A roleplay by Tyler & Shard. We are currently not accepting applications.
[Setting the scene]
After a mutant uprising in 2006, what little development that had been made towards Mutant-Human relations was all but forgotten, and the world feared mutants once more. With its funding cut, the Government Academy for Mutant Education was forced to close its doors. But by the time the 2012 elections came around, all that seemed about to change.
The People for Equal Aid of Citizens Everywhere (PEACE) had been causing quite a storm in the political landscape for several years, and it showed in the results. Miraculously, PEACE won the election and their leader, Nathaniel Goode, promised to use his presidency to bring about equality for all: be they rich, poor, black, white, straight, gay, mutant or otherwise. And he made good on his promise. Goode and his government worked tirelessly to lessen the divide between different facets of society. Sure, there will always be racists, homophobes and bigots in the world... But under PEACE governing, America (and, in its tracks, most of the Western world) has made huge progress towards their Equality For All pledge.
Alas, it seems that much of the remaining tension in the world is directed towards mutants. Perhaps in response to this, most of PEACE's work for mutantkind has been somewhat discreet. The Protection of Mutants through Education act was reinstated, but under the greater umbrella of the Equality For All amendment, and as such largely went unnoticed. And indeed, the neglected GAME campus was given a complete refurbishment and re-opened to the public... Under the guise of the Portwood Institute for Talented Youths, a school which never seemed to publicly address the fact that it was tailored specifically for the development of young mutants.
But, whilst PEACE seem reluctant to take ownership of the work they are doing for mutantkind, most mutants are just thankful it's being done at all. They are legally protected and have a state-of-the-art school for their youth opening its doors this summer.
You are among the first generation of students to grace PITY's halls in almost a decade... And like any new school, you can bet there are going to be teething problems in abundance.
[Key information]
RP Level: High-Casual Genre: Modern fantasy, superpower, school, slice of life, character-driven GMs:@Tyler, @Shard Players: 14 Join status:CLOSED
Hello, and welcome to the Out of Character thread for PITY. I'm Tyler and I'll be your tour guide & reigning GM. PITY started off as an idea I had back on the Oldguild, where it went by exactly the same name. It's really a roleplay born from disillusionment: both with real-world politics and with the quality of superschool roleplays that were available at the time. I wanted to create something that reflected those ideas, and the Portwood Institute for Talented Youths was born.
It took off, though it is safe to say it rode firmly on the coattails of the infinitely more successful 'Gifted Learning Institute' of Oldguild member TopHat. It died after a few weeks, due to a combination of ill-timing (beginning the roleplay at the start of exam season) and a cast that was decidedly... mixed. I took a long break from roleplaying after that and recently returned to the Guild this year. After miraculously finding all the old resources for the roleplay on my harddrive, thinking them lost, I pitched the original idea to Shard and we began to work on it and adapt it for a modern climate. After all, I first conceived PITY when I was 16. There were definitely creases that needed to be ironed out.
Shard and I are really determined to give our all to this roleplay and to get it the traction we feel it deserves. We are making a conscious effort not to repeat the mistakes I made last time, and so we have timed the beginning of the roleplay to coincide with Summer break and will be scrutinising character sheets to make sure we get a good, solid cast of unique and interesting characters.
We welcome all roleplayers who share our sensibilities for high-quality content that has depth and originality.
[Rules & Notes]
[1.01] No godmodding, metagaming, powerplaying, autohitting, etc.
[1.02] Swearing, alcohol, drugs and sex are fully permitted in the RP.
[1.03] The roleplay will be fast-paced. You are encouraged to post at least 2-3 times a week. [1.03.5] Roleplayers who fail to post for one whole week without notice will become Inactive.
[1.04] The roleplay is high-casual. All posts should contain good spelling, grammar and detail.
[1.05] We value creativity and experimentation. Treat the roleplay as an opportunity to exploit this.
[2.01] The GMs have the final say. [2.01.5] We encourage roleplayers to have an opinion and to argue their case, with respect to rule [2.01].
[2.02] The majority of OOC discussion should relate to the roleplay. [2.02.5] Roleplayers are encouraged to join the PITY groupchat on Skype or casual chatter.
[2.03] No offensive language will be tolerated. Non-abusive swearing is fine.
[2.04] Debate and disagreements are fine in the OOC; personal disputes are not and should take place elsewhere.
[2.05] In general: treat other roleplayers with kindness (or at the very least, common courtesy).
[3.01] All characters should be aged between 16 and 19.
[3.02] Characters of any race, gender, nationality, sexuality & background are welcome. Please write respectfully and avoid gimmicks.
[3.03] Imperfect characters are encouraged. Please write respectfully regarding background, mental health etc.
[3.04] Roleplayers may play a maximum of two characters at any given time.
[3.05] We value creativity and experimentation. Please treat your application as an opportunity to exploit this.
[3.06] Please post all applications in the main OOC thread. [3.06.5] Do not under any circumstances post characters to the 'Characters' thread until they have been approved.
[3.07] Include the word 'storm' in your sample post, to let us know you've read the rules.
[3.08] All sheets must use the format provided. Please remove any instructive text and replace it with your own content. See my own character sheet for reference.
Country: Upstate New York, USA Time: Summer 2015 Government: PEACE Party President: Nathaniel Goode
[Recent history]
Rumours of fantastically gifted people being born had been circulating for years, but mutants first made themselves officially known in the early 80s. Sick of hiding and being shunned from their communities, the Mutants Against Prejudice organisation was formed. MAP took their case to the White House, where they explained the importance of education on both sides; the public must be taught that mutants are not a threat, and mutants themselves must be taught to control their abilities in order to avoid accidents.
Faced with little option, considering what these people were capable of, the Protection of Mutants through Education bill was passed. Part of this involved setting up a school specifically for young mutants, where they would be taught to control their powers and blend into normal life. Alan Portwood, a member of MAP with a wealth of teaching experience, was elected to run the school, which became known as the Government Academy for Mutant Education; GAME.
However, not all went to plan. Whilst Portwood and his school were a huge success, little was done to convince the public that mutants were not a threat, and there was still a lot of global hostility towards the gifted. But Portwood's teachings encouraged mutants to persevere; one day, he said, humans would recognise them as equals.
By 2006, it seemed that day would never come. Disillusioned and enraged, a group of mutants graduating the school, now with expert control over their abilities, took a stand and attacked the White House. Each of the group was swiftly terminated by armed forces before they could cause any harm to the president, but the damage was done elsewhere: now, the world feared mutants more than ever. The PME act was overturned and GAME was closed, seemingly for good. Mutants were back where they started; shunned by their communities and forced into hiding.
But now, it's 2015. The new, liberal 'PEACE' government has reinstated the Protection of Mutants act, and after years of closure the GAME academy is now re-opening its doors; with a complete refurbishment and a new name in honour of its founder, the Portwood Institute for Talented Youths. Everything seems to be heading in the right direction for mutantkind again... Or is it?
[What is a mutant?]
'Mutant' is the commonly accepted name for humans who have developed non-human talents through genetic mutation. There is no specific 'mutant gene' that is passed down through generations, it is a rare mutation that occurs randomly and, despite being public knowledge for over thirty years, very little is known about it. Mutants are always human-looking to a degree, but some may have physical mutations to accompany their intrinsic abilities. This can range from an abnormal hair or eye colour to more dramatic traits such as scaled skin or height abnormalities, for example. Note that most mutants do not have these traits and, when not using their powers, can easily pass as regular humans.
Abilities tend to materialise during the later teen years, often around the age of 16. Some theories suggest that abilities simply do not manifest until this age, whilst others claim that youngsters are born with the mutated gene and that it simply lies dormant until it is triggered by puberty. Regardless, this is around the time that most individuals display their abilities and, if they are unfortunate enough to inherit physical disfigurations, these tend to develop at this point, too. (In the same way that no mutant is born able to conjure flames, no mutant is born with physical distinction. Everything manifests in puberty.)
From the '90s to the '00s, mutant equality seemed to be on the rise, but that fateful day in 2006 set the cause back by decades. Since then, even with the PEACE government's Equality For All campaign, the general attitude towards mutants is still one based in fear. As such, most mutants choose to keep their genetic identity a secret and live normal lives, but without proper training abilities can be difficult to control. Abilities are easily triggered by emotions and one wrong move can out a mutant in an instant. Mutants with physical mutations have even more difficulty concealing themselves and tend to go into hiding altogether.
Mutant homelessness is not as big an issue as one might expect. Most parents love their mutant children enough to know that they would never intentionally harm them. It is normal for families to go to great lengths to conceal the fact their child is a mutant, in order to save them from prejudice. Naturally, there are instances where families are less supporting and young mutants find themselves disowned. This is especially an issue for physically mutated individuals, whom most people find harder to accept.
Thus far there have been no successful experiments to replicate the mutation, and thus there are no examples of artificial mutants created through scientific means.
[Organisations of interest]
(Left-to-right: PITY, PEACE, MAP & HAM)
PITY was founded by mutant and MAP member Alan Portwood towards the end of the 80s. A government-funded venture then-known as GAME, the aim of the school was always to provide mutant youth with an education that would allow them to blend seamlessly into society; and it worked. That didn't stop the government pulling the plug on the project in 2006, when a group of students from the institute attacked the White House in a display of political protest. The building sat in neglect for the better part of a decade until 2015, when it was re-opened as PITY with a complete refurbishment; once again able to provide state-of-the-art specialist education to mutant youths.
PEACE is a political party founded towards the end of the '00s, based on the principles of equality for all. It was formed by party-leader Nathaniel Goode who, following their victory in the 2012 election, is now the President of the United States. PEACE are a well-loved government, who have not only brought about general equality but also have managed the nation's finances and global relationships far better than any party of immediate memory. Even mutant-kind appreciate their efforts; whilst PEACE may not shout from the rooftops about the work they do for mutant equality, they have made more progress than any other organisation before them.
MAP was formed in the 80s by a group of successful and wealthy mutants, some of whom were in the public eye. Its purpose was to confirm the rumours and announce to the world that mutantkind did exist, but that they were ordinary, positive members of society. MAP did wonders for mutant rights in its time, and it was them who pushed for the first passing of the Protection of Mutants through Education act. They were also heavily involved in maintaining the Governmental Academy for Mutant Education (now PITY), with headmaster Alan Portwood being among their founding members. Concerned with running the institute, MAP faded from the public eye, and following the school's closure in 2006 they made little additional impact. Regardless, MAP are still the organisation that is most frequently interviewed for matters of mutant affairs in the media.
