udonoodles

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

after nine years in development, i've cleaned up victor's sheet formatting and added a sample post featuring himself and marianella. hopefully, everything is up to snuff.

ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ

---

Welcome to Japan

_{”If we don't watch the sun, it will rise.”}

---

Vincent teetered on the edge of the footpath with trepidation. He stared into the bottomless abyss of the chauffeur’s backseat, white-knuckled grip tightening into a stranglehold on the handle of his suitcase. The crisp, frosty air of the early September morning chilled him to the bone, nipped at his nose. He could feel the driver staring through the windows at him, searing a hole through what remained of his soul.
He was beginning to get the distinct feeling he’d forgotten to pack his charger.

A sudden hand pressing against his lower back jolted him out of his spiral, and nearly out of his skin.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, stumbling on his feet as he turned to see the source. “Stevie, we talked about this.”

“Vincent,” his sister addressed him with all the warmth of the exsanguinated which she resembled. Her skin was deathly pale, even by vampiric standards—anaemic, in a cruel twist of fate. “You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing.” That didn’t clarify anything.

“What thing?”

”The thing.”

“Where do you get off?”

“You do it all the time,” Stevie mused, ignoring her brother’s protests. As usual. She had her lines, and she’d stick to them. “And every time, I’ve pointed it out. And I call it the thing. And I make sure you hear me calling it the thing.”

“Okay, then, repeat it.”

“You’re trying to make yourself sick. Or cry. You’re thinking about the worst things you can so you can make yourself do something worth going home over.”
Vincent paused. She was exactly right—it had been a strategy practised and perfected over the years, finely honed. He had weaponised his anxious thinking, his tendency to overload. It was one more tool in his arsenal to avoid responsibility.

“You’re a freak.”

Steive cocked her head. “I’m right, though. You did it on your very first day, when you were a first year. You threw up, and I had to drag you back inside out of the rain like a little drowned ferret.”
Vincent pursed his lips, chewing his words into something less spiky. Yeah, he supposed she was right.

“Okay. So?”

“So shit or get off the pot. I wanna see waterworks, or I want you to get your skinny butt in that car. Or I’m going to be late.”
Shit or get off the pot. They really were related.

Vincent sighed in defeat, casting a glance over his shoulder and into the backseat. He saw it stretch endlessly away from him, the gap between the curb and the car widening into a ravenous gulf that threatened to swallow him whole should he miss the mark.

“Alright, fine.”

He tossed his suitcase halfheartedly, and it slid along the seats to his side of the car.
“You could have put that in the boot,” Stevie chimed in, watching her brother clamber in out of the cold morning.
“If you don’t stop talking, I’m jumping in front of your stupid little train the moment we get to the station. And I’ll make sure I get splattered on your dress.”
“Fair deuce.”
Stepping over the sidewalk, she pulled her headphones up from her neck and around her ears. She ducked into the car and slammed the door behind her, casting one glance back at the family manor. The engine spluttered to life, wheels cracking the ice beneath them as they turned, and moved out.

---

Orientation proved more difficult to slip out of than Vincent had anticipated. He kept waiting for the perfect moment, but it never arose—a second didn’t pass where at least one teacher wasn’t eyeing him like a hawk. So he sat there, as his stomach did somersaults and he jittered his legs frenetically beneath the table.
At least he could empathise with the weather, he thought as a roll of thunder boomed outside.
No, that was pathetic. Empathising with the weather? What was he, a sickly young Victorian woman with a penchant for pretty boys and poetry? Christ, he needed a smoke.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Just when orientation was threatening to become an inescapable quagmire of self-congratulatory, played-out platitudes, they were cut loose. Vincent bounded up for his chair and made for the halls immediately, slender frame sliding through the dregs of a crowd that was beginning to form. Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he pushed forward, speed-walking past the dorm list. Nightshade Commons this time? Really shaking things up. He hadn’t been assigned to the Commons since last year.

Vincent knew where he was going by instinct. He could close his eyes and still find his way there—but that would either look completely ridiculous or a little creepy, so he wasn’t eager to try either way. Instead, he turned on his heel and skipped towards the stairs, stepping up swiftly. He was eager to get where he was going. Very eager. Like, “oh my god, I can’t believe I roll my own cigarettes just because I think it looks cool, now I’m going to have to wait even longer before I can smoke one and I’ll be tantalised the whole time” eager.
Finally, after what felt like five seconds—because for all his faults, he had a surprisingly unflappable internal clock—he reached the crest of the stairs, hopping on his heel out onto the balcony.

Vincent slowed to a saunter, swaggering up to the edge of the balcony and casting a glance out across the academy grounds. Covered, mercifully, so he could stay up here and mope without getting wet. What had Stevie said? Drowned ferret?
Yeah. He wouldn’t end up like a drowned ferret.

With one arm, Vince leaned his elbow against the balcony rail, and with the other, he pulled his suit jacket away from his side. He dove a hand into his inner pocket, fishing around for his things. Papers, filters, tobacco—and his lighter. Gang’s all here.
He retrieved them one by one, setting them on the edge of the balcony. Putting it all together was muscle memory by now, so he could afford to look out further across the academy. Here, his stomach was settled, and he could finally ground himself. The soft noise of the rain coming down was some comfort, a pleasant white noise drowning out the distant din of student chatter. He spread the paper out, taking a pinch of tobacco and sprinkling it out. He dropped a filter in at the end, rolling it up tightly. With a lick across the paper, he folded it shut and scrunched up what remained of the skin, and it was done. His cigarette. The good stuff.

