Post by CASPAR CRANE on Jul 4, 2013 1:37:23 GMT -5
...caspar cyrus crane*
*dude, i had that t-shirt way before it was cool, man.*
[/size]*dude, i had that t-shirt way before it was cool, man.*
THESE PICTURES MUST NOT STRETCH THE BOARD
...basics*
name...[/b][/size] caspar cyrus crane
nickname...[/b][/size]caspy (people have attempted)
age...[/b][/size] 16
gender...[/b][/size] Dude, bro
grade...[/b][/size] junior in high school
occupation...[/b][/size] He works for the masses. He works for the proletariat. He works for those who cannot speak for themselves.
hometown...[/b][/size]milford, delaware
sexuality...[/b][/size] "Bisexual"
personification...[/b][/size] Ghost of Christmas Present
status...[/b][/size] Dormant
face claim...[/b][/size] Finn Harries[/blockquote]
...appearance*
physical...[/b][/size] Tall and lanky because like, anyone can have muscles. But skinniness, man, that really just takes a certain...oh, forget it.
clothing style...[/b][/size] No Hollister, no Abercrombie, none of that stupid mainstream business. (Those brands are huge monster corporations that totally kill animals and exploit child labor and shit, as Caspar will explain ferociously to anyone who will listen). Independent clothing retailers are the way to go, yes sir, real including such staples as skinny jeans, oversized plastic glasses (he owns about thirty or forty pairs), fitted hoodies, converse, courier bags, and the like. Look, any h8rs who don't understand his clothing can GTFO, okay? No judgment. He totally gets that some people just like, aren't on the same level as him. It's cool.
defining traits...[/b][/size]
-Almost always has headphones in, probably listening to some band that you've never heard of. It's cool. Some tastes in music just aren't as sophisticated as others. We can still have world peace and shit, man.
-Has a tattoo of the phrase "The pawns are the soul of the game" on the back of his left thigh. The quote is from Francois Andre Danican Philidore, a classical music composer. You've probably never heard of him. He's one of those guys you have to be like, pretty weird and into music to understand.
[/blockquote]
...personal info*
personality...[/b][/size] Caspar has never been the smartest, but you know what? He’s a firm believer in the fact that if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, then…well, something bad happens to you. Caspar can’t stand when people judge him for who he is, because you know what? Everyone’s a genius in their own way, man. And that includes Caspar. Caspar is such a genius in his own way that anyone who hates on him is just a stupid, uncultured hater who clearly doesn’t understand Caspar and his very unique mind. This applies to everything Caspar does: his post-modern drawings, his post-modern poetry, what he often refers to as his “slightly off-center” style of dress, and his references to obscure, very old writers and composers. Because hey, so what if he can’t really do math problems, or read really complicated stuff, or know anything about politics and stuff? Caspar is a fish, alright? He’s a really really smart, genius fish, and society is asking him to climb a tree. Actually, you know what? Society is the tree. Society is the tree that Caspar has to climb, and fuck society for not understanding that Caspar is not meant to climb, but to swiiiiiiiiim.
The above metaphor is simply one example of the in depth, obscure, and often rather convoluted metaphors that litter Caspar's speech. He’ll use metaphors to flesh out any description of anything as much as possible, from a comparison of his day to Chopin’s Nocturne in D Flat Minor (you know, super intense, dynamic, that sort of thing) to a simile involving the cereal he’s eating with and “that one part of War and Peace where that thing happens with the people”. He’s rather defensive of his metaphors, as he tends to think that they’re quite creative. Likewise, Caspar is rather infamous for his angry political rants (if he’s a bit too liberal for you to handle you’re just gonna have to deal, man. Its hard to be a crusader for justice, but someone’s gotta bear the burden) and psychoanalyses of people that, regardless of level of accuracy, certainly sound pretty hyper-intellectual if you ask him. And if you’re offended, look man, the truth hurts. But someone's gotta say it.
