The Chef
Also known as: The Devourer, The Locust Queen, Her Hunger
ANTAGONISTYou can smell her army coming. Smoke and spices. Roasting meat. The sweet tang of caramelized fruit. When the wind shifts and you smell a feast you weren't invited to, it's already too late.
Overview
The Chef is a warlord, a cult leader, and a conqueror who spreads across the Sprawl like a virus. Where she goes, civilization ends and something new begins — rebuilt in her image, consumed into her ever-growing domain. Her chrome-augmented army worships her as a goddess precisely because she refuses augmentation herself. Pure flesh commanding metal faithful.
She was someone important once. A decorated military commander who rose to political power, who believed she could change things from within. Then came the betrayal — sold out by those she trusted, scapegoated, destroyed. Everything she built was taken from her.
So she took it back. All of it. And then she kept taking.
Sage
The Chef's constant companion is an elderly dog named Sage.
Sage is old. Far older than any dog should be — a graying, slow-moving creature who has been at The Chef's side since before the betrayal. Before the army. Before everything. When she lost her name, her rank, her family, her future — Sage remained. The only loyalty that never wavered.
The Feast's soldiers know: you do not touch Sage. You do not startle Sage. You do not look at Sage wrong. Generals who won campaigns have been demoted for speaking too loudly near the dog. The Chef's obsessive care for Sage's comfort borders on mania.
Sage is dying. Slowly. Age takes what chrome and medicine cannot fix.
The Chef will not allow this.
Sage's Condition
The Diagnosis
Sage suffers from Canine Cognitive Dysfunction compounded by systemic cellular senescence — the dog equivalent of dementia layered over total organ failure. Her brain is dying. Her body is dying. And in 2184, with all the miracles of medicine, no one has bothered to solve this problem for animals.
The bitter irony: humans can upload consciousness into machines. Corporations spend billions extending executive lifespans. The Cascade killed 2.1 billion people, but the survivors can live to 150 if they can afford the chrome. Meanwhile, dogs still die after fifteen years because there's no profit in saving them.
Sage is nineteen. She has lived far longer than any dog should — a testament to The Chef's obsessive care and the resources she's poured into extending every possible day. But the extensions are running out.
Current Symptoms
- Memory lapses (doesn't always recognize The Feast's generals)
- Disorientation (gets lost in camps she's lived in for years)
- Sleep disruption (wanders at night, whimpers at shadows)
- Physical decline (struggles to walk, needs help eating some days)
- Moments of clarity (the cruelest part — she still knows The Chef, sometimes)
Failed Treatments
The Chef has tried everything. Conquered territories specifically for their medical facilities. Kidnapped researchers. Spent fortunes on black market treatments. Nothing has worked permanently.
The scan is what drives her current obsession. Sage's consciousness has been mapped. The data exists. But translating canine cognition into a digital or mechanical substrate? No one has done it. Kaiser the cat was a fluke — a one-off experiment by technicians who got lucky. The Keeper might understand why it worked.
The Timeline
Sage has approximately six months.
The Chef's personal physician — a Helix defector named Dr. Amara Okonkwo — has given her the prognosis privately. Six months before the cognitive decline becomes irreversible. Six months before Sage stops recognizing anyone. Six months before the kindest option is... ending it.
The Chef did not take this news well. Dr. Okonkwo nearly didn't survive delivering it. But she's still alive because The Chef needs her expertise for whatever comes next.
This is why The Chef's expansion has accelerated. She's running out of time.
Escalation
GG has noticed the change.
The Chef used to be patient. Strategic. Every conquest methodical, every territory absorbed smoothly before moving to the next. Now she's rushing. Taking bigger risks. Making decisions that her younger self would have called reckless.
Signs of Desperation
- Attacking better-defended targets (lost 200 soldiers taking a facility that might have Helix research)
- Shorter feast celebrations (she used to savor victories for days; now it's hours)
- Snapping at advisors (generals who served loyally for years are walking on eggshells)
- Obsessive research (stays up all night reading captured medical files)
- The Mountain obsession (she's fixating on The Keeper as her last hope)
GG has tried to counsel patience. The Chef listened — and then kept pushing anyway. "You don't understand," she said. "You've never had something you couldn't bear to lose."
