Tailgate
Sept 3, 2014 10:36:41 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 3, 2014 10:36:41 GMT -5
-Player Info-
Name/Alias: Amanra
IM/Email: future_astronaut@aol.com
Age: 19
Where did you find us?: Google search
-Character Info-
Name: Tailgate
Age (or human equivalent): Early 20s
Gender (or human equivalent): Male
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Autobot
Original Occupation: Waste Disposal
Occupation/Specialization:Bomb disposing metaphysics and epistemology prodigy Scout
Appearance/Altmode: Roughly Arcee’s height, a tad taller. He is rather skinny in build, with dainty legs and a thick center. It is obvious his chassis has undergone a heavy work load over the eons, as his appearance is a tad rugged and worn. Tailgate’s optics and mouth are hidden behind a visor and mouth plate. Since his optics and mouth are hidden, he can darken or brighten the his optical lights in order to show emotion. His color scheme consists mostly of white with a sky blue accent. On his left arm are thick, bold letters stating “WASTE DISPOSAL”. However, the “waste” part has been blown off , apparent by scratching and wear marks. In its place is now the word “BOMB”, freshly written on a damaged plate. The word “disposal” is slightly faded. His altmode is a white and blue 2014 Nissan 370Z.
History: Tailgate was sparked at the end of the Cybertronian Golden Age as an expendable and unimportant waste disposal unit. From the moment he was sparked, he had been put to work cleaning and maintaining the extensive sewage systems of large vessels. Because of the rigid caste system in place, Tailgate could do nothing to rise above his pre-ordained position in life. Every day was a chore, arduous, and monotonous. Tailgate was barely out of waste disposal training when he was assigned to his permanent station: An exploration star ship due to explore distant solar systems for energon. Of course, Tailgate would never see the splendors of interstellar travel. He would be eternally stuck in the ship’s underbelly, scraping muck and tightening screws so the waste system would stay pristine. Tailgate loathed his job with all his might, only doing the work because it was the only (if, mediocre) thing in his life that gave him meaning. Yet, Tailgate would not be working for much longer.
The ship had barely begun its venture into interstellar space when something went disastrously amiss. The space bridge that the vessel had travelled through underwent a catastrophic malfunction. Through some unfortunate coincidence, solar radiation from a very distant supernova had finally reached the bridge, contorting the space bridge’s portal. As the ship entered the vessel it was randomly jettisoned into a strange void in between space and time. The ship was ripped apart by the sudden teleportation. As quickly as it entered this void, the now scattered sections were once again teleported throughout the cosmos. Tailgate had been in the tail end of the ship as it splintered away from the main body, shooting off into oblivion. Eventually the ship piece phased back into Tailgate’s reality…only unbeknownst to him, 6 million years in the future. Tailgate’s chronometer had been damaged in the accident (as well as most of his chassis) and was unable to inform the bot of the sudden time jump. Ignorant to this, the bot hopped on one of the only functional escape pods and drifted aimlessly through space as he tried to activate a distress signal. To his unimaginable luck the bot picked up a transmission. It was close, relatively speaking on the cosmic scale, and someone named “Optimus Prime” was hailing “Autobots” to some backwater planet. Though he knew nothing of this Prime and whatever the heck an Autobot was, Tailgate deduced from the signal it was indeed Cybertronian. Punching in the coordinates, the damaged bot’s pod sped towards the planet…Earth.
Personality: Tailgate is genuinely a good at spark, kind, and gentle bot. However, he is plagued with a constant feeling of worthlessness and being a “nobody”. This nagging doubt that he is a waste of space and that no one likes him, make him seek attention and the approval of others. Tailgate does this by spinning tales of grandeur and bravery about himself that no one can (usually) disprove as they were not of his time. This makes Tailgate seem naïve, narcissistic, and a braggart at times. He's unfocused, easily distracted and easily led. Tailgate is also susceptible to impulsive behaviors and irrational obsessions. These obsessions can take hold suddenly, last days or years at times. And Tailgate gets rather testy if anyone tries to stop him. But Tailgate is just a lonely soul in search of good friends, and finally being recognized as someone worthy of living.
