(no subject)
May. 29th, 2015 08:31 amIF you're here and reading this, I presume you are not averse to spoilers.
IN CHARACTER
Name: Nux
Alias: none
Fandom: Mad Max Fury Road
Canon point/AU: they're halfway back along Fury Road, and he's told Capable to go ahead, he'll be right behind her.
Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiny_and_chrome
PB: Nicholas Hoult apparently
Age: ~19
History: Here's the wiki link
Presentation:
Nux is tall--6'3"--and looks like any other War Boy: pale, thin, hairless and shirtless, wearing the trousers and toolbelt of his kind. In his devotion to the Cult of the V8, he has a schematic of an engine scarified onto his chest. He has at least two tumors (which he's named Larry and Barry) on his throat, signs of what is possibly Hodgkins Lymphoma, trying to kill him. Nux is sick, requiring a transfusion of blood to keep going, and suffers from night sweats and fevers. This isn't uncommon of the War Boys, and is possibly why and how Joe uses them--offers sick young men a chance at some kind of a life. Nux has grasped that chance with both hands.
Immortan Joe likes to keep his War Boys ignorant. There is very little evidence the War Boys are literate, and they are definitely uneducated in things beyond cars--when Nux sees a tree, he has no word for it, and it's clear he's never even heard of the concept of a tree. (Comics canon shows that there is a special class of people--wordburgers--who can read and whose job it is to create and continue history. Nux has a brake pedal with his name on it, but being able to recognize one's name isn't quite the same as being able to tackle War and Peace. )
Nux managed to get into the Citadel as a child, thinking he was following his father, and never saw his parents again. He worked his way up, as they all do, except Joe's own sons, from Repair Boy through lancer to driver. As a Black Thumb repair boy, he can repair any car or truck engine, even on the move, as long as he has his tools. That's pretty much all he's known his whole short life, which is extended by transfusions from 'blood bags'--captives kept by the Citadel to provide healthy blood for transfusion.
Nux has worked his way up from mechanic to driver--one of the higher ranks--and he is not willing to let his lancer take that from him. His highest goal, throughout his life, is to die for some greater purpose. He is a true believer, and one of the highest moments in his life is when he thinks that Immortan Joe, the War Boys' living god, looked right at him.
Motivations:
Nux is desperate for approval. All War Boys believe in the death cult crafted by Immortan Joe: if they die in battle, especially if their bravery is witnessed by others, they will ride eternally in Valhalla, alongside their living god. He puts no value on his life other than that, until Immortan Joe rejects him, judging his stumble as 'mediocre'.
He is eager--in his excitement that Immortan Joe even looked at him, in his enthusiastic helping of Max against Furiosa, in cutting his chain to use the Rig's winch to pull them to safety, once he has decided on a side, he does everything he can to help, even for meager rewards like a steering wheel or a nice word, sort of like a puppy dog...of death.
Joe's dismissive criticism devastates Nux, but when Capable, the red-haired Wife of Joe, comes across him hiding in the back of the War Rig, her compassion offers him a new source of approval, one willing and sympathetic. He works to earn the trust of the others, using his expertise and skills to help the others return to the Citadel, and eventually giving his own life for the dream of the future, after whispering/wishing that Capable 'witness' his sacrifice.
He is fearless about death--War Boys begin their road experience hanging on the front of a vehicle, to spit guzzoline into the intakes to boost the engine's power. You don't survive that and have any fear of speed or death. His only fear is that he dies for no reason and doesn't get the glorious reward he wishes he's meant for. Fear of death, no. Fear of purposelessness, yes.
Setting:
Nux has never seen a city like the Capitol. He's seen the lower caves of the Citadel, and the wastelands around it and between the Bullet Farm and GasTown. His world is a strange one, with gasoline and weaponry, but very little 'technology' and only a primitive medicine. A lot of the luxuries of the city will, frankly, blow his mind.
Violence is part of his world, so killing to survive won't faze him, but the idea of it being sport, without the participants' having chosen it, will be strange to him. He may have heard of places like Bartertown (Miller himself states that canon-wise this happens after Beyond Thunderdome). and things like its Thunderdome, but he's never experienced violence as anything other than a source of survival, honor, and glory.
