Post by Silas Wade on Jun 14, 2013 19:56:57 GMT -7
SILAS WADE
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◊ FULL NAME: Silas Jason Wade
◊ CODENAME: Flubber
◊ GENDER: Male...?
◊ RACE: Human.
◊ AGE: 42
◊ APPEARANCE: At first glance, Silas is a vaguely exaggerated humanoid blob. Standing at about 8 feet in height and about half again as wide as a normal man, Silas cuts an imposing figure. That is, imposing even if he weren't in a constant state of shifting motion and bright green. He is slightly translucent, but not transparent, Silas' limbs are in a constant state of enlarging and shrinking in very minute but noticeable amounts.
Silas doesn't have a good enough degree (yet...?) of control to form recognizable human features on his head appendage, but he can create a rudimentary mouth and tongue to create fairly simple languages, and stalks that resemble eyes. Silas speaking is a bit cartoonish in tone due to his gigantic "mouth and tongue", so he prefers to just write. However, due to this exaggerated face, Silas is quite adept at displaying emotion. While a rather amorphous blob, he's still completely solid, as in he doesn't leave drips of goo around where he walks.
This being said, Silas is in no way grotesque (unless he's eating). He's a very bright green color, that of healthy grass, and undulates with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The curse that was supposed to turn Silas into a monster instead created something wondrous, if a bit oddball.
◊ ATTIRE: Silas, being a giant featureless (unless he wants to be) humanoid blob, doesn't have anything to cover up with clothes. The researchers and agents of the BPRD have created a field suit for Silas that provides protection against the cold and dry, two factors that would seriously inhibit his movement.
The field suit is essentially a wetsuit, but much more pliable and stretchy. The suit is mainly without adornment, the only affectation Silas allows is the BPRD logo stitched into the collar.
◊ FACE CLAIM: From back before he was "blobbified", Ewan McGregor.
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◊ AFFILIATION: BPRD
◊ PROFESSION: Former mailman, at present, a newly promoted field agent for the BPRD, specializing in reconnaissance and heavy-hitting backup.
◊ PERSONALITY: The most important part of Silas' existence is that he is ecstatic, absolutely thrilled to be under the "curse" that changed his body. Silas always hated being "just a normal guy". He spent more hours of his time dreaming and wishing he was something else than actually trying to change his life. In his eyestalks, Silas is living his dream of being something special. In his former life he was a selfish man, the only thing he cared about was a quick way to get something he wanted.
The destruction of modern civilization changed all of that.
For years, Silas had to wander the wasteland of what used to be the heartland of humanity as a freak and an outsider. He's been shot and left for dead, screamed at, run away from, run out of makeshift shantytowns with only the light of torches giving him sight to run away by. This changed his outlook on life and personality greatly. Silas is enthusiastic about pretty much everything, but he hates layabouts and doesn't get introverts. This may make him just a bit overbearing, but for those who can stand it, Silas makes a steadfast friend.
Beneath, or rather, alongside all of this he holds a deep-seated hatred of the intolerant, Nuada's Army and certain humans in particular. It isn't a poisonous hatred, but rather a "Hey, I kinda hate these guys so I will stay far far away from them". Because of this, Silas doesn't quite take the various threats around the former United States very seriously. Nuada is in a whole different world in his mind.
◊ ABILITIES: Silas is a pseudo-amorphous humanoid green blob. He can change his shape, but only into one shape. Silas' "normal" shape is that of a limbless blob, but because he spent 20-some odd years as a human, he is able to take the shape of a humanoid. Silas cannot, for example, become the shape of a cat because Silas never once was a cat. He instinctually knows how the muscles in the human body work when they move together and can replicate that (to a highly exaggerated extent) while taking on his humanoid form.
Silas can take mass from one part of his "body" and shove it in another, giving him the ability to rapidly shift weight around (and giving him one hell of a left hook). The material that makes up Silas' body is very high in elasticity, also affording him with the ability to launch himself great distances. This is no doubt where his codename, "Flubber", came from. The leadership of the BPRD was apparently a fan of 90's Robin Williams movies.
Silas' "body" is also highly resilient and almost self-propagating. While it cannot extend beyond the mass of what it is now (about the 8 foot tall extremely wide humanoid), mass lost through it being cut off or otherwise damaged is regrown over the course of hours/days/weeks, depending on how much was lost. Silas theorizes that because of this, the total destruction of his body is the only thing that could cause death, but it would take months, even years for him to regrow himself from a small part of his body.
