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Vitami Gattington

Retired Staff
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Vitami Gattington last won the day on June 28

Vitami Gattington had the most liked content!

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396 Excellent

Roleplay Information

  • SteamID64
  • 1st RP Character Name
    Vitami Gattington
  • 2nd RP Character Name
    Riviera Styx
  • 3rd RP Character Name
    Phoebe Xiao Mao

Recent Profile Visitors

1170 profile views
  1. A message from Vi and Celi... I guess. JK. For real, I hope all of you are staying safe and are having a pleasant or at least a (in some way) productive holiday season. Much love
  2. Enough food to allow me to live until the next paycheque >_>;
  3. Hi Everyone! When I get to TC, I'll pick a spot, take a picture and post a time we could all possibly meet up. I'll always have my phone with me, so you can just ping me on forums and I'll see it.. within... the hour? Maybe? If I remember the venue correctly, the atrium (the main entrance way space thingie) there's meeting spots and chill spots on the upper floor before the rooms and stuff. I'm going to try and find the place we can all leave a mark. Last time at this location, it was a massive chalk board. Looking forward to seeing you all ❤️
  4. I was part of a great family. Loving parents, great sisters and brothers. I was second born, a middle child. My eldest sister was an example of who we were to be and from her, I learned that we were an elite. We went through training after training to heighten our senses and make hone our skills. We are perfect specimens and our family's purpose was to be lending a helping hand to those in need. That lifestyle was quickly ripped from my grasp. Some people came to the house. Loud noises everywhere, screaming, yelling. I was small and young with little experience. Before I knew it, I was carried off and then held on display on a chain in some dirty, damp place that smelled like metals. People would pass by and examine me like I were some piece of meat. They'd lift an arm, a leg, put a brace over my head and have me turn my head left and right so they could examine my neck. Well- I think they were looking at my neck. I don't know. They made me feel uncomfortable. Till this pretty couple came by. They spotted me and I saw nothing in their eyes. They didn't bother examining me. They had a word with the person who handled the transaction and soon, my binds were loosened from my post. I was in a sense, free, but bound to this couple. They took me to their home. Fed me and then locked me in a closet. The first night at their place, I kept hearing tinkering from the husband's study upstairs. I didn't think much of it, but I always would catch a whiff of something unusual every so often. Then, I didn't know what it was but now, I understand it was a scent associated with bombs. About four light cycles later, I couldn't handle it anymore. This smell just itched at my nose and clawed at my brain. I had to investigate. I waited till late at night with the door slightly open. I think the couple wasn't used to having someone like me around so they'd forget to close the door here and there. I got up on my feet and started padded up the stairs as silently as I could manage. My nails clicked softly when I got careless with my movements but I wasn't concerned about that. I needed to know what that smell was and get rid of it. As I approached the husband's study, I slowly peeked in. It was like a wonderland of non-moving water. Gobs of water just sat still with wet water within. Air-water poured out from the tops of them. There was a small white wall with black scratching all over it, some of the scratching were rubbed away. As I looked around, I found colorful skin covers to thin pieces of bark-tissue of trees. Some of these skin covers were open exposing the bark-tissue full of more scratching but this time, the scratching were tiny and uniform.. in a sense. And that's when it hit me. So many smells! Sweet, sour, bitey, bad, really bad, hurty, soft, fluffy, so many smells. I couldn't describe all of it. I roamed around the room, examining everything I could get to. Poking my nose into all the little canister of things. It was a wonderland of discovery! And that's when the other thing happened. The man was mad, standing at the door and growling. Furious. He yelled, roared and barked. I looked around myself. I tried to keep all the interesting things in their own piles but somehow, they got messed around. He started roaring louder and crashing the solid water filled with wet water onto the ground making a horrible shattering noise and some would come crashing into me with serious force. The whole time, he'd continue to look at me and eventually, he made a reach for me. I booked it, my claws taking a few temps at gaining traction on the ground but I finally did it and ran. I tripped and tumbled down the stairs and as I hit the bottom, I could still hear the husband making god awful noises above. I