Bath Salts Addict

+1 on this. Likewise, make his and other security bots' radio calls be heard by everyone wearing a headset with the Security channel. As it stands, only people wearing SecHUDs can hear Beepsky. This makes it hard for Captains, HoPs IA, fashion-conscious officers, Detectives, disgruntled eyepatch-wearing Wardens and tater tots listening in to Sec comms to be aware of what's going on.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." - Edmund Burke Chuh-click, chuh-click, chuh-click, chuh-click. The repetitious stomping of the exosuit tore through the otherwise quiet landscape of white. Heavy metal footfalls made their mark in the otherwise-untarnished snow, leaving large prints that would soon be covered up by the brisk cold wind in but a few hour's time. The otherwise beautiful environment was periodically disturbed by the occasional sharp crack of a distant gunshot, but they were few and far between. No, the worst had already happened, and what was left was the cleanup; something the exosuit and it's pilot were not apart of. Not anymore, anyways. Lurching forward, little heed was paid to the general origin of the gunshots: the town that was currently still save for said shots and trails of black smoke rising atop it's ramshackle houses like a fire that had gone out but a few moments before. The buildings could be considered primitive at best; mere one-story dwellings of wood and stone. The colony was in it's early years of settlement, and an easy target for the likes of trained raiders and opportunistic bandits. The resistance posed had been laughable, at best. Whatever militia the colonists could muster was under-equipped, undermanned and insufficiently trained. Those who hadn't surrendered were quickly gunned down in the ensuing skirmish and made examples of for the rest of the populace as their new leadership came marching into town. The gunshots occasionally picked up by the mech's sensors were for the non-compliant colonists. Coming to a halt, the Durand military-purpose exosuit began to slowly turn to survey the environment around it with apathetic movements, mounted armaments half-raised at a forty degree angle. Inside, it's pilot was just as apathetic about his situation. A young man in his early-to-mid twenties sat in the mech's cockpit, blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the cameras acting as his window into the world beyond. Inside his metal shell, his home, he was oblivious to much of the outside world. He had long since shed the insulated longcoat, letting it rest snugly between his back and the padded seating that he had proudly installed himself. The armored confines of what had quickly become his weaponized-home-on-legs from the moment he was assigned to it protected him from the cold as well as it protected him from enemy fire. Just another search and destroy, he thought to himself with a resigned sigh as he glanced up at the camera feed connecting him to the outside world, one hand letting go of one of the levers to adjust his short blonde hair, something he found himself constantly doing to make a good impression on his betters. Every-so-often, words would trail along under the screen, reading: 'REMINDER: OBEDIENCE IS THE HALLMARK OF GOOD MEN', something he found himself taught almost religiously early all his life. "Verdammt colonists," he grumbled to himself. "Running away and making my job all the more harder." He dismissed the surrounding field of blanketed snow and corrected his exosuit's course. A forest was laid out before it, treetops stretching high. The time of day was just right for deep shadows to be cast within the forest's canopy. However, as the exosuit began to lurch forward, the monitor feed that served as the pilot's window to the outside world began to flicker and emit static, eliciting an annoyed grunt as he attempted to get it back online by tapping the screen with his finger, for all the good it would do him. "Have to replace that camera," he muttered. "Whatever. I'll fix it later." Squinting and keeping his attention peeled to the flickering screen. As the exosuit neared the forest's edge, more gunshots could be picked up from it's audio sensors, closer and louder this time. It wasn't until he heard that familiar ping of bullets bouncing off armor plating did the pilot realize it was he who was being shot at this time. Leaning forward in the cockpit, his first instinct was to immediately