laevisilaufeyson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laevisilaufeyson) wrote2014-04-02 11:38 pm
laevisilaufeyson) wrote2014-04-02 11:38 pm
Entry tags:
app || entranceway
Name: V.
DW username:vvvvv
E-Mail: easypeasyeasypeasy AT gmail DOT com
IM: hodudududuh
Other Characters: Sherlock Holmes
Character Name: Loki Laufeyson
Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Timeline: Post-The Avengers.
Canon Resource Link:
One.
Two.
Character Background: Loki's background is extensive. He's been present throughout much of human history (history, not prehistory; his age is by my estimation only about three thousand years, give or take a few centuries; not remotely long enough to precede records). For most of his life, though, he played one primary role: that of prince of Asgard, son of Odin and brother of Thor, and the latter's constant companion. The Asgardians are known on Earth as gods, though in actuality they're only an immensely powerful alien species. Loki's early life among them was no doubt a pleasant one, but as the dialogue in Thor hints, things began to turn sour.
Not until the events of Thor, however, does he seem to set himself notably apart from his fellow Asgardians. Early in the film, however, the audience is given hints of a growing jealousy of his brother Thor – heir to the throne, beloved by their father, and by the common people of Asgard. Increasingly it becomes obvious that Loki stands in his brother's shadow, and has long done so. Even their father pays him far less regard than Thor – in more than one discussion early in the film, Loki stands silently while Odin talks to Thor. As their idyll begins to unravel, that Thor receives Odin's favour becomes increasingly obvious, as do the reasons for this.
It is revealed that Loki is not, in fact, an Asgardian, but rather of another species, the ancient enemies of Asgard: the jǫtnar, or Frost Giants. His discovery of this fact marks a pivotal turning point in Loki's story. Where prior he was mischievous, hints of his madness and cruelty only beginning to show beneath an outwardly benign exterior, after this, as he begins to slip away from all of the foundations with which he used to identify himself, more of the uglier sides of his psyche begin to show.
The film culminates in his attempt to destroy the jǫtnar and their planet entirely, in, he states, an attempt to rid Asgard of its most ancient enemy and save it from war – and to finally earn Odin's favour. Failing this, thwarted by his brother, he falls into the void and is, it seems, lost.
What occurs between this point and his re-emergence at the beginning of The Avengers is not clear. What is clear is that it has changed him. He has become far madder and far more chaotic and cruel than he ever was before. He's hungry for power, for recognition, for esteem – positive or negative. That hunger leads him in his attempt to conquer Earth with the aid of an army of aliens known as the Chitauri, an attempt which is ultimately thwarted by the Avengers.
Where in Thor Loki was subtle, icy and mischievous, in the Avengers he is infinitely more chaotic, his arrogance and his rage making him a hurricane, a creature who destroys and takes satisfaction in it. He's manic and furious at turns, utterly unhinged, particularly when all is going well. As his army begins to lose ground and as he finds himself close to being outclassed, that grandiose megalomania turns to panic which he vents through anger. After his defeat he seems to give in to exhaustion, to resign himself to his fate, and the film ends with him in restraints being returned with Thor to Asgard.
What classifies Loki, particularly in the Avengers, is dichotomy and potential. He states his intention to rule Earth well – to end war, starvation, the willing slaughter of humans by other humans. There is genuineness in it, some underlying understanding that by the metric he's been taught, this is right. Yet he feels no remorse in killing humans himself – his concerns are genuine, but they don't anchor him. Nothing anchors him – he trails the chains of what he once was made to be, but they no longer tie him down to anything. His actions aren't performed out of concerns for right and wrong, for morality, because those things are meaningless. They're inventions of cultures, and Loki has none. He has no species, no planet, no family; nothing but himself, his desires and his whims, his self-interest. This is what makes him so profoundly dangerous, so prone to destructive behaviour, but it also gives him the potential to behave in ways which might come across as considerate or beneficial. It depends entirely upon the benefit he can see in it, which may not be material or easy to quantify.
His age is also an incredibly important factor. Regardless of the scale of the recent tumult in his life, he is an ancient being, with all the nihilism and weariness one would expect. He knows better than anyone that life will go on, and so his attachment to states and outcomes is limited, which only serves to make him more dangerous. When nothing ultimately matters to anyone but him, in anywhere but his own subjective reality and that of others', there's nothing stopping him from murdering, torturing, destroying – nothing but his own will.
