Post by alfred on Mar 26, 2012 19:08:29 GMT -5
:human:
:basic:
Name: Alfred F. Jones
Age: Twenty
Nationality: American "That's right, suckers! U to the S to the A!"
Birthday: July 4th
:basic:
Name: Alfred F. Jones
Age: Twenty
Nationality: American "That's right, suckers! U to the S to the A!"
Birthday: July 4th
Occupation: Leader of the H.F.A.O.
Upper, Middle, or Lower Class?: Lower Class "Yeah yeah yeah, shut up!"
Attitude Towards Bots?: "DUDE, DUDE, DUUUDDDEEE! Those poor broskies! How dare some bastards take away their humanity!? Just wait until I get my hands on 'em! I'll teach them to mess with my family."
Appearance: Alfred stands at a proud height of 5'10" with a build similar to that of an athlete's (although with the way he eats, it's a miracle on Earth). His hair is a medium-short, blonde cut, although he has a small hair standing at attention. Al doesn't bother trying to put it down, as it will just bounce right on back anyways.
Clothing wise, Alfred isn't exactly a fashion guru. He wears whatever he feels is "fitting" and has a tendency to wear things based on whether he wants people to notice him or not. (Although with an ego the size of Alfred's this isn't very surprising). Most of the time you'll find this happy go-lucky fella wearing a jacket and his trademark glasses.
Likes
[x] Greasy Foods "Ahem. They're actually called HEALTHY foods, thank you very much!"
[x] Talking/ Rambling "blahblahblahblahALIENSblahblahblahLALALALAblahblahSUPERHEROESblahblahblahblahFOOD"
[x] Making Friends
[x] Superheroes/heroes (Unfortunately he doesn't realize superheroes don't, technically, "exist")
[x] Games
Dislikes
[x] The Upper Class (for the most part)
[x] "Villains"
[x] Terrible Cooking "I-Is that a SCONE? OH GOD SOMEBODY BURN IT! BURN IIIIIITTTT!"
[x] People who contradict him "Seriously, dude, not cool."
[x] Cyborgs (for the most part) "Why can't I have bad-ass robot parts too!?"
Strengths
[x] Sly and Clever
[x] Decently strong and agile "for a human"
Weaknesses
[x] Doesn't know when to shut up
[x] Has an absurdly large appetite
Upper, Middle, or Lower Class?: Lower Class "Yeah yeah yeah, shut up!"
Attitude Towards Bots?: "DUDE, DUDE, DUUUDDDEEE! Those poor broskies! How dare some bastards take away their humanity!? Just wait until I get my hands on 'em! I'll teach them to mess with my family."
Appearance: Alfred stands at a proud height of 5'10" with a build similar to that of an athlete's (although with the way he eats, it's a miracle on Earth). His hair is a medium-short, blonde cut, although he has a small hair standing at attention. Al doesn't bother trying to put it down, as it will just bounce right on back anyways.
Clothing wise, Alfred isn't exactly a fashion guru. He wears whatever he feels is "fitting" and has a tendency to wear things based on whether he wants people to notice him or not. (Although with an ego the size of Alfred's this isn't very surprising). Most of the time you'll find this happy go-lucky fella wearing a jacket and his trademark glasses.
Likes
[x] Greasy Foods "Ahem. They're actually called HEALTHY foods, thank you very much!"
[x] Talking/ Rambling "blahblahblahblahALIENSblahblahblahLALALALAblahblahSUPERHEROESblahblahblahblahFOOD"
[x] Making Friends
[x] Superheroes/heroes (Unfortunately he doesn't realize superheroes don't, technically, "exist")
[x] Games
Dislikes
[x] The Upper Class (for the most part)
[x] "Villains"
[x] Terrible Cooking "I-Is that a SCONE? OH GOD SOMEBODY BURN IT! BURN IIIIIITTTT!"
[x] People who contradict him "Seriously, dude, not cool."
