Justal

[Jng]

Name: Justal
Age: 11
Race: Human
Height: 4' 10''
Weight: 70 lbs
Physical Description: Justal is a wiry young boy with a mop of dirty blond hair that tends to cover his dull brown eyes. His facial features are unremarkable, simple, and rounded. Freckles can be seen on close inspection, but could be missed altogether at a glance. Everything about him seems small. His narrow shoulders are usually hunched forward, and he moves with his neck and head over the tips of his toes, looking at the ground ahead. His fingers are small and bony, great for cleaning the inside of an empty gnomish shell casings, except for his thumbs. He has brachydactyly thumbs, though they do not bother him and operate much like a normal thumb with the added benefit of being a comic conversation piece.

Possessions: He has never had psychokinetic control of the behavior of a living thing or natural object, nor has any being ever had this control over him. He does, however possess a precocious nature and finds great fun in purposefully mistaking terms in order to cause confusion. As far as physical objects, he has none. One single, increasingly dirty outfit would be the only exception.

Powers or Strengths:

Adaptability and Resilience: Justal has the unquantifiable ability to positively cope with stress and adversity. This includes positive outcomes regardless of high-risk status, competence under stress, recovery from trauma, and growing from challenges that will make future difficulties more tolerable.

Ineffable Charm: As an only child, most of Justal’s social interaction was with adults. He is quite comfortable speaking with adults and is perhaps more articulate than most children his age. To an adult he usually comes off as surprisingly perceptive and self-aware, although this is usually not the case. Inversely he is much less comfortable around his peers, to whom he may come off as a self-important know-it-all.

Weaknesses:

Size and Strength: Justal is smaller and physically weaker than many other children his age, though he can move quickly when unhindered.

Lack of Formal Operations: Not yet at a full level of cognition, he still requires concrete objects to make rational judgments. He is not capable of hypothetical or deductive reasoning. He also has a difficult time considering multiple perspectives.

Abandonment Issues: Not having any knowledge of what became of his parents, Justal is starting to display the symptoms of abandonment. A large feeling of guilt and the belief that he did something wrong to cause the situation comes with disturbed sleep and nightmares. An irrational mix of social withdrawal and clinginess colors his social behavior. Fear, depression, anger, grief, and fatigue form a cycle that can take hold of him for extended periods of time as he dwells on his loss.

Misplacement of Items: Often relying heavily on his mother to find his possessions left in random places around their property, Justal is horrible at keeping track of any material object. The importance or triviality of the object has no bearing on Justal’s ability to keep it. A large object might have a slightly greater chance of remaining with Justal, but even this difference would be somewhat negligible.


History: Justal knew love from before his birth. As the only son of a well-to-do farmer, his every need was provided for, both physical and emotional. His mother cared for him tenderly, yet did not pander to his every whim. As he grew he felt perfectly secure.

His first and fondest memories were exploring the outdoors. Able to crawl and walk in sunshine with what seemed to be endless territory in all directions, the expanse exhilarated him and exploration satisfied his insatiable curiosity. Each new rock, blade of grass, mound of dirt spoke of novel and endless possibilities. Every sense was filled to overflowing with new information to be enjoyed, digested, and stored for further use. Each birthday expanded the boundaries imposed on him by his mother, and that was celebration enough.

His first memory of rebellion towards these boundaries was at five, not because of conscience, but because of the result. It was a flash he saw in his peripheral vision and heard sharply as he scoured the edges of his domain. It might have been a small animal racing across the grass, or a leaf blown by the wind, or a bird racing to its next perch. Whatever it was, Justal had to follow it. Step by step he sought what he had barely sensed. He stepped into the tree line, the forbidden fruit of his explorations. Traveling straight, Justal extrapolated the path that he had seen and heard. Abruptly he stopped in response to the regal, mammoth form that leaned over him imposingly. He slowly looked up to take in the most horribly beautiful sight that he had ever examined in his over five full years of explorational existence.

The teeming, towering, truly triumphant trunk of the tree trumped any exploratory ambitions he had previously conceived. It had not yet occurred to him how much he had missed, limited to life on the ground. Every strong limb, with curved upward slant begged to support his weight. The fractals that compromised the whole shape and every small branch individually made Justal’s small head spin with delight. There was no tree like this in all the world...and his mother was screaming his name.

Faster than the flash that had sped by him, he started toward the house. Jumping over branches, ducking under tree limbs, his lungs ached by the time he emerged from the tree line. His father stood halfway between Justal and his home. His father rushed to him and as the blur of his features became clearer Justal saw his father white with panic, every facial feature wracked with tension. Before his father reached him, tears began to stream down Justal’s face, clouding his dull brown eyes. As his father hugged and sharply reprimanded him all he could softly manage was, “I met a tree.”

