Futuristic 𝔸𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 (Character Sheet)

[Slav]

​

• Character Sheet
• The Rules

• 
  
  The character sheet is very simple. You can choose to use code or not that is up to you. The only thing that matters to me is the information, not how pretty it is. I suck at coding, so it's okay if you suck too. The simple sheet is so you can be as creative as possible or go spartan with it. Doesn't matter to me as long as you fulfill the requirements.
  
  

  Spoiler: CS SHEET

  Name:
  
  Age:
  
  Gender:
  
  Race: (Human or an Unwanted)
  
  Apperance: (Prefer Image but a detailed description is acceptable)
  
  Personality:
  
  Backstory:
  
  Other:
• 
  1. This RP will be 18+. Adult themes are always a possibility, especially in a RP of this nature.
  2. Don't be an asshole. Shouldn't have to be said but some people have an issue with this one.
  3. When it comes to face claims, it has to be Anime/Semi-realistic.
  4. On the topic of character sheets, the max will be two characters per person. This could be subject to change.
  5. I expect a steady posting pace. I see what happens when things drag on too long. You will be expected to post within a ten day time frame. This rule will be strictly followed. There will be exceptions for personal reasons and vacations.
  6. A two paragraph minimum is required for posts. It has to be well structured paragraphs, not just five sentences thrown together.
  7. As of now there will be a cap of fifteen players (that can change).
  8. This expected to be a chill RP. Don't take things too seriously.
  

​

 

[Slav]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background
• Theme song

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Silvan Esser
  
  Nickname: Sil
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Race: Human
  
  Age: 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  Height: 5'11
  
  Weight: 185 lbs
  
  Apparel:
  
  Generally sports leather jackets with denim jeans, many of his clothing having a few holes in them. He has piercings on his ears and likes to wear many rings ( some of them stolen). His hair is usually a long mess but that is just part of his brand. He doesn't like to expose his skin because of the high temperatures on the surface.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Silvan is what you could expect from a nineteen year old. He is loud, brash, and doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. The biker doesn't know his boundaries, ruining any personal space that you may hold dear to yourself. Despite his outwardly appearance, the hot head can be rather friendly, though his anger is easy to stir up. His friends like to mess with him because they know they can get a reaction out of him. Sil doesn't mind fighting, in fact, being in a fight is enjoyable to him. He is smart enough to know when he is outclassed in a fight though. Despite his aggressive attitude, he can be rather pleasant to be around when relaxing. His quiet moments are usually short lived because of his ability to easily get fired up. His intense attitude can be overwhelming for those that aren't used to it.
  
  He's not afraid to speak what's on his mind, for better or worse. His ego is taller than he is, thinking highly of himself. Sil doesn't have much of a moral character. He is in a biker gang, finding himself embroiled in many conflicts. His willingness to fight often leaves him battered or injured. While he finds fighting enjoyable, he doesn't find killing enjoyable. Even though people live shitty lives outside the Core, at least they get to live. Killing is something he hates but won't hesitate to do. The only way you can survive outside the dome is to have a fighting spirit. His opinions on the Unwanted are mixed, usually getting a long but holding a few xenophobic views.
  
  Likes:
  Alcohol, Smoking, Fighting, Racing, Riding his motorcycle, The sunset, and Loyalty.
  
  Dislikes:
  The Core, The desert, The heat, Cry babies, and Drugs
  
  
• 
  Silvan was born on Europa, being raised in Zernos. He wasn't really raised, both of his parents non-existent. He doesn't even remember their names. He was a child of the streets, rummaging around to try and survive the sun. He found many friends during this time period, kids who were also cast aside due to the terrible conditions the outside world offered. The only thing he remembers about himself is his first and last name. Any other information about his ancestry or how he got to the planet is all of mystery to him. Sil didn't really care since the only thing on his mind was survival. Thievery was his favorite past time, stealing from vendors who dared look away from their stock for a moment. This lifestyle hasn't changed much throughout the years, though his thefts just grew larger.
  
  His teen years were marked with brutality, the streets becoming worse than before. There was a water crisis that lasted for a year, making life hell in Zernos. He killed his first man during that time, over a bottle of water. His gang involvement increased during that time as well. The only way to secure a steady supply of water during that time was to join a gang. His biker gang, the Black Eagles, terrorized certain parts of the city to just get what they want. Once the water crisis was over, he remained in the gang to gain a steady supply of credits to fuel his new addiction, bike racing.
  
  With his new found group, Silvan was able to make a more steady lifestyle for himself, getting more of an income than before. His rambunctiousness never went away, being the wild cannon of the group. Picking fights was just as enjoyable as a cold beer. The chaos in Zernos steadily calmed down, being a period where it's been the most peaceful in years. Gang conflicts are still rampant, Sil continuing to participate in them.
  
  
• 
  
  THEME
  
  
  

 

[ThatWhichShouldBe]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background

• 
  
  
  Name: Marshall Jackson
  
  Nickname: "Godshot"
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Race: Human
  
  Age: 26
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  Height: 6'2
  
  Weight: 250 lbs
  
  Apparel: A leather duster over somewhat-fine but mostly-practical duds, a mix of fashion and practicality. On his head is a worn leather hat that just hasn't given up the ghost yet.
  
• 
  A suave man with a penchant for dry humor, Marshall Jackson is like the winds of Europa. No matter what you do, you can't quite make it go in the direction you want it to. Chaotic and carefree, he insists on following his own way in life, refusing to ever settle down or bow under another's orders. Freedom is everything to him, one way or another.
  
