CraftWork's Character Sheet

[CraftWork]

Game:Teddy Bear Apocalypse OOC

Name: David Wang

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Occupation: Student

Personality:
Craft is a happy go lucky and very out going person, he will happily talk to strangers and is prone to trusting them. He will usually take everything at face value and can be very naive.

Appearance:
David is about 5'4 and comes from an Asian descent. He has short hair that tends to stick straight up. He is not ugly per-say but not over attractive either, he is average. He tends to wear black suits jackets with a dress shirt and jeans.

Skills/Abilities:
David is a skilled archer, and is adept at most types of technologies.

Inventory:
Wrench
Screwdriver
Flashlight
Magnify Glass
Whistle

[CraftWork]

Game: The Psychokin-seed Infection

[Name:] David Chen

[Age:] 16

[Appearance:] David is a 5'5 Asian boy, with short black hair, he has long bangs in front of his face that slightly cover his eyes. He has dark brown eyes, and large scar over his right eye from where he was killed. He prefers to wear black suits jackets with a dress shirt and jeans.

[Bio:] David was a normal student in high school trying to do his best to gain a proper education and then advance to a post secondary education. He was born into an middle class family and had a rather happy life.

Then one day on his way home, a stranger stalked David home and stabbed him in the eye with a large kitchen knife, the knife went through his eye and into his brain, he died instantly.

[Your Psy-Weapon:] An over sized kitchen knife. (the blade is about a meter large and the handle is about 30cm.)

[Your specialty:] Control of Photons.

[CraftWork]

Game: ISAD

Name - John Smith No. 6

Appearance - John is about 5'4 and wears pure black armour, with a large red cloak over it.

Spoiler

Description -
No. 6 did not have much social interaction, except for the fellow soldiers he met during his training. He grew up to be a rather socially awkward person that will tend to trust and do whatever a superior says, he is not good at communicating but that doesn't stop him from trying. He enjoys his life, as he never knew any other life, and will tend to be in a everlasting state of joy, even when faced with death.

John Smith No. 6 was one of ten clones that the Republic of China attempted to create in order to combat the Shadows. This project was shut down intimidatingly after the first crop of clones were made due a violation of the human rights set by the UN. No. 6 was one of only six clones that were well along enough to be released, the other six were sent to be kept in cryo.

All the John Smiths' DNA were a mix of several famous Chinese warriors and leaders. All John Smiths' share the DNA of Bruce Lee, Councillor Mao and Lu Bu. No. 6was further given the DNA of Jackie Chan and Redcliff, in hopes of increasing his body's durability and his intelligence. After being shut down the remaining six John Smiths were all in different stages of age, the youngest being four and the eldest being thirty-five, No. 6 was eleven. In the next five years No. 6 was trained extensively by the military with the other clones.

Class - Medic
+100 Skill Points
Health - 1200(+200)
Energy - 1100(+0)
Speed - 30(+4)
Defense - 25(+16)
Strength - 20(+3)
Accuracy - 10(+3)
Standard Assigned Weapons - Combat Knife, M909 Striker, Smoke Grenade, Flash Grenades, Incendiary Grenades


Skill 1 -Nano Regeneration - Microscopic nanites are released into an allies bloodstream through an injection into a specially designed port in all ACSs, or directly through the skin. Nanites feed off of the bodies waste and converts it into restoratives, recovering health over a short period of time.
+5% health per second for 10 seconds to user or target ally. -100 energy. 30 second recharge

Skill 2 - Emergency Jump - In case of dire emergency situations, a specialized phase reactor in the Medic's ACS can be triggered, transporting them and any near by allies back to the last checkpoint through phase space.
Transports all allies within a 15 foot radius back to last checkpoint. -500 Energy. 240 second recharge.

Weapons
Left Hand - M909 Striker
Right Hand - M909 Striker
Off Hand - Combat Knife
Back/Shoulder Mounted - None
Automated - None

Armor
Head - Sentinel ACS Helmet
Torso - Sentinel ACS Chassis
Arms - Sentinel ACS Bracers
Hands - Sentinel ACS Gauntlets
Legs - Sentinel ACS Riders
Feet - Sentinel ACS Grieves
Full Body - Red Cloak

Inventory - 5/40
Flash Grenade x2
Smoke Grenade x2
Incendiary Grenade x1

Status - Active

Activity - At least one post a day, if the story or thread permits it.

