Enjolras (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
patria_ou_mort) wrote2006-01-19 01:06 am
patria_ou_mort) wrote2006-01-19 01:06 am
Entry tags:
A Treatise on Apping (and Re-Apping) at CFUD.... or not.
It took me two attempts to get in as Enjolras, my first CFUD character. Value and prize the power of re-apping!
The first app was done in approximately an hour before the application window opened. I had told myself that I was not going to do CFUD because I would drive myself insane, but in the end, temptation triumphed, and I really didn't have all that much sanity to lose, anyways.
...the first app would have been good in a place where the canon was familiar and universally liked, but for this, it really needed some editing that it wouldn't get until preparation for the next opening of camper apps.
Character: Enjolras (As a featured character in a lengthy nineteenth century novel, he is not granted a given name by the author – his player calls him Michel for convenience.)
Series: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Character Age: 19 (In his official description in canon, it reads that "his two-and-twenty years looked like only seventeen," but the point in time to which that age applies is somewhat ambiguous. He runs with a bunch of university students, and it is generally accepted that he is both young and strange for his age. I think that it would be reasonable for him to be about 19 when he first met Marius, i.e. circa 1828, approximately four years before the events covered in the musical occur.)
Canon: A young, fanatical leader of a group of student revolutionaries in early nineteenth century Paris, France. Not simply idealistic, he is presented in canon as embodying revolutionary ideal himself: "a soldier of democracy," a "priest of the ideal" with "one passion, justice." While charismatic enough to gain himself a following, he is also very stern, even harsh at times, and his single-minded devotion to what he views as the betterment of his country and her people excludes things part of a normal university student’s life, such as women, from his life. He is portrayed as primarily interacting with members of the political club (Les Amis de l’ABC) that he leads, though it is probable that he views his acquaintances more as political allies and debating partners (and oneadmirer stalker literary foil thorn in his side) rather than friends. In other words, he loves the People and has the ability to gain the loyalty of
people but still manages to be something of a social retard. For all of his speechifying, he prefers to be a man of action; during the Insurrection of 1832, he is less chatty than the other students during the actual
insurrection-ing, giving his big speeches during times of waiting. Oh, yeah, and Hugo says that he’s "angelically beautiful."
Sample Post:
It seems that the tyranny of Charles X is more oppressive than we ever knew. I was leaving the Café Musain alone last night (that medical student, Combeferre, has been insisting on accompanying me for the past few weeks, but last night said something about something being "like trying to seduce a brick wall"; I can only figure that he was metaphorically referring to attempting to convince the stone workers to our cause, though I must debate the use of the vocabulary of lust in his rhetoric), after being sure to check the street for those pitiable grisettes, who like to invade my personal space and blink rapidly at me for some reason, when all went black. When I awoke, I was in a strange forest; certainly not Paris, and I cannot say for sure if I am even still in my beloved France. I had not thought that the true nature of our meetings at the Café Musain were known to the police, but the recent election of the leftist majority in Parliament must have Charles X fearing (and correctly so, for the divine right of the people will triumph in the end – may I live to see it!) and, as a result, taking despotic action against those who would oppose his unjust rule. I can only surmise that I am a political prisoner of some sort, though it is odd that I would have been abandoned to my own devices rather than being confronted by an authority figure of some sort; still, not even presenting a man with the opportunity to argue in his own defense, no matter how futile his arguments may be in the face of unjust absolutism, is only more evidence of the king’s tyranny.
