Entry tags:
Zhautas Application
PLAYER PROFILE
Player name: Spider
Age: Over 18. I remember the LJ days of yore.
Contact: Plurk:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
PaleAntiquarian, Discord: CellarSpider#9984
Characters currently in-game: N/A
Triggers/Fears/Squicks: Vore of the being swallowed whole variety, inflation, cruelty to animals including insects and spiders (unsurprisingly, given my handle).
Character Motivation: Tyl is coming in on a CRAU from Reverie Terminal. He has been stuck in a rusting bucket above an unfamiliar world for a couple of months. If told there's a way off the station, he'd take it, especially if introduced as some sort of big biological experiment he can mess with.
VOLUNTEER PROFILE
Name: Tyl Regor
Age: Rude to ask a Grineer their age. [[ooc: Tyl's age is unknown. All Grineer begin their waking lives as physically and mentally adults.]]
Physical Appearance: Gladly. It's from my design documents, though I don't have that pair of arms with me. I've just got an everyday pair for now. Don't let the lack of scale fool you, though. I'm 230 cm tall, give or take a few depending on accessories.
Point in Timeline: Cracked open a Sentient tomb, found fascinating things, would've revolutionized Grineer technology, Grineer bodies, but someone just had to seal it up again!
World Description: Fine, fine. Remedial history it is.
The Orokin made Grineer so we’d die digging out asteroids and they’d get to laze about in eternal luxury. Until the Sentients showed up, anyway. Don’t know what those things are, but they smashed the Orokin, didn’t matter whether the gilded little worms sent out Infested, Warframes, made strains of Grineer soldiers.
The last one bit them hard. Last two, really. Warframes—Tenno, whatever they want to call those lizards--beat the Sentients, then came back and started slaughtering Orokin too. By then, our Twin Queens had found us, showed us how to rebel, how to crush the last of the Orokin and take our cloning tubes for ourselves. They unified the Grineer, everything was in the vicinity of happy, hurray.
So, these days the Origin System’s all Orokin wreckage, Corpus money-worship, some small, unimportant little colonies of other human miscellany. The Warframes have woken up (thanks, Vor, you insufferable old man), and the execrable Doctor Tengus (not fit for that title! He’s a hack!) had a lab safety breach and let the Infested out to start assimilating the System again. And in the center of it all, our post-human Grineer Empire, still on a path to taking over under our eternal Queens, no matter how much of ourselves aren’t original parts anymore.
Because the Orokin always made us cheap, and our templates weren’t made to go centuries without... some sort of tinkering, we still don’t know what. Decade by decade, old Grineer templates turning into a disgusting, rotten soup of bad genetics. And we were made for servitude, even the soldiers. It’s only the rare mutants (hello!) who get a shot at real ambition.
History/Background: [[ooc: early portions of this are conjecture. We know next to nothing about the early careers of any of the Grineer elite. Wiki link is here.]]
Thought you’d never ask.
I was made from a soldier template, got all the conditioning, standard limb amputation, the basic set of Butcher body augments and shoved out of the cloning halls, all bright-eyed and ready to murder. But I was already different. Better fashion sense. Faster. Smarter. And I wasn’t just coming up with better ways to kill whatever I got pointed at, no, I wanted more. Wasn’t easy. Getting noticed means stepping out of line, no one else likes that. Too bad! I upgraded myself, stole data from the labs I was guarding, started doing better work than they were.
Gene repair became my specialty, one of my specialties. But that’s the one the Queens really wanted, and when they finally slapped Vay Hek off his high perch commanding the fleet, they wanted me to replace him. My plans for the future of the Grineer, with a royal mandate and everything! More resources, better labs, nicer augments. I look fantastic now.
Of course, it’s still not easy. Shouldn’t have ignored the lizards as long as I did, scuttling around in the weeds, the Tenno and their Lotus guiding them are a menace. I’ve been growing my new Grineer, my Tubemen, the best army the System has to offer, the first batch was almost done! …And then the Tenno scamper in, working for those spineless Corpus executives, steal my data, poison my waters, destroy my Tubemen! The poor, poor Tubemen, twisted and rotting, never to kill a single thing!
I was angry, oh, so angry, still am. Work didn’t stop, though, no matter how much they wanted it to. More research, more advancements, more of my beautiful Manics shipped out to claw Tenno to pieces, the lovable little scamps. And then I started thinking about the Sentients. How’d they smash the Orokin? No one else could, no one had the technology, but they, they were something special, something different. Had to know. Found one of their tombs, and they started waking up! Knew I had something then, something I wanted, started drilling into the tomb—well. I’ve already gone over this.
Got angry again (still angry) when the Tenno ruined everything. Decided I needed to hit some of them.
It didn’t go well.
But anyway! The important part: I’m the one in charge of fixing us. I’m doing the real work. Making Grineer better than we ever were. Stronger. Smarter! Deadlier.
Or at least I would be, if I could get back to it. Consider this some charity work, I don’t intend to be here long.
Noteworthy Positive Characteristics: Immodesty is a sin. So glad you'll indulge me anyway.
Intelligence. Well, obviously. And not like when you network a couple of heads together to make a lab technician either, I’m not just memorizing facts. My mind’s flexible. Unconstrained. But not falling out of my skull like certain people I could mention. My labs stay clean, and secret, and you don’t get to know anything more about them. Nice try.
Ambition. I started with a mandate to poke holes in anyone an officer told me needed perforation, and now I have a mandate to save the Empire. That’s my doing. When I want something, I make it mine.
Curiosity. Intelligence and ambition don’t really mean anything unless you keep moving. Don’t just hammer on the same old things over and over (yes, Sargas, we know you think setting things on fire will solve all our problems), don’t resign yourself to working within the bounds of what’s already known (Tengus is such a hack). Keep thinking about the right things, whatever the situation calls for, have an idea of how to get there. And I always do.
Loyalty. This one’s required. All glory to the Twin Queens, et cetera. We’re conditioned for it, we like it that way, end of story.
Fashion Sense. I don’t just mean all that human nonsense, just wearing clothes or putting ink in you or tiny little metal specks in your skin. Real fashion. All the most important Grineer get into it somehow, but, honestly, they can’t keep up. All the pure military-types are stuck under chunky armor that can’t be properly tailored for looks, the Councilors are all form and no function (unless you’re Vay Hek, in which case you are all volume, no form, no function anyone’s ever been able to divine). Kela De Thaym’s the next best thing, but still, she’s not me. I’ve got the curves the rest wish they could have—I did the math, they’re the optimal curves! And all in a frame full of interchangeable high-performance augments, for whatever the day calls for. Or at least I would have those, if I wasn’t stuck with a single pair of arms and legs right now.
Noteworthy Negative Characteristics: I’m less thrilled by this section.
Anger. Look. Some days things just don’t go the way you want them to. Everyone has those times! And I might be a researcher now, but my stock’s military. High-aggression. Lots of conditioning to get out there and deal with your problems hands-on. And sometimes that means when you get frustrated, you take the initiative, grab that problem by the throat and squeeze.
Pride. I’ve been told this is a problem. But everyone who’s anyone is proud of what they are, deserving or not.
Grineer Chauvinism. I’m putting this here because it’s a problem for you. Not for me. Rotten genetics or not, we’re still stronger than you are. Physically and otherwise. We're the people who came from nothing, were made specifically to be nothing, to know nothing, and we beat you all anyway. We tricked the Orokin, we built our Empire, and we are taking what we’re owed. Humans are yesterday’s model. Whatever you’re getting up to here, well, I don’t really care.
Powers/Abilities: All that negative stuff about what we were built for? Only part of the picture. We’re built for heavy lifting. Better muscle density On the parts that don’t get connective tissue degeneration, but that’s why we amputate! Body augments are a wonderful thing. Better than the originals, sometimes! I can take those parts clean off when I feel like it. And it all hooks directly into my nervous system. Fast, fluid response, sensory feedback, the whole package, none of the mess.
And it’s not just nicer, stronger parts. Especially not for me. No, functional augments give you all sorts of nice upgrades. Want to teleport through walls? Turn invisible? It’s fun. I’m not sharing, though, so don’t ask. Unless you have something that can help deal with the problems I’ve been having lately. Everything probably would’ve been over and done with if I could’ve just gotten to the blocked off areas of that moldering old space station, but no! Something was blocking me.
[[ooc: Tyl’s teleport range isn’t huge, it’s maybe 10-20m. In Reverie Terminal, attempting to get into areas locked to player characters would result in failure to teleport and feedback that left him feeling sick and unable to try again. His physical strength is offset by the health problems common to all Grineer: he is chronically ill and may require time out of commission beyond injuries sustained in-game. If he has to eat something that isn’t Grineer-safe without antibiotics and anti-nausea medication, he’ll definitely get sick.]]
Character Fears: I’m afraid I don’t like this question. Don’t like people nosing around in my things, contaminating my science. Is that what this is about? More attempts to steal my work? Well. If that’s how it’s going to be. I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck in the clammy clutches of meddling human constructs for so long that the Queens are going to give up on my work, but you know what? Can’t be worse than where I've just been. Plague or not, if that's even real. Don't care.
Personal Item: Nothing. You just get me. Lucky. You.
VOLUNTEER SAMPLES
Network Sample: Ugh. Fine.
Action Log Sample: I don't like all these demands you're making, but even I get desperate sometimes. Here. Have fun. [[ooc: this was from the final log of the game, so no one replied to that toplevel. However, he did participate in an event thread from the same post, available here. Please let me know you you'd like another sample from somewhere! These are just the most relevant ones for his CRAU.]]
Time Spent Across Multiverse:
Reverie Terminal. Nasty place. Rusty, zero-tech beyond the dimension-warping drive it has on board. Sort of falling apart at the moment. Drive might be breaching. Space is warping, intercom’s screeching—doesn’t sound important but it’s been days and I am sick of it. Oh, and—It’s got a lizard infestation. A Tenno. Just one. More than enough. Little ugly freak’s been peeled out of its scaly skin, but it’s still somewhere in there. Making that place foul. If you've taken me and not it, well, that’ll make up for all those awful questions you’ve asked me. I might even be thankful.
Player name: Spider
Age: Over 18. I remember the LJ days of yore.
Contact: Plurk:
Characters currently in-game: N/A
Triggers/Fears/Squicks: Vore of the being swallowed whole variety, inflation, cruelty to animals including insects and spiders (unsurprisingly, given my handle).
Character Motivation: Tyl is coming in on a CRAU from Reverie Terminal. He has been stuck in a rusting bucket above an unfamiliar world for a couple of months. If told there's a way off the station, he'd take it, especially if introduced as some sort of big biological experiment he can mess with.
VOLUNTEER PROFILE
Name: Tyl Regor
Age: Rude to ask a Grineer their age. [[ooc: Tyl's age is unknown. All Grineer begin their waking lives as physically and mentally adults.]]
Physical Appearance: Gladly. It's from my design documents, though I don't have that pair of arms with me. I've just got an everyday pair for now. Don't let the lack of scale fool you, though. I'm 230 cm tall, give or take a few depending on accessories.
Point in Timeline: Cracked open a Sentient tomb, found fascinating things, would've revolutionized Grineer technology, Grineer bodies, but someone just had to seal it up again!
World Description: Fine, fine. Remedial history it is.
The Orokin made Grineer so we’d die digging out asteroids and they’d get to laze about in eternal luxury. Until the Sentients showed up, anyway. Don’t know what those things are, but they smashed the Orokin, didn’t matter whether the gilded little worms sent out Infested, Warframes, made strains of Grineer soldiers.
The last one bit them hard. Last two, really. Warframes—Tenno, whatever they want to call those lizards--beat the Sentients, then came back and started slaughtering Orokin too. By then, our Twin Queens had found us, showed us how to rebel, how to crush the last of the Orokin and take our cloning tubes for ourselves. They unified the Grineer, everything was in the vicinity of happy, hurray.
So, these days the Origin System’s all Orokin wreckage, Corpus money-worship, some small, unimportant little colonies of other human miscellany. The Warframes have woken up (thanks, Vor, you insufferable old man), and the execrable Doctor Tengus (not fit for that title! He’s a hack!) had a lab safety breach and let the Infested out to start assimilating the System again. And in the center of it all, our post-human Grineer Empire, still on a path to taking over under our eternal Queens, no matter how much of ourselves aren’t original parts anymore.
Because the Orokin always made us cheap, and our templates weren’t made to go centuries without... some sort of tinkering, we still don’t know what. Decade by decade, old Grineer templates turning into a disgusting, rotten soup of bad genetics. And we were made for servitude, even the soldiers. It’s only the rare mutants (hello!) who get a shot at real ambition.
History/Background: [[ooc: early portions of this are conjecture. We know next to nothing about the early careers of any of the Grineer elite. Wiki link is here.]]
Thought you’d never ask.
I was made from a soldier template, got all the conditioning, standard limb amputation, the basic set of Butcher body augments and shoved out of the cloning halls, all bright-eyed and ready to murder. But I was already different. Better fashion sense. Faster. Smarter. And I wasn’t just coming up with better ways to kill whatever I got pointed at, no, I wanted more. Wasn’t easy. Getting noticed means stepping out of line, no one else likes that. Too bad! I upgraded myself, stole data from the labs I was guarding, started doing better work than they were.
Gene repair became my specialty, one of my specialties. But that’s the one the Queens really wanted, and when they finally slapped Vay Hek off his high perch commanding the fleet, they wanted me to replace him. My plans for the future of the Grineer, with a royal mandate and everything! More resources, better labs, nicer augments. I look fantastic now.
Of course, it’s still not easy. Shouldn’t have ignored the lizards as long as I did, scuttling around in the weeds, the Tenno and their Lotus guiding them are a menace. I’ve been growing my new Grineer, my Tubemen, the best army the System has to offer, the first batch was almost done! …And then the Tenno scamper in, working for those spineless Corpus executives, steal my data, poison my waters, destroy my Tubemen! The poor, poor Tubemen, twisted and rotting, never to kill a single thing!
I was angry, oh, so angry, still am. Work didn’t stop, though, no matter how much they wanted it to. More research, more advancements, more of my beautiful Manics shipped out to claw Tenno to pieces, the lovable little scamps. And then I started thinking about the Sentients. How’d they smash the Orokin? No one else could, no one had the technology, but they, they were something special, something different. Had to know. Found one of their tombs, and they started waking up! Knew I had something then, something I wanted, started drilling into the tomb—well. I’ve already gone over this.
Got angry again (still angry) when the Tenno ruined everything. Decided I needed to hit some of them.
It didn’t go well.
But anyway! The important part: I’m the one in charge of fixing us. I’m doing the real work. Making Grineer better than we ever were. Stronger. Smarter! Deadlier.
Or at least I would be, if I could get back to it. Consider this some charity work, I don’t intend to be here long.
Noteworthy Positive Characteristics: Immodesty is a sin. So glad you'll indulge me anyway.
Intelligence. Well, obviously. And not like when you network a couple of heads together to make a lab technician either, I’m not just memorizing facts. My mind’s flexible. Unconstrained. But not falling out of my skull like certain people I could mention. My labs stay clean, and secret, and you don’t get to know anything more about them. Nice try.
Ambition. I started with a mandate to poke holes in anyone an officer told me needed perforation, and now I have a mandate to save the Empire. That’s my doing. When I want something, I make it mine.
Curiosity. Intelligence and ambition don’t really mean anything unless you keep moving. Don’t just hammer on the same old things over and over (yes, Sargas, we know you think setting things on fire will solve all our problems), don’t resign yourself to working within the bounds of what’s already known (Tengus is such a hack). Keep thinking about the right things, whatever the situation calls for, have an idea of how to get there. And I always do.
Loyalty. This one’s required. All glory to the Twin Queens, et cetera. We’re conditioned for it, we like it that way, end of story.
