OOC Post: Personal and Character Details

You
Name: Sal
Age: 24
Location and time zone: Wales, GMT
Email: the_evil_lord_alexander@yahoo.co.uk
AIM: wormtailpeter
YIM: the_evil_lord_alexander
RP Experience: Been online RPing since 2002.

Character (Please include a short description of who the character is in real life, plus an interesting fact or two. As that's just fun)


This is a RP journal for the RP:RPG thecompany_rp. In real life Stephen Fry is a comedian, actor, writer, producer, director and host of various television programmes. He is probably best known for being Oscar Wilde in the 1997 film version of the playwright's life, being Jeeves in Jeeves and Wooster with Hugh Laurie, and being terribly well-educated. I know several interesting facts about him; he was the youngest member of the Sherlock Holmes Appreciation Society; he drives a black cab around London; he was jailed for credit card fraud aged 17; he's lovely. The last might be personal preference.

Name: Stephen Fry
Nickname (if any): Stephen only, if you please.
Date of Birth: 24th August 1957
Position within the company: Something terribly clever with marketing, which means frequent trips to the theatre with rich foreign guests.
Physical Appearance (be detailed): Around six feet four inches tall, Stephen is the sort of man that you notice. Well built, with a double chin and running to fat - he prefers to be big boned, or having a corporation, not fat as that is terribly common - he is just a large man with large hands, and a large nose. At some point this was broken in his childhood, and consequentially Stephen's nose is rather squint, and like the rest of him, bends to the left. He has the sort of florid looks of a deputy headmaster, a rather aquiline profile that is both hawkish and aristocratic though he is definitely neither, and blue eyes that have a twinkle that suggests that Stephen knows without doubt that he is far cleverer than anyone else in his general vicinity. Rather old-fashioned looking, really, he does look like a professor, he has schoolboy floppy hair parted to one side. He also wears reading glasses, rather liking to clasp his hands and look over the tops of them at unsuspecting junior members of staff.

Dress wise he favours smart shirts and cords, tweed jackets with leather patches on the elbows, and brogues. If he is seen in a pair of jeans, Stephen is either dressing down for the day, or is trying to appear hip and funky to attract some sort of attractive male into his life. His ties have something to be desired, and he always insists on wearing black socks.

Personality (again, please be detailed): There is an arrogance smoothed with a charm, a complete confidence in his own abilities that is softened by a self-depreciating wit. Stephen, after all, is a complex man of many sectors. Aware of his own abilities and strangely despising the things he finds he fails at, underneath the charismatic wordy persona is a man who has struggled to come to terms with his own cleverness, homosexuality, and blatant acid wit that has caused far more trouble that it has ever been worth. Stephen may be someone who can explain where to use shall and where to use will but he is plagued by demons of self-doubt that magnify his flaws to the maximum. He has the courage and the strength to try and fight through problems he faces, but Stephen has a cynicism that prohibits him from ever truly beating things that oppose him; he prefers to ignore them and let them go away rather than master.

A lover of words, and language, he talks almost incessantly in that low baritone of his, and it can be difficult for others to get words in edgeways, especially when Stephen is rattling on in words of four syllables or more. He has the widest, most ranging vocabulary, though he is inspired at swearing. There is nothing more rewarding for some than to hear 'wanking bollocky buggeration arses!' screamed through an office when something goes wrong.

Quintessentially English, with a voice that shows both breeding and elocution lessons when young, Stephen likes to play at being the gentleman. He has the clothing, and the voice, the airs and the graces, and really he does pass off as one of the great English eccentrics with flying colours. He is essentially an intellectual, one who strives for greater things such as beauty and poetry, but one who can swear like a navvy and has a filthy sense of humour when needed. Such is his personality that he moulds to other people, playing to what they wish to see; he is a popular man, a social chameleon, but Stephen is never quite sure how many people truly like him.

Character History: The child of an inventor and his Austrian-Jewish descended wife, Stephen has an older brother and a younger sister, though he has perfect middle-child syndrome. His father's work meant that they lived in a rambling old mansion in the middle of Norfolk, and such was the culture of the upper middle classes that Stephen was sent to prep school in Gloucestershire and then public school. Both of these he failed at spectacularly; the first was blighted by a scandal involving slipping out of school and buying sweets, the second where he ended up being expelled for going AWOL and getting incredibly drunk.

This was a turning point in his life. Aged sixteen and having been thrown out of his public school, Stephen, shamed, enrolled in a college in Norfolk with the expressed purpose of entering Cambridge to ready English. To the shock of everyone, including himself, this actually occurred.

Having gained a first in English Literature from Cambridge, Stephen was headhunted by a marketing division of the corporation after a few years working in the city for a merchant bank, and he has risen to a position that isn't quite head of section, but more the power behind the throne. Mostly this involves delegating everything and going on well-paid jollies to various functions. He does spend much time in the office though.

Currently, Stephen is single and living in a smart little bachelor pad in St James, just next to Soho.

Sample First Person Journal Entry (at least two paragraphs):

The veritable vicariousness of those underlings that fret and flit about the office is simply shocking. One would consider their whinings something akin to the cries of the albatross; lonely, futile, yet endless. Bloody put a bollocking sock in your proverbial cakeholes as they say down East End way. Complaining might be profitable and time consuming in a more rewarding way than, say, lopping one's head off with a garden strimmer, but gathering about the portal to your Marketing Bod's chamber of torment does not a happy chappy make.

Perhaps sound proofing? Perhaps the company proviso of industrial strength ear muffs? Perhaps removal of larynx at fifty paces a la whip and Zorro?

My dears, if you have nothing else to do, be good little lambs and trot away to annoy the technical behemoth in it's underground lair. They may be Legion for they are many, but amusing yourselves is something that you should consider. Think of it as mental masturbation techniques practiced on the socially unacceptable.

Sample Third Person RP (at least two paragraphs):

Stephen hated computers.

He had been perfectly at home with his Kenwood typewriter. Bored afternoons when other boys played rugger and swam had been filled with asthma-induced ennui, though it had been self-inflicted in the sort of burying his head in the nearest plant, and Stephen had taught himself to type. His speed on the clackity old machine had been impressive, and since he didn't have a secretary, he maintained his discipline by typing and sending his own letters.

There was only so much that could be done, after all, with marketing a stapler.

He was at his desk, the PC glaring back at him as he ctrl/alt/del for the fourth time. These things were soulless, they had no comforting thud of a metal key against a pristine sheet of paper. There were no frantic erasings with a round rubber, no ting! as the bar reached the end, no rasp of being dragged to the start again. Just a clicker click of flat keys, and the thrurp of the printer.

Argh! No!

Blue screen of death!

Defeated, Stephen took to hanging about his office door in the hope that a) someone would rescue him and b) someone might bring him a nice cup of coffee.