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If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?

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app for sirenspull
- poopin'
Player Information

Name: Amy
Age: 21
AIM SN: socksaresocky
email: ipokebadgerswithsticks@yahoo.com
Have you played in an LJ based game before? Yep! Lots.
Currently Played Characters:
Conditional: Activity Check Link:

Character Information

Canon Source: Supernatural
Canon Format: TV
Character's Name: Chuck Shurley (not ever known as but still nonetheless God)
Character's Age: Older than the universe (and possibly younger than Death), but also 38. That’s the age on Chuck’s driver’s license, and how many years ago the man you see before you was born.
Conditional: If your character is 13 years of age or under, please clarify how they will be played.

What form will your character's NV take? A collapsible laptop. :D

Character's Canon Abilities: Rofl um. Omniscience and omnipotence nbd Prophetic visions. Oh, he can also sense angels when they’re close, but that’s an easy one. Let’s break the rest down a little, cause it’s complicated.


This one is pretty easy, on the surface.

Except it’s not that simple, not by a long shot. Chuck keeps His divine nature and abilities stuffed behind a locked, chained, deadbolted door in the back of His mind, and almost never accesses it for fear of unleashing an avalanche that would unravel the carefully constructed mortality and limited scope He’s set up for himself. Chuck has no desire to undam that river, so He shuts his omniscience off 99.9% of the time. The first time he got a vision was a genuine surprise to him- he was pretty sure “Chuck Shurley” was one of the prophets supposed to foresee the Winchesters, but didn’t know when the first one would happen.

His reasons for shutting it off are manifold, though- it’s not just a self-serving matter of status quo: it’s a matter of principle and belief, too. How can there be any true free will if some higher power knows all the outcomes and has everything predestined? No. Never. He’s lived for billions of years with the passionate belief in free will and the power of human choices, and he isn’t about to go fucking that up now. So strong is his will on this point that His omniscience is actually sometimes limited- by his own design. There are many instance where even if He used his omniscience to its full extent He wouldn’t know the outcome of a certain event- if and only if the outcome is dependent on human choices. If it’s determined by luck of the draw, that’s something Chuck could know. If it depends on what someone will say when asked to make a hard decision, then there’s a good chance He won’t know until they make their choice.

There are some things that filter through regardless of what He does about it- passive senses, for instance. He can sometimes tell when someone isn’t human, and once in a while can tell exactly what they are. It’s a lot easier when the someone is from Supernatural (i.e. from His universe and one of His creations). But by and large, most of what he knows that he shouldn’t comes from his visions.


He can do anything. Literally. He can do anything. You name it, He can do it. Raise the dead, reverse polarity, create pocket realms, unravel the fabric of reality, turn this Universe around and reboot the fucker, turn you gay, turn your mom gay, bone your mom. Well, not that last one. Well, he could. But He’s kind of a spazzcase with sex. That’s not the point here. Chuck is capable of literally anything in all of Creation, and has the Universe to prove it. He can elevate angels to higher rungs of power, restore them from the dead, erase addictions, create new planes of existence, and do absolutely anything. He is God. The end.

Except. Remember that door? Chuck is capable of anything, but that doesn’t mean that he will. On any given day, He only allows enough power to filter through to refill his flask with his mind. Even parlor tricks like Gabriel was shown doing, like magicking up food and bitchez, aren’t up his alley. He likes living in the gritty, crappy parts of life, as long as he always has booze.

At this point, he’s gone so long believing that he shouldn’t do anything and gotten so out of touch with omnipotence that he’s essentially psyched himself into believing that there are some things he actually can’t do- but don’t worry. He can.


He gets visions of future events a few times a week that come in the form of excruciating headaches that lead him to drink until he passes out, then when he wakes up he writes like a man possessed until it’s all out. Usually his visions outpace events by a few days, but sometimes when it pertains to big, important things he can have visions months in advance. Prophetic visions are the tools that Chuck uses to navigate the Supernatural universe with any kind of agency over the events around him. They’re how He influences outcomes, because that’s okay: it’s not divine intervention, it’s a Prophet doing what they do and trying to help people in their own small way.
Conditional: If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them? So obviously Chuck doesn’t count for this but I think he’d want people to think he does, since the prophecy thing only works when Heaven is directly feeding him visions. Without being dialed in he’s supposedly just a normal human. So once he figures out that normal people here get visions he might do some cover-your-ass stuff by augmenting his ~prophetic abilities so he can get visions during the day and stuff.
Weapons: None sob. But he theoretically knows how to work a gun from his visions and can wield a crowbar like a mofo.

