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| User: | gunsight (8947240) |
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| Name: | gunsight | ||||
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| AOL IM: |  ethanus (Add Buddy, Send Message) | ||||
| Bio: | (RP journal -- Tseng for ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} discedo)Name: El LJ: </a></b></a> ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} elvaronE-Mail: elvaron at split-infinity.org IM: ethanus (AIM) Character Name: Tseng Series: Final Fantasy VII Timeline: Post Advent Children, post Dirge of Cerberus. Canon Resource Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Characters  What your character can offer: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s what he’d like you to think, anyway. Head of Shinra’s Department of Administrative Research (“We’re more than just thugs. ...Well, maybe we are a bit thuggish. ...A lot. ...Look, just leave Reno out of the equation.”), Tseng is an enigma wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in ... a suit. No one knows exactly what he’s capable of, and he prefers it that way. Tseng has an intellect that is directed with deadly efficiency at policing the safety of Shinra Company, performing the will of its executives, and killing things. It makes up for its brilliance in that area by failing in others, such as knowing how to do his own laundry. Irons are for killing people, not pressing clothes. He also has a good memory - not photographic, but close. Memorising 10,000 kanji per year when you’re young will do that to you. On the physical side, he’s trained at martial arts, although flying a desk on a regular basis means that his skills are a tad rusty. He can still shoot the bottle cap off a beer bottle at one hundred paces when drunk, though. (Temporarily using this so that people can get a better feel for this particular Tseng. Will get a proper write up done later.) Third-Person Sample: He knew before he awoke that he was in Midgar. The smell was the same - the same of waste, of rot, of destruction. The smell of death. The sound was the same - it was quiet, in a way that spoke of abandonment and desolation. It was a lonely sort of quiet, marked only by the whisper of the wind through deserted streets. The silence after the thunder. Yet somehow, when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to find that it wasn’t Midgar at all. He would have been somewhat disappointed if life had gotten that predictable. There was often little room in a Turk’s life to wonder about the whys of things. Stopping to think was a luxury that they simply couldn’t afford. Which was why the first thing he did was move, searching for cover, searching for danger, searching for weapons. To his slight consternation, all three were in short supply. He wondered, briefly - because, as Director, he did have more time than the average Turk to think about the whys - whether this was all, somehow, Reno’s fault. As usual. But as repeated sweeps of the area yielded absolutely nothing besides abandoned, half destroyed buildings and debris, it seemed less and less likely. Reno hadn’t mastered the art of subtlety yet, fortunately for the world. Another thought was rapidly unfolding as he moved through the deserted streets. Not only was this was no Midgar, it was no city that he was familiar with. In fact, glancing at the sky, he was starting to suspect that it was no world that he was familiar with. Jenova had travelled the stars before coming to this world, they said. The calamity from the Heavens had struck down countless worlds before darkening Gaia’s skies... It took some effort to scramble atop a ruined building, sliding every step of the way and hoping that what was currently crumbling plaster wouldn’t turned into crumbled dust while he was standing on it. The view did not improve from a height, however, and spoke of the same story in all directions as far as the eye could see. Utter lifelessness. He sucked in a breath. Assuming. Assuming that this wasn’t some kind of alcohol or drug induced hallucination. Assuming -- and that was a big assumption -- that it wasn’t All Somehow Reno’s fault, he could only surmise that either he’d been caught in a random wormhole, or there had been some terrible accident involving large amounts of exit materia. And if it were either of those, it was equally possible that he wasn’t the only resident of Gaia who had ended up in this particular mess. His eyes narrowed. Rufus. His innate paranoia reared its ever pervasive head. An assassination attempt targetted at the President seemed more and more likely, the more he considered the issue. Which made it entirely too likely that Rufus was here as well. And even if he wasn’t, as a Turk, Tseng was duty bound to fight his way through hell, high water, or random dimension swaps to get back to his side. Like a compass needle finding its magnetic north, he spun on his heel, filled with renewed determination and a sense of purpose. ...When the crumbling plaster he was standing on promptly crumbled. First-Person Sample: I suppose the world is overdue for Armageddon. It missed it twice, what with Meteor and Sephiroth’s return two years later. Perhaps there is some philosophical meaning behind all this, perhaps it is something as simple as third time pays for all. But since philosophy doesn’t fill any stomachs - whether with food or with lead -- it’s something best left to other people who have the luxury of time. I wish, though, that if the world had ended, it had done so in a more complete fashion. Something that doesn’t reek of a sloppy job, a mission left unfinished, with too many ifs and buts. The worst part about hunting for someone who might not even be there is that one will never know when the search ends. Yet some part of me cannot help but wonder - what if they are all, indeed... not here? What if this is a new world, with no Company, no mantle of obligation, no weight of duty? What if the bitterness I taste on the air is not the taste of loss, but the tang of ...freedom? | ||||
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| Member of: | 3: discedo, discedo_logs, discedo_ooc | ||||
| Account type: | Plus Account | ||||