The shadows danced across his face as he struck a flame up from his lighter. He popped the end of the rollie into his mouth, bringing the fire up to ignite the business end. Deeply, Vincent inhaled, taking his first smoke-filled breath of the day. He exhaled coolly, sighing with pent-up relief.
He was here now. No getting around it. Might as well start acclimating.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

i've been really busy recently, but if a deadline hasn't passed, i'll hopefully have a sample added to vision's sheet soon. just checking in so you know i havent dropped off the face of the earth.

ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ

---

Interlude: The Non-Comformist Oath

_{”I promise not to repeat things other people say!”}

---

Eli negotiated the end of his pencil between his two molars. His brow furrowed, he reread over his notes, again and again. Atop the page was the header, ”The Most Memorable Six Years of My Life”.
Underneath, his notes.

Wyrmwood Forest was his immediate focus. It was foolishness from the staff, really. Hey, I’m here to remind you that this forest with the really cool name is off-limits. I'm not going to tell you why it's off limits, though. I'm just reminding you of its existence and strongly advising against going there. Don't go there, by the way, wink wink. He figured there was a grey area between “honest mistake” and “deliberate trespass”, and that's where Eli was keen to operate.

The third and ninth sections of the library, too, seemed a pressing matter. He figured he’d spend quite a lot of his time there, after all, so uncovering the secret of why those sections were so closely guarded was certainly a pressing matter. God, listen to him. Uncovering the secret. Certainly a pressing matter. What was it about unfamiliar situations that turned him into Ms. Marple?

His last major point of contention was the headmaster’s final warning of safety. Warning of safety, he repeated inside his head. A Freudian slip to the self, revealing how he truly felt about that message. It was certainly odd for the headmaster to emphasise that. Like assuring your dinner party guests the food was perfectly unposioned. All he could think was, which poison?

“Nightshade,” he mumbled beneath his breath, running his finger along the dorm list to find his name. Did they seriously name their dorm rooms after deadly poisons? Nightshade and Hemlock? Looked like he was going to be bunking with the Trueloves and the Valentines in Nightshade Commons. Eli cast a glance to his side, smirking at the irony of such romantic names, before he remembered he was alone.

Yeah. He should probably fix that.

So, while everyone filtered into one dorm or the other, Eli turned the charm up. He clasped his hands behind his back, teetering up and down on his heels as he idly strolled along the hall, humming Ella Fitzgerald’s Blue Moon to himself. He looked lost, he hoped. Approachable, but in a condescending, supervisory capacity, like a lone child in a supermarket.

ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ

Vincent | Vampire

VINCENT TRUELOVE

♫

_______________________________________________ VINCENT TRUELOVE | HOMOSEXUAL | F72D84 | VAMPIRE ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ TWENTY THREE | CIS MALE | 5'8" | FIFTH YEAR ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ INTELLIGENT, QUICK-WITTED, EMOTIONALLY STABLE, EARNEST, HUMBLE ☁ HEDONISTIC, SNARKY, VINDICTIVE, DUPLICITOUS, NOSY, RECKLESS, SELF-DESTRUCTIVE ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ LIKES DRINKS WITH FRIENDS DRINKS WITH STRANGERS DRINKS ALONE VIOLIN-PLAYING NIGHTS OUT LIVE MUSIC SKETCHING, PAINTING RAINY DAYS FLOWERS FASHION MEN DISLIKES AUTHORITY UNTIDINESS CONSEQUENCE DODGING OVER-ENTHUSIASM UNPLANNED SCHEDULE CHANGES BAD HAIR DAYS PERSONAL SPACE VIOLATIONS MEAT TOO MUCH ALONE TIME TOO LITTLE ALONE TIME

