User Name/Nick: KaOS
User DW: none
AIM/IM: you know me!
E-mail: really you do
Other Characters: Richie, Rorschach, and Ed


Character Name: Guildenstern
Series: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Age: 25. Ish.
From When?: Post-hanging

Inmate/Warden: Inmate! Both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were put in a bad situation, one which was never fully explained to either of them from the word go; they were given a vague directive, "find out what's going on with Hamlet," and left to pursue it however they saw fit when neither of them had the rest of the pieces to figure out WHY or what it meant. They thought they were helping, when really they were finding ammunition for Claudius to use against Hamlet, and while it's true, they didn't understand the harm in it, the fact remains that they eventually found themselves escorting Hamlet to what Claudius thought would be his death, and what instead became theirs. They're guilty of treason, though Guil would be hard-pressed to remember the fact, and Guil stabbed a man in a panic, never mind that the knife was fake. He didn't know at the time, and was rather surprised when he proved to be less than dead. His confusion about the events doesn't erase his wrongdoing, however; he followed the steps even though he didn't know where they would lead, and at least according to the original text, he's a traitor.

Abilities/Powers: Unless you count the ability (and tendency) to forget just about everything as a power, or the ability to argue about...anything, none.

Personality: Guilenstern is a philosopher and a thinker, without quite the brains to amount to much as either. Oh, he's intelligent enough, but his confidence far outweighs his actual skills, and as a result he tends to talk himself into circles. It may make him sound deep, however in most cases if you were to really examine what he says closely, you would find it's mostly cliche and already discovered material, only couched in words designed to make it sound like it has greater purpose, that it's something more. Occasionally he does come up with a truly new, 100% original thought, but usually he doesn't have the means to follow it through as completely as he'd like, so he abandons it halfway through, thoroughly frustrated by his own limitations. He spends a great deal of the film/play attempting to find the root of it, what's going on, to EXPLAIN something of their presence and purpose, and it's only when he finally does that he's truly content, though it comes far too late to do anything about.

Unfortunately, his taste for reason, his ability to argue and problem solve, is subject to an almost crippling forgetfulness, almost like amnesia. He's lucky if he can remember his own name most of the time, though he's at least the better at remembering it, and nearly every argument he has is limited by his ability to maintain steam, because the moment he's distracted he loses his train of thought completely and finds himself utterly incapable of remembering where he was going with it. Repeated information sticks better, it's how he can remember names and faces, as does having a written account, and he's better with help; what he can't recall Ros can generally remind him of, and vice versa.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Guildenstern and Rosencrantz. Best friends since as far back as either of them can remember (which isn't particularly far at all, but even so), the two have over time become interchangeable, nearly indistinguishable from one another to all who've known them for any length of time, and even to themselves more often than not; it's as if they've become one entity in two bodies, conjoined without the actual connection, simply because the story never required them to be separate. They're never apart, and even their lines to everyone else are interchangeable; it's only to each other that they are recognized as individuals in their own right, and even then they have difficulty with the concept. As if you can't have one without the other. Guil, of course, clings to the fact that he is in fact Guildenstern and NOT Rosencrantz, certain of this as much as he is certain of anything (which, much as in the case of his philosophical skills, far exceeds his actual capabilities), but even so he occasionally forgets, much to his continued frustration. As a result, he often picks on the other unnecessarily (although then again he tends to rely on sarcasm and mocking for a great deal of his interactions with others, so why would it be any different with Rosencrantz?), as if to attempt to differentiate himself as an individual.

Additionally, he is more often than not preoccupied with the idea of predestination. He cannot help but feel that everything is already planned out ahead of time and his own actions are inevitably futile, but much as a bug caught in a spider's web he feels impelled to struggle against it regardless. This also is a continued source of frustration for him, resulting in many impassioned diatribes railing against it, most of which Ros ends up inevitably bearing the brunt of. He spends most of his time attempting to analyze the world around him, the whys and hows of behavior and the cogs of the universe, so to speak, but as with many things they seem to be irritatingly beyond his comprehension, although it doesn't stop him from trying. He's analytical by nature, he merely possesses insufficient tools to break things down and examine them as closely as he'd like; he's bothered by questions that have no answers, to the point where he becomes easily angered when presented with one for a significant period of time. Despite the fact that he usually can't answer them to his own satisfaction, he still feels compelled to ask the questions anyway, attempting to analyze and examine the things around him that he doesn't quite understand. As a result, he's constantly torn between his quest for answers and his own limitations, which generally leaves him in a bad mood.

Caustic and bitter in disposition, Guil often acts as if the world has something against him, has done him some injustice which needs to be corrected. He's more likely to give an insult than a compliment, although strangely enough (or perhaps not so surprisingly) the more insults he gives the greater the likelihood that he actually likes the person in question. He tends to ignore those he doesn't like rather than waste time waxing poetic on all the reasons they're inferior or idiotic or just plain unintelligent...although he's content to do all these things both for friends (if you can call his acquaintances friends) or, if he's really bored, complete strangers, although he has nothing but respect for those in authority, and will make his best effort to remain pleasant with them no matter the circumstances. He does on occasion let his guard down enough to be understanding and sympathetic, but usually only to people he actually trusts which, let's face it, is pretty much limited to one person in the entire world (at this point, anyway), considering he has very little faith in other people and therefore doesn't trust them as a rule. He tends to be quick to anger and, while not usually violent, has a tendency to get particularly nasty (mostly through verbal abuse) and shout a lot.

