App for HIC

[evomoment]

Player Information::
Player Name: Comrade
Age: 17
Timezone: PST
Personal Journal: comradequestion
Contact Information: Email: comradequestion@hotmail.com, Plurk: gipsydangeresque, AIM: comradequestion


Character Information::
Name: Charlie Guerra
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Symbol: Crossed swords
Font Color: Silver: #848484

Pesterchum Handle:imprudentSpartacus
Strife Specibus:Chainkind
Fetch Modus:Rubix. Each capchalogued item is split into nine component squares making up parts of a larger cube . All squares must be aligned on one side of the cube before the item can be retrieved.

Game Alias:woodrowskillson
Guardian:Pop, a stocky Mexican-American man whose job as a night watchman often keeps him and Charlie from seeing each other.

History:
Charlie has lived alone with his Pop out in Nowheresville, New Mexico for as long as he can remember. Pop used to tell stories about finding him all on his lonesome out in their backyard, and he never had much reason to disbelieve him. Even if Pops wasn't his biological father, Charlie had always thought of him as such.

Taking their distance from any large cities and Pop's relatively low income into account, it was a while before video games of any kind were introduced into the Guerra household. His first real contact with games was when he was around seven, and Pops had brought home a battered old SNES and a copy of Street Fighter 2. While it was far and away from the latest thing, Charlie loved it anyway, and soon became enchanted with gaming as a whole, though fighting games were and still remain his favorites. When they managed a stable, if somewhat spotty, internet connection, Charlie would spend hours watching tournament videos and recorded matches.

Though he led a relatively normal childhood, Charlie had few real friends, his coarse attitude and aggressive mannerisms making him difficult to empathize with, and what few friends he did make he quickly lost touch with as the years passed. This combined with Pop's long work hours and odd sleep schedule keeping them from seeing much of each other, lead Charlie to seek companionship in the only other place he knew. That place being the internet. He got his start on fighting game community forums, developing a more brusque, flippant persona for himself in response to the constant atmosphere of shit-talk that pervades the FGC. From there he moved on to a handful of chat clients, Pesterchum in particular. There, at managed to make a few close friends, or about as close as online friends can get.

Pop's consistent absence also led to Charlie frequently holding down the fort on his own most days, either ordering or making his own meals, washing his own clothes, and generally becoming a self-sufficient person in his own right even before the introduction of internet into his life.

HIC is a fairly new entry in his life, having finally folded to months upon months of pestering from his online friends. It was the PvP aspect of the game that drew him in at first, but over time he's become accustomed to the non-fighty parts of the game. Still, combat is about the only thing that maintains his interest, and he'll often call up guildmates to help with alchemization or puzzle quests.
Personality:
Stubborn, bullheaded, and fiercely competitive, Charlie is the archetypal internet tough guy, full of bluff and bluster when he's behind a keyboard but significantly more docile offline.

Competitive as he is, Charlie's not a sore loser. If he loses, then it was all on his head and congrats to the other guy for managing to kick his ass. Trash talk is not out of the question, though, and he can be fairly coarse and aggressive to people he considers to be competition, officially or otherwise. It's easy for him to fall into an "us versus them" sort of mindset, and when he thinks he's in the right there's just no dragging him out of it until all's said and done.

He prides himself on being a straight shooter, though mostly this just means being incredibly blunt about his feelings. If Charlie doesn't like you, he'll let you know, either through the medium of trash talk or just a solid punch in the gut. Though substantially less direct offline, he still prefers to be upfront about his feelings no matter the circumstances. He's not incapable of lying, but most of the time he doesn't really see much reason to. Leading people on or any kind of emotional manipulation are completely out of the question, too. If you want something from someone, why not just go ahead and say it? He doesn't have much patience for any of that stuff either, and throwing out lots of half-truths and cryptic bullshit is a good way to piss him off. This might be because Charlie is just plain awful at reading people, and most always assumes they're trying to pull something on him. Hence, gaining his trust is a difficult task, but one that's worthwhile in the long run.

