Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] SIGNUPS OPEN
02-03-2012, 05:11 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Username: Lord Paradise (brainstorming credit to Godbot)
Name: Dr. Trisha Bearonrollerblades, V.D. (and Hippocrates)
Sex: Tee-hee. Uh. Female.
Race: Human (and horse)
Color: I’m digging #802A2A
Description: Pants of any kind have never really been the fashion in the Princessipality of Tiaran, but Trisha, who was never really comfortable with leggings, hides some khaki capris under her ankle-length labcoat-dress. She has a whole wardrobe—a beautiful, hand-carved wardrobe—full of variations on the elegant-veterinarian theme, but the one she’s wearing upon her induction into Deathmatch 9000 is fairly representative of the whole; it’s white with red accents, has buttons in odd places and a slightly lopsided neckline cut to accomodate a convenient breast pocket for the storage of pens. The requisite red cross, tied in a bow to hold the back of the dress together, might suggest the image of a medieval crusader to someone from a world in which history makes any fucking sense, at all.
She also wears a tiara, of course. It is also a head mirror, and if you look closely there are little caducei by the ears.
Physically, you pretty much know the drill: Trisha is an attractive, curvy-within-reason young lady of twenty-four years. She has a bit of a hard look to her that she got from her mother’s side, but mostly passes for a typical Tiaran, or the typical Tiaran’s unattainable ideal of a typical Tiaran. If you look at her hair in the right light, there’s a bit of a blue tint to it, but it doesn’t come out in photos and isn’t often commented upon. On the official documentation her hair color is listed as “brunette.”
You can more or less infer her personality from the “brunette” part, because Tiarans have weird ideas about these things. The darker color of her hair shields her brain from the harmful rays that would otherwise make her less intelligent, more impulsive, and far more desirable to men. Being chemically deprived of the ability to have more than a moderate amount of fun, Trisha derives pleasure in life from her work and the occasional cup of tea with friends. If she experiences a mild amount of disappointment that said friends never invite her to their slumber parties, she at chooses to believe it’s an insult to her character and not to her heritage.
Hippocrates is a perfect shade of chestnut, and otherwise looks perfect, acts perfectly, and is, in fact, perfect.
Weapons/Abilities: It took Trisha a while to figure out how to stash her mother’s Swish! Army Knife in the pocket of her pants without it disturbing the impeccably flattering cut of her dress, but she managed. However, it’s a bit of a process to reach in there and get the thing out, and she tries not to use it while anyone’s looking. She’s handier with it than you’d think.
In the pockets of her labcoat are her real weapons, the tools of the veterinarian’s trade. Aside from the regular pens and bandages and the ever-present jewel-inlaid stethoscope around her neck, she’s carrying five syringes, each filled with specialized DNN (Deoxyrainbow Nucleic Nectar). For those of you who don’t understand the complex art of the veterinary sciences, I’ll explain: any non-sapient animal can be modified by extracting and injecting the DNN of certain traits. The five that Trisha are carrying now are the wings of an eagle, the limb regeneration of a starfish, the lovely shiny lavender shade of some tropical bird or another, the puzzle-solving abilities of an especially well-trained squid, and, for use in terrifying emergencies, the metamorphic powers of a caterpillar. She uses these on her patients or, often, on Hippocrates.
Biography: Trisha was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. After Tiaran won the war and asserted global dominance, the local princess agreed that the whole thing was utterly romantic, Jessie was released and naturalized. Baby Trisha, taking on her mother’s name in the matriarchal tradition, was a full Tiaran citizen from her earliest memories onward.
Though her mother would forever think of herself as an immigrant and never fit in well, staying sane only through the all-conquering power of love, Trisha took to Tiaran like a fish takes to water, staying in the top 10% of her high school class from the ages of 5 to 21 (and winning a spelling bee and two beauty pageants along the way), at which point she was promptly given her veterinary license and opened a small clinic on a farm by a waterfall between two equally majestic mountains. Because there are no such things as alternate realities, she will be just as shocked as anyone to learn that there are Grandmasters who can shuffle her around the universe like a dandelion seed on the wind.
Hippocrates has led a simple but pleasant life in spite of the constant invasive genetic manipulation.
