Light Field (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
visiblespectrum) wrote2014-12-30 10:13 pm
visiblespectrum) wrote2014-12-30 10:13 pm
[box] Application
Player Information
Player name: Nemo
Contact: turretfodder @ AIM,![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
pwnyo, PM this journal.
Are you over 18: Y
Characters in The Box Already:
Character Information
Character Name: Light Field (aliased "Snake" for the entirety of the game and subsequently this application)
Canon: Zero Escape: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors
Canon Point: True Timeline. After being knocked out and locked in a coffin after splitting up.
History: Here, with more information on the first Nonary Game he participated in.
Personality:
The first thing to note about Snake is that he is smart. Ridiculously, almost comically smart, in terms of appearance as well as intelligence. Both, in a sense, permeate his character from his stately posture to the clipped eloquence and content of his speech. Upon their first encounter, the protagonist likens him to a prince, and as fanciful as the assumption might be, it isn't too far off from the truth. Well-educated, refined, and desperate to rescue and protect the woman he loves (in this case, his sister).
Firstly, he's more of a fountain of knowledge than a fire hose; his intelligence is apparent enough in his manner, but it takes sticking one's hand in front of a jet to get truly wet. And though it might be cold, it's not as if the water is out to spite you, it's simply wet by nature. Similarly, Snake conveys his general superiority as more of a fact when it becomes relevant than a bragging point, though despite—or more likely because of—this fact, he tends to come off as more than a little arrogant. Particularly in regards to his physical capabilities in relation to his blindness, the point he's often quickest to drive home to avoid coddling or the assumption that he's of little use. Not that he's too stubborn to ask for clarification or assistance, he simply knows what he can and cannot do the best of anyone and prefers to be the judge of such himself.
Coupled with this great mental repository of knowledge is the ability to approach new information from a logical and rational point of view. He's quick to produce hypotheses and narrow possibilities with an almost Holmesian efficiency. Rarely, if ever, does he allow emotion or preconceived notions to sway his deductions, and aside from that, he has a certain level of insight he attributes to his blindness. The ability to pick up on things one might miss when focused on visual cues.
With a character of this particular ilk, one might expect him to be a socially stunted individual, but the opposite couldn't be more true. Apart from the occasional bout of arrogance or bluntness, Snake makes for a pleasant conversational partner. Another break from the character archetype he seems to fill in the story is his capacity for humor. Cooperating in a group of occasionally stupidly off-topic people, he might seem the most likely killjoy candidate, and often he is, but he isn't above the occasional quip or silliness. Like your unintentionally funny dad, he tends to be most clever offhandedly and fall flat on his face when actually attempting a joke. All in all, he's capable of being plenty amicable yet straightforward with strangers within only hours of meeting them.
He largely takes interactions at an even keel regardless of content, even under stressful circumstances, making him an excellent mediator coupled with his rationality. Conversely, this quality can have an unsettling cracked-Stepford effect when negative emotions such as anger or disapproval are applied, the dissonance between his calm demeanor and downward shift in tone described at one point as 'terrifying'. These instances, however, are often exaggerated, simply a product of an overarching placid disposition. It's when such a stout and steadfast calm finally does crack that there is ever a true reason to worry.
Because when the shell does crack, it doesn't so much crumble as it does explode, sending rational thought, gentle words, and self-preservation flying through the glass roof, leaving nothing but a downpour of razor shards of guilt and fury. The one instance shown capable of tearing him down to this level is the murder of his sister he'd sworn to protect, so the bar of tolerance is set relatively high, but there is definitely a breaking point to his seemingly unshakable composure.
All in all, a surprisingly rounded individual considering his level of genius. A kind, caring, occasionally insufferably frank and obstinate man, but a remarkably put together one considering his tribulations past and present.
Items on your character at canon point: A black and red cultist-like cowl, and a pink watch-like device with a 2 on its face.
Abilities:
Being blind for approximately half of his life has lent Snake a great deal of strength in his other senses, particularly in his hearing. Even if they do not speak, he is able to identify someone he is familiar with through their footsteps, breathing patterns, and the sound of their clothing. With the way sound echoes in a space, he can also locate objects and avoid obstacles with a remarkable success rate. Though it isn't shown much in practice, he claims he could defeat an average person in hand-to-hand combat, and while it's a bold claim, his arrogance is well-founded in every other area it surfaces. He is, at least, able to take down a man much larger than him and pin him for several minutes all the while grievously wounded, so there is physical strength there.
