application | johnathon marcus doe | oc | splendorocity
Player Information:
Name: Ishmael
Journal: shadhahvar
Method of Contact: AIM @ shadhahvar, eMail @ ashenpaw @ gmail dot com
Previous characters: Haruno Sakura (Naruto)
Character Information:
Full Name: Johnathon Marcus Doe
Series: Original Character
Canon point: N/A
Age: 47
Species: Human
Appearance/PB: Kevin Costner (really from his role in Mr. Brooks) as seen here.
Appearance upon arrival: John will be in a tropical shirt, shorts, sunglasses, with sunblock on his nose, flipflops on his feet, the top few buttons unbuttoned, and a straw hat on his head. He'll be holding a Long Island Ice Tea in one hand, with a tiny umbrella in it.
History:
Previous RP memories: N/A
Bringing someone along?: N/A
Character History:
Short list on his immediate family:
Mother: Jennifer Louis Mark Doe
Father: Jacob William Doe
Sister (younger): Jane Louis Doe
Ex-Wife: Rebecca Caroline Robertson (took back her maiden name after the divorce)
John Doe was born in Idaho to a Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Doe, raised in Montana for the first seven years of his life (where his younger sister was thus born), then brought further west to grow up in the sprawl of Los Angeles when his sister turned four. He went to a decent enough public school (read: it tested well), dealt with his fair share of aches and pains as a middle school (when he started wearing glasses) and in high school (where he tried out for the football team, didn't make it, and ended up joining the Chess Club and the Swim Team -- which he did passingly well for -- to try and meet girls), and did as was expected of him by graduating and going to one of the state schools (to save himself and his parents money) to get his degrees and go on to get a Real World Job, as his dad liked to call it.
College was almost liberating for John, where he managed to make friends with the sorts of people he'd never really talked to back in high school. While his major, business and economics, wasn't one most people found highly stimulating, he actually got invited out to parties often enough that he even got accidentally roofied at one of them. (He still doesn't remember that night all that well.) He met girls, he dated awkwardly, and he was found to be a sweet, if square, guy. None of these relationships ultimately lasted, and he graduated with some honors (but not the highest, as his mother pointed out repeatedly) during the 80's.
John got an internship and worked out in the real world for a year or two afterward, returning to school for graduate work in sociology of all things, which he ultimately didn't finish. He left school with twenty-four units left to complete his masters, and became... a certified public accountant.
John dated off and on through the years, and did pretty well for himself as a CPA. Nothing spectacular, but he made enough to look more attractive to the ladies than he'd ever really been back in college. (Hard truths, if he cared to examine them.) And then, when he was 38, he met Rebecca Robertson.
And it was something more or less like love. Rebecca was a rising talent, even if mostly in her own head, who had a vivacious appreciation for life and living it to the fullest. John still doesn't understand what prompted him into asking her out for dinner, let alone why she agreed (later, he'd find out it was another one of her whimsical spur-of-the-moment decisions), but it started the most turbulent period of John's life.
To others, this is known as marriage. Uncharacteristically fast for anything John usually did, he and Rebecca got caught up in each other (or she in his just-enoughs to support her own almost-there career) and then drove out to Vegas to get married. Which happened, and then they got married again, as Rebecca wanted the big white dress black tie event that she'd previously said was too stuffy for her to deal with when she'd brought up the idea of driving out to Las Vegas and just getting this over with.
John accepted her contradictions, partly (when he was honest with himself) because he found her so attractive and different than anything he himself was, and he appreciated what she brought out in him. Which, aside from him being a doormat, turned out to be the slightly adventurous side, the man who almost went sky-diving, who contemplated going skinny-dipping in Sierra Mountain freshwater falls (and then did), and who almost went bungee-jumping before he realized his fear of heights would make him pass out before he'd even gotten to the top of the jumper itself.
With all that amazing change, John only sought a few other things in his life -- the off-white picket fence house, and the two kids, and the dog, and the mini-van -- most of which Rebecca wanted none of. "Not yet!" to the kids, and eventually, John stopped asking. "Maybe later!" to the dog, who she was sure would shed on everything. "I won't drive something like that!" to the van that he knew they didn't need at that point, and "it's too far out of the city!" to the off-white picket fence houses he could afford.
"Why don't you do more? We could always live in Newport if you just tried harder."
