realityshifted Application
For the purposes of this application, "dick" means "detective". Please stop snickering.
Player Name: MJ
Player LJ: electric_girl
Email and/or AIM: naughtygirlslikepolka@gmail.com
Timezone: EST
Other Characters:
d1 | The Tenth Doctor
d3 | Martha Jones, MD
Character: Sam Spade
Series/Fandom: The Maltese Falcon (1941 remake)
Deviance: d1
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Canon Used: The Maltese Falcon, 1941
Appearance:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/cb/Humphrey_Bogart_by_Karsh_(Library_and_Archives_Canada).jpg/220px-Humphrey_Bogart_by_Karsh_(Library_and_Archives_Canada).jpg
Psychology: To say Sam Spade is a jaded man is to say that ice is cold or that bullets hurt. Sam's lived his life the only way he knows how: hard. Growing up on the streets of San Francisco, he saw terrible things happen to good people, watched cops let criminals go because they had the right amount of money, and he vowed he'd never let that sort of thing happen to him. He'd be honest, no matter what it cost him.
Now, the definition of "honest" isn't as strict for Sam as it is for other people. He likes his cigars expensive and his women unavaliable, and he doesn't have a problem with dancing around the truth. He spent the first five years of his partnership with Miles Archer having a torrid affair with his wife, Iva, though Miles' untimely death made her suddenly avaliable and therefore no longer interesting. Effie, his loyal secretary, has often theorized to Sam that his problem with women is something from his youth, that he was burned very badly by a woman he loved. Truth be told, the only woman Sam's ever loved was Brigid (the broad who betrayed him), and the only woman he's ever respected was Effie (but she's smart enough to be a man).
Sam has very modern thoughts when it comes to women. No, he doesn't believe they should be in a man's line of work, but if more women are like Effie, well, they can get out of the kitchen and do more helping. So long as they stay out of his way and don't try to put any strings on him.
Sam's greatest love is his work. He loves it not for the mystery, not for the adventure, but for the power in knocking someone down who thought they wouldn't get caught. He's put all of himself into being a one-man crime destroyer, learning boxing and lockpicking and psychology in order to tell down the toughest of criminals. He needs to clean up the streets, he needs to know the world is a little better.
But, to keep his reputation intact, he slides all of these needs under a thick layer of cynicism and a need for money. Sam doesn't need money (he likes it, but he's really happy so long as he has a bag of tabbacco and a glass of scotch), he needs to win. But the way he sees it, criminals respond to a crooked dick, so he'll show them what they want to see, and then knock them down when their back is turned.
Other Skills/Abilities:
Excellent face-reader and psychoanalyst. He uses these skills in the field when terrorizing interrogating possible suspects and witnesses. He also uses them on dames in the bar to give them the impression he's listening when he's really not. He also knows when someone is following him and how to avoid a tail.
Lockpicking, hot-wiring cars pre-1941. Sam's no engineer, but he does have the skills of his targets.
Boxing/fistfighting. He has no training, but Sam is tough enough and quick enough to win a fight. He's also stubborn enough to stay consious until he's back in the winning. He's a do or die personality and he won't stop until he's won.
Guns. Sam is able to handle and fire most handguns. He just doesn't like them.
Other Weaknesses:
He has no poker face. Generally, this would be considered a real fault for Sam's line of work, but he makes up for his inability to hide his emotion by saying and acting exactly how he should. This can get him into considerable trouble when he finishes off a drugged scotch in order to gain the trust of a suspect, only to end up out cold for hours.
Romance. Sam falls in love with people he can't have and he'll often torture himself over this. He very nearly left his agency after Brigid, but he knew that would mean people like her had won. He also wasn't lying when he told her he'd wait for her, and he waits to know the sentence for her crime.
History:
Sam grew up in San Francisco, living a modest life in the city. He worked for a local street gang, because that was the sort of thing one had to do to survive life in the city. By the time he turned 9, he saw a girl being beaten by one of the gang members for being related to an enemy of the gang. He couldn't fight back physically, but he spent the next week gathering enough evidence to turn the gang in to the police. It was foulproof, but the gang bought out the cop he gave the information to, then turned on him.
When Sam was 16, he took an after-school job with a private dick who liked his style and tenacity. He showed Sam the ropes of being a detective, and afterwards helped get Sam into the right schools to go forward with his career. Sam became known through the San Francisco police department for his efficiency and bad attitude. But, as a new dick on the streets, he found it nearly impossible to get cases on his own, so he paired up with a well-known client-pleaser, Miles Archer. Miles was eighteen levels of stupid, but he was seasoned enough to get the job done and just smart enough to stay out of Sam's way. Sam didn't like Miles from the moment he first laid eyes on him, but they worked well professionally. In their off-hours, Sam maintained a long-standing place in Iva's bed and felt no remorse (because Miles was probably off with one of their clients).
Real trouble came for Sam when he met Brigid, a tough dame with a temper who wasn't as easy to figure out as most women. He fell truly in love with her, even if he was loathe to admit it to anyone. Turning her in for murdering Miles and setting the events in motion for two more murders was the hardest thing Sam ever did, but if he let her go or ran away with her like he wanted, he'd be no better than the cop who let the street gang go.
