Mask of Sanity ; A New Killer Enters the Realm, Sebastian Hawke (The Psychopath)
I put a lot of thought into this character since I have nothing better to do, tell me how I did for my first, full-blown character!
Mask of Sanity
Name : (Sebastian Hawke) The Psychopath
Size : Average
Terror Radius : 40m
Movement Speed : 115%/4.6 ms
Weapon : Kitchen Knife
Lore :
Sebastian Hawke was born February 23th of 1959 into a wealthy family that resided in River North, Chicago. His father, Victor Hawke, a car salesman, who owns his own car dealership which allowed him and his family to live comfortably in the higher echelon of society. His mother, Sophie Alistair, left the family when he was but a little boy due to the strain Sebastian put on his parents' relationship.
Victor always held a grudge towards his son as he didn’t think, but rather, he knew he was the reason Sebastian’s mother, his beloved wife, left the family. As a young boy, Sebastian was a miserable child, which had only put a strain on the two lovers, dampening their relationship, causing a separation between the two. Sebastian knew the way his father felt about him, he could tell; the way he spoke to him, the way he looked at him, the way his left eye would ever so slightly twitch as the two talked, the way he would stiffen as he walked into the room. He knew why, yet he couldn’t care less.
To the blind eye, Sebastian was an incredible young man who studied hard, excelled in academics and trained really hard as an athlete. However, behind closed doors, Sebastian was a very conceited person who often had psychotic and maniacal thoughts. He didn’t care about how others felt, he didn’t care about others at all. His only concern in life was him, everybody else was but a pawn in his game of chess. He believed everybody around him was just somebody he can push down to lift himself higher. Nobody had any worth, not even his own parents; nobody except him. And he knows this, he knows this isn’t normal, his parents did the best they could, it wasn’t their fault. He was simply born this way.
Sebastian was a 4.0 GPA student and an athlete who seemed almost abnormal at times as he was about 6’ and 185, this allowed for some incredible opportunities after high-school ended, being granted various scholarships across the country, ranging from Florida to Seattle to North Carolina, yet one caught his eye in particular. The Big Apple. After graduating high school, he would then get accepted into New York University at the age of 18 in 1977.
Whilst at New York University, he majored in psychology, with his goal; to become a therapist. He ended up achieving this goal as he graduated at the end of 1986 with a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree in clinical psychology, yet, he wouldn’t become a licensed therapist until 1988. After becoming a licensed therapist, he got a job working in an office building in the South Bronx. This line of work allowed him to continue his ways. Working as a therapist allowed him to learn about people, their problems, their issues; It fed more and more into his thought process of how humans as a race can’t be redeemed. He had all sorts of patients ranging from junkies to abusers to psychopaths, he might have been a bit hypocritical and he knows, but he doesn’t care. Who’s going to stop him?
Sebastian’s intense feelings of narcissism and egotism began to slowly show as time went on yet, he tried his best to conceal it. But, despite being superior to others, it felt as if he had no control, no power. That was bound to change, he was sure of it. One day, Sebastian decided to call one of his patients, Beth Arnbrooks, a waitress at the diner on the corner of Willis Avenue; a lady struggling with her battle against drug addiction. He told her that they were shutting down the office and moving to Bridgeport, Connecticut, a drive relatively an hour and 10 away, and she needed to come and refill out all the paper work; safety protocols he blamed it on.
What they didn’t know, however, was that Sebastian was speaking nothing but lies. Fallacies. It wasn’t true, he was simply roping her along, getting her in an isolated place. Sebastian had bought a small little apartment that was abandoned in Bridgeport, sound-proofing the whole thing. When she arrived, at first Beth was confused before he explained that they hadn’t fully moved the office to Bridgeport and that it was simply their holding facility for now before they had leased an actual building or complex.
Despite being hesitant, she trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t do her any harm, he was her therapist for Christ's sake, she finally obliged, entering the apartment only to find that there wasn’t anything there. The living room was empty, the kitchen was empty. Then Sebastian walks through the front door, right behind her, locking it as he enters, guiding Beth to the room where all the “files” were stored, yet, when she entered, there was anything but a file in sight. She realized something was off but before she could act, she felt a sharp poke in her neck, everything in the room whirling and fading to black.
