[table][row][cell][color=Gainsboro] [hr][h2][color=#0080ff]Chef[/color][/h2][hr] [color=ff3838][sub][b]History[/b][/sub][/color] [justify] Like so many [abbr=Term for former citizens of the sol federation who migrated to the Jovian Commonwealth]exsols[/abbr] born in this day and age, Rol's story, or rather his parents, began within the towering, convulsing [abbr=Strata-communes are massive arcological structures housing thousands of inhabitants within dense, steel reinforced walls. Many of them are owned or funded by various residential corporations] strata-communes [/abbr] of Schiaparelli Crater, an arcology tracing its history from Australian and Indonesian colonists that had arrived in the first [abbr=A migratory trend of earth-to-mars immigration that occured in the mid 21st century] red waves [/abbr] of 2050. His father, Bo Emberg, was the breadwinner, grinding long and dangerous hours, whilst his mother, Ahn Emsberg , worked as an associate algae farmer at the ponic fields. Life in Schiaparelli Crater was difficult, based on the few anecdotes that his mother told him. The rate of emigration between Earth and Mars was increasing exponentially as conditions on Earth declined. Unfortunately, the rate of terraforming projects and arcology construction was unable to keep up with the demand, resulting in dozens of ramshackle [abbr= Pop habs are a form of survival technology which were originally intended to serve as temporary, instantaneous shelter to colonists outside of their arcologies. It has now been repurposed by homeless vagrants to avoid paying rent in the high cost arcologies of Mars] pop habs [/abbr]bordering Martian townships. Populist beliefs of secessionism and separatism were beginning to grow popular again after the Jovian Secession in 2127. In spite of all that, his mother and father afforded a decent life with their combined paychecks. Whilst Bo, a staunch fed nationalist, was content with living life on Mars, Anh saw the stars as the future for their family, fascinated by the adverts of offworld life and prosperity in Jovian [abbr=Slang for tabloid newspapers or media that is considered populist and sensational dreck] propo-mags [/abbr] and wild tales about colonist paradise and freedom on the edge of the Sol Federation from her strata neighbours. It was nothing more than a wild dream and a dream without a catalyst is just a mirage. Had nothing happened, Rol would have grown up a perfectly happy citizen of the Sol Federation. Unfortunately, it took one day for his parent's life to come tumbling down. Decades of lax maintenance and refusals by the local strata council to refurbish and renew a last gen helium-3 reactor facility where Rol's father worked at led to a fatal leakage of radioactive [abbr=Helium-3 reactors became the mainstay of power generation across the Sol Federation and Jovian Commonwealth due to their relative efficiency and lack of waste generation. Tritium-3, compared to fissioning radioactive material, has a short half life of 10 years. However, it is still highly dangerous should reactor operators not abide by regulations] tritium-3 [/abbr]waste. Approximately three quarters of Schiaparelli Crater was rendered uninhabitable for five years by the incident. To make matters worst, Rol's father was one of the few that had been exposed to the worst of the radioactive fallout. With bioengineering too expensive for them to purchase and medical bills slowly racking up, Bo's fervent nationalistic pride in the Sol Federation was long gone and with another child in the way in the form of Rol, any chance of a peaceful life in the Sol Federation was long gone. He agreed to his wife's urgings to move to the Jovian Commonwealth where they perhaps had a chance of enrolling corporate health insurance that could pay for his bills. Using what remained of his savings, Bo used what contacts he had to purchase an colony bond under Klooseward Inc, a small to medium sized agro-corp that was making waves on Ganymede. It was with one small catch, though, one that Anh only found out at the immigration terminal as oil-slicked rain drowned the black tarmac around them on the spaceport strip. He'd only had enough money for one ticket. So, it was onboard a damp and crammed [abbr=Walden grade cruisers are industrial grade cruisers used by the Sol Federation for general mass transportation of cargo between neighbouring planets.] Walden-class [/abbr] shuttle cruiser where Rol's first breath were taken. Upon landing on Ganymede, a quick [abbr=A form of tech used by the Jovian Commonwealth where information is rapidly encoded onto a subject's genetic code using a dermal laser imprinter. Simplistic information such as blood type, civilian ID, licensure and other low-volume information can be encoded onto the subject's DNA] geneburn [/abbr] and oath ceremony made him an official citizen of the Jovian Commonwealth. The next day, Anh Emberg with Rol swaddled up in a blanket was ushered into a commmunal bunkroom by a Klooseward HR agent and told to attend work orientation in the evening. In