[X] My Assistant

[Troy Bolton]

UPDATE: Due to Bogart's absence, feel free to ask any of the other PANE mods questions. We will be happy to help

Have you ever thought, 'I like PANE so much that I want to experience it twice as much?' Well then, this is the thread for you!

Second characters have come to Furoh, but first, some ground rules. Not everyone will be able to have a second character, if only because you must prove your worth as an RPer to have it considered.

• You can't have your characters in the same RP. Never the twain shall meet, and such is the case here.
• There has to be a palpable difference between the two characters.
• There's a maximum of two characters. No ifs, ands, or buts.
• I reserve the right to deny any profile for any reason. Maybe because it's Monday. I hate Monday.

The process of applying for a character is simple, but places a fair burden on the RPer himself. The first thing you must do is complete and have graded at least two (2) RPs in which you've received a 10/15 grading or higher; sorry, but I can't consider RPers who haven't shown a modicum of dedication and given us an example of their roleplaying skill with others of the forum. If the RP dies partway through, it must at least have been of decent length by then to be considered as fulfilling this step. Please link these in your post.

The second bit is where this thread comes in. We've got an example of your first character in action, but now you've to prove that you can clearly roleplay two different and distinct personalities. When trying to earn a second character, chances are that you've got that character in mind already. You've got to demonstrate the differences between these two characters: begin with a non-combat situation and write at least three (3) good sized paragraphs for each character, demonstrating their different personalities and thought patterns - I'd suggest playing up internal dialogue, chances are it'll help a bunch. But, seriously, don't make this about battling, cause I'll outright reject you for even a bit of that - your characters are different even when there's nothing to fight (or they should be.) Remember, you don't need to post your profile here, just your credentials and your differences.

Once that's done, I'll consider your post, and either allow or disallow your second character. Of course, I'll try to work as fast as possible, but any post in the thread / any PMs to the effect of hurrying me up will count as an automatic rejection for the heckler. If you're rejected, you must complete another graded RP to re-fulfill step one and then try again.

Assuming that you're approved, however, you have full right to post a second profile in the profile forum for approval, and may roleplay freely with that character. However, that character must be start at basic levels - 20 levels to spread between two to four Pokemon.

Now, this is a trial. After four months, we will take stock of the situation, and make a ruling on whether or not to make second characters permanent, or to extend the trial period. Anyone who is in the middle of an RP with their secondary character when the cut-off time for the trial is through is allowed to finish that RP. Pending our decision, they must return to their original character afterward

Don't message the other mods with questions, or post questions in this thread. PM me with questions. This thread's only to be used for applications.

This post has been edited by 2gamers: Apr 30 2011, 01:55 PM

[Troy Bolton]

@MH: Denied, unfortunately. You have to link the gradings of the two 10/15's.

Sorry, maybe I should've included an example. (Remember, you don't need to post the profile here).

First, the gradings to prove a certain level of quality:
Harrington Cup - 10/15.
The Big Day - 10/15


Scenario: Finding Somebody's Wallet.

"Sure, that's one way of looking at it. But it's totally wrong." Set scene - early morning, post jog. Beside one tall, red headed boy in short red running shorts emblazoned with "Arasam Soccer" stood two puffing Pokemon - both spherical in shape and splayed across the ground like roadkill. They're gasping for air as if just rescued from drowning. He's holding his phone with one hand, the other holding two fingers too his neck to count his pulse. The conversation he's having is a serious one, by his tone.

"No, listen. They both need each-other. It's interdependency, y'know?." He listens. "Oh. Maybe you don't." He begins to stretch, starting with wall (well, tree) stretches and segueing to back stretches.

"Well, yeah, I know that. He does awful things to Tom. Nasty, hell's bells, even sadistic things. But that's fine, as long as tha- hold that thought." He'd espied a bit of shiny leather on the ground. Handing the phone to the exhausted Gulpin on the ground, he moves to check it out. It takes a bit of effort, but after a moment's exertion, he holds a slightly soiled wallet. He pulls out the wallet. Nick Cormack...never heard of him, but I bet he misses his wallet. And Hell's Bells, he's loaded! Just from one compartment was around $5000, a small fortune. This Nick also had a sizable array of credit cards, which the boy knew could fetch about $1000 each. A crisis of morals overtook him for a moment.

