I usually post my characters and their backgrounds--but SOMEONE (John) didn't want us to reveal our characters before the game started, so I never got around to it. So here he is:
William (Bill) Powers was born in 1920 and raised in Iowa, a corn-fed farm boy. He grew up, graduated high school and went to work on the family farm until December 7, 1941, when the Empire of Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Like millions of his countrymen, John volunteered for service. He chose the Marines and was accepted. He saw more action than he ever imagined he would, or wanted to. He fought in some of the bloodiest, most brutal campaigns of the war. He was injured more than once, but never seriously. He was not looking forward to the final push into Japan itself and was relieved to learn that Japan had surrendered following the "atomic" bombing of two cities. He celebrated the victory and impatiently awaited his discharge from the military.
He was sent to Gotham for the last few weeks of his service for reasons passing all human understanding (why they sent him to the east coast from the Pacific was beyond him), but once he saw the city he knew he would stay. He'd grown up on a farm and stayed because it was what he knew. Now he'd seen a great deal more of the world and he knew he had no interest in returning to the family farm. Fortunately he had enough siblings back home that his absence wouldn't be a problem. John wanted to stay in Gotham, where he could see and do and be more than another farmboy. He spent several weeks living off his accumulated back pay while he decided what he wanted to do. And he ultimately decided that he'd put his military background and training to use by joining the Gotham City Police Department. At 25, he was just old enough to apply to and be accepted into the Police Academy. He graduated and became a rookie cop, working under the tutelage of Nathan Castle, his training officer.
It didn't take Bill long to realize Castle was corrupt. Nothing major, just a kickback here and there, a little abuse of his authority, everybody does it, kid. Bill didn't like it, but the war had taught him that theory and practice seldom meshed well. He did his best to learn the useful things Castle knew and turn a blind eye to Castle's unethical behavior. It didn't take long to learn that a lot of cops were dirty, many of them far more corrupt than Castle. Like Lt. (later Commissioner) Gordon decades later, Bill refused to take part in the corruption but stayed silent about it. He did his job, and did his best to minimize the effects of the corrupt cops who surrounded him. This live-and-let-live approach worked for a while, but eventually he stumbled across a violent human trafficking ring smuggling women into the city to work as prostitutes; he investigated despite Castle's pleas to leave it alone as too dangerous for both of them.
Bill didn't listen. He smoked out the ringleaders--a number of fellow GCPD patrolmen and detectives. His dismay (he wasn't really surprised by now) was short-lived: Sgt. Castle shot him in the back when he confronted the corrupt cops at a warehouse on the waterfront. "I tried to tell you to leave it alone, kid," Castle told him as he lay dying. "You never did listen good." Bill lived long enough to experience Castle muttering an apology as he weighted Bill down with chains and dumped him into the river. Bill doesn't remember whether he died of his wounds or of drowning. So Bill was both unsurprised and very surprised when he found himself standing by the river's edge sometime later: surprised to be alive at all, but unsurprised to be standing, soaked and freezing in the winter air, by the river. He remembers that moment vividly even now, decades later. But he remembers nothing more for months. Bill Powers died at age 29, in 1949, having survived everything the Empire of Japan could throw at him, only to be murdered by his partner.
It took Bill years to realize that he wasn't suffering from amnesia. The days, weeks, or months that remain blank remain so because he didn't exist. He was a ghost, but he manifested only fleetingly at first, invariably dazed and unresponsive to the people and events around him. There's no telling how many citizens of Gotham encountered a phantom patrolman, wet and shivering and seeming drunk or drugged or crazy, no telling how many drivers swerved abruptly to avoid the phantom pedestrian who stepped into their path oblivious to the danger--only to vanish again. As time passed, Bill manifested for longer and longer periods of time, and the intervals of oblivion became shorter as well. He became aware of the world around him once more.
