(no subject)
Player
Player name: Stephen
Journal: interrobangings
Birthdate: December 8th 1992
Other characters played: N/A
Character
Name: Rufus Townsen
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: Rufus is approximately 5'7” and around 155lbs of athletic muscle. His skin is slightly tan and his nose has a perpetual sunburn which never seems to go away. His regular attire is a red plaid long-sleeve with a green bandana tied around his neck. His hair's blonde, but it's mostly hidden under a brown cowboy hat. He's got a bit of scruff growing on his chin. Rufus' eyes are blue. For pants, he usually just wears blue-jeans and cowboy boots with spurs that jingle jangle jingle. (Jingle jangle.) I'll be using a combination of a PB, Scott Caan, and art.
A chunk of his right ear is missing, as are his left index and right middle fingers. He lost them all in accidents, but still manages to function just fine without them. Rufus walks with a little bit of a spring in his step, though with an air of confidence.
History: Rufus' story began in a small ranch in the southern United States, the home of the Townsen family. His parents were a happy couple; Jeremiah Townsen loved his wife more than anything anything in the world, and Anna-Lee Henders felt much the same. Everything seemed to be going well for them, and nothing seemed to separate them. Case in point, they were together when Anna-Lee gave birth on a peaceful September morning, in which a beautiful baby boy was born..
Unfortunately, a tragedy struck the Townsens immediately afterward. The strain of giving birth was too hard on poor Anna-Lee's body. Suffering from a weak heart and a tiny body, she held her baby in her arms, kissing her “little Rufus” on the forehead before she passed away.
Jeremiah, who was furious at the loss of his wife, blamed the whole thing on his son. Though he was a baby, he already didn't like him one bit. He did take his darling wife away from him, after all. However, blaming Rufus wouldn't take the pain of losing his wife away, so he ended up turning to alcohol.
This, in turn, led to many unfortunate accidents which happened to Rufus while he was growing up. On his fourth birthday, Jeremiah accidentally cut off Rufus' left index finger in an unfortunate can-opening accident. It was very unfortunate. Hence the unfortunate event of misfortune. His father took him to the hospital with that excuse that Rufus had somehow got his hand caught in a bear trap.
When Rufus was nine, he lost his middle finger and a chunk of his ear when he lost his temper and flipped off his father. Which wasn't a good idea, considering how drunk his father was at the time. He chased after him with a pistol, firing shot after shot at him, hitting him first in the hand, which caused Rufus to start running, then once more in the ear before he successfully got away.
When his father finally sobered up a little, he took Rufus to the hospital with the excuse that he had fallen into another bear trap. The doctors didn't really believe Jeremiah, but they didn't have any proof. The wound had been thoroughly cleaned. Unfortunately, the damage was irreversible at that point. Rufus was now down two fingers and a half an ear.
Besides that, Rufus' life wasn't so bad, really. When he was six years old, he started an impromptu homeschooling from his father, but still made a few friends, though he was always forced to do chores and whatnot at home. This continued into his adolescent life, even as he got his own job and began to practice with pistols of his own. It was exciting to buy both of them, since he'd been saving up for a long time to buy them.
Although some people found it rather silly, he gave his pistols names of their own. The one for his left hand was named John Wilkes Booth, while the other one was named Lee Harvey Oswald. Though both were named after infamous assassins, he vowed only to use them for good. In his mind, he thought he could “redeem” the two men if he tried hard enough.
He practised frequently, eventually becoming an excellent shot that many people became jealous of. In fact, when he was only sixteen years old, he worked his hardest to win first place in a shooting competition in an attempt to impress his father. Unfortunately, his father didn't even care. While he knew he was a great shot, he wouldn't dare brag about it. Rufus had grown up to become a polite young man with impeccable manners. Well, usually. If there was one thing that could ever make Rufus angry, it would be people mistreating others.
This proved to be a source of stress for him, since his father had become one of the rudest, cruelest, nastiest people he had ever met by the time Rufus had turned seventeen. Thankfully, years of living with this man had taught him to be patient with his kind of people. But still, there were days where it almost became unbearable to live with him, try as he might.
One small argument over the cooking (which Rufus always did) escalated into a gunpoint stand off which both parties practically dared the other to fire. Of course, neither of them did.
