Post by Karkat Vantas on Aug 15, 2012 0:42:09 GMT -5
Super Identity and Secret Identity: Karkat Vantas, also known as Cyclical, because he uses a sickle as a weapon and because "Cyclical" sounds awfully similar to "cynical."
Alliance: N/A - He's just pissed off at everyone.
Gender Preference: Male.
Age: 14.
Birthday: June 12th.
Personality: Karkat speaks in a manner that is almost exclusively ornery, all the time. He's impatient, shouty, and extremely crabby, on the Internet or otherwise. He's bitter as hell and generally thinks that society's a mess, people suck, altruism is a farce, etc.
But, really, he's a nice guy underneath everything. He really treasures any kindness shown to him. Friends always come first for him, and even though he berates them all the time, he really cares and is a big softie on the inside. His penchant for sappy romcoms can attest to that.
Generally, Karkat spends a lot of time indoors, making some money by filling amateur coding commissions. He's too embarrassed to go outdoors, given what he looks like. Embarrassed and afraid and bitter.
But he manages to interact okay with the mechanic lending him a room in the loft above the car garage. And he gets along fine with the people he chats with on the Internet. So it's a start.
Appearance: Gray skin. Candy corn nubby horns. Yellow nails and eyeballs, with dull red irises. Usually wears scruffy black sweatshirts. Wears hoodies when he has to go out to avoid drawing attention. Always has a scowl on. Always.
At a glance, Karkat is unnoticable -- just another sullen teenager, with hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched over. Most people ignore him, too busy with their own lives. But, if anybody actually paid attention, they'd probably be rather ... freaked out, to put it mildly. It sucks.
History: If you asked Karkat about what happened, he'd probably grumble and call it bad luck. And in a way, it was. He was born a normal kid, with normal looks and normal foster home jumping. He didn't mind; could always have been so much worse right? The families he stayed with were nice, even if he didn't feel like he fit in. School was alright, even though he got into fights all the time. But then came "the incident," which wasn't so much of an incident than his going to bed after his thirteen birthday, waking up, looking into the mirror, and screaming his newly-horned head off.
The doctors called it bad genes. Karkat just called it bad luck. Of course, he'd be the one who went to bed normal and woke up a freak because his stupid genes fucked up. Of course, he'd be the one whose genes weren't fucked up enough to give him cool powers. No, all he got was gray skin, horns, and disgust from the general public.
His foster parents dropped him. The orphanage turned him away. And all he was left with were the clothes on his back, forty bucks, a toothbrush, and a crappy computer. Oh, and an antique sickle he swiped off the orphanage; what would they do with it anyway? Karkat would put it to better use.
For a while, he roamed the streets of Townsville at night, assaulting the rich snobs who weren't cursed with being a Mutt. The sharp edge of the sickle seemed to be awfully persuasive. Karkat never took more than he needed, just a few bucks to snag a meal at a McDonald's or to buy a new t-shirt. But it was enough to earn him the nickname "Cyclical," which he actually thought was a pretty cool name considering ... he was only a petty thief.
Karkat's thievery came to an end when he ran into an open garage, with the police hot on his trail. The mechanic unexpectedly covered for him. It was a surprise. Even more surprising, the mechanic offered Karkat room and board. Maybe it was out of pity, but having a place to call home, however tentative, was a welcome thought.
For now, Karkat plans to lay low. He can't do much besides scare people and threaten them with violence, anyhow. But maybe his fucked-up genes'll kick in again and give him some powers. Maybe.
Secret Identity: Currently, Karkat's secret identity is his actual identity. The police have given up on finding him (there are more dangerous villains afoot), but he doesn't want to take any chances. Besides the police, he just doesn't want to draw too much attention. He's terrified of public scrutiny, after all. Laying low's the name of the game.
However, he helps out around the mechanic's garage sometimes and runs errands occasionally, but most of his time is spent hiding out in his room, chatting online and coding. He feels bad that he's basically mooching off the mechanic, so he's trying to repay the man as much as he can.
