ＴＰＩｎｄｕｓｔｒｉｅｓ ✈ Trevor Philips (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mooseontheloose) wrote2015-02-27 07:43 pm
mooseontheloose) wrote2015-02-27 07:43 pm
Entry tags:
MONAD.EXE | APPLICATION
OOC Information
IC Information
IC Information
Name: Trevor Philips
Canon: Grand Theft Auto 5
Gender: Male
Age: Late 40's, he was probably born around 1965, dies late 2013/early 2014
History: a summary of GTA V's story trevor's wiki! Trevor will be pulled from after Ending C
Personality:
Trevor Philips considers himself to be a shining paragon of loyalty to personal values and the man upon which the image of quintessential American heartland is built. This is all entirely true, considering how deeply fucked up Trevor's "personal values" are and by how loyally he sticks to them, and also if you consider a gun-running drug-dealing overly-violent sex-crazed Canadian redneck meth head to be quintessential America (it isn't called the melting pot for nothing is it?). In his own words, he "grew up in five states, two countries, fourteen different homes, eight fathers, three care homes, two correctional facilities, one beautiful, damaged flower of a mother," and came out better for it - a man who relies on his own ingenuity and willpower to solve problems and build business, even if said business is dealing in illegal merchandise.
First and foremost Trevor considers himself "real" - he abhors hypocrisy and what he perceives as "fakeness," pretending to be something other than what you are. For Trevor, being himself is impulsive pedal to the metal at all times behavior, not a care about the future attitude and unlikeliness to bathe on a regular schedule, but considers all of this to be excusable due to his honesty with himself. He makes no apologies for his own behavior, and makes little effort to appease societal standards he doesn't give a flying fuck about (absolutely including the law). For all of his bluster about staying true to himself and his morals, he's as much of a hypocrite as anyone he accuses: with all of his bravado and smoke blowing about how great he is, he's a depressed, self-involved attention craver with a need for physical affection or at least several goonies to heap praise on his rather deflated ego. Even immediately upon condemning the world for being narcissistic, he gets angry when the conversation turns to something other than himself, and when damning the evils of sarcasm he gets extremely sarcastic. This makes sense to Trevor, considering he's right and everyone else is entirely wrong. He's also got a weird thing about bigotry, taking great offense to what he perceives as unjust behavior - when one of his lackeys refers to a woman as a bitch, Trevor accuses him of disrespecting women, and is actually slightly remorseful about working for a pair of racist bigots for $500 (he copes with this remorse by murdering them. Justice is served.)
He's actually a pretty bitter guy, willing to take on any and all challenges and challengers with gusto and unafraid to "cross a suicidal line" when it comes to his crimes, and only very rarely forming close relationships with anyone. It isn't necessarily that he isn't afraid of anything, it's more that he seems to not consider his own well-being important at all, even vaguely mentioning feeling extremely depressed occasionally. Coming from a childhood of abuse and neglect certainly didn't help, but even his attempt to escape the life course set out for him by joining the air force was cut short when he was forcibly grounded due to psychiatric evaluation. The growing distaste and vitriol for the world at large and a fate meeting with his best friend/worst enemy Michael Townley led a young Trevor Philips down a darker path to larger and larger crimes. In his own words, Michael "lacked the nerve, and I lacked the direction," and the two tore up the 80's and 90's in a crime spree that made them the FIB's (Federal Investigation Bureau/FBI for GTA da dum tish) most wanted by 2004. Eventually this culminated in the (faked, unbeknownst to Trevor for 9 years) death of Michael - making his eventual destination at violent redneck meth head with a death wish not all that surprising. For nearly 5 decades he's found nothing but disappointment in anything he considered a loved one, though through the events of the game he eventually manages to reconcile with Michael despite his perceived betrayal - which isn't to say Trevor ever stops heaping verbal abuses on him (along with everyone else in his life), but apparently its how he shows he cares.
