Strain

Recommended Videos

TheSentinel

New member
May 10, 2008
1,803
0
0
Name: Tim "the Honkey"

Age: 27

Appearance: Tim is one of the honkiest honkeys who ever honked. White as the driven snow doesn't begin to describe him. Picture the whitest person you have ever seen. Now turn up the contrast. Like that. He is essentially an albino, but without the white hair (his hair is brown) or pink eyes. Clothing wise, he just wears normal clothing. A button down shirt with nice pants is about as formal as he gets, which is good, because it is what he usually wears (he gets a discount at the Nice Pants© store, so he doesn't worry about getting them dirty.) He is most easily recognized when he is walking, due to his distinctive limp he has due to an injury he sustained while he was in high school, which caused him to walk with a cane.

Power: Aside from his blinding whiteness, Tim's main power is his ability to become invisible at will. Because, really, what can blend into nothingness better than an age-17-30-something white guy? Unfortunately, since it doesn't affect his clothing, his powers only work well when he is nude. Also, while it isn't exactly a power, he can whack dudes with his cane pretty well. However, again, his invisibility doesn't work on his cane, but he can for hobble a bit without it, so it isn't that much of a problem.

Short biography: A lifelong resident of Urbis, Tim's power manifested itself rather early in his life. However, since he was just a stupid child when it first came up, he didn't really know what to do with it. He has been able to more or less control it, that is, he can use and disable it at will, so he has kept it mostly a secret over the years (he's only shown it to like, three people, and that was just to impress women). As mentioned in the Appearence section, there was a bit of an accident during high school, causing partial paralysis in his left leg, and has since walked with a cane and a distinctive limp.

I hope this is okay.
 

Broken Orange

God Among Men
Apr 14, 2009
2,367
0
0
If it isn't obvious, I won't be writing up a sheet. Wish you the best of luck...[sub]whenever you do start[/sub]
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
0
0
Yorgmiester said:
Did you make that for me?

@the rest of you: well, since I'm being nagged, I'll get this thing moving. Of the people who have submitted, I'll select those I deem suitable, then get up the opening...
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
0
0
Aqua, Yorg, Nukey, Sam G, Zemalac, Quad, Crayzor, Clown, Xero, NeoAC and CaptainHook are in. To the others, sorry, better luck next time...

OP's comin' soon 9though maybe not tonight...
 

Sam G

New member
Jul 14, 2009
2,580
0
0
ThreeWords said:
Aqua, Yorg, Nukey, Sam G, Zemalac, Quad, Crayzor, ClownXero, NeoAC and CaptainHook are in. To the others, sorry, better luck next time...

OP's comin' soon 9though maybe not tonight...
Uh... "ClownXero"? Is that an amalgamation of The Clown's and Xero Scythe's names, or an affectionate nickname you've whipped up for Xerox?

Oh, and, uh... EFF YEAH! This is the happiest day of my life! Words, you're amazing! I'll not let you down, sir! WOOHAH!
 

The Clown

Don't bother running
Jun 29, 2009
2,933
0
0
i reckon he just left out a comma, and does this remind anyone of getting picked for a football team?
 

Zemalac

New member
Apr 22, 2008
1,253
0
0
The Clown said:
i reckon he just left out a comma, and does this remind anyone of getting picked for a football team?
Wait, you mean this isn't a football team?

I HAVE BEEN DECEIVED!
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
0
0
Zemalac said:
The Clown said:
i reckon he just left out a comma, and does this remind anyone of getting picked for a football team?
Wait, you mean this isn't a football team?

I HAVE BEEN DECEIVED!
Fear not sir; this is super powered roleplay football =D
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
0
0
Sam G said:
Uh... "ClownXero"? Is that an amalgamation of The Clown's and Xero Scythe's names, or an affectionate nickname you've whipped up for Xerox?
<..>

*eidts*
 

NeoAC

Zombie Nation #LetsRise
Jun 9, 2008
8,574
0
0
Irony loves me. The same way a kid loves a hamster. Anyway on a lighter note, woo! In!
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
0
0
The free city of Urbis. A city of radicals and misfits, for the most part. The state is lenient, and the law relaxed; those who fit in badly arrive form across America, heading for the welcoming aura of acceptance. And so the city, an anomaly itself amongst swathes of farmlands, has grown, sprawling outwards to accommodate such a swell of people seeking to belong.

And so too came the supers; fleeing harsher towns where suspicion was high, or indeed the state actively hunted them out, they flock to Urbis, where the Company is barely present and everyone can feel safe. For now.

Your character may have lived in Urbis for some time, or just arrived. Either way, today seems pretty normal. Go about your business, and feel free to run into each other, or create a little drama.
 

Quad08

New member
Oct 18, 2009
5,000
0
0
He had never really considered himself a man of faith. Usually a man of logic and clear thinking, Nathan Andrews was willing to try anything now that logic obviously hadn't been doing a damn thing for him lately. So as he sat there, in the front row of St. Mary's Church and listen to the preacher read his sermon.

Nathan hoped that this place of worship would fill his void, give him meaning, give him answers as to why his wife had been so violently been taken from him. Looking behind the preacher to the large, gold painted wooden cross, Nathan felt a nervous twinge in his stomach. Could this be the end of his journey? Only time would tell. And with that thought, his eyes drifted back over to the preacher.

The preacher looked over the crowd slowly, smiling at all his 'children' and Nathan smiled back. He doubted he stood out in the crowd of people. He wore black Sunday shoes, black dress pants and a nice white shirt that wasn't too formal. His black aviator sunglasses where in his grey trench coat pocket that lay wrapped neatly up beside him, his broken watch and white gold wedding ring the only jewellery on him. Physically, he looked like any other well built male member of the church, with his broad shoulders and trim chest. His eyes a deep brown that matched his short brown hair, helped make him look like the average guy but the scar on his chin may suggest an accident or surgery of some kind.

He applauded silently along with the rest of the congregation as the Pastor finished his sermon and before a final "God Bless You" signalled the end of the service. With that a wave of people rushing to get out of church and on with their outside lives began. Kids pulling on their parent's legs, men and women alike pulling out cell phones to check missed messages and making important calls.

Nathan had no outside life, so he sat quietly and waited for the Pastor to step down from his podium so he could intercept him. Once it looked like a majority of the people had left, the Pastor did step down and Nathan was there waiting for him, holding out his hand

"Hello there Pastor Martin. My name is Nathan Andrews, I'm new here"

He spoke softly and smoothly, that kind smile still on his face with a handshake that was firm, but not tight

"Welcome Mr, Andrews, it is a pleasure to have you join our family"

Pastor Martin smiled back, more of a tight lipped smile than a truly open one.

"Oh, I'm not sure if I wish to join yet"

Nathan responded with a light chuckle

"I'd like to learn more of the...family I'm going to join before I make an investment. That is, if you have the time?"

Pastor Martin nodded, his smile becoming a bit more relaxed

"Of course Mr Andrews, please this way..."

Nathan followed the priest into a side door at the edge of the podium. Entering it, Nathan discovered that it was a small side office, filled with files, and papers.

Brushing a few of the papers off the desk, Pastor Martin motioned for Nathan to sit down.

"Now my son, what do you want to talk about?"

Nathan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing eerily

"How about the truth?"

The Pastor blinked, obviously confused by the question

"I'm sorry, I do-"

He stopped speaking suddenly sitting much straighter and his eyes slowly glazed over. His mouth stretched into a firm line, and when he spoke it was in a much more direct tone

"What do you want to know?"

Nathan smiled, his Spirit String from his index finger flowing into the Pastor

"Tell me, what are your sins?"

The Pastor began to speak, telling Nathan everything. The way he cheated on his wife, and how he killed her when she found out, and then abandoned his mistress when she became pregnant. His real name was Bob Frank, and he had joined the church to hide from the cops and not to spread the word.

After hearing all this, Nathan sighed saldly to himself. He had suspected something like this would crop up again. Getting up from his seat, he took out a .44 Magnum revolver and placed it on the desk.

"You will take this gun and open fire in the lobby, aiming above the heads of the people. You will fire until you have one bullet left, then shoot yourself. You will do all this in five minutes from now. Understand?"

The Pastor nodded.

Putting on his trench coat and sunglasses, Nathan made his way out of the office and into the Church lobby. It was still fairly crowded, with plenty of people awaiting the next service.

As he walked out and towards his car, shoots began to be heard inside the Church and people began to spill out of the Church, screaming and calling for help.

Whistling happily to himself, Nathan opened the door to his blue Toyota and drove away. He hadn't found what he was looking for, but he had made the world a little bit cleaner.

A slightly remixed version of a past opening post of mine. Lazy, I know, but I wanted to make a post while I could, as this is probably the only time I'll be online within the next couple days...
 

Xero Scythe

New member
Aug 7, 2009
3,463
0
0
Damien dropped the last man he had been holding by the head. Around him were moaning piles of bounty hunters. As the last of the original Supers, the Company was offering huge amounts of money for him, dead or alive. He sighed as he picked up a bottle of spraypaint. He shook it while thinking, "can't let them know what city I'm in- not yet. I'm not as well situated as I was... before. Killers or the Mutts... I think the Mutts will do. They certainly have
enough people to think they can take on the Company.
" Damien began to spray, perfectly forging the gang sign of the Mutts, the largest gang in Urbis. Damien hated gangs. "Now, with any luck, the Company will think there are a few mutants there and wipe 'em out." He took out a lighter. This should be enough." He grinned evilly. He put a few minor burns on one or two of the members that were waking up. He sent them back to Nod with quick blows to the back of the neck. Most of them had blunt trauma, and that was easily arranged- a lead pipe, ripped out of a condemned building, dropped near the scene.

Damien walked away from the scene. He sighed as he looked around. So may wanted posters. Once he saw Company members patrolling the streets, he was giving up on Urbis and moving somewhere else. A blue truck nearly ran him over as he was crossing the street. He grinned at the driver, an all knowing smile as he continued across and into a nearby alley. Damien saw another poster with his face on it and wondered exactly how much he was worth to these people if they were willing to spend so much looking for him.
 

Zemalac

New member
Apr 22, 2008
1,253
0
0
"I don't believe in UFOs and little men from Mars,
I don't believe in magic lamps bought at junk bazaars,
I don't believe the world will ever be without a war,
I don't believe a lot of things,
But I've been wrong before!"


The disc skipped a beat as the car hit a bump. Christian grimaced and promised himself, as he always did, that he'd use some of the money from this job to replace this piece of shit stereo.

"I don't believe the souls of man can haunt you after life,
I don't believe the world hangs on the edge of a knife,
I don't believe we should stop thinking for an oath we swore,
I don't believe a lot of things,
But I've been wrong before!"


Goddamn city drivers, thinking they owned the streets. New York to London to Urbis, they were all the same, leaning on the horns and the gas in equal measure. They grated on his nerves like steel rasps. Why were so many jobs like this in the city? Did people think it was easier to hide among the multitudes? Man, this guy, he can track you anywhere. Being in the city just means there's people around for him to ask about you, there's subway tickets and security cameras and contacts. There are records and files and networks, and he can get those records and files and tap into those networks. He does it now without even thinking about it, making a few calls and idly scanning the police radio as he drives into town.

No, this is my lane, asshole.

"People tell me their crazy yarns,
Like ghosts and gods and ESP and UFOs in barns.
Half this crap has turned out true,
If you close your mind at this point
The only fool is you."


A police cruiser passed him by without a thought. He always tensed up a little when they did that. He worked for the justice system, same as they, but there was always a little undercurrent of tension between him and the police, no matter where he was.

And the license for the handgun in his glove compartment was forged, that too. Let's not let them find out about that.

"I don't believe a God above invented all that's good,
I don't believe that there's a need to rush from childhood,
I don't believe the world began with a lion's roar,
I don't believe a lot of things,
But I've been wrong before!"


He was here looking for someone, of course. He was always here looking for someone, every time he came to a new city. He barely had a home these days, a fact of which he was acutely aware. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to pay the rent on his apartment, he was there so little. But it was a place to call home, and a place to store his stuff, and (most importantly) a place where people knew him as Christian, not Mr. Factor the superpowered bounty-hunter.

That last one was important to him.

"People tell me their crazy yarns,
Like ghosts and gods and ESP and UFOs in barns.
Half this crap has turned out true,
If you close your mind at this point
The only fool is you."


He had a few things to take care of while he was here. The first was an ordinary bounty, no trouble, a mugger who'd skipped bail and was wanted back by the judge. That one was money in his pocket already. The others, though...the others might be trouble. For the first bounty, the mugger, he might as well have already completed the job.

"I don't believe it's always kind to say the nicest thing,
I don't believe a sugar lie is awe-inspiring.
I don't believe in posing kind and sneaking out the door,
I don't believe a lot of things,
But I've been wrong before!"


For the second bounty, all he had was a name.

Damien Lier.
 

Sam G

New member
Jul 14, 2009
2,580
0
0
Dyme Allesandros woke up.
He was lying on a bench in a park somewhere in Ubris, his blue shirt draped over him like a blanket, and the sun was shining overhead, informing him that it was time to get up. Compliantly, Dyme rose and stretched, before pulling his shirt on over his lighter tee and hopping off the bench. Dyme had slept well; nights in Ubris were warm, and Dyme wasn't the sort to allow location to rob him of a good night's sleep anyway. Contemplating the events of the two weeks since he'd arrived, Dyme realized that it had been almost a fortnight since he'd slept in a bed; in the beginning, he'd managed to support himself well enough with the money he'd had, but an unfortunate mugging by a man with knives for hands had left him with nothing but the clothes on his back, and nowadays he was lucky if he could make enough by performing in the street to get in two meals a day.
Ubris wasn't quite as he'd imagined it; the high-octane super-battles he'd come expecting were in short supply, and aside from that one mugging incident he'd yet to come across another Super- wait, no, you weren't supposed to call them that, were you? That man on the radio had been saying that "the term "Supers" makes them sound fantastic, and they aren't fantastic, they're evil, just like the damn gays, blah blah blah," and then Dyme had zoned out, and started scribbling song lyrics on his hand, only it wasn't his hand, it was the tablecloth, and then the waitress had started calling him names...

Dyme snapped back to reality when he realized just how hungry he was. When was the last time he'd eaten? Was it that half-eaten sandwich he'd found on the ground the other day? No, alright; when was the last time he'd eaten actual food? Too long, he decided; welp, remeniscing wouldn't fill Dyme's stomach. Wandering to a more densely-populated area of the park, Dyme checked that no-one was looking, then summoned his guitar to hand and started to play. He was talented - unnaturally so, though none of his onlookers thought of that - and steadily, coins started piling up at his feet.