PLAYER INFORMATION
NAME: Tom
CONTACT: AIM - lowkeyleighsmith MSN - lenny_normal@hotmail.com
HOW YOU FOUND US: Was told about this site.
OTHER CHARACTERS ON THE SITE None
RULES CODE: Xavier
CREDIT WHERE IT'S DUE: http://marvel.wikia.com/Strength_Scale - For character comparison etc.
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Jonny Lee Miller as Simon "Sickboy" Willamson from the film Trainspotting (1996)
Original
AFFILIATION: Other
FULL NAME: Jack Resin
CODENAME: Savage
NICKNAMES: J.R, MR Savage, Res
CURRENT AGE: 25
DATE OF BIRTH: 4th April 1984
MARITAL STATUS: Single
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
BASE OF OPERATIONS: New York, Mutant Town
HOMETOWN: London, United Kingdom
KNOWN RELATIVES: Father - Alan Resin
Mother - Susan Pelson
Filed for divorce October of 1992
PHYSICAL APPEARANCEHEIGHT:6'0
BUILD: Relatively thin, lanky, awkward to look at.
EYES: Blue, devious.
HAIR: Bleach Blonde, styled into the purposely disorganised spikes of a complete poser.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Pale skin, rings around the eyes. Likes to think they give him that haunted look.
CLOTHING STYLE: Generally wears clothes from the more fashionable end of the spectrum. That is to say suits, or at least a long coat, at all times. Might have something to with the irony of calling himself Savage then putting on what is seen as a mark of civilization, might just be because he thinks he looks suave. Probably the latter since he's exactly the kind of idiot who wears sunglasses all the time, even in doors.
UNIFORM: N/A
POWERSGENERAL DESCRIPTION: To put it simply Jack possesses the power to grow in strength, speed and pain tolerance in direct proportion to the size of any conflicts, both physical and verbal in a range of up to half a mile. He does this through a low level telepathic field resonating from him, the specific strength and range of which depends on a variety of factors including how wide awake, focused, physically fit and mentally stable he is. The effects of finding himself in an area of conflict are almost instantaneous, his body adapting within a matter of seconds or minutes depending on the situation. any aggression directed at Jack as an individual has a greater effect on his powers rather than if it had been to someone else and he was just in the area.
There are of course several limitations to this basic concept. Jack is only able to pick up those emotions which merit action. Hence anything lower than a heated argument between more than two people will have no effect on him. His proximity to those exhibiting the anger also affects how much he can exploit from it. For example he would be weaker if he was a couple of blocks away from a small riot rather than right in the centre of it. Also the more drastic the act of violence or aggression the greater it's "range". In practice this means that whilst Jack might be able to pick up the riot from a couple of blocks away he would have to be in the same room as the warring couple to even try and register them. When there are no available sources of conflict Jack's strength will decrease until it is back to its original levels.
WEAKNESS: Since it's impossible to be linked directly or indirectly to that much of humanity's most primal emotion at a certain point (most often from being in an area of too high a conflict for too long) will cause him to black out into a frenzy. During this time, although he'll retain his strength, he will be powered by the rage which he has tapped into. The perfect portrayal of human indecency that his codename: Savage implies. Of course the process isn't instantaneous, signs that it is about to take place though are repeated headaches, nausea and of course heightened aggression from Jack himself (who is usually not affected by the feelings of those he exploits) within up to fifteen minutes of going feral. As soon as he loses all manner of self-control the semi-telepathic field he relies on to gain his powers is reduced to nothing as it is directly affected how stable Resin is as a person. This means he is only able to maintain the Savage effect for a maximum of four hours and then he won't be able to access his powers for up to 7-12 days as his field re-establishes itself.
The upper limits of his strength before suffering a blackout can be accessed in any situation with the same amount of aggression as a mid-sized riot of around 70-100 people. In these kinds of situations he will still experience headaches but be able to lift just under 5 tons, do the 100 metres in 8 seconds and walk on broken limbs whilst being seemingly oblivious of them.