Newport never happened, as Rebecca often reminded John, but eventually the dog did -- a rescue shelter German Shepherd pup (who did, as a matter of fact, shed on everything). Rebecca refused to have anything to do with the dog for the first two years, and John finally found someone he could relate to -- and named him Kennedy, after a certain nostalgia given unto him by his parents.
Rebecca finally came around and started picking up Kennedy's training, actually encouraging John to sign him up for agility classes and things that were meant to keep the shepherd's active mind engaged at all times. John thought this was a great idea, and was happy to have his wife engaged in something he cared about.
Of course, that happiness shattered when he walked in on his wife and the agility dog trainer on his patent leather couch, doing the sorts of things his wife had said weren't proper to do with someone you loved.
Kennedy thumped his tail in greeting, and John started the methodical process of filing for a divorce. (Unfortunately, his wife ended up winning Kennedy in the settlement, and John found that was what he found most irksome about the entire situation. He liked that dog. Hell, he loved him.)
When the divorce settled, something in John turned over a new leaf. In a move that looked like a big "fuck it, world," John sold the house in LA, moved into an apartment in the area, quit his job, and then started working for entry level pay at a Travel Agency located in a chancier part of town. The woman who owned the agency, twenty years his senior and wearing more make-up than half the middle-schoolers in downtown, had an overwhelming, infectious lease on life that was different from the one Rebecca had had in the early years of their marriage, and it's really because of Lucille (she preferred to be called Ms. Ball, even if her last name was Vasquez) that John ended up in the travel agency.
And then ended up traveling. Which is where his life took any turn for the vaguely more interesting, as his first extended trip to Miami proved. While checking out the local scenery (Lucille had a very specific check list of things he absolutely must do, so that he could be well informed for anyone using the agency -- and also feed Lucille's gossip mill) he ended up in one of the various bars, talking with the frequent customers. At what point he found himself tipsy, he didn't know, but it was mid talking about his ex wife, "I guess it counts as ironic that he was doing her doggie style on the couch, right? Is that irony? The hell, I don't know," that there was a coordinated attack on the bar by vampires.
Against other vampires.
... Through various shenanigans that John almost entirely staunchly believes were due to being tipsy, he ended up with one of the injured people at the bar refusing a hospital and ending up stuck in his motel-bed. It wouldn't have been terrible (this stranger's wounds didn't seem to be that bad, and he swore all he needed to do was sleep it off) if sometime during that awkward night spent in the motel chair hadn't ended up with John waking up and staring down at the strange man apparently trying to neck him. John's retaliation was to punch him in the face. (Reflex, he swears!)
There was some awkward conversation and an apology ("Look, I was trying to take your tie off, you were snoring something horrible. Why the hell are you wearing a tie in Miami anyway?") paired with an explanation, and then the guy was gone before morning anyway.
You'd think that was the end of it, but in repeat trips back to Miami, John ended up finding himself in bizarre situations with similar people, including motel-bed-stealing-man, whose name turned out to be Alec. One of the more memorable recent experiences John had in regards to these people involved fending off a group of three teenage girls who had the ridiculous notion in their heads that Alec was actually, actually a vampire. (John refuses to believe in such things. Alec has iron deficiency issues, strange eating habits, and a vitamin D deficiency, but that's it. Well, and a neck, wrist, and thigh fixation, but as far as kinks go, John thinks those are fairly tame as long as Alec never touches him ever.) He never knew being a small time, underground 'rock star' in Miami won you die-hard teenage stalkers, but hey, the more you know.
(Alec being the small time 'rock star' drummer for a band that played in a couple of the area bars and club scenes over the course of the year.)
John was back in Miami for his birthday when he found the music box walking back to his folding chair on the beach. He figured he'd turn it into the lost and found, some kid was going to miss it, probably, and it looked both expensive and old, so it was worth the good Samaritan effort on John's part.
What will confuse him is who hit him on the back of the head and dragged him off to -- somewhere -- in the meantime.
Personality:
John is outwardly... not nonreactive, and not exactly laid back. If you met him at a social function, he'd seem to be the somewhat reserved, not quite socially comfortable guy standing by the food or the decorations who can talk about subjects you usually don't care to hear about. For John, this can come down to discussing fiscal policies, how to properly balance a checkbook, the primary failings in businesses trying to franchise before they have the supporting market, and sinking themselves early on, or, if you talk long enough (or get him drunk enough) the social failings of the world, the United States, and god damn it what the hell are women about anyway.
