Ultimate One Universe - Genesis: Sign-Up/OOC Thread
- Thread starter UltimateRPGs
- Start date
Byrd Man
El Hombre Pájaro
- Joined
- May 25, 2006
- Messages
- 21,577
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Character Name: Frank Castle/The Spectre
Alignment: WTL, for sure.
Character Speech Font and Color: Bold and black for Frank/Bold and Green for the Spectre
Powers and Abilities: The Spectre has the powers of a god, but Frank Castle only has access to a small portion of those abilities. Frank is immortal, but is unable to draw on the full range of the Spectre's omniscient powers. Instead he receives clues and flashes of truth from the Spectre. Outside of powers, Frank is an ex special forces Marine who is an expert in all forms of combat and murder.
Character Origin/Backstory
November 12th, 1950: Francis Castle is born in Queens
August 10th, 1964: Congress passes the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, allowing president Lyndon Johnson to use conventional military force to stop the Communist insurgency in South Vietnam.
July 28th, 1965: Johnson pledges to send nearly four hundred thousand troops to Vietnam, tripling the US commitment to fight Communist insurgents.
January 30th, 1968: Anti-Communist forces launch the Tet Offensive, pouring men and resources into the area and sending the conflict in Vietnam from police action to full-on war.
November 12th, 1968: Frank Castle enlists in the US Marine Corps
September 2nd, 1969: Sergeant Frank Castle ships out to join the 1st Marine Division as a platoon sergeant
December 25th, 1969: The Christmas Day Massacre near Đắk Glei wipes out half of Castle's platoon. He kills close to two dozen attacking VC with a M60 machine gun. Castle is awarded medals for bravery and recruited for Special Forces work.
January 1st, 1970 - April 30th, 1974: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE
May 1st, 1974: Granted a battlefield commission to 1st Lieutenant, Frank Castle is honorably discharged from the USMC and sent home.
June 2nd, 1975: Frank Castle marries Maria Castle.
March 24th, 1976: Lisa Castle is born.
August 17th, 1978: Francis Castle Jr. is born.
July 26th, 1980: Maria, Lisa, and Frank Castle Jr. are all murdered, caught in a cross-fire at Central Park between mobsters. Severely wounded, Frank survives.
December 18th, 1981: After two mistrials and numerous accusations of jury tampering, Jimmy Rizzo and Carlo Andolini, the two Scargetti Crime Family hitmen who killed Castle's family, are found not guilty by a jury of their peers. The same day Frank Castle leaves his family home for the last time.
December 20th, 1981: Jimmy Rizzo and Carolo Andolini are found dead, their bodies tortured and mutilated.
December 22nd, 1981 - March 17th, 1982: Fifty-two made men and associates of the Scargetti Family are brutally murdered by an unknown assailant.
March 18th, 1982: Fearing for his life and safety, Dominic Scargetti turns himself over to members of the FBI and confess to numerous racketeering and conspiracy charges. He receives life in prison.
March 28th, 1982: Frank Castle mails a letter to the Daily Bugle with explicit photos of Scargetti Family members shortly before their murders. In the letter, Castle claims that the men killed were the first casualties in a new war on crime he is waging. Not as Frank Castle, but as The Punisher.
1982-2002: Using his military background and money from murdered criminals, Frank Castle wages his one man war with the criminal syndicates in America. Over a twenty year span, he kills at least a thousand men in thirty states in addition to another two hundred speculated murders around the US and abroad. Until September 11th, he is first on the FBI's Most Wanted List.
2005: After three years in hiding, a cancer-ridden Frank Castle surrenders to two NYPD detectives. While awaiting trial, Castle is sent to the federal penitentiary in Fishkill, NY. The very same prison Dominic Scargetti has ruled like a king for thirty years. In a prison riot, Scargetti is stabbed to death by Castle before he is pounced on by an angry mob. Frank Castle is beaten to death by the angry prisoners, but not before the elderly and dying man kills seven of them with his bare hands.
2005-2012: In limbo, Frank Castle's soul lingers, unable to go to heaven or hell. The Archangel Michael, recognizing Castle's hatred and rage binds Castle's soul to the spirit of God's Vengeance, an entity known as The Spectre.
2012-Present: Using the powers and limitations of the Spectre, Frank Castle roams the world punishing the truly wicked.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": Frank Castle as the motha****ing Spectre, that's what!
What can you bring to the RPG: Another player, I suppose.
Sample Post:
Cambodia
1971
The four men waded through the thick brush towards their destination. Five past three in the morning and it was still humid enough that the sweat stuck to their bodies. They were dressed in jungle camo with a stripped down field kit that consisted of an M16, a .45 sidearm, a radio, one day's worth of C-rations, and an anti-venom kit.
The leader of the soldiers stopped the group short just before they emerged from the brush. He activated his radio and held it close to his mouth.
"Big Duke to Eagle Eye,"whispered Sergeant Frank Castle.
"Roger Big Duke,"the radio operator droned in the earwig stuffed into Castle's ear.
