amorphbutt
Hollowed
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2017
- Messages
- 2
- Points
- 1
- Age
- 25
Steam Name/Steam ID : Amorphbutt | STEAM_0:1:39048111
How long have you played on the server?: I’ve not played at all; I wanted to make a character properly before I leapt into it, you know?
Character Name/Nicknames: Istus’Hanni nar Stayya, Istus, Yet Another Quarian.
Character Race: Quarian
Position: Tech Support (Engineer).
Equipment: What one would expect of a quarian; their suit and all additional tech that would come with that to make it functional, along with a bluewire omni-tool, heavily modified for ease of living/meeting the standards of newer models, and a M-3 Predator.
Characters alignment, IE Paragon, Renegade, Neutral: Neutral, self-serving, genuinely could give less shits.
Characters Backstory:
Character Goal/Skills:
Following the destruction and ruination that the Reaper War brought, there is most likely a massive void in power in the galaxy, leading to strife, crime, homelessness, and lack of employment. The New Eden mercenary company gives those with the skills required to join their corps a semblance of structure, order, money, and many other requirements for living in this unmistakably /new/ galaxy. She wants—nay--/needs/ that in order to survive.
As for her skills, she has a common technical aptitude common amongst quarians; a real techwizard when it comes to code, or data, or programs. You know. Granted that a majority of the ship’s systems are reliant upon code and the fact that a majority of ships in Mass Effect (if not all of them) have some sort of computing system that would require constant monitoring to make sure said coding doesn’t get fucked up, it’d be useful, yeah? She can also do some minor repairs on a myriad of vehicles, a majority of which being impossibly out of date and out of circulation, but she can help with ventilation systems!
How long have you played on the server?: I’ve not played at all; I wanted to make a character properly before I leapt into it, you know?
Character Name/Nicknames: Istus’Hanni nar Stayya, Istus, Yet Another Quarian.
Character Race: Quarian
Position: Tech Support (Engineer).
Equipment: What one would expect of a quarian; their suit and all additional tech that would come with that to make it functional, along with a bluewire omni-tool, heavily modified for ease of living/meeting the standards of newer models, and a M-3 Predator.
Characters alignment, IE Paragon, Renegade, Neutral: Neutral, self-serving, genuinely could give less shits.
Characters Backstory:
Istus’Hanni nar Stayya was born upon the Stayya, a small scouting vessel of asari origin retrofitted to be used as a light cargo vessel, though its primary purpose was in use with trading. When in inhabited systems, the ship would be loaded up with goods from the Flotilla; raw metals, elements, the things that a budding colony or long-standing one would require, and would come back with what the Flotilla needed.
The parents of Istus--Bhann’Hanni vas Stayya and Vheya’Hanni vas Stayya--were both a couple of the traders aboard the vessel. They had the personality requiring it, and the intelligence to make the deals required. So, when Istus was born, she was… better off than most quarians. Imagine two charismatic, pragmatic parents with shrewd business-sense raising a child.
Needless to say, Istus was a cunning girl with an appetite for knowledge. Her parents found themselves comfortable in raising the kid; they have been planning for it, after all. And they had made the necessary request to the captain, and had that verified. They were, in full, excellent parents supporting of the child’s needs and interests. And GOODNESS, did she have some interests.
In school, she was ravenous in her desire, her /need/ to learn. She devoured information as soon as she was presented it, and was, by all accounts, a model student. Her quick mind proved useful in technical skills, particularly with programming, coding, and general data-centric aspects of modern tech.
Before long (which is to say, 18 years) she was ready to be sent out into the galaxy on her Pilgrimage! Her, alongside a few trusted friends, loaded onto a shuttle, and went off into the great unknown, with a premarked destination; Omega. That was a mistake.
Shortly after arrival, the ship took off to rejoin the Flotilla proper, and they were left to fend for themselves. What Istus did not account for was the chaos of the world that they had just joined would force upon them. A day after arrival, the third member of their party—a young thing named Shiann—was simply… lost. They had her one moment, and then she just disappeared. In searching for her, they found nothing. Nothing at all.