His beliefs that if he dies well, he awakes in Valhalla will cause him to fight hard and recklessly in Arenas, and to be entirely baffled when he wakes up...not in Valhalla. His self-sacrificing nature means that if he makes friends, he will do stupid things to save them like throw himself into harm's way.
He could easily be seduced into aiding the rebels, and he does have some skills they could use--his driving and repair abilities.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread:
For Tributes: You have just been killed in your first Arena. It was violent, messy, and unexpected. And just as suddenly you wake back up in a very cold, very medical room. After a few moments of silence, a voice comes up over the speakers.
"Please use the device to the right to record your current feeling on your loss. Once you are finished, someone will be along to take you back to the Capitol." On cue, a small recording device starts to chirp at your side.
It is quite clear that you will be staying in the room until you make that recording.
[He jerks awake, at the voice, coming from the little box. It's not a voice he knows--not Capable's softness, or Immortan Joe's gravelly orders. But he knows the note of command. Nux rolls to one side, with a grunt. Everything hurt, but that was nothing new, really. Everything always hurt. ]
I. This isn't Valhalla. [A slow blink, looking around, taking in the room. It was cold. It was dark. It was..empty. This wasn't Valhalla, the eternal ride of glory he'd been promised.] What didn't I do? What didn't I DO?!
[It must be something. Maybe the Immortan has shut the gates against him permanently. Three times, they'd been opened for Nux. Three times, he'd failed. Maybe that was it. Maybe this was it, this was the punishment he deserved.]
Give me a chance! Give me another chance!
[He doesn't know who he's talking to, but they must be powerful. They must be able to help.]
Prose:
You have been set in a room in front of the Gamemakers to be judged on a score of one to twelve, with one being the lowest and twelve being the highest. The Gamemakers sit safely behind a force field and watch, and you are provided with an array of weapons and targets, though no gun to be seen.
If you are a new Tribute, you have been plucked from home and rushed in here with only a brief explanation of what is going on: You are about to enter an Arena death match that only one person will make it out of, and impressing these people will help you live.
Nux was still confused--just a few minutes ago, felt like, he was on the Fury Road, back in the canyons, foot jammed down hard on the accelerator, using what he knew, which was vehicles, engines, power. Now, though. Now, he found it a fight to pay that much attention to the people talking to him--not their words, at any rate--because there was just so much to take in. Starting with the whole idea of an indoor space not like rough-cut rock and grilles of steel, a space with right angles, square corners: the kind of precision you only saw in a good engine, one that had lasted from the before time, its lines heavy and solid and clean. Built to last, they called them. This place looked built to last.
The adrenaline from the road was coagulating, thick and sluggish, in him, as they push him into the room. Another room, clean-engineered-like, solid and square. He can feel people watching, sure they're just out there beyond the glare of the lights, and finally, some of the words they'd been pushing at him before seep through his brain.
A fight. A fight to the death, and he'd need a weapon.
One thing he'd learned in the Citadel was that anything can be a weapon. A car, a proper lance, a wrench, a length of chain. Anything that gave you reach or distance or a sharp edge.
He glanced, nervously, trying to see behind the lights, at whoever's watching him, then at the table, filled with knives, and other stuff he couldn't figure out, before grabbing a pair of bolt cutters, turning them over in his grimy hands: case-hardened steel, long levers. Yeah. You could do a lot of damage with these. And that length of chain--he snatched that up, too, waiting for someone to call him on it, tell him he could only take one. Simple stuff, yeah, maybe. No flashy bombs or long lances. But simple doesn't break.
What is your character scored:
9. Nux has seen enough combat to actually have become elevated from lancer to driver--his body bears enough scars to prove it. He's resourceful, high adrenaline, and doesn't fear injury or death. However, he does have a debilitating disease that can weaken him over the duration of a long Arena, if he doesn't get medical care/blood transfusions. It wouldn't kill him, but it would slow his reflexes and reaction time. But even so, he's a fighter till the end.
Token:
The steering wheel from the War Rig. Wheels are symbols of power among the War Boys, of those who have earned the right and the rank to drive. This wheel is in his hands when he is taken to Panem, and the thing he looks down at after Capable makes her escape. So, yeah, it's kind of emotional. (If that's too big, it can be scaled down and pin-ified, just let me know!)
