Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2018 22:10:04 GMT -8
Character's Name: Harry Q. Rooks
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Date of birth: May 17, 2356
Birthplace: Jefferson City, Missouri
Year of Academy Graduation: 2405
Preferred rank: Lieutenant
Department (If Cadet, what specialty?): Doctor
Are you new to the forum? If no, list one of your other characters: I have visited, I was too intimidated to uphold my character; I had created T'selis Kuvak. I intend to stay this time.
How did you find us? google search, yo
Physical Profile (height, weight, hair color, eye color, etc.): 6'0, 172lbs, dark brown hair, blue eyes
Personality:
Harry is a strong-personality with an attitude for leadership; when he's not the leader, he's the lone wolf. Off-duty he is practically vulcan, all except for his childish frustration that comes out when he's stuck. He likes having the answer, being knowledgeable, being brilliant - he likes control. He's a man of black-and-white, right-or-wrong, love-or-hate. That's why he loves being a doctor: here's an issue, here's a diagnosis, here's a treatment. Control. None of it requires attachment; simply science. He doesn't have to get close to anyone he treats, and he does everything in his power to make sure of it.
No relationships means no pain. Harry's not good at pain. He's so unused to accessing his feelings that his only outlet is anger. It's his release. He's angry, then he's done. Ever since a tragic loss in his life during his younger years, Harry has been, for lack of a better term, "grumpy". He won't let his anger interfere with is career, however.
The only time you see him completely blank-slated is while he is treating a patient. That's when he's in work-mode... distraction-mode. He's brisk and gets the job done. Despite his bad bedside-manner, he knows the rules, and he knows not to go too far. He doesn't hurt anyone, doesn't insult; he's just a jerk sometimes. As a doctor he makes sure his rudeness remains surface level - it only grazes. No puncture. Emotional injuries aren't on his agenda. His almost oxymoronic combination of gruff nonchalance somehow has this strange charisma, and he uses it to make sure he can brush off his rudeness without scratch. It doesn't mean he's sorry though.
As previously mentioned, Harry likes control. He likes the simple cause-effect of the medical field. However, human beings aren't computers... they're flesh-and-blood. They're not flawless. Sometimes injury is irreversible; illness is undiagnosed. Harry hates those occasions. Those occasions are where Harry realizes that for all his effort, he's not unattached. He's not emotionless. He's just a liar. In those occasions, Harry realizes that he loves. And what he loves is experiencing something out of his control. The best that can be hoped for him is that he matures beyond his suppression and faces his feelings head-on.
Background and History:
Harry as a child was incredibly inventive, though his affinity never fashioned toward engineering. He was often more inwardly-drawn, though he allowed himself company. His parents (William and Sasha Rooks) were more or less neglective, always busy and never having time to spend with their son - and quite honestly, never much having the interest. Harry was an only child whom his parents had never really wanted, but bound by responsibility they took care of him to at least the necessities. Harry wasn't exposed much to warmth and he himself didn't know how to express it, though he tried his best, imitating his cousin who had become his best friend, Quince Lachlan. Similar minds had conjoined; they both loved inventing and sharing their ideas and machinations of their wild imaginations. Quince was Harry's one friend and he didn't need anyone else.
Yet later, in their teenage years, Quince began spending time around the wrong crowd, believing he could get out whenever he wanted, before it went too far. He didn't have the chance. Quince and his friends went joyriding one day through the streets until they wrapped around a tree - only one of them survived, and Quince was not among them.
Harry was devastated, but, due to a childhood empty of support, he didn't know how to address his feelings and instead suppressed them, secluding himself entirely, and devoted himself to medical sciences. Somewhere in that hurting mind of his he'd somehow become convinced that, had medical technology been more efficient, his best friend would have been able to be saved. He entered Starfleet Academy before transferring into the medical academy of Starfleet (without any qualms from his parents now that they had the house to themselves), and spent several years intensively studying and learning and succeeding in a field that was Harry's only distraction from grief. It became his whole life.
He originally entered at the age of 41 and graduated the day he turned 49, then was assigned to different medical projects and starships, and got involved in the war. He was assigned to the Talon at the age of 54.
Name of Celebrity: Tom Cavanagh
Avatar of your chosen character (please include the link to the picture here). Your picture should be no more than 150 pixels wide. There are online resizing programs that can do that for you. Your picture should be self hosted on a photosharing site that allows hotlinking (ex: tinypic):
Sample Roleplay: Please write at least a 200 word sample RP post as your chosen character. RP should involve something of your character's career, not memories of their childhood, their pet, etc.