  Likes: A challenge, gambling, winning, glory, money, taking chances
  Dislikes: Cheating, excessive cruelty, unfairness, animal abuse
  
  
• 
  A mysterious man who doesn't seem to be from anywhere, but he ain't an Unwanted either. Incredibly good with his guns, to the point of his shooting being the stuff of tall tales. Most people watch his augmented arm when he's playing poker or slinging a gun, but the truth is his other arm is even more augmented, and the real killer between the two, though both spit death with a revolver in hand. The truth behind his origins is actually rather simple. He was born within the Core, a swindler and a cheat at heart. He conned a set of augmetic arms off of a certain company that retaliated by framing him for murder. Left with few choices, he exiled himself to the waste, where his name and past were easily forgotten. He's been finding a fresh start in life ever since, living the relatively honest life of a wandering bounty hunter and gunslinger, taking down criminals for credits.
  
  Though, given how he seems to fall in love and break hearts in every town he ends up in, he hasn't changed all that much from his Core days. Still the same old tarnished silver, if a little polished up.
  

 

[Servant]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background
• Theme song

• 
  
  
  
  
  Name:
  Cassia Naveyra
  
  Nickname:
  Kaz
  
  Gender:
  Female
  
  Race:
  Human
  
  Age:
  24
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  Height:
  5'6 ft
  
  Weight:
  139 lbs
  
  Apparel:
  The arid weather of Zernos isn't exactly kind to those seeking to lavish themselves with layers of fashionable clothing (Well, that and you'd probably get shanked for them), which is why Cassia opts for a much simpler approach to fashion. A white cloak, some old black urban clothing and a sprinkle of salvaged armor plating here and there. Function over form is the name of the game out in Europa's low-end, and this girl embodies that to a tee.
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  If there's a book out there whose cover best hides the true contents that lay beyond its first few pages then that would be Cassia. On the outside this young cook shows off a sweet and hearty demeanor, a lass who simply wishes to share her passion with the world: Cooking. No matter the time or place, given enough time this upstanding girl will labor with all of her might to bring you the tastiest plate she can muster. Hell, even if she may derive massive pride from each and every dish she serves, Cassia isn't above listening and taking note on any and all criticisms.
  
  Peel away the mask though and you're left with a putrid parody of that surface kindness. To Cassia cooking is everything, it's what pushes her day to day life, it's her ultimate goal in life, it's as necessary as breathing. Such culinary pursuits within her dystopic surroundings have resulted in Cassia viewing practically anyone and everything under a similar light: Ingredients. From the tiniest rodent to the biggest of brutes, all of them are made out of precious, succulent meat, ripe for the taking. Now, just because of this general label it doesn't mean that the moment you close your eyes near Cassia you'll wake up as the star to one of her stews, after all regular customers are one of the biggest compliments a chef can hope to attain. Still, some people out there are no better than cattle, so you might wanna double check next time you're gorging yourself on some of her mystery meat chili.
  
  Likes:
  -Cooking.
  -Most animals!
  -Talking to new people.
  -Visiting new places.
  -Rusty surfaces.
  -Puns.
  
  Dislikes:
  -Picky eaters.
  -Touchy people.
  -Water that's surpasses knee-height.
  -Any kind of music.
  -Tongue clicking.
  -Knock-knock jokes.
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  It's practically impossible to nail down the massive question mark that is Cassia's early life. Many people guarantee that she down right just popped into existence right outta thing air, a vagrant from a settlement located in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Others will swear by the fact that she was born and raised within the walls Zernos, a daughter to a butcher that had gone missing many years ago. Whatever was the truth was, those curious enough to question it only have their own theories to work with, for Cassia was never one to talk much about her past. The only certainty about it was that, according to her words, her passion for cooking had been passed down onto her by her father who also owned a restaurant by the name of "The Starved Bum".
  
  Nowadays you can find and visit Cassia up by Zernos' west side, inside her restaurant: "Serving Smiles". Though, calling it a restaurant is really a bit of an exaggeration, seeing how it's a facility only slightly bigger than a food stall with only a couple of tables and chairs for outside seating. The menu is everchanging, consisting usually of whatever Cassia was able to get her hands on that day. Said menu includes both a censored, simply shows some made up names for the plates and what the taste is like, and an uncensored version, which tells you exactly what the meat is (Though even that is sometimes a lie). Cassia has been actively managing "Serving Smiles" for exactly 6 years now and, despite a myriad of incidents here and there, she continues to enjoy her stay, even if a decent chunk of her earnings must go to whatever gang has taken over the territory at the moment as a protection fee. She has a fairly active clientele, albeit one that usually would rather remain ignorant as to the source of their meat skewers.
  
  
• 
  
  Theme
  
  
  

 

[queanbean]

Stygis​

​

Age: 39 years out of ~200

Gender: X

Race: Unwanted - Lumivern

Appearance: (Prefer Image but a detailed description is acceptable)

Personality: Lumiverns have an interplanetary reputation for being graceful, gentle, and peace-bearing… Stygis must’ve missed the memo. A harsh and largely unaccepting environment forged the tough exterior and no-nonsense persona they are far more well-known for. They’re not afraid to stand their ground nor resort to violence if it comes down to it… No really, give them one reason.

That being said, Stygis is also the kind of person who would stick around to pick you up afterward and stick a band-aid on the wounds they may or may not have inflicted. There is genuine care in the way they treat people. The surface-level roughness is a means of survival, but anyone who is looking can see that Stygis has a desire to do far more with life than to just survive.

