Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Signups Open~]
04-24-2012, 06:26 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Godbot.
Username: Godbot
Name: The Indomitable Pat Pastrykisses
Gender: Everyone knows women can’t drive
Race: Human, allegedly – though it wouldn’t be surprising if she’s got a car engine for a heart or something.
Color: STRONG FEMALE CHARACTERS (#00C4FF)
Description: If by “wardrobe” you mean “locker,” then Pat still isn’t really big on the whole “wardrobe” thing. She’s just wearing her usual mechanic’s uniform, which has been kept rolled down to her waist frequently enough that the tank top she wears under it is significantly oilstained no matter how much she washes it, which is for girls. The tank top has a little nametag pinned to it that says “Hello, my name is ‘fuck off’.”
Her hair is an incredibly rare shade of strawberry blonde that looks exactly like it’s blue, and she’s gone all out on keeping it out of her eyes; it’s been cut short, the rest has been pulled into a spikey little tuft of a ponytail, and she has a bandana tied over her head to drive back any remaining loose strands. She wears a pair of needlessly high-tech goggles that never seem to leave her forehead, with a seemingly inexhaustible pack of that gum she’s always chewing shoved into the strap. Like basically everyone in Jetpaxia, she has a neat little X-shaped scar below one eye from her climactic battle with her rival. She also has a tattoo of Mecha Godzilla decking a tiger made of fire in the face on her back.
She wears a strap with a pouch on it over one bicep, and she keeps bandages wrapped around her elbows to keep them clean of grease. Despite refusing to wear her uniform for dexterity’s sake, she still wears a pair of heavy leather gloves adorned with metal plates and leather straps that definitely don’t need to be there. The part of her uniform that she actually bothers to wear has an arsenal of pockets, but mostly it possesses the incredible power of staying up under the weight of an excessive number of tool belts loaded up with futuristic power tools. She clinks and rattles distractingly no matter how she walks – an ability unexplained by modern science – but she never seems to notice all the noise. The pants are stuffed into a pair of enormous steel-toed robotic-looking work cleats covered in buckles that go all the way up to her knees and end in metal kneepads. Ostensibly, like all the other Patricias, she’s got a pleasantly curvy figure somewhere under there, but we’ll never know for sure.
And yet somehow, underneath enough badass to launch a thousand bulldozers and enough power tools to build you an even better metal detector out of what’s left of the one she just walked past, Pat still has a closely-guarded weakness for animals – not necessarily the small and fluffy variety, except yes, the small and fluffy variety.
Image by The At-Least-As-Indomitable Pharmacy:
![[Image: pastrykisses.png]](https://img845.imageshack.us/img845/2788/pastrykisses.png)
Items/Abilities: Pat is the best damn mechanic in Jetpaxia, which doesn’t sound like a whole lot – until you realize that everyone in Jetpaxia has a racecar, a motorcycle, a spaceship, a giant robot, or some combination thereof. She’s been fixing vehicles since she was allegedly a little girl at some point, but during all the intense and utterly ridiculous training that followed, she got away from the garage to learn firsthand how to drive basically every vehicle ever, if only so that she’d know more about how they should handle than just vague hand gestures and ham-fisted analogues from ham-fisted space bikers.
In addition to being a superhuman mechanic, Pat can make a vehicle out of basically anything (up to and including other vehicles), she can pilot any vehicle proficiently, and given the opportunity to give it a tune-up, she can pilot any vehicle acrobatically. Give her enough time with it, and she can make your jetski drive up walls.
Besides having a basically infinite supply of reliable futuristic power tools, most notably her trusty boltgun, which is essentially just a nailgun but with bolts, Pat wields the allegendary Überwrensch, a fully automated adjustable wrench with a ridiculous amount of moving parts and no evident power source. It automatically adjusts the shape, size and angle of its jaws to solidly clamp onto just about anything – and if you flick it just right, you can trick it into compacting into a pretty good mace. Its handle is wrapped in caution tape, but that’s just probably just the grip.
Biography: As usual, Pat was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack Jetpaxian dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. Nothing new here. Anyway, when a surprise attack on the capital of Jetpaxia that might have otherwise won the war for the Tiarans fell flat – every single group of Tiarans ran into confused battalions of Jetpaxian dinosoldiers whose conflicting orders had sent them out into the middle of nowhere that very same day – both sides quickly turned defensive and refused to speak to each other, and the war became stagnant except for a handful of ongoing zero-sum battles along the border.
