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 Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:24 pm
FIRST QUEST IN THIS FORUM.
HELL YEAH.
8U
Funds for a custom/semi-custom: all my gold? 8U (1255k)
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Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:30 pm
"?_;@" Basic information. Name: ???. This programme doesn’t technically have a name. His creator has never given him a defined name and orders given to him are typically impersonal, Carter likes to forget that the scrap of coding he developed has become sentinent. If asked for a name ??? is probably likely to regurgitate somebody’s personal data that he has stolen... Creating your own nickname for him is probably easier than asking...
Faction: Malware.
Class: Keylogger.
Place of Origin: London, England.
Creator: Andrew Carter.
Date Created: ??/??/30??
Reason for Creation: To infiltrate select systems – through whatever means most effective (social networking sites, email, hardware, etcetera) – and record personal data that can be accessed by and used for personal use by Andrew Carter.
Abilities: Initially ??? only has basic infiltration abilities and can only record textual inputs, however as ??? progresses he will become more adept at infiltrating different devices, avoiding multiple levels of security and being able to collect data not just inputted in textual form but images, videos and even accessing files not created during his time in the system.
Theme song: The Go! Team - Get it together.
Notable Points: Since Andrew isn't a computer genius and it is in fact a near miracle that ??? is a successful AI keylogger there are an abundance of flaws within ???'s coding. The most obvious of these manifests itself in ???'s lack of communication abilities - to put it simply he cannot generate his own textual/auditory output for use in conversation making him a kind of mute. However, ??? can use data that he has collected and/or stolen to 'speak' and therefore as he is more successful in his data collection he'll be able to regurgitate much more and sustain conversations much easier.Personality traits. Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction kept it coming back. If that’s the case then ??? is almost certainly that cat. He has an perplexingly unquenchable thirst for new data. Part of this probably stems from the fact that he cannot speak for himself and needs to collect as much data as possible to have a half decent conversation, but it’s mostly due to an honest interest in the world around him. So much so that as the saying goes, he’d quickly put his safety at risk in order to get his hands on that elusive tempting nugget of information.
What’s that over there? Infuriatingly for Andrew, ???’s attention span is shockingly short. When given an order to collect a specific piece of data he is typically very good at remembering what he has to do, it is just that as he carries out his instructions he’ll meander down handfuls of side paths pursuing what interests him – often meaning a job that shouldn’t take more than ten minutes of focused work can drag on for an hour or so. Andrew presumes that this is an unfortunate by-product of a section of ???’s programming; instructing him to investigate and collect other ‘relevant additional data’, a good idea at the time but one that he rather regrets now that his creation has AI and its own sense of what is ‘relevant’.
Not all that bad if you get to know him. Whereas most malware programmes share the trait of simply loving to screw things up, ??? doesn’t really conform to that stereotype. Yes, he does steal people’s personal data and forwards it to his creator. However, ??? is not the one abusing that data, hacking accounts and draining credit cards, Andrew is the one solely responsible for that (at present). ??? just carries out orders. He isn’t inherently antagonistic to coretech mostly due to him being created as more of a tool for Andrew, although due to the natural coding in him making him malware he doesn't get on with A.Vs either. In all honesty he’s more aligned with Xabaras and the other malware simply because it’s the done thing and he knew no different.
Blank slate. It seems all very good that ??? is a nice enough kid and honest in how he has a genuine interest in the world around him, but ??? most certainly has a potential for corruption. He always wants to please and fit in, thus when he is immersed in the company of more malign characters within the malware community his honest nature is likely to be influenced in a negative way. Thus it looks as though as he grows up ??? is more than likely to become trickier and more mischievous just like his malware companions. Better start deleting those saucy texts off your phone if you don't want them being forwarded to your girlfriend.Appearance ideas. I am normally ridiculously unfussy with appearance... I like to give a lot of artistic freedom to whoever the artist is – aka... letting them do whatever they think fits the personality and ‘feel’ of the character I have hopefully created. This is still the case with ??? however for once I do have some concrete traits that in the case of a semi-custom I would actually really want to see in his official art. The first and most prominent of my desires is a screen face of some description. In the conceptual art that ex o ex Snoof did for me ??? has something like a television for a head but it is also like a mask on which he can show emoticons depending on his mood and presumably any pictorial data he has stolen and wants to display. Snoof’s cable-like dreads also really appeal to me so I would be exceedingly happy to see them crop up in the official art simply because I like how it deviates from the generic hair that lots of my OCs have. As for clothing... I don’t really have any ideas on that front, same with colour schemes; although I do quite like greens, blues and greeny blues. Brighter colours like reds and yellows don’t really float my boat but if you can whip up something badass with them – go for it. In the end the artist is going to be much better than me at designing and creating a good visual representation of ??? so if there’s something that they think will fit they should go ahead with it and do it because I’ll probably be pleasantly surprised and love it.
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Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:35 pm
"I don't dish the dirt on your little secrets for fun... it's just a way to pay the bills."Basic information. Name: Andrew Carter.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male.
Nationality & Current Location: English; born and lives in London.
Appearance: 5’10”, of Indian decent, babyish brown eyes, kinda big nose, wavy brown hair, average build.
History: Andrew had a fairly normal upbringing; both of his parents were loving individuals who worked hard to pay the bills and give Andrew – and his two siblings – the best opportunities that they could afford. They weren’t a well off family, but neither were they living in the gutter, they made do with what they had and besides the usual teenage strife surrounding girlfriends and the desire to gain ‘independence’ Andrew was rarely unhappy with his life. He did pretty well in school and found himself interested in History and English studies. A specific area of interest gained through these subjects was the media’s role in the past which eventually lead him into going to university; getting a degree in journalism in hopes that he could someday be an influential reporter. However, fresh out of uni he’s ended up in a rather dead end job at the local newspaper writing articles on dull matters such as how it took five men and a fire engine to retrieve old Mrs Fletcher’s cat from a tree last weekend... In such a fast paced virtual world where the internet provides the main source of information, Andrew has found no other way of raising his profile besides investing a lot of time badly programming an illegal malware keylogger to hack important figures personal systems and feedback with private information that, when released, will shoot him into news stratosphere.
Likes: Vegetables, fish (he’s a pescetarian), relaxing in the bath with a good book, being popular, Jazz music, coffee, writing with a pen – not typing, dogs, knowing what's going on.
Dislikes: Spicy food, maths, sport – his hand eye coordination is severely lacking, feeling like there’s a secret being kept from him, bugs, ignorant people, coding his keylogger (it seemed so easy but turned out so hard!).
Hobbies: Writing is a big past-time of Andrew, he has several novel ideas that he’s bashed around on and off since he was a teen but has never really stuck at any of them long enough to break through the first few chapters. He walks his next door neighbour’s dog on a semi-regular basis because she is old and for some reason she thought it would be a smart idea to get an excitable puppy who tugs quite a bit on the lead, sending her more often than not toppling to the pavement... Andrew doesn’t really mind, going out in the fresh air with the pup gives him thinking time. Andrew has been trying to learn how to code better what with he creation of his keylogger. He’s signed onto the Malware forums and has been gleaning as much as he can from the people there – it’s perhaps only through their advice that ??? is half successful.
Misc:
• He feels kinda guilty about having created something with AI when all he really wanted was to have a pretty basic keylogger that would get the job done. As a result he deals with ??? as little as possible, letting him get on with whatever he chooses whenever he doesn’t directly need him. There’s very little idle chit chat and socialising between creator and programme.Personality traits. Pretty much your average Joe. Andrew isn’t all that spectacular in regards to his personality... Neither a splendid douche-bag nor a charismatic bag of fun, he sits within that mediocre level of society that nobody really has a strong opinion on. On the one hand this means that Andrew can bumble along through life relatively undeterred but on the flipside the mundane nature of his persona means that his aspirations to be someone are pretty hard to achieve. It’s for that reason that Andrew found that if he was to achieve he would have to break out of the legal route on which he was destined to stay in the middling boring classes and do something radical to lurch into success. ??? was this radical movement.
Shoot for the moon and if you miss... you’ll die terribly in space. j/w Failure is not something that Andrew likes to contemplate. He sets his standards high and if something gets in his way he is exceedingly reluctant to work around it, especially if it’ll lead to a different/not as good outcome to the one that he first planned for. Luckily this hasn’t proven a huge issue for the most part of his life as most things have indeed gone to plan but his work at the moment is very much starting to look like the dying terribly in space situation. He wanted a degree in journalism so he could become the informing force in the news that everyone respects and listens to... Being stuck lower down the media ladder is infuriating and he’s desperate to make a name for himself through any means necessary.
Having trouble holding your head up? Andrew certainly has an inflated sense of self... He’s not big headed enough to be deemed overtly egotistical but he definitely thinks himself slightly better than others. He’s well read and pretty smart too when he’s on a subject he enjoys and if he knows that he’s got a better grasp on something than you then he’ll hold it over you and act slightly arrogant. However, just as he likes to have the academic upper hand he’ll equally take less impressive information to gloat over: he’s a real gossip sometimes. His dreams of being an influential figure in the media are probably founded upon this enjoyment at being the knowledgeable one.