Rufus' adolescence was mostly normal. He was a polite young man with good looks, but he wasn't too interested in dating anyone. He wasn't popular or unpopular. It was as if the very school around him was indifferent about him being there. However, when he did attend highschool, people immediately asked questions about his hands and ear. Rufus' excuse was, "fell onto a bear trap. Dang thing cut me up real good."
But a week after Rufus had turned eighteen, he received a phonecall from a friend, who informed him that his father was threatening people in town. Without a moment of hesitation, Rufus headed out to deal with the situation.
The sight he was greeted by wasn't exactly pretty. His father had shot a man in the face on the main street and was now holding a young woman hostage. She was crying out for help. The second his father noticed Rufus, he sneered, and pressed his gun against the hostage's face with more pressure, making her squirm. He was drunker than he'd ever been.
Rufus quickly drew his guns, pointing them at his father. He was quivering with fear, having to point weapons at his own old man, but he couldn't just let him potentially kill another person.
“Do it, Rufus! I fuckin' dare ya, y'little faggot!” screamed his father, his face contorted with rage. “Y'fuckin' dare t'point guns't me, y'nasty lil' shitter. Y'aren't even s'posed to be alive! Yer mother wanted ya, not me!”
Such insults had been heard before by Rufus, so he just gulped and kept his pistols at the ready. “Daddy... please, don' make me do anythin' irrational...” he pleaded, staring down his father.
“Don' call me daddy, y'piece of shit! I never loved you, not fer a moment!”
Something at that moment broke inside of Rufus. Although his father had never told him he loved him before, he had never told him that he didn't love him at all. Never before. But this was too much to bear for Rufus.
“...I'm sorry,” was the last thing Rufus said to his father before he fired upon him with both pistols. He hit his target with incredible accuracy, hitting just above each eyeball with a sickening crack. With that same disgusting sneer on his face, he fell to the ground, dead.
People swarmed Rufus, picking him up into the air, parading him around and calling him a hero. Of course, the dead men were attended to and the young girl who had been held hostage was sent home, but Rufus was a hero!
He certainly didn't look like a hero. His expression was blank, slightly solemn, and sad. He didn't cry, though. Or smile. Or hardly even move. He just let the townsfolk have their fun before heading home to sit quietly and do nothing.
The next day, Rufus rode down the main street of town again, this time with a carful of mementos, his guns, clothes, and some money. The empty, sad expression was gone, instead replaced with a cheery smile. Even though he looked happy, upon close inspection, it looked like something may have died inside. But nonetheless, he carried on through town.
Sexual Orientation: Rufus is gay. However, due to his upbringing, he's believed that it's sinful and bad. He's struggling with his own sense of self as well, which is one of the reasons he left on his journey of self-discovery. He's aware that he's attracted to men, but he denies it.
Personality: Rufus, to put it quite simply, is gentle and kind. He's the kind of person who, if he ever saw an injured animal, would take it and nurse it back to health on his own. He tries to be reasonable and fair to everyone he knows and tires to never take advantage of anyone. Rufus is also quite trusting to strangers if they seem like a trustworthy person. To him, a trustworthy person is someone who shows kindness to others, to put it simply.
Rufus grew up in the South, which affected his manner of speech. The vocabulary he uses is usually quite simple, though this is simply a manner of choice rather than a lack of intelligence. As well, he shortens his words when he speaks. For example, “Have you seen anything?” would become “Have y'seen anythin'?” When addressing people he hasn't ever met before, he'll refer to them as “ma'am,” “miss,” or “sir.” And since Rufus is polite, he rarely ever swears. Rufus likes to use silly analogies, such as “an' that's like findin' a needle in a haystack,” “yer about as cool as a glass of milk left out on a hot day. Just as rotten, too,” and “yer a sneaky slithery snake. 'Specially 'cause I don' like usin' alliterations!”
If confronted, he'll generally try to keep the situation calm and try to reason with whomever is trying to attack or confront him, but if it all fails, he'll resort to using force to protect himself and any innocents nearby.
Unfortunately, due to the way his parents died, he blames himself for both of their deaths. When faced with the death of someone he cares about, it's practically world-shattering for him. Due to their deaths, he's never been able to accept death properly.
