yardbird: These are the days we'll never forget... (PERSONA!)
Murphy Pendleton ([personal profile] yardbird) wrote2012-07-04 02:26 am

✘ application @ [community profile] maisondeportes

Character: Murphy Pendleton
Canon: Silent Hill: Downpour
Version: Original
Canon Point: Full Circle (Ending C).
Age: It’s never specified, but I tend to go with 39. It’s not like he knows, all things considered.
Gender: Male.

Much isn’t known about what Murphy’s earlier life was like. What little we do know is that he used to work at a movie theater when he was a kid, and that he’s hailed from from Boston, Massachusetts. Given his keen aptitude with cars, it might be safe to assume that he used to work on cars, or he was at least a handyman of sorts.

It’s stated that he grew up in an orphanage, and thus was potentially raised Catholic. Given that he mentions no other family except for a grandmother (and the only thing he remembers about her is a gramophone), Murphy had a pretty troubled childhood. What more, he fell into delinquent status pretty early in his life. Nothing more than petty theft and property damage, and he was never caught as he had a relatively clean record.

When he met Carol, everything was sweet. Somewhere down the line he even became a family man — a loving husband to Carol and doting father to Charlie Pendleton, where they would live in a rather pleasant neighborhood in Boston. Murphy would spend time with his son, flying kites and playing ball together and... you know, typical stuff that happens between father and son. Murphy also shared his fondness for cars with Charlie, as the two used to work on them together. For several years, Murphy Pendleton could have considered himself to be the happiest man alive.

As expected with any horror story, the life as Murphy knew it took a turn for the worse when Charlie had been kidnapped while walking home from Robbins Elementary School by Patrick Napier. Napier was the Pendletons’ mentally unstable next-door neighbor. He was also a pedophile.

Some time afterwards, Napier drove the van to a nearby lake, stuffed Charlie into a canvas sack, and threw the boy into the water where he ultimately drowned. Charlie was only six years old when his life ended.

For Murphy, his life no longer had a future, either. He tried to mend his marriage with Carol by way of grief counseling, but as what the death of a child oftentimes does to some surviving parents, the relationship went sour and they began to split apart. Murphy became withdrawn and angry with himself, and Carol just began to resent him for it. All he could think about was how his son was dead, but his killer was still alive, and how he couldn’t rest until he found the monster who had taken his baby away.

After struggling through therapy sessions with Dr. Rett Cairn, a psychiatrist specialized in helping parents cope with the loss of their child, Carol finally filed for divorce. Murphy desperately sought forgiveness from his wife, but she vehemently turned him down, telling him that he destroyed everything she had left. She left him with a rather cruel letter ("Don’t call me. Don’t write. I never want to see you again," she said), it was over. After they separated, Murphy moved out, tortured by the final words that Carol had offered him.

As a result, Murphy’s grief turned into something much darker: When his neighbor was convicted of kidnapping, sexually assaulting, and murdering an eight-year-old, Murphy figured out who his son’s killer was. It should also be noted that Patrick Napier was apparently not convicted for killing Charlie, but a boy from Brahms named Daniel Stephens. Murphy may as well have put two and two together. Although he had tried to find peace knowing that Charlie’s killer was locked up, Murphy was too hellbent on revenge after losing control of everything else that his life had become. And it all just went downhill from there.

On February 25th, police reports stated that Murphy had broken into a parked police cruiser, which he hot wired and took off recklessly, speeding out at 10:45pm. He was then pursued southbound down Interstate 94. This chase continued for ten hours and well into Ashfield, where police were able to set dispatched road spikes to take out the stolen police car the next day. Murphy had been apprehended for car theft and evading police arrest.

The idea of running for so long in order to cross the state line between Massachusetts and Maine was most likely so that Murphy could get the maximum sentence. It was also decided by endangering as many civilian lives as he could. For several years Murphy Pendleton had been incarcerated at the Ryall State Corrections Facility, though for how long it’s never stated. It can be safely assumed that he had spent enough time being surrounded by hardened criminals, that Murphy himself had become benumbed to the everyday violence that surrounded.

Over the course of Murphy’s incarceration, he had developed great respect for his corrections officer, Frank Coleridge. Frank would present Murphy’s case to the parole board, and put forth a lot of effort towards Murphy’s release, always looking out for him. Murphy’s past actions admittedly confused Frank, as someone who checked out with a clean psych record and no history of violence. To Frank, he saw no reason for Murphy’s mindless car chase down the eastern seaboard. "Maybe I just needed to escape from the world for awhile," was Murphy’s answer.