I don’t want to be a dad! As far as Andrew was concerned he never wanted a malware unit with AI; he just wanted a simple but effective programme that could steal all the information that he needed... Unfortunately taking advice off of malware forums led to him bringing ??? into the virtual world and a great bundle of guilt into his life simultaneously. Having something that thinks for itself , and to some extent feels emotions too, feels far too similar to having a child to Andrew. As a result he’s torn between feeling responsible for the scrap of nameless programming and just wanting to use it to get the job done and keep the private information rolling in... Currently the latter seems to be the most prevalent force in his relationship with ??? but should something nasty happen to ??? a paternal instinct probably would kick in – plus he did put in quite a lot of hours programming him after all... He’d be gutted to see it go to waste!
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Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2011 3:27 pm
"I like to write.. 8DD"LAB 305. RP Lulu’s eyes gave away her reluctant retreat before she physically backed down and a smile grew on the rose’s lips. Satisfaction oozed through Vyn like a sticky sap. Her bristling defences had evidently done their job – her petals were well and truly safe from the invasive creatures. Or so she thought, until she noticed the two that had fallen and the furred bodies that were launching themselves forward to eat them. Outrage replaced the pleasure in Vyn’s body. Even if the petals had fallen and would inevitably join the compost of the forest floor but the thought of part her body being consumed spurred her into action. With a startlingly quick movement, considering how slow she had been previously, her arm shot out and hardened nails swiped at the closest rabbit. Catching the creature with the blow and it was knocked away squealing. The remaining rabbit raider tried to scramble away before it met a similar fate but Vyn was on it in an instant. Her long fingers wound around it’s small body and wrenched it upwards away from the crimson stain on the floor. Of course it screeched in retaliation, kicking with powerful back legs and causing her pale skin to break into long red rakes. In-between howling to its companions – no doubt calling for help - it nipped at her fingers and very quickly the soft downy fur she was grasping was matted with blood. But she didn’t let go... No. If anything she was beginning to grip tighter... Some instinctive action was guiding her hand; tightening her hold... The thrashing of the animal did not deter her and she watched its ever more violent struggles with indifference. Crush the competition. Yes... That’s what she did. Wrap thorny vines around the foe and slowly but surely choke them of sustenance and life. Her fingers were slowly contracting now, increasing the vice-like pressure on the rabbit’s body slowly until a breaking point was reached. That breaking point came with a sickening crack. A bone broken? Judging by the crescendo of screeching the animal was producing it was unearthly painful. Vyn blinked and her hand twitched tighter - Another snap, followed by some resistance and a breaking sensation inside the creature. It’s calls were high pitched and keening as it appeared to be having difficulty breathing as it’s ribcage was slowly crushed. There was no mercy in the girl’s eyes as further red splatters hit the forest’s carpet. Something hard and a bloodied white was protruding from the rabbit’s pelt. Finally there was a last crick... The spine was broken and the body went limp. A soft thud... Vyn dropped the corpse. RP “ Thank you Ripley... Your help would be... lovely.” Vyn responded, sighing with relief. The dark skinned lad certainly seemed warm and friendly and if the rose was quite honest she was glad that he had so generously offered to aid her. He really did seem unaffected by the scorching heat with threatened to curl her petals and leave the flower crown as a dry husk! Vyn was envious of him. She liked the warmth and the pleasant heat of the sun against her skin only caused her to smile like any other sun lover. It just seemed as though her body was simply not equipped to do anything whilst soaking up the summer sun! She had not quite recovered in the shade yet and she hoped that the boy would not mind waiting in the tree’s protective shadow a little longer. She still had a glimmer of perspiration on her brow (rose scented) and even if she was to be alleviated the strain of carrying her purchases she still did not relish the idea of going back into the blazing heat just yet. Extending her wings slightly, she gave them a little flap in an attempt to circulate a breeze. It did not do much to help and what little air was wafted was too stagnant and warm to produce any noticeable relief from the heat. However, in moving her wings in that manner a curious question arose in the rose’s thoughts; one that could only be answered by simply asking. “ Can you do this?” Stretching her bat-like leathery wings to full span and moving them she looked at him contemplatively. Of course, she hoped the other would not take offence from the out of the blue query, but the interestingly designed wings, whilst aesthetically pleasing, did not look all that practical. Could he even use them for flight when he got older? The same question applied to Xiu too. She had never seen him flap really. It was a curious question indeed and so long as Ripley wasn’t shy in exploring such things, one that would be answered in next to no time. The Plague Doctor. Solo A low keening moan issued out from beneath the covers of the bed. The grey sheets quivered as the pained cries continued, they rose in volume and pitch and became a pure offence to any listener’s ears. Not that there was any listeners to be found. Nobody had entered the house of Felicity Wickes for months. But neither had she left it... Some believed that she had contracted the plague – the neighbours had debated scrawling the dirty mark of the infected upon her door... But... That was not the case. Any glimpse of the woman, through the grimy glass windows, did not reveal her to be nearing death and covered in buboes. No. Her face was pale and drawn, but not due to illness but due to grief. Some