Character Information
General
Canon Source: Les Misérables
Canon Format: Hugo’s novel mixed with the musical.
Character's Name: Aleron Grantaire // alias ‘R’ (Grand R, Capital R, or however you might phrase it)
((note that Hugo only gives his surname; I’ve decided on the first))
Character's Age: 27
What form will your character's NV take? A small (think pocket-sized), tattered book. Its cover is worn, its text largely illegible. Any page may be used for writing, while the inside of the front cover may be used for audio or video, and the inside of the back cover for holograms. The inside covers function as simple touch screens; tap once to activate, then tap to select video or audio (with the back cover, tap to be taken directly to the hologram options); a few further options, easily navigable, are available for each.
Abilities
Character's Canon Abilities: Aside from the ability to expound for pages upon pages and a propensity for holding his liquor… Nothing, really.
If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them? Amplifying or muting the powers of others, dependent on his mood and how strongly he believes in or against the other individual. The exact impact of this ability (and whether it has any discernible impact at all) will of course be determined by the other player. It isn’t anything that he can control (not yet, anyway), and could reveal more about his feelings than he would like. At the beginning, the ability will be weak in most if not all cases; Grantaire will sense something that feels out of place, but likely will not be able to identify the strangeness.
Around many people, the ability will typically only impact the individual about whom Grantaire holds the stronger belief, positive or negative (with training and strengthening, he may be able to impact many; this remains to be seen). If Grantaire does cultivate this ability, he is likely to be more in control of it when not drinking. To some extent, though, it will probably always be beyond his control.
If Grantaire is left alone for too long and the ability has no source for attachment, it will turn inward and begin to create a sharp pressure, leaving Grantaire with an enhanced sense of doubt and a severe headache. The first individual to near him in such a state may very likely feel a strong initial burst in or ebbing of his/her own ability.
In terms of a "why," this ability suits the sense that alone, Grantaire tends to be pulled downward and inward by his constant questions and disbelief. It is only around others that he begins to find solidity and something like expression, and because he is outspoken and bears a strong presence, he has a tendency to impact the mood of those around (this being simply a part of his strength of personality).
Weapons: Biting wit? All right, all right… No weapons to speak of.
History/Personality/Plans/etc.
Character History: Hugo offers little backstory. We know that Grantaire is a student from the south of France. We can also presume that he came from a family of some money, given the fact that he is a student. Otherwise, his history stands a blank (when time allows, I will be working on some sort of background for him; I’m fairly certain that he has a sister somewhere). For Hugo’s introduction to Grantaire, please take a glance at this post and excerpt.
Through the course of the novel, Grantaire is primarily found drinking with the Friends of the ABC. Although he holds to none of their fervor for or beliefs in revolution and progress, he bears a deep admiration for Enjolras, their leader and a man of astonishingly strong belief. Grantaire discourses at length, but does nothing in particular to aid the cause of his fellow students; the only time he volunteers for and is set off on a task, he ends up playing dominos.
On June 5th, the day of the uprising, Grantaire drank himself into a stupor and—slumped over a table in the wine-shop at which the students established their barricade—slept through the fighting. He awakened to find a group of soldiers surrounding and readying to execute Enjolras, interrupted and asked to be shot as well, and thus died.
Point in Canon: The moment just after the gunshots and just before the death that would have been.
Character Personality: Cynical, barbed, outspoken, irreverent, tumultuous. Fast on his way to becoming a wreck, and might seem to be in ruins, already. If Grantaire holds any belief, it is in the ultimate presence of nothingness. At least, he would maintain as much. Somewhere, Grantaire wishes to find some foundation for meaning, to be able to actually believe in something. He knows not how to cultivate this capability, but he can spot it in others (consciously or not), and is attracted to those who hold a particular strength of belief.
Grantaire perceives himself and the world around with a painful keenness, and drinks in part to mute this awareness. Graced with an active mind that even alcohol cannot still, he has no particular ambition to make use of his intelligence, or of anything at all. Indeed, his utter lack of belief has worked to turn his thoughts against themselves, and to grind logic into absence. This is both a gain and a loss; while it shields Grantaire from some of the world’s edges, it also deepens the sense of emptiness and lack of meaning that seems to invade all.