He is also incredibly well-versed in a wide variety of subjects, including mathematics, physics theoretical and otherwise, natural history, and religion.
As for other abilities of the mind, Snake is an individual with a heightened ability to access the morphogenetic field: a theoretical field of energy through which information is passed between human beings, a possible explanation for instances of hive-mind intelligence in the absence of physical contact across the globe. When a large number of people come across information, it may be possible for Snake to pick up on said information without speaking to any of them. But the person who resonates the strongest with his ability is his sister, Clover.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
First and foremost, Snake is a calm, level-headed individual, and maintains his ability to think and act rationally even in times of extreme danger or stress to himself or his friends. He's also shown to exhibit a considerable amount of fearlessness, not hesitating in the slightest to enter a gore-splattered hallway or to walk along a tall, precariously narrow ledge. He attributes it to courage born of darkness, or being more likely to get psyched out if you are able to see your predicament.
As competent as he is, he is still completely incapable of sight. As such, he is unable to read or sense totally silent visual cues, intentions, or threats. His left arm is prosthetic, and though it possesses a range of motion including the folding of his arms, it can do little else.
While his aforementioned grace under pressure is perhaps the most steadfast of his party, it also shatters the most spectacularly when it finally does cave. When someone he cares for deeply, mainly—if not solely—his sister, is harmed or killed, he's liable to fly off the handle and into an inconsolable rage, and attempt to destroy the source of harm even if it will cost him his life.
Samples
Network/Action Spam Sample: A couple TDM threads for you.
Prose Log Sample:
Needless to say, waking with one's nose and mouth inundated with water is one solution to sobering up out of a haze. A snort, a stutter, a spew of startled bubbles attempting to clear the airways fan across the space before him, tingling into nothingness against a stretch of wall inches from his face. It prompts a hand to lift, fight the fabric swirling around him in the cramped and flooded space, shimmy up and pound on the lid of his prison. He'd been knocked unconscious, back upon the ship. Isolated, gassed, and apparently locked away and left to die in a locker of some sort. Perhaps he'd been out so long, 6AM had come and gone, and the ship had gone far too under to be worth attempting escape.
That doesn't mean he doesn't make a herculean effort. Teeth clenched against the water, he shifts his legs, bends them in an attempt to lever against the thin metal door, feeling furiously for the inside of a latch mechanism. Eventually some combination of brute force and fidgeting has the locker popping open and out spills the pale, spindly young man in a plume of black fabric, clawing fervently toward the surface only to breach it with a great deal of surprise a few feet later. Gasping and spluttering, Snake feels out across the water, feet brushing debris he can only vaguely assume is furniture of some sort. He pushes off, strikes out until his fingers brush something large and solid, flat enough to provide some form of support.
Heaving himself up and over the edge with a thick, sopping, entirely unfamiliar cloak around his shoulders proves a touch treacherous, but adrenaline pulls through, sprawling him flat along the side of what he could only assume to be a dresser. What's important is that it's sure and dry, something to catch his breath on and finally take a moment to think.
First and foremost, the water he's still spitting and wiping out of his face hasn't the fierce sting of salt beneath his lids or on his tongue. Already a massive discrepancy for an allegedly sinking ocean liner. Secondly, though no less worthy of note now that he's bitten down his shuddering gasps, is the utter silence. No sound of water roaring in through the belly of the ship, no creaking, no turbulance—it's as if they've already settled at the bottom of the freshwater sea. And should that be the case, this miracle of an air pocket would undoubtedly become his grave. All of their graves.
"Clover!" he finally barks, the name sharp against his own ears in the confined space as he leans back against the nearby wall, drilling the side of his fist into that, too. "Clover! Seven! Junpei!" He could list through them all—all the people trapped in this nightmare of an experiment—for all the good it would do, but he's met with little more than the gentle lapping of water against a sodden mahogany chest of drawers and a pair of ashen ankles.
Still. Hopeless as it seems, it wouldn't do well to simply sit there and wait for the end. Gathering himself, Snake shoves the draping sleeves of whatever he's wearing to his elbows and—pauses a moment. Lets his hand slide back to the wrist of his left; the smooth, prosthetic, empty wrist.
The bracelet is gone.
A small twinge of what could only be disbelief flutters somewhere within him, though it must have been lost in the water, it was thoroughly, utterly gone. According to the game's rules, only two conditions would allow the cuff to release under any circumstances whatsoever.
One: You escape from this ship.
Two: Your heart rate reaches zero.
