What was your character's dream, before getting shipped to Tartarus? Was there anything in particular your character dreamed of accomplishing someday?
The light, the dark, then the light again. I almost saw Him with my inner eye - the one that's always covered with the eyepatch. His Noodly Appendages touched me very softly, and I felt much pleasure, and a booming voice like a thunder told me: "I'm really really, really bored." What to reply, I knew not; and after an awkward pause, He touched me again, and said, "Go, go whence no man has made pasta before; go and bring those poor souls to the warmth and medium fat content of the pasta bowl, and ye might yet find yer own salvation!"
A sudden light appeared, and a host of strippers came with barrels of grog and rum and honey wine, and He flapped His Noodly Appendages around, and said, 'Shit. I'm bored. Let's have a party!"
I woke up on a wooden bench in the park, having no clothes and with a terrible, terrible headache. But I knew what must be done.
List a few ways your character's personality could develop and/or change over the course of the story.
What really sets your character apart from other characters, and makes your character unique?
What's a serious flaw your character has, that he/she has difficulty overcoming even when it matters most? Feel free to list more than one.
- He eats way too much;
- He sleeps way too much;
- He likes men way too much;
- He likes women way too much;
- He relies on his faith more than on his actual capabilities.
Does your character have any interests? Hobbies? Passions or strong opinions? Relate two or more of these.
His work, his past-time, his hobby and his life is dedicated to only one thing - bringing more people into the Light of the Church. Oh, and he's exceptionally good at sailing and drinking grog.
Tell a short story about something that happened between your character and someone they were close to before they got shipped to Tartarus.
Tell a short story about a scenario where your character is forced to leave an ally behind to finish the mission.
"Grogul, get into cover, now!"
Young man begun ducking, but it was too late. The high-velocity projectile hit him in the head, its plastic casing shattering into tiny bits that continued moving through flesh, bone and brain at several kilometres per second. His entire head exploded, leaving nothing but a stump of his neck.
"Noooo! Nooooo! NOOOOOOO!"
The fire was coming at him now; Ishmael's PSI shields started failing one after another, but he no longer cared. He'd die here, on this ugly rock close to his faithful companion, and they'll both enter His kingdom after the life of service to the FSM. He transferred all his mental energy towards offensive weapons, and with a quick prayer, fired his electro-amp unit, and, just as he closed his eyes and prepared to die, was swept from his feet by an enormous shockwave. After he got up, he saw only Grogul's headless corpse, and remains of the enemy fighting vehicle, still glowing hot from the explosion. His electro-amp fried the power core, making it fail in an instant.
"Why…oh FSM, why? WHY?"
He gently lifted Grogul's body from the ground. There was no beer and no ramen to go with, and no sea to conduct a proper funeral. With hundreds of miles till the extraction point, he could not bring the body with him.
"I'm sorry, my dearest friend. FSM's willed me to continue the road, and I shall do his bidding. I am sure that's how you'd want it, too. I shall never forget you."
He put the body into what remained of the fighting vehicle, and it took fire instantly.
"He was like a meatball fondled by the tiny hands of youth,
before it is seasoned
and tenderized
and baked;
Let him find peace and warmth at thy side.
Ramen!"
Ishmael, his eyes in tears, turned East and continued walking towards the extraction point.
Tell a short story about a scenario where your character dies in what he/she would consider the best way possible.
Tell a short story about a scenario where your character would be in his/her element.
"The sinning was in the air, they said. I've been there among the Unbelievers, a poor, lost soul. And then, an old man wearing an eyepatch came into the room. He looked at us, and in his eyes I saw the depth of all my mistakes. The man started singing in low, forceful voice, and as I listened, the tears started rolling from my eyes.
He is like a sweater that enfolds me in ragu with meatballs.
His delicious smell wafts unto me as a song that would fill my ears,
Or as the touch of his Noodly Appendage opens my eyes and brings to me a taste
Of divine understanding as if his Meatballs have spoken to my skin.
I cried, and cried, and then, suddenly, I understood that I found peace. I was no longer lost. I fell on my knees, and started praying, and my eyes filled with tears again - but those were tears of joy, for I was saved. Doctor Ishmael - he saved me. We threw a party that night, and drunk, and danced, and I was one with the world and laughing as if I were a kid again, and Doctor Ishmael came to me with a huge mug of grog, and took a healthy sip of it, and said to me: "That's some good shit". I've never seen Doctor Ishmael again, but since that day, I knew that whenever I was in doubt, the FSM would always be there for me."
Tell a short story about a scenario where your character is forced to make a difficult decision.
Two rum bottles looked almost identical. The volume was the same, the labels were unintelligible, and he had money only for one. He could, of course, invoke the Pirate Rule and take both bottles, but it was a friendly place, staffed by True Believers. And he respected them too much to just take whatever he wanted.
"Arrr! Me throat is as dry as oolek's shit under the Aldebarani sun! Owner, hark! Me be in the need of some good advice. Which of those bottles be the best for a humble servant of His Noodliness?
" 'Dat is hard to say, yer grace! Both are excellent spirits, soft and strong! You can't go wrong choosing any of them!"
" 'Dis is true, my friend! But I must decide, and decide I can't! "
" Do you wish me to choose for ye, esteemed Pirate?"
" Arrr! That be making it easier! "
When Ishmael returned home, he opened the bottle, and uttered a long, sincere prayer for the health of simple folk who made his life of sacrifice and servitude worth living.
And then, he drunk all of it.
