PerfectThought

Shit I Wrote Waiting To Buy Green

life passes by in a blur
like a stream under a bridge
as i look down on the bridge
not really looking
the eye focused inward
focused inward, mulling over the intricacies of our lives
the bleakness, the sameness
the facades and follies
but purest of all, the sublime beauties. the small joys and accidental pieces of art created by our environment. the small happinesses and joys of the people around us. spreading like a virus, tinting our inner eye with a honey coloured lense.
it's not all bad when you stop to smell the flowers. or the rivers. the subtle scent of acrid smoke. the overpowering sweetness of a drink. the illustrious subtleties in the most basic of architectures surrounding us.

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

I do apologize folks. I was a third through my post when I just decided "feck it I'm going full Scots" and broke out Scotranslate.

Actually no I don't apologize this is going to be great. If the Scots gets to hard let me know. I'll try and make it easier.

@BigPapaBelial

Mad respect my friend. The sheer concept of a Scots feline doctor on a seedy space freighter had me cackling.

Shit I Wrote Waiting To Buy Green

i left a jar behind.
watching, a thought and an observer separated worlds apart; as i kick the permanence of the jar underneath the mud.
a footprint of my history, stamped it's tiny stamp on the earth.
the stamp of a boy walking through a field next to a river, a boy and a thought and an observer split and drifting worlds apart.
the jar left under the mud in the field. as the river flows past. and i know that i have made a mark.
a mark that will last. no one may ever find it. no one may ever understand what the mark means. but possibly, one day, someone i do not know may find a trace of me. and they will not know me, or who i was, the nuances of my life, or what my motive was. they will not know my name, or my face, or my other footprints. but they will know one thing: i dropped a jar, in a field, next to a river. and i was a boy, and a thought, and an observer, split up worlds apart.

and i hope one day i will leave a larger footprint, complex enough to tell my story, and hopefully people will remember that story fondly.
but eventually, one day, i will be forgotten.
and i hope, some piece of the thought, or the observer, remain.
maybe as the jar in the field. maybe some other tiny footprint i leave. for i can only hope they remain, because i am not sure how they boy can express the thought, or the observer, split up worlds apart.
i do not know if i will be strong enough to leave a deeper, brighter footprint. i can only hope this will serve as a jar in the mud.
and the boy sits down. and reigns in the thoughts, and the observer, and reels them in. like focusing a lens. and he writes. for you. because somewhere, the i wish to tell you of the thoughts, and the observer split up worlds apart. and you will be my jar. and for that, i will be your jar.

Shit I Wrote Waiting To Buy Green

It's pretty self-explanatory. Britain is a shit hole. And there's beauty in the most unexpected corners of my beautiful country. It'll probably be mostly uncapitalised bullshit I wrote fried off my ass. But I think it's at least somewhat interesting.

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

Parmesan 'Parma-Violet' Camembert

Parmesan Camembert

'Parma-Violet'

Core Details

Name: Parmesan 'Parma-Violet' Camembert
Age:380
Gender:None, male presenting.
Species: Ro'om Ktaballyt (Auran)

Species Details

Species Name: Ro'om Ktaballyt (Commonly,: Auran)
Brief Overview: Complex Colonial Entity that requires specific environmentals and therefore lives inside an environment suit, somewhat like a hermit crab. Their history, language, and culture has largely been erased in a tragic series of exploitative genocides.
Details:

Auran

The Ro'om Ktaballyt are a Colonial organism comprised of Aurora crystals. Highly prized for their innate ability to grow large Aurora crystal complexes. Not much is known about how they originally lived in the wild, or their original culture due to the fact that upon their discovery their culture and society was almost completely eradicated by megacorporations exploiting them as a source of Aura in massive concentration camps. Due to the fact they in effect do not age, they can live for incredibly long periods of time, and reproduce incredibly slowly. Due to this it is unknown whether their race will ever be capable of recovering fully, if at all. An incredibly interesting aspect of them is that on their home planet the atmosphere consisted largely of noble gases, this meant carbon life struggled to evolve, instead being outmatched by silicon life. This means the sentience of the Ro'om Ktaballyt is far more comparable to an AI or other sentient computers. The evolutionary solution to the massive data quantities that were needed for silicon life to evolve in this manner was to use the unique and massive data-transferral properties of Aura. Due to its prolifence on their home planet the atmosphere was heavily infused with incredibly fine Aura dust this mix is called Bhduoi and holds a certain level of holiness in what little Ro'om Ktaballyt culture is still intact. If they do not have sufficient concentrations of Bhuduoi their mental capabilities will rapidly decline until the cessation of all mental activity whatsoever. A horrible death. The Bhuduoi also allows them to share information and communicate with other Ro'om Ktaballyt processing the same network of Bhduoi. They do not hold any form of unique spoken or written language, instead it was believed by historians that originally they would have communicated with each other via the Bhduoi. What little elements they do have of a spoken language was both largely wiped out and also believed to have been developed from loan words exclusively to communicate with a very low class civilisation of carbon life forms that had developed on their homeworld's moon. Now long extinct, almost nothing of them is known. This means the Ro'om Ktaballyt require a special envirosuit to live, in foreign atmospheres. They do not respire in the same way as carbon life forms so if envirosuit security is maintained the gas mix only needs to be renewed rarely. As a race they are incredibly rare, and those that still exist tend to keep their heads under the radar due to their incredible value, and many do not consider them fully sentient (a dangerous and racist belief).

