(no subject)
Halfwaaaaaaay /o/ THE END IS IN SIGHT but is that a good thing???
... yeah anyway, go vote. |D ♥
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.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. CLOSED.
Character: Riffael Raffit
Series: Cain Saga/Godchild
Character Age: 28
Job: Head of Rent-A-Butler's Camp Fuck You Die Branch
Canon: Cain's a young earl with a passion for poisons and dying women. Riff's a medical student who became a butler when his family died in a fire. Together, they fight crime! (Read as: solve horrific mysteries often involving incest, underage sex, and evisceration.)
Despite his youth and lack of formal training, Riffael Raffit (called Riff) became head butler in no time at all due to being the only servant to befriend young Cain. Riff is kind to a fault; before Cain gave him a reason to live again (cue d'awwwws), he attempted to commit suicide because he blamed himself for his family's death. He is mild, professional, and helpful; he will offer his assistance to anyone in need, and he's quite good with children--after all, he put himself through medical school by teaching children how to box! Despite this kindly persona, though, Riff is just as capable of displaying a much darker side, one that is disturbingly emotionless about killing. After all, anyone who endangers his lord is a threat. . . even his own fiancŽe.
Note: Riff is being apped post-Volume 8.
Sample Post:
Good evening, lords, ladies, and sirs of dubious gender identity. My name is Riffael Raffit, and I am here to fulfill all your buttling needs. I hasten to assure you, as there was some misunderstanding earlier with a lady who had quite grabby fingers that stayed even when the rest of her hand did not, that to buttle is to serve and not to offer one's posterior for inappropriate touching. Nor, I might add, do we serve in the nude, no matter how much of a tip is offered. While it is correct that a butler's motto is to not be heard, we are not to be seen. . . quite that much of. In fact, it would be better if we were neither heard nor seen.
As for my own specialties, I have some experience in valet work, such as assisting with my lord's clothing. In fact, the first thing I did upon my arrival here was to familiarize myself with the laundry machines. I understand they are some sort of new technology, but I am rather curious as to what sort of madman would create such a device to have teeth. Not only do they have teeth, but their bite is just as bad as their bark. Luckily, I was able to subdue the savage machine and rescue the towels from the gaping maw of death, fresh-smelling and well bleached. Thank goodness that the Lady Director's detergent is as good at bloodstain removal as ours back home, despite the rather ominous label on the front. And the green hue the towels now have is rather. . . pretty. In a sickly, rotting way.
I also have some catering experience; although my lord is not fond of hosting large dinner parties, some of the local zombies are. I was honored to oversee their annual Head, Shoulders, Knees, then Toes feast. Despite the perversity of such cannibalism, a butler does have his duties. I am no master of such rituals; what order do the utensils go in if the meal is to be consumed without use of them? Nonetheless, I will be doing my best. It may be a recommendation to my services that I was offered a taste of the eyes, though I did decline. I am just a butler; it is not my place to take part in something like that. And I certainly have no desire to.
Needless to say, I do hope that you, human and demon and undead campers all, will be less tactless in the use of my services. Rent-a-Butler is here to service you, but a man does have his limits, after all. Upon fulfilling my duties, the zombies decided that I, too, would make a delicious meal, and I was forced to defend myself. A butler, after all, must not be helpless, and I do carry around a handkerchief for emergencies such as these. It simply would not do to serve drinks with bloody hands, no matter how varied the diet here.
Poll Vote!
Character: Roland
Character Age: Mid-30's
Series: Digital Devil Saga 2
Job: Inter-Species Relations
Canon: [Spoilers!] Digital Devil Saga is a heart-warming tale of cannibalistic demons on a never-ending quest to save the world from their girlfriend. Each game is set in a different world: the main party starts out in the Junkyard, a warzone of perpetual rain where warring tribes are forced to fight and devour each other in an effort to reach Nirvana. In Digital Devil Saga 2, however, it turns out that everything thus far has been a lie of Matrix proportions. Revealed to be AIs created by the Cyber Shaman, the Nirvana everyone had hoped for was nothing more than the deeply polluted real world, cursed by God. However, having managed to emerge as flesh-and-blood into the real world, the party sets about saving humanity from the Karma Society. And Sera. And God. Well, shit.
Enter Roland: the bitter, sarcastic, alcoholic leader of the Lokapala, a terrorist organization opposed to the Karma Society and their genius plan to turn "chosen" people into demons so they can live under the cursed Sun, and to hell with the rest of humanity-they're lunch! Roland is just a normal kind of guy, alcoholism and terrorism aside, described by his ward as "kind of a loser," which is actually pretty apt. However, after getting bitchsmacked around from some pissed-off AIs and having the futility of his honorless life tossed back in his face, Roland cleans up his act, sobering up and injecting himself with the demon virus. With a new lease on life after becoming a cannibal demon (. . .), Roland proves himself to be an honorable and loyal ally, fiercely devoted to protecting his comrades. A failed author, Roland is clever and well-spoken, with a dry, understated way of expressing himself that occasionally borders on self-depreciation. Roland is one of the few in the game that understands the true nature of karma-with that and his guilt complex over his best friend's death, it's no wonder he turned to drink.
Sample Post:
. . . well, I suppose this is just karma, after all.
Good afternoon to all of you. My name is Roland-apparently, I am to be your Inter-Species Relations adviser. I am taking that to mean encouraging cooperation and understanding between demons and humans, but if there are any other concerns or questions you might have regarding other species or other, er, relations . . . I suppose you might as well ask. My instructions advise that I counsel you on any concerns that "won't get you banned from 4chan," though I can't promise to be of much help. If someone could explain to me what that means, to begin with, it might get us off on a better start. Though I somehow doubt it.
Jurisdiction aside, however, I have a few notes it has been suggested we start on. Call them recommendations, if you will:
1. The cannibal demons do not always want to eat you. Sometimes they're full. By which I mean, ah, although the demons might want to eat you most of the time, just as you would probably always want to eat, say, a delicious hamburger, you would be able to control yourself from eating the hamburger if it wasn't yours to eat. The same thing goes for demons. Not . . . that I am comparing you to hamburgers. It's a metaphor.
2. Ask questions first, shoot later. Unlike zombies, although demons might look frightful, they are capable of reasoning. Except for the times when they aren't. In which case, I would advise you to shoot first, or perhaps run first, or run while shooting. You should be able to tell when a demon is capable of being reasoned with. If you cannot . . . perhaps you might want to negotiate from a distance, for your own peace of mind. And ours.
3. Be tolerant of other peoples' lifestyles. After all, for most demons, cannibalism is a necessity rather than a choice, just as being a demon isn't something they had any measure of conscious control over. That is, most of the time. There are those that made the choice willingly, but consider that they may have had reasons that transcended the uncomfortable reality of eating others. And of course there are those who do enjoy eating others, but-. . . let's just move on.
