Tuttle Blacktail – that’s DOCTOR Tuttle Blacktail to you – is a junior researcher at the Perihelion Institute of Cybernetics on Verces. Tuttle started out as a ship’s mechanic but quickly discovered he had an aptitude for computer systems, at which point he turned his eye to the world of academia to further his training.
Years later, after achieving his doctorate (a fact he is sometimes obnoxiously proud of), Tuttle took a junior position at Perihelion, but his projects tended to be on the low end of the priority list due to his unconventional ideas and general lack of people skills. As a result, Tuttle has recently returned to his early spacefaring ways to help secure his own funding for his research.
Tuttle’s most recent creation is the Cybernetic Hybrid Dynamic Response Rover (C.H.D.R.R.) to assist him in his travels, both to serve as his bodyguard and to field-test some of his more advanced AI designs (two birds, one stone!), a design which he is constantly fine-tuning.
Even Dr. Blacktail himself would admit that C.H.D.R.R. Version 1.0 is a fairly rudimentary implementation of his overall plan, built almost entirely for combat operations.
Jump jets for limited vertical mobility, an advanced sensor array that allows limited threat detection outside the visible spectrum – unfortunately, his weaponry is rudimentary, as Dr. Blacktail’s requests for military-grade weaponry were met with pushback from the local authorities on Verces.
As C.H.D.R.R. grows and evolves, the hope is to create an independent entity capable of a more diverse array of tasks, not just beating things with a glorified stick. But for now … BEATING PROTOCOL ENGAGED!
Growing up on Castroval is not easy, even if you have a family. Hirogi had to use his wits and stealth to survive the many predators that populated the areas he called home. As an outcast orphan, Hirogi struggled to stay 10 steps ahead of the fauna that sought to make dinner of him daily.
Eventually, through wits, stealth and, in no small measure luck, Hirogi managed to find himself in one of the larger city-states. There he thrived and was able to devote his time honing his skills as a petty sneak thief and all-around rogue.
It was no surprise that at the ascension to manhood he became Damaya and not the crude Korasha. Charismatic and quick, Hirogi caught the attention of a trained operative named Darvin (only after a horribly managed pickpocket attempt). Instead of calling the authorities – or worse – Darvin took him into the fold and trained him in the stealthy arts. After 3 years apprenticeship and becoming one of his best earners, Darvin set him up with some basic equipment and bid him good luck, to seek his fortune among the stars.
However, Hirogi, had some unfinished business to take care of. Thus, began the Great Hunt! Hirogi was relentless in his pursuit of the predators of his homeworld, meticulously tacking down and killing each one while taking a trophy commemorating each victory.
With his lust for revenge on his childhood tormentors sated, Hirogi ventured back to the city-state and decided it was time to study the other life forms in the vast reaches of the galaxy. He needed to understand every aspect of life and what to expect, as only through understand could he prove his superiority. Hirogi now seeks to explore the galaxy as Hunter, ever searching for challenging new prey!
If one were to ask him, Rusty Carter might tell you that he was the son of an important member of the Pact Council or a decorated Steward, or maybe he might hint at some sinister connections from the lower decks of his native Absolom Station. It depends on who asks him though. Rusty has a long history of making sure to impress the person he’s speaking with while never quite saying anything that one might, objectively and boringly, call “the truth.”
In reality, Rusty’s family was, if anything, dull. He was raised middle-middle class in a section of the Station that most people wouldn’t recall five minutes after walking through it. It drove young Rusty crazy. He imagined such a universe of excitement while only seeing banality around him. He ran from that life quite early, and if his parents hadn’t quite planned on giving him his full inheritance then he was confident it rightfully belonged to him. So, no need to waste time on remorse. Life was just beginning then, looking back was a waste of time.
Rusty can, and will, talk his way out of every problem he can (which is ironic since he often talks his way into said problems). In a pinch, he knows how to use a gun, and he got his pilot’s license early in case he ever had to jump stations, but he’s always happiest with a pocket full of someone else’s money that they freely gave him because they liked him so very much.
Or at any rate, they liked the man he claimed to be.
In this world, a fella couldn’t catch a break if fell onto a carton of eggs. Maurice’s old man had saddled him with a name that was downright rotten, and his luck wasn’t any different. Maury’s glory days, if you could all them that, reached their zenith when he served as an ordinance officer in the Vesk army. He didn’t see a lot of action, but at least the fellas in his squad renamed him Mo. He won their friendship during his losing streak (still unbroken) at poker. The fellas were always eager to welcome him into a red-hot game.
Mo left the armed services early, giving him the freedom to really screw up his life. He soon earned the street-rep of undependable low-life, whose bad judgment and bad luck seemed to compete with one another for dominance. His heady schemes always failed, usually before they had enough momentum to even land him in jail. Soon even the Vesk criminals shunned him as an “untouchable.”
Being rejected by anyone capable of landing a big score has made Mo sore at himself forever leaving the army. These days, a world-weary Mo picks up weapons again, perhaps to relive a past he never had. If capers were going to blow up in his face, at least he’d have heavy weapons and explosives nearby. They would complement both his short temper and knack for desperation.