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RPG: FTL


Alex Humva

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FTL

Faster Than Light

Hosted by Alex Humva, Co-Hosted by young sinatra

The Setup

It is 95 Standard Years since the discovery and application of FTL by humanity. Since then they've joined the greater stage of the galaxy, with their part of it dominated by five other races. The Engi, a cybernetic species, has formed a loose alliance with the humans to make the Federation. The Rockmen lay off to the outer regions of known space, a secretive and reclusive race. The Slugs live in thick nebulae and harsh worlds, slimey telepathic creatures pawning their services across the galaxy. The Mantis, an insectoid and warlike race, are well known as pirates and mercenaries in the disputes that trouble the galaxy. Finally, the Zoltan have appeared on the galactic scene, beings of pure energy with a strong legalistic way of thinking.

But in the year 94 ALT, disaster has struck the humans. The Mantis, fearful of humanity's growing colonial influences and the threat the Federation poses to their unrivaled stance as the galaxy's warriors, has struck a decisive blow against the planet Earth itself. Millions of casualties in the Sol system and dozens of raids against Earth's colonies has traumatized the whole race. The Federation responded with total war, convincing the Zoltans to join in on the struggle. The Mantis have made friends of their own, swaying the reclusive Rockmen to their side. Now, the UFS Kestrel has been brought out of drydock, given a mission straight from High Command: to reach Zoltan space and deliver important data to the Zoltan Ministers. Any means necessary to do this have been authorized; Federation battlefield commissioning powers have been granted to the Colonel of the Kestrel. The information will make it through, lest yet another blow be brought to humanity.

How The Game Works

Player characters in this game are members of the UFS Kestrel, a newly commissioned cruiser designed to be small enough to evade detection but large enough to pack a punch. If your character has been pre-approved before the game starts, then you start on on the ship, right off the bat. If you approved afterwards, you can be picked up from a station, or, if you’d like to make a more flashy appearance, can be picked up after a plot event. Want to be an escaped slave? The Kestrel will run into a slaver and we’ll see how that goes. Your character can be just about any profession, so long as it makes some sort of sense for the setting, and can be one of the listed races. Custom races are, regrettably, not allowed for simplicity’s sake, you can however have a modified race, within reason and approval of course. That being said, any modified character should have a legitimate reason for why that character was modified.

The World

The game takes place in the universe of the indie game FTL, with some liberal fact extrapolation and content adding. While the game took place in the distant future, during a struggle within humanity, this game takes place a while before that, though still at an ambiguous point in the future. It has been 95 years since humanity perfected faster than light travel, during which time they have become a galactic force to be reckoned with. With over 20 solar systems to call their own and many more planets colonized, humanity has made itself a force to be reckoned with amongst the already-present alien species. Humanity continually finds itself held back by its internal divisions, however, and currently exists as two major powers; the Terran Confederacy, calling Sol and a few colonies their own, and the League of Independent Planets, colonies who have broken off and united together into an alliance.

The technology of this era is futuristic, but not quite cyberpunk or anything of the sort. While humanity has progressed significantly since its earlier days, it is still distinctly recognizable. The primarily difference between our world and theirs is the full adoption of space travel and the invention of the titular FTL drive. This drive allows for instantaneous travel between solar bodies as well as planetary bodies, though only in specific circumstances. However, communication technology remains slower than light, and as such data must be transmitted physically. The weaponry of this period relies heavily on a mixture of kinetic, missile, and laser technology. Worth noting is that drone warfare is not yet popular amongst humanity, with poor AI holding it back significantly.

Of course, there are also the other sapient species of this universe, detailed below.

The Species

  • The Engi: Humanity’s closest allies, these semi-robotic creatures are a curious species. Entirely dependent on their cybernetic enhancements to survive, the Engi are nonetheless an organic species. They are, at first glance, devoid of emotion, though prolonged exposure to the Engi is quick to tell that these robotic creatures can experience just as wide a range of emotions as a human. They are the most advanced species in the galaxy, as well as the only power that kept the Mantis in check before the arrival of humanity. Engi are trained from an young age to be master engineers, and are renowned through the galaxy for their ability to build and repair just about anything.

  • The Zoltan: A very legalistic species, little is known about the Zoltan. They are constructed entirely of contained energy, glowing an unearthly green and totally unaffected by such things as lack of air to breath. Thanks to their visology, the Zoltan are capable of exuding significant amounts of energy, enough to power significant portions of starships. Other than these qualities, however, not much else is clear about the Zoltans. Even the Engi are unsure of the Zoltan, saying they arrived to the galactic scene shortly after humanity did, though in that time the Zoltan have aggressively expanded across worlds uninhabitable to other species.

