COUNSELOR APPS ARE GO.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN BOYS AND GIRLS, HERE WE GO.
Counselor apps. These are special, vibrant apps. There are 25 slots to go up to vote. And. Uh. 68 applications. (69 is the magic number in the inbox including our ecard from you guys. D'aw.) Let me repeat, 25 slots, 68 applications.
That means 43 applications will be weeded.
And, uh, basically all of these are pretty fucking good. Like. Really. Good. Apps.
So here's what we're putting up today. (There was agonizing. Alcohol. Acetaminophen. Fudge brownies.)
A: Useful, active, creative, functional JOB.
B: No format errors.
C: Canons are not too long. Strikeout jokes aren't overused, image links aren't overpowering, the format is not overbearing - basically, things we know can get an app voted out all by themselves.
D: Funny, in-character, nicely creative camp introductio- oh wait more than fifty are like that. Refer to A-C.
E: Of note: Time of submission of the application absolutely does not matter.
HERE ARE THE FIRST FIVE COUNSELORS.
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me if I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
Now VOTE. Closed!
Character: Jayne Cobb
Series: Firefly/Serenity movie
Age: between 30 and 40
Job: Sensitivity Trainer
Canon: Jayne is, essentially, the muscle on Serenity’s
crew. He’s big. He’s tough. He likes guns. He has many guns, as well as
knives, grenades, and assorted other party favors. He names them, and
assigns sentimental value to them. He’s good at standing there and looking
scary. Yes, he’s an excellent man to have at your back--unless the money’s
better somewhere else. Then, there may be a conflict in interests, since
he’s also the mercenary. He’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed,
though he’s perfectly capable of snarking with the rest of the crew (I think
it’s a requirement: you must be at least this witty to board this ship), and
perfectly capable of making bad decisions while he’s looking out for number
one. He isn’t above having a few pangs of conscience about them, either.
His voice is strong, and very clearly “cowboy,” blunt, common and outer
world, without much patience for niceties.
Okay, everyone gather ‘round. This? This here is Vera. Vera is a Callahan
full-bore autolock. She is one of the finest guns in the ‘verse, but today,
today I’d like to think of her as my teacher’s aide. And we are here to
teach you about sensitivity and respectin’ other people’s feelin’s, and not
fightin’ and beatin’ and cuttin’ on each other an’ the like. It’s not
exactly my first choice of work--not exactly my eighth choice of work--but
the money’s good.
So until something better comes along, me an’ Vera, we don’t want to hear
any more of this nonsense about you kids cuttin’ on each other. Where the
ruttin’ hell do you get off, anyway? You hold a shank that way, anyone
worth a damn’ll knock it clean out of your hand. Then where are you?
You’re just some idiot as used to have a knife. That ain’t no way to fight.
Oh, and it ain’t sensitive-like neither. So you get your acts
together and act all civil and prissified.
I don’t know what you kids is so bent outta shape for, anyway. You got
guns. You got things to shoot. You got some pretty girls ‘round, an’ that
don’t hurt none. Hell, if it weren’t for the whole not leavin’ thing and
some of the more colorful lot... and havin’ no where to spend this money...
and the critters gettin’ all flush on you, this might be my kind of place.
I mean, there’s food--and it’s real food, not just protein. And y’got...
trees. And a pool. Seems y’got drops in all the psychedelic colors of the
rainbow, and a shiny big lake to look at while you’re on ‘em! Y’got... folk
walkin’ ‘round dressed up like Reavers...
Can’t say I much see the point in that last part.
Can’t say I much see the point in most of here, though. The lady runnin’
this show ain’t got any kind of sense, if you ask me. I told her as much
when I got the wave for the job. I’m not cut out to be sensitivity trainin’
anyway. Mostly I just hurt people, y’know? As I see it, there’s probably
always gonna be someone needs hurtin’ or shootin’ or scarin’. I figure I
oughta always have work. Told her that, too. Crazy whore said I’d be “just
fine” for the job. “Just fine.” Stupid, and crazy.
Might as well get down to business.
So, who all ‘round here is insensitive?
Poll Vote!
Character: Shihouin Yoruichi
Series: Bleach
Age: Unknown
Job: Escape Specialist
Canon: Yoruichi is one of the most mysterious characters in
Bleach, with a sordid, secret past that includes, but is not limited
to; being the princess of a noble clan; possessing the ability to turn
into a black cat; and having an army full of ninjas under her control.
