Still open for business, or have you found your 4-5 players?
I could probably have a character in by tonight, sometime. I am about to start my shift at work, or else I’d be working one out as we speak.

character application [+]

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_{Lakisha Freeman}

Lakisha Freeman was born to a single parent household in Cott’s Park, a rough lower middle class neighborhood in the Bainbridge Island metro area. Following her father’s death to a sudden, untreatable cancer when she was seven years old, Lakisha experienced the first sudden experience of her life. Had it not been for the influence of her maternal grandfather, she would’ve lacked a father figure throughout the bulk of her childhood.

Growing up in a challenging financial situation taught Lakisha to be frugal and to plan ahead, though most of all it taught her the value of escapism and self-expression. This need to create would eventually lead to her unearthing her ability as an artist whether it was with a paintbrush or a pencil. It was one of the few things in her life that made her experiences living barely above the welfare line tolerable.

Eventually, she found the opportunity to leave Cott’s Park through an art scholarship to Washington State University. Through time she would combine this with a degree in teaching that would lead her to return to the Bainbridge metro area and begin teaching in local public schools in the area. It’s been several years since then and while not being where she imagined she would be at twenty-nine years old she knows it could’ve turned out way worse; perhaps there’s a way she could attain her dream of painting murals across Cott’s Park and being featured in haughty art galleries?

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Physical Traits

Standing at 5’3” and of a slender yet athletic build, Lakisha has been shorter than every single significant other she’s had in her life. Fortunately, her shorter height hasn’t led her to have a lack of confidence, as evident from very impulsive decisions that have caused her to have a brush in with a police report or two. Her skin is a light-to-medium caramel with eyes that are old a few tones darker. This is in contrast with her ever-changing style, color, and cut of her hair. Naturally dark brown – almost black – her hair currently appears to be straightened with blonde highlights into a tight ponytail. A difference from her days in Washington State University where she wore her hair in a natural style.

Her fashion style is what she sarcastically describes as “suburban chic”. As a teacher in a public high school there is no hardline on dress code, though she prefers to express herself in a way that keeps the students eyes on their homework and not on her. A long sleeve shirt, denim jeans, and pair of work boots is the most common items she brings into class and when not making a fool of herself.

Full Name

Lakisha Janeway Freeman

Gender

Female

Ethnicity

African-American

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Age

29

Motives

Other than paying the rent and being frustrated that her art degree wasn’t enough to get the hell out of Washington State? Lakisha can’t think of much. The idea that she could get out of the city she was born in and become featured in high society art galleries and blogs is still very much a pipe dream. This isn’t to say she hates her job is teaching a bunch of teenagers how to appreciate art and utilize their own creative talents, mind you. She just doesn’t love it.

She’s not one of those teachers who you see in Hollywood Movies and Television Shows where they are doing absolutely everything they can do for their students despite being nearly broke. Lakisha does what she has to do to meet her requirements and follow the curriculum. Perhaps she’ll learn to get over her own angst about not becoming the next Joan Mitchell or Faith Ringgold. Perhaps she’ll get her big break. Who knows?

Occupation

High School Teacher
Freelance Artist

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Sample Post

Write out a post with your character doing ordinary things. Treat it like a preclude to your introduction post. You must be able to write two or more paragraphs (preferably more than two) in a matter that's readable. The sample post will also be judged.

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For your viewing. [+]

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Donny

Lost, forgotten.
Donny never really got a break. Born to Brazilian immigrants he did alright in school with most of his marks coming from gym, the arts and languages. He was just old enough to see the Vietnam war in its peak but didn't quite get the chance to participate in the thing army recruiters so romanticized.

He got into university and performed acceptably if quite far from excelling in his chosen degree of English. He signed up as a reservist in the military after finding some difficulty in getting a good job and eventually decided to become a proper soldier. There was peace for a while, until the Gulf-War rolled around. He served faithfully receiving a purple heart after taking several bullets. The wound healed but the mind didn't as was the case for so many soldiers out there. He was made to seek psychiatric help, which ended up being a Doctor who he fancied to put it lightly. Only with her help could he make some semblance of recovery and reintegration to proper society, but alas it would not be; on the way to work one day she was hit by a bus before his very eyes no less. Already this was for more tragedy than any one man could properly handle, and from there the degradation began. Donny didn't go outside, didn't clean himself, didn't get a job prompting him to be fired. When Afghanistan rolled around he couldn't get back into the armed forces, and that was the nail in the coffin of a good citizen.

Now Donny roams the streets, trying his best to forget without melting his brain with booze.

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Physical Traits
An old man with a beard now white with age. Donny is quite tall at 6'2 but is often at least somewhat hunched, often bringing him down to a mere five feet. He tries to keep hygienic but with his lifestyle this is usually in vain, and one can see the marks of dirt and grime upon him. His clothing will usually be in various states of disrepair depending on the last time he moseyed over to a mall for something new to re-appropriate. Often his clothes will be mismatched like a beaten top hat in conjunction with basketball shoes, swimming trunks over long-johns and a plastic rain coat.

Full Name
Sebastian Donovan Barretto

Gender
Male

Ethnicity
White-Hispanic (Branco)

Sexuality
A hole's a hole, am I right or what eh?

Age
60 years old; Date of birth 13/2/1960

Motives
Don is driven by the desire to live, not just survive. This is particularly difficult for someone with no disposable income or home but he manages. Be it showing strangers the way around town, finding some other veterans to reminisce with or some amazing discarded nudie magazines it is the little things that really matter, right? To some who have lived in the area for a while he may even be seen as a sort of local "celebrity" frequently seen making people passing by laugh and appearing in a youtube video or two giggling madly as "that creepy old guy" having jumped on the back of a teenager that thought homeless abuse is funny.

However with the passing of time it is harder and harder for him to truly do so as he finds it harder to provide for himself and the chance of his final days being spent in a proper home get slimmer by the moment with suicide being ever more enticing.

Occupation
He has no job, he survives going around the streets telling stories to people that might pity him, stealing from malls, he is not above eating stray animals particularly in the winter.

---

I went for something a bit different from what I originally imagined, but I think it turned out well.

Character [+]

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Alan

I'm alright, for now.

