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Feb. 3rd, 2012 11:46 pmPlayer:
Name: Green
Age: 22
Contact: cleananovencleanme @ gmail dot com
Character:
Name: Alfred Walker
Age: 30
Birthday: 28th August
Country of origin: England
Reason for flight: To visit family.
Personality: The word "stoic" might have been invented for Alfred. He rarely smiles and takes most trouble head on without word of complaint. Some might take offence at his bluntness and apparent lack of any positivity. The fact of the matter is, he just doesn't understand or feel comfortable with people who feel the need to throw all of their emotions and complaints out in the open. Airing one's dirty laundry in public is definitely not his thing. He'd much prefer to bottle everything up and swallow his anger. It means there's a fairly solid block of resentment deep down inside, which is ever growing. Still, should he ever feel the need to implode, he's more the type to just go off, drink in the corner with a friend and silently push his misery all the way down, then forget about it.
Alfred's ability to just forget about it underpins his essential good nature. A person hurting him will not lead to him forgetting their actions, but unless they've done something truly disgusting, he's likely to forgive them quickly after he stews for a bit, then just get on with his life. He'll take whatever lessons he's learned from past encounters and store them away for future reference, but he's not the type to hold a grudge about it. He's very thick skinned.
Alfred will easily face any problem head on and shoulder anyone else's burdens - so long as they weren't caused by him. It's not that he has an issue with admitting when he's wrong. It's more that he just doesn't like to be confronted by his own failures; if he's fucked up he doesn't want a reminder. If he's failed at something he likes to remove himself completely, just so he doesn't have to deal with it. He understands he's done wrong. He doesn't need it hammered in, is his thought process.
Huge shows of emotion make him uncomfortable. So do the following: admitting to any feelings - to himself or others - loud noises (or people), public speaking or speaking in front of more than two people and physical contact with anyone who is not related to him. His list of dislikes and things that make him uncomfortable seems to stretch a million miles. This might make him seem picky, but in truth he's easily pleased; give him space, silence and solitude, or one or two people to drink with - they don't even have to be friends - and he'll be content enough to last for a while.
His own sense of identity is pulled in bits and pieces from the roles he's played over the years. Brother, friend, occasional lover, he tends to learn some way of behaving from his major personal relationships and add it to his identity as he goes. He's thirty already but still feels like he's not quite a finished picture yet. He's more a collage.
In short, he's a solemn stoic with simple pleasures.
Appearance: Alfred's hair has faded slightly from the bright colour it was when he was a child to mere strawberry blonde. It's almost constantly in a state of bedhead; he doesn't so much brush his hair as run a hand through it and go. He doesn't mind it sticking up at awkward angles; generally speaking he's not aware of his hair and doesn't know why anyone would be. Mirrors are for other people. Usually he avoids his reflection - who wants to see that tiny mouth? Or his mother's long pointy nose sticking out of the middle of his father's face? His combination of features is, in his opinion, awkward and strange. His eyes are a striking green and stand out from the rest of his face - he likes them best.
His face isn't used to moving the muscles needed to smile and that's clear whenever he does it. His face looks far better in its natural frown; when he smiles it looks like someone is tugging on the corners of his mouth. His teeth are, like any stereotypical Englishman's, yellow and a little crooked, so he smiles even less than his nature allows, just to make sure they don't show. Five months in America is getting to him. At least he's slightly taller than average at 5'11, even if his build is only average. He needs to work out more, but he goes to the gym once every two weeks and lifts a few weights. That's enough, right? He's healthy, after all.
Clothing-wise, he pulls on whatever is available, even if it clashes horribly or is an unsuitable colour. He has absolutely no eye for fashion. His trainers have holes in the toes now, where his feet poke through, and most of his socks need darning. Who cares? So long as he's covered he is comfortable.
PB: Arthur Darvill
History: Being as Alfred is, a perfectly average young man, it should come as no surprise that he was born to perfectly average parents. His father was a history professor who named his three sons after various old kings; Alfred came first, then Henry, with George as the youngest. George was always babied and spoiled by brothers and parents alike; Henry was a tearaway who longed for a more exciting world than surburbia and went out in search of it with drink and drugs. Alfred kept to his studies and did his best to look after his brothers. He didn't mind being the boring, responsible brother. He couldn't picture himself in any other role.
Eventually, his brothers grew up. George could look after himself and Henry had grown wiser. His parents weren't so old they needed someone around to constantly check up on them. Alfred took up the role of a distant, but dutiful son, checking in with them every once in a while. In the meantime, he went wandering, far from his London home. After graduating with a degree in English literature, his luck with jobs never seemed any good, and after a few months he seemed to find himself unemployed once more. His reaction was generally to move counties, the further away from that failure the better. After his latest termination, at a software firm in Manchester, he was about ready to completely hop planets just so he wouldn't have to bear the hundred to one potential of running into his boss again and feeling awkward for about five minutes.
His girlfriend, an American who'd moved over briefly to attend school and had never gone back, convinced him to stay on Earth. Instead of Jupiter, they moved to LA.
America didn't have the social customs that Alfred enjoyed - drinking as a social thing rather than to get drunk, for instance, and they drove on the wrong side of the road and the sports were odd and didn't involve his beloved Arsenal and goodness if talking about your feelings was an Olympic sport they'd win it every time had nobody heard of the stiff upper lip? - but it did have his girlfriend. And for a while, that was enough. But the stresses of uprooting to another country and his difficulty in finding a job despite his English literature degree and vast knowledge of poems added to the usual strains on relationships. She suggested that if he was so unhappy in America he could fuck off.
Off he fucked.
With nowhere to go, living in a motel and anxious to leave the country that had been the scene of his latest failure, Alfred called his family and, for perhaps the first time in his adult life, had a long talk with his father about his feelings. His father had a brother living in Australia he suggested might be willing to take him in and get him a job, or at least a place to stay for a few weeks.
And so, thinking that perhaps talking about one's feelings and anxieties might not be so bad, Alfred boarded a plane bound for Sydney.
He is currently regretting everything.
Special skills: Boy scouts taught him how to build a fire and basic shelter. Is decent at fixing things up and woodwork.
Strengths: Always calm, decently strong, protective, deals with people a lot easier than he thinks he does, easily contented.
Weaknesses: Blunt, closed off, no practical survival skills, cowardly when it comes to problems he causes, overprotective at times, gets lost easily.
Misc: When it comes to his resentment and inner annoyance, Alfred generally needs some form of outlet before he explodes. On land it was going out for the occasional drink with friends. With no alcohol, he's going to need to find something that relaxes him, whether it's building his own distillery using coconuts or starting a fight club.
Inventory: Jumper, shirt and trousers. Socks (holes in both heels and right big toe). Trainers (scuffed, holes all over). Wallet (containing driver's license, bank cards, a condom and some money) and passport. iPhone. His waterproof carry on bag including: Catch-22, Kafka on the Shore and A Farewell to Arms as well as two bars of Hershey chocolates, a digital camera, a bottle of water, a small booklamp, two pairs of boxers, two pairs of socks, a toothbrush and toothpaste.
Name: Green
Age: 22
Contact: cleananovencleanme @ gmail dot com
Character:
Name: Alfred Walker
Age: 30
Birthday: 28th August
Country of origin: England
Reason for flight: To visit family.
Personality: The word "stoic" might have been invented for Alfred. He rarely smiles and takes most trouble head on without word of complaint. Some might take offence at his bluntness and apparent lack of any positivity. The fact of the matter is, he just doesn't understand or feel comfortable with people who feel the need to throw all of their emotions and complaints out in the open. Airing one's dirty laundry in public is definitely not his thing. He'd much prefer to bottle everything up and swallow his anger. It means there's a fairly solid block of resentment deep down inside, which is ever growing. Still, should he ever feel the need to implode, he's more the type to just go off, drink in the corner with a friend and silently push his misery all the way down, then forget about it.
Alfred's ability to just forget about it underpins his essential good nature. A person hurting him will not lead to him forgetting their actions, but unless they've done something truly disgusting, he's likely to forgive them quickly after he stews for a bit, then just get on with his life. He'll take whatever lessons he's learned from past encounters and store them away for future reference, but he's not the type to hold a grudge about it. He's very thick skinned.
Alfred will easily face any problem head on and shoulder anyone else's burdens - so long as they weren't caused by him. It's not that he has an issue with admitting when he's wrong. It's more that he just doesn't like to be confronted by his own failures; if he's fucked up he doesn't want a reminder. If he's failed at something he likes to remove himself completely, just so he doesn't have to deal with it. He understands he's done wrong. He doesn't need it hammered in, is his thought process.
Huge shows of emotion make him uncomfortable. So do the following: admitting to any feelings - to himself or others - loud noises (or people), public speaking or speaking in front of more than two people and physical contact with anyone who is not related to him. His list of dislikes and things that make him uncomfortable seems to stretch a million miles. This might make him seem picky, but in truth he's easily pleased; give him space, silence and solitude, or one or two people to drink with - they don't even have to be friends - and he'll be content enough to last for a while.
His own sense of identity is pulled in bits and pieces from the roles he's played over the years. Brother, friend, occasional lover, he tends to learn some way of behaving from his major personal relationships and add it to his identity as he goes. He's thirty already but still feels like he's not quite a finished picture yet. He's more a collage.
In short, he's a solemn stoic with simple pleasures.
