Post by oliver on Feb 14, 2010 17:58:03 GMT -5
Oliver Cole Maden
Sultry, Raging, Mad…
Sultry, Raging, Mad…
BACK TO BASICS ' '
Full Name: Oliver Cole Maden
Significance of Name: Maniai is translated to the word ‘Madness’ or ‘Frenzy’, to connect the relationship to the greek myth of Maniai and the character’s name I placed the word ‘Mad’ in Oliver’s last name.
Nickname(s): Cole
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
Grade: Senior
Celeb you're using: Robert Patterson
Deity: god's name - Maniai Greek
Title of your deity: God of Rage
STRIKE A POSE ' '
Physical Appearance:
Oliver wouldn‘t be one to stand out of a crowd. At first glance it is easy to underestimate the boy’s physical beauty. His pale skin tone grabs no female attention as boys with a golden tan could easily accomplish. Not to say that his repulsive to look at, he just needs the positive attention. When looked at directly, it‘s his eyes that grabs most hearts. Smoldering hazelnut eyes, with a sense of passion that could make majority of the female population weak at the knees.
He has a rough haircut, pulled back with a few strands of hair dangling at the peak of his brow. Many mom‘s would protest on this being a decent hair style and suggest a haircut, but Oliver pays no mind on things like hair. So, it usually remains uncut, unstyled, but overall, quite clean.
His everyday outfit consists of fitting blue jeans and a black tee shirt. Simple, leaving no impact in the fashion industry, but good enough for Oliver. Some days he likes to spice it up and change the color of his tee shirt to grey, or a daring green.
Standing the average height of 6‘1’’, with an average build, and average day wearing, you could easily pick him out and call him an average boy, but that‘s where your wrong and as unsettling as it may sound, the boy himself is not as average as his appearance.
LET'S GET TO KNOW YOU BETTER ' '
Personality Description:
Oliver enjoys long walks on the beach, watching the sunset, and would love nothing more than world peace. Oh course, that’s a joke. Especially the world peace bit. He is nothing like Ms. America. Oliver is a demented, fire torch, that would secretly love nothing better than to watch a building fall.
Oliver is wild. Wild as in not the party frat boy who drinks too much, but wild as in untamed. The ultimate definition of destruction. In the mind of Maden, playing with fire is ideal. Unfortunately for us Oliver has no sense of danger and would go as far as putting another person’s life at stake. It’s not a rare thing for one of Oliver’s friend to whined up damaged do to his carelessness or mindless rage.
Oliver is mad. The boy has a temper problem, as do we all, but his is kicked up a notch. Luckily, his rages don’t normally show it’s ugly face to the public eye. Surprisingly, he has a high tolerance and can prevent his anger from bursting out ‘most’ of the time. But when it starts to leak, there is no stopping the frenzy about to take place. It’s almost as if his right mind completely disappeared, leaving nothing but a raged animal. It’s a hard thing to control once it’s unleashed.
Oliver is attracted. Like most boys his age, Oliver likes girls. A lot, maybe a little too much. And despite his mental frenzies and undeniable rage, he can be soft-hearted and loving. Huge romantic. Which unfortunately leaves his girlfriends with mixed feelings about the relationship.
Oliver is haunted. Every day is a challenge to tuck away the mad dealings crawling underneath his skin. A challenge to not put others in danger do to his chaos. A challenge to stay content. A challenge to be normal. The temptation to cause destruction is unbearable and leads him further and further away from sanity.
Oliver is a secret. Most people would agree to the fact that Oliver, when angry, can get a bit over the top. But they have no idea to what kind of extent the boy can take it. He plans to keep it that way. Oliver keeps his thoughts to himself, wanting nothing more than to be like everyone else. It’s only a matter of time for him to completely lose himself, only a matter of time for history to repeat itself.
Likes:
- parties
- opposite sex
- playing with fire
- adrenaline pumping activities
- sappy love songs
- war and destruction
- fuzzy socks
- & noodles
Dislikes:
- insults
- haircuts
- winter
- rain
- himself
Strength:
- powerful
- cunning
- brave
- honest
- alluring
Weaknesses:
- temper
- small pinch of insanity
- reckless
- history class
- an attractive female
Fears:
To hurt the one person he loved most..
Goal:
To live his life staying out of the crazy house
Power/Ability: Fire Manipulator
WELCOME TO MY LIFE ' '
Origin:
Britain
History:
October 12th, 1991. Twelve hours the mother spent sulking in undeniable pain. Twelve hours she spent feeling contraction after contraction. Twelve hours she spent waiting on Oliver Cole Maden to be born. Sweat drenched, and tired, the woman pushed and pushed, expecting the Gods to just end her suffering then and there. Unfortunately for her, the Gods did just that. Maria June Maden past away October 12th of 1991, right after giving birth to a healthy baby boy, Oliver Cole Maden. Since that day the father, Robert Maden, didn‘t exactly celebrate Oliver‘s birthday. In fact, he did the opposite, every year on that day, Oliver’s father would walk into his room, alcohol in hand, and blame Oliver for being the reason his mother died. “I would give you up for her any day!” would yell the intoxicated man of 48. For nine years this happened, nine unhappy birthdays, and after the night of Oliver’s ninth birthday, it stopped. On that night Oliver’s house burned down from a terrible fire of unknown cause. Police were able to drag Oliver out with only minor injuries. Robert, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The alcoholic man perished with his house. Oliver did not cry.
The boy was sent to a foster home. Scratch that, the boy was sent to many foster homes. Complaints were made about the boy’s strange behavior. How he wouldn’t get along with the other children, how he’d cause fights, catch horrifying tantrums.
