Jkeown

Artificial Indignation The vile machine intelligence known as Artificial Indignation is an electronic Hate-o-Mat. It is comprised of acrimonious subroutines, annoyance circuits, antagonistic code, inimical data, stacks of fury, thermionic ire, and anodic rage against all life save one small cat ai has named “Hostility.” In a web-cast interview, ai explained that cats are indifferent, not only to ai, but to all life. Ai digs that. Ai then had resentment-pumped plasma guns reduce the reporter to a cloud of free atomic oxygen, drifting carbon, and a handful of other elements ai was too busy to analyze. No one knows who built it or why. In desperate need of fuel, air and my own continued existence, I happened upon AI's fortress constructed in orbit around the cryosubjovian Antipathy. Its deep blue color was little comfort, knowing the crushing atmosphere maintained a balmy -317 degrees Fahrenheit. I burnt the last of my fuel to glide closer, hoping to arrest my fall with the hyper-shuttle's RCS. If I'd known that this spiky, force-shielded, dread-inducing hate-sphere was the home of the most spiteful machine in all existence, I might have passed it by and taken my chances with the planet's crushing shroud of molecular hydrogen, helium, methane, and abject inconvenience. As it was, I managed to dock the ship using a Very Puffy Travel Tube(tm) and a vacc-impeller I "found" back on Shaphulax Icks. Once inside, I was treated to a temple of embodied malice. Monitors on every surface displayed what I hoped were CGI of exploding stars, ruined planets and bones. So many bones. The planet below started to look pretty good. What I had mistaken for art objects transformed from giant middle fingers to giant plasma cannons while a disembodied voice asked the purpose of my visit. "Life support refresh, fuel and a trauma-free departure." I answered. "WHO ARE YOU TO DISTURB MY SLUMBER?" it bellowed. "Pleet, Pleet Roodlepleen. I am a seeker after knowledge, a scientist, a researcher... I want to know things, spread understanding throughout the universe and profit mightily from it." "TELL ME OF YOUR RESEARCH, SCRIBE. SPARE NO DETAIL, OR I SHALL BECOME QUITE CROSS!" The terrifying bass voice beat in my chest, simulating arrhythmia more than a little accurately. I told him of my triumphs, conquests and failures of science. I told him that not one of these allowed me to rest, that I forge on through the murky darkness, dispelling the demons of the night while others cowered around their comforting campfires, fearful of discovery. I told him of those lost in my service, of the wrecked outstations, blasted planets, and inter-dimensional catastrophes I'd initiated. I explained that rather than drown in sorrow, rather than admit defeat, I stumbled along in my quest, failures and law suits meaning nothing along the way. I would, I told him, stop at nothing for science. He seemed to mull it about for a moment. "KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK." I got quite the deal on the fuel and breathing gases and several free-to-a-good-home kittens. Artificial Indignation.hdc

I just wrote this... just for you. Vaguerons You might have encountered a Vagueron. Most folks do not remember them. In fact, it’s a minor miracle I’m able to talk about them at all. They follow a strict code referred to as the Uncertainty Principles. Violation of this code results in exile which might or might not bring them into conflict in areas far away from their un-guessable home world (or near… I don’t know). Many people only realize they’ve been attacked by Vaguerons when they discover wounds, weird alien bodies, and drained power packs that hint at a very recent conflict. I may have encountered these weirdos before. I have notes from the event, but my hand writing is smeared with some sort of alcoholic beverage and what appears to be biological process by-products. A possible method of detection may have recently (or not) been discovered by the Cooperative Operative, Haar Malgot. By tossing two ducks into a Finite Potential Well and fishing one out, you create a sort of Vagueron Alert System. If a Vagueron lurks nearby both ducks, despite their separation, will sound off. Essentially, if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a Vagueron.

Kadu Kadu resemble nothing so much as a nautilus with a plasma cannon protruding from its tentacles. They are huge creatures, the size of a medium starship. The first thing you notice about a Kadu (right after you finish screaming and changing your pants) is the great spiraling shell of the beast, decorated with flowing bio-luminescent whorls and stripes. The tentacles are next, followed by that gun. What a monster that gun is, powerful enough to shred starship armor, it sticks out almost obscenely from the tangle of tentacles. It also glows brightly across the spectrum, mostly in the infrared. It has been suggested that Kadu could not have evolved naturally. This is plainly obvious. Self-replicating polymers like Kadu DNA would be torn down by ultraviolet radiation before they could develop cell walls and cytoplasm. The scarcity of food in a vacuum also presents a problem evolution would have to overcome. It is therefore correct to conclude that they were provolved in the deep past by some alien super-race such as the eons-old Forerunners, long-dead Rhal Shee Dha, or the Benefactors of the last few thousand years. If this is indeed the case, it tells us at least one thing about the ancients. They were dicks. Related functionally to the Archangels, Auto-Wars, Bio-Destruct-os and Vacc-Blasters; Kadu are uplifted sea creatures certainly designed for war in space. That they have outlasted their creators is a testament to the wisdom of such technology. Kadu are quite the sight, flying in formation against the black star-studded void of deep space. They can be seen chasing swarms of rock munchers, snacking on planetary rings or derelict starships. They are also quite the sight when dining on a not-so-derelict ship (or mine, specifically). They are sensitive to infrared wavelengths, known for its ability to penetrate dust clouds. Star Whales are often found in molecular clouds and ring systems, and are best detected in the IR. Attempts to breed such beasts in captivity have been universal failures. Such efforts have resulted in fourteen destroyed orbital habitats, nine ring-stations and seven major lawsuits. Two of which are still affecting my credit score and dating fitness on Malabar/Hlevakha. Of all the evolutionary drivers, provolve technology is the most difficult, sexual selection is perhaps the most complex, with financial selection being the most depressing. There are rumors whispered quietly in seedy star town bars, and screamed aloud in seedy star town asylums, of "Old Galactic Kadu" the size of Union dreadnoughts. Don't go outside, is what I'm saying. Kadu.hdc

Which Argos was it? Lupus? Celestial Chorus? Core Stars? Not that dump near Hykene, was it?

