Post by Remy Christian on Jun 4, 2011 17:42:14 GMT -5
Remy Christian
Full Name- Remy Jamison Christian
Nicknames- Occasionally goes by "RJ"
Gender- Male
Occupation- Medicinal chemist and university professor
Age- 37
Date of Birth- 7 August 1973
Sexual Orientation- Heterosexual
Location- Brooklyn
Faction- Scientists
Celebrity Claim- Baker, Simon
What should we call you?- Rayneeeeeh
Play anyone else?- Nope.
Have You Read the Rules?- Nuh man. Mi naah like di zombies. Dem a creep mi out.
Personality-
Once, Remy would have been described as "pleasant" and "laid-back," and those characteristics can still be seen in him at times. Occasionally, he can be warm, and he is seldom rude without cause. At his best, he is funny, comfortably charming, and affectionate. He is trustworthy, and would find it difficult to turn his back on a friend.
But time, especially recent days, has made him cynical and cold, and at times his demeanor makes him unapproachable. There is something about his personality that makes him seem as though he is always on the verge of snapping, but never quite does. While he usually keeps his emotions in check, sometimes they make him unstable, prone to outbursts of anger or violence, or to sudden bouts of obsessive-compulsive disorder, when everything begins to look out-of-order to him and he has to go over everything multiple times, making sure the doors are locked, making sure his guns are clean and working. Anyone who disturbs him when he is in such a mood is likely to be shouted at or maimed.
Still, despite his instability and cynicism, he does care about others. While he won't go out of his way to help someone, he will do what he can to help in any situation. He prefers to keep to himself, most of the time. He feels the world has become dark and hopeless, yet a spark of hope and faith keeps him going, along with a sense of duty and and guilt.
But time, especially recent days, has made him cynical and cold, and at times his demeanor makes him unapproachable. There is something about his personality that makes him seem as though he is always on the verge of snapping, but never quite does. While he usually keeps his emotions in check, sometimes they make him unstable, prone to outbursts of anger or violence, or to sudden bouts of obsessive-compulsive disorder, when everything begins to look out-of-order to him and he has to go over everything multiple times, making sure the doors are locked, making sure his guns are clean and working. Anyone who disturbs him when he is in such a mood is likely to be shouted at or maimed.
Still, despite his instability and cynicism, he does care about others. While he won't go out of his way to help someone, he will do what he can to help in any situation. He prefers to keep to himself, most of the time. He feels the world has become dark and hopeless, yet a spark of hope and faith keeps him going, along with a sense of duty and and guilt.
Likes-
- Dogs
- Music, primarily rock
- Spiders
- Pizza
- Surfing
Dislikes-
- Coffee
- Politics
- Rain
- Bright colors
- Documentaries
Strengths-
- intelligent
- Quick thinker
- Logical
- Empathetic
Weaknesses-
- Short-sighted
- Spoiled
- Arrogant
- Aloof
Skills-
- Incredibly smart - IQ of 158
- Excellent swimmer
- Good driver
- Very precise hand-eye coordination - near-perfect aim, especially with a gun
Flaws-
- Mildly agoraphobic
- Obsessive-compulsive
- Asthmatic
- Insomniac
Hair- Blond, short cut
Eye Color- Blue-grey
Race- Caucasian
Physique- Athletic
Height- 5'10
Weight- 165 lbs
Birthplace- Devonport, Tasmania, Australia
Mother- Mariane Allison Christian (née Kaiser), retired, resides in Los Angeles
Father- Albert Edward Christian, retired, resides in Los Angeles
Siblings- None
Other- None
History-
Born in a small city on Tasmania, Remy led a sheltered, comfortable childhood. His parents were well-off, his community was small and safe, and he had access to plenty of activities, especially water sports. He was raised to be very culturally aware, but never experienced any sort of hardship, not poverty nor bullying nor illness and death. His parents made sure nothing possibly traumatic happened to him; they were successful, and Remy's childhood was peaceful and happy, the sort that every good parent wants to provide for their child. The downside to this perfect childhood would only become apparent decades later.
