Role descriptions

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Role descriptions

As a way to bring out the creative side among ourselves I thought it would be neat to post our own descriptions for the classic Cyberpunk roles, perhaps even giving CDPR some ideas in the process. The descriptions should be short texts, consisting of only a couple of sentences, wherein you compellingly describe what you think defines a role. It doesn't have to be detailed, as long as it captivates the imagination (think of them of extended taglines with more meat to it). Underneath I've listed the roles and their most basic descriptions (from Wikipedia) for those who are not familiar with the source material.

The Roles
  • Cop
    Maximum lawmen on mean 21st century streets
  • Corporate
    Slick business raiders and multi-millionaires
  • Fixer
    Deal makers, smugglers, organizers and information brokers
  • Media
    Newsmen and reporters who go to the wall for the truth
  • Netrunner
    Cybernetic computer hackers
  • Nomad
    Road warriors and gypsies who roam the highways
  • Rockerboy
    Rebel rockers who use music and revolt to fight authority
  • Solo
    Hired assassins, bodyguards, killers, soldiers
  • Techie
    Renegade mechanics and doctors
The Rules
To keep things clear, just pick the role(s) you want to describe and put it in this form:

[Role name in bold, Size 3]
[Description directly underneath it. At least 3 sentences with a maximum of 10 sentences or so, as long as its not an entire back story - keep it short and memorable]

Example:

Cop
The violence, the rackets, the grime... Night City needs a purging and a gun and badge is all it takes. From squashing local boostergangs and rounding up shady trafficking operations out in the streets, to sweeping the Net for illegal activity - there's no place the law can't reach. Driven by his ideal of justice, the cop goes out on duty, the power of authority stirring in his flesh as he assumes its very form. He'll have his way; if not by mandate, then by force.
 
SOLO
I have witnessed this world's corruptness and i know it is beyond help. i was once a cop trying to rid the world of this impudence it bears,but to no avail. i have brought down many a crime lord but others just take up their place, and so now i have decided to live alone, fend for myself, but with a past and the skills of a cop it is not easy and i am afraid that no matter what all will be engulfed with the on goings of the human race, but i still look for a chance to help it.
 
Fixer
Business, not that shit them corps do. Real street biz. The old buy low, sell high thing. Everyone needs something or another, I connect those who need with what they need, for a little profit. Someone's trash can be someone else's treasure and digging some corporate's trash can get you a lot of info, if you know where to look. While gangs fight each other, the police, the CorpSec and the system, I'm the guy selling them their gear... Sometimes taking it off their dead bodies... but hey! Biz is biz, nothing personal, chum.
 
SOLO
I have witnessed this world's corruptness and i know it is beyond help. i was once a cop trying to rid the world of this impudence it bears,but to no avail. i have brought down many a crime lord but others just take up their place, and so now i have decided to live alone, fend for myself, but with a past and the skills of a cop it is not easy and i am afraid that no matter what all will be engulfed with the on goings of the human race, but i still look for a chance to help it.

Not every Solo is a former Cop.
 
COP
The law, we watch ... hopeless ... helpless as all our sweat and tears end with the scum of this city walking back onto the streets. Where is Justice when she isn't just blind but in the pockets of those who can afford her good graces or for whom violence prevents the cries ... the pleas of victims from reaching her ears? The city plays host to an arms race: the lawless and haves versus us those who up hold the law and are the have nots. Sometimes those who keep to justice are forced to take extreme measures. I remember during academy we being told that it is better to keep the gangs on the streets and their bullshit then stop them and find whole cartels and their poison in our neighbourhoods. While gangs and catrels make me sick, the corporations are on a whole 'nother level. How do you bring to justice those who can write and rewrite the law as they see fit?
 
