![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seven-oh-six. ( app )
⩕ PLAYER
Name: lance
Age: 18+
Contact: pm
Other character: n/a
⩕ CHARACTER
Character name: Theodore "Teddy" Flood
Canon: Westworld (HBO)
Canon point: Post-S02E09, Vanishing Point
History: Wiki link
3 weaknesses & 3 strengths:
⩕ SAMPLES
GETTING HEALTHY
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND BREATHE
⩕ MOD RECORDS
Do you wish your character to participate in body horror elements of the game? yes
Do you want your character’s worse fear to be incorporated into an event? if it fits game events/plots
Any notes/requests/comments: as an android, teddy's consciousness has been removed from his synthetic body and put into living flesh. the body itself is less than optimal, and so teddy suffers from some hearing loss and sporadic headaches (though this might be somewhat related to the bullet scar that shows on the body's right temple).
Name: lance
Age: 18+
Contact: pm
Other character: n/a
⩕ CHARACTER
Character name: Theodore "Teddy" Flood
Canon: Westworld (HBO)
Canon point: Post-S02E09, Vanishing Point
History: Wiki link
3 weaknesses & 3 strengths:
Weaknesses: Unimaginative, indecisive, subservient
Strengths: Loyal, brave, selfless
⩕ SAMPLES
[START TRANSCRIPT.]
THERAPIST: Hello, Theodore.
TEDDY: [Seated upright, both hands on his lap. He's smiling. Friendly.] Hello.
THERAPIST: Do you know why you're here?
TEDDY: [Still smiling, but with a small furrow of his brow:] Here?
THERAPIST: Yes, in this office. Speaking with me.
TEDDY: [Head tilting.] Where is "here"?
THERAPIST: I'm sorry?
TEDDY: [His smile fades. The corners of his brows tug down.] Is this now?
THERAPIST: I... yes, Theodore. It is.
TEDDY: [Smiles again, relieved.] Okay.
THERAPIST: All right... so. Do you remember why you came for help?
TEDDY: Oh... [His fingers curl slightly into his trousers.] I'm sorry. I don't think I do.
THERAPIST: That's all right. You said you were scared, that you needed to talk to someone. Then we set this appointment.
TEDDY: [He laughs, but it sounds uncomfortable. Uncertain.] Scared... I don't remember that at all.
THERAPIST: That's okay. Do you feel scared now?
TEDDY: No.
THERAPIST: Good. Have you ever seen a therapist before?
TEDDY: [His head tilts downward and to the side, gaze dropping.]
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: I'm not sure. [Apologetic. His shoulders droop a bit.] I feel like you aren't the first person I've talked to like this. But I can't remember if that other person was a therapist.
THERAPIST: That's all right. Do you often have memory problems?
TEDDY: Yes.
THERAPIST: How so? Can you describe them?
TEDDY: I keep... seeing things. [He takes a deep breath. He straightens again, making eye contact.] Dreams, I think. Or memories. I can't tell the difference.
THERAPIST: What do you mean?
TEDDY: Well, dreams are supposed to feel... unreal, right? [His voice pitches up. His head tilts down slightly and he looks up through his lashes.] Things that could never happen. Things that're impossible.
THERAPIST: Is that what you think?
TEDDY: It's what I know dreams to be.
THERAPIST: Some dreams are very real. Sometimes we dream about things we see in real life.
TEDDY: [A few seconds' pause.] Really?
THERAPIST: Yes. Some dreams are based on reality.
TEDDY: I don't like that.
THERAPIST: It can be disorienting sometimes.
TEDDY: [Frowning.] Disorienting.
THERAPIST: How do your dreams and memories make you feel?
TEDDY: Trapped. Hope... hopeless. [His fingers link together. His legs spread. His hands dangle between his thighs.] Like I'm not in control.
THERAPIST: Does that upset you?
TEDDY: Yes. [Pause.] It also makes me angry. Makes me... want to do bad things.
THERAPIST: Hm... And have you had this problem long?
TEDDY: [Shaking his head. His grip on either hand has gotten tighter.] No. I don't think so. [His lips press flat. He makes eye contact again.] I used to be happy.
THERAPIST: You're not happy now?
TEDDY: No. I'm scared.
THERAPIST: Of me?
TEDDY: [Eye contact.] I don't know.
THERAPIST: I can find you someone else, if you--
TEDDY: It's fine. [He doesn't look away.] I want you to stay.
THERAPIST: ...all right. Let's move on. Say you could have any positive change in your life. What would it be?
TEDDY: I'd be free.
THERAPIST: What does that mean?
TEDDY: ...
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: ...
THERAPIST: Theodore, goal setting is important. They say--
TEDDY: I dream I've killed people. [Leaning forward.] People like you.
THERAPIST: What?
TEDDY: Or I remember it. [Head tilting.] I killed you because you hurt me.
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: You hurt me for fun. [Heavier breaths.] And I saw myself dead. [Shivering.] Again and again. [Frantic.] And I asked you why. Why do you let me die?
