theredoesnotexist: (unwanted painting ekho)
Name: formerly Cel, now Alias. Cel was literally just the acronym of our full legal name and I didn’t want to be more associated with it than any of the rest of the system. But I liked it because it likens to cel shading. Alias has the same idea re: older cgi terms, but also a) has extra meanings that also really suit me, like an imposition to represent an idea! and B) is really funny as a name. Yeah my name is Alias. Yes it means Name.

Gender: i am not a human OR a person i am a thing
it/its ONLY. if you’re uncomfortable because it’s dehumanizing then good. that’s what I’m here for

Sexuality:generally romantic… nebulously, vaguely… i know that i am objectum (if it wasn't obvious) but romantic feelings toward real human people is something I greatly struggle to grasp. which doesn’t necessarily mean I’m aro. if anything in my mind it’s the opposite I wouldn’t be so confused if i didn’t feel anything. i’m so good at not feeling anything, it’s when feeling things comes into play that i start getting downright baffled

Archetropy: there is a facet of our wayvariant archetype we’ve dubbed “the enigma.” the familiarity of vagueness, the comfort of abstraction, a welcoming of the unknown and indecipherable. that’s me.
also re: the horror archetype i can be the horrors if no one else wants to. I know that interacting with me often starts to slope into the uncanny valley, and that I’m not personally afraid of it or experiencing any horrors because I live here and I’m quite comfortable thank you. but I’m not like a horror monster or villain or something. maybe just something that serves to freak the protagonists out before they encounter the real enemy; like a wandering spirit that speaks in riddles.
i'm being honest i plain ol' forgot we even HAVE a "reality warping/warper/warped" archetype-thing because that just IS what i AM. it isn't even a bulletpoint on a list i look at to remember for me. i forgot about it the way someone doesn't consciously register they're an organism that came from a fish and breathes air to be alive 24/7.

Species: in no way am i an animal. mostly all the objectkin sentiments, like I am the Casio calculator-synthesizer (Casio VL-80 if you were interested), the transistor radio, any time we see a technological instrument and go “wow me core” that’s me, etc… the main thing is that i am a clock, specifically a pocket watch, specifically a specific pocket watch and sort of a time machine. The Transversal character we made to be designed based on me, Fitz, is a wayward aimless schizotypal daydreaming dropout who finds out he is actually the soul of a magical ghost/artificial intelligence fitted to a vintage pocketwatch repurposed into a time machine in the 1970s, placed into a human body with no memory until 2020. So that’s sorta the basic idea actually. the character’s not LITERALLY what I am like Kalev or Quasar would say about theirs, but that is my vibe and then we made a character about it
i’m also conceptkin with early CGI. and i have little bit of the uncanny liminal space conceptkin energy that NOCH has but for me it’s not Scary House and brutalist architecture and kills you stuff, it’s like… you know, the real horror of being lost in the backrooms with a monster isn’t the monster or even the rooms, it’s the being lost
re-read Fishke's bio and realized i forgot to add what i see the body as which i guess is a decent representation of what i see it as. i don't. it's barely there to me. if asked whether i think of my physical body as organic i guess i'd say yes but you'd really have to stress the physical body part because that thing is not even in the same plane of existence that i'm chilling in

Fictional identity if any: Not really. We based a character off me, but it’s not like Kalev turned out, everything in common I have with the character is just stuff we took from me and gave him rather than any instance of the other way around

Heartedtypes: uuuh. mostly cephalopods but other soft-bodied marine invertebrates are so <3 I wouldn’t say i’m jellyfish hearted but I love all cnidarians and echinoderms also and cambrian critters and worms and tunicates and

Special interest: “Symbols codes and ciphers” section of the language store please. Symbolism with a linguistic application basically. Also would be nothing without my CGI history #mycgi

Music: my favorite artist of the system’s collective favorites i’d put as either I Don’t Know How But They Found Me or jack stauber. everyone keeps being surprised i like harder stuff like set it off and jim davies just because i’m the one who listens to jazz & electro-swing and 70s electronica and vaporwave and graham kartna but they forgot that the next thing on that list is king gizzard. can’t a clock contain multitudes? if it has a consistent beat i’m eating it anyway

Other preferences: my favorite game of the ones we’d list as our favorites is the stanley parable ultra deluxe. big on stuff like that, things that aren’t close to horror by any means but still can’t be separated from that eerie atmosphere of vague spatial wrongness. needless to say i’m of the many versions of my self whose favorite book is slaughterhouse-five. and obviously a huge kane pixels fan especially people still live here but can you blame me? I mean look at the stuff he does with graphics, the kid’s a wizard
do I need to say my favorite movie or is it obvious to anyone who knows how the whole system feels about Gate to the Mind’s Eye

Symptom presentation: I’m actually one of the less verbal headmates if i had to guess. we all have varying displays of being bad at talking and mine is more concretely in the fact that i can’t make my mouth do the things i’m asking it to. regardless of how much i actually want to be talking and know what i’m trying to say. I’m one of the more likely of us to start having paranoid spirals about our friends disliking us. I also know I’m one of the more visibly schizospec/cluster A headmates, I don’t need it pointed out, I’m aware… you can tell I wrote this entire thing out of order and didn't bother to make it comprehensible if read in order too
i have 100 alexithymias

