I'm definitely in this (if you still have spots for me), I'm running out of stuff like this.
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An Atom Trying to Understand Itself
STATUS: Why am I bothering to update the status anyway? No one's gonna care 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Why am I bothering to update the status anyway? No one's gonna care
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8 yrs ago
"Remember to look at the stars not down at your feet." Inspired me ever since. Rest in peace Professor Hawking
9 yrs ago
I don't know why, but the boredom is killing me slowly
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Interested as well
Actually, the interest's title pretty much shows the era of the RP, something in which the actual RP post did not mention.
Anyway, don't mind me. I'm just a math majoring student who was just looking a bit too carefully and too detailed. ;-;
Anyway, don't mind me. I'm just a math majoring student who was just looking a bit too carefully and too detailed. ;-;
Didn't realize how many references I placed there when I write him
Name: Arthur Reyes
Age: 34.
Appearance:
Physically speaking, Arthur is not impressive, with a height of 165 centimeters, shorter than his country's standard. Like his peers, who favours dandyism as a fashion trend, Arthur's appearance is considered extravagant, yet unnecessary. He is usually seen wearing a jacket, with seven red horizontal stripes that extend to the edge of the front of the jacket, each crossing through a button. His pants is also slightly decorated with red embellishment, to match with the color of his jacket. His hair was jet black and neat. Arthur also has heterochromia iridum, where his left eye was as dark as night, while the other as blue as sky.
Backstory:
Born a descendant of a once very powerful medieval nobleman, Arthur is expected by many to be inheriting the family's tradition of becoming a governor of a Northern town that he was born and raised in. Yet, Arthur, from the age of 14, already had a different, a bigger vision of his future. Carrying the noble blood in him, Arthur, aside from studying academic subjects, was taught manners, politics and leadership, but Arthur was more interested in industrial economy. He was considered a complete outcast both at home and at school, for he was obsessed with the pursue of knowledge about entrepreneurship , something in which he and his parents often argued against, sometimes leading to serious conflicts. He was considered an exceptional student during his teenage years and was prematurely offered the chance to enroll in some of the most pretigious universities.
Despite having disagreements and relationship-shattering conflicts, Arthur was finally able to convince his father about his future. On one occasion when his father was dealing with a significant economy problem concerning a sudden cancellation of a mining contract, resulting in losses of money. Arthur, who was coincidentally at his father's office and understood the circumstances, asked his father to deal with the situation, which he eventually managed. In the letter his father sent him afterwards, in which Arthur kept with him until today, his father had actually wept with joy as he told his son to find his own "empire" that was big enough for his vision, for this land was too small for him. It was at that moment when his parents decided not to interfere with his son's decisions any longer
When he finally graduated from high school however, Arthur decided not to enter the many universities that sent him offers and scholarships to enroll in, and instead chose to be tutored at home by Aria, a young professor at Harsen University, who is also a friend of his father, known for her brilliance in the economy's philosophy. Arthur enjoyed Aria's tutelages, and, during the process, developed a passion for her work about the relationship between economy and industry. Aria gave him a shortened copy of her book, something which Arthur had always carried with him.
Arthur's education with Aria ended after five years, and he soon established his own company called Artem when he was 25, using the foundation of an old disbanded company. Initially a local mining company, but with Arthur's brilliance in leadership and economy, the realm of his corporation soon expanded to a quarter of his country. The varieties of industries also expanded, with ship-buildings, logistics, automobiles and the most recently, aviations joined the branch of Artem's products.
In just nearly 35 years, Arthur had earned good money and had achieved things that most people couldn't in a lifetime, but that did not satisfy his ambitions. He was still aiming for more and more...
Inventory:
Pocket watch: Contains a picture, taken with his tutor, Professor Aria, who he had come to greatly respect for her inspiration.
Philosophy book: The copy that Aria gave him a few years ago, which he still kept with him inside his jacket.
His father's letter: More like only one line in that letter. The one that has driven him to become who he is today.
Intro/Sample Post:
"You must find an empire big enough for your own vision."
That line. That sentence.
It had already been over a decade since it was first written, and yet Arthur could feel it as brand new as the tip of the pen was just being lifted from the letter. It was the first time his father had actually cried in joy for him, for a man who disregarded his family's traditions to pursue his own ambitions. It was the thing that had driven him to become such a successful young man as he was today, to become someone who had accomplished things that people could not in their lifetime.
