Prolecto Application
Mar. 13th, 2012 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faygospectrumPLAYER INFO.
Name: J-chan
Age: 21
Timezone: Central Pacific
Methods of contact: Plurk: Jashinchan AIM: JChanoftheGods
Characters you currently play: Bro Strider and England/Arthur Kirkland
I am apping my character from another game: No
CHARACTER INFO.
? BASIC
Character Name: Gamzee Makara
Character Age: 18
Aging Up?: Yes
Canon & Canon Point: Homestuck - Post Flipout, after some sloppy post-mortem makouts and rap-offs.
? DEPTH.
History: http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Gamzee_Makara
Personality: The instincts of a troll are a delicate thing, operating upon both birthright and circumstance. A certain reputation befalls one of pedigreed blood, of instability, of nonexistent patience; all things which Gamzee Makara previously defied. These things are buried, in which lies the contribution of circumstance: for which part of such had been fitted to base personality and which to soporific influence? For while certain events might delegate the latter, others help us pick out the former, making the current Gamzee of speculation a bit more clear.
Previous to the point in which Gamzee would be brought in, there is a certain association with his personality in regards to habits. Gamzee, when on the sopor, behaves in a manner attributed commonly to the stereotype stoner, becoming lost in thought, and known as perhaps not the brightest crayon in the box. But a certain, genuine personality shines through, a loyalty and sought approval from friends. Gamzee connects specifically well with certain people, such as his ‘best friend’ Karkat, but generally gets along with everyone, treating them with a low, casual tone. In addition he has a laid-back dismissal of any negative feedback he seems to receive. Karkat’s irritable rejection of extensions to friendship are met on Gamzee’s end with a clueless expression and persistence. Friends in this state come off as incredibly important to Gamzee. It’s due to this that we later see some contradictions, and begin the process of picking the Highblood apart.
From the point in which Gamzee would be brought in, things begin to fall apart in a manner previously unknown to the juggalo. At this point, he’s begun to ween off of his pies, which is half of the contribution. According to Gamzee’s own explanations, the pies merely ‘rusted his thinkpan’, showing a brightened awareness of his previous state, some vocabulary even showing a brighter intelligence in this state. It’s also, however, accompanied by a rage, instigated by Dave Strider’s provocation. Dave sends a video which insults Gamzee’s own religion in a way that seems to set off this whole domino effect. From here, we can begin to figure out which is base personality and which is - to use a ready word from the troll’s trolltag- ‘capricious’ outbursts.
In this state, Gamzee seems to have less care for his friend than he does for their blood. Whatever crisis of faith it is that he goes through, it blends dangerously with sharpened Highblood instinct, making him bloodthirsty, unpredictable, and unstable. But it still yet appears that the old Gamzee hasn’t disappeared entirely. Though the event would not have yet happened in the inital timeline introduction, Gamzee is at least somewhat settled by the step-in of moirail duties from Karkat. After this, Gamzee appears to simmer, still speaking in the same pitched tones and words, but doing so in a manner more contributed to the previously laid-back personality known to our Gamzee of before.
Therefore, we bring up the original question - to which part do we categorize influence, and to which instinct? Gamzee is, by nature, laid-back and somewhat unconcerned by other’s situations. But there is an animal-like awareness deep down of his status and power, and what he may deserve. He is no longer the uncaring, dulled troll, but rather a carefully balanced Highblood, able to be upset at what may trigger that base instinct.
Abilities & Weaknesses:
-Abilities:
Joker Kind: Gamzee’s strife specibus allows him to harness a use over an infinite amount of weapons. He even possible can keep a mastery of them, assuming in his skilled use with weapons used in this manner.
Highblood Tendencies: Being in full capacity of his Highblood inheritance grants Gamzee an increased strength as well as general heightened awareness from his usual perception when high.
Sylladex: Gamzee uses the miracle sylladex. It’s not particulalry functional, but it does allow him to store multiple items of varying size.
Weaknesses:
Rage: Sobered, Gamzee is prone to fits of rage. For the most part it fuels his strength, but also causes for some irrationality, dependence upon spike emotions.
Sopor Slime/Faygo: Though the troll himself has forsaken the substances, he is aware how they affect him. He may not willingly ingest it anymore, but if it is fed to him, it dulls his senses and abilities.
