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Halloween Jack ([personal profile] ghosttownapproach) wrote2013-10-19 08:42 pm


Player Information
Name: Terana
Timezone: EST
Personal Journal: [personal profile] terana
Player Contact: shaladox @ ; terana @
Characters in Game/Played: None.

Character Information
Name: Halloween Jack
Canon: Diamond Dogs (Bowie album). I recognise that this is in essence basing an OC off of some song lyrics, so I’m going to treat the rest of this like I’m apping an OC.
Gender: Basically male. Technically, neither. Martians are single-gendered. They all look pretty much like guys, but can all give birth, too, kind of like Oglaf-style barbarians. Male covers the bases well enough, though.
Age: Equivalent of mid-twenties.
Suitability: n/a
Species: Martian. Not from Mars. But they call themselves Martians because they’ve seen our TV broadcasts, and they think it’s funny.
World/Setting: Jack (and his brothers, Ziggy Stardust and the Thin White Duke, but I’m not apping them) comes from a desert planet in the final days of life. It was a nice place, once, but environmental catastrophe and world wars over dwindling resources pretty much wrecked that. The surface is almost completely unlivable now. No water, no vegetation, virtually no ozone layer. The surviving martians live mostly below ground, in one of three places:
  • The last remaining old city, the Capitol, where the rich and powerful dwell. This is controlled by the Duke and his legions, in a stylish Orwellian/fascist way.
  • On the outskirts of that city, on/just below the surface, is Hunger City. This is where the outcasts of society, the poor and criminals, are relegated. Not choice real estate, but its lawlessness means you can get anything you want there, and lends it a taboo appeal. It’s trendy for young and stylish city-dwellers to go hang out there and be ~edgy~ and ~take risks~. It can serve as a neutral ground between the old city and...
  • Further out than that, out in the ruins of the rest of the world, lie small, struggling camps of rebels, who fight the Duke and his regime, and try to scrape out an existence on small livestock and subsistence farming, as well as raids on the Capitol and trading in Hunger City.

The species is essentually human-looking, but in a weird, androgynous, ethereal way. Think David Bowie (of course) Tilda Swinton, Andrej Pejić, Saskia de Brauw, Iselin Steiro. Hair colours are white, yellow, orange, red, pink, burgundy, brown… anything in that warm colour range. Their eyes range from yellow to green to blue, and have cat-slit pupils. Pretty much all of them are ridiculously pale from spending most of their lives underground. Some of them have prophetic/empathetic powers (though Jack does not).

Martians have been picking up transmissions from modern-day Earth for decades now, and are equal parts fascinated and infuriated by the funny-looking monkey creatures with the excellent taste in music and the really nice planet. (When Jack was a young man, a rebel “savior” called Ziggy Stardust tried to go to Earth. It didn’t work out very well for him.) They pretty much all know at least one or two Earth languages, and imitating human fashion (and bodies, through plastic surgery) is really popular. Since they have only the vaguest sense of gender as a solid and unchanging thing, these imitations are pretty fluid along gender lines.

Jack was born in a rebel settlement called Freecloud, the eldest of a litter of three. Freecloud was an idyllic commune, devoted to trying to reproduce the ancient tribal way of life as best they could, in the harsh post-war environment. The community was governed by group consensus, and sustained itself through farming, raising small animals, and gathering from the caves.

It was a hard life, but a happy one. Jack was the eldest and the strongest of his siblings, and the de-facto protector of the other two. The “claws,” as their mother put it, to the Duke’s “mind” and Ziggy’s “heart.”

The remaining Martian civilisation, at that time, was ruled by an artificial intelligence called Prayer, that, though constructed to save the martian people from the damage they had visited upon themselves in the great wars, had gone mad from the drudgery of its programmed tasks and and had taken to malevolently tormenting its subjects. When Jack and his siblings were still young children, Prayer sent in armed forces and wiped Freecloud out of existence. His parent died in the raid on the commune, and he and his brothers were separated -- which led Jack, of course, to assume that his siblings had met the same fate as his parent. He had failed to protect them.

Jack was sent to an education camp intended to ‘civilise’ rebel children. Being a strong-willed little boy, still traumatised from the loss of his entire family, he railed against the camp’s authority at every opportunity, and staged countless escape attempts and attacks on the faculty. He was punished for it every time, severely. Which led to further rebellion from the strong-willed young man. A cycle of abuse and resistance that left Jack, as he grew, with a strong dislike of ‘civilised’ martian society, a hatred of oppression and abuse of power, and an educational level just a couple steps above nonexistent.

He managed, eventually, to escape the camp for good. He lived for quite a time on the fringes of Martian society, as a bandit and a criminal. It was a dangerous life, and he sustained some serious injuries during these years -- several concussions, wounds from fights, and of course, the loss of his eye. He found others who remembered Freecloud, who held rebellious ideals and dreamed of freedom and a simpler time, and gathered them to him, uniting small groups and gangs into a loosely organised rebellion.

