Post-Route47 Application / Character Info Sheet
Player Name: Lynn (notforked)
Timezone: EST (Canada)
Character: Edgar Holloway
Series: The Pack (OC)
Age: 21 (d.o.b. Dec 19th 2000; his world's date = the real OOC date +11 years)
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Appearance: http://x1e.xanga.com/e81c05f203533160619616/z120839234.png
Edgar is roughly 6'0" and relatively fit (active-lifestyle gets-in-fights never-seen-a-working-car-or-elevator fit, not pumps-iron fit), scruffy, rugged and aggressive looking, usually unshowered. He's blonde-haired and blue-eyed and has a big gang tattoo (ink) on his back and simplistic 'W's on the backs of his hands in scarification.
Reality Description:
Picture a near-future world that looks superficially like the one presented in I am Legend, minus the zombies and with a few more people. In 2021, the world is not empty, but with only a sixteenth of the planet's 2008 population still living, the once bustling cities each feel like a yawning, cavernous vacuum of uninhabited space. But before we go forward, let's rewind: It's been about two years since the very last of the infected died off; six years since the UN declared a state of pandemic; seven years since the first traces of the rapidly evolving, highly contagious, symptomless "invisible" infectious disease were proven scientifically; eight years since the first questions were raised in the public eye,
Why are otherwise healthy people falling dead in their tracks?
It's hard to pinpoint where society first began to dissolve in an official way; it really depends on your perspective of the situation. Ask many people, the general public, and they would say it began when the invisible plague seemed to make the leap from their TV screens to their living rooms. It seemed at home enough when it was limited to high density urban slums in south america, but fear has a way of slipping in through your pores when, suddenly, it's got your manager's boss, or uncle's best friend, or grandma's third-cousin, and you worry maybe your sister shouldn't take that trip to mexico, but (fortunately or unfortunately) she calls to tell you they've shut down all airports for the sake of national security. For a homeless old man in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, it began when he became the first to contract the lethal form of the illness, and died, quiet and symptomless on a sunny afternoon in august of 2012. You will never know his name, because nobody does. The first news story was an unremarkable one, one of those that makes some people tilt their heads and ask one another, "whoa, isn't that strange?" "how did a family of six pass away so suddenly within a week of each other?" and "where should we go for lunch today?" At this point, only those with a good memory for meaningless media turn and nudge each other, remember the forty-five second story, laugh, "man, if only we knew then what we know now." People have moved on. They used to ask, "why not us, why are we immune?" and "where did this come from?" And sometimes they still do.
But mostly, people are tired of those questions.
Mass media is essentially gone. Government, while it (kind of) exists, has been exposed for how inherently powerless it is when people realize they really have no reason to obey, and the lack of media has predictably crippled it further. Many and most of the world leaders have died, if not from the invisible plague then from the ensuing chaos. There is no control. The smallest and most isolated populations of the world go on as they have, untouched and unexposed, with varying degrees of awareness about the fate of the world around them. There are hubs of peace, where survivors have gathered together and pioneer their own new ways of life, form their own small analogues of government and society.
Everywhere else, it's gone feral.
Our boy lives in the west end of Toronto, where, like most larger cities now, the "law" depends on what pack you run with and your "family" is your gang. It's a dog-eat-dog world.
History: For reference, the IC-world date at the time of this application (april 2011) is now 2022.
About two decades ago, in Yellowknife's Stanton Territorial Hospital, NWT, Canada, Edgar was born out of wedlock, the son of a single mother and her f-buddy. The father didn't want anything to do with Edgar, really, but at least he paid his child support and visited once in a while, until his mother took Edgar and left. She was generally a strong figure, intelligent and self-assured, if carelessly impulsive and prone to sudden, nearly unprovoked bouts of stormier moods. Directly following the worst of these was when she'd tell him that now is the time to start over, and they would pick up and go. He was three when they left Yellowknife, migrating in turn to the west coast and through Canadian prairies before landing in Toronto. International travel was already a thing of the past when he and his mother arrived due to borders closing in fear of the plague, and they happened to catch the last train going just about anywhere in Canada. Edgar was fourteen. The lack of public transportation, however, was a small challenge to mount when pandemic was called, and less than a year later, his mother rented a car she would never return, so that they could leave the high population city and live somewhere more isolated. This did not last especially long; four months living in Stratford, Ontario, one of their neighbours died, suddenly and without warning.