[CraftWork]

Game: The Guillotine

Name:
Craft Hill

Codename:
Heel

Gender:
Male

Age:
24

Appearance:


Short Bio:
Craft was born in a small village. His parents ran the local apothecary and through them Craft learned everything he knew on potion making. His father would take Craft out on hunting trips, when he was younger Craft was much more enthusiastic about these trips, but one day a wounded stag in it's final moments, craved open his father's heart. Mortified Craft become much more introverted and refused to leave the house.

At the age of sixteen Craft's mother became ill. After draining any gold the family had on trying to find a cure Craft's mother finally passed away a short two years late. Having no choice Craft gathered his belongings and left his home and promptly got lost. Still those hunting trips did leave Craft with some knowledge of how to survive in the woods. Craft eventually found his way out of the forest and into civilization a changed man, still rather shy, Craft had been harden by the wild and now serves as a member of the Guillotine.

Abilities/Powers:
Craft is a skilled healer, a non-magical healer that is. He is adept at alchemy and is versed in the use of the bow. When fighting Craft tends to hang back and offer covering fire and healing salves to his fellow combatants. Although if pressed several of his potions can turn out to be quite dangerous when applied to an arrow and forcefully injected into an enemy.

Rank D would be the average real life human skill.

Healing: Rank B+
Archery: Rank A-
Alchemy: Rank B+
Gathering: Rank B
Wilderness Survival: Rank B
Poems: Rank S+

Equipment:
Bow, Leather Armor, Cloak, Arrows, Healing Salves, Potions of Melting, Potions of Combustion. Potion Making Kit.

[CraftWork]

Game:Blade Dance Online

Name:
Arthur Zhou

Gender:
Male

Age:
27


Appearance:

Main Weapon Type Focus:

Gauntlets

Armor Type:

Heavy Armour

Skill Focus:

High End:

Taunting
First Aid
Persuasion
Martial Arts
Intimidate

Low End:

Battle Continuation
Mining
Hunting
Riding
Swimming

Attribute Focus:
Endurance

[CraftWork]

Game: Bored of Zombies

McDonalds
Employee Registration Form


Name:
Tee Vee Tropes

Date Of Birth:
07/30/2794

As an Employee of McDonalds I realize I will be working in a hazardous environment. I accept that I do not have the right to claim compensation from my Employer, McDonalds should I fall victim to an accident in the workplace. Such accidents include but are not limited to,

Attacked by a John.
Attacked by a Jane.
Shot in the head.
Slips and Falls.

Appearance:


Biography:
Poor Tee, was born at an extremely young age (like most people) but instead of having a normal (as normal as you can in this day and age) upbringing he became enamoured with fiction. Like really enamoured... Like that's all his life is about now. Tee may have been cursed by his name but during his short eighteen years of life on this planet, he has been trying his absolute best to live through as many tropes as possible. Be it good or bad. Which has caused quite a few problems in his life. Things like trying to get his parents to abuse him, trying to marry as many of his childhood friends as possible.

In fact most of Tee's life has been him trying to find the call to adventure, searching for an enemy, and even trying to become evil himself. (Un?) Fortunately Tee's attempts to become a protagonist have all been huge failures. Still to this day Tee has not given up and had now applied to McDonalds and is waiting for adventure!

Medical History:

• Broken Every Single Bone in the Body
  
  • Exception: The Left Forearm
  
  
  
• Escapism

I realize that by withholding any information about my Biography or Medical History that my Employer may find important or funny will result in the termination of this contract.

Employees will be paid in spoils, 60/40 to McDonalds.

Sign Here, Tee Vee Tropes

Date: 28/10/2712

[CraftWork]

Game: Hom'less Superpowers

Name: Austin

Age: 3

Gender: Male

Race: Felis Catus a.k.a. the House Cat
Description:

Personality: Austin is an extremely odd cat, in that he unlike most cats is one that will actively seek people out for affection and petting. You may ask why is this odd, but au contraire my friend, after being pet for thirty minutes he will then demand to be pet for at least an hour more. After said hour he will demand even more petting. In all honesty Austin is a certified attention wh- lover. So much in fact, that when his owner refused to give Austin his daily demand of two hours of attention first thing in the morning Austin decided to simply leave and try to find a life outside where maybe someone else will want to pay him some well deserved attention.

Personal History/Current Situation: As stated above, Austin has ran away from home, a home that he himself thinks was not loving enough, That was happened last week, since then Austin has decided mostly to hang around primary schools and be pet and adored by small children. The times he has had to eat he has manged to most gain food from a sympathetic passerby, and overall even being the house cat he is, Austin still enjoys his life outside. The cold, and the rain though are unsavoury but still the pros out weigh the cons, and Austin lives strolling through town glaring at birds and squirrels sleeping in the warm sun, and when confronted with a rather angry dog, simply scratched said dog in the eye. Still even with the aid of the children, Austin feels that he gained more love where he once lived, so he has currently decided to return home, until that fateful day where he gained powers.