For all the times the other characters accuse him of aggression and thuggery being his only skills, it isn't really quite true - he can be charismatic and persuasive enough to the right people, and absolutely knows how to to single someone out as a target. Two of his current workers at "Trevor Philips Industries/Enterprises/Incorporated" (the name has yet to be quite determined) are pretty weak-willed guys that happened to get caught in his scheme: he intentionally isolates them and preys on their insecurities to ensure their loyalty. Ron's overwhelming paranoia won over, when his marriage was on the rocks due to his conspiracy hunting, Trevor swooped in and took over his life, including the trailer home he has in Sandy Shores; and shy, slightly stupid Wade's friends "abandoned" (read: Trevor killed them for some unknown offense) him in Sandy Shores, where Trevor decided to take him under his wing. Even Chef, the meth cook of the operation, who comes off as a relatively put together guy who knows how to handle a gunfight, has a strange loyalty to Trevor and apparently even went through a form of Trevor-esque job interview that ended in someone getting dismembered and that's just not even something to get worried about to him. He's also pretty snappy in a crisis, extremely good at evading law enforcement, survivor of a decades long crime run and ... talented drug dealer - even helping Franklin and his friend Lamar figure out the cocaine they were being sold was actually a brick of dry wall on the back (YOU CAN'T HUSTLE A HUSTLER). He's also extremely good at surviving a full-blown firefight, and taking the strategic sniping position on more than one heist - armed with an RPG in several instances but still it pretty effectively clears a room.
Calling Trevor's temper "hair trigger" is honestly being generous - he's wildly unpredictable in what's going to set him off on a given day, often reacting with extremely overreactionary rage to the slightest provocation and in the same five minutes be completely unfazed by something actually deserving of frothing anger. That said, he does have his hot button issues: insulting his mother (or implying, uh, relations), and pointing out his accent (barely noticeable), both of which will send him into a nearly immediate rage. Also: hipsters, but who doesn't hate those assholes. He generally pretends to show absolutely no remorse for killing in most instances, and though cold, it often isn't exactly calculated death - he tends to lash out in anger when he's stressed out, taking out of the target of his anger quickly and without mercy. There's a couple of instances you see him kill someone just for pissing him off or running into him at the wrong time, including in the first 2 minutes of gameplay as him when he stomps a guy to death. He actually expresses once or twice that he's afraid of his own tendencies to snap, admitting that he at least does recognize some of his own issues. That said, he's able to control himself under the right circumstances and he's certainly able to work in a team environment - he's worked for years in crews on heists, manages his own little "gang" that respect him (or at least fear him enough) to listen to whatever he demands, and its shown he worked for at least a few years dealing meth and selling guns in conjunction with several others powers-that-be - the motorcycle gang the Lost, as well as the cartel - in Blaine County before a stressor caused him to flip the fuck out (the discovery that Michael was alive, and the accompanying realization of a long dead best friend's betrayal will do that to a guy). As the game gets the main characters involved in working jobs to help corrupt government offices, Michael even questions why Trevor is obeying the orders of authorities - he replies that he'll do anything as long as it keeps him entertained, which seems to be pretty damn true considering some of the weird shit you do in side-missions.
Despite the (really really long) list of faults (that should never be forgotten) he is exactly one thing he claims he is: loyal. Once he's dedicated himself to something, it's hard to steer him off of a path he's chosen, and even harder to dislodge him from a person he's attached to. He manages to still be friends (frenemies) with a guy that stole millions from him - though to Trevor it's never really about the money - and almost got him killed by the government several times. He barks a lot about not caring if Michael lives or dies, but saves his life more than once and even spouts the classic "if anyone kills you, it's gonna be me" crap on him. He also falls deeply in weird, oedipal chaste love with the older wife of a mob boss he kidnaps. Once she is ransomed back to her husband (and he returns her to her home, crying the entire time), he spends the rest of the game pining for her, sending legitimately distraught messages back and forth. Really, it's a relationship that puts the married guy's to shame if Stockholm Syndrome counts for anything. It's strange, this game is real fucking strange.
