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Green Horn
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Post by Nik Valentine on Mar 15, 2015 17:56:07 GMT -5
Full Name: Nik 'Valentine' Alias: Valentine Age: 20 Occupation Before the Apocalypse: Design Student Hometown: Austin, Texas. Living in NYC at the time of the outbreak. Weapon of Choice: An easily frazzled Nik prefers to avoid walkers at all cost, and is far from the fighting type. However, Nik carries around an old Smith & Wesson that he's only ever fired once.
Hair Color Style and Length: Nik's hair is dark brown and it is a perpetual windswept mess. Not that he'd have it any other way, of course. Eye Color: His eyes area brilliant blue-ish green which shine like sunlight on polished stone and hide a wealth of well justified mistrust. Body Type and Height: Nik stands at a slightly taller than average height. He is six feet even, weighing about one hundred and thirty five pounds. His build is extremely lean and athletic, naturally gifted with this incredible physique due to the fact that Nik has never been one to work out. Clothing Type: Nik still wears a casual attire, his old grey cardigan combined with a pair of tight jeans. The only change he's made was acquiring a pair of old lace up boots that are a size too big. Marks and Scars: No marks or scars as of yet, he has had minimal encounters with walkers. Faceclaim: Ben Bowers
Likes: photography, literature, video games, music & cheesecake. Dislikes: loud/abrasive personalities, combat, the country-side, the dark & bugs. Strengths: Nik is very agile [prefers escape opposed to combat], experienced in first aid, resilient, authentic & trust-worthy. Fears: Death [Turning to a walker]. Goals: His goal before this all went down was to become a big shot designer in NY, but now he's content on trying to survive and finding someone he trusts.
Family: Nik had been flatting in NY at the time of the crisis. He is originally from Texas, and the sole child of conservative farmers, Dave & Jillian. At the age of sixteen, Nik left for New York after his parents were disgusted to discover their son was gay. Since then Nik has had no contact with his parents and little concern as to if they survived the outbreak. How Many Walkers Have They Killed?: None How Many People Have They Killed?: One Why?: Nik attempted to shoot a walker trapping his roommate, ultimately dealing the fatal blow himself. Ever since, Nik avoids combat and most certainly guns at all cost.
History:
Nik was originally from Texas, born to a pair of conservative farmers. He moved to NY at the age of sixteen having been kicked out by his parents for his "disgusting" life choices. At the time of the apocalypse he was studying photography at the New York School of Design. As it turned out, his ability to photograph events hasn't proven to be of much use. After the refugee center was overrun, he attempted to make it back to his old apartment complex with his room-mate John. On their way back John is cornered by walkers, Nik panics, misfired and shot him instead. Nik eventually made it back to his evacuated apartment complex and hides out there, with hopes to ride out the events. Nik has proven to be an excellent scavenger with a strong knowledge of the city and the back streets of his area. However, he understandably avoids guns and combat is not something that comes natural to him.
[It's a little short at the moment, but I will add more]
Your Alias/Nickname: Gray RP Experience: Beginner RP Sample: I thought since I am a beginner I would just write the first piece of my character as an example. I apologize in advance, I was never the best writer but I hope you're at least able to follow it. [Also if you have any advice or feedback let me know].
The pain doesn’t go away, you just make room for it. I never thought it would escalate to this. Well...I never really thought about it at all to be honest. I was so self-absorbed with my own monotonous routine, to even bother considering a possible pandemic. But, how could anyone foresee this?
I was never the most sociable person, an introvert by nature, but that's not to say I don't like talking to people. I've just always found it difficult to make friends or vocalize my thoughts, due to an underlying fear of judgment. Growing up being different, you're going to be subjected to a lot of prejudice and we all have our own ways of coping I guess. I just chose to be quiet, because they can't judge me if they don't know me. Despite all that, at this moment I would do anything just to have someone to talk to... Sure, I've seen plenty around, but I don't have a death wish. New Yorkers didn't have a reputation for being the friendly type in the first place, but since the outbreak that reputation has increased ten-fold. People murdering people all for a can of peas or worse, because they can. It's a living hell and what's worse is I'm all alone. I guess you could say I have a bubble wrapped around me, defending myself from getting hurt because ever since the outbreak lady luck has been on my side. After the refugee center went down and I lost John I spent the first few weeks assuming I could just ride it out, while the government sort this shit out. I went back to our old apartment complex that was long evacuated. The bottom floors had been pillaged, but I managed to find a decent assortment of food and supplies on the higher floors. You'd think a situation like this would encourage people to endure a few flights of stairs but I wasn't complaining, I had food, shelter and familiar surroundings. I don't remember how long I spent in that room, staring at the beige wallpaper, following the seamless pattern across each wall. Waking up, looking out the window, only to see the mass of walkers below had grown. I was going insane, I had to get out of there, but maybe I made a mistake. - I shouldn't be alive, no matter how quick or evasive I am, there's no reason I shouldn't be dead. I can't shoot or fight, yet here I am wondering the desolate streets of Dryden. The barren landscape is hideous, I never understood why one had to be in the middle of nowhere to feel tranquil. It's as though they'd never heard of literature or music, it's as good if not better escape and a decent coffee is still within range. What I wouldn't do for a decent coffee or simply a decent sleep, turns out sleeping on the ground is about as comfortable as you'd expect it to be. At least in NYC I had a bed and abundance of buildings to lurk through. Six months later and I literally have nothing, I don't know why I'm surprised, "I'm as much use as a one legged man in an arse kicking competition" my father used to say. I pause, no matter how much I try to forget my parents they always manage to weasel their way back in. Shelter, I quickly change my train of thought. It's getting late and I really should have picked a spot to camp out in a while ago. I notice a vibrant red barn in the distance, as if signally for me to visit. I jump the fence and head towards it, I just hope this one doesn't smell like shit.
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Green Horn
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Post by Nik Valentine on Mar 17, 2015 6:19:20 GMT -5
BUMP.
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Post by Nik Valentine on Mar 17, 2015 16:15:33 GMT -5
BUMP :3
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Don't Forget to Remember Me
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Leader
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Post by Elletnah on Mar 17, 2015 20:44:39 GMT -5
Accepted!!!! Welcome to Pretty Much Dead!
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