A familiar sense of regret and dread sunk into Simon's core before the smoke even stopped flowing from the gun nozzle. He couldn't help but think that maybe he was too hasty, and too harsh. That shoulder shot was a nasty one after all. Not that anyone could tell he was remorseful from his stance. It was an odd sight, a large, bulky man cowering behind the gun he just used to shoot someone down. What would likely cause even more suspicion was the fact that his horse, Cecilia, had not even flinched at the noise. Which made it apparent that the horse had heard quite a bit of gunfire to become so well adjusted to the sound. Simon's mustache twitched as he holstered his six shooter.
He let out an incredibly unbecoming yelp as a woman he hadn't even noticed complimented his shooting. Simon had been so focused on the shot that she had walked over to the scene without him noticing. How long had she been there? Did she know that Simon was planning on running away from the scene like a coward at first? He couldn't be certain, which filled him with more nervous energy. Simon barely managed to get out a "Uh, thanks." before she was scaring away the thugs. Despite none of her intensity being directed at Simon, he still felt rather intimidated.
The next thing Simon knew, the incredibly terrifying short man was being hoisted up onto his feet by the aggressive woman. Did shootouts usually conclude this quick? Was Simon just rusty? He felt like this was a bit abnormal, but didn't want to be rude even in his thoughts, so he decided that no, he was just being antsy. Simon crouched down to pick up Cecilia's reigns, and got back to his feet just in time for the terrifying short man to turn to him and compliment his shooting.
Two compliments in such a short span of time was overwhelming to Simon, which was why he responded with total silence. He did manage to actually choke out another "ᵁʰ, ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ." in an unintentionally quiet voice, but the terrifying short man had already turned away from him by that point, and introduced himself to the aggressive woman as Donny Brando. He would definitely keep his ears trained for that name when the race was underway, best to be cautious around someone who reminded Simon so much of a badger.
Figuring his good deed of the day was done, and being intimidated by the confidence of the two people nearby, Simon decided it was time to withdraw coolly. After all, Simon prided himself on his ability to get a read on people, and despite both of them being friendly he was getting some seriously dangerous vibes from them, as if they were so chaotic they'd end up unintentionally causing him a great deal of stress. Was this almost 100% just Simon's paranoia? Yeah. But he had lasted this long by trusting that paranoia.
Simon attempts to lead Cecilia away from the saloon, hopefully without drawing any attention to himself. Though, that was unlikely given the fact that absolutely nothing about Simon was subtle. In fact, he wasn't even quiet about his attempted departure, his saddlebag was rattling with each step Cecilia took. Damn, definitely shouldn't have taken those spoons.
Hindsight 20/20, running frantically through the streets was absolutely not a sound strategy. He was fast, really fast, but not fast enough to cover that much ground alone. Thankfully, Dan got a pretty blatant 'hint' at where he should head next. A great deal of shooting was going down by the port, apparent by the sound of a helluva lot of gunfire. Some of Dan's men had been sent towards the port, hopefully that wasn't the sound of them shooting. Regardless, he decided to head that way.
So, one detour later and Dan was hauling his cape-hidden ass towards the port. He had an expression of laser-focused determination, his mind totally clear. The focus was necessary to perform one of the more complex abilities of his 'curse.' His skin began to distort, several areas becoming raised and bumped, as if things were trying to breach the surface of his body. Yet it didn't seem to bother him whatsoever. After all, he was merely creating his weapons of choice.
Dan had always prided himself on his exceptional time management, which was why it didn't take him too long to realize the situation as he peeled out from around a corner, and arrived at the port. A duo of clearly Devil Fruit powered individuals dueling at the docks, and a gunner getting involved in said brawl. Were they involved with the missing Prince? Or was this a separate issue?
His attention was drawn away from the trio to the ship with a Jolly Roger currently leaving the docks. He couldn't say for certain, but Dan would gamble a guess that if the Prince was anywhere nearby, he was probably on board that ship. Dammit, he definitely couldn't deal with both things at once. Dan proceeds to charge by the people fighting. It was important to deal with them too, but he could do that after stopping the ship. "Turn yourselves in for public disturbance and whatever crimes you've caused while fighting! Or you'll be in serious trouble!" He shouts at the trio by the docks, dropping several handcuffs while running by. Did Dan expect them to actually put on the cuffs? No. But it never hurt to try.