Though Caspar is very forward with political beliefs, opinions of others, and such, what he is not so forthcoming with is his irrational fear of public speaking. While he presents an air of confidence and control and fully considers himself well superior to the majority of those he encounters, this image shatters when Caspar is placed in front of a large crowd. This slightly dehabilitating phobia has limited him more than he’s cared for: while being a decent singer and actor, he’s always been barred from theater, and though he harbors an intense desire to be social and disseminate his clearly superior intellect and insight, he’s often forced to avoid large parties or social gatherings. (I don’t feel like repeating myself so check the past for more info on this)
life until now...[/b][/size] In all his sixteen years of ilfe, there are only four things that Caspar Crane has harbored a true passion for. Those are music, being a twin, Charity Clarke, and justice.
On The First Thing
Before Caspar could talk, he was humming. Before he could read words, he was reading music, spelling out chords on the piano, deriving Bach and Mozart concertos by ear. It soon became clear that Caspar had perfect pitch; by age five he could create any given pitch with absolute accuracy, and could reproduce any piece of music on the piano down to the very note after a single listen. By age six, he was tuning his father’s piano and guitar by ear. From a modest apartment in a small town in Colorado, Caspar’s father realized that while his son was a bit less outgoing and socially competent than his identical twin, he still had an incredible gift. Without further ado, he sent the boy to a musical theater audition.
Out of a few hundred boys, Caspar landed the role of Gavroche in a local theater production of Les Miserables. From there, he began auditioning wherever he could, with no future in his sights but one in musical theater. It wasn’t so much the performing that he enjoyed (though he didn’t mind it) as it was the recognition he got from it. As a seven, eight, nine-year-old, Caspar became a bit of a local celebrity for his exceptional singing voice and charisma onstage. He received rave reviews and many offers from theatrical directors begging him to be in their productions. The praise inflated his ego quite a bit, and performing onstage gave him a sort of high he could never reproduce.
But his dreams were dashed when he was ten years old, and was playing the role of Sweeney Todd in his middle school’s production. He was preparing to step out onto the stage for his first entrance on opening night, feeling nothing but excitement for the roar of the crowd and the thrill of his first opening song. But as he heard his cue, a sudden fear clenched his entire body. He was absolutely terrified, and paralyzed. He could feel the glares from the stage crew and the audience, but he couldn’t remember his lines, could barely remember his own name, let alone the name or identity of his character. Clenching every muscle possible painfully to keep himself from vomiting, shitting, and sobbing, Caspar had to be carried from the auditorium. That was the last time he would ever perform in front of any sort of group; every time he even thinks about auditioning now, he feels the terror rising in him like a wave. His musical ability is a secret of his now, something he indulges in only privately.
On the Second Thing
Lara Norweg and Kelton Crane never planned on having children. At least, that’s what Caspar has gathered from the fact that his parents were never married, and that while he grew up with his father in Colorado, he and his brother were never treated to a single detail on their mother: photographs, artifacts, not even a name. He would later learn from his stepfather, Lara’s wealthy but infertile husband of ten years at the time of the twins’ birth, that she had elected to not see her boys after their birth. Caspar assumes it was probably a guilt thing.
Kelton was an adequate father, for the time that Caspar spent with him, but once the musical theater was no longer part of the equation, Caspar was always the underdog. While Curtis became the big fish in their small-sea Colorado public school, Caspar faded into the background, developing a bit of a rebellious streak as he crouched on the sidelines of Curtis’ limelight. School lunches consisted of sitting in a corner, strumming disjointed chords on a ukulele, mumbling obscenities about his brother and the “cool kids” who worshipped him, and how they were totally a high school cliché, and wow, those expensive clothese were made by exploited labor of the underaged proletariat anyway, and that good-looking food they were eating was probably made from the aborted fetuses of AIDS-infected sheep in Yemen or something anyway, so it’s not like he was missing out on anything.
This was how he comforted himself, as he watched his brother bask in the limelight through middle school and their first two years of high school, winning awards and positions and accolades left and right. There was a weird look his father’s face got when he was complimented about one of Curtis’ achievements, told “you should be mighty proud of your son” or “this here boy’s going places.” Caspar always summed it up as a weird combination of pride and fulfillment. This was his kid. Caspar was an afterthought. He and his brother found themselves with less and less in common as they grew older, and though they shared DNA, by the time high school rolled around, they were regarding each other as little more than acquaintances.
