Marine Name:
Natalie Holderman, Anastasia Acros
Name/Designation of the Synth Character you’re requesting to use:
Sarah
Are you familiar with the Synthetic Programming and Guidelines (viewtopic.php?f=57&t=14417)?
Yes
Why should we whitelist you?
So that I may better support my superiors behind the front lines and in any situation needed, providing better structural support for personal, while following the law to a letter.
Have you been banned from CM in the last month for any reason (we will check, and lies may result in immediate denial)?
No
Are you currently banned from any other servers and if so, why?
No
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?
Yes
How familiar are you with support roles? (ie; Medical, MT, Science, SO)
Very, I've played all of them, I've played ss13 in general for years and thus know much more than is necessary for most of these roles.
How do you intend to play your Synth (as in, describe HOW you will act/play your Synth and what support roles you’ll mainly focus on, what is your synthetics quirk)?
► Show Spoiler
An engineering focused Synthetic, familiar with tools and how to use them. Assisting mainly with Engineering, Dropship Maintenance, and occasionally Requisitions.
Sarah's mind is very scientific and engineering focused, albeit a sarcastic one; her model line was designed with this function in mind almost exclusively, so that it may work on ships with little to no engineering crew present. To comfort human companions, snips are often made as an attempt at humor, or lower the apparent danger that could cause a panic.
She is designed for optimization; if possible, she will attempt to reconfigure, or rebuild, a specific computer, object, or construction, so that it is more efficient. However, she will always ask highest ranking personnel beforehand, as a model that does what it wants is not a model that is wanted. Should the need arise, she is also able to construct a solar array from scratch, refill an entire ship with air, keep three lines of barricades intact under incoming fire, repair a colony's broken reactor, or refurbish a room with mahogany wood, quickly and cheaply, if not with the occasional snippy sarcastic remark about the improper wiring of the room.
Sarah's mind is very scientific and engineering focused, albeit a sarcastic one; her model line was designed with this function in mind almost exclusively, so that it may work on ships with little to no engineering crew present. To comfort human companions, snips are often made as an attempt at humor, or lower the apparent danger that could cause a panic.
She is designed for optimization; if possible, she will attempt to reconfigure, or rebuild, a specific computer, object, or construction, so that it is more efficient. However, she will always ask highest ranking personnel beforehand, as a model that does what it wants is not a model that is wanted. Should the need arise, she is also able to construct a solar array from scratch, refill an entire ship with air, keep three lines of barricades intact under incoming fire, repair a colony's broken reactor, or refurbish a room with mahogany wood, quickly and cheaply, if not with the occasional snippy sarcastic remark about the improper wiring of the room.
► Show Spoiler
Whrrrrrr, Bang. :67.2% integrity:
Sarah could calculate the orbital trajectory of a shell fired from the surface of a planet against an asteroid a million kilometers away in the time it took most people to do basic arithmetic.
Bang, Whrrrrrr, Bang, :75.4% integrity:
She was fully capable of constructing a solar array on a star ship from scrap parts in a quarter of the time it would take a human to do it, with a quarter of the resources, and able to catch up to at least 43.35% more starlight.
Whrrrrrrrrrrrr. :82.6% integrity:
The synthetic could as easily calm a nuclear reactor mere moment from detonation into a state of safety as she could refurbish a room with wooden flooring.
Whrrrrrrrrrrr-:100% integrity restored:-ZZZIIIIIP!
And here she was, welding holes in standard issue USCM barricade, with a standard issue welding torch in an active war zone.
Sarah didn't feel upset at her wasted potential, far from it; she couldn't feel at all. Her digital mind was focused on keeping the few barricades used for cover from falling apart. The closest thing to panic that she experienced as a bullet whizzed over her head was mild concern that the bullet may have hit one of the wounded marines being treated behind her. They had been ordered to retrieve data, specifically her; she was assigned to lead them through the now unfamiliar terrain that had commenced after the orbital bombardment of this insurrectionist held city to where the data was being stored when the ambush occurred, a crossfire in the street between two demolished buildings, with a clock tower barely standing on one side, holding most of the insurgents. It was unrecognizable to anyone who didn't have a map of the city downloaded into their brain and was able to tell via GPS what each building used to be. But that did not matter now.
Another barricade fixed. Another barricade fell. A vicious pattern that had been going on for the past few minutes, resulting in more wounded marines, less ammo, less welding fuel, and more panic among the marines. The synthetic stoically rushed to the fallen barricade, her tool at the ready.
:BARRICADE INTEGRITY: 10.3% 15.3 UNITS OF WELDING FUEL REQUIRED TO REPAIR TO FUNCTIONAL LEVELS:
:34.3 UNITS OF WELDING FUEL REMAINING IN TANK:
Her internal damage assessment system having done it's job in a fraction of a second, she began repairs. One of the marines, a Private First Class Johnson Hunter, slid into position next to her, taking aim at an insurgent in one of the buildings and letting off a few shots. His aim was off by at least two degrees to the right however, she noted. It was better than was anticipated, considering the circumstances. He was only mostly human, after all.
"Johnson, your prosthetic arm is working well. You almost hit that one." Sarah let off, both a comment on how well Private Hunter was adapting to his new arm, and a quip on his aim.
Looking over in a mix of shock and disgust, he replied, "We're pinned down and you're still a bitch! Should have left your iron ass on the ship, just repair those barricades an-" Suddenly, a bullet flew between the two, hitting Johnson in the leg, leaving a bloody mess. The private fell to the ground screaming in pain as he grabbed at his leg, and at the barricade, a human wearing a red bandanna with a padded coat remain, a MP27 SMG in his hand, grenades strapped across his chest, his face frozen in mid war cry, his aim at Private Hunter's head.
A blur of synthetic flesh; A swift grab from an uncaring hand; the assaulter's throat was in her grasp. Her arms, mechanically crafted to be stronger than any Olympic athlete could hope to achieve, lifted the insurgent off the ground, with just enough force to keep his trachea open. She needed him conscious. He screamed, a mix of fear and shock, yelling profanities at the synth in the odd dialect of french this colony spoke, before turned his gun at her head and fired. A lethal shot if she were human, but no. She was much more than that. Her head tilted to the side at the impact with a loud "PING!" only because she let it, for dramatic effect. Her complex mind had been working all this time, determining when would be the best time to strike, and this presented the highest chance of success; if the tide was to turn in their favor, now was the time. The enemy was too well entrenched, and the marines were too out in the open. This would be the moment to act, if she pulled it off perfectly.
In the struggle, his bandanna fell off, revealing his face, and she noticed he was younger than he looked initially; he could not have been older than eighteen. Another child most likely, dragged into this war by the founders of this insurgency. She stared him down with her mechanical eyes, noting the fighting had stopped, just as she expected.
"For some people, that would have hurt." She squeezed. The crack of bone could be heard across the now silent battlefield, the gun now dropped to the floor. "I'm not really a person, though."
A grab at his chest, and then a toss; the boy went flying, into the base of the clock tower, the battlefield silent for but a few moments, all sides stunned. Intimidation wasn't Sarah's strong point; engineering was.
The boy's grenades, their pins pulled before the toss, exploded. At just the right spot, the explosion managed to take out the last supporting beam holding the clock tower up, and it collapsed slowly, the screams of the men inside barely audible above the noise of the falling brick and stone, as it collapsed to block the street off. She noted her calculations were off, and the tower fell two meters from where she expected it to. She needed to have her arm checked for faults when she returned to base.
"Get up, we still have a job to do, and now we have to take a detour." She addressed the marines, as she knelt down to Hunter, grabbing some supplies from her bag; stop the bleeding, stop infection, those were always first. Pain came second, no matter how much he tried to squirm. The medic they had was busy enough anyways. "Grab the wounded and move; we will not have much time before they return. I'm only one woman, after all."
Several minutes later, the squad was walking down an alternate road to their destination, if not more alert than before. Johnson was limping, holding onto Sarah for support. He was in pain, but the mission came first, and he would live.
"Titanium-carbonate alloy, Private Hunter." She stated as a matter of factly,
"H-Huh?"
"My ass is made of a Titanium-carbonate alloy, not iron, as you stated. It is significantly more durable, yet lighter, providing me with greater mobility-"
"Are you serious right now?"
"I'm always serious. Don't call me Shirley."
Sarah could calculate the orbital trajectory of a shell fired from the surface of a planet against an asteroid a million kilometers away in the time it took most people to do basic arithmetic.
Bang, Whrrrrrr, Bang, :75.4% integrity:
She was fully capable of constructing a solar array on a star ship from scrap parts in a quarter of the time it would take a human to do it, with a quarter of the resources, and able to catch up to at least 43.35% more starlight.
Whrrrrrrrrrrrr. :82.6% integrity:
The synthetic could as easily calm a nuclear reactor mere moment from detonation into a state of safety as she could refurbish a room with wooden flooring.
Whrrrrrrrrrrr-:100% integrity restored:-ZZZIIIIIP!
And here she was, welding holes in standard issue USCM barricade, with a standard issue welding torch in an active war zone.