Crew Skills & Equipment

Equipment & Augments:A brief list of any notable bits of gear or equipment that others might notice on your character. Non-conclusive and can be updated as necessary

• Specialist Armoured Ro'om Ktaballyt Aura Envirosuit (itself very valuable)
• 50,000cm³ of heavily Aura infused xenon gas.
• One 10mm ZM-AK 'Eclipse', an infamous cheap reliable handgun, designed as a cheaper replica of a Glock, chambered in 10mm ammunition. They pack a reasonable punch and are famed for their accuracy and ease of use.
• Large size and inhuman strength, however not coordinated or experience in hand-to-hand combat in any way.

Skills & Abilities:A brief list of any notable skills, innate or magical abilities your character is capable of. Non-conclusive and can be updated as necessary

• Incredible feats of mental maths and cognitive abilities, believed to be innate to all Ro'om Ktaballyt.
• Functional immortality.
• Due to his age Parma-Violet is extremely knowledgeable in many subject, as well as extremely experienced in the freight industry.

Crew Details

Appearance:
Parma-Violet himself is an unremarkable cluster of white crystals in a cloudy gas. However his envirosuit is a pale purple colour, humanoid, with 5 fingers and standing around 6'8 set incredibly broad. His envirosuit is covered in graffiti of all kinds of nature, and is draped in many different fabrics and pelts. Notably a shabby regal purple cloak. His suit has no temperature control unit, so he has to maintain his optimal functioning temperature manually.

Personality:
Parma-Violet is an old soul, quite literally. And tends to keep a calm calculating head on at most times. He is (quite rightly) incredibly distrustful, and wary of strangers. However he has a soft spot for children and youths of any race. He is incredibly loyal to his friends and colleagues, and is very happy to talk and offer some of his extensive knowledge or advice. He is incredibly hesitant to get into confrontations of any kind, due to them drawing attention to him. He is also incredibly wary of any form of authority that he is unfamiliar with, especially corporations or government. He is also fairly religious and incredibly protective of his remaining culture, and spends his free time investigating what little evidence of his species is left and documenting it as extensively as he can. He is desperately searching for another of his species to reproduce with, given he believes he may be coming to the end of his life cycle.

History:
By his estimate the oldest living Ro'om Ktaballyt and though he does not know exactly how long they live for, he estimates he is nearing the end, the how close he is he is not sure. When he was very young the exploitation of his planet began, him and his community were promptly forced into a concentration camp to labour until they died of exhaustion. Fortunately for them their camp was liberated in a slave revolt weeks after the occupation began. Him and a collection of other Ro'om Ktaballyt were smuggled off planet on pirate freighters. Hours later the liberated camps were eradicated by Vacuum bombs. Thus the true subjugation of the Ro'om Ktaballyt began. Parma-Violet was brought to an abandoned supply depot by his smugglers and left, as instructed. This is the location he and his community would be reunited, instead he was left there, isolated, scavenging the small outpost for a means to repair the comms array so he could hail a freelance freighter. Eventually after 50 years a small smuggler ship landed to hide from some system authority ships. Upon which he made contact for the first time in decades, his common skills limited to what he'd learnt from the remaining media upon the station he proposed working for them in return for passage off the god forsaken outpost. Since then he has worked for about 200 years gallivanting around and trying to find out the fate of others of his species. He took up residence as crew of the Guernica long before it was ever known as the Guernica, and he has watched crew members come and go and adventures pass over, but has decided he has found his home. He has not dared return to his home planet, for fear either the grief or privateers would kill him.

Quirk:
Strangely enough, despite being an alien lifeform Parma appears to have taken quite the shine to Nicotine at some point in time, especially Tobacco. It appears to have different, strong effects on his kind. Including but not limited to improved motor skills, and at higher dosages hallucinogenic properties. He smokes via a specially made filter port built into his face plate. He can often be found idly puffing on a kretek or enjoying his Hookah during his free time.

