Post by Deleted on Jun 11, 2016 10:04:06 GMT
Player Alias: @tonylefruitbat
Character Name: Tailgate
Allegiance: Neutral
Appearance Description:
Tailgate is a minibot, a mass-produced waste disposal unit of Golden Age make and model. The most noticeable thing about him is his lack of a "proper" faceplate -- his intake is a simple, suction-only model with no sense of taste, as a mech of his rank had no need for it, and his optics, though displaced for better depth perception, are still semi-fused. He can only emote through vocalization, body language, and the brightening and dimming of his visor. He can make it seem as if he's squeezing his optics or squinting or even furrowing a brow ridge to better convey his own emotional state, but it's just a trick of the display in the glass.
His frame proper is rounded, lacking in angles to make him seem more friendly and personable, with a smaller middle, heavier chassis and top, and thick, round thighs. His helm is small and square, and his optics take up most of it, adding even further to the friendly, cheerful appearance. He's mainly white in color, with a light blue for accents; the scheme is decidedly non-flashy and very soft, appealing to the eye. Looking at him, it's almost as if he was built with others' comfort in mind. Tailgate has a hood just behind his helm that forms the front of his alt. mode.
His alt. mode is a small car, just as round as he is, of a Golden Age Cybertronian model. Any Cybertronian that sees it or him will only recognize the like from museums.
Personality + Character Traits:
"The more he's pushed away, the harder he reaches out."
Tailgate is friendly more than just in frame. He's an outgoing, kind, and caring mech, despite the small sarcastic streak he holds. At first, he can almost seem too eager to talk, too bubbly, too happy to see you. In a war like this, mechs like that just don't happen, and it's easy to forget he's from another time. He's naive, optimistic, and needy just like most young mechs, eager to trust and befriend, and some have decided he's "childlike" or even outright a child because of it. But make no mistake; he is an adult with an adult's mind.
Tailgate has an undiagnosed panic disorder that surfaces in stressful situations. Threat of violence, large groups of unknown, crowding people, and overly loud voices and noises are just a few things that can trigger it. When it is triggered, Tailgate is prone to panic attacks if he's not sufficiently calmed in time.
Tailgate is very loving and a bit of a hopeless romantic, and tends to see the best in people even when they can't see it themselves, and sometimes when it's not even there. This can be both a blessing and a curse. Friends are drawn to him for this very reason, but so are people who'd want to use him; because of it, he can't see harmful people coming until it's too late.
Weaponry:
History:
Tailgate was a well-born newspark born in the Golden Age of Cybertron, long before most mechas' living memory. As soon as he emerged, his bright blue spark was placed in the pre-made body of a waste disposal unit. His only job was to clean up after others with bright, happy optics (in lieu of a smile), and he was given to the owner of a renowned medical science facility in Iacon to heed his beck and call. For the first month or so of his life, he cleaned the living quarters' of his employer. But then a mech at the science facility was killed in an accident, and rather than find another mech, Tailgate was given their job cleaning the labs.
Tailgate was always so interested in the experiments they did at the facility. He read all the notes on every single one when they were left out at the end of the day, sometimes wishing that he could be a scientist, too, or maybe even a nurse. But his lot in life was what it was -- he cleaned the labs, and swept the halls, and sometimes a mech or two would say "hello" to him as they passed, and that was how it went for the first year that he lived. He didn't ask questions or make noise or a fuss if he could help it. He knew he was disposable.
The facility, meanwhile, had began work on a new kind of experimental cryostasis, designed to freeze mechs suffering from cybercrosis or other spark-related illness before the illness got too advanced, in the hopes that it would stall their deaths long enough for cures to be found. It was meant to freeze the spark without killing it, whereas more traditional kinds of stasis simply stopped the body and processor and left the spark alone.
