Entry tags:

TLV - Character Applications (OLD FORM)

CHARACTER APPLICATIONS
Applications are CLOSED until 12:01 p.m., January 1, 2011.
[0 out of 20] total app slots filled.

Application Periods are held for the first full week of every month.

ETA 2/1/11: Please note that the guidelines for applications have been revised; we now expect at least five solid paragraphs for the personality section of applications. The application form has been revised to reflect this. Also, as of February 2011, we will only allow THREE APPLICATIONS PER FANDOM IN ONE APP CYCLE. This means that if one fandom receives three applications during application week, any additional applications for that fandom will not be accepted and will need to wait until the following application cycle.

Please read all rules and guidelines before submitting an application. Be sure to check the Taken Characters List and the Retired Characters List before posting an application here.

NOTES:

We are no longer accepting apps for fandoms that are less than a month old. If you're unsure about something-- such as an episodic fandom-- please ask the mods for clarification.
Trade-In Apps: Current players have the option of trading in a current character for a new one. Trade-In Apps will NOT count against the App Slots, so even if all slots are full, you can still trade-in for a new character. However, bear in mind that trade-in apps are not guaranteed approval for your character. If your trade-in application is rejected, you don't have to drop the character you were willing to trade in.
In the interest of keeping a balanced and diverse cast list, we are presently not accepting applications from the following fandoms, due to a high volume of characters present in the game already. This list is subject to change, so please don't think it means you can never apply for a character in these fandoms!
No fandoms are capped at present.
Applications for members of all other large casts are accepted on a case by case basis.
New characters will not be accepted unless your existing ones are reliably meeting the activity requirements. This also applies if you have just come off hiatus; you need to demonstrate for two weeks that you are suitably active with existing characters before apping a new one or it will be rejected without reading it.
As of February 2011, we will only allow THREE APPLICATIONS PER FANDOM IN ONE APP CYCLE. This means that if one fandom receives three applications during application week, any additional applications for that fandom will not be accepted and will need to wait until the following application cycle.

APPLICATION FORM

User Name/Nick:
User LJ:
AIM/IM:
E-mail:
Other Characters:

Character Name:
Series:
Age: [This is important; it doesn't seem likely that a 12 year old would be a warden, for instance.]
From When?: [At what point in their timeline were they brought aboard the Barge? Inmates must have just died or were about to die.]

Inmate/Warden: [Choose one and say why they're this way. Wardens--Why does the Admiral think your character would be useful as a warden here? What do they bring to the table? Regardless of their good/evil/neutral motiviations, do they have the capacity to help an inmate achieve graduation? Inmates--What does your character still need to change about themselves? How can working with a warden on the Barge help them?]
Item: [Wardens Only -- What Gives you Your Information While Here? Examples -- a compass, a book, a palm pilot, a tarot card, etc.]

Abilities/Powers: [Remember that Inmates will have reduced powers]

Personality: [Please write at least 5 solid paragraphs. The more depth and detail, the better! Keep in mind that other players will use this section to determine if your character is a good match for potential Warden/Inmate pairings, and this may be their first exposure to your character. You might also include how they are going to react to the Barge. Please write this in complete sentences, and in paragraphs as you would in any normal area of the application. Do not divide into sections and label each with adjectives. This makes it seem choppy and harder to read.]

Path to Redemption: [(INMATES ONLY) Please outline possible ways a Warden can get through to them, possible triggers, methods, motives for them to change. This section can serve to give Warden players some idea of which route to take in working with your Inmate. While we don't expect every Inmate to become redeemed, they have to AT LEAST have potential for it. Irredeemable Inmates are not acceptable.]

History:

Sample Journal Entry: [5-10 sentences, 1st Person POV]
Sample RP: [3-5 paragraphs, 3rd Person POV]

Special Notes:

Last Updated: 5/10/11

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

User Name/Nick: Rei
User LJ:

magdaleina
AIM/IM: AIM - SchmooeyFoo
E-mail: weirdophreak17@yahoo.com

Character Name: Captain Morgan Adams
Series: Cutthroat Island
Age: 31
From When?: Post-Film, pre-PotC referencing.

Inmate/Warden: Warden -- In Morgan's long life as a leader she has always felt she's contributed the most when she's had people to give something to. She wants to do good, and to help.
Item: A Compass
How Long Have You Been Here?: Morgan has been aboard the barge for the length of, by her reckoning, a year. She has already Wardened two Inmates who have since gone on.

Abilities/Powers: -able rider, swordsman, swimmer, and gunner
-has rudimentary knowledge the keeping and running of a full ship and crew
-can read English, but also has a decent understanding of maps and charts
Personality: Morgan is nothing if not determined. When she wants something, it is simply only a matter of time before she gets it. Brave and impetuous, she often will undertake difficult tasks without either taking into consideration that she may be placing herself in danger or really caring. She has little fear of pain, and she keeps a cool head in a conflict. Being accustomed to getting into trouble, she has a tendancy to plan for the worst to happen, and contingencies will fall into place to bolster her safe escape.

History: Daughter of Black Harry Adams, Captain of the Morningstar, Morgan has always been quite familiar with a mariner's way of life. When she was still very young, her mother took ill and eventually passed away; her father chose to bring her aboard and look after her himself rather than find someone on land to see to her care. He simply could not trust anyone else to do it with her mother gone. Much of her childhood and adolescence was spent under the watchful eye of Glasspoole, a sailor aboard Harry's ship whose eventual sole purpose would be to keep an eye on Morgan and protect her. She served in her younger years as her father's 'servant' (since she could hardly be called a cabin boy) until she was big enough to work ondeck, when that occupation was conferred to a new member of the crew, a boy by name of Bowen. By that age, she was also large and able enough to go seeking her own mischief. It seemed that every port they stopped in, she was up to some sort of trouble -- whether stealing or picking fights (their story, not hers), and it seemed by cunning and providence alone that she made it back to her father's ship safely each time, Glasspoole and Bowen always seeming to follow just a few paces behind her. By the time she'd reached full adulthood, there were as many bounties for her arrest as there were for her father, the most notable being a hefty sum offered by the governor of Port Royale.