It took the town quickly. This was about the time that scientists realized that it was true that the disease inhabits your body nearly a week before your heart stops; it didn't matter much that people scattered from the sites of infection. In fact, it probably did more harm than good. His mother died in February of 2017. He was sixteen.
Edgar, unknowingly, was immune. He carried a muted version of the plague, silent and dormant in his system. Two others in Stratford also survived. The world was quieter now, and Emma Novikov, Carson Buckley, and Edgar set off for Toronto to look for others. They were shortly adopted into a gang that called itself the Pack. Initially loose and scrappy, the Pack was brought together by Wolf, whose commanding presence afforded him an air of authority. In addition to the violent inter-gang battles for turf and, more importantly, food and supplies, what was left of the Government continued to occasionally send in coordinated raids to attempt to gain control of the situation.
In early 2021, everything changed for Edgar.
He woke up in a furnished, 1950's style motel room in a bizarre place called Cicero. Much like the Astral Plane, it was a gateway between universes. (There's some serious meta going on here, as in the context of R.S. now Cicero could be considered part of Edgar's universe... and by extension all the connected universes are as well. Universes within universes?! Anyway...) Using a key that appeared on his bedside, he could return to the eerily empty 1950's town at will, as well as appear back home in his own universe at any door he'd ever been to before. Time was frozen while he was gone, providing him with an "instant" form of transportation. It appeared to his gang-mates that he ceased eating or sleeping, as he would consistently do so in Cicero to save supplies, keep safe and maximize his time in the "real" world. It was in Cicero that he met Ea, a blue-haired rapscallion from a different universe, but one that was as apocalyptic as his (but with zombies). He invited her to come live in his world, which, while violent, was not crawling with the Undead, and the two of them formed a relationship. Many others in Cicero influenced him, but he made more enemies than friends. I won't go into it here because this is probably already tl;dr.
The "political" world of gangs was, meanwhile, constantly changing. A gang leader by the name of Roc began asserting himself and his gang as a new-world government; though no one took this lying down, the strength and coordination of his gang was a force to be reckoned with. Wide-patrols of pseudo-armed "guards" began violently enforcing curfews. Many complied out of fear or were crushed with force. By this point, Edgar and Ea's ability to "teleport" was something of a glorified urban legend, and Roc sought to make graphic displays of the two. That is, until Edgar "teleported" into his sleeping quarters and assassinated him.
Roc's death is widely talked about as Edgar and Ea's doing, but there is no evidence. The Pack swiftly became the largest, most powerful, and most well-fed gang in Toronto after Roc's followers scattered, bolstered by the "teleporters" ability to magically stage impossible surprise attacks and somehow steal well-guarded supplies. The Government continues to stage raids into the city, and are quite aware of Edgar and Ea's status as near-supernatural icons to the city's feral gangmembers. The Government also has taken several smaller towns/villages in southern Ontario and begun to rebuilt society in those pockets, albeit under authoritarian martial law. Within the Pack, unrest is stirring as people defer their obedience from the leader, Wolf, to Edgar; Wolf is distrustful of Ea and wonders if she is shaping Edgar's plans, and suspects Edgar intends to usurp rule and create some sort of society.
Truthfully, Edgar's happy as a fat cat right now and has no such plans for the future.
Psychology: Edgar has no manners. It's not that he's a bad guy -- he just lives in a very different social culture than you or I. Although a bit of a knucklehead, he was relatively polite growing up (for a preteen boy, anyway) and often won the favour of adults despite making himself a bit of a nuisance and class clown. Now, as an adult after the "apocalypse," to someone living in the ooc western Real World, Edgar seems aggressive, unreasonable, narrowminded, vulgar and inconsiderate. Basically, he comes off as a dick who finds himself funnier than he really is. These things are not exactly untrue. He could be called laid-back for how little things genuinely get under his skin, and his laissez-faire, everything-is-funny attitude towards life in general, but he could also be called high-strung for how quickly he will interpret what may be normal or playfully antagonistic behaviour as a threat. He doesn't believe in an eye-for-an-eye; he's the kind of guy who will hit back twice as hard, so you'll never try that again. That said, he usually knows enough not to pick a fight he can't win. A great deal of this is a direct product of the environment in which he lives, where aggression -- being respected and feared -- is genuinely necessary for survival (unless you're protected, alternatively, but Edgar isn't quite the type to inspire nurturing instincts in most people).
