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Steam Name: Sergeant Captain Viktor Dubstep
Steam ID: STEAM_0:0:12079433
Why do you think you should get this whitelist?: I am a very seasoned and experienced roleplayer, and the role of Nosferatu seems like a challenge that I'm plenty willing to tackle.
How long have you been roleplaying for?: Roughly 8 years or so.
Write the backstory of your character [No minimum or maximum length, use common sense and discretion]: Damien was, once upon a time, a very handsome man. Among those in his small frontier town in the territory of Oklahoma. He was neighborly, friendly, and popular among the patrons of the saloon. He often bought rounds of drinks for his friends, and anyone else who happened to be in proximity. He was the ideal man, fit to marry. He had soon gotten engaged to a sweet girl, and was to marry, when a stranger rolled into town, clad in a face mask, presumably to keep the dust from his face. Naturally, being the hospitable type, he offered him a room to stay for the night. That would be the worst mistake of his entire life. That night, he woke to the sensation of stabbing pain. His eyes shot open to gaze deeply into the glowing red eyes of something that was certainly not human, nor kind, nor reasonable.
Damien pleaded for his life, weakly. The creature was steadily crushing his windpipe, starving him of precious oxygen. He grasped weakly at the creature, then at his nightstand, where his fathers old black powder colt rest. He manages to get a hand on it, winging it across the monsters temple, stunning it long enough for him to worm away from its grasp. He put his back to the wall, leveling the pistol on the beast. It stood to its full height, nearly brushing the ceiling. Damien quivered with fear, his hands tremoring madly. He cocks back the hammer and squeezes the trigger, flinching at the sound of his own gunshot. To his horrid dismay, the creature seemingly moved around the bullet itself. It stepped into his guard and drilled its fist into his gut, sending him crumpling to the floor. His vision tunnels, his mind racked with pain and fear.
The last thing he felt in this life was rows of vicious teeth digging into his throat, before he finally blacks out. What seemed to him to be an eternity of darkness later, he comes to with a snarl, still laying slumped against the wall of his bedroom. He looks around slowly, the smell of blood thick in the air. The monster from before was gone. He weakly pushes himself to his feet and stumbles into his washroom. After lighting a candle, he moves to his water basin to rinse the blood off of him. Looking down into the water to check his reflection, he recoils a bit. There wasn't one. He only saw his ceiling above him. Concerned, he immediately sought out help. In the cover of night, he slipped out of his home and down the street to where his pastor lived. He hammers on the door a few times, rousing the holy man from bed. The elderly priest shuffles his way to the door and opens it, immediately recoiling in fear. He crosses himself and holds his bible up with shaking hands "Spawn of Lucifer! Begone from here!" Damien, horrified, takes a step back. He looks down at his hands once more, realizing they were a sickly shade of grey. The priest calls out once more "Creature of hell! I banish thee!". The shouting rouses a few townspeople from their beds, coming to see what all the commotion was.
After some shouting and pointing welled up from the gathering crowd, Damien realized that he was the center off attention. A few of the men in the town came to the gathering bearing rifles and shotguns. They were all shouting and threatening. His head spun in fear and confusion. He took off suddenly, at surprising speed. Before long, he was at the base of Quartz Mountain, several miles out of town. He took refuge in one of the many caves littering the mountainside.
As time passed, Damien came to grips with the reality of his situation. There was a major route that passed near the cave he hid in. Eventually instinct took over, forcing him to feed on occasional passers-by. Gradually, the shreds of his humanity faded, giving way to the beast within. He became a legend among the nearby communities, a horrible monster that stole people away from their beds in the night. A few times, brazen men from one town or another would set out to slay this beast. Rarely does anyone even return, and never with their sanity intact.
Eventually, days faded into years, which faded into decades. As technology progressed, he saw the need to relocate. The pass he fed from was becoming less and less traveled, and the US Government was driving out the local native tribes, which paid reference to him as being a Wendigo. He made his way west. It was well into the modern age when he made it to the west coast. He settled into the underground of LA, finding plenty of prey among the vagrants and bottom feeders of the cities slums, taking refuge in the extensive sewer systems.