I grew up in what you'd call a bad neighborhood. Dad left us when I was a kid, so mom raised me. We were always poor, never had much. Things were tough, but I managed to survive long enough to pass high school. Went to community college, but I dropped out. Sorry, mom.

I went from job to job. Flipping burgers, cleaning toilets, whatever I could find. Sometimes, though, it wasn't enough, and I had to get...creative. Let's just say I've had my fair share of run-ins with the law. I don't enjoy it, but I don't have a choice.

For now, though, things aren't too bad. Nick is a...good business partner. He pays my bills, and I help him with his "errands". There's been a few close calls, but it's worked out pretty good so far. Don't know what's next after this, but for now, I'm alright.

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Physical Traits
Alan is 6'4", and has an athletic build. He tends to keep his hair short for convenience, and usually has a light stubble. While on the job, he wears the standard bouncer uniform: Combat boots, jeans, and a black polo shirt with "Nicky's" written where a shirt pocket would be. While not on the job, he prefers more casual clothes, usually sweatpants and a hoodie.

Full Name
Alan Gordon Foster

Gender
Male

Ethnicity
White

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
24

Motives
Alan is mostly concerned with survival- keeping food on his plate, and keeping himself out of prison. Past that, however, he isn't sure. He struggles to find what path in life he should take. He dreams of a time when he doesn't have to fight to survive, and can live a happy life without worrying about ending up on somebody's hit list.

Until then, he's stuck where he is. His current arrangement isn't too bad, but it could be a hell of a lot better.

Occupation
On paper, Alan is a bouncer at Nicky's Gentleman's Club, a seedy strip club in Baltham. While this is true- when the club is open, he works as a bouncer, checking ID's and kicking out rowdy patrons, it is not the whole truth.

The club's owner, Nicholas White, is a major drug dealer with mafia ties. The club itself is used to launder money, and to house drugs to be sent out to dealers across the city. Alan helps him carry out his business- attending drug deals, moving product, and occasionally dealing with threats to his operations. In return, Alan gets a slice of the profits. So far, it's proven to be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Due to the nature of his work, Alan carries a Glock 17 handgun on him almost all the time. While he has had some basic training on how to use it, his accuracy is passable at best.

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I was press-ganged into this, I swear

oh god here we go [+]

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<Snipped quote>

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Physical Traits

David is tall enough, standing at around 5’10, but due to his lifestyle change and thanks to the drugs he takes, he’s begun to grow a slight paunch in the stomach region. Still, David is broad-shouldered enough to still be considered “strong”, however the past few years have led to his once youthful strength to become diminished. He can lift and run, but his stamina has greatly been reduced. His hair is cut short, black with grey tinges forming on the edges. His hair has also begun to thin.

David’s clothes can be considered “bookish”. Glasses, tweed coats or all-weather jackets, slacks and nice shoes are his usual clothing when he has to leave. His once clean-shaven face is now considerably bearded, and whilst he does trim weekly, it has a habit of becoming wild and stringy, especially if he goes a day or two without washing.

Full Name

David Harrison Marlowe

Gender

Male

Ethnicity

Caucasion

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Age

34

Motives

David is continually chasing that one great story; the one that will cement him into the horror anthologies for the rest of his life. His books sell well enough and he has a fairly sizeable fan community, but beyond two books making the bestseller list, he’s never had “true” success like the industry giants. He constantly tries to find new ways to pull out the horror from his mind, but in recent months, he has constantly hit wall after wall.

He’s found various things to blame: and the latest has been his medication. He will occasionally try to come off his medication, only to be plauged with nightmares and anxieties that leave him almost catatonic, until he is forced to take them again to be normal again. Not that he ever feels normal anymore.

Occupation

Published Author

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Gideon So [+]

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Gideon So

Gideon was raised by FOB Korean parents, in a strict Christian household, but could never feel himself melding with his parents’ ideas of what they wanted him to be. While he wasn’t a terrible child, he minded them and did well in school, he never was quite on the same page as them. When he hit his teen years, the differences between he and his parents came to a head, and after a few stressful months or arguments over his future and career, Gideon finally left home 3 months before his eighteenth birthday.
You see, Gideon’s parents had always hoped he’d be some predictable, boring doctor or lawyer or something of that measure, but Gideon always had more exciting prospects for himself. Perhaps he’d join the military to see the world, an idea his parents liked, but he figured the rules and restrictions would be too stifling. He wanted more fun.

Soon enough, Gideon figured out he didn’t really know what he wanted to do at all, but as people usually do, he needed money. He found most jobs boring, but being a bike courier was a breath of fresh air for him. It was active, out in the bustling city, and most of all, it was fun. So, for a few years now, he’s been couriering packages across the city, while trying to figure out what he really wants to do, but, he’s not made much progress. At least he’s having fun.

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Physical Traits
Gideon is fairly short, standing at 5’6’’ but after a few years of cycling, has developed prominent calves and legs. While not exactly shredded, his upper body is still fairly toned, and he has obviously tan lines from all his time in the sun. His hair is growing out, getting long all around. Soon enough, he’ll have enough going to have a sweet man bun going.
When on his bike, Gideon is usually wearing a wide assortment of different clothes, sunglasses and helmets, usually a mismatched array of colors, mostly just to fit the weather. When off his bike, Gideon likes to just hang around in sweats and basketball shorts at home, but more fashionable, light techwear style clothing when out on the town.

Full Name
Gideon So

Gender
Male

Ethnicity
Korean-American

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
22

Motives
Mostly, Gideon is just trying to get the most out of life. He’s not quite sure where sees himself in the next twenty years or so, but he just wants to make sure the trip there is fun. Of course, he knows he needs to find something to really mete out a living further down the line, but he’s not at all discontent with where he’s at currently.

As much as he’d hate to admit it, Gideon would prefer to get rid of all the animosity between he and his parents. The fact that they’re on such bad terms bothers him a lot, and it’s something of a sensitive topic for him.

Occupation
Bike Courier

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Hider [+]

Today had been a particularly shitty day, hadn’t it? With rain soaking every inch of clothing he owned, Gideon leaned up against the cool concrete wall of the convenience store he’d just shopped in, finding little comfort sitting on small ledge at the bottom of the same wall. Stretching his legs up so far felt nice, but, just about as nice as the usual lactic acid burn could feel, really. All the water he drank just made him crave something more sugary and artificially flavored with every sip, but he’d never shred the left over baby fat he had if he kept indulging himself every chance he had. At the very least, the cold water helped him not feel so sapped from the suffocating humidity that blanketed him that day.