The Christians moved to the United States when Remy was sixteen years old. Here, too, he led a very sheltered life, as his parents could easily afford to live in the iconic and extravagantly expensive neighborhood of Beverly Hills. A brilliant student, he coasted through school and was accepted to Princeton University, where he studied various forms of science and earned a bachelor's degree in organic chemistry. He then went on to earn a doctorate in that field. Many job offers were extended to him, and he worked in a variety of fields, mostly pharmaceuticals, for the next several years. He also earned a teaching certificate and taught courses at universities from time to time.
Remy's first experience with hardship was an indirect one, as part of an aid organization that sent volunteers to help rebuild and study the effects of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. Being from out-of-town, the sight of the destruction meant nothing personally to him, though as anyone would, he found it terribly tragic. What stood out most for him were the "x-codes," or "Katrina crosses," which were used to mark each house after it had been searched. The date of the search and by whom, the condition of the house, and at the bottom, the number of bodies found. The memory of all that death and destruction, symbolized by those crosses, would remain with him for years.
In 2006, Remy joined a team at Diamond Corp that was working on the design and development of Immunex. The work was wonderful, at first - Remy felt as though he was helping a great cause, as though he would be making a greater change in the world through the creation of this product. But, as the years passed, he became disillusioned with the company; he believed that the vaccine's progress was being hampered by corporate bureaucracy, concerning non-medicinal factors like cost-cutting and public image, and he also discovered that many of the scientists he was working alongside were not actually that brilliant. He saw flaws everywhere, flaws that were allowed to slip through the development process and that held up the vaccine's production. Remy quit in 2009 after a vicious spat over Immunex's design that pitted him against almost every scientist on the staff at the time. After floating around a bit, he took a job as an adjunct professor at the City University of New York, just so he would have something to do; but he did pay attention to the happenings with Diamond Corp and Immunex, as he still firmly believed Immunex would be a miracle vaccine.
For a while, his only scientific work was what he did on his own time, in the laboratory located in the cellar of his home in Brooklyn. When Diamond Corp. announced the release of Immunex, Remy was thrilled, glad his old coworkers had finally pulled together to finish the product. He considered getting the vaccine, but never got around to it. As it turned out, his procrastinating helped him dodge a bullet. The symptoms began to show, and soon evacuations had begun.
The outbreak and hysteria were far beyond anything Remy had ever experienced firsthand. As the infection spread and people all around him took on its symptoms, he locked himself into his home and fell into a state of shock; his mind was not accustomed to dealing with trauma, and he had zero survival skills, aside from good aim with a gun, which proved no help to him for some time.
At first, Remy refused to kill any zombies. They were people too, albeit undead ones; they were only victims of Diamond Corp's neglect and recklessness. During this time, his survival depended solely on luck; a few times, he was able to outrun or outhink the zombies, but most of the time, his ass was saved by someone else who was willing to shoot the creatures. His perspective of zombies only changed when he witnessed a cruel attack on a young woman and the infant she was carrying. Had he taken the zombies out when he had the chance, the woman and child would likely have survived; it was only after both had been bitten that Remy finally took action. Wtih the zombies down, the young woman killed her baby, to save it from suffering, and then asked Remy to do the same for her. Reluctantly, Remy did.
Since then, Remy has spent all of his time either looting for supplies, killing zombies, and working on an antidote to Immunex, based on what he knew about the product from working on it and the contents of a sample of it he managed to steal from someone's abandoned home. Remy is one of a very few people who never attempted to evacuate at all. He feels personally responsible, in part, for what Diamond Corp. did, as he left the company when he could have stayed and helped create a safer product. His grief over the situation is almost as great as his anger at Diamond Corp. He is determined to find a cure, and would give up his life to that end.
Anything else?- Remy carries two Beretta 92FS Inox pistols, a Kimber Custom TLE II (handgun), and/or a Ruger Mini-14 (rifle). While the two main floors of his house are not completely safe to inhabit, his cellar, which contains the laboratory he has been using for years, is sealed off and has a hidden door secured by a fingerprint lock. The lab has always run on its own generator.
