Guess we'd best get through the formalities first...
Character you have created: The Vigilante
Alias: Isaac Fontaine
Speech Color (Actually say what you're using, don't go "Like this", or what not): When it comes back up, courier new, regular white on black with bold. Without bold for “thought quotes”.
Character Alignment: Hero with shades of grey
Identity: Secret and paranoid about keeping it so.
Character Personality (Give information on how your character acts, what he/she believes in, how they handle situations):
Mid-to-late 20s but has been fighting crime in his way for well over a decade. Slight frame but well cut as a former light middleweight amateur boxer in school. Not a big man for someone with his “hobby” – slightly over 6 feet and put in a lot of work just to get to 180lbs – but gets by through intimidation and reputation which leads people to believe he’s a bigger man than he actually is when they see him in person. Was the sole heir to a very wealthy family but lives/eats like a bum – a lot of microwaveable food, and quick-to-prepare meals. Everything about him screams of “Practical over aesthetics” from his straight black costume, to his unkempt appearance in his other life. He’s someone who plans his actions thoroughly, but will often lash out speaking his mind thoughtlessly with little concern for the consequences. That doesn’t mean that he is beyond remorse, merely speaks brashly.
Uniform/costume:
Fontaine is more about effectiveness than style, as such everything he takes/wears has to be justifiable. He wears a black balaclava, generic black tracksuit top and pants, strapped with duct tape at the wrists and ankles to avoid leaving DNA evidence, wears rubber surgical gloves under leather gloves allowing him to remove leather gloves for greater dexterity.
Origin Info/Details:
Born in the mid-80s, his was a remarkable situation. A very rare condition saw his mother’s body treating the foetus as a disease/obstruction, her immune system attacking the baby and leaving the mother dramatically weakened and needing an extremely pre-mature c-section. In what was previously thought to be a zero survival rate case, Isaac Fontaine the miracle baby was born in uncomfortable silence. His nerves fused in such a way as to not allow the sensation of pain to travel through to the receptors in his brain as his body managed to somehow naturally adapt to prevent the foetus dying of shock. Due to disuse and redundancy his brain’s pain receptors atrophied away to nothing. His mother’s body however was ravaged and weakened by the birth, dying in the hospital. Her body died fighting the baby her mind wanted so badly. The father named the child Isaac, as was his mother’s wish and he raised the child as she would want, despite some deep-seeded resentment towards the child for being the cause of death to the woman he loved so much.
The boy and his father would eat at the dinner table with the evening news on in the background, and his father would comment on it with the problems of the day (his father was a brash, opinionated man, just as the son would be – he was also grooming him to one day rise to fill his shoes in the corporate world). A liberal government combined with the news would lead to great rants from the conservative father, about the government being out of touch and needing to crack down on the criminal youth element (gangs and organised crime were becoming increasingly prevalent in Terraria through the 90s-early 2000s). One phrase which was repeated often which would resonate in the younger Fontaine’s ears: “Something has to be done”.
Fast forward a few years, and a young Fontaine is playing soccer, representing his boarding school, the young Isaac was taken out via a slide tackle from a vastly bigger boy from a rival school with a bullying reputation. Isaac got to his feet and shoved the bully who countered by punching Isaac in the face. Isaac had his feet set and took the brunt of the blow, returning fire with a shot that broke his nose and sat the behemoth on his arse. The following season he was urged into boxing as word passed through the school of the soccer incident. That next winter he also moved into rugby as he grew to love the positive response and reputation he got as a fearless, loyal teammate who would throw himself in to play support regardless the odds for success… coming out on top more often than not.
His first vigilante moment came at 16, when he saw an old man get mugged by 5 punk kids who stole his wallet and, seeing that nobody around was looking to oppose them, kicked the old man in the chest and walked away laughing. Fontaine’s dark scowl reflected his posture as he hunched in an intimidating fashion over the wheel. Observed the 5 walk to their car and trailed them back to a house. Fontaine picked off the residents one or two at a time, found the wallet and fled. From the security of his car he saw the wallet had been picked clean of cash, after a brief stop he returned the wallet plus $200 to its rightful owner after knocking on the door and leaving the wallet on the step whilst checking from a safe distance. The old man’s heart dangerously skipped a beat when he found it brimming with currency, but all was well and a hero was born.
