Playby: Iyanden from Iyanden's DeviantArt Gallery.
IndividualCharacter's full name: Maxine Annabelle Ralls
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Office Max
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Birthday: October 30, 1989
Nationality/ Ethnicity: Irish/German American
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: New York
Horoscopes: Scorpio, Snake, blood type O
AppearanceHair color and style: Carrot-top red and long; generally kept professionally tied back.
Eyes: Pale green.
Height: 5’6” + 3” heels = 5’9”
Build: Average. Not fat, and not a twig. Likes ice cream, but has to jog it off.
Visible mutation: None.
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: Pierced ears—wears small opal studs set in gold.
Other features: Light freckles speckled on her nose in winter; dark freckle forest covering her nose and cheeks in summer.
Everyday clothing style: Heeled sandals/boots, khaki pants, and either a tank top/cardigan combo (hoping for a date invite) or a gray NYU sweatshirt (has temporarily given up hope).
Uniform: Black skirt suit, black nylons, black heels, and a shirt in a primary color. That’s her work uniform. What, were you expecting spandex?
Sleepwear: Has been on a boxers-and-baggie-shirt kick since her last boyfriend broke up with her. Has nicer things, buried in a heap in the far depths of her closet.
Miscellaneous clothing: Generally has a ballpoint pen tucked above her left ear. Her purse is covered in a paperclip mesh, in a unique (and sentient) fashion statement.
CharacterPersonality: Maxine doesn’t see any problem with selling her soul to make it big. She’s more focused on creating a persona than questioning who and what she really is.
Hobbies/ Interests: Mutant politics. Studying newscasts from popular programs. Jogging at strange hours, so she can practice her powers at the same time in relative peace.
Job Description: Newscaster for Wolf News, an ethically questionable but highly popular nationwide news program with a distinct conservative bias. Though she’s the new girl on the team, she’s gaining popularity through a weekly five-minute opinion segment entitled “Equal in Stupidity.” Suffice it to say, she gets her hate mail from both ends of the genetic spectrum. The fact that she doesn’t hide her own genetics adds that extra special credibility to her words that the human faces on TV can’t match. Controversy: it’s what makes a girl make it big, at Wolf.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Dogs: keep them outside, thanks, and not licking her face or smelling under her skirt. Her own abilities: let’s not have them get any stronger, okay? Octosaurus Rex and boyfriends: she hears some women have this problem with their cats. At least a cat can warm your bed after it tosses the boyfriend out: a heap of possessive paperclips? Not so much. Also, is there a skin cream for freckles? Because there should be.
Special talents: Ridiculing everyone equally.
MoralityGood/ bad/ neutral/ other: Neutral-esk. Maxine finds violence against sentient creatures—like dogs, humans, mutants, and paperclips—appalling on a fundamental level. On the other hand, she’s a supporter of the death penalty, castration of convicted rapists, and mutant registration. Her ethics as a fledgling newscaster are highly questionable.
MutationsMutation Description: Office supply animator. Maxine can sense all supplies within a 20 foot radius; all supplies in that range stand a high chance of animating by her mere presence, whether or not she wants them to. She can consciously direct up to five pounds of these 'wild' supplies; those beyond that, or those she simply doesn't give orders to, will do as they please. Sometimes they do that, anyway, regardless of her orders. Animated supplies take on the personality of an animal, and these personalities aren't always cooperative, nor do they always have her best interests at heart.
With repeated or prolonged exposure to her powers, these wild supplies may 'domesticate.' This reinforces their individual personalities, raises their intelligence, and makes them distinctly harder for Maxine to boss around: they'll only obey orders if they want to. In the past she's begged, bribed, and threatened to get her way, and still ended up snubbed. Some supplies will take on an animal shape to match their personality.
Currently, her power only affects the following office supplies:
- Paperclips > Minnows and Octoclips. Wild paperclips behave like minnows, creating large glittering schools in the air. They're completely benign, and do no more than swim around people in passing. When domesticated, hundreds of clips link together to form an octopus-shaped mesh. A crafty and impertinent mesh... She generally carries magnets around, to keep Octosaurus Rex--her oldest animation--in line. Max speed for both minnows and octoclips is 15 mph.
- Ballpoint Pens > Song Pens. Wild ballpoint pens of any ink type behave something like canaries. They're curious, friendly, and fond of perching on people. They domesticate as single pens, with the intelligence and personality of a larger bird, such as a crow, parrot, or hawk. Max speed for both wild and domesticated pens is governed by Maxine's attribute profile; it's currently 75 mph.