HAM's roots can be traced back to a family in southern Texas, who upon the reveal of mutants to the world took it upon themselves to track down and execute any mutants they could find. They were considered extremists akin to the Westboro Baptist Church for some time, but following the events of September 1st 2006, the group gained a lot of traction and a lot of followers on the back of the fear felt by the public. Benefiting now from various wealthy sponsors, the group works to denounce "mutant scum" and encourages communities to hand over known mutants "For The Greater Good", their slogan. The group is considered illegal by law, and works in secrecy.
The institute is situated in a remote area of upstate New York, atop a large hill. It is surrounded by fields and woodlands on either side. On campus there is a large garden surrounded by woodland to explore. Within the woods an old dilapidated building that used to be the staff's living quarters before they were moved over the main building. There is a stream that runs through the woods to a clearing, in which a small lake with a waterfall can be found.
[The Campus]
The campus may look beautiful and be situated amongst stunning scenery, but beyond the thick woodland lies a tall, electrified perimeter fence. Signs urge students not to touch or tamper with the fence, as it is their for their safety. The campus is also guarded 24/7 by an armed security team (brandished with PEACE logos), whose duty it is to keep antagonistic forces out of the premises; and stop unruly students from wandering off-campus without a permit.
[Facilities]
The institute has a vast array of state-of-the-art facilities following its recent renovation, from luxurious living arrangements to high-tech laboratories and a specialised power training room; the facilities here would be the envy of any academic institution.
[The Rules]
• Students must not leave the campus without a permit. • Students must be in their dorms by 10pm. • Students must not bring any illegal substances onto the campus. • There is to be no underage drinking or smoking on campus. • Students must show respect to their teachers and peers. • Students must respect school property. • Students will dress appropriately when in lesson. • Students will use appropriate language when in lesson. • Theft or damage of personal belonging will warrant a police investigation. • Bullying of any kind will not be tolerated from any students.
My name is Alan Portwood. For the better part of the last thirty years, I have governed over the Portwood Institute for Talented Youths; a one-of-a-kind academy that offers free, specialised education to gifted individuals across the globe. Recently, it has come to our attention that you qualify for the opportunity to enrol with us.
Enrolling is easy: simply fill in the form overleaf (or, if you are under 18, have your parents do it) and return it to us in the envelope provided by no later than June 1st 2015. The term will begin shortly after, and all transport will be arranged and taken care of by us. We appreciate how hard it is growing up with a gift like yours, and we want to make your journey with us begin as smoothly as possible.
We will send an information pack upon receiving your application, letting you know all about the curriculum, living arrangements and facilities available here at the institute. You are fortunate in that we are re-opening this year after a complete refurbishment, offering state-of-the-art care for all of our students, regardless of their talents.
I look forward to starting this new age of education with you.
Best regards,
A. Portwood Founder & Headmaster, PITY"
[PITY Application Form]
[u][b]PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016[/b][/u]
[b]Power Name:[/b] [INDENT][/INDENT] [b]Power Description:[/b] [INDENT]Describe briefly (one sentence) what your power is.[/INDENT] [b]Abilities:[/b] [INDENT]In detail; what does your gift allow you to do?[/INDENT] [b]Drawbacks & Weaknesses:[/b] [INDENT]In detail; what are the limitations and weaknesses of your power?[/INDENT]
[b][u]About You[/u][/b]
[b]Family:[/b] [INDENT][/INDENT] [b]Personal Statement:[/b] [INDENT]In detail, tell us about yourself. What do you do for fun? What do you identify with? What defines you? What have you experienced? Let us get to know you before you start your studies.[/INDENT]
[HIDER=Sample post][/HIDER]
As you will notice, we've put a little twist on the traditional application format. You will be applying 'in character', as your character responds to his or her letter inviting them to study at PITY. As a result, the personal statement should be written in first person. Use the personal statement field to give us any little bits of information you wish; if your character is never seen without a hat, mention it.
[NOTE: Whilst you are writing in 'first person', this is also supposed to be a formal application to a school. Please keep 'characterisations' to a minimal where they are not required; answers such as "5ft" and "African-American" will suffice. Please be especially careful to go into detail in the 'powers' section, too. As a rule of thumb, the content of the sheet should be prioritised at all times over putting your characters 'stamp' on it. Your writing can be more characterised in the Personal Statement and Sample post fields.]
The purpose of this exercise is to learn the act of 'showing' and not 'telling'. If your character is a shy type, you need to show that by telling us things like their hobby, dress sense etc - rather than just writing "Character is shy" under a 'Personality' field (which you will notice is absent.)
You will also notice that you are required to submit a sample post along with your application. This should be two or three paragraphs and should give us a glimpse into the life of your character before the events of the RP. Have they suffered discrimination? Are they rich and spoilt? Remember to SHOW and not TELL. Please remember to include this within the hider at the bottom of the sheet.
We look forward to reading through your applications and hope you enjoy this fun approach to character submission.
Before I finish my character sheet I wanted to know about my power being acceptable. Namely because it would play a large role in my characters personal statement. Please feel free to PM me concerns or comments so we don't flood the OOC with just my character power conversation.
PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016
Student Name
Devin Coal
Gender
Male
Nationality
Canadian
Age
18
D.O.B.
April 6th
Appearance
Hair Color
Brown
Eye Color
Vantablack
Ethnicity
Canadian / Irish / Polish / German / French
Height
155 cm
Weight
68 kg
Powers & Abilities
Power Name
Black Eyes
Power Description
Mental and physical control over Dark Matter that collects in my eyes.
Abilities
My eyes are somehow capable of collecting dark matter in the same way a magnet attracts other metal. At least that is how the doctor explained it. It means that supposedly, with a lot of concentration, I should be able to control this matter by either combustion through the process called annihilation or solidify it. A lot of these words I don't entirely understand, but they are how the scientists talked. One thing that happened during the testing was I seemed to 'infect' a doctor with the matter when I got scared and my eyes shot some matter at him. The matter hit his eyes causing him to lose his eyesight, but it quickly returned when I calmed down.
Devin's eyes are lined with an unknown substance that collects antimatter.
This matter can be controlled by Devin mentally concentrating.
Devin can concentrate and move the dark matter from his eyes; thereby, 'curing' his blindness.
This energy can be released only from his eyes.
The energy can either become explosive or solid though if it is a solid
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
I don't really know. I am still learning what strengths I even have with this power. I guess if I don't concentrate the matter returns to my eyes and I return to being blind.
About You
Family:
Mother-Linda Coal Dad-Sean Coal Sister-Emily Coal
Personal Statement
I am special even for most of your applicants I guess. Being both special in the powers way and special in the normal way means I check plenty of boxes when I have to fill out forms like these. That said the most common questions I get asked are usually the best to get out of the way. I am big into music and my favorite sport is baseball. It has the best soundtrack. Also the large amount of numbers let me understand the game nearly as well as everyone else. Other sports like Hockey or Football are a little trickier for me.
It has only happened in a small scale, but I am scared to touch other people with my hands. The doctors said that dark matter can go through a process called annihilation which is where matter and dark matter meet causing them to both explode. Not sure if you have a special place at the school for people like me, but it would make me feel better if people didn't get scared around me.
I know I am lucky in the grand scheme of things. My disability hasn't destroyed my family, but seems to have brought us all closer together. They are excited for me, but I also know they are worried about me. They think I might mope around because they don't know what else I can do, but I am excited to learn about what my abilities can do. After all learning more about how I can control them could be the key to unlocking my ability to see. I don't dislike being blind mind you. I came to terms with it a long time ago, but if there is a chance to improve my sight I want to take it and will apply myself completely towards that goal.
The constant buzzing of Devin's alarm clock woke him with the same relentless efficiency he had come to expect for its kind. Groaning over his inability to catch up on sleep he reached over to slam a hand on the snooze button. In a flash light that exposed his clean, almost pristine, room came through his eyes as his eyes fired a short burst of dark matter. When it made contact with the alarm clock a white light exploded and the clock was blown up into several dozen pieces.
It was several moments before Devin was able to relax. He swore at himself over the broken pieces of the alarm clock could be felt around his feet. When he got up from bed he had to slide his feet across the carpet so he didn't step on any sharp pieces of plastic. Nyx, his seeing eye dog, was already up and off the bed. She had a habit of sitting next to him while he dressed for the day. His shirts were mostly organized by his mother, but for the most part a white shirt and jeans was the look Devin sported during the weekends.
After putting his shoes on Devin clicked his fingers and Nyx moved next to him. He put her harness on with little difficulty. With everything locked and loaded the two made their way towards the back door of the house. When he opened the door he could tell it was going to be a beautiful day from the warm feeling he got as he was bathed in the morning sun. The two left the house just as he heard his sister starting the shower.
As Devin walked down the sidewalk he heard all the familiar sounds of his street welcoming the morning. HE could hear Jane and her friend Michelle going about their morning jog. They said hello as the passed and Devin nodding back with a smile. The sound of doors opening as those with jobs downtown headed out early to beat the traffic.A school bus also made its way down carrying the chaos that was 30 plus kids between the ages of terror and spaz. All of these were a part of the picture Devin had for his street and he loved every one of them. Turning the next block he decided it was time to head back. The sound of a light rumble could be heard and Devin wasn't interested in racing a storm home.
Hair Color: Multiple albino labyrinth burmese pythons replace their hair
Eye Color: Dark yellow irises with slit pupils and bright yellow sclera.
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Height: 5'11
Weight: 135lb
Powers & Abilities
Power Name: Prehensile trichokinesis with healing potential
Power Description:
"Asides from the obvious physical mutation, these snakes can grow up to 20 feet in length and inject a powerful healing serum. My physiology also mimics some that of a pythons .
Abilities:
In detail; what does your gift allow you to do?
"When father got me 'probed' the shrink typed this up"
Gene is a copy cat Gorgon. Her power’s are very alike to those of the mythological serpentine beast.
Her main power is prehensile trichokinesis; Otherwise known as “hair manipulation”. The difference between most with this power and Gene, is that her ‘hair’ is composed of snakes. The venom that each snake contains is not lethal, but the polar opposite. The “venom” is an extremely powerful healing substance that can cure aliments ranging from physical wounds to tumours. Gene’s yellow pythons are incredibly resilient and are not severed easily.
Gene also manifests many of the physiological adaptations of a snake. This includes a flexibility that is parallel to professional contortionists. This is complimented by her collapsable spine and ribcage. While her eyesight is certainly lacking, her body is incredibly sensitive to vibrations and can detect movement through vibration in the air and ground.
"Thanks doctor Duebeau."
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
In detail; what are the limitations and weaknesses of your power?
"I have not done this much writing in years, forgive the fact I keep copying and pasting to save my wrists."
