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[Vivalas]

Stranded Among Stars
An Aurora 4x AAR / Let’s Play

They called it paradise. An escape from the crime ridden, ramine-ravished hell that used to be called Earth. Everyone saw the writing in the walls, the propaganda and warmongering among all the world governments—and only a few had any idea what to do. Everyone else was scared shitless. Everyone had their nose too goddamn buried in their phones to see that one misplaced atomic bomb could put the notion of diplomacy down the shitter.

While the geopolitical landscape was taking a nice big dump in the toilet bowl that used to be called world peace, academia had other ideas. And it just so happened, as a masterful display of the universe’s irony, that when humanity was on the slippery slope to global nuclear annihilation, we were finally taking our first real steps into space.

Alfred Ritchmann. The genius and hero of the 21st century. From his humble beginnings as a financially broken pre-doctoral student from Texas A&M University, he took an unexpected leap onto the world stage when he published his doctoral thesis: a dissertation on Trans-Newtonian mechanics. The scientific community was split. A large majority of scientists thought he was a crackpot, while another majority pointed out his findings and conclusions were completely valid, while the remainder had no idea what the hell to think. Now me? I’m no fucking genius, but I was once in my life one helluva Star Trek fan, and fuck it, if they said I could leave the poverty ridden hellhole that was my previous life behind on a possible suicide mission across the stars… what did I have to lose?

The United Nations, among all the shit-throwing and name-calling happening among the major world leaders, scraped together enough funding for an emergency expedition. The few neutral parties that could spare money for the project could see the importance of it, as even the most optimistic foreign analyst couldn’t see any path away from war after Miami bit the dust. In the most metaphorical fucking statement I think I can spare the intelligence to compose, it truly was, “too late to apologize”, when 11 million people were dead and nobody knew who to blame.

And thus, the Icarus Project began. And what a fitting fucking name that is. But we only had one chance to escape what was happening on Earth, and if we got too cocky about what we were doing, our wings would indeed have melted off our backs and left us grounded on that doomed rock.

Now, we escaped of course. And what a fucking ceremony that was. The media spared a few moments away from the balls-to-the-walls shitshow of geopolitical affairs to let the world see what may have been humanity’s last hope, to take a certifiable leap of faith into the stars, not knowing what it is we were looking for, or what it was we were leaving behind.

I’m being a bit dramatic, of course. Scientists organized a huge global effort during the construction of Icarus to find the best possible candidate for a habitable system among the cosmos, and find it they did. Maybe it’s not surprising some of astronomy’s greatest achievement happened under the pressure of imminent cleansing by nuclear fire, but I’m certainly glad they found what they were looking for. And so it was proclaimed, our new home, Tau Ceti, a paradise away from Earth, and the closest thing to salvation for mankind.

And… that’s about as much as anyone knows after that. The last thing most people, myself included, remember, is going into cryosleep a few hours before launch. Icarus was absolutely massive. The largest and most complex vehicle ever created. As if astronomers didn’t work well under pressure, it’s no surprise that engineers are glorified gibbons when given an impossible deadline. But put the smartest people in the world together in one room and tell em they have an indeterminate amount of time to save humanity, well, miracles happen.

But miracles are miracles, and a rushed project is still a rushed project, and the next thing most people remember is being woken up to the piercing scream of sirens. Cliché, right? It was like a fucking movie—except it wasn’t a fucking movie, and a lot of people died. About 17 million, to be exact. From what the authorities told us, the Icarus took a direct hit to the bow from a meteoroid, something it should have been able to survive, but the engineers didn’t account for the orbital motion of the spacecraft while it was in low orbit—and moving quite fast. I was one of the lucky ones. The cryobay I was in filled with smoke from the aft, and then started losing air. Among the hundreds of cryopods around me that didn’t even open, most of the other colonists went towards the closest escape pod—which by another ironic twist of fate, was located right on one of the fracture points of the ship when it broke apart in the atmosphere. Had I not been impatient to the point of running into the smoke and away from the closest escape pod bay, I wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Now, it was all going great up until this point. I had gotten away from Earth, and all the misery it carried with it. Sure, I almost died when the Icarus got shafted by a space rock… but I escaped. No, my friend, the turning point in this otherwise dark and humorous monologue is when my escape pod touched down. Ever read Lord of the Flies? A dark and tragic story, no doubt. But they had warmth… air… and they were, to start, all innocent children.