By the time he reached the edge, two large ceramic plates emerged from the bottom of his feet, they immediately float upwards, levitating Dan above the water. The plates burst forward, with Dan riding them towards the escaping Pirate Ship. His skin continued to bulge unpleasantly all across his body, given the fact that he just generated dinner plates, it could be assumed that he was preparing something (or several things) else.
Would you guys consider the brawl at the docks to be blatant enough to draw attention? I'd like to be able to show up, but will not do so if it's unreasonable for my character to notice this big fight.
It was immensely upsetting to Dan that he couldn't find any pretty flowers that could survive on Alabasta. He had been here for three months thus far, and it took the first two for him to give up and resort to cacti. Which weren't nearly as easy to trim.
Every day he was forced to trim the decorative cacti in front of the base was a day he suspected the transfer was a punishment more than a promotion. Granted, nobody asked him to trim the cacti, but nobody else did it, and he didn't want them to start looking messy. Dammit, that was definitely why nobody else trimmed them. They knew Dan would do it despite complaining.
Halfway through his daily pruning of the cacti, a Seaman Recruit by the name of slim- Dan tried to remember the name of all his men -ran up to him, huffing for breath. "Commander Dishes, sir! We've got a report from the capital!" He declared frantically. Dan let out an exhale. The capital never really called for much of anything. They preferred leaving things to the royal guards, instead of involving the Marines. Which meant this was a big deal. "Well? What's the report, soldier?" His voice was level as always, Dan hoped it would give his men a feeling of confidence.
"W-well, sir..we've just gotten word that..Prince Vivian has been kidnapped."
"W-HUHHH?!?!?!?!" Dan declared unprofessionally, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Inform the men to divide themselves into searching parties to look for the missing Prince! Have a squadron of them head to the docks to ensure no one leaves the island until he's found!" With his orders given, Dan rushes off in search of the missing Prince. It was not strategically sound to run off alone, but Dan knew if the Prince got kidnapped on his watch, he'd be in deep trouble until he was gotten back. Dan decided while running frantically through the city that the best place to check would, of course, be the local bar. Where criminals and rumors alike gathered.
Saying that the day was off to a bad start would have been an understatement. Simon had ridden in late last night, gotten his number, and immediately passed out once he got himself a room at the local inn. All without looking at what his number was. The moment he woke up, Simon had grabbed his saddle cloth, intending to fasten it to Cecilia's saddle after breakfast. Which was when he saw it. 1313. Not only had he gotten the unluckiest number to exist, he had gotten it twice.
Which was why, currently, Simon found himself wandering around town, leading Cecilia behind him. He was desperate to find someone who would trade numbers with him. In truth, Simon was not entirely sure it was legal to trade numbers, but he knew he couldn't race with numbers as bad as the ones he had. It was practically suicidal. To make matters worse, the fact that he was leading around his horse made people even more wary of him, as if he had something planned. In truth the only reason he hadn't left Cecilia in the stables was because he feared a devious racer might try to harm rival horses.
The first few people Simon asked responded with expected answers, a great deal of variations of the phrase 'fuck off.' Sometimes followed by the word 'pardner.' Yet still, he was undeterred. Well, actually he was very deterred. He didn't want to get yelled at again, but after weighing the benefits in his head, figured that being yelled at was a better fate than being stuck with 1313.
Simon's train of thought was soon derailed by the sound of glass shattering. Unfortunately for him, his fight or flight reflex wasn't able to activate in time, due to him being quite near the source of the noise. It was the saloon, which was..not particularly surprising. Years of being a policeman meant Simon had seen a lot of bar fights go south.
Of course, he wasn't a policeman anymore, so it really wasn't any of his business. Which was why Simon ignored how the short and terrifying blonde was throwing himself around like a human battering ram, and why he continued to ignore the scene even as said terrifying blonde man was stomped into the ground.
Simon merely kept walking, his feet literally shaking in his boots with every step. It wasn't until he heard the person currently stomping the crap out of the shorter man declare "Why ain't you stayin' down!? Dammit.." In response to the fact that his victim wouldn't cease struggling, that Simon paused in his hasty escape. The sound of the bar fighter drawing a gun from a holster finally convinced Simon to whirl around. Did this ruffian really plan on shooting someone during a simple bar fight?
As said ruffian attempted to line up his shot despite being a bit off-balance from the beatings he received, Simon's hand ghosted over towards his holster. The moment he realized it wasn't an empty threat, and this guy really did plan on shooting someone, Simon sprung into action. His arm moved with practiced ease, sliding his trusty six-shooter out of the holster and pointing it dead ahead. His other arm temporarily dropped the reigns of Cecilia, and moved to pull the hammer back.
