Aurora 4x
C# Fiction => General C# Fiction => Topic started by: Potat999 on December 04, 2020, 02:22:13 AM
-
Forward: This is C# fiction, but I'm not really sure if it's an AAR? Based on what I have typed up so far, this might end up more as a series of vignettes into important turning points of a C# game rather than an exact play by play. I plan to eschew reporting on a lot of 'details' - what exactly I am researching, building, etc. This is kind of a writing exercise for me I guess. Feedback appreciated, let me know what you like/hate/want more of. Apologies in advance, I'm no David Drake :).
Prelude:
YR-0, June 12
Shahrewar:
Tall pillars of cotton sprouted forth from the lands of the Perugi, capped by fire and glinting steel. Clan Indar was the first to launch - but not by much. Before the trajectories could be resolved, both Clans Sawar and Xeshm had launched as well - and not only at Indar. With Shahrewar’s 12400 km diameter, there was adequate time for many pillars to rise into the atmosphere, petering out in the troposphere. There, the glimmering metal caps pass each other, hanging like the sword of Damocles for an instant, before they fell.
Of the 14 some billion Perugia, roughly 190 million made it into the bunkers, primarily the young and their caregivers. The remainder watched the sky.
The Clan Heads were duty bound to lead from the front. Not a one would leave their posts across the world-spanning continent of Azar. Those posts, of course, tended to be ground zero for thermonuclear detonations. It was of no consolation to the average clansman that those who authorized these launches had been among the first atomized. In the years to come, all would envy such a peaceful demise.
Some say it is darkest before the dawn, but this is false. In the glowing solar fire the Perugi would learn that in fact, the brightest dawn precedes the coldest and darkest of nights.
Gaia:
A torrential wave of radiation burst forth across the small, methane tinged globe. But, the wave front did not simply wash over and past unnoticed. A fraction of it's energy would be absorbed by a massive and carefully attuned array of detectors - and in turn would be relayed to millions of Kapetyn domiciles. The massive radflux would blow out safety fuses in the millions of living quarters tuned to the feed - but not before a staggering flux was output. Dorsal electroreceptors overloaded, Kapetyn stumbled, stunned and jammed. Some aging individuals experienced a full overvoltage, shearing their connection to the weave.
The wash of EM, the dying light of billions of souls, was felt by the millions tuned to the feed viscerally, as though the strikes had hit their very communities.
Soon, a second wave of radiation would sweep across the globe. The weaving song was one of three parts - A high pitch trill of shock and horror. A dull thrum of loss and confusion. A rising tone of conviction.
Something unimaginable had occurred on the third planet of their star. Something that defied all reason. And, as they watched, the shock of that event was overridden by a dawning realization. Massive clouds of irradiated materials - formerly fertile soil, homes, sentients - hung in the air of Semichi III, spreading, blotting out the sun, fuzzing out the remaining incoming transmissions.
When that cloud fell, the real horror would begin. This had only been the prelude.
Something must be done.
-
I guess I'll alternate between in character vignettes and OOC posts with more AARish details for context? Not really sure what I'm going to end up with for a format here.
Anyhow, a quick overview of the game setup:
I'm playing two races.
The Perugi are a vaguely anthropoid/reptiloid oxygen/nitrogen breathing race from a hot Earthlike world. They are a conventional race. Initial pop 10B (the nukes killed 4 immediately). To help make them relevant later, I gave them a high growth rate and high pop density.
The Kapetyn are low-grav methane breathers (through SM hax) dwelling on the cold moon of a gas giant in the same system. They are a TN race - with a proviso. They have no ships, just some old yards. Initial pop ~2. 6b. To kneecap them a bit, I gave them low growth and low density, although I also gave them a research buff.
The two races will also have different psychologies and physiologies. The Perugi will be more 'human-ish', while I'm going to attempt to play/write the Kapetyn as a bit more alien in terms of decision making/thought process.
To simulate a massive nuclear exchange and corresponding nuclear winter, when I created the Perugi, I deleted 90% of their default factories and and a good bit of their research facilities, as well as all shipyards.
Then to really stir smeg up I dropped . 2ATM of frigisium on their planet to give them a nice ~-15% growth rate. I tossed them a few thousand infra to house ~200m, call them bunkers.
For story purposes, think of the frigisium not just as nuclear winter, but also fallout, general societal collapse, etc.
-
This seems interesting and different. I'm game for a fiction that's more narrative and less reporting in scope. With two races recovering from catastrophes, there's lots of potential for not only cooperation but also mistrust and power dynamics to spice things up.
-
Forward: This is C# fiction, but I'm not really sure if it's an AAR? Based on what I have typed up so far, this might end up more as a series of vignettes into important turning points of a C# game rather than an exact play by play.
That's absolutely fine, we've had similar style stories for VB6 Aurora in the past and they make for an excellent change of pace! Keep it coming.
-
Part I: The long night
YR 1, January
Shahrewar:
Clan Spuzgar, one of the last to launch, was also one of the first to re-emerge onto the surface of their new world. Spuzgar had wanted to believe that the doctrine of mutually assured destruction would be able to hold the peace - after all, it had held for 47 revolutions, perhaps the longest peace on the surface of Shahrewar since the first Perugi learned to sharpen a stick. Sadly, they were incorrect.
Not truly believing this day would come, Spuzgar's emergency shelters were inadequate, their stockpiles of food sparse. It would seem that the daemons above and below had deemed their sin of optimism required payment in blood.
A mere few months after the end, volunteers from the childrearers and non-combatants of the Spruzgar in Bunker III wrapped themselves in whatever they could to stave off the radioactive dust and ventured forth to search for food and fuels. They would be greeted by a new phenomenon - frozen water, falling from the sky- unheard of outside of the polar regions. Their world of chaparral and savanna had in the course of a few months become a tundra from pole to pole.
Another surprise would greet them: other Perugia, gaunt and haunted. The blasts had effectively leveled every city center and major military emplacement across the the planet. However, Perugia were a hardy species, armored and squat, adept at digging - not easily killed by a trifling structural collapse or flying glass. In fact - the majority of the species had survived the initial catastrophe, save those directly atomized or broiled in their own carapace by gamma rads. The largest killer in the last months had been starvation, followed closely by hypothermia, disease, and murder.
The survivors of Bunker III, lead out by Abbaseh Zirakzadeh, regarding this desolate landscape of dust and frozen water with dull acceptance. They knew that they were already dead - his team had not volunteered for this duty out of hope. In fact, quite the opposite. Once one has resigned oneself to one's inevitable demise, going through a few final tribulations seems a fairly minor inconvenience upon the path.
As they walked the empty streets of what had once been a quiet exurb of the capital, it became apparent that while some fuel for the generators may yet be scrounged, there would be little food. The hungry gaze of those who had once been his clanmates mere months ago made it readily apparent what the primary source of metabolic protein had been in the past months. Fortunately, their team was still relatively hale, and none of the shattered wrecks of what had once been Perugi favored their odds.
The results of their survey would be relayed to the remainder of the clan in the bunker below. The reality set in quickly - many of the older or less attached individuals would volunteer to end their struggle now to provide some additional sustenance to the clan. There was no reason to say no. Efforts to nurse more productivity from the limited hydroponics facility would be redoubled, with scavenged piping and mostly-filtered water at least being in good supply, and enough fuel to run the lights for now.
In this time, the course of action was very clear - try to survive. There was no real question of what must be done. As such, there was no question of leadership. No new clan heads were appointed - no clan councils were convened.
The Perugia had been totally shorn of their bonds of fealty - those who they were oathsworn to had been proven by events to have miscalculated badly. They had paid their debts to their suzerains with nuclear fire. There was no bustle to fill their positions, which were stained with the blood of billions.
In this time, it was not those who's great deeds and great pedigree demanded fealty who would step forward to lead. The age of great deeds lay dead and forgotten. Rather, responsibility would fall upon those who were bilked into the job by those with more sense. Abbaseh's act of being the first volunteer for the surface team had somehow segued into a role of clan chief in all but name, much to his chagrin.
Thus, one week later it fell to him to adjudicate the fate of the first Perugi within the Bunker III community to be found guilty of murder with intent to metabolize. Being an eminently practical Perugi, he dictated that the punishment would be death and metabolization. This was met with tail flicks of assent by the others present.
Of course, the carcass of the victim would not be allowed to go to waste either.
YR1, March
Gaia:
Cronos of Argyroupoli surveyed the yard which was his chosen post for the relief effort, floating in the great void and feeling the flux wash and crackle along his spines. It was good to be out in space again, rather than digging up tubers - he was one of the few Kapetyn who enjoyed the sharp, unfiltered feel of the flux here, unshielded by atmosphere. At times, floating in the darkness, he thought he could hear the quiet background song, echoes of the start of the universe.
The Argos yard was a bustle of activity for the first time in 42 cycles of Gaia about Semichi. The yard was now fully out of mothballs, and in her dual slipways lay the frames of the first two ships built by the Kapetyn in a generation.
To darkward, the Aphrodite’s bare spine lay in her slip. Her intended mission - to deliver tens of thousands of tonnes of terraforming equipment to Semichi’s third planet, as well as the infrastructure to support its operation, aide supplies for the inhabitants - shelters and rad scrubbers, generators, heaters, blowers, pumps, pre-mixed duricrete, filtered water and every conceivable sundry.
To sunward, a sister of the Aphrodite lay in an identical slip. To moonward the Assus yard could faintly be felt flickering to life as well, ready to birth the third of the triplets.
It may have been 42 cycles since the last launch from the Argo yard, but it had been far longer since both yards had been online at once - if ever they had. The archivists had confirmed records from the last system survey 8200 cycles ago which indicated 3 yards were involved, but records further back were now corrupted.
Cronos was not one prone to spine-spinning. Shaking himself from his reminisce, he drifts closer to the yard and within minutes has unfurled his spines to lay into an unfortunate Kapetyn laser welder with a wave of oscillating microwaves, blatting out safety protocols, inertial equations, and grounds for dismissal in a high definition over all 88 channels. A weak four channel signal of acquiescence with undertones of guilt is all the unfortunate dockworker is able to sqweek out past his overbearing jamming. His compatriots rustle anxiously, triple checking their safety lines and maglocks before continuing their work with somewhat more trepidation.
On the planet below, Alphios of Myndus’s massaged his lateral spines with a forelimb and sighed. His posting as Master Guru of Gaia had, until recently, been heaped with significant prestige and precious little actual responsibility. The Commune of Kapetyn seldom engaged in any activity without full consensus - which is to say it rarely did much of anything. This had been regarded as an ideal form of government by all parties - governor and governed. Unfortunately for Alphios, there was consensus now - consensus that something actually needed to be done, and oh what a task!
His spines re-aligned, he would replay the latest reports on factory output - strangely, the waveforms did not change on the second repetition. For the first time in a generation, there were reports of significant migrations of Kapetyn in from their freeholds and communes in the rift valleys to the city centers, to work in the factories. Kapetyn who previously had tilled the soil of their ancestral homes found themselves working long shifts building the goods that the relief effort would require. Tasks which had been automated since time immemorial would be once again done by forelimb and tooth in the ways of the ancients, out of a desperate urgency to increase capacity.
It was estimated that by the time the ships were launched, sufficient goods would have been manufactured to fill an Aprodite class vessel's holds 40 times over. This pure output was shocking, but it was not entirely a boon - for only three such ships would launch in the first wave. Estimates from Chronos and others were calling for at least 2-3 cycles of sustained shipbuilding activity across all of the yards before sufficient lift capacity was in place to handle Gaia's output, much less the backlog.
Without the lift capacity to move those hundreds of thousands of tonnes of material a year, billions would perish. Understanding this, the few space qualified Kaeptyn would work feverishly. Many more would be seeking their first qualifications for orbital work, adding fresh and untried hands to the mess that was the unprecedented and chaotic build up in orbit.
Besides lift capacity, there was another pressing issue. Yes, they could provide material aid - but could they provide any food? The Xenobiology team had been able to dig up some ancient records on Semichi III's fauna, and what they held was not very promising - differences in the worlds heavy metal contents, above and beyond the difference between methane and oxygen based metabolisms. Arsenic was apparently not an appropriate garnish for our neighbors. It was likely that in order to provide them any foodstuffs, we would first need to collect seeds from their world, then either build facilities to grow them in situ or bring them back to Gaia to try to grow them in climate and atmosphere controlled facilities.
Less than a year ago, Alphios largest concerns had been the annual census and deciding upon an official name for the previous year. The world was going mad and Alphios was slowly being dragged along behind.
Startled, Alphios pondered : I wonder if I could push 'the year of madness' past the conclave. For a moment he warbled a beat of mirth, causing his attendant to start and involuntarily pulse an interrogative.
Probably not. They would want something pithy like 'the year of concordant action'.
Edit: something in the formatting is adding extra spaces after each period, it's driving me nuts. Any ideas? :S
-
It's an anti-spam measure. New accounts get spaces added after periods so they can't post links.
Goes away after 5 or so posts I believe.
-
It's an anti-spam measure. New accounts get spaces added after periods so they can't post links.
Goes away after 5 or so posts I believe.
Ten posts, actually. Ask me how I know. :P
Very nice update, the narrative is moving along nicely and the personality of each race is very apparent. I look forward to seeing how these two species will interact once they actually meet one another "in person"!
-
June 15:
Bahraman Afsarzadeh was standing in line for his daily ration of tuber stew, one of the few vegetables which would still grow, at least during the summer months, under the unprotected sky. A tiny dash of garnish, grains and stalks from the hydroponics facilities and a few small cubes of a protean he tried his very best not to think about rounded out the dish. It was not really a good dish, but when hot it was significantly better than the insects and vermin he would be hunting for ‘dinner’.
Sadly, the only heat in his bowl was the slight radioactivity. They had tried to brush off the thick top layer of fallout before tilling to get down to better soil, but more fell every day.
He regarded the cold, sticky slop. This glop was hours old, cooked in the morning, and there was no spare fuel to keep it hot. Today, unfortunately, he had been out on work detail until long after it had gelatinized.
Regardless he wolfed it down, not bothering to sit. In another time, metabolization had come with some accompanying rituals and niceties, but he knew better than to move about the bunker with food in hand. Things were still maintaining a thin semblance of order, but there was no reason to take dumb risks.
As he headed for the door, thinking of finding a secluded corner to slowly rot away in, he heard voices behind him.
“That’s him. ”
He knew that voice - it was the man who took his bunk after his sleep shift was over. They had exchanged niceties a few times, but Bahraman hadn’t bothered to remember his name. He hadn’t bothered to do much of late.
A moment of panic - was his bunkmate passing blame on something? Hidden food? The panic redoubled when he saw the man stepping around his accuser - it was Abbaseh.
He was soup now for sure, Bahraman thought to himself resignedly.
“I heard from Jamshid here that you used to work at Esfandiari-Hameed in the capital?” the dictator in all but name asked him bluntly.
Not the turn of conversation he was expecting.
“. . . Yes. I used to work in the power systems unit. ”
He stared blankly back at Abbaseh, not sure what to say, but very sure that turning and running would not be a suitable response, despite his instinct to do just that.
Abbaseh smiled slightly back at him and asked-
“So, you’ve worked with the standard E-H reactor cans before?”
“Yes… actually, I was a project manager for one of the naval class can designs. ”
Abbaseh’s maw gaped open now, in a predatory expression that bore little resemblance to a smile in Bahraman’s considered opinion.
“And those cans aren’t much different from the Yazdi-Lajevardi model?”
… it was tempting to lie, but any idiot knew that sealed reactor cans for the military had been standardized to be drop-in replaceable.
He automatically stuttered out: “Yeah?”
. . . wait, would a layman really know that? Or was it just him that knew that?
Abbaseh’s grin grew wider, which Bahraman would not have believed possible seconds ago. His stomach sank.
“Congratulations, you get double rations today! And as a bonus prize, you are coming outside with me. We found a Y-L medium reactor can out at a po-dunk air strip nobody bothered to bomb. We think we can shift it over here, assuming it works and we can disconnect it without, you know, boom?”
Smeg.
“Grab your kit. Don’t worry, it’s only about 5 Roentgen if we’re quick. ”
Smeg.
Nov 12:
Alphios of Myndus’s dorsal ridge shivered, his spines flicked, his transceivers stuttered and popped in shock. His aides about the large room added a tight syncopation of dismay to his sending from their workstations.
The report blat from Cronos of Argyroupoli was terse and to the point - disaster. Something had gone wrong during the test firing of the Nuclear Pulse Engine array for the Aphrodite class at the Argos yard.
The exact cause was both unknown and obvious at once - an accident. Kaeptyn under stress, pushing until their digits bled. Untested components, kludged onto components designed so long ago no-one had any practical knowledge of their workings.
Catastrophic drive failure had instantaneously killed 36 dockyard workers and imparted enough thrust onto the second slip to push it free of it’s mooring to the yard. By some caprice of fate, that thrust pushed it directly toward slip one. The collision was relatively slow, as these things go, giving workers precious minutes to evacuate - but the inertia imparted was enormous.
Both hulls were a total loss. Worse, Cronos estimated the yard capacity itself would be out of commission for some months.
Chrono’s relayed waves betrayed not a hint of guilt, only frustration and overtones of anger and loss. Alphio’s spines shook in irritation - the largest industrial disaster in two generations and the overseer feels no guilt? Worse, the smug bastard sent subtle undertones - this had been a known and accepted risk to anyone with half a brain? It was infuriating, but while he hated to admit it, also true. They had all known the risks. They had chosen to bully forward anyway.
The first batch of terraforming equipment and infrastructure had been completed last week, easily enough to fill 6 hulls - and 2 of their 3 planned hulls were no more.
Cronos had of course tendered his resignation - and Alphios was sorely tempted to accept, and be rid of this confounding, hard spined old coot. However, in these mad times, no-one else was more qualified and willing to dare the depths of the void and it’s eerie stillness. To replace him would be to delay. And the commune would brook no delay.
Any means to achieve success of the commune’s goals must be grasped, no matter how irksome to Alphios personally. He and his aides were in concordance on this, and their family units had weighed in the affirmative as well. The general bellwether of the commune was unshifted - stay the course, come what may.
OOC: Actually I kinda had the wrong ship class tooled and building for 10 months before canceling it and retooling, lol. I decided to roll with it instead of SM hacking myself out of the problem, but uh, an industrial accident sounds way cooler :).
-
“Grab your kit. Don’t worry, it’s only about 5 Roentgen if we’re quick. ”
Something about this sort of gallows humor really brings home the world we're reading about here.
OOC: Actually I kinda had the wrong ship class tooled and building for 10 months before canceling it and retooling, lol. I decided to roll with it instead of SM hacking myself out of the problem, but uh, an industrial accident sounds way cooler :).
Player malfeasance is the wellspring of AAR writer creativity, after all. ;)
-
Gaia, Nov 16:
Cronos of Argyroupoli shoved his muzzle deep into the bowl of intoxicant while he felt the news relay wash over his spines - the launch of the Aphrodite 001 (originally planned as 003) from the Assus yard. Subconsciously, he emanated a dreary fugue of disappointment and loss which came back to him, reflected and amplified just as unconsciously by the others sitting in the dining area.
Crono’s own Argo yard was still a good two months away from being operational, perhaps more if he was to implement all of his planned safety measures. Not two months away from completing the two ships assigned to them - two months before they could even start re-laying the frames. And Amythaeon of Trapezus over at Assus yard was affixing the ceremonial bronze figurehead on the first Kapetyn ship to launch in a generation.