"Fire Team Delta has reached the boundaries of our orders. Ready and awaiting further orders"
The line buzzed with static. Castle knew what was going on on the other side of that line. A major was running an order up to a colonel, who ran it up to a general in Saigon, sitting in a plush office with a CIA man whispering in his ear. They weren't supposed to be in Cambodia but everybody in 'Nam knew what was really going on. The parameters of the mission had changed, the communists were hiding out in Cambodia. Covert special forces action and overt carpet bombing from the Air Force and was threatening to turn Vietnam into a two-country war. The more the United States struggled, the more it got stuck in the quicksand that was Southeast Asia.
"Big Duke, you are approved to move forward with mission as ordered. Eagle Eye out."
Castle cut off his radio and looked at the three men in the dark. Even though at twenty-one he was almost the youngest member of the fire team, he was their unquestionable leader who led them through many questionable missions.
"Let's move."
Hub City
Now
Castle came to on the third floor landing of an apartment stairwell. The side effect of his "condition" was that time had a bad habit of running together. One moment he was in 1985, drowning a mobster in a toilet in a memory so real and vibrant he could smell the piss in the bathroom and feel the water splashing on his wrist, the next moment he was thirty years in the future and back in the present. It was the thing inside him's fault. He could feel it stir every time he relived a violent memory, especially one that was painful to Frank. It lived to torture him. A prisoner forced to witness his worst memories with crystal clarity for the rest of eternity. Punishment for the Punisher.
Frank continued up the stairs to the apartment's fifth floor. The thing inside him became restless the closer he got to the door at the end of the hall. The trail that led him to Hub City was leading here. Castle was unsure of why he had been called to Hub, but it made sense the day he arrived and saw the newspaper headline screaming murder, the fifth victim of the brutal serial killer the papers dubbed Brighton Butcher because he dumped his victims in the Brighton neighborhood after hacking them to bits.
The entity inside Frank champed at the bit and actively sought to get out when Frank kicked open the apartment door and stepped inside. The moment he set foot inside the apartment he knew this is where the Butcher was killing his victims. Images flashed through his mind, screaming mouths and severed limbs and blood spatter.
The apartment was perfectly empty and pristine, no trace of the carnage that had taken place inside its walls. What was inside of him had the power to knew exactly who did this, but neglected to let Frank in on it. Instead, it thrashed and pointed him in the right direction to find the person responsible for the deaths of five people. He and Spectre would make sure the guilty party would face their punishment.
Alignment: WTL, for sure.
Character Speech Font and Color: Bold and black for Frank/Bold and Green for the Spectre
Powers and Abilities: The Spectre has the powers of a god, but Frank Castle only has access to a small portion of those abilities. Frank is immortal, but is unable to draw on the full range of the Spectre's omniscient powers. Instead he receives clues and flashes of truth from the Spectre. Outside of powers, Frank is an ex special forces Marine who is an expert in all forms of combat and murder.
Character Origin/Backstory
November 12th, 1950: Francis Castle is born in Queens
August 10th, 1964: Congress passes the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, allowing president Lyndon Johnson to use conventional military force to stop the Communist insurgency in South Vietnam.
July 28th, 1965: Johnson pledges to send nearly four hundred thousand troops to Vietnam, tripling the US commitment to fight Communist insurgents.
January 30th, 1968: Anti-Communist forces launch the Tet Offensive, pouring men and resources into the area and sending the conflict in Vietnam from police action to full-on war.
November 12th, 1968: Frank Castle enlists in the US Marine Corps
September 2nd, 1969: Sergeant Frank Castle ships out to join the 1st Marine Division as a platoon sergeant
December 25th, 1969: The Christmas Day Massacre near Đắk Glei wipes out half of Castle's platoon. He kills close to two dozen attacking VC with a M60 machine gun. Castle is awarded medals for bravery and recruited for Special Forces work.
January 1st, 1970 - April 30th, 1974: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE
May 1st, 1974: Granted a battlefield commission to 1st Lieutenant, Frank Castle is honorably discharged from the USMC and sent home.
June 2nd, 1975: Frank Castle marries Maria Castle.
March 24th, 1976: Lisa Castle is born.
August 17th, 1978: Francis Castle Jr. is born.
July 26th, 1980: Maria, Lisa, and Frank Castle Jr. are all murdered, caught in a cross-fire at Central Park between mobsters. Severely wounded, Frank survives.
December 18th, 1981: After two mistrials and numerous accusations of jury tampering, Jimmy Rizzo and Carlo Andolini, the two Scargetti Crime Family hitmen who killed Castle's family, are found not guilty by a jury of their peers. The same day Frank Castle leaves his family home for the last time.
December 20th, 1981: Jimmy Rizzo and Carolo Andolini are found dead, their bodies tortured and mutilated.
December 22nd, 1981 - March 17th, 1982: Fifty-two made men and associates of the Scargetti Family are brutally murdered by an unknown assailant.
March 18th, 1982: Fearing for his life and safety, Dominic Scargetti turns himself over to members of the FBI and confess to numerous racketeering and conspiracy charges. He receives life in prison.
March 28th, 1982: Frank Castle mails a letter to the Daily Bugle with explicit photos of Scargetti Family members shortly before their murders. In the letter, Castle claims that the men killed were the first casualties in a new war on crime he is waging. Not as Frank Castle, but as The Punisher.
