Somarium App
Sep. 11th, 2012 12:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snapcrackleboom[Player Name] Alex
(Also, if you want to address me personally, feminine pronouns!)
[Age] 20
[Personal Journal]![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
novaphase
[Other Characters Currently Played] None!
[Character Name] Roy Mustang
[Age] 30 years
[Canon] Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (& also manga, pretty much)
[Canon Point] During off-scenes preparations for the Promised Day in Episode 45/46.
[Background] What a convenient (and detailed) wiki history!
[Personality] Roy's personality is dichotomized into two distinct parts: how he is and how he acts. He has a reputation for being a rake and a layabout, a narcissist and an opportunist. These are certainly rooted to certain extents of truth in his personality: he has been known to cavort with a fair share of women, he is often known to push off the majority of work onto his subordinates, very few could ever term him as modest, and he's remarkably quick to act when he perceives anything as a window for notoriety (especially considering how slowly he seems to deal with everything else). This image is one that has been carefully constructed, however. If he is commonly perceived as an up-and-comer, but an arrogant and apparently lazy one, he can use this underestimation as leeway to carry out his plans.
And plans are something he has in surplus. A strategist and a manipulator, Roy is alarmingly good at influencing others to fall into line with his plots, even without expressly telling them what they should be doing. He has made a metaphor with his loyal subordinates chess pieces — pawn, bishop, rook, knight, queen — and ones that he moves about the field. This is not to say, however, that he believes any is expendable; Roy is a commander completely devoted to the safety of his subordinates, often at detriment to his own. This has, so far, garnered him a small force of soldiers loyal to him over even the government.
As one might expect of a "Flame Alchemist," Roy is occasionally quite hot-headed. He can face a lot of things with a cynicism and wry humor, but there are certain things — such as any threat to his subordinates — that will set him off. A penchant towards vengeance is also a weakness of his; an example of this was him allowing Edward and Alphonse Elric to fight Scar (a dangerous mass-murderer of alchemists) just for an opportunity to gain any information on who killed Roy's friend Hughes.
Information-gathering and clandestine communication are something that he comes by quite naturally. His foster mother, the proprietor of a Madame Christmas' Bar, uses her business as a front for both of these; he's learned from the best.
At the start of his career, Roy was a textbook idealist. Amestris, a country beset on all sides by belligerent nations, was constantly prone to border disputes. Roy joined the military in order to protect the Amestrian people from the crossfire. This idealism, as it is prone to do when faced with reality, did not last. His position as a State Alchemist was used in the capacity of a human weapon in the Ishvalan War of Extermination, where he was commanded by high command to massacre people who were Amestrian citizens just as the ones that he had promised to protect. His efforts were instrumental in the completion of the slaughter of the Ishvalan people, earning him the title of the "Hero of Ishval." Having become the antithesis of what he intended at his entry into the military, Roy's goals shifted: he set his eyes on the position of Fuhrer. He would protect the Amestrian people, but he would do so through power and authority. Despite seeing himself as a protector, he would be an offensive shield rather than a defensive one.
His part in the Ishval Civil War is a huge factor in his life. He has been — and still sees himself as — a human weapon; in fighting the inhuman homunculi, Roy has stated that "it is in fighting real monsters that he truly feels human."
Despite his intentions for the role of Fuhrer, he has carefully enacted checks on his own ambition; he has given express permission to his lieutenant to kill him if he ever steps from the righteous path. He also has designs to fashion Amestris into a democracy, and one that will charge those that served in the Ishvalan extermination (including himself) for the crimes that they committed.
[Abilities] Transmutational alchemy (requiring an array). Specialty is flame alchemy, which he can use in a weaponized fashion through use of ignition gloves. Also generic military training, so fairly good with firearms (both sidearms and rifles).
[Other Important Stuff] N/A.
[Sample post]
[First Person]
What were you doing before now?
If you plan on keeping this in confidence, I'll say that I was setting into motion a plan that would prevent my entire country from being used as fodder by a group of inhuman beings. If otherwise, I was delivering a van full of flowers to a beautiful woman. Whichever you feel more comfortable in believing.
[He smiles blithely.]
Would you consider yourself a hero or a villain? Why? Neither is an option as well, but still tell why.