Gene has incredibly bad vision. Her prescription for both eyes is an average of -5.00. Due her bizarre eye physiology, she can not wear contacts and is forced to wear glasses.
The snakes can not extent past 20 feet. The do not move more than 30mph at their fastest.
Gene is cold blooded; She is incredibly sensitive to changes in temperature. If her surroundings become too cold, she either enters a sleep like state and can even die.
If an individual strikes her snakes, she feels the pain just as strongly as the snake does. They are appendages, not separate entities although they do display a level of sentient awareness.
"Thanks doctor Duebeau."
About You
Family: Edward William Simmone (Father) Rose-marie Simmone ([DECEASED]Mother) Shirley Vontutton ([EX]Step-mother) Cameron-sue Sagness-Knight ([EX]Step-mother) Edward Jr. Simmone (brother) Maximillian Simmone-Vontutton (Step/half brother) Millienum-marie Simmone-Knight (step/half Sister)
Personal Statement:
I was born in Monaco to the second richest Monégasque family next to the Grimaldi's. My father was the heir who fell hopelessly in love with my mother while he was visiting the Ukraine. My mother was definitely the one who wore the pants, or so the servants use to tell me. My father was a Lord Henry, Dorian Gray-esque sort of man. Aesthetic was everything to him and I certainly agreed with this belief. My mother was far more pragmatic, more amused by what laid underneath, rather than how pretty it’s shell was.
Clearly they got married, and eventually she did fall for all his quirks, or so I was told.
I was born as I currently am. My father being a superstitious and under educated fellow thought I was a curse and almost had all my little snakies cut off. My mother put up a huge fit, she adored my pythons. She thought they were "exotic" and played with them almost as much as she did me.
Small countries breed small minds, and apparently by the national height average here, small people as well; Monaco was one of the top funders of Human's against Mutants, with reported donations even coming from the Grimaldi's after a band of mutants tried to over throw them in 1994. So, I was a bit of a coveted secret of the family.
Sometimes I think, even if Monaco had been more mutant friendly, my dad still would have locked me up because I distorted the nuclear family of the playboy and mail order bride. I never really respected that narrow family model.
My father did lavish me with anything I wanted, and at one point even tried to spoil my babies. Least to say I would rather have bleeding haemorrhoids than ever experience my father trying to feed pythons that do not require their own substance. My mother just always laughed at him.
Comparatively, I just stared blankly at him until he bribed me with designer dolls and outfits.
My father built me my own wing of our mansion with a sealed outdoor portion. So I guess artificial outdoors was more accurate. Hey, wasn't all that bad. I could see my utter enjoyment in the two way mirror. There's nothing better than seeing the rain and never feeling it, right? I found friends closer than one would figure. My abilities were always potent and I would bemuse myself with them. My pythons became my closest friends at a really early age.
I guess because I never really had the chance to meet friends or even really need them, I became very content being on my own.
My mother was my hero growing up. I write this because I figure this trope is important in these types of high school essays. Not that I ever went to an actual high school, or school.
There was no need, my mother had a teaching degree and was my tutor up until the 2nd grade before the incident.
She taught me to embrace my differences and use them to better myself. She was invaluable for that, I do not think I would have survived with out her constant preaching of self love. “Variety was the spice of life”, and I am as rare and as luxurious as saffron.
My mother passed away in a car crash when I was seven years old. I was not allowed to attend the public funeral, instead my father held a small private ceremony in our home.
My mother’s death caused me to become incredibly depressed and angsty. Asides from all the other on-goings of my life, this was the one tragedy that actually impacted me. I could careless about the ignorance of my father and my country. I started to pick up embroidery to distract myself from the overwhelming sadness that captured me. Embroidery was a very popular hobbies in the Ukraine while my mother was a child and it made me feel closer to her, even post mortum.
I started to make quilts, pillows and things of those genre. My father would often pay me out of a sort of pity and allow me to spend my money as I pleased.
This lead to a drug problem. Cocaine was popular among my servants and I had money and spinal fluid to share. It eventually progressed to herion and all sorts of opiates. I never really cared about my own health, the amusement I felt seemed like a fair enough trade. I started buying pounds and then kilos, never fearing police since even my birth certificate wasn’t on government and police files.
I am quite hedonistic and impulsive, as my father’s euphemism would put it. I stopped when my father introduced me to a mutant who’s ability was to nullify the power’s of anothers. My pythons dropped into strands of golden hair and my face almost instantly sunk in.
I looked too much like my mother to look like such a drug addict. It summoned a storm of powerful emotions that shock the core of my being.
So, I stopped and it was a painful process but I grew from it. The extra money I had went towards expensive toiletries and expanding my wardrobe from baggy t-shirts and boxers to more extravagant things; Things my mother would of loved.
This mutant also revealed to me that my pythons contained a healing ability that kept me perpetually healthy. Which explained why I never had an overdose during my darker years.
Over this time my father married and remarried a couple times, to women I never really met. I had a couple of half siblings whom I occasionally entertained in my wing of the house.
I was never really close to any of them.
I got a physical and mental exam two years ago which revealed I had an antisocial personality disorder coupled with sever depression. Which I thought was an extreme exaggeration.
I am tired of being hidden, a bird in a golden cage is just as discontent as a bird in a wooden one. I hope to join PITY to escape my oppressive country and shameful family situation.
“Your mother would not like this sort of behaviour.” A dainty male voice scolded in French, Monaco’s native language. Gene rolled her eyes dismissively at the notion her father trying to discipline her. She began to slice through a large, alabaster crystal mound that laid on top a silver tray. Gene was brazen with her drug addiction, she did not even attempt to hide the illicit substance or its use from her estranged father. The pythons began to dance upwards, glaring at her father as subtle hisses background their aggression. “Papa, mother would hardly approve of half of your actions as well. Defiance apparently must be hereditary”, she spoke smoothly, brushing the drug into thin lines with the use of a single razor blade, held loosely between two manicured fingers. “Genevieve! Control your pets! I can not tolerate such explicit behaviour in front of the younger children.”
“They see me more as servant than a sibling…Why worry? just hand me a maid uniform and the problem is solved.” she mumbled back, venomous yellow eyes matching her father’s glare. Her pythons slowly lowered, curling around her neck in a protective scarf. “—Plus my quarters are locked and their are more drugs at their private school than in my room.” She lied, minimizing the quantity of cocaine her chamber’s held.
“Genevieve Rose-Ore Simmone! Do you think I am stupid? You’re debit card reports almost 40,000 euros withdrawn in cash in the past four weeks and you want me to believe that, that measly pile is all you have?”
“No, papa of course I do not think you are stupid.” Gene replied, stressing each word with a sense of exhaustion as she had done so many times in the past. “You spend the same amount on tips in a month, that is petty change for this family. I would almost dare to say you should be proud of how conservative I am…” She trailed off, a blanche line disappearing up her nostril as she spoke.
“You are being blatantly disrespectful and I do not appreciate this tone. You are a part of this family and should act like it!”
Gene paused, raising her eyebrow in disbelief at his over familiar statement. She was far from angry, she was more of less just impressed by the sheer stupidity of the emotional manipulation he was trying to pull. Her lips curved into a smirk, she shook her head with a subtle chuckle. The notion that he was her father in any sense but biological was hilarious in her mind. “Show me one family photo with me in it.” Gene cynically challenged him, smiling at the stumped reaction of her frustrated father.
"I can change my skin into any metal that I can touch, an manipulate it from there."
Abilities:
-Can change my skin into any metal of my choosing as long as their is an existing source of it, no matter how small or large it is.
-Once I transform, I can manipulate the the metal, I can transform my hand weapons at will, as long as I am in that form.
-I am given Enhanced Strength and Durability when using my power.
-I can partially transform, meaning I can change my arms into metal if I wish.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
-One of the biggest drawbacks for this power, is the fact that all metals are a conductor, so electricity will be once of my greatest weakness. Extreme heat and acids will also weaken me.
-I cannot transform without an existing source of metal.
About You
Family:
"So, my mothers' name is: Lue-Elan. A hard working and loving woman, and my world."
"My father's name is: Sam. A lazy food for nothing man who I despise, he is abusive to Lue at times and I have to defend her. He causes a lot of Storms."
"And may sister's name is: Unique. Yep, that her name. She is sort of like my father, lazy, she likes to spend her time with friends and never works for anything.
"Grandmama:
Weird witch woman."
Personal Statement:
"My life has not been the greatest, my father is an electrician. You would assume we would be well of, but we aren't, there is not money, are father works, but we never know we're the money goes. At an early age I had to get a job, taking out the trash for the elderly, cleaning their homes and what not. My mom worked also, as a cook at the local fast food restaurant.
My father usually had came home drunk and unable to even walk upstairs to get to bed. Mom would come home after he did, and would have to cook for him, even through he almost never ate due to the fact that he had passed out by the time it was finished. If she came home late, he would try to beat her. But I was always there to stop it from happening, but I am not always their. All though I was in high school, did not get home till 9:00 PM or later because of work. I would usually find my mother in the kitchen, bruised, with my food hot and ready. I would never say anything about it, knowing that she would never leave Sam, no matter what he did, she was to loyal for her own good. My sister usually catered to my father's good side, I never cared to find out how my father could keep enough control over himself to not hit her or me, but my mother.
My schooling life was not the greatest also, in all truth I was smart, my grades were great for a boy like me, but most of it involved lots of time studying, most of which I did not have. Despite that fact, I was regularly accused of cheating by my classmates. I would usually be proved innocent, but would never get out unscathed. I would usually be beat up, but that never meant I did not fight back.
But things started to change when I developed my powers. At first, I thought I was monster, and in truth, I was. I was protecting my mother from my father when my rage took the better of me, and I had gone to grab the aluminum bat with my skin changed into the aluminum itself, I only transformed for a few second before changing back in unwitingly. They were both horrified, they ended up both thinking that it was an hallucination, but I knew that it was not, an I will always know it was not.
"Well, umm, thanks for the time, and what not."
For once in once in his god forsaken life, the house was quiet. It was usually so loud that the police no longer bothered to come over when the neighbors reported them. Usually the TV was blasting, dad was yelling, Unique had even louder with friends over, and mom was arguing with dad. If he wasn't down stairs yelling right back at dad, then he was studying upstairs in his room. Unfortunately, that was not longer an option for him, school was over, he graduated. Unfortunately, that day was not a day for celebration, at least for Kane, it just meant he had lost another possible escape root from this home. Fortunately, in celebration of his graduation, his grandmother came over. The only person his father would never disrespect, was his own mother.