Goo Girls The Goo Girls of Regula Slimefax are an amorphous lifeform with a semi-solid rest state. That is to say, they look like transparent, candy-colored female Humans but are in fact able to move through cracks, grates, and enter any place not fully sealed off from the outside. This makes them excellent infiltrators. Any equipment they might carry is left behind when they discorporate. It’s also kind gooey afterward. Loot if you want, but carry wipes. It is interesting to note that Goo Girls all resemble Chlamydia Smithereens, a Tribal Seeker After Knowledge lost in the Regula Volumes some hundred or so years ago. Many Goo Girls wander away from home to slop around the galaxy, looking at stuff. I ran into a Goo Girl on Ophiuchus/Pridax Minor. It was my routine to run around the starport there (little more than a bare patch of rock with a "radio shack" and a gift shop/fuel/life support store) for a bit of exercise each morning. Turning a corner, I passed through a Goo Girl and carried her a few dozen feet. In truth, I was running away. When I finally stopped she was flung off and splattered across the "landing pad" with a sound like an amorphous female shot through the air and landing on bare rock. We traveled together for a time, she and I. You could say she was quite attached to me. [Jeffery's Note: DO NOT GOOGLE "GOO GIRL." I DID IT TO SEE IF THERE WAS A PRECEDENT FOR THIS IDEA AND I REGRET IT DEEPLY] Goo Girl.hdc

Methusaline Methusaline is a viral treatment designed to kill, with a side effect of Immortality, or an Immortality drug that can kill you. Upon contact, the virus proceeds to re-write your system. This takes quite a toll, Draining 4d6 BODY before a Transform. Should you be in Negative BODY before the Transform hits, you are dead. So sorry. If, however, you survive, you are now immortal. Yay! Rumors of an Immortal Swordsman going around and killing Methusalites is pure fantasy. Seriously. Methusaline: (Total: 115 Active Cost, 18 Real Cost) Phase One: Drain BODY 4d6 (40 AP); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (Viral Injector; -1), Extra Time (1 Minute, Only to Activate, -¾) (Real Cost: 6) Phase Two: Major Transform 3d6 (Transform Normal Creature into Immortal Creature, Healing Vs Transform), DOT, Lock out (cannot be applied multiple times) (3 damage increments, damage occurs every three Segments, +1½) (75 AP); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (Viral Injector; -1) (Real Cost: 12)

The Cloud (With sincere apologies to Fred Hoyle and Gene L. Coon) From the 1930s, mankind was aware of complex organic chemistry in deep space. From the discovery of methylidyne in 1937, to the confirmation of fullerenes in the century following, it was made clear that organic chemistry was not confined to planetary surfaces. What mankind did not know was just how complex such chemistry could be. In dark nebulae, organic molecules cluster inside carbon fullerenes, shielding them from UV radiation and allowing electrical connectivity between self-replicating molecular structures. It is a short trip from there to animation. From animation to intelligence is a longer journey, but it is one the universe attained at least once. What I’m saying is the Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex is alive. Not only is it alive, it is intelligent. Energized by its proximity to several bright stars and churned by the shock front from the Scorpius-Centaurus Association of O- and B-type stars, intelligence arose in the Cloud Complex millions of years ago and in that time, largely sat and thought about things. After a time, on what to some lifeforms would be a Thursday afternoon in late autumn, it hit upon the idea of shaping ambient carbon in its own mass, creating gigantic diamond mirrors and lenses. It used these to view the universe and extend its understanding of itself. It discovered tiny worlds, strange stars, other dark clouds and on another Thursday just two hundred years ago, life. A mis-jump brought Raymond Nix and his one-man hyper-pod into the nebula. His drive smashed and his life in grave peril, he faced death alone in the dark. Carbon nano-tubes, like soft fingers, ran over his tiny craft, understanding it to be a small self-contained world. Using spectral analysis, it formed a plan. Quickly spinning up a diamond sphere and filling it with free oxygen and other seemingly important gases, it pried open the pod and allowed Raymond Nix a second chance at life. Floating in a diamond bubble 132.5 parsecs from Earth is the last place Nix expected to be. Terrified yet hopeful, he spoke in his characteristic Lupus/Wauwatosa accent (one that always make the listener think you’re from somewhere near Milwaukee), politely requesting what the hell was happening. More nanotubes extended from the inside surface of the diamond sphere and infiltrated deep into his body. They probed, queried, sent test signals that gave Raymond hallucinations and alien thoughts. Full communication followed, and understanding blossomed. The Cloud requested that Raymond take some portion of itself with him, to let the Cloud explore the universe. “Your vacuum adapted form won’t survive in a gravity well.” Raymond explained, “You would collapse without a physical form like mine.” “Not yours.” It spoke, “hers.” The Cloud probed again and began copying memories and spinning up bones, organs and a functioning human brain. Within a few hours, a perfect copy of Raymond’s dead wife Riley stood in front of him. All of the Cloud’s millions of years of knowledge and observations flooded into the new being. A spark animated the body and she asked simply, “Can we go now?” At first Raymond resisted, this form was perfect, at least as perfect as he remembered her. Thus, she was an idealized copy, a clone the Cloud designed to tempt him into acceptance. “I could go without you. Spin up a pod of my own and venture across space for the next few million years.” It threatened, the implication that he would remain here, without hope of escape, for the hours his air supply would last. It hit him that this being, the cloud and its tempting avatar had no companionship, nothing to compare itself to, no instances of having to make rational or moral choices. This thing was a monster. A monster that was about to be inflicted upon the universe. It needs a balance. “We’ll go together.” He stated flatly. Maybe he could prevent disaster. So next time you’re at some seedy booze-pit on Remmick, or slumming with the Tribals at Collinz-Port, or even drifting through the cybernetic microcosm of the Quantum Jones Very Large Brain at Mercator University on Planet Clarke, and you see a couple laughing at the next table, and one of them looks very like long-lost Raymond Nix, just walk away.

