Post by alan j. spacer on May 1, 2012 2:21:03 GMT -5
ALAN JAMES SPACER
”Taaaake ooon meeee, (take on me), taaaake meee oooon.”
| B A S I C S |
Name Alan James Spacer
Nicknames
PB Aaron Eckhart
Age 36 Years [November 24th, 1975]
Sex Male
Occupation Private Investigator.
Hometown Boston, MA.| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
Alan is an upbeat person, the kind of guy you find drumming on his table in restaurants and singing 'Jukebox Hero' while he waits for his meal. Momentum is the keyword to his personality, he likes to keep things moving and tend to hurry to the next step. Because he's optimistic, he doesn't mind when his wallet starts getting light, and he's accustomed to living on a thin budget. Alan encourages the best in people and is the type of friendly neighbor who helps out wherever he can, whether it's helping push someone's car along or sparing change for the homeless. Although constantly at odds with his father - or maybe because of it - he is highly sentimental and openly celebrates the element of family. Making the best of a situation is his M.O.
It's difficult to put him down, but it does happen from time to time. Working in homicide (and law enforcement in general) gave him a front row seat to the dark side of humanity. Alan is often bothered that people aren't always as good as he wants them to be. Second chances factor in as one of his core beliefs, making Alan forgiving to a fault. Alan is often conflicted between his desire to have faith in people and his duty to seek the truth. Believing in a karmic scale, he tries to do as much good as those around him do evil. When all else fails he's heavily reliant on the people around him to restore his faith, although he doesn't express this need openly.
Alan's heart condition is a big source of concern for him, whether it'll lead to any other issues, whether it could pass on problems to any children he has. Worrying is one of the things Alan hates most, and he frequently tries to block out these concerns or ignore them altogether and acts as if his condition didn't exist. Alan is uncomfortable discussing his heart, and covers up evidence of his weakness. Apart from that he deals with other safety concerns related to his work, and more often than not he deals using humor. Alan acts very casual with his job, which makes him a somewhat likable employee. He's prone to indulging film noir misconceptions about his profession.
Strengths:
-Marksman, practices with his firearms on a frequent basis.
-Knowledge of security systems, both physical and cyber.
-Can bridge flawlessly when shuffling cards.
-Resilient optimism.
-Attention to detail.
-Social skills.
Weaknesses:
-Disregard for health
-Sloppy
-Ignores personal problems.
-Former smoker.
Likes: Pizza, baseball, meat pies, casinos, carnival rides, movies (comedy and westerns), board games.
Dislikes: Modern art, corpses, large cars, country living, cabbage, waiting in lines.
| H I S T O R Y |
Born in Boston to Jason Spacer and Daria Wilhelm, unmarried at the time but quickly joined in matrimony afterward. Jason was a sales manager working for Chevrolet and Daria was a secretary working for the police force, a sort of dead-end job that had stemmed from her desire to be an investigator. Alan was brought up on a modest budget, because of his frugal father more than a financial necessity. As a kid he rarely had excess of anything and he learned to appreciate what he had. Alan was a popular leader amongst the neighborhood kids, because he was always the one looking for the next thing to do. From the start he'd planned on being a baseball star, batting in runs for the New York Yankees, instead of the hometown favorite. Baseball teams were the start of Alan's realization that he and his dad would never agree on anything. Alan went through most of middle-school with this dream, never really keying into his mom's subtle hints at law enforcement.
During high-school Alan suffered a heart-attack brought about by a dormant case of arrhythmia. His heart condition left his physical limits in tatters, with training he was still able to function normally and even perform most strenuous activities the same as anyone else. All the same, he quit baseball and started looking at other alternatives for his life. The obvious path was opened by his mother who had by then worked her way slightly up the police ladder and encouraged his growing interest. Sure enough towards the end of his high-school career he was looking into community service projects and researching internships in the law enforcement career path. During this time his family moved to Florida, where he learned Spanish and earned a bachelor's degree in criminology.
Finishing up his bachelors, Alan did the required tests and soon found himself as an average cop running patrols. Eventually he would work his way up, becoming a detective working homicide cases. After a year of grizzly cases Alan was sufficiently scarred, leaving homicide and eventually quitting the force altogether, another decision his dad argued on. After about a year taking whatever jobs came his way he applied for a license in private investigation. Alan has lived as a P.I. ever since, acquiring an office space conveniently located beneath his apartment complex and still doing work with the police due to his former contacts and experience in homicide. Alan has been a private investigator for the past four years, primarily working domestic cases and insurance fraud.| A P P E A R A N C E |
Alan is six feet tall, with a relatively thin build. He's got medium-length wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. His smile is wide, stretching across most of his face. While he's not one to fret about posture he usually stands straight, while lurching or leaning whilst seated. When at rest Alan keeps his hands in his pockets, whilst walking he takes quick strides rather than long ones often giving the impression of rushing to his destination. Most of the time he wears a suit or other business-casual attire, regardless of the occasion he wears collared shirts almost exclusively. Not to mention the aviators that are practically glued to his face. That said, he keeps a trench coat and a fedora in his office for those times when noir fashion is a must to maintain his cover.
| E X T R A S |
Alan has a concealed weapons permit and carries two weapons, a .45 caliber Ruger handgun, and a snub-nosed S&W Model 60 .38 caliber revolver. He drives a beige 1978 Camaro, in the middle of restoration.| S K I L L S |
“This story starts outside a house at nine A.M., a small, average place. The kind of home where you set up your mother-in-law when your wife decides she's too frail to live so far away. A nice joint, but nothing to be proud of. I'd been up all night at that point, waiting for something, anything to happen. There wasn't so much as a whisper in the neighborhood, not even any snob neighbors poking their noses out to see if their lawn's an inch out of shape yet. I was tired, and working up one hell of a head-ache, but my gut ached. Somethin' was up, and I wasn't leaving until it came back down to Earth. It had been so long without sleep, I even started talking to myself.”
Alan ceased watching the house across the street. Thumping his head roughly against the headrest of his car, a beige 1978 Camaro, mid-restoration. A digital camera with a long lens sat on the passenger seat beside him, amidst a pile of discarded candy wrappers and empty bags of chips. If this wasn't the glorious scene that came to mind when you thought of surveillance, you'd seen too many movies. Alan wasn't exempt from that grouping either. This was why he hated accepting these sorts of cases, there just wasn't any upside to sitting outside a guy's house all day. Not for the first time he wondered if he even had the right address.
“You're killing me, Jan.” he said loudly, referring to his employer, punching the radio and adjusting the volume back down to a dull roar after a wince of pain. Eventually he began to sing along, “Day after day I'm more confused, bowowuhh,” he added the guitar noises crudely. “Yet I look for the light, in the pouring rain!”
Halfway between feeling embarrassed and feeling like he needed to push his singing to the next level, Alan noticed a spot of movement across the street. Wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't glanced casually that direction mid note. “Gimme the beat boys, and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock and roll an- Ah shit, he's onto me isn't he.” Alan thought out loud, abruptly silencing the radio as he stared at the blinds he'd seen pushed open for just a second in the window of the house. There was no more movement.
Alan swore, haphazardly reaching into the glove box and grabbing a smaller camera he could slip into the pocket of his slacks. “Please don't be a runner...” he prayed, stepping out of the car as casually as he could and making his way towards the house. Unfortunately he and God both knew there wasn't a prayer in the world that could've saved him the hassle that would soon follow.
| P L A Y E R |
Name Kierian G. Bryant
Age 18
Gender M
How you found us I came from the future, where this website is the basis for all social interaction.
Who else do you play?
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