After leaving the ship for a little time to herself, Morgan received an urgent summons from Black Harry to return. She finished what pressing business she had as swiftly as she was able, not realizing that her delay meant he would try to come looking for her himself, leading to the capture and boarding of his ship by one of her uncles, Captain Douglas 'Dawg' Brown, seeking one of three pieces to a treasure map that he happened to possess (unbeknownst to Dawg, it was tattooed on the man's scalp). The map would lead to a remote island known as Cutthroat, where an ancestor had hidden a vast and enormous treasure, concealing its location and splitting the map in three pieces -- one was left to the three elder of his four grandsons.

After escaping Dawg with a mortal wound, Harry told Morgan to shave his head, take the map piece, and go seeking her uncle Mordachai for the second piece (the third, Dawg possessed). He also left the Morningstar to her, despite the controversy this would start with his crew for bypassing laws of rank. Her mission: find or steal the other pieces of the map, and get to the treasure before Dawg. Though some friends encouraged her to leave the ship and do as she pleased, she chose instead to take responsibility for an unhappy crew, months from their last good plunder, and go seeking her father's final wish. This required first securing a person who could read the latin inscriptions on the map pieces, and they stopped in to Port Royale to look into the slave trade (it was common practice at this time for all ruffians of various sorts who were not sentenced to death be sold into slavery instead -- this included pirates and other scoundrels).

Here, she purchased a con-artist by name of William Shaw, who had been recently jailed for dressing above his station, sneaking into the Governor's home during a gala and stealing from several of the women there, whom he had charmed with much finesse. Proving he could read latin, and claiming to be a Doctor, Morgan bought him (while incognito), then escaped with him back to the Morningstar. They journeyed then to find her uncle, Captain Mordachai Fingers, in Spittlefield Harbor of Jamaica.

Though their meeting was interrupted by Dawg, Mordachai killed, Morgan and her crew managed to escape (though not without being wounded, herself), and she came to discover that Shaw had managed to steal Mordachai's map piece. They came to discover that Shaw was not, in fact, a doctor, and had been intending to steal their piece of the map for himself, along with the one he was hiding on his person, so he was thrown in the brig. Even without his help, Morgan was able to divine the location of Cutthroat Island, but as the route took them into a great storm, much of the crew (including Tom Scully, the man who would have been captain were it not for her) mutinied and set her and the remaining loyals adrift. Shaw escaped, and followed them. After the storm passed, and daylight broke, they found themselves within swimming distance of the island.

They were followed, as Dawg had made a deal with Scully to see to it the two mutually benefitted from the capture of the final map pieces. When they came to the island, Shaw stole Dawg's map piece and when reunited with Morgan was able to redeem himself for his trickery by giving them the final key to discovering the treasure. They discovered it too late, however, and were forced to take to the water to avoid capture. Dawg made off with the treasure, and Morgan and Shaw were separated. Shaw was taken aboard Dawg's ship, and Morgan had to reunite with her own crew and reclaim the Morningstar. That achieved, the two ships engaged in a harrowing battle, finally ending only when Morgan (sustaining many injuries) managed to kill Dawg (by firing a canon at him nearly point-blank), and she and Shaw escaped his ship with the treasure in tow.

Departing from there, with her now emboldened crew, for Madagascar, Morgan would eventually go on to become one of the most imfamous pirates of her time, known to eventually be one of the two Captains to pen the Pirate Code for which the first Brethren Court would fly their banners under.

Sample Journal Entry: Captain's Log -

It has been a full week since my last assignment ended, and I have received no new word from the Admiral regarding a new assignment. New passengers came aboard today, and I'm already antsy. It was a full month before I was tied to a new Inmate, and I remember how eager I was back then. Now, I'm hoping my next did not come in with this batch. I'm enjoying the quiet far too much.

There are only so many times a person can endure a place like that ash-infested cesspool, and once should have been enough. That one always gets them, always turns them, and with what it is, it's really no wonder. I just wish we didn't have to expose them to places like that to get them to open their eyes. You have to dangle a person over the fires of Hell before they'll ever learn.

It's wrong.

Sample RP: Morgan pulled her gloves tighter over her fingers as she emerged ondeck. It was dim -- always was. Rather than a full night sky, the outside of the Barge seemed constantly trapped in a moment of twilight, where blue swirled into the black, and just the faintest snatches of pink and dying sunlight could only be caught out of the corner of one's eye, but never there when one turned to look. Once, the sight of the stars all above and below her had filled her with wonder and dread, to look overboard and see not true waters but only the shade of them, more like whisps of smoke, where spirits and glimpses of happier and sadder and grimmer worlds passed them. Now, she relished a moment where she could come up top, breathe in the strange, scentless air, and gaze at all the worlds passing them by, below them rather than in the distance and on the horizon.

She had to admit that she missed the smell of salt, but at least she still had the wind. It blew her wild, curling hair back out of her face, and for just a moment, if she squinted, if she shut out the phantoms below and just let the tiniest pinpricks of the stars enter into her vision -- then it almost felt like the Morningstar. She could almost feel the brush of King Charles' tail about her neck, or Shaw's arms slipping around her waist from behind as he snuck up -- just like she'd always told him not to.

The Barge had been quiet lately. It'd been like this the first time she'd been there to stop in Silent Hill, too. Afterward, so many of the Inmates moved on, and many Wardens tended to follow, feeling far too unfond of those Ports that failed to differentiate between the ones the Admiral employed and the ones he found Guilty. She'd survived two, and there were few that could say the same. Most of them were lifers -- Wardens who'd been around for years because they wanted to stay there; some had even been Inmates before.

Special Notes: I like pie.

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Now that you're a member, here's a few things you should do!
1. Create your Character Journal and comment here!
2. Join and Watch lastvoyages, lastvoyagesooc, and lastvoyageslogs.
3. Post in the taken characters list here (http://bargemods.livejournal.com/1079.html).
4. Post in the Cabin List here (http://bargemods.livejournal.com/1886.html).
5. Post in the OOC Community, introducing yourself.
6. Apply for a Warden or Inmate to be grouped with here (http://bargemods.livejournal.com/2432.html).

