Ani Peraveda Melonball Wandninja Glister Gloaming THE FOURTH.

While all this drama was going on down the hall, Videro kept returning to those darn on/off switches, on the statues.  Switches!  Preposterous.  He leaned down, with  his eyes still on the pedestal, picked up his fallen cloak, murmuring about dust, and shook it out.  An angry purple ball of wooly fluff tumbled out, deep indigo, nearly the color of Videro's rich velvety cloak.  The fluff swooped up, grabbed Videro by the point of his collar, and slapped him smartly across the face.  It actually stung a little bit!  "I was SLEEPING you fiend, you insensitive jerk", the fluff spat.  Videro's eyes focused.  There was a pixie an inch away from his nose, with one foot planted firmly on his sternum.  An angry pixie.   "Just...just...how...dare you. I am Ani Peraveda Melonball Wandninja Glister Gloaming the FOURTH!  I demand an apology!!!" she sputtered, and continued on cursing and shaking him by the point of his ornate collar. Videro immediately tuned her out, while he tried to put together just how this being got into his clothes, his precious clothes.

Earlier that week, Ani took residence among the wings of the baby dragons. It was dark, it was warm, and there was all kinds of interesting traffic.  She had fun flashing around, terrorizing the tourists, pinching them and stealing their baubles.  Her minuscule attention span was already totally over this hobby, and Ani was making to pack up and wander to the next dungeon.  That's when the Very Interesting group bumbled into her lair.  Oh, they nearly got themselves slain by the big guy in the middle! Hysterics.  Moving in for a closer look, she nested at the feet of the big guy, and watched them shuffle around the perimeter of the room, like some kind of silly dancers.  Stuffing both tiny fists into her mouth, to stifle her peals of laughter, she just hung back and watched.  It got ugly there for awhile, the idiots triggered the baby angels...maybe she should turn them off...but nah, this was too interesting.  They took SO long, though.  Ani slid off the statue, tiptoeing in for a closer look, and nearly tripped over a REALLY soft piece of cloth.  Divine providence!  She snuggled down in it, and watched the adventurers raptly...or till she fell asleep, 3 minutes later.

Kouri's Goodbye

After witnessing Henry Senior dispatch the last shambling zombie, Kouri dropped her gory falchion.  She slid down the wall, into a half crouch, and put her head in her enormous dinner-plate hands.  The undead always unnerved her, always scared her, but this was to be too much.  

They'd been fighting for days, maiming, killing, even torturing.  This isn't what she signed on for, when she left the grove for "adventure", these people, while courageous in their own way, were not the heroes of stories, they were bloodthirsty and greedy, crass and rowdy.  Even Faolan didn't seem the same. He grew more savage and distancy.  Tonight had been the last of it.  Trying to save her friends, she got beaten almost to death, and flung around a room by statues. Statues!  Then, forgetting all of her wise mentor's training, everything she'd ever gained in overcoming her animal nature, she charged into battle like a common animal, goring a walking corpse with her majestic horns.  Frightened, traumatized, frustrated, and scared more than anything she could ever recall, Kouri slid deeper into a curled ball, and didn't move for a long time.  No one really noticed anything different, at first, thinking she was just exhausted from the fight, which was half truth.  She began to pray.  Praying for answers, praying for strength, guidance, anything.  The rhythmic whispered chanting provided comfort, and lulled her into a trancelike state.  She lost the world around her, the murky dungeon fell away, the sounds of post combat joking, groaning, looting fell away.  Everything but the prayers fell away.  

She quieted her heart, and listened.  Nothing came.  The sounds came back, the smells came back, the crushed zombie gristle under her left hoof came back...and she felt no different.  Picking up her pack, and reclaiming her sword, she resigned herself to moving on, again.  Plodding forward, deeper into the morass, both of her emotions, and in this very real, and very disgusting place.  Not understanding their mission, not feeling like she was even doing anything useful.  

