rezay

Through the Gateways: Humanity

@rezay
Cool to see you! We jumped over the the official OCC a few days ago: roleplayerguild.com/topics/185726-thr…

You can join the conversation and post any updates to you sip there

@Tortoise

Gotchya
*Though I'd subscribed to that, apparently not :P

Through the Gateways: Humanity

*NS moved to the OOC!

Fog [Full]

₂

Wyatt Rhys

Friday Evening, October 7th, 1994

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Bella’s eyes scanned the crowd that'd gathered in the lobby, then landed upon Wyatt as he made his way to the door. She watched as he grasped the handle, ready to open it. She pushed herself through the crowd while saying excuse me, as she made her way to him. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” she said when she finally reached him. “We have no idea what is going on out there.”

@Wolvena

"Wait!" He exclaimed, nearly jumping out his skin in panic. Making his way towards the door alongside a headphone-wearing woman, Chris placed his hand on the push bar in an attempt to stop the mechanic from opening it. "Don't you dare open that door. She's right. You might be nuts, but I'm not about to walk straight into some mysterious fog we just heard shrieking from. Alton took off the moment the fog rolled in, and he vanished without a trace."

Christopher looked anxiously outside, and then to the mechanic. "The best thing we can do now is keep those doors shut."

@Vatonage

I glanced at both of the strangers, and my expression contorted into one of mild confusion. I tried to make my case again in an skeptical tone, my back to the door. "Whadd'a yall think happened out there? There's obviously been an accident. A— a gas explosion, or a bomb. There's people outside needin' help, we' can't just sit in here."

I turned back to the door. To admit the truth, the other residents' reaction to the prospect of opening the door made me think twice about my original take of the situation. Had they seen something I hadn't?

My voice lowered, and I looked back to the woman. "Right?..." I turned my eyes back to the man— he'd said Alton had taken off into the mist. "Alton? So what, he pro'lly had tha' same idea I did."

Still, I took my hand off the handle. There was something seriously wrong here, that was for sure, and it would be better to gather more information before making any decisions.

With the excitement of the moment wearing off, I suddenly realized that I'd made myself the center of attention... An uncomfortable feeling. I propped myself up against the doorframe with one hand, pulled my cap off, and massaged my brow with a sigh, taking some time to process the situation. Pointing out the nearest window with my hat, I continued, speaking directly to the man. "How long's this been goin' on?"

Through the Gateways: Humanity

Interested, will be keeping my eye on this one

Fog [Full]

₁

Wyatt Rhys

Friday Evening, October 7th, 1994

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Friday was a slow one at the shop, especially after an usually frantic week that'd left the minds and bodies of me and my work buddies bruised and battered. To celebrate such a freak occurrence, Merle'd graciously called it quits around 3, a decision which no one took issue with.

After getting home and trudging through some needed maintenance on the front brakes of my beloved F-350, I lugged my tools and work bag up 6 flights of stairs (trading a good evening with Alton), opened my door, and conked out on my dilapidated couch half past 5.

It took the sound of shattering glass and horrific screams in the street below to pull me out of my sleep. Scrambling to my window, I searched for the source of the commotion, only to find myself staring into a hazy grey mist. It reminded me of fog, but somehow different. More opaque— and blood-chillingly sinister. Wiping a band of cold sweat off my brow, I moved into my kitchen, and checked the time on the microwave. 7:23.

Still in my jumpsuit, I moved to my door where I'd kicked off my work boots and pulled them on, fumbling with the laces for a bit. Thoughts were racing through my mind as to what'd happened. It didn't look (or sound) like any fog that I'd seen. A gas explosion? Terrorist attack? Bomb? What was that screaming? Was there an accident?

I cursed myself for putting off fixing my TV so long, and went to the landline which hung off the kitchen wall. I punched in the number of my sister, Marianne, and leant against the wall, clutching my scalp. The shock of my discovery wore off with the phone's ringing, and even when my call wasn't answered (for the third time, plus a couple tries at the police department), I replaced the phone and drew in a heavy breath.

I was fine. She would be fine too— this was probably something local. The screams? What was I afraid they were? There wasn't gunfire. Probably just an accident from the fog, or gas explosion, or bomb... whatever it was. More and more, my stoic, rational side pushed my initial terror into the back of my brain, and I resolved that I should go downstairs and see if I could help with whatever'd happened.

I picked my baseball cap off of the floor, embroidered with the name and logo of Merle's Shop. I dusted some lint off, and pulled it onto my head, grabbing my keys and moving into the hallway. I took some time to lock my door behind me, and then near sprinted to the stairwell, skipping two steps at a time to make it to the lobby as fast as possible.

When I got there, I saw a gathering of my fellow residents and heard an ongoing conversation, spoken in frantic, worried tones. Evidently, I wasn't the only one who was freaked out.