Furthermore, if a part were to be shorn off of Silas, he can reform with the lost part and greatly accelerate the mending process, if not completely bypass it.
On a more biologically oriented standpoint, Silas' membrane can become porous at will, which allows him to gain sustenance from the millions of microscopic and very small insects/bugs/whatever scurrying around. Normally, Silas likes to eat the food at the base (or his own home-cooked meals), which just kind of get shoved in his head appendage and float there until digested by enzymes. It is fairly disgusting. However, eating the insects and other microscopic animals still tastes the same as it would to a normal human, so this is only used as a *very* last resort. The same would go for absorbing trace amounts of water, though Silas needs about twice the amount of hydration a normal human does per day. This is somewhat alleviated by natural osmosis.
◊ SKILLS: Silas' only glimmer of genius before the invasion of the Golden Army was the fact that he was a killer cook. "Recipes are for other people", was one of his favorite sayings. The time spent wandering the wastelands has since removed his desire to loaf around doing nothing, turning him into a bit of a workhorse. Because of this (and his generally helpful personality), he often spends his day running around doing favors for other people and is somewhat neglectful of things he needs to keep his life in order.
Silas is rather intelligent, nothing to write home about, but he can speak Spanish near-fluently due to his previous residence in southern Texas. He can perform menial and tedious tasks without much complaint and actually with some amount of enjoyment, though Silas is still working on his fine motor control (so he really shouldn't be allowed around small mammals).
◊ WEAKNESSES: Silas' has two main enemies, the cold and the dry. Extremes of both render his body just as ineffective as a normal human's, the cold being far more dangerous. Silas has gotten very good at keeping himself well-hydrated, but long-term exposure to arid climates without proper hydration will gradually shrink Silas' body as it tries to retain moisture.
Silas is also extremely trusting to the point of gullibility, he believes that until proven otherwise, everyone is a good person. His naivete has caused him many problems in the past and will continue to do so. He considers many members of the BPRD as an extended family, and is very protective of all of them, a direct threat to them would cause Silas to start freaking out hardcore. Along with this, he has pushed the direct threat of Nuada and the roaming monsters of the wastelands to the back of his head after being with the BPRD for many years. Not many attacks, just business as usual. This could compromise his effectiveness as one of the BPRD's newest field agents.
◊ EQUIPMENT: Silas doesn't carry many things around with him, but his field suit comes with a rudimentary moisture collector and absorption mechanism (think of an extremely rudimentary version of a stillsuit from Dune. Silas carries no weapons, as he lacks the motor control to use a gun effectively and a knife is pointless when you can hit someone with the force of a small car. He does, however, carry a various amount of light-emitting objects, such as flashlights and high-powered glowsticks, as the material that makes up his body is very good at refracting light.
◊ RESIDENCE: Silas has a room inside the BPRD base, as many of the "odd" agents and employees do. In the years since he joined the organization, his room has gradually changed. There is no dresser, or conventional bed, and his closet is completely empty (all attempts at wearing clothing have been disastrous so far). Silas' "bed" is now a padded and blanket ridden 10'-by-10' ceramic bowl. Every feature of the room is "super-sized", due to his very large size.
The only out-of-place oddity is a normal-sized desk in the corner, absolutely cluttered with different pictures of human faces and mirrors. Silas uses this to attempt to practice his fine-motor control, but he rarely gets the free-time to do so.
◊ FAMILY:Mr. and Mrs. Wade (First names unknown, parents): Presumed deceased.
Gloria DiCarlo (Deceased, fiancee).
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◊ HISTORY:Silas Jason Wade lived a normal, albeit extremely boring life. He was a loafer, a scoundrel, a womanizer, and a bit of a liar. Never in his 20 years of life did he once have a direction, aside from "how can I get out of work this time?". But more than anything, he wished to be something more. This was the main reason he and his fiancee, Gloria DiCarlo had a falling out. She was a childhood friend-turned-lover of Silas', but was driven, focused, everything he was not.
They loved each other, make no mistake, but Silas would have been taxing for anyone to have been around.