Thank you, self! *salute*

User Name/Nick: Shoshana
User LJ:

maureen_cohen
AIM/IM: AIM: Mrs Liz Sparrow
MSN: pirate_read@hotmail.com
E-mail: pirate_read@hotmail.com

Character Name: Vesper Lynd
Series: James Bond (Casino Royale/Film version)
Age: 27
From When?: Post-Casino Royale
Inmate/Warden: Warden, to repent for the lies and deceit
Item: A while mobile phone, Sony Ericsson M600i
How long have you been here? Long enough to understand the ins and outs of this place

Abilities/Powers:
-Determination - if her mind is set to it, she can do it.
-Quick-thinking - Able to work under stress and think on her feet
-Smarts - is bilingual (French and English), university graduate
Personality: Vesper is smart and calculating, she comes off as cold and sometimes controlling, but it is to hide her insecurities. She has always come off as a forceful person, working harder and more aggressively than others because she thinks that people will not take her seriously as a woman. She tends to come off as very abrupt or harsh, giving her almost an air of mystery.

She describes herself as a 'complicated woman', but is really no different than most women, especially when in love. She is easily used to gain things an enemy way want of her when it involves those she cares deeply about. Even though she can be used in such a manner doesn't mean that she has given you her trust. She is wary of those she doesn't know, unless she is encouraged of their trust.

Vesper can prove to be a skeptic and watch things very closely, although she has a somewhat fragile view on violence, she doesn't particularly like seeing it or being involved in it. It bothers her deeply. She adjusts to new situations quickly and thinks on her feet. It has come in use in the past, when Bond was poisoned and she rushed to his aid after he didn't return, it was her arrival and quick thinking that saved his life.

History:
Vesper Lynd was born in Surrey, England in 1981. She came from a fairly well off family. When Vesper was eight her parents died in a car accident, forcing young Vesper to live with her grandparents. She was a loner for a few years until her teen years. She became active in school, taking a particular interest in languages and mathematics. She worked hard, showing her grandparents that she was able to jump straight into university, instead of a two-year college to start off.

She was accepted into the University of Greenwich, much to her delight. There she proved to be a hard-working student, not interested in activities as much as getting her work done, still she had a fairly active social life and a tight-knit group of friends. She met her first serious boyfriend at the age of twenty-three while finishing her degree. He was half-French and Half-Algerian as he came to England to study. The relationship lasted and persisted and he told her of plans of marriage, giving her a necklace as a promise ring of a sort as they went into the real world, with Vesper as a young accountant.

Things turned ugly when a deal made between her boyfriend and an organisation went wrong. They took him as a hostage, torturing him and in his pain, he revealed the young British girl he loved and her profession. They hoped to use her position to extort money in return for his safety, thus placing her opportunely as the liaison from the Treasury to the MI6 in an operation to bankrupt terrorists.

Vesper never counted on things to happen as they did. At first she was appalled by Bond's ego and worked with him unhappily. She warmed up to him slightly after he comforted her after a brutal fight, where she believed a man's death was on her hands. After the poker tournament, Le Chiffre (having just lost), kidnapped both Bond and Vesper and tortured both, in which, Vesper agreed to give them money and information in return for her boyfriend's and Bond's safety. The head of the organisation, Mr White, put an end to the torture and let them go. She didn't leave Bond's side through much of the time he was hospitalised, their mutual dislike becoming a blossoming romance.

They looked to start a new life together, Bond leaving the MI6 to be with Vesper. While on holiday in Venice, the money was handed over to Mr White, but the men locked Vesper in an elevator. As the building started to crumble, she resigned herself to death, knowing that she had wronged her new love. Despite his attempts to save her, Vesper was gone.

Sample Journal Entry:
I can’t live like this anymore. The deceit is far too much. What deceit? I love him, that isn’t deceit. I don’t have a ‘tell’…but I am able to lie to him so easily. It’s for his safety, his own good. I don’t want him to end up dead. He can’t, that’s why I have to do this. I love him too much. Is that wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him, but I have. James treats me like a goddess, taking me to Venice and being my strength. Maybe he’ll never have to know what I’m doing and when it’s done…it’s done and we can be happy….

Sample RP:
Where is he going? Vesper though uneasily, red painted lips parted and blue eyes following the blond man out of the room.

Bond shouldn't have left the game, he was still doing very well, but there was something wrong...something off about the way he looked. His expression told her of pain and unease and she saw him grab two items off of the table, but she didn't see what. Her eyes turned to Mathis at her side, who looked just as worried as she did.

Silently she left the casino without making a scene, heading for their suite. She hoped that he went there and not somewhere else. She moved as quickly as she could, her legs feeling like jelly under her weight. It felt as though the elevator was making her wait purposely, just to mock her. Causing her to hiss, ‘Come on, come on’ under her breath and resist crossing her arms across her chest. Panicking would do her no good in this situation, nor did looking as if she was fretting something. She was supposed to look lovely and not lead to suspicion as she was doing at the moment.

As the elevator came, she walked in briskly and pushed the button to the third floor and waited, cursing herself for knowing that every moment she wasted, Bond could be that much closer to death. Of course, his death wouldn’t be her fault, but it would be on her conscious that she could have done something and didn’t. It was the ding of the elevator arriving to the third floor that forced her brain to come-to and her body to work in automatic to the room as if she had walked this route a hundred times. Only disappointment came when she entered the room and Bond was not there.

Special Notes: Ummmmm….errrr….no?
Oh yeah, finals week is this week and next week…hopefully it won’t drag me away from my laptop too long.

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Whee, Vesper's journal!

