CALAMITY BEGIN
Ship Class: [4] = Imperial Freighter
Calamity Class: [6] = Collision
The four of you are temporary crewmembers on a freighter belonging to the Imperial Navy, shipping military supplies of some sort to some far-off conflict. Unbeknownst to you, an incorrectly-placed decimal point in the warp drive's co-ordinate programming have resulted in an unmitigated disaster - the ship has emerged from FTL space on a direct collision course with a planetoid, with no obvious way to redirect or cancel the forward velocity carrying the ship to its doom. Needless to say, your craft isn't constructed for atmospheric maneuvers, so conditions will become decidedly more lethal the closer your ship gets to its demise. The ship's escape pods can fortunately survive atmospheric flight, but don't leave it too long before launching them, or else you'll likely still hit the ground at well above terminal velocity anyway.
Name: Frank
Background: Frank is a welder. And that's it.
Special skill: Welding
[4] You're working as a contracted engineer, and this flight was meant to be your last before the end of the contract - although, to be fair, it could still end up being your last anyway. Currently, you're in the engineering bay - you were just working on some post-warp sub-light engine preparations before the alarms started blaring. You're armed with the access level typical of a rank-and-file engineer, and a toolbelt containing just about everything you'd need to fix (or break) the ship's various system.
Name: Drank
Background: Drank is a Spacemagic-researcher, Thats about it.
Special Skill: Space magic
[2] Your delving into the depths of knowledge regarding space-magic often takes you to far-flung locations, and this situation is no different - at least, it wasn't any different before the alarms started going off. It's important to note, you recall, that you're not strictly meant to be here - the Imperial Navy wasn't interested in allowing you to hitch a lift to your destination, so instead, you took it upon your own initiative to stow away. Presently, you're somewhere in the cargo bay - or, more precisely, somewhere inside a crate somewhere inside the cargo bay. It's far too dark to see anything, and you think you might've pulled a muscle in your back. You've got precious few possessions on your person to speak of - just your trusty lab uniform, some basic tools for detecting the presence of space-magic, and a pen-light.
Name:Klue Wallskiier
Background: A hydro-tamer from Tempuare-Ah Tatuinne, learning how to be a Iddej use a mystical power called the Friction.
Special Skill: Using the Friction on objects, slowing them down and heating them up at the same time.
[6] Though you consider yourself an apprentice in the art, the Imperial representative who observed one of your recent training sessions in the use of 'The Friction' was most impressed by your abilities, claiming that none like them had ever been observed within Imperial space before. It turned out that he was a high-ranking naval official soon due to be dispatched to a far-off area of conflict, and it was his belief that in the service of the Empire, your abilities could turn the tide of whatever war was being waged. As such, you were bundled off into the first-class passenger deck of the Imperial freighter currently bound for a ten-thousand-kilometre-per-second landing on the surface of an undocumented planetoid. Most of the crew seems to be either happy to help you or too scared of you to defy you, so if you've no interest in fixing the situation, getting to the escape pods shouldn't be too much of a hassle. You've got relatively little on your person, other than your robes, your all-access ID card and a few personal affects and snacks.
Name: Bracken
Background: Bracken is a alcoholic engineering Engineer
Special skill: Electrical engineering
[1] You've been a faithful member of the Navy's engineering team for a good few years now, so you're understandably upset that they've decided to confine you to the brig for the duration of your flight. Sure, you might've accidentally spilled beer on the warp calculation computer in your last drunken attempt to 'optimise' it, and maybe that might've contributed a tiny bit to the ongoing crisis you're now aware of, but still! You expected better treatment, even despite the three members of the security staff you stabbed with a broken bottle during your attempt to escape the scene. All the same, as things stand, you're stuck in a now-abandoned brig cell (seems like all the guards are going for the escape pods) with nothing to your name except your jumpsuit... oh, and also the screwdriver you smuggled in. Don't ask.