Conrad Goodman – The Crimson Reaper

Age: 52
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 232 lbs
Appearance: Short grey hair and beard, weathered and scarred skin, piercing eyes that have seen too much.
Attire: Wears the infamous Crimson Cult armor—a deep crimson armored duster draped over a carbon-red chestpiece, stained by the blood of his victims and the heat of a thousand battles.

"Goodman. Ironic. Ain't nothing good about him."

Conrad Goodman is a name whispered in fear across the Settled Systems. A grizzled war veteran turned ruthless space pirate, he is a product of the carnage he once fought to escape.

Once a soldier in the Frontier Siege of 2288, Goodman was a proud warrior of the Freestar Collective, a believer in something greater than himself. But war does not forge heroes; it breaks men, reshapes them into something crueler. Goodman was one of the lucky ones—he survived. But what came back from that battlefield wasn’t a man. It was a ghost wearing the skin of one. He had seen things in the Siege that could never be forgotten. He had done things that could never be undone.

And when the war ended, there was no home left for him.

So, he made one in the void.

Freestar Collective, United Colonies, the farthest reaches of the Black—Goodman carved a path through them all. He became a curse upon the frontier, a nightmare in red. He did not steal; he took. He did not kill; he erased. He did not make threats; he made examples. Settlers whisper of entire outposts wiped clean in his wake. Ships that disappear into the black, never to be heard from again. The law calls him a terrorist, a butcher, a war criminal. To the pirates of the void, he's a legend—a name that carries weight heavier than any fleet.

Personality & Demeanor

Grim. Heartless. Feared. Gutless.

Goodman does not ask. He does not negotiate. When he speaks, it is not in words—it is in commands. When he moves, it is with the certainty of a man who has never had to ask twice. He does not talk; he barks. He does not plead; he shouts. And when he is heard, there is only one choice—obey, or die.

He has no illusions of grandeur. No grand purpose or misguided cause. There is no speech about freedom, no pretense of rebellion. Goodman does what he does because he can. Because it is what keeps him alive. Because somewhere, deep in that scarred, broken mind, he still needs the war.

And if there is no war left, he will make one.

The Ship: Vulcan-Class Greatsword

A pirate-commissioned masterpiece of death and destruction, Goodman’s Vulcan-Class Greatsword is a ship feared by captains across the frontier. Built not for speed, not for comfort, but for brutality, it is a battering ram in the void, a war machine with one purpose—to dominate.

• Twin Swivel-Mounted Thunder Thrusters – Lacking top speed but unbeatable in thrust and maneuverability. Goodman doesn't run. He doesn't need to.

• Dual Front-Facing EMP Photon Lasers – Shut down target ship systems, leaving them blind, helpless. Makes for easy boarding.

• Single Top-Mounted Railgun (360° Swivel) – Slow recharge, but when it fires? Nothing survives.

• Diversion Flares – For shaking missile locks and targeting systems. Because even a monster needs an escape plan.

Goodman doesn't engage in drawn-out dogfights. He doesn't waste time. He disables his prey, boards them, and leaves nothing but wreckage.

Weapons of a Killer

Conrad Goodman is never unarmed. His weapons are not just tools—they are extensions of him, refined over decades of killing, perfected for one thing: efficiency.

"Helios" - Automatic Plasma Rifle

A masterwork of precision tuning and firepower, Helios is Goodman's weapon of choice when things get messy.

• Precision Tuning – Masterclass accuracy and range. A pirate might spray and pray. Goodman does not miss.

• Acid Vat – Plasma rounds burn through armor like it's paper, leaving behind a slow, agonizing death.

• Drum Mag – 75 rounds. Because reloading in the middle of a massacre is just bad planning.

"Voidhammer" - Ballistic Hand Cannon

When things get personal, Goodman reaches for Voidhammer—a .50 caliber beast of a hand cannon.

• .50 Caliber – When it hits, it leaves a hole big enough to crawl through.

• Gravity Servos – Absurd firepower, zero recoil. Goodman fires it with one hand.

• Single Shot – Manual rechamber after every shot. He doesn’t care. He wants you to see it coming.

Goodman doesn't waste bullets. If he pulls the trigger, you were already dead.

The Legend of Goodman

There are some who believe Conrad Goodman will never die. That he is less a man and more a force of nature—an inevitable storm that passes through the galaxy, leaving ruin in his wake.

There are others who believe that somewhere, deep beneath the callous, bloodstained surface, something human still lingers. That perhaps, in the black void of space, where no gods or laws can reach, Goodman is still searching for something.

A war that never ended.

A ghost he cannot escape.

Or maybe, just maybe... the last chance to prove there is still something good left in him.

But those are just stories.

And Goodman? He doesn’t believe in stories.

Only in blood.