Out of nowhere, a breeze came.  A breeze EXACTLY like the cool, piny morning shade in her beloved bower, lifted her mane and filled all her senses with a brief but immense joy.  It was pines and deep loamy leaves! It was sunshine and endless green water. The breeze came from deep below, eddied and swirled past her, and rushed up the stair case they'd recently descended.  Up.  Out.    She looked around, and no one seemed touched by the same wind, no one even noticed.  In that brief instant, she'd heard the answer to her prayer, and realized that to stay here one minute more was suicide, slow, agonizing suicide.  She could teach more people her way! She could care for her beloved forest!  There was more for her out there.  

She was losing her magic, losing herself, losing her best friend and companion, her steadfast wolf, continuing this path of destruction.  Hopefully her companions would understand.  She watched them now, with tears in her velvety brown eyes, knowing what she'd have to say.  This would be the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.  

The Psychology of Chris's Characters, written by Chris

How do I start a character? Usually with an idea. Back in the day when
I gamed 'round Colonia, Rahway and other points in Middlesex and Union
counties I always endeavored to make something odd. I always had
satisfaction when I'd tell my former friend Brian about my character
then he'd get all Derrida on it coming within a red cunthair of saying
it's stupid and I'm stupid for thinking of it. My character, my idea
and he's not even the fucking game master.


Here's my Wold-Newton family. Theodore Aloysius Blackwood had a rich
family who loved him enough to enroll Theodore at an exclusive private
school but they didn't love him enough to actually love him. The
expenditure of money was how they expressed affection. Even the
enrollment was for Theodore's own good. Throughout his childhood he
was talking to imaginary friends who were spirits, souls which
gathered about him to communicate with the living even if it was a
monosyllabic whisper. The first semester was hell, suffering
atrocities at the hands of teachers and students alike while being
forgotten during holiday break left to fend for himself on the
abandoned campus. At the start of the spring semester in his 10th year
of life he was going to be sexually assaulted again but this time the
schoolmates would murder him and stuff the little corpse into a trunk
never to be found. When he awoke everyone on campus was dead. Bodies
half-hidden under bushes, windows dark and broken and he was called to
meet with the Tremere. The Chantry of the Silver Moon raised him from
that point and when he reached the age of eighteen they brought him
across into their ranks. He found true love with a mortal woman eighty
years later and spent his time trying to figure out how to regain his
mortality so he could die of old age with her.


Someplace with a little more color, four colors to be certain, with
some grittiness power is wielded with abandon. Dexter Norton, son of
Ed Norton, had adventures as a young man with his sewer worker cum
adventurer father. Ed Norton, working the NYC sewers, found an ancient
city deep below New York City and acquired fame. In Dexter's fifteenth
year he lost his left eye in a helicopter crash. Dexter studied
science, acquired his Masters very early and was scouted by VIPER to
be one of their powered armor devs. He didn't know he was working for
VIPER, just a government contractor, and when he realized he was one
of the bad guys he took the Adder armor prototype and escaped before
it could be pressed into service. Slipping into obscurity as a pet
store owner in a town somewhere in Essex County he kept below the
radar by day but came out as Black Adder at night.


As the game progressed I decided he was going to be a womanizer and
like drinking. Honest to goodness I didn't know jack or shit about
Tony Stark at the time. To my credit I didn't go anywhere near that.
Plus Dexter's protectiveness of his secret ID went pathological where
he was one person in the armor and another out of the armor.
Adventures wore on, he proved himself to be the most capable member of
the superteam Checkmate (much to Brian's chagrin). Rumor has it that
he endd up creating a multinational corporation which raised an island
in the Pacific which became his sovereign land. He fathered two
daughters who found him when they grew into women. Carolina and
Xiomara. The former adored him, the latter despised him but it ended
up that Xiomara took over when she realized Dexter was attempting
something great for a new age of humanity. Carolina wanted to hand it
over to coalition led forces so they could chop it up as they saw fit.
Xiomara had Carolina assassinated, announced how the country would
surrender and set a timeframe for a bloodless invasion. She took her
father's work, sent many into waiting generation ships high in orbit
and when the coalition set foot onto an empty island many nuclear
devices were detonated as the ships sped into the yawning void. For
centuries they wandered as gypsies between the stars, never
encountering other life nor their own peoples, before turning back
home. The final scene as I always saw it was one of Dexter's
descendants sitting in the captain's chair on the bridge watching
Earth rise in the windows before giving the orders to read all
weapons.