”D’ya think that God just likes raining on this city in particular? As, like, a big fuck you to us for existing, or something?” David, the other courier standing against a post in front of Gideon finally broke the silence between sips of his own water bottle.

”Couldn’t tell ya, David. I’m not exactly privy to God’s thought process or anything like that. I just deliver shit, man.”

”You even believe in God, G?”

”Thought I did,” Gideon began to rise and grunt on his words as he rose,”but, I realized that it didn’t really matter to me, right? My parents were freaks over that shit, woke up and went to sleep reciting prayers, sent me to Sunday school, all that. Despite it all, I just never really got into it.”

”Soo…. You’re an athiest?”

Gideon let out an exasperated sigh, as David laughed jokingly. ”I guess, man, if that’s what you wanna call me. I just don’t take the time to think about it.”

”You don’t ever think you might need him? I mean, traffic is getting worse by the day around this place, one day you might end up through some guy’s windshield, it wouldn’t help to have the big Arab Jew in sky on your side, ya know.”

”Pfft, how do you even know he’s human, dude? He could be a big… dream catcher or some shit like that.”

David let out a chortle. C’mon, I can’t go around these locals talking like that. They get mad anytime I even imply that Jesus wasn’t white. They’s probably start the crusades again if I said some shit like ‘dreamcatcher’.

Gideon chuckled. ”Yeah? Well, maybe then God would be too busy smiting our smartasses instead of pouring rain on us.”

David, who has mounted his bicycle and rolled over near the road, simply replied with a chuckle and “Shiiiiet.” before he pressed his pedal down and got his momentum going down the street.

Gideon chuckled, and slid his helmet back on, fastening the strap. He could feel his cold, wet clothing with a renewed obviousness, as finally standing up made everything slide and shift around. He poured the remainder of his water into the bottle on his cycle, and tossed the other bottle in a recycling bin before mounting his bike. As he slowly made his way back into the bike lane, he took in a deep breath of the thick, humid air, and then took off.

Of all things, Gideon was still thinking about God. His parents had been so fervent with their teachings of the Bible when he was a kid, he was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t ended up fanaticals like they were. He knew that forcing children into religious studies often made kids turn away from them even faster than they could even become acquainted with it all.

Maybe, one day, God would help he and his parent’s bond again. If anything was going to work, it’d probably have to be him.

here's my thingy

cs app [+]

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^{ꜰᴄ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ: ᴛᴏᴍɪᴀ}

Born to a family partly descended from Korean immigrants that had chosen to settle within Baltham, Washington during the Korean War, Noèle had lived two different lifestyles as she grew up. Despite Noèle's family having largely "Americanized" by the time of her birth, her home life remained largely unchanged from that of her relatives from Korea. Dishes such as Kimchi or Makchang, for instance, were as common in the Cheon household as pizza and burgers were in a school cafeteria.

By the time Noèle was thirteen or so, her brother—Eric—had wound up with the wrong crew. Being a hoodlum, Eric had spent time in and out of jail because of his ignorance to commit crime until he had found himself a nice cold cell for several years, as his guilty verdict dictated. Despite the fact that Noèle loves her brother dearly, and that she wishes he would stop being such an idiot and better himself, she hasn't spoken with him in quite some time.

Eventually, life had begun to change, as it always does, and Noèle had soon become an adult, finding her place among America's work force as an office assistant. Whilst her life as an adult isn't exactly royalty, Noèle has managed to keep herself afloat for the time being. Nonetheless, there are still many issues abound, such as ensuring bills are paid off or finding a suitable college-level school to go to, leaving Noèle's future uncertain.

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Physical Traits

Standing at one hundred and fifty four centimeters, Noèle is someone who has difficulty attempting to reach the top shelf. She retains a svelte, perhaps wispy build, largely due to her job and Noèle's insentience on staying active. Her light skin shines fair, appearing gentle and calm amidst her Asian features. Still, Noèle's hair and eyes lie on the darker side of the spectrum, with dark brown irises for eyes as well short, black hair that adorns the top of her head. When at home, she has a tendency to keep to casual clothing such as tees and sweatpants, though when Noèle does choose to go out she prefers to wear chic, or at least somewhat stylish clothing.

Full Name

Noèle Linn Cheon

Gender

Female

Ethnicity

Korean American

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Age

21

Motives

For someone still in her youth, Noèle has a to-do list of plans yet no time to cross anything off her list being the busy woman she is. She'd like to find her way out the minimum wage work force, perhaps by achieving a snazzy promotion or heading her own business, whatever that may be. Even more so, Noèle would prefer owning her own place rather than renting, even though bills and her current salary make that an impossibility. There also remains the case of forming a stable relationship with someone, though Noèle has had her thoughts towards putting such matters aside until her life allows her to settle down.

Occupation

Office Assistant

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@Star Lord

Ruby Song [+]

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Born in a very wealthy family in Seoul, Korea, Ruby wanted for nothing. It wasn't wrong to say that she was born with a silver spoon in a her mouth. She grew up in Korea, but after finishing high school, the family decided to move over to Baltham, Washington in the USA when her father made plans to expand his business overseas. All the whining, tantrums and complaints, she did were of no use, and all of her objections were ignored which left her a very unhappy girl. Adjusting to a new country with an entirely new culture was not easy. Fortunately, the blow was lessened by not having to cope with learning a new language as well, as English was something she grew up learning. To cope with homesickness, she opened up her own Youtube channel, where she talks about Korea, and explain its culture and music to those that are interested along with some gaming on the side. She does frequent vlogging after receiving great responses on her first couple of videos.

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Physical Traits
Ruby stands at 5 feet 6 inches and has a slender build. The first facial feature you’ll recognise of her are those highly distinctive chocolate brown eyes that she possess. Her face is oval in shape, her nose pert, and her lips a healthy shade of pink. In times of happiness, darling little dents of delight appears on her youthful visage, the dimples ever present whenever any form of smile or grin makes itself known. Her hair is a lovely shade of soot black that complements her fair ivory skin very well. Although she occasionally wearing her chest-level hair down, Ruby usually wears her hair up in a ponytail or plaited down her front to allow her ease of movement in her daily activities. Clothing wise, she tends to prefer comfortable clothing, such as hoodies, blouses, and printed t-shirts. Pants, along with an occasional dress are also common attire.