Media
people these days don't care about the weather or last weeks bake-sale, they want the story of the "psycho gone berserk" or the "good-cop kills bad-cop" I picked this job because someones gotta snap your bullet ridden corpse on a hard braindance for the masses, and you can bet ill get every little scream and bloodstain out of that bang downtown live in super slo-mo of course.
"its all about the shot"
 
Rockerboy

Shamans. Soothsayers. The sages and mystics; the proverbial monks atop the mountain. In every generation, in every culture throughout the world, there's been those people that others look to for inspiration, motivation, and guidance.

In the Age of Information and the Age of Braindance, many people have lost their way. They're content to watch the clock run out, working jobs they hate, to buy garbage they don't need, to impress people they don't like.

But not you. Because you're a Rockerboy.

You never quite "fit in" while you were younger, and now you understand why. You read between the lines and the lies of the screamsheets and the mainstream media, and you're not having it.

You are here to F?!K THINGS UP and shake the masses out of their shrink-wrapped, ready-to-eat, catalogue-shopped stupor. You are here to show them how to throw off the shackles of corporate control. And you are not alone. You don't have "fans" so much as an extended family, an extended tribe, a body politic. And you are all united by The Message.

David Bowie. Iggy Pop. GG Allin. Jello Biafra. Henry Rollins. Chuck D. Zack de la Rocha. In the tradition of those proud and noble shamans that have led people through cultural revolutions, you are the manifest destiny of this age. You are here to lead your people out of the clutches of modern day pharaoh, and in to a new Age of Enlightenment.

You have a thousand people at your disposal at a moment's notice, not because you're famous, not because you're high-profile, not because they owe you something, but because THEY BELIEVE! in The Message. You can get in to places and get up in faces, because what are those suits and their goons gonna do?? Put a bullet in your head? F?!K THOSE GUYS. They move on you, and a thousand of your people come down on their heads like a ton of angry Rippers, Wolvers, and auto-shotguns.

You are here to BREAK THEIR BACKS, and godd@mn it, you're gonna see it happen, or die trying in the process.
 
Nomad

You have seen them... perhaps in dust covered leathers, their skin darkened and rough from its exposure to the sun, openly wearing their weapons in brazen display, like the cowboys and outlaws of old. Sitting astride a hand built motorcycle, or perhaps a scrapped together muscle car obsolete by your standards, but terrible and awes inspiring in its mechanical aggression.

Or perhaps you have seen the workers, migrant agri-cultural laborers following the harvests or filling out the ranks of construction crews, building your glass towers that they will never be welcome in. You have certainly seen the families, huddled about stalls, selling produce, scavenged goods or hand made trinkets, never to far from the old van or truck that serves as home and livelihood.

If you have traveled you have seen them, convoys of vehicles.... trucks, cars, motorcycles, riding as one, openly armed and in familial concert. Only the largest corporations can afford to maintain their own shipping services. These lost souls transport and deliver everything else.

You see them in the cities, trading, gathering supplies, or looking for work, anything to help support themselves or their greater community. Others have come merely seeking a place to call home, a respite from the wasteland.

They are Nomad.

The desert sun rises at their backs, the arid wind blows sand to scour their cheeks. They are the forgotten, the cast out, the exiled.... the wanderers. They leave nothing to waste, scouring the rubble of a rural America abandoned in exodus as its people fled to the cities, hoping to find work. They possess only what is needed to survive, they do not weigh themselves down with the triviality of modern convenience.

People in the cities have many preconceptions about them. Some believe them to be homeless drifters merely looking for a handout. Some see them as modern day gypsies peddling their cheap wares and scavenging for scraps, stealing whatever isn't bolted down. Others see them as merciless raiders, ruthlessly slaughtering any who dare cross their paths on the open road. None of these things are entirely true, and none of them are entirely false.