What really rankled was that it was just dumb luck that Amythaeon had succeeded while they had failed. In fact, the Assus yard had a worse safety record than Argos, with more fatalities total in the last months to various stupid mistakes.
In the post mortem analysis of the accident, it had been determined that the root cause was a faulty drive component, improperly tested at 1/8th the correct thrust at outgoing quality control. A unit conversion error. The Assus yard would almost certainly have had a similar issue, if the accident hadn't caused a halt in all drive testing while the Argo yard team did failure analysis.
The accident still in everyone's mind, the Aphrodite would be carefully put through her paces, slowly increasing velocity to max and validating all subsystems before loading up with Terraforming equipment and departing for Semichi III.
Shahrewar, Dec 5
Bahraman Afsarzadeh held the bowl in his hands tightly and savored - hot vegetable soup. In retrospect, those seven roentgens were the best he ever spent. Since hauling the reactor can over to the compound, they had adequate power to heat water whenever needed and keep it hot as long as needed. No more skimping to ensure they could keep the air-blowers running, lest they suffocate. The past months had seen a flurry of activity, both in his bunker and across Shahrewar - buildings torn down for materials, other buildings more adequately sealed and insulated, greenhouses thrown down, lighting for indoor grow rooms salvaged from every fixture in sight. Everyone was trying to pull together what they could to survive, and it looked as though some of them might even do it. Some.
Fortunately, the denizens of Bunker III were some of the best off on the planet. Unfortunately, their neighbors knew this. In the last weeks, they had lost more members to violence than radiation or starvation.
Bahraman tried to put aside such thoughts and enjoy the soup. It really was quite good. Then all hell broke loose.
Given recent history, it is somewhat understandable that the sound of atmospheric re-entry was not a welcome one to the average Perugian. Before the sound had even consciously registered, Bahraman was half under the table, as were the other members of his work detail - at least, the ones who did not bounce off each other and find themselves sprawled on the floor stunned.
Really? Someone was still launching this late, and decided that this worthless woebegone burb was a suitable target? It seemed such a banal way to die after all they had survived.
The cacophonous crescendo reached a peak, and just when Bahraman had made his peace with his ancestors, begin to recede. It seemed they were not at ground zero after all.
Strange. Why would a missile come in at such an oblique angle? They should be dead by now. Or at least have felt an impact. Bahraman was just starting to work his way out from under the table when he heard a familiar voice.
"Suit up, let's go see what that was! Double rations for double shifts!"
Smeg. Why had he been on Abbaseh's work detail today of all days?
Bahraman glanced down, just now noticing the burns on his chest from his soup. Does it even count as a double ration if you didn't get to eat the first one?
Semichi PIII, Site One, Dec 5
Teacher Iatragoras of Heraclea had spent the last two days reviewing the (admittedly rudimentary) sensor data provided by the Aphrodite's suite in the converted cargo container-cum first contact team HQ in the Aphrodite's hold to identify a viable landing site. The mission goal was firstly to provide relief - actually making contact or establishing diplomacy was a far second. Iatragoras sort of understood the reasoning, but as the man on the spot, he was still not particularly happy.
As their cargo shuttle finished it's descent, he was beginning to feel the oppressive gravity of the Neighbor's planet. He was very glad for the sealed, powered exoskeletons his team of 8 had been provided. Without them, he doubted they would even have been able to move on the surface - perhaps not even breath. A Kapetyns legs would likely snap if they tried to support their body under this crushing assault.
It was hard to sense the weft in this clunky, insulating suit. Between and about his team, a subtle keen of discomfort and anxiety had already been rebounding, the subtle muffling of the suits amplifying the sense of awkwardness. When the door down fully and they stepped forth onto the surface of this world for the first time, the keen shifted to one of disbelief, doubt, and horror.
Surely, there must be some mistake. This site had been identified as one of the areas of highest activity by the Neighbors, ground vehicles and even an aircraft had been detected. This should be one of the least impacted areas of the planet.
Iatragoras and his team swept their spines to and fro. To all sides the same image was reflected - devastation, and a terrible stillness.
Behind him came the thrum of the other cargo shuttles descending, automated drops of terraforming equipment already proceeding behind them at Site I to schedule. It was a little late to signal to abort.
Glumly, his team shuffled on metallic legs through the dusty and snow towards the nearest building. If there were no neighbors around, at least they could inspect the ruins in the three days they had on site before the Aphrodite was scheduled to return to Gaia.
Dec 7, Gaia:
Alphios of Myndus’s problems had multiplied. The first cargo ship had completed before the diplomatic vessel. With no way to stay on station in the hellish atmosphere and spine bending gravity of Semichi, his first contact team had been limited to mere hours on site. First contact consisted of gesticulating to the one neighbor brave or stunned enough to stand in the open on their approach, who had then immediately hid.
The conditions on Semichi III were not conducive to a permanent Kapetyn presence to operate the terraforming equipment. A short stay of a few days was possible, so long as one never left a powered exosuit - but a longer stay would almost certainly result in broken bones and collapsed lungs under the immense gravity. Current plans called for somehow training the locals to operate the machinery to scrub radiation from the soil and pull dust from the atmosphere.
Attempts had been made to make the equipment as idiot proof as possible and provide very simple operation instructions in the form of charged bronze cubes with flux maps as well as some tensile contact sculptures, but it was unclear if they could be understood by the locals. So far as the Kapetyn scientists had been able to determine, not only did the Perugia perceive a different section of the EM spectrum, they also communicated primarily through some other means not yet deciphered.
Many of their transmissions were modulated over a very small range, rather than the broad spectrum of the weft, and seemed to be encoding some other type of sensory data which Kapetyn haven't quite been able to decipher, beyond simply relaying it back - which had been attempted as a contact method for the last century to no avail. A real understanding of what this data was encoding would require observation of these creatures directly to try to understand how exactly they were perceiving the universe.
The detonation of thermonuclear devices by these creatures had solidified the opinions of some Kapetyn that these creatures were inscrutable, insane, and possibly not truly sentient at all. These individuals, thankfully, were a small minority, while other more sane voices pushed back against this de-kapetynizing of their neighbors in their hour of need. Still, it was unclear if his diplomatic team would be able to make any real progress with contacting such disturbingly odd creatures while operating out of a cargo hold.
Shahrewar, Dec 20:
Bahraman Afsarzadeh was staring at the microwave spectrometry results in puzzlement in what they were tentatively calling the ‘control room’ when he heard the sonic boom of an inbound decent. His team dove for cover under various workstations and arrays until the noise stopped. They had doffed their NBC gear upon discovering that this room was sealed and had a notably lower background radiation level than Bunker III inside, but now they found themselves hastily suiting back up to go back outside.
Abbaseh had directed the team to bounce ASAP if their mysterious visitors returned, but after two weeks of silence, his team had gotten a bit lax. It was just so much easier to work without the suits - and the control room was actually nice and warm, which made the suits just that much less bearable.
He hoped this laxness hadn't just gotten them killed as he pulled on his helmet and strode into the airlock. He flipped the mechanical toggle which they had discovered to be the airlock cycle mechanism, briefly wondering again at it's lack of any color or markings beyond a high polish.
The doors would open to three metal monstrosities teetering on six impossibly long legs and sheathed in a seething mass of quills. Cybernetic insectoid hedgehogs on stilts, twice the height and likely five times the mass of a Perugian, stood a mere dozen span in front of them. As he watched, the swore he could see the quills rustle towards him, but they made no move to advance. On such long legs, he had no double they could close the distance in an instant.
Bahraman Afsarzadeh briefly considered that he was not being paid enough for this. But then, nobody in Bunker III was receiving anything for their labors at the moment - except roentgens.
-
OOC Year 1 Round up - the more AARish part
Perugian Status:
Population : 10023m -> 8684m
Unrest 52.38% - breakdown of civilization, martial law or no law across most of the planet
Infra: 7500 (supported 192m) -> 22486 (supports 576m) - mostly from civilian production, some from government production
Terraformers - .8 arrived, no TN tech, not yet utilized
Still .2 ATM of fridge, temp is -1.233 vs 34.61 ideal
When I came up with this scenario idea, I was unsure if civilian production would make any infra for the capital planet. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it did. I like this, I feel like it represents the Perugian citizens desperately scrapping and salvaging, digging bunkers and throwing down greenhouses, etc.
One thing I totally forgot was that a lack of infra leads to unrest. The Perugian start with 0 military units to suppress unrest, since the military all got nuked. This puts them on a faster timer before total collapse into worthlessness and death spiral than I expected, but I think it makes sense given the scenario.
I decided not to start TN research with the Perugian until after the first drop of TN goods on the surface in December. Poor Bahraman the power specialist has been assigned this task which is well outside his specialty, for lack of a better surviving candidate, hence his grubbing around in the terraforming equipment. Wish him luck, he better hurry before unrest reaches max and stability reaches 0 :O.
Kapetyn Status:
Produced:
1 Carrack (2 cargo spaces)
Aphrodite class Carrack 79 066 tons 238 Crew 883. 1 BP TCS 1 581 TH 2 080 EM 0
1315 km/s Armour 1-164 Shields 0-0 HTK 99 Sensors 0/0/0/0 DCR 1 PPV 0
MSP 6 Max Repair 50 MSP
Cargo 50 000 Cargo Shuttle Multiplier 2
Seeker Control Rating 1 BRG
Intended Deployment Time: 24 months
Commercial Improved Nuclear Pulse Engine EP160. 0 (13) Power 2080 Fuel Use 5. 06% Signature 160 Explosion 4%
Fuel Capacity 750 000 Litres Range 33. 7 billion km (296 days at full power)
This design is classed as a Commercial Vessel for maintenance purposes
3 others planned, although Argos Yard is still retooling before it can start work on their two.
