Any battles with Handy have been postponed until I bring him back. Sorry, folk. I need a break from the big guy to help get the ol' will to write back. He was a bit of a selfless character, focusing only on others' characters. I fancy a char of my own to work with. Spice things up to get the gears turning.
Name: Max Langford
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Appearance: Wears casual clothes, work clothes are a short-sleeved white shirt and dark grey trousers. Sneakers. Has long brown hair in a ponytail. Some facial hair, not a lot. Simple glasses. Thin but somewhat lean. 6’1”
Personality: Max is a man of simple tastes, as he is rather subdued and apathetic in his desires. He has the inkling of desire for more, but it isn’t large enough to inspire him to strive for it. Due to his ability, he is predisposed toward addiction, so he’s always strived for self-control as to not give into it. He’d rather do something by his own hand than risk catastrophe, even at the chance of extreme success.
Max grew up in England. Had a father and a sister. His mother divorced his father when he was only young, a natural separation with no overly sour feelings between the two. Custody was kept but, overall, Max grew up just fine. But when he was a kid, that was when his power was found.
He did not come from a family with powers, instead a stroke of dumb luck hit him.
In the world, there was this extremely powerful artefact. A coin. Nothing too interesting, easily hidden amidst the trillions of the world, and the chance that someone would flip it for a bet was practically zero… But whenever that happened, that coin would dictate reality. You bet something on heads, and you hit heads, that thing will happen. Tails, that thing will not happen. Of course, since nobody knew the coin’s power, they only ever bet on things that would be normal. Their favourite game team to win. That old lady to fall over. The waiter to come right out the door at that moment. But the coin’s power was true, regardless of size.
Thank your lucky stars nobody flipped it, looked up to the heavens and said ‘I bet heads the world will end today.’
And Max, as a dumb toddler, found that coin and ate it. The little idiot. The coin dissolved itself in his system, his body a new host for the powers within. Though, the ability never came through until puberty happened. And he can't affect anything else apart from his own actions, for now.
Max never had the desire to use the power for something large, but he felt like it was a burden on him. Something that made him different from the world around him, but he knew of a place where he could feel better. So, when he hit 19, he decided to apply for a place in Cloudfell city, a place where all sorts of empowered people- named Emps- could live alongside each other. To quote The Incredibles, “When everyone’s super, no one will be.”
The city has two halves. One, where people pursue their powers, and two, where people pursue their lives. Those who pursue their powers live in the more ecstatic city half, where fights and competitions are had. Max lived in the other, where he scored a single bedroom apartment and a library job a five minute walk away. And though his life is simple and as relaxed as he hoped… He couldn’t help but imagine, now and then, what it would be like in the other half. But he kept those dreams as dreams, until such a time may come where he is dragged out of civilian life. A kick start to something potentially extraordinary.
Max can perform any action normally, but if he wants to, he can roll a sort of mental dice to change how well he performs an action. When he rolls, he can mentally visualise the dice rolling. The twist is that the author rolls this dice IRL (or via this website) for Max’s rolls, no rerolls. This means that I and you, as the writers, have to put ourselves in Max’s shoes. Is the chance really worth it?
https://www.wizards.com/dnd/dice/dice.htm
A following, interesting effect of this ability is that Max’s power is, in effect, true randomness. Upon use of this power, he is completely removed from ‘fate’, that being the story the author has planned. Using Max’s dice means you would likely need to alter the story on the fly. Note: No matter how bad his roll, he won't die from it. Consider it self-preservation of the coin.
Twenty-sided die: Easy to understand. Numbers 2 through 10 are a failure, getting worse the lower they get. Numbers 11 through 19 are successes, the higher the better. A 10/11 is barely losing/winning the task, whereas a 2/19 is failing/succeeding as best as realistically possible. Upon a 1, a critical fail happens, or upon a 20, a critical success. These bend reality to achieve their effects. A note about this dice is, because of its nature, Max can reduce the chance of any success or failure to a pure 50/50. ‘Million-to-one chances’ are gone to him.