In any case, I believe that covers enough for discussion's sake. Apparently I'll be having an assistant for a demonstration of sorts, down by the lake. Does anybody know a Ms. Marcy? Her seminar is entitled, "Learning To Embrace Your Inner Demon: And Embracing Your Demon's Inner-"
. . . I'm not drunk enough for this.
Poll Vote!
Character:Shawn Spencer
Series: Psych
Character Age: 28
Job: Psychic Detective
Canon: Psych is about Shawn Spencer and the use of his amazing fantastic memory powers. Trained as a child by his father (and rather secretive about it), he lied to the Santa Barbara Police Department that he was in fact, psychic! Forced to keep up the charade and discovering he rather enjoyed being a fake psychic detective, he created his own agency with his bestest best friend/partner/sidekick/Magichead Gus and had many fake-psychic-ey adventures, much to the chagrin of Detective Lassiter who wants nothing better than to make Shawn's life a living hell.
Shawn is the "guy who never learned to grow up" and the guy "who abuses grand exposition". In short, he likes to ham it up and ramble off-topic quite often. He's rash, impulsive and prone to shooting off movie references. Rather flighty and very charismatic, he can charm the ladies and drive the men up the wall quite literally. A tad bit inconsiderate and egoistic at times, Shawn does want to help you. And you. With randomly appearing pineapples, preferably.
Note - Lassie is Shawn's personal nickname for Detective Carlton Lassiter.
Sample Post:
Lassie-face, I appreciate that you went through all this trouble to send me here. You really didn't have to hand-cuff me to my seat on the plane. And I, Shawn Spencer, psychic detective extraordinaire and part-time zombie linguist all those years of re-watching the Night of the Living Dead have paid off, have come to help camp in its time of need, and will have this mystery solved in two days! Why two? Because it's a mystic number, my friends. Do not doubt the twos. Always doubt the threes. One simply does not use a three for mystic purposes. There is evil there that does not sleep. Or snore. Well. You get the picture.
Now really, you all didn't need to stand up and clap for my little speech! I'm just doing the right thing. And the right thing is me helping you to get your freedom! To save this camp! To make sure your, yes, your arm is in the right socket. Here, let me get that for you. It's no problem, it's what I do. Wait...Maybe it should be 'It's what I do?'. Or perhaps 'It's...what I do?'. Huh. I guess the latter works best for dramatic effect and science fiction sitcoms. So, first off, I need all the details about the mysterious murder of Mister mysterious Stephen....mystery. Yes, you heard me. Now, chop chop! Man, this stuff was easier to do when Gus was around. Perhaps I should see if anyone is interested in the job of "being Berton Mcgrumpypants Gus".
Oh hey, you're back! Here, have a free pineapple. It's on the house. What? Where did it come from? Have you learned nothing? You never question free food. Just accept it for what it is. A pineapple. So, what did you find? The tentacle monster in the lake has something to do with this fiendish crime?! Good job, my short, young, decomposing man! I am very proud of you. In fact, I think I shall call you Mini-Gus. You shall be the Fezzik to my Montoya, the Robin to my Batman, the cheese to my butterbiscuit! Or is that butter to my biscuit? Anyway, after this job is done Mini-Gus, I'm sure you can come back to Santa Barbara with me and we can relax with some lemonade and TiVo.
What? We can't leave this place? And people have been trapped here for years?! We are talking human years here and not zombie years, right? Juuuuust checking!
Okay...So make that two and a half days! But not three, cause threes are evil.
Poll Vote!
Character: Sawada 'Maman' Nana
Series: Reborn! [Manga]
Character Age: 34
Canon: Serious poll, who's dreamed of being married to the mob? Well, Sawada Nana did more than just dream. Yep, she's every inch the classic mafia wife. Stays at home to look after the kids while darling hubby is out tending to the business, rarely bats an eye at the mayhem that plagues her home daily, even encourages her son, the reluctant future boss of the family! Oh, but. There is the thing where she's incredibly oblivious and doesn't seem to realize any of this has a thing to do with the mob. This doesn't make her any less of a good mother, of course. She does love her son and wants him to be successful and happy with his life. If she happens to casually diss him every now and then, even to his Biggest Crush™, well. It's motivational, right? He'll prove her wrong one day, for sure. She's also sure to keep him informed about things important to his life. Like, for example, the fact that his father disappeared without a trace for two years! Except that was a total lie and he was really just overseas. But it's okay since it was much more romantic to say he was missing, of course.
Seriously though. She's a good woman who manages an often chaotic mafia household with very little trouble; most problems are brushed off as rambunctious fighting of children. Yes, even mafia-caused explosions. She's thrilled her son's been making so many new friends and never has a problem with making them snacks when they drop by or checking on them if she notices they're looking down. And those kids that just moved themselves into her home? Not a problem either! In fact, she'll just claim those kids as her own. In front of a classroom full of Tsuna's peers and their parents. Nevermind the implications of none of them looking a thing alike. (Of course, the second those kids get into trouble she brushes all responsibility for them onto Tsuna.)
So. Great mom or greatest mom?
Job Idea: Camp Mom
Sample Post: Wow~ This is a really impressive horror camp, isn't it? All the attractions are so realistic -- you really get a strong sense of terror from them. Why, I set one of them off the other day. I feel silly saying this, but for a few minutes I was sure I wouldn't make it to my first day of work! Who'd have thought that trees could move like that? Going right for your throat . . . My, it seemed so dangerous. It's a good thing that nice security man in the gorilla costume pulled me out of the way. I wonder if the director hires from the same company as my home town? He was wearing the same kind of suit, and he was just as polite as those nice gentlemen always are. It's so nice to see such dedicated workers -- I never seem to have any troubles when they're around. ♥
--My job? Oh, that's right! I almost forgot! I've just been hired as the official camp mother for this camp. The other counselors need to be able to focus on big problems, so I'm going to be here to help with any day to day troubles that you might have. You can ask me for anything from helping settle an argument to getting those zombie stains out of your shirt. I found this amazing cleaning solution in the mess hall that takes care of them quicker than you can blink! I'll have to ask the kitchen staff where they store it though. I haven't been able to find any since Tuesday . . .
But don't think that I'm just here to wait around on one of you to have some kind of problem either! It would be too boring doing that, and this is supposed to be a summer camp, right? We should do something fun together so we can get to know each other! I've heard there's an amazing laser show that you can see at the volcano, so I thought it would be a good idea to hike out there and get good spots for it. Or, even better, maybe they'll have an eruption! Wouldn't that be romantic? Kyaa~ Just thinking about it gives me shivers! ♥ Just think, being held by the one you love while the mountain explodes~ If only my husband were here . . . Hm? Oh, don't look so worried~! It's just another one of the attractions, so I'm sure it'll be safe if it erupts. They've got to have safeguards in a camp this big or else they'd never be able to keep it running. Remember, they have all those nicely dressed gorilla-men around! I always see them working on movie sets at home, and they've never had any trouble during stunt shoots with explosions even bigger than these!