She woke up to the flash of a camera, finding herself bound to the seat she resided in, the room entirely white with sound-absorbent padding placed all around the room. Sebastian smirked, as he explained to her why he was doing this, why he felt the way he did. She begged and pleaded for him to let her go and she wouldn’t say a word; why was he doing this? Someone she thought she could talk to, someone she felt comfortable with had betrayed her.
At first, he cackled at her pleas, but he soon grew tired of them, as they bored him. With a tray of tools to his right, he began to torture her. He tore off finger nails, ripped out chunks of hair, cut pieces of skin off with his beautiful kitchen knife, the punishments grew in extremity as the night grew darker. He tortured her for hours, keeping her alive and awake the entire time, he enjoyed the pleasure he had gotten from hearing her scream; he had never felt more in control in his life, he loved it. Finally, he had begun to tire of her, deciding to end her once and for all with his newfound love; his pristine little revolver. He kept it perfect and pristine. He cleaned up his mess, left no traces towards the apartment, planted her vehicle in a neighborhood just a few blocks away to draw suspicion from his neighborhood and dumped her body in the nearby coast before returning to his home in the South Bronx. She was found 2 months after being reported missing by a fisherman off the coast of Bridgeport. She went missing July 14th, 1991.
Over the course of the next 3 and a half years, he would repeat this torture process as much as 11 others would disappear, with over half of them never being found. Sebastian found so much pleasure in it, he couldn’t stop. And it was too easy, it was as easy as taking candy from a baby he thought. And nobody thought anything of it; not all of his victims were patients as he knew it would draw suspicion to himself, some days it would be random people he saw off the streets and stalked them, others would be people he somewhat knew from around town.
Sebastian improved; he knew his first time was terrible. Had it been anybody else he was trying to lure into the apartment, they would’ve said no, but she trusted him. Sebastian improved on his weaknesses, he was very precise with everything. Until one day, one of his kidnapees, 28 year old Thomas Dodson, escaped.
While he dragged Thomas into his apartment at the dead of night, his hypnotic wore out earlier than expected. As soon as he got into the apartment, Thomas started to regain consciousness and realized what was happening and fought back. A brawl broke out between the two as Thomas stood up immediately and began to run for the door, Sebastian wouldn’t let him, reaching for his gun. There was no winner in this circumstance; Thomas had managed to incapacitate Sebastian enough to give himself an opportunity to run. By the time Sebastian had managed to regain his composure and run after him, Thomas was almost out of sight; He fired a few shots off before he stopped. Sebastian came to the realization that he was done. Over. Thomas would go to the police and they’d kill him or he’d spend the rest of his life in a prison cell. He began to break into laughter. HIs eyes started to tear up as he laughed. He laughed and laughed uncontrollably. He then realized. They couldn’t kill him or put him in prison if they couldn’t find him.
Thomas had ran to the nearest police station and explained the situation to them, they immediately went to investigate the apartment as Thomas was being questioned about what happened. Thomas was able to identify Sebastian, giving them a detailed description of his appearance. Yet, when they got to the apartment, there was no-one in sight. Except for one thing. Sebastian had purchased a Lexus LS400 in ‘89, the year it came out; yet t
hey were known for being very susceptible to oil leaks, Sebastian’s included. Police had noticed the oil leaks on the street thanks to the street lights and decided to see how far they would take them as that was the only lead. It didn’t take them far, the only information they got from it is that he wasn’t in Bridgeport.
Whilst the police were trying to find where he went, he had already packed all of his valuables from his house into the trunk of his car before going back inside and laying in his bed. He stared at the ceiling with a mind full of thoughts before falling asleep. The next morning, he showered, got into a fresh pair of clothes and drove. Portland had caught his eye, that’s his next stop. However, the only route from the Southern Bronx to Portland requires him to pass through Bridgeport. But he didn’t mind.