"Harry."
A Caitian Ensign called, approaching the doctor as she entered into sickbay. He turned to her with both eyebrows raised, yet with a rather uninterested expression, and corrected,
"Doctor Rooks."
"Look, it's not like we're on serious duty right now," the woman defended herself, "and we're friends."
"Doesn't matter - and, we're not friends," Harry uttered, then returned briefly to whatever little piece of technology he was twiddling with before asking without taking his gaze away from the object, "what is the nature of your medical emergency?"
I've always hated that phrase, he thought to himself, so long-winded. Mouthful.
"Ah, well, I've got a bit of a headahce." The Caitian responded and drew closer to Harry, her furry hands folded as if she were nervous.
Harry's gaze glanced down at her expression of discomfort before focusing on the monitor he was using and took this little moment to make the finishing touches on an assignment, his silence drawn out for maybe five seconds before he turned to face her fully on his heels, his hands extended in some sort of shrug.
"Easy. I'll get you an analgesic if you like and you can be on your way."
"Thanks," the woman responded, squeezing her joined hands tighter as she watched Harry retrieve the means of treatment.
He heard her let out a small, apprehensive sigh before she muttered in a slow, hesitant manner,
"...Actually... I wanted to talk to you about something too."
Harry injected the analgesic with a hypospray against her neck before tossing the object lightly from hand-to-hand once, then removed his glasses and pressed the tip against his cheek.
"Questions regarding health I assume?"
He said, his icy blue eyes watching her analytically. The woman bit her lip and looked at the ground momentarily, rocking on her heels.
"No... it's more of a personal matter," she murmured.
Harry skid on his heels in a 180-motion so that his back was turned to her, waving his glasses in the meanwhile before placing them back upon the bridge of his nose.
"Well you can talk to the counselor about whatever it is, Ensign, I can guarantee.... I will be of no help to you."
"Okay, look, Harry," the woman began, raising her voice, "I thought we were more than just colleagues sharing the same ship!"
"I'd rather you not throw a hissy fit - no pun intended," Harry said, his voice dropping to a natural whisper, then he turned his head only slightly to finish, "and for the record... you were wrong."
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Date of birth: May 17, 2356
Birthplace: Jefferson City, Missouri
Year of Academy Graduation: 2405
Preferred rank: Lieutenant
Department (If Cadet, what specialty?): Doctor
Are you new to the forum? If no, list one of your other characters: I have visited, I was too intimidated to uphold my character; I had created T'selis Kuvak. I intend to stay this time.
How did you find us? google search, yo
Physical Profile (height, weight, hair color, eye color, etc.): 6'0, 172lbs, dark brown hair, blue eyes
Personality:
Harry is a strong-personality with an attitude for leadership; when he's not the leader, he's the lone wolf. Off-duty he is practically vulcan, all except for his childish frustration that comes out when he's stuck. He likes having the answer, being knowledgeable, being brilliant - he likes control. He's a man of black-and-white, right-or-wrong, love-or-hate. That's why he loves being a doctor: here's an issue, here's a diagnosis, here's a treatment. Control. None of it requires attachment; simply science. He doesn't have to get close to anyone he treats, and he does everything in his power to make sure of it.
No relationships means no pain. Harry's not good at pain. He's so unused to accessing his feelings that his only outlet is anger. It's his release. He's angry, then he's done. Ever since a tragic loss in his life during his younger years, Harry has been, for lack of a better term, "grumpy". He won't let his anger interfere with is career, however.
The only time you see him completely blank-slated is while he is treating a patient. That's when he's in work-mode... distraction-mode. He's brisk and gets the job done. Despite his bad bedside-manner, he knows the rules, and he knows not to go too far. He doesn't hurt anyone, doesn't insult; he's just a jerk sometimes. As a doctor he makes sure his rudeness remains surface level - it only grazes. No puncture. Emotional injuries aren't on his agenda. His almost oxymoronic combination of gruff nonchalance somehow has this strange charisma, and he uses it to make sure he can brush off his rudeness without scratch. It doesn't mean he's sorry though.
