IDENTITY CRISIS

[Draeden]

I'm totally burnt out, I'll have to join in another time. Sorry dude.

[Ryan Ruckus]

S'all good, Drae. Here's how the official list is looking.

1. Ryan Ruckus
2. Chester Addison
3. Level One
4. Project: Kemical (JTP)
5. Scorpio
6. Stoner
7. Bobby Azula
8. Jose Ramon
9. Ariana London
10. Simon Crane
11. Black Death
12. Kill Crazy
13. Capt. Josh (unknown character)
14. ADL (as per his sign up in the other thread)

I say two more and we should be golden. But if you hop on and noticed two folks have already signed in front of you, sign up anyway, if you're interested. I'll put you on the alternates list.

Totally psyched for this...

[Fnord]

I thought I was on the list.    Fnord wants to play!

[Ryan Ruckus]

Noted, Josh.

Now... who wants to be the hammer?

[Exile]

Exile is in

[Sgt. Josh Underpants]

I'll think I'll stick with Dom, I actually do want to see someone elses take on him

[Ryan Ruckus]

And there we are. Again, feel free to post if you'd like to be an alternate. But 16 seems a perfect number; not too many, not too few. So I'm going to close official sign ups.

1. Ryan Ruckus
2. Chester Addison
3. Level One
4. Project Kemical
5. Scorpio
6. Stoner
7. Bobby Azula
8. Jose Ramon
9. Ariana London
10. Simon Crane
11. Black Death
12. Kill Crazy
13. Dominator
14. ADL
15. Fnord
16. Exile

Info, rules, PMs, and discussion to follow. Stay tuned.

[Zombie Gunn]

Quick clarification. Is the goal to infuse other people's characters with our own style of writing or to mimic their style of writing?

[Ryan Ruckus]

You don't have to write like the handler, you have to write as the character. For example, I could write as Ariana, using my usual "screenplay" RP style. Though, the actual handler of the characters will be weighing in, as winners will be decided by vote. Kind of like fantasy drafts. I'm certainly not the be all, end all of knowledge on all peoples characters, so it seemed the best way to do it was to let everyone vote on all but their own matches.

More later today.   

[Rob]

Any updates about PM info? Don't wanna say "hey where's mine", but if they've gone out.... hey where's mine?

[Ryan Ruckus]

Impromptu birthday party. If I'm not too drunk when I get home, I'll send them then. (I have the template handwritten). If I am too drunk, tomorrow morning. Its important that I have it solid before its all official, yeah?

[Rob]

NO! OFFISHAL MESSAGES NAOW.



I mean, of course. Have a fun party

[Ryan Ruckus]

Okay, here's the scoop. Each player will be randomly assigned a character to RP as. There will be a one RP limit, and a 10 day deadline per round. Once all the first round RPs are in, I will send out ballots, and each player will vote on all but their own matches. Following the votes, I'll write up round one results.

After round one, the players and characters who were eliminated will be removed, and the remaining characters will be randomly reassigned to the remaining players.
Rinse. Repeat.

All activity (discussion, RPs, etc.) will be done right here on these boards, ad all non-public communication will be via PM. Since this is the first time through, and still an experimental process, all discussion and/or suggestions are appreciated throughout. Also, it's fair game to contact the player whose character you're running, in regards to questions or clarification.  

I think that's about it, but if anything is unclear, or if there's something I've neglected to address, post questions here or PM me.

Bios are being sent now. And I'll post R2's bio as an example. PM bios back to me when you're done.

[Ryan Ruckus]

Bios have been sent, but some folks couldn't be recognized during the PMing. I dont know if it was the strange change of names or what, so I'm going to post the bio here as well.