> Likes - crunchy snacks, deliveries, colorful stickers and tape, being patted (but don't you dare try), plant-life, favors, gossip
> Dislikes - a messy workspace, hot beverages, the smell of sweat, overly serious people, needles

Backstory: Stygis is a first generation Unwanted after their parent, Solyn, arrived via trade ship some 80 years prior. There aren’t many of their kind left out there and real estate for a clinic was surprisingly cheap so Solyn bit without realizing just exactly why. It was sort of a “hey, that wasn’t in the brochure” moment that Stygis still teases them about.

Sexual reproduction isn’t a requirement for Lumiverns so, while Solyn has a partner now, they were on their own when Stygis was first created. They spent their time in the clinic healing and soothing and creating community while Stygis was off in the streets creating patients for them. These “recruitments”, we’ll call it, were mostly instigated by people who foolishly decided to pick on weaker kids in Stygis’ presence. They’d raise fists to human and Unwanted alike.

This anti-discriminatory treatment extended far beyond who they decided to pummel in their childhood into who they were willing to protect and help once they took over the clinic. In their domain it doesn’t matter if someone is human or unwanted, ‘good’ or ‘bad’, gang-related or government; well, government as long as a delivery of supplies is involved. Regardless, if someone comes seeking help or just a place to sleep for a night Stygis will support and protect them. It might come with some snarky comments, but it’s a genuine space for simply existing.

> Family - Solyn (parent)
> Profession - Clinician
> Abilities - Mild hypnosis

Disclaimer: Stygis is no trained doctor. They’ll clean and stitch you up (probably) just fine and can utilize their mild hypnotic abilities to soothe, distract, or relieve emotional tensions, but don’t expect them to know what to do for any mortal wounds. They can try, but… best of luck.

 

[Jhin]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background
• Theme Song

• 
  Name: Filch
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Race: Human
  
  Age: 18
  
• 
  Height 5’5”
  
  Weight: 123 lbs
  
  Apparel: Filch sports a loose tunic, its material dyed a sandy color to blend with the surrounding terrain. The fabric is lightweight, allowing for the much-needed ventilation under the heat. He wears trousers of the same material, equally roomy, falling straight down to his dust-covered boots. Protecting his eyes from harsh glare and flying debris is a pair of goggles that usually rest atop of his head.
• 
  Filch is a hedonistic animal of a boy. Sanity takes a backseat to pleasure and by the second decisions. He possesses a creativity that scorns the bare-bones existence outside the Core and strives for more, always more. His height does not impress, but the set of his shoulders, the steady gaze in his eyes, reveal the true stature of the young man. Despite his rough edges there is some charm buried underneath the ravening energy. It's the intensity in his eyes, the confidence in his stance, that can often captivate.
  
  No matter the scenario, Filch tries his damndest to aid those that he can reach. His intentions may be noble, but the application is often ill-conceived. His eagerness to aid frequently feels overbearing. For those at the receiving end, his help can feel more like a natural disaster than a lifeline. Behind it all, there is an unmistakable sincerity, but his clumsiness can often result in more damage done than aid.
• 
  Born an unremarkable soul among Europa’s many unanswered, Filch had always held a desire to feel useful. As a child this manifested in an intense pull towards the art of healing. Medicine fascinated him, but he had no mentor to pass down the knowledge. Instead, he sought knowledge on his own and found textbooks that taught medicinal practices considered archaic to most.
  
  The texts were treasures to Filch. They guided him through the intricacies of human anatomy and age-old remedies. He learned of ancient practices, where healers drained their patient's blood to get rid of impurities. He offered his services to the citizens of Zernos, those less fortunate and to those who couldn't afford the luxuries of the Core's medical facilities. His reputation was a paradox. Many praised him for his selflessness, while others found themselves worse off, often more ailing after his treatments.
  
  Filch's talents proved more efficient in dealing death than bestowing health. His medical interventions found a niche in the underbelly of Zernos. The local gangs quickly recognized the lethal potential behind his well-intentioned but hapless treatments. Their interest in Filch grew, and soon they began referring to him 'patients’—men and women who had crossed them, incurred their wrath, or simply needed to be silenced.
  
  The gangs would bring him new 'patients’ often. Sometimes physically restrained, or gagged; many people had a fear of medicine, he understood, and anesthesia was expensive. Filch would plan these 'treatments' with a meticulousness that was disturbingly clinical. Their bodies were subjected to his antiquated practices under the guise of medical care. For the entire duration of these treatments, he held the understanding that he was simply helping. The line between medieval medicine and torture can often appear disturbingly thin.
  
  His mind turned out to be disturbingly adept at inflicting suffering. Despite his ill repute, Filch's determination remained at full capacity. His desire to feel useful, to contribute to this harsh world in some capacity, pushed him to continue honing his skills. He would wander the rough edges of Zernos, searching for anyone willing to be convinced of his usefulness. His pitch was simple: he offered his services as a self-taught medic, one with unconventional methods but genuine intentions.
  
• 
  .
  

 

[Britt-21]

Name:
Azure

Nicknames:
Az, A

Age:
21

Gender:
Female (Obviously people don't believe that cause look at that. No way you can tell.)

