(no subject)

[chessmastered]

CHARACTER PROFILE

Name: Rudy Miller
Age: Nineteen
Birthdate: October 28, 1968 (canonically)
Birthplace: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Bloodtype: You are aware that attempting to discern personality traits based on a person's blood type is an illegitimate and unsupported "science", correct?
Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous, preference for right.
Eyesight: 20/20

Height: 5'9" (1.75m)
Weight: 150 lbs (68kg)
Hair: Perfect. Also brown.
Eyes: Dark brown.
Skin: Unblemished, very lightly tanned.
Other facial features: Never changes facial expression, save for in the event of a natural disaster.

Favourite food: Poutine, hamburgers, pizza. Also the neverending pasta bowl served on Tuesdays at a tiny hipster cafe a block from the U of T campus, because just because he fully intends to be richer than a boy king of Egypt someday doesn't mean there's no reason to be frugal with his finances. He's a guy of simple tastes in that something doesn't have to be fancy to make him happy with it, but he'll still eat filet mignon at a five-course meal with the best of them if the occasion calls for it.

Favourite colour: Greens and blues. Probably a dark green, primarily.

Favourite movies: The original Star Wars trilogy, Indiana Jones, and the like. Fun action and adventure movies are a lot more likely to catch his attention than ones involving interpersonal relationships as the driving force of the plot; comedies will bore him if they're too slapstick and chick flicks are right out, but something a little off-beat like Dogma would suit him fine. He's also fond of the classics, like Casablanca.

Favourite books: Lots of nonfiction, actually. Given the choice between a fantasy novel and a collection of writings by dead Greek philosophers, he'll take the philosophy. He likes books on game theory, he's read Marx and Machiavelli and Hobbes — basically, if it's political, economic, or philosophical in nature, he's probably devouring it. He also saves his most pretentious titles for when he intends to read in public somewhere because he's a tool that way. However, he does like some fiction: works by Dumas, Tom Sawyer, and other interesting adventure stories like that are usually good choices, and he's a fan of science fiction, too, though he was moreso when he was younger than he is now.

Favourite music: 70's heavy metal. Iron Maiden is his favorite band; as a kid he was a little too early for Metallica, but suffice to say the metal and punk rock scenes sustained him straight through the eighties.

Favourite animal: Dogs, ferrets, and rats, with a particular soft spot for beavers. Basically, if he can train it and it's faithful, he's probably fond of it. The beaver, on the other hand, comes from an incident at summer camp when he was twelve years old, in which he attempted to dam the river that ran through the camp in order to flood it and get everyone sent home. As it turned out, the river was far too deep for any human to dam — but a local homeless beaver saw no reason to let the beginnings of one go to waste, and finished it. Which summarily flooded the camp and caused a natural disaster. Suffice to say, Rudy was pleased, and since then has always had a special place in his heart for the noble beaver.

Favourite weather: Rain. He's less likely to be asked to participate in a sport if the field is getting rained out, and most of the ones he particular hates are outdoor ones.

Favourite sport/physical activity: No.

Preferred type: The key trait to getting past Rudy's impenetrable defenses, which to this day only one person has successfully managed and even then it was mostly by accident, is to accept the fact that Rudy cannot be told what to do. Rudy is going to be Rudy regardless of what anyone says or thinks about him, and you can either tag along or not — but either way, he's going. His preferred type is someone who never offers him advice or attempts to empathize with him because in Rudy's perspective, no one is ever going to be able to comprehend what he's thinking or feeling, and to attempt it is manipulative and fake. He hates the implication of being psychoanalyzed and will regularly be contrary just for the sake of being contrary if he thinks that's what's happening. So his preferred type, and the people who deal best with him, are the ones who know to simply let Rudy be Rudy, and go along with whatever idea he's gotten into his head (no matter how crazy, and there are indeed some crazy ones), and treat him like the irresistible force he is.

That said, his preferred type in boys is "open, friendly, blonde, laughs a lot, kind of awkward but loyal and devoted, also terrible at chess", by which he means, "his best friend Mike". As far as girls are concerned, he tends to end up with brunettes, and has the misfortune of being the standard Double Date assigned to the perpetually psychotic friend of whatever girl Mike happens to be dating at the time, which he always does faithfully, while never abridging his own unpleasantness and disdain for the whole thing in the process. He has had a lot of shoes thrown at his head as a result. He also hates every one of Mike's girlfriends and systematically and ruthlessly critiques them whenever they're not around.

Best subject: Everything.


Disliked food: Tea. Also anything too hipster or overly pretentious, like those hundred-dollar plates that consist of about three bites of food arranged in delicate ways with inedible adornments everywhere and a tasteful smear of colorful sauce underneath. He'll eat it, naturally, and he might remark on it in sotto voce running commentary depending on the situation, but what's the point of eating if there's no food, seriously.

Disliked colour: He doesn't have one, but if you asked him, he'd probably quote a hexidecimal code for some obscure shade of orange-brown-gray at you, just to be difficult.

Disliked movies: Chick flicks, romantic comedies, and slapstick comedies. He's also difficult when it comes to slasher flicks and horror because he'll be that asshole who sits there dryly pointing out how unrealistic it is and all the mistakes the heroes are making as they go.

Disliked books: Self-help books.

Disliked music: Bubblegum pop. Why would you ever.

Disliked animal: Purse dogs. Why would you ever.

Disliked weather: Warm sun, blue skies, seventy degrees — the perfect day for a baseball game. Blech.

Disliked sport/physical activity: All of them.

Disliked type: Girls who try too hard, girls too focused on stereotypical notions of beauty, girls who giggle too much, girls who cannot hold a basic conversation with him, girls who think of him as some kind of project to redeem or make better, and girls who throw shoes at his head.

Worst subject: None.


Basic nature: Aloof, impersonal, deadpan, and sarcastic. A canonblind player once described Rudy as "the smartest person in the room, and he makes sure you know it". As he's gotten older, he's gotten more socially adept in that he doesn't instinctively and automatically stonewall any attempts at interpersonal contact right off the bat, but in exchange, he's also become more manipulative. He's not particularly good with empathy and has been described before as a "heroic sociopath", but he does have feelings; he's just relatively bad at expressing them and generally prefers to suppress them instead, anyway. He is, however, fiercely loyal to the people who earn it, and he can be both witty and engaging when he wants to. Mostly, though, he's the guy who targets flaws like they're blood in the water and has absolutely no qualms about pointing them out where he sees them.

Daily rituals: Personal grooming — his hair is always impeccable and he keeps himself clean-shaven and smelling attractive. He also habitually checks the New York Stock Exchange, reads the world news, talks to Mike, and adds a chalk tally mark to his wall.

Spends money on: Textbooks, newspaper subscriptions, the occasional Oxford shirt, his car, his stock investments (usually with notable returns), and Mike.

Currently wants: Sony to invent a Walkman radio with all the capabilities of an iPod. He refuses to surrender his Walkman radio. No matter how much Mike attempts to persuade him into getting an iPod, Rudy likes his radio and that is that.

Kinsey rating: More attempts at psychoanalysis. As far as Rudy's concerned, he's an X, because he really doesn't have a whole lot of interest in sex in general? He's sort of oddly cerebral in that, intellectually speaking, he can appreciate aesthetics and understand why someone would be attracted to this person or that person, but he's also emotionally withdrawn enough that he doesn't really do attraction. Interest, curiosity, and eventual attachment, yes, but he's really hard to crack on an emotional level. That said, he also doesn't seem to be the type to discriminate between the sexes, so he could go either way, ultimately.

Marital status: Single, and firmly intent on staying that way until Mike eventually comes to the conclusion that the two of them are going to be heterosexual lifemates, or possibly homosexual ones, but either way Mike is his and that is simply how it goes.

Current occupation: Student at University of Toronto, double-majoring in business and prelaw with the intention of going on into a Masters programme that will allow him to get his JD and MBA simultaneously. After which he will take over the world. If he does ultimately pick up a minor, rest assured it will be something ridiculous, like Ancient Greek.

Current residence: A dormitory at U of T, though he's working on finding a suitable apartment complex equidistant from both his and Mike's universities of choice.


Description of bedroom: Neat, but nondescript, with very few personal touches to the decor. The walls are blue and probably faded, the curtains are brown, and the bedspread is a shade or two darker than the standard blue of a pair of jeans. The furniture is made of dark wood, and all matches — bed, desk, chair, nightstand, and bookshelf. Save for the occasional touch of personality in the vicinity of the bookshelf, which is where Rudy tends to keep his important personal possessions, textbooks, radio, and the like, it could basically be a hotel room for all that it looks like a person lives in it.

