Player Name: Yen
Full Name: Tove Ulliel
Nicknames and Pseudonyms: Nine, Ulliel was picked off a magazine stand at random for her fake ID
Age: 25
Birth Date: April 23, 2288
Blood Type: O-
Role on Ship: Muscle, one stop shop for violence, self-nominated Official Cat Cuddler
Homeworld: ███████████
Significant Relations and Affiliations: The Lab Rats, The Sila, Astraea (must be protected, full stop)
Bonds, Obligations, Debts, and Warrants: Currently, Astraea is the main priority in Tove’s life and has assigned herself as the woman’s bodyguard. Loves her sisters and has fond memories of childhood up to a certain point, but her feelings gradually warped and became conflicted over time, unable to move past the abandonment. Still, the last thing she wants is to see any of them hurt and hopes they’re leading happier lives. Wanted and pursued by an unnamed organization.
Appearance: In the prime of her physical fitness, Tove is lined with dense, sculpted muscle and measures up at 6’1”. She moves with a natural athleticism, steady on her feet and even perfectly still in a handstand. The nature of her short, dirty blonde hair is prone to bedhead and when paired with her charming grin, a sure sign of mischief. Her blue eyes hold nothing back, alert and constantly taking in the world around her with curiosity and wonder.
Tove is comfortable in her androgyny, unbothered if she’s addressed as a woman or a man. She’s very aware that her eyes are pretty and how she has a strong jaw that combines her features into a beautiful handsomeness. She’s also not shy about using it to her advantage, indiscriminately flirting her way through any conversation.
In a world where people often carry their history on their body as scars or tattoos, Tove’s skin is unnaturally flawless. Her complexion is dotted with the occasional freckle or mole, sure, but for someone who assumes the role of muscle on the ship, her face is free of blemishes and her hands have nary a callous on them, as if she’s never worked a day in her life or been in a fight.
Despite her genetic advantages, Tove is the kind of person who looks best in a uniform, because she can’t be trusted to dress herself. If she had it her way, she’d head out to parties in loud floral print tops, cargo shorts, high tube socks, and a pair of sandals. Fortunately for everyone’s eyes, Tove’s wardrobe is limited by her meager wallet and what she can quickly throw into a duffle bag. She has a regular rotation of tank tops that show off her broad shoulders, sweatpants that cling around her narrow hips, and one navy suit that very obviously came off the rack for when she needs to leave the ship. If she sleeps topless, she can even save on some laundry!
Personality: Two words: sapphic fuckboy. In any given situation, Tove has more quips loaded in the chamber than she does bullets. She’s the high-energy, gregarious sort of person who loves making new friends and chatting up pretty women. Her compliments flow freely, if not genuinely, and she’s liable to flirt up a storm if she goes unchecked. But don’t take her too seriously. Most times she just wants to put a smile on someone’s face rather than take them to bed.
Clubbing is a brand new discovery for her, and she absolutely loves it. Dancing in a crowd surrounded by warm bodies and music thumping in her chest is Tove’s idea of a good time. While stimulants and depressants don’t have much of an effect on her, she’s willing to drink to keep the party going or smoke when offered a cigarette because she thinks it looks cool. And to make new friends.
On the ship, Tove is endlessly fascinated by what her crewmates are up to. Even if they don’t speak, she enjoys observing them work and learning their quirks and patterns. She doesn’t do well alone, prone to brooding in her memories when left unattended for too long, so she’s eager to be in the company of others to chat or help them where she can. Tove can most often be found in the gym working off the bouts of endless energy in her system, raiding the fridge for her bottomless stomach, or coaxing the ship cat over for cuddles while watching a movie when her body doesn’t let her sleep.
Tove likes to joke that her only transferable skill in life is running headfirst into danger. Pressure and stress seem to roll right off of her back. Pain is merely an inconvenience. Her instincts to protect are stronger than her own self-preservation, and when pushed, she’d much rather sacrifice herself than anyone on her team. In a serious fight, Tove’s favorite move is to let her opponent stab her, so they’re in range for her to snap their neck. Hopefully she gets to find a pretty nurse to fuss over her afterwards.
Strengths, Talents, Abilities: Personally, Tove doesn’t believe she has much to brag about. She’s had over twenty years of hand-to-hand combat, munitions, and survival training, but she never outperformed her adrenal-boosted sisters in a fight when they were around (because they’d always call off the match at the five minute mark, cheaters). She’s well-read, picks things up easily, and can speak five languages fluently (English, Russian, Mandarin, French, Sign Language) to get around on different planets, but she’s not exactly a specialized genius in any subject. She still needs to rely on spotters to track her targets to snipe, and she wishes she could instantly befriend animals. Her tall ass couldn’t exactly disappear into thin air either.
As Tove has repeatedly been told, she’s a failure. An anomaly born from the womb of genetic perfection. The only claim to fame she has is that she’s really good at getting the shit kicked out of her. Her sisters never threw a punch that kept her down. Or shanked her where it didn’t heal. Or shot her in a place that didn’t mend. (Please don’t aim at her heart or her head, she doesn’t want to find out.) Tove’s enhanced healing is useful to her, but not to anyone else. It’s not a flashy ability at all to impress sponsors with, and frankly, it attracts more danger than it wards off. People seem really eager to test how quickly she heals, and Tove might have indulged them if it didn’t still fucking hurt each time. Stars above, it’d be really nice if her pain receptors never healed again.
If Tove has to say what she’s good at, well…she’s a pretty decent cook for someone who just started learning. Not half bad at karaoke either. Her deadlift PR is twice Astraea’s weight, which is great when she needs to haul the woman’s ass out of danger, and she’s never gassed herself out running as long as she controls her breathing. She’s pretty sure she can drink anyone under the table, but she won’t because that feels like cheating. On the track, Tove has learned she can hit a pretty sick drift too. She’s not sure how valuable these skills are, but they’ve made her life more fun recently and that’s what matters to her.
Weaknesses and Fears: Tove would be the envy of all if her regeneration made her immortal, but she’s not. Things that are not cool to Tove: insignificant injuries like cuts, scrapes, and bruises heal in a matter of minutes (ironically making them the most dangerous at exposing her ability). Things that are even less cool to Tove: injuries like stabs take hours to heal. Hours. Pizza’s delivered faster! And get this, gunshots and broken bones? Days. What is she supposed to do in the meantime? Sit uselessly on the couch? She doesn’t even want to think about regeneration from scratch. So much for her get rich quick scheme to sell off her regrowing organs.
Her sisters. She kinda resents them. But also loves them. She just doesn’t understand why they couldn’t postpone the escape a day or two for her to finish healing in the infirmary. Did they think she was so inferior that she‘d drag them down? Whatever. Hope they’re having a great life and not dead from withdrawal. Dia and Tony were the only ones left she could count on. When Tove finds out who was responsible for taking them away from her…Dia’s sponsor better have a fucking orbital strike canon or something if they intend to keep Tove away.
If anything bad happens to Astraea, Tove may as well walk into a ship thruster and call it a day. The woman shattered Tove’s fishbowl and gave her freedom at the cost of her own career and...everything. She’s aware that Astraea is still trying to solve that slow burning chemical kill switch inside of her as well. Tove doesn’t know how to repay Astraea, but she’ll listen to her science mambo jumbo for as long as it takes, make sure the woman eats properly, and do anything to keep her safe.
And for all her flirting…sex. It leaves her too vulnerable. She’s intersex and has something for everyone but prefers women. Even then, she’s not sure how they’ll react. Tove has enough of an inferiority complex from her time as a homegrown lab rat, thank you very much. Maybe if she catches a vibe, then she’ll have some fun without letting anyone touch her, but in most cases, she’s happy enough with flirty attention and will leave it at that.
History: Tove grew up with a building full of collective “parents” and twelve sisters. At least, that was the lie she was told for the first half of her life. They called her Nine, and for the longest time, she had no desire to claim an identity of her own. Nine was short and simple, easy to say, and objectively there was nothing wrong with the number nine she was named after. Her blonde hair and blue eyes gave the impression of a shy, innocent puppy who wanted to follow her sisters around all the time. It was immediately apparent at a young age that she just lacked a certain…drive some of her sisters had.
In combat aptitude assessments, she tested high but never first place. In general education, she kept up with the pack but didn’t stand out. She was adaptable and creative, but they were traits often overshadowed by her cheerful obedience to her sisters and their “parents”.