Yes, that's right. Ninjas. As the leader of one of the four noble
houses in Soul Society, land of all that is Shinigami, Yoruichi was
the Commander of the Covert Ops Corps and widely respected… until the
day she helped her childhood companion Urahara Kisuke escape Soul
Society's "justice" after he created what he just darn well shouldn't
have. Thrust into exile and "excommunicated," as it were, Yoruichi
disappeared from Soul Society for hundreds of years before returning
to aid Urahara, Ichigo, and the others in time of crisis.
While she may be both an ex-Commander and of noble lineage, Yoruichi
is nothing like what you'd expect. She's sassy, sarcastic, impudent,
and after spending a couple hundred years as a cat, really doesn't
like clothes. However, she has a strong sense of justice and loyalty,
and is a firm but competent teacher for many of the characters,
including Ichigo, to whom she taught in three days what would normally
take several decades to learn. Her confident attitude automatically
commands respect and admiration from those around her, and if for some
reason there's a problem with that, she's not adverse to laying a
little "Goddess of Flash" smackdown to get what she wants.
It's clear that she'll give up a hell of a lot to do what she thinks
is right, and to protect what she cares about. But she's also fond of
sitting on the edge of hotsprings and flashing Ichigo her cunt. And
that will never stop being funny.
Oiiiiiiiii.
What's with all the long faces? I haven't seen this many depressed
people since I stopped doing my morning exercises with no pants on.
(And not by choice, mind you! I lost too many bodyguards to "health
reasons." What gives?)
So you're far from home and trapped in a camp with the living dead.
Big deal! You spend two hours with Urahara Kisuke after Tessai gives
him his "monthly checkup" and you'll know what real pain is.
And yeah, sure this place is weird - I haven't even been here a whole
day and I've been propositioned by zombies, perforated by a tiny
running cactus, and dare I say pollinated by fluffy flying
bears. Bees. Bearbees. Nogisu, nogisu. Boom.
But despite all that and the talking mushrooms, it could always be
worse! You could be dead! If you aren't already. You could be failing
at life, the afterlife, or whatever in-between you are currently
inhabiting, so help my sanity. Whatever mode of existence you choose
to call your own, my job here is to ensure you hold onto it for
as long as possible.
Or so I was told, in slightly more special terms. Guess what? I get to
teach you how to run away. Evade the amorous attentions of
tentacles, vines, and that boy who lacks awareness of such wondrous
modern inventions as "dental hygiene." Cabinmates fighting again?
Tired of the spousal bickering? Why are two men married, anyway?
Nobody knows! But I'm supposed to teach you how to run away from it
all.
Because running away from your problems is always healthy.
Shihouin Yoruichi, "Escape Specialist." Not the fanciest title I've
ever had, but it'll have to do. Play nice, and nobody gets hurt. Play…
not so nice, and we'll see just how far a human spine can bend.
Now. Does anybody know where I can get some milk?
Poll Vote!
Character: Aziraphale
Series: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Age: 6000+, though he appears in his early to mid-50s
Job: Librarian
Canon: Picture, in your mind, an older gentleman: he owns a bookshop (and this bookshop, like any good privately-owned bookshop, keeps inconvenient hours and really only exists as a place to house the owner's book collection); takes lunch at the Ritz in London with his good friend (pardon the fact that this friend is a demon, please; the reality that they're supposed to be enemies is often overlooked in favor of having someone to go driving with); and just so happens to have been the angel at the East Gate in the Garden of Eden, who was present when Adam and Eve fell and rather thought that they looked cold, the poor dears, and was giving them his flaming sword really that big of a deal?
This older gentleman would be Aziraphale, Heaven's representative on Earth. To the average observer he appears British, intelligent, and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. (He is indeed intelligent, was perhaps "British" before Britain existed, and is only male because he makes an effort to be.) He thinks tartan is stylish; is extremely polite, though wields a razor sharp wit and a tendency to become impatient; addresses everyone as "my dear"; and calls the Velvet Underground "bebop". Also, through the general incompetence of himself and his demonic counterpart Crowley (which is to say that they rather liked Earth and Heaven has no sushi restaurants), he helped to prevent the Apocalypse. All in a day's work.
My. This is an interesting little corner of America, isn't it? When I received my assignment I was unsure of what I would stumble upon, but it would appear that my fears were unfounded, or in the very least were concerning the wrong matters. I believe I'll find my way to the library, then, and set up post... Oh, where are my manners? Please call me Mr Fell. I apologize, my dears. It seems I am a bit out of sorts: the flight was rather long, and boy, are my arms tired! ... Ah, ahem.
