Name: Peter Colman
Age: 17
Birthday: July 27th
Gender: Male, he / his
Species: Goo, formerly human.
Category: Student
Class: High School
Grade: Junior year (11)
Appearance Description:
A light smell of burnt rubber surrounds this large, towering nearly-six foot... Thing. White circles peer out of a field of black, lines of grey streaking through them in non-patterned waves. A primarily humanoid shape, dripping lightly at each of his limbs, only to pull back before they disconnect; like a runny nose being pulled in by a quick drawing of breath. While he's not very keen on the idea of a uniform, he begrudgingly wears one, since going without would make things a little awkward. A pair of suspenders are necessary to ensure his pants don't just slide off his lower body, and are instead, held in place on his shoulders (as long as he maintains them). His "hair" is more akin to long dreadlocks, though they're nothing more than excess ooze spilling from the back of his head, "tied back" into a ponytail, though able to use as a resource if he wishes to redistribute them.
Biography:
A broken home wasn't what Peter came from. His parents tried their hardest to make his life decent, but between multiple jobs, other obligations, and general apathy on Peter's part, they weren't really there for him. Because he grew up in a bad part of town, he turned to a sort of "gang" in his early teens, he slowly began breaking more and more laws as he got older. After he turned 15, his friends started teaching him how to drive, which he had a surprising knack for. After he got his license, he found himself breaking into and stealing cars for his group. It was fairly routine at that point, one of their members had an uncle who ran a chop shop, was willing to pay more than any minimum wage job would run. His best friend would join him, pick the locks, and disable the alarm, with Peter hotwiring the car. Then, Peter would drive it back without getting the police's attention, dropping it off at Monty's.
After months of doing this, targeting different areas as to not let the police catch onto them, it was time for a big score:there was this fancy car that had been going around town that Monty wanted for himself. He'd change out the plate, make a few knicks that made it look different, change the cosmetics, replace the ID numbers... He was willing to pay more for this car than any other car before it, and for good reason. The car would naturally attract attention, and if the police saw him drive it to his chop shop, then their whole operation could potentially be ruined altogether. Get it back quick and get it back safe.
They managed to grab the car from the owner's workplace, parking far away from the building as to not let it get hit by some idiot, and instead, way more easily carjacked. Peter in the driver's seat, his best friend in the passenger, quickly worked to get the alarm off, and sped off towards the Chop Shop, taking the highway since it was the fastest way. Going way over the speed limit, Peter weaved in and out of traffic, before getting caught between the side of a bridge and a truck carrying something that read "Hazardous Material". Something happened to the driver, either he didn't see Peter there, he'd come up too quickly, or maybe he fell asleep at the wheel; either way, the two cars went over the side of the bridge into the construction zone down below.
Peter decided that jumping out was the best option, that he wasn't sure what would happen to the car once it hit the ground. He ended up landing in the exposed wet asphalt. Only to have the truck that they'd hit land on top of him, too, spilling out whatever it was onto the ground below. He felt his body hit the ground, the pain surged through him, almost enough to black out, but barely hanging on. When the truck hit him, too, he was almost unconscious when the liquid from it began to vitalize him, somehow, burning his skin, making it feel as though acid was literally eating away at him, sending him into a fit of panic. He tried to escape the murky, viscous liquid of the asphalt, and managed to climb his way out from underneath the truck.
Nobody seemed to have noticed him, and he opened his mouth to call out for help, when he noticed the car he'd been driving. It was on fire. No, his best friend must have been dead. They'd trace it back to them somehow, he'd get killed, if he somehow managed to survive this. He'd found himself standing up now, despite not remembering having done so. When he looked at himself, covered in thick, black asphalt, he wondered how he was even able to move around, given the thickness of it. But yet he felt no physical weight on him, only psychological. So he ran.
When it didn't wash off, instead, just deflecting off the water, scraping proved nothing more than literally separating his arm off. He panicked, and quickly picked it back up with his other, "reattaching it", only to find that doing so somehow worked. Looking in the mirror, he tried to piece together not only how he survived, but what he'd become. His body dripped constantly, but he seemed to be able to hold it back if he focused on it, shifting his body around, flattening, dripping, pulling back, hardening slightly, only to begin to ooze again. He'd become some sort of monster. He'd killed his best friend. So he ran.
