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| - 1. How do you feel about team work? A) If I cannot be team leader, I do not want to be on a team. B) If I have to be team leader, I do not want to be on a team. C) I enjoy being a team player. D) I have heard people talk about teams, but I do not really get it. E) Other (explain). 2. How do you feel about the name "Real Life Soap"? A) It sounds like something being marketed by Leprechauns. B) It sounds like an industrial strength cleanser sold to garbage men. C) I could never be associated with a reality entertainment of that name. D) Anyone with a true addiction to reality entertainment is also a soap TV fan. E) Other (explain). 3. Have you ever been in a situation where you just didn't know what to do next? A) Of course, but that never slows me down. B) Yes. Once. C) No. I can always flick the hair out of my eyes. D) Hmm. I'm not sure. E) Other (explain). 4. Are there any agreed-upon rules that apply to all reality entertainment? A) Yes. I want to break them all. B) Just one: sex sells. C) No. But there should be. D) I never agree with anything. E) Other (explain). 5. What do you see as the main advantage of reality entertainment in a wiki environment? A) Anonymous user login. B) Everything can be edited by me, particularly my mistakes. C) Two heads are better than one. D) Ads by Google crack me up. E) Other (explain). 6. Has anyone ever done something to you online that made you you feel violated? A) That's why I keep coming back. B) I don't take the online world that seriously. C) Yes, but now he's in jail. D) I don't take anything that seriously. E) Other (explain). 7. Which of the following best describes your interest in wiki? A) I can only browse. B) I like to contribute to wiki. C) I want to hack and push the limits of what a wiki can do. D) Wiki? Is that one of the Hawaiian Islands? E) Other (explain). 8. What do you think about the Disclaimers? A) Dr. Real certifies me as physically and mentally fit. B) I have GFDL tattooed on my mind. C) I'm in the public domain. D) Everything about me has already been edited mercilessly. E) Other (explain). 9. If you were challenged to decorate this bedroom, what is the first thing you would do? A) Join Teem Tague and work as a group. B) Join Team Ivory and work as a group. C) Watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition to get some ideas. D) Google it. E) Other (explain). Extra credit. Do you date contest judges? A) Rich ones. B) I'll do anything in virtual reality. C) Maybe, but only after I get the medical lab test results back. D) Only if it is part of the contract and my manager okays it. E) Other (explain). Only select the one best answer for each question. If you select choice "E", provide a brief answer in your own words. Copy the questions (below) then click here and send your answers to Tanner. Remember: if you are trying to get an interview, be sure to sign your answers with your Wikia user name. Feel free to past a copy of your answers on your user page (If you don't, Tanner probably will). Tanner will score your replies and reply by email.
- Damaris panted, running down the dock. To her side loped her Elder Nightsaber, Arithe. Her anxious mind could only worry about one thing: I’m late to meet him! Oh, dear Elune, please don’t let him be angry! She reached the cross and looked either way. He wasn’t there. “Oh, hell. Where could he be?” She looked to Arithe, who yawned and stretched. “You’re no help. Okay, Damaris, think. Where could he have gone to wait? He wasn’t in the inn, I checked. I doubt he would head to one of the other buildings. So where does that leave? Ah. The moonwell.” Arithe let out an annoyed rumble, and the twitch of her tail sent the impression, “Well, of course. Night elves!” Damaris scowled down at her companion, who yawned at her again. “Oh, come on. He’ll be waiting.” She set off down the dock again, Arithe rumbling before following. She jogged down the ramps and across the inn lobby, the outside to the moonwell. She saw a blond, human man with a short, neat beard, and assumed that was him. She approached him slowly and warily. Arithe padded along silently by her side. He spotted her from his perch upon the moonwell’s stone border. “Damaris?” She noticed the rank on his tunic. “Good day, Corporal.” “Pleased to meet ye,” the man said. Damaris noticed he had a curious accent, lengthening some of his ‘e’s to ‘a’s. He jumped down from the ledge. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. I am Diarmaid Ó hInneirghe, High Councilor.” “Damaris Satinsun,” the elf introduced herself, thinking, Wow. That’s one mouthful of a name. She felt a slight butt to her side, and added, “And this is Arithe, my companion.” “Good day, Arithe.” Diarmaid knelt, holding out his hand to Arithe. “Oh, that’s—” Damaris began, but the Nightsaber only sniffed the proffered hand and licked it. Damaris blinked. “She is a beautiful beast,” the Corporal offered. “Well, she is loyal,” Damaris replied, “if a tad opinionated. Opinions aside, yes, she is a wonderful companion.” She reached down to scratch Arithe behind the ears, and the large cat began to purr softly. “Walk with me?” Diarmaid inquired. “Of course,” Damaris replied. The human began to walk away from the moonwell, and Damaris followed a step behind, Arithe, as always, by her side. They walked away from the slight bustle of Auberdine, and then the Corporal began to speak. “We have only a few matters to discuss before I can accept ye as an Aspirant of the High Council,” Diarmaid began softly, looking straight ahead. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. “Upon these matters that I speak, ‘tis one question of slight discomfort for me, especially with yer kind.” This was an awkward subject for him, and though Damaris had the vaguest inking of what it was, why it would be uncomfortable was beyond her ken. “Yes?” “Ye have such a look of youth, but ‘tis impossible to judge yer age by such,” he began, hands clasping behind his back nervously. Damaris nearly smirked. “ ‘Tis necessary for the High Council te know how many winters ye’ve seen, though.” “For once, I look as young as I am,” Damaris returned gravely, but with a twinkle of playfulness in her eyes. Diarmaid chuckled, and she smiled in return. The human shook his head in a put-upon manner, and said, “Ye put me in a tough position te guess, m’lady, but I would have to say somewhat close to my own age of twenty-six.” Damaris felt like sticking her tongue out and skipping backwards, simply because she was so much younger than him. Instead all she said was, “A bit younger, good sir!” “Come now!” Diarmaid exclaimed with exasperation, a playful grin showing he was not as annoyed as he sounded. He looked Damaris up and down, trying to gauge her age, and finding it impossible. He hazarded, “An even twenty?” Damaris took pity on him and replied, “Nay, a mere year younger.” “Very well then, young one,” Diarmaid muttered. Damaris felt he was rolling his eyes at her internally. Arithe let out a whuffing breath, signifying her amusement. There was a pause in the conversation, and they walked a few steps in silence. Finally, the elf asked, “Yes?” “What makes ye think,” began Diarmaid, “that the High Council is right for ye?” Damaris pursed her lips in thought, giving the question due consideration. She reviewed the Edicts of Council he had sent her mentally. Then she answered slowly, “You emphasize honor and integrity. You treat people with respect, no matter their walk of life or vocation.” “Aye. Grand values,” Diarmaid agreed with a nod. “And,” added the woman impishly, “Arithe likes you, which, let me tell you now, is something.” Diarmaid chuckled. “Ye both do me much honor, m’lady.” “Only that which you have earned by your conduct, good sir,” shot back Damaris. Diarmaid smirked, and tipped his head to Damaris in approval of her quick comeback; Damaris bowed ironically back. Diarmaid straightened, murmuring, “Thank ye, m’lady.” “ ‘Tis nothing,” Damaris muttered honestly. “I would be honored to count ye among the Aspirants of the High Council,” said Diarmaid. Damaris was only beginning to become excited when he added, “There is one final matter, however.” Damaris’ spirits fell, and she asked a tad sharply, “And that would be?” Diarmaid ignored her barb and continued, “The Council oft travels abroad. I, as yer recruiting officer, am charged with the responsibility of finding out whether or naught ye can handle yerself in battle. I pray ye—honor me and show me what ye have learned in yer training.” “Would you like a demonstration?” “Certainly,” replied Diarmaid cheerfully. The elf looked around, misunderstanding his meaning. She spotted a Wailing Highborne, an opaque spirit that inhabited the ruins of Amenth’Aran, which they had reached in their meanderings. She kneeled, whispering into Arithe’s ear. The cat growled her assent, and then sprung into a lope. Damaris stood, restringing her bow in moments and letting the first arrow fly, imbued with mana to injure the ghost that Arithe would reach in a matter of moments. The battle was short, Arithe taking no damage. After Arithe had returned, and Damaris had fed her a scrap of clam meat in praise, the hunter turned to look at her evaluator. Diarmaid had a faintly indulgent smile hovering around the corners of his lips. Damaris held back an impatient What? and waited for him to speak. “Very good,” the human praised, “but these poor fallen ones provide little challenge for yer skills. Come. Show me directly.” Damaris didn’t understand for an instant, and then it clicked. He wanted a battle, her against him. Damaris swallowed nervously. There was no doubt that he was stronger and more experienced—a whole seven years more experienced—but what could she do? Say, “No way, man, that’s totally wrong!” Hah. The man would probably let her down gently and then walk away as quickly as he could. So, “Very well.” Diarmaid nodded. “Worry naught about wounds, m’lady. I am trained well in the arts of healing.” Somehow, that wasn’t much comfort. Then the duel began. Arithe understood right away that the