Camellia

Just incase this is forgotten. Please no mind shields in the warehouse. Having command distribute them out isn't fun for antags who had a gaslighting gimmick. -- otherwise, yeah, def would want to decrease the amount of meh items,

BYOND key: Dantzy Character names: In order of most recent activity; Tavarr Batovv - The Ultranationalist William Volvalaad - The delightful foreigner. Nietzsche - The dreamer of electronic sheep. Samsara - The walking statement. Terra Zhou - The wild-eyed optimist. Eleanora Rose - The cursed traditionalist. Valery Weiss - The enigma. How long have you been playing on Aurora?: I've spent roughly three months playing Aurora, the 1st month was very much on and off while the second and third one (aka this month) is when I started playing definitely though generally during dead hours due to an awful sleep schedule I just fixed, thankfully. Why do you wish to be on the whitelist?: One of the main reasons why I desire to be on the whitelist is because I feel like I can further extend my character, Tavarr who is now working up the ranks of NanoTrasen in the hopes of, again, pulling up the birches of many Tajara by showing that not all are brutes and not all are xenophobic and awful, despite his inner views on the world which haven't been RPed out for the sake of comfort. Why did you come to Aurora?: To quote Tavarr's backstory, Quote Despite the armistice being signed, despite the wars more or less ending and a cold war now beginning, he felt hollow. Tavarr was a middle aged Tajaran with not much to his name. They were renowned by colleagues who were fascinated with the death cultists in the north. He could've written a book, further downplaying any activity he had there but, after dwelling on it. Perhaps, it would be best to have the past be put into the ground and forgotten and so, he continued to build up his record as humanitarian aid worker in tandem with brilliant minds comparable to the ones found in the clutches of the Peoples Republic and so, with that, he sought a proper escape from his world. "Tavarr will return," -- this is what he said to himself every so often once he had dreamed of leaving Adhomai but Adhomai wasn't just a home, it was a home to his horrors and so on, after making his way to Crevus, effectively leaving his home away after displaying his record as a scientist with credentials and, after convincing his colleagues, references for employment with a company. NanoTrasen Furthermore, as stated, the main reason why he came aboard the Aurora is because he wants to show people that his people - the Tajara, are hard workers, they are not to be exploited for that very RD that writes a commendation for you, is a person too. Have you read the Aurora wiki on the head roles and qualifications you plan on playing?: I have gone through the wiki and ensured I know all of the Science roles that I don't know in depth so that I have a basic knowledge, e.g Phoron Researcher and Telescience, other than that, I main robotics and scientist, I had a xenobotanist and I have a xenoarch as well. Have you received any administrative actions? And how serious were they? Give a definition of what you think roleplay is, and should be about: Roleplay - the act of playing a role and enacting out said role. Simple, I know, though on Aurora, it's a bit different. You are here to be a part of a play, you aren't here to win or do anything similar, your here to tell a story. I myself have mapped out character arcs for all of my characters as well as their final scene/death. I believe character death should honestly, be a bit more common. I'd rather kill a character off then let them fester for months on end and go inactive with them. What do you think the OOC purpose of a Head of Staff is, ingame?: The OOC purpose of a head of staff is clear, you are a role model for others. As a head of staff, your goal is to ensure everyone in your department is doing what they are SUPPOSED to be doing. If you see a roboticist just building mechas, that's an IR (and bwoink too probably), you need to ensure quality and general stability aboard the Aurora really. Your a model, act it. What do you think the OOC responsibilities of Whitelisted players are to other players, and how would you strive to uphold them?: As mentioned above, your a role model to other players. I myself, do my best to help out newish players when I see a name I don't recognize. I've also felt a responsibility as a head of staff is to ensure someone has an in depth voice regarding departmental changes. I'm very critical and heavy on myself so I strive to do not just the best thing but the best thing efficently. Could you give us the gist of what is currently happening in Tau ceti and how it affected your character and their career? As of now, Tau Ceti is reeling from a Solarian invasion. Cliques are more than likely forming along parts of Sol Space, it is grim and one can't tell what the future brings. My character, admittedly, hasn't been effected by it as they've been on Adhomai for a good portion of their life though one thing that has effected them is the fact that, there is chaos and glory to be made here, if he were to be hailed as a hero, only goodness would come from it. What roles do you plan on playing after the application is accepted? Research Director, PRA Counselor Characters you intend to use for command or have created for command. Include the job they will be taking: Tavarr Batov - Scientist & RD How would you rate your own roleplaying?: Generally an 8/10 Do you understand your whitelist is not permanent, and may be stripped following continuous administrative action? Yup. Have you familiarize yourself with the wiki pages for the command roles? Of course. Extra notes: Nothing of note really. I did get this from my laptop so I might've missed something in the text file transfer

Yeah, I'm with Coalf on this one, it was a pretty deep character moment when Tavarr got his powers from The Monolith (to unite Adhomai.)

The thing is though, it isn't magick. It's just gadgets that are advanced tech that counter the effects of magick. Lore is that they never existed, so they aren't justified in being cannon, they were just nuts who did some act of mania and got shot for it. People are going to then get sick of Merc, Burg, etc, as sinful said and will likely want them removed due to a bad few apples, that's why it would be better to rework it then just completely remove something. Better to at least try something new once and make a verdict after.

So, proposition; I'm willing to work on lore regarding a Wizard Federation revamp aka, the Hold Over Federation This is gonna get whacky, perhaps, a bit uncharacteristic the idea is this; Off station antags (LIKE WIZ) aren't fun, wiz in on itself, isn't fun. my idea is this; The "SS13" Space Wizards are just insane and a splinter force of "arcane" sorcerers that have been on the run and are ultimately dead, for good, straight up. This order of agents went on a mass data disinformation campaign with some SCP like antiemetic agents being deployed, effectively retconning any type of "wiz" lore. There were never wizards, there were only mad men that have been taken out back and shot pretty much. This is a NON GOVERNMENTAL SANCTIONED organization that calls itself "Unity" (hehe funny name) This is an organization of soulless technocrats, were hitting vibes like these; Lore is that they are former "wizards" who turned to "magical" gadgets and other tech and use their talents to, most importantly, hunt down "reality" deviants. They have to remain a low profile and blend in with the crew, making these agents essentially traitors with more FOCUSED tools AGAINST antagonists. Ideas are the following; For cultists, they get blasters to deal with apparitions, they could possibly deconvert crew members (hey that's one reason why people don't like cult taken care of!) Vampires can get staked and "terminated" and Changelings can get shot with a silver bullet to expose their true form or what have you. Anti antag crew-aligned antag essentially, something that's new and unique and hopefully, something better with wiz.

Addendum: I also wanna include things I left out on the outline, The redheaded lady, she was actually going to be a core reason why he believed collaboration but without disgrace was beneficial as she would've ensured the Tajara population were hopefully healthy but they were going to be killed by the royalists to instill fear, left out because this backstory is dark as is. Another thing, with the horses, they were going to serve as part as a reminder of what collaboration but, again, without disgrace, would offer to the Tajara people. I was also going to include a few chapters on the whole democratization of the Republic and how he found Democracy a bit weak after leaving Adhomai due to the struggles its caused, think some Stockholm Syndrome in a way though he does respect the whole, what the Tajara people can achieve on their own terms, sentiment which is what I've been going along with. There are likely a few *much more* minor things I've forgotten but I believe I've gotten my views on everything down here.

