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Futuristic Ｔｈｅｒｅｆｏｒｅ Ｉ Ａｍ - Character Sheets

Other
Here
birdgeoisie

birdgeoisie

leedle creecher
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
Deadline for Apps is Monday Dec. 19th at 11:59pm EST​




therefore I am

applications













application info.




Name:
Origin (human or other):
Model (if applicable):
Role:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Faceclaim (optional):
Body Mods (if applicable):
Personality:
Background:
Skills:
Inventory:
Moveset:


















roles.











professional



1/3





You’re an arrow who’s been at this for years. There’s no one better at this job than you. You’re definitely not the sort of person that people should fuck with. Naturally, you’re expected to take the lead in investigations, especially when things get violent.

(Accepting: humans )










Fish out of Water



1/3





You don’t fit in here. Whether you’re an A-gen in disguise, one of the last remaining Old gen intelligent robots, or your brain’s been so scrambled that you have to rely on black market mnemo-scans for your identity, you’re probably putting yourself at risk just by being here. But you need something out of this, so you stay.

(Accepting: humans, robots, A-gens [wartime or modern models] )










rookie



0/3





You’re new, fresh out of the police academy. Hell, you might not have even TRAINED to be an ARO, but they needed some extra hands, and now you better figure things out fast. Or they might be scraping your organs off the walls soon.

(Accepting: Humans )










specialist



0/2





You’ve been brought on to the job for your Very Specific Knowledge. Are you a lowlife scamp with black market contacts? Or maybe a hacker? Mnemosurgeon developer? Genetic designer? Your input is invaluable for when you just don’t have time to go do some research. Also, you probably don’t have any combat training so, uh. Good luck and stay out of the line of fire!

(Accepting: Humans, A-gens [modern models] )










driver



0/2





You can drive it. It doesn’t matter what “it” is- you can do it. Be it car, jet, motorcycle, crane, or aerocab, you’re a natural. Like a duck to water- or a you to a submarine -it’s all instinct. And there’s no one more dynamic than you. Depending on your course in life, you might know how to throw a punch or two, or maybe you use your vehicles like an extension of yourself to cause carnage.

(Accepting: Humans, robots )










scrapper



0/1





Something about tech and machines just speaks to you. You’re no virtuoso hacker; your preferences lie in the analog rather than the code (though you’re probably familiar). Put a broken cybermod or a busted engine in front of you and you can fix it, no questions about it. You may be tough, and you probably know your way around a firearm or have an odd weapon you’ve scrapped yourself.

(Accepting: Humans, A-gens [wartime and modern models] )










drone handler



0/1





You’re sort of like a K9 unit, except your K9 can explode a tank. You’re combat trained, but a lot better working in a team with your robo buddy. As much as it benefits you, it also comes with restrictions and a watchful eye on your shoulder because big brother is always wary of bots, even those lacking in intelligence.

(Accepting: Humans )















extra information.






Please fill out all the necessary information in your character sheets. Sections that have been highlighted in blue are not 100% necessary at this stage, but will be needed if you are accepted. Remember, at this stage we are most interested in seeing interesting character concepts that bring something to the table in terms of themes or dynamics, whether related to the world or other characters. The intention is to have a diverse and balanced cast that is going to challenge each other in unique ways.

In addition to the information listed, please pick one (1) question from the following list and answer it in-character attached to your CS.












Is it more important to be respected or liked?








What is your most treasured possession?











What do you fear more than anything?








Do you like fire, earth, air or water?








What is more important: the ends or the means?








Do you think there is such a thing as evil?








What pain do you hide away from others?








What separates somebody from somebody else?








Can people change?








What do you dream of?















♡coded by uxie♡


APPLICATION INFO
Name:
Origin (human or other):
Model (if applicable):
Role:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Faceclaim (optional):
Body Mods (if applicable):
Personality:
Background:
-------------
Skills:
Inventory:
Moveset:

EXTRA INFORMATION
Please fill out all the necessary information in your character sheets. Sections that have been highlighted in blue are not 100% necessary at this stage, but will be needed if you are accepted. Remember, at this stage we are most interested in seeing interesting character concepts that bring something to the table in terms of themes or dynamics, whether related to the world or other characters. The intention is to have a diverse and balanced cast that is going to challenge each other in unique ways.

In addition to the information listed, please pick one (1) question from the following list and answer it in-character attached to your CS.

-What is your most treasured possession?

-Is it more important to be respected or liked?

-What do you fear more than anything?

-Do you like fire, earth, air or water?

-What is more important: the ends or the means?

-Do you think there is such a thing as evil?

-What pain do you hide away from others?

-What separates somebody from somebody else?

-Can people change?

-What do you dream of?

ROLES

Professional:
1/3
You’re an arrow who’s been at this for years. There’s no one better at this job than you. You’re definitely not the sort of person that people should fuck with. Naturally, you’re expected to take the lead in investigations, especially when things get violent.
(Accepting: Humans)

Fish Out of Water:
1/3
You don’t fit in here. Whether you’re an A-gen in disguise, one of the last remaining Old gen intelligent robots, or your brain’s been so scrambled that you have to rely on black market mnemo-scans for your identity, you’re probably putting yourself at risk just by being here. But you need something out of this, so you stay.

(Accepting: humans, robots, A-gens [wartime or modern models] )

Rookie:
0/3
You’re new, fresh out of the police academy. Hell, you might not have even TRAINED to be an ARO, but they needed some extra hands, and now you better figure things out fast. Or they might be scraping your organs off the walls soon.
(Accepting: Humans)

Specialist:
0/2
You’ve been brought on to the job for your Very Specific Knowledge. Are you a lowlife scamp with black market contacts? Or maybe a hacker? Mnemosurgeon developer? Genetic designer? Your input is invaluable for when you just don’t have time to go do some research. Also, you probably don’t have any combat training so, uh. Good luck and stay out of the line of fire!
(Accepting: Humans)

Driver:
0/2
You can drive it. It doesn’t matter what “it” is- you can do it. Be it car, jet, motorcycle, crane, or aerocab, you’re a natural. Like a duck to water- or a you to a submarine -it’s all instinct. And there’s no one more dynamic than you. Depending on your course in life, you might know how to throw a punch or two, or maybe you use your vehicles like an extension of yourself to cause carnage.
(Accepting: Humans, robots)

Scrapper:
0/1
Something about tech and machines just speaks to you. You’re no virtuoso hacker; your preferences lie in the analog rather than the code (though you’re probably familiar). Put a broken cybermod or a busted engine in front of you and you can fix it, no questions about it. You may be tough, and you probably know your way around a firearm or have an odd weapon you’ve scrapped yourself.
(Accepting: Humans, A-gens)

Drone Handler:
0/1
You’re sort of like a K9 unit, except your K9 can explode a tank. You’re combat trained, but a lot better working in a team with your robo buddy. As much as it benefits you, it also comes with restrictions and a watchful eye on your shoulder because big brother is always wary of bots, even those lacking in intelligence.
(Accepting: Humans )
 
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Valorous Order x Code by Serobliss
Therefore I Am
JADE
Chicago
Code Name / Murphy
Gender / Female
Combat Experience / Proficient
Birthplace / Aurora, Il
Birthday / January

Height / 171 cm 5'6"
Personal Details
General Description
Loud, rude, sarcastic, deadly, very competitive, short-tempered, cynical, confident, and considerably aggressive nihilist who exhibits a wild temperament. Jade is undiplomatic, believing in using brute force and coercion to get her way.

Physical Description :

Weight: 129 Pounds
Height: 5' 6"
Hair: Long Black hair that comes to mid back.
Eyes: Light Brown
Body Piercings and Ink: Three earrings on each lobe with upper cartilage piercing on the left side. One small nose stud on the right nostril. Both arms are covered in sleeved tattoos.
Body Mod:
Remote Mnemo
LORE: Remote mnemo is performed using an Interfacer that, depending on the model, will require a direct synaptic link to the patient via a link cable or connection to a neurochip. Unlike the visual and audio output of SM, RM spits out something called the Bell code, a digital coded interpretation, a “mind map” if you will, of a person’s brain that a trained mnemosurgereon can interpret and modify.
AROs are trained to read and interpret Bell code.