Superpower: Invasion

[CraftWork]

Game: Apocalyptica - a Modern Zombie Roleplay

Name:
Don Johnson

Nicknames:
The Mail Man
Johnny

Age:
27

Class:
Drifter

Subclass:
Mailman

With very few methods of communicating between havens beyond visiting and talking face-to-face, it was only a year or two after the havens had been formed when travelers realized there was money to be made off of delivering mail. At first, mailmen were valiant heroes, regarded with an awe and respect almost never seen in these communities. And for the first little while, the postmen deserved it. Their job was dangerous, and they had no idea how much they would be able to charge for their services.

Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever. Before long, the postmen started realizing that there were no alternatives to them, and raised prices. In the crime rings of the havens, it was found out that citizens were easily conned out of their money or supplies if you were to pose as a mailman. As a result, trusted deliverymen raised their prices even more, their services highly sought after because of their untarnished reputation. Several of the original postmen made enough money off of the operation to effectively retire. In almost every haven, at least one Elitist might be a former mailman.

As another few years passed, the scales eventually balanced. Mailmen found mediums for their rates that still allowed them business, and the mail cons (as most of the haven governments knew them), fell back to more reasonable levels. During this time, several of the havens (notably, Augusta, Chico and Reno) banned mail entirely, tired of hearing complaints of their citizens being robbed. Traders can still deliver mail, of course, but anyone who advertises themselves as a mailman is kicked out without much ceremony. Today, mailmen are regarded by most citizens as a necessary evil. Rates are high, cons are easy to pull off, but what other choice is there?

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Physical Attributes:


Physical Attributes:
Don is 5'11 weighs out to be a grand total of about 130lbs and is a rather scrawny looking and lanky fellow. Forever clothed in his well worn beige trench coat, so much so that his colleagues swear it's part of his body. The clothing under his coat will vary but tends to stay within the same range of colours. Black and grey are his go-to clothing and he ties the entire ensemble together with beige hiking boots. Don tries to keep an uplifting and optimistic aura around him. Unfortunately for him, and those around him, all the wide smiles he gives, really just make him seem creepy. A factor that may add to that would be a large star burst scar that sits on his forehead, Don himself doesn't quite know where the scar came from but when asked about it will always remark that it came from a bullet he took to the head.

Personality:
Don is a very self aware person in that he is contently thinking of what others are think about him. He was diagnosed with a minor case of schizophrenia when he was younger, and is prone to small visual hallucinations when tired. The doctor's told him that he suffered from paranoia caused by his illness but Don, since the end of the world, likes to think of it as something useful that's come out of illness. Most would tend to shrink away form people and conversation in Don's line of work, but his own need to socialize fuels Don in that he enjoys the sound of his own voice far too much to ever stop talking. Always trying to keep the spirits of those around him up, Don is most definitely an optimist.

Before the Infection:
Don was a white collared office worker, who had a dead end job at a large corporation. He went through the motions day by day never really reaching out to other people around him. Don had few close friends, and had always craved travel. He came from a middle class family and made a decent enough living to not have many problems from day-to-day living, he could never save enough to travel. Something always came up, be it a flat tire, a broken engine, oddly enough it seemed like his car was what was really keeping him down. Throughout the many visits he would make to the mechanics, he would end up befriending one of the mechanics, quite ironically named Mac.

Still Don was never unhappy, even with his small circle of friends and his non-existence love life, working his dead-end job and dreaming of travel, that was until Infection Day Zero. When the infection struck Don was at work typing on his computer as he was usually most afternoons. Don managed to remain a grand total of two hours blissfully unaware of the horror that was going on outside. Still when he looked outside the window he was very horrified to see the death and decay that going on. Still trying his best to keep a semblance of calm Don acted as quick as he could got into his car. Before he remembered he was a terrible actor and then promptly crashed into a street pole when he was trying to escape. Quickly jumping out his ruined car Don ran towards his house.

Of course as Don had never really kept up with exercising daily, he soon found a large trail of zombies behind him their moans assaulting his ears. Turning a corner he nearly ran into a flipped car situated in the middle of the road, it seems that many others had the same idea as Don and had tried to escape by car only to also crash. A ten car pileup blocked Don from his home, and a horde of zombies crept ever closer behind him. Instead of panicking, like most would in a situation like this, Don calmly took out his cellphone and began to record himself.