Simon was trembling and sweating, but his hands didn't shake even a bit. He squeezed the trigger, and BANG! The shot rang out, and the bullet tore through the unfortunate goon's shoulder. Forcing him to drop the gun, and knocking him right onto his back. "Y-um, y'really shouldn't go around tryin' ta shoot people. It just ain't right." Simon declares, attempting to lecture the person he literally just shot in the back.
"The victor will always be the one who is better prepared!"
Name: Simon Garfunkel
Aliases: The Skittish Sharpshooter of Salt Lake City. "Bad Luck Simon."
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Origin: Utah Territory, Salt Lake City.
Abilities: Simon's title is not a misleading one. Despite his timid, nervous nature, he is a serious dead shot. His talent with a gun is that of a gunslinger. The time it takes for Simon to draw his six shooter from its' holster is impressive. And despite being a nervous wreck, the only part of his body that never shakes or trembles are his hands. Steady aim and quick reflexes aside, Simon struggles when it comes to larger-scale gun fights, due to his mental fortitude and quick shooting not being equal to his steady aim and quick drawing talent.
Of course, that isn't all Simon is capable of. A strange skill he's picked up on is sleight of hand. He's never once performed as a stage magician, card shark, or anything of the sort, but despite that Simon has a knack for misdirection and tricks. He tends to use this talent to pocket seemingly mundane objects 'for later use.'
Simon is built like a tank. He's big and bulky, and thus is pretty physically imposing. But he doesn't actually know how to fight. He can carry stuff, take a beating, and has pretty good stamina, but in an actual brawl despite all that bulk he's pretty much dead weight. A meat shield at best.
When it comes to survival skills, Simon knows basic first-aid, and can cook exactly one meal. A sandwich.
Appearance: Simon is a bulky, muscular guy with an imposing frame that stretches his suit. He stands at about six feet tall, and weighs 172 lbs. While his upper body is garbed in fancy clothing, somewhere between a cowboy and a magician, Simon wears a pair of old, pale brown riding pants, and cowboy boots that have seen better days. Simon's jacket houses a great deal of pockets and pouches for him to store things in, furthering his unintentional stage magician appearance.
Personality: Simon's large, imposing frame is contrasted immensely by his personality. He's incredibly soft-spoken and timid, seemingly neurotic in his paranoia. He's so overly cautious that he's developed kleptomania, snatching useless trinkets and keeping them 'just in case' they ever become useful. His cowardice is so great, that despite being a former policeman, Simon's first reaction when he sees danger, or criminal activity is to ensure he's nowhere near it in order to avoid getting hurt.
If his paranoid and timid nature weren't enough, Simon is also a strong believer in the concept of luck, making him terrified of things such as black cats, nervous around ladders, and strategically evasive, lest he step on a crack. He also carries around a rabbit's foot.
While he is, quite frankly, a neurotic mess, Simon is also a very morally driven person. He treats everyone as kind as possible, provided they are kind to him. Simon has a very firm, stable voice and somehow has a calming presence despite never being calm himself. He's the type of person to give off a happy-sad vibe at all times. Giving watery half-smiles and attempting to get others to look on the bright side. Declaring "At least you aren't me." is his standard form of comfort, and there's not even a hint of sarcasm in it.
When Simon gets frantic, he doesn't end up shouting, or getting angry. Instead his voice goes up an octave, and he begins talking fast and frantically, performing swift hand motions and in general losing his cool. Most strategy goes out the window the moment Simon gets this way, and he ends up stressing others out with his spastic attitude.
Short Biography: Simon was born and raised by a fairly poor family in Salt Lake City. He grew up surrounded by Mormons, as the city was, after all, created by them to be a sanctuary of sorts. Despite being born to a Mormon family, and being surrounded by like-minded people, Simon was never the religious type. The only thing he believed in was Lady Luck. Unfortunately for him, he seemed to have been born with bad luck. Tripping over rocks that he didn't notice, forgetting to tie his shoes, biting his cheek while eating, and rain falling the moment he went outside to play were only some of the things that happened to him nearly constantly.
