Post by Deleted on Oct 12, 2019 10:29:14 GMT -5
Who am I? Just a conscience!
Introduce yourself
Hey, howdy, hey! The name's Chris, and I wished upon a star from Discord. My other imaginary friends include N/A. Rourke and I are so very eager to join the Worlds of Disney circle of life!
Character basics
Character name: Lyle Tiberius Rourke
Age: 54
Species: Human
Birthplace: Texas
Movie: Atlantis: The Lost Empire
Custom title: Never surprised
Why'd you pick this character? Rourke is a different type of Disney villain, more collected and smooth (most of the time). I thought it might be interesting to slot him down as a fairly unruffled man who can adapt to different situations effectively and forge alliances even with potential "good" guys, though of course, he's ultimately out for himself.
Character appearance (try to get at least 2 or 3 sentences for each section)
Hair description: A military man to the end, Rourke keeps his hair tight and cropped, leaving almost no room for loose strands. It's gray with middle age, giving him a distinguished appearance.
Facial description/mood/expressions: Rourke is a very controlled man, offering a general appearance of affability and seriousness that can be quite genuine depending on the circumstances. This can slip or shift into a mood of self-satisfied, arrogant greed should he feel comfortable in revealing those true colors, however.
Clothing style: Generally speaking, Rourke goes for full military dress while on the job. Should weather permit, he opts for a tank top and work jeans.
Body build: Years of retirement haven't dulled Rourke one bit; he's as muscular and fit as men half his age. There's a bit of bulk to him, but nothing that's quite "soft"/is all muscle.
Any unique traits (optional): N/A
Original character analysis (In your own words and please be thorough)
Personality:
Rourke is something of a plotter, a schemer, though it's something he's had to learn to do over the years. Most of the time, he'd love to just shoot or punch somebody to solve his problems. Nice and clean that way. But that way doesn't always work, so he's perfectly willing to try diplomacy until that fails, then force. He doesn't make friends easily, preferring to see other people as tools to his own ends, and willing to discard them should they no longer prove useful, though there's rarely any rancor involved in such a decision.
History:
Born in Beaumont, Texas in 1860, Lyle Tiberius Rourke had an early penchant for getting his way in life. At 15 years old, after a long history of getting in fights at boarding school, he lied about his age in order to serve in the U.S. Army and never looked back. He served admirably (save for one incident of censure for excessive force and refusing to acknowledge the enemy's surrender) for two-plus decades afterwards, finally retiring to a combat instructor role at Fort Dix in Missouri in 1901. He quickly grew bored, however, and took up freelance expedition work with the British Museum. It was this that brought him to the attention of Preston Whitmore, who hired him to lead the search for the Shepherd's Journal, a supposed guidebook to the lost city of Atlantis, in Iceland with his dear friend, Thaddeus Thatch.
The retrieval was successful, and Rourke remained on retainer to Whitmore as preparations for a second expedition to find Atlantis itself after Thaddeus' death. His grandson, Milo Thatch, was recruited to serve as linguist and interpreter for the journal. Nice kid, a lot like his grandfather, didn't seem to have a shred of malice in that skinny little body. Still, he was useful, and Whitmore was footing the bill, clearly liked the boy, so who was he to complain? All he had to do was not get in his way. Especially since he'd found quite a tantalizing page in the journal that detailed "the Heart of Atlantis". Which could make him VERY rich indeed.
The journey to Atlantis proved to be a perilous one, with the Ulysses submarine ultimately being destroyed by a guardian machine called the Leviathan. They lost a lot of good men and vehicles, though they still had enough to get to their destination. Even after the NEXT incident that involved literal fireflies and dropping down a big hole. But it was through that that they met some sort of warrior princess who took them into Atlantis who took them to the king. He was not, to say the least, happy to see them, and told them to immediately leave, though Rourke managed to negotiate one night for rest and resupplying, then tasked Thatch with talking to the princess. Boy seemed to have eyes for her anyway, so might as well focus him in a direction that was useful.