1982-2002: Using his military background and money from murdered criminals, Frank Castle wages his one man war with the criminal syndicates in America. Over a twenty year span, he kills at least a thousand men in thirty states in addition to another two hundred speculated murders around the US and abroad. Until September 11th, he is first on the FBI's Most Wanted List.
2005: After three years in hiding, a cancer-ridden Frank Castle surrenders to two NYPD detectives. While awaiting trial, Castle is sent to the federal penitentiary in Fishkill, NY. The very same prison Dominic Scargetti has ruled like a king for thirty years. In a prison riot, Scargetti is stabbed to death by Castle before he is pounced on by an angry mob. Frank Castle is beaten to death by the angry prisoners, but not before the elderly and dying man kills seven of them with his bare hands.
2005-2012: In limbo, Frank Castle's soul lingers, unable to go to heaven or hell. The Archangel Michael, recognizing Castle's hatred and rage binds Castle's soul to the spirit of God's Vengeance, an entity known as The Spectre.
2012-Present: Using the powers and limitations of the Spectre, Frank Castle roams the world punishing the truly wicked.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": Frank Castle as the motha****ing Spectre, that's what!
What can you bring to the RPG: Another player, I suppose.
Sample Post:
Cambodia
1971
The four men waded through the thick brush towards their destination. Five past three in the morning and it was still humid enough that the sweat stuck to their bodies. They were dressed in jungle camo with a stripped down field kit that consisted of an M16, a .45 sidearm, a radio, one day's worth of C-rations, and an anti-venom kit.
The leader of the soldiers stopped the group short just before they emerged from the brush. He activated his radio and held it close to his mouth.
"Big Duke to Eagle Eye,"whispered Sergeant Frank Castle.
"Roger Big Duke,"the radio operator droned in the earwig stuffed into Castle's ear.
"Fire Team Delta has reached the boundaries of our orders. Ready and awaiting further orders"
The line buzzed with static. Castle knew what was going on on the other side of that line. A major was running an order up to a colonel, who ran it up to a general in Saigon, sitting in a plush office with a CIA man whispering in his ear. They weren't supposed to be in Cambodia but everybody in 'Nam knew what was really going on. The parameters of the mission had changed, the communists were hiding out in Cambodia. Covert special forces action and overt carpet bombing from the Air Force and was threatening to turn Vietnam into a two-country war. The more the United States struggled, the more it got stuck in the quicksand that was Southeast Asia.
"Big Duke, you are approved to move forward with mission as ordered. Eagle Eye out."
Castle cut off his radio and looked at the three men in the dark. Even though at twenty-one he was almost the youngest member of the fire team, he was their unquestionable leader who led them through many questionable missions.
"Let's move."
*****
Hub City
Now
Castle came to on the third floor landing of an apartment stairwell. The side effect of his "condition" was that time had a bad habit of running together. One moment he was in 1985, drowning a mobster in a toilet in a memory so real and vibrant he could smell the piss in the bathroom and feel the water splashing on his wrist, the next moment he was thirty years in the future and back in the present. It was the thing inside him's fault. He could feel it stir every time he relived a violent memory, especially one that was painful to Frank. It lived to torture him. A prisoner forced to witness his worst memories with crystal clarity for the rest of eternity. Punishment for the Punisher.
Frank continued up the stairs to the apartment's fifth floor. The thing inside him became restless the closer he got to the door at the end of the hall. The trail that led him to Hub City was leading here. Castle was unsure of why he had been called to Hub, but it made sense the day he arrived and saw the newspaper headline screaming murder, the fifth victim of the brutal serial killer the papers dubbed Brighton Butcher because he dumped his victims in the Brighton neighborhood after hacking them to bits.
The entity inside Frank champed at the bit and actively sought to get out when Frank kicked open the apartment door and stepped inside. The moment he set foot inside the apartment he knew this is where the Butcher was killing his victims. Images flashed through his mind, screaming mouths and severed limbs and blood spatter.
The apartment was perfectly empty and pristine, no trace of the carnage that had taken place inside its walls. What was inside of him had the power to knew exactly who did this, but neglected to let Frank in on it. Instead, it thrashed and pointed him in the right direction to find the person responsible for the deaths of five people. He and Spectre would make sure the guilty party would face their punishment.
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Morden Man
Civilian
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2014
- Messages
- 132
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 11
Let's get this bad boy humming along nicely again.
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
If I can get Cap in position in time, I would love to get him involved in Supes' big fight. I've got other things brewing right now, but with the first week of school underway, it may take me another day or two to bring them out.
Carnage27
No one's puppet
- Joined
- Dec 5, 2007
- Messages
- 4,405
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 31
If you want to jump in, feel free to do so. I'm out of town Friday through Tuesday, so I won't have another Superman post up until next Friday/Saturday at the earliest.
Morden Man
Civilian
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2014
- Messages
- 132
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 11
Thanks, it means a lot. Hell of a lot more on the horizon too!
Oh, and Carnage, though I've said it before I want to reiterate how much I'm enjoying your Batman. It looks like this Christmas will be one to remember for Gotham! So much is going on.
