(no subject)
Next batch! There's a dup at the end.
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. Closed!
Name: Rory Williams
Canon: Doctor Who
Age: Mid-Twenties
Job: Helloooooooo Nurse!
Doctor Who is a series about the Doctor, who is actually a Time Lord, a member of a functionally-extinct ancient alien species. He travels through all of time and space, being all heroic-like and fixing problems. To balance his alienness, he takes on a companion, usually a relatable young woman with a lot of personality. Sometimes, though, extenuating circumstances require people important to the companion to travel with them, as well, too. This is the case with Rory Williams.
Rory is the husband of the current companion, Amy Pond. In contrast to Amy’s barrelling personality, Rory is a nervous talker who just wants to settle in a nice house, have a nice job, and have nice babies with the woman he loves. Repetitive and rambling in his speech, Rory doesn’t require anyone else to respond as he verbally works through his thoughts, trying at times to assert himself and then backpedaling to make sure that he hasn’t stepped over any boundaries. Rory would like very much to be the white knight in Amy’s eyes, he ‘s just not always sure how a nurse can compete with the Doctor.
Sample Post:
"Hello nurse"? That’s my job? I suppose it's meant to be greeting people, then. Since hello is generally the accepted word or phrase for greeting. Hello, then, I’m Rory, though I'm not exactly sure where this ridiculous-and I do mean rediculous-outfit comes in. Fairly certain no nurses have worn a get up like this since 1963, and they supposedly had the figure to pull it off. A figure that’s, er, longer in the leg and fuller in the... upper...torso area. Also a figure immune to the temperature, apparently. Little skimpy things aren't exactly proper attire for November in the Northern Hemisphere. This is the Northern Hemisphere? No, wait, don't answer that. This is still Earth, right? You can never be too sure these days where you'll end up, you know. Jetsetting all around the galaxies, narrowly escaping death at all times. Speaking of narrowly escaping death, I really can’t move in these clear... lighty-uppy...shoes... Is there a name for this kind? With the thick middle and the tiny, deathspiky heel? Well, regardless, I’m going to call them deathspiky spikes of torture and death. They’re quite unpleasant, actually. And I’m to be expected to walk around in them? I could try my best but I’m really not sure... I mean... Well, there’s no harm in trying?
Yes! Yes there’s harm in trying. Ow. Owwww. Yes, so. Quite painful, those. I’m just going to stay planted where I am, thank you, and try to determine if there’s anything in my handy little nurse kit bag thing that could help me out with this. Here we are, just a moment and... a banana! ...A banana. It’s a very healthful banana, at the very least, but I don’t think it’s a particularly helpful banana, as a nursing tool. Now, bananas are great for a lot of things, namely eating. They’re full of good potassium and help relieve cramps! Like the-ow ow ow-cramps that I’m experiencing at the moment. Unfortunately, there’s the little matter of the writing all over this one. It’s quite clear in its demands: FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY, APPLY WHOLE.
Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m not one to consume an entire banana whole, peel and all. That seems like the fast track to the Heimlich and that’s a little difficult to do on your own, plus peels are nasty. So, let’s see what else in here that could give us some clues. Rubber ducky, no. Holiday streamers, probably not, no. A little bottle of some slick liqu-Oh. Oh! I know what that... Oh. Um. Yes, that... we’ll just put that back in the bag and pull out... this feels like a book. Perhaps this magical, wonderful book is the oh-so-needed instruction manual for this whole situation. Maybe it will even explain why I’m in a naughty nurse costume with naughty nurse heels, a banana, and embarrassing accessories. Dear book, please tell me what I’m doing with my life.
…Prostate Exams for Dummies? On second thought, the peel’s not looking too bad.
Poll Vote!
Character: Dr. John Watson
Series: Sherlock (2010)
Character Age: Late thirties
Job: Maintainer of the Camp Blog
Canon: Sherlock is what happens when you take Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes", subtract Victorians and add mobile phones. Dr. John Watson is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan, honorably discharged and returned to London with a taste for danger, a psychosomatic limp, and instructions from his therapist to write a blog. Fortunately for him, in the midst of a downward spiral into ennui, he's given a chance to room with Sherlock Holmes, a self-designated consulting detective and self- diagnosed high-functioning sociopath. What results is a modern take on Doyle's classic tales, in which Sherlock and John both dash about London tracking down homicidal cabbies and Czech assassins - when they're not arguing about their needing milk or Sherlock's tendency to leave body parts lying about the kitchen, that is.
John's a perfect complement to the mercurial Sherlock: he's calm and stalwart, loyal and long -suffering - save when his temper gets the best of him and he snaps at some unsuspecting soul (don't worry, his unerring politeness will kick in immediately after). Unlike many, John finds Sherlock's skills of observation and deduction impressive - and also unlike many, John endures Sherlock's temperamental moods and volatile behaviors. It's what John excels at: fierce calm in the face of danger, fast loyalty, a dark sense of humor, and a stalwart sense of morality... which all comes in handy when one frequently gets oneself into scrapes involving serial murderers and organized crime syndicates.
Sample Post:
19th November
America, Then
Not the most illustrative of titles, but when the only things there are to describe are fields upon fields of corn and a giant grain silo, everything blurs together and you end up typing out "America, Then". Right. I can see why I was hired on for this.