Full Name
Ruby Song Miyeon

Gender
Female

Ethnicity
Korean

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
20

Motives
Ruby has never been the type to succumb or give up in the face of adversity or bow down to challenges. Not entirely accustomed to life in Baltham yet despite being here for three years, she is determined to not be a loser and make the most of her new life her in America. She loves the saying, when live gives you lemons, make lemonade, and it is something she constantly reminds herself of. She is simply a girl trying to make the best of her unhappy life in a new country, not knowing what the future has in store for her.

Occupation
Student/Youtuber

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Eliza [+]

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Eliza

After being gone for so long I didn’t really feel like I fit in. I’ve always called Baltham home but after so many years it didn’t feel like one anymore, even my own parents felt like strangers to me. I needed to find a purpose in life again...as much as I hated the restrictions of my childhood I needed to serve.

So I became a cop, to show my parents that I wasn’t the piece of trash they thought I was. Things have gotten better since I joined the police force. Baltham is my community and for once I can truly be proud of who I am.

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Physical Traits
Eliza is 5’9”, and while she’s athletic her body doesn’t really show it. Her muscles are still toned and she’s in good shape but she’s gotten a little softer than she used to be. She keeps her auburn hair up in a bun when she’s working, off duty she lets it fall down to her shoulders letting her natural curls show. On duty she wears the standard uniform of the Baltham police: a black officers campaign cover, black short sleeve button up, black trousers, duty belt, plate carrier, and black boots. When she’s at home Eliza wears sweats, or those stretchy jeans with t-shirts that are probably a size too big for her.

Full Name
Eliza Ann Clark

Gender
Female

Ethnicity
White

Sexuality
Homosexual

Age
28

Motives
Eliza’s a workaholic so all that really motivates her is being proficient at her job. She’s always been mission focused and possessed an impressive work ethic which has served her well in life. Although now she’s slowly learning how to relax and enjoy life a little more. Still her only motivations are keeping herself afloat and being a good officer.

Occupation
Police Sergeant

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Here's what I've got!

Alright, here she is!

Character Sheet [+]

A little girl with a very big heart, and the desire to help in any way she can.

Most of Mahrie's life was spent under her parent's watchful care. She was born in Perouges, France on May 25th, 2004. She was brought up in a middle-class family that valued many things. Her parents volunteered with their church to help in city restorations, and periodically travelling around France for missionary work. On August 1st, 2014 her mother, Rubie Beaulieu died of Spinal Muscular Atrophy, a genetic disorder characterized by weakness and wasting in muscles used for movement.
After her mother died, Mahrie's father, Marc Beaulieu, volunteered for a permanent assignment as a Pastor at the Eagle Harbor Congregational church in Bainbridge Island, WA.

Moving was rough for Mahrie. Both sides of her grandparents had passed away when she was younger, so it wasn't so much missing friends and family, but having to learn a whole new language put a damper in her usually bright spirits. Primary school gave her a rough start as Mahrie had a very difficult time making friends. A year into her new education, most days would result in her coming home with tears in her eyes and evenings in her father's arms as he tried to comfort her through the confusion and distress.

On September 19th, 2018 her father was a victim in a drive-by shooting in Seattle while at a conference for his missionary work. While arrangements were being made for his funeral, Mahrie was given many invitations from families at her father's church to come and live with them while she dealt with her grief. All of which, she declined. Eventually, Mahrie was moved to a local orphanage with a small amount of children, some her age, most of them younger.
She continued to power through her studies, deciding early on in life that she yearned to be a doctor, to help people like her mom. And to be an author, so she could share with the world what an amazing man her father was, and how devoted he was to his family and his community.

[h.r]
Physical Traits
Mahrie prefers to wear her hair down, spread about her shoulders most of the time. Sometimes, she'll put it in a one-sided braid that she'll pull over one of her shoulders. She favors fun, colorful blouses most of the time, some with floral patterns, some plain, and is usually seen wearing darker blue jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie when roaming about.

Full Name
Mahrie Lizbeth Beaulieu (Mah-ree Bow-li-yoo)

Gender
Female

Ethnicity
Caucasian

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
16

Motives
Mahrie's parents' devotion to both her, and their community taught her at a young age to be compassionate, understanding, and willing to help in and way she could. Her mother taught her to keep powering through until the very end, no matter what the world throws at you. And her father left a legacy of helping anyone he could, but also finding a balance between his passion in his work and his daughter, giving care and compassion to both, equally.
Due to the experiences she’s had since moving from France to the United States, with bullying and sometimes not grasping “American” concepts quite as well, Mahrie lacks confidence in herself in times of emotional stress, sometimes feeling as though she isn’t good enough for what needs to be done.

Occupation
Young high school student, aspiring doctor and author.

Writing Sample [+]

"Maaahrie! It's time for dinner!" came the call from downstairs. One of the volunteers had just finished cooking an evening meal for all of the children. "Put down that book and get down here quick! Otherwise it's going to get cold again!" Mahrie couldn't help but smile in the moments after that call, for most of the volunteers here knew her tendencies to get caught up in her books and forget to eat completely.

"One moment!" she called back, aiming to quickly finish the page she was on before having to hurry downstairs. Her current read consisted of a mix between biographies of famous doctors, both old and new, and harrowing details of their lives, how they had come to find their passion, and the people they got to save and see smile once more.
Many times, Mahrie found herself lost in one of the many books she'd carry with her to school. Whether they be compelling fantasies, stunning biographies, or simply a newspaper article about finding a cure to an illness or a doctor who performed a miraculous surgery.

As she skimmed that last page, subconsciously reading it a few times over already, her mind wandered off in thought to some advice she had been given once, from one of the volunteers at the orphanage. It made her think about just how much she's in tune to the world around her, and perhaps how she's so dependent on reading to be happy that she misses out on everything going on around her.

"Y'know Mahrie, it's alright to take a break from reading sometimes. I know you love to read, but you should also pay attention to the world around you, before you miss anything."

"What do you mean when you say, anything?" she asked, glancing up at the woman momentarily as they strolled through the park.

The older woman chuckled quietly, reaching down and gently closing Mahrie's book as they stopped on the path for a moment.

