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Regrets
((Everett Taylor continued from Dude, how come I feel like i'm not in Kansas anymore?))

Everett was attempting to puzzle how he had managed to get ahead of his traveling companion on his way down the mountain. It had not been a conscious process. If anything, he'd tried to keep them close together. And yet, here he was. Wandering through the stumps of what had once been a part of the forest which stretched across the island, Josh somewhere behind him. It was disconcerting, the emptiness. It offered good visibility, but that was about it. It was difficult to pay much attention to his surroundings. They were too homogeneous. He kept spacing out, stepping back into his head. It was all that made the walking tolerable. His feet hurt. His shoes were not designed for heavy activity. He felt like, if he stopped, he'd never be able to get up again.

The situation he was in was starting to become a more manageable concept. It was possible to accept that people were actually dying. That wasn't so scary. People died all the time. It was a very rare day when he didn't hear about some death or another on the news or in the paper. Car crashes. Drownings. Exposure. So many deadly things in the world. He'd even had a classmate die before. Back in middle school, a girl a grade older than him had killed herself with pills. The school had sent home a letter explaining, offering psychological counseling to anyone who needed it. Everett had not. She had not been one of his friends, or someone he had known. He had seen her in the hall for a long time, and then, suddenly, he hadn't seen her anymore. It was not so different from when his neighbors moved to California.

Only now, it wasn't one girl who would be gone. It was everyone. Everyone Everett had spent any time with over the past few years, excepting those lucky few who were absent from the trip for various reasons. It was insane, but just for a moment, he found himself envying Monty Pondsworth. The rumor around school was that the bully had landed in jail. The world was being kept safe from him, and, in a twist of fate, he had been kept safe from the world.

Then, what about those who had stayed behind by choice? Or who had fallen ill? What would the school do? Everett calculated the dates in his head. He wasn't sure, but graduation had to be coming up in the next week or so. Would the ceremony still be held? Who would be appointed valedictorian? He had always dreamed of that title, though it had never been within reach. Now, it was quite possible, given that failing was one of the reasons for being held off the trip, that the honor would go to someone with a 1.9 GPA or something equally awful. Of course, that was assuming anybody would graduate. It was more likely school would be closed, counseling offered. All the lower classes would suddenly not be seeing the Seniors again. Of course, they'd been ready for that, just for different reasons.

And the surviving teachers? What about them? Was Principal Kendrick watching the broadcast? Was he agonizing over each person hurt? Did he have a secret favorite, some student he'd always liked just that tiny bit more than the others, who he was pulling for? Or was he in jail, or therapy, or dead? Suicide wouldn't have been unimaginable, given the circumstances. Everett hoped he was fine. He hoped everyone back in Saint Paul was fine. He hoped graduation would still be held. He hoped the lower grades would still have to take their finals. Really, in the grand scheme of things, the death of the Bayview senior class was a drop in the water. It was a story that would be told for years to come, but that was it. It would not ruin the lives of too many people. Even his parents would get over it, before too long. They would move on. His younger brothers would grow up, and they would be better men than he could ever have hoped to become. They were smart. In shape, too. They'd miss him at first, but then they'd get over it. They would take care of his parents in their old age. His family would cope.

He wondered if he should say goodbye, turn to a camera right now and just wish his folks the best. That would be overly defeatist, though. No, he had a few messages for the world, but he wouldn't be sharing them until and unless he knew he wouldn't be making it out alive. For the moment, he was still trying his hardest, still plugging away at existing. Even if he didn't really think he'd last too long, he had to make the effort. He had to do his best to make it back home. Give his mom another hug. Spend Saturday in the park, cleaning up garbage. Without him there, it was sure to go to pieces. Even with that nice article the girl from the school paper had written, it just wasn't easy to find responsible youth these days who had any interest in cleaning up an old park.

Wrapped up in these worries and thoughts, Everett had completely disconnected himself from his physical reality. He walked on instinct, stumbling from time to time, not paying any real attention to his surroundings as he passed through them.

How The System Works
Alright guys. I'm making a clarification here, that will serve as policy unless an Admin or Senior Mod overrules it.

You are allowed four characters at a time. If one of yours dies, you may replace it through adoption. Note that, by the adoption rules, you may only adopt one character per version.

The reason we capped registrations and banned submitting to replace was that we were still getting new people and submissions from folks with one or two characters, so killing characters and then replacing them was burning through slots that, by rights, should have gone to those who hadn't already had a shot. With adoptions, that's not the case; these are already approved characters, and those who have less characters get priority, so the only way someone with three characters gets to adopt is if nobody with less wants one. This actually saves characters and saves the staff the trouble of inactive killing.

Make sense?

Feel free to bug me with any questions.

Cheers!

Lucas Lupradio
Alright guys. I'm making a clarification here, that will serve as policy unless an Admin or Senior Mod overrules it.

You are allowed four characters at a time. If one of yours dies, you may replace it through adoption. Note that, by the adoption rules, you may only adopt one character per version.

The reason we capped registrations and banned submitting to replace was that we were still getting new people and submissions from folks with one or two characters, so killing characters and then replacing them was burning through slots that, by rights, should have gone to those who hadn't already had a shot. With adoptions, that's not the case; these are already approved characters, and those who have less characters get priority, so the only way someone with three characters gets to adopt is if nobody with less wants one. This actually saves characters and saves the staff the trouble of inactive killing.

Make sense?

Feel free to bug me with any questions. I'm cross posting this to the rules thread so we're all clear.

Cheers!

Daphne Keller
Apologies for the time taken here. Rolls and starting school have eaten a lot of time.

There are still a few things that need fixing. In this sentence: "Her father, a former TV heartthrob of the 90s and her mother an interior designer for celebrities can afford a very comfortable life for themselves and their children." there should be commas after 90s, mother, and celebrities.

I'd still like to know a bit more about Daphne's disorder. What side effects did the pills cause? Does her doctor know she's off them? Also, Prozac is not an approved drug for Social Phobia, according to the FDA. I'm also having an issue with teachers taking an aggressive stance in class to deal with her phobia. I can see a few people making that mistake, but teachers are trained professionals, and it seems odd that even a large number of them would make such a damaging and poorly-planned mistake.

This: "She is also squeamish when it comes to blood and may not carry a killer's instinct." is a bit problematic, simply because it is assumed that most teens don't have killing instincts. That is not a real disadvantage.

Also, I'd like to know more about her fear of blood. Have there been any other incidents where it's come up? Why has it stayed so strong?

Post when you've got Daphne edited, and we'll give her another look. Thanks!

