APPLICATION
Character: The Narrator (Jack)
Canon: Fight Club
Version: Book/Movie (Plot wise I'm following the book. The narrator has more development in the novel and it has scenes that aren't in the movie or are in a different order from the movie.)
Canon Point: Just after Tyler abandons Jack and sets off to begin franchising Fight Club without telling Jack he was leaving.
Age: 30
Gender: Male
History:
Here be the wiki. The novel is told from first person perspective, and as it turns out, the history section I started writing is here and here in a more succinct manner. I will, however, expand upon what’s happening at the point in canon where I’m taking Jack from as they sort of skim past that part in both summaries.
With the creation of Project Mayhem, Jack begins to find himself being pushed out of what was originally his and Tyler’s creation. People show up on the doorstep -- members of Fight Club -- to join Project Mayhem, a new more militant expansion of Fight Club. To be allowed in, they have to pass a test, they have to stand on the porch for three days with no food or drink and endure the physical and mental abuse that Tyler and Jack subject them to. It’s a bastardization of a ritual practiced by monks. As more people arrive and pass the test they begin taking over Tyler and Jack’s mansion and the home soon becomes a base of sorts. There are different sectors of Project Mayhem and they receive different tasks that are sect appropriate. As Project Mayhem grows, the sectors begin acting without Jack having any knowledge and when he questions them on it, they quote the first rule of Project Mayhem, which is “You do not ask questions about Project Mayhem.” Tyler is tight lipped on the subject and provides no further answers. The distance between Jack and Tyler grows and Jack begins finding out more and more things that were being kept from him, such as Fight Club taking place every night of the week instead of just on Sundays. Then one day Jack wakes up and Tyler is gone. The sense of rejection Jack feels is huge. And this is where I’ll be taking Jack from in the canon.
Personality:
The first thing one usually notices about Jack is his overall tone: it’s very dry. He has a tendency to speak in something of a monotone -- a result of his insomnia, his dissatisfaction with his life, his dark view of the world, and his practically nonexistent relationship with his father, among many other things. Jack is a cynic.
A clever cynic. He’s chocked full of witty observations about the world. No one is spared from his witty repartee, not even himself. Before Fight Club, Jack suppresses these thoughts by buying completely into the consumerist lifestyle prescribed to him by society. His apartment might as well be straight out of an Ikea catalogue.
He makes it through the meaningful day to day obligations by attending support grops for the terminally ill. Surrounding himself with death is a way to feel more alive and after the cathartic group sessions he’s always able to sleep. At the support groups, Jack is like a warm body in a room full of corpses. Confessions are his weak point. People exposing themselves and making themselves vulnerable are better than tv. Better than real life even.
After Fight Club, Jack is truly reborn. Freed from the shackles of the system, he becomes so fucking ENLIGHTENED. His entire existence is suddenly validated; where he once had no purpose, he suddenly finds meaning. The knowledge that he can get beat to a pulp -- that he can beat someone pulp -- liberates him. He begins to view the world in a whole new way. He becomes empowered.
This empowerment results in a different Jack, a more confident Jack. Not to say that he wasn’t confident before, but with this feeling of self-realization, Jack begins to see himself as both destructible and invincible simultaneously. He can take on everything but death. The way he converses changes. The way he interacts with people shifts. He’ll have a face that’s black and blue and be covered in blood and rather than apologizing for his offensive state, he’ll wear it like a badge. Fuck what everyone else thinks, they’re trapped in their capitalist consumerist coffins anyway.
At the same time, Jack is as dependent as ever. Only instead of support groups and clever Swedish furniture, Jack is addicted to Tyler. Tyler’s purpose is his purpose. Tyler leads Jack into a new way of thinking -- leads him to self-revelation. With Tyler’s anti-consumerism and nihilistic preachings, Jack finds himself enlightened and zen. A man freed from the death grip post-modern society and capitalism has on so many people. He begins writing clever anti-establishment haikus, a true testament to how fucking ZEN he is if anyone would care to notice (which they don’t, much to his chagrin).
In addition to giving Jack a renewed sense of meaning, Tyler also fills the void left by Jack’s father, who abandoned him at six and went off to start a new family before abandoning that one for another new family and so forth (franchising at it’s best). Tying in with Jack’s addiction and dependence on Tyler is his need for validation from him. When Tyler doesn’t meet this need or focuses his attention elsewhere Jack falls victim to emotions like jealousy, and rage, and hurt. Not that anyone beyond Jack knows about that last one.