They are survivors above all else. Some of them fought in service to their country, only to be abandoned by it and left to die in the fetid jungles far to the south. They crawled and fought their way back to a country that had disavowed them because they had no place else to go. Others came into the life by misfortune, losing everything in the collapse they drifted... the lucky ones found community and hope, the unlucky ones bones litter the dust. And still others have always lived this life, the roving bikers, the migrant workers, even the festival followers. They have come together, individually, as small tribes, and as enormous communities united in their struggles. They work, they trade, they live.

They are the last truly free men, unrestrained by the rules of your corporate world, unfettered by polite society. But do not mistake their lack of homestead or modern amenity for weakness... they will fight. They do not fight for money, or power. They do not fight for a flag, or for a piece of land... they fight for themselves, they fight for their families, they fight for survival.

Individually they are strong, together they are legion. Seven Nations rise at their backs... and the open road belongs to them.

Tremble in their presence, for they are the ghosts of the American dream.
 
Rockerboy

Shamans. Soothsayers. The sages and mystics; the proverbial monks atop the mountain. In every generation, in every culture throughout the world, there's been those people that others look to for inspiration, motivation, and guidance.

In the Age of Information and the Age of Braindance, many people have lost their way. They're content to watch the clock run out, working jobs they hate, to buy garbage they don't need, to impress people they don't like.

But not you. Because you're a Rockerboy.

You never quite "fit in" while you were younger, and now you understand why. You read between the lines and the lies of the screamsheets and the mainstream media, and you're not having it.

You are here to F?!K THINGS UP and shake the masses out of their shrink-wrapped, ready-to-eat, catalogue-shopped stupor. You are here to show them how to throw off the shackles of corporate control. And you are not alone. You don't have "fans" so much as an extended family, an extended tribe, a body politic. And you are all united by The Message.

David Bowie. Iggy Pop. GG Allin. Jello Biafra. Henry Rollins. Chuck D. Zack de la Rocha. In the tradition of those proud and noble shamans that have led people through cultural revolutions, you are the manifest destiny of this age. You are here to lead your people out of the clutches of modern day pharaoh, and in to a new Age of Enlightenment.

You have a thousand people at your disposal at a moment's notice, not because you're famous, not because you're high-profile, not because they owe you something, but because THEY BELIEVE! in The Message. You can get in to places and get up in faces, because what are those suits and their goons gonna do?? Put a bullet in your head? F?!K THOSE GUYS. They move on you, and a thousand of your people come down on their heads like a ton of angry Rippers, Wolvers, and auto-shotguns.

You are here to BREAK THEIR BACKS, and godd@mn it, you're gonna see it happen, or die trying in the process.

yeahh good one :D
 
ROCKERBOY

Born and raise in the streets of Night City. With his grandparents, group to be a fine citizen of Night City. Until a B.D. kill all the people in his neighborhood including his poor grandparents. He saw how she was pick by the special force in the police department in of N.C.

He grow up with that memory in his brain, never forgetting that. Growing up working noble, and with a low profile get enough money to finally infiltrate himself in that dark business to meet the person behind all this and save his memories of what hunt his nights.
 
ROCKERBOY

Born and raise in the streets of Night City. With his grandparents, group to be a fine citizen of Night City. Until a B.D. kill all the people in his neighborhood including his poor grandparents. He saw how she was pick by the special force in the police department in of N.C.

He grow up with that memory in his brain, never forgetting that. Growing up working noble, and with a low profile get enough money to finally infiltrate himself in that dark business to meet the person behind all this and save his memories of what hunt his nights.

You are an AI aren't you? That explains why your speech patterns remind me of chatbots... the whole "English is not your first language" thing is just a cover story isn't it.?

I am on to your game pal....
 
Techie
In the time of metal and machine, where flesh is replaced with surgical steel and silicon, you can be the protector of either. Mankind has long since been fascinated with their toys and baubles. You can turn them into machines that bend the limits of known technology, even now. Your mind is the limit, and it is a deep one. Alternatively you can become a guardian of skin and bone, protecting others from undue harm and malaise. Perhaps you do it for a forgotten oath, or out of a pure need for cash. All that you know is that the flesh is weak, and it's your job to fix up the messes a person can become.
 