12 terraforming installations (. 8 delivered)
3946 infrastructure (0 delivered)
Going into this, I knew lift capacity was going to be an issue, but starting off with 0 ships and just watching billions of Perugians die without being able to do anything for most of a year was a bit painful both for the Kapetyn and for me as a player :).
I am not 100% sure this year end summary really fits in with the story narrative - I'm a bit worried it will pull people out of the 'story' and back to the 'game' if that makes sense? Maybe I should leave this out or put it in a different post, let me know what you think.
-
Ultimately, my advice is not to worry what will pull people in or out, and focus on writing what you enjoy. First and foremost the best kind of AAR is an active and updated one! Beyond that, as long as a writer enjoys their work and puts good effort into the art of it the results are usually satisfactory for all involved.
At this rate it looks like Perugia would stabilize at around 2 billion population, likely more if they get enough help from the terraformers. The high unrest is likely to make for an interesting challenge, but how the Perugians respond will be interesting as there's an option to build a lot of military units to control the population but perhaps this will lead to military government? Not to mention the Kapetyns may decide to take an active hand in the matter...
-
Iatragoras of Heraclea's personal journal - Entry date Jan 31:
It's quite frustrating. It's very obvious that our neighbors on Semichi III are intelligent - but yet communication in any depth continues to prove illusive. On a superficial level, some concepts are quite simple to convey - anything which you could relay to your pet skýlos back on Gaia, the neighbors will pick up immediately. Something that can be conveyed by gesture? Certainly, you can get that across. In fact, we are starting to develop a whole new gesture language piece by piece. Frustratingly, the gesture language is gaining nuance faster than his understanding of the neighbor's actual language.
It's apparent that the neighbors convey information through induced air pressure waves. Inconveniently, Kaeptyn can only sense this via tactile contact with the neighbor in question, the floor, or perhaps a taunt membrane. The constant high wind velocities on Kaeptyn make such a sensory input less valuable, and it was not selected for among the Kaeptyn's distant ancestors.
If it was just a question of a different medium, perhaps that would be solvable, but there is also a difference in the resolution of the medium. Even the most simple Kaeptyn sensory blat of alarm or surprise encodes a surprising amount of data - direction of threat, size of threat, identity of threatened individual, vital statistics, etc. This data is encoded by multiple spines at multiple frequencies, and sometimes sculpted individually for relay to specific coordinates, if the Kaeptyn is aware of the location of others nearby it wants to ensure receive the blat.
By contrast, the neighbor's language is... flat. So much so, that understanding the meaning of a specific waveform may require additional contextual information which we have not yet been able to parse out. I have definitely confirmed that the same (so far as I can tell) waveform can signify more than one thing! I am certain of this - Gestures Wildly was quite emphatic on this point. It seems that the waveform for food and eating is identical in the neighbor language. How to decipher which is which? There must be context clues - either from the other words (which we do not yet know) or from other subtle expressions of body language - or even odor, who knows? I suppose I could take off my suit and take a deep whiff of the oxygen atmosphere to confirm how the neighbors smell for posterity, but it would be my final act.
Feb 14- Shahrewar
Abbaseh Zirakzadeh found himself in the creche, watching the juveniles play. This was the one place in the bunker which seemed to still echo with the feeling of days long gone, which felt removed somehow from the holocaust about ground. The kids still received full rations, from the nutritionally balanced pre-disaster supplies. In fact, the bunker still had more than a quarter of it's original supplies, although they all tried to forget this as hard as possible, lest they become envious. It was Abbaseh who had determined the adults must cut back on rations and scavenge outside for added food, long before they ran out. He had doomed many Perugian's to gruesome fates of rad sickness, starvation and cannibalism so that the children might live out a few more months without hardship.
He wished he could say the decision was made for the children's sake, out of kindness. But it was not. Abbaseh had become a very hard Perugi in the last year, and his reasoning was as hard as granite and sharp as flint.
The basic social unit of the Perugi was the extended family - the pack which raises children communally. The clan is just an extension of this - a larger unit which forms large creches, and exchanges children between them. In ancient times, when hardship or hunger would threaten a Perugi pack, Perugian adults would look out for their own children first and foremost. Children would end up dead - killed by other children in struggles for food, or killed by adults who were more distant relatives to reduce competition for their own offspring and closer relatives.
When this became too prevalent, adults would pull their children from the communal creche and seek to survive elsewhere, on their own or in smaller units of those they trusted most. When the creche broke up, it meant the death of the clan. The death of the pack. All social bonds severed. It was every Perugi for themselves, and no holds barred. It was to prevent this, to keep the Perugi of Bunker III as a single social unit, capable of collective action, that he ensured the children were fed. If he thought it would keep the community together, to decrease competition he would have the children decimated. He still may have to, one day.
These days, he only came here when he was already in a good mood - it was too easy to think dark thoughts like this down here.
Fortunately, today he had received very good news indeed. The leaders of two local survivors groups, their main competitors, had agreed to his proposal. Together, the three groups would protect the vast wealth of alien goods deposited in their midst the previous fortnight. They would try to ensure that the goods did not merely cause bloodshed, and that the goods were not spread so thin as to be useless. It was they who would dictate how the goods were allocated, and who would determine how many and which outsiders they might let in once word spread.
As the leader of the largest of the three communities, the others had vowed to follow him as his right and left hand.
It would seem that oaths of fealty were too deeply engraved in the Perugian psyche to die simply because the noble class was no more. With those two oaths had begun a cascade of others. Abbaseh was now a Clan Leader in fact as well as in practice.
Not too bad for a madman, Abbaseh thought to himself quietly as he watched the children play.
March 15 - Aphrodite 001, geosync orbit of Semichi III,
Polyas of Olbia reviewed the feeds from the remote sensors left in place at the site of their latest drop site. This was their seventh drop since the relief effort started, and things were starting to become routine. A horrifying routine, he thought to himself as he glanced at the feed, but a routine.
The waves relayed to him were replicating a struggle going on below him on the planets surface - a mad rush for the individually packaged water. This was the second drop at this location, and the locals knew which crates to look for this time. A few less desperate and more enterprising individuals were loading up the larger barrels of water into a ground vehicle of some sort, while facing outwards towards the crowd with what was apparent - from the corpses at their feet - to be an array of lethal weapons.
It pained him to watch the vastly unequal distribution of the tiny drop of aide they were able to drop into this sea of need. But at least, this time they had delivered that drop. The first three trips had simply delivered terraforming equipment - with no hands to operate them. A stupid boondoggle. The rosy assessment that the locals could be trained to operate it was still being bandied about in some circles back on Gaia, but anyone who had seen this world knew better. Even if they could train the locals - they were too desperate. No-one would sit around and run a terraforming station while their children starved.
He was somewhat heartened by the reports from the contact team, who had elected to return to Site One rather than checking this newer site. It would seem that the supplies dropped there on the fourth trip were being put to use, and in fact had almost all disappeared over the last month. New structures could be seen in their report, hastily thrown down. It was also somewhat humbling when he re-focused his spines on the feed output - most of the structures were of local make, or at least, majorly local materials. Sure, our duricrete had been useful for poured foundations and some of our pre-fab airlock modules were tacked on here and there, but the sheer muscle power and determination of the locals was far outstripping the best efforts of the Aphrodite and her strained crew of 200 odd to render aid.
-
April 6, Gaia:
Alphios of Myndus reviewed the plan proposal before him again. On a second pass, it still seemed slipshod. Then again, many of the hasty measures in the last year were.
A design had been submitted for an orbital terraforming habitat, which would enable Kapetyns to rest in relative comfort between short shifts on the surface of the Neighbor's world with it's crushing gravity. In theory, the design itself was quite sound, and would address the current pressing need to commence terraforming ASAP. It was now clear to all involved that the current aid mission was just too slow to make a meaningful dent in the death toll on Semichi III. Polyas had circulated the feed data from the surface after his most recent circuit (much to Alphios' chagrin) and now many Kapetyn were pushing for a more drastic direct action. He was going to have to approve construction of this habitat, there was too much pressure resonating through the commune to allow him to stay the course with only their current aid drops.
There was an obvious, glaring flaw with this plan, however. This habitat would be built in situ in orbit of Gaia, with parts launched from the surface construction factories. No shipyard was large enough to house it.
And it didn't have engines.
Currently, the Kapetyn did not have any practicable solution to mount engines on this monstrosity without shaking itself apart from internal stresses. Many pointed to Kephalon of Antiochia's recent papers, reviewing older papers, which hinted at a theoretical 'traction' system which would allow a tug vessel to apply thrust evenly to the full habitat at one time, eliminating the risk of buckling. However, the older papers didn't report anyone actually building a 'tractor beam' -not even a downscaled proof of concept. They were heavy on math and light on engineering, as was the way with most research papers. Still, Kephalon trumpeted that it could be done to all that could receive, and the signal reverberated far and wide in the Commune. He would have his funding to try.
In approximately two months, at best estimate, a new orbital habitat would orbit Gaia. And there it would remain, until Kephalon of Antiochia could come up with his 'tractor beam', and figure out how to fit it onto a hull. Any, presumably someone would have to design this 'tug' class vessel and tool up and build it.
This plan was not firing on all 88 spines, but nobody had presented him a better one. With a blat of frustration which reverberated and amplified off of the other Kapetyn in the office, he slammed down his approval on the proposal plate.
May 14th, Shahrewar, Indar Final Redoubt
A great bounty of much needed supplies had fallen from the skies onto the radiated outskirts of Indar, former capital city of the Clan of the same name. Over the past few days, this unexpected bounty had been squandered by the survivors on the surface, too fractured to make productive use of the resources, instead destroying both the resources and each other in an orgy of misguided survival instincts. It was only recently that Indar patrols had stumbled across the burning wreckage and pumped some survivors for more details.
Kambiz Pakdaman had been caught off guard by this unexpected activity on the surface, too focused on consolidating his power below, cleaning up the last vocal dissenters against his recent rise to power, but he would not be caught with his guard down again.