He becomes a bit loose around this point. He’s confused, aware of his own strength, and volatile. Yet, deep down Jack has a strong moral compass. Where Tyler says, “Push forward!” Jack wants to step back. He has a limit and he knows where too far is. In spite of his cynicism, he also looks for little things, hence the clever observations. He knows that he’s clever and when he comes up with something particularly witty he feels proud of himself. He’s not Tyler and he can’t just say FUCK THE SYSTEM LET’S DESTROY CIVILIZATION because deep down he isn’t that person.
At the end of the novel he comes to the realization that people aren’t special snowflakes but they aren’t shit either. They just are. And while it takes the entire film/novel for him to reach that realization, the fact of the matter is the sentiment is there all along. That’s what keeps him from jumping off the edge every time Tyler tries to push him.
NOTE: I will be playing Jack and Jack alone.
Fears: In spite of Tyler’s influence (until you accept that you will die you are useless to me, calling a near death experience a near life experience, every second of your miserable life you are one step closer to dying, etc), Jack fears death. He values his life. He fights for it when it’s in danger. Jack’s other fear manifests itself through Tyler. One of Tyler’s most profound proclamations is “Your father is your model for God. If he’s abandoned you then what does that tell you about God?” (or something to that effect). In that we have Jack’s fear of abandonment, which is also evident in the way he clings to Tyler and becomes so jealous when it seems that Tyler is replacing him.
Weaknesses: An addictive personality. He’s dependent. He also needs something cathartic in his life to enable him to sleep, whether that be a support group or Fight Club. The insomnia that results when he doesn’t get this catharsis is another weakness.
Mundane Strengths/Abilities: Pain doesn’t scare him. He can beat the shit out of himself and not flinch. He does it every time he fights Tyler and he does it to blackmail his boss. He’s also good at good old brawling. And writing shitty marxist haikus. He’s great at that too.
Sensitivity/Magical Ability: None.
Supply List: He has nothing with him.
Game Transfers: n/a
Sample RP post:
Jack sits in the old chair, hands splayed over the arm rests, and lets his head fall back. The chair smells like old man. The distinct tang of Ivory soap and formaldehyde that burns its way up your nostrils. He knows this was the old man’s favorite chair because his ass doesn’t fit properly in the imprint that’s been left behind.
His ass is boney, but not boney enough.
These are the kinds of things Jack loves. Thinking about that old man finishing his dinner day after day and always retiring to this same burgundy old chair with the wirey upholstery that scratches like a burlap sack.
He presses his ass further into the seat, trying to leave his own imprint.
It doesn’t work. Obviously.
He didn’t really want it to.
I am Joe’s heart stopping sense of relief.
Yesterday when he was trying to override the old man’s assprint, Jack found a sample sized box of Cracker Jack under the cushion. It had pressed right back against his puckered butt hole and he had jumped off the seat like a little girl.
Little bits of fluff were snagged on the crushed corners of the box and a film of white dust covered it’s surface, catching his fingerprints as if he was a grubby five year old all over again.
He’d eaten the stale popcorn even though the expiry date on the box said 21-03-1979.
It had practically turned to dust in his mouth.
Jack is still wearing the plastic blue ring he’d found tucked away at the bottom of the box. The gold band is edged with a lethal ring of plastic that he, by some chance happenstance, cut his arm on earlier today. It’s a piece of shit.
Probably made by some ten year old girl in a factor in Thailand.
He keeps it on anyway.
It’s not like the old man is gonna find any use it.
Jack looks at the clock. A huge oak or birch or elm grandfather clock that chimes every hour.
It’s the most annoying fucking sound in the world.
At night it keeps track of every hour that he doesn’t fall asleep.
When you’re an insomniac it’s like The Song That Never Ends. Only worse. Because someone always gets bored of The Song That Never Ends and stops singing it.
The clock doesn’t get bored and stop chiming.
The door to the room opens.
A broad figure lazes against the door frame, a silhouette against the backdrop of the sun outside.
“About time,” Jack says but his voice is swallowed up as the grandfather clock chimes.
