Post by Samuel Duncan on Sept 1, 2017 15:17:46 GMT -5
-Samuel Duncan
Aliases:
-Sammy
-
Avatar Photo: Face claim: Robert Knepper
-
Age:
-34
Gender:
-Male
Appearance:
- Skinny, pale and rather sickly looking. Samuel has sunken in eyes and a boney face. His smile is charming and yet... Somewhat off putting. His has wispy hair that is dark and stringy. Light wrinkles around his face, especially around the mouth. Samuel spends a lot of time smiling, trying to earn people's trust. Even though he is not entirely trustworthy.
Occupation (studies and job before the outbreak):
-Cable guy
Hometown (city, state, country):
-Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA
Relationships (relatives, friends,...):
-Dana Duncan - Daughter - Deceased - Outbreak Day
-Donna Duncan - Wife - Deceased - Pre outbreak
-Natalie Duncan - Mother -status unknown
-
-
Weapons (currently in possession):
-Meat hook
-Silenced pistol
-
-
-
Items (clothing, backpacks, first-aid kits, etc...):
-Bandages
-Cigarettes
-Lighter
-Lighter fluid
-Spray disinfectant
Mode of transportation:
-Panel van
List 3 or more good personality traits:
-Intelligent
-Fearless
-Patient
List 3 or more bad personality traits:
-Enjoys violence more than he should
-Lacks genuine emotion
-Mentally ill
List 3 strengths:
-Smooth talking and manipulative
-Calm and collected in any situation, no matter the danger
-Great hearing, hard to sneak up on
List 3 flaws:
-Moments of full blown psychosis. Things trigger psychotic breaks where reality breaks down
-Severe loneliness. Often talks to walkers as a source of synthetic companionship
-Sociopathic tendencies
Describe your character's life before the Apocalypse:
Life was at one time simple. It wasn't easy, but it was simple. There was a time when you woke up and went to work. You paid your bills, raised your kids. Happiness right? On some cosmic scale this was what most people considered the American dream. A slice of Americana wrapped up in bottomless clichés, endless normalcy and never ending monotony. There was a time when Samuel too, might've found this comforting. The androgynous grind of a normal life. He couldn't remember a single example though. His life was a chore to push through. The death of his wife caused the bills to stack up. The strain of raising a child alone was more than he was willing to suffer through.
Life wasn't supposed to become this. He found himself wondering why he even bothered. His daughter was twelve. She was more than capable of helping out and yet she didn't. She knew that Samuel was struggling. She wasn't blind. Samuel hadn't raised her to be stupid. So then, why didn't she help?!? Did she not care? Samuel spent most nights sitting at the kitchen table staring at a pile of bills. The American dream? Yeah right. It was more of a nightmare. It was an endless hallway he couldn't escape. He would stare out into the living room and watch his daughter enjoying some mindless garbage on TV.
It didn't help that he had blood on his hands. The death of his wife laid entirely at his feet. In a fit of rage he had pushed her down. She bashed her head against the hard edge of the table. Her temple slammed the extreme angle where the points came together to deliver a killing blow. It was unexpected. Samuel did nothing to help. He simply stared at her on the ground. He had often had nightmares. They were always incredibly vivid.
He sometimes struggled to tell the difference when he didn't remember to take his pills. The doctor had gave them to him so he wouldn't get confused. Sometimes he got confused. Things just got jumbled. Like the time he killed his wife. She laid on the ground pooling a puddle of blood into the soft carpet as he stood there waiting to wake up. Yeah, his life was a nightmare. The cops were useless. He fully expected to be locked away forever, but he heard the lies spilling from his mouth. That smooth talking way about him taking over. It sent him into autopilot. He heard himself saying she fell. The tears came next.
He could hardly believe that he was lying to the police. But he did it so convincingly. What shocked him most of all was that he felt nothing. They had been married for 14 years, and he felt nothing. Not an iota of sympathy or regret. He only felt the cold bite of nothing tugging at his empty conscience. The cops did their investigation and deemed him innocent. They determined that accidents sometimes happened, and there was no reason to look any further. Samuel was left with bills he couldn't pay. A daughter he didn't truly love, because he wasn't capable of that particular feeling; and a life that he didn't want.
He sat staring at the table. Staring at the pile of bills thinking about the moment his life had changed. That one fleeting moment when the world spun out of his grasp and things had changed. He heard the sickening crack of her head against the coffee table and a smile spread across his face. His vacant eyes staring at the pile of bills, though he wasn't really looking at them. No, in his head he was watching the blood pool into the carpet. He didn't hate her, but the power he felt taking a life made him smile. It was accidental, but it still made him feel powerful. He was lost in his remembrances when Dana asked him a question. It snapped him out of his lost memories. He looked up to see her standing in front of him. "What's for dinner?" She asked again impatiently.
