Post by Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau on Mar 10, 2011 2:20:27 GMT -5
Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau
PICTURE(S) COMING SOON
[/size]PICTURE(S) COMING SOON
*******************
Characters Personal Information
Name: Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Aliases: "Shadow" to most of his friends, since that's how his last name is pronounced anyways. Relatives called him "Nate" and storeowners called him "Ollie"
Hair Color: Copper
Eye Color: Goldenrod
Skin Tone: Olive (oh, the irony)
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 180lbs
Sexual Orientation: Whatever strikes him.
How Did They arrive here: While he and his two friends were filming a fake "coming-out" video to post on YouTube, in hopes of having the next viral hit, his two friends got a little cute and barricaded the door, and walked away for about twenty minutes. As he was sitting alone, he felt a large hand grab the collar of his jacket, and out he went, into the veritable hell that is Wonderland.
Years In Wonderland: 4 years
********************
What Are They Like?
Likes:
- Music (mostly indie pop/rock)
- Asian foods (particularly Indian)
- Stand-up comedy
- Traveling
- Poetry
- Political protests
- Tea
- Coffee
- Cheese & crackers
- Chocolate
- Long walks at night
- Rain
Dislikes:
- Willful ignorance
- Small rooms
- Death metal
- Screamo
- Liars
- Excessive restriction
- Censorship
- His old neighbors
- Coconut
- Fascists
Turn Ons:
- Girls in heavy eyeliner
- Girls in chucks/flats
- Girls in plaid
- Girls with absurdly colored hair
- Poetic flirting
- ... Girl musicians...
- Tugging on his necktie
- Asking him to sing a song
Turn Offs:
- Knowing his music sucks
- Lack of intelligence
- Dishonesty
- Bimbos
- Wannabes
Nervous Habits:
- Scratches the back of his hands
- Tears small pieces off of the corners of sheets of paper, then rolls them up into tiny pellets.
- Sudden drop in voice amplitude
Fears:
- The afterlife
- Drowning
- Dying alone
Appearance:
Nathaniel doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. He generally wears a darkish grey, zip-up jacket, that's fitted quite well to his torso. Underneath is usually a band t-shirt, or a plaid button-up shirt. He favors earth tones. Almost always wears some frayed blue jeans, or occasionally, his favorite (dilapidated) pair of grey jeans with metal studs lining the seams and decorating the back pockets. Footwear includes a pair of standard black boots for work or weather, and a pair of orange chucks that he obtained through "sources unknown".
His build is rather average, though with a little bit of tone to it. Shaggy, copper colored hair covers his ears and extends about 2/3 of the way down his neck. Bangs are generally swooped to one side. Periodically sports a goatee. His eyes, are what set him apart though. Goldenrod is a color unique to humans, and largely does not exist. No one is sure how his eyes got to be this color. They have always been this color. At times, they seem to glow, either when the light is just right, or when the tears began to well up in his eyes.
Personality:
For the most part, Nathaniel is a pretty easy-going guy. He tries to keep things loose as much as possible, and rarely raises his voice in anger. He is very sociable and is proud of his networking capabilities. It would seem, at a distance, that Nathaniel has a connection to just about anywhere and anything. To those in the know, he has been known to procure various items of interest, including weapons and modern music. He's a romantic type, who oftentimes uses his musical talents to his advantage. As a writer, he is very expressive and passionate about what he believes in, whether politically, morally, or spiritually.
However, he has been known to have a somewhat dark side. This could be credited to his love of alcohol, to his ability to love someone so much that it destroys him when they leave, or to an undiagnosed mental disorder. Some vote all of the above in this matter. When Nathaniel finally DOES break, it gets turbulent. Things get broken, doors get ripped off of hinges, people get beaten within inches of their lives (yes... multiple people), and that's only BEFORE he start binge drinking. Once he has a few in him, he begins spray painting violently romantic poetry on the walls outside, and strikes down anyone who interferes. In one instance, a poem was written in blood on a pub's bathroom mirror, though it wasn't quite clear whose blood it was. Could've been Nathaniel's, or it could've been the half dead dude laying on the floor. Either way, it's still messed up.