This difficulty involving focus extends to events when Resin is just in a bad mood himself. Unlike the anger of those around him, any negative emotions on his part will just prove to make his own abilities less effective and when you are in actual fact weaker than a normal person on most occasions this can be a dangerous situation to find yourself in.
There is also the problem of his constantly fluctuating strength and resistance to pain. Jack cannot control to what extent his powers are active and there have been certain occasions in which he has inadvertently injured himself and those around him because of a sudden change of atmosphere. For example if he broke a bone in a fight it would be quite a long time before he noticed it and took the necessary action to treat it.
The limits of Jack's powers before his brain fries itself from linking itself to the minds of so many are unknown to even himself. However theoretically if he was exposed to the environs of a mid-sized country wide war zone and the strength associated with it (which would be somewhere along the lines of being able to lift around 10 tonnes, being able to run a 100m sprint in 6 second and be oblivious to the loss of limbs) it would inevitably have him black out and if the change was sudden would probably turn his mind to mush, permanently, in the process. Any higher and he would no longer be able to function, experiencing a blackout within 5 minutes and, if he doesn't get around 10 miles from the conflict , face the risk of violent epileptic like fits soon after that only to be followed by death.
((OOC bit here - As it would be pretty easy for me to just go in and post something along the lines of "Jack saw the couple arguing from across the street and instantly gained strength" (of course in a much more delicate way) the only times that the power will really apply is in times when player characters are fighting amongst themselves, in an obvious area of conflict, or if an NPC is previously said to be fighting or there's a good reason for an NPC to get enraged. Obviously if anyone has any complaints with how the strength is growing in proportion to the violence I WILL tone it down within good reason. Just putting this up to help me avoid God-Modding and all that jazz))
PERSONALITYPolite, mature, good humoured. Jack appears to be all these things but with obvious malicious intent. His politeness has the edge of constant criticism, the maturity becoming patronisation and the humour almost always taking on that dark slant. This might be why he lacks any real friends except those exactly like himself, the terminally stupid and people he has just in fact met.
His explanation for his behaviour is simple. He is successful, anyone who disputes this factis clearly mentally deficient or just jealous of his obvious superiority. Hence his right to treat them like the scum and idiots they are. Of course this may be a huge illusion on his part. Getting a suit does not, of course make one prosperity incarnate. It's all only skin deep. Hence why people find it hilarious when it comes to a situation where he finds he has to sincerely suck up to someone. It's somewhat like grovelling. A very spiteful sarcastic kind of grovelling which has the recipient adopt a face which resembles both satisfaction and contempt at the same time.
In short what we have here is an arrogant, self obsessed, sarcastic, malevolent, contradictory narcissist of a man who manages to hide this from all but those who know him for prolonged periods of time under the carefully created disguise of a well mannered, suave gentleman of leisure. Despicable really.
HISTORY Born in inner city London; Jack was never going to be anything special. His birth was mundane, his parents dull (an electrician and housewife) his house a semi detached two storey dwelling. Nothing was expected of him except that he go through all the motions: nursery, school, job, taxes, marriage, children, retirement and finally death. It's bliss when that is all you have to do. He wasn't going to discover the cure for Cancer, build the fastest car or most powerful computer. Life was going to be sweet.
Those first eight years were the best that any child in his situation could hope for. He made the superficial playmate friends of a child his age, learned to walk and talk, read and write, had cake and ice-cream on his birthday. His first years at school were met with success as he was constantly praised for his supposed intuitiveness, behaviour and effort by his teachers. This, of course, resulted in more ice-cream and possibly a toy or two. The beautifully simple rewards in life that any under eight expects. Never did he notice the steely gazes his mother gave his father. Nor did he comprehend the snide comments and constant griping his father inflicted upon his mother. That was not until it was too late.
