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beatupgrass) wrote2014-11-20 12:30 pm
beatupgrass) wrote2014-11-20 12:30 pm
Denouement app
Player Information
Player name: Chris
Contact: KawaiiSpinel42 (AIM); quasigina (plurk)
Are you over 18: Yes.
Characters in the game already: N/A
Proof of Reserve: BAM
Character Information
Character Name: Subject 89P13 (Alias "Rocket")
Canon: Guardians of the Galaxy (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Canon Point: Post-Film
Is your character Dead, Undead or Alive: Alive.
History: Here
Personality:
Rocket began life as a laboratory experiment, one who was tortured extensively ("ripped apart and put back together over and over again," by his own words) to become what he is currently. As such, he's extremely sensitive about being seen as nothing more than a thing, because he "grew up" for lack of a better term believing that was all he was. Anyone attempting to belittle him by calling him a vermin or a rodent will incur his temper and he has a huge one. He won't take any insult lying down, even a vaguely perceived one, and will lash out violently if he thinks you've given him a reason to act aggressively, whether it's hitting one of his buttons or- god forbid- touching him. (Or touching his things- people, included.) Anyone who enjoys explosions and causing other people pain as much as he does isn't really the kind of person you want to be pissing off, anyway.
At this heart, Rocket wants desperately to be treated like a person and, as such, behaves in an aggressive, dominant manner to get people to take him seriously. It's not just his overblown theatrics with his unfeasibly large weapons or his big mouth, it's his attitude. For someone so burdened with anguish and self-doubt related to his own origins and where he stands because of it, Rocket exudes confidence. He knows he's smart, he knows he's talented, and he knows he's capable. When he threatens you, it isn't an act or a show- it's because he means it. And sure those words usually work better when there's a giant tree behind him ready and willing to smash some faces in at a word, but it doesn't change the fact that Rocket Gets Shit Done and he doesn't let anyone push him around. He's been to prison. He has no problems going back. And he has no problems getting out once he does go back.
He's a selfish brat, generally concerned with what he will get out of something or, otherwise, believing himself to be entitled to a thing if he wants it more. The universe hasn't done right by him, so he doesn't really feel that compelled to do right by the universe (some of this attitude has changed by the end of the film, but he's still an entitled little shit), which gives him all the reason to do whatever he pleases as his own personal brand of "payback" for the world being horrific to him. He even goes as far as picking on people with similar misfortunes to his own as his way of compensating for his own shortcomings- likely why he has such a grand obsession with stealing cybernetic parts.
The problem with being a lab-created experiment is the general existential why of it all. Rocket has deep-rooted issues that tend to only come out when he's drunk (or likely when he's triggered by something) and they all stem from the same horrific fear- he's a thing. He didn't ask to get made, he didn't ask to exist, and he probably doesn't even know why- if there was ever a reason- that happened to him. Regardless of what he does or how he acts, he's well aware he will never ever shake the stigma of being a freak and the only choice he has in the matter is how he takes the treatment (not well, as previously stated). That doesn't make it easier on him, of course. If anything, it leaves him with the constant, horrific burden of self-consciousness that he has to overcompensate for every day of his life. He's a monster and whatever niche he carves for himself won't change that.
Despite having them and feeling them strongly, Rocket has a better handle on most of his emotions than most would give him credit for. Sure, he's angry and volatile and will throw a temper tantrum at the slightest insult, but anger is useful for cultivating his aforementioned tough guy image. Impractical emotions like fear and sadness and god forbid love, he wastes no time on. He's emotionally selfish as well as physically- people exhibiting emotions that inconvenience or annoy him in any way are belittled or insulted, which may well be him overcompensating for his own feelings. He doesn't go around feeling his feelings and leading with anything other than his brain (and his temper) and getting other people killed or making himself look like a fool, so why would anyone else? That's just stupid. That said, moments of utter despair (and also alcohol) can push him to actual breakdowns and when he's pushed that far, he generally doesn't give a shit if the whole world sees him cry. He'll probably threaten you later if you ever bring it up again (or seconds after, he's feeling particularly spunky), but in the moment, he'll allow himself the weakness. It takes a lot to push him that far.