User Name/Nick: Ros
User LJ:

pyroslut
AIM/IM: pyrocornflakes
E-mail: rosloops at gmail dot com
Other Characters: NOBODY

Character Name: Master, The Master, Master of all things, Your Master, etcetera etcetera. (Real Name: Koschei, but nobody calls him that... or knows that)
Series: Doctor Who
Age: ~900 years old
From When?: The end of “Last of the Time Lords”

Inmate/Warden: Inmate, because really, who would trust the Master to be a Warden?
Item: N/A
How Long Have You Been Here?: N/A

Abilities/Powers: As a Time Lord, the Master can “cheat death” by undergoing a Regeneration process, which is sort of dodgy, and can only be done about twelve times, unless you’re the Master, then it can be done however many times you feel like it (well, with cheating). While it allows him to recover from mortal wounds, it also makes him become a “new” person. His entire appearance will change, and certain aspects of his personality will, as well, but in essence, he’s still the same old sadistic bastard. He has the same memories, skills, etc. He is, at once, different and the same. The Regeneration process is incredibly taxing, and it’ll put him out of commission for a little bit. Although he can Regenerate, the Master can’t magically heal from all wounds in seconds, nor can he grow back a missing limb, unless these injuries are sustained while he still has some residual “regeneration juices” in him. Aside from the ability to Regenerate, the Master’s life span, in each incarnation, is far greater than that of a human’s. Barring accidents, a Time Lord can practically live forever. Also, he has increased stamina, more energy, and can more quickly recover from being attacked than a normal human. Despite this, he is still susceptible to many things that could kill a human, and some things that are totally harmless to humans, such as aspirin (which can, sadly, kill him)

Although he appears human in most respects, the Master is not human, and there are some significant physiological differences. He, like the rest of his kind, has a binary vascular system, i.e. two hearts. This comes in handy, you know, in the event that he sustains an injury that stops one heart from working. He doesn’t like having only one heart in use, though; it feels weird to him, and it hurts… since you’d hurt, too, if your heart stopped. He also has a respiratory bypass system, which allows him to go without air for a while. Also, his body temperature is lower than that of a human’s, and is generally around 15-16 degrees Celsius/60 degrees Fahrenheit.

Even though it’s not a “power,” the Master is quick-witted and resourceful, and he’s an expert in technology, history, and science. He can create a number of inventions, usually weapons, and is basically a super genius. Luckily, he’s insane, so that will sort of limit what he's capable of (or greatly expand it!). He is a skilled hypnotist, and is capable of dominating others.

Personality: The Master, in this current incarnation, is like a cartoon supervillain. That’s really the only way to describe him. He has always had fancies of extreme grandeur, but in order to capitalize on one of the Doctor’s greatest strengths-- his sense of humor-- the Master became a sort of… Time Lord equivalent of the Joker. He is a narcissistic megalomaniac, a sadist, and a psychopath. Among these charming qualities, the Master is also obscenely arrogant, vain, and prideful. The Master is, essentially, insane, and has been since he was a child. He's tormented by the drumbeat of war, endlessly raging in his head.

The Master is a sociopath who develops no real affection for anybody (except for himself), and is incapable of self-sacrifice. This means, if he has to destroy himself to destroy his enemies and succeed in his plans, he won't do it. Ultimately, his own survival and happiness is his only real concern-- and his happiness is generally dependent on how powerful he is and how miserable everybody else is. Like the Doctor, the Master is a genius; however, he's an eeevil genius. His sadism and cruelty is actually one of his greatest weaknesses; he'd stop in the middle of his plans just to kill an insect.

The Master is pretty hyperactive, and he relishes victory and success. He'll gloat endlessly over his victories, and will sometimes delay killing an enemy just to keep them alive and tormented. His greatest fears all revolve around the Doctor: the Doctor victorious, laughing over him, or the Doctor showing him compassion, uttering the words "I forgive you."

History: The Master's history is as long as varied as his arch-nemesis's. So long, in fact, that you should just check this link out for the gist of his history: Wikipedia lol (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master_%28Doctor_Who%29).

Basically, the Master was taken to the Academy at the age of eight and made to look into the Untempered Schism, as was typical for all young Time Lords. While some were inspired by it, others ran away or were driven insane. The Master's of the latter group. As he looked into the Schism, the sound of drums invaded his head, a never-ending call for war. He went off to become a constant thorn in the Doctor's side, returning again and again to destroy his former friend/greatest enemy. At one point, the Master even ran out of Regenerations, but still managed to find a way to live, taking the form of a snake-like creature and possessing unfortunate individuals.

Anyway, the Master eventually died, only to be resurrected by the Time Lords to fight in the Time War. However, when the Dalek Emperor took control of The Cruciform, the Master became so frightened that he traveled to the end of the universe to escape, and utilized a Chameleon Arch to rewrite his DNA. The Master became human, with his Time Lord "essence" trapped within a fob watch, which had a perception filter that would make the human Master unable to pay too much attention to it. He became Professor Yana, a kindly scientist with a mission of helping the last of humanity escape a dying world to go to Utopia. It was then that a mysterious Doctor, a girl named Martha Jones, and a (totally immortal) man named Jack Harkness entered the Professor's life. The trio set about helping him set off the rocket that would launch the last humans into Utopia, all the while dropping words that triggered strange feelings in him: time travel, regeneration, TARDIS... When he pulled out a funny old watch that he'd always had, Martha's reaction to it caused him to fixate on it. Funny, he'd never really paid attention to it before. It was always broken...

However, something was calling to him, something unexplainable. Professor Yana opened up the watch and the Time Lord essence seeped into him, returning the Master to life! WOO! His first orders of business were to let the murderous "Futurekind" into the compound, then set the rocket for Utopia off-course... then kill Chantho, his faithful companion. However, before she died, Chantho managed to shoot the Master, mortally wounding him. He ran into the TARDIS and locked it, keeping the Doctor out, and began to Regenerate, declaring that if the Doctor could make himself young and strong, so could he.

And thus, the Master Regenerated: younger, stronger, manic, and possibly more insane than ever. Before he could hijack the TARDIS to wherever he wanted to, the Doctor fused the coordinates, forcing him to only be able to travel between the year 100 Trillion and early 21st Century Earth. D'oh.

