Post by effinfitz on Jul 22, 2012 13:48:09 GMT -8
((Employee snapshots are just short write-ups of the otherwise faceless Ægir employees that the team might interact with. Go ahead, use 'em! Or just soak up the lore.))
BORN 5/13/1955 on the front porch of his grandparents' house in Franklin, Alabama. Not that Franklin, Alabama, the other -- no, no, THAT one. Yes.
LEFT FRANKLIN, and family, 8/27/1973.
MARRIED 9/12/1973. New family. That was fast.
EMPLOYED 10/2/1973. Starts nice, generally succesful career as fireman. Asks too many questions. Amateur mistake. Still, friendly, so his friends forgive him. Thinks deep thoughts, though, and they carry him to dark, scary places.
BRIEF INTERRUPTION 05/15/1974. Son born. Ray of sunshine, until first words are "ma-ma."
ARRIVES at dark, scary places in 08/26/1981. Transplants entire family so that he might attend Mount Sinai School of Medicine. Learns that academics are not his strong suit. Still, by the grace of the ROTC program and his wife's willingness to do neighbors' laundry, is able to study constantly and not fall back on after-hours employment. Graduates with thoroughly average grades.
DISCOVERS, while doing rounds at a Veterans' Affairs hospital, how bad Post-Traumatic Stress can get. Studies this. Develops an interest. Turns his career around 180 degrees to become a psychologist, now, rather than a doctor. Military supports this. Military is very supportive of things that keep the military running.
GETS his Psy.D. and his promotion to Major. Things are looking good.
DEPLOYED to the Persian Gulf War. His request. Had heard rumors about chemical and biological weapons, wanted to see if the psychological effects could be treated.
FINDINGS? Madness may be a survival trait in wartime.
ADOPTS a stunning survival trait throughout said wartime.
MEDICALLY DISCHARGED 01/01/1991. Happy new year. Go home. See your family. Don't write.
WRITES TOO MUCH. The Eye sees. The Eye watches.
HOME PRACTICE. Creates, runs a small practice in Oakland, California. Tries to help veterans. Mostly shown children of worried parents who feared drugs, gangs, and evil cult activity because their child would rather watch late-night cartoons than listen to them. Once met a young girl who said she spoke to ghosts. The ghosts hit her back. The Eye saw. Sent a pamphlet. He forwarded it. The Eye was pleased to see he could be trained.
NEW PATIENTS. The Eye first sends a stressed out agent seeing monsters everywhere. Then an overworked dataminer who couldn't stop hearing hypertext. Then an executive who'd developed a sudden allergy to being constantly watched. CONSTANTLY. Dr. Irving adapts well to the new, strange, adult patients. Adapts even better to high rate of pay. More patients come. Family sees him less often. Eye sees him.
CONSTANTLY.
Dr. Irving doesn't look like a combat vet so much as an ex-high school football player who hasn't seen the gym since graduating. 5'11" and closer to 300 pounds than 200, with curly hair that he neglects to take to the barber often enough and a bald spot that's just beginning to show. His suits are cheaper than he could easily afford, and don't fit quite right, and far too many ties in his collection have faded spots where he tried to get the steak sauce out.
Dr. Irving's really a Nice Guy, who made the mistake of trying to be a hero and going to Not Nice Places that, one after another, chewed him up and spit him out. He's now safe from field duty, though fully cleared and authorized to hear about it. He doesn't envy the newest generation of heroes their assignments. He does envy their ability to weather them so well, but he won't let that interfere with his duties.
His office is on the 18th floor, overlooking the river, and on the far side from the Starbucks on that level. It has thicker walls than most, for privacy, but features the same marble-and-chrome color scheme that dominates the rest of the building. The furniture, while comfortable, is black leather and steel and looks like it came from an overpriced Ikea. He has a great surround sound setup in his office, and he has every smooth jazz and soul station in broadcasting range saved to his presets. He mutes this when he's with a patient, but the waiting room out front keeps it playing softly throughout all hours. Pictures of his son at various ages line his desk. None of them feature his wife.