When it comes to sex, Rufus is a little shy. He's had very little experience, and the experiences he's had was a 7-minutes-in-heaven with a girl he didn't particularly like, which weirded him out severely. He knows that Tab A goes into Slot B (or maybe even C,) but if he had to put that to practice, he'd be rather shy about it and not know how to make it feel amazing for his partner.
Rufus considers himself to be somewhat of a gentleman, though sometimes it seems as if he's being flirty. He'll tip his hat, bow, and other things like that. Sometimes he'll even give a wink or a coy little smile, but he doesn't mean to seem flirty at all. In his mind, he's just being polite.
There's quite a few things that Rufus likes. He likes good ol' fashioned country music, playing the guitar, home-cooked meals, cooking home-cooked meals, tending to animals, helping people out, tending to vegetables, and a nice cold glass of milk.
Although Rufus is usually a non-violent person, he believes in justice above all else. He'll confront the person he's against with intense passion if the reasoning fails. Of course, he'll try not to get incredibly violent at first, but he'll bring out his guns if necessary.
Rufus is a hard worker. He's the kind of person who takes up a job and sees things through until the end. To him, he feels the need to make sure things are finished, not just finish it up halfway and pick it up some other day. He'll try to take as few breaks as possible.
While he tries not to judge anyone, he doesn't think too highly of people who drink lots of alcohol, since the only experience he's had with alcoholics is his awful father. He's indifferent to herbal drugs, such as marijuana.
There are a few things which trigger Rufus. The first is the whirr of an electrical can-opener. That freaks him out and causes him to freeze up a bit. Second would be the sight of dead bodies. It causes him to remember that incident with his father, which causes him to feel nauseous and ill. Finally, the smell of too much alcohol in someone's breath shifts his mood into an unpleasant one. He'll usually remove himself from the situation as fast as he can, but if he's stuck there, he'll forcefully leave.
Unfortunately, he's actually a bit dumb. Perhaps dumb would be the wrong word, though. Naïve might be a better way to describe it. Since he never really get the chance to go out and experience the world, he's not all that sure about certain things. For example, he's slightly rusty with his people skills, he won't know what certain things are worth, he's kind of a poor driver, he can't swim, he thinks lobsters are giant bugs, and other silly things like that. But because of this, he's very willing to learn.
Powers/Abilities: Rufus has no special powers or abilities that would need to be sealed up.
Items: Rufus has his two guns, John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald, a bit of cash, and the clothes on his back (plus shoes, of course.)
Extra: Here's a little bit of world info: Rufus' world is nearly identical to modern-day earth, though there are some minor differences. Stereotypes are more common than in ours. Some people, for example, seem exactly like stock characters, while others seem like real people.
Technologically, it's the same. However, Rufus lives in a VERY small town. His town isn't all that advanced, though people are aware of more technological stuff, such as the internet and MP3 players and whatnot.
Rufus' town, named Smallstrap, has a population of maybe 1000 people. There's a general store, a small clinic, a saloon or two, a library, a bank, and a few other stores. It's not very big, and the population is quite close-knit. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows if something happens, no matter how small.
Samples
1st Person Sample: I have samples from both Exitvoid and Ruby City.
3rd Person Sample: (A third person introspective, if that's okay!)
Waking up in a cold sweat was never pleasant. Everyone knows that. Be it from sickness, nightmares, or something else, they were all equally bad. In Rufus' case, it was a nightmare. He slowly sat up, trying to clear the grogginess from his head just for the moment. What had he been dreaming about? What was so terrifying?
And then he remembered: his father. Ever since that hostage incident, Rufus had been plagued by awful nightmares involving his father. In the dreams, the scene would relive itself, but with differences each time. Every time he had to shoot down his father, another bullet hole would be in his head, mocking him, screaming insults. Every time, the same awful feeling.
Once more, Rufus shook his head in an attempt to clear such awful thoughts and try to calm himself. For the most part, it worked. But mostly because his stomach grumbled just then, breaking that awkward moment. “Guess'm hankerin' for some grub...” he mumbled.