Appearance: Alfred's hair has faded slightly from the bright colour it was when he was a child to mere strawberry blonde. It's almost constantly in a state of bedhead; he doesn't so much brush his hair as run a hand through it and go. He doesn't mind it sticking up at awkward angles; generally speaking he's not aware of his hair and doesn't know why anyone would be. Mirrors are for other people. Usually he avoids his reflection - who wants to see that tiny mouth? Or his mother's long pointy nose sticking out of the middle of his father's face? His combination of features is, in his opinion, awkward and strange. His eyes are a striking green and stand out from the rest of his face - he likes them best.
His face isn't used to moving the muscles needed to smile and that's clear whenever he does it. His face looks far better in its natural frown; when he smiles it looks like someone is tugging on the corners of his mouth. His teeth are, like any stereotypical Englishman's, yellow and a little crooked, so he smiles even less than his nature allows, just to make sure they don't show. Five months in America is getting to him. At least he's slightly taller than average at 5'11, even if his build is only average. He needs to work out more, but he goes to the gym once every two weeks and lifts a few weights. That's enough, right? He's healthy, after all.
Clothing-wise, he pulls on whatever is available, even if it clashes horribly or is an unsuitable colour. He has absolutely no eye for fashion. His trainers have holes in the toes now, where his feet poke through, and most of his socks need darning. Who cares? So long as he's covered he is comfortable.
PB: Arthur Darvill
History: Being as Alfred is, a perfectly average young man, it should come as no surprise that he was born to perfectly average parents. His father was a history professor who named his three sons after various old kings; Alfred came first, then Henry, with George as the youngest. George was always babied and spoiled by brothers and parents alike; Henry was a tearaway who longed for a more exciting world than surburbia and went out in search of it with drink and drugs. Alfred kept to his studies and did his best to look after his brothers. He didn't mind being the boring, responsible brother. He couldn't picture himself in any other role.
Eventually, his brothers grew up. George could look after himself and Henry had grown wiser. His parents weren't so old they needed someone around to constantly check up on them. Alfred took up the role of a distant, but dutiful son, checking in with them every once in a while. In the meantime, he went wandering, far from his London home. After graduating with a degree in English literature, his luck with jobs never seemed any good, and after a few months he seemed to find himself unemployed once more. His reaction was generally to move counties, the further away from that failure the better. After his latest termination, at a software firm in Manchester, he was about ready to completely hop planets just so he wouldn't have to bear the hundred to one potential of running into his boss again and feeling awkward for about five minutes.
His girlfriend, an American who'd moved over briefly to attend school and had never gone back, convinced him to stay on Earth. Instead of Jupiter, they moved to LA.
America didn't have the social customs that Alfred enjoyed - drinking as a social thing rather than to get drunk, for instance, and they drove on the wrong side of the road and the sports were odd and didn't involve his beloved Arsenal and goodness if talking about your feelings was an Olympic sport they'd win it every time had nobody heard of the stiff upper lip? - but it did have his girlfriend. And for a while, that was enough. But the stresses of uprooting to another country and his difficulty in finding a job despite his English literature degree and vast knowledge of poems added to the usual strains on relationships. She suggested that if he was so unhappy in America he could fuck off.
Off he fucked.
With nowhere to go, living in a motel and anxious to leave the country that had been the scene of his latest failure, Alfred called his family and, for perhaps the first time in his adult life, had a long talk with his father about his feelings. His father had a brother living in Australia he suggested might be willing to take him in and get him a job, or at least a place to stay for a few weeks.
And so, thinking that perhaps talking about one's feelings and anxieties might not be so bad, Alfred boarded a plane bound for Sydney.
He is currently regretting everything.
Special skills: Boy scouts taught him how to build a fire and basic shelter. Is decent at fixing things up and woodwork.
Strengths: Always calm, decently strong, protective, deals with people a lot easier than he thinks he does, easily contented.
Weaknesses: Blunt, closed off, no practical survival skills, cowardly when it comes to problems he causes, overprotective at times, gets lost easily.
Misc: When it comes to his resentment and inner annoyance, Alfred generally needs some form of outlet before he explodes. On land it was going out for the occasional drink with friends. With no alcohol, he's going to need to find something that relaxes him, whether it's building his own distillery using coconuts or starting a fight club.
Inventory: Jumper, shirt and trousers. Socks (holes in both heels and right big toe). Trainers (scuffed, holes all over). Wallet (containing driver's license, bank cards, a condom and some money) and passport. iPhone. His waterproof carry on bag including: Catch-22, Kafka on the Shore and A Farewell to Arms as well as two bars of Hershey chocolates, a digital camera, a bottle of water, a small booklamp, two pairs of boxers, two pairs of socks, a toothbrush and toothpaste.
