Post by danyo on May 31, 2012 15:18:49 GMT -6
[atrb=style,width: 500px; background-color: B9B9B9; border: 10px dashed #754A4A; border-right: 15px solid #754A4A; border-left: 15px solid #754A4A; padding: 5px, bTable][th] isaac murphy OFFICER, LAW ENFORCEMENT, JAMES FRANCO | |
 the basics FULL NAME isaac holden murphy AGE & DOB 27 | October 12th, 1985 HOMETOWN san diego, CA ETHNICITY caucasian LANGUAGES SPOKEN english, minimal italian SEXUAL ORIENTATION heterosexual HAIR COLOR dark brown EYE COLOR brown HEIGHT & WEIGHT 5'10" | 180 DISTINGUISHING MARKS birthmark on his right shoulder shaped like a twister. or a tree. LIKES/DISLIKES beer bottles blondes pink floyd hot dogs in tin foil kurt vonnegut going to the movies pool the desert labrador retrievers three's company crowded buses wearing suits celine dion traveling night clubs public speaking snow hairless cats too many morals greeting cards STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES has a knack for rolling with the punches and is cool under pressure finds it hard to get attached or care about anything, is unreliable in a lot of ways SECRETS his involvement with the giovannis, has a little bit of a death wish | in depth |
PERSONALITY
"Hey man, whatever."
Isaac is good at maintaining the status quo. He sort of lost any ambition he might have had after his dad died. He's been a lot of coulds but plenty more won'ts. Life just took on a pointless aspect that he's trying to make sense of, but most of the time that takes more effort than he's willing to give. Fact is, it's easier to turn to the bottle. Isaac is aware that it's not fair to his girlfriend, but it's one of those things that can't be helped. As long as she doesn't catch on to how fucking depressive his life angle truly is, what's the harm?
He finds it easy to get along with people, which probably has a lot to do with his 'go with the flow' attitude that keeps him drifting through the motions. It's certainly made him popular with the Giovannis. Despite appearances and easy grin, Isaac doesn't take too well to following orders. He may nod and let someone ramble out commands, but honestly when it comes down to it, he doesn't give a fuck. Without fail, he will quietly do what he was planning on doing every time.
Isaac is good at maintaining the status quo. He sort of lost any ambition he might have had after his dad died. He's been a lot of coulds but plenty more won'ts. Life just took on a pointless aspect that he's trying to make sense of, but most of the time that takes more effort than he's willing to give. Fact is, it's easier to turn to the bottle. Isaac is aware that it's not fair to his girlfriend, but it's one of those things that can't be helped. As long as she doesn't catch on to how fucking depressive his life angle truly is, what's the harm?
He finds it easy to get along with people, which probably has a lot to do with his 'go with the flow' attitude that keeps him drifting through the motions. It's certainly made him popular with the Giovannis. Despite appearances and easy grin, Isaac doesn't take too well to following orders. He may nod and let someone ramble out commands, but honestly when it comes down to it, he doesn't give a fuck. Without fail, he will quietly do what he was planning on doing every time.
FAMILY LIFE
Isaac was born the younger of two boys to the Murphy couple. Growing up, he was subjected to noogies, wet willies, wedgies- the whole shebang.The better part of his childhood, while sadly he can't remember most of it, must have been paradise. According to his mother, he was the shadow to his older brother's Peter Pan. There wasn't anything Trenton did that Isaac didn't at least try- even if Trent was prone to tell him to get lost and bully him when having a mini-me became too much. The Murphys lived in a modest two-bedroom house in Clairemont on Jason's salary as a cop. They didn't have everything, but it was enough for Isaac, who was content to pedal his bike down the street, get flung down their neighbors slip and slide, and sound off until the sun went down. And then after that if his mom didn't bust his chops for being too noisy.
Shit changed drastically when Dad was killed on duty. Izzy was eight at the time, Trent was thirteen and Camilla was devastated. It's fair to say that the family was never able to piece themselves together again after the hole Jason left. The house lost warmth, his mother went tight around the mouth and the eyes. Izzy stopped attaching himself to Trent and didn't talk as much as he used to. No one seemed to notice. They didn't say much either. That's the way Isaac remembers his family today, and they've been drifting apart ever since.
Shit changed drastically when Dad was killed on duty. Izzy was eight at the time, Trent was thirteen and Camilla was devastated. It's fair to say that the family was never able to piece themselves together again after the hole Jason left. The house lost warmth, his mother went tight around the mouth and the eyes. Izzy stopped attaching himself to Trent and didn't talk as much as he used to. No one seemed to notice. They didn't say much either. That's the way Isaac remembers his family today, and they've been drifting apart ever since.
PARENTS/SIBLINGS
Jason Murphy - died at 41, former police officer, father, killed in 1993
Camilla Murphy - 58, unemployed, mother, distant
Trenton Murphy - 32, real estate agent, brother, distant
Camilla Murphy - 58, unemployed, mother, distant
Trenton Murphy - 32, real estate agent, brother, distant
HISTORY
SUNNY DOWN SNUFF
Isaac was born into a considerably happy home, you know, as far as those things go. The part of San Diego his family lived in was a ten minute drive from the beach and there was no shortage of good weather. After his father was killed was when it all went down the crapper, so to speak. Isaac had only been eight when two of his dad's pals showed up at the door in uniform to have a little chat with Mrs. Murphy that ended with her collapsing to the tile of the kitchen floor. Still, the hole in the family was made a permanent fixture. Both through his mother's long-enduring misery which escalated into depression severe enough to warrant medical intervention and his brother's shortened fuse.
The accident had drawn attention from a local paper. Mrs. Murphy did her best to keep the headlines away from her sons- and to her credit she did a pretty good job of that. The problem was that after the murder was publicized, there wasn't a friend's house that Izzy or Trent could stop by without the awkward, yet well-intentioned, condolences of a parent. Instead of letting it get to him, Isaac learned to unplug. Pot helped a lot with that, and instead of pushing himself academically, Izzy spent most of his high school career stoned out of his mind, just barely skating by. He found that the Murphy family tragedy made people more inclined to give him a free pass and look the other way. It wasn't like he was lighting spliffs on the front lawn, but there had been a couple of times that old acquaintances of his dad had opted to give him warnings instead of marks on his record. A few of them even got it into his head that he needed a role model and he'd had to stifle laughter through a number of well-intentioned chats while completely blazed.
He often wished his mother had been stronger. It was like she could only see how her husband's death had afftected her. She let being a widow consume her and forgot all about being a mother. It was fair to say Isaac resented her for that. Probably had something to do with his choice to enroll in the police academy right after graduating high school.
IN BLACK AND BLUE
Not that he ever signed himself up for a headcheck, but Isaac is aware there's something sick behind need to pick up the title of Officer Murphy that his father left behind. When he was younger, he dreamed about flying planes, but lacked the follow-through to pursue it as anything more than a kid's wishful thinking. Becoming a cop was easier, and though he's not quick to admit it, he finds it really satisfying to be able to carry a gun on the job- even if the chances of being able to use it on duty are typically zilch to slim. Isaac surprised those closest to him with the way he took to police work, especially with his 'couldn't give less of a shit' attitude. The uniform, the routine, for some reason it all made sense to him. When he graduated the police academy, he was transferred to the department in Valkyrie, and it was sayonara San Diego. He wasn't exactly sad to leave any of it behind.
As the years got on in his career, Isaac allowed himself to be pulled behind the 'blue curtain'- the adorable term criminologists use when referring to the jaded fucking outlook cops are subject to. The whole cops versus the rest of society routine. Those in uniform were separate from everyone else. They were hated. Only other cops could fully grip how it felt. Hours of unrewarded boredom and stifling routine paired with constant contact with the most vile scumbags the city had to offer would make anyone cynical if you kept at it long enough. Still, Isaac makes the best of it. He has no ambition to rise through the ranks, and doesn't sport a badge for the justice of it. Especially not in light of his under the table dealings with the Giavonnis, who have gone so far as to put him on their payroll. If you asked Isaac point blank why he had chosen to be an officer, after dragging it out and shooting the shit, the reason would eventually come down to his father.
When Jason was first killed, people thought Isaac was too young to handle it. He had to be content crying because, as his mother put it 'daddy was never coming home'. Once he became a cop, he was able to find out the full details of the incident. On that afternoon in 1994, members of a local cartel had been holed up in a skeevy motel room in Pacific Beach. Officers Murphy and Reid had been sent over on a tip. The whole thing turned out to be a clusterfuck. The amount of heroin held up in the room had been seriously underestimated, and the dealers were on edge about it. One of the dealers started mouthing off, Reid pulled his gun and without hesitation, dealer one's backup pulled his and started popping off shots. Reid was able to lunge out of the way, but Murphy took one straight through the eye as he crouched for cover. Bang. Clean, right in the brain. Instant shutdown, and a pool of blood. Reid got out and called for backup, but it was too late to do anything for Murphy. Dealer two, out on parole, decided he wanted a count of cop killing added to his rep when he went back into prison. He caved in Murphy's head with a few effective stomps of his Timbaland size 8 1/2 boots. The motel had to replace the carpeting.
IF I WERE A CARPENTER
As far as love goes, Isaac's been as uninvolved in relationships as he has unpredictable. He's been just as comfortable with the one-night stands as he has longer stints of committment. Currently, he's got a girlfriend of two years that he met in a bar in town, and though he's not really the type to fall for the usual spiel, he's pretty sure he's in love with her. She doesn't seem to mind gaps in conversation or late night shifts. It's gotten to the point where he slows down every time he walks by an engagement ring store window, anyways. That's gotta mean something. She's the best thing that's happened to him in awhile. He just hopes he doesn't fuck it up, but the odds are against him when four beers just as easily turned into five, and he's not telling the source of the miraculous extra dough he steadily comes by following a late night.
[/td][/tr]Isaac was born into a considerably happy home, you know, as far as those things go. The part of San Diego his family lived in was a ten minute drive from the beach and there was no shortage of good weather. After his father was killed was when it all went down the crapper, so to speak. Isaac had only been eight when two of his dad's pals showed up at the door in uniform to have a little chat with Mrs. Murphy that ended with her collapsing to the tile of the kitchen floor. Still, the hole in the family was made a permanent fixture. Both through his mother's long-enduring misery which escalated into depression severe enough to warrant medical intervention and his brother's shortened fuse.
The accident had drawn attention from a local paper. Mrs. Murphy did her best to keep the headlines away from her sons- and to her credit she did a pretty good job of that. The problem was that after the murder was publicized, there wasn't a friend's house that Izzy or Trent could stop by without the awkward, yet well-intentioned, condolences of a parent. Instead of letting it get to him, Isaac learned to unplug. Pot helped a lot with that, and instead of pushing himself academically, Izzy spent most of his high school career stoned out of his mind, just barely skating by. He found that the Murphy family tragedy made people more inclined to give him a free pass and look the other way. It wasn't like he was lighting spliffs on the front lawn, but there had been a couple of times that old acquaintances of his dad had opted to give him warnings instead of marks on his record. A few of them even got it into his head that he needed a role model and he'd had to stifle laughter through a number of well-intentioned chats while completely blazed.
He often wished his mother had been stronger. It was like she could only see how her husband's death had afftected her. She let being a widow consume her and forgot all about being a mother. It was fair to say Isaac resented her for that. Probably had something to do with his choice to enroll in the police academy right after graduating high school.
IN BLACK AND BLUE
Not that he ever signed himself up for a headcheck, but Isaac is aware there's something sick behind need to pick up the title of Officer Murphy that his father left behind. When he was younger, he dreamed about flying planes, but lacked the follow-through to pursue it as anything more than a kid's wishful thinking. Becoming a cop was easier, and though he's not quick to admit it, he finds it really satisfying to be able to carry a gun on the job- even if the chances of being able to use it on duty are typically zilch to slim. Isaac surprised those closest to him with the way he took to police work, especially with his 'couldn't give less of a shit' attitude. The uniform, the routine, for some reason it all made sense to him. When he graduated the police academy, he was transferred to the department in Valkyrie, and it was sayonara San Diego. He wasn't exactly sad to leave any of it behind.
As the years got on in his career, Isaac allowed himself to be pulled behind the 'blue curtain'- the adorable term criminologists use when referring to the jaded fucking outlook cops are subject to. The whole cops versus the rest of society routine. Those in uniform were separate from everyone else. They were hated. Only other cops could fully grip how it felt. Hours of unrewarded boredom and stifling routine paired with constant contact with the most vile scumbags the city had to offer would make anyone cynical if you kept at it long enough. Still, Isaac makes the best of it. He has no ambition to rise through the ranks, and doesn't sport a badge for the justice of it. Especially not in light of his under the table dealings with the Giavonnis, who have gone so far as to put him on their payroll. If you asked Isaac point blank why he had chosen to be an officer, after dragging it out and shooting the shit, the reason would eventually come down to his father.
When Jason was first killed, people thought Isaac was too young to handle it. He had to be content crying because, as his mother put it 'daddy was never coming home'. Once he became a cop, he was able to find out the full details of the incident. On that afternoon in 1994, members of a local cartel had been holed up in a skeevy motel room in Pacific Beach. Officers Murphy and Reid had been sent over on a tip. The whole thing turned out to be a clusterfuck. The amount of heroin held up in the room had been seriously underestimated, and the dealers were on edge about it. One of the dealers started mouthing off, Reid pulled his gun and without hesitation, dealer one's backup pulled his and started popping off shots. Reid was able to lunge out of the way, but Murphy took one straight through the eye as he crouched for cover. Bang. Clean, right in the brain. Instant shutdown, and a pool of blood. Reid got out and called for backup, but it was too late to do anything for Murphy. Dealer two, out on parole, decided he wanted a count of cop killing added to his rep when he went back into prison. He caved in Murphy's head with a few effective stomps of his Timbaland size 8 1/2 boots. The motel had to replace the carpeting.
IF I WERE A CARPENTER
As far as love goes, Isaac's been as uninvolved in relationships as he has unpredictable. He's been just as comfortable with the one-night stands as he has longer stints of committment. Currently, he's got a girlfriend of two years that he met in a bar in town, and though he's not really the type to fall for the usual spiel, he's pretty sure he's in love with her. She doesn't seem to mind gaps in conversation or late night shifts. It's gotten to the point where he slows down every time he walks by an engagement ring store window, anyways. That's gotta mean something. She's the best thing that's happened to him in awhile. He just hopes he doesn't fuck it up, but the odds are against him when four beers just as easily turned into five, and he's not telling the source of the miraculous extra dough he steadily comes by following a late night.
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the player
ALIAS dan.
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE seven.
OTHER CHARACTERS n/a
HOW'D YOU FIND US? ad on caution.
RP SAMPLE
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE seven.
OTHER CHARACTERS n/a
HOW'D YOU FIND US? ad on caution.
RP SAMPLE
Adjusting to even the smallest semblance of routine was not as exciting as James had expected. In fact, he found that living an ordinary life with a stable job and the same place to come home to every night if he so chose to be almost tiring. That wasn't to say that he wanted to go back to the way he used to be, ever if he could help it. But he couldn't help but feel above the standard way of living that he had been missing out on all this time. This is ludicrous, James would think with disbelief, as he passed people on the street on his way to work and back. Now that he was back among the world of the healthy and sober, he was sorry to find that a lot of things had lost their mystique. He had become part of the clockwork puzzle that he had once railed against so vehemently. The worst part about it was that he didn't have the skills or the means to do anything really innovative. He couldn't fly planes or scale mountains for a living. Oh, he was always looking for opportunities, but in the meantime he had to be grateful for the job that he had. Which was difficult at times, but he stuck with it. That said, finding a carnival to work was become an increasing possibility.
Halfway through his shift of that day, James was two annoyed customers down and ready for a break. It had to be said that customer service was not his specialty, and ironically jobs that involved it were nearly all he could qualify for. When he was milling around, putting cds back into their proper places, he just couldn't stop himself from spying on what sections people were browsing and then if it didn't suit his taste, out of the goodness of his heart he would try to correct them. Was that really so wrong? He didn't know how long he would stay employed at this rate, but fuck he would just ride that out as long as he could and practice his carny skills on the side. His manager seemed to like him anyways, which he figured was good for a few extra weeks. "Cutting for lunch," he announced after rapping on the man's open door and flashing him a toothy smile. James didn't stick around for the response, since the matter of his break wasn't a question. He was going to take it. After snagging his jacket from behind the counter, he nodded at the other girl on duty and sauntered out the front door. The dirty look that hit the back of his head went unnoticed.
Once outdoors, he fumbled for the cigarette pack and lighter in his pocket. Knocking out one, he lit it and took a few successive puffs. Only then was he ready for his little stroll. Yes, he was only supposed to take a half hour for lunch, but with business being slow and James being James his tended to draw out much longer than those of the other employees. The only reason he got away with it was that before heading back in, he made a point out of chatting someone up along the way and talking them into the store with their shared love for so and so and that he could make the clear show to his manager that with that extra time he was bringing in new business. Could that be said for the rest of the slacks? No. It wasn't his fault that they were too fucking stupid to think outside of the box. Plunging his hands into his pockets, James scanned the nearby buildings, deciding just where he would be getting his lunch that day. The deli on the corner, his usual haunt, sounded dull, and besides he had gotten into an argument with one of the workers there over Indian food and that needed a few weeks to blow over before he felt certain that they wouldn't spit in his food. Starbucks was a never. Decisions, decisions.
James found himself wandering off the beaten track, and it was there that he stumbled across The Gypsy Beat which gave him pause. Smirking, his eyes danced along the quaint little sign, the odd lighting through the window. Alright. He'd bite. He was hungry after all, and as much as he would like the rest of his shift to be spent on lunch, he wasn't exactly keen on being fired on this particular day. The weather could change, but that was how he felt at the moment. Flicking his cigarette to the ground he stomped it out and made his entrance. Expecting some rinky dink scenario in which he would have his cup of coffee and whatever else the waitress could sell him on, he had not expected to be shocked. Because he felt he knew every curve life could throw, rarely did James find that anything could shake him from his arrogant, comfortable air. He knew for a fact that the blonde a few tables away with her back turned was Penny before he even saw her face, and never did he ever expect to see her again. Unconsciously, his blue eyes had widened to a level that was exaggerated, even for a cartoon character as he scrutinized that fucking back.
"Sir?"
His attention snapped to the woman, another waitress who had a menu in her hand. She seemed uneasy for a second, but he quickly regained face and she continued, "Just one today?" "Yes," he answered after a quick clear of the throat. "Alright, I can help you right this w-." "I'd like to sit in her section," James cut in, smiling apologetically to keep on her good side. There was no point in being rude at this junction anyways, unless she didn't do as he asked. Fortunately, he didn't have to show his true colors as she escorted him to an empty booth by the window. The menu was slapped down in front of him, but he was too distracted to notice the force behind it. So he was costing her a dollar tip at most. Boo fucking hoo. He didn't even bother looking down at the laminated slab of paper, choosing to wait for Penny ( of course it was her, James didn't make mistakes ) to approach the booth. Running through his head were all the things he could say to her. The last time he had seen her- well. He couldn't remember the details exactly for reasons besides time. But he did know was that he had woken up to find her gone. No note. No sign. Nothing. Though he didn't have a set agenda, any stinging words he had been saving for this precise moment, he did know one thing. He wanted to make her feel like shit.
Finally, she started to make her way over. Since he had already recovered from the minor conniption started by Penny's back, James had the time to rearrange his features into the most terrible smirk he was capable of. "Isn't this a nice surprise?" he asked loudly. Resisting the urge to laugh, James knew the glint in his eye was probably borderline psychotic but he didn't care. He just didn't. Yes, it was petty to hold a grudge and yes, maybe he was a little glad that she wasn't dead in a gutter and looked like she had gotten herself clean in their separation but they had been in it together and she had jumped ship. And now she was going to have to own up to it.
Halfway through his shift of that day, James was two annoyed customers down and ready for a break. It had to be said that customer service was not his specialty, and ironically jobs that involved it were nearly all he could qualify for. When he was milling around, putting cds back into their proper places, he just couldn't stop himself from spying on what sections people were browsing and then if it didn't suit his taste, out of the goodness of his heart he would try to correct them. Was that really so wrong? He didn't know how long he would stay employed at this rate, but fuck he would just ride that out as long as he could and practice his carny skills on the side. His manager seemed to like him anyways, which he figured was good for a few extra weeks. "Cutting for lunch," he announced after rapping on the man's open door and flashing him a toothy smile. James didn't stick around for the response, since the matter of his break wasn't a question. He was going to take it. After snagging his jacket from behind the counter, he nodded at the other girl on duty and sauntered out the front door. The dirty look that hit the back of his head went unnoticed.
Once outdoors, he fumbled for the cigarette pack and lighter in his pocket. Knocking out one, he lit it and took a few successive puffs. Only then was he ready for his little stroll. Yes, he was only supposed to take a half hour for lunch, but with business being slow and James being James his tended to draw out much longer than those of the other employees. The only reason he got away with it was that before heading back in, he made a point out of chatting someone up along the way and talking them into the store with their shared love for so and so and that he could make the clear show to his manager that with that extra time he was bringing in new business. Could that be said for the rest of the slacks? No. It wasn't his fault that they were too fucking stupid to think outside of the box. Plunging his hands into his pockets, James scanned the nearby buildings, deciding just where he would be getting his lunch that day. The deli on the corner, his usual haunt, sounded dull, and besides he had gotten into an argument with one of the workers there over Indian food and that needed a few weeks to blow over before he felt certain that they wouldn't spit in his food. Starbucks was a never. Decisions, decisions.
James found himself wandering off the beaten track, and it was there that he stumbled across The Gypsy Beat which gave him pause. Smirking, his eyes danced along the quaint little sign, the odd lighting through the window. Alright. He'd bite. He was hungry after all, and as much as he would like the rest of his shift to be spent on lunch, he wasn't exactly keen on being fired on this particular day. The weather could change, but that was how he felt at the moment. Flicking his cigarette to the ground he stomped it out and made his entrance. Expecting some rinky dink scenario in which he would have his cup of coffee and whatever else the waitress could sell him on, he had not expected to be shocked. Because he felt he knew every curve life could throw, rarely did James find that anything could shake him from his arrogant, comfortable air. He knew for a fact that the blonde a few tables away with her back turned was Penny before he even saw her face, and never did he ever expect to see her again. Unconsciously, his blue eyes had widened to a level that was exaggerated, even for a cartoon character as he scrutinized that fucking back.
"Sir?"
His attention snapped to the woman, another waitress who had a menu in her hand. She seemed uneasy for a second, but he quickly regained face and she continued, "Just one today?" "Yes," he answered after a quick clear of the throat. "Alright, I can help you right this w-." "I'd like to sit in her section," James cut in, smiling apologetically to keep on her good side. There was no point in being rude at this junction anyways, unless she didn't do as he asked. Fortunately, he didn't have to show his true colors as she escorted him to an empty booth by the window. The menu was slapped down in front of him, but he was too distracted to notice the force behind it. So he was costing her a dollar tip at most. Boo fucking hoo. He didn't even bother looking down at the laminated slab of paper, choosing to wait for Penny ( of course it was her, James didn't make mistakes ) to approach the booth. Running through his head were all the things he could say to her. The last time he had seen her- well. He couldn't remember the details exactly for reasons besides time. But he did know was that he had woken up to find her gone. No note. No sign. Nothing. Though he didn't have a set agenda, any stinging words he had been saving for this precise moment, he did know one thing. He wanted to make her feel like shit.
Finally, she started to make her way over. Since he had already recovered from the minor conniption started by Penny's back, James had the time to rearrange his features into the most terrible smirk he was capable of. "Isn't this a nice surprise?" he asked loudly. Resisting the urge to laugh, James knew the glint in his eye was probably borderline psychotic but he didn't care. He just didn't. Yes, it was petty to hold a grudge and yes, maybe he was a little glad that she wasn't dead in a gutter and looked like she had gotten herself clean in their separation but they had been in it together and she had jumped ship. And now she was going to have to own up to it.
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