Here's a slew of Frother character ideas, some of them more fleshed out than others. All of them are intended to get away from the notion of "just another lunatic with a claymore." They range from the traditional with slight modifications to the bizarre, some of which may not fit with different people's conceptions of the Frother. It's up to any GM's or player's, obviously, as to whether these validly work for you in your games. Consider this the result of a brainstorming session about what you might do with a Frother character to spice it up. Probably not all of these are actually conducive to being SLOps, really. Some of them have too much else to worry about. Use your imagination, make them NPC's, change them around, fold, spindle, mutilate, what have you. It's a brainstorming list, so go crazy. The entire intent, however, is to breathe anywhere from a little to a lot of individuality into a Frother. So, here are 20 interesting, or not so interesting, variants.

ADOPTED FROTHER

"The Sept has been kind to me. As kind as you could expect for someone who is only a half-blood."

You are a child of the streets, born to a gang family, raised with a fixation on the street drugs which you were only able to buy on the black market. Living for a thrill, you were eventually picked up by Shivers for a minor theft, intended to hook you up with the means for another fix. Passed through a series of tests by SLA Industries, you've now found a safe place for yourself inside the Sept of a moderately sized Frother Clan. You're still getting your bearings; you aren't much good with a Power Claymore, and have a fondness for the nice automatic firearms you used to see only on TV. The rest of the Sept sometimes gives you a hard time, and you know better than to open your mouth to a full-blood Clan member; to many of them, you are nothing more than genetic fodder until you prove your worth. You have big dreams, but you've yet to make the scene. Operative status is where you think you might shine, but you're still getting the hang of life in the Clans. You are also learning just how wonderful it is to have regular access to Blaze UV, and will probably become something of an addict very shortly.

ARBITER OF JUSTICE

"Are you so foolish as to think yourself exempt from the law? We are bound by more than blood and a name!"

A true scion of your Clan, you are obssessed with the ancient traditions of the family. You defer to elders always, and are considered wise beyong your years by them. To your peers, however, you are either a stick-in-the-mud with no appreciation of how to have a good time, or a cold unfeeling judge, too ready to mete you the Law to anyone who steps over the line even once. In your heart, you know that the Clans will only succeed if they maintain their traditions; you are skilled in the history of the Frothers, and know all too well the painful lessons of those who forget their heritage and brotherhood. You love your Clan too much to see it fail, and so you maintain the stoic and rugged exterior while others party, fight, and maintain the spirit of the Clan. You see yourself as indespensible, but sometimes feel left out of the good times, always forced to watch from the fringes.

ASPIRANT SHAPESHIFTER

"Once, we walked in many forms. It is the bear's rage which runs through us, and the wolf's savagery which makes us unstoppable. To be one of us, you must have eyes like the carrion crow, you must leap like the stag, you must learn to hunt once more."

You learned the legends as a child about the old ways, about those who had the animal powers within them, and the drugs you have taken convince you that their power could be yours, if only you would learn to open yourself to it. You are sly and savage, a creature of cunning, drawn to a more simple way of life. Fascinated by Wraith Raiders for their feral nature, you are also drawn to the Vevaphons: if only you had their power to alter your shape! You have used what money you've made to purchase a series of Karma enhancements to add animalistic features to your body, but still there is something lacking. For now, you pride yourself on your back to nature style of living; you are a predator within the steel forests of Downtown, a servant of SLA Industries and the Clans alike. You regularly take combat drugs to enhance your feelings of animal savagery, and enjoy the occasional psychedelics, as well.

AVENGING FURY

"Blood will have blood..."

Your Sept was slain in a Thresher raid on the factories in Downtown, one of which was abandoned and serving as a temporary home to your family. You loost everyone in the bloodbath, and barely survived yourself. Once you were released from the hospital, you knew your destiny was clear; the spilled blood cries out to you, and you demand vengeance. You have an unreasoning hatred of Thresher, and will throw yourself into conflict with them against all odds, not necessarily with the intent of surviving, though certainly to take as many of them with you as possible. Your dreams are haunted with the screams your fallen kinsmen, and you will probably never forgive yourself for "failing them." You carry your father's sword, and burn for a chance to split his murderers open on it. Now a full-time Operative, you see SLA as just an avenue for your vengeance, and will obssessively take BPN's bringing you into conflict with Thresher. People on the street are probably starting to talk about the intense Frother dressed all in black who fights like a man possessed against powersuits. You are frequently strung out on UV and other amphetamines, as sleep isn't all that restful for you anyway. You are a definite candidate for early Frother burnout.