Samuel looked up at her innocent face. He wondered if he could ever conjure up anything that even resembled love for the girl. Again, he didn't hate his daughter either, he just didn't love her. He felt nothing in place of where fatherly pride should swell. He sighed and stood up. "Let me make you something." He said out in an obligated tone. His eyes moved back to the carpet in the living room. He saw that little spot on the carpet that was just a slightly different shade than the rest of it... A smile spread across his face again as he began to prepare Dana's dinner.
What happened to your character on Outbreak Day?:
Bits and pieces of Samuel's psychosis had emerged before this. There were brief moments when he was, not quite himself. Tiny cracks in the armor that his sanity tried to hold against the insane. Samuel knew that he got confused sometimes. The doctor had told him to take his pills, but they were so hard to keep track of. Samuel thought he was confused when he watched a man hit by a speeding car. He stood there a moment outside his house and simply stared the blood. The car had sped through a red light. Swerving to avoid another car it hit a pedestrian and pinned him to a tree. The driver was dead. The pedestrian was dead. Samuel simply stared at blood on the hood of the car, and the slight twitching of the dead man trapped against the tree.
He had stepped outside to get something from his car and witnessed this carnage unfold before him. It was calming. It was peaceful. Something about the completely and total justice of an asshole jaywalker getting his comeuppance satisfied his less than human qualities. The driver in the car was leaning on the horn. There was a consistent blaring of the horn that disrupted the quiet stillness. A gentle breeze blew through the trees causing them to sway and dance. To Samuel it almost seemed as if they were dancing in celebration. It was a rare spectacle he was watching, imaginary or otherwise. It wasn't imagined. Those men were very dead.
Several minutes passed. Samuel decided to step off his porch. There was no one around. His neighbors were gone. The quite caldasack almost devoid of life. Everyone was off trying to reached loved ones, flea the city. Everyone else who was more present and aware in this world had ran. Samuel had a small disconnect from the rest of the world. He didn't know what was happening. He only enjoyed the moments in front of him as he walked closer to the wreck.
What felt like minutes to him had actually been an hour. It had been an hour standing there staring at the crash. Smoke trailed up from the hood of the crumpled car. The hood caught fire and Samuel was quietly delighted to see the man trapped against the tree catch fire as well. He moved closer. It took him forever to cross the street in his quiet daze. His neighborhood looked like a Boucher for the world's best neighborhood. "COME ON DOWN TO SUNNY VAIL!" The Boucher might say. "WHERE THE BEAUTIFUL NEIGHBORHOOD IS ONLY MATCHED BY THE VIOLENCE OF OUR CRASHES!" A smirk appeared on his face as he moved closer. His eyes squinted against the destruction as he inspected it closer.
He was so transfixed that he didn't even hear his daughter screaming. He looked over and saw that she had run outside. She had noticed her father walking towards the crash. She had finally decided to help with something. It was the something that would kill her. She had opened the door to help the driver when he came alive and bit her. Oh the blood. There was so much blood. Samuel killed the thing that killed his daughter. Not out of fatherly love, but reaction and anger. He watched his daughter cough up blood and die in the street. The body of the driver hanging awkwardly out the car door. His blood mixed with hers to make a larger pool that touched the tip of Samuel's bare feet.
The trees continued to sway. The gentle breeze continued to sooth. Besides the death of his daughter this was still a nice neighborhood. The wreck, the carnage didn't change that. Samuel looked down at the body of his daughter and only felt bad that he didn't care enough to conjure tears. He didn't cry for his wife... Not really, there were tears but they were forgeries. He wasn't even sure where they had came from when he talked to the police, but he shed no tears now... He felt nothing at all. His daughter died not knowing her father didn't love her.
Describe your character's life after the Apocalypse:
The days that passed since Outbreak day were always spent the same. Samuel had his routines. He had his rituals. The life of a lonely man was easily kept. Samuel had no one. His family was dead. He didn't care enough about people to find himself searching them out. He mostly kept to himself. There were brushes with death, times where he had to get more blood on his hands. Not, that he minded at all. Samuel was all to willing to get blood on his hands.
The thing about the apocalypse for Samuel was... It allowed him to be more of himself. Some people hid who they were. He always knew he was a quiet monster hiding among sheep. He had sometimes thought about what would happen if his less than civil urges and violent fantasies had come to be true. The world ended and granted his wish. It allowed him to be a truer version of himself.
The few people that Samuel came across his first few years he got along with. Chance and necessity stayed his violent hand. Samuel wasn't a serial killer for the sake of being one. No, he was still civilized. He wasn't an animal, at first. He just didn't bat an eye or loose any sleep over those people he put down. Everyone who has lasted the last four years has had to kill. It wasn't surprising. Not all of them enjoyed it, but those who did thrived like Samuel.