He did not give in his completed char.s sheet within the plenty of time alloted.By the way is gid actually rping?
NOOOOOOO!!J, feel free to kill my character, or make him disappear out of existence, or whatever. A lot of shit going on IRL to keep this one going, sorry.
RP-style character sheet:
Actual character sheet:
James Dark stumbled through the alleyway, the red and blue lights creating a blur behind him while the sirens sounded like music to his ears. He begins to hum along to the sounds only he can hear, and trips over his own shoes, collapsing next to the dumpster. As his vision fades to black, only one thing is clear - the grafitti on the side of the dumpster.
He was 18 at the time, and on the verge of graduating (or failing) from Secondary School. The final exams of the year, and his time at secondary school, were beginning the following day. He should have been studying, and he knew it. But rather than cramming in order to obtain a decent grade, James went out with his friends, and decided it was time to party like the world was about to end.
James' friends would hardly be considered by teachers to be good students. Rarely ever gracing the classes with their appearance, and more often than not "losing" their assignments whenever a deadline came around. The prospects for James and his friends weren't bright, but they disregarded that. They thought in the moment, and they enjoyed it. While those who toiled away to get into a good job or a good college sat in class, James attended parties and had fun - something that is severely lacking in this day and age.
His black hair fell down over his foggy blue eyes as he stepped into the club, hands in the pockets of his black sweatshirt that advertised an EDM company. He smiled to his friend Steven as they became absorbed in the loud music and the pounding lights. Time flew by, but the music kept on late into the night. It wasn't that long before the drugs were pulled out either. James pulled the last of his money out of his wallet, and began his intake of the harmful substances. His vision swam before clearing to reveal completely different scenery than before - the pounding lights merged into one singular, steady glow while the music transformed into a singular, displeasurable whine. But James didn't care about the sounds or sights around him. He was focused on the warm feeling he felt growing inside, and he wanted more.
Lacking sufficient funds to purchase more of what he saw as a glorious substance, James used what was left of his cognitive ability to curl his hand into a fist, and swing at the dealer. The last truly real thing he felt that night was the feeling of the dealer's jaw as his fist slammed into it. The movements of the dealer became a slow dance as the dealer brandished a pocket knife. James sissonned backwards as Steven stepped up to assist James, and the dealer and Steven began in a pas de deux. But the duet was short lived. A melancholy echoe rose over the noise, a beautiful sound in James' drugged mind. Red and blue lights filled the hall as the police pulled up outside of the club. The dealer takes advantage of the distraction, and breaks step, lunging forward, sending his knife straight for Steven's gut.
James watches from the side, and can see two possible courses of action. He could either extend his arm and prevent the probably death of Steven, or he could make off with the drugs left on the table behind the dealer. Even in his shattered state of mind, his personality overpowers the choice most would expect him to take.
And so, James stumbles away from the club, narrowly avoiding the police as they storm the club and shut it down. Blood stains his shoe as he clutches the bag of the substance, a demented grin on his face. Stumbling into an alley, he fixes his gaze on a dumpster. Despite all the distractions swimming through his vision, he latches on to one phrase in particular as he collapses next to the dumpster.
"The end is here."
When James awakes the following day, terribly hungover and cast aside in a dumpster, he'll find the world changed. His friends and family dead, society destroyed. Zombies wandering the streets and hounds and vampires out for blood. His only possesions being the clothes he had on him and a small bag of drugs, James will be able to survive two years, until 2045. Two years after the beginning of the end, and two years after he sold his best friend down the river.[/SIZE]
Name: James Dark
Appearance: White male, long dark hair, foggy blue eyes. Constant circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. Long and lanky, but still with great physical ability (most likely due to living in an apocalypse for two years).
Personality: James is definetly not the example of a "perfect" human. He's in it for himself, and if anyone wants to help him, that's great. But if he has to put in any work to help them, especially if it's life threatening, there's a good chance he won't be there tomorrow. He hung out with stoners and got terrible grades, so it's probably obvious that the exposure to various subtances has most likely harmed his ability to think as well as others.
Backstory: James was in his last year at secondary school when the apocalypse hit, and only survived the first wave due to being passed out in an alleyway. He spent the first few months attempting to cheat people out of their money so he could purchase more drugs. But soon the zombies had consumed most everyone, and the vampires almost anyone that was left. James was left on his own, and drugless. The forced cold turkey did end up ridding him of his addiction, but it left him with a new goal. He wanted to survive at all costs.
He proceeded to attempt to find a group of people who he could survive with. He quickly fell into companionship with a group of adults whom he found wandering a supermarket one day. They took him on, and helped to provide him with the things necessary for life. His life became the daily chore of scouting the perimeter for zombies, and he grew tired of it, fast. So one day, instead of patrolling the walls of the complex they lived in, he sat down and watched some videotapes with a couple of the smaller children there. In a very predictable zombie movie plot line, the zombies got through the wall. The people there didn't stand a chance. The zombies bursted into the room he was in, and he left the children as bait as he escaped out the door. His conscience was still clear as he ran into the night, arriving in present day.
Starting weaponry: Crowbar and a knife (I know it's two non-technological, but hey, I'm sacrificing ranged attacks for the crowbar. I like crowbars. Blame Half-Life)
Starting equipment: Map of London, 12 cans of beans, 8 bottles of water, box of tissues, sleeping bag, three ties (as in like those things you wear around your neck), a sponge, and a flashlight. We're going to assume the bag of drugs has been depleted at this point.
Starting apparel: Black sweatshirt, blue t-shirt, black jeans, one regular sneaker, one bloody sneaker.
Misc: just going to roll anything I would put here into starting equipment.
image goes here because otherwise it messes up the spoilers yo
Couple of clarifications:
When are we?
Did these guys start with non-human folks? I mean, obviously it spread to humans, but I'm assuming they came through as like non-humans first.
*kills a zombie*