Her first act of accidental rebellion was pondering over what it meant to love. She was eight, perhaps, staring down at the word love she wrote down on a notebook she was allowed to keep but had to turn in at the end of each week. It was easy enough to conclude that she loved her sisters. A deep vein of devotion ran through her whole body for them. Was it wrong that she didn’t feel the same for their parents? Or their robot caretakers? When one of their parents unexpectedly entered her room, she hastily crossed out the word but only got the first letter in her embarrassment, leaving her with tove on the page.
Tove. A name she was testing out, she lied. Like her sisters were doing. She had no idea it would be the kindest lie she ever told herself.
Puberty marked a chapter of change in more ways than one. Over time, their parents became cold and distant. Strangers visited and looked at Tove like she was born a disappointment. Her favorite dad, who spoiled her with new music and books, disappeared without a word. Tove and her sisters were pushed harder than ever, and it felt like they were being punished for no reason. Her home became a cold and unnerving place. The cameras that she used to think were put up for their protection now judged her every move.
New parents replaced some of her old ones, and Tove hated the way they treated her sisters. Why did her sisters have to fight each other? Why couldn’t Europa be saved when they were surrounded with advanced medical equipment? Why wasn’t Tove allowed to see the rest of them anymore? Tove was shut down at every question, isolated and punished with more of her personal belongings taken away as punishment, and it wasn’t until, in a fit of desperation, she begged her parents to let her fight her sisters, so she could see them again and make sure they were okay.
Tove swore she could make her sisters shine. That’s what her new parents wanted, right? She knew her sisters’ best skills, how they fought, and how to push them. She had the stamina to outrun adrenaline-fueled rages, the healing to go head to head with vampires. She had the endurance to get tossed around by telekineses, and the speed to give trackers a run for their money. When it came to impressing strangers, sponsors, Tove knew she could put on a good show, so her sisters could go all out. It didn’t matter how beat up Tove got. She’d always be ready for the next fight.
Her pitch worked out too well.
Over the next few years, their parents began to use Tove to desensitize her sisters to maiming humans. With nothing more than a full face helmet over her head, a thick metallic shock collar around her neck to prevent her from stalling for too long, and a plated vest to protect her vitals, Tove was used as the target of assassinations in a simulated obstacle course over and over again. She endured reinforced fists, stabbings, bones broken from grappling, bullet wounds, tiger bites, and so on. She also got very, very good at parkour to get out of reach because she didn’t want to hurt Tony and keep distance from trackers.
She saw the inside of the medical bay more often than her own room, but Tove was determined to survive so her sisters didn’t have to tear each other apart. She wanted to see her sisters succeed and didn’t mind that it was at the expense of herself. Tove had always been told she was expendable and a failure anyway so being useful to her sisters felt rewarding in its own twisted way. Her own demonstrations took a backseat. It was kind of a sad and pathetic sight to watch a kid get the shit beat out of her anyway. No one's sticking around for hours to wait for her to heal.
Sponsors were looking for weapons when Tove was a shield. It was hard to imagine she’d ever be headed for a better life.
Mental resilience was key though. Ever since Tove learned from her parents that her body occasionally took snapshots of herself as a reference point to heal back to, she was encouraged to keep a positive mindset to maintain healthy neuro pathways. What should have been horrific, repeated trauma embedded in the bones of her being was deflected with jokes and a false, reassuring confidence. She didn’t want her sisters feeling guilty and hated seeing people look at her with pity. Her new parents were a tough crowd, but Tove stubbornly developed her charm to get small perks from them, like more meat in her meals or new music to listen to while recovering from injuries. Music, especially, was an important part of her life. She made the case that it could influence her mood, keep her positive. It helped her in recovery after fulfilling her role as a punching bag or facing insurmountable odds.
The day her sisters broke out, the lies unraveled. Tove had caught wind of the occasional whisper or mutter of them plotting to escape over the years, but they didn’t have a timeline. The break was sudden, an opportunity seized while Tove was unconscious and recovering in the medical wing. Her life as she knew it changed in an instant, and abandonment hit her hard. She was thirteen and heartbroken, hurt more deeply than any injury she had ever taken. Was she useless after all? Did her sisters think she would’ve held them back?
