CHUCK

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🧨 ID 🧨

Name: Chuck
Age: 32
Gender: Cis Male
Place of Origin: Earth (B-629 ARES)
Primary Class: Scout
Secondary Class: Mechanic

PERSONALITY PROFILE
+ Amusing, Confident, Protective, Entertaining +
- Oblivious , Short-tempered, Reckless -
= Rebellious, Blunt, Loud =A good example of a bad example. Chuck is the guy who runs mostly on his impulsive life choices, and it shows by how things can easily bite him back in his ass. It makes for a lot of fun life stories, but also a short life in general. But hey, long as he gets what he’s looking for, what’s the problem?__PHYSICAL PROFILE__
Height: 5’0 | 152 cm
Weight: 190 lbs | 86 kg
Blood type: O-
Appearance:
A heavy set man of a shorter stature. Wavy orange hair that segues into dyed red ends. A friendly face, containing visible mischief. Light Scarring from his chin up to sneaking up his cheek just enough to compliment the missing canine tooth he sports when he smiles.
Medical Notes:
• Miscellaneous scarring across body.
• Severely calloused hands caused from miscellaneous activities.
• Missing canine tooth
• Glowing veins along right arm
• Hard of Hearing, hearing aids required.Psychological Notes:
• Low impulse control evidenced by his reckless behavior.
• Poor coping mechanisms when responding to stress, leading poor decision making or combative reactions.
• Nicotine dependency apparent
• Difficulties sleeping with occasional night terrors.TRAITS:
[ATTACK] [DEFENSE] Mirror Effect: When defending, all damage received is reflected back onto the attacker for 1 round. Can be used up to 2 times. (Neutral)[ATTACK] [ACTION] Big Muscle: +3 to rolls when using strength (Neutral)[ATTACK] Uno reverse: This Scout can’t be surprised or caught off guard, and instead of the opponent getting to attack first, this Scout can roll to attack first. If their initial attack hits, they get a +2 to all rolls against this opponent. If they fail the opponents can attack as per normal.(Scout)[ATTACK] [ACTION] Smasher: +2 to all attacks using melee weapons; causes target to be stunned (Scout)[ATTACK] [STATUS] High morale: +3 until HP falls to 20 or below. This trait becomes unusable for the remainder of the event. (Scout)[DEFENSE] Heavy Metal: Cannot be damaged for 2 post rounds. [SINGLE USE] (Mechanic)

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HISTORY

TL;DR:Created within a Biodome, Chuck was clone assigned the title "C-D-012 ." He was created as an experimental Martian program, aiming to provide more helping hands for the biodomes on Earth. Upon created, Chuck was trained extensively to make sure he efficently did his job, knowing nothing else at the time.After training was completed, Chuck was sent to guard the outside of the Ares, where he made friends with two other clones from the same DNA donars as him. This was also where he witnessed one of his first friends shot, killed, then quickly replaced with another clone.This creates a sense of dread as he realize that he is a tool to be used.When the biodome is attacked again, Chuck quickly vanishes during the chaos, though not without injury. He then finds shelter in an nomadic group t called Road Runners.This is where he resides for sometime before coming to Salus in search of a missing person.