In truth, Coleridge had walked in on the corrupt officer, George Sewell, attempting to strike up a deal with Murphy. When Coleridge inquired about it, Murphy simply explained that it was just "unfinished business" that he had to take care of, and that he had it all under control. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because Napier had been a sequestered prisoner, that had rendered him untouchable. This meant that Murphy needed inside help to actually reach his son’s murderer.

Murphy made an agreement with Sewell that, in exchange for owing him a favor, he would set up a chance for Murphy to kill Napier. Focused on his own agenda, Murphy didn’t think about Sewell’s possible ulterior motives at the time. He believed Sewell to be all right, though — "a proper bastard but fair", he thought.

So he agreed. The C.O. tricked Napier into the secluded showers, where Murphy was there waiting for him. Murphy then proceeded to violently beat, slash, and stab Napier to death. The investigation following Napier’s murder was ultimately unsolved after Sewell did well to scrub up the incident, leaving Murphy in the clear.

With his son’s killer out of the way, it was Murphy’s turn to fulfill his end of the bargain. In return for killing Napier, Murphy would have to kill someone else, to which Sewell assured that the guy "deserved it". Murphy was due to leave prison soon, but if he refused, Sewell would report what Murphy did to Napier, which would undoubtedly prevent his release. Recognizing a blackmail when he saw one, Murphy agreed. Like Napier, Sewell arranged for Murphy to meet this person in the washroom in the midst of an orchestrated prison riot. With the other guards distracted, Murphy would have the chance to take out his second hit, thus finishing his end of the agreement.

The man meeting him in the showers turned out to be Frank Coleridge. After the decorated officer had become aware of Sewell’s involvement in several cases of drug trafficking, coercion, and violence among the prisoners, Coleridge had initiated an investigation on Sewell. What more, because of the investigation Coleridge had placed on Sewell for illegal activities, the C.O. was unable to discuss any promotions or merit wage increase for some time. Sewell had set up this incident in order to force Murphy to take Coleridge out for not keeping his mouth shut.

Despite this, Sewell went against his deal even after Murphy stabbed Frank in the neck with a prison shiv. With his prints on the weapon and his word over an officer’s, Sewell had no trouble keeping the incident pinned on him. After all, what he did promise to Murphy was that he would be given access to Napier. He never said that he would be able to get away with it.

The pathetic irony of it all was that Coleridge had successfully presented Murphy as a "model prisoner", who was due for early release because of the non-violent nature of his original crime. While Coleridge did survive the attack, his injuries had rendered him into a vegetative state, leaving the decorated officer wheelchair bound for years before he finally died. With the promise that cop killers don’t make it long in prison, Sewell practically signed Murphy’s death warrant.

The riot was eventually brought to an end when prison guards stormed the place armed with tear gas, batons, and shotguns. Four prisoners were killed, and a number of officers (Frank Coleridge included) were injured. Even after a full investigation, no evidence linked Sewell to being the instigator of the riot.

Some years afterwards, Murphy was to be sent to Wayside Maximum Security Prison, along with a group of seven other prisoners. While boarding the prison transfer bus, he met the Wayside C.O., Anne Cunningham. She didn’t seem to like him in particular very much, darting proverbial daggers with her eyes during the bus ride from Ryall State Corrections Facility. Then again, no one liked a cop killer, especially if you were a cop. But Cunningham’s was a very special kind of dislike for a reason that was beyond even Murphy.

Of course, passing trips through Silent Hill for troubled individuals never quite go from Point A to Point B. After one of the fellow convicts, Sanchez, started asking Murphy about what happened to Coleridge, Cunningham was set off. The driver, distracted, veered the bus off the road in attempt to avoid colliding into one of the many chasms surrounding the town’s foggy reality. They landed in a ravine. The crash was devastating, and when Murphy regained consciousness, he was thrown several feet from the bus. Everyone had mysteriously vanished. So did his handcuffs.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Murphy decided to take his chances by putting as much distance between himself and the bus as possible. He hiked through the ravine, discovering a mangled body of one of the prisoners that clearly hadn’t been caused by the wreck. Unnerved by this discovery, Murphy ventured deeper into the wilds, meeting with Cunningham, a gun aimed at his head, and a chasm in between them. Though baffled, Murphy was more inclined to talk the C.O. down before getting herself killed trying to cross the perilous rock-side. As expected, she slipped, dangling over the rocky ledge. Despite any efforts made to help her, she fell into the chasm anyway.