Until recently, John hasn't liked to take risks in his life. He's a homebody, naturally not a big spender, a fairly neat dresser for work, and then a sweater-wearing guy at home. He has his image of a perfect life (mostly revolving around family) and he still wants it, though his ex-wife's infidelity put his faith in having that perfect little family on the backburner.
And it's been good. Cutting off his "social" ties with the CPA world has left him forced to deal with all sorts of people in a capacity that's supposed to be fun (and is often filled with complaints) -- being a travel agent who literally gets shoved around the country is such a bizarre change, but he's learning to like it. John has spent most of his adult life staying in one place. The switch has allowed him to breathe again.
He is a firm believer in exactly what he wants to believe. (This is a trait that irritated his wife to no end.) While he can and is used as a sort of doormat by the people he cares about, things outside the realm of what he considers normal simply don't exist. He's more likely to explain away discrepancies with a single-minded dedication to "scientific logic" than to accept simpler, more honest explanations, simply because he doesn't know how to handle them. (Like vampires. They're fiction. So Alec, despite what he may or may not choose to call himself -- and Alec doesn't refer to himself as a vampire -- is a guy. Albeit a weird one, but a guy nonetheless, who was born, raised, and bred in the U.S.A. and made a few life choices John never would have for himself, but that's fine.)
He's not all that cool, or up on the current language, and slang that isn't from the 70's, 80's, or 90's is above his head. He knows computers, can handle the internet, but is not a whiz at them by any means, outside of programs like excel, quickbooks, etc. He can use google, he knows the dewi decimal system, and he's reasonably intelligent -- just really damn stubborn, too.
He's also not the best judge of character, and judgmental to boot on top of that. He keeps his first opinions to himself, usually, and doesn't go out of his way to treat people as less than people (goodness, he hated that in highschool, he hasn't done that his entire adult life), but first impressions are pretty important to him. When they change over time (he's not that stubborn) they usually change for the better, or nosedive into the worst. (Hi, Rebecca.)
He's not a deeply emotional man, kind of more bewildered and accepting that shit happens in life, and he's lucky when he as a good moment, so he should appreciate those. He was mind-numbingly happy at first with Rebecca, then pleasantly pleased right up until the couch incident, and then, while he was angry (in a slow sense, his anger tends to build and form a coherent mass before moving out), he was also resigned. He'd always known Rebecca was too good for him, that she needed someone else. Like, apparently, the dog trainer.
Not that he isn't bitter when drunk, or more often bitingly sarcastic, but sober, he tries to be better minded. Tries being key.
When on the offense, against what people are telling him or because he feels attacked, John resorts to using sarcasm that otherwise shows up while inebriated and deflecting the situation away from himself. He's not comfortable around kids, though he likes them; he just doesn't know how to handle them, and he's subsequently awkward with anyone roughly under the age of 18. (Mental age debatable, considering some of the people he's worked with over the years.) He feels a general social responsibility to do right for and by others, figuring it does eventually come back around to him. He also has a pretty stringent view on the black and white of reality; while he might accept moral grays outside of certain laws (mostly tax related, also related to child protection laws and ones dealing with fiscal responsibility and, for some reason, tobacco laws, despite having no smokers in his family), only certain things are allowed to be true or false in "Real Life." a.k.a. in his life. Splendor is false. But since he's here, it's also true. Thus Splendor must be a figment of his imagination. His potentially comatose imagination.
His most common reactions for a while will be confusion, benign amusement at his own apparent potential for the ridiculous, and heavy disbelief that this place is "real." Hey, he met vampires back home, and he doesn't believe in them. It'll take more than just being told to actually accept that Splendor is real, and that everyone in it has nothing to do with John outside of also being pulled in.
John isn't a big smiler, really, and more has a hangdog appearance marking his walk through life. Absurdities are more likely to make him laugh than things he finds humorous. John's also a bit of a food enthusiast, not so much for liking large quantities of food, but for really enjoying good food, one of the few things he would spend money doing, and one of the few things he picked up as a habit over the years -- in addition to cooking. (Which consequentially might be part of why Rebecca chose to marry him in the first place -- John has most the makings of a good housewife in a 1950's sense, minus the taste for dresses or the ability to sew anything other than his fingers together. He's also a fairly inept handyman when it comes to plumbing or electrical wiring, though he does fair okay with hitting things with nails or using screwdrivers to make things stay where they need to stay.)