Extended History:Some people are born, while others are created.The clone knew he was the latter as his first memories were not of a mother or a father, but of scientists. Gloved hands pulled at his mouth to check his teeth, pulling at his lids to check his eyes, his weight, his muscles.Healthy gums. Check
A fair weight. Check
Muscular build. Check
20/20 vision. CheckSUBJECT C-D-012: SUCCESSFULThose who were created in Ares were treated closer to life stock more than that of an actual human being. Well, perhaps because that’s what he was.Born in a biodome, C-D-012 was one of the first experimental clones that Mars was testing. A program that was held strictly on Earth in order to avoid backlash that could have been experienced back on Mars. The point of the cloning was to provide warm bodies into jobs that might need to be filled immediately and quickly refilled if so needed. One job would be the guards of domes, especially those of the front line, the void C-D-012 was assigned to fill.He remembered. Not even a day after creation, Chuck was thrown into a bunker underneath the dome, where the training program for the clones was offered. He remembered seeing…so many people who looked the same. It was interesting to see! He never saw that before…well, he hadn’t seen plenty of things besides scientists and an underground bunker filled with identical people. However, curiosity had to wait as training started quickly and swiftly. The training was created to make sure those created for this job knew how to do it efficiently, and those who could not keep up were removed without a word. Whatever happened to the ones who couldn’t keep up was unknown, but the leaders have told the others that the defective simply ceased to exist. That statement alone taught one thing.They were expendable. If you couldn’t do your job, then they can always make someone else who could….Though, it wasn’t all bad.C-D-012 made friends to those similar to him…Well, exactly like him. Those who came from the same DNA as him. There were about two more within the underground bunker. Short, freckled gingers who all seemed a bit hot headed. The two named C-D-009 and C-D-017. Maybe it was because they were all identical to one another, they bonded pretty easily. After all, one of the basic needs of humans was companionship, and the sheltered clones were no different from that need.C-D-012 would remember at nights, when the clone's friends would converse when the trainers and scientists would go to bed. It was simple conversations as they didn’t have many experiences to talk about. About the first thing they saw after creation. About how training was going. About how to shorten their names. Nicknames! Though, at the time, they all called it small names, and they all got one. Nine, Seventeen, and Twelve. Creative.Thankfully, Twelve’s donor was already fit, giving him muscles and endurance that could help him keep up with other clones in training. Of course, he had to push himself beyond his limits, but he fucking did it. He proved he belonged there with the fittest, and it made him kind of proud honestly. A strange feeling, but welcomed nonetheless.After finishing training, Twelve was sent to his post almost immediately. No congratulations. No celebrating. All the sweet parts of life were simply cut out. Again, Twelve didn’t mind…much. He felt mostly nothing, a feeling that was the desired for clones. However, it felt hollow as well, something that was kinda countered when he figured out Nine and Seventeen was also at his guard post as well. Yay! Friends! Now, all three of them were sent on the outskirts of the dome, first line of defense alongside other soldiers and a guardian or two. Yeah, they made sure to be hunkered down when it came to security. Nothing was getting in nor out without some kind of confirmation.Still, being sent out in the blistering desert days and chilly desert nights wasn’t something that Twelve found to be a negative. It added to his experiences. The feeling of sand in between his fingers, cold chills from the night, heat beaming on his skull during the day. That’s where he figured out what tanlines were. It was…enjoyable! Perhaps, dare say, fun on occasions.He got to go out, he got to hang out with his friends. He got a taste of life outside the bunker, and a taste of what it meant to be more than just a tool to be used. Still, the feeling was forgein, and frowned upon my higher ups. So, he only continued to have little tastes of freedom when he went out. Never indulging. Quick little small talk with others. Little drawings in the sand. Things that were easy come and go in the big picture of things. Though, there would be a time when things could not be easily hidden.
