he wipes the yellow off on his only pair of old, ratty jeans, he knows it’s forever doomed to be a Painting Shirt now.
“Figures…” It’s a silly thing to regret, he knows. Still, he has always treated a hand unsteady enough to splash paint onto a good shirt, like one that needs a break. The room is getting stuffy, and looking around, he realizes he’s going to need a less ridiculous shade of yellow if he hopes to actually live here in the future.
Taking a quick glance out the window, there’s still a few hours of sunlight left. He can make it the few blocks down to the hardware store and back before everything shuts down. Certainly.
Probably…
Well… if nothing else, a full can of paint will make a good bludgeoning tool once the darkness falls and the monsters come out.
His long coat slides easily into place, and the fedora follows closely afterward. Half-self-conscious, half-thoughtfully, he pulls the edge of his coat sleeve down to cover the yellow stain, smiling at himself. In this light, the chances of anyone noticing it are slim to none, but it still feels like a necessary precaution. Can’t have his image being sullied so soon after arriving in a new city after all.
As always he has to fight the door open, and as always he makes a note to talk to the landlord even if he knows he’ll forget by the time he gets back. The hinges scream, and there is the inevitable bang from the old miserly man who lives below him, and again as he slams his shoulder into the old wood to get it to fit into place.
He doesn’t bother locking up. He has nothing worth stealing at the moment besides a half empty bucket of yellow paint. And besides, as Hub City had taught him all those years ago, it didn’t matter what kind of locks he placed on his door. The desperate folks would always always find a way in. For now, he has more to be concerned with in the long trek to the store and back, and the way the light is slowly, slowly darkening in the corner of the window.