Post by Ginger on May 3, 2011 21:17:57 GMT -5
Original
Name: Ginger O'Riley
Age: 32
Species: Human/Cyborg
Planet of Origin: Rubicon II
Rubicon II isn't a proper planet at all. An artificial moon in orbit around the gas giant Rubicon, it was intended to serve as hometown for the miners. Y'see, Rubicon has a certain gas in it's atmosphere. No proper name, but for a while everyone thought it was going to be the next big fuel source. Some mining platforms where built, huge funding was poured in, major operation. Adventurous men and women flocked to Rubicon II, hoping to get on the ground floor of what promised to be one of the most profitable enterprises in th Empire, and for a while, it was. People were made millionaires over night, sure there would be rumors about faulty untested equipment, broken safety codes, accidents, deaths, and orphans left to roam the streets of Rubicon II, but really, who could those horror stories seriously? And besides, it was worth the risk. And so, people kept coming. For thirty years, they came. And then, it died. This new fuel that was powering the empire was finally thoroughly tested by an unbias party. It was found to be unstable and the entire operation crashed. Those who could afford to leave did, those who where left had to make due with what they had.
A decade later, Rubicon II is almost entirely abandoned. The only remaining residents are those who have no where to go, and no way to get there. The orphans are the most bountiful residents, some as young as ten, some as old as twenty. Aside from the kids, there are some older folk who came at the beginning expecting to get rich but never did. For a while, they led fairly good lives, but Rubicon II is starting to fail. Air conditioning was the first thing to go, the older residents know that they don't have long before the life support system gives out entirely, but they are keeping it quiet and are trying to call for help.
Occupation: A mechanic. She is fairly important, as she is responsible for keeping the air filters and other machinery of Rubicon II going.
Physical Description: Ginger a short woman, barely topping 5.2 feet. She has a well-toned build, pale white skin, and a sprinkling of dark freckles. Her dull, black hair is pretty frizzy when down, and she prefers to keep it in a braid. Her posture is terrible, and she often is leaning to the right.
Why she leans to the right is simple. Losing one of her arms fairly early on her life, she commonly wears a gray, bulky "working" arm. It kind of serves as swiss army knife sort of thing, holding a couple simple tools that at least saving that much room in her tool belt. Even though she doesn't wear it all the time, she is in the habit of compensating for its substantial weight.
Her wardrobe is quite sparse. She often wears a white tank-top and green cargo shorts, heavy on the pockets, and her tool belt. When she expects to be climbing through places where she could get caught, she trades for a tighter pair of blue shorts.
Personality: Ginger is what those who are being generous call strong-willed, and what those who are being honest call stubborn as a mule. Once she makes up her mind about something, there is no man, woman, child or variations of the above that can change it. She clings possessively to her opinions, and will react angrily if they are challenged. To make things worse, she considers any advice, any new method, any one who can do her job better then she can, a challenge.
Ginger is a proud woman, almost arrogant. If it weren't for her, Rubicon II would be a pile of space junk now. She's good at her job, and she knows it. The problem is, she needs to be perfect at her job. Every failure, no matter how small, is another blow to her surprisingly delicate ego. She doesn't sulk about them, but she does get discouraged until she gets the gumption to do better. Once she decides to do better, her stubbornness kicks in and she will push herself to ridiculous lengths until she feels she is back on top (this satisfaction seems to be more of the result an impulse then anything.).
She has a pretty short temper, but is fairly good at hiding it. She will get tense around people she doesn't like, but keeps it all under a tight smile and, if you're really lucky, some "playful" sarcastic jibes. If she is really ticked, she will need to excuse herself so she can go and let off some steam. (Preferably by hitting something and murmuring all too audible insults.) She only starts shouting in your face if you drive her to her limit. And at that point, she is beyond all reasoning. She does have a bit of a problem with her violent tendencies.
To sum it up, she has strong passions, she keeps them repressed, but when the dam breaks, she gives into them completely. If it is grief, she'll be inconsolable. If it is joy, she expresses in the clearest, loudest way possible. And, as stated, she is totally untouchable when she gives in to her anger.
She does have a softer side, something she most often shows to the children of Rubicon II (or her "strays" as she calls them.) With exceptions, kids like her. She mothers them shamelessly, while at the same time is willing to send a twelve year old up an old air vent on the argument "He has good sense.", as if that means that nothing can go wrong. If something does threaten her strays or "keepers", she will immediately stop talking and start bashing. Hard.