But one weekend, near the end of the summer between his sophomore and junior years, when his father was working an overnight shift, Caspar decided to have a party. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was a desperate child’s last plea for attention, but of course, Caspar would never admit this to himself. “I didn’t think it would get that out of hand,” he would later protest to the town sheriff, as a large fire in the living room was extinguished and their school’s rejects, misfits, rebels dove for the bushes, beer tucked under arms, pursued by assorted police officers. But it was later that night, when Curtis found out and threatened to spill the beans, that the real shit went down.
It simply followed that the first real face-to-face conversation the two boys had had in multiple years would be a violent argument resulting in a completely trashed living room, kitchen, and front hallway. Needless to say, Kelton was absolutely livid when he returned home the following morning to two mortified boys and a wasteland where their house had once been. Curtis bound by both chivalry and self-preservation, was quick to expose Caspar’s disobedience. Kelton, beside himself with fury, was forced to call up the twins’ mother, Lara Norweg, for the first time since just after their birth, to discuss their punishment. After much loud and heated negotiation, two enraged parents decided that both boys would be shipped off to boarding school as soon as possible. Furthermore, Kelton was so disgusted with Caspar’s ploy (“Did you REALLY think I wasn’t going to notice that my entire office was BURNED to the GROUND?”) that he wanted nothing more to do with the boy, and sent him to live with his mother and her husband in Delaware.
If there had been any string connecting the boys then, that was the blade that snapped it. Caspar left Colorado for Delaware alone, with his guitar and a little notebook where he scribbled lots of “deep, dark” poetry about the entitled little patriarchal fucks who didn’t understand him in his life, particularly that twerpy twin of his. He spent the rest of the summer with his mother and stepfather, who were gracious hosts, but certainly not parents.
In the fall, Caspar and Curtis Crane both arrived as juniors at Baum Academy, Caspar determined to avoid that asshole to the greatest extent possible.
the present...[/b][/size] On the Third Thing
Caspar began volunteering at the local homeless shelter a few days after he began his junior year at Baum. He needed something to distract him, since he didn’t have much to do at this prison that his fuckface of a brother had gotten him incarcerated in. He found that the volunteering was a good way to take his mind off the fury that boiled in his chest upon every thought of his brother. This fundraiser was where he first saw Charity Clarke.
Neither had made any real friends at Baum yet, so the two became friends a bit by default. Caspar sat with her at lunch, since he didn’t have anyone else to sit with, and he wasn’t too keen to sit alone. He studied with her in the library after school, walked back to the dorms with her after dinner, and hung out with her on the weekends. Gradually, he came to accept her as the first real friend he’d ever had. Charity went on to make other friends; the same could not be said for Caspar, who remained his antisocial, caustic self.
On the Fourth Thing
Caspar has grown up feeling like an underdog, which has left him with a bit of a self-imposed obligation to the other underdogs of society. This includes any sort of less-fortunate being, from women (he’s an ardent feminist) to animals (he’s a vegan and will only eat organic foods) to the underpaid (he won’t buy clothing from any of those corporate behemouths and their overexploitation of helpless impoverished children). And after all this being shuffled around the country bullshit, it’s not like he has any real control over his life anyways. He might as well try to control other peoples’, right?
family...[/b][/size]
Lara Norweg (Caspar's Mother)-52, Log cutter at a logging camp
Bruno Norweg (Caspar's Stepfather)-42, Network Coordinator
Caspar Crane (lives with Lara)-16, attends Baum Academy
Kelton Crane-44, Parking Meter Attendant, now lives in Elbert, Colorado
Curtis Crane (Caspar's Twin Brother)-16, also attends Baum Academy.
[/blockquote]
...literature*
title... a christmas carol[/b][/size] monka [/blockquote]
backstory... k so there's this dude named ebnezer scrouge right, and the ghost of christmas present is all "here look at all these different christmases that are happening in the city" also he carries a scabbard with no sword because world peace guys. then he's all like "tiny tim's gonna DIIIIE" and then he's all like "here look at these little kids they're so poor their christmas sucks you suck scrouge bye."
fun fact: the ghost of Christmas present can only exist for one christmas (cuz you know, present) so the one in Dickens' book is actually the 1843rd ghost of Christmas Present. He has 2012 brothers, currently.
...the roleplayer*tell us about you...
...writing*
writing sample/freestyle...[/b][/size] THIS IS COMING SOON[/blockquote]
