Current
Harambant, who once went by Harambe, now only recalled in light of what followed.
1 yr ago
RAIN OF SPIDERS (SPIDERS spiders)
4
likes
3 yrs ago
It seems today, that all you see,
3 yrs ago
Holy Spirit Activate
1
like
3 yrs ago
Remember the indigenous people of the Americas today.
5
likes
Bio
Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.” ~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.” ~BCLEGENDS
Less dedication. Weakness. Downtime could be limited. Inability to control her troops. Unacceptable weakness. Case in point: she did not properly punish the soldier who knocked into her.
415633-983223-17-Zhatka would be sharing a regiment with such weakness. Part of the command squad. He would not be fighting alongside his fellows in the foreseeable future.
How infuriating.
'...yes, Sir.' Hesitation. Weakness. The officer gave an order. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka saluted again, then began walking away as dismissed, only to stop as he realised he was being observed. He turned his head to stare back at the soldier, his mask shifting above his collar. Small. Weak. Inappropriate facial expression. Poorly fitted armour. Should not have been inducted into her regiment. Should not have been inducted into this regiment.
'Practice your drills, soldier,' he insisted, before she made her effort to leave. Given the other soldier wanted the officer's attention, and as 415633-983223-17-Zhatka had been dismissed already, he proceeded to take his own leave, returning to his quarters promptly. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka would have issues practicing with such noise in the area. In which case, he would make do with a somewhat simpler drill. He drew his bayonet, and began.
Appearance: MP-1834-JC is a Hispanic male, measuring 169 cm and weighing 76 kg as of [VOID]. MP-1834-JC has curled brown hair down to his temples, brown eyes, and above-average musculature for his age. A red heart shape wrapped in green thorned vines is tattooed on his left upper arm, the vines specifically obscuring the heart across its horizontal center line. A knife is tattooed on to his right forearm, drawn to suggest it is piercing the flesh, complete with blood spilling on to and around the blade. The Spanish text "Bomba de Gasolina" (translating to English as "Petrol Pump" or "Gasoline Pump") is tattooed in Impact font on his abdomen in two separate lines; two black arrows point from either side of the word "Gasolina" toward his genitalia.
Background: MP-1834-JC was born on the 8th of December, [VOID] in Ibiza Town on the Spanish island of Ibiza. At age 1, his family moved to the United Kingdom, taking residence in central London for work-related reasons. MP-1834-JC received average education and accommodation throughout his early life, but is noted to have been involved in gang activity as young as fifteen, and did not pursue education beyond A-levels, instead becoming further involved with the Hispanic gang [VOID] (see Acquisition).
Anomalous Containment Staff were made aware of MP-1834-JC on [VOID] due to inter-gang violence against [VOID] (see Acquisition). He was apprehended shortly thereafter, putting up relatively little resistance due to [VOID], and initially contained as a Blue security threat, but was reassessed as a Purple security threat after [VOID] (see Addendum 1). Aggression against staff has notably increased since then, and MP-1834-JC refuses to clarify when he first became aware of his anomalous properties.
Powers: Auto-Liquefaction || MP-1834-JC is able to discorporate his body into an increasingly liquidous mass, described by the subject as a sensation of "melting". MP-1834-JC can fully discorporate into a flexible gel-like state over the course of forty five seconds, and into a water-like state over the course of ninety seconds, with selective control over which portions of his body discorporate first if desired; he experiences no apparent pain or harm from this process, and can reverse the discorporation at will, reverting to his standard appearance over the same timeframes as described above. MP-1834-JC loses muscular control as liquefaction increases, being notably impaired whilst partially molten and unable to move when fully liquefied, but retains sensory input and becomes increasingly able to alter his form regardless of bodily structure at greater levels of discorporation; greater discorporation also results in greater resilience to kinetic force, and small physical injuries can be erased through a process of partial dissolution and reformation, though severe injuries such as extensive burns and substantial head or neck trauma remain potentially life-threatening.
Privileges:
Dresser, inside face oriented toward camera
Pull-up bar, cemented into wall next to dresser
SECURITY NOTE: MP-1834-JC is noteworthy for being highly non-cooperative with staff as of [VOID], frequently refusing to participate in testing except under duress, and often citing his desire to escape Facility B. MP-1834-JC is not unsocial with fellow subjects, but is prone to sudden bursts of aggression with little apparent provocation, though he is aware that he lacks the ability to significantly harm any staff members without himself risking injury. Consequently, MP-1834-JC's privileges are highly restricted, and should be thoroughly examined for potential escape risks before being allowed.
