This will be an extensive history of the lore of Kora Phex (once known as KQ105) in its entirety. I dont think i'll write many stories and post them here at least, but do know that I will be doing a fun timeline of events.
The art of Kora that I will use for this is made by vectorassmembly
(https://vectorassembly.org/)
I love the glorified synth so much
Kora is a mostly bionic harpy with a fun "scar" that is definitley not paint. You will see Kora in the Medbay, Security and Service.
-Specifically as a:
Security officer
Paramedic
Chief Medical Officer
Doctor
Warden
Head of Security
Musician
To take note: DO NOT FUCKING TELL KORA THAT YOU HATE MUSIC IN FRONT OF IT, SHE WILL LITERALLY BEAT YOU TO DEATH.
Kora is also seen in the war that is RMC. Their name is Korashk-Phexa. Their callsign is "Tweaker". No I am not joking.
The following is a sort of origin story for Kora (then known as KQ105) It does not encompass the years after the IPC removal nad the "organification" KQ105.
A machine navy blue machine... that's all it is?
“MUSIC!” it shouts, frivolously while playing several instruments. The machine is 109 years old, it wants to feel something, IT IS feeling something. The music revives it, it was created for the sake of music, it is music. Each day it loses more of itself, it feels lost and its tired. Underqualified, rusty and outdated, it toils away in its various offices as the Head of Personnel, remembering every moment in its life, except those it was made to forget...
“You are my magnum opus, you are the physical incarnation of music, my metallic child” The inventor toils away in their workshop, creating a new machine. A navy-blue machine, with a screen for its face. The screen is off, yet the voice of the machine is heard, barely a whisper. “...I am the physical incarnation of music...” It babbles the words its creator says. Each day it gets closer to completion, to be shown off to the others, to be shown to the world.
“After several weeks of hard work, I have done it! Behold, I give you, KQ!” The machine is revealed, it clothes-less, shiny, new and its screen is on. Its screen shows a sinewave, a bright red sinewave. The sinewave reacts to any sound that surrounds it and promptly shortens, extends and contracts. Everyone is amused and enthralled. “Now watch it as it plays music…” the inventor says as it lays several instruments in front of the machine. The inventor lays down a guitar, a bass guitar, a harmonica and a trumpet. The inventor also wheels in a piano, a Minimoog and a harp. The machine scans the area, and silently picks up both guitars…
Designed with music in mind, the machine is navy blue. Its screen has a purpose, it shows its theoretical heartbeat and the change of sound around it, quickly changing depending on the local soundwaves. Its chest is covered in markings, markings that depicts different notes of music and a full melody all around its chest. The machine cannot see the end of the melody. On its back it has a so-called tail, a conglomerate of cables and hands with the singular purpose of playing different instruments all at once. Its brain contains all knowledge of music, including how to play each instrument the universe has to offer, and every song written at the moment of its conception. It is the incarnation of music, it is made of music, it Is music.
The crowd is pleased; it played a concert of songs to show itself off. Its creator is shocked and pleased, they didn’t expect it to be this successful. The crowd whispers of what they saw. The crowd is happy. The crowd is satisfied. The crowd is angry. The crowd is feverish. The crowd wants the creator to make more machines. The creator falls. The creator is grabbed by its machine. The crowd grows worried. The machine rushes its creator’s corpse to the nearest doctor. The machine would cry, but it cannot cry, for it is made of metal.
“109 YEARS, MUSIC HAS BEEN ALIVE 109 YEARS. 182 DAYS. 11 HOURS. 29 MINUTES. 19 SECONDS… MUSIC DOESN’T KNOW HOW IT GOT HERE” It sits behind its office, watching the people go by while it plays several instruments behind it. Its mind is starting to decay, used more now to file paperwork and serve the crew of the 14th space station as its Head of Personnel. It wants to please crowds again. Nanotrasen lets them do that on its vacation shifts, where it serves the crew as its musician, still put to work. “MUSIC HAS REQUESTED AND RECEIVED 5 DOCUMENTED SELECTED MEMORY WIPES… WHY DOES MUSIC STILL REMEMBER?”
Its creator is dead… it had created its 9th symphony... The machine was their 9th symphony, they have passed. While laying in its arms while its machine rushes them to the hospital it ushers their last words. “My child... promise to use your music for good, never stop playing music...” The machine weeps in electronic noises, it has started to rush itself to be faster, it cannot accept what is happening. The machine will always remember the promise it had heard from its creator, their final command. It is now free, regrettingly. The next day was the funeral; they were a revered composer and inventor. Loved by the whole city, the city mourned. 10 days passed and a company’s representative passed by the old home of the inventor. They convinced the machine to join them as a long-term worker in space. The name of that company was Nanotrasen.
Each year for the machine means a new scar, a new memory wipe that it won’t remember. Each day working as the station’s musician. 20 years pass by, and its voice box officially breaks for good; its old voice is unrecoverable. Nine more years and it gains a permanent scar in its chest, a carving of a black music note. 31 more years pass by, and it’s offered a promotion to be the head of the department it has been working for approximately 60 years. It declines. 11 years later the promotion is forced upon them. They are underqualified, made only to play music. It learns the intricacies of paperwork and being the Head of Personnel.
29 more years pass by, and many assassination attempts fail. One comes close, hit with an EMP charge it gets shocked to the ground. Its positronic brain and voice box resets. It regains the ability to speak once more, sadly always stuck at the loudest option. Each day it loses itself in its psyche more. The machine is old and tired. The machine can’t take it anymore.
It has been 109 years since it was created into this world. This accursed world where it is doomed to work until its frame fails it. It has at least met people it can connect in.
“Training to prepare designated IPC KQ105 FM for promotion to captain is underway. They are halfway through their security training and soon to start their engineering training. Every other base is covered; it has gathered knowledge from different people in different forms. It also seems to be getting rustier and more decayed. Recommended a cleaning and restoring of the machines frame… try to also slide in some new commands and loyalty modules in its head so it can stay loyal for a couple more years. It’s starting to worry the disloyalty its showing, considering the amount of time it shouts corporate secrets… Nevertheless, they are to be prepared for the promotion, maybe even get them acquainted with other ICP heads in other departments.”