Making his way to the outskirts, Murphy met Howard Blackwood, an overly friendly mailman who seemed a bit too quick to strike a casual conversation with someone dressed in a convict jumpsuit, and even jokingly asked him if he was headed to prison. Though Howard showed no hurry to call the authorities, Murphy was immediately on his guard (it didn’t help that he did just catch Murphy as he was about to break into a car). Regardless, Howard gave Murphy some helpful advice, telling him that the roads are all out, but he could take the sky-tram to get out of the area. As Murphy glanced away briefly, he caught sight of a disfigured-looking person hanging out in one of the windows of the adjacent houses, but vanished with a second glance. Not witnessed to the figure, Howard left to supposedly "deliver mail", and Murphy went about his own merry way into the Devil’s Pitstop diner. It was there where Murphy underwent his first Otherworld experience...

In his attempt to extinguish a fire he had accidentally started in the diner’s kitchen, the walls proceeded to shed away into a hellish, watery reality. Obviously questioning his sanity at this point, Murphy continued on, only to be run down by a red Void. With the memory of Frank Coleridge’s voice prompting him to run, Murphy didn’t hesitate, and gave chase with the Void hot on his heels.

Eventually, Murphy managed to escape the nasty prison of his own ugly mind, and somehow wound up back at the diner again, just as it had been before. Either way, it didn’t affect his resolve to get out of this crazy town and never look back. He left the diner, and explored the hotel next door, where he stumbled upon what appeared to be Sanchez violently beating a woman. While Murphy attempted to wrestle Sanchez off of the woman, a monster stood up, slit Sanchez’s throat with its claws, and proceeded to attack Murphy who was more quick to defend himself.

Deciding that it would be better to keep a low profile after his last encounter with Howard, he managed to find a set of civilian clothes in one of the abandoned houses. In the pockets, he discovered both a key to the outside gate, and a mourning police badge (the black ribbon around it signifying the death of the officer that owned it).

After obtaining a ticket to the sky-tram, the next stop was the Devil’s Pit (a gorge on the southeastern side of town). There, he met JP Sater, who was formerly the tour guide of the Devil’s Pit. Sater’s melancholy use of past tense when referring to the kids who used to ride the train in the mines reeked of bad news, but Murphy wasn’t one to pry. With only his own welfare in mind, he had Sater point him the way out via the old train through the mines. When Murphy asked him to show him the way to the train himself, Sater simply replied, "Sorry. There’s some place I gotta be."

One romp through the monster-infested mines later, Murphy ran into Sater outside once again. This time, Sater had taken it upon himself to "enjoyed the view" of the Devil’s Pit. On the lookout rail, no less. Having read some newspaper articles regarding the train accident that killed eight children, and a drunk and belligerent Sater who had caused the derailment, there was no question as to what he was doing hanging over the edge. Literally. Murphy had issues finding any sympathy for a guy whose negligence killed all those kids, but tried to find the words to console him anyway. Unfortunately, no matter what could be said, Sater jumped to his death.

Murphy then took a ride on the nightmare train (truly fun for all the family), before blacking out and being flown from the ride. He woke up, finding shortly afterward that Cunningham had somehow managed to survive that fall into the chasm. And she was not in the least bit happy. Determined to take Murphy down, she pushed him up against the wall, and discovered the mourning badge in his pocket while patting him down. Shocked by this, she demanded where Murphy had got it, then nearly shot him there on the spot. Realizing that she lacked the resolve to finish him off, she backed away, now wrought with tears and apologizing profusely (but seemingly not to Murphy). Flipping between anguish and whatever kind of vendetta she had with Murphy, she told him to go. Still thinking that they should be helping each other instead of pointing guns, Murphy hesitantly acquiesced the request. He had no idea why she seemed to hate him so much. She wasn’t anything like the corrupt guards who got their kicks abusing the prisoners under their watch. Even Howard later told him that her beef with him had to be something personal.

When Murphy finally made it to Silent Hill, there was no sign of civilization to be found. He was instead met with a completely deserted town, populated solely by monsters and a terrible storm overhead. Seeking shelter in one of the buildings, he caught word from a voice over the radio, frequently making song dedications to Murphy Pendleton. Figuring that it was someone who could give him answers as to what was going on in the town, he decided to seek out the radio DJ, Bobby Ricks. Howard showed up briefly once again to point Murphy in the direction of the WLMN FM radio station in the Centennial Building, before vanishing without a trace just as he had before.

During Murphy’s trek through the town, he began picking up odd pieces of paper pertaining to his personal life. The police reports from when he’d been arrested, parole papers regarding his early release... Even pictures of the crime scene from when Charlie was murdered, down to his son’s missing posters began manifesting throughout Silent Hill.