History: Ginger was born on Rubicon II, and has never left. Oh, her parents insisted that they took her to see her grandparents once, but she was much too young for it to count. She never really felt she was missing much, the moon was her home and it was very interesting for a curious child. She did get in a few scrapes, but she always got out of them mostly undamaged. Eventually, her curiosity caught the eye of the local maintenance man, known simply as Ben, and he sort of took her under his wing. He quickly became the most important adults in her life, easily overshadowing her poor, unhappy mother and her father who was constantly on the mining rig. And so, her younger years were spent happily exploring and learning how delicious the smell of oil and grease could be.
Turning sixteen was a big deal for her. Finally, she was able to apply for a job on the rig. She had learned enough about mechanics to qualify as sort of an apprentice, and though she wasn't paid, she found the work satisfying. She made a few attempts to learn more about her father, but it just wasn't possible. They worked on different sides of the rig. She was disappointed, as any young girl would, but quickly accepted it and committed herself to her learning the trade.
Four short years later and she was on the payroll. She was confident, cocky really, bright, and though her social life was nothing to speak of, she was happy. Then came the accident. To sum it up in her own words. "Mining rig engines have big gears. Do not wear long sleeves."
Recovery was torture. Not only was she in great pain, but the M.D was hardly efficient, she was confined to Rubicon II, and her mother, her sweet, distant, quiet, sad mother, was hysterical the whole time. She ranted and raved about how she knew they shouldn't have come, and how that horrible mining platform was going to be the death of all of them. Finally, she announced she was leaving. Her husband could stay behind if he wanted to, but she wasn't staying there a moment longer, and neither was Ginger. Well, this is where all heck broke loose.
Ginger threw the biggest fit of her life. Even her teenage sulks had nothing on this one. She screamed at the top of her lungs that she was an adult and there was no way she leaving her home. Her mother would scream back that she was injured, delirious, and didn't know what she was talking about. The two of them had their first real talk in years, and the whole time they were at each others throats. Finally, her mother gave up and stormed out, leaving her family behind.
Ginger's life was never the same after that. She was unfit for work on the rig, and with her mother gone, a homemaker was needed. She quickly discovered that she knew nothing about this role. It was, to her surprise, her old friend Ben, who saved her. Living on his own, he had learned a few easy tricks to keep a home livable, if not exactly homey, and the cooking editable, if not exactly lavish. This basic, rough, but serviceable style of living appealed to her and she adopted his tactics as her own.
Another thing that dear, old, Ben did for her was make her an arm. The crude, clunky, contraption would make any professional doctor cringe, but to Ginger it was a heaven sent gift. He was going to make her a better one when he figured out how, but sadly suffered a lethal stroke before he could keep his promise.
Ginger had her second big emotional outburst in as many years when Ben died. She wouldn't speak or eat. She would drink if you brought the water to her, but other then that she was dead to the world. Her father took a few weeks off to try and comfort her, but he was practically a stranger to her and could do nothing. Eventually, Ginger began snapping out of it on her own, and one day, she gathered enough courage and heart to ask if she could have Ben's old job.
And so began the best years of her life. Despite the sadness she felt when she first moved into Ben's workshop, she quickly discovered how much the more the quiet work suited her then the bustle and hustle of the mining platform. The people grew use to her, some quickly, some grudgingly, and for the first time in her life she began making what you could call friends. Among the best of them where the local orphans. They would come to the back of her shop, and she would give them food, toys, and little devices made out of spare parts to make their lives easier.
The ring at the door was nothing new. Ginger had assumed it was one of her strays or perhaps that one young man who would have trouble with a basic air-conditioner. When she opened the door, however, it was none of the regular faces. It was her father. Anxiously he told her that he had heard, never mind where from, that Rubicon was going to be shut down. Anyone with any sense was getting out before the final bomb dropped, and that certainly included him. He was getting out on the next freighter and if Ginger knew what was good for her, she would be with him.
Ginger declined. Her argument being that she should be the last to leave. After all, the people who lagged behind would still need a mechanic (she dropped the term maintenance girl long ago), and she was the only qualified one willing to stay. Honestly though, she was simply afraid of change.
And so, she stayed on Rubicon II. Soon there where no more freighters, no more ships, anyone who hadn't gotten out where stuck there. She has made the most of it for ten years, finding her self sort of the middle-woman between the two generations on the moon. Despite her protests, she finally rewired the air conditioning system to give the communications system the power boost it needs to call for help
Additional medical information Aside from a huge metal arm throwing her entire spine off, she does have very weak lungs. Any type of strong fumes will cause a coughing fit, though she'll deny it is anything serious. She is also allergic to any perfume, perfumed soap, scented aftershave... even dried flower petals will cause a sneezing fit.