Extra:
Character Abilities: He can deny reality even when presented with it, if it doesn't fit his concept of reality. He can balance your books if he needs to. He can make a mean omelet.
Possessions: His wallet, credit cards, driver's license (California), a few rewards cards for different companies, two hundred dollars and sixty-eight cents, a picture of Kennedy, tissue paper, and chapstick. Also his clothing.
Anything else: I cannot stress enough how great he is at denying anything that doesn't fit his bill of "normal" and expected. If he takes this place as a manifestation of his own mind, he'll also try to figure out why the hell he's envisioning these things (and fail at his own psychoanalysis). If he decides this is a dream instead, well, same deal.
If the library pulls the "THIS IS NOT A DREAM" book thing then he's going to think he's really, really... messed up.
Samples:
Action/Communication thread/post sample:
Action:
[ John stands still, wondering if this was a repeat of the roofie incident from the 80's. He can't think of any other reason why he's gone from picking up someone's keepsake on the beach to standing in a marble hall, Long Island Ice Tea still in hand.
Wait.
He looks at his drink critically, noting the condensation on the outside of the glass. He brings it to his face, squinting, but it's still the same one he remembers being handed at the beach resort bar. Even the silly little umbrella looked the same. ]
I wonder...
[ He trails off, looking around at the rest of this place. ]
If you can get dream-drunk in a dream.
[ He lifts his Long Island Ice Tea to his lips, and takes a big gulp. Then another, and another. Only one way to find out, and John's not entirely opposed to it.
Then he comes to a realization. ]
I suffered heat-stroke and am currently in a coma in a Miami hospital.
[ He examines the remaining contents of his glass, then downs it all at once. At least alcohol still tastes like alcohol, even when you're comatose and unable to wake up and stuck in some bizarre mental landscape. He supposes it could be worse.
He could be stuck here staring at Rebecca. ]
Log/Prose sample:
Already here =|b
Name: Ishmael
Journal: shadhahvar
Method of Contact: AIM @ shadhahvar, eMail @ ashenpaw @ gmail dot com
Previous characters: Haruno Sakura (Naruto)
Character Information:
Full Name: Johnathon Marcus Doe
Series: Original Character
Canon point: N/A
Age: 47
Species: Human
Appearance/PB: Kevin Costner (really from his role in Mr. Brooks) as seen here.
Appearance upon arrival: John will be in a tropical shirt, shorts, sunglasses, with sunblock on his nose, flipflops on his feet, the top few buttons unbuttoned, and a straw hat on his head. He'll be holding a Long Island Ice Tea in one hand, with a tiny umbrella in it.
History:
Previous RP memories: N/A
Bringing someone along?: N/A
Character History:
Short list on his immediate family:
Mother: Jennifer Louis Mark Doe
Father: Jacob William Doe
Sister (younger): Jane Louis Doe
Ex-Wife: Rebecca Caroline Robertson (took back her maiden name after the divorce)
John Doe was born in Idaho to a Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Doe, raised in Montana for the first seven years of his life (where his younger sister was thus born), then brought further west to grow up in the sprawl of Los Angeles when his sister turned four. He went to a decent enough public school (read: it tested well), dealt with his fair share of aches and pains as a middle school (when he started wearing glasses) and in high school (where he tried out for the football team, didn't make it, and ended up joining the Chess Club and the Swim Team -- which he did passingly well for -- to try and meet girls), and did as was expected of him by graduating and going to one of the state schools (to save himself and his parents money) to get his degrees and go on to get a Real World Job, as his dad liked to call it.
College was almost liberating for John, where he managed to make friends with the sorts of people he'd never really talked to back in high school. While his major, business and economics, wasn't one most people found highly stimulating, he actually got invited out to parties often enough that he even got accidentally roofied at one of them. (He still doesn't remember that night all that well.) He met girls, he dated awkwardly, and he was found to be a sweet, if square, guy. None of these relationships ultimately lasted, and he graduated with some honors (but not the highest, as his mother pointed out repeatedly) during the 80's.