He's practical, not gifted with an overabundance of altruism or any real need to be heroic and of all the Guardians, he protests the hero thing the most, only giving in to Quill's plan, because he believes he won't live much longer anyway. Once in the field, however, he displays true compassion for the civilians of Xandar and grieves the causalities of the battle- he's especially shown to be affected by Denarian Saal's death. This (along with his relationship with Groot, which is one of the few scraps of proof we're given that he's not a total dick) proves that Rocket does have a lot of compassion in him when given a reason to be compassionate. He just hadn't had much of a reason to give the world a chance until Peter inspired it in him. As such, he's grown as a person to be slightly less selfish, but he still has a hard time going out of his way to do the hero thing, unless he has a damn good reason or Quill's around to point him in a direction.
Because Rocket keeps such a tight lid on his affectionate emotions, he tends to display them in ways that are more insulting and demeaning than actually loving- if you know him, then you probably know that he cares about you, because he's more "show" and "not tell" about things like that. It doesn't really change the fact that he will call you an idiot constantly and half the time when he says it, it means "you made me worry about you and I hate it" and the other half of the time, he just... thinks you're stupid. There's a hard line between Rocket being genuinely insulting and trying to cover up that a person made him feel things that can be tough to discern. He's an extremely difficult person to care about, which means when people do care about him, he tends to be possessive and protective of them in his own way, because these are his people. He might not tell you how much he cares about you, but you don't fuck with his family unless you want to get your face ripped off.
Items on your character at canon point:
(1) blue one-piece jumpsuit, seen here.
Abilities, Strengths and Weaknesses:
Abilities: Rocket has a cybernetic skeleton, which allows him to walk on his hindlegs with no problem and makes him stronger than the average raccoon. His joints are custom and apparently capable of shifting so he can run on all fours as easily as he walks on two legs. Being that his skeleton is likely made of some sort of alloy, he is extremely resilient against most blunt-force trauma.
He has an enhanced cerebral cortex, giving him a genius level IQ, and he is an expert marksman with various kinds of weaponry. He's also a skilled pilot.
As well as the above, he has the typical enhanced senses one would expect from a raccoon, including smell, darkvision, hearing, and tactile sensitivity.
Strengths: Mechanical genius. Can build weapons and bombs out of various scrap. Gifted at tactics and improvising plans on the fly. Expert marksman. Roughly as strong as an average human male, allowing him to lift and carry guns his size or slightly bigger. Escape artist extraordinaire.
Weaknesses: Temperamental. Extremely sensitive about anything regarding his nature or appearance and can't handle being thought of as a lesser being. Has PTSD related to being an experiment and thus will panic when faced with needles, doctors, or anything resembling a laboratory. Terrible gambler. Due to the metal and wiring in his body, it's HIGHLY LIKELY that electricity will fuck him up.
Samples
Network/Action Spam Sample: A typical network post
Prose Log Sample:
Must've walked.
It's the first thought in his head as he stares down the unfamiliar path, inviting with its brightly colored leaves and the gentle breeze. Normally, he wouldn't find such a thing inviting at all. He's an urban creature, more accustomed to the sprawl of big cities. But Groot would be all all over this and he's been particularly giving to the little sapling since his near-demise (or actual demise- Rocket's not sure how it works exactly and Groot's too young to tell him).
Where is Groot?
He frowns. He drifted off for a second. The smells in the air are intoxicating to his sensitive nose and it wouldn't be the first time Groot dragged him out into the wilderness and he took a nap curled up against his gun while Groot... did whatever the hell he did when there was arboreal life around him. Of course, right now, Groot's barely capable of leaving his pot and that sets him to worrying, more than the unfamiliar area or the whys and hows of him being here do. He lays a hand beside him, intending to pick up his gun and finds it's not there. Nothing but soft earth underneath his sensitive paws. He jolts to his feet, all serenity gone from him. Groot isn't here. His gun isn't here. Come to think of it... Where the fuck is the Milano?