s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ STRENGTHS MINIMUM OF 3 STRENGTHS ☀ WOULD YOU KINDLY? - Vincent has a certain way with words. The Trueloves have always been exceptionally persuasive individuals, their mastery of barter and deal-striking ensuring lucrative financial success. Vince isn't so concerned with the business side, but he’s certainly inherited the people skills: Through a mix of logical reasoning and sweet talking charm, he tends to get what he wants. ☀ CHESSMASTER - Before the Trueloves were aristocrats and noblemen, they were mercenaries and warlords. Thus, in their blood runs a keen sense for fatal flaws: They can easily get a read on people, building a mental profile on them and picking apart their strengths and weaknesses to find a gap in the armour. Vincent doesn't use this skill in quite as hostile a manner: Rather, he pays attention to little signals, spoken and unspoken, to discern a person’s disposition, intentions and emotional state. It proves exceptionally useful when attempting to persuade them. ☀? LEAD LIVER - Vincent can outdrink you. Yes, you. Whoever you are. ☀ PATRON OF THE ARTS - Vincent’s knowledge of art is extensive, as is his skill in it. He can speed draw to quickly capture details, and can effortlessly recall the history of many artworks, both world famous and obscure—to the point that he may be able to differentiate between forgeries and originals, given enough time. WEAKNESSES ☁ REFINED TASTE - Vincent can't settle for second best. He has a hard time accepting imperfection, and is quick to criticise perceived faults. This extends beyond the abstract: He cannot afford to cheap out. His food, drink and clothes must always be of a high quality—subpar food and drink can actually turn his stomach as though it were rotten. ☁ SENSORY OVERLOAD - Vincent is prone to having his senses overload if receiving too much input, requiring him to withdraw and calm down. ☁ SELF-DOUBT - Vincent doesn't trust himself, and is his own worst critic. He often needs another person as a sounding board to validate and approve of his ideas before he'll put them into action. OUTLOOK / IDEALS / PERSPECTIVE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ For a vampire, Vincent is quite forward thinking. Owing to his attempts to combat his family's unrelenting traditions, he does his best to forget the stereotypes assigned to each group. Of vampires, Vincent is ironically most wary. His main exposure to them has been his family, and the sort of vampires that consort with his family. Thus, he's weary of their constant politics and doublecrossing, and keeps himself on guard whenever he meets someone new. He has an especial distaste for the vampires that advocate a a return to feeding: He finds it to be barbaric, and repulsive. Of werewolves, Vincent has a great deal of respect for them. He admires how they can stick together and work as one without needing to one-up or usurp each other. Though it of course has its faults, the wolf concept of community is the best way forward in Vince's eyes. Of course, being a vampire from a particularly infamous family, werewolves don't tend to respect Vincent back—a fact he laments greatly. Of humans, Vincent feels a certain duty of care. He admires their ability to rein in both vampires and werewolves, and as such would side with them if push ever came to shove. Still, they are just humans: One would expect them to be outmatched compared to fang and fur, so Vince feels the need to act as a "big brother" or sorts—especially towards new Academy alumni, or those who haven't quite grasped the supernatural just yet. AMBITIONS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ Vincent’s initial ambitions seem materialistic—and certainly, he enjoys indulgence perhaps more than he ought to. Underneath his hedonistic exterior, however, Vincent plots the downfall of his bloodline: His ultimate goal is to realise a world where the supernatural cannot harm themselves, each other, or the mundane populace. He wants to forge alliances, build bridges, and crush the conflict and tribalism that his family once profited from. He loathes the stereotypes on all sides, and is eager to tear them down and stand with his fellow supernaturals rather than against them. Equally, he seeks to prove the expectations of the Trueloves’ enemies wrong: He is nothing like his family, and demands to be judged as an individual rather than by the actions of his ancestors. FEARS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ Vincent’s greatest fear is a lack of strength. He fears he does not have the willpower to resist his family’s machinations: That eventually, his parents will wear down his rebellion, and he’ll fall in line like all the rest. Often, it feels as if the world is against him, and discouragement is around every corner. Equally terrifying to him is his lack of self-control—if he can't control himself in day to day life, how can he control himself on a larger scale? How can he guarantee that, in an effort to undermine them, he won't become exactly like his family? в í σ g r α p h ч ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ No clan embodies the vampire stereotype of ruthless, egomaniacal conquerors quite like the Trueloves. Indeed, flowery and fairytale as it may be, Truelove isn't their true surname—it was changed sometime in the 1800s, their old name scrubbed relentlessly from history. In the ancient past, they were unrelenting warmongers, working fervently to annihilate the werewolf population. Their cruelty reached heights that made even many of their co-conspirators blush—though the exact acts have been lost to history, it isn't uncommon for long-lived supernaturals to succinctly describe the Fang and Wolf era Trueloves as simply “evil”. All of it was done in the name of profit: The Trueloves cared not for their fellow supernaturals. They were mercenaries, hunters, and in a time of bloodshed, they seized the opportunity to turn a profit and establish themselves. As the years passed, the Trueloves’ business evolved, scrubbing the previous chapter from the annals of history to make way for the next. They became lords, war profiteers, arms dealers, gangsters, CEOs, conquerors—whatever let them amass their fortune further, they’d pursue, always skirting around the outside of the law. As they built their empire, so too did they build their resentment: Their name became synonymous with the backstabbing subterfuge vampires were known for, and were loathed by even their fellow Fanged. In kind, the Trueloves had no allegiance to the supernatural, no true side to take in conflicts: They operated amorally, establishing themselves as their own faction seeking to profit from and undermine both sides. They were leeches, carrion feeders, picking apart friend and foe alike to become more powerful. Their doublecrossing duplicity extended even to their own bloodline: Cousins betrayed cousins, brothers betrayed brothers, and children usurped their parents, keeping the bloodline narrow and centralised. As time went on, however, it became readily apparent to the supernatural community that the Trueloves were not to be trusted. Even their name change couldn't save them—the wealthy and influential spurned them, mutually agreed to refuse to do business with them. Pushed out of a lucrative market, they were forced to adapt or die: Though the very thought made them nauseous, the Trueloves had to humble themselves. So the Trueloves chose to die. It would have been a slow, painful, clawing death, like a cornered animal. They did all they could to cling to their fortune, exploring whatever avenues they could. Their wealth took heavy hits, as did their reputation—but, gradually, throughout the 20th century, they managed to slowly recover. The death they had been condemned to was delayed—fitting for a family of immortals. Cooperation was tantamount to their success: If they couldn't pull together as a family, they would eat each other alive. This was what Vincent was told: The future of the Trueloves rested on his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, such a lofty legacy paired with such lofty responsibility did not do the young Vince any favours. He burnt out at an early age, taking to the lessons from his parents half-heartedly and self medicating with whatever dopamine rush he could find. The history of his family and the legacy he inherited horrified him—he did everything he could to run from it, drown it. There was nothing about the history of the Trueloves that Vincent wanted to help keep alive, nothing about vampirism he admired. Quietly, he works against his family's machinations, spurning his duties and drowning his guilt however he can. He’s desperate for a way out, a way to bury the hatchet and bring his bloodline to justice—and he’ll do whatever he has to in order to reach that goal.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

porting this over from the interest check. again, unfinished, but i'll update it and inform the GMs when it's ready: it's mostly to get my idea out there for potential collaboration and let people who may have missed it know when i'm planning.

