This is set in an alternate timeline to all previous roleplays, as to not interfere with what the rest of you have going on, but if you want you can bring in characters from earlier roleplays that you have made, or change it slightly, or you can make a new one if you prefer.
No game enders (e.g 'And then everyone died, the end.')
Don't kill other people unless they've confirmed that you can.
No mind-control or making other people do your bidding.
Try not to make an impossible scenario (X snuck down the hall, Y turned around) unless you have a reason for it (Y has super hearing, etc.)
You can introduce new elements to the story, just make sure that it's not too big and it effects everyone else drastically.
If you would like, you can post a quick little snippet of a description or backstory of your character, such as their name, planet, faction, etc.
And lastly, have fun! Remember, it's a roleplay, it's not a matter of life or death. Don't get too worked up over it if something goes wrong.
After many decades of stolen cash and grand thefts, the Galactic Federation decides to switch the galaxy to a digital currency, Units. This currency is entirely digitial and consists of electronic transfers of virtual 'cash' (much like Bitcoin). The entire system is run by supercomputer the size of a city on the planet of Uyzuno. All physical currency, including bartering, becomes outlawed.
Thirty-six years later, however, after a terrible incident above the planet, a fatal error occurs that destroys the entire system. This results in a rippling wave of disastrous proportions as hundreds of billions, if not trillions, of civilised beings realise they are suddenly penniless. This event is later become to be known as the Galactic Depression.
Sierix Diosin was sitting in his armchair in the cockpit of the Asterix IV Starship overlooking the city below. Unlike Sierix himself, the city was very interesting in the way that it wasn't actually a city, it was the UBank, the grandious computer that controlled the entirety of the galactic economy, the Unit system. On the other hand, Sierix was not a very interesting person (nor an interesting city), and can be forgotten about. This currency system was entirely digitial and was encompassed within the electronics of the computer. It consisted of electronic transfers of virtual 'cash' of which each was called 'Units'. This system had worked well for a total of thirty-six years, with no major events or changes. The entire computer glistened thanks to the near-impenetrable shield that surrounded it. If anything happened to the system, it would mean disaster for the whole galaxy.
So naturally the Galactic Federation assigned a team of only ten people to monitor it.
However, what these ten people did not notice was a fleet of Galactic Police advancing from behind them, all of which were chasing a small, speedy ship. This ship was home to one of the most infamous criminal masterminds of the entire universe, but unfortunately the stupidest name in the entire universe, Robby Bob. Robby Bob had grown old, and he knew he was about to get caught. So as he shot towards the UBank in his hyper-speed spacecraft, he thought that if he was going down, he was taking the galaxy with him. And take the galaxy with him he did, as when he plunged towards the computer, he fired at the shield projector in the ship in front of him. He then dove into the depths of the intricate wiring of the mechanical masterpiece, and exploded. And so did the UBank. For the fifteen people near the planet, including the Galactic Police, Sierix, and the nine other people monitoring the city, the last words of all fifteen were each a variation of 'Sh*t'.
"Mother of Sean, the hype has transcended space and time!"
My character’s name is Oraccio Moctaviuse I was a small time trader when the sh*t hit the fan and the universal currency disappeared. Don’t know what caused it don’t really care my cargo was destined for a group of military setting up an outpost on a little backwater planet called Xenoth. I decided to complete my cargo run as I hadn’t failed one yet being a new trader on the scene. Low and behold when I drop my cargo at this military outpost they had turned to piracy and take my ship and cargo leaving me with just my suit and my multi-tool dirty bastards. When I find a way to get off this death planet I am going to take great pleasure in extracting my price from them. First have to survive on this topsy-turvey world where its absolutely scorching during the day freezing at night and the only water is in underground cave systems and is to acidic to drink without filtration. Hope my meager supplies and whatever I end up scrounging from the soldiers camp lets me survive long enough to find a way off this planet.