Other Information: The age up will initially be the least of Gamzee’s concern, though he’ll certain take notice of probably an increased strength, and the signs of adulthood in his eyes coloration, as well as a severe heigh increase. If calmed from his frenzy, he’ll take more notice at least to the oddity of it. It might also affect his psyche of duties to fulfill, as a Highblood, and a descendant of the Subjugglators. His rages might become only worse, having a younger troll's lack of control with an adult's keen sensitivity.
? SAMPLES.
Network Sample: [The town is prowled, possibly for hours. Eyes aren’t entirely visible behind red-tinted shades, pointed edges, but nonetheless, the stare is chilling. Grey skin is visible underneath smears of paint and a deep browned liquid, dripping down their chin, coating their mouth. The new occupant seems to simply be surveying, moving forward, kicking at the ground his feet. He’s... certainly a scene.
There’s a grey-skinned head with a puckered expression long frozen by rigor mortis, blood coated not only upon the point of severance at it’s neck, but also it’s mouth, a deep rusted orange, almost brown, the same as upon the other’s lips and hands. The new occupant holds it by a horn, long and bull-like. He finally sets it down at a slight distance, before sitting, pitching almost drunkenly. He finally pulls out the laptop to fiddle with it for a bit, looking it over, lowering the glasses to stare at it in an almost paranoid manner. Turning on the feed, he analyzes it some more before looking it dead-on, then speaking.]
... we got anyone hearin’ me out there?
WHY DON’T YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ SPEAK UP?
[His voice raises suddenly, and he lets out a harsh, almost cruel laugh, that comes out in a low honking sound.]
Lost my new friend in this whole, miraculous surprise walk. YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ DIG? Just got my old buddy, who ain’t too present anymore...
[The frown twitches, brows lowering into some more forlorn expression, but re-sharpens again as he continues, pitch continuing to fall and rise.]
NOW WHICH OF YOU BLASPHEMING MOTHERFUCKERS... is gonna speak up first with some answers? MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE, BROTHERS.
Log Sample: Being captivated by something as simple as scenery was a habit he now considered... strange, and ridiculous. Self-hateful, imagining himself rusting away, wasting himself. He wants to reach out and throttle the next thing that passes, and though his first inclination is to imagine himself, his second is to ponder what color their face turns, what color seeps through when teeth sink into skin so much softer and delicate than what he’s used to. That - that is a thing to pay attention to. That's worth some appreciation.
He knows, though. It’s not a surprise anymore, as he watches the reddish hue darkening to the drying collage on a building side, painted on awhile ago, his project, his expression, his faith and his beliefs, beginning to grow old and boring where they lay. Like strawberry jam, like a running joke, dripping down his hands and lips. He growls, a noise that scares those that already avoid him, an animal burst from it's cage, an ugly thing that drags it's trophies here and there, a monster, he's the monster in the dark that everyone fears.
He's the thing they run from, because they don't know the beauties of the miracles he holds.
They've been lied to (MOTHERFUCKING LIED TO) by whatever blasphemy has been spread amongst these humans, the same as that motherfucker gave him, slander, LIES AND SLANDER, weren't his brothers, weren't his friends, and he was being too kind in showing them this, enlightening them as he did. He takes what's fresh upon his hands, slathering it heavier, painting, fingerpainting, painting what his heart tells him to, what the voices that whisper to it say, because they know what's right, those tiny tiny voices that know what he's supposed to do to his special special friends, what he needs to share with them, what he needs to do to make them realize. They would see (ALL MOTHERFUCKING SEE), they would see the beautiful pictures they made, the art that spilled from their veins.
He's a monster, but he knows things they don't. He's better than they are, predatory, eyes beginning to tint, to age, a body growing into it's purpose, one he doesn't want to waste. He's a monster, but he was born to be, and he hates that it was such a long time coming, that he never realized, that he wasted himself, wasted his beliefs (answer me motherfucker LOOK INTO MY MOTHERFUCKING EYES see your shame KILL WHAT YOU WERE).
... he ceases his art, stares. Becomes lost in what he sees. He leans his face into it, breathing it in, staring into whatever abyss it is that draws him in.
