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Name: Flint Asidea
Talent: SHSL Recollector
Gender: ♂
Appearance:

Backstory: Flint has been living as a delinquent his entire life, born into poverty and addiction. In particular, he is addicted to a drug known as "seeds of eden”, a psychoactive drug that induces a feeling of bliss and specific hallucinations. These drugs are special in that they cause the image of "god", beautiful monstrosities, to appear to those affected. Depending on the mix, the god appears differently, but the same mix yields the same visage, even through uses by different people. For reasons not hard to imagine, peddlers of the drug often thinly veil their trade as a religion, each god promising a different method to get their followers to "that special place", as "interpreted" by that god's "prophet".

The religion he was born into was one Flint is not fond of. Worshipping a "wrathful god", the rites carried out by its prophet were violent, and it was in this manner that both of his parents died.

His current religion by contrast, worships a "god of love". Its prophet, his "father" in a financial and religious sense, instead teaching his clients the importance of “saving” others, by “purifying” the “evils” from their household and helping them see “that special place”. Only in saving others from the evils of their household and finding a partner who they can show that special place to can they achieve “salvation”.

Simply put, Flint has been living the life of a thief since birth. He's committed countless petty crimes, never paid much attention during the brief time he was in school and has vivid nightmares whenever he suffers from withdrawal. His "father" has sent Flint to the academy “to further his ability to purify the evils of man" and avoid the legal attention he was threatened with.

Any other information you'd like to share:
- Flint was sent off with a supply of the drug to use as he saw fit.
- Flint possesses eidetic memory and memorization capabilities consistent with hyperthymesia
- Flint’s talent was first discovered by Hope’s Peak faculty when his “father” managed to sell some of his drawings online for a high price, which Flint often makes in his spare time using his memories, real or hallucinatory.
- Picked up random Latin phrases from his "father". Uses them more often than he should.


@alexfangtalon I'm a fraud.
<Snipped quote by Ryik>

Wait, is this supposed to be Zack Ryder's kid? If so, awesome taste in a wrestler. Zack is awesome. They need to give him a big push.

Yes, yes it is.
Count me in. I've already got a character in mind. On that note, I'd like for them to be an American, as it's more appropriate for their talent. Might I also suggest that any time the last name is given in front of the first name, a comma is used? it would cause less confusion overall I think, as "Damian Pierce" seems to be in western format but you call your character "Hisakawa" even though you asked for names in an Eastern format.

Name: Cardona, Alex
Wrestling Name: Ryder, Seth
Talent: SHSL Swagger
Gender: ♂
Appearance:

Backstory: In his youth, he was an avid fan of professional wrestling. A bit of a mischievous child, he would often mess with fights, at first in minor ways. Since he would regularly attend events, (thanks to his parents both being professional wrestlers) this continued for quite a bit and slowly escalated. By the time he started to cause significant interference with matches, "the Ryder kid" had already gained a reputation for the excitement he induced. Every time he was involved, the matches were guaranteed some sort of subtly provided twist. Since these fights, including their outcomes, are choreographed, it was decided it would be easier to get him in on it rather than deal with a backlash that might occur from banning him. He was still too young to be allowed to wrestle of course, but he was given a wrestling persona, "Seth Ryder", which allowed greater freedom to directly interfere with fights. (For example, from the stage or out of the ring instead of from the stands) He had to abide by the guidelines he was given, but he even pushed the boundaries on that. By the time he was old enough to become a pro wrestler, his character's debut match was already one of the most hyped of the year. While he hasn't been a professional wrestler for long, writers were happy to indulge in his reputation, giving him an undefeated record.
Other information:
- Very tall
- He inherited his father's "WOO WOO WOO!" cheers.
- Despite gaining a reputation before becoming a wrestler, he did get proper training and he did develop the body for the job.
- His wrestling trunks have a qr code over the crotch. The QR Code is for his twitter. Has millions of followers.
- Has a wikipedia page (in-universe) where anyone could look up all of the above.
Koto

He stumbles yet again before picking himself and running faster.

Every dead tree in this god-forsaken excuse for a woods bears a face twisted in anger. The light bends as the twilit dusk threatens to leave him blind, and the sound of his pursuer never fades. Step by step, the sounds of twigs snapping never ends, never speeds up, as if they were walking towards him. Still yet, it only grows louder and louder, but every time he looks back, all he sees is an empty woods. He runs endlessly, already out of breath for a while now, but he can't stop. Stopping would mean certain death, or worse. The sounds of its approach suddenly speeds up, little by little. His terrified running becomes a desperate sprint, ignoring the pain in his chest that results. Even so, the sounds of its impossibly fast approach grow ever louder, deafening, and then continues to grow. He can't look back now, or he's sure he'll be caught. Even when pushing himself to run so fast, the sound of the footsteps feel like they're right behind him. They stay there for a moment, and then he feels a warm breath clearly on the nape of his neck, making his hairs stand on end. That's when he falls, tripping yet again, but unable to pick himself up and continue, light-headed and gasping for air. The sound is gone. The sun has almost completely set. The feeling of being watched never escapes him, but he has this moment at least, to breathe. A few seconds later, out of the corner of his vision, a flash of red darts behind a tree, accompanied by the sound of muffled indistinct whispers. He stands up, wincing at the pain of his overexertion and the sound of a slow pursuit picks up again. Not from the flash of red, but from directly behind him. Despite the sharp, ripping pain in his chest, he gets up and starts running yet again. Everything plays on repeat, but the exhaustion is twice as great for him. The whispers join the footsteps in a collective crescendo, becoming so loud as to hurt his ears. His feet become numb from smashing the ground so fervently. He had heard rumors of the inhumanity of his assassin, a visceral monster straight out of lovecraftian nightmares, so stained in blood that it's all his victims see. Even so, he never imagined they would be this inhuman.

