Post by Secretary on Nov 25, 2012 18:52:38 GMT -5
[/color] Matthew Williams
Matthew*Paul*Williams
Name:
Nicknames:[/color] Matt; Mattie
Gender:[/color] Male
Birthdate:[/color] July 1st (19)
Sexual Orientation:[/color] Asexual; as in absence of sex.
Occupation:[/color] Bicycle Courier; deliveries between the casinos
Hair Color:[/color] 'Maple' blonde
Eye Color:[/color] Violet-Blue
Skin Color:[/color] Pale
Description:[/color] Matthew is a tall, slender young man standing at 5'10". He has one of those eternally “boyish” faces, and thanks to the eyeglasses that he wears it adds to the impression that he is a sharply intelligent individual. While others might carry themselves with confidence, Matthew tends to keep his head low, avoiding attention at times thanks to his inability to stand out in a crowd. Despite the lack of people noticing him, there is rarely a time when the Canadian is not smiling, patient and warm; his face an outward expression of the kind, sincere man that he is. His hair is rather wild, thick despite being silky and easy to manage, with one particular curl that stands stubbornly in front of his face.
The Canadian is not a flashy dresser, as hard as his Canadian-French relatives back home might have tried to press him. He prefers plainer outfits, usually a T-shirt and sturdy blue jeans that make his work easier; practical clothes that aren't going to inhibit his bicycling. That isn’t too say that Matthew cannot look stunning when he puts forth the effort – the young man just prefers not to commit to that kind of work when his energy can be better spent elsewhere.
Likes:[/color]
Dislikes:[/color]
Strengths:[/color]
Weaknesses:[/color]
Dreams:[/color]
Fears:[/color]
Personality:[/color] If there is one thing that Matthew lacks, it’s presence. Some would see this as a sign of a weak personality; this is what the Canadian is more comfortable with. Having so many around him that project their personalities, Matthew finds his more peaceful approach to interactions more suited to allowing him to make positive relations with other people. He is genuine in everything that he does, sincere with his words and honest with his opinions – when people care enough to listen. Being ignored tends to wear on Matthew’s patience, though there is plenty of it.
When things get to a point where he must force an issue, the Canadian does have a temper and knows how to use it. His laidback nature shields a passionate heart; one that flares when it comes to issues of importance, slights committed against him that become unbearable, and when a hockey match or some other competition is being played between his national athletes and someone else’s. Living in Las Vegas has strengthened his spine some since Matthew has learnt that it is better to speak up rather than stay quiet in tense, dangerous situations. While it still pains him considerably to fear that he might be upsetting others with his actions the Canadian knows that sometimes it is for the greater good.
Matthew is resourceful and intelligent. If he doesn’t have the tools or means to get something accomplished then he will develop solutions outside of the ordinary. He knows how to use his environment to increase his chances of survival. Matthew can fend for himself alone for long periods of time, used to solitary life up in the higher reaches of Canada's frozen tundras. This helps him avoid any kind of loneliness when he's forced to be on his own; not as driven to seek out other people for companionship. Most of the time, people cause him trouble.
Family:[/color]
History:[/color] At least three paragraphs
Additional Information:[/color] HERE
Roleplay Sample:[/color]
They’re all over the place! Matthew thought to himself as he smashed his hockey stick down with another wet crunch on a fallen zombie’s skull.
Matthew’s head was swimming with calculations of numbers, of how many of these hostile creatures had surrounded his cabin with the intent to get in at him. He couldn’t decide whether these zombies had been lured due to the smoke from his chimney or the low lights in his windows. Whatever the reason, it was apparent what they wanted when they began breaking the glass in his kitchen. If Matthew had not reacted quickly to the situation then it probably would have already gotten out of control.
The few that had been bold enough to come inside were dealt with thanks to some handy kitchen knives, assorted appliances that were sacrificed for the cause, and some other random domestic items that had sufficed as weapons until the Canadian had managed to escape to his closet in the hallway. Once he had his hockey stick unearthed then it was a little easier to get things turned in his favor. Matthew’s face was pale, set with determination as he ignored the wetness that had splashed on it, not wanting to think about whatever blood or other bits might be on him right now.