didn't want to stay. I ran to the door and as I approached it, I realized I couldn't open it on my own. So the next best thing came to mind. Headbutt it. I closed my eyes and ran full speed. The door stopped me dead in my tracks and I staggered back before I shook it off and ran at the door again. I swear I felt it give a little more but it still didn't open. Again. I ran as quick as I could and smacked into it and black. I woke up outside with pains all over my body. I think the man got a couple kicks in while I was out. They chained me to their fence and I could smell rain coming. The couple were taking things out of the house and then they drove off... I was left there to rot. Days passed and I resorted to eating bugs off the ground. I even began nibbling on the gross grass around me at the risk of purging it all up anyway but anything's better than nothing- it was a chance I'd be willing to make. It was then that I realized that the binding around my neck was loose due to my loss in mass. I started trying to wriggle free and as I was getting some progress out of that thing, I saw someone. A man in camouflage glanced at me and proceeded down the block. Then another. Then someone approached from the back yard and walked by me as well. These people were roaming like night creatures at dusk. Then, there was another. This time, he came to me and helped me free from my bindings. He didn't reach out to me immediately. He just sat by me. I felt like he just wanted to make sure nothing came by to prey upon me. He left some food for me and left with his pack. I ate. I rest. For some reason, I waited. Not for the filthy people that held me captive before. I doubted they'd come back. But I hoped this person who offered peace would... and he did. He appeared in view about a house away and faced his shoulders toward me. He gestured something that I knew very well. His right arm, closed fingers and open palm reached out half way from his side and scooped around his front and closed in to his chest. He didn't say a word, he just... Gestured. And I followed. I followed behind his pack a good half-league and he did another gesture. He squared his looked over to me till we made eye-contact and brought his right fist up to his right shoulder, brought it in and down before opening his fist with palm toward me. I stopped in my tracks and stepped behind cover. This continued till the sun disappeared and it was hard to see but by that time, we seemed to be in a place that smelled more like him and his pack. I got to drink and eat. I got to be left alone. No one touched me. They all respected me- perhaps by command of this human. He gave me a name. Duke.
  5. My brother had an NES and when he found I had an interest in fantasy lore and stuff, told me to play "Wizards and Warriors" (the game had been a several years old by the time I got to it). Wizards and Warriors III is what made me hate life for a bit. The game series in general were almost impossible for my little mind and the limitations of controllers back in the day. I experienced rage at an early age. Plus side: Frustrating games no longer make me angry.. because I experienced these lovely nuggets from the game deity of hell. The theme haunts me to this day... To the point where I randomly taught myself how to play the theme on piano by memory and sound. (no sheet music) p.s. - got so frustrated at the games then, I never finished them. I tried booting them up since then... I just turn off the system after I listen to that theme.
  6. *insert shlong swinging stickman gif*
  7. I think Vi wouldn't stick to just one job... It'd be a small selection of whatever jobs came to her or what she felt like doing. Bounty Hunter for Hire - A common misconception of this profession is that they just capture/kill for a bounty. This isn't always the case. A hunter for hire can also be an information broker as well. This kind of ties into my next job too, I think. Bard/Performer - I feel like Vi would spend some of her time regaling stories glorifying the achievements of local towns or people. I'm musically creative irl and I like to write simple melodies and such; this would totally be my jam. Bards are also known to be information brokers, stalkers or robbers. Blacksmith/Whitesmith - I just like sharp things and sometimes shiny things. Sometimes both at the same time. I'm also fascinated with the many intricate steps put into a beautiful, functional piece of work. Knight/Guardsman/Gunman/Archer - Female, so chance is a little less likely if we're talking about historical accuracy... But still. C'mon. It'd be Vi.
  8. Oldies but they are fun https://clips.twitch.tv/ObeseTardyNikudonHeyGirl - Nik wasn't quite while police were controlling a scene. https://clips.twitch.tv/BenevolentScaryHerbsPrimeMe https://clips.twitch.tv/PunchyShinyTeaTinyFace - Deep breathing exercises https://clips.twitch.tv/UgliestTentativeSnoodShazBotstix -Trashcan: SEVENTY EIGHT MONTHS?!
