One of the most noticeable things about Creed’s personality is that he loves to fight. Combat invigorates and excites him, and he takes a sick pleasure in inflicting pain on others, allowing his feral, animal side to dominate him and revelling in it. Unlike Logan, who seems to try and keep his more primal side in check, Victor Creed has embraced and welcomed his more base instincts, and feels little guilt in gutting his enemies. He knows that what he does is wrong but he loves doing it anyway and perhaps views Logan as being weak for denying their true beast-like natures.
He's snarky, patronising and sarcastic to most people he encounters, possibly because he feels superior to them, knowing that he could cut them down in a second. If smooth-talking and treachery don’t work, he uses brute strength to try and get his own way, and when he doesn’t get what he wants he is prone to very dark moods indeed. He has issues with authority figures and doesn’t take orders very well unless by doing so he can get something that he wants from the deal.
Logan’s departure from Stryker’s mutant squad affected Creed in a very personal way; he feels that Logan abandoned him and it affected him more than most people would realise. Having fought alongside his half-brother for over a century, having him just turn his back and walk away hurt him more than he would care to admit. He is also jealous of Logan’s adamantium skeleton, not only because it gives Logan an edge in combat, but it also serves as a reminder that Logan’s regenerative abilities are far superior to his own. And Creed hates not feeling superior.
Other:
Creed possesses several mutations, all of which combine to give him a feral attitude and appearance. His fingernails are sharp, tiger-like claws which he can retract at will, he has fangs, and he can regenerate when damaged, even recovering from wounds which would kill most others outright.
He still feels like a big brother towards James Logan at times, and calls him ‘Jimmy’ even now. He would keep a very keen eye on Logan on DDD, whether Logan knows it or not, and rather than making direct challenges, he is more likely to try and draw Logan out.
It’s also worth noting that, although Victor Creed looks about 35 years old, he is actually around 150; time doesn’t have the same meaning for him as for other people. Because of this, he can come out with things without thinking, betraying his real age.
Also note: If this application is accepted, I’d probably be paying Victor Creed after the end of the film. However, I think there seems to be a movie Wolverine player around, in which case I’d like to fit in with wherever they are playing him as I think the interaction would be better.
Additional Links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Creed (the ‘Film’ section at the bottom)
Well, I suppose I’d better get to grips with this thing sooner or later. Can’t say I ever cared that much for technology, but all the kids seem to be doing it these days.
You know what’s funny? I remember when the US military started up this whole ARPA thing, and then CERN and their World Wide Web project; all these concerns about homeland security and all that seems to be happening is a bunch of people exchanging recipes for muffins or whatever it is you do around here. So much for the Cold War and thedeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
…damn. I think I just broke a nail.
Third Person:
Family. What a goddamn joke. What the hell was that word supposed to mean, anyway? He’d pretty much turned his back on his real family as soon as he’d been old enough to recognise the familiar sour smell of alcohol on his father’s breath and his mother’s silent acceptance of it, and learned that by not being at home, he could avoid getting hurt. He’d turned his back on them all, not caring what happened to any of them. Except for Jimmy.
James Logan. Jimmy. Where was he now, he wondered? Still thinking that the sun shone out of his ass, acting all high and mighty like he thought he was some kind of saint? Still walking the world and acting like it owed him some kind of favour? The world didn’t owe anyone anything, he knew that much. You just had to take what you could.
His lip curled slightly as he thought about all the times they’d fought alongside each other, back-to-back, protecting each other from whatever the world had to throw at them. That’s what brothers did, right? And how did Logan repay him? By turning on his sorry heel and walking away. Walking away from over a hundred years of surviving together. Creed’s fingers twitched as he remembered that moment, remembered how he’d called out Jimmy’s name, and he’d just gone. Just walked away.
Growling softly to himself, he felt his claws emerge, responding to the anger that had been stirred up by his memories. His claws, his razor-sharp claws, strong enough to tear through metal, strong enough to rend flesh and turn it into an unrecognisable messy red pulp… oh, he’d find Jimmy all right. He’d find him, and show him what being family really meant.
AMENDMENT: I've re-read the app and realised that the sample LiveJournal entry isn't actually very good. So here's another one instead. Remember - snarky and sarcastic.
First Person (entry type):
Well, I guess this is one way to while away a boring evening; it's probably about time I got to grips with these things. Let's just say me and my hands don't exactly get along too well with delicate manual work. What do you kids get up to around here these days, anyway?
If you do know me, good. That saves time. If you don't know me, even better. I've been called a lot of things in my time, most of them not very flattering, but around here you can call me Victor Creed. Oh, and if anyone sees a James Logan around, you be sure to tell him I said hello.
[The microphone clicks on and the noise of heavy industrial machinery can be heard thrumming in the background. It sounds like a factory, a processing plant or, say, a power station.]
I hate this place.
[A deep, resonant voice cuts through the background noise. Although the speaker delivers his words slowly, he sounds thoughtful rather than mentally dull. It sounds as if he's speaking to someone who isn't really there. An absent friend, perhaps. A scratching noise also starts to be heard then, similar to the scraping of a sharp knife over dry wood. Unknown to the listeners, the speaker is digging his nails into the panel of a desk in front of him.]
