Post by orla on Feb 28, 2010 11:05:58 GMT -5
Hi, my name is Orla and this is my first character. I found this site through an ad on a forum. Something you should know about me is I am a raving feminist who salivates over politics and really likes shoes and cried at the Wilde film and is generally just wonderful.
Canon: The Picture of Dorian Gray
Custom Title: Picture Perfect
PHYSICAL
Age: 21
Gender: male
Appearance:
Height: taller than most.
Body: lanky and rail-thin.
Other distinguishing features: brown hair normally styled in a quiff, very pale skin, rather menacing eyebrows, a delicate mouth with a defined Cupid's bow; he stands out, and is handsome in an unusual way. He has a lot of charisma, and people tend to be drawn to him.
Wardrobe: all sorts. He sees beauty almost everywhere- from velvet jackets in high-end designer shops to moth-eaten pinstriped shirts in Cancer Research charity shops. Whatever he wears, he looks unusual but good; God only knows he spends enough time each day picking out clothes.[/ul]
Play By: a younger (Smiths-era or just after) Morrissey.
PERSONALITY
General personality: Dorian is obsessed with beauty, particularly his own. However, while vanity is one of his fatal flaws and his obsession is undeniably unhealthy, good things spring from it too. He can see beauty in almost everything; while he loves luxury of all kinds, he can stare at a sky-rise tower or crumbling pavement with weeds growing through the cracks and honestly believe them to be as beautiful as a sunset or the Mona Lisa. Well, actually, he has no regard for the Mona Lisa at all, and calls it 'boring and steadfastly ordinary in both subject and execution'. He has no idea of the real context of the painting or anything of its history, only that everyone likes it and he isn't too impressed by it. He prefers things that are a little out of the ordinary, that not everyone realises are beautiful, and let's face it- he also likes to be difficult, and will take an opposing view just to spite the majority.
Dorian is well-spoken and eloquent to the point of sesquipedalianism...ahem. That is, he uses too many long words which make him sound like an unbearable ponce, which he is. It's mostly an act; Dorian's family is not particularly posh and he didn't have a stellar education, but Dorian likes to impress people. He's clever, charming and often a little bit scandalous. He can frequently be camp and sarcastic, leading to some people assuming he's simply a bitchy queen, to put it mildly. This is incorrect; for one, though he may be shallow in some respects, he is deep in that he has his troubles and thinks a lot, in very philosophical terms. He often feels misunderstood. Secondly, he's not gay, he simply doesn't care for gender at all. Rather sexist, he tends to think that women are beautiful on the outside and men beautiful on the inside, with a few exceptions. He can feel sexual and emotional attraction to both genders, but is more likely to have sexual feelings for women and emotional feelings for men. All that said, if someone of any gender who is attractive propositions him, he will say yes, and he's only too happy to indulge in all sorts of kinks and other ideas. He's a hedonist at heart, and after all, you only live once.
He's undeniably hedonistic, and loves superficial things. He fills up his life with them and ignores the occasional suspicion, late at night, that they only widen the black hole that seems to be growing inside him. They make him happy while he's doing them, right? So they're ok. Nevermind that it's a seedy, artificial happiness. He's indulged in drugs before, though his only addictions are caffeine, nicotine and exercise; he takes looking good far more seriously than hedonism, and is always trying to find ways to reconcile the two.
Dorian's greatest fear is being ugly, which he equates, somewhat irrationally, with the loss of all friends, talents and other saving graces. Time itself is ticking forward, and he lives in a panic of finding a grey hair or a wrinkle- yes, at the age of 21- or being in some kind of accident and losing his beloved fair features. He spends two hours a day exercising vigorously, frequently skips meals, spends upwards of two hours getting ready before leaving the house and is a victim of desperate hope when it comes to diet fads or bizarre beauty tips. He's not a naïve person by nature, but if you were to tell him that walking the Sahara desert would make his hair more manageable, he would be planning the trip in the next ten minutes.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: “Oh, that's beautiful.”
Likes: (please list at least three)
Dislikes: (please list at least three)
Strengths: charming, clever, naturally sociable
Weaknesses: easily sunk into anxiety and depression, fixates on all the wrong things, easily influenced
BACKGROUND
Family: his mother and father back in England.
Education: a comprehensive school, and then Oxford for three months (studying music) before leaving for New York on a whim.
Occupation: an art model. He also plays piano at bars and suchlike occasionally. He's also looking to get a job as a test subject at Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals...