@CleanBreeze Nah, that'll probably work. Zhatka will strongly dislike everybody who isn't as disciplined as him anyway, so it's probably easy to see him as a rival figure.
Near the end of the ration pack, 415633-983223-17-Zhatka found it increasingly difficult to continue eating, as the soldiers in the area made an increasing ruckus. Unprofessional. He'd wanted to eat silently. Even seated in a distant hab unit, the celebrations drilled into his ears like chainswords. They had been offered an official celebration already. They did not need to celebrate further. They did not need to celebrate at all.
He persisted, and eventually consumed the full ration pack, dessert pill included. The waste was discarded, the mask was replaced. He had intended to practice bayonet drills. He could not do so under such circumstances. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka proceeded out toward the front of the headquarters, where the noise was clearly originating. He strongly detested it. He had it in mind to try and put a stop to it, in fact. Though, given how weak the Guardsmen of other regiments were, it was possible they wouldn't. Inability to follow orders. Insubordinate.
If only that were so. The officers were likely as weak as the front line. No such weakness would be allowed in the Death Korps. No others of the 382nd Siege Regiment of Krieg were present. This was a blessing. Not tempted by such weakness. And yet, it showed their own inability to demand the proper routine of others. Surely they found it bothersome too?
The question did not need asking. Only results needed to be obtained. Shortly, he encountered a Commissar, speaking with another soldier. Physically strong. Poor posture. Surely being berated for the latter. Salvaging of carapace armour peformed. Unacceptable. Theft of materiel. Loose caparace armour ought to be returned to higher authorities. Why had he not been shot? He began to approach, then recognised that he had been misled by the female soldier's uniform - this was a member of the Mordian Iron Guard. But, he further recognised as he moved around them, an officer in turn. High-ranking. Perfect. She, too, must be on her way to put a stop to matters. Adopting a proper ready stance, he waited until he was given permission to speak, then stated his case with a firm salute, citing his identification rapidly to ensure time was not wasted on pleasantries:
'Sir, Grenadier 415633-983223-17-Zhatka 382nd Siege Regiment of Krieg, Sir. The celebratory proceedings outside are excessive. They are unnecessary. They are interfering with proper combat drills. Requesting they be brought to an end, Sir.'
That should be convincing. Though she would not need convincing to start with, if she were as disciplined as he hoped.
335729-44456-103-Egida died in the fighting on Vernum Primus. Her bayonet and body alike were cleaved in twain by the choppa in the Ork's hand. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka could not respond. His fight remained before him - another alien, another enemy of the Imperium, who he stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. The Ork that killed 335729-44456-103-Egida was itself slain just before 415633-983223-17-Zhatka killed his own. How fitting.
And the fight continued.
415633-983223-17-Zhatka stood to full attention. His regiment was depleted - few soldiers remained, of the Grenadiers only himself and one other. He did not mourn them. Those soldiers had died fittingly: sacrificing their lives for the Imperium, to help cleanse the stain of Krieg's failure just a little more, before their equipment was collected for redistribution later. They were brave - as brave as all Guardsmen ought to be.
To be forced to stand in line and accept trinkets marking his bravery, attached to his carapace armour where they would fit, was therefore galling. This was entirely a waste of time. Inefficient, unnecessary, save that other Imperial Guardsmen were lesser in their bravery, and saw such acts as somehow exceptional. They should not be. If they weren't, the Imperium would never have trouble defeating its foes. Triple Skull, to indicate large losses within a regiment. This wasn't needed. Other medals, indicating other achievements. Unnecessary. He would discard it all later.
At least they were not chastised by being made to live on this world, like other, lesser regiments. That would be a deathly insult. The General-Militant seemed the type to insult them that way, pathetically, spinelessly conciliatory as he was, but he had the sense not to. Instead, they would be redirected to the headquarters for the Departmento Munitorum - to fight again, and hopefully to die in a way that was suitable. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka doubted this battle would lead to a promotion to Watchmaster. He rather doubted he'd want it to.