"My name is Don Johnson, and if this is found that means I'm dead." He gulped and took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his shoulders rose. Letting his shoulders relax, Don opened his eyes. "Please tell my family that they mean the world to me-"

He monologue was cut off however by the honking of a car horn and Don quickly twisted around to see, Mac, in his trusty Honda Civic giving Don the stink-eye.

"You can make your will later, just get in the car first." Mac deadpanned as Don quickly jumped into the car, before strapping on his seat belt. "I mean really, what were you doing?"

"It seemed like a good thing to do before I died." Don nodded his head, as he scratched his chin. "I mean what else do you do when you die alone?"

Mac shook his head before swinging the car around. By a miracle the two of them manged to drive out of the city unscathed. For two long days Don and Mac were just two buddies on an excruciating long road-trip that had no final destination. The extra gas that Mac kept in his trunk kept their car going, but when the two talk about it now they marvel about what a miracle it was they survived that ride. Still they were cracking jokes the entire way, until an announcement buzzed onto their radio.

A safe haven had been set-up only a few miles away from them, in Florida, the two of them ecstatic quickly changed their heading and drove until they hit their utopia.

After the Infection:
The utopia they found was everything the two hoped for it to be. Pleasure and leisure, were abundant in the haven and for a while it was enough for Don. Of course all good things must come to an end and Don soon found himself listless and lethargic.

Don and Mac lived in a shared apartment and together made a comfortable living in the haven. Mac did tend to lament the sale of his Honda a bit too often for Don's taste but the two of them were friends forger through strife and their friendship was strong.

It was one night however that tested the bonds of their friendship to the limit, Don came home to find their home a wreck, their minor belongings stolen, their furniture trashed and Mac lay in the centre of it all a large blue bump visible on his forehead. Don quickly woke him up and question him as to what had happened.

"I did something stupid Don." Mac sighed, as he stared up at the ceiling from where he sat on the floor.

"What did you do!?" Don tried his best to keep his voice in a speaking tone, however even with his focus his voice came out as a yell.

"I may have borrowed some money from the wrong people." Closing his eyes, Mac let out a sigh as he rubbed the large bump on his forehead. "I may have not been able to pay them back, and they may have come to collect."

"Mac. Why would-" Don opened his mouth to shout, before quickly biting his tongue, large yellow stars beginning to spin in the corner of his eyes. "We don't even need money."

"I know, I know." Mac bit his lip as he grabbed his head with both hands. "I'm sorry."

Don took a deep breath before seating himself next to Mac, "How much did you even owe?"

"Too much. What we had wasn't enough, they said they'll be back tomorrow to collect the rest." Mac mumbled, and Don banged his head on the floor as he laid down on the ground.

"Well that's fantastic."

The two of them laid there the rest of the night in silence, and as the sun had just began to rise a knocking could be heard on the door. Don looked over towards Mac to see that he had fallen asleep before shaking his head. A small dog came into Don's vision and barked loudly into his ears, Don was nonplussed and continued to lie there, taking in deep breaths.

The knocking sound increased, and Mac next to him began to shift covering his ears. Don tilted his head at this before shrugging. "i guess the knocking was real then."

Mumbling to himself he blinked hard, and the dog in front of him vanished. Don stood up and dusted himself off before walking up to the door and suddenly remembering what Mac had told him yesterday.

"I guess they're here to collect." Muttering he opened the door to be greeted with the sight of a rather large man wearing a purple suit that looked like it had belonged to a Willy Wonka who had personally tasted all of his candy.

"Well you must be Don!" The man's voice boomed, and he had the slighted tint of a southern accent.

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Don took a step back before nodding, "Yes."

"Well I'm Billy Bob, you can call me Bill!" The man's smile grew even wider as he took a step forward and slapped a hand onto Don's back, "I'm the man that your friend Mac there borrowed from, and hasn't returned to yet."

"I guessed that." Don took a step away from Bill, Don made sure to keep his eyes trained on Bill at all times.

"Well then you should have also guessed that I'm here to collect!" His smile faded slightly, and he shifted his hands so they were holding onto his own lapel. "Still it look's like my boys took everything you have!"

Don nodded his head, before taking another step back and kicking Mac awake. Mac jumped up glaring at Don before taking one look at Bill and straightening up.

"Bill, it's so nice to see you in person again!" Mac quickly put on a large smile, as gave a cursory glance to Don. Don shrugged his shoulders minutely before taking on a similarly large and fake smile.

"Same to you Mac!" Bill walked over to grab Mac's hand and began to shake it up and down. "You owe me quite a bit of money!"

"I have nothing left to give." Mac smiled as he gestured to the empty room.

"Yes you do! You have your bodies!" Bill mirrored Mac's smile, "I have some work for you two."

"What kind of work?" Mac struggled to keep his smile up.

"Just a smile mail delivery."

That was the end to their leisure, and the start of their new careers. Mailmen, Don would often find himself repeating the word to himself and fighting a smile. He was a mailman, at first it was a horrible job that could have resulted to his death at any moment, but after the first job, and then the second and the third, it had all become routine. Don and Mac had become well-oiled machines, and Don would never have had any other way.

Well except for their third team member, Lee, who joined their team as a watch dog for Bill in order to keep an eye on the two of them. He was a combat specialist that had threatened to kill Don at least a dozen times in the first hour they had met. Still work was work and Don soon became accustomed to the country long treks delivering letters to anyone who would pay. Don had finally found his place in not only the apocalypse but the world.

Arsenal:
Don carries only a simple Desert Eagle .50 at his side, along with a combat knife.

Strengths/Skills/Talents:
Don is a people person at heart, someone who live to talk to others, this trait of his is relatively new and he had only really had to speak to others since becoming a Mailman.

Aside from that Don is a skilled driver being the designated driver for his team, aside from that however most of his skills tend to be on the lower side of the spectrum in that he his a terrible shot. The reason for his single gun, is that when he did have a assault rifle about ninety percent of his shots hit the air, the other ten percent hit the ground.

Weaknesses/Problems:
As already stated Don suffers from a minute case of schizophrenia and is not the most physical capable. If anything Don is rather weak and has to rely on others when it comes to combat situations.

Vehicles:
Don has no personal vehicle, however the Mailmen Guild will supply one when ever he needs to go on a delivery. Currently his vehicle of choice is any pick-up truck, Don doesn't care much about the specific car, something that drives Mac crazy. Still he does prefer to drive stick, as driving automatic is far too boring for his taste.

Home Base:
Florida Haven

Starting Point:
Travelling to Washington Haven.

[CraftWork]

Game: Tangled Affairs

Name:
Dean David Chang

Gender:
Male

Age:
20

Orientation:
Heterosexual

Personality:
"I didn't mean for that to happen, I'm so sorry." Is something that Dean finds himself saying far too often for his own liking. Exceedingly clumsy, Dean tends to cause havoc to the people around him, tripping and dropping many a thing. Still for all the trouble that he causes too other people, Dean is still a charming happy go lucky person that enjoys nothing more than to surround himself with other people, much to some of their own dismay.

Appearance:

Strengths:
Dean is very logical and has a very good reaction time. Other than that, Dean also enjoys working with his hands, or more specifically wood working and metallurgy.

Weaknesses:
Dean is not very book smart. Most things that schools test for, such as math or reading comprehension seem to escape Dean, and he is also finds it extremely hard to study.

Dream:
Dean would love to able to get out of his dead end job and instead start a career in something that he actually cared for.

Fear:
That he ends up dying alone at a dead end job living in poverty.

Occupation:
Cashier

Level of Schooling:
High School

Residence:
Studio Apartment

Brief History:
Dean lived a rather privileged life, at least when he was young. He was born into a high middle class family, where he went through live simply coasting through life. Never really trying to hard or never really putting no effort, Dean enjoyed his life. Still all good things come to an end, in Dean's first year of university, his coasting through life mentality caused him a loss of around twenty-five thousand dollars in that he failed his first year.

His parents were slightly put off by this, but ever hopeful shoved a reluctant Dean back into university, this time at one that needed a lower entry mark. Still, habits die hard, and Dean found himself wasting another twenty thousand dollars or so when he once more flunked out of school. This time his parents were neither understanding nor simply put off, they were furious.

They told Dean that he would be going once more to post secondary, but that he was free to choose whatever option he wanted, he just had to get there on his own. Dean was promptly put out on to the street, where he had to quickly find work.

Finding a job working as a cashier at a local supermarket, Dean quickly got a second part time job also as a cashier working at a coffee shop. With those two jobs absorbing most of his time, Dean now lives his life, working as he shoves all of his disposable income into a savings account and hope that he will soon have enough to afford another year of post secondary education.

Relationships
Family:

Mother (42)

Father (46)

Brother (17)

Sister (15)

Friends:

---

Enemies:

---

Lover(s):

---

Spouse:

---

Finances
Money:

Bank:$6,200

Possessions:
Clothing and any other bare necessity.