At around 10 AM, while he was passing through Bridgeport, he was pulled over by an officer, not too big a deal. The officer, Officer Charles Lee, explained to him that they were required to pull over any grey car because of Thomas telling the police about the grey car he drove. Sebastian wasn’t nervous nor was he hesitant to give the officer an ID and registration. Lee felt something off about Sebastian, though what exactly, he couldn’t explain. He returned his ID and registration to Sebastian and told him to remain there as he went back to his car to use his MDT to look this guy up. A wave of horror flooded him as he realized the sketch of the serial killer was identical to Mr. Sebastian Hawke. Charles radioed into his station that he found him and exited his vehicle and drew his weapons. He demanded that he exit the vehicle slowly with his hands above his head, but he did not comply.
Sebastian put the car in drive and sped off, in which the officer ran to his car and followed in pursuit. Charles called for backup, and his altercation resulted in a chase, soon it went from one police car to four. Charles had begun to catch up to Sebastian, ramming the sides of his car, yet he didn’t give up. Until they slammed the back of his car and he lost control, the wheels went one way while he was trying to go another, his car eventually stopping spinning out of control after he hit a tree. The cop cars surrounded him, with nowhere to go except forest. He exited out of the vehicle and began to fire. One of his shots hit an officer in the neck and killed him, the officers began trading fire with him. After he ran out of ammunition, he left his cover and ran, with the police continuing the rain of bullets upon him. Bullets flew past him whilst he ran. Suddenly, he felt sharp needles all over but he kept running as Charles and his men began to unload their magazines into him, he ran and ran until he lost them. As the adrenaline wore off, he found out those sharp needles weren't needles at all but rather, bullet wounds. He leaned up against a tree as he began to count them. One, two, three, four, five. Five bullet wounds, one going through his arm, two stuck in his leg, one in his lower back and one in his shoulder. He knew this was it. It was a Saturday, February 3rd, 1995. He chuckled as he slouched over against a tree.
He observed his environment as the realization hit that this would be the last thing he’d see. Or so he thought, suddenly, a dark mist began to infest the forest, the sky seemed to darken, a giant cloud began to wrap around him, he slowly faded into the dark.
He awoke in a new realm after the dark engulfed him. He certainly wasn’t in New York anymore, he explored the mysteries of the fog. He roamed and wandered until the entity came to him, made him a deal. He was offered control in the realm of the entity. Power. The ability to experiment. To continue his spree. This is where he was meant to be, he thought. He continues to wander the realm.
Power :
Requiem Of Retribution
Sebastian begins the Trial wielding his Blade of Betrayal—a chef’s knife that grants him 115% movement speed (~4.6 m/s) and a 32 m terror radius—while his revolver, the Chamber of Control, passively recharges over 40 seconds; by pressing M2, he can swap to the revolver, which reduces his movement speed to 110% (~4.4 m/s) and increases his terror radius to 40 m, allowing him to fire (0.4 second animation) up to six shots (five required to down a Survivor); reloading takes 2.3 seconds (during which he moves at just 70% speed and triggers an audible cue), after which any downed Survivor automatically begins the revolver’s cooldown and recharge, and pressing M1 initiates a 1.5-second animation to revert to his knife
Perks :
Sadistic Methods
You thrive on the slow unraveling of your victims, watching their hope slip from their fingertips.
Each time you hook a Survivor, you gain one stack, up to a maximum of 4/5/6. However, each time a Generator is completed, you lose one stack. For each stack you possess, all Generators within a 32-meter radius are blocked by the Entity for 5/10/10 seconds per stack.
"Their hope is slipping. I love that feeling." - Sebastian Hawke
Dead Memories
You let the echoes of their cries as they fall guide you.
Unlocks potential in one’s aura reading ability. When you down a survivor, any other survivor within 20/20/20 meters of you scream and reveal their aura to you for 4/5/6 second, then goes on cooldown for 30 seconds.