I do not wish to dwell on the lack of amenities at this camp, but I wonder about the location. Surely it would be more conducive to the education process to house such a retreat in an environment where imminent death is not a constant worry. I was indeed updated on the current situation regarding those stuffed creatures and their ability to “resurrect” campers, but it's the principle of the matter; and besides, I believe my assignment made no note of the... walking dead. I'm fairly sure the camp director made no mention of it either --. Which is to say, ah. Never mind.
The library is... unique, isn’t it? Nothing to fear, I have a few books I may bring over from my own shop; a neighbor of mine would be quite happy to --. Oh, right, I appear to be forgetting the barrier, silly me. Of course the barrier prevents us from interacting with everything outside of the camp. I'm sure if I just make an effort, however --.
The barrier prevents us from interacting with everything outside of the camp.
This. Ah, this shouldn't be feasible, you realize, what with... the computers you have here. They're rather the kind that Crowley would favor, sharp and sleek and the lot, and I'm quite sure they're capable of making purchases and sending those electronic letters. I've used that Abe Books website before to buy the most pleasant first edition of that novel generally attributed to Mr Wilde --. So if I simply sit down and... my. That's a rather heated error message, isn't it?
Ah, Crowley? Were you ever contacted concerning out involvement in the recent... debacle? I believe I am suddenly incurring my reward.
Poll Vote!
Character: Leon Orcot
Series: Petshop of Horrors.
Age: 25.
Job: Enforcer of all laws pertaining to minors.
Canon: Leon Orcot! An official detective for the Los Angeles Police Department! Blond hair arranged in what is either a mullet or ponytail fashion, your call! Collector of strange t-shirts and (normal, thanks) pornography, both of which he proudly displays on either his person or in his tiny, disgusting apartment. Due to his aquantience with Count D, he has only just begun to believe in, or at least accept the supernatural. Leon smokes! He drinks! And he likes meat, like any true American.
Seriously, Leon is jaded, doesn't like people much, and is in possession of a very short temper. However, he still strives to protect his fellow man (and occasionally animals) because That Is What's Right By Him. Leon has a great dedication to upholding the law -- a dedication that sometimes almost borders on overzealous -- and he is a very good cop, for despite never being able to pin anything on Count D for the two years they were together friends practically married parents to Leon's little brother in contact, the man is much smarter than he appears. For the most part, Leon is a Good, Solid, Rude American.
Also, he will yell at your ass until he either feels less frustrated with the world or you confess to killing your saintly grandmother. That's just the kind of guy our dear detective is.
(Note! And no more exclamation points after this, promise. Leon is being apped pre-volume ten, which makes a decidedly large difference in his goals, motivations, and obsessions with certain people.)
... shit, okay. First off, I'm down to my last pack of cigarettes. First counselor to point out where I can get another carton of Camels wins, like, a million freaking Orcot brownie points. Second, I'm gonna make it real clear, right now, that no one is allowed to try and pull any of that freaky Lord of the Fleas or Children of the Corn crap on me, all right? Just 'cause I'm the latest "newbie" here doesn't mean you can try any funny stuff. As one of the best homicide detectives in LA, a guy with my kind of reputation won't allow his ass to get handed to him by a bunch of kids. No offense, but you guys wouldn't exactly be the fiercest set of perps I've ever busted, anyway.
And I know Louisiana isn't anywhere near my jurisdiction, and that I'm sticking out like a damn Dorothy blown in from Kansas, but it's not like this trip was my idea. The chief said I needed to take a break from Chinatown -- bullshit, I said, because back home I am this close to throwing this one kung fu bastard's ass into the slammer, but hell. Here is Detective Leon Orcot: officially on loan to help keep the peace at a summer camp, surrounded by kids that he knows he's going to hate, whether the dick likes it or not. Jesus. My gut's been telling me something's wrong ever since I got here, too. It's probably because some lunatic back home just got sold a tiger that looks like his dead grandma to him or something, I know it. Damn it, D.
I don't mind saying that this camp hasn't exactly been trying to be a home away from home for me, either. I'm not asking for the red carpet treatment, but a hired hand at least deserves a place to freaking sleep, for god's sake. And some of the real psychos back in LA would fit right in with the horror props covering this place, I swear. Is someone filming a B-movie around here or something? How hot's the lead actress? Nice tits? The zombie puppets look pretty damn realistic for a third-rate horror flick, I'll give them that.
