Jerry’s Comments (group member since Aug 05, 2019)

Jerry’s comments from the island unknown | advanced rp group.

Seeing this man’s sudden offer to risk his own skin had sparked a sort of nervous flame within Samson’s chest. He looked at Vinny, his tired eyes, the wry expression on his face, he found that it was difficult to read this man and gauge exactly why he would be able to do something dangerous for a group of strangers? What of his family? Did he even have family?

Family. Samson bit his lip, crossing his arms as he looked across at these people, an old man holding the hand of his wife, children with their parents, each of them had something to lose here, it makes sense why they were much less willing to risk losing their lives before they’re eventually found. Perhaps he and Vinny were alike after all, because the only one waiting for him to get home is maybe his employer and his sweet turtle Theodosia, but otherwise he was alone. Truly, truly alone.

Was this risk truly worth it?

His doubts clouded his judgement, heavy and dripping with guilt that threatened to consume him whole. Suddenly he sighed, the tightness in his chest growing into a vice grip as he turned to look into the trees, watching gleaming green palm fronds waving in the sticky ocean breeze, the noise of crickets and frogs and whatever the fuck was waiting to eat any adventurerers.

Samson pulled his hair from his face, letting out a deep sigh before stopping Vinny from stepping into the forest, “wait!” He paused for a moment, stuck in some surreal moment where he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, almost as if he had lost control entirely. “Wait. Just- I’ll go with you. You won’t be any help if you’re exhausted.”

Samson hesitantly took the saltines, looking at him as if to confirm that this was okay. Even still, something awful wormed it's way into his chest and a deep, deep sense of guilt overwhelmed him. Both of them were hungry, gods, even the cigarettes couldn't manage to chase away the gnawing in his stomach, but what happens when they all run out of food? None of them had weapons, they were on a plane.

He sighed, too exhausted to panic, "Alright, thanks. Let's hope someone here is secretly Bear Grylls or managed to pack a speedboat in their carry on." He began to walk towards the others with Vinny, letting out another sigh when he stepped into the circle of panicked people, though their previous fear had managed to simmer down enough that he didn't feel the need to run away.

"Someone needs to gather kindling, the driftwood on the beach is too wet to burn," someone said, but it seemed as if they were the de facto leader of the group and so Samson nodded, wondering who here is brave enough to go into that forest when he realized that the leader was not volunteering themselves and everyone else, an elderly couple, a man with a broken leg, and others who seemed too recessed into their thoughts to go were silent.

Well, fuck.

Samson sat back down and finished his cigarette, stubbing it out on the log and stuffing the butt into his pocket. The heat here was hot and heavy, beading against his skin uncomfortably. It reminded him of the sauna, with the heavy air almost stifling. With a sigh he pulled his flannel off, running a hand through his now frizzy curls to try and pry them from his sweaty face.

Samson looked up at the other survivors, then at the sun just beginning to set. "I think they're going to try and start a fire, we should probably help. It'll at least keep the bugs off of us," he muttered the last part more to himself then to Vinny, taking a moment to swat an absurdly large mosquito preparing to bite him.

"I hope they have food, I'm starved. I guess it really wasn't a good idea to skip breakfast, huh?" Samson chuckled at his own joke, heaving himself to his feet and taking another glance within the shaded forest. "Plus, I don't know what the hell lives in this jungle, but I definitely don't want to find out any time soon."

"Alright, Vinny, uh, I'm just going to check your pupils to make sure they're not blown or different sizes. That's a clear sign of severe head trauma. Hold still, please." He turned to face him, leaning in and gently lifting his eyelids to check out his eyes. Blue, Samson noted with a small smile, he was almost envious. His mother often told him how he was unlucky to inherit her "shitty eyes," which included not only the vision problems but the color as well. He bit the inside of his cheek, leaning back with a tentative smile.

"I was actually an EMT for a while. That's how I know this stuff. Your eyes look fine, by the way. You could still have some head trauma, though, or even shock." He sighed, leaning back, "there's not much I could do to treat it though, but I think it's best to know so we can take precautions not to aggravate it."

Quickly Samson rambled off the concussion test questions he remembered, asking Vinny if his vision is blurred or he's seeing double, if he's confused, missing memories, or nauseous at all.

"I think you and I made it off easy, though," he said, clearly trying to sound more upbeat, "some people weren't so lucky, unfortunately. I wish I could've done more to help them, but hopefully rescue will come soon."

Samson took the match box with a grateful sigh, especially when he was able to light his cigarette and take a long drag, inhaling the deeply putrid smoke that burned like fire down his throat. He coughed like it was his first time -- he doesn't smoke often on account for his profession -- waving off the stranger when his coughing died down.

Taking a good look at the stranger now as he spoke -- Samson couldn't hear that well, his heart was still racing -- he realized now that this is a man he probably would have thought handsome if they had met in the heat of a night club or the quiet din of a pub. Plus, Samson thought, he's British, I would have been ecstatic to meet him in a different scenario, pretty much ANY other scenario.

He's looking at him, clearly waiting for him to say something. Samson shook his head as if to clear his cluttered thoughts and finally spoke, "Ah- I'm Samson. No one calls me that. It's just Sam." Shit, what did he say was his name? Something with a V, he thought, Valentine, Vince, Vinny. That was it. Wait, shit, this dude was in shock. Shouldn't he be doing something from his first aid course in college?

"Are you hurt?" He asked, watching a bit too closely as the man began unbuttoning his over shirt, "I saw some other people didn't quit fare as well as me -- that is to say, I managed to come out fine." Samson went to brush his hair from his face, wincing as his fingernails caught on a small crust of blood collecting right near his temple. "You have helluva bruise forming there, Vinny. Can I take a look?"

"What?" Samson snapped, glaring at the individual intruding on his moment for a second before visibly softening, letting out a deep sigh. "Sorry, I'm just- sure, I'd love a light." He sat up, pulling his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears as he recovered his cigarette. Looking at the man, also long haired, he noted, he watched as the stranger looked around with a level of apathy that baffled Samson. How could he look so callous and uncaring in the middle of hell?

He scooted a little of the fallen tree, "you can sit if you want." He offered, motioning towards the spot next to him on the slightly damp tree. "I uh- sorry. I'm just kinda freaking out here." Samson admitted, the words tumbling from his mouth in a rush, "I-I... I normally have a clear head but I don't- I'm rambling, sorry." He bit down on his lips to silence himself, glancing around the area and avoiding looking too close at the wreckage lest he see something he will ultimately regret seeing.

The island though was like something a forty-seven year old secretary would set as her computer desktop, which is to say it was picturesque and beautiful in a morbid sort of way, he would even use the word heavenly to describe it. Waxy palm fronds wavered in the light ocean breeze and the water, a light blue Samson has only seen in chlorinated pools met the azure blue of the sky out onto the vast horizon.

That is, the empty horizon. His chest tightened again and he forced himself to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

Samson considered himself a rational person above all else, he doesn't believe in panicking when he could view the situation with a cool head instead. Of course, that all went out the window the moment he survived a fucking plane crash and clawed his way from the broken vessel purely hopped on adrenaline.

He tried to speak to the other people, but their voices overlapped into something else entirely and his head pounded with an overwhelming sense of panic as he tried to focus on what they were saying. All he could think about was the blood in the water within the plane, the blood pooling in his mouth, and the corpses left in their seats as he crawled from the wreckage.

He staggered to a fallen log, digging in his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he had hidden in his carry on. They were a tad damp, but they would work to hopefully calm his nerves. Pulling his lighter from his pocket he struggled to light it, his chest sinking with each failed click of the lighter and the flame sputtering out hopelessly. His hands shook wildly, his ankle was throbbing, and he felt a rivulet of what could be blood or sweat trickling from his temple.

