DC: Year One-- Sign-Up/OOC Thread

[Bounce]

"I was sending a message."

He remains unconvinced.

"No, Bruce. You were showboating."

God damn, MB. Great post.

 

[Carnage27]

Agreed, great start MB.

Flash is almost done, Scarecrow I hope to be up tonight too.

 

[Carnage27]

Here's a Year-One-ized Flash:

I love this.

Scarecrow will be up tomorrow. Seriously awesome start for Batman MB. Reread it and love it even more. I look forward trying to kill you.

 

[Bounce]

I look forward trying to kill you.

"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you."

"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die."

 

[Batman]

Well, now you've spoiled how the first Batman/Scarecrow bout ends.

Good thing Bruce built up an immunity to iocane powder.

 

[Batman]

(Also, thanks for the praise. I was legitimately worried I didn't have it in me anymore before I hopped back on the horse.)

 

[MST3K 4ever]

(Also, thanks for the praise. I was legitimately worried I didn't have it in me anymore before I hopped back on the horse.)

It's always there...it's just like swimming again after a long break...takes a couple of strokes to get back into it.

We're gonna be all-right.

 

[Byrd Man]

Been flaky in this game due to work and school. I'm going to drop Constantine and Cold and go for something I know better in an effort to get back on track.

Character Name: Samuel "Slam" Bradley

Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Walking the Line (Neutral Good)

Character Speech Color and Font (actually say what it is, like Blue Comic Sans): Bold and black

Powers and Abilities: No powers. Slam is an adept fighter with boxing and police firearm training. He is also a skilled detective with over twenty years experience in Homicide.


Character Origin/Backstory:

Samuel "Slam" Bradley grew up in Gotham's East End. A tough neighborhood, Slam was a scrapper and boxed Golden Gloves as a teen. After a knee injury ended his boxing career, Slam went into the only profession that would take a lug like himself: a cop.

Starting out as a beat cop, Slam eventually made detective and worked his way through assignments until he became a sergeant with the GCPD's Homicide Bureau. Partnered with Detective James Gordon, Slam and Jim were among the few non-corrupt officers in the GCPD. Fighting against the corrupt department and the everyday bleakness of the job had Slam on the verge of burnout until the case that killed his career came along.

It started out simple enough, a dead hooker found in a back alley. The case began to spin out of control, implicating a state senator, a high-end call girl service, and half of Gotham's politicians. The brass tried to bump Slam off of the case, but he refused to leave. In the end, he was dismissed from the GCPD on trumped up charges, accused of fraud because of a mislabeled time sheet. Out of a job, Slam took his connections and investigation skills and branched out on his own as an unlicensed private investigator. When he's not tipping a bottle, he works for whoever can hire him in and around the city.

Why this character?

I guess my main thing with Slam is I want to just write PI stories. I love the genre and I had fun with the character the last time I played him on the old site. I want to keep that going, and I want to continue to showcase the underbelly of Gotham that even Batman doesn't go to.

What can you bring to the RPG? That special Byrd touch.

Provide a short sample post as your desired character, in three paragraphs or more and featuring at least one line of dialogue:

New Year's Eve
East End of Gotham

Slam stumbled out the bar seeing double.

The Handlebar; call it a dive bar for the people that were too rough or too drunk or too sorry for regular dive bars. O'Shea's had been his watering hole of choice for nearly twenty years, but he was banned. O'Shea's was a cop bar and he was big time persona non grata anywhere cops gathered.

He turned his collar up against the cold. The old thing stunk of booze and smokes, just like its owner. Streamers going off all over the street; people celebrating the beginning of the new year. The Handlebar didn't celebrate New Year's, and he was glad for that. New Year's was for people dumb enough to believe things would change, it was for the people who had hope. Slam knew what hope felt like, the same way a guy with a voice box remembers what it used to feel like to not have a hole in their goddamn neck.

Big hands rifled through the coat, searching for his cigs and lighter. The big hands were passed down from the old man, the only thing he'd given Slam that was worth a damn. Pa Bradley went splitsville in the early 70's, leaving Ma Bradley and little Slam to fend for their own. The big hands were helpful back when he was a kid growing up. The scar on his third left knuckle was from Bobby Shaw's tooth when Slam beat his ass. Kicking ass on the streets turned into a boxing career, golden gloves mostly.

Slam lit the cigarette after a fifth attempt. He headed down the street, blowing smoke while the people celebrated. Going on five minutes til midnight; five minutes until the world odometer spun over to another miserable year. He passed more drunks stumbling to parts unknown just like he was, both parties giving silent acknowledgment as they passed that they were both part of the fraternal order of drunken bastards.