  • The Rockmen: Creatures of living stone, the Rockmen are an exceedingly reclusive race. Few outsiders are allowed past their border worlds, though pirates make frequent excursions outside of Rock space. Despite their reclusive nature, though, small fleets are often seen traveling through the galaxy, owing to the nomadic nature of many of the Rock. Due to their vastly different biology, Rockmen are capable of surviving a variety of different environments, though oddly enough they still require oxygen to breath.

  • The Slugs: Slimey creatures that have made their homes in the dense nebulae of the galaxy, the slugs are merchants at heart. Born with an urge to gather things, most slugs have turned to capitalism, while others take the more direct route of piracy. Still more simply outsource themselves, as slugs are also born with telepathy. A good slug can detect a sapient thought at nearly two light years away, and are more than capable of serving as lie detectors for negotiations.

  • The Mantis: A terrifying insectoid race, the Mantis have been at war with themselves or the galaxy as long as anyone can remember. Looking similar to their Earth namesake, Mantis are born to litters numbering in the thousands, and must eat their brethren to survive infancy. From this system emerges tough creatures with exceedingly short tempers, though remarkably intelligent for a species of their sort, and long lived. A typical Mantis can, if it survives, live until the ripe old age of 85. Most do not, though, as Mantis fight and die on a daily basis.

The Glossary

The Federation: An interstellar organization, currently made up of humans, Engi, and Zoltan. It sets general policy and serves as a military alliance. Its primary mission statement is to ensure the safety and well-being of the galaxy.

FTL: Faster Than Light, used to describe the main mode of transportation in this universe. FTL travel is facilitated by special FTL crystals, which expend the massive amounts of energy required to travel so quickly. These crystals are burnt up when used though, and only last long enough to travel to a nearby star system. Used crystals and poorer quality crystals still have residual energy however, even if they aren’t enough to swing a ship across the galaxy, and are often used to power energy weapons.

The Kestrel

The Kestrel is a three tiered blockade runner, the first of its kind, designed to hold a considerable crew but not be so large as to draw attention. Extremely modular in design, it is capable of being upgraded significantly, and indeed, hot-swapping weapons at supply ports is one of its main features. The layout of the Kestrel is simple enough; this image gives its general body type and color scheme. Its bottom deck is devoted to cargo and supplies, as well as the storage of a small land-rover for transporting said supplies. Its middle deck is where the battle stations and bridge can be found, as well as the central engine control area. The bridge itself is out on the forward end of the ship, with battlestations along the sides. On the top is a small bunk area and the mess hall, where the crew can sleep and eat.

The Crew

Current list of positions aboard the Kestrel. You’re welcome to make up your own position, subject to approval by the staff of course. The old list has been decommissioned, in light of a new and improved list in the discussion topic. Please refer to it for all things characters and profiles.

The Rules

  1. Follow all BZPower rules.

  2. Common sense, common sense, common sense. Use it please.

  3. No autohitting without prior plotting or excuses as to why you’re going to hit your opponent.

  4. Death is a fact of life in the void; players could conceivably kill other players in the cramped quarters of the spaceship, though one assumes the rest of the crew wouldn’t like that too much. In addition, away missions can turn really bad, and your character could die there from a bad decision. Life happens, death happens.

  5. No godmodding, this includes metagaming. Death may come easy, but you still can’t eradicate the whole crew in one go.

  6. Listen to the staff; if you have a problem with a decision, do so in a respectful manner.

  7. You are limited to two characters (at a time), unless otherwise given permission. This is to keep the ship from suffering overpopulation.

  8. Have fun.

The Profile

Name: (Self-explanatory)

Gender: (Yep)

Age: (How old are you?)

Species: (There’s six available)

Profession: (What do you do aboard the Kestrel?)

Skills: (We all have some; keep it to three please.)

Items: (Any particular weapons or sentiments or tech that came with you?)

Appearance: (Even aliens differ.)

Personality: (Why does your character do what they do? What makes them tick?)

Biography: (What’s your life story?)

