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About the character

Name:Parker Allen James


Hometown:Baltimore, Maryland


Year if student:Sophomore

Major or subject taught: Music (Instrumental)

Clubs and sports involved in: Environmental Club, Recycling Club

Housing (Dorms, Greek Row, Off Campus, may choose single or double): Single dorm

PB:Jesse Quin

Interests: Playing bass, guitar, piano, drums, and any other musical instrument he can get his hands on! He's also quite the environmentalist considering his mom is such a hippie. Music of all kinds, concerts, watching football (he loves the Ravens), parties, friends, and road trips.

Characteristics, traits and personality: Parker is a sweet, outgoing boy who had a tendency to be a little dorky, but loveable. He's boyish, with hair that is sometimes unruly, but dark and curly, and while he loves to smile, he has a tendency to get pensive. Parker is very easy to make friends with and probably trusts to a fault. He's really a romantic at heart, but hasn't (up to this point) had that many relationships.

Brief history and background: Parker was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. He was raised by his mother, Ellen James (née: Hamilton) since he was five. His father passed away that year of prostate cancer, and he didn't take it very well. Having a loss like that at a young age did make him stronger, but he does fear losing loved ones. Now that he's older, he's very close with his mother, who's a vegan, environmentalist, and all around eccentric, but caring mother. She tends to embarrass him sometimes, but he can stay up talking to her as if she was a best friend.

She always knew he was talented. Music came easily to him all the time. His voice is pleasant, and he can catch on to just about anything put in front of him, but bass and guitar are his favorites. He's got a soft spot for rock music, but has an open mind when it comes to anything live. Going to concerts and music festivals of all kinds is a hobby of his. He'd love to form a band one day, but isn't sure how to go about it. As of now, it remains a dream.

He's never really been away from home, but he got a sizable scholarship to Abernathy, and his mother was incredibly proud. She continues to support him, but he does work at a local restaurant waiting tables to supplement his income.

First Person RP Example:
Oh, man. I worked a double today, and it SUCKED. Some days, I really like doubles, because you can really rake in the cash. But today was just one of those days. I got in the weeds, and then everything I tried to do, I screwed up. I dropped his huge salad on the floor right next to this lady and got salad dressing on her dress. Boy, was she pissed! I thought she was gonna saw me in half with the look she gave me. The boss really bitched me out. I spilled a whole tray of drinks, but it was mostly water and it happened in the kitchen, so I just had to mop that up.

Anyway, enough about that. I'm home now in my apartment. I probably smell like Italian food, but I guess I could smell like worse things...I think the crew from the restaurant is going to the bar, but I really don't think I have the energy to go. I just want to get a shower and crawl into bed. It's Sunday, so...class tomorrow anyway. Can't party if I'm gonna get up and go. I think I'll set the coffee pot to go off in the morning though. Something tells me I'll need my caffeine.

Third Person RP Example:

It was quiet out. Normally in the courtyard, there were people playing Frisbee golf or studying, but not at this time of night. Parker was usually in bed by this time, too, but sometimes a melody would keep him awake. If he didn't play or sing it, it would leave him, and this one really wanted to stick out in his mind. So he took his guitar out and sat in the courtyard, playing a soft melody for the crickets. There wasn't really much to it. It was simple chords, but it flowed nicely and made him feel warm inside.

After awhile, when the melody was firmly in his mind, he put his guitar down and laid back to look at the stars. He missed his dad. He missed his mom. But they would both be glad to know that he was happy here. It was easier to tell his mom about what was going on, but he wished he could share those things with his dad. His grades were good, his classes were going well, he was standing on his own two feet like any man should, and he was a part of something here. A part of a group with similar interests in arts. He wondered though, "Would you be proud of me, dad?" Maybe it was silly to whisper to the stars, but he didn't care just now.

Instead, he sat up, grabbed his guitar, and played his sad little melody until he got tired enough to sleep.


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July 2012

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