Fusing the 1960s suave "cat-burglar-turned-bodyguard" aesthetic of Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat with the visceral, biotech-heavy world of New Flesh is a brilliant move. You're taking a classic "gentleman rogue" and dropping him into a setting where "breaking and entering" might mean infiltrating a living, breathing databank.
So I've been slowly adapting the suave and sophisticated cultclassic TV show T.H.E. Cat into our New Flesh campaign. This blog post picks right up from Can Silent Legions rpg & The New Flesh Rpg be Compatible With A Nuelow Games Twist ?! - The Enchanted Dagger
Here is how you can adapt T.H.E. Cat for your campaign:
The Concept: Thomas "The Cat" Hewitt
In the New Flesh era, Hewitt isn't just a former circus aerialist; he’s a specialized Infiltration Architect. He operates out of a high-end, retro-styled lounge called Casa del Gato, serving as a neutral ground for the city’s elite and its underworld.
Core Attributes
The Vibe: Sharp suits, quiet footsteps, and an unsettlingly calm demeanor. He doesn't use heavy cyberware that "clunks"—his mods are internal, sleek, and high-spec.
The Hook: He no longer steals for profit; he "liberates" items or people from bio-fortresses for those who have no other recourse.
The Signature: He leaves a small, silver cat charm at the scene of his "consultations" to let the security teams know exactly who outclassed them.
Stats & Specializations
To keep him feeling like the original character, focus on Agility, Stealth, and Evasion rather than raw firepower.
| Attribute | Focus |
| Primary Skill | Inorganic Parkour: Mastery over vertical environments and structural weak points. |
| Augmentation | Subdermal Friction Pads: Allow him to cling to surfaces without mechanical claws. |
| Weaponry | The Grapple-Cane: A weighted, collapsible baton that doubles as a high-tension winch. |
| Defensive Style | Reactive Kinetic Dampening: He doesn't block; he flows around attacks. |
Integration Hooks for your Players
How do you introduce a relic of cool into a world of meat and metal?
The Extraction Mentor: The players need to get into a "living" vault. Their fixer sends them to Hewitt, who refuses to join the mission but offers to "choreograph" their entry for a steep favor.
The Bodyguard Contract: A high-value target (perhaps a bio-engineer defecting from a corp) has hired Hewitt. The players are brought in as the "loud" distraction while Hewitt handles the "quiet" exit.
The Cold Trail: The players are investigating a high-profile theft. They find no forced entry, no hacked nodes—just a single silver cat charm. They have to track down a man who officially doesn't exist.
Roleplay Tip: The "Cat" Philosophy
"Most people fight the building. They drill, they blast, they hack. I don't fight the environment; I participate in it. If you want to get in, stop treating the door like an enemy and start treating it like an invitation."
Hewitt should be polite, slightly detached, and always seem to be standing three inches further away than the players realized. He speaks in low tones and never repeats himself.
In the world of New Flesh, Hewitt serves as a bridge between the "Analog Past" and the "Biotech Future." He represents a rare breed: the Pure-Skill Infiltrator.
While others rely on heavy combat implants or neural hacking, "The Cat" relies on physics, timing, and his legendary "Sleeve Knife."
Edition 1: The Bio-Horror Era
In the First Edition, the focus is on the visceral corruption of the body. Hewitt is a man desperately trying to remain "clean" of the flesh-warping tech.
Stats & Mechanics
Flesh Integrity: 10/10 (He is un-mutated, which is rare and makes him a "high-value specimen" for cults).
Agility (Primary): d12+2. He moves with a liquid grace that seems supernatural.
Reflexes: d10. He usually wins initiative by simply not being where the bullet is going.
The "Circus Performer" Trait: When Hewitt is at least 10 feet above his target, he gains a +4 Bonus to all Stealth and Attack rolls.
Signature Gear: The Analog Rig
The Sleeve Knife: A spring-loaded blade. In 1E, this counts as a Hidden Strike weapon. If the target is unaware, it ignores all natural armor (chitin, thickened skin).
The Monofilament Grapple: A hand-cranked winch. No electronics to be jammed or hacked.
The Black Bodysuit: Not armor, but "Signature Camouflage." It grants a d10 bonus to hide in shadows, but offers 0 protection against physical damage.
Edition 2: The Post-Human / Systemic Era
In the Second Edition, the mechanics are more streamlined and focused on "Tags" and "Keywords." Hewitt is now an Apex Infiltrator.
NPC Profile: Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat
Tags: Legendary, Analog, Un-Hacked, Evasive
| Attribute | Value | Keyword Effect |
| Prowess | 6 | Phantom: Hewitt cannot be tracked by thermal or motion sensors. |
| Cunning | 5 | Architect: He treats all man-made structures as "Difficult Terrain" for his enemies, but "Open Flow" for himself. |
| Violence | 4 | Precise: His attacks never trigger "Death Throes" or biological alarms. |
Unique Ability: "The Netless Fall"
Once per encounter, if Hewitt would take lethal damage or be captured, he may "disappear into the verticality." He is removed from the board and reappears at the start of the next round in any elevated position, fully refreshed.
