User Profile

Name: Ulquiorra Schiffer
Age: 28
Portrayed By: Glenn Quinn

College, Job, or Both: Stanford-School of Business, part time serial killer/sociopath, photographer, fourth most sought after Corporate Business Analyst/Restructuring Analyst in the state of California.

Restructuring Analysts are hired as outside consultants by companies who are experiencing a downward slump. By looking at business and management strategies currently in use they are able to restructure for maximum efficiency and get rid of the detritus. [i.e. fire and lay off people-We all saw Office Space!] As a result the company is more productive and the stock goes up. After a while of doing this, analysts garner a reputation. Because of this people involved in the stock market follow their movements knowing that businesses they are involved in end up doing well as a result. The company’s stock goes up in anticipation. People buy the stock low knowing they can sell it high.


Hobbies/Extracurricular Activities: Listening to classical music and opera, bonsai, photography,… occasional murder.

Brief History: [On Last Names: Schiffer is his father’s last name. His father is white. His mother is Hispanic. Strongly so. Hence the strange non Mexican last name and pasty white boy PB.]

The birth could not have come on a more inauspicious day; November 1st, Dia de los Angelitos “The Day of the Little Angels”. While the name conjured thoughts in the heads of the ill informed of plump cherubs, its actual meaning to the Mexican families that celebrated it was of a far grimmer nature. It was the day set aside to remember deceased children and infants.
The dead do not forgive. The dead do not forget. These are the words uttered by his maternal abuela when he was delivered into her arms for the first time. It was her belief that one of the spirits roaming freely on the earthly plane during “the Dia de los Muertos” had come over her daughter and entered into the baby giving birth to the fleshly incarnation of the vengeful deceased.

In order to prevent the intrinsic evil from overtaking her beloved and only grandson, Abuela Rosalita prayed every day to all her saints and endeavored to instill in young Ulquiorra a fear and respect for the Christian God who was the only hope for saving his soul. His first spoken words were prayers. And hours were spent in forceful contemplation of the familial crucifix and the suffering sorrowful figure of Christ, whose blood purified, and purged all wickedness from mankind.

Ever dutiful, and painfully shy, quiet, and plain, Ulquiorra lead a sheltered childhood, attending Catholic school, receiving is sacraments, and doing little to stand out. It would appear that his grandmother’s prayers had not gone unheeded. However, living where they did, in the downtown Detroit “projects”, the evils of the world could not be held at bay forever.

Gang wars were prevalent and their members uncaring of innocent civilians that just happened to get caught in the middle of their frequent and violent expressions of hate. His grandmother was a victim. On her way from the grocery store with a store bought cake for her grandson, she refused to give up the monetary contents of her purse to a group of local thugs. It resulted in aggravated assault that ended in a death by knife wound.

This brought Ulquiorra’s fragile world crashing down. Gone was the spiritual center of his life, the only person able to keep the evils of the world at a safe distance. Gone was the guide who had told him for so long how to live his life. This simply could not be. The logic did not compute. How could common street trash end the existence of someone so close to God?

Unless there was no God. God would not allow for this filth. The God he knew was compassionate. A savoir. Not a spiritual entity that demanded a sacrifice of innocent blood. Because of his grandmother’s death, he refused to become Confirmed, denying a life long service to the Christian god.

Instead his thoughts turned to revenge and retribution for the filth that had destroyed that most dear to him. He became obsessed with the origins of his birthday, and the reasons why his grandmother had seen his birth as such an ill portent. Perhaps his existence was the reason all this had ever happened. This blossomed into a devotion to the service of Mictlantecuhtli [No I DON’T know how to pronounce this. And NO I did NOT make it up], the Aztec god of the dead, and judge of all souls. Here was a god fit to serve, well suited to be the guarantor of his revenge, a god whose prayers were written in human blood and bone.

[A side note about Mictlantecuhtli-as a reference to Ulquiorra and for myself to look at later: Worship of this particular god was believed to entail acts of cannibalism, and he was often depicted wearing a skull-like mask and a necklace of human eyeballs. I thought it was an interesting “hollow-esque reference with a little nod to Ulqui’s whole eyeball fetish. Sorry for being so random. !]

Within the next few years the small gang, dubbed “El Guapo” by the Detroit Police Department, seemed to disappear from the scene entirely. The murderer was considered to be a sociopathic vigilante. However, because the murders happened to be to the benefit of a close knit community, long plagued by the delinquency of “El Guapo”, witnesses were not forthcoming with information leading to the implication of the perpetrator, believing such action to be with just cause. And so the police were simply left to clean up the scenes of some of the most bloody and ruthlessly efficient murders in gang war history.

There were two traits similar at all scenes.
1.Saint Statues
2.The victims were missing their eyes.

With the last gang member dead there was nothing to keep Ulquiorra in Detroit. He left for California to attend Stanford Business School on a nearly full scholarship. The choice was both academic and aesthetic as it allowed him to pursue his education as well as become closer to an area where “Dia de los Muertos” was celebrated more prevalently.

Having garnered a mild amount of fame as “The Crying Man”, so termed because witnesses noted marks he had drawn on his face beneath his eyes, Ulquiorra had developed a taste for the blood of the unjust. Of course it was entirely subjective, but his grandmother had always believed him to be the incarnation of vengeance, why no live up to that claim and rid the world of filth in the process?

As a student he was innocuous, quiet and subdued, serious as he had always been. He excelled in his courses, earning internships early on at some of the most promising business restructuring firms. On the side he eliminated low profile street trash, and no one in the high social circles in which he moved was any the wiser. And if they were they were loathe admitting having had dealings with something so beneath them. It worked out beautifully.

The job of business restructuring analyst appealed to Ulquiorra as a venue to pursue his cause in a more acceptable fashion, by eliminating corporate “trash” with ruthless efficiency. His first solo assignment was the restructuring of Metro Cosmetics [I confess…I pulled that from my ass]. The results turned Metro into a multimillion dollar corporation. Since then he has cut a blazing swath through businesses ranging from Silicone Valley’s top contenders to L.A. modeling agencies. He is now reputed to be the fourth most sought after Corporate Analyst in the state of California.

Role-playing Sample:
He always made a habit of documenting his kills; preferably on 35mm film using an SLR camera. This particular batch had turned out beautifully, capturing all the subtle and nuanced shades of red that blood could create. Thumbing the volume on the CD player a tad higher he closed his eyes in ecstasy as the soprano’s voice soared in “Der Hölle Rache” [Hell’s vengeance burns in my heart”] one of his favorite arias from Die Zauberflöte[The Magic Flute]. It’s menacing beauty always sent the blood humming in his veins.

In tune to the music’s crescendo he removed the last of the photos from the nitrate solution and hung it to dry. It was a shame no one else could appreciate the compositional beauty of the murder scene as it had been before he had disposed of the body. Since taking up old habits again he had found it to his advantage to mutilate his victims beyond recognition. Because one thing the Detroit Police had never been able to puzzle out was why he removed the eyes of his victims. Most would write it off to a mad man’s need to collect a trophy from his conquests. And in a way it was.

He turned off the CD player and left the darkroom, walking slowly and deliberately the same 20 paces he always walked after the pictures had been developed. He then reached out and grasped the handle of the refrigerator. Tyrone Jones had been a small time pimp and joint owner of Korner Kinks, a porn shop/topless dancing establishment Ulquiorra had come across in one of his frequent fits of insomnia. His eyes were a beautiful chocolate brown, sure to taste delectable on the palate.

Extra Credit - (to help us gain insight into your character)
Pick Two songs for your Character: [Songs with words in as they make for better additions to OSTs]
Groove Coverage-Poison
Puscifer-The Undertaker

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