Matt Murdock
Avenger
- Joined
- Jun 29, 2005
- Messages
- 19,072
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Ultimate One Universe
Character Application
Character Name: Leonard Snart aka Captain Cold
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Walking the Line, Eventual Villain
Character Speech Font and Color: Arial Narrow, Light Blue
Powers and Abilities: He's got a really neat icey laser beam.
Character Origin/Backstory: When I pick him up, I'd like the Captain Cold moniker not to exist. I'm interested in regular old Leonard Snart, tough-as-nails scientist working for Roxxon in the American south. Probably Texas.
Got a degree in engineering from a mid-tier state school, despite testing well as he was growing up. Came from a good, loving family (unlike his DC counterpart). Pops was a military guy, so there was a lot of moving around. He grew up on a dozen military bases, most in the U.S., but some overseas as well. Did some basic military training, so he's tactically aware enough. Fitness is important, and his minds as sharp as when he did a little bit of high-concept science stuff in his younger years and managed to meet a few of the big scientific names of the Golden Days. Was a fly on the wall during some very important discoveries. Never the guy pressing the big red button, though.
He's got a practical worldliness, a sharpness to him. He knows how the rest of the world lives, but still believes in an idealized America. Never quite feels comfortable in his own skin, y'know? Born science whiz type. Real intelligent, deliberate, and methodical. By the books. Logical. The kid in school who was never quite bullied, but was never quite cool. With all that comes an overwhelming sense of mediocrity and a bit of social ineptitude. He's not rude, but he's not suave. He's dated, had one or two really good romantic relationships, but they all withered. Or fell apart amicably. Or just faded away. He's single, now.
Middle-of-the-road.
He's old as hell. Grizzled and battered. Couldn't retire because the big oil company screwed him out of a decent pension after he lived through two economic recessions, so he's left with a measly savings account. One or two bad falls on the job put him behind a desk. His life on the military bases taught him the importance of an active regimen. A few miles of jogging in the morning, weightlifting every other day. And, just you watch, he can get down and bang out twenty-five push ups like nobody's business. He's getting weaker, but not by choice. Working a few miles out from a refinery. Fluorescent lights, faulty air conditioning, the whole bit. He's content, though. Weather's nice. Work's stimulating. Coworkers are good, honest people. Real Americans. Remind him every day what his old man served for.
A bunch of folks sweating for the devil.
No deep-seeded resentment of his father or grandfather, no hokey I'm-gonna-get-'im obsession with The Flash, though I'd love to plan some stuff once the wheels get turning -- and some bigger picture stuff, too.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": Unlike his DC Universe counterpart, I'd like to write a Leonard Snart that's not weighed down with crippling and depressing family issues, but, rather, one whose past is a bit of a mystery. Whatever his family live was as he was growing up, I'll discover as I write him. These days, it's all the rage to take characters in the opposite direction of what audiences are expecting -- think Slade Wilson in the first season of Arrow. Still a mercenary, still deadly, but his role in that show is as an ally to Ollie Queen (I'm only four episodes into Season 2, so I dunno if he makes an appearance in the present-day storyline, there, but you guys are smelling what I'm stepping in, yah?).
What can you bring to the RPG: A decent story, I hope.
Sample Post (provide a short post of at least 3 paragraphs and 1 line of dialogue for your character):
The keys in the ignition to Leonard Snart's car clicked towards him as he shut the engine off. He stared forward, his eyeline just passing over the steering wheel of the sedan. Nothing fancy, no MP3 connection, no GPS, no paddles on the back of the wheel. Just taught leather seats, beaten from years of the same in-and-out routine, an air conditioner that had a rattle, and automatic locks. And windows -- that was important to Lenoard when he bought it.
The thing barely had a cupholder, yet here it was. Somehow, it'd survied another average trip to another average day at another average office. The type that popped up across the country in the 80s and 90s. Cookie cutter office parks, built for pushing capitalism into every remaining corner of land America had to offer, all for the ease of bringing jobs to the doors of hardworking Americans.
It had been seventeen seconds, and Leonard had been staring straight ahead. Engine off, staring at the brick wall of the office building. Still with his hands around the wheel, despite the lifelessness of his car. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes early. Doors wouldn't be open. Not yet. The janitor, Sal, a nice guy about Leonard's age, opened them every morning, and every morning the pair tipped their invisible caps to one another. One of the few Roxxon offices without an automatically opening and locking set of doors. Guess the paperwork here wasn't anything to be concerned with. Who's going to go breaking into an office just outside of Beaumont anyway? This wasn't Saudi Arabia. This wasn't an off-shore drilling station. Hell, this wasn't even a site for the proposed pipeline. Just a place where good folks came into work every day. Crunching numbers, pushing pencils, fueling the homes and cars across much of the state of Texas. Good work. Honest work.
Leonard glanced at his watch again. Sal would arrive any moment. Leonard caught a liver spot hiding underneath the leather strap of his watch. That was new.
"HURAGHA!' He coughed.
Might've been the scarring in his lungs from the pneumonia. Didn't matter. Sal was in view. The day was about to begin.
Character Application
Character Name: Leonard Snart aka Captain Cold
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Walking the Line, Eventual Villain
Character Speech Font and Color: Arial Narrow, Light Blue
Powers and Abilities: He's got a really neat icey laser beam.