Introductions are in order, I suppose. I've not loads of experience writing, so God knows why Ms Sayre asked me to contribute to the online discourse you've got going here at Camp - that name wasn't a joke? Kids read this, don't they? Or have you got it age-blocked? (I'd like to know that trick. Could you set it to keep meddlesome flatmates from your email? I know you're reading this, Sherlock, and I've changed my password again.) Regardless, I'm Dr John Watson, and I was asked to contribute to and maintain a blog of sorts for this place (honestly, it's a summer camp, right? With that name?). Ms Sayre emailed me with an offer and I'm not one to turn down an extra quid, especially if a holiday to a different country's in the plan - and it looks like you're full up on doctors, so may as well work on being a rounded individual, right?
That all being said then, let's get to it. I was handed a list of recent events to announce and/or summarize, so. December's coming on fast (always blindsides me a bit, with the gaudy music and the lights appearing from out of nowhere) and it seems like a standard tradition around here is mistletoe and all of the assorted frivolities. The entry for mistletoe's asterisked, and the footnote says for everyone to "just go with it", whatever that means. Sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me. Have you had trouble with people taking advantage of the opportunity in the past? Disconcerting. But right, mistletoe, the upcoming month of December, everyone keep their breath mints on hand.
Speaking of breath mints - no, there's no good transition here, we're all going to have to wish for one together - the next and only other point on this list mentions something about moogles. Wasn’t quite sure what moogles were but I did look it up. The fact that the list says you can “all go back to dying willy-nilly” now that they’re up and running is... well, great choice of words and rather funny, but no, mostly bad. It'd be nice to have a job where death isn't standard - unless this isn't a camp, unless we've got some sort of... role-playing subculture, and that's what you're particularly into. Which is fine, by the way! And will, actually, make for a rather interesting list of topics to recount weekly. Right. I'd just rather not be included - which means that at any moment the emails about how I'd look better with a moustache could stop. Thank you.
Poll Vote!
Character name: Jim Moriarty
Series: BBC’s Sherlock
Age: Unknown, appears in his late 20s early 30s
Job: Consulting Criminal
Canon: Recipe for Sherlock: Take one highly functioning sociopath detective, take one danger loving former military doctor. Add serial killers, smuggling rings, and other assorted crimes. Let set until firmly codependent. Garnish with long suffering inspector and coworkers. Allow guests to add a little sociopath criminal mastermind for spice. Serve over a cold day in 2010 London. Enjoy.
The aforementioned mastermind is, of course, none other than Jim Moriarty. Endlessly manipulative and a skilled actor to boot, Jim operates an extensive criminal consulting business. Need someone to back your serial murdering spree through the streets of London? Moriarty can pay your fare. Looking for a little help smuggling artifacts from Hong Kong? With Jim, your worries will be long gone. Easily Sherlock's equal in intellect, Jim sees other people as toys and pets to be used and played with. He runs his plots with ruthless efficiency and complete secrecy, escaping the notice of Scotland Yard until he decides to play a little game of boom boom ditch with Sherlock. Only then does he reveal a mere hint of his underworld machinations, the disturbing truth of his unhinged personality, and the utter simplicity of his motivations: he's really terribly bored.
Mod permission has been obtained for the recipient of Jim's letter.
Sample Post:
Dear Masqué,
It's traditional to open a letter with a wish that the correspondence finds the other party in good spirits, but in your case it seems the good spirits have you quite completely now, don't they? Such a shame that your little toys proved so incompetent in finding me. But then, I do pride myself on being elusive - not to mention the fact that your pets and your little offer were juvenile at best. So please take this as my apology. I only wish I could have arrived in time for the spectacle that must have resulted in your ultimate demise. I don't blame you for it, of course. It's just a sad truth that you are human, after all.
I don't make a habit of writing to the deceased, yet it would be such a shame to come all this way on your invitation without a bit of gratitude. Don't be silly enough to think that I'm expecting any more out of you - you've really quite exhausted your usefulness, my would-be associate. And there's the plain fact that your summons were to nowhere other than a lovely little trap. Your rival really outdid you here, didn't she? Just look. All around this place. Such a mass of humanity, you wonder how she finds enough hours in the day. You really deserved the death you got, set up against a mind like hers. Luring them in with whispers. Stretching her reaches past the bounds of human imagination. Such a cute little girl gathering all her toys into one lovely box. All of them, dancing at her will. And isn't that the wonder of it? Such a lovely dance. Some of them barely even remember to think of the power that's brought them here.
A shame to see such potential go to waste. Such a clever woman, this director. But not enough. You weren't enough for it either, my friend. You had the world set before you. A game with all the pieces set, stretching as far as you can see. Oh, but not for you. Or her either. You're both thinking so small, like the tiny little bugs you are. Little specks of dust. Sticks and twigs gathered up in a pile of tinder large enough for a fire that would light the skies up. These little dolls have wishes, you know. Silly little tiny wishes. Wouldn't you like to see what happens if you grant them? Tug their strings this way and that. All that's missing is a master to man the controls.
I had thought it suiting to punish her. Miss Sayre. The matter of my arrival was really unacceptable. I do hate to be interrupted when I'm at work, and it was such an exciting project. But it looks like she's allowed me to take that project to a new level, here. I have earned a vacation. It's such a fitting place for that. All that's left to do is set the tinder to the fire and watch it burn. A camp isn't complete without a proper bonfire.
