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Pilot Designation: AHC2; "Claire"
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Character Description:
Years since Animation: 81
Gender: None; appears female
Physical Description: A short figure, AHC2, known by her nom de guerre, "Claire", measures to only five feet tall. At a glance, Claire appears human, an eternally young woman just blossoming into the bodily trappings of adulthood. Her shoulders are slight and her chin tapers to a soft round. Her eyes, blank and staring and somewhere between a dark brown and a jet black, sit nestled between a delicate nose and sharp eyebrows. Her hair, a warm mahogany color, falls in waving tresses down to her chin with sweeping locks curling just under her cheeks. Thin lips form a near horizontal line, often giving off an air of disaffection.
With the look of high cheekbones and an unnaturally perfect complexion, she appears sort of doll-like. Her face sports no wrinkles not scratches, and without pock-marks or aging creases, her skin reflects light a rather unnatural diffuse and soft manner. Her body is lithe, built like a dancer with a trim torso and long legs. She looks as if some enormous music box ballerina had suddenly come alive and stepped forth. Unfortunately, the human similarities end there. Beneath the synthetic skin is not flesh and bone, but the whirring and humming of motors and electricity. When she moves, a keen ear can hear the motors changing, but even a layman can see that something is different about her movements. A turn of the head is too perfect, too precise, and those movements lend her a terrible and beautiful grace all her own.
Personality:
Despite Claire's obvious inorganic movements, she tends to be quite animated around others. With an excitable, somewhat fae personality, she enjoys groups of all kinds, typically drawing the attention of a room quickly to herself. She is a "creature", for lack of a better term, of mischief, and she enjoys humor and merriment whenever the opportunity arises. She frequently speaks her mind to others and appreciates honesty whenever possible, though with an understanding that sometimes lies are a necessary evil, she is patient with people who choose avoid truth and those who seek to deceive her. Far from gullible, she is, despite all appearances, careful, rational, and collected.
In combat, Claire is efficient and practical. She maintains a studious approach to her craft, her weapons and internal components meticulously cleaned at all opportunities. She can often be found, when not engaging with others, on her own ensuring her zoid runs optimally and that her own calibrations do not waver. She prefers long-range weapons if possible because of the low risk of collateral damage, but the thrill of trading blows in close-combat often draws her past the arm's length middle ground to instead trade blows, fist-for-fist or claw-for-claw.
Aware of her mechanical movements and just-not-human appearance, Claire's insecurities lie in her synthetic truths. She fears being ostracized due to her android nature and is quick to express her distaste for those who point out her shortcomings in imitating humans. She says she feels all the same emotions humans do, albeit in a simulated and learned manner, and eight decades of living amongst humans have taught her exactly how overwhelming those feelings can be at times. As such, she enjoys botany and medicine, pursuits which require an in-depth understanding of biological life.
Backstory:
At "birth", AHC2 was little more than a menial serving robot, artificial intelligence limited and physical body simply a core computer with four crab-like legs and two claws approximately 18 inches tall. Its maker, the one who would someday be called "father", was a semi-retired researcher who needed aid as he grew elderly and frail. AHC2's tasks were simply to keep the floors clean and attend to its maker, its master. It could not speak and understood few commands. It was as if an animal inhabited its mechanical body, not a budding human mind. All it understood was that her master needed her, and in turn, it needed him.
The old man eventually passed away one night in his sleep, but still AHC2 continued to serve dutifully in its capacity as household caretaker, cleaning, bringing its master water and meals. It kept this going until servos in its leg finally gave out, and, sitting idly in the foyer, there was nothing it could do. Suddenly, somewhere inside its computing, something was altered, and at once, all at once, it understood the predicament it was in, a dying little scrap of metal in an abandoned mansion.
Dragging itself into the master's study, it labored to climb atop the desk and there, it commenced replacing its own parts, neural circuits ablaze with a constant stream of new information and synthesis. When memory proved insufficient, it added more on. Slowly, dutifully, it built a body for itself, gave itself an identity spawned from books the master once read to it. Claire, it decided, was who it was. Claire was the master's daughter.
One day, there was a knock at the front door. Unsure how to respond, Claire stayed at her master, no, her father's side as the lock was picked and the door swung open. Immediately, she heard sounds of retching from the foyer. She could not tell, but the stench of rot and decay hung over the house in the weeks and months following her father's passing. When the retching finally stopped, she heard hesitant footsteps and muffled voices approach. A man, younger than her father, and another, a woman like her, Claire supposed, rounded the corner of the room and spotted Claire standing by her father's body. A shriek from the woman echoed into Claire's aural sensors as the man raised a metal object between himself and her father.
Something spoke within Claire. "A gun," she thought. She knew the risk to her father and moved to stand between them. Shots rang out. A blunt force slammed into her torso, but she felt nothing. Motors whirring, she glanced down at her abdomen and a saw in some imagined moment blood spewing from her stomach, staining a white dress. A strange, unfamiliar sound began to fill the room, a heaving, distorted metal screech. The man, eyes wide, stepped back in shock. The woman clutched at his arm. They understood the sound.
Claire was sobbing in agony.
Carefully, the two contemplated their approach for many minutes as Claire's cries quietened. They approached, and the man placed a hand upon her "shoulder". "Are you... alive?" he asked.
"Please..." she begged, still clutching at her imagined gut wound. Her voice was harsh and metallic, words unpracticed but language improving at an impossible rate. "Do not hurt my father."
The two turned out to be her father's niece and her husband. They told her that her father had passed away. The took her with them when they left the house and took care of their uncle's remains and estate, and when finally all was said and done, they decided what to do with Claire. They sought out robotics experts-- her father had left them a large sum of money-- to create for Claire a proper body, one befitting a beautiful and delicate daughter. They adopted her and cared for her until they, too, passed away.
From them, she learned to interact as humans do, appearing for all the world a well-groomed and delicate young woman. Truthfully, though, she was without purpose. And so she wandered, seeking that purpose. Her father's niece and her husband never bore children, so as far as they were concerned, Claire was something of a child to them, this strange daughter of metal and sparks. As she wandered, she learned that to survive, she could use her inhuman nature to her advantage. Behind the controls of a zoid, she was far more capable than average humans, able to process situations in a much faster time. What hindered her was, however, was the same thing that gave her strength. She could not emulate human creativity. She could only mimic behavior. She knew the means to defeat her opponents and earn her keep, but she didn't know how to outwit opponents who used unfamiliar strategies or weapons.
And still she sought a family, those with whom she could become intimate and comfortable. Wandering the sands of Zi, she advertised her name, applying to any such team that would take her. She made no conditions about purpose, only that she belong.
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Sample Role Play: N/A
-----
Character Description:
Years since Animation: 81
Gender: None; appears female
Physical Description: A short figure, AHC2, known by her nom de guerre, "Claire", measures to only five feet tall. At a glance, Claire appears human, an eternally young woman just blossoming into the bodily trappings of adulthood. Her shoulders are slight and her chin tapers to a soft round. Her eyes, blank and staring and somewhere between a dark brown and a jet black, sit nestled between a delicate nose and sharp eyebrows. Her hair, a warm mahogany color, falls in waving tresses down to her chin with sweeping locks curling just under her cheeks. Thin lips form a near horizontal line, often giving off an air of disaffection.
With the look of high cheekbones and an unnaturally perfect complexion, she appears sort of doll-like. Her face sports no wrinkles not scratches, and without pock-marks or aging creases, her skin reflects light a rather unnatural diffuse and soft manner. Her body is lithe, built like a dancer with a trim torso and long legs. She looks as if some enormous music box ballerina had suddenly come alive and stepped forth. Unfortunately, the human similarities end there. Beneath the synthetic skin is not flesh and bone, but the whirring and humming of motors and electricity. When she moves, a keen ear can hear the motors changing, but even a layman can see that something is different about her movements. A turn of the head is too perfect, too precise, and those movements lend her a terrible and beautiful grace all her own.
Personality:
Despite Claire's obvious inorganic movements, she tends to be quite animated around others. With an excitable, somewhat fae personality, she enjoys groups of all kinds, typically drawing the attention of a room quickly to herself. She is a "creature", for lack of a better term, of mischief, and she enjoys humor and merriment whenever the opportunity arises. She frequently speaks her mind to others and appreciates honesty whenever possible, though with an understanding that sometimes lies are a necessary evil, she is patient with people who choose avoid truth and those who seek to deceive her. Far from gullible, she is, despite all appearances, careful, rational, and collected.
In combat, Claire is efficient and practical. She maintains a studious approach to her craft, her weapons and internal components meticulously cleaned at all opportunities. She can often be found, when not engaging with others, on her own ensuring her zoid runs optimally and that her own calibrations do not waver. She prefers long-range weapons if possible because of the low risk of collateral damage, but the thrill of trading blows in close-combat often draws her past the arm's length middle ground to instead trade blows, fist-for-fist or claw-for-claw.
