AGE 4, PRONOUNS He/Him, JOB Musician
CLASSIFICATION Homunculus, SOURCE Original
3
POSTS
RECENT
FUNDS
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Post by Wolfram-39 on Sept 25, 2017 6:50:27 GMT
[attr="class","optop"] [attr="class","oplyrics"]drowning in desperation; my eyes burning red. taken by disconnected lust. feed, choke, despise. they prey upon us. our death of self-restraint. maggots, inhaling praise, make low my high. torn apart, all alone. sacred heart, made of | [attr="class","optext"]stone |
[attr="class,"oppost"]  Rain was pretty much Wolfram-39's least favourite weather. Not only because now it made doing outdoor gigs and busking difficult to impossible, but any soldier worth their salt hated the rain. Not only did it soak one to the bone, sapping their warmth and strength, but it also necessitating marching, crawling, and fighting through the mud. War was hellish enough without being submerged to the knee in mud and filth. A day spent plastering advertising material for his band's next gig - it wasn't like they could afford marketing - was interrupted by the rain. Frustrating, but there was naught he could do about it, save for drawing up his hoodie, and trying to shield the posters he had left from the rain. He was more concerned with finding a place to wait out the hopefully-brief shower, and less with his immediate surroundings. So he was caught off-guard by a splash of water that made it onto the posters he held in his hands. For a moment, rain sluiced off a barely-visible barrier about Wolfram-39's person, as he looked for the source. Geometric markings visible on his face and hands flared into life, illuminating his shadowed face in pale blue light. It only lasted a moment, as his eyes found the perpetrator. The barrier vanished, along with the light. It was a child, innocently splashing in the rain. For an unknown purpose. He briefly realized that he hadn't ever spoken to a child in his life - before coming to this island, he hadn't even seen one. Another glance at the posters confirmed that a good few of them were damaged at best, and ruined at worst. Anger flared up within him. A mild anger; calm, really, in relativity. But anger nonetheless. "The hell're you doing?" Wolfram-39 said. His tone wasn't furious, but he was clearly frustrated, even though his unkempt face was still fairly impassive. @pikachu
Notes: Blublebek. Have a metalhead. [newclass=.optop]background-color:#767c0b;width:500px;padding:30px 20px 30px 20px;[/newclass] [newclass=.oplyrics]font-family:courier new;font-size:8px;color:#fff;padding:10px 15px 10px 0px;border-right:solid 1px #fff;text-align:right;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.optext]font-family:arial;font-size:30px;font-weight:bold!important;text-transform:lowercase;color:#fff;letter-spacing:-3px;margin-left:10px;[/newclass] [newclass=.oppost]background-color:#f9f9f9;border-bottom:solid 20px #767c0b;padding:20px;width:100%;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:#222;[/newclass] [newclass=.oppost b]font-weight:bold;color:#767c0b;[/newclass] |
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AGE 4, PRONOUNS He/Him, JOB Musician
CLASSIFICATION Homunculus, SOURCE Original
3
POSTS
RECENT
FUNDS
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Post by Wolfram-39 on Sept 10, 2017 23:31:52 GMT
[attr="class","optop"] [attr="class","oplyrics"]drowning in desperation; my eyes burning red. taken by disconnected lust. feed, choke, despise. they prey upon us. our death of self-restraint. maggots, inhaling praise, make low my high. torn apart, all alone. sacred heart, made of | [attr="class","optext"]stone |
[attr="class,"oppost"] The problem with the size of Tomodachi Island, in terms of what had become Wolfram-39's new career, was that it wasn't the best to support niche genres. Sure, it wasn't like he wasn't the only person on the island who connected with the raw emotion, driving bass, and complex melodies of metal, or even the only one who desired to play it. But it wasn't exactly a lucrative job. Not that he really needed the money for much else beyond food or rent; now that he had a guitar, amp, and microphone, he was pretty much set. Still, to make ends meet required more than the occasional gig. And that meant one of two things; busking, or putting his fit body to use doing manual labour. Today, he