Unforunately for Pat, this meant that she and her mother and father stayed right where they were in that Tiaran P.O.W. camp for a few years longer than they might have, until a band of Jetpaxian prisoners broke out and fled across no (wo)man’s land, Pat and her mother Jessie included. Fredward had to stay behind, understandably, and that was the last they saw of him.
The refugees lived out their next few years in a Jetpaxian border village out in the middle of nowhere, namely because there was plenty of room for high-speed car chases and high noon gunfights. Soldiers, dinosaurs, and war machines constantly shambled through the little village on the way to the warfront for food, lodging and repairs. By this point, Pat was old enough that it was thematically appropriate for her to be a child prodigy, and so Jessie taught her how to dismantle the essential parts of a car and clean them out while spouting technobabble that nobody including her understood. There wasn’t a whole lot else to do, and so Pat got pretty good at it.
Anyway, the war ended when Jetpaxia attacked Tiaran from space. Oh well!
Now, just as a brief aside – in Jetpaxia, school exists entirely so that you can be too cool to go to it. Instead, children are assigned rivals with the same age and an edgier backstory, and they spend the next several years training fiercely to become better than each other. There’s plenty of room for interpretation as to what makes you better than your rival, but chances are good that it has to do with claiming a legendary sword, finding a wizened old guru in the middle of the desert or in space or something, and a whole lot of cool training montages. By the end of the first season, you have to have a climactic battle with your rival, and one or both of you ends up with a cool scar.
Anyway, since Pat grew up fixing cars and tanks on the warfront, she came into the Jetpaxian rivalry game pretty late, and her rival had already achieved Power Level 3½ and carved his name into a mountain range with lasers. This left poor Pat Pastrykisses with little choice.
In the name of needless competition, she had to become the best mechanic ever.
Now, in a world where everyone became The Best Ever at something ridiculously awesome like shark herding, dinorobotics or zero-gravity nunchucks, Pat Pastrykisses is an ordinary mechanic.
After all, someone has to service all those racecars, spaceships and giant robots.
Username: Godbot
Name: The Indomitable Pat Pastrykisses
Gender: Everyone knows women can’t drive
Race: Human, allegedly – though it wouldn’t be surprising if she’s got a car engine for a heart or something.
Color: STRONG FEMALE CHARACTERS (#00C4FF)
Description: If by “wardrobe” you mean “locker,” then Pat still isn’t really big on the whole “wardrobe” thing. She’s just wearing her usual mechanic’s uniform, which has been kept rolled down to her waist frequently enough that the tank top she wears under it is significantly oilstained no matter how much she washes it, which is for girls. The tank top has a little nametag pinned to it that says “Hello, my name is ‘fuck off’.”
Her hair is an incredibly rare shade of strawberry blonde that looks exactly like it’s blue, and she’s gone all out on keeping it out of her eyes; it’s been cut short, the rest has been pulled into a spikey little tuft of a ponytail, and she has a bandana tied over her head to drive back any remaining loose strands. She wears a pair of needlessly high-tech goggles that never seem to leave her forehead, with a seemingly inexhaustible pack of that gum she’s always chewing shoved into the strap. Like basically everyone in Jetpaxia, she has a neat little X-shaped scar below one eye from her climactic battle with her rival. She also has a tattoo of Mecha Godzilla decking a tiger made of fire in the face on her back.
She wears a strap with a pouch on it over one bicep, and she keeps bandages wrapped around her elbows to keep them clean of grease. Despite refusing to wear her uniform for dexterity’s sake, she still wears a pair of heavy leather gloves adorned with metal plates and leather straps that definitely don’t need to be there. The part of her uniform that she actually bothers to wear has an arsenal of pockets, but mostly it possesses the incredible power of staying up under the weight of an excessive number of tool belts loaded up with futuristic power tools. She clinks and rattles distractingly no matter how she walks – an ability unexplained by modern science – but she never seems to notice all the noise. The pants are stuffed into a pair of enormous steel-toed robotic-looking work cleats covered in buckles that go all the way up to her knees and end in metal kneepads. Ostensibly, like all the other Patricias, she’s got a pleasantly curvy figure somewhere under there, but we’ll never know for sure.
