Doctor Edward Richtofen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doctor_dismemberment) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-12-13 09:10 pm
doctor_dismemberment) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-13 09:10 pm
Entry tags:
The Doctor is [Busy]
Characters: Dr. Richtofen and you!
Setting: Over the course of the week - floor 15 (the workshop), floor 27 (the lab), various monster-heavy floors
Format: Action to start, but will match
Summary: After being released from Jason's cells almost a week ago, Richtofen is on the move. He's hustling from floor to floor even more than usual, attempting to construct a weapon for himself sincethe douchebag their kind administrator refused to give him one.
Warnings: Normal warnings for Richtofen - swearing, insanity, possible gore, possible sensitive subject matter of the WWII-era variety.
Workshop
[Anyone who wanders by the workshop will see a curious sight: Richtofen, who normally sticks to floors like the infirmary and the morgue, is working dilligently. He not only seems to know what he's doing, but he looks like he's good at it. He handles the machinery as if he's been acquainted with it for years, welding and sanding and polishing both wood and metal with impressive dexterity.
In fact, at first glance, with his hat off, a lab coat over his Wehrmacht uniform, and his face covered by a surgical mask and goggles, this calm, focused man hardly looks like Richtofen at all. The only indication that he's everybody's favorite doctor is that he occasionally mumbles incoherent little things to himself in that distinct, German-accented voice of his, but over the buzzing and whirring of the machinery, even that is often difficult to make out.
Early in the week, it doesn't look like he's making anything of substance. However, look closely and you'll notice a book lying open next to him that he keeps consulting, full of designs for what seems to be a large gun surrounded by messy scribbles and technical jargon. Later in the week, the body of this gun seems to take shape.]
Laboratory
[Once he's fashioned himself his weapon (and it's impressively-made, though not quite as perfect as it would have been if he'd had all the equipment he used back home), Richtofen sets off to make ammo and get himself a power source. It's at this point when he starts to spend his time in the laboratory, a floor he's more accustomed to.
Someone who encounters Richtofen while he's in the lab will see him hunched over futuristic-looking machinery, deeply engrossed in what he's doing, but more on-edge than he was in the workshop. He's working with what looks to be some sort of rock, black with lines of red that almost look like veins running through their surface. It's the red part he's interested in, because that's the stuff he's careful to extract and place in his gun.]
Around the Tower
[Finally, after a lot of hard work, labor, and intesive efforts being a paranoid asshole, Richtofen's finished. He waits up one night, eager for the monsters to show their ugly faces (or lack thereof). Not just any monster will do, though - no, he's looking for a group of monsters.
Once he finds enough of them, he decides to give his new weapon a test. He steadies his aim, pointing at just one monster, and a crazed grin spreads over his face as he places his finger on the trigger.]
Oh, ja, you all want to play, is that it? [He waits until the monsters lurch forward, hoping, hoping he did everything right, because test runs be damned - this is his test run.] Then come on and let's play, pretty ones!
[And then he pulls the trigger, and the result lights up the place bright as day for a split second. This gun doesn't shoot a bullet; it shoots pure electricity, which hits the first monster, and bolts of lightning arch off of its body to connect with several others in the vicinity. The air is filled with the sounds of crackling, inhuman shrieks, and Richtofen's crazed laughter, the latter of which keeps going even after the monsters fall dead to the floor.]
Yes! Hahaha! Yes, die for me! Take your medicine, yes, good!
[Richtofen will fire off a few more shots that night. Be careful; if you're too close to any of the monsters affected by his weapon, you'll get hit, too, and it won't be a light shock by any means. The trails of bodies Richtofen leaves behind, up to ten at a time, can attest to that.]
Setting: Over the course of the week - floor 15 (the workshop), floor 27 (the lab), various monster-heavy floors
Format: Action to start, but will match
Summary: After being released from Jason's cells almost a week ago, Richtofen is on the move. He's hustling from floor to floor even more than usual, attempting to construct a weapon for himself since
Warnings: Normal warnings for Richtofen - swearing, insanity, possible gore, possible sensitive subject matter of the WWII-era variety.
