Post by Ricardo Moore. on Sept 6, 2007 18:10:31 GMT -5
&______the player
name;; tera
age;; 15
experience;; a little over a yearr
graphic ability;; like a six… I don’t know. xD
route;; I was chain linking. From my site [Tusc] to Spring Valley, to Cheap Thrills, to here. xD
appearance
full name;; Michael Ricardo Moore. [Goes by Ricardo or Rick]
age;; 17
grade;; senior, wooo.
height;; 6’2
weight;; 200lbs [Uhm… I’m not so sure about these numbers.
general appearance;;
warning: i suck at appearances.
The Face
To die for couldn’t even begin to cup it. Hah, Ricardo inherited his eyes from his mother and hair from his father. His mane is borderline blonde/brown and relatively short cut considering the trend for shaggy hair that’s going around nowadays. The hue of the senior’s eyes basically matches that of his hair color with a simple light brown tinge to them.
Body Type:
Rick, as a jock, is very physically active in a lot of the school’s sports teams, so his body type comes with the territory. He has a full, muscular frame that’s built pretty solid. However, he doesn’t look like a ten-ton linebacker; but Rick is definitely no shrimp. He's "fit", for a one-word term, and fairly strong.
Clothing Type:
Typical breezy jock-wear with some surprises thrown in. Ricardo has the biggest array of sports-wear with 3/4 of a dresser filled with athletic shorts, sweats, under-armor, and cotton shirts. For school he wears a number of classic polo shirts from Lacoste, Abercrombie, Old Navy, or American Eagle paired with great low-slung jeans. On the weekends or for parties, Ricardo raises the style bar substantially with a printed t-shirt and a great leather jacket, a button-up shirt with a layered cardigan, and various other combinations that require more effort.
other crap:
Appearance is important. It affects how people react, respond, and judge you. Ricardo takes all of this into consideration. He chooses his clothing carefully to match the situation. More classy clothing is worn if he feels like it is needed. Shirt is optional. Regular exercise keeps his body well toned and in shape. Looking bad is a sign of laziness. He's also somehow managed to acquire a tattoo of Mario on his left shoulder.
personality
specific traits;; Cynical, smart, competitive humorous and irresistible. <3
likes;;
-The Spotlight
-Winning
-Soccer
-Comic Books
-Taking Charge
-Spontaneous Girls
-Home Cooked Meals
-Being adored [who doesn’t]
-Pressure
-Black and White Movies
-Cartoons
-Hip-Hop Music
-Oreos
-Smart People [Broad, I know]
-Unique Chicks
-Friends
-Just Hanging Out
-Board Games
-Video Games
-Having Possession [of the ball]
dislikes;;
-Bossy Females
-Getting Blamed
-Losing the game
-Country music [makes him lose concentration]
-Liars
-Smart asses
-Spinach
-High Socks
-Bitches
fears;;
Public embarrassment
Being caught off guard
Being outsmarted
goals;; Although he knows it is a calculated risk, he hopes to make a good living as a writer and then work in his own publishing company. You’d think soccer/football or basketball would be his main goal, but he just feels that a dream of becoming pro is unrealistic.
general personality;;
Ricardo Moore: The face of sin.
Lust.
Eh, he’s a teenage boy for crying out loud, there’s no way for him to deny that feeling of lust that resided with him. Well, maybe he would have been able to if he was gay. Wait no, scratch that. If Ricardo had been gay, he’d just lust after other males with all of his might. Honestly, most do know and understand this single concept of the male mind: the drive for sex. Let’s not say that the eighteen year old only cares about getting laid, or feeling up the closest thing in a skirt, because in all seriousness that just isn’t him. In fact he is incredibly picky about whom he would consider doing things with. However that doesn’t mean flirting is beyond him. He considers himself rather knowledgeable about woman and their mysterious ways. Since he is always up for a challenge, why not partake in the most challenging game of all? The hunt. Hunt for a mate, that is. He prefers a chase, but isn’t willing to truly go that far for a girl unless he personally feels that she’s worth it. Otherwise, she’ll end up finish the game by herself. When it comes to turn-ons, He likes to think that a mind is the most important part of a girl, but there hasn’t been an occasion where he flirted with someone less than gorgeous. Confidence and wits in a girl usually win out in the end. Aggression helps quite a bit since he is more laid back and likes when a girl shows the initiative. Low self-esteem is annoying. Rikki likes to help people, but won’t listen to anyone complain constantly about minute problems. Smoking is disgusting to him. Also, if you’ve been around, don’t bother being around him.