halt the Durand's movements, reaching up to practically slam his thumb against a few buttons. The exosuit began to halt and lower itself on it's hydraulics, mounted machine gun swiveling upward, raised in the perceived origin of the shots. Zooming in on the monitor, the pilot of the exosuit could just barely make out a figure at the edge of the woods, arms upraised and an automatic rifle in his hands, but the details were unclear thanks to his faulty cameras. "Hast du, Hündin," he growled under his breath as the targeting reticle settled in place over the blurry figure. Just as he was about to fire, a stray shot pinged off the camera, scratching the reinforced glass. However, that shot was all that was needed for the camera feed to disconnect completely. Still picking up the sounds of gunshots periodically pinging off his exosuit's armor and cursing under his breath, the pilot sat up in his cockpit to pull at a panel above him. Cover pried off, a colorful mass of wires bulged out from above like a boil, followed by a few sparks created by what must have been the cause of the camera feed issue. Reaching up and rifling through the wires, he quickly found the problem: an incomplete wire connection, which was remedied by blindly following the line with his hands and giving the wire a good push, followed by an application of a soldering iron from his belt to seal up what issues were visible from where he was sitting. Without bothering to place the panel back on, he dropped himself back into his chair as the monitor came flickering to life. Hand eagerly gripping the lever, his gaze trailed up towards the monitor that had not only been repaired, but produced a now-crystal clear image of his surroundings and his assailant, who in a display of ignorance hadn't budged an inch from his spot as he continued to fire shots off one round at a time. Finally given a clear view of the person he had been assigned to eliminate, and what the orders failed to tell him. He was looking at a child, no older than fifteen. Bundled up in a coat that was far too large for him and wielding an automatic rifle just as large in frostbitten hands, the boy's expression was a combination of pure grief and rage. Tears were streaming down his face in wet streaks, threatening to freeze to his face thanks to the cold wind, but they were paid little heed. His eyes were locked on what must have been the Devil himself with the intentions of seeing him smote. It took the pilot to realize that target was, in fact, him. This realization left a heavy feeling in his stomach, and his resolve weakened while his grip on the lever slackened. More metallic pings resounded through the cockpit, forcing him to look away from the monitor for a moment. With a hand hovered over the lever that would finish his assignment, he found himself reluctantly staring back at the monitor. Back into the grieving eyes of the child that wished death, possibly worse, upon him. It was a gaze that made him feel sick, but those same words of attempted indoctrination began rolling across the monitor, more sinister now than ever. "OBEDIENCE IS THE HALLMARK OF GOOD MEN," the monitor threatened. The pings of the bullets became more hollow, and the pilot suddenly became aware of the sound of his own breathing. For him, time seemed to slow down as his hand slowly descended for the lever. Run, he found himself thinking. Still, the boy continued to stand defiantly against the armored exosuit. His hand continued to descend. What are you doing? Run. his thoughts continued to echo while his hand found the lever. The automated systems of the Durand recalibrated the targeting reticle, fixating themselves across the target's chest. "OBEDIENCE IS THE HALLMARK OF GOOD MEN," the monitor seemed to shout at him, forcing his throat to contract and promptly swallow as he contemplated what refusing his mission might entail. His thoughts fumbled over one another as he attempted to recall whether or not the feed was recorded twenty-four seven, or if it was a lie put in place in order to instill complete compliance one hundred percent of the time. Still, the boy did not move. RUN! his conscience screamed, making him unsure whether or not it was meant for the child or for him. Still, there was no turning back. In a quick, decisive motion, his hand clamped around the trigger. The exosuit's mounted machine gun roared to life and belched fire, releasing three 5.56 millimeter rounds in quick succession. Immediately, the pilot's chest was stabbed with the unfamiliar pang of regret, a pale reciprocation of what happened to the boy. He was too late to undo what he had done. The bullets found their mark. The three rounds tore through the child's chest, caving in bone and ripping apart internal organs as he was sent sprawling back a few feet in a spray of his own blood. He didn't get up. Sitting back in the cockpit, the pilot reluctantly tapped at a few buttons and pushed the twin levers forward, causing the exosuit to stand back up from it's little squat and slowly lurch forward. Without the metallic pings, the silence was deafening, and he began to hate the feeling of it. Not even the familiar chuh-click of the Durand was enough to ease his mind. The naive part of him wished the child was okay, or was just pretending to have been hit, but in reality he knew just what he had done. The child's movements became evident as the exosuit approached, but any hopes of his being alright were crushed. Once-white snow was stained crimson and a thick pool was steadily forming from beneath the boy as he gasped to draw breath from collapsed lungs that no longer worked. Gone was the rage and grief that had filled his eyes. Instead, in their place was futile desperation as he squirmed about, crimson slipping between his fingers. Eventually, the once-youthful and strong body of the child seized up and fell limp, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he was finally granted reprieve. The exosuit's pilot could not help but think on how in his last moments, he was staring down the expressionless metal giant that had gunned him down seemingly without regard. Part of him was glad that the child never got to see his face, but another part of him was ashamed for that fact. Feeling a tight pressure in his chest and the feeling of bile welling up in his throat, the mech's pilot quickly popped off the latches and pushed open the hatch of the exosuit into the cold, biting wind, scrambling out and doing his best not to give the lifeless body another glance as he rounded the side of the mech. One arm leaning against it for support, he found himself doubled over as he began to vomit while replaying the grim scene over and over in his mind, each lost flicker of life fueling his vile convulsions. Eventually, he had nothing left but stomach acid to give, and the vomiting stopped. As he straightened himself out and took a breath of cold air that bit at his throat. It seemed to do him some good. His moment of recovery was interrupted by the familiar static of the radio in the exosuit coming to life. Raising one hand to shield his peripheral vision of the dead child, he walked over to the front of the exosuit and leaned into it through the open hatch. "Hammerstein come in," the radio crackled. "What is your status on the mission, over?" Steeling himself, Adolph allowed himself one more look at the body lying in the snow before turning back to the radio and keying the receiver, leaning in to speak. "...Mission completed, sir," he quietly spoke. His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him, as if it was reprimanding him for what he had done. "Target eliminated." "Damn fine work," the gruff voice spoke jovially, blissfully ignorant or just uncaring towards what happened. "Head on back. The rest are cleaning up and we'll be off this frozen wasteland with the labor and the Potentials." "Jawohl, sir," he muttered, releasing the radio's receiver and clambering back into the exosuit. Pulling the hatch back down, he was given one last glance at the lifeless body before Adolph Hammerstein was once again sealed off from the world outside. Sealed off, but not quite ignorant anymore, he couldn't help but note. "OBEDIENCE IS THE HALLMARK OF GOOD MEN," the familiar words blared out at him as the monitor reinitialized, eliciting a surge of anger that rose through his chest like a firework before dying down once again. Leaning back in the cockpit, his face fell into a well-practiced expression of apathy, although there was little hiding the haunted look in his eyes. Pulling on the twin levers, the Durand wheeled itself around and once again trudged through the snow, this time headed back towards the down that had ceased to emit black plumes of smoke. Once more, all was still and silent, save for the exosuit's repetitious stomping. Chuh-click, chuh-click, chuh-click.

I'm not sure what it's like where you're from, but in most places you can't finish high school at 16. You can drop out at 16, yes, but you'd never be able to get a post-secondary without finishing high school and no job would ever take an applicant seriously if they were a high school drop out, unless it was fast food. Edgar Dawnguard would make a good Space fry cook, but he'd never be able to get even an internship anywhere, let alone a post-secondary education. How'd he even get started without qualifications?

I'd like to show you something. These are Edgar Dawnguard's records. He is currently 38 at the time I took this screenshot. If my math is correct, he started his education at around 15-16 years of age. Interesting. Not only that, but nowhere does it indicate he is qualified to operate the RnD lab, yet every time at roundstart he rushes to the RnD lab to try and max out the levels as fast as he possibly can. This would be a -1 from me.

Let's tackle a few things. More to come as I get to them. I'm not sure how stealing materials is exactly powergaming. It's an IC issue, regardless. These are literally the only two roles I play as this character. This an IC issue regarding the person allowing the promotion. Most of the time I don't ask, and instead get offered it or someone tells me my records check out and they offer me the position. Likewise, there's more to being a head of staff than having as many degrees and PhDs as logically possible. A head of staff is expected to be able to handle conflicts and times of crisis with a steady hand and cleared head. Adolph tends to cut the shit and ceases to dick around if he's ever made interim, as you've seen. I'm not sure what you were taught in history class in school, but there's more to being a Nazi than an antiquated ideology regarding "race" (the term not even really being applicable in-universe because of other xeno races). Even then, I don't even play into that part of the record as much as it's there for the sake of something be there. I keep telling myself to remove it, but I don't get around to it. He actually doesn't. Someone he knew gave him a list of what to deconstruct and he (read: I) mentally recall it every time he's forced to do RnD due to a lack of people willing or able. He legitimately can't for the life of him experiment with random objects. He just follows a pre-determined grocery list. Again, the only two jobs I play, Two years on record. Multiple people have asked, and he's always stated he has been working for longer, but anything past two years he wasn't paid for due to muh backstory reasons. I don't think that's quite a hard thing to do, is it? Captains use it all the time. Well yeah. Everything barring antag actions are canon. Just because he's working Robotics one round doesn't mean he magically forgets everything involving Security. That's not within your grounds as a player, and this is a topic that has been touched upon many times by members of staff. Nearly every time they've taken a look at the records and told me everything checks out. As before. The list. This is great. Conflict. This is what I love to create. I'm sorry it's an OOC frustration to you, however. I'm always impressed the creative things engineering comes up with to secure that fukken metal How, exactly? You work with synthetics and exosuits, you tend to bugger around with a lot of wiring. Even if mechanics-wise you can't get shocked, there's always a potential risk as well as cutting your hands on something. Insulated gloves are work gloves with the benefit of insulating against shocks. Anyone would get them. The only reason I see a lot of roboticists don't is because they actually don't know there are insulated gloves there, let alone the fact that they have access. Regarding this, cyborged brains without paperwork are practically always that of antagonists, and entirely depends on the Captain/heads of staff. Many I've seen don't care if it happens, even to the point of being informed by Adolph himself before undergoing the procedure and them shrugging it off. If they do care, they usually drop it after paperwork gets filed after the fact. I don't know what Adolph has exactly done to make other people fear him to that point, but hey. Adolph is a common name. If he was named Adolf instead, it may be a little brow-raising. Blonde? Again, plenty of people are blonde. Racial supremacy? He honestly isn't aside from that tidbit regarding his records. While he might have a few ideals concerning it, but he's always of the opinion that as he is "superior", for lack of a better term, he has a duty to protect the weak when in dire need, and that always transcends race. He was a traitor that round, and had been going through a long-standing spree of police brutality and manipulating the security team that he barely covered up including beating prisoners in the Brig, setting them on fire and other such things. That was my attempt at a gimmick, anyways. As for the reasoning, he asked for someone to bring cuffs to the holding cells but no one did. I feel you have no right to really request this, even considering staff have talked to me about this and pretty much every time told me this was okay. I've been gradually doing this less and less, and have instead been attempting to go through it bureaucratically with varying degrees of success. I've heard some good things about him though, regarding roleplaying ability and the like. But the little meta/powergame/antagonism details push him into an 11. I feel changing my character so you can like him is an unreasonable, and pretty impossible request. I can't please everyone, and I definitely don't aim to. Adolph is not a character people are supposed to take to instantly, and his actions do cause conflict. Simply put, I adore IC conflict. It's what makes rounds and interactions interesting, especially when you add into typical antagonist shenanigans that might be happening. Some rounds he truly gets to shine, and others he's more of a grey element. I don't ask that people like my character. Hell, sometimes I ask the opposite as I know there are people who can't differentiate IC and OOC. I propagate that willingly because I'm thick-skinned and can handle criticism, as I am attempting to do so now. I am, admittedly, disheartened that it got to the point of Hunter and his confidants making this complaint.