Abilities/Special Powers: Loki is supernaturally strong and resilient, this a result of Asgard and Jǫtunheimr's higher gravities relative to Earth's. The beings who evolved on these planets would have required far denser bone and muscle than humans simply to stand upright. He is also capable of using magic, drawing energy from within himself or from his surroundings and using it to affect things physically. This can be as simple as jolts of electricity or bursts of heat which can cause harm or as complex as shapeshifting.
Both the comics from which the Marvel Cinematic Universe is drawn and the myths of Loki told in the Eddas and other sources indicate that he is capable of shifting his form into that of other beings and creatures. For the purposes of roleplay, I assume he is capable of this, but that it is taxing and difficult for him to do, and therefore he uses it only rarely.
Similarly, though he is capable of something akin to teleportation in the comics, I assume this is an ability with limited use, necessitating a recovery period. The same goes for any attempt to use his magic to heal.
Somewhat easier for him is the casting of illusions, the creation of intangible duplicates of himself or other people or things. He is also capable of transmitting thoughts and impressions, but only upon contact with other beings. He cannot read minds, even when touching, only transmit thoughts.
As he is jǫtun by nature, not Asgardian, the form of him most people see and experience is not his true form. It requires some constant input of energy to maintain. The more tired he gets, the colder he gets, or the more injured he is, the more he begins to resemble the species to which he was born. I operate under the assumption that what kept him looking Asgardian before he came to know the truth was a spell of Odin's, not of his own, and that this is fading with time and distance. This will be particularly relevant for the purposes of the game, when presumably his access to Asgard is cut off.
I do my best to keep him balanced. He's not at all invulnerable, and I'm more than willing to have him injured and so on. Nonetheless, he is considered a god or a demi-god for a reason – he is an immensely powerful being, if far from immortal and impervious.
Third-Person Sample: The tales of Asgard tell of the threads of the Norns, each a lifetime spun and carried through a tapestry of others, each cut short, the ends tucked down into the crush of other threads, woven over, and forgotten. By that rule each twining of threads, each entanglement of lives, is fated. The charming creature who speaks to the devil animatedly, who swallows his smiles like liquor, who reaches out to grasp his hand as she tells some delightful and sordid tale and recoils in concern at the chill of his flesh – she was meant for that brush with greatness. Oh, in all likelihood she'll never know, but somewhere, if the Norns speak true, her thread once sent the finest of fibres out to rest against his own.
Loki does not believe in fate. That makes her all the luckier.
Her luck makes him benevolent. He spins her a clever tale in her own tongue, of her own tongue, flatters her, brilliant, look; that magnificent animal whose head was so cruelly separated from its other sundry parts and displayed above that delightfully well-stocked bar, that is die Deutsche Sprache. How? Well, how.
It's a fine tale, Romans, Emperors, conquest, and above it, over all of it, the word for that animal: Caesar's, now. And from Caesar, the world. Greek. Old English. The tongue of the vikingr, from sunny Italy to frozen Norway, dieses einfache Wort: Elch. An elk. He spins it charmingly, spins it well. Like he knows. Like he was there.
Which, of course, he was. That word was on an alien tongue too, a tongue that tasted the names of emperors before they drew their last breaths, men still heralded for their greatness even so many centuries after their deaths.
Loki is greater. That is, of course, the joke. She speaks now to a creature of vaster knowledge, of vaster power than any of those men ever held. With the right tool he could reach out and tear this planet apart along its faultlines. Even now he could tear any of these pathetic little creatures to pieces with his bare hands. Make her watch, perhaps. Teach her of devils, wicked men. Not to trust strangers in bars, at very least.
Or he could simply bed her, taste her, warm, organic, human, bestial, and her wholly unaware of course of the immensity of the act (virtually meaningless, in truth, but he is a god; there has to be value in that somewhere), but he can't see why he'd bother. That's not her purpose. Her purpose is to smooth out the lines of his ego as she does his collar and to let his eyes wander. The interest of another covers so very many sins, and as he so often does, the liesmith lies.
Loki isn't here for pretty blondes. He isn't even here for mischief. Mischief is a tool; this, this will be mayhem. Observe. Just watch.
First-Person Sample: I am curious. I have to admit, I am. There are so many of you, so many fascinating little creatures; how could I not find my interest piqued by you? I want to know: what is it that you wanted? Before this place. A quiet life? Mortgage paid off, babe in arms, your babe's babe, and on you go? A long stretch of mostly good days, monsters in the story books where they belong; yes or no?