I certainly wouldn't call myself a socialite, but my reclusive tendencies usually took a backseat when there was something serious going on, and this was no exception.

"... Not the police. Not the military. Face it; we're already fucking dead no matter what we do."

My brows pulled together in confusion. Military? What was he talking about?

Emma turned to the man, a certain expression on her face that should have clearly communicated her displeasure with his choice of verbiage. “Mind your language,” she added rather sternly, placing her right arm around her son’s shoulder in a seemingly protective manner.

I agreed. Jumping in with as confident a tone as I could muster, I projected my voice across the lobby. "The lady's right, there's no need for that."

I winced inside, aware of my accent which had always set me apart from the native New Englanders. Especially as a teenager, it had never done me any favors. "There're kids here."

I looked like I'd just climbed out of bed (which was the truth), my hair disheveled and my eyes still tired. Striding towards the door, I murmured some excuse mes to those in my path. "Did'yall hear that screamin'? Sounds like there'sn accident."

Upon reaching the door, I grasped the handle, ready to push it open. "Somebody call 911, my phone ain't workin'..."

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Wyatt Rhys (CS)

_{(This but a bit heavier)}

Name

Wyatt L. Rhys

Age

24 years

Place of Residence

Glenview Apartment Complex, Apartment 309

Personality Traits

Wyatt is a quiet, good-natured (at his core) sort. Hardworking, grounded, and occasionally witty, if mule-headed and somewhat unsociable. He was in a rougher place as a teenager (a time which he looks back on with regret), and his experiences have left him unusually jaded for his age. He's serious in his work, laid-back on his own time, and has a talent for maintaining a calm demeanor in stressful situations. This said, he can have a short temper occasionally, and is more prone to preemptively judging others than he'd like to admit. Being a small-town southerner only recently moved into the Glenview Apartment Complex, he takes excessive measures to prevent interaction with other tenants.

Background

Wyatt was born in the town of Highlands, North Carolina into a religious, solidly working-class household. His mother was an elementary school teacher and his father a mechanic. He has two living sisters, both older than him, and a deceased younger brother. Following the deaths of his father and younger brother at the hands of a drunk driver, his mother became addicted to opiates, and he left his home at age 12 to live with his older sister in Norton, Massachusetts where she worked as an accountant.

Having a passion and prior education in automobiles due to his father, he pursued a career as an automotive mechanic following a rough adolescence of mostly petty criminality. This included shoplifting, underage drinking, smoking, drag racing, and even car theft, as well as some more violent activity. This escalated over the course of four years, and finally at age 17 he spent six months in a county jail for connection to a murder. Thanks to good legal counsel provided by his sister, the more severe charges brought against him were dropped, and he spent a little over a year on probation. In this time, he managed to straighten himself out (returning to church for the first time since his childhood), and forged a stronger bond with his sister. He struck out on his own to Boston, Massachusetts to take up a position at his nephew's shop, and has lived in the city for four months.

Other Info

An average sized man, standing at 5'11" and weighing 170 pounds. He has brown hair, blue eyes, and a North Carolinian drawl. His teeth are tinted yellow from a decade of smoking, and he has a higher tolerance for alcohol than his frame would suggest.

He loves cars, and currently owns two: a 1980 Ford F-350 pickup truck, and a 1975 Ferrari 308 sports car. Being young, single, and having an avid interest in automobiles, he puts the majority of his disposable income into their upkeep (and ongoing payments for the latter), and so his residence is dismally furnished.

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Fog [Full]

tfw there's no old people or kids.
survival chance +100%

jokes aside, this gonna be lit

@Bartimaeus

It's the opposite, you trip the young and old when you're running from the scary fog monsters. They're slow :D

Fog [Full]

Things should be straightened out here

Wyatt Rhys

_{(This but a bit heavier)}

Name

Wyatt L. Rhys

Age

24 years

Place of Residence

Glenview Apartment Complex, Apartment 309

Personality Traits

Wyatt is a quiet, good-natured (at his core) sort. Hardworking, grounded, and occasionally witty, if mule-headed and somewhat unsociable. He was in a rougher place as a teenager (a time which he looks back on with regret), and his experiences have left him unusually jaded for his age. He's serious in his work, laid-back on his own time, and has a talent for maintaining a calm demeanor in stressful situations. This said, he can have a short temper occasionally, and is more prone to preemptively judging others than he'd like to admit. Being a small-town southerner only recently moved into the Glenview Apartment Complex, he takes excessive measures to prevent interaction with other tenants.

Background

Wyatt was born in the town of Highlands, North Carolina into a religious, solidly working-class household. His mother was an elementary school teacher and his father a mechanic. He has two living sisters, both older than him, and a deceased younger brother. Following the deaths of his father and younger brother at the hands of a drunk driver, his mother became addicted to opiates, and he left his home at age 12 to live with his older sister in Norton, Massachusetts where she worked as an accountant.