He's also pretty capable of empathy, and he's certainly not emotionless - as Michael quips, he's extremely sensitive and gets his feelings hurt really easily. Trevor claims to be a pretty mellow guy, with an extremely, extremely low tolerance for lies and bullshit - and there's a lot of lies and bullshit in the world. He's also capable of forming close friendships, though there's no accounting for taste in those who would want to be friends with him. Throughout the game he grows pretty close to the third protagonist, Franklin, and there's more than one quip about how he and Michael are like his "dads" - and he clearly takes his fatherly guidance duty seriously (Franklin for his part argues he could probably find way better dads than an alcoholic and a speedfreak but who is he to judge). He's also pretty fond of Michael's kids, apparently having sworn to protect them when they were little, and they both call him Uncle and he seems to legitimately care a lot about their welfare (and they're happy to see him in return). He's all about dispensing useful advice - most of it about how they should probably switch from weed to meth because "you get shit done." Good advice for anyone.
Powers/Abilities:
Rampage/Special Skill: The game functionally treats this as a "power," but really it's just Trevor's ability to use his rage to cause more damage/take more bullets, which is probably just as easily explained as he's high as a fucking kite approximately all of the time and running on adrenaline.
Weapons/Melee Expertise: That said, he's able to handle a huge variety of different weapons with skill and accuracy: pistols, rifles, grenade launchers, a handheld minigun, explosives, an RPG launcher, a baseball bat and the power of his own fists which can apparently just straight up punch through a car window (ow???). He's pretty used to fighting, but he's absolutely not above sucker punches and nut kicks - in fact, he's not really going to fuck around with any sort of non-dirty fighting, because what's the point IT IS NO FUN AT ALL.
Flight School: Trevor's main skill is really his flying ability, originally military trained - he's extremely talented at flying just about anything that can get off the ground and is in regular practice - he's also pretty damn quick to pick up new machines. If it flies (and hopefully shoots at the same time), he's into it. Probably in all senses of "into it." He is a truly terrible driver, but believes he is probably the greatest motorist of all time.
Various Criminal Skills?? Who even knows what to call this exactly but T is a highly experienced bank robber and dealer of various vices, which kind of comes with its own set of skills (not necessarily people ones). He's able to plan and pull off heists successfully (sort of, it usually tends to backfire on him, but that's really not the fault of his talents and more about how successfully stealing a nuke isn't a GREAT idea), and is extremely knowledgeable about gun-running and drug-dealing and stealing shit. He's also apparently "good with numbers," able to quickly calculate prices and exchange rates in his head.
Keepsakes/Mementos: - It is probably too big, but his truck the Canis Bodhi is about his only truly personal possession. The stains on the seat are permanent.
-A statue of cartoon superhero Impotent Rage. It is broken in half. It is a worthless piece of plastic shit.
- a wallet full of nothing but 1 dollar bills, a worn out of picture of a naked chick, a State of North Yankton driver's license for some dude that is definitely not Trevor Philips and a pilot's license for a dude who might have once been Trevor Philips with more hair (it expired in 1986)
- a Facade cellphone, containing hours worth of really nervous and ramble-y messages from a guy called Ron, a few texts from Michael and Franklin, and emails from Jimmy, Michael's son.
- Of course, he owns practically an armory, so any weaponry heavy or light
-and his drug paraphernalia (he does run a meth lab), he mostly takes speed aka meth, claiming other drugs "interfere"
Sample:
"Listen, Ron, now we've got capital, we've got to start expanding the brand. You know, really making this shit go global. TPI International." For all of the Alamo Sea's drawbacks (slightly irradiated water, dust storms, rampant rednecks) it was good to be back home, where he belonged. Or at least, where the people who actually listened to him belonged - said lackey squirmed as Trevor rounds again in his pacing circle.
"E-expand, Trevor? I thought you were, you know, retiring?" Ron almost seems to regret it as he says it, the word retire dying with a short, sad sound as Trevor stops mid-step to nearly slam him ass-first into the dirt.
"Retire? You think I'm ever going to fucking retire? Fuck no, that is for assholes and lazy goddamn fat pieces of shit, you think those billionaires sitting in their goddamn penthouse offices in that fake titty city got there by giving up when the going got good? Hell no, Ron, they fucking didn't!" He stops himself before he gets too far - hands clenching and unclenching. God he needs a hit of something to deal with these morons.