Bill was shocked to find himself a ghost, and had to learn the rules of his new existence by trial and error. At first his hold on the world was tenuous, if he was startled--by a loud noise, by a sudden movement--he might vaniish like a soap bubble until he could pull himself together again. Once he learned to hold himself together, he discovered that he was visible, he could be heard when he spoke--but he was intangible. Though he could stand, or sit, or lie on a surface (and in all these decades he still doesn't understand the how or why of that, he just accepts it), he couldn't feel it beneath him--and he could move through any other solid object like--well, like a ghost. He could not touch anything, or anyone. Fortunately, he had no longer had need of food or drink or air, or of sleep for that matter. So things stood for years.
It was during the early fiftes that Bill discovered a new ability--he could take physical form. If someone offered him hospitality in the form of food or drink, a cigarette, a jacket (he always looked cold), or an offer of sex (it happened), he found himself suddenly tangible and able to accept the offer. Though he didn't need food or drink, it was glorious to be able once again to drink coffee, or beer, and to taste a humburger and fries once more--to say nothing of holding a woman in his arms again. But it wasn't only hospitality--offers of violence had the same effect. If he was (sincerely) threatened with violence (face-saving threats the individual had no intention of following up on didn't count), or if someone took a swing at him, or laid hands on him--he was able to respond. His interventions in crimes he witnessed were no longer limited to loudly witnessing them or feints (running at the criminals in hopes they'd retreat). Now he could actually intervene. And he did. Alas, his tangible form never lasted past the next dawn, whether that was 24 hours or only minutes. He could become intangible again at will, but once he did so he couldn't retake solid form until and unless he was again offered hospitality or violence.
The legend of the Phantom Patrolman took root in this decade. Bill had learned early on that he cannot pass beyond the Gotham city limits, so he has spent his afterlife confined to a single city, albeit a very large one. He knows the city intimately, having walked every inch of its streets and alleys countless times over the years. The Phantom Patrolman most often appears as a young man in a GCPD uniform (increasingly out of date at the decades passed), often soaked and shivering, but willing and able to help those who need it--and kick the asses of those who need that. In some tellings he intervenes in crimes only to vanish when no one is looking, in others he simply appears as a harbinger of death to individuals who were doomed to die. Sometimes he appears in civilian clothing and those he interacts with may not realize who they've interacted with until afterward. There are many different origins attributed to the Phantom Patrolman, all of which involve corruption and murder, and many of the stories tell of the Phantom Patrolman's bloody revenge on whomever is supposed to have killed him.
In truth, for a very long time Bill was too busy mastering his new existence to give much thought to his murder, or to revenge fantasies. By the time he was able to act on them, it had been a decade or more. Most of the perpetrators were dead themselves--Sgt. Castle among them. Some were missing (and probably dead). Others had survived, even prospered. Bill found it more satisfying in the end to interfere in their criminal enterprises, costing them money and prestige, until they were arrested by good cops, or were discarded as useless by their criminal superiors. If they wound up dead as a result, well, Bill didn't kill them so his hands were clean. Inevitably the day came when everyone involved in Bill's murder were themselves dead, imprisoned, or impoverished and miserable. He looked around and saw that there was no less corruption in Gotham. He still had plenty to do--and apparently endless time to do it.
The Phantom Patrolman continued to walk his 'beat' throughout the decades that followed. He learned to take tangible form at will, not only when offered hospitality or violence--though still only for a limited time (for hours, if need be, but ultimately he still spends most of his time as an untouchable ghost). He also learned to vanish and reappear, effectively 'teleporting' short distances, or flying (as an intangible, invisible 'mist') over longer distances.
Bill can change his appearance to a very limited degree: he cannot change his form or face, but can change what he's wearing, so he looks dry (or wet, if it's raining), and can wear current fashions--but only while intangible. Whatever he's wearing when he becomes solid, he's stuck with. Any time he reverts to his intangible form, however, he finds himself back in his 1940s GCPD patrolman's uniform, and soaked.