Sing App~
Player Information
Your Nickname: Rachel
OOC Journal: thepuppyeyes
Under 18? nope
Email/IM: AIM: microwavedurmom, Plurk: thepuppyeyes
Characters Played at Singularity: none
Character Information
Name: Castor/Zuse
Name of Canon: Tron: Evolution & Tron: Legacy
Reference: Castor's wiki page
Canon Point: just after he takes Flynn's disc~
Setting:
In 1982, a computer hacker named Kevin Flynn stumbled across a world that he never believed he would find. While working at ENCOM, the brilliant young programmer began designing video games as a side project. Another programmer, Ed Dillinger, happened to find them and fired Flynn, taking credit for the games himself. Enraged, Flynn took it upon himself to hack into the system and find the missing data that proved that he, not Dillinger, had invented the games. When his hacking brought him a little too close to what he was searching for, the MCP, Master Control Program, zapped him into the digital world.
Thus began the legacy of Kevin Flynn's digital frontier. With the help of the Programs Tron and Ram. Flynn found the data he was searching for, and soon after became CEO of ENCOM. He built his own system which he named the Grid and visited it frequently. He constructed Programs to populate and perfect the system. Flynn cared for all of his Programs, but he loved none more than Clu, his digital clone that he anointed systems administrator.
A few years after the inception of the Grid, the ISOs manifested. Isomorphic algorithms. Programs with no specified designation. Flynn delighted in them and their complex coding, but many did not. Whether it be coincidence or not, the number of gridbugs increased exponentially around the same time as the arrival of the ISOs, and 5 years later, an ISO mutated into the most deadly Virus the Grid had ever seen.
The Programs now known as Basics began to take sides. Zuse's club, End of Line, became a safehouse for ISOs that traveled outside of their city, Arija. ISOs intrigued and fascinated Zuse, and he took a particular liking to the beautiful and curious Quorra.
Clu rebelled from Flynn and lashed out, ordering a genocide on the ISOs whom he believed were imperfect and corrupting the system. End of Line was bombed, and along with the ISOs, Zuse vanished.
Flynn was forced into exile, taking Quorra with him. She was now the last of her kind and he wanted to ensure her safety. Clu took control of the Grid and eliminated all those that stood in his way.
Zuse reappeared after all the dust had settled, this time taking on the name of Castor. He started up another club, this one also called End of Line, and for a time he used it to secretly assist Programs who had been sympathetic towards the ISOs and Flynn.
As the cycles dragged on, however, Castor changed. IT was easy to forget what he had once valued when he was living the high life. He no longer offered help unless he was guaranteed something he wanted in return, and began plotting to take control of Tron City.
Personality:
Zuse is a very quirky and clever Program. He's been around practically since the initiation of the Grid and loves to hear all the news about everything. He's incredibly astute, and using his knowledge of the past and present, he's able to make very shrewd predictions of the future that are nearly always right. This brings Programs to him from all places seeking for his advice and information.
Zuse is incredibly fond of the ISOs, partially because of all the information they contain. Just like Flynn, he is completely taken with their unusual behavior and lack of distinct functions. He openly supports them in the beginning, but after the Purge he is quick to suppress this. He's a bit of a coward and prefers to stay on Clu's good side. All the enemies of Clu have been wiped off the map, and Zuse is not eager to be one of those.
Out of a desire to stay hidden, Zuse creates the identity of Castor, forging a new disc and reinventing himself. He claims to be Zuse's confidante and something of a bouncer, using excuse after excuse to deflect Programs who he doesn't find interesting enough to hold his attention. He despises wasting time with those he views as below him. He has a very high opinion of himself and refuses to associate with Programs of little consequence. Castor's club is Grid-renowned for his original drinks and popular music, but is only open to the upper-class.
Castor is one of the few Programs with a personality closer to that of a User. He has a rather interesting sense of humor and in some ways resembles a much younger Flynn with his excitable behavior. He's flamboyant and outlandish, but he always has to cover all the angles.
He's rather self-centered and doesn't think so much of others than he does of himself and how things will affect him. In his mind, “all the angles” are the ones that involve him and what impact his decisions and those of others will affect him. Castor is not fond of the idea of deresolution and will take whatever course necessary to avoid it, even if it hurts others. This also affects the mysterious, all-knowing Zuse persona that assists those he deems worthy. He chooses to help Programs with whom he can still remain neutral. If word of his speaking with someone pro-ISO gets out to Clu, he'll be in trouble. The Programs he helps have to also have something he can gain from them, whether it be information or material things such as wealth and property.