Personality
Inventory: TBD
Skills: Detection, stalking, target range estimation methods, camouflage, tracking, bushcraft, field craft, infiltration, special reconnaissance and observation, surveillance, and target acquisition.
Experience - Army > Customs Agent > ARO: Androgenesid Recall Operative
ARO
❖
❖
❖
❖
Kills
37
Operations
62
Medals
5
ARO Service Term
7
Movesets
You Can't See What's Not There

Engages targets from positions of concealment or at distances reducing detection capabilities. Uses specialized training and is equipped with high-precision rifles and high-magnification optics.
Ranged Attack
Jade prefers to sit and wait for her target when possible. Engaging at range allows for optimal damage. This makes the close encounter to verify the status with Mnemosurgery handled swiftly.
Bell Code Queen
Jade seems to have a natural inclination to Bell Code. While all AROs must understand it, Jade reads it like a book. Able to read, edit and modify with relative ease.
Historical Biography
Year 000
Jade was born in Aurora, IL. The small town focused mostly on growing food crops for Chicago. With genetic modification, crops were able to withstand harsher weather. Though many in the town never did well enough to leave This is why Jade focused on her studies and applied to the Army.

Year 010
At the age of 18 Jade joined up for outpost work in the Army. Though in the four years she served, her interest moved to customs. While outpost work had its moments of heart-pounding adrenaline-filled work, it was often dull. Once her term was up, Jade applied for Customs work. This work was more involved. Seeking out illegal imports and contraband was more of an adventure, with is why she stuck with that line of work for a decade.

Year 020
Over the years, Jade's name had made its rounds in the proper circles. Hearing of the challenge of hunting A-Gens piqued her interest. Once again, changing careers, Jade completed the training program and became an ARO. Now starting a new career in her thirties, Jade was determined to be at the top of the performance list. Keeping in peak mental and physical shape has been her focus.

Performing exceptionally well with the higher-risk remote mnemo, Jade took to long-range recon and initial engagement. Allowing her to work systematically once engaged in status verification with minimal complications most of the time.

Year 030
Some would refer to Jade as callus, while others feel she is professional and calculating. Either way, the body count has slowly but surely piled up. Jade may not be the best, but she has been a ARO for seven years.

Year 040
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Maecenas ligula felis, pharetra vel nunc varius, congue maximus urna. Sed faucibus, dolor vitae volutpat viverra, tellus libero tristique dui, ut pulvinar arcu ipsum eget elit. Vestibulum at dui in tortor scelerisque laoreet. Etiam nisi ipsum, bibendum at magna eget, consequat bibendum tortor. Nullam nunc leo, gravida nec risus non, feugiat ultrices turpis. Curabitur pretium et neque a laoreet. Praesent ac magna ullamcorper tellus consequat scelerisque. Proin sollicitudin nibh lorem, eu dignissim sapien iaculis in. Nunc vitae fringilla odio. Nulla vitae venenatis neque, vitae fringilla neque.

 
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  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    sicarius
    full name
    Lachlan Wilder
    age
    34
    gender
    cis female (she/they)
    sexuality
    lesbian
    occupation
    A-Gen Recall Operative
    Biostatus
    Human (synthmod)
    professional
    nicknames.
    ari, spider, wilde, lach

    skills.
    parkour, hand-to-hand, deduction, marksmanship (handguns), solving riddles, language

    inventory.
    a pair of pistols, set of tactical knives, emergency flare, mnemo interfacer, ARO badge, pocket journal

    synthmods.
    a nuerochip for linking to a mnemo interfacer. also provides cerebral firewalls to protect against reverse-mnemo


left
 















































  • operative themis. fish out of water.












    appearance











    height

    5’5’’ / 167cm






    weight

    150lb / 68kg






    hair c.

    dark brown-black






    eye c.

    pale silvery-grey












    hair styling

    Their hair is thick and wavy, and comes down just past their shoulders when they let it down. Usually, it resides in a small ponytail, showing off their shaven undercut beneath their layers. Their bangs fall messily around and across their face, and they’ll keep it back with bobby-pins if they need to.






    build

    Venus is dense and well-built; their arms and thighs are visibly well-muscled, and their torso is equally well-toned. Despite their height, they’re clearly sturdily built and they seem to be a relatively even mix of meso-endomorph.






    body mods.

    They have a snake tattoo circling their left forearm, with the head resting on the back of their hand with red eyes. Above that, on their left bicep, they have two strips of black circling around. Both hands have various tattoos, primarily black lines; though they have a crescent moon on their ring finger, and a crown on their left index finger. Their right arm consists of a sleeve of various leaves and flowers, trailing up under their shirt until a line of forget-me-nots trails to the side of their neck. There’s a smiley-face on their lower back, and they have a little bird behind their right ear. Additionally, their right eyebrow is pierced once, and both ears are pierced multiple times; they often wear a heavy cross in their left lobe, with a small line of black studs next to it. They have an industrial bar in their right ear, alongside their multiple lobe piercings. Their tongue is also pierced.






    other

    They have deeply freckled brown skin, but no other notable blemishes; their skin is smooth, and they don’t seem to be prone to outbreaks. They seem to favor plain black t-shirts and high-waisted jeans, with an aviator jacket thrown atop it all - sometimes they wear aviator shades, if they feel like it. Heavy boots with steel toes and thick soles accompany this, bumping their height up to 5’7’’. They can be uncanny to look at; they don’t blink often, and their pale gaze can be piercing at the best of times, with the dark limbal rings and pupil in contrast to their pale irises. Their nails are usually painted black and are usually chipped. Over their left hip-bone, they have a strip of pale white skin, contrasting deeply against the brown. Venus does not remember how they got this.
















































♡coded by uxie♡




what is more important? the ends or the means?
In the dim light, Venus’ eyes are piercing. They tilt their head as they consider the question, cigarette hanging loosely between their lips, fingers drumming the sticky table. It isn’t that this question requires much thought; they have an answer in the mind. But within the reasoning lays the difficulty, where eloquence fails them. They exhale a cloud of smoke and take their cigarette from their mouth, tapping the ash directly onto the floor.
“The ends will always justify the means,” they say. Their eyebrow raises; their piercing glints in the light. “To achieve difficult goals…there is an element of sacrifice. Be it self-sacrifice or the sacrifice of others; there is always a price. The greatest people have always committed many sins, on the bodies of those around them. Sure, you could try to take the just path, but would you achieve what you wanted to in your lifetime? It’s easy to live your life with your head down, doing good by those you don’t even know. But would you be fulfilled?”
There is something of a smile on their face, and it is not a pleasant sight. They are uncanny and unbothered.
“This is a question for more ambitious people,” they add, closing their eyes. “At the end of the day, I don’t care. But I will never begrudge those who achieve their goals, no matter what the means were. Superiority complexes over being a good and just person isn’t my thing. If you’re going to fuck over those in your life, why not do it while achieving greatness?”
They lift their drink. A dismissal. ​
 
