Out of Character Information
Name: Hinky
Username: hinkydoodle
Are you over the age of eighteen? y
Current characters in Baedal: I'm what lurks in the Fog.

In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Temel Iskender Atalay
Username: ciddimisin
Fandom: oWoD (more or less) OC
Played By: Tarık Ündüz
Icon:

4. Original Character Section
Physical Description:

Alex is unassuming when it comes to his posture and body language. He's just shy of six feet tall, kinda lanky but in an athletic way (kid chases a soccer football around for fun all the time) and tends to blend into the surroundings with his unremarkable style of dress. All one hundred and sixty-five pounds of him can usually be found poured into a pair of trousers, a button down dress shirt and topped off with a vest or jacket--no ties. He's not fond of strangling himself. Football kits or jerseys with jeans and sneakers are about as laid back as he gets. Even his casual clothes are well kept and in good condition which leads us to his somewhat meticulous grooming habits. He has wavy dark brown hair that he wears on the longer side of short, his fringe is often feathered (it would make a certain Charlie's Angel jealous) and well coiffed. Likewise, he keeps his nails clean and trimmed, and save for the errant lingering adolescent acne breakout, his skin is usually clean, clear and his face neatly shaven.

Sexuality:

Alex young, and still largely finding his way in terms of what he truly likes and enjoys where sex is concerned. In part, any sex is good sex but then again there is still a host of things he has yet to explore...in theory, he likes dominant women. In practice, he doesn't really know what that is like.

He had a long term girlfriend (Samantha Porter) in high school that was the total sweetheart pairing people thought would last. He never got past third base with her and when she got accepted to an out-of-state-university, they both said bye bye with promises of getting back together on breaks and summers, letters, phone calls...long story short, during Rush Week, she opted for Greek Row life and found some meathead to bone. Alex decided that he was going to sleep with the first girl he asked out and said yes as a means of dealing with things (hah). It was awkward and unenthusiastic first time sex. He was 18.

In the intervening years, his sex life hasn't been much more involved or varied than that. He identifies as straight, has had his share of man-crushes that he'd swear were completely platonic, maybe even filial in nature, and while a pretty red head will usually catch his eye, he doesn't tend to do more than casually flirt unless they show some interest in him first.

World Information:

History: Iskender (Alex to his friends) is what he likes to call a 'first second-generation' Turkish immigrant who was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. His mother's parents came to the states in the Seventies, during one of the larger influxes of white-collared, higher educated, multiple degree holding men and women from Turkey found their way to the States. His father didn't immigrate until the following decade, pursuing his own degree at UCLA (where he happened to meet Iskender's mother). With a mother who grew up in Los Angeles and a father who grew up in Istanbul, Alex and his siblings were raised in a household full of mixed cultural traditions, even if the influence was (and is) still very heavily Turkish. His mother thinks nothing of celebrating Ramadan, a secular Christmas and football (soccer) may as well be the family's official religion.

His father is an engineer working for an A/E firm located mid-Wilshire in what's known as Korea Town. He's one of many project managers overseeing large commercial projects and his work sometimes takes him overseas. With a career as all-consuming as that, his mother has taken to only working as a part-time consultant (she began doing so when their first child was born and just never saw the need to go back to full-time work) as a landscape architect. Her flexibility means that Mama is able to run her home (and her children's lives) quite efficiently and effectively. It also means that when Alex was younger, she had the time to indulge him in his acting interests.

As a child, he had a moderately successful acting career in the world of advertising. A series of commercial spots for Welch's (he was one of those darling children who grinned for the camera after sipping a glass of juice. "Mmmm!"), a spot for McDonald's and a lot of long-running local ads. His mother kept a tight rein on what Alex was allowed to audition for, wanting him to enjoy the process for what it was and not end up being an overworked and very pressured child. There were offers of roles in film and television that were bypassed in the name of letting Alex grow up as a normal child, modeling interests that were turned down because his mother felt that industry was no place for healthy development and while her son sometimes said he wanted to be a star, she kept her foot firmly on the ground on the matter. Where his earnings and residuals were concerned, his parents put nearly every last cent into bank for Alex's future. At sixteen, he had the money to buy a reliable car. At eighteen, he had money to pay for college. At 21, he still has the luxury of focusing on his studies and not having to worry about finances the way many of his peers do.

The acting bug is still there in his system but it's mellowed. He works through a central casting agency as a background artist. He's an extra in a lot of television shows and movies that are filmed on location in L.A. or on studio lots in the area. Some day, he may actually have enough lines spoken to qualify for his SAG card. It's a tale that is common for many people in southern California and nothing he thinks of as unusual or noteworthy. The job is simply a means of quick cash, free food and simple work that he gets to do with several of his friends that happens to fit well with his university schedule.