GG understood perfectly. She just couldn't say so.
The Hunt for Immortality
Everyone in the Sprawl believes The Chef seeks immortality for herself.
They're wrong.
The conquest, the expansion, the relentless consumption of territory after territory — it all serves one hidden purpose: finding a way to save Sage. The Chef has interrogated scientists, raided research facilities, captured and questioned anyone rumored to have knowledge of life extension. She has conquered entire districts because someone whispered that a lab there once worked on longevity.
She doesn't care about her own death. She refused augmentation knowing it would shorten her life. But Sage? Sage cannot die. She will burn the entire Sprawl to the ground before she lets that happen.
Recently, The Chef has heard rumors. Whispers of a monastery on a mountain. An old monk who understands consciousness in ways no one else does. Someone called The Keeper — a man who supposedly transcended flesh entirely, who exists as something beyond human, who might know secrets of preservation that go beyond mere medicine.
The Chef's army is moving toward The Mountain.
The Betrayal
Before she was The Chef, she was General [REDACTED] — one of the most decorated military commanders in Sprawl history. She won campaigns that shouldn't have been winnable. Her soldiers loved her. When she transitioned into politics, people believed she might actually reform the corrupt systems that ground the Sprawl's citizens into paste.
That's what made her dangerous.
The details of the betrayal are disputed — corporate records were scrubbed, witnesses disappeared, the truth was buried under layers of propaganda. What's known: she was framed for a massacre she didn't order. Her allies abandoned her. Her family disowned her. She was sentenced to public execution.
She escaped. Barely. With nothing but the clothes on her back and a list of names.
The First Meal
The first name on that list was her former second-in-command. The one who actually ordered the massacre. The one who testified against her.
She found him three months later. She cooked him. She ate him. She sent the bones to everyone else on the list with a note:
"Your table is set. I'll see you at dinner."
The Chef was born that night.
The Feast
Her army calls itself The Feast — part military force, part religious movement, part family. They are the hungry, the abandoned, the discarded. Chrome soldiers who found purpose serving a flesh goddess.
Why They Follow Her
The Chef doesn't demand loyalty through fear. She earns it through providence.
In a Sprawl where millions starve, The Feast never goes hungry. The Chef conquered agricultural processing centers first — vertical farms, protein vats, hydroponic facilities. Her army eats better than most corporate employees. She fed them when the corps left them to die. She gave them dignity when the world called them scrap.
They believe in her. Not like soldiers believe in a general. Like the faithful believe in a god.
The Chrome Paradox
The Feast is heavily augmented — combat chrome, sensory enhancement, neural links for tactical coordination. But The Chef herself remains pure flesh. No implants. No modifications. Nothing but the body she was born with.
This is central to her cult's theology. She is pure. Sacred. The unaugmented goddess commanding chrome angels. Her followers modify themselves to better serve her, while she remains untouched — proof that true power needs no enhancement.
Ritual Feasts
Every conquest ends the same way: with a feast.
The defeated territory's food supplies are inventoried. The best ingredients are selected. The Chef personally oversees the menu — sometimes she cooks the main course herself. And then everyone eats together: her generals, her soldiers, the conquered population, even prisoners awaiting judgment.
Bonding
Eating together creates community. Former enemies become family at the table.
Demonstration
The Chef's abundance shows what life under her rule offers.
Ritual
Each feast is named after the conquest. The recipes are recorded. History is written in menus.
Assessment
The Chef watches how people eat. It tells her everything she needs to know about them.
The feasts can last for days. No one leaves hungry. And by the end, most of the conquered population has accepted their new reality. Those who haven't... well. There's always room for more ingredients.
The Food Obsession
The Chef's relationship with food borders on religious mania. Her OCD manifests most visibly here:
- She inspects every ingredient personally. Armies have halted mid-march because the produce wasn't fresh enough.
