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[filiusenox]

And there's a thing speaking of the unified setting under the first post here.

I'll tell you if it fucks with the setting too much.

Ardas: Lovely. You're in.
Dwarmin: In, but I'm going to make your gene-type rare. This okay?
Micelus: In.
DigitalHellhound: In. And the political party is...hmm....in.

Spoiler: Trade (click to show/hide)

Due to the massive size of a business, these days, very few CEOs actually make an attempt to sort through all the confusing product A goes to sector B in return for product C, and instead focus on the bottom line, the routes that make up this service, and trading deals between planets and other corps.

All businesses start at tier three, which means they produce three Acredits for CEO use, the rest of the income is used on the corp. To expand the corp, you make trade routes or broker deals with other corps/planets.

Every trade route will add ,5 Acredits to CEO-income, whereas every deal brokered will bring in 1 Acredit.

Building a trade route is meeting two planets and getting to agree on a trade route using your ships, protection or diplomacy service. 4-10 on a diplomacy roll will get the resources flowin'.

Brokering a deal is usually harder to broker, a 4-9 on two rolls, with one reroll, before your businesses trade resources, contacts, and labor.

There's one last thing one can do, a buyout, which is three rolls, where you must have between 6-8, with bonuses depending on older rolls. This'd allow for the buyout of any sized company, which'd add however many tiers it has to your own. BUT for every failed buyout, you lose 1 tier from your own business.

[Dwarmin]

Ardas: Lovely. You're in.
Dwarmin: In, but I'm going to make your gene-type rare. This okay?

Yeah, no problem-it's supposed to be fairly rare anyhow.

[Dwarmin]

~Finalized my sheet with traits, Fili. Tell me if these work.~

Name: Aello Le'Merc
Age: 87

Description: Born and created to be a secretary (an undewhelming prospect, to be sure), Aello Le Merce was assigned to a backwater world at a young age, where she toiled away tirelessly-but was never quite content...Imperial records would later show she had been created with a 3.8% intellectual deviation from the Genetic Perfection Quotient, resultant of a Metasaline concentration error that has since been fixed.

Feeling the first symptoms of 'Burnout'-her genetic types most common flaw-she began to spread her skills to other fields-Science, Business, Philosophy and Religion. Settling on, and adapting herself to the world of business was not much of a stretch. In the space of five years, she had established a conglomerate that spanned the world. In ten years, she had bought out (or destroyed) most of her planetside competition, and begun expanding her franchise into orbital, then systemic, then pan-galactic business ventures. The La'Merc Trade Consort was formed from the remnants of those she displaced on the way-and Aello took to the stars, seeking fortune and power.

The woman herself is enigmatic, startlingly beautiful and fairly remorseless in her line of work. Her intellect is vast and cool-and colored with a forceful temperament that has allowed her to survive so long. Survival is indeed one of her main goals. She has already outlived her genetic baselines maximum age by 24 years through extensive medical procedures of all stripes-and it is only getting harder and more expensive every day to maintain herself, which her company funds entirely. To Aello, this business is not merely a job she goes to-it's quite literally life and death, with every deal bringing her one step closer to immortality-or oblivion.

Still, those few who know her consider her essentially honest, and not at all a bad person-if utterly ruthless in business and war, she had a tender spot for the less strenuous parts of life, and keeps tabs on those she calls friends. Her personal trade vessel is one part pleasure cruiser, one part garden and animal preserve, one part art museum. She's an avid collector of many things (many, many things), a lover of art in all forms (some very odd), and an author of several books on how to maintain a stress-free life.

-Race: Homo Intellectus
--Race Description: Genetically augmented Humans used most often as functionaries, diplomats, legal representatives, bureaucratic drones and assistants, particularly in fledgling and border worlds greatly lacking the existing structures to produce them from the populace. The Homo Intellectus gene is modified to improve intelligence, logical reasoning and processing speed at the cost of physical attributes-the most advanced types come with the ability to control their memories, senses and conception of time. Usually, the race is particularly short lived, due to their lifestyle-without additional and extremely expensive treatments (being easier to replace than fix), they tend to burn out in about 30 years of life, suffering from early onset senility, dementia and other serious mental defects. They are fairly rare these days, and not being actively produced in any great numbers.