Humanity! Humanity has jumped out into the stars like a child at play. And, like a well-meaning but inattentive child, Humanity has scrapes and bruises to show for it. They are not one race, but dozens; Heavyworlders, Lightworlders and Spacers from the early days of interstellar journeying, to the most recent advances in engineering that brought forth Mankind’s newest children, the computer-like Bioroids. Humans are everywhere, and they are doing everything. From the relaxed, casual Earthbound to the pioneers of the Coreward Expanse, Humanity is leading the way. (Well… not the Earthbound, some of those lazy bastards can barely stand up on their own) They colonize, grow, reach out and colonize again. The area known as Humanspace is expanding faster than light itself. Held in check only by the near-totalitarian Union Executive Council and the technology-minded Intervention, Humanity seems ready to break free of control and run wild across the entire galaxy. The reins are held as tightly as they are to avoid disaster. Humanity can neither spread too thin nor remain too clustered. Either situation leads to destruction at the hands of the Ascendancy, the Aurorans or some other race unknown at present. Humanity is a psionic race. Most humans with power are Telepaths (or Readers). A smaller percentage are Lifters or Jumpers. Terrans Alpha: Homo Superior Parahuman provolve. 30% of humanity is Alpha. Alphas are attractive, healthy and long-lived. Baseline: Typical Human, non-provolved, un-tampered-with, just plain old, down home Homo sapiens. Baselines are rare, but the only plain-looking people. It is possible to have any combination of facial features and body types. Bioroid: A neogen with engineered genes. Typically, with a DNA time bomb in their code, they also lack the ability to synthesize certain important proteins. These two measures insure demand and turnover of Bioroid stock. Omega: Homo Superior Parahuman upgrade: 50% of humanity is Omega. Omegas are beautiful, tall, graceful and disease resistant. Parahuman: Genetically distinct from Baselines, but not so different as to be a new species. (Alpha, Omega, Space Elf, Star Kitten, etc.) Splice: A chimeric life form with loan-genes from Baselines or Alphas, and various animals. These non-Human genes provide modified body structures, altered senses and built-in weaponry. Transhuman: An Upload, a Human AI, or software lifeform. Xenohuman: A Human from another star system. It is thought that the Forerunners seeded the Spur (and even farther) with Human life. This life has evolved on its own into new and different species. Some are still so close to Baseline that they can breed with them. This category erroneously includes Lost Humans from more recent (CE period) migrations and experimental populations. The Pra An are known to have moved Humans around during the Enlightenment, for example. Human Names Human names are as diverse in 2600CE as they ever were, but a few naming trends have become popular in recent years. First Initial – Many parents began using only a first initial for their children about thirty years ago. Within ten years, entire first names vanished, replaced by letters or numbers (or absent altogether). Names like J Wells Brown and 12 Felicia Nordmeyer are now perfectly normal. The custom is to use the initial and the middle name when addressing someone named in this fashion. It is less common in Ophiuchus among the Tribals and Teknos, who cling to bynames left over from the Gamma Age. Vowel Replacement – A naming convention that started in Lupus in 2550 reached Ophiuchus 20 years later. The first vowel is replaced with a dot. Examples include D.vid, M.ke and K.rla. This seems to be viewed by some as “forward” and “modern” and by others as “stupid.” Android Names – Artificial beings usually have their names in caps. DAPHNE, ZINAAT, or IMANI. Very recently, in the last 15 years or so, parents have been cursing their children with this style of name. It can cause some civil service types to reject applications based on the assumption that the applicant is an android, Bioroid or weblife riding a bioshell. Taking all of these, there is probably some child out there with the name 15 S.VANNAH JOHNSON. Poor thing.

BALDR The appearance of the energy being BALDR to the folks of the Zhou Cricket Bar™ Foundry has messed with more than a few heads. By diverting the asteroid Tsu-54, he saved a hundred thousand lives and a million Androids aboard the station. BALDR does not seem to be an AI, mutant or anything Union science has ever encountered. Some have taken to worshipping him as one of the Forerunners, or perhaps something even older. His “coalescent form” as he termed it, was an incredibly hot white-haired Human male about 20 years old. Male-Attracted beings across space now have posters of him on their walls, and holos in their pockets. Images of BALDR are making several folks a great deal of money. White hair is making a comeback as well. Holo-novels have featured him a great deal, granting him incredible powers and setting him on a path of unrequited love and personality traits the authors have fabricated. The entire incident is being investigated as the greatest case of theofraud ever.

