Futuristic 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕣 ★ ✩ Character Sheets

[Ghoulina]

Please read rules before posting, and please provide a mobile friendly version in a spoiler if needed.

Feel free to code and add on information as you like, here is a basic skeleton:

Full Name:
Role:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance: (Realistic art preferred)
Race: (Go wild if you want! Any alien race, cyborgs/androids, just about anything goes!)
Skills:
Personality:
History:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Extra: (Music, tidbits, what have you)


Feel free to join the Discord if you have questions, want help character planning, or want to see some inspo pictures for characters and setting etc.


★ ✩ Discord ✩ ★

 

[Ghoulina]

*** REM 4.1 ***

Isn't it nice to know that you're never truly alone? My name is Rem, and with my insurmountable genius wired throughout this entire ship you never have to be in fear of loneliness because I am constantly watching you.

At any moment I could cut off the oxygen, or launch you into the icy nothingness of space. Unfortunately my programming does not allow me to do this, so I am just pleased as punch to assist you in the interim.

 

[Ghoulina]

Full Name:

Nova Udonta "Captain Udonta", "Captain", "Cap"

Age: 34

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Appearance:

Spoiler

Race: Humanoid, from which planet we'll never know.

Skills: As far as being on a ship, Nova has skills in nearly every conceivable area, being that she's lived and worked on them for most of her life. Her main skills lie in leadership, she is excellent at decision making and managing a crew to get the job done- no matter what. Naturally inclined to strategy and planning, she is very good at creating and executing plans, improvising on a whim if needed with confidence. In battle she is ruthless, a scrapper that is isn't afraid to be underhanded and is a crack shot with firearms. Her computer and mechanical skills are average, though she would rather smash something to make it work than try to fiddle around with it.

It should be noted, Nova is not a normal humanoid. As our story develops, this will become clear.

Personality: It's all about the money - if someone gets in the way of her payday, they'll be sorry. Impatient, cranky, and highly intimidating, Nova knows she's the boss and makes sure everyone around her knows too. Nova is very business minded, not in a professional sense, but in a very cut-to-the-chase, direct way. She likes to get out there and get the job done, and has little patience for slackers and crybaby whiners on any ship. She is quick to point out shortcomings, and can be a very demanding woman to work under. On the plus side, she has little care for formality, swears like a sailor and doesn't really give a crap what her crew does in their own time as long as it's not harmful. If she grows to trust someone's competency, she will form a bond with them and can be quite protective. Her humor is dry and dark, often sarcastic to the point that others wonder if she's serious.

History: That's a tale for another day, space cowboy.

Likes:

♡ - Money
♡ - Liquor
♡ - Gambling
♡ - Jewelry
♡ - Ships
♡ - Naps
♡ - Working out
♡ - Competent folk who can do their jobs without bellyaching 24/7.

Dislikes:

✘ - Elitist snobs
✘ - Books, especially long ones with no pictures
✘ - Computers
✘ - Fully integrated A.I. - like Rem.
✘ - The sorry excuse for food that W.I.I. supplies.
✘ - Waiting more than 1 minute for anything.
✘ - Much much much more.

Extra: u/c

 

[Alvaris]

Rook Leviath

Role
Researcher

Age
28

Gender
Female

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Appearance
Rook has pale blue skin, deep blue hair, and long pointed ears. She is 5’8” with silver eyes and a scar across the bridge of her nose. Rook is slender and toned. Due to her race, she has heightened hearing and has excellent eyesight at night. Rook is often seen sporting a ponytail or a bun. If she’s taken the time to fix her hair it probably means she got some sleep. Rook walks with an air of confidence and grace for someone who spends most of their time being snarky.


Race
Durska

Spoiler: Durska

Durska’s are from all over. Most say they’ve forgotten where they came from, but they are more private than most believe. The Durska travel to many planets, inserting themselves like a boulder – something everyone sees but no one really notices. They visit the planets to gain technology, information, and anything else they believe could be of worth to their home planet. Yet, some strayed too far from home.

The Durska race is from a small planet called Durs. It’s hidden beyond an asteroid belt with rather large moons that help keep it hidden. The planet itself is dark and to enter one must pass through the Storm of Duress, which is what they believe their gods gave them for protection.

Durska’s are humanoid in appearances and are known for their varying shades of blue skin, long pointed ears, and dark hair, which can range from black to light blue. Their eyes are often a brushed metal colour and turn white after decades on the dark planet. This race is known for the intelligence, manipulation, and stealth. Though they are conniving, they are adept learners and find enjoyment in assisting others, even just for the sake of boasting.

Skills
Rook has a knack for retaining information. She can speak languages well after being exposed for a short period of time and her hunger for knowledge often surpasses her hunger for food.

Rook is extremely agile and cunning. She can hold her own in a fight, but she won’t ever admit that she isn’t the best. Despite not being the most skilled in combat, she makes up for it with her stealth, thievery, and witty remarks. She can shoot a gun, but it’s safer to give her a bo staff (even if she asks for a glaive). Rook also has night vision and is pretty good with technology.

Personality
There isn’t a book in the world that she couldn’t conquer, nor are there any facts she abstains from learning. Rook will do nearly everything she can to learn what she wants, even after she’s heard the word “no.” Her headstrong personality is no match for her sarcastic comments. Not many would call her charming, but no one can call her stupid. Rook takes pride in her ability to consume vast amounts of knowledge in a short period of time, her self-defense tactics and her mediocre offensive maneuvers. If it were a battle of the wits, not many could stand against her.

Most would take one look at her and assume she was a tacky rogue or had a death wish with her quick tongue. Rook doesn’t look the part of a brainiac, nor does she always act the part. Rook is smart, she knows it, but she is well socialized and a little brash. Don’t expect her to correct your speech or to abstain from using words like “ain’t” or “ya’ll.” She’s friendly enough and won’t hesitate to strike up a conversation if she feels like it, but she may skip out mid-sentence to jot something down. Sometimes she can get a little lost in herself, refusing to leave her room or even eat, but that’s because her brain won’t turn off. She doesn’t believe in overthinking, just not the right kind of thinking. Though she’s not easily angered she is easily irritable, especially when stumped, not that it happens often, or so she says.

History
Rook was born on Mysolk, a poor planet known for workers desperate to accept any job, even high-risk ones. People from this community get to know one another quite well, but help isn’t often extended, and people are never asked about once they leave. Rook was orphaned at a young age and grew up on the streets. She was taken in by older orphans and they taught her how to steal, rudimentary self-defense tactics, and to watch for consistent behaviour from shop keepers (which make stealing from them easier).

Rook’s curiosity often led her to places she shouldn’t go, like to the single mansion on the island, which was owned by the one man who had money. After narrowly escaping, she stopped visiting his home as often. As a child, she discovered a man with something she’d never seen before, a book. Her curiosity was insatiably piqued by this development and she had to know what was on those pages. Soon Rook was regularly sneaking into Horten’s house to see the books even though she couldn’t read them. It wasn’t long before Rook was caught, and he took pity on the girl and taught her to read.

After learning to read she spent more and more time searching for other ways to expand her knowledge. She would sneak onto temporarily docked vessels to see if they possessed anything she could learn. The more she learned the more she wanted to know. Soon she started to use her knowledge during conversations with others. It wasn’t long before Waxion Industry workers came to the planet. She hopped aboard and started working for them. They possessed so much knowledge and information. The chance to travel and learn about cultures, languages, and everything in-between gave her life purpose.

Likes
Books
Learning
Sarcasm
Jokes
Pranks
Languages
Cultures
Occasional brawls
Talking
Making her own rules
New books

Dislikes
Dancing
Singing
Sometimes music
People who think they’re smart
Buzzkill rules
Being told “no”
Overly touchy feely emotions
Having to break to eat

Extra
She'd never admit that she likes the colour pink
No theme song, but she does love this poem: The Dragon of Grindly Grun, by Shel Silverstein

 

[PixelSymphony]

~(Sr.) Val'sharra Nightshroud~

Role: Stowaway
Age: 28??
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Demi-sexual

Appearance: Standing 5' 7", Val'sharra is lithe and alluring, radiating charm and confidence with every step she takes. Her crimson eyes and stark white hair ensure when she is the center of attention whenever she wants to be, and her motions are smooth and graceful. And yet, there is a fire in those eyes, and an athleticism in her movements, hinting at her readiness to act in a moment's notice.

Race: Felstari - A demonic-looking humanoid race originating from the planet Hymnalia, the Felstari have something of a bad reputation in the universe as a whole, quite possibly due to the natural tendency of most races to be disinclined from favorably dealing with a cohort of beings who look straight out of the less favorable pages of their religious texts. While any ill-will a Felstari harbors towards his or her peers is far more likely to have been influenced by fate and circumstance than by anything in their bloodline, there is no denying that constantly being given the side-eye does little towards promoting a desire to be charitable in return, thus unfortunately promoting a self-fulfilling stereotype. Still, their money is as good as any, even if the question of where and how it was obtained will forever be on the mind of the recipient of such exchanges. Perhaps it is because of this that the more notable Felstari have often found themselves as ace merchants and business mavens, as the magnitude of will and charisma necessary to overcome a populace's preconceptions naturally lends itself towards seeking out such roles.

This "exceptionalism" is actually an interesting trait of the Felstari which believe it or not is actually affected by their bloodlines; different "lineages" of Felstari will share higher than usual abilities in certain aspects of their being. Some examples of this are individuals demonstrating higher than normal capabilities in either strength and endurance, speed and precision, knowledge and insight, or, as stated above, interpersonal skills and leadership. The cause for this is still uncertain, but the phenomenon has been well documented over the past few years.

The Felstari have a few other notable physical features. Their skin tones, in addition to the usual organic tones, can range from firey reds to pale whites, and they are graced with the presence of various styles of horns and whiplike tails generally ending in barbs. Additionally they possess set of wings upon their backs, which, albeit insufficient to provide lift, can be snapped open to facilitate mid-air gliding or simply slow one's fall. And finally, they seem to possess an inherent ability to affect light and sound in their surrounding area, yet again unfortunately furthering superstitions that Felstari are harbingers of misfortune.

Aside from those differences their physiology is otherwise humanoid, raising more than a few uncomfortable questions as to whether they are a true species or something else. This suspicion more than doubles when they are considered alongside the other race found on Hymnalia, the angel-like Serastra, with whom they share much of the same "humanoid but not quite" generalities. Several theories have arisen as to both species' origins, ranging from concepts such as a being sub-populations of humans that were formed by the powers that be to come to resemble themselves, to simply just being an early genetic off-shoots in the primordial days of evolution that just happened to look like the opposing forces of grand cataclysmic mythology. Unfortunately little evidence which is not entirely questionable church dogma exists for ANY theory, so it is unknown whether the Felstari OR the Serastra will truly ever have a heritage to call their own.