(LOCKED) Ten-sided die: Numbers 1-9 range from failing as hard as realistically possible, to succeeding moderately well. Equal to a 2-15 on the 1d20. There is no critical fail on this dice, but that is balanced by how a roll that lands on 1-7 is a failure. But, upon hitting a 10, one can reroll the dice and add onto that 10. If one does that and hits at least a 17, it’s like a critical success. Any further than that, and it gets crazy. Success is a slimmer chance here, but the success is potentially infinite.
(LOCKED) Coin: This coin is a 50/50 chance item. It has no memorable details aside from a head on one side and some sort of symbol on the other. This dice is somewhat similar to the 1d20. If Max chooses a side, and it lands on it, it’s a critical win. Else, it’s a critical fail. Extremely high risk.
It is unknown how these last two will be unlocked, or if any more will be discovered. (He knows nothing of these, it's just fair warning for potential future stories.)
He's also human.
Weaknesses: Being a civilian, he has never truly needed combat or to use his mind in situations of pressure. He is also subject to the weaknesses of the common citizen, as he would rather surrender than fight back when confronted, or would rather ignore something potentially bad and hope someone else does it. He is subdued and would fall in line.
His ability is also a double-edged sword. It can harm him equally as much as boon him. Due to that, it is perfectly balanced. It also means that there is the real possibility that, in my own story, he could lose. But then again, anyone can. It's a lot to juggle for him, the power of pure randomness.
Max woke up one fresh morning, though he felt groggy and horrible. He wanted to slap the alarm off but it was at the other side of the room, placed there so he had to get up to actually turn it off, thus improving his chances of the alarm actually working. He cursed his past self’s ingenuity.
He rolled that mental 1d20 for the act of waking up. He got a 6. The word that lingered in his head afterward was ‘Bollocks.’
His eyes remained crusty and his body remained sodden with the exhaustion of simply waking up. The alarm didn’t seem to halt so eventually he dragged himself to his feet and shuffled awkwardly to the alarm. It seemed to finish mere seconds before his hand hit it, and he groaned at the world’s hate for him.
Ugh, this day doesn’t seem so lucky so far.
-----
He hurried out his front door towards his library job. He held a bottle of water in his hand, though it was nearly empty. A bin came up and he aimed to throw the bottle at it. Figuring that he’d rolled already this morning, he’d give it another. Can’t hurt with things like this. He rolled that mental 1d20 and got a 2. It hit the rim of the bin, bounced back and hit his face. Sighing, he wiped a bit of water off his cheek and did the walk of shame to dump the bottle in the bin by hand.
----
“Hey, Pete.”
“Hey, Max.”
Pete was a curious chap. Max’s workmate down at the library in this section of the RHG city. His power had something to do with the fourth wall. Sometimes Max wondered if his did, too.
“Oh- Max!” Pete called over, grin on his face. His eyes were doing that thing again. “Hah, your demo’s being written.”
“D-demo? what?”
“Yeah, some guy’s writing your demo right now. Doesn’t look like a fully-fledged Gladiator demo though, so you’re safe from any future fights I’d think. I don't see any bad guy for you to fight.”
“What? Oh. Right. Phew. Thanks, Pete.”
“Don’t expect much, man. I’ve got jack shit written about me, other than my profile and some WIP thing that’s been long forgotten.”
“Right.” Now Max felt like he had to prove himself. He looked around. He saw a pot a few meters away. He had a pencil in his pocket. He took pencil in hand and prepared to throw.
Right. Let’s do this. 1d20. 4. Fuck.
The resulting throw made Peter thankful that he had glasses. Less thankful that he had a mug of coffee in his hand for the pencil to rbounce into.
“Aw- Max, man. Dude.”
“Sorry, Pete. bad roll.”
“S’alright, but you owe me a new coffee.”