Having a passion and prior education in automobiles due to his father, he pursued a career as an automotive mechanic following a rough adolescence of mostly petty criminality. This included shoplifting, underage drinking, smoking, drag racing, and even car theft, as well as some more violent activity. This escalated over the course of four years, and finally at age 17 he spent six months in a county jail for connection to a murder. Thanks to good legal counsel provided by his sister, the more severe charges brought against him were dropped, and he spent a little over a year on probation. In this time, he managed to straighten himself out (returning to church for the first time since his childhood), and forged a stronger bond with his sister. He struck out on his own to Boston, Massachusetts to take up a position at his nephew's shop, and has lived in the city for four months.

Other Info

An average sized man, standing at 5'11" and weighing 170 pounds. He has brown hair, blue eyes, and a North Carolinian drawl. His teeth are tinted yellow from a decade of smoking, and he has a higher tolerance for alcohol than his frame would suggest.

He loves cars, and currently owns two: a 1980 Ford F-350 pickup truck, and a 1975 Ferrari 308 sports car. Being young, single, and having an avid interest in automobiles, he puts the majority of his disposable income into their upkeep (and ongoing payments for the latter), and so his residence is minimally decorated and furnished.

Fog [Full]

Kai Duran

Name

Kai Duran

Age

30

Place of Residence

Glenview Apartments, 3rd floor, 309 (I don't think its take yet haha)

Personality Traits

Generally outgoing, mostly upbeat. Fiercely loyal to those he considers his friends. However, when he is alone, he is rather quiet and solemn. When he is working, he is the consummate professional, preferring a no-nonsense attitude.

Background

Kai is the oldest of a middle class immigrant family. Family life was nothing special. Father worked 9 to 5 at a local accounting firm and mom largely stayed at home, taking side gigs as a private chef when there were work to be found. School never was his strong suit and thus straight after high school, he elected to attend a local culinary school as he has always found his solace in the kitchen. When he is in there, it is as if the world's noise fades and he is there alone.

Upon his departure from culinary school, Kai bounced around local restaurants, taking whatever role they offered, learning from anyone willing to teach. In between working at local restaurants in town, Kai spent some time working at some more upscale restaurants in New York as well, often taking relatively menial roles in the kitchen like prep staff and such.

After several years of bouncing around, his work was finally being properly recognized. He was recruited as a sous chef at a local up and comer. Of course, unless one is working in one of the top restaurants in the world, money is still hard to come by for those who work in the restaurant industry. Enter Glenview Apartments. Its close to where Kai works, and the rent was fair...

Other Info

Kai 'collects' kitchen knives. He brings one home from every restaurant he has worked in. Currently, he maintains a collection of around 10 that he regularly sharpens and uses, and a few that he has been gifted that he maintains but do not use regularly.

@Infinite Cosmos

Wanna be roommates? :D

Fog [Full]

Man, starting to feel outnumbered here : P

Fog [Full]

<Snipped quote by rezay>

I'm still trying to locate the exact laws in regards to legal ownership, but from the research papers and other documents I've read, Massachusetts generally has a low % of people owning firearms vs. nationwide. I'm not sure if a low legal ownership percentage was the same back in the 90s; however, around the late 80s to the mid 90s, Boston, like a number of US cities at the time, did have a huge spike in gang conflicts and unregistered/illegal guns being on the street. In Boston in particular these events were mostly limited primarily in disadvantaged neighborhoods according to what I've found/read. There's also this law that I've found also deals with illegal and unlicensed ownership.

To answer the question, though, personally I'm a little stingy when it comes to firearms in these types of RPs. It's part of the reason why I'm largely against police and military characters and almost always permanently ban those types of characters from the get-go. Honestly, I would prefer you to stay away from guns, but it's your call.

<Snipped quote by WindsOfFate>

We are still accepting. Though it isn't first come, first serve; I'll be reviewing sheets in a few days before giving people time to address any potential changes or concerns before doing a final look over and choosing who I'll be accepting.

@Vatonage

I understand the stinginess, certainly. As for my character specifically, he hasn't been in Boston for that long and it's easily conceivable he just hasn't had the time/thought to invest in a firearm. It would be a big coincidence that no one in the building has one, but that's not much of an issue.

On another note, having just one firearm in conceptually interesting, as for the implications that holds for the power hierarchy and social dynamic of the inhabitants. Not sure where Alton died, but maybe if it was outside and he had a firearm (though he was only a security guard) then that would be a cool little mission for them to undertake, with the added drama of who gets the thing in the aftermath. I won't speculate too much on that.

In any case, I'll remain with your preference.

Wyatt will be cursing himself that he put off the matter so long (assuming I get accepted : D)