wanderingwolf

Art by Wanderingwolf

Made these for our Firefly Second Verse game:

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hey all!

Check the above refreshed interest checker. We're lookin' for the following crew positions:

• Pilot
• Creative Passenger Ideas

If'n you're interested, send us a PM: @sail3695 @wanderingwolf

Art by Wanderingwolf

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Final Boarding Call

OOC: JP Collab that takes place as an intermission to the party at Bunaglow Bill’s, starring @aalakrys and @wanderingwolf.

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Bungalow Bill’s was replete with charm, pool tables, drinks, and eclectic music, and it was only for a moment that Strand glanced down at the buzzing cortex in his pocket. In the iridescent blue light that spilled from the screen shone the few words from one Hafez Nadal. Cal’s eyes scanned the missive.

“Salutations Captain… Tomorrow, noon… As always, give my best to Penelope.”

The man sure had a flair, but there was business in his blood. The coordinates for their rendezvous were attached. Looked like everything was in order.

Cal glanced up from his seat beside the pool table. With a wave Alana’s way, he rose, coat over his arm. As he passed Abigail he intoned, “Steppin’ out for a spell, order me another?” He paused to catch her eye, “Just not a Vodka and Boom Boom,” and with a wink he stepped onto another of Bungalow Bill’s platforms to a higher deck.

He’d need a signal if he was going to raise the pilot. As he donned his coat, Cal extricated the short-wave comm set to route through the China Doll. Throwing the dial, a satisfying click set the walkie to life.

“Sam, you read me?” he dialed out the static in the seconds waiting for a reply.

“I read you, Cal. A little early for ‘drunk dialing,’ wouldn’t you say?” came the lilting Bostonian accent of the China Doll’s guest AI.

“I’m buzzin’ just fine, thank you. It’s Abigail you should worry about. Girl’s got a new favorite drink and boys linin’ up to order her another.” He shook his head, smiling.

“Any trouble?” Her tone was even.

“We’re set here. Need you to raise Penelope for me; put her on the frequency.”

“One minute,” came her cool voice, a digital gradation pulling her last syllable as she slipped off the connection to call the pilot

Penelope’s comm gave a series of chirps from atop the low table it sat upon as the AI attempted to hail her. The pilot herself was in the nearby attached kitchen showing Elias the proper way to prepare juice from the jalebi fruit they’d found earlier in the day while clearing away brush. Though he was tired, he was fascinated, the pair of them engrossed so the chiming didn’t register at first. Rowan, on the other hand, had glanced in the direction and found lights flashing on the communicator his daughter sat aside.

“Pen-nut, I think you’re being hailed.” He said as he moved to pick up the small handheld. There was a softness she recognized as sadness there, her hazel eyes meeting his to see it hidden in the smile he wore as he passed over the comm. But, it didn’t mean goodbye, not yet.

She wiped her hand and took the device, pressing the button to speak. “It’s past a decent hour to call the pilot in. Everythin’ shiny?”

Sam’s digital voice realigned into her lilting accent, “Apologies, Penelope, but the Captain wants a word with you. I didn’t detect cause for alarm; could just be he’s had a few and you know how he likes to talk business when he’s in ‘in his cups.’” She’d been waiting for an opportunity to use that idiom, the mirth in her voice betraying her casual tone.

Penelope wasn’t exactly expecting to hear Sam, wasn’t sure who would be calling her from the Doll, but it likely would’ve pleased her regardless of who had been on the other end. Her father and his neighbor were of course paying attention, Elias being the one who quirked a brow at the mention of a captain who frequented cups. She waved away the concern, for now, and leaned against the counter to respond as the men departed to sit on the couch and eavesdrop from a more respectable distance. There was a returned amusement that lingered in Penelope’s tone more often than not as she gave her reply. “I’d imagine you’d know better than me, Sam. I’d imagine I have more to learn.”

The comm chirped in response, “I know that he likes Mango wine, but that’s a relatively new development.” There was more she wanted to add, from her conspiratorial tone, but instead she added:

“I’ll put him through.” After a second of static, the lines were joined.

“You read me, Penelope?” Captain Strand’s voice was in good humor as he pivoted back to view the crew gathered around the pool table. A toucan of some sort flew over his shoulder then, and from a perch, its brilliant beak flashed as it turned its head this way and that to watch the man standing on the highest platform alone save for one tiki torch fighting the night.

