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Welcome to Dissonance |
| Musical Offspring; Characters born from playlists. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 6 2010, 12:01 (250 Views) | |
| Teh Haru | Oct 6 2010, 12:01 Post #1 |
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is more kickass than an Infernape!
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So, this is where I'll post my characters. And, this top post, I'll include what music inspired the creation of certain characters. Roger Harrison's character was inspired by Snow Patrol's "Make This Go On Forever." His backstory was inspired by Regina Spektor's "Braille." |
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| Teh Haru | Oct 6 2010, 12:04 Post #2 |
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is more kickass than an Infernape!
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Name: Roger Lloyd Harrison Age: 21 Hometown: Roger was born in a hospital in Acoustica, and that's where he ran to grab supplies and attended school, but he and his mother lived in a small, weathered home close to the shore. There were a few houses out there, owned mostly by fisherman. When he was small, he used to sit on the pier and watch the ferries that transported people and goods to the Acapel Isles. Occupation: Traveler Description: Roger writes poetry and music. He is almost never seen without his guitar, and hopes to be published by the time he's 24. He takes inspiration from watching Eve chase down escaping berries in a field, and from watching children kicking excitedly through the sand. However, he's spent his whole life at the shore outside the shack he grew up in, and yearns to see more of the world, certain that the world could give him limitless opportunities, if only he would reach out and take it. ~ Hair Color: Dark brown, almost black. Looks much lighter in full sunlight, and much darker under fluorescent lights. ~ Eye Color: Mint green. He likes his eyes- they're his mom's eyes- but he gets a lot of attention for having dark features and such fair-colored eyes. He supposes his father had to have light eyes as well, or else he'd be dark-eyed. It didn't make sense any other way, genetically. Or maybe it did. He'd never been a fan of his science classes. ~ Physical Description: Roger is 5'11, broad-shouldered and skinny. However, he comes off as lanky and ill-fitting in his own body. He generally hunches his shoulders, trying to look less like a bird about to take off in flight. His skin is olive, and he has a thick dusting of freckles over his left cheekbone and nose. He only has 6 freckles on the right side of his face, and two of them are just under his eye, causing many people to think he wears makeup. Roger blushes whenever his freckles are brought up, usually because an older woman will helpfully inform him that he has some dirt on his face, or a pretty girl will giggle and wipe a finger under her right eye, coyly mentioning that his mascara has smeared a little. Roger has high cheekbones and straight nose. The bridge of his nose has sturdy bone structure, but is a little wider than average. An old girlfriend once said that it gave the impression of an older, proud lion. Roger blushed and wasn't sure this was a compliment. His square jaw gives him a wide mouth, and while he has a full bottom lip, he has a thin upper lip. He shaves when he remembers, so often his face is a little stubbly, but he never lets it grow any farther than that. Facial hair makes him look like someone who lived a couple centuries ago that got yanked by the cosmos into current times. Roger keeps his hair longish, but the longest strand only reaches his jaw. His haircut is choppy and hair is always in his face, over his forehead and eyes. It is most often unkept and he usually wears a once-white beanie his mother knitted him. Both his ears are pierced. He has a small, silver hoop through each lobe. Around his neck is a thin cross that belonged to his mother, and he wears a silver-banded ring on his index finger that has a small red shield with a navy ribbon across. There's a silver fleur-de-lis centered on the shield. His mother said his father had left it behind on the dresser after he left, and while he doubted the coat of arms was anything more than a commercial bauble his father liked and bought on a whim, it helped him feel more connected to his lineage. ~ Attire: He wears fitted jeans, though not so tight as to show off his goods. His tee-shirts are soft v-necks that come from 4-to-a-packs in dark colors that were on clearance because the bright, Summery colors were in demand. He took his favorite ratty hoodie that probably wouldn't keep him very warm in the snow because he's washed it about thirty-too-many times passed the "throw out" limit. If his mother was still alive, she'd throw it out and buy him another one. But she wasn't, so he keeps wearing the thin, brown hoodie, and the cream-that-used-to-be-white beanie. His sneakers are the only items of his in "new" condition, but only because he travels, and actually needs to keep his shoes in good condition. They're brown with little white pinstripes, and they're the slip-on ones that those kids with the too-tight jeans wear, but all Roger noticed was that they were 50% off, and they didn't have laces that he was likely to trip over, or rip off when running through bushes, chasing Eve to reclaim some article of clothing she took from his bag in the interest of play-time. ~ Items: Roger keeps his guitar strapped across his body, and a bookbag to carry the rest of his belongings slung over the unoccupied shoulder. Sometimes Eve would ride on the shoulder with the bag- having learned that on the other shoulder, you are likely to be accidentally bumped by the guitar. The bag was dark green once, but had faded with use. The bag held an assortment of pens, two notebooks, a couple changes of clothing, some hygiene items, and an mp3 player. He keeps petty cash and his phone in his pockets, and his bank-card and larger bills in his guitar case. Personality: Roger is quiet, and thoughtful, but doesn't try to be mysterious; he's more unsure of himself, and often wary that his words will get thrown back at him. He flusters easily and often uses Eve as a shield. Usually, he doesn't have to say much while people spoil his Pokémon with attention. He's always been artistic and struggled with math and science. He wasn't popular at school, but he wasn't an outcast. He generally sat with the other art students at lunch, but he didn't really like some of them. He thought most of them threw themselves into the "misunderstood" role