On one hand, he could really use the money. His Arasam Soccer shorts were too small about a year ago, and he and the two Pokemon at his feet had been subsiding on bread and water for about a week. On the other hand, he hadn't been brought up that poorly. His mind is made up, and he drops the wallet into his backpack.

He gestures to the two Pokemon that he's moving again. They both affix him with looks of agony, and sighing, he returns them to their Pokeballs, cradling his phone in the crevice between neck and ear. "What was that? Yeah, Kat, I'm back..."

`~`~`~`

"That was a damned decent thing you did there, son." The police officer has a magnificent mustache, perfectly groomed and bushy enough to keep a pencil in for easy convenience. He sits at a tall desk, nursing his sizable belly with large Krispy Kreme donuts and gallons of black coffee.

Woodrow Spencer shrugged, one strap of his backpack casually laying across his shoulder. "Just doing what anyone'd do, I guess." The officer shakes his head, not accepting the shove-off.

"Still. Things like that should be rewarded. Care for a donut?" A moment of silence, then from the backpack, an enormously loud stomach grumbles. Woodrow's first to react.

"It was my Gulpin, I swear." They laugh. "Got any of the vanilla ones with sprinkles?"

With a grunt, the well-dressed woman smacked closed the door to her office. Grumbling obscenities under her breath, she rounded the corner of her desk and sunk into her chair, cupping her face with her hands. Hell's bells, does nothing go right in this company? Lightest blonde hair frames viper red eyes, lightly kneaded. Sunlight, shining through the ceiling-to-floor windows, cast the woman's shadow onto the mahogany desk before her. It writhed in the sunlight, making motions its owner didn't. After a moment, it spoke.

<You seem a little stressed out. Perhaps I should take a snack...?> "Can it," she muttered back, smacking her shadow, which was grinning in contrast to her own somber visage. The Shuppet tore himself away from it, twirling around in the breeze. He fed off of negative emotion, and in all honesty, allowing him to indulge would probably lift her bad mood pretty effectively.

But a bad mood is something to be savoured, and shared. Friday Hastur might be a great deal of things, but greedy was not one of them.

"We're taking a walk," she announced suddenly, lifting her face from her palms. <Don't mind me, I'll just hitch a ride,> replied the Shuppet, who with a spin plunged back into the woman's shadow. The shadow pulsed, taking on an almost purple hue. Friday rose, grabbed her overcoat (with the weather being as fickle as it had been, it paid to be prepared), and swept out of the office. To her protesting boss, she blew a kiss and waved goodbye - what were they going to do, fire her? She might even welcome it. But there was no chance of it - her parents owned the company, after all.

<Where to, then? The Diner? The Weather Station Trail? Forest?> Friday shook her head, buttoning on her overcoat. It was growing far too chilly, and her phone alerted her of a chance of hailstorms. Stars and stones, she thought, replacing the phone in her pocket. This day just gets better. "No, Eames, we're going to the river." To all the world, it seemed as though she was talking to herself. But today, this day of days, Friday could care less.

The river path was silent, not a soul excepting a runner wearing far too little clothing for such a cold day. Make no mistake, Friday was a great fan of running, but when she did, she wore clothing a bit more modest (or at least warm). After the runner, though, there was very little to distract her from her foul mood. She seethed, relating to the Shuppet in her shadow all of the unfairness endured through the past week. He knew it all, of course, but listened for politeness' sake.

Out of disgust for Hastur Dynamics and herself in general, she kicked at a rock, scuffing her custom Armani shoes. The rock bounced along the path, but did not roll to stop with a satisfying noise. Instead, it sounded as if it had hit some kind of cloth. Friday investigated, finding a wallet nestled in a crack in the tarmac, where grass and tar fought for dominance.

She opened it, scanning the ID with disinterest. It belonged to Nick Cormack, who was one of her former bosses. He was also an enormous creep, and had skirted the edge of sexual harassment with the red-eyed woman more than once. The right thing to do is to to give this back, but if I do, it'll give him another chance to hit on me. For a moment, Friday was caught in a moral debate. She tapped the thick and heavily scented leather to her lips once or twice, deep in thought, before drawing a conclusion. A small smile twisted her face.

With a mighty wind-up, she chucked the wallet into the river, where it fell with a satisfying plop! <You're too cruel,> came a voice from her shadow, but she ignored it. Instead, Friday Hastur straightened her tie and turned on her heel, walking away from the river with a spring in her step.