This shaped Simon's life going forward. His life goal was one he decided on early. He desired to be in an environment that did not require caution. Everything was too dangerous, and Simon needed to fix that. As a kid, this translated to a very simple concept. If he joined the police force, he would be able to keep the area safe. Despite being a nervous kid, Simon was determined in his youth. He grew up tough, working out whenever possible. When he reached adulthood, Simon began training for the force. He was eventually accepted in his early 20s, and was made a mounted officer due to his soft-spoken, timid nature making him better with the horses than most.
Things spiraled from there. Simon found himself terrified of every single criminal, no matter how minor the crime. His deft shooting was enough to compensate for this whenever a criminal turned out to actually be violent, but his track record of letting criminals go was pretty bad. So bad, in fact, that Simon was given an ultimatum. If another crook escaped because he hesitated, he was out.
As if fate itself decided to mock Simon, the next crook was a bandit on horseback. He came in, guns blazing, stole what he could, and rode out. Simon pursued, along with several other officers. The chase was long and grueling, taking them so far, that they ended up in the Sevier Desert. By this point the bandit was getting antsy, and everyone was exhausted. So he started shooting. Simon's fellow officers fell, and he kept riding.
During this chase, neither party noticed that they had passed into some strange canyon. A legendary location known as the Devil's Palm. With their horses unable to take any more riding, Simon faced off with the bandit. Their confrontation ended in nearly an instant. The bandit with a slug through the stomach, and Simon with one through the shoulder. Simon attempted to leave, only to find himself horribly lost. He wandered for days, draining what little supplies he had. He eventually lost consciousness from dehydration, due to him giving the last of his water to his horse.
If he had fallen off of his horse after losing consciousness, Simon would have died. But he didn't. For once in his life his luck wasn't rotten. His horse wandered off in one direction, and eventually left the palm. Simon woke up on his horse near a river, and from there, they made their way back home.
Where Simon immediately quit the force. He ended up 'stealing' the horse, since she was a police horse, and not his. But they had been through a lot, and Simon didn't plan on leaving town without her. It was around this time Simon began hearing rumors of a race, with a massive monetary prize. He made his way to San Diego to compete in this race. Only to find out on his way there, that his near-death experience in the Palm must have brought something back with him. He was being 'haunted' by a metal spirit only he could see. And if that weren't enough, the spirit was an asshole.
Equipment: Simon keeps his trusty six-shooter with him at all times. He also has begun collecting random trinkets, which are currently as follows: Three metal spoons of different quality, a harmonica, three juggling balls, a knife, and a tinderbox.
Name: Cecilia
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Temperament: Cecilia's temperament is her greatest quality. As a former Police Horse, she is nearly constantly calm and collected. Barely anything can spook this horse. The downside to this is that it takes a great bit of egging on to get her to start running at full speed.
Notable Traits: As a Quarter Horse, Cecilia can hold a lot more weight than most other racing horses, which is good, considering that Simon is a larger guy. Apparent after surviving the Devil's Palm is the fact that while Cecilia's specialty is short-distance bursts of speed, she is a horse with a surprising deal of endurance. Of course, that doesn't mean she's a long-distance horse. While she's got plenty of stamina, she isn't fast over long stretches of land, only able to produce short bursts of great speed.
Stand Information
Stand Name:「PERFORM THIS WAY」
Stand Appearance: Perform This Way takes the form of a large wind-up toy, that were popularized a mere 10 years before 1890. Unlike standard wind up toys, Perform This Way is of roughly human size, and seems to float in place. The stand's arms have some degree of bend to them, but their legs are totally joint-less. Not that it matters much, given it floats. The stand has a large wind-up key on its' back.
Abilities: Perform This Way's ability is primarily a restriction. The stand is an automated type stand that will perform tasks requested of it, provided they are possible to accomplish given its' skill set, and specific. (Such as; attack the enemy hiding behind that rock formation, as opposed to 'attack the enemy' when their location is unknown.) The tasks must also not be given in absolutes. One cannot request Perform This Way to 'defeat the enemy stand user.' Because there is no guarantee Perform This Way will succeed. They have to instead phrase it as 'Attack the enemy stand user.' Or 'Defend me from the enemy stand.'
What makes this stand both restrictive, is the fact that while the stand is highly durable, and significantly more versatile than most other stands due to its' nature as an automated stand that isn't restricted to a single trigger/function, the stand cannot activate until 'tasks' are performed for it. When a request is given, the stand will respond with a counter request. These requests are usually mundane tasks, or immature dares. Things like 'balance spinning plates on your head' or 'eat those worms.' When fulfilled, these requests will cause the stand's wind-up key to turn. The stand can be let loose at any time after the key starts turning, but the more tasks done/longer the task is done, the more time the stand has to act before the key stops turning.
