recently i’ve been working on an oc for death stranding, which is pretty much just an insert for my sona. i’ve been writing them a backstory and i’m really excited about it! they’re a fully autonomous droid like my sona.
so if anyone would like to keep up with that, i absolutely adore them. their name is Osiris and i can’t wait to share more of them with yall! you can find the first chapter here but also below the cut!
heavy is the heart that envies the feather
notes from ao3: Hello! I am working on building up a backstory for my droid sona (nothing to do with star wars) and inserting them as an original character in death stranding. This part here will be part one of the backstory in Higgs' point of view to show the start of the creation.
There will be a part two that will be in the point of view of the droid to flesh out the remainder of the backstory in a way that works with the canonical ending of the events of Death Stranding as best as i could muster.
I have tried to stick to canon as best as I could and looking things up on the wiki. If there seem to be any errors regarding Higgs and his past, or even just the world in general, please feel free to let me know (kindly) it the comments and I can see about tweaking it!
As far as the actual timeline, I will be honest in that I had to take some liberties and, well, pretty much guess how much time would have passed since we aren't given a strict set of dates or length of time in game or in any backstories on character wikis. But if anything seems off or inaccurate in the length of time or even just details of the canon universe, please also feel free to let me know (kindly)! and as always, thanks for reading!
chapter one: the particle of god that permeates all existence
< Early Bridges - Peter Englert >
Peter sat stationary at his workbench, the heels of his boots hooked onto the foot rest at the base of his stool. Working on his projects was probably one of the few times he could sit still, and didn't see visions of his hands . . . poof, turning to a thick, black mist. It kept his hands occupied and his mind focused, all the while actually enjoying the task at hand. And this project was going to be the most important of all; one that revolutionized the way he worked and got things done. Such an extraordinary tool that, once fleshed out and brought to life, could be further improved upon as the need arose.
Although just a prototype, this robot . . . this android could do wonders for porters and preppers alike, bringing them one step closer to closing the gap that was loneliness and solitude. If porters didn’t have to risk their lives to perform their jobs, as important and fulfilling as such a task may be, the less of a threat that a void out would and could be. But for now, this android would be something he would consider his companion at the start; working its program to help alongside him on deliveries, or manning the bunker to assist in deliveries and communicating with the terminal.
It took weeks just to gather the proper materials for this, considering he decided to keep it on the down low all the while working for Bridges. And the planning took almost as long, if not longer. Drawing the blueprints, fine tuning the schematics. It was all a time consuming set of tasks, one of which he had to attempt while walking his deliveries and taking orders.
Orders. . .
“You and I will be almost the same, won’t we?” Peter murmured, pausing his work as he rested the spherical metal piece that was beginning to become a head in the palms of his hands. He brushed his thumbs softly over the indentations where its eyes would eventually be, imagining the wiring and the whirring sound that would eventually fill this skull.
“Bridges sends me orders, expects porters like myself to be at their beck and call; and what do we have to show for it?” he started rambling, putting the metal skull down with a heavier thud than was intended. He braced both hands towards the corners of the work bench, still watching the skull but eyes distant with contemplation.
“We make sacrifices every day and maybe, just maybe,” he mused, eyes locking onto the skull again as he caressed it with one hand, standing slightly from his seat. He pressed his thumb to the temple of the skull, noticing a star design on the piece of metal from a leftover logo for Bridges, from whom he “borrowed” the material that was set out for recycling anyhow. “They’ll give you a star on your thigh if you deliver enough.”
He sighed, standing fully before walking towards his computer to overlook the programming software. He typed in several adjustments, adding to the existing code and double checking his fail safes and back doors.
Not that they contained much currently, except for the basic rundown if damage occurred, in that power would become reduced to outward facilities to save memory and focus on retaining information stored and saved to its data bank. Stabilizers would remain at full power to attempt to keep the android from further physical damage in the event of catastrophe but would need human intervention (potentially a code phrase, if Peter were to get to that point in the programming) to recalibrate full power to all extremities at the cost of reduced speeds of backing up and saving memory, as well as potential malfunction or corruption of the programming. But he would iron out the details later, fine tuning them to fit his needs.
