Creating a Fictional Character does not have to be a difficult task. Simply take a look at someone around you. Identify their underlying motives and the resulting common behaviors and interactions. Identify similarities existing between that person and physical objects. Exaggerate the behaviors already existing add some of the descriptors of objects they resemble and .... Bingo!
Most brilliant is the character that requires no exaggeration at all, these are the people that allow us all to draw the lines between this world and the next. Sometimes the comparison is the character.
The Most Recent Character Creation - The Douche.
Douche = Reality of Behavior
It’s always clean = popular, always smiling…
Great at cleaning things out of the system and comes out smelling clean = Excellent delegation skills, nothing left on the plate, free to frolic about…
It covers up foul odors while delivering things from A to B flawlessly. Picking up and swiping everything along the way during the torrential flow. This often creates an unwanted side effect, i.e. sperm meets egg and uh-oh, sorry kid you’re a mistake. = Lacks the foresight to see or possibly even to care for the future. The flaw remains in essence, shortsighted in areas beyond personal ambition, never actively providing new ideas or driving business, but unexecuted and stolen ideas commonly appear as wins on status and review forms.
To recap, in the end the foul odor has not been removed but covered for a short time. = Good show, no results.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Prologue
From the outside their image had been crafted to perfection. The marketing divisions had managed to strew the corporate logo across billboards, buses, trains, television commercials, sporting arenas, and professional athletes. Year after year millions were sunk into the sponsorship of events such as the Super Bowl, World Series, summer and winter Olympics, as well as the occasional Academy Award ceremony. It was world wide recognition that was sought through the spread of their logo. It was this symbol that had become greater than even the services and merchandise produced for an adoring public. The symbol had become the lifeblood of the company. It had replaced profit as the desired bottom line. For the company, the symbol was a means by which to live and die. To them their symbol was a life’s passion, a work of art.
Incorporated in 1954, the company had risen from a regional service provider into a media darling used as a bell-weather to forecast the direction of the American economy. The nineteen-sixties were witness to the companies’ expansion from its home state of Missouri into a national retail outlet. During the seventies the founding family members sold off their private holdings in a move which allowed for the company to become a publicly traded entity. The rise of competition forced to company to fend off various hostile takeover attempts during the latter half of the nineteen-eighties. With marketing saturation on the rise during the nineties the company touted its’ philanthropic achievements in an effort to establish a near love affair with the American public. It was this love affair that bore a persona which lured young idealists to their doorstep year after year with hopes of entering into its sky lit halls.
Every spring thousands found themselves standing nervously inside a large glass atrium waiting to be escorted through a maze of corridors which made up corporate headquarters. Each one dressed their finest could be seen feverishly reciting their life’s story, academic achievements, and any other embellishments deemed worthy of mention. Young men would pace the wood paneled lobby buttoning and unbuttoning their suit coats as they wavered between presentation. Women would sit still in black leather sofas fretting over their makeup and skirt length. All were sizing up their competition. It was widely known amongst perspective candidates that the corporate mantra was “perception is reality” and this meant that they must look the part, even though they might not live up to those expectations. But if one could pass through the rigorous selection process life behind the shroud of the company’s symbol brought the notion of security, achievement, wealth, and most of all happiness.
Incorporated in 1954, the company had risen from a regional service provider into a media darling used as a bell-weather to forecast the direction of the American economy. The nineteen-sixties were witness to the companies’ expansion from its home state of Missouri into a national retail outlet. During the seventies the founding family members sold off their private holdings in a move which allowed for the company to become a publicly traded entity. The rise of competition forced to company to fend off various hostile takeover attempts during the latter half of the nineteen-eighties. With marketing saturation on the rise during the nineties the company touted its’ philanthropic achievements in an effort to establish a near love affair with the American public. It was this love affair that bore a persona which lured young idealists to their doorstep year after year with hopes of entering into its sky lit halls.
Every spring thousands found themselves standing nervously inside a large glass atrium waiting to be escorted through a maze of corridors which made up corporate headquarters. Each one dressed their finest could be seen feverishly reciting their life’s story, academic achievements, and any other embellishments deemed worthy of mention. Young men would pace the wood paneled lobby buttoning and unbuttoning their suit coats as they wavered between presentation. Women would sit still in black leather sofas fretting over their makeup and skirt length. All were sizing up their competition. It was widely known amongst perspective candidates that the corporate mantra was “perception is reality” and this meant that they must look the part, even though they might not live up to those expectations. But if one could pass through the rigorous selection process life behind the shroud of the company’s symbol brought the notion of security, achievement, wealth, and most of all happiness.
Part I
Waking to the warm sensation of blood running down his face he looked around a darkened room trying to identify where exactly he was. This moment of confusion was interrupted by a piercing pain in the back of his neck as he was suddenly thrown to the ground. Without enough time to react to being on the floor he found himself being dragged across a course carpeting by the hair on his head; so forcefully that whoever was dragging him had to pick him up several times as hair was torn from his scalp. Still unable to make out exactly where this assault was taking place he began to muster all available adrenaline in an effort to break free from his captors. As he rounded a corner kicking both his legs and flailing his arms he was dropped, but this time he was able to get up and run. Without looking back he sprinted down a long corridor and cut into a small enclave.