News reached the Council of Iron Bloodborn Elders on the fall of the Ubank in Uyzuno. Immediately plans were put into motion and strategies changed. For hundreds of cycles The Armada was the scourge of the Outer Rims but no more that a distant bogeyman for the inner rims. A distant threat that many did not believe even existed. The Council wanted to reach the centre. They believe great power was to be found there. The fall of the Ubank would plunge the Universe in chaos they knew and this was the opportunity to bring their master plan forward by hundreds of cycles. They were ready. The Zero G Revenants were assembled, orders issued to the Greyhawks planetary raider forces, Ascendants were told to gather the meanest, most ruthless Armadans and prepare for War.
The Armada released The Archangels from their leashes and followed their pathfinders to untold plunder. Orders were issued to all ship and vessel captains. All hands on deck. Hatches down. Red Alert. The Armada was moving towards the Centre. Let the Universe tremble and scream in fear...
For The BloodBorn!!!!
Last Edit: Apr 29, 2016 22:36:38 GMT by deustriplo
See you all around the orbit of some dark strange star!!!
James was sitting quietly on a small bench on Oavis Prime, sketching the wild animals he saw there. He was proud of this bench because he had built it himself. He drew a few more lines on the beautiful Tropical Verilousi, a wonderful creature that flew with the strange flaps on either side of it's belly, like a flying snake. They surrounded the nearby portal, guarding it from threats from above and below. James was thinking how he would draw these flaps when he heard a ping come from his helmet beside him. He picked up the helmet and put it on and saw that he had one new notification. An urgent notification. He opened it up and read the message sent to him from F3AR, the leader of the Protectors of the Abyss. Nine simple words struck him by surprise, and when he read it he grabbed his notebook and ran to his house: 'The UBank has fallen. The Armada advances. Be ready.'
OCC: I am playing my character as the complete opposite of what he is in the real NMS universe. Like the twisted mirror.
IC: Nomad cleaned his knife before sheathing it. He looked down at his blade work. Five dead in ten heartbeats. Didn't even break a sweat. Of course he left the sixth one alive. He needed the coordinates for the trade route of the Aramar. And he would of course get it. Slowly, He would savour the screams like one savours an exquisite red wine.
He rolled his broad shoulders looking at the terrified trader, slopped against the ship's hull with two holes in his kneecaps. He grinned under his helmet covered in tight dried scalps. He loved the fear his appearance instilled in these cowards. It was like an opiate to him, driving him to seek more danger, to deliver more pain, to take what he wanted and give nothing back.
The Archangels received a message 5 sleep cycles ago. "Blood for the Bloodborn..." a wispy ancient voice whispered in their helmets. The code word for the Armada invasion of the inner rims on its way to the centre. Nomad one of the first Archangels was already feared and revered among the Armada forces as a beast of the void. A plunder of lives, a feaster of souls, breaker of men. Where he treaded death, misery and pain soon followed. A Reaver they whispered in hushed and awed tones. Self made in the Pits of the Armada, ruthless, without mercy, with a soul as dark as the shapeless ether.
The trade route of Aramar was one of the most important in the sector as it supplied weapons and recruits for the Galactic Police Force, He twitched in antecipation. It had been too long since he had slayed one of those self assured paladins of virtue. He almost spat and sneered. He was to get the coordinates, rendezvous with an advance force of Armada ships, capture and destroy as much as they could, disrupting the route and the war efforts of the GDF.
With the UBank gone anarchy was starting to descend. Societies would start to break and starting to revert to the purest of all laws. Survival of the fittest. He took his helmet and crouched by the wounded man. The self inflicted scarification on his face a patchwork of crosses and slashes rendering his features horrible to behold. He pulled his knife from its sheath. "Usually after a battle I etch my flesh with a small slash to mark another enemy vanquished. But those sick bags.." he said motioning to the five corpses, "Are not worth the space on my flesh. They were weak. Almost as weak as you." He said and casually plunged the knife in the man's hand twisting the blade wickedly. A piercing shout as the blade penetrated flesh, tendon and bone. "I want the new coordinates for the Aramar trade route little man and all codewords for the enforcers ships protecting the convoys. Quickly! And maybe, just maybe I will let you die with some dignity and less pain than I really crave..."
A few hours later covered in grime and blood, sated and excited he warped towards his new goal. The Armada vanguard force following his beacon. First the Aramar route and than the system itself.
Fire and death would come crashing down. He roared to the void as his ship parted the warp like a spear.