John got an internship and worked out in the real world for a year or two afterward, returning to school for graduate work in sociology of all things, which he ultimately didn't finish. He left school with twenty-four units left to complete his masters, and became... a certified public accountant.
John dated off and on through the years, and did pretty well for himself as a CPA. Nothing spectacular, but he made enough to look more attractive to the ladies than he'd ever really been back in college. (Hard truths, if he cared to examine them.) And then, when he was 38, he met Rebecca Robertson.
And it was something more or less like love. Rebecca was a rising talent, even if mostly in her own head, who had a vivacious appreciation for life and living it to the fullest. John still doesn't understand what prompted him into asking her out for dinner, let alone why she agreed (later, he'd find out it was another one of her whimsical spur-of-the-moment decisions), but it started the most turbulent period of John's life.
To others, this is known as marriage. Uncharacteristically fast for anything John usually did, he and Rebecca got caught up in each other (or she in his just-enoughs to support her own almost-there career) and then drove out to Vegas to get married. Which happened, and then they got married again, as Rebecca wanted the big white dress black tie event that she'd previously said was too stuffy for her to deal with when she'd brought up the idea of driving out to Las Vegas and just getting this over with.
John accepted her contradictions, partly (when he was honest with himself) because he found her so attractive and different than anything he himself was, and he appreciated what she brought out in him. Which, aside from him being a doormat, turned out to be the slightly adventurous side, the man who almost went sky-diving, who contemplated going skinny-dipping in Sierra Mountain freshwater falls (and then did), and who almost went bungee-jumping before he realized his fear of heights would make him pass out before he'd even gotten to the top of the jumper itself.
With all that amazing change, John only sought a few other things in his life -- the off-white picket fence house, and the two kids, and the dog, and the mini-van -- most of which Rebecca wanted none of. "Not yet!" to the kids, and eventually, John stopped asking. "Maybe later!" to the dog, who she was sure would shed on everything. "I won't drive something like that!" to the van that he knew they didn't need at that point, and "it's too far out of the city!" to the off-white picket fence houses he could afford.
"Why don't you do more? We could always live in Newport if you just tried harder."
Newport never happened, as Rebecca often reminded John, but eventually the dog did -- a rescue shelter German Shepherd pup (who did, as a matter of fact, shed on everything). Rebecca refused to have anything to do with the dog for the first two years, and John finally found someone he could relate to -- and named him Kennedy, after a certain nostalgia given unto him by his parents.
Rebecca finally came around and started picking up Kennedy's training, actually encouraging John to sign him up for agility classes and things that were meant to keep the shepherd's active mind engaged at all times. John thought this was a great idea, and was happy to have his wife engaged in something he cared about.
Of course, that happiness shattered when he walked in on his wife and the agility dog trainer on his patent leather couch, doing the sorts of things his wife had said weren't proper to do with someone you loved.
Kennedy thumped his tail in greeting, and John started the methodical process of filing for a divorce. (Unfortunately, his wife ended up winning Kennedy in the settlement, and John found that was what he found most irksome about the entire situation. He liked that dog. Hell, he loved him.)
When the divorce settled, something in John turned over a new leaf. In a move that looked like a big "fuck it, world," John sold the house in LA, moved into an apartment in the area, quit his job, and then started working for entry level pay at a Travel Agency located in a chancier part of town. The woman who owned the agency, twenty years his senior and wearing more make-up than half the middle-schoolers in downtown, had an overwhelming, infectious lease on life that was different from the one Rebecca had had in the early years of their marriage, and it's really because of Lucille (she preferred to be called Ms. Ball, even if her last name was Vasquez) that John ended up in the travel agency.
And then ended up traveling. Which is where his life took any turn for the vaguely more interesting, as his first extended trip to Miami proved. While checking out the local scenery (Lucille had a very specific check list of things he absolutely must do, so that he could be well informed for anyone using the agency -- and also feed Lucille's gossip mill) he ended up in one of the various bars, talking with the frequent customers. At what point he found himself tipsy, he didn't know, but it was mid talking about his ex wife, "I guess it counts as ironic that he was doing her doggie style on the couch, right? Is that irony? The hell, I don't know," that there was a coordinated attack on the bar by vampires.
Against other vampires.