Kambiz had made it clear to Farshad, his right hand man, the brutal facilitator of his recent rise - if the others returned, the goods were to be secured for Indar at all costs. Secure the landing site. Secure the goods. If possible, capture one of these 'others' so that there clan affiliation may be determined and the source of this bounty ascertained.
July 23, High Orbit above Gaia, Antioch Yard
The launch of the Hector fuel harvester, first of it's class, was met with little fanfare. It was only notable as another of the many recent failures of planning. The Hector class fuel harvester cum-tanker was certainly useful, but not needful. Current fuel refining facilities on the surface were more than adequate to meet the needs of the sole Carrack operated by the cargo fleet. Another Carrack hull was to be laid down in the Antioch Yard as soon as the Hector cleared the birth - this was the only real sign of progress towards the overall goals of the Commune held in this news.
Most awaited with limited patience the upcoming launch of the Asmara from Phocaea Yard, scheduled next month. The Asmara was the first of her class, a cargo ship just slightly smaller and slower than the Aphrodite- a compromise solution designed to fit the limitations of the existing yards and get more lift capacity into vacuum as soon as possible.
Agitation and outright dissent bubbled across the commune - a rare wave indeed in the typically stagnant and contented Kapetyn. Such mishaps could not continue to happen when millions were dying every day. Someone must be held accountable.
August 30, Shahrewar, Outside Bunker III
Bahraman Afsarzadeh had managed to procure a small telescope - a high end ‘prosumer’ model found in the shed of a farmhouse, apparently a hobbyist. With that and some finagling of the airfield radar array to look more ‘up’ and run a narrower sweep, he had been able to ascertain that the periodic deliveries of water, pre-fab structures, basic goods (lamps, blowers, generators of unknown nature) were all coming from a single LARGE craft holding in perfect geo-stationary orbit - at what appeared to be too low an elevation above the surface for such an orbit.
Further, he had been able to make a rough estimate of it’s speed (FAST, in excess of 1000km/s), acceleration (instantaneous!) and rough direction of travel (towards planet IV), and with some back calculations had inferred the craft was running a circuit from planet IV. He had even been able to predict it’s arrival with some accuracy of late.
The craft was still outbound, and this was his first night off from the work crews at the landing site this fortnight.
Despite this fact, the sound of aerobraking and the roar of rockets decelerating had a secondary effect of accelerating his rear chitin plate out of his bunk and onto the floor, as his bunk mate Jamshid shook him awake with little ceremony.
"Abbaseh wants you."
A few hours later, shivering in the cold and pointing his telescope up through the cloudy, ash filled sky, he would finally get his first glimpse of the vessel in orbit. This ship was not quite right. It seemed a bit smaller. And, it departed a little sooner as well, leaving less goods on the dusty plane.
Furthermore, the usual stilt-porcupines were nowhere to be seen. These shuttles simply dumped goods via parachute and departed immediately, never touching down at all. Something had changed.
Of course, Abbaseh would be expecting an explanation for this change in his report, not just the clear fact that there was a change. Luckily, Bahraman had gotten good at idle postulation and making statements which were easy to walk back of late.
OOC: I've slowed down the pace of updates a little as I have hit year ~20 or so and realized the pace of gameplay and story worthy content may also slow a bit, and I don't want to catch up too fast. Also I'm lazy. :)
-
I'm still enjoying these updates. The little details are really making the two races feel alive and consistent. Not a lot more to say until the next big plot twist...quick, someone, umm, nudge one of those new spaceship hulls off the docking clamps! :P
OOC: I've slowed down the pace of updates a little as I have hit year ~20 or so and realized the pace of gameplay and story worthy content may also slow a bit, and I don't want to catch up too fast.
A perfectly good reason, a slower pace means more time to work on the craft of writing. Certainly this forum is not one where a slow pace is unusual.
Also I'm lazy. :)
An even better reason. ;)
-
September 14, Shahrewar, 09:34 local time
Farshad lay prone in the flattened rubble of what in a previous age had been called Indar. The seal of his envirosuit was slightly askew, fogging his vision. Fortunately, his objective was close enough that he did not need to see particularly well to gauge his timing. Unfortunately, it was also so close that he did not want to move to clear the seal, lest he give away his position.
Around him, laying in other piles of rubble and pressed up against ruined fragments of former walls which still held more verticality than most, were the other five members of his hand picked squad. Ahead of him, it’s bulk still slightly settling into the rubble as wisps of steam rose from its recently superheated surface, lay his objective.
He surveyed the scene again, once again impressed by the scale of the thing. The largest Indar asset to reach orbit of Shahrewar had been perhaps the size of a small personal vehicle - small satellites, primarily for surveilling the activities of other clans. The massive vessel before him had already disgorged two massive lorries while he watched, and he suspected that those were just the stragglers.
So far, everything about the vessel was lining up with the accounts from their scouting team. Now, everything hinged on two observed behaviors of these mysterious vehicles, and their interplay.
Firstly, it had been observed that the doors of the lift vessel would open when a cargo lorry approached, just wide enough to allow it’s entry.
Secondly, it had been verified that the lumbering lorry would stop when a large object (or being) interposed itself in its path.
What was unknown was if the vessel doors would shut if unauthorized motion was detected. Or if the lorry would still slow in such a case. His team was about to find out.
And with any luck (and copious shaped charges) they would find out whatever was piloting this craft as well. He was not confident he had enough charges to breach the exterior airlock, but any interior doors should be a cinch. They would then detain whatever beings were inside for interrogation and secure the craft for more detailed inspection and disassembly.
September 14, Shahrewar Troposphere, 09:54 local time
There were no interior doors. The whole craft appeared to be automated, just like the lorries.
And indeed, the blasting charges were inadequate to re-open the airlock doors.
The shaking began to stop as the craft exited the troposphere. The first Perugians to orbit Shahrewar glanced at each other nervously and double checked their stocks of canned air for their (unpressurized) enviro-suits.
September 14, Cargo Hold of the Aphrodite, in transit from Gaia to PIII
Iatragoras reviewed his message blat once more before flicking his spines and squirting the relay command at the controller.
It was unfortunate that the minute or so light speed delay prevented a real time communication with Automedon of Zancle, Captain of the Asmara. He was clearly shaken up by the events of the last days, and Iatragoras regretted not being able to console him in person.
It was understandable that he was shaken, given the unexpected situation. Stowaways! And, worse, stowaways which could not breath methane! It was fortunate that there had only been one casualty.
As much as Iatragoras would have liked to try to speak with the neighbors daring enough (or mad enough) to sneak onto the Asmara via cargo shuttle, he agreed with Automedon’s decision to send them back down via shuttle as soon as they could be corralled back aboard, along with their fallen comrade. To extend their abduction may have exacerbated the incident.
Nobody had expected Neighbors to burst forth from the shuttle upon its arrival, certainly not the maintenance tech standing in the bay to check the odd fault messages being thrown by the shuttles airlock and it’s lorries. Thankfully, the tech had kept his head - and that gesticulation seemed somewhat universal. When the neighbors surrounded him and gestured for him to move, he had moved. He had led them into the airlock they had directed him to.
Then he had sealed it and called for orders from Automedon.
Automedon had elected to simply close the blast doors leading to the lock, disconnect the airlock module, and pack the whole lock into another shuttle for return to the surface, maintenance tech, neighbors and all. Then a volunteer crew had suited up in the available powered exosuits (typically used for heavy lifting), entered the shuttle, opened the lock, and escorted the tech out. A focused microwave blast from the crew’s elected peace officer had discouraged any further scuffle from the somewhat terrified neighbors, who had seemed a bit more concerned with the seals on their environmental suits than any further kidnapping attempts - a small glimmer of sanity in an otherwise crazy incident.
It was only after the tech was secured and the first shuttle was swept that they found the corpse.
October 25, Shahrewar, Bunker 3:
Abbaseh sat alone in the dimly lit room, his back to the door. He knelt and ran his fingers through the urn in front of him, feeling the roughness of the fragments of chiten inside and listening to their crinkle.
The tiny fragments under his fingers were the final memorial of Abbaseh’s ancestors - a tiny fragment from each of his forefathers, the oldest ones ground to dust and settled to the bottom by generations of stirring.
Abbaseh’s father had told him, on the day he exited the creche, that within this urn was a scale from Jaleh Spuzgar himself, founder of the clan. But then, every member of the clan would claim thus, but only a few dozens of his scales would have been collected, by his direct sons, and placed in each of their urns with the evenly divided portion of Jaleh’s own urn. Abbaseh’s father had been a braggart - odds are not even a speck of dust from Spuzgar lay in this urn - his genealogy was certainly not so great as to have been traced back so far.
Abbaseh’s thoughts drifted to the generations before them and the struggles they must have overcome, and weighed them against his own. Perhaps some few of them had faced such trials, but he found himself doubtful. Why seek aid from ancestors who had never had to face such a time? Still, the ritual itself was calming.
From behind him, Jaleh asked “Something on your mind?”
Some Perugians claimed that during their commune with their ancestors, they would converse with them, being granted advice for the future, lessons from the past, or even blessings and mana. Abbaseh firmly believed that such claims were made entirely by two types of Perugian - charlatans and madmen.
Of the two types, unfortunately he was the latter, Abbaseh thought to himself.
“Still angry at me for telling you to volunteer for that first survey patrol I take it? We both know that if you hadn’t volunteered for that patrol, you would have volunteered for the soup pot soon enough.”
Abbaseh turned to face Jaleh, looking him in the eyes, unable to ignore his goads any longer “Would that have been any worse?”
“Oh please, enough with the fatalism. It’s ever so dreary. What are you planning to do about the news from Bahraman and his pet hedgehog?”
“Oh please yourself, we both know it is Bahraman who is the pet, and the hedgehog who is the master.”
“Aha, so you are thinking about it!”