... he could get used to this home.
Name: J-chan
Age: 21
Timezone: Central Pacific
Methods of contact: Plurk: Jashinchan AIM: JChanoftheGods
Characters you currently play: Bro Strider and England/Arthur Kirkland
I am apping my character from another game: No
CHARACTER INFO.
? BASIC
Character Name: Gamzee Makara
Character Age: 18
Aging Up?: Yes
Canon & Canon Point: Homestuck - Post Flipout, after some sloppy post-mortem makouts and rap-offs.
? DEPTH.
History: http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Gamzee_Makara
Personality: The instincts of a troll are a delicate thing, operating upon both birthright and circumstance. A certain reputation befalls one of pedigreed blood, of instability, of nonexistent patience; all things which Gamzee Makara previously defied. These things are buried, in which lies the contribution of circumstance: for which part of such had been fitted to base personality and which to soporific influence? For while certain events might delegate the latter, others help us pick out the former, making the current Gamzee of speculation a bit more clear.
Previous to the point in which Gamzee would be brought in, there is a certain association with his personality in regards to habits. Gamzee, when on the sopor, behaves in a manner attributed commonly to the stereotype stoner, becoming lost in thought, and known as perhaps not the brightest crayon in the box. But a certain, genuine personality shines through, a loyalty and sought approval from friends. Gamzee connects specifically well with certain people, such as his ‘best friend’ Karkat, but generally gets along with everyone, treating them with a low, casual tone. In addition he has a laid-back dismissal of any negative feedback he seems to receive. Karkat’s irritable rejection of extensions to friendship are met on Gamzee’s end with a clueless expression and persistence. Friends in this state come off as incredibly important to Gamzee. It’s due to this that we later see some contradictions, and begin the process of picking the Highblood apart.
From the point in which Gamzee would be brought in, things begin to fall apart in a manner previously unknown to the juggalo. At this point, he’s begun to ween off of his pies, which is half of the contribution. According to Gamzee’s own explanations, the pies merely ‘rusted his thinkpan’, showing a brightened awareness of his previous state, some vocabulary even showing a brighter intelligence in this state. It’s also, however, accompanied by a rage, instigated by Dave Strider’s provocation. Dave sends a video which insults Gamzee’s own religion in a way that seems to set off this whole domino effect. From here, we can begin to figure out which is base personality and which is - to use a ready word from the troll’s trolltag- ‘capricious’ outbursts.
In this state, Gamzee seems to have less care for his friend than he does for their blood. Whatever crisis of faith it is that he goes through, it blends dangerously with sharpened Highblood instinct, making him bloodthirsty, unpredictable, and unstable. But it still yet appears that the old Gamzee hasn’t disappeared entirely. Though the event would not have yet happened in the inital timeline introduction, Gamzee is at least somewhat settled by the step-in of moirail duties from Karkat. After this, Gamzee appears to simmer, still speaking in the same pitched tones and words, but doing so in a manner more contributed to the previously laid-back personality known to our Gamzee of before.
Therefore, we bring up the original question - to which part do we categorize influence, and to which instinct? Gamzee is, by nature, laid-back and somewhat unconcerned by other’s situations. But there is an animal-like awareness deep down of his status and power, and what he may deserve. He is no longer the uncaring, dulled troll, but rather a carefully balanced Highblood, able to be upset at what may trigger that base instinct.
Abilities & Weaknesses:
-Abilities:
Joker Kind: Gamzee’s strife specibus allows him to harness a use over an infinite amount of weapons. He even possible can keep a mastery of them, assuming in his skilled use with weapons used in this manner.
Highblood Tendencies: Being in full capacity of his Highblood inheritance grants Gamzee an increased strength as well as general heightened awareness from his usual perception when high.
Sylladex: Gamzee uses the miracle sylladex. It’s not particulalry functional, but it does allow him to store multiple items of varying size.
Weaknesses:
Rage: Sobered, Gamzee is prone to fits of rage. For the most part it fuels his strength, but also causes for some irrationality, dependence upon spike emotions.
Sopor Slime/Faygo: Though the troll himself has forsaken the substances, he is aware how they affect him. He may not willingly ingest it anymore, but if it is fed to him, it dulls his senses and abilities.
