Stone, Samuel

[psychosam]

MASTERMIND IF YOU EVER READ THIS COME BACK TO US. LOVE, STE


SAMUEL, STONE
PLAYED BY :Michael Fassbender

THE CHARACTER

FULL NAME: Samuel Elliot Stone
NICK NAMES: Sam, Psycho Sam (a name he acquired from his most recent place of residence.)
PREFERRED NAME: Sam
AGE: 30
GENDER: Male
OCCUPATION: Mechanic

HOME REGION: Southwest
PREFERRED WEAPONS: Anything he can get his hands on really. While far from a professional, Sam does know how to shoot a gun. If he had to pick though, he would prefer any kind of fire-arm, though the smaller and lighter it is the better obviously. In other words, he likes light, fast, and something that can kill any freak a long ways away.

Currently he is carrying a CZ-75b 9MM pistol with a ten bullet magazine. He has four extra magazines for the pistol.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

Standing around six feet and two inches, and weighing roughly one-hundred and eighty-five pounds, Sam may not be the biggest man alive but is a holds a definite presence wherever he's at. Though his ability to draw attention to himself isn't just from his size, after all, there are many people much larger than him. With a combination of dark brown hair, appearing almost solid black when wet, and vibrantly blue eyes it is definitely something that is unique, but still not the reason why he has a unique attention grabbing presence. Some might say it's his body, with it's decent muscular tone, obviously from a hard and physical life-style and not from actually working out. On top of that, he has multiple scars all across his knuckles and forearms, hard and calloused hands, and a few tattoo's here and there.

One tattoo of a yellow, circular smiley face with a bloody hole in the middle of its forehead on his right bicep, on his left fore arm is a dragon that wraps around his forearm from just above his elbow all the way down to his wrist, with the head of the dragon resting on his left wrist, and lastly there is a tattoo of a skull and crossbones wearing a jester's hat in front of a pair of aces; the tattoo is surrounded by a red banner that wraps around his wrist and above the tattoo is the word "Jokers" and below it is the word "Wild". Sure, these features are definitely something that draw your attention but that is not exactly the reason why people tend to notice him first either.

The way he talks, which ranges from highly eloquent to quite crude depending on his mood, helps but the real reason he grabs peoples attention is from the way he stands. More specifically, the way he 'looks' so to speak. Combined in the way he holds himself, as well as in his eyes, there is a sort of fire raging within, a contained violence if you well. The man has been described as 'crazy' and 'dangerous', the kind of person that wouldn't hesitate to do anything on a whim, even kill. It is a description that fits him well, and most people say that about him after just the first glance.

PERSONALITY:

Giving a description of the man known as Samuel Stone is very similar to squeezing water from a bear. They're similar in that they both require you to get close to something that may randomly bite your head off and while it is possible to accomplish both tasks, you will likely walk away from both of them injured, humiliated, angered, frustrated or all of the above. It's inadvisable to do either one, but if you insist, an attempt at delving into the mind of the one and only Samuel Stone will be done.

Once upon a time, Sam was actually a very good man. He was honest, hard-working, and playful. The man loved a good joke and laugh, and his dry sense of humor and wit was legendary among his friends. All in all, he was your average, fun-loving guy. It's hard to say what caused the man to change, what caused the eventual snap, whether it was the loss of his child, ex-wife cheating on him, drugs, or alcohol is hard to say. Regardless, it should be clarified that the man you see today isn't the Sam from ten years ago, or even five years ago. That disclaimer being said, the old Sam is one you are never going to meet, or see again, so like everything else historic, it will stay buried. Now on to the current Sam Stone, the one you will be meeting.

