Post by thyme on Jan 11, 2012 18:58:14 GMT -5
TOKORO, KYLE DAIKI
Oceanic Flight 192 Ship Manifest - - - -
Ticket purchased for KYLE DAIKI TOKORO, at the age of NINETEEN.
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[/i][/b][/color][/font] Thyme
How Did You Find Us?: PBSupport ad
Character Face-Claim: Kim Bum
Avatar Image: Either this one or this one.
Estimated Level of Activity: High -- even if something comes up and I can't post, I'll still log on.[/ul]
CHARACTER VISION:First off, I must admit that characters like D -- it seems right to refer to him as 'D', for reasons I'll explain in a minute -- aren't typically my first choice of a character. Although I myself quite enjoy playing them, I understand how they can seem, for lack of a better word, a little stale: the deeper aspects of their character are often the same from one to the next. I know how they can get almost tiresome after you have roleplayed with quite a few of them, and so don't tend to pick them out. D's character, however, was different from the others. He's not just a brain, or a student, and he doesn't do what he does simply because he has nothing else to do. His stakes are so, so much higher. He has twenty-odd years to make an impact in the world, to make his life really count -- and now he is stranded on an island, and every second he spends on the island is another second closer to the inevitable. However, now he has a way to make in impact on the world around him: he can help save the other students on the island. I don't think he sees the crash as permanent, which is also the reason why he sees it as an opportunity as well as a misfortune. D is completely certain he will get off the island within five years, and so is not worried about leaving behind any family or opportunities -- rather, he is focused on making what time he has left count.
I see D -- after the crash -- and Kyle -- before the crash -- as almost two different people. Growing up in Japan, he was Kyle, withdrawn, unpopular, and more than a little nervous around people. Because he had such stiff competition in the schools there, and because being an expert at science doesn't guarantee your success in other classes, he had to spend most of his time studying and preparing for tests. Although he was happy then, he had begun to hope for a chance to maybe be someone else for a little while, someone other than quiet, shy Kyle Tokoro, and that wasn't happening. People knew him too well. Here, on the island, however, no one knew him before the crash. Kyle introduced himself as -- and effectively became -- D. This isn't a persona or a mask that he puts on, nor is it Multiple Personality Disorder. They are just two different sides of him. He is more outgoing and talkative now than he was before, and certainly more accepting of himself and his sexuality (he is bisexual, which only occurred to him after leaving the busy lifestyle he had led in Japan and started meeting more people in the States). Many of his conversations, however, end awkwardly because he hasn't had much practice socializing with people, let alone under such stressful circumstances.
Over the course of the RP, I'd really like to see D grow into someone that is a good balance between his two 'lives', if you want to call them that. I would like him to have more friends, certainly, but still retain a lot of the originality that makes him who he is. However, as time passes and his faith in being rescued or escaping is shaken, I'd also like to see him confront the fact that he really does have limited time left because I don't think he's really dealt with the idea that maybe he won't achieve his goals and time will run out before he can do anything about it. D has so many firm convictions in his life that they need to be tried. As far as relationships go, he genuinely wants to be friends with everyone, mostly because he had so little time for socializing before. However, he is not as good at it as he might be, and his quirks and continual use of scientific terminology may make people think that he is really weird. Once the knowledge that his time is running out starts taking its toll, D may become much more emotional and harder to predict, but the less sure he is of achieving PhD, the harder he tries to achieve the new goals that he sets to replace the old ones. Jay is his de facto leader, although he will take orders from anyone about anything except his scientific work. It isn't that he trusts everyone -- rather, his natural observance makes him wary of all of them -- but that he understands that everyone else knows that they need him on the island in order to escape or survive. His confidence in his own abilities to survive on his own and the group's need for him allows him to trust people without worrying too much about betrayal.
'WHO'S WHO?' BLURB:Meet Kyle Tokoro -- everyone knows him as D, however. He is nineteen years old, Japanese, and, to be frank, a genius. Organic chemistry is his strongest suit, and that comes in handy here on the island where resources can be limited and knowledge can mean power. D's not out to run the show, however: he's more interested in making friends, surviving, and pursuing his own research in his hand-made laboratory. But a year ago, something broke inside of him, and no amount of happiness can ever make it right. There's a time bomb inside his head just waiting to go off -- quite literally. In twenty years, every thought, feeling, and idea that ever passed through D's brilliant brain will be gone, and he will be brain dead. The stakes are higher than they have ever been for him: he must make every second count, or he will die without having ever really lived.