Grandmama was a weird woman, to say the least. She had money, their was no doubt about that, her husband was a successful entrepreneur. But, she had lived her life deeply entrenched in the mythical New Orleans voodoo and gris-gris. "Vivre la vie comme à l'entendent." His mother always said, it was not a common saying in the New Orleans lingo, but french was still a big part of this city. It all translated to: "Live life the way you, see fit." She could live her life, and him his, but that did not stop him from being suspicious about her ways.
"Grandma wants you." A voice said from his doorway. Kane didn't bother to look back anyway, he knew who it was, her usual contempt could be heard in her voice, Unique.
"I'll be down in a few seconds." Kane mumbled despondently, slightly angered for the interruption of his quiet.
Kane sighed as his sister sneered at him and slammed the door, causing some of his old figurines to fall to the floor. He wondered if she gained some kind of enlightenment when she did things like that. Kane left his desk, and was about reopen the door when a shiver went down his spine, he felt this anytime he was about to make a descion. He could here footsteps on the other side, suddenly, scenarios randomly started playing in his head, one was of his grandma at the door, in anger because he made her wait so long. Another was that he would find no one, and would walk down the stairs to meet his grandma on her way out the door, another was that he would simply change his mind and go back to his seat, and his grandma would walk in anyway.
He opened his bedroom door and strolled down the stairs. About half way down he meant his Grandmama, she seemed to be furious, which was a big problem.
""Boy, I called you an hour ago, were was you." she spit at him, anger etched into her features.
Kane stepped back about, trying to avoid the spit that was flung from her lips. "I wasn't told to come down till Sis told me a few minutes ago." He said quietly, he hated speaking this way, but he had to show respect to her, he did not want to become a frog.
"Mo chagren, cher" she said sadly, "I did not know, please forgive me boo." She placed her hands on his shoulder. "Boy, it's time we talked." She said carefully. He noticed his mother at the bottom of the stairs with a concerned look on her face. Kane frowned, what the hell was going on. Crap, she had told her about the incident.
I can secrete mucus sort of like a frog but less poison and more corrosion, hehehe!
Abilities:
Let's get this Big One out of the way- when it comes to life or death situations, Mucus wraps around me like a bubble and protects or heals me. Thing is, most of the time Mucus doesn't know the difference between life and death so if my heart rate goes a little too intense for its liking- i.e, getting hype at an event- if I don't think about it, I may find myself wrapped up in a Big Ball of Protective Mucus.
For the most part, I don't have a bubble and it stays dormant. Mucus can be secreted from my body, or straight up replace my body parts. In the few years I had the power, it's let me do a few things- Construct or Deteriorate.
In terms of Constructing, if I so wish it, my body can become entirely mucus. It helps when say, I get an arm clipped off, I can use the mucus to (I hate using this word) regenerate the missing limb. I can do the same for simpler things, like cuts or bruises- who knows, maybe I'll be able to iron out my wrinkles when I get older! Assuming, of course I live that long. I can do the same to other people, Constructing, though not at as big as scale. I assume though, that if I were to form my bubble and let them stay inside with me, I could heal a broken bone or two.
Moving on to Deteriorating, sometimes the mucus has about it a corrosive ability. From college ruled lined paper to car doors (which was, by the way, an accident), the mucus that I choose to spread over it can burn it off. I can do the same to myself in that I can like, let an arm go but why would I do that? And I could probably, I mean I can do the same to other people, but again, why would I do that?
The two are just a few basic ones in terms of my abilities. If I try, I can form the mucus into tentacle like coverings over my arm, and it helps flinging the mucus around. That way, instead of being up close and personal, I can use Deterioration at a distance. I'm also trying stuff out like coating things in mucus for like an added kick- example, coating a rock in corrosive mucus and throwing it so that it eats away at nearby things. Like a grenade, except less explosive. The corrosion works quickly though, and I've got a bad throwing arm, so it's more trouble than it's worth.
Given that mucus is fluid, I'm gonna chalk up my flexibility to that and not to my mom's side of the family. I can also harden the mucus if I want, but only as hard as a bouncy ball. Good for durability when it comes to falling off things, if the Bubble doesn't pop up first. For the most part hardening it doesn't do much except make it glitter all pretty like under the light.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
Overall, Focus is a big Must when it comes to using my ability.
Construct and Deteriorate look the same and feel the same, so I have to be focused otherwise I'll end up burning someone's leg off instead of healing it. That said, when my arms are in the tentacle covering, it's at a medium between C and D. I have to take care that Deteriorate is only at the ends where it's shooting out and not near my body, unless of course I want to accidentally have my arms eaten away.
There's a limit as well on what I can Construct. I can't revive the dead- there's like a half second limit on me fixing a hole in a heart, but given that the mucus has other tissues and organs to move past, no doubt I won't be making that limit in time. Same thing for other fatal shots- once you're dead, your dead. The rule goes for me, too, the mucus won't work when I'm in the dead. That's it, Game Over.
Time is very important when it comes to Deteriorate- sure, I anything the mucus touches "catches on fire" immediately (figuratively speaking), but burning through things like metals and rock takes a while, you know? Think of like pouring boiling water in the middle of a block of ice- it's hot, but takes some time for the thing to make a hole, gets mo ba?
I also have to eat a lot to keep up this sort of thing- although it's mucus, it's still sort of technically part of me. Though I know hunger takes its toll on any person, it goes twice as bad for me- control becomes shaky at best and at worst I start sweating Deteriorate everywhere. It's not a pretty sight.
The cold also totally hampers my abilities, it freezes up my mucus without me wanting it to. And it's harder than the mucus' typical limit of a bouncy ball, it gets hard to move around and even simple things like bending forward starts to hurt a lot- like having rubber bands wrap tightly around you and pinch at skin... except everywhere.
One of the greatest things about having mucus abilities is that I can heal myself the best using Construct. One of the worst is that I can hurt myself the easiest with Deteriorate. It makes sense- it corrodes anything it touches, and I'm usually the closest thing it can touch. It sucks I'm not immune to my own ability, but Construct deflects Deteriorate most of the time, so I just gotta stay focused half the time.
About You
Family:
• Alyanna Garcia Torres, Mother, 37 • Victor "Beboy" Allan Torres, Father, estranged • Maria Analynn "Lia" Torres, Sister, 20 • Anton Maria Fe Torres, Brother, estranged • Lola Betty Ramas Garcia, Grandmother, estranged
Personal Statement:
I don't suppose you're asking for a backstory are you? There's not much to tell- not for me, anyways. My mother on the other hand was a teen mom to my dad back home in the Philippines. Like good Catholics, the two got married and decided to raise the kid. Thankfully, the two had been dating before the whole pregnancy thing, so at least they'd already gotten a preview of the Married Life. I was born three years after Lia, my sister, was. The two of us became one another's best friends for the brief five years before my brother was born- she taught me how to chase chicken and how not to give money to the squatters in the city and how to climb bookshelves. After Anton was born, the duo didn't become divided, rather, it stayed a duo. Just... with different persons.
The age difference between Lia and Anton was huge, and she found herself taking care of the baby more often than playing with me. I mean, I helped take care of him, too, but I also couldn't help but find it a bit unfair that not only was my mother distracted by the new addition, but it also detracted Lia from playing with me. With my two people I normally played with, who else was I supposed to turn to, my father?
And I would've, if he wasn't so hard to talk to. He was the Discipline in the family, the one with the belt and the one with the loud voice- it was hard talking to Authoritative Power like that, especially to a kid like me. Instead, I opted for playing with the kids in the neighborhood and getting into trouble. Looking back on it, I guess if I hadn't caused so much trouble I wouldn't have gotten punished as much as I did.
Three years later, my parents decided to go to America for a few months to try and land a house and job. We spent those months with the rest of the family in my father's house, dictated by Lola Betty, a woman with a sweet name and smelled of tobacco. She didn't smoke, but her husband did when he was nervous and boy was that man always nervous. Lola Betty knew how she liked the house run and the addition of three runts meant an additional amount of chores that could get done quicker and better. Nevermind that Anton was only three, we had to wax the floors with him in our arms or back. Needless to say, I was glad to get out of that place and into America. I remember, it was February and I was eight, just about to finish fourth grade. When I arrived in New Jersey, it was snowing and cold. Like, really cold! Unbearably cold! Looking back on pictures always make me laugh because we had to layer in thick mountain gear for the simple suburbs.
My time in the American school system went pretty well- the lessons in Philippines were a bit more advanced, so I had better grasp of some things than other students did most times. I was terrible at math which was sucked because science was really cool and I couldn't grasp the maths behind it. If there was one thing I was good at though it was sports and literature- I liked reading and climbing the rope in gym. The only trouble I had sometimes was fitting in- we moved from our apartment in South Jersey to a bit farther up in Pennsylvania where we hit the jackpot of white suburbia. I was in sixth grade, so thankfully everyone was also transitioning to the middle school, but not so thankfully I didn't know how to talk to white kids. It may sound silly to you reading this, but there's a big difference when it comes to talking or eating or studying with other ethnic kids compared to white kids.
I've got the social skills of a butterfly though, and managed to awkwardly force myself into some friendships here and there. They were shallow for the most part, either with girls who prepped for gym by wrapping their hands around their thighs and complaining about how wide they were getting, or with girls who were shaped similarly to me and smoked weed with boyfriends twice their age. In this safe balance, I never worried much about my weight (I mean, I worried a little, but like who doesn't) and also jacked up my troublemaking skills by hanging with high schoolers and sneaking out of the house.
My abilities showed up when I was in eighth grade, the same time I got my period. I'd gotten it that morning and was feeling sluggish, and got smacked in the face with a volleyball. It hit so hard that I remember there being an imprint on the bridge of my nose for a week, not to mention the nosebleed I got afterward. After washing my face off and heading out, I felt much better, and it wasn't until my bad habit of pushing my glasses up did I realize that I forgot to put them on. It was like one of those book or movie revelations- everything seemed to work in slow motion as I ran to the bathroom where I'd left them. I'd always admired green eyes, and like a miracle, I got them- they weren't like the natural ones some of the white girls in school had though. It was an unnatural hue, like they'd glow in the dark- they did eventually, in pitch blackness.
Afterwards, the abilities continued rising. I broke a bone falling from a tree, but on our trip to the hospital it finished healing. It didn't worry my mom- less hospital bills, she used to say- it didn't worry her until I started... burning things. At first, it was the pillows or the bed, which I easily covered by using towels and the excuse that I was afraid of leaking on my period. She noticed though, after she caught me in a lie- I was just grabbing the car door and burned it off. Though my mom told him not to, my father called Lola Betty regarding the matter- she, a hardcore Catholic, immediately told him to leave me and my cursed body. He took Anton with him, only ten years old, afraid that I would infect him. My mom ended up taking me out of school, and I was homeschooled by my sister who changed her major from Pharmaceuticals to Science Education, just so she could know how to teach me easier.
Homeschooling was fun, I learned a lot more with the frequent field trips, both with my abilities and science (we skimped on maths because I was obviously reluctant on taking it). Lia was a big supporter on letting me explore my powers, and I was happy to have someone to share it with- even when I burned off her arm did she talked me through healing her. I was sixteen, she was nineteen, and it was the first time my big Protective Bubble appeared. The healing was terrible and shaky, and she said trying to use it was like "Having jello for a hand", but as she practiced with it, got a better handle. You can still tell I did some damage though, her tan skin sprinkled with different sized spots of pitch black.
Even though she acts okay, to me the sight of her arm reminds me of how... easily out of control it can get. And how I'm really shitty at healing. I'm a creative kid- I like reading, the arts, climbing trees and flying kites, and I always try to get creative with my powers. But it's hard when it's just me, you know? I have to cover myself with healing mucus before going to bed, which is actually just a mattress now because my mom said that it was cheaper to buy just that than a whole new bed every time I burn through one. I can't watch movies that excite me too much or else I'll get covered in a big protective ball of mucus, and frankly, I've gotten tired of climbing the same old trees. I'm ready for a real school, with teachers who sort of understand what I'm going through and not just a sister and mother who Care Very Much. It almost seems like fate that I got a letter from this school, and I hope my application is suitable enough for PITY to take me in.
Shit. Shit, shit, sh- "Shit!"
"Watch your language," chided a lighter skinned Asian, with deep black straight hair. In comparison, Jinkee's light brown curls looked like a mess- a sweaty, frizzy mess. But hair was of no importance, not now. Not when there were far more important things to be worrying about.
The younger of the two clenched her fist and fought the shock in her legs, finally running towards her sister. It was so slow, so unbearably slow, and she wished she could run faster- Lia was holding back tears. "Ate, Ate Lia," whimpered Jinkee as she knelt over her sister, shaking. Her hands hovered in the air, unsure. What should she do? What was she supposed- Fuck, why did this, Shit, Shit, Shit-
"Yanna."
Hearing her given name focused Jinkee, and though her sister's voice was shaking and small, it was still firm. That gave Jinkee a bit of hope- at least one of them here had their head on straight. "Yanna, listen to me," started Lia who interjected her sentence with a wince. Instinctively, Jinkee reached for her arm, only to reach air, and panic set in her body.
"You can heal this, Yanna."
She couldn't.
"Take a deep breath, come on. Over my arm."
Hands shaking, Jinkee reached over her sister's missing limb, trying to call up her power. It wasn't working. It wasn't working, why did she think it would work fuck- "Ate we need, a hospital- quick-" But before she could pull away to reach for her phone, Lia's working hand grabbed at her wrist. Tight.
"Yanna. You can do this. You can fix me."
Whispering, Lia added, "Just take deep breaths. Like we practiced." Jinkee could barely hear her over the buzzing in her hair, tears stinging at her eyes. Her hands held Lia's arm, and she shook with how much force she was trying to force out. And when that didn't work, she did what she hadn't done in a while-
Dear Lord if You're out there somewhere fix this fix her I promise I'll never practice this around her ever again please save her You can do anything right You work miracles aren't I a miracle help me Lord do something anything do something do something fix this fix it dear Lord I will pray every night I will use the rosary every night I will go to church every Sunday Lord I know You're out there please, please-
And when she felt a tugging, her eyes opened and found herself in a green world- looking out was like looking through green glass. Her hair floated around her, the coolness of the mucus acting with fluidity, like water. Looking down, Jinkee noticed what had been tugging at her- Lia, with her arm almost fully healed.
The shock and joy was so surprising that the bubble popped and disappeared, leaving the two of them in the grass, covered in green mucus. Looking at her sister's arm, Jinkee felt a pang of guilt stab at her stomach, the dark spots covering it a mark of her failure. She reached for Lia's arm once more, ready to bargain with God and try a second time, only for Lia to reach out for her first.
"That was awesome!" she cheered, resting her darkened hand on Jinkee's shoulder- "I've never seen that one before, that was really cool!" Jinkee couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Her sister, who practically'd almost lost an arm was there patting her wet curls and complimenting her. Meanwhile she, who hadn't done much but have a panic attack, was still having one despite the problem having mostly passed.
Feeling herself being pulled, Jinkee let herself fall against Lia's shoulder, taking a deep breath. Under all the smell of singed skin and hair, Jinkee could still smell the shampoo she used earlier that morning. Lia's hand rose to pet down at her mucus covered hair, and it was only then did the two share tears. Jinkee didn't know where the mucus end and the tears begun as they fell on her cheek, but she didn't care.
Thanks for all the sheets so far. However, I do feel the application process has been somewhat misunderstood.
Whilst you are indeed answering in 'first person', please keep in mind that your character is supposed to be applying to a school who are going to effectively be paying for them to live rent-free for the next however many years. I think the tone of the sheets is a little too casual, and whilst I love the effort some of you have gone to in order to put your character's "Stamp" on it, I feel that it is becoming a distraction.
• Answers such as height, hair colour etc should be brief and factual. i.e. "5ft." or "Brown".
• The area of most concern is the powers section. That really needs to be taken seriously in order for us to understand what each power is capable of. For example, try to write in the following style:
"My power has been described as pyrokinesis. In essence, I am able to manipulate fire and heat in all its forms. This allows me to control flames in a variety of ways, such as making them grow, increasing their heat and causing them to take on shapes. I am also able to absorb heat and withstand extremely high temperatures of up to 1000 degrees; I am practically impervious to burns. In order for my powers to work, there must be heat around. The bigger I make a flame, the more oxygen it consumes, and in closed spaces this can be problematic. I am also not immune to smoke so it is important for me to have ventilation when using my abilities."
That was just a brief example. We need as much detail as possible here, saying clearly what your character can and cannot do. So please try to avoid putting too much personality here; the chance for your characters personality to shine through should be in the Personal Statement and in the Sample Post.
I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but as several sheets in a row have had this issue I though I should speak up and nip it in the bud. I will try to reword the OP so that our request is more clear. In the meantime, if you could edit your sheets to be more factual, we would be hugely appreciative.
Shard and I will confer over all the sheets tomorrow afternoon and reply to each individual with our feedback. I am reluctant to give feedback or accept characters until the two of us have discussed them in detail.
Apologies again, please keep the sheets coming.
As for the photos, we would request real photographic faceclaims unless your character displays a physical mutation, in which case realistic artwork is permitted. (though photos still preferred).
I will post my own sheet in due course. Hopefully that will serve as a reference for people who have misunderstood the concept of the application forms.
I constantly emit some sort of field that makes people uncomfortable, making eye contact with me produces spontaneous headaches, and I constantly read the minds of those around me to find out what's hurting them. I can't help any of it.
Abilities:
I can help people with emotional problems. I can also feel physical pain, so I'm okay with healing and doctor type stuff, as long as the person is unconscious, so they don't try to get away from me. I'm also really good at being alone, you know, when I want to be.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
Nobody can look me in the eyes without severe pain, nobody ever wants to be near me, animals hate me, and I always have other people's voices in my head. This can put a damper on a social life, as you might imagine.
About You
Family:
Father: Timothy Jackson Mother: Abigail Jackson Sister: Sarah Jackson
Personal Statement:
I think I'm a pretty normal person. Or, was. I tend not to get out too much, I stay in my room a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I like to read, and that's... pretty much it for what I do, I read a lot. I'm a Catholic, and pretty religious, but don't worry, I'm not going to like, try and convert anyone. My family situation is good, but it's been sort of deteriorating since my mutation developed. My parents are... understandably weirded out by the whole thing, but my sister's been pretty understanding, all things considered. I haven't really been to school since it happened, either, the police wouldn't let me. I'm not, like, super smart or anything, but I used to do pretty well in class. I know this sounds sort of stilted, I'm sorry, I'm not great with people. It's been sort of... hard, since I got my powers, but I'm hoping this school can teach me how to control them, let me live a normal life again. Thanks for your time.
I have a few ideas for characters, I'd just like to run them by you to see which you prefer.
-A biokinetic with severe mutation-induced psychosis, wherein he is subjected to constant, disturbing hallucinations.
-A genius with the ability to manipulate electrons on an individual scale, giving him control over electronics, but lacking in the ability to use "flashy" electrokinetic abilities.
-An ionokinetic whose abilities cause so much collateral damage that he has next to no experience in actually using them.
-Similar to the third idea, but a character forced to wear a power limiter to keep their abilities in check, and greatly resents it.
I'm just posting this to get something on paper, I'll be finishing and adding to it later and post when I'm done.
PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016
Student Name:
Melek
Gender:
Male
Nationality:
American(non pacific-islander)
Age:
17
D.O.B.:
6/5/98
Appearance [Please attach a photographic image of yourself for our records]
Hair Color:
Black
Eye Color:
Brown
Ethnicity:
Jewish
Height: 6' 0" Weight:
Powers & Abilities
Power Name:
Object Dominance
Power Description:I can "animate" objects by giving them a command.
Abilities:
I can make any inanimate object do whatever I want it to. Mostly I play around and manipulate small things but I can get bigger objects to do what I want, but usually they are slower to do so. I've made pencils draw circles without me touching them, although they fell when I walked away. I don't really know much about the details of my power because I hardly use it. My mother always freaks when I do and it's too much trouble.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
From what I've played with it seems like I can only command objects I'm in direct contact with. Doing multiple objects or really complicated commands seems to slow down the objects a lot.
My idea was that they can make objects do anything that a normal person would be able to do with them. There are no special properties of any kind given to objects simply because they are affected by the power. For sake of example a torch could be commanded to light itself on fire but wouldn't be able to unless an ordinary person would be able to see or sense fire or another method of setting itself on fire and the torch is able to reach the fire. Another thing I've thought of that would fit into this example would be that if an object is split into multiple parts each part will attempt to complete the order if able. However, each part counts as a different object for the "number" of objects being controlled. This also applies regardless of the size of the pieces. Going back to the torch example, if they told the torch to float across a room, set itself on fire and then return on the return trip each flake of ash from the torch would count as a separate object. This means that as the torch returned to the character it would start to slow down, then eventually start to fall although when it hit the ground it would continue to roll (Each piece of ash is effected by the same amount of force as the entire torch is, meaning that the flakes would still be floating toward the character). Eventually there would be enough ash that the power would fade. This would also effect any other objects that were being controlled at the same time.
By this principal fluids or items that are partially fluid (such as a melting steel bar) would be unable to be controlled for any period of time (I'm also going to count clothes and other fabrics to a lesser extent in this too or else it would be far too OP to simply tell someone's clothes to crush them).
Also, inanimate objects are dumb and a stickler for definitions. If a chair is supposed to "not let anyone sit on it" then someone could still use it as a footrest or lie on it. Before there are any arguments about the interpretation of orders, I think it would be best that the reasonable interpretation (as determined by the DMs) which is least beneficial to the character with the power should be used.
The rule about contact is also strict, they are not able to simply unlock doors by touching the knob as they are not actually touching the components of the lock. They are able however to force the knob to turn and maybe break the knob or lock. Similarly turning a gun into a floating sentry would require two different orders, one to make the casing of the gun hover and point at people, another to make the trigger pull itself.
This power lacks a single definitive weakness but I think the limitations I've outlined above are reasonable and allow for a multitude of different ways to overcome "dominated" objects.
About You
Family:
Father:
Name:Idan Profession:Kentucky State Senator (Second District) Age:48 Does this family member live in the same household as you? Yes Is this family member a mutant? No
Mother:
Name:Batel Profession:Unemployed Age:46 Does this family member live in the same household as you? Yes Is this family member a mutant? No
Sibling:
Name:Irving Profession:Technosoft COO Age:29 Does this family member live in the same household as you? No Is this family member a mutant? No
Sibling:
Name:Hila Profession:Student Age:21 Does this family member live in the same household as you? No Is this family member a mutant? No
My power allows me to travel between mirrors by passing through a localised pocket dimension.
Abilities:
• Able to 'enter' mirrors and traverse a pocket dimension that connects all mirrors in the world. • Can enter/exit the dimension via any mirror big enough for my body to fit through. • Effectively allows me to teleport between any two mirrors. • Can remote-view any location with a mirror, seeing it from the mirror's perspective. • I have an acute awareness of mirrors in the area; for example, I could sense a mirror nearby without seeing it.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
• Although the transportation seems instant, it actually takes time. Time moves different in the mirror world and I have sometimes been there for twenty minutes, only to return to the normal world and find no time had passed. • Being in the mirror world is tiring and gives me intense migraines after around twenty minutes. As I physically have to walk to the mirror I wish to exit through, this limits my transportation abilities to a radius of 20 minutes walking distance (further if I run.) • Cannot teleport or view anywhere that does not have a mirror. • I don't know what would happen if a mirror I was using broke, but I doubt it would be good. • When I remote-view a location, my perspective is fixed. (As I see the room from the mirror's point of view.) • I am only able to enter/exit through mirrors big enough for my body to fit through (though I can see through any mirror.)
About You
Family:
• Thomas Crawford, estranged • Natasha Crawford, estranged • Otto "Helga Holla" Warmann, estranged • Anthony "Raja Fantaja" Bruce, estranged
Personal Statement:
I had a pretty comfortable upbringing. My father was a European businessman earning big money, and my mother stayed at home to care for me in my infancy. I did average at school, but I have never been particularly academic when it came to subjects like mathematics and science. But, I was top of the class when it came to art, English and foreign languages, so in my opinion it evened out. Everyone's good at different things, right?
Apparently not, according to my parents. My father in particular seemed most concerned with moulding me in his image. If I was to get anywhere in life, he said, I had to be more like him. I had to stop reading Renaissance poetry and start reading the Financial Times. I had to put down the paintbrush and pick up the football. It seemed that he felt the best way to accomplish this was to take me out of public education, and send me away to an all-boy's boarding school. "A real school", he would say - just like he went to.
I was thirteen, and had little say in the matter. In retrospect, I remember being quite excited. I was never popular at school. Well, that's the understatement of the century; I was loathed at school, it seemed like my every moment spent there I was the subject of some form of abuse or disapproval. I remember, in my naïveté, thinking that this school might be better. It wasn't, it was worse. There was far too much testosterone in this environment for it to be a place I was welcomed in. I'd always been a bit fey growing up, and it was at boarding school that I was first called 'gay'. Of course, I had no idea what it meant at the time, and I denied it profusely based solely on the tone it was spat in. But as the years passed, I began to realise that bullies were not always wrong.
Coming to terms with my sexuality was a relatively painful process. I knew my parents wouldn't take it well, and the more I dwelled upon it, the more isolated and alone I felt. If my father sending me here had hoped to pull me away from painting and literature, he had truly failed, because in my despair I only become more engrossed in the art world. At age 16, I was asked to leave boarding school for my 'underperformance' in maths, science and physical activity.
My father was furious. My mother was distraught. I retaliated by signing up to an art's course at the Royal College of Art in nearby London. I attended the classes, and for the first time in my life I made friends. I really felt like I belonged there, and it hurt all the more knowing I had been denied it for so many years. I met a guy, we hit it off... One thing lead to another, and I found myself with my first boyfriend. It was time to come out to my parents.
It didn't go well, and within an hour of telling them, I was hitting the streets of London with nothing but my leather jacket and a pocket full of savings. I stayed with my boyfriend for a while, but it didn't work out. I had family in Germany, so I decided I would head there. They'd heard from my dad and turned me away. So now, I was not only alone, but I was alone in a foreign country.
It turned out fine. I knew a lot of German. I got a job in a gay bar, and ended up renting a room in the owner's apartment. He and his partner were infamous drag queens in the underground art world of Berlin, and soon enough I was a part of that scene too. I made films and took photos, and we arranged screenings in the bar. The community really embraced me as their own, especially Raja and Helga, whom I was living with. They both mothered me. I was happy.
When I was 17, I began to realise I had a gift. It wasn't a particularly fantastic gift, but it was the result of a mutation none-the-less. The thought terrified me. I'd already been exiled by people I loved; I couldn't have that happen again. So I exiled myself before they had chance. Within a night I was gone, taking all my possessions with me. I never looked back. It seems stupid to me now, almost two years later. They were loving people. They would have accepted me. All I knew at the time was that I needed to get away.
So, I've been living on my own now in a different suburb of Berlin. I rarely bump into old pals from the scene, and if I do I just pretend to not know them. I'm struggling to control my powers. I'm constantly aware of all the mirrors in my apartment building, it's near impossible to think. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night, lost in the mirror realm with no idea how I got there. It takes me ages to find my way back to my room. I need to get a sense of control, and if that means I have to go back to school... Then hand me the uniform.
CHINK. The red bottlecap soared through the air and landed tinnily on the hard, sticky floor of the bar. The music was loud and decidedly campy as Mason handed the bottle of lemony-looking liquid to a young, blonde female. She thanked him and left, vanishing into the crowd of buff gay men and their entourages of liberal women. The crowd tonight was largely German - tourist season didn't properly kick off for another month or so, when the city held its annual "Internationale Filmfestspiele Berlin". The lights dimmed, interrupting his trail of thought. As the music trailed off, a spotlight illuminated the stage, and out tottered a tall, chunky lady to all the whooping and wolf whistles the inebriated crowd could muster at this late hour.
Of course, the word "lady" was used in the most metaphoric sense of the word; this lady had plastic breasts, a strong jaw and a mountain of neon green hair atop her aged but immaculately made-up face. Helga Holla, one of Berlin's finest drag queens and a regular fixture in the gay and art scenes here in the German capital. Mason grinned bemusedly as he watched his housemate work the stage and maintained it as he spotted Raja observing from the sidelines, just as she did every night; eyes wide in the admiration only a devoted lover can possess. Raja and Helga were each other's number one fans, and it was - quite frankly - adorable.
"E-excu, I mean uh... Entschuldigung?" came a male's voice, attracting Mason's attention from the glass he was absent-mindedly wiping. It was not common for customers to visit the bar whilst Helga or Raja were performing, but also not entirely unheard of. Mason chuckled at the man's poor attempt at the language, but it was always endearing when people tried to make the effort.
"Hallo," Mason began, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Was soll ich Ihnen bringen? Ein Cocktail, vielleicht? Ein Glas Wein?" He spun the words rapidly and with precision, as a spider spins her web. The young man's face was flooded with panic as he began to rummage around in his pocket for his smartphone. Mason laughed. "No need, my friend. Just joking with you." He smiled warmly at the man, who looked relieved. "What can I get you?"
The man chuckled; he was embarrassed but clearly saw the funny side, and Mason appreciated his smile as he ordered a vodka with Redbull. He was quite attractive, his light blonde curls pulled back with a traditional bandana, revealing his angular face and smooth complexion. He adjusted his glasses as Mason handed him the drink. "Are you here alone?" Mason asked. The man nodded apprehensively, taking a sip of his beverage. "May I ask why?", Mason pushed.
"I, uh... I actually just moved here. I don't have that many friend back home, you know..." the man mumbled. It wasn't hard to tell he had confidence issues, but he had a lot of accidental charm. He was endearing. "I kind of just wanted to--"
"To get a fresh start?" Mason interrupted, smiling as the man nodded once more.
"Yeah, exactly that." he replied.
Mason smiled in return. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Ben." he replied.
"Well, Ben. I know exactly what that's like. I just moved here a year and a half ago, actually." As he spoke, he scanned the crowd for people he knew. He eventually made eye contact with a friend of his, Monika. She was German but she spoke good English, and she was here with other people Mason knew. He shouted her over.
"Was geht, artfag?" she laughed, slightly drunk as she and her friends approached. Mason laughed too.
"Monika, this is Ben." he said, gesturing towards the new arrival. "He just got here from England. Doesn't really know anyone, if you get what I mean." He and Monika exchanged knowing looks, and the whole group smiled at Ben warmly.
"Do you like art, Ben?" Monika purred, wrapping her arm around the alarmed man's shoulders.
"Y-yeah, I... I love art. I just graduated from Central St. Martin's in London." he said, seeming a little overwhelmed by the warm welcome.
"Well, Ben. You're gonna love it here," he smiled, before winking platonically the man whom Monika was now draped over. "I'm Mason, by the way. That one's on the house."
My character sheet has been posted, so now you have a reference as to what we're looking for when writing your character sheets. However, I will also say that TheWizardLizard has nailed his sheet. His can be looked at for guidance, too.
I will hold off on giving critique or feedback, or accepting any characters, until I have conferred with Shard.
I have a few ideas for characters, I'd just like to run them by you to see which you prefer.
-A biokinetic with severe mutation-induced psychosis, wherein he is subjected to constant, disturbing hallucinations.
-A genius with the ability to manipulate electrons on an individual scale, giving him control over electronics, but lacking in the ability to use "flashy" electrokinetic abilities.