PLAYER:

CHARACTER:

ALIGNMENT:

APPEARANCE: (basic, personal style, unique in/out of ring costume pieces):

BACKGROUND: (hometown, backstory, etc.):

CAREER HISTORY: (feds, accolades):

PERSONALITY: (point of view, fan interaction, pet peeves, etc.):

ESSENTIAL CHARACTER ELEMENTS: (gimmick, catchphrases, extra-curricular activities, nicknames, etc.):

SUPPORTING CAST: (friends, enemies, etc.):

CURRENT STORY LINE: (angles, aspirations, etc.):

ENTRANCE: (process / music):

MOVES: (finishers, signatures, basic):

OTHER: (something important not mentioned above? put it here):

SAMPLE RP: (link or post an RP which best gives an overall feel for your character):

Once I have them all in, we'll assign characters, book round one, and start deadline.

[Ryan Ruckus]

PLAYER
Ryan

CHARACTER
Ryan Ruckus

ALIGNMENT
Either will work. If your opponent is face, RP him heelish. If your opponent is heel, RP him as a face.

APPEARANCE (basic, personal style, unique in/out of ring costume pieces)
Ruck is 6-foot, 230 lbs. Shaved head. Blue eyes. Athletic build. In the ring, he wears black cargo or cut-off pajama pant shorts, combat boots, knee and elbow pads, and hand/wrist tape or red mma-style gloves. Out of the ring, he wears a black suit with no shirt and his trademark two-shades (3-D specs).


BACKGROUND (hometown, backstory, etc.)
Born in New Dover, OH. Lives in Hollywood California (or, as of right now, Siberia.) Only child. Pop culture/wrestling fan boy since he was 8. Got into wrestling at 18, worked up through the indies, etc. Is the founder of Sin City Wrestling, though he passed duties off to Doug E Fresh, in order to return to active ring work. Has a mom who lives in New Dover and an estranged father who may or may not be alive.

CAREER HISTORY (feds, accolades)
Wrestled in CCW, NCCW, NEW, WWEmpire, EWW, SCW, and now, Siberia. Held titles in all feds he was a part of, but the most notable are his SCW accomplishments. Grand-er Slam champion (every belt the company offers) and 2-time Global champion. Is the currently-reigning Mr. SCW 2009, and the Siberian Wrestling Voyle champion.

PERSONALITY (point of view, fan interaction, pet peeves, etc.)
R2 varies from a good-natured smartass, to an absurdly egotistical prick. Depends on his mood. Most of the time, he likes to dick off with jokes and pop culture references/spoofs, but he can shoot with the best of them, and will, at the drop of a hat, if the situation calls for it. Mostly, he considers life to be a an absurdist joke, but he finds ways to keep hopeful and enjoy himself. Is a life-long friend, and very loyal, unless you turn on him, but considers large groups of people to be retarded sheep. Rarely took anything too seriously in the past, but given his current situation, he's learning to.

ESSENTIAL CHARACTER ELEMENTS (gimmick, catchphrases, extra-curricular activities, nicknames, etc.)
Nicknames: R2, The Real Thing, One Man Hall of Fame, Patron Saint of Sin. Often replaces similar words (rock, fuck, etc.) with "ruck." Was, until recently, a Hollywood director (Deprivation, Hooked, and Irish Rose) a novelist (Face-Pop Culture and Ruck of Ages) and club owner (Hard-Ruck Cafe). Has a home in the Hollywood hills, complete with Ruck-Cave and voice-capable custom Rolls Royce named REF (R2 engineering 5,000). Deals mostly in pop culture references/spoofs. Smokes like a madman. Drinks Ruck-Star energy drinks. Has an online blog called: The Ruck Stops Here. Catchphrases: "You can't beat the Real Thing." If I'm not right, prove me wrong."   

SUPPORTING CAST (friends, enemies, etc.)
Foxy Fox - wife, hollywood actress, wrestler/valet.
Doug E Fresh - lifelong friend and rival (like Ken and Ryu)
Ornery Hillman - asshole manager who sent Ruck to Siberia, then put Foxy in the hospital. Public enemy #1.
DP: Ryan's cameraman, friend, and current Siberian cell mate.
R.E.F.: Talking Rolls Royce

CURRENT STORY LINE (angles, aspirations, etc.)
3 months ago, R2 was on top of the world, as SCW Global champ and member of Anti-Heroes Anonymous. Theh he and his manager Hillman had a falling out, and Ruck was sent to Siberia, where he quickly captured the Voyle title belt. He is currently waiting for revenge on Hillman for putting Foxy in the hospital and for sending R2 to Siberia in the first place. As of now, he's feuding with Hannibal Cage. Recently took second place in APWs Survive and Conquer, outlasting even the great Level-One. Believes there is an Experts-fueled inter-fed conspiracy against him, which even Siberia's Warden is a part of.

