(no subject)
User Name/Nick: Alexei
User LJ: c_abyss
AIM/IM: Anubis13376
E-mail: Anubis612@gmail.com
Other Characters: N/A
Character Name: Withnail
Series: Withnail and I
Age: 29
From When?: 1969, after drinking wine from the barrel of a rifle before finally shooting himself.
Inmate/Warden: Inmate. Flippant and rude towards others, and a coward when it comes to personal responsibilities, Withnail has frequent trouble with the law due to drunkenness. He also has a tendency to manipulate others, even close friends, to his own gain, which is often just more booze.
Item: N/A
Abilities/Powers: Drunkenness? Otherwise, normal human.
Personality: Withnail is a manipulative, but at times, charming scoundrel with a propensity for booze. He lives like a bohemian, with high aspirations constantly foiled by his boorish behavior and love of alcohol. He is insufferable even to his closest friends, such as Marwood, who he manipulates towards short sighted goals.
Withnail puts on a front to those around him, presenting himself as a thespian destined for higher places, and with this, he is often arrogant and rude. "Officious" might be a good word to describe him. Although it's clear to almost all who know him well that he is going nowhere in life, he clings to the pretenses of a cultured aristocrat, continually making demands on the people around him.
To his uncle, he lies, stating he has a career in TV, intending to play the part of Hamlet. He also makes up stories and lies on a whim, telling people he's a journalist, the victim of a rare heart condition, his wife is having a baby, he's a multi-millionaire intending to buy this place and sell it, etc. In a sense, he's always in character, and he's always demanding his booze.
Behind this exterior, though, he deeply cares about his best friend Marwood, and he has a true, sincere passion for theatre. He has just been unable to succeed in getting roles even for commercials and overtime, he's come to look at it all as a farce without giving up his determination to succeed, even while continuing his self destructive behavior.
Other people will probably find Withnail to be obnoxious, manipulative, insufferable, and cowardly. But at times, they may find a charming, theatrical bohemian in their midst. All the same, they will probably wish that he could close his mouth for more than a minute at a time.
Withnail was born to a wealthy family that quickly put pressure upon him to succeed, and throughout his life, he has never been able to please them and has felt like a black sheep. Approaching 30, and still a deadbeat whose every job offer has been sabotaged in some kind of way by either bad luck or his own brash behavior, he has grown bitter and jaded. It's implied his father wants nothing to do with him, probably because the only thing Withnail would want from him at this point is more cash for booze.
In the mean time, his friend Marwood, who was previously in the same position as him, had been offered the lead role in a production in Manchester. Withnail had to say goodbye to his friend, who saw Withnail as a part of his past that he was leaving behind for a brighter future. Alone, and despondent, his dependency on the person he had manipulated was revealed. He made his first and last great performance, a rendition of Hamlet’s “What a piece of work is a man” soliloquy to a pack of wolves in the rain, and he finally reveals himself to be an eloquent, graceful and talented man, who loved his friend Marwood, and who truly enjoyed his companionship.
Path to Redemption: A once a week AA session with his warden, or something similar. He would need a warden with knowledge of psychiatry to treat the underlying reasons for his alcoholism. Steady employment, and preferably involvement in a play or theatrical production of some sort to help bolster his self esteem. He does love theatre, and he needs to learn that if he works hard and doesn't treat life like a joke, he actually can succeed.
History: The history of Withnail is sparse. What is known is that he was born to a wealthy family with roots in acting, his uncle, in particular, having held the same aspirations as he did. After his education at the elite Harrow School, he moved into a cheap flat with his friend Marwood in Camden Town, London, sometime in the 60’s. After many steady years of unemployment and bohemianism, Marwood eventually left to Manchester with the promise of a budding career, while Withnail was evicted from his flat, and left without a friend.
A link to the plot of the movie.
Sample Journal Entry: Once more, the cruel fates have conspired against me! I am unable to find a lick of booze, and I know just why! That dumb oaf has drunk it down to the very last drop!
Fine wine is wasted on such a specimen, just in one end and out the other, and what for? The revelry of a Neanderthal and their tart!?
Oh, but for me, it is an elixir. Fill my cup and I give you Shakespeare in return, not sitting on my arse in the bathtub all day.
Now I am stuck in this cell with these rank barbarians. Atleast that oaf bothers to bathe himself, but the rest of the lot just slobber up the walls: degenerates, all of them!
How could they place me, a trained actor, a thespian, a man of charm and grace, in here with these imbeciles! If I do not get out of here soon, then I will grow as stupid as them, shitting myself like a monkey in a cage!
Sample RP: Withnail sat on the floor, flanked on all sides by empty bottles of wine and ale, each bottle serving to remind him of what he had at one time, and now had no more. He looked towards the door, knowing that all he had to do was step outside, walk a few blocks to the wine store, and bring the bounty back to his flat, and he knew that there was a better option.
“Marwooooooood, we need more boooooooze,” yet despite his desperate plea, there was no reply. The house was empty, with but the empty memories of finer times there to torment him. He looked towards the door and knew just what he had to do. His stomach knotted up in nausea, as he stood and stumbled towards the door. His head felt like a thousand hells had taken roost, with pitchforks running through every inch of his skull.
The smallest trickles of light that penetrated through the greasy haze of London still managed to seer Withnail’s eyes as he stepped outside. Working his way to the winestore, he passed an old lady walking her dog. “Morning,” she said, greeting Withnail.
“Fuck off!”
She flashed her dentures in a scowl brimming with disgust. Eventually, he made his way to the winestore, and quickly scooped up several bottles of Sherry, dropping them off with a clank onto the counter.
“A bit early for the festivities, isn’t it, sir,” said the clerk at the counter.
“A bit early to be a nosy twat, isn’t it, sirrrr?” replied Withnail as he placed several fivers onto the counter. The clerk, bemused, dropped the bottles into a bag, and pushed it into Withnail’s hands. Withnail promptly left the store, feeling a bit better about his day.
Special Notes: None.