Crazy, violent, adrenaline seeking, they're all words that could be used to describe the man today. A shell of his former self, the man has a passion for building fire-breathing, fuel burning, speed machines and he lives his life the same way. Sam has gained a nihilistic view on life, deciding that there's no point to any of it; life, death, none of it really matters so long as you have a hell of a good time on the way. Something Sam would do in much of his pastime was race in various types of local destruction derbies, the chaos of the field felt like home to him and over time, he wanted that chaos in his life as well. Drugs, speed, fighting, they were all just part of his chaotic world. Not to mention his dry and witty humor took a darker turn as well, with there literally being no boundaries on what was funny to him, so soon EVERYTHING became funny for him. Strangely enough, one of the few things he kept from his old life was his love for literature. Sam had always enjoyed a good thought provoking book in his old life, and despite his fast-paced lifestyle, he still loved sitting down to a good long book.

If you were to ask Sam, the life-style change was the best thing that ever happened to him and funny enough, when the whole world turned to hell and people were screaming and crying out of fear, it was Sam's lifestyle change that helped keep him calm when it happened. In fact, he is likely one of the few people that actually is enjoying the world becoming what it is now, after all, no rules means more chaos, more risk of death means more adrenaline rushes, more chaos and adrenaline means more fun. So with that mindset, Samuel Stone took his first steps into the new world, HIS world.

LIKES

• Fast cars (Who doesn't love a screaming machine that loves to burn rubber?)
  
• Fast women (... Who doesn't love a screaming machine that loves to burn rubber?)
  
• Creating things (Cars mostly, though he has always had a knack for engineering anything that came to his mind that could be made with a little elbow-grease.)
  
• A good thought provoking book (Everybody has to have some sort of down time after all.)
  
• Alcohol (or anything else that will take the edge off the day really.)
  
• Shooting things (The man loved to hit the shooting range before the outbreak, when the outbreak happened it just turned the whole world into a shooting range.)
  
• Zombies (They're walking roadkill that just wants to give you a hug, what's not to love?)
  
• Music (Duh, though he largely prefers old school rock and roll and a bit of metal every now and then.)
  

DISLIKES

• People without a sense of humor (more specifically, people who don't like HIS sense of humor.)
  
• Non-Alcoholic beverages (Water may be necessary, but vodka is better and it looks like water too!)
  
• Being forced to sit still for long periods of time (Having to sit without even something to read is a personal form of hell for him.)
  
• People who are downers (And with a zombie apocalypse, there are a lot of downers out there now. Suck it up and move on, that's his motto.)
  
• People in general (from Sam's experience, the human kind is a loathsome group of degenerates, the apocalypse was the best thing that ever happened in his opinion. He'd take a machine of grease and metal over blood and bones any day.)
  
• 'New' music (Namely Rap, 'new' country, and much of the new 'rock'. Basically the 'new' stuff sucks, in his opinion.)
  

HISTORY BEFORE:

Surprisingly enough, Samuel Stone had a very normal childhood growing up in upstate New York. While he was an only child, his parents loved him very much. In fact, it could easily be said that the boy was spoiled growing up. Has father and mother were a building designer and a college math professor respectively. On top of that, his father, William Stone, had gotten quite the reputation as being a budding inventor of sorts. During Sam's childhood years, the Stone household was quite often filled with discussions of logic, mathematics, culture, and even the occasional topic of psychology would spring up.

Their home was a home of nerds, so to speak. They were a very wealthy family, both in love and in money, and Sam's father would often use most of his extra money to buy and restore classic muscle cars. It was a passion that was quickly passed on to young Sam as he and his father could be found together in the garage every evening since the time Sam was able to walk on his own. It also helped that Sam was home-schooled by a set of private tutors hired by his mother and father, their reason being that as soon as Sam started school he was already several grades ahead of everyone else his age. So not wanting to hold him back, his parents simply encouraged him forward. Sam loved it because it meant more time at home working on cars with his dad.

Most of Sam's childhood was completely normal, or at least it was up until around his sixteenth birthday. He was on the fast track for college, ready to graduate two years before anyone else his age. Already he had offers from several top colleges, though as he wanted to eventually become an engineer, the full-ride offers from MIT were most interesting to him. Life has a funny way of turning everything upside down, however, and so it did with the young up-and-coming Samuel Stone.