Should you happen to lift up a rock you'd find The City. Someplace in
southern Canada, a placeholder for Toronto for Americans who care less
for their northern neighbor. Monty Prince, a medical student, got
lucky one night with the woman of his dreams. Before he blacked out he
remembered his mouth being full of cold coppery liquid. Awakening he
saw Lucy staring at him in all her glory. Two abyssal eyes and a mouth
fringed with tentacles around a singular fang. Between the burblings
and gurglings he heard "I love you. We are together forever."


Needless to say he ran screaming into the night. Things got worse when
he realized most of his hair fell out, he acquired a prognathous jaw
with two tusks sprouting up like an orc. Despite the evident
emaciation of his body, Monty Prince discovered he had preternatural
strength and other talents which he used to hide himself from his
amorous sire. In his adventures he learned how to use a sword, used
obfuscate to peep on his female team members and gained many prices on
his head from the Sabbat. The story gets muddy when there are rumors
he made his way to St. Louis and joined the Sabbat to become an
adversary for another group of vampires. I have no part in this and it
was up to one of the New Jersey storytellers who co-opted my
character.


Tangentially to the four color world was another superheroic
character. A company involved with recombinant DNA was uplifting
animals to human-like intelligence. One of those was a rhinoceros
named Mercury. Being particularly dim he fell into a life of crime and
embraced the philosophy of "might makes right". After doing a stint in
Stronghold he had a change of heart and decided to come clean "for the
kids". Still clumsy, still sharp as a bag of rocks but outlandishly
strong and resilient he had a few adventures.


Yet another hero was Shadowturtle. Boris Black, county coroner, found
an ancient artifact which bonde with his body. At will he could assume
the form of a completely black turtle who could move at the speed of
darkness. He ended up killing a kid who was possessed by a demon and
was incarcerated by Special American Tactics. The rest of his team was
unaware of this thinking he was released on his own recognizances.
Instead the doppelganger, which I played, was a puppet of the same
demon who turned on them.


Many years later there was a gangrel out in Colorado who lived in the
tool chest of his pickup truck. With a Toreador and a Nosferatu they
tangled with the Sabbat and helped bring peace to a group of
werewolves along the front range. I've forgotten his name and the game
only lasted a handful of months.


Around this point I started creating my own worlds populated with many
more characters. Reckon most of the time I'll have an idea like
"Nobody ever wonders what the other half of a half-orc is so why NOT
an elf?" From such concepts a character is born like Felix Mousepad
who was created to roleplay rather than roll-play. Circumstances led
to gaming with powergaming munchkins much to my own chagrin but my
love for Lisa, Irv, Luiz and Alden kept me there in hopes I'd be able
to shine with a character rather than wow people with my completely
broken at-will power that's a daily for a non-prestige class. I wanted
to play a personality not a set of powers meant to fulfill some
adolescent fantasy which pastiches the best of Robert E. Howard. Not
very developed but I play him as forceful, thoughtful and charismatic
which does not represent the reality of my own self.


Folks who know me will read into this, see my pain, my scars, my hopes
and triumphs within these characters but when I created them at no
time did I ever think of them as a form of catharsis. Just a character
I thought would be cool to play without being a mary sue.

Dawna, psychologically

Dawna came about later.  I initially developed her for a roleplaying scenario in World of Warcraft.  I was looking for an orphan raised in an abbey, that went on to become a paladin, and be very regimented and "regular army" about it.  During that time in my life, I was all about "settling down"  The turmoil from the house burning and rebuilding was over, we had just moved into this house, and Irv and I had settled into a great routine.  Family life was swell, and I'd just gotten serious about spending lots of time online with Luiz.  For a long time, (the first Arachne days) I was spending time with lots of different people, being all "guild leader" and outgoing.  During the Arachne days, WoW was a necessary social outlet.  With Dawna, when I rolled her, things were shifting.