[color=white********************[/color][/size]
How Their Life Is / Was
[/color]Father: Vladimir Abel Shaddeau
Mother: Martha Victoria Shaddeau (born Martha Victoria Thatcher)
Sibling/s: none
History: Growing up, Nathaniel had it pretty easy. He was born into a middle class family in Montreal, and was afforded most of anything he'd ever ask for, which wasn't much. He was very much interested in how things worked, and more importantly, WHY things worked. From an early age, he was taking apart small electronic devices (calculators, alarm clocks, watches) to see what made them operate. Around the age of 5, he began taking interest in music. He also began taking interest in dismantling musical instruments, so see how THEY worked. Nathaniel's childhood was largely based on his heightened curiosity, which allowed him to do exceptionally well in school, and as a musician/songwriter. He began piano lessons at the age of 5, and picked up a guitar at the age of 9.
Nathaniel's other major curiosity was in firearms. At the age of 13, he began pursuing his interest by taking training classes to fine tune the precision of his aim. His father was also quite skilled, having been a military man when he was young, and so he offered the skills he had. Turns out he was a natural, and entering sharpshooting contests when he was 15. He specialized in handguns AND rifles, giving him an edge in close range, and long. Shotguns never interested him very much, so he stayed away from those for the most part.
His curiosity wasn't without its drawbacks, though. He was always mocked as a child, and didn't have many friends. He was more interested in learning. It wasn't until he reached high school that he met a couple guys who were very much like him in his curiosity. One was an amateur film director, and the other was a sculptor. Together, the three of them put together some strange projects, fusing elements of film, music, and art into a cohesive whole. He still wasn't very outgoing, though. That all changed after he was taken away to Wonderland.
Nathaniel never really took well to anyone trying to restrict his creative outlets. As this began to happen in Wonderland, he began to raise his voice a little more. He became more of an activist in his behaviours. Protesting, and contesting his superiors by going about his curious observations and performing his own songs on the street at various hours of the day became part of his daily routine. He gained the respect of some who weren't brave enough to do as he did, although he also received a whole new level of brutalities from some of the Boogies. He's been labeled as a constant troublemaker in their eyes, but a sort of romantic Robin Hood hero in the eyes of humans. Some strongly sense that he is indeed a rebel, though he has mostly been written off as some independent dude who causes a raucous just to please himself. No one of any real importance suspects him to be a rebel.
Since his abduction, he has poured countless hours into his skills, behind the scenes. He began to sing and play his music more openly, which had all kinds of repercussions. He also poured time into his marksmanship, being able to faithfully hit small targets from over 200 meters away from a handgun (with a scope attached, of course). With a rifle and a good hiding place, he's as dangerous as any professional sniper around.
He has never fired a shot in anger, though... Surprisingly...
Roleplaying Sample:
It was a minute past midnight, and as usual, Sid had made his way to the top of the roof of the apartment complex he resided in. The streets and sidewalks down below were still busy, echoing the footsteps and chattering of the people as they strolled by. Couples holding hands, best friends carrying their drunken comrades, and the occasional loner passing by, with a cigarette in hand. It was a nice change of pace to have this sudden turn in the weather. The warmest day on record for the month of February, as a matter of fact. It had been in the lower 70s all evening, and had finally cooled to the upper 50s with the chill of the river's breeze.
In his hands, was a black, dreadnought style guitar, with a cutaway section to accommodate playing on the higher frets. In his hands, also, was his most powerful weapon. As his fingers began to dance freely across the fretboard, and as his hand began to pluck and strum with careful, yet confident precision, the sound came rolling out. The warmth of the tone resonating from the body of the instrument was soothing, yet it sounded almost philosophical in a way. It was almost as if Sid was trying to ask the world a question through the tonal harmonies and melodies he was creating. A small grin crept up the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes, and swayed ever so gently, his head bopping from one side the other with the asymmetrical rhythm and meter of his inquisitive song.