In an effort to prove to his soon-to-be wife that he was serious about his life, he attempted to join the military but was rejected on grounds of a non-threatening-but-still-important heart condition. That was his last resort to find direction. Silas wasn't ever a strong-willed man, and simply gave up on finding a meaningful purpose to his life. One day, all of his dreams, all of his nightmares, and all of his deepest wishes came true.
The morning started out like any other, cheerios, television, and a bit of a wade through the mountain of dirty laundry which made up his doorway. The program on the TV was some fantasy flick about a mechanized army laying waste to New York. It took Silas a good half an hour to figure out that it wasn't some program, not some fantasy movie, but a news station. He, like the rest of the civilian population, sat, stunned.
That was hard enough to get past. Humans weren't alone, nay, humans were almost in the minority. Like many people far from the front lines, Silas attempted to push the facts to the back of his head and concentrated on keeping up a somewhat normal life.
Not soon after, the skies themselves ripped open, red veins of vile magic crossing the heavens like a chainlink fence. Silas thought it was the end of the world, fantastical creatures poured into the world once thought only occupied by his kind. His house shook once, twice, and then all was blackness. He awoke to a changed land, days later.
His house was devastated, a mockery of the proud building it once was. The Georgian architechture seemed to mock him, a remnant of what the world once was! Communities were formed, but not for Silas. His beloved, his fiancee, the light of his life, was dead. Fate does not pick favorites. Silas hardened himself to the world. He would not be strong for her, according to Silas, she wasn't strong enough to live for him. For if she really loved him, wouldn't she have stuck around?
His head wasn't in exactly the correct place.
Six years had passed since the day the world ended. Six years of Silas living in no-mans-land. Six years of hardship and hatred, distrust and fear. He had nearly been killed more times than he could count, and couldn't remember the number of lives he had to end just for their food, water, and supplies. There was no law in what was once Texas aside from one. Central Texas was a deadzone, no one who went in ever returned. The rest of the survivors banded together with friends and family in tight-knit communities. Others created roving bands which preyed upon these communities.
And still, others who had no one wandered the wastelands of the South alone. They stole, killed, and clawed their way towards a life. Morality was discarded completely in these years for all citizens of no-man's-land. Those who had the strength of heart to stand by their convictions were quickly dispatched. In this case, the weak of purpose overtook the strong. It was an odd world.
Scarred, dirty, and broken of mind and body, Silas soon found an urge to settle down somewhere. The lifestyle he was living was quite literally killing him. It was unheard of for a loner to live as long as he did, and every day he was alive was another roll of the dice. He knew as much, and the metaphor took over his life. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw dice of stone and bone rolling, clacking through his mind. He dreaded seeing them roll, but dreaded even more seeing them stop. He carried dice around with him at all times, the metaphor soon becoming a staple in his fractured mind, keeping it together.
One day, he came upon a house. An oddity in no-mans-land, there was no makeshift wire surrounding it, the windows were unmarred, unboarded glass. Lights were flickering in the windows.
Silas grinned, a feral grin.
This was not an ordinary house, inhabited by no ordinary woman. This was a witch. A witch with enough knowledge of black magics to comfortably live in no-mans-land. He crossed her threshold with ill-intent and was forever cursed. She gave him purpose, she took from him his human form. The curse was meant to create an abomination, a freak of nature.
Silas stumbled away from her hut, his skin sloughing off of his body, and for the second time in years, the world spun and went dark.
Awakening was traumatic. He no longer had limbs, sight, or hearing. It took years for him to regain these faculties and even more years for him to create his humanized form he so loves. He resolved to reform his ways, Silas thought that becoming a good person would reverse the curse. When fairy tales come to life, maybe a fairy tale solution is what works! It did not, and still has not.
He tried to help people in need, but was chased off every time he tried to do so. For years he wandered the wastes again. Silas heard rumors that there was a safe haven for humanity, especially for those who exhibited odd traits in what used to be the American West. He eventually made his way to the outskirts of Denver and looked for more information regarding this organization. Unable to actually enter the city without creating huge outcry, he stayed away from most population centers. The "Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense", they were called, and after much trying, they took him in. They taught him that his curse was a gift as well, and showed him how to help people with it.
The BPRD has been Silas' home ever since, and he has taken to it like a fish to water. However, Nuada and his army is still out in the world, No-man's-land is still around, and Demons still roam the wastes. Forgetting the witch who had cursed him, Silas has resolved to help make the world a better place, one cookie at a time if need be.