Victor (no longer a big ol W.I.P.)

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E V I S I O N

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^{_{V I C T O R ♦ S U P E R H E R O ♦ S T A R K T O W E R ♦ S T A R K I N D U S T R I E S}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Personality module engaged. Victor online."}

In the 1940s, Howard Stark had a vision. Working closely with the United States government on various clandestine projects, he foresaw their true potential: Some only saw in present tense—their ideas were purely contemporary, focusing on the best ways to exploit their discoveries in their battle against the Axis Powers. But Howard looked ahead, and saw the true meaning of this discovery—the world, changing as they knew it. Technology evolving rapidly on a scale which hadn't been seen since the Industrial Revolution. With that change came an opportunity for harmony and evolution—and with harmony and evolution came the balancing forces of discord and desolation. Their discoveries could bring about a golden age of humanity, or allow terror and strife to run rampant and scorch the Earth. They could not hope to possibly understand the gravity of what they had uncovered—but they could still plan for its consequences. A solution had to be put in place now, to safeguard the future from uncertainty. In a world of great power, responsibility would be humanity's only hope of survival.

So began Project Vision. Howard's "vision" of a world enriched by technology, not unbalanced by it, would be made real. It began as a mere concept in the mid 40s, though the discovery of extra-terrestrial life encouraged Mr. Stark to expedite his development process. Howard threw himself into his work, devoting every second he could to crafting new ways to implement his vision.

As the years progressed, many concepts were explored: The first few years of the project were a dead-end, focused on an ultimately fruitless attempt to recreate the super-soldier serum. Weaponry was considered, but shelved after R&D failed to reverse engineer the salvaged Kree technology. In later years, A.I. was pursued, but soon after abandoned due to the limitations of technology at the time.
The project was a Sisyphean task, paused and abandoned and restarted time and time again, as responsibilities pulled Howard's attention elsewhere. It received a lifeline in the form of tentative interest from the SHIELD organisation. Intrigued, they assisted with funding and headhunting for top minds to assist Howard and lighten the burden. It was through this that Howard began to cultivate an inner circle of like-minded individuals, and Project Vision began to truly take shape.

The answer had always been right in front of him, as this circle helped him realise: The mutants that had kick-started his epiphany all those years ago. After decades of their now-public existence, it became clear that these mutants had extraordinary powers—powers that could be harnessed for the good of humanity. But the good of "humanity" was exactly what gave Mr. Stark pause: In the recent years, groups like the Brotherhood of Mutants had made it clear that there was a deep gulf between "humans" and "mutants". The ordinary populace was rife with distrust for the mutants, and many felt the same vice-versa. For this to truly be the answer to Project Vision's question, the power had to be divorced from the politics: An impartial being, neither human nor mutant, had to be the one to safeguard the world.

Cooperation between Howard and the inner circle led to the creation of a miniaturised Arc Reactor, intended to act as the metaphorical "heart" of their creation. Basic prototypes were constructed, creating artificial intelligences that could draw upon the immense power of the Reactor to enable real, human-like thoughts. They could respond to stimuli, imagine, dream, and even converse.
Soon, however, the concept the inner circle had envisioned began to seem unreachable. Their forward-thinking was their Achilles' Heel: Their ideal creation was too advanced, impossible to create with the technology of their time. Disagreements arose about the best course of action, the flames of discourse stoked by an increasingly paranoid Howard Stark. Soon, he began to shut others out of the project, fearful it would collapse when they had come so close. SHIELD's mothballing cut off a significant portion of funding, further limiting their prospects. Many collaborators dropped from the project, now without a source of income to justify their participation.

Then, rather abruptly, Howard's paranoia paid off: He and his wife were assassinated by agents of HYDRA, the crime scene carefully planned so as to resemble a car accident. With most collaborators either having quit or been shut out, Project Vision came to an indefinite end. All files relating to the project were shelved, stuffed away in the archives of Stark Industries. The technology developed was put to use elsewhere, provided it could be reverse-engineered.

Howard's vision proved prophetic. As he had foreseen, the planet needed defenders—the Chitauri Invasion was his nightmare, made real. Mercifully, the worst had been avoided, but the war nonetheless took a brutal toll on humanity. For the millions left behind with lasting psychological damage, they chose many different methods of coping with their collective trauma. Some lashed out at the world around them, forming militant groups reminiscent of those from the 80s. Some put their hope in the heroes that had saved them, and looked towards the future. Others, like Marianella Mancha, looked to the past.

Marianella Mancha, an employee at Stark Industries, was the one to uncover the plans for Project Vision. She, like Howard Stark, was resolute in the opinion that the world needed a saviour—and that technology would be that saviour. Rooting through the files to find answers to the questions that the Invasion posed, she happened upon Project Vision—available for all employees, but simply ignored until now.

With the backing of a rekindled partnership with SHIELD, Marianella was successful in pitching the revival of Project Vision to Stark Industries' board of directors and CEO. Now, with the technology that Howard lacked, she could see his vision made manifest.

After nearly thirteen years in development, the project had finally reached its completion. An Arc Reactor served as the heart of the creation, as intended. Though its body was built and not grown, DNA lived in its synthetic organs—Mancha's own, selectively edited to account for the absence of a father. Satisfying all five major characters of life, their creation was a new type of being, neither mutant nor human. They named their creations' species as Synthezoid, and named their creation themself as the Vision. It was the last in a long line of attempts, and thus was worthy of the moniker Howard had dreamed of bestowing. Later, however, he chose a name for himself: Victor.