(All RP here is with presumed consent between involved parties for each action taking place)
Give an example of Feeding RP [10 Lines min]:
*The wicked, inhuman vampire crouched atop a dumpster, his bright red eyes gazing across the alleyway, staring deeply into the eyes of the ragged woman pressing herself against the grimy brick wall behind her, as if trying to force herself through it*
*The woman shakes hard, grabbing at her purse. She tosses it across the alleyway at the figure, stammering "H-here. It's all I got. T-take it and go...ple-ease..." She slumps down, tears welling up and causing her thickly applied mascara to run*
*Slowly, the creature lowers itself off of the dumpster, moving agonizingly slow. It crawls on all fours across the slimy alley ground to the woman, now reduced to a blubbering heap of human. He grins wickedly, reaching out with a clawed finger, dragging the tip of the claw across her cheek lightly, causing beads of blood to well up from the shallow cut*
*The woman cries out in fear, sobbing heavily. She looks away, squeezing her eyes shut. A silent prayer is on her lips, pleading for god to save her from this horrific creature*
*The womans prayers fall on deaf ears as the vampire lays his hand across her face, squeezing roughly, digging his nails into her skin. He forces her head aside, exposing her bare neck. Slowly, he drags his tongue across her neck, then digs his teeth into the tender flesh, biting down hard*
*A sudden scream of agony escapes the womans lips, if but for a moment. Her windpipe quickly fills with blood, reducing the scream to a muted gurgle as flecks of blood spray from her lips as she struggles to draw breath.*
*The scent of blood is thick in the air. The ungodly creature drinks deeply of the womans crimson essence, draining her of every drop he can draw, gulping down the thick, coppery fluid, restoring his vigor and filling his mind with fire. The rush of the kill was like nothing else.*
*After just a few moments, the woman feels her eyes roll up in her head. Her vision begins to fade as she feels the cold fingers of death reach out to her. She gurgles out a weak plea once more, feebly grasping at the creature that was so eagerly stealing her lifeblood away*
*Once more, her pleas for mercy fall upon un-listening ears. Once he'd has fill, the vampire releases his prey, letting her broken frame lay limp on the ground. He stretches and hisses in pleasure. The rush of the kill swam in his head, leaving him feeling radiant, almost what one could call...alive*
*The entrance to the alley is suddenly filled by the frame of a man in a black coat. He slowly makes an approach to the creature towering over the bloodied body of a woman*
Give an example of Combat RP [15 lines min]:
*The man slips a steel bat from inside his coat, slowly making his way within arms reach of the creature. Foolishly, he lets out a bellow "Die, goddamn Fable!" And swings the bat in a vicious arc towards the vampires head*
*The monster doesn't even twitch. The bat tings off of the creatures skull with loud reverberation. He feels a wide grin creep across his face as he slowly pivots to face his attacker.*
*The man, suddenly faced with the horrific visage of something that was not Lycan, and clearly something more than a mere Augustine or Dremor. He takes a step back and bares the bat threateningly "You b-bastard. You killed that woman! I'll kill you, Freak!" He swings the bat once more, aiming for the vampires midsection*
*Damien maintains the same sickening grin as the bat impacts his hip, the sound of fracturing bone echoing across the alley. His grin wavers a bit as he takes a step back, taking the weight off of that leg to let it heal.*
*The young and foolish hunter reaches into his coat and snatches the compact handgun from its holster, leveling it on the vampire with quivering hands. "Y-you deserve to die..God w-wills it!"*
*That line elicited a grim from the vampire once more. He utters with a low hiss "Your god felt no compassion for my prey. Why should he treat you different" As he spoke, he took slow steps forwards, until the barrel of the pistol was against his chest*
*The hunter bares his teeth and cocks the hammer back as the vampire approached him. He looked up at the towering creature, making the mistake of looking directly into its eyes. He rapidly felt his nerves begin to slip. His hands shook harder, tears welled up in his eyes. The thought of his family and loved ones flooded his mind. His gun arm slowly drooped*
*At that moment, Damien swept the boys arm aside. He swatted the boy away, sending him flying out of the alley into the empty street. He takes slow, deliberate steps to follow him, walking into the moonlight. At that instant, he stumbles as a pair of rifle rounds connect with his side.*
*The boys partner keeps his rifle leveled at the vampire, a snarl on his lips. He takes a step forwards "Get away from him, you son of a bitch!" He lets two more rounds rip from the rifle*
*Damien snarls as one of the rounds burns its way through his thigh. He crouches down and lunges towards the hunter, teeth bared.*