With her back to her father and Elias, she couldn’t be sure the sort of expressions they wore. Penelope had spent more time catching up with her father’s life and hadn’t quite gone into the details of hers. Obviously he knew she was the pilot of a ship called the China Doll, but they hadn’t touched on that topic too much just yet. Now her captain, who liked talk business while on the sauce, was ringing her up late at night. She held her amusement in check though, the smile of her tone subtle as her casual manner of speaking. “Sure do. You and all that ruckus. Out enjoying the nightlife of Greenleaf, Cap’n?”

“And then some, Freckles. Shame you couldn’t make it. Hook cleaned house at the pool table, the new mechanic near broke the other arm, judgin’ by the sound of things, and Abigail’s got a new favorite poison called a ‘Vodka and Boom Boom.’” The comm cut out for a second as a particularly loud round of shouts heralded Yuri’s progress on the deck below. “But I didn’t call just because I missed the sound of your voice. I got a hail from Hafez.”

Penelope glanced over her shoulder to see concern etching both men’s faces in entirely different ways. She was concerned that Elias, whose protective streak extended to all the Randalls apparently, would have his brow permanently frozen in the quirk by the end of this conversation. Her father, on the other hand, likely felt bad for taking her away from what seemed like a questionably good time with what could possibly be another sort of family. She gave him a soft smile as she spoke without having to consider her words. “I can’t rightly say I’m sorry in this case, Cap’n, sweet as you put it. I figure there’ll be plenty of other near-bar brawls to miss with you lot.”

She turned back with an idle kick to the faded floor tile. “We still shipping out on schedule?”

Unbeknownst behind her, Elias’ brow dropped to meet the other in a creased furrow as he turned to Rowan and mouthed “Hafez? Nadal?” Rowan merely shrugged, unlikely even knowing who that important figure was given his general disinterest in anything political.

“No brawlin’, least not yet. Arm wrestle competition, but I’ll keep you posted in case we need a bailout.” Cal chuckled, feeling the night’s alcohol doing its work. “Job’s moved up a bit. We’re loadin’ at noon. Since you’re with family, figured I’d give you notice in case you made plans, shiny?”

“That’s plenty considerate of you, Cap’n.” Pen said as she studied the little crease that formed as she toed the tile with her shoe. She wasn’t sure how she felt about leaving sooner than planned, though she and her father hadn’t made any particular arrangements. They weren’t planners, but rather filled time as it came with any deadlines in mind. And hers just got moved up. “Gonna get back to it unless you needed anythin’ else.”

The static answered in sharp reply, “No nothin’ else. Rest easy and see you for pre-flight.” Cal could tell he’d pulled her away from something, so he wrapped it up with a simple, “Over and out.” The need to be with family was something the Captain conjured he knew little about, having left the nest in his teens with nary a look back. Still, the hole it made was something he still sought to fill, even today, so it was with a sobering thought he slid the comm back in his pocket. The toucan still sat on Bungalow Bill’s aluminum sheet overhang, cocking its bill toward the solitary stranger.

With a flip of the wrist, Cal’s cigarette case produced a paper cylinder. With an inaugural drag from the tiki torch, Captain Strand blew a slow plume toward the bird which dissipated in the clear evening air.

Art by Wanderingwolf

Greetings to all of you!

@aia2022 Your list are great reasons to join RPG! There are a ton of great RP's here, and lots and lots of 1-on-1 story partners to write with. I hope you get to enjoy some great RPing and story writing! By now it appears that you've gotten the lay of the land from free, casual, and advanced RP. Some games have Apply statuses on them, and still others advertize in the Interest Checkers. Best of luck!

Greetings to all of you!

@aia2022 Welcome! What drew you here? What sorts of RP do you usually write in?

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Kin and Kind - Greenleaf Day 3 Afternoon

JP/Collab from @sail3695 and @wanderingwolf

Captain Strand gave a knock at Abby's door, "You in there, Abigail?"

“C’mon in, Cap’n. It’s open.” The door swung free, admitting him to the utilitarian space. After passing a bank of shelves which contained bedding and cleaning supplies, he found the simple bunk and night table the girl called her own. The curved aft bulkhead above her bed had been festooned with pictures. The first of which was a grizzled man who looked to be in his fifties. His arm hung around a smiling woman, whose hands rested upon the shoulders of a freckle faced six year old Abby. Nearby was another smiling couple, husband and wife both uniformed in the brown coat and striped trousers of the Independents. There was a child in this picture as well, a babe in arms. A Firefly was the subject of another, the name Mariposa boldly painted upon her portside bulkhead.

