Post by jin on May 9, 2015 11:30:07 GMT 11
Name: Abbie Hoffman
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Trainer Type: Aggressive, determined Pokémon Master-in-Training
Hometown: Pewter City, Kanto
Abbie Hoffman was a ball of fire.
His hair was rust red and his cheeks were tan. His smile was explosive, and so were his eyes. He had firm muscle here and there, at all the dangerous places: on the backs of his legs and over his chest and arms. He had scars, too, on his back and on his knuckles and on his feet.
He was always, always smoking a cigarette.
He wore goggles, most of the time, and gloves, because they helped him move through caves and tunnels with deftness. He wore a heavy brown belt, and a heavy red and black flannel, and the leather satchel he carried bulged with the shapes of various metal objects. His boots were leather and they made a clopping sound with every step.
He was red, and dusty, and sweaty, most of the time. He was explosive, all the time: he hovered between chaotic happiness and abrupt, inexplicable meanness, and it showed in the depths of his brown eyes, even at that young age of 17.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 160 lbs
Scars: Minor, most noticably on his knuckles.
Piercings/Tattoos: None.
Attire: Flannel shirt, red and black; denim pants, black, worn but durable.
Accessories: Gloves (heavy, fur-padded, brown) and goggles (dirty, black leather strap).
Abbie Hoffman was a walking maelstrom. He was a bully, a poet, a leader, a fighter, a worker, and a rebel. He was a friend, and a brother, and occasionally a lover. He was whatever he felt like being on any given afternoon, but he was always burning with energy.
In the mornings, he was the most productive. He seemed to gather momentum as the sun reached its peak and he was driven by it; he was an unstoppable force in the mines, or in the marketplace, or in his gangs amongst the other children. He was loud and he was unafraid, unapologetic. By the evenings he lost most of his rage and came instead to drinking alone, finding solace in the cool black nights.
His strength was his lack of fear. This was his weakness, too: his rashness, his unthinking dedication to a single goal. He was an idealist, but a dangerous one. He was strong with his fists and he wasn't ashamed of proving it. He was vain, only in that he believed more in himself than anyone else he'd ever met, and he was vocal about his beliefs.
He was more volatile than anyone in Pewter City, and he burned, desperately, angrily.
Abbie watched his mother die when he was five years old. So did a lot of kids, surely, but Abbie watched his father killing her while she was holding a gun. He was certain they loved each other, and he was certain they both loved him, so he wasn't afraid.
He grew up with his father, after that. They didn't talk, regularly, but silence was companionship. He spent most of his time in the dusty, vibrant marketplace, from ages seven to about fourteen. There were other children there, who, like him, and accordingly because of him, spent all day in the marketplace when they could have been in school.
The marketplace was hot, constantly. It was brown, and it was large, and though the wares were shiny green vegetables it was unmistakably dirty. Children ran around the marketplace tents, or took up fort under one of the carts, and they created worlds for themselves.
Abbie Hoffman watched his mother die when he was five, because his dad was poor, and his debts were going to threaten his family. His mother wanted to save the family by killing him. His father wanted to save the family by staying alive, so he killed her instead.
Her diamonds, her jewelry, her dowry was worth more than the debt. Abbie's father was saved. He kept whatever jewelry was extraneous, and he locked it in a small box which he kept forever at his writing desk. Abbie, as a result, was never afraid of what parents could do, and understood that money meant everything, and that gold meant more.
The people of the marketplace were parents to the children that played there. Certain parents allowed their children to stay under the vegetable carts, or behind the tea stand in one case, while other parents hated the children and hit them as they ran past. Abbie wasn't afraid of what parents could do, so he felt more comfortable than a seven year old should, so he made the other boys afraid in turn. The mothers didn't like him, because he thought he could take anything from anyone, and he never worried. Some of the other children liked him because he thought he could take anything from anyone.
He became violent at age nine. He won his first fight, and his second one, and his third one, and his fourth one. He lost his fifth fight, but only because he was drunk and he was ambushed at age thirteen. He made enemies as easily and as quickly as he made friends. He was fire, from start to finish: he burned bright, and he brought people closer or he pushed them away.
He never did start high school. He was pushed through the earlier years, though some of his teachers protested in defiance. He started working at fourteen in the caves. He worked to create tunnels, just like his father had worked to harvest ore from the cavern walls. Now that the ore was depleted, the caves were transformed into highways and market roads. He worked hard and he worked fast. He was younger, but more motivated, than the veterans around him. They liked him because he worked hard and he worked fast. He inspired them, and they gave him drinks and cigars in kind. He worked with them, and they built gloriously wide tunnels because of it. His father was his boss, because his father was the foreman. Abbie respected his father, and resented his father, and understood his father, and didn't want to be his father.
The tunnel finished itself, with Abbie's help. A new road opened into an unexplored city. The road beckoned, and, accordingly, Abbie threw himself out of his home and out of the city he loved to uncover a life beyond his upbringing.
Goals:
- Evolve a Bulbasaur into a Venusaur
- Acquire enough money to buy a couple rock-type pokemon
- Get that first badge and then that second badge and then that third badge, etc
- Figure out what the hell home means and where it's at
Other Info: n/a
How did you find us?: Tyger's post on the Pokémon Legacy RPG
Application completed: [Y]
Disclaimer: Even though Abbie Hoffman is a real person, and is arguably an inspiration for this character, this character is not based off the person of the same name.