*The older, more experienced hunter dives to the side, narrowly avoiding the lunge. He draws his combat knife and holds it with a tight grip, crouching low in a fighting stance "Come and get it, you ugly fucker!" He could only hope that his diversion would give his apprentice time to get his wits back and escape*
*With a snarl, Damien dives for the man once more, claws poised to strike*
*The hunter rolls backwards with the pounce, driving his knife deep into the vampires side, just inches shy of the heart*
*The twisted beast howls loudly as it tumbles through the rest of the dive, landing on its back. He writhes in pain and snatches the knife from its side, tossing it away. The wound burned like fire, sending daggers of agony through his body.*
*The boy slowly comes to, sitting up with a groan. He stumbles to his feet and takes a few steps away, barely able to stay upright. The sound of fighting was distant sounding, his vision blurry.*
*The old hunter slowly picks himself up and draws his revolver, cocking the hammer back, leveling it on the vampire, who was rapidly recovering*
*Damien rolls himself over and pushes off hard, leaping onto a fire escape. This meal wasn't worth the trouble...this time..*
*The old hunter exhales as the vampire seems to retreat. After a few extra moments, he hobbles off to go retrieve his protege*
Give an example of Passive RP [15 lines min]:
*Damien pulls his robes tight around him. Deep inside, there was a part of him that remains disgusted at what he had become. He ascended to the streets via a secluded manhole, leading to an alley in skid row, where he harvested most of his prey. Already, local folklore had began to form about him. A bogeyman, made to scare children into not staying out at night. What they knew not, however, was this bogeyman did in fact go bump in the night.*
*He stalks, hunched over, through the alley into the dark, poorly lit street. He walked slowly through the street, as if time itself was grinding to a halt, eyes gazing through his black tinted glasses, a faint crimson glow emanating from behind the lenses*
*People tended to avoid the slouched figure as he drifted through the street. He rank of sewage and death. None dared to stray more than a dozen feet towards him, and only that close if there was no other choice.*
*The robed vampire, shrouded in the shadows of night, watched as the scarce individual drift by. He spent at least one night out of the month like this. He chose the location carefully, as well as the time. Those who hunted the likes of him were safe in their homes.*
*Carefully, he observed the habits of those around him. For an hour, he stood, wreathed in shadow, out of sight. After his self-allotted time was up, he drifted from his hiding spot, prowling off to seek out his next meal, the creeping hunger of blood becoming too much to bear*
*He grins to himself at the sight of a nearby couple ducking into a nearby doorway to avoid occupying the same street as him. They were too exposed. Too easy to rescue...*
*As he walks, his ears pick up on the sound of a woman talking, but to seemingly nobody. He feels his grin widen, if it were even seemingly possible.*
*Rounding a corner, he digs one of his claws into the brick wall, carving out a line from the masonry, sending a sickening screeching noise echoing down the alleyway, accompanying it with a subtle fear-inducing aura.*
*The woman in the alleyway shudders from the sound and drops her phone, the battery popping from its case. She takes a few steps back, heels clacking against the cobble floor of the alley. She was alone, and scared, and poorly dressed for the occasion. A street walker, if nothing else*
*Damien taps a claw against the brick as he walks, a clicking growl rising from his throat. This woman would be his meal for tonight. Of that, he was sure*
*Foolishly, the woman tries to run. She takes half a dozen steps and rolls her ankle on a misshapen cobblestone. She collapses to the filthy ground, scrambling madly to get back on her feet*
*The vampire watches in morbid amusement as the woman struggles so very hard to escape her impending doom. How quaint, the hope of humans*
*The woman manages to kick off her heels and scramble to her feet. She backs against the wall, shaking madly like a leaf in the wind*
*Damien slowly crawls his way onto the dumpster, crouching on it and slipping his glasses from his face, revealing those luciferian, firey red orbs, glowing in his eye sockets, gazing into her very soul*
*The woman feels her lips quiver as she tries to summon up her ability to speak. Pitifully, she manages to croak out a single plea, grabbing at her purse. She tosses it across the alleyway at the figure, stammering "H-here. It's all I got. T-take it and go...ple-ease..." She slumps down, tears welling up and causing her thickly applied mascara to run*
Steam ID: STEAM_0:0:12079433
Why do you think you should get this whitelist?: I am a very seasoned and experienced roleplayer, and the role of Nosferatu seems like a challenge that I'm plenty willing to tackle.