The "New Flesh" Twist (2E Custom Rule)
Hewitt has a Bio-Static Aura. Because he has zero cybernetic or biological augmentations, he is "invisible" to the Hive-Mind and Auto-Turrets. He essentially functions as a "dead zone" in the city's digital and biological sensory grid.
Roleplaying the Transition
In 1E: Hewitt is a survivor. He views the "New Flesh" as a circus act gone wrong. He treats the players with a mix of pity and professional respect—he knows they've traded their humanity for power, and he’s curious how long they'll last.
In 2E: Hewitt is a ghost in the machine. He is the only man who can walk through a DNA-locked door because his DNA is "boring" and un-flagged. He is the ultimate "cleaner."
The "Casa del Gato" Base
In both editions, Hewitt operates out of a jazz club.
The Atmosphere: Vinyl records only (no digital signals), dim lighting, and real bourbon.
The Rule: No "Flesh-Vents" or active mutations allowed inside. If a player starts "unraveling" or mutating mid-conversation, Hewitt’s partner, Pepe (a massive man with a heavy kinetic shotgun), will politely escort them to the alley.
Excellent. Let's set the scene in the grimy, synth-soaked metropolis of New Flesh, within the anachronistic haven of Casa del Gato.
Briefing: The Crimson Orchid Heist
The scent of old whiskey and faint cigar smoke hangs heavy in the air of Casa del Gato, a stark contrast to the sterile, metallic tang of the city outside. The only light comes from amber lamps and the slow spin of a real vinyl record on a turntable in the corner. The jazz is cool, smooth, and utterly out of place.
Your contact, a nervous man named Fingers, ushers you to a secluded booth. A moment later, a figure emerges from the shadows. He’s immaculate. A crisp, dark suit, a perfectly knotted tie, and eyes that seem to absorb rather than reflect the dim light. This is Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat.
He doesn't offer a handshake. Instead, he gestures to the seat opposite him. His voice is a low, even purr, cutting through the jazz like a silk thread.
"Gentlemen, ladies. Or whatever you've chosen to be today," he begins, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "I appreciate you finding your way to my... establishment. I understand you have a certain reputation for... getting things done, where others find themselves... stuck."
He slides a single, elegant datapad across the polished table. It's an antique, no visible ports, just a smooth, dark surface. As it reaches your side of the table, a shimmering, topographical map of a bio-luminescent greenhouse appears on its surface.
"My client requires the retrieval of a rather delicate specimen," Hewitt continues, his finger tracing a path across the glowing map. "The Crimson Orchid. It's not a common flower. Grows only under very specific, controlled conditions. And it happens to be housed in the private vivarium of Dr. Aris Thorne."
He pauses, allowing the name to sink in. Thorne is a notorious Bio-Architect, known for his living structures and his almost paranoid security measures.
"Dr. Thorne's estate is a marvel of biological integration," Hewitt explains, leaning back slightly, his posture a study in relaxed vigilance. "Every wall, every conduit, every air vent... it's all alive. His security systems are not merely digital, nor purely mechanical. They are... organic. Designed to detect the slightest anomaly in biological signatures, the smallest disruption to the 'natural' flow of his creation."
He taps a point on the map, highlighting a particularly dense section of the vivarium. "My usual methods, shall we say, involve a certain... elegance of entry. A silent key in a silent lock. However, Thorne's system is... sensitive to the presence of anything it doesn't recognize. And even more so, to anything that smells of... invasive technology."
Hewitt looks at each of you, his gaze unnervingly direct. "This is where you come in. Your... particular skill sets. Your enhancements. You are, in essence, the anomaly. The disruption. You are the hammer where I prefer the scalpel."
He slides a small, velvet pouch across the table. It clinks softly. "The advance. Half now, half upon successful delivery of the orchid. And do be gentle. My client insists on its pristine condition."
He retrieves the datapad with the same fluid motion, the map vanishing as it leaves your grasp.
"Your task is to create a diversion. A significant, undeniable disturbance that will draw Thorne's 'biological' security systems to a specific sector"—he points vaguely towards the west wing of the estate on an invisible map only he can see—"giving me a window of precisely eighteen minutes to retrieve the orchid."
"Do not engage with the orchid itself. Do not touch it. Do not even look at it too long," he advises, a rare flicker of something that might be caution in his eyes. "Its beauty is... intoxicating. Your role is simply to be noticed. Loudly."