because they felt insignificant otherwise. Roger keeps many of his opinions to himself. He's a pacifist to a fault, and avoids conflict. He's awkward in groups, but thrives when paired with an individual. He hates when people ask him to play something for them, but hasn't quite figured out a way to politely decline. When he's with people he trusts, Roger is very honest, almost absently so. Biography/History: Ana knew from the moment that the stick turned pink that she would never be able to offer her child everything he or she would need to be successful in the world, so she endeavored to give the baby the most impressive name she could come up with. While Roger's full name was a little old-fashioned, his defining features carried the name well. If he would stand up straight and dress in his Sunday best, there'd be something regal about him. Unknowingly, Ana did give her son the means to becoming successful, all he needed was the experience to back it up. Ana had been a painter in her senior year with dreams of raising Smeagles when she conceived Roger. His father had been a young man she'd brought home fuzzily, and in the morning, all she was left was rumpled bedcovers, an abandoned ring, and memories that wouldn't stop spinning long enough for her to grab a proper hold on. While she would always carry the shame she felt over the details of her son's birth, she was never ashamed of him. She loved him dearly, and sold paintings of the sea crashing against the piers to tourists to raise him. Some months were tight, and sometimes she felt the biting pain of hunger so that her son would never know how close they were to being completely resourceless. Ana had always been beautiful, even as she aged. She was fair, with white-blonde curls and mint-colored eyes. The fisherman that were her neighbors joked that she was a water-spirit and blessed their fishing. Maybe if she hadn't been so fair, she wouldn't have died. When Roger was 17, Ana was diagnosed with stage IV melanoma. He was distraught, but tried to be strong and worked to keep his mother comfortable. She died shortly after. Roger mourned his mother in his own way, completing his senior year quietly, not touching his guitar for months after her death. Everything had happened so quickly that he had a hard time dealing with the aftermath. When the worse of the grief had subsided, Roger took his guitar into the trees that surrounded his property. While picking absently at chords, he noticed a Pokémon chasing a berry across the dirt, batting it excitedly, as if it was pretending the berry was its prey. Quietly, he went back into his house and opened one of his mother's drawers. Inside were a couple empty Pokéballs, and he knitted his thick eyebrows for a second before picking up a green one that appeared to have a fireworks pattern on the front. He returned outside to see the small, kit-like creature eating the berry, unaware of his presence. He tossed the ball haphazardly, wincing when the contraption hit the beast between the ears. It turned to give him a disgruntled look as red light bathed the area and sucked the Pokémon into the ball. Under his care, Eve grew strongly into maturity. She was playful and kitten-like even into maturity, and he grew fond of her. An internet search showed that Eve had a small peculiarity; the tips of her ears had cream-colored spots. With Eve at his side, Roger began to write in earnest, and began his plans of traveling. Pokémon: Nickname: Eve Species: Eevee Gender: Female Nature: Quirky Personality: Eve is playful and can be feisty at times. Her moods come and go, and while she'll be content to stretch out in the sun one moment, she'll be tearing through the underbrush in the next instant. Roger was once told that after a Pokémon evolves, the Pokémon's personality changes too. Roger waved the advice off, brushing it off as an old wives' tale. But the next time he was in town, he bought Eve a thin gold collar with a pretty Everstone hanging from it. It sat just below her neck ruffles and was nearly invisible. Level: 68 Attacks: Bite Quick Attack Sand Attack Attract Swift Wish Pokéball: Friend Ball . Sample RP . Roger stared at his home, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Eve, agitated by all the preparations flicked her ears and made a high-pitched noise in her throat. The young man hummed low in his chest, calming his companion with well-practiced ease. He should be locking up, right now. He should be on the road. He should be writing a song about learning the road. But there he was, standing in front of the house where his mother had slaved to raise him while trying to accomplish some tiny fraction of her dreams, and where she had died, out quicker than the flame of a candle doused with water. "And her seas full of grace, She found a suitor in the Sky," he sang quietly, almost under his breathe, locking the door to his shack. He had packed the belongings of the house and put them in storage. He had left a spare key with his neighbor, Thomas, who said he'd make sure it was still standing whenever Roger returned. He felt like he was finally saying goodbye to his mother. He thought he had done it when he had given her Smeagle to her lover. He and John Deiros had never seen eye to eye, but he'd be damned if he allowed his mother's beloved Pokémon suffer while he grieved and struggled with bills. He was older now though, and had done well enough with Eve, and he wondered if would've been alright. He wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been so hasty. In any case, he was sure Meade was well-loved and well-cared for by John, and Roger wasn't about to turn back from where he was now. He was good now. Healed. He missed his mother, but it didn't feel like loss anymore. He didn't feel like a little boy anymore. So, it was time for him to follow his own dreams, instead of wasting the ones his mother had never achieved. Eve headbutted Roger in the ankle, making anxious little movements with her feet, like a little girl who had held it just a moment too long and really had to go. "I know, girl," he mumbled, his voice husky, like he had just woken up. Maybe he had. Not from sleep, but maybe from that place where a boy became a man. With that thought, he turned from the house that was the inheritance he had never wanted, and started on the trail toward Acoustica. Making a light clicking noise with his tongue, he shouldered his guitar and bag, unsurprised when Eve climbed a little too hastily up his arm and almost went over the front of his shoulder. Edited by Teh Haru, Oct 25 2010, 11:45.
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