Tucked behind an oversized chair and fake rubber tree he realized that during the whole ordeal he was wearing the same grey suit he had the day before. His white collared shirt was blood stained and his long black tie barely hung onto his neck. He noticed that the carpet had burned holes into his pant legs and scuffed his black dress shoes. Pouring sweat and head throbbing he drew his hands over the dried blood where roots to his jet black hair once grew. Failing to notice the pain in his right hand before, he caught a glimpse of a long gash above his middle finger that ran past his pinky. It seemed as though someone, most likely his would be captors had tried to stab him but he somehow deflected the blow with his hand. As he crouched behind the chair examining his fresh wounds and catching his breath he knew that if at all possible staying absolutely still might allow him to go undetected.
As the seconds turned to minutes he began to wonder if his attackers had left. Given the time to think about the situation he became more apparent of the pain that was pulsating through his body. His stomach began to churn has the dizziness of pain consumed him. The intensity of having been stabbed, scalped, and dragged across a carpeted floor grew with every passing second. His hands began to tremble and breathing became more frequent. Whether it was the fear of not knowing where his captors were or the pain the made his eyes sink back into his skull he began to vomit. Placing his hand over his mouth in an effort to hold the vomit from spilling out had tried to silence himself. All of a sudden he heard the sound of footsteps getting ever closer. Within seconds the door to the enclave was flung open and pushed hard against his convulsing body.
Two dark images entered into the enclave. He looked up, still holding the vomit in his hands. Sweating profusely, he wiped his forehead with the one free arm he had. This allowed him to actually catch a glance of his attackers. Through the little light that had come in from the doorway he was astonished at what he saw. The figures standing before him were faceless men dressed in dark black suits. At first he thought it was shadows playing tricks on his mind, but as they pulled him to his feet and began to drag him out of the enclave he realized these were men without eyes or mouths. Only the shape of a nose and two holes for nostrils were distinctive facial features. Where their eyes should have been there only were indentations of sockets covered by white skin. Their chins went to their nostrils and it appeared as though they lacked eyebrows. These men did not make a single sound. For a moment he forgot how sick he had been but soon enough the violent churning erupted again but this time he felt a weakness in his knees. The last thing he saw was the floor coming ever closer. He blacked out sprawled across the green carpeting of the narrow hallway.
The men tried to pull him to his feet, but he remaining unconscious slumped to the ground and fell against the salmon colored walls. Vomit dripping from his chin and blood running from his nose, the men knew they had to clean him before the night was over. Instead of helping him walk to a restroom each man took an arm and pulled his body through the hallway. The smell of vomit carried through the office floor. Finding an open restroom the men began to wash to the blood and vomit from his face. His suit was wrinkled and his white shirt stained with blood. There was no way he could be left like this. One of the men removed his own pants, shirt, and suit coat in order to dress his unconscious victim. Once fully clothed and washed he was brought back to a deserted enclave and laid to rest in a maroon chair. Still unconscious and pouring sweat he was left alone.
Tucked behind an oversized chair and fake rubber tree he realized that during the whole ordeal he was wearing the same grey suit he had the day before. His white collared shirt was blood stained and his long black tie barely hung onto his neck. He noticed that the carpet had burned holes into his pant legs and scuffed his black dress shoes. Pouring sweat and head throbbing he drew his hands over the dried blood where roots to his jet black hair once grew. Failing to notice the pain in his right hand before, he caught a glimpse of a long gash above his middle finger that ran past his pinky. It seemed as though someone, most likely his would be captors had tried to stab him but he somehow deflected the blow with his hand. As he crouched behind the chair examining his fresh wounds and catching his breath he knew that if at all possible staying absolutely still might allow him to go undetected.
As the seconds turned to minutes he began to wonder if his attackers had left. Given the time to think about the situation he became more apparent of the pain that was pulsating through his body. His stomach began to churn has the dizziness of pain consumed him. The intensity of having been stabbed, scalped, and dragged across a carpeted floor grew with every passing second. His hands began to tremble and breathing became more frequent. Whether it was the fear of not knowing where his captors were or the pain the made his eyes sink back into his skull he began to vomit. Placing his hand over his mouth in an effort to hold the vomit from spilling out had tried to silence himself. All of a sudden he heard the sound of footsteps getting ever closer. Within seconds the door to the enclave was flung open and pushed hard against his convulsing body.
Two dark images entered into the enclave. He looked up, still holding the vomit in his hands. Sweating profusely, he wiped his forehead with the one free arm he had. This allowed him to actually catch a glance of his attackers. Through the little light that had come in from the doorway he was astonished at what he saw. The figures standing before him were faceless men dressed in dark black suits. At first he thought it was shadows playing tricks on his mind, but as they pulled him to his feet and began to drag him out of the enclave he realized these were men without eyes or mouths. Only the shape of a nose and two holes for nostrils were distinctive facial features. Where their eyes should have been there only were indentations of sockets covered by white skin. Their chins went to their nostrils and it appeared as though they lacked eyebrows. These men did not make a single sound. For a moment he forgot how sick he had been but soon enough the violent churning erupted again but this time he felt a weakness in his knees. The last thing he saw was the floor coming ever closer. He blacked out sprawled across the green carpeting of the narrow hallway.
The men tried to pull him to his feet, but he remaining unconscious slumped to the ground and fell against the salmon colored walls. Vomit dripping from his chin and blood running from his nose, the men knew they had to clean him before the night was over. Instead of helping him walk to a restroom each man took an arm and pulled his body through the hallway. The smell of vomit carried through the office floor. Finding an open restroom the men began to wash to the blood and vomit from his face. His suit was wrinkled and his white shirt stained with blood. There was no way he could be left like this. One of the men removed his own pants, shirt, and suit coat in order to dress his unconscious victim. Once fully clothed and washed he was brought back to a deserted enclave and laid to rest in a maroon chair. Still unconscious and pouring sweat he was left alone.
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