Edited by Engineer Alexandra Humva
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"In short, my English Lit friend, living in a mental world of absolute rights and wrongs, may be imagining that because all theories are wrong, the earth may be thought spherical now, but cubical next century, and a hollow icosahedron the next, and a doughnut shape the one after." -Isaac Asimov, responding to a letter he had received saying that scientific certainty was false, The Relativity of Wrong

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IC (Ameli)


Ameli Halik was, to put it lightly, bored to tears. Ever since the incident in the mess hall (the xeno had it coming, she’d maintain that to her dying day) the crew had taken to avoiding her. She shook her head sadly and vowed to drain a little bit more of her wine stash when she was off-duty. They just didn’t understand, some of them did certainly, but many of them were so naïve or, failing that, didn’t grasp the insidious nature of the alien. It was simple really. Aliens weren’t like humans.


They couldn’t be. Their culture saw to that. They didn’t think like humans, many of them didn’t feel like humans, to them, humans were expendable or a threat. Humanity could depend on no one but itself, it had to stand alone in the universe, against the tides of the alien filth that assailed it on every front. She knew this. How could she not? The history of the Imperium proved what humanity could do to it's own. Their tribe, so to speak, if humanity was capable of that, then the cold, eldritch minds of the aliens could do things that would make even the most monstrous human sick.


Still. She was the one regarded with fear, not the aliens. The poor fools. She couldn’t blame them really, they hadn’t seen what Vendar had seen. Few had. Few understood the true nature of the cold, indifferent universe. She wagered they would before the mission was done. With a sigh, Ameli returned to her sorting. Those reports weren’t going to file themselves.


IC (Devas)


Devas Sindorin sat on his makeshift cot in the engine room, deep in thought. He had some time before the others showed up for work and he had woken from his rest early. He’d been offered a dorm with the rest of the crew, but he refused to allow himself to be vulnerable in the presence of the ever-plotting xeno vermin. They’d taken his husband from him, but they wouldn’t get him. Not before he made them pay in gallons for every drop of blood his beloved had shed. They would pay and pay and pay.


He was grateful to the Colonel. There was a women who knew her duty, who had the calculating mind needed to see this mission through. She’d given him a chance to make the Mantis, the xenos, pay for all they had taken from him. Still, his loss was small compared to the pain humanity currently endured. The Mantis, the xenos, had much to answer for. He hoped to a god he didn’t believe in that humanity would take the route of strength, and not show any mercy to the alien monsters, the frenzied, barely sentient butchers who had taken so very much from them.


If they did, he supposed it’d be down to men like him to finish the job. Men who knew that showing mercy to the alien was like exposing your throat to a rabid beast.

Edited by Basilisk

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC - Kelezaag:

 

Kelezaag stared into her soup, admiring the elegant curves of her head in the brown-tinted reflection, as she formulated her game-plan. Actually, game-plan wasn't quite right. Battle-plan was more accurate. After all, it was a battle in its own right; from the moment she had set foot on this human-dominated vessel, she had been exposed to a thousand dangers, from lynching to assassination. Aggression would be punished with instant death. Withdrawing would be interpreted as plotting, and punished with instant death. She had to intimidate everyone on-board the Kestrel enough that they wouldn't dare try to slip a dagger in her, but not so much that they banded together to rip her to shreds. It would be a fine balance, and nearly impossible to pull off.

 

Just the way I like it, she thought.

 

Ripples in her soup interrupted her musings, and alerted her to the passing of another crewman on his way to his grub. As most did, he stopped for a moment to gawk at the murderous brute, sitting nonchalantly as she sipped from a bowl. She half-turned in her seat to return his gaze. Her eyes were cold and dead, and her face revealed none of the thoughts that were going through her mind. Not that the ignorant fool would recognize them if it did. Mantis expressions were far too subtle for humans to comprehend. Human expressions, on the other hand, were like staring at a screen that displayed exactly what they were feeling at any moment. "I want food," "I want what he has," "I want that ugly green thing to crawl in a hole and die."

 

She turned back around, and addressed a nearby Slug. A string of clicks and beats of her wings sounded. "You. Pass that mineral the humans call salt," her translation device repeated. Its voice was smooth and low. "Careful not to get any on yourself." She parted her jaws in a reasonable facsimile of a human grin.

 

After finishing her meal, she icily stared down anyone that looked at her funny, made a few snide comments here and there, and showed absolutely no hostility towards any superiors she passed. As a general rule, she didn't insult, speak ill of, or look twice at her boss until he/she was dead.

 

As she sat in her bunk, she grabbed a datapad, and wrote in her journal.

 

"Today: A rousing success."

 

She tucked the device away, and began wandering the ship, making note of the various rooms and hallways. She didn't want to run into a bathroom or other dead end by mistake, if she ended up being pursued by half the crew, after all.

