App ✧ Smash Academy

Out-of-Character Information

Name: Kris
Are you over 15?: I wasn't 12 years ago.
Time Zone: UNITED STATES OF EASTERN STANDARD TIME
Personal Journal: mikenno
Reliable Method of Contact: Mikenno
Other characters in the game:
Sonic ✧ bluestreaker
Evve ✧ idowhatilike

In-Character Information

Name: Turret 01493642847 a.k.a. Vivian
Game/Series: Portal
Teacher/Student/Other: Other
Canon Point: Portal 2
Age: A day or so old?
Grade Level/Class Taught/Job: Hall Monitor / Occasional library help
Dorm or Living Arrangement: With GLaDOS (Jon agreed if mods allow)

Personality:
Turret is the epitome of eerie.

This girl isn't really much a girl at all. While her guise is that of a young woman, the mechanics behind her hollow smile are truly that: a machine's configuration to appease the society around her. Her smile is perpetual with little to no rhyme or reason to when she chooses to utilize it. The concept of emotions are something she is familiar with, but unlike certain cores in other turrets, there is little here to justify a phrase pronouncing difference.

Turret is a machine right to her humanized center, the new brain afflicting her wired with minimal difference in her functions. She was built to protect whatever she was placed with. Guard it. Guard people if necessary as well as keep them at bay with a healthy round of gunfire. She knows when to shoot, but it's possible this new human brain has informed her of properties she never knew she had. Unanticipated reactions are to be expected, making her emotions incredibly unstable once she discovers them at their advancing capacities.

Likely to come off as friendly via her youthful smile, she also tends to express many manners. She is polite for what she really is, and while as a machine her empathy and compassion had its restrictions, she's since been liberated of such restraints. Truthfully, it hasn't changed her much. She will perform as she believes she is expected to. It's all she knows. So please stand still so that she may dispense her product at you. You probably deserve it.

Turret has a 'passion' for - you guessed it - guns, and no matter the size or range, she will be excited as much as a machine can be. Ammunition is part of what she's programmed for, though someone should inform her she needs to eat real food now that she has a human body, not pellets. Pellets are for feeding other people and things. Sometimes in various locations on their bodies.

From here, she must learn how to adapt in her new form, though her default configuration may make this incredibly difficult.


Backstory:
Turret was assembled much like any other soldier. She one day felt her eye hum into existence, the sweet whispers of electrical connections telling her she need only do one thing with her granted life: shoot the intruder in sight. She was no one special. She was not corrupt, unique, or otherwise remarkable for what she was. She was one in hundreds, thousands even; just one sibling amidst her mother and father's sea of clones.

If there was such a thing to fodder like her. But this was irrelevant, enough to a point that Turret never truly thought about it. She had her worth laid out in her assignment. Do it correctly and she would continue to do so into the journey toward forever. Fail and she would likely be destroyed by her target, in which case would be her own fault. It was a simple and understandable concept, even for a child.

What she was unable to understand, however, was if that was all there was to her life, why oh why was she rejected? She was built to perfection, wasn't she? She was the right model, the right shape, the right coding... and yet, she was still chucked into chutes. Was the white of her own coat off? They hadn't even given her a chance! There were more coming in from behind her. Maybe the one back there was a little too fat for the cut.

The disposal line was going on forever, though. Into the burning bowels of Aperture. Oh no.

Then there came a light. Oh, she was finally here. Falling, falling, toward something she'd never seen before. It was browns and greens colliding and a glowing orb was far beneath where she was about to land -

And then came a crash. And she would find her shell casing vanished and the fleshy bits of the humans she was likely destined to pop a cap in were all she was made of.

How strange.

She knew how they worked. She staggered to her new legs, stumbling about for a moment before making her way toward the nearest building. Was this the outside of her house? Maybe she took a wrong turn to the incinerator.

Explorations took her to the underbelly of the school in preperations to burn, and it pleased her to know she had definitely returned home, for a familiar voice of their ever-so-loving overlord was waiting for her.

While GLaDOS knew her for what she was immediately, with the young girl hovering about and awaiting her orders, it was probably wise to issue her a title over the lengthy number she recognized herself as. It likely wouldn't fly at the school otherwise. With it, she would need something to guard.


Anything Else?:

✧ Although likely to be the worst hall monitor in the history of the academy, she will still follow orders as given to her. GLaDOS's orders will usually take precedence over anyone's.

✧ WHEATLEY. SHE SEES YOU IN THE LIBRARY, BRO. She's just interested enough in wandering in her new brain and body to go stare at him like a creep. Frequenting the library will likely get her put to work in it, if Vianca so chooses.

✧ She will likely hide guns all over campus. Hopefully none of the children or adults find one and shoot their own toes off.

In-Character 1st person sample:

[ When the video feed flickers to life, it's about what you'd expect. Some new person here at the academy is making it a point to stare into the depths of your soul before proper introductions are to be had. Because yes, staring. Yes, this is good. This is exactly what needed to be done.

You could opt to stare into an empty gaze and a simple smile, or perhaps just lean away from the screen once you notice the extra hole neatly hollowed out into her chest, a vertical array of stitches cutting right down the center of if from throat to breast. Embedded was what looked like a red orb of glass with a black knick at the center of it.

Now that a kind of figurative eye contact had been established, she parted her lips to speak.

Waaaait for it. They're opening. They're open. ... Okay, give her another second.

OKAY. She has this. ]

Hello, Academy.

I will guard your halls.

[ As if that wasn't odd enough, maybe the restrained giggle and rise of an automatic pistol into the camera's sights would do her justice. ]



In-Character 3rd person sample:

She wasn't very old, so truth be told, she was unsure if her true body could walk. It had a set of legs, but she supposed they were more like chair legs. Would anyone try to sit on her? That would be terrible and rude, but perhaps they would be comfortable.

Regardless, Turret's first steps were taken with human toes burrowing into the cool soil. The outside world was very... soft. That was the best word she had in her vocabulary for the time being. The weight inside of her reformed head was heavy and it was with fortune, she thought, that she could still feel her wires sparking inside of it.

Was this her malfunction? It must have been. She only had herself to blame, perhaps.

Well, she had not been disposed of, not exactly. She still had to carry about her business, even if it meant being different. The crossing wires behind her eyes - adorned by the Aperture logo floating in a thick, grey pool - made her forget what she was meant to guard.

She had to go home and ask, and the nearest building must logically be her home.