But hell, Evil Dead ain't why I'm here. For now, just understand this: my official advice to you is to keep your little noses clean while I'm around. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I won't take my job seriously just 'cause I'm on the wrong side of the coast and don't like the setup much. I am 100% dedicated to protecting and serving the people, however loud and tiny those people might be, all right? So if something bad is ever going down, or if you see anyone doing something suspicious, it'd make my job a hell of lot easier if we all just pitched in and --
... holy shit, that was -- that was not a squid. I'm seeing things. Nicotine withdrawal. Jesus. Anyway. Just -- behave, damn it, before I have to arrest a brat or something.
Poll Vote!
Character: Padme Naberrie.
Series: Star Wars.
Age: 24.
Job: Rhetoric teacher.
Canon: At the beginning of the Star Wars prequels,
Padme Naberrie (as queen and senator, she takes the name Padmé Amidala)
is the fourteen-year-old Queen of Naboo, a planet under blockade by the
stereotypically evil Trade Federation. Strong-willed, determined, and
articulate, the young queen undertakes a series of adventures to save
her people that culminate in capturing the leader of the Trade
Federation and droid (mindless robot) army, and restoring peace to her
home world. Ten years later, in the second movie, Padme is a galactic
senator working to block the development of a new military. Despite her
peaceful aspirations, Padme is the target of repeated assassination
attempts and, for her own protection, is sent across the galaxy with
Anakin as her bodyguard. Even on the run, Padme takes charge and is
dedicated to the safety of others, even risking her own life with Anakin
on an almost suicidal mission to rescue Obi-Wan. Brave, noble, and
level-headed, Padme is devoted to her ideals, but is also reasonably
pragmatic, recognizing that some conflicts are better resolved with a
blaster than traditional diplomacy. Although idealistic Padme is
initially wary of Anakin - not only because he's a Jedi and isn't
supposed to have those sort of feelings, but also she's torn
between saving the universe and giving in to her own personal feelings -
they eventually fall in love. Against Padme's concerns about her ability
to serve the galaxy, the two of them marry at the end of Attack of
the Clones (Padme will be played from shortly after the second
movie, as Anakin is).
Padme does have a softer side in which she is more openly emotional
around her family and, as time goes by, Anakin. Given unfamiliar
surroundings, however, it is more likely that she would express her
diplomatic side, which is what the app focuses on.
Representatives from across the galaxy, I am honored to attend the
Senate's six-hundred sixty-sixth Conference on Lowland Regions, but I am
more than slightly concerned about the disappearance of my retinue. I
demand an explanation for why my security personnel have vanished and my
bodyguards have been reduced to proselytizing on the virtues of my
cranial matter. My name is Amidala, not amygdala, captain. Ladies and gentlemen of Camp Fuck You Die, I was not elected to watch
and do nothing while you discuss the varying grades of brains in a committee!
I cannot approve of this idea of waiting obediently in a cabin and
suffering miscellaneous diseases designed to ravage my genetic material
and turn me into a male, an anthromorph, or a miniaturized version of
myself, nor will I tolerate this backwards degradation, even if you have
thousands of zombies on the loose! Having survived the Trade
Federation's attack on Naboo, I am quite familiar with how to eliminate
hordes of mindless attackers. It is critical to take out the source of
the zombie threat: I'm sure there is some individual somewhere in these
swamps directing this horde. Capture that individual, and the masses
will be lost and confused.
More lost and confused, that is. I believe I saw a zombie walk right
into a crocodile's mouth.
Ideally, we would be able to enlist our brethren from other star systems
to assist us in the overthrow of the zombies' regime of fear. However,
when I asked for an audience with a delegation of sharks with lasers on
their heads, I was instead left to discuss the situation with a group of
mutated, ill-tempered sea bass who, while perfectly capable of holding
their own against the zombie menace if one of the undead strays into the
lake, are hardly suited for terrestrial warfare against the common
species of zombie. Likewise, the delegation from the gorillas appears
unduly antagonized by the mere presence of my senatorial garb.
Fortunately, all of my clothing is designed specially to rip
easily along the midriff, and rapid shotgun diplomacy persuaded the
gorillas that they were best off remaining neutral for the time
being. With persuasive assistance, I am sure, these gorillas
could be swayed to our cause; there have to be some civilians in
the area who could be trained for negotiations. The gorillas will simply
take time and a concerted diplomatic effort! The toucans, on the other
hand, are more interested in starting tables of strip sabacc and
discussing drag queens of Naboo than in rallying to the cause, and may
be eliminated as potential allies.
... it may be necessary to delay a confrontation with the zombies and
enter into aggressive negotiations with these birds.