And then came a hum; a soft, counter-melodic hum, light at first, but gradually increasing in amplitude. The hum eventually yielded to some spoken word. The words were spoken with a sort of monotonous droning, fractured with pauses to complement the asymmetrical rhythms.
When time runs out
at the end of the day
I find myself
slipping into shadows.
Skulking around town behind the scenes,
and ducking into tunnels as the train
roars overhead.
The chord progression grew more intense, incorporating tri-tone chords and other various dissonant harmonies to tug at the heart strings as much as possible, and soon came a bellowing of actual song lyrics rather than a cluster of spoken word.
Echoing~
Proclaiming dominance,
as those who gather to fight.
All united for one cause.
United in solidarity~
Pardon my treason.
Pardon my thoughts.
Pardon my wishes; my desires.
I'll pardon your subconscience,
and save your words
since you're so short for them anyways~
His voice was powerful, yet showed a certain vulnerability that allowed for the sheer passion to shine through. The words echoed down the streets and allies for several blocks, turning a few heads, and causing others to shake in disapproval. Of course, there was always at least one person standing down below, looking up to the rooftop in admiration of a stranger's self-expression. Always one woman looking up from below. And Sid was quite aware of her existence. She had sandy blonde hair down her back and powder blue eyes. She had the most adorable of smiles, and she was always there when he played atop the roof.
Sid only hoped that, one day, she would speak to him.
In his hands, was a black, dreadnought style guitar, with a cutaway section to accommodate playing on the higher frets. In his hands, also, was his most powerful weapon. As his fingers began to dance freely across the fretboard, and as his hand began to pluck and strum with careful, yet confident precision, the sound came rolling out. The warmth of the tone resonating from the body of the instrument was soothing, yet it sounded almost philosophical in a way. It was almost as if Sid was trying to ask the world a question through the tonal harmonies and melodies he was creating. A small grin crept up the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes, and swayed ever so gently, his head bopping from one side the other with the asymmetrical rhythm and meter of his inquisitive song.
And then came a hum; a soft, counter-melodic hum, light at first, but gradually increasing in amplitude. The hum eventually yielded to some spoken word. The words were spoken with a sort of monotonous droning, fractured with pauses to complement the asymmetrical rhythms.
When time runs out
at the end of the day
I find myself
slipping into shadows.
Skulking around town behind the scenes,
and ducking into tunnels as the train
roars overhead.
The chord progression grew more intense, incorporating tri-tone chords and other various dissonant harmonies to tug at the heart strings as much as possible, and soon came a bellowing of actual song lyrics rather than a cluster of spoken word.
Echoing~
Proclaiming dominance,
as those who gather to fight.
All united for one cause.
United in solidarity~
Pardon my treason.
Pardon my thoughts.
Pardon my wishes; my desires.
I'll pardon your subconscience,
and save your words
since you're so short for them anyways~
His voice was powerful, yet showed a certain vulnerability that allowed for the sheer passion to shine through. The words echoed down the streets and allies for several blocks, turning a few heads, and causing others to shake in disapproval. Of course, there was always at least one person standing down below, looking up to the rooftop in admiration of a stranger's self-expression. Always one woman looking up from below. And Sid was quite aware of her existence. She had sandy blonde hair down her back and powder blue eyes. She had the most adorable of smiles, and she was always there when he played atop the roof.
Sid only hoped that, one day, she would speak to him.
---------
Back at Crystal Tokyo, I played (over the years):
Sid Townshend
Caleith Vryre
Matthew Tartus
Crono
Eiji Shinjo
Kusanagi (Blue Seed) (very brief run)
A pickle-obsessed version of Trowa Barton
[/size]
********************
(OPTIONAL)
A Bit About You
Name: Matt Eichenlaub
Age: Somewhere between 16 and 92, last I checked.
Experience: Started in 2001
How you found the site: Crystal Tokyo veteran from WAY back. Made friends with the admin, and we got onto the conversation of LW. So..... She sold me on it xD