Still, the Master wasn't down and out. He created the pseudonym "Harold Saxon" and became a high-ranking minister within the Ministry of Defense. Through this position, he created the Archangel Network, which allowed him to hypnotize humanity on a world-wide scale and convince them to vote for him for Prime Minister.

When the Doctor and co. managed to catch up to him, it was too late: the Master was Prime Minister. His first act as Prime Minister was to declare first contact with an alien race known as the Toclafane, who were these goofy (murderous) floating spheres who spoke like children. Organizing a meeting with the President of the United States, he and other important figures met on the Valiant, a floating airship. There, the Master had the President killed, defeated the Doctor (by utilizing his laser screwdriver and aging his rival 100 years), and unleashed six billion Toclafane upon Earth, ordering them to kill one tenth of the population.

Now, normally you'd think "Ah, but here comes the part where the Doctor stops him and everything goes back to normal." Not so. The Master ruled from the Valiant for a year, destroying whole countries, torturing the immortal Jack Harkness, keeping the aged Doctor as his, er, dog, and enslaving Martha's family. Oh, and he also danced around a lot. Planet Earth turned into work camps and bases for fleets of rockets. Things were looking up for the Master! He even got to suspend the Doctor's regenerative capacities, forcing him to bear the weight of all 900 years of life and turning him into a shrunken gnome House Elf thing. The Master plotted to create a New Gallifrey and restore the Time Lord empire-- probably through the use of his Paradox Machine.

However, before he could succeed, he was defeated by the Doctor and his plucky band. Utilizing the psychic field of his own Archangel Network, Martha had coordinated people across the Earth to focus on just one thought at one time: the Doctor. Doing this allowed the Doctor to return to his usual youthful state and made him, wellll, all-powerful. He told the Master three simple words: "I forgive you," which were enough to drive his enemy into a miserable and terrified state. When everything was said and done and the Doctor saved the day, he decided that it was time to stop running, and that he would keep the Master and look after him. They'd travel the universe together and-- ughhhh it was just too much for the Master to handle. Luckily, he was shot by his beard-- er, "wife," Lucy Saxon. As he lay dying in the Doctor's arms, he finally found a way to triumph over his hated enemy: he refused to Regenerate and died, leaving the Doctor, once more, the last Time Lord. HA! Victory!

Sample Journal Entry: Ugh. I'll bet the Doctor is behind this mess. This just reeeeks of him. A second chance: I could reform, do some good, simper my way back to life! OH, YES, sign me up! Death doesn't suit me much, anyway. It's like life without all the gooey excitement. Never. Ending. Tedium.

And I can still hear it: the sound of the drums. The unceasing call to war. Oh, fabulous, even in death it haunts me, this relentless staccato beating.

Tap tap taptaptaptap. Tap tap taptaptaptap. Tap tap taptaptaptap.

Catchy, isn't it? I'm rather fond of the tune, myself. It has a way of, ohhh, getting inside your head. Don't you agree?

Sample RP:
An eternity with the Doctor, trapped in the TARDIS like his pet, ugh, companion. The very thought of it sickened the Master, made his stomach recoil-- oh, wait, no. No, that was the bullet. He found he was rather sick of getting shot by women. First that disgusting little insect Chantho, and now Lucy, dear Lucy. It was always the women, wasn't it? Couldn't trust them. They liked to act all simpering and sweet and devoted, but the second you let your guard down: BAM!

Oh, how he hated women.

Ah. But the look on the Doctor's face. Priceless. Worth a hundred thousand deaths-- and the Master wasn't one to consider his own death lightly. As he lay dying in his enemy's arms, he could feel the Doctor's hearts beating, racing, and-- ah, yes-- breaking! That was enough for him to ignore the drumming in his head as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to die...

...only to wake up.

...WHAT?

"Oh, no no no no no, Doctor!" he growled furiously, opening his eyes. He wasn't sure what to expect-- the interior of the TARDIS, probably, while the Doctor stood above him looking so grim and tortured by his own compassion. Instead, however, he was in what appeared to be... the cabin of a ship? Blinking, he sat up and looked around. How curious. There wasn't an afterlife; he was certain of it. But he had died. So what was this place? A trick, probably; some bleeding-heart scheme of the Doctor's to make him "see the error of his ways." How tossing him on a boat would do that, the Master didn't really know, but it was the only explanation he even wanted to consider at the moment.

Special Notes: Ughhh I've never RPed him before, so this should be FUN while I get the hang of it! I promise he won't suck once I get used to it. Cross my heart.

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Since his powers aren't really that vast in terms of what external effects he can cause, the only real limitation I'm going to place upon him is that his hypnotic powers will not work on anyone that's assigned to be his warden.

User Name/Nick: Rei
User LJ:

magdaleina
AIM/IM: SchmooeyFoo
E-mail: weirdophreak17@yahoo.com
Other Characters: Morgan Adams

Character Name: The Marquis de Sade
Series: Quills
Age: 54
From When?: Just after his deth

Inmate/Warden: Inmate

Abilities/Powers: No special powers. He's an able rider, swordsman and marksman though.
Personality: The Marquis has never been anything if not opinionated. He is unashamed of his views, especially not of voicing them, and he has little care for causing grief for the people that trouble him as well. He likes to shock people -- as a matter of fact, he enjoys it more than is probably healthy, and many of his exploits and writings were exercises in this rather than the purporting of his genuine beliefs. Definitely, he is of the kind that believe that people should speak without fear of punishment, and despite his very open views on the rights of the artist, he does not appear to so readily think that artists should be responsible for the impact of their work. The fact that he posts clear disclaimers on all of his writings is a clear show of that.

He does have morals. He would never practice the things he writes about, with the exception of a few odd kinks that were, truthfully, common among most men of the Aristocracy that'd been schooled by the Jesuit lycee. He writes all the horrid things that he does because they are there in his mind and must be purged in some fashion. Most of all, he is openly disgusted by the human preoccupation with associating all bad things with demons or the preternatural; much of his writing is there to illustrate that there is true evil in the world, and man is more than capable of it without help from demons or the Devil.