However ethically dubious one may find it, Victor effectively lives as an employee of Stark Industries. He carries out his work defending humanity, and in return is provided with food and shelter. What exactly he is, and whether he is truly living, is up for debate—and that debate serves as a legal firestorm for the lawyers of Stark Industries to shield themselves from any potential ethics breaches. For better or for worse, the Vision is here to stay.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Necessary NPCs for Victor include Howard Stark (deceased) and Marianella Mancha. Other NPCS or player characters can be included in Project Vision's "inner circle" to allow connections if interest is expressed.

Marianella Mancha is Victor's supervisor, as the head of Project Vision. Work is ongoing to improve and develop upon him, though hampered by Ms. Mancha's ethical reservations.

As a Synthezoid, Victor's body functions very differently from that of a human.

Victor is powered by an Arc Reactor. Thus, he does not need food for the purposes of energy.
Victor's organs are made of a synthetic material designed to mimic organic tissue. Thus, by eating, he can immediately provide his body with the necessary materials to repair damage.
Rather than blood, a stream of microscopic nanites flow through Victor's veins. Though not as advanced as the likes of the Bleeding Edge nanites, they can break down food into raw materials to self-replicate and repair. Victor can control these nanites through thought, directing them in the process of repair. These nanites contain Victor's DNA.
Due to Victor's highly irregular anatomy, he is immune to diseases, drugs and poisons that afflict humans and animals. Theoretically, however, it may be possible to design a special synthetic virus capable of infecting his nanites. Likewise, most third-party healing abilities do not work on him, and he would be unable to gain any benefits from something like the Super-Soldier Serum.
Victor does not need to sleep. However, he can enter a hibernation phase akin to sleep. In this phase, all processes except repair are disabled, allowing it to be carried out at a greatly accelerated rate.

Victor's normal shape greatly resembles that of the standard, red-skinned Vision of Earth-616. However, his complete control over his body allows him to restructure and alter his appearance into the more human-like form he commonly takes. Theoretically, he could take on other forms, potentially even mimicking the appearance of others, however Victor refuses to do so on moral, as well as practical, grounds. It took tremendous work and concentration to even be able to shift between his human and "Vision" self: To take on another form would certainly be just as difficult. Victor's form can also revert to his original, red-skinned self entirely or in localised areas after sustaining enough damage.

Victor was designed to mimic the powers of mutants, and thus possesses "powers" of his own.

Victor's nanite blood can interface with and control technology. Most notably, they can pass data from a device into Victor's brain.
Via thrusters on his hands and feet, Victor can levitate and fly.
Due to his unique biology, Victor possesses greatly enhanced strength, durability and stamina.
Victor's fingers are capable of firing blasts of energy. Each finger can fire energy individually, can group up for a "shotgun" spread blast, or they can coalesce their blasts to form a concentrated beam.
Victor can detach limbs and allow them to function separately, by puppeteering them with his nanite blood.
Victor's brain is incredibly advanced, heightening his reaction times and making him highly intelligent.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

“Good evening, and welcome to Newsfront. I’m Christine Everheart, reporting live on the news that matters most to you. Now, coming up on our program, we’ll have more on the recent Vortex incident in New York, and we’ll be hearing more from the American ambassador to the UN on the future of the Sentinel program. But first, our top story tonight: Neither man nor mutant, but hero. Those are the words of Stark Industries CEO Obadiah Stane concerning the Vision, Stark’s answer to the Sentinels and a so-called new form of life. But just what sets a Synthezoid apart from humanity, and can they be trusted to protect us? Well, earlier today, we got our first look at the Vision, as…”
Reaching forward, a weathered hand took hold of the radio’s dial, cranking the volume down to total silence. He didn’t need to hear that, Marianella reasoned. And frankly, neither did she.

She smiled reassuringly across the stainless steel table. Victor met it with a curious gaze, his smile less reassured and more pleasantly puzzled.
“You’re smiling,” he noted cheerily. “That means you have bad news.”

Marianella sighed, the stifled chuckles of the researchers in the observatory not going unheard. Sometimes, she thought Victor was too clever for his own good.
“Well, not bad news, exactly. You remember Mr. Stane, don’t you?”

Victor nodded.
“Bald,” he described succinctly. “Oh, is this a memory test? I can recall further details, if you’d like. I distinctly remember detecting traces of Minoxidil—”

“No, Victor, that’s alright,” Marianella brought him to a stop with a raised hand. It was almost Pavlovian, at this point: A raised hand with straight fingers meant stop, and a thumbs up meant go. That was interesting—more demonstrated capacity to learn and adapt over the long-term.

“You’re calling me Victor,” he sounded pleased.

“That’s what you like to be called, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The others didn’t warm to his insistence on personhood quite as quickly as Dr. Mancha. But then, she’d always had a special relationship with him—they did, after all, share the same blood.
“Okay, Victor. Today, you were on a mission. And it went well, but there were a few snags, weren’t there?”

“Snags,” he echoed. “Yes. My cape was snagged on several occasions. I find this…” He furrowed his brow. “...Inefficient design. Perhaps if it were prehensile—”

“Well, yes, but I meant snags in the more…Figurative sense. Remember, figures of speech?”

Victor “ahh”ed in understanding, nodding his head with a once again raised brow.
“Yes! I am as cool as a cucumber. By snags, you meant impediments to my combat performance?”