Character Origin/Backstory: When I pick him up, I'd like the Captain Cold moniker not to exist. I'm interested in regular old Leonard Snart, tough-as-nails scientist working for Roxxon in the American south. Probably Texas.
Got a degree in engineering from a mid-tier state school, despite testing well as he was growing up. Came from a good, loving family (unlike his DC counterpart). Pops was a military guy, so there was a lot of moving around. He grew up on a dozen military bases, most in the U.S., but some overseas as well. Did some basic military training, so he's tactically aware enough. Fitness is important, and his minds as sharp as when he did a little bit of high-concept science stuff in his younger years and managed to meet a few of the big scientific names of the Golden Days. Was a fly on the wall during some very important discoveries. Never the guy pressing the big red button, though.
He's got a practical worldliness, a sharpness to him. He knows how the rest of the world lives, but still believes in an idealized America. Never quite feels comfortable in his own skin, y'know? Born science whiz type. Real intelligent, deliberate, and methodical. By the books. Logical. The kid in school who was never quite bullied, but was never quite cool. With all that comes an overwhelming sense of mediocrity and a bit of social ineptitude. He's not rude, but he's not suave. He's dated, had one or two really good romantic relationships, but they all withered. Or fell apart amicably. Or just faded away. He's single, now.
Middle-of-the-road.
He's old as hell. Grizzled and battered. Couldn't retire because the big oil company screwed him out of a decent pension after he lived through two economic recessions, so he's left with a measly savings account. One or two bad falls on the job put him behind a desk. His life on the military bases taught him the importance of an active regimen. A few miles of jogging in the morning, weightlifting every other day. And, just you watch, he can get down and bang out twenty-five push ups like nobody's business. He's getting weaker, but not by choice. Working a few miles out from a refinery. Fluorescent lights, faulty air conditioning, the whole bit. He's content, though. Weather's nice. Work's stimulating. Coworkers are good, honest people. Real Americans. Remind him every day what his old man served for.
A bunch of folks sweating for the devil.
No deep-seeded resentment of his father or grandfather, no hokey I'm-gonna-get-'im obsession with The Flash, though I'd love to plan some stuff once the wheels get turning -- and some bigger picture stuff, too.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": Unlike his DC Universe counterpart, I'd like to write a Leonard Snart that's not weighed down with crippling and depressing family issues, but, rather, one whose past is a bit of a mystery. Whatever his family live was as he was growing up, I'll discover as I write him. These days, it's all the rage to take characters in the opposite direction of what audiences are expecting -- think Slade Wilson in the first season of Arrow. Still a mercenary, still deadly, but his role in that show is as an ally to Ollie Queen (I'm only four episodes into Season 2, so I dunno if he makes an appearance in the present-day storyline, there, but you guys are smelling what I'm stepping in, yah?).
What can you bring to the RPG: A decent story, I hope.
Sample Post (provide a short post of at least 3 paragraphs and 1 line of dialogue for your character):
The keys in the ignition to Leonard Snart's car clicked towards him as he shut the engine off. He stared forward, his eyeline just passing over the steering wheel of the sedan. Nothing fancy, no MP3 connection, no GPS, no paddles on the back of the wheel. Just taught leather seats, beaten from years of the same in-and-out routine, an air conditioner that had a rattle, and automatic locks. And windows -- that was important to Lenoard when he bought it.
The thing barely had a cupholder, yet here it was. Somehow, it'd survied another average trip to another average day at another average office. The type that popped up across the country in the 80s and 90s. Cookie cutter office parks, built for pushing capitalism into every remaining corner of land America had to offer, all for the ease of bringing jobs to the doors of hardworking Americans.
It had been seventeen seconds, and Leonard had been staring straight ahead. Engine off, staring at the brick wall of the office building. Still with his hands around the wheel, despite the lifelessness of his car. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes early. Doors wouldn't be open. Not yet. The janitor, Sal, a nice guy about Leonard's age, opened them every morning, and every morning the pair tipped their invisible caps to one another. One of the few Roxxon offices without an automatically opening and locking set of doors. Guess the paperwork here wasn't anything to be concerned with. Who's going to go breaking into an office just outside of Beaumont anyway? This wasn't Saudi Arabia. This wasn't an off-shore drilling station. Hell, this wasn't even a site for the proposed pipeline. Just a place where good folks came into work every day. Crunching numbers, pushing pencils, fueling the homes and cars across much of the state of Texas. Good work. Honest work.
Leonard glanced at his watch again. Sal would arrive any moment. Leonard caught a liver spot hiding underneath the leather strap of his watch. That was new.
"HURAGHA!' He coughed.
Might've been the scarring in his lungs from the pneumonia. Didn't matter. Sal was in view. The day was about to begin.
Last edited:
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Well, file that one under "Unexpected Surprises" for the day! Welcome back, dude.
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Posts are coming (hopefully by the end of the weekend/Monday), but in the meantime...