D-Day
Kimberly could see now. Her hand was free. Good. She wiped her eyes with it, slowly, clearing them. Bridget had restrained her slightly, keeping her from sitting up, and for a damn good reason. She wasn't going to look at her arm until Sarah was done. She could feel it. That was bad enough. Instead, she glanced around again. It was strange. Sarah and Bridget were there. The rest had vanished as quickly as they had appeared, though she could hear someone shouting from behind her, near the water. The lack of people made her feel better, though. She was no longer being a drain on everyone, and was also no longer being ignored by people right next to her. She was starting to actually feel like a person again.

Of course, there were still large problems, like one of her arms being useless and in pain. She wondered if it would ever stop hurting. Well, when she died, of course. That was a thought. Death was no longer imminent, but it was a very real possibility. She couldn't dwell on that. Had to find something else to focus on. Something worthwhile. Something to do with her life.

Kris. The answer was simple. She had to stop Kris. Had to stop her from shooting anyone else. Stop her from killing again. It would be alright. Track Kris down, maybe with help from Bridget, and deal with her. Take her gun. Shoot her or something so she couldn't just get another. It was noble. A smart choice. A good choice. It would be protecting others. That was the right thing to do here, right?

Well, no. What she was considering was absolutely wrong and immoral on every fucking level. Even now, Kimberly could see that. She wasn't fantasizing about protecting people, saving innocent lives. She wanted revenge. Kris had hurt her badly, taken so many things from her, and that was an action that could not go unpunished. If she was going to follow through, that had to be completely clear from the start. Anything less would be a betrayal of herself, would be a filthy lie. If she was going to actually kill one of her classmates, she had to be able to look them in the eye and pull the trigger. To smile while she did it, not because it was right but because it felt good. Could she do it?

That brought her up short. To kill someone, to look at them and realize that they were real, a person, with hopes and cares and dreams, and then to take that all away? To do that, she'd have to be pretty fucking twisted. Be like Kris herself. That wasn't such a stumbling block anymore, though. Kris wasn't a horrible person, even if she'd killed Reika and shot Kimberly. She was a bitch, a poser, but not evil. No, this wasn't about right and wrong. It was about power. Kris had taken that from Kimberly. Taken her independence, her sense of safety. That was the favor she wanted to return. The more she thought of it, the more the idea took hold. It gave her energy. It made her grin, even with the pain and the situation. She just had to communicate it somehow. If anyone here was going to help her, she wasn't going to lie to them, wasn't going to string them along. They'd know that she was going to do something incredibly petty and mean-spirited, and then they'd decide if they wanted a part of it. Kimberly wouldn't have it any other way.

And besides, she had another potential ally, someone not here right now. Because she knew that Reika had a twin sister. A twin sister she had cared very much about. Did Reiko feel the same? No way to know. Kimberly had never talked to her. She suspected, though, that she would be able to convince the girl to come along. In fact, if Kris kept at speed, it wouldn't be long at all until she had a whole sea of bereaved and angry people snapping at her heels, hounding her into hell. Kimberly just had to make sure she was at the head of that pack.

"Bridget," she said. A pause, to catch her breath. Damn, her arm hurt. "Can you... hand me my hat? Once I'm... When I'm feeling a bit better, I think... I think I'm going to want to get moving."

It sounded pathetic, and she hadn't been able to share her plans yet. No, that would have to wait until her arm was wrapped. It would have to wait until she was mobile.

Because right now, Bridget and Sarah were in a position to stop her, and she was not going to be stopped. No. She had a goal, and she was sticking to it. At least, until something more worthwhile came along.

August Mid Month (ish) Rolls
Alrighty. Card playing time is now over and stuff.

Dude, how come I feel like i'm not in Kansas anymore?
At least Josh wasn't calling Everett on the flatness of his words. They were going to keep on truckin', pretend things were fine. He could work that. Better than mind-wrenching terror. So up the mountain they went once again. It was sheer, undiluted hell. Everett had had more exercise in the past thirty minutes than in most entire days. That, plus the sudden emptiness of his stomach and his emotional fatigue, had him on edge. The only thing letting him keep a grip on himself was that Josh was being a sport and waiting up. The boy was being so kind and considerate. On the one hand, it made Everett happy to know that someone cared. On the other, it made him feel awful for being a burden. Without him, Josh would've had an easy time, gone racing ahead or something.

The boy quipped about the difficulty of the climb, and Everett managed a weak, wheezing chuckle. Yes. It certainly was harder going up than down. Especially going up a second time. Everett was pretty sure Josh was playing up his own exhaustion, trying to make him feel better. It was a nice gesture.

Moving steadily uphill, he forced himself to focus. One foot in front of the other.One step at a time. Exercise wasn't the worst thing in the world. After all, anyone could manage, if they just had the willpower. Memories came back to him, walking behind the Promenade, encountering Laverne Falciander. She was a girl who knew determination. He blinked. Was she here, too? He hoped not. He'd never managed to catch up with her after their brief encounter. Never managed a kind word or something to the large girl who was the butt of so many jokes. Then again, that was who Everett was. He wasn't special. Wasn't smart or skilled or charming. All he had was his own determination, and even that was not so much, in the grand scheme of things. He'd probably have been dead already if he hadn't met up with Josh. Probably have done something dumb like Remi.

Remi. He still could not believe the boy was gone. How had it happened? It seemed too sudden. Too shocking to possibly be true. The memory of all the blood made Everett woozy again. He had to distract himself. Had to focus on getting to the top. And then he realized that he was there. He'd managed to detach himself enough, send himself far enough into his own mind, to make the exertion tolerable. That was a useful skill. He wished he'd discovered it about a decade ago, back when he'd still had a chance to change his body shape, still had a chance to improve his path.

Had he kissed his mom goodbye? It was a strange thought, jarring. Coming out of nowhere. He cast about, trying to remember, finding himself unable, trying to puzzle out why he'd just now thought of it. Oh. Josh was kissing some metal stick. That was why. He glanced at Everett, and, apparently concerned about his thoughts, started justifying or explaining or something. A mad impulse hit Everett, the sort of thing he'd never done at home, and, without cracking a smile, he puffed out, "Nah, it's cool man. You don't have to apologize for your girlfriend. You're doing better than me. I've got no clue what she is. Maybe Chinese?" Well, it sounded dumb. He had no joking capability, but he'd tried. That was something. Hopefully not a sign of insanity.

Josh asked his opinion on where to go, and Everett considered. He looked around. It was nice here, on top of the mountain. Nice and cool. All too exposed, though. He dug through his bag and pulled out his map. Tried to sync it up to what he could see. No luck. He was hopeless with maps. Hopeless with compasses and wilderness survival. Just plain useless. At least he could see some buildings, off in the distance. Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe, if he had to die, he could at least do it on a comfortable bed or something. He gestured vaguely in their direction and said, "I don't know, maybe down there? We could find some people or something. Get some supplies, for when we find our crew."

He waited for a couple of seconds, but then realized that he'd be better off getting a head start. He started moving again. Always moving. At least with the exercise and starvation rations, he might actually lose some weight on this island. That was funny. SOTF combined with that reality show about getting skinny. Who'd have thought?

So, once again, down the mountain he went.

((Everett Taylor continued in Regrets))

August Mid Month (ish) Rolls
Just a reminder: Deaths aren't actually due until Thursday. There seems to have been some confusion, but it's five days after the card window closes, which is tomorrow at 11:15 AM.

Somewhere That's Green
((Jennifer Perez continued from Shelter From the Storm))

The endless expanse of fallen trees was not that far from the old bar and the residential zone, though the journey felt like it had taken a long time. That was not a bad thing. Jennifer was in no hurry. She had moved with as great a degree of stealth as her brightly colored clothing had allowed, and took several rests. She had moved when the world sounded normal, ducking into cover whenever she heard sounds that could belong to people, or when the ambient noise went silent. She did not want to deal with another group. Another bout of high-tension, armed paranoia was the last thing she needed.

Then there had been the bang. It had been early in her journey, and it had come from the direction that she saw, looking at her map, seemed to hold the sawmill. It was a place Jennifer had already decided to avoid, and the noise simply reinforced that idea. It had also driven her to ground for half an hour. If somebody was out there throwing around grenades or shooting a rocket launcher, she wanted no part of it. The whole thing was just too much. She wanted to be away from people. Wanted to be at home. Wanted to be doing something stupid and mundane, loitering at the Promenade, window shopping, spending time sitting in the park and staring at the night sky. Anything but this.

There was no anger left in her. That had bled out, as it so often did, once she was alone. She didn't like the situation she was in, but she just couldn't bring herself to rail against the heavens or Danya or anything like that. What would it change? What would it accomplish? Nothing.

The one thing that was worrying to Jennifer was that her priorities were not complimentary. Avoiding people was all well and good, but it would make finding a specific person very challenging. She also didn't know how long she'd have to track him down. He was one of the few genuinely good people she knew, one of the few who were everything she pretended to be. Much as she hated to admit it, that probably meant he wouldn't last that long out here. The sort of person who worried about total strangers in a car crash was not the sort who would be able to kill his classmates. Maybe not even defend himself or bring himself to believe that anyone would kill. Remaining optimistic was the worst possible thing someone could do out here. It was a perfect route to death. It meant trusting the wrong person at the wrong time. It meant getting shot in the back.

That was not a fate Jennifer wished on anyone. Not even Clio Gabriella. The video back in that auditorium, after... no. She couldn't think of that. Anyways, the video had been a perfectly illustrative example of the follies of trust. Even those you thought you knew, thought you could follow anywhere, could turn around and kill you with no hesitation. It was a clear lesson. It gave her pause. Made her wonder, made her hate herself for doing so. Someone who worried about strangers... Could he hurt someone? Well, yes. Clearly yes. Hadn't that been the cause of the situation where they'd met? But only by mistake. And anyways, it didn't matter. Jennifer was not going to win. She was not going to be able to kill her way to the top. She was going to die here. If she was betrayed, that would not be a pleasant death, but then, could any death be pleasant? It didn't seem like it. It was a risk worth taking. There would be no happy ending for her, for her few friends who were here. They would all be gone, soon. Nothing but flesh and bones, rotting in the sun, being picked clean, inside and out, by animals and insects. With the size of the class, it would be a miracle if the whole island didn't contract terrible diseases a week in. There were going to be a lot of corpses.

She looked at her hands. Something so simple. A part of her body. More than that, a part of her. The same hands she'd had her whole life, the ones she'd used to hold a doll when she was five years old, the ones she'd held a pencil and a needle and a magazine and a bottle of beer in in the years since. When she died, when she ceased to exist, it was likely her hands would still linger for a few days. It was strange, imagining being parted from them. And what was death, anyways? Heaven? Hell? She couldn't believe it. Had never been religious. Now didn't seem a good time to start. Then what? Nothingness? She couldn't even consider nothing. Could only picture black, or white, or emptiness, but emptiness was not nothing; it was an absence of something. There was something that could fill emptiness. Nothing could fill nothing. No, death was an eternity without anything, even the ability to know how long had passed. No thought, but no thoughtlessness, either. She simply couldn't imagine it. That made it terrifying.

And now, Chris knew. Chris, and probably someone at the sawmill, and probably a dozen others by now. They had experienced it. It held no more mysteries for them. Was that something to be envied, or pitied?

Jennifer was no longer happy being alone. She needed someone, anyone, to shake her out of her state of mind. She needed something to distract her, to force the unpleasant thoughts away, to pull her back down to reality. Was this the start of going insane? It sure felt like it. She'd thought all these things before, of course. She would often think about the world, even at home, but meditations on death were easier to shake off, to disregard, when the likelihood of ceasing to exist was far away. She'd always planned to live forever, on some level. To live until she was at least eighty, and at eighteen, that was close enough to an eternity. Her short life felt like, well, a lifetime. She had done, seen, experienced so many things, and it was just a beginning. Only now there would be no end. Now there would be nothing. It was only a matter of time.

She wanted to smash her head against something, to hit something hard, drive the thoughts away with pain. She kicked a log with all her strength, but it was old and rotten, and crumbled and splintered and flew every which way, but did not even grant her a hint of agony. The movement did throw her off balance, but she instinctively flailed her arms, managing to stay upright. Her body was made for this, to keep itself intact. Only her traitorous mind desired to damage herself.

And then, she paused. She had been walking while thinking, though she had not realized it. Walking without watching where she was going, in a daze, a haze of thoughts, not registering anything at all. The world was silent. The sun was high in the sky. Around her, as far as she could see, were stumps and fallen logs. Grass and tangled weeds grew everywhere. Some fungus dotted some of the stumps. And up ahead, a good ways ahead, was a figure, sitting and staring the opposite direction. A person. Someone she knew? She was too far away to tell. Right now, though, she would take anyone. Anyone to provide a distraction. Jennifer picked up her pace, stumbling slightly as she made her way through the weeds and across the loose rocks and branches, her feet occasionally crushing dry plants and threatening to upset her balance. She was closing quickly. Wait, better to say something now, right? Better not to surprise someone dangerous. Even if it could be a relief. Even if the adrenaline rush of a life or death struggle could be just the right thing to carry her away from her musings. She had to be strong. She had to be strong for everyone else. Her family. Her friends. Easier to remember now, with another person in sight. Easier for her to pull herself back together. It was an interesting revelation. Jennifer wanted to stay herself, and she had thought that other people imposed false selves on her. Now, though, she wasn't sure. When she was alone, she wasn't sure she was anyone at all.

"Hello," she called softly, pausing about twenty feet from the person. A huge girl. Someone she'd definitely seen around. Someone intimidating. Didn't matter. At the moment, anyone was a blessing.