When alone for extended periods of time, Grantaire becomes increasingly aware of this perceived emptiness and the negative convictions of his own mind. It is thus that he seeks steady company. Among others, he may give voice to all that unsettles him, speaking as if the thoughts are of no great consequence; and indeed, once the words have been spoken, they feel more distant. Around others, Grantaire almost feels grounded, as if he has a place in the world. And once others are around, Grantaire becomes less immediately aware of the sting of knowing; he also becomes a more pleasant companion. He wishes above all else to linger among the tolerable company of others, drinking wine and enjoying the sense of closeness (necessary for a man who so often feels distant). He can and will talk almost with end, relishing debate and launching into extensive discourse on most any topic.
While he tends to carry on in good humor around others, his speech is not without bite. He often works in lashes of cajolery and sarcasm, at times tends toward vitriolic, and because he is so perceptive, he can hit fairly hard. Still, he would generally rather get on with others than deal with the mess of contention, and he holds fond feelings for those with whom he has formed even a loose bond. There is somewhere a loyalty, even a muted nobility to Grantaire, though he would fiercely deny such an allegation.
He has no love for most who would feign to issue orders, nor any inclination to follow. The exceptions come with those few whom he honestly admires; for these individuals, he would gladly do most anything… Or at least attempt to. Often, Grantaire’s attempts at actions don’t quite meet up with his intent. He quickly loses conviction in the necessity to complete a task, and ends up doing whatever most grabs his interest or allows him to distract himself.
And to this, I add a remark from Victor Hugo (as translated by Isabel Hapgood): "[Grantaire] was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship." What with this self-discrepancy and his unending questions, Grantaire finds himself almost constantly torn from within, though he doesn't necessarily show it, and it is a rare individual who observes far enough to catch on.
Character Plans: Look for something to drink. Look for somewhere to stay. Try to grasp some sense of where he is, or find more wine to drown the questions. Mostly, as soon as he discovers that Enjolras is around, Grantaire is going to find him. Beyond that… It depends. Grantaire tends to hang back from becoming involved with anything that requires commitment, as he honestly doesn’t have enough shits to give. However, once he has a sense of the workings of this world, he might not be able to sink away entirely; I’d like to find a way to keep him at least somewhat active, if reluctantly.
Appearance/PB: Seems permanently disheveled, though he tends to be quite well-dressed. Not particularly pleasant on the eyes; at any rate, does not appear conventionally attractive. A flare in his eyes that no amount of alcohol can extinguish. PB is Hadley Fraser (see picture here).
( And the rest... )
General
Canon Source: Les Misérables
Canon Format: Hugo’s novel mixed with the musical.
Character's Name: Aleron Grantaire // alias ‘R’ (Grand R, Capital R, or however you might phrase it)
((note that Hugo only gives his surname; I’ve decided on the first))
Character's Age: 27
What form will your character's NV take? A small (think pocket-sized), tattered book. Its cover is worn, its text largely illegible. Any page may be used for writing, while the inside of the front cover may be used for audio or video, and the inside of the back cover for holograms. The inside covers function as simple touch screens; tap once to activate, then tap to select video or audio (with the back cover, tap to be taken directly to the hologram options); a few further options, easily navigable, are available for each.
Abilities
Character's Canon Abilities: Aside from the ability to expound for pages upon pages and a propensity for holding his liquor… Nothing, really.
If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them? Amplifying or muting the powers of others, dependent on his mood and how strongly he believes in or against the other individual. The exact impact of this ability (and whether it has any discernible impact at all) will of course be determined by the other player. It isn’t anything that he can control (not yet, anyway), and could reveal more about his feelings than he would like. At the beginning, the ability will be weak in most if not all cases; Grantaire will sense something that feels out of place, but likely will not be able to identify the strangeness.
Around many people, the ability will typically only impact the individual about whom Grantaire holds the stronger belief, positive or negative (with training and strengthening, he may be able to impact many; this remains to be seen). If Grantaire does cultivate this ability, he is likely to be more in control of it when not drinking. To some extent, though, it will probably always be beyond his control.
If Grantaire is left alone for too long and the ability has no source for attachment, it will turn inward and begin to create a sharp pressure, leaving Grantaire with an enhanced sense of doubt and a severe headache. The first individual to near him in such a state may very likely feel a strong initial burst in or ebbing of his/her own ability.
In terms of a "why," this ability suits the sense that alone, Grantaire tends to be pulled downward and inward by his constant questions and disbelief. It is only around others that he begins to find solidity and something like expression, and because he is outspoken and bears a strong presence, he has a tendency to impact the mood of those around (this being simply a part of his strength of personality).
Weapons: Biting wit? All right, all right… No weapons to speak of.
History/Personality/Plans/etc.