WRITTEN AUDITION:So this is how I die.
The thought was fuzzy, as if someone had blown smoke in his eyes and clouded his vision, as if something had hit him very hard across the back of his head, making it painful to think and impossible to move. There were no scents, no sights, nothing except the vague idea that he was surrounded by something cool and soft that moved freely beneath him, and that thought. It echoed off the sides of his skull again, and again, and again. So this is how I die... this is how I die... this is how I die.... how I die... The cool substance all around him shifted a little to the left, carrying him that way. Now D had the sense that he was moving very slowly, as if he was floating. Had he his wits about him, he could have formulated a hypothesis about the nature of the substance and have it identified in less than a minute. But he hadn't, and instead he slipped into darkness again, losing even the sensation of that gentle substance moving him along, almost as if he was floating in water.
A faint dream came to him in his unconsciousness, edging in at the edges of his sanity. He was sitting in his room at college, room perfectly organized except for the huge science textbooks flung randomly across the floor. Music was playing in the background -- Chopin, he thought with mild surprise -- but it was coming from the common room instead of from the open laptop on his knees. He got up, setting the computer down on his desk, brushing the crumbs off of his long-sleeved t-shirt. There were a lot of them, he noticed, far too many. He had only eaten one pack of cookies, although they were admittedly very good, and certainly hadn't left that much of a mess. Leaning down to pick up the trash bin in order to see if he really had forgotten how many sweets he had had that day, a good deal of the crumbs started pouring out. D frowned, perplexed, and reached out his free hand, catching some of the crumbs. Under close inspection, however, they weren't bits of broken-off cookies -- they were grains of sand. He made to take a step, but that hurt like all hell and he nearly crumpled to the floor before he caught himself. Sand poured out of his sleeves and shook itself out of his hair and suddenly it was everywhere. It was in his socks -- where were his shoes? -- and beneath his fingernails -- was that blood or dye? -- and everywhere around him -- was that the carpet, beneath the sand? It clung to him like glue and no matter how hard he fought to catch his breath and calm down, he was panicking. The door split in two with the weight of it all, and the windows to his left burst and sand poured out of them, too. It was drowning him, choking him, swallowing him, burying him alive, and he was sinking into it faster and faster the more he struggled. The light of the lamps faded slowly as the sand closed in above him, leaving him to die there in the dark with no sensation or thoughts or...
He woke up screaming, his own voice mingled in with so many others.
Somewhere in the distance he could hear voices saying coherent things, but that was much too far away for any sense to be made of them. D opened and shut his eyes a few times, hoping foolishly that he wasn't where he thought he was. His mind had, however, already organized the facts and presented them neatly to himself with such perfect proofs that it was impossible to deny what had happened. There had been a plane crash and few had survived it -- or, at least, few would survive it, judging by the screams coming from somewhere off to his right. They had been over an ocean, although he didn't know which, so it logically followed that this was an island relatively far from any other civilized area. And, lastly, that there was a distinct possibility that he had been aware of this the entire time. After all, the sand from the beach he was lying on really was in everything, just like in his dream, and the gentle substance that had carried him along must have been water. A seat cushion had washed up next to him, leading him to wonder if that silly piece of uncomfortable furniture had really saved his life.
D pulled himself up laboriously, gritting his teeth as his left leg screamed in protest. It felt like it was cracked in half -- funny how it acted that way, too. It took more willpower than he had known he had to get himself sitting upright -- especially with only one arm, because one didn't seem to be working presently. Nor did he want to try and explain to himself why his white pants were now red. It wasn't all his blood that had dyed them that color; if it had been, he wouldn't be conscious any more. That fact made it worse, though, and D tried to focus on other things. All those coherent people who had been saying coherent things when he first woke up were still at it, and although his head was killing him and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and let the fish take him away, he knew he had to live. He still had twenty years of life left. You can take my life away, he accused Fate fiercely as he dragged himself towards the others across the sand. You can give me a death sentence and you can try and make me miserable. But don't you dare take away what years you've given me! As he approached the others slowly, his leg limiting him to crawling slowly, D felt himself start to tremble in pain and fear, and felt the edges of his thoughts clouding again. Choking back a sob every time he moved, he watched the others run and cry and panic through his own tears. Somehow, he didn't have the energy to call out for help -- You have a pair of red pants, he reminded himself with surprising clarity of thought -- but he knew that, if he kept moving, however slowly, someone would see him.
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