emmet
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Rocco Nicoletti
CITIZEN INFORMATION
CITIZEN INFORMATION
| -BASIC INFORMATION- NAME: Rocco Nicoletti ALIAS: Chef NICKNAMES: Rocky, Rock, Coco. CID: #26863 GENDER: Male AGE: 26 DATE OF BIRTH: 26/09/1992 NATIONALITY: Italian PLACE OF BIRTH: Taranto, Italy CURRENT LOCATION: Geneva, City 24 EDUCATION: Taranto Educational Institution of the Union; Saint Agostinelli University of Medicine OCCUPATION: Working-class citizen | -PHYSICAL INFORMATION- PHYSICAL STATE: Somewhat on the skinnier side. HEIGHT: Height WEIGHT: 63KG EYES: Light brown. HAIR: Brown + Short ETHNICITY: White BODY TYPE: Rocco is somewhat skinny, but due to his height, he is overcompensated. CLOTHES: A beautiful grey shirt with smooth fabric, a set of dark pants, and brown formal shoes, followed by a new grey flat cap. A casualwear set. NOTABLE FEATURES: Moustache well-groomed and hair always cut. |
| -PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION- MENTAL STATE: Cheerful MENTAL DISABILITIES: None KEY PERSONAL TRAITS: Self-assured, high maintenance, bookworm, foodie, squeamish, outgoing, INTERESTS: Cooking, literature, television, medicine. LIKES: Cooking, literature, lengthy cooking recipes, well-done dishes, a fine red wine. DISLIKES: Strawberries, mango, kiwi. KNOWN LANGUAGES: Italian, English | -FAMILY- MOTHER: First Last / Description or status. FATHER: First Last / Description or status. SIBLING: First Last / Description or status, First Last / Description or status, First Last / Description or status. FAMILY COHESION: Cohesive. |
| -BACKSTORY- Rocco Nicotelli was born on 26th of September of 1992 (26 years old) in Taranto, Italy. A city known for its iron and steel foundries, oil refineries, naval shipyards and food processing factories. His family was a low to medium class family. He only had his father as a food processing factory worker, as well as his grandmother who worked as a retailer, a simple store clerk for a clothes store. His mother had died when he was four in a car accident, her body was unrecognizable and the funeral proceeded with a closed casket. He was the only son of his parents, he was usually alone to himself. Nobody to play with. Nobody to talk to. No one but him, literature, television and the outside. The prologue of his life was spent in dejection. He had no mother figure, no maternal love or affection. He only had his grieving father and grandmother. He would usually stay at home and watch culinary shows, follow up children's books which later evolved to more seriousness and of course, practice said culinary skills. Regardless of whether or not he was a youngling, he persisted in cooking. His family was absent for the most part. His father was tucked away in a food processing factory, and his grandmother was attending the shop. Both would usually remain there for a lengthy amount of times, due to being dependent on only themselves. At the age of six, things have steadily improved. The grieving chapter was complete and surpassed anyone's thoughts and minds. The family as a whole returned to how they were before the death of his mother. Joyful, proud, persistent and never hopeless. Rocco had his culinary skills greatly improved. His liking for literature and cooking only grew stronger. He followed the most famed and liked recipes he had ever learned. From his mother. They tasted like no other. He felt mesmerized with how someone so close to him, his own blood, had such practice in the craft. How it tasted so delightfully, how it danced around on your tongue, and made you feel something you've never felt before, or tasted before. For him, that was his mother. She was the one he looked up to - and still does. Brighter days have come to stay. Every so often the family would do something together. Take a walk in the park, go to the mall, go bowling, to an amusement park or other family-related activities. It never ended. That was all that happened, gladly. This stood out for years to come until he was a out ten years old, which is when the Black Mesa incident occurred and the Resonance Cascade had screwed every human life to a sorrowful and dystopian path, full of suffering and pain. In the meantime, some of the key parts of his life so far were naturally his cooking, literature, family and new introductions. Friends, dressing fashionably, having an interest in speaking to people and learning more about them. That is how Rocco Nicotelli was in his childhood. And for that matter, his childhood dies here. From this point forward, he becomes not a kid, but a grown up. Forced to behave like an adult, forced to listen to what he was told, forced to be scared and to eat, drink and do whatever needed for survival. The family hit a huge blow when the Resonance Cascade happened. Just like everyone else, they were simply one of many who struck bad luck with Miss Fortune herself. His grandmother died and his father was injured. All caused by the invading force, all done by the Xenian creatures. They were reckless and unstoppable. They showed no mercy and destroyed everything in their paths. Headcrabs, grunts, alien controllers, houndeyes, alien flaps. Just to name a few of them. The military and the police were not enough to effectively combat the threat. The local populace took arms and tried helping as well. Militias were formed. As a matter of fact, even Mafias stood out and co-operated hand to hand with the military, militias, the police and the government. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Nothing stopped them until even more issues turned over. Famine, lack of healthcare, lack of fuel, ammunition, public services failing and more problems than people could count with their hands. Despite the coalition formed by the former groups, it all fell into despair. Everyone slowly turned their backs on each other. People would fight for resources, rape, kill, human traffick, everything. Survival of the fittest proceeded, and the weak and innocent suffered. His father recovered from his wounds within the first month of the invasion, which was the only good news they had ever received. Power struggles still went on, and struggles for ordinary people too. Rocco ate everything he could get, and tried to adapt his cooking to this new lifestyle. A lifestyle where you had to eat everything. Even a rat. Grilled rat, pigeon stew, headcrab spaghetti, and a few otherworldly recipes were some of the things that Rocco and refugees ate. Nothing to spare, all but crumbs to fill their empty tummies. Those that had farms, stocks of food, ammo and guns were some of the richer people. They had control and influence because of that. Crime went rampant, though all schemed. The mafias began controlling everything and everyone. The military was depleted. The government was spent. The police had their hands full and everyone had no time or mind to care. Their eyes were set to the Xenian threat, not to criminals. Riots still broke out by the hands of refugees nonetheless, there was no stopping sign for them. Nothing to hold them out. They've lost their planet and freedom from their own and from the Xenian wildlife. Who cares? Even more violence erupted. Things went from bad to worse. And to make matters uglier, a new foe arrived. The Combine. They began their full frontal attack. They suffered little to no casualties. Taranto was in a civil war of sorts, so who could care? Nobody at all, and the Combine loved every single second of it. Thousands died, all who tried to resist died or submitted to the new order. The remaining lived in fear and submission. Through this invasion, stability and peace slowly rose to be the norm, although through such rough environment. People were submitted to order. The military was forced to give directives to civilians, everyone was forced to share their belongings. Heirlooms did not matter anymore. Private property did not matter anymore either. You no longer had a house, a car, or yout clothes. Everyone did. Forcefully. The Xenian wildlife was killed by the Combine, and they protected everyone. Some thanked them, most were still opposing them. Slowly, a harsh society grew. Everyone had their own job now, camps began to be constructed and people began to be relocated. The Combine still ruled us over with their invading forces, and strangely enough the military began to work with them too closely, too friendly. But tensions were still high. Fast forward a year, cities began being repaired and reconstructed. |
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