Character History: One, two.
Point in Canon: Between 5.19 and 5.22, after Gabriel’s death but before his appearance in the season finale Swan Song. Between this point and his earlier appearance in the season, he kept up business as usual: writing, trying to get the funding to publish more of his books, trying not to draw Sam and Dean’s attention in the process. Who wants to get shot by angry sci-fi protagonists, right? Yeah. Anyway. He kept writing and kept on keeping on, the endless evidence of who His frickin ~Plan~ was hurting making it increasingly stressful to watch and write. And Gabriel. Oh, Gabriel. Roughly a week before he wound up in Siren’s Port, he saw Gabriel’s death in a vision for the first time. It hit like a punch to the gut immediately after getting stabbed in the spine. It was a triple threat: he saw it happen ahead of time in his dreams, had to write about it in lurid detail, then due to the divinity thing had the privilege of feeling it exactly as it happened.

Long story short he spent that entire week drunk. Drunk even for him, which is saying a lot. His fangirl girlfriend Becky dumped him- something about finding a cheap hooker in his phone history. Whatever. She wasn’t even putting out. It didn’t really even matter. The day after she canned his ass, he went out to buy more booze and got snapped up on the way home from the liquor store.
Conditional: Brief summary of previous RP history:

Character Personality:

Chuck is a bit of a nervous guy- it comes from having spontaneous prophetic headaches and a life as filled with nonsense as his is. An insane fan base, characters who routinely knock angrily on his door demanding spoilers, and a vastly inadequate supply of beer and clean underwear plague his life like so many white-trash locusts. When confronted with these and other such insurmountable obstacles as dropping his toothbrush or answering the door twice in one hour, Chuck's usual response is to blink a few times and stare in frustration. But please don't be fooled by his veneer of flailing incompetence; he's actually very smart in certain ways, and that intellect shines through in his rare moments of mental clarity between drunk spells or crippling frustration with the stupidity around him. When he isn't watching Maury or abusing his brain with whiskey, Chuck has a perverse, witty, often self-deprecating sense of humor. He knows when he's messed up and isn't afraid to call himself on it- to a point.

Not to say that he's a complete genius. Some would call him a creative genius, surely, but Chuck at times has a startling lack of common sense and a tendency to jump to conclusions. The pizza guy's late? Oh god, he probably ran his truck off the road. He won't worry too much about those terrible doomsday conclusions, of course, just call up Domino's instead of Pizza Hut; what's certain death (or certain inconvenience) when there's laziness to be had? Anything you or I could do, Chuck can do slower, later, and in his boxers.

He’s not constantly a falling-apart mess, though- when put into high-stress or high-stakes situations, he can snap into competence he didn’t know he had and short-lived leadership skills that last for all of five minutes. Inevitably he has to hand over the reins or take a powder so he can put his head between his knees and breathe. Life is stressful, bro. But he gets by, and when he’s not being massively selfish he does his best to help other people get by, too, because he cares about them.

All of them. That’s the biggest secret, the deepest layer to his onion- how much he cares. Because he isn’t just him, he’s Him. And He cares about every single one of His creations. Castiel once called them all works of art- God sees them as perfection incarnate, every last of them. Not that it stops Him from having His share of criticisms, of course. On a fundamentally deep level He knows that His plan is just, and that comfortable confidence used to give Him the emotional freedom to criticize and alter over the course of history- just look at the ancient Israelites. But that was a long time ago.

Lately He doesn’t meddle, at all, and He’s pretty okay with that. There are times, of course- underneath the alcoholic prophet and the basket case is a deadbeat father who’s haunted by deep-seated guilt about his abandonment of the angels, even though He knows with even more certainty that it was the right decision. He disengaged because He had to- and in the process, that’s meant disengaging from most of his power. He doesn’t use his power but rarely, and has narrowed his already limited so-called “omniscience” so as to not try to preclude the existence of free will. It’s reflective of a very strange quality for the Almighty to have- humility. His ego quieted after Jesus.

Then there’s the constant riot of prayers and deaths parading through his head, that he’s managed to lock away in a corner of the unimaginable vastness that is his mind. Some he can’t lock out- the visions come by (contrived) order of the angels, and sometimes he manages to hear snippets of angel radio in His mind. But He always knew most of what was going on, and- and fuck, it broke His heart. God plays favorites, and blatantly. Nothing hurts him more than the suffering of certain of the angels. On the whole, he sees them as falling far short of expectations and wasting their potential, but some... the four archangels and Castiel, largely, can motivate Him to rare action. It’s during those moments that one can find more raw love in Him than a human mind is capable of comprehending. Nothing horrifies him more than the thought of one of His children needing him, and being genuinely unable to help. Of course, His definition of “needing” is different than anybody else’s, and usually requires that things be far more dire than the others involved would prefer. So many years of being divorced from his own power have convinced him, on some level, that he’s functionally powerless. It’s all too easy for him to throw up his hands and say he can’t, until someone gives him that nudge to push through and grow a pair. At the end of the day, Chuck is happy to help people out in human ways, but He still believes firmly in the power of human choices.
Conditional: Personality development in previous game:
Character Plans: Well, Chuck will be kind of revolted by the factions and pretty skeeved out by either side, and the thought of actually picking a side omg will make him want to faint. If someone from the rebellion gets to him, he might be sweet talked into being a double agent on a low-risk, information-passing basis. If he had to do something like that he’d probably choose SERO, since he’d rather be experimented on than sold into slavery and he read too much Orwell to be comfy with big business. I plan on seeing how my boy here reacts to having to fight monsters and actually toughen up for the first time in an epoch. I don’t have a lot of big plans, really. The cast is what lured me, the setting is what convinced me, and I plan to explore that while still branching out, because panfandom CR is the best.