Something tugs at him- a voice whispering in his ears. Every instinct says that this is very wrong, but his animal hindbrain overrides his logic (and his own fears) for once in his life, because that voice is just so reassuring.
I walked, he chides himself. The Milano's close by. I didn't bring my guns 'cause I've been jumpy and it's upsettin' the little twig.
He's supposed to be unwinding, taking the edge of the aftereffects of the Battle of Xandar that's still haunting his dreams weeks later. And Groot... Groot probably just ran ahead. D'asted brat, he thinks, chuckling to himself, unable to be truly annoyed (or even properly worried- why would anything threaten Groot in a place like this).
Best go find him.
It doesn't take him long to realize something has been fucking with his senses and that his perception has been severely compromised and when the soap bubble pops and he realizes that everything he thought was real was fake, he's left startled and backing up against the props, suddenly all too keenly aware of the implications. Groot's missing. The rest of his team is missing. And somehow even as much as that twists in his gut and leaves him worried, it's second to the agonizing fear that he just fucking walked back into the one thing he spent years trying to escape from.
They found him. They tricked him.
He can feel something behind him and he imagines its faceless scientists with syringes and rough hands, here to collect him and put him back on the table to have another go at ripping him apart and putting him back together. He snarls and hits the floor running as fast as he can, turning this way and that, dodging the walls that crop up in his path with the practiced ease of someone who has done this before in every nightmare he's ever had.
Wakeupwakeupwakeup. His thoughts fall into cadence with his running, a horrible rhythm set to the tempo of his fast-beating heart. Then at last, he can see the way out. A chittering laugh of triumph escapes his lips and he picks up speed and-
-hits the glass wall. Hard.
It rattles him for a moment and he swears he can hear his implants ringing from the force of the blow. After a second or two of recovery, that animal hindbrain he hates so much kicks back in and he slams fitfully into the glass again, running his paws over it as if he can feel a flaw or a give in the glass. There's nothing, however. Just the glass and the facility behind him and he knows, in that moment, that they have him.
He balls his hand into a fist and gives the glass one good slam before letting out an agonized howl of anguish that becomes progressively less human the more it goes on.
Player name: Chris
Contact: KawaiiSpinel42 (AIM); quasigina (plurk)
Are you over 18: Yes.
Characters in the game already: N/A
Proof of Reserve: BAM
Character Information
Character Name: Subject 89P13 (Alias "Rocket")
Canon: Guardians of the Galaxy (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Canon Point: Post-Film
Is your character Dead, Undead or Alive: Alive.
History: Here
Personality:
Rocket began life as a laboratory experiment, one who was tortured extensively ("ripped apart and put back together over and over again," by his own words) to become what he is currently. As such, he's extremely sensitive about being seen as nothing more than a thing, because he "grew up" for lack of a better term believing that was all he was. Anyone attempting to belittle him by calling him a vermin or a rodent will incur his temper and he has a huge one. He won't take any insult lying down, even a vaguely perceived one, and will lash out violently if he thinks you've given him a reason to act aggressively, whether it's hitting one of his buttons or- god forbid- touching him. (Or touching his things- people, included.) Anyone who enjoys explosions and causing other people pain as much as he does isn't really the kind of person you want to be pissing off, anyway.
At this heart, Rocket wants desperately to be treated like a person and, as such, behaves in an aggressive, dominant manner to get people to take him seriously. It's not just his overblown theatrics with his unfeasibly large weapons or his big mouth, it's his attitude. For someone so burdened with anguish and self-doubt related to his own origins and where he stands because of it, Rocket exudes confidence. He knows he's smart, he knows he's talented, and he knows he's capable. When he threatens you, it isn't an act or a show- it's because he means it. And sure those words usually work better when there's a giant tree behind him ready and willing to smash some faces in at a word, but it doesn't change the fact that Rocket Gets Shit Done and he doesn't let anyone push him around. He's been to prison. He has no problems going back. And he has no problems getting out once he does go back.
