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CLIW Member
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STATUS: It's been like 5 years since I last logged in here, but I've finally finished college. Howdy! 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1183 (0.30 / day)
- VMs: 3
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Username history
- CLIW 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
3 yrs ago
Current
It's been like 5 years since I last logged in here, but I've finally finished college. Howdy!
12
likes
9 yrs ago
Do spambots dream of electric sheep?
12
likes
9 yrs ago
Hopal for more Opal <3
9 yrs ago
(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
2
likes
9 yrs ago
👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there
3
likes
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
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Basics
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Name: Diana Pierce
Age: 22
Birthday: September 12th, 1990
Gender: Female
Personality: Very (and sometimes possibly annoyingly) curious. Asks a ridiculous amount of pressing questions and can forget to filter her words. Can be naive and too quick to trust people; this has gotten her exploited in high school mostly by people who needed homework to copy or English help.
Notable traits:
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Appearance
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General: Generally has a disheveled look about her, with good looks hidden under all the cuts, bruises, soot, dirt and faded bloodstains. Luckily wears dark colors, making the filth less apparent, and has a scar starting under her chin and going across her throat, ending at her left collarbone. A little more well muscled since shit hit the fan.
Skin tone: Tanned and burned, kinda splotchy in places
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Pale brown
Height: 5’6
Weight: 115 lbs
Other: froot
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Miscellaneous
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Biography: Diana was born and raised on a farm to a financially-struggling family, so she isn’t a stranger to labor. Her favorite thing to do since the early days was raise chickens, in addition to beekeeping, and these were the tasks she most often opted to do without being asked. She grew up with three brothers and one sister, and despite living on a farm often felt pretty crowded as a result, but she learned to deal with it. (As one would.) She was the youngest unfortunately and often pushed around, that or coddled needlessly. In school, her grades went up and down a bit unpredictably due to stress, then skyrocketed in her second year of highschool and allowed her to secure an internship in journalism. She was fresh out of college when the infections began to spread, and incessantly wrote about it until there were no longer any means of publishing her work. She was kind of separated from her hard-working childhood self at that time, and has been “reconnecting” ever since, as well as trying to contact her siblings that went to college out of state and find out if her parents are alive.
Living relatives: Possibly her parents and one brother, who, if introduced will sound like Batman
Other:
Basics
--------------------
Name: Diana Pierce
Age: 22
Birthday: September 12th, 1990
Gender: Female
Personality: Very (and sometimes possibly annoyingly) curious. Asks a ridiculous amount of pressing questions and can forget to filter her words. Can be naive and too quick to trust people; this has gotten her exploited in high school mostly by people who needed homework to copy or English help.
Notable traits:
--------------------
Appearance
--------------------
General: Generally has a disheveled look about her, with good looks hidden under all the cuts, bruises, soot, dirt and faded bloodstains. Luckily wears dark colors, making the filth less apparent, and has a scar starting under her chin and going across her throat, ending at her left collarbone. A little more well muscled since shit hit the fan.
Skin tone: Tanned and burned, kinda splotchy in places
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Pale brown
Height: 5’6
Weight: 115 lbs
Other: froot
---------------------
Miscellaneous
---------------------
Biography: Diana was born and raised on a farm to a financially-struggling family, so she isn’t a stranger to labor. Her favorite thing to do since the early days was raise chickens, in addition to beekeeping, and these were the tasks she most often opted to do without being asked. She grew up with three brothers and one sister, and despite living on a farm often felt pretty crowded as a result, but she learned to deal with it. (As one would.) She was the youngest unfortunately and often pushed around, that or coddled needlessly. In school, her grades went up and down a bit unpredictably due to stress, then skyrocketed in her second year of highschool and allowed her to secure an internship in journalism. She was fresh out of college when the infections began to spread, and incessantly wrote about it until there were no longer any means of publishing her work. She was kind of separated from her hard-working childhood self at that time, and has been “reconnecting” ever since, as well as trying to contact her siblings that went to college out of state and find out if her parents are alive.
Living relatives: Possibly her parents and one brother, who, if introduced will sound like Batman
Other:
Good idea
Unfortunately I just really really suck at GMing.
Should one of us make a new thread or something?
Adopting it sounds like a good idea to me! I worked hard on that character sheet, damn it!
So was I. :c
@Dirty Dan hello?
Hii. I was going to wait for Mysaren, but I might add another IC post.
It took only seconds for the scene to go from that of a calm park suburb to utter chaos. Bridget, huddled on a park bench and looking shiftily around while she tossed stale bread crumbs to birds, had been startled a little by the very sudden egress of the avians she'd been feeding. They'd all just flapped away, some screeching and some doing that weird throaty chirp that birds will do sometimes. It made her heart beat thirty times faster; she turned her head quickly this way and that in case anyone associated with a very certain corporation had come to collect her. None that she could tell, just people pushing strollers and walking their dogs.
And then the sirens started to wail.
Bridget looked toward the river, and a couple miles downstream, the nuclear power-plant that stood right next to it. Oh no. Oh, please, no.
To just about any passerby who was now fleeing as their smartphones and companions passed on warnings to flee from the police, it looked as if she'd fainted. What she was really doing was projecting: it was easier to investigate the power facility when she could phase through objects, was invisible, and wasn't tethered by the laws of physics. Unfortunately, she also couldn't feel differences in air temperature, and it took her a little while to find a thermometer. Alarm bells went off: it was steadily rising. Something or someone was aiming to cause a meltdown. Workers were evacuating. A few of the more senior staff were trying their best to shut down the reactors but to no avail.
No no no.
When Bridget woke in her body, she was on a stretcher headed toward an ambulance. She rolled off of it and ran, leaving one paramedic asking her to "please come back" and the other grumbling angrily and muttering something about stupid college-age fucks wasting their time. She got in her car and sped home, driving in a way that would get her a million dollars worth of tickets if the police weren't currently so occupied with a possible repeat of Chernobyl.
It was time to become Renegade.
And then the sirens started to wail.
Bridget looked toward the river, and a couple miles downstream, the nuclear power-plant that stood right next to it. Oh no. Oh, please, no.
To just about any passerby who was now fleeing as their smartphones and companions passed on warnings to flee from the police, it looked as if she'd fainted. What she was really doing was projecting: it was easier to investigate the power facility when she could phase through objects, was invisible, and wasn't tethered by the laws of physics. Unfortunately, she also couldn't feel differences in air temperature, and it took her a little while to find a thermometer. Alarm bells went off: it was steadily rising. Something or someone was aiming to cause a meltdown. Workers were evacuating. A few of the more senior staff were trying their best to shut down the reactors but to no avail.
No no no.
When Bridget woke in her body, she was on a stretcher headed toward an ambulance. She rolled off of it and ran, leaving one paramedic asking her to "please come back" and the other grumbling angrily and muttering something about stupid college-age fucks wasting their time. She got in her car and sped home, driving in a way that would get her a million dollars worth of tickets if the police weren't currently so occupied with a possible repeat of Chernobyl.
It was time to become Renegade.
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