- Unbound Paper > Paper Dogs. Unbound paper--paper for printers, resumes, loose leaf, shredded paper, etc--is out for blood. In small stacks, it simply lies in wait for unsuspecting fingers, lashing out for surprise cuts now and then. In large quantities, such as packs of printer paper, it has been observed to lurch or swirl, stalking Maxine in rudimentary hunting patterns. Paper domesticates as a single alpha dog: the alpha can control other paper as its pack members within Maxine’s animation range. In order to control the paper around her, Maxine must control the alpha. Maximum speed is 42 mph.
Strengths: Supply sensing and animation within 20 ft; wild supplies with weak personalities can be directed in a manner akin to telekinesis; domesticated supplies gain strong personalities and wills, and can act independently of Maxine.
Weaknesses: Domesticated supplies gain strong personalities and wills, and can act independently of Maxine. Trust her; that’s not always a good thing. Beyond her 20 ft range, wild supplies return to an unanimated state; domesticated supplies can stay alive away from her for up to 48 hours, but they won't hear her commands if they're out of range. Animation is not voluntary, nor can she turn it off, so it's always obvious that there’s a mutant around: flying pens are kind of a give away. She can control a maximum of five pounds of wild supplies and maintain ten domestications at any one time (domesticated supplies do not add to her wild supply weight limit, nor do they have a weight limit of their own). Domestication and supply directing put stress on her mind: headaches, dizziness, and fainting result if she overexerts herself. Despite their lack of sense organs, domesticated supplies seem to have the ability to sense their environment; on the flip side, they display an aversion to injury that seems to equate to pain. While she can sense where supplies are, she cannot see/hear/etc what they are doing when they are out of her actual sight; therefore, while she can give orders, it’s generally up to their own intellect to get around any unforeseen obstacles. All supplies are only as strong as what they're made of: paperclips are still paperclips, pens are still pens. The animation process does not reinforce them in any way.
Fighting StyleExplanation: Sits back and lets an over-protective octopus scare people off in a useful manner, for a change.
Pros for fighting style: Ever watched a mess of paperclips suck itself onto a grown man’s face?
Cons for fighting style: It’s hard to explain to the police who was mugging who.
Faction AllegianceNone.
History Of Your CharacterBeing the daughter of a notebook manipulator and the little sister of a penmancer, no one was particularly surprised when, at thirteen, Maxine’s abilities manifested. Her powers started with sensing paperclips, like something just out of sight; as the clarity of that ‘vision’ improved, she started being able to move them around, as well; or, rather, they started moving when she asked them to.
Maxine’s childhood wasn’t sheltered, but she didn’t experience the same degree of anti-mutant sentiment as some other mutant children. Long before her powers manifested, her mother had prudently enrolled her in a small charter school that focused on embracing diversity: at the same time she was getting her powers, so were other members of her class. Hers weren’t even the coolest, which meant she got to sulk on the swing sets at recess with the strictly human kids, scowling as the real mutants showed off. (You know what’s way more awesome than making paperclips swim across a desk? Turning into a huge black wolf. Stupid Billy Meyers.)
As her control improved, she got her little clip-minnows to take to the air for short times. (Still not as cool as turning into an ethereally beautiful water nymph during co-ed swim class. Stupid Tiffany Johnson.) Around that time, the headaches started. It looked like a simple case of poor control: whenever she started getting a headache, nearby paperclips would start moving. When headaches turned to fainting spells, as well, her parents and teachers decided to isolate her from clips except during supervised practice times. Maxine seethed under their understanding smiles. Determined to prove that she wasn’t the sort of kid who needed gloved hands and safety scissors, Maxine marched her allowance money to Office Max. There, she bought a standard box of 100 paperclips, which she promptly hid in the dark tangles of dirty clothes and forgotten toys under her bed to practice with on her own time. Her parents suspected as much—it was hard to hide the migraines and fainting spells when she entered her own room—but they couldn’t get her to admit to anything.
Then, one night, her headache stopped. She blearily tucked herself into bed, feeling drained, but better than she had in weeks. Ten minutes later, her scream woke everyone in the house.
It was the very first time she’d woken up to a paperclip octopus on her face.
