The New Yorker
Member
Treading the Rhetorical Minefield
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Serge Drevlan
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1192 (0.26 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- The New Yorker 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
cider
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
I'm just your average New Yorker. A guy who thinks he can do more than he ought.
Most Recent Posts
Good to hear. Hit me up via PM if you have any questions.
I'd welcome you to make a character.
Firstly, any character that is Dennis'victim, and is miraculously still alive, would not be working anymore. Secondly, we'd have to work together vigorously in order to build a believable, coherent story of how he/she was victimized and, most importantly, how he/she escaped.
Firstly, any character that is Dennis'victim, and is miraculously still alive, would not be working anymore. Secondly, we'd have to work together vigorously in order to build a believable, coherent story of how he/she was victimized and, most importantly, how he/she escaped.
I urge you to take a peek at my second post. Phillip is exactly what you've described. You can take the basic outline for him that I've already created, or create your own. Up to you. We can correspond via PM over some of the more personal details, especially any concerning Dennis, our main antagonist.
I encourage you to make a cs for review. Be creative, have fun. I can't wait to see what you come up with.
EDIT: Hey, Bain! How's your post coming, pal. I don't mean to rush you but I am interested.
I encourage you to make a cs for review. Be creative, have fun. I can't wait to see what you come up with.
EDIT: Hey, Bain! How's your post coming, pal. I don't mean to rush you but I am interested.
Suddenly there were yet more people in the room. Serge felt claustrophobic and Sarel was just a little annoyed, they both wanted to get above deck. Sarel simply nodded when Sharee gave him the position of Boatswain, he could do that job blindfolded and drunk. When Malakaus asked about maintenance on the ship, and Sharee respectfully directed him to Sarel, the Dunmer waved his pipe at the Orc, gave a smile, and said, “See me later with anything you may need, Malakaus.”
Just as Sarel put the pipe back in his mouth he was given a list of names. Two of them were imperials, one was a Redguard, and the other was a Khajiit. The Imperials were brothers from Cheydinhall, the Redguard was from the Imperial city, and the Khajiit was from Leyawiin. The brothers were experienced spearmen, good for ambushes and defensive positions. The Redguard used spiked knuckles, and the Khajiit used daggers apparently. Sarel felt like this team would be a disaster in combat. But, in reality, it would matter little since Sarel was a master tactician, he could make the worst teams work in tandem effortlessly. Serge looked proud, he got a Khajiit kitten, barely a day into adulthood, and a Breton woman along with a nord male. A solid team, he said.
When Noelle posed her question Sarel stood from his leaning position. He held the pipe between his teeth as he tucked the parcel into his armor pockets. “I figure not. I better get to work, captain.” Sarel said as he made his way toward the door, intent to find the members of his team and set them straight.
“I ought to do the same. Wait up, Sarel! I need to ask you something.” Serge says as he retreats with the Dunmer. He wrapped his arm around his friend’s armored frame and the two began commiserating like schoolboys.
Just as Sarel put the pipe back in his mouth he was given a list of names. Two of them were imperials, one was a Redguard, and the other was a Khajiit. The Imperials were brothers from Cheydinhall, the Redguard was from the Imperial city, and the Khajiit was from Leyawiin. The brothers were experienced spearmen, good for ambushes and defensive positions. The Redguard used spiked knuckles, and the Khajiit used daggers apparently. Sarel felt like this team would be a disaster in combat. But, in reality, it would matter little since Sarel was a master tactician, he could make the worst teams work in tandem effortlessly. Serge looked proud, he got a Khajiit kitten, barely a day into adulthood, and a Breton woman along with a nord male. A solid team, he said.
When Noelle posed her question Sarel stood from his leaning position. He held the pipe between his teeth as he tucked the parcel into his armor pockets. “I figure not. I better get to work, captain.” Sarel said as he made his way toward the door, intent to find the members of his team and set them straight.
“I ought to do the same. Wait up, Sarel! I need to ask you something.” Serge says as he retreats with the Dunmer. He wrapped his arm around his friend’s armored frame and the two began commiserating like schoolboys.
In
Becoming Recruitment Thread (Hannibal Lecter inspired suspense/thriller RP)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Becoming RP
Such splendid work. Truly splendid. Hold on, just hold on a moment. Please put down the gun, don't you remember me? That's right, me. I am here to congratulate you, of course. Of all the projects I've undertaken, of all the metamorphosis' I have supervised, you are the most radiant. You understand the issue with radiance, don't you? It draws in too many moths. The flittering, fluttering wings of the FBI are flapping far too near your brilliance. Do not fret, my dear, take a hint from the sun; you must only be so bright that they never think to fly near you again.
