DC: Year One-- Sign-Up/OOC Thread
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MST3K 4ever
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Should have an Oswald one up tonight...possibly even an Atom follow up.
MST3K 4ever
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Oswald and Atom tomorrow
MST3K 4ever
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Hey gang,
A couple of notes:
1) I will post tonight
2) My posting for the next 10 days is gonna be here and there. I am going on vacation to the beach for the next 10 days...HOWEVER I will keep up with the OOC through my phone and post on a tablet when I can.
Peace.
A couple of notes:
1) I will post tonight
2) My posting for the next 10 days is gonna be here and there. I am going on vacation to the beach for the next 10 days...HOWEVER I will keep up with the OOC through my phone and post on a tablet when I can.
Peace.
Quiet OOC is quiet.
Awesome Supes post, Andy. Loved the flashbacks and how you told the story of Clark and Lana.
And loving seeing MST3K writing Rhiannon Palmer again.
Also, Question and Constantine. Both awesome, great posts. Enjoying the Scarecrow as well.
But, DC love aside, let's liven up the OOC! *breaks out the pony keg*
Awesome Supes post, Andy. Loved the flashbacks and how you told the story of Clark and Lana.
And loving seeing MST3K writing Rhiannon Palmer again.
Also, Question and Constantine. Both awesome, great posts. Enjoying the Scarecrow as well.
But, DC love aside, let's liven up the OOC! *breaks out the pony keg*
MST3K 4ever
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I'll have a couple of posts either Monday night or Tuesday sometime. Gotta an idea for Rhiannon, still working on an idea for Oswald.
Morden Man
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DC Year One: Character Application:
Character Name: Michael John Carter, better known as Booster Gold.
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Hero.
Character Speech Color and Font (actually say what it is, like Blue Comic Sans): Bold Orange Verdana.
Powers and Abilities: Michael John Carter is, for all intents and purposes, a complete idiot. Given that he's from the twenty-fifth century he is privy to knowledge that most twenty-first century minds couldn't begin to comprehend, but half of it he's forgotten and the other half he doesn't realise is useful. Physically Carter is in very good shape given that he spent the best part of two decades playing American Football and was good enough to be considered one of the best college quarterbacks in the country.
In Carter's possession are several artefacts that he commandeered from the Metropolis Space Museum that grant him special abilities; a Legion flight ring that gifts him with the ability to fly, a forcefield belt that renders him almost impervious to harm, and a power suit that gifts him with superhuman strength. There are several other pieces of equipment scattered around Carter's apartment that he has yet to figure out exactly how to use, whether they've survived the journey through time, and his security robot Skeets is constantly making upgrades to the equipment he does have.
Skeets, above Carter's flight ring or power suit, is the most useful thing Carter owns. A sentient BX9 security robot designed by Kord Industries with the ability to process information at light-fast speed, as well as rather humble defensive capabilities of his own, Skeets acts as Carter's brain in lieu of Carter ever needing to strain himself to use his own.
Character Origin/Backstory: Michael John Carter grew up in twenty-fifth century Gotham City, a city no less impoverished than Gotham is today, and hoped to earn his way out through football. Carter's skill on the football field would eventually see him quarterback his hometown Gotham University to within a game of the state championship. The night before the game Carter's father, crippled by gambling debts and under pressure from some of Gotham's least savoury citizens, pleaded with his son to point shave. Carter relented and, though Gotham University still won the game, was eventually found out and banned from college football for life, narrowly missing out on a custodial sentence.
As a result of his actions Carter's name was dirt in Gotham City and with football now a dead end for him he sought employment elsewhere. Carter headed to Metropolis and sat the test to become a member of the Metropolis Police Department. The physical tests Carter aced as he expected, but he failed the mental tests royally and took to working as a night watchman at Metropolis Space Museum instead. It was after two months working there that Carter hatched his plan with the help of a BX9 security robot that was set to be decommissioned, he would travel to the past and establish himself as a superhero, finally attaining the love and adulation that he had sought and lost on the football field.
Why this character?: I've gotten caught up in really long character arcs for gritty, psychologically tortured characters before and I'm a bit burned out on it, to be honest. I was halfway through writing such an application when I decided that it wasn't what I wanted to do, instead I'd rather have a bit of fun, perhaps interact with other characters where possible, and not get bogged down too much. A character like Booster Gold is perfect like that.
What can you bring to the RPG?: I've been around the block a couple of times, so I know how these things work. I hope to be pretty active, especially since i've just graduated from university and finding work is looking a Herculean task at the moment.