“Of course. And the implications. If Bahraman’s interpretation of their silly wiggle dance is correct, the hedgehog’s aid drop protocols have changed due to some incident elsewhere on Shahrewar. Just “some incident”! He doesn't even know what happened!”
Abbaseh stood and paced back and forth across the room perpendicular to Jaleh, glancing at him occasionally and seeing his infuriating smirk.
“Our very lives depend on aid from the hedgehogs arriving like clockwork, each time those great ships make a circuit. Some idiotic Xeshm or Sawar clansman taking a potshot at a hedgehog could jeaporize the lives of every Perugian on the planet! Sure, the hedgehogs treat us as pets now, but if we bite the hand that feeds...” Abbaseh’s outburst slowly faded as he followed that thought to its logical conclusion, his eyes unfocused, facing the closed door in front of him.
“And what can you do about that?” Jaleh asked with an eyeridge quirk.
“Nothing!” Abbaseh yelled, his voice reverberating in the empty room.
“Nothing… yet.” Abbaseh muttered to himself. His expression subtly shifted, a hardness coming to his features, as his eyes came back into focus.
“Now you are thinking, oh Great leader of the Spuzgar'' said the greatest Clanleader in the history of Spuzgar, his voice dripping with sarcasm as a grin split his maw in an uncomfortably predatory expression. An expression which seemed familiar to Abbaseh.
Ahh, yes. He had seen it in the mirror occasionally of late.
Nov 18, Deep Space:
A strangeness in the warp, the medium through which the weft is conducted, is detected just beyond the orbit of Semichi VII - what Kapetyn scientists theorize could be a gap in the warp itself, and if some further energy was input, perhaps a bridge to... elsewhere. As a pure science project, this was potentially world changing. In any other time, this would be incredible news and make headlines across Gaia, but in the context of the current catastrophic death toll on the third planet, it hardly made the news.
OOC: I actually had my geo and grav survey orders flipped this whole time :|
-
Nice little story about the stowaways, their antics gave me a little chuckle and it's always nice to mix a bit of lighter humor into such a bleak setting.
I do wonder what effect this has in-game, are supply shipments slowed or otherwise hampered or is this purely fluff for now?
Thus far the story has been mostly about the Kapetyn saving the Perugi, however as the story is titled "Symbiosis" I wonder what the Kapetyn get out of this besides warm feelings of moral superiority? Do they need the Perugi for reasons yet to become clear?
-
Thus far the story has been mostly about the Kapetyn saving the Perugi, however as the story is titled "Symbiosis" I wonder what the Kapetyn get out of this besides warm feelings of moral superiority? Do they need the Perugi for reasons yet to become clear?
Well, one thing they have gotten already is a break out of the stable but stagnant state of their society, which had been stuck at early TN tech on a single world for a very, very long time. It's unclear if this is actually a benefit tho.
As for other benefits, well, without saying too much you may need to wait for the second plot arc 😆.
-
As for other benefits, well, without saying too much you may need to wait for the second plot arc 😆.
Consider me teased!
-
Consider us all very teased. 8)
In fact, consider me hooked.
-
November 24, Gaia High Orbit:
Cronos was not much of one for ceremony, so the formal launching of the Aphrodite 3 from Agros Yard consisted of a short sending - almost a simple blat - honoring the dockyard workers, both present and lost in the accident a year prior. Then, with a few swings of the ceremonial mallet held in his forelimbs, he struck the bronze prow into place, where it was quickly laser welded. And that was that.
Still, to the viewers receiving the sending on Gaia below, this was more than enough cause for elation.
For Cronos, most of his elation stemmed from the fact that, at least, they had managed to push one of their two charges off the slips before the Assus Yard launched their second vessel, to considerably more fanfare, later in the week. Amythaeon always had been one to showboat, and letting him get two hulls ahead would have been infuriating.
November 30, High Orbit of Planet III
Polyas of Olbia, captain of the Aphrodite and leader of the first cargo task group, again noted in his log that more and more time is being spent using cargo shuttles to unload goods on Semichi III than actually in transit as the two planets aproach conjunction, especially after the doctrine changes to emphasis airdrop and limited surface touch downs to avoid touchy situations with the neighbors.
Spaceport facilities on Gaia support a relatively fast load process, and have already been scheduled for expansion, but Semichi III is another issue. There are no native cargo shuttle services or spaceports, and the single shuttle bay of the Aphrodite class is proving to be the gating factor on entire aid lift operation, rather than the actual speed of his craft.
The chain of command notes that there is nothing to be done about this at this time, as without orbital facilities about Semichi III to house workers, no spaceport or cargo shuttle facility there could be supported.
Polyas protests in following missives that he didn’t ask if a spaceport could be supported - he just needs more, faster shuttles for his craft, but his complaints wash over overworked and overstressed spines and are dismissed as simple grumbling, lost in the chaff and jamming of all of the other stressed and grumbling Kapetyn during this trying time.
OOC: Polyas here has realized a fundamental issue with my cargo designs but I haven’t yet :S.
December 1-4, Semichi System, Interplanetary Space:
Aphrodite 003 & 004 meet with 002 and 001 in orbit of Semichi III and begin unloading added infrastructure before merging fleets. This represents one of the longest continuous Kapetyn presences on Semichi III to date.
Teacher Iatragoras of Heraclea is excited that this extended fleet merger gives him a few extra days on the surface, despite the terrible toll the gravity takes on him even in his powered exosuit. Not only is the pressure crushing, he feels shorn from the warp by the insulative effects of the metal shell. The pitiful relay from the suit sensor on his drooping dorsal spines leaves him half blind, but oh - the fuzzy contrast is still a wonder.
Despite the fact that the neighbors all wear some manner of suits themselves to strain the poisoned air, Iatragoras has become able to identify several of them by their weave and pulse - their mannerisms and presentations, as well as their varied sizes.
One individual in particular has not only been able to isolate and reproduce via means of an electronic gadget a passible imitation of the Weave of Affirmation and the Wave of Negation, but also managed to partially replicate the emphatic gesture through the waving of his fore-limbs as though they were spine bundles.
He does not envy the individual he has come to refer to as ‘Gestures Wildly’ the task of deciphering Kapetyn warp song with only instrumentation and gesture.
There is a reason that old Kapetyn gather their loved ones and walk to their gravesite when their warpsense begins to crack and sputter. No viable prosthetic warp-sense exists on Gaia, and not for lack of research or funding. For an alien without even a concept of the warp, well… he didn’t fancy his prospects.
At least the pidgin gesture language was continuing to gain nuance, and both parties now had a fairly good understanding of the various non-verbal and unconscious movements of the other.
Also, Gestures Wildly had been able to create a sort of vodor, which allowed for some simple and fairly well understood phrases in the neighbor tongue to be replicated via the means of a vibrating membrane. This device had been quickly snatched away by Iatragoras for inspection and replication for use by Kapetyn landing parties - assuming such were to be allowed again at some point in the future.
In retrospect, Gestures Wildly’s body posturing after Iatragoras snatched the device had been a little out of normal. Odd.
Dec 4, Surface of Shahrewar, Kapetyn Terraforming Facilities near Bunker III:
When he exited technical school with an emphasis on power systems and reactor containment, Bahraman Afsarzadeh had not imagined that a decade later he would find himself huddling in an alien facility, perched on the ruins of a destroyed city, contemplating how to explain to a looming alien that outmassed him by three times and wore an exosuit forged from an alloy which would turn aside an anti-material round the concepts of ‘personal space’ and ‘personal property’.
The fact that he had to attempt to convey this through what was essentially a game of charades added an extra layer of the absurd and surreal to the whole affair.
Still, while he was massively unqualified for his new role of interstellar ambassador (and lead researcher on all alien alloys, tech, etc. etc.), it was certainly an effective distraction from the other aspects of his life which were not as he had imagined a decade ago. The main downside was his boss.
On balance, we found the massive being looming over him and waving the vodor he had created in front of it’s vast array of spines less frightening than Abbaseh. At least he could sort of tell what the Hedgehog was thinking.
Dec 29, Semichi System, Interplanetary Space:
After much waiting, the Patroclus diplomatic vessel is launched, and immediately transits to Semichi III to meet with the Aprodite in orbit, where the diplomatic crew lead by Teacher Iatragoras of Heraclea transfers his command over from their cramped makeshift quarters on the cargo deck of the Aprodite. Perhaps now with a permanent orbital home above Semichi III they can make faster progress in understanding the Neighbor's pressure-wave based communications.
-
Year 2 Round Up:
Perugian Status
Population : 8684m -> 7565m
Death tolls continue to mount.
Infra: 22486 (supports 576m) ->28657 (supports 735m).
The initial burst of infrastructure production by civilians across the planet in YR1 has slowed precipitously as readily available scrap and salvage dry up -the majority of Perugians are still left without adequate food or shelter and are only becoming more desperate.
Almost all remaining buildings and materials which could be salvaged or converted to survival shelters have been. Billions are still struggling in inadequately sealed and insulated buildings, or simply starving trying to eek out a harvest in the very short growing season.
Infrastructure drops have accelerated in the last months of the year, now spreading beyond just Spruzgar, and some other lucky clans are starting to see some hope as prefab shelter for millions will fall from the sky in a matter of days. Spuruzgar remains the central hub for aid, the one region of the planet where cannibalism is now rare.
A total of 1152 infra was delivered by the Kapetyn this year - sufficient to house 29 million. In the same time period, more than a billion souls are estimated to have perished. This is not a sustainable model - terraforming must commence immediately if there is to be any hope of saving the majority of the Neighbors.
To that end, 1.2 terraformers have been delivered, but no Kapetyns are present to operate them and the Perugia have not puzzled out the TN tech necessary to operate them either. Bahraman Afsarzadeh briefly managed to power on the Terraformers after much gesticulation back and forth with Iatragoras, however a scrubber failed within three days and he was unable to decipher the debug messages relayed at microwave frequencies. While the Perugians are vaguely aware of the intent of the facility, they have no way to support the trained manpower required to maintain and operate it.