Character History: Hugo offers little backstory. We know that Grantaire is a student from the south of France. We can also presume that he came from a family of some money, given the fact that he is a student. Otherwise, his history stands a blank (when time allows, I will be working on some sort of background for him; I’m fairly certain that he has a sister somewhere). For Hugo’s introduction to Grantaire, please take a glance at this post and excerpt.
Through the course of the novel, Grantaire is primarily found drinking with the Friends of the ABC. Although he holds to none of their fervor for or beliefs in revolution and progress, he bears a deep admiration for Enjolras, their leader and a man of astonishingly strong belief. Grantaire discourses at length, but does nothing in particular to aid the cause of his fellow students; the only time he volunteers for and is set off on a task, he ends up playing dominos.
On June 5th, the day of the uprising, Grantaire drank himself into a stupor and—slumped over a table in the wine-shop at which the students established their barricade—slept through the fighting. He awakened to find a group of soldiers surrounding and readying to execute Enjolras, interrupted and asked to be shot as well, and thus died.
Point in Canon: The moment just after the gunshots and just before the death that would have been.
Character Personality: Cynical, barbed, outspoken, irreverent, tumultuous. Fast on his way to becoming a wreck, and might seem to be in ruins, already. If Grantaire holds any belief, it is in the ultimate presence of nothingness. At least, he would maintain as much. Somewhere, Grantaire wishes to find some foundation for meaning, to be able to actually believe in something. He knows not how to cultivate this capability, but he can spot it in others (consciously or not), and is attracted to those who hold a particular strength of belief.
Grantaire perceives himself and the world around with a painful keenness, and drinks in part to mute this awareness. Graced with an active mind that even alcohol cannot still, he has no particular ambition to make use of his intelligence, or of anything at all. Indeed, his utter lack of belief has worked to turn his thoughts against themselves, and to grind logic into absence. This is both a gain and a loss; while it shields Grantaire from some of the world’s edges, it also deepens the sense of emptiness and lack of meaning that seems to invade all.
When alone for extended periods of time, Grantaire becomes increasingly aware of this perceived emptiness and the negative convictions of his own mind. It is thus that he seeks steady company. Among others, he may give voice to all that unsettles him, speaking as if the thoughts are of no great consequence; and indeed, once the words have been spoken, they feel more distant. Around others, Grantaire almost feels grounded, as if he has a place in the world. And once others are around, Grantaire becomes less immediately aware of the sting of knowing; he also becomes a more pleasant companion. He wishes above all else to linger among the tolerable company of others, drinking wine and enjoying the sense of closeness (necessary for a man who so often feels distant). He can and will talk almost with end, relishing debate and launching into extensive discourse on most any topic.
While he tends to carry on in good humor around others, his speech is not without bite. He often works in lashes of cajolery and sarcasm, at times tends toward vitriolic, and because he is so perceptive, he can hit fairly hard. Still, he would generally rather get on with others than deal with the mess of contention, and he holds fond feelings for those with whom he has formed even a loose bond. There is somewhere a loyalty, even a muted nobility to Grantaire, though he would fiercely deny such an allegation.
He has no love for most who would feign to issue orders, nor any inclination to follow. The exceptions come with those few whom he honestly admires; for these individuals, he would gladly do most anything… Or at least attempt to. Often, Grantaire’s attempts at actions don’t quite meet up with his intent. He quickly loses conviction in the necessity to complete a task, and ends up doing whatever most grabs his interest or allows him to distract himself.
And to this, I add a remark from Victor Hugo (as translated by Isabel Hapgood): "[Grantaire] was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship." What with this self-discrepancy and his unending questions, Grantaire finds himself almost constantly torn from within, though he doesn't necessarily show it, and it is a rare individual who observes far enough to catch on.
Character Plans: Look for something to drink. Look for somewhere to stay. Try to grasp some sense of where he is, or find more wine to drown the questions. Mostly, as soon as he discovers that Enjolras is around, Grantaire is going to find him. Beyond that… It depends. Grantaire tends to hang back from becoming involved with anything that requires commitment, as he honestly doesn’t have enough shits to give. However, once he has a sense of the workings of this world, he might not be able to sink away entirely; I’d like to find a way to keep him at least somewhat active, if reluctantly.
Appearance/PB: Seems permanently disheveled, though he tends to be quite well-dressed. Not particularly pleasant on the eyes; at any rate, does not appear conventionally attractive. A flare in his eyes that no amount of alcohol can extinguish. PB is Hadley Fraser (see picture here).
( And the rest... )
ooc: Hugo on Grantaire.