“Hopefully with these protocols set in place, we can keep your software, and hardware, safe,” he whispered. “And down the line, maybe we can fine tune the personalization protocol so you don’t end up sounding like you’ve got a stick up your—“
His comm device started ringing, the ringtone that indicated bridges was calling. He let out a preemptive sigh and paused briefly, mentally preparing what they’d be calling him for before reaching for his device and answering.
“Peter, South Knot is requesting a delivery and has asked for you by name,” said the voice on the other line, a gentleman he couldn’t remember having heard before. The confession equally took him by surprise. Sure, he’s delivered to South Knot dozens of times, but to be requested by name? That was unheard of, at least for a porter with such low miles under his belt. He was one of the newest porters, despite having a couple years to his name. Usually more esteemed and recognized porters got requested by name, but even then it was usually only for special occasions.
“Me? What do they want me for?” He realized his tone came off almost annoyed, but he couldn’t tell if he cared. At the same time, he felt himself wince as if expecting to be verbally patronized for said tone.
“They said they’d give you more details on site, but supposedly there’s someone there who would like to meet you and request something from you, privately.”
His brows furrowed, analyzing the conversation. This didn’t feel like a typical delivery handout whenever an associate from Bridges called, nor did he recognize the gentlemen on the phone. And if someone simply wanted a conversation, why didn’t they just seek him out? To request a conversation via a delivery through Bridges was odd, and it was even stranger that the message was so vague. Bridges would never approve a request like this. The curiosity pushed him to accept it; what harm would be done? Worse comes to worst . . . well, he wasn’t sure. He had no idea what he could be walking into yet he felt extremely compelled to show up.
He said his goodbyes to the gentlemen on the comm before hanging up and tossing the device back onto the coffee table where he had it. He planted his hands on his hips, hoping he didn’t just make a mistake. He glanced over to the metal skull on his workbench, deciding to rub the top of its head for good luck before packing up and getting dressed for his trek to South Knot.
One Week Later
Peter stared absentmindedly at his computer screen, half paying attention to the protocols he was working on and fixing. His mind was spinning with the events that happened at South Knot. It made sense, with hindsight, why the call from “Bridges” seemed so mysterious and out of place. Nor did they really even meet at South Knot, like requested.
A woman, identified as Coffin, offered a job under new management, away from Bridges. Her and her team uncovered the truth about what Bridges was really doing, and their motivations, and Coffin needed Peter’s help to do so. She had apparently been keeping an eye on him from a distance, which is why she knew who he was and to request him by name. She promised two weeks for him to sit on the information before giving an answer. He had about 9 days left, and he was still uncertain if siding with her would be the move.
“We’d be saving children,” he murmured to himself, sitting back in his chair as he raked his hands through his hair. She kept repeating that to him, with emphasis. ‘Save the future by saving the kids so that they can save Tomorrow.’
He glanced over to the half done body of his android, still just mainly framework with some parts of an exoskeleton. He needed to finish the protocols before completing the entire build so he could fine tune details until the last minute. He introduced schematics to the bunker and the agricultural equipment that Peter fixed up when he first found the place. Maybe that’s what he would primarily focus on, was a harvesting and agricultural module for the androids main function; grow and maintain produce and plants and send them out in care packages.
Despite the stress of the decision at hand, it somehow helped push him forward in his ventures with this android and the motivations for its uses and abilities. He’d be helping people.
Save Tomorrow.
He finished manually entering what he needed before putting the computer on auto-pilot to finish the sequences. He’d download the programs to the android first thing when the sequences were complete, and he hoped he would have enough time to complete the exoskeleton if and when he took Coffin up on her offer.
In the meantime, after letting out a huge yawn, Peter decided it best to rest his head and potentially mull over his decision in the process. Not that he’d probably get much sleep to begin with.
Three Hours Later
Static. Buzzing. A humming lul.
A screen. Awakens. . .
01001001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01101001 01100001 01101100 01101001 01111010 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100100 01100001 01110100 01100001 (initializing data)
01010100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101100 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 (Translating)
Translation complete. . .
Downloading protocols. . .
▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️ 100%
Downloading modules. . .
▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️ 100%
Downloading ‘True Neutral’ autonomous interface. . .
▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️ 100%
Countdown commencing: T-3y:08m:012d
Sleep mode activating. . .
A screen. Darkens.
Still, a soft humming.
.
