Your enthusiasm is both worrying and refreshing!

Please supply a description of your character, based on the outlines stated in the stat block above. If you would like to know what certain attribute or skill ranks mean, please check the first post, under "Current Characters - Deciphering Your Stat Block!"
For an example of a possible profile, please look at corneredbliss' created character. You are not required to write a story, as a simple description will do - but hey, what is the fun of simply meeting the goal instead of exceeding it?

Following character detail, TRT-377 will be added to the first post's character registry. Good luck!

Yes, I'm quite scary with my bursts of excitement sometimes.

The man lie low in his room. His notebook was torn apart by it's own creator. It withered away because it's own god destroyed it with his overwhelming and terrifying creativity. The man dug up dirt from his nails, and flicked them off to the corner of the room. A strange creature buzzed around and bumped into the lightbulb. Light flickered like fire, danced like snakes. The what seemed to be a mechanic fly fell down, and it's noises died off.

The mind crippling work poured into the lifeform which was no bigger than a candy died off as quick as it was given birth. The giant, huddled before the strange machine with it's lights flickering from blue to orange, stroked his shabby, brown hair. Beep. He felt a little uncomfortable, edged a little closer. A small glance at his pinky made him turn back in an instant. "An accident?" He spoke to himself, but adressed to the machine recording him. "No, haha. This is the jokes of my fellows over there back at security division. Especially that brute, Maxim." He spoke in a funny eastern european accent, his swollen, tired eyes pacing around the room. "They didn't throw this mess on the floor on accident, that is because they mock me."

"But I refused to clean it, said they should help me out instead of playing this stupid game, and in response.." he needed not to explain the aftermath, just looked at his bandaged finger. A ragged sigh scattered across the dimly lit room. He stared at a strange contraption of sorts that he kept innovating. He started creating the strange thing some time ago, mostly out of boredoom. The only thing he was conversing with was this stupid, recording machine. And he needed a friend, oh how he wanted someone to help him out. His whole life was working, sleeping, eating, and being picked on. He slowly felt the meaning of life fade away from him. It was slowly turning him paranoid, depressed. But he found his hyperactivity when it came to making the strange contraption. He felt he was making a friend. The rational thoughts left him after he finished working, all he would do is create and create and create. It was his small world he loved with all his heart. And for as he felt like a king, he began to question the reality.

He began thinking.

I am here! I would like my character to be fully randomized. Gender and the like don't matter. I think it will be great falling in and out of characters based on what is provided. Sounds like great fun. If a blurb is required to go off let me know otherwise hit me with what you got and we'll go from there.

Apologies for the wait. Here we go:

---

"Did Jim send you?"

The room is swathed in darkness; there is the discernible stench of smoke and traces of human filth. The shape huddled in a chair in the far corner taps a booted foot against the dirty ground. Tap, taptap, tap, tap. Sometime later he rises - you estimate a height of about 5'10" - and stretches, arms unfurling outward in a theatrical, catlike manner. The body is thin, but wiry with muscle; red-rimmed brown eyes swivel suspiciously in your direction - they are the unremarkable shade of mud, graced with a manic gleam, bloodshot. A bony hand palms his shaved head, fingertips tracing listlessly the swirls of blue tattoos running about the skin of his skull. "Jim sent you didn't he?" He repeats; the voice is gruff, throaty and surprisingly baritone. He pauses; a pointed chin inclines briefly to the left. "What did you mean you didn't send no one?" Silence. One second, two seconds, three. "I told you I already took care of him. He ain't gonna be a problem no more."

The eyes return to you.

"Don't worry 'bout Jim, he's an asshole. Likes to play games." He extends a hand. "You can call me - " He pauses, glares daggers at you; sucks a mouthful of saliva and spits loudly to the side. "No, not PR-451. What the hell is that, anyway? No, no. I'm Craig. That's my name." The accent - American. Craig scratches the hollow of his right cheek, skin stretched tautly over high, pronounced cheekbones. He keeps a lingering gaze on you - a hawkish, wary stare. You take his hand and shake - his grip is firm and his fingers close on yours with unrelenting force, like a vice. You pull away abruptly once those grimy nails start to really dig in. He reads your expression and grins up at you, a hoarse chuckle against the back of his throat. "You're real twitchy, aren't ya?" A rat scuttles into the room's bare glow, then slinks back into the dark.

"There's one thing I'm gonna tell you, so listen close. Real close." He hisses. "Don't trust 'em. Don't trust me." He hacks a laugh, wheezes. "I got thirty years experience in the lyin' department. You?"

You start to back away, toward the exit. The light flickers and you see the rest of the tattoos spanning his body; numbers, pictures. A death's head, hellfire, a series of lines which looked like they'd been scratched in with a blade. Old scars, raised ridges of damaged flesh. A hand raises and performs a mocking little wave; you see a bracelet dangling, light sparking off its precious stones. An urge arises to question him of its origins, but you decide it is better not to. The hand lowers; the fingers pluck insouciantly at a tarnished silver earring. The cold eyes continue to trail you keenly, and for a moment you think you catch a glimpse of weakness, the minutest smidgen of self-doubt. But then it is gone, and the strange man begins to hum a lilting tune, a mangled variation of 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider'. His foot has resumed its tapping.

