UNDERGROUND: The Kanto Chronicles [OOC/SU]
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September 8th, 2011 (9:25 PM). Edited September 9th, 2011 by Loki.
Join Date: Aug 2005
Location: Tokyo, Japan
Uhh, never got a response on his psyche so not sure what to do with that, but let me know.... ^^;;
: Arron Hale
: All sensation from the waist down, resulting in a complete inability to walk/run and move freely. The loss of his legs represents that he can't continue his journey, Arron's escape from his dreaded family. He is, in a sense "trapped" again in immobility, much like how he couldn't escape his family's reputation in the past.
: With platinum blonde hair and crisp lime green eyes, Arron would be quite the blindingly bright sight if not for his slightly tanned skin. Certainly nowhere near as dark as the sunkissed beach look of the inhabitants of Dewford Town, Arron’s complexion is merely a product of being outdoors without proper sun protection for long periods of time. His luck comes in the fact that despite the brutality with which he treats his skin, it’s still miraculously smooth- though the blonde boy would be the first to tell you that he’s going to become a wrinkly prune as soon as the sun catches up with him. Which is just fine with him—it’d match his constantly grumpy expression, thin brows constantly knit together in disapproval. Standing at 6’, Arron’s gangly appearance is riddled with lean muscle from lots of cardiovascular exercise in the form of travelling, travelling, and more travelling.
Appearance, in the sense of his overall visual impression, is of the utmost importance to him. His hair is always meticulously styled—bangs swept across his eyes and flipped out at the ends. His clothes, always fashionable, but also practical. Normally without much chance to change on his journey, Arron’s primary staple is a thin white windbreaker with red sleeves and pockets, always worn on top of a white or black t-shirt depending on whichever happens to be the more clean of the two. Due to the moderate temperature of most of Kanto’s locations, Arron usually keeps his jacket’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a white sporting watch around Arron’s right wrist and a lime green sweatband on his left. Once again, depending on the weather, Arron dons either a pair of slim-fitting black slacks or capris on his legs to put off the bright colors. His red and black hi-tops are quite worn, but still retain their shine, indicating that they’re not so much old as they are overused. His black socks are pushed down around the ankle, as folding is “frickin’ old-fashioned”, and low-cut socks “fall off all the damn time”.
: With an attitude as sharp as the glare constantly plastered across his face, Arron is the king of sarcasm and disdain. Seemingly nothing can please or impress him, and he tends to grate on everyone’s nerves just by opening his mouth. His confrontational nature makes it hard for him to make friends, and even harder for him to keep friends. As though constantly on the defense, Arron often unconsciously attacks people, poking holes in the conversation until it just falls apart entirely. With a severe case of word vomit, Arron often doesn’t know where to draw the line in his harsh words and criticisms, and often flies off the handle in a flurry of heated emotion. Impressively, a guy like Arron does still manage to make friends, however. If anyone manages to get past his thorny exterior, he becomes considerably less rude, replacing all the stand-offish mannerisms with a genuine concern for your well-being. As a true friend, Arron’s loyalty has no limits, and his trust is almost endless. But before that stage, Arron is just what people describe him to be: A jerk.
Surprisingly enough, his extremely criticism for others doesn’t stem for insecurity, or anything that most bullies like him tend to get their source of contempt from. Rather, it comes from an extreme need to succeed and accomplish things that he loads onto himself as well. In Arron’s eyes, if he can excel at something, so should everyone else. And just the same, if someone else can excel at something, so should he. A hard worker who would never give up in the face of defeat, Arron’s stubbornness can be viewed positively as relentless determination. He’s the first to drag someone back onto their feet if they feel hopeless, though oftentimes he does this without considering their feelings, or whether or not they actually want to stand back up. But to Arron, giving up is the lowest of low. Not to mention he’s an extremely sore loser, so “giving up” is already out of the question anyway. Crying and showing weaknesses—all of these fall under the category of things Arron never allows himself to do, because he feels that in a sense, these are also losses in themselves.
After the loss of his legs however, Arron’s confidence has been twisted into a sense of insecurity. Unsure of how others view him as a handicap, particularly in this game in which mobility is of the utmost importance, Arron is even more determined than ever to prove himself. He has a hard time seeing the good in other people, and is usually wary of most strangers.
: Growing up in a relatively poor family from the heart of Saffron City, Arron was the son of a no-good dad who disappeared for long periods of time and a no-good mother who couldn’t do anything herself. The judgment of having such a worthless family fell hard on Arron, who reveled in praise and admiration. Rather than candy and toys, as a child, Arron wanted someone to pat him on the head and be impressed with him. But as soon as they found out who his mom was, who his dad was—all that admiration seemed to flush itself down the septic system and turn into the thing that Arron hated the most. He didn’t want anybody’s
. So what if he cooked his own meals cause his ma would burn the house down if she tried doing it herself? So what if he had more siblings than he could count on both hands, with seemingly more coming? Not like he cared about any of them! Getting out and away from the house was Arron’s number one dream, realized when he caught a pokemon with a “borrowed” pokeball from the department store. Now most kids would go out with the blessings of their family, with some sort of destination in mind. Well, Arron didn’t need his family’s blessin’s, and he did have a destination in mind: Anywhere but here.
