Post by Ryo? on Dec 7, 2012 22:38:08 GMT -6
Name: Dust Triple
Aliases: None
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Alignment: True Neutral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 24th October
Physical Appearance:
Special Abilities: Laplace Interface: Possession by the entity calling itself 'Laplace'. Dust's Life Force is permanently connected to it, letting his brain act as a processing unit that sends any kind of information received to Laplace, who will proceed to consume the conceptual energy it possesses and dump the raw information in Dust's mind. This puts a strain on his brain, leading to headaches and more serious problems depending on the quantity of processed informations contained therein: to avoid an overload that would be potentially fatal, it is possible to dump the excess information on physical or digital supports. Through the mere touch of a portable USB hard drive, for example, it would be possible to dump information in different types of files (conversations would be audio or text files, visual memory would be video files and so on); writing on paper is equally doable but barely of any use unless excessive detail is put into the description of the information to dump.
Weapons:
Physical:
18x .357 caliber bullets
Bootleg Memory:
- Key of Truth - Schroedinger Blade
- Dan Wesson PPC Revolver, 6 .357 bullets capacity
History:
Imagine, if you will, a world. It is a very simple world - atmosphere, temperature, life, all that you have come to know as the standard setting you would imagine for an infinite number of stories to take place there. Apply all the rules that pertain to your boring reality, but leave a few hole opens... you know, to leave the possibility for something a bit more uncommon to seep in and spice things up a bit.
Done? Good. Now put a man in the middle of it all. He is one of many, many others populating this big world, born in one of those cities with towering buildings that challenge the sky's limits with their ludicrous heights, where a symphony of car horns and yelling people acts as everyone's soundtrack. Let us name this man Dust and focus on his life.
Dust's is exactly the kind of life that you would not like to follow, unless you felt that, for any reason, you have an urge to get bored fast. Dust's parents did not die shortly after his birth and did, in fact, live to see him graduate from compulsory education. Did they object to his going for a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice and Criminology and subsequently kick him out, leading to his getting to live into the darkest corners of humankind's society?
Again, no. Give the poor guy some rest, he is not destiny's plaything - that, he becomes shortly after having opened his very own Private Eye studio. Young and full of hopes... well, not really that full, but he tried at the very least. He did not care about people nor about ideals, therefore he made his life one of searching for other people, and not always the 'good citizen' kind of them. Money is money, whether your client is a man with an unfaithful wife or a mafioso wanting to snatch an irritating mole. But work goes only so well, before problems finally start to arise; just as our lackluster hero is contemplating how the hell he'll pay the rent for the next month, hell decides to send him a gift.
Picture Dust's face, now. Imagine it as he is faced with a disembodied being seemingly vomited from the recesses of some lazily-made fantastic horror movie. It - for referring to it as a 'he' would imply that it works by the common standards of living beings - calls itself Laplace. It's that destiny we mentioned before, you know? And guess what, it just so happened that Laplace found Dust's soul incredibly fitting to contain him. There is no time for questions, nor for them to be answered with a blunt NO from an unwilling Dust: before he knows, he has become the host for something which he cannot quite comprehend, if not to say that he doesn't have the slightest clue about it.
It could be a problem. What it becomes is, instead, the chance to make himself into one of the most proficient private eyes around, one who has no need for informers: information is like a bunch of bees coming to his honey covered trap. Laplace has done something to him, and whatever it is, Dust is pretty fine with it, although having his brown eyes turned golden is a bit eery, and that red strand of hair that has suddenly appeared in the middle of, you guessed it, more brown? Ridiculous. Not to mention the frequent headaches which make him twice as grumpy as he usually is - and believe me if I tell you that he is one of the grumpiest fellows you will ever meet, when the mood strikes. All in all, however, Dust is a particularly adaptable fellow and copes with it well enough.
