<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
Aha! I knew it! So you admit it! That's not a legitimate application!
What would make you think that?
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
Aha! I knew it! So you admit it! That's not a legitimate application!
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
What would make you think that?
• Build | Jagged
• Hair Colour | Natural: Brunette • Dyed: Broccoli Cream
• Eye Colour | The Black of an Exhausted Ember
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
Just a hunch.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
Metaphors, my friend.
EDIT: I just got really, really tired of saying "slightly above average build" and "brown with green highlights" and "blackish brown".
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
I hope you don't think they're good or particularly clever.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
I mean, you know I could literally dedicate three paragraphs to the social dynamics associated with having a mole in a certain spot. It's far from my magnum opus, I just felt like playing my hand at something different.
Is this an actual submission or not? Yes, I believe the answer would be.
If all went according to plan, you would accept the sheet. Everyone would make fun of how weird he is, in and out of character. He would conduct his inquisition, find out who made the devil-child, stop some schemes associated with it, trip over his poorly defined ethics, and meet some of the other PCs.
<Snipped quote by Nightrunner>
I'll add him to the Pending Applications list then.
I’m coming to town next week with another post.
Material Mimic | At will, Joshua can copy any material he touches. He isn't just covered in a layer of the material, he becomes that material. Every part of his body is altered to be made of that material. Despite this change he can still move his body as normal, although his movements may be a bit more mechanical if he's made of something hard. His muscles retain their function as his body becomes a series of interlocking joints and hinges so as to maintain the full range of normal movement even while he's made of steel. It takes about one-and-a-half seconds for full conversion, starting at the point of contact and spreading across his form. This makes him quite hard to kill, and comes with some other changes.
While made out of a heavy material, Joshua's strength is increased to the degree that he can still move normally. Increased inertia and momentum may still make his movements less agile, but his speed is usually unaffected even if he's composed of stone. Additionally his senses are dulled to the point that he can't taste anything, and he hardly feels pain. Not that taste is relevant, as he requires no food, air or even sleep while he's made of a non-flesh material. He's effectively a golem in these situations. Blood is also turned into the material in question meaning he doesn't bleed out, and most of his organs are made unnecessary. As such he can even survive decapitation in this state, although that would still take him out of the fight. Destroying his brain or heart will kill him, regardless of form. Joshua also gains the ability to somewhat alter his form while transformed, such as sharpening his fingers into blades or spreading out into a thin layer when made of cloth or paper.
Joshua's transformation tends to take on the contextual properties of a material as well. If he touches painted metal he'll become painted metal, instead of mimicking only the paint or only the metal. Similarly his starting body temperature will alter to be similar to whatever he's mimicking. It's possible for Joshua to transform only part of his body into a particular material by breaking contact before the transformation is complete, but this is highly uncomfortable.
Limitation(s) | Transforming requires Joshua to touch the material he wants to change into. And while he can access a host of different abilities depending on the material he copies, different forms come with downsides as well. Paper is thin and light, allowing him to leap off buildings and glide with the wind, but it's also easy to tear. Cement is tough and durable but it's also slow and clumsy, and has a tendency to break floors. In addition Joshua can't change back to normal on his own. He needs to touch living flesh in order to go back to being a person, in the same way that he needs to touch any other material to mimic it. And like how he copies the traits of other materials, he also gains the skin colour and minor aesthetic quirks of the beings he uses to turn human again. Using a dog, for example, would leave him a very hairy man with yellowish eyes.
Weakness(es) | When not mimicking a material Joshua is a perfectly ordinary human, and therefore easily defeated by most superhuman combatants. Transforming or changing from one material to another takes a second and a half, creating an opening for an enemy to strike. Joshua also inherits the weaknesses of whatever material he's mimicking at the time.
The InquisitorCharacter Synopsis
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Andrew Devin Garfield
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November 15 | 25 | American
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Single | ♀/♂ | Heterosexual
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High School Graduate | Conspiracy Blogger
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Physical Profile
___________________________________//Basics:
• Height | 5'-8"
• Weight | 174 lbs
• Build | Jagged
• Hair Colour | Natural: Brunette • Dyed: Broccoli Cream
• Eye Colour | The Black of an Exhausted EmberMiscellaneous Items
___________________________________//Notes:
• Other | He'll usually have the soundtrack for Bravely Default playing as he writes his blog posts.
//Paraphernalia:
• Copy-Wrong Infringer | A USB drive that copies the contents of whatever it is plugged in to.