At his core, he's a well-meaning, almost-personable but guarded flirt, more-or-less good natured but with a powerful sense of us versus them. In that realm, he sees in black and white. With "us" is where his kind-streak shines through: he still acts a bit like a troll, but it's almost pathological how far he'll go in the name of those he considers "his." He throws himself very, very deeply into herd-mentality. His only solid, long-lasting personal connection growing up was with his mother, and having witnessed her sudden and terrifying death as a teenager, he is both afraid of attachment and deeply starving for it. Almost paradoxically, his inexperience and aversion to attachment makes him something of a nester; it hooks him body and soul. He'd describe himself as individualistic, which seems fitting to him because he recognizes his own affinity for emotional distance, but he is almost entirely wrong. The combination of these characteristics -- his (perhaps false) persona of being "his own person," mixed with his passionate entanglement with the gang and group mentality -- makes him something of an accidental leader of his Pack, which is not something he consciously desires. He lacks much ambition in terms of acquiring/maintaining power, but feels an obligation to do everything in his power for the gang and has semi-unwillingly ended up in that position nonetheless.
Other Skills/Abilities: As a consequence of certain sort of "supernatural" opportunities he's had that the rest of his reality is not exposed to, he's a good deal more fit and healthy than the majority of people living in the city and so has a huge advantage within his own reality. Outside the scope of his own world, however, he's pretty unremarkable; scrappy, adept at hand-to-hand and small-weapon fighting, self defense, good at interpreting aggressive body-language, but certainly nothing superhuman. He's just a regular dude.
Other Weaknesses: Just a regular guy. No known allergies. He gets the hiccups sometimes.
*Note: He is a carrier of the dormant phase of the "plague" that wiped out his world, so feel free to sense that or whatever, but it is only contagious to humans specifically from his reality (the remainder of which are mostly immune).
Timezone: EST (Canada)
Character: Edgar Holloway
Series: The Pack (OC)
Age: 21 (d.o.b. Dec 19th 2000; his world's date = the real OOC date +11 years)
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Appearance: http://x1e.xanga.com/e81c05f203533160619616/z120839234.png
Edgar is roughly 6'0" and relatively fit (active-lifestyle gets-in-fights never-seen-a-working-car-or-elevator fit, not pumps-iron fit), scruffy, rugged and aggressive looking, usually unshowered. He's blonde-haired and blue-eyed and has a big gang tattoo (ink) on his back and simplistic 'W's on the backs of his hands in scarification.
Reality Description:
Picture a near-future world that looks superficially like the one presented in I am Legend, minus the zombies and with a few more people. In 2021, the world is not empty, but with only a sixteenth of the planet's 2008 population still living, the once bustling cities each feel like a yawning, cavernous vacuum of uninhabited space. But before we go forward, let's rewind: It's been about two years since the very last of the infected died off; six years since the UN declared a state of pandemic; seven years since the first traces of the rapidly evolving, highly contagious, symptomless "invisible" infectious disease were proven scientifically; eight years since the first questions were raised in the public eye,
Why are otherwise healthy people falling dead in their tracks?
It's hard to pinpoint where society first began to dissolve in an official way; it really depends on your perspective of the situation. Ask many people, the general public, and they would say it began when the invisible plague seemed to make the leap from their TV screens to their living rooms. It seemed at home enough when it was limited to high density urban slums in south america, but fear has a way of slipping in through your pores when, suddenly, it's got your manager's boss, or uncle's best friend, or grandma's third-cousin, and you worry maybe your sister shouldn't take that trip to mexico, but (fortunately or unfortunately) she calls to tell you they've shut down all airports for the sake of national security. For a homeless old man in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, it began when he became the first to contract the lethal form of the illness, and died, quiet and symptomless on a sunny afternoon in august of 2012. You will never know his name, because nobody does. The first news story was an unremarkable one, one of those that makes some people tilt their heads and ask one another, "whoa, isn't that strange?" "how did a family of six pass away so suddenly within a week of each other?" and "where should we go for lunch today?" At this point, only those with a good memory for meaningless media turn and nudge each other, remember the forty-five second story, laugh, "man, if only we knew then what we know now." People have moved on. They used to ask, "why not us, why are we immune?" and "where did this come from?" And sometimes they still do.
