I just wanted to make my character app now because I have the idea for the sample post in my head and I wanted to show you guys what I had in mind.
Character Name: Senior Chief Petty Officer Tarkon "The Purple Death" Amoni
Race (Human, Ferengi, Klingon, Romulan, Bajoran, etc): Andorian
Rank and Position (First Officer, Doctor, Security Chief, Bartender, etc): Senior Chief Petty Officer, Operations Division, Security Officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. Formerly held the rang of Sergent in the Starfleet Marine Corps (transfered his commission to the main service roughy five years ago).
Brief Back Story on Your Character: Born on a mostly Andorian Federation colony on the edges of the Beta Quadrant, Tarkon was the youngest son of a mining family. His father, who now ran the mining operation with Tarkon's uncle, and Tarkon's four older brothers had all served in Starfleet during wartime, his father during the Border Wars and his brothers during the Tzenkethi conflict. Much of his youth was spent helping the family business, and limited energy supplies weakened the colony financially. To escape from boredom, he had a knack for getting himself into trouble. Upon turning eighteen, he enlisted in Starfleet. His early career was mostly uneventful, working security at a military base and later on a starship. He got his first real taste of action during the Dominion War. Because of the great need for ground troops during the massive conflict, Starfleet recommissioned the previously defunct Starfleet Marine Corps, and Tarkon was one of the first to sign up. After going through basic training at the camp on Andoria, he went right into battle. He showed remarkable skill, especially in marksmanship, and was recruited as a sniper for a special forces team. During a mission to protect a group of civilian farmers on a colony world, the team found themselves facing a siege as Jem'Hadar ground forces landed on the planet, and over 1,000 soldiers set up camp not ten kilometers from the small farming town. Dressing himself in purple to match the foliage, Tarkon set himself up in the treetops awaiting the enemy. The siege of the lasted 100 days before the enemy withdrew from the area. Tarkon was instrumental to the defense and over those 100 days personally killed over 700 Jem'Hadar, only being shot himself once, earning him the nickname "The Purple Death". Later, on a long term mission deep within enemy territory, Tarkon's squad was cut of from the fleet and the squad leader was killed. Tarkon took up command, and personally led his team in a guerilla campaign against the Dominion. His team was responsible for the assassination of twelve Dominion military and political officials, including one Founder. After the war, he was awarded the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor. He spent the next five years in the Marines, working peacekeeping missions on Cardasia Prime
and on a few colony worlds, before transferring his commission to the regular service, as he wanted his career to be more relaxed. However, he specifically requested to work security on The Enterprise, because he didn't want it to be too relaxed.
Character Personality (list a brief description of their traits, morals, etc): Tarkon is career military, a patriot, and has a strong bloodlust. A good example would be the fact that for ever Jem'hadar he killed, he harvested the Ketracel White tube from their neck, and made over 100 necklaces from them. He treats the art of war like a religion, and has a personal obsession with the Starfleet Phaser Rifle, which is, as he puts it his "very most favorite gun." He is not, however, detatched from reality. He's usually a down to earth, blue collar man with a sense of human to match who sees himself as one of the guys. He simply sees war as the single highest art form in the galaxy. Imagine, if you will, a hybrid of Chief O'Brian and George C. Scott from "Patton."
Description of Your Character's Appearance (or simply post a picture if you're able): Andorian male, 6', white hair, standard Operations division uniform.
Color and Font of Your Character's Speech: Bold Blue Comic Sans MS, pinkskin.
What Can You Bring To This Game: A vast knowledge of Star Trek and a gruff, violent, potentially psychotic career military character who spits in the very face of the ideals it represents while killing scores of people to protect them. Booyah.
How Often Do You Plan on Posting in a Week For This Game: I', going to set aside at least one hour a week to post, but I'll probably end up doing more.