He wasn't a billionaire, of course, only a multi-millionaire (or as they had so eloquently coined it: "gold-rich") - but who would want to be a billionaire? It was obvious there was a line between the merely successful and the fat, lazy, bored decadence of a man who never had to worry about anything but his next adrenaline rush, and the industrious man. The guy who kept working hard for his next dollar, the next piece of the market, who didn't sit back on his ever-expanding ass and watch upstart assholes outpace him in his own field. He breathes out, long and low, heading for the porch of his trailer - Ron skittering not far behind and still muttering apologies for his misspoken words.
"The point is - I'm investing. Hell, it's practically charity, I'm pouring money into local businesses, who in turn funnel their goods through our channels. It's fucking perfect. Push out the competition, a good old fashioned American Monopoly."
"Yeah, of course, T! Investing! You've got the right idea, we've got to grow. Expand, even?"
"Shut the fuck up, Ron-- You don't know shit about business!"
"Shit! You're right, T, I'm sorry, I don't know shit about business."
"Damn right you don't know shit about business. Here." Trevor tosses him a wad of cash - he doesn't know how much, he doesn't really bother to count anymore - rolling his eyes as Ron scrambles to try and pick it all up. "Go get something printed. Marketing shit. T-shirts, some pens, magnets or whatever--"
"But, boss--" Trevor doesn't let him finish, shoving him out of the door.
"But boss, but boss, but fucking nothing, just go fucking do it! Christ, how many times do I have to explain this crap to you?" With that, Ron jogs off, hopefully to do as told. All things said, Trevor himself likely won't remember this in the morning. He never does.
He growls an unintelligible noise to himself as he hunts down the stained pipe - where he left it on the couch - and the real prize: a beat up ziploc bag. It's high quality shit or so Ron says. At least being wealthy has its benefits. It turns out, Ron isn't lying, he barely feels it when he passes out.
". . . Boss?" Ron hesitantly knocks.
For once, there is no response. Trevor Philips Industries will need a new CEO on Monday.
Mindset: Trevor will remember his death, and be duly disappointed by how lackluster it is. It didn't contain a single explosion or mid-air plane crash, and frankly, that is not how he expected to go out. It won't slow down his drug habit in the slightest, since apparently it doesn't matter anymore. He's not really one to panic at new situations or unexpected turns of life (or death), and will probably end up taking it in stride (being super high will help him cope).
He does seem to have some sense of an afterlife, or at least he expects some comeuppance for his crimes, mentioning a couple of times how he's definitely going to hell or plans to torment Michael for eternity together in their eventual hell-reunion. So ending up some place that isn't on fire or filled with demons is something of a surprise, but it isn't really going to phase him too much, considering he's probably not even sure what he expected, and he's certainly not religious in any other sense. Apparently, this is a second chance to build his drug/gun empire though, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
G̶̶l̨͡i̵͢t̷c͝͠h̕é͠s̷̷͡:
- of all the "sins" he despises, he hates the idea of betrayal - and is extremely upset at even the implication that someone might be talking badly behind his back. When he's undercut or backstabbed in any way he takes it extremely personally, but of course he's most haunted by Michael's faked death 10 years ago - he's even got a memorial tattoo of the guy and the jerk was never dead..
- He's an emotional dude, and constantly lets those emotions (mostly rage) take over, and is actually pretty acutely aware of his anger problems, even admitting once or twice that it scares hims a bit when he loses control complete - admitting he could have hurt a trusted friend if he let himself. In line with this, he's definitely depressed - after taking drugs or huffing gas he'll sometimes wake up rambling about his self hatred.
- Of course, there's the Mother Issues. He's rendered completely helpless by her and gives in to her every demand (even if she's probably a hallucination, it's implied she's been in prison for years with no chance of release).
- the more jokey options are pretty easy too, he hates being accused of being Canadian (which he is), and abhors hipsters (which he gets accused of being the proto-hipster. the hipster to come before all hipsters. an ur-hipster. because of his extreme anarchist views and violent reaction to popular media, and inclination to live in a horrible fucking desert in a "corrugated metal death shack" to experience "the real America").