Poll Vote!
Counselor apps. These are special, vibrant apps. There are 25 slots to go up to vote. And. Uh. 68 applications. (69 is the magic number in the inbox including our ecard from you guys. D'aw.) Let me repeat, 25 slots, 68 applications.
That means 43 applications will be weeded.
And, uh, basically all of these are pretty fucking good. Like. Really. Good. Apps.
So here's what we're putting up today. (There was agonizing. Alcohol. Acetaminophen. Fudge brownies.)
A: Useful, active, creative, functional JOB.
B: No format errors.
C: Canons are not too long. Strikeout jokes aren't overused, image links aren't overpowering, the format is not overbearing - basically, things we know can get an app voted out all by themselves.
D: Funny, in-character, nicely creative camp introductio- oh wait more than fifty are like that. Refer to A-C.
E: Of note: Time of submission of the application absolutely does not matter.
HERE ARE THE FIRST FIVE COUNSELORS.
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me if I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
Now VOTE. Closed!
Character: Jayne Cobb
Series: Firefly/Serenity movie
Age: between 30 and 40
Job: Sensitivity Trainer
Canon: Jayne is, essentially, the muscle on Serenity’s
crew. He’s big. He’s tough. He likes guns. He has many guns, as well as
knives, grenades, and assorted other party favors. He names them, and
assigns sentimental value to them. He’s good at standing there and looking
scary. Yes, he’s an excellent man to have at your back--unless the money’s
better somewhere else. Then, there may be a conflict in interests, since
he’s also the mercenary. He’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed,
though he’s perfectly capable of snarking with the rest of the crew (I think
it’s a requirement: you must be at least this witty to board this ship), and
perfectly capable of making bad decisions while he’s looking out for number
one. He isn’t above having a few pangs of conscience about them, either.
His voice is strong, and very clearly “cowboy,” blunt, common and outer
world, without much patience for niceties.
Okay, everyone gather ‘round. This? This here is Vera. Vera is a Callahan
full-bore autolock. She is one of the finest guns in the ‘verse, but today,
today I’d like to think of her as my teacher’s aide. And we are here to
teach you about sensitivity and respectin’ other people’s feelin’s, and not
fightin’ and beatin’ and cuttin’ on each other an’ the like. It’s not
exactly my first choice of work--not exactly my eighth choice of work--but
the money’s good.
So until something better comes along, me an’ Vera, we don’t want to hear
any more of this nonsense about you kids cuttin’ on each other. Where the
ruttin’ hell do you get off, anyway? You hold a shank that way, anyone
worth a damn’ll knock it clean out of your hand. Then where are you?
You’re just some idiot as used to have a knife. That ain’t no way to fight.
Oh, and it ain’t sensitive-like neither. So you get your acts
together and act all civil and prissified.
I don’t know what you kids is so bent outta shape for, anyway. You got
guns. You got things to shoot. You got some pretty girls ‘round, an’ that
don’t hurt none. Hell, if it weren’t for the whole not leavin’ thing and
some of the more colorful lot... and havin’ no where to spend this money...
and the critters gettin’ all flush on you, this might be my kind of place.
I mean, there’s food--and it’s real food, not just protein. And y’got...
trees. And a pool. Seems y’got drops in all the psychedelic colors of the
rainbow, and a shiny big lake to look at while you’re on ‘em! Y’got... folk
walkin’ ‘round dressed up like Reavers...
Can’t say I much see the point in that last part.
Can’t say I much see the point in most of here, though. The lady runnin’
this show ain’t got any kind of sense, if you ask me. I told her as much
when I got the wave for the job. I’m not cut out to be sensitivity trainin’
anyway. Mostly I just hurt people, y’know? As I see it, there’s probably
always gonna be someone needs hurtin’ or shootin’ or scarin’. I figure I
oughta always have work. Told her that, too. Crazy whore said I’d be “just
fine” for the job. “Just fine.” Stupid, and crazy.
Might as well get down to business.
So, who all ‘round here is insensitive?
Poll Vote!
Character: Shihouin Yoruichi
Series: Bleach
Age: Unknown
Job: Escape Specialist
Canon: Yoruichi is one of the most mysterious characters in
Bleach, with a sordid, secret past that includes, but is not limited
to; being the princess of a noble clan; possessing the ability to turn
into a black cat; and having an army full of ninjas under her control.