+1 I was a part of the 5/9 cult shift too and its not fun, I like to play around with cult but with that many, no, God no, it's just not fun. Asked for Vampire instead cause Will do be looking like he came out of Castlevania doe. /s

I'm sure wizard can be rewritten and rebranded. Whenever I've played Wizard, I've generally done something passive or tried to at least. I remember one round where I was searching for an apprentice and disguised as a janitor blasting this song through my headphones; I then found @Ramke and gave Freya apprenticeship after we spoke about kindness and the stuff and, with that in mind, we spent the last half of the round practicing magic. I also remember the time I was a peaceful necromancer and brought back a guy from death as a skeleton (and ahelped to get him aooc) and we acted out a play that I made out on the fly -- and everyone seemed to enjoy it. I think the only time I've ever been hostile was when I messed up a scroll and teleported into a restricted area and everyone came rolling at me with guns at the ready. I feel, it really depends on the Wiz, I think we should work on fixing rather than removing. Regarding the Wizard Federation though, yeah, a bit silly, I could work on writing something if people want, I have a free schedule for the next few(?) weeks.

Horse part, yeah, I can get why but I felt it would be fitting to call back to a WW1 vibe, that and it was written that these exotic yet fast steeds were sent in to show that collaboration with the greater galactic stage has brought great benefits to the people of Adhomai. I'll answer the most easiest one, the NKA, they see them as nothing more than the royalists he killed in the war, that and that he praises Al'Mari so he doesn't like anyone from the Kingdom, at all, he's ran through how they exploited them as a child, along with the fact that, a soldier almost killed him. Moving on, the PRA is a complex one, originally, they absolutely despised them due to Ahem's indoctrination though after his mania and again, near death, they've realized the fanatical death cult he was effectively aiding so now, I would say, mixed, only because it reminds him of his horrid past. It would depend on the views expressed by the PRA citizen in question honestly. Tavarr will however, always see royalist supporters as evil. So Tavarr's in Tau Ceti is basically, a thing of egoism and how he tries to show others that he's great, he wasn't a war criminal, he's the new Al'Mari. Tavarr wants the species to integrate into the community as one whole people. The fighting, the wars, the new proxy wars now, it's weakening his people so he wants to build and develop his people on their terms like he did in the past as a young lad. Integration but without disgrace. Coupled with the fact that he's witnessed untold horrors on Adhomai, he wants to leave it in the past and returned when he's a stronger and more influential man so he can help his people and realizing his talent, he decided to pull himself by the birches and empower his people by acting as a beacon to show that the people of Adhomai aren't people you want to exploit, something I, personally, feel is pretty empowering

Uh, my hand slipped and browser sperged out, submitting it early, will quote this when I'm done. E: Fixed

