app: the games
Jun. 10th, 2015 09:04 pmOUT of CHARACTER
Name: Jo
Other characters: Anna of Arendelle, Oceana, Porrim, Ransom Averell
IN CHARACTER
Name: Richard "Rick" Ford
Alias: Many, many over the course of his career. Often goes by 'Ford' in the field and to his colleagues.
Fandom: Spy (2015)
Canon point/AU: Post-movie
Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
intenserer
PB: Ford is played by Jason Statham.
Age: Unknown in canon. I place him at around 42.
History: Not much is told about Rick Ford in Spy--which is apt, considering that he's a CIA agent. He's British, a Londoner based on his accent, but we can assume that at some point he emigrated to the United States to work with the CIA. I'm headcanoning that he worked with MI6 before that, before taking a better opportunity in the US.
His world setting is very much based in reality--where drug lords and nuclear weapons are a very real threat. Throughout the movie, he graces us with snippets of his history--describing various situations he's found himself in--but it's unclear how much of what he says is actually true, since much of it seems too ludicrous to be true. His personal life is a mystery, and he seems to prefer to keep it that way. Something that is made clear, however, is that he's been pretty promiscuous--one of the desk agents in Susan's department sees a dick pic taken by a perpetrator and mutters that "Ford's is bigger," and he sleeps with Susan at the end of the movie. This suggests that he isn't married or in a serious relationship, and any kids he might have are likely illegitimate and unknown to Ford.
Presentation: It's clear that there is a great disparity between the way Ford thinks he presents himself (mysterious + intense) and the way he actually presents himself (full of shit). Everything he does works to present the image of an international superspy who's been there, done that, been tortured by the natives. His favorite hobby, telling people all the shit he's been in, tends to get pretty graphic--i.e. saying that his left arm was once ripped clean off and then reattached with his right arm. He doesn't censor himself, and he swears a lot, which is only accentuated by his heavy Cockney.
Ford does nothing to hide his feelings or make uncomfortable situations less uncomfortable. He speaks his mind, and loudly, and profanely, and doesn't hold back his anger. He is aggressively physical--slamming fists on tables, shouting, threatening, and his stature makes him someone you don't want up in your space when he's like that. But he also presents himself as exceedingly capable--repeatedly telling Susan "I'm not going to let you fuck this up," suggesting that he can do this job better than anyone.
He is also impulsive--when his boss, Crocker, makes it clear that Susan (a desk jockey) will be sent on an undercover mission in lieu of the regular field agents, Ford throws a temper tantrum, swears a lot, and quits on the spot. He then goes on a rogue mission of his own, travelling to Europe to track down Susan's target himself and attempting to hack into CIA intelligence. Unfortunately, he has a lack of self-awareness that means he doesn't notice that he is constantly and routinely fucking up the mission, making things more difficult for Susan, and missing out on key clues that put his life and others' lives in danger. He is observant about all the wrong things, blinded by his need to prove himself superior. He is the Alpha Male, or so he'd like to believe.
Motivations:
It's pretty obvious just by looking at his behavior that Rick is motivated quite a bit by how people perceive him. He wouldn't spend so much time talking about all the crazy shit he's done if he didn't give a shit about peoples' idea of him. He wants to be seen as the ultimate badass, to be respected and maybe even feared for how absolutely hardcore he is.
Other than that, he's pretty blissfully unaware of a lot of his surroundings, which is ironic considering the fact that his job is pretty much the opposite. He doesn't seem to take a lot of stock in simple observation (not noticing his stupid Louis Vuitton backpack is being switched for one containing a bomb, failing to realize that he's sailing off on a lake with no outlet instead of the open sea), instead relying on gut instinct. He expects himself to be able to succeed using only his gut and his heart and his own two hands (which he once gnawed off himself to escape a tank of swimming sharks, only to be reattached at a later date). And when this doesn't align with reality, he accepts that with frank and straightforward bluntness. He might bluster about having made a mistake, but at the end of the day someone managed to get the job done, and he can just as easily make up a different ending during his countless retellings.
He also has a bit of a tendency to think with his dick instead of his brain. Even though it's highly unprofessional, he can't help but use his workplace as a dating pool, because it's easy and he doesn't have to put too much effort into lying about his job or looking suspicious when he has to faff off to Budapest for a mission in the middle of a date. But it's every man's dream: the whole secret agent bit, plus the ability to charm his way into a woman's pants with an intense stare and charmingly rough language. In his mind, he's been through enough shit to more than earn the right to sleep around carelessly.
Setting: Honestly, Ford won't be too perturbed by the whole thing, at least not at first. He's been captured/kidnapped quite a few times over the course of his career as a secret agent, so he's going to assume this is some charade put on by a criminal mastermind to torture him, or something equally ridiculous. For that reason, he'll likely play along with the Arenas, hoping to gain the trust of his captors so he can plot his ~grand escape~ right under their noses.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread:
What's that, then? You want my feelin's on my loss, eh? I tell you what, 'oever the fuck you are--
[It doesn't take much to get Rick Ford all riled up, that much is clear immediately. As soon as he's conscious, he's bolt upright, mind racing, brow set low and his expression irritated. Usually he can plot a cohesive map of how he's arrived in even an undisclosed location, but he was minding his own fucking business, enjoying a week of downtime in Prague with Susan when suddenly he was fucking zapped into some kind of sick cockfight, only with people instead of chickens.
God, he hates bloody chickens. He'll never forget the time he had to chew his way through a coopful of the hungry little beasts with his hands tied behind his back. Blindfolded.
Ford huffs into the recorder, squeezing the little device in his hand to see if he can just crush it. To his dismay, he finds that he can't.]
I see you twats have appropriated a supply of Adamantium. 'S fuckin' illegal, that is, I'll be reporting you to whoever the fuck it is 'ho's in charge of ethical trade violations. And to answer your question, I've literally had over a hundred types of poison injected into my tongue and lived to tell the tale. I've had my heart stopped by a thousand volts of direct electrical current and I'm still fuckin' 'ere. So don't expect me to wax poetic because I was shot through the back with an arrow by some fucking coward Robin Hood cunt.
[With that, he slams the recorder down on the table next to the shitty cot they've laid him out on and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Enough of this shit. Time to find himself a gun and blaze out of this bitch.]
Prose:
Even though he's still not exactly sure what the hell is going on here, Ford's determined that if these Gamemaker twats want a show, he's going to give them one. He swaggers in, all intimidation and rough charm, eyes like flint under a stormy brow, and squares himself facing them in the center of the room. Agent Ford jerks his chin up at the assembled watchers.
"Oy. You the cunts I'm meant to be impressing, then? Right. See, I don't have to try and impress anyone. I'm Rick fucking Ford, right?"
He glances around at the racks of weapons. Swords--not his thing. Knives, sure. But not as impressive as--ah, yes. A gun. He strides over to the rack of firearms, picks up a pistol. A weighty thing, sleek steel. Not his Glock, but it'll do. With practiced, easy movements, he loads the clip into the gun, raises it, and fires off six quick shots straight into the forcefield that protects the Gamemakers. He snorts.
"Worth a shot," he mutters, almost to himself, as he swings round, firing a shot into each of the training dummies situated around the room. Each one hits its mark, either in the center of the forehead or right in the heart. When his clip is spent, Ford gives the pistol a neat twirl, blowing away the gunsmoke like he's James Bond. He can't resist giving in to theatrics. Whoever these twats are, they had damn well better be impressed.
What is your character scored: I would score Ford at a 10 or an 11. He is a trained CIA agent with many years of field experience, and exaggeration or no, he has seen a lot of extremely deadly and dangerous situations and lived to tell the tale. He's experienced in long-range and hand-to-hand combat and is in peak physical condition. In addition, he's not hesitant or afraid when it comes to killing people.
As far as his personality goes, even though he's not the most charismatic person on earth, Ford does have the ability to manipulate his personality as he sees fit, and he's also very good at working the ladies' man angle, so he has that going for him.
Token: Although I'm sure he'd be more than happy if his token were a fucking gun, since that isn't possible, it will instead be a leather Louis Vuitton keyfob. So useful.
Name: Jo
Other characters: Anna of Arendelle, Oceana, Porrim, Ransom Averell
IN CHARACTER
Name: Richard "Rick" Ford
Alias: Many, many over the course of his career. Often goes by 'Ford' in the field and to his colleagues.
Fandom: Spy (2015)
Canon point/AU: Post-movie
Journal:
intensererPB: Ford is played by Jason Statham.
Age: Unknown in canon. I place him at around 42.
History: Not much is told about Rick Ford in Spy--which is apt, considering that he's a CIA agent. He's British, a Londoner based on his accent, but we can assume that at some point he emigrated to the United States to work with the CIA. I'm headcanoning that he worked with MI6 before that, before taking a better opportunity in the US.
His world setting is very much based in reality--where drug lords and nuclear weapons are a very real threat. Throughout the movie, he graces us with snippets of his history--describing various situations he's found himself in--but it's unclear how much of what he says is actually true, since much of it seems too ludicrous to be true. His personal life is a mystery, and he seems to prefer to keep it that way. Something that is made clear, however, is that he's been pretty promiscuous--one of the desk agents in Susan's department sees a dick pic taken by a perpetrator and mutters that "Ford's is bigger," and he sleeps with Susan at the end of the movie. This suggests that he isn't married or in a serious relationship, and any kids he might have are likely illegitimate and unknown to Ford.
Presentation: It's clear that there is a great disparity between the way Ford thinks he presents himself (mysterious + intense) and the way he actually presents himself (full of shit). Everything he does works to present the image of an international superspy who's been there, done that, been tortured by the natives. His favorite hobby, telling people all the shit he's been in, tends to get pretty graphic--i.e. saying that his left arm was once ripped clean off and then reattached with his right arm. He doesn't censor himself, and he swears a lot, which is only accentuated by his heavy Cockney.
Ford does nothing to hide his feelings or make uncomfortable situations less uncomfortable. He speaks his mind, and loudly, and profanely, and doesn't hold back his anger. He is aggressively physical--slamming fists on tables, shouting, threatening, and his stature makes him someone you don't want up in your space when he's like that. But he also presents himself as exceedingly capable--repeatedly telling Susan "I'm not going to let you fuck this up," suggesting that he can do this job better than anyone.
He is also impulsive--when his boss, Crocker, makes it clear that Susan (a desk jockey) will be sent on an undercover mission in lieu of the regular field agents, Ford throws a temper tantrum, swears a lot, and quits on the spot. He then goes on a rogue mission of his own, travelling to Europe to track down Susan's target himself and attempting to hack into CIA intelligence. Unfortunately, he has a lack of self-awareness that means he doesn't notice that he is constantly and routinely fucking up the mission, making things more difficult for Susan, and missing out on key clues that put his life and others' lives in danger. He is observant about all the wrong things, blinded by his need to prove himself superior. He is the Alpha Male, or so he'd like to believe.
Motivations:
It's pretty obvious just by looking at his behavior that Rick is motivated quite a bit by how people perceive him. He wouldn't spend so much time talking about all the crazy shit he's done if he didn't give a shit about peoples' idea of him. He wants to be seen as the ultimate badass, to be respected and maybe even feared for how absolutely hardcore he is.
Other than that, he's pretty blissfully unaware of a lot of his surroundings, which is ironic considering the fact that his job is pretty much the opposite. He doesn't seem to take a lot of stock in simple observation (not noticing his stupid Louis Vuitton backpack is being switched for one containing a bomb, failing to realize that he's sailing off on a lake with no outlet instead of the open sea), instead relying on gut instinct. He expects himself to be able to succeed using only his gut and his heart and his own two hands (which he once gnawed off himself to escape a tank of swimming sharks, only to be reattached at a later date). And when this doesn't align with reality, he accepts that with frank and straightforward bluntness. He might bluster about having made a mistake, but at the end of the day someone managed to get the job done, and he can just as easily make up a different ending during his countless retellings.
He also has a bit of a tendency to think with his dick instead of his brain. Even though it's highly unprofessional, he can't help but use his workplace as a dating pool, because it's easy and he doesn't have to put too much effort into lying about his job or looking suspicious when he has to faff off to Budapest for a mission in the middle of a date. But it's every man's dream: the whole secret agent bit, plus the ability to charm his way into a woman's pants with an intense stare and charmingly rough language. In his mind, he's been through enough shit to more than earn the right to sleep around carelessly.
Setting: Honestly, Ford won't be too perturbed by the whole thing, at least not at first. He's been captured/kidnapped quite a few times over the course of his career as a secret agent, so he's going to assume this is some charade put on by a criminal mastermind to torture him, or something equally ridiculous. For that reason, he'll likely play along with the Arenas, hoping to gain the trust of his captors so he can plot his ~grand escape~ right under their noses.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread:
What's that, then? You want my feelin's on my loss, eh? I tell you what, 'oever the fuck you are--
[It doesn't take much to get Rick Ford all riled up, that much is clear immediately. As soon as he's conscious, he's bolt upright, mind racing, brow set low and his expression irritated. Usually he can plot a cohesive map of how he's arrived in even an undisclosed location, but he was minding his own fucking business, enjoying a week of downtime in Prague with Susan when suddenly he was fucking zapped into some kind of sick cockfight, only with people instead of chickens.
God, he hates bloody chickens. He'll never forget the time he had to chew his way through a coopful of the hungry little beasts with his hands tied behind his back. Blindfolded.
Ford huffs into the recorder, squeezing the little device in his hand to see if he can just crush it. To his dismay, he finds that he can't.]
I see you twats have appropriated a supply of Adamantium. 'S fuckin' illegal, that is, I'll be reporting you to whoever the fuck it is 'ho's in charge of ethical trade violations. And to answer your question, I've literally had over a hundred types of poison injected into my tongue and lived to tell the tale. I've had my heart stopped by a thousand volts of direct electrical current and I'm still fuckin' 'ere. So don't expect me to wax poetic because I was shot through the back with an arrow by some fucking coward Robin Hood cunt.
[With that, he slams the recorder down on the table next to the shitty cot they've laid him out on and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Enough of this shit. Time to find himself a gun and blaze out of this bitch.]
Prose:
Even though he's still not exactly sure what the hell is going on here, Ford's determined that if these Gamemaker twats want a show, he's going to give them one. He swaggers in, all intimidation and rough charm, eyes like flint under a stormy brow, and squares himself facing them in the center of the room. Agent Ford jerks his chin up at the assembled watchers.
"Oy. You the cunts I'm meant to be impressing, then? Right. See, I don't have to try and impress anyone. I'm Rick fucking Ford, right?"
He glances around at the racks of weapons. Swords--not his thing. Knives, sure. But not as impressive as--ah, yes. A gun. He strides over to the rack of firearms, picks up a pistol. A weighty thing, sleek steel. Not his Glock, but it'll do. With practiced, easy movements, he loads the clip into the gun, raises it, and fires off six quick shots straight into the forcefield that protects the Gamemakers. He snorts.
"Worth a shot," he mutters, almost to himself, as he swings round, firing a shot into each of the training dummies situated around the room. Each one hits its mark, either in the center of the forehead or right in the heart. When his clip is spent, Ford gives the pistol a neat twirl, blowing away the gunsmoke like he's James Bond. He can't resist giving in to theatrics. Whoever these twats are, they had damn well better be impressed.
What is your character scored: I would score Ford at a 10 or an 11. He is a trained CIA agent with many years of field experience, and exaggeration or no, he has seen a lot of extremely deadly and dangerous situations and lived to tell the tale. He's experienced in long-range and hand-to-hand combat and is in peak physical condition. In addition, he's not hesitant or afraid when it comes to killing people.
As far as his personality goes, even though he's not the most charismatic person on earth, Ford does have the ability to manipulate his personality as he sees fit, and he's also very good at working the ladies' man angle, so he has that going for him.
Token: Although I'm sure he'd be more than happy if his token were a fucking gun, since that isn't possible, it will instead be a leather Louis Vuitton keyfob. So useful.