"If you look around Mahrie, there's lots more to see than meets the eye. See the leaves falling? It's going to start getting colder, fall is almost here." the woman paused and pointed down at the grass bordering the pathway.
"And look, the ants are preparing for fall too. They're taking crumbs down to their Queen, so that they can stay underground when it starts getting cold." Looking back at Mahrie, there was some fascination in the child's eyes.

"But you learned that by reading about it, didn't you?"

"Yes, that is true," the woman said with a little chuckle, "but what good is reading about it if you can't experience it for yourself?"

"Hm, I guess that makes some sense. But I still want to finish my book." the child said, shrugging with indifference and diving back into her book.

The woman laughed in amusement, "I wouldn't expect anything different, Mahrie." she said, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulders and leading her down the path.

Aiana Carrera [+]

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AIANA

Born is Phoenix Arizona, she comes from a family of three with Aiana being the youngest. Her family wasn't the richest and her parents were frequently cutting costs and trying to provide for their children. This meant that the family often had to move because of job opportunities or rents that became too pricy. From Aiana's perspective, her father was either always at work or sleeping at home, while her mother was busy trying to figure out where they could save money. This made Aiana feel unwanted and ignored. Everytime she asked her mother to play when she was a little girl, her mother would just wave her off saying she was busy want wanted to be left alone.

When her mother passed at age 44, Aiana, being 13 years old, was moved to foster care. Her father had a burn-out and insurance sadly didn't cover all the costs. Aiana felt terrible there. She no longer had her brothers with her. The eldest brother was in college and the other one quit after high school to go straight to work.

At age 15, 2 years into foster care, she was adopted by a family who would take care of her until she was 18 years old and would go off to college. They would cover some of the costs if Aiana promised them good grades and a high SAT-score. She delivered and was also granted a scholarship because of it. Together with that money and the money from her foster parents, she went to college to pursue a career in archeology.

At age 22, just after graduating, she moved to Baltham to kickstart her career, thinking it was a place for innovation and opportunities.

Ailana speaks three languages: English (native), Spanish, and French. Her French proficiency was learned from her mother, who was a native speaker in the language. She took up Spanish classes in high school for extra credit and continued learning in college, mainly because she wanted to do an internship in Mexico.

Physical Traits
Ailana stands at just below 5.8 foot tall and has a slim yet athletic build. Her eyes are a dark shade of green and her lips have a light, almost rosy shade of pink.

When at work (mostly at excavation sites), she often has her hair in a somewhat messy bun and keeps her make-up light and natural, perhaps a bit of eyeliner to accentuate her eyes. The same light an natural look goes for her clothing. On most days you'll often see her with short jeans and a variety of tanktops.

Full Name
Aiana Arcéne Carrera

Gender
Female

Ethnicity
Caucasian / European American

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
24

Motives

Aiana is a girl that is very determined to get things done. She never really just stumbled into a situation by luck, but had to work for it instead. Doing the things she liked required money, money that she and her family didn't have. The lack of it bothered her as a kid and as a teenager. She always felt like other people took things for granted. This causes her to be jealous sometimes or condescending.

Growing up in a household with two brothers meant that she had to defend herself sometimes. Be it from banter or from rough play with her older and stronger siblings. This made her assertive and dominant. She doesn't let people waltz over her. She stands up for herself, even if it's not the best response in a given situation.

Furthermore, Aiana always tried to make the best of any given situation. She knows the world is unfair and doesn't always cater to ones needs, meaning that, if you want something to be done, you have to do it yourself. She lives by these words. She rarely relies on others and tends to act as a lone wolf. This doesn't mean that she can't work in groups, but it does mean that she does the majority of the work alone and often let others do the easy tasks that no one can mess up.

Occupation
Archeologist

---

Post will be edited in later. Bit busy right now, but here's the CS.

Okay, so I haven't done this in a while, and I'm not really experienced with all of the pretty formatting stuff. Also not a big zombie/post-apoc kinda guy, but this looked interesting and I'm looking to try something I haven't done before. I made two separate potential characters and I'm alright with running either and with the other becoming an NPC if you want. I'm always a sucker for characters who appear relatively straightforward but have a bit more nuance and hidden layers than one would think upon first glance. Anyways, I hope you like them!

Clay Capaldi [+]

[h.r]

CLAY

Clay's life story is a story of, well, winning. Did he come from the school of hard knocks? No. Has he had any significant tragedy or struggle to overcome in his life? Hey, making it big as an investor isn't easy! Does he bear any emotional wounds or carry any baggage that will make him a deeper or more relatable character? Nah. Clay was born to an upper-middle class family in New Jersey, the youngest of three children. His proudly Italian-American father owned a car dealership and his mother, originally from a coal-mining family from Eastern Kentucky, worked at a bank, eventually rising to become manager of the local branch.

Clay's upbringing was perfectly by-the-numbers average. He was popular with the other kids in school and managed to be a fixture on the sports teams without falling into being a stereotypical 'bully' towards the...let's call them 'less socially successful' children. He was never a great student, but always a good one. Grades weren't his focus. He always enjoyed the social aspect of things and making connections with people more. Let me tell you, this kid was precocious! He made his high school soccer team's starting lineup in his freshman year, had his fist kiss by age twelve, and had made it to 'second base' by fourteen. Oh yeah, he was school council president before he graduated. Who can say why he flourished as much as he did during that period? Maybe it was by virtue of being a youngest sibling and always having to play keep-up with children older than himself. Maybe it was the work ethic his parents instilled in him from an early age. Whatever the cause, he's always been a decisive man: one to jump eagerly upon opportunities and work hard to see them through.

And you know what? It's worked. It's really worked. Clay had a whale of a time in university. This guy was a campus legend, lemme tell you. He graduated with three solid job offers already on the table and a network of contacts that would make a veteran investor with a decade's worth of experience green with envy. A move to New York and a period of long workdays and loud, hard nights followed, but Clay just isn't the type to wear down or waver. I swear, never has there been a guy with so many friends and so few that really matter. There were women. Sure, there were women: ones he loved, ones who loved him, ones he thought he'd spend forever with. It didn't work out. Sometimes it was his sheer energy. It's not easy to keep up with a guy like him, but it is a must. Yeah, occasionally it was his ego, too. I mean, have you seen this dude? Money, style, and the kind of body that only comes from a careful diet and hours spent in the gym every day. Other times, however, people found him, dare I say it, a little bit shallow. It was these ones that...actually hurt. But Clay's Clay. His brother and sister have kids. He's okay with being the 'fun uncle': the one that his nephews and nieces secretly think is cooler than their dad, right? Besides, it's not like there's a shortage of opportunities for a rising star like himself to find someone who can match him, who can truly keep up with him. Man, why is that so hard to find?