Marianella clapped her hands together, nodding.
“Exactly, yes. Well, as I said before, Mr. Stane thinks it would be worthwhile if we could download your memories to review.”

Victor’s expression hardened again, his tone more serious than before.
“I object,” he declared succinctly. “My memories are mine alone. Copying them would undermine my individuality.” Victor glared straight past Dr. Mancha, into the mirror that he knew was one-way. “I am a person. I have intellect.”
There was a silence. Awkward, uneasy.. Marianella’s eyes shifted around the room. Victor’s shoulders were tense.
Finally, he spoke.
“However,” he was lighter, now, the tension in his body dissipating. “I would not object to sharing them orally. That is how humans share, isn’t it?”

Marianella paused to consider the proposition. The higher-ups objected to anything that could solidify Victor’s claims to personhood: The more he saw himself as an individual, the more dangerous he became, the more difficult it was to justify his continued existence to the scrutinous UN.
“Well, yes,” Dr. Mancha reasoned, nodding slowly. “If…” She considered her words carefully. “...That would make you more comfortable, we can just talk about how you think things went.”

“Excellent,” Victor nodded, leaning back in his chair. “As you know, I was dispatched to deal with a supervillain threat in the Flatiron Public Plaza, as I recall…”

This was going to go down terribly at the next board meeting. The moment she walked out that door, her colleagues were going to rip into her as unprofessional and dangerous. Jeopardising Victor in an attempt to protect him.
But they could kiss her ass, frankly.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ

Jojo | Werewolf

JONATHAN HEWSON

♫

_______________________________________________ JONATHAN "JOJO" HEWSON | HOMOSEXUAL | 32a85a | WEREWOLF ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ TWENTY TWO | CIS MALE | 5'11" | FOURTH YEAR ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ OPTIMISTIC, TRUSTWORTHY, EXTROVERTED, CHARISMATIC ☁ MERCURIAL, DRAMATIC, SCATTERBRAINED, IMPULSIVE ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ LIKES THE BEACH OUTDOORS DANCING FLAVOURED TEA EARLY MORNINGS JEWELLERY DISLIKES COFFEE SAD ENDINGS BEING YELLED AT SPICY FOOD SOLITUDE CATS

s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ STRENGTHS ☀ LONE STAR - Jonathan is strong-willed and independently minded, and isn't easily swayed or charmed. Those with duplicitous intentions will find it difficult to control him. ☀ FARM DOG - With an agricultural background, Jojo's powers have adapted to farm-life. He is incredibly agile and precise in his movements, with a fearsome growl and the ability to differentiate people and animals by their scents. ☀ SUNFLOWER - Jojo is incredibly, infectiously optimistic. He's always able to pick out the silver lining and look on the bright side of situations. ☀ DISCIPLINED - From his time on the farm, Jonathan has good control over his powers around others. He isn't easily overwhelmed by them, even during a full moon. WEAKNESSES ☁ RUNT OF THE LITTER - For a werewolf, Jonathan's strength leaves much to be desired. ☁ ACADEMICALLY CHALLENGED - Jojo hasn't really taken to any of the subjects at the Academy. He's a practical learner, and gets little out of poring over textbooks or listening to lectures. ☁ THAT'S IT? - Jojo hasn't felt at home under the full moon for a while. For him, the bolstering effects of the moon are stunted. ☁ PARANOIA - Jonathan is mistrustful of others, second-guessing their intentions and suspecting the worst. This makes it difficult for him to bridge the gap socially, and takes some effort on the part of another to work through. OUTLOOK / IDEALS / PERSPECTIVE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Naturally, Jojo is distrustful of vampires. It's a skin-deep distrust: Frankly, he's never understood why he should automatically have to oppose an entire group of supernatural beings just because "they're meant to be enemies". But generally, those on the other side don't share his opinions—thus, erring on the side of caution is usually the right move. Of werewolves, Jonathan is equally as distrustful—but for reasons more complex and justifiable. He is especially tired of the pack mentality and the tribal hierarchy of alphas, and does his best to divorce himself from werewolf tradition as much as possible. Of humans, Jonathan is jealous. Unlike werewolves or vampires, they're free to express themselves and live their lives as they see fit. There are no drawbacks to their abilities, no archaic traditions binding them to a certain way of doing, thinking or being. If he could, Jonathan would surrender his werewolf blood to become a human in a heartbeat. AMBITIONS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ More than anything else, Jonathan desires freedom. He wants to be free from everything he cannot control—his family and his heritage most pressingly. Jonathan wants to create his own destiny, to be the ruler of his own life. He does not want someone to make the decisions for him, and likewise does not want to make decisions for others. Jonathan wants to walk the Earth without being burdened by expectations, to be defined by what he does rather than what he is. Paradoxically, Jojo is just as afraid of uncertainty: He is terrified as his closes in ever further on his final years at Hawthorne. His life is still in disarray, his future still uncertain—is his future doomed to be a bleak one? Is it even possible to recover, to overcome his circumstances and live a life worth living? FEARS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ Jonathan fears responsibility. He fears binding himself to a person, place or creed. He does not want to define what his life should be so early—he does not want to plan the path ahead. He does not want to be obligated to another, or to owe them in any way. He does not want to be restrained or confined, nor judged for factors outside of his control. в í σ g r α p h ч ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ Family was everything to the Hewsons. That's what Jonathan—later affectionately dubbed "Jojo" by his younger sisters—had drilled into him from day one. They were a simple, traditional family, according to his father: They worked the land, their boys married girls and their girls married boys, and they'd sooner spit in a vampire's eye than shake their hand. Community was popular amongst most werewolves, but the Hewsons took it to an insular extreme. They had little to no contact with others outside of the family—any romantic partners would be vetted and introduced by the parents. None of them went to the Academies, decried by Mr. Hewson as institutions of pomposity and bureaucracy. They were all home-schooled instead by their mother and older sisters, taught to work in the fields and with the animals of their farm by their father and older brothers. This was the unshakeable tradition that had continued for so long in the Hewson family—and it was a tradition Jojo was determined to break. Rebellion began early, silently. It was a quiet, bubbling resentment for his lot in life—he hadn't, after all, been taught to vocalise his emotions. He expressed it in silent ways, subtly working against his family's plans for him. Then, he began to grow more bold, as his family's hand in his life became heavier. Their attempts to whip him into shape were fruitless, and their patience grew thin with Jojo over the years. Time and time again, he would prove himself an unpredictable force: He would do as he liked, without regard for the demands of other. Even after heavy punishment, he would not relent—on the contrary, it seemed to embolden him. As Jojo grew older, his family became more desperate to get him under control. They presented him with an ultimatum: If he didn't shape up by his eighteenth birthday, they'd send him away to live with his grandparents. If Jojo thought he was strict, his father had warned, wait until he was living under his grandparents' roof. The weeks passed. Jojo's eighteenth birthday came and went. His family's tune had changed, and dismally so: Now that he was an adult, they were kicking him out. They'd talked to his grandparents and came to that conclusion—he was a disgrace, he embarrassed his family name, and he wouldn't be a Hewson any longer. He had a month to sort things out, and then he'd be out. His parents were heartbroken, but they could see no alternative—so insular was their community that they couldn't possibly foresee a place for someone who refused to fall in line. Panicked, Jojo reached for a lifeline. Now eighteen, the Academy that his family had scorned for so many years would open its doors to him. There was nowhere else for him to go—nowhere he could stay, no other path his life could take. Motivated purely by pragmatism, Jojo accepted the call, and joined the student ranks of Hawthorne Academy. Here he would stay, to pick up the broken pieces of his life and create something new.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay

i understand the ooc hasn't been posted yet, but i figured i'd share what i have for my character sheet so far anyways. there's no sample post or fancy formatting yet, and i only gave it a cursory proofread, but i thought it would be good to make my ideas known and potentially receive some early feedback for fine-tuning.

Victor (big ol W.I.P.)

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E V I S I O N

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^{_{V I C T O R ♦ S U P E R H E R O ♦ S T A R K T O W E R ♦ S T A R K I N D U S T R I E S}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Personality module engaged. Victor online."}

In the 1940s, Howard Stark had a vision. Working closely with the United States government on various clandestine projects, he foresaw their true potential. Some only saw in present tense—their ideas were purely contemporary, focusing on the best ways to exploit their discoveries in their battle against the Axis Powers. But Howard looked ahead, and saw the true meaning of this discovery—the world, changing as they knew it. Technology evolving rapidly on a scale which hadn't been seen since the Industrial Revolution. With that change came an opportunity for harmony and evolution—and with harmony and evolution came the balancing forces of discord and desolation. Their discoveries could bring about a golden age of humanity, or allow terror and strife to run rampant and scorch the Earth. They could not hope to possibly understand the gravity of what they had uncovered—but they could still plan for its consequences. A solution had to be put in place now, to safeguard the future from uncertainty. In a world of boundless power, responsibility would be humanity's only hope of survival.

So began Project Vision. Howard's "vision" of a world enriched by technology, not unbalanced by it, would be made real. It began as a mere concept in the mid 40s, though the discovery of extra-terrestrial life encouraged Mr. Stark to speed up his development process. Howard threw himself into his work, devoting every second he could to crafting new ways to implement his vision.

As the years progressed, many concepts were explored: The first few years of the project were a dead-end, focused on an ultimately fruitless attempt to recreate the super-soldier serum. Weaponry was considered, but shelved after R&D failed to reverse engineer the salvaged Kree technology. In later years, A.I. was pursued, but soon after abandoned due to the limitations of technology at the time.
The project was a Sisyphean task, paused and abandoned and restarted time and time again, as responsibilities pulled Howard's attention elsewhere. The project received tentative interest from the SHIELD organisation, who assisted with funding and headhunting for top minds to assist Howard and lighten the burden. It was through this that Howard began to cultivate an inner circle of like-minded individuals, and Project Vision began to truly take shape.

The answer had always been right in front of him, as this circle helped him realise: The mutants that had kick-started his epiphany all those years ago. After decades of their now public existence, it became clear that these mutants had extraordinary powers—powers that could be harnessed for the good of humanity. But the good of "humanity" was exactly what gave Mr. Stark pause: In the recent years, groups like the Brotherhood of Mutants had made it clear that there was a deep gulf between "humans" and "mutants". The ordinary populace was rife with distrust for the mutants, and many felt the same vice-versa. For this to truly be the answer to Project Vision's question, the power had to be divorced from the politics: An impartial being, neither human or mutant, had to be the one to safeguard the world.