But mostly, people are tired of those questions.
Mass media is essentially gone. Government, while it (kind of) exists, has been exposed for how inherently powerless it is when people realize they really have no reason to obey, and the lack of media has predictably crippled it further. Many and most of the world leaders have died, if not from the invisible plague then from the ensuing chaos. There is no control. The smallest and most isolated populations of the world go on as they have, untouched and unexposed, with varying degrees of awareness about the fate of the world around them. There are hubs of peace, where survivors have gathered together and pioneer their own new ways of life, form their own small analogues of government and society.
Everywhere else, it's gone feral.
Our boy lives in the west end of Toronto, where, like most larger cities now, the "law" depends on what pack you run with and your "family" is your gang. It's a dog-eat-dog world.
History: For reference, the IC-world date at the time of this application (april 2011) is now 2022.
About two decades ago, in Yellowknife's Stanton Territorial Hospital, NWT, Canada, Edgar was born out of wedlock, the son of a single mother and her f-buddy. The father didn't want anything to do with Edgar, really, but at least he paid his child support and visited once in a while, until his mother took Edgar and left. She was generally a strong figure, intelligent and self-assured, if carelessly impulsive and prone to sudden, nearly unprovoked bouts of stormier moods. Directly following the worst of these was when she'd tell him that now is the time to start over, and they would pick up and go. He was three when they left Yellowknife, migrating in turn to the west coast and through Canadian prairies before landing in Toronto. International travel was already a thing of the past when he and his mother arrived due to borders closing in fear of the plague, and they happened to catch the last train going just about anywhere in Canada. Edgar was fourteen. The lack of public transportation, however, was a small challenge to mount when pandemic was called, and less than a year later, his mother rented a car she would never return, so that they could leave the high population city and live somewhere more isolated. This did not last especially long; four months living in Stratford, Ontario, one of their neighbours died, suddenly and without warning.
It took the town quickly. This was about the time that scientists realized that it was true that the disease inhabits your body nearly a week before your heart stops; it didn't matter much that people scattered from the sites of infection. In fact, it probably did more harm than good. His mother died in February of 2017. He was sixteen.
Edgar, unknowingly, was immune. He carried a muted version of the plague, silent and dormant in his system. Two others in Stratford also survived. The world was quieter now, and Emma Novikov, Carson Buckley, and Edgar set off for Toronto to look for others. They were shortly adopted into a gang that called itself the Pack. Initially loose and scrappy, the Pack was brought together by Wolf, whose commanding presence afforded him an air of authority. In addition to the violent inter-gang battles for turf and, more importantly, food and supplies, what was left of the Government continued to occasionally send in coordinated raids to attempt to gain control of the situation.
In early 2021, everything changed for Edgar.
He woke up in a furnished, 1950's style motel room in a bizarre place called Cicero. Much like the Astral Plane, it was a gateway between universes. (There's some serious meta going on here, as in the context of R.S. now Cicero could be considered part of Edgar's universe... and by extension all the connected universes are as well. Universes within universes?! Anyway...) Using a key that appeared on his bedside, he could return to the eerily empty 1950's town at will, as well as appear back home in his own universe at any door he'd ever been to before. Time was frozen while he was gone, providing him with an "instant" form of transportation. It appeared to his gang-mates that he ceased eating or sleeping, as he would consistently do so in Cicero to save supplies, keep safe and maximize his time in the "real" world. It was in Cicero that he met Ea, a blue-haired rapscallion from a different universe, but one that was as apocalyptic as his (but with zombies). He invited her to come live in his world, which, while violent, was not crawling with the Undead, and the two of them formed a relationship. Many others in Cicero influenced him, but he made more enemies than friends. I won't go into it here because this is probably already tl;dr.