As soon as it was plausible to assume they weren't being monitored, 415633-983223-17-Zhatka removed the medals planted on his chest with great haste, placing them in the lowest recesses of his equipment pack with the intent of forgetting they existed. At least none had been pinned through his breastcoat; that would have rendered it functionally unusable. It was designed to seal out chemical weapons. It could not do so with holes puncturing its surface. At best, it would have required a renewed course of treatment as a result - difficult, when no suitable facilities to perform such treatments presented themselves. Under normal circumstances, it would be irrelevant.
These were not normal circumstances.
415633-983223-17-Zhatka's thoughts returned to 335729-44456-103-Egida as he acquired a ration pack to consume. Other Guardsmen did not come to him. This was fine. He'd likely have shared his ration pack with her if she were still alive. She would have shared hers in kind. She always enjoyed the chocolate dessert pills. He, however, found the plastic somewhat stuck to his- his train of thought cut off as he realised where it was leading. No. That was the wrong way of thinking. She died heroically. That was enough.
He ate his ration pack silently, pondering the beneficience of the God-Emperor, that He gave Krieg the opportunity to alleviate their sins by dying in his name at all. Truly, any being less divine would have insisted upon their destruction outright. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka could only hope the next battle he was sent to would offer more opportunities for atonement.
Age: 13 Nationality: America, Land of the Free! Specifically, the city of New York in the state of New York. Rank: 44
Appearance: One could imagine Mark would be a fairly normal guy, if not for his Quirk. One could imagine he'd be fairly light-skinned, and one can tell regardless that he has brown hair on his head, kept short enough to stay out of his eyes, and a fairly decent figure about five feet in height with, if one were to witness them, particularly well-built back muscles for his age. However, if one were not aware of who he was, the first idea of what he might look like would come from his regular shirts, which not only have an extra pair of sleeves underneath the usuals, but two large slits up the back, as if to allow for wings to pass through... and perhaps something else beneath those. Costume: Things only get stranger as one witnesses his costume. Black jeans are simple enough a covering for his lower half, but the upper half could easily be mistaken for part of a knight's plate armour, albeit crafted from titanium and a padded leather lining with a peculiar metallic blue coat of paint over top, alongside further reinforcement of all six limbs - six, as that is the only explanation for the extra arm sleeves and gauntlets. The same slits from before are also present on the back of the breastplate, but part of it is composed of two solid metallic orb-like structures, complete with holes letting air in, as if to allow two small-ish objects to nestle inside with room to freely move about. Most strange is the two-piece helm - the upper half of which seems to be comprised mostly of black-tinted bullet-resistant plastic, solid enough to deflect quite firm strikes, yet covering the majority of the wearer's head with room to spare, especially over the face; and the lower half a facemask of the same metallic blue-coated titanium covering mouth and nose both, strapping on round the back of the wearer's head, but allowing room for... a large metal spike? Hollow, but clearly very sharp... what the hell does the person wearing this need that for?!
Type: Mutant Effect: Mark's Quirk causes him to look very much like a fly - a large pair of transparent insectile wings and a pair of orb-like halteres have sprouted from his back around his shoulder blades; a second pair of arms has erupted from just beneath his armpits; his eyes have transformed into large compound lenses, red with an oil-slick sheen, taking up much of his upper face; most of his body is coated in stiff black hairs, wings and all, with a metallic blue sheen to his skin; and a sturdy proboscis protrudes from between his nose and upper lip, evidently intended to pierce into things.
The primary drawback of this quirk, evidently, is social, given that the vast majority of people will be utterly repulsed by such a visage, made worse by the long-term mental effects of such rejection. The quirk itself, however, is fairly substantial: there is an obvious benefit to wings in the form of flight, something Mark has practiced for a long time to actually achieve the physical strength needed, but this is massively enhanced by his halteres, which essentially act as miniature gyroscopes to pinpoint his position in space relative to other nearby objects, particularly in the horizontal plane, giving him pinpoint accuracy. Further flight effectiveness is achieved by the nature of his eyes giving him a very wide field of view, and the fact that his brain essentially processes the world in slow motion, letting him perceive events that normal people would not react to in time. The potential to detect both infra-red radiation and carbon dioxide emissions is also present in him, though he has yet to discover these properties.