One day he’s going to break that fucking thing.
Canon: Fight Club
Version: Book/Movie (Plot wise I'm following the book. The narrator has more development in the novel and it has scenes that aren't in the movie or are in a different order from the movie.)
Canon Point: Just after Tyler abandons Jack and sets off to begin franchising Fight Club without telling Jack he was leaving.
Age: 30
Gender: Male
History:
Here be the wiki. The novel is told from first person perspective, and as it turns out, the history section I started writing is here and here in a more succinct manner. I will, however, expand upon what’s happening at the point in canon where I’m taking Jack from as they sort of skim past that part in both summaries.
With the creation of Project Mayhem, Jack begins to find himself being pushed out of what was originally his and Tyler’s creation. People show up on the doorstep -- members of Fight Club -- to join Project Mayhem, a new more militant expansion of Fight Club. To be allowed in, they have to pass a test, they have to stand on the porch for three days with no food or drink and endure the physical and mental abuse that Tyler and Jack subject them to. It’s a bastardization of a ritual practiced by monks. As more people arrive and pass the test they begin taking over Tyler and Jack’s mansion and the home soon becomes a base of sorts. There are different sectors of Project Mayhem and they receive different tasks that are sect appropriate. As Project Mayhem grows, the sectors begin acting without Jack having any knowledge and when he questions them on it, they quote the first rule of Project Mayhem, which is “You do not ask questions about Project Mayhem.” Tyler is tight lipped on the subject and provides no further answers. The distance between Jack and Tyler grows and Jack begins finding out more and more things that were being kept from him, such as Fight Club taking place every night of the week instead of just on Sundays. Then one day Jack wakes up and Tyler is gone. The sense of rejection Jack feels is huge. And this is where I’ll be taking Jack from in the canon.
Personality:
The first thing one usually notices about Jack is his overall tone: it’s very dry. He has a tendency to speak in something of a monotone -- a result of his insomnia, his dissatisfaction with his life, his dark view of the world, and his practically nonexistent relationship with his father, among many other things. Jack is a cynic.
A clever cynic. He’s chocked full of witty observations about the world. No one is spared from his witty repartee, not even himself. Before Fight Club, Jack suppresses these thoughts by buying completely into the consumerist lifestyle prescribed to him by society. His apartment might as well be straight out of an Ikea catalogue.
He makes it through the meaningful day to day obligations by attending support grops for the terminally ill. Surrounding himself with death is a way to feel more alive and after the cathartic group sessions he’s always able to sleep. At the support groups, Jack is like a warm body in a room full of corpses. Confessions are his weak point. People exposing themselves and making themselves vulnerable are better than tv. Better than real life even.
After Fight Club, Jack is truly reborn. Freed from the shackles of the system, he becomes so fucking ENLIGHTENED. His entire existence is suddenly validated; where he once had no purpose, he suddenly finds meaning. The knowledge that he can get beat to a pulp -- that he can beat someone pulp -- liberates him. He begins to view the world in a whole new way. He becomes empowered.
This empowerment results in a different Jack, a more confident Jack. Not to say that he wasn’t confident before, but with this feeling of self-realization, Jack begins to see himself as both destructible and invincible simultaneously. He can take on everything but death. The way he converses changes. The way he interacts with people shifts. He’ll have a face that’s black and blue and be covered in blood and rather than apologizing for his offensive state, he’ll wear it like a badge. Fuck what everyone else thinks, they’re trapped in their capitalist consumerist coffins anyway.
At the same time, Jack is as dependent as ever. Only instead of support groups and clever Swedish furniture, Jack is addicted to Tyler. Tyler’s purpose is his purpose. Tyler leads Jack into a new way of thinking -- leads him to self-revelation. With Tyler’s anti-consumerism and nihilistic preachings, Jack finds himself enlightened and zen. A man freed from the death grip post-modern society and capitalism has on so many people. He begins writing clever anti-establishment haikus, a true testament to how fucking ZEN he is if anyone would care to notice (which they don’t, much to his chagrin).
In addition to giving Jack a renewed sense of meaning, Tyler also fills the void left by Jack’s father, who abandoned him at six and went off to start a new family before abandoning that one for another new family and so forth (franchising at it’s best). Tying in with Jack’s addiction and dependence on Tyler is his need for validation from him. When Tyler doesn’t meet this need or focuses his attention elsewhere Jack falls victim to emotions like jealousy, and rage, and hurt. Not that anyone beyond Jack knows about that last one.