Haah, but I suppose if it really worries you so much we can do something simple instead. Making cookies is a good way to get to know each other, right? Why don't we make some gingerbread cookies to decorate? We might not have real sugar, but I did find these cute gorilla shaped cutters. Let's hurry and get the dough made so we can bake them quickly, alright? First the butter and splenda, then the eggs, and now the rest . . . There! And now we just cut and put them in to bake! Now, what should we do while we-- Hm? They're trying to escape? Oh, don't be silly, they're only cookies. Are you really sure?
Oh wow! They really are moving around in there! Well . . . that's amazing! You shouldn't be so worried by this. I thought it was only my no good son who'd be troubled by something like this, but I guess I must have been wrong. I was sure you'd all be old enough to know something like this was pretend. It must be a some kind of movie in the oven window, right? The director must be an incredibly creative woman; she really does think of everything. ♥
Poll Vote!
Character name: Citrine
Series: Xenosaga (Ep. III)
Age: 27
Job: Camp P.M.S. (Psionic Mentality Specialist)
Canon: Note: Application contains some spoilers for the whole series.
Citrine is one of the only four living U.R.T.V.s; number 668 out of 669 mutated clone bioweapons, created by Dmitri Yuriev. Their main objective was to kill a being from a higher dimension which jeopardized the galaxy.
The female types were created by Yuriev with the intention of keeping the genetic code from breaking down over generations of cloning. They were also theorized to have been genetically superior to the male types, making her a bit sexist toward her brothers.
Citrine possesses the dual purpose of killing her older, number 666, brother if his own potentially dangerous powers went out of control. Outwardly apathetic and sadistic, she takes pride in surpassing others and exerts a conscious effort to keep her emotions suppressed. She obeys her creator unquestioningly, and views herself the same as he does: an instrument of war, instead of a normal person.
Sample Entry: Greetings, delinquents. You all may call me Citrine. My purpose here is to assist Dr. Elizabeth Sayre in studying those of you with latent or active psychic abilities, such as psychokinesis or telepathy, while implementing a variety of examinations and laboratory research. It would seem that there are obvious reasons why those of you with certain "talents" are here... this is a large scale murder investigation. My predominant occupation in this area is to help you all explore your powers, at your discretion, and to collect data on what you can do and how you progress. While I realize that some of you may find Ms. Sayre's methods questionable, one should assume that seeing your lover dismembered would have a very depressing effect.
I must admit that this wasn't my conception of a position I would ever consider; inheriting a summer camp full of rowdy teenagers to reprimand. Before we begin open sessions, I'm going to point out that I don't want anyone bitching about my implementation of corporal punishment, because children get spanked. Never allow yourselves to forget: one of you is a monster, and the rest of you could seemingly do very well with a few thwacks to the head to improve your outlooks. Please address performance complaints to my inbox, and messages deemed worthy of ridicule or spell-check will be duly noted, numbered and disposed of.
A major facet of my research here will be to deduce whether or not there is a biological reason for the diverse range of psychic abilities many of you possess, as well as possible physical byproducts. So, by all means, those of you who have powers that you are unsure of, or are beyond your control, are urged to pay me a visit as soon as possible. I do hope you don't mind electrodes, needles, or possible combat simulations, although some research will be put off until I find whoever replaced my PDA with a banana-shaped cellular phone. As it stands, the next subject-- that is to say, camper, who raises their voice while inside mine and father's labs will forcefully receive an acid pop. Masochistic candy... presumably some form of self-torture. And while I possess a variety of nanomachine treatments to repair corrosive tissue damage, you'll do well to remember the pain factor.
Please, do mind your tongues while I'm trying to concentrate.
Poll Vote!
Character name: Makigami Ine
Series: Air Gear
Age: Unspecified; appears mid/late twenties
Job: Physiotherapist
Canon: Better. Faster. Higher. From rollerskates to rollerblades, and finally to Air Trek; inline skates with motors for speed and air cushions for impact built right into the wheels, allowing people to come one step closer to touching the sky. Though adopted equally by casual and professional sports, it's in the back alleys, as the sun sets, where A-T truly find their home -- where teams of 'storm riders', the most extreme of extreme A-T users, come together and compete in 'parts wars' for rank, territory, and pride. Air Gear follows the ongoing story of Minami Ikki, a boy who starts out a street punk middle schooler and ends up... well, a street punk on wheels, but wheels that, bit by bit, he's slowly making into his wings.
During the day, Ine is every inch a professional woman. Accent on the 'woman' part of that -- with her preference for miniskirts, four-inch stiletto heels, and necklines that drop deep into her (more than) ample cleavage, there's no way she'd let you forget. Director of the local private hospital, she's competent, authoritative, and more than capable of holding her own -- both with her cantankerous and headstrong staff, and with the occasional troublesome skirt-flipping patient (nothing stops a pervert in his tracks like a casual four-inch heel to the forehead). Night, however, brings out a totally different side. Nicknamed 'Makigai', lit. 'spiral shellfish', for her unique cone-like updo, she's a world-famous A-T tuner; a specialized mechanic who studies a rider and adjusts their A-T to best match the strengths of their body. While she can still become professional at a moment's notice, this side of her is often playful and affectionate, especially with cute younger folk (i.e., she's known to be a bit of a pedo). She's definitely one of the best doctors for treating A-T related injuries, but with a bag of tricks that includes surprise syringes filled with paralyzing drugs and acupuncture needles long enough to go straight through a person's leg, prevention is definitely preferable to the cure.
I must say, when I asked a those children in the waiting room for directions to your hospital's record room, I hadn't been expecting such an interesting read. Cases of muscle strain, bruising, and mental shock from outdoor aquatic activities. Frequent reports of gastrointestinal upset, with most cases occurring around a single day of the week. Irritability, groin strain, and over-development of wrist muscles. Resurrection sickness. Accounts of injuries that extend from 'walking into a door' to 'blasted out of a live volcano'. And finally, frequent reports of serious lacerations to hands, shoulders, cheeks, thighs and sides with nothing but post-it notes stating 'I put a band-aid on it' as documentation for proper rest and recovery.
I had heard that the state of American health care was in decline, but leaving an outbreak of shounenosus ultratardus unattended for this long is ludicrous.
Mmm, but the rest of that can wait. Hello, everyone. My name is Makigami Ine, and I was sent here by your hospital's partner branch to make sure that everything here was running according to standard. There have been a few complaints, and some months ago this facility was scheduled for investigation by a qualified Gender Inequality Reassessment Liaison. But, try as your board might, the lack of GIRLs in the area has made a proper evaluation very difficult. I had personal business in the area -- just a small request from a certain person to look after some young birds -- so I've completed the evaluation in the liaison's stead.
You probably all already know what the results are. As much as I'm sure the doctors here are doing all that they can, the staff ratio at this hospital is clearly outside of the standard guidelines. I'll be staying here as your new physiotherapist until things improve.