Turmoil:
Parma-Violet is desperate to preserve his kind in some way, and spends massive amounts of time doing exactly that. Additionally, though most know very little of the Ro'om Ktaballyt, those who do would be more than happy to butcher him and sell off his valuable envirosuit, crystalline body, and Bhduoi.

Thanks for the opportunity to make a character for this really cool RP! And thanks for giving me a chance, even if I was a little late to the draw. :)

@vietmyke

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

Luck, First Officer.

Luck hated Taxore. Infamous for it's crime and extreme weather. He had no issue with the first part: wherever crime was money followed. But he had a particular bone to pick with bad weather. It was hard on him, and it was hard on his ship. And he was yet to ascertain whatever they were doing down there was worth him having to pick sand out of his radiators for the next few months. He had been on bridge duty for the last 48 hours subjective time, with the other crew members popping in and out to offer their help. It wasn't strictly needed, but it helped him feel at ease to stop any possible surprises. Either way he was unfazed, he would do what he had to to ensure the Dauntless and him got where he needed safely, and in the process he'd raher have some extra hands spare than not. He had made sure the Captain's orders were carried out to the quality he wished. With a stable orbit round the dusty brown sphere dubbed 'Taxore' he had made doubly sure they were high enough up in case they changed their minds and pissed off somewhere else. He certainly wouldn't complain.

He quickly took stock of the ship's registered of inventory. They would last a few more days, but they might need to restock on fuel sooner than he had hoped. He quickly computated the weight of their cargo. Nothing worth worrying about, even counting the unregistered 30 kilograms of Splinter he'd left scattered throughout the superstructure of the Dauntless. Splinter was a nasty substance, both an inert precursor to an illegal explosive often used by anti-corpo extremists, and also a highly addictive performance drug favoured by armed personnel, engineers, labourers, and pilots alike. It was known for it's motor and cognitive improvement skills, as well it's reputation for violently killing people that aren't careful using it.

None of that particularly bothered Luck, but he what he was worried about was that he had yet to be able to sell off his 'personal investment'. He'd acquired the stock at a legendarily low price a few months ago. He'd bought it as a backup in case the new ship's new owner turned out to be incompetent. He still wasn't sure of the Captain completely, but he seemed to capable so far. Even so, Luck intended to invest in some new parts for the ship, but he would only be able to do that if he wasn't caught trafficking 30 kilos of a Section 9 UNS banned substance. Even worse, many mega-corps also banned it to some degree due to it's usage in partisanal activities. Getting caught would most likely mean his disassembly due to his position as a Silicon second class being.

He was glad none of the crew knew, as that would implicate them. If they did land on Taxore he was hoping to get a sale contact from an associate related to the Fat Pig. Either way he wasn't looking forward to the grit. Finally the Captain began the brief, Luck turned up his exterior audio sensors, listening intently. While the crew contemplated their responses he played back the audio once more inside his head, formulating an appropriately chipper response: "I've crossed paths with his associates once or twice before. Good money. I saw we try taking the job. I think we might need to land to refuel anyway, we're not in the red, but prices are decent here and we could use a bit more. Either way, I wish him luck eating me raw." He ended the sentence with a suitably organic sounding chuckle, to hammer home the lightness of the decision, he hoped.

@Milkman

See you space samurai... A space opera

@vietmykeA lot of interest has been showed, and you've mentioned you dont want too many pkayers. Fully understand that, but if you have any spare charatcer slots I would love to submit a CS! Sci-fi really is my jam. Please let me know! :)

Thinking maybe a gaseous xeno (maybe linked in with Aurora) that acts as the Guernica's QM/Manager? Depends on the current crew/ships structure. B)

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

I think an important consideration would be 1) character attitudes, and 2) length of residence on the ship. I'm inferring the length of enployment on the ship is Luck, Evren, and then an indeterminate amount order Darien and Anxi. Due to it seeminv unspecified in the CS. I'd imagine the whole crew is somewhat close due to the small size.

Hard Sci-fi Crime/Military

Fucking hell you have a lot of ideas. Nice. Would they be analogous to space freight trucks or space freight ships? Either way certainly agree with youf ideas.

Hard Sci-fi Crime/Military

How hard are we talking?

@LustForDecay

Hmm. Not quite sure how to answer that. What's the scale you would say sci-fi hardness operates at? Because I'm thinking something like Dune level hardness, but in a cowboy bebop style "Sci-fi Western" type environment. But in the end it all dpends on how hard sci-fi we eant to make it.