He becomes a bit loose around this point. He’s confused, aware of his own strength, and volatile. Yet, deep down Jack has a strong moral compass. Where Tyler says, “Push forward!” Jack wants to step back. He has a limit and he knows where too far is. In spite of his cynicism, he also looks for little things, hence the clever observations. He knows that he’s clever and when he comes up with something particularly witty he feels proud of himself. He’s not Tyler and he can’t just say FUCK THE SYSTEM LET’S DESTROY CIVILIZATION because deep down he isn’t that person.
At the end of the novel he comes to the realization that people aren’t special snowflakes but they aren’t shit either. They just are. And while it takes the entire film/novel for him to reach that realization, the fact of the matter is the sentiment is there all along. That’s what keeps him from jumping off the edge every time Tyler tries to push him.
NOTE: I will be playing Jack and Jack alone.
Fears: In spite of Tyler’s influence (until you accept that you will die you are useless to me, calling a near death experience a near life experience, every second of your miserable life you are one step closer to dying, etc), Jack fears death. He values his life. He fights for it when it’s in danger. Jack’s other fear manifests itself through Tyler. One of Tyler’s most profound proclamations is “Your father is your model for God. If he’s abandoned you then what does that tell you about God?” (or something to that effect). In that we have Jack’s fear of abandonment, which is also evident in the way he clings to Tyler and becomes so jealous when it seems that Tyler is replacing him.
Weaknesses: An addictive personality. He’s dependent. He also needs something cathartic in his life to enable him to sleep, whether that be a support group or Fight Club. The insomnia that results when he doesn’t get this catharsis is another weakness.
Mundane Strengths/Abilities: Pain doesn’t scare him. He can beat the shit out of himself and not flinch. He does it every time he fights Tyler and he does it to blackmail his boss. He’s also good at good old brawling. And writing shitty marxist haikus. He’s great at that too.
Sensitivity/Magical Ability: None.
Supply List: He has nothing with him.
Game Transfers: n/a
Sample RP post:
Jack sits in the old chair, hands splayed over the arm rests, and lets his head fall back. The chair smells like old man. The distinct tang of Ivory soap and formaldehyde that burns its way up your nostrils. He knows this was the old man’s favorite chair because his ass doesn’t fit properly in the imprint that’s been left behind.
His ass is boney, but not boney enough.
These are the kinds of things Jack loves. Thinking about that old man finishing his dinner day after day and always retiring to this same burgundy old chair with the wirey upholstery that scratches like a burlap sack.
He presses his ass further into the seat, trying to leave his own imprint.
It doesn’t work. Obviously.
He didn’t really want it to.
I am Joe’s heart stopping sense of relief.
Yesterday when he was trying to override the old man’s assprint, Jack found a sample sized box of Cracker Jack under the cushion. It had pressed right back against his puckered butt hole and he had jumped off the seat like a little girl.
Little bits of fluff were snagged on the crushed corners of the box and a film of white dust covered it’s surface, catching his fingerprints as if he was a grubby five year old all over again.
He’d eaten the stale popcorn even though the expiry date on the box said 21-03-1979.
It had practically turned to dust in his mouth.
Jack is still wearing the plastic blue ring he’d found tucked away at the bottom of the box. The gold band is edged with a lethal ring of plastic that he, by some chance happenstance, cut his arm on earlier today. It’s a piece of shit.
Probably made by some ten year old girl in a factor in Thailand.
He keeps it on anyway.
It’s not like the old man is gonna find any use it.
Jack looks at the clock. A huge oak or birch or elm grandfather clock that chimes every hour.
It’s the most annoying fucking sound in the world.
At night it keeps track of every hour that he doesn’t fall asleep.
When you’re an insomniac it’s like The Song That Never Ends. Only worse. Because someone always gets bored of The Song That Never Ends and stops singing it.
The clock doesn’t get bored and stop chiming.
The door to the room opens.
A broad figure lazes against the door frame, a silhouette against the backdrop of the sun outside.
“About time,” Jack says but his voice is swallowed up as the grandfather clock chimes.
One day he’s going to break that fucking thing.