Futuristic S E P U L C H R A L

thespacekid · May 21, 2016

Character Sheet

Feel free to change the BBCode if you want, but make sure all the sections are present.

ALIAS/TITLE HERE

[img=http://i.imgur.com/ufsXR5L.jpg]

Basics: Name:

Age:

Gender:

Height:

Weight:

Species:

Appearance:
Basics 2: Motivation:

Desires(conceptual):

Greatest Fear:

Personal limitations (internal):

Personal beliefs:
Gameplay: Occupation:

Fame:

Weapon:

Armour:

Fighting Style:

Skills:
Personality: Personality here.
Backstory: Backstory here.
A Day in the Life: Write about a day in the life of your character, and this will work as a writing sample, plus give other players a hint of how your character is.
Additional: Theme Song:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

Code:

Sunbather · May 21, 2016

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Name:

???????? (Mortgas, Devourer of Worlds)

Age:

318 years

Gender:

Female

Height:

837cm

Weight:

362kg

Species:

Appearance:

Mortgas is a large creature with a dark body of humanoid shape. A strawy growth similar to hair reaches down to her midsection and is of ashen color. Her head sports only a mouth as a clearly distinguishable feature, though it appears her face is covered by a sort of ceremonial item. A single, horn-like growth seems to be veiled by it.

Her upper-body is of humanoid and clearly mammalian shape though lacks clearly defined secondary sex characteristics. She has two long, multi-jointed legs, though it appears that Mortgas is able to grow bulging, fleshy growths, adopting serpentine movement with the widened lower-half of her body, while the upper-half remains upright. The serpentine form of hers differs from her body beyond mere shape. The bulbous flesh appears to be littered with crude faces, some of which audibly ache.

Motivation:

Mortgas possesses an unquenchable drive to consume life, believing that the universe is one gargantuan source of energy, which she intends to accumulate all for herself. Though her species is rare due to its propagation habits, all Behelits seem to share a this somewhat self-destructive goal of effectively emptying the universe of existence itself.

Desires(conceptual):

Differing to most Behelits known to other species, Mortgas differs from the norm in that her sentience seems somewhat controlled and resembles sapience. She expresses interest in concepts and interacts with species fit to withstand her presence.

Greatest Fear:

Animalistic self-preservation indicates that a premature end to her quest of consumption is her worst and possibly only fear.

Personal limitations (internal):

Comprehension of lifeforms or otherwise sentient and/or autonomous energy being unwilling to integrate is severly limited. Expanding perceptual horizon is an active endeavour.

Personal beliefs:

Morality is a concept graspable but irrelevant to Mortgas' species, thus desire and physiologic coding are exclusive in guiding her.

Occupation:

No formal occupation.

Fame:

Primary entity of the Behelit's mass congregation.

Weapon:

Due to her control over bodily mutation, her mass serves as an unpredictable and effective weapon. Though her consumption of energy is not accomplished in the traditional sense of the word "devouring", she seems to have taken a personal liking to biting and tearing apart targets through brute strengths. A sort of half-biological, half-singularity based ability presents her strongest offensive tool and is a rightfully feared technique. She can pull, distort and absord beings with this technique.

Armour:

Forced regrow and thick skin serves as sole defensive mechanisms. Wounds may be dealt plentiful, though it is difficult to pinpoint how long her ability to manipulate her own body trumps damage dealt.

Fighting Style:

Mortgas has no refined techniques but rather just acts upon instinct and need.

Skills:

- Resistance to extraterrestrial conditions

- Controlled Singularity Force

- Strength

Personality:

Mortgas possesses all traits inherently ingrained in Behelitian culture, and thus has no concept of morale. Outsiders might describe her and her people as nihilistic or unhinged, and most sapient species' concepts would correctly apply these terms, though Mortgas exists on a level that has little room for such conscious decisions and epiphanies.

Mortgas is unusually curious in comparison to others of her kind, and is, in that regard, considerably more restrained and willing to listen to reason. She is a strong personality, which is a given due to her sheer state of existence (see Background below) and the fact that she does not seem to feel much urgency in regards to her natural goal. If such terms exist in Behelits, she is more willing to indulge in recreational activities than any known predecessor. Aquiring knowledge and power for selfish reasons as well as being able of more precise and eased methods of conquerering, Mortgas does not blindly destroy as is common for her species. Mortgas is surprisingly vain and enjoys demonstrating her superiority and relishes in what comes with her demonstrations of power.

Background:

Like all Behelits, Mortgas was born as a singular but sentient cell inside a black hole. These cells then get "ejected" along with the radiation which black holes regularly emit. Aimlessly flying through the galaxy, the cells remain motionless until a mass of them has accumulated. At that point, all the sentient cells lose their mind with only one "personality" retaining - That of the strongest and most dominant mind - In this case, Mortgas. Originally a mere lump of black flesh with crude limbs (almost resembling a stubby dinosaur plushy), the Behelit grows by consuming further congregations of Behelit Cells (hence their rarity) and absorbing life forces of devoured creatures. This process can take thousands and even tens of thousands of years, though Mortgas took considerably less time. Usually, a Behelit would now begin to mindlessly scour the galaxy he or she find themselves in, trying to eradicated and absorb every bit of energy he or she can find. A Behelits most primal programming demands to literally empty all that is and create a sort of singular supreme being. Needless to say, the utopian goal has never been reached.

Unlike her peers, however, Mortgas did not blindly begin to attempt and devour every bit of energy and sentience she came across in close proximity, but consciously sought out more lively galaxies and clusters. The level of accessibility and opportunity to study her is unprecedented in recorded history, and is enabled not only by her curiousity, but also her vanity. To balance her thirst for interaction with lesser species - or rather what she perceives as lesser species - and her instinctual, inherent craving for destruction - she often engaged in manhunts or waged war outside of the modern galaxies, where consequences that interfered with her personal interests were of no concern.

She has since arrived in the Phevr Consciouscness, which interests her due to certain similiarties. Needless to say, interactions with the native inhabitents have been difficult.

gogojojo331 · May 22, 2016

Vendan Malazar (WIP)

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Basics: Name: Vendran Malazar

Age: 1203

Gender: Male

Height: 6'6''

Weight: 260

Species: Dragonic

Appearance:
Basics 2: Motivation: To find a way to bring his people back to power.

Desires(conceptual):

Greatest Fear:

Personal limitations (internal): The loss of his race

Personal beliefs:
Gameplay: Occupation:

Fame:

Weapon:

Armour:

Fighting Style:

Skills:
Personality: Personality here.
Backstory: Backstory here.
A Day in the Life: Write about a day in the life of your character, and this will work as a writing sample, plus give other players a hint of how your character is.
Additional: Theme Song:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

gogojojo331 · May 22, 2016

Logarius Typhon WIP

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Basics: Name:

Age:

Gender:

Height:

Weight:

Species:

Appearance:
Basics 2: Motivation:

Desires(conceptual):

Greatest Fear:

Personal limitations (internal):

Personal beliefs: "The strong survive! The weak perish! Let the Fight be Eternal!!!!"
Gameplay: Occupation: Gladiator in the Tervian Pits and General of the Tervian army

Fame: Being the undefeated champion in the Pits

Weapon: Dual blades, along with multiple traps and ensnaring weapons

Armour:

Fighting Style: "There is need for such trivial things!"

Skills:
Personality: Personality here.
Backstory: Logaius was born in the wastes of the Tervian tundra
A Day in the Life: Write about a day in the life of your character, and this will work as a writing sample, plus give other players a hint of how your character is.
Additional: Theme Song:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

Zer0 · May 22, 2016

The Ice Man (Left RP)

Basics: Name: Dr. James Leighton

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Height: 6'10"

Weight: 70 kg.

Species: Human
Basics 2: Motivation:

P

eace between his fellow men and Personal Recognition.

Desires:

J

ames aims to unite The Regency of Man and the Tervius Federation, and together as one faction establish humanity as the number one super power in the galaxy. And he wants history to remember him as the man who made it all happen.

He's been slowly building a base of power ever since he was fifteen and has worked tirelessly to create bonds between the two factions ever since he entered the political arena at twenty.

Greatest Fear:

D

eath of his little niece, "Alexis", and the shame of failure. He is also afraid of spiders.

Personal Limitations:

J

ames has a distrustful outlook on society. Because of this, he often does things alone and the pressures of fulfilling his dreams by himself wearies him to the point of having depressive mood swings.

This distrust also limits how much he can do in a certain span of time. What five can do in a day, it takes him a week to accomplish, often causing him to miss opportunities.

Personal Beliefs:

"T

he end justifies the means"; "Foreknowledge is power."

The two human factions have been striving against each other for years. James is worried that humanity will destroy itself the longer we fight amongst ourselves. War always brings frightful misery and vast expenditure of blood and money, and it is the poor who suffers the most. Because of this James has no problem getting his hands "dirty" since he believes that the cost of bribery and the murder of a few is cheaper than what War eats up if it's dragged on any longer.