A clap of lightning, surprisingly, woke Peter from his sleep, his heart rate spiking as a result. He half sat up as he frantically looked around the room, gauging the (nonexistent) threat. Most lights remained on but were dim, as they did when the motion sensors detected less movement from inside the bunker. He allowed himself to catch his breath before sitting upright fully, the lights flickering back on as he did.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as his body adjusted to being awake before glancing up and catching the text in the computer screen, different from what he last left it on. Hurriedly, he stepped in one fell swoop to the computer, scrolling over the new information he was seeing on the screen.
“No, no, nonono,” he whispered, clicking on any and every button he could to try and reverse the download and remove the countdown. Somehow, it initialized the download and data transfer without pre-approval, but he couldn’t find a way to reverse . . . any of it.
He consistently heard the chime of the error message pop up when he tried to access something that was now locked. He sighed with a hint of exasperation, running a hand over his face before resting it over his mouth. He had to remind himself that hopefully this could be edited and added to when the timer completed, hopefully preventing startup to make his finishing touch ups. Where was it?
There.
“Thr-“ he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He let out a long sigh.
Three god damned years.
This wasn’t supposed to happen; how could this happen? He knocked over an empty cup from his desk out of frustration, standing as he raked his hands through his hair.
“Gods damn it,” he muttered, leaning against his workbench with one hand while he pressed the other to his face. When he dropped it, he took the chin of the android carefully and analyzed it, shaking his head with mild indignation.
He tried to reason with himself about the . . . delay, as inconvenient as it might be.
“Gives me time to still tweak and fine tune the program and will just have to edit it when it becomes available,” he whispered, pacing back and forth a bit as he mused. “Gives me time to further work on the exo-skeleton and the mech, updating the technology as time goes on.”
He slowly felt his anger resolve, albeit only slightly. The ridiculous countdown notwithstanding (he wasn’t even sure how it got there to begin with?), perhaps this was a sign. Maybe this was the sign he needed to move ahead in working with Coffin. He’d be doing work he believed in, gaining more connections with like minded individuals. And he’d have access to more materials, and maybe they’d be willing to bring this idea to life on a bigger scale; almost sentient robots that can withstand deliveries and last long.
He felt his chest flood with hope and resolve, the anger and frustration he felt only moments ago fading. He’d have to accept Coffin's deal; this would be too good to pass up, not when it’s someone recognizing him for his own talents. He couldn’t take this opportunity for granted, either.
It was only just the beginning.
Eight Months Later
< Coffin + Saving BB’s - Peter Englert >
Peter found himself succumbing to everything Coffin had set up for him, and more. But it all felt natural, like he was moving up in the world. Working with Bridges felt fulfilling in its own way, but working under Coffin seemed to have pushed the trajectory of his life in a way he never thought possible. Far outside the realm of Bridges.
She brought him to newer and greater heights and believed in him when so many others failed to do so. Failed to see his potential and feed it.
He couldn’t wait to return to his droid; incorporate data and protocols to better suit his needs going forward. He couldn’t believe how little he knew previously and how many doors Coffin was now opening for him. He’d be able to program the droid to assist on missions and help extract data, transfer it seamlessly.
If only he could take care of it as soon as possible, continue to add to the programming as he learned new things. But maybe, in a way, this was the universe's way of teaching him patience (as great as he was already with that).
But Coffin had plans to have him return to Bridges; keep an eye on her daughter, Fragile, while he was back out east. Perhaps he could work on his own musings while he was back out that way, update most of his journals and make sure the droid's machinery hadn’t rusted over (much) in his absence.
< The Space In Between Eight Months >
A soft electrical buzz. Dim, flickering lights. The drip of rainfall coming from an exposed part of the ceiling.
There hasn’t been sound in this room like there used to be. Where did it go? Occasionally, there might be a soft fluttering sound, like the wings of a small creature. But even that comes and goes; perhaps something seeking refuge from weather or a predator. Occasionally, faint noise can be heard from nearby; a ruckus, commotion, the beeping from an automotive machine, before it settles until the next circumstance bothers it again.
No sight, no autonomy, no way to move. A program, trapped in a stasis with a mechanical consciousness unable to push free.
Quiet. Contemplative.