Really, words can't describe how much I hate it here. It’s not so much the noise; I mean, shit, who would appreciate being woken up at 4am by the sound of gunfire or having their concentration interrupted by the repetitive screams? Not that I can't cope with the screams. Oh, believe me, I can cope with the screams.
[He laughs nastily.]
No, the thing I really hate about it here is the smell.
That thick, cloying scent of antiseptic in the medical facility. The sour stench of so many unwashed bodies crammed into a small space. The big-city smog that just clings to your clothes and refuses to let go. After all this time, I still can't say I'll ever get used to it. Makes me wish sometimes that we could head back into the Northwest Territories... but no. We could never go back to that. We could never go back to what we were.
Still, things could be worse. At least Wade can’t go around shooting his mouth off any more.
[There is a wicked chuckle as the speaker says this, then silence as the scratching noise ceases abruptly.]
They’ve found you, Jimmy.
[Silence for a few more moments.]
I don't know how they did it, but they've found you. I always kind of hoped I'd get to you first.
We both knew it would happen, little brother. How long did you think you could keep on running? Blood's thicker than water, and your skull's a lot thicker than mine. I guess Stryker always did have a soft spot for you after all. If it were up to me I'd already be on my way; we both know a thousand miles of trail dust is nothing when you've been walking for over a hundred years, but a deal's a deal. I'm going to give you what you want, and you don't even know it yet. That's just the nice, caring kind of brother that I am.
Be patient, he says. Be patient, as if six years of waiting weren’t being patient enough. And now I hear you're playing at being a lumberjack, cutting down trees, eating your lunch, all that mundane kind of shit. I mean, really, Jimmy. You know we're not like them. Who are you trying to fool here?
[The speaker's voice is filled with contempt now; contempt, and a cold, calculating evil.]
...and you have a woman now, don't you? I hear Stryker has plans for her. Is she pretty, Jimmy? Who knows, perhaps I have some more intimate plans of my own for her.
[Another horrible snicker, and then the speaker's voice takes on a more serious tone.]
Well, I guess I'm done here. You play your little game, and I'll play mine, and we'll see who wins out in the end. I guess we’re both just too stupid to quit, and too damn stubborn to die.
We're sorry, but this application has been rejected. We would reccomend reevaluating your characterization when it comes to his motivation. Consider taking into account everyone else's feelings on Victor's to get a more accurate idea. While his voice is nearly there, we feel that some aspects of his personality, such as his spontaneity and the plausible reasons for him to join the community, are somewhat lacking. If you would like a more specific explanation, feel free to contact Nor for one; she would be happy to elaborate. Please feel free to reapply!
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no subject
One of the most noticeable things about Creed’s personality is that he loves to fight. Combat invigorates and excites him, and he takes a sick pleasure in inflicting pain on others, allowing his feral, animal side to dominate him and revelling in it. Unlike Logan, who seems to try and keep his more primal side in check, Victor Creed has embraced and welcomed his more base instincts, and feels little guilt in gutting his enemies. He knows that what he does is wrong but he loves doing it anyway and perhaps views Logan as being weak for denying their true beast-like natures.
He's snarky, patronising and sarcastic to most people he encounters, possibly because he feels superior to them, knowing that he could cut them down in a second. If smooth-talking and treachery don’t work, he uses brute strength to try and get his own way, and when he doesn’t get what he wants he is prone to very dark moods indeed. He has issues with authority figures and doesn’t take orders very well unless by doing so he can get something that he wants from the deal.
Logan’s departure from Stryker’s mutant squad affected Creed in a very personal way; he feels that Logan abandoned him and it affected him more than most people would realise. Having fought alongside his half-brother for over a century, having him just turn his back and walk away hurt him more than he would care to admit. He is also jealous of Logan’s adamantium skeleton, not only because it gives Logan an edge in combat, but it also serves as a reminder that Logan’s regenerative abilities are far superior to his own. And Creed hates not feeling superior.
Other:
Creed possesses several mutations, all of which combine to give him a feral attitude and appearance. His fingernails are sharp, tiger-like claws which he can retract at will, he has fangs, and he can regenerate when damaged, even recovering from wounds which would kill most others outright.
He still feels like a big brother towards James Logan at times, and calls him ‘Jimmy’ even now. He would keep a very keen eye on Logan on DDD, whether Logan knows it or not, and rather than making direct challenges, he is more likely to try and draw Logan out.
It’s also worth noting that, although Victor Creed looks about 35 years old, he is actually around 150; time doesn’t have the same meaning for him as for other people. Because of this, he can come out with things without thinking, betraying his real age.
Also note: If this application is accepted, I’d probably be paying Victor Creed after the end of the film. However, I think there seems to be a movie Wolverine player around, in which case I’d like to fit in with wherever they are playing him as I think the interaction would be better.
Additional Links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Creed (the ‘Film’ section at the bottom)
no subject
Well, I suppose I’d better get to grips with this thing sooner or later. Can’t say I ever cared that much for technology, but all the kids seem to be doing it these days.