Stability 52.38% -> 6.58%
OOC: The unanticipated (by me) stability hit to the Perugia due to inadequate infrastructure has basically taken them out of the game at this point, unable to build ground forces to better police the planet without years of build time, and unable to research TN tech. They did start training some militia units, but none of them actually finished before unrest maxed out - I started too late and the units I queued were too large to complete. This is going to end up putting a bigger tech and progress differential between the two races than I had expected when conceptualizing this playthrough. Oops.
Kapetyn Status:
Produced:
3x geosurveryors, 3x grav surveorys
3x Caracks
2x Cargo Ships
3x Orbital Platforms (sans tugs) - this lack of tugs is starting to become a boondoggle.
Started retool for a tug platform and an orbital terraformer, started construction on a terraformer habitat.
Increased construction factory and mining count, started laying down a new naval yard as well as adding Carrack and Cargo slipways.
Wealth is starting to be a little strained by the current maintenance and orbital building demands. Maintenance stocks are very high, as are fuel, so temporarily putting a halt to their production/refining.
Stockpiles OK for now - most minerals (save duranium) are in sufficient stock for 5-10 yrs. However, many deposits will mine out in the next 2-5 yrs, starting with Mercassium.
Current plans call for one or more of the new platforms to be towed to VI-M7 to support duranium mining efforts, as well as (hopefully) to any new found Mercassium sources.
Some also advocate for the emplacement of mines on Semichi III to mine and produce infrastructure in-situ. This may be doable if production is focused in the orbitals above the crushing grav well, and mines are mostly teleoperatred. This plan of directly tearing into the neighbor’s planet is met with some trepidation, but it may be the most efficient way of delivering added infrastructure.
-
In those days, Bahman was nowhere to be found. Tauriz rose ascendant, and Hordad was cast down from the heavens in fire, flung into the arms of Anahita upon Shahrewar, chased by unbending lighting.
-Excerpt from the Perugian Epic of the Sundering
After the End, New Perugian Calendar, YR3:
Jan 4, Gaia High Orbit:
A bustle of activity fills the high orbitals of Gaia. To darkward, floating alone and forlorn, a diamond pattern of four huge new constructions floats motionless relative to Crono's reference frame in the Argo yard. Occasional stray bursts of radiation flicker and sift their way to his spines from that distant source, the final touches as pre-assembled modules launched from the surface are slotted into place.
Above - relative to the deck of the drydock- distant pinpricks stir the warp with their nuclear drive wakes. As Semichi III and Gaia near their closest conjunction, Aphrodite class carracks are returning for loading on a nearly weekly basis, sometimes overlapping with the smaller and slower Asamara class cargo vessels. Just this week, the Asamara's have actually made a round trip more quickly than the faster Aphrodite - simply due to their smaller cargo bay ratio cutting their unload time at the Neighbor's world. Clearly, something will need to be done about that, Cronos muses.
But, enough spine twisting - there is work to do.
Feb 7, Patroclus Diplomacy Vessel, High Orbit of Semichi III:
Iatragoras' spines resonated outwards chagrin, euphoria, and humor in equal measures. The other members of his team echoed and amplified the signal, layering on high tones of mirth and notes of embarrassment.
How could they have missed something so obvious for so long?
Iatragoras had finally received permission from the home office to follow Gestures Wildly back to his domicile, to see how he lived.
For the better part of a year, ever since Gestures Wildly had first made the offer, he had petitioned to be allowed to make an extended ground mission to the nearby Neighbor population center, but his requests had been bogged down, slowly percolating up the layers of civil servants until they reached Alphios of Myndus' desk - who had promptly rejected the proposal as needlessly dangerous. The prevailing opinion back home, amongst the Kapetyn who had not actually interacted with the Neighbors (and many of those who had), was that they were dangerous and possibly insane.
It was only in the aftermath of the recent stowaway incident that the idea had finally started to gain traction - as Kapetyn began to realize that if they did not go and make the effort to communicate with the Neighbors, the Neighbors may well come to them. Faced with that dichotomy, the decision to move forward with his visit was straightforward. It was hoped that by seeing how they lived, perhaps some breakthroughs could be made in understanding these strange creatures. And my, had it paid off in spades.
It had all started with a very innocuous question, while walking the halls of the underground domicile with Gestures Wildly - how did the Neighbor's navigate this arouraíos nest?
His guide had paused and jolted, in a way that he had learned indicated statement. Then, he has simply gestured at the wall and signaled 'attention here' at a section of the flat, cold surface. No obvious weft was apparent - no leak of microwaves or radio which might indicate a technological guidance system. Curiously, Iatragoras had placed a forelimb on the surface, and discovered a slightly different texture, a layer so thin as to be imperceptible from the rest of the surface to the resolution of his spines.
Of course. If the Neighbors perceive a different spectrum, they would also signal in it. Obvious. Elementary. Alien.
Before the adoption of electronic microwave signal boosters, amplifiers, and recorders, tens of thousands of years ago, ancient Kapetyn had encoded information tactilely, in strands of knotted cord. This was still used for family registers, in some more traditional families, but was not taught as a part of the normal curriculum. It was a system that most Kapetyn would never think twice of. Simply a dead code language, of no significance to a modern Kapetyn - surely other technological races would also have abandoned such low-tech information encoding systems long ago?
Apparently not. It would seem that the Neighbors had an analogous system of invisible short-wave radiation absorbing scribbles. And, with several tombs full of these invisible scribbles in hand, and the interpretation of Gestures Wildly, their team now finally had a guide star to help them through the strange nuance and context based language of the neighbors.
Feb 9, Bunker 3, Shahrewar:
Bahraman packed his meager belongings into the travel case in a daze. He was unsure where to place blame for this latest unexpected twist of the helter skelter trajectory of his life in the last two years. Did the blame lie with the well meaning but incomprehensible Hedgehog? Or should it, like many other recent turns, be laid at the feet of Abbaseh and his callous machinations?
It had all started with an innocuous gesture from the Hedgehog, couched in the interrogative stance, a question asked with no ill will and holding no compulsion. An offer which he had quickly and wholeheartedly declined. That should have been the end of it, had he lived in a sane world.
Unfortunately, Bahraman had still not yet corrected his bad habit of reporting completely and accurately on his interactions with the Hedgehogs. Abbaseh, being Abbaseh, had not agreed with his entirely sane and reasonable decision to decline the Hedgehog.
And so, he had gone back to reverse his own better judgement in favor of Abbaseh’s - and to acquiesce to the Hedgehog’s request.
Which brings us to the present. His bags were packed. He was as prepared as he would ever be for the short trip ahead of him, just a few day trip across the neighborhood, or so Abbaseh had cajoled him. A short trip (temporally) which would cover more distance from Shahrewar than any Perugian had previously ventured.
It would seem that his Hedgehog ‘friend’ had been recalled back home to a new posting, a more prestigious one, or so he infered. And Bahraman would be joining him for the ride, in his capacity as Interstellar Ambassador (and his new side gig of first interstellar spy), much to his chagrin.
OOC: Side Note- Since my name convention was Persian/Iranian and my system theme was Demon Lords, I pulled some (semi) random Zoroastrian daeva/avestan names to give my Perugian mythos and clan names some flavor. No real connection to Zoroastrianism is intended, no offense is meant to anyone, I know nothing about these names beyond a 1 sentence wiki summary plz don't hurt me ;p.
-
An
Wizard AAR commenter is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. ;)
In those days, Bahman was nowhere to be found. Tauriz rose ascendant, and Hordad was cast down from the heavens in fire, flung into the arms of Anahita upon Shahrewar, chased by unbending lighting.
-Excerpt from the Perugian Epic of the Sundering
Now I want a spinoff in which you carefully lay out the entire Perugian mythology with thinly-veiled yet obvious references to Aurora lore and game mechanics in the guise of deities and miraculous events. ;D
For the better part of a year, ever since Gestures Wildly had first made the offer, he had petitioned to be allowed to make an extended ground mission to the nearby Neighbor population center, but his requests had been bogged down, slowly percolating up the layers of civil servants until they reached Alphios of Myndus' desk - who had promptly rejected the proposal as needlessly dangerous. The prevailing opinion back home, amongst the Kapetyn who had not actually interacted with the Neighbors (and many of those who had), was that they were dangerous and possibly insane.
The classic assessment of the overburdened benevolent overlords regarding the primitive colonials in a faraway land since time immemorial, naturally.
Less sardonically, I do like the intriguing and quite natural consequence of two species perceiving different parts of the EM spectrum. Oddly, while we don't see too much of that in our world for various biophysical reasons, we do see this with the acoustic spectrum, so it is a logical extension.
One wonders if the Perugians will be clever enough to devise new writing inks or paints with both "visible" and microwave spectrum components? I'm not sure what kind of technological trickery this would require but I do think not too strong of an emitter additive would be needed.
It would seem that his Hedgehog ‘friend’ had been recalled back home to a new posting, a more prestigious one, or so he infered. And Bahraman would be joining him for the ride, in his capacity as Interstellar Ambassador (and his new side gig of first interstellar spy), much to his chagrin.
I predict hilarious ambassadorial hijinks.
OOC: Side Note- Since my name convention was Persian/Iranian and my system theme was Demon Lords, I pulled some (semi) random Zoroastrian daeva/avestan names to give my Perugian mythos and clan names some flavor. No real connection to Zoroastrianism is intended, no offense is meant to anyone, I know nothing about these names beyond a 1 sentence wiki summary plz don't hurt me ;p.
Aww...does this mean I came all this way with a stake and a torch for nothing? Well, damn... someone find me a space witch to burn, then. :P
-
Hope to see more updates soon, I was enjoying this fresh take on an AAR. Very interesting!