He's a selfish brat, generally concerned with what he will get out of something or, otherwise, believing himself to be entitled to a thing if he wants it more. The universe hasn't done right by him, so he doesn't really feel that compelled to do right by the universe (some of this attitude has changed by the end of the film, but he's still an entitled little shit), which gives him all the reason to do whatever he pleases as his own personal brand of "payback" for the world being horrific to him. He even goes as far as picking on people with similar misfortunes to his own as his way of compensating for his own shortcomings- likely why he has such a grand obsession with stealing cybernetic parts.
The problem with being a lab-created experiment is the general existential why of it all. Rocket has deep-rooted issues that tend to only come out when he's drunk (or likely when he's triggered by something) and they all stem from the same horrific fear- he's a thing. He didn't ask to get made, he didn't ask to exist, and he probably doesn't even know why- if there was ever a reason- that happened to him. Regardless of what he does or how he acts, he's well aware he will never ever shake the stigma of being a freak and the only choice he has in the matter is how he takes the treatment (not well, as previously stated). That doesn't make it easier on him, of course. If anything, it leaves him with the constant, horrific burden of self-consciousness that he has to overcompensate for every day of his life. He's a monster and whatever niche he carves for himself won't change that.
Despite having them and feeling them strongly, Rocket has a better handle on most of his emotions than most would give him credit for. Sure, he's angry and volatile and will throw a temper tantrum at the slightest insult, but anger is useful for cultivating his aforementioned tough guy image. Impractical emotions like fear and sadness and god forbid love, he wastes no time on. He's emotionally selfish as well as physically- people exhibiting emotions that inconvenience or annoy him in any way are belittled or insulted, which may well be him overcompensating for his own feelings. He doesn't go around feeling his feelings and leading with anything other than his brain (and his temper) and getting other people killed or making himself look like a fool, so why would anyone else? That's just stupid. That said, moments of utter despair (and also alcohol) can push him to actual breakdowns and when he's pushed that far, he generally doesn't give a shit if the whole world sees him cry. He'll probably threaten you later if you ever bring it up again (or seconds after, he's feeling particularly spunky), but in the moment, he'll allow himself the weakness. It takes a lot to push him that far.
He's practical, not gifted with an overabundance of altruism or any real need to be heroic and of all the Guardians, he protests the hero thing the most, only giving in to Quill's plan, because he believes he won't live much longer anyway. Once in the field, however, he displays true compassion for the civilians of Xandar and grieves the causalities of the battle- he's especially shown to be affected by Denarian Saal's death. This (along with his relationship with Groot, which is one of the few scraps of proof we're given that he's not a total dick) proves that Rocket does have a lot of compassion in him when given a reason to be compassionate. He just hadn't had much of a reason to give the world a chance until Peter inspired it in him. As such, he's grown as a person to be slightly less selfish, but he still has a hard time going out of his way to do the hero thing, unless he has a damn good reason or Quill's around to point him in a direction.
Because Rocket keeps such a tight lid on his affectionate emotions, he tends to display them in ways that are more insulting and demeaning than actually loving- if you know him, then you probably know that he cares about you, because he's more "show" and "not tell" about things like that. It doesn't really change the fact that he will call you an idiot constantly and half the time when he says it, it means "you made me worry about you and I hate it" and the other half of the time, he just... thinks you're stupid. There's a hard line between Rocket being genuinely insulting and trying to cover up that a person made him feel things that can be tough to discern. He's an extremely difficult person to care about, which means when people do care about him, he tends to be possessive and protective of them in his own way, because these are his people. He might not tell you how much he cares about you, but you don't fuck with his family unless you want to get your face ripped off.
Items on your character at canon point:
(1) blue one-piece jumpsuit, seen here.
Abilities, Strengths and Weaknesses:
Abilities: Rocket has a cybernetic skeleton, which allows him to walk on his hindlegs with no problem and makes him stronger than the average raccoon. His joints are custom and apparently capable of shifting so he can run on all fours as easily as he walks on two legs. Being that his skeleton is likely made of some sort of alloy, he is extremely resilient against most blunt-force trauma.
He has an enhanced cerebral cortex, giving him a genius level IQ, and he is an expert marksman with various kinds of weaponry. He's also a skilled pilot.
