Wake App

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Personal Information
Name: Ang H.
Age: 35
Personal Journal: justthemun
Email / Plurk / Discord / Other: chartharsis
Current Character(s): N/A

Character Information
Character Name: The Master / Harold Saxon
Fandom: Doctor Who



Character History:
TARDIS Wikia, ahoy! The TL;DR of this particular regeneration goes as follows:
* Regenerated on a planet at the end of the universe & stole the Doctor's TARDIS
* Faked the identity Harold Saxon, married a woman named Lucy, & became elected Prime Minister in the time it took the Doctor to catch up
* Cannibalized the TARDIS to create a paradox machine
* Aged the Doctor into this creepy Gollum-lookin' thing for the lols
* Enslaved Martha Jones' family as his personal servants for the lols
* Tortured Jack Harkness on a daily basis - again, for the lols
* Brought creatures called The Toclafane back through a paradoxical rift in time & space to literally decimate Earth's population until he was overthrown by Martha Jones & shot by his wife
* Resurrected by his wife's crazy cult and came back with creepy Skeletor lightning powers and rabid, weird obsession with meat (thanks for that, writers)
* Found out the Time Lords had reverse-engineered his madness by subliminally driving him crazy with the sound of Gallifreyan war drums so that they could bring Gallifrey through a rift in space-time
* Supposedly died AGAIN sending the Time Lord Council back through the rift
* Survived (like he do) to show up on the Cyberman planet of origin, Mondas, where he was subtly influencing the development of the Cybermen as a trap for the Doctor because why the hell not. Oh, and the drums and the lightning powers and the meat obsession are gone now. Thank God.

Character Personality:
Since his first regeneration, the Master has always had a flair for the dramatic: he loves complicated, convoluted, often ridiculous plans, complete with disguises and extensive monologuing. The Master has always wanted to watch the universe burn: sometimes out of malice, sometimes just for the sheer fun of it, but always with one simple rule: somehow, his oldest frenemy must be involved. If the Doctor is Sherlock Holmes, the Master is his Moriarty. They are well-matched on every level, and on occasion, it is only through chance that good wins the day. A later incarnation, Missy, waves off the fact that they're always trying to kill or trap each other by saying: "It's our texting." The Master is amused by other races in that they serve as good tools or playthings, but generally considers himself above them. He garners as much enjoyment from putting a plan together and watching it build to fruition as he does executing it, and occasionally his eagerness for the endgame can cause him to prematurely show his hand or let something crucial slip. His underestimation of his pawns or the "lesser mortals" around him are often factors in his downfall, as well. But these are traits that all versions of The Master share, so let's look at the one John Simm plays, specifically, throughout Series 3,4, and 10. (I'm taking him from just prior to his appearance in Series 10, while he's waiting for the Doctor to arrive on Mondas, the planet of the Cybermen, because there's a lot of character growth opportunity there.)

The Master is, world without end, absolutely bonkers, but he wears it well in this regeneration. From his first breath, it's apparent that he has boundless energy: quite possibly to make up for having been bound in a Chameleon Arch for an entire lifetime.

This is the regeneration where the Time Lords' manipulation of him reached its culimination: a psychic projection of the sound of Gallifreyan war drums throughout time and space, which were a driving force behind most of his actions. The invasion of Earth by the Toclafane, the plan to conquer Earth and then Gallifrey ... all of those were largely to make the drumming in his head stop. The Master believed that it was a call to war, and that maybe, if he won the war, the noise would cease. In chasing down that war, he became a genuine fan of wanton violence and destruction, specializing in quiet manipulation of other people, instead of the blatant "I am the Master and you will obey me" theatrics of his past. His plans are still grandiose and far-reaching, but far less on the ridiculous side. He's learned from his past mistakes, and is more a fan of playing The Long Game, seeding one large scheme with smaller events, letting other adversaries of the Doctor do his dirty work, orchestrating events he sees around him and weaving other chance occurences as they come into the fabric of his plan, turning them into advantages whenever possible. Whereas his previous regenerations played checkers or Sorry, this Master plays something closer to chess. He hasn't quite reached that level of sophistication yet, but he's certainly trying... and he's getting nostalgic in his old age, gradually reclaiming his fondness for disguises and misdirection.