most beneficial thing she could do was stay on Diarmaid’s heals, damage when she could, distract when she couldn’t. Damaris had a second to wonder just how terribly she would do before Diarmaid moved. What the--! Where did he go? She managed to avoid his attack just in time, jumping aside and simultaneously fitting an arrow to her bow. When she landed, however, he was gone again. Damn it! He’s so fast! Damaris whirled around in time to catch a glimpse of his clothes and fired, but she knew she missed. Already she was pulling an arrow from her quiver; that was when he struck again. He grazed her arm as she dodged at the last second, tearing her leather armor and leaving a thin line of blood on her bicep. At the same time, Damaris let go of the arrow and bowstring and reached for her knife, slashing at him, but she only cut air. “Stay still!” she growled softly. She stuck the knife between her teeth and grabbed the bow. Turning, she sighted on him, and let fly. It struck his shoulder, releasing the mana she’d infused in it like a serpent’s sting. Also like a viper’s bite, it would continue to harm him over time. Diarmaid broke the shaft, dodged Arithe, and began powering up for a strike. Bastard! Damaris screamed mentally, secretly in awe of his willpower. It took strength to ignore the arrow imbedded in his shoulder, and it must hurt with every movement of that arm. Nonetheless, Damaris' frustration was in the forefront of her mind. Arithe couldn’t distract him, and he kept dodging her arrows. Suddenly he seemed to disappear, reappearing behind her to slam the ground. His mana struck her and she reeled, her every bone rattling from the blow. While she was trying to regain her senses, he moved away and pulled the arrowhead out of his shoulder, and healed himself. In the few seconds it took Damaris to reorient herself, Diarmaid was already powering up the attack again. No you don’t. I can learn; I can adapt, Damaris thought. She quickly sheathed the dagger, and sprinted toward him, aiming. “Arithe, NOW!” Arithe roared, as loud as she could, from her spot next to Diarmaid. It distracted him just long enough for Damaris to fire. She hit him in his other shoulder, interrupting his attack. He dodged away from her, Arithe hot on his heals. Damaris took the moment to breathe; she knew that right now, the infuriating man was probably pulling the bolt from his shoulder and healing himself, even with Arithe harassing him. Balancing on the balls of her feet, breath coming ragged through her nose and mouth, Damaris had every sense on alert. It seemed to her that the battle had gone for hours, maybe days; realistically, she knew it had to be minutes, if that. I wish he’d finish it already, she thought angrily. As the notion passed through her mind, he did. She found him at her back, his own dagger against her throat. “Call Arithe off,” he ordered softly. “Arithe,” Damaris called, hoarsely, “stop.” The cat let out a disagreeing whine, but subsided, her tail lashing angrily. “Do ye yield?” Diarmaid asked. “I do.” He withdrew the dagger from her throat, and Damaris motioned Arithe over. The cat came, ears flat against her skull. “You did fine, sweetling,” the elf murmured to the Nightsaber. Damaris knew how Arithe felt; her nerves were still buzzing from the battle. Diarmaid watched in silence as she meticulously examined her companion from tip to tail. To her amazement, she found no injuries whatsoever. He’s better than I imagined! “Aye,” he said softly, and Damaris started, thinking he was answering her thought. His next comment disproved that, “Well done.” “Thank you.” Damaris’ sincerity was real, despite the wry tone as she continued, “But had you been trying you would have beaten me easily.” “ ‘Twas not a contest of skill, m’lady—only an evaluation of it,” Diarmaid replied with a smile. “And you did very well indeed! You fight with a hearty spirit, with honor, and with courage.” “Do I suit?” Damaris asked, her raised eyebrow and dry question undermining her suddenly churning stomach. Diarmaid’s fervent, “Aye!” laid to rest any doubts. Damaris smiled in relief. “Oh, good.” “I am honored, m’lady Damaris Satinsun,” the human said, eyes twinkling, “to accept ye to the High Council.” Though Damaris felt like cheering, all she did was keep smiling. “Thank you. I am pleased to accept.” “Make no mistake, m’lady. Ye are among equals in the High Council,” Diarmaid informed her. He bowed his head, touched his fingertips to his forehead briefly, and slowly gestured to Damaris. The sign of respect overwhelmed the elf. “It is I who should be showing respect,” Damaris breathed. “We respect each other, as it should be among equals,” Diarmaid returned with an easy grin. “May the light of Stormwind guide thy spirit, and be ever at thy back.” “May the Goddess guide thy wanderings, and bless thy journey. Wind to thy wings, brother,” Damaris bid formally. They shared one last bow, and Diarmaid handed Damaris her guild identification. Damaris grinned; maybe now she would find the friends she had lacked since leaving home.
- An interview is a conversation between two or more people (the interviewer and the interviewee) where questions are asked by the interviewer to obtain information from the interviewee.
- Interview Image:Interview.jpg parleys use Demand, Reason, Inspire, and Flattery expression, locking out nothing. Interview primarily rewards Plots information and occasionally rewards Blackmail information.
- Interview was a magazine.
- This page is marked for deletion.
- Ein Interview ist eine mündliche Befragung einer Person oder Personengruppe. 2372 bittet Neelix Michael Jonas noch auf der Krankenstation der USS Voyager um ein Interview, nachdem dieser das Schiff scheinbar vor einem Warpkernbruch gerettet hat. Jedoch wird Neelix bald darauf auf die Brücke gerufen und das Interview kommt nicht mehr zustande. (VOY: ) Als Dr. Lewis Zimmerman 2373 ein Medizinisch-Holographisches Langzeitprogramm auf Basis von Dr. Bashir erstellen will, führt er auch Interviews mit Freunden und Kollegen des Arztes durch. Als er erfährt, dass Dr. Bashir der Ex-Freund von Leeta ist, lädt er auch sie zu einem Interview ein, allerdings eher, um sie zum Essen auszuführen. Später will Dr. Zimmerman noch ein Interview mit Dr. Bashirs Eltern durchführen. Allerdings kommt es nicht dazu, da das Geheimnis des Arztes über seine DNA-Neuordnung vorher auffliegt. (DS9: ) Im Jahr 2374 will Jake Sisko ein Interview mit dem Vorta Weyoun während der Besetzung von Deep Space 9 durch das Dominion durchführen. Der lehnt dies jedoch ab, da Jake in seinen Artikeln nicht neutral ist. (DS9: )
- The following is a transcript from a recorded interview between college student and paranormal enthusiast Devin Micheals, his girlfriend Amy, and a man claiming to be a former employee of the United States Government. (There are the sound of chairs being shifted as the trio take seats) Devin: My name's Devin Micheals, this is my girlfriend Amy. John: Pleasure I'm sure. Devin: I see you're a Mets fan. John: You're referring to my hat. Yeah, I'm from the Bronx, never liked rooting for the Yankees; always been partial toward the underdog. Devin: I can respect that. Alright, let's get to business. Can I get your name for the record? John: Just call me John. Devin: Is that your real name? John: I'd prefer not to answer that. Devin: Okay, well, could you tell me why you're here, John? John: I found your blog, your YouTube channel. I know what kind of things you've been looking into. You've been asking a lot of questions, doing a lot of digging. And I feel obligated to inform you just what it is you're digging into. Devin: Alright, let's start from the beginning. What agency were you employed by? John: I can't answer that specifically. I worked for an intelligence aggregate, interested in a very specific type of information. Devin: What kind of information would that be? John: We called it "Chain Events"; linked phenomena which could not be explained. All of it- grisly murders, kidnappings- were things that would keep you up at night. These chain events were generally dismissed as urban legends by local authorities. Hell, even most federal authorities thought it was all bullshit. But we weren't them, we didn't have the luxury of dismissing anything. Rule 101 for intelligence gathering: dig, no matter what you dig. And that's what we focused on. Pale semi-invincible serial killers. Demon dogs, cursed items, you name it, we looked into all of it. We were ordered to investigate these events. We were very rarely given permission to interact directly in these incidents. Our standing orders we simply to observe. Devin: Observe what? John: What do you think? (His voice sharpened almost angrily) Look, I came here to help you out, kid. You're delving in some very dark shit and I think you need to understand what it is you're dealing with. Who I worked for and what my orders were are irrelevant to you. So let's cut to the chase. How long has it been stalking you? Devin: What? John: Tall bastard, suit, tie, no face? Ring a bell? Devin: How did you know? John: Please don't insult me. I can see it in your face. And