I've made up characters here and there, and this page documents a number of them at least, from their purpose to powers, and maybe some history. Not all of these characters can be considered "active", but could appear in works from time to time.
Characters based on my probably original ideas, though inspiration probably came from somewhere.
Reference available (Updated 1/13/2021)
The primary role of this robot is that of my robosona, or mascot in certain places. His eye visor is capable of a variety of expressions, including a friendly wink or an emulated blink. Hand gestures such as pointing or thumbs up are often used as signs of approval. He also enjoys unusual fashion and growing dance skills. While normally retracted, his feet can be projected as far as down to ground level, if floating at a usual comfortable height, forming energy legs in between.
An ant determined to win every race he's in, he resorts to measures like excessively gigantic jet engines strapped to a set of wheels, but is sane enough to consider safety measures in his vehicles. He loves to put flame decals on everything as it's supposedly proven to make things go faster. He also loves to show off the awards he's won and typically carries at least a couple around at any time, in an attempt to impress anyone encountering him.
Hailing from a world full of fluffy creatures, Fluffynut (real identifier BOF-1721) was among the absolute fluffiest there, owing their status to a condition where their coat regrows very rapidly, making them intensely hot and sweaty during the planet's hot season. On the plus side, this enabled them to groom frequently to keep from smelling terrible, and even making quite a few units on the side exporting what they shed or shaved from their coat. Hauling these crates of excess fluff to the spaceport built their strength, and when demand dropped for fluff, they looked into intergalactic wrestling circuits to keep in relative shape. Nobody knows the exact ratio of fluff to muscle to fat, but whatever their true physique, they make quite a show in the ring, with aggression that defies that absolutely adorable face.
Their finisher, Fluffocation, is considered to be what amounts to a giant grapple, possibly a hug by some, but to the point where muscle and fluff work together to immobilize the opponent, and any latent stench from sweat, fresh or dried, secures the knockout. Fluffynut is not proud of the exact mechanics of this finisher and hits the showers for quite some time after a grueling match. They also forbid any paparazzi from seeing them all wet and soggy as that's one of the most dishonorable conditions from their homeworld, so they keep an industrial-strength heat fan nearby as needed.
Glirith may have a sturdy build that might do well in a fight, but he's at his best in the mess hall, cooking up all sorts of hearty meals. Well, he would be doing that if he wasn't cursed to have every single food he cooks turn into cupcakes the moment he's finished. He's not sure exactly where or how he picked up the curse, but it's been a stick in his side for years, and he's hoping to find a crew that might stumble upon the cure. At least it's been long enough for him to find ways to make the cupcakes a bit more useful in nutrition than a typical pastry, such as loading them with citrus to help the crew stave off scurvy, but they're still cupcakes. When he's not anguishing in the mess hall over his limited menu, he can prove to be a decent muscle on the ship, loading cannonballs, throwing invaders overboard, hauling up treasure, and whatever other heavy tasks a pirate's life may bring, as well as heavy drinking of whatever drinks are on board, even just fresh water or soda, as thirst on the high seas in the hot sun runs rampant.
Acting as an invisible friend to those who need some comfort, this remarkably plump serpent-like creature floats around with hardly any other care in the world, and is unfazed by just about anything thrown their way. It is unknown if they sport any other expression aside from pure contentment, and if someone did manage to aggravate this peaceful creature, the consequences would probably be significant at least, and comes definitely not recommended. With two moderate-length pawed appendages often resting on their girthy torso, they could even be considered designed for hugs. Those who are very weary may end up resting on Pata's stomach as if it was a bed, and Pata will do their best to avoid disturbing the sleeper, though they may need to travel elsewhere in the meantime.
Pata-based designs can be considered symbols of peace, whether worn as clothing or posted on a surface, and should not be used paired with ill intent, or those who follow Pata, or Pata themself, may inflict a punishment of consequence unknown. Said punishment could just be the shame inflicted upon one for trying to hijack a peaceful symbol for maliciousness, or worse.
Philate was once a dungeon guard, but moved to working as a bouncer for taverns. They would eventually like to find a soulmate that doesn't end up becoming a meal, drawing the line between an embrace and an engulfing action. Before cleaning up their life and claiming a name, they were much more melty and weaker in combat, but Philate has hardened as much as a gelatin-like creature can do so, and can now withstand some serious blows. This increase of strength also comes with a newfound maturity as they continue to escape the dungeon life.