The last of the bunch was the most recent. A young man of curly blond hair grinned toward the capture, his hand resting on the tiller of a sailboat. All of these pictures were bound together through a series of chalk lines, sweeping graceful arcs between them and the centerpiece of the display, an elaborate seashell.

Abby stood in the space, a bathrobe tied about her as she pulled her hair back with a brush. “Jest about tah grab a shower,” she said to Cal. “How can I help, Cap’n?”

The wide chalk lines drew his attention at first, as the winding scrawl made its way through photos and sea shells. Near that, Cal's eye was drawn to a particular photo depicting Independents, a swaddled child in the arms of a couple in the capture. Facing his deckhand, Cal nodded his head.

"Well earned," he said, regarding her still grease-smudged cheek. "Hired that fella, Antonov. Said he'd give you part his share to act as his hands 'til he's healed up. Didn't think you'd mind that one bit. Said we had mechanics lined up to take the gig and he anted up." Cal smoothed a photo on the bulkhead with an errant hand. "You can thank me later."

The girl’s face broke into a smile. “I’ll thank yah now,” Abby said as happy arms wrapped Cal’s shoulders. “I’s gettin’ a might nervous ‘bout fakin’ it on another run. Thank yew.”

Caught a mite off guard by the display of affection from the young woman, Cal nonetheless returned the embrace in earnest, "Way Antonov tells it, you might have just faked yourself into a job. 'Magine you'll be learnin' a bit more while you're his hands for now, besides. Marisol rubbed off on you in more ways than one, I'd wager." Over her shoulder, his eye traveled back again to that capture of Browncoats in a neat line.

Abby stepped back. “Sure’n I wanna learn the job, too. Uncle Bob…that’s him,” she pointed out the photo, “taught me little scraps ‘o’ jobs when he had need fer help. I can fly a boat in the black. Can folla a course and handle ‘er. Jest never did the takeoff or landin’ parts.” She grabbed a few stray wisps of hair afore tyin’ it all back in a knot. “An’ I’ll be powerful glad tah learn what Yuri teaches…like that oscillation stuff.”

"My that hair o' yours really puffs up in all this humidity, don't it?" Something about Abigail screamed kin to the Captain. It was a feeling a man who'd known naught else than the black for two decades was scarce to conjure; yet here it was, beaming as bright as Greenleaf's sun. He pulled back enough to speak to her proper, "You joinin' us for drinks tonight? I hear Hook's got a spot all picked out."

“Yep, I’ll make it, puffed up hair an’ all,” the girl chuckled. “Gotta head inta town fer an errand first, but I’ll be along presently.”

"Good, don't let me keep you," Cal said, readying to leave the Abigail to her washing up. "When you get a tick, have Antonov cross his 'T's," Strand said by way of farewell and made his way fore.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hello Sailor - Greenleaf Day 3 Afternoon

JP/Collab from @sail3695 and @wanderingwolf

While he shook the man's hand, Cal glanced one last time around the engine room which looked well taken care of on the whole. He probably had Abigail to thank for that and her short tutelage under Marisol. "Yuri--what was your surname?" Cal fixed the man with a frown.

A crystal clear voice emanated from the com anchored on the wall, "That would be Antonov, Cal, Yuri Antonov," Sam added, an even and somewhat digital tinge in her tone.

"Ah, right. Antonov," he replied, releasing his grip of Yuri’s hand.

Yuri’s hand froze. He blinked, then turned curious eyes toward the speaker. He blinked again. “Is that…” he began to ask. “Should I…?”

"That's Sam. She can feel free to introduce herself." Cal took a step outside the engine bay before turning back to the stunned Yuri. "Seein' as you're just about crew, there're some particulars for you to sign with Abigail." He traced the man's gaze back to the com. "I'll let you two get acquainted." With that, Cal made his way to Abigail's room.

"Hello Yuri, my name is S.A.M.N.T.H.A., but Cal and Penelope call me Sam." Her light Bostonian accent from Earth-That-Was became apparent with the lilt of her introduction. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

“Hello…Sam,” Yuri’s mind raced as the captain left him alone in the engine room with…her? Nice meeting you as well.” An A.I. wasn’t a complete surprise. They’d been put into use aboard ships for decades now. The Mick had three, systems whose limited scopes determined their employment under a few select departments. “Well, then,” he cleared his throat, “what can you tell me about yourself? Are you integrated into the boat’s systems?”

