It's 2025, and perched on an invisible branch like a robotic condor, an elegant spaceship watches over the two-legged gawking ants. When the first nukes soared silently, almost serenely, over the horizon, curling ever so gently, you didn't know what was going to happen. It didn't seem real. No way was a missile flying over your head to obliterate an alien spaceship. Well, no way indeed. The nuke got about a kilometer within range before it simply vanished and the trails of billowing vapour in the air curled apart languidly. People watching didn't know how to react, there was just so much amazing and impossible things happening in such quick succession. Nothing moves, the wind refuses to exhale, and finally a banner - a banner of all things - unravels in the gales hundreds of meters above, reading simply 'WE ARE FRIENDLY'. When someone comes prepared with streamers, it seems correct to lend them your ear. An hour later, the south lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Drive seems a lot smaller than usual with the shadow of the ship turning the White House into the Black House, and outside, armed to the teeth, was every special forces branch available to deploy, encircled on a small patch only 10 meters or so in diameter. The President, John Olsen, stands nervously on the periphery of this jagged, pulsating circle of swear and adrenaline. It is not long before a large hatch on the underbelly of the spacecraft breaches, the bolts turning in their place heard all the way down on the trimmed grass. Hundreds of feet away the wind can be heard whistling between the legs of the watchers, and the metal fences creak as thousands of pounds worth of force is applied absent-mindedly. A shuttle speeds down rapidly, and the slide and click of automatic rifles accompany the soft landing. The sounds of safeties being turned off shuts out the quite hissing of the shuttle doors opening, and out from the gloomy pod steps a single lifeform.
"Are guns entirely necessary? I refuse to believe your first instinct if an alien willingly visits you is to point firearms at them. Mr Oslen, I presume?" the figure asked to the sweaty man in the pristine suit. It was about 5'11" and quite thin, with an extraordinarily tiny mouth with little pebble eyes, clear blue. It's ears were large gaping slits with the lips at the back spreading a little wider than those at the front, and they curved down across its cheekbones to where a typical humans nostrils would be.
"It's Olsen, actually, but yes, that is correct. And what's your name?" the President asked in an attempt to be polite, but his eyes kept drawing to the twitching lips on the side of the aliens head.
"I apologise, English is a pretty tricky language, and there's already roughly 4,600 other languages in there. Give or take. You know how it is, intergalactic power plays and all that." The alien laughed, with sounded more like a long-term smoker gargling salt water. "Well I'm Thv'ar, and I'm from the planet Vrou'k, so that makes me a Vrieak. How does that make you feel, Mr Olsen, knowing you are the first person to undoubtedly make contact with other lifeforms?" Thv'ar asked. He had meant it to be polite but the look on the President's face indicated it had come off as patronising, like a professor of mathematics calling a 10-year-old an idiot for getting his multiplications wrong.
"I'm quite grateful that it is me you've chosen, but it still begs the question about what the nature of this... visit is," the President said. Thv'ar stuck out his ungainly, seven-fingered hand but Olsen looked cautious, as if either of them could die from touch.
"You won't shake my hand? My researcher assured me this was common courtesy on Earth," Thv'ar said. A look of confusion (we assume) crossed his face.
"It is, yes, but wouldn't me being human and you being... Vrieak... have a different immune system?" Olsen asked.
"Yeah, but as long as you haven't used soap any time over the past year and a half we should be okay," Thv'ar said, outstretching has hand even more. President Olsen got a panicked look on his face before Thv'ar 'laughed' again. "I'm kidding! I have had all my immunisations and you humans aren't susceptible to any of our pathogens, bacteria, or viruses." The President looked less panicked, and shook his hand slowly. "Now, down to business?" he asked, gesturing towards the White House.

