Name: Lars Memminger

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Appearance: One can tell that Lars used to be something impressive - key phrase being "used to be". He's a moderately tall fellow at around 6'1", with stretch marks adorning his torso like trophies. Formerly handsome muscles are atrophying all about his body. On top of a wide set of shoulders sits a face. This face is old, dying. Wrinkles have already begun to set, and the dull green eyes are almost always set with tiredness, a look of some incomprehensible, quiet despair. Dirty blonde hair is fading to a dull grey, a fate which Lars' stubbly beard has already met. His body is well built, being slightly healthier than most American bodies. His skin is tanned, with faint wrinkles appearing here and there. Overall, Lars is exactly the type who you'd expect to see sitting along and hunched over in a bar, which incidentally, is how he spends many of his nights. 

Occupation: Lars is retired, having made a large sum of money in his early life and never having to spend it on children or a partner. He used to be a biochemist working for a pharmaceutical company, but decided to leave this in his mid-thirties in order to move, "somewhere boring and quiet," as he put it.

Personality: Lars is grumpy. There isn't much more to be said for his surface personality, he's simply a grumpy old man. This is how he chooses to portray himself, as it minimizes the contact that he has to endure with "the filthy plebeians". At heart, Lars is a different type of grumpy than what he puts forth. Rather than being a perpetually annoyed, though without much reason, he has learned over the course of his life a simple truth: people are terrible. This does not exclude anyone, and it certainly does not exclude himself. Even the people who he considered friends are somehow tainted by this thought, and he frequently points out even the most superficial of flaws in a person simply because he can. This has also led to a bit of a superiority complex, in that between his belief that everyone is terrible [i]and [/i]with his great scientific knowledge, he speaks to everyone in a manner that frequently doesn't make sense, and becomes irritated when they don't understand. Much of this stems from the hyperactive multitasker that Lars had been, and the consequences of disillusioning something so fragile. All in all, Lars is best defined by his frustration. Frustration for not being understood. Frustration with the folly of man. And now, frustration that the world is going to end before the next weekly happy-hour.

History: Lars was born unto a set of wealthy, loving parents. It was these two, charismatic individuals that over and over told him that he could do anything with his life if he just tried hard enough, that inevitably drove him to success. A drive was built inside of him, one which pushed him to discover new things, to seek more knowledge than anybody else. He succeeded, and for a while, it was good. Oxyenterothyline. Some anti... something drug. He doesn't even remember. All that matters is that people liked it, and it got him a good bit of money. It was around this time that Lars' mother began to develop cancer. He worked night and day, attempting to help in the development of some sort of... anything which would be able to help. In doing so, he ended up being at work when his mother died. At first, naturally, he was distraught. However, over time, he has begun to laugh, seeing "the beauty of irony" in it. His father has since fallen prey to a similar strain of cancer, but by this time Lars had lost any semblance of compassion for the man. He attended the funeral only so as to take advantage of the free food and wine. He's since stopped working and moved to a small town on the outskirts of society, where he enjoys relatively uninterrupted peace in a simple life. Upon discovering the end of the world, at first, he scoffed. "Nonsense". But, as evidence began to mount against him, he simply started grunting, fairly nonchalant about the whole affair. 

"Maybe this is just the universe's way of giving me an easy way to die. I've lived a full life, got to hit all the milestones. Made some money. Retired. Saw good people die. And now, I'm out of ideas. So alright, universe, let's go. Hit me."

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If you don't like the character, feel free to let me know and I'll gladly change it.