The experiment, over and over again, proved to be a failure, and so it was abandoned. Tailgate came across it as he cleaned one day, and decided to investigate it. Unfortunately for him, the door closed behind him -- and even more unfortunate, that activated the stasis pod. The mechs around the building assumed he'd just run away; it wasn't unheard of. Tailgate, and the pod he was stored in, was forgotten about completely until the Great Exodus towards the middle of the Decepticon-Autobot war. The facility was cleaned out by a neutral party, things that looked important or valuable stashed on his ship, and Tailgate's stasis pod was one of them.
The neutral's ship was shot down by the Nemesis when it neared Earth a few million years later, and it crashed down in the middle of the New Mexico desert. During the crash, Tailgate's stasis pod fell out of the cargo hold, cracking open upon impact with Earth.
Both Decepticons and Autobots, once they checked their scanners, would notice a life signal with no known faction blipping into existence.
Roleplay/Writing Sample:
Outwardly, Optimus showed little to no sign of emotion, which was par the course. But Starscream had grown quite accustomed to picking up more subtle cues – the sound of fans raising in volume, the prick of an EM field, the slight, controlled waver in his tone, and the way his digits twitched, almost as if they were about to ball themselves into a fist. Immediately, Starscream felt his nerves advancing on him. The burst of heated anger was being replaced by a cold, creeping dread.
He was not safe. He was not safe. He was not safe he was–
The Seeker snarled, guttural and feral, talons leaving gauges in the metal in front of him. No. No. He wasn’t going to fall prey to that, not now.
“Then stop counting on the fact that the others will find you! At this rate, Optimus, they won’t. You’ve been doing nothing but holding your ground; if you want to advance in this war, you’re going to have to find different strategies and solutions to the problems set before you. This? This isn’t going to last. None of this is going to last. All of your luck has been just that – luck.”
The Seeker flicked a wing, optics narrowing. “You saw yourself how close I got to destroying your entire operation. You and Megatron may both be blind to a lot of things in regards to strategy, and he may be worse off without me there, even if he hardly listened to me in the first place, but he’s got the upper hand in nearly everything else. You say you’re hopeful.
“Hope does not win wars.”
Character Name: Tailgate
Allegiance: Neutral
Appearance Description:
Tailgate is a minibot, a mass-produced waste disposal unit of Golden Age make and model. The most noticeable thing about him is his lack of a "proper" faceplate -- his intake is a simple, suction-only model with no sense of taste, as a mech of his rank had no need for it, and his optics, though displaced for better depth perception, are still semi-fused. He can only emote through vocalization, body language, and the brightening and dimming of his visor. He can make it seem as if he's squeezing his optics or squinting or even furrowing a brow ridge to better convey his own emotional state, but it's just a trick of the display in the glass.
His frame proper is rounded, lacking in angles to make him seem more friendly and personable, with a smaller middle, heavier chassis and top, and thick, round thighs. His helm is small and square, and his optics take up most of it, adding even further to the friendly, cheerful appearance. He's mainly white in color, with a light blue for accents; the scheme is decidedly non-flashy and very soft, appealing to the eye. Looking at him, it's almost as if he was built with others' comfort in mind. Tailgate has a hood just behind his helm that forms the front of his alt. mode.
His alt. mode is a small car, just as round as he is, of a Golden Age Cybertronian model. Any Cybertronian that sees it or him will only recognize the like from museums.
Personality + Character Traits:
"The more he's pushed away, the harder he reaches out."
Tailgate is friendly more than just in frame. He's an outgoing, kind, and caring mech, despite the small sarcastic streak he holds. At first, he can almost seem too eager to talk, too bubbly, too happy to see you. In a war like this, mechs like that just don't happen, and it's easy to forget he's from another time. He's naive, optimistic, and needy just like most young mechs, eager to trust and befriend, and some have decided he's "childlike" or even outright a child because of it. But make no mistake; he is an adult with an adult's mind.
Tailgate has an undiagnosed panic disorder that surfaces in stressful situations. Threat of violence, large groups of unknown, crowding people, and overly loud voices and noises are just a few things that can trigger it. When it is triggered, Tailgate is prone to panic attacks if he's not sufficiently calmed in time.