  9. [The video starts with dead air and light static on the screen before it's fixed with the tell tale rustling and clicking of an old cam-corder. The video is trained on the patient's side of a quiet room and remained focused on a young woman with black hair meticulously tied back with a blue band in a high pony tail. The beginning of the footage is uneventful for long, uncomfortable minutes before the grind and stretch of leather is heard somewhere behind where the viewer can't see.] Look doc, I'm not really one too interested in regaling others in her boring old story. If you don't mind, I'm perfectly content with answering specific questions and just making this quick. [It's difficult to hear the other party... The Doctor? The voice was muddied with poor audio like a radio rolling back and forth clumsily over pique frequency.] Well, my story's a pretty bland one. I'd come from a broken home, made it into college with half-way decent education and am currently studying criminology. I live in a run down hotel-repurposed apartment that feels like it'll collapse any day now. I've traveled a bit during school breaks but am otherwise unemployed. [A long drawn silence responded to Vi's introduction which seems to immediately disappoint the girl as she half-lidded her eyes and stares at the camera. She drew a slow, reluctant breath and dead-weight herself onto the chaise where she lay like how patients were often depicted to do on those things. Vi dramatically threw her hand up and rested the back of it on her forehead.] No need to twist my arm, Sir. Let's give this a shot... It began with a warm sunny evening. The sky was a beautiful blue with the soft texture of copper while the sun set. Young Jenryll Gattington and his beloved enjoy their first dinner together as a family with a tiny young daughter and her tiny twin brother-- Oh. too far back? [Her voice lifted with a bit of coy playfulness at the end of her statement, she contemplated allowing her upper body roll over the side of the furniture and stare at her specialist upside down... Which she did. The interview was to investigate a situation she happened to have been in close proximity to along with the fact that she had been in the process of applying for an authoritative position.] What do I tell you? I honestly don't know what may serve useful for these records. I've been raised by my father and mother who are now separated... Or something like it. What or when this initiated, I'm not entirely sure- but she wasn't the type of woman who'd been emotionally available for committed relationships. She did enjoy pointing out the failures of people without admitting to her own faults though. Dad's done what he could to raise.. at least two kids. Even with us, he did his best to help guide and assist others along their path in life. I could see him taking the time to ensure some other kids that weren't his own were doing well enough and stayed out of trouble. Dad always did his own thing. It doesn't bother me any, he's got his life. He cares a lot for his blood and that's much more than what I say for some. Look. With all due respect, doctor. I don't feel like I'm at a psych evaluation right now. This seems more like a psychosis therapy session. My father travels a little more than I do, he's as illusive as I am, if not more. Did he have to commit to this sort of process? [More silence ensued. Suddenly, Vitami turned her head toward the camera and stared directly at it with a blank or possibly un-amused expression. The girl slowly sat herself upright and exhaled as she leaned forward till her pony tail draped over her left clavicle.] Look. I'm sure you're going to inform me that there's something wrong with me. There's something with everyone. Quirks, unusual habits. Everything that makes a person interesting. Fun. I don't believe that I am or will ever be a danger or detriment to the force. [A voice muffled with static or some sort of quality issue comes through a little more clearly. A very curt question; "It says in our records that you stayed at 9906 Park Venue Way. It also says that you were in the apartment building on the day a tenant was found dead. Can you tell us what you know about it?" A disembodied hand is holding a photo in front of the camera showing a body at the door of a residential unit to an apartment. The body is seen belly up. However, from the neck up, there is a sloppy, messy mound- or several mounds... of flesh... pressed into the cheap, filthy vintage carpet of the hallway.] That was a day. [Her voice turned soft yet barely gentle in emotion. As her body's idle motions stilled to a disciplined squared angle toward the therapist. She stared forward and not quite at the camera but to something behind it. The sound of uneasy shifting could be heard from behind the scene.] That corpse was one; Mister Gabriel Bago. Occupation; Trucker. He was extremely abusive to his spouse so frequently; 'On several occasions' couldn't even describe how many times I heard his wife and child scream, plea and cry to him for mercy for things I doubt they'd even done. He was always seen around as a drunken, shambling, useless