Arthro
Arthropod Enthusiast
The characters here may or may not be used in actual rp, but may just be a sort of placeholder for future uses. Always a WIP.
Race: Machine(?)
Age: Unknown, but recent.
Gender: Male
Alias: UV
Personality: Cynical. Nothing matters, everything is ultimately pointless. General disliking towards everything with a noun. Very robust speech, not afraid to say anything. Unprovocative, never starts a fight on purpose. The only reason he's still here is he's programmed to fear death.
History: UV was created as a highly versatile machine. He has no clue what that purpose is, or why he was created, because his memory is made to be wiped every month, this is out of his control. Wherever he is, he was likely left behind without hope of getting back to his home due to this curse.
Abilities:
The Gift of (limited) Flight: UV can float through use of gravity manipulation, but cannot go very fast due to his weight. There's also the chance that he can fall from being hit too hard.
Versatility: He's got quite the variety of tools hanging from his body, ranging from high-tech torch welders to simple screwdrivers.s.
Endurance: UV is made to be anywhere - whether that be the vacuum of space, a radiation-scorched ground zero, or a pitch black seabed, UV is able to work under any conditions. Hell, he could probably walk - er, float, off a bullet or two. Though, his miserable mood is just as constant as his efficiency.
Birthplace: Unknown
Likes: Silence, being left alone, having a job to do
Dislikes: Anything that speaks, being left alone, disorder
Weapon: His array tools could mutilate soft flesh with ease, but why would he ever do that?
Skills: Anything related to construction or demolition, maths, sciences, memorization
Weaknesses: Communication, willpower, combat, empathy
Fears: Being stranded, death, losing any of his antennas, heights
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Scent: Cold, lifeless metal. Or dirt. Or whatever filthy environment he's been in.
Subject No. 198
A terrible creature adapted for killing that has taken a friendlier approach to life.
Race: Unknown
Age: <900 Earth years
Gender: Male(?)
Alias: 198
Personality: The creature, unsurprisingly, has lost the universal hostility that he would have otherwise been known for, had he been properly delivered. At this point he's just as friendly as the average domesticated dog. Keep in mind, however, that just like a domesticated dog, he can still bite. Always seeing the brighter side of things, 198 seems like the kind of thing that would love to sit and listen to what you have to say for hours. Once he would get attached to somebody, he would do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
Yes, he can talk.
History: To his knowledge, 198 is a freak of unnatural nature that should not exist, for he is a being composed entirely void of organic matter - it's all just metal or stone. He assumes that he crawled out of the churning lava that was common throughout his uninhabited planet named Lebeyon. After wandering throughout the planet, curiously examining everything of interest he could find, 198 finally lies down to rest. Upon waking up, he looks around to see nothing, and feel nothing but terrible pains throughout his body, prominently his face. Raising his foreleg to feel a freaky amount asymmetrical, glowing cysts have grown on his face in place of eyes. He no longer could see in color, of discern shades, but could see things in great detail, regardless of distance or light. He no longer could breath, but didn't feel like he had to. To top everything off, he felt a great weight upon his back. After struggling to get a view of the end of it directly above his head, he found that he had grown a massive, fire spewing cannon. He had, to put simply, suffered from terrible mutations that had overtaken his body for the multiple centuries that he had been asleep. Now he continues to wander, in constant pain, but he feels he's strong enough to deal with that.
Abilities:
Tremendous strength: 198 is strong. Very strong. He can walk for days without any signs of fatigue.
Great vision: Though he might not be able to see colors or shades, he can sense shapes extremely well, no matter how distant they may be. This is unaltered by darkness, smoke, or whatever else might impede light-based vision.
Mineral appetite: Since 198 is not organic, he has no desire to eat organic things. Instead, he eats the only thing he's familiar with on Lebeyon: rocks. Using his powerful pincer-like mouthparts, he can grind rocks into smaller pebbles, which he then ingests. Rocks containing high amounts of metal are especially his favorite, along with lava being his all-time favorite thing to drink.
Flame cannon: His primary weapon. It is a massive cannon that launches molten rock and fire at deadly speeds. Although, this fire and rock is actually his insides. It hurts him very much, so does not enjoy using it unless a steady supply of food is nearby.
Thick skin: Although it appears to be armor, the red plates is in fact just his skin, or skeleton. Or both, maybe. He no longer has an endoskeleton, only his incredibly rigid skin to serve as one. This armor he lives in, plus his weight and pain makes 198 a clumsy creature.
More than fire retardant: 198 was born from the lava, and he can go back. He is not hurt by fire, and in fact high temperatures ease his pains. Cold areas, however, will kill him.