ENTRANCE (process / music)
Silence in the arena, and then a voice from the PA. "What do you wanna do with your life?" Then another voice, yelling: "I WANNA RUCK!" And a remix of Twisted Sister's I Wanna Rock hits, and Ruckus steps through an old style movie theatre curtain which descended to the entrance ramp. The moment he hits sight lines, he throws his arms out to the side, with the first two fingers on each hand crossed (sign-language double Rs). Then he nods his head along with the music and interacts with fans on the way to the ring. All the while, the crowd pumps their fists and sings: "No! No-no no-no No!" when the theme music calls for it. Upon hitting the ring, Ruck takes a seat on the top turnbuckle and awaits the start of the match.

MOVES (finishers, signatures, basic)
Ruck is a spot-monkey rounder. Most of his in-ring work is to thrill the fans or make himself look good for highlight reels. His current signature moves are the "Ruck Your Mother" (turnbuckle handstand dropkick) the "Recap" (lionsault) the Double-Spinning neckbreaker, and the crucifix pin. His finishers are the "Director's Cut" (snapmare driver), the "Plot Device" (kneeling dragon sleeper) and the "End Credits" (shooting star leg drop).

OTHER: (something important not mentioned above? put it here):

SAMPLE RP (link or post an RP which best gives an overall feel for your character)
Part 1 of my Survive and Conquer RP. So it's recent.

For Robert Altman and William S. Burroughs.
I feel ya, brothers.

- - - - - - - - -
RUCK THE WORLD - Season1. Episode 2 â€" SHORT RUCKS

The Secret Garden on the outskirts of Hollywood, though perhaps too-pretentiously named, is the paradigm of everything a floral shop should be. Lusty aromas fill the air for blocks around her. Her external décor is the precise marriage of bold-meets-strangely-tranquil. Even the infamous Sunshine State sun shines a little brighter through the smog over her rooftop. In short, she’s perfect.

And that’s why she is the ONLY choice for those who care to send the very best…


INSIDE.

“Do you have anything in like, a desert camo motif?”

A bald man in a black suit and a pair of two-tone shades stands at the check out counter. This is our hero, RYAN RUCKUS. The Real Thing. The One Man Hall of Fame. The patron Saint of Sin. One-time multi-media superstar. Two-time Sin City Wrestling Global champion. Current resident of the Siberian Wrestling prison facility. And right now, he’s currently talking to the cute little button of a sales girl, KATY SUE.

K-S: Well, we have these butterscotch roses. They’re light brown. Throw in some cinnamon sticks, a couple sprigs of baby’s breath, and viola! Desert Camo.

R2: Perfect. You’re a testament to your profession. The card should reads as follows: Dear Derek, Happy send off. Come home safe. -R2. And I’m going to need the over-night shipping on those. Definite timing issue. Money is no object.

That wasn’t entirely true. Any minute now, might become a hell of an object. But the flower shop girl didn’t need that information. All she really had to do was ask-

K-S: Cash or credit, Mr. Ruckus?

And all he had to tell her was-

R2: Store account, actually. In your files, under Foxy Fox. We’re married. I’m her husband. It’s a thing.

Too much information, Ruck. You’re rambling, and you’re running short on time. And it’s not like Foxy would mind, anyway. Being in a coma and all…

K-S: Alright, Mr. Ruckus, your order ships tomorrow. Your wife’s account will be credited 12 reward points. And you have a nice d-

But our hero is already gone…

- - - - - - - -

SIBERIAN PRISON FACILITY â€" EARLIER.

