--NOTE: Bonus points for any added information you wish to put in to your application--
You may post an OOC app (Below) or IC app (Just change 'Char Name' to 'Name' and answer as your character would
--IC/OOC APP- (Delete as appropriate)
Char Name(Full): Blake Eric Mercer
Char Race: Badger - Cyborg
Char Age: 47
Job Before Application: Systems Engineer
Wanted Rank(Are you willing to have a lower rank than this?): Ables'man, will accept Higher or Lower Rank if needed.
Position Applying for: Engineering.
Experience in Position: - Two Decades Service on the U.S.S. Ravenloft, Four Years Service on the USS Promethean, and Three Years Service on the USS Strongarm.
Character Description: Given that his uniform was ill-fitting he didn't look so prim and proper that everyone expected of any crewmen. His chest was a tad too large; his feet a tad too small, his pants a tad too large. His waist being belted down with girdles, belts, utility speculi, and much more; this was from experience upon many ships that lacked certain objects as carriable or portable. While he was an Ables'man he was a fully knowledgeable sort, his large body often seen in uniquely cramped positions when he worked; magnetic grips on what appeared to be 'suit boots turned on while repairing certain hard to reach objects. Tall and thickly built, there was something not right about those eyes, one being a dark, vibrant brown; and the other glowing a sickly green; if that didn't tip off anyone to what he was... The mechanical whine as he moved his right arm and left leg would...
He was a Cyborg. A machine Man. Fully functioning work of both tooling and biology.
Short RP Post: The fact he was forced to test once more for 'loyalty' to Starfleet was not unusual. Years and years of solitude had cleared his record of any 'infringements', his act sparkling as he'd spoken the oaths, recited what was seen as silly in his eyes.
He was twenty at the time.
Years had gone by since then, his ships being transferred over and over; the cacaphoney of laughter at his unfortunate accidents as a boy had always been... Painful for him to endure. So, he stares at his hands; one of metal the other... of Flesh. A sigh was heard as he just stared; the early morning hours of his thirty six hour day were always the worst of his life, he remembered everything, he remembered the pain of laughter or the stinging rejection of female company. He never understood what made his cybernetics really a liability. Sure he had to be repaired... But...
Was that really what made him a freak~
The alarm for docking sounds; and he decides it's a good day, and, donning his attire he begins off to start work on haggling for his price from those damnable monkies.
Abilities(Spelling Error Here)/Skills/Strengths: Technical Skill, Near Perfect Calculation of Numbers, Friendly with Ports, Strength is on par with some larger species, Incredible Tolerance for Higher Gravities.
Weaknesses: Keeping his temper (Call him a Robot and find out), Style (He looks like a Grease Monkey), Toleration of Alcohol (Cybernetics attempt to purge the system and he ends up MORE drunk than before.), and a 36 (19 working 5 recreation 12 sleeping) hour schedule that needs to be fixed.
Other: He's kind've a Chubby Chaser; healthy women with enough cushion are liked... Uh, oh, he doesn't drink because it fucks his cybernetics up.
[And Merry Christmas!