Now, take that story, but change the scene to a barren, icy, frozen fucking wasteland. So cold your fucking piss freezes before it leaves your body. And instead of 20 or so children, your company is 500 or so people who have nothing to lose. Oh, and you only have about 24 hours before life support dies, because the pod was only designed for 200, there is probably even less food, and only about 40 spacesuits. No, by all accounts this was survival on steroids. If Darwin had never been able to pop a fucking hardon before, he definitely had a hardon for how fucking intensely natural selection fucking selected against the weak on that day.

I’m a man of morals, and always will be. I’ve never murdered someone in cold blood, but I had never murdered anyone at all before touchdown. At first it was chaos, people were still scared shitless from what had happened aboard the Icky, but then the more hardened and astute began to realize what situation we were all in. People had mixed reactions. Some began to try to lead, trying to organize people and calm everyone down. Others just panicked, while even more rushed around trying to look outside or look for supplies. But among all this, the bad apples were free to exploit and do whatever they pleased. The only law among us at that point was the law of dominance. Ever ridden a plane before? Know how they do that safety brief nobody cares about? Well I have always cared about those, and they did the same during our initiation week before boarding the ship. I knew exactly were the spacesuits were, and I knew exactly where the exterior airlocks were, and I was about ready to grab a survival kit and get the hell out of there.

But I did kill my first man that day. I am a man of morals and principles, so when I saw a mother being raped in front of her kids, I was outraged, even more so that nobody has bothered to help her out of their own selfishness. I don’t know whatever happened to the poor woman after that, because I only had one spacesuit, but I do know that the men who had been lining up behind the cocksucking piece of shit that had violated her weren’t there when I was done with him.

Now, before I explain just how the hell I managed to make it to the point where I can write about this whole shitshow, you need to know a little bit more about me. My name is Jonas. Jonas Jonesberg, or Jon-Jon for short, if you like getting my fist in your face. I’ve never been much into math or academics or any of that shit. I will say I gave college a shot once when I had my GI bill, but I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. Yes, I am ex-military. Does this story seem even more cliché now? Probably. No, absolutely, but that doesn’t make it any less true. If there is one thing you had better damned pay attention to when you are in basic, it’s the survival bullshit. Turns out cold-as-balls is still just cold-as-balls even if it makes Alaska look like a fucking sauna, but hell, the same techniques apply.

Now this planet has water, but it’s too damn cold for there to be any real weather, so everything is just a solid sheet of 1-2” thin ice, on top of solid rock. Not quite Alaska, but it’s a start. Neither the spacesuit or survival kit were meant for these conditions, but I had to make do with what I had. Now—

Jonas looked up from his computer when he heard the knock. Two knocks. “Fuck.”, Jonas said, looking at his watch. “It’s oh-dark-fucking-thirty, what the hell does anyone want at this hour?”, he begrudged angrily as he made his way to the front door of his flat.

Set about 3 inches deep into the protocrete wall of the housing unit, his titanium door was the only safeguard between the comfort of Jonas’ home, and the “half-cocked, triple-baked, insane fucking world”, as he liked to call it. He palmed the pressure sensor set into the control pad to the door’s right, and it slid open to reveal something he definitely did not want to see at this hour: a uniformed man.

On September 22, 2082, the UNCV Icarus crash landed on Tau Ceti III, now known as “New Earth”. Out of the 120 million colonists on board, only 103 million survived as of the original census reports. The colony ship was struck by what is approximated to be a 20m diameter meteoroid about 1km off center to the right of the keel. The resulting structural failure, flash fires, and decompression of various parts of the spacecraft killed 201 out of the 500 crew (who were rotated on 1 month watches in and out of cryosuspension) and approximately 17 million colonists. Among those lost in the accident was Hans Morgann, Expedition Secretary; John Roberts, Commander, Peacekeeping Forces ICARUS; United Nations Liason Mei Chan, Captain Jeremy Muir, UNCV Icarus, and many other delegates and officials from sponsoring countries. The ship suffered severe internal and system damage throughout the impact path of the asteroid, causing communication loss across the ship and power loss to many vital areas, including the command bridge and all auxiliary bridges. 17 minutes away from re-entering the atmosphere, the remainder of the crew attempted in vain to manually reverse the trajectory of the spacecraft to a stable orbit, but were unable to. 2 minutes before re-entry, the Executive Officer, Franklin Smith, made a decision: open the cryopods.

Official command doctrine in the case of emergency during reentry was to brace the ship and double check all seals and ride the ship down. The Icarus was designed to have multiple breakpoints with reinforced seals in the case of a botched re-entry trajectory to allow the ship to break apart in more structurally sound areas and remain intact for the duration of the landing process. However, unable to accurately assess the scope of the damage, and unsure of the status of his Chief Engineer, or any of the few damage control parties on board, then Acting Captain Smith decided to breach protocol and wake the colonists so they could attempt to make it to the secondary escape / re-entry modules. Whether or not he exacerbated the situation or saved millions of people is still debated today, but it is clear that a lot of the carnage that followed touchdown was a result of the thousands of segmented landing zones across the planet.

During re-entry, the Icarus split into 3 parts, as it was designed to do so. However, the bow compartment, due to extensive damage from the meteoroid, almost completely disintegrated during reentry when a number of center supports imploded. Only about 30000 people survived in the forward compartment as a result of compression of most of the bow into a chunk of metal that shielded several interior compartments that is was crushed around. This compartment, known solemnly as the Mummer’s Coffin, was found 1 month after impact, buried 200 ft under the ground, with only a small community of 1300 people left remaining. After impact, and unable to escape to the surface, the 30000 colonists stuck in the Mummer’s Coffin became part of a horrible and impromptu social experiment as anarchy led to gangs, cannibalism, horrific genocide, and mass murder that ended in a cannibalistic matriarchal monarchy when rescue operations finally drilled through the rock and thick compressed metal from above.

The middle compartment survived mostly intact, albeit landing upside down with severe damage to the top decks. This is where the majority of the surviving colonists ended up. The middle compartment is the only compartment of the ship that had a surviving chain of command, along with a full regiment of UN Peacekeepers to enforce order. Colonel-General Shelia Beranek and Mission Undersecretary Jesse Charon were able to establish law and order and coordinate operations to begin the settlement of New Earth, exploration of surrounding regions, and search and rescue of all other missing colonists.
The aft compartment didn’t fare as well as the middle. Structural flaws in the integrated breakpoints between the aft and middle compartments lead to shear stress that ripped open bulkheads and multiple chunks of the aft compartment clear off of the main structure. The aft compartment is where the majority of the cargo and colony infrastructure was stored, and without any military forces to establish order, the 50 million or so colonists in the aft compartment that survived re-entry also descended into anarchy, although not to the extent of the Mummer’s Coffin. After the initial chaos and infighting, two main groups emerged. One group, who called themselves the Saints of Icarus, attempted to establish law and order to protect the weak and innocent. While successful at first, it eventually devolved into a tyrannical and authoritarian dictatorship that began enslaving the weak and conscripting the strong and dumb. The other group, known as the Free Men, were opposed to order and control but were raucous brigands who had similar struggles involving their leadership. Eventually, they disbanded into multiple gangs who roved among the outer debris fields and joined up with the Outlanders.

The Icarus Mission started with 120 million colonists. Of these, approximately 15 million died when the bow compartment catastrophically failed, and the other 2 million deaths were attributed to fighting, decompression, and damage to the middle and rear compartments. Approximately 3 million colonists landed by emergency re-entry vehicle, effectively escape pods, each with a safe capacity of around 200. Most of these were overpacked, leading to catastrophic failure on landing, as well as mass unrest. Around 2600 landing vehicles in total landed on the surface, and soon formed bands of “Outlanders”, as they were called by the colonists in the compartments. The landing path was largely elliptical, with pods landing all around the main compartments, with some as far as 700km away. Individual groups and entities formed among the Outlanders, forming all sorts of governments, from nomads who roamed for salvage and ripe pods, to people who attempted to form nations of proximate pods, to groups of bandits who simply attacked the unprotected. Eventually dissident groups from the aft compartment mixed with the Outlanders and strengthened them, to the point that they could be a threat to the law and order of the central compartment zone if they banded together.