BEAST-SLAYER

"I will bring back the thing's head by morning. We shall not endure another night at its mercy."

You are a member of a small but close-knit Sept, whose home is dangerously near Cannibal Sector Two. You have become used to the occasional problems with carriens, mutant species, and carnivorous pigs. You're actually starting to enjoy the clash and fray with these creatures, though you don't let on all that much. Still, you recieve much credit for the beasts you dispatch, and are frequently honored at celebrations. As far as your Operative status, you are strictly small-time, and use your Op position chiefly to have access to better weaponry and gear, but you take Street Maintenance BPN's more than anything else. Other Ops think you're a nutcase, but what can you expect from Frothers? Among your people, however, you are vital to the day-to-day success of your Sept, and can expect regular praise. Your drug habits are hardly that extreme, though the occasional blast of combat drugs can mean the difference between success and failure against the beasts you face within the slimy corridors and stinking subway systems. Your knowledge of the local underground is becoming fairly impressive from these extended forays.

CHIEFTAIN'S CHILD

"Yes, yes, I know, but we must think of the good of the Clan, as well! Don't you see how your actions might jeopardize our position? We must take care..."

You are the child of a Chieftain of your Clan, and it has always been clear to you that you will inherent some of your father's power. He has instructed you by example, and you know it is your obligation to make and maintain political alliances for the future. You are still young, but the weight of responsibility is already heavy on you. You do go mad in battle, but you often bring yourself out of it while others of your kin surrender entirely to the red rage. You must look out for the good of the Clan, and you try and reign in a large, unweildy group that resists you at every turn. You lack much clout, but you have vision, and you take yourself more seriously than most of your kinsmen. You regularly walk a difficult tight-rope; you must win the respect of the elders by good strategy, but must maintain strong ties to your kin by indulging in the violence and mayhem that they enjoy. Too far to either extreme, and you fail. You are not a natural leader, but you are trying desperately to succeed. Perhaps you will, but only time will tell.

CLAN PUSHER

"I tell you, this is the life. There's no better arrangement than keeping it all in the family. And the company."

You were born a Clan scion like any other, but quickly developed a refined sense of what you liked to put into your body, and an interest in the politics which maintained your Clan's extensive habit. You hung with the older kinsmen, those who kept avenues of communication and sales open between your Clan and SLA Industries itself. When you were old enough, you became a supplier for your Clan, and now you are a steady source of narcotics for your kinsmen. This keeps you socially connected to your Clan in a different way than most, and means that you've had to learn some of the finer points of SLA Industriest and business. Maybe you have a future as an Op, but for now, the situation is ideal. You can relax and enjoy the bounty of your labors, and at the same time, you are personally responsible for the contentment of the rest of your Clan. You demand quality from SLA Industries, and offer reasonable deals to all of your kin; after all, they're your family.

DISHONOURED ROGUE

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just finish this BPN and collect our pay, okay?"

You were a Clan scion who fell into dishonour for one reason or another; perhaps your stole from a Clan-mate, or challenged a superior and failed. Whatever the reason, you were branded an outcast, and have never returned from your exile. You took a job as an SLA Operative; after all, you have skills that they want, whether you wear a tartan or not. You may maintain some elements of Frother dress, though any sort of Clan marking or insignia was stripped of you. You know better than to try and recreate them, lest you face violent reprisal from your Clan (not to mention the threat of copyright infringement lawyers from SLA's legal branch). You are now a hired gun, trained in a variety of combat techniques, and you do regularly ingest an unhealthy diet of combat drugs. Though you possess the traditional Frother rage, you try and direct it so that you seem more like a sociopathic gunsman than a raging clansman; you're not sure how to reconcile what you are with what you've forced to become. You are extremely uncomfortable in the presence of other Frothers, and occasionally recieve nasty looks from your former kinsmen when you see them.