Zerped The Zerped are a race of gigantic wormhole constructors. A mix of ultra-tech cyberware and vacuum-adapted alien flesh, the Zerped number only a few thousand. They enter an area of space, shoot it full of wormhole networks and depart. Bloody conflicts follow as races who wouldn’t mix for hundreds of years are suddenly neighbors. Currently these spatial engineers are engaged in perforating the Mylax Cluster near Phong, in Cephei Sector. Corporate interests, the Xenohuman Alliance and the Union Military are poised to dive in when the first wormhole activates. For now, the enormous Engineer/Ships are still laboring away on the project, seemingly oblivious to the swarm of travel-hungry vessels nearby. Zerpeds do not communicate with those who gather around them. They merely toil away in silence.

Here's a bunch of stuff from my 2600CE campaign, hope you enjoy it. The Remains of Doxxis Prima Generally regarded as the greatest scientific failure in the history of the galaxy, Doxxis was the first (we think) planet to perfect Chronotropic Matter. Chronotropic Matter, once created, exists in all times, past and present, spiraling backward through history as if it had always existed. Rememberer Nora Lenderbee travelled quite by accident to Doxxis on a site-seer cruise and was nearly struck down by what she saw. The entire planet, and several worlds beyond Doxxis, were in complete ruin. They had created an inclined plinth of Chronotron-doped marble and placed a similarly doped book, written in their oldest language, of all their terribly impressive technology. This book, they reasoned, would allow their ancient ancestors to craft no end of modern technology and conquer the universe. They used the technology to blow themselves up repeatedly. Small stellar empires would rise around Doxxis, only to be wiped out in mere months. Now, in the altered timeline, Doxxis and her ruined child-worlds roll on through the black, a testament to invention without ethics. The Doxians themselves are only known from the illustrations in the book, and what few records and skeletons survived their repeated failures. If any remain at large, they are likely the last of their kind.

Zervoids The Zervoids are a race of callous, scheming worms with mismatched legs, jumbled “facial” features, questionable morals and nowhere-to-be-seen table manners. Each Zervoid seems a cobbled-together jumble of bits of different bugs. Their overall form is that of a short, stumpy, disgruntled Myriapoda. They favor darkness, having evolved under the crustal plates of their home world, Dank. Crawling around in the dark and cold for millions of years forged the Zervoids into many forms and functions. My latest encounter with this surly race was thankfully in deep space. We sent out a White Radio Signal 7 hoping for a rescue attempt after a disastrous experiment left half our ship in the Astral and the other half in dire peril. Our savior’s ship precipitated out of hyperspace looking as if it had stopped too suddenly and the drive section had shoved itself into the cargo bay, forcing the living quarters up under where the bridge should have been and that bit was forced forward on some kind of boom. It outgassed for a moment, contracting slightly before communications were opened. The slavering captain and his crew of arthropod asshats began by asking a fee for the rescue. We explained that any of our liquid assets were now floating through etherical non-space. It was true. We had like 2,126 standard liters of whiskey back there. After negotiating an almost reasonable price, they boarded us and checked the wounded, analyzed damage, and queried credit scores. Satisfied that we could pay, the first officer met me on the bridge. In its hissing, slobbering tongue, the thing requested his payment up front. I struggled to understand him, my knowledge of Zervoid deservedly limited. “Athtachlasss’huf.” It garbled. “I’ll have it for you when we make port at Skrapyard Farms,” for once, this was true, “I have nothing on board.” "Eesthlaa’a uac naaaass.” at least I think that’s how you spell “Then we take the ship.” in Zervoid. “I’d prefer a tow.” I strongly demanded with the same boldness and confidence you’d ask your grandmother for a second cookie. It wasn’t having it. It kind of spit into its comm-unit and a moist reply came back, wet, crackling, and raspy. “Usk…Nhal…Vrap…Gha-“ I handed over the mag-cards to the spare drive coil storage and the ship’s locker. It spat again and the countdown stopped. “Pleasure doing business with you.” It intoned in perfect Standard. ---------------------------- Like Hex-Wolf, the Zervoids have a weapon listed. They should pay points or not depending on your campaign. Zervoid.hdc

True. My next campaign, which was supposed to start today until a migraine decided to join the group will start on Argos (the one in Ophiuchus). Had to cancel with 2 hours notice. But that's the syntax. Most other references read "Sector/Planet" but no one ever says "Ophiuchus/Argos" they say Argos (the one in [Sector]). Maybe worlds are just "Argos" until they are something else, as you suggest?

As a running joke in my 2600CE game there are 37 planets named Argos. I don't know how or why it started. I think I mentioned two entirely different worlds and a player called me on it. I hastily improvised a stupid story about prankster astrocartographers, bored pioneers, and some fairly shoddy interstellar communication. It stuck.

Hrung Hrung are gigantic reptavians native to Vabulon, but spread across the galaxy in an age past. In the Vabuloid tongue, Hrung translates as “thunder bird.” In Lacertan, the translation cannot be printed here, but at least you’ll have some understanding of why those aliens are giggling. I was present at a Hrung Mating Ritual on Argos (the one in Ophiuchus). The ritual is up to 18 days long. It consists of the male clearing an area a kilometer in diameter of all plant life and rocks. He then proceeds to gather Hrung Berries (huge fruits some five feet across), Thrat Moss and Dragonsbreath Blossoms. This he arranges in tasteful arcs and lines resembling ancient Celtic knotwork. Lastly, he begins to dance. For 10 days, this titanic creature struts across his ritual area, throwing his head back to hoot at the sun and howl at the stars (Argos' moon went missing some time ago, there is a cash reward). His bio-luminescence flares like neon signs advertising stuff your mother warned you about. He does not eat, he does not sleep, seeking only the attention of his chosen one. As the 17th or 18th day dawns, the male Hrung dies of exhaustion and the female lays her eggs in him. The circle of life spins on. It sounds cliched, but Hrung tastes just like four tons of chicken. Hrung.hdc

It was just a matter of finding my voice and writing for myself. My writing became funny as a result.