Taking refuge in an under-bridge water drain, he wasn't sure what to do. He tried to see what was going on with his body, testing how far he could stretch himself, dispersing himself, letting himself melt to the ground, build himself back up, generally testing his limits. When day turned to night, he did not feel tired, and wasn't even sure what would happen if he did sleep. As far as he could tell, he lacked any real structure anymore. If he went to sleep, would he still be himself when he woke up? He didn't want to find out. A few days of getting his bearings on his abilities, and he found a letter in his little hideout addressed to him. It told of a place that he could be him again. With nothing to lose, he waited for them.
Personality Description:
Peter's personality has changed significantly since the crash. He's calmed down a lot more than he was, his impulsive nature slowly starting to turn into a more "think first" mentality. While he used to be more "in it for the sake of myself", he's slowly been coming around for a more altruistic mindset, given that he had a second chance, and feels he has to earn it somehow. This is not to say that he just bends over backwards for anyone who wants his help, but he'll begrudgingly give his help to someone who needs it, if he thinks he'd be able to help. In a more reserved setting, however, he's very collected, and he has to be, as he's not sure what would happen if he didn't constantly think of himself being held together. As such, he's often mentally preoccupied, and can't focus on many things at once.
Species Abilities:
Peter's body is made of a thick black, tar-like substance. It's soft, yet thick, uncomfortably warm and sticky to the touch. While he's managed to get a better grip on what abilities he has, he's definitely not proficient with them, and it's quite possible he'll learn more of what he can do in the future:
Forced Concentration: Peter isn't sure what will happen to him if he doesn't focus being on what he is; lapses in thought have made him realize he's dissolving into a puddle, only for him to shape himself up and begin to melt down again. It's very possible that by not focusing on being who he is, very frequently, he may just lose himself entirely. After all, there's no brain in that puddle, right?
Rudimentary Shapeshifting: While he can't mimic another person, or even replace his old form, he can shape shift into various sizes, shapes and (to a minor degree) textures. As an example, he can, say, stretch his arm out, causing it to be significantly thinner, but longer, to either reach to a higher place, or lash like a whip. He can pull himself closer together to make himself denser, tougher, thicker, or let himself grow and effectively be filled with air; a pop in his surface causing him to lose structure and plop back down to the ground. When it comes to grates / bars / other small barriers, he can "ooze" around them, splitting apart just enough to get around them, and form again. He can slip through spaces as small as a 3-inch circle, anything smaller than that, and he'd be worried about maintaining his entire 6-foot stature.
Stickiness: Being made out of whatever tar-asphalt stuff he is, there's a noticeable stickiness to him, one that gives some resistance when pulled apart from, but it's not a complete adhesive unless it's in contact for a long time. By putting more of his surface area against something, he can have a better hold on it, but the farther he disperses himself, the less connection he'll have to say, the ground, or another point. (Say he wants to catch someone that's falling while he's holding onto the side of a building. By catching them, he'd have to use a lot of his surface area to catch, which means his connection to the building will be thin, and potentially break).
Self-Projectile / Reabsorption: He's found that he can launch a part of himself away and against the wall / objects. If he goes to reclaim it before it hardens and dries, he can re-absorb it back into his body to be used again, but if left alone, he finds it's unable to be reclaimed, rendering it just a blob of asphalt wherever he left it. While he hasn't tried it, if he knows he's about to be cut in half / split into bits, and tries to hold himself together, he will naturally pull his chunks together and reform. Because he can't re-absorb pieces of himself that have already hardened, he's not keen on using this ability as often.
Extreme Fire Weakness A lit cigarette alerted him to this one. He's extremely susceptible to fire, and an open flame close to him will actually cause him to be lit on fire, and need to extinguish it. Water and smothering are both fine options to put him out, but whatever's burned off of him will permanently remove that much of his body from him, and harden a part of his skin (though, since he can move it around, it doesn't necessarily stay in that place. This is how he gets around without leaving sticky footprints; the bottoms of his feet are hardened asphalt).
Weakness to Cold: Putting him at a below 32 will cause his body to lock up. He won't die from it, but he will be unable to move, only to think. Returning him to a temperature above 32 degrees will allow him to slowly work himself out of it, and above 40 is a more habitable range for him to move freely. If he's shattered while in a deep freeze, he'll have a harder time keeping all of his pieces "active", and eventually may just lose consciousness altogether.
Electric Immunity: Electric currents do not flow well through Peter, instead, his body absorbs them. Should he hold on to a live wire, he will feel nothing, but he will still discharge it through his body should something else come into contact with him.
Powers: Nothing beyond his "species abilities".