Tailgate is very loving and a bit of a hopeless romantic, and tends to see the best in people even when they can't see it themselves, and sometimes when it's not even there. This can be both a blessing and a curse. Friends are drawn to him for this very reason, but so are people who'd want to use him; because of it, he can't see harmful people coming until it's too late.
Weaponry:
- Absolutely nothing of note
History:
Tailgate was a well-born newspark born in the Golden Age of Cybertron, long before most mechas' living memory. As soon as he emerged, his bright blue spark was placed in the pre-made body of a waste disposal unit. His only job was to clean up after others with bright, happy optics (in lieu of a smile), and he was given to the owner of a renowned medical science facility in Iacon to heed his beck and call. For the first month or so of his life, he cleaned the living quarters' of his employer. But then a mech at the science facility was killed in an accident, and rather than find another mech, Tailgate was given their job cleaning the labs.
Tailgate was always so interested in the experiments they did at the facility. He read all the notes on every single one when they were left out at the end of the day, sometimes wishing that he could be a scientist, too, or maybe even a nurse. But his lot in life was what it was -- he cleaned the labs, and swept the halls, and sometimes a mech or two would say "hello" to him as they passed, and that was how it went for the first year that he lived. He didn't ask questions or make noise or a fuss if he could help it. He knew he was disposable.
The facility, meanwhile, had began work on a new kind of experimental cryostasis, designed to freeze mechs suffering from cybercrosis or other spark-related illness before the illness got too advanced, in the hopes that it would stall their deaths long enough for cures to be found. It was meant to freeze the spark without killing it, whereas more traditional kinds of stasis simply stopped the body and processor and left the spark alone.
The experiment, over and over again, proved to be a failure, and so it was abandoned. Tailgate came across it as he cleaned one day, and decided to investigate it. Unfortunately for him, the door closed behind him -- and even more unfortunate, that activated the stasis pod. The mechs around the building assumed he'd just run away; it wasn't unheard of. Tailgate, and the pod he was stored in, was forgotten about completely until the Great Exodus towards the middle of the Decepticon-Autobot war. The facility was cleaned out by a neutral party, things that looked important or valuable stashed on his ship, and Tailgate's stasis pod was one of them.
The neutral's ship was shot down by the Nemesis when it neared Earth a few million years later, and it crashed down in the middle of the New Mexico desert. During the crash, Tailgate's stasis pod fell out of the cargo hold, cracking open upon impact with Earth.
Both Decepticons and Autobots, once they checked their scanners, would notice a life signal with no known faction blipping into existence.
Roleplay/Writing Sample:
Outwardly, Optimus showed little to no sign of emotion, which was par the course. But Starscream had grown quite accustomed to picking up more subtle cues – the sound of fans raising in volume, the prick of an EM field, the slight, controlled waver in his tone, and the way his digits twitched, almost as if they were about to ball themselves into a fist. Immediately, Starscream felt his nerves advancing on him. The burst of heated anger was being replaced by a cold, creeping dread.
He was not safe. He was not safe. He was not safe he was–
The Seeker snarled, guttural and feral, talons leaving gauges in the metal in front of him. No. No. He wasn’t going to fall prey to that, not now.
“Then stop counting on the fact that the others will find you! At this rate, Optimus, they won’t. You’ve been doing nothing but holding your ground; if you want to advance in this war, you’re going to have to find different strategies and solutions to the problems set before you. This? This isn’t going to last. None of this is going to last. All of your luck has been just that – luck.”
The Seeker flicked a wing, optics narrowing. “You saw yourself how close I got to destroying your entire operation. You and Megatron may both be blind to a lot of things in regards to strategy, and he may be worse off without me there, even if he hardly listened to me in the first place, but he’s got the upper hand in nearly everything else. You say you’re hopeful.
“Hope does not win wars.”