One night his father and mother had gone out for an evening alone together, leaving Sam at home, but it wasn't the first time. What was strange though was that they never came home that night, or the next day. Just as Sam was starting to panic, a knock came at the door and a pair of policemen outside his house told him that he needed to come with him. Soon he learned that the night before, as they were coming home, his mother and father had been held up by a gang. They shot his father and mother and stole everything they had. His mother was completely dead by the time the police arrived, but his father was still alive, if only just.

What Sam didn't know until this point was that the Stone family had a history of mental instabilities. His great-grandfather was serial killer, his grandfather went senile in old age and was forced into a mental institution after attacking and nearly killing several doctors and nurses during a hospital visit. Up until now, his father was the only one in a long line of Stones to show absolutely no problems, until then. After he was released from the hospital, his father took to drinking hard and became increasingly violent. The man quit his job, sold most of their possessions, and began buying various forms of weapons and spent most of his time from there on out at a shooting range every day. Sam, with almost no money to his name due to his fathers new habits, was forced to abandon his college dreams and immediately go to work, working at a local mechanic shop, in order to try and help his father.

What happened a few years later shocked everyone in their community, except for Sam. Some time after his eighteenth birthday, he came home after a long day of work, only to find the house empty. A few hours later there came a knock at the door and a familiar pair of policemen outside. It seemed as though in a drunken rage, his father had gone out in the night and killed eight people before putting a bullet in his own head. Sadly, after two long years of abuse, Sam couldn't help but think it was about time. Coincidentally, all the people he killed were known gang members.

Regardless of WHY his father did that, Sam took what money he had and disappeared from New York. No one knows what happened to him, or where he went. Rumors spread that he had moved down South, Texas somewhere, gotten married, and had a kid. As it goes to show, sometimes rumors are correct. Nearly ten years after he left New York state, a man named Samuel Stone was making waves in Southern Texas in the derby circuits. Though, he had no child, and was apparently divorced. He was known for creating his own cars from the ground up, in fact there were several vehicle magazines that had written a couple articles about his designs. Though, that wasn't exactly the reason why he was beginning to be famous. The reason he was becoming famous was because of the absolute recklessness of his driving. In fact, he had gone to prison numerous times for intentionally hurting other drivers in the derbies he raced in. Though it all just seemed to make his popularity grow.

Once again Sam seemed to be on the fast track to success with a growing fan-base and bank account. Though, whether it was fate, bad luck, or simply family tradition, Sam made a mistake that would forever ruin his career. One night, in the middle of summer, Sam fired up his favorite derby car and took her for a spin. Unfortunately, this spin involved him driving his car straight into a mans house, and killing the man within. When the police finally caught Sam after a daring high-speed chase, they found that his blood-alcohol level was several times over the legal limit and there were several different types of illegal narcotics in his possession. The arrested him and just before his trial, police found out that the man he killed was the same man his Ex-Wife was living with. Evidence stacked up quickly against Samuel Stone and when the trial was over, among his numerous charges was Vehicular Manslaughter, the penalty was death.

Sam was supposed to face around five years in prison for processing, before his sentence would be carried out. During this time in prison Sam was known to get in fights quite frequently with other prisoners. Some time after his first year in prison, he actually killed another inmate with a shank he had fashioned out of a bar of soap. He stabbed his fellow convict a staggering thirty-six times before the guards came in. When questioned why he attacked, Sam simply said the man annoyed him. From that point on the prisoners, and even quite a few of the guards, began referring to him as 'Psycho Sam'. The name stuck, and Sam was stuck in solitary confinement for the duration of his stay, which was shortened to only one more year due to his behavior.