"You still haven't told me the nature of your visit, Mr Thv'ar," the President said as he settled into his chair in the Oval Office.
"It's really quite simple actually. If you'll indulge me for a moment, I'd be happy to explain a little about who I represent and what our aims are for you here," Thv'ar said. He smiled and placed a little green triangle on the desk. "Green is my favourite colour," he added as the President eyed it curiously. Thv'ar pressed a button and Olsen flinched slightly, earning a disapproving look from the visitor. A hologram flickered in the air with various images swirling around.
"Apologies," Olsen said meekly.
"We're not all anal probers, you know," Thv'ar said, slightly upset. "I represent the Consortium of Intergalactic Relations, or the CIR for short, and our aim is to watch and evaluate the... younger species in our universe until we determine they are mature enough to join us. If they become unruly and decide not to, we mark them down on a black list as dangerous. The CIR would be your United Nations I believe, except we take action when things get out of hand. If the black listed race causes trouble with infant races or CIR members, we will provide aid to those who are being hassled. But we aren't just a peacekeeping force, we are essentially a government for the universe. We have our own markets, trading routes with discounts from other CIR members, we have relaxed borders with each other to help increase tourism and awareness, and we share knowledge. I want to assure you from the get-go that this is not an invasion or take-over, this really is just us recognising that Humankind has grown-up and can handle itself. We'll scratch that incident with the nukes from the history textbooks, but you didn't shoot me when I landed which is a good start," Thv'ar said.
"You've given me a few reasons to join your... organisation. These are reasons I can accept, but I have no proof that, one, you people, aliens, whatever, are telling the truth, and two, this is legitimate," the President responded.
"We figured you'd say that, which is why I had market portfolios printed for you - what peculiar machines those printers are - and a regulation handbook for the CIR translated for you," the Vrieak said, handing over the odd-textured sheets.
"This isn't paper, is it?" Olsen asked.
"I have no idea what it is, I just had my engineers guess how a printer worked and we mushed stuff up to get the material," Thv'ar responded. It was in fact normal paper, just different trees.
Olsen scanned the market print-outs, nodding occasionally and frowning more often. "What would be the dollar to thisexchange rate?"
Thv'ar grimaced. "This is where things don't go as planned. Seeing as Earth has very little to offer right now, it would be low. My experts are thinking a dollar for 0.04 Volvs. However, this is where our buddy program and the knowledge sharing comes into play. We'll give you the knowledge to build your own industry that would help benefit the economy, which I absolutely assure you is stable, and from there we can expect to see a significant increase in your rates within 30 years."
"30 years! We don't have 30 years! How much is it for cheap food at the average diner?"
"Around ¬3. And you'll excuse me if I interject, but you're a new candidate with no skills, a highly unpredictable people, and you can't even keep control of your global economy! You'll excuse us if we don't quite trust you yet with the universal stock market. And anyway, the universe has been around for nearly 14 billion years, you can wait another 30 to buy a hamburger, you oaf," Thv'ar finished. His ear lips were huffing furiously yet the alien himself looked calm. "You called me an alien earlier, too. I'd like to point out that you're an alien to me. It's all the same boat, my friend." Thv'ar stood up and looked around. "I'm not sure if this was such an good idea as I had thought. So long, Mr President."
"Wait. Forgive me. This has all been, straining, to say the least. Take a seat, please," Olsen said, indicating to the recently-vacant chair. Thv'ar took it again. "The people of this planet will never accept such a low exchange rate. I would know, because I wouldn't. What if we abolished our own currencies and took up the Volv?" Thv'ar looked at him, interested.
"It would turn out to around $1 to ¬0.45, maybe ¬0.5 if I talk to them, because I'm strating to enjoy you humans for al your angry little quirks. It would also probably increase within up to 15 years since you're fully invested. Would you be willing to do that?"
"I think so."
"Okay then. You'll need a leader, someone to liason with us. We much to prefer it isn't a nation leader already, preferably someone unknown but with good reasoning, quick, incorruptible as much as possible, and definitely articulate. Electing a nation leader as world leader causes issues, we've found. We do have a lot more to discuss though, and then we'd like for you to call a summit meeting to discuss with your fellow national leaders. We're hoping you can communicate what we talk about at that meeting." Thv'ar stood up and collected his green triangle. "After you," he gestured to the door. The two beings, side-by-side, exited the White House and travelled up to Thv'ar's ceremonial traveller ship, and one lucky photographer, a nobody within the flashes and the bulbs, captured the defining moment of the new era: Thv'ar, the Vrieak, and John Olsen, the Human, walking together in stride, laughing at a passing joke, a moment of genuine brotherly happiness that cemented the positive image of interplanetary visitors

The image of the President of the United States and the Director of the Consortium of Intergalactic Relations beemed across the solar system in an instant, hitting the screens of holiday goers on Io and miners on Venus alike. System Guards far beyond Pluto watch the articles unfold online and discuss what this means for them, while pirates hidden in the belts of Jupiter wonder what this means for them as well. Their life had went from a town to a country to a planet to a solar system, and now to a universe.