Ah, but don't worry! You may not expect it, but I'm actually very skilled. And not just at medicine. ♥ Some of it might be a bit strange at first, especially for all you poor boys who have only known the hands of men -- ah, male doctors -- but there's nothing to be scared of. I'll take very good care of you, girls and boys both. Just think of me as a loving older sister who will do whatever it takes~ to make you feel better, okay?
As for the little group I met on the way in, don't worry~ They were really cute, so I gave them all extra-special treatment. You may think six inches is a bit long for acupuncture needles, but I promise, they're perfectly safe. And the injection before that was very mild. I'm sure they'll be able to start moving again in an hour or two. ♥
Poll Vote!
Character: Faust (Previously known as Dr Baldhead)
Series: Guilty Gear
Character Age: Unknown, thought to be middleaged.
Job: General Wackyness Surgeon.
Canon:
In the year 2010, people discovered magic and used it to create a world free from pollution and fuel-deficits! Yay humanity! But then they used it to create biological slave-weapons called Gears who blew shit up in a century-long war. Boo humanity. Still, the aftermath of said war isn't too bad. Sure, there's strange new Gears popping up left and right, the MYSTEEEERIOUS Post-War Administration Bureau is vying to take control of the world and rule with a shadowy fist, but the average Joe leads a life that's about as good as it's ever been! How unfortunate then for Dr Baldhead, famed surgeon and magician, that he was not your average person.
For when he lost a young girl to what should've been a routine operation, receiving the first blot on his otherwise flawless resume, he kind of took it in a hard way. And by hard way, we mean 'lose all sanity and go on a bloody rampage with casualties numbering in the hundreds'. But he got better! Rising from the din of madness he took on a disguise and now roams the world curing ills and righting wrongs wherever he finds them for free. He is absolution… he is the night… he. Is. FAUST.
Yes, that is a paper bag. And yes, this is an improvement over how he used to be. It is true that Faust is by no means the sanest pea in the pod. He has dedicated himself to working for an absolution he does not believe he will ever find, flip-flops between being an unfailingly polite, mild-mannered doctor and a sadistic, zany Looney Toon with a spear-sized scalpel and a thing for licking people, and despite doing his best to avoid fights and violence he feels no repercussions when he performs 'corrective personality-surgery', e.g. beating the snot out of people until they either see the healing light of his fist or the light at the end of the tunnel (but you're at least always guaranteed to be sewn right back up afterwards!). Despite all this, however, he does genuinely care about life in all shapes and sizes, helping all who come to him for aid no matter who they are or what they've done. He is, putting it simply, a sick man trying to give the world the health and peace he can never have. He just does it with a magical Mary Poppins umbrella, oversized scalpel and shape shifting limbs.
Post:
Okay, we are moving into the final stages of the surgery… miss Schwarts, squirrel. Not the most hygienic way to wipe one's brow, but one makes do with what one has. Needle and thread... very well miss Schwartz, I will need you to hold the eardrum intact while mister Tulism punches De Greer. Thank you. There is a time and a place for quips about the symbolism in sharp things penetrating skin, and right now is NOT one of them. Aaalmost finished… tweezers. No, not me, for miss Schwarts. Poor dear's fingers just fell off inside my bag. None offence taken miss Schwartz, these things happen. Now then, just a few more stitches and clean-up left … water bowl… needle and thread… De Greer's miniskirt, which is NOT suitable for wiping one's brow and which I would appreciate if he kept out of my face, especially now. Miss Schwartz, finish the surgery while Mister Tulism punches De Greer in the face again. Honestly, how a mind that decayed can still retain so many jokes of such poor taste, now THAT is a question for medical science.
… There. It… is done. And to think, to think she said it could not be done! But on this very day I have proven you wrong Miss Sayre- Behold! Behold my revolution, my clenched fist against the narrowminded views of the world and this very camp! Behold this beautiful creature, this landmark in medical surgery ... THE ZOMBOUCAN!
No De Greer, we're not calling it the Toombie. We made a vote of hands and the majority favoured the Zomboucan. And playing that old 'but most of us don't even have hands' card isn't a valid counterargument, there are six here and four full pair of hands between us, and the majority of those voted in favour! End of discussion.
… Indeed, end of discussion, and the beginning of a new era. To think that when I first arrived Miss Sayre claimed that I should turn my back on you: that she had hired me to tend to the campers and the effects of the Unchecked Sensuality Tachyon-radiation was having on them, poor woman, blabbering on about random changes in gender and the plantlife absorbing so much of the stuff that every six months it resulted in 'enforced kissing plants'. Clear-cut case of cabin fever if you ask me, and that treating the poor creatures bound to this place was futile! But I say to you, my cheeky team of edgy and quirky yet relatable medical experts assembled on location, this has not been an exercise in futility! With my hybrid created solely with already available resources I have healed two birds with one band-aid: the zombies need for a functional cerebral cortex is sated by the toucan's extraordinarily powerful mind, and the increased workload on the toucan's brain prevents their UST-induced headaches! This is a solution that will be written about for centuries to come… but I'm afraid it will have to be written without me.
Yes, my good fellows, I am afraid that I must take my leave. I bid you farewell, headstrong and firey yet emotionally tormented miss Schwartz, who so often challenged my beliefs and what I thought I knew but in the end realized you had just been burned so many times you couldn't trust another man until I had arrived, and with whom I shared many disturbing and subtext-infused moments with me. To you, cheeky, quick-witted and flamboyant prankster De Greer, whose zany hyjinxs made the daily grind such a delight to bear, and whose loose sexuality caused so many interesting and tension-producing arguments. And to you, long-suffering yet loyal co-worker Benson, who stood by me in thick and thin despite desires to take the safe and comfortable yet restrictive road in life, and who I am quite disturbed to say I also shared a number of subtext-infused moments with. And finally to you two extra's in the back there. You pretty much only hung around at the surgery scenes, but that's okay, I'm sure someone out there will love you too one day.
You no longer need me. It is time for you to take the credit from this creation and start writing your own stories. Time to stand up to best of your abilities and take your struggle into the light! Make the world aware of who you are, and what you want! Cast aside the blinds of your old world, here symbolized by the literal blinds of this here window and bask in the new world!.... In which a group of zombies in whiteish robes, hoods, plaques proclaiming what I think is the 'Zuperiority of the Zexclusively Zombies Zociety'... now that's just trying too hard to make a name work, and gorillas loading zombies onto catapults and pouring petrol down their throats. That has got to be the most innovative version of a Molotov cocktail I have EVER INCOMING.
Ah, slight change of plans everyone! Strongwilled loveinterest, barricade the doors, trusty long-time friend, help the hybrid into the backroom, quirky transvestite, bring me my supersized scalpel and extras, well, you flop onto the flames and smother them with your own bodies and heroically sacrifice yourself in the process, I dunno. We seem to have encountered some slight resistance to our new world, but that's nothing a little bit of corrective personality surgery won't fix! Now you just be good and don't you worry none. The doctor's still in the house. He just has to make a few... housecalls. ♥
Poll Vote!
