User Profile

Character Name: Richard Braintree
Series: Silent Hill
Gender: Male
Age: 49
Species: Human
Sexuality: Straight

Appearance:
Richard is a middle-aged, slightly dumpy man who did not age all that well. There always seems to be a scowl on his wrinkled, worn face. Even during those rare occasions where he’s actually smiling, he still looks gruff. He doesn’t exactly go overboard when it comes to his appearance. His graying hair is slicked back yet still a bit messy. Attire is very basic; a blue and white pinstriped dress shirt, brown khaki pants, black shoes, and a tie. Now, the one thing Richard takes great pride in is his ties. As the essential element of his wardrobe, they must always be neatly pressed and perfectly tied. He will not tolerate a sloppy tie. Nor will he stand for one that is anything less than extravagant. The tie makes the man after all, so solid colors and basic stripes just won’t cut it.

Personality:
To say Richard is a grumpy old man would be an extreme understatement. His temper makes him infamous among those who have come to know him or had simply been within earshot during one of his fits. Setting him off isn’t difficult at all. The trigger could be a snide remark, bumping shoulders in the hall, a certain look, or even someone breathing the wrong way. It all depends on how worked up he’s already managed to get himself. Once he’s in one of his moods, it’s very hard to calm him back down. Aggravating him further however, is very simple; unavoidable even. The tantrum can escalade from a bit of verbal assault, to threats of violence, and then to him actually following through on the latter. The levels of violence can range anywhere from a punch in the face to him even whipping out the revolver he keeps with him at all times.

Richard will never allow himself to react violently toward a woman though, physically or verbally. Growing up, he was taught to respect women, not hit them. No matter how worked up he may get over one’s words or actions, he will demonstrate the upmost restraint when dealing with a lady. But when dealing with another male, he rarely holds back, at least not when it comes to verbal assault or threats. In most cases, he will remove himself from the situation before things can go beyond that. If the other party continues to antagonize him, he will respond with a swift punch to their face. If that doesn’t shut them up, then they’ve pretty much dug their own grave.

Around children, Richard is generally more grumpy than usual. One look at them and his mood plummets into surly old man mode. There isn’t much else out there that irritates him more than kids. All their noise and snotty, disrespectful attitudes drives him straight up the wall. For this reason, he tries to stay as far away from them as possible. If he can’t simply keep them a good distance away by removing himself from the area, he will drive them off. He achieves this by yelling and/or swinging a blunt object or revolver around and carrying on and on until the child flees in terror. He’d never actually cause physical harm to them, as that’s another very big no-no in his mind. But he sees nothing wrong with terrorizing them if it means he can have some peace and quiet.

There are only two things that rival Richard’s dislike for kids, one being anyone who disrespects a woman. He will not hesitate to knock someone flat if he sees them mouthing off or acting like a creep to a lady. This again goes back to what he had been raised on regarding women. Respect, don’t hit. It’s a rule he has abided to his entire life.
The second thing is any insult directed at his ties. If someone so much as glances at his tie with even the slightest look of disapproval, he will explode into a fit of rage. His ties are a reflection of his inner most self. He wears them with so much pride and dignity that a reaction which is anything less than impressed will be met with a firm verbal lashing that could go on for a full hour straight, possibly even longer.

Despite his seemingly constant grumpy demeanor, Richard is not incapable of taking it easy and allowing himself to have a good time. He deeply enjoys relaxing with some classical music, opera, or radio dramas from his younger years. A good detective novel and a comfy recliner are always nice too. On weekends or days where nothing of real importance needs to be taken care of, he loves to go have a game of golf and a round of drinks with the buddies he’s somehow managed to acquire and tolerate over the years. One activity he enjoys more than anything though is shopping for ties. The thrill of finding the perfect edition to his already extensive collection is unrivaled. There is no greater sense of satisfaction than that of finding an exquisite tie. Nothing could or ever will bring him more joy than that.

