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Five Stolen Cities Application
Aug. 7th, 2014 07:04 pmPLAYER
player name: QV
pronouns: Traditional male (he/him/his)
age: 19
contact:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
questionableveracity or applestoatoms@gmail.com (primary email address and AIM handle)
CHARACTER
character name: Cecil Gershwin Palmer
character title: The Enthusiastic Journalist
age: Late 20's-ish
gender: Something approaching male from the general direction of the void (he/him/his)
species: Human (Alive)
strengths: Persuasive and Watchful
canon history:
Welcome to Night Vale is a twice-monthly podcast fashioned after a small town public radio show. It is hosted by Cecil Palmer and takes place in the fictional town of Night Vale, a small desert community which happens to be the stomping ground of various branches of the world government, a host of angels, a literal five-headed dragon, unknowable buzzing hooded figures, a troubled but strong tarantula community, and various other creatures and things that come rolling in from places unknown. The wiki page linked above summarizes the very basics of how Cecil got his job in public radio (as foretold on the tablets in front of City Hall), and this one is the start of a series of loose summaries of previous episodes.
AU history:
Cecil's story is best told by starting with his mother; a native American woman who traveled across the ocean and wandered Europe and parts of northern Africa for some time before inevitably being drawn to the Fifth City like a very odd moth to an equally odd and guttering candle-flame (though the details - including even which America she came from - are unclear). She brought with her two children - or was it three? - and settled in the Clay Quarters for something like a decade before disappearing without a trace.
It wasn't wholly unexpected. Ms. Palmer (for the father of her children was nowhere to be found) had never been a particularly attentive caretaker, and in fact had an odd habit of spending days at a time actively hiding from her daughter and son - or sons? - and it was under these conditions that Cecil learned to be moderately self-sufficient, or at least spot people he could reliably charm into giving him things like books or lessons or food. Charismatic child that he was, Cecil was able to find a great many of them, and despite the stunning levels of parental neglect for a non-urchin he was able to reach adulthood in one piece, with an education to rival that of some nobility, and discover his true calling: being a massive, reprehensible gossip.
Or journalism, as it's more charitably known. Cecil's uncanny ability to collect information, his inability to refrain from sharing it, and his love of language in all its forms made him an ideal newspaper man and it wasn't long before one of the many (many, many) publishers of the Neath snapped him up. He is currently employed by the Veilgarden Nightly, a moderately successful paper whose owner has never been seen by anyone at all in all its years of operation.
Oh, and there may have been something in there about a catastrophic and traumatic childhood incident with mirrors and that brother that Cecil either had once but has almost completely forgotten or never had at all but has fabricated vague and clouded memories of, but that's probably not important. Cecil can't remember either clearly enough to explain it, and his sister has never been very good at straightforward conversation. She takes after her mother that way.
personality:
Cecil is probably best described as having something of a dual nature. As a lifelong citizen of the Fifth City, there are very few things that phase him and, on the rare occasions where they do, he's usually able to accept them and take them in stride no matter how horrifying the thing in question is. However, there are exceptions to this, and those exceptions are very pronounced. Things outside of Cecil's conception of Neathly life - such as most things to do with the surface up to and including the sun, grass, and rain - set him on edge, and there are a few things of which he is so wholeheartedly certain that the merest mention of a conflicting opinion can cause him to work himself into a froth, but these are few and far between.
Also causing some cognitive dissonance is Cecil's approach to politics and reporting. For example, taken at face value he appears to be a fierce loyalist who supports the Empress's (nee Queen's) decision to sell the Fifth City to the Bazaar - which is wholly benevolent and has brought commerce and culture to the Fifth City's people - but his insistent, deliberate, and often unprompted repetition of this makes him sound less than convinced at times, to the point where it's genuinely difficult to tell where his loyalties lie. Similarly, his enthusiastic support of the constables, neddy men, and even the Masters often come edged with detailed recountings of their more brutal actions, lined with seemingly deliberately flimsy excuses and sympathetic descriptions of their victims. Occasionally he even comes out in open, explicit, nonsarcastic support of unionist or rubbery or LB movements, while simultaneously insisting that they are not real people. He is hugely informed on all of the goings-on in the Neath, but seems strangely and - oddly enough - genuinely oblivious to the implications of a great many of the things he learns, up to and including the Great Game itself. More than once he's offhandedly brought up crucial information about its most secretive agents as casually as one would discuss the state of a mutual friend's love life.
