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Ruby City Mods ([personal profile] rubycitymods) wrote2012-01-13 01:45 pm
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APPLICATIONS


APPLICATIONS


Applications are processed weekly, every weekend. The cut-off time for the submission of applications is 11:59PST on Saturday.
✗ Before applying, please read the FAQ and Rules pages.
✗ Please submit your application with the journal you plan to use if you have one made already. If not, another journal is fine, but we prefer your intended journal so it makes for an easier time in granting access to the mod journal and the contacts page.
✗ For very long applications, we would ask you to please separate them into various comments so that they will not take up too much of the page.
✗ Please title your application as { [CANON/CANON OC/OC]CHARACTER NAME || Series Title || reserve/no reserve || X of X } in the subect header
IMPORTANT: Our application form was edited on September 07, 2015. Please use the revised form.
✗ If you are looking for an example of what an application should be like, please refer to the application here for an example of a canon character application, and here for an original character application.


✗ Canon Application



✗ Canon OC Application



✗ OC Application



A note for CR AU applications
Ruby City does allow previous game history/CR to be brought over on a case by case basis. If you want to include this in your application please add additional sections for PERSONALITY DEVELOPMENT and PREVIOUS GAME HISTORY beneath the Personality and Background/History sections.

In these additional sections we would like to see a brief outline of your character's previous game history and how it potentially impacted on and altered their canon personality.


✧ N A V I G A T I O N ✧

[CANON] Nathan Wallace / The Repo Man || Repo! the Genetic Opera || 3 of 3

[personal profile] athanklessjob 2013-04-04 04:30 pm (UTC)(link)
First Person: [The watch isn’t entirely unlike the communicators he’s used to, though compared to the device on his wrist, this new one seems a bit technologically lacking. His own watch appears to have been rendered useless, however, as though something inside of it has shorted out, meaning this supposed replacement is his only option. It only takes him a few moments to decipher which button does what, and when the video comes up, it shows a man who is both weary and incredibly tense, every facet of his expression and his body language marking him as being incredibly on edge.

He had been interrupted.]


I do not have time for this.

[His voice is low, terse, edging towards a guttural sort of growl. His Repo Man’s helmet is tucked beneath his arm, having removed it for the sole purpose of addressing the communicator, but the rest of the uniform is still there. It’s hard to escape the persona entirely when he’s still dressed for it.]

My daughter is in danger. I don’t know what this place is, or who’s responsible for bringing me here, but I will not stand for it. I cannot.

[Whoever did this? You’ve caught him at the worst possible time, and his hard, cold expression makes that abundantly clear. These are not idle words, and this is not the petulant foot-stomping of someone who doesn’t grasp the severity of the situation. It’s the cold, hard determination of a man who is dedicated to a cause, one you would be hard-pressed to convince him to abandon.]

I am not a man to be trifled with. I will have answers. I have unfinished business to attend to.

Third Person: He spent many of his evenings this way now: seated in the wide corridor that had come to serve as a shrine to his late wife, its walls lined with her photos, the veiled figure behind glass at the end of the hallway standing as a reminder of his failures both past and present. It was an opportunity to enjoy a few last quiet moments before he set about his night’s work – though perhaps “enjoy” was a term to be used loosely in this case. He removed his glasses, setting them on the table beside the armchair he had chosen to occupy, slumped halfway-down in the seat as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his right temple.

It was an exercise in futility, he knew. It was as if some part of him expected one of the many portraits here to cease simply being lifelike and actually come to life, to offer him advice, guidance on how best to right his wrongs, or perhaps benediction. His gaze turned upwards, towards the ceiling. He could hear Shilo moving about in her room. He would allow it for now, but if it didn’t die down before he left, he would have to intervene. Order her to rest. She had been so obedient once, glad to listen to his instructions, respecting him as both her doctor and her father, but time had changed her.

She was older now. She had questions. She was more willing to challenge him than she had once been. He had worked so hard to protect her from his life beyond these walls, to keep her from ever learning that her own father was the masked horror that so many had come to fear. It was getting harder to keep the secret. He could never tell her, but she was curious. She liked to explore. Even if he allowed such behavior in the confines of their house, it was too much of a risk. She was a smart girl. He was proud of her for that, among other things, but it also meant that she was well-equipped to piece together any clues she might find, no matter how small.

He sighed as he rose from his seat, reclaiming his glasses, turning towards the stairs and reaching to pull a ring of keys from his pocket. He would lock her in before he left. It was for her own good.

Everything he did was for her own good.