Murphy eventually managed to make his way up the Centennial Building, meeting up with DJ Bobby Ricks at the WLMN FM radio station. He casually greeted Murphy, but once dropping the act, revealed that he had a boat that he would take out of town if someone hadn’t jacked the keys. Murphy then found himself at gunpoint when Cunningham showed up again, demanding to use Ricks’ phone. This hostile reunion was cut extremely short when the station was attacked by a group of monsters, and everything went dark. When the lights came on, everything was silent and Murphy was alone again, trapped in the blood-splattered radio station.

As a result of purposefully starting a fire in order to gain access to the emergency exit, the world began to peel away again; bringing forth more of the hellish reality that sprung from Murphy’s psyche. The red Void made an untimely reappearance, and another chase began. Here, Murphy encountered the strange, wheelchair-bound creature he’d seen hanging in the windowpane by the Devil’s Pitstop. But before he could confront the figure, the ground gave way and Murphy fell through the building, catching passing glances of a little girl and Cunningham running across a couple catwalks — and a figure wearing a gasmask and a raincoat (the Bogeyman). He was then thrown onto the clocktower, where he began falling to his death. He woke up, however, on a roadside bench, completely unscathed.

Howard showed up again, delivering a letter addressed to Murphy from St. Maria’s Monastery. Frustrated with all of the cryptics, Murphy threw the letter down, and lost his temper with Howard. The mailman, handing another copy of the same letter to Murphy, casually informed him that it wasn’t a matter of what he wanted. Howard left, and that was the last time Murphy would see him. He then resigned to his next destination.

At St. Maria’s Monastery, a nun was seemingly waiting to tell him that he was the only family that they were able to find. Murphy was confused by this, most likely because he didn’t have any family left for anyone to contact. Despite insisting that there had been a mistake, the nun invited him inside anyway, told him to have a look around, and that she’d be waiting for him in the morgue. Before Murphy could ask her what was going on, she was gone.

The monastery was in dismal condition, making it impossible to reach the morgue without finding a roundabout way to get there. Murphy shortly encountered a little boy playing with a toy police car behind a locked door. While attempting to strike up a conversation with the kid, the boy believed Murphy to be "the Bogeyman" because a girl had told him so. In order to prove that he wasn’t the Bogeyman, Murphy was forced to track down a rhyme that the boy said could prevent the Bogeyman from hurting you, deciding that he was going to help the boy and girl get out of this town. Sadly it was too little too late, as when Murphy finally made it back, the boy was being attacked by the real Bogeyman Murphy had seen in the Otherworld. Unable to recite the rhyme fast enough while desperately trying to break down the door, the Bogeyman snapped the boy’s neck right in front of Murphy. The door then opened, and Murphy approached the boy’s body as he began to recall the death of his own son. While regretting that he hadn’t been able to act fast enough to save both boys, the girl (notably, the same girl that had been running through the Otherworld with Cunningham, and Murphy had been previous chasing all over the monastery) appeared. Screaming, the girl accused Murphy of killing the boy, and fled. Murphy promptly ran after her, fearing that she would get herself killed too, as the monastery transformed into the Otherworld. Here, Murphy encountered both the Void and the Bogeyman himself while trying to track down the little girl. He managed to escape both, finding the girl talking to the creature in the wheelchair. Before Murphy could catch up with them, the floor fell through and plunged him into an abyss.

Murphy woke up on a gurney in the morgue, where he met the nun standing over a covered stretcher. Outraged when she had told him that he had to sign for his son’s body, Murphy explained that he had already buried his son a long time ago. When the body was unveiled, his "son" was revealed to be the Bogeyman. Murphy exclaimed that it was a murderous monster, to which the nun responded, "I suppose that runs in the family." Murphy accepted that what he did to Napier didn’t solve anything, but continued to justify his revenge because his son was gone, his life was out of control, and he didn’t see any other way but to choose the path he’d taken. The nun asked him at which point does the path to revenge end, which apparently allowed Murphy to "accept" his actions rather than just making excuses for them. Telling him that the answers were in front of him if he looked for them, Murphy noticed the Bogeyman wearing Ricks’ boat keys around its neck.

Just when Murphy claimed the boat keys, the Bogeyman grabbed him, lifting Murphy and hurled him into the wall. While the nun began praying, the Bogeyman whacked Murphy with its cinder-block/hammer, and all faded back to black. Murphy was then lying in what appeared to be the front yard of his old house in Boston, while hearing the voice of Charlie screaming for help in the distance. Following the sound of Charlie’s cries, Murphy was led down to the lakeside that resembled the place where Napier had murdered his son, and was forced to confront the Bogeyman. Murphy managed to defeat the Bogeyman with its own hammer, and was transported back to the morgue (perhaps implying that it had been a dream he was facing). Standing over the corpse of the Bogeyman, the revealed face flickered between Napier and Murphy’s own face. Charlie then manifested, telling his father that he had just defeated the Bogeyman. Murphy said that it didn’t matter, because nothing he did could bring Charlie back, which in reality was all he ever wanted. "It’s not your fault," Charlie told him, and disappeared. Murphy apologized for what he had done to Napier, and left.