< Post Coffin - Peter Englert Higgs Monaghan >
He couldn’t return to the bunker. At least, he hadn’t been able to for the weeks since he returned from working with Coffin. The area grew with more mule camps since he left last, causing more foot traffic in the area than he was comfortable with traversing. He didn’t want to risk being seen, going to and from as he gathered materials for the droid and reinforcing everything inside the bunker when needed.
He didn’t like the idea of going even longer without seeing his creation, considering the potential for material deterioration or the whole system crashing in his absence and losing everything. He couldn’t even be sure there was a bunker or a droid to return to, if it hadn’t been ransacked or caved in already. He did well at giving it cover and hiding the entrance behind a hologram but that didn’t stop anyone from seeing it if they did get close enough.
He would have to hope for the best and keep his current journal up to date and that he had the rest to return to if and when he had the chance. For now, he’d have to make do in his new home, a bunker sitting just outside the radius of Lake Knot. He tried looking to the bright side of it all; he had a new start with Coffin, and returned to the east with new objectives. A new plan for his life.
Today, it was a new start at becoming someone better, leveling up. He was Higgs Monaghan now, and he was going to do what was best for humanity. Connection.
Even if that meant starting a new life; with a new group in extension of Coffin, the Demens.
18 Months Later
< Porter Bridges and Extinction Entities - Higgs Monaghan >
Higgs found himself carefully making his way to the bunker along the coast, evading attention from the MULES nearby in the process. He had cases of material strapped to his skeleton, the final preparations needed to finish the model for his droid. He had been back only about twice or three times since returning from his trip out west with Coffin, mainly to take note of any damage done to the droid in its time sitting idle and catalog what material he’d need. Although aside from some rusting and the occasional paneling having been slightly warped, he didn’t have to fix much.
Eventually he made it to the bunker and stowed the cases on the floor next to the bench for ease of access when he needed them. He took notice of some berries and other unidentifiable scraps of plants around the droid and haphazardly brushed them off the bench. He remembered seeing things like this the last few times he came back, curious about what could possibly be bringing these kinds of scraps inside the bunker. It had to be some kind of animal that found a hole and made refuge when it needed to. He took note to find the access point when he could, but hadn’t decided if he’d close it, or simply reinforce it to keep the outside elements, well, out, while still giving whatever creature access to the bunker. Something he’d think about when it came time to cleaning the place up.
“Alrighty, ready to get this started?” Higgs asked in a whisper to the idle droid, taking off his black, hooded cape and hanging it up on a dusty coat hanger next to the bench. A mechanical whirring flared up from within the droid's system, almost in response, before becoming idle again. The sentient program began occasionally doing that in response to his voice or movement the last few times he had shown up.
He speculated that the physical elements of the body becoming fulfilled to completion as well as becoming so close to the activation date began almost stirring the program awake inside, almost as if it was attempting to respond to stimulus earlier than it was supposed to.
Or perhaps it was similar to the way a BB pod worked, the programming and “consciousness” (for lack of a better word) of the droid taking in things from the world in its idle state and attempting to communicate or reciprocate to certain stimuli but falling back idle when it realized the machinery wasn’t powered up enough to do so. He cradled the head in the palm of his hand as he hummed in appreciation, wishing he, too, could communicate with his creation already.
But before he could linger in contemplation too long, he began taking apart the containers that withheld the materials and getting to work. He couldn’t recount how long he was stationed down in the bunker, but he knew he was there a long while as his body grew tired and hungry after so long. But he was determined to get the physical work finished on the droid and secure proper safekeeping so the material wouldn’t deteriorate again in his absence, or at least happen as fast.
And he wanted to make sure he finished all of the necessary physical work to the droid and repairs to the inside of the bunker, as he couldn’t be sure when he would get another perfect opportune time to be able to do this. Especially on the off chance that the conception of the droid would occur in his absence; he needed to at least make sure the place (and the droid) was spruced up well enough so it could begin performing tasks. And it wouldn’t hurt to reinforce everything for safety.
“Wouldn’t want you getting raided or otherwise harmed by outside forces, now would we?” Higgs asked out loud, applying some finishing touches to the appearance of the droid as it “stood” now on a platform that, upon activation, could easily disconnect itself and get moving.
Higgs took a step back to look the droid over, a grin slowly growing on his face. He found it difficult to even be upset about how long it took to come to this, finally, now that the physical build of the droid was actually completed. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, pride filling him to the core. He had roughly another year, give or take, before the conception of his droid would be complete, and then he’d be able to tweak the program as needed and bring the droid completely to life.