"Fuck!" He finally exclaimed when the lighter fell from his fingers into the sand. He curled into himself, running his hands through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Why did this happen to him? What's going to happen to him? The only experience he has with survival is binge watching Bear Grylls on netflix!

“Samson Knox ”

23┊Voice Actor (Former Child star)┊American
Male┊Bisexual┊Main Island

[ a p p e a r a n c e

Hair┊Light Brown and curly, often pulled back from his face.
Eyes┊Brown
Race┊Caucasian
Height┊6’2”
Body Type┊Small and somewhat bird-like. Unathletic.
Scars/Marking┊The half-inch scar above left eyebrow, several on his fists, a circular burn scar on his chest.
Face Claim┊Matthew clavane

[ l i k e s ┄ Dungeons and Dragons ; Pigeon Racing ; Mario Kart speedruns, His pet turtle, his roommate ; learning new languages.
[ d i s l i k e s ┄ His mother ; Drawing (he’s not any good at it) ; Biphobia really gets him infuriated
[ s t r e n g t h ┄ Quick math skills ; Charismatic/diplomatic ; Mentally strong
[ w e a k n e s s e s ┄ Physically weak ; chronic illness ; no survival skills
[ p e r s o n a l i t y T r a i t s

Charismatic┊Often cracking jokes and speaking for others who can’t.
Intelligent┊He’s sharp witted and carries information in his head.
Empathy┊He is good at putting himself in other people’s shoes.
Blunt┊Sammy might have kindness, but he doesn’t like conversational fluff and skips straight to the point.
Insecure┊Despite it all, Sammy has hang ups about his talent, often wondering how much of his success is because of his talent or how much if it was luck.
Cowardly┊Sammy is a boy from the city, he has no experience with the wilderness and as such he is often afraid.
Noncompetitive┊Sam often acts uncaring and somewhat apathetic to the point where he tries not to argue with anyone even if he disagrees.

[ b a c k g r o u n d

Samson Knox, born Samson Miller, now works as a voice actor for anime and videogames and is quickly rising to fame due to his past work in commercials and television shows when he was a kid.

His mother has always been a crass and uncaring individual, making it known to him at a young age that she never wanted to be a mother. She quickly changed her tune when he was picked in an audition for a commercial due to his cute face and plucky nature. Quickly she embraced the life of being more of a manager than a mom to him, preventing him from a normal childhood in favor of fame and riches. His roles grew bigger from age four to age eight, where once he even starred in a small television show which promptly died due to the director being a creep, but nonetheless his mother pushed him further and further until at fourteen years old she began putting him on diets, home-schooling, even spiking his drinks with a cocktail of drugs to keep him sharp.

It was only when he fainted on set for a television show at fifteen did he be put into the foster system while his mother faced charges and was ultimately charged to five years in an institution. He continued his lifestyle because it was all he knows and quickly fell in love with videogames, working to voice act english dubs for obscure japanese titles, moving to japan to work for these companies. When his mother fell ill he moved back to the states to his hometown, settling down in a college program (drama program) and becoming a student with hidden resentment towards the woman who birthed him.

He now has a pet turtle named Theodosia and his roommate is taking care of her (don’t worry about her.)


[ r e l a t i on s h i p s

Partner┊Open
Rivals┊Open
Friends┊Open
Enemies┊Open
Other┊Open

[ m i s c e l l a n e o u s

Reasons For Traveling┊Traveling back to japan for sight-seeing and for an opportunity to voice act in an anime.
Disorders┊Formerly addicted to stimulants, bipolar depression.
Fun Fact┊He can fluently speak japanese and a little bit of german.

Important Belongings┊

Picture of his turtle in his wallet (cute)
a bottle of nail polish (black)
Hair comb (To stay fabulous)
His retainer (Extremely useful)
A pack of cigarettes (Probably good to barter)
A half-melted and forgotten pack of gummy bears.

Has anyone claimed Matthew Clavane yet? If not, I'd love to claim him and if someone has, I'd like to claim Will Roland (unless he's claimed too, but I doubt it.)

- Jerry