Now, Sam works at Sam Spade Detective Agency, taking cases for $25 a day, plus expenses. He rolls his own cigarettes and lives life his own way. Period.
Canon Point:
Several weeks after the events of the Maltese Falcon.
Reality Description:
San Francisco, 1941. It's a good time, it's a hard time, it's an all-or-nothing time. Sam's agency is located in the good part of town, he doesn't want to hire people who can't pay their bills and he doesn't want his business looked through. That being said, he knows all about the bad part of town.
First Person Speaking Sample:
[spins around, hands balled into fists] All right, who's there? Where'd that street shop go?
Oh, I see. Slipped me a mickey at my last meetup with Dollface, didn't you? Well, I won't have it, and I won't believe it! Tell me where I am!
[afer a few moments, he calms himself and lets out a laugh] You know, I've heard a lot about movie magic, but you can really throw a guy, putting him in a place like this without warning. So, why don't you come out, we'll discuss this like men.
Third Person Writing Sample:
It was a rainy night in San Francisco, but that wasn't why the pavement in front of the Grebardo's estate was wet. The blood dripped, thick and red, down the gutters, cleaning away precious evidence. Evidence Sam was going to need if he was going to crack this case.
"Busy evening, Spade?" Oh, it was that cop, was it? The one who didn't think about tarp or protecting evidence in the last case and didn't think it would be important now, until the rain started and all the evidence started washing away. Sam wasn't too fond of dumb cops, but the more he worked with the law, the more he seemed to find them. Didn't they have a place on Wall Street for that level of stupid.
"I've had slower," Sam replied, shrugging in his trenchcoat. His fedora kept the rain out of his eyes as he looked down at the man bleeding into the street. "Who was the last person to see the body?"
"Now, you know I can't give you that information, Sam," the cop said.
Sam scowled and ground his teeth. "I'm not here for my health, Bud, I'm here to solve a case. If you wanna tell this man's wife that her $25 a day isn't worth my time, you better tell her now, before the bills start racking up. But if you want me to do my job, then you're gonna have to be straight with me."
The cop looked like he was about to open his mouth again, so Sam cut him off. "I don't need your excuses, and I don't need you wasting my time. If you'd thought to protect the evidence here, I'd be able to take this case on my own, but seeing as nothing's been done to protect the body, I'm losing the only clues I'll get the longer you make me wait. So tell me, now. Who was the last person to see this man alive?"
Did you read the rules?
Naturalement.
Player Name: MJ
Player LJ: electric_girl
Email and/or AIM: naughtygirlslikepolka@gmail.com
Timezone: EST
Other Characters:
d1 | The Tenth Doctor
d3 | Martha Jones, MD
Character: Sam Spade
Series/Fandom: The Maltese Falcon (1941 remake)
Deviance: d1
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Canon Used: The Maltese Falcon, 1941
Appearance:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/cb/Humphrey_Bogart_by_Karsh_(Library_and_Archives_Canada).jpg/220px-Humphrey_Bogart_by_Karsh_(Library_and_Archives_Canada).jpg
.jpg/220px-Humphrey_Bogart_by_Karsh_(Library_and_Archives_Canada).jpg){kind=link}
Psychology: To say Sam Spade is a jaded man is to say that ice is cold or that bullets hurt. Sam's lived his life the only way he knows how: hard. Growing up on the streets of San Francisco, he saw terrible things happen to good people, watched cops let criminals go because they had the right amount of money, and he vowed he'd never let that sort of thing happen to him. He'd be honest, no matter what it cost him.
Now, the definition of "honest" isn't as strict for Sam as it is for other people. He likes his cigars expensive and his women unavaliable, and he doesn't have a problem with dancing around the truth. He spent the first five years of his partnership with Miles Archer having a torrid affair with his wife, Iva, though Miles' untimely death made her suddenly avaliable and therefore no longer interesting. Effie, his loyal secretary, has often theorized to Sam that his problem with women is something from his youth, that he was burned very badly by a woman he loved. Truth be told, the only woman Sam's ever loved was Brigid (the broad who betrayed him), and the only woman he's ever respected was Effie (but she's smart enough to be a man).
Sam has very modern thoughts when it comes to women. No, he doesn't believe they should be in a man's line of work, but if more women are like Effie, well, they can get out of the kitchen and do more helping. So long as they stay out of his way and don't try to put any strings on him.
Sam's greatest love is his work. He loves it not for the mystery, not for the adventure, but for the power in knocking someone down who thought they wouldn't get caught. He's put all of himself into being a one-man crime destroyer, learning boxing and lockpicking and psychology in order to tell down the toughest of criminals. He needs to clean up the streets, he needs to know the world is a little better.
But, to keep his reputation intact, he slides all of these needs under a thick layer of cynicism and a need for money. Sam doesn't need money (he likes it, but he's really happy so long as he has a bag of tabbacco and a glass of scotch), he needs to win. But the way he sees it, criminals respond to a crooked dick, so he'll show them what they want to see, and then knock them down when their back is turned.