He was grateful. Truly grateful. But somehow, he did not feel satisfied yet.
He wanted more.
Arthur folded the letter in four as he put it away in his jacket pocket, as he noticed something strange. He had not seen the area before. Arthur looked out of the window of his car, out to the cold and rainy sky. Through his vague and groggy vision, he barely managed to grasp the name on the metal fence in front of the car.
Revianne Solaire
What is this? How come a mansion exists here? The road can't have ended this early.
There was only one explanation for this: He was lost.
"Geez, I'm gonna be late for the contract signing. Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask these people the direction."
Arthur put on his jacket and exited the car, into the rain. For some reasons, the air around the mansion felt...frighteningly cold. He wondered if it was his imagination or by the rain, but he could feel his interior temperature drop as he knocked on the door, twice. A few moments later, a young, petite woman, with a notable scar on her face, was seen walking out of the door, greeting Arthur.
"Good evening ma'am. I am on my way to the Rasford household. Do you mind if you can show me th-"
It was at that moment that it struck him. Something. Something he could not figure out.
His ears began to ring like hell, like a drill was being operated on it. His head pounded as if a hammer was being brought down on him.
Arthur instinctively clinched his head with his two hands, but it was too late. When he realized it, he was on the muddy ground, and everything he saw was darkness.
Others: N/A
Name: Arthur Reyes
Age: 34.
Appearance:
Physically speaking, Arthur is not impressive, with a height of 165 centimeters, shorter than his country's standard. Like his peers, who favours dandyism as a fashion trend, Arthur's appearance is considered extravagant, yet unnecessary. He is usually seen wearing a jacket, with seven red horizontal stripes that extend to the edge of the front of the jacket, each crossing through a button. His pants is also slightly decorated with red embellishment, to match with the color of his jacket. His hair was jet black and neat. Arthur also has heterochromia iridum, where his left eye was as dark as night, while the other as blue as sky.
Backstory:
Born a descendant of a once very powerful medieval nobleman, Arthur is expected by many to be inheriting the family's tradition of becoming a governor of a Northern town that he was born and raised in. Yet, Arthur, from the age of 14, already had a different, a bigger vision of his future. Carrying the noble blood in him, Arthur, aside from studying academic subjects, was taught manners, politics and leadership, but Arthur was more interested in industrial economy. He was considered a complete outcast both at home and at school, for he was obsessed with the pursue of knowledge about entrepreneurship , something in which he and his parents often argued against, sometimes leading to serious conflicts. He was considered an exceptional student during his teenage years and was prematurely offered the chance to enroll in some of the most pretigious universities.
Despite having disagreements and relationship-shattering conflicts, Arthur was finally able to convince his father about his future. On one occasion when his father was dealing with a significant economy problem concerning a sudden cancellation of a mining contract, resulting in losses of money. Arthur, who was coincidentally at his father's office and understood the circumstances, asked his father to deal with the situation, which he eventually managed. In the letter his father sent him afterwards, in which Arthur kept with him until today, his father had actually wept with joy as he told his son to find his own "empire" that was big enough for his vision, for this land was too small for him. It was at that moment when his parents decided not to interfere with his son's decisions any longer
When he finally graduated from high school however, Arthur decided not to enter the many universities that sent him offers and scholarships to enroll in, and instead chose to be tutored at home by Aria, a young professor at Harsen University, who is also a friend of his father, known for her brilliance in the economy's philosophy. Arthur enjoyed Aria's tutelages, and, during the process, developed a passion for her work about the relationship between economy and industry. Aria gave him a shortened copy of her book, something which Arthur had always carried with him.
Arthur's education with Aria ended after five years, and he soon established his own company called Artem when he was 25, using the foundation of an old disbanded company. Initially a local mining company, but with Arthur's brilliance in leadership and economy, the realm of his corporation soon expanded to a quarter of his country. The varieties of industries also expanded, with ship-buildings, logistics, automobiles and the most recently, aviations joined the branch of Artem's products.
In just nearly 35 years, Arthur had earned good money and had achieved things that most people couldn't in a lifetime, but that did not satisfy his ambitions. He was still aiming for more and more...
