Byond ID: TrollerNoob
Marine Name (so we know who you are; if you play alien mostly, state that here): Masamune 'Nippon' Sanada
Name/Designation of the Synth Character you’re requesting to use (Follows common naming rules, and requires a first name with no last name): Omen
Examples of acceptable names: James, Mason, Xavier, Felix, Otto, Allan, Jessica
Examples of unacceptable names: Obama, Jesus, King, Dragon, Godly, Snyper, Circuits
Are you familiar with the Synthetic Programming and Guidelines (http://www.colonial-marines.com/viewtop ... 57&t=14417)?: Yes, I've extensively reviewed over the Synthetic Programming Guideline, and Jakk's guide.
Synthetic Character Story (An ADEQUATE description and story of your Synthetics actions and involvement in a previous mission onboard the Almayer):
► Show Spoiler
Dear Commander [REDACTED] of the Falling Falcon's USS ALMAYER,
Your vessel has been selected as a candidate to receive a Synthetic Operational unit to assist in your endeavors within the Tychon's Rift sector. The unit you will be receiving is an outdated, original generation model named Omen, boasting natural insulation and durable rubber skin. It's capable of performing almost any logistical, medical, engineering, or any other non-combat task required, though it is incapable of performing command duties. You will be responsible for any damage or other impairment to the synthetic unit.
Sincerely, USCM High Command
► Show Spoiler
{{Activation Protocol Activated}}
The faint, muffled sound of human-like voices could be heard on the exterior of the crate which contained the unit's being,
"Is this the robot thingy majig we were suppose to be gettin'? That's a big ass crate."
"Aye, that's it. Can't ya' read? Look at label. This is why you stop fuckin' ordering contraband. You know my ass almost got brigged by the CMP, right?"
"If the CO can have a pet cat, why can't we have pet cows? They come in crates, so the--"
"Open the damn box, CT..."
"Whatever you say, RO."
A slither of light pierced through the edge of the container's interior, as an iron bar with a hooked end worked to pry the crate open. The adhesive strips which fastened the hinges together were cut, and alas, the shipment's contents were revealed.
The RO and CT's field of view was immediately greeted by a pair of boots,
"Oh shit!"
"You put the fuckin' crate upside down!"
The upturned artificial being within the exposed container remained with its legs poised stiff in the air, while the crown of its head rested upon the floor. Its skin seemed oddly refined, yet ghastly and quite pale. It abruptly swings forward, colliding against the hardened ground with a resounding ping. A moment of silence followed the action, until it suddenly arose to its feet. Both the RO and CT flinched, briefly startled by the Synthetic's sudden movements, although the former quickly regained his composure,
".. You're so damn lucky ya' ain't break the damn thing. Anyways, lookin' at High Command's Supp--"
"What the FUCK is that shit?! It looks like a damn maintenance monster that some Delta marine drew!"
"..--Report, it's called--"
The Synthetic's head panned towards the RO, and its eyes fixated upon the Cargo Head's figure,
"Greetings, Ensign Bob Rowdy. I am Omen."
{{Loading Mission Log 1; LV-713; 06/17/2186}}
BOOM! A hail of dirt accompanied by several silver streaks of shrapnel shower the steel pannels of barricades which aligned the Forward Operating Base! Omen endures through the bombardment of debris, as a uniform gait across the vicinity brought him before the battered defense line. The Synthetic swiftly plucks a welder out of its pouch, and begins to melt miniature sheets of metal across the various holes and punctures across the barricade's frame.
Merely a few feet away from his being, a piercing wail erupted from a personnel in distress. There, a fatigued, weary man lay slouched up against a stack of sandbags. As Omen approached, the marine's condition was analyzed. A steady trail of sanguine poured out of a crudely blown-off left leg,
"M-MY LEG!"
Not far from the marine's location, remained a bloodied severed shank. Omen moves to retrieve the dismembered limb, and promptly returns to the marine's side,
"Greetings, Private Allen. Does this belong to you?"