Race:
Human

Appearance:

Spoiler: Gallery

Personality:
Her mannerisms always seem to speak volumes when she keeps her arms spread and her posture almost like a relaxed gangster on their favorite lounging spot. Giving off the energy of "I dont give a fuck" including holding some sort of power. While talking with her, she seems calm, collected, and quite intelligent. Around the gang she's more talkative, comfortable, and far less judgemental than she is with strangers. There's always something running in that mind of hers but never reveals what could be going on. Teasing is definitely part of her personality, and always uses it to her advantage to cause chaos. Sometimes she could even be considered and instigator. That's the reasoning why she loves to spectate fights because she instigates them when she feels like there needs to be some entertainment. Aside from this, on her down time and alone time, she could be found walking around in the evening, taking in the very dry surroundings and catching some sort of life forms that live in the land they call home. Getting on her bad side to the point where she'd consider you a threat is probably not a good idea, considering the skills she had been taught at a young age. How to retrieve the prey, trap it, and do what you must to get information. Now, she wont just kill willy nilly. No. She needs reason. Not some petty reason that you looked at her wrong. Get on the shit list and you're someone with information, better watch your back.

Likes:
+Drinking
+Hanging out in lounges
+Spectating Fights
+Torturing her Victims
+Guns
+Hot Baths
+Others thinking she's a Man

Dislikes:
-Ruining a new shirt
-Cleaning up after others
-A Shitty Drink
-Shitty Entertainment
-The Silence
-Rich Snobs

Backstory:
While life before the age of 5 has been nothing but a blur, she could remember the time that she was basically adopted by an older gentleman. One outside of the Core and one who seemed to teach her a few things that she knew now. No one -not even herself- knew where she was born. Be it either outside the Core, or inside the Core. Regardless she was taken by someone outside the core, teaching her how to survive outside and to defend herself when alone. There was no rules to learning how to be lady-like, however she was taught a few things that could come in handy later on. Her teacher had been involved with people who not only knew how to protect one another, but stuck together like family despite their vast differences in heights, looks, and more. Specifically the man who raised her was the same man who taught her how to get information out of their victims. At first, she didn't like the look of it nor the sound or amount of blood. But she was convinced that the reason why these people end this way is because they were the bad guys who did bad things to the family. Of course, being a young one she was scared, but was fed into believing that people brought in that situation were evil people who needed to spill the beans.

As she got older, of course she developed her own mindset and how she viewed the world. Except with some deadly skills in the background. Though there were some things that didn't develop...Her more feminine features aside from that long green-ish hair. With the way she had dressed as well, everyone assumed she was a man and at that moment, she realized it would be a great idea to just not care and roll with the punches. In many moments it gave her opportunities that not many other women would get to have. While being in one gang, she found another and nestled her way into it. Not only being part of her original family, but now had another one. More men, meant more family, meant more defenses. If anything, she could say she was in a pretty damn good spot right about now.

Other:


04b4a7


​

 

[Firelie]

Name: McKinney Duwhal

Age: 37

Gender: F

Race: Human

Apperance:






















Personality: Mckinney is intense and to the point. She isn't very outwardly emotional, almost never smiling or frowning or showing any sort of feeling at all, but she speaks and acts with such fervor that it is obvious there has to be some sort of emotional impulse to how she acts. She possesses a refreshing independence and despite her monotone tone and mannerisms, speaks her mind and only her mind. She unabashedly lets the world know who she is and what she wants. She is someone who desires change in all things. The sort of change that crumbles systems and at the same time the kind of change that lifts people up. In short, she is an anarchist terrorist. She has her own agenda and that agenda is wreaking havoc. She quite often will do jobs against large corporations or rich folk in the core for free, just because she likes doing it.

LIKES:
-Art
-Hearty Food
-The feeling of speed
-Terrorism
-Independent thinkers
---
DISLIKES:
-Authority
-Murder
-The Core
-New Age Music
-Cowards
-
Backstory: McKinney's childhood was nothing remarkable. She lacked a father figure like many children in Zernos do. Her mother taught her well, to be kind and discerning but also to be smart. Though despite her average childhood Mckinney was anything but. Quiet, reclusive, yet passionate. Mckinney was prone to intense fixations. She bounced around a bit, but due to her situation her options were quite limited. Eventually she settled on art. In her early years she had passed across various forms of art but it was around when she was twelve or so that she really picked it up. Specifically she found a fixation on graffiti art. It was one part pre teen angst, and another part genuine appreciation and fascination. As a teen she got caught up in a gang, made allies, made enemies, made mistakes, and struggled. Through it all she continued improving, continued striving until she eventually got noticed.

Mckinney was noticed first by her peers, the morally dubious rough and tumble folk in Zernos. Her art was a strike of color in an otherwise bleak town and beyond that a reminder that there was something more to life then the everyday struggle. She painted in ways that invoked action in people, her art stirred hearts and unified minds. Her influence on the people sparked hope for something better, and was a contributing factor to the 2067 Anti-riots, a series of riots that were brought forth in an attempt to stop robotics spearhead Atlas Corporation from instating cybernetically enhanced peacekeepers into Zernos. Mckinney was a figurehead of the riots, and for two long years the people persisted, until one day Mckinney was caught in a firefight with Atlesian peacekeepers. The conflict was brutal, and Mckinney was among one of the many who were struck and maimed. The peacekeepers took Mckinney's mangled form to one of their cybernetic doctors. There she was resuscitated and remade. (I can write more about my ideas here, but I feel writing about a whole societal conflict for a backstory would be a bit much) Mckinney was paraded about as an achievement of Atlesian technology, and was branded a traitor by her peers. The riots lasted a while after that, but her seemed betrayal to the cause shot through morale like a bullet. Resistance slowly petered out, and Atlas moved forwards with the plan.