Other Information: The age up will initially be the least of Gamzee’s concern, though he’ll certain take notice of probably an increased strength, and the signs of adulthood in his eyes coloration, as well as a severe heigh increase. If calmed from his frenzy, he’ll take more notice at least to the oddity of it. It might also affect his psyche of duties to fulfill, as a Highblood, and a descendant of the Subjugglators. His rages might become only worse, having a younger troll's lack of control with an adult's keen sensitivity.
? SAMPLES.
Network Sample: [The town is prowled, possibly for hours. Eyes aren’t entirely visible behind red-tinted shades, pointed edges, but nonetheless, the stare is chilling. Grey skin is visible underneath smears of paint and a deep browned liquid, dripping down their chin, coating their mouth. The new occupant seems to simply be surveying, moving forward, kicking at the ground his feet. He’s... certainly a scene.
There’s a grey-skinned head with a puckered expression long frozen by rigor mortis, blood coated not only upon the point of severance at it’s neck, but also it’s mouth, a deep rusted orange, almost brown, the same as upon the other’s lips and hands. The new occupant holds it by a horn, long and bull-like. He finally sets it down at a slight distance, before sitting, pitching almost drunkenly. He finally pulls out the laptop to fiddle with it for a bit, looking it over, lowering the glasses to stare at it in an almost paranoid manner. Turning on the feed, he analyzes it some more before looking it dead-on, then speaking.]
... we got anyone hearin’ me out there?
WHY DON’T YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ SPEAK UP?
[His voice raises suddenly, and he lets out a harsh, almost cruel laugh, that comes out in a low honking sound.]
Lost my new friend in this whole, miraculous surprise walk. YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ DIG? Just got my old buddy, who ain’t too present anymore...
[The frown twitches, brows lowering into some more forlorn expression, but re-sharpens again as he continues, pitch continuing to fall and rise.]
NOW WHICH OF YOU BLASPHEMING MOTHERFUCKERS... is gonna speak up first with some answers? MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE, BROTHERS.
Log Sample: Being captivated by something as simple as scenery was a habit he now considered... strange, and ridiculous. Self-hateful, imagining himself rusting away, wasting himself. He wants to reach out and throttle the next thing that passes, and though his first inclination is to imagine himself, his second is to ponder what color their face turns, what color seeps through when teeth sink into skin so much softer and delicate than what he’s used to. That - that is a thing to pay attention to. That's worth some appreciation.
He knows, though. It’s not a surprise anymore, as he watches the reddish hue darkening to the drying collage on a building side, painted on awhile ago, his project, his expression, his faith and his beliefs, beginning to grow old and boring where they lay. Like strawberry jam, like a running joke, dripping down his hands and lips. He growls, a noise that scares those that already avoid him, an animal burst from it's cage, an ugly thing that drags it's trophies here and there, a monster, he's the monster in the dark that everyone fears.
He's the thing they run from, because they don't know the beauties of the miracles he holds.
They've been lied to (MOTHERFUCKING LIED TO) by whatever blasphemy has been spread amongst these humans, the same as that motherfucker gave him, slander, LIES AND SLANDER, weren't his brothers, weren't his friends, and he was being too kind in showing them this, enlightening them as he did. He takes what's fresh upon his hands, slathering it heavier, painting, fingerpainting, painting what his heart tells him to, what the voices that whisper to it say, because they know what's right, those tiny tiny voices that know what he's supposed to do to his special special friends, what he needs to share with them, what he needs to do to make them realize. They would see (ALL MOTHERFUCKING SEE), they would see the beautiful pictures they made, the art that spilled from their veins.
He's a monster, but he knows things they don't. He's better than they are, predatory, eyes beginning to tint, to age, a body growing into it's purpose, one he doesn't want to waste. He's a monster, but he was born to be, and he hates that it was such a long time coming, that he never realized, that he wasted himself, wasted his beliefs (answer me motherfucker LOOK INTO MY MOTHERFUCKING EYES see your shame KILL WHAT YOU WERE).
... he ceases his art, stares. Becomes lost in what he sees. He leans his face into it, breathing it in, staring into whatever abyss it is that draws him in.
... he could get used to this home.