The visual scene is different now, taking on the unmistakable quality of a hand-held mini DV camera, often used in the creation of YouTube videos, yet of a slighty-higher production value than your standard webcam porn.

The setting is different too. A slate-gray cell replaces the Hollywood exterior, a cold, cement floor takes the place of Cahuenga Boulevard. And across that cold, cement floor, and in front of that slate-gray cell, the Siberian Voyle champ, Ryan Ruckus, paces back and forth, smoking an unlit straw like it’s a cigarette.

R2: It’s a lot of pressure, man. Survive and Conquer, Hunter on Lockdown, Cage at the Massacre, The Experts Invitational, Ornery Hillman, Level-One, the Warden, Bryan Payne, the lawsuit, and ANY other time in the past, I give a trademark smirk, remark some shit about ‘no rest for the wicked,’ and I’d do it. But CHRIST, I can’t hear myself think. I got Bryce Bridges concussive elbows comin’ outta one ear, and Razzle Dazzle’s midnight stroll through Central Park comin’ outta the other. Jason Royce. Pence Weatherlight! Dexter Somers. Danielle-fucking-Deathstrike!!!

He turns to the camera, exasperated.

R2: Too Reservoir Dogs for ya?

Donning a floppy, blond wig and stuffing a pillow up his shirt-

R2: How bout this… Man, this rucking sucks! I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. The Warden doesn’t let us smoke. My wife’s in a coma, I live in a prison, and everytime Gladiator comes on the screen, I want jerk the t.v. into a goddamn bridge embankment!

Breathing absurdly and pulling the wig, so it stands on end-

R2: Too Tommy Boy?

He steps on his straw cigarette to ‘put it out.’

R2: I’ll work on it…


OUTSIDE THE SECRET GARDEN. NOW.

The little bell on the Secret Garden door jingles behind Ruckus, as he steps onto Cahuenga Boulevard. Quickly, our hero lights up a smoke, using the seemingly-extraneous action to scan the nearby surroundings with his ice-blue eyes. For a moment, all seems safe. But then he sees the man.

Two blocks away, he wears a light brown trenchcoat, like an old school private eye. In his left hand, a manila envelope hangs ominously. Then his eyes catch our hero’s, and there’s an undeniable moment, where they both realize they seen each other. And that’s when the man starts running.

R2: Ruck me…

VRROOM! From nowhere, a cream & chrome Rolls Royce jettisons two lanes of traffic, pulls a U-y, and squeals to a stop in front of Ruckus. The driver’s side door swings out and open on its own, and from inside the car, an electronic voice-

REF: Get in, Ryan.

Yes, the R2 Engineering 5,000, REF for short. The very best money can buy, in terms of state-of-the-art, vocally-capable, western-european luxury cars. An unparalleled sidekick in times such as this. Which is precisely why our hero seems relieved as he jumps behind the wheel and the car speeds off, mere seconds before the trenchcoat man can catch them.

R2: Cuttin’ it close, REF.

-Ruckus blurts, catching his breath. Watching in the rearview, as the trenchcoat man diminishes behind them. Then the talking car responds in a voice not unlike Boy Meets World’s Mr. Feeny. (Or John Adams from 1776, depending on your pop-culture preferences)

REF: It would not have been an problem, if it weren’t for someone’s spur of the moment NEED to purchase flowers. What was that all about, anyway?

R2: Style points, REF.

Ruckus leans his seat back and hits the button for the auto-drive. Seventeen miles to Burbank Airport, and he could use the time to take a freaking rest.

R2: Style points…


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Excerpt from RUCK OF AGES
the forthcoming sequel to FACE-POP CULTURE
(Available in bookstores March 15th)

“You can’t just beat the match. You have to beat the reputation of those in it.”


A lot of the young guys coming up, when they see me at the Hard Ruck or our training camp shows, ask me about specialty matches. Monkeys can be trained to work a singles match, given the current standard, but if you truly want to cement yourself a legacy, look no further than the Ladder Match. The Hardcore Match. The Winner gets a Handjob Match. (Or was that a strip club thing?)

