Post by Sam Tyler on Jun 10, 2007 12:14:39 GMT
Name- Sam Tyler
Age- 38
Gender- Male
Personality (including looks and a picture)- After a car accident in the 21st century, Sam finds himself woken up in 1973. His modern way of policing and strict by the book rules are un-heard of and sometimes un-used by the rest of CID, but Sam always tries to find the truth in all cases (even if it means clashing with others).
Dark short hair [completely unusual for that time period], often wearing a leather jacket, a huge collared shirt and flares:
History- A 21st century DCI who has a coma and travels 33 back in time.
RP Post Example (well.. just write as much as possible, no one liners, we've got to see how much you're actually going to write)-
A Storm was coming. A large one, he could tell. Sam Tyler lay in his flat, hot, sticky and staring at the test-card girl in his TV.
“Come on,” he said to her. “Come out, tell me some good news, some bad news, anything.” She didn’t move, but stared at him, transfixed with those huge eyes of hers. She sighed and lay horizontal on the floor, crying out in frustration and slamming his fists on the ground. No doctors, nurses, friends, family; nothing. Nothing for a whole week. It was as if his ‘deep state of coma’ was all that he would be staying in, forever. Staying inside was only going to make his frustration worse, so, buttoning his shirt up and combing his hair down with a hand, he stepped out into the corridor, leaving the television on just incase the girl with the clown wanted to inform him of anything.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone.”
Sam’s wonderments were proved right as fine spots of rain began to bounce of the rooves of houses and off his head. He stared up at the angry sky, continuing to walk until he stormed into a man wearing a tight suit and an annoyed expression. Both men were sent falling to the ground, groaning and apologetic; well, at least Sam was. He hopped to his feet and offered a hand to the other man. Instead of the help, the man jumped up and gave Sam an evil look before wandering off in the other direction, brushing dust off his jacket.
“I’ve got to get home,” Sam whispered to himself, powering back to his flat, cold, wet, and depressed.
Age- 38
Gender- Male
Personality (including looks and a picture)- After a car accident in the 21st century, Sam finds himself woken up in 1973. His modern way of policing and strict by the book rules are un-heard of and sometimes un-used by the rest of CID, but Sam always tries to find the truth in all cases (even if it means clashing with others).
Dark short hair [completely unusual for that time period], often wearing a leather jacket, a huge collared shirt and flares:
History- A 21st century DCI who has a coma and travels 33 back in time.
RP Post Example (well.. just write as much as possible, no one liners, we've got to see how much you're actually going to write)-
A Storm was coming. A large one, he could tell. Sam Tyler lay in his flat, hot, sticky and staring at the test-card girl in his TV.
“Come on,” he said to her. “Come out, tell me some good news, some bad news, anything.” She didn’t move, but stared at him, transfixed with those huge eyes of hers. She sighed and lay horizontal on the floor, crying out in frustration and slamming his fists on the ground. No doctors, nurses, friends, family; nothing. Nothing for a whole week. It was as if his ‘deep state of coma’ was all that he would be staying in, forever. Staying inside was only going to make his frustration worse, so, buttoning his shirt up and combing his hair down with a hand, he stepped out into the corridor, leaving the television on just incase the girl with the clown wanted to inform him of anything.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone.”
Sam’s wonderments were proved right as fine spots of rain began to bounce of the rooves of houses and off his head. He stared up at the angry sky, continuing to walk until he stormed into a man wearing a tight suit and an annoyed expression. Both men were sent falling to the ground, groaning and apologetic; well, at least Sam was. He hopped to his feet and offered a hand to the other man. Instead of the help, the man jumped up and gave Sam an evil look before wandering off in the other direction, brushing dust off his jacket.
“I’ve got to get home,” Sam whispered to himself, powering back to his flat, cold, wet, and depressed.