Pride.
When people first interact with Ricardo Moore they will most likely feel like they are being judged. This is probably because they are. His opinions of people are usually dead on, and he is usually very honest about what he thinks. He tends to be a strict judge of character and looks down on many as a result. There are pretty much two types of people to him: those he will devote his time and friendship to and those who aren’t worth the time of day. Most people fall into the first category luckily. Those who aren’t see Ricky as a snide, arrogant, and downright mean person. If you are one of the chosen you will see Moore has an easy going thoughtful and caring individual.
Choose wisely.
To him life is a game and he likes to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Many get annoyed with his slightly pompous vocabulary and sometimes cruel wit. The fact that he feels a need to understand everything about a person tends to cause trouble with those more reserved. However he is a terrific listener and problem solver. Those who trust him enough to confide in him usually get good results. He likes solving other people’s problems instead of worrying about his own.
He has a variety of hobbies, always looking for new things to try. Sports and movies are among his favorite. Basketball and track are his favorites since they are what he trains the most for. As his father put it, he was one of those ‘natural born athletes’ and well let’s just say that the male isn’t afraid to flaunt his skill. Most free time is accompanied by working out or trying something new, and generally when the boy tries something, he’ll keep at it until he’s at least decent at the game/instrument or…whatever. Ricardo hates to do things that he isn’t good at since he doesn’t see a real point to it. In his sixth grade year, once his grade point average reached its peak, and the sports became a bit dull, the male moved onto music. He wasn't half bad when it came to his voice and evidently, he'd been born a pianist for once his fingers hit the keys the notes took control, and they were easy on the ears. The other instruments were the ones that gave him trouble. In all honestly, the male couldn't even grasp the concept of playing the guitar until his sophomore year in high school and by that point, he still wasn't even good at it. Therefore he locked the damned thing up and refused to take another look at it, thus setting his attention back onto his sports.
Gluttony [or overindulgence.]
Ricardo Moore has this tendency to overindulge himself from time to time, and it all began with his exercise instruction. As mentioned earlier, the kid had been born as what many would call ‘a natural athlete’. Without much training or experience within a certain area, he could easily attain hold of the basis of the game and then play off of what he’d seen. Unfortunately, this had never been good enough for him. Ech, how can this be put? Oh yes, the male has a masochistic work ethic. He’s a strong fan of the line ‘good enough is not best’ and has always pushed himself to his physical limits in order to reach that step on the ladder that was indeed considered ‘best’. But of course, this wasn’t enough, not enough to please his father at least. Once Ricky’s teen years rolled around, he began to take the bottle nightly, just to find an escape from the father figure’s constant pushing and the little sister’s weak cries.
Greed.
Eh, maybe greed isn’t necessarily the best way to describe it, for the male just wants to make it far in his life. At most, he wants to become a pro-athlete and maybe marry somebody famous, that way he’d be rolling in the dough. Honestly, it’s not even really the money that matters to Ricardo; what he really wants is the respect that comes along with it. After all, who wouldn’t want the rest of the world to bow down to him, whilst he stood with the power and privilege to do as he pleased?
Envy.
He’s always been the type to see what he wants and go for it. Unfortunately, Ricardo doesn’t always end up attaining the object of his affections; especially if it has something to do with decent grades. To tell the truth, he is a smart boy to say the least. He does enjoy opening a book every once in a while and isn’t afraid of maybe reading a paper or two of his own, aloud. It’s when it boils down to his mathematical and science skills that he falls weak. Maybe the word, ‘jealousy’ would apply right about here, but whenever he even catches a glimpse of someone with an ‘A’ on the latest chem. Exam or a ‘B’ on their trig test, he becomes numb. Aside from grades, female kind also applies in this area. Only when he finds it necessary, will he go after another’s woman just for the hell. Usually, it’s because of the way the boy-toy has treated him that causes for such an action, or every once in a while, Ricardo feels as though the male doesn’t deserve his counterpart; therefore, he’d be more than happy to snatch her away.
Wrath.
With more than enough liquor within his system, Ricardo would be more than willing to do at a little fist to first combat. It’s often then, that he starts to blurt out little blurbs of his emotions here and there, or that he admits to his sins. When drunk, he also begins to take things personal. One could be speaking to a man across the room and Ricky would pick up on what he’d said, somehow apply it to himself, and then take to getting physical. Of course, he’s prone to become less of himself when under the influence, for well… the boy is completely wasted. If he’s all sobered up and someone pisses him off, he’s more likely to spew out a verbal beating rather than lift a finger. Ech. Heh, that’s until the other person decided to get up-close. In most cases, Ricardo is a calm soul and pretty hard to anger or frustrate (unless you’re a complete idiot). But if you do manage to light his fuse, let’s just say that it won’t be pretty.
Sloth.
In all honesty, this sin doesn’t really apply to the Ricardo Moore character. As mentioned beforehand, he has an unhealthy work habit, and is currently trying his hardest to get his grades up. The male rarely falls into a depression unless under the influence, for though he uses his alcoholism as an escape from his problems, he often finds himself feeling worse afterwards. And no, it’s not the hangover. Ricky is a pretty happy male during the day. He cracks jokes, he smiles, he dances, and he laughs; just like any other teenage boy, and well, like the rest of the world he does have his problems. He grew up in a decent family and was taught that wallowing in one’s sorrows wouldn’t help to ease them; therefore he doesn’t dwell.
Those are the seven deadly sins of Mister Moore, but don’t get the character wrong, he does have a soft side. With each good comes a bad, thus it works vice versa…correct? Eh… let’s hope so.
history
family
father;; Keith
father's occupation;; Corporate Attorney
mother;; Rachel
mother's occupation;; Corporate Attorney, as awell.
siblings;; Sarah, seven, first.
general history;;
"What do you want from me!?! Why do you expect the best?! Why can't I come in second and still bring a smirk of pride onto your features, dad? Why..."
The young man's words brought the elder one into a state of shock. Within a split second, he'd pulled his son into a tight bear hug, and allowed for a quick set of tears to tear at the barricade at he'd set up once at an early point in life. He muttered a few apologize, still gripping the latter tightly, as if the hug it's self was a key to forgiveness. For a moment they rocked together, both in tears, neither expecting for such a day to conclude as it had. Neither expecting to be in the other's arms. At the realization that his father was indeed holding him, the curly maned junior released an exasperated breath and allowed his tears to spill out, stronger than before.
"Son," the father began, finally letting loose of the boy, "son, I'm --"
And then the television flickered off. Tossing the remote down onto the coffee table before him, Keith Moore emitted a scoff at the obviously fictional scene that he'd just had the pleasure of witnessing. Turning to the teenage beside him, Keith slapped the boy on the neck and chuckled softly, though his features remained stern, "If you ever even think about raising your voice at me, I'll beat your ass." At this statement, the two males began to laugh, and after a moment of hysterics they both stood to their feet, and headed off into separate directions within their household.
Unlike the family that had recently been placed upon the tube, Gregory and his father got along quite well. Sure, Keith enjoyed 'encouraging' his son -pushing him to impossible limits- but it was evident that he loved him, and as if he had to prove this fact, the forty year old did indeed hug his son every day. Yes! That is quite an extreme isn't it?! Well it's in fear of ending up as a family such as the ones in the popular television movies now-a-days that he did so. Oh yes, and because he loved his son.
Richard was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. Though he spent majority of his life there, the male has a lack of endearment for the cold weather. He doesn't mind the occasional breeze but winters in which you had to wear three coats, gloves and scarves were ridiculous; well, in his mind at least. Therefore he bitched and moaned. It was no secret that southern states rarely experienced snow storms and blizzards, and also it was quite clear that he'd be able to see way more females was way less clothing on in places in which the temperature could keep one warm. Besides, they could afford it. Honestly, when your father and mother were both top-notch attorneys [needless to say, they met in law school], you could afford just about anything that you wanted. Okay, well maybe not anything, but they had the money. Oh and we also can't forget to mention the fact that they both handled their own accounting and had actually been saving for the child's college fund before he had even been conceived. Mhm, a planned child. Rare, right? Just as rare as having a father who liked to show that he loved him, and by no means did love mean buying him useless shit such as toys and game-boys.
Anyway, they ended up moving, but not necessarily to the south, though Colorado was a bit closer to the equator that Illinois was. Heh, he’d be able to work with that. Now he had a whole new world awaiting for him, along with the sixth grade.
When in middle school, let's just say that Ricardo wasn't the most popular student that there was, though he wasn't necessarily on the bottom of the school life hatchery either. His lack of an extremely active social life, left him in somewhat of a mild depression and that's when the old folks stepped in. At that point in seventh grade, his father began with a light push. He urged for the boy to quit moping around and begin studying or making use of his time with something. Keith also forced the aspect of school sports and function participation upon the young on. After all, if one wanted to be known, they had to make themselves known and what other was there to do that other than getting to the top of your class and excelling in a few athletics programs while you were at it? Eh, that's the way that Daddy dearest saw it, at least. And wouldn't you know, soon enough Rick began to agree.