You know what’s funny? I remember when the US military started up this whole ARPA thing, and then CERN and their World Wide Web project; all these concerns about homeland security and all that seems to be happening is a bunch of people exchanging recipes for muffins or whatever it is you do around here. So much for the Cold War and thedeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
…damn. I think I just broke a nail.
Third Person:
Family. What a goddamn joke. What the hell was that word supposed to mean, anyway? He’d pretty much turned his back on his real family as soon as he’d been old enough to recognise the familiar sour smell of alcohol on his father’s breath and his mother’s silent acceptance of it, and learned that by not being at home, he could avoid getting hurt. He’d turned his back on them all, not caring what happened to any of them. Except for Jimmy.
James Logan. Jimmy. Where was he now, he wondered? Still thinking that the sun shone out of his ass, acting all high and mighty like he thought he was some kind of saint? Still walking the world and acting like it owed him some kind of favour? The world didn’t owe anyone anything, he knew that much. You just had to take what you could.
His lip curled slightly as he thought about all the times they’d fought alongside each other, back-to-back, protecting each other from whatever the world had to throw at them. That’s what brothers did, right? And how did Logan repay him? By turning on his sorry heel and walking away. Walking away from over a hundred years of surviving together. Creed’s fingers twitched as he remembered that moment, remembered how he’d called out Jimmy’s name, and he’d just gone. Just walked away.
Growling softly to himself, he felt his claws emerge, responding to the anger that had been stirred up by his memories. His claws, his razor-sharp claws, strong enough to tear through metal, strong enough to rend flesh and turn it into an unrecognisable messy red pulp… oh, he’d find Jimmy all right. He’d find him, and show him what being family really meant.
no subject
First Person (entry type):
Well, I guess this is one way to while away a boring evening; it's probably about time I got to grips with these things. Let's just say me and my hands don't exactly get along too well with delicate manual work. What do you kids get up to around here these days, anyway?
If you do know me, good. That saves time. If you don't know me, even better. I've been called a lot of things in my time, most of them not very flattering, but around here you can call me Victor Creed. Oh, and if anyone sees a James Logan around, you be sure to tell him I said hello.
There, wasn't that nice?
PENDING - Second Sample
VOICE POST GO!
[The microphone clicks on and the noise of heavy industrial machinery can be heard thrumming in the background. It sounds like a factory, a processing plant or, say, a power station.]
I hate this place.
[A deep, resonant voice cuts through the background noise. Although the speaker delivers his words slowly, he sounds thoughtful rather than mentally dull. It sounds as if he's speaking to someone who isn't really there. An absent friend, perhaps. A scratching noise also starts to be heard then, similar to the scraping of a sharp knife over dry wood. Unknown to the listeners, the speaker is digging his nails into the panel of a desk in front of him.]
Really, words can't describe how much I hate it here. It’s not so much the noise; I mean, shit, who would appreciate being woken up at 4am by the sound of gunfire or having their concentration interrupted by the repetitive screams? Not that I can't cope with the screams. Oh, believe me, I can cope with the screams.
[He laughs nastily.]
No, the thing I really hate about it here is the smell.
That thick, cloying scent of antiseptic in the medical facility. The sour stench of so many unwashed bodies crammed into a small space. The big-city smog that just clings to your clothes and refuses to let go. After all this time, I still can't say I'll ever get used to it. Makes me wish sometimes that we could head back into the Northwest Territories... but no. We could never go back to that. We could never go back to what we were.
Still, things could be worse. At least Wade can’t go around shooting his mouth off any more.
[There is a wicked chuckle as the speaker says this, then silence as the scratching noise ceases abruptly.]
They’ve found you, Jimmy.
[Silence for a few more moments.]
I don't know how they did it, but they've found you. I always kind of hoped I'd get to you first.
We both knew it would happen, little brother. How long did you think you could keep on running? Blood's thicker than water, and your skull's a lot thicker than mine. I guess Stryker always did have a soft spot for you after all. If it were up to me I'd already be on my way; we both know a thousand miles of trail dust is nothing when you've been walking for over a hundred years, but a deal's a deal. I'm going to give you what you want, and you don't even know it yet. That's just the nice, caring kind of brother that I am.
Be patient, he says. Be patient, as if six years of waiting weren’t being patient enough. And now I hear you're playing at being a lumberjack, cutting down trees, eating your lunch, all that mundane kind of shit. I mean, really, Jimmy. You know we're not like them. Who are you trying to fool here?
[The speaker's voice is filled with contempt now; contempt, and a cold, calculating evil.]
...and you have a woman now, don't you? I hear Stryker has plans for her. Is she pretty, Jimmy? Who knows, perhaps I have some more intimate plans of my own for her.
[Another horrible snicker, and then the speaker's voice takes on a more serious tone.]
Well, I guess I'm done here. You play your little game, and I'll play mine, and we'll see who wins out in the end. I guess we’re both just too stupid to quit, and too damn stubborn to die.
[The recording ends.]
REJECTED
Re: REJECTED