As previously mentioned, Harry likes control. He likes the simple cause-effect of the medical field. However, human beings aren't computers... they're flesh-and-blood. They're not flawless. Sometimes injury is irreversible; illness is undiagnosed. Harry hates those occasions. Those occasions are where Harry realizes that for all his effort, he's not unattached. He's not emotionless. He's just a liar. In those occasions, Harry realizes that he loves. And what he loves is experiencing something out of his control. The best that can be hoped for him is that he matures beyond his suppression and faces his feelings head-on.
Background and History:
Harry as a child was incredibly inventive, though his affinity never fashioned toward engineering. He was often more inwardly-drawn, though he allowed himself company. His parents (William and Sasha Rooks) were more or less neglective, always busy and never having time to spend with their son - and quite honestly, never much having the interest. Harry was an only child whom his parents had never really wanted, but bound by responsibility they took care of him to at least the necessities. Harry wasn't exposed much to warmth and he himself didn't know how to express it, though he tried his best, imitating his cousin who had become his best friend, Quince Lachlan. Similar minds had conjoined; they both loved inventing and sharing their ideas and machinations of their wild imaginations. Quince was Harry's one friend and he didn't need anyone else.
Yet later, in their teenage years, Quince began spending time around the wrong crowd, believing he could get out whenever he wanted, before it went too far. He didn't have the chance. Quince and his friends went joyriding one day through the streets until they wrapped around a tree - only one of them survived, and Quince was not among them.
Harry was devastated, but, due to a childhood empty of support, he didn't know how to address his feelings and instead suppressed them, secluding himself entirely, and devoted himself to medical sciences. Somewhere in that hurting mind of his he'd somehow become convinced that, had medical technology been more efficient, his best friend would have been able to be saved. He entered Starfleet Academy before transferring into the medical academy of Starfleet (without any qualms from his parents now that they had the house to themselves), and spent several years intensively studying and learning and succeeding in a field that was Harry's only distraction from grief. It became his whole life.
He originally entered at the age of 41 and graduated the day he turned 49, then was assigned to different medical projects and starships, and got involved in the war. He was assigned to the Talon at the age of 54.
Name of Celebrity: Tom Cavanagh
Avatar of your chosen character (please include the link to the picture here). Your picture should be no more than 150 pixels wide. There are online resizing programs that can do that for you. Your picture should be self hosted on a photosharing site that allows hotlinking (ex: tinypic):
Sample Roleplay: Please write at least a 200 word sample RP post as your chosen character. RP should involve something of your character's career, not memories of their childhood, their pet, etc.
"Harry."
A Caitian Ensign called, approaching the doctor as she entered into sickbay. He turned to her with both eyebrows raised, yet with a rather uninterested expression, and corrected,
"Doctor Rooks."
"Look, it's not like we're on serious duty right now," the woman defended herself, "and we're friends."
"Doesn't matter - and, we're not friends," Harry uttered, then returned briefly to whatever little piece of technology he was twiddling with before asking without taking his gaze away from the object, "what is the nature of your medical emergency?"
I've always hated that phrase, he thought to himself, so long-winded. Mouthful.
"Ah, well, I've got a bit of a headahce." The Caitian responded and drew closer to Harry, her furry hands folded as if she were nervous.
Harry's gaze glanced down at her expression of discomfort before focusing on the monitor he was using and took this little moment to make the finishing touches on an assignment, his silence drawn out for maybe five seconds before he turned to face her fully on his heels, his hands extended in some sort of shrug.
"Easy. I'll get you an analgesic if you like and you can be on your way."
"Thanks," the woman responded, squeezing her joined hands tighter as she watched Harry retrieve the means of treatment.
He heard her let out a small, apprehensive sigh before she muttered in a slow, hesitant manner,
"...Actually... I wanted to talk to you about something too."
Harry injected the analgesic with a hypospray against her neck before tossing the object lightly from hand-to-hand once, then removed his glasses and pressed the tip against his cheek.
"Questions regarding health I assume?"
He said, his icy blue eyes watching her analytically. The woman bit her lip and looked at the ground momentarily, rocking on her heels.
"No... it's more of a personal matter," she murmured.
Harry skid on his heels in a 180-motion so that his back was turned to her, waving his glasses in the meanwhile before placing them back upon the bridge of his nose.
"Well you can talk to the counselor about whatever it is, Ensign, I can guarantee.... I will be of no help to you."
"Okay, look, Harry," the woman began, raising her voice, "I thought we were more than just colleagues sharing the same ship!"
"I'd rather you not throw a hissy fit - no pun intended," Harry said, his voice dropping to a natural whisper, then he turned his head only slightly to finish, "and for the record... you were wrong."