Midi Playing: Heroes
***Character Established*** Codename: Cyclops Real Name: Scott Summers Nicknames: Shades, Mr. Military, Cyke, Goggle-boy Place of Origin: {the state or country they are from} Uh . . . somewhere. Template: {Brotherhood, X-Men, loner, student, lacky, etc.} Probably the X-men, doncha think? Age: 18 Gender: Male Height: 6' or so Weight: 150lbs Scott: Hey, you're giving me the same weight as Lance! Olhado(interviewer doing the bio): Okay then, let's try 180lbs - to cover that excess muscle stuff. Eyes: Look, I, Scott, am taking over. I don't think this Olhado person knows enough about me to even attempt a "form." Anyway, eyes. I can't remember. Next time Magneto lures me into some uglifying machine, I'll be sure to look in a mirror and tell you. Hair: Brown. A simple, unadorned brown. Not dirty brown, just brown. It's in that hair style in which the neck and lower head cut is closer to the skin than the top of the head, which is cut longer, with bang like protrusions in the forehead. What do you expect? It would have been much simpler if you just asked me for a picture! Other distinguishing physical features: If I have any, I'm not going to tell you. Not after that degrading "Hair" thing. Clothes: Conservative, especially in blues, browns, greys and dark reds. And yes, I do have these all too well known red sunglasses. They're really not that funny. Stop gawking or laughing or what have you. Known Relatives: {Parents, cousins, brothers, sisters, etc. Adopted families CAN count but are not manditory.} I have this highly annoying younger brother called Alex Summers. Oh, I love him and the like, he IS my brother. But such a priority set! Surfing? Talking with this contrived "duuuuuuude" accent? I suppose some part of me expected someone a little more reserved and mature like . . . I won't mention names. Powers/Mutations: One rather obvious one. These "optic blasts" that spurt uncontrollably out of my eyes if I don't have those red shades you believe are so hilarious. They are force blasts, not heat blasts. Not that it matters much. They're still powerful enough to kill any joker who pulls of my glasses for the fun of it. Comprende? History: My parents, my brother, and I were merrily flying through a thunderstorm when, as one might expect, the plane was struck by lightning. My parents handed Alex and I what appeared to be the only parachutes and we, well, parachuted out of the plane. Of course, being the extremely lucky guy I am, my parachute caught fire and I hit the ground a little hard, suffering brain damage. Which is why I can't control these blasted blasted optic blasts . . . er. . . sorry. Supposedly I was the only survivor of the plane crash, but Alex landed in a mystical inlet on the beaches of Hawaii and absorbed the effects of the Glowing Surfer Stone into his body. Olhado: Ahem! Scott: Sorry. My mother most definitely did not survive the crash, but my father somehow did and became this overly muscled space guy known as the Corsair. Olhado: What? You're not supposed to know that! Scott: Eh heh, I'll try again. Then this guy called Cable apparently survived the plane crash, because. . . Olhado: NO, NO! Skip the history! Although I can't fathom why you just didn't fill up the "relation" section with this junk . . . Scott: We can always go back . . . Olhado: Ach! Just go on to the personality. Personality: I'll grant you this. I am a little "stiff." But it IS for good reason. Sheesh, we can't all be jokers all the time, or nothing would ever get done. If SOMEONE doesn't have the courage to risk looking less than "spontaneous" and "loose" all the time, all those spontaneous, loose people would laugh up the world, sure, but in the meantime, that happy world would be consumed in an apocylapse! Uh, hold on. I think I have the wrong speech here . . . Anyway, my point is that someone has to have a serious view of things, because some things need very much to be taken seriously. It's all right to have "whistling in the dark" characters like Kurt. They ease tension, sure. But someone needs to be there to direct, to take on the brunt of the fear and the blame, to watch over the team as a whole, to be the front line and the general rolled into one. I am that someone. It's a difficult, harrowing role, and I can't help but be controlling at times. I worry so much about my team . . . I can't help but worry. That aside, I DO have a sense of humor. I just don't get much of a chance to use it. In battle, I'm too interested in the status and objectives of my team to say something clever. Sorry if my "battle sayings" are cliched. Would you rather I put all my effort into being funny, rather than into winning and keeping my people safe? Come on! Favorite music and pastime: Music is best when it's somewhat soothing. My nerves are frazzled enough at best to have to deal with heavy beats and "shocking" lyrics. And no, I'm not talking New Age or other hippie junk. Just somewhere-in-the-middle kind of music. I like watching movies and training. Yes, I actually like it. It's important enough to me that I make myself like it. That doesn't mean I don't like a good drive or the occasional time where I can just sit and do nothing . . . nothing except think, that is. Quirks, limitations, abilities, and other weird stuff: I generally do keep to a half smile rather than a full one. I have this fondness for women with red hair and for clones of Jean . . . Olhado: Oh, PLEASE behave yourself! Scott: Sigh. Well, I think I've talked enough about my "quirks" already. I think I'm done. Player does an exceptional job handling a difficult character to play. ~~V~~ Back Next Character
***Character Established***
Codename: Cyclops
Real Name: Scott Summers
Nicknames: Shades, Mr. Military, Cyke, Goggle-boy
Place of Origin: {the state or country they are from} Uh . . . somewhere.
