well, for my NPCs, here's the example background I came up with (cribbing generously from Rifleman's Synthetic for tone):
QUOTE
J-KQN, Jack Quinn, The Synthetic
Stage 1: Background: The Corp Is Mother, The Corp Is Father
Family. You say that word, and most people think of parents, sibs, or even just your crew down on 79th Street and Mackinaw. Not me. For me, "Family" was Novatech and my two dozen identical brothers. The lot of us, genegineered in the vat, were to be the next wave of loyal corp peons and managers, classified as "Post-fetal Experimental Tissue Cultures, Model KQN," the pet project of Wilson Versaw, an upper mid-level peon who couldn't have been prouder if we had been his own flesh and blood. We weren't, thank goodness. Instead, "the KQN geneotype has been custom-designed and augmented from a Clean-Gene Type-Owen cell line to provide a superior intellect in the phenotype. In addition, by beginning from the cultured Type-Owen cell line, further bioware upgrades can be implanted with minimal systemic disruption."
Goal: I'm More Than Just A Made-To-Order "Tissue Culture"
Stage 2: Rising Action: Quality Control
But, hard as they try, loyalty isn't something you can program into the genes. Not yet, anyway. So they programmed our heads instead. Indoctrination along with the wetware, education alongside the hardware, as we were molded into fitting the pattern they desired out of us. We learned to walk, talk, eat, sleep and shit the Company Line, the chosen ones, the golden boys. Most people stay up at night wondering what the hell they're here for. We didn't wonder: we knew. And to our narrow vision, it was presented as the ultimate, the pinnacle. On the downside, though, only excellence was allowed; we had to stay within "acceptable parameters" and "project guidelines" and "proper sociological conditioning" or there would be hell to pay. And the tests, oh, the testing. Everything from growth rate to IQ to blood testing… Even with RFID-tagged sensors, we still got tested so much that it was almost funny, looking back on it, like we were some objects on an assembly line, being put through quality control. Almost.
Goal: Charting My Own Path, Making My Own Way.
Stage 3: Moment of Crisis: Two Weeks Notice
Guest Star: Z-KQN, Zachary "Zack" Quinn
Everyone thinks we’re special. That someone like me, created in a tube and designed from the ground up, can’t end up here in the shadows. Given what they say, you’d think that from the day we’re born we get treated like kings, given the finest education and the best day care with only the company for parents. A special project like that doesn’t get canceled, they say.
But what happens, chum, when those special projects do get shut down? Or what happens when a corporation has about two dozen of me who have been specially trained for a task that doesn’t even exist anymore? The lucky ones get reassigned to different projects or adopted by families. Others like me and my brothers have to hit the ground running.
My 'brother', Z-KQN, Zack, was goofing off and hacking the system, just to see if he could. He could. And found some memos. Due to "inadequate revenue streams" and "analytical financial heuristics" and other BS, they were going to be shutting down our project and sending us to a "processing center". Think about that for a second, when you know that your "geneotype design specifications" means that your entire body qualifies as Type-O grade organ donation materials. We couldn’t escape fast enough. But, first, we needed a plan. Luckily, we had been trained to make them.
Goal: Knowledge Is Power, And Ignorance Is Only Bliss If You Don't Know That You're Ignorant. I'd Rather Be Powerful And Sad Instead Of Happy And Dead.
Stage 4: Sidetracked: Excess Inventory
Guest Star: M-KQN, Mackenzie "Mack" Quinn
The funny thing about loyalty? It goes both ways. Betray the kids who have been told to worship you their entire lives, and you'll get back betrayal. With interest.
We started a little conspiracy. We had a few days, but we knew the system inside and out. We were part of that system. Who better to bring it down? Zack did a few judicious bits of hacking and embezzlement, and hired a shadowrunner team through the Matrix. But we didn't want to be under anyone's thumb. Not anymore. Just in case the runners decided that they would screw us over too. So they were hired to hit another part of the complex, and cause enough chaos to let us spring ourselves.
We wouldn't have had that option, though, if not for Mack, M-KQN. We might be clones, but we're not all alike. Mack is a wiz at drones, just as I'm a planner and Zack is a hacker. If not for Mack's hacked drones sending the complex into an uproar, we never would have made it out. Some of us didn't. Out of the twenty-six "KQN" clones, we all either escaped or died that night. I know that the others are out there, somewhere. And none of us would have made it at all, if not for Mack's drones and their cover fire. And, so, we slipped into the shadows.
Goal: Never Pass Up A Chance To Pilfer NeoNET's Goats.
Stage 5: Building The Team: Perspective Is A Matter Of Relativity
Guest Star: TB9, "Testbed-9", "Teabee"
We hit the ground running; between our training, skills and knowledge, with what we were taught, we were a natural at this. We grew up as part of the corporation, learned what the corporations wanted us to learn, and taught us how things worked. Who better to tear them apart?
A few months later, we were on a job--and visiting home, at the same time, you might say. We knew the security procedures in and out. I wouldn't say that it was a cakewalk, but we didn't kill anyone. Got in, got the paydata, wiped down the lab, did a few million nuyen in damage to cover up what our exact target was, and also picked up a souvenir.
A kid, just sitting there in the lab. Only he wasn't a kid. He wasn't even a future corp peon like we had been. No, he was a walking, talking experiment in nano-cybernetics, him and his entire creche, seeing what effect the nanites would have on "in-utero and post-fetal development." He called himself "TB-Niner," because that was what he was, "Testbed-Nine". We're calling him Brother. And, one day, we'll go back for the rest of them.
Goal: Now I Get To Choose My Family.
So, ultimately, my original goal is the basic question of which metatype is appropriate for the Quinn brothers, human, elf or dwarf, given their origin as engineered corpers? And then into a larger discussion of corporate attitudes on cloning and metatype, which has already started, it seems.