DURING APOCALYPSE:

The day of the outbreak was like any other in cell block B. Wake up at six, work out, breakfast served, work out, count the tiles on floor, work out again, lunch served, and work out. Monotonous, sure, but that was exactly how every day was in solitary. At least, it was normal until a commotion could be heard outside of Sam's cell. From what he could tell, cops were being deployed like there was a war going on outside; even several of the guards were being called out. It was a curious enough event to get Sam off his bed and staring out the small barred window on his door.

Though he couldn't see anything, there was a strange feeling that he couldn't shake, as much as he tried something felt wrong. Though he did try to shake it, laying down for a short nap and trying to ignore everything going on, blowing it off as the caps just being idiots. A few hours later, Sam was woken up by the sound of blood curdling screams resounding through the prison. He ran to his door, peering out the window there was nothing to be seen but more screams began to echo throughout the prison.

In moments the screams grew louder and the very walls of the prison felt like they were vibrating with the rioting prisoners within. Guards ran by his cell, weapons drawn and disappeared out of view. Seconds later there was a barrage of shots fired, not only from the guards who ran by, but throughout the prison itself. The chaos lasted throughout the night, most of it out of Sam's view, but the metallic smell of blood filled the air regardless. As the night wore on, the sounds of gunfire were few and far between. All gunfire had ceased by the time the sun began to come up, and just as the first light of morning broke the horizon, a single gunshot rang out through the halls.

The next day was silent, no guards, no prisoners, and more importantly, no food. No one came with his daily meal, no one. The silence almost felt heavy. The day passed slower than any other in Sam's life, but that night was when things got really interesting. Sam awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of movement outside his cell, making his way to the door he could see a guard standing just outside with his head against the wall. Sam shouted out the guard, cursing him for not bringing him food. Slowly, the officer turned around, revealing misty white eyes, a blood spattered face, and half his face was blown off. It was a shocker to say the least.

The freak let out a loud moan and charged Sam's cell, clawing at the metal door. He continually clawed at the door throughout the night, and the next day... and the next... and the next... and the next. Sam had spent nearly eleven days inside his prison cell. He drank out of the toilet for water, and managed to catch a couple rats scurrying through his cell for food. It wasn't pretty, but it was sure as hell ironic. Stuck in solitary confinement, he had obviously been saved by whatever killed everyone else in the prison. The irony was that his safe haven was going to be his tomb as well, a slow and painful death. He spent many nights laughing at his situation, and cursing the damned guard at his door who wouldn't let him sleep.

Dejected, and ready to die at any point, fate smiled on Sam. On the twelfth day, the power to the prison shut off. Immediately the flood lights came on, but no one was there to turn on the back up generator, and as such, the electric powered locks on his door were loosened. It took Sam several hours to pry open the door, and just as he busted it open, the power came back on... and the undead guard charged into Sam's cell. Fortunately, he had planned on that and it would be a lie to say he didn't get an immense amount of pleasure from slamming the broken bed rail pipe he used to pry open the door, deep into the guards eye.

Quickly, Sam took the gun from the guards waist, as well as all his spare ammunition and made a run for it. The prison was absolutely full of more of those freaks, and quite a few of them, both guard and prisoner, chased after Sam as he made his way through the prison and into the prison garage. He broke into a S.W.A.T. truck and hot-wired the rig just as an entire mob of creatures broke through the doors into the garage. Firing up the big rig, Sam put her into gear and couldn't help by laugh hysterically at the irony of it all as he mowed down at least twenty of the monsters on his way out into the streets. He had been put on death row for vehicular manslaughter, and now vehicular manslaughter was saving his life. Life was funny like that sometimes...

ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

This is from a Fallout Rp was on for a bit.

The flashing lights of the New Vegas strip pierced through the night air like a deathclaw's claw through a molerat for miles around. Where the general rule in the wasteland was that the less attention you drew to yourself, the longer you lived; New Vegas shattered all those rules, among many others. A soft breeze rolled through the air, surprisingly cool for a Mojave night, and brought with it the smell of decay, despair, and depression. Then again, this was Freeside we were talking about here.