How long have you been roleplaying for?: Roughly 8 years or so.
Write the backstory of your character [No minimum or maximum length, use common sense and discretion]: Damien was, once upon a time, a very handsome man. Among those in his small frontier town in the territory of Oklahoma. He was neighborly, friendly, and popular among the patrons of the saloon. He often bought rounds of drinks for his friends, and anyone else who happened to be in proximity. He was the ideal man, fit to marry. He had soon gotten engaged to a sweet girl, and was to marry, when a stranger rolled into town, clad in a face mask, presumably to keep the dust from his face. Naturally, being the hospitable type, he offered him a room to stay for the night. That would be the worst mistake of his entire life. That night, he woke to the sensation of stabbing pain. His eyes shot open to gaze deeply into the glowing red eyes of something that was certainly not human, nor kind, nor reasonable.
Damien pleaded for his life, weakly. The creature was steadily crushing his windpipe, starving him of precious oxygen. He grasped weakly at the creature, then at his nightstand, where his fathers old black powder colt rest. He manages to get a hand on it, winging it across the monsters temple, stunning it long enough for him to worm away from its grasp. He put his back to the wall, leveling the pistol on the beast. It stood to its full height, nearly brushing the ceiling. Damien quivered with fear, his hands tremoring madly. He cocks back the hammer and squeezes the trigger, flinching at the sound of his own gunshot. To his horrid dismay, the creature seemingly moved around the bullet itself. It stepped into his guard and drilled its fist into his gut, sending him crumpling to the floor. His vision tunnels, his mind racked with pain and fear.
The last thing he felt in this life was rows of vicious teeth digging into his throat, before he finally blacks out. What seemed to him to be an eternity of darkness later, he comes to with a snarl, still laying slumped against the wall of his bedroom. He looks around slowly, the smell of blood thick in the air. The monster from before was gone. He weakly pushes himself to his feet and stumbles into his washroom. After lighting a candle, he moves to his water basin to rinse the blood off of him. Looking down into the water to check his reflection, he recoils a bit. There wasn't one. He only saw his ceiling above him. Concerned, he immediately sought out help. In the cover of night, he slipped out of his home and down the street to where his pastor lived. He hammers on the door a few times, rousing the holy man from bed. The elderly priest shuffles his way to the door and opens it, immediately recoiling in fear. He crosses himself and holds his bible up with shaking hands "Spawn of Lucifer! Begone from here!" Damien, horrified, takes a step back. He looks down at his hands once more, realizing they were a sickly shade of grey. The priest calls out once more "Creature of hell! I banish thee!". The shouting rouses a few townspeople from their beds, coming to see what all the commotion was.
After some shouting and pointing welled up from the gathering crowd, Damien realized that he was the center off attention. A few of the men in the town came to the gathering bearing rifles and shotguns. They were all shouting and threatening. His head spun in fear and confusion. He took off suddenly, at surprising speed. Before long, he was at the base of Quartz Mountain, several miles out of town. He took refuge in one of the many caves littering the mountainside.
As time passed, Damien came to grips with the reality of his situation. There was a major route that passed near the cave he hid in. Eventually instinct took over, forcing him to feed on occasional passers-by. Gradually, the shreds of his humanity faded, giving way to the beast within. He became a legend among the nearby communities, a horrible monster that stole people away from their beds in the night. A few times, brazen men from one town or another would set out to slay this beast. Rarely does anyone even return, and never with their sanity intact.
Eventually, days faded into years, which faded into decades. As technology progressed, he saw the need to relocate. The pass he fed from was becoming less and less traveled, and the US Government was driving out the local native tribes, which paid reference to him as being a Wendigo. He made his way west. It was well into the modern age when he made it to the west coast. He settled into the underground of LA, finding plenty of prey among the vagrants and bottom feeders of the cities slums, taking refuge in the extensive sewer systems.