And with one steadfast little lump of muscle still drumming away beneath his ribs, that could only mean one thing. Somehow, he is simply not in Kansas anymore.
Player name: Nemo
Contact: turretfodder @ AIM,
Are you over 18: Y
Character Information
Character Name: Light Field (aliased "Snake" for the entirety of the game and subsequently this application)
Canon: Zero Escape: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors
Canon Point: True Timeline. After being knocked out and locked in a coffin after splitting up.
History: Here, with more information on the first Nonary Game he participated in.
Personality:
The first thing to note about Snake is that he is smart. Ridiculously, almost comically smart, in terms of appearance as well as intelligence. Both, in a sense, permeate his character from his stately posture to the clipped eloquence and content of his speech. Upon their first encounter, the protagonist likens him to a prince, and as fanciful as the assumption might be, it isn't too far off from the truth. Well-educated, refined, and desperate to rescue and protect the woman he loves (in this case, his sister).
Firstly, he's more of a fountain of knowledge than a fire hose; his intelligence is apparent enough in his manner, but it takes sticking one's hand in front of a jet to get truly wet. And though it might be cold, it's not as if the water is out to spite you, it's simply wet by nature. Similarly, Snake conveys his general superiority as more of a fact when it becomes relevant than a bragging point, though despite—or more likely because of—this fact, he tends to come off as more than a little arrogant. Particularly in regards to his physical capabilities in relation to his blindness, the point he's often quickest to drive home to avoid coddling or the assumption that he's of little use. Not that he's too stubborn to ask for clarification or assistance, he simply knows what he can and cannot do the best of anyone and prefers to be the judge of such himself.
Coupled with this great mental repository of knowledge is the ability to approach new information from a logical and rational point of view. He's quick to produce hypotheses and narrow possibilities with an almost Holmesian efficiency. Rarely, if ever, does he allow emotion or preconceived notions to sway his deductions, and aside from that, he has a certain level of insight he attributes to his blindness. The ability to pick up on things one might miss when focused on visual cues.
With a character of this particular ilk, one might expect him to be a socially stunted individual, but the opposite couldn't be more true. Apart from the occasional bout of arrogance or bluntness, Snake makes for a pleasant conversational partner. Another break from the character archetype he seems to fill in the story is his capacity for humor. Cooperating in a group of occasionally stupidly off-topic people, he might seem the most likely killjoy candidate, and often he is, but he isn't above the occasional quip or silliness. Like your unintentionally funny dad, he tends to be most clever offhandedly and fall flat on his face when actually attempting a joke. All in all, he's capable of being plenty amicable yet straightforward with strangers within only hours of meeting them.
He largely takes interactions at an even keel regardless of content, even under stressful circumstances, making him an excellent mediator coupled with his rationality. Conversely, this quality can have an unsettling cracked-Stepford effect when negative emotions such as anger or disapproval are applied, the dissonance between his calm demeanor and downward shift in tone described at one point as 'terrifying'. These instances, however, are often exaggerated, simply a product of an overarching placid disposition. It's when such a stout and steadfast calm finally does crack that there is ever a true reason to worry.
Because when the shell does crack, it doesn't so much crumble as it does explode, sending rational thought, gentle words, and self-preservation flying through the glass roof, leaving nothing but a downpour of razor shards of guilt and fury. The one instance shown capable of tearing him down to this level is the murder of his sister he'd sworn to protect, so the bar of tolerance is set relatively high, but there is definitely a breaking point to his seemingly unshakable composure.
All in all, a surprisingly rounded individual considering his level of genius. A kind, caring, occasionally insufferably frank and obstinate man, but a remarkably put together one considering his tribulations past and present.
Items on your character at canon point: A black and red cultist-like cowl, and a pink watch-like device with a 2 on its face.
Abilities:
Being blind for approximately half of his life has lent Snake a great deal of strength in his other senses, particularly in his hearing. Even if they do not speak, he is able to identify someone he is familiar with through their footsteps, breathing patterns, and the sound of their clothing. With the way sound echoes in a space, he can also locate objects and avoid obstacles with a remarkable success rate. Though it isn't shown much in practice, he claims he could defeat an average person in hand-to-hand combat, and while it's a bold claim, his arrogance is well-founded in every other area it surfaces. He is, at least, able to take down a man much larger than him and pin him for several minutes all the while grievously wounded, so there is physical strength there.
He is also incredibly well-versed in a wide variety of subjects, including mathematics, physics theoretical and otherwise, natural history, and religion.
