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What the fuck is this?
Eh, this is a character biography from the only role-play I've ever participated in. I figured it was not totally poorly written (for a role-play bio, anyhow), so it's here, now. Hooray, an embarassing segment of my prior online "life".
Personal log, Commissioner Gordon, Artificial Construct, April 25, 5024
I dont know why I keep making these entries. Im not real. I dont know why I even call myself I. I was created for the sole purpose, of, well, basic problem solving really. That, and to act as Commissioner to an elite police force. That was the original idea anyway. Didnt really work out. Beauracracy reared its ugly head. Sigh.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Police Force. The original idea was for an artificial construct to act as an impartial front for a group of human officers; to cut down the incidence of hot-headedness or something like that. It was a good idea to begin with, even if it was based on the idea that human behaviour was predictable.
I was originally assigned to a group of twelve young officers; I acted as their commander for the duration. A job I excelled at. But, as fate is wont to do, up came the civil war and everything went down the pan. In short, the police force was basically disbanded, anarchy took reign over the militia and the so-called law-enforcement groups. And ... well, all hell broke loose.
I managed to survive the civil war by hiding my programming in an old computer matrix, part of some taxation system from the late 21st century. As a result I managed to survive, AND learn how to manage commerce for an enterprising communications company.
After the war cooled off, more or less, the police force and the militia re-formed. Sort of, long story, which isnt relevant. So, moving on..
The new police force was much more politically correct. A kind of conscious effort by the new and improved Earth government to cut down the hostilities with some of the less then friendly alien races, basically, this was to be achieved by allowing them to enter into our police forces in the interests of cooperation. It was a bad idea then, its a bad idea now. But who am I to argue? I am just an obsolete cyber-construct.
I was assigned to a group of mixed race officers; one half couldnt stand the other half. And those that got along with each other only did so if it gave them an advantage.. or a chance at promotion. It was barrels of fun.
Having been assigned to track down and apprehend a Zarkonian renegade who felt the need to hijack a complete shipment of deuterium bound for Alkatha, we wound up in a rather fierce battle I could have lived without. The ultimate result of which was the three surviving officers and myself being stranded on a non too friendly moon for a good two decades while we fandangled a new way of firing the engines on a shuttle and getting the hell out. Yet another highlight of my so-called life. (And I say that in all honesty, Im not alive. Im artificial . Debates rage, Im still on the losing team).
Compounding insult with the worst of the injuries, the twenty years isolated from Earths mainframe bureau database resulted in considerable degradation to my programming. I lost a great deal of basic knowledge, my little world collapsed around me. Bring back the barrel, weve caught the monkey. They managed to repair my programming, more or less. An interesting fruit of this experience however was an increased self-awareness. The experts arent exactly sure what caused it, their best guess is some kind of hybrid program anomaly between my knowledge and personality databases. Its the only thing so far that I cant count as a bad experience. Seems thanks to this little aberration, I can no longer log into the Bureau Database as efficiently as I once could. Which means my programming isnt reverted to the carbon copy its traditionally programmed to revert to every time one connects to it. Essentially, it allows me to grow as a person. Or so my shrink told me.
An artificial construct with a psychiatrist? What will they think of next?
Would you believe Im back doing my old job now? Well I am. Im now assigned to a genuine elite team of TAF assigned Police Officers along with a side-group of six Zarkonian brutes and the same mount of Jodiath analysts. Its a fairly efficient system, quite a good balance of brains and brawn. If only I could convince the Zarkonians that they actually do have a brain attached to all that brawn. Sigh.
Enough of my pitiful rambling. I dont know why I write this anyway. Its not like anyone would be interested to read the memoirs of a cybernetic being. On second thoughts, I know of humans with less substance. Just dont tell them I said that.
End personal log entry, Commissioner Gordon, Artificial Construct.
...
Addendum:
Biographical details.
Technical: Designation - Unit 67C; Carbon-Holographic Organic Personnel (C.O.P) unit. Weight - 344kg (deactivated); variable. Height - 6' 2" (including external holographic matrices, standard).
Details: HoloOrganic being. Part mechanical, part holographic. "Thought" processes handled by a pseudo-neuron system, augmented by actual human neurons grafted into the physical cerebral systems. Body is constructed of metal alloys, metatanium hybrids and various polymers. Hydraulic limb systems and micro-servo systems equipped throughout, capable of accurate approximation of human movement. Added counterwights account for the weightlessness of the holographic head area, and other holographic extensions. External plating can be removed for service.
Personal: Name - Zumner, Gordon. Facial appearance - Features the visage of a 50-year old human male, origin of the image is unknown.
History: Gordon was originally assigned as Commissioner of Police, for several precints of space near the Earth sector. Note the following excerpt from Zumner's personal log:
"I was originally assigned to a group of twelve young officers; I acted as their commander for the duration. A job I excelled at. But, as fate is wont to do, up came the civil war and everything went down the pan. In short, the police force was basically disbanded, anarchy took reign over the militia and the so-called law-enforcement groups. And ... well, all hell broke loose."
... con't ...
"Having been assigned to track down and apprehend a Zarkonian renegade who felt the need to hijack a complete shipment of deuterium bound for Alkatha, we wound up in a rather fierce battle I could have lived without. The ultimate result of which was the three surviving officers and myself being stranded on a non too friendly moon for a good two decades while we fandangled a new way of firing the engines on a shuttle and getting the hell out. Yet another highlight of my so-called life. (And I say that in all honesty, Im not alive. Im artificial . Debates rage, Im still on the losing team).
Compounding insult with the worst of the injuries, the twenty years isolated from Earths mainframe bureau database resulted in considerable degradation to my programming. I lost a great deal of basic knowledge, my little world collapsed around me. Bring back the barrel, weve caught the monkey. They managed to repair my programming, more or less. An interesting fruit of this experience however was an increased self-awareness. The experts arent exactly sure what caused it, their best guess is some kind of hybrid program anomaly between my knowledge and personality databases. Its the only thing so far that I cant count as a bad experience. Seems thanks to this little aberration, I can no longer log into the Bureau Database as efficiently as I once could. Which means my programming isnt reverted to the carbon copy its traditionally programmed to revert to every time one connects to it. Essentially, it allows me to grow as a person. Or so my shrink told me."
Gordon was later assigned to a group of junior officers, mostly human and Zarkonian, a relationship which lasted several years. Shortly thereafter, members of his team noticed erratic behaviour in the Commissioner, uneasiness, unpredictability, loss of temper, insubordinance. Ultimately this lead to the disappearance of both Commissioner Gordon Zumner, and the police vessel, P.C.S. Augustine. A note was discovered aboard the sister shuttle, Jeremiah, simply reading "I have a life."
End biographical detail.
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