After a moment's sigh, he climbed out of bed and trudged towards the kitchen. He knew why these dreams kept happening. He was guilty. He killed his father. He killed the sole provider in his life, and he felt guilty. His stomach felt uneasy, his head felt cloudy, and it made him want to throw up. It was an awful feeling. That same feeling that had swept over him on that fateful day had never truly left him. There was always a sickening feeling which would only get worse when he thought about it.
Hands fumbled on the wall, trying to find the lightswitch. Once he finally managed to find the darn thing, he couldn't help but smirk. That's how things always felt; like he was fumbling his way along, There was no light in his life. Not yet, at least. But, as usual, he'd grin and bear it. After all, everyone had a cross to bear, didn't they?
The coolness of the tiles on his bare feet felt soothing. Sure, he woke up in a cold sweat, but this coolness was relieving, almost like a cold shower to clear his mind. But less wet, of course. As he trudged towards the fridge, he recalled what had happened up until now. He shot his father, which in a sense, killed his old life and shoved him into a new one. Then he left town in an effort to discover who he was. He worked a few odd jobs along the way, but ended up at this cheap motel he stayed at for most of this month.
And he finally arrived at the fridge. Eagerly, he swung it open, only to remember that it was mostly empty. “Jus' like m'own life. Well, at this moment, anywho.” There wasn't any rotten food - he was careful that way, since “one bad apple and you'll poison th'whole darned barrel!”
Even so, he kept browsing for food, and eventually stumbled on a half-eaten burrito. He wasn't about to waste good food. That would be silly. And although it was cold, he pulled it out of the fridge and took a bite. Old and cold, but delicious. Each bite was satisfying.
Once he finished, he closed the fridge and turned to the cabinet. They looked a bit dirty, but this was a cheap motel, after all. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank two cups.
Water, to him, was something strange to Rufus. It was so clean, so pure. He was never really used to wholesome purity while growing up, since his father made things difficult most of the time. Still, it was refreshing and satisfying.
He placed the glass down on the counter with a tiny clink, then began to head back to bed. The lights went off, he climbed into bed, and closed his eyes. “Here's t'hopin there ain't no more nightmares...”
Player name: Stephen
Journal: interrobangings
Birthdate: December 8th 1992
Other characters played: N/A
Character
Name: Rufus Townsen
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: Rufus is approximately 5'7” and around 155lbs of athletic muscle. His skin is slightly tan and his nose has a perpetual sunburn which never seems to go away. His regular attire is a red plaid long-sleeve with a green bandana tied around his neck. His hair's blonde, but it's mostly hidden under a brown cowboy hat. He's got a bit of scruff growing on his chin. Rufus' eyes are blue. For pants, he usually just wears blue-jeans and cowboy boots with spurs that jingle jangle jingle. (Jingle jangle.) I'll be using a combination of a PB, Scott Caan, and art.
A chunk of his right ear is missing, as are his left index and right middle fingers. He lost them all in accidents, but still manages to function just fine without them. Rufus walks with a little bit of a spring in his step, though with an air of confidence.
History: Rufus' story began in a small ranch in the southern United States, the home of the Townsen family. His parents were a happy couple; Jeremiah Townsen loved his wife more than anything anything in the world, and Anna-Lee Henders felt much the same. Everything seemed to be going well for them, and nothing seemed to separate them. Case in point, they were together when Anna-Lee gave birth on a peaceful September morning, in which a beautiful baby boy was born..
Unfortunately, a tragedy struck the Townsens immediately afterward. The strain of giving birth was too hard on poor Anna-Lee's body. Suffering from a weak heart and a tiny body, she held her baby in her arms, kissing her “little Rufus” on the forehead before she passed away.
Jeremiah, who was furious at the loss of his wife, blamed the whole thing on his son. Though he was a baby, he already didn't like him one bit. He did take his darling wife away from him, after all. However, blaming Rufus wouldn't take the pain of losing his wife away, so he ended up turning to alcohol.
This, in turn, led to many unfortunate accidents which happened to Rufus while he was growing up. On his fourth birthday, Jeremiah accidentally cut off Rufus' left index finger in an unfortunate can-opening accident. It was very unfortunate. Hence the unfortunate event of misfortune. His father took him to the hospital with that excuse that Rufus had somehow got his hand caught in a bear trap.
