Rifts: A Life Less Ordinary
Dr. Mendeleev Atticus
Appearance: Dr. Mendeleev Atticus is a myopic, eccentric human who vibrates with inwardly-focused manic energy. He is a tall, thin man who looks 10-15 years older than his actual age, and usually slouches when he shuffles around his lab. His spectacles are cola-bottle-strength industrial goggles that give his eyes a ridiculous, anime-character appearance. Though he works in a lab coat and looks professional during the day, his bedclothes are very old-timey: long nightshirt, slippers, and stocking cap.
Build: Thin, frail-looking
Hair: Long, stringy and black with shocks of grey. Frequently unbrushed.
Personality: Dr. Atticus is always thinking, always coming up with ideas about the next generation of human (and other beings) enhancement. Because of his preoccupation with his profession (and he is a very good cyber-doc), his social skills are underdeveloped and he frequently seems dismissive of other people’s problems or downright rude. Contrary to popular belief, however, Dr. Atticus cares very deeply for humanity and its freedom to transcend their biological/physiological limits through cybernetic and bionic enhancement. It is this core belief that inspires him to give the occasional discount on his services to those patients willing to accept experimental parts or otherwise subject themselves to Dr. Atticus’ biomechanical oddities.
Atticus’ voice resembles that of Hunter S. Thompson and he speaks as if he is always on some kind of stimulant and, occasionally, hallucinogen.
Information: Dr. Atticus is one of Babel‘s resident cyber-docs. While sketchy and eccentric, Dr. Atticus is the least corrupt and unethical of Babel’s underground medical service providers. He is always experimenting with the next generation of cybernetics, bionics, and bio-systems, and because of his need for parts and patients/test subjects, he offers adventurers cash or services in exchange for any mechanical parts brought to him, no questions asked. And even though he is helpful and sympathetic, he will also accept any organs brought to him, even fewer questions asked. And they needn’t be human.
Atticus’ lab/workshop is a scrapyard of unsorted parts, works in progress, and abandoned projects. His operating theatre is clean, if disorganized, and has a dozen computer displays on flexible arms going every which way. Two large operating tables dominate the centre of the room and the walls are lined with tool chests, filing cabinets, and other containers. On the floor are various electrical generators, diagnostics consoles, and rolling trays. There are a couple of scrubbing stations, a decontamination shower, and cleaning sinks all crammed into one corner. Access to the operating theatre is through a pair of swinging doors which, it was recently discovered, do not block sound at all.
The walk-in freezer is full to bursting with body parts of every size and description, with more coming in every week. Atticus has very low turnover for biological parts, so most of the older pieces are either discarded, sold to some of the more monstrous or cannibalistic D-Bees living in and around Babel, or sold to one of the Body Fixers in the area.
Dr. Atticus’ workshop resembles a scrapyard more than anything, with parts piled high on every horizontal surface, lining the walls, and filling several carts to overflowing. The good doctor is generally apathetic towards people browsing the workshop, but is insistent that no one touch his “project,” which occupies the central part of one of the workshop’s walls. It appears to be a suit of power armour or combat cyborg body, whose arms are lined with curved vibro-blades.
Dr. Atticus is the primary cybernetics service provider to several of Babel’s gangs.