Shelter From the Storm
Chaos. Confusion. Panic. Immanent disaster. Jennifer watched as everything slipped one more notch towards disintegration, as the situation spiraled even further out of her control. Allen and Carla moved towards her, about to take her up on her offer of a seat, and then there was someone else at the door. Carla got spooked and ran. Everyone was talking. Nobody was really saying anything. It was too much. Just too much. They had to shut up. Just had to. Fuck them, they had to. Where the fuck did they get off causing this sort of situation, blowing their little chance for peace apart just as they arrived?

Anger surged through Jennifer. It was not an unfamiliar emotion. As well as she hid it, as well as she kept her composure and played peacekeeper, she was, by nature, a wrathful person. She just had the self control to keep it hidden, keep anyone from knowing. Everyone thought she was some perfect, happy, simpleminded girl. They thought nothing could phase her. Thought nothing could piss her off. And now, here in this worst of all possible situations, she was worried about that. Worried about how she was feeling, about what she might do. About what others might do. Not everyone had Jennifer's ability to feign happiness and avoid blowing up. Half her friends had tempers. If she was feeling like this, what would the others be doing?

Allen had named the killer, before everything got fucked up. Clio. Clio Gabriella. Jennifer knew of her, could recognize her. Couldn't picture her as a murderer. She'd killed Chris. Chris who? Carlson? He was the only Chris Jennifer knew of. He'd always seemed like a nice boy, and now he was gone. What the fuck? How could this be real? Her hands were clenching, her fingernails, kept short for practicality, digging painfully into her palms. Stress mounting, along with the anger. That wasn't a good sign. In her few hours on the island, Jennifer was in worse mental shape than after an entire month of putting up with her friends' shit and her family's shit and the school's shit back home. She'd blown off some steam a few minutes before, only to have it return with a vengeance. She absolutely, positively needed to get away before things really went to hell.

As suddenly as she'd sat down, Jennifer popped back up. Carla had left about five or ten seconds ago. It was as good an excuse as any.

"I'm going after her. It's dangerous out there."

That was all that needed to be said, even if it was a complete lie. Carla had flipped out and ran off with a gun. Scared Jennifer, and probably the others, too. No, it was simply time for a little walk to cool down. A little walk to push back the grim reality of this situation. There was a back door. Carla had left through it. Jennifer had heard it slam. Not waiting to see if things got worse, she ducked after the other girl, winding her way to the back. It took a few seconds to open the door, but that was alright. It gave Carla a better head start. Much as she hated to admit it, Jennifer couldn't really just let her run off. She'd been planning to seconds ago, but now, she knew she couldn't follow through. She couldn't abandon someone, even a heavily-armed someone, if they were running panicked and alone. Wasn't that why she'd come to the bar in the first place, to see if Allen needed help? If Carla was already gone, though, she wouldn't be able to follow...

It was justification and self-deception, and Jennifer knew it. She didn't care anymore, though. Deep down, she was pretty sure she was a fucking awful person, just trying to fake kindness and good motivations as long as she could, when really she was just being a selfish bitch. Sure, she helped stop conflicts, but it wasn't for anyone else. She just hated conflict. Not a speck of altruism there.

Liar.

Anyways, it didn't matter. She ducked outside, took a look around. Carla was gone. The streets were empty. Perfect. Looping, avoiding the front of the building, Jennifer took off at a brisk walk, slipping through the deserted alleys. This semi-urban environment was her territory, her home turf. A place she was comfortable. Maybe she'd find a nice dumpster, just duck in there and hold out. But no, that wouldn't be the right thing. She had a goal, right? Something she'd been set on doing? It was hard to remember for the moment.

Right. Staying herself. Staying herself, worthless and helpless though she was.

And it would be awfully nice to get a chance to say one little goodbye.

So she headed for the edge of the buildings, dreading what was to come. She'd thrown away her best bets of survival twice now, in the form of a group with acquaintances and a safe place to hide. It didn't look like smart choices were in her future, either. No matter.

She kept walking, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. The icepick bumped against her back rhythmically as she walked. It had warmed up some. In fact, it felt natural enough now that she'd forgotten it completely.

((Jennifer Perez continued in Somewhere That's Green))

August Mid Month (ish) Rolls
So, I know this makes me a fake and a tease and other stuff, but people have been pretty supportive of Aaron, so I guess he still has some stuff to do, and I'd feel like a jerk getting someone to hero him when I do still have a perfectly good swap card. So, yeah.

Swap: Everett Taylor for Aaron Hughes.

Apologies for faking folks out in chat. I really was going to kill him, but, well, mind changing occurred.

If you've got ideas for Everett, PM me.

The Cap (Again)
The cap is here. So, yeah, don't post any new profiles. We've hit the limit.

B125 - Watson, Frankie[/DECEASED]
DECEASED


Name: Frankie Watson
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12th
School: Bayview Secondary School
Hobbies and Interests: Cooking and fine dining, Blogging and playing pool.

Appearance: Frankie is 5’8’’ but weighs 195lb, making him severely overweight but not quite obese. He has curly brown hair that falls past his ears and dark brown eyes. He has a stud piercing in his right ear and a small, pink mouth. He has thick eyebrows that he plucks to keep from becoming one long unibrow and a great deal of soft facial hair, comprising of a wispy moustache and what might one day be an impressive beard. Frankie commonly wears checked shirts over plain t-shirts and baggy green or brown cargo pants. He always wears white trainers that he cleans frequently so they don’t lose their colour.

Biography: Frankie was born into an upper-middle class family where his father is a successful lawyer and his mother is a housewife. Frankie grew up in comfort as one of three boys. His older brother takes after his father and is pursuing a career in Law whilst the youngest is rebelling against his parents and wants to be a rock star. Frankie took a different route and is pursuing his passion for food from all angles.

Frankie is a talented cook; in fact he is the main cook at home by choice. For Frankie cooking is what he excels at above all else. He’s average academically, hitting solid B’s since his earliest report cards. This doesn’t bother Frankie because he has no interest in continuing his education and pushing for top marks. His dream is to own his own restaurant and he believes all he needs for this is experience in the kitchen.

Frankie is good natured and easily amused. His easygoing nature let him shrug off the jibes at his weight which he takes in his stride. More often than not Frankie is the first to make a joke. He enjoys banter with his male friends and he feels the teasing isn’t serious. When he’s with ‘the guys’ he feels his weight isn’t an issue, even though he knows that his weight is fast approaching dangerous levels and privately this does worry him. However he can’t bring himself to exercise and indulges too much in the food he makes, always high in calories.

As girls became the topic of conversation more frequently Frankie felt left behind, comparing himself to his thinner friends and feeling inadequate. Taking the matter to some of his female friends they assured him that as long as he was himself, it didn’t matter what he looked like. Despite their good intentions to Frankie it confirmed what he suspected, that his weight made him unattractive. Spurred on by his male friends Frankie began to exercise seriously for the first time, stopping his weight gain.