Overall, Cecil Palmer is an easygoing, friendly, and talkative man except for when he isn't, which happens at arbitrary times over seemingly arbitrary infractions, during which he becomes a terrifying presence more zealous than the most devout of Christian crusaders. He's extremely observant when he's not shockingly unaware of his surroundings - he's a frequent victim of pickpocketing, which would be a much bigger deal if he didn't store all of his currencies and important documents in his left leg, which is hollow and made of clay. He values life both human and nonhuman alike and celebrates its sheer improbability, but was hired by the Veilgarden Nightly specifically for his borderline gleeful descriptions of noteworthy deaths. The one thing that remains most constant is that he loves conversation. He loves talking about himself, he loves talking about other people, he loves listening to other people talk about themselves or himself or other people. People are the most interesting things in the world, and Cecil loves hearing all about them and sharing his own stories in turn.
samples:
[one]
[two]
The Enthusiastic Journalist at his writing desk is something of a sight to behold. Well, perhaps it's not accurate to call it a writing desk so much as a large dining table sawed in half with the now-unsupported middle section nailed haphazardly to the wall, because it's difficult to get good wooden furniture in the Fifth City and a flat worksurface is a flat worksurface so you take what you can get. The point is that the Journalist, at his designated work space within the Veilgarden Nightly's offices, is a sight to behold.
"Khoshekh," he calls, loudly, over his shoulder. "Khoshekh, how does this sound to you?” Clearing his throat, he begins to read off of the typed sheet in the typewriter in front of him. “‘Over the course of the next several months, the Masters of the Bazaar will be lifting a great many of the restrictions previously in place on immigration into the Fifth City, in the hopes that the increased numbers of new arrivals will further boost our city’s economy. When approached for an interview about what lead them to this decision, the Masters’ representative simply cackled, their harsh laughter reverberating off of the cold stone walls of the commerce center office, and told us to get lost.
“‘The Masters, as we all know, are the strange and otherworldly hooded beings who purchased the Fifth City from the British queen around thirty years ago in a transaction where both parties were on equal footing and where no emotional manipulation or any other underhanded business practices were used at all, and moved it to its current Neathly home. As such, it only stands to reason that they were too busy with all of the administrative duties of running a displaced city to speak with us, but our dedication to thoroughness in journalism here at the Veilgarden Nightly means that we will not, at any point, stop trying.’ Do you think it sounds too self-aggrandizing? I mean, it’s true, of course, but I don’t want to seem like a braggart.”
The Journalist waits silently for a response, but receives none. Turning in his chair to look behind him, he finds that the station cat has since moved elsewhere, and that he has been talking to no one. He blinks, slowly, before returning to his work.
“Oh well,” he says, now deliberately speaking to no one instead of attempting to speak to someone who is not there. “I’ll just see what I can do about that last part.”
player name: QV
pronouns: Traditional male (he/him/his)
age: 19
contact:
CHARACTER
character name: Cecil Gershwin Palmer
character title: The Enthusiastic Journalist
age: Late 20's-ish
gender: Something approaching male from the general direction of the void (he/him/his)
species: Human (Alive)
strengths: Persuasive and Watchful
canon history:
Welcome to Night Vale is a twice-monthly podcast fashioned after a small town public radio show. It is hosted by Cecil Palmer and takes place in the fictional town of Night Vale, a small desert community which happens to be the stomping ground of various branches of the world government, a host of angels, a literal five-headed dragon, unknowable buzzing hooded figures, a troubled but strong tarantula community, and various other creatures and things that come rolling in from places unknown. The wiki page linked above summarizes the very basics of how Cecil got his job in public radio (as foretold on the tablets in front of City Hall), and this one is the start of a series of loose summaries of previous episodes.
AU history:
Cecil's story is best told by starting with his mother; a native American woman who traveled across the ocean and wandered Europe and parts of northern Africa for some time before inevitably being drawn to the Fifth City like a very odd moth to an equally odd and guttering candle-flame (though the details - including even which America she came from - are unclear). She brought with her two children - or was it three? - and settled in the Clay Quarters for something like a decade before disappearing without a trace.
It wasn't wholly unexpected. Ms. Palmer (for the father of her children was nowhere to be found) had never been a particularly attentive caretaker, and in fact had an odd habit of spending days at a time actively hiding from her daughter and son - or sons? - and it was under these conditions that Cecil learned to be moderately self-sufficient, or at least spot people he could reliably charm into giving him things like books or lessons or food. Charismatic child that he was, Cecil was able to find a great many of them, and despite the stunning levels of parental neglect for a non-urchin he was able to reach adulthood in one piece, with an education to rival that of some nobility, and discover his true calling: being a massive, reprehensible gossip.
Or journalism, as it's more charitably known. Cecil's uncanny ability to collect information, his inability to refrain from sharing it, and his love of language in all its forms made him an ideal newspaper man and it wasn't long before one of the many (many, many) publishers of the Neath snapped him up. He is currently employed by the Veilgarden Nightly, a moderately successful paper whose owner has never been seen by anyone at all in all its years of operation.