And Mckinney was left with nothing but a lifetime of debt to Atlas Corporation, hatred from her peers, and cybernetic limbs. She turned to underground crime to make a living. It was the worst phase of her life, but as she got better at various types of work Mckinney took to the mercenary life in time. She improved her cybernetics, improved her skills, and eventually the circumstances felt a little less soul crushing.

Cybernetics: Custom built Cybernetic Limbs- Once civilian grade, Mckinney has voided any possible warranty on her cybernetics by pumping them full of very useful and very illegal enhancements. The base chasis is lightweight and spring suspended to allow Mckinney to take high speeds or long falls with grace.
NOTABLE FEATURES-
Wheel Heelies- Motorized wheels built into the heels. Certainly faster than walking. Controls like one would roller skate.
Pressurized Steam Cannon- Capable of building excess heat as steam into pressure. Used for a quick change in speed or direction.
Wrist Wire Grapples- Tightly wound heavy duty wire with a barbed tip at the end for embedding in hard surfaces. While it takes a long time to wind up between uses, the utility of this grappling hook/firearm/whip is undeniable.

Theme:

 

[CasualTea]

Name:
Aozalea Croselle

Age:
24

Gender:
Female

Race:
Unwanted (Vega)

Apperance:

Personality:
Everything is a game for Aozalea, even her research. She's usually carefree but deadpanned most of the time. She's somewhat insecure when people shoot her looks but she always stays cool about it and not let anything get to her. She also can get quite playful.

Backstory:
Aozalea hails from the rumored Kroschei-VII, a planet that only has its name on record and the rest are theories scientists and explorers verbally exchange with one another. It is not well known nor is there any proof that it exists. All that's left is just its name.

The Vega on Velikan or what humans grasp of it, Kroschei-VII, are a highly technologically advanced race who have the ability to blur the lines of the virtual world with reality. Their planet being mostly made up of data and symbols on top of a decent organic base, they are dozens of centuries more advanced than most civilizations including humans. Aozalea is one such Vega who is a scientist, researcher and doctor. She is among the high-classed individuals of her race where she has an Aether Chip implanted in her which is what allows her to edit reality to her whims. Of course, there was a license she obtained. Not every high-class Vega has good morals, so they first have to get approved for one. Other cases where one doesn't comply with the rules of it ends up on a wanted list.

The Vega are a humanoid race that closely resembles humans. The only differences is the augmentations they can put on themselves and their genealogy. They may have additional features, but that was done by someone with an Aether Chip. Either used on themselves or one to another, it signified fashion and status. They don't have interstellar enemies, however if one such race were to get cocky and attack, they have all they need to annihilate the attacker and then some. They would even send a team to their planet, infiltrate and mimic to study their technology, culture and way of life before judging whether to destroy their home planet.

One such instance however is what they would deem unusual. They spotted an unidentified spacecraft that was nearing their planet. Turns out it was the humans' explorer satellite, being used to venture into the vast space and explore and make new discoveries. As they always want to keep their planet a secret but saw this as no sign as aggression, they went a little off tradition. They hacked into the satellite, establishing a one-way connection before eradicating all footage of their planet and any records the humans had on them. As per tradition, they left a mark in their records to show that either they existed or the scientists weren't crazy and found it as a funny way to gaslight them. They left the name Kroschei-VII. That is what the human scientists and explorers use to reference that planet and they know nothing about it.

As per tradition of the Vega, they would send their own to infiltrate and carry out the mission. However, it was a little different this time. As they learned that the humans had multiple settlements, they decided to only send one to each. Aozlea is one such individual whose destination was Europa. They would take a spacecraft with cloaking abilities and advanced travel capabilities with some defensive mechanisms too. After they reached their destinations, the ship would be stored in their Aether Chip's databank. While other members of her team stripped themselves from their additional features to make them resemble humans as close as possible, Aozalea decided that she would not do so. She had her own way.

By the time she arrived, she made quick work to infiltrate their virtual network and studied all their cultures, ways of life and laws. She also then proceeded to create fake records of herself in the humans' database to make it seem like she was one of them. In the records, she said that she was a scientist that dabbled in biology. Specifically, gene modification and body augmentation such as prosthetic/mechanical implantments and her next projects were for biological features implantments. One of her most cared for projects was to make scientifically engineered cat girls. Her progress? She's close. She tried it on herself, but it ended up giving her horns and elf-like ears. She decided to scrap the project seeing how much of a waste of time it was and now she was in the Core to research the planet further and to carry on with her other research materials.

That's what she put in the humans' database and records so no one would suspect her. And it worked. She's now moved outside of the core to conduct some... "unrestricted" research.

Other:
- With the ability to use her Aether Chip to edit reality around her, she barely uses it during her mission as she's supposed to mimic closely. Extensive and unnecessary use of it could prove dangerous and can risk compromising herself and the mission. She still also abides to the chip's laws and cannot commit any sort of taboos that the order has established.
- She only uses the chip in her private space aka her laboratory in the Core as no one else works with her nor does she let anyone inside her living space. All she really uses the chip for during those times are recording data.
- Here are the things she can use the Aether Chip for: Converting physical objects into data and store them in a databank for use later. Generating and compiling data to create physical object. Providing holograms for record keeping. Hacking and infiltrating any electronic. Cloaking. More to be announced...
- The horns on her head and her ears were generated data by her Aether Chip and have become a part of her now. However, rumors from her planet said that she took the horns off a rampaging and ferocious beast that was terrorizing the public for "trampling all over her research material" and as a trophy.
- Those are indeed holographic cat ears.
- She bought the coat from a human store, but the outfit underneath is actually supposed to be the Vegas' definition of lingerie.