Name: Ginger O'Riley
Age: 32
Species: Human/Cyborg
Planet of Origin: Rubicon II
Rubicon II isn't a proper planet at all. An artificial moon in orbit around the gas giant Rubicon, it was intended to serve as hometown for the miners. Y'see, Rubicon has a certain gas in it's atmosphere. No proper name, but for a while everyone thought it was going to be the next big fuel source. Some mining platforms where built, huge funding was poured in, major operation. Adventurous men and women flocked to Rubicon II, hoping to get on the ground floor of what promised to be one of the most profitable enterprises in th Empire, and for a while, it was. People were made millionaires over night, sure there would be rumors about faulty untested equipment, broken safety codes, accidents, deaths, and orphans left to roam the streets of Rubicon II, but really, who could those horror stories seriously? And besides, it was worth the risk. And so, people kept coming. For thirty years, they came. And then, it died. This new fuel that was powering the empire was finally thoroughly tested by an unbias party. It was found to be unstable and the entire operation crashed. Those who could afford to leave did, those who where left had to make due with what they had.
A decade later, Rubicon II is almost entirely abandoned. The only remaining residents are those who have no where to go, and no way to get there. The orphans are the most bountiful residents, some as young as ten, some as old as twenty. Aside from the kids, there are some older folk who came at the beginning expecting to get rich but never did. For a while, they led fairly good lives, but Rubicon II is starting to fail. Air conditioning was the first thing to go, the older residents know that they don't have long before the life support system gives out entirely, but they are keeping it quiet and are trying to call for help.
Occupation: A mechanic. She is fairly important, as she is responsible for keeping the air filters and other machinery of Rubicon II going.
Physical Description: Ginger a short woman, barely topping 5.2 feet. She has a well-toned build, pale white skin, and a sprinkling of dark freckles. Her dull, black hair is pretty frizzy when down, and she prefers to keep it in a braid. Her posture is terrible, and she often is leaning to the right.
Why she leans to the right is simple. Losing one of her arms fairly early on her life, she commonly wears a gray, bulky "working" arm. It kind of serves as swiss army knife sort of thing, holding a couple simple tools that at least saving that much room in her tool belt. Even though she doesn't wear it all the time, she is in the habit of compensating for its substantial weight.
Her wardrobe is quite sparse. She often wears a white tank-top and green cargo shorts, heavy on the pockets, and her tool belt. When she expects to be climbing through places where she could get caught, she trades for a tighter pair of blue shorts.
Personality: Ginger is what those who are being generous call strong-willed, and what those who are being honest call stubborn as a mule. Once she makes up her mind about something, there is no man, woman, child or variations of the above that can change it. She clings possessively to her opinions, and will react angrily if they are challenged. To make things worse, she considers any advice, any new method, any one who can do her job better then she can, a challenge.
Ginger is a proud woman, almost arrogant. If it weren't for her, Rubicon II would be a pile of space junk now. She's good at her job, and she knows it. The problem is, she needs to be perfect at her job. Every failure, no matter how small, is another blow to her surprisingly delicate ego. She doesn't sulk about them, but she does get discouraged until she gets the gumption to do better. Once she decides to do better, her stubbornness kicks in and she will push herself to ridiculous lengths until she feels she is back on top (this satisfaction seems to be more of the result an impulse then anything.).
She has a pretty short temper, but is fairly good at hiding it. She will get tense around people she doesn't like, but keeps it all under a tight smile and, if you're really lucky, some "playful" sarcastic jibes. If she is really ticked, she will need to excuse herself so she can go and let off some steam. (Preferably by hitting something and murmuring all too audible insults.) She only starts shouting in your face if you drive her to her limit. And at that point, she is beyond all reasoning. She does have a bit of a problem with her violent tendencies.
To sum it up, she has strong passions, she keeps them repressed, but when the dam breaks, she gives into them completely. If it is grief, she'll be inconsolable. If it is joy, she expresses in the clearest, loudest way possible. And, as stated, she is totally untouchable when she gives in to her anger.
She does have a softer side, something she most often shows to the children of Rubicon II (or her "strays" as she calls them.) With exceptions, kids like her. She mothers them shamelessly, while at the same time is willing to send a twelve year old up an old air vent on the argument "He has good sense.", as if that means that nothing can go wrong. If something does threaten her strays or "keepers", she will immediately stop talking and start bashing. Hard.
