"Oh! Mornin' Halen!" It's his usual pleasant greeting that chirps from the back of the bakery line as he spots the younger man entering. "You got an early day too?" He's dressed for more walking than work, his usual graphic tee underneath a wild-printed button-up from behind the counter or in the office at the Fun Palace discarded for a sweater and heavy wool coat most certainly meant to chase off the winter cold. "Have some pickups to make across town but ah, nobody to drive me, so I'm just gonna catch a taxi or an uber over there after I grab some breakfast and see if I'm gonna need more than Mimi and her fuckin' Kia to get it moved back to the boardwalk.- But it's not every day somebody offers you a giant plasma ball for the price of 'get it out of my son's old man cave' yanno?" He sends a quick text to his sister- then tucks his phone away, focus now entirely on the conversation.
"Oh right, I think we're gonna have to push game night back a weekend- Mimi's on a tear about the murder on campus, so we've got a whole... 'suspect board' taking up the dining room table at the house- I meant to text ya about it, but then I got really invested in the plasma ball..."
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Where: Greenview Fun Palace
Who: Wren @crwnofthcrns
"You know I'm supposed to be closing soon- I already had most of the extra staff go home that wasn't important for the blacklight bowl thing I said the high school band could use the place for tonight- which I mean, is probably why you're here now, now that I say it out loud, because you're like, really good at turning up when next to nobody else is here, making me question if maybe you're like... a figment of my imagination." It's almost worth asking Tilt how he knows the person who's triggered the bell above the door is Wren of all people, when he's halfway buried in the underside of an arcade cabinet, until the mirror posted above the row of games quickly answers any curiosity to his potential clairvoyance.
"How's it hangin', Birdgirl? Any hot gossip from this realm or beyond?" He scoots out from where he'd been working, sitting up with a groan and writing a note on the pad nearby for the maintenance staff. Looks like a burned out motherboard. I'll order a new one off eBay this week- just keep it Out of Order. -T.W. "I swear, I've got gremlins or something- every few days at least one of these things goes on the fritz."
Mama doesn't call // Sister never writes // Bet you they would laugh If I called to say goodbye // No ones gonna worry // Notice when I'm gone // No they won't know I'm missin' // 'Till they pull me out the Mystic.
Name: Anthony Mickey Ward
Nicknames: Tony, Ant, Though most everyone calls him Tilt, these days.
Age: 35, DOB: 7/14/1989
FC: Spencer Charnas
Gender/Sexuality: Cis Man [He/Him], Bisexual
Occupation: Owner and regular operator of Greenview's Fun Palace
Residency: A small home in town he shares with his twin sister, Mimi Ward.
Positive Traits: Friendly, Welcoming, Fun-Loving
Negative Traits: Scatterbrained, Short-Tempered, Childish
Relationship Status: Single [One Confirmed Chem Test, semi-open]
Skeleton: OC
Aesthetics: The colors and bright lights of an innocence lost then recaptured, the Arcade is home, but the machines are old and worn- he can never go back, not really, the blood on his hands stains buttons and while his teeth are blunted and he is muzzled there are people who remember what he used to be, razor-sharp and deadly, motor oil and rich, well-worn leather flying a flag of loyalty. There’s no cross on the bend outside of town where the bike crashed, but something died out there that day. The physical injuries are minimal, now, but his mind has never quite been the same- maybe the peppy chiptunes are as much a prison as gunfire and rumbling engines. Maybe he’ll never know.
HISTORY
Bostonian transplant when he and his sister were ten, they were present in town and old enough to remember what happened to Duncan Farley, only a year after their arrival. He had his own theories about what happened, but he was a child- he never spoke or acted on them.
Fell in with a rougher crowd in his late teens and early 20s, familial loyalty to a local biker gang led to Tilt becoming a runner and mechanic at only 15, initially just to get himself out of the trailer park they’d moved into.
He flourished in the art of violence and misleading others, and from 19 to 27, he was a prominent member of the gang, regularly running drugs and guns and building an impressive rap sheet until a bike accident late one night on a twisted, rain-slicked backroad nearly took his life.
After a couple years of recovery, largely only supported by his twin sister, after their single father’s death, Tilt found himself capable enough to reintegrate into society- but no longer the ferocious young man he had once been. He took a job at the Fun Palace as the mechanic, somewhere he adored from his youth, and put his general technical skills to good use keeping everything running- so well that when the owner retired when Tilt was 29, he was offered the opportunity to take over and buy the place out.
He spends most of his time now at the Fun Palace, and has a near-encyclopedic knowledge about arcade machines from the 80s to present day, and despite still requiring the presence of a carer in his day-to-day because of periodic seizures, Tilt Ward has quickly become a well-loved member of the boardwalk’s ‘regulars’.
Incredibly jovial with a kind word for everyone, Tilt is also a regular handyman, willing to use his technical and mechanical knowledge to fix things up for others, like cameras, TVs, Cars, and old equipment.
He doesn't talk much about his past as a biker, as many of those memories were lost in his accident, including much of the way he used to pressure, extort, and threaten the people of Greenview in the name of his former crew.
He has an open door policy for the young folks around town to come by the Ward place for anything- dinner, a couch to crash on, or a listening ear, and with his memory issues and general inability to really muster up judgement, many college students tend to take him up on this.
He has a quick alert button on his person at all time that notifies his sister Amelia and a handful of other trusted parties when he thinks he feels a seizure coming on, and this has allowed him to live somewhat free of a constant handler.