Likes: Jokes, parties, good friends, being the hero, attention
Dislikes: Hard work, math, being looked down on, missing out on the action
Strengths/Weapons:
o Tailgate may be small, but this is an advantage in battle since most bots are larger than him. He’s nimble, swift, and agile. While he cannot fight well, his ability to dodge and parry are above average. This is his greatest asset in a fight.
o The small bot is a charismatic master. His charm can persuade almost anybot into believing his grandiose tales of his time in the Golden Age. He treasures his skills with words the most, and as heroic as he is, he knows his combat weakness. He would rather talk an enemy to death than fight if he could.
o Tailgate is highly creative at solving problems, and can be resourceful when he needs be. Though at times he can be naïve, he is smarter than he credits himself with. Tailgate can usually worm his way out of most situations, be it with words or actions.
Weaknesses:
o Tailgate was never built with combat in mind. Therefore, he is smaller than most bots as well as weaker. His light frame has weak armor and is susceptible to heavy blows or sharp weapons. A large bot could potentially pick him up and toss him if they wanted.
o Tailgate has very low self-esteem. He tries his best to garner attention and make friends in order to be viewed as a popular, happy-go-lucky mech. Due to this, Tailgate will make extravagant lies and preposterous tales to impress others. Should anyone pick up a lie or point him out on one, he will shrink away to a shy, embarrassed bot. Insulting him during battle is a surefire way of distracting him.
o The weapons Tailgate possess are not the greatest. A standard Cybertronian assault rifle is handy, but can’t inflict severe damage on combat oriented bots. What little hand to hand combat he knows is also lesser than that of more experienced bots.
Extra Info: Due to his prolonged chronological age, Tailgate is on the road to contracting cybercrosis. It will eventually arise, but it is unknown when.
Sample RP (only for first accepted characters):
Tailgate’s job sucked. A lot. And sadly, there was no way out of it. He was built for this. To pursue any other goal in life would be a perversion of all that Cybertronian culture stood for.
The small bot shambled down the rancid sewer hold. The star ship he was currently employed on was so massive, it had needed its own sewage system to recycle all the waste. An unfortunate Tailgate had been constructed solely to work here. An amalgam of pipes shuttered and hissed as their icky contents rushed through them.
Primus, I hope they don’t start leaking again. Tailgate thought glumly. That was something I never want to re-live. The white and blue bot shuddered as he recoiled at the thought. As the corridor narrowed, the bot placed a hand on the sticky walls in order to brace himself should he slip on something nasty. Tailgate glanced to his arm. Bold, rigid lettering on his arm labeled him with his place in the universe.
“Waste Disposal”
Tailgate hated that label more than his job. Solely because it meant he had no way out of this wretched positon. Should he ever be lucky enough to venture above the sewage systems, he would looked down upon. Those snobs on the upper decks probably could not even comprehend his filth being in there presence. As if he would ever be allowed on the upper decks anyway. He probably smelled too much for their sensitive olfaction nodes.
“Ooh, look at me. I work on the upper decks, I don’t have time for the smelly ones. Someone fetch me the acid, I need to purge my optics of visual schmutz!” Tailgate mocked in a fake falsetto, waving his servos around in exasperated motions. The bot jokingly fanned himself with a hand and widened his optics as if he were repulsed. The merriment soon dissolved back into resentment as his expression turned dark once more. In a fit of anger, he kicked a nearby pipe quite forcefully.
“Stupid, upper class, snooty, rust munching, sons of-“ Tailgate had been grumbling off a string of insults when the pipe he had kicked suddenly began to hiss. Just as Tailgate stopped in startled awe, the pipe burst, releasing a stream of slimy grossness.
Straight into the bot’s face.
“Argh! Mphlrkrbrukphlrp!” Tailgate squealed as the lime green fluid bombarded his face plate. His arms thrust out in panic, plugging his fingers into the hole to stem the flow. Miraculously it worked. After a brief struggling with some tools, Tailgate managed to reseal the hole, albeit poorly. Now it only trickled a drop of the fluid every few seconds. Tailgate huffed in agitation. Nothing was going right. With a heavy thud, he braced himself against the wall in defeat.
“Frag my life.” He whimpered pitifully. Tailgate bumped his head against the wall in frustration and groaned. A pipe above him began to rattle. Tailgate looked up.