Well, I do think I've gone on quite long enough, writing to a dead man. But I do feel we've grown closer through this, my friend. Death is such a suiting mask for you.
-M
Poll Vote!
Character: Aeris Gainsborough
Series: Final Fantasy VII and its many sequels/prequels
Character Age: 22
Job: Resident Kabob or Superior Hair And Nail Kit Emergency Distributor
Canon: Final Fantasy VII is kind of like Earth Day gone crazy. The game has you play as one semi-amnesiac drug-addled protagonist through his excellent adventures with a band of EcoTerrorists who just want to save the Planet. Along the way the merry band of misfits -- which include a firelion, a thieving ninja, Mr. T and a robotic stuffed cat thing -- encounter an equally colorful assortment of villains: the token fat villain, the skinny bitch, the cold CEO and the Man With Fantastic Hair Who Shanks A Lot. And man, does he shank a lot. Specifically the party’s white mage.
But saying "woe is the party without the white mage" doesn't really do Aeris justice. She's the cheerful flower girl you meet in the first few moments of the game. And she's the party member that convinces the main character to get into drag, because it's absolutely necessary, of course. She's the last of the Ancients, a mystic shamanic race that's connected to the game's famed and elusive Promised Land. Aeris is spunky, and hardly just the plot girlfriend. Kind but also firm, she's the opposite of a pushover. Basically, Aeris is the kind of girl who will give you a hug when you need one, but also give you a solid kick in the pants when you need one too.
Sample Entry:
Well, this is certainly different. I've done a lot of things in my life, and met a lot of different kinds of people, but I can't say that I've ever ended up in a place like this. Everything is so green and vibrant. It's like the hills have eyes -- or, maybe, like the hills are alive. And with the sound of music provided by those kind of cute crabs over there, it really puts a girl in the mood. Oh! Listen to me just ramble on like that without introducing myself. I'm Aeris, and it's nice to meet you all.
Mrs. Sayre hired me to be your "Resident Kabob", but to be rather frank that isn't a position I'm interested in. There are some jobs that you just know aren't right for you. Since I'm not really the sit on your hands type, either, I came up with my own job. While I've sold flowers in the past, I think it's time for something different. Especially since you all look so glum. It's time to cheer up, kids! So, I've decided to be your Superior Hair And Nail Kit Emergency Distributor.
Though, the 'superior' and 'emergency' bits aren't really necessary. The important part is that you feel good, right? So, if you're feeling down, or just want to put on something shimmery or silky, I'll help you out. And don't think this is only for you girls. While I love helping other girls out, sometimes it's you boys who need the most help. Don't even think of giving me the "Oh, but I'm a big manly soldier" line. You would be surprised what a hairbrush, a ribbon and a dash of perfume can do for anyone. Not that we have to go down that route, of course, I just like to offer a wide range of options.
What other options are there? Well, in these kits I have ribbons and combs. There's some things for your nails too, and a rainbow of polish. At first I thought these tiny "kabob-swords" were in bad taste, but when life gives you kabob-swords, you might as well make yourself dinner! That's just a saying, of course. But since these are so sharp we might as well put them to good use. Cut the sleeves off of one of your shirts, or let’s hem up one of those skirts. Cut loose and live your life with a smile.
Poll Vote!
Applicant #1
Character: Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood
Character Age: Mid-twenties
Job: Personal Assistant to the Director of Camp Fuck You Die
Canon: The Torchwood Institute is an organization that exists to defend the Earth against extraterrestrial threats and appropriate alien technology. The focus of the series itself is on Torchwood Three, which is a small outpost located in Cardiff, Wales. Lead by the always spectacular Captain Jack Harkness, the team’s primary mission is to babysit the space-time rift that runs through Cardiff. When the rift isn’t causing the problem of the day, the team spends their time on a variety of activities that may include abusing alien technology for personal use, capturing joyriding aliens, infiltrating fight clubs, making out with each other, and keeping cybernetic girlfriends in the basement.
Ianto Jones makes up the entirety of the support staff for Torchwood Three. At various times, he acts as an archivist, secretary, maintenance and upkeep, butler . . . with Ianto around, who needs a larger staff? Loyal to a fault and knowledgeable about nearly everything to do with the institute, Ianto is relied on to quickly and quietly clean up after the team. While often reserved, Ianto is not hesitant to exercise his dry, sarcastic sense of humor. A bit of a loner at first, he has begun to open up to his coworkers over time, especially Jack Harkness. Ianto is much more than he seems on the surface, with his smart suits and excellent coffee-making skills; in his own way, Ianto is one of the cornerstones that holds Torchwood Three together.
Sample Entry:
To: Camp Residents
From: Ianto Jones
Date: 19 November 2010
Re: Revised Policies
If you’re one of the few who has decided to read this instead of crumpling it up and moving on with your life, I suppose I owe you an introduction. I’m Ianto Jones, the Director’s personal assistant. One of my first tasks in this glamorous new job was to rewrite the Director’s schedule to meet her exacting needs, as communicated through vague emails and coded messages. I’m afraid that all requests to meet with her will be denied for the foreseeable future. Any previously scheduled meeting (I’m looking at you, Unicorn Fanciers Association) has been pushed back to “when hell freezes over and pigs take flight”. Since hearing your concerns is obviously of the utmost importance to us, I’ll be sure to update everyone if the policy changes. In the meantime, if there is an urgent problem that requires visiting the Director in person, I have been informed that these situations will be dealt with on a case by case basis. Please present your situation to Marcy, who will then decide if it constitutes an actual emergency. Apparently, she has experience you can trust in that area.
Passing on correspondence to the Director is also impossible, no matter how often you ask about it. The only mail I receive is sent directly from her office (wherever that may be . . .) and delivered by toucan courier. Since, as part of their professional service, the toucans regularly misplace messages, create a mess for me to clean up, and seem to be snickering behind my back, I can’t recommend them. The last three letters I sent were undeliverable due to being eaten, so unless you have a plan to keep them from devouring your delicious message, I’d drop the idea. I’m still not completely convinced that the Director is actually sending me mail and this isn’t just some elaborate plot on the part of the toucans.
As a final note, I did want to address filing a complaint. For some reason, I field the most questions about this. I simply can’t imagine why. If you wish to register a complaint, the first step is to fill in form LOL-569C. Finding it requires a trip to the Caves of Despair, where you must battle your way through an increasingly difficult group of monsters that are holding the form hostage. If you manage to survive and locate it, don’t forget to use only blue or black ink and print neatly. I can’t accept any form written in pencil, slime, blood, or other bodily fluids.
Completed complaint forms should be placed in the proper receptacle to the right of my desk, which is absolutely not a rubbish bin. As you have come to expect, Camp Fuck You Die will always treat your complaints with respect and dignity.
Applicant #2
Character: Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood
Character Age: 26
Job: Tourism Publicity Coordinator
Canon: The show Torchwood follows the Cardiff branch of Britain's anti-extraterrestrial organization, the eponymous Torchwood. Led by Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood Cardiff guards a rift in the fabric of space and time that runs straight through the centre of the city, dealing with the people, objects, and aliens that fall through.
Ianto Jones is Torchwood Cardiff's 'support staff'. Translated, that means he's their receptionist, archivist, tea boy, butler, maintenance man, and more. On the surface, and for several layers down if you feel like digging, Ianto is coolly reserved and utterly anal retentive. Deliberately affecting posh language, a polite poker face, and well-cut suits, the most common opinion of Ianto by those who know him is that he needs to loosen up. It's a surface he deliberately presents. Under it he conceals a strong personality characterized by a quirky sense of humour, a rather wicked mind, and an intense passion and loyalty towards those he loves. Ianto posesses a photographic memory, and his organizational, research, and archiving skills are top notch. He takes a great deal of pride in always knowing the information the team needs at any given moment - or at least knowing how to find it quickly. While the trials Torchwood endures can sometimes wear on him greatly, he stays with it out of love - both for the job, and for his boss. One of Ianto's quirks is that he keeps a daily diary in which he writes about everything from the professional to the very, very personal.
Sample Post:
Diary, Day 1
Today I was abducted to America and offered a job by a very . . . striking woman. Well, when I say 'offered', I mean that she informed me that I would be assuming the position whether I liked it or not. Of course I told her that I would be pleased to place myself under her. Best not to rile her until I have more information, wouldn't you agree? And really, if I'm not careful, it could go to my head. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but . . . no. If you asked me, I'd have to go with 'kidnapping because I'm just that good and she had to have me'.
Fortunately, I am always careful, and as soon as I can secure a terminal, Jack is going to get every bit of information I can dig up on Ms. Elizabeth Sayre.
In the meantime, however, I have a job to do. She is paying me, and it would be dishonest not to give it my best effort before I turn her over to Torchwood. Having looked through the office I was given, I can understand her desperation. I'm beginning to feel a bit of it myself. From all appearances, the last person to hold this job was an absolute ape. The filing system is in some pictographic language I'm not familiar with, and I can still tell that it isn't being properly utilised. I'm certain that "three tentacles around a goat in a bikini" isn't the proper location for three antique biscuits, a discarded pair of knickers, and a brochure on the relaxing properties of swamp slime. I've my work cut out for me, if all the files are in this state.
I've also been set the task of updating the brochures. Like the aforementioned pamphlet on slime, they're all horribly out of date. There hasn't been a swamp in this region of world in . . . well. Quite a long time. So, for a new brochure, I'm thinking . . . 'Come to Camp and study the unlife cycle of the victus mortuus! Follow them when they rise from the grave; witness the marvel of the combined feeding and species propagation acts as they feast on the locals; view their tragic and inevitable destruction. This ecotour is "BYOS" - Bring Your Own Shotgun. 15.6mm bore or higher recommended.' Not bad, right? I'd visit.
And that's just a warm-up. 'Experience life as never before - through the eyes of the opposite gender, or even an animal.' 'Our patented process lets you literally walk a mile in someone else's shoes.' 'Do you ever wonder where petrol will come from in the future? Learn how to milk a robotic cow and see for yourself the answer to our fossil fuel problems.' Plenty to write home about, don't you think?
Unless home is Torchwood. This is all old hat, honestly. Still, I'm already beginning to get a bit homesick. It's the sheep, you see. The ones here don't have fangs. I know, isn't it unnatural?