Worst past experience: realising how fleeting his own beauty is.
Best past experience: meeting “Henry Wotton”.
Image: other people perceive him as a shallow, sarcastic and ungrateful fop, and to an extent, he is. They're often surprised, however, when they realise he is actually intelligent.
History: Dorian was born in the North of England 21 years ago. His parents were working class/lower middle class and had no other children, and absolutely doted on him. He was their golden boy. In primary school he was sweet, innocent, intelligent and a pleasure to be around; in secondary school he was the same. He studied as hard as he possibly could, hoping to someday become a music teacher.
However, at the age of eighteen, he met “Basil Hallward”, an artist who became entirely infatuated with Dorian (if someone plays “Basil” later, this can be platonic or romantic). Through him and his art- painting, photographs, all sorts-, Dorian began to realise just how beautiful he was. He'd always loved beautiful things, but he'd never counted himself amongst them before. It was a wonderful feeling to him, and the confidence it gave him significantly improved his life. His confidence developed into vanity, but he was hardly as immoral as he'd grow to be. Not long after he'd come to the realisation of his own beauty, he came to another, infinitely more horrible one; that it wouldn't last. A friend of “Basil's” came to visit one morning- “Henry Wotton”, an older man as charming as he was corrupt. They shared a very close relationship (I always envisioned this as sexual, but if in future someone chooses to play “Wotton” then they can decide) and under “Wotton's” guidance, Dorian slowly came to realise the pleasures that awaited him in life. The enjoyment of good wine, good food, good art and good cigarettes turned into the enjoyment of everything, centering around beauty; sex, drugs, risks, danger all took on their appeal.
Dorian tried to attend Oxford but found that his studious nature had vanished in a whirlwind of hedonistic vanity. He left and continued his life, living on the money he could get from being an artist's model and the generosity of “Wotton”. Somewhere, however, at this point, he realised that his lifestyle was taking a toll on his looks. It tore him right through; what if he wasn't beautiful? What would he do then? There would be no more fun, no more hedonism, no more nothing. He couldn't enjoy life if he wasn't beautiful. It would be better to be dead.
So things changed. More exercise, more fasting, more desperate and bizarre searches for eternal beauty. He still took pleasure in “Wotton's” company and joined him on many of his hedonistic exploits, but his search to make his beauty everlasting was beginning to consume him. He was twenty one when he saw the advertisement on the internet, while he was searching for beauty tips. “Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals; we sell beauty! Looking for test subjects between eighteen and thirty. We'll pay you to look good! Must live in New York or be able to reach the New York labs on a regular basis.”
It took a matter of seconds for Dorian to make a decision. He didn't even say goodbye. Now he's in New York without a friend in the world, scraping by on playing piano and modelling for artists, and steeling himself for the interview at Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals...
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample: The mirror never seemed to show perfection any more. Dorian stared at it, frowning and critical. Maybe he should pluck his eyebrows? They were rather heavy. No, no, they added definition to his face, that was a good thing. It had to be something else that was wrong. Maybe he should exfoiliate more? Or get a trim? Maybe he should try stubble. Maybe-
Oh, this was senseless. He rubbed a hand over his face with a groan and turned his back on the mirror. That was it. He just couldn't be bothered with more. He looked fine. Fine. He was gorgeous! He'd just have to distract himself, he decided. He'd try out that new book full of Chopin he'd found in a charity shop, its pages yellow and curling. Yes, that would do wonderfully.
Dorian flicked to a random page, and made certain not to look at the title of the piece before concentrating on the first bars, his long fingers trailing lightly over the keys before they settled into their old familiar positions. After a few moments of sightreading, he recognised it as Étude Op.25, No.11, and glanced at the title to confirm it. Yep, he'd been right. There. Who needed beauty when you could recognise Chopin? Surely that was more impressive?
No. No, it wasn't. He gritted his teeth and played on, ignoring the dynamics and playing as loud as he possibly could, fingers slamming hard into the keys, a thundering fortissimo all the way. With a hiss of anger, he finished with a jarring dischord that would have made Chopin roll in his grave and returned to the mirror, the new silence echoing around him, uncomfortable on his ears.
There had to be something he could do to make himself look better.
Dorian Gray
High Class (or so he says)
High Class (or so he says)
Canon: The Picture of Dorian Gray
Custom Title: Picture Perfect
PHYSICAL
Age: 21
Gender: male
Appearance:
Height: taller than most.