Sarah didn't feel upset at her wasted potential, far from it; she couldn't feel at all. Her digital mind was focused on keeping the few barricades used for cover from falling apart. The closest thing to panic that she experienced as a bullet whizzed over her head was mild concern that the bullet may have hit one of the wounded marines being treated behind her. They had been ordered to retrieve data, specifically her; she was assigned to lead them through the now unfamiliar terrain that had commenced after the orbital bombardment of this insurrectionist held city to where the data was being stored when the ambush occurred, a crossfire in the street between two demolished buildings, with a clock tower barely standing on one side, holding most of the insurgents. It was unrecognizable to anyone who didn't have a map of the city downloaded into their brain and was able to tell via GPS what each building used to be. But that did not matter now.
Another barricade fixed. Another barricade fell. A vicious pattern that had been going on for the past few minutes, resulting in more wounded marines, less ammo, less welding fuel, and more panic among the marines. The synthetic stoically rushed to the fallen barricade, her tool at the ready.
:BARRICADE INTEGRITY: 10.3% 15.3 UNITS OF WELDING FUEL REQUIRED TO REPAIR TO FUNCTIONAL LEVELS:
:34.3 UNITS OF WELDING FUEL REMAINING IN TANK:
Her internal damage assessment system having done it's job in a fraction of a second, she began repairs. One of the marines, a Private First Class Johnson Hunter, slid into position next to her, taking aim at an insurgent in one of the buildings and letting off a few shots. His aim was off by at least two degrees to the right however, she noted. It was better than was anticipated, considering the circumstances. He was only mostly human, after all.
"Johnson, your prosthetic arm is working well. You almost hit that one." Sarah let off, both a comment on how well Private Hunter was adapting to his new arm, and a quip on his aim.
Looking over in a mix of shock and disgust, he replied, "We're pinned down and you're still a bitch! Should have left your iron ass on the ship, just repair those barricades an-" Suddenly, a bullet flew between the two, hitting Johnson in the leg, leaving a bloody mess. The private fell to the ground screaming in pain as he grabbed at his leg, and at the barricade, a human wearing a red bandanna with a padded coat remain, a MP27 SMG in his hand, grenades strapped across his chest, his face frozen in mid war cry, his aim at Private Hunter's head.
A blur of synthetic flesh; A swift grab from an uncaring hand; the assaulter's throat was in her grasp. Her arms, mechanically crafted to be stronger than any Olympic athlete could hope to achieve, lifted the insurgent off the ground, with just enough force to keep his trachea open. She needed him conscious. He screamed, a mix of fear and shock, yelling profanities at the synth in the odd dialect of french this colony spoke, before turned his gun at her head and fired. A lethal shot if she were human, but no. She was much more than that. Her head tilted to the side at the impact with a loud "PING!" only because she let it, for dramatic effect. Her complex mind had been working all this time, determining when would be the best time to strike, and this presented the highest chance of success; if the tide was to turn in their favor, now was the time. The enemy was too well entrenched, and the marines were too out in the open. This would be the moment to act, if she pulled it off perfectly.
In the struggle, his bandanna fell off, revealing his face, and she noticed he was younger than he looked initially; he could not have been older than eighteen. Another child most likely, dragged into this war by the founders of this insurgency. She stared him down with her mechanical eyes, noting the fighting had stopped, just as she expected.
"For some people, that would have hurt." She squeezed. The crack of bone could be heard across the now silent battlefield, the gun now dropped to the floor. "I'm not really a person, though."
A grab at his chest, and then a toss; the boy went flying, into the base of the clock tower, the battlefield silent for but a few moments, all sides stunned. Intimidation wasn't Sarah's strong point; engineering was.
The boy's grenades, their pins pulled before the toss, exploded. At just the right spot, the explosion managed to take out the last supporting beam holding the clock tower up, and it collapsed slowly, the screams of the men inside barely audible above the noise of the falling brick and stone, as it collapsed to block the street off. She noted her calculations were off, and the tower fell two meters from where she expected it to. She needed to have her arm checked for faults when she returned to base.
"Get up, we still have a job to do, and now we have to take a detour." She addressed the marines, as she knelt down to Hunter, grabbing some supplies from her bag; stop the bleeding, stop infection, those were always first. Pain came second, no matter how much he tried to squirm. The medic they had was busy enough anyways. "Grab the wounded and move; we will not have much time before they return. I'm only one woman, after all."
Several minutes later, the squad was walking down an alternate road to their destination, if not more alert than before. Johnson was limping, holding onto Sarah for support. He was in pain, but the mission came first, and he would live.
"Titanium-carbonate alloy, Private Hunter." She stated as a matter of factly,
"H-Huh?"
"My ass is made of a Titanium-carbonate alloy, not iron, as you stated. It is significantly more durable, yet lighter, providing me with greater mobility-"
"Are you serious right now?"
"I'm always serious. Don't call me Shirley."