In avenues other than How He Does Evil, the Master's far more visible madness and excess energy come together in a personality cocktail which results in what most would call A Very Large Ham. He's more than just a little fabulous: fond of innuendo, jazz hands, guyliner, and Scissor Sisters. He's an equal opportunity flirter, far more openly sexual than his previous regenerations, and takes very little seriously. Whether it's madness or nihilism, consequences don't really register for him, and he does what he wants. He doesn't have a lot of regard for personal space or the concept of belonging: he'll get right up in someone's face, help himself to whatever he likes, and then, if he doesn't care for whatever he's taken, throw it over his shoulder and leave it to ruin. If he makes a mess, it's someone else's to clean up. Responsibility is something that happens to other people.

If you'll permit me, I'd like to separate the rest of this personality rundown into two sections: The Master With Others, and The Master With The Doctor.

The Master With Others:

He swings back and forth from being able to "pass" as a sane, normal, intelligent human being to gleefully unhinged in the blink of an eye. He has an extremely childish side to him: he watches cartoons, carries around bags of candy (including jelly babies, a habit he picked up from his dear old frenemy), and generally presents a cheerful, pleasant facade to anyone he's trying to win over. If that attempt at friendship fails, he's prone to mocking people who criticize him with exaggerated faces and all the tact and diplomacy of a five-year-old.

If he does manage to win someone over, he'll treat them well: you take care of your assets and your resources, after all. As long as someone is useful to him, he'll be kind and courteous ... but careful. He knows that the world is full of backstabbers, and especially after being shot by his late wife, he's keen not to let any plaything in too close. Give him no reasons to doubt you, and he'll give you no reasons to hate him.

But if it becomes clear to the Master that he's not going to be able to make friends, or pull the wool over someone's eyes, he stops trying, and gets bored with it pretty quickly. He has little patience for righteous speeches or people trying to oppose him, and will humor them just long enough to figure out a way to kill or incapacitate them. When that moment arrives, he executes whatever plan he has with a slow, building sense of relish, until the climactic moment, which he delivers with vindictive glee and a snarling smile.

(Any accusations or allegations of insanity are, of course, gladly acknowledged, either way. Why, yes, he is mad, thank you for noticing.)

The Master With The Doctor

What do you say about two childhood friends whose longest-standing shared activity is ruining each other's plans and trying to kill each other? The Master has a genuine fondness for the Doctor, but it's tempered by a very deep, old, bitter wound made by a broken promise: that they would see every star in the universe together. The Doctor ran from Gallifrey and left the Master behind, leaving him to chase after and burn the universe in his wake. Once his madness set in, it began to twist that old friendship, and time and tide have made love indistinguishable from hatred. The Master is so glad to see the Doctor after Utopia, to have his old friend and playmate back: but just as quick to plot to ruin his life. He detests the idea that the Doctor thinks he can "fix" him, as though his madness and inclination toward violence and evil are a disease that can be cured, rather than a part and parcel of who he is. He genuinely enjoys killing and destruction, relishes them, and the thought of being tied up like a pet dog and brought to heel disgusts him. The Tenth Doctor offers on a few occasions to save him, and on each, the Master's response is that he'd quite literally rather die: something he'll assert again in his near future.

That being said, however, at this canon point, the Master is living without the sound of the drums pounding away in his head. He's been ripped from death, given extraordinary powers beyond even a Time Lord, and had them stripped away just as quickly. Much of his inherent bitterness comes from being abandoned by the Doctor and manipulated so horribly by his own people. The sudden silence in his mind might make him realize he's got a lot to think about ... and in that silence, who knows what the Doctor might be able to convince him of ... what changes and growth might be possible upon Wakening? Perhaps he might be salvagable after all, given a great deal of time and effort.


Strengths: Skilled with mechanics (specifically gadgetry), charismatic, clever, manipulative, ruthless, batshit insane
Weaknesses: Stubborn, childish, capricious, egotistical, occasionally single-minded, batshit insane

Powers and Abilities: The Master is a Time Lord, which means that above all, he comes with a certain amount of regenerations. Canon has been SO FUNKY about the Master through time that we have no idea how many he actually has LEFT, though it's implied in "Utopia" that they gave him at least a handful more for his promise to serve in the Time War before he draft-dodged. (The Wiki says this is his seventeenth, but really, who knows?) Time Lords are also physically more complicated than humans: specifically, they have two hearts, and have a higher tolerance for more extreme conditions (they can breathe in the vaccuum of space for a limited amount of time and stand extreme temperatures more readily than humans). They also do not need to sleep, but can if they prefer to.

