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Description
hacker voice paste face is in
vasmortus

P R O F I L EName: Owen Fell
Age: 18 > 28
Gender: Male
Height: 5’7” — 170 cm
Weight: 150 lb — 68 kg

Speciality
Main: INDUSTRY
Secondary: COMBAT

Battle
3 STR 1 SPD 2 VIT 3 INT 1 LCK

Skill: dirty look [beginner]
He's good at...eyeballing things. Analytical skill mayhaps, it's more effective than the average caveman eye thanks to nanotech. Or stink eye someone hard enough that they'll exit themselves.

Personality:
eccentric distractible mild-mannered headstrong proud dry

Diluted in appearance and all, Owen's mostly off (or distracted, to put it professionally). Though serious in composure, his focus on people is watery at best. Not for a lack of trying or anything, this child is affectionate to the touch. Just, friendly approaches may be met with lack of commitment on his end,,,easily sidelined by his other interests lest you're bleeding out or something. When clocked in, he's simply one who does his job and does it well.

A self-willing individual, Owen tends to up and do whatever he wants without consultation. Stubborn and unorthodox to boot, he's the type to rip out his own IV or enter rooms through windows. Not reckless per se, he does prove capable of prudent thought but social norms and self-care are of sub primacy. It's quite possible to get his cooperation with things but he needs a stern ahem to command his attention.

Background:
Raised under ambitious, political hands, his thoughts were frequently directed at world-wide matters. With a mother developing nukes for military and a father wrestling diplomacy in government, he's quite sober to the reality of soured treaties and nuclear warfare. At a point of age inconsequential in the world, Owen only took in ill-omened news for digest. And bided his time to become relevant.

Down the timeline, his mother suffered occupational hazards. Noticed too late, she fled her radiated body via clone tech as last resort. Owen rejected the clone and her "flashdrive soul", brewing sentiments against humanity and technology welding so closely. Aged later, Owen began to suffer the pervasive rot in his frontal brain. Even so, he (stubborn) wanted to die in flesh, thus nosed up at most prosthetic treatments. Fell-Dad managed to tussle some bare necessities into his head, though the rot still crept—albeit slowly.

No son of Fell is ever inconsequential, brain damaged or not. It's the upper crust way. Onwards to Nielsen Military Academy, where Lane unfolded the tales of a bleak future. Owen can't deny that he cares, even with the lifespan nerf. Holding no delusions about grandeur and heroism, he's here to stay.

Additional Information:
- Steel parts are mobbed around his visual pathway for easy brain access
- Only blinks one eye
- Other eye patiently collects dust until he alcohol wipes it (if ever
- Sleepwalks; composting motor functions don't snooze very well
- Easily attaches to inanimate objects
- Programs in his own language

Description
hacker voice paste face is in
vasmortus

P R O F I L EName: Owen Fell
Age: 18 > 28
Gender: Male
Height: 5’7” — 170 cm
Weight: 150 lb — 68 kg

Speciality
Main: INDUSTRY
Secondary: COMBAT

Battle
3 STR 1 SPD 2 VIT 3 INT 1 LCK

Skill: dirty look [beginner]
He's good at...eyeballing things. Analytical skill mayhaps, it's more effective than the average caveman eye thanks to nanotech. Or stink eye someone hard enough that they'll exit themselves.

Personality:
eccentric distractible mild-mannered headstrong proud dry

Diluted in appearance and all, Owen's mostly off (or distracted, to put it professionally). Though serious in composure, his focus on people is watery at best. Not for a lack of trying or anything, this child is affectionate to the touch. Just, friendly approaches may be met with lack of commitment on his end,,,easily sidelined by his other interests lest you're bleeding out or something. When clocked in, he's simply one who does his job and does it well.

A self-willing individual, Owen tends to up and do whatever he wants without consultation. Stubborn and unorthodox to boot, he's the type to rip out his own IV or enter rooms through windows. Not reckless per se, he does prove capable of prudent thought but social norms and self-care are of sub primacy. It's quite possible to get his cooperation with things but he needs a stern ahem to command his attention.

Background:
Raised under ambitious, political hands, his thoughts were frequently directed at world-wide matters. With a mother developing nukes for military and a father wrestling diplomacy in government, he's quite sober to the reality of soured treaties and nuclear warfare. At a point of age inconsequential in the world, Owen only took in ill-omened news for digest. And bided his time to become relevant.

Down the timeline, his mother suffered occupational hazards. Noticed too late, she fled her radiated body via clone tech as last resort. Owen rejected the clone and her "flashdrive soul", brewing sentiments against humanity and technology welding so closely. Aged later, Owen began to suffer the pervasive rot in his frontal brain. Even so, he (stubborn) wanted to die in flesh, thus nosed up at most prosthetic treatments. Fell-Dad managed to tussle some bare necessities into his head, though the rot still crept—albeit slowly.

No son of Fell is ever inconsequential, brain damaged or not. It's the upper crust way. Onwards to Nielsen Military Academy, where Lane unfolded the tales of a bleak future. Owen can't deny that he cares, even with the lifespan nerf. Holding no delusions about grandeur and heroism, he's here to stay.

Additional Information:
- Steel parts are mobbed around his visual pathway for easy brain access
- Only blinks one eye
- Other eye patiently collects dust until he alcohol wipes it (if ever
- Sleepwalks; composting motor functions don't snooze very well
- Easily attaches to inanimate objects
- Programs in his own language