Lascivous by nature, he is very frank about the subject of sex, even the more bizarre corners of the practice. In fact, people might be inclined to think that it's all he ever really has on his mind, given how much he writes about it, and that he enjoys shaking people up by likening it to almost everything. ...That being said, they're probably right.

An amorous fellow, he also seems to enjoy nothing more than courting the favor of someone he admires. Though his prose does tend to be on the verbose and laughably purply side, there is a notable charm to his speech and his writing when he is feeling particularly amiable.

The Marquis calls himself an Atheist, though his beliefs in terms of higher power are more complicated than a mere term could really define. He professes Atheism, naturally, because in the time he is from, there are only two choices: You either believe in the Christian interpretation of God (particularly Catholic), or you don't believe in anything at all. That was how things worked back then. There were no other faiths with which to compare to. What the Marquis believed in as a higher power, however, was Nature as a living entity, so in some way, he did actually have some spirituality in him after all. He is so very preoccupied with talking about there not being a God -- just to piss Christians off -- that it tends to overshadow the fact that he does believe in some sort of deity; he just doesn't have the verbage to really express it as such.

History: (Note that I do make use of some actual history, here, to buffer the character's background, but I have adjusted some details to fit the version of De Sade that is in the movie -- supporting those historical innacuracies rather than changing the film, itself, to fit what actually happened.)

Born in the Conde palace in Paris to the Comte Jean-Baptiste de Sade and Marie-Eleonore de Carman and first christened Donatien Alphonse Francois de Sade, the Marquis was born to a life of privelage in the last decades of the French aristocracy. As the spoiled rotten only child of his parents, he came into his early adulthood and a lifestyle that would have been marked as excessive even among other Libertines. He served as a colonel in a regiment of Dragoons during the whole of the Seven Years' War and left the service a decorated soldier, remarked to have orchestrated a number of the successful campaigns for the French -- often by means of tactics that were regarded by his superiors as insane. He departed with such comments as his record as "it's a good thing he's on our side", in fact.

Whether it was the impact of the war or his own bad habits that sent him back to his usual habits, none could really be certain, but he put his father to shame with the amount of debts he began to stack up. Soon, he was arranged to marry the eldest daughter in a family that was not part of the old nobility, as his family was, but among the rising wealthy middle class. Renee Pelagie de Montreuil was a much plainer woman than most, but remained a steadfast supporter of her husband for much of their lives together. The Marquis had such a deep love and sense of friendship with her that he kept much of his more distasteful exploits a secret, and when caught, exercised great expense to keep such news from her. He continued to rent apartments in the city with which to entertain prostitutes and courtesans and actresses (all VERY common for aristocratic men at this time, by the way) to handle those vices he felt ashamed to defer to Renee for. He served his first jail sentence (though eventually reduced) when a prostitute reported him for shouting blasphemies at her during intercourse. (No, I'm actually not making that up.) Shortly afterwards, much of his exploits could never again be kept secret, as the King and his consort, Madame de Pompadour, out of boredom began hiring private agents to track the sexual exploits of the nobles and report back to them with them. Essentially, in some of the final years of the Monarchy in France, the Aristocracy had lost their right to privacy, all to entertain a King and his disinterested Mistress.

Many of the Marquis' scandals continued to remain under the notice of his wife, often with the help of her mother, a controlling and shrewd woman who went to very great lengths to maintain the image of her family. He would be catapulted into the ranks of the imfamous, however, when a prostitute by name of Rose Keller (claiming to only be a widow looking for work) accused him of kidnapping her, whipping her to the point of bleeding, cauterizing the wounds with hot wax, and then keeping her prisoner. Though no physical evidence of any reported injuries being found upon immediate inspection, it was largely accepted that the scandal took place anyhow -- some people even going on to claim that that Marquis had developed a salve that healed on contact (and these people actually BELIEVED this). It was just before full blown chaos erupted that the Marquis finally came clean with his wife and made plain to her the events that took place that night. Upon his arrest she became the loudest supporter for his release.

He was still sentenced to jail time, despite no evidence of the charges being brought to light. It was at this time that his mother-in-law secured a lettre-de-cache from the King. Generally used by nobles to keep their loved ones out of the lower courts in times of trouble, to lighten their sentencing, this became a curse for the Marquis, as it gave his mother-in-law the power to have him thrown in jail at any time, without trial, whenever she felt like he was making too big a spectacle of himself.

Unable to return to military service thanks to the exorbitant debts caused by the Rose Keller incident (he had to sell his commission), the Marquis' life from then on would continue to be no less complicated.

The Marquis spent more than half of his life in prisons or asylums, often in the wake of many different scandals that his mother in law wished to keep quiet. It was in captivity that a number of his already unhealthy appetites became odd obsessions. The Marquis began writing as a way to stave off his loneliness, as he had little more than a brick wall to talk to most times. Constantly mistreated by the guards, stripped of his privelages (sometimes with provocation, sometimes without -- he was not a very pleasant prisoner), his writings that were not merely letters to his continually devoted wife were often stories -- some becoming more and more laden with his libertine philosophies, and then more violent and perverse with time. It is, in fact, these writings, coupled with many of the dubious scandals of his life, that led to the invention of the word sadism.

Tensions between the Marquis and his wife continued to grow steadily, due to separation, reputation and paranoia (he suspected she was having an affair for some time, though this proved not to be true), on through the Revolution, and in that time he continued to be in and out of prison. Involved in the politics of the time, he was hated even by his new contemporaries as much of his philosophies tended to have an anti-Christian undertone, among other things, and it was by clerical error alone that he and his wife were not among those aristocrats reserved for the guillotine. His home in prison at the time of the Terror, in fact, overlooked the site from where many nobles were executed.