... yeah anyway, go vote. |D ♥
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.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. CLOSED.
Character: Riffael Raffit
Series: Cain Saga/Godchild
Character Age: 28
Job: Head of Rent-A-Butler's Camp Fuck You Die Branch
Canon: Cain's a young earl with a passion for poisons and dying women. Riff's a medical student who became a butler when his family died in a fire. Together, they fight crime! (Read as: solve horrific mysteries often involving incest, underage sex, and evisceration.)
Despite his youth and lack of formal training, Riffael Raffit (called Riff) became head butler in no time at all due to being the only servant to befriend young Cain. Riff is kind to a fault; before Cain gave him a reason to live again (cue d'awwwws), he attempted to commit suicide because he blamed himself for his family's death. He is mild, professional, and helpful; he will offer his assistance to anyone in need, and he's quite good with children--after all, he put himself through medical school by teaching children how to box! Despite this kindly persona, though, Riff is just as capable of displaying a much darker side, one that is disturbingly emotionless about killing. After all, anyone who endangers his lord is a threat. . . even his own fiancŽe.
Note: Riff is being apped post-Volume 8.
Sample Post:
Good evening, lords, ladies, and sirs of dubious gender identity. My name is Riffael Raffit, and I am here to fulfill all your buttling needs. I hasten to assure you, as there was some misunderstanding earlier with a lady who had quite grabby fingers that stayed even when the rest of her hand did not, that to buttle is to serve and not to offer one's posterior for inappropriate touching. Nor, I might add, do we serve in the nude, no matter how much of a tip is offered. While it is correct that a butler's motto is to not be heard, we are not to be seen. . . quite that much of. In fact, it would be better if we were neither heard nor seen.
As for my own specialties, I have some experience in valet work, such as assisting with my lord's clothing. In fact, the first thing I did upon my arrival here was to familiarize myself with the laundry machines. I understand they are some sort of new technology, but I am rather curious as to what sort of madman would create such a device to have teeth. Not only do they have teeth, but their bite is just as bad as their bark. Luckily, I was able to subdue the savage machine and rescue the towels from the gaping maw of death, fresh-smelling and well bleached. Thank goodness that the Lady Director's detergent is as good at bloodstain removal as ours back home, despite the rather ominous label on the front. And the green hue the towels now have is rather. . . pretty. In a sickly, rotting way.
I also have some catering experience; although my lord is not fond of hosting large dinner parties, some of the local zombies are. I was honored to oversee their annual Head, Shoulders, Knees, then Toes feast. Despite the perversity of such cannibalism, a butler does have his duties. I am no master of such rituals; what order do the utensils go in if the meal is to be consumed without use of them? Nonetheless, I will be doing my best. It may be a recommendation to my services that I was offered a taste of the eyes, though I did decline. I am just a butler; it is not my place to take part in something like that. And I certainly have no desire to.
Needless to say, I do hope that you, human and demon and undead campers all, will be less tactless in the use of my services. Rent-a-Butler is here to service you, but a man does have his limits, after all. Upon fulfilling my duties, the zombies decided that I, too, would make a delicious meal, and I was forced to defend myself. A butler, after all, must not be helpless, and I do carry around a handkerchief for emergencies such as these. It simply would not do to serve drinks with bloody hands, no matter how varied the diet here.
Poll Vote!
Character: Roland
Character Age: Mid-30's
Series: Digital Devil Saga 2
Job: Inter-Species Relations
Canon: [Spoilers!] Digital Devil Saga is a heart-warming tale of cannibalistic demons on a never-ending quest to save the world from their girlfriend. Each game is set in a different world: the main party starts out in the Junkyard, a warzone of perpetual rain where warring tribes are forced to fight and devour each other in an effort to reach Nirvana. In Digital Devil Saga 2, however, it turns out that everything thus far has been a lie of Matrix proportions. Revealed to be AIs created by the Cyber Shaman, the Nirvana everyone had hoped for was nothing more than the deeply polluted real world, cursed by God. However, having managed to emerge as flesh-and-blood into the real world, the party sets about saving humanity from the Karma Society. And Sera. And God. Well, shit.
Enter Roland: the bitter, sarcastic, alcoholic leader of the Lokapala, a terrorist organization opposed to the Karma Society and their genius plan to turn "chosen" people into demons so they can live under the cursed Sun, and to hell with the rest of humanity-they're lunch! Roland is just a normal kind of guy, alcoholism and terrorism aside, described by his ward as "kind of a loser," which is actually pretty apt. However, after getting bitchsmacked around from some pissed-off AIs and having the futility of his honorless life tossed back in his face, Roland cleans up his act, sobering up and injecting himself with the demon virus. With a new lease on life after becoming a cannibal demon (. . .), Roland proves himself to be an honorable and loyal ally, fiercely devoted to protecting his comrades. A failed author, Roland is clever and well-spoken, with a dry, understated way of expressing himself that occasionally borders on self-depreciation. Roland is one of the few in the game that understands the true nature of karma-with that and his guilt complex over his best friend's death, it's no wonder he turned to drink.
Sample Post:
. . . well, I suppose this is just karma, after all.
Good afternoon to all of you. My name is Roland-apparently, I am to be your Inter-Species Relations adviser. I am taking that to mean encouraging cooperation and understanding between demons and humans, but if there are any other concerns or questions you might have regarding other species or other, er, relations . . . I suppose you might as well ask. My instructions advise that I counsel you on any concerns that "won't get you banned from 4chan," though I can't promise to be of much help. If someone could explain to me what that means, to begin with, it might get us off on a better start. Though I somehow doubt it.
Jurisdiction aside, however, I have a few notes it has been suggested we start on. Call them recommendations, if you will:
1. The cannibal demons do not always want to eat you. Sometimes they're full. By which I mean, ah, although the demons might want to eat you most of the time, just as you would probably always want to eat, say, a delicious hamburger, you would be able to control yourself from eating the hamburger if it wasn't yours to eat. The same thing goes for demons. Not . . . that I am comparing you to hamburgers. It's a metaphor.
2. Ask questions first, shoot later. Unlike zombies, although demons might look frightful, they are capable of reasoning. Except for the times when they aren't. In which case, I would advise you to shoot first, or perhaps run first, or run while shooting. You should be able to tell when a demon is capable of being reasoned with. If you cannot . . . perhaps you might want to negotiate from a distance, for your own peace of mind. And ours.
3. Be tolerant of other peoples' lifestyles. After all, for most demons, cannibalism is a necessity rather than a choice, just as being a demon isn't something they had any measure of conscious control over. That is, most of the time. There are those that made the choice willingly, but consider that they may have had reasons that transcended the uncomfortable reality of eating others. And of course there are those who do enjoy eating others, but-. . . let's just move on.