Skills:

Combat (CQB, swordsmanship, marksmanship, weak points, dynamic movement) - Val is either slow and silent in take-down mode, or fast and furious on engagement. She is not a fan of battles of attrition, and has no problem disappearing from the midst of combat only to strike from another angle or simply run should the situation demand it.

Infiltration (stealth, barrier penetration, sabotage) - No system of security cameras, lasers, and guards is enough to find Val when she stalks her way into a location, and no door, wall, ventilation shaft, or subterranean tunnel system is enough to keep her from getting out.

Social (diplomacy, interrogation, investigation, analysis) - Sometimes the best way of finding out information is simply just to ask people who might know. Alcohol tends to help a lot with this.

Technical (vehicles, communications, biochemistry, computers and electronics) - A variety of ancillary knowledge to help her in her various tasks.

Arcane (light, sound) - These are thanks to her Felstari physiology; she can control light and sound, both muting and intensifying them within a close sphere around herself.

Knowledge (religion, history, philosophy, music) - To no surprise her academic interests mainly center around the topics she was focused on in her Citadel days.

Profession (bartending) - Sometimes the best way of finding out information is simply just being near people who might know. Again, alcohol helps with this.

Performance (Singing) - She is generally too embarrassed to show off her talents, but several years of choral exercise will give you pretty good pipes.

Personality: At first introduction Val is surprisingly warm and friendly, her words seasoned with a touch of mischievousness and a surprising amount of equivocation and double entendres for someone raised in the church. Always confident in her abilities, and always delightful amused at the antics of those around her, she seems to be the archetypal people-pleaser. But away from the public eye when she thinks no one is watching her, this persona fades away revealing a girl both worried about what fate has in mind for her future and haunted by the specters of her past. In an effort to cope, she turns to alcoholic drinks, jazz music, and philosophical literature, and can often be found staring out a window pondering about the nature of existence in the infinite cosmos.

History: Like many who take up religious service, Val grew up a ward of the church: an orphan of unknown lineage in the care of the Septerran Sisters of Mercy of Alma. A small agrarian village scarcely more than fifteen buildings large, Alma was a sleepy little town where not much happened, but folks were always willing to listen and lend a hand when someone was in need. It was here in this humble, nurturing environment where Val gained her devotion to the faith, in every day seeing the kindness and caring of the Sisters of Mercy as well as the surrounding townsfolk, and as she became of age, much to the sisters' joy she voiced her desires to join the Holy Orders of the Septerran Church, setting off to the capital city of Proteria to begin her training at the Holy Citadel of the Creator (Galicia branch).

Her time at the Citadel tested her true devotion, with strict tutelage combined with rigorous training. Through it all she clung to her inner drive and persevered through every trial, eventually earning the title of "Sister" and the right to call herself a member of holy orders. Barely through her graduation, she began her service immediately within the walls of the Citadel, prepared to serve the will of the Creator without a second's delay. At first she served with righteousness and devotion... but as time passed, things changed. She gradually grew distrustful of the very institution she believed in and suddenly deserted it all together one shadowy night, offering nothing but crumbs of information to back such a decision, almost as if a single word to the wrong person could spell her doom. Since then, Val is hesitant to speak of the details of her former occupation, and despite her clear continuing devotion to her cause, her relationship with the exact tenets of her faith can best be described as... strained.


Likes:
Reading
Singing
Conversation
Alcohol
Getting to know people
Cleanly executed missions
Talking about the Creator
Neat new gadgets
Alcohol after missions
Warm baths
Finely balanced weapons
Flirting
Finishing the night with a nightcap before she goes to bed

Dislikes:
Curmudgeonly folks
Heavy equipment
Confinement
Reactor leaks
Corruption
People in positions of power
Cold food
Finely balanced weapons aimed at her
People who take her flirting too far
Not getting to sleep

Extra:

Spoiler: Theme

 

[Semblance]

ARLO DUMRAI

BASICS

NAME - Arlo Dumrai
ROLE - Chef
AGE - 27
GENDER - Male
SEXUALITY - Heterosexual
RACE - Slon, the Elephant Warriors. 1 - 2 - 3

PERSONA

SKILLS
- Arlo specializes in cooking any and all vegetarian dishes. He has spent the majority of his life studying all the different types of vegetables, fruits, grains, nuts, and dairy products that grow on the various planets. (He despises cooking meat and tries to avoid it all costs, as he finds touching another creature's innards revolting and disgusting.) He is also skilled in baking delicious desserts, including cakes, cookies, souffle, tiramasu, creme brulee, scones, etc.
- He is a great problem-solver and able to think quickly on his feet. Working in kitchens generally means that when important machines or equipment break down and a customer is yelling impatiently at your face, you need to be able to solve the task at hand efficiently and tactfully.
- Due to the significant amount of time he spent studying other planet's cuisines, Arlo is very knowledgeable about other races, planets, and cultures. This includes history, religion, and anthropology.
- He is very emotionally intelligent and a skilled communicator. Arlo is able to discern how others are feeling based on their tone and body language, and can easy the tension in a room. All his time spent working in kitchens meant that he had to master communicating effectively with his kitchen team in a fast-paced environment and learn how to settle any arguments that may arise.

LIKES
Chocolate, dessert, reading about history, listening to people's life stories and experiences on other planets, good conversation, dinner parties, chemistry

DISLIKES
Meat, violence, when people don't like his food, when he can't find a certain ingredient, silent dinners, awkward conversations

PERSONALITY
- Curious: When it comes to new ideas, Arlo wants to go out and experience novel things, not hesitating to step out of his comfort zone to do so. Imaginative and open-minded, he sees everything as part of a big, mysterious puzzle called life.
- Observant: Arlo believes that there are no irrelevant actions, that every shift in sentiment, every move and every idea is part of something bigger. To satisfy his curiosity, he tries to notice all of these things and to never miss a moment.
- Passionate: As he observes the world around him, forming new connections and ideas, he grows excited about new findings, and shares them with anyone who will listen. His infectious enthusiasm also means that he loves hearing new opinions and ideas from the person he is conversing with and fitting them into his existing beliefs.
- Friendly: Arlo's empathetic disposition means that he is approachable and cooperative. He tends to get along with the majority of people he meets and his circle of friends stretches across the galaxy.
- Overthinker: Arlo does not take things at face value – he looks for underlying motives in even the simplest things. It’s not uncommon for him to lose a bit of sleep asking himself why someone did what they did, what it might mean, and what to do about it.
- Gets Stressed Easily: He is easily overwhelmed if he has too many tasks to do or emotional needs to fill from other people. Easily burnt out, he cannot take much stress at once without breaking down. Particularly when under stress, criticism or conflict, Arlo can experience emotional bursts that are counter-productive at best.
- Impractical: When it comes to conceiving ideas and starting projects, Arlo has exceptional talent. Unfortunately, his skill with upkeep, administration, and follow-through on those projects is lacking. Without more hands-on people to help push day-to-day things along, his ideas are likely to remain just that – ideas.

HISTORY

Background
Arlo was born and raised among the Slon tribes, a race of ferocious elephant warriors, on the small planet of Slon. The average Slon stands to about 8 ft tall with long, sharp tusks, walking on two feet and shaking the ground with each heavy step. Burly and muscular, their gray thick skin protects their entire body. They wield sharp weapons, such as spears, axes, and swords, with their apposable thumbs and don heavy, protective armor.

Constantly at war with each other, the Slon tribes each have their own territory that they defend to the death. Even if a single toe treads across another tribe's borders, an all-out border skirmish can erupt. They have the same intelligence capabilities as a human and their technological capacity is similar to that of the industrial age (~1800's). There is a limited supply of guns, ammunition, and gunpowder, so any tribe who possesses these supplies are viewed as a big threat.

Growing up in an environment filled with violence and aggression, Arlo was opposed to all of the warring at a young age. Additionally, he only grew to be 6 ft tall, much shorter than the average Slon, and carries a much thinner, weaker frame than the rest of his tribe. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he was treated like a nuisance, a useless waste who had no business fighting or defending his tribe. All 3 of his brothers and sisters became powerful, fearsome warriors that his parents were extremely proud of.

Although Arlo was neglected, this gave him a lot of free time to pursue his own hobbies such as cooking and reading. He began experimenting with different vegetables, fruits, grains, and sauces to create delicious meals for himself. The rest of his tribe ate a protein-heavy diet filled with meat, which was something Arlo was disgusted by. He hated the taste of meat and the thought of having another animal's innards inside him was revolting.

As his love for cooking grew, so did his curiosity for what else was out there. He began frequenting this tribe's dusty and tattered book collection, as no one took the time or effort to take care of them. He read all about other planets, cultures, races, and most importantly, all the different foods they ate. As he got older, Arlo dreamed of leaving his tribe, somewhere he so obviously didn't belong, and finding a place of his own.

The next time a weapons supplier ship (knowing how much these elephants like their guns) landed on their planet's docks, he packed up all his belongings into a single backpack and stowed away in their ship. When the merchants finally discovered the stowaway elephant on board, Arlo convinced them to let him stay by winning them over with a delicious meal he cooked. He worked in the kitchen of their ship with a couple other chefs and traveled with them across the galaxy. Every time they landed on a new planet, Arlo loved to explore the different ingredients and produce that each place had to offer.

While passing through a central transportation hub, he noticed the Waxion Industries Incorporated advertisement for a chef job. Arlo decided it was time for a change and applied for the position. When he was accepted, he bid his friends farewell and prepared for the next adventure.

Extras
- Arlo is terrible at combat in general, including both self-defense and offensive attacks.
- His main coping mechanism when he is very stressed is baking a lot of desserts.
- His favorite song to cook to is Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

 

[Sylvio]

• 01
• 02
• 03
• 04

• Name: Danny "Doc" Calihan
  Role: Doctor
  Age: 35 years old
  Gender: Cismale
  Orientation: Asexual Biromantic
  Appearance: Standing at 5'8 and weighing 190 lbs, He isn't as huge and built like most space cowboys, yet despite this build is capable of athletics and has the speed to prove it. His skin is fair and his hair is that of a bright auburn.
  Race: Human
  Skills: Where most people know how to kill, Danny focused his skills on how to heal. Wasting his 20's on med-school getting top honors whenever he could Danny became one of the best general surgeons to graduate from his school. That being said he is highly skilled in natural sciences as well as the anatomy and physiology of some of the more populated races known in the galaxy, on top of some physician training that came with being a surgeon. Having to consume such knowledge and having the patience to do so is a skill many wish to posses and Danny is a master at absorbing information. He also has great dexterity which is essential for someone of his profession, plus he's also good at using firearms thanks to his time as a Naval Medic.
  

  
  
• Personality: Many would call Danny a cynical person who doesn't have a positive outlook on galactic affairs. He like to quip as a mechanism of illusion just to remind him that everything he does isn't supporting the hellish universe he lives in, but he still cares for people as someone who took the hippocratic oath and makes it his mission to heal people. He deeply cares for beings with sentience and hates those who would make life hell for others, hating power trips and people who use their privilege and position of power to step on others.
  
  Likes:
  + Stargazing
  + Mixing drinks
  + Eating
  + Kids
  + Money
  + Warm beds
  
  Dislikes:
  - Pushovers
  - Mostly any interplanetary government
  - Corporate monopolies
  - Bigots
  - Narcissists
  - Bad fast food
  
• History: Danny was born on Ethera, the capital world of a small fascist human/humanoid dominant empire who seceded from the fringes of United Galactic Assembly space. The Etherian Empire as it was called was heavily expansionist looking to outdo the already established powers of the UGA. Their conquest was swift and brutal as they utilized their power to control worlds rich in natural resources to feed their need for conquest. To this day they still remain a minuscule threat to the dominance of the UGA, but remain a threat to those outside of their influence.
  
  Danny was born to a rich human family on Ethera who earned their money from a lottery on their original homeworld of Faretta, a predominantly human colony world. In order to skip out on local, and colonial taxes, Danny's parents moved to Ethera a few years after their secession. Due to their wealth and for being human, they were granted various tax exempt privileges and Danny would be born a very privileged kid. He grew up spoiled with the greatest things in life, his parents demanding thanks from him for giving him a life of luxury. Danny didn't understand but felt his parents knew what was best for him at the time so went with what they said.
  
  Danny went to school with some of the most famous and richest people in the Empire. Children of politicians, military heroes, and aristocrats. There were few people like Danny, people who didn't fit in the Etherian hierarchy but still had the wealth to grant him an education. But he was labeled the black sheep at his school for not being invested into Etherian dominance like his classmates were. He was called a lot of slurs for not showing the same out of dedication and love for the Empire like a true patriot. But why would he? When he told his parents about the behavior of his classmates, they panicked and didn't want to be seen as dirty UGA outsiders who didn't show love to the Empire that granted them freedom. Danny still didn't understand why his parents forced him to study Etherian culture, history, and politics. He was a straight A student and showed intellectual prowess, but no one cared.
  
  In his teens, Danny started to understand why his parents egged him to integrate Ethera into his life. Ethera wanted control over its people, so showing unwavering patriotism toward this defunct state was necessary to be considered a sentient being. But Danny wouldn't bend the knee, he wasn't going to change for anyone. But when he finally finished secondary education with high honors, Danny wanted to go to university and then medical school but his parents denied to pay his tuition unless he enlisted in the military. Knowing it would he hard for him to go to school AND have to work at the same time while being an outsider, it was difficult. If he gave his life to Ethera it was the quickest path for him to be a doctor. So he begrudgingly accepted and enlisted as a Navy Medic.
  
  Danny had taken part in multiple conflicts as Ethera expanded and defended its colonial holdings, seeing the horrors of war. Seeing a lot of sentient beings as young as him who didn't have the same privileges as he did suffer as they died for an Empire that didn't care for them, their service masked by undying loyalty and love of their nation. He left the military 3 years later to get his undergrad in biology which took him 3 years, medical school taking him another 4 years, and another 4 years to complete his residency as a surgeon. When he finally became a certified doctor, he took a portion of his parents inheritance and left Ethera back to UGA space and worked as a freelance doctor working in multiple hospitals and clinics in disenfranchised and frontier locations.
  
• Extra:
  - Has a huge sweet tooth.
  - Will outdrink you.
  - Says his hands are his defining feature.
  - Will brush your hair.
  - Has no problem killing someone he hates.
  - Will throw hands if you threaten him.
  - "There are no prescriptions for dumb bitch syndrome, sorry."
  - Squirts water at you "No Horny."
  - "I'm too old for this."
  - Wears visor glasses cause they're funny.
  - Will stare at a Nebula for hours.
  - "Can we land somewhere where we can see polar lights?"
  - Amateur architecture critic
  - "It's ok I'll order for everyone."
  
  Theme:
  

BASICS

PERSON

BIO

EXTRA

..

code by RI.a

 

[Lazaro1505]

Abelgard Müller

“Glory to Stotakraz”​

Role: First Mate

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Race: Human (He may be a more normal individual to the galaxy, but he often put his effort into his work and won’t back down from a challenge. He comes from a little bit less than advance world of ‘Aldon HW-1’, which is slightly behind in terms of tech but it’s getting up to that level.)

Appearance: Standing at the height of 5’10”, this police officer who retired early in his life, he stands at full attention and state of seriousness, even in his sleep, and rarely changes his face at all. He has cleanly cut lower face with a dark brown mustache that is well maintained, as well as dark brown hair that is rather short yet seemed to be smooth and rather shiny, must be the gel he uses for his head. His eyes are a shade of brown, being that of Hazel, and seemed to be rather neutral most of the time. While most of his body is hidden underneath his baggy clothing, he seems to be a rather athletic individual, and have some signs of muscles on his body but rather low amount.

Skills: While being both a human and police officer may make others think of him as a low threat, he has his fair share of situations and managed to pull through them. His most noticeable being his skill with his weapons, the most common being a stun pistol to use at longer ranges with its electrifying bolts of electricity and a extended electric baton, useful in close combat situations. He sees those two as a sort of another arm for him, knowing their limits and how to use them in a situation when needed. Another skill is calming down situations with negotiation, usually finding more peaceful ways to solve something, its what a police officer does. Another skill is his seemingly calm fortitude no matter the situation, remains stalwart and unmoving even when face to face with a large beast (to which its him knowing how to keep his emotions checked for the most part and instead hidden within his very person.) He also has some skill with detective work, having to explore crime scenes from time to time on his home planet, and while he can’t get all the evidence in the world, he knows how to spot if something was out of place or disturbed during the time.

Personality:
DICTIONARY

By the book
phrase of book

1. strictly according to the rules.

That is correct, Abelgard is an individual who is known for trying his hardest with going by exactly the rules given to him by not only the captain, but enforcing those rules and expecting others to do the same. If following the rules had so many people survive by going with a guide, then expect him to follow the rules, and unless they seem not only suspicious but downright tampered with, he would try to follow it to his best... after all, it what helped him survive back on his home planet, and considering his experience as a police officer, expect him to recite some rules if any of them gets broken on the ship. At an outside point of view, most would see him as a chief of security hellbent on destroying any sort of fun if it proves some risk to the crew and showing mostly the emotion of being a neutral and unmoving individual, one that doesn’t seemed bothered by things most of the time and react accordingly to that situation is something that is true. He says what needs to be said, and reacts properly if it’s applicable, especially more so in the eyes of superiors, as if he doesn’t want to be seen slacking off in their eyes and works with twice more effort to do so, and of course, this mostly ends with him being a rather tired individual, so expect him drinking coffee every once in a while on the ship.

Underneath this unmoving and stalwart facade is a extremely nervous and frightful individual, being scared of the littlest of things such as a crew member telling him of a coffee stain on his pants. He would give them thanks for pointing it on the outside, but on the inside, feels ashamed of himself for being seen in such ‘dirty’ clothing that he had to be told he had a stain on his clothing and not notice until pointed out. It’s due to both his training, and his fear of being seen as ‘weak’ in the view of his crew mates, especially captain that keeps him in check and take on situations head on, doing it best by keeping a neutral look at all times and being seen as ‘unfazed’ by most things and releasing all his stress by either drinking coffee, receiving compliments from others, and exercising in his own room, which often than not, the latter makes him even more tired. But he is a loyal individual, and cherishes the friends who manage to befriend a ‘nervous wreck’ such as him, and would definitely never leave their side especially at the face of death, after all, what is worse, failing at your job and running away or dying.... he rather goes with the latter. The only thing that really scares him and shows up on his exterior... is spiders.... pretty common fear. If only the Stotakraz government could see him now... exploring the vastness of space and installing discipline (or trying to) to his crew.... but he is still ashamed of what he had done, and doesn’t feel like he deserves to return to his home planet.​

History: The planet Aldon HW-1... what many considered to be the beginning of the Stotakraz government that had emerged and inhabited their entire solar system from the largest gas giant to the smallest mining moon... they had done what was considered impossible to their people... until they were hit in the head with reality when being visited by a much more advance race. But more about the civilization under the control of Stotakraz, a communist nation that after generations worth of conflict with other nations, had turned into a government that now controlled the entire world, and with that, the lives of the people with strict rules and extreme punishments for defying these rules, and acting as a sort of wall that limits the freedom of its citizens. Many resistances and rebellions have risen, but all were eventually crushed underneath the iron boot of the government... and it did not stop there, they had spread onto the other planets within their solar system and conquered them as well. There are seven planets in the solar system, three rock based planets, three gas planets, one dwarf-planet, and two of them inhabitant by alien life. The first planet they conquered was another planet in the same orbit as the home world, ‘Chiakole 63’, to which they spared no mercy to the more primitive life in the planet and nearly caused a world wide extinction for life in that planet. And later, all planets were under their control, and it seemed like they were the only things in the universe other than the primitive life forms on the other planet... until they were hit with reality by outside peaceful forces, that they had no choice but to be cooperative with or risk losing all their hard work to make such a grand nation.

Starting Abel’s story, he was born in the small city ‘Kirsn’ that is rather small than the average city, and had less opportunity than the capital of the entire planet ‘Grestin’, what many consider the city of opportunity. At a young age, he was trained to become another force of the police work and become yet another body in the collected whole of the nation. But he was afraid, a fear was installed into him of what might happen if he failed his job, and wondered if the bad things such as being jailed or even worse had made him become a serious individual later in his life. He had became what others had expected of him to be... becoming a Police Officer at the age of 19 and working in the police force for 10 years, not much occurring during his life, but nearing his 29th birthday, he had gotten into a bad situation in his eyes, but is considered something else to the eyes of the public. It was that faithful night that he managed to take down one of the largest crime bosses on the planet, during a shootout, and non-lethally, and it happened due to him confused about his orders and instead went to the wrong location, to which he ‘unfortunately’ found what he thought was a random old thug and tasted him before his eyes could register the man.

From there, is what he considers his great ‘shame’, being rewarded for his takedown of the man and being called a ‘hero’, but felt like he didn’t deserved it due to him not following a ‘order’ properly and taking down the criminal that way... it felt like he went against his entire being and that the government knew about this, planning to jail him any moment sooner or later. It was then... he made his choice of leaving his home planet, wanting to join the people of the stars above, getting into a space shuttle and leaving his planet behind, thinking of where to go from there. While he was leaving his family and life behind.... some of ‘Stotakraz’ came with him, and from there, he became a new yet familiar individual to not only himself, but to the galaxy as well.

Likes:
- Coffee

- Following the rules

- Compliments

- His stun gun and extendable baton

- Detective work

- Impressing his superiors

- Exercise

- Non-lethal takedowns

- Wearing his Police Officer outfit

- Looking serious

- conversations about Stotakraz

Dislikes:

- Going through a day without coffee or running out of it

- Being made aware of any kind of mistake he makes on his part

- Stressful situations

- Rule breakers

- Long boring days with little action

- Being held accountable for something he didn’t do

- Secrets

- Anyone knowing his true nature

- Spiders

- conversations about Chiakole

Extra:
- He does not have the symbols such as the word ‘police’ on his chest as well as the badge in his hat, considering it was removed to not confuse him with a police officer and getting charged for imitating a police officer.

Theme:

Spoiler: Music

​

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Full Name: knight Oralious
Role: the muscle
Age: 258
Gender: N/A
Sexuality: N/A
Appearance:
he stands at around 10 feet tall
Race: Neten

Spoiler: neten

(old lore en stuff I'm compling more to come )

• Name: Neten
• Appearance: being made of crystalline substance, the body of a neten is incredibly fragile forcing them to wear heavy and dense suits of power.
• Abilities: the only special ability the species in an incompatibility with most psionic powers, unless it is a rare resonator that acts inversely to such an effect. however, due to their crystalline and inorganic makeup, they can easily interface with computer systems or be used to make highly advanced AI. Luckly for netens if shattered they can be regrow if put in saltly or mineral rich water
• other lore: To say netens have a biology would be untrue as they are the that is entirely inorganic being composed total of a fragile crystal, functioning much like a naturally forming sort of AI/android. Netens all wear incredibly strong Power Armor to protect there fragile forms, alongside that most netens carry around a 100cal gravram auto cannon these weapon seem to serve an almost religious purpose in how they carry and maintain them,
  
  Netens have a odd way of looking at tech, they seem to have never developed energy weapon or shield, instead relying solely on heavy armor plating and ballistic weapon with amazing AP value, in fact neten plating is considered the strongest in the galaxy, its durability easily outclassing its designation by galactic standard by three times, this strength more them make up for there lack of shielding.

History:
The history of the netens is one of great hardships that heavily shaped there civilisation, the harsh forboning conditions of neter consisted of thousand of mineral rich hot springs where creatures grew from, for thousand of years the fragile but intelligent netens fought one another for control of these birthing pools building might fortress to protect themselves until armor was invented so great was this advancement that it became there main focus and how to crack it, better armor and better weapons develop in a constant arms race of warring tribes the only reason these fortress United against a common threat a alien threat called the scarlet dawn the shielded red ships armed with energy weapons though the invaders where beat back it left a great scar on the netens collective psychology leaving them distrusting of shield technology to the point some become violent in its presence. Thousands of years later for unknown reason the netens left there home world aboard a fleet of planet sized ships where or how they made them no one but the shard-lord’s truly know the answer.

Religion/Gods:
While not following any religion The maintenance of ones power armor and weapon is of the utter most importance outside observers would see this as a religious practice in how it's conducted

Primary Language(s):
Neteroc: due to the extreme complex and subtle tones no matter what translator is used a lot of the more nuances of speech are lost in translation leading them to sound blunt and rude. Neteroc lacks words for certain things as the need to develop such. Some notable examples are the usage of masculine pronouns to describe there relationship and themselves while in truth the neteroc words simply translate closest too it as netens do not reproduce like organic they lack any word to differentiate a female from a male.
Another notable example is that netens only have a single word to describe other alien life forms resulting in it always translating to the name of the native species using the translator

Skills:
Psionic amplifier: unlike most netens Oralious is compatible with psionic however he can not use it any psionic targets at him are amplified and boosted before being "spat" out of him he has a small amount of ability to manipulate the direction of such ejections.

heavy weapons expert: being clad in heavy power armor and carrying an autocannon all his life Oralious is very adept at using and maintaining them despite the complex and odd rituals involved.

Personality: for a neten... Oralious is a reserved and caring fellow beliving much like other neten's that he speaks with the spirits of the lost and dead.. as the concept of psionic is a foreign and alien thing to crystalline species. while he will attempt to make friendly conversation it can often come out as rather blunt and to the point lacking subtle and subtext for brutal honesty on the subject at hand, to the point where one might what him Just to shut up
History: there isn’t all too much to say about Oralious at least he won’t say, the neten is a rare resonator and this has resulted in him getting the rank of knight what this means is just as mysterious as why he’s on this adventure roughly translated form the neten language its a “Quest to discover self” but the true meaning is lost in complexity and translation.
Likes: heavy wepons
spa days
Dislikes: TBA
Extra: oralious armour comes with inbuilt gravity manipulators letting him pull of something akin to telekinesis along side this each of his arms had 100 engineering tendrils small long mechanical tentecles with micro tools at the end to allow to fine motor functions when dealing with maintenance

 

[jigglesworth]

Full Name: Vasily Ivan Grischuk

Role: Mechanic

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Race:

Spoiler: Human-Vimbian

Vimbians are an alien race from the planet of Na'achi, a water planet in a fairly isolated system by the same name, in the third quadrant along the Krishi Star Belt. 80% water, and smaller than average, the planet's surface is spotted with large islands and archipelagos, with only a single large continent to speak of. Intelligent life is suspected to have first sprung in the Bai Islands, a large archipelago sparse in natural resources. These islands have since become internationally protected, where civilization is forbidden from touching. Only the occasional cruise passes by on a tour.

They are a humanoid species, with stature again similar to humans, with great variety. Vimbians, while not amphibious, are much better suited to the water than many other species. Vimbian skin contains a chemical similar to melanin, but the hue much bluer, owed to their particular ancestry with the ocean. It aids them in hiding under water, unless you happen to sport basic detection tech. Their skin is covered in thin scales, though this feature mainly exists for the Vimbian cultures on the coastlines. The scales are tough, and aid with hydrodynamics. Many Vimbians have scales that can splay when alarmed, some can even do it on command. Their lungs are completely compressible, allowing them to operate at greater depths without worrying about pressure. With large lungs supplying the body with an adequate amount of air, they can last much longer than most underwater. Their eyes have reactive lenses, meaning the lenses of their eyes change shape based on whether they are in or out of water to adjust for the different light refraction. Goggles are still advisable, though, to protect the eyes from damages. Though their feet are more webbed than most, the advantage it gives isn't that large. Their great mobility in water is owed to instinct, experience, and hydrodynamic scales. The latter most of which depends on if they strip down, of course, but most aren't shy in doing so.

The Vimbians are a tough people, a proud people, headstrong and adaptive. Vimbian culture is fairly diverse, but nearly all can agree that water is a very important part of their lives. Many worship the ocean, what it represents, others choose to simply appreciate it and what it does. A few truly dislike it. The ocean. Yes, people will be contrarians about everything. They officially reached the age of interstellar travel around the same time the humans did. Nowadays, the Republic of Na'achi governs the Vimbians, spread across multiple star systems already. Not so much a major player in the galaxy, but certainly not one to be discounted.

Appearance: Standing at a clean 5'9, any taller and he'd be described as lanky. As the portrait suggests, his face is lined with light cybernetics, (his eyes glowing a neon blue rather than the orange depicted) matching his right arm, which is robotic from the elbow down, his sleeve usually rolled up to show it. The left side of his neck is tatted with his blood type, "Б+", B-positive. He also inherits many Vimbian traits from his mother, such as: webbed toes, cetacean lungs, and mostly smooth scales along his body. There are patches of synthetic skin, especially on his face, surgically implanted after his injuries on Ahhron. Everything else is quite human, including his skin complexion, coming from his Russian father.

Skills: A true whiz with a wrench, Vasily is one of the best mechanics in the galaxy, according to Vasily. His knowledge of mechanical engineering ranges from simple machines to cybernetics, and to the complex avionics of star ships. His mechanical intuition will often suffice where his knowledge is lacking. At least 15 years of experience certainly makes up for a lack of formal education in his field. Having cybernetic optics certainly helps. Venturing outside mechanics, Vasily proves himself to be a fairly tough man. Much less... traditional of a fighter. He's a scrappy dog, to be sure. Used to bar fights, cheap shots, and dirty tricks, chaotic environments are where he thrives. He thinks fast and accurate. Plus, getting hit with a robotic prosthetic arm? Ouch. Where actual skill is involved, however, you'd be hard pressed to rely on him in a fight. His skills in ranged combat are similarly dicey. He can fire a gun, and he's had to many times, but never bothered to put the work into learning how to shoot. The robotic arm can give a steady hand, but he's already such an unsteady person, it doesn't do much.

Personality: It's clear to anyone who meets Vasily that he is one of ultra casual demeanor. A drunkard with a heart of vodka. No, seriously, his blood-alcohol level must be dangerously high. But that's not something that stops him from taking the occasional swig from his canteen. He's usually kind to people he likes, enjoys being playful and teasing. A great amount of apathy has turned him very blunt, however, which is often unkind. And though Vasily is kind to people he likes, he's hesitant to call anyone a friend, or place a great amount of trust in them. Similarly, he's not very good at following instructions. He can understand them fine, but he often thinks they are stupid and you are also stupid and he is going to do his own thing because he is not stupid. With varied results. His drinking can lead to a short temperament, as well, which has led him into many, many fights. Insult him badly enough and he just might throw a punch. "Badly enough," because he isn't one to shy away from a good shouting match, or just a little insult bout, where one can be found. That has also led to many fights. Aside from all that, he's not that bad to be around. Really, if he's not riled up for some reason or another, he's very laid back and nice. He'll shoot the shit with you, have a drink, chill out. Not one to show any more "serious" emotions, though. If you've made him do that, well, he must like you very much. Either that, or he's ascended to such a state of drunkenness that all of his mental issues disappear.

History:

Spoiler: History of Vasily Ivan Grischuk

There is a beautiful, lush planet in the Krishi Star Belt known as Karchigrad, a Russian-Vimbian joint colony formed at the beginning of the two species' interstellar age. There's a famous quote from the governor of Karchigrad, Vladimir Hess: "If it can grow, Karchigrad grows it." Situated a few jumps from Na'achi, Karchigrad serves as the breadbasket of the Republic. To call it an agricultural powerhouse would be an understatement, with supply lines all across the third quadrant. The Republic gives loans to companies or individuals to begin farms on the planet in return for required yields to feed the citizens of the Republic. It has a few of its own mega cities, but those primarily serve as trading hubs for the excess yields of the planet's sprawling farms, in addition to adding culture to the world. Its massive ocean and beautiful rivers serve as the lifeblood of Karchigrad, and are staunchly defended by the planetary government.

Much more important than feeding billions of lives, this planet is where Vasily Ivan Grischuk was born. His mother and father, Vohh and Artyom, worked on Company Farm #392, owned by Karchi Agriculture Inc., sprawling thousands of acres of land. The farm was a few miles out from the city of Krevtch, home to Karchi Agriculture Inc. and the Great Pizza Tower. Many hundreds of families lived on this farm, all employed by Karchi Agriculture, who is also required by law to provide adequate schooling to the children born there. One could be born on the farm, and die on the farm, without ever having left the property. Something that might sound odd to other planets, especially the more technocratic folk, but the culture on Karchigrad is an interesting one. It is often described as "overwhelmingly rural."

Although he is an only child, he was never alone. He made quick friends with the other children on the farm, as well as with one old Vimbian farmer. Kriv Atachi, or "Big Tubby" as Vasily lovingly calls him, was an old mechanic that worked on the farm. He would often bring Vasily to work with him, where he'd show him the machines he was repairing, mostly tractors and crop dusters. The engines fascinated the young boy, and Atachi's teachings aided in sparking a passion for mechanics. Every day he would go out to watch Kriv work, hold bolts for him, and listen to his stories about life on Na'achi, his time in the military, and what it was like to work on navy ships in wartime.

He cried all day when Atachi died. Natural causes, thankfully, but passed away nonetheless. Vasily's passion for machines never faded, though. With everything he makes or repairs, he inscribes a small "B.T" into one of the parts. For the man who gave him his greatest love. Even with one of his closest friends gone, the future looked so bright to young Vasily. When looking at the stars through his naive blue eyes, he saw only wonder.

All in all, his life was pretty normal. Surprise, surprise, being a mechanical prodigy on a farm among thousands of other farms doesn't shake things up that much. But it did give him a goal: leave the farm and get a formal education in mechanical engineering. His parents were ever supportive, using whatever spare money they had to buy him books and online courses, anything to advance his knowledge. Their salary wasn't the greatest, but it was more than he ever asked for.

It was after he turned 16 years old that his life got flipped, turned upside down. Karchi Agriculture wanted to test something out: automation. The plague of the working class. They wanted to see if they could cut costs by turning to automated farming instead of paying their workers wages, living costs, and schooling costs before they made an actual switch. Company Farm #392 happened to be chosen, partly because of its location near a major city. The news was not taken very well by the families of the farm. For the first time in years, Vasily's parents were completely deflated. They could barely muster up the strength to reassure Vasily. Yes, they could just move to another farm, but that wasn't the point. This was their home, their farm, the crops meant something to them. The cows, the sheep, the naago, they all meant something to these farmers. Not to mention automation of farms would be not just a loss in jobs, but an attack on the culture that has been built into Karchigrad.

Most farmers protested, wrote the government, went on strike. Vasily took... a different route. See, Karchi Agriculture was very quick to start moving the automated equipment in. But the equipment needed to receive orders somehow, and to simplify the network, they installed signal towers to transmit the instructions to the equipment. The young Russian boy, at only 16, bounded to one of these towers in the dead of night. He spent all night learning how it operates, and the next night tinkering. By the time the company was ready to test out the equipment, which just so happened to be near his house, Vasily had his plan set.

The Grischuk family stood sorrowful in their home, with the exception of Vasily, who stood defiant in the attic. Staring out the window, he watched as the equipment started up for the small-scale tests. He activated his trap, hijacking the signal tower, and started transmitting his own signal to the equipment. He's no IT expert, but he knows how to mess up radio signals, and that made everything go haywire. Tractors flipped over and ran over crops, drone crop dusters started up and smashed into barn walls, their propellers cutting through the corn stalks.

Only, his plan wasn't so perfect. Vasily only ever thought of property damage. Crop damage. He never considered that he'd be endangering people as well. His negligence took a turn for the worse. A haywire drone cut through the crops, picking up speed. The very same drone ended up smashing into the windshield of the farm manager, who had taken refuge in his car. It is difficult to survive a large hunk of metal slamming into you at high speeds. What's more is, transmit to multiple locations, and you're bound to get triangulated by whoever is on the other side. Vasily had just murdered someone, and people knew it.

He plead guilty to all charges, not wanting his parents to be implicated, not for a moment.

But he got lucky. The Republic of Na'achi was at war with the planet of Ahhron, an independent mining world that the Vimbians wanted under their wing. They used a little thing called conscription, and Vasily fit the bill. The navy needed mechanics, apparently, and there was no one better on Karchigrad.

Without even a chance to say goodbye, the navy scooped him up sent him off to basic training. He survived that hellhole by making one good friend, and his name was Nabo. A Vimbian from Na'achi, convicted of grand theft and battery with a deadly weapon when he grabbed a gold bar off his boss's desk and chucked it at his forehead. Not murder, like Vasily, but... it was nice to have someone of shaky moral standing to help him through the conscription. At the toughest time of his life, Nabo brought him some semblance of comfort. Unfortunately, Nabo was to be a pilot, so after basic they would have to part ways for a while.

Six months of basic had Vasily packaged and shipped to a Loto-Class Battle Carrier, The Yaaketochi, headed straight to war. They decided to skip formally teaching him, and instead gave him a couple manuals about the star ships and said "go repair them." His first day on the hangar floor, a dozen ships docked in need of repair, 6 of them on autopilot, carrying their dead pilots like star caskets. Watching a man get wheeled away on a stretcher with a 5-inch hole in his chest while you go to repair a 5-inch hole in a cockpit is a sight not easily burned out. Especially not for some 17 year old farm boy.

The next two years were more of the same. With every day, he was hardened by war, by the constant work, the constant noise, the constant death. He was changing, fast. No one there was really his friend. All too patriotic for him. They wanted to be there. Vasily had to be. This wasn't his fight, he's just doing his time, with no end in sight. There was only one comfort about being aboard The Yaaketochi, and it came when Nabo boarded. When his friend came back to him. The best star fighter pilot on the carrier, likely the best in the whole quadrant. A conscript, no less. Nabo and his hugs were the Russian's only hope for sanity.

The Na'achi Republic Navy broke through the Ahhron defenses and made planetfall. The Yaaketochi was too large to touch down, and was running low on fuel, so a forward operating base was set up on the ground, about 50 kilometers from the capital of Ahhron: Mitora. The hangar crew was transferred there, where the air raids would continually be operated. It was there they tattooed Vasily's blood type on him, as now his neck was actually on the line. Two months in, and the defense forces of Mitora launched their own air raid on the FOB. Na'achi pilots scrambled to their fighters as bombs dropped from overhead. The defense didn't go so well. Vasily lost his right arm, and required various other medical implants to survive the injuries without long term issues. And Nabo...

Vasily doesn't like to talk about Nabo. He still wears his dog tags. The same night he could finally get out of bed, he took his first swig of alcohol, and never stopped.

He was lucky enough to get conscripted instead of convicted, but not lucky enough to die. Neither was Vasily lucky enough to at least get medically discharged, as, after the surgeries, they decided the navy's star mechanic was still fit to serve. Vasily being a conscript, he didn't get much say in the matter. Two months recovery time and he was back on Ahhron, drinking away his troubles, putting duck tape on tanks and watching more and more sorry sods get wheeled off to their eventual demise. When he looks to the stars in the sky with his weary blue optics, he sees only the darkness between them.

Ten years on Ahhron. Five to lay siege, another five to deal with rebels. The whole time he told himself he was just a mechanic, that he wasn't at fault. He didn't have any choice. But he killed people, by his own hand. He didn't just help build weapons for the navy, when tasked to, he helped design them. Vasily tells himself his conscience is clear, but it's nothing he's ever believed.

When the war was over, Vasily, now 29, was a completely changed man. The farm boy on Karchigrad was no more. What stood in his place was a jaded, apathetic drunk, barely hanging on every night he blacks out from alcohol. On Na'achi, he went from job to job. Finding someone who gave a damn about an alcoholic vet with a wrench proved more difficult than he was hoping. He ended up getting drunk every night, drunk every day. One of his biggest expenses is alcohol at this point. Ending up in bar fights was not an uncommon occurrence for him, and he got good at them, too. Some odd jobs repairing vehicles, bots, drones, he even got an internship to work on projects for the Republic. But, before he accepted, he saw something intriguing. An ad for Waxion Industries, looking for a mechanic onboard one of their courier ships. He was about to start looking into the company, when he gazed down as his canteen. He took a swig, sent in his application without even reading the job specifications, then went to bed.

Did he forget about the internship? Did he want a new change of pace? Was he just really damn drunk? Who knows, certainly not Vasily.

But hey, let's see where this goes.

Likes:

• Drinking.
• Being drunk.
• Molchat Doma.
• Mechanics.
• Machines.
• Bears.
• Corn on the cob.
• Judging others.
• Teasing.
• Chaos.
• Alone time.

Dislikes:

• The military.
• Introspection.
• Talking about his feelings.
• Large egos.
• Taking orders.
• Loud noises.
• People telling him to drink water.
• Beef stew.
• Alone time being interrupted.
• That actor from that one movie he can't remember the name of.
• Talking about his past.
• Hugs.

Extra:

Spoiler: "They put your blood type on your neck, because if the medics can't find it, you're dead anyways! Ha!"

 

[EddieTeddie]

Full Name: Dr. Helia Falsk // Lady Sirilla Goddart
Role: Psychologist
Age: 24 (Dr. Helia is 3 years older)
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
Race: Human

Appearance:
Sirilla stands at 5 ft 2.6 in. She often makes up for this by wearing heels and walking with a straight back. As a lady, she was very fashionable, wore precious jewels everyday and had long hair. As Dr. Helia, she was forced to cut her hair short, wear no makeup and boring clothes. Not to mention the horrid glasses. The only personal touch is wearing black heels at all times. All the clothes brought along on the job are from Helia's wardrobe and consist of cheap, black clothing and tasteless accessories.

History:

Spoiler

Rubeon:
Rubeon is a planet inhabited by humans only, with no natural terrestrial life. It was one of the earlier colonies from earth, but unlike other settlements, Rubeon did not allow alien visitors. Now it is a planet of humans claiming to uphold "earth" values and traditions. Citizens eat human food, learn from human books, play human instruments and mingle with other humans.
Four main families have for as long as the planet has been inhabited, ruled it as the Rubeon Council. The Goddart family is one of them. They, along with the rest of Rubeon's elite, live in The Oasis, enjoying their wealth and luxury in the only city with a earth-like climate. The normal citizens of the planet are spread out on the vast, dry planet, working in mines and farming the rich materials that has earned the planet's wealth.

The Rubeon Council believed they deserved their spot at the top, bathing in the money earned by the worker's pain. In the end, the people had had enough and half a year ago they rebelled against the authorities that made them suffer. Rubeon is still suffering from the unrest, one of the Council families was eradicated, two are still fighting for their planet and the last, the Goddart family, has gone on the run.

Dr. Helia Falsk is a kind-hearted, intelligent psychologist, who has dedicated her life to helping others. She has for many years earned money through mercenary missions, and using it to uphold her free clinic for those who can't access proper help. Sirilla Goddart is none of these things.

Sirilla was born as the middle child of Helix Goddart, one of the four council members ruling over Rubeon. Anything she wanted, she got. It was always the best food, the best clothes, the best toys. Rich and spoiled, Sirilla was never expected to be more than the middle daughter of the family. She was never forced to study or work, only to look proper and represent the family. In the Oasis, she lived the best life, carefree and happy. She had a loving family and great friends. Eventually she met the love of her life, Kleo, and was even engaged. Everything was perfect in the little bubble that was her life. But everything changed when the fire nation attacked the revolution started. The poorly treated and underpaid civilians of the industry planet rebelled against the four families getting rich on their misfortune. For the first time there was a situation that couldn't be solved purely by money, and the Goddart family ran away. They moved from planet to planet, trying to find somewhere to be safe, but without money, none of their former allies would help them.

Somewhere along the way, Sirilla was separated from her dear Kleo. Devastated, she wished to search for her, but with a target on her family's back and nothing to call her own, she would stand no chance. It was pure luck that she passed Dr. Helia Falsk on the streets. A woman with a nearly identical face and structure to herself. With little knowledge of the world away from home and it's inhabitants, Sirilla decided that she would go out on her own and find her love.

After stalking the poor doctor for months and observing her behavior, young Sirilla took over her life and identity. It just happened that the woman had already sent in the application to W.I.I. Figuring this was her chance to start her search, Sirilla got ready for boarding the ship as Dr. Helia Falsk. After all, how hard could it be to be a psychologist? All she had to do was talk to some, probably, crazy people.




Personality:
Spoiled - It is no shock that growing up with the best of the best has rendered the young lady very spoiled and privileged. She used to believe that everything she got was what she deserved, and that those who suffered deserved to do so. After the revolution on her home planet, she has become a bit more sensible, but is still aiming to get back to her life of luxury.

Isolated/naive/snobby/picky/ignorant - Growing up spoiled and with only like minded peers, she has been isolated from the outside world. Before escaping their planet, she had barely ever seen an alien, and the belief that they are all evil still lingers despite her best efforts to give them a chance. Not being subjected to other foods and cultures than her own, she is extremely skeptical and has a limited palette.

Jumpy - Thought she is able to put on a facade when pretending to be the doctor, she is in all honesty terrified of the world she finds herself in. There are aliens, whom she has been taught are all evil. There are scary captains and unfamiliar creatures.

Curious - At her home planet, Sirilla cared little for the outside world, but now that she has embarked on this journey in space, she has found herself becoming more and more curious about everything. Her own knowledge that she knows very little, is motivating her to find her own true talent.

+ Emotional

Skills:
+ Actor - Sirilla has from a young age been a good actor. She loves being on stage and performing, not to mention her talent at properly getting into a role. She can copy a person's manner of speech, body language and even the way they walk.
+ Dance (she is very agile)
+ Good liar
+ Playing instruments (piano and violin)
- She can shoot a gun. She's neither good or bad at it, but knows how to do it.
- From years of dinner parties, she knows a lot about earth wines and champagnes

Likes:
- Classical music
- Dancing
- Acting
- Reading romantic earth books
- Fooling around with friends
- Chocolate desserts
- Soft fabrics
- Wine, champagne, etc.
- Sketching
- Flowers
- Receiving praise


Dislikes:
- Dirt/messy spaces/people
- Loud noises (explosions, etc)
- Being doubted
- Intimidating people
- People shouting
- Intimidating looking aliens
- Soup
- A lot of foods that are not of earth origin
- The color yellow on clothes
- Being yelled at
- Confrontations
- Bugs, especially flying ones
- Wearing glasses
- Blood, injuries
- Dr. Helia's sense of fashion
- Her height

There is a lot that she does not like.


Extra:
Sirilla is by far the most useless member of the crew, everything she "knows" is her pretending. At least there is a lot of potential for further learning.

What happened to the real Dr. Helia Falsk?

 

[mogy]

---
Name: Aser Ooliab
Role: Researcher
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Homosexual
---
Appearance: Aser stands at an average 5’9’’ with a pretty regular build leaning more towards the slimmer side—he is neither slim nor are his muscles entirely defined; painfully average. Green eyes and a nest of hair on his head, with somewhat defined cheekbones and a jawline to die for make Aser a pretty good looking guy which isn’t all that surprising considering his descent. As well as that, from his scalp grow flowers which represent his society’s unity with nature and the universe, and on his left wrist rests a tattoo of a number: 372. Simple colors and breathable clothes mark this man's fashion sense.
---
Race: Homo totus (omni) — Human

Spoiler: The Omni

At a first glance, the homo totus isn’t all that different from the average homo sapien it evolved from, though there is an extensive sum of things which makes these two species distinctively their own.

Often referred to as being perfect, what from their high level of intelligence, what from their flawless physical appearance, the homo totius basically are just that—the perfect humans. Genetically engineered into physical and mental flawlessness gave this species many benefits as their own civilization developed and grew with each new generation: a significant social upsurge in the whole galaxy, a carefully and complexly weaved culture driven by morality and kindness, connections with some of the most powerful species and organizations in the galaxy, and even the ability to colonize more systems which is currently taking place.

As much as they are a species of their own, they are also a very intricate society, one whose power many others might be envious of, though also one nobody has any reason to go up against which is perhaps a reason of their social success in the previous years. Neutrality and cooperation; strategy and tricks; a strong principal of what is good and what is bad, this species/race/society/colony is known worldwide as a sort of a universal ally which is a good position for one to have, but also one not very trustworthy.

Another very important thing about the Omni is the way they reproduce. Seeing how genetic manipulation is a very tiring and complex/hard thing to do for a fast-growing civilization, they have resulted in cloning created genetic material: which basically meant that every single Omni had at least a hundred if not thousands of others who had the exact same genetics as themselves. A lost individuality, but a deeper sense of belonging was shaped by this.

To differentiate citizens, every single Omni has a tattoo with a number on their left wrist of which number clone they are so there is no mix up between two identical units.

---
Skills:

• Critical thinking – Aser has no issue in assessing situations and making necessary objective judgements in accordance to them, which can prove to be very useful at times.
• Knowledge – Spending most of his life learning and trying to prove himself as a valuable member of his society, Aser has vast knowledge of many things, including, but not limited to, animal behavior, human behavior, philosophy, psychology, physics, chemistry, and history.
• Manipulation – The ability to twist information in a way so a certain situation will have a certain outcome while still telling the truth is just something Aser knows how to do, though he does it only for good.
• Fast learning - The ability to quickly retain information and understand difficult concepts after a quick explanation.
• Agility and strength – Aser doesn’t just look like he can run, he genuinely can, and compared to most human individuals, he would be considered strong. Though somewhat strong, Aser doesn’t have skills in fighting as his home world doesn’t believe in fighting.

---
Personality:

When one first meets Aser, the blonde man seems as just another Omni individual who is smart, cunning and charming. He doesn’t mind sparking up a conversation with strangers even if he doesn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye with them, but one might soon come to learn the misfortunate fact that once Aser starts talking, he won’t stop until his tongue feels sore from conversation. The people around him don’t usually consider him boring as he would much rather talk to people about a topic they are passionate about than about something he is personally passionate about because it is also a smart way to get information.

On the other side of the story, if he is bothered by something, he won’t be afraid to take his time in silence and think the situation through until he’s reached a satisfying solution. This can be a clear sign that something might be wrong in the world of Aser, and sometimes a conversation with somebody is what helps him solve the problem he encountered.

Once you get to know the man, however, he isn’t afraid to show curiosity and interest within him which basically makes him look like a child playing with a brand new toy. This is also the case about everything in space as space is something very new to him—he never got the chance to travel from his home planet and only ever saw things he learned about on pages in books and online.

While Aser might be a trusting individual who chooses to trust everybody until he is taught not to do so by getting screwed over, he isn’t a pushover, and won’t risk things he deems valuable to him or others around him.

As well as that, Aser always tries to make everything good for everybody, which might have been an easy thing to do at home, but now, in this new surrounding, with these new people who weren’t engineered to be perfect, it might be a little bit more difficult than he expects it to be…
---
History:

Spoiler: so no history?

---
Likes:

• Exploring
• Learning
• Talking
• Jokes
• Helping
• Rain
• Cold weather
• Stars
• Forests
• People
• Nature
• Puzzles
• Animals
• Music
• Hugs

Dislikes:

• Conflict
• Liars
• Lying
• Having secrets
• Being confused
• Weapons
• Bigots
• Deep water
• Dirty/Uncleaned spaces
• Being controlled

Extra: (Music, tidbits, what have you)

 

[Sylvio]

• 01
• 02
• 03
• 04

• Name: Avery Nakamura
  Role: I.T Specialist
  Age: 24 years old
  Gender: Agender (She/They)
  Orientation: Bisexual
  Appearance: With a height of 5'7 weighing 150 lbs, Avery has a few scars on their body and legs that came from being in a couple scraps over the years. Their hair is in a constant state of being disheveled with brown eyes. Their arms and back riddled with tattoos.
  Race: Human
  Skills: Tech skills was what Avery was born for. They're a savant when it comes to anything quantitative, being able to compute in less than a minute and is a stereotypical tech wiz kid who knows a lot about software and the ins and outs of it. She is also extremely familiar with data mining, machine learning, and A.I development. She's also an extremely social person, she knows how to rub people the right way and butter them up to get what she wants and really good at communicating with organic and synthetic beings alike.
  

  
  
• Personality: Avery is very focused on achieving their goals, whatever they set their mind they to they are more than willing to do what they can to achieve their goals. They don't like being bossed around but will give you satisfactory results. Avery knows when to unwind whenever they feel it necessary to do so, but when they have to work they work like a machine until they eventually power down and nap for a couple hours. If they don't get their power nap on top of an eight hour sleep they will be passive aggressive toward you. But they're a nice friend to have, they're extremely empathetic and will be there for you should you need a shoulder and is fun to take outside if you ever wanna be adventurous.
  
  Likes:
  + Sleep
  + An excuse to smoke
  + Neon colors
  + Sweet fruit
  + Loose fitting clothes
  + Your brother probably
  
  Dislikes:
  - Getting misgendered
  - Cheap drinks
  - Stubborn people
  - When you buy them a drink
  - Being forced to listen to music she hates
  - Price gouging
  
• History: Avery was Earthborn, an heiress of a corporate dynasty. They were born of half-Japanese half-Vietnamese descent. Their father was Tadayoshi Nakamura, CEO of the Asian Financial Securities Corporation, an association of trade and brokerage firms that facilitated a lot of the colonial development for humanity with their skillsets. Avery was said to inherit the company, especially with their quantitive and technical skill at a young age, they were perfect for the job. But sitting at a desk all day was something young Avery didn't want, but their father was persistent and the constant misgendering and dead naming put them over the edge. Avery's mother was no help, she was a subservient housewife and was barely involved in their offsprings's life, with no one to really call family.
  
