You Are 72% Evil

You are very evil. And you're too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

Don't know 'bout that. Hell, shootin' a gun makes ya a bit by their reckonin'.

I realize he's only been here for a few days, and I'm still figuring out the voice, but any sort of crit would be appreciated.

Canon: Jayne is, essentially, the muscle on Serenity’s crew. He’s big. He’s tough. He likes guns. He has many guns, as well as knives, grenades, and assorted other party favors. He names them, and assigns sentimental value to them. He’s good at standing there and looking scary. Yes, he’s an excellent man to have at your back--unless the money’s better somewhere else. Then, there may be a conflict in interests, since he’s also the mercenary. He’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed, though he’s perfectly capable of snarking with the rest of the crew (I think it’s a requirement: you must be at least this witty to board this ship), and perfectly capable of making bad decisions while he’s looking out for number one. He isn’t above having a few pangs of conscience about them, either. His voice is strong, and very clearly “cowboy,” blunt, common and outer world, without much patience for niceties.

Sample Post:

Okay, everyone gather ‘round. This? This here is Vera. Vera is a Callahan full-bore autolock. She is one of the finest guns in the ‘verse, but today, today I’d like to think of her as my teacher’s aide. And we are here to teach you about sensitivity and respectin’ other people’s feelin’s, and not fightin’ and beatin’ and cuttin’ on each other an’ the like. It’s not exactly my first choice of work--not exactly my eighth choice of work--but the money’s good.

So until something better comes along, me an’ Vera, we don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense about you kids cuttin’ on each other. Where the ruttin’ hell do you get off, anyway? You hold a shank that way, anyone worth a damn’ll knock it clean out of your hand. Then where are you? You’re just some idiot as used to have a knife. That ain’t no way to fight. Oh, and it ain’t sensitive-like neither. So you get your acts together and act all civil and prissified.

I don’t know what you kids is so bent outta shape for, anyway. You got guns. You got things to shoot. You got some pretty girls ‘round, an’ that don’t hurt none. Hell, if it weren’t for the whole not leavin’ thing and some of the more colorful lot... and havin’ no where to spend this money... and the critters gettin’ all flush on you, this might be my kind of place. I mean, there’s food--and it’s real food, not just protein. And y’got... trees. And a pool. Seems y’got drops in all the psychedelic colors of the rainbow, and a shiny big lake to look at while you’re on ‘em! Y’got... folk walkin’ ‘round dressed up like Reavers...

Can’t say I much see the point in that last part.

Can’t say I much see the point in most of here, though. The lady runnin’ this show ain’t got any kind of sense, if you ask me. I told her as much when I got the wave for the job. I’m not cut out to be sensitivity trainin’ anyway. Mostly I just hurt people, y’know? As I see it, there’s probably always gonna be someone needs hurtin’ or shootin’ or scarin’. I figure I oughta always have work. Told her that, too. Crazy whore said I’d be “just fine” for the job. “Just fine.” Stupid, and crazy.

Might as well get down to business.

So, who all ‘round here is insensitive?