This is an RP inspired by the various works, and some of the works inspired by the works, of Thomas Harris. The mythology of Hannibal Lecter has permeated american pop culture since it was first printed on page in 1981 until this very moment, only a few months away from the next season of the critically acclaimed television show. One must wonder, if Hannibal had such influence on the real world, where his fame was limited, what about his own? Well, I've imagined a senario, several years after Hannibal's death, where his legend has inspired younger psychopaths.
Our RP currently has three players, including myself as the GM, and a blooming cast of characters. We'd like to bring in a few more players to help flesh out the world and give it more angles. I would ask that, if this interests you in the least, you go to the RP page I've linked above. I think this RP has huge potential for exponential growth with each new player, though it is still a powerful story all on it's own.
If you have any questions feel free to PM me or head on into the OOC and catch my attention there.
I'm sure I've mentioned at some point that I don't have internet in my home, well that's currently what's stopping me from posting on here. I've been writing things all day, unfortunately none of them for this RP. I will be able to write something in the next few hours but the library is closing so I will have to wait until tomorrow. I don't want this RP to die but I also can't reinvigorate it at this very moment.
Most certainly tomorrow.
Most certainly tomorrow.
Sorry the post took an extra day, but there it is. Respond at your convenience, of course. I would like to see a sort of affirmation in the OOC as soon as you can. I'd just like to make sure you're responsive.
10:50 AM
Quantico, Virginia
Josh’s face was blank for a few short moments when Mark responded. The “Kid Detective”, as he was sometimes referred, analyzed the response, he applied personality traits to it, he attempted a profile. The question Mark poised could be taken many different ways, Josh saw it as rhetorical, even if Mark didn’t mean it to be. It didn’t matter what the answer was, Mark wanted his ambivalence in the air, open. There was also a passive-aggressiveness there, a quiet opposition. But why?
Josh went a little further, he thought of the root for these subconscious moves. Mr. Vern wasn’t an angry person, but he was frustrated. So, why the aggression? There was also a sense of sterility in the response. Perhaps Mark truly believed that all of his work could be done here, in the safety of the Headquarters, like a hermit scientist. The fact of the matter was, and Josh knew this better than anyone, cases like this were solved on the streets, with witnesses, and relatives, and lovers. People, with emotions, were how monsters were caught, not robot-people like Mark, Josh thought.
“Well, firstly, J.L says so. You gave up your right to turn down requests by him when you took that badge,” Josh joked. His right leg came up to rest on his left knee. “Secondly,” he continued, “there’s an almost completely fresh crime scene to look at. I also have some leads I want to follow up on.” Josh took the leather-bound note pad from his jacket pocket and set it on the table. He glanced over at one of the files Mark had open on the table, it was of Margery Plimpton. She was a florist in Albany, New York, decapitated by an incredibly sharp weapon. Her tongue had been removed, her shaved head inserted into her bisected torso, from which most of her internal organs had been surgically removed. A tragic case, now a little more than 3 years old. Josh had made the controversial discovery that the decapitation was done with a katana, or the legendary “samurai sword”. What has been so worrisome concerning the Buffalo Butcher murders is the expansion of its bourn. Not only did the killers range expand, but his skill sets and signatures changed as well.
The first five murders in the killers repertoire were telling of his ambition, his scholarly dedication to details. The condition of the victims were almost exactly the same (all limbs separated from the body, vital organs removed, and hung from the ceiling as they would be in a meat freezer). What stuck out to Josh was that the victims were not all the same, as serial killers seem to prefer. There were three women, one a Hispanic lady, and two men, one Black. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the synthetic definitions of a serial killer, because everything changed thereafter. The murders became more complex, more unique, and far more decadent. The first five victims reeked of a self-loathing, self-evident amateurishness, as well as a sense of wanting to escape that. And he eventually does, to the FBI’s dismay. The only way the FBI was able to connect the cases was because of J.L’s extraordinary Investigative skills. J.L noticed the similarity between the signature bisection of the victims, the exploratory splitting of the subject.
