>Name
Oppenheimer B. Holiday, also known as "Oppy"

>Home
Currently rents an apartment next to a Homunculus resembling Mr. Beast, who has a pedantic attitude and is dedicated to independent cinema, with his floor overrun by stop-motion clay figures.

>Race
Human with psychic powers.

>History
He is an illustrator, animator, and visual effects artist. Oppy's current visual effects work consists of making the films recorded by eldritch monsters more human, as the otherworldly mysticism is usually of such high quality in effects that it feels unreal, so he has to deliberately hinder them on the computer. He keeps an archive of thousands of stickman animations made at age 13, with such embarrassing quality that they would make Alan Becker delete his videos from the internet. It was at that same age that he discovered his psychic abilities and his abnormal luck. 7 years have passed since then, and since the invasion of beings from another world began. His irregular genetics come from his mother, from whom he inherited a biological adaptation to survive in space, which manifests as albinism, a fragile and light body, and the ability to hold his breath for exactly 1 hour and 44 minutes.

He participated in an eldritch dating reality show using a cheap Chespirito costume. He reached the finals relying solely on his luck and shouting "Quico don't misbehave!" and "Chavo go to your barrel!" to get out of any trouble, but lost to a participant dressed as El Chapulín Colorado who possessed real mystical powers. As a result of the show's contract, he was obligated to accompany the orbid director Francisca for 12 hours daily. This bond ended when she was investigated for covering up a homicide and starting an incestuous relationship. Oppy testified correctly during the investigations, but accidentally revealed the orbid's fetish for creating monstrous jaws in places where they shouldn't exist.
For some reason, he always ends up tied to different creatures he has to accompany. On one occasion, he traveled with a male-voiced cosmic cow to the interior of the country to weaken barns in Kansas and leave them vulnerable to tornadoes. Later, an alien obsessed with excisions forced him to operate on her. Oppy accidentally removed a vital gland, which caused several members of the alien's species to turn into salt statues, which were then used as scenery for the new Star Wars reboot, except all the aliens are now played by scantily clad humans and the humans are represented by very brave and noble aliens or masallines.

Currently, he is tied to Railgun, a masalline mechanical bug that lives in his bloodstream and comes out of his nose through sneezes. Railgun communicates exclusively in Chinese. Oppy imagines him as a bald monk and genuinely believes his dialogues are positive messages about feminism and the fight against gender injustices, although in reality the entity is extremely vulgar, sexist, and controversial. Railgun has the ability to transform into drones and firearms that cannot shoot, but his favorite forms are a flattened mass of metal or a Nintendo Virtual Boy visor that gives children headaches. Furthermore, it is known that Railgun previously worked as a security camera in the bathrooms of a psychic league. Therefore, he has the ability to find the location of any nearby bathroom and approach its direction even if it is turned off, burned, or has turned into a slimy gel; it is a fundamental function, even above his own life.

>>6894
>do you want to become a masalline pokemon master?
Actually, for the character it's quite the opposite kek

>Sorry if I don't explain much or leave everything ambiguous, I thought it would be more organic to introduce it in roleplay instead of throwing it all at once.
No problem, none at all, muak

>>6889
Do you want to become a master pokemon master? kek
No problem anoniel, depending on your mon@'s context you can buy more companions of diverse races at the auction. As well as you can choose one of the two human subclasses: Psychic and Blood Style.

Sorry if I don't explain much or leave everything ambiguous, I thought it would be more organic to introduce it in roleplay instead of throwing it all at once.

By the way, OP will respond at night.

>>6888
A dream come true! Can I make two characters? Or rather, one character and his otherworldly companion. Unrelated pic

>>6905
You abandon your apartment. The familiar smog of mystic fog gives you an affectionate welcome as soon as you taste the first breath of fresh air of the day. A considerable walk awaited you from the bordering and modest suburbs of Sarexuglactrella to the bombastic and wealthy Thrillfair. More specifically, to the celebrated Vantablack Auction House.

Obliquely strangled roads pointing north to south, with no respect for Euclidean or any other geometric authority. On both sides, countless street vendors dispensed hot dogs, proudly made with everything except human meat. A tumultuous alien presence gracing every corner, alley, and avenue; from the most orthodox with quadrupedal locomotion or oozing like snails; or the more childish ones, rebels without a cause who opted for traditional human legs instead of floating or crawling. An absurd fashion, according to general opinion. Equivalent to an Earthling teenager deciding to get around on an electric scooter to demonstrate individuality.

You had to shoulder, dodge, or yield to polymorphic crowds circulating through the city's hypertensive arteries, each individual obeying different and, at times, mutually contradictory anatomical laws.

As you endured arriving at Thrillfair, you noticed good news. A multi-armed alien arachnid announced it would be the happy father-mother of 480 offspring. A creature made entirely of ties fed a flock of pigeons and ghostly polter-rats with breadcrumbs. Others walked pets that dwarfed you and had too many mouths for so few heads. Dragons and flying saucers alike soared through the intermediate firmament. The illuminated advertisements competed with each other to capture the attention of passersby belonging to alien species that didn't even have eyes. Even the air seemed overcrowded; saturated with industrial smells, alchemical perfumes, and recreational drugs.

A few streets from the meeting point, the campaign of the four-time re-elected mayor intensified; banners dominated every wall, marquee, and legally available vertical surface. Since the narrowly won and frustrated third collapse a decade ago, there had literally been no other living candidates left to submit to suffrage. The opposition continued to express their disagreement, although mainly through séances.
At the doors of the auction house, no bodyguard or receptionist hindered or expedited your passage; the security was abysmal, not to say nonexistent. Without much ado, you step forward, turn the knob of a rundown building, and the next second, your psionic perception goes haywire.

Being chronically sensitive to the turbulent effects of the beyond had its pros and cons; under favorable conditions, the average otherworldly being was an open book regarding their thoughts. Their mind was at your mercy without any effort. Diametrically opposed to the sensoriphobic experience that demigods inspired. It was like trying to hear the tinkling of a teaspoon during the collapse of a star. Their thoughts weren't hidden: they were simply buried under an inconceivable mass of esoteric contracts and unquantifiable information. Technically, you were still perceiving something, but the results lacked practical value and considerably reduced your brain's life expectancy.

Among suited humans, little green men equipped with technology that made you feel like a caveman, and diverse beings from the beyond, the hostess was the one the spotlights were fleetingly chasing. Aurelia Vantablack, reputed exporter of supplies and weaponry from the beyond to this side. Her organic hair, meanwhile, fell with lazy gravity. With each tentacular and muddy strand seeming soaked with dirt. For some reason, a letter in her own handwriting summoned you to this meeting.

Vantablack taps the eighties microphone in her hands, testing the audio. It echoes: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Until her voice reaches a limit, somewhere far away in the luxurious venue.

Aurelia: Nod is not fair and equitable, but I am.

She exclaimed, giving the audience a mischievous wink.

Aurelia: None will again feel excluded from the efforts of the new league of spiritual order! Rich, poor, noble, and commoner will have the same opportunity to return home crowned with victory!

She leaned in with the booming microphone. Keeping her gaze on the openings of her coat. You see the seams move in a way carefully designed to resemble the wind, of which there was none here.