your girlfriend's. You haven't slept in weeks. You've lost a lot of weight, have the nightmares started yet? (John withdraws a cigarette and lights it) (There is a pause, no one speaks, the only sounds come from the recorder) Devin: He's been after us for about a month now, I think he started stalking Amy first, though. John: So what do you want to know about Der Grossmann? Devin: What is he? (John laughs) John: We have files dating back to the Neolithic era on this son of a bitch and, we don't even have the foggiest idea what the hell he is. Devin: What does he want? John: We don't know what he wants either. But judging by his behavior, he is hostile toward us. Devin: Can he be stopped? (John laughs again this time so hard it induces a coughing fit) John: Back in '82 we had it corned. A small town in Jersey. Two teams of men went in to bring it in. Dead or alive. These men were elite, SEALs, Special Forces; you know, the works. Two teams- forty men total. Not one came back alive. I was in the command vehicle, an armored car. That thing tore off the doors like it was nothing and dragged my partner screaming into the woods. Devin: Jesus Christ... Amy: What can we do then? Is it just going to kill us no matter what we do? John: If it wants, but it generally prefers to torment its victims. Play with them. For twelve fucking years that thing stalked me. Everywhere I went, it followed. It destroyed my marriage, my career. Everything. And than it went after my daughter. Police suspected a kidnapping, it was kidnapping alright (His voice faltered, he pauses) Then it left me alone. Devin: So what you're telling us is there's no way to stop it. John: Now you're catching on. The funny thing is, when it stopped stalking me all I wanted was it to come back. Just so I could rip its fucking guts out! Devin: Well, thank you for your time. But I don't know if you have anything useful left to... John: Did I say I was finished? Truth is, I don't give a shit about you or your girlfriend. (John draws a gun and flicks the safety off) I tried to find that son of a bitch but never did. But than I had an idea! Why not find its next target, it's only a matter of time before he- no, it- shows its face. (He chuckles) Face. Jesus, I crack myself up. Devin: Look, I don't want any trouble. John: Sorry, but I've waited long enough for this. (There's a clatter as he slides a pair of handcuffs toward the couple) Come on kiddies, it's a lovely night for a stroll in the woods! Two bodies were found in the local forest the next morning. They were identified to be to local youths. Both had been shot at point blank range with a 9mm handgun. A few feet away were signs of another scuffle, several more empty shell casings were found and drag marks leading deeper into the woods. Police searched for a body but never found one, they did, however, discover a NY Mets baseball cap. The recording was found at Devin Micheals' apartment. Within an hour of recovery, men claiming to be from the FBI arrived and confiscated it from the local police.
- "Interview" is the sixth and final episode of the second series of the British Office. It is written and directed by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant and aired on November 4, 2002.
- An Interview is a series of questions ask by an interviewer to an interviewee. These medias can be transcripted, audio only or with video. The fan interviews are released by fans and diffused freely on fan sites like podcasts, embed video in an article... The interviewees and the discussion subjects belong to the Stargate universe.
- Das Interview ist in erster Linie die wichtigste Form der Recherche. Über Gespräche mit anderen Menschen erhält der Journalist Informationen, die er weiterverarbeitet zur Meldung, zum Bericht etc. Zum anderen ist das Interview auch eine beliebte Darstellungsform. Es wird in Frage-Antwort-Form veröffentlicht oder aber in Form eines Berichts mit direkter und indirekter Rede. Anders als im angelsächsischen Raum werden Interviews in Deutschland autorisiert.
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