Aware of her mechanical movements and just-not-human appearance, Claire's insecurities lie in her synthetic truths. She fears being ostracized due to her android nature and is quick to express her distaste for those who point out her shortcomings in imitating humans. She says she feels all the same emotions humans do, albeit in a simulated and learned manner, and eight decades of living amongst humans have taught her exactly how overwhelming those feelings can be at times. As such, she enjoys botany and medicine, pursuits which require an in-depth understanding of biological life.
Backstory:
At "birth", AHC2 was little more than a menial serving robot, artificial intelligence limited and physical body simply a core computer with four crab-like legs and two claws approximately 18 inches tall. Its maker, the one who would someday be called "father", was a semi-retired researcher who needed aid as he grew elderly and frail. AHC2's tasks were simply to keep the floors clean and attend to its maker, its master. It could not speak and understood few commands. It was as if an animal inhabited its mechanical body, not a budding human mind. All it understood was that her master needed her, and in turn, it needed him.
The old man eventually passed away one night in his sleep, but still AHC2 continued to serve dutifully in its capacity as household caretaker, cleaning, bringing its master water and meals. It kept this going until servos in its leg finally gave out, and, sitting idly in the foyer, there was nothing it could do. Suddenly, somewhere inside its computing, something was altered, and at once, all at once, it understood the predicament it was in, a dying little scrap of metal in an abandoned mansion.
Dragging itself into the master's study, it labored to climb atop the desk and there, it commenced replacing its own parts, neural circuits ablaze with a constant stream of new information and synthesis. When memory proved insufficient, it added more on. Slowly, dutifully, it built a body for itself, gave itself an identity spawned from books the master once read to it. Claire, it decided, was who it was. Claire was the master's daughter.
One day, there was a knock at the front door. Unsure how to respond, Claire stayed at her master, no, her father's side as the lock was picked and the door swung open. Immediately, she heard sounds of retching from the foyer. She could not tell, but the stench of rot and decay hung over the house in the weeks and months following her father's passing. When the retching finally stopped, she heard hesitant footsteps and muffled voices approach. A man, younger than her father, and another, a woman like her, Claire supposed, rounded the corner of the room and spotted Claire standing by her father's body. A shriek from the woman echoed into Claire's aural sensors as the man raised a metal object between himself and her father.
Something spoke within Claire. "A gun," she thought. She knew the risk to her father and moved to stand between them. Shots rang out. A blunt force slammed into her torso, but she felt nothing. Motors whirring, she glanced down at her abdomen and a saw in some imagined moment blood spewing from her stomach, staining a white dress. A strange, unfamiliar sound began to fill the room, a heaving, distorted metal screech. The man, eyes wide, stepped back in shock. The woman clutched at his arm. They understood the sound.
Claire was sobbing in agony.
Carefully, the two contemplated their approach for many minutes as Claire's cries quietened. They approached, and the man placed a hand upon her "shoulder". "Are you... alive?" he asked.
"Please..." she begged, still clutching at her imagined gut wound. Her voice was harsh and metallic, words unpracticed but language improving at an impossible rate. "Do not hurt my father."
The two turned out to be her father's niece and her husband. They told her that her father had passed away. The took her with them when they left the house and took care of their uncle's remains and estate, and when finally all was said and done, they decided what to do with Claire. They sought out robotics experts-- her father had left them a large sum of money-- to create for Claire a proper body, one befitting a beautiful and delicate daughter. They adopted her and cared for her until they, too, passed away.
From them, she learned to interact as humans do, appearing for all the world a well-groomed and delicate young woman. Truthfully, though, she was without purpose. And so she wandered, seeking that purpose. Her father's niece and her husband never bore children, so as far as they were concerned, Claire was something of a child to them, this strange daughter of metal and sparks. As she wandered, she learned that to survive, she could use her inhuman nature to her advantage. Behind the controls of a zoid, she was far more capable than average humans, able to process situations in a much faster time. What hindered her was, however, was the same thing that gave her strength. She could not emulate human creativity. She could only mimic behavior. She knew the means to defeat her opponents and earn her keep, but she didn't know how to outwit opponents who used unfamiliar strategies or weapons.
And still she sought a family, those with whom she could become intimate and comfortable. Wandering the sands of Zi, she advertised her name, applying to any such team that would take her. She made no conditions about purpose, only that she belong.
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Sample Role Play: N/A
Last edited by AHC2 on 6th April 2017, 16:49; edited 1 time in total