They lost one another there, literally and metaphorically. She was hopeful before, and that was stripped away, like bleach cleaning off stains. Istus was worn down to her bare, basic principles, and then even moreso. Where she was kind, it was hidden, and replaced with this aloofness, this façade of not caring. Did she care? Could she care anymore? No.
She became different. Internally, externally. She hid herself, tried to make her as unnoticeable as possible, the smallest target as possible. Something that could be ignored, overlooked. And it worked. For a time.
Istus was stilled with tech, being able to debug, reprogram, and fix most things she could get her hands on—if the issues weren’t necessarily physical—and could make a pretty penny off of that. But her friend? He had no real marketable skills on Omega. He could fix stuff, yeah, but no one wanted to… hire that. She got lucky /sometimes/, but he got nothing. Nothing what-so-ever. She had no idea that he was so stressed—maybe she wasn’t paying enough attention—and his warning signs were left unheeded, or unanswered.
He asked for help in finding a job, and she obliged; she tried to help, but he could never hold it down. It was too much for him, he’d say. It was, truly. Omega was too much for them both. Sadly, three months into Omega, one night she wakes up and finds all their credits, all their meds, all their EVERYTHING gone. And so was he.
She was different after that. Very, very different. Somehow down the line she managed to get enough credits to leave Omega after a year or so, and managed to move somewhere else. The Citadel. It wasn’t any better there—maybe a bit cleaner, less chance of exploding—it was exactly like Omega. She took odd jobs, worked odd hours, got staggered pay. Sometimes, she wasn’t EVEN paid. What sort of pseudo-existence was this?
But then something horrific happened. The attack on the Citadel. The geth were the least of her worries; she just wanted to get by, get something of note, then leave for the Flotilla. But no. The horrors from the past of her species came to haunt her, came to wreak havoc and destruction on the Citadel. She never really /cared/ for the Council—they were a bunch of big hats with big nerves to toss out the quarians, to not assist them in any issues what-so-ever, but they didn’t deserve THAT.
No one deserved that. Not even those big hats.
The galaxy just continued to erode after that. Shepard was a shitter, through and through. So when he died, there were genuinely celebrations (hidden, at the very least), and then more dread. The geth got them, apparently, or it was something else. Probably something else. A couple more years, Shepard emerges from the grave with the apparent assistance of human-supremacists. Cerberus. It was at this time Istus just, bugs out.
She packs her bags, liquidizes her funds, and sets off to go as far away from that nonsense as possible, though apparently not far enough. She drifted from station to station, planet to planet, until she had barely anything left, and even THEN, something awful happened. The Reaper War.
The colony she was on was saved of a majority of that widespread destruction the galaxy was forced to endure for a few months, but the Reapers came (as they did), and almost everything was lost. Except for her life, that is. That’s good, yeah?
So, there she was, a refugee among many, and there was nothing really she could do. BUT. She /could/ do something. Join some mercenaries. New Eden. From what she had heard from the adverts, they were decent enough—high turnover rate, apparently, but that was to be expected. They also had a medical plan, warm food, bedding, all at the expense of one’s life, apparently. She took it. And has NEVER looked back.
The parents of Istus--Bhann’Hanni vas Stayya and Vheya’Hanni vas Stayya--were both a couple of the traders aboard the vessel. They had the personality requiring it, and the intelligence to make the deals required. So, when Istus was born, she was… better off than most quarians. Imagine two charismatic, pragmatic parents with shrewd business-sense raising a child.
Needless to say, Istus was a cunning girl with an appetite for knowledge. Her parents found themselves comfortable in raising the kid; they have been planning for it, after all. And they had made the necessary request to the captain, and had that verified. They were, in full, excellent parents supporting of the child’s needs and interests. And GOODNESS, did she have some interests.
In school, she was ravenous in her desire, her /need/ to learn. She devoured information as soon as she was presented it, and was, by all accounts, a model student. Her quick mind proved useful in technical skills, particularly with programming, coding, and general data-centric aspects of modern tech.
Before long (which is to say, 18 years) she was ready to be sent out into the galaxy on her Pilgrimage! Her, alongside a few trusted friends, loaded onto a shuttle, and went off into the great unknown, with a premarked destination; Omega. That was a mistake.