When Rufus was nine, he lost his middle finger and a chunk of his ear when he lost his temper and flipped off his father. Which wasn't a good idea, considering how drunk his father was at the time. He chased after him with a pistol, firing shot after shot at him, hitting him first in the hand, which caused Rufus to start running, then once more in the ear before he successfully got away.
When his father finally sobered up a little, he took Rufus to the hospital with the excuse that he had fallen into another bear trap. The doctors didn't really believe Jeremiah, but they didn't have any proof. The wound had been thoroughly cleaned. Unfortunately, the damage was irreversible at that point. Rufus was now down two fingers and a half an ear.
Besides that, Rufus' life wasn't so bad, really. When he was six years old, he started an impromptu homeschooling from his father, but still made a few friends, though he was always forced to do chores and whatnot at home. This continued into his adolescent life, even as he got his own job and began to practice with pistols of his own. It was exciting to buy both of them, since he'd been saving up for a long time to buy them.
Although some people found it rather silly, he gave his pistols names of their own. The one for his left hand was named John Wilkes Booth, while the other one was named Lee Harvey Oswald. Though both were named after infamous assassins, he vowed only to use them for good. In his mind, he thought he could “redeem” the two men if he tried hard enough.
He practised frequently, eventually becoming an excellent shot that many people became jealous of. In fact, when he was only sixteen years old, he worked his hardest to win first place in a shooting competition in an attempt to impress his father. Unfortunately, his father didn't even care. While he knew he was a great shot, he wouldn't dare brag about it. Rufus had grown up to become a polite young man with impeccable manners. Well, usually. If there was one thing that could ever make Rufus angry, it would be people mistreating others.
This proved to be a source of stress for him, since his father had become one of the rudest, cruelest, nastiest people he had ever met by the time Rufus had turned seventeen. Thankfully, years of living with this man had taught him to be patient with his kind of people. But still, there were days where it almost became unbearable to live with him, try as he might.
One small argument over the cooking (which Rufus always did) escalated into a gunpoint stand off which both parties practically dared the other to fire. Of course, neither of them did.
Rufus' adolescence was mostly normal. He was a polite young man with good looks, but he wasn't too interested in dating anyone. He wasn't popular or unpopular. It was as if the very school around him was indifferent about him being there. However, when he did attend highschool, people immediately asked questions about his hands and ear. Rufus' excuse was, "fell onto a bear trap. Dang thing cut me up real good."
But a week after Rufus had turned eighteen, he received a phonecall from a friend, who informed him that his father was threatening people in town. Without a moment of hesitation, Rufus headed out to deal with the situation.
The sight he was greeted by wasn't exactly pretty. His father had shot a man in the face on the main street and was now holding a young woman hostage. She was crying out for help. The second his father noticed Rufus, he sneered, and pressed his gun against the hostage's face with more pressure, making her squirm. He was drunker than he'd ever been.
Rufus quickly drew his guns, pointing them at his father. He was quivering with fear, having to point weapons at his own old man, but he couldn't just let him potentially kill another person.
“Do it, Rufus! I fuckin' dare ya, y'little faggot!” screamed his father, his face contorted with rage. “Y'fuckin' dare t'point guns't me, y'nasty lil' shitter. Y'aren't even s'posed to be alive! Yer mother wanted ya, not me!”
Such insults had been heard before by Rufus, so he just gulped and kept his pistols at the ready. “Daddy... please, don' make me do anythin' irrational...” he pleaded, staring down his father.
“Don' call me daddy, y'piece of shit! I never loved you, not fer a moment!”
Something at that moment broke inside of Rufus. Although his father had never told him he loved him before, he had never told him that he didn't love him at all. Never before. But this was too much to bear for Rufus.
“...I'm sorry,” was the last thing Rufus said to his father before he fired upon him with both pistols. He hit his target with incredible accuracy, hitting just above each eyeball with a sickening crack. With that same disgusting sneer on his face, he fell to the ground, dead.
People swarmed Rufus, picking him up into the air, parading him around and calling him a hero. Of course, the dead men were attended to and the young girl who had been held hostage was sent home, but Rufus was a hero!