Sample Post (Must be at least 4 paragraphs long and contain two lines of dialogue from your character): [/QUOTE]
The crewmen, new to The Enterprise's security division, stood at attention in a single row, lined up like good little toy soldiers. That was the phrase that came to mind when he looked at them. Toy soldiers. They're just children, after all. Straight out of basic training. Playing games. Thinking they're grown ups. Wait'll they meet a borg, he things to himself. That'll show us who's really grown up.
He walked in front of them, down along the line. He looked them over. Got a good feel for them. He saw nervousness in their eyes. Fresh meat. Little lambs, and ready for the slaughter if he couldn't whip them into shape.
"Welcome to the Enterprise," he said, loud and stern in a voice that made him remind others of a very large blue brick.
"I'm sure The Captain has already greeted you. Given you a warm welcome. Shook your hand and smiled. The Captain of a starship is like a father to his crew. Stern, yes, but also caring. Commanding the loyalty, respect, and most importantly trust of his crew. And he is damn good at it. Naturally, as the proud crew of the flagship of the federation, ours is not the family structure of some backwards colony world. We cannot have two fathers. I am not your father. I am your jackass older brother who beats you up when I'm bored. As the highest ranking member of the security staff other than the head of ship security, it will be my duty to personally administrate our day to day activities and enforce all orders made directly to us. The Head of Security calls the shots, but I handle the details. As he has a lot on his plate, and I am an emotionally abusive megalomaniac, we feel this a tidy and mutually satisfying little arrangement. "
The crewmen did not move. However, all of them did start to sweat, or whatever their race's biological equivalent happened to be.
"Now, you were chosen for this position because you've got the stuff. But you probably accepted it looking for an easy assignment. Galaxy Class Starships. The Federation's floating military bases. Ferries politicians, troops, and scientists from point A to point B. Has some on board deep space research. There for emergency situations. Pretty cushy job for security, right? That is right, if you're talking any ship other than The Enterprise. This is as I said the flagship of the fleet. So we don't just get any politicians, we get top ambassadors and the President of the United ****ing Federation of Planets himself. We don't get any troops, we get the troops who's mission will prevent the downfall of modern civilization. We don't house just any scientists, we carry scientists who's research can warp the very fabric of reality and manifests in malevolent artificial intelligence. And our definition of an emergency situation is no less than the wrath of the Lord God Almighty razing the galaxy in fire. Pretty cushy, right?"
He walked over to the weapon's locker, grabbed a gun, and presented it to the crewmen.
"Tell me," he said. "What is is this?"
They all respond at once.
"It is a standard issue Starfleet Phaser Riffle, sir!'
"That is exactly correct!" he shouted with a smile. "And what is the Starfleet Phaser Riffle, exactly?"
There is an unpleasant silence, as everyone is afraid to give the wrong answer.
"No? The answer is damn ****ing obvious. The Starfleet Phaser Riffle is the single finest instrument of death God has every blessed this galaxy with. Eighteen power settings, simple interface, a power pack that'll last you a month... it may not have the destructive force of a Klingon Disruptor, but it has ten times the versatility. It is a thinking man's gun. And out here, it is your best friend. That is not colorful language. I do mean that literally. We live in a world full of telepaths and shapeshifters. Androids and holograms. Things that can kill you by looking at you and other things that can do the same but choose not to because taking they're time is just so much more fun. It is the only thing in the universe you can trust. You look at it, you see a hunk of plastic and circuits. You are dead ****ing wrong. Because when Cardasian terrorists try to assassinate the Romulan Ambassador, when the Klingon spy trying to steal the plans for a new defense grid decides you're in his way, when and unholy Eldrich abomination from the very depths of Space-Hell is unleashed by the arrogance of our science and decides to hatch eggs in your brain to birth it's demon babies, you will be painfully aware (right before an evil space-baby bursts out of your skull) that your Starfleet Phaser Riffle is your very best friend. And that is why each and every one of you will be doing target practice in Holodeck One for the next three hours. Is that clear?"
"Sir yes sir!"
"Dismissed!"
The crewmen marched off in a single file line like good little toy soldiers. He smiled, and gently caressed his riffle.
"I love this job. I ****ing love it."