-Also he HATES CLOWNS. Clowns are the fucking worst. He doesn't understand what they find so goddamn funny all the time.
Canon: Grand Theft Auto 5
Gender: Male
Age: Late 40's, he was probably born around 1965, dies late 2013/early 2014
History: a summary of GTA V's story trevor's wiki! Trevor will be pulled from after Ending C
Personality:
Trevor Philips considers himself to be a shining paragon of loyalty to personal values and the man upon which the image of quintessential American heartland is built. This is all entirely true, considering how deeply fucked up Trevor's "personal values" are and by how loyally he sticks to them, and also if you consider a gun-running drug-dealing overly-violent sex-crazed Canadian redneck meth head to be quintessential America (it isn't called the melting pot for nothing is it?). In his own words, he "grew up in five states, two countries, fourteen different homes, eight fathers, three care homes, two correctional facilities, one beautiful, damaged flower of a mother," and came out better for it - a man who relies on his own ingenuity and willpower to solve problems and build business, even if said business is dealing in illegal merchandise.
First and foremost Trevor considers himself "real" - he abhors hypocrisy and what he perceives as "fakeness," pretending to be something other than what you are. For Trevor, being himself is impulsive pedal to the metal at all times behavior, not a care about the future attitude and unlikeliness to bathe on a regular schedule, but considers all of this to be excusable due to his honesty with himself. He makes no apologies for his own behavior, and makes little effort to appease societal standards he doesn't give a flying fuck about (absolutely including the law). For all of his bluster about staying true to himself and his morals, he's as much of a hypocrite as anyone he accuses: with all of his bravado and smoke blowing about how great he is, he's a depressed, self-involved attention craver with a need for physical affection or at least several goonies to heap praise on his rather deflated ego. Even immediately upon condemning the world for being narcissistic, he gets angry when the conversation turns to something other than himself, and when damning the evils of sarcasm he gets extremely sarcastic. This makes sense to Trevor, considering he's right and everyone else is entirely wrong. He's also got a weird thing about bigotry, taking great offense to what he perceives as unjust behavior - when one of his lackeys refers to a woman as a bitch, Trevor accuses him of disrespecting women, and is actually slightly remorseful about working for a pair of racist bigots for $500 (he copes with this remorse by murdering them. Justice is served.)
He's actually a pretty bitter guy, willing to take on any and all challenges and challengers with gusto and unafraid to "cross a suicidal line" when it comes to his crimes, and only very rarely forming close relationships with anyone. It isn't necessarily that he isn't afraid of anything, it's more that he seems to not consider his own well-being important at all, even vaguely mentioning feeling extremely depressed occasionally. Coming from a childhood of abuse and neglect certainly didn't help, but even his attempt to escape the life course set out for him by joining the air force was cut short when he was forcibly grounded due to psychiatric evaluation. The growing distaste and vitriol for the world at large and a fate meeting with his best friend/worst enemy Michael Townley led a young Trevor Philips down a darker path to larger and larger crimes. In his own words, Michael "lacked the nerve, and I lacked the direction," and the two tore up the 80's and 90's in a crime spree that made them the FIB's (Federal Investigation Bureau/FBI for GTA da dum tish) most wanted by 2004. Eventually this culminated in the (faked, unbeknownst to Trevor for 9 years) death of Michael - making his eventual destination at violent redneck meth head with a death wish not all that surprising. For nearly 5 decades he's found nothing but disappointment in anything he considered a loved one, though through the events of the game he eventually manages to reconcile with Michael despite his perceived betrayal - which isn't to say Trevor ever stops heaping verbal abuses on him (along with everyone else in his life), but apparently its how he shows he cares.