Power: None. All he's gotten from his Mutt genes are his weird-ass appearance and slightly improved night vision.
RP Sample: "I'll never let you go, Jack. I promise."
"YOU LYING FUCKER," Karkat screeched, wrapped up in a blanket, hands clutching a wad of tissues. "YOU'RE LETTING GO AS YOU'RE SAYING THAT, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU."
He jabbed a finger at the television, tears streaming down his face, imagining himself punching Rose in the face. Whose fucking bright idea was it to watch Titanic in the first place? He'd wanted to watch 50 First Dates, but noooo, Blockbuster didn't have that movie. Why not try this movie instead, they said. It's a classic, they said.
Karkat, who had been sitting upright with his knees to his chest, flopped over onto his side. The old leather of the couch creaked with the sudden impact, complaining even more as Karkat rolled over to face the ceiling. Frankly, he had stopped paying attention to the rest of the movie. He didn't give a shit anymore, especially after Jack had been left to drown. So stupid. Stupid movie. Stupid characters and a stupid plot. Ugh.
He stood up and popped the DVD back into its case, still sniffling quietly, before shuffling back into his room. Karkat sat down in the raggedy spinning chair, carefully arranging the blanket so the edges wouldn't catch in the wheels. The computer whirred and whined as it booted up. The brightness of the screen hurt Karkat's eyes, accustomed to the darkness of the television room. His tears dried on his face as he double-clicked Trollian, hoping someone would be online so he could rant to them about how stupid Titanic was, even though he'd liked the movie up until Jack died.
He sighed, scrubbing at his face with a corner of the blanket. Looked like twinArmageddons was online. Thank god. At least he hadn't been abandoned just yet.
Other: Hussie hasn't revealed Karkat's godtier powers yet, and I'm not too comfortable taking a crack at making some stuff up for the "Knight of Blood." So, uh, some of the stuff in this app is subject to change, depending on the way the Homestuck canon changes.
Feel free to give me any advice on making Karkat more ... involved in Townsville, hurrr. This is just kind of what came to mind as I thought about his character.
Password?: Clark Kent Superman Clark Kent Superman
Alliance: N/A - He's just pissed off at everyone.
Gender Preference: Male.
Age: 14.
Birthday: June 12th.
Personality: Karkat speaks in a manner that is almost exclusively ornery, all the time. He's impatient, shouty, and extremely crabby, on the Internet or otherwise. He's bitter as hell and generally thinks that society's a mess, people suck, altruism is a farce, etc.
But, really, he's a nice guy underneath everything. He really treasures any kindness shown to him. Friends always come first for him, and even though he berates them all the time, he really cares and is a big softie on the inside. His penchant for sappy romcoms can attest to that.
Generally, Karkat spends a lot of time indoors, making some money by filling amateur coding commissions. He's too embarrassed to go outdoors, given what he looks like. Embarrassed and afraid and bitter.
But he manages to interact okay with the mechanic lending him a room in the loft above the car garage. And he gets along fine with the people he chats with on the Internet. So it's a start.
Appearance: Gray skin. Candy corn nubby horns. Yellow nails and eyeballs, with dull red irises. Usually wears scruffy black sweatshirts. Wears hoodies when he has to go out to avoid drawing attention. Always has a scowl on. Always.
At a glance, Karkat is unnoticable -- just another sullen teenager, with hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched over. Most people ignore him, too busy with their own lives. But, if anybody actually paid attention, they'd probably be rather ... freaked out, to put it mildly. It sucks.
History: If you asked Karkat about what happened, he'd probably grumble and call it bad luck. And in a way, it was. He was born a normal kid, with normal looks and normal foster home jumping. He didn't mind; could always have been so much worse right? The families he stayed with were nice, even if he didn't feel like he fit in. School was alright, even though he got into fights all the time. But then came "the incident," which wasn't so much of an incident than his going to bed after his thirteen birthday, waking up, looking into the mirror, and screaming his newly-horned head off.
