Shoot 'Em In The Head Character Application
Character you would like to play: Marcus Vincent
Original Character or Established? (If established, please state what medium your character first appeared in): Original
Basic history of the character up until this point: Marcus grew up in a nice middle class neighborhood just outside of Boston. His mother was an office manager and his father was a cop with over 20 years on the force. He had lived a pretty unremarkable life up until he was about 14 when everything changed. He came home from football practice one October evening to find police cruisers parked in front of his house, along with news vans and nearly everyone from his neighborhood gathered around trying to see what was going on. He arrived to the police line just in time to see the bodies of his mother and older sister being loaded into the coroner's van. His father's cruiser was found several hours later, riddled with bullet holes, his father's corpse was inside. Later, he learned that the death of his family was a retaliation for an arrest his father had made several years prior.
After the death of his family, everything changed for Marcus, he went from foster home to foster home, never staying in one place too long. The various families all said the same thing, he was just impossible to deal with. He stopped going to school and began hanging out with a bad crowd. This is when he started getting into trouble. He was constantly getting arrested for getting into fights and various other offense, though generally they were usually pretty minor. Until, at the age of 20, he broke into a pawn shop with acouple of friends with the intention of robbing it. He did not know that the owner was there late doing inventory and heard them come in through a rear window. The man came at them with a shotgun to try and scare them off, but Marcus shot the man with a .45 revolver, killing him. He had been in jail for 12 years when the outbreak started.
Character's Skills: Marcus spent more than half of his life on the streets. During that time, he has developed a very specific set of skills.He knows how to get whatever it is that he needs to survive, whether doing so is legally or morally right or not. He is an expert when it comes to hotwiring just about any vehicle. He is an excellent marksman but is also handy with other items, actually prefering a machete to a gun, because as he says, "a machete don't run out of bullets."
Character's Items: Marcus drives a black Dodge Charger. He carries several high powered rifles, 2 shotguns and several pistols. Also, he has a machete, buck knife and several smaller knives.
Why Have You Chosen That Character?: This is a character who I think will pose a bit of a challenge to me as he is different from the characters I typically choose to play, and I think he would fit in perfectly with this game. I think it will be interesting to see how he develops as a character as the game moves on.
Two Complete Sentences Explaining What You Can Bring To This RPG : An experienced rper in several of the other games currently being played on the Hype. Also, someone who is extremely dedicated to whatever game he is in...and twinkies.
Please provide a small sample post in the format you wish to portray your character in:
I make my way through the darkened cell block, and I find it almost funny that for the first time in 12 years, I think I'd rather be stuck in my cell. When I woke up on my cot, and found the door to my cell open, I couldn't believe my luck. It seemed that all my prayers had been answered, I finally had an opportunity to get out of this hell...and with any luck, I just might see the outside world after all.
It didn't take long for me to realize that I was stepping out into salvation...but into my own personal hell.
Something just isn't right. Not only did someone open my cell door...but the entire prison is quiet. Too quiet. Even in the middle of the night, there are noises in a prison...hushed whispers, angry screams...grown men weeping because they have lost the will to live...or possibly their "jailhouse virginity." The silence is deafening.
I continue my trek from the cell block out to the corridor that leads into the main complex itself. I find myself looking for someone...another prisoner, a guard...anyone who can tell me what the hell is going on. But there is no one here. I'm all alone in this place, and for the first time in years, I'm scared to death. I long for the safety of my 10x10 cell...for the sanctuary of those same iron bars that I've cursed every single day for the last 12 years....but somehow I know that going back now would lead to certain death. So I continue on, into fear and uncertainty.
A strange scent reaches my nostrils as I make my way to the guard station, something that I can't quite place. As I make my way past the station, I put my hand down on the counter, and it touches something wet...and warm. I don't have to look to know what it is, but I venture a glance at the counter anyhow, and my suspicions are confirmed.
Blood...and it's relatively fresh.
Did Omar finally do it? He's been talking about busting out of here for weeks, said he had a plan...Could he...?
I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I turn to face whoever it is and find out just what the hell is going on. I see the familiar form of one of the guards making his way toward me. His name is Woody, he's one of the few decent guys in this place, on either side of the bars. For the most part I like him, he's respectful and is always quick with a joke. But as he gets closer, I see that there is something wrong with him. He's hurt, the blood on his uniform and the way he staggers toward me is a dead giveaway.
"Woody? You alright pal?" I ask.
Then he lifts his head to look at me, and nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I see. His lower jaw is missing, as if something had torn it clean off....and his eyes...dead eyes, clouded over and white like a dead frog's eyes. I jump back with a start, and that's when Woody, the only friends I've had in 12 years in this hell hole reaches out for me, trying to get his cold hands around my neck.
Hands suddenly grab my shoulder, and I jump up, hitting my head against the driver's side window of my black Dodge Charger. I look around the inside of my car, seeing the two kids I picked up outside of Denver, Blake and Kirsten, staring back at me.
"The dream again?" Kirsten asks, worry showing on her pretty face.
"Yeah. Let's get out of here. Don't want to stay in one place for too long." I say as I turn the key in the ignition and drive off, not knowing where I'm going...just me, acouple of college kids, and a trunk full of guns.