Newcomb App
Player Name: Vin
Player Pronouns: He/They
Player Contact: Vincira on Discord, PM
Player Age: 35
Character Name: Tom Zane
Canon: Alan Wake 2/Remedy Connected Universe
Canon Point: End of AW2 Final Draft
Age: Canon age - appears in his 40s, is actually at least 90
Species: Humanoid (corrupted by cosmic Darkness known as "The Dark Presence")
Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
johtaja
Permissions: HERE
Goals: What Tom really wants most depends on who you ask in canon. If you ask him, he'll tell you that he wants freedom, to claw out of the Dark Place he's been trapped in for so long. But through the lens of others (and through the meta present in canon), it becomes a little clearer that he may not actually be trapped at all, and he's been pulling the strings of misery and sacrifice for years for the sake of art. Art has power in the Dark Place, you see...so the greater the artist, the more power he holds.
Of course, there are also just days where he lives for his next opportunity to party.
Morals: By all canon accounts we have heard about, Thomas Zane used to be a good man. He cared about his town, loved his partner Barbara, ran an art commune, and even wanted to open a hotel to boost the local economy. Maybe some of all that is still in Tom, somewhere. He's markedly generous and (some would say overly) friendly, quick with a smile and a cocktail.
But being lost and largely alone for over fifty years has really distorted his sense of morality. In a world where death and the suffering of others can be played for art, he's become something a lot less open and honest. No better liar than an actor, after all.
The only morality that matters now to Tom Zane is what works best for the next scene.
Struggles: If Tom has one great enemy in this world, it is himself. Lost in the dark for decades and driven mad, he is trapped in an endless cycle of vice and manipulation, forever seeking the next great collaboration that might grant him his freedom. The trouble is, he's so far out of his own head that it's difficult for him to know if he's coming or going. Are those crocodile tears, or is he genuinely scared? Not even he could tell you, anymore. Unreality and faded self-identity tint everything he does like a gel over a spotlight.
Position: Professor of Filmmaking, head of Mycology club (if possible).
Explanation: Tom Zane is a celebrated auteur - he has written, directed, and acted in at least two known movies in canon. Ulterior motive aside, it's impossible to deny that the man has the passion and talent for filmmaking down to his core, and if students are willing to bear with his eccentricities, they stand to learn a lot from him.
(He is also, canonically, a big fan of magic mushrooms. Hailing from Finland and moving to the Pacific Northwest, he has a lot of hands-on experience canonically with mushroom identification and use.)
Introspective Writing Sample:
The ice softly clinks against the sides of his glass when he drains it. Another Negroni down, but he still has his cigarette, burning away between his slender fingers. He would go get another drink, but right now, he's got work to do, and that work involves the ringing telephone receiver pressed to his ear.
Taking him a while this time.
Tom Zane had played this role before. Many iterations, but some of the beats are constant. He has to nudge the writer along his path, making sure that his hapless collaborator hits his marks. This newest iteration is even more complicated than it used to be. Phone calls, keys, cryptic puzzles, parties...and then his final scene until the next run. Then he'll take his bow, do his curtain call, drink and smoke it all away and set up for the next one.
Or he thinks there will be a next one. He doesn't really know.
Tom is tired, but it will be worth it. Some of his finest work. He's not bloodied his hands any more than Hitchcock, or the old Giallo masters. It's all for the work. Barbara would have understood. Hell, anyone who knows art would understand. Even a chef has to crack eggs to make an omelette.
He breathes in, out. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and ashes it carelessly onto the carpet beside his bare feet. He smiles, so the smile can be heard over the phone line. It doesn't reach his eyes.
The ringing stops.
Action.
"Is this Alan Wake?"
Interactive Writing Sample: TDM Thread here!
Player Pronouns: He/They
Player Contact: Vincira on Discord, PM
Player Age: 35
Character Name: Tom Zane
Canon: Alan Wake 2/Remedy Connected Universe
Canon Point: End of AW2 Final Draft
Age: Canon age - appears in his 40s, is actually at least 90
Species: Humanoid (corrupted by cosmic Darkness known as "The Dark Presence")
Journal:
johtajaPermissions: HERE
Goals: What Tom really wants most depends on who you ask in canon. If you ask him, he'll tell you that he wants freedom, to claw out of the Dark Place he's been trapped in for so long. But through the lens of others (and through the meta present in canon), it becomes a little clearer that he may not actually be trapped at all, and he's been pulling the strings of misery and sacrifice for years for the sake of art. Art has power in the Dark Place, you see...so the greater the artist, the more power he holds.
Of course, there are also just days where he lives for his next opportunity to party.
Morals: By all canon accounts we have heard about, Thomas Zane used to be a good man. He cared about his town, loved his partner Barbara, ran an art commune, and even wanted to open a hotel to boost the local economy. Maybe some of all that is still in Tom, somewhere. He's markedly generous and (some would say overly) friendly, quick with a smile and a cocktail.
But being lost and largely alone for over fifty years has really distorted his sense of morality. In a world where death and the suffering of others can be played for art, he's become something a lot less open and honest. No better liar than an actor, after all.
The only morality that matters now to Tom Zane is what works best for the next scene.
Struggles: If Tom has one great enemy in this world, it is himself. Lost in the dark for decades and driven mad, he is trapped in an endless cycle of vice and manipulation, forever seeking the next great collaboration that might grant him his freedom. The trouble is, he's so far out of his own head that it's difficult for him to know if he's coming or going. Are those crocodile tears, or is he genuinely scared? Not even he could tell you, anymore. Unreality and faded self-identity tint everything he does like a gel over a spotlight.
Position: Professor of Filmmaking, head of Mycology club (if possible).
Explanation: Tom Zane is a celebrated auteur - he has written, directed, and acted in at least two known movies in canon. Ulterior motive aside, it's impossible to deny that the man has the passion and talent for filmmaking down to his core, and if students are willing to bear with his eccentricities, they stand to learn a lot from him.
(He is also, canonically, a big fan of magic mushrooms. Hailing from Finland and moving to the Pacific Northwest, he has a lot of hands-on experience canonically with mushroom identification and use.)
Introspective Writing Sample:
The ice softly clinks against the sides of his glass when he drains it. Another Negroni down, but he still has his cigarette, burning away between his slender fingers. He would go get another drink, but right now, he's got work to do, and that work involves the ringing telephone receiver pressed to his ear.
Taking him a while this time.
Tom Zane had played this role before. Many iterations, but some of the beats are constant. He has to nudge the writer along his path, making sure that his hapless collaborator hits his marks. This newest iteration is even more complicated than it used to be. Phone calls, keys, cryptic puzzles, parties...and then his final scene until the next run. Then he'll take his bow, do his curtain call, drink and smoke it all away and set up for the next one.
Or he thinks there will be a next one. He doesn't really know.
Tom is tired, but it will be worth it. Some of his finest work. He's not bloodied his hands any more than Hitchcock, or the old Giallo masters. It's all for the work. Barbara would have understood. Hell, anyone who knows art would understand. Even a chef has to crack eggs to make an omelette.
He breathes in, out. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and ashes it carelessly onto the carpet beside his bare feet. He smiles, so the smile can be heard over the phone line. It doesn't reach his eyes.
The ringing stops.
Action.
"Is this Alan Wake?"
Interactive Writing Sample: TDM Thread here!