Murphy made his way to the boat docks, using Ricks’ keys to start the boat and began to leave Silent Hill off into an almost-too-peaceful sunset. Unfortunately, his moment of reprieve was a short one when Cunningham showed up behind him with a gun to his head, ordering him to turn the boat around so that they can "finish what [he] started". Dumfounded that she would ask such a thing, Murphy flat out refused and told her that she may as well have to shoot him. This time, Cunningham did not have as much trouble pulling the trigger.

Whether Cunningham actually shot him or it happened by fluke of the town’s intervention, Murphy was not dead. Instead, he woke up in a prison cell. The strange, wheelchair figure that had been following him up until now lingered outside his cell, before it turned and moved away. Suddenly, the cell doors opened, leaving Murphy to the horrific realization that he was neither at Ryall nor Wayside. Rather, he was at someplace called Overlook Penitentiary, on an island within Silent Hill’s very own Toluca Lake.

Like everything else in town, the penitentiary was deserted, solely inhabited by crazed-looking prisoners. Murphy fought his way through, and narrowly avoided being killed by escaping into one of the vents. He fell through, and wound up in a cafeteria with more prisoner monsters. He was eventually led into the shower room, not much unlike the one from Ryall, in that it reflected the aftermath of a very familiar crime scene. Murphy collected a mourning badge — the same kind he’d found in the pocket of his clothes — as well as a prison shank, and some gloves. Then, the showers started to get a little weird... turning on their own, blood pouring out of the sink, the locker, from the floor, and spilling from the door. At the end of the blood trail out the door, Murphy found a body bag. But before he could open it, the world dissolved once again into the Otherworld. The Void made its final appearance, and Murphy gave chase through the hell-brazen prison. He eventually lost it as he escaped up several flights of stairs, and wound up in some kind of bizarre holding for the wheelchair-bound creature. Only this time, it was gargantuan in size, clinging to its existence on life support. While seemingly helpful in nature on Murphy’s path through Silent Hill, the Wheelman assaulted him with full force. Murphy figured out how to kill it by shutting off its life support, and the massive creature thrashed about in throes of agony before it died.

Somehow, Murphy found himself back at the prison bathrooms and standing over the withered corpse of the creature he’d just killed. He was then confronted by Anne Cunningham, who saw not a monster husk lying dead on the floor but her father, Frank Coleridge. Murphy was shocked by this, and tried to explain to her what happened. But Cunningham wouldn’t listen, explaining how she had to watch a man she loved and respected deteriorate into a vegetable, and all she could see was the monster that did it to him. Then, Murphy changed, turning into the Bogeyman himself — a manifestation of hatred and vengeance. After she shot him, it seemed that he had lost humanity for a brief period of time, attacking Cunningham ruthlessly until she collapsed. With Cunningham at his mercy, the Bogeyman raised his hammer...

What Murphy did was the unthinkable, and he killed her. Frank’s daughter, a man who had treated Murphy with respect and care. In the end, he couldn’t stop himself. As if the town was trying to show him what he’d done, he was back at the prison showers, the bodies of Frank and Anne laid out before him and Sewell’s shadow watching on the sidelines.

Overwrought with guilt, Murphy seized the discarded gun from one of the officer’s holsters, put it to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Rather than death, Murphy returned to the cell in Overlook Penitentiary where he began. With his head in his hands, the echoes of all the damned trapped in Silent Hill made sense: Murphy was in Hell, doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over.

Full circle.

Murphy is a nice guy! Shocking, right? One wouldn’t really think that a guy who spent time behind bars would be a swell person. But in Murphy’s case, morality isn’t such a black and white ideology. He was not driven to crime by sadism or mindless violence. As a matter of fact, first impressions might not even indicate him to be a violent man at all. But if it’s one fault that Murphy is plagued by, he’s a goddamned Roaring Rampage of Revenge, which is not a force to be reckoned with when pushed to his limits.

While hardened by his years Ryall State Penitentiary, Murphy was reported to be a "model prisoner". He kept his head down most of the time, and minded his own business when among the crowd. Be it an already existing behavior or a habit he picked up in prison, Murphy doesn’t look someone in the eye very long, with only the occasional brief glances. Given that he spent so many years surrounded by murderers and convicts much worse than himself, staring contests with his peers probably wasn’t a practiced habit. Either way, he has a perpetual penchant for keeping his head down when talking to people, and slouches quite a bit when he walks.