The year before Jack's eighth birthday was a formative one. The cracks in his parent's marriage were becoming chasms. Vicious arguments resulted in hours, and in one memorable occasion, days of silence. When verbal communication did resume it was again in the form of a barrage of insults, often completing a vicious circle when the silence came back again. The young Jack watched in horror as his mother and father ruined the illusion he had that everything was going to be okay. Therefore when they finally brought him downstairs that evening, sat him down on the sofa it wasn't a huge and explained the situation frankly it wasn't a huge surprise. Mummy didn't love Daddy so much anymore so Mummy was going to be leaving for a few weeks. Although it was expected Jack couldn't help the tears, this only spurned another argument. Shouting filled the sitting room and Jack was in the middle of it crying his eyes out. When his father went to grab Jack's arm in an attempt to help him out the room to bed it happened. An eight year old child pulled his arm away and almost tore a forty year old's arm out of its socket. A hospital trip of course followed, nothing was really thought of the cause of the injury. Excuses were made and after the doctors said he was going to be fine Jack was dragged out of his relatively nice existence in the semi-detached house to live with granny in a tower block by his mother as dad recovered. Divorce quickly followed.
The next few birthdays made it evident that Jack was in decline as he was flung between his father and mother's homes he was introduced to a variety of new partners as well as step brothers and sisters. All these relationships on both sides inevitably failed imbuing the boy with an unhealthy degree of pessimism. This was again reflected in his behaviour at school. He became confrontational fell into what is commonly known as "the wrong crowd". Kids much older than himself, mostly brothers and cousins of his comrades at school, were his friends now. He replaced the love of his parents with the skin deep fondness of this new social setting. They saw him more of a curiosity, tolerated him when he was just a funny little kid, shunned and abused him when he was just an annoying brat. Jack was persistent though and soon enough he was a permanent fixture in the ensemble. The relationship was relatively short lived though. Jack's family became aware of his "activities". In a rare instance of cooperation they put a stop to them through the tactical use of nightly curfews, grounding and encouragement to find friends his own age. This generally worked out with the child making a genuine effort to fit in with crowd he started to regain some of the normality that he had lacked for the last few years.
Of course things change. With adolescence creeping up on him the ability he had demonstrated with the breakup of his parents was bound to surface in a much more permanent manner very soon. His entry into secondary school at age eleven and the gradual advent of his powers led to his classification as that "weird mutie kid". The process was gradual. Kids who confronted Jack ended up with broken bones or worse, whispers went around as to the cause and when the boy himself was found standing somewhat dumbfounded with someone twice his size in a foetal position on the floor it was inevitable that the label of "mutant" was officially applied when he was somewhere into his fourteenth year. He was lonely, shunned again by classmates as a dangerous loser.
This was not the end, however. The young Mister Resin was not short of "friends" who "saw through" his ability, not least the group of older now very adult ne'er do wells he hung around with during his earlier years. Most having left school now and taking viable career positions as the unemployed, destitute and amateur druggies of London. He was taken advantage of yet again in his vulnerable position as he was made to feel actually worth something. A member of the gang yet again he rapidly fell back into disrepute, never to return again to the more civil, law abiding side of authority. By sixteen he had failed GCSEs and left school, eighteen left the junkies behind and now hung around with one of the larger criminal groups in the greater London area, mostly as muscle. His competence at the job though had created the foundations for the arrogance he would exhibit in later life. The relationships he made were skin deep, the career path he had chosen being full of the usual backstabbing specimens meant that any emotional guards he had built up were there to stay, bringing back again a much more developed cynicism on any kind of genuine social interaction. It was a surprisingly happy time for him, life was simple. He made money, he spent it and then replenished his stores. He even got himself a flat of his own and an on again off again girlfriend who's name is not even that important (the relationship, as you can guess, was purely physical).
Enemies are made though, people who Jack wouldn't be able to fight off came looking for him. After a few "good friends" got hurt the choice was clear. Either run or get your head smashed in by a few very emotionally cold chaps who were only doing it for the money. He decided the former option, packed his belongings and brought a plane ticket to New York and the growing Mutant District of the city to see if he could make it any better with his own kind. He was wrong. There was only two things that he was any good at and that was hurting people and being an arrogant bastard. The first was desirable if you were looking to start at the bottom of the ladder again, the second not so much. Eventually though he found a niche, he found freelance work. He managed to rebuild as much as possible without fearing too much about what was probably happening in London. Life was sweet, life was back to a norm he knew and he was already starting to build connections. Then Apocalypse came, obviously things got worse yet again.