It is a relief to find some indication of civilization. This appears to be a printing machine of some sort, though I cannot locate any of the parts that one would think necessary for such a device (I am no student of mechanics, but I would like to think that I< possess enough sense and education to see what should be obvious). At least it seems to record text. If I am unable to ever return to Paris, perhaps one of my comrades – or any child of France who can and will bear witness of what the king
will do against the citizens of his own motherland – will find this. I have already been attacked once since I awoke here; a small group of pitiable individuals, their clothes and physical features eaten away by the ravages of poverty, approached me and attempted to do me violence. I was forced to defend myself, possibly killing one or two of them in the process, which weighs heavily on my soul. Still, a lifetime of abasement had possibly twisted these souls beyond saving. The unfortunates swarmed around me worse than the whores that gather in the Rue des Grès. I am not familiar with the native vernacular of the people, but the word that they repeated with the highest frequency and the greatest passion sounded oddly like "Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnsssssssssss." Perhaps it was Polish; I now regret not paying greater attention to Feuilly’s latestrant discourse on the most recent developments in Polish nationalism.
There is also the possibility that one of my "friends" finally succeeded in slipping absinthe into my glass while I was not looking; if that is, indeed, the case, I not only fail to comprehend the appeal of the drink, but I also plan to have a few words with them regarding behavior appropriate for those responsible for the deliverance of the nation.
I will now attempt to ascertain whether the unfortunates whom I encountered earlier were political prisoners like me or are the downtrodden citizens of this country. Their state of being appears to be truly miserable, though I have to say from my own observations that the rural poor, though destitute, are not as pitiable as the urban poor, who suffer from decay of the spirit as well as the body. If I can prevent them from attempting to gnaw on me in their great hunger, as the last crowd tried to do, I am sure that I will be able to convince them of hope; and from hope, to action. Though France will always have the highest place in my heart, perhaps I will be able to do some good here, too. In the words of Rousseau, "When something an affliction happens to you, you either let it defeat you, or you defeat it."
And even if this is nothing but a chemical-fueled hallucination, however, I will act as though it is real. I believe that the tree next to this printing machine is attempting to touch me in an inappropriate manner, and I am feeling too discomforted to ignore it as a product of my imagination (surely my imagination is not so depraved as this).
If this is absinthe, there will be serious words withthose useless and depraved university students my comrades.
To summarize: TOO DAMN LONG.
It's not a matter of just word-count, though -- the formatting is just not easy on the eyes. The large paragraphs were intended to emulate Hugo's style, but they honestly cause one's brain to fold in on itself (...like some of Hugo's long rambles, actually).
Also, canon was too thick here -- there was simply canon (and by 'canon' I mean not only the book but French history in general) for the sake of canon. No contribution to the funny. Perhaps some characterization contribution, as Enjolras would probably discuss such things, but still not good material for an app, especially to a multi-fandom shin-dig like this, where unknown canons can be, quite frankly, of no interest whatsoever until you get to know the character(s) better.
The best thing that I did, though, was ask people for concrit. ASK FOR CONCRIT AND BE NICE ABOUT IT BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE WILL HELP YOU. Sometimes you even get wibble votes. I got a number of wibble votes the first time because I was able to show that I had plans beyond "I don't think we're in nineteenth century France anymore, Toto". But I'll say it again. CONCRIT WILL HELP YOU.
And here was the result:
Character: Enjolras
(As a featured character in a lengthy nineteenth century novel, he is not
granted a given name by the author – his player calls him Michel for convenience)
Series: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Age: 19
(In his official description in canon, it reads that “his two-and-twenty years
looked like only seventeen,” but the point in time to which that age applies is
somewhat ambiguous. He is a student, and it is generally accepted that he is both
strange for his age and young. I think that it would be reasonable for him to be
about 19 when he first met Marius, i.e. circa 1828, approximately four years before
the events covered in the musical occur.)
Canon: A young, fanatical leader of a group of student revolutionaries in early nineteenth century Paris, France. Hobbies include debating, soap-boxing, declaiming, plotting the overthrow of the
government, stockpiling arms and ammunition, and carrying out the plan to overthrow the
government via building barricades. Somewhere in the middle of that, he’s a law student. He can be
extremely single-minded, harsh and intolerant, and future events show that he will not hesitate to use
violent force if he considers it to be necessary. Still, it is violence for great justice; his passion is for pursuing what he believes to be right, defeating what he views to be oppressive and unjust. People are attracted to him for that passion and his natural charisma, if not for his small talk. In other words, he loves the People and has the ability to gain the loyalty of people but still manages to be something of a social retard. He considers his country to be his "lover"; he clearly needs some intervention.
For all of his speechifying, he does prefer to be a man of action; during the Insurrection of 1832,
he is less chatty than the other students during the actual insurrection-ing, giving his big
speeches during times of waiting. Looking at the results of the Insurrection of 1832 (i.e. FAILURE),
we can assume that waiting is not his strong point (surely they could have waited until at least
four years after the previous revolution).
Oh, yeah, and Hugo says that he’s "angelically beautiful."
The necessity of revolution grows clear. The tyranny of King Charles X is more
oppressive than we ever knew. I was leaving the Café Musain alone last night
(that medical student, Combeferre, has been insisting on accompanying me for
the past few weeks, but last night said something about something being "like
trying to seduce a brick wall”; I can only figure that he was metaphorically
referring to attempting to convince the stone workers to our cause, though I
must debate the use of the vocabulary of lust in his rhetoric), when all went black.
When I awoke, I was in this strange forest; certainly not Paris, and I cannot say
for sure if I am even still in my beloved France.
I can only surmise that I, as a defender of the People, am a political prisoner
of some sort. This device appears to record text; it is prudent of me to bear
witness to what has happened to me, though haste is necessary, for my safety
is in question. I have already been attacked once since I awoke here; a small
group of pitiable individuals, their clothes and physical features eaten away by
the ravages of poverty, approached me and attempted to do me violence. I was
forced to defend myself, possibly killing one or two of them in the process, which
weighs heavily on my spirit.
Still, a lifetime of abasement had possibly twisted these souls beyond saving.
I am not familiar with the native vernacular of the people, but the word that
they repeated with the highest frequency and the greatest passion sounded
oddly like "Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnsssssssssss." Perhaps it was Polish; I now
regret not paying greater attention to Feuilly’s latestrant discourse on the
most recent developments in Polish nationalism.
There is also the possibility that one of my "friends" finally succeeded in
slipping absinthe into my glass while I was not looking; if that is, indeed,
the case, I not only fail to comprehend the appeal of the drink, but I also
plan to have a few words with them regarding behavior appropriate for
those responsible for the deliverance of the nation.
I will now attempt to ascertain whether the unfortunates whom I encountered
earlier were political prisoners like me or are the downtrodden citizens of this
country. Their state of being appears to be truly miserable, though I have to
say from my own observations that the rural poor, though destitute, are not
as pitiable as the urban poor, who suffer from decay of the spirit as well as
the body. If I can prevent them from attempting to gnaw on me in their great
hunger, as the last crowd tried to do, I am sure that I will be able to convince
them of hope; and from hope, to action.
And even if this is nothing but a chemical-fueled hallucination, I will act as
though it is real. I believe that the tree next to this text-printing machine is
attempting to touch me in an inappropriate manner, and I am feeling too
discomforted to ignore it as a product of my imagination (surely my imagination
is not so depraved as this).
If this is absinthe, there will be serious words with thoseuseless and degenerate
university students my comrades. There are times when I am fearful for the
future of our country.
It's honestly still a long app, but it appears a lot shorter and less impenetrable because the paragraphs are smaller. I broke things up using a system of "one funny per paragraph". I like that system. As far as actually cutting things out, gratuitous canon references were removed. Anything that struck me as possibly repetitive was cut.
The one thing you can't count on is people's senses of humors. Sense of humor just work differently in different people. Being both a "straight man" and "real world" type character, Enjolras didn't lend himself easily to outright "haha so crzy!" humor. My philosophy is to just make it as well written as possible, with in-character Funny. It might not appeal to everyone, but playing wildly for laughs is a turn-off for me, personally.
As for now, Enjolras is rather subdued at the moment, due to having spent some time alone in the woods when he arrived, and, as a result, having been rather cold, hungry, tired and lost. And when he did find the rest of camp, his brain was broken a little. But don't worry, he's a smart, strong boy, and he'll be better soon. If by "better" we mean "soapboxing at people, being rather rude to individuals whom he judges to be worthless and attempting to incite rebellion."
And that's all we wrote, folks.
The first app was done in approximately an hour before the application window opened. I had told myself that I was not going to do CFUD because I would drive myself insane, but in the end, temptation triumphed, and I really didn't have all that much sanity to lose, anyways.
...the first app would have been good in a place where the canon was familiar and universally liked, but for this, it really needed some editing that it wouldn't get until preparation for the next opening of camper apps.
Character: Enjolras (As a featured character in a lengthy nineteenth century novel, he is not granted a given name by the author – his player calls him Michel for convenience.)
Series: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Character Age: 19 (In his official description in canon, it reads that "his two-and-twenty years looked like only seventeen," but the point in time to which that age applies is somewhat ambiguous. He runs with a bunch of university students, and it is generally accepted that he is both young and strange for his age. I think that it would be reasonable for him to be about 19 when he first met Marius, i.e. circa 1828, approximately four years before the events covered in the musical occur.)
Canon: A young, fanatical leader of a group of student revolutionaries in early nineteenth century Paris, France. Not simply idealistic, he is presented in canon as embodying revolutionary ideal himself: "a soldier of democracy," a "priest of the ideal" with "one passion, justice." While charismatic enough to gain himself a following, he is also very stern, even harsh at times, and his single-minded devotion to what he views as the betterment of his country and her people excludes things part of a normal university student’s life, such as women, from his life. He is portrayed as primarily interacting with members of the political club (Les Amis de l’ABC) that he leads, though it is probable that he views his acquaintances more as political allies and debating partners (and one
people but still manages to be something of a social retard. For all of his speechifying, he prefers to be a man of action; during the Insurrection of 1832, he is less chatty than the other students during the actual
insurrection-ing, giving his big speeches during times of waiting. Oh, yeah, and Hugo says that he’s "angelically beautiful."
Sample Post:
It seems that the tyranny of Charles X is more oppressive than we ever knew. I was leaving the Café Musain alone last night (that medical student, Combeferre, has been insisting on accompanying me for the past few weeks, but last night said something about something being "like trying to seduce a brick wall"; I can only figure that he was metaphorically referring to attempting to convince the stone workers to our cause, though I must debate the use of the vocabulary of lust in his rhetoric), after being sure to check the street for those pitiable grisettes, who like to invade my personal space and blink rapidly at me for some reason, when all went black. When I awoke, I was in a strange forest; certainly not Paris, and I cannot say for sure if I am even still in my beloved France. I had not thought that the true nature of our meetings at the Café Musain were known to the police, but the recent election of the leftist majority in Parliament must have Charles X fearing (and correctly so, for the divine right of the people will triumph in the end – may I live to see it!) and, as a result, taking despotic action against those who would oppose his unjust rule. I can only surmise that I am a political prisoner of some sort, though it is odd that I would have been abandoned to my own devices rather than being confronted by an authority figure of some sort; still, not even presenting a man with the opportunity to argue in his own defense, no matter how futile his arguments may be in the face of unjust absolutism, is only more evidence of the king’s tyranny.
It is a relief to find some indication of civilization. This appears to be a printing machine of some sort, though I cannot locate any of the parts that one would think necessary for such a device (I am no student of mechanics, but I would like to think that I< possess enough sense and education to see what should be obvious). At least it seems to record text. If I am unable to ever return to Paris, perhaps one of my comrades – or any child of France who can and will bear witness of what the king
will do against the citizens of his own motherland – will find this. I have already been attacked once since I awoke here; a small group of pitiable individuals, their clothes and physical features eaten away by the ravages of poverty, approached me and attempted to do me violence. I was forced to defend myself, possibly killing one or two of them in the process, which weighs heavily on my soul. Still, a lifetime of abasement had possibly twisted these souls beyond saving. The unfortunates swarmed around me worse than the whores that gather in the Rue des Grès. I am not familiar with the native vernacular of the people, but the word that they repeated with the highest frequency and the greatest passion sounded oddly like "Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnsssssssssss." Perhaps it was Polish; I now regret not paying greater attention to Feuilly’s latest
There is also the possibility that one of my "friends" finally succeeded in slipping absinthe into my glass while I was not looking; if that is, indeed, the case, I not only fail to comprehend the appeal of the drink, but I also plan to have a few words with them regarding behavior appropriate for those responsible for the deliverance of the nation.
I will now attempt to ascertain whether the unfortunates whom I encountered earlier were political prisoners like me or are the downtrodden citizens of this country. Their state of being appears to be truly miserable, though I have to say from my own observations that the rural poor, though destitute, are not as pitiable as the urban poor, who suffer from decay of the spirit as well as the body. If I can prevent them from attempting to gnaw on me in their great hunger, as the last crowd tried to do, I am sure that I will be able to convince them of hope; and from hope, to action. Though France will always have the highest place in my heart, perhaps I will be able to do some good here, too. In the words of Rousseau, "When something an affliction happens to you, you either let it defeat you, or you defeat it."
And even if this is nothing but a chemical-fueled hallucination, however, I will act as though it is real. I believe that the tree next to this printing machine is attempting to touch me in an inappropriate manner, and I am feeling too discomforted to ignore it as a product of my imagination (surely my imagination is not so depraved as this).
If this is absinthe, there will be serious words with
To summarize: TOO DAMN LONG.
It's not a matter of just word-count, though -- the formatting is just not easy on the eyes. The large paragraphs were intended to emulate Hugo's style, but they honestly cause one's brain to fold in on itself (...like some of Hugo's long rambles, actually).
Also, canon was too thick here -- there was simply canon (and by 'canon' I mean not only the book but French history in general) for the sake of canon. No contribution to the funny. Perhaps some characterization contribution, as Enjolras would probably discuss such things, but still not good material for an app, especially to a multi-fandom shin-dig like this, where unknown canons can be, quite frankly, of no interest whatsoever until you get to know the character(s) better.
The best thing that I did, though, was ask people for concrit. ASK FOR CONCRIT AND BE NICE ABOUT IT BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE WILL HELP YOU. Sometimes you even get wibble votes. I got a number of wibble votes the first time because I was able to show that I had plans beyond "I don't think we're in nineteenth century France anymore, Toto". But I'll say it again. CONCRIT WILL HELP YOU.
And here was the result:
Character: Enjolras
(As a featured character in a lengthy nineteenth century novel, he is not
granted a given name by the author – his player calls him Michel for convenience)
Series: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Age: 19
(In his official description in canon, it reads that “his two-and-twenty years
looked like only seventeen,” but the point in time to which that age applies is
somewhat ambiguous. He is a student, and it is generally accepted that he is both
strange for his age and young. I think that it would be reasonable for him to be
about 19 when he first met Marius, i.e. circa 1828, approximately four years before
the events covered in the musical occur.)
Canon: A young, fanatical leader of a group of student revolutionaries in early nineteenth century Paris, France. Hobbies include debating, soap-boxing, declaiming, plotting the overthrow of the
government, stockpiling arms and ammunition, and carrying out the plan to overthrow the
government via building barricades. Somewhere in the middle of that, he’s a law student. He can be
extremely single-minded, harsh and intolerant, and future events show that he will not hesitate to use
violent force if he considers it to be necessary. Still, it is violence for great justice; his passion is for pursuing what he believes to be right, defeating what he views to be oppressive and unjust. People are attracted to him for that passion and his natural charisma, if not for his small talk. In other words, he loves the People and has the ability to gain the loyalty of people but still manages to be something of a social retard. He considers his country to be his "lover"
For all of his speechifying, he does prefer to be a man of action; during the Insurrection of 1832,
he is less chatty than the other students during the actual insurrection-ing, giving his big
speeches during times of waiting. Looking at the results of the Insurrection of 1832 (i.e. FAILURE),
we can assume that waiting is not his strong point (surely they could have waited until at least
four years after the previous revolution).
Oh, yeah, and Hugo says that he’s "angelically beautiful."
The necessity of revolution grows clear. The tyranny of King Charles X is more
oppressive than we ever knew. I was leaving the Café Musain alone last night
(that medical student, Combeferre, has been insisting on accompanying me for
the past few weeks, but last night said something about something being "like
trying to seduce a brick wall”; I can only figure that he was metaphorically
referring to attempting to convince the stone workers to our cause, though I
must debate the use of the vocabulary of lust in his rhetoric), when all went black.
When I awoke, I was in this strange forest; certainly not Paris, and I cannot say
for sure if I am even still in my beloved France.
I can only surmise that I, as a defender of the People, am a political prisoner
of some sort. This device appears to record text; it is prudent of me to bear
witness to what has happened to me, though haste is necessary, for my safety
is in question. I have already been attacked once since I awoke here; a small
group of pitiable individuals, their clothes and physical features eaten away by
the ravages of poverty, approached me and attempted to do me violence. I was
forced to defend myself, possibly killing one or two of them in the process, which
weighs heavily on my spirit.
Still, a lifetime of abasement had possibly twisted these souls beyond saving.
I am not familiar with the native vernacular of the people, but the word that
they repeated with the highest frequency and the greatest passion sounded
oddly like "Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnsssssssssss." Perhaps it was Polish; I now
regret not paying greater attention to Feuilly’s latest
most recent developments in Polish nationalism.
There is also the possibility that one of my "friends" finally succeeded in
slipping absinthe into my glass while I was not looking; if that is, indeed,
the case, I not only fail to comprehend the appeal of the drink, but I also
plan to have a few words with them regarding behavior appropriate for
those responsible for the deliverance of the nation.
I will now attempt to ascertain whether the unfortunates whom I encountered
earlier were political prisoners like me or are the downtrodden citizens of this
country. Their state of being appears to be truly miserable, though I have to
say from my own observations that the rural poor, though destitute, are not
as pitiable as the urban poor, who suffer from decay of the spirit as well as
the body. If I can prevent them from attempting to gnaw on me in their great
hunger, as the last crowd tried to do, I am sure that I will be able to convince
them of hope; and from hope, to action.
And even if this is nothing but a chemical-fueled hallucination, I will act as
though it is real. I believe that the tree next to this text-printing machine is
attempting to touch me in an inappropriate manner, and I am feeling too
discomforted to ignore it as a product of my imagination (surely my imagination
is not so depraved as this).
If this is absinthe, there will be serious words with those
university students
future of our country.
It's honestly still a long app, but it appears a lot shorter and less impenetrable because the paragraphs are smaller. I broke things up using a system of "one funny per paragraph". I like that system. As far as actually cutting things out, gratuitous canon references were removed. Anything that struck me as possibly repetitive was cut.
The one thing you can't count on is people's senses of humors. Sense of humor just work differently in different people. Being both a "straight man" and "real world" type character, Enjolras didn't lend himself easily to outright "haha so crzy!" humor. My philosophy is to just make it as well written as possible, with in-character Funny. It might not appeal to everyone, but playing wildly for laughs is a turn-off for me, personally.
As for now, Enjolras is rather subdued at the moment, due to having spent some time alone in the woods when he arrived, and, as a result, having been rather cold, hungry, tired and lost. And when he did find the rest of camp, his brain was broken a little. But don't worry, he's a smart, strong boy, and he'll be better soon. If by "better" we mean "soapboxing at people, being rather rude to individuals whom he judges to be worthless and attempting to incite rebellion."
And that's all we wrote, folks.