Edited by Burnmad: Toa of Emoticons

Avatar by Brickeens

 

 

 

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IC [Colonel Ojeda]

 

"The more I think about this trip, the more I think that I made a terrible, terrible, mistake." The Colonel sat in her room, up on a little foldout table, eating her food. Opposite her was the Lieutenant Colonel, the ship XO and only person aboard that the Colonel could talk to comfortably. "We have bugs, slugs, and colonials, all in the same tin can. Maybe it adds to the disguise, maybe it makes people think there is simply no way we could be actual Federation agents, but that isn't going help us if we all end up dead in a riot. Or a mutiny. I wouldn't put it past the pilot to mutiny. At least our security detail is mostly loyal. That Mantis needs a revolver to the head to make sure it'd make the correct choice in that situation."

 

The Colonel looked at the little plate of stirfry, wondering what exactly the meat was. Didn't taste like chicken, and that was always a bad sign with space meat. "This pessimism isn't going help my blood pressure any; did you see the news capsule? The Assembly just approved a new colony in Engi space. Sending our people out to colonize, in a time when Mantis raiders have been reported as far in as Alpha Centauri. Someone needs to be shot for that one."

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"In short, my English Lit friend, living in a mental world of absolute rights and wrongs, may be imagining that because all theories are wrong, the earth may be thought spherical now, but cubical next century, and a hollow icosahedron the next, and a doughnut shape the one after." -Isaac Asimov, responding to a letter he had received saying that scientific certainty was false, The Relativity of Wrong

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IC: Ovechkin sighed. Rockman sighs sounded less like a sigh and more like the rumbling of a heavy object dragging along the ground. It did give a very satisfying, visible shake to the table he was leaning on though. He looked down, staring at the plate of spaghetti in front of him. If there was one thing his time studying on earth had taught him, it was that synthesized mess hall food didn't compare to the actual thing.

 

"Never did I think I would wish I had not visited Italy..." He said quietly, or at least as quietly as a Rock could. He shifted his gaze from his meal to a Slug that was sitting down at the other end of the hall, a display mounted on the wall showing some sort of Slug program that he watched intently. "Nothing to watch makes it taste worse..." Ovechkin clambered up, taking his tray with him and heading towards the crew quarters. After a bit of walking, he arrived on Colonel Ojeda's room. He raised a curled fist, tapping lightly on the metal door yet still causing small dents.

 

"Colonel Ojeda, I have a problem I wish to discuss. Permission to enter?"

Edited by Necro
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IC: Ashley Landes

 

It was Ashley's favorite time of the day, lunch time! Ashley stood in line, holding her tray with both hands as she looked at all the choices the mess hall had to offer. All two of them that is. It was either one MRE pack or the other.

 

Yeah, a space vessel wasn't the best place to get your choice of cuisine, but Ashley wasn't going to complain! Today they had...some sort of fish? She wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it looked kind of like fish. Tasted like chicken however. Heck everything but the chicken tasted like chicken.

 

Ashley sat at the nearest table that was unoccupied and began to eat. She sat alone for the moment, as she didn't see anyone who she knew, or that wanted to talk with her. She wasn't sure but it seemed like people were avoiding her for some reason, though she didn't know why. She occasionally caught people staring at her but they quickly looked away once she spotted them.

 

It was okay though! Because Ashley's plan was to become friends with everyone on the ship! Even if it took months it was a task she would strike to achieve! She chowed down on her space fish as her tail perked up and started wagging. Her ears moved in all sorts of directions as they picked up sounds from all over the mess hall....

 

She still couldn't figure out why no one would talk to her. Maybe her hair was a mess?

 

 

OOC: Open for interaction :3

Edited by Yoko Littner

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

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IC -- Francis

"No wonder humans are such dry creatures..."

Francis gazed up and down the buffet line, taking inventory of what options were available. Crackers. Bread. Potatoes. It was a wonder a good stiff breeze didn't just send the human beings scattering into so many flakes. "Like those Flakes of Corn from the Kelloggs."

Francis slithered his way down the line, filling his tray with what few items seemed edible. Behind him, more than one individual slipped on the trail of ooze left behind and fell, their trays of food scattering about. Francis paid no mind to the complaints coming his way. Anyone too stupid to watch where they were going deserved to fall. After leaving the line, Francis gave the mess hall a quick psionic ping, in order that he may find an individual of significant intellectual caliber that he may share a meal and a conversation with. He was disappointed to find there were none present that met even his lowest acceptable standard. Frustrated, he chose an empty table in a far corner in order that he may enjoy his meal in solitude.