"The victor will always be the one who is better prepared!"
Name: Simon Garfunkel
Aliases: The Skittish Sharpshooter of Salt Lake City. "Bad Luck Simon."
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Origin: Utah Territory, Salt Lake City.
Abilities: Simon's title is not a misleading one. Despite his timid, nervous nature, he is a serious dead shot. His talent with a gun is that of a gunslinger. The time it takes for Simon to draw his six shooter from its' holster is impressive. And despite being a nervous wreck, the only part of his body that never shakes or trembles are his hands. Steady aim and quick reflexes aside, Simon struggles when it comes to larger-scale gun fights, due to his mental fortitude and quick shooting not being equal to his steady aim and quick drawing talent.
Of course, that isn't all Simon is capable of. A strange skill he's picked up on is sleight of hand. He's never once performed as a stage magician, card shark, or anything of the sort, but despite that Simon has a knack for misdirection and tricks. He tends to use this talent to pocket seemingly mundane objects 'for later use.'
Simon is built like a tank. He's big and bulky, and thus is pretty physically imposing. But he doesn't actually know how to fight. He can carry stuff, take a beating, and has pretty good stamina, but in an actual brawl despite all that bulk he's pretty much dead weight. A meat shield at best.
When it comes to survival skills, Simon knows basic first-aid, and can cook exactly one meal. A sandwich.
Appearance: Simon is a bulky, muscular guy with an imposing frame that stretches his suit. He stands at about six feet tall, and weighs 172 lbs. While his upper body is garbed in fancy clothing, somewhere between a cowboy and a magician, Simon wears a pair of old, pale brown riding pants, and cowboy boots that have seen better days. Simon's jacket houses a great deal of pockets and pouches for him to store things in, furthering his unintentional stage magician appearance.
Personality: Simon's large, imposing frame is contrasted immensely by his personality. He's incredibly soft-spoken and timid, seemingly neurotic in his paranoia. He's so overly cautious that he's developed kleptomania, snatching useless trinkets and keeping them 'just in case' they ever become useful. His cowardice is so great, that despite being a former policeman, Simon's first reaction when he sees danger, or criminal activity is to ensure he's nowhere near it in order to avoid getting hurt.
If his paranoid and timid nature weren't enough, Simon is also a strong believer in the concept of luck, making him terrified of things such as black cats, nervous around ladders, and strategically evasive, lest he step on a crack. He also carries around a rabbit's foot.
While he is, quite frankly, a neurotic mess, Simon is also a very morally driven person. He treats everyone as kind as possible, provided they are kind to him. Simon has a very firm, stable voice and somehow has a calming presence despite never being calm himself. He's the type of person to give off a happy-sad vibe at all times. Giving watery half-smiles and attempting to get others to look on the bright side. Declaring "At least you aren't me." is his standard form of comfort, and there's not even a hint of sarcasm in it.
When Simon gets frantic, he doesn't end up shouting, or getting angry. Instead his voice goes up an octave, and he begins talking fast and frantically, performing swift hand motions and in general losing his cool. Most strategy goes out the window the moment Simon gets this way, and he ends up stressing others out with his spastic attitude.
Short Biography: Simon was born and raised by a fairly poor family in Salt Lake City. He grew up surrounded by Mormons, as the city was, after all, created by them to be a sanctuary of sorts. Despite being born to a Mormon family, and being surrounded by like-minded people, Simon was never the religious type. The only thing he believed in was Lady Luck. Unfortunately for him, he seemed to have been born with bad luck. Tripping over rocks that he didn't notice, forgetting to tie his shoes, biting his cheek while eating, and rain falling the moment he went outside to play were only some of the things that happened to him nearly constantly.
This shaped Simon's life going forward. His life goal was one he decided on early. He desired to be in an environment that did not require caution. Everything was too dangerous, and Simon needed to fix that. As a kid, this translated to a very simple concept. If he joined the police force, he would be able to keep the area safe. Despite being a nervous kid, Simon was determined in his youth. He grew up tough, working out whenever possible. When he reached adulthood, Simon began training for the force. He was eventually accepted in his early 20s, and was made a mounted officer due to his soft-spoken, timid nature making him better with the horses than most.
