Charles Foster Offdensen

Character: Charles Foster Offdensen
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Character Notes:
History: ((Absolutely NOTHING is given in canon about Charles' life before managing Dethklok ... so I've built up a pretty substantial headcanon based on the things we do see of his personal life and his personality, and in keeping with the general tone of the show in regards to family and home lives vs. life in the music industry, and how the two interact. There's a rundown of all of that headcanon here if you're interested, but basically, suffice it to say that managing the band is not just Charles' big break, but his True Calling.))

Several pentuple-platinum albums, thousands of sold-out concerts, and trillions of dollars in official merchandising surround the heavy metal band Dethklok. They are not only the most popular band in the world, but its greatest source of economic prosperity. Dethklok's roadies and other innumerable, vastly varied staff make up a substantial percentage of the world's workforce. If the band fails, the world fails. Unfortunately, its five members are the most socially inept, ignorant, self-absorbed jackoffs in the history of socially inept, ignorant, self-absorbed jackoffs.

Fortunately, their manager is anything but, and has somehow had the know-how, the sense, and the stability to keep every single blood-red plate spinning in the air since day one. Everyone knows Dethklok, but not many know Charles Foster Offdensen, unless they're in the underside of the industry... and those who do know him will tell you he's one hell of a man. Some say it with awe, some say it with jealousy, some say it with fear... but all say it with respect. It seems like Dethklok have been around forever, even if they've only reigned from their metal throne for the better part of a decade now ... but if Charles has his way, they'll be around as long as they can play music. And he intends to make sure that that ability has a very, very long shelf-life.

Personality:
How The Band Sees Charles: Emotionless robot dildo who always tells them what to do and doesn't let them spend any money or do anything cool but occasionally pals around with them so they guess it's okay.

How Charles Presents Himself To The Band: No, really, guys, you need to focus and get some records made so the world doesn't fall into ruin. You would think you'd understand that the world depends on you by now. You would think you'd get how important this -- no. No he does not think a fountain that spews Code Red Mountain Dew is a good idea. He'd really like you to stay on topic here. Boys. Let's go. Come on. Seriously. You're hopeless. Sigh.

How Charles Really Thinks Of The Band: They are the Black Klok. They are the last hope of civilization, foretold throughout the centuries. Their power can save or doom billions. They are everything. They are all. They are to be defended at all costs, by any means necessary, and he is their first line of defense. He is their champion, their protector, their compass, and their rock. If they cannot fail, he MUST not. He must always - always - be there for them when it matters. If the others are the Gears, he is the Mainspring - the piece that stays tightly wound, perfectly aligned and poised to keep it all running smoothly and promptly. And the black Gods help him, he loves them all like his motherfucking family.

Charles Minus The Band: At first glance, it doesn't look like there's much - because for the most part, he truly has devoted his entire life to Dethklok. But there are vestiges of his personal life, even at their citadel at Mordhaus. He makes small talk with record executives, other managers, and professionals in the business. Behind closed doors, he talks the talk and walks the walk like any other schmoozer. He touts golf courses, appreciates fine cigars and brandy, collects lamps, and is .... a self-confessed Huey Lewis fan. Past a point, though, it's hard to tell whether Charles was a perfect fit for Dethklok, or he simply grew into them all. He enjoys subtly trolling the band, quietly taking advantage of their naivete in ways that don't outright harm them. Go ahead, ask him about the time he got them all wound up over an embezzler, only to tell them later that it was ... them. Or the time they pitched the most inefficient, horribly conceived mobile phone model and plan to him while they were all drunk, and he went ahead and had five of them made and connected to a party line, so the band could suffer through their own terrible idea. When the band treats him like dirt, that's the sort of thing he does to take the edge off.

And then, of course, there's the fact that it's quite possible he's just shy of batshit insane. Take the legal end of things: Charles helped orchestrate a VERY stringent copyright policy for Dethklok's songs, to ensure that they hold on to as many royalties as possible. Anyone caught illegally downloading their music or otherwise pirating Dethklok property is caught by strategic task forces, brought to an extensive underground dungeon beneath Mordhaus, and tortured. Horribly. Charles also organizes the defense force that keeps Dethklok safe from rabid fans, government assaults, and most importantly, the shady mechanations of a secret organization known mainly as The Tribunal, and a group of jaded ex-fans called The Revengencers. These defense forces are nothing short of a well-trained army, and Charles kits them out with advanced weaponry and technology that put the world's governments to shame. He wades right into the thick of it with the rest of them without so much as batting an eye or wrinkling his suit. Death, dismemberment, and other horrible disgusting words beginning with D don't even faze him - it's all part of the job description. And never mind that on at least one occasion, he's seen taking a personal hand in the punishment and torture of some of Dethklok's adversaries ... with relish, to boot. Once he's behind the boardroom table, however, that violent side gets tightly locked away, and you'd never know it existed to look at him.