The Christians moved to the United States when Remy was sixteen years old. Here, too, he led a very sheltered life, as his parents could easily afford to live in the iconic and extravagantly expensive neighborhood of Beverly Hills. A brilliant student, he coasted through school and was accepted to Princeton University, where he studied various forms of science and earned a bachelor's degree in organic chemistry. He then went on to earn a doctorate in that field. Many job offers were extended to him, and he worked in a variety of fields, mostly pharmaceuticals, for the next several years. He also earned a teaching certificate and taught courses at universities from time to time.
Remy's first experience with hardship was an indirect one, as part of an aid organization that sent volunteers to help rebuild and study the effects of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. Being from out-of-town, the sight of the destruction meant nothing personally to him, though as anyone would, he found it terribly tragic. What stood out most for him were the "x-codes," or "Katrina crosses," which were used to mark each house after it had been searched. The date of the search and by whom, the condition of the house, and at the bottom, the number of bodies found. The memory of all that death and destruction, symbolized by those crosses, would remain with him for years.
In 2006, Remy joined a team at Diamond Corp that was working on the design and development of Immunex. The work was wonderful, at first - Remy felt as though he was helping a great cause, as though he would be making a greater change in the world through the creation of this product. But, as the years passed, he became disillusioned with the company; he believed that the vaccine's progress was being hampered by corporate bureaucracy, concerning non-medicinal factors like cost-cutting and public image, and he also discovered that many of the scientists he was working alongside were not actually that brilliant. He saw flaws everywhere, flaws that were allowed to slip through the development process and that held up the vaccine's production. Remy quit in 2009 after a vicious spat over Immunex's design that pitted him against almost every scientist on the staff at the time. After floating around a bit, he took a job as an adjunct professor at the City University of New York, just so he would have something to do; but he did pay attention to the happenings with Diamond Corp and Immunex, as he still firmly believed Immunex would be a miracle vaccine.
For a while, his only scientific work was what he did on his own time, in the laboratory located in the cellar of his home in Brooklyn. When Diamond Corp. announced the release of Immunex, Remy was thrilled, glad his old coworkers had finally pulled together to finish the product. He considered getting the vaccine, but never got around to it. As it turned out, his procrastinating helped him dodge a bullet. The symptoms began to show, and soon evacuations had begun.
The outbreak and hysteria were far beyond anything Remy had ever experienced firsthand. As the infection spread and people all around him took on its symptoms, he locked himself into his home and fell into a state of shock; his mind was not accustomed to dealing with trauma, and he had zero survival skills, aside from good aim with a gun, which proved no help to him for some time.
At first, Remy refused to kill any zombies. They were people too, albeit undead ones; they were only victims of Diamond Corp's neglect and recklessness. During this time, his survival depended solely on luck; a few times, he was able to outrun or outhink the zombies, but most of the time, his ass was saved by someone else who was willing to shoot the creatures. His perspective of zombies only changed when he witnessed a cruel attack on a young woman and the infant she was carrying. Had he taken the zombies out when he had the chance, the woman and child would likely have survived; it was only after both had been bitten that Remy finally took action. Wtih the zombies down, the young woman killed her baby, to save it from suffering, and then asked Remy to do the same for her. Reluctantly, Remy did.
Since then, Remy has spent all of his time either looting for supplies, killing zombies, and working on an antidote to Immunex, based on what he knew about the product from working on it and the contents of a sample of it he managed to steal from someone's abandoned home. Remy is one of a very few people who never attempted to evacuate at all. He feels personally responsible, in part, for what Diamond Corp. did, as he left the company when he could have stayed and helped create a safer product. His grief over the situation is almost as great as his anger at Diamond Corp. He is determined to find a cure, and would give up his life to that end.
Anything else?- Remy carries two Beretta 92FS Inox pistols, a Kimber Custom TLE II (handgun), and/or a Ruger Mini-14 (rifle). While the two main floors of his house are not completely safe to inhabit, his cellar, which contains the laboratory he has been using for years, is sealed off and has a hidden door secured by a fingerprint lock. The lab has always run on its own generator.
Sample RP-
The hiss of spray paint broke the silence that had befallen the street since the last dying scream. It was eerie how quickly the scene always quieted down once all the damn creatures were dead. There was now nothing left living - or un-living - in the vicinity, which was how Remy preferred it. And Remy was coming away with the items he'd needed, without so much as a scratch for his trouble. He was getting better at this, he reflected, without knowing whether he was glad about it or sickened by the fact that he now had to shoot and loot his way through each passing day.