In any case, I believe that covers enough for discussion's sake. Apparently I'll be having an assistant for a demonstration of sorts, down by the lake. Does anybody know a Ms. Marcy? Her seminar is entitled, "Learning To Embrace Your Inner Demon: And Embracing Your Demon's Inner-"
. . . I'm not drunk enough for this.
Poll Vote!
Character:Shawn Spencer
Series: Psych
Character Age: 28
Job: Psychic Detective
Canon: Psych is about Shawn Spencer and the use of his amazing fantastic memory powers. Trained as a child by his father (and rather secretive about it), he lied to the Santa Barbara Police Department that he was in fact, psychic! Forced to keep up the charade and discovering he rather enjoyed being a fake psychic detective, he created his own agency with his bestest best friend/partner/sidekick/Magichead Gus and had many fake-psychic-ey adventures, much to the chagrin of Detective Lassiter who wants nothing better than to make Shawn's life a living hell.
Shawn is the "guy who never learned to grow up" and the guy "who abuses grand exposition". In short, he likes to ham it up and ramble off-topic quite often. He's rash, impulsive and prone to shooting off movie references. Rather flighty and very charismatic, he can charm the ladies and drive the men up the wall quite literally. A tad bit inconsiderate and egoistic at times, Shawn does want to help you. And you. With randomly appearing pineapples, preferably.
Note - Lassie is Shawn's personal nickname for Detective Carlton Lassiter.
Sample Post:
Lassie-face, I appreciate that you went through all this trouble to send me here. You really didn't have to hand-cuff me to my seat on the plane. And I, Shawn Spencer, psychic detective extraordinaire and part-time zombie linguist all those years of re-watching the Night of the Living Dead have paid off, have come to help camp in its time of need, and will have this mystery solved in two days! Why two? Because it's a mystic number, my friends. Do not doubt the twos. Always doubt the threes. One simply does not use a three for mystic purposes. There is evil there that does not sleep. Or snore. Well. You get the picture.
Now really, you all didn't need to stand up and clap for my little speech! I'm just doing the right thing. And the right thing is me helping you to get your freedom! To save this camp! To make sure your, yes, your arm is in the right socket. Here, let me get that for you. It's no problem, it's what I do. Wait...Maybe it should be 'It's what I do?'. Or perhaps 'It's...what I do?'. Huh. I guess the latter works best for dramatic effect and science fiction sitcoms. So, first off, I need all the details about the mysterious murder of Mister mysterious Stephen....mystery. Yes, you heard me. Now, chop chop! Man, this stuff was easier to do when Gus was around. Perhaps I should see if anyone is interested in the job of "being Berton Mcgrumpypants Gus".
Oh hey, you're back! Here, have a free pineapple. It's on the house. What? Where did it come from? Have you learned nothing? You never question free food. Just accept it for what it is. A pineapple. So, what did you find? The tentacle monster in the lake has something to do with this fiendish crime?! Good job, my short, young, decomposing man! I am very proud of you. In fact, I think I shall call you Mini-Gus. You shall be the Fezzik to my Montoya, the Robin to my Batman, the cheese to my butterbiscuit! Or is that butter to my biscuit? Anyway, after this job is done Mini-Gus, I'm sure you can come back to Santa Barbara with me and we can relax with some lemonade and TiVo.
What? We can't leave this place? And people have been trapped here for years?! We are talking human years here and not zombie years, right? Juuuuust checking!
Okay...So make that two and a half days! But not three, cause threes are evil.
Poll Vote!
Character: Sawada 'Maman' Nana
Series: Reborn! [Manga]
Character Age: 34
Canon: Serious poll, who's dreamed of being married to the mob? Well, Sawada Nana did more than just dream. Yep, she's every inch the classic mafia wife. Stays at home to look after the kids while darling hubby is out tending to the business, rarely bats an eye at the mayhem that plagues her home daily, even encourages her son, the reluctant future boss of the family! Oh, but. There is the thing where she's incredibly oblivious and doesn't seem to realize any of this has a thing to do with the mob. This doesn't make her any less of a good mother, of course. She does love her son and wants him to be successful and happy with his life. If she happens to casually diss him every now and then, even to his Biggest Crush™, well. It's motivational, right? He'll prove her wrong one day, for sure. She's also sure to keep him informed about things important to his life. Like, for example, the fact that his father disappeared without a trace for two years! Except that was a total lie and he was really just overseas. But it's okay since it was much more romantic to say he was missing, of course.
Seriously though. She's a good woman who manages an often chaotic mafia household with very little trouble; most problems are brushed off as rambunctious fighting of children. Yes, even mafia-caused explosions. She's thrilled her son's been making so many new friends and never has a problem with making them snacks when they drop by or checking on them if she notices they're looking down. And those kids that just moved themselves into her home? Not a problem either! In fact, she'll just claim those kids as her own. In front of a classroom full of Tsuna's peers and their parents. Nevermind the implications of none of them looking a thing alike. (Of course, the second those kids get into trouble she brushes all responsibility for them onto Tsuna.)
So. Great mom or greatest mom?
Job Idea: Camp Mom
Sample Post: Wow~ This is a really impressive horror camp, isn't it? All the attractions are so realistic -- you really get a strong sense of terror from them. Why, I set one of them off the other day. I feel silly saying this, but for a few minutes I was sure I wouldn't make it to my first day of work! Who'd have thought that trees could move like that? Going right for your throat . . . My, it seemed so dangerous. It's a good thing that nice security man in the gorilla costume pulled me out of the way. I wonder if the director hires from the same company as my home town? He was wearing the same kind of suit, and he was just as polite as those nice gentlemen always are. It's so nice to see such dedicated workers -- I never seem to have any troubles when they're around. ♥
--My job? Oh, that's right! I almost forgot! I've just been hired as the official camp mother for this camp. The other counselors need to be able to focus on big problems, so I'm going to be here to help with any day to day troubles that you might have. You can ask me for anything from helping settle an argument to getting those zombie stains out of your shirt. I found this amazing cleaning solution in the mess hall that takes care of them quicker than you can blink! I'll have to ask the kitchen staff where they store it though. I haven't been able to find any since Tuesday . . .
But don't think that I'm just here to wait around on one of you to have some kind of problem either! It would be too boring doing that, and this is supposed to be a summer camp, right? We should do something fun together so we can get to know each other! I've heard there's an amazing laser show that you can see at the volcano, so I thought it would be a good idea to hike out there and get good spots for it. Or, even better, maybe they'll have an eruption! Wouldn't that be romantic? Kyaa~ Just thinking about it gives me shivers! ♥ Just think, being held by the one you love while the mountain explodes~ If only my husband were here . . . Hm? Oh, don't look so worried~! It's just another one of the attractions, so I'm sure it'll be safe if it erupts. They've got to have safeguards in a camp this big or else they'd never be able to keep it running. Remember, they have all those nicely dressed gorilla-men around! I always see them working on movie sets at home, and they've never had any trouble during stunt shoots with explosions even bigger than these!
