Tate Hollis

Basic Info:

Player: Darkheart

Demeanor: Affable, easy-going, occasionally weird, is usually nibbling on something. A bit of a wild child, always down for a new experience. A survival nut and conspiracy theory enthusiast on the side.

Nature: Affable, easy-going, occasionally weird, and… pretty much an open book. He doesn't really hide who he is, not seeing much of a point to it. He is the loyal sort, once you get to be a good friend of his. Still adventurous, though.

Description: Tate is a chipper 15-year old fellow of Pacific Islander stock (he isn't sure which people specifically), all curly dark hair and healthy tan with rich brown eyes. Tends to dress like he's expecting an adventure (khakis, vests, and hip bags are a must), tends to carry random stuff in said adventure-wear, and is almost never seen without something to chew on. He's 5' 9" and notably 'big-boned', although that's for a very good reason for that.

Stats:

HP: 6/6
Psyche: 6/6

Brawn: 3
Agility: 2
Brains: 3

Skills:

Applied Muscle: 3 (Brawn)
Brawling: 2 (Brawn)
Research: 2 (Brains)
Running: 1 (Agility)
Streetwise: 2 (Brains)
Survival: 2 (Brains)

Supernatural Abilities:

Semi-Amorphous Body [3]: Tate looks pretty normal. Even x-rays show the usual pretty normal human bits a growing young man should have. What's less obvious is that his body can quickly gain some measure of elasticity and reorganization simply by will (and instinct) alone. He can't gruesomely warp himself, but he can tighten up cytoplasm, shift organs around, and soften bones to squeeze into small spaces and protect himself from serious harm. He has to be aware that danger's incoming, mind — catching poor Tate by surprise works just fine.

Absurdly Low-pH Biology [3]: All studies have determined that Tate is actually some sort of strange hybrid between a person and a gigantic (and impressively acidic) amoeba. What would normally be fat on a kid his size is actually a protective layer of gooey cytoplasm-like fluid that is also loaded with digestive acids and enzymes. It permeates the rest of him as well; he can eat anything organic (although taste matters), and he has impressive resistance to diseases, toxins, and acids.

Cytoplasmic Acid [3]: In the event of an emergency, Tate can exude some of his cytoplasm through his skin, either to smear it on or spit it at something. The stuff stings like the dickens, and is pretty acidic on a biological level; it's useless against things like metal and plastics, but he could melt a hole in a wooden door or really make some organic creature's day miserable.

Weaknesses:

About That Low-pH Biology… [+2 Super]: Tate has a strong allergy to high-pH materials. He has to carefully watch his food intake (even a little salt makes him feel awful and sluggish, and too much is poisonous), and introduction of high-pH materials can cause him great pain or render him mostly useless until it's either neutralized or runs its course. Rocksalt from a shotgun would ruin Tate's day and/or life, he really can't stand much seawater, and washing up is always soap-free — thankfully being hyper-acidic helps with hygiene there. ('Fun' fact: a sweaty Tate smells like someone's doused him in vinegar.)

Possessions:

On-Person:

  • Tate's Handy Haver-Hipbag (not magical, sadly)
  • Leatherman Tool
  • Mint-tin first-aid kit
  • Matching mint-tin survival kit
  • Way more (salt-free) jerky than one person should need

In-Dorm:

  • Basic outdoors/urban survival tool set
  • Big ol' bugout bag full of emergency gear, rations, and little weird doodads
  • A ukelele he can't play to save his life, but has sentimental value
  • His favorite issues of Lemuria Monthly (a conspiracy 'zine)

Personal History:

[NOW LOADING…]

Miscellaneous:

  • Yes, Tate is basically a slimeboy/walking gelatinous cube. This mostly expresses itself in his healthy appetite and the whole 'melt things' bit above.
  • Tate had considered tattoos, but the inks really don't work with with how he is biologically; they just spread out and it ends up looking like a watercolor spill.
  • Used to be a bit of a tinfoil-hat whackjob in training, but the whole 'actual strange entity' revelation and what followed has mellowed him out. Somewhat. Sort of. Maybe.
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