Having only a few living relatives and even fewer friends, Charlie is loyal to a fault. Though he's not very good at showing, he considers anybody who's gained his trust worthy of his respect and friendship. This also means that he can be somewhat clingy when it comes to relationships, unwilling to break off ties even when it would be beneficial for him in the long run.

If there's one thing that Charlie doesn't take well, it's change. Being forced into unfamiliar situations riles him up more than anything, and it takes a lot to make him deviate from the same old routines. That's not to say he's entirely unwilling to turn things around, but it's slow going even when he's fully convinced it'll be a good thing. This attitude tends to carry over when meeting new people, often coming off as dismissive or downright rude. Ruder than the norm, that is.

Interests-wise, Charlie's a pretty simple guy. Chief among them are fighting games, which have captured his attention for years and will probably never stop doing so, and he tends to pepper his speech with FGC terms when online. Aside from that, he likes his media quick and punchy, able to be consumed in short bursts during his free time. Shonen manga is a particular favorite of his, even if it can get more than a little silly sometimes.
Appearance:
In terms of appearance, Charlie sits somewhere in the middle of the road. He's not a huge guy, but he's not short either, standing in at around 5'8, though his slightly slouched posture makes it seem a little less than that. He's not handsome, but he at least knows how to take care of himself. His features are rounded, almost cherubic, with smallish ears and a button nose. His hair is dark brown, matching his eyes, and wild, at about shoulder length and looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. He sports a wispy, adolescent goatee that he obstinately refuses to shave off. While far from an athlete, his muscles are at least semi-defined, and he could probably pass for toned if the lighting was right. When it comes to clothing, he prefers to keep it simple, a t-shirt and jeans with the addition of a fashionable and slightly douchy wallet chain making up his usual wardrobe.


Preferred Classes:Knight, Heir, Bard (Super-flexible with all of these)
Preferred Aspects:Rage, Blood, Heart
Preferred Denizen:Ophiotaurus, Wendigo, Samael


Pester Sample:
Okay, maybe he's not so good at combat either.
Prose Sample:
The wind blowed fast and strong, tugging at his gi as he strode across the rocky platue, the dark see churning and foaming beneath him. Across from him stoof his opponent, his enemy. The man who had killed his sensei, who had sullied his family's honor.

Today, he would reclaim that honor.

He clenched his fists, dropping into a fighting stance, shifting his weight from foot to foot as a sinister black aura began to engulf his foe. A voice, perhaps some distant referee come to ordian their final confrontation, rang in his ears. "Round one. Fight!" Without missing a beat, he threw himself a his opponent, feet barely touching the ground as he lay into the other with a barrage of punches and kicks, momentum carrying him from blow to blow. The man did not flinch or react in any way, but he could tell that somehow, his efforts were not for naut.

Then the man lashed out, as sweep of his arm sending him flying across their makeshift arena to collide with some invisible barrier. Before he could even hit the ground, his foe was already upon him, the sound of fists and feet against him filling the air. Even as the final blow collided, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he had failed.

GAME
OVER

"Fuck!" Charlie dashed the controller against the ground, letting it bounce off the shabby, puke green carpet of his room. He drew in a deep, hissing breath through his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. What was this, the fourth time? The fifth? Some SNK boss bullshit, right here. He could've sworn he had it this time. He glared, for a time, at his own scowling reflection in the glass of his aging CRT television before rising to his feet, wiping imaginary dust from his jeans.

Glancing about the room, his eyes fell on the computer sitting in the corner, a hulking beige relic of the 1990s. Well, "sitting" wasn't really the word he was looking for. Charlie's computer loomed, like a gargoyle clinging fast to a cathedral. Rolling his shoulders, he plopped himself down into the gray office chair, one arm dangling at his side while the other settled onto the mouse. Maybe he could find some decent FAQs for this crap. Not likely, though.