Haah, but I suppose if it really worries you so much we can do something simple instead. Making cookies is a good way to get to know each other, right? Why don't we make some gingerbread cookies to decorate? We might not have real sugar, but I did find these cute gorilla shaped cutters. Let's hurry and get the dough made so we can bake them quickly, alright? First the butter and splenda, then the eggs, and now the rest . . . There! And now we just cut and put them in to bake! Now, what should we do while we-- Hm? They're trying to escape? Oh, don't be silly, they're only cookies. Are you really sure?
Oh wow! They really are moving around in there! Well . . . that's amazing! You shouldn't be so worried by this. I thought it was only my no good son who'd be troubled by something like this, but I guess I must have been wrong. I was sure you'd all be old enough to know something like this was pretend. It must be a some kind of movie in the oven window, right? The director must be an incredibly creative woman; she really does think of everything. ♥
Poll Vote!
Character name: Citrine
Series: Xenosaga (Ep. III)
Age: 27
Job: Camp P.M.S. (Psionic Mentality Specialist)
Canon: Note: Application contains some spoilers for the whole series.
Citrine is one of the only four living U.R.T.V.s; number 668 out of 669 mutated clone bioweapons, created by Dmitri Yuriev. Their main objective was to kill a being from a higher dimension which jeopardized the galaxy.
The female types were created by Yuriev with the intention of keeping the genetic code from breaking down over generations of cloning. They were also theorized to have been genetically superior to the male types, making her a bit sexist toward her brothers.
Citrine possesses the dual purpose of killing her older, number 666, brother if his own potentially dangerous powers went out of control. Outwardly apathetic and sadistic, she takes pride in surpassing others and exerts a conscious effort to keep her emotions suppressed. She obeys her creator unquestioningly, and views herself the same as he does: an instrument of war, instead of a normal person.
Sample Entry: Greetings, delinquents. You all may call me Citrine. My purpose here is to assist Dr. Elizabeth Sayre in studying those of you with latent or active psychic abilities, such as psychokinesis or telepathy, while implementing a variety of examinations and laboratory research. It would seem that there are obvious reasons why those of you with certain "talents" are here... this is a large scale murder investigation. My predominant occupation in this area is to help you all explore your powers, at your discretion, and to collect data on what you can do and how you progress. While I realize that some of you may find Ms. Sayre's methods questionable, one should assume that seeing your lover dismembered would have a very depressing effect.
I must admit that this wasn't my conception of a position I would ever consider; inheriting a summer camp full of rowdy teenagers to reprimand. Before we begin open sessions, I'm going to point out that I don't want anyone bitching about my implementation of corporal punishment, because children get spanked. Never allow yourselves to forget: one of you is a monster, and the rest of you could seemingly do very well with a few thwacks to the head to improve your outlooks. Please address performance complaints to my inbox, and messages deemed worthy of ridicule or spell-check will be duly noted, numbered and disposed of.
A major facet of my research here will be to deduce whether or not there is a biological reason for the diverse range of psychic abilities many of you possess, as well as possible physical byproducts. So, by all means, those of you who have powers that you are unsure of, or are beyond your control, are urged to pay me a visit as soon as possible. I do hope you don't mind electrodes, needles, or possible combat simulations, although some research will be put off until I find whoever replaced my PDA with a banana-shaped cellular phone. As it stands, the next subject-- that is to say, camper, who raises their voice while inside mine and father's labs will forcefully receive an acid pop. Masochistic candy... presumably some form of self-torture. And while I possess a variety of nanomachine treatments to repair corrosive tissue damage, you'll do well to remember the pain factor.
Please, do mind your tongues while I'm trying to concentrate.
Poll Vote!
Character name: Makigami Ine
Series: Air Gear
Age: Unspecified; appears mid/late twenties
Job: Physiotherapist
Canon: Better. Faster. Higher. From rollerskates to rollerblades, and finally to Air Trek; inline skates with motors for speed and air cushions for impact built right into the wheels, allowing people to come one step closer to touching the sky. Though adopted equally by casual and professional sports, it's in the back alleys, as the sun sets, where A-T truly find their home -- where teams of 'storm riders', the most extreme of extreme A-T users, come together and compete in 'parts wars' for rank, territory, and pride. Air Gear follows the ongoing story of Minami Ikki, a boy who starts out a street punk middle schooler and ends up... well, a street punk on wheels, but wheels that, bit by bit, he's slowly making into his wings.
During the day, Ine is every inch a professional woman. Accent on the 'woman' part of that -- with her preference for miniskirts, four-inch stiletto heels, and necklines that drop deep into her (more than) ample cleavage, there's no way she'd let you forget. Director of the local private hospital, she's competent, authoritative, and more than capable of holding her own -- both with her cantankerous and headstrong staff, and with the occasional troublesome skirt-flipping patient (nothing stops a pervert in his tracks like a casual four-inch heel to the forehead). Night, however, brings out a totally different side. Nicknamed 'Makigai', lit. 'spiral shellfish', for her unique cone-like updo, she's a world-famous A-T tuner; a specialized mechanic who studies a rider and adjusts their A-T to best match the strengths of their body. While she can still become professional at a moment's notice, this side of her is often playful and affectionate, especially with cute younger folk (i.e., she's known to be a bit of a pedo). She's definitely one of the best doctors for treating A-T related injuries, but with a bag of tricks that includes surprise syringes filled with paralyzing drugs and acupuncture needles long enough to go straight through a person's leg, prevention is definitely preferable to the cure.
I must say, when I asked a those children in the waiting room for directions to your hospital's record room, I hadn't been expecting such an interesting read. Cases of muscle strain, bruising, and mental shock from outdoor aquatic activities. Frequent reports of gastrointestinal upset, with most cases occurring around a single day of the week. Irritability, groin strain, and over-development of wrist muscles. Resurrection sickness. Accounts of injuries that extend from 'walking into a door' to 'blasted out of a live volcano'. And finally, frequent reports of serious lacerations to hands, shoulders, cheeks, thighs and sides with nothing but post-it notes stating 'I put a band-aid on it' as documentation for proper rest and recovery.
I had heard that the state of American health care was in decline, but leaving an outbreak of shounenosus ultratardus unattended for this long is ludicrous.
Mmm, but the rest of that can wait. Hello, everyone. My name is Makigami Ine, and I was sent here by your hospital's partner branch to make sure that everything here was running according to standard. There have been a few complaints, and some months ago this facility was scheduled for investigation by a qualified Gender Inequality Reassessment Liaison. But, try as your board might, the lack of GIRLs in the area has made a proper evaluation very difficult. I had personal business in the area -- just a small request from a certain person to look after some young birds -- so I've completed the evaluation in the liaison's stead.
You probably all already know what the results are. As much as I'm sure the doctors here are doing all that they can, the staff ratio at this hospital is clearly outside of the standard guidelines. I'll be staying here as your new physiotherapist until things improve.