For all the times the other characters accuse him of aggression and thuggery being his only skills, it isn't really quite true - he can be charismatic and persuasive enough to the right people, and absolutely knows how to to single someone out as a target. Two of his current workers at "Trevor Philips Industries/Enterprises/Incorporated" (the name has yet to be quite determined) are pretty weak-willed guys that happened to get caught in his scheme: he intentionally isolates them and preys on their insecurities to ensure their loyalty. Ron's overwhelming paranoia won over, when his marriage was on the rocks due to his conspiracy hunting, Trevor swooped in and took over his life, including the trailer home he has in Sandy Shores; and shy, slightly stupid Wade's friends "abandoned" (read: Trevor killed them for some unknown offense) him in Sandy Shores, where Trevor decided to take him under his wing. Even Chef, the meth cook of the operation, who comes off as a relatively put together guy who knows how to handle a gunfight, has a strange loyalty to Trevor and apparently even went through a form of Trevor-esque job interview that ended in someone getting dismembered and that's just not even something to get worried about to him. He's also pretty snappy in a crisis, extremely good at evading law enforcement, survivor of a decades long crime run and ... talented drug dealer - even helping Franklin and his friend Lamar figure out the cocaine they were being sold was actually a brick of dry wall on the back (YOU CAN'T HUSTLE A HUSTLER). He's also extremely good at surviving a full-blown firefight, and taking the strategic sniping position on more than one heist - armed with an RPG in several instances but still it pretty effectively clears a room.
Calling Trevor's temper "hair trigger" is honestly being generous - he's wildly unpredictable in what's going to set him off on a given day, often reacting with extremely overreactionary rage to the slightest provocation and in the same five minutes be completely unfazed by something actually deserving of frothing anger. That said, he does have his hot button issues: insulting his mother (or implying, uh, relations), and pointing out his accent (barely noticeable), both of which will send him into a nearly immediate rage. Also: hipsters, but who doesn't hate those assholes. He generally pretends to show absolutely no remorse for killing in most instances, and though cold, it often isn't exactly calculated death - he tends to lash out in anger when he's stressed out, taking out of the target of his anger quickly and without mercy. There's a couple of instances you see him kill someone just for pissing him off or running into him at the wrong time, including in the first 2 minutes of gameplay as him when he stomps a guy to death. He actually expresses once or twice that he's afraid of his own tendencies to snap, admitting that he at least does recognize some of his own issues. That said, he's able to control himself under the right circumstances and he's certainly able to work in a team environment - he's worked for years in crews on heists, manages his own little "gang" that respect him (or at least fear him enough) to listen to whatever he demands, and its shown he worked for at least a few years dealing meth and selling guns in conjunction with several others powers-that-be - the motorcycle gang the Lost, as well as the cartel - in Blaine County before a stressor caused him to flip the fuck out (the discovery that Michael was alive, and the accompanying realization of a long dead best friend's betrayal will do that to a guy). As the game gets the main characters involved in working jobs to help corrupt government offices, Michael even questions why Trevor is obeying the orders of authorities - he replies that he'll do anything as long as it keeps him entertained, which seems to be pretty damn true considering some of the weird shit you do in side-missions.
Despite the (really really long) list of faults (that should never be forgotten) he is exactly one thing he claims he is: loyal. Once he's dedicated himself to something, it's hard to steer him off of a path he's chosen, and even harder to dislodge him from a person he's attached to. He manages to still be friends (frenemies) with a guy that stole millions from him - though to Trevor it's never really about the money - and almost got him killed by the government several times. He barks a lot about not caring if Michael lives or dies, but saves his life more than once and even spouts the classic "if anyone kills you, it's gonna be me" crap on him. He also falls deeply in weird, oedipal chaste love with the older wife of a mob boss he kidnaps. Once she is ransomed back to her husband (and he returns her to her home, crying the entire time), he spends the rest of the game pining for her, sending legitimately distraught messages back and forth. Really, it's a relationship that puts the married guy's to shame if Stockholm Syndrome counts for anything. It's strange, this game is real fucking strange.
