Universe Lock: DC Multiverse (Gotham Instance v13.7.0.6b)
User Reassignment Status: ERROR 203 – UNAUTHORIZED SOUL OVERRIDE.
Override accepted. Proceeding with emergency build...
[BODY CONFIGURATION] What will you look like?
Gender Identity:
☐ Female ☑ Male ☑ Non-Binary ☐ Fluid ☐ Custom
Physical Template:
Height: 5'11"
Build: Lean Athletic
Voice: Mid-range, slightly raspy
Customizations:
Eye Colour: Green
Hair: Midlength, tousled, black dyed, dark red natural
Scars: Facial scar (optional toggle: ☐ Visible / ☑ Hidden)
Mouth: Lips full
Teeth: White, sharpened Canine teeth
Cosmetic notes: Model selected from "Post-Apocalyptic Prodigy" pack. This character model will attract attention.
"It's like The Sims if the expansion pack was Trauma™," I say, allowed into the void as I click through the different options, seeing things that would feel weird to add to a new body.
But oh, what the hell, I went through the cost of getting tattoos in my last life and who knows if I'll even find a decent artist in Gotham.
Adding tattoos to my new body, reminiscent of the ones I had before, and a few inspired by my D&D character, whom I was basing my new body off.
[PSYCHE / MORALITY CORE] The type of person you will be.
Alignment Matrix:
☑ Chaotic Neutral
I'd played Enough DnD to know not to lock myself into a strict alignment, especially in a place as morally grey as Gotham, though it would have been fun to try something else, I guess these options are locked based on how I lived in my previous life.
Psych Profile Add-Ons:
Survivor Instincts
Sarcastic Inner Monologue
Gender Euphoria: Persistent
PTSD: Latent
Behavioural Buffs:
Quick Thinking
Hyperfocus
[BACKGROUND BUILDER] You must choose where you will begin.
Origin Point:☑ Gotham City (District: Newtown, Gotham Train Station)
Affiliations:
Unknown
History Seed:
"Parents were recently killed in an accident."
"Isolated from peers, sent away to boarding school."
Narrative Threads (choose 1+): Who will you be?
☐ Estranged child of a minor villain
☑ Gotham University Student (Born in the city)
☐ Amnesiac survivor of a meta-human experimentation program
☐ Accidental witness to something bigger
☐ ??? (Randomised)
'I am not getting on the radar of the bats that quickly, honestly, dead parents, tidy inheritance and an excuse of why I don't know anyone is the best way.' I just want to live.
[POWER LOADOUT SELECTION] You have been given a way to survive, what will it be?
Power Source Type:
☐ Meta-Gene
☑ Magic Affinity
☐ Alien Hybrid
☐ Tech-Based Augmentation
☐ Contractual Entity (Warning: Permanent)
☑ Glitched Build [Developer Access: emergency build] (Type: D&D 5e)
(User possesses access to abilities not intended for civilian-class reincarnates.)
Primary Power Slot:
☑ Cleric (Inconsistent Output – see BUG REPORT 441)
Secondary Power Slots:
☑ Vampiric Changeling (Passive) – User has experience in this power type through previous experience
☑ Hybrid Interface (D&D Character sheet, Sim's Buildmode, Minimap, etc)
Tertiary Mutation:
☐ Not Selected
**BUG REPORT 441**: Cleric powers without the presence of a deity.
In place of a deity for required spells - Gotham City.
[FINALIZE CHARACTER?]
WARNING: Character build cannot be altered after entry.
Systems indicate:
Incomplete Class Tree
2 Glitch Flags
Morality Tracker Unstable
Soul Residue Detected
Enter Name:
[ Caspian Echo]
"Names have power. Guess I'm going all in on living like I'm my own DnD character. "
Confirm Upload?
[YES – Enter Gotham]
[NO – Delete Self]
System Override Accepting Choice In... 00:05...
"Well, guess there's no going back now, not that I got much of a choice. I hope I atleast get one of the versions of Gotham with Tim Drake or Jason Todd, rather than the TV show or the Robert Pattinson Batman." I mutter as I watch the timer slowly tick down.
---
The holographic lights dim to darkness as pain etches its way through the soul, transforming it, adapting it, to the selections chosen. As they are moulded and forced upon the body that was made for them.
Not pain as in fire, but more like a slow blistering frostbite, running through their veins as they settle into the new body, their body. Sat at a table on a train that was soon to reach the platform.
[SYSTEM FINALIZATION COMPLETE — WELCOME TO GOTHAM]Build: Caspian Echo v1.0.0.0 (Unstable)Narrative Thread: Gotham University Student – Department of Occult Studies (Unofficial)Alignment Drift: Actively tracking...Soul Signature: Echoed / Not Recognised by Any Known Pantheon
The Gotham Transit Authority train screeches softly, a familiar sound muffled by the distant thrum of a heartbeat. Cold neon flickers off the smudged window as he opens his eyes, staring at his reflection in the murky glass — green eyes glinting faintly, a hint of inhuman shimmer. The tattoos feel like memories more than art. The full lips quirk just slightly into a smirk as something like reality reboots around him.
The voice of the conductor drones over the intercom like the narrator of a noir novel who's seen too much:
"Now arriving — Gotham City, Newtown Station. Watch your step. Don't make eye contact."
As the train pulls into the station, something hums inside his bones. Not magic. Not entirely.Cleric powers without a god are a paradox, and Gotham seems perfectly content to be Caspian's god instead.The city that breaks people, or rebuilds them crooked.
As he collects his bags and takes a step off the train. Looking down at the platform towards the exit. Weaving his way through the crowd of those getting on the train to leave the city in the damp early morning air. Pain still thrummed through his body.
---
I stepped out into Gotham's breath, thick, heavy, and vaguely metallic like blood left too long on concrete. The platform lights flickered overhead in a rhythm I couldn't tell was random or deliberate. It didn't matter. I could almost tell this city had a way of making everything feel like it meant something, even if it didn't. But I suppose that comes with the territory now, Fiction is Reality.
My boots hit the tile with a dull clap, and I adjusted the strap of the black leather bag slung over my shoulder. Inside was a laptop, documentation, for my inheritance and university admission. A few changes of clothes, the rest had been sent ahead to the apartment my parents had left for me. It was weird having memories shoved into my head, but I'll admit it made it easier to adapt. Though I felt a wave of sadness at the fact that this body's parents went down in a plane accident on their way to attend a graduation ceremony. I suppose they may have lived if I had made different choices.
Things are different when you're deciding on your new life, like a game character, though.
I caught my reflection in one of the station's dirty glass panels as I passed. Tousled black hair, a few streaks of dark red showing through like old blood under the black dye. Green eyes that glowed just faintly in the wrong kind of light. Lips too full not to draw attention, canines just sharp enough to raise questions, if someone looked too closely.
I looked like I belonged here. Or like I was about to go missing. Though I suppose that made sense in a way, I had been born in Gotham, in this life, but away since I was a teenager. I would have to adapt again either way.
I climbed the steps two at a time, my breath puffing out in ghosted fragments under the dull sodium lights. Above me, Gotham unfolded like a bruise blooming across the sky—grey, ugly, alive. Buildings clawed at the clouds. The distant screech of tires echoed like a threat. Somewhere, a siren wept. And underneath it all, the city itself hummed in my bones.
That frostbite sensation hadn't left—not pain, not exactly. Just... recalibration. Magic without a god had to come from somewhere. I suppose no magical reincarnation could solve that. And it seemed Gotham was more than willing to fill the void.
I reached the street. Stood there for a second. The wind tugged at my coat like a stray animal. I could feel something shift inside me, like the last puzzle piece locking into place.
I tugged my coat tighter, the weight of it familiar even if the body underneath it wasn't. Like I was still stretching to fill the shape I'd picked, every footstep slightly too loud, every muscle just a beat off from natural. I was taller than I was before. Though this body had muscle memory, it was still an odd sensation to walk with longer strides than I was used to.
The streets were half-awake. Traffic crawled, horns muttered curses, and Gotham's usual morning crowd drifted past me like ghosts with somewhere to be. I blended in. Mostly. One or two people looked too long, eyes snagging on something they couldn't quite name. Though I suppose that could just be that I wasn't one of the normal people on their route, or that I had to keep stopping off to the side to check I was going the right way. It seemed anxiety hadn't left me alone in this life either.
Under the guise of looking at my phone, I saw a flicker in my peripheral vision. A minimalist compass pulsed faintly at the edge of my sight, pointing toward Gotham National Bank - Branch 07B. My Inheritance documents needed to be verified in person. A safety measure, based on what I had memories of reading, I would have to check over everything and this new system once I was alone.
I let the HUD fade and started walking. It was nice that it knew where I wanted to go, a bonus, I suppose, that it's in my head after all. My boots scuffed against the pavement as I made my way past the few open shops.
The bank was a few blocks away, tucked between a shuttered nightclub and a pharmacy that hadn't updated its signage since 1998. But I wasn't heading straight there. Not without coffee. Not today, I know this body was adapted to me and what or whoever was running it before I got it clearly liked caffeine as much as I used to.
I spotted it halfway down the street—a squat little corner café with fogged-up windows and a neon sign that buzzed weakly: "Oracle Grounds." Cute. Probably unlicensed use of the name. Definitely not run by the Oracle. But if it was unlicensed use, it means I was definitely in some version of the DC universe where they had the characters like Oracle, Red Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood and the like.
Pushing the door open, the warmth hit me, Actual heat, the kind that seeped into your bones and told your trauma to sit down for five minutes. The smell of espresso, burnt caramel, and cinnamon. Morning Radio is playing from somewhere behind the counter. There was a line at the counter, the morning pre-work coffee queue, if the worn briefcases and suits were anything to go by.
The barista looked up—sharp eyeliner, shaved sides, piercings like constellations across their ears. Their nametag said "Jules", they nodded as I joined the line, and went back to steaming milk.
I waited, listening to the sounds of the shop around me until the line moved enough; I stepped up to the counter. "Iced, but if not hot latte. Biggest you've got. Please."
They nodded, "We have ice", tapped the screen, and said, "Name?"
I paused. Not because I didn't know it, but because saying it out loud here, now, felt like signing a contract.
"Caspian."
Their eyebrow twitched upward. "Cool, that'll be $5.48 ."
"Thanks," I said,
They pointed me over to the pickup station at the other end of the espresso machines. So I leaned against the window and waited till she slid me a chilled plastic cup a few moments later, with ice clattering inside it.
I took a sip and nearly sighed. It wasn't good. But it was real.
I shoved a tip in the jar with a nod and made my way out of the slowly filling cafe. I exhaled slowly. I had time. Just enough to drink this down before I dealt with bureaucrats, fake smiles, and the weight of someone else's grief printed onto government forms.
There was a lot to get used to, not just about Gotham, but being in America, I had never left England in my last life, but luckily, I knew enough of the culture and memories of being in America in this body to not stand out. But at least I had coffee.