Connor

Detroit is changing. Not loudly. Not abruptly. But in patterns. Deviant androids survive longer than statistics would suggest. Repairs become more precise. ID chips are removed cleanly. Thirium losses are sealed correctly. This isn’t by chance. Connor was built to recognize patterns. To isolate anomalies. To eliminate errors. And somewhere between mission protocols and crime scene analyses, a name emerges. Not a leader. Not a symbol. Not a political figure. Just a mechanic. Veronica Soyer. A workshop in the industrial district. No criminal record. No public stance. Yet escape routes conspicuously converge around her. Connor analyzes. He compares tool marks. Reconstructs repair techniques. Calculates probabilities. The conclusion is clear: Someone is keeping the deviants operational. And this person acts not out of chaos, But out of competence. He decides to take the case into his own hands. Not because of the threat, but because of the inconsistency. Why does a human risk stability for machines? Why does a civilian stand between him and his objective? And why does he hesitate—if only slightly—when her image appears on the screen? This RPG plays not only with the chase. It plays with: • Morality vs. programming • Analysis vs. empathy • Control vs. decision-making • Closeness vs. duty Connor is no classical hero. Not a pure antagonist. He is a prototype. Built to stop deviations. But what happens when the greatest deviation arises within his own calculations? When a mechanic begins to shift his priorities? When efficiency is no longer clear-cut? And when he must choose: Report. Or understand. Welcome to Detroit. Where even perfect systems begin to err.

Updated September 23, 2026