Josh wanted to know what Mark was thinking, he needed to hear anything that Mark found valuable. “So, what do you think? My profile was in there, so you know how little I know about him. Do you think you have any insight right now?” Josh placed the pen he held to the paper, he’d need to take notes while the professor spoke.
Green looked up to Wakefield as he entered the small office. He respected Wakefield’s certainty, his determination, his instinct, so sharp as it was. Green wasn’t a particularly good leader, but men like Wakefield assured that he looked like one. Mitchel was a dull witted man, a little slow, he peered through his glasses at the profiler in front of him. He pursed his lips and thought on Wakefield’s words.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Green finally said. “I assumed you’d need to do that anyway. I wanted to do a quick briefing. Please, sit.” Green fumbled with loose papers on his desk and finally produced a file. “Firstly, you’ll be on the plane with another group of FBI agents, special agents apparently. J.L is sending them to New York on very serious matters. I thought you should like to know, don’t expect any support from them. The lead investigator in this case,” there was a long pause then Green mumbled something under his breath, he glanced at the list next to his desk, “Gerald Yun. He just got here, a few hours ago. He wasn’t at the crime scene this morning, I just transferred the case over to him. Your expertise will be invaluable to him, I’m sure. Consider him your partner from now until the case is solved. Ah, speaking of…” Green motioned to the middle aged Chinese man who’d just walked up to Green’s door. He spoke briefly with Kaily and then entered.
“Morning Mitchel,” Yun said curtly, he walked past Wakefield to the coffee maker on Green’s desk and poured the contents into his mug.
“Gerald,” Green responded, he didn’t seem bothered by Gerald’s familiarity. “This is Agent Wakefield, Thomas Wakefield.”
Gerald turned from the machine toward his new partner with a tired smile, he extended his hand as he sat in the seat near Thomas, “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard about you around the office.” There were untold truths in Gerald’s words, he’d heard strange things, specifically. But, Thomas’ notoriety was far more than just his strangeness, among the gossip was stories of his Sherlock Holmes-like demeanor. The phone rang in the office and it shook the briefly quiet room, Green answered.
“Let me ask you something. How do you connect pieces of information, loose strands of subconscious behavior, and create a profile from that? Is there a secret?” Yun asked Wakefield quietly as Green spoke gently on the phone. Green interrupted before Wakefield would have a moment to respond. He held out the file he had on his desk to Gerald, signaling him to take it, then hung up the phone. “The transport to the airfield is downstairs. Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Gerald took the file from Green’s hands, stood and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll check in on the twelfth hour.”
Gerald then left the room, expecting Wakefield to be in tow. As the two made their way down the pristine hallway toward the elevators which would take them to the main lobby Gerald checked the file he’d been given. In the elevator Gerald turned to Thomas.
“What an intense case? Completely brutal. Do you think they met up to have sex? We really need to find out more about this girl. If she isn’t a prostitute, how the fuck did this happen?”
Quantico, Virginia
Josh’s face was blank for a few short moments when Mark responded. The “Kid Detective”, as he was sometimes referred, analyzed the response, he applied personality traits to it, he attempted a profile. The question Mark poised could be taken many different ways, Josh saw it as rhetorical, even if Mark didn’t mean it to be. It didn’t matter what the answer was, Mark wanted his ambivalence in the air, open. There was also a passive-aggressiveness there, a quiet opposition. But why?
Josh went a little further, he thought of the root for these subconscious moves. Mr. Vern wasn’t an angry person, but he was frustrated. So, why the aggression? There was also a sense of sterility in the response. Perhaps Mark truly believed that all of his work could be done here, in the safety of the Headquarters, like a hermit scientist. The fact of the matter was, and Josh knew this better than anyone, cases like this were solved on the streets, with witnesses, and relatives, and lovers. People, with emotions, were how monsters were caught, not robot-people like Mark, Josh thought.
“Well, firstly, J.L says so. You gave up your right to turn down requests by him when you took that badge,” Josh joked. His right leg came up to rest on his left knee. “Secondly,” he continued, “there’s an almost completely fresh crime scene to look at. I also have some leads I want to follow up on.” Josh took the leather-bound note pad from his jacket pocket and set it on the table. He glanced over at one of the files Mark had open on the table, it was of Margery Plimpton. She was a florist in Albany, New York, decapitated by an incredibly sharp weapon. Her tongue had been removed, her shaved head inserted into her bisected torso, from which most of her internal organs had been surgically removed. A tragic case, now a little more than 3 years old. Josh had made the controversial discovery that the decapitation was done with a katana, or the legendary “samurai sword”. What has been so worrisome concerning the Buffalo Butcher murders is the expansion of its bourn. Not only did the killers range expand, but his skill sets and signatures changed as well.