"Sauce of apples. Meal of oats. Dressing of France. Cheese of nacho. Such a pitiful meal." Francis planted his left elbow on the table to prop his head up while he idly stirred the food on his tray into a single, muddy pool. "It would serve me well to discuss a more appropriate menu with whomever our chef is." He lifted a spoonful of food into the air and studied it for a brief moment before tipping it out and watching it fall back to his tray with a dull splut. "I'll never understand humans and their phobia for mucus. They so much as feel the slightest bit up their olfacory cavities and they feel the need to be rid of it. They should embrace it! Cover their whole bodies as I have! There's a reason a slug's lips are never cracked and bleeding." As content as he was going to be with his puddle of sustenance, Francis laid his spoon down and reached for his straw. He stuck one end of it in the puddle on his tray and slowly sipped away.

"Humans are such peculiar creatures..."


Takuma Nuva

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If The Good Lord had intended us to walk

He would not have invented roller skates.
-- Willy Wonka

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IC [Colonel Ojeda]

 

"Hmm." The Colonel glanced at the door. "Our Rockman joins us." She tapped on the table with her mechanical finger, allowing the door to slide open. "What's on your mind, Mr. Ovechkin?"

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"In short, my English Lit friend, living in a mental world of absolute rights and wrongs, may be imagining that because all theories are wrong, the earth may be thought spherical now, but cubical next century, and a hollow icosahedron the next, and a doughnut shape the one after." -Isaac Asimov, responding to a letter he had received saying that scientific certainty was false, The Relativity of Wrong

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IC: Ashley Landes

 

Ashley's overly sensitive ears picked up the sounds of slurping coming from the far end of the room, there was a lone table with one of the ship's slug crew members eating in solitude.

 

He looked really lonely. Ashley could fix that! =D

 

Luckily for her she was only a few tables away from the slug's, so she figured it would be relatively easy to catch it's attention. Especially after she quickly shuffled over a few tables closer, there was simply no one else anywhere near them.

 

"Hello!" she called cheerfully, give him a wave.

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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IC: J. Taylor

 

Jess Taylor was having a good day; not too long ago he was working odd-jobs and barely getting by in life, but now he had a great job in the Federation, was far away from his crummy home colony, and was about to have a lunch that wasn't something that didn't look like it had been pulled out of the refuse.

 

He went through the line simply enough and now had to find a seat. There weren't any obvious choices, but he decided to pick an near empty table, where there was only a human woman sitting by herself.

 

J. Taylor had never been big on socializing, always being the workaholic focusing on his job--his duty, but he thought that she would either keep to herself or at least she wouldn't think too much of the mauveshirt with two colored eyes.

 

For better or worse he went ahead and sat next to lonely lady.

 

 

OCC: That offer for interaction still stand Yoko?

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IC Vincent Liu

"Yes sir, I did wash my hands." The mechanic showed his hands to the meal dispenser-person, proving that his hands were, in fact, clean. At the insitence of pretty much all of the mess staff, Vincent had taking to compulsively scrubbing off his hands every time he came for a meal. The same couldn't be said for the toolbox he was currently carrying, as while the handle had been wiped down, the box itself was dirty as ever; the real question though was why he was even carrying it in the first place.

 

Getting a meal tray (not bothering to check what it was; he didn't care about taste anyway), he sat down at a table that was unoccupied except for a woman with messy hair (Ashley). Without addressing anyone, he proceeded to tear into his food; he had missed the previous meal due to being busy at work. Even as he was eating, his thoughts were directed as to what he needed to do next. "There's a pipe in furnace room C that needs changing..."

 

OOC open for interaction from anybody

Edited by A Magus With Class
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OOC

I feel it worth pointing out as everyone talks about NPCs in the background doing things, every person on this boat is a player. I'm not discouraging tripping people up on your slimey trails or bantering with the food dispensers, just keep in mind that there aren't just random NPC peeps, they're all players. So avoid assuming too much.

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"In short, my English Lit friend, living in a mental world of absolute rights and wrongs, may be imagining that because all theories are wrong, the earth may be thought spherical now, but cubical next century, and a hollow icosahedron the next, and a doughnut shape the one after." -Isaac Asimov, responding to a letter he had received saying that scientific certainty was false, The Relativity of Wrong

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OOC: Sure!

 

IC: Ashley Landes

 

One minute, Ashley is trying to get the attention of a grumpy slug. Next thing she knows there are two guys sitting at the same table as her!

 

"Well hi!" She greeted.

Edited by Yoko Littner

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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IC:

 

Lieutenant Colonel Sophie Chastain knew what was on her mind. Whoever was in charge of supplies for the Kestrel's voyage had put some unholy subgenus of white trout (Trout! Like the kind you would leave on a date's doorstep if they bailed on prom night!) in the stirfry. The Colonel talked about aliens and slugs and humans all trying to coexist peacefully on the ship, but that was child's play if you had the right attitude about it and a lot of patience. Chastain wasn't about to share a vessel with trout. That was the straw that broke the Rockman's back.

 

Maybe she'd talk to the kitchen staff about letting her whip up some gumbo. "Ever been lucky enough to taste the best gumbo in the Quarter?" echoed in her mind - her old selling pitch when she'd throw open the window to her sister's food truck and try her hand at working the kitchen for the afternoon.

 

"No, I haven't," some jock had replied once, seconds before his fingers were tragically caught under the poorly-supported side window of the food truck, "because I keep ordering from you."

 

Live and learn. Her gumbo was better than ever now. When the Rockman began pummeling the door with a poke, she saw her chance and stood at the sound of the entrance's hydraulic hiss. The abomination-in-a-tray was discreetly chucked into a wastebin until such time as she could find a suitable airlock with which to properly eradicate every ounce of the food supply that contained this allegedly-harmless species of freshwater fish and undiluted blandness. Ovechkin walked through the door with a lumbering salute, which Chastain returned cursorily, first to the Rockman and then to the Colonel. Her steps were brisk and fast, and carried her out of the Colonel's bunk. When she was alone to her reactions, the XO gagged and washed her mouth out as quickly as she could. The trout was bitter, and tasted of shame.

 

Nothin' some quality gumbo can't fix. If only Sophie knew how to prepare some.

 

-Tyler

Edited by young sinatra

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC (Ameli)

 

Ameli glanced at the door to her office, she'd heard one of the xenos lumber by a few moments ago. Part of the reason she had her V-45 out on her desk. Just in case. Not like she had anything else to do,the last of the file-shuffling was done, it'd been simple enough really. Just some forms to fill out in case they stopped any of the nearby systems, some quick lists on who accepted bribes, who didn't, the who's who of their cultures and other such things. Ever since the Mess Hall incident she'd had more then enough time to keep up to date on the daily busywork that got pushed her way. She'd noted the time, thanks to the old-style clock she'd indulged in. Everyone else would probably be in the mess hall right about now. Except for the other Vendarian, he liked to use his off-time to brood.

 

Shame that, she could really have used some conversation. Nothing left to do but wait for the off-shifts and snatch some food from the mess hall. She certainly wasn't eating in there again.

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC:

 

 

The ship was insane.

 

Of that, Major William Daniels was entirely certain. The very first thing he had done upon establishing his quarters was take a quick look through the personnel files, and after that brief look, that fact was firmly cemented in his head. The crew consisted of Earthborn humans, colonials, two Venderians, a few Slugs, a Rockman, and two Mantis. Mantis. And best of all, Wiliam was no longer simply a bystander; No, he was in direct command of a good half of these people.

 

Somehow, the insanity didn't really bother him. He'd known it would be an odd mission when he was assigned to it, and with how things were going on Earth... Well, it was just one kind of insanity to another, less subtle, kind of insanity. Perhaps he was optimistic, but he was reasonaby confident that order could be maintained. There had been one incident on board thus far, but with the cultures involved, it could have been much worse. The crewmember responsible did not seem to sseek out any furter violence, either. In fact, she seemed to have made a point of remaining isolated from just about everyone. He had, however, noted that the Mantis were rather unsettling to many crewmembers.

 

Not all that surprising, he supposed as he idly took a bit of his meal without looking at it. Fish of some kind. Probably trout. Fresh trout was delicious, but this... Rather bland, really. Nothing inherently wrong with it, it was just bland. He might have put some salt on it if the kitchen ever seemed to have any in stock. Considering who, or rather what, was responsible for running it he wasn't really surprised at the lack. The food wasn't bad, though. No worse than any other ship he'd been on, and even better than some of them.

 

The Major sat in his quarters, left hand holding his personal tablet, right his spoon. Every now and again he swiped a finger across the screen to turn the page, but other than that, he was mostly still. The novel he'd selected for the day was a good read, a science fiction story of reasonable renown from the late twenty first century. The story seemed solid, though he had to smile at a few of the predicted technologies.

