oKageo

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

So we have a place to exchange ideas more freely

Guardians: Next Wave Etherpad

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

So how many ppl are you accepting? Just wondering cause it does have a small group tag and i think we hit that mark already. Of course it can always be changed lol

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

I thought you already accepted? @Chaotic Chao

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

Name: Atlas Forn

Appearance: Atlas has almost shoulder length white hair, and pale almost white, silver grey eyes. He stands at around 5’11, preferring a black outfit matched with a black hoodie. He has his lip, tongue, septum and ears peirced. He has a ring of hoops both ears and likes wearing golden or silver wristbands and rings. His bottom canine teeth both are made of platinum, and his high cheekbones and strong chin would make for a handsome face if not for the scarring along the left side of his face running from the corner of his mouth to his ear, giving him a permanent grimace. His body is also lined in scars from the incident.

Age: 19

Power(s): Vector Manipulation: Atlas can change the magnitude and direction of an object to move it in a desired way. He is limited to within 35 feet of himself, and it required calculation or else he ends up on his ass. (I think most of us get this power if not I will go into more detail but i feel that's enough.

Enhanced Intelligence: Atlas is able to do complicated math almost instantly in his head. He is also very perceptive to people and their subtle cues as well as his surroundings. While in prison he did as much studying as he could, he actually figured the humans would ask for help a week prior. This ability leaves Atlas to seem either rude or standoffish at times.

Personality: Atlas is calm as they come, he has a rough past but he quickly learned in prison, everyone has a rough past. He never gets into many fights but when he does he gets a thrill out of watching others suffer. His intelligence often makes him appear as though he is not present, or unaware of his surroundings, though he is likely doing complicated calculations or running a thought experiment.

Atlas really isn’t a mean guy if you got to know him, he seems a bit maniacal and can be a bit intimidating but you’ll find if you don’t let that scare you, you’ll have a loyal friend. He’s been known to crack a joke at inappropriate times and often seems as though he has no idea what is going on at all. He isn’t conscious at all about his appearance.

Bio: Atlas grew up in a slums, where he survived with a gang of orphans. As he grew older, people around the slums began to ridicule him because of his status and looks. They would walk the street sneering comments like it was bile as they passed him. Things like ‘With a face like that he must have a rock for a brain to be out on these streets.” along with much worse. Words never hurt Atlas, he never let them see him shed a tear. Until one night the older orphans ganged up on him, with an intent to kill.

In a busy marketplace, Atlas had strummed a small guitar he'd found in a dumpster behind a music shop. It was old and not in the best of shape, but he quickly had it patched up and was making a good amount of cash off the people walking through the marketplace. Word had got around to some of the kids he had grown up with, and now they had cornered him in a dark, dank alley. They began beating the boy until he fell and couldn’t move a muscle. His whole life, no matter the fight, these boys had always beaten him, had always crushed him in the dirt like the ant he felt like. His whole life he had let them walk on him. But has one of the bigger boys put his boot to Atlas's bleeding head and dug in, something broke. Something precious.

The boy ground down hard, and Atlas felt dirt get in the gash along his cheek from where they had held him down and carved into him. He cried that night. Cried for a mother he never knew, to comfort him. Cried for a father to come and find him. And none would come. The boy who had been crushing Atlas’s head was laughing telling a joke to the others, as they had a laugh as well, he dug his heel in and Atlas could hear his cheek bones crack. He felt his childhood fade into memory. Felt the chilling whisper of death as he was dragged from the hole he had been hiding in his whole life.

The boy who played the guitar for change, in that busy market place with a genuine smile. He had died that day. In his place was a monster only told about in storybooks. He felt through the boys boot, felt the blood just under the skin there. Felt the wind as it howled to cover the echos of kicking. The kicking didn’t stop. That's all he wanted as he felt the breath, even come out of their mouths. Hot and slow.

Then Suddenly it all stopped.