opted for the former. Of course, busking without the rest of the band not only limited the types of song he could play - not having a second guitar, drums, bass, or other vocalists really limited what he could make effective - but he also had to deal with noise complaints. Wolfram-39 allowed himself a wry grin as he finished setting up for the final song in his set before he breaked for a late lunch. Just because he wasn't about to scream himself completely hoarse didn't mean he had to provide his audience, willing and otherwise, with a feel-good song. It began, as many songs do, with a powerful rhythm, Wolfram-39 forced to go without the more complex melodies, given his solo performance. When the lyrics began - powerfully sung but not screamed - they were not happy ones. An indirect accusation that the audience was blind and dying, and that the same was mostly true of himself. "I! see the weight of hollow death; residing in you. Take now your final breath; exhale the truth. I see the fear of nothing left; dead fragments of youth. You hold it in yourself; I feel it too."Singing bordered on, to the untrained ear, simply yelling into the microphone as he transitioned into the pre-chorus. "I mourn your blindness; I die along; and swallow darkness," A short and sharp inhale of breath, before Wolfram-39 allowed his voice to lapse into deep and throaty yelling. "IN MISERY IS WHERE I BELONG!" Well, if someone wanted to complain, it wouldn't have been the first time. A pitch shift later, and he was back to singing, mentally cursing the lack of power the song had without the drums and bass thumping behind him. The chorus wasn't confrontational, really, more contemplative, though the music remained aggressive. "Collapsing in on yourself; I don't know why; I try. Collapsing in on yourself; I don't know why; you deny!" He held that note, throwing himself into the song, ignorant to how the listeners reacted, or if he was receiving any money at all. The verses and choruses continued, and, with a guitar solo and one final delivery of the chorus, half of it acapella, the song ended, Wolfram-39 allowing the final strains of his voice and guitar linger. There was some scattered applause - he was relatively good at his craft after all - and he muttered a half-hearted thanks for listening into the mic before starting to take down his equipment. Hopefully he'd earned enough today to at least cover food. @open
Notes: Lyrics adapted from Collapsing, by Demon Hunter[newclass=.optop]background-color:#767c0b;width:500px;padding:30px 20px 30px 20px;[/newclass] [newclass=.oplyrics]font-family:courier new;font-size:8px;color:#fff;padding:10px 15px 10px 0px;border-right:solid 1px #fff;text-align:right;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.optext]font-family:arial;font-size:30px;font-weight:bold!important;text-transform:lowercase;color:#fff;letter-spacing:-3px;margin-left:10px;[/newclass] [newclass=.oppost]background-color:#f9f9f9;border-bottom:solid 20px #767c0b;padding:20px;width:100%;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:#222;[/newclass] [newclass=.oppost b]font-weight:bold;color:#767c0b;[/newclass] |
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AGE 4, PRONOUNS He/Him, JOB Musician
CLASSIFICATION Homunculus, SOURCE Original
3
POSTS
RECENT
FUNDS
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Post by Wolfram-39 on Sept 10, 2017 14:20:26 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rcapplication"] [attr="class","rcapplication2"] [attr="class","rcappleft"]
[attr="class","rcapptop"] [attr="class","rcappimg"]  [attr="class","rcapptop2"] WOLFRAM-39 |
[attr="class","rcapphov"] [attr="class","rcapphov2"] [PTabbedContent] [PTab= [attr="class","rcapptab"]CANON ] [attr="class","rcappleft2"] [attr="class","rcappleft3"] [attr="class","rcappleft4"] [attr="class","rcapplefttitle"]POINT OF DEPARTURE [attr="class","rcappleft5"]
His unit cut off and surrounded, Wolfram-39 concluded that, even if they somehow managed to fight their way out of their encirclement before their supplies ran out, that they were almost assuredly going to lose the war, and probably die. Suddenly gripped by a fear for his life, Wolfram-39 deserted, his last memories prior to winding up on Tomodachi Island the bullets fired and curses hurled by his commanding officer at his retreating, treasonous form.