The point is, when these young guys ask me, I smile and tell them to ask someone else. I have a knack for coming up with gimmick matches. *cough* Double Down Match. *cough* Odd Man Out Match. But when it comes to winning them, the only thing I’ve ever ruled at was the cage. And I’ve lost so many of THOSE recently, they might not count either. Once is a fluke. But twice in a row, and it’s time to stop saying you’re King of the Cage; am I right?

There is, however, one thing I can say about the specialty match. A certain truth I learned (the hard way) on this long and lime-lit road: Reputation is half the battle. Whether tip-toeing a ladder, reaching for a dangling briefcase, or standing with a bullseye on your back amidst 40 opponents, Never under estimate the power of mass consciousness. The winner, almost always, is the one who’s most revered.

Sure, there are those for whom sheer force of will is enough. But let’s honest, you do that enough, and you’re bound to be known for it. And that reputation… that belief by yourself and the world, you’re the odds on favorite… That is priceless.

Great if you are the guy, sucks if your not, as they say. Cause in the end, despite the gimmicks, despite the trash talk and the ego trips, despite it all, the only legacy you must routinely outshine is your own. And so that’s my advice to all the new guys. The old guys. To everyone sitting there, reading this now. Work like a madman to build reputation.

The rest is just survive and conquer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

INSIDE THE PRISON. EARLIER.

The interior of the Siberian Wrestling Facility is simultaneously stark in its whiteness, and dull in its depressing uniformity. Square floors full of cells face a central common area, and each is meticulously stenciled and numbered. Each, except for twenty-second cell, where the stencil has been altered with a black Sharpie marker to read: R2. And from inside the cell, someone is singing Europe badly.

“Survive and Conquer!
Dun-na-dun-DAH. Dun-na-dun-dun-DAH
Dun-na-dun-DAH. Dun-na-dun-dun-dun-na-DAH!
Survive and Conqu-

?: You do know those aren’t the word’s, right?

Ruckus stops mid-chorus, microphone hairbrush still in his fist, and turns to look up at his camera man and cellmate, DP.

R2: Of course I know those aren’t the words. But it is the name of the pay per view.

See, ever since Ruckus petitioned the Warden to let DP be his acting manager â€"effectively uprooting DP from his home in Santa Monica and transplanting him to a cold, Russian hell hole- the two’s relationship has been largely bullshit free.

DP: Look- [he sinks on the bottom bunk] All I’m saying is with prestige, a future title opportunity, and $500,000 at stake, there may be a better way to prepare than singing quaintly-improved lyrics over 80’s synth-rock hits.

R2: Pshh! Says you. [Ruckus sits himself] Look, the truth of the matter is I’m just as good as everyone else in the match, but the outcome is largely based on luck. Luck that the crowd’s behind you. Luck that you draw a late number. Luck that â€"when it comes ladder time- your opponent is more spent than you are. I don’t care how much training you have, or how superhuman your stamina, nobody-be it Mr. Huggies or MDK- can keep their eyes on 38 potential threats the whole time. That reminds me.

Ruckus leans under the bunk bed a grabs a Dayplanner. Opening it, he makes note for the near future, and then slides it back under the bed.

R2; Besides, I’ve had plenty of titles, and I’ve got plenty of money. I’m in this thing to get out of the prison and get my hands on one mother-rucker-

[Okay, so Ryan Ruckus used to be a Hollywood celebrity and Sin City Wrestling champion. Then he signed with this asshole manager, who promised to make the R2 brand as big as Coca-Cola. But bastard’s methods were less than honest â€"hell, less than legal- and Ruckus let him know it wouldn’t fly. So manager arranged for Ruck to spend 6 long months amongst the worst of society, in a frozen, Siberian Prison. That manager’s name-]

R2: Ornery Hillman…

[Now you’re up to speed.]

DP: You know, Bryan Payne is this sucker too.

If Ruckus were drinking, here would the spit-take.

R2: He is?

