Player Information
Name: Terana
Contact: shaladox @ aim, shaladox @ gmail.com
Characters: n/a
Character Information
Name: Pink Floyd (Floyd Pinkerton)
Journal Name:
backatthehotelFandom / Series: Pink Floyd's "The Wall"
From When: End of the movie. The lowest point of the worst night of his life. In the last 24 hours, Pink has found out that his wife is cheating on him, had a spectacular nervous breakdown (destroying his hotel room and seriously injuring his hand in the process), shaved his eyebrows off and apparently (he can only remember the events as they took place in the film - obviously not the reality of what happened) went on an incoherent neo-nazi rant at his concert audience before completely melting down. He starts to come to terms with how messed up he is in a nightmarish series of hallucinations, but instead of having the chance to make the necessary changes in his life (perhaps) -- he wakes up in Zone 15.
Function: Musician? Base morale? He has absolutely no combat skills, and not a whole lot of non-musical skills, period. But he'll make for a reasonably quick-learning (if easily distracted) jack of all trades around the base, until he finds a good niche. Combat positions are probably not wise, as he copes badly with that amount of stress. Fascist Pink will be much more willing to take on combat roles, but he runs the risk of being pretty kill-happy, especially if any "undesirables" happen into his line of fire.
Preferred Side: Civilian, initially. He's not much of a fighter, period, but the Civilians may be a little more willing to put up with him until he adjusts. If he's under the sort of strain that will result in his slipping back to Fascist Pink (which seems likely) he will more than likely make a beeline for the Militants (unless given a good reason to do otherwise), and that betrayal could lead to some fun
Abilities / Powers: Impressive drug tolerance? Impressive drug... addiction? Considerable skill as a musician and songwriter. (Due to the mun's need to be self-referential, can play any Pink Floyd or Syd Barrett song upon request, even those not written in his reality.) Occasional delusional spells, in which case one may add excellent public speaking skills and a lot of neo-nazism.
Personality: Pink Floyd is a character who combines aspects of two musicians of the IRL band Pink Floyd -- his drug abuse and mental health issues from Syd Barret, and the alienation that inspires the film's title, the family issues and anti-war themes, from Roger Waters, who wrote much of The Wall. The themes of Pink's life are ones of loss, mental illness, drug abuse, of feeling isolated from the world and the responses one can have to such a situation.
Pink's father died in WWII, when he was still an infant, and the loss had long-reaching effects on his mother and himself. He grew up with his mother as an overwhelming presence in his life, overprotective and controlling, which seriously affected his ability to relate to other people, especially women. These initial social difficulties were exacerbated by a childhood in a particularly unpleasant boarding school, his sensitivity and budding interest in music and poetry making him a favourite target for the headmaster's abuses.
In order to keep pursuing what he loved, he built up a resistance to such things -- the Wall -- distancing himself from caring about the opinions of others. This usually makes him come off as quiet and distant, but extremely self-confident, even egotistical and rude. He only pays attention to the opinions of others if he has been given a good reason to -- e.g., they control some aspect of his life, or are demonstrably better than him at whatever the topic is. And even then, it's very rare that he truly cares. There is a part of him that knows this is not normal, and that wants to be able to connect with others in a healthy way, but he doesn’t know how. Music is the way he finds it easiest to express himself, and is the thing that makes him most happy.
The one person he made a true, honest attempt to connect with in adulthood was his wife, Judy. We know little of their early relationship, but may assume that Pink did love her, as much as he was able, and she loved him back, supporting him in his artistic endeavors and lending emotional stability. But it takes more than love to make a relationship work. Already ill-equipped for relating to other human beings, Pink's marriage to Judy was strained by his growing fame, and subconscious fears of being hurt by someone who had gotten past his defenses. ("Mother, will she break my heart?") He dealt badly with the pressure of his popularity, resorting to heavy drug use to cope. He and Judy drifted apart, and when she met another peace activist, an older and far more attentive man, while Pink was on tour in the states, one thing just led to another...
...and that night, it turned out, was the same night that Pink, lonely and distraught, struggling with an existential crisis, attempted to call his wife, reach out to her. Hearing a man's voice answering the phone, his world came crashing down. He snapped, trashing his hotel room (details of the scene lead me to conclude that the groupie he's seen with in "One of My Turns" is not actually there), seriously injuring his right hand, shaving off his body hair and eyebrows, and retreating completely, for a time, behind his Wall, giving in to the fantasy of lashing out at the world from behind it.