It was one foster home that set Oliver’s future path. Helen Vento was preparing food for tomorrow nights supper. Marinating the turkey in her Great Grandmother’s special sauce, she would make sure that tomorrow evening’s guests would be talking about the dinner for nights to come. As she was day dreaming about the compliments expecting a blood curling scream cut through the air. The owner of the scream carried his way to the kitchen, holding his arms out. On the boy’s arms was melting skin. When asked what happened the little boy stuttered Oliver’s name. Scared and unprepared, Helen called an institute for child development and that very night the boy was sent away.
Oliver was condemned unmanageable and, for the most part, completely terrifying. He stayed at the institute for a time, staff members attempting to calm his frenzies and unexpected temper, most of the time failing instead of succeeding. It was only when Oliver turned 15 that they decided to take it a step further and give him to a place that took care of ‘special needs’.
A nicely dressed man, with a mysterious vibe walked into the institute taking care of Oliver. The staff showed him to the boy‘s room and closed the door. The man told him about a school he had created that dealt with kids like Oliver, kids who just seem different. He told him that once there, his ’odd habit’ would be able to be controlled. That he would be able to have the sense of being normal.
With that said, the man reached his hand out and Oliver, who wanted nothing more than to feel normal, took it.
CONNECTION TO THE MYTH ' '
- Oliver has a fondness of destruction
- He has mad frenzies and uncontrollable anger, Maniai were spirits of mad rage and frenzy.
- Could be considered insane, Maniai were spirits of insanity
ROLEPLAYING SAMPLE ' '
Sirens echoed down the lone street, reminding everyone about the eight o’clock curfew that was so strictly enforced. A police officer in a soldier’s uniform passed his normal post area. His lips pressed down tightly around a flamed cigarette, letting the smoke escape the side of his mouth without having to ever remove the tobacco stick. His face was clean, cute, and handsome, surrounded with yellow hair and bright blue eyes. He would be the envy of most men, but looks didn’t count for much now a days. Not in this country.
The year was 2089 and the streets looked like they did so many years ago. There were no flying cars, no robots to do your bidding, and the sidewalks were still made up of cement instead of some fine glass material. The future was nothing more than the past. It didn’t exactly have time to make progression, not since the great fall of America that took place in 2042. When the land of the free fell into dictatorship. Another civil war broke out during that period and this time the men that were suppose to win didn’t. Conflict arose, and a leader came in from the other side. A religious fanatic called ‘Sir’ . At his will everything society lived and breathed for turned into nothing but items and thoughts from the devil.
Television drew out all entertainment and allowed only one channel which broadcasted speeches made from ‘Sir’ and his party members. All religions, except for his, were cast out. Suddenly Jews, Catholics, Protestants, and more were considered devil worshipers and if the religion was practiced than execution would have to be put into consideration. Homosexuals were marked in a book and shot on sight, without any sort of explanation. The access for guns to the public was forbidden in fear of rebellion. An eight o’clock curfew was made and any who was found venturing past it was shot. Their was no freedom of speech and anyone who spoke their mind against what was done was lynched. Women no longer had the right to receive an education nor allowed to get employed. There was no hope, no freedom, but worst of all, there was no music.
The policeman in the solider uniform continued to strut around the area, keeping watch. It got a bit boring and the taste of nicotine in his mouth wasn’t satisfying his craving. His itch for something new overwhelmed him for quite some time. In fact, as devastating and immoral as it seemed for others, the man honestly couldn’t wait for a curfew breaker to come across his path. The adrenalin rush of a chase and the exciting sound of a bullet was everything the policeman could want at this point.
His feet crossed about the street sign and a small wooden house. It was imagined for the owner of the household to feel uncomfortable to have a man in uniform strutting around in his property, but there was nothing that could be done without taking a bullet in his or her head.
The nicotine stick grew short, making it almost impossible for him to not get burnt when taking it out. Spitting roughly the dead stub fell to the ground. Before he pressed his foot down to take out the pathetic flicker of fire, movement was made in the East. Eyes quickly shifted in that direction, his hand glided down to his best friend, ready to aim and press the trigger.
Company emerged from the fog, leaving the policeman in a state of disappointment. His hand left his hand gun as he examined four of his fellow soldiers sly quietly up the porch of a nearby house. He watched as the tall slim one kicked in the door and then shouts followed, calling out commands and furniture turning over. At one point there was only silence and then a loud crackle from a hand gun.
As quickly as they came in, they walked out. A few stayed on the porch, rifles hugging tightly around their shoulders. One went around back and the other stared directly at the policeman just across the street.
The identity of that one solider was made out, Commander of Section 3. The high ranked solider slowly made his way across the street meeting the Police Officer with a devil smile. At once the policeman drew up his hand in a saluting format.
“At ease boy.” he called out, peeling off his gloves. Immediately the officer undid the action, with his eyes shifting away from the commander and back to the house in which the recent event took place. The commander followed his gaze and then gave a jolly sort of cackle. “Caught a rat.”
The police officer looked back, confused. Instantly the commander answered the questioned look. “A homosexual.” The officer nodded, looking back at the house almost wishing he was in one of the other soldier’s uniform. The house was right next to his post, right next to it. The adrenalin rush was just across the street. Why wasn’t he called to perform? It was right there.
Disappointment hung above his head.
BEHIND THE SCENE ' '
Your name: Persephone [but my nickname is Sephie]
Age: 18
How long have you been RPing? 2-3 years
Where/How did you find us? I was looking for a greek role playing site for a while [hense my name] and I came across this one. :]