Ultimate One Universe
Character Application
Character Name: Peter Jason Quill / Star-Lord
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Walking the Line
Character Speech Font and Color: Dark Red Palatino Linotype for Quill / Bold Dark Red Palatino Linotype for Star-Lord
Powers and Abilities: Due to Star-Lord's unusual parentage, he does possess slightly above-average endurance, strength, and healing. Otherwise, he is just an ordinary Terran. However, his potential lies not in superhuman abilities but instead in a set of specialized skills and equipment he has built up over a lifetime of being a spacefarer. He is a trained marksman, an expert hand-to-hand combatant, a skilled pilot, and generally resourceful all around. He's no stranger to using his wit and charm to try and wriggle out of a bad situation, though his success rate in doing so is mixed at best.
Character Origin/Backstory: Peter Jason Quill never knew his father. Ever since he was old enough to ask, his mother, Meredith, had always dodged the question - sometimes answering in half truths and riddles, often simply changing the subject. Growing up beneath the mountains of Colorado, the young Peter spent many nights sitting on his porch swing, gazing up at the stars which filled the night sky. Every now and then, he would catch his mother studying them, too. For reasons he had never been able to explain, she often had tears in her eyes on those quiet, star-filled nights.
While Peter was still very young, Meredith became quite ill. A doctor's visit confirmed the worst: she had contracted cancer. Unfortunately, the discovery came too little, too late. Neither radiation treatment nor chemotherapy could prevent Meredith's cancer from metastasizing. Peter watched in horror as his mother's condition worsened dramatically, seemingly overnight. Even on her deathbed, Meredith couldn't bring herself to tell Peter the whole truth about his father. "He'll come back for you, baby," she promised hollowly.
After Meredith's passing, Peter came to live with his step-father, Meredith's high school sweetheart Jake. Jake didn't make for much of a husband, and he was even less of a father. Physically and verbally abusive, Jake spent more nights drunk than sober. Peter became deeply unhappy. One night, after Jake had passed out from his fifth glass of whiskey, Peter packed his meager collection of earthly belongings and snuck out of the house.
While wandering the forest not far from home, Peter stumbled upon an unbelievable sight. An actual spaceship! Peter watched in stunned disbelief as a crew of green-skinned, pointy-eared men emerged from the damaged craft. Before Peter's very eyes, the strange visitors morphed and shifted into human shapes and set off to find supplies to repair their ship. While they were gone, Peter snuck aboard the spaceship.
For a week, Peter lived as a stowaway on the alien ship. At the first sign of docking, Peter slipped away from the "Skrulls" - as he had overheard them being called - and explored the spaceport where they had stopped. The little Terran was beneath the notice of most aliens he passed, and he lived for a while as an urchin there, begging and stealing to keep himself alive.
One day, Peter unknowingly tried to pick the pocket of a pirate captain. The man - who called himself Granack - was impressed by the Terran boy's attitude, technique, and spirit. Rather than punishing Peter for trying to rob him, Granack offered Peter a spot on his ship, Sanctuary. There, Peter came to know the rest of Granack's crew, a clan of pirates and scavengers drifting through space after the destruction of their homeworld, Luphom. The Luphomoids took Peter in as one of their own and raised him to be a proper scoundrel.
Once Granack grew too old to captain his vessel, he passed the reins over to his headstrong daughter, Nebula, who had grown up with Peter. Nebula's methods were, at times, too extreme for Peter, and a rift developed between the two. Eventually, Peter broke from the Luphomoids and set off to make a name for himself as the legendary outlaw Star-Lord.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": I've done a bit of blending between the backstories of Star-Lord, Nebula, and some recent Green Lantern villains. Star-Lord's history is itself a mix between his comics origin and the version presented in the Guardians of the Galaxy movie.
What can you bring to the RPG: At the moment? Some solid interaction and back-and-forth with Carnage27's budding Fantastic Four. Beyond that, I'm not quite sure. Another set of eyes on the cosmic side of One Universe, for as long as I play Quill.
Sample Post (provide a short post of at least 3 paragraphs and 1 line of dialogue for your character):
In the total absence of gravity aboard the shipwreck, the masked man propels himself through the abandoned hallways on jet-powered boots. The yellow light from his mask's lenses throws sharp shadows around every corner, intensifying the already eerie atmosphere aboard the wreck. The man brushes a hand against the Quad-Blaster holstered at his hip. Beneath the visor which totally obscures his face, he monitors a small readout displaying the ship's blueprints. If the plans were right, then the cargo hold should be just up ahead. So long as the damage to the ship had left that area untouched - and so long as no one else had raided the place yet - Peter Quill stands to make a lot of money on this job.
"Peter." The voice is at once soft, ethereal, and just a touch British. That last part was by Quill's design.
Peter touches a gloved hand to the transmitter on the outside of his helmet. "What's up, 'Rora?" he asks before consulting his HUD at a T-intersection. He turns left and continues down the darkened hallway.
"You have a call coming in from Dreeni," Aurora, the Milano's sentient artificial intelligence program, reports. "Shall I patch it through to your helmet?"
"Which one's Dreeni again?" Peter asks, half-interested. He comes upon a large metal blast door. This must be the cargo hold. Peter feels along the wall for an access panel. When he finds it, he pries open the metal plating, revealing the wiring beneath it. Peter reaches behind his back and produces a small electronic device from his belt. Attaching it to the tangle of wires, Peter presses a button and brings the holographic screen to life.