Frankie was under no illusions of vast improvement but was delighted when it appeared his work had paid off and he managed to get a date with a girl. Eager to impress he dressed for the occasion and made arrangements to meet at a small Italian where he was on good terms with the staff. He was stood up. Frankie later overheard the girl laughing with her friends about the whole situation, which had been a prank.

Devastated Frankie quit exercising and began to comfort eat, rapidly gaining weight. His friends tried to encourage him to return to his old ways, offering to exercise with him and even share a controlled diet with him. Frankie declined and instead he turned to the internet, where he poured his heart out on a blog he set up. For what he needed the internet was perfect. It wasn’t distant like his father or overbearing like his mother. Frankie found people who were like him, and having been warned he may be developing into a compulsive eater he returned to his friends and accepted their help. Recently Frankie happily weighed in at under 200lb and falling, marking his most successful and sustained period of weight loss to date.

Frankie maintains a positive outlook on life, refusing to let his problems get the best of him. He has a healthy social life and is friendly with most people. In his free time he regularly practises pool and can do several trick shots. He is good sportsman and not a sore loser, enjoying a hard fought loss over a steamroll victory. When he is excited or nervous he runs his hands through his hair and he bites his nails. He likes most types of music and has a passing interest in sports, enough to not be left behind in a conversation but not so much as to really understand the inner workings of a game.

Advantages: Frankie is well liked and easygoing so he shouldn’t have any trouble finding friends on the island. His repeated attempts at exercise have left him with some strength, coupled with his size he could overpower weaker students without much difficulty. He can shrug off jokes about his weight while keeping a calm manner
Disadvantages: Being overweight as he is Frankie can’t really run and walks at a slow pace. His hair is long and thick enough to be pulled. He has weak self esteem when it comes to girls so would be less able to resist insults from them

Designated Number: Male student no. 125

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Designated Weapon: CQC 6
Conclusion: Unless B125 uses that knife to slice up some local flora and fauna for an improvised gourmet meal, I just don't foresee it being much use to him. This one has all the classic attributes of a loser: poor physical shape, too friendly, and a bad attitude. Ah well. Maybe he'll get chased before he dies. That would be a show.


DECEASED

B112 - Raynor, Micheal[/DECEASED]
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Name: Micheal Raynor
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12th
School: Bayview
Hobbies and Interests: Wasting his time on the internet, video games, classic rock music, airsoft, and paintball.

Appearance: Mike stands at a slightly above height of 6'1. His frame is slender, even if he is slightly overweight at 195 lbs. His arms have some tone to them, but only the kind gained from occasional effort to get into shape. His brown hair is usually kept shaggy, almost reaching his eyebrows and more often then not unconsciously brushed away. Mike's eyes are an ordinary and a perfectly unassuming brown and his skin the kind of pale only gained from a lack of time outdoors. His face is almost roundish in shape, with an almost constant intentional stubble covering his jaw.Mike could be described as mildly handsome, enough to be pleasant to look at, but nothing to get too excited over. Raynor also wears wireframe glasses, or on the odd special occasion, contact lenses to correct his impaired vision.

His choice of clothing is almost invariably jeans and t-shirts. It would be a safe bet that anytime you spot Mike, he'll be wearing a t-shirt for some movie or video game with a worn pair of jeans and a pair of skateboard shoes, most often Vans. He can also been seen wearing a navy blue BDU shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and chevrons ironed onto each shoulder, passed onto him from his father. On the off chance he isn't wearing a t-shirt, he often chooses a white button-down dress shirt with a button from an old action movie pinned the lapel.

Biography: Micheal Raynor was born in Cheyenne, Wyoming on January 28th, 1990. With both parents on active duty in the Air Force, Micheal only lived in his birth home for around a year before his parents were moved to another base in California, where he spent another four and a half years of his life. Micheal was just old enough for kindergarten when his parents were relocated again, this time to a base outside Atlanta, Georgia. his family spent three years there before moving to West Virginia in 1998.

At this point, Micheal was more then old enough to grow tired of the constant moves, and as such begged his parents for something approaching stability. When his parents moved a final time to St. Paul when he was 15, his father retired from the Air Force and his family finally settled in down in Minnesota. While his mother remained in the Air Force, his father worked as a police officer at the Minneapolis Air Port near St. Paul.

Despite the constant uprooting, Micheal maintains a good relationship with his parents. They trust him not to do anything that will get him in trouble and as a side-effect from the constant moving, tend to spoil him. Accordingly, Micheal always has the latest games and game consoles, as well as being trusted with the keys to the family car. When at home, they tend to leave him to his own devices, only really talking at dinner or when he's on the way out for school.

Micheal always expected another move, despite his parents claiming they were settled, and as never made a great effort to familiarize himself with his classmates. Even after living in St. Paul for three years, Micheal maintains a loose circle of friends with similar interests, but the goings on of the main student body never really caught him. As such, Micheal is antisocial to the majority of the people who interact with him in the short-term, be it at school or at his job working at a local video game store.

Micheal spends the majority of his free time at home in his room, with his stereo blaring or with his eyes glued to the tv screen playing the latest video game or watching the latest movie downloaded off the internet. There has also been the odd occasion where he tried to learn how to play an instrument to follow one of his 'rock idols' like Mick Jagger or Angus Young. The desire to learn an instrument was on relation to his preference for music from the early 90's and before. In keeping with his more isolated life style, Micheal is the last person to ever attend a school sporting event or participate in any club or social event, outside a possible LAN party at his home with some of the few people he would make an effort to know. In fact, the only physical activities he engages in are airsoft and paintball. He makes a point to play every other weekend with similarly minded friends from school.

When he is does interact with people at school or during work, he's nice enough. While maybe not the most outgoing person on his own, Micheal almost doesn't stop talking once you get him to start. Always quick with a cheesy joke or what he things is a cool one-liner, he's still usually the person people only kind of glance at in the hallways at Bayview. Micheal is almost a non-entity to people who don't know, but those who do find him to be a motor-mouth with a bad sense of humor and an archaic taste in music.

Advantages: His experience with airsoft and paintball may give him a very basic idea of how to handle a firearm should he be issue one. His constant jokes might also serve to put other students at ease and leave them with their defenses down, should he choose to play things that way.
Disadvantages: Conversely, his experience with airsoft and paintball may give him false expectations on what shooting at other people is actually like. Similarly, his jokes and constant talking might also serve to set off some of the more...precarious students around him. Beside the exercise he gets from his games, he's out of shape and as such, isn't the best person to keep his endurance on the island.