Abilities, Weaknesses, and Power Limitation Suggestions:
+barkeep and designer
+has access to a LOT of information
+charismatic
+has the ability to unite the separate factions under one banner
+can quickly analyze consequences of an action
+has this handy cane that stores energy and expends the energy as little laser bullets
= can play both sides without revealing his true colors
-has difficulty communicating his true feelings because of a desire to keep up appearances
-tends to lose sight of what really matters to him amidst the glamor and the glitz
Power Limitation Suggestions: take away his booze?
Inventory:
1 identity disc
1 decorative cane that can shoot lasers (not even kidding)
1 Siren/arm candy
Appearance: Castor is as white as they come. Played by a heavily makeup'd here.
Age: Castor's age is never specifically stated, though he is one of the oldest Programs on the Grid. If Flynn rebuilt the modified Grid in 1982 (as most of us agree), then he is around 29. However, the Tron fandom is notorious for screwing over timelines, so the only thing we can say for sure is that he is at least 25 User years old. He appears to be in his mid- to late thirties.
Samples
Log Sample:
Castor paced anxiously in his private lounge, more agitated than he could ever remember being in his life. He’d asked to be completely alone, even isolating himself from Gem, whom he trusted above all other Programs.
The fact of the matter was that this was something he had to work out on his own. Betraying the son of Flynn had been relatively easy, practically second nature, yet already he was feeling the impact of the decision he’d made. He hardly ever regretted those choices he’d made with needy Programs, but this time was entirely different.
Maybe it was because this time there were possible deaths on his hands. Not the Programs; he could hardly care less as to what happened to those beneath him. No, Castor was concerned that perhaps had just indirectly murdered two Users and an ISO, possibly the three most important beings that had ever been on the Grid.
Yet he hoped. He wasn’t what could be defined as a believer, but even he could not deny that the Creator had powers unlike anything the Programs had ever seen. If anyone could survive what had happened, it was him.
Then there was the look that Quorra had given him. It had struck to his very core. Her eyes had been full of that fire that he remembered too well, the drive that he had always so admired in her. He recalled the electricity that had passed when their gazes had met. Even now, after over a thousand cycles, she still had a powerful hold over him.
Castor poured himself a drink with trembling hands and sat down, turning over Flynn’s disc in his hands. He had his choice now to take power. With this disc and a few well-placed compliments, Tron City was his. He could think about Quorra and the Users later. For now, he needed to get a hold on himself and focus on what was to happen next.
He emerged from his lounge, smiling brightly at Gem and waving the disc. “Let’s contact our beloved Systems Administrator, shall we? I believe Clu will be very interested in what we’ve got for him.”
Network Sample:
Castor had no recollection of powering down, but he knew he must have done so at some point. He regained his senses bit by bit, slowly coming to realize that he was face down on a cold hard surface. He didn't bother moving just yet. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd woken like this. It wasn't uncommon for the flamboyant barkeep to drink until he shorted out, though only on nights when he shut down the club early for a little 'me time', better known as stress drinking.
What was unusual was the voice that awoke him. He was used to Gem's hand on his back and her lips at his ear, her reassuring voice coaxing him back steadily into consciousness. But the cool, female voice that echoed around him was definitely not Gem's.
“Welcome to Sacrosanct. Please watch your step.”
Castor's pale eyes blinked open in confusion and he staggered to his feet. He took in his unfamiliar surroundings quickly, working hard to quash the sudden stirrings of panic in his belly.
No, no, no. This wasn't happening. Castor made the rules, he decided what happened in his life. And never, ever, would he decide to shut down in a pile of junk.
There had to be some logical explanation. He had to have gotten here somehow. He searched through his memory files quickly, trying to determine just how this had happened.
Flynn's disc! He remembered now. He'd just retrieved it from the last of the Black Guards that had so rudely driven off his customers. But that had been it, his key to obtaining Tron City from Clu. Everything was going perfectly. Then that horrible sensation had come over him. Castor shuddered in recollection. It had been like very molecule in his body was ripping apart, splitting him into a million tiny pieces. It hadn't lasted long, he recalled, only a moment, and then he was falling. He must have blacked out after that.
He needed to find that disc! Castor dug frantically through the piles of rubbish. An undignified cry escaped him as a heap of rocks tumbled down from above, pinning him down by the sleeve. Pain shot through his arm and a grimace twisted his chalky lips. Clearly this was just not his 'cycle. He tried to tug his arm free, pushing against the rock with his free hand and all of his mediocre strength. It budged just barely, but enough for Castor to yank his arm free. The horrible sound of tearing fabric made him wince sharply.
His sleeve had torn off from the elbow, exposing a skinny white arm that was rapidly purpling from what was soon to be a wicked bruise.
“Glitch!” Castor cursed in frustration.
He cast about angrily for something to blame his misfortune on and instead spotted something white and translucent amidst the garbage.
Well, at least he had his cane.