I created her on an as yet unplayed server. She was to be my "vacation char", to get away from people, and the high school like setting of an MMO.  Turned out, Luiz insisted on playing on my vacation server with me, and it became something permanent.  The two of us on our new paladins spent hours in game together, bonding. We roleplayed as a married military couple, regular army.  Leo was Luiz's not-hero.  Leo was a Good Guy, and tried hard to serve and protect. Dawna was much the same.  She wasn't some swasbuckling wildwoman, she was pure and good, and just tried to do the right thing.  Dawna represents a more settled side of me, I think.  She reflects the serenity of my life, then and still now.  It's satisfying to play someone who is just good.  Good, a bit stubborn, and not here to make friends, or impress.  She's pure, or even a little prude.  Champion for women everywhere, as well as the weak, and those unable to defend themselves, a true paladin, and truly chivalrous in the best sense of the word.  In her current D&D incarnation, she's practically virginal, and leans towards relationships with other women.  She's not a mother, but she's extremely nurturing and maternal.  I took Damona's penchant for diplomacy and amplified it tenfold.  She's a shining beacon of feminine grace and unwavering strength, although stiff and often uncompromising.  If "hooker with a heart of gold" was my Damona trope, then military woman is Dawna's.  

She's become iconic, because every knight, holy warrior, proud barbarian, every red  haired, green eyed strong axe wielding character I play in games is Dawna, in some incarnation.  Dawna is even a Jedi.  Fem Shep in Mass Effect was Dawna.  

When I think about it on these terms, it feels like Damona is my lunar wild, nightime character.  Amoral and impulsive.  Dawna is my solar, warm daytime character. Steady, intense, and a little harsh. 

When Luiz was talking about "iconic characters" I had to mention that none of my characters were ever made to be iconic.  They all started very small in level and idea.  Dawna was created as a part of a storyline. Damona was created spontaneously.  I don't think you can deliberately make an icon. They just have to sort of sprout up.

Damona, psychologically

Luiz asked me about the origins of my more notable and "iconic" characters.  He specifically asked about Damona, then Dawna.

Damona became iconic through Damien's excellent game, through long, epic stories.  She developed as a character because of her surroundings.

She was conceived of, like any basic D&D char.  "I'll be running a game, what kind of character do you feel like playing?".  The answer, in her case, was "um...how about a rogue?"  Her concept was simple enough. I had a girl crush on Jordana Brewster, at the time, and wanted to play a standard "hooker with a heart of gold" trope, that looked like Jordana Brewster in leather.  I never play "just" a rogue, or "just" anything, so in the short days between the conception and actually playing, I came up with a gimmick that she was a tinker.  Some thieves steal for greed, but she did it out of boredom and because of her mile wide rebellious streak.  She was a bored kid in a small town, from a good solid family, and she hated it.   She amused herself by taking apart locks, and breaking into houses, stealing for amusement rather than necessity.  The first day we played, she broke into the town chapel, and unloaded the collection box into her pockets.

I played her brash, snotty, and as a total slut, at first. With time, and the gravity of her mission, she developed grace and diplomacy.  That time in my life, my early 20s, was filled with tension.  Alden was a toddler, we were broke. I was going back to school.  The house burned down.  In real life, I walked a tightrope, with no time or energy to work on my "self" or my own personality.  With Damona, I hearkened back to my late teens, my brash, snotty, and slutty days.  It was like slipping into a comfortable old jacket, one that didn't quite fit in the real world anymore, but was fine as anything for our Monday night adventures.  Looking back, playing Damona was just like playing a caricature of myself from 5-7 years before, but seasoned with my personal maturity and a buncha cool extras.

What she turned into later, immortal, gold skinned magical conduit, sister to the Messiah, all that...that came after. The seed of Damona is what I'm talking about here.

She became iconic, not only because of  her eventual character development, but because in most computer games, after, whenever I played a rogue, or rogue type, I was playing early "Damona".  Black hair, green eyes, dual wielding, ass kicking, lock picking, and all that.  Most notably, Arachne, my first main in World Of Warcraft was a rendition of her.  Wild, untamed, amoral.  It's what I needed, in escape, as a counterpoint to the high stress, bolted down life I was leading, in reality.

Psychological Character Origins.

I'm taking a break from working on my story to write a little bit about my character's origins. The moment their seeds first took root in my conscious mind. I guess I was reflecting on teenage memories in my drive to IFF this morning. Maybe it's why I enjoy driving Lisa to work in the morning, its a magical time I've often ignored in favor of sleep.

So where did Lucius come from?

I think he came from the same place as classic super heroes like superman - from the imagination of a teenager aspiring to be something more than his awkward, uncertain self. I mentioned this to Lisa and she said it has nothing to do with age, and she's right. She created Damona in her 20's as a reflection of her teenage alter ego, whose life she kind of lived rather than fantasized about. My own process was a projection of a character whom, later in life, I unconsciously grew into. Not that I am that character, but he was the benchmark of an ideal along the way. And that's what this is about. We create characters to fulfill our psychological need to grow beyond our conscious limits. Take my dear friend Chris for example. He is very shy and admits to being socially awkward once in a while. In my game he created the character of Felix, who possesses all the social grace and assertive will he lacks in everyday life. When he becomes Felix, he leaves Chris and his world behind and takes a heroic aura. Perhaps it's why he is such a great role player. He enjoys the power of being someone stronger than his ordinary persona. When his wife calls him while he is gaming, he get's frustrated because she's unwittingly calling back to his ordinary life. I wish he could consciously bring the strength of Felix with him everywhere, especially at work. But that's another matter.

My first vision of this character was as clear as any other vision today. In hindsight, I may have been influenced by Disney's Fantasia, a childhood favorite. Unlike Mickey Mouse, however, the wizard I saw didn't lose control of his powers. In the fall of 1998, in my eleventh grade English class, I saw a powerful wizard on a stormy mountaintop commanding the elements. Lucius had no fear or faith in anything outside of himself. Instead he had a strong will, wisdom and confidence. He was a wizard, in the way I saw the quintessential artist as a wizard. I was heavily influenced by Leonardo's writing at the time, particularly the artist's endeavor to master himself and the world around him, to understand all things, to become the Universal Man. I saw the ancient artist as a real-life Merlin, a basis for Lucius' “Merlinnesque” master in the Wizard's Wrath. Concepts like “Man as a measure of all things” became a foundation for mastering chaotic forces which threatened to break the world of lesser men. Not to mention the implication of reality and consciousness as subjective experiences.

Most importantly, his confidence was what I needed the most in that time of my life as an awkward teenager from a foreign country. His devotion to magic became my devotion to art. He grew as an idealized alter-ego sometimes close, sometimes far in many crossroads in my life. Before his conception in 98, I used the name Lucius in the first iteration of Claudio's game the year before. I had cast him as a knight fighting for the typical justice freedom and you-know-what. That same character became the first Lucius Maximus in World of Warcraft - the alter ego through which Lisa first met me. His first appearance in Wizard's Wrath 1 was a puzzle to me. I really wasn't sure if I wanted to play as a paladin or a mage. Now I see the meaning behind the divide. Lucius the mage was my individual will going against conventions of my Christian upbringing, while the paladin was a champion of pious spiritual aspirations.

I haven't been playing any kind of paladin-like character for a while, so Lisa asked me if it's because I resent that period of my life as a Christian. I had to think about that for a little while. My immediate answer was this: “The wizard gave me a wider perspective of the world, I still love paladins and their devotion, but would rather command them, than to be them.” In truth, as I see Lucius' character growing as I write the story, I see him as an evolving assimilation of separate aspects of my self. My understanding of the world grows into a more wholesome view of magic and spirituality, it's only fair that my characters should grow as well.

The important point to take from all this is that our characters shouldn’t just be idle make believe, or escapist flights from the real world. They should inspire us to grow as well rounded individuals, not caricatures of ourselves. I'm asking Lisa to write her own point of view on this character creation process, I can't wait to read hers.