That's the ordinary picture he'll paint for you of his life, his home and his family. Good, loving, close-knit people who believe in working hard for their successes in life. What he won't discuss are the abnormal and extraordinary oddities in his life. That well-developed sixth sense of his that has saved him from more than one hairy (scary) situation. The knowledge that the world isn't as simple as most people like to think. Things do go bump in the night, monsters are real (some of them aren't really so monstrous once you get to know them)and some of those so-called 'fringe' sciences and theories really do pan out.

He doesn't have a name for his gift, the ability to sense impending danger and ill-intent. What he does know is that it was given to him for some purpose and that he feels obligated to use the extra advantage to not only protect himself but those around him. That heads up, a warning, a split second of realization that the shit is going to hit the fan--sometimes it makes all the difference to the outcome of a situation. It also leaves him very open-minded and accepting of things other in the world. The bigger and broader picture where there is more than good and evil to choose from, it's a muddled mess of something in between and Alex tries to navigate as best he can.

Finding himself in Baedal is still going to be something of a surprise and a shock to him. He knew his world was weird, he had no idea it could be this weird or that there were more defined worlds, realms and others out there--he certainly going to make the best of a strange situation once he manages to orient himself to his new surroundings. He'll likely enroll in the university, find some means of supporting himself and really, really wish he'd never complained about the late afternoon traffic on the 405 freeway. He's fairly certain that was the moment that sealed his fate and deposited him in his present location.

Powers:

There are times when his "gift" or sixth sense makes him an asset--Alex can sense impending trouble or danger, foreboding. It's on the order of psychic ability in that he's capable of reading the vibes in a room, of a person and in a situation. Good vibes, bad vibes...he picks up on it. The next best thing to actually being able to "see" the future. (If this is good or bad is really debatable but Alex tries to look at it as a positive thing)

Likewise, he can sometimes pick up on latent activities that have already occurred in a building or location. If something bad, as in heinously terrible (murder, rape, extensive abuse) took place in a room, it would likely make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and cause him to feel grossly uncomfortable. The length of time passed or the amount of the victims distress can sometimes cause the level of his sensitivity to vary. Particularly disturbing events could make him nauseous, for instance, even make him throw up. Conversely, if something joyous took place in a given area, it's possible that Alex would wind up stifling a case of the giggles or feeling his own mood on an upwardly pleasant swing.

Talents/Abilities:: He has pretty capable hand-eye-head-feet coordination when it comes to juggling a football. If this lends itself to more practical applications, Alex will likely speak up about it. He also has a fairly pleasant singing voice in that he can carry a tune, his choice of songs to sing might leave something to be desired, however. As far as drawing on his acting experience, such as it is, he can (and will) play a great game of mimicry. He has a knack for accents, which he attributes less to acting and more owing to growing up in a diverse place like Los Angeles County where he was exposed to myriad languages and ethnicities while growing up.

Personality:

Easy going, curious and maybe even naive are the impressions Alex sometimes leaves people with. His youth can often be mistaken for innocence and his quietness for cluelessness. He's quiet but not shy. Alex will say hello to anyone, comfortably shows affection toward friends and family and enjoys conversation for the sake of it, idle and light or deep and meaningful. Still, he's far more the type to sit back and watch others interact, observe and laugh along at the jokes someone else is telling. Wary and cautious more than passive, he'll act (react) when need be but until that point, he's content to take in the world around him.

He's something of a calming presence in most situations because he doesn't cause a commotion or go out of his way to draw attention to himself.

Object: Seeing as he was sitting in the back seat of his mother's car at the time he was displaced, Alex has with him his football (it's a size five ball and weighs 16 ounces with a circumference of 28 inches) that he usually kept under his bed for good luck--at least when he hasn't been out playing with it.

Reason for playing: I wanted to play in a WoD setting with a character that fit in without being outwardly remarkable. Alex's powers and abilities are somewhat subtle without making him entirely mundane. He's just different enough. I have a habit of playing wildly obnoxious typical teen males or apologetically harsh characters (serial killing selkies, werewolves who eat their own) and for once, I wanted to take a more leveled and balanced character and explore a different type of strength (or weakness, depending on your POV) and hope to do that with Alex through smaller subplots that run alongside larger game-wide happenings.

Gods: Carme may be interested in Alex as he is a performer/artist at heart. It's tempered by his practical side and the need to be responsible but given the choice between mundane profession (as he sees it) or a stage, he'd rather be up there beneath the spots helping to create an entertaining escape for an audience. For himself as well. That mellow personality of his helps him to more easily step into the shoes of other roles. If she doesn't find interest in him, he just might take up an active interest in her.