He stands, his movements silent. "My associate, Pepe, will provide you with the exact coordinates and any further logistical details. I will handle the rest. I trust you understand the parameters."
With a final, almost imperceptible nod, Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat melts back into the shadows from which he appeared, leaving you with the velvet pouch, the lingering scent of old money, and the daunting task of becoming a noisy, fleshy distraction in a living fortress.
In the world of New Flesh, "flora" is rarely just a plant. The Crimson Orchid is a masterpiece of illegal bio-engineering—a literal "living data-thief" disguised as a botanical marvel.
The Nature of the Orchid
The Orchid doesn't photosynthesize; it neuro-synthesizes. It is a parasitic organism designed to be placed near a high-level biological server or a powerful psychic medium.
Appearance: It looks like a classic cattleya orchid, but its petals are the deep, pulsing red of oxygenated blood. If you look closely, the "veins" in the leaves aren't xylem—they are translucent nerve fibers that twitch in response to nearby thoughts.
The Scent: It emits a pheromone that mimics the "comfort" chemicals of whatever species is looking at it. To a human, it smells like a childhood memory or a lost lover.
Technical Specifications (Game Mechanics)
1st Edition: The Bio-Terror Version
In the first edition, the Orchid is a Consumption Device.
The Trap: Anyone within 5 feet must make a Willpower Check (TN 15) or become "Enthralled." They will stand motionless, staring at the flower, while it slowly extends microscopic tendrils into their tear ducts to begin "downloading" their memories.
The Value: To a collector, the Orchid contains the stolen research of the last person who "tended" it. To a cult, it is a vessel for a digital soul.
2nd Edition: The Systemic Version
In 2nd Edition, the Orchid has the following Tags:
Parasitic,Encrypted,Fragile,Psychotropic.Ability Effect Neural Tap While in a room, the Orchid can intercept any wireless or telepathic communication. Pheromone Spike If the Orchid is damaged, it releases a cloud of spores. All characters must succeed on a Toughness Test or suffer the ConfusedandBleedingconditions as their capillaries begin to burst.The "Silent" Alarm The Orchid is biologically tethered to Dr. Thorne. If its heart rate drops (i.e., it’s picked up), Thorne receives a direct neural spike of pain, alerting him instantly. Why Hewitt Needs You
The Orchid is protected by a Biometric Null-Field.
Electronic Invisibility: This field fries any drone or remote-operated vehicle that gets close.
The "Live" Soil: The pot it sits in isn't filled with dirt; it’s filled with a hungry, acidic slurry of digestive enzymes.
Hewitt can bypass the sensors and the guards, but he cannot carry the Orchid out alone. He needs the players to provide a "Bio-Thermal Shield"—essentially, you have to be the ones to carry the specialized lead-lined containment unit, which is heavy, awkward, and makes you a massive target for Thorne’s "Hounds" (beasts made of muscle and teeth with no eyes).
The Secret: The Orchid’s "Song"
There is a rumor among the underworld that the Crimson Orchid isn't just a recording device. It’s a Key.
“Thorne didn’t grow a flower; he grew a map to the Black Vault. Every petal is a coordinate. But the map only unfolds when the flower is fed fresh, high-grade cerebral fluid.”
In the bio-industrial nightmare of New Flesh, Dr. Thorne doesn't use robotic dogs or security cameras. He uses Lupine Myomer-Constructs, colloquially known as Thorne’s Hounds.
These aren't natural animals; they are "architectural predators" grown in vats to serve as a mobile extension of the greenhouse's nervous system.
Anatomy of a Thorne Hound
Unlike a natural wolf, a Hound is a masterpiece of deconstructed biology. They are designed for the cramped, vertical, and often humid environment of a bio-lab.
The Sightless Head: They have no eyes. The upper skull is replaced by a massive, pulsing thermal-acoustic pit. They "see" by mapping the heat signatures of your blood and the vibrations of your heartbeat against the walls.
The Exposed Musculature: They lack skin. Instead, they are covered in a slick, translucent membrane that keeps their raw, red myomer bundles lubricated. This makes them incredibly quiet—they don't "scuff" against surfaces; they slide.
The Prehensile Spine: Their vertebrae extend past the pelvis into a whip-like tail tipped with a Neuro-Toxin Stinger. A single scratch causes your muscles to seize while your mind remains hyper-aware.
Edition 1: The Bio-Horror Stats
In 1E, the Hounds are terrifying because they are relentless. They don't have a "Morale" stat—they simply function until they are rendered into meat.
Vitality: 25
Senses: Echolocation. Invisibility or darkness offers no protection. Only "Cold-Blooded" mutations or thermal dampening suits can hide a player.
Attack: The Shredding Pounce. If a Hound moves more than 10 feet before attacking, it deals 2d8+4 rending damage and initiates a Grapple.
