Ehehehehe - you've read my mind. I like to keep things such as potential character arcs, development and plots in mind when I'm creating one. I also like to torture them with emotions and hard decisions, so that should be fun too. XD Now, how to go about on my second character?...
I'm considering the fallout of a Chief of Security not so great with boundaries around a guarded, PTSD'd, touch telepath CO.
Race Beta-Cephanian The Cephanians are an aquatic humanoid species from the planet Cepha, that have evolved into two distinct groups; Alpha-Cephanians, a hard shelled, crab-like humanoid species, and Beta-Cephanians, their subjugated fish-like cousins. Hailing from a completely submerged planet, all Beta-Cephanians have mucous-producing skin, gills, webbed fingers, and other characteristics suited to an aquatic environment, while their crustacean cousins have a thick exoskeleton, mandibles over their mouths, and antannae capable of sensing movement.
Whereas Alpha-Cephanians are usually boisterous and warlike, Beta-Cephanians are a quiet, private people known for their humorlessness and brevity, which are results of their neural biology and selective breeding than of a culture. Despite being a warp-capable civilization, Cephanians have a very primal culture with little room for sentimentality -- Elderly or injured Beta-Cephanians are usually devoured to support their colony's sustenance, for example, whereas Alpha-Cephanians frequently murder one another over perceived slights.
Appearance Most say Beta-Cephanians all look alike. As the only differentiation between male and female Beta-Cephanians are that one is blueish purple and the other is purplish blue, this is not entirely without merit. Though Commander Poxx has dark blue stripes lining most of his body, this is hidden by his uniform, leaving the rank-denoting stripes on his sleeve the only face-value distinction between himself and any other Cephanian, though his pink ear-frills are said to be somewhat long. Though not especially short or tall, Commander Poxx's Cephanian biology leaves him with very little fat, giving him a somewhat muscular physique.
Personality Commander Poxx's mannerisms and personality are fairly standard for a Beta-Cephanian. He keeps most interactions as brief as possible, spends most of his time off alone in his quarters, and has little patience for galas and ceremonies. Other than his work, Commander Poxx has three hobbies; swimming, underwater horticulture, and martial arts, the latter of which earns him a spot on most away teams. As his homeworld's culture is extremely different than human culture, Poxx is one of the aliens aboard the Orion that experiences a great deal of culture shock. Hot beverages, for example, are a subject surrounded by mystery to Commander Poxx, as well as things like art or humor. Human customs (Such as subtlety and emotional perception) are frequently lost to the Cephanian, who frequently seeks advice from other nonhuman members of the ship.
History Xiril Poxx was hatched on Cepha, spending his youth absorbing the culture and knowledge of his people while working on one of his planet's many algae farms. His father, Luril Poxx, eventually bought his family's freedom from their master during Xiril's childhood, and went on to work as a Medical Officer for the USS Tyson, which fostered Xiril's interest in joining Starfleet from a young age. Xiril went on to join Starfleet Academy when he became old enough and was put onto an expedited path to becoming an ensign aboard the USS Highlander, after graduating second in his class. Though originally eager to become a medical officer like his father, Xiril switched divisons after his second year, and has proudly worn Tactical Red ever since. After serving aboard the USS Highlander for several years, Commander Poxx was recently transferred to the USS Orion, where he now serves as Helmsman.
Skills Though he comes off as cold, Commander Poxx's lack of emotion help him remain calm under pressure and make logic-based, split second decisions other officers would struggle with. The Cephanian brain -- particularly that of a Beta-Cephanian -- has far fewer receptors for emotion than a human, and more for memory and problem solving; By human standards, Poxx would be considered a genius.
As a Cephanian, Commander Poxx can use sonar to maneuver in complete darkness, and stun most humanoids. His youth spent underwater has given him a heightened perception of his position in three-dimensional space, which he uses to his advantage when performing tactical maneuvers.
Cepha is a large planet near the edge of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, which is a member of the United Federation of Planets. It has a dense core half the size of Earth's, which is hidden beneath thousands of miles of saltwater in all directions -- The planet has no dry land, though its surface is covered in its entirety with a layer of algae about a mile thick, which is farmed by Beta-Cephanians as a power source. It is the second planet in its solar system, and is kept together by its unusually high gravity, and warm by means of its thick, cloudy atmosphere. It is orbited by a relatively lifeless microplanet, which is in turn orbited by an asteroid. Other than that, there is little of note about the Cephanian homeworld; It is considered somewhat primitive and isolated as Federation planets go, and engages in very little trade.
The dominant species of Cepha are the Alpha-Cephanians, a crustacean-like race of humanoids evolved from ancient Cepha's apex predator. Culturally, the Alpha-Cephanian is not dissimilar from a Klingon; Though they live to be 200 years old, their average lifespans are about one hundred years due to widespread honor killings and duels. Alpha-Cephanians are an extremely proud race, and as such are too involved with convoluted feuds and tribal arguments to be greatly involved in the affairs of their intergalactic neighbors.
Most people have not heard of Cephanians -- They are mentioned in Federation training as one of the nine completely aquatic spacefaring races -- and as such, few are aware of the distinction between Alpha and Beta Cephanians. As such, those from Cepha are usually regarded to in a myriad of different terms; Red and Blue Cephanians, High and Low Cephanians, and Great and Common Cephanians are all terms they have begrudgingly accepted. Both races refer to themselves simply as "Cephanian" while using the Alpha and Beta labels for the other race.
An entirely separate species, Beta-Cephanians are a fishlike humanoid species capable of using sonar to traverse water too deep for light to reach, or too thick with algae to see. Subjugated by Alpha-Cephanians during "The Great Cephanian War", a civil war between the two races thousands of years ago, Beta-Cephanians have been the planet's workforce and backbone for generations. Cepha's technology is almost entirely powered by their algae, though it is fairly inefficient as fuels go, and is farmed by millions of their Beta-Cephanian thralls.
As a slave society, Beta-Cephanians have a great cultural belief in destiny, and coexist with Alpha-Cephanians with surprisingly little animosity; After several thousand years of enslavement, Beta-Cephanians have more or less accepted their position as unavoidable fate, which coupled with their being bred for passivity by Alpha-Cephanians, has led to a society with almost zero rebellions.
Whereas Alpha-Cephanians are free to choose their careers, specific Beta-Cephanians are born for specific roles. Some are farmers of the algae that powers their planet's technology, others are concubines and servants of Alpha-Cephanians, others still are born for clerical work, and a select few are born for little else than fueling their kin during food shortages; Some speculate it is due to the lack of breastfeeding in Cephanian biology that they do not form especially close bonds with their parents and are generally void of emotion.
The language spoken on Cepha is Korqyk, more commonly referred to simply as Cephanian, a language nearly indecipherable by the universal translator due to its subtle uses of emphasized bubble blowing and sonar as vowels. As it can only be spoken underwater, it is also impossible to be spoken by non-Cephanians.
"Inhale red, exhale blue."
Commander Poxx stood with his back completely straight, with a fist on either hip and his legs spread far apart. The horse stance, the recording had called it. The voice speaking to him was a soft woman's voice, resonating with an almost maternal timbre. He had spent the morning in his room -- as he often would -- practicing tai chi. It relaxed him, and for an outdated human practice, that was fairly surprising. In lieu of his usual black and yellow uniform, he wore a simple white gi.
The lights in Poxx's room were dim, set to a deep blue color that made it seem like he was at the bottom of the ocean. Enhancing the effect, the vents in his room were currently on aromatherapy mode, a setting that had been tweaked and perfected by one of the engineering ensigns eager to impress the First Officer.
Poxx took a step forward, bringing his hands with him as if he were scooping up a bucket. Poxx didn't remember what the recording called the movement, but he managed to remember the movements themselves, which he felt was enough. He inhaled deeply, raising his arms. His room smelled like the sea after a storm. Poxx took a step to the side and exhaled, bringing his arms close to his chest in a circular motion, making a mental note to thank the engineering ensign he had remembered moments earlier.
"Focus on your breathing. Let go of your stress."
The voice cooed to him over softer, almost inaudible recordings of undersea noises. Though Poxx was able to remain level-headed, stress was usually his only problem on the bridge. He exhaled again, feeling his limbs loosen. At least I no longer have to worry about superiors, Poxx thought to himself. Perhaps, with a race that had evolved from a prey species, stress is simply instinctual for me.
Poxx took another step back, dropping into the horse stance position before stretching his back. After a few moments of stretching, he reclined into his normal stance, and cleared his throat.
"End session."
The sounds of the ocean began to fade, and the dim blue lights began to shift to their regular white. Poxx rolled his neck to the side with an audible crack, and began to disrobe. He examined himself in a small mirror by his bedside for a moment. He was as blue and fishy as ever, and his scales showed no signs of molting, which was always good. He quickly put on his uniform that lay folded at the foot of his bed, flattening out any creases or wrinkles by hand.
When he finished dressing, he straightened his posture and attached a small metal device to his neck, covering his gills. The atmosphere in his room was kept wet enough to breathe comfortably without the device, though he would often have trouble without it on the ships air-conditioned turbolift.
He left his room, lumbering with his usual powerwalk he had honed over years to make himself appear hurried and ensure ensigns and cadets would leave him alone as often as possible. Sure enough, this would not be the case today.
"Good morning, Commander Poxx. Was the ventilation to your liking?" It was the engineering ensign he had thought about. Poxx looked at him for a moment, pausing to wonder if the ensign truly ran into him, or if he had been staking out by his quarters in hopes of being praised.
"Yes. I will be speaking to your Commanding Officer about my assessment of your alterations, though I believe he will find them satisfactory as well." He blinked, squeezing his sideways lenses together as he stared at the young man. "Will that be all, ensign?"
He shook his head. "Yes, thank you Commander. If there's an-"
"Excellent." Poxx turned his head and continued his march to the turbolift. He was thankful for the ensign's handiwork, but he had little time to stand by and congratulate him for it. Today would be a busy day, after all. The Orion would pick up Ambassador Spock shortly, and Commander Poxx would be standing to the captain's side when it happened. Poxx stepped into the turbolift, pressing a small blue button.
Made some more edits. All good before he's put in the Character Tab?
After around three rewrites I present Henry Rolls.
Name: Henry Rolls Age: 65 Rank/Position: Commander, Communications Officer Race: Human Appearance:
Personality: Henry's been a kind and confident man since he joined Starfleet, it was his sole purpose to do what he wanted; help. It's why he's on the Orion after all; he's an old man whose kindness is evident quickly and hatred of transporters is absolute, he isn't a man you'd imagine holding a phaser let alone attack someone and the idea of being deconstructed and then reconstructed petrifies Haiden so he's useless for away missions. The chance to see peace between the Romulans and the Federation would be such a momentous occasion that it might actually cure him of his mental condition which could be described as old world blues if it was to be described as anything... the war and the Borg have driven Henry towards archaeology and to the holodeck's technologies just to experience a slightly more peaceful past then what everyone else is experiencing.
History: This bumbling old commander was born and raised as a Hebridean local for around ten years in a reasonably pleasant lighthouse by his parents who worked for the local weather backup until it malfunctioned with disastrous consequences; one orphaned Henry and forty people dead. After the horrific accident the orphan was sent to his uncle who served as the communications officer on the USS Swann. The uncle and nephew lived aboard USS Swann until Harry decided to formally join Starfleet with half his life of experience and a recommendation from his uncle. When the Hood arrived back at Earth Henry first learnt of the transporter and how it works which led him and his uncle to use a shuttle which gave time for Henry to learn a little more about his only other means of vehicular transportation.
With his prior experience from the USS Swann Henry graduated as expected and he was offered multiple places throughout his entire career from working on Utopia Planitia as traffic control to listening post encryption, two of the most significant events occurred near Henry when he was working in Earth's orbit as a coordinator of shuttle traffic control during both the aftermath of wolf 359 and the battle of sector 001 where he and his colleagues were left in a barely functional platform to watch and listen to the screams of the dying and get Borg remains lodged in the hull. After the the battle of sector 001 the ageing commander was reassigned to the Orion to try and give him one last voyage before Henry retires. Skills: Henry's spent a long time dealing with different forms of communication and instructing people so he is well suited to the nuances of the career. He does also know how to pilot many of the shuttles the Federation utilizes because of his complete faith in them even with his vision going a little. He does know a reasonable amount about repairing multiple communication devices however the repair work doesn't always work. Other: Henry should be a lieutenant commander however a clerical error has made him a commander and no one's bothered to fix it, he is retiring after the Orion after all.
Sample Post: "You've ruined it Hal, utterly ruined it." was the first sentence stated in the small medical bay of the outpost, it's general clutter might as well declare dominance over the room and evict the stressed surgeon considering it's quantity. "What have I ruined Greg?" the elderly visitor questions as he struggles to maneuver around the desk and see Greg. "You've ruined my entire schedule with your little reassignment... I have to send your medical files along to the Orion and attend the going party. It must be the universe conspiring against the prospect of me owning a clean desk." Greg jokes before he waves his arm and a box filled with medical tools to the floor.
"Had these shipments of medical supplies a month ago and no one's come for them... Any chance you could take a few boxes aboard the Orion?" that statement rolls towards Henry as he picks up the box from the floor and a thud resolves the mystery of where the box went.
"I think I could manage it for say... two bottles of that bloodwine you swindled from that Andorian last Wednesday, I think the Orion's second officer's a Klingon." "Done, that stuff is an incredible sedative, sent the last patient out cold with just the taster." With the negotiation done and the bottles exchanged the two friends walk off with four boxes of medical equipment from the cluttered bay as well as two bottles of blood wine.
Alright. You're good since that's not a contested position.
I'm also thinking of making a Gorn security officer. I like Gorn. Gorn are good :p
I don't know how I feel about this one. Gorn are not a part of Starfleet for one. Nor have they entered into any sort of agreement with the Federation. Perhaps if you come up with a reason that satisfies not only must but both my Co-GMs you can.