IN CHARACTER
Name: Nux
Alias: none
Fandom: Mad Max Fury Road
Canon point/AU: they're halfway back along Fury Road, and he's told Capable to go ahead, he'll be right behind her.
Journal:
shiny_and_chromePB: Nicholas Hoult apparently
Age: ~19
History: Here's the wiki link
Presentation:
Nux is tall--6'3"--and looks like any other War Boy: pale, thin, hairless and shirtless, wearing the trousers and toolbelt of his kind. In his devotion to the Cult of the V8, he has a schematic of an engine scarified onto his chest. He has at least two tumors (which he's named Larry and Barry) on his throat, signs of what is possibly Hodgkins Lymphoma, trying to kill him. Nux is sick, requiring a transfusion of blood to keep going, and suffers from night sweats and fevers. This isn't uncommon of the War Boys, and is possibly why and how Joe uses them--offers sick young men a chance at some kind of a life. Nux has grasped that chance with both hands.
Immortan Joe likes to keep his War Boys ignorant. There is very little evidence the War Boys are literate, and they are definitely uneducated in things beyond cars--when Nux sees a tree, he has no word for it, and it's clear he's never even heard of the concept of a tree. (Comics canon shows that there is a special class of people--wordburgers--who can read and whose job it is to create and continue history. Nux has a brake pedal with his name on it, but being able to recognize one's name isn't quite the same as being able to tackle War and Peace. )
Nux managed to get into the Citadel as a child, thinking he was following his father, and never saw his parents again. He worked his way up, as they all do, except Joe's own sons, from Repair Boy through lancer to driver. As a Black Thumb repair boy, he can repair any car or truck engine, even on the move, as long as he has his tools. That's pretty much all he's known his whole short life, which is extended by transfusions from 'blood bags'--captives kept by the Citadel to provide healthy blood for transfusion.
Nux has worked his way up from mechanic to driver--one of the higher ranks--and he is not willing to let his lancer take that from him. His highest goal, throughout his life, is to die for some greater purpose. He is a true believer, and one of the highest moments in his life is when he thinks that Immortan Joe, the War Boys' living god, looked right at him.
Motivations:
Nux is desperate for approval. All War Boys believe in the death cult crafted by Immortan Joe: if they die in battle, especially if their bravery is witnessed by others, they will ride eternally in Valhalla, alongside their living god. He puts no value on his life other than that, until Immortan Joe rejects him, judging his stumble as 'mediocre'.
He is eager--in his excitement that Immortan Joe even looked at him, in his enthusiastic helping of Max against Furiosa, in cutting his chain to use the Rig's winch to pull them to safety, once he has decided on a side, he does everything he can to help, even for meager rewards like a steering wheel or a nice word, sort of like a puppy dog...of death.
Joe's dismissive criticism devastates Nux, but when Capable, the red-haired Wife of Joe, comes across him hiding in the back of the War Rig, her compassion offers him a new source of approval, one willing and sympathetic. He works to earn the trust of the others, using his expertise and skills to help the others return to the Citadel, and eventually giving his own life for the dream of the future, after whispering/wishing that Capable 'witness' his sacrifice.
He is fearless about death--War Boys begin their road experience hanging on the front of a vehicle, to spit guzzoline into the intakes to boost the engine's power. You don't survive that and have any fear of speed or death. His only fear is that he dies for no reason and doesn't get the glorious reward he wishes he's meant for. Fear of death, no. Fear of purposelessness, yes.
Setting:
Nux has never seen a city like the Capitol. He's seen the lower caves of the Citadel, and the wastelands around it and between the Bullet Farm and GasTown. His world is a strange one, with gasoline and weaponry, but very little 'technology' and only a primitive medicine. A lot of the luxuries of the city will, frankly, blow his mind.
Violence is part of his world, so killing to survive won't faze him, but the idea of it being sport, without the participants' having chosen it, will be strange to him. He may have heard of places like Bartertown (Miller himself states that canon-wise this happens after Beyond Thunderdome). and things like its Thunderdome, but he's never experienced violence as anything other than a source of survival, honor, and glory.