Nonetheless, running is just what it wants. Clearly it can't be escaped, so it's just weakening him before going in for the kill... and it's been working.

As the whispers start giving him headaches and the sound of footsteps are right behind him again, he twirls around, only for all to stop, dead silent. Not even the wind can be heard. He looks around anxiously, scanning a full 360 degrees around him, but finds nothing but dead trees.

That's when a searing pain cuts through the nape of his neck.

He falls to the ground and turns around. He looks at it- he looks at you, but all he sees is an anatomically impossible smile. You bring the knife down on one of his arms and step on the other, pushing all your weight down on it. He struggles against your foot before you pull out another knife and push it through his wrist, pinning it as deep as you can into the ground.

You pull out a gun and use it to shoot his ankles, leaving him completely and totally at your mercy. Now comes the fun part. You retrieve your tool box and cooler from your buggy nearby and begin getting to work. After all, it's a pretty big waste to just cut into some of the more valuable parts. You begin humming a mellow tune as the sound of screams fill these deadened woods.

The perfectly relaxing evening.
I as well. A designated means of instant communication would be highly useful.
This actually reminds me of another RP I was in previously (and its many reboots) that explicitly used the term "gifted" to describe much the same thing as it means here. Hell, this RP could be a continuation of that one, except post-post-apocalyptic. In any case, I'm interested in joining:
In Ardor 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
[Damon]

Four more roombas zoom over to each individual in the room, entering from random vents in the walls. They pause at a respectful distance, cleaning up bits of sword hilt nearby.

Already, he can imagine it, every last one of them lying in a gruesome fucking pile, butchered by whatever the flying fuck those claws do. He'd be the last one to die, having to watch everyone go down before him for having failed to pick an item that wasn't a legendary pile of shit. Stupid, so fucking stupid, is was such an obvious trap, god fucking dammit. Why does he have to destroy everything he touches? Damon can't help but stop and wonder when it'll finally happen. When the proverbial looming sword of Damocles will come crashing down, throwing the dark curtain over their saccharine excursion. Kayden's acting so suspiciously benign. When will he strike? When the roomba is away? How could this situation be turned around?

Escaping now would be simple enough, but all of his friends might die as a result, and that's not the kind of outcome that can be considered acceptable. He could try provoking the roomba, but that's more likely to just draw its ire to himself. Finally, there's the prospect of attacking Kayden first, but if that became the only reason he decided to attack, everyone's deaths would all be Damon’s fault.

Damon spends a good minute or two lying down after being blasted away, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to find ways to circumvent elaborate problems which may or may not exist. His gratuitous internal turmoil is interrupted by the surely well-meaning concern of the only adult in the room. Kayden peers down at Damon, trying to make out signs of life. It takes longer than one would expect, but eventually he blinks, indicating that, yes, he is still alive.

Concerned adult and sole guardian of these four kids, Kayden is looks relieved. He opens his mouth, pauses, then tries again. “...Why aren’t you getting up?” Belatedly, he offers Damon his hand. Damon continues to be comatose for another five uninterrupted seconds of pure awkwardness before he takes Kayden’s hand and gets up. ”Thanks, I appreciate the gesture.” Damon doesn’t answer Kayden’s question at all, instead dusting himself off as he weighs the possibility of the roomba just being fucking broken to begin with.

Shrugging off the immense amount of disinterest he had garnered, Kayden attempts communication once more. “You should pick a different Soul Tech--the web and glove looked fairly promising.”

Yeah, that’s definitely not suspicious. God fucking dammit, those would have been his other choices, whatever will he do now? ”Yeah, you’re right.” Like walking into a trap on purpose, Damon tries to think of ways to, at the very least, batman gambit this son of a bitch. He then comes to the conclusion that this is fucking stupid, and that such an ultimatum would be better off resigned to when he actually has a Soul Tech to work with.

He turns to the queen of the roombas and asks the most important question in this dangerous game of life and death, the answer to which would change fate forever. ”Why is the steel string in a spiderweb pattern?”

”Dr. Nadim decided that stainless steel was aesthetically pleasing when arranged into a spiderweb.”

Meanwhile, Kayden gives up. He walks over to an empty pedestal, the roomba following, and asks it a question that the others don’t catch.

