"A man must have a code."Standing at 5’6, Sam is a heavyset and languid looking man, with unkempt black hair and an iron stubble hiding old scars. The gravity of too many worries had tugged prematurely on his features, imparting a care-worn look that belied his razor-sharp determination to see things through. The Turk consistently keeps an idle, somber expression, with his gaze lazily drifting about. Some people have an impression of him as an unattentive sluggard -- something which couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Cyberware: Over the years of his service in NCPD, Samet has become nigh obsessed with spending his own money on under-the-table body modifications to go above and beyond his duty. Most of these are minor, cheap devices that are nevertheless quite useful when investigating crimes. Though he is fond of these upgrades, he doesn’t forget about the possibility of cyberpsychosis and its’ dire consequences. The day they ask him to register and attend cybertherapy will be the day he puts a bullet in his head.
- Fashionware
- A cheap subdermal biomon of Taiwanese origin that also functions as a timepiece. Out of solely mischievous concerns he has learned the numbers in Mandarin and perceives time in the language. This sometimes proves as useful as it is confusing.
- Neuralware
- Neuralware Processor, regular NCPD-issue.
- Olifactory Boost, a handy boon when you are a police detective prowling the city streets and need to track down a smelly psycho borg.
- Neural ULF Transceiver that allows Sam to receive and transmit voice-messages and small volumes of data over a range of 15 km. Regularly glitches, no matter how much the ripperdocs tinker over it. Nevertheless, he makes use of the device.
- Implants
- Nasal Filter.
- Subdermal pocket just below his armpit, used for storing things one would want to hide from the crooks of Night City’s underbelly. Especially if you’re a cop.
- Cyberoptics
- Low-end basic module he haggled from a Russian seller. Absolutely useless for more expensive visual options, so he crammed it chock full of minor but crafty things.
- Microoptics for zooming in and inspecting evidence and whatnot. The software isn’t meshing well with his outdated cybermodule patch, so he uses it sparingly.
- LowLite Sensors to see in dimly lit areas.
- Digital Camera, shoots up to twenty images. Compatible with the Neural ULF Transceiver, but takes up a hefty amount of space in the module, eating up much of the processing power.
- Cyberaudio
- Voice Stress Analyzer - by default something a police detective needs when interrogating a suspect. The wiring is a tad shoddy and it annoys Sam to no end when he hears the device analyzing his own voice.
Weapons: Armour: Usually clad in a hard, dark synth leather coat, he’s one of the few cops to sacrifice protection for mobility and the inconspicuous guise of a bar regular and street vagrant. His leather belt pouch contains a multitude of pocket credit transfer devices and chips, zip ties, fake passcards and cell handles, utility tools to unscrew and disassemble devices and low-level security installations on the go.
For matters of particular importance, he requests a full surveillance kit of digicameras, mikes and tracers from the NCPD technical arsenal. Key word here is request, because management doesn’t always back him up on his investigatory ventures. When he has to go on a risky mission, he wears a ballistic vest underneath the leather coat.
Background: Born in the Boston-Atlantic Metropolitan Axis to a family of Turkish refugees, Samed has had a rather unremarkable upbringing, save for the fact that nothing happening at the time could be called unremarkable.
Insane technological advances and innovations brought about speedy, almost unhealthy changes society couldn’t keep up with. It was no wonder that crime skyrocketed when cyberware-regulating legislature was still being drafted and fought over in Congress, whilst the city streets were already awash with implants, weaponized by crime gangs both old and new.
Karga’s father was a patrol officer killed by some crook when he was off-duty. This loss had a profound effect on Samet’s choice of profession, and having dropped out of the medical school, he went to the police academy instead.
The next five years were a blur of high paced chases, interrogations, court proceedings and paperwork. Toward the end of his second year it began to be mostly paperwork. The BAPAPD was already a gargantuan bureaucratic body by the time the crime picked up, but with the weight of all the cases coming in daily, Samet found himself slogging through thousands of papers and files, too caught up in inter-department politics and rivalry to be able to do efficient, real police work. He purposefully decided not to go for a promotion, figuring he was more useful on the street than at a desk-job.
When Sam’s modus operandi got him into a conflict with the higher-ups, he transferred to Night City’s PsychoSquad detail patrolling the rim of no-go zones at night. His new line of work changed his view on law, and his role as a policeman as a whole. He realized he was living through a vicious cycle, and the machines they hunted had seemingly a never-ending supply of weapons they weren’t supposed to have. It was a dead end.
With his suspicions aroused after a particularly tense standoff with the borgs, he took a ‘demotion’ and once more began detective work, but now with the plan of weeding out the person responsible for arming the criminal underbelly. Regular, run-of-the-mill crimes were now disregarded by him, and the new territory he was operating in allowed Sam to blend in as much as he could. Even though he's still getting a paycheck for regular patrol work, he is essentially undercover.