While most of the light came from the Strip, the few houses lit up around the ghetto were barely enough to light up the road. Everything else was covered with black shadows that danced to and fro with the lights and sounds of New Vegas. Life among the decaying rubble that was Freeside was surprisingly small tonight, only a few drunks, hookers, and a King or two were walking the streets. Most of the drunks and hookers were right outside the local casino known as the 'Atomic Wrangler', making the casino look like some sort of perverted star in the darkness, with filth and immorality being the planets around it's gravitational pull.

Broken laughter and quiet talking rumbled through the air around the casino, largely being drowned out by the riotous noise inside. Suddenly, the quiet night air was violently disturbed as the door to the Wrangler burst open and a man was roughly thrown into the street and onto his face. Many of the hookers and bums cleared away from the scene likes rats being scared off by mice as several armed men and a tall, finely dressed, woman stepped out of the building and surrounded the drunk.

"You haven't been able to pay your tab for the fifth week in a row, Red, and my charitable nature is beginning wear thin." The stern voice that escaped from the woman's lips sounded like it would be far more appropriate coming from the beak of a crow. As the woman spoke she folded her arms and cocked her hip out a little, staring down at the pile of drunk beneath her feet.

Some staggered laughter, slow and very pronounced, came from under the heap of clothes as it slowly began to move, "You're... Sharitable nature... ish abouts ash realistic... ash a virgin hookers..." The drunk's speech was slurred and broken, but very loud, echoing down the empty street as he very slowly pulled himself to his feet. Once on his feet, the man hunched over slightly, trying to keep his center of balance, though was still swaying as if the street under him was moving back and forth.

Without missing a beat the woman cawed out, "Regardless, you worthless drunk, I'm not serving you another drop until you pay off your bill. All eight-hundred caps worth, right here, right now. If you don't, I'm afraid I'll have to have my men here carve it out of your alcohol permeated hide." The woman had obviously dealt with drunks quite often and despite being a bar owner, she seemed to be quite harsh to a man that simply loved his drink a little too much. It was a bit harsh if you asked Red...

Staggering backward for a moment, Red reached down and grabbed a pistol, pulling it out with a speed that no drunk should be able to do. Following suit, the men around the woman quickly raised their guns at him. Trying his best to keep his feet under him, Red attempted to point the gun at the woman but she kept moving back and forth... Actually, maybe it was his feet that were moving back and forth... Regardless, it was hard to get a bead on that breasted snake.

"Oh come off it, Red. You couldn't hit the broad side of a building in the state you're in." The woman scoffed loudly, placing her hands on her hips as the barrel of the gun desperately tried to find a mark on her.

Not able to find a good footing, but still able to find his wit, Red spoke up sharply, "Dependsh on da size o' the building... If itsh ash big ash yer a... ash... arse... I might have... a fair shot." There was silence following the drunks words, and just as he opened his mouth to laugh the woman filled it with her fist. Red staggered backwards, tripping on a rock and falling with a limp thud to the street, his gun sliding a ways away from him.

The men lowered the guns, as the all stared at the sleeping drunk. Slowly the woman raised her hand and rubbed her knuckles where she had hit the man's jaw, "Take his guns as payment and get rid of him, but don't kill him. Just make sure I never see this piece of trash around Freeside again." With that last caw, the woman retreated back into the bright lights and noise of the casino as the armed men circled around the limp body of the drunk like buzzards.

PLANS: The worlds gone to hell, law and order has been thrown out the window and there is no one to tell Sam what to do anymore. What do you think his plans are? Have a hell of a good time, that's what!

ANYTHING ELSE?:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

GO BY: Mastermind
ROLEPLAY LEVEL: Level Awesome!! Or perhaps Intermediate-Advanced.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: The space time continuum, otherwise known as "Proboards support"
PASSWORD:*****
TIME ZONE: Central

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[Max Guevara]

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