Flare
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Height: 3' 5"
Weight: 97 lbs.
Species: Lion
Personality: Hot-tempered; Reckless
Strength: Persistent
Weakness: Loses control when enraged
Physical Capabilities: Extreme Strength
Powers: Fire
Favored Weapon: His axe.

Flare was at home, getting ready to call it a day. It was a regular night, just like any other. Flare was brushing his teeth when he saw several dark figures move across the street. He paid no attention, though, and continued with what he was doing. Several minutes later, he was paying a lot of attention. As he lay in bed, trying to drift to sleep, he became suddenly aware of a shrill whining. He tumbled out of bed and got dressed, completely unaware of the danger he was in. As Flare went to investigate this noise, he realized with a start that the noise was a fire alarm. Immediately recalling the routine fire escape he had been rehearsing for years, Flare made a dash for the front door. He escaped from his burning home at the last possible second, the entire building collapsing the instant he made it onto the front lawn. He heaved a sigh of relief. His house may have been burned to the ground, but atleast nobody was hurt. In spite of himself, Flare let out a laugh. The old place had been a dump anyway, and it didn't contain anything of value. Flare glanced around in all directions, searching eagerly for his parents. Needless to say, he didn't see them. He became anxious, facing for the first time in his life the possibility that his parents might not have survived. He looked feverishly for any sign of his mother or father, but they were nowhere to be found. Flare went looking everywhere, inquiring about the whereabouts of his parents to anyone he came across. After thirty minutes of relentless investigation, Flare collapsed to the ground, tears blurring his vision. Flare suddenly stopped crying as he was hit with a sudden realization, and a burning rage overcame him. He knew who'd done this. It had been those guys he'd seen out the window. It had to be them. It was his last rational thought as his mind became hazy and he gave in to the blind fury. The next thing he knew, he was standing right in front of the gang that struck fear into the hearts of every citizen this side of Kratix.

"Watcha doin' here, twerp?" The biggest one said. Flare remained silent. Not because of anger, or even because of fear, but because he didn't know the answer. Without warning, one of the gang's members lunged at Flare, grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, and shoved him against the wall. The apparent leader of the group addressed him again.
"I'm talkin' ta you, pipsqueak! Maybe your hearing don't work so well. I'll ask again. What are you doin' here?" He was in Flare's face now, and Flare could smell his breath. The aroma wasn't quite as nice as the local garbage dump. Flare panicked, waving his arms and legs in a desperate attempt to break free. By sheer chance, one of his blows landed, hitting the thug right in the face. He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose, but the other guy still had Flare pinned. He held him still while the other two members advanced. Flare had hurt their leader. Now he had to pay. He was saved by the rapidly intensifying sound of a siren. The gang recognized this noise all too well and decided it wasn't worth pounding the little guy to be sent to jail. They made a dash for the exits, but the place was already surrounded. In one last desperate attempt to escape, one of the group members pulled out a gun and aimed it at Flare's head. He yelled above the sirens.
"Yeah, that's right! I'm holding this kid, and if you don't beat it right now, I'll splatter his brains all over the inside of this room! You got to tha counta' three! One!..."
Flare closed his eyes and waited for the end.
"Two!..."
This was it.
"THREE!!!"

Flare heard a gun shot. He was dead. He waited for the pain, for the darkness, but none came. He looked around and saw the gangster that had been threatening to kill him. He lay on the ground, clutching his arm, which was bleeding profusely. The other members just stared, not being all to eager to attempt their fallen partner's stunt again. Three of the gangsters were dragged away to prison, the fourth sent to the hospital to check on his arm. Court was to be held the next week. Flare was asked to attend as a witness.

Things went terribly awry after that. The three thugs were about to be put away where they belonged when the fourth one showed up, his arm in a sling. He panned the police for shooting him and threatened to sue the department. The police, their funding already being so low because of budget cuts, wouldn't have been able to afford a lawsuit and were forced to let the group go free. Flare was stunned, shocked, and, more than anything, outraged. Flare now had a purpose to his life. He now harbored a hatred in his heart for every punk, every criminal on the planet. Flare wanted to hurt them, wanted to kill them. However, he knew that he couldn't. He knew that his parents wouldn't have wanted that. Flare knew what he had to do, and that was to control his anger, the hardest endeavor he would make in his entire life. And he knew in his heart that he wouldn't be able to do it.

This seems more like a narrative then a backstory. I know, I should talk, but seriously. Make it a bit more definite at the end.

Chip
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Species: Monkey
Height: 3' 7"
Weight: 73 lbs.
Personality: Cheerful
Strength: High Morale
Weakness: Not too bright
Physical Capabilities: Exceeding Endurance
Powers: Nature
Favored Weapon: His staff.

FOR THE LAST f*** TIME, YOU REQUIRE *YEARS AMONG YEARS* OF PRACTICE TO BE A f*** MARTIAL ARTS MASTER. In a year, you would be an orange belt, perhaps green depending on your skill, BUT CERTAINLY NOT A YEAR OF PRACTICE.

Besides, it's this little thing called a f*** "Human". Look it up, fur-fag.

Hrm... Considering that he had nothing to do all day but practice his martial arts... I think its pretty safe to say that he would be pretty good within a year.

BANG! No matter how good he is with a staff and KA-RA-TE he can't dodge a bullet! And I know guns exist in this reality, I read Flare's bio.

And Kyzak is right be realistic... when's the last time you seen a green karate monkey? Try a normal human out, having a flaw in a character is what keeps them entertaining.

He does have a flaw. He's gullible.

And did I ever say the thugs he beat up had guns?

Because he's totally going to believe some made up s*** from a supervillian. Yeah. No, shut the f*** up and get out of the section. Just because you have grammar doesn't mean any of these bios are anywhere near good. Infact, even Chaos Controller's are better then these..

These are bad even for sonic characters, don't deny it I know they are.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooo. They aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare? Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?

No. That is complete s***.

Yes.

last time you said "generic race is generic" to someone who made a human

anyways, the second one sounds like a badly written child story. Short sentences, everything is so simple, and theres a green talking monkey.

Sarcasm is a foreign language to you, isn't it.

I know the green monkey one sucks. I had a... momentary lapse in logical thought.

Momentary is a gross understatement, fur-fag. If you want to take part of an amateur/complete f*** idiot hour, go to Toonbarn. Otherwise, sit down, shut the f*** up, and listen to any advice you may actually get; depends if you stop being such a dick.

I'll say this now; I'm quite merciful to people who aren't idiots. You're on thin ice until I get to know you, and often times people stomp on the f*** ice with f*** cleats while sucking off Ronald Ragen. You, sir, are one of those people.