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VecI'm done myself. Check me out.
I'm use to doing Anime Rp's so it might be a bit unrealistic but I tried lol.
Name: Michael Sonnen.
Nickname/Alias: Mike, Son (close friends), Mikey, Meeka (mother).
Race: Human.
Age: 20.
Ethnicity: African American.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Michael has a overall roguish countenance with boyish features that marks him as a baby-face by most. His cheeks are round and his eyes hazel, a rare mutation inherited from his mother. His thick eyebrows have a almost feral shape to them, melding with his youthful look. However the eyes underneath them are--admittedly--filled with age. His athletic frame is more slim than sturdy and with arms that have sculpted its form in the mine shafts, its quite efficient to say that he looks adequately prepared for a fight. He stands at a semi-average height of 5'11" and can be spotted by the close, dark cut he sports. His hands are calloused from his years of labor and his mahogany skin marked with scars and cuts from injuries. One particular scar cuts across the right side of his nose and stops below his eye.
Clothing: Though he works for Galatec like any other person, his reasons are vastly different. It's more so to blend in. This is falls in line with his want for acceptance. Like other youth's his age, he dresses fashionably in urban casual clothing. At times he can be seen wearing solid colored t-shirts beneath flannels, jackets, or hoodies. Other times, he could be seen sporting sweaters or simple tees. Accessories are bit too expensive for him, no watches, rings, or necklaces is worth the meager pay he's getting. Every once-in-awhile, when its chilly, he'll wrap a scarf around himself but that's just about it. His footwear usually consists of boots or sneakers, all of them different shapes. He has no preferences.
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Personality: Indecision and Resolve, its a contradiction that Michael happens to work with. Torn between his obligations to his family, his chosen path, and his desire to maintain peace; Michael can be quite the closeted person. Before, he had always tried to live a simple life, one that couldn't be pointed out from any other but as time moved on he found his complacency doing more harm than good. And because of this, he found that guilt quickly tore him apart on the inside. He had always been emotional. Even as a boy he could cry at the smallest of things. Because of how others nitpicked at him, he became reserved, holding his emotions in and letting them out in a more refined manner. Often or not, their pointed and strong, if not wholly direct and obvious.
Modest as he was, Michael's emotions were still very much wild. His insight and sensitivity allowed him to empathize with those around him. As a mine worker he often looked on his co-workers and family with sadness. The propaganda, the brain-washed like devotion towards Galatec; it all felt very wrong. The conditions of their job was grave too but he bared it to be with them. This being said, his loyalty to those he love is steel-strong. Which can be a bad thing and a good depending on the situation. He also has a knack for being generous, trying to help others needlessly. When socializing he picks and chooses his words, its a habit he picked so as to not arouse suspicion from others that he may be different. In a nutshell, he's only human. Certain things about him could be described as faulty but he knows that everything he does come from a good place and tries to show it through his actions.
Likes: Michael enjoys the sounds of smoldering rock music, its dream-like and smoky acoustics tend to uplift him and bring him to clarity. As mentioned below he studies geology a bit, investing himself in learning about the rocks he work around and the fractures that could potentially cause accidents. His favorite dish is enchiladas, the mixture of cheese, meat, and vegetables are a classic for him. It always brings a smile to his face. He also enjoys driving. Whether that be to the store or just to rock out to some music and get some thinking done. When colors are brought into question, his favorite has always been charcoal.
Dislikes: On the flipside of his rock fetish, Michael tends to dislike expansive open spaces. The feeling of being vulnerable there makes him queasy and upsets his stomach. He also has a dislike of spiders. This developed when he was younger, working in the mines. He dislikes sweets too, candy or cakes are out of the question for him; his teeth are sensitive. And being around too many people can make him anxious. Judgmental people can lead to unwarranted attention and that could lead to him being discovered as different.
Fears: Fears are rampant in a world where one can be perceived as different. MIchael has many fears. Discovery for wanting to remove Galatec's tight grip on New Earth is one of them. He's certain that death or imprisonment would follow if they ever found out. He also has a fear of moles and rats, these were also developed in the dark mines when he was younger. Oddly enough he also fears Galatec, the aliens are mysterious to him, a curtain behind many veils. But more than anything else, he fears that his family will end up like his cousin, thanking the hand that drove the knife into their backs.
