Post by Adam Komatsu on Jan 30, 2007 6:52:58 GMT
Komatsu, Adam
:Nationality: Japanese, American
:Birthplace: Tokyo, Japan
:Birthdate: 7th of Januray
:Age: 18
:Gender: Male
:Grade: Senior
:Orientation: Straight
:Clique: Crags
:Secret: Cries easily, but not in public.
:Insight: Has played guitar for 10 years, whereof seven of them as been spent playing el-guitar.
:Heading: Rebel without a cause
:Everyone knows: He's not in a band, but his guitar-play is kickass. Is handsome enough to make some girls turn when he passes. (Which means; hadn't he been as weird as he is, he might have gotten rather high up in the social ladder. With the right attitude of course)
:Phone Number: 862-6651 to his cell phone, 430-3997 for home.
:E-mail: jointhedarkside_and_getafreecookie@aim.com
:Shedule:
Period 1 ~ Creative Writing
Period 2 ~ Calculus Honors
Period 3 ~ British History
Period 4 ~ Music Theory
Period 5 ~ Lunch
Period 6 ~ Physics Honors
Period 7 ~ Gym III
Period 8 ~ Drawing and Painting IV
Period 9 ~ Spanish IV
:Hair: Dark brown, cut in a way so his bangs hangs over his left eye.
:Eyes Dark brown, shaped in such a manner you can clearly see he's from Asia.
:Height: 179 cm
:Bloodtype: AB
:Scars and/or Tattoos: Noe really visible, 'cept he has a scar running across his left calf, a scar he got in a biking accident. Also he has pierced ears
:Model: Hiroki Narimiya
:Personality: What is mostly known about Adam is that he is somewhat rude. Even if he was brought up in an upper-class family, he doesn't act it and seems not to care what happens to those around him. At least no the "Royals" of the school. He can be a bit simple-minded at times and gets worked up over the smallest of things.
It's easy to see that he doesn't care what other people think about him, and he means that others shouldn't care what he think about them either. Something which has gotten him into a few pinches with the Jocks, but nothing serious. As long as they don't bother him, why should he bother them?
Being one of the "crags", Adam is mostly always seen with his guitar-bag on his back and head-phones in his ears. He spends most of his free-time playing or listening to music and can't understand those who can't stand it. He openly mocks techno, country and pop-music and loaths those people who likes them. He's rather prejudiced towards most people and tends to be a bit short-sighted. Has a hot temper when provoked, one that has put him in detention more times than his parents likes.
Other than this, he is constantly (almost) hyper and happy and tends to laugh and smile a lot. Adam laughs easilly and tries to make the best out of everything, even if he might not manage due to his temper at times. He might look a bit... well, emo, but he's really not.
:Hobbies: Playing guitar, writing songs, drawing, zooming around, taking pictures, listening to music, reading, partying, talking to friends. (Used to do kendo as well, but quit when he left for the US)
:Likes:
§Music (which means rock and metal), bands like Led Zeppelin, Type O Negative, The Knacks ect.
§Cats
§Playing his guitar
§Drawing
§Photography
§Strange, a bit dark books
§Weird clothes
§Old movies
§Computers
§His guitar (Gibson, Black Beauty. Cost a fortune, but he bought it for his own money)
:Dislikes:
§Jocks
§Indifference
§Wannabe-musicians
§Talk-shows
§Being wrong
§People bad-mouthing his friends
§Being under-estimated
§Hospitals
:Family Members:
Mother -- Jenny Douglas (47)
Father -- Kyoya Komatsu (52)
Big brother -- Kaoru Douglas (24)
:Family & Personal History: Kyoya Komatsu met his wife on a business-trip to New York. He's the head of a company that owns a lot of hospitals in Japan, Jenny Douglas was a newly graduated doctor. A year after they met, they married, both moving to Japan, where Kyoya could easily manage his position of head of the Komatsu company as well as Jenny could work at one of his hospitals. After four years of marrige, they got the son Kaoru. He was suppose to be their only child, yet six years after Jenny got pregnant again and gave birth to Adam.
The year after, the whole Komatsu family moved to the US, where Kyoya bought and founded a few hospitals. Kaoru started school here, as well as Adam, since the family stayed there for about ten years. All the while Kyoya travelled between Tokyo and Los Angeles, to administrate the business. It was also in L.A that Adam got his first guitar and started playing. But the summer Kaoru turned 16, the family moved back to Tokyo, as they desired Kaoru to attend to a Japanese High School and University, as he would be the one to some day take over the Komatsu corporation.
Ever since they moved back, Adam started rebelling against his parents, both due to a growing jealousy towards his brother and the fact that, well, he started to realise what a messed up family and place he was growing up in. This realisation didn't take place until his last year of Junior High. Before that he had been an A-level student with perfect behaviour, perfect grades and a bright look on life, yet after his parents started to show Kaoru more and more attention, he eventually got sick of trying to please them. This was the base of many an argument until finally he got his parents to send him to high school in America. There he lives in his family holiday appartment, as they tend to stay in Japan mostly, these days.