In the time of Napoleon, the Marquis, with the help of his now estranged wife, was interned at the Charenton Asylum for the Insane, run by the Abbe de Coulmier, an idealist who employed curatives for his patients by more proactive means than his contemporaries, such as music and art therapy. After some years living in this place (he spent close to a decade there, more or less), he became less petulant, largely due to his comfortable accomodations, but also because the Abbe provided him all the ink, quills and paper he required to write. The Abbe did this, naturally, because he believed the writing soothed his mind and made him less unpleasant. One other contribution made him more docile, however, and this was the friendship he developed with a laundress at the asylum, a young Madeleine Leclerc, who began to practice reading through him. She admired the Marquis, finding his writings, in most cases, funny and entertaining, not to be taken seriously despite their rather sinister content for the time. Eventually, she began to aid him in smuggling manuscripts of his work to a publisher, and what came of thi was the production of the novel, Justine, which threw the whole of France into riot.

Napoleon initially ordered the author of the novel shot, but his advisors provided another solution -- so as not to make the Marquis a martyr. Instead, he sent one Doctor Royer-Collard to the Asylum to oversee the Abbe's work there. By means of coercion, Royer-Collard was able to use threats of closure to see to it the Abbe tightened the Marquis' leash for every infraction and disobedience. One by one, his privelages were taken away, including his quills and paper, and in protest, the Marquis continued to devise more and more creative ways to continue writing, starting with wine on bed linens, coming to the use of blood and eventually even excrement as inks. All of his possessions, including his clothes, were taken from him, and when the dictation of one of his last stories led to the Madeleine's murder by the hands of another inmate, his tongue was removed, leading to his eventual decline by infection. The Abbe, once a dear friend of his, held him dying as he swallowed the man's crucifix and choked to death on it, choosing that over permitting the man to procure a last repentance from him.

Sample Journal Entry: (taken from another board I play him on) Beloved Reader, I've a puzzling tale to tell you.

Imagine that you find yourself on the brink of death, and all the putridness that this may imply. Your body is broken; you can feel it consuming itself out of starvation, and it is covered in welt and open wound, and finally in excrement, as you haven't the strength to stand and clean yourself, or find some corner with which to deposit your relief. The stench is terrible. You might plead with your captors for assistance, but you haven't a tongue with which to speak, just an aching emptiness, the feel of a hard stump somewhere toward the back of your throat where that appendage once began and should have stretched onward. No, the only thing pressing against the back of your teeth is a hard wad of linen, forced there to catch the blood that still threatens to choke you.

Can you perceive that agony, reader?

Beautiful, no? I have written of many horrors, disclosed them to you unabashedly, but my conception of torture has never been so vividly outshined.

Your final hour approaches, and it is not the guard that comes to you now, possibly hoping for your expiration, that your body may be disposed of. It is a friend, one whose bonds with you have been tried unforgivably in the recent weeks, one whose hands had provided much of the punishments you have endured, all of which brought you to this state.

Could one blame you, reader, for rejecting his prayers for you? Prayers that felt false not in his sincerity -- though you wish they had been, as it is so much easier to dismiss a person if in your last moments of pure helplessness your anger remains hard -- but false in the sense that the only people who hear them are the two of you.

There is no God. He professes now that no human being is exempt of divine mercy, of passage into paradise, and yet here you lie, in the lowest caverns of Hell, and you wonder why the man's convictions can run so steadfastly to God, but no defense arose when you were still yet clothed and healthy and safe, before his betrayal broke you.

Would you do as I have done, reader? He offered his rosary to me to kiss in acquiescence, and I consumed it, though his fingers pried at my teeth, I permitted the hard metals to slide down, lodge sharply in my throat -- I could feel it puncturing even as that final moment arrived.

I wish I could profess with full honesty that it was my greatest victory, but none in my state could have done better.

Here lies my confusion, reader: This surely would bode the end of a story and not the beginning, oui? It is with this, encased in vivid personal recollection, that I put my quill to paper now, coming to the slow but confusing realization that while this surely happened, your faithful author continues to exist, continues to write, and continues to be who he always has been.

The afterlife? Perhaps. Heaven or Hell? Hardly. Though this was not to be expected, there is still no God or Devil to be found, and that satisfies me. Nature suffices unto herself without need of a creator -- although this turn is most definitely not one I thought Her capable of.

-MDS

Sample RP: [3-5 paragraphs, 3rd Person POV] It was all there, and the very sight of it took the Marquis' breath away. Despite knowing he was on a ship very akin to those sailing the sea, the room itself was stone, its walls arching up to the ceiling. Each wave seemed to join with others at singular points in the roof, folding together like petals of a mason flower. It was, in every way, the very same room he had left behind in Charenton in build. It was positively stuffed, the walls adorned with paintings an sketches (some of an alluring context), shelves crammed with so many books, that they've had to be stacked horizontally, and all manner of strange figurines are arranged there -- some notably are carved phalli, made of various stones and even glass, others are busts -- full figures -- all of a sexual nature. A four-poster, curtained bed lay in the subchamber beyond, lying open -- notably hung on the wall at the head is what appeared to be a complete human ribcage and spinal cord. In the front room there were desks, with many quills lying about, sheafs of paper, pots of ink, and near the bookshelves lay a very lavishly built chair for relaxing that has seen better days, and a footstool made of human bones.

All of these were inconsequential to the Marquis however, who moved first for the lines of bound manuscripts and rolls of parchment that adorned one shelf, pulling out one roll in particular that was quite heavy. Red ink, scrawled in his very familiar hand, stared up at him, and his hands shook as he beheld it.

"This is -- "

Impossible. That was precisely what it was. The roll of paper he held in his hand had been lost, left behind when he was removed from the Bastille, certainly burnt and permanently destroyed in the storming that took place the next day. He had said to Madeleine, once, that he cried tears of blood when he heard, very unlike the ones seeping to the corners of his eyes now at the thought of her. It was the longest piece he'd ever written, and by far the only one he could have imagined that would make her dear heart cringe. And she would have enjoyed it for that. Sweet girl that she was, she had a good stomach for the unpleasant, and a mind keen enough to take deeper meaning from things.

And the barge had brought all these things for him?