“The case files are sealed, but their faces still haunt me. Each of them nothing but a whisper in the dark.” - Officer Charles Lee, May 26th, 1997
Hex : Severed Escape
While this Hex is active, breaking a pallet causes the Entity to block all windows within 12 meters for the next 10/12/14 seconds. The path they thought would save them is no longer there. The Hex persists until its totem is cleansed or blessed.
“The illusion of safety is my favorite little lie.” - Sebastian Hawke
Add-Ons
COMMON
Worn Leather Holster - Reduces revolver reloading speed animation by 0.15 seconds.
Polished Knife Handle - Decreases knife swap animation time by 0.3 seconds
Bullet Casing - Decreases revolver swap animation time by 0.2 seconds
Brand-New Sight - Decreases ADS time by .5 seconds
UNCOMMON
Voice Recorder Tape - Survivors within 12 meters of you whilst reloading your revolver suffer from “Exhausted” for the next 5 seconds.
Overtuned Revolver Cylinder - Increases bullet capacity by +1; increases reload speed by 0.5 second
Apartment Key - Increases movement speed whilst reloading revolver by 7%
RARE
Used Syringe - Survivors injured by a revolver shot are “Hindered” by 5% for 3 seconds.
Chloroform-Soaked Cloth - When a survivor is downed by a revolver shot, their aura is hidden for the next 8 seconds.
Therapist’s ID Badge - Survivors suffer from “Oblivious” for 15 seconds after being injured by revolver shot
VERY RARE
Photograph of Beth - After reloading, your next revolver shot that injures inflicts “Deep Wound”, causing the survivor to scream
“She was my first–That, I’ll never forget.” - Sebastian Hawke
Custom-Carved Grip - Aiming the revolver increases your terror radius by +4m, but grants “Undetectable” for the next 8 seconds after a successful injure with the revolver.
Officer Lee’s Badge - Switching from your revolver to your knife reduces your terror radius to 12 meters for the next 10 seconds.
“That pig. I should’ve killed him while I had the chance.” - Sebastian Hawke
IRIDESCENT
Speedloader - Decreases maximum number of bullets to 5, each revolver shot decreases your reload speed by 10% a stack, the maximum being 3 stacks. The bonus resets after reloading.
“If only I had one of these. If only.” - Sebastian Hawke
Cased File [CLASSIFIED] - Your revolver now holds a maximum of 2 bullets; both bullets insta-down any survivor you hit, reload speed is increased by 35%.
“This file, a testimony to hope and its fragility.” - Sebastian Hawke
Cosmetics
Uncommon
Disheveled Professional
- Head: Hair combed but sticking up in tufts, sweat visible across forehead. Stubble shadow across jaw.
- Body: Shirt partially untucked, tie barely hanging on, right sleeve cleanly rolled, left hanging loose. Sweat and faint blood ring beneath the collar. Navy slacks wrinkled, belt slightly off, brown shoes dulled and streaked with blood near soles.
- Weapons: Knife faintly streaked as if wiped hastily; revolver dulled with visible fingerprints.
“Even before the blood, his mask of composure was slipping.”
Street Soiled
- Head: Hair unkempt, dirt smeared across temple and jaw. Expression harsher, twitchier.
- Body: Shirt untucked and torn, collar stretched, sleeves rolled unevenly, fabric soiled with grime. Tie missing entirely. Jeans replacing formal pants, heavily stained, frayed knees. Sneakers scuffed and torn, laces frayed.
- Weapons: Knife edge chipped, revolver with scratches etched along cylinder.
“The streets became his new stage, with the alleyways his hunting ground.”
Rare
The Clean Cut
- Head: Hair slicked straight and parted precisely. A faint calm expression hides subtle twitching veins at his temples.
- Body: Shirt tucked and crisp, tie tightened perfectly. Tiny blood flecks visible along the collar and cuffs. Pants ironed smooth, shoes polished but faint streaks of dried red trail near the edges.
- Weapons: Knife polished spotless, revolver gleaming, faint oil sheen across grip.