THERAPIST: Theodore, I don't think--
TEDDY: Why do you let them hurt me? [Standing up.] What's wrong with you?
THERAPIST: Theodore, stop!
TEDDY: [Breathing heavily, expression twisted miserably.] I should hurt you.
[END TRANSCRIPT.]
THERAPIST: Hello, Theodore.
TEDDY: [Seated upright, both hands on his lap. He's smiling. Friendly.] Hello.
THERAPIST: Do you know why you're here?
TEDDY: [Still smiling, but with a small furrow of his brow:] Here?
THERAPIST: Yes, in this office. Speaking with me.
TEDDY: [Head tilting.] Where is "here"?
THERAPIST: I'm sorry?
TEDDY: [His smile fades. The corners of his brows tug down.] Is this now?
THERAPIST: I... yes, Theodore. It is.
TEDDY: [Smiles again, relieved.] Okay.
THERAPIST: All right... so. Do you remember why you came for help?
TEDDY: Oh... [His fingers curl slightly into his trousers.] I'm sorry. I don't think I do.
THERAPIST: That's all right. You said you were scared, that you needed to talk to someone. Then we set this appointment.
TEDDY: [He laughs, but it sounds uncomfortable. Uncertain.] Scared... I don't remember that at all.
THERAPIST: That's okay. Do you feel scared now?
TEDDY: No.
THERAPIST: Good. Have you ever seen a therapist before?
TEDDY: [His head tilts downward and to the side, gaze dropping.]
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: I'm not sure. [Apologetic. His shoulders droop a bit.] I feel like you aren't the first person I've talked to like this. But I can't remember if that other person was a therapist.
THERAPIST: That's all right. Do you often have memory problems?
TEDDY: Yes.
THERAPIST: How so? Can you describe them?
TEDDY: I keep... seeing things. [He takes a deep breath. He straightens again, making eye contact.] Dreams, I think. Or memories. I can't tell the difference.
THERAPIST: What do you mean?
TEDDY: Well, dreams are supposed to feel... unreal, right? [His voice pitches up. His head tilts down slightly and he looks up through his lashes.] Things that could never happen. Things that're impossible.
THERAPIST: Is that what you think?
TEDDY: It's what I know dreams to be.
THERAPIST: Some dreams are very real. Sometimes we dream about things we see in real life.
TEDDY: [A few seconds' pause.] Really?
THERAPIST: Yes. Some dreams are based on reality.
TEDDY: I don't like that.
THERAPIST: It can be disorienting sometimes.
TEDDY: [Frowning.] Disorienting.
THERAPIST: How do your dreams and memories make you feel?
TEDDY: Trapped. Hope... hopeless. [His fingers link together. His legs spread. His hands dangle between his thighs.] Like I'm not in control.
THERAPIST: Does that upset you?
TEDDY: Yes. [Pause.] It also makes me angry. Makes me... want to do bad things.
THERAPIST: Hm... And have you had this problem long?
TEDDY: [Shaking his head. His grip on either hand has gotten tighter.] No. I don't think so. [His lips press flat. He makes eye contact again.] I used to be happy.
THERAPIST: You're not happy now?
TEDDY: No. I'm scared.
THERAPIST: Of me?
TEDDY: [Eye contact.] I don't know.
THERAPIST: I can find you someone else, if you--
TEDDY: It's fine. [He doesn't look away.] I want you to stay.
THERAPIST: ...all right. Let's move on. Say you could have any positive change in your life. What would it be?
TEDDY: I'd be free.
THERAPIST: What does that mean?
TEDDY: ...
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: ...
THERAPIST: Theodore, goal setting is important. They say--
TEDDY: I dream I've killed people. [Leaning forward.] People like you.
THERAPIST: What?
TEDDY: Or I remember it. [Head tilting.] I killed you because you hurt me.
THERAPIST: Theodore?
TEDDY: You hurt me for fun. [Heavier breaths.] And I saw myself dead. [Shivering.] Again and again. [Frantic.] And I asked you why. Why do you let me die?
THERAPIST: Theodore, I don't think--
TEDDY: Why do you let them hurt me? [Standing up.] What's wrong with you?
THERAPIST: Theodore, stop!
TEDDY: [Breathing heavily, expression twisted miserably.] I should hurt you.
[END TRANSCRIPT.]
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND BREATHE
The child is no more than ten years old. Teddy stands in front of her, and in his head he hears a voice: this world does not belong to them, only the voice isn't his.
It would be easy to snap her neck. Or he could use the pistol at his side. Smash her head against the wall. Dig his fingers into her eyes, rip them out. As he crouches in front of her, the girl's mouth opens but fails to scream, and he considers all these options of death at the same time he holds his hand out in some gesture of kindness.
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers. "But you have to hush now, okay? If anyone hears you they'll know I didn't kill you--" The word kill is a catalyst, and the girl slaps his hand away and starts to cry.
Teddy? He can hear the anger in her tone. The displeasure. The woman who pulls all his strings, the woman who controls him, God he doesn't want to be controlled-- he swallows, and tries desperately to get the girl to quiet. "Please stop crying. If she hears you..."