As well as the above, he has the typical enhanced senses one would expect from a raccoon, including smell, darkvision, hearing, and tactile sensitivity.
Strengths: Mechanical genius. Can build weapons and bombs out of various scrap. Gifted at tactics and improvising plans on the fly. Expert marksman. Roughly as strong as an average human male, allowing him to lift and carry guns his size or slightly bigger. Escape artist extraordinaire.
Weaknesses: Temperamental. Extremely sensitive about anything regarding his nature or appearance and can't handle being thought of as a lesser being. Has PTSD related to being an experiment and thus will panic when faced with needles, doctors, or anything resembling a laboratory. Terrible gambler. Due to the metal and wiring in his body, it's HIGHLY LIKELY that electricity will fuck him up.
Samples
Network/Action Spam Sample: A typical network post
Prose Log Sample:
Must've walked.
It's the first thought in his head as he stares down the unfamiliar path, inviting with its brightly colored leaves and the gentle breeze. Normally, he wouldn't find such a thing inviting at all. He's an urban creature, more accustomed to the sprawl of big cities. But Groot would be all all over this and he's been particularly giving to the little sapling since his near-demise (or actual demise- Rocket's not sure how it works exactly and Groot's too young to tell him).
Where is Groot?
He frowns. He drifted off for a second. The smells in the air are intoxicating to his sensitive nose and it wouldn't be the first time Groot dragged him out into the wilderness and he took a nap curled up against his gun while Groot... did whatever the hell he did when there was arboreal life around him. Of course, right now, Groot's barely capable of leaving his pot and that sets him to worrying, more than the unfamiliar area or the whys and hows of him being here do. He lays a hand beside him, intending to pick up his gun and finds it's not there. Nothing but soft earth underneath his sensitive paws. He jolts to his feet, all serenity gone from him. Groot isn't here. His gun isn't here. Come to think of it... Where the fuck is the Milano?
Something tugs at him- a voice whispering in his ears. Every instinct says that this is very wrong, but his animal hindbrain overrides his logic (and his own fears) for once in his life, because that voice is just so reassuring.
I walked, he chides himself. The Milano's close by. I didn't bring my guns 'cause I've been jumpy and it's upsettin' the little twig.
He's supposed to be unwinding, taking the edge of the aftereffects of the Battle of Xandar that's still haunting his dreams weeks later. And Groot... Groot probably just ran ahead. D'asted brat, he thinks, chuckling to himself, unable to be truly annoyed (or even properly worried- why would anything threaten Groot in a place like this).
Best go find him.
It doesn't take him long to realize something has been fucking with his senses and that his perception has been severely compromised and when the soap bubble pops and he realizes that everything he thought was real was fake, he's left startled and backing up against the props, suddenly all too keenly aware of the implications. Groot's missing. The rest of his team is missing. And somehow even as much as that twists in his gut and leaves him worried, it's second to the agonizing fear that he just fucking walked back into the one thing he spent years trying to escape from.
They found him. They tricked him.
He can feel something behind him and he imagines its faceless scientists with syringes and rough hands, here to collect him and put him back on the table to have another go at ripping him apart and putting him back together. He snarls and hits the floor running as fast as he can, turning this way and that, dodging the walls that crop up in his path with the practiced ease of someone who has done this before in every nightmare he's ever had.
Wakeupwakeupwakeup. His thoughts fall into cadence with his running, a horrible rhythm set to the tempo of his fast-beating heart. Then at last, he can see the way out. A chittering laugh of triumph escapes his lips and he picks up speed and-
-hits the glass wall. Hard.
It rattles him for a moment and he swears he can hear his implants ringing from the force of the blow. After a second or two of recovery, that animal hindbrain he hates so much kicks back in and he slams fitfully into the glass again, running his paws over it as if he can feel a flaw or a give in the glass. There's nothing, however. Just the glass and the facility behind him and he knows, in that moment, that they have him.
He balls his hand into a fist and gives the glass one good slam before letting out an agonized howl of anguish that becomes progressively less human the more it goes on.