In sophomore year, once his grade point average reached its peak, and the sports became a bit dull, the male moved onto music. He wasn't half bad when it came to his voice and evidently, he'd been born a pianist for once his fingers hit the keys the notes took control, and let's just say that they were easy on the ears. The other instruments were the ones that gave him trouble. In all honestly, the male couldn't even grasp the concept of playing the guitar until the summer before his junior year, which was quite a while considering his talents.
Needless to say, things have certainly changed for the boy since middle school. Evidently, talent and money attracted friends and when you had both, you were considered the pick of the litter. The fact that he did eventually grow into his looks and out of the acne sanctions of his life did have a little something to do with the newly found social life as well.
other
keyword;; they want me with my hands up
rp sample;; ooc; haha. vamp much?
“Isabelle…?”
In the being the name had only escaped the male figure’s lips as a short plea. He just wanted for the girl to pop out of hiding, to show herself so that they could get on with the night. This game was demonic, the rules childish, the overall idea just trivial. What was so exciting about scaring one’s guardian? Where did the thrill of nearly scaring one’s parent to death jump in at? Maybe he was slow or mentally ill, but the adult had never understood the ethics of the game; he’d never cared for a hide and seek.
“Belle?” the call danced from his lips in a somewhat frantic whisper as he quickened his step and continued to blatantly search around the immediate area for a small girl blonde girl that had recently taken on the form of a pumpkin. It was a twisted fairy tale of sorts, instead of a princess, the girl of six had transformed herself into an over sixed, red-orange lump. Had the clock struck midnight, was she now gone?
Peering down upon the watch upon his wrist, the doctor quickened his step in the direction that he’d been heading whilst the child had been beside him. Maybe she’d run ahead, maybe she was just a door before him, getting her fill on the night’s sweetest. “Isabelle!” The aged male continued to call, running around aimlessly, not sure of where he was to go next, unsure of where to check. Though he wasn’t a parent, he didn’t posses that natural instinct that was usually acquired by mothers and this fact scared him. The fact that there was something he could do was a relief, but when it was contradicted with the knowledge that he didn’t know what this ‘something’ was... well, this sent a splurge of panic rushing through his veins and down his spine.
Another exasperated cry escaped Mr. Thomas’ lips as he caught a glimpse of a light haired female heading toward the edge of the clearing. Without further hesitation he followed, his frail legs somehow managing to reach a speed that he’d never before managed in his life. That was her, it had to be here. The kid was wearing orange; she was about Belle’s height and had those tresses that he’d be able to recognize anywhere. His daughter was before him, but she was running away as if she hadn’t heard. Or as if she was trying to escape…
Victor rounded another corner, this one brought the count up to three. Still sprinting to his fullest capabilities, he parted his parched lips in order to utter his offspring’s title once more, but not a sound escaped. He was out of breath, straining his every muscle to catch up and she only seemed to be getting farther and farther away. Once more a sense of urgency pulsed through him and Vic managed to push himself onto a new level. He was going to catch her..
I’m going to catch her..
If the male didn’t keep repeating these words onto himself then he knew for certain he’d give up sooner or later. His body would give out under him and the girl would keep going. She’d keep running and there’d be nothing more that he could do. It felt necessary for him to try her name again though all attempts at gaining her attention from such an action was futile. He’d just be wasting his own breath, killing all previous efforts by running down his own energy.
They were cutting through a woodsy area at this point. The little deaf girl was just that close, he could practically feel the moisture of his skin, catch a whiff of the shampoo within her locks as he edged nearer. He was getting closer. Evidently the young one’s energy was wearing out, Victor would just have to push himself for a moment longer before he could truly reach out to stop her…he’d have to push.
Now in the clear, Sir Thomas rounded another corner, expecting to find himself within inches of his child, only to be let down, for she was gone. All traces of the one that he’d been chasing, all tracks and even the scent… all gone. Victor froze in his tracks, his breathing hard, and eyes dilated as he took in his new surroundings.
Emerald hues hovered over the property before him. Suddenly, the doctor felt as though he’d been dropping within the middle of a nineties horror movie, as if he had just followed the breadcrumbs to his own demise. However, there wasn’t enough time for such thoughts to subside; the raven haired figure had to figure on the mission at hand. He had to find his child.
He Had To.
