✖ application @ ataraxion

P L A Y E R I N F O R M A T I O N
Your Name: Rev
OOC Journal: thisfffire
Under 18? If yes, what is your age?: Over 18
Email + IM: rnwashburn(at)gmail(dot)com
Characters Played at Ataraxion: Rey (circumitus), Murphy Pendleton (yardbird)

C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N
Name: Alexander Wolfgang
Canon: Original Novel
Original or Alternate Universe: Original
Canon Point: Towards the beginning of the third novel, after watching Jerusalem Kavar die.
Number: 111

Setting:

Here!

History:

Here!

Personality + Appearance + Abilities, Weaknesses and Power Limitations:

Here!

Inventory:

- (5) 20 pack of cigarettes
- (1) zippo
- (1) butterfly knife
- (1) denim jacket
- (5) turtlenecks (each of them either black or blue)
- (4) jeans
- (2) pairs of running shoes
- (1) acoustic guitar

Age: 35

AU Clarification:

S A M P L E S
Log Sample:

In layman's terms, the chaos theory would basically be a random, impossibly unpredictable happening that couldn't be precedent in any way. There was all this complicated and mathematical shit that his professor babbled on about back in college, but Alexander got a better idea on the theory from his own experience.

There was this girl Alexander knew back in high school. Sweet girl, nice ass. Lousy in bed. One time she told him that, while walking on her way home from the bus stop, she wound up getting hit by lightning. She stumbled, picked up her bag, and started running, when she was hit by yet another bolt of lightning. Staggering towards the last block home, a third bolt hit her. Hell, what Alexander wouldn't give to be struck by lightning only once, just to know what it felt like... but no. Not only that, but when this girl, she went to have herself checked out at the hospital, and as it turned out, the one they assigned her to was a Dr. Struck.

If there were such a thing as Fate, bet she'd be fuckin' laughin' her ass off at that one.

Alexander coughed, which could have been easily mistaken for being a scoff.

All right, all right. So a better example would be that that same girl died six months later. But not from the aftermath of having been struck by lightning three times. No sir. Imagine she was out taking the trash while in an alleyway when, unexpectedly, her bracelet falls off, rolling behind the dumpster. Cursing and spitting at her dumb luck, she squeezes behind the dumpster. In that unanticipated moment, a drunk driver comes by while the girl is scuffling sideways between the building. Taps the dumpster. Just barely. But enough that two thousand pounds pushed the weight of the five hundred fuckin' jaws of death, crushed that poor girl's spine. She falls over and tumbles into the mouth, into a pile of garbage, so that when the cops came to the scene they were investigating a murder and not some poor bitch having the worst fuckin' day of her life.

Now, imagine this: The odds of some guy like him, just another fucked up average steck, landing himself up on a sentient spaceship. That wasn't something anyone could anticipate, except that Alexander happened to be a steck that was a magnet to these kinds of fucked up things. He just couldn't get away. Story of his life.

"'Kay, so, for the sake of the argument, let's just say for this one fuckin' moment that I'm not actually sleep this time."

Talking to himself. That was a surefire way of proving his sanity.

Comms Sample:

[The sound of a tired voice can be heard. For a guy who sounds like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in quite some time, Alexander can actually sleep through a goddamn war outside his window.

[Muttering under his breath, he barely glances at some of the time that he’s already missed; strangely to him, there is just so much to catch up on! Who would've thunk’it?]

“Huh. Ssso, er.”

[Headscratch. That same southern accent suddenly speaks quizzically:]

“What’s all this fuss ‘bout?”

[Missed. Fucking. Everything.]