Scents (shampoo/cologne/lotion/etc.): Something fresh and clean without being overly apparent or particularly scented in any one noteworthy direction.

Fashion (style, colors): As of college age, his go-to outfit is an Oxford shirt, a sweater, and a pair of khakis or slacks. He'll occasionally change it up a little and wear cargo pants or a turtleneck as needed, but he's quite preppy on an everyday level. He does still wear jeans and T-shirts, though, and he cuts an excellent figure in a suit when the occasion calls for it.

Handwriting: Canonically, his writing is as elegant as calligraphy. He is as adept at handwriting as he is at every physical activity under the sun, which is to say it's flawless.

Laugh: He doesn't. The one time this might be an exception is in the event of a natural disaster that he was instrumental in causing, in which case he will be hysterical to the point where he cannot talk or even really breathe.

Sense of humour: "Weird" is the understatement of the century. His humor is as dry as a bleached buffalo skeleton in the middle of the Sahara, and he's very fond of scathing wit, irony, deadpan remarks, and so on. It can also run fairly morbid at times, and he doesn't seem to have a problem with going the extra step or two outside socially acceptable topics of conversation in order to provoke a reaction from the people he's around. (For example, if he were on a double date and the car broke down, he would be the one making a dry remark about how they'd better draw lots to determine which one they were going to cannibalize. Even if the nearest venue for assistance was approximately two miles away on foot.)

Temper: None, up until he reaches some indeterminable critical limit or someone manages to hit one of his very few and well-hidden rage buttons. After that, he doesn't have a temper, per se; Rudy's fury is the variety that burns ice-cold, and of the sort that endures forever. Cross him and he won't lay a finger on you, won't raise his voice, won't make any aggressive moves — but he will verbally eviscerate you and then proceed to ruin your life. And he will keep ruining your life. He doesn't really subscribe to the idea of a proportional response; push him over the edge and he will keep grinding and grinding and grinding until you are a paste on the sidewalk, and then he will set you on fire for good measure. Metaphorically speaking.

Random trivia: He notices everything. Like seriously, everything. For all that he claims to disdain people, he's incredibly good at observing them and making note of small details about them, which stems largely from a penchant for reading Sherlock Holmes novels as a kid. He also has an impeccable memory, which gives him the ability to store up all the things he notices and catalogues and infodump them on people at the most opportune (or inopportune) times.

It's also said that, canonically, he "knows everything", which is really just a shorthand way of saying he's a wealth of incredibly random, stupid factoids and trivia — the more obscure it is, the more likely it is that he probably knows it. If someone in a meeting remarks aloud, absently, "What time is it in Bora Bora right now?", Rudy is the guy who will supply the correct answer without missing a beat, and probably without looking up from his notepad, either.

Most notably, he wins at everything. Canonically. He's described several times as "the world's greatest natural athlete" and he is shown to excel at every sport he ever participates in, including (but not limited to) baseball, soccer, swimming, obstacle courses, tennis, field hockey, running, long jump, high jump, triple jump, hurdles, shotput, discus, and javelin. These abilities also seem to extend to other physical pursuits, such as orienteering and dancing, as well as merely competitive ones, such as chess.

And last but not least, he has the ability to keep an impeccable poker face, regardless of the situation he's in. Nothing fazes him. His composure never cracks. He does display some variation of expression, usually in the eyes, but he never smiles or laughs (save for the very extenuating circumstances mentioned above) and he is perpetually deadpan. Always.


Sun sign: Scorpio
Decanate: Unknown
Moon sign: Aquarius
Rising sign: Capricorn


Close friends: His best friend, Mike Webster.
Family: Edward Miller, father; Susan Miller, mother; Jeffrey Miller, younger brother.


Entertainment of choice: Chess.

Musical talents: None to really speak of; presumably music doesn't fall under "athletic activity", though we do know he's skilled with arts and crafts, so it's possible he's got a knack for the musical side of things, too.

Ambitions: World domination. No, seriously. He wants to live the dream of a sort of modern-day Alexander the Great, conquering everything in his path, taking over the world, and then immediately handing it over to his brother and retiring somewhere. Because such is the fate of a younger sibling, to always get stuck with his older brother's hand-me-downs.

Educational background: Up through two years of university, with the intent of going on for his MBA/JD in the future. Also, a Ph.D. wouldn't be so bad. "Dr. Miller" has a nice ring to it.

Philosophy of life:
“But then why did he score all those goals?” asked Ralph, mystified. “Why did he bother to play so well if he only went there so he could run away?”

“As I see it,” said Pierre, “that’s Miller’s character. He’s honest, and he won’t purposely play below his ability...


Introvert/extrovert: Introvert. Good god, introvert.
Intuitive/reasoning: Reasoning, largely, though his intuition is usually spot-on too.
Optimist/pessimist: Pessimist. Though he prefers "realist", thank you.
Tense/relaxed: Somewhere in the middle?
Serious/carefree: Apathetic.


PERSONAL INTERVIEW WITH CHARACTER

What is your earliest memory?
Crawling out of the primordial ooze. As far as the collective unconscious is concerned, that is.

What was your biggest disillusion as a child?
The discovery that, without exception, whenever an interviewer asks a question of this nature, he actually has no legitimate interest in the content of my experiences outside of using it as a vehicle through which to attempt to psychoanalyze me. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

What's one thing no one knows about you?
If I told you, by definition it would cease to be true.

What's one thing everyone assumes about you that isn't true?
That all I really need is patience, understanding, and healthy camaraderie to someday provoke me into coming around and developing into a well-adjusted social animal.

What's one thing you wish you could stop?
Entropy.

What's one thing you've always wanted to do, but never have?
Count to infinity twice.

What are you a sucker for?
I suspect you may have me confused with someone who is actually susceptible to earthly vices.

What's your biggest pet peeve?
The inability to take a hint. Decide for yourself how applicable that response is as it pertains to the current circumstances.

What is your most prized possession?
My car, regardless of how often Mike insists that it is in fact an unreliable piece of junk. She is a faithful piece of junk, thank you.

What can absolutely make your day, no matter what?
Assuming I were Clint Eastwood, pointing a .44 Magnum revolver into the face of a robber attempting to take an innocent woman hostage.

Assuming I were not Clint Eastwood, the neverending pasta bowl served on Tuesdays at Joliet's is pretty good.

What's the worst part of your life right now?
I suggest you take note of what I happen to be doing at this precise moment in time and reconsider whether or not that is a question to which you actually care to receive an answer.

Do you have or want children?
Mr. Swift assures me they are delicious when served in a fricassee or a ragoust.

If/when you ever have children, what is one thing you absolutely want to teach them?
Presumably, how to evade being served in a fricassee or a ragoust. Assuming they last that long.

What was the worst advice your father ever gave you? The best?
"Keep your eye on the ball" and "Don't eat your brother". I'll leave it to you to determine which you think was the worst and which was the best.

When did you feel you'd finally 'come of age?'
Approximately thirty seconds after I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

How do you feel about sex?
I acknowledge its existence on a purely objective level.

Describe your ideal significant other.
She resides at D1 and is capable of moving any number of unoccupied squares vertically, horizontally, or diagonally.

How do you deal with depression, stress or sadness?
Simple. I don't get depressed, stressed, or sad.

How do you think of yourself?
Biologically speaking, I presume my brain has a fair amount to do with it.

How do your friends think of you?
As I have yet to confirm that they are anything other than likewise biologically human, see above.

How do your enemies think of you?
In the interest of avoiding redundancy, I'll take a moment to observe that this question presumes that my enemies are capable of intelligent thought in the first place.

Who is your biggest role model?
The iceberg that sunk the Titanic. Equally infamous, but it came out a lot better in the long run. Until global warming, that is.

What is your biggest accomplishment to date?
If my parents and guidance counsellors are to be believed, my apparent capacity to win the Olympics for glorious Canada. All of the Olympics.

In my opinion, not concluding my life as a fricassee or a ragout probably qualifies.

What has been your most humbling experience to date?
The harrowing discovery that I am not, as I was so often led to believe in my youth, a robot.

What will it take for you to die happy?
This question presumes that I intend to die.

What would you rather be doing right now?
Admittedly, I had considered eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Though I suppose furthering the proceedings on my latest hostile corporate takeover would suffice as an alternative.