Maryis would be drawn to him because of his gift. It's not drug-induced or enhanced by any objects, it's simply an innate ability that he has. A sense of his that was switched on at birth, separating him from the humans that only have five senses to rely on. He's a lot less likely to seek her out, however, since he has some mixed feelings about this ability of his.

Writing Samples

First-Person Network Post:

[The video feed flicks on and it's an extreme closeup of Alex's face, we're talking you-can-see-his-pores extreme. As it pulls back and his face comes more fully into focus, it's clear that the unit is upside down and he's holding it at what he would call a MySpace angle. Where and when he's from, phones and laptops tend to have these things built into them as a matter of course, it's perhaps the least weird thing about Baedal he's discovered.]

Hello, network people, it's the Alex show.

[He smiles brightly, having some sort of MTV Real World Confessional Moment then he turns the unit right-side up and his expression sobers, he's done playing.]

Okay, moment of truth. I'm really not digging my accommodations. Anyone need a roommate? I know how to cook--sort of. I clean--sometimes. I shower daily.

Please?

[There's a hopeful look, calculated in the wide-eyed and helplessness of it all, and then the screen goes blank.]

Third-Person Arrival Post:

Traffic jam. They were at a dead stop, no wait...a slow crawl. No, dead stop. The car was idling in the parking lot that the 405 became at a moment's notice. He wasn't sure if it was more frustrating to be a passenger in this situation or if he'd have rather been the one driving. As soon as his mother reached over and turned up the stereo, the dated and cheese-ball sounds of Neil Sedaka filling the small car, he had his answer.

He also had his football between his hands.

I love, I love, I love my calender girl

Thud, thud, thudthudthud. It was rather therapeutic to lean forward and thump his brow against the smooth leather surface of the ball. Thud. In time to the simple rhythm of the song, even. He had a test to study for, he had script to go over (so what if it was only two lines out of forty pages? Those were his two lines and he was going to own them) and he had a million other things to do that were better than sitting in the back seat of his mother's car listening to Neil carry on about some girl's life he'd logged in his Daytimer. Did they even have those in the fifties? Sixties? Whatever. Get me out of here. Alex wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere.

Each and every day of the --

Year. Where'd the year go? He lifted his head and started to ask why his mother had turned off one of her favorite songs when he became aware of the fact that he could no longer feel the rattle and hum of the car's engine either. Nor was he sitting on a vinyl car seat. His mother was gone, the traffic, L.A. and in their places was a wall of green tile. A lot of green tile. Four walls. Alex blinked, looked around and then looked down at the ball in his hands.

"Ciddimisin?!" His disbelieving exclamation could be loosely translated from Turkish into English as 'seriously?!' which he did just a moment later, "Seriously?"

Third-Person Action Post:
"Oh, god." It wasn't really a plea for the divine, it was common vernacular to Alex. It was an utterance that conveyed his dismay as he stood in the alleyway's entrance. "Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god." His panic, his fear, the nausea making the bile rise up in the back of his throat. "Oh...urgh!"

Followed by the retching and the gagging sounds as he got sick; the wet splattering noise as the remains of his dinner hit his shoes and the cobblestone ground. Stomach empty and his eyes closed, he came to the realization that those weren't his emotions he was feeling after all. Not entirely at any rate. It was happening again--had happened, in this case. Something wrong had gone on in this place, in the space between the two buildings. Somewhere in the shadows and the dank, claustrophobic corners of the back alley, someone--someone young, and confused and very, very frightened met an unpleasant end.

His head snapped up then. Death. Violent death, and none too swift, that was what he had sensed. That was what happened. The longer he stayed there, the more he could feel it creeping under his skin, cloying at him, tainting him. The harder it was to leave. Alex shuddered and then shook himself. Dragged one foot, twisted and toe-down, across the pavers to remove the worst of the vileness on the canvas footwear and then he turned his back to the entrance and walked across the street, just far enough to be away from that but still able to see into the alley.

He knew he couldn't undo what had happened. He knew, too, that no matter how long he stood there and felt what took place, he'd never glean more than that, no detail and no identities. He couldn't even be sure how long ago it had all gone down. That was the frustrating part of all this, what little information he had was all but useless. Who could he tell and what could they do with it? Something bad happened down a dark alley--it sounded ridiculous to him, even in his head. Of course it did, it was a dark alley. Wasn't that where every terrible cliche lurked?

Still, as he headed back 'home' he stayed on the opposite side of the street. Cliche or no, he'd had his fill of it for the night. Maybe for the rest of the time he would be in this city. He made note of which two buildings, what street, and told himself he wouldn't be back.

Misc
Other: He misses his pet box turtle named Soup.