|Name Debra Cleveland
|Day Job Privileged
|Player Name(s) Ogmios
|Neighborhood Palos Verdes
|Secret Life: Outcast
Disadvantages: Abnormal Behavior (mandatory), Unstoppable Visions (mandatory), Sleep Deprivation Vulnerability (mandatory), Self Hatred (-3), Lonely (-2), Virgin (-1), Drug Sensitivity (-2), Addiction: Nicotine (-5)
|Income: $500 / week
|Recurring Costs: $150
|Money (Cash): $17 (three $5 bills and two $1 bills)
|Money (Bank): $49,800
|Backpack, 2 bottles of bottled water, ear plugs, flashlight (keychain), 3 protean bars, sunscreen, leather jacket, lighter (expensive), makeup kit, a pack of clove cigarettes
Debra was never quite like other children. Sooner or later, most children complain about the monsters under their beds or in their closets, but the stories Debra told about the monsters she claimed she could see were disturbingly consistent. When someone would open the door of the closet to prove to her that there are no monsters there, she would burst out screaming, pointing at something no one else could see. Her parents, who were too busy with their own lives to have a child in the first place were sure that she was just crying out for attention. They were of course right. But that didn’t make the monsters only she could see any less real.
So her parents did what any sensible parent who didn’t really love or want their child would do – they sent her off to a far away boarding school, in merry old England. Over there, she was even lonelier than she ever was back home. Not only was she the weird girl that saw things that didn’t exist, she was now also the stranger from America, who didn’t know what footy was or that jelly wasn’t something you spread on bread. She began to lie about not seeing things, and pretend that they weren’t really there. And eventually, she convinced herself that they were just figments of her imagination. For a brief, blissful, period, she was almost normal.
When she was fourteen, she began taking singing lessons, and for the first time, began feeling as if she actually belonged. Not only was she good at something for the first time in her young life, but she also took a special liking to her teacher, Ms. Hardy. She would encourage Debra to express herself by her singing, to stop repressing the frightening sights she alone could see. Under Ms. Hardy’s tutorage, Debra started staying after school hours to practice her singing. She and Ms. Hardy began talking, and really formed a relationship that extended beyond that of a teacher and her student.
One night, Debra came to practice a new song she wrote, still hung over from trying to drink for the first time at a party the previous night. The song turned out to hit a bit too close to home, and she burst out crying as the repressed memories swept through her conscious mind. Ms. Hardy wanted to comfort her, so she hugged her tightly. Something cracked in Ms. Hardy’s self control, and she planted a kiss on Debra’s unwilling lips. Debra took a step back, and let the wall she had put up around her powers fall apart, revealing Ms. Hardy true face, complete with fur, pointy ears and sharp teeth. She ran out screaming, and quit school the following morning, never to return.
Today, she live in L.A. again, singing about the scary place only she can see to groups of malcontent teenagers living on the outskirts of society, craving for anything extreme enough to make them feel alive.
Even though she doesn’t usually show it, Debra is still the frightened little girl she was all those years ago. She doesn’t know how the world really works, only that it’s a scary place in a way most people won’t accept. Her proper upbringing gave her a strong compulsion to “do the right thing”, but the naturally rebellious part of her persona drives her to break any taboo she can, be it in the way she dresses, the lyrics she sings or her political beliefs. Between these two drives, Debra is somewhat lost, unsure who she really is.
But only few people know this side of her. In public, Debra wears her stage persona like a costume, an armor that protects her from being hurt. She exhibits a strong, sexy image, catering to the stereotype of the gothic rock star. This image, of course, couldn’t be more different from the person she really is.
Debra is mainly afraid. Afraid of discovering what the world really is, of discovering who she really is, and of discovering that she isn’t as special as she thought she was. In the meanwhile, she lives off the unconditional love of her fans, too afraid of failure to try to break out of the local scene to international fame.
Debra is too scared to actively seek out new knowledge or understanding of the invisible world around her. But if something supernatural happens close enough for her to know about it, she’ll probably try to investigate, get herself knee-deep in trouble.