Tove was isolated even further from her remaining sisters, told all she had to know was that they died, but she couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense that her sisters would’ve run to their deaths. They were smart, capable, and resourceful. She was aware of the loose threads that her sisters pulled apart over the years, and with them permanently gone, it was enough to cast doubt over her “parents” words and give more credit to her sisters’ paranoia. Tove didn’t want to believe her sisters were dead, but her hope that they made it out alive also conflicted with her resentment. After everything she tried to do for them, they just…left? Without her? Maybe she really wasn’t good enough for them.
Dia and Tony were the only ones she really saw in her teenage years. Tove was the one who could withstand Tony’s claws and teeth. She threw herself into training with them, doing her best to shove away feelings of inferiority. Her growth spurt hit as well, shooting Tove up tall and forcing her to adapt her techniques to her growing body. The healing mutation inside of her accelerated muscle growth, stitching over each micro-tear in a matter of seconds. Tove had to drop weightlifting to prevent from bulking up too fast, working out with her own body weight through calisthenics instead. When she wasn’t training with Dia and Tony, she was training with instructors.
The older she got, the more her ability developed. She needed more food for her body to burn and less sleep for her body to recover. Nights were the worst. Unable to sleep for long, Tove reread all of her books, sang and danced to entertain herself, and trained with her own bodyweight to keep from bouncing off the walls. She hated curfew and being confined to her room now, longing for the kind of escape she hoped some of her sisters found.
Dia and Tony’s brainwashing was the last straw. She watched her sister and EO disappear right in front of her, the recognition in their eyes fading dimmer and dimmer week by week. It broke her heart all over again, and when they disappeared from her life, Astraea came into it.
At twenty-three years old, Tove finally learned that there were whole worlds outside of this lab. The older woman was the only one willing to talk to her and give her answers that actually made sense. Even if it was only in brief, muttered snippets, Tove clung to those moments desperately with an ache in her chest. Astraea was now the only one in her life who didn’t look at Tove like she was a failure. Someone who asked about her wellbeing that went beyond recording notes on a tablet. Someone who offered Tove freedom.
Planning her escape took some time, but Tove was patient. She took advantage of the good will she had accumulated over the years of obedient compliance, going through the motions like a trained hound until the perfect moment arrived.
They spent a few months together on the run with Tove using her considerable talents to keep them safe and one step ahead from their pursuers, while Astraea kept them afloat with the resources she tucked away. There were moments of levity and joy as Tove got to experience life outside the lab, but she couldn’t completely relax knowing she had to constantly be looking over her shoulder.
One time, they had a close call when Tove instinctively reacted to a drunk harassing them as a threat. She neatly eliminated the man without a second thought, not even sparing a moment to talk shit to him. There wasn’t any point to insulting the garbage when she was taking out the trash, after all. It was a bad time to find out just how warped Tove’s perspective was and the many ways she’d need deprogramming. After quickly fleeing the scene and hopping on the next flight off world before they were caught, Tove promised Astraea not to kill anyone she wasn’t approved to from now on.
Anything Else: Intersex but made sterile. Carries condoms on her just in case. Sees labels as something for others to sort out how they view her in their heads, not reliant on it as a personal identity. Refers to herself with she/her pronouns out of convenience and because of her relation to her sisters.
Tove may be lab-grown and held in captivity for twenty-five years, but she doesn’t see herself as a victim. In her mind, everything she put herself through was voluntary or a circumstance that she deserved. Her perspectives on pain and harm are twisted to an abnormal degree, and while she would never consider herself a cruel person, she understands how useful violence can be and is unnaturally resilient in both mind and body.
Tove has very little ego in things. She’ll pretend to be as winded as the person running next to her, cheer on people more skilled than her, and let herself get punched in the face to de-escalate a situation. Outside the lab, people actually fuss over her when she’s hurt, and she loves the attention.
Her enhanced healing goes beyond healing her injuries. While she still needs the formula she and her sisters are dependent on, her ability slows down the deteriorating effects. Her bones are more durable than normal from repeated breaks during training, and she builds muscle easily. The occasional nap during the day is enough to bring Tove to a full rest, so her nights are usually spent acclimating herself to her new reality through movies or the internet.
Has a playlist of firearms and vehicle sounds that she puts on shuffle to quiz herself.
Always hungry. Always burns like a furnace.
Loves cats because they remind her of Tony.
Model: Katarzyna Zillmann