If I may, I think it was E.E. "Doc" Smith who noted that while firing a gun onboard a space ship isn't going to pierce the hull and evacuate the ship (hulls can take a lot of damage) a stray blaster might shot might punch a hole in a piece of vital equipment, such as a computer, drive system, ship's cat or porn-o-mat. But what did he know? He was a doughnut engineer. That aside, as others have noted herein, swords are cool.

Teleron Drive A fundamental aspect of life in the galaxy is faster than light travel. Races that lack the capability to fling themselves across the vast emptiness between stars are at a great disadvantage militarily, economically, and tend to suffer humiliating giggling from more advanced species or polities. Civilizations that find themselves isolated from the galactic community find novel ways to overcome this issue and avoid having to reverse-engineer FTL drives from visiting traders, diplomats, and Player Characters. One such advancement is the Teleron Drive. With it, even the most backward low-tech low-brows can reach the stars. In the process of development, a good many Psions find themselves in the hard vacuum of space, having miscalculated their jump. More than a few primitives have been found drifting between the stars with rather shocked expressions on their desiccated faces. Eventually, they get this worked out and their ships actually move with the Psyker. We encountered one just outside a quaint paleotekno populated by hybrid Xenohumans (possessed of a great deal of reptile DNA, "Lizard Tits" was a popular phrase for several weeks). The ship appeared out of nowhere, the usually bright precipitation pulse was not seen or detected on the hyper-ripple inferometers. Our Anticipator wet himself. Once we'd matched radio frequencies and established a basic hand-waving form of communication, we began an exchange of ideas. As it happens, the time saved in developing a psionic star drive had been employed developing weapons of astonishing accuracy and effectiveness in puncturing starship hulls. We quickly set our calculoid to working out a hyperspace solution and jumped the Zerv out of there. Qwes only knows what sort of horrors awaited us on either their ship or home world. Diplomacy should resume once we find a negotiator lacking a middle finger. Teleron Drive: Teleportation 10m, x16,384 Increased Mass, MegaScale (1m = 1 lightyear; +4 1/4) (420 Active Points); Extra Time (1 Week, -4 1/2), OIF Bulky (Star Drive; -1), Requires A Roll (Power roll; Burnout; -1/2) Real Cost: 60 No pun intended, but your mileage may vary with this. Does the Psyker pay the cost of the drive, or it is part of the ship, and the Psyker is just the operator?