He certainly didn't look like a hero. His expression was blank, slightly solemn, and sad. He didn't cry, though. Or smile. Or hardly even move. He just let the townsfolk have their fun before heading home to sit quietly and do nothing.
The next day, Rufus rode down the main street of town again, this time with a carful of mementos, his guns, clothes, and some money. The empty, sad expression was gone, instead replaced with a cheery smile. Even though he looked happy, upon close inspection, it looked like something may have died inside. But nonetheless, he carried on through town.
Sexual Orientation: Rufus is gay. However, due to his upbringing, he's believed that it's sinful and bad. He's struggling with his own sense of self as well, which is one of the reasons he left on his journey of self-discovery. He's aware that he's attracted to men, but he denies it.
Personality: Rufus, to put it quite simply, is gentle and kind. He's the kind of person who, if he ever saw an injured animal, would take it and nurse it back to health on his own. He tries to be reasonable and fair to everyone he knows and tires to never take advantage of anyone. Rufus is also quite trusting to strangers if they seem like a trustworthy person. To him, a trustworthy person is someone who shows kindness to others, to put it simply.
Rufus grew up in the South, which affected his manner of speech. The vocabulary he uses is usually quite simple, though this is simply a manner of choice rather than a lack of intelligence. As well, he shortens his words when he speaks. For example, “Have you seen anything?” would become “Have y'seen anythin'?” When addressing people he hasn't ever met before, he'll refer to them as “ma'am,” “miss,” or “sir.” And since Rufus is polite, he rarely ever swears. Rufus likes to use silly analogies, such as “an' that's like findin' a needle in a haystack,” “yer about as cool as a glass of milk left out on a hot day. Just as rotten, too,” and “yer a sneaky slithery snake. 'Specially 'cause I don' like usin' alliterations!”
If confronted, he'll generally try to keep the situation calm and try to reason with whomever is trying to attack or confront him, but if it all fails, he'll resort to using force to protect himself and any innocents nearby.
Unfortunately, due to the way his parents died, he blames himself for both of their deaths. When faced with the death of someone he cares about, it's practically world-shattering for him. Due to their deaths, he's never been able to accept death properly.
When it comes to sex, Rufus is a little shy. He's had very little experience, and the experiences he's had was a 7-minutes-in-heaven with a girl he didn't particularly like, which weirded him out severely. He knows that Tab A goes into Slot B (or maybe even C,) but if he had to put that to practice, he'd be rather shy about it and not know how to make it feel amazing for his partner.
Rufus considers himself to be somewhat of a gentleman, though sometimes it seems as if he's being flirty. He'll tip his hat, bow, and other things like that. Sometimes he'll even give a wink or a coy little smile, but he doesn't mean to seem flirty at all. In his mind, he's just being polite.
There's quite a few things that Rufus likes. He likes good ol' fashioned country music, playing the guitar, home-cooked meals, cooking home-cooked meals, tending to animals, helping people out, tending to vegetables, and a nice cold glass of milk.
Although Rufus is usually a non-violent person, he believes in justice above all else. He'll confront the person he's against with intense passion if the reasoning fails. Of course, he'll try not to get incredibly violent at first, but he'll bring out his guns if necessary.
Rufus is a hard worker. He's the kind of person who takes up a job and sees things through until the end. To him, he feels the need to make sure things are finished, not just finish it up halfway and pick it up some other day. He'll try to take as few breaks as possible.
While he tries not to judge anyone, he doesn't think too highly of people who drink lots of alcohol, since the only experience he's had with alcoholics is his awful father. He's indifferent to herbal drugs, such as marijuana.
There are a few things which trigger Rufus. The first is the whirr of an electrical can-opener. That freaks him out and causes him to freeze up a bit. Second would be the sight of dead bodies. It causes him to remember that incident with his father, which causes him to feel nauseous and ill. Finally, the smell of too much alcohol in someone's breath shifts his mood into an unpleasant one. He'll usually remove himself from the situation as fast as he can, but if he's stuck there, he'll forcefully leave.