Cooperation Howard and the inner circle led to the creation of a miniaturised Arc Reactor, intended to act as the metaphorical "heart" of their creation. Basic prototypes were constructed, creating artificial intelligences that could draw upon the immense power of the Reactor to enable real, human-like thoughts. They could respond to stimuli, imagine, dream, and even converse.
Soon, however, the concept the inner circle had envisioned began to seem unreachable. Their forward-thinking was their Achilles' Heel: Their ideal creation was too advanced, impossible to create with the technology of their time. Disagreements arose about the best course of action, the flames of discourse stoked by an increasingly paranoid Howard Stark. Soon, he began to shut others out of the project, fearful it would collapse when they had come so close. SHIELD's mothballing cut off a significant portion of funding, further limiting their prospects. Many collaborators dropped from the project, now without a source of income to justify their participation.

Then, rather abruptly, Howard's paranoia paid off: He and his wife were assassinated by agents of HYDRA, the crime scene carefully planned so as to resemble a car accident. With most collaborators either having quit or been shut out, Project Vision came to an indefinite end. All files relating to the project were shelved, stuffed away in the archives of Stark Industries. The technology developed was put to use elsewhere, provided it could be reverse-engineered.

Howard's vision proved prophetic. As he had foreseen, the planet needed defenders—the Chitauri Invasion was his worst nightmare, made real. Mercifully, the worst had been avoided, but the war nonetheless took a brutal toll on humanity. For the millions left behind with lasting psychological damage, they chose many different methods of coping with their collective trauma. Some lashed out at the world around them, forming militant groups reminiscent of those from the 80s. Some put their hope in the heroes that had saved them, and looked towards the future. Others, like Marianella Mancha, looked to the past.

Marianella Mancha, an employee at Stark Industries, was the one to uncover the plans for Project Vision. She, like Howard Stark, was resolute in the opinion that the world needed a saviour—and that technology would be that saviour. Rooting through the files to find answers to the questions that the Invasion posed, she happened upon Project Vision—available for all employees, but simply ignored until now.

With the backing of a rekindled partnership with SHIELD, Marianella was successful in pitching the revival of Project Vision to Stark Industries' board of directors and CEO. Now, with the technology that Howard lacked, she could see his vision made manifest.

After nearly thirteen years in development, the project had finally reached its completion. An Arc Reactor served as the heart of the creation, as intended. Though its body was built and not grown, DNA lived in its synthetic organs—Mancha's own, selectively edited to account for the absence of a father. Satisfying all five major characters of life, their creation was a new type of being, neither mutant nor human. They named their creations' species as Synthezoid, and named their creation as Victor. Victor was the last in a long line of attempts, and thus was worthy of the moniker of the Vision.

However ethically dubious one may find it, Victor effectively lives as an employee of Stark Industries. He carries out his work defending humanity, and in return is provided with food and shelter. What exactly he is, and whether he is truly living, is up for debate—and that debate serves as a legal firestorm for the lawyers of Stark Industries to shield themselves from any potential ethics breaches. For better or for worse, the Vision is here to stay.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Necessary NPCs for Victor include Howard Stark (deceased) and Marianella Mancha. Other NPCS or player characters can be included in Project Vision's "inner circle" to allow connections if interest is expressed.

Marianella Mancha is Victor's supervisor, as the head of Project Vision. Work is ongoing to improve and develop upon him, though hampered by Ms. Mancha's ethical reservations.

As a Synthezoid, Victor's body functions very differently from that of a human.

Victor is powered by an Arc Reactor. Thus, he does not need food for the purposes of energy.
Victor's organs are made of a synthetic material designed to mimic organic tissue. Thus, by eating, he can immediately provide his body with the necessary materials to repair damage.
Rather than blood, a stream of microscopic nanites flow through Victor's veins. Though not as advanced as the likes of the Bleeding Edge nanites, they can break down food into raw materials to self-replicate and repair. Victor can control these nanites through thought, directing them in the process of repair. These nanites contain Victor's DNA.
Due to Victor's highly irregular anatomy, he is immune to diseases that afflict humans and animals. Theoretically, however, it may be possible to design a special synthetic virus capable of infecting his nanites. Likewise, most third-party healing abilities do not work on him, and he would be unable to gain any benefits from something like the Super-Soldier Serum.
Victor does not need to sleep. However, he can enter a hibernation phase akin to sleep. In this phase, all processes except repair are disabled, allowing it to be carried out at a greatly accelerated rate.

Victor's normal shape greatly resembles that of the standard, red-skinned Vision of Earth-616. However, his complete control over his body allows him to restructure and alter his appearance into the more human-like form he commonly takes. Theoretically, he could take on other forms, potentially even mimicking the appearance of others, however Victor refuses to on moral, as well as practical, grounds. It took tremendous work and concentration to even be able to shift between his human and "Vision" self: To take on another form would certainly be just as difficult. Victor's form can also revert to his original, red-skinned self entirely or in localised areas after sustaining enough damage.

Victor was designed to mimic the powers of mutants, and thus possesses "powers" of his own.

Victor's nanite blood can interface with and control technology. Most notably, they can pass data from a device into Victor's brain.
Via thrusters on his hands and feet, Victor can levitate and fly.
Due to his unique biology, Victor possesses greatly enhanced strength, durability and stamina.
Victor's fingers are capable of firing blasts of energy. Each finger can fire energy individually, or they can coalesce their blasts to form a concentrated beam.
Victor can detach limbs and allow them to function separately, by puppeteering them with his nanite blood.
Victor's brain is incredibly advanced, heightening his reaction times and making him highly intelligent.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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TBA

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay

would howard stark and, by extension, stark industries, have had any presence worth noting in this timeline? i'm trying to conceptualise a spin on vision, and i was thinking of tying him back to them.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay

interested, if there's still room!