Then, Novagenesis happens. A cult like many others, full of fanatics - the worst kind, to boot. It seems like yet another job: investigate this bunch of wackos, see if he can convince the client's daughter to keep mingling with them. Curiosity however strikes Dust when he starts to notice some things. The stuff these guys do, it is not just a bunch of chanting and praising some random deity while cutting up stray animals. There are strange lights coming from the lowest levels of their private building, sounds that should not grace the human ear and much more than that. It starts to become something more than simple work, when Dust starts to suspect that this may be yet another oddity like his Laplace friend. It has become something personal.
Now stop here to contemplate this perfectly clichéed scenario, imagine all the possible infiltration scenes, the fights between Dust and the cult members, let your mind run loose. You are wasting your time anyway, because what happens after a month since he's started to play the host for an eldritch parasite, only a couple of days since he has scraped the surface of Novagenesis' project - something having to do with the resurrection of some god or whatever - this world, so perfectly normal and unremarkable, ends.
There are no people anymore walking the streets. The cars clogging up in the traffic, empty. The wind whispers, but there is nobody to hear it on the entire planet. Nobody save one person. Have you guessed who this is?
No time to investigate, to inquire, to wonder why and how an entire world could cease to host life so easily, so suddenly. Dust has just woken up and been faced with the end of everything that made up his life until that point, before a little girl claiming to be Jesus Christ himself comes to tell him that she is there to 'save' him. Shortly before busting out the magical stabby magic that gives you a very bad idea of someone else's idea of saving people. Perhaps it would be okay to be finished like this, without having any idea of what happened... except Dust won't have any of it, because he'd still very much prefer to keep breathing if he can help it, thank you.
The last resort is there, where he knew that his life would eventually come to a turn. Novagenesis were doing a pretty good deal of strange experiments, it seems, and among its ruins - what even happened there, anyway? - is the only chance of escape.
Dust does not know where the machinery-powered gate full of pretty lights will lead him, as he passes through it. Laplace, maybe it knows... but making it talk is hard, and the little Messiah girl is still tailing behind, uttering her nonsense. The last step taken on a dead world is the first for Dust Triple, in whatever place fate has decided to whisk him to.
To think that he had gained almost enough to pay his due rent.
Aliases: None
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Alignment: True Neutral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 24th October
Physical Appearance:
Special Abilities: Laplace Interface: Possession by the entity calling itself 'Laplace'. Dust's Life Force is permanently connected to it, letting his brain act as a processing unit that sends any kind of information received to Laplace, who will proceed to consume the conceptual energy it possesses and dump the raw information in Dust's mind. This puts a strain on his brain, leading to headaches and more serious problems depending on the quantity of processed informations contained therein: to avoid an overload that would be potentially fatal, it is possible to dump the excess information on physical or digital supports. Through the mere touch of a portable USB hard drive, for example, it would be possible to dump information in different types of files (conversations would be audio or text files, visual memory would be video files and so on); writing on paper is equally doable but barely of any use unless excessive detail is put into the description of the information to dump.
Soul Hacker - Surface Loot: Through physical contact with an entity capable of thought, it becomes possible to acquire information about its identity and surface thoughts. Prolonged contact makes it possible to progressively receive more information from the entity's mind, but to reach deeper levels of thought it is necessary to either have a precise 'direction' to follow (a subject that Dust wants to find about and that the entity possesses somewhere in its mind, for example) or to make use of Key of Truth - Schroedinger Blade to eliminate all emotive and subconscious barriers protecting the truth that the target possesses. This ability can only be used against phantasmal entities through the use of Key of Truth - Schroedinger Blade, to compensate for the lack of physical contact.
Conceptual Syphon - Psychometric Reload: Information contained in inanimate sources like books, signs and multimedia (CDs, hard drives, phones), Dust will be able to absorb all of it without the need to directly read, hear or see it.