Of course, let us be entirely clear – I am not under the mistaken impression that it matters. You are trapped here. I know traps, and this is a clever one indeed; and here we are. All of you.
With me.
DW username:
vvvvvE-Mail: easypeasyeasypeasy AT gmail DOT com
IM: hodudududuh
Other Characters: Sherlock Holmes
Character Name: Loki Laufeyson
Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Timeline: Post-The Avengers.
Canon Resource Link:
One.
Two.
Character Background: Loki's background is extensive. He's been present throughout much of human history (history, not prehistory; his age is by my estimation only about three thousand years, give or take a few centuries; not remotely long enough to precede records). For most of his life, though, he played one primary role: that of prince of Asgard, son of Odin and brother of Thor, and the latter's constant companion. The Asgardians are known on Earth as gods, though in actuality they're only an immensely powerful alien species. Loki's early life among them was no doubt a pleasant one, but as the dialogue in Thor hints, things began to turn sour.
Not until the events of Thor, however, does he seem to set himself notably apart from his fellow Asgardians. Early in the film, however, the audience is given hints of a growing jealousy of his brother Thor – heir to the throne, beloved by their father, and by the common people of Asgard. Increasingly it becomes obvious that Loki stands in his brother's shadow, and has long done so. Even their father pays him far less regard than Thor – in more than one discussion early in the film, Loki stands silently while Odin talks to Thor. As their idyll begins to unravel, that Thor receives Odin's favour becomes increasingly obvious, as do the reasons for this.
It is revealed that Loki is not, in fact, an Asgardian, but rather of another species, the ancient enemies of Asgard: the jǫtnar, or Frost Giants. His discovery of this fact marks a pivotal turning point in Loki's story. Where prior he was mischievous, hints of his madness and cruelty only beginning to show beneath an outwardly benign exterior, after this, as he begins to slip away from all of the foundations with which he used to identify himself, more of the uglier sides of his psyche begin to show.
The film culminates in his attempt to destroy the jǫtnar and their planet entirely, in, he states, an attempt to rid Asgard of its most ancient enemy and save it from war – and to finally earn Odin's favour. Failing this, thwarted by his brother, he falls into the void and is, it seems, lost.
What occurs between this point and his re-emergence at the beginning of The Avengers is not clear. What is clear is that it has changed him. He has become far madder and far more chaotic and cruel than he ever was before. He's hungry for power, for recognition, for esteem – positive or negative. That hunger leads him in his attempt to conquer Earth with the aid of an army of aliens known as the Chitauri, an attempt which is ultimately thwarted by the Avengers.
Where in Thor Loki was subtle, icy and mischievous, in the Avengers he is infinitely more chaotic, his arrogance and his rage making him a hurricane, a creature who destroys and takes satisfaction in it. He's manic and furious at turns, utterly unhinged, particularly when all is going well. As his army begins to lose ground and as he finds himself close to being outclassed, that grandiose megalomania turns to panic which he vents through anger. After his defeat he seems to give in to exhaustion, to resign himself to his fate, and the film ends with him in restraints being returned with Thor to Asgard.
What classifies Loki, particularly in the Avengers, is dichotomy and potential. He states his intention to rule Earth well – to end war, starvation, the willing slaughter of humans by other humans. There is genuineness in it, some underlying understanding that by the metric he's been taught, this is right. Yet he feels no remorse in killing humans himself – his concerns are genuine, but they don't anchor him. Nothing anchors him – he trails the chains of what he once was made to be, but they no longer tie him down to anything. His actions aren't performed out of concerns for right and wrong, for morality, because those things are meaningless. They're inventions of cultures, and Loki has none. He has no species, no planet, no family; nothing but himself, his desires and his whims, his self-interest. This is what makes him so profoundly dangerous, so prone to destructive behaviour, but it also gives him the potential to behave in ways which might come across as considerate or beneficial. It depends entirely upon the benefit he can see in it, which may not be material or easy to quantify.
His age is also an incredibly important factor. Regardless of the scale of the recent tumult in his life, he is an ancient being, with all the nihilism and weariness one would expect. He knows better than anyone that life will go on, and so his attachment to states and outcomes is limited, which only serves to make him more dangerous. When nothing ultimately matters to anyone but him, in anywhere but his own subjective reality and that of others', there's nothing stopping him from murdering, torturing, destroying – nothing but his own will.