The waiting room itself is slightly larger than the office itself, and has a staff of two receptionists / secretaries, working alternating shifts. These two young ladies are one of the stronger draws for many of the employees: even if they weren't hired for their looks, they certainly aren't in any danger of being fired for ugliness.
Using in-game, or, RP notes.
I'd originally intended for the doctor to be an alt, but couldn't get the right feel for him in an active role. So, now he's just available off-screen in the event anyone ever wants to use him or talk to him.
Dr. Robert Irving is Ægir's Mental Health specialist. All of Ægir's employees in the Solvall are required to have a "stress assessment" at least once a year, depending on the person's condition and position. And while keeping stress manageable is a fine business concern, the company's Illuminati Sponsors are far more worried about any potential lapses in loyalty. Irving uses specific words in his patient notes, and the redflags are automatically picked up by spyware in his computer and routed to the Labyrinth.
Friendly, yes? This function isn't generally known. It's unlikely that Seanne or Mila are aware of it. Jean probably does. Dr. Irving certainly does not.
The doctor's a generally friendly guy. He's charged into burning buildings, helped found the Journal of Black Psychology, seen war-crazed vets call out to soundless names that bubbled up from the depths of burning oilfields, and took the news of his wife affair (largely in the form of: "I'm pregnant") with admirable calm and panache.
She lives in California now. It helps his calm to no end.
The good doctor is not a die-hard Illuminati loyalist, but he's committed to his work. It's about al he has going for him now besides his online poker games, and he's gotta get the money for that some way or another. His commitment to his patients is slightly less strong, but he does understand stress in all its myriad forms. He has a special sympathy for people who put their ass on the line to save the world from commies, terrorists, or eldritch horrors from outer space.
No matter how grudgingly.
As an aside, the two secretaries are also Lumie plants. far from field agents, they're the ones that make sure all relevant info gets forwarded to the Labyrinth. They're also entrusted with making sure Dr. Irving stays operationally sane, and do all the little things he seems to neglect himself. Like running for his dry cleaning, ordering a meatball sub, and reminding him when it's a weekday.
BORN 5/13/1955 on the front porch of his grandparents' house in Franklin, Alabama. Not that Franklin, Alabama, the other -- no, no, THAT one. Yes.
LEFT FRANKLIN, and family, 8/27/1973.
MARRIED 9/12/1973. New family. That was fast.
EMPLOYED 10/2/1973. Starts nice, generally succesful career as fireman. Asks too many questions. Amateur mistake. Still, friendly, so his friends forgive him. Thinks deep thoughts, though, and they carry him to dark, scary places.
BRIEF INTERRUPTION 05/15/1974. Son born. Ray of sunshine, until first words are "ma-ma."
ARRIVES at dark, scary places in 08/26/1981. Transplants entire family so that he might attend Mount Sinai School of Medicine. Learns that academics are not his strong suit. Still, by the grace of the ROTC program and his wife's willingness to do neighbors' laundry, is able to study constantly and not fall back on after-hours employment. Graduates with thoroughly average grades.
DISCOVERS, while doing rounds at a Veterans' Affairs hospital, how bad Post-Traumatic Stress can get. Studies this. Develops an interest. Turns his career around 180 degrees to become a psychologist, now, rather than a doctor. Military supports this. Military is very supportive of things that keep the military running.
GETS his Psy.D. and his promotion to Major. Things are looking good.
DEPLOYED to the Persian Gulf War. His request. Had heard rumors about chemical and biological weapons, wanted to see if the psychological effects could be treated.
FINDINGS? Madness may be a survival trait in wartime.
ADOPTS a stunning survival trait throughout said wartime.
MEDICALLY DISCHARGED 01/01/1991. Happy new year. Go home. See your family. Don't write.
WRITES TOO MUCH. The Eye sees. The Eye watches.