Once the last of them had been driven down to the wooden floor of his cabin, the young man stood in his living room, doubled over with a red-slick hockey stick in a knuckled grip that had gone white. As he panted, Matthew used the clean fabric of his shirtsleeve to press his glasses straight from where they had been knocked askew in the chaos. His head twisted so that he could frown in the direction of his polar bear companion and seeing that the creature was clawing furrows into the face of a dead zombie. “No, Kumakutchie – don’t even think about eating it. It’s rotten.”
There was no time to waste. Matthew tuned his senses, able to hear more rustling sounds out in the woods beyond his cabin through the large broken windows that he’d built in to offer a better view of his lands and now seemed like a hazard. More of them were coming. If he didn’t hurry then they were going to attack again. The Canadian hurried back to his closet to pull out the duffel that he kept packed for emergencies; enough supplies to at least get him to some safer location where he could try and determine what was happening. His old sniper rifle was buried at the back, where Matthew had hoped never to need it again, now being unearthed because he was going to need it.
He nodded quickly to Kumajirou once he had everything gathered. There was enough in this pack to get them to safety. The rest he’d just have to forage for along the way. Matthew waited long enough to wipe his face off with a doily that Arthur had made him as some apology present for forgetting his name some number of years ago, tossing the bloody thing down as his face set with new determination. He checked that there were some live rounds in his rifle, and then expertly snapped the chamber shut. “Let’s go.”
Matthew’s head was swimming with calculations of numbers, of how many of these hostile creatures had surrounded his cabin with the intent to get in at him. He couldn’t decide whether these zombies had been lured due to the smoke from his chimney or the low lights in his windows. Whatever the reason, it was apparent what they wanted when they began breaking the glass in his kitchen. If Matthew had not reacted quickly to the situation then it probably would have already gotten out of control.
The few that had been bold enough to come inside were dealt with thanks to some handy kitchen knives, assorted appliances that were sacrificed for the cause, and some other random domestic items that had sufficed as weapons until the Canadian had managed to escape to his closet in the hallway. Once he had his hockey stick unearthed then it was a little easier to get things turned in his favor. Matthew’s face was pale, set with determination as he ignored the wetness that had splashed on it, not wanting to think about whatever blood or other bits might be on him right now.
Once the last of them had been driven down to the wooden floor of his cabin, the young man stood in his living room, doubled over with a red-slick hockey stick in a knuckled grip that had gone white. As he panted, Matthew used the clean fabric of his shirtsleeve to press his glasses straight from where they had been knocked askew in the chaos. His head twisted so that he could frown in the direction of his polar bear companion and seeing that the creature was clawing furrows into the face of a dead zombie. “No, Kumakutchie – don’t even think about eating it. It’s rotten.”
There was no time to waste. Matthew tuned his senses, able to hear more rustling sounds out in the woods beyond his cabin through the large broken windows that he’d built in to offer a better view of his lands and now seemed like a hazard. More of them were coming. If he didn’t hurry then they were going to attack again. The Canadian hurried back to his closet to pull out the duffel that he kept packed for emergencies; enough supplies to at least get him to some safer location where he could try and determine what was happening. His old sniper rifle was buried at the back, where Matthew had hoped never to need it again, now being unearthed because he was going to need it.
He nodded quickly to Kumajirou once he had everything gathered. There was enough in this pack to get them to safety. The rest he’d just have to forage for along the way. Matthew waited long enough to wipe his face off with a doily that Arthur had made him as some apology present for forgetting his name some number of years ago, tossing the bloody thing down as his face set with new determination. He checked that there were some live rounds in his rifle, and then expertly snapped the chamber shut. “Let’s go.”
OOC Information
Name:[/color] Hat
Age:[/color] 31
RP Experience:[/color] 17+ years; 2+ Hetalia
How‘d You Find Us?:[/color] Slept with the boss.
Additional Information:[/color] Christmas sparklies![/blockquote]