December 13th, 2012 11:04 pmVictor Hugo's introduction to Grantaire. Copied from Isabel F. Hapgood's translation as made available through Project Gutenburg.
"Among all these glowing hearts and thoroughly convinced minds, there was one sceptic. How came he there? By juxtaposition. This sceptic's name was Grantaire, and he was in the habit of signing himself with this rebus: R. Grantaire was a man who took good care not to believe in anything. Moreover, he was one of the students who had learned the most during their course at Paris; he knew that the best coffee was to be had at the Cafe Lemblin, and the best billiards at the Cafe Voltaire, that good cakes and lasses were to be found at the Ermitage, on the Boulevard du Maine, spatchcocked chickens at Mother Sauget's, excellent matelotes at the Barriere de la Cunette, and a certain thin white wine at the Barriere du Com pat. He knew the best place for everything; in addition, boxing and foot-fencing and some dances; and he was a thorough single-stick player. He was a tremendous drinker to boot. He was inordinately homely: the prettiest boot-stitcher of that day, Irma Boissy, enraged with his homeliness, pronounced sentence on him as follows: 'Grantaire is impossible'; but Grantaire's fatuity was not to be disconcerted. He stared tenderly and fixedly at all women, with the air of saying to them all: 'If I only chose!' and of trying to make his comrades believe that he was in general demand.
"All those words: rights of the people, rights of man, the social contract, the French Revolution, the Republic, democracy, humanity, civilization, religion, progress, came very near to signifying nothing whatever to Grantaire. He smiled at them. Scepticism, that caries of the intelligence, had not left him a single whole idea. He lived with irony. This was his axiom: 'There is but one certainty, my full glass.' He sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the brother, Robespierre junior as well as Loizerolles. 'They are greatly in advance to be dead,' he exclaimed. He said of the crucifix: 'There is a gibbet which has been a success.' A rover, a gambler, a libertine, often drunk, he displeased these young dreamers by humming incessantly: 'J'aimons les filles, et j'aimons le bon vin.' Air: Vive Henri IV.
"However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired his opposite by instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to a spinal column. His moral backbone leaned on that firmness. Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some one once more. He was, himself, moreover, composed of two elements, which were, to all appearance, incompatible. He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship. A profound contradiction; for an affection is a conviction. His nature was thus constituted. There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the obverse, the wrong side. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja. They only exist on condition that they are backed up with another man; their name is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side of an existence which is not theirs. Grantaire was one of these men. He was the obverse of Enjolras.
"One might almost say that affinities begin with the letters of the alphabet. In the series O and P are inseparable. You can, at will, pronounce O and P or Orestes and Pylades.
"Grantaire, Enjolras' true satellite, inhabited this circle of young men; he lived there, he took no pleasure anywhere but there; he followed them everywhere. His joy was to see these forms go and come through the fumes of wine. They tolerated him on account of his good humor.
"Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: 'What fine marble!'"
"All those words: rights of the people, rights of man, the social contract, the French Revolution, the Republic, democracy, humanity, civilization, religion, progress, came very near to signifying nothing whatever to Grantaire. He smiled at them. Scepticism, that caries of the intelligence, had not left him a single whole idea. He lived with irony. This was his axiom: 'There is but one certainty, my full glass.' He sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the brother, Robespierre junior as well as Loizerolles. 'They are greatly in advance to be dead,' he exclaimed. He said of the crucifix: 'There is a gibbet which has been a success.' A rover, a gambler, a libertine, often drunk, he displeased these young dreamers by humming incessantly: 'J'aimons les filles, et j'aimons le bon vin.' Air: Vive Henri IV.
"However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired his opposite by instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to a spinal column. His moral backbone leaned on that firmness. Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some one once more. He was, himself, moreover, composed of two elements, which were, to all appearance, incompatible. He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship. A profound contradiction; for an affection is a conviction. His nature was thus constituted. There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the obverse, the wrong side. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja. They only exist on condition that they are backed up with another man; their name is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side of an existence which is not theirs. Grantaire was one of these men. He was the obverse of Enjolras.
"One might almost say that affinities begin with the letters of the alphabet. In the series O and P are inseparable. You can, at will, pronounce O and P or Orestes and Pylades.
"Grantaire, Enjolras' true satellite, inhabited this circle of young men; he lived there, he took no pleasure anywhere but there; he followed them everywhere. His joy was to see these forms go and come through the fumes of wine. They tolerated him on account of his good humor.
"Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: 'What fine marble!'"