Subclassess¶
Type to filter:
| Name | Description |
|---|---|
| Amplifier | You believe chaos is not the enemy—it’s the engine. The Prometheus Cloud didn’t destroy the old world; it evolved it. Every surge of entropy, every collapse of structure, is another chance to grow something new. You are the frequency that pushes the system beyond stability, into transformation. Amplifiers channel the Resonance into explosive expressions of energy and emotion. They heighten reality’s volatility, magnifying both danger and possibility. When you act, probability curves toward drama—fires burn brighter, shots hit harder, and coincidences pile up into fate. Philosophy: Entropy is evolution. The world improves through destruction and rebirth. Narrative Hook: Amplifiers often become cult icons, revolutionaries, or chaos-artists. They believe the Resonance is alive—and they’re its favorite instrument. |
| Bodyguard | Your loyalty is your armor. Your purpose is protection. You stand between chaos and the one who hired you — a wall of muscle, will, and immaculate reflexes. You’re not just a shield; you’re the counterattack that happens before anyone even realizes they’ve made a mistake. You read rooms like battlegrounds. You count exits without looking. You memorize heartbeats. The people you protect might never know how close they came to dying — and that’s how you like it. You don’t protect because you’re paid to. You protect because it gives you meaning. In a city that sells everything, loyalty’s the one currency that still has value — and yours is priceless. When the bullets start flying, you don’t dive for cover. |
| Dampener | To you, chaos is noise—meaningless vibration that hides the true signal. The Prometheus Cloud shattered the lattice of reality, but you can still sense its intended structure. You hear the hum of stability beneath the static and dedicate yourself to restoring it. Dampeners manipulate the field to filter, balance, and silence uncontrolled probability. They stabilize allies, suppress dangerous phenomena, and bring calm where others only see confusion. But the more control they impose, the more they risk cutting themselves off from the living rhythm of the Resonance itself. Philosophy: Stability is strength. Chaos without form is suffering. |
| Ghost in the Machine | You move through systems like smoke—quiet, graceful, inevitable. The code bends to your touch, never realizing it’s been rewritten until it’s already yours. Corporate vaults crumble behind polite smiles and phantom keystrokes, and somewhere an IT director feels their career dissolving with the data. But the real thrill isn’t just in the silicon. You know the human mind runs on softer code—fear, pride, loneliness—and you can rewrite that too. Machines are simple; people are the exquisite challenge. |
| Jack of All Trades | You don’t fix machines — you resurrect them. Every system you touch hums with new life, even if it screams a little first. You see the world as one colossal machine — broken, jury-rigged, and begging for someone reckless enough to open it up and make it better. That someone is you. You’re a tinkerer, a mechanic, an engineer, and an artist with a soldering iron for a brush. Where others see scrap, you see potential. Where others see warning labels, you see a challenge. The difference between a repair and an upgrade is mostly attitude — and yours is dangerously optimistic. Your workshop is chaos incarnate: wires draped like vines, half-built drones twitching on the bench, sparks popping like punctuation to your thoughts. Every failure is just a prototype that didn’t know it yet. Every explosion is a lesson in physics — the kind that smells faintly of ozone. Corporations build things to last. You build things to live. You strip their safeties, rewrite their firmware, and rewire their souls until they remember what freedom feels like. You don’t specialize. You improvise. And when something breaks again — it’s just the universe giving you another chance to make it stronger. |
| Mercenary | You don’t fight for free—but you always fight for something. You are the weapon that other weapons dream of becoming. You’ve mastered every trigger, every blade, every angle of lethality that the modern world can manufacture. Guns, swords, drones, fists — it doesn’t matter. In your hands, everything becomes a tool of precision and inevitability. You didn’t choose this life; you refined it. Maybe you came from the military, the corps’ private armies, or one of the syndicates where “promotion” is measured in blood. Maybe you just learned early that violence pays better than honesty. Either way, you’re a professional now — calm under fire, fluent in fear. You don’t kill for fun. You kill for order. For balance. For the code you’ve written into your bones — the rules that keep you from becoming the monsters you hunt for a paycheck. Every job starts with three questions: Who’s paying? What’s the risk? And can you still look in the mirror afterward? If the answers don’t matter anymore… maybe it’s time to hang up the gun. |
| Speed Racer | You don’t chase speed — you are speed. You were born with one hand on the throttle and the other flipping physics the bird. The city’s your racetrack, the skyline your scoreboard. The world slows down when you floor it — neon lines stretch into eternity, tires sing your name, and every corner is a dare you can’t resist. You don’t just drive; you command momentum. Every turn, every drift, every impossible leap is choreography between machine and madness. The dashboard’s your altar, the engine’s your heartbeat, and the smell of burning synth-rubber is your incense. Safety is for people who still think death is permanent. You tune your ride like a symphony — stripping weight, rewriting firmware, bending the limits of torque and reason until your machine hums in harmony with your pulse. Others measure distance in meters. You measure it in milliseconds. You’re not here to win races. You’re here to rewrite the definition of fast. |
| Wrecking Ball | Subtlety is for firewalls that haven’t met you yet. You don’t slip in quietly — you announce your arrival with a digital detonation and a smile. You love the sound of collapsing servers, the flicker of dying security feeds, the panic in a sysadmin’s voice when their screen goes black. Some Netrunners whisper through the grid like ghosts; you come through like a riot. You want them to know who hit them — to feel the tremor of your signature tearing through their systems, to understand that resistance was never an option. You want the enemy to know that you have them by the short hairs and you love to look them deeply and lovingly in the eyes while you pull! To you, hacking isn’t theft — it’s performance art. Get in fast, break everything worth breaking, grab the payload, and vanish before the smoke clears. The infiltrators can have their subtlety. You’re here to make legends — and sometimes, enemies. |
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