Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Real Name: Jake Smith
Gimmick Name: Jacoby Capone (Juh-coh-bee)
Nickname: The Subculture Savior
Height: 6’3
Weight: 242
Hometown: St. Louis, Missouri
Billed From: Portland, Oregon
Appearance:
----------------Hair Colour/Length: Shaggy, shoulder-length, poorly-maintained, brown hair
----------------Eye Colour: Hazel
----------------Facial Hair: Very patchy, thin stubble along jaw line
----------------Ring attire: Black headband holding back wild hair. Faded black jeans that fit tightly, held up by a pearly white belt. White tape is used on both wrists, with black tapes around the edges. Small black elbow pads are used. Prior to the match, Capone wears a grey zip-up jacket with a black hood and black sleaves. It’s always half-way zipped up, exposing the shirt of various bands, commonly being Nirvana, The Pixies, The Melvins or Radiohead. Wrestles shirtless allowing waistband of black boxers to show.
----------------Backstage Attire: Faded black jeans and band t-shirts. A silver chain and snapback trucker cap turned to the back.
----------------Physical Features: Not a muscular guy, but very filled out and fit. Able to endure physical pain well. Cardio is a top trait.
----------------Tattoos: along his right side in Old English style writing reads “Exist to inspire.” Also inside of his left forearm is a Christian cross.
Alignment: heel
Main Gimmick: Jacoby Capone is a definite hipster. Capone is often critical of any of the pop culture recommendations or interest of the other entertainers he’s around, considering his own interests superior. This causes him to backtrack on his likes when others begin to share his views as he can’t stand being a part of something too mainstream. Capone is quite ignorant about his hipster ways though. It’s a natural trait he has. Capone doesn’t go out of his way to make enemies, but simply can’t help himself when he hears or sees something he disapproves of. Although, when he finds himself confronted with conflict, he’s 100% committed to fighting his oppressor, cutting promos about their embarrassing tastes and terrible talent. He also considers the crowds at live events as a whole to be, “Mainstream minions who listen to Lil Wayne and wear American Eagle polos and let the society make up their own minds.”
2 Characteristics of Gimmick: Critical of other’s views on music, fashion, and politics; often used as a way around tough interview questions. Capone is quite ignorant to the fact that he’s despised by wrestlers and fans alike; he seems to think he’s respected for his independent views and ways, only to agitate everyone further as carries on.
Strengths/Weaknesses (3 of each):
Strengths:
1) Quick and versatile in the ring. 2) Obsessive over opponents, studies their habits, in and out of the ring. Uses this to harm them during the ring and on mic. 3) Capone actually has something he’s fighting for; everyday is a battle to him overcoming the society’s disgusting tastes, causing him to never be satisfied and always has something fresh to gripe about and oppose, resulting in fresh material on the mic and during promos every time out.
Weaknesses:
1) Cannot overpower the heavyweights. 2) Ignorance towards his agitating ways results in many enemies and few friends/allies. 3) Too deeply committed to his personal views rather than in ring accomplishments.
Sample Pic of Wrestler:
Brief History: While he’d always been linked to pure athleticism, he’d never wanted to sell out and participate in mainstream sports like football and basketball. Capone was attracted to wrestling because of its tie to his strong musical culture as he is able to express himself by the moves he performs, the way he conducts himself on the mic, and his appearance.
Entrance Music: [youtube]dLCZhQX_Fm0[/youtube]
Entrance Description: Capone’s theme plays out for awhile before he walks out as the song picks up. Capone slowly prances from the curtain with a smirk on his face and hood from his jacket up. He inaudibly begins yelling at groups of fans. He spins on his heel in a show-off fashion followed by a brisk jog to the ring. Capone then climbs a single turnbuckle where he unzips his jacket, gestures to the band on his shirt, then removes the shirt and tosses it to the ground. Lightshow consists of flashing and alternating red and white lights throughout the arena, while a main spotlight is focused on him.
Finishing Moves:
Needle Drop: (the same move known as Cop Killa)
The Vinyl Splash: (corkscrew Swanton)
15 Most Used Moves:
1) Side Effect
2) Spinning Wheelhouse
3) Flying Lariat
4) Leg drop to groin
5) Samoan Drop
6) Bear Hug
7) Arm drag
8) Second rope leg drop
9) Knee drop (to head, legs, or arms)
10) Russian Leg Sweep
11) Scoop Slam
12) Curb Stomp
13) Running senton splash
14) Fireman’s Carry
15) Sunset flip
Sample RP.