• Handcuffs | Metal implements that are pretty effective at stopping people from waving their arms around, defending themselves or making a ruckus in general (especially in combination with proper medication and blunt force).Appearance Details
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Y'know that scene from the Wreck-It-Ralph 2 trailer where Cinderella smashes her glass slipper and expertly parks it in front of Vanellope's face? Yeah, Andy is that slipper in the form of man. He's jagged, kinda twitchy and shattered looking, like a kid who still can't stand the idea of standing still. His skin doesn't quite look like it fits on his bones, it's a little too tight. His knuckles are a pearly white, even when he's at his easiest. His veins also push out of his skin, like speed bumps. His limbs jitter and tremble, like a junkie, but his eyes are somethin' to behold. If the hyperactive exterior isn't enough to unnerve you, you may reconsider after checking out his eyes.
His eyes tend to move less than most other people's, not lazily, but as though he is strangling his destiny with them. It's easy to get the impression that the man has too much raw power and ambition to be contained within his modest frame, like if a squirrel were an apex predator. If you bump his shoulder, you may notice that his musculature is rock solid. Most of his body, head not withstanding, is sparse if not hairless, like marble.
He's got some scars, mostly on his torso, one over his right shoulder-blade. If you look closely at his neck, even if he's in a t-shirt, you might be able to catch a glimpse of the biggest one. It spreads all the way from his neck to the bottom of his sternum. He might get self-conscious if he sees you staring at it, though. He tends to walk around in hoodies (though a trenchcoat isn't out of the question), black, navy blue or a dark green. Blue jeans or some sort of active lifestyle pant. Maybe a backpack or a satchel. He'll usually be in gym shoes.
Personality
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Andy had spent his recent years as a provocative edgelord. He thinks he's grown out of it; he's wrong. He knows he hates "the establishment", but doesn't know what he's talking about. He's very naive in that sort of way. He's a bit headstrong and presumptuous, at times. He sees himself as very correct and justified. He's almost self-sanctimonious, though he'd be likely to deny any such accusations at present.
He sees people as puzzles to be solved. When he meets them, he tends to size them up and immediately determine if they are a danger to him or others. Then he goes on to see what they guard, what sorts of questions they dance around, what information he can actually use. He feels like a hero, like the only torch in the oceans depths, like a queen amongst pawns.
He doesn't know whether to believe in magic or not. He doesn't know whether he actually found a creature in his parents locked room before the house burnt down. He doesn't know if he has a knack for finding the truth or if people just trust him. It's driving him a little bit crazy. He needs to discover the magic in the world.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Andy Garfield didn't really talk to his parents much. They had a big house, a big yard and a big collection of useless junk. They occasionally reiterated that they loved him, but he felt like little more than a knick-knack. Some would say they saw the value in material things because they grew up poor. Others would say that they were hoarders. Andy did. There was one particular room Andy wasn't allowed to go in. He only disobeyed occasionally. Like, four or five times. He got caught every time. Spanked. Lectured.
He wasn't even sure why it was so important that he stay out. Around the time he was sixteen, he'd entirely lost interest in the room. He'd joined the basketball team and poured his soul into it. In spite of his unimpressive height, he made for one of the best centers his coach had ever observed on a high school team. Rumor had it he was being scouted and had a real chance at making it to the big time before he lost interest entirely.
His parents fell into comas. Both of them. At once. It was a very taking time for Andy. His relatives assured him that they would rush down to make sure he was okay. Days passed. It didn't happen. Nobody came. At least nobody that he cared about. In that time, his idling mind grew desperate for distraction. Even then, he wasn't too terribly close to his parents, but he was thoroughly uncomfortable. He shed some tears and filled some Kleenex, but it was hard for him to describe what he was afraid of.
Some of the relatives who had visited told him that his parents loved him very much. They told him that everything would be okay. They told him that they knew what he was going through. He wished that everyone would stop lying to him. So he decided to royally fuck up the order that had been imposed on him. He rearranged the living room. He sold his father's vinyl collection. He deleted his mother's recordings of soap operas. And he made sure to smear eyeshadow all over his face when his relatives were around, painting pentagrams on everything and making a mess of the place. He even set up a shrine to Baphomet. And he joined the Church of Satan.
He started running out of juvenile ways to rebel, so he thought back to his youth: The room. He'd go into the room and he'd do whatever he wasn't allowed to. Upon entry, there was a curtain to pull back. He found a few bongs, a book of Billy Corgan's poetry, a blow up doll, Limp Bizkit's complete discography and a fleshlight. He squealed with disgust.
Then noticed a grinding laugh coming from a smoking silhouette sitting in a throne, directly under the light of the room's chandelier. Amethyst eyes blazed from the figure's depths and it gazed seductively, almost hypnotically at Andy's soul. It said "Your parents love you." It chuckled, "Your parents love you very much?" He cackled madly, electrically, "We know what you're going through."