Another noticeable trait is that, when alone, Murphy tends to talk to himself. A lot. It’s a probable and understandable symptom of unnerved jumpiness when hurled into a tense scene for anyone, but still. The sound of his own voice might have actually helped keep him grounded to some realm of sanity in a world of madness and isolation, which Murphy is quite familiar with. He’s mostly realistic when solving problems, while still capable of thinking outside the box.

It might have also been a habit he picked up after spending time alone in his prison cell, and he probably didn’t converse much with his fellow inmates. On that note, it’s more than likely that he didn’t have any friends while in prison, and trusted only Coleridge and Sewell for a time. He isn’t one to start knocking heads for no reason, but did what he could to stay clear from trouble. He’s also described as having a more soft-spoken and withdrawn nature most of the time.

Murphy never understood Frank Coleridge, why he treated him the way he did, or accepted him despite his failures. Murphy’s low opinion of himself makes him believe that he’s a screw-up who always lets people down, but Frank was the only one who never gave up on him. To add to the deaths of Charlie and Napier, Murphy carries the weight of losing a noble friend like Frank on his shoulders as well. It’s not an easy burden to carry. Why, it’s almost enough for one to believe that death just tends to follow them wherever they go.

There is one other thing that Murphy does not take for granted, and that is the simple things in life. Understandable, for someone who’s been isolated from his old societal life for so long. He’s described a feeling of dehumanization after being identified by his prisoner number for so long, and expresses relief when he’s finally changed into "real" clothes.

At first glance, you wouldn’t have thought that a man like Murphy was ever a happy guy. But he was... at one time. Being a happy father once himself, he obviously has a soft spot for kids, and is generally protective of them in the face of dangerous situations. He doesn’t like seeing innocent people getting hurt, either, and isn’t above going out of his way to step in to help someone in need (even if they were, you know, pointing a gun at him two seconds ago). Be it freeing caged birds or looking for lost children or helping homeless guys in subways catch fish, he can be a Good Samaritan when the times call for it. What a guy.

Emotionally distraught by the death of his six-year-old son, Murphy is a prime example of what tragedy can do to destroy a human being. For an escaped convict, he isn’t entirely without his virtues, and can be a genuinely decent person at heart. In spite of his ruthless vengeance streak, Murphy admits that he would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt — implying that he might hurt them if he believed that they did deserve it. He also states that he would never be able to live with himself if he ever hurt a child. That said, he isn’t too thrilled about people who hurt kids, either, and has no tolerance for them.

That doesn’t rule out the fact that Murphy has an anger problem. While he may not immediately resort to physical violence, he is a violent man, and will respond by verbally lashing out when things don’t work out in his favor. This was most likely the final straw that led to his divorce with Carol. Murphy is more or less completely aware of his actions and crimes, but is usually more quick to justify them than anything else. He isn’t in denial that he wanted his son’s killer dead, but he does try and rationalize what he had done because of what he’s been through. He actually does this a lot, not just with his anger, but with his delinquent actions as well. As in, bending the law a little isn’t a big deal if it’s not big enough for anyone to ever notice (i.e. shamelessly taking money from cash registers in abandoned stores simply because no one will make use of it, anyway).

Like with anyone who’s been unlucky enough to venture into Silent Hill, it’s worth noting that many of the monsters and physical manifestations of the town are also reflections of Murphy himself. These are usually left open for interpretation, but for posterity’s sake, these are some personal speculations that pertain to his character. It’s worth nothing that, for someone who has lived among monstrous people for so many years, Murphy’s demons would take on a more humanoid appearance.

Despite his efforts to escape from his fate at Wayside Max, Murphy has no reservations in conceding his own defeat. He isn’t the type to beg for his life, and he’s even willing to accept his fate if that is what’s chosen for him. He doesn’t plead for Cunningham not to kill him, and even tells her while they’re on Ricks’ boat that she might as well. It’s not much of a stretch to call Murphy suicidal, so he does very much fall into that area where he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. There is also an ominous implication in all the imagery surrounding the town, which feature people hanging themselves.