Designated Number: Male student no. 112

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Designated Weapon: Bagh Nakh
Conclusion: Hmm... If B112 is able to use his weapon as an effective surprise, he may be able to get his hands on a gun and make a name for himself. I don't think that's how things will turn out for him, though. I see him getting picked off in short order by someone who's just a little bit quicker and better. Being in shape has real benefits, and B112 will soon be wishing he'd considered them.


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G123 - Walworth, Alison[/DECEASED]
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Name: Alison 'Allie' Jane Walworth
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Grade: 12th
School: Bayview Secondary
Hobbies and Interests: Gardening, Cooking, Social Networking.

Appearance: Though she is often sick, Alison is by no means frail, standing at 5'4 and weighing 150lbs, placing her just above the healthy range for her weight. This is mostly fat, rather than muscle, due to something of a lack of exercise. Most of her weight is in her legs, with some distributed in her hips and bust, giving her something of a pear-shaped figure.

Alison has a fairly round face, however her chin sticks out slightly. The skin on her face is fair and unblemished aside from a small scar underneath her right eye, which she keeps hidden under concealer. Her deep-blue eyes are wide, and usually surrounded by black or navy blue mascara. Depending on the angle you look at it, her nose either looks too large for her face or perfectly in proportion.

Her hair is naturally a light brown, however she has recently taken to dying it black. The last time she had it dyed was a while ago, however, leaving her hair an odd mix of the two colours. She keeps it cut in a bob, with her fringe parted to the right. This is only partially because she likes the style, she mostly keeps it short in the summer as she finds she gets warmer with longer hair.

She has suffered from atopic eczema since she was young, which her family believes might be a side effect of her asthma. It tends to only attack her hands, causing them to come up in leathery lesions.

Clothingwise, Allie dresses for comfort, rather than any particular fashions. On the trip, she wore a navy blue T-Shirt with the logo for the band Foals on it, a dark purple and black striped zip-up jacket which is a size too big for her (she picked the wrong size when she ordered it), loose fitting faded jeans, and a pair of black and white Puma sneakers.

Biography: Alison Walworth was born three weeks premature to Liam and Angela Walworth in St. Joseph's Hospital, St. Paul, and spent most of her first few days in an Incubator. Liam was a waiter at a restaurant and Angela a worker in a clothes store, but gave up her job to help care for the baby. When they got her home, they gradually found that a single income wasn't enough to care for Alison, and Angela soon had to take up an evening job working in a liquour store. The family's money problems led to them not going ahead with their plan of having a second child as they had planned, leaving Allie an only child.

In her early years, Alison was an active child, always full of energy and a smile for everyone she met. However, she was diagnosed with severe asthma when she was in the 3rd grade after she had an attack while playing on the school field. Her own fears about something like it happening again, as well has her parent's concern over the incident, caused her to gradually become less active as she grew. This led to her persuing a variety of indoor hobbies, only a few of which she has managed to keep interest in throughout most of her life. However, her upbeat personality has remained much the same as it always had been.

One such hobby is her love of gardening. Allie is practically an encyclopedia when it comes to species of plants, ways of growing them and particularly what is edible and what isn't. Allie has always been a fan of survival programs on the Television from people such as Bear Grylls, especially interested in their methods of finding food to eat. Where possible, Allie has occasionally tried to replicate the recipes with plants she herself had grown, with varied results.

This led to Allie quickly getting an interest in cooking, after finding that eating most of the berries and such that she was preparing raw wasn't a good idea. This interest has ended with Allie taking cookery classes, and is looking to take it up as her career.

Sickness and time off of school has always been something of a common thing for Allie, between her asthma and her tendency to pick up pretty much any bug or virus that's going round, however her time off-school has increased in the past year or so due to a severe chest infection, which led to her having to take three weeks off school. Combined with her other bouts of sickness, this has led to a very low attendance record at the school, as well as Allie's grades slipping dramatically the times she made it into school, which was cause for concern for both the school and her parents.

A meeting with her parents later, Alison was quickly set up with a pile of work she needed to complete while she was absent, as well as a laptop from her parents in order to complete it. Having never owned a computer before due to her families money issues, this was a dream come true for Allie, and after setting up a fairly basic dial-up connection in their house, Allie quickly set about completing as much work as she could to get her grades back up to what they had been.

After eventually persuading her parents to get a still fairly slow, but reasonably priced broadband connection, Allie was introduced to sites like facebook and twitter by her friends, and has taken up social networking to keep in touch with her friends whenever she is sick. She has become somewhat dependent on these to talk with them, however, and rarely actually meets with her friends outside of school.

Having since returned to school from her absenses, and managing to maintain an avarage GPA, Allie's parents managed to scrape together just enough money for her to get on the Senior trip, wanting her to have at least one good memory of an otherwise bad year.

Advantages: Allie has a good knowledge of plants, including what's edible and what isn't, which could come in handy if she has to eat the flora on the island. Allie isn't really that well known around school, so she hasn't particularly made any enemies.
Disadvantages: Alison isn't in the best of shape, still recovering from a chest infection. If she suffers an asthma attack on the island, she's pretty much done for if she can't get to her inhaler in time.

Designated Number: Female student no. 123

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Designated Weapon: Additional First Aid Kit (Cravats, Allergy Medication, Epipen)
Conclusion: Hahahahaha. Well, G123 got probably the best weapon available, given her health problems. Still, I just can't see her lasting long at all. The frail tend to be easy outs, and asthma doesn't lend itself to being chased by murderous psychopaths.


DECEASED

Daphne Keller
Hi Daphne! The profile is looking better, but I still have a few issues.

First off, my research shows that Teen Social Phobia typically develops in the early to mid teens, so I'd like to know when and why it came about. Also, since I assume her parents/the school counselors would have noticed her problems, I'd like to know why she hasn't been treated, or, if she has, why treatment has not been effective.

Similarly, I'd like to know why her parents do not understand her condition. Since she has been diagnosed, it seems like her father would have been briefed on what to expect and how to deal with it.

I'd also like to know exactly what degree Daphne's social anxiety affects her academics to. Right now the whole thing is rather vague.

In this sentence: "To her it is something, besides her school work, that keeps her mind off of the anxieties that she feels." you imply that schoolwork helps Daphne's anxiety somehow. I'd like to see that elaborated on some.

I'm a bit confused by the fact that you describe Daphne's fashion as fairly chic and high end in her appearance, and deliberately nondescript in her bio. There's a big difference between not trying to stand out and dressing to blend in, and I can't tell which suits Daphne.

There are still a bunch of awkward fragments in the profile (""Gross stuff" being blood and guts and things of that nature.", "An act that she puts on for attention, but such accusations send her farther into retreat.", "A lion, for courage.") that I'd like you to expand into real sentences or merge with others, where they'd probably fit better.

I would also like you to remove the quotation marks from Daphne's profile, as they are a bit overly informal.