Signal Seeker - Voices from the Wind: With the usage of a cellphone, Dust will be able to attune himself to all phones, radioes, televisions and other appliances that transmit information through waves and intercept it, making it so that he can receive it on said cellphone whenever compatibility lets it read said signals.Slander Plague - Fake Bacillus: Through physical contact with a living entity or object, Dust will be able to temporarily manipulate the information they contain and of which presence in the target he has acquired prior knowledge of. He therefore will be able to either manipulate a single memory, block it or add a completely new ones, with the effect lasting until either the manipulation has been discovered by a third party or the target itself, or autonomously after a time lapse of half an hour.
Way of Life - Bootleg Memory: Dust can make use of personal skills with usage of any instrument, weapon of machinery by two means: absorption of information from a manual, instruction booklet or similar document, or memories pertaining to a person's practice of such actions. Of course, if the memory has been dumped elsewhere, he will not be able to make use of the skills until they are reacquired.
Root Scan - Structural Imprinting: Through contact with an inanimated object, Dust is able to save in his mind a full blueprint of its shape, structure and function, without the need to directly see, touch or know about its inner workings.Phantasm Truth - Bootleg Ghost: In the case of an item that he is able to wield in one or both hands, Dust is able to reproduce a copy of it that will remain in existence as long as he keeps contact with it. Should he lose said contact, the item will immediately dissipate into nothingness.
- A Bootleg Ghost possesses all the characteristics of the original item, but should it happen to be one requiring power to be used (like electrical appliances) it won't work unless it needs batteries, which will otherwise be produced inside the object itself. Likewise, if an item like a gun is produced along with bullets, they will disappear as soon as they leave contact with the weapon, therefore requiring the usage of original bullets.
- Only one Bootleg Ghost at a time can be produced.
- Between the production of one Bootleg Ghost and the other, a post has to pass to relieve the stress induced by the operation.
Key to Truth - Schroedinger Blade: A peculiar kind of Bootleg Ghost born from Laplace himself rather than having an original blueprint. It appears as a black sword of 120cm of length with a thin, one-edged blade; while it can be used as a proper weapon, its function is that of 'dividing the truth from falsehood' and can act according to Dust's will depending on what usage he wants to make of it. Its basic use consists in slicing an entity, whether living or not: this lets Dust receive instantaneous information about an object and slice the mental resistance of a target in case it is a living being, letting him access to deeper memories with less effort and time than it would normally take. Along with that, Dust will be able, by slicing a medium containing information, to discover whether a statement is made up or not, with falsehood being literally cut up and 'bleeding' the truth lying therein, or nothing if it is a made up rumor. In both cases, the target does not receive any direct damage, as if the blade was incorporeal. The blade, like all other Bootleg Ghosts, will disappear as soon as it leaves Dust's hands, or is willed to do so.
Weapons:
Physical:
18x .357 caliber bullets
Bootleg Memory:
- Key of Truth - Schroedinger Blade
- Dan Wesson PPC Revolver, 6 .357 bullets capacity
History:
Imagine, if you will, a world. It is a very simple world - atmosphere, temperature, life, all that you have come to know as the standard setting you would imagine for an infinite number of stories to take place there. Apply all the rules that pertain to your boring reality, but leave a few hole opens... you know, to leave the possibility for something a bit more uncommon to seep in and spice things up a bit.
Done? Good. Now put a man in the middle of it all. He is one of many, many others populating this big world, born in one of those cities with towering buildings that challenge the sky's limits with their ludicrous heights, where a symphony of car horns and yelling people acts as everyone's soundtrack. Let us name this man Dust and focus on his life.
Dust's is exactly the kind of life that you would not like to follow, unless you felt that, for any reason, you have an urge to get bored fast. Dust's parents did not die shortly after his birth and did, in fact, live to see him graduate from compulsory education. Did they object to his going for a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice and Criminology and subsequently kick him out, leading to his getting to live into the darkest corners of humankind's society?