Abilities/Special Powers: Loki is supernaturally strong and resilient, this a result of Asgard and Jǫtunheimr's higher gravities relative to Earth's. The beings who evolved on these planets would have required far denser bone and muscle than humans simply to stand upright. He is also capable of using magic, drawing energy from within himself or from his surroundings and using it to affect things physically. This can be as simple as jolts of electricity or bursts of heat which can cause harm or as complex as shapeshifting.
Both the comics from which the Marvel Cinematic Universe is drawn and the myths of Loki told in the Eddas and other sources indicate that he is capable of shifting his form into that of other beings and creatures. For the purposes of roleplay, I assume he is capable of this, but that it is taxing and difficult for him to do, and therefore he uses it only rarely.
Similarly, though he is capable of something akin to teleportation in the comics, I assume this is an ability with limited use, necessitating a recovery period. The same goes for any attempt to use his magic to heal.
Somewhat easier for him is the casting of illusions, the creation of intangible duplicates of himself or other people or things. He is also capable of transmitting thoughts and impressions, but only upon contact with other beings. He cannot read minds, even when touching, only transmit thoughts.
As he is jǫtun by nature, not Asgardian, the form of him most people see and experience is not his true form. It requires some constant input of energy to maintain. The more tired he gets, the colder he gets, or the more injured he is, the more he begins to resemble the species to which he was born. I operate under the assumption that what kept him looking Asgardian before he came to know the truth was a spell of Odin's, not of his own, and that this is fading with time and distance. This will be particularly relevant for the purposes of the game, when presumably his access to Asgard is cut off.
I do my best to keep him balanced. He's not at all invulnerable, and I'm more than willing to have him injured and so on. Nonetheless, he is considered a god or a demi-god for a reason – he is an immensely powerful being, if far from immortal and impervious.
Third-Person Sample: The tales of Asgard tell of the threads of the Norns, each a lifetime spun and carried through a tapestry of others, each cut short, the ends tucked down into the crush of other threads, woven over, and forgotten. By that rule each twining of threads, each entanglement of lives, is fated. The charming creature who speaks to the devil animatedly, who swallows his smiles like liquor, who reaches out to grasp his hand as she tells some delightful and sordid tale and recoils in concern at the chill of his flesh – she was meant for that brush with greatness. Oh, in all likelihood she'll never know, but somewhere, if the Norns speak true, her thread once sent the finest of fibres out to rest against his own.
Loki does not believe in fate. That makes her all the luckier.
Her luck makes him benevolent. He spins her a clever tale in her own tongue, of her own tongue, flatters her, brilliant, look; that magnificent animal whose head was so cruelly separated from its other sundry parts and displayed above that delightfully well-stocked bar, that is die Deutsche Sprache. How? Well, how.
It's a fine tale, Romans, Emperors, conquest, and above it, over all of it, the word for that animal: Caesar's, now. And from Caesar, the world. Greek. Old English. The tongue of the vikingr, from sunny Italy to frozen Norway, dieses einfache Wort: Elch. An elk. He spins it charmingly, spins it well. Like he knows. Like he was there.
Which, of course, he was. That word was on an alien tongue too, a tongue that tasted the names of emperors before they drew their last breaths, men still heralded for their greatness even so many centuries after their deaths.
Loki is greater. That is, of course, the joke. She speaks now to a creature of vaster knowledge, of vaster power than any of those men ever held. With the right tool he could reach out and tear this planet apart along its faultlines. Even now he could tear any of these pathetic little creatures to pieces with his bare hands. Make her watch, perhaps. Teach her of devils, wicked men. Not to trust strangers in bars, at very least.
Or he could simply bed her, taste her, warm, organic, human, bestial, and her wholly unaware of course of the immensity of the act (virtually meaningless, in truth, but he is a god; there has to be value in that somewhere), but he can't see why he'd bother. That's not her purpose. Her purpose is to smooth out the lines of his ego as she does his collar and to let his eyes wander. The interest of another covers so very many sins, and as he so often does, the liesmith lies.
Loki isn't here for pretty blondes. He isn't even here for mischief. Mischief is a tool; this, this will be mayhem. Observe. Just watch.
First-Person Sample: I am curious. I have to admit, I am. There are so many of you, so many fascinating little creatures; how could I not find my interest piqued by you? I want to know: what is it that you wanted? Before this place. A quiet life? Mortgage paid off, babe in arms, your babe's babe, and on you go? A long stretch of mostly good days, monsters in the story books where they belong; yes or no?
Of course, let us be entirely clear – I am not under the mistaken impression that it matters. You are trapped here. I know traps, and this is a clever one indeed; and here we are. All of you.
With me.