He had known this house would have ammunition. The father had been an avid hunter, and had been teaching his two young sons the same. Remy had found their stock exactly where he had seen it last, at the top of a closet. That had been a great afternoon, a barbecue for one of the sons' birthdays, and the two boys had been eager to show Remy what their father had been teaching them. Of course, their dad didn't let them actually shoot in the city, and at a densely-packed party at that, but they had taken out the rifles to show off. For a long time, Remy had remembered that day because of the bond he had noticed between father and children, one he did not have; now he remembered it because their ammo was where he got his current supply. He had taken down one of the cases and started moving its contents into a backpack slung over one shoulder, taking enough ammo to tide him over for a while, but not enough to weigh him down on the trip home.
And then a shadow had come lurching in from the dining room. Even in such a deteriorated state, Remy could recognize the father, the owner of the house. It was not the first time he had seen an acquaintance in such a state. Nor would it be the last. He had trained himself out of the compulsion to hesitate. They had been his friends, once; now they were a danger to him, with no recollection of their past bond, as far as he could tell; or at least, no care for it. Now they were threats. He raised a silenced pistol and fired once, and the shot met its mark, blasting through the zombie's skull.
The soft thud of a body hitting the floor brought three more figures out to investigate. By the time they arrived, Remy had gotten all he needed from the closet. The little boys and their mother caught him on his way to their pantry. They growled and came at him; three shots dispatched them one at a time. Remy tucked the gun into its holster and proceeded into the kitchen.
A few minutes and some tins of food later, Remy was at the front door, the whisper of the spray paint breaking the deafening silence of the house. He drew a red X over the cream-colored door. In the top quarter of the X, he wrote the current date; to the left and right, the letters "RJ" and "Z," respectively; and at the bottom, the number "4." Four zombies, now permanently dead.
With a shrug, he reset the backpack and the rifle on his shoulders, then slipped quietly away from the door and around the house, to where a hidden door led into the cellar next door. Once safely inside, he lowered the backpack and set to putting away the various items he had just taken from his neighbor's house.
He had known this house would have ammunition. The father had been an avid hunter, and had been teaching his two young sons the same. Remy had found their stock exactly where he had seen it last, at the top of a closet. That had been a great afternoon, a barbecue for one of the sons' birthdays, and the two boys had been eager to show Remy what their father had been teaching them. Of course, their dad didn't let them actually shoot in the city, and at a densely-packed party at that, but they had taken out the rifles to show off. For a long time, Remy had remembered that day because of the bond he had noticed between father and children, one he did not have; now he remembered it because their ammo was where he got his current supply. He had taken down one of the cases and started moving its contents into a backpack slung over one shoulder, taking enough ammo to tide him over for a while, but not enough to weigh him down on the trip home.
And then a shadow had come lurching in from the dining room. Even in such a deteriorated state, Remy could recognize the father, the owner of the house. It was not the first time he had seen an acquaintance in such a state. Nor would it be the last. He had trained himself out of the compulsion to hesitate. They had been his friends, once; now they were a danger to him, with no recollection of their past bond, as far as he could tell; or at least, no care for it. Now they were threats. He raised a silenced pistol and fired once, and the shot met its mark, blasting through the zombie's skull.
The soft thud of a body hitting the floor brought three more figures out to investigate. By the time they arrived, Remy had gotten all he needed from the closet. The little boys and their mother caught him on his way to their pantry. They growled and came at him; three shots dispatched them one at a time. Remy tucked the gun into its holster and proceeded into the kitchen.
A few minutes and some tins of food later, Remy was at the front door, the whisper of the spray paint breaking the deafening silence of the house. He drew a red X over the cream-colored door. In the top quarter of the X, he wrote the current date; to the left and right, the letters "RJ" and "Z," respectively; and at the bottom, the number "4." Four zombies, now permanently dead.
With a shrug, he reset the backpack and the rifle on his shoulders, then slipped quietly away from the door and around the house, to where a hidden door led into the cellar next door. Once safely inside, he lowered the backpack and set to putting away the various items he had just taken from his neighbor's house.
