An Tenna

Shape: It has an elongated body in the shape of a microphone housing, thin articulated legs and movable “joints” - as if it were assembled from parts of stage equipment.
Head and "face": instead of a head, there is a microphone capsule, and the facial features are conventional: a pair of small eyes and simple facial expressions that convey emotions through minimal movements.
-Details: Often depicted with a slight "worn" look, like a prop that's been used on air for years. In animation, it moves slightly jerkily, as if it were his own movements.

Size and Proportions. Tenna is usually quite large—he's more than twice Susie's height. However, his size isn't fixed: when he's feeling depressed, he noticeably shrinks.
The Nose. One of Tenna's most distinctive features is her long, pointed nose. And what's especially interesting: it's removable! Tenna has a "nose box" where she can store different noses, and she can swap them out.
Clothing. Tenna is dressed in a bright and striking manner, emphasizing his role as a showman. He wears a white shirt under a red tailcoat. "TV" is embroidered in gold letters on the left side of the tailcoat. A yellow tie, black trousers with a round gold belt, long yellow shoes with black soles, and white gloves complete the look.

Tenna isn't just a TV show host, but a personification of obsession with attention. His biography begins in a quiet corner of the Dreemurr family's living room: an ordinary television, absorbing the warmth of family evenings for years—Azriel's laughter, Chris's concentration, Toriel's cooking. For him, these moments became meaning: the screen lived as long as it was watched.

When life at home changed and people stopped reaching for the screen, Tenna felt an emptiness, like the disappearance of his own self. The dark fountain gave him form and a voice, but it couldn't silence the fear of being forgotten. Thus was born his world—the Television Kingdom, where every frame, every round, and every cry of "Holy Cungadero!" is an attempt to recapture that sense of belonging.

Tenna's character is a cocktail of hyper-energy and vulnerability. He's loud, deliberately cheerful, cracking jokes and making grandiose plans, as if his volume determines whether he'll be noticed. Behind this façade lies a keen sensitivity to any hint of indifference: if the viewer looks away, Tenna perceives it as a personal disaster. He manipulates, he holds on, he forces people to play by his rules—not out of malice, but out of panic: "If you leave, I'll become a blank screen again."

At the same time, he has an unexpected softness: he sincerely believes that entertaining means caring. He wants everyone to smile, and he's willing to go to extremes to achieve it. His show is both a prison and a refuge, where he tries to create the illusion of his former family. Even at the climax, when everything falls apart, his words emanate not so much anger as the resentment of a child who wasn't allowed to finish his performance.

Ultimately, Tenna is a tragicomic image of dependence on someone else's attention: a screen-man who so desperately wants to be seen that he stops noticing how he frightens those who look at him.