Provide a short sample post as your desired character, in three paragraphs or more and featuring at least one line of dialogue:
[YT]WbTnC30foRw[/YT]
Somewhere in Central City
It is three in the afternoon. Almost three months have passed since Michael John Carter arrived in the twenty-first century and since then he was no closer to the fame that he had left his own time to pursue. The money that Carter had made selling LexCorp broken household utilities from the twenty-fifth century had begun to run low and the small one bedroom apartment in Central City his earnings had afforded him laid in complete disrepair. For the time being Carter busied himself by attempting to familiarise himself with twenty-first century culture, the security robot Carter had commandeered from the Space Museum, who he had dubbed Skeets, had suggested that he do so to make his integration into his new surroundings more comfortable. It was a suggestion that Skeets had soon regretted.
The next few weeks had seen Carter box himself in his apartment, surviving on pizza and the countless six packs of beer that made up the entirety of his fridge, whilst watching what seemed like thousands of hours of television. The movies of a certain Jean-Claude Van Damme had appealed to him the most, Kickboxer chief amongst them, and through them a love of Stan Bush had had burrowed deep in Carters heart and found a home.
Carter sauntered around his tiny front room, stepping over half-eaten slices of pizza and empty beer cans, whilst singing along at the top of his voice to Streets of Siam by Stan Bush in only a pair of stained underwear. The sight alone was enough to make Skeets thankful that Kord Industries hadnt fitted the BX9 with smell receptors. For the past few minutes Skeets had been hovering in the doorway to the front room, waiting patiently for Carter to finish. Skeets let out a metallic grumble upon seeing Carter hit the repeat button that caught the blonde-haired mans attention.
<Sir, there is a gentleman from LexCorp on the phone for you. From the tone of his voice I think its fair to say that hes figured out the temporal space distributor you sold him was little more than a broken remote.>
Skeets had warned Carter that it wouldnt be long before LexCorp figured out that they had been duped. As usual Carter had brushed aside his robotic companions worries without so much as a second thought.
Tell him Ill call them back.
Carter batted Skeets away with a hand and continued to dance around the room.
<I would, sir, but he insists upon being put through. Something about this being the fifth time hes called.>
For the love of God, Skeets, cant you see Im busy here?
The look on Michael Carters face told Skeets that he was being serious, as difficult as it was to believe. The robot had tried and failed on several occasions to motivate his companion into action, part of the reason that Skeets had accompanied Carter to the twenty-first century was because he had faith in the young man, though of late that faith was beginning to wane.
<Busy, sir? Ill be sure to remember that dancing in your underwear constitutes busyness going forward.>
Of course I'm busy, this is pop-rock legend Stan Bush we're talking about, Carter shot him a look of disdain mid-dance, stopping only for a second to point an accusatory finger at Skeets. So unless you've got a young Molly Ringwald on the phone, they can wait.
<Very well,> Skeets said, attempting to muster up a sound that Carter might recognise as a sigh. <Ill tell LexCorp that you are indisposed again then, sir.>
Good. Now go do whatever the hell it is robots do somewhere else, would you? Im going to need all my energy for the chorus and youre seriously harshing my vibe.
<Of course, sir.>"
With that Skeets scuttled out of the room and left Carter to his own devices. Carter smiled, as if liberated by the robot leaving the room, and sucked in a deep breath of air in preparation for the coming chorus. He took a step backwards and began to pound on an imaginary snare drum. Carters foot landed squarely in a piece of cold pizza, which he kicked underneath the couch nonchalantly, and began to sing at the top of his voice.
Doesn't matter where I go now,
You know what they say about me,
Everybody loves a winner,
Everyone can see that I am,
Everybody follows the leader, baby,
Cruising down the streets of Siam.
As the song ended Carter smiled triumphantly to himself and placed his hands on his hips. He kicked aside a pizza box to reveal the gold and blue uniform that lay underneath. It was strewn with red smudges that Carter deduced was dried tomato sauce; at least he hoped it was dried tomato sauce. He licked his finger and rubbed at the smudges until they disappeared, slid into the uniform and zipped it up, which took a little more effort than he cared to admit. Carter glanced around for a moment and spotted his forcefield belt in the corner, which he fastened around his waist, before making his way out of the room towards the kitchen.
Skeets? Carter called out. Skeets? Where the hell are you? Get out here so I can do my big reveal.
Carter waited for several moments whilst striking a heroic pose. After thirty seconds passed, he broke from the pose and huffed. Half a second afterwards Skeets whirred into the kitchen, causing Carter to mutter an obscenity under his breath and unconvincingly attempt to strike his pose again.
<You... You have your uniform on, sir,> Skeets said, his tone noticeably more cheerful. <Does this mean today is finally the day?>
That's right, humble robotic servant, today is the day the world is introduced to Goldstar!