DURING APOCALYPSE: War campaigned across New York and the Eastern Seaboard. The pure feelings of animal rage that radiated from it and the soldiers under its command. Jack was quick to pick up on it. His strength increased tenfold, his speed equally so. He felt it this time. Actually felt it instead of just being able to observe the effects. A white hot anger that pierced his mind like so many needles. He wanted to scream, wanted to cut the throats of all those around him, wanted to play their ribs like some primal musical instrument. Wanted to do worse. That is until he blacked out.
What can be gathered is that Savage went, well, savage. For the first time in fact blood thirst of others had managed to break through into his mind proper and he had done all he could to fulfil it and escape it at the same time. Probably why he awoke hungry and thirsty in a ditch some way out of the city cloaked in the remains of his clothes with blood on his hands. Probably why when he came back to the city he booked himself into the nearest cheap hotel that was actually open and sat in the room for around three days straight, ordering food from room service and asking it to be left outside the room. For the first time since London Jack was terrified.
SAMPLE RP POST:London - 2003
"Let me in Simon, I just want to talk."
He definitely didn't "just want to talk".
"I'm kind of busy here, can we do this another time?"
Already knowing the answer
"Afraid not mate, sorry"
Simon looked around his squat, all bare floorboards and peeling wall paper. He looked back at the door. It was inevitable he was going to have to let the psycho in. Either that or watch as the paper thin locks were jarred open by the crowbar he almost certainly had on his person. This was, after all, a business meeting. Well, if it was going to be like that, he grabbed the baseball bat he had exactly for the kinds of occasions when unwanted visitors came-a-calling and reached to undo the first lock.
This was taking longer than expected he ran a hand through his bleach blond hair and adjusted his sunglasses. Couple them with the Armani suit and black overcoat he bet he looked sexy as Hell. If only there was a mirror. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of his obviously superior physical attributes though. Now was the time to get into this shameful excuse of a flat and get what his superiors had asked for, namely money and a pledge to pay back all those lovely debts Mister Green had been building up. It had taken a surprisingly long time for the arsewipe to even unlock the door. The cunning little traitor was planning something, Jack knew it.
"Fine then," look at his eyes, huge bloodshot orbs that bulge from the skull like one of those novelty stress balls when squeezed. Contrasting with the rest of his face which has become a hollow effigy of humanity. Matchstick arms pointed towards the inside of the apartment. Didn't even have sofa, just a yellowing mattress with stains. The much more sophisticated member of the pair surveyed the single room, forcing a smile out, stretching the skin to an ugly extent. He turned.
"Well, I suppose you know why I'm..." There was a snarl as a mass of processed wood smashed into Jack's stomach.
He fell easily enough, clutching at his stomach with all the dignity of, well, someone who had just been hit in the stomach by a junkie. Simon himself was hardly pleased with the results. He looked down at the huddled up figure on the floor and then at the bat in his hands. His next word perfectly outlined his situation.
"Shit," he muttered then louder "really shouldn't have done that," he was shaking now. "And you, and you shouldn't have come here," he pointed at Jack, directing his own feeling of guilt and anger towards the currently indisposed Mr Resin. He was going to be killed for this. He was going to end up in some dumpster or river. So stupid. So bloody stupid. He went over to the door and closed it properly. He needed time to think and his visitor wasn't going anywhere, still whimpering on the floor. Well not so much whimpering but he was definitely making a sound. Laughing maybe? It wouldn't surprise Simon what with this creature being an utter sadist. Look at him crawling at the floor, turning his face to look up and - oh no.
"No, you really shouldn't have done that,"
A series of punches that left his teeth as jagged stumps, a snap back of the arm had it hanging loosely at his side and a final assault on the torso brought about the result of Simon now being the one lying on the floor crying out in pain. Resin stood over him, smiling as he counted through the bundle of notes that had been stuffed into the mattress. Trust these addicts to not trust the banks to keep their insubstantial amounts of currency. Fortunately he had the amount he owed them. A job well done.
A couple of minutes later the Savage left the apartment building which had served as the residence of one Mister Simon Green for quite some time.
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