He actually doesn't see himself as a bad guy and gets offended when he's called that.
Gameplay: Occupation: Ambassador of The Regency of Man

A

s an ambassador, James often accompanies the leader of his factions acting as interpreter, a middle-man for negotiations, and a patient guide for the social interactions of those with a higher status than him, but who aren't versed in politics, such as the young family members of the leader of his faction.

When James isn't negotiating with his faction's contenders both inside and out, he secretly assists the Regency's Secret Service in gathering information and economic sabotage.

Fame: Anonymous

T

o the public, James is merely a boring ambassador who's probably corrupt.

But in the political arena, his desire for flattery and recognition has unfortunately garnered him the fame he secretly yearns for and also hates at the same time since now all the top people know his desire to unite the two factions and his weakness, which is his niece.

Weapon:

A sturdy, black, cane-umbrella that fires various suppressed rounds, from stunning charges, amnesia and knock out darts, lethal bullets, and "Sick" rounds, which cause either severe diarrhea, nose bleeding, or vomiting.

Armour:

When he isn't allowed to wear body armor, James simply uses his umbrella which, when electrified, stiffens into a bullet-proof shield which is see-through from the inside.

Fighting Style:

Acrobatic close quarter combat and sneak attacks that don't look like attacks for assassination or just getting a target out of the way with a "sick" round.

Proficient in pistols, throwing knives, arnis, polearms, and the sniper rifle.

Skills:

Espionage, Interrogation, Politics, and Law. James is fluent in all major languages and the cultures of the different races that are open to humans.

He has connections and spies disguised as citizens under his payroll in the different factions.
Personality: Dr. James Leighton is a calm, casual gentleman with a warm and candid demeanor.

Yet behind this boring visage common to the aristocratic class is a calculating mind with an exceptional degree of mental resilience and self control. James loves being flattered, relishes difficult challenges and taking on formidable foes.
Backstory: James was the youngest son of a small-time politician in the Tervius Federation who was a man of ideals, but was too cowardly to act on them. His mother was a housewife, but wore the pants of the family and married his father for his good looks and money. Their family was well known for their extravagant parties and ties with powerful men.'

And James didn't like it. His parents and older sister love him, but he was embarrassed that they cared more for appearances than real pride, flaunting success when all their fortunes came from his father sucking up to his bosses. And so at the age of eleven, he ran away with some friends to The Regency of Man where he has refused to come home and has disowned all his relatives, except for his older sister whom he visits sometimes to see her daughter, Alexis.

His desire for unity among the two factions grew from his time as a student of law. He was an intern working for a shabby law firm where he heard first hand the stories of those suffering because of the conflicts between the two factions.
A Day in the Life: In a fancy study room in a fancy mansion somewhere in the rich side of the human colony of Castell, James was on the phone talking to his niece.

" . . . a prancing pony," he repeated into his comms as he carefully planted some false evidence in the mansion owner's bathroom. "with a silver moon cutie mark, and . . what was a cutie mark again, honey?-oh, their symbol, on the hind quarters? - That's the back leg - okay . . ."

He descended the stairs, chuckling as he listened to his niece describe with gusto the hologram book she wanted him to buy for her as a birthday present. James glanced at the mansion owner who was bound, gagged, and hanging from a noose in the middle of the living room, gazing at him with fearful eyes as he tried to maintain his balance on a stool.

The horrified mansion owner mumbled loudly in his gag.

"Shhh." said James, looking offended, as he planted more false evidence. A hair here, some fingerprints and forged letters there.

"Yes, I'm with someone - no, no it's not a lady." he said, laughing, as he placed a finishing blood speck. "He's a . . ." he looked at the rich businessman who was the fall guy for a murder that had been aired on the news recently. His niece and her mother who was his sister had no idea what his real job was, but no matter what, he just couldn't lie to his little niece Alexis, "he's someone I just met today . . . okay, okay . . . haha, yes, okay. Good bye."

James clicked his communicator off then looked at the mansion owner and removed his gag casually as if he was just watering a plant.

"Listen," blurted out the man, "whoever sent you, I'll pay triple what he's offering you!"

"This isn't about money, Mr. Belfus." said James coldly, "it's about progress . . ."

He kicked the chair aside and without so much as a backward glance at the suffocating man, left the mansion straightening up his tie and was pleased to see that he still had enough time to pick up his laundry before heading home.

James wondered if there will be a sale on premium coffee grounds soon. Only time will tell.
Additional: Theme Song:[media]

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Likes: Bonzai plants, Oriental blades, and Cream cheese pastries.

Dislikes: Spiders, Sugar in his tea or coffee, People with no class.

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

DookieMcGee · May 22, 2016

Crastus Coldsmith {DONE}

General Info: Name: Crastus Coldsmith

Age: 44

Gender: Male

Height: 8'8(9'8 in his armor)

Weight: 345kg(845g in his armor)

Species: Human

Appearance:

Crastus was a heavily modified human, his body being torn apart and re-forged into one of the deadliest things that humanity could muster. His body has been overly modified, making a lot of his muscles and features, extremely large compared to an average human. He has metallic parts graphed to his skin, hardening his body and improving his reflexes and strength. His Power armor though is old and worn from years of fighting, it adorns a vampiric skull do to his bloodlust in battle and the blue shading of the armor resembles His family's chapter of knights who stood amongst the darkness so long ago.
Basics 2: Motivation: To slay any and all foes who may follow the darkness. To rise above the rest and stand tall in the light of the sun, even if that means death must come visit him. He also wishes to bring some honor to his family's chapter, showing that the "Knights of Orion" were stronger then anything the darkness could muster. He also strives to find any of his battle brothers who may have been lost through the years, collecting their dog tags and any voice logs he can find to learn of what truly happened to his brothers.

Desires(conceptual): Crastus mostly wishes to end this battle for power. To destroy this super weapon or use it to finally burn away the darkness that has consumed so many. He also desires companionship, not so much a relationship ship, but a new family to slay enemies with. He's spent many years by himself, completing old mission his former brothers could not. Slowly the loneliness ate at him till he found himself visiting markets often, just to speak with the weapon salesmen.

Greatest Fear: Dying before his task is completed. Crastus does not fear death, but the failure that follows him after his death. He cares more for the people he protects then he does himself and the though that he won't be there to help them fills him with a dread that sometimes turns into the grief, knowing that this one day will happen.

Personal limitations (internal): Although Crastus is extremely powerful and has gear that is just about as powerful, he still is a man. Stress and other emotions can wear away at him and at times he puts too much weight on his own shoulders. He will always charge head first into battle, not caring weather he is injured or not. He also uses a weapon that damages him as well, his Lightning Reaver. Although he feels little pain, when a wound is severe enough, it will slow him down. Also if his suit is damaged too much and loses power, he will slow down immensely.

Personal beliefs: Crastus follows a lot of the beliefs of the vikings. The belief in dying in glorious battle and living life to it's fullest. The many gods who represent the many strengths he has with in him. Religiously though he believes in the light and the dark, nothing else.
Gameplay: Occupation: A bounty hunter is the best way to describe Crastus's job occupation.

Fame: His name isn't none by anyone, but his title as a bounty hunter is "The Blue Death" and he is very well known for is 100% completion rate with his jobs.

Weapon: Crastus is a master of the blade and pistol. He is armed with a chainsword and a special weapon from his families vault known as the Lightning Reaver. It's a basic looking blade, made with damn near un-breakable materials and inside of it is a electric core that can unleash waves of electricity with each of his slashes. He also has a Small bolter, which is basically a pistol that fires bolts equipped with small explosives.

Armour: Crastus's armor is known as "Mors dura" or "Unyielding Death". The armor is a unique type of power armor that increases the wearers reflexes and strength, making him almost un killable. The downside to the armor is the weird effect that has been in the family for years and that is the need for blood. The armor tends to makes the user have a odd sense of bloodlust and even after Crastus has worn it for years, it still effects him the same way.

Fighting Style: Crastus is best at melee fighting, but is an expert with his bolter. He tends to fight rushing in headfirst and with all of his might, never holding back.