The leadership of the central zone recognized this threat, and began training and building a military large enough to defend the small region of settlements that they had formed around the central crash site, as well as to strike and liberate other regions if possible. The main priority, however, was gaining control of the resources and supplies of the aft compartment, which would have been enough to build a municipality among the central districts and solidify UN control over the colonization of New Earth.
While most of the colonists had originally left Earth for a better future, now they realized they had control of that future, and many did not want to join or follow the directives of the United Nations Colonial Administration, the impromptu bureaucracy that had been formed by the remainder of the UN personnel and military forces. While the standard of life was not terrible, the central settlements were crowded and crime had a visible presence. Many were angry with some of the corrupt practices of the many local administrators installed by the Colonial Administration, and others just wanted to form their own societies and start anew.

For the next two decades, the UNCA struggled to maintain control over its assets and to project its power over the dispersed assets of the Icarus mission. UNCA leadership did not view it as a feat of military prowess or conquest but rather a necessary measure in order to further the charter of the mission and establish a unified and just civilization on New Earth. Skirmishes between UN peacekeeping forces and external groups were numerous and costly. While the peacekeepers were in general better trained and more organized than the outlanders and bandits, they lacked the supplies and logistical situation a trained and professional military was used to working with, and almost all of their enemies took up guerilla warfare to fully exploit this to their advantage. While the surface of New Earth lacked any organic life, or hydrography, the terrain was varied, with mountains and ravines equally present across the crash zone, making guerilla warfare and ambushes effective against the pitched battle tactics the peacekeepers were trained in using. Unable to both seize and occupy the territory and settlements of the outlanders and bandit groups, the peacekeepers turned their attention to the unified settlements of the Saints, which included the resources of the aft compartment. While the Secretariat undertook negotiations with diplomats and envoys from the saints, the military forces of the UNCA began planning a surprise assault on New Jerusalem, the capital of the Saints of Icarus.

War. War never changes.

On April 1, 2091, about 9 years after touchdown, the UNCA launched its assault on New Jerusalem. The armies of the Saints were caught by surprise, but were mostly already at heightened readiness. Intense battle lasted for 3 months in and around the capital, until a spearhead assault lead gallantly by Colonel Rickie Dombkowski broke through the front lines and pushed all the way to the capital itself, a sprawling fortress built in and around the hulk of the aft compartment. While unable to hold the capital by themselves, the resulting upset allowed other UN forces to maneuver and cut off key supply lines, effectively encircling portions of the Saints’ armies, causing some to surrender and some to retreat to a position northwest of New Jerusalem, a settlement known as Grace. For the next 6 months, fighting stalemated in and around New Jerusalem, with a constant tug of war leading to both sides trading control of the fortress city. Even with the fortified advantage of New Jerusalem, the peacekeeping forces of the Colonial Administration were unable to effectively hold the walls due to deteriorating morale, lack of supply, and the Saint’s own knowledge of the secrets and weakpoints of the city’s defenses. In August of 2092, an armistice was signed between the two powers. While the armies regrouped and dug in—with the UNCA having final control of the city, the Saints and the UNCA came to an agreement. The UNCA would turn over control of New Jerusalem to the Saints of Icarus, provided most of the equipment and infrastructure of the original Icarus mission was returned to them.

The current date is January 1, 2100. New Years celebrations herald the beginning of the 22nd century. Nothing is known about the state of the human population on Earth, but it is assumed that nuclear war followed the departure of the Icarus mission, based on preliminary atmospheric analysis of Earth from rudimentary observatories on New Earth. As far as we know it, we are all that is left. Humans have finally took the fateful leap: the grand space opera begins now, as predicted by our ancestors. Will we fail, falter, annihilate ourselves again, or can we reach agreement and turn our eyes, hearts, and attention to the void that still presses in and suffocates us?

We truly are, Stranded Among Stars.


Hey there. To ward off all the hype I have for Aurora C#, I've decided to do something I've never really had time for: An Aurora Let's Play. My previous attempt to run an Aurora Let's Play on this site failed, since I didn't have enough time and wasn't interested in the micro of running the game. This time I'm doing something a little bit different.