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Trainer Type: Aggressive, determined Pokémon Master-in-Training
Hometown: Pewter City, Kanto
Appearance:
Abbie Hoffman was a ball of fire.
His hair was rust red and his cheeks were tan. His smile was explosive, and so were his eyes. He had firm muscle here and there, at all the dangerous places: on the backs of his legs and over his chest and arms. He had scars, too, on his back and on his knuckles and on his feet.
He was always, always smoking a cigarette.
He wore goggles, most of the time, and gloves, because they helped him move through caves and tunnels with deftness. He wore a heavy brown belt, and a heavy red and black flannel, and the leather satchel he carried bulged with the shapes of various metal objects. His boots were leather and they made a clopping sound with every step.
He was red, and dusty, and sweaty, most of the time. He was explosive, all the time: he hovered between chaotic happiness and abrupt, inexplicable meanness, and it showed in the depths of his brown eyes, even at that young age of 17.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 160 lbs
Scars: Minor, most noticably on his knuckles.
Piercings/Tattoos: None.
Attire: Flannel shirt, red and black; denim pants, black, worn but durable.
Accessories: Gloves (heavy, fur-padded, brown) and goggles (dirty, black leather strap).
Personality:
Abbie Hoffman was a walking maelstrom. He was a bully, a poet, a leader, a fighter, a worker, and a rebel. He was a friend, and a brother, and occasionally a lover. He was whatever he felt like being on any given afternoon, but he was always burning with energy.
In the mornings, he was the most productive. He seemed to gather momentum as the sun reached its peak and he was driven by it; he was an unstoppable force in the mines, or in the marketplace, or in his gangs amongst the other children. He was loud and he was unafraid, unapologetic. By the evenings he lost most of his rage and came instead to drinking alone, finding solace in the cool black nights.
His strength was his lack of fear. This was his weakness, too: his rashness, his unthinking dedication to a single goal. He was an idealist, but a dangerous one. He was strong with his fists and he wasn't ashamed of proving it. He was vain, only in that he believed more in himself than anyone else he'd ever met, and he was vocal about his beliefs.
He was more volatile than anyone in Pewter City, and he burned, desperately, angrily.
History:
Abbie watched his mother die when he was five years old. So did a lot of kids, surely, but Abbie watched his father killing her while she was holding a gun. He was certain they loved each other, and he was certain they both loved him, so he wasn't afraid.
He grew up with his father, after that. They didn't talk, regularly, but silence was companionship. He spent most of his time in the dusty, vibrant marketplace, from ages seven to about fourteen. There were other children there, who, like him, and accordingly because of him, spent all day in the marketplace when they could have been in school.
The marketplace was hot, constantly. It was brown, and it was large, and though the wares were shiny green vegetables it was unmistakably dirty. Children ran around the marketplace tents, or took up fort under one of the carts, and they created worlds for themselves.
Abbie Hoffman watched his mother die when he was five, because his dad was poor, and his debts were going to threaten his family. His mother wanted to save the family by killing him. His father wanted to save the family by staying alive, so he killed her instead.
Her diamonds, her jewelry, her dowry was worth more than the debt. Abbie's father was saved. He kept whatever jewelry was extraneous, and he locked it in a small box which he kept forever at his writing desk. Abbie, as a result, was never afraid of what parents could do, and understood that money meant everything, and that gold meant more.
The people of the marketplace were parents to the children that played there. Certain parents allowed their children to stay under the vegetable carts, or behind the tea stand in one case, while other parents hated the children and hit them as they ran past. Abbie wasn't afraid of what parents could do, so he felt more comfortable than a seven year old should, so he made the other boys afraid in turn. The mothers didn't like him, because he thought he could take anything from anyone, and he never worried. Some of the other children liked him because he thought he could take anything from anyone.
He became violent at age nine. He won his first fight, and his second one, and his third one, and his fourth one. He lost his fifth fight, but only because he was drunk and he was ambushed at age thirteen. He made enemies as easily and as quickly as he made friends. He was fire, from start to finish: he burned bright, and he brought people closer or he pushed them away.
He never did start high school. He was pushed through the earlier years, though some of his teachers protested in defiance. He started working at fourteen in the caves. He worked to create tunnels, just like his father had worked to harvest ore from the cavern walls. Now that the ore was depleted, the caves were transformed into highways and market roads. He worked hard and he worked fast. He was younger, but more motivated, than the veterans around him. They liked him because he worked hard and he worked fast. He inspired them, and they gave him drinks and cigars in kind. He worked with them, and they built gloriously wide tunnels because of it. His father was his boss, because his father was the foreman. Abbie respected his father, and resented his father, and understood his father, and didn't want to be his father.
The tunnel finished itself, with Abbie's help. A new road opened into an unexplored city. The road beckoned, and, accordingly, Abbie threw himself out of his home and out of the city he loved to uncover a life beyond his upbringing.
Goals:
- Evolve a Bulbasaur into a Venusaur
- Acquire enough money to buy a couple rock-type pokemon
- Get that first badge and then that second badge and then that third badge, etc
- Figure out what the hell home means and where it's at
Other Info: n/a
How did you find us?: Tyger's post on the Pokémon Legacy RPG
Application completed: [Y]
Disclaimer: Even though Abbie Hoffman is a real person, and is arguably an inspiration for this character, this character is not based off the person of the same name.