Body: lanky and rail-thin.
Other distinguishing features: brown hair normally styled in a quiff, very pale skin, rather menacing eyebrows, a delicate mouth with a defined Cupid's bow; he stands out, and is handsome in an unusual way. He has a lot of charisma, and people tend to be drawn to him.
Wardrobe: all sorts. He sees beauty almost everywhere- from velvet jackets in high-end designer shops to moth-eaten pinstriped shirts in Cancer Research charity shops. Whatever he wears, he looks unusual but good; God only knows he spends enough time each day picking out clothes.[/ul]
Play By: a younger (Smiths-era or just after) Morrissey.
PERSONALITY
General personality: Dorian is obsessed with beauty, particularly his own. However, while vanity is one of his fatal flaws and his obsession is undeniably unhealthy, good things spring from it too. He can see beauty in almost everything; while he loves luxury of all kinds, he can stare at a sky-rise tower or crumbling pavement with weeds growing through the cracks and honestly believe them to be as beautiful as a sunset or the Mona Lisa. Well, actually, he has no regard for the Mona Lisa at all, and calls it 'boring and steadfastly ordinary in both subject and execution'. He has no idea of the real context of the painting or anything of its history, only that everyone likes it and he isn't too impressed by it. He prefers things that are a little out of the ordinary, that not everyone realises are beautiful, and let's face it- he also likes to be difficult, and will take an opposing view just to spite the majority.
Dorian is well-spoken and eloquent to the point of sesquipedalianism...ahem. That is, he uses too many long words which make him sound like an unbearable ponce, which he is. It's mostly an act; Dorian's family is not particularly posh and he didn't have a stellar education, but Dorian likes to impress people. He's clever, charming and often a little bit scandalous. He can frequently be camp and sarcastic, leading to some people assuming he's simply a bitchy queen, to put it mildly. This is incorrect; for one, though he may be shallow in some respects, he is deep in that he has his troubles and thinks a lot, in very philosophical terms. He often feels misunderstood. Secondly, he's not gay, he simply doesn't care for gender at all. Rather sexist, he tends to think that women are beautiful on the outside and men beautiful on the inside, with a few exceptions. He can feel sexual and emotional attraction to both genders, but is more likely to have sexual feelings for women and emotional feelings for men. All that said, if someone of any gender who is attractive propositions him, he will say yes, and he's only too happy to indulge in all sorts of kinks and other ideas. He's a hedonist at heart, and after all, you only live once.
He's undeniably hedonistic, and loves superficial things. He fills up his life with them and ignores the occasional suspicion, late at night, that they only widen the black hole that seems to be growing inside him. They make him happy while he's doing them, right? So they're ok. Nevermind that it's a seedy, artificial happiness. He's indulged in drugs before, though his only addictions are caffeine, nicotine and exercise; he takes looking good far more seriously than hedonism, and is always trying to find ways to reconcile the two.
Dorian's greatest fear is being ugly, which he equates, somewhat irrationally, with the loss of all friends, talents and other saving graces. Time itself is ticking forward, and he lives in a panic of finding a grey hair or a wrinkle- yes, at the age of 21- or being in some kind of accident and losing his beloved fair features. He spends two hours a day exercising vigorously, frequently skips meals, spends upwards of two hours getting ready before leaving the house and is a victim of desperate hope when it comes to diet fads or bizarre beauty tips. He's not a naïve person by nature, but if you were to tell him that walking the Sahara desert would make his hair more manageable, he would be planning the trip in the next ten minutes.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: “Oh, that's beautiful.”
Likes: (please list at least three)
- beauty, especially his own, and that of other people
- art, music, all things creative, though he prefers other people's art to that of his own (he plays the piano)
- good conversation- and in his mind, that means a challenging battle of wits
- cigarettes
- early morning air
- superficial things
- sex
- pleasure
Dislikes: (please list at least three)
- ugliness
- feeling like his life is empty
- being unable to sleep
- moments of doubt
- never feeling good enough
- bad art or music or creative projects; he can be very cruel about things and indeed people he doesn't like.
- losing a battle of wits
- being laughed at
Strengths: charming, clever, naturally sociable
Weaknesses: easily sunk into anxiety and depression, fixates on all the wrong things, easily influenced
BACKGROUND
Family: his mother and father back in England.