[There is a pause as Roy considers his answer.]
Both terms are arbitrary, honestly. I've been honored as a hero and reviled as a criminal for the same action before. I see myself as little more than a human who is striving to be seen one day by most as a hero, and that's as far as I'll go with that.
You have two options: either save your friend who is hanging from a cliff, or chase after the bad guy who put them in a position. If you choose the former, the bad guy will get away and it will be hard to catch him. If you choose the latter, the cliff will crumble and the friend will fall to the spiky rocks below. What do you do and why?
[Answer is immediate.]
I would save my companion. There will be more opportunities to capture the perpetrator, and there will be even more if I have the aid of the person I rescued.
If you could destroy a city, how would you do it?
[There is a significant pause. Roy's eyes have become distant; one might notice a few nervous twitches of his hands. Finally,]
You've got an especially morbid sense of curiosity. I'm sorry, but I'm... not going to answer that question.
There is a cake in the rain. What do you do?
[He waits for a moment. Blinks.]
What do you mean, what do I do? Is the cake someone else's? Did they forget it there? I don't see why they'd want it back — a cake sitting in the rain would be ruined. I'd probably just leave it there. I don't have time to be dealing with things like that.
The blue pill or the red pill?
Okay, now I don't understand what you're saying at all. I'm finished with this.
[He immediately (and somewhat brusquely) moves to leave.]
[Third Person]
It's completely dark when Roy opens his eyes.
He blinks, brows furrow. He must have fallen asleep. It's not exactly unheard of; he had been tirelessly setting into motion preparations for the Promised Day. It's — soon. Today? He must have fallen asleep. He's not even sure where; a soldier learned to pick up a few hours of sleep whenever they could. Was it the apartment, the car, the warehouse? He couldn't tell. A minute or so has passed and his eyes still haven't adjusted.
Where... He appears to be sitting on the ground, back resting against... something. A wall. The air is cool. Underground? Why would I be underground? He doesn't remember going into the tunnels; not yet, anyway.
He is still wearing his gloves, his uniform; he considers igniting a spark so he could see around him but decides against it. Too many unknown factors to go about lighting fire — not just yet, anyway. He struggles to his feet, checking various pockets in his coat. There is his pocketwatch, yes, and... something else. He draws it from his pocket, trying to see it in the gloom. It felt roughly rectangular, a panel of plastic and glass. Purely on accident he activates a button on the side and the screen lights up. "Agh!" He averts the screen away from his eyes, momentarily blinded. When he recovers, he can — from the light of the device — see where he is.
It's a cellar or basement of some type; there are boxes piled high against the walls, leaning precariously against old furniture and crates. Why would he be in a cellar? Was I... captured? He has no memory of that, and whomever might have captured him did a very poor job of it. He still has his gloves, after all. There are no stairs; instead, a nearby ladder that leads up to a panel in the wooden ceiling. He stares at it blankly for a moment — long enough for the light from the device to dim. Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He reaches forward, grabs one of the rungs, and begins to climb.
What he finds when he throws open the trapdoor, hand poised to attack, is not at all what he expected. He faces, down half a hallway, a dining room where three people — a man, woman, and teenage girl — are sitting at dinner. They are all staring at him, wide-eyed and mouths agape, the man with a fork lifted to his lips.
Before he can form a coherent thought, they have rushed forward and grabbed him by the arms, hauling him towards the door while yelling all the way: he only catches fragments such as "sick and tired of this!," something about refugees, and a wayward, "And during dinner, too!"
He's hurled bodily into the street, where he lands with a thump and a groan. The door slams shut behind him. Sitting up, he lifts a hand to his head and looks around. The avenue is faced on both sides with high buildings, all made from stone the color of sand. This isn't— The architecture isn't Amestrian; it certainly isn't Central or East City.
Which begs the question once again: Where am I?
[Why do you want to play this character in Somarium?] I've recently picked back up once again (for the first time since... middle school...) my FMA obsession, and I found myself well in physical need of playing someone somewhere. Inward introspection turned me towards Roy, and poking about turned me towards Somarium!
[Which rule was your favorite and why?] I like the flexibility of the activity requirements. Two thumbs up!
