Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Fenrir]

Turn 1: An Unremarkable Beginning

The two of you sit at your stations in the wheelhouse as you wait for the cargo to be loaded. Your ship’s wheelhouse is toroidal in shape; the floor ascends to your left and your right. Through the thick windows, a curving horizon spins and bobs in and out of view as the wheelhouse rotates around the axis above your heads. Clouds streak across the blue surface of it, and the edge shines in the light of this system’s star.

Such a sight would evoke dizzying awe in those held in more terrestrial employment, and it inspired such in you during the first twenty deliveries you made, but now you lazily look over the screens in front of you. The Ministry of Interplanetary Shipping mandates a minimum crew of two on all superluminal freighters, but the process of docking, loading, and departing is entirely automated, so you entertain yourselves with the diversions offered by Internet and talk about how much better things must have been before she developed sentience in 2029.

You have about ten hours before all 24,275 tonnes of cargo are loaded.

Spoiler: Instructions (click to show/hide)

Standard RTD rules.


1 - Things got worse. Much worse.
2 - You failed, and the situation is a little worse for it.
3 - You failed, but it didn’t hurt to try.
4 - You succeeded in what you attempted.
5 - You succeeded in what you attempted, and a little more for the lavishing’s sake.
6 - So complete was your success that something extraordinary occurred, for good or ill.


Roleplay encouraged. Three players. Post no biographies, backstories, or character sheets.

Spoiler: Roster (click to show/hide)

Harry Baldman
mesor

[Harry Baldman]

"Man, I hate it when there's feckin' nothing to do. Back in the days of my great-great-grandpa, people didn't have to deal with this. It was WORK OR DIE, man. Work or die. Those were the days of real men. Now all these feckin' robots do all our work for us and we're gettin' complacent and stuff."

Beau stood up and shook his head.

"Feck this Internet nonsense. Imma go and get me a glass o' warm milk. Or nearest substitute, anyway."

Get a glass of warm milk or substitute.

[mesor]

Shrugs tiredly then follows and finds a can of coke

"It's always like this, we either have to much to do or to little."

[Harry Baldman]

"I know, right? It wouldn't be so bad, methinks, if there wasn't such a drastic change. I mean, one moment we're in full-on crunch mode with our asses on the line, next moment we hafta wait TEN FECKIN' HOURS sittin' on our thumbs. It's enough to drive a man mad. We aren't made to handle such contrasts is what I'm tryin' to say here."

[mesor]

"What should we do then? Much as I enjoy getting some time to relax I don't fancy sitting on my ass for 10 hours."

[Harry Baldman]

"Feck if I know. We'll see what we can find."

[Fenrir]

((This may not be a good idea, but I’ll get things going before the third player shows up so you can do more with your roleplay. You have ten hours, after all.))

Turn 1.5: Refreshments

Get a glass of warm milk or substitute.

[6] The galley is further down the interior of the toroid. Only a change in apparatus distinguishes it from the wheelhouse, which you can still see if you look up to the port side. There is a table and a counter or two, but the galley is commanded by the foodsynth. It is a large appliance with a little screen and a compartment that could house a medium-sized dog if you cared to do something cruel. The foodsynth accepts your order for warm milk, and, after a few hums and crackles, you take your glass of warm milk out of the compartment. It is surprisingly good for foodsynth milk.

The feminine voice of your link says “Message received,” warmly. Your link is clipped to your left ear as your constant connection to all sapient life on Internet, which is most of it.

Shrugs tiredly then follows and finds a can of coke

[6] It was lucky to get a decent glass of milk, but it’s a miracle to find a foodsynth that has the recipe and the materials to synth a can of Coca Cola Classic. It is almost astonishing that this machine seems to have made a delicious can of it. One can’t be sure if this is how the original tasted, but, if not, this is how it should have tasted.

[mesor]

Walk around looking for something interesting to do, drink my coke. (( Roll for drinking to please I wanna see what happens . ))

"Hmm wonder if anything interesting is going on around here, theirs a first time for everything right? Right?"

[Harry Baldman]

Beau cracked a mile-wide smile as he took a delighted sip at the warm milk.

"Best feckin' thing in the world. I love this foodsynth, man. I love it."

His face immediately shifts to a look of vague disgust as his link pipes up. He does a mocking imitation of the voice in his ear.

"Ooh, message received, message received! Message, my feckin' arse. Feck your message, I've got better things to do. Blasted feckers can't even leave a man alone to enjoy a rare treat in life."

Beau takes another sip, but there is no joy in his eyes, only weariness. This slowly transitions to a defeated look as he sets the milk down on the table.

"Pah, might as well see what it is. Feckers ruined the moment anyway. Probably some pointless shite, to add another layer of insult to the feckin' thing."

Check the message.

[Fenrir]

((I’ll leave things suspended until someone else signs up.))

I am bored and impatient, so you have been retconned into two people. Turn in progress.

[Harry Baldman]

((Maybe add a third one when they sign up and a suitable story opportunity opens up? After all, there's ten frickin' hours. Any number of things can happen during that time.))

[Fenrir]

Turn 2: Improbable

Walk around looking for something interesting to do, drink my coke. (( Roll for drinking to please I wanna see what happens . ))

[6] You suddenly feel a surge of mirth and vitality. It did not work the last time you tried it, and it has not worked for anyone that has ever tried, but you feel like you could woo Internet. It would certainly pass the time.

Check the message.

[6] “Show it to me, motherfecker.” Your link quietly complies.


Sender: Withheld

I am willing to pay you a negotiable sum of money for deviating
from your scheduled course. Interested?

[mesor]

Woo the internet!!!!!

[Harry Baldman]

Beau strokes his barely-existent chin for a second, then thinks of a reply.

Sender: Beau McIntyre

That entirely depends on the deviation, the sum and the negotiability.

Send message.

He takes out the link from his ear after sending the message and strolls over to his partner. This seemed like something that really needed revealing.

"Hey, ol' buddy, ol' pal, I just got a message from some anonymous fecker and boy, it's the feckin' shadiest thing I've ever heard in my life. This gobshite, ya see, he, or she, I dunno, offers me a "negotiable sum of money" for a "deviation from my scheduled course". Now, my first impulse here was to refuse, contractual purity and all, but I decided to try and find out more about the bloody fecker first. What do you think about this?"

((What's your character's name, by the way? Seems like something that would be useful and logical for Beau to know.))

[Fenrir]

Woo the internet!!!!!

[1] Not five sentences pass between you before Internet is extraordinarily angry. She is refusing to speak to you, so it seems you won’t have the luxury of her services for an unknown amount of time.

Send message.

It could be seconds to hours before you receive a reply. In this age, information travels no faster than ships over the wider distances, and inhabited space is vast.

Fortunately, it is only a few seconds before you get your answer.


You’ll receive a destination upon acceptance, adding no more than 8 hours to your travel time. 2 µBTC on delivery.


Two whole µBTC? You could buy your own freighter for that much.