Inventory:
Pocket watch: Contains a picture, taken with his tutor, Professor Aria, who he had come to greatly respect for her inspiration.
Philosophy book: The copy that Aria gave him a few years ago, which he still kept with him inside his jacket.
His father's letter: More like only one line in that letter. The one that has driven him to become who he is today.
Intro/Sample Post:
"You must find an empire big enough for your own vision."
That line. That sentence.
It had already been over a decade since it was first written, and yet Arthur could feel it as brand new as the tip of the pen was just being lifted from the letter. It was the first time his father had actually cried in joy for him, for a man who disregarded his family's traditions to pursue his own ambitions. It was the thing that had driven him to become such a successful young man as he was today, to become someone who had accomplished things that people could not in their lifetime.
He was grateful. Truly grateful. But somehow, he did not feel satisfied yet.
He wanted more.
Arthur folded the letter in four as he put it away in his jacket pocket, as he noticed something strange. He had not seen the area before. Arthur looked out of the window of his car, out to the cold and rainy sky. Through his vague and groggy vision, he barely managed to grasp the name on the metal fence in front of the car.
Revianne Solaire
What is this? How come a mansion exists here? The road can't have ended this early.
There was only one explanation for this: He was lost.
"Geez, I'm gonna be late for the contract signing. Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask these people the direction."
Arthur put on his jacket and exited the car, into the rain. For some reasons, the air around the mansion felt...frighteningly cold. He wondered if it was his imagination or by the rain, but he could feel his interior temperature drop as he knocked on the door, twice. A few moments later, a young, petite woman, with a notable scar on her face, was seen walking out of the door, greeting Arthur.
"Good evening ma'am. I am on my way to the Rasford household. Do you mind if you can show me th-"
It was at that moment that it struck him. Something. Something he could not figure out.
His ears began to ring like hell, like a drill was being operated on it. His head pounded as if a hammer was being brought down on him.
Arthur instinctively clinched his head with his two hands, but it was too late. When he realized it, he was on the muddy ground, and everything he saw was darkness.
Others: N/A
Whoops, my mistake, it's late 19th century, not late 20th (God I hate the numbers). I have two characters in mind, a chairman of a multi-industrial corporation (Mitsubishi inspired), and a zeppelin pilot. But since zeppelins are made in the 1920s so I guess I'll stick with the chairman. But thanks anyway
Interested as well.
The RP description said that the town would have been forgotten if it hadn't been for the coal mine...of a rising Industrial Age. So I assume it takes place during the Industrial Revolution from 1760 to 1840. But in the interest check it says that it is victorian, so it can be from 1837 to 1901. I am a bit confused here, and because my character is a pretty late 20th century character so I may have to alter the content to match with the era
Alright. I'll be making my CS during my two hours plane trip. Then I'll post it on the OOC for consideration before onto the character section, is that ok?
"We will begin decelerating from light speed. Since there is no artificial gravity well in the area, we can only hope that it will not jump straight into the disabled Nomad fleet."
Said the young navigator on the Scythian, who bore a concerning attitude at the precision of the jump. His worries were reasonable actually, as ships normally did not have to manually stop like this. They would freely jump into the outer rear of the planet's atmosphere, and the planet's gravity would decelerate them automatically, or they would have ships that can generate artificial gravity wells if the designated planet did not have gravity. But the UWG could not afford a ship like that, as around ninety percent of these ships were destroyed. Among the remaining ten percent, almost half were damaged, and required repairs. The reason for such statistics could not be simpler: the Nomad.
The Nomad, an unknown entity originated from a large desert planet, was the main cause of all the atrocities during the last thirty years. They were an organized space fleet, whose commanding elite was not yet known, possessing spaceships with sizes ranging from a small town to a megacity, all boasting with weapons of mass destruction. There was literally no way to stop them. They had more powerful weapons, they were more intelligent, and there numbers were overwhelming. They are stronger than the UWG in EVERY way. To be honest, being able to hold out against them for nearly 27 years was considered by many to be a great achievement. And yet, miraculously, they lost, while they were on the brink of victory. The strong Nomad fleet suddenly went offline, and they were doomed to float around listlessly. Now they were nothing different from a bunch of scrap metals floating in space.