Skeets had lost count of the number of times he had tried to talk his companion out of naming himself Goldstar. After three months of sitting on his laurels, eating pizza, swilling back cheap beer, and watching Jean-Claude Van Damme films on a loop, Carter had finally taken his first step towards becoming the man he swore he would be upon leaving the twenty-fifth century. No more sitting around, no more doing nothing, Carter would become the greatest superhero the world had ever seen.
At least, Skeets hoped so. The fate of the universe rested on it.
This is going to be so fricking awesome.
Character Name: Michael John Carter, better known as Booster Gold.
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Hero.
Character Speech Color and Font (actually say what it is, like Blue Comic Sans): Bold Orange Verdana.
Powers and Abilities: Michael John Carter is, for all intents and purposes, a complete idiot. Given that he's from the twenty-fifth century he is privy to knowledge that most twenty-first century minds couldn't begin to comprehend, but half of it he's forgotten and the other half he doesn't realise is useful. Physically Carter is in very good shape given that he spent the best part of two decades playing American Football and was good enough to be considered one of the best college quarterbacks in the country.
In Carter's possession are several artefacts that he commandeered from the Metropolis Space Museum that grant him special abilities; a Legion flight ring that gifts him with the ability to fly, a forcefield belt that renders him almost impervious to harm, and a power suit that gifts him with superhuman strength. There are several other pieces of equipment scattered around Carter's apartment that he has yet to figure out exactly how to use, whether they've survived the journey through time, and his security robot Skeets is constantly making upgrades to the equipment he does have.
Skeets, above Carter's flight ring or power suit, is the most useful thing Carter owns. A sentient BX9 security robot designed by Kord Industries with the ability to process information at light-fast speed, as well as rather humble defensive capabilities of his own, Skeets acts as Carter's brain in lieu of Carter ever needing to strain himself to use his own.
Character Origin/Backstory: Michael John Carter grew up in twenty-fifth century Gotham City, a city no less impoverished than Gotham is today, and hoped to earn his way out through football. Carter's skill on the football field would eventually see him quarterback his hometown Gotham University to within a game of the state championship. The night before the game Carter's father, crippled by gambling debts and under pressure from some of Gotham's least savoury citizens, pleaded with his son to point shave. Carter relented and, though Gotham University still won the game, was eventually found out and banned from college football for life, narrowly missing out on a custodial sentence.
As a result of his actions Carter's name was dirt in Gotham City and with football now a dead end for him he sought employment elsewhere. Carter headed to Metropolis and sat the test to become a member of the Metropolis Police Department. The physical tests Carter aced as he expected, but he failed the mental tests royally and took to working as a night watchman at Metropolis Space Museum instead. It was after two months working there that Carter hatched his plan with the help of a BX9 security robot that was set to be decommissioned, he would travel to the past and establish himself as a superhero, finally attaining the love and adulation that he had sought and lost on the football field.
Why this character?: I've gotten caught up in really long character arcs for gritty, psychologically tortured characters before and I'm a bit burned out on it, to be honest. I was halfway through writing such an application when I decided that it wasn't what I wanted to do, instead I'd rather have a bit of fun, perhaps interact with other characters where possible, and not get bogged down too much. A character like Booster Gold is perfect like that.
What can you bring to the RPG?: I've been around the block a couple of times, so I know how these things work. I hope to be pretty active, especially since i've just graduated from university and finding work is looking a Herculean task at the moment.
Provide a short sample post as your desired character, in three paragraphs or more and featuring at least one line of dialogue:
[YT]WbTnC30foRw[/YT]
Somewhere in Central City
It is three in the afternoon. Almost three months have passed since Michael John Carter arrived in the twenty-first century and since then he was no closer to the fame that he had left his own time to pursue. The money that Carter had made selling LexCorp broken household utilities from the twenty-fifth century had begun to run low and the small one bedroom apartment in Central City his earnings had afforded him laid in complete disrepair. For the time being Carter busied himself by attempting to familiarise himself with twenty-first century culture, the security robot Carter had commandeered from the Space Museum, who he had dubbed Skeets, had suggested that he do so to make his integration into his new surroundings more comfortable. It was a suggestion that Skeets had soon regretted.
The next few weeks had seen Carter box himself in his apartment, surviving on pizza and the countless six packs of beer that made up the entirety of his fridge, whilst watching what seemed like thousands of hours of television. The movies of a certain Jean-Claude Van Damme had appealed to him the most, Kickboxer chief amongst them, and through them a love of Stan Bush had had burrowed deep in Carters heart and found a home.