Reporting Personnel: Adolph Hammerstein Rank of Reporting Personnel: Roboticist Game ID: bgTv1f is the round after. Personnel Involved: -Fabian Goellstein; Offender (Mirkoloio) Time of Incident: Est. 2:40 to 2:50 Real time: Est. 5:50 UTC-6 Location of Incident: Robotics lab, later crew transfer shuttle. Nature of Incident: []Workplace Hazard []Accident/Injury [X]Destruction of Property [X]Neglect of Duty []Harassment [X]Assault [X]Misconduct []Other _____ (Place an x in the box that applies. If other, replace line and specify.) Overview of the Incident: A vague threat was made towards the AI that resulted in it locking down Virology and hindering Medical staff's efforts to search for a cure to a viral infection. Beforehand, I had made a Durand and had it sitting in the mech bay beforehand. It had never left the science department at any point, as directive four states that any "contraband" items produced within the science department is only considered as such if it leaves the confines of the indicated areas. I PDA'd the acting Head of Security at the time, Fabian Goellstein, to inform him that I was ready to check the AI's laws if he gave the word. He replied with "Word" and I informed him I had a Durand ready. I was nearly out the door with it when he replied "NO" and ran to the mech bay door. I, still in the exosuit, opened it for him and walked it back to the charger, exiting it. He then attempted to requisition it for his personal use, to which I told him to get a form, as per standard procedure. He refused, and insisted that I simply give it to him. I, again, denied his request. A simple form would have been sufficient enough for me to hand it over, but he failed to follow any such procedure. I informed him of directive four, and what it denotes. He then took out his baton and started hitting the Durand repeatedly with the intention to destroy it. In response, I simply repaired the meager damages until he walked up to me, wordlessly struck me with his baton repeatedly and cuffed me. When I came to, he had taken my ID and cuffed me to a chair in my lab as I watched him tirelessly beat an armored exosuit to the point of destruction with a stunbaton. After that was done, he dragged me to the crew transfer shuttle that had just arrived, ignoring my requests to have my eyepatch that I dropped due to him attacking me. When the shuttle undocked, he told me the following direct quote: "I am being paid to be an asshole" before walking away. Did you report it to a Head of Department or IAA? If so, who?: I did not. Actions taken: I had attempted to contact Security to keep their wayward interim in check, but no one responded. Additional notes:

A definite yes from me. Anomalia (or Annie as Adolph affectionately refers to her as) is more than capable ICly as well as their player OOCly and, as stated before, does more for the department each round and overall as a whole than most RDs do. In my mind, my "ideal" Research staff definitely counts Anomalia in it's numbers, whether it's Xenoarch or taking the time to help out with RnD before rushing off to dig up bowls and swords. And there's almost always interesting RP to be had with whatever she finds. I just with RNGesus would smile upon Xenoarch and allow a few more cool things to be dug up. +1

Reporting Personnel: Adolph Hammerstein Rank of Reporting Personnel: Warden Game ID: baQXXf Personnel Involved: (Name, Rank: Offender/Witness/Other (Ckey)) - Conner Scott, Detective, Offender (Wesmas) - Edward Cane, Security Officer, Other (CommanderXor[i think?]) - Arthur Sommer, Security Officer, Witness Time of Incident: 0:14 (est.) Real time: 5:00 AM GMT-6 11/5/2016 (est.) Location of Incident: Equipment Storage, Brig. Nature of Incident: [X]Workplace Hazard []Accident/Injury []Destruction of Property []Neglect of Duty [X]Harassment []Assault [X]Misconduct [X]Other Severe Threat of Harm to Crew. (Place an x in the box that applies. If other, replace line and specify.) Overview of the Incident: The shift started as normal, and everyone was gearing up. Officer Sommer pinned a tag to his vest that read "Courtesy, Professionalism, Respect". Officer Cane took notice and demanded he take the tag off before ripping it off and crushing it underboot for unknown reasons. Just then, Detective Scott approached Cane with his revolver drawn. After a few words, Scott replied with this direct quote: "Give me a reason not to kill your worthless ass." After verbally voicing my displeasure, the Detective put his gun away after a few more words. I asked Officer Sommer if he wanted to press charges against Cane for vandalism. Sommer replied in the negative and I approached Scott, declaring him under arrest for i103 - Minor Assault, as i103 also covers threats of severe harm but I did not wish to give Scott a tracking implant, as i115 dictates, but I will not hesitate to do so should another incident occur. Upon being notified, Scott did not take me seriously and walked back to his office, where he tried to shut the door in my face. A brief pushing match ensued and I forced my way inside. I then pinned Scott to the table, cuffed him, took him to a cell and detained him for nine minutes for i103 and i202. He served the sentence without further incident. Did you report it to a Head of Department or IAA? If so, who?: Negative. There was none at the time Actions taken: Detective Scott was arresting for i103 - Minor Assault and i202 - Resisting Arrest and/or Sparking a Manhunt Additional notes:

I do a lot of Warden-ing, and I noticed the armory inventory at round start isn't 100% in-depth. I've taken the time to write up a form with all possible weapons that can spawn in the armory at round start. [center][b][large]NSS Exodus[/large][/b][br] [small]Armoury Inventory[/small][br] [hr] [hr] [/center] [br][b]Weaponry[/b] [field] Energy Gun(s) [field] Laser Gun(s) [field] Ion Rifle(s) [field] WT-55 Saber(s) [field] Stun Revolvers [field] Shotgun(s) [field] Combat Shotgun(s) [hr] [b]Armour[/b] [field] Bulletproof Vest(s) [field] Ablative Vest(s) [field] Biohazard Suit(s) [field] Bomb Suit(s) [field] Heavy Vest(s) [hr] [b]Auxiliary Equipment[/b] [field] Gasmask(s) [field] box(es) of Flashbangs [field] box(es) of Handcuffs [field] box(es) of R.O.B.U.S.T. Cartridge [field] box(es) of EMP Grenades [hr] [b]Riot Equipment[/b] [field] Stun Baton(s) [field] Riot Suit(s) [field] Riot Shield(s) [hr] [b]Tactical Equipment[/b] [field] Tactical Armour(s) [field] Tactical Helmet(s) [field] Tactical Jumpsuit(s) [field] Green Balaclava(s) [field] Tactical HUD(s) [field] Combat Belt(s) [field] Black Glove(s) [field] Jackboot(s) [hr] [b]Implants[/b] [field] Tracking Implant Box(es) [field] Chemical Implant Box(es) [hr] [b]Defense Systems[/b] [field] Deployable Barrier(s) [field] Portable Flasher(s) [hr] [b]Other[/b] [field] Holobadge Box(es) [field] Pepperspray(s) [hr] [b][center]Warden's Signature:[/b] [field]

