"Ok, so what exactly is the plan again?"
The room seems to groan, 105 people have been packed into a room built for half that for over an hour now. Tempers are short.
The man standing on the cafeteria table at the head of the crowd hangs his head for a second, then rallies, eyes clear. "Alright, people. It's simple. We're going to show up tomorrow, we're going to strap on our gear, and we're gonna head right to the people that killed our own. We are going to make it clear to them that we will not stand for this any more. They can't just replace us as soon as something goes wrong. Who in here has lost friends in the last year?" Dozens of hands go up.
"That's right! They don't give a shit about us, just the bottom line. So that's what we do, we don't work. We stand and face them, and make them look us in the face, as equals! Back in the twentieth century, coal miners did the same damn thing. They froze production until Thatcher relented. It worked then, and it will work now. Your group leaders have everything else you need to know." The room is electric, his optimism and charisma are infectious.
He holds up a hand, and the room quiets. "Now, before we go, lets all just have a moment of silence for Hubert Andrews, Nathan White, and Melinda Jackson, the workers who died in yesterdays blast. Our hearts go out to you and your team, Edwin."
Eyes turn towards you, hats are tipped, a comforting hand or two brushes your shoulder. You nod, uncomfortable.
"Good luck tomorrow, everyone! Victory for the miners!" The cry spreads around the room quickly, and soon "Victory to the Miners!" is everywhere. It's exhilarating. The crowd soon begins to thin, and you see Paul, your second in command, strolling towards you. He breaks into a smile.
"Victory to the miners, eh? Hell of a speech that man can do. Here, he asked you to give me this." He passes you a large envelope "Marching orders, I guess. Well, so ends the first ever Miner's Union of Asteroid Eb273, local 1. I mean hell, we called a strike on our first day, pretty productive right?" He flashes you a sad smile "Too bad they had to die for it though, ya know? Martinez is taking it especially hard, I think, she was close with Melinda. Keep an eye, eh? Anyway, I've got to be going. I'll see you around." He walks away from you, leaving you standing there.
Your head reels with the events of the last few days, your team, usually 11 people, quickly cut down to 8 by a "Freak Accident" that could have easily been prevented. The charismatic blonde green-eyed man who had quickly jumped on the opportunity, organizing the teams into a union and calling a strike, a march, even. And now it was up to you to let your team that they wouldn't be working tomorrow, maybe not even for a long time. Not payed either, it looked like. You sigh, running a hand through your hair.
12 hours till the strike. What do you do now?
(A simple suggestion game, hopefully progressing into something interesting. I've got a basic progression planned, but it's up to you guys, of course.)