⩕ PLAYER
Name: Gen
Age: Over 18
Contact: PM
Other character: N/A

⩕CHARACTER
Character name: Kraken
Canon: Judge Dredd
Canon point: End of "Necropolis"
History: Wiki link here
3 weaknesses & 3 strengths:
STRENGTHS:
- Pragmatic. Will not hesitate to do the advantageous thing.
- Determined/driven. Physical pain will not stop him from achieving something he wants to.
- Physical fitness and skills (forensic knowledge, strength, marksmanship, reaction time, etc)

WEAKNESSES:
- Fatalistic. May not change something within his ability because he believes it is inevitable.
- Poor sense of identity and insecure of beliefs. Has been brainwashed, and subject to counter-indoctrination, then brainwashed again.
- Self-hating. Has extremely low perception of self, believes he is innately flawed and undeserving of second chances.

⩕SAMPLES
GETTING HEALTHY

[Kraken had been less reluctant to go along with the treatment than expected. Whether it was some deeply driven instinct to obey authority, or the tone with which he was asked - he went quietly along with no objection. It was - the routine of it, he thinks. The place wasn't the same, but it was the eyes, the look, the attitude - he sat at attention in his seat, his spine ramrod straight. Face serious, hands neatly folded in his lap, waiting to be given further direction.]

[Miller has an aged face, lined with wrinkles. He adjusts the clipboard in his hands, clearing his throat. Kraken memorizes it then filed it away in the back of his head, alongside everything else he noticed about him. Describe the steps in which you would bake a cake, he's asked.]

I'm sorry?

[Miller simply repeats himself.]

No, I - understand.

[Don't ask. Don't question. Just answer. He hides his exhaustion well, staring blandly at the other. Kraken would never ask if this was a test. It's clear he's expected to figure it out, discern the point of the exercise or he would fail. And failure wasn't ever an option, nothing he would accept from himself. Before, it meant death. Being striked out before he could ever become useful, a failed investment and a project wasted. He knew he wasn't destined for ignominy, but if it was what they wanted from him, then he wouldn't hesitate to give it to them.]

[Shame it didn't stick. Both the first, and second time. He doesn't know what failing to answer means here, just yet. What giving the wrong answer means. So he tries, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.]

Ingredients. Eggs. Faux-flour. Artificial sugar. Mock-choc. Butter. Cream. Eggs.

[He's familiar with the process, if only because cakes were a popular form of selling refined illicit substances in Mega-City One.]

Equipment. Whisk. Spatula. Mixing bowl. Oven.

[Miller waits for more, but Kraken seems to have run out of words for him. Kraken brutally suppresses the pang of nervousness that jolts up his throat, swallowing it down. I'm sorry, he can feel the words wanting to come up. I don't know what you want from me.]

CLOSE YOUR EYES AND BREATHE
For the second: write 200 min to 600 max, of your character encountering their worst fear. Should be mostly introspective based.

[Countless nights spent sleepless, drifting off in fits and starts like his hands. His head's a mess, and he knows it - programming and counter-programming clashing against each other, spiraling into fractured memories and beliefs. His nebulous construction of self collapsing under the forced facade, being somebody he was not. Dreams of blood and fire, of black blood and corpses on corpses on corpses, of flesh giving way under his hand, rotten teeth and a blackened, withered skull leering at him from behind iron bars. How cute, it says. Dredd - yet not Dredd. The greatest honor, the highest accolade...! You shall join us, help us carry out judgement on this city! You too shall become a dark judge!]

[He's not in control of himself. He's watching, frozen behind his eyes as his limbs move for him and his mouth shapes itself into wicked words. His stump still aches, the fire of the explosion that took his hand still inflames every fresh nerve that lets him walk without dying.]

[Dying is easy. Dying is good. He's a puppet again, dancing to the whims of another. The Judda, the Justice Department, the Dark Judges... He's never had the capability to choose what he's wanted. He doesn't know if he's ever deserved it. He wraps his hand around a sinner's throat. Only the living commit sin. And when the crime is life, the sentence is death.]

[Nobody can stop him. There's no Dredd - the figure that he was always meant to live up to, to become - to shoot him through the heart in a display of mercy now. The ice-cold claws around his heart tighten. He can't tell if it's his breath that's been shortened, or whether his heart is seizing. Beating like a frightened rabbits, thumping against the inside of his chest like it wants to be let out. "Well good luck," he finds himself thinking wryly. He doesn't want to be himself either.

He never found out what happened to Odell. He was... fond of him. Compassionate, paternal, stubborn. Almost... almost like a father, or what he imagined one would be like. He'd believed in Kraken. Didn't hesitate to put his life and career on the line for him. Pulled that stunt with the lethal injection, and the moment when he'd realised he'd passed the test was one of the proudest. Now he sees him in front of him, looking at him with betrayal in his eyes, underneath his hand. The shame overcomes him for a second, down to the pit of his stomach. But despite this, his hands tighten. A quiver that lasts an eternity, and then a snap. Kraken discards the body, and hunts for the living.]

⩕MOD RECORDS

Do you wish your character to participate in body horror elements of the game? Yes
Do you want your character’s worse fear to be incorporated into an event? Yes
Any notes/requests/comments: