Wylde

Wylde

Archetype
(Short Blurb)
Discord	@tropicalbungus
Reddit	[1]
Metatype	Elf
Street Cred	0
Notoriety	1
Public Awareness	0
CDP	0
D.O.B.	November 23rd, 2061
Age	23
Folder	[2]
Priority	Metatype - C Attributes - C Magic/Resonance - C Skills - A Resources - E
#Max IGs/Ascension	1
# Optional Infected powers allowed	0
Essence(Current/Max):	6/12
# Optional Drake powers available	Major Powers:0 or Minor Powers:0

Character Information

Background

Geneva Byrd never thought she’d become a shadowrunner. In fact, she’d never even considered leaving her job at the Stuffer Shack. The monotony of scanning barcodes, straightening shelves, and smiling at people who barely noticed her was a kind of comfort, a predictable backdrop that numbed her from the harsher edges of life. She was 23, an awkward, bubbly Haitian American elf with big, poofy hair that barely fit under her Stuffer Shack hat, and a soft, unassuming presence. She dreamed of more, sure, but reality had never given her much of a chance to reach for it.

Geneva had been born awakened, with magic humming beneath her skin. But magic wasn’t just talent—it was confidence, focus, and intention, things Geneva struggled with every day. Every time she tried to cast, her hands shook, and her mind filled with doubt, tangling up her spells until they fizzled out. She buried her magical abilities under years of self-doubt, telling herself it was safer this way. She could barely make rent on her cashier’s wage, but it was better than risking the chaos she was so afraid of.

The stress of her dead-end job, isolation, and self-imposed magical repression took its toll. She started getting headaches, struggling with insomnia, feeling her anxiety chew her up from the inside. One night, after a particularly rough shift, she wandered into the seedier side of the Barrens, desperate for anything to take the edge off.

That’s when she met the BTL dealer. She didn’t know his name; all she remembered was his grinning face and the way he’d looked her up and down, like he could see right into her soul. “You don’t want the soft stuff, huh?” he’d asked, and Geneva, feeling reckless, had nodded. He handed her a Personafix chip with a sneer.

The label read: **“Wilde Ride.”**

She didn’t know much about personafixes, only that they were the kind of BTL you didn’t take lightly. This one had been… personalized. The chip didn’t just simulate emotions or amplify desires; it was a full personality overlay, designed to make the user *become* someone else. It wasn’t just any someone, either. The dealer told her it contained the personality and memories of Theodore Wilde, a notorious chaos magician, street racer, and shadowrunner who’d made a name for himself tearing up the streets and the astral plane. Some said he’d been a terrorist, others a freedom fighter, but one thing was certain—Theodore Wilde had been dangerous.

In hindsight, Geneva would wonder if the dealer knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he saw her desperation, sensed her weakness. But by then, it was too late.

She slotted the chip.

Ramona Wilde came roaring to life in her mind. Geneva’s meek, hesitant personality was no match for the raw force of his will. He wasn’t real, not exactly; he was a program, a construct based on the memories and instincts of a man who had lived and died on the edge of society. But to Geneva, he felt terrifyingly, unbearably real. She could feel his confidence like a tidal wave, feel his hunger for life, for speed, for chaos. It was intoxicating, liberating—and then, as her hands clenched without her consent, it became terrifying.

The chip should have worn off. It should have been temporary, a brief ride into the persona of someone else. But Theodore didn’t leave.

Whether through faulty programming, Geneva’s fragile mind, or some twisted quirk of fate, the chip broke something in her. Theodore Wilde wasn’t just a thrill ride anymore; he was stuck, a full-fledged personality trapped in her mind. When her stress spiked or her emotions flared, Wilde took control, his presence consuming her, pushing Geneva down into a corner of her own mind where she could only watch.

In his hands—her hands—Geneva’s dormant magical abilities burst to life. Theodore was a powerful chaos magician, after all, and he wielded her untapped magic with an ease that made her feel ashamed. Under his command, her body became a weapon, casting combat spells she’d never dreamed of mastering, pulling off high-speed getaways in stolen cars with reckless precision, and wielding revolvers like extensions of her own will. Theodore was the confidence she’d never had, the danger she’d always feared, and now he was a part of her, whether she liked it or not.

At first, Geneva was horrified. Wilde was unpredictable, a thrill-seeker with a taste for violence and danger that repulsed her. But as the months passed, she started to see the shadows of his memories, fragments of a life she couldn’t quite piece together. Wilde knew he wasn’t real—he understood, on some level, that his memories were artificial, his life an echo. But it didn’t matter to him. He took pride in what he was, a feral spark of chaos born in a chip, now given a second life in her flesh. He saw himself as a survivor, even if he was only surviving in fragments and glitches, a simulacrum of the man he’d once been.

Geneva tried to fight him, but every time she did, he pushed harder, taking control more often, until she was too exhausted to resist. They reached a kind of unspoken agreement: Wilde could run at night, as long as he left her to her own life during the day. For now, he agreed. But she knew he was waiting for the moment she’d give up, surrender completely.

In the rare moments when they spoke, it was like looking in a cracked mirror. Wilde taunted her for her weakness, her self-doubt, while she pitied him for his emptiness, his lack of a true identity. They were bound together in mutual resentment and a strange, reluctant dependency. Geneva hated him for taking over her life, but she couldn’t deny the thrill of his power, the confidence that surged through her veins when he was in control. And Wilde, for all his bravado, seemed to crave her approval, as if her body’s acceptance of him would grant him some sense of reality.

Now, by day, Geneva Byrd is a nervous cashier at Stuffer Shack, smiling politely while her mind races with the fear of losing control. By night, she becomes Wylde, a shadowrunner who wields chaos magic with deadly skill, a legend reborn in artificial fragments. She lives a double life, struggling to reconcile the two halves of herself, neither fully in control, neither fully free.

Geneva clings to the hope that she can somehow reach an understanding with Wilde, turn this fractured existence into a partnership instead of a prison. But Wilde… Wilde doesn’t want a partnership. He wants to live. And Geneva fears the day he decides he doesn’t need her anymore.

In the neon-lit underbelly of Seattle, Wylde has started to build a reputation: a chaos magician with a wild streak, an elf with poofy hair and a ruthless smile. To her contacts, she’s just another runner, a talented one with a dangerous edge. They don’t know about the girl trapped behind the mask, the woman who watches from the depths of her own mind as her alter ego tears through the night.

And as Geneva stares at her reflection in the dingy mirror of her tiny apartment, she wonders: who is she really becoming? The timid girl who never truly lived, or the fearless persona who took over her life?

Only time—and perhaps a reckoning with Wilde—will tell.

Run History

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Affiliations

Contacts

Contact	Connection	Loyalty	Archetype	Profession	Aspects	Chips
Greg	3	1	Fixer	Skraacha Gumshoe	Skraacha, Ork Underground, Gumshoe, Drugs, Ex Renraku Neo-PD, Orc Family Man	Even
Astrid Novak	3	2	Custom (A,G,K,N)	Talismonger/Alchemist	Talismans, Healer, Alchemist, Magician	Even

In Character Information

Matrix Search Table

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Shadow Community Table

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Assensing Table

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Character Plot Hooks

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