Murphy is wrecked by a lifetime of guilt. Even though he had no power over what happened to Charlie, he always blamed himself for it anyway. This, most likely, did not make matters better with his ex-wife. He needed Carol’s forgiveness during a time in which he could not forgive himself, and she simply couldn’t deliver — not that he blames or resents her for it. Carol had come to know Murphy better than anyone; she was his best friend, and she forgave him for all the wrong he’d done in his life before and after they had met. Just not this time, when she told Murphy that all she had ever asked of him was to be a good enough father... and he couldn’t do even that. To add more insult to injury, she told him that he had failed his family, and it was his fault they would never have Charlie back. Just as Murphy’s grief led him into prison, Carol was most likely just taking her grief out on her husband. This has never left him, and it probably never will.

Murphy had grown to hate himself, and has fallen pretty deep down this destructive path of self-loathing and doubt. A parent having to bury their child, especially so young, is doubtlessly a scarring experience that not even years worth of counseling can always pull you through. But not even killing Napier brought him any peace, and by the time he realized this, it was too late. Now, he is haunted by the pleads he’d made, the blood, and the look Napier gave him when he died, and the defeated disappointment on Frank’s as Murphy drove a shiv through his neck. Murphy’s story is one that explores the path of vengeance at its ugliest core, and the vicious reality that cycles it.

Confinement: While not necessarily crippled by his fears, to say that Murphy is uncomfortable in small and/or confined spaces is an understatement. If he ever finds himself in a space in which he is unable to get out, he will most likely panic and do whatever means necessary to get himself out. Isolation and loneliness as well will have an impact on him, as he will desperately try and seek out the comfort of company as much as possible. He’s not the kind of guy who likes to be left to his own devices for very long.

Drip Drip: Because it’s looking like a downpour today, hurr.
On a more serious note: Murphy is obviously not over the unsettling presence of water, or the impact that it has on his trauma. The remains of all the terrible things he’s endured when he saw his son being pulled from the lake as well as the deaths of two people in the prison showers left him broken. Because of this, Murphy has a fear of drowning, as well as an unnerving perspective on drowning in general.

Fuck The Police: It’s interesting to note that, instead of the usual radio static that’s presence in most of the Silent Hill installments when a monster is near, Downpour has radio chatter. Not only that, but it’s more like gibberish from a police scanner. Because of Murphy’s fear of getting caught and sent back to prison, the fact that his warning signal when monsters are near is the sound of something he dreads the most.

The Jitters: It’s not a good idea to sneak up on him, or approach him from behind in any way without letting him know ahead of time. Having been jumped by several monsters from behind, he’s very alert and does not respond very kindly to surprises. He’s actually pretty jumpy in general, especially when it comes to physical contact.

Himself: Murphy’s biggest fear and greatest enemy. Even he himself can’t entirely weigh out the extent of what he’s capable of, as he’s willing to do a number of amoral things in order to do what he feels is necessary. Not only that, but the memory of having been a literal monster himself is a trauma that still hasn’t left him. He knows that deep down inside, there is no hope of redemption for himself, and that in the end it’s only Hell that waits for him. Silent Hill or anywhere else? Doesn’t matter, because it’s all the same to him. After all, he has to live with the things he’s done.

Flight? When faced with an impossible situation, Murphy has no reservations about tearing like a bat out of Hell. But he’s also more inclined to flee than he is to stick around. He has issues with authority and most people in any sort of position of power, especially when that person pertains to any government positions. So, the moment that one rolls around, his immediate instinct is going to be to get out of there and never look back.
Why is this a weakness?
Because Murphy has a bad habit of running from his problems, rather than owning up and facing them. And there’s nothing worse than running from yourself.

Going Off The Rails: It’s hinted that Murphy suffers a case of post-traumatic stress disorder, which he expresses in acts of anger that drives him to making irrational choices. It can be a result of a lot of things: Losing his son, killing two men, solitary confinement in prison, and Silent Hill as a whole has led him to be broken.
Because of PTSD, Murphy has difficulty with trust as well as remembering how to act around people who aren’t murderous inmates or monsters trying to cut his throat open. Fighting for his life is all he’s ever known for awhile. Recent events have also led Murphy to oftentimes question the state of his sanity. He’s only human, and to top it off, witnessing his son’s body being pulled out of the lake as well as bloodying his own hands did a number on his mental health. Wrought by his own demons and regret, he’s a basketcase of mental issues.

Piñata Party: There are certain things that Murphy is not too fond of — small spaces being one of them. Because his vision of torment is manifested in several enclosed spaces and confinement that he must pass through, it isn’t a stretch to say that Murphy is a high functioning claustrophobic. If he’s ever in a situation in which he is trapped or imprisoned again, chances are he isn’t going to know how to handle it very well.

Mundane Strengths/Abilities:
Calling All Cars: Given his previous knowledge and interest for cars, it’s no surprise that Murphy is able to break in and boost them as well. He displays a sharp memory, having no problem with distinguishing automobiles on the spot. That said, he probably knows his way around mechanical equipment.