When she was fifteen, she began sensing ball point pens, as well; her control over them developed more quickly, now that she knew what to expect. At seventeen, she started sensing unbound paper—and it started sensing her. The number of paper cuts she got began to soar. As the months went by, and it became clear she was being hunted by paper, she started trying to clamp down on the growth of her ability: the last thing to develop had always been ‘domestication’, and she did not want to see what paper’s idea of that was. She’s taken to dousing any unbound paper nearby with water whenever that tell-tale headache begins.
Currently, Maxine is going to New York State University part-time, pursuing her Bachelor’s degree in journalism. She scored an internship at Wolf News last year, and has been relentlessly pitching ideas as she brings coffee to the executives ever since. This paid off last month, with the piloting of a five-minute opinion segment, “Equal in Stupidity”, in which she rails on mutants and humans equally. Because, friends, we’ve still got idiocy in common. Ratings so far have been good.
RoleplayWhere did you learn about this site?: G to the oogle.
Do you have any other existing characters at MRO, if so who: Calley, Rupert, and Slate. Maxine is my fourth. (Because I’m crazy.) (Also, it’s a
girl!)
Sample RP:5:00 AM. Woke to octopus on my face. Got up. Brushed teeth. (Removed octopus first.)
5:05 AM. Pulled hideous, baggy gray sweatshirt over baggie pajama shirt. Octopus climbed into hood. Was unable to remove.
5:06 – 6:00 AM. Jogging and weight training. Central Park, in the wee hours of the morning: hobos rolled over in my wake, and other insane early morning fitness freaks ignored me. I ignored them, too. It’s what our kind does. Took a two pound school of paperclips with me today: was able to make them swim ahead of me for ten minutes before vision started to fade. Cut it back to a half pound after that, and kept jogging.
6:02 – 6:22 AM. Showered.
6:23 – 6:30 AM. Toweled octopus dry. Cooked toast, and curled up on coach. Rejoiced in my lack of man as I got crumbs all over myself. Who needs to feel pretty.
Regis and Kelly o’Clock. Studied fake smiles and ungodly early-in-the-day laughter for marketing secrets.
8:34 AM – 5:05 PM. Hitched subway to classes at NYU. Undergrad studies in Journalism. Octopus behaved himself on purse. Got headache when paper in the computer lab started siphoning my power. Was able to explain why I dumped my water bottle over it with three words: “I’m a mutant.” Was disturbed that the techies just accepted that. Guess you don’t argue with a crazy water-bottle wielding mutie. Printed report, got lunch. Classes, slept off headache in library study rooms, more classes, dinner.
5:06 – 9:34 PM: Subway to Wolf News headquarters. Slaved as patsy intern. Octopus behaved himself. Rushed to news room with three minutes to spare.
9:35 – 9:40 PM: Weekly opinion segment: “Equal in Stupidity”. Tonight’s topic: the police department’s deputization of vigilante mutants. When yours truly called to ask the fine NYPD whether the mutants in question had completed any sort of actual training to warrant their new status, the department declined comment. If you can’t beat ‘em, give them a free pass to enforce their own views of the law. Plus one, humans. Weekly tally rises to Humans 5, Mutants 4. Until next week, dear viewers, remember: our genetics might differ, but we’re all equal in stupidity. Oh, and to the two mutant kids who saved the day at the orphanage massacre—next time, try to look less like Ice Man and Child Porn Boy. And hey, how about you try catching the murderer next time. Make that Mutants 5. Goodnight, folks!
9:41 – 9:46 PM: Gathered with other interns around the computers. Hate mail received in first five minutes: 39. High-fives had by all, until senior staff shooed us off.
9:47 – 10:30 PM: More slaving. Subway home. Octopus either warded off a pickpocket or was seriously misbehaving himself: hard to tell. I got a whole row of seats to myself after that, though. Good boy, Rex.
10:31PM – 12:30 AM: Skimmed through recorded tapes of competitors’ news broadcasts from earlier this evening. Took notes. Ate ice cream. Placed bets with myself on when the blonde weather girl would get replaced—she’s clearly getting on towards her forties. Guys in this business get gray hair: girls get a severance package, unless they’re just that damn good. Weather girl isn’t. I’m going to be.
12:31-12:40 AM: Brushed teeth. Changed into slightly less hideous pajamas than last night.
12:41 – 4:59 AM: Slept.
5:00 AM: Woke to octopus on my face. Octopus still fails to grasp the concept of ‘Saturday.’ Either that, or he’s misbehaving himself. Hard. To. Tell.