a matter of 24 hours, his mother got placed in the role of an administrative agronomist whilst Rol would be nursed in a corporate trade school, subsidised by Klooseward, on learning how to become a colony hand. Compared to most kids his age, Rol learnt more practical subjects that were geared towards transforming him into a child labourer such as how to don an EVA suit in low oxygen environments, how to grow gene-modded spirulina in a bioreactor, how to weld a titanium quarry strut in a pinch and operating a autolifter. When Rol turned ten, he began helping his mother in the agronomical needs of the growing colony. As an [abbr=Agro-techs are the workhorses of any successful colonists, being responsible for maintaining all agricultural technologies and infrastructure that supply the colony with food. It is unsurprising that agro-techs are also horrendously underpaid] agro-tech [/abbr], life was grueling as he worked from dawn to dusk, refiltering algae tanks, seeding rows of ponic fields and welding structural hab beams with little to no adult supervision. The work was so taxing that fresh blisters would erupt on his skin on a daily basis and welts would sprout where his oversized EVA suit rubbed uncomfortably against his skin. Throughout this gruel punishment, Rol and his mother kept each other company by sharing in their love of cooking as they spent countless evenings skimming off substandard produce and organic ingredients from their colony's harvest to cook for one another in the evening, sometimes cooking meals for their . When Rol asked his mother one day why they didn't hoard the food for themselves or sell it on the market, his mother simply replied by silently pointing her ladle at the crowds of workers happily talking and eating with one another and said " You can't buy this moment with heliodollars.". At the age of 20, Rol's efforts eventually led to him becoming the team leader of a 100 man strong colony team where his job changed from maintaining and refurbishing current colony activities to establishing a new colony site on the equator of Ganymede. The effort would involve six years of constant terraforming and construction in a remote, barren ice filled wasteland. Though it would mean seperation from his mother, the opportunity and chance to prove himself in the eyes of his employers did excite him. Rol earned a reputation amongst the agro-colonists of Klooseward as a decent leader who was unpretentious about the rigors and reality of the work they were engaged in. To the consternation of his supervisor and manager, Rol ensured that the life and safety of his subordinates were of the utmost security. His concern for his coworkers was so paramount that he lost his left eye in a space debris shower whilst protecting one of his workers during routine EVA activity. Whilst the work was slow and , the sites managed to pass the regulatory inspections of the Jovian Commonwealth. Life was harsh but consistently so at his colony and for a while, Rol was satisfied. However, just like his father before him, disaster struck on 2168 when Klooseward Inc was acquired by Gali Agrodynamics, a planetary agricultural conglomerate owning nearly 65% of all agricultural production in the Jovian System. The primary reason for this was the emergence of the Bloc Crisis, the cold war between the two superpower polities decreasing the stock valuation for Klooseward Inc which relied heavily on partnerships with vendors based in the Sol Federation. Upon the day of the acquisition, Gali Agrodynamics announced they would be laying off roughly 75% of their workforce to reconsolidate Klooseward's assets and 'reinvest in autoamted technology in a bloated sector'. Rol's team unfortunately were unlucky as they were one of many who were fired. As they watched years of their hard work being scrapped and systematically repossesed by Gali Agrodynamics transition officers, Rol pondered his next move and upon discussing with his mother a risky idea. With the funds they had accumulated and with the help of a variable rate loan negotiated with the Jovian Corporate Bank, Rol decided to recruit his former coworkers as staff in a new farm to table eatery serving Jovian and Martian fusion cuisine. The first few months were good but finances began to go into the red as operational and regulatory costs ramped up. Without his mother's knowledge, Rol made a deal with local Ganymedean trafficking operations to use his restaurant as both a money laundering and fencing operation. Although he despised the business altogether and tried to keep it out of sight, Rol saw it as a necessary and hopefully, temporary evil as he held out hope one day that he could be rid off it once the restaurant business became stable. Disaster struck for the third time yet again when Rol's fencing racket were revealed in an undercover sting operation by the Jovian Civil Authority just a year after it was established. Thanks to the help of his loyal staff who remembered the sacrifices he made for them on Klooseward, Rol managed to escape just as officers surrounded his restaurant and bashed their way through the doors. His mother's ignorance of his illicit behaviours led to no charges being laid against her but half of his restaurant staff were arrested under charges of fencing and illegal trafficking of unauthorised goods. A warrant was issued out for Rol's arrest. Rol fled to the edges of the Kuiper Belt, hiding in a seedy [abbr=Orbital hotels/motels are space stations catering for travellers n response to travellers needing to rest without the issue of docking at a planetside space port.]orbital hotel[/abbr] until the coast was clear. Upon reacquiring intersystem radio communications with his mother, Rol found out to his horror that the variable rates on the loan had increased to the point where it would lead her to ruin unless he did something. Rol turned to gig-hunting, primarily in the catering and agro-business on the Kuiper Belt, working two jobs as a japanese food truck cook and a greenhouse operator. His salary was enough to staunch the proverbial flow of blood but it wasn't enough to sew the wound. He needed more heliodollars. On a ride to his strata-shanty from another long shift at work, Rol chanced upon an advert whilst browsing for jobs on the solar net. The information was brief but it seemed that a trading vessel by the name of the Dullahan was in need of crew members. Urgently. Seeing as he had nothing to lose, Rol sent in his resume and slept, thinking that nothing would come of it. A call and a meeting the week after had Rol packing his bags once more. The rest, as they say, is history. [/justify] [color=ff3838][sub][b]Personality & Reputation[/b][/sub][/color] [justify] Rol is a man of quiet calm and focus, finding a meditative peace and calm in his work, whether it's tending to algae bioreactors or cooking up a feast for his guests. His first and foremost priority is to others instead of himself, viewing himself as a provider and a worker first rather than a friend, sometimes to an worrisome degree. His penchant for his work is passionate enough that he works long hours, sometimes skipping sleep, just to complete the next task. But behind the cheery smiles and the offers of a hot meal for anyone's hungry stomach, Rol is a man who struggles to remain optimistic in life. His civic values of meritocratic work and benevolence have been eroded over time by countless compromises and having been punished by life two times in a row. Having lived through a life of hardship and laborious work, the former colony hand struggles to reconcile his current status as a wanted criminal and the simple, honest man he wants to be for his mother. Rol is respected but never to the point of admiration by his former coworkers and his current crew thanks to his dedication to his work and his nature as a work. His relationship with his mother remains fraught, as his omission of his restaurant's illegal operations has resulted in a rift between them, in spite of his attempts to resolve their financial debt. In spite of all this, his unconditional love for his mother knows no bounds and he would do anything to ensure that she remains safe and happy. [/justify] [color=ff3838][sub][b]Appearance[/b][/sub][/color] [justify] From miner trash to colonist rat, Rol has heard all manner of comments on his roughspun and unrefined appearance which he couldn't give less than one heliodollar about. A thick crop of copper hair covers his head like moss and below that, an easy smile scythes through a coarse and unshaven beard. Years of hard life working as a colony hand on Ganymede have bestowed Rol with a stocky and stout figure, usually hidden by his baggy dirt-encrusted poly-aramid slacks. His pan-sized palms are mapped with a canyon of scars and calluses earned from a lifetime of rough work. Rol keeps a functional and spartan wardrobe, consisting of his old EVA gear from his time on Ganymede and a pile of frayed and bleached colony uniforms. The only constants in his daily apparel are his father's [abbr=A popular holiday on Mars marking the first human landing of Mars]Mars Landing Day [/abbr] anniversary beanie and a chipped necklace of Ganymedean las-cut chondrite. [/justify] [color=ff3838][sub][b]Strengths & Limitations[/b][/sub][/color] [justify] [b]Strengths[/b] Planetary colonisation is a dangerous field and Rol is no stranger to it. Rol's years of experience on Ganymede as a colony hand and later, as a colony project supervisor for Klooseward Inc makes him one an expert in the construction and management of colony habitats, particularly regarding the installation, modification and maintenance of colony agri-tech systems such as algae bioreactors, protein myco-vats, vermiworm farms and a host of other common technologies used to support colonisation.Thanks to his experience supervising construction of his colony in the Ganymedean equator, Rol is savvy in responding to practical problems with ad hoc solutions and limited resources, remaining calm and even-tempered in dire situations. His education at Klooseward, whilst not equivalent to university