Poll Vote!
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. Closed!
Name: Rory Williams
Canon: Doctor Who
Age: Mid-Twenties
Job: Helloooooooo Nurse!
Doctor Who is a series about the Doctor, who is actually a Time Lord, a member of a functionally-extinct ancient alien species. He travels through all of time and space, being all heroic-like and fixing problems. To balance his alienness, he takes on a companion, usually a relatable young woman with a lot of personality. Sometimes, though, extenuating circumstances require people important to the companion to travel with them, as well, too. This is the case with Rory Williams.
Rory is the husband of the current companion, Amy Pond. In contrast to Amy’s barrelling personality, Rory is a nervous talker who just wants to settle in a nice house, have a nice job, and have nice babies with the woman he loves. Repetitive and rambling in his speech, Rory doesn’t require anyone else to respond as he verbally works through his thoughts, trying at times to assert himself and then backpedaling to make sure that he hasn’t stepped over any boundaries. Rory would like very much to be the white knight in Amy’s eyes, he ‘s just not always sure how a nurse can compete with the Doctor.
Sample Post:
"Hello nurse"? That’s my job? I suppose it's meant to be greeting people, then. Since hello is generally the accepted word or phrase for greeting. Hello, then, I’m Rory, though I'm not exactly sure where this ridiculous-and I do mean rediculous-outfit comes in. Fairly certain no nurses have worn a get up like this since 1963, and they supposedly had the figure to pull it off. A figure that’s, er, longer in the leg and fuller in the... upper...torso area. Also a figure immune to the temperature, apparently. Little skimpy things aren't exactly proper attire for November in the Northern Hemisphere. This is the Northern Hemisphere? No, wait, don't answer that. This is still Earth, right? You can never be too sure these days where you'll end up, you know. Jetsetting all around the galaxies, narrowly escaping death at all times. Speaking of narrowly escaping death, I really can’t move in these clear... lighty-uppy...shoes... Is there a name for this kind? With the thick middle and the tiny, deathspiky heel? Well, regardless, I’m going to call them deathspiky spikes of torture and death. They’re quite unpleasant, actually. And I’m to be expected to walk around in them? I could try my best but I’m really not sure... I mean... Well, there’s no harm in trying?
Yes! Yes there’s harm in trying. Ow. Owwww. Yes, so. Quite painful, those. I’m just going to stay planted where I am, thank you, and try to determine if there’s anything in my handy little nurse kit bag thing that could help me out with this. Here we are, just a moment and... a banana! ...A banana. It’s a very healthful banana, at the very least, but I don’t think it’s a particularly helpful banana, as a nursing tool. Now, bananas are great for a lot of things, namely eating. They’re full of good potassium and help relieve cramps! Like the-ow ow ow-cramps that I’m experiencing at the moment. Unfortunately, there’s the little matter of the writing all over this one. It’s quite clear in its demands: FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY, APPLY WHOLE.
Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m not one to consume an entire banana whole, peel and all. That seems like the fast track to the Heimlich and that’s a little difficult to do on your own, plus peels are nasty. So, let’s see what else in here that could give us some clues. Rubber ducky, no. Holiday streamers, probably not, no. A little bottle of some slick liqu-Oh. Oh! I know what that... Oh. Um. Yes, that... we’ll just put that back in the bag and pull out... this feels like a book. Perhaps this magical, wonderful book is the oh-so-needed instruction manual for this whole situation. Maybe it will even explain why I’m in a naughty nurse costume with naughty nurse heels, a banana, and embarrassing accessories. Dear book, please tell me what I’m doing with my life.
…Prostate Exams for Dummies? On second thought, the peel’s not looking too bad.
Poll Vote!
Character: Dr. John Watson
Series: Sherlock (2010)
Character Age: Late thirties
Job: Maintainer of the Camp Blog
Canon: Sherlock is what happens when you take Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes", subtract Victorians and add mobile phones. Dr. John Watson is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan, honorably discharged and returned to London with a taste for danger, a psychosomatic limp, and instructions from his therapist to write a blog. Fortunately for him, in the midst of a downward spiral into ennui, he's given a chance to room with Sherlock Holmes, a self-designated consulting detective and self- diagnosed high-functioning sociopath. What results is a modern take on Doyle's classic tales, in which Sherlock and John both dash about London tracking down homicidal cabbies and Czech assassins - when they're not arguing about their needing milk or Sherlock's tendency to leave body parts lying about the kitchen, that is.
John's a perfect complement to the mercurial Sherlock: he's calm and stalwart, loyal and long -suffering - save when his temper gets the best of him and he snaps at some unsuspecting soul (don't worry, his unerring politeness will kick in immediately after). Unlike many, John finds Sherlock's skills of observation and deduction impressive - and also unlike many, John endures Sherlock's temperamental moods and volatile behaviors. It's what John excels at: fierce calm in the face of danger, fast loyalty, a dark sense of humor, and a stalwart sense of morality... which all comes in handy when one frequently gets oneself into scrapes involving serial murderers and organized crime syndicates.
Sample Post:
19th November
America, Then
Not the most illustrative of titles, but when the only things there are to describe are fields upon fields of corn and a giant grain silo, everything blurs together and you end up typing out "America, Then". Right. I can see why I was hired on for this.
Introductions are in order, I suppose. I've not loads of experience writing, so God knows why Ms Sayre asked me to contribute to the online discourse you've got going here at Camp - that name wasn't a joke? Kids read this, don't they? Or have you got it age-blocked? (I'd like to know that trick. Could you set it to keep meddlesome flatmates from your email? I know you're reading this, Sherlock, and I've changed my password again.) Regardless, I'm Dr John Watson, and I was asked to contribute to and maintain a blog of sorts for this place (honestly, it's a summer camp, right? With that name?). Ms Sayre emailed me with an offer and I'm not one to turn down an extra quid, especially if a holiday to a different country's in the plan - and it looks like you're full up on doctors, so may as well work on being a rounded individual, right?
That all being said then, let's get to it. I was handed a list of recent events to announce and/or summarize, so. December's coming on fast (always blindsides me a bit, with the gaudy music and the lights appearing from out of nowhere) and it seems like a standard tradition around here is mistletoe and all of the assorted frivolities. The entry for mistletoe's asterisked, and the footnote says for everyone to "just go with it", whatever that means. Sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me. Have you had trouble with people taking advantage of the opportunity in the past? Disconcerting. But right, mistletoe, the upcoming month of December, everyone keep their breath mints on hand.
Speaking of breath mints - no, there's no good transition here, we're all going to have to wish for one together - the next and only other point on this list mentions something about moogles. Wasn’t quite sure what moogles were but I did look it up. The fact that the list says you can “all go back to dying willy-nilly” now that they’re up and running is... well, great choice of words and rather funny, but no, mostly bad. It'd be nice to have a job where death isn't standard - unless this isn't a camp, unless we've got some sort of... role-playing subculture, and that's what you're particularly into. Which is fine, by the way! And will, actually, make for a rather interesting list of topics to recount weekly. Right. I'd just rather not be included - which means that at any moment the emails about how I'd look better with a moustache could stop. Thank you.
Poll Vote!
Character name: Jim Moriarty
Series: BBC’s Sherlock
Age: Unknown, appears in his late 20s early 30s
Job: Consulting Criminal
Canon: Recipe for Sherlock: Take one highly functioning sociopath detective, take one danger loving former military doctor. Add serial killers, smuggling rings, and other assorted crimes. Let set until firmly codependent. Garnish with long suffering inspector and coworkers. Allow guests to add a little sociopath criminal mastermind for spice. Serve over a cold day in 2010 London. Enjoy.
The aforementioned mastermind is, of course, none other than Jim Moriarty. Endlessly manipulative and a skilled actor to boot, Jim operates an extensive criminal consulting business. Need someone to back your serial murdering spree through the streets of London? Moriarty can pay your fare. Looking for a little help smuggling artifacts from Hong Kong? With Jim, your worries will be long gone. Easily Sherlock's equal in intellect, Jim sees other people as toys and pets to be used and played with. He runs his plots with ruthless efficiency and complete secrecy, escaping the notice of Scotland Yard until he decides to play a little game of boom boom ditch with Sherlock. Only then does he reveal a mere hint of his underworld machinations, the disturbing truth of his unhinged personality, and the utter simplicity of his motivations: he's really terribly bored.
Mod permission has been obtained for the recipient of Jim's letter.
Sample Post:
Dear Masqué,
It's traditional to open a letter with a wish that the correspondence finds the other party in good spirits, but in your case it seems the good spirits have you quite completely now, don't they? Such a shame that your little toys proved so incompetent in finding me. But then, I do pride myself on being elusive - not to mention the fact that your pets and your little offer were juvenile at best. So please take this as my apology. I only wish I could have arrived in time for the spectacle that must have resulted in your ultimate demise. I don't blame you for it, of course. It's just a sad truth that you are human, after all.
I don't make a habit of writing to the deceased, yet it would be such a shame to come all this way on your invitation without a bit of gratitude. Don't be silly enough to think that I'm expecting any more out of you - you've really quite exhausted your usefulness, my would-be associate. And there's the plain fact that your summons were to nowhere other than a lovely little trap. Your rival really outdid you here, didn't she? Just look. All around this place. Such a mass of humanity, you wonder how she finds enough hours in the day. You really deserved the death you got, set up against a mind like hers. Luring them in with whispers. Stretching her reaches past the bounds of human imagination. Such a cute little girl gathering all her toys into one lovely box. All of them, dancing at her will. And isn't that the wonder of it? Such a lovely dance. Some of them barely even remember to think of the power that's brought them here.
A shame to see such potential go to waste. Such a clever woman, this director. But not enough. You weren't enough for it either, my friend. You had the world set before you. A game with all the pieces set, stretching as far as you can see. Oh, but not for you. Or her either. You're both thinking so small, like the tiny little bugs you are. Little specks of dust. Sticks and twigs gathered up in a pile of tinder large enough for a fire that would light the skies up. These little dolls have wishes, you know. Silly little tiny wishes. Wouldn't you like to see what happens if you grant them? Tug their strings this way and that. All that's missing is a master to man the controls.
I had thought it suiting to punish her. Miss Sayre. The matter of my arrival was really unacceptable. I do hate to be interrupted when I'm at work, and it was such an exciting project. But it looks like she's allowed me to take that project to a new level, here. I have earned a vacation. It's such a fitting place for that. All that's left to do is set the tinder to the fire and watch it burn. A camp isn't complete without a proper bonfire.
Well, I do think I've gone on quite long enough, writing to a dead man. But I do feel we've grown closer through this, my friend. Death is such a suiting mask for you.
-M
Poll Vote!
Character: Aeris Gainsborough
Series: Final Fantasy VII and its many sequels/prequels
Character Age: 22
Job: Resident Kabob or Superior Hair And Nail Kit Emergency Distributor
Canon: Final Fantasy VII is kind of like Earth Day gone crazy. The game has you play as one semi-amnesiac drug-addled protagonist through his excellent adventures with a band of EcoTerrorists who just want to save the Planet. Along the way the merry band of misfits -- which include a firelion, a thieving ninja, Mr. T and a robotic stuffed cat thing -- encounter an equally colorful assortment of villains: the token fat villain, the skinny bitch, the cold CEO and the Man With Fantastic Hair Who Shanks A Lot. And man, does he shank a lot. Specifically the party’s white mage.
But saying "woe is the party without the white mage" doesn't really do Aeris justice. She's the cheerful flower girl you meet in the first few moments of the game. And she's the party member that convinces the main character to get into drag, because it's absolutely necessary, of course. She's the last of the Ancients, a mystic shamanic race that's connected to the game's famed and elusive Promised Land. Aeris is spunky, and hardly just the plot girlfriend. Kind but also firm, she's the opposite of a pushover. Basically, Aeris is the kind of girl who will give you a hug when you need one, but also give you a solid kick in the pants when you need one too.
Sample Entry:
Well, this is certainly different. I've done a lot of things in my life, and met a lot of different kinds of people, but I can't say that I've ever ended up in a place like this. Everything is so green and vibrant. It's like the hills have eyes -- or, maybe, like the hills are alive. And with the sound of music provided by those kind of cute crabs over there, it really puts a girl in the mood. Oh! Listen to me just ramble on like that without introducing myself. I'm Aeris, and it's nice to meet you all.
Mrs. Sayre hired me to be your "Resident Kabob", but to be rather frank that isn't a position I'm interested in. There are some jobs that you just know aren't right for you. Since I'm not really the sit on your hands type, either, I came up with my own job. While I've sold flowers in the past, I think it's time for something different. Especially since you all look so glum. It's time to cheer up, kids! So, I've decided to be your Superior Hair And Nail Kit Emergency Distributor.
Though, the 'superior' and 'emergency' bits aren't really necessary. The important part is that you feel good, right? So, if you're feeling down, or just want to put on something shimmery or silky, I'll help you out. And don't think this is only for you girls. While I love helping other girls out, sometimes it's you boys who need the most help. Don't even think of giving me the "Oh, but I'm a big manly soldier" line. You would be surprised what a hairbrush, a ribbon and a dash of perfume can do for anyone. Not that we have to go down that route, of course, I just like to offer a wide range of options.
What other options are there? Well, in these kits I have ribbons and combs. There's some things for your nails too, and a rainbow of polish. At first I thought these tiny "kabob-swords" were in bad taste, but when life gives you kabob-swords, you might as well make yourself dinner! That's just a saying, of course. But since these are so sharp we might as well put them to good use. Cut the sleeves off of one of your shirts, or let’s hem up one of those skirts. Cut loose and live your life with a smile.
Poll Vote!
Applicant #1
Character: Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood
Character Age: Mid-twenties
Job: Personal Assistant to the Director of Camp Fuck You Die
Canon: The Torchwood Institute is an organization that exists to defend the Earth against extraterrestrial threats and appropriate alien technology. The focus of the series itself is on Torchwood Three, which is a small outpost located in Cardiff, Wales. Lead by the always spectacular Captain Jack Harkness, the team’s primary mission is to babysit the space-time rift that runs through Cardiff. When the rift isn’t causing the problem of the day, the team spends their time on a variety of activities that may include abusing alien technology for personal use, capturing joyriding aliens, infiltrating fight clubs, making out with each other, and keeping cybernetic girlfriends in the basement.
Ianto Jones makes up the entirety of the support staff for Torchwood Three. At various times, he acts as an archivist, secretary, maintenance and upkeep, butler . . . with Ianto around, who needs a larger staff? Loyal to a fault and knowledgeable about nearly everything to do with the institute, Ianto is relied on to quickly and quietly clean up after the team. While often reserved, Ianto is not hesitant to exercise his dry, sarcastic sense of humor. A bit of a loner at first, he has begun to open up to his coworkers over time, especially Jack Harkness. Ianto is much more than he seems on the surface, with his smart suits and excellent coffee-making skills; in his own way, Ianto is one of the cornerstones that holds Torchwood Three together.
Sample Entry:
To: Camp Residents
From: Ianto Jones
Date: 19 November 2010
Re: Revised Policies
If you’re one of the few who has decided to read this instead of crumpling it up and moving on with your life, I suppose I owe you an introduction. I’m Ianto Jones, the Director’s personal assistant. One of my first tasks in this glamorous new job was to rewrite the Director’s schedule to meet her exacting needs, as communicated through vague emails and coded messages. I’m afraid that all requests to meet with her will be denied for the foreseeable future. Any previously scheduled meeting (I’m looking at you, Unicorn Fanciers Association) has been pushed back to “when hell freezes over and pigs take flight”. Since hearing your concerns is obviously of the utmost importance to us, I’ll be sure to update everyone if the policy changes. In the meantime, if there is an urgent problem that requires visiting the Director in person, I have been informed that these situations will be dealt with on a case by case basis. Please present your situation to Marcy, who will then decide if it constitutes an actual emergency. Apparently, she has experience you can trust in that area.