Oh, and there may have been something in there about a catastrophic and traumatic childhood incident with mirrors and that brother that Cecil either had once but has almost completely forgotten or never had at all but has fabricated vague and clouded memories of, but that's probably not important. Cecil can't remember either clearly enough to explain it, and his sister has never been very good at straightforward conversation. She takes after her mother that way.
personality:
Cecil is probably best described as having something of a dual nature. As a lifelong citizen of the Fifth City, there are very few things that phase him and, on the rare occasions where they do, he's usually able to accept them and take them in stride no matter how horrifying the thing in question is. However, there are exceptions to this, and those exceptions are very pronounced. Things outside of Cecil's conception of Neathly life - such as most things to do with the surface up to and including the sun, grass, and rain - set him on edge, and there are a few things of which he is so wholeheartedly certain that the merest mention of a conflicting opinion can cause him to work himself into a froth, but these are few and far between.
Also causing some cognitive dissonance is Cecil's approach to politics and reporting. For example, taken at face value he appears to be a fierce loyalist who supports the Empress's (nee Queen's) decision to sell the Fifth City to the Bazaar - which is wholly benevolent and has brought commerce and culture to the Fifth City's people - but his insistent, deliberate, and often unprompted repetition of this makes him sound less than convinced at times, to the point where it's genuinely difficult to tell where his loyalties lie. Similarly, his enthusiastic support of the constables, neddy men, and even the Masters often come edged with detailed recountings of their more brutal actions, lined with seemingly deliberately flimsy excuses and sympathetic descriptions of their victims. Occasionally he even comes out in open, explicit, nonsarcastic support of unionist or rubbery or LB movements, while simultaneously insisting that they are not real people. He is hugely informed on all of the goings-on in the Neath, but seems strangely and - oddly enough - genuinely oblivious to the implications of a great many of the things he learns, up to and including the Great Game itself. More than once he's offhandedly brought up crucial information about its most secretive agents as casually as one would discuss the state of a mutual friend's love life.
Overall, Cecil Palmer is an easygoing, friendly, and talkative man except for when he isn't, which happens at arbitrary times over seemingly arbitrary infractions, during which he becomes a terrifying presence more zealous than the most devout of Christian crusaders. He's extremely observant when he's not shockingly unaware of his surroundings - he's a frequent victim of pickpocketing, which would be a much bigger deal if he didn't store all of his currencies and important documents in his left leg, which is hollow and made of clay. He values life both human and nonhuman alike and celebrates its sheer improbability, but was hired by the Veilgarden Nightly specifically for his borderline gleeful descriptions of noteworthy deaths. The one thing that remains most constant is that he loves conversation. He loves talking about himself, he loves talking about other people, he loves listening to other people talk about themselves or himself or other people. People are the most interesting things in the world, and Cecil loves hearing all about them and sharing his own stories in turn.
samples:
[one]
[two]
The Enthusiastic Journalist at his writing desk is something of a sight to behold. Well, perhaps it's not accurate to call it a writing desk so much as a large dining table sawed in half with the now-unsupported middle section nailed haphazardly to the wall, because it's difficult to get good wooden furniture in the Fifth City and a flat worksurface is a flat worksurface so you take what you can get. The point is that the Journalist, at his designated work space within the Veilgarden Nightly's offices, is a sight to behold.
"Khoshekh," he calls, loudly, over his shoulder. "Khoshekh, how does this sound to you?” Clearing his throat, he begins to read off of the typed sheet in the typewriter in front of him. “‘Over the course of the next several months, the Masters of the Bazaar will be lifting a great many of the restrictions previously in place on immigration into the Fifth City, in the hopes that the increased numbers of new arrivals will further boost our city’s economy. When approached for an interview about what lead them to this decision, the Masters’ representative simply cackled, their harsh laughter reverberating off of the cold stone walls of the commerce center office, and told us to get lost.
“‘The Masters, as we all know, are the strange and otherworldly hooded beings who purchased the Fifth City from the British queen around thirty years ago in a transaction where both parties were on equal footing and where no emotional manipulation or any other underhanded business practices were used at all, and moved it to its current Neathly home. As such, it only stands to reason that they were too busy with all of the administrative duties of running a displaced city to speak with us, but our dedication to thoroughness in journalism here at the Veilgarden Nightly means that we will not, at any point, stop trying.’ Do you think it sounds too self-aggrandizing? I mean, it’s true, of course, but I don’t want to seem like a braggart.”
The Journalist waits silently for a response, but receives none. Turning in his chair to look behind him, he finds that the station cat has since moved elsewhere, and that he has been talking to no one. He blinks, slowly, before returning to his work.
“Oh well,” he says, now deliberately speaking to no one instead of attempting to speak to someone who is not there. “I’ll just see what I can do about that last part.”