Aside from his regenerative abilities, it's been proven that the Master has two other abilities by gift of his race: sensing time, and psychic contact. He can feel the turn of the planets and the passage of time, as well as the extent of how they both affect reality at any given moment. He can tell if gravity has been altered or is artificial, whether or not a moment or object is a fixed point in time, and read the timeline around him like most would a clock or a calendar by the regular use of any of the standard five senses. His psychic ability is very strong: in other regenerations he's been shown using it to hypnotize or control people, though he doesn't use it as much in this one, preferring to let charisma do the heavy lifting. Once he begins to learn to Bend, however, he's likely to pick it up quickly, due to the strength of his will and a Time Lord's natural psychic capacity.

The Master would also be arriving with his Laser Screwdriver (because really, Doctor, who'd have sonic?). It is a device capable of vaporizing or manipulating matter on a molecular scale. I've been told by other players that this would be nerfed upon entry and need to be Bended back to its original capabilities, it will level up as the Master's Bending does. (Here's a better reference image than the one in the Wiki.)

As an aside, the mun has not heard all of the audios or read the comics mentioned in the Wikia article, so any mentions of them by other characters (i.e, Eighth Doctor) will be treated as memories that the madness caused by the drumming had obscured or damaged: valid and canon, just not present for him. He'll just need to be filled in like any other amnesiac.

Samples
Network:

Hullo, network. Me again. I know I said I was bored yesterday, but guess what?! BORED AGAIN.

I tried some of your kind suggestions from the other morning, of course. Whoever recommended reading the entire oeuvre of George R.R. Martin, thumbs up, that whole bit about the Red Wedding was the funniest thing I've read in years. Bit short, though, I was done by lunch. So I picked up a hobby. I couldn't decide between woodworking or macrame, so I made a large assortment of nets. They're all now electrified and hidden in various places around the Hedge Maze, because what's a maze without some traps to make it interesting? Really, you people need to learn how to live. That got me through to about, oh, let's see, four in the post-meridian, the P.M. Ha! P.M., it's funny, you see, because I - oh, never mind, half of you wouldn't get it and the other half would just scowwwwwwl at meeeeeeeee.

Where was I? ... Right, the nets. So after that there was dodgems with the Weeping Angels - I threw Tribbles at them, great stuff, especially since I was looking and they couldn't dodge. They're all covered in fluff by now, so you're welcome for the laugh. Then after that I ran out of list things and got bored again. Might've set something on fire. Pretty sure I did. I sort of spaced out at that point.

So now here we are, and I'm bored again. Please do try harder with the suggestions this time, or I might just have to find my own ways to entertain myself. You know, if we had Netflix this would be so much easier, and I could just binge The Simpsons...


Third Person:

Originally, the Master had been drawn to the Western quarter of the city: fire had always called to him, sung in his blood with all the ravages of war. He'd fully intended on setting himself up there ... but the sight of the Gallifreyan mountains hovering on the horizon, Solace and Solitude, had drawn him up short. Something about seeing them there, out of time, out of space, rankled him. His homeworld, a world built on the very concepts of time and space, cannibalized by a place with no regard to either: he'd been glad no one had been near to see his face.

You mean, glad the Doctor hadn't seen your eyes well up like an idiot, he thought to himself. It had been a few nanoseconds of weakness, that stab to the heart, before anger had swept in to protect him from the pain, sweet and familiar and safe. He turned his back on the mountains and had kept walking east, in the opposite direction, all the way up until his toes touched the sand and the ocean lapped his shoes. He sat down on the beach, not giving a fig for his trousers, and watched the waves roll in and out for a moment before closing his eyes.

The crash and swish of the water filled the terrible silence, pushing into all the nooks and crannies of his mind, the way the drums used to do. It was oddly comforting, and he took it as a balm to the fact that he couldn't feel the pull of any moon, the whirl and turn of the ground beneath him. He felt weightless, untethered, floating, despite knowing there was some sort of gravity at work. There were physics, but only shadows of them, nothing he could feel anymore, none of those subtle influences that had been part and parcel of his existence since birth. Coming here had stripped him of being a Time Lord, somehow: of what little he had left of home. How dare this place steal his mountains, on top of it all. His birthplace. Maybe he'd raze them to the ground. The thought brings a slow, almost serene smile to his face.

Yes. Yes, that was good. They belonged on Gallifrey, they belonged to time. They needed to be destroyed. But how to do it? The Master opened his eyes, reached out, and pushed a miniature dune up in the sand beside him to form one mountain. Then another, and another, until the range was writ miniature at his hip. A few grains slipped down even as he worked, and he chuckled, seeing his answer present in the few laws of science that still applied in this dimensional armpit.

He still wasn't sure what had brought him here, what had caused him to Wake. All he knew was that he was going to make it pay. One grain of sand at a time, if necessary. Even in a world without time, he still had plenty of it.