Things spiraled from there. Simon found himself terrified of every single criminal, no matter how minor the crime. His deft shooting was enough to compensate for this whenever a criminal turned out to actually be violent, but his track record of letting criminals go was pretty bad. So bad, in fact, that Simon was given an ultimatum. If another crook escaped because he hesitated, he was out.
As if fate itself decided to mock Simon, the next crook was a bandit on horseback. He came in, guns blazing, stole what he could, and rode out. Simon pursued, along with several other officers. The chase was long and grueling, taking them so far, that they ended up in the Sevier Desert. By this point the bandit was getting antsy, and everyone was exhausted. So he started shooting. Simon's fellow officers fell, and he kept riding.
During this chase, neither party noticed that they had passed into some strange canyon. A legendary location known as the Devil's Palm. With their horses unable to take any more riding, Simon faced off with the bandit. Their confrontation ended in nearly an instant. The bandit with a slug through the stomach, and Simon with one through the shoulder. Simon attempted to leave, only to find himself horribly lost. He wandered for days, draining what little supplies he had. He eventually lost consciousness from dehydration, due to him giving the last of his water to his horse.
If he had fallen off of his horse after losing consciousness, Simon would have died. But he didn't. For once in his life his luck wasn't rotten. His horse wandered off in one direction, and eventually left the palm. Simon woke up on his horse near a river, and from there, they made their way back home.
Where Simon immediately quit the force. He ended up 'stealing' the horse, since she was a police horse, and not his. But they had been through a lot, and Simon didn't plan on leaving town without her. It was around this time Simon began hearing rumors of a race, with a massive monetary prize. He made his way to San Diego to compete in this race. Only to find out on his way there, that his near-death experience in the Palm must have brought something back with him. He was being 'haunted' by a metal spirit only he could see. And if that weren't enough, the spirit was an asshole.
Equipment: Simon keeps his trusty six-shooter with him at all times. He also has begun collecting random trinkets, which are currently as follows: Three metal spoons of different quality, a harmonica, three juggling balls, a knife, and a tinderbox.
Name: Cecilia
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Temperament: Cecilia's temperament is her greatest quality. As a former Police Horse, she is nearly constantly calm and collected. Barely anything can spook this horse. The downside to this is that it takes a great bit of egging on to get her to start running at full speed.
Notable Traits: As a Quarter Horse, Cecilia can hold a lot more weight than most other racing horses, which is good, considering that Simon is a larger guy. Apparent after surviving the Devil's Palm is the fact that while Cecilia's specialty is short-distance bursts of speed, she is a horse with a surprising deal of endurance. Of course, that doesn't mean she's a long-distance horse. While she's got plenty of stamina, she isn't fast over long stretches of land, only able to produce short bursts of great speed.
Stand Information
Stand Name:「PERFORM THIS WAY」
Stand Appearance: Perform This Way takes the form of a large wind-up toy, that were popularized a mere 10 years before 1890. Unlike standard wind up toys, Perform This Way is of roughly human size, and seems to float in place. The stand's arms have some degree of bend to them, but their legs are totally joint-less. Not that it matters much, given it floats. The stand has a large wind-up key on its' back.
Abilities: Perform This Way's ability is primarily a restriction. The stand is an automated type stand that will perform tasks requested of it, provided they are possible to accomplish given its' skill set, and specific. (Such as; attack the enemy hiding behind that rock formation, as opposed to 'attack the enemy' when their location is unknown.) The tasks must also not be given in absolutes. One cannot request Perform This Way to 'defeat the enemy stand user.' Because there is no guarantee Perform This Way will succeed. They have to instead phrase it as 'Attack the enemy stand user.' Or 'Defend me from the enemy stand.'
What makes this stand both restrictive, is the fact that while the stand is highly durable, and significantly more versatile than most other stands due to its' nature as an automated stand that isn't restricted to a single trigger/function, the stand cannot activate until 'tasks' are performed for it. When a request is given, the stand will respond with a counter request. These requests are usually mundane tasks, or immature dares. Things like 'balance spinning plates on your head' or 'eat those worms.' When fulfilled, these requests will cause the stand's wind-up key to turn. The stand can be let loose at any time after the key starts turning, but the more tasks done/longer the task is done, the more time the stand has to act before the key stops turning.
Member
Phase
AwesomeZero5
puddingpunter
OfTheValley
BayRat
FatPrincess
nightmare medx
Double D
ezio ac2