He took on Nazi-esque dress and mannerisms (with a pair of
crossed hammers in place of the swastika), and in his own mind led a Nuremberg-esque rally against undesirable minorities (in his words, "the queens and the coons and the reds and the jews"), then a Kristallnacht-esque riot in the streets, and a march through suburban streets, spreading his message of hate.
In reality -- in my headcanon -- he got dressed in the uniform, and slurred his way through a mostly-incoherent version of "In The Flesh" before fleeing (or being dragged off of) the stage and hiding away in a public toilet in the venue, for the rest of the film's events. Hidden there, inside his mind, he struggled to regain sanity, with a sequence where he was accosted by the nightmarish caricatures of those who had the largest impact on his life, and added the most bricks to his Wall. In the end, he was judged guilty by his own self, and ordered to "tear down the wall," after which the film ends.
It may be supposed that he has regained some measure of clarity and a determination to attempt to form connections, because of the Wall's destruction, but the film ends on a very ambiguous note and the effectiveness of this development will remain to be seen. In the game, he will recognise the need to make a change, but will still remember how it felt, playing at being a dictator, needing nothing but himself and his hate. Powerful, invulnerable in his own isolation. And if events in Zone 15 weigh too heavy on him, he may retreat again.
(If this takes place, Zone 15 will have to deal with various shades of Fascist Pink -- just as detached from the rest of the world as Pink, but much more hateful about it, lashing out at a world he cannot connect with on any meaningful level. He emulates the Nazis less because he is an actual racist -- though he certainly is -- and more to try and push away even the memory of his own father, by emulating the forces that killed him.)
(Pink, just in general, is also more than a little racist, sexist, et cetera. But he's rather more quiet about it. That stealthy de facto racism that you never realise someone has until one day when just the wrong subject comes up.)
It's not a split personality sort of situation. (I played with this option briefly, and found it unsatisfactory.) Pink is still Pink, no matter the flavour. It's just a matter of mannerism and motivation. Pink withdraws. Fascist Pink lashes out.
History: Pink Floyd's "The Wall" -
1,
2;
YouTube.
Two small details that are not mentioned in the above (headcanon):
Pink Floyd is his legal name, but not his birth name. He was born "Floyd Pinkerton." He changed his name sometime before marrying his wife, Judy.
His band's name is "The Pink Floyd Sound."
Sample Journal Entry:
[Video]
[Pink peers into the lens like there might be something in there waiting to bite him. He looks like he's gained some weight in the time since his arrival, and his eyebrows are starting to grow back, at least in patches. His hand looks like it's healing up alright, too. Which brings him to the reason for this transmission.]
M'looking for a guitar. I don't have no money. Or anything to trade. But I'll do work for it. [A faint, mocking smile.] And I've been told I don't play too bad, if anyone'll sell one for a song. All of Pink Floyd's greatest hits.
Bonus: Fascist Pink on
Dear Mun. Sample RP:
He was crazy, no question there. Toys in the attic, bars in the window... (There was a song there, maybe. He saw the possibility, but didn't bother to pursue it. There were other things to worry about for the moment.) He was crazy, sure. But this place he'd woken up in, this stinking, war-blasted city, was too substantial for a hallucination or another bad trip. As far as he could tell, impossible as it was, it was real.
Hell, maybe? He could have died up on that stage, choked to death on his own bile and hate (and a not inconsiderable amount of stimulants) and woken up dead, and eternally damned. Had he been a bad enough person to deserve that? He thought back to chapel as a child, and the statements of self-proclaimed moral guardians that his music was a gateway to sin. He'd never paid any of it much mind, the concept of a traditional Heaven and Hell nonsensical to him even as a child. Maybe he'd been too rash. But, too, it didn't feel like Hell. (He wasn't sure how Hell was supposed to feel, but he was pretty sure this wasn't it. It needed more red-skinned satyrs with pitchforks, for one.)
So. Not hallucinating, not dead. Just -- somewhere else.
He leaned back, feeling the rough concrete underneath his fingers, and shivered, remembering where he had been before this. The Wall. It wasn't so easy as tear down the wall, a verdict screamed in hot fecal breath by one of his inner nightmares. He could see, now, what it had done to him, a lifetime of isolation from the rest of the world. But the prospect of tearing all of that down, of opening himself to the cruelty of human intimacy, seemed impossibly huge. Of course, he didn't have to. The counterpoint nagged at him. He could carry on as he had wanted to, in perfect isolation. If there was ever a place that jackboots and hammers were suited for, it was this battlefield. But the idea of losing himself to that cold hate again was as terrifying as that of baring himself to the world.
Could he choose neither? Keep a careful balance between exposure and madness? He had no idea.