Still, against Prayer -- mad, hateful, nearly omnipresent and omniscent -- their struggles seemed fruitless. And so, it was a miracle to them, when the machine one day, with no apparent cause, ceased to function. Rumours flew, in the months following, that the rebel “prophet” Ziggy Stardust (whom Jack knew by reputation only, and who he thought was a bit daft, honestly) had been the one to slay the machine, before his flight to the distant planet Earth.

More substantial than rumour, in the same months, an attendee of the machine rose to power in its absence, taking over in the power vacuum. Little was known about the man -- not even his name. He called himself the Duke -- the Thin, White Duke, it was whispered -- and he used the avenues of control that Prayer had established to cement his own power. (He had, in fact, been the one to actually slay the artificial intelligence. But no one knew that.) Where the machine was mad and hateful, the Duke was cold, calculating, emotionless in his pursuit of power and control over their race. He was, if it was possible, more machine than Prayer had been. And for Jack and his rebels -- who sought freedom in every form, on every level, for the Martian people -- he was an even worse affront to their ideals. Jack turned his attentions to fighting this new regime, trying to bring it down. And against another living being, his rebellion found itself gaining some ground. Not enough for victory -- but enough to put the two sides in a stalemate, fighting fruitlessly as the world slowly died around them. (But then, the world was dying anyway. So what would peace gain?)

Though Jack is, in his position as leader of the rebel tribes, ostensibly some kind of military and strategic powerhouse, that is not where his true strength lies. (Just the opposite, really. Though he has some instinctive gift for strategy, it hasn’t gone far beyond instinct, thanks to a few too many blows to the head, a touch of dyslexia, and an absolutely horrific educational system.)

He’s an extrovert, quite charming, adventurous and flirtatious, skilled at charming people and swaying them with his passionate rhetoric. And he is a nurturer, a protector. He gathers people to him, takes care of them and keeps them safe, and they, in turn, provide him with what he lacks. He likes to see people happy, likes to see them free to pursue their own happiness. He feels very strongly about personal freedom and the limits government -- any kind of government -- can put on that. He prefers to live outside of any strict rule-bound system when at all possible. He is an anarchist, a primitivist, a believer in the Martian equivalent of enthusiastic consent -- translated to modern earth terms, he’d be a member of a local anarchist movement, or in a commune somewhere.

Due to his traumatic childhood and the dangers of his outlaw status, he has… trust issues, let’s say. He’s quite skeptical, unable to trust any report or news he hears without a large amount of proof. Even if he ‘believes’ it or follows along as though he does, he always tries to prepare for betrayal, and have a contingency plan or two in place, for when it happens. He tries hard to never allow people to get closer to him, emotionally, than ‘bed partner’ or ‘friends with benefits,’ due to the dual risks to himself (if they are hurt or killed, or end up betraying him) and them (if they are targeted thanks to their connection to him).

Living on a desert world that’s basically in its death throes -- and what’s more, being an outlaw on this world, forced only to rely on under the radar and off the grid means of sustenance for himself and his followers -- he is a skilled survivalist. He is obsessively frugal with material resources, and quite skilled at not just surviving, but scraping out a living in harsh desert and underground environments. He is an eternal improvisor and an expert at the kludge, and is a surprisingly skilled gardener and herbalist, too, though of course there will be a learning curve if he wishes to apply these skills to a whole new world with different plant life.

Though he does not enjoy violence for its own sake (except for the kind of rough play-fighting that leads to just-as-rough sex), he will not flinch from fighting, or killing if the need arises. He does what he has to, to survive and to uphold his beliefs.

Abilities/Weaknesses: First aid. Guerrilla warfare. Demolitions. Melee combat (bare-handed and with knives). Improvised weaponry. Booby traps. Evading capture. Desert survival. Small-scale agriculture. Herbalism (Martian flora only). Anarchist political theory. Delegation and management. Parkour in heels. Self-lubricating anus.

RP Samples:

1) Taste test meme.


It’s on his third day here, in this strange new land -- this bright and lively world of sex and freedom and shining lakes -- that Jack realises what he needs to do.

He begins to ask -- just quietly, never to anyone very close to the Castle -- about the magics that brought them here, and who, beside the Mistress, might have such power. The answers he receives would discourage some seekers -- but though he is told, that’s powerful magic, I don’t know of anyone near here, I’ve heard rumours of someone across the sea -- he hears no definite proof that the idea he nurtures like a seedling is impossible. It just may take a bit of time, a lot of searching, and a great deal of effort. Jack is fine with that. This world seems to be a place that likes the idea of a quest, after all. This, he decides, can be his -- to find a way to bring what remains of his species to this world.

Because his planet is dying, and this one is so, so alive. If there is the chance, the faintest possibility, that he could bring his people to this paradise, he has to do everything in his power to try and make it happen.