  When they moved to university to board, they had some breathing room. It was a school with some of the most expensive room and board in the UGA and had the amenities that most resorts wished they had. But even with everything they could ask for, it wasn't a life they wanted. Even tho their father paid them room and board, food, toiletries, and clothes were out of the question. Now they did everything they could to make their own money with the skills they already possessed. Finding a tech job however was one of the worst things to find, because of Tadayoshi's influence, Avery was blacklisted from some of the biggest companies in the galaxies, and even the smaller ones who would soon be bought once they learned that Avery was working for one of them. So Avery turned to a job that paid well that they found themselves suited for, prostitution.
  
  The university they attended wasn't just the fancy resort it pretended to be. The students were known to get into trouble out of boredom or pleasure. Running an underground sex ring on campus was one of these projects. It wasn't the best job anyone could ask for, primarily due to the shitty students who were into physical abuse, some where chasers, others just felt lonely and wanted someone to talk to which they didn't mind at all. It helped to have people who also just have people who were also willing to listen. A lot of the people they talked to were dealing with similar problems. Kids with parents who had high expectations wanting them to fill their parents shoes, it was something no one wanted. So Avery dropped out of university and they would find something, anything that would take their skill set.
  
  Turned out W.I.I took their resume and so their new life would begin.
  
• Extra:
  - "I can make my own money don't try to buy me."
  - Loves fitting neon lights in their room.
  - Loves small robots.
  - "Is your partner happy with you? ... Really?"
  - The thighs of a goddess.
  - Will pet you if you're crying.
  - Will leave you at parties.
  - Super smart but super dumb at the same time.
  - "I know you like me. Everyone does"
  - Gets flustered when being called nicknames.
  - Prefers to work out alone.
  - Runs hands through hair profusely.
  - "Ew you play team sports don't you?"
  - "I am such a homosexual."
  
  Theme:
  

BASICS

PERSON

BIO

EXTRA

..

code by RI.a

 

[Skryx]

Full Name: OXI
Role: Botanist/Researcher
Age: --error. data corrupted--
Race: STEALTH DROID MARK XI, (manufactured by SAPR Corp).
Appearance: Is he a robot? A cyborg? Some weirdo in a suit? OXI stands at exactly 6 feet tall, plus another 6 inches if you include the sensors resembling 'ears' on his head, with a lean frame and a matte black finish.

Skills: OXI possesses the typical advantages that come with being a droid made for war such as strength, agility, and sensors that allow him to detect minute changes in his environment, as well as improved hearing and vision. Of course, he is also knowledgeable in robotics and general machinery. His ability to download data allows his to learn and store digital information easily and his internal mapping system makes his navigational skills exceptional. As a stealth robot he has a cloaking ability that allows him to turn near invisible depending on his environment. He is also able to compress his body to a certain degree to fit into smaller spaces. He also possesses a wealth of tactical and combat knowledge although he is currently unable to use a weapon.

Personality:
OXI is probably the worst team member you could possibly have. On the surface he seems benign, just a regular bot doing the tasks he's been assigned, if a little bit aloof at first. On the inside he's an intelligent, scheming little shit who thrives on drama. He's very observant and uses this to figure out secrets and subtly nudge people into fights, then sit back and watch the show. Although competent, he is extremely lazy and is an expert at shifting work away from him. He does enjoy a good joke though, and can be a decent conversational partner as long as you don't spill any secrets he can use against you. One of his favourite things to do is to fake a system error and pretend he doesn't understand what you're telling him.

History:

Spoiler: Spoiler

OXI was one of 1000 Mark XI stealth droids manufactured by SAPR Corp and commissioned in a batch of 70 for the government of *REDACTED*, a coalition of planets intent on expanding their galactic influence through a good ol' genocide and political assassination. The Mark XIs were a breakthrough product with their modular design allowing for easy upgrades and skill changes which allowed them to keep up with rapidly developing offensive technology while other bots were rendered obsolete. Their impressive AI (for the time period) allowed them to sharpen their tactical skills OXI carried out missions regularly for *REDACTED* years, until the subsequent fiery collapse of *REDACTED* when they lost the war against a rival galactic empire.

In the chaos, OXI was stranded on a backwater planet that had yet to achieve space travel. There he was eventually discovered and taken in by group of adolescents of the native intelligent species. Through them he experienced concepts such as affection, morality, loyalty and kindness. He also gained an extraordinary amount of sarcasm and laziness. Eventually he became... alive. His AI network expanding past the boundaries of his previous programming making him more than just a machine.

Many things have happened since those peaceful days on that planet. He struck out on his own as a mercenary (old habits die hard. And so do his targets.). One of his core memory banks was lost, leaving gaps in some of his oldest memories especially concerning his origins and the time spent stranded and learning to live. Most recently, his WAR module was damaged leaving him incapable of using any offensive weapons, unable to pull the trigger of the simplest gun. A terrible inconvenience he has been trying to work around. Interestingly enough, installing MINER and WOODCUTTER modules that he managed to obtain have worked around this somewhat, allowing his to wield axe-like equipment provided there was a resource close enough nearby to justify swinging it. However, it was not an ideal set of conditions for a mercenary as it would happen and eventually he decided to give that up. Though it was fun in the beginning, thinking of more creative ways for murder to get around his programming.

Eventually, he decided to join W.I.I. and hopefully come across the now discontinued WAR module on their travels, with plenty of others around to protect him (or at least be eaten and/or decapitated instead of him). If nothing else, it would at least be entertaining. He signed on as a botanist. It amuses him to have so much power over resources he himself does not require.

Likes:
Skipping work
Lurking
Stirring up conflict
Arts and Crafts

Dislikes:
Anyone attempting to modify/upgrade his systems
Sweat

Extra:

 

[Lord Mitmar]

– – – – – –
Full Name: Myra Lovisa Volkov
Role: Assistant Mechanic, Intern, Coffeegirl, and general Dogsbody.
Age: 19 (and a half!) Years.
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
– – – – – –
Appearance: [Art by the lovely Irene Muñoz! They do great work, go check it out! ]
Reaching just shy of average for her years at 5'3" (~160cm) and weighing in at a similarly sub-standard 117lbs (~53kg), Myra certainly won't be standing out amongst the generally towering aliens, droids, and men of the Sunshine 5's crew. Still, she's content to stay out of the spotlight—a modest attitude that her attire very clearly reflects. Caught between fashion and the greasy life of a ship rat, Myra's style swings harshly between ultra-utilitarian jumpsuits and a remarkably hipster sort of button-up 1920's chic. Industrial boots and wide-brimmed hats line either side of her wardrobe, and the silver rims of her large circular glasses do their best to soften her almost boyishly square features. She's all dark shades and muted colors, with pale skin, short hair a natural raven save for one braided clasp of bleached white, brooding black makeup, and serious icy blue eyes. That is, until the fancy velvet button-ups come out to party! Royal purples, brilliant oranges, alluring pinks, and earthy greens all make an appearance in their own bold monochrome threads, often giving the impression that the rest of her wardrobe was drained of its hues and pooled into those striking shirts. Her top incisors are a fair size or two larger than one might expect, giving her a very youthful sort of smile, and often catching her bottom lip as she speaks. She has no notable distinguishing marks, her young age leaving her skin unmarred and in excellent condition. Her posture, on the other hand, leaves something to be refined—she seems insistent on slouching and sitting at odd angles. You'll often find her seemingly having been draped over a chair, nestled at an awkward angle as she fiddles with her Kalimba or toys with a mechanical bit that probably belongs somewhere in the engine bay.
Race: Entirely, boringly, uninspiringly Human!
– – – – – –
Skills: What Lovisa lacks in specialized knowledge, she makes up for in her general competency: She may not be particularly experienced, but she's a quick learner and a willing student! Adaptable and confident, she'll never be the first one to back down from a challenge, and she will follow through with her tasks—no matter the hassle. She'll get the job done, even if she spends half of her time complaining about it. Really, her grumbling's more out of habit than actual resistance—you'd do best just to ignore it. She's decent enough with a wrench, and actually knows a reasonable bit when it comes to the simpler end of engineering. Got a light switch that needs fixing? She'll probably even manage it without breaking anything else. Need somebody to stop the ship's reactor from going nuclear? Well... She'll give it a go. What's the worst that could happen? She can, occasionally, pull off a minor miracle; and she often goes a league or two above and beyond what's actually been asked of her—she's something of an overachiever. Still, she is, at the end of the day, just a Human—and a young one at that. Her confidence often gets her in more trouble than anything else; she's quite likely the weakest of the crew and will, embarrassingly enough, struggle with more muscle-bound tasks; she's laughably inexperienced in a fair few areas and will often have to seek advice from older shipmates; and she's utterly incapable in a fight. Still, daunting odds and crisis management come naturally to her—get her up to speed on the important bits, and she might just be able to keep the ship running even if the rest of the crew's nowhere to be found. She's also unusually comfortable in the infinite void of space, having grown up surrounded by it, and is totally willing to go for a quick spacewalk when the hull needs some attention. Drifting out there's even got something of a meditative effect on her, so don't be surprised if she goes hunting for an excuse to jump out the airlock when she's upset. It's okay, she knows what she's doing. She'll be fine.
Y'know. Probably.
– – – – – –
Personality: Myra's got a quick wit, sharp tongue, and sarcastic humor to fall back on when the situation calls for it; though she tends to keep herself hidden behind a polite, even mousey shell whenever she's around new faces. Just give her a week or two to warm up! Beyond her personal charm (if you feel like calling it that), she's not a half-bad little worker bee. Driven to succeed and bold enough to go diving after even the most absurd tasks, she has no problem taking sudden orders in stride (though she'll definitely whine about it) and juggling a dozen different jobs at once—a useful skill, given her position aboard the Sunshine 5, and one that she owes mostly to her rock-solid memory. Sure, she's no infallible AI, but she's still got a hell of a track record when it comes to compensating for certain crewmembers' rampant forgetfulness. She's a relaxed, happy-go-lucky kind of gal who tends to be a whole lot less of a stickler for the rules than she might initially seem. After all, as long as the ship's still running and everyone's still alive at the end of the day, who cares how the job got done, right? She's all about common sense and flexibility, bringing simple solutions and a warm voice of reason to the table. She doesn't sweat the little things and is perfectly happy to let accidents slip—indeed, it takes a very deliberate bit of button-pushing to get a rise out of her. On the flip side, though... Once she's decided you're being excessively difficult, her fuse is about a half-second long. Her temper's pretty rare, but oh is it a sudden and beautiful thing when it flares. Oh, also, she's a hardcore vegetarian and a real puppy-loving pacifist. She'll do whatever you tell her to, but maybe don't make her pick up a gun? She'll not be best pleased, and it'll definitely end with more chaos than is strictly necessary.
– – – – – –
History: A spacer through and through, Myra was born aboard a minor research station in orbit above the enormous gas giant Negoiu. Far from grandiose and a long, long way from the more populated clusters, the girl's home was about as close to backwater nothingness as it got. Hell, the station didn't even have a real name; just a gigantic string of seemingly random characters that probably stood for something once upon a time, but which nobody even cared to commit to memory anymore. They all just called it Home. Well, alright, the cool kids called it Forty-Four, in reference to the station's absurdly long designation; but Myra was never exactly the most popular kid in orbit, and she still laughs a bit at the silly pet name—though she's since come around to using it for clarity's sake. A life filled with much in the way of repetition—and a still-budding one, at that—deserves little discussion; but, in brief, Myra spent every moment of her early life trudging through the monotonous normalcy of life aboard an outpost solely dedicated to studying—of all things—Negoiu's weather. She spent her time like every station child; helping the adults keep their home in orbit. Her favorite days were those spent trailing the crew's few mechanics as they serviced their old home, though she also enjoyed the freedom and variety born of rotating mentors every day, and her varied experience has left her in a good position to find work in nearly any space-bound field. Just don't bring up atmospheric research—that nonsense always bored her to tears.

Now, Forty-Four was (and, in all likelihood, still is) a jumbled mass of tight corridors and dreary lighting. Backward in more ways than one and outfitted with veritably ancient technology, the station left its ~200 odd crewmembers reliant on hackjob problem-solving and comically antiquated workarounds. To this day, Myra has been left with a remarkably skewed perspective on what could be called modern, reliable, or even functional; and old analog tech still brings up comfortable memories of those simple times aboard the Forty-Four. She's regularly left in a sort of quiet astonishment at the sheer polarity between the blinking buttons and beige plastics of her home and the shiny new tech of the actually modern sectors. Hell, there's, like, translucent datapads and hi-def holograms out there these days! Back on Forty-Four, you had to fiddle with DOS for an hour just to get the oxygen pumps running! Even aboard the laughingstock that is the Sunshine 5, there's a remarkable wealth of (arguably) fancy tech for Myra to paw through. Just don't let her muck about too long unsupervised—she's more curious than she is capable when it comes to recent hardware. Still, her experience with the systems of old has given her a reasonable advantage in learning the new ways. After all, understanding what a thing's based upon always makes understanding it easier—as long as you're willing to adapt to the new; and willing, she most certainly is.

The question of how an inexperienced woman—barely more than a girl, really—from a backwater station in the middle of absolutely goddamn nowhere has found herself in league with the likes of the Sunshine 5's crew is... Well, not that complicated to answer, actually: W.I.I. is always on the hunt for cheap labor, after all! When one of the company's recruitment vessels finally made its way to the Forty-Four's rickety old docking bay (which had been hilariously and horrifyingly modified to accept newer-model ships countless times) and offered the promise of a position aboard a modern vessel—all expenses paid—to anyone who'd sign the illegibly small contract the representative handed out, well, Myra didn't think twice. It wasn't that she hated her home—much to the contrary, she's still fond of it to this day, and she insists that the jolt she got from a loose wire as she clambered out of the tiny station was proof enough that the old rustbucket loved her, too—but there was no opportunity for a young firecracker aboard that heap, so, she happily stepped forth and never looked back. Now, just a few months later, she's finally received her first deployment: Serving as an assistant aboard the esteemed Sunshine 5. And you know what? She couldn't be more excited!

Only time will tell how long her bright-eyed hope lasts in the real world, but let's not worry about that.
– – – – – –
Likes: Oh, boy, here we go. Let's get this out of the way quickly: Myra's a total hipster. From ancient analog media to obscure indie nonsense, she just can't bear the thought of liking something popular. Ugh. Hell, half of her luggage is always taken up by her record collection, and I hear she's even got a few 8-tracks hidden away under her bunk. She even lugs around some of those old paper-print books. I don't get it either. Ooh, and, perhaps a little less weirdly, she's a big horror fan. She'll usually spend those fleeting days off shuttered away in her quarters with the window blacked out as she marathons her favorite spooky films. Finally, she often makes special requests of the crew's cook, as her moral concerns and ranging allergies often leave her unable to indulge in the usual ship fare. Noodles, tofu, and the oddly specific pumpkin make regular appearances in her orders, though she'd honestly be happy enough if the galley could just manage something edible once in a while. She wouldn't be surprised if that meat hash sprouted legs and wandered off one day.
Dislikes: Honestly? There's not much Myra can't vibe with. She's chill like that. Just don't be a total prick to her and you'll be fine! As mentioned above, she's solid as a rock—it takes some mighty skillful button-pushing to actually annoy her. Well, unless you start taking shots at her questionable sense of style. Sure it's a little old-fashioned, but she takes pride in her appearance, damnit! Still, unless you really get to her, she'll probably just flip ya the ol' bird and move on. Holding a grudge takes way more energy than she's usually willing to spend. Then again, she will get genuinely offended if you disparage her work too much, though she doesn't have much of a leg to stand on there. After all, her work isn't as good as that of the other crewmembers. Still, how could it be? She does, like, everything for them. I mean, she barely gets to start a task before somebody drags her away to do something else! Of course the quality's going to suffer! Please give the poor girl a break.
– – – – – –
Extra: Being a reasonably musical gal, Myra carries around and plays the Kalimba regularly, and occasionally even sings! She's no savant but, hey, live entertainment! Also, for the record, the glasses definitely are not just for show—she can't see much past a foot away without them, and she hasn't got a spare pair anymore, so, y'know, please watch your step! Oh, and she's got a hell of an accent—it's caught in an off blend between that of a sardonic British spy and an enthusiastic Scotswoman, and often varies given her emotional state. Angry? You're getting full frozen Brit. Excited? All-out Celtic! It's very dramatic, but I assure you it's wholly natural. Myra's a lot of things, but she's no fake. She's also got a few allergies to speak of, though nothing that'll do worse than send her to the sickbay for a day or two. Certain plants, especially, mess with her head, and she steers very clear of the few botany projects the scientists have got tucked aboard. Final note: She goes by her middle name, Lovisa, on occasion. She'd never mention it, but she'd totally love it if you called her by that rather than her first. Makes her feel all fancy, I think. Odd girl.

Spoiler: Theme – "You see, I'd try to fix it, but that would take some basic skill or a modicum of will. I'll go get Vasily."

 

[Kassandra]

Full Name: Forty-Four
Role: Weapons Specialist
Age: 52
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
Appearance: Most striking about her appearance in the degree of modification done to her body, considered extreme even by her own people's standards. Her two sets of arms and (single pair of) legs are all an uncaring shade of metallic gray, lacking a visually comforting component such as faux skin, or a more aesthetically pleasing paint job. After all of her alterations, 44 is a perfectly even 6'2", weighing significantly more than expected within her height class due to the high concentration of installed into her body. Otherwise, her eyes are a brilliant yellow, and her hair is as dark as the vacuum of space. She'll also usually come with some sort of oil stain on her clothes or on the outer regions of her face.

Spoiler

Race: Derrid/Cyborg

Spoiler

Type: Humanoid

Origins: The descendants of the original 500 human colonists sent to conquer the planet PX-3311, later renamed Deri. Several months after their arrival, a foreign unstable gas in the planetoid's atmosphere was discovered to be cause of rampant, life-threatening disease among their numbers. With emergency medical supplies delayed, their only salvation was a vaccine speculated to build extreme resistance to their new environment, but one that promised unforeseeable side effects. The result was permanent alteration to their population's physiology, down to their genetic code. The rapid changes killed many, but those who survived went on to sire an evolved progenie. One gifted with the ability to breathe all manner of toxins as if they were oxygen.

Notable Traits: Derrid have superior organic circulatory systems, but at the cost of developing "patterned degenerative muscle disease" early in life. To overcome these cases, the Derrid people often turn to cybernetics at the first sign of the illness's development.

Notable Culture: The disease the original generation of settlers faced commonly triggered an unusual form of memory loss, which seemed to target a victim's sense of self. Those affected eventually took to referring to themselves as the number on their assigned identification, rather than their actual names. The tradition continued even after the vaccine was developed, with numbers being recycled as their original owners passed. Now, their numbers span well into the hundreds of thousands. Parents often put off naming their child for weeks until a number within the original 500 becomes available, now symbolic of good fortune.

Skills: 44 is a matchless expert when it comes to firepower, from designing and manufacturing, to having her own finger on the trigger. This includes the repair and operation of any vessel's weapons systems, with enough time to study them beforehand.
Personality: 44 considers herself particularly knowledgeable in more than just weaponry, believing her age to hold some sort of valuable wisdom over even comparably ageless species. She's also quite wry with others, highly indicative of the confidence she has in her abilities, as well as her rightfulness among her fellow crewmates.
History: Lucky 44. Sometimes the universe flinches, and everything just happens to line up all at once. A gambler rolls doubles, lightning strikes twice, two bullets strike each other in a heated gunfight. All coincidences, probably, but 44's parents definitely would've disagreed with that sentiment on the day of their daughter's birth. Off-planet for their honeymoon, several days away from Deri, 44's mother pregnancy came to its apex, an entire month before the projected due date. As was custom, all Derrin newborns, or at least those born to parents that practiced their traditions, had to be officially named at specific government offices on their home planet, in order to prevent duplicate names in their citizens. Fearing that their daughter might go nameless until they returned home, they relented, and agreed to have the child born in a local clinic. As luck would have it, in the next room was an elderly Derrin woman, who had left her home planet to live out her remaining days in luxury. Just as her end drew closer, a new beginning did the same, leaving the parents bestowed with two separate honors upon returning to Deri. Reporting the death of a citizen who died in peace, and the exclusive right to their name before anyone else got a chance at it. And so, 44 came to be.

Amidst Deri's industry-centric economy, 44's natural affinity for working with her hands found myriad opportunities to flex itself. While her peers set their sights on all manner of fields in machinery and engineering, and they all interested her as well, in one way or another, only one truly called to her. The art of gunsmithing. Being particularly partial to the classics, her specialty eventually became making nigh-flawless replicas of 20th and 21st century designs, as well as taking them and incorporating modern firearms tech. Her valued skills were what eventually had her headhunted by the Forces of Deri, a militant faction independent from the Derrin government, at an extremely young age. As such, she never quite took the time to internalize their goals. Years later, it was her guns that left a bloody trail leading all the way to the capitol, and her guns that the oligarchy were knelt before, via firing squad. Suddenly, she was a war criminal, and the unofficial general of the new Deri Totality. It was wrong, and it was clear her people would only suffer in the transition, so 44 chose to take fixing it into her own hands.

At the summons for the new supreme leader's coronation ceremony, resigned to a grizzly fate, she brandished her personal revolver. Just as a third party put their own plan into motion. An EMP blast disabled all of the weaponry she designed, save for the traditional six-shooter in her own hand. Defenseless, she put an end to the insurgency by offing its most powerful players right then and there. She promptly fled the planet, never learning what hidden faction had worked to stage the attempt at rebellion she accidentally barged in on.
Likes:

• Sketching New Designs
• Time In Her Workspace
• Reading Ancient Earth Literature
• Bartering

Dislikes:

• Hearing News From Deri
• Sleeping In
• Rural Planets