Chief Petty Officer Richard Meagher
Name Richard Evan Meagher [Folami]
Rank Chief Petty Officer
Character Information
| Gender | Male | |
| Species | Human | |
| Age | 23 |
Physical Appearance
| Height | 1.8 m | |
| Weight | 77 kg | |
| Hair Color | Brown | |
| Eye Color | Brown | |
| Physical Description | Ricky is a well built sort of fellow on the short side of the measuring stick. He works out to impress the ladies, and has been known to dress well. Usually he prefers casual clothing, though, and his mother was always on his case to get it laundered (though his stint in Starfleet academy did hammer into him a need for professional cleanliness). He has a rakish smile, and usually unruly brown hair, and brown eyes. Circling his wrists, he has a set of vertical scars from a pair of cuffs he wore during a poorly-thought-out game of chicken involving heat and metal and an utter lack of common sense. Ricky looks absolutely horrible in pink. Don't ask how he discovered that. |
Family
| Father | Toole Meagher | |
| Mother | Lisa | |
| Other Family | Ricky's family is enormous, for both his mother and his father have several siblings, but they are all rather stuffy and proper and Rick can't stand them. Besides, they are the type of people who prefer their feet to be firmly locked to the ground, so Rick doesn't associate with them very much. |
Personality & Traits
| General Overview | Ricky is an adventurer. All his life he's tried new things: food, activities, places, clothes, games, anything he had never done. He comes from a rich family, so he had the means to achieve his goals of attempting new things. Ricky smiles a lot, and laughs a lot, and also is prone to shouting. He has been likened to a rocket in a box or a bullet fired in a tunnel, because of his usually high levels of energy. This earned him the nickname "Ricochet," given to him by his best friend. Ricky is a very personable, very social fellow, who makes some sort of contact with everyone he meets. He's a ladies' man, and has difficulty with commitment. Ricky tends towards ennui if stuck in the same routine for overmuch time. Prior to entry into Starfleet, Ricky would do anything to relieve the boredom. A common excuse of his is "it seemed like a good idea at the time." Ricky is a fairly intelligent guy, but prefers society to academia. He is greatly skilled at thinking on his feet, and fears very little. He tends to shoot first and ask questions later. When he's not being a nincompoop, he is prone to bouts of clarity and cleverness, and once he is familiar to [you] he is a dependable, sweet, loyal companion. But he's usually being a nincompoop. Nicknames include: Ricky, Rick, Hot Sauce, Ricochet, Riffraff, Riff, Raff, or RICHARD EVAN MEAGHER. |
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| Strengths & Weaknesses | Strengths include social interactions and spitting long distances. Weaknesses include submitting to authority and dealing with medical personnel. |
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| Ambitions | Tomfoolery; shenanigans; malarkey; keeping his job (and maybe charming his way into a promotion) | |
| Hobbies & Interests | Tomfoolery; extreme embroidery (he invented it); slapstick; testing boundaries | |
| Languages | Federation Standard; Langue d'Oc |
| Personal History | Ricky was born into a well-to-do family. As a young child, he was the center of attention and had many friends. He always wanted to be an astronaut like those of 20th century earth, and kept a telescope trained on the moon in his bedroom. In his teenage years he got on his father's nerves with relative ease, as his father was grooming him to take his place in the family company and Rick had little or no interest in it. When he was nineteen, Ricky emptied his trust fund and took off with a couple of his close friends to go have a good time anywhere but here. His travels took him all over the quadrant, but he mostly stuck to the highly-populated civilizations, where it was more likely to find girls. It was during these travels that he sustained his scars, from the ill-advised game of chicken using devices meant for alien skin only. The cuffs that burned Rick were part of some obscure marriage ceremony of a rather warlike species he encountered in a bar on his travels, and his friends persuaded him and the owner of the cuffs to try them on, which was clearly unwise. When Rick returned to his home, penniless and well-traveled, his father nearly had an aneurism, cleaned his errant son up and then drop-kicked him into Starfleet to get him to clear up his act. Then he pulled strings to get him assigned to the most boring job he could think of: Transport Chief. |
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| Service Record | Ensign, transport USS Jenolan |