He's also pretty capable of empathy, and he's certainly not emotionless - as Michael quips, he's extremely sensitive and gets his feelings hurt really easily. Trevor claims to be a pretty mellow guy, with an extremely, extremely low tolerance for lies and bullshit - and there's a lot of lies and bullshit in the world. He's also capable of forming close friendships, though there's no accounting for taste in those who would want to be friends with him. Throughout the game he grows pretty close to the third protagonist, Franklin, and there's more than one quip about how he and Michael are like his "dads" - and he clearly takes his fatherly guidance duty seriously (Franklin for his part argues he could probably find way better dads than an alcoholic and a speedfreak but who is he to judge). He's also pretty fond of Michael's kids, apparently having sworn to protect them when they were little, and they both call him Uncle and he seems to legitimately care a lot about their welfare (and they're happy to see him in return). He's all about dispensing useful advice - most of it about how they should probably switch from weed to meth because "you get shit done." Good advice for anyone.
Powers/Abilities:
Rampage/Special Skill: The game functionally treats this as a "power," but really it's just Trevor's ability to use his rage to cause more damage/take more bullets, which is probably just as easily explained as he's high as a fucking kite approximately all of the time and running on adrenaline.
Weapons/Melee Expertise: That said, he's able to handle a huge variety of different weapons with skill and accuracy: pistols, rifles, grenade launchers, a handheld minigun, explosives, an RPG launcher, a baseball bat and the power of his own fists which can apparently just straight up punch through a car window (ow???). He's pretty used to fighting, but he's absolutely not above sucker punches and nut kicks - in fact, he's not really going to fuck around with any sort of non-dirty fighting, because what's the point IT IS NO FUN AT ALL.
Flight School: Trevor's main skill is really his flying ability, originally military trained - he's extremely talented at flying just about anything that can get off the ground and is in regular practice - he's also pretty damn quick to pick up new machines. If it flies (and hopefully shoots at the same time), he's into it. Probably in all senses of "into it." He is a truly terrible driver, but believes he is probably the greatest motorist of all time.
Various Criminal Skills?? Who even knows what to call this exactly but T is a highly experienced bank robber and dealer of various vices, which kind of comes with its own set of skills (not necessarily people ones). He's able to plan and pull off heists successfully (sort of, it usually tends to backfire on him, but that's really not the fault of his talents and more about how successfully stealing a nuke isn't a GREAT idea), and is extremely knowledgeable about gun-running and drug-dealing and stealing shit. He's also apparently "good with numbers," able to quickly calculate prices and exchange rates in his head.
Keepsakes/Mementos: - It is probably too big, but his truck the Canis Bodhi is about his only truly personal possession. The stains on the seat are permanent.
-A statue of cartoon superhero Impotent Rage. It is broken in half. It is a worthless piece of plastic shit.
- a wallet full of nothing but 1 dollar bills, a worn out of picture of a naked chick, a State of North Yankton driver's license for some dude that is definitely not Trevor Philips and a pilot's license for a dude who might have once been Trevor Philips with more hair (it expired in 1986)
- a Facade cellphone, containing hours worth of really nervous and ramble-y messages from a guy called Ron, a few texts from Michael and Franklin, and emails from Jimmy, Michael's son.
- Of course, he owns practically an armory, so any weaponry heavy or light
-and his drug paraphernalia (he does run a meth lab), he mostly takes speed aka meth, claiming other drugs "interfere"
Sample:
"Listen, Ron, now we've got capital, we've got to start expanding the brand. You know, really making this shit go global. TPI International." For all of the Alamo Sea's drawbacks (slightly irradiated water, dust storms, rampant rednecks) it was good to be back home, where he belonged. Or at least, where the people who actually listened to him belonged - said lackey squirmed as Trevor rounds again in his pacing circle.
"E-expand, Trevor? I thought you were, you know, retiring?" Ron almost seems to regret it as he says it, the word retire dying with a short, sad sound as Trevor stops mid-step to nearly slam him ass-first into the dirt.
"Retire? You think I'm ever going to fucking retire? Fuck no, that is for assholes and lazy goddamn fat pieces of shit, you think those billionaires sitting in their goddamn penthouse offices in that fake titty city got there by giving up when the going got good? Hell no, Ron, they fucking didn't!" He stops himself before he gets too far - hands clenching and unclenching. God he needs a hit of something to deal with these morons.