"Decelerate faster. Better stop sooner than later."
Replied the thirty six years old Lieutenant Nelson Schor, the second in command of the ship. Donning a blue officer uniform decorated by a pair of golden epaulettes and all the medals he had achieved, the shaggy-haired man with a long scar on his right eye calmly gave the order to the navigator, as he tried to hide the dissatisfaction that he had within him.
"Tell the one in charge to begin preparations as accordingly as it was planned. Make the effort, we don't have spare time for this."
"Yes sir!" The navigator saluted as he left Nelson's personal quarter.
The young Lieutenant sighed as he watched the navigator file out of his room. He shouldn't be here. On this small, lowly cargo ship, as second in command. Second in command! He should have, at the very least, be first in command, not second. He had commandeered a small battleship before, so why not this?! He could not understand. What were the Naval Intelligence thinking when they assigned him to this?
Nelson was a young yet seasoned naval commander who had participated in several major battles against the Nomad, a few of them were victories. And yet, he did not take part in the final battle above Earth's atmosphere, as his sickly body decided that he should not by torturing him with a disease that effectively knocked him out of action for a whole year. He only recovered since last month, and was allowed to discharge five days ago. If he had been out three days sooner, then it would be different. Nelson soon returned to service, but was unsure if he could retain his rank as Lieutenant, so he contacted his friend, Alexander Mahan, who was a fleet admiral. And he met him, personally, a day later. Nelson could remember it very clearly.
XXX
"Alright Nelson, I have ensured that your rank will be reinstated...But on one condition."
Condition? Alexander had never made conditions with him before.
"That you would participate in an expedition in the Molyneux system, onboard the UWG Scythian, as its second in command."
The UWG Scythian?
That's a cargo ship. Why the hell would you send a military commander to command a cargo ship?
"What do you mean Alexander? You're assigning me to a cargo ship?"
"Yes." Alexander replied bluntly.
"Are you serious?! I don't believe that you would send me on such a mission!" Nelson suddenly snapped at the fleet admiral, totally disregarding the ranking systems here. If he wasn't his friend, Nelson would be likely in jail right now.
Alexander noticed his friend's dissatisfaction, and replied, with an unusually calm voice.
"Your beliefs are true. I did not send you there. The Naval Intelligence did. I was just being the interchange between it and you to deliver the order."
"Then you know what? I'm going to talk this out with them personally." Nelson was excruciatingly pissed, as he stood up and tried to leave.
"Nelson. Let me tell you something." Alexander stood up as well, stopping the impulsive Lieutenant with the same calm and composed tone.
"I know you deserve to be assigned more significant mission, but are you up to such a task?" The tone was also challenging and calculative
"Of course I am."
"Then prove that you are still worthy of not just being Lieutenant but also being a leader itself. Not to me, but to 'them'."
XXX
He still did not know how this will prove his worth. But as Alexander said that, his vanity resurfaced, and he found himself reluctantly accepting it.
Nelson sank back onto his chair as the scenarios began to unravel in front of his quarter's windows. Less than thirty minutes later, the ship had began to move into RX3248's orbit, and was awaiting docking permission.
"Well, there's no reason to stay here."
He's second in command. Not first. He was given more freedom of movement than his captain. And when given such freedom, there was no reason to stay behind. It, firstly, was boring. More importantly when placed in a commanding position where he must supervise, a commander should be right where the process was happening. This applied to all scenarios, both combat and non-combat.
Nelson stood up from his chair, and filed out of his room, heading towards the ship's boarding quarter.
Said the young navigator on the Scythian, who bore a concerning attitude at the precision of the jump. His worries were reasonable actually, as ships normally did not have to manually stop like this. They would freely jump into the outer rear of the planet's atmosphere, and the planet's gravity would decelerate them automatically, or they would have ships that can generate artificial gravity wells if the designated planet did not have gravity. But the UWG could not afford a ship like that, as around ninety percent of these ships were destroyed. Among the remaining ten percent, almost half were damaged, and required repairs. The reason for such statistics could not be simpler: the Nomad.