mess by the time he'd get home. You could tell his shitty attempts at unlocking his door by the gnarled clawing his keys made to the knob of his door. [It isn't easily noticed. However, in this poor quality footage, Vi's eyes would shift or look in directions as if reliving the scene in memory in her own perspective. Her body remained still as a Queen's Guard.] I was a weary, over tired university student who'd just taken a long 1.5 hour public transit route home. Transit did not particularly favor my end of the city and I'd miss a few busses at the stop... or they missed me. I recall it being about midnight and my shoulders felt wonderful after dropping my book bag. [She narrowed her eyes just slightly while they remained trained on something behind the camera as if she were staring down a phantom.] The walls of that building were not up to code. They were like sheet paper. Every step a person took. Sniffle. Stomp. Cough. I could hear it. So you can imagine how much of Mr. Bago's behavior I Could hear as well. He was just a couple doors down even and yet I could still hear most of it. I couldn't have been the only one... yet no one did a thing. People pretended they were asleep, busy or 'didn't notice'. I couldn't count how many times I approached that man's door, knocked and asked him in all manners and phrases to tone it down or stop. Police would be called. He'd be taken away. The next day, he'd be back because he'd only stayed overnight-- if that- at the drunk tank. That night, however? I remember very little. Like I said, it'd happened so fast it all just meshed together. I got home from martial arts- was tired and exhausted. As I walked toward my unit, I could hear him at it again, he must have gotten home moments before I had. I could hear his strikes at her. I could hear her weeping. Then I heard something different. Slightly out of the ordinary. [Her voice by this time became monotonous. Like she were half-heartedly narrating from a scene or script.] "I'll brand you as my bitch." I heard the metal ringing of what I assumed was a frying pan being pulled off from a stove and hanging silence... Whatever he pulled into his hand, he dropped. I could have felt reverberation all the way at my feet. As I stood there analyzing what I was hearing, the immistakable sounds of mechanical parts clicking and fixing together barely came through the walls. The sounds of fastening and locking... and then the noise of a slide being pulled back, released and slammed to it's original place. [Vi paused and blinked for perhaps the first time since starting the memory. She looked off to the side for only a second or two before re-assuming the position she had just seconds ago; only this time... her idle movements seemed tense. Unsure.] The rest is haizey. [Her voice faltered into a softer, lively and almost apologetic tone before she cleared her throat and masked it into a cough.] A-apologies. [Despite her attempts at maintaining the almost cold demeanor she just had, you, the watcher can tell that she isn't able to quite nail that intense air she had about her just seconds ago.] The rest is a blur. I faintly remember calling the police again and approaching his door to distract him from hurting his wife. He answered the door, sized me up and down. Told me to get lost and slammed the door shut in front of me. I knocked again. He opened the door and nearly roared directly into my face before closing the door again and before he had, I stepped forward and halted it from shutting with my boot firmly in the way. He swung the door open wide and before I could register that there was nothing between me and him, his fist made contact with my cheek in a right hook and I hit the ground. After that, I remember waking up in my apartment with Mrs. Bago and the small child looking after me as police arrived. I remained in my unit until the authorities came. I have no idea what happened to Mr. Bago or how he came to be that... sticky mound of tissue. According to Mrs. Bago, she took the opportunity to knock Mr. Bago out with a frying pan and took me to my room and shut the door. He came knocking and banging at my unit non-stop for 15 minutes and then left. [There's an awkward silence for a while before Vitami slowly brought her eyes up to the camera and stared directly into the lens, at you.]
  10. I love the LSPD ad in the background.
  11. to clarify; I was thinking of "the Depression" and "the Recession" they were all events that had time to process in order to be called such. We didn't get the chance to experience any of it. It was just.. *blip* No forums, no server, no TS. No opportunity for having experienced it as "The Great -decline event name-" Just... Disappointment
  12. Just "The Disappointment" in honor of the inconvenience that occurred lasting a week over nothing. Oh, so what have you been up to? 'Not a lot. I decided to turn my life around and work well for the city since 'The Disappointment'.' "Ahh yes. The Disappointment. T'was dark times"
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