Birthplace: Lebeyon?
Likes: Rocks, wide open areas, walking, listening to people, heated places
Dislikes: Cold areas, enclosed spaces (He's got some pretty bad claustrophobia), hostilities, being alone
Weapon: His strength, or maybe his cannon if he feels he has to
Skills: Being patient, listening, intimidation
Weaknesses: The cold, being alone, his insecurities, his slow pace
Fears: Heights, fast things, the dark, small areas
Scent: Burning
Pyotr Abakumov
A man of science who yearns for nothing but his past.
Race: Human
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Alias: Pete
Personality: Pyotr is a man of mostly silence. He does not want to waste his breath, due to his being very limited. He tends to be very stoic, and down-to-Earth with his decisions. Does not take a joke well. A bit of a daydreamer, but tries not to show it. If he needs something done, you bet your ass it will be done before sunrise.
History: Pyotr was born into a wealthy Russian family. He had always been interested in the sciences, despite being encouraged to play rough with all the other boys. Eventually, this landed him a job in the Hazardous Materials and Environments Dept. of Gaz Incorporated. This was shortly before the fall of Earth due to nuclear fallout. Pyotr had always been suspecting this, and preemptively fled shortly before the strike across the world. He never really settled in the cold wastes of what remains of Asia, but acts more like a nomad, living off of the liquid oxygen reserves and IV supplements he can scavenge.
Pyotr cannot take off his suit. His immune system has degenerated after years of not being used.
Abilities:
Old man's Intuition: Pete is a scientist with experience in the dangerous field of hazardous materials. He understands many things, and has kept both his suit, and his jeep running for years in the wasteland.
Scientists Will: While Pyotr's immune system failed years ago, his suit handles everything and more than his body could ever hope to. He can survive in many places that no ill-equipped human could.
Birthplace: North Western Russia
Likes: Classical music, the night sky, discussing science and theories
Dislikes: The color red, his suit, nuclear weapons, guns
Weapon: 5mm burst rifle
Skills: Working under pressure, speaking, repairs, comforting others
Weaknesses: His old age, weakening body, depression
Fears: The dark, old age, humanity
Scent: Dust
Hartson Myra
The duo
View attachment 1619
Races: Humans
Ages: 31/52
Genders: Male
Alias: SOfc. Myra
Personalities: Melancholic, silent man afraid of confrontation. A decent leader due to his rank, yet has grown timid of other humans. An amazing mechanic and engineer, he takes silent pride in his accomplishments. There are two different minds in his body.
History: Myra had a simple, easy life. Essentially being a freeloader for most of it, sitting around all day reading various books his father would supply him with. Upon turning 18, he was conscripted into the military and was appointed as a combat engineer. Hartson was deployed after two years in rigorous training to an entirely different planet, and proved himself as one of the best technical experts in the battalion. He was valued for once in his life, but was fatally wounded shortly after.
Myra was partially healed by a field medic before they were killed in crossfire, so the Sub-Officer played dead as the enemies completed their assault on the facility. Afterwards, Myra, having two broken legs and one severed arm, dragged himself to a deactivated security bot, and connected it to a nearby desktop. He manually reprogrammed the machine with his one functioning limb, then used it to be dragged around the facility until he found a fallen soldier whose body was more or less intact, merely missing most of his left hand. Utilizing his neural computer, Myra established a remote link to the body of the soldier and found that he had been fried by an EMP wave. Remotely controlling it, he navigated to the mainframe of the entire facility, and transferred the entirety of his consciousness into the building, then to the the fallen soldier, his previous body entering a comatose state.
Myra stumbled over one of the last few remaining escape pods, ejecting out into the cold, empty space in his new body.
Abilities:
Smart guy - Myra used his wits to cheat death. His intellect is nothing to trifle with, and could quite possibly save the lives of those he considers friends.
Segmentation - His body now being made of a durable alloy, Myra is capable of superhuman feats that improve his strength, endurance, mobility, and vision.
Bug-eyed - Speaking of improved vision, each one of those glowing orbs on his head are actually cameras that, when the feeds are combined into one panoramic view, allows Myra to see in all directions. This took him some time to get used to.
The gift of flight? - All over Myra's body, there are strategically placed pulse-thrusters that can be activated once every 15 seconds without risk of overheating. They are essentially controlled explosions used to instantly give the user velocity, however, due to the injured state of his body, Myra is reluctant to use them until he is in tip-top shape.
Specialized armament - Myra's right arm acts as a tesla coil.
Birthplace: Hydra
Likes: Reading, learning, loud noises
Dislikes: Silence, space, combat
Weapon: Myra refuses to use any weapon other than himself.