FIREFIGHT CLOWN

"Hey, Thresher! Over here, dickweed!! Yeah, come on, I ain't got all day, get that Sarge suit turned around, fatass!!"

Some think you're a psychopath, but you know the score. You're tougher and quicker than the dink humans in your Squad, and that means you've got to keep them alive. No one else has the skill for it, so what you do is draw fire to you. Yes, you actually encourage the enemy to come after you, ducking and weaving, laughing all the while, hurling insults and repeat-fire alike. You're a rodeo clown from hell, but in the inimitable Frother style. Your Squad-mates, sensing your unique views on life, have become masters of sneaking up on occupied enemies and nailing them from behind. You are a Frother Op to the nines, but you can be a little more focused than some of the raving psychopaths. You are less of a combat monster and more of a capering lunatic, a quick striker rather than a hack-and-slash freak. You bolster your own confidence with UV and similar combat drugs, leaping into and out of the fray with no concern for your own safety. At heart, you are a prankster who lives on the edge, and you enjoy it most when your commrades praise you for the risks you take to keep them safe.

FROTHER MODERNIST

"Claymore? Oh, I must have left it in my other jacket. Wait, what's this? BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!!!!!"

You have gotten with the times, and don't understand why the rest of your Clan can't get the drift. Your ratty dreadlocks are pulled back so that they don't hang in front of your chrome sunglasses, and your long black jacket is more stylish than any kilt those other losers wear. Sure, armour is nice, but there's no reason to make it so obtrusive. Your Frother heritage makes you a killing machine, death on wheels, but the rage works equally as well with a Blitzer in each hand, spewing semi-automatic death at your enemies. You envision yourself as a modernist Frother, though your kinsmen see you as a nutcase. You are obssessed with style, and more than a little vain; most of the trappings of Clan status are worn so that you don't get hassled by your kinsmen. You spend little time in contact with the Clan, but you don't show them any disrespect, either. Your relations with other Frothers tend to be awkward; you wish they could learn to mellow out while in clubs and save all that craziness for the backstreets.

GANG BERZERKER

"We will crush the Red Sabres for this... heinous violation of our turf. Yes. Crush them. I will drink their blood from their skulls. Mmmmmmmm. Warm blood. Empty skull. Refill."

Born a Frother without a Clan, you have lived as a gang member for your entire life. Your violent episodes and unhealthy black market drug habits make even the members of your own gang nervous. No one rests easy around you, because they know your psychotic loyalty and tendencies towards animal torture could flare up at any time. They'd get rid of you if they thought they could, but the fear that you'd come back and kill them keeps all but the toughest members of your gang at bay. Someone may try and foist you off on a Clan somehow, and breaking your gang loyalty might not be easy, but you will become an obssessive devotee of any Clan or Sept that takes you in, recreating yourself as a servant of their traditions entirely. Your social skills are questionable (you talk about killing people a lot, which makes most normal people nervous), and you do drool a fair amount, and pound your fist into your open hand angrily. You are strung out on black market combat drugs as is, and will soon find yourself a constant junkie if put into regular contact with any Clan.

HEDONISTIC GOOD-TIMER

"You've got to keep it cool, man. Like those 'Wasters on Beat. Look at them smile, man. Blissed out to cloud nine. It's all copacetic, y'know, man. What, you've never tried Beat? Here, hold on..."

At heart, you're much more laid back than the average Frother. You can go crazy when you need to, but who needs to? There's much better ways of solving the problem. Everyone needs to sit back, take a few pills, and stop taking themselves so seriously. Sure, you've got a power claymore, but you're not the first one to draw, ever. You enjoy the social scene too much to hack it to pieces, and are out in the clubs every night. For those Frothers who realize it, you are a brilliant street contact, and you pick up a lot of rumours long before anyone else in your Clan does. While other Frothers kick around on UV all day, you come loaded with doses of Personal Interest and enough Flip to incapacitate several Carriens. You do have a keen interest in trying new chemicals, but you don't tend to frequent those which bring out your crazed side. All right, so maybe sometimes it's okay to go a little nuts, but it tends to ruin the party when you do.