Carter sauntered around his tiny front room, stepping over half-eaten slices of pizza and empty beer cans, whilst singing along at the top of his voice to Streets of Siam by Stan Bush in only a pair of stained underwear. The sight alone was enough to make Skeets thankful that Kord Industries hadnt fitted the BX9 with smell receptors. For the past few minutes Skeets had been hovering in the doorway to the front room, waiting patiently for Carter to finish. Skeets let out a metallic grumble upon seeing Carter hit the repeat button that caught the blonde-haired mans attention.
<Sir, there is a gentleman from LexCorp on the phone for you. From the tone of his voice I think its fair to say that hes figured out the temporal space distributor you sold him was little more than a broken remote.>
Skeets had warned Carter that it wouldnt be long before LexCorp figured out that they had been duped. As usual Carter had brushed aside his robotic companions worries without so much as a second thought.
Tell him Ill call them back.
Carter batted Skeets away with a hand and continued to dance around the room.
<I would, sir, but he insists upon being put through. Something about this being the fifth time hes called.>
For the love of God, Skeets, cant you see Im busy here?
The look on Michael Carters face told Skeets that he was being serious, as difficult as it was to believe. The robot had tried and failed on several occasions to motivate his companion into action, part of the reason that Skeets had accompanied Carter to the twenty-first century was because he had faith in the young man, though of late that faith was beginning to wane.
<Busy, sir? Ill be sure to remember that dancing in your underwear constitutes busyness going forward.>
Of course I'm busy, this is pop-rock legend Stan Bush we're talking about, Carter shot him a look of disdain mid-dance, stopping only for a second to point an accusatory finger at Skeets. So unless you've got a young Molly Ringwald on the phone, they can wait.
<Very well,> Skeets said, attempting to muster up a sound that Carter might recognise as a sigh. <Ill tell LexCorp that you are indisposed again then, sir.>
Good. Now go do whatever the hell it is robots do somewhere else, would you? Im going to need all my energy for the chorus and youre seriously harshing my vibe.
<Of course, sir.>"
With that Skeets scuttled out of the room and left Carter to his own devices. Carter smiled, as if liberated by the robot leaving the room, and sucked in a deep breath of air in preparation for the coming chorus. He took a step backwards and began to pound on an imaginary snare drum. Carters foot landed squarely in a piece of cold pizza, which he kicked underneath the couch nonchalantly, and began to sing at the top of his voice.
Doesn't matter where I go now,
You know what they say about me,
Everybody loves a winner,
Everyone can see that I am,
Everybody follows the leader, baby,
Cruising down the streets of Siam.
As the song ended Carter smiled triumphantly to himself and placed his hands on his hips. He kicked aside a pizza box to reveal the gold and blue uniform that lay underneath. It was strewn with red smudges that Carter deduced was dried tomato sauce; at least he hoped it was dried tomato sauce. He licked his finger and rubbed at the smudges until they disappeared, slid into the uniform and zipped it up, which took a little more effort than he cared to admit. Carter glanced around for a moment and spotted his forcefield belt in the corner, which he fastened around his waist, before making his way out of the room towards the kitchen.
Skeets? Carter called out. Skeets? Where the hell are you? Get out here so I can do my big reveal.
Carter waited for several moments whilst striking a heroic pose. After thirty seconds passed, he broke from the pose and huffed. Half a second afterwards Skeets whirred into the kitchen, causing Carter to mutter an obscenity under his breath and unconvincingly attempt to strike his pose again.
<You... You have your uniform on, sir,> Skeets said, his tone noticeably more cheerful. <Does this mean today is finally the day?>
That's right, humble robotic servant, today is the day the world is introduced to Goldstar!
Skeets had lost count of the number of times he had tried to talk his companion out of naming himself Goldstar. After three months of sitting on his laurels, eating pizza, swilling back cheap beer, and watching Jean-Claude Van Damme films on a loop, Carter had finally taken his first step towards becoming the man he swore he would be upon leaving the twenty-fifth century. No more sitting around, no more doing nothing, Carter would become the greatest superhero the world had ever seen.
At least, Skeets hoped so. The fate of the universe rested on it.
This is going to be so fricking awesome.
Last edited:
Blacklight
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As someone who played Booster in the past with a notable run, I dare say APPROVE THIS MAN.
Morden Man
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Thanks a lot, hopefully I'll be equal to it.
Thanks, Andy.
Looking forward to more of your Supes, I've been enjoying it a lot so far.
MST3K 4ever
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IS THERE ANYBODY ALIVE OUT THERE?
I just severed ALL times to the previous site...this is the only one I am involved with! Let's go people!
I just severed ALL times to the previous site...this is the only one I am involved with! Let's go people!
Carnage27
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I'll have stuff up in both games the coming days. Just got back from a business trip
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