[attr="class","rcappleft2"] [attr="class","rcappleft3"] [attr="class","rcappleft4"] [attr="class","rcapplefttitle"]CHARACTER ABILITIES [attr="class","rcappleft51"]
MANUFACTURED MAGIC-USER
In his world, Wolfram-39 would not be classified as a magus, as he is only capable of wielding magic that has been burned into his brain and body with carefully crafted formulae. The advantage he, and other homunculi like him, have is that he can cast those spells with great speed and efficiency, requiring no incantations, rituals, or complex gestures. Wolfram-39 has access to three spells; Personal Defence Boundary, Manifest Armament, and Kinetic Driver. This makes him an inflexible but dangerous adversary, at least as long as his body can continue to process mana. If overtaxed, the systems which allow him to use magic can, basically, short-circuit, resulting in internal bleeding, nerve damage, brain damage, unconsciousness, or death. In terms of skills and strategies, most are focused on anti-personnel suppression, tank hunting, and, in particular, killing the true magi of his world. His body will be short-lived, though, and the pseudo-magecraft he uses is taxing on the body. Few homunculi live past the age of ten. That is, of course, if they don't die a violent death first.
PERSONAL DEFENCE BOUNDARY
Often referred to as a PDB or simply barrier or shield. It is a faintly visible bubble around its user that protects them from harm. Fast moving objects – such as bullets, blades, fists and shrapnel – can be deflected or stopped by the shield, though especially powerful rounds or attacks, or simply a large amount of them, can overwhelm Wolfram-39's ability to maintain the boundary. It also provides protection from the most common vectors of magic, including electricity, fire, concussive blasts, as well as constructs of mana. In close quarters, two PDBs interfere with one another, resulting in their weakening or complete cancellation, making close combat deadly to the magic-users of his world.
MANIFEST ARMAMENT
Though this spell would be very flexible in the hands of a magus, Wolfram-39 can only use two limited variations of it. The first, and most commonly used, is the ability to generate small, blue, translucent and glowing blades, like knives with no handle. These are rapidly created, then fired at targets with a rate of fire and velocity comparable to a heavy machinegun. Next, Wolfram can create a lance in a similar fashion, though the size and amount mana involved requires several seconds of concentration; in exchange the power is extreme. The lance, when fired, easily breaks the sound barrier, and can pierce most any PDB, and, with the correct angle, all but the very thickest of tank armour. Regardless of the form taken, the weapons disintegrate after only a few seconds, though the wounds and damage they cause remain.
KINETIC DRIVER
A simple but effective spell, which allows Wolfram-39 to apply force through his limbs to a connecting surface. This enables him to jump high and far, and to strike with terrible force, as well as lessen the impact of a fall, provided he can land on his feet or hands. It doesn't actually improve his body's capabilities or durability, and even relatively careful use can lead to grievous bodily harm.
[/PTab={background-color:transparent;width:478px;height:612px;padding:0px!important;margin:-23px -3px -3px -3px;}] [PTab= [attr="class","rcapptab2"]BIO ] [attr="class","rcappleft6"] [attr="class","rcappleft61"]
Copied from a modified blueprint of a magus, Wolfram-39 was, as his name implies, the thirty-ninth successful homunculus – an artificial human – created from that template. Like almost every homunculus, Wolfram-39 was created to bolster the ranks of the small and embattled kingdom of Weisstal. The art of creating artificial humans is a closely-guarded state secret, and, despite Weisstal's relatively small size and army, their sheer number of magic users gave them a considerable edge. Created with basic knowledge, and a fundamental understanding of magic and warfare, Wolfram-39 was thrust into battle not long after his creation was finalized. At this point, he was a perfect soldier; obedient, merciless, and unrelenting. Unable to conceive of a life beyond battle.[break][break]
For the next two years, Wolfram-39 fought on the frontlines, as Weisstal's strategic position in a mountain pass made it a desirable position to hold, and its vicegrip on homunculi production technology made conquest more appealing than the shallow alliances Weisstal offered. It was a long and bitter campaign, and most of Wolfram-39's brethren fell to opposing fire and magi. Still, through a combination of quick wit, luck, and underhanded tactics, Wolfram-39 earned himself something of a reputation as a magus-slayer on both sides of the conflict, and was often given informal command of his unit when faced with opposing magi.