LOREMASTER

"The history of our people must be maintained. When we forget, when we go into the sleep that the humans are in, then all is lost. Our stories are sacred, and I maintain them, whether my kinsmen appreciate it or not."

You are an obssessive collector of lore, and knowledgable in the traditions of your Clan. While you are also a Frother Operative, and regularly employ yourself with BPN's and the activities of your Squad, you've always made it clear that you will not miss a Ceilidh or a festival for the sake of a job. You love your family and feel great pride towards your Clan, and always fear that your history might be stolen from you. All around you, you see humans who have no tradition, no lore, and thus no direction in life. They are adrift within the World of Progress, and you fear the media machine of SLA Industries, though you do not speak on this matter. You avoid television, but are skilled in all manner of information storage, and regularly seek to record the oral traditions and stories of your Clan. You feel the greatest pride when the elders and Chieftains consult with you as a peer. You often seek to share your knowledge of your clan's history with others; the consumate storyteller, you address others with respect to their lineage, increasing the overall pride of your Clan, and reminding your kin of their ancient traditions and heritage. You are also full of the wisdom of the Frothers, which other races sometimes find slightly less than wise.

MODERN BARD

"I have dreams, and those dreams inspire me to make my music. I sing about what I feel... the adrenaline screaming in my veins, the power of combat, the thrill of life, the fear of death."

You are a bard for the modern age, a Frother touched by art. Always drawn to poetry as a young child, you now have a small band which plays the local club cicruit. You are something of a star among local Frother youth, who feel something in your songs which they haven't heard in other musicians. Playing on stage makes you as crazy as combat does, though in a different way. There's a wild dark rage that rips through you on stage, different from the blinding bright one of battle. Your human fan base is amusing, but can't keep up with your lifestyle, you realize. You've broken three human girlfriends, but then, humans aren't as durable as your kind. You've written songs about each of them, the one that commited suicide, the one that OD'ed, and the one who is still in a coma. Outraged suburban parents, whose children idealize and worship you, see you as a threat, but the force of your Clan and SLA Industries is behind you. For right now, you are living your life and having a great time, but you dream of bigger things. You've got to get your message out to more people, to experience things as they do and learn to reach them, also.

PSYCHEDELIC SEER

"I have consulted with the founders, spoken to their cold shades in the Otherworld. For three nights I have come to them, and each time, the message is the same. Our path is now clear to me."

You were always the spooky kid in the Clan, always made the other kids nervous. You thought they were silly and superficial, and anyhow, you had other friends. Exposed to powerful company psychedelics at an early age by your sister, you learned that there was an Otherworld, a spiritual reflection of ours, all around us. The dead spoke to you, and animal spirits, and creatures within the ground, and in the walls of your home. You learned their secret languages, and ingested more and more varied hallucinogens, all with the intent of breaching the gap between the flesh and the spirit. Now, you act as a counselor to the Chieftains of your Clan. Your predictions have an eerie likelihood of coming true, and you believe your visions whole-heartedly. Some Frothers dismiss you as nothing more than a drug-crazed fool, but even Ebons are sometimes alarmed at the nature of your mind. You are cryptic, and sometimes speak in rhyme, or stare off into space. Part burn-out, part clairvoyant, you are looked upon as a pivotal mystical figure within your Clan, and your advice carries much weight with its leaders.

RABBLE-ROUSER

"Will you guys get up?! Honestly! Come on, you're not that hung over, and we've got things to do. You know there's going to be hell to pay if we're not at the festival by noon..."

You are a people person in a Clan full of psychpathic drug users. This would flap some people, but not you. A chameleon by nature, you know how to work the room, even when it's a room full of Frothers strung out on Blaze UV who haven't slept in six days. Smooth without being condescending, you know these guys because you live with them all the time, and do everything that they do. When there are problems, you propell yourself into the middle, and try and alleviate the situation. This entire Clan would come apart at the seams if it weren't for you, at least as far as you're concerned. You can rage with the best of them, but you shine in matters of diplomacy. You're not a leader by nature, but you like to be involved. If not consulted on what's going on, you might even inspire small revolutions, dissent in miniature to satisfy your desire to show your detractors up. In all honesty, you love your Clan, and don't see yourself at all as manipulative; you know that they feel the bonds of kinship as strongly as you do, but sometimes the lab quality killer narcotics simply get in the way.