A year later his father was mugged and bled out in a backstreet after leaving through a backdoor avoiding current affairs reporters who had been harassing their way to the top due to the poor behaviour of a comparatively lower down representative of the company. With this event a hobby mutated to obsession as his father’s words echoed with meaning now greater than ever.
With access to new wealth from his passing father, an empty house to work towards his fixation and the additional alibi of taking some time off to mourn the passing of his father added to his rapidly improving methods and the cool, fearless head which led to many calling him “Iced veins” Fontaine, Isaac now threatens to be the biggest blight on crime yet… if the police and a Premier seeking re-election don’t take him down first.
Now in the last year or so his life has become quite a bit more chaotic... but that isn’t his origin.
So far in this part of the game he has travelled to this "new dimension"...
Due to interdimensional hi-jinks (he kicked an alternate world version of himself out of his own world - along with the device which provided him with his only way back) he is a "man with no destiny", and "non-conductive" to magic. This point helped him immensely in Lost Haven's recent D-Day (short for Demon Day) disaster, where he was remarkably efficient in fighting demons; literally tearing through them in mass quantities like they were nothing. He was instrumental in helping to close the portal (of magical origin he was able to punch through it, disrupting the integrity of the portal and providing a flaw that other heroes were able to exploit and overload the portal with energy).
He then passed out due to blood loss (having had a finger torn off his hand) and was rushed to a confidential emergency health clinic known by the Lost Haven hero Icon.
Having taken his leave of the hospital (with what limited documentation they had pertaining to him) he spent a few days recovering before enrolling in Lost Haven University. He has not been seen in costume since D-Day...
And we are about to find out why...
Hero Type (Select one):
Leans closest to Normal, with slight aspects of muscle, acrobat and intelligence.
Power Level (Select one below):
Going by the level of his actual powers you would say 1. By definition he watches over his home city though.
Powers (Be Specific):
Inability to feel pain. Very minor healing factor that allows him to heal perhaps 50 percent faster than regular people. "Non-conductive" to magic (not by his own will). What this "non-conductivity" means is that magic and or magical creatures can not exist in his presence/to his touch. Magic can not be used directly on or against him (although technically could be used indirectly - for example if a magic user were to levitate a large mass of the ground underneath him, it could work. Levitating Isaac himself, would not).
Attributes:
Strength Level: High level human. Pain no factor.
Speed/Reaction Timing: High level human.
Endurance at Maximum Effort: Above regular level human since not held back by pain barrier.
Agility: Held to human level.
Intelligence: Borderline genius intellect by human terms. Particularly suited to his own lifestyle.
Fighting Skill: Heavily influenced by boxing where he gained experience as a high school amateur boxer. Will kick, but generally when opponent is exposed. More power than finesse, will occasionally break his own bones/harm himself trying to take out opponents. Knows some counters in other martial arts but is far from a master in any. Looks to intimidate. Not opposed to inflicting serious injury to self or opponents in combat. Better at fighting against knives than with one himself, since training low and he’s largely self-taught from a decade of crime-fighting. Not a good marksman due to his inexperience/fear of possible harm to innocent bystanders and largely abhors guns in general.
Resources: Large but not obscene to Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark/Danny Rand levels. Family was wealthy as father was banking high-up and left with vast inheritance. Rents numerous places in Lost Haven as “safe houses”, this allows/results in him living in a number of places and not really considering anywhere in this new city home.
Equipment: Nightsticks (previously jimmy-sticks), grappling hook gun/bolt gun (which he carries both piercing bolts and “concussion” dulled-head bolts), “flash-bang” grenades, balaklava, $500 in cash, spare cable/hooks, duct tape, Omni-tool (a swiss-army knife like small handheld device which has a cutting tool, lock-picking set, lighter and numerous other basic functions). Will occasionally carry light pack with other ordnance/equipment.