(All RP here is with presumed consent between involved parties for each action taking place)
Give an example of Feeding RP [10 Lines min]:
*The wicked, inhuman vampire crouched atop a dumpster, his bright red eyes gazing across the alleyway, staring deeply into the eyes of the ragged woman pressing herself against the grimy brick wall behind her, as if trying to force herself through it*
*The woman shakes hard, grabbing at her purse. She tosses it across the alleyway at the figure, stammering "H-here. It's all I got. T-take it and go...ple-ease..." She slumps down, tears welling up and causing her thickly applied mascara to run*
*Slowly, the creature lowers itself off of the dumpster, moving agonizingly slow. It crawls on all fours across the slimy alley ground to the woman, now reduced to a blubbering heap of human. He grins wickedly, reaching out with a clawed finger, dragging the tip of the claw across her cheek lightly, causing beads of blood to well up from the shallow cut*
*The woman cries out in fear, sobbing heavily. She looks away, squeezing her eyes shut. A silent prayer is on her lips, pleading for god to save her from this horrific creature*
*The womans prayers fall on deaf ears as the vampire lays his hand across her face, squeezing roughly, digging his nails into her skin. He forces her head aside, exposing her bare neck. Slowly, he drags his tongue across her neck, then digs his teeth into the tender flesh, biting down hard*
*A sudden scream of agony escapes the womans lips, if but for a moment. Her windpipe quickly fills with blood, reducing the scream to a muted gurgle as flecks of blood spray from her lips as she struggles to draw breath.*
*The scent of blood is thick in the air. The ungodly creature drinks deeply of the womans crimson essence, draining her of every drop he can draw, gulping down the thick, coppery fluid, restoring his vigor and filling his mind with fire. The rush of the kill was like nothing else.*
*After just a few moments, the woman feels her eyes roll up in her head. Her vision begins to fade as she feels the cold fingers of death reach out to her. She gurgles out a weak plea once more, feebly grasping at the creature that was so eagerly stealing her lifeblood away*
*Once more, her pleas for mercy fall upon un-listening ears. Once he'd has fill, the vampire releases his prey, letting her broken frame lay limp on the ground. He stretches and hisses in pleasure. The rush of the kill swam in his head, leaving him feeling radiant, almost what one could call...alive*
*The entrance to the alley is suddenly filled by the frame of a man in a black coat. He slowly makes an approach to the creature towering over the bloodied body of a woman*
Give an example of Combat RP [15 lines min]:
*The man slips a steel bat from inside his coat, slowly making his way within arms reach of the creature. Foolishly, he lets out a bellow "Die, goddamn Fable!" And swings the bat in a vicious arc towards the vampires head*
*The monster doesn't even twitch. The bat tings off of the creatures skull with loud reverberation. He feels a wide grin creep across his face as he slowly pivots to face his attacker.*
*The man, suddenly faced with the horrific visage of something that was not Lycan, and clearly something more than a mere Augustine or Dremor. He takes a step back and bares the bat threateningly "You b-bastard. You killed that woman! I'll kill you, Freak!" He swings the bat once more, aiming for the vampires midsection*
*Damien maintains the same sickening grin as the bat impacts his hip, the sound of fracturing bone echoing across the alley. His grin wavers a bit as he takes a step back, taking the weight off of that leg to let it heal.*
*The young and foolish hunter reaches into his coat and snatches the compact handgun from its holster, leveling it on the vampire with quivering hands. "Y-you deserve to die..God w-wills it!"*
*That line elicited a grim from the vampire once more. He utters with a low hiss "Your god felt no compassion for my prey. Why should he treat you different" As he spoke, he took slow steps forwards, until the barrel of the pistol was against his chest*
*The hunter bares his teeth and cocks the hammer back as the vampire approached him. He looked up at the towering creature, making the mistake of looking directly into its eyes. He rapidly felt his nerves begin to slip. His hands shook harder, tears welled up in his eyes. The thought of his family and loved ones flooded his mind. His gun arm slowly drooped*
*At that moment, Damien swept the boys arm aside. He swatted the boy away, sending him flying out of the alley into the empty street. He takes slow, deliberate steps to follow him, walking into the moonlight. At that instant, he stumbles as a pair of rifle rounds connect with his side.*
*The boys partner keeps his rifle leveled at the vampire, a snarl on his lips. He takes a step forwards "Get away from him, you son of a bitch!" He lets two more rounds rip from the rifle*
