Futuristic UTOPIA - Character Directory

[ERode]

Character Sheet Template​

First Name Last Name
_{Age | Gender | Height | Build (e.g Brawny and Pudgy)}

​

• Physicality
• Individuality
• Capability

• 
  Describe their appearance, including any noteworthy tattoos, scars, bestial traits, or physical deficiencies. Can also go into some detail with regards to how they appear to others here. A few paragraphs should suffice.
  
  Corrosion: Set this to 0.0% to start with.
  Symptoms: Set this to N/A to start with.
  
• 
  Write about any information about themselves that they would willingly share with acquaintances or new friends. As well, describe how they act in public spaces or with others. Think of this as a mixture of Personality and History.
  
  Likes: What do they do if they want to enjoy themselves? What would make them smile if they received it as a gift?
  Dislikes: What would ruin their day? What can they not tolerate in another human being?
  
  
• 
  Describe what it is that they do for a living, and what it is that they train themselves in. If you'd like, come up with a couple of noteworthy instances where they used their skills to accomplish something, such as saving someone from suffocation by slicing open their windpipe and inserting a straw or becoming the runner-up of an underground bareknuckle boxing competition while using only one hand.
  
  Role: Come up with something simple that'd match their capabilities. e.g Rabble-Rouser, Defender, Thief, Chainsaw Man.
  Expertise: Refer to this skills matrix. Of the categorized columns, where would most of their skills be found?
  Skills: Using that same matrix, select three skills in your Expertise, as well as three skills anywhere else. List them here.
  

Spoiler: Naked Code Template

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[img]Insert character appearance here. Portrait preferred.[/img]
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[CENTER]First Name Last Name
[sub]Age | Gender | Height | Build (e.g Brawny and Pudgy)[/sub]
[IMG]https://i.imgur.com/QZMPEMY.png[/IMG]
[/CENTER]
[tabs]
[tab=Physicality]

Corrosion:
Symptoms:
[/tab]
[tab=Individuality]

Likes:
Dislikes:

[/tab]
[tab=Capability]

Role:
Expertise:
Skills:
[/tab]
[/tabs]
[/column][/row]

 

[MilkChocolateBurger]

Arte Dracun
_{29 | Female | 5'8" | Ample and Graceful}

​

• Physicality
• Individuality
• Capability

• 
  Arte resembles a poisonous flower more than anything else. Her deep-blue eyes are weary and often covered in makeup to hide her fatigue. Her long amber hair is well taken care of for someone in the undercity, but naturally resists any attempt to keep it kempt and chooses to flower and bloom rather than rest along her figure. Some of her youthfulness had been taken away from the wear of her vices, but makeup makes up the loss.
  
  Her body is refined, especially for someone with such terrible habits. While she is not weak, her strength and muscles don't stray far from any average. She's tall, especially among those in the undercity. Though, most of her height could likely be attributed to her nourished upbringing. Her loop of withdrawal, sobriety, and relapse has made her appearance more gaunt than before, but her most appealing parts kept their fat. Her skin is free from scars or imperfections, save for the occasional mole. Someone had once described her hair as a lion's mane. Besides that, there are no signs that she has any bestial traits.
  
  She's better dressed than the proles she associates with. Her clothing is made of materials beyond what a citizen of the underground can acquire with their wages. Even with frayed cuffs and threadbare sections, she looks like a princess among paupers. Her style is usually comprised of long coats and suits, yet Arte seems to refuse to wear them formally.
  
  Arte has a deep pride that is apparent in how she acts. When she sits, her back remains straight and her legs remain still and crossed. Her steps are purposeful and each movement she makes is practiced. Even while drunk, she retains the minutia of her actions. If forced to stay sober for long enough, the cracks in her motions begin to show. No matter how hard she tries, she can't hide her tremors, sweats, or laboured breaths.
  