 

With a sigh, he set the device down on his desk, using his now-free hand to pick up a mug of coffee and take a long sip from it. A moment later he stood, picking up his bowl and triggering the door mechanism with a finger so he could exit his quarters. As nice as it would be to simply read all day, he had work to do, crew to keep an eye on, and weapon calibrations to check. Not all that long a to-do list, but it needed to be done.

 

And he suspected the chef might be irked if he failed to return his tray. Superior officer or no, an annoyed Slug was not what one wanted to deal with on a long voyage.

 

OOC: Major Daniels en route to cafeteria, anyone who wants interaction is free to intercept him. If not, he'll just keep going til he gets there. :P

Edited by Simon the Digger

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Estelle Walker

 

The Major sighed as she continued to look at her roster as she walke down the hall. The Colonel has got to be joking... What type of fighter pilots did she give me?! A hired fighter, he'll probably have issues with listening to authority, they always do, a woman that genetically engineered herself into a feline creature, ugh... I'm a dog person... And... A mantis.

 

The last one was self explanatory. She could still feel it, the wound that was now a scar covered by a tattoo, on her back. That was from her only face to face, no fighter to block her way, experience from a mantis. But... She was flight commander and she'd have to put her duties first.

 

She was still looking at the roster when she felt her body collide with another solid force. Did I run into a wall ag- oh... As the Major looked up, she could she that it wasn't a wall but a man of her rank.

 

"Sorry!"

Edited by Rawrmouse
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IC:

 

"Daniels! What do you know about purging white trout from confined areas?" rang out a commanding voice, bouncing off the sterilized walls of the Kestrel.

 

Yup. Just an average question on an average voyage. Yup.

 

-Tyler

Edited by young sinatra

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

My room is... Thataway..? The young man thought, quietly snuck through the halls as he tried to find the room he was to stay in. This was Rehn's first real stay aboard any ship, and he was hopelessly confused. He could figure out where the engines were easily, but not his room?

 

As such, Au'Rehn's stay aboard the Kestrel began.

 

OOC: Au'Rehn, open for interaction.

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IC:

 

The moment before collision, William raised his arm to ensure that he didn't spill his coffee, rocking back slightly with the impact to prevent the loss of his balance before taking a step in the same direction, ultimately ending a step back and more or less in the same state as before. Almost subconsciously, he took a sip from his mug.

 

"No, no problem, Major Walker. I should have been paying attention where I was going. No harm done either way."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC (Ameli)

 

Having nothing better to do, Ameil had dipped into her wine stash just a tad bit earlier then she'd planned. Her work for the day was done, leaving the rest of it completely open. "Ah, the wonders of having no social life." So, there she sat, behind her wooden-topped metal desk, wine glass in hand and bottle on perched atop her collection of data slates. Since no one was scheduled to call upon her today and, since her V-45 was within easy reach, she'd elected to shed her gasmask. Rather hard to drink with one on. Slowly, she raised the glass to her lips and stipped a small amount from it. No need to rush. This was probably going to be the highlight of her day.

 

Once she was finished, maybe she'd go watch paint dry somewhere.

 

That'd be fun.

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC:

 

"Keeps me going." William replied, shrugging slightly. He took another sip from the mug in his left hand, his right holding the bowl he needed to return idly at his side. "Tea's nice, but it's not usually string enough for my tastes. Certainly not after a few months on a starship in deep space."

 

"Thus, coffee."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC Vincent

The mechanic listened to the conversation between the woman with the cat ears and a third person who and sat down at the table with mild interest. He didn't say anything though; starting a conversation might lead to spending more time than necessary in the mess, and he couldn't afford to waste more time than necessary off of work,

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IC:

 

"Not to my knowledge, but if I had, I wouldn't have noticed. I don't pay much attention to exactly what coffee as long as it's caffeinated." Taking another sip out of habit, he shrugged slightly. "Well, I've got to get down to the mess hall before someone complains that I haven't brought my tray back."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Estelle

 

"Ugh... Souper on your case too? He caught Spot and I sneaking in for a midnight snack, now he always nags me about it." She said with a sigh. "Well.. I haven't eaten yet... Might as well. Do you mind if I tag along?"

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IC -- Francis

Francis was momentarily interrupted from his musings by the nearby human female, but pretended not to notice. "Clearly, she's of the opinion that I am in need of companionship. She could at least do the proper thing and be up-front about it instead of trying to ease her way over bit by bit. Much more honest that way." Francis considered acknowledging her presence for her entertainment if nothing else when two more human beings showed up and sat down. "Eh, so much the better." While the humans lost themselves in conversation, Francis turned a single eyestalk, stealing a sideways glance at the female. He noted that she looked curiously like a feline. "Felines lick themselves. I suppose that's a step in the right direction."