-
YR3 (cont):
Feb 17, Semichi III High Orbit, Aboard Diplomatic Vessel Patroclus:
Teacher Hecuba of Pella, the new leader of the the Kapetyn Diplomatic Mission to the Neighbors, sputtered out a series of low energy pops as he replayed the report. Prior to his appointment to his post, he had focused primarily on the mission work so far completed - the significant progress made in delivering infrastructure to millions. After all - most of the reports had been focused on the situation at the landing drop sites, which had now started to stabilize somewhat. However, hiding behind that thin veneer of progress was a much moldier and more worm eaten truth - the rest of the planet had gone to smeg.
The latest report from the southern plateau, so far untouched by Kapetyn landings, drove home the truth - drone footage of roaming cannibal bands fighting to the last neighbor, with the victors commencing to smoke and preserve the deceased in situ.
For the first time, Hecuba came to fully understand the fatalistic reverberations he had been inundated in since his arrival on the Patroclus the week prior.
OOC: Stability on Shahrewar has hit 1% (minimum).
Feb 27, Gaia High Orbit, Argos Yard
Cronos of Argyroupoli splayed his spines to regard the exuberant youngster before him and shook himself, trying (not very successfully) to clamp down on the hum of mirth alloyed with irony which he could feel seeping out of his every pore. Fortunately, Peisandros of Baris was far too animatedly blatting out his proclamations of the new doctrine of shipyard streamlining and project management to spare much bandwidth for detection of such a subtle undertone. Still, Cronos feel the slight mirth mixed with embarrassment echoed back to him from a few of his other colleagues in the room - who were not so warp deafened, and redoubled his efforts to clamp down.
Cronos was not sure if he should be feeling elated or insulted. For the last two days, Peisandros had been holding seminars on the 'new doctrine' of shipyard management. All of it amounted to little more than common sense, so far as he could tell. However, nothing the youngster was spewing out into the airwaves was outwrite wrong, which was a bit surprising, coming from an egghead. And, after being at ground zero for the lack in common sense two years ago during the first rush to produce the Aphrodite class, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go about formalizing some of these supposedly 'common sense' procedures.
March 1, Gaia, Perugian Embassy
Bahraman contemplated on the nature of relativity for perhaps the 10,000th time since his arrival on Gaia, as he bounded across the large pressurized enclosure which constituted his embassy. Although traditional theory dictated that length contraction should only be noticable at near relativistic velocities, he was starting to have his doubts.
The enclosure itself measured well in excess of 100 body lengths to a side, with a ceiling rising too high to touch, even with a full leap in the local (minuscule) gravity. By the standards of a Perugian who had been hot bunking in an underground shelter for the past several years, it was truly gargantuan. It was an edifice which effectively and wordlessly communicated both the largess and the power of the Hedgehogs.
And yet... as he made great bounds across and around the space in an effort to maintain his health (physical and mental), the space seemed to shrink down to smaller than even the living space of Bunker III. While he could still, in theory, go outside here with a similar level of protection as he had back on Shahrewar -- it was just so... different. Even in the worst storm of radioactive dust, Shahrewar had felt... correct somehow, in a way that the murky atmosphere, dull tiny sun, and pitiful gravity of the rift valleys here in the Hedgehog's den never could. Isolated on an alien world in this palatial chamber, he somehow felt more claustrophobic than he ever had back in that delipidated bunker.
As he eased back to a more normal pace and slowly bounced across the space to cool off, his mind once again snapped to his desk, and the reports half formed on his slate. At least the Hedgehogs provided him with many interesting distractions from his solitude - like the most recent matter he had been asked to translate.
March 2, Shahrewar, Bunker III
Abbaseh read the latest report beamed to him from orbit, contemplating briefly the inconvenience of having to trust the Hedgehogs to relay messages for them. But, his mind quickly focused on the matter at hand.
This was... promising. It would seem that the Hedgehogs had come across some rather... interesting phrases in the old tongue, and had asked Bahraman for an interpretation. Bahraman had in turn asked him for his opinion first. After all, with light speed communication provided free of charge, it was fairly trivial to send over a daily report and bury the most important part a third or so in. Fortunately, the Hedgehogs were not much for the subtleties of the Perugian language as of yet, and much could be read between the lines of a sufficiently large wall of text.
It seemed that it was time for Bahraman to take a little... artistic license in his normally dry translations. Now, how to tell Bahraman that, without telling him that, per se...
Perhaps he would have to consult with an authority on the old tongue and relay their translation... yes. Of course, he would neglect to mention that any adult Perugian was perfectly fluent in the few formal phrases of the language which survived.
March 9, between the orbits of Semichi VII & VIII, Persius 001
Deipylus of Naxos sputtered and chirped indignation and vile profanity in tight directed bursts towards anyone and no-one, sweeping the cramped space of what was (for some long forgotten reason) referred to as the Boiler Room with a searchlight beam of indignation and detailed negative assessments of the character of the yardmen at Heraclea. Her digits bled as she hoisted the replacement engine ducts into place, sweltering from the effort - although the ship itself was in freefall with the engines acceleration cut, holding the mass of the ducting steady without allowing it to crash about the cramped cabin was still a straining workout in precision and control. And, if not careful, the mass could still inflict more than adequate damage in freefall, as her digits attested.
Adding to the pressure (both on her mind and of her profanity), she had discovered that this was the only piece of such ducting stocked in ships stores by the yard. Perhaps a suitable replacement part could be printed if some other less vital components were melted down for scrap - perhaps. If this job was botched, it would be a long walk home, and she had no real desire to make the trip on a jury rigged component.
The detailed (and profanity laden) report blat - more of a sirens wail, truly - which she would submit to her captain would find itself reflected and magnified up the chain of command with surprisingly little censorship - only further embellishment by each successive layer of the newly created Kapetyn Survey Command.
The final explosion of indignant radiation which would reach Alphios of Myndus' office in some weeks would cause his entire staff to blanch and lead to a full re-check of the maintenance status of the survey command, as well as the diplomatic and logistics vessels. It would also prompt some belated thought on the amount of engineering and maintenance bay space which should be considered 'adequate' for a long haul survey craft.
OOC Authors Note: Thanks for the prodding to keep this going. I've had a bit of writers block because it felt like the game side of things was limiting my ability to control the pacing of the story side of things, and I am not quite sure how to resolve that. For now I'll just try to power through the first arc, haha. I suspect at some point my work of fiction may decouple completely from my actual game, but that's still quite a ways away :).
-
OOC: Stability on Shahrewar has hit 1% (minimum).
Uh oh. Well, uh, good luck mate!
Cronos was not sure if he should be feeling elated or insulted. For the last two days, Peisandros had been holding seminars on the 'new doctrine' of shipyard management. All of it amounted to little more than common sense, so far as he could tell. However, nothing the youngster was spewing out into the airwaves was outwrite wrong, which was a bit surprising, coming from an egghead. And, after being at ground zero for the lack in common sense two years ago during the first rush to produce the Aphrodite class, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go about formalizing some of these supposedly 'common sense' procedures.
Section III, Subsection Beta, Paragraph 42: Do not ram one ship into another.
;D
And yet... as he made great bounds across and around the space in an effort to maintain his health (physical and mental), the space seemed to shrink down to smaller than even the living space of Bunker III. While he could still, in theory, go outside here with a similar level of protection as he had back on Shahrewar -- it was just so... different. Even in the worst storm of radioactive dust, Shahrewar had felt... correct somehow, in a way that the murky atmosphere, dull tiny sun, and pitiful gravity of the rift valleys here in the Hedgehog's den never could. Isolated on an alien world in this palatial chamber, he somehow felt more claustrophobic than he ever had back in that delipidated bunker.
There's no place like (that radiation-infested hellhole we call) home. Now, just click the heels of your plutonium-infused ruby slippers three times...
This was... promising. It would seem that the Hedgehogs had come across some rather... interesting phrases in the old tongue, and had asked Bahraman for an interpretation. Bahraman had in turn asked him for his opinion first. After all, with light speed communication provided free of charge, it was fairly trivial to send over a daily report and bury the most important part a third or so in. Fortunately, the Hedgehogs were not much for the subtleties of the Perugian language as of yet, and much could be read between the lines of a sufficiently large wall of text.
For all the advanced technology and purported enlightenment of the Kapetyn society, it seems that the Perugians are the ones well-versed in the language of academic discourse. How curious.
The detailed (and profanity laden) report blat - more of a sirens wail, truly - which she would submit to her captain would find itself reflected and magnified up the chain of command with surprisingly little censorship - only further embellishment by each successive layer of the newly created Kapetyn Survey Command.
The final explosion of indignant radiation which would reach Alphios of Myndus' office in some weeks would cause his entire staff to blanch and lead to a full re-check of the maintenance status of the survey command, as well as the diplomatic and logistics vessels. It would also prompt some belated thought on the amount of engineering and maintenance bay space which should be considered 'adequate' for a long haul survey craft.
The nice thing about writing fiction is that the player can blame everything on their characters and no one can question them. ;D
OOC Authors Note: Thanks for the prodding to keep this going. I've had a bit of writers block because it felt like the game side of things was limiting my ability to control the pacing of the story side of things, and I am not quite sure how to resolve that. For now I'll just try to power through the first arc, haha. I suspect at some point my work of fiction may decouple completely from my actual game, but that's still quite a ways away :).
I try to view Aurora as a story generator rather than a story-telling tool. If one tries to force Aurora to tell the story one wants to write, it frequently will refuse to do so and start spluttering some nonsense about an alien race with several dozen battle cruisers bearing down on the homeworld, instead. Used in the former manner, this means you get the, ah, opportunity to write a story about several dozen alien battle cruisers bearing down on the homeworld. Sadly, not all stories have happy endings.
Aside, I do wish readers would comment more actively. Not only to encourage the authors as here (though this is very important!), but as a reader it's always fun to see other perspectives and to engage in stimulating discussion rampant speculation and baseless hypotheticals. ;D