That worked out just fine for him, as they discovered the pair moving to a pool, evidently to look for something. Rourke and the rest of the crew camped out to wait for them, revealing their true intentions for the Heart, to Thatch's shock. Rourke then interrogated the king, who refused to give up its location (all Thatch'd said was "the heart of Atlantis lies in the eyes of our king"), and got a punch in the stomach for his troubles. However, when Rourke sat down in his chair, he realized that a pool nearby matched the symbol on the journal's cover. He, Helga, Thatch, and the princess, Kida, managed to go down into the chamber with the heart, and she managed to merge with it somehow. Rourke quickly set about packing her up, but Thatch's entreaties and guilt-tripping managed to work on the core crew, who decided to turn against him save Helga.
Well, fine, more for him. He and those loyal to him set out to leave Atlantis, but Thatch, the others, and many Atlanteans attacked them on flying machines. A massive battle ensued, during which the getaway balloon kept slowing down because of too much weight. Rourke opted to throw Helga overboard both for that and to keep his full share of the treasure, though she didn't take kindly to this, firing a flare at the balloon in her dying moments. He tried to get rid of Thatch in the midst of all this, the little snot, but he managed to slash him with part of the crystal, transforming him into a horrible beast. Though he ultimately wasn't long for the world in that state....
Ambitions:
Rourke may be a proud military man, but the idea of being a general or a desk jockey, sitting comfortably, never appealed to him much. Power comes from money, and money comes from adventure, so while he generally prefers to be in charge of a situation or team, he's quite happy to sell his services to the highest bidder.
Strengths & abilities:
Rourke's primary skills of strategy are that of leadership and adaptability. He's quite good at engendering loyalty due to his strength and keen mind, as well as the general promises of large paydays for his exploits. Furthermore, he prepares very well for almost any eventuality and can work capably on the fly. He's also an excellent fighter, able to turn his opponents' weaknesses into a strength for himself, and is proficient with most types of firearms.
Flaws:
His main flaw is assuming everyone else thinks in the same pragmatic terms he does. About the only thing that can surprise or throw him off is people rejecting that worldview, either in going against him for idealistic reasons or turning on him if they feel betrayed. And while it takes a lot to get there, he can behave irrationally if he loses his temper, which can sabotage his otherwise careful efforts.
Likes:
Western novels, money, guns.
Dislikes:
Idealists, people who don't properly compensate him, obstacles that get in his way.
Fears:
Outside of general "death", not really anything. His pragmatism has left him so coldly devoted to himself that he doesn't even fear being alone.
Anything to add?:
RP SAMPLE:
PAST TENSE ONLY. MUST BE ABOUT THE CHARACTER FOR WHOM YOU ARE APPLYING.
Rourke was not a man often given to reflection or introspect, but he found himself doing that now in his home, fireplace burning bright, as he looked at the page, over and over again as the radio warbled (an experimental one, gifted to him by Whitmore). He'd taken it almost on impulse. No real plan. But Thaddeus had shown him the journal, entrusted it, even, to his care. And thus, in a way, it was his.
He snorted as he thought of the old man. A terribly nice old codger, just like Whitmore in that respect, though the latter could be more pragmatic and driven in a number of ways. He'd had no real idea, no CONCEPTION of using the journal for his own gain, prattling on about discovery and knowledge. He hadn't even gotten mad when Rourke broached the subject, merely saying in that irritatingly kind way that he had no use for money.
And then he'd died, brokenhearted because the Smithsonian was run by blinkered idiots who couldn't see their own noses in front of them. He'd often wondered why Thatch cared about such things. What was the point of chasing the approval of fools when you could work for yourself instead?
He reached for a nearby glass of wine, taking a sip as he peered at the page again.
He'd heard about a grandson, endlessly, and how proud he was of him, even though all he did was run a boiler room. He pondered, idly, when he'd ever get to meet him. Whitmore'd been jawing about a second expedition, getting him onboard, but so much could change between planning and actually doing the thing. No plan survived contact with the enemy.
Another sip. He hadn't shared the page with anyone but Helga yet. But maybe he could.
It all depended on how a few key elements clicked into place.
IF YOU ALREADY HAVE A CHARACTER WITH US, NO SAMPLE IS NEEDED; INSTEAD, PUT "SEE ____"