I was a genetically perfect being cloned from the parts of an ancient human-like alien that nearly tried to destroy the world. I was made a common soldier in the same army belonging to those who made me, but when I learnt of the true nature of my origins, I destroyed half of their militia and killed their leader and burnt their towns. Also: I'm not a spehiroth imposter.
What is your dramatic supervillian origin story?
Sun, 07/12/2015 - 20:20
Tue, 07/14/2015 - 08:12
#2
ERROR, please try again after we attempt to do the banana dance.
I'm an evil clone of a good person designed to kill said good person.
Tue, 07/14/2015 - 08:14
#3
ERROR, please try again after we attempt to do the banana dance.
@Crazee-Pi-Forum You must not be doing a very good job of that if I'm still alive.
Fri, 07/17/2015 - 22:26
#4
Dang, Fehzor. Some of those details seem far too specific to be made up. I hope life is treating you well right now.
I originated when an old tired knight breathed his last and went to sleep in the Cradle of eternity. I exist to forever wander the planet, haunting those who have scorned the deceased.
Sat, 07/18/2015 - 01:29
#5
Sat, 07/18/2015 - 04:44
#6
:/
I was once a young courageous boy who fought in the army, thinking that I will one day become a great hero, an icon in which my fellow countrymen could strive to become. On my first mission, I was sent behind enemy lines to sabotage a group of radicals who were planning on activating an ancient evil to exact revenge upon my country, as I defeated the terrorists one by one, I eventually reached their leader, he was a sad, furious but broken man, he said he wanted revenge when his family was wiped out by the war years ago when he was a boy, and now he desired only revenge.
We fought for hours as our ideals and societal norm clashed, we both had the same dream, protect those we cared for, but each one of us had different ways of execution. In the end, I brought him low, unlike those I killed before, I felt no satisfaction of victory, I felt empty, hollow, it was then that I realized that those things that I was taught at school, in the military camp, that our country's course is just and our enemies must be defeated, all of them lies.
I burned my passport, I through away my medals, they don't mean anything to me now, I moved overseas under cover of the moonlight and joined a mercenary company where I can fight the wars I choose to fight, believe what I believed. I thought to my self, if I fought long enough, the world will finally run out of conflicts to fight and then there would be peace, and no one has to die again.
But I was wrong, the war then on, it never changes, I was trapped in an ebb and flow of bloodshed and gun fights. I slowly forgot who I am, where I came from and what I stood for, after years of fighting across the world, loosing more comrades in arms than I ever cared to count. I finally realized what I became.
People said that you either die a hero or live long enough to see your self become the villain, and I have lived enough.
I developed dysthymia at the age of 7 or so and went undiagnosed- this lead to a lack of friends until the age of 11, when I "befriended" a sociopath who played mind games with me constantly. Eventually our faux friendship deteriorated and I was left alone again with a few superficial high school "buddies" that most likely felt sorry for me, and I knew that I would never have relationships that would work so I began to develop my other talents, and became fairly established at making sculptures, minecraft buildings, things of that sort.
I had a talent, for taking things that I had seen and experienced, and putting them into a form as an artistic expression. I learned of happenings, and many other forms of art, and I wanted to do more than just make still life, for no one to see. There was just too much potential- so I began to shape who I was, telling lies, designing my personality. I wanted to design people, and so I did.
The person I created had brown hair, blue eyes, a voluptuous body- but more than that, they had a personality and I filled it as if it was my own. I became them, and it changed me. I had conversations with them in my head at first, then out loud. No one knew, because I had no one to tell.
It was, of course, never enough for us. We existed but wanted more, to take vengeance, to grab life by the eyes and take more than we deserved. I stole, cheated. My new friend controlled me, told me what to say and do.. and so, we made another, but this one external. I based Her off of shame this time, instead of desire. We took someone that we knew, intimately well but still someone distant, and we discovered things about them before they told me, and so, we hurt them. Shaped them. Changed them. Tasted them.
It was disgusting and regretful and it destroyed me, but not us. The urge comes back, the desire to control, to dominate. Pink and black. But last time was just the beginning, the delicious taste of vomit pleases me now, the aspiration to do more.