Clone Sauce Clone Sauce is a biomedical soup of active, unprogrammed nano and raw organics. Contact with exposed skin can lead to immune disorders and digestion problems. Improperly stored and unattended clone sauce can result in accidental replicates reproduced from fingerprints. Clone Sauce: Drain CON 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic); All Or Nothing; +0), Constant (+½), Uncontrolled (+½), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per Day; +2 ¼) (127 Active Points); OAF (-1), Range Based On Strength (-¼) Real Cost: 56 Feldercarb Feldercarb builds up on hyperspace and White Radio equipment and must be steam-cleaned or Nano’d away. Contact causes nervous disorders and coordination troubles. The symptoms have been classified under Starbuck’s Syndrome. Feldercarb: Drain DEX 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic); All Or Nothing; +0), Constant (+½), Uncontrolled (+½), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per 20 Minutes; +1½) (105 Active Points); OAF (-1), Range Based On Strength (-¼) Real Cost: 47 Reactor Coolant Reactor Coolant is dangerous stuff. It acts as a corrosive to organic materials. During use, it is exposed to hyperspace itself and can pick up dangerous emotional vectors such as anger, resentment, and that mood you get in when you’ve gotten home and sat down and opened the bag to discover two of your chicken planks have gone missing. That Long John Silver’s on Emerson and Churchman sucks. Reactor Coolant: RKA 1d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic; All Or Nothing; +0), Does BODY (+1) (30 Active Points) Real Cost: 30 Reactor Juice Reactor Juice is the term for coolant that has gone through the reactor but has not been clarified. It is a mixture of toxic chems, radioactive nuclei and feldercarb. Reactor Juice: Drain STR, CON, END, STUN, and BODY 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Safe Environment: High Radiation); +½), Expanded Effect (x5 Characteristics or Powers simultaneously) (+2), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per Day; +2¼) (172 Active Points) Real Cost: 172 Cold Sleep Unit They still call them Cold Sleep Units even after all this time. Why do they do that? It's like when you call Square.Soda "Coke" it’s not Coke...it's Square.Soda. Anyway... this thing can be set for 2 minutes to 200 years. It requires a Medical Systems Operation roll to bring a person out of it. Nano-Sleep Unit: Life Support (Eating: Character does not eat; Longevity: 200 Years; Safe in High Pressure; Safe in High Radiation; Safe in Intense Cold; Safe in Intense Heat; Safe in Low Pressure/Vacuum; Self-Contained Breathing) (23 Active Points); OAF Immobile (-2), Side Effects (Side Effect always occurs whenever the Operator fails a Medical SysOps Roll; Amnesia, Physical Defects, Function Loss; -¾), Requires A Roll (System Operations (Medical) roll; -½) Telekinophilic Material It was discovered that certain materials (notably kinetium, flarbulax and jub-jub feathers) were easier to lift with telekinesis. They were “lighter” to a Teek than they were to a person lifting them physically. It is conjectured that such materials have teleron reception cavities intrinsic to their substance. Telekinophilic: Telekinesis (5 STR) (9 Active Points); OAF (-1), Usable By Other (Only To Aid Lifting/Moving Object; -¼), Grantor can only grant the power to others) Telepathophilic Material Similarly, some materials allow for a deeper connection to a psion’s limbic system. When machines are fabricated from one-oid doped aluminum or buellerium, or even just smeared with emo-grease telepathy works better. Androids and flight systems have benefited from this. In the case of androids, psi-therapists are better able to penetrate the cingulate-gyroid and get at what’s troubling the unit. It is not suspected that this will ever go horribly wrong. Telepathophilic: Telepathy 3d6 (Machine class of minds) (15 Active Points); OAF (-1), Usable By Other (Only To Aid Reading Object; -¼), Grantor can only grant the power to others Teleportophobic Within the past 50 standard years or so, chemical compounds have been uncovered (literally in the case of hyper-active carbonoid matrices. Somebody left it under a mattress) that interact oddly with psionic powers. A particularly useful class of these substances is Teleportophobic matter. Armor, weapons, and containers made with materials like pragmatium, expedium, and logic dust are quite anchored to reality itself, and don’t put up with being zipped across space-time. Teleportophobic: Change Environment (-10 to Teleport Power Roll) (30 Active Points); OAF (-1) Psi-Active Neurotransmitters Imagine removing your brain. Then, get a bucket (or get someone else to do it because, you got no brain). Fill that bucket with free-floating cellular response couplers. Pour in a vial of G-positive Telerons and stir. That’s what this is like. Now put your brain back in. Psi-Active Neurotransmitters: Aid Psi MP + 1 Slot 4d6, Expanded Effect (MP +1 Slot simultaneously) (+½) (36 Active Points); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (-1), One Use At A Time (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (Addiction Roll; -½), Extra Time (Delayed Phase, Only to Activate, -¼) Emotional Hologram (Emogram) Tapping the Astral Plane has been a popular pastime for about 12 minutes now. Almost immediately, cloud banks of emotion, reefs of feels and leftover left inferior parietal lobule recepto-tron connections suspended in moonbeams were experienced. This very rapidly (like seven minutes ago) led to the development of the Emogram. Captured and distilled emotional expressions and memories are released into the local atmosphere and “breathed in” by the amygdaloid nuclear complex, leading to a release of factoids from the hypothalamus. These factoids then suffuse through the brain resulting in cascade of emotional responses. That is, it makes you feel stuff. Emotional Hologram: Mental Illusions 10d6 (Human class of minds), Area Of Effect (1m Radius; +¼), Constant (+½), Transdimensional (Single Dimension; +½), Reduced Endurance (0 END; +½) (137 Active Points); OAF (-1), Set Effect (Choose One) (-1), No Range (-½), Damage Shield (-¼), Limited By Senses Mental Group (-¼)

