Monomachiarum is a multifandom experiece that takes the characters into the chaotic future of the 30th century in the great expanse of space. Our lore is a combination of worlds brought in from other franchises, lore created by the site founder, and user-submitted information in order to make a vast and diverse setting. Add your pages to our grand story no matter who your characters might be or where they came from before. This is a place meant to explore possibilities and open new doors. Canons and OCs are welcome, just so long as they can fit into the setting with a little bit of reasonable modification here and there if necessary. So what are you waiting for? Join us today! If you'd like to get to know our community more, feel free to check out our Discord channel.
May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
Identifying Features: Aside from the relative rarity of his race being an identifying feature on all its own, Tycho bears a rather recognizable face tattoo, meant to mimic the seal-line of an atmospheric respirator: a band of red-inked fur that starts at the cheekbones, crossing under both eyes before coming to a point on the bridge of his muzzle. His eyes and ears are framed by small modules of cyberware, along the outer corners of the eye sockets and embedded along the upper corners of his ears, respectively– part of a suite of neural/sensory implants designed by his sister to help him interface with human technology, as well as protect his sensitive hearing from the sounds of combat.
Overall: Tycho is a member of the Vlaka, a species of Lupine Anthropoids from the now dead world of Lajok; a backwater iceball tucked away in a previously-forgotten corner of the Galactic Federation. Despite coming from the generation of his people born just after the death of their homeworld, and thus having never known its conditions, he bears all the biological adaptations of a species used to an unforgivingly cold climate. His body is covered from head to toe in heavy white fur that grows particularly thick into a mane along the neck and jawline, framing a long muzzle, piercing yellow eyes, and articulate ears. He stands at a little above the average height for his species at 6’8”, and is built proportionately in terms of musculature. While not entirely without body fat, a hard military lifestyle ensures that such things remain at a relative minimum.
The Vlaka’s fashion sense directly reflects the clashing of his childhood as a Night City street kid with his current career as a corporate mercenary. Style was everything in Night City, and it remains a part of his upbringing that he goes to great lengths to preserve. To someone as expressive as a Vlaka, sometimes the right look can say what a lacking facial expression cannot. At a superficial glance, he just looks like a well-equipped Edgerunner, the subtlety of such being often quite deliberate… but to the discerning, Tycho’s usual style is a meticulous blend of Neokitsch and Neomiltarism, layering over one another in variable degrees depending on his mood. Never enough style to outweigh function, but never enough function to drown style. He tends to prefer emphasizing accents of bright colors, typically either yellow or red, over a monochromatic base of black or gray– mimicking the way his bright yellow eyes contrast with a head-to-toe coat of stark white fur.
The outfit he’s seen wearing most often is his favorite yellow “crystalshock bomber” jacket, a rugged and techy Night City trademark that holds immense sentimental value, worn over the black combat undersuit shown in the faceclaim, with matching combat boots and a heavy pouch-laden gunbelt. The ideal blend of stylish, rugged, form-fitting, and tactically viable. The jacket’s Denki-shin thermoset hybrid material has been replaced with layers of aramid soft-armor, which may as well be a cardinal sin in streetwear circles back home given the jacket’s rarity… but out in the Frontier, Tycho would rather survive getting shot than die in style. It was given to him by a member of the Tyger Claws gang, whom he used to be romantically involved with.
All of this is under the condition that he’s even wearing civilian clothing, naturally. While the particular duties of his unit don’t leave such a thing out of the question, he’s usually required to wear much more subtle clothing during low-profile urban operations… if not some manner of full battledress, ergonomics permitting. Given their relative rarity, opportunities for the Vlaka to wear whatever he wants are never taken for granted.
The Personality:
Personal Strengths:
Inescapably Empathetic: Thanks to their naturally keen perception and their origins as a pack-hunting species, Vlaka are readily in tune with the emotions of both themselves and others. Tycho can understand people’s feelings quite well, even if he may not always know what to do with that information.
Perceptive, Emotionally or Otherwise: The natural aids he possesses in terms of raw perceptive ability, such as a significantly enhanced sense of smell and low-light vision, extend just the same into his ability to read other people.
Detail-Oriented: Tycho has a natural mind for precision, and puts great importance into such things... even if he may sometimes lose sight of the bigger picture and overthink something to hell and back, it allows him to stay disciplined and organized without inhibiting his social skills.
Strong-Willed: Beyond the minimal enclaves of non-human colonists that remain scattered throughout the territory, the Frontier is a human-dominated region through and through. From day one, Tycho and his family had to adapt to a world not designed for them… from the mundane basics, like food and clothing, to the profound… things like neural-coding in cyberware, work, acceptance of their peers, and general human prejudice. Though some are better than others and friends aren’t impossible to make, the latter simply remains a fact of life in the Frontier. Tycho remains determined to persevere in an environment that makes life for him generally rather difficult; not about to let circumstance, biological disadvantage, or said general prejudice keep him from his goals.
While bitterness towards it all very much exists, Tycho ultimately came to the conclusion a long time ago that holding resentment for a situation he can’t control is rather pointless… and that instead of finding ways to unhealthily cope with his shortcomings, his work with Arasaka taught him that it feels much better to succeed in spite of them. Personal improvement is more meaningful to him now than the temporary highs of the many, many vices he used to dance with during his time in Night City.
Spirited: Growing up with gangs of fellow street urchins in Night City readily gives one not just a sense of their place in the universe, but a burning desire to spit in that place’s face and make one’s own fate. Despite his career path, much of that spirit has persevered into his adult life, manifesting itself as a clear understanding of just how much his freedom means to him.
Charming(?): Charismatic, to the degree that his disposition allows. Primitive tendencies juxtaposed by uninhibited emotional open-ness and carefully-practiced social skills, all in a package of fur and fangs. Tycho’s natural demeanor may be intimidating, but it only motivates the Vlaka to be that much more expressive, animated, and sentimental to compensate. It may be awkward to some, or charming to others. He doesn’t really care.
Personal Weaknesses:
Chronic Overthinker: Tycho will habitually put far too much thought into anything, and will frequently find himself weighing options even after a decision has been hastily made. Is constantly plagued by doubt, indecision, and deliberation… all of which will express themselves unfortunately a little too well in his passive demeanor, most often in the form of an absolutely glass-cutting thousand-yard stare that is bound to look rather unnerving.
Easily Manipulated: With the right means and angle, namely the removal of anything for his perception to read, Tycho’s social open-ness is very easy to take advantage of. It’s not that he has trouble keeping secrets, for that is something he’s capable of doing… but depending on how one goes about acquiring such a thing, his trust is relatively easy to earn, with loyalty soon to follow.
Tough Shell, Poor Inhibitions: Intense emotional responses can turn his reserved demeanor on its head– getting him to crack in the first place isn’t necessarily easy, but once such a thing occurs, little more than the base instincts the Vlaka are so prone to flow through his mind. Were this to happen in a combat scenario, it could potentially affect his decision-making, driving him to shirk critical thinking in favor of being more impulsive and reactionary.
Belligerent: As opposed to many Vlaka who would see the value in peaceful mediation, a childhood spent in a relatively unsafe environment immediately followed by a military career have dulled the edge of this particular piece of wisdom. Unlike many of his species, Tycho’s favored method of conflict resolution isn’t through mediation, rather the precise application of overwhelming force… as it’s something he sees as far simpler than the alternative, particularly when time may not always be of the essence.
Juggling Bitterness: A constant personal struggle that tests the limits of Tycho’s personal will. The difficulties presented to a non-human in the Frontier can most certainly have an effect on one’s mental health, and even though the Vlaka possesses a relatively positive mindset now in regards to his situation, this wasn’t always the case. Day by day he struggles to outgrow the constant feelings of frustration and resentment towards humanity that plagued his volatile youth– an easy extension of his sentiment towards the corps he and his crew ran against.
Since leaving Estro, Tycho’s come to see just how “good” he had it in Night City. Everything that made life bearable- friends, family, reasonable accommodation, the assumption by most that he was just some heavily-augmented “exotic” and not an actual alien, good food- got left behind when he pursued work offworld. Trying not to let the bitterness that comes with being his social situation cloud his judgment or compromise his greater goals has become a renewed struggle, one that leaves him constantly questioning whether or not this is all worth it. Personal improvement remains one of his only effective coping mechanisms, for it’s one of the only positive aspects of his life that can support the positive mindset he tries harder and harder day by day to hold on to.
Habitual Perfectionist: Equal parts outlet for self-expression and coping mechanism, Tycho’s constant strive for personal improvement has spawned some just-as-unhealthy habits. Thanks in no small part to his general fear of failure, when it comes to practicing the skills he does possess, he’ll express frustration rather easily towards anything he deems less than satisfactory… and doubly so for not getting new things right on the first try. Anything less than perfect is relentlessly overthought and overstressed, blown far out of proportion in his own mind out of a fear of reaching his limits– something he deems absolutely unacceptable, if he’s to succeed in making a name for himself. He’ll push himself the extra length just to be “better,” either to meet his own expectations or those he assumes are placed upon him, feeling like he has no other choice but to do so.
Goals:
Leave Estero Behind: His most important aspiration is, ironically, also his most surface-level. Ever since Tycho and his sister were young, they knew that they wanted off their neon-soaked rock, both of them ever-aware of the dim and pointless future that awaited them as Street Kids in the Night City churn. Tycho wanted to explore the universe, and Astrid wanted to understand it. Both welcomed the certainty of leaving their home planet, which had started to feel more and more like a neon prison with each passing day since their father’s death.
Now, in the mere months leading up unto the present, Tycho managed to secure the opportunity of a lifetime– a transfer from Arasaka’s security detail to an IMC-affiliated mercenary company, and with it a final ride offworld. Meanwhile, Astrid remains in Night City, finishing her doctorate and securing her escape the academic way… and such a thing isn’t cheap. Every credit is sent her way as soon as he can get it. Everything in his power will be done to ensure that she isn’t left behind.
Climb the Ladder/Prove Himself: Ever since leaving Arasaka and being deferred by the IMC, Tycho has come to consider himself lucky that there are PMC companies even willing to give him the time of day… grateful that they didn’t share their parent conglomerate’s sentiments of him being more of a liability than an asset. With any luck, he hopes to show his new employers that he’s more than worth their time, aiming to make the most of the greater degree of freedom (and better paycheck) that contract work can offer. With the IMC still technically being his boss, it stands to remain that the greater the danger means the greater the pay… and at the very least, contractor work will likely be a little more exciting than the life of the average grunt.
Despite only recently becoming aware of them, Tycho has already come to venerate the IMC’s division of Titan Pilots. Exceptionally-trained soldiers of a limitless skill potential, without the need for any augments whatsoever… respected in their own right for the work they do, with ready access to the military’s most advanced equipment– most notably the all-powerful Titans themselves. To call that kind of life a dream job is to put it lightly, particularly that level of respect from his human peers… but unfortunately, it remains an idle fantasy at best, the disappointment of which being something Tycho tries not to think about. The possibility of him ever becoming a Pilot, a role designed for and exclusively catered to humans, is next to zero… but he can still wish he had his own giant combat mech. Who wouldn’t?
See the Stars: His means for helping to pay for Astrid’s school coincide perfectly with his own personal goals: find his place in the universe. Tycho’s sphere of understanding doesn’t extend that far beyond Night City’s borders, or the atmosphere of their home planet… and his sphere of knowledge doesn’t extend very far beyond the military. Should everything be done right, he’d like to change both. In many ways, it’s a renewed sense of defiant hope rekindled from his days as a troublemaker on Night City’s streets: whatever his place was in a universe much, much bigger than him, he wants that to be his decision and his alone.
Buy Better Gear: At present, Tycho’s equipment is only the best an Arasaka soldier’s salary could buy. A surplused IMC battle rifle, a .45 Auto sidearm that is all but obsolete in the grander scheme of the galaxy, a ludicrously impractical electromag handcannon, a plate carrier, a mangled headset, and a respirator designed for an actual dog– it’s not exactly an impressive kit, all in all, but right now he has no choice but to make the most of it. Until he has the money to buy wargear that might make his life a little easier, things like energy shielding or even just custom-fit boots, his fears of being seen as a liability to his team are only amplified that much further.
For the Vlaka: As Tycho grew up, his father’s broken history lessons fell less often on deaf ears. He knows his species got dealt a bad hand, and that the fate of Lajok had all but doomed the Vlaka to slowly being forgotten by galactic history. Whatever can be done to make a name for his species in the galactic community, by fame or infamy, has become a nebulous and profound aspiration. Given how far said ambitions extend beyond the capability of one soul, part of him simply chooses not to acknowledge the impossibility, likening such a thing to already admitting defeat. The same spirit that made him feel all but invincible under the boot of the corpo-cops back home is finding a way to shine through again, more defiant than ever, finally having something to latch onto once more. It’s the one sentiment from his youth that he’s reluctant to outgrow, as it becomes the sole thing keeping him going when his spirits are at their lowest.
As for how one single Frontier merc plans to accomplish something so profound, it very much remains to be seen… though Tycho certainly has no doubts in regards to his methods. Some may cause great change through science, art, performance, or politics, and he respects those means no less… but for now, all he has is a big gun and a bright jacket. To echo a sentiment repeated to himself time and time again, he’ll just have to make do.
Fears:
Loss of Family: If something were to ever happen to his twin sister, Tycho isn’t sure what he’d do. He fears for her safety far more than his own, no matter how well she can handle things on her own. Even now being so far away from her, he would do anything to keep her safe.
Confinement: Once free from his trauma, it took finally leaving his cage to realize how badly he never wanted to be in one again. Tycho fears confinement, and beyond that, failure. The latter enables the former, when one’s goals are to see as much of the universe as you can, learn from it, and ensure that your sibling will be able to do the same.
Failure to Succeed: On an existential level, he fears dying alone and forgotten, with nothing to his name, his sister’s, or that of his broken people. Whether it’s rational or not, Tycho refuses to accept the possibility of Lajok’s death meaning a just-as-slow and just-as-certain extinction for his species… and hopes that anything he achieves in life can better the fate of his people in some way. There’s a part of him that knows it’s next to impossible to accomplish such a thing alone, especially behind the stock of a gun… and thus the fears of failure in this respect are kept a little closer than his plans to prevent it. For how broadly this goal sweeps across all aspects of his life, this merely extends into a general fear of failure.
Left Behind: His reception by the IMC presented a new reality to Tycho, one that the Night City chaos ironically shielded him from for much of his life: in a military environment especially, him being of a different species than the average soldier presented more liabilities than benefits. Nothing is designed for him, from the weapons to the wargear, and he can only imagine how such difficulties bolster human prejudice towards a non-human species– an increasingly rare one, at that. Even if he managed to secure employment with one of the IMC’s satellite contractor companies, his rejection from the former has worn away at the optimism of serving with the latter. No matter how well he may or may not perform, there remains the looming fear that either his employers or his squadmates will deem him more trouble than he’s worth.
Existential/Subconscious Fears: Even more deeply buried in the Vlaka’s subconscious is an inherent, irrational fear of the cold. The stories of Lajok told by Tycho’s father ensured that he knew what happened to his homeworld, as slow and inevitable as it may have been, and that it was on a scale beyond anything he could imagine as a child. Every little chill or brush of air conditioning is a bad memory of a nightmare at best, or a mild spike of anxiety at worst. Existentially speaking, he fears the concept of entropy, even if he has no idea what that word means.
Overall: Tycho takes after many of the most common stereotypes associated with his people, for as much as said things exist… having gone so far as even to consciously lean into such them, as both a survival instinct during childhood and a means to weather Human prejudice through a certain kind of charm.
As is common with his species, his facial structure severely limits the extent to which emotional expression is possible, which can often make him appear more stoic or serious than he’s intending. In stark contrast, socially speaking, the Vlaka are generally quite “open” as a people… and have adapted rather quickly to having to “make up” for a relative lack of physical emotional expression, in the very short time they’ve been an interstellar species. A combination of impressive perceptive ability and the species’ vestigial instincts as pack animals have allowed them to be quite good at reading emotions– enough so to develop an understanding of how to communicate effectively with other species in a matter of mere years, as opposed to decades or centuries. Being a second-generation refugee, Tycho's ilk has only perfected these methods.
While his expression may end up seeming rather unreadable, he makes up for a lack of emotional expression physically with a greater level of articulation in other areas of communication… verbally, in particular. Him and others like him employ carefully-measured tones of speech, expressions of the eyes, and exaggerated body language meant to mimic human analogues most effectively. In an ironic contrast to the original problem the Vlaka had with such things, this has given particularly second-generation refugees a kind of unintended charisma, between being readily open with others and quite expressive in their body language.
Tycho’s particular case is a study in how much of one’s personality is absorbed by one’s culture, as opposed to inherited by one’s ancestry. Vlaka were never a particularly intelligent species to begin with, at least when put in context of their technological level– they adhere to base instincts rather easily, often to the point of supplanting reason or logic. At times Tycho can be this prone to being somewhat-literally “dog-brained,” but such tendencies appear nothing but charming when juxtaposed with his personality as a whole. On one hand, his father’s attempts to teach him and his twin sister the value of wisdom, patience, and leadership haven’t fallen on deaf ears… particularly the notes about being the one to always speak the least, and listen the most. On the other hand, however, he and his sibling grew up relatively unsupervised on the breakneck-pace streets of Night City– quickly falling in love with the bright lights, growling bass, and the brazen camaraderie of their fellow Street Kids… relishing in the trouble that was always not far behind. Even if he’s slowly come to outgrow that life, he remains no less generally friendly and group-oriented… eager for that same sense of camaraderie now found in the life of a soldier, for as much as he continues to fear the scorn of his peers.
The History:
Family Information: Even from the beginning, the Kalhalati family was unusually nuclear compared to most of their kin. Tycho’s father Rkholdir is the only surviving member of a litter of 5; those who would’ve been his relatives have either fallen in the many desperate battles that raged on Lajok’s surface during its final decades, or were simply taken by the elements. His mother, a reclusive and largely-antisocial naturalist by the name of Rhhiga, passed away shortly after being forced to leave the planet. Any information on her extended family is unknown even to Rkholdir, as it was a topic she would usually avoid quite defensively.
From their relationship, three children were born: a stillborn son in their first few years together, and fraternal twins a number of years following. The twins were named Tyrrnhagahn and Artriufrea by birth, but upon their arrival to Estero and relocation to Night City, they both adopted the human-adjacent names of Tycho and Astrid.
At present, neither of them have had relationships with anyone else that’ve been closer than flings or parasocial crushes on braindance stars.
Homeworld: Lajok was an isolated Earth-sized planet orbiting a red giant unceremoniously named 2501 Loch– located actually quite close to Federation space, nestled on the edge of a dark nebula in the small “gulf” of uncharted space between TX611 and The Hole. It sits approximately equidistant between the northwestern edge of Federation Space to the north, and the northern edge of the Frontier to the south. Originally named 2501 Loch IV when it was just another name on a list, the planet was redesignated to Athenaeum-IV, following a provisional re-naming of the entire system a little over two centuries ago.
The most distant of the four planets in the system, Athenaeum-IV originally existed outside its parent star’s habitable zone until relatively late in its life cycle. Shortly after the M-class star finished its transition from main sequence to a red giant, a rogue gas giant of sizable mass arrived in the system, drastically altering the orbit of every other celestial body once it was "caught" by the aging star. The resulting gravitational alterations shifted the icy planet, itself being all but barren, just into its parent star’s habitable zone. Stronger tidal forces and a closer proximity to its parent star, cooler as it may now have been, made conditions only barely just right for organic life to anxiously develop… but how exactly this happened remains a topic of great debate, as the chronology doesn’t quite add up.
In its new orbital path, the planet would see a significant increase in planetary impacts over the course of the next few million years, including a dwarf planet nearly a quarter of its own size. While naturally catastrophic, the body had come to be so sufficiently bombarded that it effectively re-accreted itself, “restarting” the dynamo effect now that most of the planet, inside and out, was sufficiently melted. In no small part thanks to this process, the planet’s mantle contained rather high concentrations of neodymium, boron, and cobalt… enough of so to actually have an effect on the spin of the planetary core. As a result, Athenaeum-IV had an unusually strong magnetic field– more than capable of keeping most of the giant star’s intense radiation away from the surface, despite the proximity necessary for life. As noted by a detailed report of the planet by the Federation Exploration Corps, however, even with these conditions met the evolution of life on the surface wouldn’t be without extreme adversity. Temperatures on the planet’s surface were cold even before the parent star had begun to slowly die, far too much so for life to develop at the pace it did anywhere but by geothermal vents deep below the planet's oceans. Even so, surface-level life seemed to have simply developed anyway, despite the conditions suggesting such to be an improbability.
A popular but unsettling theory suggests that early life on Athenaeum-IV was artificially “seeded” by some outside source, and that the planet was partially terraformed… as suggested by geological surveys of the planet, cross-referenced with documented Vlaka history. All of the supposed “cradles” of the first Vlaka civilizations, some of them quite separate from each other, are within relative proximity to large impact craters bearing unusual characteristics along the planet’s equator… all of which bearing similar characteristics themselves, alongside trace elements and age. Vlaka geologists originally thought these to be long-dead supervolcanoes, as claims were insistently made that no traces of meteorites were ever found… but orbital scans suggest otherwise. Of the many mysteries that have been associated with the Athenaeum system, this is merely the second biggest.