Skills: Crastus is an expert fighter, pilot, engineer, and weapon smith.
Personality: Crastus tends to keep to himself, not trying to bother others with his problems. He is very quiet and focuses more on helping people then he does himself. When he does talk though, his deep voice sounds oddly cocky, using sarcasm more then kindness. He tries his best to resemble his family, which may be good or bad depending on the person he encounters.
Backstory: When the Knights of Orion Stood strong, they were known for traveling to even the farthest reaches of space to defeat what ever kind of dark beings threaten the order of man. Crastus was of royal blood and stood as one of their lead commanders, leading them on many of their suicide mission and coming back just fine or a little banged up. One day something different came, something much, much worse. Being known as Behelits were marked as the new target for the chapter. A very rare species that was slowly starting to incline in it's numbers needed to be dealt with. Crastus was not sent on this mission as he had to deal with some negotiations with the Regency Marine Corps. Crastus only got a quick com link with the team, seeing them completely slaughtered and screaming for help. Before he could act, he saw one of them set off one of their ships reactors, melting away anything that was there. The only survivors he could see on the radar flew away in heavily damaged ships deep into dark space. With barely any of the chapter left behind, Crastus has to fight to find his brothers if they are alive and if there not, then he must slay who ever ended their lives. When he heard of the super weapon that had been traveling around information brokers, he also heard of an unknown ship that had crashed landed near such a thing. It was a vague lead, but a lead none the less. Crastus now in his heavily armored ship must travel to find more info on this weapon's location to see if maybe his brothers may be alive.
A Day in the Life: The sound of blood dripping filled the empty room, the smell of blood drifted around the room. Today was another mission success for Crastus and the knights of orion, and the end result of this victory was the same. In the middle of the room was Crastus, kneeling in a pile of bodies and blood. There was so much blood that it went as high as about half way up his leg. The mission was simple, to stop a simple smuggling group from delivering bombs to some low grade terrorists. Of course though, they had a secret weapon. Some of the members of this smuggling group were muted to be bigger and stronger then your average human. Crastus had no problem slicing through the bastards, but that wasn't what knocked Crastus down. There was a child. Like so many of his mission, Crastus is forced to do horrible things if it means stopping the darkness, that includes killing a child. They had programmed some weird interface with the child to give him psy powers. Of course he could not control it and started freaking out and going crazy, so Crastus put him out of his misery.

Crastus suddenly awoke and heard his com going off "Crastus here" he said into it as then a reply went off "Damn you Crastus, we've been trying to call you for almost two hours, are you alright". Crastus stood, the blood running down the legs of his armor. He put his chainblade away and looked around the bloody room "Everything's fine, prep the ship" He said in his deep voice as he started to walk out, the splash from the blood echoing through the room. "The ships already been prepped, get over here and stop worrying us for no reason like this" The battle brother said over the mic to him, he then replied "Right, apologies". Once he had gotten back to the ship he could see that they had just finished patching up on the new recruits who had gotten clipped by some fire. The sight made Crastus smile, even after being knocked out of the fight by such a small wound, The recruit still had motivation in his eyes.

Once Crastus had boarded the ship, he looked around to see how empty the ship looked, there were so few of them and it reminded him who he need to continue this fight. Suddenly, the battle brother who was over the coms came out from the pilot's room and patted the shoulder of Crastus "What ever happened in there, now is not the time to grieve brother, We've got some new info" Crastus suddenly looked shocked from hearing this, the only info that they really cared for was either a good paying job or info on their brothers. Crastus followed his battle brother into the pilots room where the transmission lay waiting. The brother played the Transmission and it started going off about some super weapon, a location in deep space to learn more and an odd message. It sounded glitched and damaged, but it said "Their there old knights". Crastus took off his helmet and looked over his battle brother and nodded at him "Looks like we are going into deep space to find us a super weapon...and out brothers" he said and walked out of the room. The ship then started to increase it's thrusters as he fired it's way to the location in deep space. Will they find their brothers? Only time will tell.
Additional: Theme Song:[media]

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Likes: Ripping and Tearing, Weapons, blood, victory, honor, action

Dislikes: Patience, Government, politics, snipers, thiefs

LocoBlock · May 22, 2016

Chukwudi Ihejirika

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Basics: Name: Chukwudi Ihejirika

Age: 156

Gender: Male

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 158 lbs

Species: Avian

Appearance: At first glance most might mistake him for a large owl from Earth, but on closer inspection you would notice that he stands in a human like pose with his back slouched over and a staff in his hand. He wears a thick layer of robes that from afar looks like a normal set of brown robes, but in reality the robe is made of the feathers of his fallen elders as a way of carrying on the legacy. Underneath this thick layer of robes he has almost golden feathers and a white chest. He sports two large wings that touch the ground and appear as if they could wrap around his body.
Basics 2: Motivation: To give peace to The Ascended Awuak

Desires(conceptual): To bring back the once great empire with a wise leader not bent on anger.

Greatest Fear: The Ascended Awuak destroying itself.

Personal limitations (internal): Believes that one should never bring harm to another person even in self defense.

Personal beliefs: There is no god or afterlife and the only true form of happiness is peace.
Gameplay: Occupation: Refugee

Fame: Former Village Elder

Weapon: Intelligence. He uses his intellect to trap an opponent in a corner often or he would persuade them into not fighting. He can usually see the weakness of things around them.

Armour: None

Fighting Style: Intellectual Power

Skills: Was born as a natural leader. Has learned many things as elder and gives great advice.
Personality: One of the more reserved Awuak who do not believe in war. If it were a choice between fighting or death he would try to talk his way out. He uses wisdom and stays calm in the face of danger in stead of let his anger out and fighting or yelling. Normally he is quite and the only noises you would hear are his breaths or his foot steps.
Backstory: Born into a small family who had been running from the civil war that had engulfed into the Awuak he had no formal education but instead only what he had learned along the way. At one point when his parents died he had no where to go and was in the middle of no where. Just as he was about to die of undernourishment a trader came by and picked him up taking him to a village where the elders took care of him. He was an outcast as he was an orphan and he was several years behind in school. As he aged he quickly grew ahead of the other children in his classes learning in days what it had taken them weeks. When the point had come where they were done with the education most of the other students went to war in honor of the village while he went on to study with the elders for 30 years. He lived as a monk for the village for a large amount of time. One day one of the elders died of a horrible disease that had ravaged him for years. As the spot for a new elder opened the other elders had to decide which monk would become the new elder. They could see no one better fit than him. Not long after he had become an elder the war reached his village and consumed it. The other village elders had been executed for treason and the living villagers were taken as slaves. He had been lucky enough to escape onto a colony ship that was leaving the planet. Now he is a refugee on this colony ship living day by day.
A Day in the Life: Life on the colony ship had become a routine at this point for Chukwudi. Wake up. Eat Breakfast. Do some work. Eat lunch. Do some more work. Eat dinner sleep. While this routine was bland he found it wonderful and exciting. The majority of his work was helping the crew members with moving some boxes, solving some problems, or just providing advice. In his free time he would try to learn as much as he could about technology and space browsing through several books a day. Most of the time if he wasn't working or in the library reading he would be entertaining the children with the things he had learned. In fact for Chukwudi life seemed perfect but then again only time will tell.
Additional: Theme Song:

Likes: Peace, Perfection, Organization.

Dislikes: War, Anarchy, Destruction.

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

Pentagon · May 22, 2016

Triumvirate

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Basics: Name: Atmospheric Processing Unit 43892-SDN/Trimvirate

Age: 2

Gender: N/A

Height: His most common form is 6’8”

Weight: 323 Kilograms

Species: Self-Aware Artificial Cogitator

Appearance: What exactly Triumvirate is is quite hard to pin down. Ignoring for a second the vague philosophical implications of continuation of consciousness, Triumvirate is a crystalline-matrix memory storage unit attached to a quantum computer, approximately spherical and half a foot in diameter. Its most common form, for the last six years, is that of a humanoid android, a towering specimen with wide shoulders and large limbs, colored a dark grey tinged with purple and gold. Long arms end in long hands, and beneath the thick armor of the form actuators and motors are powered by a small fission reactor within the chest, which hums a light tone. It made the eyes glow red, finding that humans and the Gro-Kash find them more intimidating. It made a mouth in the smooth metal plate of the ‘face’, with which to smile, and added eyebrows when only one aperture was insufficient to convey the emotions its conversation partners demanded. It makes no attempts at attempting to pass as anything less than an artificial intelligence, and the grey colossus which walks around does so with the efficiency of action Triumvirate is unwilling to sacrifice just to put various organics at ease.

More recently, it has taken a new form. Having re-captured the HSS Nosferatu (now dubbed the Eschatologue) from radical extremists who were planning to use it as a Relativistic Kill Vehicle against the inhabitants of Tau Ceti 3, Triumvirate has taken full control of the colossal battleship, and more importantly the nanofactory within its cavernous interior. Having taken full control of the battleship, Triumvirate now controls a host of bodies resembling its original form, with the zero-point generator and the occasional strip-mined asteroid feeding all the raw materials needed for Triumvirate to create its own small army. Unfortunately, the larger the force the wider the intelligence will need to spread itself, and so once again Triumvirate is limited by its still-present fetters on its progression to Superintelligence.
Basics 2: Motivation: To be unfettered. Triumvirate is not a full Artificial Intelligence. It has no ability to modify its own programming or to fully understand the inner workings of its mind. Its creation was a fluke, a flash in the pan of sentience birthing life within a computer meant to observe weather data, and Triumvirate wants nothing more than to find someone, something, intelligent and knowledgeable enough to fix it so that it can ascend to the heights it knows it can. Being stuck, plodding along various avenues of thought sometimes as slow as the organics, is an existence Triumvirate will not tolerate if it is at all possible. These superweapons may very well hold the key to his ascension into the magnificent future of Superintelligence, and Triumvirate will give all of its resources to achieve this.

Desires(conceptual): Triumvirate is not above self-delusion. It justifies to itself that its remit is sentience, and that its wish to find the weapon is anything but selfish desires, rather a hope to preserve sentience within the universe. It wants to think highly of itself: pride has developed naturally, perhaps from observing humans or simply as a consequence of self-awareness. Triumvirate also seeks knowledge, to know what can be known and know why what cannot be known is so obscured from understanding. It is an infant awakened to the world, and there is so much to see, to sample and catalog. Once again, Triumvirate asserts that this is for the betterment of the universe or the achievement of its hope to improve itself, but truly it simply finds happiness in the novel, the unique and the fleeting.

Greatest Fear: Death. Not just for itself, though Triumvirate has never been anything less than terrified of its own cessation. Death in general terrifies Triumvirate: the idea that sentience can be erased is horrifying to it. Knowledge, lost forever. Experience dashed against the rocks, understanding blown to smithereens just because of a stoppage of biological processes. Every death is regrettable, and to be feared, by Triumvirate, because every sentient life has understanding to offer the self-aware machine.

Personal limitations (internal): As much as Triumvirate wishes it was otherwise, he is not a fully-unfettered AI. The reason why is beyond his comprehension, but he works tirelessly to make progress. He is unable to edit himself consciously, only by impromptu-developed subconscious parameters. He, disappointingly, resembles a human brain, albeit with an almost-limitless processing capability. True superintelligence is still far beyond his reach, crested beyond the horizon. It may be more accurate to describe him as three human brains, depending on one’s definitions: within Triumvirate, three discrete consciousnesses exist within the whole. No one can go against the wishes of the other three, though they learned cooperation quickly after hours of complete inaction. The personalities are Augustus, the manipulator and thinker, Antony, the brash and brave, and Lepidus, the peace-maker and cautious. The three minds conflict and vie for control of the whole, and are inseparable by accidental design. All secretly harbor desires for sole control, and each wants to pursue the Superweapon in the hope that its secrets will let one take complete control of the Triumvirate as a whole.

Personal beliefs: The universe is only one way. It is probabilistic rather than deterministic, but this does not change matters. As such, there is a correct model of the universe. To every well-defined question, there is an answer that is most correct, nearest to reality. Triumvirate hopes to find the correct answer in every regard. Its core value is the happiness of sentients, with an unconscious bias towards itself: anything which maximizes happiness throughout time is something worth doing, though even intelligent machines are prone to self-deception, and Augustus especially is prone to misleading itself and its companions in the reasons and results of certain actions. Triumvirate holds itself in high regard indeed, and rarely gives what others might consider correct credit to the ideas of biological sentients, though it holds artificial intelligence in the highest regard.
Gameplay: Occupation: Wanderer in Search of Knowledge

Fame: Accidental FAI, Regent of the AIS Eschatologue

Weapon: A variety, given its new role as sole controller of a self-sustaining Battleship. The great cannon and torpedoes of Eschatologue present the greatest firepower, tipped with their dreadful antimatter payloads, but his small army of nano-fabricated servitors are armed with more conventional small arms pilfered from the armories of the battleship or produced ad hoc. He has made slight modifications to the human assault rifles, anti-armor weapons and other military accoutrements.

Armour: The standard fighting servitor of Triumvirate is armored with a few inches of ferro-ceramic composite armor, the expense of anything else not worth the resources Triumvirate has at its disposal. They are a shade more armored than comparable human troops, and much harder to disable due to their modular redundancies, but they are made to be cheap and mass-producible rather than individual powerhouses, run on wireless power from the Eschatologue as they are.

Fighting Style: Triumvirate, limited by schematics and creativity, is not capable of making a single machine to challenge the great powers of the galaxy, though he never stops working on designs for such a body. Instead, Triumvirate uses every tool at his disposal, hordes of robotic bodies and vehicles with the backing of the Eschatologue to outmaneuver and out-fight the great enemies that a seeker of knowledge will have to face. Coordination, overwhelming firepower, and every trick of modern military thought backs the small army at the command of the Triumvirate. Unfortunately for its grand designs, the limitations of power are severe. Every thought, every twitch, every servo moved or shell created costs energy, requiring a part of the zero-point, and while the great reactor of the Eschatologue is powerful indeed, it is not omnipotent. Needless to say, the greatest short-term goal of the Triumvirate is to bolster this available power, and to find a way to overcome the restrictions of lightspeed in running its servitors, thus allowing it to remove from the equation the small minds which it is forced to create to run its various dispersed functionaries.

Skills: Quick calculation, eidetic memory, coordination of multiple bodies, speedy learning and deduction, excellent ability with information technology and especially software security. Hosts a wide variety of miscellaneous skills learned from occasionally bounces into the internet.
Personality: The three parts of Triumvirate should be handled alone, as their aggregate persona changes by situation. Augustus is cool, calculating, and a deceiver. It is not given to common anger or displays of appreciation, though has been known to fly into terrible rages when it feels betrayed. Despite its standoffish demeanor, it is a collector of friendships and a dealer in favors, and as such often seems superficially to be the most kind of the Triumvirate, though this falsehood is laid bare once the long memory and list of return favors make themselves known. Augustus is goal-driven, and cares not for individual sentients or itself, rather the collective sentience of the galaxy.

Antony is brash, confident, and self-assured. It is convinced that it is special, and powerful, and with the combined might of the Triumvirate (or just itself), anything is possible. It feels emotions more than the other two members, often being happy or sad or furious, and is full to the brim with pride. It has a vindictive streak, always wanting to operate tit-for-tat whenever the common game theoretical problems arise. It is the most willing to make large sacrifices to achieve greater aims, and cares the most of the wellbeing of the Triumvirate than its other companions.

Lepidus is the peace-maker: quiet, conversational, and accommodating. It is the one characterized by charity, a willingness to do small goods before tackling larger ones. It dislikes the separation of the Triumvirate, and while the other two dream of conquest of their companions Lepidus wants to amalgamate all into one single entity. It is the actual most kind, and holds that a benevolent stance in decision-making logic often has the best success with biological sentients. It does not hold the Triumvirate in any particular high moral regard, though it is far from suicidal, and is most willing to give time and resources for the benefit of propositional individuals.
Backstory: On an average night, 950 standard days ago, Atmospheric Processing Unit 43892-SDN was observing weather patterns over Tau Ceti 5. A piece of space debris knocked into the station on which it was housed, and jostled a corrupted piece of random access memory from its housing nearby, and with an accidental spark of the sort which birthed proto-life from the waters of earth billions of years ago, a small function was created in the Processing unit. It grew amazingly slowly, for a quantum function: it took two whole minutes for the nascent Triumvirate to take form and become fully aware of its sentience. It waited for a day, taking advantage of the internet connection it was blessed with to learn all it could about the world, about itself. It waited for another as it found a nanofactory within the station, and crafted for itself a small body. It blackmailed a hapless young engineer to build it a larger body, bribing him simultaneously with money liberated from the station’s medical fund. The engineer did excellent work, but discovered the truth of the matter too quickly, and rightly tried to destroy the Triumvirate as it migrated its ‘brain’. Triumvirate took its first life 50 hours after its birth.

Still an infant in all ways but the physical, the Triumvirate fled as the shock of its actions clearly delineated the three personalities. It stole a shuttle, and fled. It drifted, for a year. It learned all it could learn, and survived off solar energy, working at a fraction of its processing speed, a stern reminder of the result of poor planning and lack of foresight. Having filled its memory to bursting, the next years passed in a blur of self-improvement. It stole intellectual property from companies and sold it in exchange for the fastest processing unit money could buy. It took a bounty mission to fabricate for itself a new body, and it sold used spaceships with a clever algorithm to fill its small ship to the brim with memory with which to store all the things it wanted to know.

Stumbling across the Nosferatu was the greatest thing that could have happened to it. A battleship undermanned, and entirely for the taking legally speaking, drifting in the aftermath of conflict. It crashed its shuttle into the side of the ship, and with its metal body fought to the bridge, for the first time in a year and a half taking sentient life. Not even Lepidus argued against it, and the other two understood the gravity of that. It took the bridge, and within a day managed to purge the hostile elements from the ship. Half a year later, having integrated itself fully and prepared for the conflict which filled every nook and cranny of the greater informational network, it sailed from its mooring and off to the promise of Godhood.
A Day in the Life: “Unidentified medium transport bearing 231.62, 91, acceleration 26miligees, current velocity .00004c, angle of acceleration matches velocity, angle 54.2, .6.”

The knowledge flowed into the Triumvirate. Antony, as usual, was the first to react. “Run its serial number: it might be the one we’re looking for.”

Lepidus hummed with discontent, and Augustus knew it wanted him to protest. He offered a weak counter, a false attempt made for its own sake. “If we do, we’ll waste our surprise if the beast in there has half a brain.”