At first it was obviously not something well thought out, particularly with his first pokemon being a Hitmonlee, there wasn’t really much the pokemon could do in the way of helping out his trainer. Surviving off of Pokemon Centers and doing odd jobs, the trick to living on his own was something Arron caught onto quickly, if only for the sake of survival. He occasionally travelled with others, but ultimately couldn’t find a place for himself in groups, or ended up storming away from a travelling partner in a flurry of an argument, usually over something petty. Still, it was better than being stuck at home, where people judged him before they even saw what he could do. And so life continued, relatively peacefully. He caught pokemon like any other trainer, battled other trainers upon sight like most hot-headed kids his age, and toyed with the idea of going back around with a different goal: Challenging the gyms to earn the right to really, really prove himself by defeating the Elite Four. Life was indeed so carefree that Arron could entertain such amusing ideas-- until one day, he was found dead on Route 24.
: Arron’s wheelchair is capable of functioning both as a normal, manual push wheelchair, and as a psyche-based weapon. While out of battle, Arron prefers working with the wheelchair as a normal object to conserve his energy, however the wheelchair itself can propel and bash enemy noise with the combined weight of the seat and Arron—and the wheels may spin to add a little extra burn to the impact. The incorporation of a psyche in the form of his wheelchair is primarily in order to reduce the disadvantage Arron’s entry price leaves him at compared to other players.
For you, what was your death like? Was it justified? That's if you remember it, of course.
What kinda question is that? Can’t believe you’d just straight up ask me that like it’s all cool that I’m dead. Course it wasn’t justified, when is someone dyin’ ever justified? What has someone told you, “Oh yeah I definitely deserved to die, boy am I glad I kicked the bucket.” Tch. Anyway, if you gotta know, I got beaten up by some loser’s Golem- a snot faced rich kid’s. My team was gonna stomp his face into the ground, see, because he was just some spoiled brat who didn’t know anything about battling. Probably never bought a single meal with his own hard-earned money, by the looks ‘a him. So anyway, kid realizes I’ve got him totally beat, and mama’s boy wasn’t hot with that idea. He sends his golem after ME, and the fat lump sits his butt on my leg—now you tell me the last time your leg got body slammed by a golem and it came out in one piece. Well, so of course I’m pissed and I tell him that I’m not gonna wet my pants every time I lose, and that if I was him, I’d figure out that sitting at home on momma’s lap was the best place for me. Now his golem didn’t like that too much either, so the big guy rolls over onto my other leg, and body slam or not, Golem’s are pretty darn heavy. But Arron, y’say, two broken legs ain’t going to kill ya, right? Naw, two broken legs hurt like no other, but not anything that’d snuff me out. Naw, the stupid golem steps on my freakin’ head as it gets up. Now if that don’t kill ya at least within the next half hour, you got a head of steel, brotha.
There's a fork in the road, splitting off in several directions; a forest, a swamp, a dirt track, a city and a clear route. Which do you take?
Well depends on if you’re askin’ me when I was alive or not. If I was alive, I would definitely take the city. It’s nicer on the feet than any of the other options, really, and it’s like my home turf. But seein’ as I would sink to my second death in a swamp, couldn’t really negotiate anywhere in a forest with this lunk of meta under my butt, and a city is definitely not handicap friendly, I’d obviously take the clear route now that my legs are dead weight don’tcha think? Seeing as wheelchairs aren’t exactly fabulous transport in any of the other suggested areas.
What do you have to go back to? What are you fighting for? Why do you want to live? Why are you even here?
I-…. What the heck? Do I need to a reason to want to live? Nobody wants to die, and if they do then they should just get it over with themselves! Stop wastin’ the air, y’know what I mean?! But me? I’m not even halfway done with my life, and… I gotta go back and beat that kid’s face in! Not literally, like he did to me, but in a battle—or something, fair and square, y’know? Well, that’s assuming they haven’t locked him up for being a freaking murderer, but I got a lotta stuff I need to do in my life other than square it away with that creep anyway. I got friends, family, places to go and people to see… I have a future, unlike that frog-faced freak, and I’m fightin’ to get my legs workin’ to get that future back. I can’t exactly go wanderin’ around if I can’t feel my legs, ya know? As for why I’m here, I dunno, why don’t you ask those hooded weirdos?
Any last words before you start your week?
I’m gonna win this. No matter what it takes. Everyone else can pretty much just quit now, because I’m gonna be the winner.
Roleplay Sample: Fair warning this "latest" is pretty darned old. XDD
Kim Jin Ah.