= = =
History of the Species: The Loch system was a mystery hidden in plain sight. Located just close enough to charted territory for it to be on the Exploration Corps’s radar but just far away enough for them to not really care, it was ultimately the rogue gas giant that attracted their attention– completely by accident. Approximately two centuries ago, an Exploration Corps deep space research station on the aforementioned northwestern edge of Federation space started receiving anomalous laser communications from somewhere in Loch’s direction. These transmissions swept across their region of space in a pattern irregular enough to suggest that its source, whatever it was, seemed to be sending them completely randomly into deep space. Aside from the fact that these were merely light-based messages and thus likely centuries old or more, perhaps even more intriguing were messages’ contents; a completely unrecognizable lexicon that resembled a form of archaic machine code. Ultimately that was enough to pique the Corps’s interest, who sent a vessel out to investigate the source’s location only a number of months later. The power required to send that kind of communication over such a distance alone was worth prompting an investigation.
The messages suddenly ceased, about halfway through the trip there.
Upon arrival in the system, the Exploration Corps found that the messages that drew them here came not from any of the rocky planets, but from somewhere deep in the atmosphere of their newest celestial neighbor… far beyond the point at which any atmospheric submersible could reach. A thorough survey scan revealed a gargantuan superstructure of unknown origin somewhere near the solid core of the planet, and it's this structure that put this nearly-forgotten system on the map of the Federation scientific community… not the doomed civilization yet unbeknownst to them, just next door. To this day, nothing has come thus far of attempting to furtherly study this object, as it remains completely unresponsive to any form of communication.
The most popular theory surrounding this discovery suggests that this structure is some form of “Jupiter-brain;” a colloquial term first coined by Terran Confederation scientists. Supported by the resemblance of its mysterious emissions to code of some kind, it’s theorized that this superstructure was some manner of planet-sized computational array. The object, and the system by proxy, were given the provisional name of Athenaeum– born of the optimism that the array might contain a rich library of information, should it ever actually be reached.
Once it was disappointingly determined that this “Object Athenaeum” was well beyond possible reach for the moment, the Federation ship moved on to surveying the other planets in the system more thoroughly, re-designating their names to Athenaeum I-through-IV, with Athenaeum-II being the gas giant.
Concerns had initially been raised by the age of the system’s star, upon first arrival in the system– Athenaeum was on the very tail end of its life cycle as a red giant, and wasn’t far from the process of shedding its outer layers. Normally this would have merely been grounds for studying the system further as an area of scientific interest, but said concerns were only amplified by the discovery of an atomic-era civilization on the surface of Athenaeum-IV.
The Vlaka species developed approximately 180,000 years ago, with early civilizations dating as far back as about 10,000 years prior to present day. Their modern civilization had only just reached the atomic era, with the discovery of nuclear fusion by one of the planet’s major industrial powers happening a little under two centuries ago– right around the same time that their global society fractured. While previously a globalist meritocracy, the advent of rapid industrialization, global communication, and atomic power caused a rapid political decentralization that gave way to the rise of nationalism among the planet’s scattered population centers. The sentiment of the meritocracy remained, but shifted from the values of the individual to taking more pride for the abilities of a wider community. A global council-based government wholly collapsed into countless industrial nation-states, who immediately began to swallow each other up in a long and calamitous world war that lasted about 90 years. By the time the war “ended,” what remained were 4 imperial superpowers that only managed to usher in an era of tentative peace with each other through the mutually-assured destruction of hydrogen weapons. These powers remained locked in a multi-faceted cold war with each other until the planet’s evacuation.
According to the most recent Federation survey conducted at the time, Athenaeum was mere centuries away from total collapse, threatening to shed its stellar envelope and certainly wipe out all life on Lajok in the process. Higher concentrations of stellar radiation had already begun to impact the planet’s resilient magnetic field over the course of the past half of a century, notably causing intense global Aurora Borealis events from which the planet’s numerous nascent doomsday cults owed their origins… assuming that this was a warning from the gods, that wasn’t to be taken lightly. In a way, perhaps they were right, though certainly not in the way they had hoped… particularly when strange-looking aerobrigs began to descend from the sky, bearing people from a world beyond their own, bringing omens of a slow but certain doom.
Interfering with the Vlaka presented a difficult weighing of circumstances for the Exploration Corps. On one hand, their technological level was… adequate, and their situation certainly called for an intervention of some kind, but to say that the global political situation was volatile was to put such things lightly. Technologically uplifting one of the empires could risk resentment or retaliation from the other 3. In a manner similar to that of ensuring that all was fair between temperamental children, the process of making Federation presence known to the Vlaka would have to be equal parts measured and simultaneous… eating away at time they yet barely had. All of this was transpiring at the height of the Second Machine War, and the Federation had much bigger problems on hand than a struggling race on the edge of its territory. Little resources could really be spared, beyond a generous minimum… and it was mostly up to the Vlaka themselves to make do with the designs and information they’d been given. It wouldn’t exactly work out for them.
Reactions to another species from beyond the stars were mixed on Lajok, in no small part thanks to the apocalyptic tidings they brought with them. Each of the 4 emperors at the very least entertained the possibility that this was some form of trick or ploy by one of the other 3 to get them to abandon their land and resources… and though there were many in the upper echelon of the imperial courts that enabled said delusions on all sides, the common folk were rarely so indoctrinated. Revolts became more and more frequent by the month across the globe, ratcheting up in intensity as time passed, to the point where imperial leadership had simply no choice but to relent. The Federation delegates were finally given credence, and a plan was finally put into motion to technologically uplift the Vlaka- or at least those who wanted to leave- to a state of FTL capability.
The next 175 years were an unprecedented but short-lived era for the Vlaka, one that saw global cooperation the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the days of its antiquated global council. 3 of the 4 empires outright collapsed, once again fragmenting into small industrial principalities… this time with their goals dead-set on the plans set in motion, making cooperation with their species as a whole a point of pride taken at the community level. Competition came not to destroy the enemy, but to outperform and outproduce them– they all were part of one greater plan, after all, but no harm came from using community spirit to keep optimism high. Bit by bit, year by year, plan by plan… Federation guidance was followed as closely as Vlaka scientists could keep up, bewildered as they found themselves again and again. For all intents and purposes, they had no choice for the sake of their future to construct technology previously thought only to exist in the realm of their science-fiction. It wasn’t an easy task, and they needed every year they had.
Even so, this paradigm shift was not universal. The stubborn denial of the warnings and persistent imperial sentiments echoed throughout this period from the 1 empire that remained, and though there were no documented attempts to directly sabotage the global evacuation effort, a hoarding of raw materials and frustrating trade sanctions made sure that progress was impeded in nearly every way but direct action… furtherly slowing technological development across the globe. By 2945, mere decades before Athenaeum's projected collapse, this level of interference began to take the route most were expecting… ratcheting up from sanctions into outright sabotage, and actual use of military force. History slowly began to repeat itself in a way, as the sole remaining empire deemed it their right to conquer those that clearly couldn’t govern themselves. Despite efforts across the globe, the evacuation effort slowly began to lose traction, as most of Lajok’s more industrial principalities had to withdraw from the project to fortify their territories out of fear of imperial offensives.
The fate of Lajok would have largely been sealed were it not for the timely arrival of an emissary from Galaxy Railways, who had been monitoring the situation on Lajok for the better part of the last decade. Once it was deemed that the Vlaka had fallen behind on progress to such a degree that planetary evacuation would be impossible without help, GalRail ultimately decided to step in and offer to assist in the undertaking themselves, given the intergalactic organization specialized in such a thing… and to the scale of GalRail operations, one planet was hardly a daunting task. An assisted evacuation effort was met with resounding approval and cooperation from the vast majority of Lajok’s population, who were frankly by this time all but desperate to leave the planet.
After approximately 5 or so more years of preparation and weathering imperial interference, Galaxy Railways succeed rather easily in getting approximately 3/4ths of the planet’s population offworld– more than enough, considering the non-insignificant portion of the population that, yet still, stubbornly refused to leave. Easily the largest diaspora in the Vlaka’s history, they took to the stars with an uncertain hope… fearful for quite the unknown future, but at the very least comforted by Federation guidance.
Those that chose to stay were immediately consumed by another cataclysmic world war. A desperate power struggle immediately erupted among imperial holdouts and religious bastions in the years following the diaspora, both of whom vying for control of the planet’s remaining resources with a primitive viciousness. By the time Athenaeum finally shed its solar envelope and solar fire swept through the system, Lajok had already been reduced to a wasteland of radioactive slush.
= = =
History of the Family: Rkholdir Kalhalati was a middling-level military governor owing allegiance to the Gknhrur Constituency– the last of Lajok’s industrial empires. Ironically, the Gknhrur had been largely considered to be the “weakest” of Lajok’s 4 industrial empires at the height of their respective era, but ultimately succeeded where the others had “failed” in its persistence of identity through the the recent global decentralization. Now the only remaining military superpower on the planet, the Constituency had all the motivation it needed to try and conquer the bones of its former rivals… but their control over the general populace weakened with each passing year, even in spite of their survival seeing a stark resurgence in Gknhrur nationalism.
The Constituency had slowly been crumbling from within thanks to the rising influence of a religious movement called the Auroran Writ. Despite having existed since shortly before the Federation’s arrival, they were still considered a cult by most on Lajok, namely out of a universal disagreement for their methods, and less so for their tenets. The Auroran Writ insisted that Vlaka society needed to return to their old ways of a wholly global society, lest their lust for technological power create the means to potentially surpass the gods of their creation myths and incur their wrath. Their tenets focused on naturalism, environmentalism, and a rejection of advanced technology– not quite to the point of luddism, but damn near close. They considered themselves druids as opposed to paladins or crusaders, as if it would save the figureheads of this movement any face… but they were no less malignant, and proudly declared responsibility for the brutal acts of terrorism that had plagued the Gknhrur Constituency for the better part of 150 years. Tycho’s mother Rhhiga grew up a member of this cult, remaining reasonably devout in her beliefs until her own parents fell to common illnesses that modern medicine was more than capable of treating. The callousness shown towards her for her grief hardened said grief into resentment, in no time at all. She sought asylum in Rkholdir’s administration, offering information on her former brothers and sisters in exchange for her immunity to capital punishment. Rkholdir saw it fit to honor that agreement, even if his subordinates weren’t so eager. There were those directly underneath him in the chain of command who saw an opportunity in Rkholdir’s devotion to his word– readily and easily pinning it as a compromise in his loyalty to the empire, claiming he had resorted to consorting with the enemy. Together, Rkholdir and Rhhiga were forced to flee the Gknhrur Constituency outright, finding refuge in the surrounding independent principalities. Like any who would have otherwise willingly fled the ignorance of the last empire, they were welcomed with open arms… so long as they could either assist in the greater goal of the planet, or at least pick up a gun and defend their new home.
The two of them remained together, less out of attachment and more just to not feel like lone outcasts in a foreign country. Eventually feelings for one another did develop, but only after the two of them had fully come to process the scale of the task lain before them: the aliens were right, this world is doomed, and while they were reveling in their own kinds of ignorance for such truths, they were both in some way impeding the global progress being made to escape that doom. Shame came first, then acceptance, then determination… and ultimately love for each other, born out of a pride for seeing how far the other had come since their lives so drastically changed.