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance (REAL IMAGE or detailed description, preferably an image and some sort of description though):
Profession:
Other:

Race:
Demonym:
Home Planet:
Description of Home Planet:
General Attitudes to Outsiders:
General Race Attitudes:
Race Customs (and traditions if you wish):
Aggressiveness:
Description of Race:
Member of CIR for How Long?:

Race: Human
Demonym: Human
Home Planet: Earth
Description of Home Planet: 70% water, large masses of land, primarily green with forests or yellow with sand. 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, 1% mixed. 12,742 km diameter, marbled appearance from space due to clouds. 149.6m km from the Sun.
General Attitudes to Outsiders: Historical tendency to be very close-minded resulting in many wars and millions of deaths.
General Race Attitudes: Stubborn, aggressive, often dim-witted and impulsive. Passionate and curious.
Race Customs (and traditions if you wish): Celebrate expulsion from womb annually. Celebrate fat jolly man's anti-burglary annually. Too often tendency to drink for nothing at all. Shake hands upon meeting, firm grasp without injury, not floppy wet napkin.
Aggressiveness: Highly aggressive.
Description of Race: Males are on average 5'10" with wide variations either side, and roughly 13 stone in weight, again with huge variations either way. Hair growing mostly from their head and above their eyes, it often is found on their faces, chests, arms, legs, and genitals, normally sparse. Women are approximately 5' tall with wide varations and 8 stone in weight. Hair can be found on their faces, legs, arms, and genitals, normally sparse. Skin colour is dependent on melanin levels, and hair and eyes are also subject to multiple different colours. Soft and fleshy.
Member of CIR for How Long?: One day.

Race: Vrieak
Demonym: Vrieak
Home Planet: Vrou'k
Description of Home Planet: Stony, underwater deposits of water. Breathable by humans with infrequent use of oxygen pack.
General Attitudes to Outsiders: Friendly, yet stern. Like a teacher.
General Race Attitudes: Eager to share and help, which is one of the reasons that the Vrieak were one of the founding races of the Consortium of Intergalactic Relations. Can be quite short or snappy, but nevertheless good intentions behind it.
Race Customs (and traditions if you wish): A very malleable race so they tend to pick up customs from eaveryone else and mash them together. Customs range wildly between even regions, but they all understand if you cannot remember them. The one custom to remember is to be polite, which will open many many doors with the Vrieak.
Aggressiveness: Very non-aggressive.
Description of Race: Humanoid with marble grey skin, about 5'9" in height and the weight of a skinny nerd with tiny eyes (which are clear blue) and mouth. Gaping slit runs from side of skull to nostrils and are a major part of facial display on Vrou'k. Seven fingers on each hand.
Member of CIR for How Long?: The very beginning.

This is the campervan of Human space travel. Ideal for families taking holidays or travelling in general, it is robust and has a lot of space but is otherwise slow, bulky and indefensible from pirates or cannibals. Used only within the solar system and takes about a month and a half to reach the Security perimeter beyond Pluto, not that you'd want to go there.


The flashy vessel for the flashy businessman. The premier mode of transport across our system. Extremely fast, but clumsy, weak, and only pea-shooter weapons means it is an easy target for those that know what kind of occupant is in it. Can travel the system in 2 weeks.


A standard Security recon ship. Extremely quick and agile, but weak and mostly just deterrent weapons. Can travel the solar system in two weeks, if it were capable of doing that.


Typical Security patrol ship. Pretty powerful, pretty fast, moderately strong, it is feared among those that despise the Security Forces. Can travel the system in a little under 3 weeks.


The Security Forces attack ship of choice. When something needs obliterated, very little stands above this one. Pretty fast, extremely strong, agile, and deadly, it is the A-10 of interstellar warfare. Can travel the system in 2.5 weeks.


Security Forces command ship. Elusive and frightening, the prowling crawl of this beast across the black would terrify any potential attacker. That and the disgusting amount of lasers, cannons, missiles, and nanobombs. Like I said, it's the visage that scares people. Extremely tough, extremely deadly, but slow and clumsy due to its enormous size (big enough to hold 6,000 people). Can travel the system in a month.


Standard merchant ship. Huge hold space, for carrying... stuff... and a robust shell make it a tough catch, but its slow speed, agility and lack of weapons means it is still taken often enough. Can travel the system in a little under a month.

Weapons have not upgraded much more. Semi-guiding ammunition is now the standard which helps to hit the target in strong winds or around slight bends. Lasers are being phased (haha) into the military but are far from common and extremely expensive. Nanobombs (tiny compressed explosives that have a much greater damage) are common on most offensive ships, and electron canons are now commonplace, which helps to deactivate any electronics. Ion cannons are used to punch through the hull as it forces its way between the minute gaps.

All of these spacecrafts depicted here are the basic versions. Paint schemes can change, modifications can be added. Take this ship and build your steed!

Thv'ar's ceremonial ship he uses for travelling with the CIR on important occasions. Due to it's highly-valued occupants, it is extremely fast and capable of intergalactic travel as well as having an extraordinary armoury aboard and is highly resilient to all types of attack. Can travel across the solar system in days.

More to come as more is discovered.

General Interest Check: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93799-high-cas-after-humans-are-accepted-into-alien-government/ooc
Advanced Interest Check: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93897-aphelion/ooc
Casual Interest Check: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93895-high-cas-aphelion-title-wip/ooc