As if his world view had just been shaken at the foundation, Damon looks at the steel string in a new light, as if this bundle of metallic silly string held power over the lives of everyone here, because yeah, it probably did. He doesn’t even bother to look in the roomba’s direction this time. ”I’d like this one then,”

”Understood.” A slot on the pedestal opens up, and the spiderweb rises up out of it. The slot then closes, leaving the spiderweb on the pedestal. At the same time, the glass lowers. Off to one side, Kayden spots this and glowers at his roomba, conversing in low tones.

Damon takes the web, subconsciously bracing for impact. It somehow turns into an actual cobweb and gets stuck on his hand.

Scenes of himself using the web flash through his mind. A rope, fired from his hand, sticking to targets. Separating the rest of the rope from himself to fire the other end at another target. At Damon’s whim, things sticking to the rope, or sliding off of it. The rope contracting and flinging things together violently. The rope relaxing and sagging. One of two ropes vanishing as Damon creates a third rope.

With an expression of pure placidity, Damon withdraws the web and points it at the roomba. The rope extends, latching on to the hideous yellow hockey puck before he gives it a whirl, spinning the roomba around and smashing it violently into the pedestals. Somehow, its glass parts only get minor scratches from the collision.

”Please do not assault the self-directed cleaning units. There are fifty training dummies for that express purpose directly to your right.”

”I’m feeling pretty lied to right now.”

”I do not recall the self-directed cleaning unit having lied to you.”

”An aesthetically pleasing arrangement and indicating that it turns you into fucking spiderman are two very different things. Are you telling me I need to deal with this sticky mess just to function?”

”The ability should not leave any residues behind. If you’re referring to the activation of the Soul Tech, that will only occur upon absorption.”

Damon blinks behind his glasses. ”‘Absorption’?”

”When you touched the Soul Tech, you absorbed it.”

Damon lifts the roomba up yet again before bringing it back down, slamming it against the pedestals again. A crack forms, but the glass still holds steady. Wow. ”Couldn’t you have mentioned this earlier? Do you have any idea how much I hate spiders?” Already, he can imagine it. This stupid rope thing servicing as a makeshift noose to end this joke of an existence he’s been cursed to.

”Revealing the ability earlier would have ruined the surprise.”

”Shut up, you stupid, worthless hunk of garbage.” Damon pinches the bridge of his nose, absolutely blown away by the sheer magnitude of stupidity at work here. He feels his fingers stick to his face ever so slightly as his anxiousness increases.

“Kid, how about you don't insult our host? The one that could bring this whole place down on our heads at any moment... Kayden whispers furiously, having crossed the room with surprising speed.

...That’s an interesting reaction. Damon remains silent, appearing to ruminate broodingly as he confirms that his three friends are on the far end of the room, unable to see him. His right hand, pinching his temple, pushes his glasses up and to mask his face as it twists, tears starting to escape.

Kayden just stares awkwardly. What else could he do? Put him out of his misery? If the kid made a scene too, he might actually consider it. Kayden looks over at Damon’s friends, but they're all gleefully occupied with their own new powers. Such good friends.

“Are you sure I can't have a second Soul Tech?”

The heavily dented roomba crackles, but otherwise answers as usual. “I am sure.”

Suddenly, Damon is hugging Kayden, burying his face into his shirt and gripping uncomfortably tight. Kayden is torn between comforting the kid and violently freaking out when Damon pushes off him, looking as if absolutely nothing just happened. “Sorry, man. When I was younger, my dad was bitten by a venomous spider, and... you look a lot like him.” Walking backwards towards where they came from, Damon makes an announcement loud enough for the others to hear. ”I’m ready to go, you guys coming?” Kayden is left to wonder what the fuck just happened.

“Before you leave, please return your Soul Techs to the pedestals.” The AI’s voice echoes to the room. One might pick up a hint of frostiness in the AI’s tone.

So this is the game being played. Alright then. Your move, Kayden. With a facade of innocence, Damon turns to Kayden, as if deferring to his wisdom. ”Kayden?”

“Listen to the nice lady and put it back on the pedestal.” Kayden gives Damon a reassuring smile.

Damon’s expression manages to be completely and totally neutral. ”It’s been absorbed, remember?”

“Have you never used a Soul Tech or something??” Kayden asks rhetorically.

”Welcome to Kylertown, where only a single person in the entire town has ever used a Soul Tech. I’ll give you a hint, it isn’t any of us.

“...That’s actually amazing. What the fuck age is your town living in?!”

”It’s actually a concentration camp with no selection criteria.”

“...That ...I ...wow. Okay then. Damn. Whatever. Focus on your Soulspace and just think of removal, taking it out, lifting it out, however you want to think of it. It should appear in your hand, judging by how it disappeared in the first place.”

Damon lifts his hand, palm up, as if to say ‘well there you have it.’ Nothing happens.

Kayden blinks. “What’s the problem? Literal children can do this on their first tries. ”

Damon, without moving anything else, looks in the direction of his palm, then back at Kayden.

“...Don’t tell me you can’t. Fuck fuck fuck, god fucking dammit of course.”
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