Laughtrack

Player: @First Player

NAME: Jude Delaney
KNOWN ALIASES: Laughtrack
AGE: 33
OCCUPATION: Former(?) stand-up comedian
POWERS: Bio-electricity projection and electricity manipulation
ABILITIES:

• Improvisation fighting prowess
• Talented(?) comedian

Jude Delaney was already teetering on the wobbly barstool of sanity long before destiny tasered him in the face. The stand-up life will do that to you—especially when your audience is usually six confused regulars, one hostile stag-do, and a broken fruit machine that gets more laughs than you. He never set out to wear spandex; he just wanted a roomful of semi-drunk strangers to chuckle at his jokes rather than stare into their pints like they’d discovered the meaning of life at the bottom. Jude’s comedy had always been self-deprecating, manic, and a little too eager to bleed for a punchline. Then came the night the universe decided to workshop his material with special effects.

The venue was a shabby East London pub where the stage lighting had the ominous flicker of a horror movie basement. During a storm that should have cancelled every show in London except his—because of course—the heavens opened, pointed at Jude, and went “This one.” Jude was mid-routine—something self-deprecating about dating apps and the grim reaper of student loans—when a rogue lightning bolt crashed through the ceiling and treated his chest like a charging port, sending his nervous system on a nine-volt pilgrimage to the afterlife. Twelve seconds of dead. Long enough for his brain to get scrambled like pub eggs and reassembled with a few screws enthusiastically misplaced.

He woke up with electricity fizzing under his skin and a laugh track stitched into his soul. Not a cute one either—this wasn’t witty sitcom timing; this was the laughter of a studio audience that had seen too much and would laugh at anything. Pain, humiliation, heartbreak… if it stung, the giggles rolled out like a ghostly studio producer demanding “BIGGER!” It didn’t just follow Jude—it haunted the world around him. A muggers’ broken nose? Hysterical cackling. A breakup on a street corner? Rapturous applause. His life became a cosmic comedy special directed by a malicious deity with questionable boundaries.

The experience cracked Jude open in more ways than one. The electrocution peeled back the protective layers of sanity that most people keep screwed on tight. Electrified and existentially roasted, Jude did what any rational man with fresh superpowers and a fragile ego might do: he reinvented himself. And so, Laughtrack was born—a vigilante crackling with voltage, chaotic energy, and comedic timing sharp enough to slice bread. New Jude had fewer filters, more impulses, and a philosophy that life is either a joke you own or a joke that owns you. He chose the former, loudly, erratically, while riding a shopping trolley he’d electrified into a hovercraft.

⚡️Bio-Electricity Manipulation
Jude’s body is a living power station with the self-control of a toddler given espresso. He can generate, store, and discharge electricity in crackling bursts or precise zaps—anything from frying a lock to blasting a thug across a car park like a human Taser with jokes. His nervous system runs hotter than a kettle on Christmas morning, letting him boost his reflexes, sprint in voltage-charged dashes, magnetize metal objects, and short-circuit tech with a touch. With concentration (a rare commodity in his brain’s current state), he can shape electricity into arcs, whips, or makeshift rails to skate across rooftops in a blur of light and questionable decision-making. The downside? He needs to “recharge” after overexerting—usually via power sources, lightning storms, or very illegal interactions with streetlamps.

🔌Fighting Prowess?
Calling his fighting style “martial arts” is a diplomatic stretch. Jude battles like a caffeinated improv comic who forgot whether he’s in a bar brawl or auditioning for a slapstick remake of The Matrix. He mixes electric punches with prop-comedy energy, weaponizing whatever’s around: shopping trolleys, road cones, folding chairs—if it exists, he’s hit someone with it or ridden it into a wall. His greatest weapons are surprise, chaos, and a running commentary that confuses enemies long enough for him to zap them or accidentally defeat himself. The laugh track that haunts him often turns his fights into surreal episodes of paranormal stand-up, complete with audience reactions no one else can source. He’s not elegant, he’s not predictable, but he is wildly entertaining—and somehow, against statistical probability and basic electrical safety guidelines, it works.

Jude Delaney, pre-lightning, was a scrappy, self-deprecating comic with a heart that bruised easily but kept showing up anyway. He chased laughs like they were oxygen, using humor as both shield and weapon against a world that rarely laughed back. There was warmth in him, a genuine desire to connect, but also a gnawing insecurity that he wasn’t enough—funny enough, talented enough, worth enough. He leaned into sarcasm and self-mockery because it hurt less to joke about his failures than risk someone else doing it first. Jude was sharp, observant, anxiety-ridden, and always dancing on the edge of burnout, but he had soul. Messy, earnest, exhausted soul.

Laughtrack is what happens when Jude’s heart, brain, and comedic timing get struck by divine slapstick and partially rewired by chaos. His vigilante persona is manic, impulsive, and infused with a fearless “let’s see what happens if I press this” approach to life. He treats danger like an improv prompt, villains like hecklers, and crime-fighting like a surreal late-night set where the universe itself is the audience. Laughtrack is bolder, brasher, and far less tethered to sanity—equal parts electric gremlin, chaotic good court jester, and existential comedian who refuses to let fate have the last laugh. Underneath the manic shtick, though, Jude is still in there, craving meaning, trying to turn his cursed laugh track into a punchline he owns rather than suffers. He’s wild, unpredictable, strangely hopeful, and terrifyingly fun to watch… like if heroism got possessed by stand-up comedy and decided to do parkour.