Reporting Personnel: Röntgen Adolph von Hammerstein II Rank of Reporting Personnel: Custodial Technician Personnel Involved: Head of Security Marc Price (Offender), Geneticist Martin Richter (victim), Geneticist Akero'Ceyta Veeta'Pleat (witness), Security Officer Natacha Morgan (brief witness, went SSD), Chief Medical Officer Junne Sonnberg (brief witness), Surgeon Augur (witness), Captain Erransis Tup'Fedranin (witness) Time of Incident: Real time: UTC-06:00 Location of Incident: Nature of Incident: []Workplace Hazard []Accident/Injury []Destruction of Property []Neglect of Duty []Harassment []Assault [X]Misconduct [X]Other: Misuse of Defined Corporate Regulations Infractions. Overview of the Incident: While cleaning the medbay, I was alerted by my janitorial cart suddenly moving on it's own towards Genetics. Upon getting closer, the Geneticist inside, Martin Richter, flagged me down and asked me to assist him. He asked me to press a button on his DNA console after he had entered the scanner, and I obliged by doing so. He promptly came out appearing a little different from earlier. He told me that he had found a disc titled 'God Emperor of Mankind' and had used it on himself. After testing his new-found genetic abilities, he said something in a loud voice on his headset which I could not make out. Then, I heard the CMO and another voice on the common channel calling Security to the Genetics lab. After a short wait, Head of Security Marc Price and Officer Natacha Morgan arrived with Augur, the CMO and the Captain in tow. After a brief discussion about the legality of testing on oneself with genetics powers, Security entered the room and promptly cuffed the unresisting Geneticist. They then proceeded to stuff him in a DNA scanner and try to figure out how to change him back to normal despite Richter offering to fix himself as long as they uncuffed him, but he was ignored. Neither the HoS and probably not Augur were qualified to use the console, yet they did so anyways, and ended up deleting the other Geneticist's DNA back-up. Said Geneticist, Akero'Ceyta Veeta'Pleat, then woke up after a nap in the next room over and argued with Security a little before disabling Richter's genetic powers, although he still had the appearance of the subject who's DNA was on the data disk. The Head of Security then stated that he'd have Richter fixed on the Odin, and wheeled him away in cuffs as the crew transfer shuttle docked. The other Geneticist informed me their DNA backup was deleted due to either the HoS or Augur's incompetence and we left to transfer back to the Odin. On the shuttle, I overheard the Head of Security tell Richter he was charging them with crimes that they simply didn't commit from my witness perspective. These include 'failure to execute an order', 'neglect of duty', and I believe even 'vandalism' and 'resisting arrest' were added on as well, but I'm not too sure. Either of which, I never witnessed Richter commit any of those crimes from what I saw. Did you report it to a Head of Staff or IAA? If so, who?: The shift was about to end and the crew transfer shuttle docked shortly afterwards. Both the Head of Security and Captain were there for the affair. Additional notes: I'm not too sure of the legality of self-testing in regards to Genetics, as I am not trained in anything relating to Genetics testing. Richter, who is qualified and a prominent Geneticist from what I've seen in other shifts, claims a waiver for such is in his contract. The Head of Security, probably not qualified in Genetics, claims otherwise. Either way, the legality is not the main part of the report. The misuse of Corporate Regulation charges and the Head of Security's unprofessional behavior and tampering is.

That does answer my question actually. Will need to make some minor adjustments but overall this was the answer I was hoping for.

If I understand what you're saying, then some form of neo-Nazi group would be plausible so long as it isn't some massive uber army with entire systems under it's control. I was thinking more of a small, underground group with around three hundred members if being generous, and maybe a ship or two but absolutely zero political influence at all. Really, the only purpose for it is to add flavour to a backstory and attempt to make it realistic for a character. Unlike other extremist groups such as ATLAS which are more prominent, or at least prominent enough to require a lore auth application.

The way I see it is this: there's failure to execute an order and outright refusal. Seeing as the whole situation was chaos, no one could have realistically sat there while Adolph performed his task. They could have just chalked it up to circumstances making it so he was physically unable to carry out the order, resulting in the deaths. Either way, that was his last post before joining up with Nanotrasen. Edit: Now that I looked over the records again, I realize the way I typed it implied that Adolph actually did refuse the order. Fixed to make it seem more accidental now.

Basically, Space Nazis, yes. ATLAS is fine and dandy, but they're more focused on species rather than humanity's own "races". Or, just extremist fascists rather than Nazis. Generally as a rule of thumb Nazis hold onto the fascist ideology but not all fascists are Nazis.

My character isn't prominent enough to get his own thread, so I'll post it here. I know I as a player haven't been around for long, but does anyone remember any interactions with an eccentric Warden or Roboticist named Adolph Hammerstein? Probably ranting about his racial superiority, trying to pay Vaurca to perform surgery, or just wandering around the Brig finding ways to game the atmos system so he can gas unruly prisoners. What a swell guy. Here are his records: http://aurorastation.org/r/records/index.php?uid=bathsaltsaddict_r?ntgenvonhammersteiniiph.d.

Simple question. Title basically says it all, but I'll divulge on some specifics. When I mean "neo-Nazi" I don't mean ghostly pale baldies with swastikas tattooed all over their head. I'm talking about a highly trained, probably militant group of men in uniforms reminiscent of the SS. Basically: real Nazis. Not just human supremacists, because we already have those. Actual, genuine Nazis that see their fellow humans as inferior if they're not blonde with blue eyes. Probably hating other species, too. Optionally, they aren't Nazis at all rather than militant fascists who hold their belief strongly. Either is good, really. It's for a background I'm writing up for a character of mine.