History: Ginger was born on Rubicon II, and has never left. Oh, her parents insisted that they took her to see her grandparents once, but she was much too young for it to count. She never really felt she was missing much, the moon was her home and it was very interesting for a curious child. She did get in a few scrapes, but she always got out of them mostly undamaged. Eventually, her curiosity caught the eye of the local maintenance man, known simply as Ben, and he sort of took her under his wing. He quickly became the most important adults in her life, easily overshadowing her poor, unhappy mother and her father who was constantly on the mining rig. And so, her younger years were spent happily exploring and learning how delicious the smell of oil and grease could be.
Turning sixteen was a big deal for her. Finally, she was able to apply for a job on the rig. She had learned enough about mechanics to qualify as sort of an apprentice, and though she wasn't paid, she found the work satisfying. She made a few attempts to learn more about her father, but it just wasn't possible. They worked on different sides of the rig. She was disappointed, as any young girl would, but quickly accepted it and committed herself to her learning the trade.
Four short years later and she was on the payroll. She was confident, cocky really, bright, and though her social life was nothing to speak of, she was happy. Then came the accident. To sum it up in her own words. "Mining rig engines have big gears. Do not wear long sleeves."
Recovery was torture. Not only was she in great pain, but the M.D was hardly efficient, she was confined to Rubicon II, and her mother, her sweet, distant, quiet, sad mother, was hysterical the whole time. She ranted and raved about how she knew they shouldn't have come, and how that horrible mining platform was going to be the death of all of them. Finally, she announced she was leaving. Her husband could stay behind if he wanted to, but she wasn't staying there a moment longer, and neither was Ginger. Well, this is where all heck broke loose.
Ginger threw the biggest fit of her life. Even her teenage sulks had nothing on this one. She screamed at the top of her lungs that she was an adult and there was no way she leaving her home. Her mother would scream back that she was injured, delirious, and didn't know what she was talking about. The two of them had their first real talk in years, and the whole time they were at each others throats. Finally, her mother gave up and stormed out, leaving her family behind.
Ginger's life was never the same after that. She was unfit for work on the rig, and with her mother gone, a homemaker was needed. She quickly discovered that she knew nothing about this role. It was, to her surprise, her old friend Ben, who saved her. Living on his own, he had learned a few easy tricks to keep a home livable, if not exactly homey, and the cooking editable, if not exactly lavish. This basic, rough, but serviceable style of living appealed to her and she adopted his tactics as her own.
Another thing that dear, old, Ben did for her was make her an arm. The crude, clunky, contraption would make any professional doctor cringe, but to Ginger it was a heaven sent gift. He was going to make her a better one when he figured out how, but sadly suffered a lethal stroke before he could keep his promise.
Ginger had her second big emotional outburst in as many years when Ben died. She wouldn't speak or eat. She would drink if you brought the water to her, but other then that she was dead to the world. Her father took a few weeks off to try and comfort her, but he was practically a stranger to her and could do nothing. Eventually, Ginger began snapping out of it on her own, and one day, she gathered enough courage and heart to ask if she could have Ben's old job.
And so began the best years of her life. Despite the sadness she felt when she first moved into Ben's workshop, she quickly discovered how much the more the quiet work suited her then the bustle and hustle of the mining platform. The people grew use to her, some quickly, some grudgingly, and for the first time in her life she began making what you could call friends. Among the best of them where the local orphans. They would come to the back of her shop, and she would give them food, toys, and little devices made out of spare parts to make their lives easier.
The ring at the door was nothing new. Ginger had assumed it was one of her strays or perhaps that one young man who would have trouble with a basic air-conditioner. When she opened the door, however, it was none of the regular faces. It was her father. Anxiously he told her that he had heard, never mind where from, that Rubicon was going to be shut down. Anyone with any sense was getting out before the final bomb dropped, and that certainly included him. He was getting out on the next freighter and if Ginger knew what was good for her, she would be with him.
Ginger declined. Her argument being that she should be the last to leave. After all, the people who lagged behind would still need a mechanic (she dropped the term maintenance girl long ago), and she was the only qualified one willing to stay. Honestly though, she was simply afraid of change.
And so, she stayed on Rubicon II. Soon there where no more freighters, no more ships, anyone who hadn't gotten out where stuck there. She has made the most of it for ten years, finding her self sort of the middle-woman between the two generations on the moon. Despite her protests, she finally rewired the air conditioning system to give the communications system the power boost it needs to call for help
Additional medical information Aside from a huge metal arm throwing her entire spine off, she does have very weak lungs. Any type of strong fumes will cause a coughing fit, though she'll deny it is anything serious. She is also allergic to any perfume, perfumed soap, scented aftershave... even dried flower petals will cause a sneezing fit.