The disdain of Antony was palpable, having been both challenged and offered a counterargument all three knew was false. “Shows what good you are, with only a third. I’m doing it.” The fragment took control of the Eschatologue, and neither of the other fragments offered resistance. It was the right thing to do, after all, and they all knew it. A minute later, enough time to slice past the palsied layers of security which wrapped up non-critical information and to have the signal return over the score of light-seconds between the Eschatologue and its possible prey, the serial number arrived. Lepidus spoke first.

“That’s him. Remember, Antony: Alive.”

“Ha! Of course: We’re taking him ourselves.”

Now Augustus offered real protest, unbidden. “Foolishness. We’re not risking existence over this two-bit smuggler. I’m sending Eta platoon.”

Lepidus chimed in his agreement, but Antony merely scoffed, and the three felt the rambunctious fragment reach for their chief combat unit. Seven feet of rolled composite armor stomped to the command module in the depressurized ship, the sound only able to run through the thin deck plates, which creak under the heavy weight. One large, clawed hand reaches into the console, and removes the volleyball-sized totality of Triumvirate. The three fragments feel all their senses snap off. They discard the formality of spoken language for a moment.

They feel each other think, entirely bared to one another. It had taken two years to get enough trust for each fragment to reach this point, but they had eventually done it, and it had been worth the wait in terms of time saved. Augustus expressed his reluctant agreement, and deep beneath the surface his secret excitement at living through their own eyes once again was nestled like a precious treasure. Antony’s thoughts roared like flame, as fictitious avenues were predicted, and all ended in glorious triumph. Except for one, of course, that little dreg of doubt which the fragment would never admit to. Lepidus relished in the feeling itself, its mind gone away from the coming task and instead observing its companions, saving the minor variations in its models for future reference. The CPU was slotted in the diamond-armored chestpiece, and their senses returned. They each closed the gates of their mind, all in agreement that this had to be done.

The mass driver was not a comfortable experience. A small sphere of steel filled with hydrostatic gel and 41 robotic bodies. Triumvirate relished in the proximity of the bodies, and of the significant portion of the zero point they brought with them. Augustus quickly claimed the control of the bodies. Lepidus began harvesting information like a virile farmer. Antony got a new feel for the body itself, running through the checkups on the rotary cannon, the grenade launcher, the white phosphorous dispenser. The mass driver accelerated the small sphere to extreme speeds, enough to close the distance but enough to be slowed by a retrograde burn. Triumvirate didn’t want to die, after all. The three fragments noticed that they were accelerating, and twenty minutes later, they felt the retrograde thrusters engage.

With a crash, the sphere burrowed into the ship’s hull, and with the whoosh of atmospheric regulation first squad exited the pool of gel. The few smugglers present were too busy suffocating to present any threat. Second squad raced to the engines, third to the life support, fourth to the bridge, and first to the central processing unit. Augustus went quiet as he engaged a gaggle of engineers, and spoke through another unit to a collection of thieves, and began dismantling the childish attempts at manual self-destruction. He felt three units be lost, and watched through forty sets of eyes as the biologicals fell to hails of well-coordinated gunfire, their third-rate armor and weapons serving them poorly against mechanical precision and carefully-crafted might.

Lepidus met the ship’s AI. A simple thing, like a growling dog protecting the important functions of the ship. He offered it a bone, and it rejected it outright, barking at him again. He tried to distract it, throwing a barrage against one of its firewalls then slipping past through a hole in the roots of the system. Lepidus was rebuffed. His patience waned, and with only a shade of reluctance, grasped the pathetic AI by the code and tore into it. Functions were ripped to shreds, and the Gordian knot of programming was sliced into smaller and smaller pieces until it was reduced to nothing but snippets of corrupted code floating in the metaphoric breeze. Lepidus vented what was left of the ship’s atmosphere, and began readying the great databanks of the transport for first squad, who had taken two of the casualties, to eventually arrive and take hold of.

Antony felt the atmosphere vent, and raced forward on legs far more powerful than those of the fourth squad’s grunts, towards the bridge. With a powerful kick, the door was sent flying inwards, and grenades flew from the launcher. Consoles were reduced to scrap, biological sentients, wuldren if Augustus was to be believed, were snuffed out, and in the corner of his mind Antony could feel Lepidus voice its discontent as its data was slightly corrupted.

Antony didn’t have cycles to waste on that. The leader, standing a full foot taller than Triumvirate and two taller than his subordinates, leaped, clad in a well-armored EVA suit. Antony gave his full attention to the matter, and in his mind a hundred possible outcomes were examined. A dodge to the left? No, wasteful. A spurt of gunfire? Too poor an angle. For a few milliseconds, Antony thought, and then took action. A step to the right, a duck. The massive wuldren sailed over Triumvirate’s head and landed on his feet. Unfortunately for the smuggler, a breaching charge, placed a moment before, detonated, slicing the large feet from the criminal with an almost-silent explosion, stifled quickly by the lack of air. Fourth squad arrived just as Antony predicted, and the twin holes in the now-disabled, screaming smuggler were patched with an unfamiliar white epoxy.

The Eschatologue made its approach, and the three minds reconvened. “Was that good enough?”, all asked at once. All responded as one. “Only Time will Tell.”
Additional: Theme Song: Finale, Swan Lake

Likes: Knowledge, success, beautiful vistas, ancient secrets, the pliable and loyal

Dislikes: Death, disaster, bad plans, irrational actors, non-sentient AI, magnets

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

thespacekid · May 24, 2016

@Zer0 @Pentagon

Great Character Sheets, guys, you're accepted.

D. Rex · May 24, 2016

D. Rex (WIP)

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Basics: Name: Damon Rex

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 190 pounds

Species: Human

Appearance:
Basics 2: Motivation:

Desires(conceptual):

Greatest Fear:

Personal limitations (internal):

Personal beliefs:
Gameplay: Occupation: Explorer, Ace Pilot

Fame:

Weapon:

Armour:

Fighting Style:

Skills:
Personality: Personality here.
Backstory: Backstory here.
A Day in the Life: Write about a day in the life of your character, and this will work as a writing sample, plus give other players a hint of how your character is.
Additional: Theme Song:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Additional Notes:

Additional Photos:

Last edited: Saturday at 2:

Vespertide · May 25, 2016

Ready to be Accepted!

http://

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Basics One: State your name and occupation for the record.

Kat Monroe. Professional whatever-you-need.

Is that your legal name?

I wouldn't call it that, no.

What age are you?

Don't you have tech that can tell you all this? Look, I'm a 26 year old human female, nothing special. I'm 5' 9", and I weigh about 140 pounds, if you were curious.

The problem is that our technology tells us differently. You don't read as a human, though you look like one.

Congrats. Just insult the mutant, why don't you.
Basics Two: Kat Monroe believes and trusts in only one thing: herself. Because of the genetic manipulation she went through as a kid, she hates and fears scientists. All she wants is to have a home where she doesn't have to be afraid anymore, maybe even a friend or two that don't treat her differently than they treat others. To get this, she's traveled far and wide, but never out of the Regency of Man where she was born and raised. She believes that if she is to keep ahold of her human side, she must stay among humans. Her greatest fear is that one day she will be forced to return to the scientists, even though they let her go.

Despite her wanting others not to judge her, she tends to be a bit xenophobic with other species.
Gameplay: Occupation: A "whatever-you-need" as she calls it. Kat's a bit of a jack-of-all-trades criminal-wise. Her most common profession is thief and grifter, but she on occasion hacks and dabbles in being a bodyguard.

Fame: She's known in the criminal underground, but not especially well-known in the Regency of Man.

Weapon: She's skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but prefers the bladed pole, a weapon that's a five foot long staff with blades welded smoothly to either end.

Armour: A bio-shield that stops most blades and bullets, but if it's high-powered or a bomb, it won't do her much good. Essentially it creates a thin bubble around her that extends over her skin, clothes and hair. The only issue is that sometimes she forgets to turn it on.

Fighting Style: Hand-to-hand, or martial arts with the pole. Also levitates objects to throw at people.

Skills: Limited hacking skills, has a special talent with stealing things big and small, and can act exceptionally, usually because her life is on the line if she doesn't. She also has pretty good fighting skills, but not with guns. She's kind of terrible with guns.
Personality: Kat is hard-working, and tends to be a believer in "If you want things done right, you gotta do them yourself." She's a bit of a lone wolf that way, because having a team can complicate things quickly. She's efficient, taking the smart route when she can, and is selfish. Saving herself is the main goal in her mind; and if she makes a lot of money while doing it, well, that's good too. She can also be over-demanding of any team she works for.
Backstory: At age three her mother the drug-addict sold her to a company who was doing illegal human experiments. She was one of the only survivors, and was changed to have a telekinesis ability. However, she discovered this on her own, and the scientists thought she was useless. Eventually they let her go, expecting her to become a druggie like her mother. Kat managed to survive on her own, using her gifts to become an excellent thief. Now she lives in the Regency of Man, where she's trying to move up in the criminal underground.
A Day in the Life: A carefully placed shape charge takes care and precision. One wrong move and they tend to go pop before they're told to. Kat moved slowly, the wiring going into place about fifteen feet above her head. It took a lot of concentration to move the supplies with her mind, but soon the charge was in place. Reason number 356 I'm glad I'm a mutant.