*Damien snarls as one of the rounds burns its way through his thigh. He crouches down and lunges towards the hunter, teeth bared.*
*The older, more experienced hunter dives to the side, narrowly avoiding the lunge. He draws his combat knife and holds it with a tight grip, crouching low in a fighting stance "Come and get it, you ugly fucker!" He could only hope that his diversion would give his apprentice time to get his wits back and escape*
*With a snarl, Damien dives for the man once more, claws poised to strike*
*The hunter rolls backwards with the pounce, driving his knife deep into the vampires side, just inches shy of the heart*
*The twisted beast howls loudly as it tumbles through the rest of the dive, landing on its back. He writhes in pain and snatches the knife from its side, tossing it away. The wound burned like fire, sending daggers of agony through his body.*
*The boy slowly comes to, sitting up with a groan. He stumbles to his feet and takes a few steps away, barely able to stay upright. The sound of fighting was distant sounding, his vision blurry.*
*The old hunter slowly picks himself up and draws his revolver, cocking the hammer back, leveling it on the vampire, who was rapidly recovering*
*Damien rolls himself over and pushes off hard, leaping onto a fire escape. This meal wasn't worth the trouble...this time..*
*The old hunter exhales as the vampire seems to retreat. After a few extra moments, he hobbles off to go retrieve his protege*
Give an example of Passive RP [15 lines min]:
*Damien pulls his robes tight around him. Deep inside, there was a part of him that remains disgusted at what he had become. He ascended to the streets via a secluded manhole, leading to an alley in skid row, where he harvested most of his prey. Already, local folklore had began to form about him. A bogeyman, made to scare children into not staying out at night. What they knew not, however, was this bogeyman did in fact go bump in the night.*
*He stalks, hunched over, through the alley into the dark, poorly lit street. He walked slowly through the street, as if time itself was grinding to a halt, eyes gazing through his black tinted glasses, a faint crimson glow emanating from behind the lenses*
*People tended to avoid the slouched figure as he drifted through the street. He rank of sewage and death. None dared to stray more than a dozen feet towards him, and only that close if there was no other choice.*
*The robed vampire, shrouded in the shadows of night, watched as the scarce individual drift by. He spent at least one night out of the month like this. He chose the location carefully, as well as the time. Those who hunted the likes of him were safe in their homes.*
*Carefully, he observed the habits of those around him. For an hour, he stood, wreathed in shadow, out of sight. After his self-allotted time was up, he drifted from his hiding spot, prowling off to seek out his next meal, the creeping hunger of blood becoming too much to bear*
*He grins to himself at the sight of a nearby couple ducking into a nearby doorway to avoid occupying the same street as him. They were too exposed. Too easy to rescue...*
*As he walks, his ears pick up on the sound of a woman talking, but to seemingly nobody. He feels his grin widen, if it were even seemingly possible.*
*Rounding a corner, he digs one of his claws into the brick wall, carving out a line from the masonry, sending a sickening screeching noise echoing down the alleyway, accompanying it with a subtle fear-inducing aura.*
*The woman in the alleyway shudders from the sound and drops her phone, the battery popping from its case. She takes a few steps back, heels clacking against the cobble floor of the alley. She was alone, and scared, and poorly dressed for the occasion. A street walker, if nothing else*
*Damien taps a claw against the brick as he walks, a clicking growl rising from his throat. This woman would be his meal for tonight. Of that, he was sure*
*Foolishly, the woman tries to run. She takes half a dozen steps and rolls her ankle on a misshapen cobblestone. She collapses to the filthy ground, scrambling madly to get back on her feet*
*The vampire watches in morbid amusement as the woman struggles so very hard to escape her impending doom. How quaint, the hope of humans*
*The woman manages to kick off her heels and scramble to her feet. She backs against the wall, shaking madly like a leaf in the wind*
*Damien slowly crawls his way onto the dumpster, crouching on it and slipping his glasses from his face, revealing those luciferian, firey red orbs, glowing in his eye sockets, gazing into her very soul*
*The woman feels her lips quiver as she tries to summon up her ability to speak. Pitifully, she manages to croak out a single plea, grabbing at her purse. She tosses it across the alleyway at the figure, stammering "H-here. It's all I got. T-take it and go...ple-ease..." She slumps down, tears welling up and causing her thickly applied mascara to run*
Last edited by Viktor Denisov on Fri Sep 05, 2014 7:06 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Expanded passive section)
