He looks to a holodisplay that pops up and nods, opening a panel on his forearm and looking at a display output on that as well. He frowns.
"Tachyphone is fried. Damn."
"Tachyphone is fried. Damn."
Lasersquid112
Member
el potat
STATUS: @Gunther Since when was I fueled by dreams without a goal? 5 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 6 yrs ago
- Posts: 177 (0.08 / day)
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Username history
- Lasersquid112 6 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
Current
@Gunther Since when was I fueled by dreams without a goal?
5 yrs ago
@LadyAnnaLee I won't hope to understand what you're going through right now, so I can only say this: No storm lasts forever. Take care of yourself, and it'll be alright, in the end.
1
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5 yrs ago
Understandable. Have a good day, nonetheless!
5 yrs ago
@Ruby Do you, too, require emotional assistance?
5 yrs ago
@LadyAnnaLee Or so you thought. *Long-distance hug.*
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Bio
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Most Recent Posts
Name: Patrick Harding
Race: Human
Appearance: Patrick Harding is a ~6'0" Caucasian male, with long platinum blond hair. Long. It reaches to a few inches above the small of his back. He generally keeps it back in a tight ponytail. When he's feeling lazy, he generally takes it down, although he almost always puts it back up a few minutes later out of annoyance. He's lightly scarred, especially on his hands and forearms, though he generally doesn't speak of why. He stays well-shaven whenever he's able to, keeping his face clean of stubble and stray hairs, as well as his arms, torso, and legs. He has a scar he often looks at, on his dominant left hand, in the shape of a lowercase 'i', a scar strip forming the stem and a small dot of the tissue forming the dot of the letter. God knows how the man hasn't sustained horrifying nervous damage.
Age: 36 Terran years.
History: Patrick Harding was born on one of the hive worlds of the Collective, forced into the cruel reality of the Hive - if you made someone upset, you got shot. His parents and friends made that mistake often, and didn't always survive. To escape that terror, he fled to the safety of the art of technology. He created small gadgets here and there, but they saved him on numerous occasions. Several times his technology took a bullet or a knife that should have taken his life. He rose from the bottom, though, refusing to succumb to the violence wholly. He became known to noncorrupt planetary law enforcement agencies, who took him in and protected him, in return for some of his technology. An upgraded suit of armour here, or a shock-maul with increased voltage - over time, he massively upgraded the police force's capabilities. The hive remained a terrible place, obviously, but order was forged out of that chaos. He eventually caught wind of the Wind Riders, an incredible organization, and eventually came to regard them as a sort of light in the darkness of the world he lived in. He trained, studied, built, and repeated for a considerable amount of time, then attempted to join the organization. He was rejected. He took it less as an order to go away, and more as an order to try again. He tried again the next time the opportunity rolled around, and succeeded.
Personality: Patrick is a bit of an agnostic, not one to deny or follow a certain religious belief or anything similar. He's generally easy-going and cracks jokes, though he's very capable of putting that joking side away and becoming as serious as death. He tries to be easy to get along with, though most of the time he ends up making a fool of himself. Regardless of his playing around, though, he follows the law to the letter and refuses to break it, going some lengths to convince others to follow it as well. He will not, however, physically restrain someone unless he strongly believes that measures should be taken to prevent them from carrying out whatever action they wish to go through with.
Core Belief: Patrick believes that, despite life's violent nature, it's something that should generally be cherished and not erased. Of course, that doesn't stop him from killing if he decides it's necessary in that situation.
Equipment:
Patrick has a large suit of power armor, as well as a high-powered Gauss assault rifle to go with it - think SC2 Marines. He also carries basic hygiene products such as a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, and an advanced medical kit. He also carries ammunition for his rifle and a small supply of explosive weaponry, specifically fragmentation and incendiary grenades.
Ship:
Patrick's ship is something of an anomalous thing, barely being able to be called a ship. It's a small ship with a five-man crew quarter, with twin turbolaser turrets on the sides, as well as maneuvering thrusters. It has main thrusters, but they are not as powerful as one would expect. Additionally, it amplifies his magic so it can be used on a far larger scale, light-year-long distances traversed in mere moments.
Magic:
Patrick only has one power, but it is still quite amazing. He has the ability to expand and contract spacetime around him - his main application of this is apparent lightspeed travel, though it also has other uses.
Race: Human
Appearance: Patrick Harding is a ~6'0" Caucasian male, with long platinum blond hair. Long. It reaches to a few inches above the small of his back. He generally keeps it back in a tight ponytail. When he's feeling lazy, he generally takes it down, although he almost always puts it back up a few minutes later out of annoyance. He's lightly scarred, especially on his hands and forearms, though he generally doesn't speak of why. He stays well-shaven whenever he's able to, keeping his face clean of stubble and stray hairs, as well as his arms, torso, and legs. He has a scar he often looks at, on his dominant left hand, in the shape of a lowercase 'i', a scar strip forming the stem and a small dot of the tissue forming the dot of the letter. God knows how the man hasn't sustained horrifying nervous damage.
Age: 36 Terran years.