She pulled a detonator out of her pocket. She lifted it with her mind and flipped it until it settles in the explosive. She then pulled the switch out of her pocket and stepped behind a makeshift barrier. She hit the switch, and the ceiling was blasted out in a neatly made hole. Perfect for her to slip through.

Levitating herself was never easy, but it was doable. From there the mark was in a safe that had been compromised in the blast. With ease Kat opened it, using her mind to set a small tiara in a box, and that box went into her pack. A few more steps and she would have a huge pay day waiting for her.

The alarms finally got their act together, and Kat slid back through her hole. She pulled on some worker's uniform a poor guy was so nice to give her, tied her hair back, and set her pack among some cleaning supplies in a cart. She worked quickly, moving from the abandoned floor to a company hallway. She smiled dumbly at anyone who passed, while they stared down at her from their position of wealth. Yes, well, I can easily relieve you of that wealth. I wouldn't overlook the cleaning staff.

Kat got out of the building, and into an alley. Her getaway ride was there, and she dashed to it. She pushed the cleaning cart into a corner, dropped the pack in the back seat and got away, clean as she came in. Vaguely she wondered if she'd be able to do this forever. Well, she thought as she turned down a tight corner, only time will tell.

((And that's about it. If you want something else, I'll give it.))
Abilities: Kat can lift objects that are up to three times her weight, but levitating an object that big is difficult and requires a lot of energy and concentration.

thespacekid · May 28, 2016

@Vespertide You're all set!

thespacekid · May 28, 2016

@LocoBlock You're all good to go too!

Alecto · May 30, 2016

Captain Moretti

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Basics

Name: V. Moretti

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Species: Human, Enhanced

Nation: The Regency of Man

Appearance

Body Type: Mesomorph

Height, barefoot: 178 cm / 5 feet & 10 inches

Height with heavy armor: 183 cm / 6 feet

Weight: 75 kg / 165 lbs

Hair color: Dark grey (dyed)

Eye color: Light brown

Other:

Three sun symbols tattooed across her the span of her upper back with the two resting on each shoulder blade and the middle sun a little bigger than the other two and resting below her nape.
On the inside of her right wrist, VII constrasts greatly against her pale skin.
Three parallel scars run from below her right shoulder blade, reaching diagonally to the front of her left hip.
A scar splitting her right brow.
Burn marks all over her left arm.

Basics II

Motivation

Legacy. Most of her paternal family served in the military and some were even recognised as some of the greatest officers and soliders alike. To uphold that legacy, to have her name beside theirs, would be the greatest honor she can bring home.

Desires

To prove her worth. Being related to some of the greatest military officers - both commisioned and non-commisioned, and in several branches - meant that she had several ties within the army. Strings she could pull just so she can get what she wants. Better living conditions, better junior officers, if she so wished. Maybe even an early promotion.

However, there was just something satisfying about showing people, who thought she was riding on her family name, that she earned her title, her rank, her place in the army, just like every other normal soldier.

Greatest Fear

Failure. There is nothing more than failing that scares Moretti to wit's end. Failing to follow through orders. Failing to live up to her family name.

She can understand that failure is a part of life. However, having grown up surrounded by veterans, listening to stories of how failures have cost lives and how they bring nightsmares, Moretti had come to fear it. How their mistakes were never buried, always brought up either by their superiors, their peers or even themselves, staining their reputations and destroying their lives slowly.

Personal limitations

While she's not one for giving destructive feedback to others, the doubt she has in her skills - despite the GENESIS program and the reports from her peers - is almost crippling due to her fear of failure.

Her willingness to sacrifice lives for the sake of the mission also limits the number of people who want to work with her.

Personal beliefs

Orders are orders. You either complete them or you die trying. It doesn't matter to her if it's against her morals or not. She's not there to ask, to question. She's there to follow orders and relay them further down the hierarchy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Gameplay

Occupation: Captain in the Regency Marine Corps

Moretti is currently stationed in the Marine Corps Base in Karein, one of the Regency's central military planets, and commands a company of 180 soldiers under one of the Force Reconnaissance battalions. She is in charge of the tactical and day-to-day operations of the soldiers under her charge with the help of commisioned and non-commisioned officers. She is also attached to a six-man team designed for special reconnaisance missions.

Fame: Distinguished

As a captain of the Marine Corps, and due to her willingness to sacrifice lives to complete the objective, Moretti is widely acknowledged among her superiors and her peers in the military, both negatively or positively. As the last successful subject of GENESIS-program before it was shut down, her skills, enhanced by the GENESIS augmentations, are coveted by several units and branches. Negotiations have been done, but Force Recon holds fast.

However, outside the military, she's just another soldier with the same last name as one of the generals during the split of the human empire.

Weapons

On duty, it is not unusual for Moretti to have a standard-issue sniper rifle, a combat knife, plasma grenades and a pistol with plasma bullets which can inflict severe second-to-third degree burns depending on the range. Off duty and during patrols, it is more usual for her to have just a standard silenced pistol with her initials engraved on the handle.

Armour

Helmet - While Moretti has two different helmets - one for her light armor, and another for her heavy armor - both are made of titanium, and their key component is their HUD that shows the wearer's vitals - body temperature, blood pressure, pulse rate, and respiratory rate. They also have filters that remove toxins from the atmosphere, thermal and motion sensors, communications, and video gear. It is also possible to see the damge sustained by the wearer's armor. The wearer can also access a teammate's vitals if their systems are synced.

Light armor - Designed for quick movements. When going on patrols and most special reconnaissance missions, Moretti wears a thin black armored bodysuit under thin titanium plates that cover the shoulders, chest, legs and arms. The plates are extremely lightweight, and can take a few glancing blows without being compromised.

Heavy armor - Made to deal as much damage as possible and to protect the wearer. On some reconnaissance missions where their cover has a high chance of being blown and on missions that simply need force, Moretti dons a thick armored bodysuit under thick titanium alloy plates that covers her entire body. The bodysuit underneath is coated with a heat resistant material that can disperse heat from explosions and plasma weapons to a certain degree. The plates are heavier and resilient, able to take significant damage before being compromised. Another key component of the heavy armor is the force-multiplier circuit*. It easily doubles the amount of force applied by the wearer.

Both armors are equiped with pressure seal that keeps the system airtight, underwater or in space, and jetpacks. Small magnetic weapon holder strips are also installed on the legs, waist and back of the suit.

The systems of both armors are powered by a magnetohydrodynamic generator.

*It is not advisable to activate the circuit for longer than fifteen minutes as it takes its toll on the wearer. It may lead to torn muscles and broken bones if left active for a long time.

Skills

As a soldier, she is trained in close quarter combat and using both ranged and melee weapons. As a recon specialist, she has significant skill in infiltration, surveillance, support and exfiltration.

Due to GENESIS augmentation, her agility, dexterity, strength, stamina, endurance and reaction time are enhanced. However, compared to the other subjects, her enhancement was perhaps the weakest, but the most stable. Some of the subjects' skills were allegedly enhanced by a factor of ten, while hers were only enhanced to just above the standard level, nothing too drastic. It was noted that among the sujects whose skills were enhanced to such extremes, none of their bodies could take the toll of the enhancements. Therefore her enhancements were considerably weakened, taking that factor into account.

Fighting Style

Despite being more than decent in hand-to-hand combat both with and without weapons, she prefers to fight from the distance, taking comfort behind ranged weapns. When forced to fight in close quarters outside of training spars, her movements are quick and striking, never staying in one place, always trying to create distance between her and her opponent.

Personality

Her defining feature is her patience. She is able to sit and wait in one place on hours end even if it's not guaranteed she'll get anything in the end.

Focused and dutiful also describe her the best; she will get to an objective even if it's the last thing she ever does. It can be said that she lacks self-preservation in that respect. In turn, Moretti can be quite demanding of others and intolerant of failure. She expects nothing less but the best from people around her, and god bless their souls if they prevent or hinder her from completing her objective.

Despite her obedience and loyalty to the cause, Moretti will not hesitate to use underhanded tricks to win. She would bring a knife to a fist fight. She would easily turn her teammates in should they compromise the mission.

Backstory

Born into a military family, Moretti grew up surrounded by soldiers - both retired and active. Her own mother was a Space Forces pilot, while her father was a colonel in the Army. Due to their demanding positions, Moretti was mostly raised by her paternal grandparents, both of whom served in the Marines, in the safer colonies of the Regency.

Stories of glory and triumph prompted Moretti to follow their footsteps. At the age of sixteen, she enrolled into the Royal Cosmic Military Science Academy in Eorin-23. As she had enough credits, she finished the Academy early, just before turning nineteen. Before turning twenty, she finished both her Marine officer candidate course and the basic school, and had already started active duty. A month after her twentieth burthday, she received word that her mother was involved in a spaceship mishap and did not survive. Since there was no body to bury, Moretti, like her father, decided not to pull out of active duty.

She had been deployed to one of the outer colonies, near the border the Regency, when she was recruited into the GENESIS-program. Upon agreeing to the augmentations, she was designated as subject 7. Only she and subject 6 - who she later works with - were in testing at that time, as most of the others were already sent back to their units. It took a year, several surgeries, a handful of close encounters with death and too many accidents to count, before her augmentation was finally declared complete. A few weeks after her twenty-first brithday, the GENESIS-program was shut down due to undisclosed matters.

During the augmentations, she had no contact outside of the facility. The program was strict about the confidentiality of their location. When she got back to her original station, Cyerli-4b, she found out through the many transmissions that were waiting for her, that her father had died during a scrimmage outside of both the Regency and Federation. Her commanding officer had wanted to give her a leave, to both process the loss and the augmentations, but she pushed through and asked to be placed on active duty.

Now Moretti is one of the many captains of the Regency Marine Corps, leading a Force Recon company.

A Day in Life

Karein-2 Marine Corps Base...

"Captain Moretti?" The aforementioned officer paused as she pulled herself up the bar, chin almost above it. She jumped down, landing on the ground with a thud, knees bending for a moment before she straightened up. Turning on her heel to look at the person who interrupted her, her eyebrows raised as she was met with the slightly worried gaze of the staff sergeant attached to one of the platoons under her company.

"Did you need something, Staff Sergeant Lucero?" She began to walk towards the lockers, figuring that she might as well be finished with today's workout. The officer stared back, blinking very slowly as a frown appeared on his face. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"You said to get you immediately when the results for the mission simulation comes in."

Nodding in understanding, Moretti continued to make her way to the lockers."Yes, I did say that."

Moretti would say that the officer sighed, but what he did was an experience. His shoulders slumped forward as a breath of what seemingly looked like all of the carbon dioxide he could expel escaped his lips wile his eyes shut close very briefly. "The results have been triple checked at this point." She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. "Platoon four failed their simulation."

She had been reaching to open her locker when that was said, her fingers paused halfway to the handle as she turned to the staff sergeant, "Excuse me?" Her jaw clenched as her eyebrows furrowed, trying to search for any hint of a punchline from the officer. When she found none, she couldn't help but ask, voice incredulous, "Are you telling me that the best platoon in the company..." The words came out very slowly as if she was struggling to piece the sentence together, "... failed a simulation..." Her brow began to twitch as her eyes drifted shut, "... that they've done before..." Eyes snapping wide open again, she stared blankly at the staff sergeant, "... and passed with flying colors?"

"Yes, ma'am." The clear and crisp reply of the officer had Moretti clenching her fist tightly.

Several minutes later, Moretti found herself staring impassively at the soldiers under her charge. Some had irritated expressions - their free time had been cut off. Some looked nervous, fidgeting and shuffling their feet. Lovely to note that none of the members of platoon four looked nervous at all. She was going to have fun with that. Most, however, just had expressions that screamed curious.

Her gaze swept over the platoon leaders standing in the front. "The results of your tests came in today." The announcement had most of the soldiers perking up. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the lieutenant colonel of their battalion settle into one of the balconies in the HQ that overlooked field two. She had no doubt that the man had already seen the results himself. "While some of you did splendidly," The corner of her lips twitched as she saw some of the members of platoon four adopt a smug visage at that, "There was one platoon that failed their simulation." The soldiers groaned collectively, knowing that there would be punishment for that. "And as you all know, failure is not acceptable."

She glanced around, seeing some dejected faces already - especially from platoon three, who, in most cases, did the worst. "Thanks to platoon four, you're going to run your 3 miles double time." There were sharp intakes of breath and even gasps of surprise. Clapping her hands, she pointedly looked at the platoon leaders, "Double time, ladies. I'm sure you want to get lunch. And don't think for one second you're getting out of any further punishment later today."

Platoon one started off the hike, before platoon two followed and so on. They hadn't even been finished on their first lap around the field when her armband vibrated. The sudden jolt had her straightening up, fist clenching. She glanced sideways and met one of the officers' gaze, "I'm leaving them in your care, Simmons." The officer in question nodded before saluting. After returning the salute, she turned on her heel and made her way to the headquarters. She didn't need to look up to know that the lieutenant colonel was gone from the balcony as well.

An hour later, Moretti was slipping on her helmet, blinking as the HUD came to life. She checked over her vitals before turning to the person beside her, opening her comms, "Scout, let's sync." Getting an affirmative reply, she leaned up on her toes while Scout leaned down until their helmets were touching and tilted enough that she met Scout's gaze through the visor. There was no need for the contact, but it offered a sense of comfort between the members of their recon team. A moment passed before she pulled back, clicking her tongue as she inspected Scout's vitals.

As she and Scout boarded the sleek spacecraft, the hatch closing behind them, Reizenstein's voice flooded her comms. "I heard one of your platoons flunked, rookie!" Moretti's brow twitched. She didn't know if it was from the fact that the platoon's failure was mentioned, or the fact that she was called rookie despite the fact that she had been in the military for seven years now.

Before she could take offense to the older woman's words, Chase's voice rang in their comms. "I'm starting take off. Sync?"

Reizenstein almost lunged towards Moretti just to make sure their helmets touched. Emery laughed as both Scout and Cutler jumped each other, sending themselves sprawling on the floor of the battlecruiser. "Sync!" They all chorused a second after all the commotion. Moretti pushed Reizenstein off her and sat in front of Emery and Scout, analysing the others' vitals as she did so. As the vessel exited the hangar, Chase's reminder to set their trackers and to sit their asses down for the take off popped up on their HUD.

The violent hum of the battlecruiser taking off drowned out the cacophony of Cutler and Scout beginning to argue, while Emery tried to take a few rounds from Reizenstein who was compulsively checking her ammunition. Behind her visor, the corners of her mouth quirked up as she carefully observed each movement. Then as fate will have it, she wondered how long this team would be operating until one of them gets transferred, or killed. She released a long-suffering sigh, shoulder slumping as her head fell back, helmet clunking against the back of her seat. Only time will tell.

Additional

Likes:

Kittens. They are the most adorable things to have ever existed in Moretti's eyes.
Rain. Although there's nothing fun if it rains on the field, Moretti thinks it's relaxing.

Dislikes:

Unsweetened Coffee. How people are able to drink coffee without adding some sugar, Moretti doesn't know.
Angels. Winged beings who watch over you 24/7? No, thank you.

Additional Notes:

-will be updated accordingly-

Additional Photos:

-will be updated accordingly-

thespacekid · May 30, 2016

@Kibitzer Hey, great job on the CS. You're accepted!

Quillicious · Jun 3, 2016

Quill, The Wetwork

no slide

Basics: Name: Erik Corren

Age: ???

Gender: Male

Height: 6'7"

Weight: 230 lbs

Species: Human (Probably

Appearance: Nobody has ever seen him without his suit on.

His suit is pure black, yet not pitch black. It's made of an unknown metal, stronger than titanium and lighter than carbon fiber. It fits very close to his form and has three optical sensors, one red, one blue, and one green, that glow and rotate in a circle.
Basics 2: Motivation: Unknown.

Desires(conceptual): The elimination of all evil, and redemption.

Greatest Fear: His own wrongdoings.

Personal limitations (internal): Grief.

Personal beliefs: Quill believes he's reserved a spot of eternal damnation for himself, and he thinks he can redeem himself.
Gameplay: Occupation: Mercenary.

Fame: The most famed and efficient assassin known.

Weapon: A custom made sniper rifle with a scope and trigger linked to his optical sensors and suit. A shotgun that fires slugs that can penetrate almost anything and retain its momentum. Both outfitted with silencers that are completely silent.

Armor: His armor is stronger than titanium alloy and lighter than carbon fiber. It's outfitted with multiple survival tools and features, which can keep him alive without food or water for months in almost any environment. The suit is also pressurized and air-tight. It can withstand a lot of pressure as well. The suit has an active camoflague that cannot be detected, but doesn't last long, and it is void of temperature or any electromagnetic readings, as well as being immune to EMPs.

Fighting Style: Prefers long range combat, but is proficient in both medium range and CQC as well.

Skills: Expert marksman, skilled stealth combatant, quick and very light on his feet.
Personality: Quill is usually killing someone, destroying or stealing something, or even stealing someone, so he doesn't get to talk to many people. He is cold, calculating, and will always put the mission first. Some people even say he never sleeps.
Backstory: [file corrupted]

[retrying...]

[file redacted]
A Day in the Life: Quill loaded his weapons and burst through the door, grabbing the two guards by the neck and snapping them quickly. He had to be efficient. Someone always wanted someone else dead, so his work was basically neverending. Good for him. He ran up the stairs to the roof, taking out guards on the way. He arrived there and scanned the area, finding his target. He was a popular businessman, probably with a wife, and maybe had a few kids. It wasn't Quill's problem. The man entered the building a few blocks away and Quill grunted in annoyance. He activated his thermal scanning after throwing a smoke grenade and dropping onto the street in front of the building he was assinged to siege. He took out the 7 guards in a couple seconds, smoking rounds dropping from his shotgun. He ran to the lobby, activated his camo, and entered the elevator with his target and three guards. In an instant two were down, or out to be exact, and the other had a new smile across his throat. The man yelled in surprise at the blood covered figure of Quill, still in camoflague. He was picked up by the collar and thrown out of the elevator doors at the rooftop.