Special: Pheromone Marking. If a Hound bites you, it sprays a chemical marker. Every other Hound on the map now knows your exact location for the next hour.
Edition 2: The Systemic Stats
In 2E, the Hounds function as a "Pack-Mind" threat, getting exponentially more dangerous the more there are in a zone.
Tags: Biological, Echolocation, Apex-Pack, Relentless
| Ability | Effect |
| Pack Hunter | +1 Violence for every other "Hound" in the same Zone (Max +3). |
| Sonic Howl | Hewitt’s nightmare. The Hound emits a frequency that disrupts electronic cloaking and causes Dazed status to any player with neural implants. |
| Grip of the Grave | Once it bites, it locks its jaw. The player is Restrained until they succeed on a Strength (Power) Test. |
Hewitt’s Tactical Advice
Before you leave Casa del Gato, Hewitt slides a small, vibrating tuning fork across the table.
"Thorne’s pets are masterpieces of sensory overload. They don't see you; they hear your pulse. If you find yourself cornered, strike this fork against a hard surface. The frequency will blow out their acoustic pits for about ten seconds. It’ll buy you time to run—or to die in a slightly more comfortable position."
How to Kill Them:
High-Frequency Sound: They are vulnerable to sonic weaponry.
Chemical Interference: Strong-smelling gasses (like ammonia) can "blind" their thermal-acoustic pits.
The "Cold" Approach: If a player can drop their body temperature to match the room (via mutation or tech), the Hounds will walk right past them.
In the bio-saturated environment of Dr. Thorne’s estate, heat is a death sentence. The Lupine Hounds track the infrared bloom of a human body like a beacon. To counter this, Hewitt provides the "Sub-Zero" Infiltration Rig—commonly known as the Cold Suit.
Unlike standard tactical gear, the Cold Suit isn't designed to protect you from bullets; it's designed to make you disappear from the biological spectrum.
Anatomy of the Cold Suit
The suit is a multi-layered, matte-black jumpsuit that feels like a cross between sharkskin and heavy silk. It is an "Endothermic Sink"—it doesn't just block heat; it consumes it.
Capillary Heat-Exchange Grid: A network of micro-tubules woven into the fabric. They pump a specialized coolant (Liquid Helium-derivative) that pulls body heat away from your skin and stores it in a small, insulated "Sink Tank" on the small of your back.
The Neural-Bypass Interface: To keep your brain from overheating while your body surface is freezing, the suit plugs into your spinal port. It regulates your metabolism, slowing your heart rate and breathing to a "near-death" crawl.
The Acoustic Dampening Layer: The outer fabric is "hairy" at a microscopic level, designed to absorb sound waves rather than reflect them, effectively making you invisible to the Hounds' echolocation.
Game Mechanics
1st Edition: The Survival Horror Stats
In 1E, the suit is a double-edged sword. It keeps you hidden, but it’s killing you.
Thermal Masking: As long as the suit is powered, Hounds and thermal sensors have a -8 penalty to detect you.
The Metabolic Price: Every 10 minutes (or every 2 rounds of combat), you must make a Constitution/Stamina Check (TN 12 + 2 per previous check). If you fail, you suffer 1 point of Internal Frostbite damage as the suit struggles to dump your heat.
Stealth Bonus: Grants a +5 bonus to all Move Silently checks.
2nd Edition: The Systemic Stats
In 2E, the suit functions via "Heat Management" tokens.
Tags: Utility, Stealth, Endothermic, Fragile
| Feature | Effect |
| Silent Running | You gain the Ghost keyword. You do not trigger any biological or acoustic alarms while moving at half speed. |
| Heat Sink (3 Slots) | The suit can absorb 3 "Heat Points." Using an action (like running or fighting) adds 1 Heat Point. At 3 points, the suit vents steam, making you Immediately Visible. |
| Cryo-Stabilizer | You are immune to "Inflammation" or "Burn" status effects while wearing the suit. |
Hewitt’s Warning: The "Vent" Problem
Before you leave the club, Hewitt demonstrates the suit’s primary flaw. He taps the tank on his own suit, and a small hiss of freezing white vapor escapes.
"The laws of physics are stubborn. The suit hides your heat, but it has to put that energy somewhere. Eventually, the Sink Tank fills up. When it does, you have to vent. It creates a thermal plume that looks like a flare to a Hound. Time your vents carefully—preferably when you're behind a thick wall or near a steam pipe."
Using the Suit with the Orchid
The Crimson Orchid is sensitive to temperature. If you carry the flower while the suit is in "Active Cooling" mode, the flower may go into shock and die (failing the mission).
The Solution: One player must act as the "Heat Source." This player wears the suit in a "Shielded" mode, where they carry the Orchid in a specialized cradle that stays at room temperature, while the rest of the team stays frozen and provides cover.
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