Skills: Fixing things, improvisation
Weaknesses: He is very bad at fighting, and his brain is never still.
Fears: The other body inside him.
Scent: Dried blood, elecricity
UVUB-1
A machine on a mission undisclosed to all, even itself.
A machine on a mission undisclosed to all, even itself.
Age: Unknown, but recent.
Gender: Male
Alias: UV
Personality: Cynical. Nothing matters, everything is ultimately pointless. General disliking towards everything with a noun. Very robust speech, not afraid to say anything. Unprovocative, never starts a fight on purpose. The only reason he's still here is he's programmed to fear death.
History: UV was created as a highly versatile machine. He has no clue what that purpose is, or why he was created, because his memory is made to be wiped every month, this is out of his control. Wherever he is, he was likely left behind without hope of getting back to his home due to this curse.
Abilities:
The Gift of (limited) Flight: UV can float through use of gravity manipulation, but cannot go very fast due to his weight. There's also the chance that he can fall from being hit too hard.
Versatility: He's got quite the variety of tools hanging from his body, ranging from high-tech torch welders to simple screwdrivers.s.
Endurance: UV is made to be anywhere - whether that be the vacuum of space, a radiation-scorched ground zero, or a pitch black seabed, UV is able to work under any conditions. Hell, he could probably walk - er, float, off a bullet or two. Though, his miserable mood is just as constant as his efficiency.
Birthplace: Unknown
Likes: Silence, being left alone, having a job to do
Dislikes: Anything that speaks, being left alone, disorder
Weapon: His array tools could mutilate soft flesh with ease, but why would he ever do that?
Skills: Anything related to construction or demolition, maths, sciences, memorization
Weaknesses: Communication, willpower, combat, empathy
Fears: Being stranded, death, losing any of his antennas, heights
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Scent: Cold, lifeless metal. Or dirt. Or whatever filthy environment he's been in.
Subject No. 198
A terrible creature adapted for killing that has taken a friendlier approach to life.
Age: <900 Earth years
Gender: Male(?)
Alias: 198
Personality: The creature, unsurprisingly, has lost the universal hostility that he would have otherwise been known for, had he been properly delivered. At this point he's just as friendly as the average domesticated dog. Keep in mind, however, that just like a domesticated dog, he can still bite. Always seeing the brighter side of things, 198 seems like the kind of thing that would love to sit and listen to what you have to say for hours. Once he would get attached to somebody, he would do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
Yes, he can talk.
History: To his knowledge, 198 is a freak of unnatural nature that should not exist, for he is a being composed entirely void of organic matter - it's all just metal or stone. He assumes that he crawled out of the churning lava that was common throughout his uninhabited planet named Lebeyon. After wandering throughout the planet, curiously examining everything of interest he could find, 198 finally lies down to rest. Upon waking up, he looks around to see nothing, and feel nothing but terrible pains throughout his body, prominently his face. Raising his foreleg to feel a freaky amount asymmetrical, glowing cysts have grown on his face in place of eyes. He no longer could see in color, of discern shades, but could see things in great detail, regardless of distance or light. He no longer could breath, but didn't feel like he had to. To top everything off, he felt a great weight upon his back. After struggling to get a view of the end of it directly above his head, he found that he had grown a massive, fire spewing cannon. He had, to put simply, suffered from terrible mutations that had overtaken his body for the multiple centuries that he had been asleep. Now he continues to wander, in constant pain, but he feels he's strong enough to deal with that.
Abilities:
Tremendous strength: 198 is strong. Very strong. He can walk for days without any signs of fatigue.
Great vision: Though he might not be able to see colors or shades, he can sense shapes extremely well, no matter how distant they may be. This is unaltered by darkness, smoke, or whatever else might impede light-based vision.
Mineral appetite: Since 198 is not organic, he has no desire to eat organic things. Instead, he eats the only thing he's familiar with on Lebeyon: rocks. Using his powerful pincer-like mouthparts, he can grind rocks into smaller pebbles, which he then ingests. Rocks containing high amounts of metal are especially his favorite, along with lava being his all-time favorite thing to drink.
Flame cannon: His primary weapon. It is a massive cannon that launches molten rock and fire at deadly speeds. Although, this fire and rock is actually his insides. It hurts him very much, so does not enjoy using it unless a steady supply of food is nearby.
Thick skin: Although it appears to be armor, the red plates is in fact just his skin, or skeleton. Or both, maybe. He no longer has an endoskeleton, only his incredibly rigid skin to serve as one. This armor he lives in, plus his weight and pain makes 198 a clumsy creature.