-Company Name: Le'Merc Trade Consort (LTC)

Traits:
Trade Baroness/+2 to Diplomacy
Making a Killing/+1 to Buyouts
Profit Margin/+2 to Starting Credits

[filiusenox]

Traits:
Trade Baroness/+2 to Diplomacy
Making a Killing/+1 to Buyouts
Profit Margin/+2 to Starting Credits (whatever one point buys)

[NUKE9.13]

So, um. How's this look?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Once proud we, once mighty we.

Next Ozomatli come, human-war bring.

Tapalcayo name, home, forget. To stars flee, in Ozomatacalli stolen.
Tapalcayo new home search. Never find. Often Ozomatli fight. Sometimes win. Often lose.

Become Ichtecqui, thieves, pirates. In stars live, in Ozomatacalli, spaceships. Always running, always fighting.

Time changes. Tapalcayo human-language learn. Notalways fight. Ozomatli fight Ozomatli, Tapalcayo profit. Time changes. Soon, Yaoquixoaz. Reclaim Tapalcayo home. First, Ichtecqui be. Human-human-war fights.


Markactl dips his paws in the bowl of Poxahuac, and lifts the oozing delicacy to his maw. This was their one luxury, the one thing the humans could not take. Poxahuac, the one reminder of their homeworld. The Ozomatli considered it disgusting. Even the most twisted xenophile wouldn't touch the stuff. This was the real deal- grown in vats in a Tapacalyo hiveship, not made in a factory by enterprising humans. Needless to say, it was expensive, and having an entire bowl denoted high status.
The human diplomat looked decidely unimpressed by the show of wealth.

"Listen, Mark", he said, patiently,"I understand you cannot control your people's every move. All I'm saying is, we'd appreciate it if you could show some effort to police them- or let human officers abord your ships. I trust you, really, but there are those who think you're doing this on purpose. They think we should just send a warfleet to kill you all, who think you've broken the treaty."

Markactl finished shovelling the last of the Poxahuac into his maw, then closed it and carefully tucked it back under his chin. He cleared his gills, wiped some slime off of them with a hankerchief, and in a tortured accent, replied.

"First tell people police own people. Land I on planet, try everyone to kill me. Say I treaty, say they die alien. Fault not mine some Tapalcayo strike back against Ozomatli scum. Human start human-war, not Tapalcayo, never Tapalcayo. I am not a crooq"

"A what?"

"Crooq. Like president say."

"What? Oh, a crook! Right, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I'll talk to the council. Sorry for bothering you."

"Good day, mister ambassador."

"Right, yes, one last thing, sorry- just checking- you will be aiding on the assault on the rebel stronghold, yes?"

"Money come, fight happen."

"...right, yes. The money will come, I assure you. And you will be there?"

"If not blown up by warfleet"

"Ahaha... yes, of course."

Name: Markactl the Ichtecqui.
Age: Probably 30. Ish.

Descript: Markactl (aka Mark) is a diplomat/leader of the Tapalcayo, a race of alien vagabonds- homeless pirates and mercenaries, drifting between worlds on fleets of stolen ships. The Tapalcayo tell of their expulsion from their homeworld by human invaders; the humans tell of the subsequent terror inflicted by an entire race of nomadic aliens looting and pillaging throughout known space, destroying entire colonies before eventually being defeated by human warfleets.
Peace was arranged, but short-lived. The Tapalcayo had no home, and soon returned to piracy. They were again defeated. This cycle has repeated itself several times, each time with the Tapalcayo swearing to mend their ways, and hiding out in such remote regions that actually tracking them down is more hassle than just signing a peace treaty.
The current treaty is several years old, and already showing strains. Tapalcayo pirates have been hitting remote outposts, and Markactl and his colleagues seem disinclined to do anything about it. However, for the most part the race works as mercenaries for unscrupulous human warlords, and tends to avoid the central regions of Voandrath; no judgement has overruled the current treaty, so they are- technically- classified as peaceful aliens.