Their ritual of matrimony came only a year after the arrival of GalRail to the system. The great ships of their exodus remained unfinished, but solace descended from the sky anyway… and all that was left to do now was prepare for the journey that lay ahead for the Vlaka people. Rhhiga was strangely eager to bring a child into the world during those final 5 years, certain that they would be the first of a new generation of “star-born” souls that would guide their people to a better future. Their first child unfortunately never saw life, hurting the woman’s spirits deeply… but she remained no less determined to try to bring new life, even as their species was about to lose so much of it. She became pregnant once again in the final year of preparation, and knowing the children would surely be born offworld brought her no greater joy. Rkholdir never understood it.
The two of them joined approximately 5 billion other Vlaka, across hundreds of thousands of GalRail ships, in their species’ greatest achievement since the discovery of atomic power. Unbeknownst to them, however, plans for their ultimate destination were being hotly debated among GalRail officials… for galactic events at the time were suddenly putting them in a difficult position.
By 2950, the Galactic Federation had already been plunged into the depths of the Kromus war. Even systems along the upper northwestern edge of GalFed territory were still at risk of being swept up into the conflict, and the situation as a whole was deemed far too unsafe for a species that was new even to interstellar travel. The only remaining practical solution was the Frontier, on the edge of Terran Confederation space… relatively untouched by the conflict, at least compared to everywhere else. Given the overwhelming population of the territory were humans, it wasn’t exactly an ideal destination, particularly by GalRail standards… but they had few other viable options. At the very least, non-human denizens were present, even if in limited numbers… and there were plenty of only sparsely-colonized worlds that could perhaps benefit from a bolstered population.
Not all those who embarked on the diaspora made it safely to a new home. Thanks to the increased presence of pirates throughout much of Federation space and the raging Kromus war that brought them, a number of ships were lost in transit during the exodus. To this day, April 28th 2951 on the Terran calendar remains a kind of cultural holiday for reverent Vlaka traditionalists… marking a day of remembrance for every soul lost in the dark, honoring those who dared to defy fate and secure a new future for themselves.
It was on the very first of these holidays, aboard a ship bound for the mysterious new world called “Estero,” that a certain pair of twins were born. The birth of Tyrrnhagahn and Artriufrea Kalhalati put them among the very first of a generation to be born offworld from Lajok, and this was taken as a sign of good fortune to come for those aboard… though for as much joy as it brought their mother to see life created free from the bounds of their doomed world, the birth proved too costly on her body. Rhhiga passed away, not long after… mourning the life she’d never have with her children, but having no regrets.
Rkholdir arrived on Estero all but broken. Consumed by the grief of losing his mate, burdened by the care of two rambunctious children, and daunted by the sudden necessity of adaptation to a world that was entirely alien to him… it became overwhelming, quickly. The first of innumerable breakdowns came and went, marking the beginning of a slow and malignant pattern of mental decline… but for the time being, his kids would remain his guiding light, and sole motivation.
Most of the Vlaka refugees stuck together in the years following their arrival, slowly teaching themselves the Frontier’s standard languages and adjusting to life on another planet, only willingly venturing out into the planet’s wider society once they thought they were ready. For one reason or the next, few actually ended up returning– gradually the community slowly diffused into the planet’s wider population, and Rkholdir saw for himself why the moment he took that leap of faith himself. Hoping at the very least for a potential improvement over the hab-blocks the refugees had been assigned, he followed prospects of work to one of the planet’s largest population centers: the one and only Night City.
With some effort, Rkholdir was able to get a data entry position at NCPD, and a proper apartment in one of the city’s many megabuildings just a handful of years later. Adjustment to life on an alien world remained a constant difficulty, particularly for someone used to at least some status in his old life… and the latent prejudice directed his way by the predominant species in the population, a race of hairless hominids called Humans, didn’t make things any easier. All this while attempting to take care of two kids, who by this time were reaching early adolescence, and only becoming more of a hassle. Overwhelming as it all proved to be, time and time again, life began to fall more and more into a gradual rhythm… bringing comfort with routine, and finally buying him time to grieve. This was more than enough of a comfort to the aging Vlaka, who through the process was ultimately able to find some semblance of closure. Life had finally begun to slow down and settle for the former governor, who’d endured more in his lifetime alone than countless generations of his people before him. He was alive, his children were alive, and his species was alive– to him the positives in such things outweighed the difficulty adjusting to his new life. He would find himself more at peace, with each passing day.
= = =
Personal History: In contrast to their father, the lives of Tyrrnhagahn and Artriufrea had only just begun. The punishing work hours demanded by NCPD shifts ensured that Rkholdir wasn’t anywhere near as present as he wanted to be, and the twins were thus mostly left to their own devices. The moment they were old enough to venture out into the city on their own- around thirteen or so- there was little to stop them from doing so.
In the near-total absence of guidance from their father, the twins initially had very little cultural identity of their own. While Rkholdir made attempts to impart what he could on them, the culture of the Night City streets, that of the youth in particular, caught on for them far more quickly than any of their father’s wisdom ever could. By this time, they were in their early teenage years– the fast pace, bright lights, and social emphasis on force of presence were infinitely more appealing to them than teachings of wisdom, leadership, and restraint. Following what would become a studied pattern of behavior among second-generation Vlaka refugees, particularly those that separated from their larger communities following the diaspora, the inherent social skills they possessed (and developed) allowed the twins to express a kind of cultural chameleonism. Night City youth culture all but defined their childhood; they learned to talk like humans, act like humans, and live like humans… ultimately going as far as to adopt human-sounding nicknames, to help them blend in that much more. Shortly after brazenly shouldering their way into the local gang of hooligans in their district, Tyrrnhagahn became Tycho, and Artriufrea became Astrid.
Calling it a gang in the first place, at least initially, was to put it so quaintly. They started as little more harmless troublemakers, no matter how much they wanted to call themselves a “gang” just to sound cool… doing little more than stealing from liquor stores and hanging around the basketball courts and rooftops they called their “turf,” while mostly trying to avoid the actual gang operations that ran through the streets of their district (and running from the cops, naturally).
This was their life for the better part of the next five years, and from it came some of Tycho’s fondest memories. There was a dangerous beauty to the city that they both found captivating, and among the other misguided delinquents in their group, the attitude was naturally quite infectious. They were just young and dumb enough to hold a rose-tinted blindness to the grim realities of Night City, and they would hold onto it as much as they could… but time would pass, whether they would want it to or not. Eventually, the twins would find themselves teetering on the edge of adulthood, that blindness having slowly lifted itself. By the time they realized they’d already been long-since exposed to the deeper shadows created by the city’s wash of neon, they were already quite desensitized. Ambition, of all things, slowly began to grow in parallel with this reality setting in. They realized that being a nobody in this city meant getting run over by those who weren’t, the weak were doomed to serve the strong, and that neither the two of them nor any of their friends were willing to go down so easily.
By the time they were eighteen, what started as a gathering of teenage troublemakers became an actual crew of proper Street Kids, with sights set on actually making legitimate street cred. Adversity became the catalyst it needed to be, and the more they were put in harm's way, the more the twins came into their own… though in the process, they gradually became very different people. Astrid showed a natural aptitude for cunning that typically kept her more reserved and analytic, while Tycho’s guns-blazing attitude towards pretty much everything in life pretty much made him her antithesis. She was a netrunner, he was a gunslinger. Both were drawn to entirely different ways of handling things, that would put the two of them at odds more than ever before. Familial bonds were never quite tested, though the two of them did gradually grow apart… slowly becoming less reliant on the other, and more on themselves and their own abilities. Neither of them regret it, for it allowed for them to become their own individuals– a preferable alternative to being referred to as just “one of the twins” their whole life, as some among their social circles had already taken to doing.
They were good, genuinely, and thus so was the money… but it didn’t take very long for Astrid to realize that that wasn’t the problem. While Tycho crusaded through the streets of the Heywood district in the name of some self-aggrandized defiance towards Corpos that didn’t know he even existed, she became more and more unhappy with their end goal with each passing day… namely, the fact that neither of them had one. Stealing corporate data and boosting expensive cars bought nice clothes and earned respect with the Valentinos, but it did very little to secure any kind of future for either of them. This life paid, but this life killed. No amount of fame or stolen luxuries would save them from being unlucky, given that was all it took to cut their lives short in an instant. Despite his sister’s badgering, well-intended as it was, Tycho never quite gave it much credence until it hit too close to home.
An unfortunate solution to Astrid’s problem came in the form of the last thing she wanted: her father’s rapidly-declining health. Rkholdir never exactly sought any help to better his mental health, the scars of which remained present throughout his new life, no matter how much peace it brought him… and while whether or not this was a contributing factor to the dementia’s development remains to be seen, it didn’t exactly make the situation any better. A deepened depression came hand in hand with the diagnosis, and thus the Vlaka’s downward spiral only steepened. He retired early from the NCPD with only a modest nest egg, which was eaten up by the expensive treatment costs within months.
It was the final reality check required for Tycho to finally grow up, so to speak… or at least the start of the process. He had always been good enough to keep the knives from his back and the bullets from his chest, enough for it to slowly infect his personality to the point of arrogance. He felt invincible, no matter how many injuries he sustained; the scope of his life had become so narrow that he reveled only in the fight, taking things solely day by day, getting high on a sense of rebellion he didn’t realize was so hollow. Death had always been on the mind, but it was never given any more thought than the color of the sky. Seeing the absence in his father’s eyes was an abrupt and painful haunting, trumped only by the very real reminder of mortality.
An I-told-you-so wasn’t necessary from Astrid– the agreement that they’d do everything in their power to take care of him didn’t even have to be spoken. The twins took back to the streets with their crew in tow, for it was the best way of making money they knew of… but it didn’t feel quite the same. Astrid, unfortunately, got both of the things she was aiming for: a tangible end goal for their work, and setting her rabid brother’s mind straight. Tycho suddenly had more on his mind than ever before, and it was starting to make him sloppy… making it abundantly clear how undisciplined he was, in turn. Their ambitions would continue to grow, though now more out of desperation than anything else. Rkholdir’s treatment only became more financially taxing the worse his state became, and they found themselves having to take bigger and bigger jobs, just to make ends meet. In the grand scheme, both of them were still very much amateurs by experience alone– most of the jobs they were no less eager to take were far beyond the scope of their experience… but what choice did they have? It was either this, or let Rkholdir slowly fade away. That was an idea neither of them could stomach.
They started to lose people. Friends known since the very formation of their little gang, all those years ago. More heat from the NCPD, brushes with rival gangs, getting burned by Corpo security details… suddenly the life they thought they’d loved became more than they could handle. As if it hadn’t been any clearer before, it certainly was now: if they wanted any chance of living long enough to keep their father going, they’d either have to become master mercenaries overnight, or find some other way to make money safely.
A plan was made, on the hardest decision either of them had ever had to make. Distance was gradually put between themselves and the members of their old crew, while the last of the money saved between them was put towards their respective “outs.” For Astrid, that meant pulling favors for forged academic records sufficient enough to land her acceptance into one of Estero’s universities… and a steep bribe, to make sure they’d land. For Tycho, it meant a scrubbed NCPD record, and blackmailing his way into the “legit” side of the only thing he knew how to do well: mercenary work yet still, only this time for the very corps he’d grown up hating with a passion. It pained him beyond words to do so, but when he was finally “offered” a lower-tier position in the Arasaka Corporation’s security division, Tycho accepted it readily.
The twins matured in the blink of an eye, as their lives changed overnight. In a pattern similar to their father when he first arrived in Night City, their lives slowed down significantly once they found the work they were looking for… only in stark contrast to Rkholdir, his two kids would find anything but peace.
Doing security work for a corp was everything Tycho was afraid it was going to be: dry, restrictive, and rarely exciting. He quickly found he had to suppress his own personality rather heavily, which would remain one of the biggest pain points for many years. It was difficult to keep the idealistic vitriol that had previously got him through the day at bay, given the fighting spirit that the young Vlaka held onto as a source of identity didn’t have much of a place in a professional environment. The passions he was able to express were done so through his work, which while perhaps not being the healthiest outlet, ended up giving him quite the edge. Being someone who had raw skill in spades but lacked sorely in experience and discipline, Tycho’s time at Arasaka was rather formative. The combat skills he had were actually refined by proper training for the first time in his life, and it ended up being the source of encouragement he didn’t know he was missing in his life. The Vlaka found himself taking comfort in tangible improvement, hoping it was the key to a better position and better pay.
Around this time however, for reasons relating, one particular wake-up call continued to echo in the young Vlaka’s mind… trumping even the ever-mounting concern for his father’s health, in the face of more immediate concerns. If he was going to succeed entirely on his own in this city, with no support at his back, investing in even some form of surface-level cyberware would be a necessity… but in turn, he’d find out just how difficult of a feat that would be. Tycho was only able to survive his time as an edgerunner thanks to others being able to handle the things he could not– interfacing mentally with computers, handling digital transactions, things of that nature… but beyond that, handing firearms so regularly was starting to have a little more of a lasting effect on his hearing, and such a thing would only become more frequent and more drastic in the life of a corporate soldier. Implants offered a longer-lasting and more effective solution than earplugs and muffle-padding, which made them ideal… but much like the idealized solutions to his other foreseen shortcomings, one glaring issue with cyberware remained: none of it was designed for, nor was any of it compatible with, his species.
Despite his sister’s consistent admonishment towards the idea, “making do” was a decision Tycho simply refused to acknowledge. He’d done so many times before up to this point, and though he didn’t know it yet, he would have to for many years to come… but already he’d grown tired of the position he was put in, and thus didn’t care about the risks. Astrid ultimately did relent, knowing herself that the alternatives could potentially compromise her brother’s new job… and so would begin an ongoing project that, while it used up the last of the money they’d saved from their old lives, could at least ensure they could continue their new ones.
With the help of the last of their owed favors, Astrid and Tycho put together a plan for what would be their final project together… a bittersweet last hurrah for their lives as edgerunners. Their objective was twofold– kitbash together a suite of implants that would at least function at the command of Vlaka neural patterns, for the sake of letting Tycho interface with Estro’s computers as effortlessly as his peers, and use that to establish a stable framework for the potential installation of more cyberware later down the line… the way to test such a thing in turn being the installation of the second implant, the one he’d frankly need more than the first: adequate hearing protection.
Most- most- of the things they needed were things they didn’t have to rob anybody for, thankfully. Their now-former lives ensured a ready familiarity with most ripperdocs in the city, particularly the ones who were more than privy to custom, illegal, or otherwise unsanctioned chop-jobs. The process was, naturally, prohibitively expensive… and it ate away just about last credit they had left. As far as the two of them were concerned, this would be their final act of “spending money to make money,” one that rode optimistically on the hope that steady employment from here on out would ensure they could keep up with their father’s medical costs moving forward.
The process nearly fried Tycho’s nervous system, as Astrid had feared and as their contacts had warned… but ultimately it was Astrid that ensured the project would ultimately be successful. Having someone with the technical expertise to collaborate effectively with the ripperdocs in question whilst still having a proper understanding of Vlaka biology allowed them to fill the gaps that mere scans of the brain could not… and furthermore, it helped that Vlaka in general share an uncanny resemblance biologically to some species of Terran domestic animals, the biometric data of which was rather easily accessible. The whole process would take the better part of a year to complete, and would even then require countless iterations and updates thereafter, well into Tycho’s career with Arasaka… but for the time of their final completion, reliability was at an acceptable enough level to pass. Tycho finally had the chrome he found himself needing so sorely, and though it nearly killed him, it would stand as a “win” forever thereafter– one that neither he nor Astrid knew they needed so badly.
It would only stand as a boon that Tycho’s prior experience as a street kid gave him that much more of an edge over his peers, now that there was theoretically nothing holding him back. By being able to think like those in his former life and understand their tactics just a little bit better than the average goon, he was quick to make himself an asset to his team by this alone, saying nothing for his ability to work well with a team as it was or handle a gun– this time with truly nothing to fear. In the span of just one year, at the age of just 20, he secured a promotion that landed him in Arasaka’s proper corporate military, showing distinction as a designated marksman… and it was during this greater start as a corpo-sec goon that he finally came to a realization that felt all but damning, even if there was no denying it: he was actually starting to enjoy his new life.
Once all the stuffy restrictions and cutthroat bureaucracy were sifted through, there was a comfort that came with a mutual understanding from many of his fellow squadmates– to most of them, this was just like any other kind of work. Tycho was more than well aware of Arasaka’s ominous reputation in the eyes of the general public, and while there was plenty to confirm such a thing once he was able to see it for himself, it only made him feel that much more drawn to those like him who were pretty much just there for the paycheck. There was a system to it: you put on a straight face for the officers, you follow orders well enough to not get fired, and you keep your head down. In exchange, the corporation’s trademark tactical training only bolstered his combat ability, and his work took him all over Estero. Compared to lower-echelon security work, the Vlaka saw only positives in his new promotion… particularly when it came to the pay.
It wasn’t all perfect, naturally. The system existed for a reason, after all– one had to keep their head down because it was necessary, both physically and socially. Aside from the constant looming threat of cyberpsychos across most of Estero’s megacities, many of which Arasaka security was specifically deployed to combat, there were still many in the criminal underworld that knew Tycho’s very-recognizable face… most of which wouldn’t be too happy to find out that one of the white wolves of Heywood had switched sides. Astrid’s safety was at risk just as much as his own, in that respect. Great care was taken to keep his identity as shielded as he could, though the relative rarity of his species didn’t do him any favors. Both him and his sister were nearly murdered on numerous occasions, sometimes by Arasaka themselves in Astrid’s case… but thanks to their own kinds of skill and just a little bit of luck, they would always make it out alive. Neither of them saw the risks of their new jobs outweighing the importance of where their money was going.
There was also the case of Arasaka’s work itself, which didn’t exactly do much to change Tycho’s opinions on how megacorps treated the general populace. The vast majority of his unit’s deployments were rapid-response; asset security, VIP extraction, and “peacekeeping operations” aimed at pacifying the general populace in the event of a riot. The general rules-of-engagement remained the same: he and his team were a company asset, and everything else decidedly wasn’t. Loss of civilian life was little more than a statistic at best, and a complete nonfactor at worst.
Needless to say, Tycho could only be proud of his own personal improvements, and not much else. This would remain the case for the rest of his seven-year career with Arasaka, as his opinions on the corpo-sec sphere slowly became more and more desensitized… and as those seven years went by, his sister’s old admonishments slowly began to resurface again. Was he content to have this job be the rest of his life, particularly now that he could pursue combat work as he pleased? Time progressed, and somehow Tycho felt like he was going in the opposite direction… slowly becoming more and more complacent with being a tool for corporate interests, and little much else. The realization came and went that he’d spent far too much time thinking about his father’s future instead of his own, and in doing whatever it took to try to take care of him, he’d slowly come to compromise his own beliefs.
These feelings came to a head when the twins had their lives turned upside down for the final time. Merely weeks before Tycho’s 27th birthday, his father suffered a sudden brain aneurysm, and passed away within hours of being hospitalized. Rkholdir Kalhalati’s dementia had progressed to agree where Tycho had frankly come to see his passing as a long-deserved easing of the old Vlaka’s suffering… but it hurt no less to finally lose him, after so much of his and his sister’s lives were dedicated to trying to keep him going.
Just like that, he and Astrid were on their own. They’d figured out how to fend for themselves nearly a decade ago, but somehow that final separation made Tycho in particular feel more helpless than he ever had before. In the blink of an eye, everything he’d been working toward was gone forever… and he was no less better off, still stuck in a job he was slowly growing more and more cynical towards with each passing day. He didn’t know what was next for him, and he didn’t want to quit the only life he knew… but Tycho ultimately decided he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and Night City, feeling as if there was nothing keeping him here anymore– not when Astrid shared the same sentiments, and was also looking to get somewhere offworld. Suddenly there was nothing to outweigh the continued danger of having a gang target on their backs, but more importantly, they had their own lives to live. Tycho made a point of it first, and Astrid agreed; it was time to pursue futures that were properly their own.
In a way, it wasn’t like he couldn’t keep up this kind of life and get nothing out of it– Astrid was nearly done with her doctorate, and there would always be student debt to help pay off. His motivations were able to easily shift from helping to pay for his father’s treatment to helping Astrid pay off her academic expenses, to the point where changing career paths never once crossed his mind. He was a fighter at heart, and the soldier’s life was one that he genuinely enjoyed… even if he could do without an employer that was as cruel and cold to its employees as it was to its clients.
An opportunity soon presented itself in the IMC, the massive interstellar conglomerate to which Arasaka was but one of many subsidiaries. Their reach extended across most of the Frontier, if not most of the old Terran Confederation itself… and with his combat record, it would be easy enough to apply for transfer to a unit somewhere far, far away from Night City… and possibly even get a better position than the one he currently had. As far as Tycho was concerned, the IMC just did for the entire Frontier what Arasaka did for Estero, only without the imposing corpo bureaucracy and invasive employee doctrine (or so he hoped). Either way, it was a means to escape Estero with his head on his shoulders, while still giving him an opportunity to help his sister do the same.
After about six months of waiting, the Vlaka’s employment would finally change hands– not to the IMC, but to the mercenary outfit they redirected him to. It wasn’t what he either wanted nor what he expected, and what would come next was entirely unknown to Tycho… but frankly, with the level of independence that it looked like PMC work stood to offer him, that would become more exciting than anything else.