... Through various shenanigans that John almost entirely staunchly believes were due to being tipsy, he ended up with one of the injured people at the bar refusing a hospital and ending up stuck in his motel-bed. It wouldn't have been terrible (this stranger's wounds didn't seem to be that bad, and he swore all he needed to do was sleep it off) if sometime during that awkward night spent in the motel chair hadn't ended up with John waking up and staring down at the strange man apparently trying to neck him. John's retaliation was to punch him in the face. (Reflex, he swears!)
There was some awkward conversation and an apology ("Look, I was trying to take your tie off, you were snoring something horrible. Why the hell are you wearing a tie in Miami anyway?") paired with an explanation, and then the guy was gone before morning anyway.
You'd think that was the end of it, but in repeat trips back to Miami, John ended up finding himself in bizarre situations with similar people, including motel-bed-stealing-man, whose name turned out to be Alec. One of the more memorable recent experiences John had in regards to these people involved fending off a group of three teenage girls who had the ridiculous notion in their heads that Alec was actually, actually a vampire. (John refuses to believe in such things. Alec has iron deficiency issues, strange eating habits, and a vitamin D deficiency, but that's it. Well, and a neck, wrist, and thigh fixation, but as far as kinks go, John thinks those are fairly tame as long as Alec never touches him ever.) He never knew being a small time, underground 'rock star' in Miami won you die-hard teenage stalkers, but hey, the more you know.
(Alec being the small time 'rock star' drummer for a band that played in a couple of the area bars and club scenes over the course of the year.)
John was back in Miami for his birthday when he found the music box walking back to his folding chair on the beach. He figured he'd turn it into the lost and found, some kid was going to miss it, probably, and it looked both expensive and old, so it was worth the good Samaritan effort on John's part.
What will confuse him is who hit him on the back of the head and dragged him off to -- somewhere -- in the meantime.
Personality:
John is outwardly... not nonreactive, and not exactly laid back. If you met him at a social function, he'd seem to be the somewhat reserved, not quite socially comfortable guy standing by the food or the decorations who can talk about subjects you usually don't care to hear about. For John, this can come down to discussing fiscal policies, how to properly balance a checkbook, the primary failings in businesses trying to franchise before they have the supporting market, and sinking themselves early on, or, if you talk long enough (or get him drunk enough) the social failings of the world, the United States, and god damn it what the hell are women about anyway.
Until recently, John hasn't liked to take risks in his life. He's a homebody, naturally not a big spender, a fairly neat dresser for work, and then a sweater-wearing guy at home. He has his image of a perfect life (mostly revolving around family) and he still wants it, though his ex-wife's infidelity put his faith in having that perfect little family on the backburner.
And it's been good. Cutting off his "social" ties with the CPA world has left him forced to deal with all sorts of people in a capacity that's supposed to be fun (and is often filled with complaints) -- being a travel agent who literally gets shoved around the country is such a bizarre change, but he's learning to like it. John has spent most of his adult life staying in one place. The switch has allowed him to breathe again.
He is a firm believer in exactly what he wants to believe. (This is a trait that irritated his wife to no end.) While he can and is used as a sort of doormat by the people he cares about, things outside the realm of what he considers normal simply don't exist. He's more likely to explain away discrepancies with a single-minded dedication to "scientific logic" than to accept simpler, more honest explanations, simply because he doesn't know how to handle them. (Like vampires. They're fiction. So Alec, despite what he may or may not choose to call himself -- and Alec doesn't refer to himself as a vampire -- is a guy. Albeit a weird one, but a guy nonetheless, who was born, raised, and bred in the U.S.A. and made a few life choices John never would have for himself, but that's fine.)
He's not all that cool, or up on the current language, and slang that isn't from the 70's, 80's, or 90's is above his head. He knows computers, can handle the internet, but is not a whiz at them by any means, outside of programs like excel, quickbooks, etc. He can use google, he knows the dewi decimal system, and he's reasonably intelligent -- just really damn stubborn, too.
He's also not the best judge of character, and judgmental to boot on top of that. He keeps his first opinions to himself, usually, and doesn't go out of his way to treat people as less than people (goodness, he hated that in highschool, he hasn't done that his entire adult life), but first impressions are pretty important to him. When they change over time (he's not that stubborn) they usually change for the better, or nosedive into the worst. (Hi, Rebecca.)