Age: 17
Birthday: July 27th
Gender: Male, he / his
Species: Goo, formerly human.
Category: Student
Class: High School
Grade: Junior year (11)
Appearance Description:
A light smell of burnt rubber surrounds this large, towering nearly-six foot... Thing. White circles peer out of a field of black, lines of grey streaking through them in non-patterned waves. A primarily humanoid shape, dripping lightly at each of his limbs, only to pull back before they disconnect; like a runny nose being pulled in by a quick drawing of breath. While he's not very keen on the idea of a uniform, he begrudgingly wears one, since going without would make things a little awkward. A pair of suspenders are necessary to ensure his pants don't just slide off his lower body, and are instead, held in place on his shoulders (as long as he maintains them). His "hair" is more akin to long dreadlocks, though they're nothing more than excess ooze spilling from the back of his head, "tied back" into a ponytail, though able to use as a resource if he wishes to redistribute them.
Biography:
A broken home wasn't what Peter came from. His parents tried their hardest to make his life decent, but between multiple jobs, other obligations, and general apathy on Peter's part, they weren't really there for him. Because he grew up in a bad part of town, he turned to a sort of "gang" in his early teens, he slowly began breaking more and more laws as he got older. After he turned 15, his friends started teaching him how to drive, which he had a surprising knack for. After he got his license, he found himself breaking into and stealing cars for his group. It was fairly routine at that point, one of their members had an uncle who ran a chop shop, was willing to pay more than any minimum wage job would run. His best friend would join him, pick the locks, and disable the alarm, with Peter hotwiring the car. Then, Peter would drive it back without getting the police's attention, dropping it off at Monty's.
After months of doing this, targeting different areas as to not let the police catch onto them, it was time for a big score:there was this fancy car that had been going around town that Monty wanted for himself. He'd change out the plate, make a few knicks that made it look different, change the cosmetics, replace the ID numbers... He was willing to pay more for this car than any other car before it, and for good reason. The car would naturally attract attention, and if the police saw him drive it to his chop shop, then their whole operation could potentially be ruined altogether. Get it back quick and get it back safe.
They managed to grab the car from the owner's workplace, parking far away from the building as to not let it get hit by some idiot, and instead, way more easily carjacked. Peter in the driver's seat, his best friend in the passenger, quickly worked to get the alarm off, and sped off towards the Chop Shop, taking the highway since it was the fastest way. Going way over the speed limit, Peter weaved in and out of traffic, before getting caught between the side of a bridge and a truck carrying something that read "Hazardous Material". Something happened to the driver, either he didn't see Peter there, he'd come up too quickly, or maybe he fell asleep at the wheel; either way, the two cars went over the side of the bridge into the construction zone down below.
Peter decided that jumping out was the best option, that he wasn't sure what would happen to the car once it hit the ground. He ended up landing in the exposed wet asphalt. Only to have the truck that they'd hit land on top of him, too, spilling out whatever it was onto the ground below. He felt his body hit the ground, the pain surged through him, almost enough to black out, but barely hanging on. When the truck hit him, too, he was almost unconscious when the liquid from it began to vitalize him, somehow, burning his skin, making it feel as though acid was literally eating away at him, sending him into a fit of panic. He tried to escape the murky, viscous liquid of the asphalt, and managed to climb his way out from underneath the truck.
Nobody seemed to have noticed him, and he opened his mouth to call out for help, when he noticed the car he'd been driving. It was on fire. No, his best friend must have been dead. They'd trace it back to them somehow, he'd get killed, if he somehow managed to survive this. He'd found himself standing up now, despite not remembering having done so. When he looked at himself, covered in thick, black asphalt, he wondered how he was even able to move around, given the thickness of it. But yet he felt no physical weight on him, only psychological. So he ran.
When it didn't wash off, instead, just deflecting off the water, scraping proved nothing more than literally separating his arm off. He panicked, and quickly picked it back up with his other, "reattaching it", only to find that doing so somehow worked. Looking in the mirror, he tried to piece together not only how he survived, but what he'd become. His body dripped constantly, but he seemed to be able to hold it back if he focused on it, shifting his body around, flattening, dripping, pulling back, hardening slightly, only to begin to ooze again. He'd become some sort of monster. He'd killed his best friend. So he ran.