He wasn't a billionaire, of course, only a multi-millionaire (or as they had so eloquently coined it: "gold-rich") - but who would want to be a billionaire? It was obvious there was a line between the merely successful and the fat, lazy, bored decadence of a man who never had to worry about anything but his next adrenaline rush, and the industrious man. The guy who kept working hard for his next dollar, the next piece of the market, who didn't sit back on his ever-expanding ass and watch upstart assholes outpace him in his own field. He breathes out, long and low, heading for the porch of his trailer - Ron skittering not far behind and still muttering apologies for his misspoken words.
"The point is - I'm investing. Hell, it's practically charity, I'm pouring money into local businesses, who in turn funnel their goods through our channels. It's fucking perfect. Push out the competition, a good old fashioned American Monopoly."
"Yeah, of course, T! Investing! You've got the right idea, we've got to grow. Expand, even?"
"Shut the fuck up, Ron-- You don't know shit about business!"
"Shit! You're right, T, I'm sorry, I don't know shit about business."
"Damn right you don't know shit about business. Here." Trevor tosses him a wad of cash - he doesn't know how much, he doesn't really bother to count anymore - rolling his eyes as Ron scrambles to try and pick it all up. "Go get something printed. Marketing shit. T-shirts, some pens, magnets or whatever--"
"But, boss--" Trevor doesn't let him finish, shoving him out of the door.
"But boss, but boss, but fucking nothing, just go fucking do it! Christ, how many times do I have to explain this crap to you?" With that, Ron jogs off, hopefully to do as told. All things said, Trevor himself likely won't remember this in the morning. He never does.
He growls an unintelligible noise to himself as he hunts down the stained pipe - where he left it on the couch - and the real prize: a beat up ziploc bag. It's high quality shit or so Ron says. At least being wealthy has its benefits. It turns out, Ron isn't lying, he barely feels it when he passes out.
". . . Boss?" Ron hesitantly knocks.
For once, there is no response. Trevor Philips Industries will need a new CEO on Monday.
Mindset: Trevor will remember his death, and be duly disappointed by how lackluster it is. It didn't contain a single explosion or mid-air plane crash, and frankly, that is not how he expected to go out. It won't slow down his drug habit in the slightest, since apparently it doesn't matter anymore. He's not really one to panic at new situations or unexpected turns of life (or death), and will probably end up taking it in stride (being super high will help him cope).
He does seem to have some sense of an afterlife, or at least he expects some comeuppance for his crimes, mentioning a couple of times how he's definitely going to hell or plans to torment Michael for eternity together in their eventual hell-reunion. So ending up some place that isn't on fire or filled with demons is something of a surprise, but it isn't really going to phase him too much, considering he's probably not even sure what he expected, and he's certainly not religious in any other sense. Apparently, this is a second chance to build his drug/gun empire though, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
G̶̶l̨͡i̵͢t̷c͝͠h̕é͠s̷̷͡:
- of all the "sins" he despises, he hates the idea of betrayal - and is extremely upset at even the implication that someone might be talking badly behind his back. When he's undercut or backstabbed in any way he takes it extremely personally, but of course he's most haunted by Michael's faked death 10 years ago - he's even got a memorial tattoo of the guy and the jerk was never dead..
- He's an emotional dude, and constantly lets those emotions (mostly rage) take over, and is actually pretty acutely aware of his anger problems, even admitting once or twice that it scares hims a bit when he loses control complete - admitting he could have hurt a trusted friend if he let himself. In line with this, he's definitely depressed - after taking drugs or huffing gas he'll sometimes wake up rambling about his self hatred.
- Of course, there's the Mother Issues. He's rendered completely helpless by her and gives in to her every demand (even if she's probably a hallucination, it's implied she's been in prison for years with no chance of release).
- the more jokey options are pretty easy too, he hates being accused of being Canadian (which he is), and abhors hipsters (which he gets accused of being the proto-hipster. the hipster to come before all hipsters. an ur-hipster. because of his extreme anarchist views and violent reaction to popular media, and inclination to live in a horrible fucking desert in a "corrugated metal death shack" to experience "the real America").
-Also he HATES CLOWNS. Clowns are the fucking worst. He doesn't understand what they find so goddamn funny all the time.