"She's the Kallusian," Aurora responds.
Peter's device flashes green, and the blast doors spring open silently. "Oh ho, not her, 'Rora. No way. I told her I'd call her next time I was in the quadrant. She must've heard I was there last week," Peter explains as he retrieves his device. As he secures it on his belt, he takes out a cylindrical tube. With a twist of the cap, the tube erupts in bright, white light, illuminating the cargo hold. There, mercifully untouched, are the crates and crates of precious cargo the ship was carrying. "We hit the jackpot, 'Rora!" Peter exclaims excitedly.
"Better make it fast, Peter," Aurora warns, "There's a ship approaching."
Peter's heart sinks. Frozen for a moment, Peter says nervously, "Lanterns?"
"No," she answers, much to Peter's relief. After a moment, she continues, "They're not responding to my hails. Hang on, I'll run an identifying scan."
As a precaution, Peter begins stacking the crates at the center of the room. If a quick exit is needed, Aurora could bring the Milano around, blow a hole in the exterior of the shipwreck, and pick up the cargo - and Peter - with the tractor beam. "'Rora? What's the damage?"
"Dreadnought-class," she replies. "It has a false identifying code, but I think--" The communication link falters. When Aurora's voice returns, it's laced with static. "Something's wrong, Peter. They're overriding my systems. I can't--"
"If it isn't Star-Lord," a new voice cuts in on Aurora's frequency.
Beneath his helmet, Peter grits his teeth. "Nebula."
The girl who grew up alongside Peter Quill laughs. "Thanks for rounding up our cargo for us, Quill. You saved us a lot of effort." The shipwreck trembles as turbolaser blasts open a hole in the ceiling above Peter's head. There, hovering ominously overhead, is Nebula's flagship, Sanctuary II. The turbolasers reposition themselves, and Peter can practically picture Nebula's hand on the control stick. "Now, stand aside, Earth boy, and let us collect our plunder."
Ultimate One Universe
Character Application
Character Name: Peter Jason Quill / Star-Lord
Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Walking the Line
Character Speech Font and Color: Dark Red Palatino Linotype for Quill / Bold Dark Red Palatino Linotype for Star-Lord
Powers and Abilities: Due to Star-Lord's unusual parentage, he does possess slightly above-average endurance, strength, and healing. Otherwise, he is just an ordinary Terran. However, his potential lies not in superhuman abilities but instead in a set of specialized skills and equipment he has built up over a lifetime of being a spacefarer. He is a trained marksman, an expert hand-to-hand combatant, a skilled pilot, and generally resourceful all around. He's no stranger to using his wit and charm to try and wriggle out of a bad situation, though his success rate in doing so is mixed at best.
Character Origin/Backstory: Peter Jason Quill never knew his father. Ever since he was old enough to ask, his mother, Meredith, had always dodged the question - sometimes answering in half truths and riddles, often simply changing the subject. Growing up beneath the mountains of Colorado, the young Peter spent many nights sitting on his porch swing, gazing up at the stars which filled the night sky. Every now and then, he would catch his mother studying them, too. For reasons he had never been able to explain, she often had tears in her eyes on those quiet, star-filled nights.
While Peter was still very young, Meredith became quite ill. A doctor's visit confirmed the worst: she had contracted cancer. Unfortunately, the discovery came too little, too late. Neither radiation treatment nor chemotherapy could prevent Meredith's cancer from metastasizing. Peter watched in horror as his mother's condition worsened dramatically, seemingly overnight. Even on her deathbed, Meredith couldn't bring herself to tell Peter the whole truth about his father. "He'll come back for you, baby," she promised hollowly.
After Meredith's passing, Peter came to live with his step-father, Meredith's high school sweetheart Jake. Jake didn't make for much of a husband, and he was even less of a father. Physically and verbally abusive, Jake spent more nights drunk than sober. Peter became deeply unhappy. One night, after Jake had passed out from his fifth glass of whiskey, Peter packed his meager collection of earthly belongings and snuck out of the house.
While wandering the forest not far from home, Peter stumbled upon an unbelievable sight. An actual spaceship! Peter watched in stunned disbelief as a crew of green-skinned, pointy-eared men emerged from the damaged craft. Before Peter's very eyes, the strange visitors morphed and shifted into human shapes and set off to find supplies to repair their ship. While they were gone, Peter snuck aboard the spaceship.
For a week, Peter lived as a stowaway on the alien ship. At the first sign of docking, Peter slipped away from the "Skrulls" - as he had overheard them being called - and explored the spaceport where they had stopped. The little Terran was beneath the notice of most aliens he passed, and he lived for a while as an urchin there, begging and stealing to keep himself alive.
One day, Peter unknowingly tried to pick the pocket of a pirate captain. The man - who called himself Granack - was impressed by the Terran boy's attitude, technique, and spirit. Rather than punishing Peter for trying to rob him, Granack offered Peter a spot on his ship, Sanctuary. There, Peter came to know the rest of Granack's crew, a clan of pirates and scavengers drifting through space after the destruction of their homeworld, Luphom. The Luphomoids took Peter in as one of their own and raised him to be a proper scoundrel.