Quirks: Michael often thumbs the scar across his nose. It itches every once in awhile, causing him to rub the length of it. When he morphs into the Red Ranger he has a habit of saying "We fight for today!" before charging into an open confrontations. And when fighting he tends to swing his pickaxe with a expert skill, though his unarmed combat is sloppy and unrefined.
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History: Average. What could that have been he wondered at a very young age. His birth was unremarkable and his life up until its eleventh year was too. That was when he realized that the things he noticed were vastly different than what others saw. His insight came to life that year and it begun what he liked to call his "blending". His mother: Valerie and father: Patrick was both workers underneath Galatec. So was his elder brother and cousin. When he turned eleven he too was sent to the mines for hard labor. Something about it was off, though he didn't really think much about because his family seemed okay with it. It wasn't until he met a little girl around the same age, who worked in the mines and exhausted herself daily, did he think,
This isn't right...
Later that year she hurt herself in the mines. To the point that she couldn't life anything over forty pounds. Michael always kept that in the back of his head, for whatever reason it stuck with him. Eventually seeing kids his age and younger became normal, though it was more than normal to the others. It was accepted and morally right. There was nothing wrong with watching a child struggle to lift his pickaxe, to watch him shy away from the smoldering heat and debris, to get injured and carried away. But that was just life in the mines. Outside it seemed perfectly typical. People shopped, people laughed, people even loved. It was life. But at the same time, it was twisted. Galatec was praised and worshipped more than any religion in history. Beliefs were focused on them, trust was given without thought.
Michael pondered infinitely, taking notes of the rights and wrong he had observed. Ultimately he convinced himself that as long as his family was happy, that it was fine. So he continued to look at the propaganda that drowned his world, occasionally nudging his father or mother when they did something unethical for Galatec. When they would lash out at him, whether that be tender or agitated, he would always joke it off.
His views on Galatec changed when his cousin died in the mines. He was with her when it happened and it was her final words that drove him down his path. As she laid limp beneath a metal canister; rocks toppled over her bleeding body, she uttered.
"Don't worry, Mikey... Galatec will take care of you-"
It was then that he knew things needed to change. Months after her funeral, as he worked the mines with his father who mourned and brother who withdrew into himself; Michael couldn't help thinking of them. He wanted to free them so badly that simply being quiet about Galatec pained him with guilt. At night he staid up, losing sleep over it. If he had said something, would Courtney be alive now? he thought that often. The bad thing was, his father and brother still thought highly of Galatec. It was as if it was impossible to resist them. He decided he hated them himself.
Talents: Michael's talents aren't many, though they are pretty remarkable. In school he was the star of his soccer team, excelling at the sport. In the mines he gained a praticed aptitude with his pickaxe, usuing it for all sorts of labor and knowing its advantages and disadvantages respectfully. He also became a rather seasoned scholar in the rocks around him. He started studying geology so that he could perform his job better and notice the weaknesses in certain structures or walls. His eyes have also become rather sharp due to having to work in the dark tunnels of the mines, along with his instincts for danger. He's come to rely on these often.
Hindrances: Unfortunately his talents are met with hindrances as well. He's week in the mathematics departments, many things technical escapes him. Mostly due to the fact that he ignores these things out of . He's also pretty bad with strategies, finding it easier to just go with the flow of things. And perhaps his biggest flaw is his indecision about breaking Galatec's hold on New Earth. At the cost of peace, is it really worth it?
Powers: None.
Equipment: Morpher, Personal Communicator, His cousin's daily planner.
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Quotes: "We fight for today!"
Theme Song: Throne
Aspiration: To secure the safety and future of his loved ones.
Color Designation: Red
Primary Weapon: Pickaxe Scythe. While it resembles a Pickaxe greatly, its length and reach is more scythe-like. The hard-light this weapon is made tends to flare violently when swung.
Energy Shield: Kite Shield with a Pick Axe on its face. Like his scythe, this shield flares violently.
Blaster Design: A long, crimson revolver with red and black swirling towards the barrel. It is rather archaic in design with a slow fire-rate but powerful bullets.