Shortly after arrival, the ship took off to rejoin the Flotilla proper, and they were left to fend for themselves. What Istus did not account for was the chaos of the world that they had just joined would force upon them. A day after arrival, the third member of their party—a young thing named Shiann—was simply… lost. They had her one moment, and then she just disappeared. In searching for her, they found nothing. Nothing at all.
They lost one another there, literally and metaphorically. She was hopeful before, and that was stripped away, like bleach cleaning off stains. Istus was worn down to her bare, basic principles, and then even moreso. Where she was kind, it was hidden, and replaced with this aloofness, this façade of not caring. Did she care? Could she care anymore? No.
She became different. Internally, externally. She hid herself, tried to make her as unnoticeable as possible, the smallest target as possible. Something that could be ignored, overlooked. And it worked. For a time.
Istus was stilled with tech, being able to debug, reprogram, and fix most things she could get her hands on—if the issues weren’t necessarily physical—and could make a pretty penny off of that. But her friend? He had no real marketable skills on Omega. He could fix stuff, yeah, but no one wanted to… hire that. She got lucky /sometimes/, but he got nothing. Nothing what-so-ever. She had no idea that he was so stressed—maybe she wasn’t paying enough attention—and his warning signs were left unheeded, or unanswered.
He asked for help in finding a job, and she obliged; she tried to help, but he could never hold it down. It was too much for him, he’d say. It was, truly. Omega was too much for them both. Sadly, three months into Omega, one night she wakes up and finds all their credits, all their meds, all their EVERYTHING gone. And so was he.
She was different after that. Very, very different. Somehow down the line she managed to get enough credits to leave Omega after a year or so, and managed to move somewhere else. The Citadel. It wasn’t any better there—maybe a bit cleaner, less chance of exploding—it was exactly like Omega. She took odd jobs, worked odd hours, got staggered pay. Sometimes, she wasn’t EVEN paid. What sort of pseudo-existence was this?
But then something horrific happened. The attack on the Citadel. The geth were the least of her worries; she just wanted to get by, get something of note, then leave for the Flotilla. But no. The horrors from the past of her species came to haunt her, came to wreak havoc and destruction on the Citadel. She never really /cared/ for the Council—they were a bunch of big hats with big nerves to toss out the quarians, to not assist them in any issues what-so-ever, but they didn’t deserve THAT.
No one deserved that. Not even those big hats.
The galaxy just continued to erode after that. Shepard was a shitter, through and through. So when he died, there were genuinely celebrations (hidden, at the very least), and then more dread. The geth got them, apparently, or it was something else. Probably something else. A couple more years, Shepard emerges from the grave with the apparent assistance of human-supremacists. Cerberus. It was at this time Istus just, bugs out.
She packs her bags, liquidizes her funds, and sets off to go as far away from that nonsense as possible, though apparently not far enough. She drifted from station to station, planet to planet, until she had barely anything left, and even THEN, something awful happened. The Reaper War.
The colony she was on was saved of a majority of that widespread destruction the galaxy was forced to endure for a few months, but the Reapers came (as they did), and almost everything was lost. Except for her life, that is. That’s good, yeah?
So, there she was, a refugee among many, and there was nothing really she could do. BUT. She /could/ do something. Join some mercenaries. New Eden. From what she had heard from the adverts, they were decent enough—high turnover rate, apparently, but that was to be expected. They also had a medical plan, warm food, bedding, all at the expense of one’s life, apparently. She took it. And has NEVER looked back.
Character Goal/Skills:
Following the destruction and ruination that the Reaper War brought, there is most likely a massive void in power in the galaxy, leading to strife, crime, homelessness, and lack of employment. The New Eden mercenary company gives those with the skills required to join their corps a semblance of structure, order, money, and many other requirements for living in this unmistakably /new/ galaxy. She wants—nay--/needs/ that in order to survive.
As for her skills, she has a common technical aptitude common amongst quarians; a real techwizard when it comes to code, or data, or programs. You know. Granted that a majority of the ship’s systems are reliant upon code and the fact that a majority of ships in Mass Effect (if not all of them) have some sort of computing system that would require constant monitoring to make sure said coding doesn’t get fucked up, it’d be useful, yeah? She can also do some minor repairs on a myriad of vehicles, a majority of which being impossibly out of date and out of circulation, but she can help with ventilation systems!