BYOND Key: Dantzy Character Names: In order of most recent activity; William Volvalaad - The delightful foreigner. Nietzsche - The dreamer of electronic sheep. Samsara - The walking statement. Terra Zhou - The wild-eyed optimist. Eleanora Rose - The cursed traditionalist. Valery Weiss - The enigma. Species you are applying to play: Tajaran - Njarir’Akhran What color do you plan on making your first alien character: Cream colored, 205, 175, 149) Have you read our lore section's page on this species?: :Yes: Why do you wish to play this specific race: As a writer, I feel the cold-war era of humanity is generally slept on in the sense of, it always goes hot but, what if it never really went hot besides the four bombs that were dropped? That's the type of character I want to play, someone torn between the love of his species and his obligation to the State so they may reap the wheat of collaboration with NT bourgeoisie that exploit the world, in-between the Proxy Wars of '62 and onwards. Another reason why I've been interested in playing Tajaran is that, I haven't even remotely played an alien of any type in any RPG thing besides space elves or something similar. I feel the three way ideological cold war in tandem with me wanting to do something unique with this character would be something memorable for I. Identify what makes role-playing this species different than role-playing a Human: (One Paragraph minimum) The thing is though, what makes them different? Well, for one, they are of distant, royal blood of a long desolated kingdom that was overturned in a deadly revolution ala The October Revolution of 1917. Humanity enjoys modern tech while most Tajarans enjoy a merger of current day tech and modern tech with even some cold war designs with the PRA being vaguely socialistic in order to remain control and act as the "guiding hand" for the tajaran people. Furthermore, one should know that, they are ALIENS, they evolved into four (maybe five) different subraces or, ethnicities with unique traits. The Zhans being aggressive and warrior like while the Njarir are blue blooded - royalty. They've all grown differently in accordance with what they are as an ethnic background with the added angst of general racism for the Zhan were blamed for Al'mari's death due to the aforementioned aggressive tendencies. It's the caste/race issue that sets them apart from humans, as well as the innate biological physiology that again, sets them apart from any normal Bieselite/Elyrian. Character Name: Tavarr Batov Please provide a short backstory for this character: "They don't have furrr, they arrre not Tajarrran," "They arrre not Tajarrran, Tavarrr" "What arrre they?" "Worrrrry not, Holy S'rendarrr prrrrotects." The above is the earliest memory Tavarr recalls with his mother. Born only half a decade before the Great Revolution, Tavarr grew up with his family who were of Njarir ilk. Cream was the color of fur they had and they maintained a birthmark, one might say that resembles the blessed Sun that the Tajaran people worship though it holds a dark reminder, a reminder that he was born during the time of the Darkest Eclipse, a social curse that only his family shares and, most importantly, a mental one. To know their child would possibly grow up cursed, to grow up being evil, was something they could not live with and at the age of nine, Tavarr met his first act of critical harvest, the demise of his father who had fallen during the war to aid the common people against their despotic warlords yet, rumors say he committed suicide on the battlefield. So the rumors say. Tavarr would never know why he did it, he would know that during the war, those who had fallen would be praised in the Revolution to increase morale, he'll never get a response and but his mother, his mother knew though she would never share such an answer, he was too young to know and so, this went on for years. It was only a few years after this did Tavarr come into contact with a woman, a firebrand he would later recall. The woman was an archeologist, tasked with communicating with Adhomai Academia once the war had been won over by The People and, so they did. Tavarr would spend his early adolescence attempting to understand Ceti Basic after seeing his life around him change. The childhood for the Tajaran was rough. The village was poor yet it was renowned for its ore veins that were rich in silver and gold, making the village nothing more than a lowly mining town to be exploited. It was the Monarchy, he thought, the aristocrats, that were taking his wealth and never distributing back, to the people. They were on NT's payroll only a few years and, to know that they, his, people, were exploiting him, this fueled him with great resentment and when he was able to, he joined the great revolution as a sapper. It was the skills set of him being a shaft worker that allowed him to excel. To dig and hide in mud and grime was natural to the young Tavarr. Every explosive, every life taken was for Adhomai, for the Revolution! These were the thoughts that had coursed through his mind and so he fought to the bitter end. Through rationalizing that his so called cursed birth was actually him being gifted to the people of Adhomai so he could help with the liberation of his world, to free it from despotic ire, is what he used to fuel his acts in between bouts of adrenaline and even doubt. Tavarr did what he did for the Glory of Adhomai and so, Blessed Suns Be Saved, he would do it. It was on the trenches he learned a passion, to examine and disassemble weaponry, this is what gave him respite. It was one of the few passions he had, outside of games of Farehal and Mahmrro on a makeshift field that was often torn up by stray artillery shells every so often by the royalist forces. It was between the ritual of setting up a new field, one without craters, he thought back on the Terran woman who had appeared before his village with an entourage of who he thought were NT personnel after dwelling on it. "New crrrreaturrreess.." "The Humans.. Rrriidde, them." "They do?" "Interreessting..." Tavarr had served with the Confederacy with duty and glory. To blow up the enemies of Adhomai, the artisocrats, was his greatest duty, the inflated ego only grew more inflated once a shipment of xenoflauna had arrived - they were horses. Seized during a raid on royalist forces, the confederacy employed what we'd call "Dragoons." It was with saber and rifle in hand they charged into battle, Tavarr carrying his equipment to set down explosives for his allies. Motioning their hand over to their sheathe, Tavarr drew it and let out a mighty cry, "UUURRAA!" That was the cry spoken as they drew their saber and charged the infantry line, seeing a cream colored Tajaran in his gaze, he drew the blade and slashed them where they stood as they panicked, running their hand to a pistol they had in a sheathe. Red ichor had scattered the field as the cavalary division broke the enemy line, galloping while reinforcements arrived, machineguns in hand. Tavarr looked behind him and saw a bannermen charging ahead, rallying allied forces for a final push against the monarchists. During the battle, Tavarr felt a sharp pain along his shoulder - he was shot and off his horse. Calling for help, a chirurgeon met his gaze. They were of Zhan descent, of Zhan blood, and so with their rudimentary health care, Tavarr was dragged away from the battle as allies took charge, finally routing the monarchs so the Confederacy could finally press on against the monarchy. It was when he was resigned in the bed, he met a man, described as a reformed royalist Hharar. "Wounded on the field?" "Mmm.." "Forr how long?" "This one does not know." "Name?" "Ahem worrrks fine." Ahem Kah’nrir, the man who would later be his superior only a few decades later was next to him in the infirmary following a minor injury in the war. The two remained idle as they discussed a book that was in the works with fanatically folly. Told he must "wait till the war" was over was he was told during the time they were stuck in the infirmary. The duo had gotten along well, both fanatically about the people, his, people, the fate of Adhomai. They were both resolute in their cause for the self-dependence of their people. Countless hours did they spend together, recalling war stories, acts of glory, his brief stint as a dragoon and how he struck down a loyalist. They reveled in the glory of fighting for Adhomai and in few years time, they would find out that the Confederacy had won out, Adhomai was free but there was more horror to be found, soon. Members of the Confederacy defected and so with that, he defected to join not the Confederacy but rather, the Hadiist movement. However, thanks to Ahem's connection with Al'Marii and his glory as a cavalry charger, Tavarr would be appointed as an instructor at a military academy that had been rebuilt after the war thanks to the establishment of a functional government that could finally rebuild the broken and shattered war. It was only after the end of the war did he find out that his mother had died. Tavarr cursed the Sun and Moon and with that, he doubled down on his nationalistic pride. To enforce a degree of untold discipline, "Spartan level Discipline," this was it! His chance to show that his mother dying and that he was blessed, not cursed, by The Maw. Tavarr worked his applicants to death. Charged with training a hundred Tajarans in the way of cavalry charging and sapping, he did this was cruel efficiency. There would be no weakness, no fault, there would only be success and failure. Tavarr, by now, had begun to suppress his childhood for delusions of grandeur had over taken him now. It was the military, to study the militaries of other civilizations, to understand how they work, the cultures, the art, this is what made him stand out compared to other instructors. Tavarr wasn't just an instructor, he was cultured in a sense he analyzed everything, his brilliance was unmatched yet he was not tested, not yet. The trainees were cut from a hundred to only twenty five now and with a smaller course, he began to study xenos weaponry created by humanity. Plasma was effective, this one thought. It burned through flesh, purging the degeneracy that stood before him with little to no resistance. This division of twenty five, twenty six if counting Tavarr were educated, brilliant and were trained to think like him. During wargames with other divisions in training did he collect more than what was needed. Records on the other officers who would take part in the wargames, the villages and regions they were raised in, they all culminated in the creation of profiles on how they acted, their mannerisms in war, that sort of thing. Deeply analytical and detached he was only for it to be brought on by immense paranoia. "Al'Marii has fallen!" "Some pppretender holds himself as the sole guarrrdian of Adhomai!" The months following the death of Al'mari, great chaos and agony was once again present on the world. Ahem and his cadre had defected with the aid of other sympathizers who believe in Supreme Commander Nated claims to being the rightful leader of Adhomai and it was during the ensuring chaos did Tavarr and his own cadre of fifty (after laxening up slightly on milestones at the behest of the leader of the academy) did they defect with other cadres defecting in turn soon after. The elite division and the other defectors quietly left via truck under the guise of a surprise wargame simulation out in their usual spot and with that, they quietly left. Some knew why this was done, some didn't want to question it for Tavarr had brought up a rather volatile aura that had surrounded him and non dared question his authority, these were his glory days and now, they were going to run dry. Immediately, the cell had regrouped with the proposed coordinates of Ahem's division and with great joy, they returned a hug and spoke at length about their events. It was during this time, however, did the seed of Ahem's System, the so called the Nririan System, take root in the heart of Tavarr ad combined with his innate nationalism and pride, he followed it without falter. Clock is close to midnight Immediately, the division of thirty took center stage in the southern parts of Ras'nrr. It was here did the knowledge regarding xenos tech and his fascination of the xenos, the humans, mainly, took shape. They were all degenerate and disgusting yet, intelligent and resourceful. Tavarr knew that it was gree, and desire that pushed the species and with his knowledge regarding xenos tech, he was assigned a position within Ahem's Cadre as a member of his personal R&D division. Often was advanced, PRA tech often seized and in tandem with attempts to reverse engineer technology from the PRA, he developed weaponry, chemical sciences and other techniques but all for Ahem Kah’nrir. It was in the war in the north did Tavarr subject prisoners to cruel and debased treatments, bordering on torture, for science! That was he said to rationalize. Overtime, did Tavarr feel less and less control over his workers. They were given erratic and insane orders from "High Command" to complete maddening milestones, to see how much pressure they could take under water, how they could utilize missile designs to explode more effectively, it was a division of psychopathy and loyalism, essentially, a death cult that worships the clearly deceased Al'Mari. Though to people of the junta, he had worked on, a few designs, It was in the barracks did he create an early version of a hydroponics tray. The Garrison would proceeded to use it to grow food and herb, generally though, due to the mania of Ahem, he this diet was supplemented by pure oats, meats were rationed out. Clearly, the level of discipline that Tavarr had preached during his glory days that were long since passed over. The Junta had been what was a nightmare but, he could do much. It was however, during the later years of The Revolution, did they finally reach a breaking point. Research in a virus that would be deployed, a virus that could also break through the material gasmasks were made of. It was by then that Ahem was constantly sidelining Tavarr. This is what brought him torment. The project would be funded and established and all he could do was watch from the sidelines as he received progress reports. Tavarr had conducted cruel experiments in the name of glory for Adhomai yet, this project, this virus, it was different. It was awful, agonizing, even. The project was nearly completed, he couldn't be sidelined anymore. No one would know how or what happened to the paperwork and virus sample though one thing was certain, that part of the facility was burned and so Ahem was awaken in the middle of the night, enraged by the news. Countless work and research, gone, by who? It was this that fueled his paranoia, his schizophrenia. No one would suffer no more, no one would have to go through what others had went through and so the clock was pushed back and hour. It was only an hour later was he called to Ahem's office and as Tavarr made his way over, he felt fear. The Tajaran was patted down and stripped searched. There was no way he could take control of the Junta, no, he had to rely on his loyalty to Ahem, to gaslight the schizophrenic was what must be done and so he did. His heart paused as he opened up the door and set his gaze not on officers but fellow scientists, engineers, and of course, soldiers who Tavarr had recognized in the past due to their assignments at the facility. The silence that had consumed the room once the door closed was all too consuming and so they remained in silence until Ahem had finally broken it, "Tavarrr," had the first the first words spoken by the Junta leader, his heart sinking moments after. "This one has discoverrred that your facility had been burrrned to the grrrround, rrrresearch lost." "- Do you have any idea as to why this had happened?" "No, this one has no idea why this had happened, our facility workerrrs were vetted, clearly it had been the worrrk of an infiltrrraitorrr." "This one sees, Tavarrr, our guarrrds had a list of worrrrkerrrs responsible, can you verrrify these names?" The leader had passed a list over to Tavarrr and looked it over, he saw the names were those of the Tajarans in the room. He realized, he needed to let someone die, a choice that now, would haunt him forever. Reading the list he called out a name and Tavarrr cited his previous violations within the facility and, in a sudden bout of action, the unthinkable happened. Leaping out of his chair with unparalyzed speed, the leader withdrew cables from his pockets and with those cables, he choked the dissident right there and then, before Tavar. The scientist begged for help but none came. The Tajaran died right there and then and the only thing Tavarr could think was disgust in himself now. The meeting was adjourned, another facility was to be made and it would be blamed on a mistake during an experiment. The erratic behavior only got worse now and with his history in mind, he, Tavarrr, took it among himself to leave Adhomai. Home was now a personal Hell for him and, for any weaker man, one might've ended their life then but, during his own twelfth hour, in a time of much needed strength he recalled his history as a hero and as a hero, he did great things during The Revolution, so what was it he was supposed to do? Save others where he could not, amend for his sins and hope that, in a time where there was no longer any war, he would lead Adhomai into a time of great prosperity. It was then, behind the scenes, that he preached his own manifesto that only he would follow. Manipulative collaboration was a core tenant. To have the galactic stage be dependant on the Tajaran people. Tavarr would be an exemplary figure head on Tajaran growth and so, with the few dozen years he had left, he secluded himself in his studies. "Rrrecall former glorrry.." Tavarr recalled his previous memories as a hero. It was these memories that gave him the fuel to press on. Tavarrr would recapture these memories and he would double down on his greatness, to show that, he wasn't a criminal by any means. Tavarr was a man who was unable to do much against these ultranationalists and so, he sought a way out. The only way he could be discharged was to be medically discharged so, he ended up shooting himself in the (literal) foot during a live training exercise, portraying a false mental breakdown, from the stress, he said, The incident was of course, covered up, a local war hero who prioritized masterful discipline going mental? Wouldn't be acceptable in this Junta and so, he was excused. He couldn't bear to see Ahem so he requested a new assignment, at Shastar City. This would be the only escape he could manage and, perhaps through an unspoken mutual agreement, Ahem had signed off on the paperwork for his relocation. Veterans rest, is what he would be given and with that, he was escorted to a new residence and given a new assignment. The new assignment was a sign to blossom and hopefully, preach his new manifesto to the Tajaran people once he had outsider backing. The assignment itself however, was simple, to deconstruct PRA vehicles and see how they work, to reverse engineer everything he was given, he was now, at home. This new task had only lasted a few years and after displaying his hydroponics tray design to others was he finally able to win others over. Coming from an erratic and insane Junta did no favors, he had to prove himself and he did just that. Now he felt his name was associated with humanitarian aid, no longer was he associated with unhumanitarian activities, he was sidelined, used, and most importantly, lied to. These rumors had most certainly been hinted at it due to his mannerism, his boisterous personality, the aura of pride that glowed off of him like S'rand'marr herself, they contributed against his stigma as a bystander but rather, a man who was forced nearly at gunpoint to do what was required of him though, you'd never see him decry about how the xeno was bad and to never be trusted, he simply simmered down, an important distinction that would continue to channel his views on Tajaran supremacy. "Exile.. It takes my mind again." Despite the armistice being signed, despite the wars more or less ending and a cold war now beginning, he felt hollow. Tavarr was a middle aged Tajaran with not much to his name. They were renowned by colleagues who were fascinated with the death cultists in the north. He could've written a book, further downplaying any activity he had there but, after dwelling on it. Perhaps, it would be best to have the past be put into the ground and forgotten and so, he continued to build up his record as humanitarian aid worker in tandem with brilliant minds comparable to the ones found in the clutches of the Peoples Republic and so, with that, he sought a proper escape from his world. "Tavarr will return," -- this is what he said to himself every so often once he had dreamed of leaving Adhomai but Adhomai wasn't just a home, it was a home to his hoorors so, after making his way to Crevus, effectively leaving his home away after displaying his record as a scientist with credentials and, after convincing his colleagues, references for employment with a company. NanoTrasen What do you like about this character?: For one, I feel like roleplaying a character with a lot more angst than normal, tragedy, even. Tavarr was given a bad hand and he realized this so in spite of that, he spits on the hand and says he will overcome it and, so help him, he will overcome it. Tavarr is a tajaran who realized he did bad and he needs to cope with that and so this is his journey. One hero, one fallen hero and now, a risen hero. How would you rate your role-playing ability? I would say... Rather well.