If there was a girl you didn’t want to cross, it was her. She was the worst kind of woman- the kind that could lie through their teeth like she was telling the truth, the kind that could tell you the cold, hard truth without even flinching, the kind that would kick you while you were down. Actually, kicking people while they were down was a lot more fun that people would think. God, all those righteous cows who thought that they were being nice by not putting someone down the first time. Jin Ah couldn’t stand them. And then the ones that backed down when they started something? Ugh, unforgivable! Storming into the mansion- no, correction. Storming into her mansion, Jin Ah let out a frustrated shriek, throwing her black leather Jimmy Choo handbag onto the freshly polished black marble floors. Not a single servant flinched- this temper tantrum had been a regular occurrence for quite some time now. Well, there was a very damned good reason for it! All the way from DAYCARE to when she transferred to this GOD forsaken school, she had been the best. She had been the girl that all the boys would practically drool over, while three other boys were busy wiping off the drool from her path, disinfecting the ground, and rolling out a red carpet- all for her. And now? Now what was she? THIS. This, this… BETA!! Jin Ah stamped her foot, encased in five inch high peeptoe ankle boots that barely revealed the perfect plum pedicure on her toes. Jin Ah always looked classy, even when she was throwing a fit. Dressed in a black boat-necked dress with a short banded hem, Jin Ah looked as if she had gone out clubbing. Which, thank you very much, she hadn’t, because that would be like, super lame. Who went clubbing out in broad daylight? Ugh, so not chic.
A butler approached after a few minutes, picking up her brand-name bag and dusting it off for her- despite the fact that there was no chance for dust on the floors of Jin Ah’s personal mansion. She snatched it from his hands, “Can you believe it?!” Jin Ah snapped at him, getting ready to ***** away at Yoo Mi, the girl whom she had unfortunately been forced to follow around like a- like a groupie ever since she’d transferred to this abysmal school. “I can’t believe it! Yoo Mi has NO backbone! Ugh, if it had been me, I would’ve started a catfight! Eun Bi is nothing! A twisted wrist is better than giving up! What a spineless woman! …. UUUUGH!” Jin Ah stamped across the foyer, ignoring the bows of the maids and butlers who stood at their posts as she continued to rant, “All that ***** did was grab that OTHER *****’s wrist! …Oh!” Jin Ah faked a distressed voice, putting the back of her hand against her forehead, “Forgive me Eun Bi ah! I’m such a wimpy FAKE that I can’t even handle it when someone twists my wrist a little! Oh, the pain!”
Another scream ripped through the house as Jin Ah threw her stilettos at the living room, a maid expertly catching it before it flew into the glass lamp and shattered it. A second maid caught the second flying stiletto before it crashed through the scenic window that gave Jin Ah a perfect view of the city lights when it was dark, and a perfect view of a dismal city during the day. What a view to cheer her up. Dirty, stinking Seoul. Why couldn’t she have been in London, or Los Angeles? Even New York would be better than this.
“How DARE she tell me to leave! As if she thinks I would stand to LOSE to Eun Bi! I can’t believe her. I would’ve used my free hand and taken my shoe and knocked the living DAYLIGHTS out of that uppity woman!” Jin Ah snarled, her eyes glistening as she glared at the five inch spikes on the shoes that a maid was currently holding in her hands. She took a deep breath, shaking her head before looking up towards the ceiling, but not yet craning all the way back. Taking a deep breath, Eun Bi held out both hands and began fanning herself, pressing her hands against her face here and there as she simpered, “Oh, if I get any angrier I’m going to give myself wrinkles!” Plopping down onto a plushy couch, the princess of the Kim Household crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms- a habit of hers that told everyone else to stay out of her life. “But don’t you agree Butler Park? You should train a dog the first time, not the second time. You’ll confuse the poor creature if you let it do something bad once. Best to teach it it’s lesson the first time!” Jin Ah heaved a sigh, “Yoo Mi obviously didn’t get proper training for being an Alpha. At least I didn’t have half of my groupies revolting behind my back.” A moment of silence throughout the house, completely devoid of residents other than the day servants, and at night, the night servants. And of course, Jin Ah herself. She felt compelled to talk, so she let out a chuckle, rolling her eyes at the memory of Eun Bi.
“But oh, how the great have fallen!” Jin Ah exclaimed with glee, flipping her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder and readjusting her black beret, “If you’d had SEEN Eun Bi, I’m sure even you would have laughed, Butler Park! Oh my god, she looks like a MESS without make-up! How terrible! I hope I don’t wind up looking like a thirty-year-old vegetable seller when I turn eighteen-“ Jin Ah paused, “Ah, no, not that it’s physically possible for someone like me to look like a vegetable seller, no matter what I’m wearing.” She opened her mouth to continue bashing out Eun Bi, but the sound of her ringtone, a very clear version of her favorite song by After School, interrupted the princess Jin Ah. There were two things in the world that Jin Ah allowed to interrupt her. Her cellphone, because the poor thing was probably about to deliver her something much worth hearing, and her father, because he paid for everything around her. Though of course, once it was paid for, it was hers, in her eyes. Holding out her perfectly freshly Minx manicured hand, she flipped open her clamshell Samsung, pressing the upper end to her ear whilst avoiding her dangly black zipper earrings.
(I'm cutting it short here because the rest is boring and unecessary unless you understood the actual RP itself.)
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