Beyond flight-assisting benefits, his skin is actually somewhat chitinous whilst remaining flexible, and sturdier than one might give it credit for at a glance. Extra arms, evidently, are useful for greater ability to grab or indeed punch things, and can incidentally let him taste objects by placing his hands on them; a power not yet discovered is the capacity to cling to most surfaces by his hands, though he has experienced hints of this through occasional "sweaty hand" mishaps. Lastly, his proboscis is sharp and solid enough to impale flesh, and can both spew out a greenish enzyme-laden acid that is highly effective at breaking down and dissolving proteins, and suck up fluids such as blood and dissolved biomass for sustenance.
Whilst all of these add up to a very substantial powerset, it stands to reason that such extreme physical changes merit obvious weak points. His wings and eyes are large targets, and can be damaged quite easily if a hit lands on them, requiring a fair bit of time to recover from harm; much less obviously, his halteres are extremely sensitive organs, and in fact necessary for him to fly at all: a solid hit to them is debilitating in the same fashion as a kick to the testicles, and if they are destroyed or removed outright, Mark will become utterly unable to fly. Thankfully, he's quite a difficult target to hit and can weather harm to the rest of his body to some extent, further assisted by his costume, but contrariwise, he is in fact very lacking offensively, with just an extra pair of arms and a stabby implement that can spit up acid to his name, and the acid is at present entirely ineffective against non-biological material - a major factor in his initial low rank, evidently. Finally, whilst perhaps a minor issue by comparison, he requires a fair bit of energy to fly properly, usually supplementing a standard diet with plenty of sugar and starch.
Personality: Mark's early life has not been generally easy, and consequently, he developed into a very aggressive person to protect himself. This has not generally helped him to make friends, unsubtle as he is, and in fact it has led to a great deal of problems actually integrating into society over time, to the point of requiring specialised support as a child to acclimate and be somewhat more social in general. He is still prone to sullenness and grudge-holding alike, and might bite your head off with a long rant about how much you suck if you intentionally upset him, but he's at least not likely to hit you with an insult just because you made a comment about his eyes.
That being said, underneath this outer layer of anger is a heavy dose of legitimate loneliness. He knows full-well how his appearance factors in to his social interactions, which contributes greatly to a decent lack of confidence on his part; more specifically, he struggles to let people in even when he isn't taking out his frustration on them, and has had few acquaintances and even fewer friends in his thirteen years of life. Consequently, his hobbies tend to be solo in nature - reading both fiction and non-fiction, computer games, flying practice, and the occasional piece of short fiction, albeit with the level of writing quality one might expect of a thirteen-year-old - but this need to be legitimised has also helped fuel a degree of geniality to those who haven't upset him, and indeed a tendency to help those in need at the drop of a hat. Unusually, he's also gained a degree of knowledge about forging techniques, thanks to circumstances that arose just prior to his acceptance into New Heights.
History: As already stated, Mark's early life has not been generally easy. His father's Quirk, a benign little transformation number he called Bluebottle, mixed with his mother's needle-producing Quirk to produce a setup that seemed only marginally different from the former, save that Mark himself was born looking like a fly, instead of simply transforming into one. The change from Transformation to Mutant rather set the course of Mark's life to be highly negative: despite his best efforts, quite significant smarts, and a name evocative of one of the most well-known public figures in history, he was often bullied in elementary school, with few people willing to talk to him much, and only two other Mutants he could even call friends - and even with them, his behaviour and reputation steadily degraded until they split away for their own sakes when he was about eight.
It was also around this time he first suspected and, with all the gumption of an angry fly child, voiced his concerns that even his parents didn't really love him or even like him. Evidently, loving as they actually were, this was conclusive evidence to them that he needed some form of long-term support, and shortly after, he began seeing a counsellor with quite a positive track record. Between education and therapy sessions, as well as a brief period of time Mark spent on adderall that ended when his parents insisted it was ill-advised, Mark also attended a number of regularly-scheduled groups designed for those living in unfortunate circumstances - say, being part of an impoverished family, or looking like a fly person. Despite everything, these groups did actually help him somewhat, and whilst he never exactly made friends with anybody in them, he could at least talk to them every week or so.