Powers: The Red Ranger possesses the ability to fire beams of concentrated heat energy via hands and feet. This heat is enough to burn through solid rock when concentrated over time and can be utilized in combat through quick strikes.
Zords: For now, you won’t start with any zords. In fact, getting them will be among the first few missions. When you get a zord, keep track of it here. Until then, leave this space empty.
I'm use to doing Anime Rp's so it might be a bit unrealistic but I tried lol.
Michael Sonnen
Name: Michael Sonnen.
Nickname/Alias: Mike, Son (close friends), Mikey, Meeka (mother).
Race: Human.
Age: 20.
Ethnicity: African American.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Michael has a overall roguish countenance with boyish features that marks him as a baby-face by most. His cheeks are round and his eyes hazel, a rare mutation inherited from his mother. His thick eyebrows have a almost feral shape to them, melding with his youthful look. However the eyes underneath them are--admittedly--filled with age. His athletic frame is more slim than sturdy and with arms that have sculpted its form in the mine shafts, its quite efficient to say that he looks adequately prepared for a fight. He stands at a semi-average height of 5'11" and can be spotted by the close, dark cut he sports. His hands are calloused from his years of labor and his mahogany skin marked with scars and cuts from injuries. One particular scar cuts across the right side of his nose and stops below his eye.
Clothing: Though he works for Galatec like any other person, his reasons are vastly different. It's more so to blend in. This is falls in line with his want for acceptance. Like other youth's his age, he dresses fashionably in urban casual clothing. At times he can be seen wearing solid colored t-shirts beneath flannels, jackets, or hoodies. Other times, he could be seen sporting sweaters or simple tees. Accessories are bit too expensive for him, no watches, rings, or necklaces is worth the meager pay he's getting. Every once-in-awhile, when its chilly, he'll wrap a scarf around himself but that's just about it. His footwear usually consists of boots or sneakers, all of them different shapes. He has no preferences.
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In The Mind
Personality: Indecision and Resolve, its a contradiction that Michael happens to work with. Torn between his obligations to his family, his chosen path, and his desire to maintain peace; Michael can be quite the closeted person. Before, he had always tried to live a simple life, one that couldn't be pointed out from any other but as time moved on he found his complacency doing more harm than good. And because of this, he found that guilt quickly tore him apart on the inside. He had always been emotional. Even as a boy he could cry at the smallest of things. Because of how others nitpicked at him, he became reserved, holding his emotions in and letting them out in a more refined manner. Often or not, their pointed and strong, if not wholly direct and obvious.
Modest as he was, Michael's emotions were still very much wild. His insight and sensitivity allowed him to empathize with those around him. As a mine worker he often looked on his co-workers and family with sadness. The propaganda, the brain-washed like devotion towards Galatec; it all felt very wrong. The conditions of their job was grave too but he bared it to be with them. This being said, his loyalty to those he love is steel-strong. Which can be a bad thing and a good depending on the situation. He also has a knack for being generous, trying to help others needlessly. When socializing he picks and chooses his words, its a habit he picked so as to not arouse suspicion from others that he may be different. In a nutshell, he's only human. Certain things about him could be described as faulty but he knows that everything he does come from a good place and tries to show it through his actions.
Likes: Michael enjoys the sounds of smoldering rock music, its dream-like and smoky acoustics tend to uplift him and bring him to clarity. As mentioned below he studies geology a bit, investing himself in learning about the rocks he work around and the fractures that could potentially cause accidents. His favorite dish is enchiladas, the mixture of cheese, meat, and vegetables are a classic for him. It always brings a smile to his face. He also enjoys driving. Whether that be to the store or just to rock out to some music and get some thinking done. When colors are brought into question, his favorite has always been charcoal.
Dislikes: On the flipside of his rock fetish, Michael tends to dislike expansive open spaces. The feeling of being vulnerable there makes him queasy and upsets his stomach. He also has a dislike of spiders. This developed when he was younger, working in the mines. He dislikes sweets too, candy or cakes are out of the question for him; his teeth are sensitive. And being around too many people can make him anxious. Judgmental people can lead to unwarranted attention and that could lead to him being discovered as different.