Passing on correspondence to the Director is also impossible, no matter how often you ask about it. The only mail I receive is sent directly from her office (wherever that may be . . .) and delivered by toucan courier. Since, as part of their professional service, the toucans regularly misplace messages, create a mess for me to clean up, and seem to be snickering behind my back, I can’t recommend them. The last three letters I sent were undeliverable due to being eaten, so unless you have a plan to keep them from devouring your delicious message, I’d drop the idea. I’m still not completely convinced that the Director is actually sending me mail and this isn’t just some elaborate plot on the part of the toucans.
As a final note, I did want to address filing a complaint. For some reason, I field the most questions about this. I simply can’t imagine why. If you wish to register a complaint, the first step is to fill in form LOL-569C. Finding it requires a trip to the Caves of Despair, where you must battle your way through an increasingly difficult group of monsters that are holding the form hostage. If you manage to survive and locate it, don’t forget to use only blue or black ink and print neatly. I can’t accept any form written in pencil, slime, blood, or other bodily fluids.
Completed complaint forms should be placed in the proper receptacle to the right of my desk, which is absolutely not a rubbish bin. As you have come to expect, Camp Fuck You Die will always treat your complaints with respect and dignity.
Applicant #2
Character: Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood
Character Age: 26
Job: Tourism Publicity Coordinator
Canon: The show Torchwood follows the Cardiff branch of Britain's anti-extraterrestrial organization, the eponymous Torchwood. Led by Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood Cardiff guards a rift in the fabric of space and time that runs straight through the centre of the city, dealing with the people, objects, and aliens that fall through.
Ianto Jones is Torchwood Cardiff's 'support staff'. Translated, that means he's their receptionist, archivist, tea boy, butler, maintenance man, and more. On the surface, and for several layers down if you feel like digging, Ianto is coolly reserved and utterly anal retentive. Deliberately affecting posh language, a polite poker face, and well-cut suits, the most common opinion of Ianto by those who know him is that he needs to loosen up. It's a surface he deliberately presents. Under it he conceals a strong personality characterized by a quirky sense of humour, a rather wicked mind, and an intense passion and loyalty towards those he loves. Ianto posesses a photographic memory, and his organizational, research, and archiving skills are top notch. He takes a great deal of pride in always knowing the information the team needs at any given moment - or at least knowing how to find it quickly. While the trials Torchwood endures can sometimes wear on him greatly, he stays with it out of love - both for the job, and for his boss. One of Ianto's quirks is that he keeps a daily diary in which he writes about everything from the professional to the very, very personal.
Sample Post:
Diary, Day 1
Today I was abducted to America and offered a job by a very . . . striking woman. Well, when I say 'offered', I mean that she informed me that I would be assuming the position whether I liked it or not. Of course I told her that I would be pleased to place myself under her. Best not to rile her until I have more information, wouldn't you agree? And really, if I'm not careful, it could go to my head. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but . . . no. If you asked me, I'd have to go with 'kidnapping because I'm just that good and she had to have me'.
Fortunately, I am always careful, and as soon as I can secure a terminal, Jack is going to get every bit of information I can dig up on Ms. Elizabeth Sayre.
In the meantime, however, I have a job to do. She is paying me, and it would be dishonest not to give it my best effort before I turn her over to Torchwood. Having looked through the office I was given, I can understand her desperation. I'm beginning to feel a bit of it myself. From all appearances, the last person to hold this job was an absolute ape. The filing system is in some pictographic language I'm not familiar with, and I can still tell that it isn't being properly utilised. I'm certain that "three tentacles around a goat in a bikini" isn't the proper location for three antique biscuits, a discarded pair of knickers, and a brochure on the relaxing properties of swamp slime. I've my work cut out for me, if all the files are in this state.
I've also been set the task of updating the brochures. Like the aforementioned pamphlet on slime, they're all horribly out of date. There hasn't been a swamp in this region of world in . . . well. Quite a long time. So, for a new brochure, I'm thinking . . . 'Come to Camp and study the unlife cycle of the victus mortuus! Follow them when they rise from the grave; witness the marvel of the combined feeding and species propagation acts as they feast on the locals; view their tragic and inevitable destruction. This ecotour is "BYOS" - Bring Your Own Shotgun. 15.6mm bore or higher recommended.' Not bad, right? I'd visit.
And that's just a warm-up. 'Experience life as never before - through the eyes of the opposite gender, or even an animal.' 'Our patented process lets you literally walk a mile in someone else's shoes.' 'Do you ever wonder where petrol will come from in the future? Learn how to milk a robotic cow and see for yourself the answer to our fossil fuel problems.' Plenty to write home about, don't you think?
Unless home is Torchwood. This is all old hat, honestly. Still, I'm already beginning to get a bit homesick. It's the sheep, you see. The ones here don't have fangs. I know, isn't it unnatural?
Poll Vote!