It's not a game, per se, in the arms race type format I tried before, but more of an interactive story. It's not an RPG or anything, but more of a choose your own adventure. At certain points in the LP I'll probably open characters to be controlled by players, where their decisions can have an impact on the overall story. While in my previous attempt it was a game built on top of the mechanics of Aurora, this is more of a story, written by myself and the players with the help of Aurora as an interpreter. The focus will be more on the story and my own nuanced take of interactions in the world, so it will be much less mechanic heavy and direct references to game mechanics / screenshots of abstract things like tech or mining probably won't be incorporated much, if at all.

Where will this go? I'm not entirely sure. The more and more I wrote the less and less I felt Aurora was applicable, but I want there to be that extra dimension to the world, where the endeavors of the colonists of New Earth can venture into the cosmos and bring their conflicts there.

I don't want to organize this too heavily or lay down rules and mechanics and what not, but it might be cool to more directly involve the players in the future. In short, this is just a free-flow sci fi experience, think a role playing game, but with zero character choice and much more scope. A true and definitive space opera.

The basic flow at first will be me building on the story and slowly advancing time along with the story. Along the way, I might open key characters to player control. This could be anyone from a high ranking government official, or a talented low ranking protagonist, but the purpose is to add interaction, depth, and life to the world. There isn't any regularly scheduled update interval or anything like that, since I am a college student with limited time and resources, but if I have to go for an extended period of time I would probably leave notice first.

About player involvement, if players did get in control of certain people who are in charge of things, it would definitely be cool to help build the world along with me. This could be something such as writing proclamations or designing uniforms, to such things as minor politics and screaming at others in council. Again, while I'm not sure where I want to go and because I think a dedicated role playing game would be beyond my capacity, having a fully fledged bureaucracy with guidelines and players at every level would be interesting, as an example, but not a definite end goal.

Of course, if you want to contribute art or any other creative critique/ decision, please feel free to do so! The more flashy the better, and if people like my writing enough to do things like that, I would be thilled!

And lastly, about the focus. It will mainly be on the UNAC, to start. What happens from that point on / what factions and nations form is up to the course of the let's play, and focus may shift around, but at least to start the Saints of Icarus are "antagonists". Since, again, this isn't in arms race format, I won't make another thread for that, but if you are interested in perhaps secretly playing characters in the SOI to stir things up or have a different perspective, PM me. Everything will be in story format, so events you cause will be written out fully but not published until later on in the story where any influence they might have on other player's decisions is irrelevant or no longer meta.

[Vivalas]

Summary (April 22, 2103)

Map:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Saints of Icarus:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Government:

Type: Theocratic Despotic Monarchy

Centralization: Heavy

Heirarchy: (WIP)


Overlord: His Highness Brandon Faulkner

Archminister: Archduke Jonah Phaeron

Lord Marshal: Duchess Jessica Lambert

Meister: Count Sigusmand Anar

Artificer: Mitchell Baxter


Status:

General:

Military Power: Worrisome
Economic Strength: Stagnant
Internal Stability: Stable
Popular Approval: Virtually Nonexistent

Government:

Efficiency: Productive
Corruption: Mild
Dissent: Minimal
Loyalty: Very Loyal

Economy:

Productivity: Wanting
Resources: Lacking
Taxation: Heavy
Freedom: Minimal Free Enterprise

Population:

Growth: Stagnant
Happiness: Unhappy
Wealth: Impoverished
Loyalty: None

Units:
(WIP)

Technology:
(WIP)

Designs:
(WIP)

United Nations Colonial Administration:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Government:

Type: Idealistic Interim Bureaucracy

Centralization: Medium

Heirarchy: (WIP)


General Administrator: Jesse Charon

Colonel-General of Security Forces: Colonel-General Sheila Baranek

Secretary of Colonial Civil Administration: Laquita Welsh

Research Advisor: Dr. Ervin Allinder


Status:

General:

Military Power: Sufficient
Economic Strength: Growing
Internal Stability: Uneasy
Popular Approval: Satisfied

Government:

Efficiency: Wasteful
Corruption: Prominent
Dissent: Slight
Loyalty: Loyal

Economy:

Productivity: Nominal
Resources: Satisfied
Taxation: Slight
Freedom: Socialist-centric Free Enterprise

Population:

Growth: Growing
Happiness: Content
Wealth: Some Luxuries
Loyalty: Inspired

Units:
(WIP)

Technology:
(WIP)

Designs:
(WIP)

Playable Characters:
Major Glen Ackimo - [UNCA, UNCA Security Forces, Colonial Intelligence Agency, 16th Division - Senior Analyst / Field Operative] - vacant

Waitlist:
Empty

Summary / Timeline:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

(WIP)

-To request a character be playable, simply discuss in the thread. There aren't any guarantees, and they also don't have to be a named character. If you want a perspective of the game from, say, a miner in a foreign backwater colony, you could ask for that too. You can also pitch character ideas if you think they would enhance the story (they don't necessary have to be playable).

-To ask to be on the waitlist, discuss in the thread as well. People in the waitlist will have precedence over those not in the waitlist when new characters are opened up (unless it was specifically requested by another person, such as in the procedures outlined above)

[Vivalas]

Overview
Tau Ceti:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The system overview of Tau Ceti. Tau Ceti has may gas giants and only two terrestrial planets. However, all the gas giants have some number of moons, some large enough to feasibly hold human populations. New Earth also has a very small moon locked in its orbit.

New Earth:

United Nations Colonial Administration

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Founded on the principles of the Icarus Charter, the UNCA is a monolithic bureaucracy that would make a cumbersome Earth government jealous. The surviving UN forces banded  together after the Impact to establish order and create a government. While successful, the Colonial Administration decreased in effectiveness overtime, as corruption and inefficiency hindered efforts to rebuild and unify with other New Earth factions.

After a successful military campaign against the Saints of Icarus, the UNCA now stands closer than ever to its goal of establishing complete control of New Earth and leading humanity forward. However, multiple internal forces seek to undermine what the UNCA has accomplished, from robber barons who attempt to infiltrate government to monopolize the fledgling proto-capitalist economy, libertarians who seek a less invasive central government with more political freedoms, to rebels and zealots who simply despise any sort of control and want the final human experiment to be one of anarchy and chaos.

UNCA territory spans about 60% of the civilized zone on New Earth, and is comprised of a few dispersed urban centers and other smaller outposts and rural outcroppings on the periphery.  Aptly named, Landing Point is the seat of the UNCA, where most of the government administrative facilities and military installations are located. The economy of the UNCA is a hybrid capitalist / socialist system, where most amenities are provided to urban areas by the government and private firms help fill in the gaps in industry and resource collection. In order to maintain order with its very limited resources, the UNCA maintains low tax rates and otherwise forgoes economic burdens on its citizens to help suppress dissent. As a result the military and police forces are spread thin, and outside of the urban centers crime and terrorism are not uncommon.

Within the cities, the UNCA borders on being a complete police state, with rigorous checks and searches on any people entering or leaving the cities. Security is tight and police are heavily armed, yet crime still continues to thrive within the mazelike tunnels, hallways, and habdomes of the cities. The government itself is a bureaucratic oligarchy, with political freedoms tightened down and advancement mostly consisting of internal promotion. The UNCA is split into precincts, with elected representatives serving more of an oversight and advisory position than one of legislation and administration. The UNCA maintains its political system despite the democratic roots of the countries that sponsored it in favor of helping maximize efficiency without partisan meddling. Most leaders within the Administration view establishing control of New Earth a higher priority than the moral calling of democratic government.  Once the UNCA achieves unification of New Earth, it has promised to fully enact the Icarus Charter and reform the government into a more representative system, but many people are skeptical of its true intentions. 

After growing and stabilizing enough to have a sustainable economy and a sufficiently low crime rate, after the war the UNCA began investing in a space program, keen on furthering its interests by exploring the Tau Ceti system and strengthening itself to be able to fight the Saints. After a few years, the first shipyards are ready to begin constructing the prototype spacecraft designed by the UNCA's research division. Once again humans prepare to take to the stars, for better or worse.

Government

General Administrator: Jesse Charon
Elected by the Administrative Council, the General Administrator is the chief executive of the UNCA. Responsible for all internal and external matters, it lies to them, in conjunction with agreement from the Council, to create and execute policy to further the Administration's interests. The General Administrator holds the power of veto over the council and handles the appointments of all top officials, is the commander in chief of the military forces, is responsible for managing foreign affairs, and is responsible for presiding over Council meetings.