“For a fleeting moment, he looked like the man he once used to be.”
The Runaway
- Head: Hair tangled, clumps stuck together with grime. Small cut across cheek dried brown.
- Body: Suit jacket torn at the shoulder, shirt ripped down to chest, tie missing. Dirt and mud smeared across the torso. Slacks muddy and stiff, sneakers battered, one lace untied.
- Weapons: Knife dulled and dirt-caked, revolver heavily scratched and battered.
“Flight was just another form of the hunt.”
The Wretch
- Head: Hair greasy, blood crusted along scalp. Skin pale and sunken, jaw shadowed.
- Body: Shirt shredded and torn open, sleeves ripped. Tie crudely wrapped around the left forearm as makeshift bandage. Crimson smears stain fabric across the chest and ribs. Pants torn at both knees, stiff with filth and gore. Shoes splitting apart, sole peeling.
- Weapons: Knife rusted brown-black, revolver dented, grip cracked.
“With every kill, his civility rotted, leaving nothing but the wretch behind.”
Very Rare
The Bloodied Gentleman
- Head: Hair slicked neatly, faint smirk locked in place. Blood flecked across cheekbones and jaw, eyes cold but steady.
- Body: A navy suit jacket buttoned over a drenched white shirt. Tie loose but soaked crimson, as though dipped in gore. Every slight motion seems to drip fresh red. Slacks neatly creased but drenched halfway up the legs. Polished shoes darkened and slick, faint streaks of blood etched into seams.
- Weapons: Knife glimmers clean despite constant dripping. Revolver gleams silver, grip stained dark near trigger guard.
“He dressed with care, yet not for himself, but for the performance of slaughter.”
The First Sin
- Head: Sebastian appears younger, with a fresh face and clean features. Hair neatly parted, eyes sharp with anticipation.
- Body: A crisp shirt, spotless save for a faint crimson handprint across the chest. Tie perfectly straightened, sleeves rolled neatly. Slacks pristine, shoes shining as if freshly polished.
- Weapons: Knife gleaming stainless steel, revolver brand-new, cylinder engraved faintly.
“In the beginning, there was hesitation… followed swiftly by hunger.
Ultra Rare / Legendary
The Collector (Full Set)
“As the hunt became ritual, Sebastian no longer killed for necessity — he killed for the trophy. Every trinket, stain, and scar became part of a collection he could never complete.”
- Head: Gaze of the Hoarder
Bloodshot eyes wide and twitching, face smeared with dirt and dried blood. A necklace of grisly trophies — bones, rings, scraps of cloth — hangs loosely around his neck.
“Through bloodshot eyes, he saw not people — but trophies waiting to be claimed.” - Body: Apron of Remnants
A butcher’s apron stretched tight over a shredded shirt, caked with layers of old and fresh stains. Pockets bulge with trinkets and “keepsakes” scavenged from victims. Slacks torn and patched crudely with mismatched cloth. One shoe scavenged, mismatched with the other, both crusted in dried blood and dirt.
“Every stain told a story. Every mark a memory. He wore his past as armor, and his victims as medals.” - Weapons: Scavenger’s Tools
A chipped, uneven kitchen knife, sharpened against stone until jagged. The revolver is cobbled together with mismatched cylinder and barrel, faint cracks along its frame, still functional despite its decay.
“He needed neither elegance nor perfection. Only something sharp enough to claim what was his.”
Comments
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i love your attention to detail on this and would love to see more unique killers and survivors from you
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Thank you very much! I appreciate it, I spent a lot of time on this character so it's nice to see someone appreciates it. 🤙
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Great concept.
This is the first time ive seen someone include cosmetic ideas for their concept, great detail.
And my god... The lore, is super long and shows how much thought you spent into making this character. I tend to skip the whole backstory part of the concepts ive made, because im lazy, so its always nice to see someone put in the effort themselves when they create concepts.
All in all, cool concept.
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Thank you! I appreciate it, I put a lot of time and effort into it, (as you've seen) and had a lot of times on my hands, but thank you very much. 🤙
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