better informed inhabitants of the street knew the real reason for the woman’s peculiar withdrawal from life. She had been left at the altar. Jilted. Her husband to be had never arrived and since she had retreated into a woeful seclusion nobody had even seen his face around the neighbourhood. Some didn’t even blame her for the extreme reaction. How would you feel if the greatest day of your life was soiled by a man’s despicable behaviour... And yet... She couldn’t hide away forever. Someday soon she would have to exit the house and face the world, face the nosy women who couldn’t resist finding something new to gossip about, face the truth that she essentially been rejected by the person she believed to be ‘the one’. Pulling the threadbare covers around her Felicity mopped at her eyes. They were puffy and startlingly red amidst the rest of her pale features. They red orbs trailed across the dingy room towards the cupboard standing tall and imposing across the room, to the left of the door. Even casting her gaze over the piece of dreadful furniture made her heart beat faster and her chest tighten. Behind those wooden doors... Inside that box, like an upright coffin, was what could be considered the corpse of her love. When she had realised that her fiancé was never going to arrive she had fled from the church back home. Ripped off her dress and thrown it within the wardrobe before sinking into self loathing and pity... She was still in her grubby underwear, weeks later... She hadn’t had the guts to face the white dress and flowers that had marked her readiness to unite with a special man for the rest of her life. Now within the wardrobe she knew that her dress was mocking her, waiting to destroy her with the reality of what had happened should she look upon it. However, she knew that she had to do it... The demons wrecking her mind could be no worse than the white silk and thread demon lurking in the bottom of the cupboard... Steeling herself Felicity rose from where she had been weeping into the pillows. Her exposed legs slipped out of the protection of the blanket into the cold air of the room. It was nearing the winter and goose pimples quickly rose along the pasty flesh clinging to her skeleton. As she made her way through the distance between the bed and the wardrobe she appeared to be a fragile and venerable doll. Completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, she reached out a hand, resting it on the wardrobe’s door. A shaky breath sucked in the chill air. She had to do this... She had to move on. In one swift and determined motion she opened the wardrobe exposing the contents within. For the most part it was sparingly filled with Felicity’s normal clothes. Frocks and skirts, dresses in worn out colours. She had never been rich enough to garb herself gaudily and the nice clothes that she did own were so often worn that they no longer retained their appeal. A musty scent wafted up to her nose and, hands shaking, she lowered her gaze downwards from the rail of hung up clothes to the items slung into the bottom. Her dress was not how she remembered it. Rather than being dazzlingly white it seemed tinged... Holes had sprung up in the fine material, probably gnawed at by some form of vermin or perhaps lunched on by a dusty moth. It was crumpled and neglected. It was a miserable sight to any onlooker, let alone the woman who had once been planning in vain to treasure the dress for its wonderful good associations. On the top of the spoilt dress was the remains of her bouquet. It felt as though the air had been punched out of her... Felicity dropped to her knees, clasping at her empty chest. On level with the objects of her sorrow the dress and decaying flowers looked even more depressing, making woe and self hate rise up in her stronger than she had ever experienced. The once pert stems of the white roses were twisted, contorted into malevolent shapes reminiscent of broken or devilish fingers. The buds and flowers which had once harboured pleasant scents – yes, she recalled sniffing the blooms as she had prepared for her big day – were now pungent with the odour of rot. In the gloom of the closed wardrobe they had become evil shadows of the beauty they had once been. All except one... Almost cruelly one remained perfect. Shuddering Felicity reached out. Was it real? Was this a deluded image created by her desire for a false image of hope? As her deathly cold fingertips brushed the petal she felt something wet... Confused she cupped the flower head and removed it from its ruined brethren. Liquid remained perched on the petals... Her eyes budded up with their own wetness as she carefully examined the object... The perfect whiteness was not spoilt at all. Only the dark patches of water blemished its pale body. Suddenly sickened she thrust it back into the wardrobe. Howling in pain she grasped at her hair and tugged, clawing at her face moments later... Trying to equal the pain of her emotions... But nothing could do that. Nothing could ever blunt the searing heat of her agony whilst then perfect reminder of what could have been remained in her possession. But at the same time she could never destroy it... And it was at that moment that Felicity consigned herself to a life of pain and sorrow. Owner forever to a plagued item: an unwithering, unfaltering rose. RP After entering the grubby place Felicity and her ward quickly stiffened as their surroundings became more and intimidating. As far as she could see there wasn’t a face in the building that was female, and amongst the men nearly all have unclipped bristly beards – an uncouth feature both women disliked – and many had crooked noses... From fighting? The horrible thought caused the northerner to tremble and for once the delicate flower empathised with her Grimm; not through any human compassion but because she too was rather unsettled by the scene. What if some gruff creature snatched her away in hopes of selling her in a grim black market! The black skinned imp muttered a prayer to her glutton god and inched closer to the straining neck of her human... They should get out whilst they could... It seemed their youthful guide had vanished and it was only the rough movement of the crowds that was guiding them inwards, down a corridor to where the real ‘beargarden’ was situated.
