Kain
Lurker
The fans, there were only a few things he could stand less than the people that called themselves his fans. He hated what he had to do to satisfy those warped fans of his, and he hated the fact that he had to keep doing it in order to make money. No one these days could appreciate a good story if they bit them on the ass, no one could appreciate anything actually positive happening in a story, God forbid that the characters not constantly being chew toys for the universe. He started his now hit series Baroque World as an actual insult to those that were into that kind of thing, with those types often being the ones that end up being tormented the most in the series with it's main cast being going through what was like a perpetual revolving door as he killed them off regularly. Much to his disgust the series was a hit among those that he intended to ridicule with the over the top dark and angsty atmosphere of a universe that was literally out to torment the characters in it. What he intended to be his way of showing that stories like that werent worth the paper they were printed on and that his talents were better used on something that he actually wanted to write. He lost a little faith in people as a whole when he learned of how the series had taken off, and was flat out angry when he started to recieve fanmail all of which he refused to read let alone reply to. It was only natural that he ignore their requests to appear in public for autographs, and went to great lengths to make sure that those same fans had no clue what he looked like. Being recognized by those bastards was more than he cared to put up with.
Damian Wilde was a young man that hated the thing that brought him his success. The series he created was one that defined everything he would have hated in a comic, a work containing no hope, or even a sliver of optimism, and no heart or soul whatsoever from it's creation, containing one dimensional characters that were just mass produced shells that were all completely and totally unlikable as well as generic. As much as he hated it though he would be lying if he said he didnt need the money he was making off that abomination of a comic series though he was really wondering if being broke wouldnt be a whole lot worse. Broke doing something he loved, or being paid for making something he utterly detested. Every time he weighed the decision he alays found being able to eat would be something worth putting up with this stuff for a while until he could make a series that he actually considered worth the effort. He would just keep telling himself it was worth it.
as the moon light shined through the window, he found himself at home in his apartment like he normally did, it wasnt the greatest place ever but it was enough for him and sure while he could probably upgrade to something bigger he didnt really feel the need to. Besides the more he managed to save the sooner he could stop making this trash. Lately he hadnt really been wanting to work on the latest installment of the series, and while he had never really willingly worked on it, things where different this time. It was like he couldnt, it was like all of his mind's attentions had been focused on something else. A mental image that had been in his mind since the aquistion of a certain item. As his pencil continued to glide across the paper and leaving markings as he occasionally glanced at the object that had fastened itself to his wrist. Somehow it had sparked a new type of inspiration that he felt compelled to follow as he continued drawing on the paper. There was no other colors he needed all he needed was a piece of paper and the dark color of his pencil for this one. The mental image was practically carved into his mind. A figure in a white suit possesin several jagged lines, a metallic belt, a set of light chest armor and finally a helmet. That was the image that the device on his wrist that ingrained into his mind.
He still remembered when he obtained it, how beforehand he had seen someone use a similar device to transform into a form similar to what he was drawing. Maybe his transformed self would look similar? Unknown to him the device, the Dino Minder, did have a tendency to mentally influence it's wearer, perhaps the powers contained in it were reaching out to him unconciously. Judging by the pictures littered around his desk and all over the walls the device was itching to activate the moment it could. All he needed was a reason to use it, a threat to fight. Even in his bitterness he still had the presence of mind to know that a hero didnt just randomly change into their alter ego for no reason. For now that was the only thing keeping the world safe from the power that still laid dormant within the device.
((For now do whatever))
Damian Wilde was a young man that hated the thing that brought him his success. The series he created was one that defined everything he would have hated in a comic, a work containing no hope, or even a sliver of optimism, and no heart or soul whatsoever from it's creation, containing one dimensional characters that were just mass produced shells that were all completely and totally unlikable as well as generic. As much as he hated it though he would be lying if he said he didnt need the money he was making off that abomination of a comic series though he was really wondering if being broke wouldnt be a whole lot worse. Broke doing something he loved, or being paid for making something he utterly detested. Every time he weighed the decision he alays found being able to eat would be something worth putting up with this stuff for a while until he could make a series that he actually considered worth the effort. He would just keep telling himself it was worth it.
as the moon light shined through the window, he found himself at home in his apartment like he normally did, it wasnt the greatest place ever but it was enough for him and sure while he could probably upgrade to something bigger he didnt really feel the need to. Besides the more he managed to save the sooner he could stop making this trash. Lately he hadnt really been wanting to work on the latest installment of the series, and while he had never really willingly worked on it, things where different this time. It was like he couldnt, it was like all of his mind's attentions had been focused on something else. A mental image that had been in his mind since the aquistion of a certain item. As his pencil continued to glide across the paper and leaving markings as he occasionally glanced at the object that had fastened itself to his wrist. Somehow it had sparked a new type of inspiration that he felt compelled to follow as he continued drawing on the paper. There was no other colors he needed all he needed was a piece of paper and the dark color of his pencil for this one. The mental image was practically carved into his mind. A figure in a white suit possesin several jagged lines, a metallic belt, a set of light chest armor and finally a helmet. That was the image that the device on his wrist that ingrained into his mind.
He still remembered when he obtained it, how beforehand he had seen someone use a similar device to transform into a form similar to what he was drawing. Maybe his transformed self would look similar? Unknown to him the device, the Dino Minder, did have a tendency to mentally influence it's wearer, perhaps the powers contained in it were reaching out to him unconciously. Judging by the pictures littered around his desk and all over the walls the device was itching to activate the moment it could. All he needed was a reason to use it, a threat to fight. Even in his bitterness he still had the presence of mind to know that a hero didnt just randomly change into their alter ego for no reason. For now that was the only thing keeping the world safe from the power that still laid dormant within the device.
((For now do whatever))
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