He felt very solemn about this work, almost coming to a close, and having been through so many chapters of his life that he wished his droid could have been there for. But eventually, that plan would come to fruition.
“I wish you could meet Amelie, gosh,” Higgs exclaimed with a click of his tongue, finding himself looking past the droid as he got lost in thought about his devotion to Her and all that She’s given him and more. More than he’s ever achieved, even under Coffin.
“She is somethin’ else, let me tell ya,” he continued, focusing back on his droid with a slight smirk. He brought his fingers to the chin of the droid, whose slight humming flared briefly again at the touch before dimming. “If only I could share a fraction of her power with you; we’d be unstoppable.”
Higgs stared longingly at the droid, going over countless scenarios of a droid fit with DOOMS (would that even be possible? Higgs could only imagine), assisting on the front lines with damn near bullet proof metal as well as being timefall resistant, helping infiltrate the UCA to gain information to help further Amelie’s cause. He would find information on Fragile, Coffin, and maybe even his soon-to-be buddy, Sam Porter Bridges, with whom his lovely Amelie knew dearly.
“I’ll be meeting Amelie’s friend at Lake Knot in a couple days, so it’ll be ‘adieu’ for a little while.”
Higgs gazed at his droid with longing and reminiscence, a bittersweet feeling knowing he was getting so close to obtaining everything he’s wanted, and not just with his droid either. But he could feel himself growing wistful, remembering when all he had in this world was himself, this bunker, and a dream for a companion.
He’d gotten so many of his dreams fulfilled since then, and he grew impatient about having to wait so long to bring the last of his plans to fruition. His droid should have been working with him by now. And it saddened him, the amount of missed opportunities the two of them could have had.
He took a deep breath to compose himself before stepping away from the droid, feeling himself become overwhelmed with his emotions. The pent up anticipation of the droids startup, the adoration and undying loyalty he had for Amelie. When so long ago as a growing boy, his life was filled with so much negativity and abuse, yet now he’s truly made something for himself, and has someone who wanted to share so much with him.
He smiled longingly up to his droid before tapping his fingers to its chin in goodbye. He would return to check up on the droid to see if maintenance was needed as a result of any kind of decay or vandalism, but otherwise, it was now a matter of waiting. He brushed some dust off the screen of the computer before bringing the desktop to life, checking the timer. He took note and added a countdown to his watch.
16 Months Later
Higgs was on his knees that were digging into the gray sand beneath him. His sweat, blood, and dirt was running down his face, getting into his eyes.
He looked up to Fragile with amusing eyes, or what he hoped came off that way. What a sense of humor the universe had, putting himself in her shoes. She had once been at his mercy, running through the timefall that had left her skin from neck to toe completely aged and wrinkled. Except now, it was just his life on the line. No other option or ultimatum.
But the gun she held in her hand shook slightly, showing hesitation in her decision that he couldn’t be certain if she was aware that he noticed. Sam was on his way back from the beach, leaving just the two of them.
“Fragile,” he whispered, furrowing his brows up at her. “Look at me, this isn’t you. You don’t want to do this, okay?”
And then there was a bang.
He wasn’t expecting to flinch, but he did, putting his arms over his head in a protective stance. His breath came hard as his heartbeat was pounding in his ears behind the ringing; his uncle's words echoed in his head about how inadequate and useless he was. So much came flooding to his memory from his past, that when he thought to look back up to Fragile, she was gone.
It took him a moment to collect himself, soothing himself through a panic attack before trying to get himself together. He found it impossible to leave the beach by himself, almost as if his powers from Amelie were gone. No, it wasn’t a matter of if; hee no longer had the ability to leave the beach, period.
“Fuck!” he shouted, kicking an object on the ground that was near his foot. He raked his hands through his hair as he huffed and puffed about the lack luster situation. He let out a long sigh before checking his wrist watch, tapping through multiple interfaces before coming to the one he needed.
The countdown for his droid only had a couple more weeks left. Roughly a month and a half, if that.
As if anything else couldn’t have gotten worse. Everything seemed to have been falling down around him like dominoes, it almost felt suffocating. He dissociated, realizing he was trapped here until he could either find a way out or someone came back for him.
What on earth was life supposed to even be like permanently stuck on the beach?