Finally, I find this: "She is very attractive and may use that to her advantage with male characters." to be incredibly out of character, given what you have stated about Daphne's social anxieties and such. Why would she suddenly start interacting with and manipulating people?

Post when you've got her edited, and we'll give her another look. Thanks!

Daphne Keller
Hi Daphne, and welcome to SOTF!

Unfortunately, your profile is temporarily DENIED pending some adjustments.

To start with, I'm not a fan of the comparison implied in this sentence: "Looking like a Victoria's Secret model, she is considered one of the most, if not the most, beautiful girls in her senior class and Bayview as a whole." It's a bit presumptuous, and assumes that there are no/few similarly comparable characters. I'd rather you keep to a simple "She is considered highly attractive" or something else that focuses only on her.

Next off, Daphne's age is somewhat shaky. SOTF V4 takes place in May 2008, so with a November 1992 birthday, she would be 15.

"Charisma" should not be capitalized.

This: "Or personality of any sort really." is a fragment, and is hard to interpret, as it seems to be a double negative. Please rephrase it a bit. Also, a character without a personality is not a good thing.

If Daphne has a social disorder, we need to know what it is, how it effects her life, how she feels about it, how her family deals with it, etc., as it's a big, life altering sort of thing.

I'd like to know what makes Daphne's non-social life "perfect", as right now it is only referenced.

This sentence: "Her father, a former TV heartthrob of the 90s and her mother an interior designer for celebrities can afford a very comfortable life for themselves and their children and they are also active parents in their children's lives, supporting her sisters' cheerleading and sports aspirations." runs on too long, and is missing some needed punctuation. I'd like you to split it up and rephrase it, please.

This segment: "Daphne loves her mother, her whole family, with all her heart, but her father is often frustrated by her aloofness/distance. While her sisters opted for flashy new cars, red Mercedes' and fast convertibles, Daphne asked for an unassuming, silver sedan." is somewhat awkward; the leap in topic is confusing, and both could stand with more detail. Why did Daphne prefer the less fancy car?

Also, I'm a bit worried by Daphne's distance from everyone on a social level. It suggests something of a lack of empathy or desire in interaction, both of which are worrisome in the context of the RP.

This: "Two instances of this are: she used to run track for the school. Her quickness and stamina surpassed the others in the area, but the idea of winning, and all of the attention that it would bring to her, interviews, etc. made her fall back and lose on purpose." is very worrisome to me. I'm bothered by the fact that Daphne seems to be the best at many things (great at math, the most beautiful, the best runner, etc.), because characters who are good at everything are completely uninteresting to read about. Part of the fun of SOTF comes from watching normal people react to extraordinary circumstances, and people who have too many skills don't mesh well with that.

I want to know why Daphne is squeamish with blood and guts; what experience with it has she had, and, assuming there is none, how does she know this? I am also confused by the fact that you refer to her as wimpy in painful situations in one sentence and then say that she will not go down without a fight a few later. These seem contradictory, and I'd like that contradiction to be explained somewhere.

This: "Many of the boys at her school are struck with her. This shy, mysterious girl who looks like a supermodel, but she always rejects their advances. And girls...well she turns them off completely, with her slightly cold, unwelcoming demeanor and is the object of many of their envy." is, again, a little bit much. If she's so socially stunted, how does she have this much of a presence?

This: "Despite her horrible social affliction, she has an undeniable beauty and a quiet charm/lightness to her. Something that reigns in her over the top attractiveness and makes her vulnerable makes her human." seems to neutralize any social disadvantage she has. It sort of seems like the only reason she doesn't interact with people is because she chooses not to, which is something that needs much more explanation.

This: "Her quiet and meek graces, humility and physical visage make people want to get to know her, but she simply just can't allow them." directly contradicts her above stated aloofness and chill.

Also, Daphne's interest in manicures and pedicures should come up somewhere in her bio, if it is important enough to be listed as a hobby.

I'm a bit worried by Daphne's advantages and disadvantages too. You list her lack of associations with people as an advantage and a disadvantage. If it's an advantage at all, then I can't really see how her social issues are going to be much of a hindrance. Also, the Advantages and Disadvantages sections should be written in a series of complete sentences, not as lists. Also, Daphne's poor upper body strength should come up somewhere in her bio. Everything in the advantages and disadvantages sections should follow naturally from the bio.

My big issue with Daphne is that she is, quite simply, too good at everything. Her sole weakness is her social anxieties, and even that seems to be due to choice of some kind. It seems like all her failings are because she chooses to fail, not any fault of her own. I'd like you to go through and make her a more well-rounded character, and to address all the points I have brought up above.

Also, please proofread Daphne's bio again, as right now there are way too many incomplete sentences.

Post when you've got her edited, and we'll give her another look. Thanks!

CHARACTER OF THE MONTH - AUGUST 10
(In no particular order)

1. Sierra Manning, by Mimi. One of the best characters in pregame, Sierra in game is still definitely the same character, and is very touching and well-written.

2. Julian Avery, by Jonny. It's darn near impossible to pull off a sarcastic and humorous character who is genuinely funny, but Jonny manages it effortlessly. Julian is, quite simply, an amazing character.

3. Dominic Stratford, by faceinabook. It's so great to see a character as out of their depth as poor Dominic, and he's been quite heroic, in his own odd way. I can't wait to see where he goes.

EDIT: Thanks, Dom. Also, that's how you know you have a memorable name.

D-Day
More people. Kimberly could tell they were there, all around her, bickering, trying to help her, getting in each others' ways. It was strange. This was about her, but she was something of a nonentity, a prop on the stage, the center of the drama yet held apart from actually participating. It pissed her off. A lot. Sure didn't ease the pain, either.

She was tilted onto her side. Bridget was still holding her hand. Someone was still pressing something to her shoulder. She couldn't see her hat anymore. She wanted to start screaming, reclaim everyone's attention by force. Tell them all to shut up and stop fucking around. Bridget was talking to someone, scaring him off. It sounded like Steve left. Good riddance. Kimberly didn't need anyone who thought she was going to die. No, she was starting to think she really had a chance. She hadn't passed out yet, hadn't faded away. She was fucked up, no doubt, but she would make it. She would make it and... and... Well, that wasn't so clear. What the fuck did she have left to do now? Clearly, everyone was going to fight. There'd even been confrontations right here, while she was bleeding, albeit not physical ones. And Kimberly knew the truth, now. She knew that people were willing to play. Anyone was a potential enemy. Even Bridget. Even the girl patching up her arm. All of them could turn on her at any second, like Kris had.

Kris. She had to warn them. Had to do something about the girl. She'd run off by now, of course, but they might meet her later. Suddenly, Kimberly found herself lost in her imagination. What she would do to see Kris again, only, this time, armed herself. She would catch the girl unaware, unarmed, and she would hold her at gunpoint, and then she would say, "Kris, do you know how it feels to be shot?" Then she would pull the trigger and shoot Kris in the arm. An eye for an eye. A bullet for a bullet. That would be so very nice. Help her reclaim a little self respect, a little self control.