[x] Cyborgs (for the most part) "Why can't I have bad-ass robot parts too!?"
Strengths
[x] Sly and Clever
[x] Decently strong and agile "for a human"
Weaknesses
[x] Doesn't know when to shut up
[x] Has an absurdly large appetite
:advanced:
Personality: There are many personality traits that can be used to describe Alfred F. Jones. But the most fitting, perhaps, is the characteristics "witty", "talkative", "caring", "stubborn", and "irrational".
Witty - The most serious of conversations can quickly dissolve with Alfred's sense of humor. Sarcasm is this individual's "native language" and he can always find someway to turn the tables on you and pin you into a terrible or corny joke. His quick wit allows him to make annoying comments with ease. How....fun.
Talkative - Alfred is completely oblivious to the words "shut" and "up", as seen by his flibbertigibbet nature. (yes I just used a fifty point word ~ sue me) No matter how awkward the silence is or how uneventful the conversation, Alfred can and will find something to talk about.
Caring - If there's one thing that Alfred is, that is caring. It may not seem like it sometimes, but he's actually just trying to help out in whatever weird way he can. Whether it be getting revenge for you or making you a nice ice cream sundae.
Stubborn - Try to reason with him and it'll be worse than trying to fight a mule.
Irrational - His dreams and aspirations usually include something that isn't logically possible......No, really.... Ever heard of a Superhero Dinosaur Brigade? Yeah, I thought so....
History:
Early Years
It all began one bright July day for the Jones family. The fireworks were flashing across the sky outside the windows of a crowded New York hospital, where in just minutes a small, curious boy would be born into the world. His parents would be thrilled to have him and his eager, gleaming eyes in their hold. They would be even more thrilled to bring him along with them to Eishoff, the great Republic they had heard so much wonderful news about. It would be the perfect place to raise their boy, they both had thought at that time. After-all, it seemed almost too good to be true! The buzz around the country had been all about it's ideal healthcare and it's spacious homes. To get out of the slums they had been living in, that was all that mattered to Alfred's mother and father. Little Alfred wasn't worthy of harsh living conditions and starvation. He wasn't worthy of living as they had for all their lives.
So they packed up and left. Just like that. Leaving behind them the stripes of red and white they had clung to all their life. It was time for a new beginning, a new hope. America wasn't the Land of Opportunity anymore, that was a fossilized moment in the past. In this day in age it was only Eishoff, nothing more and nothing less.
It's unfortunate they had to experience otherwise.
It turned out, in the case of the Jones', that opportunity wasn't as easy as they had hoped. It was nearing winter now and the small and incredibly young family was forced into moving to a Southern apartment complex. Their money was becoming scarce, as they had spent it all on the trip over and hadn't much to begin with. This sudden lack of funding and hostile environment spread a wave of fear through Alfred's mum and dad. What if they couldn't survive this? What if they got sick? What if they got murdered?
Years passed and this continued in the same manner. Alfred was now four, his father worked at a minimum wage job and his mother was constantly watching over her boy. If something were to happen, she would have never allowed herself to live it down. So she worked diligently to prevent trouble from coming their way. All the while, she did as every mother should: she taught, played, and loved her son.
These memories would later be Alfred's most cherished.
Time ticked by slowly, barely crawling at the pace of a snail. Alfred was now fourteen and was becoming more and more...vibrant everyday. His imagination grew to no end, his teenager years were sparking and all he could do was ramble about non-sense dreams and swift justice (which made his parents regret telling him tales of heroes and soldiers in his earlier years). Even though he talked a good talk and walked a mighty fine walk, Alfred was oblivious to the reality of what he was saying. He ultimately contradicted himself time and time again, his "heroic" speeches slipping through his fingers like sand. What good was it to denounce the "bad" when he turned right around and befriended those very people?
It wouldn't be long before Alfred began making friends with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. His boisterous and outgoing attitude turning an entire room of strangers into a room of life long friends and relatives.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Change
I'm sorry, son, but there is nothing we can do. Was the only remark Alfred's father had said that fateful day, before leaving Alfred to tend to his mother alone. It was a crisp Autumn evening and the only thing that could be heard was the steady rolling of tears to the ground. Everything was crashing down around Alfred, it seemed. Before him lay his dearest mum, on her death-bed. She had somehow contracted an illness, an illness that could not be fixed with their level of poverty. If only they had a bit more money, then they could have sent for a doctor. A real doctor, not the one down the hall that prescribed placebos and bought organs from shady men in hoods.
But, it could not be helped. Alfred tried telling himself that it wasn't his fault, that even though he was a hero, he couldn't do anything about disease. This was fate and all he wanted now was for his mother to be out of misery. For his mother to die a peaceful death and watch over him from the Heavens.
This feeling of melancholy would soon be replaced with an indescribable emotion that bordered the thin line between rage and hysteria.
Alfred's father had come shuffling back in, a group of men following behind. Everything happened so quick, like a flash of memory that you can just barely remember if you strain hard enough. The men had yanked up Al's mother and carried her off out of the apartment, taking her to who know's where. When Alfred tried to protest, he had received a punch to the jaw from a mechanical arm and a stomp into his midsection.
Never before had he been hit so hard, not just physically but mentally. The sudden realization had slowly began to sunk in as he slung himself up off the floor. They were going to take away his mother before she could die...so they could...so they could....
No...No...No, no, no, no, no, NO! The men were gone but Alexander Jones was still there, the money from this transaction still jingling around in his pocket.
M-Mom....What....What are they going to do to you?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Formation of the H.F.A.
Four years has passed since then and Alfred has stumbled forward into the present. The idea of people selling the sick or the weak for money still remains a major thorn in his side, but he hides it with a wide grin and sarcastic remarks. What makes him even angrier, however, is what happens AFTER they get sold or taken away. Alfred finds the idea of taking something so beautiful as life and twisting it to your will to do your bidding sickening.
So, to accommodate his extreme distaste, he has formed the H.F.A.O., Humanity for All Organization, an underground team working to discover the secrets of the all mighty D.E.R.P. But can Alfred really accomplish his goals? Or will everything he strives for be as failed as his attempt at proper grammar?
RP Sample: (......Oh god, the history I wrote is long enough for not only the history, but also five RP samples.....-facepalm- But, a soldier must type onwards.....XD)
It was morning again and the sunlight filtered in from the dusty blinds above Alfred's bed. Sleep had just came to the poor man, but was quickly yanked away by the chirping of the birds and the intense light blinding through his eyelids. "Dude.....Five more minutes........." he mumbled absently to himself, seeing as there was not a single soul besides him in his room. There never was, after-all. Except for that one time he had that totally wicked sleepover with his mates. To this day, nobody will ever know how much alcohol was consumed that night.
"Alright....'m gettin' up." A sleepy yawn rattled from his mouth and Alfred rolled over on his mattress, shifting dangerously close to the edge as per routine. For some reason unknown, this was the game Al played every morning for the past week. He would get as close to the edge as physically possible to force himself to wake up. If he didn't, he would fall onto the hard floor and risk a new addition to his array of bruises running down his right arm. "Ha ~ No way am I going to fall out of bed...I'm not that stupid to not catch myself!"
THUD! "DUDE!"
:ooc information:
Name:
Age: Seventeen
Time Zone (GMT +/-): GMT-5 ;D
Experience: I've been role-playing for going on four years now on various different boards. Never before have I been on a Hetalia board ..so ya know...This is my "first time," I guess. Don't shoot me because of it! If you spare me, I'll be sure to give you some delicious
<3 Oh and uh....Sorry if my app's kinda all over the place....My mind isn't functioning properly today, apparently.
Contact Information: PM is just lovely, peep sheeps. Although if you really must...I can always give you my YIM XD