-An ionokinetic whose abilities cause so much collateral damage that he has next to no experience in actually using them.
-Similar to the third idea, but a character forced to wear a power limiter to keep their abilities in check, and greatly resents it.
Thoughts?
My favourite is the second idea because I can see how it would work most clearly. However, all of the ideas have potential and if you fleshed them out in a character sheet I would be able to offer more guidance. I will say that my least favourite idea is the first one. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.
Here's a power I've been thinking of using. Mind you, I'm not even sure I'll have time for this RP but since I was in a previous PITY RP long ago I feel I should keep it in mind.
How do you feel about a character being able to manipulate how perceptible he is to people? Say he could make himself completely imperceptible, where people are completely unaware of him, unable to touch see or sense him in any way. Perhaps even be unable to recall him. On the other extreme he'd be really obvious. People would just sense him even if not looking at him, they'd pay him attention over other people, his voice would drown out that of others. I'm still thinking on the limits and whether this ability also affects machines such as cameras, microphones, and and other recording/detection equipment, but what do you think?
I can change my entire physical appearance at will, even my clothes. Also, I heal pretty quickly too.
Abilities:
I've used it a lot to get out of unwanted situations before and for some more, recreational, stuff too. Once, I changed into a cop and got some bullies busted for picking on some poor kid.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
Well, I can't change how much I weigh, and an X-ray of me while I look like a guy shows that on the inside I am still female. If I am a 'guy' I am not actually a guy. I have none of that, ability, it just looks like one. Also, the appearance of warm clothes does not actually make me warm. I can look like i'm ready for an arctic expedition, but really I shouldn't even be outside in the wind.
I like to read and sing, and I've been told that I'm a good poet, although I like writing short stories better. I consider myself to be quiet, but I've been told i'm really not at all. I like to observe what's going on around me more than I'd like to be a part of it, which I guess brings me to my worries. I like to blend in, and my power helps with that, but somehow you found me, and I'm not sure how or when or even if I can trust you not to kill me the second I go to this, 'PITY' place. I'm all for a good, free education, but I don't want to walk into a trap.
My family is a part of HAM. You know, Humans Against Mutants? When I found out I was, well, a mutant, I started thinking a lot about my life so far. I never really agreed with my parent's views, and I knew that they'd turn me over in a heartbeat if they found out, so I ran away. One of the most concerning things to me right now about trusting this letter, and by extension this Institute, is how the hell did you find me? This letter and application just, appeared in my bag one day, and I have no idea how. I just got to the nearest town, but when I got this I was literally in the middle of nowhere. It took me a week to get here since then, so I guess you can figure out the rest on your own.
I'm turning in this application, because 1) If it is real, I could totally use the break; and 2) I need these questions answered. What exactly is this Institute, and will I finally get to stop running?
Erica looks up from her notepad and the strange application she was filling out, flinching at the loud crash of thunder that was way too close for comfort. She took a peek out of the small crack in the door to her tent, immediately regretting the decision when her face was pelted by the cold shards of hail mixed with the large raindrops of the storm around her. She took a towel and wiped her face off, turning on her small battery-powered radio.
The signal was bad, but from what she could make out, Erica figured that the storm wouldn't last long past sunrise, and began preparing to sleep. She packed everything up in her large, waterproof camping bag. Everything except for the letter and application to PITY, which she carefully folded and put in her pocket along with the one picture of her parents that didn't make her want to cry when she looked at it and her cell phone, which she always kept off so that she couldn't be tracked.
Finally hunkered down for the night, Erica drifted off into an uneasy sleep, only interrupted once by an extremely loud crash of thunder near dawn, and hopefully near the end of the storm. Once the storm finally was over, she cleaned up her camp and set off for the nearest town, to finally send the strange application and figure out what to do while she would wait for a response. Just before she decided to send it in, she made a few changes to the last section, adding in her worries for the future and a bit more personal information than she had originally planed to before forcing herself to actually put it in the mailbox to send.
Once it was no longer in her possession, Erica relaxed a bit, which was a mistake. She noticed in her reflection in a nearby shop window that her eyes were now two different colors, her shirt was a bit too girly of a style for a man the age that she looked, and her socks were now severely mismatched. Erica ducked into an alley as quickly as possible, changing into an easier form to hold. She was now a middle aged business woman wearing a simple blue dress, accenting the decidedly smaller curves of this form. She left the alley and went to the only hotel in town, booking a room indefinitely and locking all the doors and windows before settling in to live for a while.
With super human muscles, my strength is far beyond that of any ordinary person. While not visible upon my frame, my strength is quite fearful. Due to the fact that my body would break under the sheer pressure of my strength, my power is accompanied by enhanced durability, but only enough to prevent my power from being harmful to myself. As of now it does not effect my exterior frame further than protecting me from lighter bludgeoning.
Passive - My strength is on par with ten grown men at all times, greatly enhancing my capabilities such as power and speed.
Active - With enough adrenaline, I can infuse my muscles further and gain more strength, however it drains me drastically and leaves me incredibly fatigued once the adrenaline leaves my frame. At this level I could rip a vault door from place but it would leave me tired and useless until I manage a good rest.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
I have no defensive powers. My skin is just as vulnerable to blades and bullets as any other’s.
I have no tricks up my sleeve. My power is very straight forward and enhances my physical capabilities but it doesn’t stretch beyond that. I cannot ever lift a truck or toss a car. The latter could be possible if I activate my powers further but it would leave me fatigued and drained.
If I stay in my 'powered' mode for too long, my body will start hurting and the next day it will feel like I have been through heavy workout and I'll be incredibly sore.
About You
Family:
My mother Lin Yan is the only immediate family I grew up with. My grandfather Bo Yan was always rather close to us until he passed away a year ago. My father left soon after I was born and I haven’t heard of him since.
Personal Statement:
I’ve always been somewhat of an activist. As a child I was quickly bullied for not having a father and being asian. Some people thought I knew ‘martial arts’ and tried to fight with me, leaving me rather beat up. Funny how their stereotype would eventually come to fruition. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret anything. This isn’t a sob story. In fact, I am happy it happened to me rather than someone else who might not have been able to handle it. Either way, my treatment would eventually spark an interest in activism and human rights when I turned thirteen. I wanted to dress as colourfully as I could to attract all the ‘assholes’. At this point I had in fact dedicated most of my free time if not all of it to martial arts and put it to much use. I can’t tell you how often my mother scolded me because of my behaviour.
I wanted to take care of others and be a light in the darkness, someone poor unfortunate souls could lean on and rely on. Of course, back then I was driven by anger and a zealous intent. I hated bullies and I hated judgemental people. It was around this time that I realised that I am gay, another thing to add to the list. I fell in love with another boy named Vale, but nothing came of it. He found a girlfriend, though. I don’t know if this is relevant but I don’t have any secrets. If it’s interesting to know, there you have it.
After a while I noticed how my strength was tremendously accelerated. I had been in countless fights before, almost everyday, but never had my strength been on that level. I nearly broke a poor guy’s ribs with a punch. I was suspended from school for a while at that point, and it allowed me some time to think. With this newfound gift, I would be more fearsome than ever before. No one would want to go up against me and I didn’t need to wave it around because soon after returning to school, now sixteen years old, word had gone around. People still picked fights with me but only in groups.
I joined a gang of young mutants and noticed a boiling hatred growing within my heart towards humankind. We called ourselves The Liberated. We took care of each other, sheltered one another and more often than not ended up in gang fights with other supremacist gangs. We were childish and filled with rage. We constantly told ourselves and each other that no one understands us and that everyone is the enemy. To elevate my knowledge of what I stood against, I became politically interested and active. I always listened to the latest debates, always kept up with the news. Needless to say, this fuelled me. It fuelled all of us.
When I was eighteen years old, I was elected as the leader of The Liberated. People looked up to me both as a leader and a ‘champion’. The latter was a title they branded me with. At this point I started analysing what we were doing, what I was doing. Politicians used words as their weapons and they changed more than we ever could with violence. We were nothing but thugs, nothing but children. We were just like other gangs of nazis and racists beating other people for not believing what we do. We were wrong.
One could call it a quick change of heart but all around me I saw the people I cared about being hurt. They were constantly surrounded by negative energy and if they weren’t bruised, they had bruised others and if they weren’t angry, they were crying. Violence births violence, sadness causes sadness. This wouldn’t work, it hadn’t worked. I vowed to focus to on taking care of my friends, of everyone that needed it. ‘Punishing the wicked’ was that started this whole mess. I couldn’t keep throwing oil into that flame.
So that’s me. I am sure there is more to tell, but that will be revealed in due time. I won’t hide the fact that I am indeed a rebel, but I matured from the scared and angry kid I used to be. I am looking forward to meeting the people on this campus and see where they stand. This world needs more professional and passionate activists fighting for equality without throwing punches. I am sure there is a lot to learn here.
”What the hell is this!?” An assertive voice cracked through the fight. Two boys no older than thirteen had been beating each other to the point of bloodshed and neither were ready to stop. Stepping into the fire was a young man, asian in appearance. His bright red converse would perhaps not draw him a hoodlum, and neither would the several rainbow bracelets along his forearms. One could perhaps also point out the pink dyed streaks in his black hair.
“This piece of shit called me a freak!” One of the boys shouted, his hair a bright blonde but now dirty from the fight. He seemed rather scrawny, but so did the other boy.
In front of the blonde child stood another, a boy with dark brown hair and clenched teeth. They were both breathing heavily and stood bruised from the battle that had taken place. “That’s ‘cause you are! Both of you!” He ran forth to throw a desperate punch towards the larger, asian young man. Leo as his name was easily caught the boy’s fist and shoved him back.
“Go home.” Leo frowned at the child who understood that he was outmatched at this point. He returned the frown but spun around and ran away from the scene.
“I could have taken him…” The blonde child continued, wiping some sweat from his forehead.
“What are you doing, James?” Leo placed a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “He calls you a freak and you attack him?”
“You always told us to stand up for ourselves!” The boy crossed his arms and avoided eye contact.
“Yes, I did. I also told you not to start fights. Be thick skinned, James. Don’t be stupid. Nothing good will come from fighting people.” A large change from what Leo would have said three years prior.
“But…” James tried but couldn’t help but sigh. “It’s hard to just take it…”
“I know, James.” Leo knelt down and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “It is hard, but…” Cutting him off, Leo heard a pair of footsteps behind him and quickly spun around to meet a metal pipe heading for him. Luckily, he managed to catch it and clenched his fingers around it. “Go, James.”
“Leo!” The child cried out, watching the four young adults that had just stormed the scene.
