Byond ID: archyzt
Marine Name: Archie Asalie
Name/Designation of the Synth Character you’re requesting to use: Archer
Are you familiar with the Synthetic Programming and Guidelines? Quite!
Synthetic Character Story:
► Show Spoiler
"There is nothing of use in here."
"What? They must of kept some kinda records. Why else even have the damn computers."
The synthetic rose from the computer, freshly and meticulously swept in every possible way for information. "I am afraid not. I fear they may have had time to cover their tracks."
A scowl. "Useless bloody delta. They had all the opportunities they needed."
"I am confidant they tried their best. They would have meant to ensure this would not have happened."
The man lights a cigarette. "Yeah? Intent is easy. Doesn't help us fuck all right now."
A moment of silent consideration. "That is fair."
Sgt. Wilhelm looks over to squint at Archer. He searches for a reason to take another jab, but finds nothing worthwhile in the synthetic's faint frown as it stares at the ground in thought.
"Tch. Well, we'll try somewhere else, yeah?"
"Of course. I am sure we will find-"
The sound of gunfire rings out, stifling further comment. There is shouting outside.
the Sgt. pushes past the synthetic towards the front door, already at alert. "You head back to the FOB. Take this."
He reaches for a satchel containing loose documents and disks. He throws it at Archer, who gracefully catches it in one hand and holds it as their side, not putting it on. The frown only deepens.
"Your mission parameters specify recon. Will you be safe in an engagement?"
"I trained for gettin' my shit kicked in boy, now get the hell out of here."
Archer gains a small smile. "You always were one for action, Sgt. Wilhelm."
"Yeah yeah, now git. See ya back ship-side."
The soldier disappears through the front door. Archer is left to stand still for a moment, before turning and making a brisk pace towards the backdoor.
---
Archer steadily exits from the back of a ruined structure, holding up one hand in a gesture of peace as a pair of wary eyed soldiers consider it, before recognition kicks in. They turn down the gate and quickly wave Archer through without a word.
Archer nods politely. They grip the bag with both hands, now, holding it in front of them, as they make their way through the haphazard tents and acquired half-buildings. This place really did turn for the worst after this small rebellion affair.
Archer's frown is omnipresent, as the machine considers this. A pity all this happened, really.
They are pulled from their reverie, however, as a Lt. waves them down. "Synthetic! Over here."
Archer obligingly walks over, his face lighting up a little. "Is everything alright? Can I assist?"
The command tent is awash with shouting and hurried speaking into radios. Something is wrong.
The officer waves his hand in frustration. "One thing at a time. To a degree, and yes. Did you find anything at that post we cleared out?"
"Yes and no." They hold out the satchel. "Nothing of pressing tactical concern, but we did find some names in leftover personal correspondence. Useful for associating specific crimes to specific people, and making sure punishment is proportional to-"
Archer identifies the hand motion from the man that signals 'get on with it.'
"-Things of that nature."
"Right. Sure."
The scribble down some coordinates and a few key messages on a scrap of paper, which they tear off and hold out. "Take this to command on your way up."
Archer smiles, moving the satchel back to one hand, and accepting the paper with the other. "Of course. If there is anything I can do..."
"This'll be enough."
They are about to turn away, before they take a sharp breath.
"Thank you, Synthetic."
They finish turning, and move to another table of the open air tent, already calling down someone else.
---
The landing pad is a standard makeshift affair. Archer has been waiting a few minutes, now; standing quite still, and only occasionally licking it's lips and adjusting it's jaw.
This time around, Archer has not been made privy to the operation's communications, but the behavior of everyone around betrays unease. The synthetic carefully eyes passing men and women, but only when it is sure they cannot see them looking.
The dropship is approaching. It closes in, still a dot in the sky. You could see the trails from it's re-entry.
On cue, a medic rolls out a stretcher with a gentlemen groaning a particularly uncreative string of expletives.
They go back into the medical tent. A pair of soldiers run across the base camp, opposite the landing pad.
The dropship gets closer. The medic rolls out a second stretcher. This man is unconscious.
The base is silent a moment. The dropship gets closer.
The medic is wheeling out a third stretcher. This one has a body bag.
The same pair of soldiers come back into view. One puts on a helmet.
The faint noise of something falling.
Archer has had all the warning it needs. It quickly ducks closer to the ground.
Bang!
A cacophonous explosion rings out none-too-close. Two others follow soon after. Pillars of dirt rise up above the tents and ruined buildings. The medic is knocked off her feet.
"Fuck!"
Archer is already upright again. The still awake soldier on the first stretcher screams.
"We stand victim of a mortar strike. Likely firing position is to the north west.
There are still bits of dirt and mud falling to the ground in the time it takes the synthetic to make this assessment. The medic looks up at the synthetic with some mixture of confusion and alarm as she puts a hand to her radio, still scrambling to her feet among the roar of alarms.
"Mortar strike! North west! Go! Go!"
The dropship has elected not to change course. Engines roaring, it pulls up violently as it stops just above the clearing. Archer raises an arm to shield itself from the worst of the dust. It slings the satchel over it's shoulder.
"Are you hurt?"
"Yeah! I'll be okay!" The medic is just finished brushing herself off as she turns her attention to the casualties on stretchers.
Archer, unsurprisingly, frowns a moment. "I will trust your judgement as a medical individual. An application of triage is appropriate."
On the stretcher, a large piece of shrapnel has embedded itself into the fellows stomach. Gunfire rings out about the camp.
"Severe puncturing. This man is in danger."
The dropship touches down without spooling out. The back door opens.
The medic finishes a quick observation from her handheld scanner. "Yeah, he is."
The pair get about quickly pushing all three stretchers on board. The medic approaches an intercom in the back and exchanges some heated banter with the pilot, matched in volume only by the gunfire and shouting present elsewhere in the camp. Charming as ever.
She turns back to Archer, and slaps them on the back none too gently. "So you gotta look after him!"
"You are not coming up?"
She unstrings a shotgun. "I got a battle to tend too."
The synthetic watches her march back down the ramp. "This area may be unsafe! Your medical expertise would not at all be wasted on these men."
She looks back up with a grin. "Yeah; and the bloody boots down 'ere are always getting themselves shot, too. Don't you worry."
The ramp begins slowly raising. Archer bites it's bottom lip a moment. "Please be careful."
"You know how to look after wounded, right?"
A nod. "I will do my utmost."
She gives a final salute before turning away. "You'll be fine!"
The dropship leaves the ground, and the ramp gets over halfway closed. The medic leaves view, and Archer is privy to a last look at the base, two fires visibly present, before being whisked away.
Archer turns to the wounded man, blissfully uninvolved in the conversation, but still crying out in what must be agonizing pain.
Archer's face shifts from a concerned frown to a focused one. They get to work, their thoughts and 'feelings' on the matter entirely secondary to what it must do.
---
Upon the dropship's arrival to the carrier ship, the wounded man had been treated, bandaged, and stabilized. The doctors commended the groundside medics for a particularly good job on it. Archer nodded, and agreed; the medic had been most respectable, after all.
Now; Archer walks briskly through the hallways towards the command information centre. Its face was in its default position as it evaluated what had occurred thus far.
They walk in, and their expression lightens back up as usual. The room is tense as ever; a cool silence oppressed by purpose. An officer looks up from their maps.
"Ah; you're back."
Archer reaches into it's pocket and presents the scrap of paper it had received earlier. "From groundside command, Sir."
He nods, and accepts it. He eyes it briefly, nodding slowly. "...Right. Okay, damn it, hold on."
"Is the operating base secure?"
"Yes! Just a guerilla attack. Nothing we can't handle."
"I am relieved to hear it."
They turn and jog back to a overwatch station, already back on the radio. Archer quietly places it's satchel on the central table, arranging it neatly.
The Commander hasn't noticed Archer's presence. No one else in the room has. Archer stands politely with it's hands folded for a time.
Then it's frown returns. The synthetic is looking over at a tactical map, and something particular catches the eye.
Recon squad Foxtrot, defunct.
Archer speaks up to the officer who had spoken to him. "Pardon me?"
He tilts his head slightly towards the synthetic. "Mm?"
"What is the status of Foxtrot Recon?"
"What?"
"Please excuse me, Sir; The squad sent to assess a recently assaulted command post of the enemy's. I was attached to them."