[h.r]
Physical Traits
Tall, handsome, fit, and a damned natty dresser. This guy's healthy as a horse. He always seems to have just a bit of a tan, even in the dead of winter. You'll usually find him in a suit and tie, but it's not one of those frumpy things that a fifty-year-old middling manager will wear. His suits are bespoke. When he's not at work, Clay still doesn't exactly dress down. He won't be caught dead in something that isn't either designer or exercise wear. As for how he looks? Brown eyes, brown hair. Those are the only unremarkable things about him. You've seen the picture. You've got an imagination. Use it.

Full Name
Clay Matthew Capaldi

Gender
Male

Ethnicity
Italian-American

Sexuality
Yes.

Age
34

Motives
"I wanna be the very best, like no-one ever was!" Yeah, Clay grew up playing Pokemon. He ran a card-trading ring at his school that netted him a four-figure profit. I think, in a way, that sums him up. He's always just been a guy who 'goes for it', whatever 'it' may be at the time. He's always had a good sense for the way that things are headed and an ability to turn things that he enjoys into socially, financially, or romantically profitable enterprises. He views himself and his talents as the best tool for doing that and constantly looks for ways to improve that tool.

Beneath the surface is also a man who's probably a bit shallow, but maybe not to the extent that he initially seems. He wants what a lot of people want: independence, human connection, and agency. Clay definitely looks out for number one, though he's always up for helping people who are willing to help themselves. He doesn't like hurting others, but very much doesn't have time for what he considers complainers, mooches, or do-nothings. He's not about to be mean to them or belittle them. He'll just let them fend for themselves. That doesn't make him a big ol' cuddly teddy bear, however. While Clay may not enjoy stepping on others or stabbing them in the kidneys to get what he wants, he works in a ruthless industry and he'll do it if he thinks it's the most likely path to his goals.

While those vary and include both short and long-term, he ultimately wants to put himself in a position where he is entirely self-reliant, respected, and can enjoy himself. He goes big on enjoyment and recreation, though never irresponsibly so. To quote the somewhat tired adage: work hard, play hard. Oh yeah, as for what he's doing out on the west coast? An old buddy of his has moved out here. He's visiting the guy and totally not looking to speculate on the real estate market.

Occupation
Investment broker. Former college soccer player.

[h.r]

"Is there a God? I can't answer that, so I don't really think about it much, but there's no drawback to believing and a helluva lot of reward, so I'm gonna play the numbers on this one."
- Clay Capaldi

writing sample [+]

These guys, Clay thinks. He knows these guys. You're sitting in a restaurant, enjoying your food, and they kind of just slip in when the staff aren't paying enough attention.

"So, you ever pawned off a really dodgy stock on someone?" Maisie's asking. She's hot: all that apple-pie blonde hair in a pixie cut, fit little body. More than that, though, she's likeable. They can talk and it doesn't just feel like something you do because you're supposed to. This chick...she has energy, ideas. She doesn't just laugh at his jokes.

He takes a sip of his wine. The beggar's moving through the tables, glancing around furtively and flipping out that little card that explains how he's deaf and all that and shows you some basic signing. Clay doesn't buy it. He's seen one of these guys walk around a corner after fleecing a place like this, hop in a Mercedes almost as nice as his, and drive away.

Placing his glass on the table, he smiles ruefully. "Funny story, actually," he begins. "You remember that fiasco with Volkswagen back in '08?"

She dabs at a persistent wine stain on her dress with a serviette. "Oh God, only through reading about it. Did you get caught up in all that?"

Understatement of the century. I was new. Fresh out of university and looking to make a mark. I added an extra zero to something and... Partway through his thought process, he realizes that the truth won't go over well. Maisie's a good girl. She can party like the devil, but she has a conscience. Then, the beggar makes it over. His date glances awkwardly, guiltily, between the two men. "I've got you by the balls," the 'deaf' man's eyes say secretly, "and you know it."

We're going to cut a mutually beneficial deal here, Clay decides. You grow up with a friend who went deaf, you learn a bit of sign language. "If I give you some money, can I have a second card for my date?" he asks, all without uttering a word.

Maybe this one actually is what he claims to be. His response is clear and immediate. They have a couple more exchanges. Clay's sign language is rusty. He forks over a ten. He gets two little cards. "I didn't know you knew sign language!" Maisie exclaims. She has the smile: the one that says "I'm equal parts surprised and impressed. We're having sex later."

Volkswagen is forgotten.

Lana Harris [+]

[h.r]

LANA

Svetlana will tell you that she is an empowered, self-actualized, beautiful human being. She totally kicks ass and is like...super inspirational. Right? Her Instagram followers say so.

The truth, like many things in life, is not so straightforward. She's done damage before. She knows it. She's trying to be a good daughter and sister and just, you know, human being. Until recently, she probably hasn't made the best life decisions, but there's only been one really disastrous one.

She was five years old, back in Mother Russia. Those early days, in a small industrial city along the Volga River, come back to her from time to time in a rose-coloured haze of disjointed images, sounds, and sensations. She was playing by the train tracks. She and a boy - maybe her older brother - decided to climb onto a parked train. She was small. She was nervous. The train started moving. She fell. Her right leg and her life in Russia both met their end as a result.

Well-off, Middle American evangelical Christian families love to adopt children like her. She was lucky. Her childhood wasn't always easy, but it was full of love. English was hard to master. There are times when she still wonders if she really has the same, deep level of understanding that her peers do. Growing up as an amputee was no cakewalk, but the first few years were just an endless stream of encouragement, positive reinforcement, and personal-interest pieces in local papers. She was a gymnast - a good one. People clapped for her. They told her how amazing she was. It was addictive.