The Nomad, an unknown entity originated from a large desert planet, was the main cause of all the atrocities during the last thirty years. They were an organized space fleet, whose commanding elite was not yet known, possessing spaceships with sizes ranging from a small town to a megacity, all boasting with weapons of mass destruction. There was literally no way to stop them. They had more powerful weapons, they were more intelligent, and there numbers were overwhelming. They are stronger than the UWG in EVERY way. To be honest, being able to hold out against them for nearly 27 years was considered by many to be a great achievement. And yet, miraculously, they lost, while they were on the brink of victory. The strong Nomad fleet suddenly went offline, and they were doomed to float around listlessly. Now they were nothing different from a bunch of scrap metals floating in space.
"Decelerate faster. Better stop sooner than later."
Replied the thirty six years old Lieutenant Nelson Schor, the second in command of the ship. Donning a blue officer uniform decorated by a pair of golden epaulettes and all the medals he had achieved, the shaggy-haired man with a long scar on his right eye calmly gave the order to the navigator, as he tried to hide the dissatisfaction that he had within him.
"Tell the one in charge to begin preparations as accordingly as it was planned. Make the effort, we don't have spare time for this."
"Yes sir!" The navigator saluted as he left Nelson's personal quarter.
The young Lieutenant sighed as he watched the navigator file out of his room. He shouldn't be here. On this small, lowly cargo ship, as second in command. Second in command! He should have, at the very least, be first in command, not second. He had commandeered a small battleship before, so why not this?! He could not understand. What were the Naval Intelligence thinking when they assigned him to this?
Nelson was a young yet seasoned naval commander who had participated in several major battles against the Nomad, a few of them were victories. And yet, he did not take part in the final battle above Earth's atmosphere, as his sickly body decided that he should not by torturing him with a disease that effectively knocked him out of action for a whole year. He only recovered since last month, and was allowed to discharge five days ago. If he had been out three days sooner, then it would be different. Nelson soon returned to service, but was unsure if he could retain his rank as Lieutenant, so he contacted his friend, Alexander Mahan, who was a fleet admiral. And he met him, personally, a day later. Nelson could remember it very clearly.
XXX
"Alright Nelson, I have ensured that your rank will be reinstated...But on one condition."
Condition? Alexander had never made conditions with him before.
"That you would participate in an expedition in the Molyneux system, onboard the UWG Scythian, as its second in command."
The UWG Scythian?
That's a cargo ship. Why the hell would you send a military commander to command a cargo ship?
"What do you mean Alexander? You're assigning me to a cargo ship?"
"Yes." Alexander replied bluntly.
"Are you serious?! I don't believe that you would send me on such a mission!" Nelson suddenly snapped at the fleet admiral, totally disregarding the ranking systems here. If he wasn't his friend, Nelson would be likely in jail right now.
Alexander noticed his friend's dissatisfaction, and replied, with an unusually calm voice.
"Your beliefs are true. I did not send you there. The Naval Intelligence did. I was just being the interchange between it and you to deliver the order."
"Then you know what? I'm going to talk this out with them personally." Nelson was excruciatingly pissed, as he stood up and tried to leave.
"Nelson. Let me tell you something." Alexander stood up as well, stopping the impulsive Lieutenant with the same calm and composed tone.
"I know you deserve to be assigned more significant mission, but are you up to such a task?" The tone was also challenging and calculative
"Of course I am."
"Then prove that you are still worthy of not just being Lieutenant but also being a leader itself. Not to me, but to 'them'."
XXX
He still did not know how this will prove his worth. But as Alexander said that, his vanity resurfaced, and he found himself reluctantly accepting it.
Nelson sank back onto his chair as the scenarios began to unravel in front of his quarter's windows. Less than thirty minutes later, the ship had began to move into RX3248's orbit, and was awaiting docking permission.
"Well, there's no reason to stay here."
He's second in command. Not first. He was given more freedom of movement than his captain. And when given such freedom, there was no reason to stay behind. It, firstly, was boring. More importantly when placed in a commanding position where he must supervise, a commander should be right where the process was happening. This applied to all scenarios, both combat and non-combat.
Nelson stood up from his chair, and filed out of his room, heading towards the ship's boarding quarter.
Looks interesting. I will keep an eye for this. Although I would prefer if you check the spellings and grammars of your post. If more people joins, I will consider joining as well
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