The "political" world of gangs was, meanwhile, constantly changing. A gang leader by the name of Roc began asserting himself and his gang as a new-world government; though no one took this lying down, the strength and coordination of his gang was a force to be reckoned with. Wide-patrols of pseudo-armed "guards" began violently enforcing curfews. Many complied out of fear or were crushed with force. By this point, Edgar and Ea's ability to "teleport" was something of a glorified urban legend, and Roc sought to make graphic displays of the two. That is, until Edgar "teleported" into his sleeping quarters and assassinated him.
Roc's death is widely talked about as Edgar and Ea's doing, but there is no evidence. The Pack swiftly became the largest, most powerful, and most well-fed gang in Toronto after Roc's followers scattered, bolstered by the "teleporters" ability to magically stage impossible surprise attacks and somehow steal well-guarded supplies. The Government continues to stage raids into the city, and are quite aware of Edgar and Ea's status as near-supernatural icons to the city's feral gangmembers. The Government also has taken several smaller towns/villages in southern Ontario and begun to rebuilt society in those pockets, albeit under authoritarian martial law. Within the Pack, unrest is stirring as people defer their obedience from the leader, Wolf, to Edgar; Wolf is distrustful of Ea and wonders if she is shaping Edgar's plans, and suspects Edgar intends to usurp rule and create some sort of society.
Truthfully, Edgar's happy as a fat cat right now and has no such plans for the future.
Psychology: Edgar has no manners. It's not that he's a bad guy -- he just lives in a very different social culture than you or I. Although a bit of a knucklehead, he was relatively polite growing up (for a preteen boy, anyway) and often won the favour of adults despite making himself a bit of a nuisance and class clown. Now, as an adult after the "apocalypse," to someone living in the ooc western Real World, Edgar seems aggressive, unreasonable, narrowminded, vulgar and inconsiderate. Basically, he comes off as a dick who finds himself funnier than he really is. These things are not exactly untrue. He could be called laid-back for how little things genuinely get under his skin, and his laissez-faire, everything-is-funny attitude towards life in general, but he could also be called high-strung for how quickly he will interpret what may be normal or playfully antagonistic behaviour as a threat. He doesn't believe in an eye-for-an-eye; he's the kind of guy who will hit back twice as hard, so you'll never try that again. That said, he usually knows enough not to pick a fight he can't win. A great deal of this is a direct product of the environment in which he lives, where aggression -- being respected and feared -- is genuinely necessary for survival (unless you're protected, alternatively, but Edgar isn't quite the type to inspire nurturing instincts in most people).
At his core, he's a well-meaning, almost-personable but guarded flirt, more-or-less good natured but with a powerful sense of us versus them. In that realm, he sees in black and white. With "us" is where his kind-streak shines through: he still acts a bit like a troll, but it's almost pathological how far he'll go in the name of those he considers "his." He throws himself very, very deeply into herd-mentality. His only solid, long-lasting personal connection growing up was with his mother, and having witnessed her sudden and terrifying death as a teenager, he is both afraid of attachment and deeply starving for it. Almost paradoxically, his inexperience and aversion to attachment makes him something of a nester; it hooks him body and soul. He'd describe himself as individualistic, which seems fitting to him because he recognizes his own affinity for emotional distance, but he is almost entirely wrong. The combination of these characteristics -- his (perhaps false) persona of being "his own person," mixed with his passionate entanglement with the gang and group mentality -- makes him something of an accidental leader of his Pack, which is not something he consciously desires. He lacks much ambition in terms of acquiring/maintaining power, but feels an obligation to do everything in his power for the gang and has semi-unwillingly ended up in that position nonetheless.
Other Skills/Abilities: As a consequence of certain sort of "supernatural" opportunities he's had that the rest of his reality is not exposed to, he's a good deal more fit and healthy than the majority of people living in the city and so has a huge advantage within his own reality. Outside the scope of his own world, however, he's pretty unremarkable; scrappy, adept at hand-to-hand and small-weapon fighting, self defense, good at interpreting aggressive body-language, but certainly nothing superhuman. He's just a regular dude.
Other Weaknesses: Just a regular guy. No known allergies. He gets the hiccups sometimes.
*Note: He is a carrier of the dormant phase of the "plague" that wiped out his world, so feel free to sense that or whatever, but it is only contagious to humans specifically from his reality (the remainder of which are mostly immune).