Yes, that's right. Ninjas. As the leader of one of the four noble
houses in Soul Society, land of all that is Shinigami, Yoruichi was
the Commander of the Covert Ops Corps and widely respected… until the
day she helped her childhood companion Urahara Kisuke escape Soul
Society's "justice" after he created what he just darn well shouldn't
have. Thrust into exile and "excommunicated," as it were, Yoruichi
disappeared from Soul Society for hundreds of years before returning
to aid Urahara, Ichigo, and the others in time of crisis.
While she may be both an ex-Commander and of noble lineage, Yoruichi
is nothing like what you'd expect. She's sassy, sarcastic, impudent,
and after spending a couple hundred years as a cat, really doesn't
like clothes. However, she has a strong sense of justice and loyalty,
and is a firm but competent teacher for many of the characters,
including Ichigo, to whom she taught in three days what would normally
take several decades to learn. Her confident attitude automatically
commands respect and admiration from those around her, and if for some
reason there's a problem with that, she's not adverse to laying a
little "Goddess of Flash" smackdown to get what she wants.
It's clear that she'll give up a hell of a lot to do what she thinks
is right, and to protect what she cares about. But she's also fond of
sitting on the edge of hotsprings and flashing Ichigo her cunt. And
that will never stop being funny.
Oiiiiiiiii.
What's with all the long faces? I haven't seen this many depressed
people since I stopped doing my morning exercises with no pants on.
(And not by choice, mind you! I lost too many bodyguards to "health
reasons." What gives?)
So you're far from home and trapped in a camp with the living dead.
Big deal! You spend two hours with Urahara Kisuke after Tessai gives
him his "monthly checkup" and you'll know what real pain is.
And yeah, sure this place is weird - I haven't even been here a whole
day and I've been propositioned by zombies, perforated by a tiny
running cactus, and dare I say pollinated by fluffy flying
bears. Bees. Bearbees. Nogisu, nogisu. Boom.
But despite all that and the talking mushrooms, it could always be
worse! You could be dead! If you aren't already. You could be failing
at life, the afterlife, or whatever in-between you are currently
inhabiting, so help my sanity. Whatever mode of existence you choose
to call your own, my job here is to ensure you hold onto it for
as long as possible.
Or so I was told, in slightly more special terms. Guess what? I get to
teach you how to run away. Evade the amorous attentions of
tentacles, vines, and that boy who lacks awareness of such wondrous
modern inventions as "dental hygiene." Cabinmates fighting again?
Tired of the spousal bickering? Why are two men married, anyway?
Nobody knows! But I'm supposed to teach you how to run away from it
all.
Because running away from your problems is always healthy.
Shihouin Yoruichi, "Escape Specialist." Not the fanciest title I've
ever had, but it'll have to do. Play nice, and nobody gets hurt. Play…
not so nice, and we'll see just how far a human spine can bend.
Now. Does anybody know where I can get some milk?
Poll Vote!
Character: Aziraphale
Series: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Age: 6000+, though he appears in his early to mid-50s
Job: Librarian
Canon: Picture, in your mind, an older gentleman: he owns a bookshop (and this bookshop, like any good privately-owned bookshop, keeps inconvenient hours and really only exists as a place to house the owner's book collection); takes lunch at the Ritz in London with his good friend (pardon the fact that this friend is a demon, please; the reality that they're supposed to be enemies is often overlooked in favor of having someone to go driving with); and just so happens to have been the angel at the East Gate in the Garden of Eden, who was present when Adam and Eve fell and rather thought that they looked cold, the poor dears, and was giving them his flaming sword really that big of a deal?
This older gentleman would be Aziraphale, Heaven's representative on Earth. To the average observer he appears British, intelligent, and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. (He is indeed intelligent, was perhaps "British" before Britain existed, and is only male because he makes an effort to be.) He thinks tartan is stylish; is extremely polite, though wields a razor sharp wit and a tendency to become impatient; addresses everyone as "my dear"; and calls the Velvet Underground "bebop". Also, through the general incompetence of himself and his demonic counterpart Crowley (which is to say that they rather liked Earth and Heaven has no sushi restaurants), he helped to prevent the Apocalypse. All in a day's work.
My. This is an interesting little corner of America, isn't it? When I received my assignment I was unsure of what I would stumble upon, but it would appear that my fears were unfounded, or in the very least were concerning the wrong matters. I believe I'll find my way to the library, then, and set up post... Oh, where are my manners? Please call me Mr Fell. I apologize, my dears. It seems I am a bit out of sorts: the flight was rather long, and boy, are my arms tired! ... Ah, ahem.