  Corrosion: 0.2%
  Symptoms: N/A
  
• 
  Arte is, so long as she can stomach a conversation, forthcoming about her past. She was born into a megacorp that manufactured arms and was groomed into her career by everyone around her. She wrote plays to sell arms and was commissioned to drive military recruitment. Some of her latest plays were received poorly from some powerful people and she became a liability to her bosses. Off they shipped her to the undercity until she learned something, things cooled down, or they needed an auteur again. Arte was never told the exact reason and it wasn't like anyone tried to defend her. Rather, everyone seemed to come together to throw her under the bus.
  
  If asked about how things are currently going, she's more sardonic. Her job consists of looking at sheets of metal all day, ensuring that, yes, they all look the same. Those under her loathe how cushy her job is and those above her want to feel the rush of speaking down to someone who was once above them.
  
  Arte herself is not very amicable. She borders between misanthropic apathy and outright cruelty depending on when her last drink was. Thankfully, most of her misanthropy and cruelty is aimed with broad strokes. She's more likely to be disinterested to the point of ignoring others. However, some things get her attention. People who go against society interest her to the point where she is willing to hold a conversation. Those who share her interests also have this privilege, whether it be from an offer of gamble or a discussion of theatre. She's at least aware enough to understand that she shouldn't make enemies, so she usually doesn't act too horrible.
  
  Her words are prideful and free from any undercity slang, yet lack the refinement of the surface. The refined language had been lost rather than never learned.
  
  Likes: Booze, gambling, carnality, theatre, outsiders
  Dislikes: Other people, her current circumstances, Dario, meaningless stories
  
  
• 
  Arte's day to day has very little to do with her repertoire of skills. She looks at sheet metal and, when her eyes are working, can almost always spot if there's an imperfection. There's very little use to having such a skill considering that it's only with sheet metal.
  
  Her true skills come from her past on the surface. Even though the majority of her works are meaningless, they are still well written and performed. She has considerable experience acting in her own works; she has woven herself as many different characters throughout her career. From seductresses to starving beggars, her performances had been captivating, especially to the actors that she worked with. It wasn't just performances; she had practically lead everything on her works from costumes to music to promotion. She earned the interest and kinship of the gambler-czar thanks to her brazenness and skill in a game of bluffs thanks to her ability to deceive.
  
  Role: Face
  Expertise: Conspiracy
  Skills: Bluff, Performance, Seduction, Disguise, Apparel, Contacts
  

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

Marcus Flint
_{32 | Male | 5'11" | Toned and Compact}

​

• Physicality
• Individuality
• Capability

• 
  
  At thirty years old, Marcus cuts a tall figure at just under six foot. His black hair is combed loosely and kept at a medium length that covers most of his head. His most defining feature are his red eyes, inherited from his mothers side, combined with the constant bags underneath cause his natural expression to fall somewhere between a glare and a look of contempt. He takes great care of his body, and that includes keeping his skin free from any blemishes or scars. Additionally, while he is not as muscle-bound as others, he does make it a point to keep himself in better shape than the average person. Getting his daily vitamins, keeping his body well hydrated and engaging in light exercise when given the chance.
  
  Marcus dresses practically when at his day job, a thick set of coveralls, a sturdy pair of steel-toed boots and cut resistance gloves. A cloth bandanna and protective goggles help prevent harmful fumes from getting into his lungs or eyes. While at his practice he dresses smart, but no less practically. His steel-toed boots remain, but in place of his coveralls are a pair of grey slacks with a faux-leather belt. A black turtleneck covers his torso, rolled up at the forearm to allow the use of latex gloves during operations. Around his neck lies a pair of identification tags detailing information such as his name, blood type and place of residence. Also present on his hip is a collapsible baton for self defense.
  
  To others, Marcus presents himself as a curt and proper of a man of his position. Professional when required he moves through his clinic with a practiced familiarity, the contents of each and every cabinet and drawer memorized in order to cut precious seconds off when it counts. As part of this, Marcus strives to keep his clinic as sanitary and clean as possible, even going to far as to threaten violence against those who intentionally make a mess of things. Additionally, regardless of ones status, position or danger, he will lecture and berate a patient if they are doing something wrong.
  