Colonel-General of Security Forces: Colonel-General Sheila Baranek
The Colonel-General of Security Forces is the XO of all military forces under the UNCA, under the General Administrator. Oversight and operational command is usually always delegated to the C/G and they are typically responsible for all matters of security and defense. The Security Forces of the UNCA include the Colonial Milita, the main military arm of the UNCA; the Colonial Security Administration, the main law enforcement branch; and the Colonial Intelligence Agency, the main military and domestic intelligence agency.

Secretary of Colonial Civil Administration: Trista Viviani
The Secretary of Colonial Civil Administration is responsible for oversight of all internal affairs of the UNCA. They are in charge of managing the UNCA's urban centers, infrastructure, and allocating its economic resources appropriately. The Department of Colonial Civil Administration heads other sub departments including but not limited to Treasury, Customs Enforcement, Energy, and Commerce.

Research Advisor: Dr. Ervin Allinder
The Research Advisor is the direct scientific surrogate to the Administrative Council and is also responsible for the operations of state-sponsored research projects. Tasked with directing scientific pursuit by the UNCA and advising the Council on issues of academic relevance, the Research Advisor is a powerful voice among a group of people already fully aware of the consequences of scientific ignorance.

The Administrative Council is responsible for confirming appointments and promotion within the UNCA, and is advised by the Council of Representatives, who can overrule the Administrative Council when acting in a large, definitive majority.

Landing Point is the largest city in the UNCA, containing about 30 million people, about 50% of the UNCA's population. Road networks and underground tunnel systems connect Landing Point to other large urban centers and settlements in the UNCA. A large underground transit network is under construction with the intent of allowing cheap access to anywhere in the Administration's jurisdiction. Surface conditions otherwise make transit and logistical operations challenging, as mobility in the extremely cold, icy, and rocky terrain is a challenge. Other cities within the UNCA include Liberty, a city of 9 million near the center of UNCA, built around facilitating trade and power to the rest of the UNCA, while also being notable for being the seat of many criminal syndicates; Freedom, a military / industrial hub of about 2 million in the northwest; and Prosperity, a city located on the fringes of the Abyssal Flatlands in the southeast corner of the UNCA, host to the UNCA's space program, which slowly acquired a bustling urban population around it as industry and business moved to the area.

The UNCA's military forces are recovering from the war but consist of a few divisions of conventional military forces stationed in outposts strategically placed around the UNCA. The military headquarters is located in Landing Point, where the main supply depot ships supplies out to depots in other cities, and most of the military forces are trained. Battered and battle hardened, the Colonial Militia has a tradition of fierce perseverance, devotion, and incredible ingenuity due to the extreme nature of their logistical situation and their dominant landscape.

Overall, the infrastructure and level of wealth within the UNCA is low, but better so than that of their main rival, the Saints of Icarus. Standard of living is nothing to brag about, but people get by with the ability to indulge in luxuries every once in a while. Most towns are cobbled together from landing pods, shipping containers, salvaged heating units, and ramshackle insulated shacks. Innovation in makeshift heating units and habitation structures has allowed affordable expansion and life support, with many cheap and innovative techniques existing for constructing heated and insulated structures from the gutted remains of debris and machinery that was in abundance after the crash. The economy is modest but growing, and otherwise the situation is one of somewhat stable growth akin to that of the wild west. Authority clings to society, but wearily.