As for other abilities of the mind, Snake is an individual with a heightened ability to access the morphogenetic field: a theoretical field of energy through which information is passed between human beings, a possible explanation for instances of hive-mind intelligence in the absence of physical contact across the globe. When a large number of people come across information, it may be possible for Snake to pick up on said information without speaking to any of them. But the person who resonates the strongest with his ability is his sister, Clover.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
First and foremost, Snake is a calm, level-headed individual, and maintains his ability to think and act rationally even in times of extreme danger or stress to himself or his friends. He's also shown to exhibit a considerable amount of fearlessness, not hesitating in the slightest to enter a gore-splattered hallway or to walk along a tall, precariously narrow ledge. He attributes it to courage born of darkness, or being more likely to get psyched out if you are able to see your predicament.
As competent as he is, he is still completely incapable of sight. As such, he is unable to read or sense totally silent visual cues, intentions, or threats. His left arm is prosthetic, and though it possesses a range of motion including the folding of his arms, it can do little else.
While his aforementioned grace under pressure is perhaps the most steadfast of his party, it also shatters the most spectacularly when it finally does cave. When someone he cares for deeply, mainly—if not solely—his sister, is harmed or killed, he's liable to fly off the handle and into an inconsolable rage, and attempt to destroy the source of harm even if it will cost him his life.
Samples
Network/Action Spam Sample: A couple TDM threads for you.
Prose Log Sample:
Needless to say, waking with one's nose and mouth inundated with water is one solution to sobering up out of a haze. A snort, a stutter, a spew of startled bubbles attempting to clear the airways fan across the space before him, tingling into nothingness against a stretch of wall inches from his face. It prompts a hand to lift, fight the fabric swirling around him in the cramped and flooded space, shimmy up and pound on the lid of his prison. He'd been knocked unconscious, back upon the ship. Isolated, gassed, and apparently locked away and left to die in a locker of some sort. Perhaps he'd been out so long, 6AM had come and gone, and the ship had gone far too under to be worth attempting escape.
That doesn't mean he doesn't make a herculean effort. Teeth clenched against the water, he shifts his legs, bends them in an attempt to lever against the thin metal door, feeling furiously for the inside of a latch mechanism. Eventually some combination of brute force and fidgeting has the locker popping open and out spills the pale, spindly young man in a plume of black fabric, clawing fervently toward the surface only to breach it with a great deal of surprise a few feet later. Gasping and spluttering, Snake feels out across the water, feet brushing debris he can only vaguely assume is furniture of some sort. He pushes off, strikes out until his fingers brush something large and solid, flat enough to provide some form of support.
Heaving himself up and over the edge with a thick, sopping, entirely unfamiliar cloak around his shoulders proves a touch treacherous, but adrenaline pulls through, sprawling him flat along the side of what he could only assume to be a dresser. What's important is that it's sure and dry, something to catch his breath on and finally take a moment to think.
First and foremost, the water he's still spitting and wiping out of his face hasn't the fierce sting of salt beneath his lids or on his tongue. Already a massive discrepancy for an allegedly sinking ocean liner. Secondly, though no less worthy of note now that he's bitten down his shuddering gasps, is the utter silence. No sound of water roaring in through the belly of the ship, no creaking, no turbulance—it's as if they've already settled at the bottom of the freshwater sea. And should that be the case, this miracle of an air pocket would undoubtedly become his grave. All of their graves.
"Clover!" he finally barks, the name sharp against his own ears in the confined space as he leans back against the nearby wall, drilling the side of his fist into that, too. "Clover! Seven! Junpei!" He could list through them all—all the people trapped in this nightmare of an experiment—for all the good it would do, but he's met with little more than the gentle lapping of water against a sodden mahogany chest of drawers and a pair of ashen ankles.
Still. Hopeless as it seems, it wouldn't do well to simply sit there and wait for the end. Gathering himself, Snake shoves the draping sleeves of whatever he's wearing to his elbows and—pauses a moment. Lets his hand slide back to the wrist of his left; the smooth, prosthetic, empty wrist.
The bracelet is gone.
A small twinge of what could only be disbelief flutters somewhere within him, though it must have been lost in the water, it was thoroughly, utterly gone. According to the game's rules, only two conditions would allow the cuff to release under any circumstances whatsoever.
One: You escape from this ship.
Two: Your heart rate reaches zero.
And with one steadfast little lump of muscle still drumming away beneath his ribs, that could only mean one thing. Somehow, he is simply not in Kansas anymore.