HOME PRACTICE. Creates, runs a small practice in Oakland, California. Tries to help veterans. Mostly shown children of worried parents who feared drugs, gangs, and evil cult activity because their child would rather watch late-night cartoons than listen to them. Once met a young girl who said she spoke to ghosts. The ghosts hit her back. The Eye saw. Sent a pamphlet. He forwarded it. The Eye was pleased to see he could be trained.
NEW PATIENTS. The Eye first sends a stressed out agent seeing monsters everywhere. Then an overworked dataminer who couldn't stop hearing hypertext. Then an executive who'd developed a sudden allergy to being constantly watched. CONSTANTLY. Dr. Irving adapts well to the new, strange, adult patients. Adapts even better to high rate of pay. More patients come. Family sees him less often. Eye sees him.
CONSTANTLY.
Dr. Irving doesn't look like a combat vet so much as an ex-high school football player who hasn't seen the gym since graduating. 5'11" and closer to 300 pounds than 200, with curly hair that he neglects to take to the barber often enough and a bald spot that's just beginning to show. His suits are cheaper than he could easily afford, and don't fit quite right, and far too many ties in his collection have faded spots where he tried to get the steak sauce out.
Dr. Irving's really a Nice Guy, who made the mistake of trying to be a hero and going to Not Nice Places that, one after another, chewed him up and spit him out. He's now safe from field duty, though fully cleared and authorized to hear about it. He doesn't envy the newest generation of heroes their assignments. He does envy their ability to weather them so well, but he won't let that interfere with his duties.
His office is on the 18th floor, overlooking the river, and on the far side from the Starbucks on that level. It has thicker walls than most, for privacy, but features the same marble-and-chrome color scheme that dominates the rest of the building. The furniture, while comfortable, is black leather and steel and looks like it came from an overpriced Ikea. He has a great surround sound setup in his office, and he has every smooth jazz and soul station in broadcasting range saved to his presets. He mutes this when he's with a patient, but the waiting room out front keeps it playing softly throughout all hours. Pictures of his son at various ages line his desk. None of them feature his wife.
The waiting room itself is slightly larger than the office itself, and has a staff of two receptionists / secretaries, working alternating shifts. These two young ladies are one of the stronger draws for many of the employees: even if they weren't hired for their looks, they certainly aren't in any danger of being fired for ugliness.
Using in-game, or, RP notes.
I'd originally intended for the doctor to be an alt, but couldn't get the right feel for him in an active role. So, now he's just available off-screen in the event anyone ever wants to use him or talk to him.
Dr. Robert Irving is Ægir's Mental Health specialist. All of Ægir's employees in the Solvall are required to have a "stress assessment" at least once a year, depending on the person's condition and position. And while keeping stress manageable is a fine business concern, the company's Illuminati Sponsors are far more worried about any potential lapses in loyalty. Irving uses specific words in his patient notes, and the redflags are automatically picked up by spyware in his computer and routed to the Labyrinth.
Friendly, yes? This function isn't generally known. It's unlikely that Seanne or Mila are aware of it. Jean probably does. Dr. Irving certainly does not.
The doctor's a generally friendly guy. He's charged into burning buildings, helped found the Journal of Black Psychology, seen war-crazed vets call out to soundless names that bubbled up from the depths of burning oilfields, and took the news of his wife affair (largely in the form of: "I'm pregnant") with admirable calm and panache.
She lives in California now. It helps his calm to no end.
The good doctor is not a die-hard Illuminati loyalist, but he's committed to his work. It's about al he has going for him now besides his online poker games, and he's gotta get the money for that some way or another. His commitment to his patients is slightly less strong, but he does understand stress in all its myriad forms. He has a special sympathy for people who put their ass on the line to save the world from commies, terrorists, or eldritch horrors from outer space.
No matter how grudgingly.
As an aside, the two secretaries are also Lumie plants. far from field agents, they're the ones that make sure all relevant info gets forwarded to the Labyrinth. They're also entrusted with making sure Dr. Irving stays operationally sane, and do all the little things he seems to neglect himself. Like running for his dry cleaning, ordering a meatball sub, and reminding him when it's a weekday.