Fears: Fears are rampant in a world where one can be perceived as different. MIchael has many fears. Discovery for wanting to remove Galatec's tight grip on New Earth is one of them. He's certain that death or imprisonment would follow if they ever found out. He also has a fear of moles and rats, these were also developed in the dark mines when he was younger. Oddly enough he also fears Galatec, the aliens are mysterious to him, a curtain behind many veils. But more than anything else, he fears that his family will end up like his cousin, thanking the hand that drove the knife into their backs.
Quirks: Michael often thumbs the scar across his nose. It itches every once in awhile, causing him to rub the length of it. When he morphs into the Red Ranger he has a habit of saying "We fight for today!" before charging into an open confrontations. And when fighting he tends to swing his pickaxe with a expert skill, though his unarmed combat is sloppy and unrefined.
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Where They’ve Been
History: Average. What could that have been he wondered at a very young age. His birth was unremarkable and his life up until its eleventh year was too. That was when he realized that the things he noticed were vastly different than what others saw. His insight came to life that year and it begun what he liked to call his "blending". His mother: Valerie and father: Patrick was both workers underneath Galatec. So was his elder brother and cousin. When he turned eleven he too was sent to the mines for hard labor. Something about it was off, though he didn't really think much about because his family seemed okay with it. It wasn't until he met a little girl around the same age, who worked in the mines and exhausted herself daily, did he think,
This isn't right...
Later that year she hurt herself in the mines. To the point that she couldn't life anything over forty pounds. Michael always kept that in the back of his head, for whatever reason it stuck with him. Eventually seeing kids his age and younger became normal, though it was more than normal to the others. It was accepted and morally right. There was nothing wrong with watching a child struggle to lift his pickaxe, to watch him shy away from the smoldering heat and debris, to get injured and carried away. But that was just life in the mines. Outside it seemed perfectly typical. People shopped, people laughed, people even loved. It was life. But at the same time, it was twisted. Galatec was praised and worshipped more than any religion in history. Beliefs were focused on them, trust was given without thought.
Michael pondered infinitely, taking notes of the rights and wrong he had observed. Ultimately he convinced himself that as long as his family was happy, that it was fine. So he continued to look at the propaganda that drowned his world, occasionally nudging his father or mother when they did something unethical for Galatec. When they would lash out at him, whether that be tender or agitated, he would always joke it off.
His views on Galatec changed when his cousin died in the mines. He was with her when it happened and it was her final words that drove him down his path. As she laid limp beneath a metal canister; rocks toppled over her bleeding body, she uttered.
"Don't worry, Mikey... Galatec will take care of you-"
It was then that he knew things needed to change. Months after her funeral, as he worked the mines with his father who mourned and brother who withdrew into himself; Michael couldn't help thinking of them. He wanted to free them so badly that simply being quiet about Galatec pained him with guilt. At night he staid up, losing sleep over it. If he had said something, would Courtney be alive now? he thought that often. The bad thing was, his father and brother still thought highly of Galatec. It was as if it was impossible to resist them. He decided he hated them himself.
Talents: Michael's talents aren't many, though they are pretty remarkable. In school he was the star of his soccer team, excelling at the sport. In the mines he gained a praticed aptitude with his pickaxe, usuing it for all sorts of labor and knowing its advantages and disadvantages respectfully. He also became a rather seasoned scholar in the rocks around him. He started studying geology so that he could perform his job better and notice the weaknesses in certain structures or walls. His eyes have also become rather sharp due to having to work in the dark tunnels of the mines, along with his instincts for danger. He's come to rely on these often.
Hindrances: Unfortunately his talents are met with hindrances as well. He's week in the mathematics departments, many things technical escapes him. Mostly due to the fact that he ignores these things out of . He's also pretty bad with strategies, finding it easier to just go with the flow of things. And perhaps his biggest flaw is his indecision about breaking Galatec's hold on New Earth. At the cost of peace, is it really worth it?
Powers: None.
Equipment: Morpher, Personal Communicator, His cousin's daily planner.
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Bonus Round
Quotes: "We fight for today!"
Theme Song: Throne
Aspiration: To secure the safety and future of his loved ones.