Techie

Maybe you grew up in an arcology, with too much free time on your hands and an insatiable curiosity. Maybe you grew up in a Nomad pack, and had to learn how to fix what you had, and salvage what you could. Maybe you grew up in one of the nice, clean, Corporate 'burbs, and you developed a knack for circumventing the various security and "nanny" systems, so you could go out and cause mischief.

Whatever your background, everyone you know knows you as THE "go-to" person when something's not working the way it should, or if they need some tech to do what it normally doesn't. You figured out how to create a live broadcast uplink for a smartgun link waaay before there was a commercial model available. You learned how to "bluebox" dataterms, so you can get free, unlimited, and most importantly, ANONYMOUS 'Net access. You're the person that installed that ghost-deck in the 'Zone, that repeats to that other ghost-deck that's "borrowing" bandwith at that parking structure on the edge of the Corporate sector.

This modern age is a giant open-architecture toybox for you, to deconstruct / reconstruct as whim and fancy takes you. Jailbreak that new wireless tablet? Machine a mirror-image .50 cal Desert Eagle for a lefty? Get all the billboards downtown to broadcast "Gangnam Style" in time with a flash-mob? Motorcycle that cooks your food as you commute, with an automatic shunt so your food doesn't get overcooked?

No problem!
 
Media

Information is knowledge, and knowledge is power. Therefore, as a Media, you are one of the most powerful people on the face of the planet.

Public opinion and shareholder confidence is POWERFUL leverage, and you are EXACTLY the person to inform their opinion.

Legislators sanction wars and pass bills into law, all based on perception of events. You are the person that controls that perception.

This world needs change, and you're the one that's going to bring it, whether everyone else realizes it or not.

You definitely have an agenda, and lord help anyone on the wrong end of it.
 
Solo

First and foremost, before everything else, there is The Job.

Background doesn't matter; maybe you're ex-military, and this was the skillset that suited you best when you rotated out. Maybe you grew up in one of the hot-zones around the world, and you had to get wise to combat as a matter of necessity. Mabye you started out as just another punk, who by luck or by skill, got good at what you were doing. Maybe you're on a cushy corporate payroll, with health benefits and stock options; maybe you're a freelance contractor, hustling for work.

Reasons for taking the job don't matter. Some are in it purely for the money. Some are in it for the rush. Some have an agenda. Some are a very specific kind of monster that CANNOT operate as a normal citizen.

The Job is what you do. It has made you who you are, and it is what pushes you to become better at it, because being sloppy either gets you less work, or gets you dead.

The Job has forged you into a razor-sharp weapon; lethal and effective. In kind, you perform your Job with the efficiency your employers have come to expect, and to the standard you hold yourself to.

So. The Job.

Let's talk about your next assignment...

---------- Updated at 03:38 PM ----------

(Thread necro'd this one because I thought it was fun. :) )
 
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Corps

Your background matters not. You might be a trader who got recognized for dumb luck on Wall Street ---- a six sigma phenomenon that deserves neither praise or recognition but got it anyway. A graduate from Harvard born with a silver spoon. A loser from a no-name uni who got something to prove. A rising salesman who acts like a bull in a china shop.
As for your personal life, maybe you`re a religious fanatic. Or a backer of terrorissm. Maybe you bludgeon neighbourhood cats with a rusty knife in your spare time.
Chances are though, you just spend it on high class hookers and vodka waiting for judgement day to come. Who cares?

With your silver tongue, you cut the societal fabric like hot knife through butter.With the same weapons, you stitch it back in a more aesthetically pleasant fashion.
You are capitalism's finest. You grok the process of creative destruction. You get results.

Or maybe you`re just a tool. Maybe you`re just the invariable fall guy when things go south and your incompetence can finally be exposed for the world to see. Who cares?
 
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