[Where did you hear about Somarium?] ATP! ^_^
[Any questions?] Nope!
(Also, if you want to address me personally, feminine pronouns!)
[Age] 20
[Personal Journal]
novaphase[Other Characters Currently Played] None!
[Character Name] Roy Mustang
[Age] 30 years
[Canon] Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (& also manga, pretty much)
[Canon Point] During off-scenes preparations for the Promised Day in Episode 45/46.
[Background] What a convenient (and detailed) wiki history!
[Personality] Roy's personality is dichotomized into two distinct parts: how he is and how he acts. He has a reputation for being a rake and a layabout, a narcissist and an opportunist. These are certainly rooted to certain extents of truth in his personality: he has been known to cavort with a fair share of women, he is often known to push off the majority of work onto his subordinates, very few could ever term him as modest, and he's remarkably quick to act when he perceives anything as a window for notoriety (especially considering how slowly he seems to deal with everything else). This image is one that has been carefully constructed, however. If he is commonly perceived as an up-and-comer, but an arrogant and apparently lazy one, he can use this underestimation as leeway to carry out his plans.
And plans are something he has in surplus. A strategist and a manipulator, Roy is alarmingly good at influencing others to fall into line with his plots, even without expressly telling them what they should be doing. He has made a metaphor with his loyal subordinates chess pieces — pawn, bishop, rook, knight, queen — and ones that he moves about the field. This is not to say, however, that he believes any is expendable; Roy is a commander completely devoted to the safety of his subordinates, often at detriment to his own. This has, so far, garnered him a small force of soldiers loyal to him over even the government.
As one might expect of a "Flame Alchemist," Roy is occasionally quite hot-headed. He can face a lot of things with a cynicism and wry humor, but there are certain things — such as any threat to his subordinates — that will set him off. A penchant towards vengeance is also a weakness of his; an example of this was him allowing Edward and Alphonse Elric to fight Scar (a dangerous mass-murderer of alchemists) just for an opportunity to gain any information on who killed Roy's friend Hughes.
Information-gathering and clandestine communication are something that he comes by quite naturally. His foster mother, the proprietor of a Madame Christmas' Bar, uses her business as a front for both of these; he's learned from the best.
At the start of his career, Roy was a textbook idealist. Amestris, a country beset on all sides by belligerent nations, was constantly prone to border disputes. Roy joined the military in order to protect the Amestrian people from the crossfire. This idealism, as it is prone to do when faced with reality, did not last. His position as a State Alchemist was used in the capacity of a human weapon in the Ishvalan War of Extermination, where he was commanded by high command to massacre people who were Amestrian citizens just as the ones that he had promised to protect. His efforts were instrumental in the completion of the slaughter of the Ishvalan people, earning him the title of the "Hero of Ishval." Having become the antithesis of what he intended at his entry into the military, Roy's goals shifted: he set his eyes on the position of Fuhrer. He would protect the Amestrian people, but he would do so through power and authority. Despite seeing himself as a protector, he would be an offensive shield rather than a defensive one.
His part in the Ishval Civil War is a huge factor in his life. He has been — and still sees himself as — a human weapon; in fighting the inhuman homunculi, Roy has stated that "it is in fighting real monsters that he truly feels human."
Despite his intentions for the role of Fuhrer, he has carefully enacted checks on his own ambition; he has given express permission to his lieutenant to kill him if he ever steps from the righteous path. He also has designs to fashion Amestris into a democracy, and one that will charge those that served in the Ishvalan extermination (including himself) for the crimes that they committed.
[Abilities] Transmutational alchemy (requiring an array). Specialty is flame alchemy, which he can use in a weaponized fashion through use of ignition gloves. Also generic military training, so fairly good with firearms (both sidearms and rifles).
[Other Important Stuff] N/A.
[Sample post]
[First Person]
What were you doing before now?
If you plan on keeping this in confidence, I'll say that I was setting into motion a plan that would prevent my entire country from being used as fodder by a group of inhuman beings. If otherwise, I was delivering a van full of flowers to a beautiful woman. Whichever you feel more comfortable in believing.
[He smiles blithely.]
Would you consider yourself a hero or a villain? Why? Neither is an option as well, but still tell why.
[There is a pause as Roy considers his answer.]