education, has given him passing familiarity with cultivation of common crops and rearing of livestock used in both the Sol Federation and Jovian Commonwealth alongside basic skills in operating heavy construction machinery and limited resource management. Rol also is a capable chef thanks to his mother, specialising in various localities of Martian and Jovian cuisine. His business management skills, however, leave something to be desired. Given his rough and tumble life in all sorts of manual labour, Rol has an hitherto inhuman amount of physical endurance and stamina, able to commit to long periods of physical work without the slightest hint of fatigue. [b]Limitations[/b] Rol's relationship with his mother and the threat of a looming debt hanging over their heads remains a constant in any decision he makes. He is extremely secretive of providing information about his mother and remains mum whenever moments of conversation or discussion touch upon matters of his family. His current financial situation is also a potential vulnerability if the wrong individual with ill intentions were to be informed about it. Rol is also completely impotent in combat situations, being about as useful as a wet napkin in any situation that involves violence. Don't ask him to pick up a coil rifle, a gun or anything related to combat situations as Rol is likely to misfire and hit you just as likely as he is to hit the enemy. Whilst Rol may be wanted for criminal activity in the Jovian Commonwealth, he is also a veritable greenhorn when it comes to the finer workings of the underworld, preferring to leave it to others to sort out dirty business and is not familiar with some of the subtleties of operating with criminal elements. [/justify] [hider=Everest Mclaine] God, I think he would give Mom a aneurysm. Heard about the stories of how she had to deal with upper management back when she was a fed. Personality of his reminds me too much of those Klooseward heliocounters before they got the shaft during the M&A. You see their ilk all the time. Rich europan or mercurians with minds high in the sky, yet, can't pick up a damn irri-pick to save their life. One thing he's got going for him is a vision. It isn't one that revolves around dhim relaxing in some holi-world with a bowl of organic caviar by his side, I'll give him that. Who am I to judge him? I tried a dream that didn't end in a lifetime of chronic pain and it got eight of my coworkers arrested. He's got the stomach to try something that none of us have dreamed off. That, and he pays better than my last two jobs. So what if he requests for some weird crap like jovian baked trout or martian six spiced duck? His dream is paying my bills and he's amusing at worst. I've dealt with worst on Ganymede and his worst gives me a good challenge from time to time. As long as he stays out of my kitchen, he can lead the crew. [/hider] [hider=Gravel] I respect any man who's seen the rough side of life but crime's a shade of black I'm not tempted to wander into. Ganymede taught me that. I look at him and I see the compromise I had to make. I try not to show my discomfort but the man makes it hard. Still, he gives me a chance to experiment with cocktails every now and then. Got to thank Yerry for showing me that on Ganymede before he got thrown into an iso cube. I'd rather not talk to him much. I worry that he could find out about my past if he pokes hard enough but I haven't given him any reason to yet. Best to just keep things distant between us with a couple of martian high-orbit coolers as a stick. [/hider] [hider=Laughtrack] The kid's spunk and moxie is good, don't get me wrong, but I worry for him sometimes. Back in my crew, the type of shit he pulls would get him put on rotation until he got himself sorted out. I respect the principles of flexibility and improvisation but the guy's got a death wish, anyone can tell that from a mile away. Reminds me of myself when I was a young man, pushing myself, thinking that the body was nothing. Admirable but mistaken. Need to keep an eye and make sure he's eating enough. [/hider] [hider=Keema] Seen too many broken men and women like her back on Ganymede. If the work shifts didn't kill you from a hydro-burst or a EVA breach, stims and cheap jovian amesac got you. She's a fun talker in the galley, keeps things from being monotonous and tries out all my new dishes but I'm surprised her liver's still functioning with all the brewed kombucha I keep throwing at her. Her approval kind of makes me feel embarassed since I'm enabling some sort of addict now. [/hider] [hider=Vinh] Solid and capable as a chondrite. She's got better wits and wills than most of my crew back then on Ganymede and then, some. We're both working as hard as we can to keep things afloat in this ship in the small ways and I think some people aren't appreciative of her efforts as I am. I think she does more work than I do but it's not a competition. Her borged up behaviour sometimes set up me on the edge though. She's loaded with enough chrome that's worth several