Once Granack grew too old to captain his vessel, he passed the reins over to his headstrong daughter, Nebula, who had grown up with Peter. Nebula's methods were, at times, too extreme for Peter, and a rift developed between the two. Eventually, Peter broke from the Luphomoids and set off to make a name for himself as the legendary outlaw Star-Lord.
What Makes This Version "Ultimate": I've done a bit of blending between the backstories of Star-Lord, Nebula, and some recent Green Lantern villains. Star-Lord's history is itself a mix between his comics origin and the version presented in the Guardians of the Galaxy movie.
What can you bring to the RPG: At the moment? Some solid interaction and back-and-forth with Carnage27's budding Fantastic Four. Beyond that, I'm not quite sure. Another set of eyes on the cosmic side of One Universe, for as long as I play Quill.
Sample Post (provide a short post of at least 3 paragraphs and 1 line of dialogue for your character):
In the total absence of gravity aboard the shipwreck, the masked man propels himself through the abandoned hallways on jet-powered boots. The yellow light from his mask's lenses throws sharp shadows around every corner, intensifying the already eerie atmosphere aboard the wreck. The man brushes a hand against the Quad-Blaster holstered at his hip. Beneath the visor which totally obscures his face, he monitors a small readout displaying the ship's blueprints. If the plans were right, then the cargo hold should be just up ahead. So long as the damage to the ship had left that area untouched - and so long as no one else had raided the place yet - Peter Quill stands to make a lot of money on this job.
"Peter." The voice is at once soft, ethereal, and just a touch British. That last part was by Quill's design.
Peter touches a gloved hand to the transmitter on the outside of his helmet. "What's up, 'Rora?" he asks before consulting his HUD at a T-intersection. He turns left and continues down the darkened hallway.
"You have a call coming in from Dreeni," Aurora, the Milano's sentient artificial intelligence program, reports. "Shall I patch it through to your helmet?"
"Which one's Dreeni again?" Peter asks, half-interested. He comes upon a large metal blast door. This must be the cargo hold. Peter feels along the wall for an access panel. When he finds it, he pries open the metal plating, revealing the wiring beneath it. Peter reaches behind his back and produces a small electronic device from his belt. Attaching it to the tangle of wires, Peter presses a button and brings the holographic screen to life.
"She's the Kallusian," Aurora responds.
Peter's device flashes green, and the blast doors spring open silently. "Oh ho, not her, 'Rora. No way. I told her I'd call her next time I was in the quadrant. She must've heard I was there last week," Peter explains as he retrieves his device. As he secures it on his belt, he takes out a cylindrical tube. With a twist of the cap, the tube erupts in bright, white light, illuminating the cargo hold. There, mercifully untouched, are the crates and crates of precious cargo the ship was carrying. "We hit the jackpot, 'Rora!" Peter exclaims excitedly.
"Better make it fast, Peter," Aurora warns, "There's a ship approaching."
Peter's heart sinks. Frozen for a moment, Peter says nervously, "Lanterns?"
"No," she answers, much to Peter's relief. After a moment, she continues, "They're not responding to my hails. Hang on, I'll run an identifying scan."
As a precaution, Peter begins stacking the crates at the center of the room. If a quick exit is needed, Aurora could bring the Milano around, blow a hole in the exterior of the shipwreck, and pick up the cargo - and Peter - with the tractor beam. "'Rora? What's the damage?"
"Dreadnought-class," she replies. "It has a false identifying code, but I think--" The communication link falters. When Aurora's voice returns, it's laced with static. "Something's wrong, Peter. They're overriding my systems. I can't--"
"If it isn't Star-Lord," a new voice cuts in on Aurora's frequency.
Beneath his helmet, Peter grits his teeth. "Nebula."
The girl who grew up alongside Peter Quill laughs. "Thanks for rounding up our cargo for us, Quill. You saved us a lot of effort." The shipwreck trembles as turbolaser blasts open a hole in the ceiling above Peter's head. There, hovering ominously overhead, is Nebula's flagship, Sanctuary II. The turbolasers reposition themselves, and Peter can practically picture Nebula's hand on the control stick. "Now, stand aside, Earth boy, and let us collect our plunder."
Matt Murdock
Avenger
- Joined
- Jun 29, 2005
- Messages
- 19,072
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Fitting, really.
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
I'm crossing my fingers that I can get a Spider-Man post up before I go to bed tonight. I have half of it scribbled down on a notepad, just have to transfer it over to typing and, y'know, finish the rest. If I'm unsuccessful tonight, it'll definitely happen tomorrow night.
Morden Man
Civilian
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2014
- Messages
- 132
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 11
A notepad? You write using your actual hands in 2015? You freak!
Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
- Messages
- 25,054
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 56
Yeah, well, my laptop began to fail on me towards the end of last year. Like an aging relative, it was losing control of its faculties. So when I'd be traveling and a role-playing urge would strike, I'd only have a pencil and notebook on hand.
Similar threads
Users who are viewing this thread
Staff online
-
squeeknessI'm a poor lost puppy -
Hunter RiderRonin
Latest posts
-
-
-
Documentary/Biopic Sam Mendes directing 4 biopics on each member of The Beatles (5 Viewers)
- Latest: Pennywise
-
-