Abilities: Richard does not posses any super-human abilities as he is a fairly average middle-aged man. He does posses knowledge and express skill in handling firearms though. Years of playing golf and chasing off kids have also made him handy with a club as well as other, similar objects like tire irons. He also knows how to kill a man using only a tie.
Richard tends to see a majority of issues in black and white. This enables quick decision making on his part, which is very important when faced with a dangerous situation that demands immediate responses. A general lack of inhibition regarding his temper enforces this. When faced with someone who rubs him the wrong way, he isn’t going to waste his time trying to glaze over that. It tends to weed out a good number of genuinely bad people from his life. Despite this, his black and white view is often times a weakness as well.
Weaknesses: For one, his volatile temper. It makes forming relations with others extremely difficult, often times driving them away in fear or annoyance. Occasionally, it encourages some to continue egging him on. In the end, that’s not good for either party.
The black and white view he has when it comes to most situations and people is also crippling, despite being a life-saver every now and then. Most everything has grey areas, and there are times when those areas need to be carefully considered. Richard is not the man for that job. Everything needs to have a definite yes and no, right and wrong. When dealing with a delicate situation, it’s best to leave him out of it.
Richard also has a very high blood pressure. Not good for someone with such a monstrously high stress level.

History:
Richard Braintree lived in room 207 of the apartment complex in South Ashfield Heights for 30 years. During his time there, he became well-known among the other residents as someone who wasn’t to be messed around with. His short-temperedness and aggression made him infamous. A majority of the tenants were too frightened to even walk by him in the halls. Depending on his mood that day, he would not hesitate to lash out at anyone who so much as looked at him funny. This of course included even children. Not women though. The worst they would be subjected to was a scowl and maybe a frustrated grunt.
It was not uncommon to hear Richard howling with rage from any spot within the building whenever kids would come near his room. They’d made a game out of it, to muster up enough courage to go bang on Braintree’s door, stand there for as long as possible before he’d open it, and then turn tail and bolt down the hallway as fast as their feet could carry them. He’d swing open the door, swearing and yelling, often times armed with a golf club or a tire iron he’d brought in for just this occasion. He’d then proceed to give chase, usually stopping at the end of the hall, sometimes going as far as the stairway.
The whole thing fueled a very intense dislike for children on his part.

This was very unfortunate for the young Walter Sullivan who had often been seen loitering around room 302. As far as anyone within the complex knew, he didn’t live there and had no relatives that did either. Richard grew very irritated seeing the boy sneaking around like that. He’d yell and chase him out, only to see him back shortly after. One day, Richard ended up bringing his revolver and aiming it directly at the Sullivan child, much to the disapproval of everyone else. After that little episode though, the child ceased his visits. Or at least Richard thought he did.

A little before the incident with the gun, another, much more severe one occurred involving a man by the name of Mike who lived in room 301. Mike was a disgusting pervert who spent the majority of his time staking Rachael, another resident. He’d watch her from the window, follow her through the halls, and send her letter after letter detailing just how obsessed he was with her. He and Richard had a little run in one day. Everyone knew about the situation with Mike. They were aware of how bad it had gotten and began discussing what to do about it. Richard decided to take matters into his own hands rather than sit around and wait for everyone to come to an agreement. He caught Mike in the hallway and dragged him into his room by the collar of his shirt. Not bothering to close the door, Richard started right in on beating Mike. As the man shouted out in pain, a group began forming at the open doorway. All stood on and watched as Richard pummeled him. No one tried to stop it. No one wanted to. They were quite content with Mike getting exactly what he had coming to him. The beating has ceased for a moment when Richard suddenly picked Mike up and threw him down in a chair. He then left for the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large knife. It was at this point, the crowd grew a little concerned. But still, no one stepped forward to stop what was about to happen. With the knife, Richard started to slash Mike’s clothes apart, cutting his skin repeatedly in the process. The objective wasn’t to kill Mike. The intent was to humiliate him. And that’s just what it did. When he’d finished hacking his clothes apart, he kicked the naked, bloody, beaten, sorry excuse for a man out of the chair, passed the crowed, and out into the hallway.
Richard gained the respect of quite a few residents that day.

There weren’t many huge episodes after that. He still yelled at nearly everyone and chased kids with tire irons, but not much beyond that. A certain resident of 302 had captured his attention though. A journalist by the name of Joseph. The guy had seemed pretty normal. Richard never really had a problem with him. But no one had seen him in weeks. The super had stopped by a few times, but the door had been locked up tight from the inside. Every now and then, he’d stand by the door and listen. Strange noises, like something heavy and metallic being dragged along the floor or muffled voices could be heard. Someone was definitely in there.
One day, he’d walked by again and the door was wide open. Everything inside sans for the furniture that came with the apartment had been cleared out. He assumed Joseph and up and moved in the middle of the night. Guy must have really been nuts.

Eventually, another guy moved in. He seemed normal, quiet, but normal. Richard never bothered getting to know him though, no real interest. As long as he didn’t get in his way, Richard was content.

A couple years later though and something strange happened. The door to room 302 was suddenly locked up from the inside again. The situation with Joseph was happening all over again. Was this guy secretly a whack job too? The noises had started up again as well. Only this time, they weren’t just heard coming from 302. They started coming from all over. The whole apartment had begun changing. The air started feeling heavy and somehow oppressive. A man in a blue coat was seen around the complex as well. No one could ever seem to catch up with him though. He’d always be gone in the blink of an eye.

All of this put Richard extremely on edge. Something strange was happening and he had no idea what. And when things didn’t make sense to Richard, he grew angry. Every day he’d go stand in front of room 302 and try to see inside through the peep hole. Could never see a damned thing though. He could definitely hear and SMELL something though.
A few nights later, Richard woke up in the middle of the night to find himself in a very strange, yet somehow familiar place. He was on the roof of a building. It looked like South Ashfield, but everything was different. The sky was pitch-black. No stars, no clouds, no moon, only the cold glow of street lamps. No sign of any people either. There were screeches in the distance, slowly growing closer and closer. His revolver laid on the rooftop a few feet away from him. Picking it up and keeping a steady finger on the trigger, he braced himself for whatever was coming. The sources of the sounds came into view. They definitely weren’t people… “Monsters” was the only real way of describing them. Wasting no time, Richard opened fire. He held them back for a good while, but eventually, one got a little too close and pushed him right off the roof. He fell backwards at least three stories and landed on the pavement below.
But he wasn’t dead.
No broken bones, no blood, not even a bruise. Just intense pain for about five seconds and then it faded as quickly as it came.
It was then that he met the resident of 302, Henry Townshend. He came close to blowing the guy’s head off. But, once he proved himself to be a regular human being, he eased up. They had a quick discussion about what was going on which really didn’t answer anything at all. This guy wasn’t going to be much help. As Richard turned to find a way out of there, Henry said something very strange.
He told him to watch out for a kid.

And surprise, surprise, minutes later, Richard ran into a certain small child inside one of the buildings. He was the same kid from years ago, the one that would always sneak around the apartment and hang around outside 302. Richard, not entirely being in the right mind, proceeded to threaten the child with his gun and chase him down. He ran after the kid all through the buildings, never being able to get closer than maybe ten feet. They’d entered the apartment complex at this point and they were heading toward his floor and eventually his room. The kid, Walter, ran right inside. Richard followed two seconds after. But once inside, the child was gone. Instead, a man in long blue coat stood in the center of the living room. Richard didn’t hesitate to aim his gun directly at the man, demanding to know who he was and what the hell was going on. The man didn’t answer, he simply moved forward toward Richard, who demanded he stop or else he’d fire. When he didn’t comply, Richard fired off a shot.

It didn’t do anything.

The man didn’t even flinch. So he fired again. Still nothing. Before he could shoot again, the man grabbed Richard violently and began dragging him over to the center of the room where he could now see an electric chair. He screamed and struggled and beat against the man, but he never wavered. He then threw Richard into the chair and forced his wrists into the metallic restraints. He tried desperately to kick at his attacker, but nothing he did was having any visible effect on him. With ease, his legs were forced into restraints as well. The man stood and back away. He stared into Richard’s face for a moment before pulling out a knife and bringing it down to his wrinkled forehead. He started in on carving something deep into his skin. He was speaking, but Richard couldn’t quite hear over his own pained screams. He did manage to pick up on something about numbers though…

19121

Walter Sullivan. Some absolute nut job from over ten years ago. Went around murdering people. Carved numbers into their skin, all ending with 121. Walter, or the Walter copycat, pulled away and moved around to the back of the chair where he flipped a switch. Sudden intense volts of electricity shot through Richard, causing him to jolt and stutter and bleed from every opening on his face. Eyes rolled up into the back of his skull. Skin burned and sizzled.

The front door opened. Henry had arrived on the scene. Quickly, he rushed over to Richard and not really thinking, tried to grab the wrist restraints. Pulling back, he realized there really wasn’t anything he could do for Richard. The dying man knew someone was there. It didn’t matter who. With every ounce of strength within him, he tried to identify the killer. After a full minute of stutters interrupted by shrieks, he managed to get out “That’s no kid, that’s the 11121 man” before slumping over and finally dying.

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