His beliefs that if he dies well, he awakes in Valhalla will cause him to fight hard and recklessly in Arenas, and to be entirely baffled when he wakes up...not in Valhalla. His self-sacrificing nature means that if he makes friends, he will do stupid things to save them like throw himself into harm's way.
He could easily be seduced into aiding the rebels, and he does have some skills they could use--his driving and repair abilities.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread:
For Tributes: You have just been killed in your first Arena. It was violent, messy, and unexpected. And just as suddenly you wake back up in a very cold, very medical room. After a few moments of silence, a voice comes up over the speakers.
"Please use the device to the right to record your current feeling on your loss. Once you are finished, someone will be along to take you back to the Capitol." On cue, a small recording device starts to chirp at your side.
It is quite clear that you will be staying in the room until you make that recording.
[He jerks awake, at the voice, coming from the little box. It's not a voice he knows--not Capable's softness, or Immortan Joe's gravelly orders. But he knows the note of command. Nux rolls to one side, with a grunt. Everything hurt, but that was nothing new, really. Everything always hurt. ]
I. This isn't Valhalla. [A slow blink, looking around, taking in the room. It was cold. It was dark. It was..empty. This wasn't Valhalla, the eternal ride of glory he'd been promised.] What didn't I do? What didn't I DO?!
[It must be something. Maybe the Immortan has shut the gates against him permanently. Three times, they'd been opened for Nux. Three times, he'd failed. Maybe that was it. Maybe this was it, this was the punishment he deserved.]
Give me a chance! Give me another chance!
[He doesn't know who he's talking to, but they must be powerful. They must be able to help.]
Prose:
You have been set in a room in front of the Gamemakers to be judged on a score of one to twelve, with one being the lowest and twelve being the highest. The Gamemakers sit safely behind a force field and watch, and you are provided with an array of weapons and targets, though no gun to be seen.
If you are a new Tribute, you have been plucked from home and rushed in here with only a brief explanation of what is going on: You are about to enter an Arena death match that only one person will make it out of, and impressing these people will help you live.
Nux was still confused--just a few minutes ago, felt like, he was on the Fury Road, back in the canyons, foot jammed down hard on the accelerator, using what he knew, which was vehicles, engines, power. Now, though. Now, he found it a fight to pay that much attention to the people talking to him--not their words, at any rate--because there was just so much to take in. Starting with the whole idea of an indoor space not like rough-cut rock and grilles of steel, a space with right angles, square corners: the kind of precision you only saw in a good engine, one that had lasted from the before time, its lines heavy and solid and clean. Built to last, they called them. This place looked built to last.
The adrenaline from the road was coagulating, thick and sluggish, in him, as they push him into the room. Another room, clean-engineered-like, solid and square. He can feel people watching, sure they're just out there beyond the glare of the lights, and finally, some of the words they'd been pushing at him before seep through his brain.
A fight. A fight to the death, and he'd need a weapon.
One thing he'd learned in the Citadel was that anything can be a weapon. A car, a proper lance, a wrench, a length of chain. Anything that gave you reach or distance or a sharp edge.
He glanced, nervously, trying to see behind the lights, at whoever's watching him, then at the table, filled with knives, and other stuff he couldn't figure out, before grabbing a pair of bolt cutters, turning them over in his grimy hands: case-hardened steel, long levers. Yeah. You could do a lot of damage with these. And that length of chain--he snatched that up, too, waiting for someone to call him on it, tell him he could only take one. Simple stuff, yeah, maybe. No flashy bombs or long lances. But simple doesn't break.
What is your character scored:
9. Nux has seen enough combat to actually have become elevated from lancer to driver--his body bears enough scars to prove it. He's resourceful, high adrenaline, and doesn't fear injury or death. However, he does have a debilitating disease that can weaken him over the duration of a long Arena, if he doesn't get medical care/blood transfusions. It wouldn't kill him, but it would slow his reflexes and reaction time. But even so, he's a fighter till the end.
Token:
The steering wheel from the War Rig. Wheels are symbols of power among the War Boys, of those who have earned the right and the rank to drive. This wheel is in his hands when he is taken to Panem, and the thing he looks down at after Capable makes her escape. So, yeah, it's kind of emotional. (If that's too big, it can be scaled down and pin-ified, just let me know!)