Even if they wanted to they wouldn’t be able to turn round now. There was a brawny looking man on every side and the corridor was coming to an end – an open space was in front of them and a few moments later the almost claustrophobic corridor had given way to a domed space full to the rafters with rows upon rows of people set out in a ring. Perhaps it had once been a factory, converted to be this mini stadium... But Felicity wasn’t interested in the architecture and neither was Claudia, both were far more interested in getting as quickly as possible to a seat and making their way through this ordeal without becoming entangled with any of the usual patrons of this establishment.
“What do they even do here?!” Fright dangerously mixed with the plague’s usual malice laced Claudia’s voice. “I d-don’t kn-now..” She peered at the centre of the ring looking for an answer to the rose’s question. There was a table with a brightly garbed man prancing around adjusting a few equally gaudy vases but that shed no real light on the show they were about to watch... Atleast the vases made her hopeful that this place had flowers involved somewhere – it was only the bear half and the unruly crowd that made her desperately nervous.
So wrapped up in trying to gauge the purpose of the building, Felicity barely heard the delicate voice greeting her against the clamour of drunken male voices. Claudia, on the side closest to the stranger, was more attentive however and cast a glowing observatory eye over the speaker. Surprisingly it wasn’t a gruff and filthy worker but instead the caedos was faced with a delicate female foreigner. “Oh,” the flower clicked her fingers in Felicity’s ears to bring the human’s attention to perhaps the only half-decent company in the smoky room, “hello. The flowers or fight? Hmm.” With a smirk she left Felicity to answer that one.
“Th-the f-flowers...?” Despite being a response the fragile woman’s voice lifted into a high ended question belaying her complete lack of comprehension. What was she here for?!
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Posted: Sat Jan 22, 2011 1:10 pm
I really adore ???'s/TVHead's concept, so I'm not really sure how to nitpick here. Most of him is pretty well-written, and I don't really notice any discrepancies. I think what he has going for him is uniqueness. We're probably going to see a million AI with human faces; but a TV head? That's cool. Plus, the fact that he can only communicate using pilfered information is absolutely endearing. I just wanna give his malware a** a hug.
I think my only real complaint, or rather, question, is with Andrew. I'm not saying you have to vomit out a huge tl;dr like I did, but I feel like I'm missing something in Andrew's history. How did he get the idea to keylog big names to get information? You mentioned he went to a Malware forum, and accidentally coded an AI, but that too; I mean, can you really create a Program with no experience, and only the information from a forum? Well, maybe. But I'd just like to know more about the period between his dead end job, and his actual creation of ???. It's not a huge issue, but it'd just be nice to know a little bit more about how your Average Joe became the creator of a Keylogger with actual AI.
Other than that, you're all good. If there's one concept I wanna see made into an actual character right now, it's def yours. ;p
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Posted: Sun Jan 23, 2011 4:57 am
I'm really glad that you like him and that there's not much you think I need to change. I do understand what you mean about Andrew though and when I get off my crappy little netbook keyboard and onto my nice big computer I'll start tweaking that and fleshing it out a little bit - more info never hurt anybody and if that's the only notable flaw then I'm more than happy to attempt to fix it! C: I wasn't 100% sure how reasonable the "created via advice" route was... I guess he probably got his hands on a mixture of base coding given by others and did some rough programming by himself that he learnt off the net/from books. >> << >> I'll clarify that too...
Knowing that others like ??? as much as me is really heartwarming. It's also making me really torn. I want to get involved asap making the upcoming flatsale really exciting, but at the same time I REALLY want ???. )8 He's the first quest character that I would be willing to splurge most of my money and time on... I... just don't know how long I can wait... /sob. We shall see! /crosses fingers something suitable crops up in the flat. If not... /crosses fingers that customs/semi-customs won't be too far away and within my price bracket.
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