Screaming replaced the cover of the howling wind. In a motion the boys who had been kicking him suddenly were hit in the chest with their own kicking power, doubled. Atlas knew any harder than that and he was likely to blow a hole through them. He didn’t dare want to do that. He laughed as the breath they breathed smacked them in the back of the throat, blocking each one's airways. As they rolled on the ground he giggled, blood covering his body, kicking them and tearing limbs off. He was practically giddy when he sunk a finger into one boy's heart silencing his screams.

As he walked away from that alley painted in blood, he couldn’t tell weather it was his or his own. He didn’t care. He walked through those slums one last time, and then left forever. Some people tried to stop him as he walked, asked whose blood he was covered in, he would simply turn to them and smile, the gash in his cheek pouring blood. He stopped at a canal and washed away all the filth. That day on his 18th birthday the real Atlas died. Atlas laughed, when they finally caught up to him, he had left a trail of politicians and other scum in his wake before they finally cracked down on the Gifted.

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

Oh, okay. My grammar was very bad in the first one i posted and some words were still misspelled, I quadruple checked it lol so i think it should be smooth sailing now. I realize some parts were hard to understand so I edited that. I also didn't really add anything about the radiation i kind of figure both that it was implied and that whilst being beat one can let something like that slip their mind.

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

Is it my use of 'there, their and they're' ? Because I do mess that up a lot, its been a problem of mine for a long time and Ive been trying to fix it.

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

@oKageo Also, I'm gonna assume the wave field of radiation helped him gain his powers.

But just in case you haven't read the lore, a wave field of radiation had hit Earth giving specific people with specific genes superpowers.

@Chaotic Chao

Right I wasn't sure how to describe that since you didn't tell us how it looked or anything i didn't want to fuck anything up. And spelling? I fixed a lot of grammar mistakes but i didn't find that many spelling errors, ill go through and look again.

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

Name: Atlas Forn

Appearance: Atlas has almost shoulder length white hair, and pale almost white, silver grey eyes. He stands at around 5’11, preferring a black outfit matched with a black hoodie. He has his lip, tongue, septum and ears peirced. He has a ring of hoops both ears and likes wearing golden or silver wristbands and rings. His bottom canine teeth both are made of platinum, and his high cheekbones and strong chin would make for a handsome face if not for the scarring along the left side of his face running from the corner of his mouth to his ear, giving him a permanent grimace. His body is also lined in scars from the incident.

Age: 19

Power(s): Vector Manipulation: Atlas can change the magnitude and direction of an object to move it in a desired way. He is limited to within 35 feet of himself, and it required calculation or else he ends up on his ass. (I think most of us get this power if not I will go into more detail but i feel that's enough.

Enhanced Intelligence: Atlas is able to do complicated math almost instantly in his head. He is also very perceptive to people and their subtle cues as well as his surroundings. While in prison he did as much studying as he could, he actually figured the humans would ask for help a week prior. This ability leaves Atlas to seem either rude or standoffish at times.

Personality: Atlas is calm as they come, he has a rough past but he quickly learned in prison, everyone has a rough past. He never gets into many fights but when he does he gets a thrill out of watching others suffer. His intelligence often makes him appear as though he is not present, or unaware of his surroundings, though he is likely doing complicated calculations or running a thought experiment.

Atlas really isn’t a mean guy if you got to know him, he seems a bit maniacal and can be a bit intimidating but you’ll find if you don’t let that scare you, you’ll have a loyal friend. He’s been known to crack a joke at inappropriate times and often seems as though he has no idea what is going on at all. He isn’t conscious at all about his appearance.

Bio: Atlas grew up in a slums, where he survived with a gang of orphans. As he grew older, people around the slums began to ridicule him because of his status and looks. They would walk the street sneering comments like it was bile as they passed him. Things like ‘With a face like that he must have a rock for a brain to be out on these streets.” along with much worse. Words never hurt Atlas, he never let them see him shed a tear. Until one night the older orphans ganged up on him, with an intent to kill.