The doctors called it bad genes. Karkat just called it bad luck. Of course, he'd be the one who went to bed normal and woke up a freak because his stupid genes fucked up. Of course, he'd be the one whose genes weren't fucked up enough to give him cool powers. No, all he got was gray skin, horns, and disgust from the general public.
His foster parents dropped him. The orphanage turned him away. And all he was left with were the clothes on his back, forty bucks, a toothbrush, and a crappy computer. Oh, and an antique sickle he swiped off the orphanage; what would they do with it anyway? Karkat would put it to better use.
For a while, he roamed the streets of Townsville at night, assaulting the rich snobs who weren't cursed with being a Mutt. The sharp edge of the sickle seemed to be awfully persuasive. Karkat never took more than he needed, just a few bucks to snag a meal at a McDonald's or to buy a new t-shirt. But it was enough to earn him the nickname "Cyclical," which he actually thought was a pretty cool name considering ... he was only a petty thief.
Karkat's thievery came to an end when he ran into an open garage, with the police hot on his trail. The mechanic unexpectedly covered for him. It was a surprise. Even more surprising, the mechanic offered Karkat room and board. Maybe it was out of pity, but having a place to call home, however tentative, was a welcome thought.
For now, Karkat plans to lay low. He can't do much besides scare people and threaten them with violence, anyhow. But maybe his fucked-up genes'll kick in again and give him some powers. Maybe.
Secret Identity: Currently, Karkat's secret identity is his actual identity. The police have given up on finding him (there are more dangerous villains afoot), but he doesn't want to take any chances. Besides the police, he just doesn't want to draw too much attention. He's terrified of public scrutiny, after all. Laying low's the name of the game.
However, he helps out around the mechanic's garage sometimes and runs errands occasionally, but most of his time is spent hiding out in his room, chatting online and coding. He feels bad that he's basically mooching off the mechanic, so he's trying to repay the man as much as he can.
Power: None. All he's gotten from his Mutt genes are his weird-ass appearance and slightly improved night vision.
RP Sample: "I'll never let you go, Jack. I promise."
"YOU LYING FUCKER," Karkat screeched, wrapped up in a blanket, hands clutching a wad of tissues. "YOU'RE LETTING GO AS YOU'RE SAYING THAT, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU."
He jabbed a finger at the television, tears streaming down his face, imagining himself punching Rose in the face. Whose fucking bright idea was it to watch Titanic in the first place? He'd wanted to watch 50 First Dates, but noooo, Blockbuster didn't have that movie. Why not try this movie instead, they said. It's a classic, they said.
Karkat, who had been sitting upright with his knees to his chest, flopped over onto his side. The old leather of the couch creaked with the sudden impact, complaining even more as Karkat rolled over to face the ceiling. Frankly, he had stopped paying attention to the rest of the movie. He didn't give a shit anymore, especially after Jack had been left to drown. So stupid. Stupid movie. Stupid characters and a stupid plot. Ugh.
He stood up and popped the DVD back into its case, still sniffling quietly, before shuffling back into his room. Karkat sat down in the raggedy spinning chair, carefully arranging the blanket so the edges wouldn't catch in the wheels. The computer whirred and whined as it booted up. The brightness of the screen hurt Karkat's eyes, accustomed to the darkness of the television room. His tears dried on his face as he double-clicked Trollian, hoping someone would be online so he could rant to them about how stupid Titanic was, even though he'd liked the movie up until Jack died.
He sighed, scrubbing at his face with a corner of the blanket. Looked like twinArmageddons was online. Thank god. At least he hadn't been abandoned just yet.
Other: Hussie hasn't revealed Karkat's godtier powers yet, and I'm not too comfortable taking a crack at making some stuff up for the "Knight of Blood." So, uh, some of the stuff in this app is subject to change, depending on the way the Homestuck canon changes.
Feel free to give me any advice on making Karkat more ... involved in Townsville, hurrr. This is just kind of what came to mind as I thought about his character.
Password?: Clark Kent Superman Clark Kent Superman