Halfway down the block, tires screeched and an engine revved. Slam turned too late. Four big men in black tracksuits jumped out a black SUV and drove Slam hard against the side of a building. The cigarette went flying along with the air from Slam's lungs. He gasped while one of the men worked on his ribs.

"Where is our money, ***hole?"

Thick Russian accent, bad breath. Call it: Pasha's men on a collection call. Pasha ran book for the Chechen and held a note on Slam for seventeen hundred. It was only five hundred until a few weeks ago, he doubled down on Preston Harper in the fight against Juan Lopez. Lopez had a glass jaw. By round four he'd be on the canvas crossed eyed while the ref called it. Harper went down in the second. Lopez's glass jaw, it turned out, was trumped by a fantastic left cross.

"Where is our money?"

The beating stopped. Slam sucked air, gulped and nodded.

"You try looking up your ass?"

Wrong answer. He always got mouthy when he was sauced. Three Russians held him against the wall while their buddy started tenderizing his sides again. He got into it, went high and punched Slam right across the face.

"You owe Pasha money. Two thousand."

"Seventeen hundred, Boris."

Backhanded slap smacked Slam's head back against the brick side of the building. He pulled away from the wall tasting blood, a cut somewhere in his mouth. Slam spat blood. It dribbled down his mouth and on to his tie.

"Two thousand, with interest. You don't pay in a week, it's four thousand. You don't pay a week after that, we kill you..."

"Not an effective way to run a collection service, Boris. But I guess all you Soviets don't realize how captalism really works..."

More slaps and blows, teeth rattling punches knocking him every which way. Boris breathed deepily; shook his head and spat in Slam's face.

"I was born in Gotham, ***hole. God bless America."

The muscle tossed Slam to the ground with a few more kicks in the ribs for good measure. He stayed still on the sidewalk, waiting until the car was gone before moving. He sat up and leaned against the wall, bruised and bleeding and did an inventory; no broken bones, ribs hurt like hell but were intact, ditto for the teeth. No serious damage, but their message was delivered loud and clear. Slam lit up another smoke and breathed in deeply. The smoke hurt the cut in his mouth, but he didn't care. Singing down the block, noise makers and music.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?"

He checked his watch. Twelve on the dot. Happy New Year. Slam laughed and stubbed the cigarette out on the cement. He leaned against the wall and sighed, wishing he'd just stayed at home and got drunk there.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?"

 

[Bounce]

Been flaky in this game due to work and school. I'm going to drop Constantine and Cold and go for something I know better in an effort to get back on track.

Character Name: Samuel "Slam" Bradley

I vote this only be approved if there can be a Kai-ro/Slam Bradley police drama at some point.

 

[Byrd Man]

The Martian Falcon

 

[Carnage27]

Sorry to see you drop Cold. Was hoping to go toe-to-toe.


You still gonna post in Marvel, Byrd?

 

[Byrd Man]

I'll try to have something up by the end of the weekend over there.

 

[Byrd Man]

So am I approved for Slammin' Sammy B?

 

[Bounce]

I see it now: Slam Bradley and the case of the missing approval.

 

[Byrd Man]

Why should I have been surprised, after all I had burned through characters faster than a chain-smoking broad goes through a carton of Virginia Slims. What was one more app to me? Did I really think it was my best work, or was I giving myself the high-hat and buying into my own story? Did Andy have the inside dope on my whole cop/crime shtick and he wasn't dancing to my samba any more? Or did he forget all about the app, the way a fat man forgets about his New Year's Resolution to work out three days after the first? I didn't know, but I wanted answers lickety-split.

 

[Andy C.]

Slam "Min' Salmon" Bradley is Approved. But considering you've dropped three characters already, this is your last one for a while.

 

[Bounce]

To recycle a great gif, I believe the only appropriate response to this is:

 

[Andy C.]

Cleaned up the roster a bit. Removed Constantine, Captain Cold, and Green Arrow, and added Slam Bradley.

Also, so far I've only had one post from GreyGhost as Sandman, and nothing so far from Cori as Batgirl. Anyone know if they're still around?

 

[Carnage27]

I should have posts up in the next few days.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Within the next 24 - 48 hours I will be making my posts. Life is about to get very interesting for both of my characters to say the least.

 

[Byrd Man]

Somebody post, dammit! I don't want to do a double post.

 

[Carnage27]

Somebody post, dammit! I don't want to do a double post.

There.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Somebody post, dammit! I don't want to do a double post.

Well since you were so nice...I guess I have no choice but to post now.

 

[Byrd Man]

I know. I'm so sweet.

 

[Shlee]

I"m not reading all 4 pages of this thread. No one's app'd Catwoman, have they?