Cutting Room Floor: He also had experience working in a movie theater, so he knows how to work a film reel splicer and a projector. How the hell will this ever be useful? I have no idea, but it’s something he can do...

Or fight? Murphy isn’t entirely vulnerable. He is pretty resourceful when cornered into a fight. Be it facing monsters or other humans, he’ll be quick to defend himself. He tends to try and make the rational and realistic decision, especially with whether or not if he needs to resolve an issue with violence. Murphy will also make use of just about anything as a weapon, be it rocks, tools, chairs, his fists, or even his own thick skull.
Between pistols, colts, and shotguns, he’s got a pretty good shot, too. He’s not above fighting dirty, either. Because prison brothers never know how to fight fair, and sometimes you have to get down to their level if you want to survive.
The man also has an impressive stamina. Even after being cooped up in a cell for an ungodly period of time, he can run for long periods of time and hop over objects pretty quickly. He’s not a particularly fast runner except when hopped up on adrenaline, in which he just books it like a Weeping Bat out of Hell.

Oh God Not Again... Speaking of "out of Hell", Murphy has been through it and... not back. He’s actually never left, but has been stuck in a loop which he is unable to get out of. While this is objectively both a strength and weakness due to his weak state of mind, at this point Murphy would likely find himself jaded by more weird shit that gets thrown his way.

Sensitivity/Magical Ability:
Murphy is just a normal human. As such, he has no special powers to limit and no real sensitivity to it. He’s had his own fair share of weird experiences in Silent Hill with manifestations and ghosts, but that’s about it.

Supply List: I would like to take Murphy in some time after the Full Circle Ending. As in, he’s been stuck in Silent Hill for awhile, in a similar manner that Howard Blackwood (and potentially JP Sater) had been. In this case, he’s armed with just:
→ (1) fire axe
→ (1) police handgun (with only one bullet)
→ (1) lighter
→ ...and, maybe his civilian outfit

Game Transfers: N/A

Sample RP post:
Most of the time it was rain. The rolling of clouds carrying thundering flashes of light, like misty hills that rolled across that perpetually overcast sky. In all his time in this place, nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed here. Every day was the same lonely nightmare, and it was an inevitable fight for his life. Why Murphy even bothered anymore was anyone’s guess. From the rising dawn to the settling dusk, the ending was always the same. Though you know how the saying goes — there ain’t no rest for the wicked.

It was poetic justice, really. He used to hear horror stories from the nuns as he grew up about Purgatory, and what happened to all the bad people who ended up there. Murphy had done himself a great and terrible sin. He had killed someone — and then he had gone and tried to turn the bullet on himself. It seemed only fair that he should wake up in constant confusion, in misery and pain. In fact, he was used to it by now, almost at peace with it to the point where he was hardly surprised when he did not wake up in a cold cell this time.

For once in his sorry existence, things changed. Was it chance that sent him away? Fortune? Divine intervention? Or maybe just another unlucky hand that he’d been dealt with, he couldn’t know. Did he have a dream? Did he wake up?

He was on the floor. Not a hard cot with no mattress, or a hard town bench with his name on it while the storm came calling from the horizon.

This time, oddly enough, he woke up indoors, with only a chill that overwhelmed him.

Murphy groaned, shaking as he pushed himself up off the floor — only to slip back down onto his knees. “Shit!” He cursed, grabbing onto his arm. He could still feel the phantom pains of a bullet piercing through him. Cunningham’s bullet, when she had fired her gun and shot him for the umpteenth time.

She should have just finished the job.

He shook his head, and instead of ruminating over the pain, he focused on what he had on hand this time, only to find himself surprised that he didn’t wake up this time in the orange-red jumpsuit.

This place really wasn’t Overlook, the more he looked around. And the more he looked around, the more it became painfully obvious that this area looked vaguely unlike the abandoned allure of the Silent Hill buildings.

Things were definitely a lot different now, and he didn’t know why. He frantically reached for the back of his jeans, searching for anything he might have left.

No walkie-talkie, but— Yes! A gun! Perfect. Truly his luck had improved.

Adjusting the gun to extract the clip, he double-checked the magazine that slipped out, and his shoulders slumped.

Of course there would be only one bullet left. Why would any higher being or whatever it was that brought him here have any reason to bother giving him any chance to defend himself?

"Dammit..." Murphy dropped his hands back to the floor again, wincing as the pang in his arm continued to fester. There was no blood, of course, but he could still feel it as though it was a taunting reminder that no matter how much he sought a silver lining, things were always going to get worse.