Ah, but don't worry! You may not expect it, but I'm actually very skilled. And not just at medicine. ♥ Some of it might be a bit strange at first, especially for all you poor boys who have only known the hands of men -- ah, male doctors -- but there's nothing to be scared of. I'll take very good care of you, girls and boys both. Just think of me as a loving older sister who will do whatever it takes~ to make you feel better, okay?
As for the little group I met on the way in, don't worry~ They were really cute, so I gave them all extra-special treatment. You may think six inches is a bit long for acupuncture needles, but I promise, they're perfectly safe. And the injection before that was very mild. I'm sure they'll be able to start moving again in an hour or two. ♥
Poll Vote!
Character: Faust (Previously known as Dr Baldhead)
Series: Guilty Gear
Character Age: Unknown, thought to be middleaged.
Job: General Wackyness Surgeon.
Canon:
In the year 2010, people discovered magic and used it to create a world free from pollution and fuel-deficits! Yay humanity! But then they used it to create biological slave-weapons called Gears who blew shit up in a century-long war. Boo humanity. Still, the aftermath of said war isn't too bad. Sure, there's strange new Gears popping up left and right, the MYSTEEEERIOUS Post-War Administration Bureau is vying to take control of the world and rule with a shadowy fist, but the average Joe leads a life that's about as good as it's ever been! How unfortunate then for Dr Baldhead, famed surgeon and magician, that he was not your average person.
For when he lost a young girl to what should've been a routine operation, receiving the first blot on his otherwise flawless resume, he kind of took it in a hard way. And by hard way, we mean 'lose all sanity and go on a bloody rampage with casualties numbering in the hundreds'. But he got better! Rising from the din of madness he took on a disguise and now roams the world curing ills and righting wrongs wherever he finds them for free. He is absolution… he is the night… he. Is. FAUST.
Yes, that is a paper bag. And yes, this is an improvement over how he used to be. It is true that Faust is by no means the sanest pea in the pod. He has dedicated himself to working for an absolution he does not believe he will ever find, flip-flops between being an unfailingly polite, mild-mannered doctor and a sadistic, zany Looney Toon with a spear-sized scalpel and a thing for licking people, and despite doing his best to avoid fights and violence he feels no repercussions when he performs 'corrective personality-surgery', e.g. beating the snot out of people until they either see the healing light of his fist or the light at the end of the tunnel (but you're at least always guaranteed to be sewn right back up afterwards!). Despite all this, however, he does genuinely care about life in all shapes and sizes, helping all who come to him for aid no matter who they are or what they've done. He is, putting it simply, a sick man trying to give the world the health and peace he can never have. He just does it with a magical Mary Poppins umbrella, oversized scalpel and shape shifting limbs.
Post:
Okay, we are moving into the final stages of the surgery… miss Schwarts, squirrel. Not the most hygienic way to wipe one's brow, but one makes do with what one has. Needle and thread... very well miss Schwartz, I will need you to hold the eardrum intact while mister Tulism punches De Greer. Thank you. There is a time and a place for quips about the symbolism in sharp things penetrating skin, and right now is NOT one of them. Aaalmost finished… tweezers. No, not me, for miss Schwarts. Poor dear's fingers just fell off inside my bag. None offence taken miss Schwartz, these things happen. Now then, just a few more stitches and clean-up left … water bowl… needle and thread… De Greer's miniskirt, which is NOT suitable for wiping one's brow and which I would appreciate if he kept out of my face, especially now. Miss Schwartz, finish the surgery while Mister Tulism punches De Greer in the face again. Honestly, how a mind that decayed can still retain so many jokes of such poor taste, now THAT is a question for medical science.
… There. It… is done. And to think, to think she said it could not be done! But on this very day I have proven you wrong Miss Sayre- Behold! Behold my revolution, my clenched fist against the narrowminded views of the world and this very camp! Behold this beautiful creature, this landmark in medical surgery ... THE ZOMBOUCAN!
No De Greer, we're not calling it the Toombie. We made a vote of hands and the majority favoured the Zomboucan. And playing that old 'but most of us don't even have hands' card isn't a valid counterargument, there are six here and four full pair of hands between us, and the majority of those voted in favour! End of discussion.
… Indeed, end of discussion, and the beginning of a new era. To think that when I first arrived Miss Sayre claimed that I should turn my back on you: that she had hired me to tend to the campers and the effects of the Unchecked Sensuality Tachyon-radiation was having on them, poor woman, blabbering on about random changes in gender and the plantlife absorbing so much of the stuff that every six months it resulted in 'enforced kissing plants'. Clear-cut case of cabin fever if you ask me, and that treating the poor creatures bound to this place was futile! But I say to you, my cheeky team of edgy and quirky yet relatable medical experts assembled on location, this has not been an exercise in futility! With my hybrid created solely with already available resources I have healed two birds with one band-aid: the zombies need for a functional cerebral cortex is sated by the toucan's extraordinarily powerful mind, and the increased workload on the toucan's brain prevents their UST-induced headaches! This is a solution that will be written about for centuries to come… but I'm afraid it will have to be written without me.
Yes, my good fellows, I am afraid that I must take my leave. I bid you farewell, headstrong and firey yet emotionally tormented miss Schwartz, who so often challenged my beliefs and what I thought I knew but in the end realized you had just been burned so many times you couldn't trust another man until I had arrived, and with whom I shared many disturbing and subtext-infused moments with me. To you, cheeky, quick-witted and flamboyant prankster De Greer, whose zany hyjinxs made the daily grind such a delight to bear, and whose loose sexuality caused so many interesting and tension-producing arguments. And to you, long-suffering yet loyal co-worker Benson, who stood by me in thick and thin despite desires to take the safe and comfortable yet restrictive road in life, and who I am quite disturbed to say I also shared a number of subtext-infused moments with. And finally to you two extra's in the back there. You pretty much only hung around at the surgery scenes, but that's okay, I'm sure someone out there will love you too one day.
You no longer need me. It is time for you to take the credit from this creation and start writing your own stories. Time to stand up to best of your abilities and take your struggle into the light! Make the world aware of who you are, and what you want! Cast aside the blinds of your old world, here symbolized by the literal blinds of this here window and bask in the new world!.... In which a group of zombies in whiteish robes, hoods, plaques proclaiming what I think is the 'Zuperiority of the Zexclusively Zombies Zociety'... now that's just trying too hard to make a name work, and gorillas loading zombies onto catapults and pouring petrol down their throats. That has got to be the most innovative version of a Molotov cocktail I have EVER INCOMING.
Ah, slight change of plans everyone! Strongwilled loveinterest, barricade the doors, trusty long-time friend, help the hybrid into the backroom, quirky transvestite, bring me my supersized scalpel and extras, well, you flop onto the flames and smother them with your own bodies and heroically sacrifice yourself in the process, I dunno. We seem to have encountered some slight resistance to our new world, but that's nothing a little bit of corrective personality surgery won't fix! Now you just be good and don't you worry none. The doctor's still in the house. He just has to make a few... housecalls. ♥
Poll Vote!