It was two years before he saw that tree again, patiently waiting for the boundary to expand. He knew that he never wanted to see the face of his father in that state ever again. Whatever punishment came from that day was long forgotten, but his father’s visage was etched forever in his memory. He promised himself that he would climb no tree, until he could climb the tree he had met. But when he met the tree again, he explored vertically with as much fervor as he had horizontally. The limbs were his teachers, the branches his peers. The leaves were his skin and when autumn emblazoned and shed them, the delicate fractals played with his thoughts. Simply, he knew the tree.

Four years later he had searched most every inch of the woods that bordered their land. Yet his manifest destiny was crowned with the tree. Yet as he grew, intellectual endeavors began to make up a small portion of the exploratory curiosity that had once been filled by the physical. Trying to taste and touch the inside of himself. Such thoughts he would have, but could not grasp. They vanished like vapor and begged to be followed like a flash in the forest. But what awful countenances might follow such a path?

Justal's 11th birthday would see the end of the life he knew. His father woke him in the middle of the night. A panic Justal had only seen once before was painted across his face. Quickly Justal was dressed and began traveling with his parents towards Marn. His questions were met with silence as the family made the trek through the night. His mother held his hand tightly as they crossed the bridge over the Ofriyu Mar, but did not speak a word. They reached the city at dawn, but stayed away from the main thoroughfares, choosing instead to keep to dark alleyways. After traveling this way through the city for what seemed like hours, his father stopped them and bid them rest in the shadow of a large building. Justal fell asleep as his mother whispered to him of safety and love.

Justal woke up to the violent shaking of a city guard. Terrified, he looked for his parents. Not able to see them, he explained that they would certainly be right back. They never came. He stayed there for three days, only leaving to find scraps of food and water. He can't wait anymore. Finding a way stay alive is all he can do now.

[Frug]

Yeah...

Okay it's not like it's badly written or breaks any specific aspects of the setting, and it's not as though we have any formal rules about length... But there's nothing here.

[Jng]

I totally agree. That is the point. How developed was your personal character (not in the RP sense) when you were 11? He hasn't experienced much, but he is extremely malleable. I would rather build an actual history RPing, letting the environment and others have a lasting effect on the character than play a character that doesn't change much, because they have 10-20 years of backstory. I have no need for Justal to become anything specific. I am willing to accept what happens to him and use it to build a deeper, more believable background than I could write on my own. His attitudes, beliefs, and physical growth are open pages to be written. Deciding your fate before you start by having a meticulously fleshed-out character is about maintaining control, not necessarily good story-telling.

P.S. I have written meticulously fleshed-out characters. I mean no disrespect. I'm just explaining my thought on the subject of having a young, undeveloped character.

[Niabi]

I see what you are saying but there is a big difference between a young, inexperienced character and a hastily made character. You have written next to nothing in several of the sections and this shows us that you aren't taking the time to create a complete character. In eleven years of his life there is only one day that is worth mentioning?

Just because your character is young does not mean that you can not put the same amount of depth into them that a character of over 100 years old has. Saying that there is nothing special or important about a young character is just a cop out.

I play a character much younger than this, 3 years old, and for what she lacked in changing moments to bring out into her history, I focuses on letting her personality shine through in other places. Instead of simply writing "She's 3 years old and doesn't own anything," I focused on what a typical 3 year old might consider a prized possession. Instead of just listing basic strengths and weaknesses, I dove into them. I expressed fears a young child may have, like being alone in the dark, being lost, and so on.

For us to consider approving this we need to see what appears to be a complete character, from what we see right now, it is not.

[Jng]

Still working.

[Frug]

Despite Niabi's excellent response I feel the need to add that what you did elsewhere, or if you have written meticulously detailed characters in other places, is irrelevant. All new players here start on the same footing, and your application is treated like any other new member's. As such there's a certain minimum of content and effort we require.

11 year olds (and even children younger than that) do have personalities. They can be surprisingly interesting. Not only are they not empty containers or "tabula rasas", but there are numerous factors that influence people for the rest of their lives which occur before that age.

I think writing a child presents a lot of challenges and opportunities for a writer, but not if you approach it from the perspective that an 11 year old's world can't be given in more than one paragraph.

Also your fake name with no vowels isn't working for you.

[Jng]

Comments, forms of inquiry, and uncalled-for jabs requested.

Also feel free to change my User Name to Justal. It was an oversight on my part. Apologies.

[Niabi]

Approved.