I do not wish to dwell on the lack of amenities at this camp, but I wonder about the location. Surely it would be more conducive to the education process to house such a retreat in an environment where imminent death is not a constant worry. I was indeed updated on the current situation regarding those stuffed creatures and their ability to “resurrect” campers, but it's the principle of the matter; and besides, I believe my assignment made no note of the... walking dead. I'm fairly sure the camp director made no mention of it either --. Which is to say, ah. Never mind.
The library is... unique, isn’t it? Nothing to fear, I have a few books I may bring over from my own shop; a neighbor of mine would be quite happy to --. Oh, right, I appear to be forgetting the barrier, silly me. Of course the barrier prevents us from interacting with everything outside of the camp. I'm sure if I just make an effort, however --.
The barrier prevents us from interacting with everything outside of the camp.
This. Ah, this shouldn't be feasible, you realize, what with... the computers you have here. They're rather the kind that Crowley would favor, sharp and sleek and the lot, and I'm quite sure they're capable of making purchases and sending those electronic letters. I've used that Abe Books website before to buy the most pleasant first edition of that novel generally attributed to Mr Wilde --. So if I simply sit down and... my. That's a rather heated error message, isn't it?
Ah, Crowley? Were you ever contacted concerning out involvement in the recent... debacle? I believe I am suddenly incurring my reward.
Poll Vote!
Character: Leon Orcot
Series: Petshop of Horrors.
Age: 25.
Job: Enforcer of all laws pertaining to minors.
Canon: Leon Orcot! An official detective for the Los Angeles Police Department! Blond hair arranged in what is either a mullet or ponytail fashion, your call! Collector of strange t-shirts and (normal, thanks) pornography, both of which he proudly displays on either his person or in his tiny, disgusting apartment. Due to his aquantience with Count D, he has only just begun to believe in, or at least accept the supernatural. Leon smokes! He drinks! And he likes meat, like any true American.
Seriously, Leon is jaded, doesn't like people much, and is in possession of a very short temper. However, he still strives to protect his fellow man (and occasionally animals) because That Is What's Right By Him. Leon has a great dedication to upholding the law -- a dedication that sometimes almost borders on overzealous -- and he is a very good cop, for despite never being able to pin anything on Count D for the two years they were together friends practically married parents to Leon's little brother in contact, the man is much smarter than he appears. For the most part, Leon is a Good, Solid, Rude American.
Also, he will yell at your ass until he either feels less frustrated with the world or you confess to killing your saintly grandmother. That's just the kind of guy our dear detective is.
(Note! And no more exclamation points after this, promise. Leon is being apped pre-volume ten, which makes a decidedly large difference in his goals, motivations, and obsessions with certain people.)
... shit, okay. First off, I'm down to my last pack of cigarettes. First counselor to point out where I can get another carton of Camels wins, like, a million freaking Orcot brownie points. Second, I'm gonna make it real clear, right now, that no one is allowed to try and pull any of that freaky Lord of the Fleas or Children of the Corn crap on me, all right? Just 'cause I'm the latest "newbie" here doesn't mean you can try any funny stuff. As one of the best homicide detectives in LA, a guy with my kind of reputation won't allow his ass to get handed to him by a bunch of kids. No offense, but you guys wouldn't exactly be the fiercest set of perps I've ever busted, anyway.
And I know Louisiana isn't anywhere near my jurisdiction, and that I'm sticking out like a damn Dorothy blown in from Kansas, but it's not like this trip was my idea. The chief said I needed to take a break from Chinatown -- bullshit, I said, because back home I am this close to throwing this one kung fu bastard's ass into the slammer, but hell. Here is Detective Leon Orcot: officially on loan to help keep the peace at a summer camp, surrounded by kids that he knows he's going to hate, whether the dick likes it or not. Jesus. My gut's been telling me something's wrong ever since I got here, too. It's probably because some lunatic back home just got sold a tiger that looks like his dead grandma to him or something, I know it. Damn it, D.
I don't mind saying that this camp hasn't exactly been trying to be a home away from home for me, either. I'm not asking for the red carpet treatment, but a hired hand at least deserves a place to freaking sleep, for god's sake. And some of the real psychos back in LA would fit right in with the horror props covering this place, I swear. Is someone filming a B-movie around here or something? How hot's the lead actress? Nice tits? The zombie puppets look pretty damn realistic for a third-rate horror flick, I'll give them that.