And yet somehow, underneath enough badass to launch a thousand bulldozers and enough power tools to build you an even better metal detector out of what’s left of the one she just walked past, Pat still has a closely-guarded weakness for animals – not necessarily the small and fluffy variety, except yes, the small and fluffy variety.
Image by The At-Least-As-Indomitable Pharmacy:
Items/Abilities: Pat is the best damn mechanic in Jetpaxia, which doesn’t sound like a whole lot – until you realize that everyone in Jetpaxia has a racecar, a motorcycle, a spaceship, a giant robot, or some combination thereof. She’s been fixing vehicles since she was allegedly a little girl at some point, but during all the intense and utterly ridiculous training that followed, she got away from the garage to learn firsthand how to drive basically every vehicle ever, if only so that she’d know more about how they should handle than just vague hand gestures and ham-fisted analogues from ham-fisted space bikers.
In addition to being a superhuman mechanic, Pat can make a vehicle out of basically anything (up to and including other vehicles), she can pilot any vehicle proficiently, and given the opportunity to give it a tune-up, she can pilot any vehicle acrobatically. Give her enough time with it, and she can make your jetski drive up walls.
Besides having a basically infinite supply of reliable futuristic power tools, most notably her trusty boltgun, which is essentially just a nailgun but with bolts, Pat wields the allegendary Überwrensch, a fully automated adjustable wrench with a ridiculous amount of moving parts and no evident power source. It automatically adjusts the shape, size and angle of its jaws to solidly clamp onto just about anything – and if you flick it just right, you can trick it into compacting into a pretty good mace. Its handle is wrapped in caution tape, but that’s just probably just the grip.
Biography: As usual, Pat was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack Jetpaxian dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. Nothing new here. Anyway, when a surprise attack on the capital of Jetpaxia that might have otherwise won the war for the Tiarans fell flat – every single group of Tiarans ran into confused battalions of Jetpaxian dinosoldiers whose conflicting orders had sent them out into the middle of nowhere that very same day – both sides quickly turned defensive and refused to speak to each other, and the war became stagnant except for a handful of ongoing zero-sum battles along the border.
Unforunately for Pat, this meant that she and her mother and father stayed right where they were in that Tiaran P.O.W. camp for a few years longer than they might have, until a band of Jetpaxian prisoners broke out and fled across no (wo)man’s land, Pat and her mother Jessie included. Fredward had to stay behind, understandably, and that was the last they saw of him.
The refugees lived out their next few years in a Jetpaxian border village out in the middle of nowhere, namely because there was plenty of room for high-speed car chases and high noon gunfights. Soldiers, dinosaurs, and war machines constantly shambled through the little village on the way to the warfront for food, lodging and repairs. By this point, Pat was old enough that it was thematically appropriate for her to be a child prodigy, and so Jessie taught her how to dismantle the essential parts of a car and clean them out while spouting technobabble that nobody including her understood. There wasn’t a whole lot else to do, and so Pat got pretty good at it.
Anyway, the war ended when Jetpaxia attacked Tiaran from space. Oh well!
Now, just as a brief aside – in Jetpaxia, school exists entirely so that you can be too cool to go to it. Instead, children are assigned rivals with the same age and an edgier backstory, and they spend the next several years training fiercely to become better than each other. There’s plenty of room for interpretation as to what makes you better than your rival, but chances are good that it has to do with claiming a legendary sword, finding a wizened old guru in the middle of the desert or in space or something, and a whole lot of cool training montages. By the end of the first season, you have to have a climactic battle with your rival, and one or both of you ends up with a cool scar.
Anyway, since Pat grew up fixing cars and tanks on the warfront, she came into the Jetpaxian rivalry game pretty late, and her rival had already achieved Power Level 3½ and carved his name into a mountain range with lasers. This left poor Pat Pastrykisses with little choice.
In the name of needless competition, she had to become the best mechanic ever.
Now, in a world where everyone became The Best Ever at something ridiculously awesome like shark herding, dinorobotics or zero-gravity nunchucks, Pat Pastrykisses is an ordinary mechanic.
After all, someone has to service all those racecars, spaceships and giant robots.