Eugene Mason

User: Matt
Campaign: Defunct Gas Balls
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class/Level: Mechanic/1
Theme: Roboticist
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Ship Role: Pilot
Home world: Absalom Station (The Spike)
Deity: Desna
Physical Description: 35 years old, 6’1”, 230 lbs - burly with a bit of “beer belly”. Left arm, leg, and eye are prosthetic.
Other Info: Don't call him Eugene. Mason is his preferred moniker, but he will answer to Gene as well.
Born on Absalom Station, Eugene Mason set out for the wider galaxy as soon as he could. Lying about his age he got a job with a mining company in the Diaspora. After working his way up to pilot he was seriously injured and the company dropped him.

His skills as a pilot attracted the attention of a archaeologist and the two became friends. When the archaeologist decided to leave his university for the greener pastures of the Starfinder society Mason followed him.
Flashback Intro:
We zoom in on his eyes and the scene shifts to the small cockpit of a well-equipped cargo transport. Buttons, switches and screens litter the surroundings, and a large, curved view screen stands in place of a window. Displayed there, along with statistics for the ship, is a vast sea of stars. In the bottom right of the screen blinks the phrase

“Maximum Zoom.” In the center of the display we see a green X with a square around it and a label: “Unknown Source.”

“What am I doing here?” mumbles the pilot, to no one in particular. We see the name “Eugene Mason” plastered on his flight suit, and the unmarred face of a young man. Time passes and the distance marker on the unknown source counts down the kilometers. Silence fills the cockpit, though a popular Vesk metal band is queued up on the cockpit audio system, the title “Pact This, Mother Fucker” next to a pause symbol. Suddenly, alarms sound on the screen to Eugene’s left and he jumps in surprise, looking over to see the problem. “Oh shit…” he whispers a moment later, his face paling as he deftly types commands into the guidance system. The cargo transport whips around and Eugene is thrown sideways against his harness as the ship accelerates in a wide arc. On the screen, three red markers trace from the green X, still labeled “Unknown Source.” Eugene is thrown back against his flight seat as the cargo ship completes its arc and burns away from the red markers. Two more markers appear on the screen as Eugene types frantically on the console.

“If anyone can hear this, may day, may day, I’m being attacked by unknown aggressors. This is cargo transport Abstraction Gamma in sector 193. I repeat, mayday, mayday, I’m—“

Eugene cuts off suddenly as the red markers near and he realizes it’s too late for any help; a claxon blares throughout the small cockpit, numbing in its intensity. He freezes for a moment, uncertain of what to do, knowing that there’s nothing he can do. Then, slowly, he types in a command as we zoom out of the cockpit. We see the cargo transport for the first time, a grayish metallic ship with a red logo stenciled on the port side reading “Astral Extractions” and “Abstraction Gamma” in smaller blue letters just below. Suddenly, the back 80% of the ship dislodges from the command module as it ejects its cargo. A moment later, three missiles strike this ejected mass and the view fills with a blinding white light. As the light fades we see the face of an older, scarred Eugene and we’re back in the transport shuttle.