Template: {Brotherhood, X-Men, loner, student, lacky, etc.} Probably the X-men, doncha think?
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Height: 6' or so
Weight: 150lbs
Scott: Hey, you're giving me the same weight as Lance!
Olhado(interviewer doing the bio): Okay then, let's try 180lbs - to cover that excess muscle stuff.
Eyes: Look, I, Scott, am taking over. I don't think this Olhado person knows enough about me to even attempt a "form." Anyway, eyes. I can't remember. Next time Magneto lures me into some uglifying machine, I'll be sure to look in a mirror and tell you.
Hair: Brown. A simple, unadorned brown. Not dirty brown, just brown. It's in that hair style in which the neck and lower head cut is closer to the skin than the top of the head, which is cut longer, with bang like protrusions in the forehead. What do you expect? It would have been much simpler if you just asked me for a picture!
Other distinguishing physical features: If I have any, I'm not going to tell you. Not after that degrading "Hair" thing.
Clothes: Conservative, especially in blues, browns, greys and dark reds. And yes, I do have these all too well known red sunglasses. They're really not that funny. Stop gawking or laughing or what have you.
Known Relatives: {Parents, cousins, brothers, sisters, etc. Adopted families CAN count but are not manditory.} I have this highly annoying younger brother called Alex Summers. Oh, I love him and the like, he IS my brother. But such a priority set! Surfing? Talking with this contrived "duuuuuuude" accent? I suppose some part of me expected someone a little more reserved and mature like . . . I won't mention names.
Powers/Mutations: One rather obvious one. These "optic blasts" that spurt uncontrollably out of my eyes if I don't have those red shades you believe are so hilarious. They are force blasts, not heat blasts. Not that it matters much. They're still powerful enough to kill any joker who pulls of my glasses for the fun of it. Comprende?
History: My parents, my brother, and I were merrily flying through a thunderstorm when, as one might expect, the plane was struck by lightning. My parents handed Alex and I what appeared to be the only parachutes and we, well, parachuted out of the plane. Of course, being the extremely lucky guy I am, my parachute caught fire and I hit the ground a little hard, suffering brain damage. Which is why I can't control these blasted blasted optic blasts . . . er. . . sorry. Supposedly I was the only survivor of the plane crash, but Alex landed in a mystical inlet on the beaches of Hawaii and absorbed the effects of the Glowing Surfer Stone into his body.
Olhado: Ahem!
Scott: Sorry. My mother most definitely did not survive the crash, but my father somehow did and became this overly muscled space guy known as the Corsair.
Olhado: What? You're not supposed to know that!
Scott: Eh heh, I'll try again. Then this guy called Cable apparently survived the plane crash, because. . .
Olhado: NO, NO! Skip the history! Although I can't fathom why you just didn't fill up the "relation" section with this junk . . .
Scott: We can always go back . . .
Olhado: Ach! Just go on to the personality.
Personality: I'll grant you this. I am a little "stiff." But it IS for good reason. Sheesh, we can't all be jokers all the time, or nothing would ever get done. If SOMEONE doesn't have the courage to risk looking less than "spontaneous" and "loose" all the time, all those spontaneous, loose people would laugh up the world, sure, but in the meantime, that happy world would be consumed in an apocylapse! Uh, hold on. I think I have the wrong speech here . . . Anyway, my point is that someone has to have a serious view of things, because some things need very much to be taken seriously. It's all right to have "whistling in the dark" characters like Kurt. They ease tension, sure. But someone needs to be there to direct, to take on the brunt of the fear and the blame, to watch over the team as a whole, to be the front line and the general rolled into one. I am that someone. It's a difficult, harrowing role, and I can't help but be controlling at times. I worry so much about my team . . . I can't help but worry. That aside, I DO have a sense of humor. I just don't get much of a chance to use it. In battle, I'm too interested in the status and objectives of my team to say something clever. Sorry if my "battle sayings" are cliched. Would you rather I put all my effort into being funny, rather than into winning and keeping my people safe? Come on!
Favorite music and pastime: Music is best when it's somewhat soothing. My nerves are frazzled enough at best to have to deal with heavy beats and "shocking" lyrics. And no, I'm not talking New Age or other hippie junk. Just somewhere-in-the-middle kind of music. I like watching movies and training. Yes, I actually like it. It's important enough to me that I make myself like it. That doesn't mean I don't like a good drive or the occasional time where I can just sit and do nothing . . . nothing except think, that is.
Quirks, limitations, abilities, and other weird stuff: I generally do keep to a half smile rather than a full one. I have this fondness for women with red hair and for clones of Jean . . .
Olhado: Oh, PLEASE behave yourself!
Scott: Sigh. Well, I think I've talked enough about my "quirks" already. I think I'm done.
Player does an exceptional job handling a difficult character to play. ~~V~~
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