The first five murders in the killers repertoire were telling of his ambition, his scholarly dedication to details. The condition of the victims were almost exactly the same (all limbs separated from the body, vital organs removed, and hung from the ceiling as they would be in a meat freezer). What stuck out to Josh was that the victims were not all the same, as serial killers seem to prefer. There were three women, one a Hispanic lady, and two men, one Black. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the synthetic definitions of a serial killer, because everything changed thereafter. The murders became more complex, more unique, and far more decadent. The first five victims reeked of a self-loathing, self-evident amateurishness, as well as a sense of wanting to escape that. And he eventually does, to the FBI’s dismay. The only way the FBI was able to connect the cases was because of J.L’s extraordinary Investigative skills. J.L noticed the similarity between the signature bisection of the victims, the exploratory splitting of the subject.
Josh wanted to know what Mark was thinking, he needed to hear anything that Mark found valuable. “So, what do you think? My profile was in there, so you know how little I know about him. Do you think you have any insight right now?” Josh placed the pen he held to the paper, he’d need to take notes while the professor spoke.
Green looked up to Wakefield as he entered the small office. He respected Wakefield’s certainty, his determination, his instinct, so sharp as it was. Green wasn’t a particularly good leader, but men like Wakefield assured that he looked like one. Mitchel was a dull witted man, a little slow, he peered through his glasses at the profiler in front of him. He pursed his lips and thought on Wakefield’s words.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Green finally said. “I assumed you’d need to do that anyway. I wanted to do a quick briefing. Please, sit.” Green fumbled with loose papers on his desk and finally produced a file. “Firstly, you’ll be on the plane with another group of FBI agents, special agents apparently. J.L is sending them to New York on very serious matters. I thought you should like to know, don’t expect any support from them. The lead investigator in this case,” there was a long pause then Green mumbled something under his breath, he glanced at the list next to his desk, “Gerald Yun. He just got here, a few hours ago. He wasn’t at the crime scene this morning, I just transferred the case over to him. Your expertise will be invaluable to him, I’m sure. Consider him your partner from now until the case is solved. Ah, speaking of…” Green motioned to the middle aged Chinese man who’d just walked up to Green’s door. He spoke briefly with Kaily and then entered.
“Morning Mitchel,” Yun said curtly, he walked past Wakefield to the coffee maker on Green’s desk and poured the contents into his mug.
“Gerald,” Green responded, he didn’t seem bothered by Gerald’s familiarity. “This is Agent Wakefield, Thomas Wakefield.”
Gerald turned from the machine toward his new partner with a tired smile, he extended his hand as he sat in the seat near Thomas, “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard about you around the office.” There were untold truths in Gerald’s words, he’d heard strange things, specifically. But, Thomas’ notoriety was far more than just his strangeness, among the gossip was stories of his Sherlock Holmes-like demeanor. The phone rang in the office and it shook the briefly quiet room, Green answered.
“Let me ask you something. How do you connect pieces of information, loose strands of subconscious behavior, and create a profile from that? Is there a secret?” Yun asked Wakefield quietly as Green spoke gently on the phone. Green interrupted before Wakefield would have a moment to respond. He held out the file he had on his desk to Gerald, signaling him to take it, then hung up the phone. “The transport to the airfield is downstairs. Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Gerald took the file from Green’s hands, stood and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll check in on the twelfth hour.”
Gerald then left the room, expecting Wakefield to be in tow. As the two made their way down the pristine hallway toward the elevators which would take them to the main lobby Gerald checked the file he’d been given. In the elevator Gerald turned to Thomas.
“What an intense case? Completely brutal. Do you think they met up to have sex? We really need to find out more about this girl. If she isn’t a prostitute, how the fuck did this happen?”
I'm delaying my post until tomorrow. These past few days have not allowed for any posting whatsoever.
Splendid post, Bane.
Sorry for the wait, Dredigan, I'm waiting until tomorrow to post. Summer time shenanigasare ensuing.
Sorry for the wait, Dredigan, I'm waiting until tomorrow to post. Summer time shenanigasare ensuing.
© 2007-2026