"REINCARNATED" HERO

You have always felt different, an outsider among your Clan. The world always seemed strange to you, and you had the voice and eyes of an older soul than your age bespoke. Only through listening to the loremasters of your Clan did you silently come to the conclusion that you are one of the ancient souls of your Clan reborn. You have told almost no one of this, fearing the natural reaction you would be greeted with. Still, this is a secret treasure you hold in your heart, and you now stand among your kinsmen with a new pride and a bond to them that you never had as a child. You are the Don Quixote of the Frother class, and enjoy things with an archaic feel to them, often reducing stimuli around you to older, simpler concepts. However, you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss on a grander scale; the World of Progress makes your nervous, and you are not sure what your calling is. Surely a hero such as yourself must have a calling in this world, but what is it? For now, you avidly pursue scraps of old stories and legends, but you actively denounce any information which makes the old great ones seem anything less than perfect; you know the truth, and the founders were true heroes, nothing less. Anything else is blasphemy.

SACRED FOOL

"Round and round the children dance, and oh, what a lovely fire the old deadface has made for them, but some say none of the kindling was real, and anyhow, there's a cold, cold rain coming to wash it all away. An ugly storm, and a bitter cold..."

You were born touched, a fey child, mad from the start. Perhaps it was the chemicals your parents took, but you had little control over what you saw and what you said. Your glassy stare made others nervous, and you were without a doubt mad as a porridge knife. In a human home, you would have been institutionalized, but the Frothers had old traditions about such chidren. You were raised in privilege, your erratic habits regarded as gifts. At the appropriate age, you became a truthsayer for your Clan, and in your more lucid moments, you have a rapier wit which cuts to the quick. While dreamy, you are overcome by images you don't understand, and babble away, unable to interpret, merely conveying what you know is truth. You are a sacred figure to your Clan, and though you fight well alongside them, they will not allow you to come to harm easily. When enraged, you are a shrieking dervish, leaping and clawing at your opponents. Other Frothers both fear and respect your powers, and none may harm a fool for what he says. An Ebon who trades regularly with your Clan has become fascinated with you, but you have little concerns for the ebb and flow of her lifestyle.

SOUL-IN-MOURNING

"More of us are called the open arms of death every day. The battle-cry of my people is a keening wail, and nothing more. Our best hope is glorious death in combat, and the eternal rest which comes after."

The opposite of the manic happy Frother, the Soul-In-Mourning is a regular ingester of all manner of sedatives and depressants. Hooked on a gloomy view of life as well as a nasty number of downers, he rages not with a vicious fury, but a desperate sense of loss. Other Frothers find you moody and impossible sometimes, but you can't help it. It is your nature to see the dark side of life, raised on Mort in the perpetual howling rain. You have felt damned from the start, and your nightmares about your own death and that of your friends are little comfort. You fight with desperate fury, and tears roll down your face as your claim victim after victim in a senseless orgy of blood and malice. The World of Progress has gotten to you, and you know that there is no escape.

VIGILANT CLANSWOMAN

"Greetings, sister. Have you come to see the error of their ways, to join us when we stand together, to fight for what is yours by rights of blood and steel?"

Raised the only daughter of a Chieftain with nine sons, you have watched your kinsmen with a mixture of curiosity and anger for years. Tired of the secondary role of the women in your Clan, you are working to fan the flames of sisterhood and establish the authority and autonomy of the Clan's sisters. In the mysognistic and violent society of the Frothers, your work is cut out for you. Your brutish brothers and cousins sometimes laugh at you, or even more actively stand in the way, but you are quick with a gun and stalwart with a claymore, and enough of a match for any of them. You do not tolerate anything more than passing chauvanism, and will call out other Frothers for challenge if they abuse your rights or those of your spiritual sisters. Your dream might be to form a matriarchal Sept connected to your Clan, or establish yourself as an independant Frother woman in the media spotlight, maybe even form a Squad out of your sisters. You have the Frother rage, but it is often more directed, and you tend to become irrationally violent around men who abuse or take advantage of women. You tread a dangerous political line among a group not ready for such enlightened ideas.