"A-AM I GONNA' DIE?"
"Chances of death stands at an estimated 87.63%."
The male, now frantic and delusional, began to enter a panic attack -- what he saw standing before him was a pale, towering apparition which seemed almost lifeless.
"Heart rate drastically increased by 45%. Proposal: Remain calm."
Just then, another subtle whistle through the air preludes another enormous BANG! The shell collided against the earth yards from their location, yet the ensuing flurry of metallic pieces sent shrapnel scattering about the vicinity. PFC James Allen finds himself flung from the ground, consequently leading to a violent crash against the nearby wall. He slumps onto the floor, his eyes dead and lifeless.
Omen clambered back onto his feet, and made another bee-line towards the ruined cade line. He didn't escape unscathed, but his structural integrity remained at an adequate level. Yet, once again, the agonizing screams and moans of the injured mass tugged upon his priorities.
This time, another wounded male seemed to be perched up upon nearly destroyed reinforced table. His right arm was nearly severed by the elbow, and it only sought to remain attached by a thin strip of muscle and skin. The marine made a single glance towards the tall, emotionless figure currently drawing near, and immediately attempted to create distance.
"Greetings, Private Cliff. Are you feeling well?
PFC Ryan Cliff, unable to bear the excruciating amount of pain, simply collapses onto the ground,
"W-will I make it?"
Omen, pulling data from his earlier attempt of comfort, attempted a different approach. The usual poker-face he adorned shifted into a caring, almost too perfect, smile. He doesn't respond to the male, as he searched for a variety of first-aid items.
At least, not immediately. And even as he acted, that ever-loving smile stood present upon his visage,
"Chances of survival stands at an estimated 27.92%, steadily decreasing by ten second intervals." I intend to play Omen as a Synth who often takes things literally, ranging from something as simple as a particular slang used in marine banter, to rhetorical questions. This is mainly due to his outdated model, and thus, he answers every question honestly, bar those that are specifically retained for Command knowledge only. He also will attempt to use one experience he's had and apply it to another -- even if it doesn't necessarily has practical use. I'll mainly focus on whatever role is requested of me, as I think I can perform them all rather well.
How familiar are you with support roles? (ie; Medical, MT, Science, SO):
► Show Spoiler
Medical: After extensively playing doctor and Squad Medic, I'm quite comfortable in this field. I've fully memorized surgery, and medicine. I know the ins and outs of treating and defibbing those with enormous amounts of damage, and more. Though, I haven't managed to get too skilled at Chemistry, but I can create the standard ImiAlky, Dermaline, and other common chems medics ask for.
Engineering: I'm quite confident in this field, too. I've been playing Squad Engineer a lot recently. I know everything that will be needed of an Engineer -- how to fix reactors, APCs, deconstruct walls, move barricades, hack doors, etc.
Command: I do have SO experience, and I don't find it too difficult at all, but I will admit I haven't been playing Command Roles lately to focus on Medical and Engineering.
Requisitions: I think RO and CT is fairly self explanatory. Give out required attachments, request the required supplies, gather up crates for the extra points.
After playing Colonial Marines for several months, I've started to feel the need to, rather then continue shooting xenos on the front lines, help out the Engineer struggling with T-Comms or the FOB, or Medbay entering triage hell. There's often times in the round where I'm doing well in one role, but another role is having difficulties, and I can't do anything to assist them rather than LOOC, simply because I'm a Doctor and they're an MT, or I'm an Engineer and they're a Medic. Simply put, I want to fill in and get rid of salt towards roles that are clearly struggling. Generators aren't fixed? I can do it. T-Comms APC hasn't been fixed 15 minutes in? I can do it, just as examples.
Have you been banned from CM in the last month for any reason (we will check, and lies may result in immediate denial)?: Never.
Are you currently banned from any other servers and if so, why? Nope.
Do you understand that any player - donor or otherwise - can have their whitelist status revoked should they break our rules or the Synthetic Programming Guideline?: Yes.
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