The Verse-Specifics:
Abilities:
Keen Senses: The Vlaka are natural-born hunters, accustomed from their primitive ancestors to tracking hardy prey through endless miles of arctic tundra… an environment where nothing less than the perfect kill meant starving. Tycho’s senses of smell, sight, and hearing are all incredibly precise, for all the boons and detriments that may come with such a thing. He might be able to track someone by scent, spot something moving in the shadows that someone else can’t, or hear incoming danger from a long way off… but this level of precision only leaves him all the more vulnerable to being disoriented, through the same means. Strong scents, bright lights, and sonic attacks can often be more disruptive or damaging to him than to others.
Keen Reflexes: Having one’s senses so finely precise yields the requirement of a body that can keep up. Tycho’s reflexes and hand-eye coordination are second to none, resulting in a blindly-fast reaction time… though the constant awareness he has to his surroundings can sometime leave him jumpy, and he can often focus on one thing so singularly that he can be easily startled by harmless things. Combine this with a traumatic childhood and life in the military, and you get someone constantly flinching at things he shouldn't.
Natural Weapons: Vlaka naturally possess clawed fingers and rows of sharpened fangs, indicative of their carnivorous diet and their biological origins as apex predators. Convenient melee weapons speak for themselves, even if it can sometimes make handling equipment designed for more humanoid hands a delicate or clumsy process.
Pack Hunter: Tycho can effectively read a combat zone, going to the necessary lengths to understand the strengths and weaknesses of his allies and enemies alike. He possesses a natural aptitude towards working effectively with others, whether he’s in a position of leadership or not, and will coordinate his own actions accordingly.
Veteran Operator: Thanks to the particular path his life has taken, he has the combined training of a Night City edgerunner, a corporate security operative, and an IMC merc, with skill to meet their demands equally. A unique and diverse skillset allows Tycho to be endlessly adaptable in the face of adversity, even if he may lack the experience necessary to execute such things effectively.
Years of employment with the Arasaka Corporation’s security division prepared him well for his time as an IMC contractor. Already a veteran of Night City’s brutal street warfare before entering a harder military environment, he’s well-adjusted to the ins and outs of squad-based unit tactics, urban warfare, and shock operations. He knows how to make himself dependable, and he knows how to break an opponent’s defense with great precision… but most importantly, he knows how to survive. His body and mind have the scars to prove it, even if many of them still haven’t fully healed.
Cyberware: Thanks to his sister’s technical skills, Tycho is already well-adjusted to cybernetic augmentation– the notable exception being cyberoptics, which he adamantly avoids in favor of his own naturally sharp vision. The Vlaka possesses a number of unique aftermarket implants; the result of a joint project between him and his sister, designed to help him survive a little more easily in the day-to-day as an edgerunner. The first of these implants is also the most crucial: an adaptive hearing aid, of sorts. Modeled in functionality after military active-hearing equipment, these implants were designed to function in a similar fashion… using precise electronic noise-cancellation to compress and neutralize most forms of potentially hazardous soundwaves. Crucial for protecting his sensitive hearing from the sounds of gunfire, but genuinely life-saving against the wildlife repulsor towers that are scattered across most Frontier colonies.
The second is a little more general, but no less crucial: a small network of interface plugs and software chips embedded along the spine and parts of the skull, designed with the goal of brute-forcing a compatibility between Vlaka neurological patterns and interface systems meant for humans. By all accounts, this suite of implants is a custom chop-job… one that drained the last of what the twins had saved from their days as edgerunners, in terms of both money and favors owed. Bugs are present and malfunctions are an ever-looming threat, but for the most part, the system works as its intended. Until a more refined iteration of the design is developed, Astrid’s handiwork will do just fine.
Beyond his own personal effects, he’s reasonably familiar with most kinds of cybernetic augments available on or off the black market, and so long as they don’t compromise his natural abilities, wouldn’t be above using them himself… pending potential incompatibility issues, naturally.
Skills:
Gunslinger: Ever since the earliest of his days running around Night City, Tycho showed an impressive aptitude for handguns, particularly heavier-caliber models like revolvers and high-yield energy blasters. The Vlaka’s natural dexterity, sharp reflexes, and larger build work well together here, allowing him to sling around even the most unwieldy of handguns and absorb their recoil with relative ease. 9 times out of 10, it’s his preferred way to fight… for if it's done right, this combat style can be just as stylishly imposing (and imposingly stylish) as his sense of fashion. Perfectly complementary to his sense of self.
Diverse Marksman: While they’re not usually his preferred types of weapon, most of his shooting disciplines translate skillfully well into more conventional two-handed precision weapons. Arasaka trained him to be a sniper, and those skills have since only been refined by the proper military marksmanship drills. Thanks to constantly having his sights set on better equipment, Tycho has at least heard of most kinds of long arms that are common in the Frontier, even if he may not be terribly familiar with their manuals-of-arms.
Night City Streetsmarts: Mercenary work or not, Tycho feels most at home in urban environments. He knows the slang, he knows the culture, he knows the fashion, and he knows the people. While much of this is specific to the particular chrome chaos of Estero’s megacities, many of these skills can apply just the same to any major urban population center in the galaxy. Weaving a web of connections and having a finger to the heartbeat of any given city can both go a long way, in equal parts… but sometimes it’s just nice to know the basics: where the good street food is, what nightclubs to avoid, what gangs (not) to fuck with, and what kind of fashion is “in.”
Edgerunning: Tycho remains a mercenary at heart, often to the point of compromising the “military professionalism” of his PMC work that he rarely takes too seriously. He may have taken himself out of Night City, but he continues to take great care in ensuring the Night City isn’t taken out of him. Working outside the law was more than just a career path for him growing up, it was his whole life– stirring up trouble and generally making things difficult for corporate interests has allowed him to slowly learn a wide array of unconventional combat skills, from lockpicking and hotwiring commercial vehicles to surface-level espionage and improvised weapons. He’s even learned a netrunning trick or two from his sister, though he’ll usually prefer to smash a computer than to try and hack it.
Linguistic Skills: Having grown up in an internationalist cultural melting pot, learning the language was simply part of the life… and of the life, there were many languages to learn. His natural social skills and ingrained cultural chameleonism allow him to pick up new languages easily, and he’s already fluent in quite a few. Aside from knowing both the spoken and signed variations of his native Vlaka tongue, Tycho is well-versed in three different human dialects: English, Spanish, and Japanese. Certain words in the Night City vernacular also contain small bits of Hungarian, Russian, and German, though he’s no more knowledgeable with these dialects than the average street kid.
Training:
Edgerunner Upstart (Informal): While most of his skills during his street kid days were self-taught, he was never one to say no to pointers from more experienced mercs… especially if the advice was free. The training itself was often as unconventional as its applications, but remains no less invaluable to someone finding themselves currently engaged in counterinsurgency operations. Corporate and military training taught him how to fight like a soldier, but training to be an Edgerunner taught him how to fight for his life. Much like how this knowledge benefited him as an Arasaka goon, his knowledge on urban guerilla warfare extends to both sides of the parties involved… allowing him to predict and understand enemy tactics quite well, especially if they’re unconventional or non-paramilitary.
Corpo-Sec (Formal): Arasaka Security contracts remain some of the best that corporate money can buy in the Frontier, and that’s a reputation Arasaka takes rather seriously. Thanks to his employers making damn well sure it was the case, Tycho is professionally trained in corporate security procedures, the handling of higher-end military technology, operation of combat cyberware, and hand-to-hand combat. The final one of these was a special case for Tycho in particular, as his superiors found teaching him true unarmed hand-to-hand combat to be somewhat moot given the natural weapons he possessed. Technically, his training in this area was never finished… but thanks to his natural weapons, he’ll never exactly be “unarmed” unless he literally loses his arms.
Paramilitary (Formal): Those that authorized Tycho’s transfer were already well aware of the Vlaka’s capabilities, and thus didn’t see it entirely necessary to re-train him completely. What training that did follow mainly focused on preparing for the role he was selected for, as well as distinguishing the difference in doctrine between a corporate security force and a PMC outfit. Tycho has thus been familiarized with most forms of standard military kit and combat procedures, from working alongside autonomous units to dropship deployment. As his particular unit specializes in reconnaissance and counterinsurgency, additional training in specialized equipment to suit this role- namely stealth technology, jump kits, and anti-materiel weapons- was also included.
Combat Strengths:
Highly Trained: Tycho’s broad repertoire of combat training, formal and informal alike, gives him the ability to assess most combat situations with careful and meticulous precision, and execute mission objectives in a similar manner. His tactics focus on using the intimidatingly precise application of his weapon and constant repositioning to wreak havoc on the enemy, seizing control of the battlefield and funneling them into the line of fire of his allies. He stands above his peers in his ability to apply this training with deft execution.
Dexterous: Naturally keen perception allows Tycho a great degree of hand-eye coordination, resulting in lightning-fast reaction times, sharp reflexes, and thinking quickly on his feet. When expressed reactionarily, these are typically movements he can’t consciously control; flinching when startled, deftly catching objects thrown his way, biting down on something put between his jaws, whipping around when something touches his tail, etc. When expressed actively, this can allow the Vlaka a shocking degree of delicacy and precision with the movements of his hands, despite the sharply-clawed things being rather large and even unwieldy when working with equipment designed solely for human hands.
Tenacious: It’s one thing to possess great skill as a marksman, but true aptitude comes from being able to apply these skills under pressure. Unless he’s been stirred or disoriented into a frenzy, Tycho is typically quite good at keeping a level head when the bullets start flying, confident in his ability to end a fight as quickly as it starts.
Indomitable: What he lacks in specialization he makes up for in raw resilience, in both body and spirit. His species ensures a natural toughness to most environments, his stature ensures he can take a punch, and his childhood ensures he won’t take shit lying down from anybody. Tycho’s passions extend unfortunately rather well into combat, a byproduct of many years spent having only it as an outlet for self-expression. He refuses to go down easily, fearing what might happen if he did.
Style In All Things: Who doesn’t love a little bit of tasteful bravado? Tycho’s sense of style extends into all aspects of his life, and his combat ability is no exception to the rule. Any chump on the streets of Night City can carry a handcannon and pretend they know how to use it, but the flashy spins and unnecessary tactical reloads are what separate the posers from the gunslingers. Opportunities to express himself in this manner, as his time in Arasaka had gotten him well used to sneaking in, remain rare at this point in his life. Despite already being disciplined for it numerous times in the very short time he’s been in with his new PMC unit, the Vlaka finds ways to sneak in a little bit of flair wherever he can.
Combat Weaknesses:
Easily Overwhelmed: While physically he can take a lot of punishment, Tycho’s sensitive and precise sensory organs leave him vulnerable to being harmfully overstimulated by attacks deliberately meant to stun an enemy. Concussion weapons, flashbangs, sonic weapons, and even pheromones can all have extremely adverse effects.
Heat Regulation: Being primarily adapted for an arctic climate is a double-edged sword. While his thick fur can protect him rather well from the extreme cold, it also means he’s naturally predisposed towards said colder climates. Vlaka regulate heat in a fashion similar to many other kinds of canid organisms: they don’t sweat, as it was an adaptation they never evolved to possess… instead relying on panting to evaporate moisture and regulate their body temperature. The rigors of combat can drive up his body temperature rather quickly, given he’s essentially a walking rug… forcing him not just to dress light to avoid overheating, but to constantly monitor his physical activity to ensure he’s properly hydrated. Beyond that, the sound of panting alone could possibly give away his position if he’s attempting to be stealthy.
Implant Reliance: Beyond the general risks of sensory overload placed upon him by his other senses, Tycho’s hearing in particular presents itself as a difficult factor in combat scenarios. A lack of hearing protection is all the more dangerous than it would be to the average soldier, as his particular biology leaves him more prone to hearing damage from gunfire, explosives, overhead aircraft, and other forms of extremely loud noise. While his ear implants are only a reasonably effective stopgap, Tycho relies on them heavily to simply function in a military environment… and implants they merely remain. Should someone succeed in hacking, jamming, or otherwise directly targeting them, disabling these implants outright could leave him exposed to not just extreme auditory damage of a combat environment, but the sharp and sudden transition between the two states could damage his inner-ear enough to the point of discombobulation and loss of balance. Some manner of malfunction could present a similar risk, posing the threat of semi-permanent to even permanent hearing loss.
Beyond that, if Tycho were to suddenly find himself without this protection in proximity of any of the all-too-common wildlife repulsor towers that dot Frontier worlds, his biology would leave him no-less susceptible to the high-frequency soundwaves they emit. These installations bear the nickname “Dog-Whistle Towers” for a reason, and even so much as the sight of one makes the Vlaka very nervous.
Kit Incompatibilities: While having plantigrade legs offer some semblance of a saving grace to the Vlaka, it’s no less a reality that using equipment designed exclusively for humans consistently presents difficulties. Beyond the more technical incompatibilities like most interface systems and vital monitors, gloves, boots, and helmets in particular are completely incompatible between the two species… which puts Tycho at quite the disadvantage in terms of wargear. The Vlaka is more or less forced in the position of dressing light as it is, but this puts him in a position of having to use makeshift and unreliable alternatives. Gloves with the fingers cut off, open-toed shoes, jury-rigged headsets that rarely ever stay secure– at present, there simply aren’t enough of his species in the wider territory for anyone to have designed military equipment for them, and most native Vlaka technology of this kind was left behind on Lajok. His size is also rather restricting, as some tactical vests and forms of body armor aren’t made to be that big… but unlike some other parts of his body, “size XXXL” options for shirts and plate carriers at the very least exist. A small victory.
There remains the anticipation that some manner of personal energy shielding will be the first thing he buys, as soon as he can get his hands on the money for one. Complete reliance on one of these systems may be impractical, but it’s much easier to tune the bounds of an energy field to someone’s body shape than designing them a complete suit of customized combat armor… though frankly, he’d just be happy with a helmet. Gloves and boots can at least be butchered and still serve some manner of purpose, but thanks to the shape of his skull anything from the neck up remains completely unprotected for the time being.
Aftermarket Chrome: Astrid might be good at what she does, but it doesn’t change the potential for malfunction in Tycho’s experimental cyberware. The neural linkages in particular are still rather buggy and prone to instabilities, as no matter how good a programmer can be and no matter how good of a ripperdoc you know, it doesn’t change the fact that most interface systems weren’t designed to link with Vlaka neural pathways. In terms of basic terminal operation, this might just mean general unresponsiveness or even unusual forms of input delay… but should the Vlaka ever find himself using some form of smart targeting linkage or VISR system, it could make these pieces of equipment potentially unreliable.
Should any of Tycho’s implants fail or malfunction in some way during combat, the only person who knows how to repair them remains on Estero… potentially countless lightyears away. Furthermore, there remains the chance that Vlaka biology might just outright reject certain implants that would otherwise be perfectly fine in humans, which always makes the attempt to install new cyberware a task all on its own.
Skilled, Yet Inexperienced: His new squadmates would all agree that Tycho fits the definition of a “hotshot rookie–” there’s no question of his combat ability, but extensive training and raw ability will only get you so far. While the Vlaka has the ability to adapt to any new kind of threat, he remains lacking in how exactly to go about such a thing… something remedied only by experience in the field, which as far as interstellar combat is concerned, he has very little of. Moreover, due to his deployment into the wider Frontier being his first time offworld, he has little to no experience fighting anything but robots and other humanoids.
Big Body, Big Presence: Tycho is anything but small, even for the standards of his race. Being generally more massive than most of your squad will typically mean you’re the one shot at first, and if that’s the case, you’d better pray whoever took the shot didn’t bring an appropriately-sized gun. Aside from using this and other racial traits as he can to intimidate during combat, this can extend just the same into the Vlaka’s flashy fighting. The downside of incorporating whatever style the Vlaka can into the way he fights often ends up being one-in-the-same with his intent: ideally all eyes are on him, but that probably means all the guns are too.
Weapons:
Lastimosa G2A4: Semi-automatic battle rifle chambered for the 6.19x97mm LEC kinetic cartridge, equipped with a 1-8x LPVO per Tycho’s role in his unit as a designated marksman. Thanks to the IMC recently adopting the R101-C as its new main duty rifle, many of these rifles were phased out of military service altogether, beyond limited use with special forces units and sniper teams… thankfully making them comparatively cheap surplus, even for still being military equipment. Their reputation stands as being no-less-well-deserved, at least as far as reliability and precision are concerned. 14-round magazine. Carried on a self-constructed sling made of braided nylon. (Model and Concept Art by Ryan Lastimosa, for Titanfall 1.)
Lastimosa “Hammond” P2011: Standard-issue sidearm for the IMC Marine Corps– behind the times, so to speak, but about as advanced as Confederation regulations allow. A reliable and unapologetic jack-of-all trades, chambered for the positively ancient .45 Auto ballistic cartridge. Terran handguns of this style and make have existed for a literal millennia at this point, and it’s safe to say that human engineers have gotten the ballistic capability of this caliber down to a science. A thousand years' worth of .45 Auto handguns existed before this weapon, and a thousand years' worth of them will probably exist after, too. 12-round magazine. Typically holstered on his right hip. (Model and Concept Art by Ryan Lastimosa, for Titanfall 1.)
Techtronika RT-46 Burya: Oversized electromagnetic handcannon of Terran design, from a foundry native to Estero. Originally belonging to Tycho’s father, its bulky industrial aesthetic and ludicrous ballistic capabilities evoked nostalgia for the old Vlaka, who found the weapon quite similar in size and feel to the old gamma-blasters previously popular with military officers on Lajok. It remains in Tycho’s personal effects as a deeply sentimental item since his father’s passing, and is the gun he considers a personal piece… though he only really carries the thing when he’s cleared to, which unless he’s on leave, is pretty much never. Has a mild material-penetration capability that makes it equal parts useful and inconvenient for urban combat. The trigger can be depressed and held to “charge” a more powerful shot, but this action is ill-advised even in the handcannon’s own user manual… as a fully-charged shot is more than capable of breaking Tycho’s wrist. 4-round magazine, firing caseless jacketed steel flechettes.
In a civilian environment, this bulky monstrosity is carried on his right leg, as visible as it can be made, with the P2011 as a concealed backup. However, certain applications might call for the use of this handcannon during his contractor work– things like light anti-materiel procedures or breaching. Should that be the case, the handguns are “switched,” placing the Burya in a holster on the small of the Vlaka’s back, to make room for the more reliable sidearm that would otherwise be on his right hip anyway. In a pinch, the P2011 would be the gun to reach for either way.
The weapon’s red plastic furniture has been repainted a yellow that matches Tycho’s eye color, and the metal housings have been parkerized with a black finish. A band of paint matching the darker red ink of his facial tattoo runs diagonally down across the barrel on both sides, from the front of the cylinder to the bottom edge of the weapon’s front end, before crossing over/underneath and being mirrored on the other side. Scrawled in white paint along this stripe are the words “WOLVES DON’T SMILE,” written first in Vlaka, then English, then Spanish, then Japanese, before the sequence repeats.
(Art by Rmory Studios for CDProjektRed.)
= = =
Ship: Tycho currently has no ship of his own. He goes where he’s deployed.
Current Story: Approximately six months ago, Tycho was finally approved for transfer from his position at Arasaka’s security division on Estero to service with the IMC… of a kind, anyway. His biology ensured that the IMC Marine Corps recruiter took one look at him and made a decision on the spot– it would be far too costly for the IMC to try and properly equip the Vlaka, and his particular biological limitations were deemed a liability. It disappointed Tycho beyond measure, but there was a silver lining to it. He wasn’t outright denied service, and was instead recommended he pursue a position at one of the conglomerate’s numerous satellite PMC operations… where the logistical nightmare of outfitting him with military equipment would be left up to Tycho himself.
Six months of supplemental training went by in the blink of an eye, and during that time he received the additional training needed for his role as a designated marksman in his new unit. As of the present day, he’s the newest member of the Polaris Group, a distinguished but relatively new PMC outfit that specializes in counterinsurgency and recon operations. For the time being, his work can reasonably put him anywhere in this region of the Federation, in or out of uniform. The Vlaka rookie is eager to distinguish himself, both out of a ravenous drive for self-improvement and the simpler desire to prove himself useful to his team. While initially disappointed by the turn his life has taken since leaving Arasaka, the life of an independent contractor feels like a promising one. As far as he’s concerned, mercenary work is where both the action and the money are, certainly more than that found in the life of a nameless rifleman… and he currently finds himself sorely in need of both. For himself, and for his sister.
= = =
The Roleplayer:
Pen Name: Baz; Bazilon, Bazillion, Basilione, Bazinga, etc. I’ve heard pretty much every variation of the name under the sun at this point, so I don’t much mind however it’s said.
Age: 23
Other Characters here on Monomachiarum: None; this is my first.
Roleplay Sample (Mild CW for suicidal ideation):
= = =
Night City, August 6th, 2978. Atop an isolated megahotel in a sea of concrete spires, a Vlaka sat on the edge of a rooftop alone.
Tycho’s body ached from head to toe. His head swam its way through the fading buzz of one too many drinks, his legs hurt from a day of nonstop running, and his voice had been all but shredded. If this was to be his last night in this cursed city, he’d be satisfied with the way he spent it if he were to fall asleep right then and there… and yet, here he was. In the exact place he told himself he wouldn’t go, mustering every last ounce of energy to carry him the distance that raw spite could not.