“Go ahead, I know you want to…” He declared melancholically.
The pipe burst, showering him in another deluge of liquid.
Name/Alias: Amanra
IM/Email: future_astronaut@aol.com
Age: 19
Where did you find us?: Google search
-Character Info-
Name: Tailgate
Age (or human equivalent): Early 20s
Gender (or human equivalent): Male
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Autobot
Original Occupation: Waste Disposal
Occupation/Specialization:
Appearance/Altmode: Roughly Arcee’s height, a tad taller. He is rather skinny in build, with dainty legs and a thick center. It is obvious his chassis has undergone a heavy work load over the eons, as his appearance is a tad rugged and worn. Tailgate’s optics and mouth are hidden behind a visor and mouth plate. Since his optics and mouth are hidden, he can darken or brighten the his optical lights in order to show emotion. His color scheme consists mostly of white with a sky blue accent. On his left arm are thick, bold letters stating “WASTE DISPOSAL”. However, the “waste” part has been blown off , apparent by scratching and wear marks. In its place is now the word “BOMB”, freshly written on a damaged plate. The word “disposal” is slightly faded. His altmode is a white and blue 2014 Nissan 370Z.
History: Tailgate was sparked at the end of the Cybertronian Golden Age as an expendable and unimportant waste disposal unit. From the moment he was sparked, he had been put to work cleaning and maintaining the extensive sewage systems of large vessels. Because of the rigid caste system in place, Tailgate could do nothing to rise above his pre-ordained position in life. Every day was a chore, arduous, and monotonous. Tailgate was barely out of waste disposal training when he was assigned to his permanent station: An exploration star ship due to explore distant solar systems for energon. Of course, Tailgate would never see the splendors of interstellar travel. He would be eternally stuck in the ship’s underbelly, scraping muck and tightening screws so the waste system would stay pristine. Tailgate loathed his job with all his might, only doing the work because it was the only (if, mediocre) thing in his life that gave him meaning. Yet, Tailgate would not be working for much longer.
The ship had barely begun its venture into interstellar space when something went disastrously amiss. The space bridge that the vessel had travelled through underwent a catastrophic malfunction. Through some unfortunate coincidence, solar radiation from a very distant supernova had finally reached the bridge, contorting the space bridge’s portal. As the ship entered the vessel it was randomly jettisoned into a strange void in between space and time. The ship was ripped apart by the sudden teleportation. As quickly as it entered this void, the now scattered sections were once again teleported throughout the cosmos. Tailgate had been in the tail end of the ship as it splintered away from the main body, shooting off into oblivion. Eventually the ship piece phased back into Tailgate’s reality…only unbeknownst to him, 6 million years in the future. Tailgate’s chronometer had been damaged in the accident (as well as most of his chassis) and was unable to inform the bot of the sudden time jump. Ignorant to this, the bot hopped on one of the only functional escape pods and drifted aimlessly through space as he tried to activate a distress signal. To his unimaginable luck the bot picked up a transmission. It was close, relatively speaking on the cosmic scale, and someone named “Optimus Prime” was hailing “Autobots” to some backwater planet. Though he knew nothing of this Prime and whatever the heck an Autobot was, Tailgate deduced from the signal it was indeed Cybertronian. Punching in the coordinates, the damaged bot’s pod sped towards the planet…Earth.
Personality: Tailgate is genuinely a good at spark, kind, and gentle bot. However, he is plagued with a constant feeling of worthlessness and being a “nobody”. This nagging doubt that he is a waste of space and that no one likes him, make him seek attention and the approval of others. Tailgate does this by spinning tales of grandeur and bravery about himself that no one can (usually) disprove as they were not of his time. This makes Tailgate seem naïve, narcissistic, and a braggart at times. He's unfocused, easily distracted and easily led. Tailgate is also susceptible to impulsive behaviors and irrational obsessions. These obsessions can take hold suddenly, last days or years at times. And Tailgate gets rather testy if anyone tries to stop him. But Tailgate is just a lonely soul in search of good friends, and finally being recognized as someone worthy of living.