In reality, Markactl is the king of a Tapalcayo fleet, and well aware of the criminal elements within it. He puts on a front of ignorant alien, but it actually well-studied in human law, language, and history, and uses his knowledge to keep his people within the realm of 'technically legal'. He also tries to 'act human' in human company- he wears a suit (despite Tapalcayo culture having no concept of clothing) and sunglasses (despite Tapalcayo not actually having eyes to be covered by them), tries to adopt human mannerisms, and, as mentioned, puts on an ignorant alien act which tends to put people at ease.
He dreams of one day reclaiming the Tapalcayo homeworld, a dream undaunted by the fact that no one- human or tapalcayo- remembers where it was.

Traits:
-A Tapalcayo hiveship and accompanying fleet (one fleet)
-Two battalions of Tapalcayo warriors (two regiments)
-Um, +2 to combat, apparently.

Spoiler: Tapalcayo (click to show/hide)

Tapalcayo are a relatively humanoid species, in that they have two legs, two arms, and a head- all in roughly the right places. They are comprised of a segmented shell. They breath through vents on the sides of their head. They eat and mate with a maw which they store under their 'chin', as it is made of flabby unprotected flesh. For this reason, they consider eating an erotic processes, and to eat with a Tapalcayo is a great honour.
Their shells are photoreceptive; they 'see' with their entire bodies. They combine this with primarily smell to navigate. They use sound-based comunication, and with some difficulty can render and understand the human language.
Tapalcayo have difficulty understanding the human concept of time.
Tapalcayo are, by their own standards, not excessively violent. By human standards, they are a race of violent psychopaths. Tapalcayan limbs may grow back upon being severed, and as such mutilation is their standard punishment for minor crimes. Tapalcayan pirates have a tendency to sever the limbs of their human victims as well, hence a reputation for extreme violence.

[filiusenox]

So, um. How's this look?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Once proud we, once mighty we.

Next Ozomatli come, human-war bring.

Tapalcayo name, home, forget. To stars flee, in Ozomatacalli stolen.
Tapalcayo new home search. Never find. Often Ozomatli fight. Sometimes win. Often lose.

Become Ichtecqui, thieves, pirates. In stars live, in Ozomatacalli, spaceships. Always running, always fighting.

Time changes. Tapalcayo human-language learn. Notalways fight. Ozomatli fight Ozomatli, Tapalcayo profit. Time changes. Soon, Yaoquixoaz. Reclaim Tapalcayo home. First, Ichtecqui be. Human-human-war fights.


Markactl dips his paws in the bowl of Poxahuac, and lifts the oozing delicacy to his maw. This was their one luxury, the one thing the humans could not take. Poxahuac, the one reminder of their homeworld. The Ozomatli considered it disgusting. Even the most twisted xenophile wouldn't touch the stuff. This was the real deal- grown in vats in a Tapacalyo hiveship, not made in a factory by enterprising humans. Needless to say, it was expensive, and having an entire bowl denoted high status.
The human diplomat looked decidely unimpressed by the show of wealth.

"Listen, Mark", he said, patiently,"I understand you cannot control your people's every move. All I'm saying is, we'd appreciate it if you could show some effort to police them- or let human officers abord your ships. I trust you, really, but there are those who think you're doing this on purpose. They think we should just send a warfleet to kill you all, who think you've broken the treaty."

Markactl finished shovelling the last of the Poxahuac into his maw, then closed it and carefully tucked it back under his chin. He cleared his gills, wiped some slime off of them with a hankerchief, and in a tortured accent, replied.

"First tell people police own people. Land I on planet, try everyone to kill me. Say I treaty, say they die alien. Fault not mine some Tapalcayo strike back against Ozomatli scum. Human start human-war, not Tapalcayo, never Tapalcayo. I am not a crooq"

"A what?"

"Crooq. Like president say."

"What? Oh, a crook! Right, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I'll talk to the council. Sorry for bothering you."

"Good day, mister ambassador."

"Right, yes, one last thing, sorry- just checking- you will be aiding on the assault on the rebel stronghold, yes?"

"Money come, fight happen."

"...right, yes. The money will come, I assure you. And you will be there?"

"If not blown up by warfleet"

"Ahaha... yes, of course."

Name: Markactl the Ichtecqui.
Age: Probably 30. Ish.

Descript: Markactl (aka Mark) is a diplomat/leader of the Tapalcayo, a race of alien vagabonds- homeless pirates and mercenaries, drifting between worlds on fleets of stolen ships. The Tapalcayo tell of their expulsion from their homeworld by human invaders; the humans tell of the subsequent terror inflicted by an entire race of nomadic aliens looting and pillaging throughout known space, destroying entire colonies before eventually being defeated by human warfleets.
Peace was arranged, but short-lived. The Tapalcayo had no home, and soon returned to piracy. They were again defeated. This cycle has repeated itself several times, each time with the Tapalcayo swearing to mend their ways, and hiding out in such remote regions that actually tracking them down is more hassle than just signing a peace treaty.
The current treaty is several years old, and already showing strains. Tapalcayo pirates have been hitting remote outposts, and Markactl and his colleagues seem disinclined to do anything about it. However, for the most part the race works as mercenaries for unscrupulous human warlords, and tends to avoid the central regions of Voandrath; no judgement has overruled the current treaty, so they are- technically- classified as peaceful aliens.

In reality, Markactl is the king of a Tapalcayo fleet, and well aware of the criminal elements within it. He puts on a front of ignorant alien, but it actually well-studied in human law, language, and history, and uses his knowledge to keep his people within the realm of 'technically legal'. He also tries to 'act human' in human company- he wears a suit (despite Tapalcayo culture having no concept of clothing) and sunglasses (despite Tapalcayo not actually having eyes to be covered by them), tries to adopt human mannerisms, and, as mentioned, puts on an ignorant alien act which tends to put people at ease.
He dreams of one day reclaiming the Tapalcayo homeworld, a dream undaunted by the fact that no one- human or tapalcayo- remembers where it was.

Traits:
-A Tapalcayo hiveship and accompanying fleet (one fleet)
-Two battalions of Tapalcayo warriors (two regiments)
-Either money or some sort of mercenary/diplomat trait enabling the acquisition of money through mercenary work.

Spoiler: Tapalcayo (click to show/hide)

Tapalcayo are a relatively humanoid species, in that they have two legs, two arms, and a head- all in roughly the right places. They are comprised of a segmented shell. They breath through vents on the sides of their head. They eat and mate with a maw which they store under their 'chin', as it is made of flabby unprotected flesh. For this reason, they consider eating an erotic processes, and to eat with a Tapalcayo is a great honour.
Their shells are photoreceptive; they 'see' with their entire bodies. They combine this with primarily smell to navigate. They use sound-based comunication, and with some difficulty can render and understand the human language.
Tapalcayo have difficulty understanding the human concept of time.
Tapalcayo are, by their own standards, not excessively violent. By human standards, they are a race of violent psychopaths. Tapalcayan limbs may grow back upon being severed, and as such mutilation is their standard punishment for minor crimes. Tapalcayan pirates have a tendency to sever the limbs of their human victims as well, hence a reputation for extreme violence.

In. I'll start you off in pitched battle, so put like...a plus 2 to combat for your last slot.

[filiusenox]

I suppose I'll apply. Later.

Spoiler: Done (click to show/hide)

Name: Nathaniel Samaan
Age: 17
Descript: Slightly over average height and lean, his head showing shaggy light-gray hair with a thin ponytail and electric-blue eyes on a handsome and young face, Nathaniel is usually either wearing casual clothing or inside the lightly armored suit he has that leaves his face hidden from prying eyes.

Born as son of a couple that was part of a terrorist organization, Arithos had a fairly common childhood in one of the group's secondary bases, if a bit sheltered and lacking in parental affection due to growing fear of the children of conspirators becoming assassination targets. Of course, the fact he was given regular education did not exempt him from being taught guerilla tactics and the weak spots of several types of ships and commonly-used vehicles and construction patterns employed by humans and a few alien species which allied with them for profit. His parents educated him in tactics, strategies and hoped he would one day be part of the leaders of their crusade for freedom.

Most commonly portrayed as an agent of chaos, the group's violence and tactics were born as a response against the violent repression they had suffered when their manifestations were still pacific and their claims of corruption and dictatorship spreading across the sector were backed up by proof instead of firepower. With time, the ideals of the group started to deteriorate, although the core of the organization struggled to keep it afloat.

