There is a saying that when you have a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail. As sayings go, this one too can be interpreted in various ways, some of which seem deeper or more insightful than others. In one of the more obvious views it illustrates propensity of someone who has gained a new instrument developing an inkling to put it to use even in circumstances where a different approach would be preferable. The metaphor could easily be stretched even further, to include not only tangible tools, but also formal or informal authority, or perhaps distinctive paradigms and frames of mind.

Of course by that point the original metaphor becomes stretched and diluted to the point where one could be better served by finding a different one. Perhaps this is a point where we’ve placed the metaphor into position of the hammer.

Be that as it may, there is going to be a lot of hammers laying around this construction site, yourself being one of them.

This is story of the space archaeologist and freelancer Henri Ford and his valiant crew – Tufferson Kris, a fellow xenoarcaheologist, Lea’Fari nar Namek, a maiden undergoing her rite of passage, and Eve Ferrum, a woman built to be able to get where she is not supposed to go.

Presently, you are <span class="mu-b">Eve Ferrum</span>, an explorer, a friend, a seeker – and a machine. Synthetic woman tracing your heritage from Systems Alliance secret projects through reverse engineered Reaper technology, Cerberus perfidy and once again desperate Alliance scramble to adapt and perfect every resource at its disposal.

A lot had happened in the brief time between your first activation and the present day. After a brief period you could with some imagination call your childhood in a secret Alliance lab on Tyr you were thrust directly into the thick of the fighting against the Reapers in a desperate struggle for survival.

Even though you had honestly not expected to outlast them, fighting at the side of your makers gave you a sense of purpose, that had gradually developed into something more than just desire to see your primary objective fulfilled. You’ve learned of the dreams and hopes your fighting comrades kept carrying despite all odds stacked against them, sometimes to the bitter end; you’ve learned of the bonds they formed among each other, and even against the backdrop of your primary functionalities you’ve come to adopt something from that time into your core.

And it was a good thing that you did, as when the Reapers have been eradicated by the ever mysterious superweapon devised across multiple extinction cycles in a manner that skirted realm of mysticism, it was those fragments of your self that kept you alive.