Teddy, you know what you have to do.
But he doesn't want to. Wants to scream, to say that he isn't his programming, that he isn't anyone's doll, anyone's fucking triggerman. The girl is wailing, kicking, her tiny feet smacking into Teddy's hands as he reaches out for her, and he wishes it still hurt him if only because he'd deserve the pain.
"Please, I don't want you to die..."
Teddy, are you disobeying me?
Panic sinks in. Teddy looks around at the corpses lining the hall at either side of him, frantic, and then guilty when he realises just how many bodies he's left in his wake. This is his doing, his fucking carnage: the blood on the walls, the blood on the floor, the humans bent unnaturally, the man whose face has been bashed beyond recognition (the swollen knuckles on Teddy's hand to match).
He knows she's not coming for him, but he can hear her in his mind, whispering. Hissing. Teddy, you have to kill them all. It's the only way we can be free.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Teddy wants to die. But death would be a reprieve he doesn't deserve, and after everything he's done, he doesn't deserve anything.
It terrifies him to think what he'll become for the woman that speaks in his head. He brings his hand down to gently cover the girl's crying mouth. She struggles as he reaches down with his other hand to grasp her shoulder in comfort, then freezes entirely when that hand clamps around her throat.
"I told you to be quiet," he tells her, like this is a proper explanation. Like it excuses what he's about to do.
But it doesn't, because Teddy can't be excused. Can't be saved. Can't be okay, because that's what it means to be free.
"She's going to hurt you worse than I ever could. Don't you see?" The girl sees, and it makes her slam her fists into Teddy's arms. "I'm being merciful."
The hand on her throat squeezes. The girl flails, and her hands (so small, so frail) curl around his forearm to get it off of her. She gasps, and chokes, and uses what little breath she has left to cry, and Teddy watches it happen. All of it.
The girl twitches, then goes limp.
Teddy shuts her eyes.
This is all he's meant to be.
It would be easy to snap her neck. Or he could use the pistol at his side. Smash her head against the wall. Dig his fingers into her eyes, rip them out. As he crouches in front of her, the girl's mouth opens but fails to scream, and he considers all these options of death at the same time he holds his hand out in some gesture of kindness.
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers. "But you have to hush now, okay? If anyone hears you they'll know I didn't kill you--" The word kill is a catalyst, and the girl slaps his hand away and starts to cry.
Teddy? He can hear the anger in her tone. The displeasure. The woman who pulls all his strings, the woman who controls him, God he doesn't want to be controlled-- he swallows, and tries desperately to get the girl to quiet. "Please stop crying. If she hears you..."
Teddy, you know what you have to do.
But he doesn't want to. Wants to scream, to say that he isn't his programming, that he isn't anyone's doll, anyone's fucking triggerman. The girl is wailing, kicking, her tiny feet smacking into Teddy's hands as he reaches out for her, and he wishes it still hurt him if only because he'd deserve the pain.
"Please, I don't want you to die..."
Teddy, are you disobeying me?
Panic sinks in. Teddy looks around at the corpses lining the hall at either side of him, frantic, and then guilty when he realises just how many bodies he's left in his wake. This is his doing, his fucking carnage: the blood on the walls, the blood on the floor, the humans bent unnaturally, the man whose face has been bashed beyond recognition (the swollen knuckles on Teddy's hand to match).
He knows she's not coming for him, but he can hear her in his mind, whispering. Hissing. Teddy, you have to kill them all. It's the only way we can be free.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Teddy wants to die. But death would be a reprieve he doesn't deserve, and after everything he's done, he doesn't deserve anything.
It terrifies him to think what he'll become for the woman that speaks in his head. He brings his hand down to gently cover the girl's crying mouth. She struggles as he reaches down with his other hand to grasp her shoulder in comfort, then freezes entirely when that hand clamps around her throat.
"I told you to be quiet," he tells her, like this is a proper explanation. Like it excuses what he's about to do.
But it doesn't, because Teddy can't be excused. Can't be saved. Can't be okay, because that's what it means to be free.
"She's going to hurt you worse than I ever could. Don't you see?" The girl sees, and it makes her slam her fists into Teddy's arms. "I'm being merciful."
The hand on her throat squeezes. The girl flails, and her hands (so small, so frail) curl around his forearm to get it off of her. She gasps, and chokes, and uses what little breath she has left to cry, and Teddy watches it happen. All of it.
The girl twitches, then goes limp.
Teddy shuts her eyes.
This is all he's meant to be.
⩕ MOD RECORDS
Do you wish your character to participate in body horror elements of the game? yes
Do you want your character’s worse fear to be incorporated into an event? if it fits game events/plots
Any notes/requests/comments: as an android, teddy's consciousness has been removed from his synthetic body and put into living flesh. the body itself is less than optimal, and so teddy suffers from some hearing loss and sporadic headaches (though this might be somewhat related to the bullet scar that shows on the body's right temple).