"Kris," she mumbled. "Kris did this to me."

She was vaguely worried by the fact that she no longer had any trouble believing that fact. Kris had shot her. All these others had helped her. In the end, it was likely that every one of them would be dead. One person would leave the island. The odds of it being a specific person were astronomically low. What were all these people helping her for? Did they think that doing so would improve their own chances, somehow? Had they already given up, and chosen to just follow their own consciences rather than really try to live? Did it matter? Kimberly was almost certain that each and every one of them was doomed. It was a strange thought. Not quite sad. Worse.

She finally managed to blink her eyes clear enough to see, though she moved something wrong in the process and felt a jolt run down her arm. It froze her, eyes staring at nothing, able to see but not comprehend, for a good ten seconds. Then she tried to take stock of the people near her. Bridget. Sarah. Sarah was the one tending her. A few boys, too far away to be clear. Her stuff was still lying on the ground. Her bags. Her hat had to be behind her. She wanted it back. It was stupid, but dammit all, she wanted that hat.

"Can you pass me my..." she started, but then swallowed wrong, trying to clear her mouth of excess saliva, and coughed a couple of times. Bad move. More pain in her arm. This being shot thing just wasn't getting any easier. She hated it. Kimberly felt nothing but hate for her situation. She needed to change it, somehow. Needed to get her hands on a weapon or something, so she could at least feel powerful to some degree. She realized that she wanted a gun. It would be good. Helpful. Keep her safe. Let her teach Kris a little lesson. Give her back her control. Where could she get one, though? Could she use one? She had a rope and a grappling hook. Was that any good? Not now, that was for sure. She wasn't going to be climbing anything with only one functional arm.

She tried to push herself up a little, to more of a sitting position. It wasn't going so well. She tried to wiggle her hand free, just to get a bit more movement. Something. Anything. She wanted to go. To just walk away from it all, like she always did when things bothered her. She wondered if she would ever be able to do so again. Hopefully. After all, there was nothing wrong with her legs. She just had to hold it together a bit longer. Keep strong until she stopped bleeding. Then she could try to do something. What didn't matter.

B110 - Davis, William "Bill"[/DECEASED]
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Name: William "Bill" Davis
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12
School: Bayview Secondary School
Hobbies and Interests: Music, watching boxing, working out, girls, football

Appearance: Bill has long blond hair, brown eyes, and bushy eyebrows. Hia hair is roughly shoulder-length, occasionally a bit more. In general, Bill wears it loose over his shoulders, though he occasionally bunches it up in a ponytail or in some other form as circumstances dictate. His facial features aren't very sharp, either, though his face tends to settle into something of a scowl naturally.

Physically, Bill is somewhat imposing. He's only a bit over six feet tall, but he is built like a tank, weighing in at about 230 lbs, with a great deal of that in muscle. What he wears varies wildly based on the weather, his feelings on a given day, etc. He doesn't concentrate that much on his appearance, but he'll usually at least try to make his clothes match.

The day of the trip, he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a heavy hoodie tossed in his bag in the event the weather turned sour (given that this is the Midwest, anything can happen with the weather, after all).

Biography: Bill Davis is the only son of, quite simply, trailer trash. His family generally lacking in ambition, Bill had a very apathetic attitude towards school for almost his entire academic career: School was fine as long as he had friends to hang out with, but class was boring and something he was very inclined to skip. He got along decently with his parents, but the relationship was fairly normal: His parents worked a lot (his mother always had at least one job, and his father often worked two, doing a variety of menial tasks such as working at a 7-11), and so he didn't see them as much as either of them would have liked. The exception was that his father took him, twice, to see boxing matches in Chicago. It was a strain on the family budget, but between the trip down and back and the matches themselves, it provided them with a rare bonding experience.

Generally, though, he did make it a point to be at school most days, and to cover his tracks if he did skip (which he did a number of times over the years), if for no other reason than to hang out with his friends. Never excelling in any classes, he focused on sports...only he wasn't terribly good at them while in elementary school.

This led him to get into more than one childhood fight, though he did a decent job of keeping most of them out of the sight of teachers. He did, however, get in trouble for two of them: One in elementary school and one late in middle school.

The second fight nearly saw him sent off to an 'alternative school', a threat that managed to get him to at least partly clean up his act. The fights stopped, but some occasional bullying continued for another year or two, partly due to his relatively large size at the time (he was tall and weighty, even if he kept a decent amount of the weight in muscle) and the fact that he saw it as the only way to avoid being bullied, and partly because he didn't have much of anything to fall back on while a number of the kids in the school district he was dropped into had more money and therefore more "cool" stuff to show off.

After Bill got to Bayview, he actually managed to slot into several cliques over the years, ranging from common music interests (Bill preferred metal of various varieties, followed by rap and the like) to boxing (watching it, not actually fighting himself). He fit in a bit better, his grades improved to 'passable' from 'awful', and he even emerged as something of a leader in those groups due to a combination of his size and a bit of charisma that came to the surface. The older 'bully' slid quietly into a leader of sorts, and he made it a point to try and get along with those he saw as his friends. This included girlfriends (the number of which he couldn't keep count of), who he did his best to keep; that said, his circumstances made that hard, and he never quite found the right girl to go steady with for more than a few weeks despite his best efforts.

Not that this made him popular. There were still a number of cliques which he clashed with on occasion, and Bill still wasn't against the occasional locker room 'incident', though he did his best to avoid getting into trouble (something he got to be fairly good at). As the years went on, he made attempts at making various teams, and though he was often cut (due to bad luck or a lack of space), he did manage to come in as a backup lineman on the football team his junior and senior year (trouble catching balls in motion keeping him from achieving more). He did what he could to get in better shape to try and make the team, and kept it up even after he was accepted in a vain effort to try and get a better position on the team; even after his final game, he kept working out, as it was one thing he could do after school that didn't cost him any money.

Advantages: Physical strength is Bill's biggest asset. So, too, is the fact that he is moderately charasmatic, and the combination could make him a threat.
Disadvantages: Bill has something of a love-hate relationship with a lot of people. Either they love him or they hate him, and the proportion is probably close to even. While he doesn't personally have too many chips on his shoulder, there's a good chance that he'll run into more than one person on the island who has a chip on their shoulder. Also, his eye-hand coordination is far below ideal; he can't catch footballs, and that likely spells trouble for him with using any number of weapons.

Designated Number: Male student no. 110

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Designated Weapon: SPAS-12 (x16 shells provided)
Conclusion: Hmm... He's got the same weapon Calvert did, and some good potential. I don't see him winning, but he may stick around for a bit. This one may surprise me.


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