Appearance/PB: Rob Benedict.

Writing Samples

First Person Sample

[The feed clicks on to a blurry-cam view of our intrepid hero, that bearded son of Messrs. Morgan and Cuervo. Chuck couldn’t look less impressed if right now if he was getting paid for it. There was some I-knew-I-should’ve-stayed-home-today in there with a thin alcohol glaze. This shit, his eyes seem to say. This shit, they implore as he tugs his beard silently. The fuck is it?]

Okay... this definitely isn’t where I parked my car.

Uh. [Fidget fidget fidget. Running a hand through his messy hair, some stress evident.] Why do I feel like I just fell into a crappy video game? I mean, it can’t be anything recent since there are more colors here than brown and gray, but- Seriously. This isn’t funny.

It’s angels, right? They put me here? Michael or Raphael, huh. Keeping me away from- [He blanches suddenly.] No, wait. No! It’s ZACHARIAH. It’s him! Oh god, it’s him! He finally snapped, didn’t he? He knows I helped the Winchesters! [REACHING FOR THAT HANDLE OF VODKA, YEP. He can’t cope with his life right now.] Fuck, man.

Third Person Sample

Every answer came out the same way. That shaky, slightly high-pitched squeak that said he knew he should have stayed home today, Miss Frizzle, and does he have to go on the trip to Mars this time? Everyone who knew and didn’t know him, living or dead, just saw a travel-sized drunk who couldn’t deal with the realities of his life. Everything about it fit; really, who COULD take a transdimensional relocation like this gracefully?

Every answer was forced and awkward. He didn’t sign up for this, his tone said. This wasn’t in his contract, it said. Please, oh god, just take me home, it begged, or maybe that was just in his head. Here, there, everywhere and a little to the left- they were all here. Paradigms and self-defenses gnawed at and corroding too quickly for any stability at all.

Every answer to Gabriel’s flippant demands ripped from him like a band-aid taking skin with it. With each passing second of talking casually to His son, the rock He built on was giving way to sand, and everything crumbling with it. Chuck felt the walls collapsing in on him on that unknowing face- that animated face, that living face.


Gabriel was alive, and Chuck kind of wanted to scream until something made sense again. It was impossible. He’d felt the archangel’s light go out Himself, and He was never wrong about that kind of thing- especially not this. The memory still burned in terrible clarity: Chuck tore down his own rules for the second time and reached out with some tiny tendril of old omniscience, just to make absolutely sure that the visions fed to his Prophet’s mind by Heaven were telling absolute truth. Because if they were lying - if Gabriel could somehow survive, then Chuck could have reached out and helped him. That one chance, that one window, but- but Gabriel was destined to die. He didn’t have a choice.

They were all here. Lucifer, Gabriel, Castiel, Anael. Eventually he had to shut off the NV, curl up in his new bed, and remember how to breathe again. Castiel’s failing hope, Anna’s betrayed screams burning out into the night, Lucifer’s all-consuming misery, a secret to all but Him; the chorus of Heavenly pain could shatter glass. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be possible. Whoever held the puppet strings of this fucking awful new world had it in for Him, to bring back every bad decision and glimmer of doubt ever held by God Himself, if only to rub it in the face of the Almighty. He had never doubted himself, not truly, never doubted that the Plan was Just until he felt a horrifying echo of Lucifer’s own doubt on seeing Gabriel’s hollowed corpse. There’s nothing quite as shocking as the Devil having doubts, and so many things had come close to blowing a hole in His millennia-long convictions. He felt vaguely sick.

Chuck burrowed his head under the pillow, unable to breathe deeply enough to clear his head but hyperventilating until the dizziness grew painful. One hand fell, hit something that he groped for blindly, and he wished he could smile. Thank Whoever that he’d been on his way home from the liquor store when the Core rang the dinner bell.

His children’s death-rattles still echoed in his head, and there was no escape here.