"Cyclone" - former operative of the Galactic Federation Cyborg Forces, previously stationed on planet Uyzuno. Now, a small cell barely large enough to even think comfortably is what he called home for the last 14 years. He was convicted for the murder of a high profile UBank technician who, as life would have it, aided a smuggling ring to launder credits into the UBank. Had it not been for his highly decorated service and previous acts of great heroism, he'd certainly have faced the Vacuum Chamber penalty; a gruesome death indeed. He was sentenced to 184 years in Galactic Federal Prison and a memory wipe.
The memory bank wipes as of late were unable to completely wipe away the memory of a cyborg. Personality remained, however, just about everything else vanished like a wisp of smoke into thin air. If you were lucky, snippets of memory would remain; a grain of sand in the desert of who you really were. The earliest memory the courts allowed you to keep were from the day of your crimes. Great.
Solitude forced Cyclone into a self destructive routine. Every morning he would wake and relive the fateful day that would change his life forever. He hated mornings, as it took roughly an hour to shake off the feelings of his crippling past. He hated every dreaded recollection of each lost chance at having the courts hear his pleas of innocence. "They were stealing..." he muttered to himself with disdain. Of all the things that he missed, his Particle Wave Cannon modification was by far the most unsettling thing to lose. Cyclone fantasized daily of how he would use it to blow the walls right off of the foundation of the prison cell and escape. Sometimes he would look at his arm and struggle in an odd paralytic battle, trying to make his arm transform into his once beloved cannon. Sometimes this forced struggle would turn into minor episodes of psychotic screaming while flexing and squeezing his arm in hopes that it would somehow morph as it once had so easily.
Every morning he would wake and relive the fateful day that would change his life forever... but this morning would be different. This morning, the UBank had collapsed. All money was gone. The prison system had crumbled; the prison guards no longer manned their posts. Everyone was free; everyone equal. He awoke to find his cell pitch black. It had been a long time since Cyclone had ever even thought of turning on his High-Focus Adaptive Night Vision. As his long unused cyborg system modules finally removed the dark shroud from his vision, he noticed that his cell door was ajar. As he walked out of his cell, he noticed all of the other cells were open as well, and the prison was mostly empty. The dead bodies of a few guards and some prisoners could be found spread sparsely on his walk through some unfamiliar corridors. The signs of a struggle and fighting were clearly visible. What the hell happened here? he thought. On his way out, Cyclone knew he couldn't leave without finding his Particle Cannon. Much to his dismay, the weapon storage was empty. Whoever, or whatever, did this must have cleaned house. Damn, I'll have to find another way.
For the first time in 14 years, Cyclone walked outside the smooth black walls of the Galactic Federal Prison, and took a long, deep breath of fresh air. That feels better than I remembered, he thought to himself, as he took half a dozen more deep, satisfying breaths. Who am I? Why should I fight? WHO should I fight? He was growing increasingly frustrated at his inability to produce memory from his memory banks.
"I had friends..." he uttered, looking up to the sky before running off into the distance towards UBank City in hopes of finding a flight worthy starship.
Edit: While thinking up of what to write in my next post, I realized that Cyclone couldn't possibly have known that the UBank had been destroyed. I rewrote a little and added minor details to the third and fourth paragraphs describing the exiting of the abandoned prison.
All of the changes are minor and will not affect the proper continuity of the story in any way.
Harry had never trusted the units system and had been selling fuel for graph and graph for fuel for 40 yrs same as his father had before him. He knew the whores in his hotel had a barter system of their own so when the UNIT crash hit nothing seemed to change at the Double Helix space station behind a moon near Zanadoo 5.
Wolf stared at the night sky through the smoke of the burning mining camp on the planet Keth. He wondered where the other Archangels were, one in particular. All Wolf wanted was to follow in his mentor, Nomad, footsteps. Nomad was the most feared Archangel in the entire Armada and Wolf had the honor of being mentored by him. Wolf longed to be as feared as Nomad so as soon as he had heard Nomad became an Archangel he requested to be transferred from the Zero G Revenant forces to an Archangel.