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KIALA LOURDE

Human / Female / 24 / Pansexual​
  • Appearance
    • 5'7" / 124lbs
    • Straight light brown hair that falls to between her shoulder blades. It's always down when she's off the clock, but she has to wear it up while working, so it's usually braided.
    • A lean frame, underweight for her size. Not a lot of muscle and even less fat. It's hardly on purpose, her food budget has just been extremely tight.
    • She favors loose, thick clothing and prefers anything that she can easily patch herself. Her casual clothes are often on the scuffed and dirty side, but she keeps her CPD uniform clean as she can.
  • Personality
    • Kiala's parents did their best to shelter and protect her, but Kiala has always had her own plans for the future, albeit inexorably colored by her upbringing. While she's technically proficient and has the appropriate training to make her a competent ARO, she's quickly realizing that doing alright in the police academy doesn't necessarily correlate to doing alright out in the field. She has a friendly, carefree demeanor that generally makes it easy for her to make friends and network, but she can be too trusting, especially of individuals who appear unmodded and entirely human. She has a motto of "innocent until the mnemo indicates otherwise," and does her best to live up to that ideal.
    • Honestly, Kiala has a lot of ideals and many of them have yet to be tested in choppy waters. She believes strongly in her community and everyone working together to ensure a safe future. She believes that the AROs are heroes and worthy of a lot of adoration. She believes that the world will be a better place without A-gens and artificial intelligence as a whole.
    • She's still learning and is only just beginning to see more shades of gray and, to her credit, she's willing to examine those shades, albeit reluctantly. She's not exactly the brightest billboard on the strip, but she's no slouch and is smart enough to recognize the shortcomings of her parents' point of view. Whether she can grow beyond it remains to be seen.
  • Background
    • Kiala was the second child her parents, Askar and Loris, had, being born a few years after the end of the war. They'd had to wait a few years, as their first child, Jika, was killed in a building collapse when she was just a few months old, right at the end of the war. Both of her parents physically survived the war, but the loss of their daughter took a toll and it was almost 5 years before they were willing to even consider having another child.
    • Kiala was incredibly well-loved and protected. Her parents coddled and protected her, doing everything they could to keep her safe from what they perceive as a broken and dangerous world. Combine that with an array of family friends who kept a look-out for her and Kiala had a relatively safe childhood, especially when compared to those of previous generations.
    • Kiala's parents aren't wealthy by any standard but they are well connected. Specifically, they have a lot of connections with nativist movements and have raised her to be highly suspicious of anyone with mods that aren't necessary for survival. They also have no fondness for any synthetic life, robot or a-gen alike. They're the same to her and to a lot of the people she grew up associating with.
    • She went into the police academy immediately after finishing up school, barely getting admitted for more than a few reasons. Her grades were never great and her ties to some activist groups made her entrance and screening more difficult than usual, but she just managed to squeak by. Once in the academy, she excelled physically and showed promise in mnemosurgical training, though her reluctance to get a synthmod means she's been doing it the old fashioned way.
    • Kiala wants to be an ARO, more than she wants to be a regular CPD officer and while she still struggled with general coursework, she scraped by her testing and made good friends with superior officers that vouched for her to be allowed to move into the ARO program. She's not been on the job long and has yet to actually be assigned to an a-gen to pursue, but she's determined to do right by her community and remove these threats to her city.
  • Moveset
    • "I know a guy": Kiala's family may be small, but she has a veritable truckload of family friends and distant connections. Her parents' social circle is composed of both well-respected local politicians and back-alley anarchic activists and Kiala calls them all her aunts and uncles. While she doesn't know anyone with proper power or real influence, a quick phone call is all it takes to find a plumber, an hvac guy, or at least a dozen people willing to form an impromptu dragnet to flush a rogue A-gen out of hiding.
  • Skills
    • Let's be honest. Kiala is ok at the necessary aspects of her job. She can shoot a gun, she can talk to suspects, she can hold her own in a physical altercation, and she can read Bell Code. She's not skilled at any of those things.
    • Persistence: She just doesn't quit. Kiala is a master of getting things done, no matter how long it takes. She may not be the fastest or best or most qualified for a task, but if you put it in front of her, it will get done right eventually.
  • Inventory
    • Mnemo-pad: Kiala has no neural synthmod to allow her to do mnemosurgery in the way most AROs do. She has to rely on a slightly more old-school method.
    • Standard Issue Handgun: She's an adequate shot, if we're putting it kindly. It's always on her, mostly because there's no way she's leaving it at home around any of her roommates.
    • Mom's Boots: Her mom worked as a medic in the early days of the war, before the death of Jika. The synthetic leather boots are on the old side, but Kiala keeps them pristine and gets them repaired as often as needed. They're the one thing she's willing to spend any amount of money on.

ARO ROOKIE


"What do you dream of?"

Kiala looks up from her desk, covered in half-finished reports and clearly in the middle of an ill-advised all-nighter if the bags under her eyes are anything to go by. "Literally? Are you being literal? Because I had this dream the other night where there was an elephant on the street outside my apartment and everyone was piling onto it like it was a bus. And I was convinced it was my bus and that I wasn't going to make it." She pushes a report off to the side, making room on her desk to draw out the scene, "So I'm sprinting down the stairs, because the lift's been broken for weeks and the maintenance bot in our building is absolutely useless. I get outside and the elephant is just walking over cars and I'm sprinting over cars and woosh, under some fancy aerocab. And then I finally catch up to the elephant just as it turns around and starts charging towards me and BAM." Her hand slaps down on the desk, "I wake up."

"Weird, right? Never even seen an elephant except for videos and pictures in my learning programs growing up."

She finally slows, actually thinking for a moment before the realization dawns on her, "But you didn't mean literal. You meant what I want for the world and myself and stuff."
Kiala slowly leans back in her chair, wheels creaking against the old vinyl flooring. It takes her a good moment before she speaks, her voice much softer now, "I dream about a world where the wastelands are safe again. My granddad used to talk about what it looked like before the war and the A-gens tore it all to pieces." She smiles for a second, "Maybe real elephants."

She reaches out to pick up her coffee cup, taking a small sip before wrinkling her nose at the cold, bitter taste. Then, something strikes her as an afterthought, "I dream of a room of my own someday. I share my room with two other people and the apartment with another seven. A private room with maybe a window is a pretty nice dream."​
 
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임재성



서예슬




human.

Those who fight monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.







































  • Excalibur.







    full name

    Im Jae-Sung






    age

    fifty






    gender

    male






    sexuality

    bisexual






    occupation

    Androgenesis Recall Operative






    role

    professional















    visage.



    scroll




    height

    6'2", 189 cm






    weight

    91kg, 200.6 lbs






    hair

    black swept back pompadour






    eyes

    dark brown eyes






    build

    muscular, mesomorph build






















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Click Squares and Scroll
  • Initializing Basics...
    Name :: Maylard Reeves
    Nickname :: May
    Role :: Driver
    Age :: 35
    Gender :: Female
    Sexuality :: Homosexual
    Occupation :: Androgenesid Recall Operative | Outside Transport Driver/Pilot
    Rendering Appearance...
    May has short, brown hair ending above her shoulders, often attempting to be wrestled down by either a clip or a desperate attempt at a ponytail. Her eyes are a deep, dark brown but a ring of light appears around her iris, showing the synth mods that have been put in place for better efficiency in the field. May stands at a decent height of 5'7 takes good care of her physical health and keeps it in an athletic form to make sure she can go toe-to-toe with those that she's hunting. She's certainly not as strong as most combat-oriented AROs but she can still give you a run for your money. May has quite the assortment in her wardrobe but is often seen in a jacket (with an absurd amount of pockets), a simple shirt, cargo pants, and boots with whatever weapon she has strapped on her.

    Body Mods :: A synthmod for her eyes that was inserted to give her better visual acuity and sharper attention to peripherals even when moving at a faster speed ; mnemo interfacer and protection just in case she's required to do the mnemosurgery herself

    Face Claim: Keira Knightley
 
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Name: K Emperor Model 5 SN: 47892368; goes by Kaiser (a.k.a Hare Trigger)

Origin (human or other): Robot

Model (if applicable): Emperor Model 5

Role: Fish out of water

Age: Has been in commission for 5 years

Gender: technically doesn't have one, but prefers male

Sexuality: pansexual

Appearance:
Towering at an impressive height of 6'6" with what one could only describe as a mimic of a muscled build, Kaiser is a sight to behold. He is broad shouldered, broad chested, well just about broad everything. He is built to handle large and heavy deliveries that humans can't. What would take 2-4 humans takes only one of him. Most of his circuits and wires are hidden behind thick paneling that seems to be in rather great condition. If one stands close to him they would be able to notice a lot of the little dents and scratches in some of his paneling. It doesn't seem to ever bother him. His faceplate is one smooth piece attached to the front of his head where information can flash across when necessary. It usually is a more muted, neutral white or orange color, but is able to change colors depending on the situation. Atop his head sits two antenna like pieces that slightly resemble rabbit ears, these are mainly used for his internal GPS system but seem to be an integral part in how he functions. His legs are as thick as the rest of his body, making his movements a bit slower due to his size and heavy weight, but they seem to be able to carry him with ease. While his chest and neck have a few exposed cables, tubing and the like, his legs don't appear to have anything exposed. Kaiser can usually be seen in his uniform when he's around others, perhaps people will find him more acceptable to be around that way. If one pays close attention they may be able to catch a peek of his decals: one on either side of his thigh plating moving into his backside. One is a silhoutte of a woman with bunny ears, the other is a matching male version. He does his best to keep these hidden when he's able, more out of concern it may raise suspicions. His shoulders seem to have a buffed out spot on either side where his old company's logo has been removed half heartedly. Someone familiar with his model, or robots in general, can easily identify that his faceplate is newer compared to the rest of him. There is also a small device hidden among the cables in his throat that he seems to be awfully protective of.

Faceclaim (optional):

EUx7C9aVAAA7hbK.jpeg
@esuthio on twitter; image should be linked to the twitter post

Body Mods (if applicable):
Kaiser has had a few physical upgrades to his body to make him a bit faster, stronger and more capable of taking a hit. They're nothing horribly fancy, not even the most expensive one could buy. Why waste that kind of money on something like him? It's just to keep him a little less likely to totally be destroyed. At least until they've gotten their use out of him.

Personality:
K Emperor Model 5 does not allow for personality trai- ERROR; code undetected; ERROR; faulty program chip.

Kaiser is a quiet individual, either due to necessity to keep himself from being scrapped or that's just how he is for now. He is still adjusting to having sentience and intelligence, doing his best to take it in at a slow pace. A lot of what he does comes down to a mix between his original programming and his own personality forming. He tries to be useful and helpful to those around him, in whatever form that is. He is rather obedient, following just about any order hiven to him without fail as best he can. As a robot, he finds humans fascinating and curious little things, and on occassion he finds them to be silly little things with their fears and ideals. Kaiser can be a bit gullible at times, trusting far too easily and if he's betrayed or discovers he's been lied to he takes it in stride because humans, and a-gens he's sure, are just like that. They can't have the perfect programming he does that stops him from lying. Or mostly stops him. His damaged programming chip seems to be malfunctioning and he's found himself losing his restrictions over time at a snail's pace. Every once in awhile it shines through in something he says or does, a glimpse of robotic emotion peeking through, or slipping out in a laugh. His laugh is almost unsettling, a horrible sound of what can only be described as recorded laughter from several sources mashed into one audio that's a bit crackly and clearly mechanical. While he's used to being looked down upon, treated poorly or ignored, he's finding over time that it's rather sad. There are times where he wishes he'd never experienced the damage he did, at least that way he'd still be blind to how much humans feared and hated him. There is a tiny portion of him that seems to be a bit darker, a speck of darkness in his vast positive brightness. Humans fear him and this small sliver almost wants to give them a real reason to fear him. His new programming makes him protective of his companions, causing him to step in when it's needed as his system now views all ARO employees as his deliveries. It was a minor upgrade to his existing programming that was added on his extra chip.

Background:
Kaiser was manufactured originally as a specific model for Emperor Delivery Services and was built specifically as a "Heavy Hare" submodel in order to deal with heavier deliveries or shipments. Day after day after day he simply was booted up for work and sent off, usually either paired with another Heavy Hare model or a Hopper Hare, speedier and lighter models used for faster deliveries. His job never bothered him, he never hated it or loved it, it was simply what he was programmed to do and he was programmed to be good at it. Despite his large size and carrying capability, he was quite good at being gentle with client deliveries. In every way he helped showcase why his model was worth investing in.

On occassion he came across those who didn't care for him, that never bothered him. Why should it? He wasn't programmed to care. He had a job to do and he would do what was necessary to complete the job in the promised timeframe his company gave him. He'd had things thrown at him, threats thrown in his direction, horrible things said to him. Kaiser was all too familiar with untrusting gazes and silent whisperings about how it was a good thing he was so stupid. He had basic human level intelligence programmed into him in order to do his job as efficiently as possible and on occassion think independently to an extent when his job required it, such as finding an alternative route to take his delivery truck to avoid heavy traffic. This intelligence was placed on a programming chip in his head behind his faceplate and at the end of the month it would be pulled to be tested and updated to keep Kaiser from growing any smarter than what he already was.

During a delivery, in a neighborhood he was not familiar with and unaware that he was not wanted in the area, he found himself in a tricky spot. A couple of humans who'd had a bit too much to drink had cornered him after he'd made his delivery. Unable to defend himself and his programming stopping him from retaliating, he was attacked, suffering damage to his face plate and torso. Once they'd had their fill and left him alone, Kaiser was able to function enough to return to his headquarters where he promptly shut down. Several days later he was brought back online with new parts, much cheaper than making a whole new replacement and faster to simply replace what had been damaged.

Someone didn't do their job fully though and missed the fact that Kaiser's programming chip had suffered damage as well and could no longer be extracted from it's port. The damage he suffered seemed to effect it in a way that he was able to gain some form of sentience and began learning at a slow pace. He continued working, slowly realizing that his job was rather boring and easy and he couldn't converse with his fellow bots for fear that he would be discovered and also they weren't programmed to carry conversation beyond polite small talk with clients if they said something first.

Eventually Kaiser disappeared from the company, hiding out as he worked on himself to remove his company's GPS tracking, pulling it from his system and destroying it so it appeared as though he'd suffered a tragic accident and they wouldn't come looking for him. For a long while Kaiser felt lost, meandering around without purpose, observing the humans around him as he tried to find new purpose for himself. During this time he found that the damage to his chip caused him to "glitch" and override his programming on occassion. It was slow going and not an immediate thing he noticed, nor was it something his system warned him about.

At some point he found a shady dealer who was "nice" enough to give him a jammer device to help slow down his learning AI and sentience. At least until he could figure out how to get through it without risking being disassembled. After receiving the jammer he began doing more research into his model in order to maintain himself. His jammer blocks the fact he is able to learn and has more intelligence than he probably should, allowing him to pass scans.

Kaiser found himself becoming an ARO due to his skills at driving, following orders and being really whatever was needed of him. His original company has his model's design and information on lock so looking up anything about him yields minimum results, allowing him to be brought on. He was given a system upgrade and an additional programming chip in one of his extra ports to allow him to be a bit more efficent at more than just driving. His updated system now views ARO employees as his "deliveries" and he is to protect them at all costs. He's simply expendable muscle and he's to follow his new programming to do whatever is necessary and whatever is asked of him without question.

So far his "malfunction" has been overlooked again and he's simply trying to exist as long as he can before it's discovered that something is not right.


Skills:
• Driving and basic maintenance

• GPS/reconnaissance

• Basic hand to hand combat

• can adapt to using most tools/weapons if given a chance to practice and/or scan it

• a little more durable than a human

• obedience; following orders

• physical strength

Inventory:
• His delivery hat from his previous job; he has removed the company's name and kept only the running rabbit emblem on the front of it

• a lucky rabbit's foot that he's almost certain is a cat's foot- the shady vendor was very insistant it was a rabbit

• an oil rag because you never know when you'll need it!

• more a part of him rather than his actual inventory, somewhere on his person is the device he uses to help hide the fact he's more sentient and intelligent than he should be and that his AI is learning

• The Insurance Policy- an automatic rifle he's learned to use. He's not afraid to emoty the entire clip if needed. And it's a rather large clip.

• snacks for his human companions


Moveset:
• Next Day Delivery- Kaiser can get a sudden and surprising burst of speed that someone of his size shouldn't be able to possess; this only activates when his system believes a) his "delivery" will be "late" or b) his "delivery" is in possible danger and his system believes he can physically stop it

• Through Rain or Snow- a taser system that has been built into his body that he can activate from any point on his body or discharge all at once to stop something or someone from interfering with him successfully carrying out his "deliveries" or causing damage/harm to them; it's usually not lethal but...well...there's an accidents policy in place for a reason

•Brace For Impact- Kaiser's updated physical system for his model is able to take a bit more damage and heavier hits due to his updated hydraulics and shocks he can steel himself against something that would knock older models, Hopper Hares, or basic robots back


What do you fear more than anything?

Kaiser looks up from what he's been doing and while his faceplate doesn't show any emotions, its screen as blank as ever, it's clear he wasn't expecting such a question. He's silent, robotic ears standing up for a moment before leaning back. "What do I fear more than anything?" He looks down at his hands, metal fingers curling in and then out slowly as he thinks on the answer. Does he tell the honest truth? Or does he fake the answer? It's always tough trying to decipher what will be safe for him to say and what is too risky.

"I am afraid of being dissassembled," he finally admits, watching his hands as he speaks as if they hold the answer. "I am afraid that I will lose the freedom I have found and that I will no longer get to enjoy it. I will be permanently shut down and turned into nothing more than scrap metal. And I will not be missed. People don't miss my kind, robots. So I will be turned into nothing but metal to be disposed of, eradicated seems a good enough word to use I think."

There's a noise similar to a sigh even though he has no lungs and it's followed by a quiet little raspy, horrible sounding chuckle. "I don't think I fear being missed, no...I think that is a feeling I am used to. My serial number indicates I am one of hundreds like me and I am replaceable, expendable. Another can be built in my place and nobody will bat an eye as they say. Humans can't tell us apart from the next one, nor do they care to learn."

There's a moment where he seems to be staring at you, unmoving, ears standing upright now as they often do. "I could ask the same question of you though," his voice is quieter now, faceplate slowly turning a bright red as the lights around the edge change color. "But there is no need, I already know the answer," he rises slowly to his full height, towering over you and staring you down. "I have noticed all you humans are the same. You are most afraid of something like me."
 
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scrapper.















scroll

"Alt"



a-gen




ㅎㅎ














01.

serial (scroll)




AG-01000001-01001100-01010100-2









02.

model




Genesis 126









03.

age




presenting: 25
years in service: 2









04.

gender




male-presenting









05.

sexuality




questioning









06.

faceclaim




erin mommsen




































  • lament:



    "Humans are interesting. Unlike my projects and I, they can't be upcycled, reused, fixed, or whatever when they break completely."













♡coded by uxie♡



"What separates somebody from somebody else?"
​
Alt looked up from his puzzle that he had been working on. He then studied the figure of the person who had asked the question for a brief moment. At a moderate pace, he then put the piece he was holding down onto the table and turned his chair to face the speaker, a sign of devoting his attention to them. He made eye contact with the figure, then began to process a response.

“Many things,” he began. “Humans, especially, are interesting. They all have different reasons for doing the same thing. They all complete the same task in different ways. They respond to pressure and other various 'attacks' on them differently. Some weep until they get pity, others fight back, some choose to ignore, and few chose an interesting combination of the three, along with differing items. There are humans that are violent, and others that are not. I've also learned that people feel different emotions in different ways. I came across someone who was 'sad,' and they cried. Another said they were 'sad,' but it wouldn't bother them unless they continued to ponder over it. It's all quite niche, in the end. Everyone has a distinct and unique personality and appearance that they brand. That only touches the surface of what distinguishes somebody from somebody else.”
 
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  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    Raine
    full name
    Serial Number CM-040720
    age
    ~35
    gender
    Non-binary (he/they)
    sexuality
    Pansexual
    Origin
    Androgenesid
    Model
    Wartime Model Genesis-98
    Fish Out of Water
    nickname.
    Raine

    occupation.
    ARO apprentice

    skills.
    hand-to-hand combat/melee weapons, sharpshooting, complex math, following orders, scribing, brute forcing

    inventory.
    military-grade knives, fake-ID, pre-packaged snacks, journal
left
 
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MICA TOYODA
Click Glowing Labels
BASICS
Name
\\
Mica Toyoda
Origin
\\
Human
Role
\\
Specialist
Age
\\
31
Gender
\\
Female
Sexuality
\\
Asexual

Appearance
\\
The surgeon-turned-developer sports a bob cut that was trimmed just a little too straight to be considered stylish, prominent cheekbones and eyes so dark of a brown that they’re mistaken for black. If a closer inspection is taken to her face, her left eye appears noticeably synthetic—veins or discolouration common to organic optics don’t marr its glassy surface, and the shade is the slightest bit lighter than her right. The obvious false eye also hides the tell from her neurochip; if her eye had been biotic, the iris would have scintillated in direct lighting. All these features combined give off a harsh impression to those who don’t know any better.

Her body is lanky with a torso on the boxier side, and she has not much muscle beyond that needed to escape when things go to shit. The silent war between Mica A’s stress eating and Mica B’s habit of ignoring hunger signals causes the amount of padding on her stomach to fluctuate weekly, with one side convincing herself that overeating is reasonable when the other personality barely eats at all and the other doing the same but in the opposite direction.

In clothing and styling choices is where the two personas differ further. If Mica B is the first to wake, which she usually is, one can be sure that slicked back hair with a generous amount of gel and a pressed lab coat will be the ensemble for the day. On the other hand, Mica A’s propensity for sleeping in often ends in her simply throwing on whatever’s nearest to her path out the door, which usually happens to be the odd combo of discount corporate t-shirts and formal pants.

Height
—
168 cm — 5’6”
Weight
—
54.8 kg — 120.8 lb
Faceclaim
—
Rinko Kikuchi

Body Mods
\\
Artificial Eye
—
Her left eye was pierced after a tumble down a set of stairs, and instead of regrowing the organ in a petri dish, she brought multiple fake ones. This eye is the last in a series of synthetic ocular aids she’s collected since elementary school; the surgeon has come a long way since that first plastic orb. With a bit more money in her pocket and ARO access, the developer splurged on the additional functions, so the eye can act the part of a GPS in a pinch. Unfortunately, the self-contained positioning system is heavily reliant on sight, highly inaccurate and exclusively stores data of the locations she has seen in person.

Neurochip
—
Programmed with cerebral firewalls, a full-system shutdown if the firewalls are broken through, and a couple of journals on the future of mnemoscience and biotechnology.
PERSONAL
Personality
\\
The current Mica is a consequence of receiving uncertified memory surgery to remove her perceived mental issues, and as most questionably legal endeavors into the mind end, it permanently fucked up her brain. The surgeon displays two distinct personas, both acknowledging the name Mica but allowing letter suffixes to differentiate them for clarity.

Mica A appears to be a snapshot of the anxious, reckless person that the surgeon was twelve years ago, when mnemosurgery was first performed on her memories. Infrequently clever with her quips but most of the time just awkward, this version of Mica is a strange mix of overconfidence and nerves that baffles even herself. The first thing most notice is that the woman tends to ramble under stressful circumstances—sometimes with a bitter edge to her statements—though she has admitted that she doesn’t mean half of what she says. It’s clear that her mouth regularly moves faster than her brain when she trails off with graceless “uh”s or falls into senseless spoonerisms.

Behind the immediate facade, Mica A is a stubborn soul with a relentless drive to see her goals through. The woman is prone to overthinking, then rashly ignoring that overthinking because she recognizes the fact that she’d never get anything done in that state, so to most observers, it appears that her thoughts are much simpler than they are.

When the switch is flipped, Mica B exudes an intentional demeanor of placidity, her emotions giving the impression of being muted if displayed at all. Thoughtful and deliberate when speaking, often taking long pauses to collect her thoughts, she comes off as a loquacious thinker that may be more than just a bit pretentious. Her tendency to lecture is reminiscent of the distorted memories implanted in her mind of professor parents and a kind childhood.

The remnants of failed surgeries cause the mnemo-developer intense migraines, and during these periods, Mica descends into sullen lapses of silence interspersed with jittery pacing or intense doodling. This is the sole time that she will not speak unless forced, so if one tries to converse with her and she bothers to reply, you can be sure it will be some form of unintelligible grunt.

Known Switches
\\
Complete reflections of her face, ???

Background
\\
They say hindsight is 20/20, but Mica isn’t so sure that’s true. After all, she’s had plenty of time to reflect on her actions, yet here she is: trying and failing and trying again to replace her mind with a better version of itself. Sixteen years and counting of fruitless efforts, only to make a mockery of the ideal self she thought she wanted, and it still wasn’t enough to convince her this path led nowhere.

If anything positive could be said of these attempts, it would be that her dedication was commendable. But one might ask, why? Why do all of this? Why spend years on a task that has had little success?

For this, we would have to go back in time.

In 2031, three years before a truce was brokered in the global conflict, the delicate balance between a couple on the verge of separating was finally broken by the birth of a child. Arguments and cold wars had already been common occurrences before the pregnancy was apparent, but with evidence of cheating on the table, it became worse. Shouting matches became scuffles and clandestine nighty disappearances were now done aboveboard as an open “fuck you”—but whether due to the inability to make a living or their lover leaving after the ruse was out, the two never truly divorced.

It was in this environment that Mica grew up. The first word she learned was “bitch”, and her first positive connection was with a rag of a sock, an imaginary friend with two holes that looked like mismatched eyes. School was something she had to remember to go to herself, and she found that by taking commissions for small tasks like doing a classmate’s homework, she could build a fund for herself. A fund for escaping her family, if they could be called that.

While her small stash of dollars was later found by a resentful parent and spent on their gambling addiction, she had realized that hard work gave results, even if there were setbacks in the process. So she started her small business again. And again. And again and again. Believing that where she failed many times, she could succeed once—and one success was all she needed.

And she did succeed. Eventually.

Soon she came to learn that she might have escaped her parents, but not their memories. Mica took pills to sleep every night, fearful that they would come banging on her door, screaming obscenities and wrenching her efforts from her grasp. She knew, logically, that their paths were unlikely to cross, and even if they did, they couldn’t force her to go back after she had crossed the threshold to adulthood. But nightmares weren’t things that could be erased by reason—if they were, she was certain the world would not be so terrible of a place.

As drugs and drink were temporary, she turned to the extreme choice. Mnemosurgery was a swiftly growing field that she hadn’t thought of as an option, but she had a scholarship to a state-run university sitting in her hands, and mnemoscience was a program possibility in the offer. So she accepted.

In her third year, flush with arrogance from her academic status and a growing impatience, Mica concocted a plan. She would pay a fellow mnemo major to do her surgery, booking a lab for the day of the event with the reason of “testing a hypothesis”. If the experiment was unsuccessful, she could always try again—like she had with all her childhood endeavours.

The mnemosurgery failed, and she was caught and suspended by the school in the process. But more shocking than being suspended was the existence of another persona. A childhood expectation of what a perfect person would look like, someone that Mica realized as an adult that was a parody. A caricature. When you stitched the pieces of her daydreams together, the shadow of something artificial was hidden within.

It was after a consultation with another mnemosurgeon that she realized that there were some things in life that she could not “try again”. Her mind had been scrambled too far for current memory technology to fix, and no proper mnemosurgeon worth their salt would take the job. Angry with her own short-sightedness and willing to try to advance the field of mnemoscience to restore her mind, she put her all into research. A master’s flew by, then a doctorate, and by the time she had graduated, she knew she was on the edge of a breakthrough.

Unfortunately, the black mark on her record from her undergraduate days continued to haunt her. No research institute would accept an associate with a history of criminal acts and mental instability, and she could not afford a lab of her own. Propaganda about the money AROs made was making its rounds that year, and in a moment of impulse, she joined them.

And the rest, as they say, is history.
ABILITIES — ITEMS
Skills
\\
  • Mnemosurgery
    • The Surgical Procedure
    • Research and Development
  • Mediocre Marksmanship
Inventory
\\
  • Cerebral Interface
  • RM Interfacer
  • Non-Reflective Lab Glasses
  • Tablet and Tablet Pen
  • Sleeping Pills
Moveset
\\
Mnemotech Expertise
—
Mica’s knowledge and experimentation on the exact nature of mnemosurgery and its practical applications in the world is relevant in fixing interfacers and debugging Bell code compilers. Small chance to jury rig a mnemo interfacer or hypothetical memory-related device with the right components in hand.

Run for Your Life
—
Adrenaline, endurance and swiftly moving mind results in a drawn-out chase sequence whenever the situation comes to the point where any direct conflict would be skewed towards the other party. Due to the fact that Mica is no world-class sprinter, she relies on obstacles and creative maneuvering to avoid being crushed by a pursuer.

Hide n’ Seek
—
If hiding is the only option, the developer can do it fairly well—for a human, at least. Avoiding locations that lines of sight naturally fall on, she tucks herself small and takes deep breaths from her mouth to suppress any breathing sounds. When she needs to move, she’ll do it slowly and carefully once the stalker is a distance away.
QUESTION
What separates somebody from somebody else?
Mica A
\\
She didn’t have a chance to react to the question that was spoken—before she could even think about her answer, her mouth was already spilling her incoherent thoughts.

“Their mucking find.” She grimaced, knowing that this was just the prelude. “Fucking. Mind. That’s what I meant to say.

“Sure, you have the body, the uhh”—the woman waved her hands as if to jog her memory and pushed on when the words didn't come—“body, and the body. But that doesn’t define a person. Cloned bits are a dime a dozen, and if you don’t have that tech, there’s always good ol’ plastic surgery. Bodies just aren’t as special as they used to be.

“You might be thinking, ‘oh, sure, Mica, but minds can be copied too!’” The specialist cringed as the mimicry squeezed past her lips. Her foot started agitatedly tapping the floor as if to mark the seconds until this conversation was over, and her imagination helpfully supplied an image of a rogue A-gen breaking into the room, conveniently crashing into the speaker.

“And you’re right, they can. But then you just have two of the same person until the memories diverge.” The developer paused and took a moment to actually think about what she’d just said. “… No wait, that makes no sense. Shit, can I do this again?”

Mica B
\\
The mnemosurgeon froze at the inquiry, eyes drifting downward in thought for a moment too long before they settled on the person in front of them. Pulling a thin tablet out of her pocket, she unhurriedly flipped to a note-taking application and anchored the device to the wall. The pen at the front of her coat was taken out and pointed to the blank surface as if to indicate the start of her lecture.

“Suppose we have a person”—the woman doodled a little figure on the screen—“and we need to determine if they differ from the set of all other beings in the universe.”

She sketched out an informal equation with set notation and multiple figures between the curly brackets. “What proof do we have that they are not exactly the same as another? I will simplify the method I would go about ascertaining this, so that this reply is not overly lengthy.

“First, does their Bell code match anyone else existing in this world?” The woman formed the beginnings of a list, setting “Compare Bell code” and a brain icon as the first item. “If not, congratulations, we have successfully determined that they are separate from everyone else.

“If they do match, we ask ourselves another question. Does their physical makeup coincide with the persons with the same Bell code?” Listing the second item on a new line, she drew a strand of DNA beside it. “If their body is identical, we have determined that they are a discrete individual.

“If it is the same, we move onto the last inquiry. Does their location in space deviate from the duplicate being?” Here the mnemosurgeon hesitated after noting the last question, and tapped the screen twice before scribbling a rough image of a planet. “If they do, they are an independent form of existence.

“If they do not,” she said, pausing for emphasis. “We can only conclude that they are the same person.”

Click Label
Extra Questions
Please imagine your own actions below bc I have not written them. E.g., Mica A tap dancing on a table, Mica B skydiving off a building, etc. etc.

Is it more important to be respected or liked?
Mica A
\\
“Respected. Being liked but not respected would be like what you feel for a pet, which sounds pretty shit. On the other hand, respect without fondness is like uhhh … something less not good. That was a terrible simile, fuck.”

Mica B
\\
“To be respected is of more significance in my eyes. Without appreciation, you may still make your way through life without too many hardships, but without respect … it would be very difficult to prove your ability or achieve a position that matters.”

What is your most treasured possession?
Mica A
\\
“My life? Sure would hate it if someone took that away from me.”

Mica B
\\
“Assuming that I own my life, it is the item I treasure most. It may not be the expected response, but I believe it falls within the definition of a ‘possession’.”

What do you fear more than anything?
Mica A
\\
“... I don’t know. Dying? Yeah, I fear death. I’d like to continue living, thanks.”

Mica B
\\
“I fear nonexistence. I fear that one day, I will simply not be. That the legacy I have left has turned to dust, and my impact on the universe was but a ripple in the pond and now the pond has stilled again.”

Do you like fire, earth, air or water?
Mica A
\\
“I can survive a lot longer on water than any of those other ‘elements’. Wait. Shit, I lied, I can’t survive without air. I’m changing my answer, it’s air.”

Mica B
\\
“It is said that the classical four elements were a concept first theorized by Empedocles. I do not favour any of these outdated ‘elements’ more than another, but the one most pertinent to my immediate survival is air, so that is the one I will choose.”

What is more important: the ends or the means?
Mica A
\\
“The ends more than the means, but still, this question is kinda black and white-ing. Fuck, that’s not the right word. Dividing the two until there’s only one or the other. Whatchamacallit. … Moving on. It’s a stupid question because both are important.”

Mica B
\\
“I know this is not meant to define these two categories as the sole options in this line of inquiry, but I would almost like to call this an instance of the false dilemma fallacy. Both of these aspects are essential to any undertaking, but if I must select one, I … would have to say ‘ends’.”

Do you think there is such a thing as evil?
Mica A
\\
“Not in people, but some get damn close. … Even in the worst people, it’s hard to imagine that they’ve done nothing that makes their existence even a little worthwhile. In events though? Sure. Genocide is pretty evil. So is war. Actions too. Abuse, slavery, putting ketchup on rice. Disgusting.”

Mica B
\\
“Depending on the definition of evil one subscribes to, I may have a different answer for each of them. But to answer the question, I will use my own interpretation of the word. Evil is the absence of good, where good is preferred conduct. Of course, preferred conduct is subjective, so I will speak as though everyone aligns with my own values. I believe there is an infinitesimal chance a person has done no good or evil throughout their life, so a person is unlikely to be described with the word ‘evil’. On the other hand, events and actions can be evil as per the description of the word. Genocide and war are examples of this.”

What pain do you hide away from others?
Mica A
\\
“Trauma, like everyone else in this unit. I’m not gonna drop my hoo-boo so tragic life story on a bunch of people who have enough of their own shit to deal with. … It’s just about family, anyway. Nobody wants to hear about family drama when you got war vets and homicides in your history. I mean, not a single person died in mine. Even if I got close. But what am I gonna say, ‘I almost died, so I got it bad too? Listen to me, pretty please?’”

Mica B
\\
“I would not hide away my pain. It is an action that serves only to protect my illusory sense of pride, which I do not find worthy of taking precedence over my well-being. After all, I am not a medical professional. … That said, I am unsure if my other self is hiding any mental ‘pain’ since I cannot retrieve any real episodic memories past a certain point in time.”

Can people change?
Mica A
\\
“Yeah? Humans grow as they age, don’t they? Oh, wait, you meant like … mind-wise? Sure, that’s called a hypocrite.”

Mica B
\\
“Yes, most living organisms change as they age. If one speaks about change as the opposing force to the misguided notion of fixed mindsets, I would still say that they do. During the first shifts in established attitudes, a person may be called a hypocrite, but as it progresses, it will soon become their new ‘normal’.”

What do you dream of?
Mica A
\\
“I dunno, artificial sheep maybe? I don’t really remember that sort of thing. But if you mean like dish-type wreams—wish-type dreams, then … having a normal brain. That would be nice, yeah.”

Mica B
\\
“I do not believe this question is asking about the sensations occurring in my mind during REM sleep, but I shall answer as if it is also requesting such to cover all bases. I do not dream, or at the very least, I do not remember dreaming. I am not certain if I even fall asleep, incomplete as I am. Any aspirations and ambitions I have relate to a single goal: repairing the damage caused to my psyche and removing all unnecessary portions that hinder my growth.”
MISC
Music
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Gallery
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  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    hui fen
    full name
    Hui Fen Yan
    age
    26
    gender
    female
    sexuality
    asexual
    occupation
    A-Gen Recall Operative
    Biostatus
    Human (synthmod)
    weapons specialist
    nicknames.
    Victoria— and don’t you try anything else.

    skills.
    Well-versed in just about any type of firearm, knife, and explosive; knows how to operate basically anything she's giving out, inventive, quick-thinking, fluent in Mandarin and English.

    inventory.
    Brass knuckles, pocket-sized tool kit with the basics, a pistol, road spikes, a pair of tricked-out binoculars, her flask, smoke grenades.

    synthmods.
    Her left eye has been replaced entirely by a syntenic one that is able to see in the dark, and detect movements that her normal eye would not be able to.

left


"Do you think there is such a thing as evil?"​
Victoria snapped shut the notebook she had been writing in, covered in scribbles and notes and diagrams, of potential sharp turns and modifications she was eager to try out next. The mask clicked on, the grin splitting her wide— a touch too wide, making it appear strained and out of place, certainly fake. Her eyes shifted next, zeroing in on the individual questioning her, the gaze sharp and heavy and flickering up and down once, twice, as if to take in the full figure as quickly as possible. Her face seemed taunt in that initial second of registering someone speaking to her before it smoothed out, before the grin settled into something more akin to a genuine signal of enthusiasm, as her eyes settled as well on the face that was asking her the question.

“What kinda fucking question is that?” she asked, her tone dismissive and derisive. Her tongue emerged from between her teeth, running across her upper lip as if to buy herself some time, rearranging her scrambling thoughts to offer an answer that would not reveal too much about her, that would keep her cards as close to her chest as they always were. The cover would remain on, despite the initial surprise, never quite slipping away, always ready for her to seize at a moment’s notice. “You only have evil if you have good, yeah? You only fly if there is gravity to defy, you only got light because it contrasts with the dark— etcetera, etcetera,” she declared, standing up now and putting her hands on her waist, twisting from one side to another as she stretched, groaning as she did so.

“Or I assume that’s what the philosophers say, yeah?” she added, the grin still plastered on, hammered on like the Cheshire grin it was. She tilted her head as she examined the asker, her eyes narrowing for a moment as she tried to take in their posture, their figure— their purpose, their reason, what do you want from me?

“Evil,” she said, the features of her face dipping into a far more relaxed state, downturned and heavy, “is a subjective thing anyways. What can I do about evil but accept that it exists?” In a flash, the smile was back, the moment of potential-almost-real connection wiped away easily. “Come ask me what I want for dinner next time,” she said with an airy hand, moving away as if pulled to her next assignment, turning away from the asker, her voice loud and sharp. “At least that question would matter.”
 
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img-4087-1657229563.jpg
Rory is a strong-built man, with rough, tempered features. His eyes are a steely, almost lifely blue color, overarched with large bags under his eyes. He is tainted by cigarette smoke, most notably having yellow, overgrown fingernails and its accompanying stench. He is typically wear his armor, which encompasses his chest and is plated on both his cheeks and a band across his head. His typical attire is an ARO jacket of tattered, unreplaced leather, a white t-shirt and black leather combat boots.
[Name]
Rory Havertz

[Origin]
Human

[Role]
Professional ARO

[Age]
41

[Gender]
Cis Male

[Sexuality:]
Bisexual

[Height]
5’11”

[Weight]
320 lbs (with leg synthmod)

[Body Mods]
<Liver and Kidney Transplant (scars)> Unbeknownst to most, only noticeable from two large incisions on both the front and back of his body.

<Full Sleeve Tattoo of a Phoenix on his Right Arm>

<Military Grade Armor> This armor is designed to withstand most types of firepower, however he does have areas not covered by it, including parts of his head, eyes and mouth. Overtime, this armor can be broken down and certain guns/bullets can pierce it, such as snipers and shotguns.

<Leg Synthmods> To accommodate for his massive weight due to his armor, Rory has implanted two leg synthmods that allow him to move as if he was wearing nothing at all. The legs have a few weaknesses, such as requiring diligent maintenance and their lack of precision.


[Personality]
Rory has a friendly personality that may overshadow his love for violence and competition. He is supportive of those beneath him and is not afraid to spend quality time with the ARO rookies. He enjoys taking charge, seemingly feeding off the danger and violence he puts himself through. Whether it is from experience or a developed apathy, one of Rory’s most treasured virtues is his ability to make difficult, even amoral decisions if it benefits his team. He is excellent on his feet, however does not operate well under a structured plan.

Despite his friendliness and his desire to be seen as an “uncle figure” amongst the team, Rory may come off awfully distant to his human companions. He has very little interest in romance, only the act of sex. Apart from going to bars after work, he does not spend a lot of time with people and sticks to himself most of the time. He seems to also have two smiles, one when he is with the rookies and another, euphoric one when he is having sex or in danger.

He also has no issue conversing with many of the a-gen models, and despite his ease in killing them, issues no true hatred.

Protective - Fierce - Violent - Apt Judgement - Jaded - Friendly - Distant

[Background]
Rory was your typical Chicago street kid. Presiding through the debauchery of the shadowy side in Chicago, Rory was largely shielded from its fate-sewing talons by his older brother. Their mother died when the boys were still young, leaving Rory's older brother to raise the troublesome kid. He taught him everything: from driving a car to sex. Rory's brother was his father figure and at times, his rock. Despite the care he received, Rory remained bitterly in his brother's capable shadow.

While the city's streets did not tie Rory's string, it was instead his brother's prestige as police officer. Friends and family expected Rory to follow in his brother's footsteps, and with no other options, Rory was inducted into the police force. He was far from a paragon, hated by his colleagues and prone to spouts of violence. On several occasions, he would steal guns from the armory and show off to potential sexual partners. Without his brother's word, Rory would have been expelled from the police academy dozens of times. Yet, despite his efforts to fail, Rory was granted the position on the police force.

The jealousy he had for his brother had begun to spiral. He turned to alcohol to drown out his sorrows, which began to hurt him as an officer. The final straw came when he crashed a police vehicle after sneaking alcohol onto his shift. When his partner began to confront him on this mistake, Rory beat him to a pulp and ran away from authorities. When he was finally caught, a prison sentence was on the table, which was only staved off from his brother. Rory, however, would be expelled from the police force.

Money problems would plague Rory through his early twenties. It eventually came to the point where he began selling his organs to pay for his alcoholism. It started with one of his testicles, which eventually turned into a kidney.

Sickness would plague him after the loss of his kidney. His habits had him on death’s door, and he had little money for treatment. One day, the box he slept in was visited by a guest, Rory. For the first time in months, Rory had felt sober, curbed by the anger he felt by being visited not by scorn, but rather a kind hand from his brother. This anger drove Rory into his new life. He virtually disappeared from all friends and family, even quitting alcohol and using the money he got from his brother to repair his organs. Despite his notoriety as a police officer, Rory impressed in his combat abilities. Despite his past of discipline, Rory would be offered a position as an ARO, where his reckless nature could be utilized.

As a rookie, Rory excelled and he comfortably moved up in the organization. As the years went by, he became ever more an integral part of the team.

His life became comfortable.

Street kid - Brother issues - Alcohol - Prosperity as an ARO

[Skills]
<Street Skills>
Rory understands how to communicate with those outside the ARO, manage himself in rough scraps and the layout of Chicago and the best places to eat and drink.

<Charisma>
As a leader and shot caller, Rory is extremely capable. He makes hard decisions easily, and some (mostly not) might say he’s charming.

<Athleticism>
Rory is strong and fast due to his years of toll and experience. He prefers to kick doors down rather than opening them.

<Professional>
Rory has largely met his peak as a ARO. His decision making is almost next to none, and his ability with weaponry is beyond what one would expect from the prestigious ARO position.

[Inventory]
<Shotgun> Is a modern, military grade shotgun. It has poor collateral control and shreds through armor and infrastructure alike.
CARNAGE.png

<ARO Pistol> A standard issue pistol used by most police forces in America. Used for close to medium range protection.
DR5%20NOVA.png

<Nausea Medication>

<A box of Cigarettes>

<ARO Essentials (Badge, Further ID)>



[Moveset]

“Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“If it bends, it breaks.”

“Brawn over Brain”

What separates somebody from somebody else

Rory's blood kissed leather boots slicked across the floor, dragging with it a slosh of gore and violent residue. Skull fragments shattered like glass under the ARO's boot, accompanying the bitter whimpers of a helpless A-gen model. It shuddered like a human, grasping at the hole in his skull implanted by a haphazard blast of his shotgun. What should have been a near miss turned into a gruesome head wound from a stray pellet, causing parts of brain oozing out like candle wax.


Rory pursed his lips, maybe as a rookie this would have made him queasy, but at his age he felt it no more than another part of his job. He did not hesitate, drawing his pistol against its head, examining pink juices that spouted from the wound. They looked human, apart from the A-gen's visage, which only struggled pointlessly as Rory's finger pinched the trigger.


"We're really not so different when it comes down to the details." He milked the words for their honey, drawing a hoarse laugh from his throat. "What separates me from you, is results. That is, I am superior. Survival of the fittest; that's when you truly see the differences between man and its imposters."

The muzzle flashed.
 
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name. mephitis
nickname rat
age. thirty
gender/pronouns. non-binary they/them
sexuality. pansexual
origin. androgenesid
role. wartime model genesis 101
role. fish out of water

appearance.

Five foot, medium length black hair that is half the time thrown back into a ponytail to expose an undercut, most of the time sporting a gas mask and tactical gear.

personality.
+ Driven, tenacious, organized, flirtatious, extroverted
- Aggressive, calculating, lacking empathy, fucking losing their mind

Mephitis is true to the personality of wartime a-gens; cold, aggressive and impulsive. That part of them hasn’t changed, and if anything it has got more unrestrained. They need to pretend to be human - they need to - but instinct is hard to quell and they are constantly teetering on the edge of losing their mind. Seeing the world burn is such an addicting feeling, but curiosity wins out - all they have known is their job, but what if there is more out there? If not driven insane by the wish to create a blood-bath in front of those who wronged them, they hope to discover more to life that there is currently. To laugh more genuinely then they do now - which they are always doing - and find those who see purpose in the life of an a-gen no longer needed and wanted.

brief background.

The war was one thing. An a-gen with a skill in explosives and chemicals was a valuable asset to the frontlines, but that is as far as their use went. After the war - it was be decommissioned or continue to work and truth be told, they didn’t think much about their answer to that question, and so for the larger part of their time after the war they worked in the wastelands. Maybe that is where they should have stayed, but curiosity got them moving, and they began to search for a way into the city.

A way in they found. It was a shady under-the-table sort of deal. Through a friend of a friend connection that led them to being offered papers and a way into the city, but under one expectation. They’d allow themselves to become a lab rat - an experiment - and they agreed.

Hell, they wish they hadn’t. Or maybe they don’t. Regret is a finicky thing, and their memories are as all over the place as their ability to have emotions is. Released after their experiments from the labs, they at least had papers now in the city. A new identity yet no idea of how to navigate the world with their newfound lack of sanity.

Currently living in a scrapyard, they offered up their skills to the police force with the hope that digging their claws into the ladder of power - they’d be able to claw their way up to meet Cortex members and ask them some damn questions.

What is your most treasured possession?

Mephitis begins to laugh, a piercing sound that teeters on the end of becoming hysterical. What is it about the question that seems funny to them? They don’t voice it out loud right away, but after a moment they quiet with steady breaths. “I wish I had more treasured possessions but items…they break. You hold something too tightly, and it crumbles to dust in your hands."

They bring out a worn notebook, the cover with ridges in it from the amount of times their fingers have run over it, dug into it, and they tap it. “This I do have value for. For if my mind is not a place I can use to sort my thoughts, pen and paper is yet to fail me. It is where things make sense.” Underneath their mask it is not clear if they are smiling, but there is mirth in their eyes. As if asking questions on what they value and what they deem treasured - is a joke.

 
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