Character Name: Malcolm Q. Lacey
(Born Nate Christopher Morris)
Age: 37 (at the moment)
Height: 6’ 1”
Weight: 208 lb.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Brown/Gray
Skin: Moderate
Former Occupation: Paranormal Journalist
Physical Description: Malcolm holds himself with a proud manner and an air of dignified grace. He has a long, chisled jaw, currently decorated with 'stylish stubbles.' His nose is long and straight, as is his mouth. Needless to say, he's got a wonderful poker face, which he wears 24/7. His eyes are very dark, and difficult to read. He's spent his entire life hiding who he really was.
His hair is brown, with very much gray finding its way in. He happens to like the way the gray compliments his looks. It offers a mature, sophisticated effect, making him a more believable liar.
He wears casual, three-piece suits, usually, colors ranging from dark blue, to gray, to black. In his current occupation, he's also turned to dark browns. Always complimenting these suits is a long, thin black tie.
Overall, Malcolm bears the look of a charming man, who has found a way to carry the look of aging quite well.
He will often flash a dazzling smile while modestly claiming that it was simply nature that gifted him with such devilishly good looks, in return for his being such a kind soul.
Character Personality: Malcolm changes personalities just as much as he changes names, but certain things stay true.
He is a charmer. He loves to use his charismatic features to rope in unsuspecting prey. He will swindle money from wealthy young ladies, but most of the time, he does it all for the thrill of the game.
As such, he is always one for a challenge. Any opportunity is one that he will go for. And he always expects to win.
Malcolm has a respect for art, and the artists that created it. He will always go out of his way to appreciate a true work of art, and its master.
Character Background: Nate Christopher Morris grew up in his parents’ home, but was mostly raised by his grandmother. His parents worked full-time jobs, and his father's mother took it upon herself to home school him, and teach him the ways of a gentleman that his father had forgotten.
He was not from a particularly wealthy family at all. But his grandmother had come from one, and would often reminisce on the splendor and grandiose that came with being 'noble.'
What entranced Nate more than the wealth and fancy parties were the ideals that came with being a gentleman. The grace, the charm, the nobility. He would play the part well, too. His grandmother took him along for many years to parties that she held with her old friends, from back in the day. He adored to play this role, but somewhere inside him, he knew it wasn't true. At this time, he was about sixteen years old. He was just now learning of the horrors of money, and of debt, and his family was deep in it. He wasn't a gentleman! He wasn't a well-respected man of great wealth and charity! He was Nate Morris, son of James and Nancy Morris, middle-class citizen of Charlotte, North Carolina. He had no talents, no skills, no future.
"No more!" Another year later, Nate moved out of his home, with the promise that he would make a name for himself, several names if he had to! He would forever abandon the persona of Nate Morris.
It was on this day that he took on the name Edmund Chaucer, the first of many names, the first of many lives he would inhabit.
Edmund found a job in a New York restaurant on Broadway, in New York City. It was the perfect place to survey people, in all their faces and kinds, races and languages. Here he observed. He learned snippits of Spanish, Russian, Chinese, among others. He adapted the accents, the mannerisms, studied their physical features.
He also spoke to the people. He talked to many experienced businessmen, and was able to make a couple of smart investments. He also learned a bit about the business world, and just how to establish yourself there.
With his little, but substantial earnings, he took himself to a little corporation, and worked himself into their system, starting as a flunkee for a lower board member. Now he was Dominic Verticelli. He was a smooth operator, good with words, and better with the ladies. He impressed a lot of the older, experienced men, and was able to work his way up the ladder.
But, at 22, Dominic was done with this facade. It had become too easy.
So, with now a much more sizable bank account, he launched himself again into the world.
He was Scott Riddell, working as a fashion consultant at a big model agency.
He was Sir Lawerence Addock, a professional bachelor, fresh from the English military, charmer of young ladies.
He was anyone he wished to be. With a bit of research, he was able to infiltrate any level of society. Be anyone. Do anything.
He went through occupations and women as one goes through toilet paper.
Every new name brought new challenges, new thrills.
But, eventually, the thrills began to fade.
It was all too easy. He had three houses, five cars, and too many girlfriends to count.
He needed a new challenge. Something that took a little more than outstanding charisma and a rather large wallet.
He chose journalism.
It took something else to be a writer. And not only that, in journalism, he'd be spreading his words on a much larger scale. Now, he could twist any story, and make it true. He'd use his charm and grace with words, (and his money) to get the words he wanted out of others. Sure, people were hurt, but this was all part of the game. The game that he would always win.
Now, at 33, Charles Archer was a head writer for a large selling magazine, situated in Milwaukee.
He had quite an amount of success, and could now truly enjoy the parties, holding a name that he had come to believe he was so much more than Nate Morris. His family was forgotten. His grandmother was now all that was left in his memories of home. He would think of her, wherever she'd ended up, and how proud she must be of his accomplishments.
"I've done it, Grandmother. I'm one of them now."
And somehow, it still wasn't enough.
There was something so simple about taking an every day story and making it true by his word alone. Something as commonplace as a murder, or a government scandal was not good enough for Charles.
Onward once more he would have to push himself.
The attraction of the written story was still there, though.
There had to be something he could write about that few believed, and yet, he would make them believe... even if he didn't believe it himself.
It was then that he took on one of his final facades. He took the face of Alastair Q. Saint-Sanson, writer for ParaVision, a paranormal magazine, exposing the unexplainable for the world to view and... laugh at.
But, not any more. Alastair was determined now to make these stories seem true. The most cynical man would be jumping off a bridge after Alastair Q. Saint-Sanson told him Bigfoot was real.
It was all a game to him.
And he would win again.
How does your Character get to/why was your character chosen for the Island? Malcolm, in his latest facade of Alastair Q. Saint-Sanson, met a lively young chap named Lucas Wickham. He was young, enthusiastic, and somehow inspiring to Alastair. Lucas was also a paranormal writer. Alastair took the opportunity to learn about the field he was launching himself into from this hapless, trusting boy. He would chat with him frequently at the restaurant where Lucas worked, feeding off his information to fuel his own success.
It was only through Lucas, and his pure, unassuming person, that he ever felt any real remorse, or the shadow of it, for the things he’d done. This feeling, of course, was quickly shaken off. But all the same, he’d become quite attached to Lucas.
And then, Lucas disappeared.
What Serum do you want?: Normal, Meerkat
Describe your ideal 100% appearance: The only things that would allow anyone to realize that Malcolm was once human are his capability to shape some expression with his face, and his abnormal height, as far as meerkats go. Also, he retains a little goatee and mustache amidst the fur.
Why this animal/plant for your character?: I suppose the decision was mostly based on the way a meerkat looks. The look seemed to fit his smarmy kind of character. Perhaps this perception was mostly due to the character Timon from the Lion King. It seems every time I hear Malcolm speak, I hear Nathan Lane’s melodious voice.
What do you think really makes this concept? This character is a pure basketful of fun. Lucas knows him as Alastair, and he will no doubt introduce himself as a few other things to the other Islanders, as his fancy sees fit. Comedy and confusion, especially comedic confusion, are great elements in a story.
He is also flexible, allowing lots of room for play with a large number of the other players.
He also has lots of room for development, as these extreme conditions will make him begin to question just what a life he had. He’d done some terrible things without thinking about the reprisals, or how his lies had affected other people.