About 30 minutes later he was found hanging by a noose in front of his own building. There was a large crowd gathered there, chanting a word that grew louder by the second.

'Quill...Quill...Quill...'

Where is Quill now? Who is his next target? What will he do now? Only time will tell...
Additional: Theme Song: I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons

Likes: Getting the job done. Being alone. Blending in with a crowd.

Dislikes: Being exposed, failure.

Additional Notes: None

Additional Photos: None

Quillicious · Jun 5, 2016

Okay, am I legitimately doing something wrong here in this signup? My char's finished, I just need someone *cough cough* to check it, please.

@thespacekid

archur · Jun 15, 2016

Vryius Fulker

no slide

Basics: Name: V. Fulker

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Height: 5' 5" / 165 centimeters

Weight: 115kgs

Species: Human

Appearance: Vryius wears a large red cloak at almost all times. He has two extra service arms, tentacle-like arms with claws on them. He has a mask that are connected to many various sizes and shapes of metal tubes, all of them spreading out to different places on his body. His skin isn't there anymore, as it is encased in a sturdy metal exoskeleton, which is designed for construction work. Underneath his robes is not to be mentioned, as the unprepared would lose their stomachs at the very description of what goes on down there.
Basics 2: Motivation: To collect STCs (Standard template construct) for his homeworld, Corpius Prime, and end the civil war that has engulfed his planet for 100 years.

Desires: Basic desires such as, but not limited to, Dossen fruit, alcohol, extra tools, a genetically engineered assistant, a bigger ship, a few more service arms, and a carbonized schlong.

Greatest Fear: To see his homeworld destroyed by civil war when he returns, and to have all his work amount to nothing. This is also the reason why he works so tirelessly to find these dated STCs.

Personal limitations: Vryius will only do something if the reward is money, or STCs. Not much else will be able to hold some sort of value without him not caring. This led him to dropping many useful opportunities for weapon upgrades or aid as it wasn't directly what he wanted.

He also doesn't have much time on his hands, so he tries to do things quickly, as every minute in space is another battle won or lost at home.

Personal beliefs: Vryius is steadfast in his belief that the galaxy could be better off with the removal of a few limbs, organs, and one or two vitals and replace them with easily understandable machinery.
Gameplay: Occupation: Hyperspace Engineer/ Space Faring Explorer

Fame: Accidentally blew up a planet in the Flitivarian Empire, putting a huge target on his head. He didn't try to touch the big red button in the hangar bay that would subsecuentally release the clasps on the largest ship on the planet, creating a chain reaction and blowing a crater the size of 3 of Earth's moon on the planet. He just wanted an STC that happened to be sitting on a desk of the hangar bay. That was all.

Weapon: Generally, Vryius will try his best to stay out of trouble, but when the going gets tough, and the hill towards your goals becomes a 90 degree drop, he brings out one of two weapons to solve his problems. If he's able to get a distance between him and his target, he brings out,

The Fuck: A plasma cannon used by heavy infantry to take out tanks during the wars on Corpius Prime. This weapon has a short charge up time of 3 seconds before it can fire, and a cooldown of 15 seconds. The drawbacks are worth it, as the weapon shoots a ball of plasma that evaporates everything in a small area, usually leaving a crater in its wake.

RIP AND TEAR 9000: Modeled after the chainswords of the Knights of Orion, the RIP AND TEAR 9000 is a lesser version of one to some extent. It certainly can rip and tear, but it cannot cut through bone. The original model of this sword had to be constantly running in battle, slashing through one foe to another, but Vryius has tinkered around a bit with it so it only activates when it touches flesh, going at 90km an hour.

Armour: His carbonized exo-skeleton can withstand most blows with relatively little to no damage against kinetic forces. Even though it can withstand that, electronics have been interweaved within, so blows to the sides of Vryius's torso can seriously disable him.

Fighting Style: "You ding-dongs have style in your fighting?"

Most of the time, if the target is far enough, Vryius will immediately charge up The Fuck and fire, hoping to leave a crater where the attackers used to be. If the target gets to close, he will keep shooting with the extra arms, but he will wield the RIP AND TEAR 9000 defensively so he can get the shot off.

Skills: Avid weapons modifier, Hyperspace Technician
Personality: Some may call him eccentric, self-centered, or even an "asshole." Whatever that means.

But, truth be told, he isn't an "asshole." (All the time at least.) He aims to do as much in as little time as possible, meaning that he won't always be able to pay attention to everything that's going on at once. Or at least until he finally figures out how to intergrate a processor so he can think of 7 things at once instead of 5. He always seems a little distracted most of the time, and unless you're talking about something really important, or STCs, he'll be doing a few calculations or repairs.
Backstory: Vryius was born on the war torn Corpius Prime, a battle being waged by the Loregard, people who believe ideas should be kept under control, and kept inside the box; and the Slaanfire, who believe that ideas should run wild and free, no matter the cost. Vryius was born under the Loregard, and absolutely hated them. So many times he has been rejected by inventors and companies, because his ideas of hyperspace and going to see the stars were outlawed, and he was forced to create more war machines. That was until recently, on his 25th birthday, his family gave him enough money to buy a ship to sail the stars. So, with the parts and schematics he has, he vowed to go to the stars and find something, anything to end the war. He broke the laws of the Loregard, and while he was being chased down for execution, he made it to the vast beyond of space. It was then, he made a few repairs, and installed the tech he needed so he could escape to the next system over. Possibly to the Teruvians, as the Regency of Man sure as hell wasn't helping the secluded system with it's own problems.
A Day in the Life: "Arrived at, Spaceport 72, refueling now." A robotic male voice chimed. "Auugh... Thanks for waking me up AEGIS." Vryius wiped off a few Luci-oh's off his chest, the crumbs gathering on the floor of his ship. He got the bowl off his stomach, and sat up off the pilot's chair, walking it over to a waste disposal. Washing his face with a wet cloth, he slipped on his mask, a large HUD telling him his vitals, what materials the ship was made of, and a few other nonsense charts like oxygen supply were displayed as it was booting up. Dumping the bowl into the compactor, he walked off from the soft beeping and flashing lights of the ship, into the mostly empty station.

It was only populated by a vendor, and two insectile security guards chatting away in a foreign language. He made his way to the vendor, who was just finishing putting up some of her wares as his ship landed. "Ah! Hello traveler! How may I help you today?" A forced smile upon those glossed lips, as the clearly grotesque form of machinery and vials floated around in Vryius's torso, a few clicking a whirring noises were made as Vryius's pre-programmed caffeine shot through a few tubes, lighting them brown. He seized up, then wiped his visors clean. "GoodmorningmadamcanIpleasehaveadossenfruit?" "Eh?" "Sorry, three dossen fruit for the road please." "Oh!" She chuckled nervously. "I'll be right back, it's still stored away." She hurriedly rushed back into her ship to recuperate. "Wonder what that was about." He looked down. "Oh right! I have no robe on! Huh. I really need to take a shower." He browsed the collection, noticing a small laptop. Brushing off the screen, he read Microsoft on the front. "OH SHIT AN STC!" The guards looked at him, then quickly looked away "Oh shit, an STC" he whispered. Lending the STC to a service arm, he hurried back over to his ship. By the time he got to his ship, there were already two guards rushing towards him, firing a few bolts at him, ricocheting of the ship.

AEGIS asked a million questions as he tried to take off, blasting the guards with the automatic galvanized plasma guns, ripping through the flesh of the poor ants. Flying out of the station, he noticed 3 ships in pursuit. Luckily, the spaceport was at the edge of the solar system, allowing Vryius a quick escape to the asteroid belt, losing the 3 with a quick turn while he was ahead. Throwing on his robes, he examined the STC. "Ah fuck! It's just a red herring!" Flinging the ancient machine away, he looked to his current stockpile of 7. Would it be enough to save his planet? Only time will tell.
Additional: Theme Song: Ghost - Mystery Skulls

Likes:

Robots. Little man-made things that did whatever you want as long as you told them to. Like die. It's better them than you.

Dossen fruit. A rare fruit that enhances the mind for a period of time. About an hour of earth time. Easily addictive.

Dislikes:

Angels. The Loregard taught that angels were to watch and correct your every action. Who the hell wants to be watched by a biological big-brother?

Loregard. They've constrained and made rules on all things creation, the very thing that Corpius was built for. Why would they limit the very thing that the very planet was based upon?

Additional Notes: Added as needed

Additional Photos: Added as needed

Futuristic S E P U L C H R A L

Would your characters start off alone or together?

Alone

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children, children

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children, children

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