As the door slams shut, the last ring of his voice bursts through. "Aw, leavin' so soon? Well, Jim says bye."

Aha! My prediction came true. Pleasant surprise to wake up to. Hello everyone :)

Also, may I just comment on how creepy and awesome the markings look underneath the actual text, Tekno?

Things are coming together nicely, I have to say, and I look forward to the mess we're about to dive into. After I get blackensign's character block tossed up we'll probably be ready for the "Where You Are Now" post and then for the entire train of confusion to leave the station.

@Octavian: No worries for the wait. Had to get everyone else situated as well, so it hardly held anything up.
@corneredbliss: Why, thank you! Hopefully the atmosphere will match my text wizardry.

Now, stat block time.

blackensign said I am here! I would like my character to be fully randomized(...)

Our first fully randomized body! I generated some very interesting initial results and...ran with it.
I look forward to this blurb.

Excellent! I will get a blurb posted this evening.

Doubly excellent. I look forward to reading it and I hope everything congeals nicely.

With that said, I believe everyone has an isolated starting point; this was not so much by design as a happy accident. This would allow us to surge forward and get a few introductory posts down and perhaps get a feel for characters, so if everyone is ready and has no immediate questions I'll get your personalized "Where the hell am I?" post(s) together.

Sounds good to me, cap'n.

I...I think you're the only person online. Well! I'll just go ahead and get your portion hashed out.
(I might also note that I added a few little clarification sections to the first OOC post that might be worth a glance, they help clarify the random numbers and terms I threw into the Biometrics and Skill-Sec sections.)

Away!

EDIT: MAKE THAT A DOUBLE, BABY

Aw yeah, this is going to be exciting.

Shazam.
Octavian and corneredbliss, feel free to post at your leisure. I will draw up a few basic station maps shortly so you can have a basic idea of where you reside in the grand scheme of things. Feel free to ask for any clarifications or details you might need for your post(s) whenever you happen to need extra exposition.

Just not anything beyond the physical and obvious, else I0-N4 might do the answering.

(I apologize for the very brief liberty I took for the sake of establishing their whereabouts; I shan't be performing anything on their behalf unless they end up drugged or possessed from now on!)

Awesome. But isn't my designation PR-451 and Sadko's TRT-377? Just double-checking, because the second post mentions TRT-377.

I do have one question. The incarnation that our characters currently find themselves in, is this their first incarnation or is this already one in a innumerable amount of incarnations all dying for different reasons? Also, what is the average time span between incarnations? My character is between the ages of 32 - 40. Is this simply how the clone was created? It will effect the way I write my blurb.

Octavian said
Awesome. But isn't my designation PR-451 and Sadko's TRT-377? Just double-checking, because the second post mentions TRT-377.

Oh, oops. My bad! I got my designations mixed up, yes. PR-451, not TRT-377. My post has been edited accordingly.

blackensign said
I do have one question. The incarnation that our characters currently find themselves in, is this their first incarnation or is this already one in a innumerable amount of incarnations all dying for different reasons? Also, what is the average time span between incarnations? My character is between the ages of 32 - 40. Is this simply how the clone was created? It will effect the way I write my blurb.

They have lived before this, and are aware of this factoid, but have lost most knowledge of where they are. More distressing is the fact that they don't really know who they are, either. They likely aren't explicitly aware if they died or simply had their brains scrubbed of memory following something akin to an accident.

The body age/wear is a somewhat loose factor for you to write within; The cloned body is either strictly equivalent to a standard human aged in the range stated (32-40, in this case) or a younger body that has suffered wear and tear. It would be perfectly acceptable for X-1 to be, say, 24 - but she probably wouldn't look 24. Too much hardship.

Sorry for confusing the both of you!

Thank you. That clarifies. While I post, please let me know if there is anything in particular that doesn't sync with the RP. I'll correct it. This should only be an initial point as I am gaining my footing here so to speak. My blurb should be up shortly.

blackensign said
Thank you. That clarifies. While I post, please let me know if there is anything in particular that doesn't sync with the RP. I'll correct it. This should only be an initial point as I am gaining my footing here so to speak. My blurb should be up shortly.

Nothing to worry about. Drop your blurb off for me, I'll set the scene, then you can go a little crazy with how you react.
After all, if I woke up somewhere with absolutely no memory of who I was or where I was at, I'd probably have some...interesting soul-searching as I bumbled around.
So yes! Don't worry too much. Always time to alter missing details, like when you're a moron and mix up people's designations.
(shame, tekno, shame)

Ah, one other thing. Is X-1's implants meant to be mechanical or organic?

blackensign said
Ah, one other thing. Is X-1's implants meant to be mechanical or organic?

Oh, suppose I should have clarified that a little as well.
X-1's implants are military grade and mechanical. Extremely obvious to the naked eye. The heart implant (which she probably wouldn't be fully aware of, aside from chest scarring) is a mixture of mechanical and organic.
Exact details and benefits are up to you, but it is entirely acceptable to assume they're hardier, stronger, and keep her working for longer than your average flesh and blood crewmember.