More than fire retardant: 198 was born from the lava, and he can go back. He is not hurt by fire, and in fact high temperatures ease his pains. Cold areas, however, will kill him.
Birthplace: Lebeyon?
Likes: Rocks, wide open areas, walking, listening to people, heated places
Dislikes: Cold areas, enclosed spaces (He's got some pretty bad claustrophobia), hostilities, being alone
Weapon: His strength, or maybe his cannon if he feels he has to
Skills: Being patient, listening, intimidation
Weaknesses: The cold, being alone, his insecurities, his slow pace
Fears: Heights, fast things, the dark, small areas
Scent: Burning
Pyotr Abakumov
A man of science who yearns for nothing but his past.
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Alias: Pete
Personality: Pyotr is a man of mostly silence. He does not want to waste his breath, due to his being very limited. He tends to be very stoic, and down-to-Earth with his decisions. Does not take a joke well. A bit of a daydreamer, but tries not to show it. If he needs something done, you bet your ass it will be done before sunrise.
History: Pyotr was born into a wealthy Russian family. He had always been interested in the sciences, despite being encouraged to play rough with all the other boys. Eventually, this landed him a job in the Hazardous Materials and Environments Dept. of Gaz Incorporated. This was shortly before the fall of Earth due to nuclear fallout. Pyotr had always been suspecting this, and preemptively fled shortly before the strike across the world. He never really settled in the cold wastes of what remains of Asia, but acts more like a nomad, living off of the liquid oxygen reserves and IV supplements he can scavenge.
Pyotr cannot take off his suit. His immune system has degenerated after years of not being used.
Abilities:
Old man's Intuition: Pete is a scientist with experience in the dangerous field of hazardous materials. He understands many things, and has kept both his suit, and his jeep running for years in the wasteland.
Scientists Will: While Pyotr's immune system failed years ago, his suit handles everything and more than his body could ever hope to. He can survive in many places that no ill-equipped human could.
Birthplace: North Western Russia
Likes: Classical music, the night sky, discussing science and theories
Dislikes: The color red, his suit, nuclear weapons, guns
Weapon: 5mm burst rifle
Skills: Working under pressure, speaking, repairs, comforting others
Weaknesses: His old age, weakening body, depression
Fears: The dark, old age, humanity
Scent: Dust
The duo
View attachment 1619
Age
Gender
Alias: SOfc. Myra
Personaliti
History: Myra had a simple, easy life. Essentially being a freeloader for most of it, sitting around all day reading various books his father would supply him with. Upon turning 18, he was conscripted into the military and was appointed as a combat engineer. Hartson was deployed after two years in rigorous training to an entirely different planet, and proved himself as one of the best technical experts in the battalion. He was valued for once in his life, but was fatally wounded shortly after.
Myra was partially healed by a field medic before they were killed in crossfire, so the Sub-Officer played dead as the enemies completed their assault on the facility. Afterwards, Myra, having two broken legs and one severed arm, dragged himself to a deactivated security bot, and connected it to a nearby desktop. He manually reprogrammed the machine with his one functioning limb, then used it to be dragged around the facility until he found a fallen soldier whose body was more or less intact, merely missing most of his left hand. Utilizing his neural computer, Myra established a remote link to the body of the soldier and found that he had been fried by an EMP wave. Remotely controlling it, he navigated to the mainframe of the entire facility, and transferred the entirety of his consciousness into the building, then to the the fallen soldier, his previous body entering a comatose state.
Myra stumbled over one of the last few remaining escape pods, ejecting out into the cold, empty space in his new body.
Abilities:
Smart guy - Myra used his wits to cheat death. His intellect is nothing to trifle with, and could quite possibly save the lives of those he considers friends.
Segmentation - His body now being made of a durable alloy, Myra is capable of superhuman feats that improve his strength, endurance, mobility, and vision.
Bug-eyed - Speaking of improved vision, each one of those glowing orbs on his head are actually cameras that, when the feeds are combined into one panoramic view, allows Myra to see in all directions. This took him some time to get used to.
The gift of flight? - All over Myra's body, there are strategically placed pulse-thrusters that can be activated once every 15 seconds without risk of overheating. They are essentially controlled explosions used to instantly give the user velocity, however, due to the injured state of his body, Myra is reluctant to use them until he is in tip-top shape.
Specialized armament - Myra's right arm acts as a tesla coil.
Birthplace: Hydra
Likes: Reading, learning, loud noises
Dislikes: Silence, space, combat
Weapon: Myra refuses to use any weapon other than himself.
Skills: Fixing things, improvisation
Weaknesses: He is very bad at fighting, and his brain is never still.
Fears: The other body inside him.
Scent: Dried blood, elecricity
Several more to come.
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