History: Patrick Harding was born on one of the hive worlds of the Collective, forced into the cruel reality of the Hive - if you made someone upset, you got shot. His parents and friends made that mistake often, and didn't always survive. To escape that terror, he fled to the safety of the art of technology. He created small gadgets here and there, but they saved him on numerous occasions. Several times his technology took a bullet or a knife that should have taken his life. He rose from the bottom, though, refusing to succumb to the violence wholly. He became known to noncorrupt planetary law enforcement agencies, who took him in and protected him, in return for some of his technology. An upgraded suit of armour here, or a shock-maul with increased voltage - over time, he massively upgraded the police force's capabilities. The hive remained a terrible place, obviously, but order was forged out of that chaos. He eventually caught wind of the Wind Riders, an incredible organization, and eventually came to regard them as a sort of light in the darkness of the world he lived in. He trained, studied, built, and repeated for a considerable amount of time, then attempted to join the organization. He was rejected. He took it less as an order to go away, and more as an order to try again. He tried again the next time the opportunity rolled around, and succeeded.
Personality: Patrick is a bit of an agnostic, not one to deny or follow a certain religious belief or anything similar. He's generally easy-going and cracks jokes, though he's very capable of putting that joking side away and becoming as serious as death. He tries to be easy to get along with, though most of the time he ends up making a fool of himself. Regardless of his playing around, though, he follows the law to the letter and refuses to break it, going some lengths to convince others to follow it as well. He will not, however, physically restrain someone unless he strongly believes that measures should be taken to prevent them from carrying out whatever action they wish to go through with.
Core Belief: Patrick believes that, despite life's violent nature, it's something that should generally be cherished and not erased. Of course, that doesn't stop him from killing if he decides it's necessary in that situation.
Equipment:
Patrick has a large suit of power armor, as well as a high-powered Gauss assault rifle to go with it - think SC2 Marines. He also carries basic hygiene products such as a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, and an advanced medical kit. He also carries ammunition for his rifle and a small supply of explosive weaponry, specifically fragmentation and incendiary grenades.
Ship:
Patrick's ship is something of an anomalous thing, barely being able to be called a ship. It's a small ship with a five-man crew quarter, with twin turbolaser turrets on the sides, as well as maneuvering thrusters. It has main thrusters, but they are not as powerful as one would expect. Additionally, it amplifies his magic so it can be used on a far larger scale, light-year-long distances traversed in mere moments.
Magic:
Patrick only has one power, but it is still quite amazing. He has the ability to expand and contract spacetime around him - his main application of this is apparent lightspeed travel, though it also has other uses.
Can I post him in characters now?
"It's my armor. I didn't come here knowing anything about this place, so I came prepared for the worst. I also said a few thousand years into the future. The centuries are the error margin."
There isn't a solid plot, I think.
"Oh, a couple thousand years from now, give or take three centuries. You don't seem human, a bit pale for it."
He chuckles at the understatement.
"Vampiress?"
He picks up the water and swishes it around in its container, then takes a long draught of it.
He chuckles at the understatement.
"Vampiress?"
He picks up the water and swishes it around in its container, then takes a long draught of it.
"Great. ALICE, let me out."
He looks at a holographic display in front of his face, and frowns.
"Nevermind. What're the options for drinks?"
Another holographic display pops up, and he sighs.
"Do you have water?"
He looks at a holographic display in front of his face, and frowns.
"Nevermind. What're the options for drinks?"
Another holographic display pops up, and he sighs.
"Do you have water?"
He finishes his survey of the room and nods inside his helmet, satisfied that nothing in here could truly hurt him, barring unseen weaponry and magical enchantments or attacks. The visor depolarizes and then flips up, revealing a grizzled, heavily scarred man's face. He had short-cut hair and a perpetual scowl caused by a deep, marring scar across his face. He speaks in a low voice, though by no means quiet, his ears deafened by decades of unceasing gunfire and artillery.
"Right, I'm guessing this is a tavern, or pub, or whatever the hell you'd like to call it."
"Right, I'm guessing this is a tavern, or pub, or whatever the hell you'd like to call it."
I'll fix the Core Beliefs.
Two main reasons: As you stated before, what a character doesn't understand fully about what they're doing is powered by pure, raw magical energy - a presumably finite resource. Patrick can't use it 24/7 to get him out of trouble, and thus has relegated it to either emergency use or travel. The other reason is that Patrick loves technology and innovation. Something he really wants to create, or at least see, is a successful suit of magitech armor.
Two main reasons: As you stated before, what a character doesn't understand fully about what they're doing is powered by pure, raw magical energy - a presumably finite resource. Patrick can't use it 24/7 to get him out of trouble, and thus has relegated it to either emergency use or travel. The other reason is that Patrick loves technology and innovation. Something he really wants to create, or at least see, is a successful suit of magitech armor.
The man stumbles upon the same tavern. He takes the time to find out it is indeed the tavern, and marks the location on a map kept by the artificial intelligence inside his suit. It's time to figure out when and where he is. He opens the door and looks around, likely an imposing sight - an 8-foot tall suit of sophisticated, blood-red power armor, holding a massive slab of gun, the occupant's face hidden by a polarized visor. He surveyed the room from within the suit, searching for anything immediately threatening to him, such as defensive countermeasures or guards/bouncers.
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