During a good part of his life, he stared, climbed and examined an deactivated mech which stood as if sleeping, fervently preserved by the people who worked in the base he lived in. He was told it was a frightening war machine, capable of soaring the skies or ravaging the land as well as fighting in deep space with agility unmatched by the lumbering spaceships. The metal machine was not only powerful, it was unique amidst its kind, the intricacy of its construction and its beauty unrivalled by the modern day mass-production mechs, the suit used with it exposed alongside the sleeping behemoth. A powerful relic of another time, as they said.

Unfortunately, their lack of specialists also meant the giant the size of a small building would stay out of combat for years as experts in the art of construction, maintenance and usage of mechs were rare, and none of them was their ally. Young Nathaniel decided it would be fun to explore and examine it, and spent a good part of his free time with the war machine, checking internals, examining control panels and religiously keeping each part free of dirt and signs of age.

By the time his formal education was nearing an end, Nathaniel finally found something which had been escaping him every single time he examined the mech's internals. A long line of seemingly vital circuits and cables had been gracefully disconnected, the plugs and pieces needed for its reactivation simply scattered in places only someone used to the machine could find them. After days of hard work, he was finally done, and the base woke up to the roar of an awakening beast as he reactivated the mech's systems and put them to run. The blue screens flashed its name in several languages, with Nathan noticing one he was able to understand: "Godsplitter", as well as taking note the internal reactors of the 'Splitter seemed to be unfazed by age and were working perfectly.

Hailed as a talent, his comrades were proud, expecting great things from him when the time came for him to join the frontlines. The happiness would not last, however. As the siege on the organization tightened, the location of the base he lived in was compromised. Given a "Schisma" order to disperse totally, the members of the group fled from the planet, and Nathaniel was given some money to keep himself and ordered to flee with the mech...which he did, stopping at a nearby space station to prepare his plans and get his bearings.

Traits:
-Mecha :: Godsplitter

Approved.

[Shootandrun]

How did I miss this?

How could such a failure happen?

Can I still take a planet, if I join?

[filiusenox]

How did I miss this?

How could such a failure happen?

Can I still take a planet, if I join?

Not by calling me or things I do a failure!

[Tiruin]

Erp, have to post in a sheet later on this post.

Will edit for it! Nope. Look further down.

[sayaks]

I've got to go to school now, but i have a question.

Would it be possible to be a Hive mind type being? Where i am the ruler with a psychic connection to all my leaders, and subjects. Influencing people, and directly controlling the leaders.
This would balance if i had to build psychic emitters the more people i ruled, but also almost eliminating the chances of revolution, and improving certain rolls.

And if an emitter got destroyed, then the people in that area would be free from control.

the IC reason for the Hive-mind would probably be that, the being was already there, and when humans settled there they came under his/her(its?) control.

what do you think?

[NUKE9.13]

I don't think that's a good idea.

There are a multitude of reasons why; suffice it to say that you'd probably be better of going back to the drawing board.

(-Mind controlling other players: NO.
-On the automatic kill-list of federal authorities: Bad idea
-Not capable of communicating as an individual: Problematic
-Humanity set up as the master race, this entity would contradict this.
-What would the goals of the entity be? Probably not feasible ones.
-I mean, you just wouldn't be accepted as an entity by the feds. They would nuke you from orbit if they ever found out about you. There is no reasonable way to explain your existence without being overpowered.)

Manufacture clones. Be the king of a lawless outskirts planet. Be a stigmatized AI. Be a scientist who just made a revolutionary and dangerous breakthrough. Be the leader of a race of homeless alien pirates. Lead a controversial political party.

[Shootandrun]

Not by calling me or things I do a failure!

I mean that missing the thread for such a long time was a failure. Must have been paying less attention to the forums than I ought to have recently.

[Ardas]

Hey, what is the strength of one regiment/fleet? Is it 1 or is it rated somehow different?
besides, mechs seem a bit OP. but thats just my opinion.

[NUKE9.13]

Hey, what is the strength of one regiment/fleet? Is it 1 or is it rated somehow different?
besides, mechs seem a bit OP. but thats just my opinion.

They have experimental hyper-core reactors which interface neural psychosignals into reactive metametals. Of course they are more powerful than an entire army. Have you never watched japanese cartoons?

Besides, a single mech is more expensive than it's weight in oranges, so, you know. You pay for what you get.