Then her teens hit, and there was no way that a one-legged gymnast was going to take the pursuit past a recreational level. Then, she was different from the other girls and she could see it in their eyes and hear it in their whispers. Then, the hint of an accent that she still carried mattered. Insecurity is a bitch. It causes you to do some really dumb things, to lie, to self-inflate, to please people at any cost, and everything that approach earns you is built upon pillars of sand. Besides, Lana's never been a good liar.

Those years were a kaleidoscope of blue/purple/green hair, bad scene music and subculture, videogames, livestreams, and nights in a friend's basement, hitting a bong and eating pizza. Somehow, she made them work. She's still dangerous with a controller. She still loves games. University was an opportunity for something different, though, for a new her, and she moved out to Seattle, away from a friend group that was headed nowhere fast and parents who had become aggressively concerned and ever-more religious.

So, what - or,rather, who - is Lana now? She's a twenty-four-year-old indie game designer. She's a clean-living, gym membership owning, Prius driving, pescatarian yoga enthusiast. Is she religious? Well, she believes that there's something out there. Talk about doing a 180. She has friends. She takes artistic pictures of her food and street scenes and herself posing in silhouette on beaches. She has a social media presence. This, she supposes, is happiness, but she also remembers the happiness of her childhood. Why does this feel so...different?

[h.r]
Physical Traits
Virtually everything else is secondary to the first thing that you notice about Lana: she has one leg. Like, really one leg, to the point that it's not very practical to wear a prosthetic. She uses forearm crutches instead. If you're able to look past that, though, you'll see a pretty blonde girl with big eyes and a shy smile. You'll notice just what kind of great physical shape she's worked herself into. On days that aren't sweat pants-uggs-and-messy-bun affairs, her clothing will usually show off that hard work. Lots of yoga pants, cutoff shirts, and gym shoes going on here. Yeah, thee's the occasional cosplay too.

Full Name
Svetlana 'Lana' Harris

Gender
Female

Ethnicity
Caucasian - Russian

Sexuality
More or less heterosexual.

Age
24

Motives
On a surface level, Lana just wants to live the life. It's a big, beautiful world, and she's always been curious. She wants to eat it all up.

Beneath that, however, is a desire to make sure that people can see how she's 'living the life'. Maybe she has to prove to herself that she has some value or that she's a good, worthwhile person. Maybe she really doesn't care and is just drifting along the river of life, reaching out occasionally and grabbing hold of the things that interest her. It changes. She's pointedly trying to relax. In the past, she's had issues with being anxious, afraid, and (self) judgemental, but people can mold themselves into something else, her self-help books have told her, and she believes that she's well on her way.

The most important part of that is being nice to people. Lana always tries to be nice to people. The second is just exuding that confident aura. She's become a real flirt lately. Finally, it's about being able to laugh at herself. She makes a point of doing it. It's easy to make self-deprecating jokes when you're a one-legged, peace-and-love yoga chick. She's still working on laughing at other people's jokes about her, though. It'll come. She doesn't worry. Nope, not a bit.

Occupation
Indie videogame developer

[h.r]

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and...pfft, sorry, I can't say this with a straight face."
- Lana Harris

writing sample [+]

The sun sits on the horizon: a vast, overripe peach ready to sink beneath the waves. Shadows break out across the sand and race to cover everything. This is it. Lana tilts her head to one side and smiles. "click!" She can feel it. It's not something as calculated as waiting for the right lighting or having the right angle. She's been working on trusting her instincts, artistic and otherwise. Your inner voice just knows. Another tilt, another smile, another picture. She hops a few steps down the beach. The wind catches her oversized button up and it billows outwards, a big white sail with lil' old her inside of it. "click!"

The few lingering families are leaving, towels, beachballs, and buckets in hand. It's all photogenic young people straight out of a Levi's ad now. Do I qualify? asks an inner voice. She chooses not to ignore it. Of course you do, Lana answers herself.

A couple of groups, further down, are starting bonfires. She can see that her friends are among them. "Hopper!" one of them calls. Squinting into the setting sun, she uses her hand as a visor. "Graham!"

"Get your ass over here. We're doing veggie dogs."

It's okay to cheat on the diet once in a while. She counsels herself. Live by your own rules. "Coming!" she replies, waving cheerfully. Her crutches are lying on the ground nearby. She takes a deep breath. The sea breeze fills her nostrils. Closing her eyes, she lingers, stretching her arms out to either side: a human cross in the sunset. Her toes dig into the sand. She revels in the feel of the individual grains and the warmth that lingers, beneath the surface, even after the sun disappears.

And here we go:

Kent Archer [+]

---

Kenneth, or Kent, is a native to Bainbridge Island. Like many others who came before him, he grew up exploring the natural wildlife trails, camping, and fishing on the sound. He fell in love with the picturesque environment and became an aspiring outdoorsman. Of course, his parents had more ambitious plans for their son, such as attending medical school to become a doctor, but that did not stop him from answering his true calling and returning to his roots. Naturally, when the time came for him to open up his own family practice, he chose to settle back down in Bainbridge.

Things remained small those first several years, his quaint office along the waterfront consisting of only himself, his friend Jerry, who served as his assistant, and his wife Emily as his personal secretary and receptionist. Even when word began to spread of his reputation as a humble and competent physician, Kent preferred to keep his practice small and manageable. This allowed for a more personable experience for his patients, and even accounted for quite a few friendships over the years. The only notable addition he made was his son, Curt, who joined the team as a second physician at the age of 29. Kent hoped that he would serve as heir for when he moved on to pursue other ventures.

Unfortunately, that would happen sooner rather than later. With the increase of big business and other residential and retail development in the area, the health care system became more standardized and strict with their procedures. As a result, more hospitals joined together into networks to coordinate and deliver a broad spectrum of services to the community and to stay up to date with the current initiatives passed down from the government. They often targeted small private practices to consolidate into their system; Kent’s family business was no exception.

Despite a hard battle, Kent could not withstand the constant pressure from these entities and ultimately decided to retire. His son, however, did not agree to follow in his father’s footsteps; he caved to the hospital networks and joined their team of doctors, causing a falling out between father and son. Kent has not spoken to Curt in nearly two years, his decision continuing to remain a point of contention between the two.