Workshop
[Anyone who wanders by the workshop will see a curious sight: Richtofen, who normally sticks to floors like the infirmary and the morgue, is working dilligently. He not only seems to know what he's doing, but he looks like he's good at it. He handles the machinery as if he's been acquainted with it for years, welding and sanding and polishing both wood and metal with impressive dexterity.
In fact, at first glance, with his hat off, a lab coat over his Wehrmacht uniform, and his face covered by a surgical mask and goggles, this calm, focused man hardly looks like Richtofen at all. The only indication that he's everybody's favorite doctor is that he occasionally mumbles incoherent little things to himself in that distinct, German-accented voice of his, but over the buzzing and whirring of the machinery, even that is often difficult to make out.
Early in the week, it doesn't look like he's making anything of substance. However, look closely and you'll notice a book lying open next to him that he keeps consulting, full of designs for what seems to be a large gun surrounded by messy scribbles and technical jargon. Later in the week, the body of this gun seems to take shape.]
Laboratory
[Once he's fashioned himself his weapon (and it's impressively-made, though not quite as perfect as it would have been if he'd had all the equipment he used back home), Richtofen sets off to make ammo and get himself a power source. It's at this point when he starts to spend his time in the laboratory, a floor he's more accustomed to.
Someone who encounters Richtofen while he's in the lab will see him hunched over futuristic-looking machinery, deeply engrossed in what he's doing, but more on-edge than he was in the workshop. He's working with what looks to be some sort of rock, black with lines of red that almost look like veins running through their surface. It's the red part he's interested in, because that's the stuff he's careful to extract and place in his gun.]
Around the Tower
[Finally, after a lot of hard work, labor, and intesive efforts being a paranoid asshole, Richtofen's finished. He waits up one night, eager for the monsters to show their ugly faces (or lack thereof). Not just any monster will do, though - no, he's looking for a group of monsters.
Once he finds enough of them, he decides to give his new weapon a test. He steadies his aim, pointing at just one monster, and a crazed grin spreads over his face as he places his finger on the trigger.]
Oh, ja, you all want to play, is that it? [He waits until the monsters lurch forward, hoping, hoping he did everything right, because test runs be damned - this is his test run.] Then come on and let's play, pretty ones!
[And then he pulls the trigger, and the result lights up the place bright as day for a split second. This gun doesn't shoot a bullet; it shoots pure electricity, which hits the first monster, and bolts of lightning arch off of its body to connect with several others in the vicinity. The air is filled with the sounds of crackling, inhuman shrieks, and Richtofen's crazed laughter, the latter of which keeps going even after the monsters fall dead to the floor.]
Yes! Hahaha! Yes, die for me! Take your medicine, yes, good!
[Richtofen will fire off a few more shots that night. Be careful; if you're too close to any of the monsters affected by his weapon, you'll get hit, too, and it won't be a light shock by any means. The trails of bodies Richtofen leaves behind, up to ten at a time, can attest to that.]
no subject
Really, child, do you think I went through medical school for nothing? Und here I was, trying to be the bigger person for once! But no, nobody listens to the doctor!
[All of that overdramatic whining. Have fun dealing with that, Tohko.
And good luck on the "smacking Jason" front, too, because Lord knows that didn't work out so well for Richtofen.]
no subject
Well, you went through it to heal your allies and better torture whoever you felt like torturing.
[She sighed again. Well..it wasn't like she had anything to lose here..and he seemed a bit calmer. A bit.]
However..since there really is no medicine that I can think of to help, your advice might help. I apologize. Do you know of any illnesses that can cure this?
[She can dream!..And fail horribly when she tries. But, since she's stubborn, she probably won't give up.]
no subject
[Richtofen's voice very nearly raised to a shout, but he manages to calm himself down again. He heaves a sigh as well.]
I don't know why I should help you after all of those things you said- [Weren't you just the one pushing her to let you help, Richtofen?] -but let me think... Blindness can be caused by any number of things, but loss of taste?
