In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: William Yao; generally goes by Will.
Username: charismatic
Fandom: OC
Played By: Godfrey Gao
Icon: default is fine.

Original Character Section
Physical Description: A Chinese man in his mid-twenties who is very tall by cultural standards (5'10'') and in very good physical shape, both because he hasn't been out of the military long and because he generally favors strenuous physical activity recreationally. Very dark brown eyes under thick, pointed eyebrows and dense, coarse black hair that is currently a bit shaggier than acceptable in most military contexts; the rebellion isn't organized enough yet to make him cut it, or to make him shave his short/stubbly beard/mustache combo. Generally wears utilitarian clothing that's easy to move in, but tends toward the tacky when it comes to dressing himself up. Attracted to shiny things, loud patterns, and bright colors.

Sexuality: By our terms, he'd be pan/omnisexual. He generally favors more casual liaisons but can (and has) ended up with a more serious arrangement.

World Information:Due to the depletion of fossil fuels, Earth nations grouped themselves into four conglomerate federations, organized largely geographically, with an eye toward resource management and cooperative control of large solar power plants. The Lagrange orbital territories were colonized generations ago as part of increasing the reach and efficacy of solar power, but colonists are regularly shorted in terms of resources and general considerations, and mainly make use of fabricated materials and synthetic foods. As a result, those displaced by conflict or who can no longer afford to live on the planet often migrate to space.

Disease has been largely eradicated, and can be avoided all together for those with enough money to pay for a full battery of preventatives, which covers everything from common colds to STDs to cancer; they are generally provided to state employees and military personnel who don't already have them. Technology as a whole is advanced and efficient, medical facilities allow for the regeneration of destroyed and damaged tissue under most circumstances, and military tech is dominated by large mechanoid suits with tremendous destructive capabilities that require specially trained pilots. Projectile weapons have been largely replaced by beam/pulse weaponry fueled by a combination of a solar ignition battery and a combustible compound that uses vegetable oil as a base.

While regular humans are perfectly capable of competently piloting these mechanoids, a particular subset of people with particular abilities have been found to be the most effective combatants, counteracting the inevitable lag of large machinery. Called "newtypes," these abilities generally start manifesting anywhere between the ages of 5-15, and are regularly screened for through aptitude tests administered in schools. Those with scores high enough are drafted into top military institutions, with full ride scholarships and a minor child stipend paid to the parents/guardians to keep them amenable. While these types of soldiers are free to leave the military after their first tour of duty is finished, they are generally pressured to stay because of their effectiveness.

The conglomerates have been at war in one way or another for decades, over territory, resources, or personal insults no one remembers anymore. Recently, however, there was an attempt to use a space colony as a weapon of war by physically dropping one into enemy territory. While impact was averted, there was no attempt made to save the colony itself and all inhabitants unable to make it to emergency evacuation ships were killed. The space colonies have banded together as a result, demanding self-governance and better treatment from Earth. The Federations have called a temporary ceasefire to deal with the insurgency and formed a special executive body called the Global Security Council. While Earth has the overwhelming advantage in terms of pure resources, the spaceborn have a positional advantage and are generally better suited to fighting in space - plenty of Terrans have never left the atmosphere. To help counteract this, around six months after the outbreak of war, the GSC instituted a newtype draft, pulling all identified newtypes into combat, whether or not they actually had military training.

History: Born on the T-84 colony at Lagrange 4, a run-down and shabby place made almost entirely of concrete and metal alloys. The only greenery is fake, and the population is largely working class or poor. Wedged between an older sister and two younger ones, Will is the son of parents who are three generations spaceborn and umpteenth generation immigrant. Just-barely middle class, they were doing better than a lot of families on T-84, but couldn't really say no to the extra money when Will was tapped for military school at 13. He's never resented that - his sisters have a lot more opportunities open to them now than he would have without his military and subsequent financial contribution.

Prior to attending military academy, Will had only had the most basic preventatives and never had fresh/real food. A lot of things planetside were revelations to him - things that Terrans took or granted, like natural sunlight and real clouds and fresh air - which lead to some initial adjustment problems where he was picked on by his classmates, who were mostly from monied Terran families, and responded with his fists. He took the the curriculum quickly and easily, though, exceeding the expectations of the flock of white-coated scientists always hovering around the periphery of pilot sims and aptitude tests. He also took to Mateo Dias, one of the few fellow newtypes in his class, pretty quickly despite vastly divergent backgrounds.

