Post by hevvhocorrcpts on Jul 12, 2016 7:01:01 GMT -6
[ Delete that previous bio post. ]
• Ring Name: hevvhocorrvpts
• Height: 5'10
• Weight: 175lbs
• Age: 30
• Fighting Out Of : Chicago, IL
• Picture Base: Henry Rollins ['90-'93]
• Wrestling Style: Toy & Annoy
• Finishing Move(s): Disasterpeace [ganso bomb]
• Signature Move(s) 1. Disconnecktie(Twister/Neck Crank Submission)
2. Suplex Double-knee Backbreaker
3. Hangman's DDT(e.g. Randy Orton)
• Other Move(s) - Stepping on the hair of a downed opponent while yanking their arms up
Dry gulch
Side Headlock Face Rake along the top rope
Texas Cloverleaf
Throwing a chair at opponent's face
Old School Sit-down Neckbreaker
• Entrance Description:
The venue is bathed in a gray, somber light creating a beautiful yet mysterious atmosphere with a slightly grim tone. From the ramp to the ring, a faint, phosphorescent smog hangs in the air.
The WARPEDVision video monitor slowly stirs to life as if roused from a deep sleep. A precise pulse quickly deteriorates into a frantic scramble of distortion. Suddenly, the screen bursts into a chaotic patchwork of shattered visuals: algorithmic hiccups and blips, corrupted images, deranged hot flashes of an NES cart that isn't cooperating. The ghost in the machine clawing at the digital fabric of its own simulated world--a mouthless entity trying to speak--purging the subconscious sludge through every pixel in a grease fire of glitches.
At the same time, an ambient synthscape with a fantastic, otherworldly aura fills the building. A pitch-perfect impersonation of Philip Glass, Goblin and Ennio Morricone. Alien tones. A potent brew of anxious synth arpeggios mixed with the venting of a celestial pipe organ that seems to reverberate from a chasm. It sounds like either the mothership is landing, or someone’s going to get killed.
The audience, perplexed and somewhat bewildered, grows more restless as they wait in suspense for someone to walk down the aisle. Heads start turning in every direction in search of this elusive character.
From out of nowhere, Hewhocorrupts steps through the crowd and unceremoniously vaults over the guardrail. Then, he quietly rolls under the bottom rope, walks to the corner and sits criss-cross applesauce against the turnbuckles. He leans back, awaiting his opponent. A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun.
Read more: undergroundzero.boards.net/thread/37/outliers-tag-team#ixzz4ECL9iEFw
• Ring Name: hevvhocorrvpts
• Height: 5'10
• Weight: 175lbs
• Age: 30
• Fighting Out Of : Chicago, IL
• Picture Base: Henry Rollins ['90-'93]
• Wrestling Style: Toy & Annoy
• Finishing Move(s): Disasterpeace [ganso bomb]
• Signature Move(s) 1. Disconnecktie(Twister/Neck Crank Submission)
2. Suplex Double-knee Backbreaker
3. Hangman's DDT(e.g. Randy Orton)
• Other Move(s) - Stepping on the hair of a downed opponent while yanking their arms up
Dry gulch
Side Headlock Face Rake along the top rope
Texas Cloverleaf
Throwing a chair at opponent's face
Old School Sit-down Neckbreaker
• Entrance Description:
The venue is bathed in a gray, somber light creating a beautiful yet mysterious atmosphere with a slightly grim tone. From the ramp to the ring, a faint, phosphorescent smog hangs in the air.
The WARPEDVision video monitor slowly stirs to life as if roused from a deep sleep. A precise pulse quickly deteriorates into a frantic scramble of distortion. Suddenly, the screen bursts into a chaotic patchwork of shattered visuals: algorithmic hiccups and blips, corrupted images, deranged hot flashes of an NES cart that isn't cooperating. The ghost in the machine clawing at the digital fabric of its own simulated world--a mouthless entity trying to speak--purging the subconscious sludge through every pixel in a grease fire of glitches.
At the same time, an ambient synthscape with a fantastic, otherworldly aura fills the building. A pitch-perfect impersonation of Philip Glass, Goblin and Ennio Morricone. Alien tones. A potent brew of anxious synth arpeggios mixed with the venting of a celestial pipe organ that seems to reverberate from a chasm. It sounds like either the mothership is landing, or someone’s going to get killed.
The audience, perplexed and somewhat bewildered, grows more restless as they wait in suspense for someone to walk down the aisle. Heads start turning in every direction in search of this elusive character.
From out of nowhere, Hewhocorrupts steps through the crowd and unceremoniously vaults over the guardrail. Then, he quietly rolls under the bottom rope, walks to the corner and sits criss-cross applesauce against the turnbuckles. He leans back, awaiting his opponent. A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun.
Read more: undergroundzero.boards.net/thread/37/outliers-tag-team#ixzz4ECL9iEFw