 

[Inuzori]

• Basic
• Appearance
• Personality
• Background
• Anthem

• 
  
  
  Name: Ichabod Lurch
  
  Nicknames: Usually Ich/Ick, but others include Paws, Fleabag, Gato, and his personal favorite, 'GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SHOP!'
  
  Age: 24
  
  Race: Felus (Felus Pica) - An agile race of small quadru-bipedal felines (able to walk on all fours or on their hind legs), and are so named for their resemblance to cats as well as their strangely Magpie-esque skills and propensity for intellectual growth. They were once a trend in the pet trade, but have since fallen out of favor and have become illegal merchandise within the Core. Felus are incredibly stealthy, can mimic sounds and voices, and have minor but useful regenerative qualities in specifically the proteins of their nails, bones, hair, and teeth. Like Ichabod, many were trained into scarily capable thieves, thus requiring restrictions and legislative action. The species was not yet fully or properly researched prior to the ban. Even 'his own' voice is only an exact replica of his master's voice at a higher pitch.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Height: 4'1" - 124.5 cm
  
  
  
  Weight: 40 lbs - 18 kg
  
  Description: Felus were relatively new and popular when first introduced but are rare now, as many were exterminated or relocated to other planets during the Core's Felus bans eight years ago. As such, some of their traits went unnoticed. Ichabod is also a rare case, going the extra mile to walk on his hind legs at almost all times and even to wear clothes, which are not at all typical Felus interests. He barely surpasses the waist of the average human, and while Felus DO have noses and mouths, both their nostrils and even their mouths are very wide and narrow. They would be more prominent on Felus of brighter fur patterns than his. Ichabod mourns thumbs he has never had, and instead uses his wrists to hold or carry things. The only times one might catch him on all fours is when jumping or running, as he's a mite slower and less graceful on his hind legs. All Felus have white inner ears, as it keeps their ears and ear canals cool in the heat. Like any feline, Felus pupils narrow and expand when locked onto a thing they want, enjoy, or find to be 'prey'.
  
  
  Ichabod was surgically declawed as a cub dozens of times, but they ALWAYS grow back when broken or removed. They're long, durable, are his primary weapon, and are fully retractable.
  Depending on the job, Ichabod will forego wearing his hooman costumes clothes simply because he does his best work at night, and is naturally hard to see or find in the dark.​
• 
  
  
  Likes:
  Humans!
  MEMES. C'mon, ask him for voice impressions, you know you wanna!
  Friends! not that lots of people wanna hang out with him, but let the boy dream.
  Pants (it's hard to find cat pants, y'know?!)
  Meat and fish, a nice plump alien rat. The usual.
  Following humans around and copying actions and phrases
  Jobs that pay well, either in food or in credits!
  HE YEARNS FOR HIS VERY OWN T H U M B S.
  
  Dislikes:
  Needless cruelty and violence
  Fleas, Ichabod is SO sick of oiling his fur, my dude-
  Strong odors, like perfume or rotting smells
  Holding things meant for thumbs
  Not being paid, he WILL GLADLY steal your food if you stab him in the back.
  
  
  Overview: Good Boy TM, loyal, easygoing and loves to have a good time. Ichabod's initial owner left a very lasting impression on him - Professor Lowell Lurch was a sophisticated and extremely chivalrous man. Despite having been taught to steal all manner of bits and bobs from his kittenhood, Ich was also raised a perfect gentleman. While he no longer has access to the fineries and luxuries of his upbringing, he's equally pleased in his 'people-y' trousers and rags. He's well-read, clever, jovial, genuine, and rather enjoys people watching. He hasn't taken jobs for theft since coming to Zernos, though, preferring piecework instead. Pest control, security for travelers or shopkeepers, sporting events and races, or bounty hunting are more fun, and they don't hurt his pride the way theft once did. In all, he's fully infatuated with humans and absolutely adores them all, even if the overwhelming majority of them don't much like him back. He believes people are inherently kind, and strives to be the same. He can be socially gullible, and is as pliable as clay if offered food or friendship.
  
• 
  
  
  Snippets of his earliest memories lead Ichabod to believe he was most likely ripped from his mother's den on their home planet, though he was never told which planet that was considering Felus subspecies are native to several small jungle-bearing planets. The Professor was never heinously unkind, no, but was incredibly restrictive with Ich and his upbringing. While he did come to love the ever renowned and influential Professor as something of an adoptive father, Ichabod would withhold as much information as possible about his body and his abilities as he grew into them. Much like the Professor's reaction to his lengthy claws, the worry of surgical intervention was very fresh on the lad's mind at all times. Still, he never disobeyed the Professor's other wishes, training hard and eventually becoming an expert cat burglar and combatant on the Professor's behalf. Jewels, artifacts, high-clearance ingredients for experiments, devices, special components for tech, government secrets, and the list goes on. If the Professor wanted it, he got it. Other Felus were trained to do similar things out of loyalty to their masters, making them all security threats to the upper echelons of the Core.
  
  There was a stint of time in his teens where he worried the Professor didn't truly love him back and he was desperate for fatherly approval, but the uncertainty was put to rest when authorities finally tied dozens of stolen confidential documents back to the Professor's lab- and the Professor's lab armaments had already alerted him to the raid. The Professor hurriedly drugged him, boxed him up, and made one of his bots sneak the cargo into the trash, which would inevitably end up in a heap down below. Ichabod had heard tell of the fates of other Felus caught by authorities, caught and convicted of a great many crimes like the ones he'd committed. Only he and few others had been spared from the savage repercussions by living off scrapes in Zernos, his existence and misdeeds known only by himself and the Professor. There are still days when Ichabod holds out hope he might hear something or find leads about the outcome of his father's arrest, but even now, years later, he has no idea what's become of the Professor.
  
• 
  []
  
  
  

 

[Sierra-Alpha]

Character Overview:

Name:
Ford Léandre (Hex: #5352a3)

Character Synopsis:
Growing up in a repair shop on the periphery of Zerno's center, Ford was taught at a young age to take after his parents, both prolific mechanics. He turned out to be a quick learner and reader, and he quickly picked up the small intricacies of the workshop. Ford couldn't spend all of his time cooped up in the 'shop, though. He spent much of his childhood playing with fellow youth in sand-swept avenues and musty alleyways. As a local of Zernos, he knows how to survive in the streets, and he learned the best ways to avoid getting shot by shady vagabonds. As the years went by, he began to take up more responsibilities in the repair shop; after all of the backbreaking labor his parents endured, they were beginning to show their age, and Ford was determined to work harder to keep his family fed.

Now twenty-seven years old, Ford is wholly dedicated to his family and close friends, and he knows how to stand up for himself and others. He works as an experienced mechanic in his family's repair shop, and when days are slow, he takes up freelance work to earn some extra credits. While stony-faced and determined, Ford is an affable fellow that enjoys good friends, food, and fine literature.

Race:
Human

Age:
27

Gender:
Male (He/Him)

---

Appearance:

Physical Description:
Ford is a tall man, but certainly not towering, for he stands at six feet in height. His complexion is to be described as darkly colored rust; his skin, strong and vivid, is deep brown, and after enduring arduous labor beginning at a young age, his body is toned and hardy — but he isn't herculean in stature. Few have the privilege of gaining excessive mass, whether it be fat or muscle, in the poverty-stricken streets of Zernos, and Ford is no exception to this fact. On the other hand, literally, he has tough callouses covering both of his hands, and he is also missing most of his right pinky finger which he lost at a young age.

His face is bold in shape with a large and wide nose and mouth, and he has prominent cheekbones. His eyes, akin to the color of his skin, are a deep brown that is supported by his stern, focused gaze and accentuated by bushy eyebrows. His hair is short and curly, and it's colored jet black like crude oil. He shaves the sides and back of his head, but he retains a fair amount of hair on the top. Long hair is a death trap considering that most makeshift auto shops have an abundance of exposed machinery, but there's still a little bit of clearance for one to express themselves. Lining his chiseled jaw is sparse stubble, but he had grown out his mustache and goatee to the point where it's distinguishable from the rest of his face.

His body is a clean slate; he doesn't have any tattoos, piercings, or otherwise any sort of extensive modification made to his body.

Wardrobe:
True to his profession, Ford can typically be found wearing a grease-stained jumpsuit that is as worn as he is. Such suits vary in their construction, but Ford prefers those of simple, drab colors with his favorite being a nice steel blue. He also likes to unzip the suit down a little bit to expose part of the top he's wearing, and he likes t-shirts that allude to niche contemporary media like local bands and movies. Additionally, these jumpsuits are typically lined with pockets that are fit for storing small peripheries like loose nuts or screws.

His footwear is simple and sturdy; he usually sports a set of black steel-toed work boots that reach his calves. Keeping up with this utility, a pair of insulated gloves hang off of his toolbelt for when he needs to get his hands dirty. Speaking of his toolbelt, Ford found that such an accessory is necessary when working on the move; not every client or project has the luxury of having a fully-fledged shop for maintenance. This belt carries a myriad of tools necessary for the basic everyday maintenance of mechanical objects — and that includes machinery that isn't vehicular. The belt is kept rather close to his person; none of it protrudes that far from his body. Therefore, it can be worn under, say, a jacket.

This is precisely the case for Ford, for one of his most prized possessions is a worn and venerable sheepskin coat, and if there's one thing you can count on, it's him showing up wearing it. This coat is made out of genuine sheep leather that is colored khaki, and the collar is lined with sheep wool. Such components are an impossible luxury within the dusty atmosphere of Europa, and even less so on the streets of Zernos, but since it's almost always covered with grease and oil along with its construction being nearly impossible to distinguish from modern synthetic materials, it isn't exactly a garment that would catch your eye. The pockets are nice and spacey which Fords makes good use of, for he typically stuffs his snub-nosed revolver in the right pocket. This tool only comes out when things get really, really messy, though. He's a pretty good shot, by the way.

In his not-so-typical repertoire, he owns a heavy and spacious satchel, basically a wearable and softer toolbox, that he carries when he needs to lug around more specialized tools. Additionally, he makes use of a large utility backpack for heavy-duty work. Essentially, it functions as a portable workshop with pretty much all of the stuff you'd need to fix up a completely totaled machine — most of it, anyway. It even comes with a battery pack for power equipment and space on the side to strap on a welding tank. The tank is accompanied by a welding mask that Ford wears to save space for the pack. He won't tell you that he mostly wears it because he thinks it looks cool when it's flipped up, though.

Under more casual circumstances, you can expect him to wear all sorts of common duds for common folk. He'll still keep the jacket, though.

...The band shirt, too, probably.

---

Personality:

Overview:
Judging from his attitude to strangers and his strict work ethic, it would be reasonable to assume that Ford is a gruff, brusque man who's too focused on his job to consider the tender moments of life. While he is certainly a man of vision, he considers himself to be friendly and outgoing when you get to know him. His day is easily brightened up when he catches a glimpse of a friend of his, and he'd like to think that he has the power to do the same as well. He's quick to laugh and pull his friends into warm hugs, and he is welcoming of some chit-chat while he works on your ride — on the house, of course. Talking helps him focus, actually.

That being said, he is a bit stern when it comes to working with strangers. Such formalities are necessary for the lines of business within Zernos; being all chummy with strangers on the street is a sure way of getting shanked. This steely demeanor extends to shield those close to him as well. He's faster to confront people troubling his friends than he is to protect himself, and you can rely on him to back you up when things get tough. After all, Ford learned early on that the most valuable tools at your disposal are people you can trust.

At the end of the day, though, he's just a good friend. He loves his family — even if they're not related by blood — and he'd gladly put his life on the line for them.

Likes:

• Admiration for his work.
• Good books.
• Catchy music.
• That new hovercraft smell.
• Generous tips.
• Fresh sets of tools.
• Acts of kindness.

Dislikes:

• Bad attitudes.
• Half-assed work.
• Troublemakers.
• Threats.
• Petty squabbles.
• Single-mindedness.
• Accidentally dropping a screw and watching it roll under a cabinet.

---

Backstory:

The sandstorms that pass over the streets of Zernos can be mesmerizing, at times.

Cooped up within the shop, a younger Ford leans against the corrugated metal; the rigid grooves of the wall dug into his back, and he felt the ceaseless reverberations brought by crashes of dusty gales rattle his body as it elicited a heavy sigh from the restless boy. Observing the window clattering in its frame, he leaned forward, gazing out of it, and watched the swirls and trails of sand blow over ramshackle buildings — the storm threatening to peel off the shingles and paneling of the shoddy structures. Looking up past the fierce waves, beams of sunlight broke through the sandy veil, but not before diffracting over the thousands and thousands of tiny particles and tinting the skies of Europa a blazing orange.

Fluorescent lights lit up the repair shop a bright white. An occasional flicker dimmed the interior slightly sometimes, thus bringing barely perceptible, but nevertheless distracting, shades over the strings of words of the worn and centuries-old textbook Ford was studying. Trying to, anyway.

Gonna have to ask Pa to take a look at the genny again... the boy thought to himself as he drummed his fingers on the yellowed pages with a noticeable lull in the rhythm — the stub of his pinky failed to reach the paper. Sighing again, Ford leaned his head against his offhand, and he continued to neglect the text in lieu of the encapsulating swirls of sand.

Suddenly, a voice broke him out of his reverie. "Slacking off again, boy?" his mother spoke as she peeked over Ford's shoulder. The boy let out a gasp before hastily speaking. "I- I wasn't slacking, Ma. I was just... I was thinking real hard about the..." Ford said as he frantically scanned the page for a subject that he'd be able to discuss, but before he landed on a topic he was knowledgeable of, his mother let out a soft chuckle and clasped a hand over his shoulder. "Relax, boy. It's been a slow day for me, too."

Ford's mother let her grasp slip off of his shoulder, and she moved away from the desk to seat herself on a stool a few steps away, letting out a sigh as she relaxed her aging bones.

The boy continued to stare at the words of the book before letting out a huff and shifting his glance towards the window once again. His mother followed suit, and the two observed the sandstorm as the dust glanced off a street, kicking up a can in the process.

"It's pretty, ain't it?"

"...Yeah."

The two continued to gaze out towards the sandstorm, watching silently for a while as the squalls blew over Zernos. Her mother spoke up once again. "Gettin' tired of it, yet?" she said. "I guess," Ford replied.

"Mm... Well, I got tired of it a long time ago... All of this," she said as she brought up a hand to gesture to the streets before them.

"...What do you mean, Ma?"

"I mean I got tired of this place, son. The streets, this shop, the city... Zernos," she spoke as she switched to a more somber tone of voice. She turned towards Ford. "...And I'm afraid you'll get tired, too."

Ford thought about what her mother said, about his home. It was difficult living here, sure. But that's just life, isn't it? Working in the shop, making sandcastles with the other kids, going to bed hungry most of the time, ignoring the screams and loud bangs in the streets at night... It was hard, at times, but this is the only home we have.

His mother spoke up, breaking him away from his reverie once again. "That's why I need you to study this as hard as you can," she said, tapping the textbook to accentuate her statement. "...There's a better life out there for you. I know there is," she spoke now gazing straight into Ford's eyes. "And I want you to see it."

Ford shifted his gaze away from her and back towards the book. Was it true? Was there really a chance for him to leave this place for a better home? He had always thought about life outside of the city, but he never truly pondered the question.

"If you work hard enough, then maybe. Just maybe..." Ford's mother spoke with a slight tremble in her voice.

"I'll try, Ma. I'll work as hard as I can. I promise," Ford reassured her as he glanced up towards her with a smile.

A smirk began to curl up on his mother's face.

"Atta-boy."

---

Other:

Theme:
Gorillaz - Tomorrow Comes Today (Just the vibes of the music, really.)

"How do I-"
It's French.