Taking refuge in an under-bridge water drain, he wasn't sure what to do. He tried to see what was going on with his body, testing how far he could stretch himself, dispersing himself, letting himself melt to the ground, build himself back up, generally testing his limits. When day turned to night, he did not feel tired, and wasn't even sure what would happen if he did sleep. As far as he could tell, he lacked any real structure anymore. If he went to sleep, would he still be himself when he woke up? He didn't want to find out. A few days of getting his bearings on his abilities, and he found a letter in his little hideout addressed to him. It told of a place that he could be him again. With nothing to lose, he waited for them.
Personality Description:
Peter's personality has changed significantly since the crash. He's calmed down a lot more than he was, his impulsive nature slowly starting to turn into a more "think first" mentality. While he used to be more "in it for the sake of myself", he's slowly been coming around for a more altruistic mindset, given that he had a second chance, and feels he has to earn it somehow. This is not to say that he just bends over backwards for anyone who wants his help, but he'll begrudgingly give his help to someone who needs it, if he thinks he'd be able to help. In a more reserved setting, however, he's very collected, and he has to be, as he's not sure what would happen if he didn't constantly think of himself being held together. As such, he's often mentally preoccupied, and can't focus on many things at once.
Species Abilities:
Peter's body is made of a thick black, tar-like substance. It's soft, yet thick, uncomfortably warm and sticky to the touch. While he's managed to get a better grip on what abilities he has, he's definitely not proficient with them, and it's quite possible he'll learn more of what he can do in the future:
Forced Concentration: Peter isn't sure what will happen to him if he doesn't focus being on what he is; lapses in thought have made him realize he's dissolving into a puddle, only for him to shape himself up and begin to melt down again. It's very possible that by not focusing on being who he is, very frequently, he may just lose himself entirely. After all, there's no brain in that puddle, right?
Rudimentary Shapeshifting: While he can't mimic another person, or even replace his old form, he can shape shift into various sizes, shapes and (to a minor degree) textures. As an example, he can, say, stretch his arm out, causing it to be significantly thinner, but longer, to either reach to a higher place, or lash like a whip. He can pull himself closer together to make himself denser, tougher, thicker, or let himself grow and effectively be filled with air; a pop in his surface causing him to lose structure and plop back down to the ground. When it comes to grates / bars / other small barriers, he can "ooze" around them, splitting apart just enough to get around them, and form again. He can slip through spaces as small as a 3-inch circle, anything smaller than that, and he'd be worried about maintaining his entire 6-foot stature.
Stickiness: Being made out of whatever tar-asphalt stuff he is, there's a noticeable stickiness to him, one that gives some resistance when pulled apart from, but it's not a complete adhesive unless it's in contact for a long time. By putting more of his surface area against something, he can have a better hold on it, but the farther he disperses himself, the less connection he'll have to say, the ground, or another point. (Say he wants to catch someone that's falling while he's holding onto the side of a building. By catching them, he'd have to use a lot of his surface area to catch, which means his connection to the building will be thin, and potentially break).
Self-Projectile / Reabsorption: He's found that he can launch a part of himself away and against the wall / objects. If he goes to reclaim it before it hardens and dries, he can re-absorb it back into his body to be used again, but if left alone, he finds it's unable to be reclaimed, rendering it just a blob of asphalt wherever he left it. While he hasn't tried it, if he knows he's about to be cut in half / split into bits, and tries to hold himself together, he will naturally pull his chunks together and reform. Because he can't re-absorb pieces of himself that have already hardened, he's not keen on using this ability as often.
Extreme Fire Weakness A lit cigarette alerted him to this one. He's extremely susceptible to fire, and an open flame close to him will actually cause him to be lit on fire, and need to extinguish it. Water and smothering are both fine options to put him out, but whatever's burned off of him will permanently remove that much of his body from him, and harden a part of his skin (though, since he can move it around, it doesn't necessarily stay in that place. This is how he gets around without leaving sticky footprints; the bottoms of his feet are hardened asphalt).
Weakness to Cold: Putting him at a below 32 will cause his body to lock up. He won't die from it, but he will be unable to move, only to think. Returning him to a temperature above 32 degrees will allow him to slowly work himself out of it, and above 40 is a more habitable range for him to move freely. If he's shattered while in a deep freeze, he'll have a harder time keeping all of his pieces "active", and eventually may just lose consciousness altogether.
Electric Immunity: Electric currents do not flow well through Peter, instead, his body absorbs them. Should he hold on to a live wire, he will feel nothing, but he will still discharge it through his body should something else come into contact with him.
Powers: Nothing beyond his "species abilities".