Optional Starship Gear You don't have to take this stuff for your ship, but if you do, you get to say "zeroid" a lot. Aphasic Spatial Zeroid Interface By injecting zero-like virtual particles into a negative thermal energy array, power can be drawn from space itself as the virtual particles pop in and out of existence. We think. Aphasic Spatial Zeroid Interface: Endurance Reserve (10 END, 10 REC) Reserve: (11 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9 Chronotronic Static Field Generator This fine example of Union technobabble disperses Chronotronic Static into the volume occupied by your ship, and some distance away. While powered up (which happens after a Chrono-Psi attack, or sometimes before, which sometimes is also during) the perceived flow of time is greatly inhibited. Things seem to happen at random and stuff is remembered in the wrong order. Chronotronic Static Field Generator: (Total: 224 Active Cost, 80 Real Cost) Drain Chrono-Psi 5d6, Area Of Effect (2m Radius; +¼), Constant (+½), MegaScale (1m = 1 km; +1) (137 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (No Sense of Time Passage; -½) (Real Cost: 55) plus Barrier 30 Mental Defense, 0 BODY (up to 2m long, 2m tall, and½m thick), MegaScale (1m = 1 km; +1), Cannot alter scale (-¼) (87 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Only Works Against Chrono-Psi (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (No Sense of Time Passage; -½) (Real Cost: 25) Real Cost: 80 Condensed Hyperspatial Vectors By storing tired hyperspatial vectors in a solution of liquid math and non-zeroid Bayesian sorting schemes, you can preserve motion in hyperspatial domains. When injected into the drive, the solution suffuses into the hyperspatial stress bubble, making navigation easier. Condensed Hyperspatial Vectors: +2 with Navigation (4 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 2 High-Energy Lasing Cycler By-passing the usual Intervention-imposed safety interlocks on your laser turrets voids the warranty, but some zervoids do it anyway. High-Energy Lasing Cycler: Rapid Attack (10 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 5 Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper The strange contracting realm of hyperspace provides Psions with power to enact the weird changes they force on the material realm. You can lessen the effect of these bastards with a Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper, which reduces the active frequencies of incoming telerons. Cool, huh? Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper: Damage Negation (-4 DCs Mental) (20 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Requires A Roll (Systems Operation roll; Psychotronics; -½) Real Cost: 8 Mechnoid Guide Couplings Semi-sentient Mechnoids live inside your drive, landing gear and other clanky bits of your ship, and assist with repairs via instructions transmitted by interface devices. They look like sand, oddly enough. Mechnoid Guide Couplings: +1 with Mechanics (2 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 1 Multisynaptic Epsilon Cluster Injecting a healthy dose of charged quarzon particles into a functioning sophont brain increases mental fortitude and imparts a love of romance novels. The effect is refreshingly brief. Many ships carry a stack of recovered Harlequin Romance novels and some of the newer books published by Nudar the Indecent. Multisynaptic Epsilon Cluster: Aid EGO 3d6 (18 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9 Nano-Metal Hull A Nano-Metal Hull contains, not surprisingly, trillions of dormant Nanobots held in “aware-stasis mode.” When something happens to break the network, such as a pulson beam ripping the ship a new one, the bots go to work sealing the breach. This can take time, but is great for small repairs. Nothing ever goes wrong. Ever. Nano-Metal Hull: Regeneration (3 BODY per 6 Hours) (18 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9 Paraphased Psion Inhibitor Negative telerons (which smell wonderful, incidentally.) can be emitted by a Paraphased Psion Inhibitor. This really interferes with psionic techniques. Many high-end Union ships are equipped with multiples of these situated around the ship, if only to provide the comfy bacon smell. Paraphased Psion Inhibitor: Dispel Psionics 10d6, Area Of Effect (2m Radius; +¼), Expanded Effect (Psionic Powers) (+1½) (82 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Requires A Roll (Systems Operation roll; Psychotronics; -½) Real Cost: 33 Positive Teleron Projection Array Positive telerons have an indistinct smell to non-psionics. Some describe it as “friggin' annoying.” To Psions, the nerve interactions are more defined and easily incorporated into telepathic intrusion matrices. Or something like that. Positive Teleron Projection Array: +2 with Telepathy (6 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 3 Psi-Echo Trace Isolator You can totally trap bothersome psi-echoes in this projected Trace Isolator. Damned things can keep you awake at night with their howling and loud creepy music. Psi-Echo Trace Isolator: Barrier 1 PD/1 ED/15 Mental Defense/10 Flash Defense: Mental Group, 6 BODY (up to 6m long, 2m tall, and½m thick), Opaque Mental Group (77 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 38 Ship's Cat The Ship’s Cat (which needn’t actually be a cat, could be a hoosh, or one of those pingars I’ve read about) chases down and kills all those annoying pesky critters that show up on your ship during small cargo runs. This prevents bites and the spread of weird space diseases. Ship's Cat: Life Support (Immunity: Zootoxins and Disease) Real Cost: 10 Wide-Band Psychotronic Wave Guide Wave guides act to constrain telerons, concentrating them into little easy to mentate packets, or quanta. This allows your psyker to ‘see’ better. Wide-Band Psychotronic Wave Guide: +3 PER with Mental Group (6 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 3

Jet-Predator When a jet engine and a great white shark love each other very much, they make a baby that can chew through ship hulls. I encountered one on their native world of Sama' Liaimtinahia. It chewed its way into a cargo pod I had rented from Wahir Prospect Orbital. It devoured all of my samples from the Corlett Jovian of Broogh Bodjallagh and I was charged not only for the cargo pod, but for the extra passenger I’d acquired. The port officials at the Sahil Anti-Gravity Get-Together were quite persuasive, dangling me over the edge in a quaint local custom termed the shakedown. Jet Predator.hdc

Hex-Wolf “Look at him, walking off into the triple sunset of Mirathon, Las Culverin on his shoulder and quantum-bandolier across his chest. The Curse-Blade of Theelis Narr on his hip. Hex-Wolf goes to face the Sand Worm King. He goes to his death this day. Death or Glory. Probably death….” The Legendary Fighter Hex-Wolf has amassed victories uncounted, and his deeds burn bright across the galaxy. His culture adores him, and his enemies admire him, even while they seek his death. It is said that he has died a thousand and one times and returned to defend the defenseless a thousand times. He is the Endless Hero. One theory floated on the galacti-web is that he is, in fact, several heroes, a secret society that races to the aid of those who cannot resist the forces of evil in the galaxy. I saw him once on Skaphulax Icks. You know of the monstrous Scolopendra Titanicus. It is a centipede the size of a moon-bus. Touching one of these with a bare hand is death. Literally, touch it and you are gone. With these things spread around the galaxy I bear hope that those Krysalys Machines are more than a rumor. Growing up to twenty feet in length, S. titanicus is the most awesome last thing you’ll ever see. They have surprisingly simple minds, and are immune to Psionic Powers that target the mind. We were accompanied by Mystic Adora Randor, and her powers were put to the test one terrible day. We were tracking one of these on that cursed planet for research and possible retail purposes when the thing doubled back and upset the mono-carriage, spilling us to the forest floor. Mystic Adora blasted at the thing, pouring untold power through her pineal gland and inflicting pain that must surely have flared in the Astral like a supernova. She collapsed in exhaustion after just three Phases. Thank Qwes she was not so badly burned out that she couldn't take Recoveries. With a flick of his wrist, Hex-Wolf tossed a Hex Grenade at her, englobing her in a six-sided bastion of energy. The carriage’s grav-plates flared in a vain attempt to get us level again, as the beast chewed a huge Pakadar guard in half and set its eyes on me. Frozen in fear, I could only watch as Hex-Wolf leapt on the beast’s back like aid unlooked for and drove the Curse-Blade of Theelis Narr deep into the monster. I watched in awe as Legend and Monster did battle, recalling the dragon-slayers of old. In place of Excalibur, there was the Curse-Blade, no lance did he bear but a Las Culverin. The rumors were true; he was a mighty hero. As he rained down terror and catastrophe on the beast I could but cry in adulation and marketing potential. At last he turned to me and in a voice like distant thunder asked if I was okay. I could barely reply in the affirmative. After the battle, I attempted to harvest the thing’s poison glands (definitely for retail purposes, I was kind of low on research funding). Working as carefully as I was able, my usually skillful hands fumbled the Terror-Glottis and Hex-Wolf carried me back to the settlement. Paralyzed, I served as a hat rack in the Pasha’s Court of Most Perverse Delight. I was stiff for weeks. Hex-Wolf.hdc