They were largely inseparable after that, through combat training, pilot school, and the breaks in between. Since Will didn't want to spend the money on traveling back home when he felt like his parents needed it for other things more, he spent all his early breaks with Teo's family - which was nearly incomprehensible to him the first couple times. Flying around the world at will, and having several large, well-appointed homes in pretty places were foreign concepts to him, nearly on the level of seeing snow or the ocean for the first time. He got along with the family pretty well despite that - except for Teo's older brother, but he doesn't get along with many people anyway.

By their mid/late teens they were fooling around pretty regularly, and by the time they were in the military proper they were an unofficial item. Those were difficult years - Teo didn't take well to actual combat and Will wasn't thrilled with the tactics and not a believer in the cause. He still did pretty well for himself, and would most likely have gone up through the ranks if he'd stayed with the military. He was hesitant to leave - there were parts of it he loved, like the adrenaline rush of piloting a giant, deadly machine, and there was the question of taking his income away from his family in space - but it didn't take that much convincing for him to leave.

In the year after that, he formalized his relationship with Teo, moved in with him, got a dog, ran around sky diving, climbing mountains, doing whatever other adventure activities to get his adrenaline fix, and working with a space advocacy group to try and improve colony conditions. Once news of the colony drop broke, however, Will made the decision to leave Earth and join the rebellion that his space contacts had been murmuring about for months. Knowing that Teo wouldn't come with him, especially not to fight another war, he figured the easiest way to do it was just to leave immediately. It wasn't that easy, though, since Teo rushed home and caught him packing. There was an ugly fight and angry words and since then they've only exchanged terse, encrypted emails consisting mostly of are you alive and I'm not dead.

He's spent the last few months working mainly on "acquiring" equipment and arms for space forces and skirmishing with various Terran armies.

Powers: Newtype abilities - basically a very specific form of precognition that, as it manifests in Will, mainly involves being able to read tiny body cues and micro-expressions and a mild sensitivity to ill intent, combined with extra-human reaction speed and reflexes.

Talents/Abilities:: Rock climbing, being obnoxious, being charming, trash talking, DRIVING EVERYTHING (if it can be driven/piloted/steered, he can do it. Horses/other animals are a possible exception to this, but he's never seen a real horse, so!), falling asleep anywhere and still waking up quickly and non-groggy, functioning on not a lot of sleep in general, fancy dancing, public speaking, finding ways around space-age electronic locks, landing on his feet, learning/picking up things quickly, general proficiency in the use of firearms and other war machines, well-trained in both tactical and close combat.

Personality:

• Generally comes off as charming and friendly, if cocky.


• Talks a good game and can usually back it up.


• A big fan of winning - really, really hates to lose


• As a corollary, competitive to an obnoxious degree.


• Was hot-headed and prone to picking fights as a kid but has since gotten a lot more tactical about if/when to make a confrontation physical.


• Likes dangerous sports and is, in general, something of a daredevil. Loves the adrenaline rush of doing dangerous things.


• Also a really big show off.


• Is capable of charismatic public speechifying and has done it on various occasions, ranging from the frivolous to impassioned diatribes on the treatment of the spaceborn.


• Values independence very highly.


• Gets really intense and focused on causes that matter to him. Currently getting to the point where he can't shut it off, and has obviously chosen to prioritize it over his personal life.


• Has an innate sense of fairness and an even stronger sense of justice.


• Perhaps hypocritically, has no qualms about fighting dirty or cheating a little when it comes to small stuff.


• Cares more about fairness than honor as an abstract concept.


• Sometimes vindictive and will be contrary just to be contrary if he's dealing with someone he doesn't like.


• Defaults to cool, contemptuous anger/upset. Can snap into loud, thunder and brimstone style anger and/or violence if someone finds the right buttons and pushes them hard enough.


• Extremely loyal to people he's close to and fiercely protective of those he sees as vulnerable.


• Conversely, generally disinterested in butting into the affairs of those he thinks can handle themselves.


• Decent at strategy and tries to do the whole chessmaster thing - but still prone to improvising as necessary in the field, is occasionally impetuous, and susceptible to bouts of recklessness.


• Dislikes taking orders unless absolutely necessary.


• Excellent at making snap decisions.