The officer seems to not be paying attention for a moment, then recognition dawns. "Oh! Oh, uh... mm. Yes, them."
They for just a moment take their headset away from one ear and turn to face the synthetic. "...Lost in action. Suffered an attack; preamble to the assault we just repulsed."
Archer swallows. "Is Sgt. Wilhelm safe?"
The officer squints at the Synthetic. "...No. None of them are. All KIA or MIA."
"Oh."
The officer shakes his head slowly. "Yeah, not great." They return their headset over their ear, and turn back away.
Archer stands where they are a moment later.
The air filtration system is audible.
Another officer walks through at some point.
The coolness in here is damnably oppressive.
---
Several hours later.
Archer stands alone in the hallway outside the memorial. Not many people go in there these days.
The synthetic is frowning. It has memorized every name on the post-action medical report. Some of those names are on the slab beyond the glass window Archer is standing against.
Most people don't have the time to dwell. And, Archer reasons, that makes sense. It is not something you can blame a human for.
Someone calls Archer; another matter, another concern. Archer simply nods once, and that small smile returns to it's face.
"Hello; I am Archer. Please; how can I help you?"
Archer is concerned. About everything; people, what they're doing, how they're doing it, and sometimes, the reasons. You might describe them as anxious, or perhaps even
distressed, but the word 'concerned' I think best summarizes it. They want the best for everyone, and tries to help all they can.
I am aware that synthetics are not affected by emotions in terms of decision making and such. But; I think it's important to remember that they do
understand human emotions, and to degrees, will respond to them in the appropriate way. I intend to play with this interaction between acting without emotion, under the impression of possessing it, with how I play Archer. I am also sympathetic to the idea that synthetics are able to think about things in a quasi-philosophical way when given the spare time to do so. I cite David on this one.
They are polite, and maybe even friendly. Social convention is not above Archer, they are absolutely able to handle themselves in a conversation. They are a bit of a butler when addressing command staff or the Corporate liaison, and still positive and supportive of everyone else. They hope for the best, but are always,
always planning for the worst. Archer likes to have faith in the character and ability of those around them.
I intend to have them be a lot of support, helping out as people ask for them, and doing medical assistance as it is necessary. I hope to get involved with research (Update pending) and tertiary objectives as they come up. Whilst Archer will do any support role on the ship, I hope to not step on any department's toes unless they need the help. Being non-confrontational, I hope to be able to avoid combat most of the time.
How familiar are you with support roles?
I am very confidant in my abilities as a doctor and an engineer, and can absolutely handle requisitions. I am also well versed in the flow of command, and the use of the consoles. Citing over two years of exposure to this nonsense at this point, I hope you will find my abilities not lacking. Mind you; whilst I do know how to be an MP, I'd really rather not. You can trust me to do the right thing, though.
I can fly the dropship, load and fire the OB, build defenses, fix APCs, fiddle with the odd defective disposals pipe, so on.
Why should we whitelist you?
I've been at this a long time, have ample experience with RP, and whilst I hope you will forgive that I play often during Australia hours and not on a daily basis, I can judge the ebb of a round, and know when it's time for sitting about doing not much, and when to take charge of a few surgeries. I'm not afraid of my own responsibilities.
I'm also quite interested in AI as a subject. I hope I'll be able to explore this, and reflect the version of AI present in this universe well!
On top of that, I think a little positivity can go a long way. We've all seen the grumpy, snarky, or otherwise smart-mouthed characters, in
all roles on the ship. I think a little influence in the opposite direction can be meaningful. Archer is worried about people, and always willing to show a smile. What's better; he's a synth, so he can't be offended. Always a little source of 'maybe-it's-not-so-bad'. Even if he, and everyone else, is expecting it to indeed be that bad.
Feedback on this application is appreciated, and if not this time, maybe the next, if I can improve on what went wrong. I figure it's worth me best go, as it's something I've thought about for a while.
Have you been banned from CM in the last month for any reason?
Happy to say that's not the case.
Are you currently banned from any other servers and if so, why?
Not at all that I'm aware of.
Do you understand that any player - donor or otherwise - can have their whitelist status revoked should they break our rules or the Synthetic Programming Guideline?
Absolutely, and fair enough.