An idle shift of the leg, dangling one foot over the edge… brushing the empty can of Broseph Ale just next to him, and bringing his attention to the many others. The Vlaka lifted his head to notice the line they made along the edge of the roof, eyes shining in the dark… catching the glare of an overwhelming flood of red neon, from the massive Fuyutsuki sign just a few stories down. 5-6 unopened cans were laid out in a line to either side of him, with him in the middle between the second and third. A pained blink, as sobriety slowly fought to finally retake centerstage, while buried memories clawed their way forward. He had to be the one to place these here, he concluded, taking one last glance back out at the Night City skyline before slowly shifting his legs around to stand. There was something to the pattern of the cans that felt familiar to him, even in his stupor, but he ultimately decided to try and let it go. Even if he was just starting to come out of it, he was probably still too drunk to be that close to the edge of such a long, long way down.
It was only after taking those handful of steps away from the roof’s edge and looking back over his shoulder did the memory finally click. A spring night that felt like a summer one, on a date he couldn’t precisely remember; hazy details surrounding it, but itself a memory no less vivid, of sometime when he and Astrid were young. The entire crew was there, even her, which her introversion always made an occasion in of itself. This wasn’t an unusual hangout spot for them way back when, Tycho remembered, but it was only really worth the trip if it was the right kind of day to watch the sun go down… or if there was something really important worth celebrating.
An AV passed by just overhead, snapping Tycho out of his moment of thought-lost phasing. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, probably. If he couldn’t even remember the details when drunk, the same could probably be said for being sober– they probably weren’t important. He shook his head a little bit, blinked, and centered his vision back on the row of cans. Somehow he had a feeling that the details weren't the important part.
A vision hazy, like the thick lines of heat that danced on the roof. Boisterous laughter and a shouting match about nothing, mixed in with the hissing of drinks and low mumble of some forgotten beat. The entire crew sitting side by side along the roof, each with a beer in hand, watching the light from the setting sun at their backs turn the entire city beneath them to gold. A rare moment of true peace, that they’d come to make a ritual out of.
Tycho felt his throat tighten, watching where each of them would be next to their drink, hearing echoes of their nonsense across the decade of time since passed. He slowly turned and paced back towards the edge with almost a reverent gentleness to his step, as if he were suddenly approaching an altar. The Vlaka suddenly remembered why he told himself not to come here, in the seconds before he could feel the dampening fur on his cheeks and catch the stinging scent of salt.
He broke down, unsure of how much time he spent doing so. There was nobody here to hold him back from making as much noise as he liked, as years upon years of repressed grief came forth in a torrent. Too much time spent swallowing what made him who he was, having to set everything aside to keep going, even as he and his sister slowly drove them all to the brink. It was hard not to blame himself, for the way things ended up… who got flatlined, who got up and left on their own, who’s still alive to harbor the bad blood. They bit off far more than they could handle, all in the name of a few credits more… and the people he’d come to see as his found family, his friends, his chooms, were all mostly gone now. There was a moment of solace found in the memory, putting himself in the mind of his former self, just to see some of them again… but as he tried to sit back down in the spot he would’ve sat in that row so many years ago, a sudden warm breeze sent the one empty can, the one that would’ve been his, sailing over the edge. Down into the urban churn, somewhere far below.
The thought was… entertained, of pushing himself off and following the thing down. Always the reflexive decision that felt like the easiest, when the mind was too dulled to properly slap sense. Maybe there was a real Afterlife out there somewhere, where they could all see each other again… someplace they could really turn upside down; their own little slice of paradise, theirs until the end of time.
The Vlaka took in a shaky breath, arms up around his knees, muzzle pointed downwards at the endless sea of light below. There was too much keeping him in this world, himself included. Being a coward was out of the question, but so was being brave. He didn’t have the guts to try and make up to those of the old crew that still lived, for there were no words that could really cut that kind of remorse. He knew it wouldn’t ever take. To hear it all from an Arasaka puppet, a sellout, a traitor? Somehow he wouldn’t put it past them trying to ice him on the spot, for the sheer audacity alone. There was no making amends for his old life… but at least he had memories like this one to look back on, every once in a while. When times were brighter. When consequences didn’t exist.
An hour passed, then two, then three. It wasn’t until Tycho could see the first spark of the rising sun in front of him through the buildings that he remembered where he was supposed to be– in just a few hours, he’d be on the first launch off this cursed ball of chrome… shackled to another corp, but at least one that’d help him get away from this place for a while. He needed it, more than anything else. More than money, more than fame, more than skill, more than cred… definitely more than love. There was plenty of that here already, even if he always found himself leaving it broken in one way or the next. This night was as good a warning as any that those wounds were still fresh, still as deep as they’d ever been, and that they would swallow him whole.
For a second time he got up to leave, and for a second time he stopped to look back. There was no deliberation this time, no tears, no losing himself in the thoughts of a better time… just the slow and gentle steps towards the first can in the line, and the slow hesitant sweep to send it over the edge. One followed the next, taking with them the names of who had held them last, so many years ago. Diego. Chris. Ginny. Denji. Stock. Alex. Ibn. Lupe. Screws. Hornet. One by one, Tycho made the only kind of goodbye he thought would work… leaving only one standing, for Astrid. For if she somehow ever finds her way back here.
Satisfied wasn’t quite what Tycho felt as he took steps away from the edge for the third and final time, but it was close enough. This time he made damn sure not to stop and look back, lest he tempt himself to stay any longer. He took a second to swallow the lump in his throat as he stepped towards the stairwell on the far side of the roof… but just as he reached it, dawn had already begun to creep over the skyline.
As he looked out over the building’s far side, the memories of his old life at his back, the rays of the rising sun turned the city before him into gold.
= = =
Anything Else: A note on Tycho’s faction allegiance: I’ve deliberately written him to not be tied to his PMC job as much as could perhaps be assumed. Tycho is loyal to his own work first and foremost, seconded only by the money he can send back to Estero; whoever happens to be handing him the paycheck is a distant third. The IMC stood as a viable opportunity for him to climb the corporate ladder and put some distance between himself and his home planet, but that doesn’t mean he owes them that much genuine loyalty. Even for his maladaptive daydreaming of somehow one day becoming a Pilot, leaving his current team in search of more lucrative mercenary opportunities remains just as much a consideration as the steady pay he now has.
Also, like I said in my introduction, I'm new to roleplaying on forums... so if I happen to make weird mistakes or put things in the wrong place, I'm sorry in advance.
Fitted with an advanced long-range MIDAR sensor array and a twin-barrel heavy coil-cannon, Tycho’s LG-105 “Kobold'' gunship is outfitted for the role of long-range precision combat; fitting the Vlaka’s preference for overwhelming firepower at a practical distance.
Miscellaneous: Hammond SBHP/MIDAR-3 “Kaleidoscope” Sensor Suite: an advanced Microwave-based long-range active detection system, one of many modular systems available for the Kobold on production launch. Draws additional power from the ship’s reactor at the cost of overall shield strength.
= = =
A paradoxically innovative pattern of fast-attack gunship and low-capacity troop transport, recently developed by Hammond Aerospace for use by the IMC and its many subsidiary paramilitaries.
The LG-105 Kobold is the result of using derivative design as a whetstone for cost-effective military development. Reductively speaking, the Kobold is simply a Goblin dropship that’s been stripped of its wings, and had said wings replaced with twin heavy ordnance and systems modules. Combined with nearly double the armor of its predecessor and fitted with stronger engines to support the additional mass, the Kobold is the result of taking a previously multirole system and optimizing it for a more purely combat-focused role.
Being based on an already well-known Frontier spacecraft, widespread adoption of the design was relatively quick and painless. Most IMC spacecraft pilots were already familiar with the controls and handling of the Goblin, and the differences between the two patterns weren't great enough to require much in the way of additional training.
Overall, however, the reception of the Kobold by said pilots continues to be generally mixed. On one hand, the craft being based off the Goblin means it shares the dropship's trademark robustness and versatility, even before the additional armor and shields. However, being technically a retrofit, this same design factor bottlenecks many other aspects of the gunship's functionality in ways that many feel hurt it more than help it. The position of ordnance pods are based on compatibility with the Goblin frame, for example, as a means to save cost and shirk the need to design an entirely new one in its place... and a lack of wings means additional thrusters are attached to the back of said pods themselves, as they're some of the only parts of the ship that are technically "new," and therefore much easier to simply attach more "new" systems to. This in theory eliminates the need to modify or even outright redesign the Goblin frames out of the factory, but also technically means the Goblin and Kobold have interchangeable parts. If only just.
Hammond's engineering teams were quick to prove the value of their design philosophy, as many on the IMC board had already deemed the Kobold and its design process to be an inefficient kludge by the time the project reached the test phase. The ship performed demonstrably well in testing, which in of itself was able to be conducted very quickly, as there were only a small number of prototype parts to wait on before said testing could begin. As intended, re-fitting a Goblin into Kobold took minimal effort, hassle, and cost; Hammond would rest on their laurels once again.
Many IMC pilots feel that having the craft be so "front-heavy" in terms of thruster positioning along the fuselage makes for difficult maneuverability at high speeds– some have even taken to calling the Kobold "The Flying Slab," given a lack of wings and additional mass compared to the Goblin makes this gunship feel abysmally clunky and slow by comparison during atmospheric flight.
To make up for its shortcomings, however, the Kobold has a positively brutal armor density, impressive thrust capacity, and a wide degree of hardpoint modularity (even if only in specific areas). It may not be the most maneuverable craft in the IMC fleet, but the Kobold’s capacity to take a beating and still pull its own weight in a fight make it a reliable workhorse. A not-insignificant number of Kobolds were fitted for civilian roles shortly after launch of their production, as the IMC board saw potential in marketing the ship’s brutish strengths to the civilian sector. In contrast to the opinions of combat pilots, the Kobold is incredibly popular in civilian industrial application, able to fill the role of drydock tugboats, cargo haulers, armored transports, or construction vehicles very effectively. The ship’s “mean'' industrial aesthetic and ability to sport a wide array of heavy armament has also made it reasonably popular with mercenary groups and paramilitary corporations looking for a more heavy-hitting addition to their fleets. Notably the infamous Maxtac, an Estro-based urban peacekeeping corporation, recently purchased a large number of Kobolds for use in scenarios requiring heavy airborne firepower and/or riot suppression, and have put them to very effective use. Thanks to the corporation’s trademark efficient brutality, the Kobold has already become an infamous tool of corporate subjugation across many urbanized Frontier planets.
Naturally, Tycho’s Kobold is stolen corporate property. Thanks to some manipulation of their supply chain by his sister and shockingly eager support from a group of local mercenaries, a number of these ships recently “vanished” from a Militech outpost on the Frontier planet of Harmony. Getting it shipped all the way to Daiban and scrubbed of any identification was as easy as greasing the palms of Kilrathi smugglers.
The ship was named the Tragedy, after a quote from someone close to him in his former Night City crew. After watching a MaxTac patrol use one of their gunships to obliterate a small gang of rancorous cyber-psychos (a standard Tuesday morning), his old friend and former lover Hornet called the Kobold “a tragedy of success for industrial design.”
Tycho just thought the thing was tragically ugly, but at least the meaning was the same.