Wolf returned to his ship loaded with Heridium. He was in the Boltanic sector of the galaxy which happened to be rich in resources the Armada needed to keep its momentum going. The Jork was the main faction that controlled this region and had extensive mining operations which Wolf was tasked with disrupting. Wolf took pride in being tasked with this job because he knew how much the Armada needed the Heridium that was in these planets.
Somewhere on a distant planet, a lone sorcerer awakens after a failed magic spell sent him spiraling into this universe from one of the magical past. Ahleingui and his paladin friend Rord find themselves stranded... However, a side effect of the portal that brought them here has locked Rord inside Ahl's mind.
Now, having the magic he has grown up with stripped from him by unknown forces residing in this strange universe, Ahl must journey out to locate his lost crew mates. He must learn how to harness the new 'Space-Magic' of his suit and blaster or else he and Rord will soon find themselves in the afterlife; a fate neither of them want to visit again any time soon.
Kataru woke in a daze blood covered him a lot more enemies than he thought but not to much of a match. He walked slowly down the hallway to the main hub and checked out the central computer and retrieved the item. Soon alarms blurted out Kataru started running he soon reched his ship and took off to the nearest planet and thought to himself*
The space station wasn't huge but it wasn't small is same about just the right size to hide a medium size hotel 15 docking bays and 12 huge tanks of fuel and 5 various types of bars and night clubs for weary travelers and rouges Harry had basically inherited the space station when his father was killed on Xanadu 5 hunting down a traitor who owed him money and graph and fuel. Harry had taken a ship down to Xanadu 5 and killed the man who killed his father he was 19 years old his father's last words were "Don't let anybody get away with anything kid." and that has been his Moto from that day until this. There are 15 cyborgs on the space station that help Harry keep the peace and make sure everybody stays within the law of the space station. He calls his main cyborg Jerrod, Jerrod never leaves his side, and nobody tries to rip off harry anymore. Or they will get something they need ripped off their body!
Running as fast as he could for about ten minutes, James eventually made it to his small home. The sun was already setting, and from experience he knew it would be night any minute. He swiftly grabbed his trusty Multi-tool and prized Plasma cannon, and stocked his backpack with Heridium. There was plenty of Heridium on Oavis, it was about time to use it. James jumped into his ship, turned the ignition, and sped away through the atmosphere. Leaving the beautiful planet of Oavis Prime behind, he activated hyper-speed to jump to the nearest star. Then the next. Then the next. The race to the centre was something James had given out on many years ago, but this was an emergency. He was much closer to the centre than the Armada, and if anything, he could get there first and warn the people living near the centre and maybe raise a little defence. Though there wasn't much defence to be had against the Armada, and he knew that first-hand. But at least he could try. But not only that, James had been to the centre. He had seen what was there, he had witnessed the beauty and destructive of the thing inside. And if the Armada got their hands on it, it would not fair well for the universe.
Cody let out a sigh of relief as he reclined his chair in the cockpit of a disassembled Korvax ship. He stared out of the cluttered hanger bay into the emptiness of space, the stars creating a beautiful backdrop to the blue and orange planet below. The wonderful image was complimented by the purring of the dracimore named Brigit which sat in his lap. Cody smiled slightly as he thought about how lucky he was to be here. This small repair shop he ran out of a hollow asteroid was his idea of paradise. He moved up here from the planet Trexin a few weeks ago, and so far its been the only peace he has known. Trexin, located in the outer rim, is home to many families of the Armada. And like the Armada itself, Trexin is full of ruthless backstabbers, liars, cheaters, and murderers. Every day, life for Cody was a battle just to survive. To make matters worse, his father served as a captain in the Armada, and had always insisted that he follow in his footsteps. But Cody's mother wanted a different life for him; she pushed him to learn a trade, and to have a life away from Trexin. So naturally he started to make preparations to leave home… that was almost three years ago. Three years of hard work, studying, saving, and a whole lot of stealing parts and tools. Plus getting one of the local miners to hollow out this asteroid and push it into orbit. But it was all worth it, now he was finally free. Brigit stirred in Cody's lap and looked up at him, blinking her four eyes simultaneously. She got up on all six legs and stretched, the scales on her back shifting over one another; then unfolded her wings and leapt out of the cockpit and glided to the far corner of the shop