Jacoby Capone was sitting alone in the bleachers of an empty, unlit high school football stadium. Only the moonlight allowed details of Capone’s appearance to be revealed; he was wearing faded black jeans and attached to the end of the legs were black and white shoes of an unknown designer. His right foot was propped up on his left knee and was wagging in the air to the rhythm protruding from ear buds in his ears. Capone suddenly snapped out of his reminiscent daze. He merely removed his left ear bud and flipped down his black hood, exposing shaggy brown hair, but did not acknowledge the presence of the camera. He dropped his foot from his leg then leaned forward and clasped his hands together while his eyes remained focused on something in the distance. Jacoby exhaled a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.
“This stadium seats 2,500 people. The men that suit up and play here every Friday night of the Fall season are heroes around these parts. Pshh…”
Jacoby ran a hand through the bangs of his wild hair, and without giving attention to his action, removed his iPod from his hoodie pocket and gave it a click. The glow of the screen went black and the music ceased.
“Heroes. They ALL begged me to play. I have the size - I’m fast, I’m smart..I’m, well. I’m a God gifted athlete. But I’m no hero. I don’t know, I just don’t feel obligated to be part of a team. I don’t want to hear thousands cheering for me, They aren’t cheering for me! They’re cheering for themselves, they want their team to win, THEY. WANT. to win. No, me? I’m a team of one. I compete for myself.I’m not a charity. I don’t need the approval of a damn person to know what’s good for myself. No. I don’t want anyone’s approval when not a PERSON has a CLUE as to what’s good for themselves!"
Sweat began to glisten above Capone’s top lip and a single bead was running down his left jaw, leaving a shiny trail reflecting the light of the moon. A car with a particularly loud motor whizzed by on the road behind the bleachers blaring a very popular rap song that all the kids from his school beloved. Immature voices screamed out of the windows of the car. Jacoby tugged at the collar of his shirt, eyes remaining focused towards the distance.
“This stadium,” whispers Jacoby, “seats 2,500 people. The people who fill these seats…are football fans. I’ve developed an alternate term for them though, I call them inmates. They’re incarcerated by the bars that society built around them. I for one slipped between the bars a long time ago before society had the chance to narrow the gap making future escapes impossible. Now I’m on the outside and I ain’t lookin in. Rather, I’m looking out for myself.”
Capone returned the dangling ear bud and tucked it into his left ear again. The music was still on halt.
“This stadium could have made me a legend in high school. I coulda rode my fame all the way to college. But I’m no hero. This,” he gestures toward the field, “this isn’t a football field. It’s a burial grounds where society’s minions have come to kill off the last piece of independence they own. I made my choice for myself. I chose independence.”
Music returned to his ear buds again and he slumped into his bleacher seat, falling deeper into his gaze.
“This stadium seats 2,500 people. The men that suit up and play here every Friday night of the Fall season are heroes around these parts. Pshh…”
Jacoby ran a hand through the bangs of his wild hair, and without giving attention to his action, removed his iPod from his hoodie pocket and gave it a click. The glow of the screen went black and the music ceased.
“Heroes. They ALL begged me to play. I have the size - I’m fast, I’m smart..I’m, well. I’m a God gifted athlete. But I’m no hero. I don’t know, I just don’t feel obligated to be part of a team. I don’t want to hear thousands cheering for me, They aren’t cheering for me! They’re cheering for themselves, they want their team to win, THEY. WANT. to win. No, me? I’m a team of one. I compete for myself.I’m not a charity. I don’t need the approval of a damn person to know what’s good for myself. No. I don’t want anyone’s approval when not a PERSON has a CLUE as to what’s good for themselves!"
Sweat began to glisten above Capone’s top lip and a single bead was running down his left jaw, leaving a shiny trail reflecting the light of the moon. A car with a particularly loud motor whizzed by on the road behind the bleachers blaring a very popular rap song that all the kids from his school beloved. Immature voices screamed out of the windows of the car. Jacoby tugged at the collar of his shirt, eyes remaining focused towards the distance.
“This stadium,” whispers Jacoby, “seats 2,500 people. The people who fill these seats…are football fans. I’ve developed an alternate term for them though, I call them inmates. They’re incarcerated by the bars that society built around them. I for one slipped between the bars a long time ago before society had the chance to narrow the gap making future escapes impossible. Now I’m on the outside and I ain’t lookin in. Rather, I’m looking out for myself.”
Capone returned the dangling ear bud and tucked it into his left ear again. The music was still on halt.
“This stadium could have made me a legend in high school. I coulda rode my fame all the way to college. But I’m no hero. This,” he gestures toward the field, “this isn’t a football field. It’s a burial grounds where society’s minions have come to kill off the last piece of independence they own. I made my choice for myself. I chose independence.”
Music returned to his ear buds again and he slumped into his bleacher seat, falling deeper into his gaze.