WAR DOESN'T CHANGE; IT CHANGES US
It was during this time that Wolfram-39 started to truly learn, and not just rely on the information bored into his skull upon his creation. He met his progenitor – the original Johann Wolfram – who he was both similar to, but distinct from. Friends and comrades he made and lost left their impression on him, and a curiosity grew, along with an existential anger. Just as he wanted to learn more about the world, life, and all that it contained, he had been made with a singular purpose; to destroy. He followed orders still, but gone was the unflinching obedience of a freshly-made homunculus. Plans were questioned. Suggestions were made. Orders he disagreed with were covertly circumvented. If Weisstal were not so desperate for soldiers, especially soldiers who had learned how to kill magi, it was likely he would have been sentenced to destruction. He was defective, though maybe those defects gave him that edge he needed to defeat true magi. That's what they said, anyway; Wolfram-39 began to believe that they were simply afraid that there was more humanity in the homunculi than they originally thought. For a time, this anger was channelled at his enemies, but even that didn't last. He was furious, but with no real target for his anger. His enemies were only so because of politics. The ones thrusting him into battle after battle were also the only reason he was alive in the first place.[break][break]
Despite personal successes and victories, the war went poorly. Losses on both sides were extreme, but Weisstal began losing ground at an accelerating rate as the war dragged into its third long year. Outnumbered and outsupplied, it seemed only inevitable that Weisstal would be forced to surrender, but they still fought on, bitterly. Whether it was out of top brass's pride or a genuine belief that they could win, Wolfram-39 didn't know. What he did know is that he would die if nothing changed. It was a thought that had never provoked fear before, but, as his knowledge of the world, of life, of people had grown, so too had his fear of losing what little he had. His unit being cut off and surrounded was the final breaking point. Wolfram-39 tried, and failed, to convince his commanding officer to surrender. With that, Wolfram-39 left, intending to break through the encirclement on his own, and run as far from the war as he could.[break][break]
Wolfram-39 had had his fill of death.
[attr="class","rcappleft7"]CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY [/PTab={background-color:transparent;width:478px;height:612px;padding:0px!important;margin:-23px -3px -3px -3px;}] [/PTabbedContent={width:478px;background-color:transparent;height:612px;padding:0px!important;border:0px!important;margin-left:0px;margin-top:0px;text-align:justify;color:#494949;font-size:10px;}] | [attr="class","rcappright"]
[attr="class","rcappright21"] [attr="class","rcappright2"] [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-chatbubble-working"] Volf, Three-Nine [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-leaf"] male [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-cube"] he/him [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-android-calendar"] four [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-android-favorite"] heterosexual [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-briefcase"] musician [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-android-pin"] homunculus [attr="class","rcapplist"][attr="class","ion-android-home"] original
[attr="class","rcapprightld"]POSITIVES
[attr="class","rcapprightld2"] adaptable philosophical decisive disciplined articulate realistic cunning [attr="class","rcapprightld"]NEGATIVES
[attr="class","rcapprightld2"] angry fatalistic judgmental argumentative uneducated selfish aimless
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[attr="class","rcappbot"] [attr="class","rcappbotleft"]HO [attr=class","rcappbotleft2"]VER [attr="class","rcappbotright"]
BASCH FON RONSENBURG[break]
FROM FINAL FANTASY 12
PLAYED BY [attr="class","rcappbot2"]
TZADRA
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