Again, no. Give the poor guy some rest, he is not destiny's plaything - that, he becomes shortly after having opened his very own Private Eye studio. Young and full of hopes... well, not really that full, but he tried at the very least. He did not care about people nor about ideals, therefore he made his life one of searching for other people, and not always the 'good citizen' kind of them. Money is money, whether your client is a man with an unfaithful wife or a mafioso wanting to snatch an irritating mole. But work goes only so well, before problems finally start to arise; just as our lackluster hero is contemplating how the hell he'll pay the rent for the next month, hell decides to send him a gift.
Picture Dust's face, now. Imagine it as he is faced with a disembodied being seemingly vomited from the recesses of some lazily-made fantastic horror movie. It - for referring to it as a 'he' would imply that it works by the common standards of living beings - calls itself Laplace. It's that destiny we mentioned before, you know? And guess what, it just so happened that Laplace found Dust's soul incredibly fitting to contain him. There is no time for questions, nor for them to be answered with a blunt NO from an unwilling Dust: before he knows, he has become the host for something which he cannot quite comprehend, if not to say that he doesn't have the slightest clue about it.
It could be a problem. What it becomes is, instead, the chance to make himself into one of the most proficient private eyes around, one who has no need for informers: information is like a bunch of bees coming to his honey covered trap. Laplace has done something to him, and whatever it is, Dust is pretty fine with it, although having his brown eyes turned golden is a bit eery, and that red strand of hair that has suddenly appeared in the middle of, you guessed it, more brown? Ridiculous. Not to mention the frequent headaches which make him twice as grumpy as he usually is - and believe me if I tell you that he is one of the grumpiest fellows you will ever meet, when the mood strikes. All in all, however, Dust is a particularly adaptable fellow and copes with it well enough.
Then, Novagenesis happens. A cult like many others, full of fanatics - the worst kind, to boot. It seems like yet another job: investigate this bunch of wackos, see if he can convince the client's daughter to keep mingling with them. Curiosity however strikes Dust when he starts to notice some things. The stuff these guys do, it is not just a bunch of chanting and praising some random deity while cutting up stray animals. There are strange lights coming from the lowest levels of their private building, sounds that should not grace the human ear and much more than that. It starts to become something more than simple work, when Dust starts to suspect that this may be yet another oddity like his Laplace friend. It has become something personal.
Now stop here to contemplate this perfectly clichéed scenario, imagine all the possible infiltration scenes, the fights between Dust and the cult members, let your mind run loose. You are wasting your time anyway, because what happens after a month since he's started to play the host for an eldritch parasite, only a couple of days since he has scraped the surface of Novagenesis' project - something having to do with the resurrection of some god or whatever - this world, so perfectly normal and unremarkable, ends.
There are no people anymore walking the streets. The cars clogging up in the traffic, empty. The wind whispers, but there is nobody to hear it on the entire planet. Nobody save one person. Have you guessed who this is?
No time to investigate, to inquire, to wonder why and how an entire world could cease to host life so easily, so suddenly. Dust has just woken up and been faced with the end of everything that made up his life until that point, before a little girl claiming to be Jesus Christ himself comes to tell him that she is there to 'save' him. Shortly before busting out the magical stabby magic that gives you a very bad idea of someone else's idea of saving people. Perhaps it would be okay to be finished like this, without having any idea of what happened... except Dust won't have any of it, because he'd still very much prefer to keep breathing if he can help it, thank you.
The last resort is there, where he knew that his life would eventually come to a turn. Novagenesis were doing a pretty good deal of strange experiments, it seems, and among its ruins - what even happened there, anyway? - is the only chance of escape.
Dust does not know where the machinery-powered gate full of pretty lights will lead him, as he passes through it. Laplace, maybe it knows... but making it talk is hard, and the little Messiah girl is still tailing behind, uttering her nonsense. The last step taken on a dead world is the first for Dust Triple, in whatever place fate has decided to whisk him to.
To think that he had gained almost enough to pay his due rent.