Francis eventually decided that, if nothing else, he should spend some time studying the humans' neural patterns in order to discern them from opposing forces in the future. He carried his tray behind him telekinetically and moved to join the others. He dropped his tray lightly to the table and popped his lips in greeting before proceeding to continue his slurping and mental scanning.


Takuma Nuva

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If The Good Lord had intended us to walk

He would not have invented roller skates.
-- Willy Wonka

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IC:

 

Strangeness can only be provided by contrast. Can was that contrast. The majority of the ship was sloppy, hired, mildly military, or alien. Can was neat, professional, an officer and a gentleman. His uniform, black with gold trim, was carefully pressed, algebraically neat. The sword at his side, electroplated gold hilt protruding from the sheath, glimmered as if it had been recently polished.

 

Everything about Can stood to contrast the rest of the crew. Once in the galley(Can had lived on ships his whole life, and insisted on proper terminology) Can quickly acquired a tray of food and set himself down at the same table as Taylor and Landes, though far enough away for them to ignore him if they didn't want to include him. He gave a curt nod to each of them before setting his reader on the table; it quickly projected a hologram of an old 22nd Century detective novel that he had found himself interested in. Occasionally he reached his hand into the hologram, flipping a page to read on.

That being said, thag thag thaggity thag thagness.

-Rover

 

"A memo was sent to Astaria asking if it would at all be possible to make a flying goat."

"The Astarians responded that making a goat fly would be trivial; making it land safely would be another matter entirely."

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IC: Ashley Landes

 

"Well, after I used my college funds for this...." she gestured at her cat ears. "...I realised I needed to find a job. And after the whole mantis invasion the military seemed like a good option, I always liked flying, and I wanted to do something to help." Ashley paused as she noticed the slug and some other crew members joined their table. She gave them each a quick greeting.

 

"I didn't originally plan to become a fighter pilot, but that's where I scored the highest and showed the most promise. Endless amounts of training and here I am." She smiled.

 

"Sooooo..." Ashley drawled out, looking at everyone at the table. "...now that you all know a little about me, who wants to go next?" Getting to know a little about everyone was the first step in friendship after all. Plus it would increase team spirit and make them less likely to all die out in space, hopefully.

Edited by Yoko Littner

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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IC: J. Taylor

 

J. Taylor listened attentively to Landes' story until she finished; now content and seeing that his new feline-ish acquaintance wanted to branch out to the new arrivals of the no longer empty table, Taylor politely returned his focus to eating his lunch.

cheesebanner.jpg.4e180047b2ca502f2c43489af7b439da.jpg

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IC:

Ace was thinking.

He was thinking long and hard about everything.

And he was thinking about killing the Mantis on the ship.

He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, thinking. He had been doing this for some time now. His stomach growled, but he didn't move. The fact that there were Mantis on the ship Ace off horribly. Sure, they have been going for some time ow, but he was still angry.

He sat staring at the wall even more.

Freaking Mantis.

Ace's stomach growled again. He grunted in a sort of agreement with it, and stood up to make his way to the mess hall. It was time to eat.

OOC: Open for interaction, bump into him on his way or I'll just make an IC of him getting there and sitting down to eat.

and glaring angrily at mantises.

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Steam name: Ehksidian

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IC:

 

"Signed on about a decade ago. Spent some time as an Enlisted hunting pirates, became an officer, made my name in the battle for North Africa against the Mantis. Not much else to say." Can said, looking up. "Ended up security head, and your boss, Taylor. Landes, aren't you one of Estelle's pilots?"

That being said, thag thag thaggity thag thagness.

-Rover

 

"A memo was sent to Astaria asking if it would at all be possible to make a flying goat."

"The Astarians responded that making a goat fly would be trivial; making it land safely would be another matter entirely."

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IC:

 

Can, at hearing Estelle's voice, announced "Everybody duck" in a perfectly calm monotone before slowly, smoothly sinking under the table with a completely deadpan expression on his face. A moment later, he popped up, flashing Estelle a grin before returning to his meal.

That being said, thag thag thaggity thag thagness.

-Rover

 

"A memo was sent to Astaria asking if it would at all be possible to make a flying goat."

"The Astarians responded that making a goat fly would be trivial; making it land safely would be another matter entirely."

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