lifetimes of my old salary. All I got is this crappy callisto-ware eye and she looks like some old holo-drama supersoldier come to life. I think Vinnie's got to realize that she's more than just the metal glued to her limbs. Don't bring it up in conversation, though, if it doesn't pose any problems. Sides that, been trying to experiment with more Martian cuisine thanks to an old cookbook she provided. [/hider] [hider=Ringworm] First time interacting with a mil type. Didn't get many of those on Ganymede. Most of them had been PMCs, exsols, orbiters, spacers, jovians, martians, anyone looking to make a dime. Not as drugged out as the rest of the crew but he's wound tighter than a restraining nut on a space hab. He's got a look in his eyes sometimes when I walk by him in the hallways. Distant, searching for something missing or something in the past. Not my business to loiter around the minds of other people. Haven't seen him explode and frankly, I don't want to be around when that happens. A guy going angry I can handle. A mil-type armed with heavy weaponry and borged up with mil-spec chrome does make me nervous, even though I try to ignore it. Everyone in the galley's my guest, though, regardless of their past. Big eater though and loads up heavy on the protein. Have to make a request to Vinh to stock up extra on the soy and the other myco-vat substrates when he reach the next port. [/hider] [hider=Desna] There's a saying about guys who make it past 50 as a colony-hand back on Ganymede. It's a meatgrinder and the corps turn the handle. Either, your mind gets grinded or your body gets grinded on the way out and sometimes, it's both. She speaks little of the past but we both got screwed over by the corps and from what I've heard about Venus; it makes Ganymede look like some upper-crust mercury arco in comparison. Other than Vinh, she's the one I've talked to most on this ship since half of the kitchen keeps malfunctioning most of the time. I know how to keep things working but when it comes to fixing crap that breaks, she's my go to. She's a sour grump like Gravel but she keeps the ship alive to keep us alive. That's enough in my books to make me serve her extra sides every once in a while come meal time. [/hider] [hider=Bambi] I never got a pilot's license. Too expensive around my parts. Plenty of kids my age dreamt of becoming a hotshot like Tam Selvagen or Kiirsten Nov. I prefer my feet to be on the ground rather than in a vessel and a preferably slow one at that. Makes me respect Bambi more and her nerves. We both come from different worlds. Saying that we're both focused on the job is like saying a crab and a fish can both breathe underwater. I'll probably never understand what she goes through but I understand the drive for hard work, for discipline. Notice that she can't seem to loosen up during dinner. Enjoys a meal like a person being pumped nutri-fluid via IV in a trauma center. [/hider] [hider=Big Mo] Big, strong and dependable. Every ship needs one of these guys. Isn't too bad as a hand in a pinch. I always need help with moving our supplies in the walk-in. [/hider] [hider=Brenko] Another loner with a sordid history that I don't care about fishing. At least he comes to the galley every once in a while. [/hider] [hider=Dr Treschow] Back on Ganymede, there are some people you just don't mess with in a colony. Doctors are one of them. I'm not talking about the useless dickweed corpo doctor who gives you some prescription and calls it a day but an actual one that cares about you. Lucky that we have one. Can't count the number of times I've had to ask him to fix some cut or burn I was too embarrassed about to admit to the rest of the crew. [/hider] [color=ff3838][sub][b]Miscellaneous[/b][/sub][/color] [justify][list] [*] Possesses a malfunctioning cybernetic eye provided by Klooseward Inc as a part of his medical insurance benefits. Due to dissolution and acquisition of Klooseward Inc, standard parts for the implant no longer exist and constant error messages fill his vision. [*] Known as Chef because that's what everyone keeps calling him, even when he's off duty. [*] Possesses a hatred towards Avaloanian and Mercurian luxury cuisine. [*] Is lactose intolerant. [*] Is an avid homebrewer and connoseuir of hard kombucha. Keeps a bottle of his own supply within a locker on the ship. [/list][/justify][/color][/cell][cell][sub][sup][color=2e2c2c]____________________________________________________________________________[/color][/sup][/sub][hr][color=Gainsboro][h3]◤ [sub]“ Live life by the second. That's how you focus on the future. ”[/sub][/h3][/color] [img=portrait goes here]https://i.ibb.co/m5rhDNdG/Screenshot-20250916-124244.png[/img] [hr][color=ff3838][b]Full Name:[/b][/color] Rol 'Chef' Emsberg [color=ff3838][b]Age:[/b][/color] 38 [color=ff3838][b]Homeworld:[/b][/color] Ganymede [color=ff3838][b]Occupation:[/b][/color] Chief Steard/Agro-Tech of the Dullahan [color=ff3838][b]Affiliation(s):[/b][/color] Klooseward Inc (Former), The Little Giant Eatery (Former) [hr][/cell][/row][/table]