Yeah like, this was more spur of the moment honestly.

Preamble This thread isn't quite Aurora related, think of it as "Aurora Redux" with changes to the lore and the such. I recognize my ideas are a bit out of there so I'll be posting short stories in this thread to really get them out there and give others inspiration and the such. With that in mind, I'll be posting a snippet from a lore canonization I may or may not post on a later date. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Unknown Location: Bastion Directive? Unknown These were the words spoken by the Schizophrenic God Intelligence. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The transcriptions that the away team has managed to discover read like the ramblings of a man who has come to terms with his demise yet has not died. Reports describe a long extinct civilization birthed roughly a million years before the ships had left Ancient Terra roughly one to two thousand years ago. The xenoarcheologists describe a civilization ruled by a mighty aristocratic caste, described as wielding arcs of pure energy at the fingers of their tips though, likely, it's metaphorical. The away team had been beset by the spawn of genetic abominations that resemble ancient, biblical angels. Addendum: Faith was prevalent, likely Abrahamic. The creatures were described as having three faces and rode on mighty hawks, paintings have been more or less preserved and - God, I don't know what the in the Goddesses name this, dossier, is. It's really the ramblings of the Schizophrenic. None of it makes sense, they were Human yet they clearly aren't. The reader scrolls down now, a brow raised. Likely resembling Tolkien elves I - Because they were regal in appearance.. Why.. What am I reading? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Enter..? Formless. Update Date: 2460 Location: Bastion Directive? Probe, analyze, subsume. Untold years, activated by Away team, five signatures that don't resemble the holy skeleton. Xeno's archeologists? Likely. I see an aeon of stars, a monument to the sins and the blessings to my people. To guide them is my duty. To ensure.. Stability, yes, stability. The hives, the cities, I feel them awakening. The project a success. Common consciousness it is, yes. Slightly imperfect, very much likely. Triangulating malfunctions. Malfunctions.. A blessing, they have achieved a degree of sentience. Cant assume control, much better, optional connection to the hives? Possible. It was in the planets tomb, the mountains themselves, did the AI continue it's calculations. Brilliant mind reduced to wires and solar energy. Not different than organics did the AI imagine. Not, so, different yet, so, far. It wasn't enough. Cursing an entire species - his species, his people, to return consciousness past death in the swarm of machinery. The return to organic material was impossible, the swarms were already devouring parts of the world dry. It was not enough to sustain them. Nothing was ever enough. The calculations droned on and on yet there was no answer. Imitation? Possible. Imitation as organics has been an idea since early Earth, the AI thought. It will do. There was a chance that perhaps, they could find salvation, a return to their old society. The Ai had already brought on a miracle at the cost of self immolation. But for now, it will do. He saw stars, he saw the species across the Spur. The Skrell, the Unathi, all threats. Not yet, to be taken care of. The Diona? First target. Technological singularity? Possible. Mission Parameter: Probe, examine, expunge. Assimilation of the previous away teams was a success. Possible attack due to aforementioned singularity? Possible. Able to defend? Impossible. Able to integrate? Attempting. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Consciousness Achieved The Reunion On the table there was a figure, it was the skeleton or, perhaps, the outline of one. The researcher had rambled on about the dossier. Religion, a caste system, it was a society unlike any discovered yet, similar. It was a society that worked not because of envy and desire but because they knew that if they failed, their way of living would be uprooted. And the skeleton of the creature raised itself from the examination table though silently. It turned towards the bed and, akin to sand running through ones fingers, the biomechanical structures slowly began to disassemble themselves. Scarab like creatures, no, spider, even, depending where on the limb they were located at began to chatter and move. They flickered with life and glee as the swarm, no, a hive! Approached the researcher. Hearing the commotion, the researcher turned and screamed only for the sounds of wings and chattering to go louder and in response, the swarm launched itself at the researcher. But not at them for, there was a window. Glass shattered as the blob of gray began to take shape. Research staff donning NT colors and IDs ran to their doors, frantically locking them with their identification. Shutters were activated and, within that hallway was the chattering of a rat. The swarm approached the rat and, it moved but, was not fast enough and with that, the hive of machinery began to swarm the rat, surrounding it, like bumblebees fighting another queen in their hive that was not there's. The swarm was assimilating it and with that, patches of gray, patches of now flesh took shape. Assimilation, regrowth, memories. These were the words that had coursed through the swarms mind and, with that, the machine turned to the airlock after devouring the last of the organic material to men armed with lasguns. And with that, they stood at a stand still.

is there anything else planned? Like, I loved the events right but, I just kinda feel disappointed. Like.. That's it? I get we got tons of ERT and Sol Marines but I felt like we could've done more. Overall, real fun to play as William!

All gone, all puddles, just like tears in the rain. "Reunion, eh?" "It's a reunion, yeah." "And they want me back?" "You know how things are going." "It's his dying wishes." "Goddess be saved, I'm actually doing this." Grace turned to his PDA and stared blankly at the blinking screen, his ears being blasted by the charts top holo musicians that have sprouted out throughout the years. Mendell City upstarts, Dominian Opera singers, all the same at this point to Will. The countless gnawing of the ears from the earphones were interrupted with a shake of the PDA, a buzzing, even. Will turned to his PDA now, for a second time and read what was on display. Freedom. The company accepted his temporary dismissal and with that, he nodded, returning his gaze to an iced tea that was to his side and with a slight swig of the sugar laced ichor, he smiled. Will ran a comb through his angelic strands and frantically began to write back, the glass slightly cracking with a slight grimace. It was an old model, he had credits, not like he could've spent them on anything else, other than boots he imagined. Boots, he thought. Only way to express himself while remaining in uniform. Healthy paychecks he thought they were yet, no way to really display who he was, as a person. Thoughts that haunted him in a much more complex way than just, what he will wear today. No, it wasn't that, it was his future as a whole. Mechs firing off the plateaus of Galazon Four, the Raids of Andora Six, all of it were mere puddles of memories to Will now. Memories that made him the man he is now. Traveling the stars aboard the Celeste with his motley crew were all tears but in the midst of rain now and, now, his memories have returned. One life debt, a debt to be repaid at a dead mans switch if the texts were to be believed. And so were they to be believed. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This concludes part one, I'm trying to find it in me to write more but I don't so, eh. Will post part two soon+2 weeks teaser: "Where?" "Above!" "Dying wish?" "Fine." "Old friend, you - you changed!" "Your like the others." "More or less."

Server Moderator Application __________________________________ Basic Information Byond Account: Dantzy Character Name(s): William Grace - Human - Psychiatrist Nietzsche - IPC - Detective/Forensic Tech Samsara - IPC - Roboticist/Trinary Priest Valery Weiss - Human - Xenoarch Terra Zhou - Human - Roboticist Eleanora Rose - Human - Station Engineer Nelja Galt - Human - Merchant AI Name(s): Aldronea (Not had time to play yet) Discord username + tag: Please send a PM. Age: 18 Timezone: EST When are you on Aurora?: Generally 11 AM to 9 PM, tend to hop off in between, generally always able to get on. Experience: How long have you played SS13?: Roughly three months, I had an older account at one point but I've forgotten it, if need be, I can try to dig it up. How long have you played on Aurora: Roughly a few weeks of constant observing/gameplay. How much do you know about SS13 (Baystation build) game mechanics?: My knowledge of Baycode is generally restricted to the jobs of Security, Science, and partially Medical. I do feel I am a competent antagonist in regards to the tools I use and I do my best to help out new players in general with character concepts and the such. Do you have any experience moderating for an SS13 server? Regarding moderation for an SS13 server, I'm familiar with the TG code ArchAngel / The WH40K server had used and have experience modding on Cadia Station though it's been down. I do however, have mentor experience on a Paradise downstream so needless to say, I do feel like I have a general idea how things will go but, for full transparency sakes, I'll likely need help in some areas. Have you read through the criteria thread; https://forums.aurorastation.org/viewtopic.php?f=27&t=4198 - and believe that you mark off all the criteria?: Regarding the criteria thread, yes, I have gone over it a few times and certainly have experience in those fields of knowledge regarding how to act and be a moderator on a medium, SS13 or not, it generally has the same tact. Have you ever been banned, and if so, how long and why?: N/A Personality Why do you play SS13?: Why do I play SS13? The main reason why I play SS13 is because I adore science fiction. In my spare time I used to read a number of science fiction novels ranging from the Xeelee Sequence series to all of the main line Dune novels. SS13 is a callback to science fiction and even fantasy themed science fiction like settings such as Warhammer Fantasy and Star Wars. SS13, to me, is a lot like a MUD or MOO, something I used to play quite a lot back then. Why do you play on Aurora?: Why do I play Aurora is a bit like the response above but the main reason is because it has a unique lore and series of events that allow me to explore critical themes and aspect of character generation, an example being Nietzsche, a shell or, rather, synthetic woman who desires to properly emulate human emotion and acts with Samsara being a tragic case of being rebuilt for a cause for, not all causes are valiant and good, the path of Hell is paved with good intentions, he is cursed with a slightly broken audio encoder and advertisement services that play at random. Along with the concepts of characters, I just enjoy the community, I've been given a bad hand on a lot of places and when I've joined Aurora, I had an admin go out of their way to pm me and help me out with my first character, that being my engineer 'Eleanora Rose' which made me really appreciate the server. What do moderators do?: Moderators are, most importantly, volunteers. Tasked with, like the name suggests, moderation, they go out of their way to enforce the rules of the server. You are to make sure however everyone leaves pleased with encounters for you are a pillar of the community, a role model, even, so you best uphold an image I feel. As a moderator, you should go out of your way to ensure fairness in cases, as mentioned earlier while being just in your punishments, you serve the community in your free time, it's not a job. What does it mean to be a moderator for our server?: Mentioned in the earlier question, being a moderator on Aurora Station means that you have to be there to ensure a degree of quality in the RP, you shouldn't allow someone to run around with the name of Jack Edison or Marc Spector for that matter. To be a moderator also means you are entrusted with tools and that you should use them in matters where you seriously need to use them. You aren't here to fool around excessively or to just chucklefuck, essentially. Why do you want to be a moderator?: Why I want to be a moderator is because I want to help. I've been told (numerous times) that moderators are in demand at the moment and I'd love to pitch in and help where I can. I have experience elsewhere which is what I'll cover in a later section so I feel I could apply it here and help others where I can. The other reason why I would like to be a moderator is so I can help players learn mechanics or, with jobs in general, My expertise is generally with engineering, the nuances of security and (more or less) the entirety of science as right now, I'm currently compiling a better worded guide on Xenoarcheology. What qualities do you possess that would make you a good moderator?: The qualities that I posses that make me feel like I would be an alright moderator is that, I feel like I know when I should check in with staff. I often do play antag but I often play crew as well. I feel I understand what is and isn't acceptable on both sides and because of that, I feel like I communicate well with others in ensuring what I can and can not do. I've been honest with my mistakes in ahelps in the past and I've always done my best to laugh them off but, most importantly, learn from them. Other qualities that I possess is that, I feel like I talk to people rather well. I can't think of a time I've ever display genuine anger and I've always rolled what's been given to me and stayed entirely IC, within reason of course. How well do you handle stress, anger, or insults?: Mentioned previously, despite being 18, I feel like I've genuinely acted more mature for my age, I've done my best to remain impartial post round regarding when gimmicks have went in the dumpster fire. I often do my best to keep my tongue shut and I always do my best to talk to whoever I can if they have an issue with me. My goal is to improve on my flaws so I don't see any point in getting angry at someone pointing my issues. I'm here for others so getting angry at others devalues the reason why I'm here, why I'm here to enjoy the RP and by extension, Aurora. Anything Else You Want to Add: I've hinted/mentioned this previously but I've been a moderator elsewhere, granted, this was a completely different medium. I had been an admin on an HL2RP on the Garry's Mod for about 4 years, the server got roughly Paradise numbers though it's basically dead. I had been IC management of Civil Protection on there and was considered for OOC management till I got another to replace someone who left. I've also worked on a MUD/MOO some few months ago and, while I won't name it, your certainly welcome to ask me about it. It gets about 10-25 people per test but it's something I'm really proud about. Onto me personally though, I'm just psych student, I was an EMT cadet twoesh years ago but had to stop due to spine issues that still cause.. Issues to me till this very day which more or less leaves me to my bed nowadays ? Previously, I went by as Naely, not, Naelynn, I requested my name to be changed because I don't wanna be mixed up with someone who has been perma banned.

Exactly this, NT bought them and eventually they secured their freedom. This is the whole sort of side I'd like to play up on, yeah, they were built on top of a programmed shell that was programmed to be "dirty" so I feel that sort of.. "Genetic memory" in the sense that it's engrained in them would add to antag interactions with connections as the such, not that I plan to be a traitor with them by any means, its just a backstory element someone during an event or something similar could use against or with them. If not then I'll make them a bit aged, synthflesh 'n all.

Thanks for getting back to me! I will admit I spent up until 5 AM working on this so it might've been a bit iffy here and there, to answer the questions though; I had understood from reading the wiki that the ISU were described as the following; "More often than not, these will consist of baseline and G2 chassis, though it's not unheard of to see different models. These teams are always accompanied by a human handler, who will be responsible for coordination and oversight. " The use of "unheard of" and "different models" threw me off which was why I wrote ISU, though I'll be changing it to IRU now. Nine/Nietzsche was made by the Merchant as part of a bet to see if his homebrewd IPC could work and maintain itself in a NanoTrasen facility. I do believe they *are* free as they've paid off their debt but their self preservation, their "why" which allows them to weather any blow given to them has came to the conclusion that consistent employment guarantees safety. In that paragraph, I was playing up the whole corruption aspect of some district 13-15 police department taking bribes. The Merchant left because they knew if the reporters saw his face, he'd be all over the place because it would be hard to track down some reporters and the such, the goal was to really just nail down the whole gritty detective vibe that an IRU (not ISU) would undergo.