• Capable of emotionally disengaging from the task at hand in order to get it done.


• Not prone to talking about his feelings or inner landscape even with close friends.


• Prefers gut-level, wordless communication that doesn't require a lot of niceties and dancing around.


• Makes friends easily and is a natural at easy camaraderie, but takes a while to really trust/like people more than superficially.


• That process can be expedited by either surviving a few firefights together or having common causes.


• Likes being spoiled/coddled occasionally, especially if he's not feeling well.


• Spoils the crap out of his dog.

Object: A beat-up leather jacket that Teo got him - several sizes too large and kind of ostentatious besides, but the one he wanted - when they were sixteen and graduating from regular academy.

Gods: Eliandre and/or Gediron - he's an ex-soldier recently turned guerrilla space rebel and is generally prone to championing the disenfranchised. He is also one of those people who is both annoyingly good at things and severely immodest. Also possibly Rundas because he's a risk-taker with a wide streak of thrill-seeking.

Writing Samples
Third-Person Action Post: The first time Will sees someone die - up close, in person, without shrapnel and explosions to obscure everything - it doesn't quite register.

The base's alarms are blaring and he's racing back toward the hangar, pushing his body as fast as it'll go because they're easy targets out here in the open, and he's pretty cocky about his battle prowess but it's still hard to dodge the pulse blasts when an enemy suit comes blazing into the field. The obstacle course doesn't offer much cover, but it's they best he can do for now. He takes a breather behind a climbing wall, turning to offer a wry smile to the soldier crouching next to him - Grayson, Will thinks his name is. Grayson raises his eyebrows in response but then Grayson isn't there anymore. Grayson is a steaming mass of mangled flesh and blood spatter, and Will just stares at it for a moment, smelling burnt meat and singed hair. What's left of the wall is smoking behind him, and he's already got a burn - probably some embedded shrapnel for good measure. He doesn't feel it. It only takes him a few seconds to start moving again, dodging and weaving through the rest of the course on autopilot, focused entirely on the task of getting to the hangar alive. It's a lot easier to fight a mech suit with a mech suit.

It doesn't really hit him until later, after he surfaces from the regeneration tank, skin smooth and unscarred. Remembering it - the smell and the acrid taste at the back of his throat - makes his stomach pitch, but he clamps down on it, holds himself still until he knows he won't lose it. He can't do that. He's got three more years of this, at least, and he can't panic every time something terrible happens. There's no room for that, and it's probably the quickest way to get himself killed.

Third-Person Arrival Post:The last thing Will remembers is a flash of light. Now, waking up in an unfamiliar room, he can only assume that the operation's gone south and he's been taken prisoner. Whoever's in charge can't be all that competent, since his pulse pistol is still tucked into the holster on his hip. His comm unit is still in his ear, too, but it's silent. So, he hasn't been searched. His helmet hasn't even been removed. He can't tell from the room if he's still in the complex or somewhere else entirely. After a moment, he gets up, toggling the visor on his helmet to full transparency. He ignores the table in the center of the small room for now, skirting the perimeter to inspect it closely. Nondescript green tile, locked door. No authorization pad on the inside, of course, so no chance to jimmy it. He'll probably have to wait to see who's got him and what they want.

Checking the system readout from his flightsuit tells him the air is breathable. Will pulls off his helmet after a couple moment's contemplation and sets it down on the table. His blood goes cold when he sees his jacket there - he left that back at base. It can't be good that these people both have it and know that it's his; he's not sure what it means. The pamphlet doesn't help, there - it's propaganda. Nonsensical propaganda, even. He sets it aside.

The last item is more interesting. It seems to be something like a phone, though not like one he's ever seen. His is still tucked into an inner pocket, but this one is much larger, and it has an actual screen instead of a holoprojector. Will frowns, navigating through the various menus and options. It's connected to something, at least, which is more than he can say for either his comm or his phone, when he pulls it out to check. All he can access is the information stored on the internal chip. It might be a trap, but it's also the only option he has. The room is too small for him to attempt blasting his way out of it, especially when he doesn't know what's on the other side of the door.

Will picks the device back up and records a short, coded audio message to post to the - cohort, network, whatever. It's slim pickings, but it's worth a try.

First-Person Network Post:
[audio]

This is bravo delta 5521 , reporting code victor whiskey 93. Repeat, victor whiskey 93. Please identify, over.

[end transmission]