The answer to the inquiry that was soon about to across his mind was already obvious. There was nothing else that he could do rather than head to the door of the estate and step within. For the next five minutes at the least, Victor Thomas would have to forget all of those stories that had been passed along during his childhood years, and step within this supposedly haunted house. A bead of sweat caressed his cheek as he continued through the unkempt yard and onto the porch that shaded the little bit of light that had been provided by the moon, away from him.
Enveloped in the dark of the night, Vic knocked twice before twisting the knob…
In the being the name had only escaped the male figure’s lips as a short plea. He just wanted for the girl to pop out of hiding, to show herself so that they could get on with the night. This game was demonic, the rules childish, the overall idea just trivial. What was so exciting about scaring one’s guardian? Where did the thrill of nearly scaring one’s parent to death jump in at? Maybe he was slow or mentally ill, but the adult had never understood the ethics of the game; he’d never cared for a hide and seek.
“Belle?” the call danced from his lips in a somewhat frantic whisper as he quickened his step and continued to blatantly search around the immediate area for a small girl blonde girl that had recently taken on the form of a pumpkin. It was a twisted fairy tale of sorts, instead of a princess, the girl of six had transformed herself into an over sixed, red-orange lump. Had the clock struck midnight, was she now gone?
Peering down upon the watch upon his wrist, the doctor quickened his step in the direction that he’d been heading whilst the child had been beside him. Maybe she’d run ahead, maybe she was just a door before him, getting her fill on the night’s sweetest. “Isabelle!” The aged male continued to call, running around aimlessly, not sure of where he was to go next, unsure of where to check. Though he wasn’t a parent, he didn’t posses that natural instinct that was usually acquired by mothers and this fact scared him. The fact that there was something he could do was a relief, but when it was contradicted with the knowledge that he didn’t know what this ‘something’ was... well, this sent a splurge of panic rushing through his veins and down his spine.
Another exasperated cry escaped Mr. Thomas’ lips as he caught a glimpse of a light haired female heading toward the edge of the clearing. Without further hesitation he followed, his frail legs somehow managing to reach a speed that he’d never before managed in his life. That was her, it had to be here. The kid was wearing orange; she was about Belle’s height and had those tresses that he’d be able to recognize anywhere. His daughter was before him, but she was running away as if she hadn’t heard. Or as if she was trying to escape…
Victor rounded another corner, this one brought the count up to three. Still sprinting to his fullest capabilities, he parted his parched lips in order to utter his offspring’s title once more, but not a sound escaped. He was out of breath, straining his every muscle to catch up and she only seemed to be getting farther and farther away. Once more a sense of urgency pulsed through him and Vic managed to push himself onto a new level. He was going to catch her..
I’m going to catch her..
If the male didn’t keep repeating these words onto himself then he knew for certain he’d give up sooner or later. His body would give out under him and the girl would keep going. She’d keep running and there’d be nothing more that he could do. It felt necessary for him to try her name again though all attempts at gaining her attention from such an action was futile. He’d just be wasting his own breath, killing all previous efforts by running down his own energy.
They were cutting through a woodsy area at this point. The little deaf girl was just that close, he could practically feel the moisture of his skin, catch a whiff of the shampoo within her locks as he edged nearer. He was getting closer. Evidently the young one’s energy was wearing out, Victor would just have to push himself for a moment longer before he could truly reach out to stop her…he’d have to push.
Now in the clear, Sir Thomas rounded another corner, expecting to find himself within inches of his child, only to be let down, for she was gone. All traces of the one that he’d been chasing, all tracks and even the scent… all gone. Victor froze in his tracks, his breathing hard, and eyes dilated as he took in his new surroundings.
Emerald hues hovered over the property before him. Suddenly, the doctor felt as though he’d been dropping within the middle of a nineties horror movie, as if he had just followed the breadcrumbs to his own demise. However, there wasn’t enough time for such thoughts to subside; the raven haired figure had to figure on the mission at hand. He had to find his child.
He Had To.
The answer to the inquiry that was soon about to across his mind was already obvious. There was nothing else that he could do rather than head to the door of the estate and step within. For the next five minutes at the least, Victor Thomas would have to forget all of those stories that had been passed along during his childhood years, and step within this supposedly haunted house. A bead of sweat caressed his cheek as he continued through the unkempt yard and onto the porch that shaded the little bit of light that had been provided by the moon, away from him.
Enveloped in the dark of the night, Vic knocked twice before twisting the knob…
anything else?;; ily. =3