But hell, Evil Dead ain't why I'm here. For now, just understand this: my official advice to you is to keep your little noses clean while I'm around. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I won't take my job seriously just 'cause I'm on the wrong side of the coast and don't like the setup much. I am 100% dedicated to protecting and serving the people, however loud and tiny those people might be, all right? So if something bad is ever going down, or if you see anyone doing something suspicious, it'd make my job a hell of lot easier if we all just pitched in and --
... holy shit, that was -- that was not a squid. I'm seeing things. Nicotine withdrawal. Jesus. Anyway. Just -- behave, damn it, before I have to arrest a brat or something.
Poll Vote!
Character: Padme Naberrie.
Series: Star Wars.
Age: 24.
Job: Rhetoric teacher.
Canon: At the beginning of the Star Wars prequels,
Padme Naberrie (as queen and senator, she takes the name Padmé Amidala)
is the fourteen-year-old Queen of Naboo, a planet under blockade by the
stereotypically evil Trade Federation. Strong-willed, determined, and
articulate, the young queen undertakes a series of adventures to save
her people that culminate in capturing the leader of the Trade
Federation and droid (mindless robot) army, and restoring peace to her
home world. Ten years later, in the second movie, Padme is a galactic
senator working to block the development of a new military. Despite her
peaceful aspirations, Padme is the target of repeated assassination
attempts and, for her own protection, is sent across the galaxy with
Anakin as her bodyguard. Even on the run, Padme takes charge and is
dedicated to the safety of others, even risking her own life with Anakin
on an almost suicidal mission to rescue Obi-Wan. Brave, noble, and
level-headed, Padme is devoted to her ideals, but is also reasonably
pragmatic, recognizing that some conflicts are better resolved with a
blaster than traditional diplomacy. Although idealistic Padme is
initially wary of Anakin - not only because he's a Jedi and isn't
supposed to have those sort of feelings, but also she's torn
between saving the universe and giving in to her own personal feelings -
they eventually fall in love. Against Padme's concerns about her ability
to serve the galaxy, the two of them marry at the end of Attack of
the Clones (Padme will be played from shortly after the second
movie, as Anakin is).
Padme does have a softer side in which she is more openly emotional
around her family and, as time goes by, Anakin. Given unfamiliar
surroundings, however, it is more likely that she would express her
diplomatic side, which is what the app focuses on.
Representatives from across the galaxy, I am honored to attend the
Senate's six-hundred sixty-sixth Conference on Lowland Regions, but I am
more than slightly concerned about the disappearance of my retinue. I
demand an explanation for why my security personnel have vanished and my
bodyguards have been reduced to proselytizing on the virtues of my
cranial matter. My name is Amidala, not amygdala, captain. Ladies and gentlemen of Camp Fuck You Die, I was not elected to watch
and do nothing while you discuss the varying grades of brains in a committee!
I cannot approve of this idea of waiting obediently in a cabin and
suffering miscellaneous diseases designed to ravage my genetic material
and turn me into a male, an anthromorph, or a miniaturized version of
myself, nor will I tolerate this backwards degradation, even if you have
thousands of zombies on the loose! Having survived the Trade
Federation's attack on Naboo, I am quite familiar with how to eliminate
hordes of mindless attackers. It is critical to take out the source of
the zombie threat: I'm sure there is some individual somewhere in these
swamps directing this horde. Capture that individual, and the masses
will be lost and confused.
More lost and confused, that is. I believe I saw a zombie walk right
into a crocodile's mouth.
Ideally, we would be able to enlist our brethren from other star systems
to assist us in the overthrow of the zombies' regime of fear. However,
when I asked for an audience with a delegation of sharks with lasers on
their heads, I was instead left to discuss the situation with a group of
mutated, ill-tempered sea bass who, while perfectly capable of holding
their own against the zombie menace if one of the undead strays into the
lake, are hardly suited for terrestrial warfare against the common
species of zombie. Likewise, the delegation from the gorillas appears
unduly antagonized by the mere presence of my senatorial garb.
Fortunately, all of my clothing is designed specially to rip
easily along the midriff, and rapid shotgun diplomacy persuaded the
gorillas that they were best off remaining neutral for the time
being. With persuasive assistance, I am sure, these gorillas
could be swayed to our cause; there have to be some civilians in
the area who could be trained for negotiations. The gorillas will simply
take time and a concerted diplomatic effort! The toucans, on the other
hand, are more interested in starting tables of strip sabacc and
discussing drag queens of Naboo than in rallying to the cause, and may
be eliminated as potential allies.
... it may be necessary to delay a confrontation with the zombies and
enter into aggressive negotiations with these birds.
Poll Vote!