User:TronX7

Hello, I'm TronX7. You'll most likely find me editing or commenting on different pages on this wiki. I am interested in Poptropica (obviously) and Portal. Contact me if you'd like on my message wall. Nothing's wrong with your screen either. I was just messing around with font colors.

About me
Meh, skip this.

About my Poptropican(s)
One thing-I have five accounts. Gentle Onion is my main.►

The reason I have five accounts is because I'm not the type of person who lets go of things real easily. You could say I'm an account hoarder.


 * Gentle Onion (age:17) is my oldest account which I have been playing with pretty much since Poptropica was released. He falls asleep a lot and is the leader of 'the five' as I like to call the group. He falls asleep so much he has to be waken up by Bashful Onion in order to get almost anything done when they're not doing a quest. He is very good-natured and skilled with a knife. He and his sister Bashful Onion both have metal robotic wings but Gentle Onion rarley uses them unless in an emergency. He doesn't use them because of how he got them. What happened that led to him having metallic wings in his past he won't say.


 * Bashful Onion (age:15) is the second oldest account I have and I made her to be like a sibling to G.O. She loves music and is a pretty good DJ. Just like her bro, she's kind. She uses self-defense techniques and her own strength and skill to fight. She's second in command if you know what I mean. Unlike her brother she uses her wings more often. She won't say how she or her brother got them saying she promised her bro not to tell and the only hint she was allowed to give is 'We are of Seraphim tribe for a reason'.


 * Fierce Fire (age:14) I made to be a friend to G. & B.O. He's the wildest of them all to put in a story perspective and is almost never in a serious mood. He's skilled with a sword and is a good person to nominate as pirate captain. Despite being older, he often acts more immature than Cool Owl or Mad Fire, who both have to pull him back on track sometimes. He's extremely mischievous and will play pranks on many people, even if the possibility of playing a prank on them is outrageous. Despite how outgoing he is, he is extremely wary of strangers and others he doesn't know very well. It takes a lot of time to warm up to him. The amount of time depends on who you are. This is mostly in defense of his sister Mad Fire whom he restricts interaction with others besides friends.


 * Mad Fire (age:13) I made for the same reason I made Bashful Onion-To be a sister to Fire- but was mostly made because I was bored. She's skilled with machinery and creates weapons for defense as well as fixes things during her spare time. She's not as mischievous as her brother but will sometimes join him in his pranks if they are harmless and she's in the mood. She cares about her friends and brother. She thinks her brother too restricting sometimes with the whole interaction thing but is aware he does it for her safety.


 * Cool Owl (age:13) has a very cruel past as he was made originally as a test poptropican. It'd be easier to explain him in a story perspective:Cool Owl was originally a randomizer test victim, changed countless times making his true identity lost to never be returned. He was only able to get through because of his sister(yeah, he had a sister too my mind's crazy). Both of them got through the experimentation alive but only days after their survival, Owl's sister disappeared and never came back. Shocked by his sister's loss, Owl searched for days and days but came up fruitless. He stopped looking once his sister was filed 'dead' instead of 'missing'. He then wandered on the streets thinking his only fate was to die there. Luckily, Gentle Onion and his friends saw Owl on the streets. Recognizing him from the news, they asked if he would like to come with them on their journey of completing all the quests Poptropica had to offer. Cool Owl gladly accepted and has been with them ever since to keep himself from losing it completely. Some nights he suffers from insomnia having nostalgia of his sister but he doesn't tell his friends as to not worry them.

On a side note, all of them are friends with each other & everyone plays games as a sort of hobby. Opponents primarily consist of each other, Abe, and some other friends.

My Favorite Villains
1. Director Dangerous/The guy in a white tux/The Director/ DIRECTOR!!!!!

2. Mr. Tinface/Cyborg/Jester guy/Binary Bard/Mordred

3. Mister Peg-leg/Crawfish/The other guy with a battleship/I'm a pirate but I can't swim/Captain Crawface

4. Villain with a thousand names/Sand Spider/White Widow/Black Widow

5. The Easter Bunny/Bunny Rabbit/Mr. Snuggles/Pinkie/Four eyes/Carrot lover/Fluffles/Pillow pet/The pink fuzzy hare guy that's obsessed with orange carrots

My contributions

 * User contributions

Sandbox
Do not mind anything here, this is a sandbox. I leave stuff here for reference later. The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read,

beneath the long straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

for the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,

a young boy, out of breath, approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down,

and said with great excitement, “Look what I’ve found!”

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful site,

with its pedals all worn out, not enough rain or too little light.

Wanting the young boy to take his dead flower and run off and play,

I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side,

and placed the flower into his nose and declared with overactive surprise,

“It sure smells pretty, and it’s beautiful too,

that’s why I picked it, here, it’s for you.”

The weed before me was dying or dead,

not vibrant of colour, orange, yellow or red.

But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave!

So I reached for the flower and said, “Just what I need.”

But instead of placing the flower in my hand,

he held it in mid-air without any reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time,

that weed toting boy could not see, he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun,

as I thanked him for picking the very best one.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled and then ran off to play;

unaware of the impact he had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see,

a self-pitying woman under an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart he had blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child at last I could see,

the problem wasn’t with the world, the problem was me.

And for all those times I, myself, had been blind,

I vowed to see the beauty in life,

and appreciate every second that’s mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose,

and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose,

and smiled as I watched that young boy,

another weed in his hand,

about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

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   the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog    

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