Path to Redemption: Guil's main issue is one of identity. He is half of a whole, and while he points out the oddity inherent in it, and laments the fact that he is continually tied to the other, he himself finds it difficult to differentiate. Upon his arrival he will likely spend a great deal of his time looking for Rosencrantz, simply because he cannot conceive of a situation where they would ever be apart and will be convinced he is merely lurking in the wings, just off-stage. He needs to become a "real boy," his own man, independent in his own right, and this will be the driving force of his redemption arc.

He also feels an inexorable pull to the conclusion, as if someone is guiding his feet without his consent or permission, and even though he's separated from both source and his other half, he will still feel as if there's somewhere else he's meant to be, something he's meant to be doing, and he will find it very difficult to let this go. It's a compulsion more than anything else, something which he will need to be broken of; his problem lies hugely in his inability to stray from the path laid out for him, and this is the other half of the "real boy" problem; he needs to learn that he CAN choose for himself, that he doesn't have to follow the steps laid out for him.

Unfortunately, because of his faulty memory and tendency to "reset," this will likely be something of a difficult journey. The character's story is cyclical, an unending arc that restarts once it reaches the end, and so it's a very real likelihood that he may reach the end of his redemption arc only to reset to the way he was when he first arrived, or graduate only to return a week or so later with the slate wiped clean because he was unable to break the pattern when put back in his own story.

History:

Enter two men, Elizabethan. They are on horseback, in the middle of a likely long journey.

They are betting on the outcome of a coin flip.

The taller, lingering behind, calls out heads as he uncovers it, simultaneously surprised and not; he hadn't known what it would be until he looked, and yet as he gazes upon it, it is evident it could have been nothing else, though only one side has the symbol.

He flips again.

Heads.

And again.

Heads.

Many more times the coin is flipped, and yet every time it comes up heads, without fail.

And so it begins.

Over the course of the next few days, the two men, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, play out their part of Hamlet; the two childhood friends, somewhat bumbling, charged by his uncle with the task of uncovering what plagues Hamlet, what he's up to, if anything, so that Claudius may best determine how to remove him entirely. They play their parts to a tee, delivering every line, at the right point, but as the action progresses it becomes increasingly evident to Guildenstern that something is amiss, that they are merely performing their parts without knowing why. That there is something greater than them at work. He tries to find it, to explain, categorize, derive, but each time he attempts it he finds himself turned away, either unable to draw a conclusion without enough information or distracted by the action itself.

They're swept along amidst the chaos of Elsinore, and while the Player, the leader of a traveling troupe called to perform plays in celebration of the Queen's recent re-marriage, provides some insight, without being outside the shape of things they're unable to so much as object to where it's all leading to until they find themselves aboard a ship on its way to England, with Hamlet aboard, given a task they can't recall, though they're certain it must be important somehow, necessary.

Except opening the letter reveals the trick behind it, that they are there to deliver Hamlet to his death, and though this is of course terrible...Guil points out that they can't do anything about it, it's out of their hands, isn't up to them. Death is, after all, part of life, and comes to everyone sooner or later, and perhaps it's really not so bad as it sounds.

Until Hamlet catches on, switches the letter for a new one naming the both of them traitors, and after an attempt to alter their stars that comes far too late, they are put to death, hung until dead.

Enter two men, Elizabethan. They are on horseback, in the middle of a likely long journey.

They are betting on the outcome of a coin flip.

Sample Journal Entry: [5-10 sentences, 1st Person POV]

Has anyone seen a coin, by chance? I thought it was here, but it has since seemed to...not be.


Sample RP:

Open scene. A man, Elizabethan by category, in burlap. Dirty face, expression blank, though almost surprised. He stands in the middle of the room, alone, eyes screwed shut tightly, as if waiting for something.

Expectant.

He opens his mouth, as if to speak, then thinks better of it and shuts it again. Empty slate. Tabula Rasa; what thoughts were there remain no longer, and he's overwhelmed by the emptiness.

There's something on the tip of his tongue.

Something important, something...Bigger. Something he was supposed to remember, but he is unable to call it forth just yet. Perhaps in a moment, he thinks. Just give it time. It always comes eventually, though he can't recall an instance to prove it.

A rope, and infinite space, the image pulled forth from nothing, and it disturbs him. He can almost feel it around his neck, but an instinctive reach, fingers pressed to skin, and if it was it isn't anymore. Perhaps never was, for he can't really recall it being there. Half-remembered, foggy, and even now, thinking on it, it fades further, dissolving like smoke between his fingers.

A coin.

The thought pops into his mind, unbidden, impression more than words, but this is expected too, he doesn't question it as anyone's but his.

Purpose given, a Point, and he glances around the space, looking for the glint.

It must be here somewhere, he must have seen it already and that's why he thought of it. He has only to find it and all will be explained.

Special Notes: