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17 December 2009 @ 03:19 pm
Hello my Duckies!  

NAME: Sarah/Olaf (whichever you like)
AGE: 21 PRONOUN OF CHOICE: She/her/it/that thing
EMAIL ADDRESS: cosmichamster@msn.com

CHARACTER INFORMATION NAME: Neil Richards aka “Moddie”.

Teen Titans.
88, but permanently has the physical appearance of a 26 year-old.
Male ROLE: Teacher; Pop Culture and Fashion

BACKGROUND: Moddie was born into a relatively poor family from London in 1921. Little is known about his childhood, but it is on record that he participated in the Second World War as part of a branch of MI6 despite his young age (late teens/early twenties), although his activities from the time are undisclosed and there was a large period of this time that was enitrely erased from the secret service's own records, who by is also unknown.
With a strong sense of allegiance to Britain and its history, Neil always strove to contribute to its culture as much as he could as well as learning all that he could about it, he also grew up with a strong interest in electronics and developed a refined technical ability especially after being inspired by the success of radar, and how technology was a strong factor in winning the war. His eccentric appreciation of fashion and his country, however, led him to be unpopular with his peers, who were becoming increasingly rebellious against the establishment. For many years he never understood this, but as the government became more restrictive and hypocritical, Neil became more resentful against the authorities which were suffocating the country that he loved so dearly; instead of turning him against Britain, it fixated his defence of the Britain that he idealised and loved, and hardened his scepticism and hatred of the system that was squandering it. In the sixties, when the revolution of love and freedom took place, he found the people his country behaving just as he had always dreamed they would do, and became an important peace activist and a big name in the underground market for drug dealing.

 He became openly famous when his name became known as a popular clothes brand, as he became a Carnaby Street fashion designer during the sixties. He specialised in the ‘mod’ trend and became very popular in the industry, but when it was revealed that he was actually using his label as a front to smuggle illicit goods inside his clothing he lost his reputation and landed himself in jail with a hefty sentence. This was not about to stop his crusade against ‘the man’, however, as he escaped one of Wandsworth’s most strongly protected cells within two months of being imprisoned, and to this day nobody has been able to figure out how.

 He reappeared in the public face not too long after under his new guise of the villain, “Mad Mod”, in an attempt to steal the Royal Sceptre, but was foiled by several mutants who happened to be on the scene at the time. A slippery figure, he continued to vanish and reappear with more hare-brained schemes which occasionally succeeded, but more often than not ended with him back in the clink. During this period he spent many years improving his knowledge of technology and electronics, becoming adept in methods of brain washing as well as advanced weaponry and remote controlled devices.

 On one occasion (when he was preparing for a harmless little bank robbery in Soho), he was approached by a group affiliated with the design and construction of super hero’s costumes. Initially reluctant at the prospect, he was eventually persuaded to fill the role after seeing some concepts by a rival, American designer (which he venomously declared to be fit for polishing boots but little else), and the promise that his employers would never refer to biscuits as ‘cookies’. Although he had something of a black reputation, after a while he became a much appreciated asset, his knowledge both of style and of the integration of technology with textiles proving invaluable to the clientele.

 After many years of this work he became an undisputed expert in the fields of electronics and fashion (he was also very talented at creating devices for hypnosis, and often forcibly had to be discouraged from ever using them), his research and discoveries contributing much to the fields of science and art in ‘super-tech’. One issue that always troubled him, however, was the onset of age- even during his rebellious days he had constantly sought a means to stay young, to become an immortal and eternal antagonist against meaningless bureaucracy and to remain attractive and ageless along with his fashion. He had succeeded in making very realistic holograms quite early on in his career as a villain, and had been able to create a mask of youth to maintain a façade of youth to keep his public image favourable, but it was only ever that, the man behind the mask growing older and weaker as the years marched on. Now in his early eighties, with the onset of rheumatism and the increasing awareness of death not being so very far off, his ‘Dorian Gray’ mindset was even more accented, and long nights in the lab with the excuse of developing new materials were fervently spent on insane experiments to extend his life.

It was on a late November night that Neil succeeded, entirely by accident, when he accidentally elbowed a cup of tea into the generator during one of his experiments with the hologram projector and mental link system. The resultant electrical shock completely destroyed his corporeal body, but somehow transferred his mind and physicality to the hologram. As a consequence he became an immortal projection; he even managed to create (after some further tweaking) a replication of physical substance and thenceforth has always appeared as a twenty-six year old, but he still has eighty eight years of experience and knowledge, not to mention his eccentricity verging on madness.

 After the accident he continued to work in the costume department for a little while, but he had started to find the work stifling and found himself longing to teach the world how to be just a little bit more British; fashion design was all well and good, but he had never lost his rebelliously patriotic tendencies. Aware that if this restriction continued he might well return to his villainous lifestyle (especially with his semi-electronic existence giving him the potential to hi-jack any number of computer systems), the Xavier Institute offered him a job placement as a teacher of Pop Culture and Fashion Studies. This suited Neil (or, as most people called him now, Moddie) just fine, leading him to pack his virtual suitcase of Beatle’s music and Monty Python films to join the unusual school.

PERSONALITY:  Moddie is pretty much stark raving bonkers and absolutely anglophillic. He is aggressively sarcastic, quick witted and very mischievous, and about as likely to play a practical joke on his students as they will be to play one on him. He can be exceedingly strict if someone displeases him, and might occasionally need to be reminded that restraining and hypnotising students a la Clockwork Orange is not within the ethics of the institute. He is very much a wild card, neither a good guy nor a villain, and will sometimes just as happily watch a disastrous situation with a nice cup of tea than offer to help out, or even make it worse just for a laugh. He is absolutely adverse to ‘the man’, is very anti-American and usually refers to the French as “cheese-eating surrender monkeys.”

APPEARANCE: Moddie has a skinny, lanky built and stands at 5’7’’ with a Beatle-cut of bright red hair and a keyboard-array of jutting teeth. He wears blue-tinted rectangular glasses and dresses in a variety of his own mod-styled clothes, from the classic fur-hooded anorak complete with Vespa, to a Union Jack blazer and white trousers or the standard dark grey pipe-legged Beatle’s suit with winkle picker boots. He also uses a ruby-topped cane which he uses to control various electronic devices (including himself, see below).

POWERS: Moddie is actually now a hologram. He is immortal, as far as anyone can make out, and can adjust how solid his body is, ranging from being absolutely physical with the strength and alacrity of your average twenty-odd year old, to a completely intangible projection; he varies this via the controls in his cane.

When solid he is basically just an ordinary human (with an extreme obsession with the UK and a habit of thwacking people over the head with whatever book is to hand if they’re being particularly dense, or un-British), but when he switches to being a complete hologram he can do many impossible things, ranging from flying to casually walking along the ceiling or using solid walls as open doors. He even has some limited ability to create illusions as an extension of his projection, but this can be very strenuous on his system so he cannot sustain them for very long at the risk of overriding himself. When he does turn into a full hologram, however, he cannot physically affect anything, and although he now cannot age he can still be damaged and hurt by electricity or energy pulses.

ANYTHING ELSE?: His favourite period of time is the sixties, but he actually has a very broad knowledge of global culture throughout history, especially about the British Isles and any regions the Empire was involved with. Although he has gained an immortal body and some rather nifty abilities to boot, he has never said if he is happy with the arrangement, although he is so eccentric and mad that asking him about this will doubtless never occur to anyone lest they end up being dunked into a giant cup of Earl Grey.


First-person sample:  

“Well, it certainly does seem like I’ve got my work cut out with you lot, doesn’t it my duckies? What did such a bunch of uneducated numpties have to land in my lap for, eh? Ah well, never fear my little snots, Uncle Moddie’ll be sure to fill those empty heads with some intriguing and introspective information, don’t you worry.”

 “-Now then, all very well meeting you teacher-ly lot, but when do I get to meet the students?”

Third-person sample:

Using front doors was decidedly for the ordinary, and if there was anything that Mad Mod was not, that was ordinary, as he twirled his cane in a dapper fashion as he glided through the wooden panels upside down. Continuing to stroll along the ceiling (earning a few astonished looks from whoever managed to notice the vibrant mop-top bobbing along above them), he looked about with a hint of discern.

 “Not bad, not bad I suppose…” he suggested to himself in his cockney-coloured accent, “not a mark on Eton, but still, can’t expect much from the Yankees.”

Setting his briefcase down (or rather, up, on the underside of a chandelier), he prodded an unsuspecting student below with the tip of his ruby-handled staff.

“Oi! Mucker, wouldn’t ‘appen to know whereabouts the mess hall is, would you? I’m dying for a cup of tea. Well,” he shrugged in a non-committal fashion, “not that I can shuffle of my mortal coil, but you know…”