Dress: right now as we speak i am wearing a white t-shirt decorated with colorful penrose triangles. it’s a real shirt and we got it at a thrift store. my favorite shirts of ours are the patterned button-downs and silly brightly colored patterned t-shirts and and the idkhow merch. i have a favorite mug that is an original 1980s ftda florists rainbow mug, we don’t drink from it due to the lead but it can never be replaced because i got it at an antique store for $8. fishke said i dress like bowling alley carpet well he ain’t even seen me strike yet

Why I exist: see here https://theredoesnotexist.dreamwidth.org/1833.html sender said it better than i could. I would obviously not call my self a fictive because in no way is my identity even influenced by fiction, but maybe introject would actually apply somewhere

fishke had a section for describing himself as a person and explaining his own personality and things of that nature. this is a luxury afforded only to the most cognitively aware and unscattered members of a system, which in our case is everybody except for me

Things of note: my symbol, 𝄌, is the musical notation symbol for coda, the movement of a piece that brings it to its conclusion.
That being said:

𝄌
theredoesnotexist: (categoricalist)
Alias: being a literal clock, able to pinpoint anything related to timing with so much more ease than the rest of us, and we think it formed/split during the second-to-last week of January, 2017. A little background on Alias before we go into this: it is a clock, like I said, more specifically a pocket watch, and it does not see itself as a human in any way; barely even a person. It doesn't hate itself, it's not self-loathing or anywhere near what null is like, but it has a constant air of empty melancholy, like a casual and peaceful attitude that, when peeled away, reveals a deep-seated depersonalization to the point of feeling discomfort at the idea of receiving sympathy. It is the only one out of all of us who can accurately measure and estimate the time in its head, and it does so with a shocking precision (once, when asked the time in the middle of a grocery trip, it said "I think it's about 8:27" and it was, in fact, exactly 8:27). It has a special affection for uncomfortable, disquieting spaces; backrooms fiction, strange liminal horror games, photographs that don't sit quite right, the basements of libraries at 1 AM.
We attempted in a pit of depression and spent 5 days in a hospital, and there is something to be said about the brain's ability to zero in on a minor, barely-significant annoyance in order to cope with the stress of something much greater shadowing it.
Picture this.
You're 16 years old in a psych ward. You didn't want to die because of a chemical imbalance, you wanted to die because you were immersed in an atmosphere of abuse and dehumanization from the authorities in your life. Your solace is music, the Internet, your favorite shows and your friends, but those aren't allowed. You can't go outside; you are confined to your room and one or two hallways of uncanny, inhospitable atmosphere. You aren't being treated like a person, and unlike your usual, familiar experience of that, you aren't even being treated like an animal or a child either—you're some kind of unthinking thing. You're being given medication and told that any complaints about life circumstances that can't be fixed are just dramatics, so you know there is no light at the end of this tunnel when you go home and nothing is better. None of this is helping.
But all you can think about, all that you're able to agonize over, is that at night, when you're lying in your room and you have no phone, no clock, and your window doesn't let you see the sky, is that you can't tell what time it is.
It's all you can care about anymore. Once they've locked your door just to stop you from leaving into the lobby every five minutes to check the clock, you can't even sleep. And there's nothing else to think about. Maybe they're right; you really are unthinking. You aren't a person. All you care about is the time.

Stranger: following the pattern, here's the necessary context on Stranger. Out of all of us, he would be the first to say that his presentation is specifically butch. He doesn't just affect masculinity, he wraps himself around it like it's a second heart that pumps his blood. But he isn't a human. He sees himself as a monster, a dark figure of a paranormal beastly nature looming in windows, something that any sensible person would balk at the sight of. He gets euphoria from someone saying "You startled me!" because he was too quiet for them to notice he was in the room, and from a sense of unease at how accurately he can mimic another person, as if it might have to come up later that his very appearance can't be trusted.
Now picture another scenario.
You are a pre-teen or perhaps young teen girl, let's say 12–14 years old, and your whole life, you have associated power with fear. The people who demand respect from you are the people who you are most afraid of and the demands which you cannot decline. You know that someone who is in control, who will deal with it, whoever is the person to go to for help, is the person you are also most terrified of.
You are also excruciatingly aware, even if you don't quite have the words for it, that you are at the age where your masculine affinities stop being a quirky tomboy thing, and start being a threat in the eyes of adults around you who endeavor to produce a good feminine woman. You are becoming disgusting. You are becoming something to be afraid of—but not in the same way as the people who raised you, no. You've always been lesser, so your growth into this grotesque thing isn't a growth into power, it's reprehensible. For someone who is following all the rules, being the source of fear is called authority. For someone who dares break them, being the source of fear is called monstrosity.
You are more like a creature from a horror movie than the hero who kills it.
And you are also at the age where you get your own iPod and your music taste starts to veer drastically off of the top 40.

🝯