Other Skills/Abilities:
Excellent face-reader and psychoanalyst. He uses these skills in the field when terrorizing interrogating possible suspects and witnesses. He also uses them on dames in the bar to give them the impression he's listening when he's really not. He also knows when someone is following him and how to avoid a tail.
Lockpicking, hot-wiring cars pre-1941. Sam's no engineer, but he does have the skills of his targets.
Boxing/fistfighting. He has no training, but Sam is tough enough and quick enough to win a fight. He's also stubborn enough to stay consious until he's back in the winning. He's a do or die personality and he won't stop until he's won.
Guns. Sam is able to handle and fire most handguns. He just doesn't like them.
Other Weaknesses:
He has no poker face. Generally, this would be considered a real fault for Sam's line of work, but he makes up for his inability to hide his emotion by saying and acting exactly how he should. This can get him into considerable trouble when he finishes off a drugged scotch in order to gain the trust of a suspect, only to end up out cold for hours.
Romance. Sam falls in love with people he can't have and he'll often torture himself over this. He very nearly left his agency after Brigid, but he knew that would mean people like her had won. He also wasn't lying when he told her he'd wait for her, and he waits to know the sentence for her crime.
History:
Sam grew up in San Francisco, living a modest life in the city. He worked for a local street gang, because that was the sort of thing one had to do to survive life in the city. By the time he turned 9, he saw a girl being beaten by one of the gang members for being related to an enemy of the gang. He couldn't fight back physically, but he spent the next week gathering enough evidence to turn the gang in to the police. It was foulproof, but the gang bought out the cop he gave the information to, then turned on him.
When Sam was 16, he took an after-school job with a private dick who liked his style and tenacity. He showed Sam the ropes of being a detective, and afterwards helped get Sam into the right schools to go forward with his career. Sam became known through the San Francisco police department for his efficiency and bad attitude. But, as a new dick on the streets, he found it nearly impossible to get cases on his own, so he paired up with a well-known client-pleaser, Miles Archer. Miles was eighteen levels of stupid, but he was seasoned enough to get the job done and just smart enough to stay out of Sam's way. Sam didn't like Miles from the moment he first laid eyes on him, but they worked well professionally. In their off-hours, Sam maintained a long-standing place in Iva's bed and felt no remorse (because Miles was probably off with one of their clients).
Real trouble came for Sam when he met Brigid, a tough dame with a temper who wasn't as easy to figure out as most women. He fell truly in love with her, even if he was loathe to admit it to anyone. Turning her in for murdering Miles and setting the events in motion for two more murders was the hardest thing Sam ever did, but if he let her go or ran away with her like he wanted, he'd be no better than the cop who let the street gang go.
Now, Sam works at Sam Spade Detective Agency, taking cases for $25 a day, plus expenses. He rolls his own cigarettes and lives life his own way. Period.
Canon Point:
Several weeks after the events of the Maltese Falcon.
Reality Description:
San Francisco, 1941. It's a good time, it's a hard time, it's an all-or-nothing time. Sam's agency is located in the good part of town, he doesn't want to hire people who can't pay their bills and he doesn't want his business looked through. That being said, he knows all about the bad part of town.
First Person Speaking Sample:
[spins around, hands balled into fists] All right, who's there? Where'd that street shop go?
Oh, I see. Slipped me a mickey at my last meetup with Dollface, didn't you? Well, I won't have it, and I won't believe it! Tell me where I am!
[afer a few moments, he calms himself and lets out a laugh] You know, I've heard a lot about movie magic, but you can really throw a guy, putting him in a place like this without warning. So, why don't you come out, we'll discuss this like men.
Third Person Writing Sample:
It was a rainy night in San Francisco, but that wasn't why the pavement in front of the Grebardo's estate was wet. The blood dripped, thick and red, down the gutters, cleaning away precious evidence. Evidence Sam was going to need if he was going to crack this case.
"Busy evening, Spade?" Oh, it was that cop, was it? The one who didn't think about tarp or protecting evidence in the last case and didn't think it would be important now, until the rain started and all the evidence started washing away. Sam wasn't too fond of dumb cops, but the more he worked with the law, the more he seemed to find them. Didn't they have a place on Wall Street for that level of stupid.
"I've had slower," Sam replied, shrugging in his trenchcoat. His fedora kept the rain out of his eyes as he looked down at the man bleeding into the street. "Who was the last person to see the body?"
"Now, you know I can't give you that information, Sam," the cop said.
Sam scowled and ground his teeth. "I'm not here for my health, Bud, I'm here to solve a case. If you wanna tell this man's wife that her $25 a day isn't worth my time, you better tell her now, before the bills start racking up. But if you want me to do my job, then you're gonna have to be straight with me."
The cop looked like he was about to open his mouth again, so Sam cut him off. "I don't need your excuses, and I don't need you wasting my time. If you'd thought to protect the evidence here, I'd be able to take this case on my own, but seeing as nothing's been done to protect the body, I'm losing the only clues I'll get the longer you make me wait. So tell me, now. Who was the last person to see this man alive?"
Did you read the rules?
Naturalement.