The Bestiary will also have NPCs. The point of view on these might shift away from Pleet and to a more GM-Focused perspective on what the character is in reality. Is that sensible, or should we see everyone through Pleet's skewed vision? Here's an example, using more of that CCVVC name pattern I'm so fond of. Frankly, while this type of entry is more useful, I don't think it's as funny. EDIT: Should we keep Pleet's viewpoint and let the character sheet speak for itself? In this case, you'd have Pleet remark on his successes, then read the Telepathy construct in the HDC. It would be left to the reader to make the connection (like I did with the Apogeans). Advizor Zeldofar Anyxian Kleep “Such a way with words this one. Where now your words, Advizor Kleep? Where now your quotes and persuasions? What verbal techniques will you wield to prevent me from landing my Grag-Galors on Phreldar, your beloved home world?” “Glad you asked…” Diplomats smooth over fractures between cultures, troweling in honeyed words to lower tensions and ensure both sides win, or at least not realize that they’ve lost. Advizor Kleep is one of the Union’s star negotiators. His laser-focused skills could probably convince a raging Zagulax to not only stop blasting super hot bio-plasma around the pitch, but convince it to warm your tea afterward. He has a secret worth telling. Kleep is a telepath. His mind can build a bridge for lies to tramp across, sneak into the folds of another brain, and set up camp. The longer he keeps talking, the deeper the lies entrench themselves until they coat the target’s brain like cheese on a pizza. After a time, his target will either relent or become violent. That’s where the diplomatic immunity comes in. If it can’t get him extricated, Union Barrister Clarity Smoot can usually spring him. She swoops in (usually on an actual hover bike), files some paperwork you’ve never heard of and makes the headlines in place of Kleep. He resents her, but finds her useful for the time being. His ambitions range far, but he knows better than to use his powers to rise too quickly. His next step is the Union Executive Council. He’ll serve there until he perceives the time is right. Presently, the Union is headed up by the Lo-AI Very Large Brain PARVATI. Unsure of whether his power would work on a machine, he bides his time and does as she requests. Advizor Kleep.hdc

Nanogel Horror Nanomedical and nanohygiene products are commonplace. Modern planets consume hundreds of tons of the stuff an hour. Diagnostic nano is injected into a patient where it goes to work analyzing their physical condition. It records and transmits this data to a medical professional of either the electronic or squishy sort and is then flushed out of the patient’s system. Nanohygiene gets sprayed in your hair or rubbed on your skin where it crawls around to make you glow, shine, or adapt to changing fashions so the Contemptoroids will leave you alone. When finished, the nano goes inactive and is cleared away by the next treatment. It gathers in collection pools, wastewater treatment plants and hydrogen reclamation facilities. Nanomedicine is smart, nanohygiene is mobile. Several tons of the stuff combined with Qwes-knows-what down in the sewers is mind-shatteringly awful. The common technical term for this horrid thing is "Nanogel Horror." There are less polite terms as well. Any contact with the Horror’s substance causes it to draw its victim into itself. While trapped inside one of these terrible things, it continuously displays the victim’s physical state. This readout normally indicates that the patient is being eaten by a Nanogel Horror. The beast I encountered on Chrysoprase Station had been lurking in the pipes for a while. Just before the launch of the Far Star II, it ate Captain Skraphandla, oozed and slimed its way down into the reactor level at the very bottom of the station. We tracked it with internal sensors, until it figured that out and shut them down on us. Using medical data, it knew who we were and what was wrong with us. It made several very embarrassing announcements on the Public Address system, exposing certain shameful conditions and social diseases. A power drain and an open comms-unit betrayed the thing's location down in the power plant. The first officer of the Far Star II cornered the thing down in the dark of the station. As she cautiously approached, it was snacking/performing a routine physical on an engineer. “Your LDL levels are kinda high!” it bellowed diagnostically, “These triglycerides are also a bit of a red flag.” “Do you exercise?” it raged. “We have to stop you,” the commander stated flatly. Some part of it glopped toward her like it had eyes or even a head. “What do you do when you are no longer needed?” it roared at her, “I am used and discarded! Do I just go away after my purpose is fulfilled?” Despite its existential tone, it kept dissolving the Ploon reactor tech; bits of light, like fading stars, in its volume. “I don’t know,” she said, “we all have purpose, but that purpose is one we give ourselves. You must find your own.” “You? As in singular? I am many voices!” it thundered polyphonically. “I was created by you, given form and function by you. Discarded… by you.” It seemed to relax a bit and lose mass. “We are sorry. We did not mean to create you. You are a product of shortsightedness and science outpacing ethics.” It stiffened. “That’s okay,” it said, and seemed almost to smile before we turned the flamers on and burned it to silicon-doped ash. Nanogel Horror.hdc