It’s Morphin’ Time!
Color Designation: Red
Primary Weapon: Pickaxe Scythe. While it resembles a Pickaxe greatly, its length and reach is more scythe-like. The hard-light this weapon is made tends to flare violently when swung.
Energy Shield: Kite Shield with a Pick Axe on its face. Like his scythe, this shield flares violently.
Blaster Design: A long, crimson revolver with red and black swirling towards the barrel. It is rather archaic in design with a slow fire-rate but powerful bullets.
Powers: The Red Ranger possesses the ability to fire beams of concentrated heat energy via hands and feet. This heat is enough to burn through solid rock when concentrated over time and can be utilized in combat through quick strikes.
Zords: For now, you won’t start with any zords. In fact, getting them will be among the first few missions. When you get a zord, keep track of it here. Until then, leave this space empty.
"Ma, you should think about yourself now. Your job will get done, I promise you."
She was bedridden but still thinking of Galatec. It was hard not to scowl or keep his fist from clenching. As she reminded him of their metaphorical debt to them, he had to make himself busy to keep her from noticing the deep scowl that etched his face. He moved to grab the tray of food next to her bed before mentioning his schedule for the next couple of days. They were different from usual for some reason, he was working without his father and brother and that worried him. He didn't tell her that part, she would have only told him to trust them or something like that.
By the time he left the hospital dark had suffused with light and opened the door for the stars and moon. Michael sighed as he walked out, his hands tucked in his pockets as he shied away from the cold. His pops and brother should've been home; their shifts over. Unfortunately for him, his night was just getting started. Dressed in his uniform--a sophisticated material that tilted on being overhauls--Michael believed he could make the drive there in an hour. Give or take five minutes depending on traffic.
His outdated vehicle rumbled to life once he ignited it. The contrast between his car and everyone else's were obvious. His was outdated even for those that had cars from twenty years ago. He held a grip on the rusty steering wheel, his head nearly touching it as he thought on his mother's condition. Working with upper Galatec meant many things to the working class, it meant she was honest, that she was respectable, worth admiration. But above everything else, it meant she was worth being stepped on.
Poisoned... someone poisoned her! Crap! He could feel every muscle of his body tightening.
Michael slammed his fist against the steering wheel before siting up and driving off. If he thought about Galatec's crimes right before going to work, he found it hard to act casual if not under their control. So he tried to clear his mind by playing some music. He played an old band, the kind whose music could make you dream and see armies clashing beneath red suns.
"Just work your shift and make it home. That's all you have to do" he told himself.
She was bedridden but still thinking of Galatec. It was hard not to scowl or keep his fist from clenching. As she reminded him of their metaphorical debt to them, he had to make himself busy to keep her from noticing the deep scowl that etched his face. He moved to grab the tray of food next to her bed before mentioning his schedule for the next couple of days. They were different from usual for some reason, he was working without his father and brother and that worried him. He didn't tell her that part, she would have only told him to trust them or something like that.
By the time he left the hospital dark had suffused with light and opened the door for the stars and moon. Michael sighed as he walked out, his hands tucked in his pockets as he shied away from the cold. His pops and brother should've been home; their shifts over. Unfortunately for him, his night was just getting started. Dressed in his uniform--a sophisticated material that tilted on being overhauls--Michael believed he could make the drive there in an hour. Give or take five minutes depending on traffic.
His outdated vehicle rumbled to life once he ignited it. The contrast between his car and everyone else's were obvious. His was outdated even for those that had cars from twenty years ago. He held a grip on the rusty steering wheel, his head nearly touching it as he thought on his mother's condition. Working with upper Galatec meant many things to the working class, it meant she was honest, that she was respectable, worth admiration. But above everything else, it meant she was worth being stepped on.
Poisoned... someone poisoned her! Crap! He could feel every muscle of his body tightening.
Michael slammed his fist against the steering wheel before siting up and driving off. If he thought about Galatec's crimes right before going to work, he found it hard to act casual if not under their control. So he tried to clear his mind by playing some music. He played an old band, the kind whose music could make you dream and see armies clashing beneath red suns.
"Just work your shift and make it home. That's all you have to do" he told himself.