Now that he is retired, Kent finally has the time to fully embrace and appreciate the natural beauty of the landscape he came to love as a child. He has opened a bait and tackle shop and occasionally conducts fishing excursions for the tourists...or anyone willing to pay for his services. He remains close to his wife and his best friend Jerry, who is often seen hanging around the shop with the usual crowd of middle-aged prattlers and retirees. Life couldn’t be any better.

---

Physical Traits

Now that he no longer has to worry about maintaining a professional appearance in front of his patients, Kent has adopted a more rugged look in recent years. Depending on your opinion, some may call it disheveled or lazy. Tired, blue eyes peer out of a weathered face with grizzled features, a layer of stubble often covering his chin and cheeks. His shock of gray hair, while still kept at an acceptable length, is often tousled and greasy. He may have also grown a little soft around the middle with age, but he has managed to sustain an average weight for his fairly tall frame, standing at nearly 6’2.”

Kent’s clothes are what many would consider typical for the outdoorsman – plaid, flannel shirts, sometimes quilted depending on the weather, Carhartt jacket, sturdy boots, and a pair of dependable blue jeans.

Full Name

Kenneth William Archer

Gender

Male

Ethnicity

Caucasian

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Age

63

Motives

Having raised a family and worked for nearly 40 years of his life, Kent is on the downward slide and is seeking enlightenment more than anything. He is looking to find contentment for himself and his current situation, especially as he heads into his waning years. That is why he has turned his attention to nature; it is the one thing that brings him the most joy and helps him to fully relax. After all, the goal is to enjoy his retirement...even if it was thrust upon him by circumstances that were beyond his control. For that reason alone, he may also hold a bit of a grudge against those responsible.

And while he will never openly admit it, even to those close to him, Kent is also hoping to reconcile with his son and make amends for the incident that drove them apart. He still loves him and wants to share his life with him once more.

Occupation

Retired Family Physician; he now owns and operates a small bait and tackle shop on the waterfront.

---

Writing Sample [+]

“Rosa. Rosa Ramirez.”

With a cynical scoff, Kent Archer set down the coffee pot and turned to regard the imposing man sitting in his usual spot near the door in the antiquated lawn chair, worn and frayed around the edges. He knew that it wasn’t the most appealing of first impressions for his customers, particularly the tourists, but Kent was willing to give it a pass. After all, it almost seemed to fit with the rugged charm of his shop, complete with the various fish mounts decorating the walls and the distinct earthy smell that had permeated the small space long ago.

But of course, there was also another reason for his complacency; the man sitting in that chair was one of his oldest friends, Ray Marston. Kent had met the old bastard back in college, and the two had remained close ever since, often taking weekend excursions up into the hills when the weather decided to cooperate. He couldn’t just displace the man, especially when he had grown accustomed to listening to Marston’s incessant ramblings. His day wouldn’t have been complete without the usual banter.

In this case, he did not disappoint. The topic of the day had turned toward the elusive Rosa Ramirez. Kent had known her in passing, having attended several classes with her back in the day. What he didn’t realize was that Marston had felt more than a simple attraction to the woman. He now took great pleasure in learning the hard facts as his friend told the tale.

“She was wicked and wild,” Ray continued in his rich baritone, shaking his head with a wry grin.

This elicited a small chuckle from Kent, who pressed his back up against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh no, here it comes…”

“Hey, this is no lie.” Ray raised his hand defensively, lifting his brow as if to challenge Kent to continue down that path. “It was 1985. Rosa...she was the one. I’m telling you, the one that got away.”

Kent ran a hand through his hair with exasperation. “Ah, shit,” he muttered as he pivoted on his heel and returned his attention to the coffee pot. “I think I better pour you a cup before you go ahead and confess the rest of your dirty secrets to the entire city. I don’t think Maggie would appreciate that too much.”

Marston smirked at the mention of his wife. “Hell, sometimes I think she would join in just to embarrass me...she loves to see me squirm. You know how that is.”

“Maybe a little too well.” He returned the smile and stepped around the counter to hand the other man a ceramic mug.

As Marston cupped the mug in both hands and nodded his gratitude, the bell above the door jangled as it swung open to admit a tall, bearded man with thinning gray hair and his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his denim jacket. Kent recognized Jerry Farmer instantly; the two had grown up together on the same street and were practically inseparable. Jerry later served as Kent’s assistant for nearly 40 years at his family practice before the system forced them both to retire. Now they were content to simply hang out at his shop, sharing old memories and gossiping about the happenings in the city. Their friendship never waned throughout the years, and along with Ray, they completed a perfect trinity that could never be shaken.

“Mornin', Jerry,” Kent called with a casual wave, returning to his post behind the counter with a leisurely gait.

Stomping his boots on the mat out of habit, Jerry acknowledged the two men with a curt nod before proceeding to his usual spot next to the register. He raked his fingers through his beard and exhaled heavily. “You know I’m not one to rush in here and demand food, but damn...I’m hungry.” He lifted his chin, gesturing towards Kent. “You got anything back there while you fix me up some coffee?”

An impish smirk slowly came to Kent’s features. “Well, let’s see,” he drawled slowly, pausing to study Jerry carefully. Despite his playful disposition, his voice held a certain calm. “I’ve got some cheese and crackers, some summer sausages, there’s tomatoes...I think.” He shrugged, almost as if he was mentally checking off items on his list. “Uh, there’s peaches I got at the farm stand. There might be some corn somewhere. Hamburger in the fridge, noodles in the closet.”

Jerry’s brow furrowed with uncertainty, seemingly at a loss for words. It took all of Kent’s willpower not to break his composure, especially when the other man actually pushed away from the counter to go searching for the aforementioned delicacies.

He started to step around Kent, but then stopped, angling his chin to give his friend a suspicious look. “You’re shitting me, aren’t you?”

This time there was no holding back; both Kent and Ray burst out laughing at Jerry’s expense. “I think there’s some peanuts somewhere,” Kent admitted after he managed to bring himself under control, “or you can help yourself to the snack aisle. My treat. I just had a delivery this morning and all the shelves are stocked. I even got a bunch of those little creme cakes you like so much.”

“Sounds like a nutritious breakfast, Kent,” Jerry sighed with a hint of sarcasm, a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Hey, Jerry!” Ray interjected, leaning forward in his lawn chair. “Have I told you about Rosa Ramirez?”

And on and on it went.

@Skelm I've gotta say, I like Kent a lot. We need more characters over age thirty.