“It’s going to be fine, just go…and don’t call for help. Just go home.” Leo didn’t move his gaze from the newly arrived attackers.
“Look here…” The one in the back spoke. “It’s the lord faggot himself.”
Leo pulled the pipe from the one who had swung it and threw it to the ground. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Oh but we want to fight you, pretty boy.” The third man drew a knife. “Think you can take all of us?”
It took a moment for Leo to respond, turning his head slightly to see James shivering in fear behind him. With a heavy sigh he finally spoke to the men. “Come…”
I have the ability to manipulate light, easy as that.
Abilities:
Due to lack of training, my abilities are a bit... Haywire, to say the least. I naturally attract light, kind of like a glow-in-the-dark sticker! Put me under a lamp for a few moments and then flick it off and you'll see me, clear as day, emitting a white-yellow light from beneath my skin. I have yet to fully understand why this happens, but let's just say I would make a perfect roommate if you need a nightlight to sleep. Light manipulation is where I have most of my knowledge. Every since puberty I've been able to generate light with slight strain. A snap of the finger can summon a spark, a waving motion can produce a beam, and all this light is for me to control!
Moving the light is easy, it flows like water if I concentrate enough, but I can also solidify it to produce shapes, projectiles, and platforms that I also control. This might be my main form of defense, as these shapes are indeed just solidified light. They can burst into a blinding flash if dropped and cause serious damage if set off too close to someone. Other then that, I can also bend the light, allowing slight visual warping and invisibility to me and those in my general vicinity. A slight movement in the peripheral, dousing a lamp's light for a moment, or even a made up shadow are easy to create if I'm concentrating enough, and I'm sure I can produce more illusions with the right amount of light present.
As for invisibility, it is easiest to do to myself then to do to others. A shield of light is key, as without it the trick is basically useless, and with a few hand motions I can bend the shield to render myself and those within invisible. We are completely gone to the naked eye, but we will still emit sounds and appear on any heat-detection devices. I am also only able to use this skill is we are stood still, movement can very easily disrupt the shield and since light isn't solid when bent, you'll walk right out into the open. Other than that, my ability allows me with few useless skills, such as producing colors from thin air and making nifty, cordless lamps for those who ask nicely.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
- The dark is my one big fear. Being extinguished, put out for ever, it is so easy to be blotted out. Darkness can overwhelm my light if I am not careful. If I am stuck in a dark room for over five hours I become unable to generate my own light, and any attempts can overexert my body.
- Over using my power can lead to painful body and head aches. Creating solid light and bending it are the two main factors of these painful contractions.
- I am not exactly in control of my powers. I have been known to glow brightly or even vanish if emotionally unstable. Don't get too close if I start getting mad, your eyes are more valuable then my feelings.
- No true offensive power. Blinding/distracting people and hiding are my main abilities. And I'm no thick-skinned strong girl either; I bruise easier than a peach.
- I'm always extremely hot, even in the dead of winter. My hands and feet burn like I have a fever, and my face is almost always flushed from the heat. I keep many paper fans around for when it gets unbearable.
About You
Family:
- Father: Julian Edwardo Rios, 47 - Mother: Kayla Smith Rios, 45 - Brother: Ross Kyle Rios, 22, estranged
Personal Statement:
Without truly realizing it, fireflies have always been a big part of my life. Okay, that might be a bit weird to start off with, but trust me it's important! Growing up in New Orleans, right on the edge of the bayou, nature was always around me. The humid summers always brought an abundance of mosquitos, spiders, and, of course, fireflies. Small, glowing orbs that skimmed the water and clung to the grass right outside my house. I would run through the waist-high turf on those cloudy nights, ignoring my mother's pleas to get out of the mud and let her check for ticks, just to see those bugs leap up and coat the star-filled sky with yellow and green. The were always brief in their arrival, but every summer since I could remember their appearance are as clear as day, stuck in my mind like an oil painting.
I suppose I was inspired by those gleaming insects. They were always... Free. Living the high life, if only for a few days. The early summer nights were theirs and theirs alone; and their beauty and grace always humbled me. My father took notice of my fascination, and took to calling me his "little firefly" ever since the appearance of my little mutation. As I grew and my powers started to develop, I took lessons from the fireflies. I let their lights stain my skin, leaving gleaming dots among my dark flesh, and watched as they generated their glowing abilities with a sense of repetition. They taught me how to conjure the gleams they produced, and showed me the many ways my body differed from that of normal humans. They were my inspiration, my reason for waking on those muggy nights and walking aimlessly through the high brush, ignorant of the other bugs that may threaten my lessons.
My family was my other main source of joy. My mother and father were the true ideal couple, they loved like no one else could. It was as if every day was the first day they met, and every night they would lay with me and discuss the beauty of the world and myself and our family as a whole. I never knew any of my grandparents, were never introduced to either side of the family, but I remember seeing letters in the mail with unfamiliar first names and my last. They were always scraped, along with the ads and magazines that the mailmen would bring from time to time. I taught myself not to question why, and simply made excuses for my folks. Everyone has their secrets, after all. Despite that, I also have (had?) an older brother, Ross. He went off to join the army when I was fourteen, and to tell the truth we never really got along. He called my fascination with stars and fireflies "weird" and "stupid", so I in turned said that his love of video games made him a "friendless loser". Those were how the big fights usually started, anyway. To say I don't miss him is a lie, though, I would kill to see his scuffy face again.
My school life leading up to PITY was rather uneventful. I was an average student in science, below average in English, and above average in math. My varying report cards never really affected me the way they should. I found school to be the less stressful part of my life, while staying in a group of friends became my number one cause of panic. I could never hold good relationships with people as I am always described as being "weirdly cheerful and unnaturally distant". I could never really wear my emotions as clearly as I wished, and my face was always smiling, so I suppose most people thought I was fake. I managed to snag a few lovers in my freshman and sophomore years of high school, but each ended awkwardly and without much fuss. My parents simply say that I am just a bit too lethargic when it came to conversation, and I guess they're right in the end.
My mutation first began to appear after my first period at the age of twelve. My mother was discussing something in my room, me lounging lazily on my bed, and after she finished speaking and rose to leave I requested she shut off my lights. The iridescent bulb flicked off in an instant, but instead of the room turning dark my skin began to visibly glow. My mother's reaction was a bit harsh, she screamed and fell back, but after a few moments she rose to ask if I hurt anywhere. Stunned by my own glow and doubly fascinated, I shook my head, and then simply asked,
"Does this happen to a lot of people?"
My parents were slightly distraught over me being a mutant, but they each got over it in their own way. The kids at school, however, either never found out or began to avoid me. Keeping my mutation a secret was easier said than done. A girlfriend I had managed to score at the age of sixteen found out one sleepless night and spread the news all around school the next day. I became somewhat of an outcast, but it didn't really bother me too much. Loneliness is a heavy burden to bear, however, and the fear of abandonment began to set in after a year of eating lunch alone in the bathroom.
Back-stories aside, I must point out that I have many interests to share. Astrology, painting, and algebra are my main favorites. The thought of tracking stars and forming colors always gets my creative juices flowing. As for math, well, I've always had a knack for equations and numbers. No use hating it, right? As for training my abilities, I've always had a bit of trouble controlling myself. Finding this school seemed like pure luck, and I'm hoping that this application may make me seem fit to attend. I need help, and hopefully PITY can spare some room to give me some.
"Phoebe Kate Rios! You open this damned door right now! Don't you mess up that sink!"
The peeling, white door rattled, brass door-knob simply refusing to turn, and Phoebe felt a grimace (or perhaps a smile) form on her lips. Her hands reached to pull the sink's handles further, the stream of steaming water soon loudly gushing from the faucet without delay. Phoebe listened as her mother grunted, whispers drowned out by intense flow of water, and after a second of silence from both parties she continued on applying bleach to her hair. Her kinky, uncontrollable, black hair. Just running her fingers though the afro mess above her head made her feel uncomfortable. She was crazing something... Unnatural. Lighter. Something that would completely ruin her hair. Bleach seemed like the best option.
"C'mon, P.K! Your hair is beautiful ya don't gotta change it!"
Her hands clenched, nose turning up at the pleading of her mother. That very attitude was what spurred her wish to change. Contrary to popular belief, Phoebe liked to do the opposite of whatever is said to her. Making her feel unable to change and be herself just seemed to strive to rebel. And so, here she was, a fifteen year old child with hair coated in a chemical that gave her headaches and hands massaging the white goo deeper into her roots. They would get over it, maybe even like it in the end, and that single thought is what gave Phoebe the force to continue. Eventually, after smoothing over some stray curls, her hair was entirely coated, and she covered the mess with a spare plastic bag before sitting cross-legged on the toilet seat. The small bathroom was now deadly quiet, save for the brewing summer storm outside and the rushing water from the small, porcelain sink, and Phoebe let her eyes wander across the green-tiled space. Each shadow, each moldy corner, each sliver of peeling paint was familiar to her, it was the family's only bathroom after all, and as the steam stained the messy mirror and the storm continued to wail against the white-painted window a feeling of uncertainty spurred in her chest.
what if it doesnt look good? what if my parents really do hate it? what if the kids at school make fun of me? what if wha
A crack of thunder caught her off guard, and a small cry of fear escaped her mouth before the lights flickered and vanished all together. If not for her glowing skin the bathroom would have been swallowed by darkness, and after a moment of catching her breath she rose, fixing the bag on her head before reach forward slightly to turn the sink off. She listened as rain slapped the window and her mother shrieked with fear and/or excitement and her father thumbed around the house loudly, probably heading out to check the breaker. Her head had begun to burn from the bleach, but the silence of the bathroom and the smell of chemicals and the life that continued all around seemed to calm her nerves, just enough for her to smile and begin to laugh at the thought of having blonde hair once more.
After twenty minutes of sitting still and glowing, she rose, sticking her head under the stained faucet and turning the hot water back on with a flick of the wrist. The bleach melted from her curls, filling the white sink with thick, white liquid, and the harsh smell of the chemicals and the steam filled her nostrils and throat, forcing Phoebe to hold her breath and simply scrub. Eventually, the bathroom flickered to life again and the bangs on the door began once more.
"Hang on, ma, I'm awlmost done..." Phoebe muttered, straightening, examining her newly-discolored hair in the smoky mirror. A smile parted her dark lips, and after a second of preparing herself she turned towards the door, unlocking and pulling the door open. Outside, her broad-shouldered mother stood, a look of disapproval clear on her face. Her dark eyes scanned the smaller body before her, up down, and then with a half-hearted sigh she held forward a towel. Phoebe took it with a smirk, throwing it over her soaking mob before tilting her head and asking,
