Folion

(Very nice. I'll be waiting for one or two more until tomorrow night before I finally kick off this RP and send it on its merry little way. If no one else comes, then I'll start it up. New members can still join even after the RP's started.)

(For now, I'll just post my character sheet.)

Name: Ruben Corona

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: Neither predominantly skinny or on the blubber-y side. A well-to-do bit of muscle in his arms but aside from that, your typical, average-old Joe. Close-cropped ink-black hair, similarly colored eyes, and a somewhat pale face. Also rather elongated, which gave him the general appearance of a depressed man. And he was, so it suited him justly so. A bit of stubble dots the bottom half of his face, giving off the impression that he isn't exactly prone to shaving himself very soon. And he isn't.

Background / History: 'You want to know about my life? You want to know about my life? Jesus. All I can tell you is that you've come to the wrong person for a good story. But what the hell? Go ahead and help yourself to a can of coke in the fridge. I'll give you what I can remember.

Let's see... I've lived here in New York all my life. Ever since I was a wee little lad. I've always wanted to go to other places, other continents. A neighbouring state would be fine. But then my family had debts they didn't know about crammed up their ass, among other financial problems, so my future concerning my dream of travel looked increasingly bleak by the day. Eventually, due to rising frustration and lack of intimiacy, my parents split. Not that I cared. I'm not a very friendly man and it'll take a lot to get any sympathy from me.

So after that, shit happened. Sorry, memory's a little foggy...

But yeah, anyway, shit happened... Um... Lemme skip to the interesting bits.

I remember coming home to visit my mom one day and finding the house in a blood-tastic mess. The first thought that came to my mind was suicide, but upon closer inspection, who killed themselves by biting a place that was physically impossible to reach - the neck? So I tripped and stumbled through the tattered remains of my home and encountered my first zombie shuffling its way in my kitchen. Once it spotted me, it snarled and rushed across the room, but not before I turned around myself, fled the scene, and locked the door. My eyes were still wide from seeing who it was - my dad.

After that, I started hearing stories. On the news. On the radio. Worldwide. These sons a _______ were everywhere. And then all hell broke loose.'

Weapons: Ruben is not a friendly man. Though he isn't a violent man either. But ever since the infestation - the plauge - began, arming oneself became top priority. This being the case, Ruben was armed with his trusty kitchen blade, a standard bolt-action rifle along with a couple of cases of ammo, and a pistol. He was well-versed with none of these weapons. But he knew how to use them. And that, ultimately, was what counted.

(Gah, I despise this - may edit it later - but it'll do for the time being. Seriously lacking brain juice at the moment.)

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