Theme song: FFX--Phantoms
Username: Lord Paradise (brainstorming credit to Godbot)
Name: Dr. Trisha Bearonrollerblades, V.D. (and Hippocrates)
Sex: Tee-hee. Uh. Female.
Race: Human (and horse)
Color: I’m digging #802A2A
Description: Pants of any kind have never really been the fashion in the Princessipality of Tiaran, but Trisha, who was never really comfortable with leggings, hides some khaki capris under her ankle-length labcoat-dress. She has a whole wardrobe—a beautiful, hand-carved wardrobe—full of variations on the elegant-veterinarian theme, but the one she’s wearing upon her induction into Deathmatch 9000 is fairly representative of the whole; it’s white with red accents, has buttons in odd places and a slightly lopsided neckline cut to accomodate a convenient breast pocket for the storage of pens. The requisite red cross, tied in a bow to hold the back of the dress together, might suggest the image of a medieval crusader to someone from a world in which history makes any fucking sense, at all.
She also wears a tiara, of course. It is also a head mirror, and if you look closely there are little caducei by the ears.
Physically, you pretty much know the drill: Trisha is an attractive, curvy-within-reason young lady of twenty-four years. She has a bit of a hard look to her that she got from her mother’s side, but mostly passes for a typical Tiaran, or the typical Tiaran’s unattainable ideal of a typical Tiaran. If you look at her hair in the right light, there’s a bit of a blue tint to it, but it doesn’t come out in photos and isn’t often commented upon. On the official documentation her hair color is listed as “brunette.”
You can more or less infer her personality from the “brunette” part, because Tiarans have weird ideas about these things. The darker color of her hair shields her brain from the harmful rays that would otherwise make her less intelligent, more impulsive, and far more desirable to men. Being chemically deprived of the ability to have more than a moderate amount of fun, Trisha derives pleasure in life from her work and the occasional cup of tea with friends. If she experiences a mild amount of disappointment that said friends never invite her to their slumber parties, she at chooses to believe it’s an insult to her character and not to her heritage.
Hippocrates is a perfect shade of chestnut, and otherwise looks perfect, acts perfectly, and is, in fact, perfect.
Weapons/Abilities: It took Trisha a while to figure out how to stash her mother’s Swish! Army Knife in the pocket of her pants without it disturbing the impeccably flattering cut of her dress, but she managed. However, it’s a bit of a process to reach in there and get the thing out, and she tries not to use it while anyone’s looking. She’s handier with it than you’d think.
In the pockets of her labcoat are her real weapons, the tools of the veterinarian’s trade. Aside from the regular pens and bandages and the ever-present jewel-inlaid stethoscope around her neck, she’s carrying five syringes, each filled with specialized DNN (Deoxyrainbow Nucleic Nectar). For those of you who don’t understand the complex art of the veterinary sciences, I’ll explain: any non-sapient animal can be modified by extracting and injecting the DNN of certain traits. The five that Trisha are carrying now are the wings of an eagle, the limb regeneration of a starfish, the lovely shiny lavender shade of some tropical bird or another, the puzzle-solving abilities of an especially well-trained squid, and, for use in terrifying emergencies, the metamorphic powers of a caterpillar. She uses these on her patients or, often, on Hippocrates.
Biography: Trisha was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. After Tiaran won the war and asserted global dominance, the local princess agreed that the whole thing was utterly romantic, Jessie was released and naturalized. Baby Trisha, taking on her mother’s name in the matriarchal tradition, was a full Tiaran citizen from her earliest memories onward.
Though her mother would forever think of herself as an immigrant and never fit in well, staying sane only through the all-conquering power of love, Trisha took to Tiaran like a fish takes to water, staying in the top 10% of her high school class from the ages of 5 to 21 (and winning a spelling bee and two beauty pageants along the way), at which point she was promptly given her veterinary license and opened a small clinic on a farm by a waterfall between two equally majestic mountains. Because there are no such things as alternate realities, she will be just as shocked as anyone to learn that there are Grandmasters who can shuffle her around the universe like a dandelion seed on the wind.
Hippocrates has led a simple but pleasant life in spite of the constant invasive genetic manipulation.
Theme song: FFX--Phantoms