  Corrosion: 0.0
  Symptoms: N/A
  
• 
  Marcus is very defensive and secretive about his past, both of his childhood and of his life before he opened his clinic. The only ones who know of his past are the heads of the gangs that he owes favors to, his contact for medical supplies, and Joshua Grantz. Of those three, Joshua is the only one that he has willingly told without any strings attached. His family grew up in an outpost town just outside of the edge of the Storm Wall, kept afloat by supply shipments from the Venturian Republic. Even with those supplies however life was a miserable existence for his family. Every member of the town had to fill a role, and it was their families unfortunate burden to be the town's medical personnel. His childhood was filled with long hours assisting his parents in their duties, with only crude hand-carved toys and thick medical textbooks to keep him entertained. Eventually Marcus's father had enough, not content to live the rest of his life in a nowhere town with no chance of ever getting out. And it was so, him and his family illegally fled from their hometown in order to stake everything on Sancra Sara.
  
  To Marcus, every interaction is businesslike in nature. When interacting with his co-workers at the plant he does so only when necessary, never bothering with small talk or offers to grab a drink after work. Similarly, his interactions with his patients boil down to asking necessary questions and giving instructions such as moving their arm a certain way or biting down on a mouth guard as to not bite through their own tongue. When interacting with gang members he shows them only the amount of respect that they deserve, both sides knowing that their relationship ends the second one side has no use for the other. The only exception to this rule is when he is at The Pit, deep within the thick cigarette smoke and powerful liquor. It is the one place that he allows himself to relax, and the cold exterior slowly erodes into a quiet, but inquisitive guy.
  
  He is very curt and direct to the point, not seeing the point in beating around the bush and wasting time. That is not to say he is callous towards others, as he knows that there is a time and place for everything. He just doesn't wish to waste time, be it his own or the time of others.
  
  Likes: Cigarettes, Money, Books, Bullets, Liquor
  Dislikes: Owing favors, Lack of supplies, Drug abuse, Back-stabbers, Moles
  
  
• 
  
  For Marcus's day to day occupation, he is part of a group that produces and sorts through various screws and bolts. Each day the group inspects each bolt and screw, making sure that no imperfections are present before they're shipped further down the line for the next group. It's boring and tedious work that nearly anyone with a working set of eyes and at least most of their fingers could do.
  
  His real work begins after his shift end, when his cramped hovel of a home becomes one of the only clinics in the Sancra Sara not controlled by one of the four corporations. Most of his clients are those with circuitry, higher-level gangsters and the occasional forge worker dealing with the side-effects of their circuitry. Corrosion, the resulting crystalline growths that if left unchecked would quickly grow and overtake the patients body, quickly cutting away at their expected lifespan. The process can be excruciating, as unless they are willing to dish out the extra payment for anesthetic they would be fully conscious as Marcus would operate, strapped down and restrained to the operating table.
  
  In the rare case where his patient is a normal person with an injury, his standard practice would be to require payment up-front to the level of care they required. If they couldn't afford it, they would be turned away without a second thought. If they could pay however, Marcus could guarantee positive results for whatever ails them. Be it torn ligaments, broken bones, ruptured or punctured organs, anything short of death or incurable illness could be mended for the right price.
  
  While not something that he is proud of, Marcus also holds experience in acquiring information through torture. Owing favors to the Scavs, one of their higher ups requested his assistance in procuring information from a mole. He tries not to remember the experience, hours filled with the tortured and pained screams of a man that wished for a death that was always just out of reach. Perhaps he had done too well of a job, or maybe others had the same idea, but every so often a favor would be called in that required his expertise of the human body.
  
  Role: Medic
  Expertise: Conspiracy
  Skills: Medicine, Poison, Investigation, Sleight of Hand, Analysis, Torture,