where her food and water was placed. Its about time I get up too. Thought Cody as he stood up and stretched in the same manner as Brigit. His eyes passed over the crates sitting it the middle of the shop, most of which were labeled as FOOD. I better unpack that as well, before another ship shows up and has nowhere to park. As he climbed out of the Korvax ship, he took a look around the rest of the shop. There were piles of parts covering most of the floor space, and a layer of rust covered any part of the floor left exposed. To the untrained eye it looked like a collection of junk, but to Cody it was worth tens of thousands of units. Buried under most of the non valuables were all of the expansive pieces, like warp drives, motherboard chips, photon cannons, and plutonium fuel converters. He kept his shop this way intentionally, due to the nature of his customers. If they came in and saw this mess, they would assume there is nothing here worth stealing. Plus, with most of the floor space taken up by spare parts, only one ship can land in here at a time which gives the advantage of not getting overrun by too much work. Cody smirked at his cleverness as he walked towards the crates, but before he got half way there, something on the far wall caught his attention. The control panel at his work station was flashing bright yellow and said Urgent Message - Galactic Federation "What? That cant be right." said Cody. "Must be a spam message." He walked over to the panel and attempted to dismiss the message, but all it did was beep at him. "What the hell?" he blurted. Sensing his confusion, Brigit trotted over to him and whined questioningly. In attempting to delete the message Cody accidentally opened it and almost fell down as he stumbled backwards. In large, bold, red letters, the message said Ubank Destroyed. It then went on to describe the details of the event. Once Cody was done reading he looked down at Brigit's confused face and said, "Brigit… we are about to enter a world of shit." "Menyaaaaaaaaaaaah." she replied "I know Brigit, I know... I'm hungry too"
TO BE CONTINUED
The life we live is not what matters, what matters is the life we leave behind for others.
Nomad jumped away from the Aramar system towards his next destination. He had little patience to stay in one place once the fighting was done. Others could take care of what came next. The Aramar trade route had fallen quickly and with very little bloodshed thanks to the codes he tortured from that weak trader. The security forces had been slaughtered quickly and efficiently when the Armada advanced force warped right in the middle of the fleet. The Revenant Zero G forces has boarded the freighters and took control of the vessels as many ships had simply surrounded once their defences were gone and the threat of the Armada forces looming over them. Weapons, resources and pressed ganged bodies were on this very moment travelling to the main body of the pirate flotilla to add to their ever expanding numbers and power.
The system itself fell in less than 3 orbits. Less quickly and less bloody. The small Galactic Police Forces stationed in the system put on a valiant fight but were no match for the numbers or ferocity of the Armada. Nomad himself had led the attack and boarding of the main orbital defence platform of the Aramar I. He enjoyed the close proximity hand combat and the thrill of pitting your life against others. Once control of the platform was achieved the weapons were turned on the planet below and its terrified population. Strategic targets were destroyed and the Greyhawk raider forces descended on the planet in one fell swoop to start their orgy of plunder and death.
The Armada tactics were simple, destroy military targets and infrastructures, commander any ships from the defence forces for assimilation into the Armada and its crews, minus officers. Target all prisons and free all prisoners to bolster the pirate numbers and sow terror and destruction on the general population. Resources were plundered, technologies and researches stolen, scientists and engineers also captured when possible for a life of servitude in the main body of the Armada.
And as soon as it had started it was over. The Armada were not a conquering force. They were marauders, pillaging for what the wanted and need, in their quest for the centre. Nomad never had the stomach for what came next. The endless bureaucracy of assessing those assimilated into the Armada was never ending. It was what separated the pirate flotilla from others bucanners and corsair forces in the Universe. In a sense they were really a drifting city state amongst the stars, with their own rules, infrastructures, customs and rigid laws.
Nomad had no time for all that. He lived solely for the thrill of the chase, of the hunt, constantly wanting to prove that he was the measure against which all other men were judged. He looked at his galactic chart. He needed to unwind. He was not far from his favourite watering hole in this part of the Universe. He entered new coordinates into his ship and made his way to the Double Helix space station behind a moon near Zanadoo 5. Time for drinking and whoring.
See you all around the orbit of some dark strange star!!!