Fashion Sense. I don’t just mean all that human nonsense, just wearing clothes or putting ink in you or tiny little metal specks in your skin. Real fashion. All the most important Grineer get into it somehow, but, honestly, they can’t keep up. All the pure military-types are stuck under chunky armor that can’t be properly tailored for looks, the Councilors are all form and no function (unless you’re Vay Hek, in which case you are all volume, no form, no function anyone’s ever been able to divine). Kela De Thaym’s the next best thing, but still, she’s not me. I’ve got the curves the rest wish they could have—I did the math, they’re the optimal curves! And all in a frame full of interchangeable high-performance augments, for whatever the day calls for. Or at least I would have those, if I wasn’t stuck with a single pair of arms and legs right now.
Noteworthy Negative Characteristics: I’m less thrilled by this section.
Anger. Look. Some days things just don’t go the way you want them to. Everyone has those times! And I might be a researcher now, but my stock’s military. High-aggression. Lots of conditioning to get out there and deal with your problems hands-on. And sometimes that means when you get frustrated, you take the initiative, grab that problem by the throat and squeeze.
Pride. I’ve been told this is a problem. But everyone who’s anyone is proud of what they are, deserving or not.
Grineer Chauvinism. I’m putting this here because it’s a problem for you. Not for me. Rotten genetics or not, we’re still stronger than you are. Physically and otherwise. We're the people who came from nothing, were made specifically to be nothing, to know nothing, and we beat you all anyway. We tricked the Orokin, we built our Empire, and we are taking what we’re owed. Humans are yesterday’s model. Whatever you’re getting up to here, well, I don’t really care.
Powers/Abilities: All that negative stuff about what we were built for? Only part of the picture. We’re built for heavy lifting. Better muscle density On the parts that don’t get connective tissue degeneration, but that’s why we amputate! Body augments are a wonderful thing. Better than the originals, sometimes! I can take those parts clean off when I feel like it. And it all hooks directly into my nervous system. Fast, fluid response, sensory feedback, the whole package, none of the mess.
And it’s not just nicer, stronger parts. Especially not for me. No, functional augments give you all sorts of nice upgrades. Want to teleport through walls? Turn invisible? It’s fun. I’m not sharing, though, so don’t ask. Unless you have something that can help deal with the problems I’ve been having lately. Everything probably would’ve been over and done with if I could’ve just gotten to the blocked off areas of that moldering old space station, but no! Something was blocking me.
[[ooc: Tyl’s teleport range isn’t huge, it’s maybe 10-20m. In Reverie Terminal, attempting to get into areas locked to player characters would result in failure to teleport and feedback that left him feeling sick and unable to try again. His physical strength is offset by the health problems common to all Grineer: he is chronically ill and may require time out of commission beyond injuries sustained in-game. If he has to eat something that isn’t Grineer-safe without antibiotics and anti-nausea medication, he’ll definitely get sick.]]
Character Fears: I’m afraid I don’t like this question. Don’t like people nosing around in my things, contaminating my science. Is that what this is about? More attempts to steal my work? Well. If that’s how it’s going to be. I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck in the clammy clutches of meddling human constructs for so long that the Queens are going to give up on my work, but you know what? Can’t be worse than where I've just been. Plague or not, if that's even real. Don't care.
Personal Item: Nothing. You just get me. Lucky. You.
VOLUNTEER SAMPLES
Network Sample: Ugh. Fine.
Action Log Sample: I don't like all these demands you're making, but even I get desperate sometimes. Here. Have fun. [[ooc: this was from the final log of the game, so no one replied to that toplevel. However, he did participate in an event thread from the same post, available here. Please let me know you you'd like another sample from somewhere! These are just the most relevant ones for his CRAU.]]
Time Spent Across Multiverse:
Reverie Terminal. Nasty place. Rusty, zero-tech beyond the dimension-warping drive it has on board. Sort of falling apart at the moment. Drive might be breaching. Space is warping, intercom’s screeching—doesn’t sound important but it’s been days and I am sick of it. Oh, and—It’s got a lizard infestation. A Tenno. Just one. More than enough. Little ugly freak’s been peeled out of its scaly skin, but it’s still somewhere in there. Making that place foul. If you've taken me and not it, well, that’ll make up for all those awful questions you’ve asked me. I might even be thankful.