Then fine, he accepted that this ship was a greater power than he imagined existed. What bargain did he have to make, then, to restore his Madeleine's life?

Special Notes: I like pie.

[Note that I did have someone else look it over before posting this. Rei is a lonely mod. LONELY x.x]

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Er -- Done, that is.

User Name/Nick: Ros
User LJ:

pyroslut
AIM/IM: pyrocornflakes
E-mail: rosloops at gmail dot com
Other Characters: The Master

Character Name: Major Henry West
Series: 28 Days Later
Age: 36 years old
From When?: After he got his face ripped off by zombies.

Inmate/Warden: Inmate
Item: N/A
How Long Have You Been Here?: N/A

Abilities/Powers: Major West is a normal human, so he doesn’t have any special powers or anything. What he does have is extensive military training, so he’s proficient in firearms, survival skills, and… hitting people. Otherwise, there’s nothing special about him. How sad!

Personality: Major West is somewhat complicated, I guess. He likes to think of himself as a very pragmatic, practical, and disciplined man, but, he really isn't. He is capable of doing inhumane things for what he thinks is the “greater good.” He likes to absolve whatever guilt he feels by not personally committing whatever great acts of violence/cruelty he allows. For example, despite promising his soldiers that they could have sex with the first women to come across them (whether the ladies were willing or not), West himself never actually behaved inappropriately with the women or expressed any sexual interest in them. Instead, he just stood aside and allowed his men to go ahead and do what they want, going so far as to order the execution of those who'd stop it from happening. In this way, he is perhaps even worse than the monsters he’s supposed to protect people against. Honestly, he’s not even that good of a leader. He wants to keep his boys happy and protect them, but he does so by pandering rather than keeping order.

Emotionally, he’s pretty weak, and he needs to be liked and seen as a good guy in order to live with himself. He is deeply devoted to his men, and wants them to show the same loyalty to him. Major West is a “man’s man,” and he has a sort of patronizing view of women, believing they ought to be restricted to more “traditional” roles. As such, he’s not particularly fond of taking orders from women, although he’s fine with women in power “in theory,” so long as they aren’t in direct control over him. Overall, Major West is quite reserved and won’t talk about his personal life or feelings often, although he’ll maintain a charming and friendly enough face around others and will display a sense of humor from time to time. Physically, he’s very reserved, too, and will maintain rigid, militaristic body language at almost all times. He doesn’t flirt with others, and his sexuality is kind of ambiguous; it’s hard to say if he’s gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, pansexual (okay, that's a highly unlikely one), or what. He won’t let on very easily or willingly.

West isn't an idiot, but he's not a genius either. He has a sort of stand-offish, book-smartness that enables him to approach certain situations with a cold, detached attitude (situations like chaining up an Infected and waiting for it to starve to death, while more bleeding heart types might have a problem with such "experiments"). However, his practical intelligence isn't that great. He tends to assume that things will work out as he dictates, and doesn't really plan very well for problems. When he's really upset, he stops thinking things through completely, and will behave like a moron. West can be rather arrogant, and will sometimes smugly taunt people/things that he has an upper-hand over.

History: Henry West doesn’t have a particularly interesting or unique history; in fact, his early life was marked with total and complete averageness. He was born and raised in London, to a somewhat inattentive father with a military background and a doting, stay-at-home mother. The family was pretty solidly working class, and although he couldn’t have everything he wanted growing up, he was provided with everything he actually needed. His father encouraged him to work hard and earn his own money from an early age, so he was often doing chores and whatnot around the house, or doing jobs for neighbors (until he was old enough for a real job). As a youth, he was interested in becoming a footballer, but he wasn’t really good enough to play more than recreationally, and his father firmly slapped down such silly notions. At school, he was an average student overall, although he was rather keen on history. Still, he opted not to take his A-Level exams (which he would’ve solidly performed “so-so” in), and after working with his father for a bit, enlisted in the British Army at the age of 18. He took quite well to military life—in fact, he excelled in it. Annnd this is why he remained in the military for 18 years, rising in ranks until he became a Major.

When Henry was 36, an outbreak of some kind of crazy monkey disease spread across Britain, infecting people with “Rage,” essentially turning them into frothing, ravenous monsters (but we can’t call them “zombies” because that’ll start a month-long debate about Romero zombies vs fast zombies. OH NO!). Throughout the outbreak, he managed to protect most of his men (although many did end up dying at the hands of the Infected), and they were able to inhabit a large, fancy home, which they fortified into their own military base. Traps were laid, enabling them to blow up or shoot down any Infected that tried to get into the house. While this was hilarious and fun, the men quickly grew despondent. What was the point of fighting if the entire world was overrun by infected? When West came across Jones, one of the simpler, more innocent morons in his charge, ready to shoot himself because there was no future, he tried to raise morale any way he could. Because his men weren’t that bright, the best solution he came up with was “We get to start civilization all over again when we find women. AWESOME, RIGHT?!” The consensus of the men was, for the most part, “Yeah!” And so, West looped a broadcast claiming that they had the cure for Infection, hoping to lure any survivors to them.

Of course, his intentions weren’t all that horrible. In his own sick way, he thought he’d be helping anybody who came across them. It was just, well, while receiving protection, the women would have to have sex with his dudes whether they wanted to or not, and the male survivors would just have to sit back and deal with it (or join up). So, they win and his men win. And in doing so, he wins! Win-win-win!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 211

TLV - Character Applications (OLD FORM)

Application 1/3

Application 2/3

Application 3/3

Application 4/3 waha fractions

Re: Application 4/3 waha fractions

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Re: Application 4/3 waha fractions

no subject

no subject

no subject

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

no subject

The Master

Re: The Master

Re: The Master

Re: The Master

Re: The Master

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Note, However! (Edit)

Inmate App 1/?

Inmate App 2/?

Inmate App 3/?

Inmate App 4/?

Inmate App 5/5

Accepted

Accepted!

Welcome to the Last Voyages!

Re: Accepted

Henry West

Re: Henry West