[Bryan Payne was the man who defeated R2 for the title two months back. He’s also the one who handed Ruckus his second cage match loss. He’ ALSO the one who pointed out Hillman’s shady business dealings, which inspired Ruckus to take action, which inspired Hillman to send Ruckus to Siberia. Now you’re up to speed again.]

R2: Okay, so I’m in this thing to get my hands on TWO mother-ruckers.

DP: Level-One’s in it too.

R2: Three mother-ruckers!

[Level one had been ducking Ruckus since early last year. Or at least that’s Ryan’s story. But just think about it, L1 v. R2? It even sounds good.]

DP: Valerie Belmont too.

[ . . . ]

R2: DP, I don’t’ have a problem with Valerie.

DP: My point, Ryan, you absurd ass, is-

Ryan’s iphone rings.

R2: Hold on. I have to take this.

DP can’t believe it. He stands up from the bunk, running his fingers through his hair. Ruckus checks the screen on his cell, where a picture text is requested for download. Ruck hits the button, allowing the message, and watches as it scrolls onto the screen. And then his jaw drops.

[Right so, two weeks after Ruckus got sent to the prison facility, Hillman finagled his way into a match with Ryan’s wife, Foxy Fox. I that match, Hillman dropped Foxy directly on her neck. Twice. The swelling was so bad, the doctors put her into a drug-induced coma to facilitate her recovery. She had a strong chance of making it, they said. She just needed some SERIOUS rest.]

And there she was, in the picture on his phone, her movie-star looks bent out of shape by cords and neck braces. And there Hillman was, leaning over top of her, his stupid, rucking grin beneath his stupid rucking moustache. The message was as blatant as it was inappropriate.

“Wish you were here…”

That’s when Ryan’s cell phone explodes into splinters off the far wall of the cell, and the man previously holding it roars

DP: Shit just got serious, huh?

Ruckus takes a few deeps breaths. Runs his hands across his shaved head. Sits. Stands. Sits again. And exhales.

R2: Well, I mean, as serious as it CAN get. I AM still Ryan Ruckus, after all.

DP breathes a sigh of relief.

DP: So now’s an okay time to tell you you’re being sued?

And there’s that roar again.


HIGHWAY 101 â€" NOW.

R2’s custom, cream and chrome Rolls Royce, speeds down Highway 101, darting in and out of traffic, like a chase scene from an action movie. Inside the car, our hero’s using the on-board skype to catch up with an old friend.

“Just wanted to let you know, I’ve got your back.”

Ruckus glances toward the council screen, and there’s the smirking face of former SCW Global champ, MDK.

MDK: So what are you saying? That just because I’ve been on sabbatical, I need a handout from you?

R2: No, man. I was just saying-

MDK: That since you got lucky and caught me in fucked up headspace when you beat me for the strap last time, you’re suddenly more qualified than I am to watch my back.

R2: No, it’s not like that. I-

MDK: Seem to forget that at one point in time, I dominated you so totally, you’ll forever have ‘Inferior’ branded across your back.

R2: Christ, Danny! All I was saying was-

MDK: Ryan, chill out. I’m fucking with you. If you want to assist in my match longevity, I’m not going to stop you. And if it doesn’t take to much effort, I may even do the same for you. But make no mistake, Ruck. We’re opponents in this thing. And if I have to, I’m going to put you down. [then, smiling] Again.

[Ruckus smiles himself.]

R2: Love you too. Ass.

MDK: Good luck, mate. I’ll see you there.

R2: Word.

He ends the call and shakes his head with a smile. He’d never admit it, but it was nice to see Tenegra back, and from the sound of it, on top of his game. It was the first decent piece of he’d received in some time now. But a single glance into his rearview mirror, and our hero’s hopeful mood is dashed. Three cars back, driving an SUV that is darting in and out of traffic itself, the man in the light brown trenchcoat is in pursuit.

And he’s gaining fast.

R2: Ruck…

TO BE CONTINUED.

PM me with any character questions you may have, should you draw R2.

Word.