Weaknesses: Poor marksman, but doesn’t really use firearms anyway. Is very intelligent, but needs it focused to be applicable. Quite (extremely) socially maladjusted; too frequently speaks his mind. Is only human in a world of superhumans. Inability to feel pain results in more serious injuries since he pushes his body to further and further extremes. "Non-conductive to magic" - while this can be a strength, it also leaves him at a disadvantage at times around those people who do utilize magic. In previous continuity he had relied heavily on a magic-based teammate who was a healer. In his current state, this would no longer be possible.
What can you bring to the RPG: The same thing I bring every season, Pinky...
Sample Post:
Headquarters of The Agency – Lost Haven
Isaac left Flux’s quarters and walked down a hall way towards his own private room. He strove to put her drive her words from his mind with every stride. He needed a distraction. Someone to hit, a problem to solve, something to do. Anything.
Or failing that, solitude.
Entering his room and closing the door behind him, he felt it all wash away with a soothing tic-tic-tic sound which had been growing ever more on him. A warm smile crossed his face, a rarity of its kind, as he let his defences drop as much as he could allow in this building. They were raised again when his hand brushed against a foreign object resting on his bed as he sat down.
It looked like a toy gun of sorts. Made of clunky ostentatious yellow plastic, written on the gun in light purple writing when he held it up to the light to show it in better relief it said:
From Megan –
Do not tamper with inner-workings.
Keep in this world.
Hope you enjoy.
Examining it closer he saw that it wasn’t a decal, it was comprised of yellow plastic and light purple plastic, never separated and not painted. Those were its colours. With no visible join.
“She had to have made it.” He muttered to himself. He didn’t have a microscope handy but he was willing to bet it was indeed constructed down to a molecular level. He rubbed his jaw in contemplation. “Keep in this world”. Sounds both foreboding and intriguing. What could she have meant by that?
One thing’s for certain he didn’t intend to tinker with it. When a god-like entity, even in the form of a little girl, gives an instruction like “Oh, and don’t eat that fruit” or “Mind you don’t open that box, Pandora” it’s generally a good idea to leave well enough alone and play by those rules. Besides, he probably wouldn’t know how it works even if he did crack it open and something about the “Keep in this world” suggested to him that it was one of those situations where letting others know about it would probably be a bad idea. “Hope you enjoy” suggests it’s a present and for him alone.
He strolled around his bed, looking at it and swapping it from hand to hand, letting these thoughts swirl in his head. His mind was already made up, he leaned against the door to his quarters in case someone heard something and tried to come in. Raised the gun, flinching away from it, not knowing exactly what to expect and pulled the trigger.
A loud sound like material tearing was heard and a whirling bright white wormhole appeared. It seemed to produce its own energy to counterbalance the effect of diffusion, meaning nothing was being pulled into the portal. There was no wind, not even a gentle breeze. The normality of a hole leading somewhere, probably “another world” by Megan’s note made him more nervous than if pulling the trigger had sucked him through. He walked around the other side of the portal and it was transparent, he could see the door to his quarters. It was only visible from the side you could enter it from. He considered putting his hand through the wormhole from the other side just to see what would happen and then thought against it. It didn’t seem like something to be trifled with.
He looked back through it from the regular side and watched as it started to flicker slightly dimmer. It was weakening. He waited and the portal kind of fizzled out. Collapsing upon itself.
He put his hand over his mouth and rubbed his chin again. “Geez-us f***-ing…”
He opened the door and surveyed the hallway. Nothing. Apparently it hadn’t been loud enough to raise anyone’s attention. He closed the door again.
Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic.
This time the gentle sound didn’t help him any, because he’d already made his mind up.
Leaning against the door a second time, he pulled the trigger. The vertical white portal showed itself in roughly the same place as the last one.
He breathed deeply and stepped through.
And as the portal closed all that remained was the gentle ticking.
Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic.