In a busy marketplace, Atlas had strummed a small guitar he'd found in a dumpster behind a music shop. It was old and not in the best of shape, but he quickly had it patched up and was making a good amount of cash off the people walking through the marketplace. Word had got around to some of the kids he had grown up with, and now they had cornered him in a dark, dank alley. They began beating the boy until he fell and couldn’t move a muscle. His whole life, no matter the fight, these boys had always beaten him, had always crushed him in the dirt like the ant he felt like. His whole life he had let them walk on him. But has one of the bigger boys put his boot to Atlas's bleeding head and dug in, something broke. Something precious.

The boy ground down hard, and Atlas felt dirt get in the gash along his cheek from where they had held him down and carved into him. He cried that night. Cried for a mother he never knew, to comfort him. Cried for a father to come and find him. And none would come. The boy who had been crushing Atlas’s head was laughing telling a joke to the others, as they had a laugh as well, he dug his heel in and Atlas could hear his cheek bones crack. He felt his childhood fade into memory. Felt the chilling whisper of death as he was dragged from the hole he had been hiding in his whole life.

The boy who played the guitar for change, in that busy market place with a genuine smile. He had died that day. In his place was a monster only told about in storybooks. He felt through the boys boot, felt the blood just under the skin there. Felt the wind as it howled to cover the echos of kicking. The kicking didn’t stop. That's all he wanted as he felt the breath, even come out of their mouths. Hot and slow.

Then Suddenly it all stopped.

Screaming replaced the cover of the howling wind. In a motion the boys who had been kicking him suddenly were hit in the chest with their own kicking power, doubled. Atlas knew any harder than that and he was likely to blow a hole through them. He didn’t dare want to do that. He laughed as the breath they breathed smacked them in the back of the throat, blocking each one's airways. As they rolled on the ground he giggled, blood covering his body, kicking them and tearing limbs off. He was practically giddy when he sunk a finger into one boy's heart silencing his screams.

As he walked away from that alley painted in blood, he couldn’t tell weather it was his or his own. He didn’t care. He walked through those slums one last time, and then left forever. Some people tried to stop him as he walked, asked whose blood he was covered in, he would simply turn to them and smile, the gash in his cheek pouring blood. He stopped at a canal and washed away all the filth. That day on his 18th birthday the real Atlas died. Atlas laughed, when they finally caught up to him, he had left a trail of politicians and other scum in his wake before they finally cracked down on the Gifted.

Guardians: Next Wave [A Science Fiction Superhero Roleplay!] [ACCEPTING!]

Ill have a CS up in hopefully less than an hour, for some reason my internet likes to go down then block whatever server i was on so its done that to Google Docs and now i have to wait.

EDIT: Also just wanted to see if Vector Manipulation was cool?

@Chaotic Chao

Project Olympia 2.0

Ambrose

---

Ambrose appreciated Go’s reassurance. He walked across the room, and down a set of stairs that was brightly lit by florescent lighting. At the end of the stairs was a sliding metal door that opened as he approached. Must be some sort of sensor, he thought to himself. The room he was in was quite sleek looking. The walls all around him were a bleached looking concrete, and the room looked a bit like something out of a sci fi movie, a huge blue dome adorning the ceiling and glass paneling for viewers surrounding the room. Talk about feeling like a test subject.

Ambrose walked to the center as he saw the rest of the subjects walk in to the observation area. Saw the Doctor take his seat at a control desk. “What’s my mission?” Ambrose asked noticing the acoustics in the place, his voice rang back at him. Looking at the room there wasn’t much to judge off of. At the moment there was nothing going on. It just looked like a concrete bunker to Ambrose.

He waited for Rohrbach’s reply. He closed his eyes and let two hardwood batons form in his hands, he could feel the wood weave itself together like a puzzle that had been undone for years waiting for its owner to return and put all back in its place.

---

@HylianRose