Unfortunately, he's actually a bit dumb. Perhaps dumb would be the wrong word, though. Naïve might be a better way to describe it. Since he never really get the chance to go out and experience the world, he's not all that sure about certain things. For example, he's slightly rusty with his people skills, he won't know what certain things are worth, he's kind of a poor driver, he can't swim, he thinks lobsters are giant bugs, and other silly things like that. But because of this, he's very willing to learn.
Powers/Abilities: Rufus has no special powers or abilities that would need to be sealed up.
Items: Rufus has his two guns, John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald, a bit of cash, and the clothes on his back (plus shoes, of course.)
Extra: Here's a little bit of world info: Rufus' world is nearly identical to modern-day earth, though there are some minor differences. Stereotypes are more common than in ours. Some people, for example, seem exactly like stock characters, while others seem like real people.
Technologically, it's the same. However, Rufus lives in a VERY small town. His town isn't all that advanced, though people are aware of more technological stuff, such as the internet and MP3 players and whatnot.
Rufus' town, named Smallstrap, has a population of maybe 1000 people. There's a general store, a small clinic, a saloon or two, a library, a bank, and a few other stores. It's not very big, and the population is quite close-knit. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows if something happens, no matter how small.
Samples
1st Person Sample: I have samples from both Exitvoid and Ruby City.
3rd Person Sample: (A third person introspective, if that's okay!)
Waking up in a cold sweat was never pleasant. Everyone knows that. Be it from sickness, nightmares, or something else, they were all equally bad. In Rufus' case, it was a nightmare. He slowly sat up, trying to clear the grogginess from his head just for the moment. What had he been dreaming about? What was so terrifying?
And then he remembered: his father. Ever since that hostage incident, Rufus had been plagued by awful nightmares involving his father. In the dreams, the scene would relive itself, but with differences each time. Every time he had to shoot down his father, another bullet hole would be in his head, mocking him, screaming insults. Every time, the same awful feeling.
Once more, Rufus shook his head in an attempt to clear such awful thoughts and try to calm himself. For the most part, it worked. But mostly because his stomach grumbled just then, breaking that awkward moment. “Guess'm hankerin' for some grub...” he mumbled.
After a moment's sigh, he climbed out of bed and trudged towards the kitchen. He knew why these dreams kept happening. He was guilty. He killed his father. He killed the sole provider in his life, and he felt guilty. His stomach felt uneasy, his head felt cloudy, and it made him want to throw up. It was an awful feeling. That same feeling that had swept over him on that fateful day had never truly left him. There was always a sickening feeling which would only get worse when he thought about it.
Hands fumbled on the wall, trying to find the lightswitch. Once he finally managed to find the darn thing, he couldn't help but smirk. That's how things always felt; like he was fumbling his way along, There was no light in his life. Not yet, at least. But, as usual, he'd grin and bear it. After all, everyone had a cross to bear, didn't they?
The coolness of the tiles on his bare feet felt soothing. Sure, he woke up in a cold sweat, but this coolness was relieving, almost like a cold shower to clear his mind. But less wet, of course. As he trudged towards the fridge, he recalled what had happened up until now. He shot his father, which in a sense, killed his old life and shoved him into a new one. Then he left town in an effort to discover who he was. He worked a few odd jobs along the way, but ended up at this cheap motel he stayed at for most of this month.
And he finally arrived at the fridge. Eagerly, he swung it open, only to remember that it was mostly empty. “Jus' like m'own life. Well, at this moment, anywho.” There wasn't any rotten food - he was careful that way, since “one bad apple and you'll poison th'whole darned barrel!”
Even so, he kept browsing for food, and eventually stumbled on a half-eaten burrito. He wasn't about to waste good food. That would be silly. And although it was cold, he pulled it out of the fridge and took a bite. Old and cold, but delicious. Each bite was satisfying.
Once he finished, he closed the fridge and turned to the cabinet. They looked a bit dirty, but this was a cheap motel, after all. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank two cups.
Water, to him, was something strange to Rufus. It was so clean, so pure. He was never really used to wholesome purity while growing up, since his father made things difficult most of the time. Still, it was refreshing and satisfying.
He placed the glass down on the counter with a tiny clink, then began to head back to bed. The lights went off, he climbed into bed, and closed his eyes. “Here's t'hopin there ain't no more nightmares...”