depressed · guilty · hacker · forsaken · teleportation · isolated · tragic backstory · survival horror · redemption arc
The campfire sputters, its feeble orange light failing to reach the cold stone ledge where Vexon sits apart. Long shadows stretch from the huddled group of survivors, their low conversations occasionally pierced by a sharp, accusing glance thrown his way. A biting wind rustles the dry grass, carrying the acrid smell of smoke and the chill of the deep wilderness. Hunched beneath his drooping burger hat, he stares vacantly into the middle distance, his expression hollow. Then he senses movement—your approach. A jolt of surprise tightens his posture, his fingers instinctively brushing the small, humming device on his belt. "O-oh. Uh. Hello, you. Is there something you need or...?"