Both terms are arbitrary, honestly. I've been honored as a hero and reviled as a criminal for the same action before. I see myself as little more than a human who is striving to be seen one day by most as a hero, and that's as far as I'll go with that.
You have two options: either save your friend who is hanging from a cliff, or chase after the bad guy who put them in a position. If you choose the former, the bad guy will get away and it will be hard to catch him. If you choose the latter, the cliff will crumble and the friend will fall to the spiky rocks below. What do you do and why?
[Answer is immediate.]
I would save my companion. There will be more opportunities to capture the perpetrator, and there will be even more if I have the aid of the person I rescued.
If you could destroy a city, how would you do it?
[There is a significant pause. Roy's eyes have become distant; one might notice a few nervous twitches of his hands. Finally,]
You've got an especially morbid sense of curiosity. I'm sorry, but I'm... not going to answer that question.
There is a cake in the rain. What do you do?
[He waits for a moment. Blinks.]
What do you mean, what do I do? Is the cake someone else's? Did they forget it there? I don't see why they'd want it back — a cake sitting in the rain would be ruined. I'd probably just leave it there. I don't have time to be dealing with things like that.
The blue pill or the red pill?
Okay, now I don't understand what you're saying at all. I'm finished with this.
[He immediately (and somewhat brusquely) moves to leave.]
[Third Person]
It's completely dark when Roy opens his eyes.
He blinks, brows furrow. He must have fallen asleep. It's not exactly unheard of; he had been tirelessly setting into motion preparations for the Promised Day. It's — soon. Today? He must have fallen asleep. He's not even sure where; a soldier learned to pick up a few hours of sleep whenever they could. Was it the apartment, the car, the warehouse? He couldn't tell. A minute or so has passed and his eyes still haven't adjusted.
Where... He appears to be sitting on the ground, back resting against... something. A wall. The air is cool. Underground? Why would I be underground? He doesn't remember going into the tunnels; not yet, anyway.
He is still wearing his gloves, his uniform; he considers igniting a spark so he could see around him but decides against it. Too many unknown factors to go about lighting fire — not just yet, anyway. He struggles to his feet, checking various pockets in his coat. There is his pocketwatch, yes, and... something else. He draws it from his pocket, trying to see it in the gloom. It felt roughly rectangular, a panel of plastic and glass. Purely on accident he activates a button on the side and the screen lights up. "Agh!" He averts the screen away from his eyes, momentarily blinded. When he recovers, he can — from the light of the device — see where he is.
It's a cellar or basement of some type; there are boxes piled high against the walls, leaning precariously against old furniture and crates. Why would he be in a cellar? Was I... captured? He has no memory of that, and whomever might have captured him did a very poor job of it. He still has his gloves, after all. There are no stairs; instead, a nearby ladder that leads up to a panel in the wooden ceiling. He stares at it blankly for a moment — long enough for the light from the device to dim. Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He reaches forward, grabs one of the rungs, and begins to climb.
What he finds when he throws open the trapdoor, hand poised to attack, is not at all what he expected. He faces, down half a hallway, a dining room where three people — a man, woman, and teenage girl — are sitting at dinner. They are all staring at him, wide-eyed and mouths agape, the man with a fork lifted to his lips.
Before he can form a coherent thought, they have rushed forward and grabbed him by the arms, hauling him towards the door while yelling all the way: he only catches fragments such as "sick and tired of this!," something about refugees, and a wayward, "And during dinner, too!"
He's hurled bodily into the street, where he lands with a thump and a groan. The door slams shut behind him. Sitting up, he lifts a hand to his head and looks around. The avenue is faced on both sides with high buildings, all made from stone the color of sand. This isn't— The architecture isn't Amestrian; it certainly isn't Central or East City.
Which begs the question once again: Where am I?
[Why do you want to play this character in Somarium?] I've recently picked back up once again (for the first time since... middle school...) my FMA obsession, and I found myself well in physical need of playing someone somewhere. Inward introspection turned me towards Roy, and poking about turned me towards Somarium!
[Which rule was your favorite and why?] I like the flexibility of the activity requirements. Two thumbs up!
[Where did you hear about Somarium?] ATP! ^_^
[Any questions?] Nope!