Likes: Jokes, parties, good friends, being the hero, attention
Dislikes: Hard work, math, being looked down on, missing out on the action
Strengths/Weapons:
o Tailgate may be small, but this is an advantage in battle since most bots are larger than him. He’s nimble, swift, and agile. While he cannot fight well, his ability to dodge and parry are above average. This is his greatest asset in a fight.
o The small bot is a charismatic master. His charm can persuade almost anybot into believing his grandiose tales of his time in the Golden Age. He treasures his skills with words the most, and as heroic as he is, he knows his combat weakness. He would rather talk an enemy to death than fight if he could.
o Tailgate is highly creative at solving problems, and can be resourceful when he needs be. Though at times he can be naïve, he is smarter than he credits himself with. Tailgate can usually worm his way out of most situations, be it with words or actions.
Weaknesses:
o Tailgate was never built with combat in mind. Therefore, he is smaller than most bots as well as weaker. His light frame has weak armor and is susceptible to heavy blows or sharp weapons. A large bot could potentially pick him up and toss him if they wanted.
o Tailgate has very low self-esteem. He tries his best to garner attention and make friends in order to be viewed as a popular, happy-go-lucky mech. Due to this, Tailgate will make extravagant lies and preposterous tales to impress others. Should anyone pick up a lie or point him out on one, he will shrink away to a shy, embarrassed bot. Insulting him during battle is a surefire way of distracting him.
o The weapons Tailgate possess are not the greatest. A standard Cybertronian assault rifle is handy, but can’t inflict severe damage on combat oriented bots. What little hand to hand combat he knows is also lesser than that of more experienced bots.
Extra Info: Due to his prolonged chronological age, Tailgate is on the road to contracting cybercrosis. It will eventually arise, but it is unknown when.
Sample RP (only for first accepted characters):
Tailgate’s job sucked. A lot. And sadly, there was no way out of it. He was built for this. To pursue any other goal in life would be a perversion of all that Cybertronian culture stood for.
The small bot shambled down the rancid sewer hold. The star ship he was currently employed on was so massive, it had needed its own sewage system to recycle all the waste. An unfortunate Tailgate had been constructed solely to work here. An amalgam of pipes shuttered and hissed as their icky contents rushed through them.
Primus, I hope they don’t start leaking again. Tailgate thought glumly. That was something I never want to re-live. The white and blue bot shuddered as he recoiled at the thought. As the corridor narrowed, the bot placed a hand on the sticky walls in order to brace himself should he slip on something nasty. Tailgate glanced to his arm. Bold, rigid lettering on his arm labeled him with his place in the universe.
“Waste Disposal”
Tailgate hated that label more than his job. Solely because it meant he had no way out of this wretched positon. Should he ever be lucky enough to venture above the sewage systems, he would looked down upon. Those snobs on the upper decks probably could not even comprehend his filth being in there presence. As if he would ever be allowed on the upper decks anyway. He probably smelled too much for their sensitive olfaction nodes.
“Ooh, look at me. I work on the upper decks, I don’t have time for the smelly ones. Someone fetch me the acid, I need to purge my optics of visual schmutz!” Tailgate mocked in a fake falsetto, waving his servos around in exasperated motions. The bot jokingly fanned himself with a hand and widened his optics as if he were repulsed. The merriment soon dissolved back into resentment as his expression turned dark once more. In a fit of anger, he kicked a nearby pipe quite forcefully.
“Stupid, upper class, snooty, rust munching, sons of-“ Tailgate had been grumbling off a string of insults when the pipe he had kicked suddenly began to hiss. Just as Tailgate stopped in startled awe, the pipe burst, releasing a stream of slimy grossness.
Straight into the bot’s face.
“Argh! Mphlrkrbrukphlrp!” Tailgate squealed as the lime green fluid bombarded his face plate. His arms thrust out in panic, plugging his fingers into the hole to stem the flow. Miraculously it worked. After a brief struggling with some tools, Tailgate managed to reseal the hole, albeit poorly. Now it only trickled a drop of the fluid every few seconds. Tailgate huffed in agitation. Nothing was going right. With a heavy thud, he braced himself against the wall in defeat.
“Frag my life.” He whimpered pitifully. Tailgate bumped his head against the wall in frustration and groaned. A pipe above him began to rattle. Tailgate looked up.
“Go ahead, I know you want to…” He declared melancholically.
The pipe burst, showering him in another deluge of liquid.