New Character Analysis for Mug

Name: Mug

Age: 800 years

Occupation: (forgotten) God of Wisdom

Aim: To be worshiped and remembered.

Obvious characteristics: Self-centered, confused, forgotten, ignored. Stuck in the hunger to retain lost glory and dignity, to be worshipped again. Now powerless.

Background: I came to the earth as people of that time sought to find solace in life. People searched for wisdom as they flocked to the temples which at that time were high as the moon, the stars. People looked up to me, prayed to me, worshipped me. I was God. This all happened about 800 years ago when the world was still apart. When the gods didn't cross paths. I was God. The people fed me and I was what they lived for. I gave back. I imparted many pieces of advice and precautions to my worshippers. Then came these people from the west. People I've never seen before. People with skin which's colour was so sickly I wanted to comfort them and give them shelter. At first, they were students. People studying our ways, our life. People who studied me. Then they became teachers, then destroyers. They preached against me. Pointed fingers at me. Set fires on me. The land was no longer united and everything was crumbling. Before I knew it, the temples were desecrated. My treasures looted. Pillars were shattered. The foundations were gone. The people were separated. I fled. I crumbled. Here I am.

Regret: My one regret was that I let it slip from my hands. The power and glory I once had is now but a distant memory. The only prayers that come in come from schools. Exam halls. Youngsters searching for answers. Endlessly seeking. Yet it is knowledge they find. There is no wisdom. I regret letting wisdom die. Here in purgatory, I try to instill the wisdom into the people here. As I crumble further, I hope my final days will be fruitful, like the fig tree in the garden. If I can make at least one person feel wisdom for once again, and if I can make people worship the value of wisdom, I would be back. And I wouldnt crumble. Rather than being a wind-up toy people only use when they need to.

Realisation: I realise that perhaps I should just let go if it all. I'm not going to get my life of a God back. Maybe I'll make a bigger difference as a man.

Disability: As stated above, I need to be wound up. As I move, I lose control over parts of myself. I crumble. My movements are stacato, like all my joints are rusted and need a large amount of energy and force to move them. I use my walking stick as a means of getting around, having already lost the function of my left foot. As I diminish in importance and my usefulness dies, I become more and more dead. Until the next person winds me up, I'll forever be asleep.