There was an attack on the biodome. It was something the clones were born to deal with. It was something that they were trained themselves to prepare for. Born to handle, even. However when faced with harsh reality it's hard to predict how you will react. The threat was easily stomped by the soldiers, however, it didn’t come without minor casualties.A single death caused by a bullet in the neck. More specifically, Nine’s neck.There was something…daunting about looking at a friend's eyes, vacant and dead. Even more nerve wracking when you realize those are your own dead eyes staring vacantly back at you. Accompanied with the strong metallic scent of blood mixed grotesquely in an overwhelming scent of gunpowder.This was what he was created to do. To serve and protect this dome that never saw him more than just a battery to be replaced when it died. That’s what happened to Nine. Another set of clones were ordered to take the body away. Taken wherever throw-aways were sent after their job was done. Then, a few days later, Nine was back! Or, no, another clone from the same donor was back to be exact. This clone war factory reset, not acknowledging Twelve or Seventeen. As if they were irrelevant to the grand plan, and they were.It simply caused strange feels to bubble when the face you grown to care for gets riddled in blood one moment, then staring at you with zero fucks in the world. It even brought the question to Twelve and Seventeen when they thought about it.Is that going to happen to me?Some people can cope with that better than others. Twelve could cover up his dread, internalizing it as it became one of the only things that he thought about while on the job. Seventeen, on the other hand, couldn’t handle the unknown and dread that came with living such a life. It started to deteriorate Seventeen’s mental state, causing him to become more distressed and less focused. It became noticeable to higher ups after Seventeen had a mental breakdown while on duty. He needed help to deal with the grief that came with witnessing a friend’s death and somebody to help him deal with the internal turmoil. Therapy or something. Twelve hoped the other clone got that, considering he was swiftly taken back into the dome during the breakdown. However, Seventeen wasn’t seen ever after that, only another clone that was even more work focused.Leaving Twelve alone to deal with the knowledge and trauma of what being a clone soldier meant.He didn’t want this anymore. He didn’t want to just stand there, waiting for the moment he was killed and shoved aside as lesser. There had to be something more to this existence. He wasn’t sure what, but there had to be. He hoped so fucking bad that there was something beyond the horizon. He just needed one chance to get out there. One opening, and he promised himself that he would take that one.And life took him on that promise.The humans who had attacked the dome beforehand? Well, they came back with a vengeance. More earthlings. More gun power. It wasn’t clear if they were looking to avenge the fallen or to obtain the secrets within the dome, and Twelve didn’t fucking care. When faced with another wave of death staring him in the eyes, he knew he did not want this. He did not want to die for this. Not for a cause that he did not understand, but simply created as fodder within it.So, during that stand off, Twelve slipped out during the chaos, carrying a bullet wound or two during the battle. He only looked back once, the sight of humans and clones sharing the same fate of death.If Twelve didn’t feel alone before, he sure felt it now. A clone wandering the desert, licking his wounds and his tail between his legs. He didn’t know where to go, nor what to do with himself at that point. He wandered for a while until he found a camp in the distance…and people. He could tell people were there as he could hear the rumble of engines and the smell of smoke. Though it wasn’t the smell of gunpowder, but something else. He figured out later he was smelling gasoline. Which made sense. The settlement he ran into was known as Road Runners.They were kind enough to take care of his wounds, and wise enough to grill him in where the fuck he came from. He didn’t dress like an Earthling. Chuck was dressed as a soldier, so there was no getting around that bit of information. Chuck didn’t even try to, resenting the dome he originated from. Which also taught him a new thing he didn’t realize while being in the dome.Being a clone ain’t normal, buddy.Neither is that number name that he had.Fast forward some time, Chuck was part of the Road Runners and adapted pretty well. He was just a natural troublemaker when he could actually properly express himself. He abandoned the martian get up for something that helped him blend in more, doing his best to forget his origins…which was easy as long as he kept himself distracted.And a good distraction is picking up the sorry bastard who crashed his car near Salus.

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Miscellaneous

Additional special training or skills:
Combat Training
Making Recorders out of Carrots. (Gotta use mechanic skills somewhere there-)
Face paintingEquipment & Weaponry:
Spiked GuitarInteresting Facts:
Has a split tongue. He was going to try doing it himself with some fish hook, but was immediately redirected to someone who knew what the hell they were doing.
Created on April 1st
Once married someone on a dare, then promptly got divorced a week or two later.
Tends to star gaze often on nights he can't sleep. Sitting in the desert sand, looking up at the night sky is a great source of nostalgia.
Likes:
Body modifications, 1980-90s American culture, Clowns, Anything Horror, Spiked AccessoriesDislikes:
Being talked over, Formal wear, Quietness, Slow Pacing, Being idle, Self ReflectionHANDLER
Discord ID: Lazerus🩸#2400
Preferred Name: Laze
Pronouns: Any | All
RP Style Preferences: LitFun fact: I keep fucking up colors beyond comprehension so here's Chuck's flats. https://i.gyazo.com/97efd5d9cd31bb2f9f9ba4a318e83395.png