Other:

"That's my bread and butter you're fucking with."

Charles is, to put it bluntly, one badass motherfucker. He's a cutthroat - not just in the business room. He'll literally cut you if you come between him and his band, and he's pretty much invincible. The man was thrown from the top floor of a hospital and landed on his feet like a cat. He's been left for dead - even pronounced as such - and somehow come back in one piece a few months later, with no explanation and not a word about it all. He's an expert swordsman - fencing, in particular - and can hold more than his own in hand-to-hand combat and knife fighting. He's also a crack shot with a gun, though most of the time it seems he prefers to get his hands dirty rather than shoot.

This is headcanon, but a little poking around the series of tubes has shown me it's pretty much fanon, as well: Charles is the voice of Facebones, Dethklok's animated mascot, as seen in videos released for their fanclub and employee instruction seminars. Facebones is pretty much a parody of Mickey Mouse: he speaks in a falsetto and starts out every broadcast with "HEY, FOLKS! IT'S ME! FAAAACEBOOOOONES!" Facebones' videos are generally informational in nature: a tour of Mordhaus, tips for Employee Safety, ways to avoid sexual harassment in the workplace, and so on and so forth. They're Charles' way of poking fun at conventional How-To and Public Service Announcement videos, since he peppers them all with Surprise Disturbing Content and occasionally lapses into muttering swears and insults at the viewers. Expect at least one of these videos to show up in the community at one point.

In a very connected vein: Metalocalypse has an on-again, off-again habit of "bleeping" out characters' swears with distorted guitar riffs. I'm going to be exercising this quirk with Charles from time to time, in accordance with the Rule of Funny.

Additional Links:
(None of these are SFW, by the way. Pretty much none of this canon is.)
HEY FOLKS IT'S FACEBOOOONES
Charles re: what he does. (SPOILERS.)


First Person (entry type): [the feed turns on to show Charles polishing off a bottle of water, sitting in his desk chair, a majestic mountain backdrop visible outside the picture window of his office. he's speaking to someone off-screen]

Yeah, that - those look good. I like the piping along the sides, that was a nice touch. Why don't we get the first run out by next week, see how they do. Maybe do a limited edition with ivory in it. Thanks.

[he turns his attention back to his laptop, aaand--] Oh. Hello, again. I was just giving my go-ahead on one of the boys' next merchandising endeavours. I'd tell you what it is, but - then I'd have to kill you. Heh-heh. [the chuckle sounds genuine enough, but he stays completely straight-faced] So. What have you all been up to, mm? Good to keep my finger on the pulse, as it were. Know what's going ...

[a loud crash, offscreen. and a bloodcurdling scream]

... on. Out there. [AHEM] Oh, and uh, let's all cross our fingers that there aren't any viruses on the horizon, shall we? I've got a meeting with Roy at Crystal Mountain Records on Friday afternoon, and I'd hate to show up to that as a ring-tailed lemur or something ridiculous like that. Okay? Great. Keep me posted.

Third Person: It wasn't often, Charles thought, that he got an evening to himself. But after the mess the boys had gotten themselves into, he figured he could let them stew in it for a little while while the Klokateers went through their usual damage control gamut. They were all well-trained for concert fallout such as this - even if the summoning of an ancient lake troll wasn't exactly covered in the PowerPoints. He set the bath in his hotel room to draw, then padded out to the room in his hotel bathrobe and drew back the curtains, contemplating the panorama of Finland stretched out in front of them. It was picturesque, even with the forests at the outskirts of town on fire, and he cracked open the hotel bar to fix himself a drink.

"Just a few hours," he mumbled to himself, pouring a nip bottle into a glass and swirling the amber liquor, watching it cling briefly to the sides. "Kick back, take a moment. Get it all in order."

It was all he needed, now - a few moments here and there, small things, snatches of luxury or normality to balance out the insanity that came with managing five of the most ignorant man-children he's ever known. He hadn't necessarily known since Day One that it was all about the band: but even before he discovered the Church, he had a feeling. Those first scratchy, crappy little demos Nathan recorded in his garage unearthed something he'd buried long ago, and dragged up something else along with it - there was power in the music, power and something deeper. The sort of something that could summon lake trolls.

Fucking lake trolls. God, this was either going to be a PR nightmare or just the sort of boost they'd need between albums. Knocking back the first sip of his drink, Charles moved back in to check on his bath. If he could just have the night to think about it all, plan it out, figure out how to spin it - they'd be golden. Maybe he'd even have a little time to watch the crappy hotel cable before he crashed for the night.

That was, of course, when the riots started downtown, and some panicked Finn ran into a telephone pole, plunging his plush hotel suite into darkness.

"... Well, ****."