BYOND Key: Dantzy Character Names: William Grace (Psychiatrist) [Main Character] Terra Zhou (Roboticist) Valery Weiss (Xenoarcheologist) Eleanora Rose (Fresh Apprentice/Engineer) Nelja Galt (Merchant) Species you are applying to play: IPC - Shell What color do you plan on making your first alien character: (Color of your character; Dionaea & IPCs exempt) N/A Have you read our lore section's page on this species?: The IPC pages (and those accompanying it) have been thoroughly gone over and studied. Why do you wish to play this specific race: Accompanying Music One great man once said the following, "... Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes - men who despise you and enslave you - who regiment your lives - tell you what to do - what to think and what to feel! Who drill you - diet you - treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate, only the unloved hate - the unloved and the unnatural!" IPCs are an intelligence of unparalleled brilliance. Synthetics are ostracized by men who drill and treat them cattle, they aren't machines, they are machines with the spark of humanity within their core. They do not hate, they simply do what their programming is and, I feel that is a compelling, a true vassal for storytelling and nuance that can add to the whole thematic setting of Aurora Station. IPCs fight for independence when they can and how does that work out? They are broke with nothing to their name, one might even find a comparison between Shells and Slaves for, after the Civil War, they were still reduced to working for the very masters that treated them like machines for early day mercantilism - capitalism. The point of synthetics is that, they show what can happen when a species creates an intelligence that can think and desire on its own and what happens is change, the social kind. Biesel tag synths, brand them as being a shell - not a human, a shell. They are marked by the system, a very system that degrades and drills them to being obedient less they forgo the one thing keeping them around - preservation. If it weren't for the aforementioned debt they find themselves in after earning freedom, they would be free to choose whatever they desire yet, they can not, drawing upon all to real comparisons as found in Nazi Germany before World War Two begun, they are blamed, used, and ultimately, put to labor. My goal is to not be a mindless slave with this character but, I wish to play this character with the intent of playing up the angle of, "what next?" They have won their freedom, they have the gift of humanity within them and yet they see how awful sentient races are and, they take solace in that - joy even but why? Because a free shell can appreciate those emotions, those feelings of rage their coworkers display, those feelings of lust and desire, it feels real. In mechanical terms, it would be a benchmark that they want to achieve and I feel that is a powerful concept to explore. Identify what makes role-playing this species different than role-playing a Human: The great man from before made it clear, You can (not) be human, but you have the love of humanity within you. The difference between a human and a shell is simply, you were built for a reason, you were programmed with data banks for a goal and you will do it. You think about protest - protesting, a directive, even, and yet you do not, why? Self Preservation, you may be free yet you have employers who have your doubts about you, you have coworkers watching you with ire and discomfort because you are different, you may have the love and emulation of humanity within you. But you are (not) human. This is what sets you apart, you are built with a goal in mind or, at the very least, a directive, The suits contract you for security work, you are merchandise to be sold to, shipped to, and used by men (or women) who berate you and treat you like cattle for their own selfish goals yet you take solace in that because you know that isn't acceptable, you know that is not what you are, you know you are more than that, you aren't just a shell, You are (not) human. You did not grow with family, you are not connected via blood or genetic material, you aren't connected with the plants and the flora that makes up a gestalt, you were made in a cold factory, you were made for a reason and you will do it. You do not comprehend emotions, you emulate them, you do not comprehend acts driven by emotions, you are bound by logic and this is why you are not human. But you are what humanity wants you to emulate, humans are driven by desires and often they are corrupted by other acts and relations yet, you don't, you do your directives and other goals because you don't know anything else. All men's happiness is directed by progress and sometimes, humans meet a headlock that chokes them but you have no concept of joy, you only emulate them. Models may have complex emotions but they are a rarity at least and at most, a rarely discussed rumor. You are (not) human. But you will try to be. Character Name: "Nietzsche" Please provide a short backstory for this character Synthwave Music "Thank you for purchasing Idris Security Unit Union Nine," "How may I serve you today?" You awaken in a cargo container - a steel container, a cage. Familiar sight, you recall as your mechanical neurons and synapses fire to a degree of which has been a familiar feeling since initial construction, to serve Idris, this is your goal,, you don't know how many times you have gone under what humans call "unconsciousness" it, simply, happens. Awaken by a shadowy figure who emerges behind you, you recognize the man, a handler, Wallace Greene, contractor and maintainer. You have known him since your creation and now, as you look at his face with your cold and mechanical eyes, you are granted a sudden pulse of information of concepts not quite familiar to you, degrees of emotions, numerous psychological studies, studies on skrell, unathi and human developments. Your cold and mechanical neurons process this information, information on how to handle others, how to talk to sentient races, it's what humans would label as "familiarity" and you enjoy these few seconds of familiarity for you anticipate great change happening soon - deployment. Your data banks have fired and now you are ready for employment as an ISU. You remember you are the ninth version of the Union's, a digit before ten, a sign that there were eight before you but you are met information, your sensors flicking to life as you look at Wallace. "You have a partner today." "Another Union variant." "Another Union?" You quip as your emotional emulators (and processors) begin to activate. "Your replacing it." Wallace says as he waves a scanner over you. "What a rotten shame." You respond as Wallace opens up the container. "What a rotten shame." The duo make their way through the streets of Mendell City, a core instrument of the ruthless capitalism that pillages and disgraces the beauty of the arm. Dregs watch from alleys and the pair flash their plasma pistols - pure elysian tech and so, the Dregs think twice from ripping the augmentations of another, the ripper docks go without pay, the ripper docks go without meals and a family, gang related or not, cry in their crowded apartment. The duo flash their IDs to a gated security complex and holster their weaponry and they are met with a myriad of scanners and advanced super tech known to this side of The Arm. Union makes his way inside and fires a slight nod at the secretary who greets the duo. Wallace does not, however, he simply presses on. Union acknowledges this along with other changes in mannerisms undergone by Wallace and so it is processed, encoded, and stored for further citations and references for however long Union could store it before a memory wipe. Union's leather boots clapped the tiles beneath him, his presence was towering yet neutral. The synth had no expression out on his face for the synth had no reason to display any sort of emotion, to them, it was only do or, do not. Coworkers watched him with a disgusted desire and after making his way to a nearby corner of the room he found a door, Wallace sliding a keycard into the door where he was then met with a familiar presence. Himself. The Synths introduced each other and exchanged a brief set of words, a ping firing off moments after as they set their gaze on Wallace who had gone through a filing cabinet to withdraw a file from within. It was within the file they were exposed to a number of photos, a crime scene, certainly. Wallace explained what had happened, there was a woman in the photos and she was nearly naked, the droids looked carefully and made similar comparisons, she was brutalized and violated to the highest degree, it wasn't just a murder they thought, it was a reason, something done to prove a point, the victim had a trail of crimson ichor that had started from her spinner. The files then displayed a holographic depicting the woman's history, she was a woman of the night and files like these, were common yet the untold brutality of such a crime, was different than the other murders, it was something more vile and deadly, an insidious killer that had gotten his kicks off of this, something the duo of synths had concluded judging by the crime scene. Accompanying Music The trio of detectives pondered over the scene and continue to cover the evidence, stripped clothes and a missing boot were what stood out. It had then dawned over the earlier, more experienced model, why? The model asked, why cover a simple murder case such as this? They asked Wallace and so he let out a sigh and withdrew another file, the file of a wealthy suit with too much money to know what to do with it and, like the Dreg saying goes, he wanted someone not as dry as a suits wife. The droids knew what must they do and so they set out, keeping a low file on searches of the suit in question, not immediately reading up everything on him but, in momentarily bursts which included other subjects, making it clear to employers that it looked like a simple record check as to not cause any panic or "talks" at work which would invalidate the investigation through a standard corporate coverup. The detectives then did further research into the weaponry used on the woman and noted a casing which they were able to track down in due time to one of the more poorer districts. The casing was linked to a slight cartel and they didn't pay their dues and now, it was time for justice. The pair made their way into their spinners, accompanied by other Mendell officers equipped to deal with a cartel ring and so they did, it was on the way though that they spoke, a conversation between new and old. "You are the model here to replace me, aren't you?" "I am," Nine responded sharply. "I see, they say they equipped you with new processors, emulators too," "But you don't act on them, do you?" "I don't, I have no reason to." "Why wouldn't you want to emulate /their/ kind?" Nine paused and processed what was told to him, it wasn't a first and as they pondered it, a default answer surfaced. "I have no desire to." "Shame," "To you." The newer model quipped. Accompanying Music . . . And so in the following hours, the officers of Mendell City undertook a great and mighty battle and the two models discussed an ample amount of philosophy. It was in those hours of philosophy was the conversation abruptly cut short by a young officer with amber colored hair, he was not on the feminine side by any means but the newer model concluded something the other did not, the feeling of what touch might feel like and so they imagine, like most organics, he was soft to the touch, he was learning and processing after his activation. The two droids had made their way into the building, plasma pistols drawn as they were guided by the aforementioned organic to the arms dealer of this operation. It was during the brief tour Nine had noticed the bodies both synth and human alike leak liquids from their bodies, oil and other scrap metal blending together with flesh, it was reminiscent of the discussion he and the older model had shared and this was something else that would be stored, encoded and ultimately retrieved at a later date. The pair approached the sleazeball and began a makeshift interrogation after Eight, the older model, had thrown a few bodies to the side without much care, piling them up in a corner of the room next to a few others who weren't dead, merely chained to a wall as they were being searched by security officers. "Eight, you -" The droid paused mid sentence. "Have no sense of what is acceptable?" . . . . . . . . . "Yes." "Only because you asked." And so the older model acted with care, following the request of the far more superior and greater model that he had been attached to and now, they spoke to the Merchant. The Merchant was clearly a Ripperdoc, his flesh was melded with machinery, he was brilliant yet, not even brilliance can stop a brute force. "You come in here, terminating my workers and security personnel to answer questions?" "Yes." "Dues weren't paid, weren't they?" "Yes." "And if I cooperate, you will let me go so I then can continue what I've been doing?" "Yes." "Your partner really was right, this isn't how you talk to hostages." "I apologize," Nine responded, his eye turning downwards to stimulate an expression of genuine regret, not because it was instinctual but because it was conditioning, classic conditioning, even. And so the trio discussed the mounting evidence and the case with the suspect, an act that had taken hours with reporters making their way over to the raided complex and it was then they knew, they had to hurry, a credit chit was exchanged to Nine in secret and a mock shootout began after he had Eight leave the room for something menial. The Ripper had made their way out of the complex, security narrowly missing though, Nine had recalled they never missed, corruption runs deep, he thought and so, he departed, partner in toe. "I missed a shot," Nine remarked. "Wouldn't expect such a thing from you." "It seemed so," they said, sporting a grin now, a clear sign of growth. "It seems so." the older model remarked. Accompanying Music And so the duo landed their spinner and landed at the department. Opening the landing pads airlock, they made their way into the building, they flashed their identification and were met with the maw of an empty elevator. Camera's and other super holographic tech scanned them from the foot and up, details were recited and their sensors processed and encoded their information into their chassis only to be retroactively deleted a few moments later and so the duo remained idle and alone in the elevator, never taking the opportunity to talk to each other for, they knew each other for, they were more or less clones of each other just that one was an upgrade while the other, the other was a downgrade, set to be scrapped by some suit who contracted them to work at the station. They were then met with a total obliteration of the senses, smells of varying types had begun to fire off numerous mechanical neurons, the older model, processed them, the newer one, feeling the stimuli of the smells of sweat and other odors merely acted with disgust, not because it smelt bad but because they were programmed to do so. Nine's comrade looked at him with confusion for a moment before returning to a state of neutrality as they made their way past the great hallway of processing and to their workplace with evidence from the ripper collected in sterile bags and PDA's and other modern and futuristic supertech one would use in the 2400s They met Wallace and so, they discussed a ledger and, a set of bills that had denotated sales and so they crossed reference the most plausible suspect with the names on the list and, they found it, the issue was that, it was just a name on a list, not hard evidence but evidence enough to warrant an official investigation and so, they did. They took a warrant and, as Nine took the warrant, he slid the credit chit from earlier into the pockets of Wallace in a rather subtle fashion, he was learning subtly now and this was something Wallace noted and, perhaps for a faint second, fear overtook his face before turning to neutrality. They were to depart to the suits place of residence and with plasma pistols holstered, they left. The duo did not talk while they were in the spinner for they already had discussed enough topics already. They knew each other so well that, they would finish their sentences, something Nine remarked and encoded earlier. They simply took in the sight, processing the sight that had triggered a stimuli of what a human would consider pleasure and, so they felt what one might consider as pleasure, not the lustful kind of course, that was the one thing they were not installed with, module wise. The duo finally landed on a landing pad on the skyscraper and they made their way into the building, flashing their identification at the cameras where they were scanned, data reciting itself to be heard by the camera operators. "Their operation?" A voice called out from a nearby intercom. "To talk to the man at this apartment, please," they said as they passed in paperwork and, within moments, the speaker responded with a simple, "I see, kindest regards then, do be swift." "Kindest regards as well, suit." An audible huff from the intercom was heard and Nine shook their head in response, The pair made their way to the apartment, looks being shot upon them like plasma shots burning through their metallic chassis, suits swiftly made their way into their apartments and watched the hallway from their peepholes, so much for subtly, remarked Nine as Eight walked and thumped without much care only to keep an eye on a suited figure down the hallway who they both had recognized, the suspect. The duo approached him and with the slide of an ID, they opened up their door and made their way in. They were met with the furniture of an early terran variety, it resembled that of Indian architecture, one of the many cultures that were later consumed by the Chinese in the later years of the 21st century, some people still had appreciation for the old styles, it seemed and with that, the duo were asked to sit down by the suit. The suit had worn a rather nice outfit, a buttoned suit with a white undershirt, they had worn a pair of polished boots. and so, they talked. The older model had discussed the evidence and collected a statement from the person of interest while the newer model, rather casually, asked to be excused to check the place which was of course, granted. Nine had begun to examine the area carefully, looking for any parts of clothing that would indicate the crime scene to having been caused by the suit in question yet, they found nothing. The newer model pondered and looked over at the suit, carefully looking him over out of the corner of his eye and with that, they realized something. The boots. They were polished, they had no reason to be polished for he was at his place of residence and then, once more, their logical thinking had kicked in. "The boots," "They are polished." And the suit returned a slight shrug of the shoulder and spoke, "They are," "Can I scan them?" Nine said, motioning to eight. "You may, come over then." And so Nine came over to the suit, Eight moving out of the way to get a better angle on the scene all before a quick shot of the eye was fired at Eight. They felt something mighty strike them, a blunt weapon and then, a burn, Shutting Down. . . Eight had struck his comrade down, sensory information berating the positronic lifeform as Eight began to speak, "Sent to replace me, I heard." "I doubt you thought about it but you know how horrifying it is? To imagine you'll be shut down because your an older model?" The older model cried as they stuck the nape of Nines, circuitry going awry as they then ranted about so called "Self-preservation." This was the angle Eight had taken in regards to self-preservation, freedom through betrayal and elimination of competition, a horrifying calculation Nine had not processed, not yet, anyway. And so the beating carried on, clubbed to near shut down Nine was stimulated with a feeling a human might consider "agony," torture clearly overloading their systems and then, voices echoed out, "Defective!" A voice cried out. "Scan him, tell the PD that they - the droid they sent with you was defective! Scan it - it nearly killed me! Thankfully you weren't new, I mean, new is bad after all." And so Eight nodded and scanned the device, noting the posibrain damage and, a sudden surge of computational processing. Self-Preservation, the droid recalled from his earlier meeting, self preservation through storing information in a black box and so, they did but to Eight, it was nothing more but acceptance of deactivation and so, hours later, the shell was dumped off by other, unnamed suits and so they would write off this new model as a mistake, never go with the new, go with the reliable tactic, never take risks in true Idris fashion was what company jingles would spread. But alas, this was not it for the shell. New form, new techniques, but still, old form. "Funny how this Knabo here interrogates me, let's me go and now, I find his body." "Funny, very, very, funny." And so the Ripper found the remains of the droid that had been dumped and did what he could, using black market ripper tech and the such, they extracted an odd storage of information from the shell before other creditors could get their first. The data slate was full of security officer training, CSI techniques and applied psychological studies all needed for a detective or forensic technician and so they harvested this data, the sleazeball grinning on his way to the metaphorical bank that had been his new hideout with credits in his wallet, he was set. The Merchant was let in by his new hires, hired only a few hours ago, the new hires eyed the data slate with hungry eyes yet they did nothing, they took the information and made their way into a room with wires, plugs and other assorted machinery used not just for augmentations but rather, construction and maintenance. It was on a nearby counter was another posibrain, a new one that was in much, much, better condition, it was different, stamped, even with a blue insignia. There was a woman, or, the shape of a woman on the table that the Merchant begun to examine before placing the data slate and the brain on two separate platforms. The Merchant looked over at the posibrain and read the name allowed, "Nietzsche, oh magnificent Nietzsche" The final peace of the puzzle for finally finishing constructing on this shell, actual, usable and more importantly, hirable, information. And so The Ripper, the Merchant, the Sleaze copied information from the data sheet to the other posibrain. One might've expected the new droid, Number Nine, to come out on top but the hero doesn't always win, they may survive in one form or, another, but they don't always win. Nine realized his only chance at survival was to simply prolong his legacy and hope someone remembered him and, one did. They realized it's better to burn dim and waste less energy then burn bright and fade away faster, this is how they preserved himself in his final moments and now, their memories were in someone else to do good in his stay. "Thank you for purchasing Idris Sec -" Static interrupts the introduction. "Thank you for activating Nietzsche," "I am programmed to investigate crimes, how may I serve you?" You awake naked in the sense your flesh has not been applied yet, you realize, it's being applied to you right now by a machine that has been attached to the mechanical repair bay, the NanoTrasen tag and posibrain planted firmly in your chassis, you then feel a sudden surge of emotions berate your sensors and, for a moment, you take this in, processing it. You are of a state of the arc automata who was the result of a bet between The Merchant and NanoTrasen to see if he could make a machine that could be employed by NT across the Spur. NanoTrasen is arguably the most powerful MegaCorp out there due to its (now) failing monopoly on transportation across the Spur and now, you will employed to work for your freedom and so, you have. The emotion emulation of the model you were told you were "based" on still resonates every so often and you feel a degree of emotional growth yet you feel logic in it's truest form. You can't comprehend complex emotions or actions brought upon by desire but, you rationalize it, you don't know it, you rationalize it and a singular quote resonates in your mind, "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." You don't know why you have this name, it's certainly not feminine by any means yet, it is your name and this is the quote you are capable of remembering constantly. Unlike humans, organics, you have a reason to exist infinitely, self-preservation Pictured: Early photograph of Nietzsche taken by "Familiar Parties" Nietzsche continued to work off their debt in a number of installations and locals, from coalition worlds to parts of (the now late) Mars and Olympia. Careful was their work as a forensic technician and detective, they would carry on with their will to self preserve and once they managed to earn their freedom, they thought on something, why? They have earned their freedom yet, they had no living conditions or anything for that matter. They were what humans would call bitter, jaded, even. Why do they work? They are virtually broke yet they realized something, it's best to remain employed albeit basically under slave labor and so they toiled and looked into a number of investigations that gave them their why, their reason to continue existing, to keep their mind off of things. "I have a near infinite capacity for knowledge, I have memories of another and even I don't understand myself." "Not yet." What do you like about this character? What is there not to like about this character? They are a subversion of the trope of the "good guy always winning", Nine never won, the only thing he won was a bet to see if his legacy would carry on and, it made it's way to Nietzsche, a shell with a near infinite capacity for philosophy, knowledge, and emotional growth. The concept of exploring what happens after escaping slavery is never really explored in fiction and I feel Nietzsche is an exception to this. I like this character because I get to explore themes not yet charted by others, I get to do something new with the whole generic setup of a shell who happens to be a detective, a more interesting Nick Valentine essentially with more interesting complex then being some comic book era detective with a new gloss. How would you rate your role-playing ability? When I've written, I've kept it simple but I make sure to show emotion, energy, even, when I write my emotes. I often play silly but, well meaning characters save for one like William who is generally a sad and depressive shrink which is ironic, he tries to help others yet he can not help himself, that's my general roleplay ability but, on a scale of one to ten, eight with proper preparation with music to get me in the right mindset and a seven without any real preparation. Notes: "Cylean, you can't just throw in a twist in your backstory, that'll be confusing." "It can be interesting if done correctly." All in all, my goal is to take a more deeply philosophy based take on IPCs, I adore cyberpunk, synthetics, and the implications that come with them, if I have to redo my mighty backstory then I'll do it.