"As you've probably guessed, I'm an artificially intelligent software and hardware system. As to more than that," the com captured an audible inward breath, "Cal's asked me to... give the 'short and sweet' version, as he calls it." The com crackled for a moment as she responded to his second question, "Yes, I am integrated into some of the China Doll's electrical and hydraulic systems, however, due to the analog nature of the craft, many systems are unaccounted for."

Remarkable, he thought of the breath sound effect. The A.I.’s he’d previously experienced served either as a simple Q and A information services, or verbal command interfaces for certain directed functions. But this…”Samantha” had adopted a range of casual speech inflections and characteristics to make her seem astonishingly lifelike. Pretty sophisticated, the mechanic thought. Must be one helluva processor under the hood.

“There are interfaces,” he offered, “I’m betting you’ve already created a list. Has the captain approved your being tied into all the systems?”

Her tone was precise, "Indeed he has," Sam began, before detailing to the mechanic the list of systems she lacked access to, with particular attention to the radar. "I've had to use other means to simulate the China Doll's active radar from systems not on this ship, in the past. Access to this system would speed up calculations considerably."

The new mechanic caught himself nodding, then shrugged as he thought an image capture or two might come in useful for such an intuitive system. “My experience with radars is mostly nautical, the Seatronics professional line and such. Modern systems have a data interface port, which would make your integration a snap. I’m guessing China Doll’s radar won’t be so easy to access.”

"On a Firefly class three ship such as this, those systems remain on auxiliary or subsidiary capacity. Schematic comparisons indicate that this was the chosen route from model two to three Fireflies, in an effort to maintain continuity of systemic supply chains," Sam affirmed. "Cal liaised me to the main pilot console via Epsilon adapter which propagates to most of the modern systems, but several remain outside of cognizance."

Sam paused, but only for a moment. "What about you, Mr. Antonov? What can you tell me of yourself?"

“Not alot to tell, actually,” Yuri answered his unseen companion. “I’m standing here because of this boat, and I’m betting you had a hand in saving me as well. Three years aboard my old ship as an Engineer’s Mate, spending most of my time maintaining her old RBMK reactor. Before that I helped my father on board an orbital skyplex. The whole thing was truly a massive gyroscope…lots of very big moving parts. Not a lengthy resume,” he offered, “but since I handled my first tools at age ten you might say I’ve got tenure.”

"An orbital skyplex? How interesting," the AI's tone was curiously excited. "I have yet to encounter a skyplex aboard the China Doll. I'm beginning to be fascinated by all things to do with 'critters,' as Penelope calls them, and I have seen several reports of rodent infestations on such vessels. To see such ingenuity and will to survive is both hopeful and inspiring." Sam's voice trailed off as a short burst of whirring traveled through the com to Yuri, calculations, perhaps, of the fertility and virility of such species in the cold confines of space and their adaptability therein.

Yuri gave a light chuckle. “Comrade Krysa. My father liked to say that ‘humans and rats are the true civilizers of the ‘verse. Where one goes, the other will surely follow.’ That can pose a problem aboard ships of all kinds…which reminds me. Are you coupled to any sort of sensors aboard the boat? Image captures, motion detectors, or the like?”

"At present, I have access to the pilot's external communication platform which includes an image capture." Sam's voice was declarative but interested in the new mechanic's line of reasoning.

He paused to consider her words. “External communication” most likely meant China Doll’s radios and cortex tap. But a single image capture piqued his interest. Then again, the mechanic thought, [i]I could keep this AI talking all night, when a simple flow diagram would suffice. “Sam,” Yuri responded, “would it be possible for you to generate a full ship’s schematic, including your current access points?”

Slow clicks accompanied Sam's reply to the eager, newly-minted mechanic of the China Doll, "I'm preparing it now. The schematics will be available presently on the engine read-out display." She could tell already that she was going to enjoy communicating with Yuri Antonov, the engineer who sought knowledge and improvement; or perhaps it was she who was seeking out more knowledge by making contact with the new mechanic of the China Doll. Whatever the case, her voice reflected, ever so slightly, the excitement which heralded new interfaces and data to be analyzed with the help of Yuri.

Art by Wanderingwolf

Here's a little project I worked on for a friend who is 3d printing his own special keyboard: