NAME: Max Rockatansky ALIASES:Road Warrior, Fool, The Raggedy Man GENDER: Male AGE: Forty-something? HEIGHT: 5'9" WEIGHT: 180 lbs HAIR: Brown EYES: Blue-grey TRAITS: Quiet, prone to occasional hallucinations, impatient, clever, erratically altruistic. LIKES: His car, children, dogs. DISLIKES: Being confined/restrained, cruelty. SKILLS: Expert driving, firearms, lockpicking, hand-to-hand combat, basic auto mechanics. STRENGTHS: Berserker rage/adrenaline, fast reflexes, fierce survival instinct. WEAKNESSES: Mental instability, damaged left knee, slightly hard of hearing.
Max is not all that distinctive physically, fairly average height and build with brown hair that varies between chopped off short and chopped off shorter, except if he forgets himself for too long and grows out both hair and beard to ridiculous lengths. He is, due to living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, almost perpetually filthy and poorly-shaven. Personal hygiene products are so hard to come by these days.
What does tend to stand out about Max is the tense, feral air about him. He's a product of his environment, hell bent on survival above all else, and no longer entirely sane. He is often jumpy, movements a little twitchy and fidgety except in a fight. He has a habit of staring past people sometimes, and generally avoids physical contact. Backed into a corner he sometimes flies into a berserker mood, lashing out with little regard for the consequences to his own body. The rest of the time his body language just reads as nervous, a perpetual flight-or-fight mode. Almost the only time he seems calm and focused is in the heat of battle.
Because he lives on the road, Max tends to carry all he owns with him, so he is often burdened with an assortment of extra pouches and/or belts, water canteens, and other equipment. He's usually carrying a gun or three, a knife, and spare ammunition. His clothing is dusty and frayed; a loose long-sleeved shirt, well-mended pants, and sturdy boots. His jacket is leather, missing the right sleeve and obviously held together with a lot of repairs. On the right shoulder of the jacket is an attached shoulder pad scavenged possibly from some kind of sports equipment. On his left leg Max wears a hinged brace made of metal struts and leather straps, to give extra support to that knee.
Under his clothes, Max bears a wide assortment of scars, and on his back is a tattoo that appears upside-down which reads:
Day 12045 ht 10 hands
180 lbs No Name
No lumps No Bumps Full life Clear
Two good eyes No Busted limbs
Piss OK Genitals intact
Multiple scars Heals Fast
O-NEGATIVE HIGH OCTANE
Lone Road Warrior Rundown on the Powder Lakes
V8 No guzzoline No supplies
ISOLATE PSYCHOTIC Keep Muzzled
There's some messy scar tissue around his left knee, possibly an old gunshot wound, and the last two fingers of his left hand are slightly crooked as if broken and badly re-healed.
At first meeting, Max often comes across as semi-feral, insane, or both, and that is not an inaccurate impression. Personal tragedy and too much time alone has left Max with frequent hallucinations, and survival instincts that sometimes trump what's left of his sense of reason. In a better world, he would be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, but out in the Wasteland that's par for the course for a lot of people, and various incidents in his life have repeatedly put him under mental stress that's worsened the condition.
Max is aware that his hallucinations are not normal, but has also come to accept that they are normal for him, and they serve as some kind of company. If triggered, he sometimes starts to look at things that aren't there, or even lock up and become unresponsive, and while he's vaguely aware how this probably looks to outsiders he rarely apologizes for it afterwards.
In addition to the hallucinations, Max often struggles with speaking, having to search for his words. Sometimes it's just easier to grunt or nod, and he's usually surprisingly effective at getting across some basic meanings this way. If he has something important to say, he'll make the attempt, and he does appreciate when other people are patient enough to let him hunt out the words to do it. Getting him talking, and keeping him talking, tends to make it all easier since his main problem is a sheer lack of regular practice. His voice is low and sometimes a little hoarse, but his vocabulary shows intelligence and education. He's clever and thoughtful, despite being uneasy speaking, and anyone who takes him for a simple fool is in for a surprise. Max can read fluently, knows a little sign language, is a fairly skilled mechanic and a self-taught but good cartographer. His feral instincts sometimes trump his intelligence, but given time to think instead of simply react to immediate danger, he's more inclined to assess and plan.
When in doubt, always feel free to send the mun a message, I play by inbox and am always happy to hash out details so there's no god-moding by accident.
Threadhopping: I don't unless invited. Best to check with other players involved first.
Fourthwalling: No thank you. His brain is broken enough as it is.
Hugging this character: If he's not in fight-or-flight mode, you can try. Don't expect it to be returned.
Kissing this character: See above...
Flirting with this character: Expect to get a blank look in return.
Smut: Possibly. I rarely RP smut, and only with somebody I'm very familiar with playing with, and some OOC contact on the side.
Fighting with this character: Sure, Max is a fighter when he's in a corner. OOC contact encouraged though, so there's no stepping on toes/godmoding by accident.
Injuring this character: Minor injuries, fine, major injuries, OOC contact first.
Killing this character: Nope.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: Not recommended, because his brain is a mess, but OOC I have no problem with this.