This is the story of the
Atomic, a centuries-old corsair vessel that's seen dozens of captains, as time passes the torch each time to a new generation.
Directory:Ship Thread
Its venerable captain, the betentacled
Fred, was once a conventional pirate on his home planet, his species having been uplifted long ago by scientists who threw away the key and left the world to its own devices.
Only two crew members remain, a far cry from the ship's glory days of over a hundred.
The captain's mate, the only soul aboard (the ship AI didn't count), was none other than
Marcus Dominex Jr., who in his prime ruined more lives than an illiterate goon could count. He started off his days as a drug dealer who dealt with customs officers his own way: by blowing them to hell. When his reputation caught up to him, he left solo work and came aboard the
Atomic.
They had countless adventures together, with each other and with the other crewmates. But one by one, people met their maker and in the end, it was just these two left.
The stories they could tell could fill volumes. But as a familiar
THUD rattled the bridge, and the characteristic hiss of breaching charges went off, they held a toast in the bridge to all the memories they had together with the ship.
When the ship's new owners found Marcus and Fred, they were found floating dead in the bridge, curled hands gripping each an empty jug of Pan Adam's
Atomic Meltdown, the hardest questionably-legal drink known to all of
Tau Ceti.
It was a propitious opportunity, really. A band of wayfarers pooling their resources to buy a shuttle and force your ways into a derelict-seeming vessel? You're graduated space pirates now! Of course, none of you are veterans at this, or you'd seldom be caught dead taking easy pickings and alerting the navy. But all journeys have to start somewhere.
To start making a character, choose a
path (you don't have to read all of these, picking one is fine):
Most people live in space, on or around the Colonies. These massive hulks of spinning metal and/or hollowed-out asteroids form the basic unit of civilization: without them society wouldn't exist. Some colonies instead exist in hollowed-out volcanic tubes on the moons of Tau Ceti IV, V, and VI.
Often highly corporatized, regulated environments, colonists live their lives blissfully isolated from the harshness of space, raised in an environment bearing a token resemblance to the Earthlings' namesake.
Colonists tend to have well-paying jobs, access to social services and benefits, and their neighborhoods are usually under the firm protection of some kind of security force or police. The corporations depend on them to fill their ranks; the politicians and bureaucrats live off their tax dollars; the navy gives them positions as officers and noncombatants. The police even gives them a free pass on the stuff that's difficult to enforce, like drug regulations--though having connections to the outside world to obtain those drugs is oft illegal in its own right.
Despite the security and benefits of being a colonist, one has to deal with the costs of living in a closed environment. One-party-states are the norm, and if you happen to be unemployed or get deemed "unproductive," you might get sent to a correction center. The merciful ones will just throw you out the airlock.
Genetic engineering and augmentations have made them mostly perfect citizens, albeit dependent on a medical infrastructure missing from dead space. They're less comfortable in zero-G, of course, and rarely face combat outside of the restrained forms of crime that occur on colonies.
The space docks surrounding the colonies tend to be busy places. Heavily-guarded checkpoints tend to keep out most of the riff-raff who serve no purpose in affluent society. They also tend to do a good job of keeping people from leaving. But a colony is a huge place--the walls and underground layers and substructures are filled with a patchwork of vestigial machinery and derelict structures once used for constructions. If you really want out, there's people who would guide you through in exchange for a tip. The substructures are crawling with smugglers and fences who act as an intermediary between suppliers and willing customers on both sides.
Colonies are often surrounded by whole fields of discarded cargo containers, storage tanks, and makeshift habitats; those people who can afford a ticket out of the colony but not aboard a ship tend to end up out here. Millions of Nobodies live inside cargo containers, scavenging off surplus supplies and old technology.
Despite living in tin cans, most of these people live a fairly carefree lifestyle. Supplies aren't hard to find, and the internet provides a sole source of companionship for many. Outside the colony you'll find a whole constellation of forums, blogs, and servers. Some use virtual reality to escape from the harshness of life, others take advantage of cheap drugs to entertain themselves (they're not expensive till they get past the fences). Still others percolate into the interplanetary society, offering repairs and discount prices to travelers.
Enforcers make up the bulk of corporate security forces. They're willing to pull the trigger so long as it gets them a paycheck. These sorts of people also tend to be the guys wearing boots in the navy. Oftentimes they'll have a family to look out for, or perhaps some dream worth achieving, all the while lacking an education or useful skills that would get them any other position in the colonies. Enforcers aren't necessarily the bottom of the barrel, but they are in practice, since the job has a high turnover rate and labor supply more than exceeds the demand.
Those that aren't permanently employed often turn to private contracts. They're bounty hunters and mercenaries.
As an Enforcer, you tend to have a background involving weapons and teamwork.
Outside of the colonies there is no society, practically speaking. The only semblance of order is an honor-based system; a merchant's reputation is just as important as his money. Likewise, those who operate the fuel depots out in deep space, those who run mining operations, those who open neutral spaceports to merchants, neutrals, and navy personnel alike, they all have one thing in common, and that is the standard to which they are held.
In space, there are tens of thousands of people just like you. The only way to differentiate yourself is to hold yourself to the utmost standards. This is where you get the Nobles: the highest tier of trustworthiness when it comes to suppliers of deep space goods and resources.
Manufactories in space and on inhospitable worlds tend to be isolated from the colonies. However, their proper operation requires manufactured parts from the colonies. These operations, being so isolated from the job market, tend to be run by families with an interest in branching out and spreading their name as far as the stars.
Most of these remote holdings are family-owned, as there isn't much of a population in deep space to support higher levels of governance. Thus, the families that own these holdings are free to adopt the trappings and customs of whichever new or ancient nations they like; codes of honor, chivalry, and networks of trust are a staple. Even political marriages sometimes exist, serving as collateral to guarantee honest dealings.
Out in space, goods flow from place to place; colonies need raw materials for construction; the various mining operations and mass ice farms require tech from the colonies to stay in production. Those who travel deep space are often centuries old, having spent most of their lives in stasis aboard a merchant vessel. Merchants who stick close to colonies are often much older, biologically, either too poor to afford stasis or unwilling to go on trips that justify it.
Merchants can abide by the system and play by the rules, trading with the nobility and facilitating commerce. They can also pursue more lucrative if riskier paths: smuggling, human trafficking, arms dealing, war profiteering, the possibilities are endless.
Some people live alone in the depths of space. They might form microcolonies with other people, or simply live in remote places as part of their careers as scientists studying the natural world. Others take on roles as hermits, monastic-types, retirees, and disgruntled refugees who can't find a place to be accepted.
Independents come in all shapes and sizes, and there's no telling what they might specialize in. Some wield ancient technology amassed by transient tech cults, others are used to the rigors of space and hold a lot of value as crew. Space is a big place.
Freelancers are people who live on their ships, often with no prospects for a stable career and no guarantee of putting food on the table. They usually get by as bounty hunters and mercenaries, or as cargo runners who undercut merchants travelling through dangerous space. Technically they spend most of their lives in stasis, travelling place-to-place, but sometimes VR programs and simulations allow them to train in-flight and make better use of their time.
Freelancers are comfortable in space and won't hesitate to pull the trigger on bad situations. Freelance life is a life of uncertainties.
(No, not the anime. God no.)
Tau Ceti hosts one planet in the habitable zone called Freon. On this world there is no land, nor is there a solid surface for many kilometers down. The ecosystem on the planet depends on colonial jellyfish that migrate between the surface and the ocean floor, concentrating nutrients in a readily-available food source.
While there does exist a luxury market for Freonite 'catfish,' as they're called, the human presence down here is minimal. Attempts to start floating colonies collapsed long ago, dispersing their former inhabitants as roaming pirate bands, too poor to afford a trip to space by rockets. Some of them made it into space by attacking researchers and the occasional fisherman, or bargaining with them, while others have grew used to their way of life and perhaps sell fish to merchants.
Some people in the system have managed to accrue so much power and clout to be considered an elite of sorts. Often found aboard a yacht, sometimes in stasis for the sake of extending their lifespan, other times relaxing or pursuing refined interests.
They are the Magnates. Suck up to them and they'll shower you with gifts and business opportunities, oppose them and you'll find hired guns coming at you from every corner.
Magnates have once had tremendous physical resources at their disposal. They very rarely turn to piracy, but if they do, it typically means they've somehow lost all their wealth in a flash, either conned or threatened out of it. They're easily recognizable but that's a handicap as well as a plus.
Then fill out the form below.
Name:
Path:
Physical Age: (And/or biological age if you've entered stasis at some point)
Appearance: (Self-explanatory)
Personality: (Describe the first impressions your character would give. Don't focus on the deeper aspects of personality, since that's spoken through action)
Bio: (What did your character do? Science? Criminal activities? Worked for a salary?)
Skill: (Pick a broad area such as tinkering, developing new products, biology, medicine, and so on. You get +1 to all rolls, modifying the dice themselves and not the number of dice. This will have no effect on your combat rolls.)
Physical Stats: (Minimum is 3. You have 18 extra points to distribute. Maximum is 10)
Strength : 3 (Mightiness stat. Helps in melee and using arms/upper body)
Dexterity : 3 (Agility and physical finesse. Helps with accuracy and hands)
Speed : 3 (Movement stat. Helps with movement and using legs/kicks)
Reflex : 3 (Intellect stat. Lets you take advantage of weaknesses and opportunities)
Constitution : 3 (Represents composure, and reduces stat loss from damage)
Endurance : 3 (Determines how fast you recover, and stat point regeneration)
HP: 20/20
This game will have a
Ship Thread with no player limit. The game will start off with 6-10 people in the ship at most, and proceed to pick up people on the waitlist whenever the ship arrives at a port of call.
Players are free to make decisions however they want, by democracy, electing a captain, committing mutiny, whatever the hell you want.
Whenever players leave the ship to go on a mission, a separate thread will be spawned, taking a limited amount of players. Most missions will run 4-6 players depending on interest.
In general I will try to keep the ship and mission in sync. This means that during a mission many shipborne tasks may be delayed IRL to let the mission people catch up.
Also there's a Discord:
https://discord.gg/4eMDu6F
Author
Topic: Plight of the Atomic [Space Pirate RPG] (Read 3263 times)