[He hums and taps his chin, deep in thought.]
Something like that sounds more like a neurological issue. Did you fall and hit your head?
[Though his words are truthful, his tone when he asks the question is condescending, as if he's talking to a small child.]
no subject
[Tohko sighed and bit her lip when he brought up that her loss of taste might be a neurological issue. He wasn't too far from the actual truth, but that passed quickly when he suggested that she'd fallen and hit her head. She gave him a small glare due to his tone.]
To be honest, I did, recently..but that was after this cold had gotten to me and after my senses starting dying. The cold has also come with other symptoms-small to medium fevers, congested nose, shivers. Normally, this would just be an average flu, if not for the fact that my senses were going.
no subject
So you've had no head trauma at all before your senses began to fail? Were you in a fight, or did you get hit by a monster?
no subject
no subject
[He rummages around in his brain for some sort of diagnosis to give her, but he can't think of anything.]
You haven't been sniffing, licking, or otherwise messing with any of the chemicals in the laboratory, have you?
no subject
no subject
[In truth, he just wouldn't put it past her to do something stupid like that. Everyone but him is stupid!]
no subject
It's alright..I guess it's part of your job, as a medical doctor.
[Even though she knows he'd like to enjoy butchering a person rather than helping them.]
So..any idea of what sort of illness this could be? Or do you think it's the Administrators again?
no subject
no subject
I'm not sure what part of this is admirable, but this does seem a likely possibility.
no subject
[Oops, you've gotten him to go off on a tangent, Tohko.]
no subject
While the technology they have could be used to help cure quite a few illnesses, it's not quite good that they've used it to steal away my senses.
no subject
[Richtofen waves his hand dismissively. It leaks into his voice how irritated he is that she laughed at him, despite having been robbed of her senses.]
Curing illnesses is no fun.
no subject
no subject
Er- Hmph. I know that, child, I am not ein idiot. But I may as well try to make things as fun as possible, ja?
no subject
And I know you're not an idiot..but how is hurting people rather than curing them fun?
no subject
Because it's just better. [He says it like it should be the most obvious thing in the world.] Who wants to deal with a bunch of people who are running around happy und healthy? They both look und act much different when they're in pain und dying, so that's what I like to see.
no subject
..It's a matter of personal taste whether they look better or not suffering, but people act much nicer when they're healthy and happy. Sure..there may be a few people who wear masks of happiness like Oba Yozo and commit suicide..but, on the whole, humans are a bit better when they're healthy.
no subject
Humans are disgusting little rats, more often than not. If their purpose is best served by dying so that others may thrive, who cares about their happiness?
[Totally neglecting the fact that he's a human, too. He's just better than everyone else, obviously.]
no subject
That's not true at all! Humans can sometimes do horrible things, but we can also do wonderful things as well. We have that ability. Besides, you're insulting yourself by saying that. And how do you know what the purpose is of humanity when every single person has different dreams, goals, and perspectives on the world?
no subject
[Richtofen leans forward and sets his forearms on his knees. He speaks in a sickly-sweet voice that gets higher and higher as he goes on.]
Tell me how the power of human kindness can cure all wounds, und everyone has a special talent that they need to unlock, und people all just want to get along und hug each other until they rot.
Und while you're at it... [He snaps back to his normal hoarse shouting.] ...let me know what fucking world you have been living in, because I am damn sure it does not exist!
[Wow. Someone's a cynic.]
no subject
I live on Earth, Edward. However, I'm not a fool. Human kindness alone can't cure physical wounds, and not all emotional wounds can be cured, but they can be lessened. Not everyone has a special fantastical power that you find in fantasy novels, but..most people ignore the fact that just doing simple things, like sowing or singing can be just as helpful as magical powers, if not more so sometimes.
And not everyone wants to be with others or can even feel emotions or understand them, but..I believe that the majority of the human race does. We're not all that bad. At least, we're not as bad as some stories make us out to be.