Even if Adam stopped trying his best at school, he manages to get good grades and has even chosen a few classes he might even get an honour in. Yet this choice was not based on anything his parents might have said, only the knowledge that he could be able to do it. Simply to prove himself that he could manage on his own if he only wanted to.
At the moment he's not playing in a band, but is usually on the look-out for potential bands that might need a guitarist, as he's not really one to start out alone. Lacks confidence in himself and his own music. Adam has a very personalized style, at least compared to most. Wears mostly strange combinations of black of checkerd pants, fishnet-jumpers, band-t-shirt and strange jackets. Likes to paint his nails black and constantly wears a black choker with dull spikes.
:Sample RP:
From another board I RP at, where, of course, I play Zen:
"Oh, bugger off!" Zen grumbled before he picked up his guitar-case and walked out of the audition hall. As hell, he'd do this! What had he even been thinking? Going here like some hopefull little shithead of a kid? Pathetic, that's what it was! He was nothing but a piece of shit today for dragging his carcas down here. As if he needed a sodding audition to prove he was good! Keh! He'd show the bastards!
Yes, so, what really had happened that day was that Zen had heard talk about auditions for some sort of combayaya-singing whatever, so, he thought he'd go. Which he did. Packed his guitar, jumped on the subway and ended up waiting there among many others. True, he had stuck out, but not as much as he might have had some years earlier. Yet the reason why he ended up cussing as he rushed out was cause, well, those bastard had 1) tried to make him sing some corny pop-song. 2) wondered why in the world he wanted to sing, as this was for guitar-players only, and 3) cause he'd actually been wrong.
His brown hair was, for once, hanging neatly down, framing his narrow face, and he managed to not look as slutty as he normally did. Something which might come from the long, black trench-coat he wore that covered most of his tight, black leather pants and red shirt that he hadn't even bothered to button all the way up. Around his neck hung a rosary-looking neclace, yet it too was hidden beneath the somewhat tight coat. His nails were polished black, as usual and he seemed more like a walking storm-cloud than anything.
As the Japanese-looking man rushed down the steps to the filthy subway, Zen dug in his pocket and found a cigarette which he put inbetween his lips and a lighter which he flicked open and... one time, no fire, kept walking. Two times, no fire, bought a ticket. Three times, no fire, stopped on the platform. Four times, no fucking fire! And with that he simply spat the cigarette out of his mouth and stuffed the lighter back in his pocket, biting his lip so hard in anger that he managed to pierce his own lip with his sharp fangs. Great, just... great! As if that didn't help on his mood, now he felt he needed that too; blood! Great, just.. fucking...GREAT! Screw the world and everything in it! Would have been nice to just watch them all burn!
"Oh, bugger off!" Zen grumbled before he picked up his guitar-case and walked out of the audition hall. As hell, he'd do this! What had he even been thinking? Going here like some hopefull little shithead of a kid? Pathetic, that's what it was! He was nothing but a piece of shit today for dragging his carcas down here. As if he needed a sodding audition to prove he was good! Keh! He'd show the bastards!
Yes, so, what really had happened that day was that Zen had heard talk about auditions for some sort of combayaya-singing whatever, so, he thought he'd go. Which he did. Packed his guitar, jumped on the subway and ended up waiting there among many others. True, he had stuck out, but not as much as he might have had some years earlier. Yet the reason why he ended up cussing as he rushed out was cause, well, those bastard had 1) tried to make him sing some corny pop-song. 2) wondered why in the world he wanted to sing, as this was for guitar-players only, and 3) cause he'd actually been wrong.
His brown hair was, for once, hanging neatly down, framing his narrow face, and he managed to not look as slutty as he normally did. Something which might come from the long, black trench-coat he wore that covered most of his tight, black leather pants and red shirt that he hadn't even bothered to button all the way up. Around his neck hung a rosary-looking neclace, yet it too was hidden beneath the somewhat tight coat. His nails were polished black, as usual and he seemed more like a walking storm-cloud than anything.
As the Japanese-looking man rushed down the steps to the filthy subway, Zen dug in his pocket and found a cigarette which he put inbetween his lips and a lighter which he flicked open and... one time, no fire, kept walking. Two times, no fire, bought a ticket. Three times, no fire, stopped on the platform. Four times, no fucking fire! And with that he simply spat the cigarette out of his mouth and stuffed the lighter back in his pocket, biting his lip so hard in anger that he managed to pierce his own lip with his sharp fangs. Great, just... great! As if that didn't help on his mood, now he felt he needed that too; blood! Great, just.. fucking...GREAT! Screw the world and everything in it! Would have been nice to just watch them all burn!
I wish I didn't smoke. There are cooler ways to die
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