Ruby City Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rubycitymods) wrote2012-01-13 01:45 pm
rubycitymods) wrote2012-01-13 01:45 pm
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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.
Godot || Ace Attorney || Reserve
Name: Raile
Personal Journal:
E-mail: literatehyaena [at] yahoo [dot] com
AIM/MSN/etc: Railerat on both Plurk and AIM
CHARACTER
Name: Godot (Diego Armando)
Canon: Ace Attorney
Timeline: Post-canon
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: N/A
Personality: Godot is most easily described as a man of contradictions; both fiery in personality and temper yet cool in presentation and reception, he is simultaneously dedicated and laid back, serious and wry. It can be a bit much to take in at once, and he is described variably as a 'hot shot,' a 'mysterious man,' or just plain 'smug.' Each contains varying levels of truth, and he denies none of them. On first impression, Godot is a charming, suave, slightly sarcastic man. He exudes confidence and competence, and seems as comfortable with himself as is humanly possible; anyone who talks to him for any length of time, however, will find him not only snarky and idly self-deprecating but focused, dedicated--and possessed of a strange and unrelenting intensity. Despite his nonchalance when presented with difficulty, Godot is an obsessive, a man with a spark in his mind and a fire in his heart--a fire that has been dampened with 'age' and smothered by time, but a fire that smoulders deeply nonetheless, and his tired acceptance of his pending death has done only so much towards disguising it.
Death is a recurring theme for Godot; as a lawyer, of course, it is inevitable that death should enter the picture, but then a suspect witness slipped poison into his cup of coffee without his knowledge, and... well. He drank it. The damage to his body and central nervous system was devastating, and though they were eventually able to "bring him back from the dead," he was permanently altered by its effect. He lay in a coma for five long years. When he woke, he learned that Mia, the woman he loved, had been brutally murdered one year ago--and he himself would not live long without constant medical maintenance and supervision. His vision was completely ruined; the combination of poison and oxygen deprivation to the brain had left his optic nerves and visual cortex heavily afflicted. The visor he wears corrects this for the most part, although the colour red renders as white. Still, without it, he is completely blind.
Godot's sanity has been questioned more than once, and it's very possible that the poison, coma, and time in between affected his brain in more ways than one. Emotionally, Godot is not exactly volatile--in fact, with very few exceptions, Godot seems to have very few strong feelings at all; perhaps this is why he is so unflappable, so fearless, and--ultimately--so unmoved by the things that shock and touch the people around him. According to him, such things have been seared out of him by the depths and fires of hell or have atrophied during his five long years in a coma, and he makes no claim to great emotional capacity; in fact, it's quite the opposite--in canon, Godot has occasionally made claims of being unable to feel at all. This is hyperbole, however--Godot is demonstrably capable of both anger and love. His anger is easier for him to face: it burns, low and hot and bitter, and he can seethe with it... or, without warning, manifest a rage so violent, sudden, and rare that its outburst can silence an entire courtroom.
Re: Godot || Ace Attorney || Reserve
Threaded throughout all of this is a strange sort of self-awareness, an almost unsettlingly blase attitude towards death and life; he is familiar with the threads of fate and fortune, and speaks of them as one might an old friend... or an old foe. He doesn't seem terribly put out by his death or the tragedy of his life, but upon closer inspection, there will always be a thread of bitterness running through the length of his narrative--like the coffee he so loves, it is bitter and black.
The hell he speaks of having endured--while largely metaphorical--is nevertheless real enough, and is yet fuel for the fire that still burns untapped in his heart. At this point, though, he is simply waiting--his health is always a matter of tricky balance, pain takes its toll, and exhaustion drains a great deal of energy from his body. At 34, Godot is now waiting, more or less, to pass on and rejoin his love--Mia, who he failed; Mia, who he respects more than possibly even himself--in the afterlife.
Perhaps Ruby City will bring back the spark of life that he's been waiting for--poor substitute for the light of love, perhaps, but life, as they say, goes on.
And Godot has never been much of a quitter.
First Person: [Godot is positioned with his jaw resting on one fist, 'regarding' the screen seriously through the red lights of his visor. Once he's sure it's on, he removes his chin from his hand and sits back.]
I've been watching this whatever it is to find out what's going on around here, but it looks like no one's got the answer--just a lot of words, tossed around carelessly to hide your ignorance. The scent of desperation is so strong that I can smell it from here--sharp and bitter, like the blackest dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee.
So there is no answer. Fine!
When there's salt in your cup... you drink it down fast straight to the last drop--no matter how hot it may be!
[If you kept up this far, the next bit is going to sound like a nonsequiter--and maybe it is.]
I've just got one question:
What's the nearest good hospital?
Re: Godot || Ace Attorney || Reserve
But Godot was not a sane man. Patience was its own reward, but perdition had only left him wanting. The endless white tile of the ceiling and the steady beep of the ECG were the soul of tedium; the grit-laced aftertaste of loneliness left him tired. He was old. Worn out. The hollow emptiness that echoed inside him... the betrayal of his due... the burden of truth--his truth, the real truth... no. He was not sane. Not by a long shot.
He resented it. He felt cheated, bitter--a bitterness deeper than that harsh black brew--and his anger burned hot, searing what was left of his soul like the very flames of hell. This--the lifting of his sentence--was anything but a reprieve. This was no blessing. Death. A finish. At this point in his life, it was all he'd wanted, and he'd waited for it; just making it through the day was that day's goal, each day its own mundane ordeal. Enduring it was a long, tiring process, and he knew the next step--a step increasingly overdue--was death.
Mia. Death would be a relief. A release--into her arms, from the increasing pain and weariness of living. Living on. He didn't know if she was waiting for him, but he was waiting for her. His guilt, his anger, his contempt and all the blame he carried... this dead, shambling husk would be shed, and whatever happened next would happen as it did. The world after death would, if nothing else, have her there. But it wasn't his guilt he wanted to escape. His guilt would come with him, he knew--his purgatory and perdition, all of it. As it should be.
The burdens he carried he had brought on himself.
So he'd waited. And then, finally, it was his turn to go. They'd come to inform him of his fate the night before, as the law dictated; his surviving family (ha...!) would be told after the fact. The news was almost a relief. Was a relief. At last the waiting was over. He hadn't wanted to rush, eagerly, into the arms of death, but neither would he take his own life to get there. He knew better--it wasn't what she would have wanted, and death, for him--for everyone--must come naturally, or as naturally as a death like his could be. Should come naturally. He'd been patient. Waiting.
For her.
His fists clenched. The ill-kept machinery of his creaking body wearing down or the long drop and a short stop--either one would have been fine with him. But this... he grit his teeth, grinding them against the rising sense of having been cheated of what was rightfully his.
...rightfully his...?
The emotion drained out of him--slowly at first, then all at once the pot of stale brew was chugged down cold, extinguishing the inferno and reducing it to mere smouldering embers. He had no right to that--to lay claim to that kind of relief. Maybe living was his punishment--keep going, that was what he had been told to do. Keep going, just a little longer, a little longer...
He sighed, removing his visor in order to rub the bridge of his nose, feeling the deep ridge of the scar that ran across it.
Mia...
[ACCEPTED]
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