It was one of those children that sparked something resembling interest in hero work - they, naturally, were convinced they'd become a hero, and went on at length about how they'd use their power and how they'd train it every day to get the spot they wanted. Something about that appealed greatly to him - maybe he'd even be liked by people, if he saved them! After getting his therapist's approval, and his parent's encouragement, he began to practice using his powers on a regular basis - part of which was figuring out what flies could do to begin with, before practicing to make proper use of them, including time spent on karate as a martial art, which he excelled in with his enhanced and increasingly-potent precision and slowed temporal perception allowing him to mimic stances and target weak points with ease. In particular, three years were spent furiously flapping his wings on a regular basis, seeming to make little to no progress beyond hovering, only to suddenly take off several feet one morning before school, as it transpired his wing muscles had grown exceptionally strong in the process of all that practice. This power was promptly used to show off in front of one of his bullies, and then to kick said bully in the face for years of humiliation. He maintains to this day that the detention was entirely worth it, even as he recognises the "cool factor" didn't make him any further friends.
Nonetheless, as he grew closer to the typical acceptance age for hero training schools, his father used his connections in construction to get Mark working alongside a local craftsman, helping to forge himself an outfit to enter into heroics with: lightweight, yet tough enough to protect him, and especially to ensure his most important body parts were shielded without being hindered to the greatest possible extent. Both parents also worked with him to start putting applications into as many hero schools as they could, and it was, perhaps, a great deal of good luck that one of those which confirmed his acceptance was within the United States, specifically Hawaii - sun, sand, high-quality education, exclusivity, and he didn't even need a Visa to head there. It pretty much settled the matter: once his last year of standard schooling was over, he headed to New Heights Academy.
Exam Report: Given Markus' flight capacity, and his clear preparation for the exam and future education, it was expected that he would achieve quite positive results. Indeed, his ribbon collecting seemed to go well initially, and he readily evaded most attacks from those robots which targeted him, displaying his Quirk's abilities very efficiently.
However, it became abundantly clear after attempting to help a fellow student in a difficult fight that he was entirely unprepared to fight artificial foes - his fists dealt minimal damage despite targeting weak points, his mouthparts could barely scratch the surface of any metal surfaces he attempted to puncture regardless of its extra reinforcement, and he seemed to shy away from most such fights as a result, panicking when forced into them. Even when he succeeded in puncturing the joints of the one robot he managed to defeat, the acidic substance later found in its systems had hardly corroded the materials at all despite clear danger to biological matter; the machine's disabling was largely due to a combination of physical tearing and short circuiting. Furthermore, he was unfortunate enough to be targeted by Hiroki Sakimoto partway through the exam, being disoriented and grounded by the fellow trainee's Quirk, and losing most of the ribbons he had collected up to that point, leading to reduced performance for the remainder of the exam due to apparent frustration.
It is hardly fair to suggest that Markus is incompetent, nor that he would not be capable of succeeding as a professional hero. Certainly, the theft of so many ribbons so late into the exam could be called "sheer bad luck", given the presence of a Quirk that almost directly countered his own. However, the rules of the examination are clear: preparation to defeat any foe is key, maintaining the right mindset is equally important, and luck must always be a factor considered in a real scenario, though points are given for helping another student without question. Regardless of his starting rank, Markus will have plenty of opportunities to prove himself more effectively throughout the remainder of his education, and we expect that he will rise to match his potential accordingly.
@BCTheEntity It does look good so far! One note, though, Mutations aren't really seen as weird or disgusting in MHA (at least, as far as we know), so unless Mark was surrounded only by really mean people, I doubt he'd be put down for his Quirk so much.
Duly noted. My logic there was two-fold: first, kids are cruel, and I feel most would almost certainly avoid the "weirdo fly boy" on the playground unless they were Mutants in a similar-ish vein. Second, whether or not they're actively seen as disturbing, it's my understanding that Mutant-type Quirks are not generally held in as high an esteem as Emitters or Transformers, in kind of the same way as a lot of cultural and racial demographics IRL - that is to say, they're legally protected, but are not socially accepted by all and sundry, which could in turn have been taken as part of the reason Mark's score was kept at a level that'd leave him in the Bottom Ten, i.e. Mutaphobic judge.
Alright, just have the Personality and History to fill in for Mark at this stage. These will have to come tomorrow, but I have high hopes that he'll be taken as a pretty good character thus far.
Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/173815-static-tabs-do-not-take-up-internet-bctheentitys-character-links/ooc]A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.[/url]
[center][u]Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist[/u][/center]
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)<br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/173815-static-tabs-do-not-take-up-internet-bctheentitys-character-links/ooc">A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.</a><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-u">Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist</span></div><br>“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”<br>~vikaTae<br><br>“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”<br>~BCLEGENDS</div>
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