He's not a deeply emotional man, kind of more bewildered and accepting that shit happens in life, and he's lucky when he as a good moment, so he should appreciate those. He was mind-numbingly happy at first with Rebecca, then pleasantly pleased right up until the couch incident, and then, while he was angry (in a slow sense, his anger tends to build and form a coherent mass before moving out), he was also resigned. He'd always known Rebecca was too good for him, that she needed someone else. Like, apparently, the dog trainer.
Not that he isn't bitter when drunk, or more often bitingly sarcastic, but sober, he tries to be better minded. Tries being key.
When on the offense, against what people are telling him or because he feels attacked, John resorts to using sarcasm that otherwise shows up while inebriated and deflecting the situation away from himself. He's not comfortable around kids, though he likes them; he just doesn't know how to handle them, and he's subsequently awkward with anyone roughly under the age of 18. (Mental age debatable, considering some of the people he's worked with over the years.) He feels a general social responsibility to do right for and by others, figuring it does eventually come back around to him. He also has a pretty stringent view on the black and white of reality; while he might accept moral grays outside of certain laws (mostly tax related, also related to child protection laws and ones dealing with fiscal responsibility and, for some reason, tobacco laws, despite having no smokers in his family), only certain things are allowed to be true or false in "Real Life." a.k.a. in his life. Splendor is false. But since he's here, it's also true. Thus Splendor must be a figment of his imagination. His potentially comatose imagination.
His most common reactions for a while will be confusion, benign amusement at his own apparent potential for the ridiculous, and heavy disbelief that this place is "real." Hey, he met vampires back home, and he doesn't believe in them. It'll take more than just being told to actually accept that Splendor is real, and that everyone in it has nothing to do with John outside of also being pulled in.
John isn't a big smiler, really, and more has a hangdog appearance marking his walk through life. Absurdities are more likely to make him laugh than things he finds humorous. John's also a bit of a food enthusiast, not so much for liking large quantities of food, but for really enjoying good food, one of the few things he would spend money doing, and one of the few things he picked up as a habit over the years -- in addition to cooking. (Which consequentially might be part of why Rebecca chose to marry him in the first place -- John has most the makings of a good housewife in a 1950's sense, minus the taste for dresses or the ability to sew anything other than his fingers together. He's also a fairly inept handyman when it comes to plumbing or electrical wiring, though he does fair okay with hitting things with nails or using screwdrivers to make things stay where they need to stay.)
Extra:
Character Abilities: He can deny reality even when presented with it, if it doesn't fit his concept of reality. He can balance your books if he needs to. He can make a mean omelet.
Possessions: His wallet, credit cards, driver's license (California), a few rewards cards for different companies, two hundred dollars and sixty-eight cents, a picture of Kennedy, tissue paper, and chapstick. Also his clothing.
Anything else: I cannot stress enough how great he is at denying anything that doesn't fit his bill of "normal" and expected. If he takes this place as a manifestation of his own mind, he'll also try to figure out why the hell he's envisioning these things (and fail at his own psychoanalysis). If he decides this is a dream instead, well, same deal.
If the library pulls the "THIS IS NOT A DREAM" book thing then he's going to think he's really, really... messed up.
Samples:
Action/Communication thread/post sample:
Action:
[ John stands still, wondering if this was a repeat of the roofie incident from the 80's. He can't think of any other reason why he's gone from picking up someone's keepsake on the beach to standing in a marble hall, Long Island Ice Tea still in hand.
Wait.
He looks at his drink critically, noting the condensation on the outside of the glass. He brings it to his face, squinting, but it's still the same one he remembers being handed at the beach resort bar. Even the silly little umbrella looked the same. ]
I wonder...
[ He trails off, looking around at the rest of this place. ]
If you can get dream-drunk in a dream.
[ He lifts his Long Island Ice Tea to his lips, and takes a big gulp. Then another, and another. Only one way to find out, and John's not entirely opposed to it.
Then he comes to a realization. ]
I suffered heat-stroke and am currently in a coma in a Miami hospital.
[ He examines the remaining contents of his glass, then downs it all at once. At least alcohol still tastes like alcohol, even when you're comatose and unable to wake up and stuck in some bizarre mental landscape. He supposes it could be worse.
He could be stuck here staring at Rebecca. ]
Log/Prose sample:
Already here =|b