Education: a comprehensive school, and then Oxford for three months (studying music) before leaving for New York on a whim.
Occupation: an art model. He also plays piano at bars and suchlike occasionally. He's also looking to get a job as a test subject at Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals...
Worst past experience: realising how fleeting his own beauty is.
Best past experience: meeting “Henry Wotton”.
Image: other people perceive him as a shallow, sarcastic and ungrateful fop, and to an extent, he is. They're often surprised, however, when they realise he is actually intelligent.
History: Dorian was born in the North of England 21 years ago. His parents were working class/lower middle class and had no other children, and absolutely doted on him. He was their golden boy. In primary school he was sweet, innocent, intelligent and a pleasure to be around; in secondary school he was the same. He studied as hard as he possibly could, hoping to someday become a music teacher.
However, at the age of eighteen, he met “Basil Hallward”, an artist who became entirely infatuated with Dorian (if someone plays “Basil” later, this can be platonic or romantic). Through him and his art- painting, photographs, all sorts-, Dorian began to realise just how beautiful he was. He'd always loved beautiful things, but he'd never counted himself amongst them before. It was a wonderful feeling to him, and the confidence it gave him significantly improved his life. His confidence developed into vanity, but he was hardly as immoral as he'd grow to be. Not long after he'd come to the realisation of his own beauty, he came to another, infinitely more horrible one; that it wouldn't last. A friend of “Basil's” came to visit one morning- “Henry Wotton”, an older man as charming as he was corrupt. They shared a very close relationship (I always envisioned this as sexual, but if in future someone chooses to play “Wotton” then they can decide) and under “Wotton's” guidance, Dorian slowly came to realise the pleasures that awaited him in life. The enjoyment of good wine, good food, good art and good cigarettes turned into the enjoyment of everything, centering around beauty; sex, drugs, risks, danger all took on their appeal.
Dorian tried to attend Oxford but found that his studious nature had vanished in a whirlwind of hedonistic vanity. He left and continued his life, living on the money he could get from being an artist's model and the generosity of “Wotton”. Somewhere, however, at this point, he realised that his lifestyle was taking a toll on his looks. It tore him right through; what if he wasn't beautiful? What would he do then? There would be no more fun, no more hedonism, no more nothing. He couldn't enjoy life if he wasn't beautiful. It would be better to be dead.
So things changed. More exercise, more fasting, more desperate and bizarre searches for eternal beauty. He still took pleasure in “Wotton's” company and joined him on many of his hedonistic exploits, but his search to make his beauty everlasting was beginning to consume him. He was twenty one when he saw the advertisement on the internet, while he was searching for beauty tips. “Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals; we sell beauty! Looking for test subjects between eighteen and thirty. We'll pay you to look good! Must live in New York or be able to reach the New York labs on a regular basis.”
It took a matter of seconds for Dorian to make a decision. He didn't even say goodbye. Now he's in New York without a friend in the world, scraping by on playing piano and modelling for artists, and steeling himself for the interview at Picture Perfect Pharmaceuticals...
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample: The mirror never seemed to show perfection any more. Dorian stared at it, frowning and critical. Maybe he should pluck his eyebrows? They were rather heavy. No, no, they added definition to his face, that was a good thing. It had to be something else that was wrong. Maybe he should exfoiliate more? Or get a trim? Maybe he should try stubble. Maybe-
Oh, this was senseless. He rubbed a hand over his face with a groan and turned his back on the mirror. That was it. He just couldn't be bothered with more. He looked fine. Fine. He was gorgeous! He'd just have to distract himself, he decided. He'd try out that new book full of Chopin he'd found in a charity shop, its pages yellow and curling. Yes, that would do wonderfully.
Dorian flicked to a random page, and made certain not to look at the title of the piece before concentrating on the first bars, his long fingers trailing lightly over the keys before they settled into their old familiar positions. After a few moments of sightreading, he recognised it as Étude Op.25, No.11, and glanced at the title to confirm it. Yep, he'd been right. There. Who needed beauty when you could recognise Chopin? Surely that was more impressive?
No. No, it wasn't. He gritted his teeth and played on, ignoring the dynamics and playing as loud as he possibly could, fingers slamming hard into the keys, a thundering fortissimo all the way. With a hiss of anger, he finished with a jarring dischord that would have made Chopin roll in his grave and returned to the mirror, the new silence echoing around him, uncomfortable on his ears.
There had to be something he could do to make himself look better.