Taken aback by this figure, he reasoned that he must have summoned it with his pentagrams and eyeshadow. "Did I bring you here?" The being laughs and lashes, "Of course. Your wish is my command." Andy stammers and asks, "Who are you?" The shadow answers, "I am a butterfly, my larval friend. I'm the manifestation of your parents love or lack thereof. I am your subconscious, your god." Andy is silent, not knowing how to respond, if he should reason, run or die.
"I do not grant wishes, but dear little brat, I'll humor you. No one will ever be able to lie to you again. Good luck finding the truth. I believe you'll find that there is no such thing." Curiously, Andy asked for clarification. The Silhouette said, "You are now to be my Inquisitor, my agent of mystery. You will leave no stone unturned, no answer unquestioned. Not because I will make you, but because you wished it to be this way. Now be a dear and set me free. Read the passage, the one highlighted."
And so he read from Billy Corgan's Blinking With Fists:"Gentle waves rise
just off the fingertips
All I breathe is mine
By name alone
Shape-shifter questions
To strip skin off slow
Devoid of sex
I mix up unions in the offering
The hushed-up voices are here
But they are sated full
Waiting for the stumble
That must surely come
"this time," he declares loudly
annonymous town square
"this time there will be no stumble"
At that, the silhouette began to disintegrate and glorious shadowy tongues began to shine their secretive aura in a blaze that engulfed the house. The darkness consumed the throne and the book and CDs, the toys and the throne and the room. The fire ate it's heart out, blazing on the walls and the carpet, consuming the whole house and it's resident too.
Andy woke up on his eighteenth birthday, coming out of a coma. His parents were dead and he'd now inherited a considerable sum of money, largely from insurance, but apparently a couple of his other relatives had included him in their will, graciously kicking the bucket before he came back to the waking world.
The staff all admitted that they had no idea why he didn't die in the fire and why he hadn't atrophied at all. In fact, he was in better health than some of the staff. His muscles ready, he spring out of bed and went into the world, with no home, no car and nowhere to go. So he started living in a hotel and doing research on the supernatural, though it was quite difficult to parce folklore from reliable journalism. He has been on the lookout for monsters, occultists and those involved with esotericism.
Under the veil of twinkling starlight, Andy had been marching to a convenience store. His march was interrupted by an adolescent girl, about eleven or twelve, who screamed for help. He answered, rushing to her aid and asking what was wrong. She told him that she was being pursued by a monster and that she was scared, so Andy volunteered to escort her home. Shortly after he turned his back, he heard some infantile giggling. The girl told him to "Run!" before taking off down the street herself. Andy backed away from it slowly, facing it. Andy hadn't seen anything so small move so quickly since the last time he'd taunted a housecat with a laser.
Andy leaped over it as it pounced at his feet, revealing retractable claws the length of pencils. The infant-thing didn't stop after passing under Andy, it gave him no further consideration. Instead, it took off after the girl. Andy wasn't fast enough to save her. She's dead now.
The infant-creature escaped. Andy fled the seen to avoid accusation. But Andy swore that he would find the baby-faced beast, prevent it from doing any further harm, and destroy the people responsible for unleashing it upon the world. He opened up a blog, calling it The American Inquisition to document his findings. He hasn't yet shared any of it, but it is counting down to be published and advertised across the web if he doesn't perpetually postpone its launch.
Abilities & Skills
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔//Abiliites:Superhuman Ability | He cannot be lied to. A portion of the djinn he'd encountered lingers within him and prevents anyone speaking directly to him from explicitly stating anything not lining up with their own personal take on "reality". Ever since his experience, he's not felt like himself, though he isn't entirely sure if it's due to trauma or because he is under the psychic influence of a higher power. He's not sure it makes a difference.
Limitation(s) | He doesn't cause people to speak truth; he prevents lies. He can be directly ignored and has no superpower that can make people feel compelled to say anything. For this reason he is faced with the ethical conundrum of whether to pressure those he is interrogating with intimidation or actual harm.
People who are incorrect, naïve or in an altered state of mind may provide him with disinformation, because they believe themselves to be telling the truth. In some circumstances, it essentially makes it entirely useless and emotionally exhausting for him to have a superpower in the first place. It's like listening for a tree to fall in the forest while listening to a playlist of falling tree recordings.
The ability to prevent lies only applies when statements are made directly to him. He can be lied to if he is part of a group, like over an intercom. He also cannot retroactively alter recordings he encounters that contain lies to contain truths. For example, if he finds a Post-It-Note that says "All rabbits have five legs", it will not change to say that "Most rabbits have four legs."
Weakness(es) | He has been pretty emotionally unavailable for most of his life. While temptations of money or power would be largely uninteresting for him, it's not unimaginable that his principles could take a backseat to romance. For those opponents who don't quite have the resources or attention to orchestrate a long-game, you can always stomp on his right pinky toe. He broke it as a youth and it never quite healed right.
//Skills:Reflexes | He's not necessarily good at fighting, or at hitting people where it hurts. But he is pretty good at avoiding strikes and not getting trapped, maimed or killed. He's got something of a practiced paranoia that warns him when something is terribly wrong, even if he can't quite put a finger on what it is.
As the rest of that paragraph implies, the different 'powers' gained are the properties of materials he's mimicking. If he's made of glass he's hard to see. If he's made of paper he's incredibly light. If he somehow manages to become uranium he'll give people radiation poisoning. That paragraph is to indicate that he can gain access to the properties of a wide variety of materials, to a wide variety of effects.
By that logic he’d also be as unbending as steel, and as tearable as paper when he is in those states. I understand that a certain amount of creative license is necessary, but you cant just pick and choose what properties of the substances you get. I’m okay with him turning to steel, but in order to do that I expect him to act like steel would.
His muscles retain their function as his body becomes a series of interlocking joints and hinges so as to maintain the full range of normal movement even while he's made of steel.
There’s a balance to this that I mentioned to Wraith where he only transforms parts of his body in cases like this. For example, his arm from the elbow down is steel so he can still strike things and move.
Is there a specified amount of the substance he requires to transform? I ask because he can carry around marbles of whatever substance he wants and change whenever he wants.
Why? This power isn't overpowered, so I don't see why you feel the need to inflict such a massive nerf.
.... yes. He gains ALL of the properties of the material he turns into. So when he turns into steel, he acts like steel.
I'd say he needs at least a marble-sized quantity. And yes, if he could acquire a marble of the material he could carry it around to transform. At which point he could indeed pull it out of his pocket and change whenever he feels like.
Here’s your own answer to your question..... yes. He gains ALL of the properties of the material he turns into. So when he turns into steel, he acts like steel.
Your artistic license is your character’s ability to change their substance at all.
This is why this nerf is required. If you want the ability to change at will, whenever you want, requiring very little source material then that’s fine! If you want to be super durable, that is fine! But you cant be both. Characters that are min-maxed (like Natalie for example) dont get multiple powers or the ability to change their abilities at all. You can be the most durable character, a man of steel, but you cannot transform if that’s the case. You can transform regularly with little of your source material, but you cannot have full body transformation.
Unless you introduce another weakess that will balance having both.
_______________________________________________ Mauro Angelo Bianchi _______________________________________________ May 18th, 1976 | 42 | Italian immigrant _______________________________________________ Single | ♂ | Homosexual _______________________________________________ Education NYU Medical Graduate | Surgeon _______________________________________________ Physical Profile ___________________________________ //Basics: • Height | 5'9" • Weight | 198lbs • Build | Slightly muscular • Hair Colour | Dark brown, streaked with grey • Eye Colour | Blue Miscellaneous Items ___________________________________ //Notes: • Vetran | Discharged 8 years prior • Alcoholic | 3 years sober //Paraphernalia: • Cell phone | out of date flip-phone | Appearance Details ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Mauro is something of a shadow of the man he once was or could be. His once muscular build has shrunk and turned gaunt after years of alcoholism while more recent times of over-working and exhaustion have further contributed to making him look older still than his true middle age. Still his face is that of a handsome man; if someone is able to look past his unkempt grooming and rather sunken eyes. He has no discernible fashion, most of his clothes while clean are riddled with tears and old stains meant much more for function and frugality than form. A hunched posture paired with already underwhelming height often leading the few people to take notice of him in a crowd to assume an underwhelming man in both physical competence and character. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Only someone completely stupid with altruism would open a free clinic in the bowls of Santa Celia's ghetto, just plain stupid if they had open doors for all. Mauro however is neither. He carries a heavy conscience, and does his charity work to feel better about himself rather than the world; which he holds in a rather low regard. There is no underlying hope for justice, or any real cause he dedicates himself to; but if he is able to offer something to help those suffering around him, why wouldn't he? Few are close enough to Mauro to see the workings of his personality; he doesn't have time to make new friends, and is paranoid around most strangers. Even to the handful of people he is familiar with he remains distant and distracted, too often pessimistic and slow to smile. The brass exuberance that use to dictate his actions has been completely exchanged for a sour demeanor. He considers himself pragmatic but never to the point of nihilism, and holds a quiet hope for redemption in his own eyes however unrealistic it seems. |