A once-general purpose robot, hardly if at all taller than an average human child, trained in street combat from the moment of his initial boot, Stiki (nickname for STK-1117) knows hardly anything other than survival in the arena. Between knowledge of how to best stab and bash a robot and to avoid serious damage himself, he's well-worn from his previous battles. His prized weapon is a hand-crafted electrified superheated knife, capable of causing a bit of extra damage to nearly anything that isn't chilled. Failing that, he can bash an opponent with brute force tackles and headbutts. The insulated wire cage surrounding his hardened glass viewscreen keeps it from breaking as easily, but is hardly ever seen intact and has been replaced multiple times. One historic fight was won by a slim margin involving blindly slicing at the opponent's exposed wires with a fragment of his broken screen. He has been known to gather a small sample of any mechanical or even battery fluids his opponent has spilled in their defeat for his personal collection.
On his off-time, Stiki obsessively watches recorded fights, especially of those involving upcoming opponents to spot weaknesses. If he can't manage to dig up any fight footage, he'll find other footage to try to spot their behaviors. If that turns up empty, he will even resort to spying on them himself, but he's terrible at hiding. When he's not reviewing strategies or stalking his future prey, he ponders possible retirement goals and what he might actually want outside of fights. He's attempted a few side jobs in search of other passions, and does better in ones where his appearance won't scare off clients and involve not-quite-precision cuts. Despite this, starring roles in slasher robot movies are hard to come by. He still finds the most satisfaction in cutting down another robot in the arena, so the best sense of retirement for him may just be promotion to a tougher arena.
Characters based in or on other properties, however they were developed. Not necessarily characters developed to play as in a video game save file.
Reference available (Updated 1/30/2009)
Born in a lab somewhere, this hybrid Pokémon digs a den somewhere and hoards whatever he can find. Shy, yet witty when confronted, he tries to not immediately get others to distrust him despite his hoarding nature and dumpster diving tendencies. He tends to connect more with Pokémon who live in the ground or are insects due to his habits and physiology.
BIRD takes his name from how he loves how that word sounds, especially when yelled. He has been yelled at on occasion for being short and underfoot at times. However, when he does get down to a fight, he absolutely loves a job well done. He's trusted his bladed bird-headed stick, or what he can amount to calling his "STABBING", to do some damage, though it's often used more in a slashing attack. When that doesn't work, he bites, and bites hard. Under his cloak, he has some solid plate armor hiding to put off anyone thinking he's an easy hit, but is still as light on his feet as he can be. He has excellent night sight despite having some odd eyes, occasionally mismatched in dilation, driving home the "totally off his rocker" look. His patchy brown feathers on an otherwise near-black coat are at times mistaken for dirt, but he's not the type to roll around in filth, actually preferring to stay clean between adventures. He's also been known to play dead in certain situations, even in futile attempts to get out of monotonous work.
A known tavern loiterer, known most at the tavern he happens to be at the time, when he's not out traveling in a party as a Monk-for-hire. Oddly apathetic for a Dragonborn, he attempts to avoid bar fights, but they tend to find him. Sometimes it happens when a party is looking for another member, only to his benefit when he feels like skipping town. His well-worn nunchaku paired with a free hand are his weapons of choice, with the occasional kick. As a backup he has his Draconic Acid breath weapon, often mistaken for a drunken vomit when he does have to resort to it. He'd prefer to not be mistaken for a drunkard, despite his tavern loitering habits and his outwardly soft physique, draped in a light red vest with no undershirt and tan pants below, lacking shoes. If asked, he'll have an anecdote about a past adventure, but he's not one to brag. He tries to go prepared, but sometimes forgets to pack enough snacks for himself.
While not that old in Loxodon age, he's still lived quite some time and is tired with dealing with whatever it is he deals with on a regular basis, so he's quick to lay down the law, even if he's not following it. Not many know exactly what he deals with typically because they're afraid to ask. This also goes for why there's a cup often stuck on his head. If the thought of trying to take on the barrel-bodied elephant in the room wasn't enough of a bad idea, he also has a dagger on him at all times, even in his sleep and in the bath. He likes to be covered, at least in the sense of preparedness and being able to make a quick-as-he-possibly-can-be getaway, though he's more the type to be told to hold off the forces on a job while the more fleet run for it. As far as physical coverage, there's not as much, no thanks to his well-worn tattered outfit that probably goes through the wash far less often than he does, consisting of a very worn tank top and stretched-out red shorts showing most of his legs, down to his bare feet. At least he takes better care of his blade and his tusks. On his downtime, he frequents shady bars more to get away from the crowds than for the drink quality, though he still enjoys a bit of the local selection.