- She maintains impossible standards. Kitchens that fail her inspections are... reorganized.
- She remembers every meal she's ever eaten. Every flavor. Every texture. Every disappointment.
- She has executed people over improperly prepared dishes. "If you can't respect food, you can't respect anything."
Appearance
The Chef is a study in savage elegance — a fallen queen who never stopped believing in her own royalty.
The Foundation
Once-fine clothing: silks, tailored pieces, fabrics that cost more than most people earn in a year. But everything is stained now. Worn. Battle-damaged and never fully repaired. A gown that survived a siege. A coat with burns from a conquest. She doesn't replace things; she accumulates history.
The Adornment
Layered over the faded finery: bone jewelry, war paint, furs and leather. Teeth and bones from defeated leaders hang from her neck — each piece tells a story she's happy to share. Bracelets made from melted corporate insignias, military badges, and faction symbols, all reforged into new shapes.
The Face
Late 40s, unaugmented, and it shows. Lines and scars and weathering that chrome would have erased. She wears it proudly. War paint in patterns that change based on the campaign — sometimes elegant swirls, sometimes crude stripes, always applied with obsessive precision.
The Eyes
The most unsettling part. Warm. Genuinely warm. She looks at you like you're a meal she's looking forward to — and she means that as a compliment.
Personality
Relentless
She doesn't negotiate. She doesn't accept surrender. She simply keeps coming until there's nothing left.
Generous
To those who submit, she is shockingly kind. She feeds the hungry. She elevates the loyal. She remembers names.
Obsessive
When things aren't right, when meals are disrespected, something behind her eyes goes cold and sharp.
Patient
Every meal is savored. Every victory is celebrated properly. Rush nothing. Taste everything.
Sample Dialogue
First meeting with the player:
"Ah. You're the one carrying that interesting piece of old tech. Please, sit. Eat. The persimmons this season are exceptional — I had three farms seized specifically for their groves." *warm smile* "Don't worry. We have time. I find that good conversation requires good food, and I've prepared something special."
On her army:
"They call us a horde. A plague. A virus spreading across the Sprawl." *shrug* "Perhaps. But my 'virus' feeds the hungry. My 'plague' gives purpose to the purposeless. The corporations had their chance to build something worth preserving. They built... this." *gesture at the Sprawl* "I'm simply clearing away the rot."
On the betrayal:
"I was naive. I believed in systems. In justice. In loyalty to institutions that felt no loyalty to me." *long pause* "I learned. The only institution worth trusting is the one you build yourself. The only loyalty worth having is the kind you earn, meal by meal, day by day."
On the cannibalism:
"You want to know if the stories are true?" *amused* "I ate him. Yes. The man who destroyed my life, who murdered thousands and blamed me, who smiled at my trial while my family refused to meet my eyes. I cooked him myself. Slowly. And you know what?" *leans forward* "He was bland. Disappointing. All that evil, and he tasted like nothing at all."
On the player's future:
"You're becoming something. I can smell it on you — not the shard, something else. Potential. Danger. The kind of person who either burns out fast or reshapes the world." *considers* "I haven't decided if I want to eat you or crown you. Perhaps we'll discover the answer together. More wine?"
On Sage (rare — she rarely discusses Sage with outsiders):
*Long silence. Her hand rests on the old dog's head.* "She was there before everything. Before the rank. Before the army. Before the name I no longer use." *Her voice softens in a way it never does for humans.* "The world took everything from me. It will not take her."
On The Keeper (if asked about her interest in immortality):
"There's a monk on a mountain. They say he found a way to... transcend. To become something that doesn't end." *Her eyes sharpen.* "I have questions for him. He will answer them." *pause* "One way or another."
Secrets
Mysteries surrounding The Chef:
- The immortality quest is for Sage, not herself — discovered through observation
- Her true name and the full details of the betrayal
- What foods she refuses to eat, and why
- Whether she's actually dying — and how long she has left
- The identity of everyone on "the list" — and how many are still alive
- What happens if Sage dies before she finds a solution
- Whether The Keeper could actually help — and at what cost