Saints of Icarus

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

What started as a collective of good Samaritans attempting to bring justice and order to the chaos that was the west crash zone devolved into a authoritarian state with feudalistic and religious cult-like aspirations. In 2086, about 5 years after the Impact, the Saints of Icarus had grown to become the regional power of the west. Having established contact with the UNCA to the east, the Saints' leadership had expressed their desire to cooperate with the UNCA and begin unification. Supplies and soldiers were sent by the UNCA to help the Saints in maintaining control while the two powers worked out the merger. The Saints weren't necessarily a true state at this point, but more of a confederation of hamlets and settlements settled around the western area. The Saints was a coalition of free and hardworking people who had struggled through many episodes of violence, from repeated Outlander raids, to the expulsion of the Free Men from the west, the Saints had finally begun constructing the utopia they had all fought so hard to establish since the crash. Among the hulk of the aft portion of the Icarus was the trade hub of Angel's Perch. Its resources and position had developed it into a sprawling and disorganized urban spread, where the Saints had established the seat of their confederate government. Lack of any sort of strong central authority had led the Saints to develop into a collection of settlements with different interests and differing goals, something akin to the Thirteen Colonies of 18th century Britain. Individual governance of the settlements had led to each becoming very prosperous and successful, but the lack of a unifying government naturally raised tensions over time. Rising tensions culminated in loud disagreement when the issue of unification with the UNCA was brought up during a meeting of the Confederate Assembly, convened twice a year in Angel's Perch. Very quickly partisanship swept the Saints as two somewhat equal factions emerged, one opposed to unification, and one in favor. Those in the unification faction stressed that the path forward was a strong and unified New Earth, while those in the opposition party argued that the central government of the UNCA had hampered growth and that the standard of living in the UNCA was much less than in the Saints' disparate confederacy.

Tensions were about to culminate in messy civil war when a single man, Joseph Hollicker, started a movement that would change the course of history. He started as a travelling preacher who spread the gospel to the "sinful and depraved" denizens of the settlements of the west, but overtime old age and lack of a real follower base lead Hollicker down a more radical path towards the creation of a radicalized and over zealous offshoot of Southern Baptism. Blaming all of the problems of the settlers of the west on the "barbaric forces of evil" in the Outlands and the "unholy imperialists" of the UNCA, Hollicker slowly but surely grew a small following in each small settlement he passed through. For too long the people lacked the catharsis of a scapegoat, and Hollicker was their sweet release. When Hollicker was arrested by the local government of a small colony in the south of the Saints' territory, his cult following overthrew the government of the settlement and established control. News of the small revolt spread across the western colonies and what was before just the obscure followership of fools and fanatics became an outlet for those who were frustrated with what seemed like a confederacy that was moving towards adopting unification. Followers flocked to the small settlement, which Hollicker named Zion, and all over the Saint's territory angry settlers adopted his radical take on Christianity. The zealotist movement, as it was called by the unification party, quickly became a dominant force in politics and prominence as more and more settlements fell to the clutches of radical preachers and rebel warlords. The confederate government tried to raise a militia with which to stop the spread of Hollicker's followers but an assault on a Zealotist settlement only caused more anger and sympathy for his movement. When the radicals struck back, it was the final blow to the weakened and floundering government of the Saints. Angel's Perch fell and was rebranded New Jerusalem. The rebels spread across the rest of Saint territory, conquering all the settlements that refused to submit. Hollicker died in an assault on one northern town, but his ideology had already taken root. The zealots, inspired by his martyrdom and near unstoppable, soon conquered all who didn't convert.

With unification off the table and the Saints of Icarus now being radicalized into zealotry and xenophobia, tensions with the UNCA quickly grew. On top of that, multiple warlords and religious leaders all controlled different parts of the Saints' territory, and the next few years devolved into non stop civil war as rival factions fought for control. Finally after years of fighting, in 2089, one warlord, Brandon Faulkner, was able to subjugate the other factions into a sort of feudalistic society. Individual rebel leaders kept control of their holdings as long as they swore fealty to Faulkner's superior power. Soon the Saints of Icarus began to look more like a realm in medieval Europe than a collection of colonies hundreds of thousands of lightyears from Earth. A hierarchy soon established itself within the Saints, and Faulkner's demesne, including the now fortress-city of New Jerusalem, was the supreme sovereign of a collection of radicalized and power-hungry feudalistic lords in what was essentially a realm of shantytowns.

Faulker styled his government much as a medieval kingdom would, appointing ministers and creating provisions for the levying of soldiers from his vassals. A skilled leader and cold tactician, any vassals who opposed his rule were dealt with viciously and cruelly, and he soon became feared. Faulker and his ministries strengthened the Saints of Icarus into a power comparable to that of the UNCA, but the individual wellbeing of most citizens (frightfully akin to medieval serfs), was much less. Most of the leaders within the Saints all jockeyed for power among each other, but the ideology of Church of Hollicker was strong, and the zealotry of the Church pervaded every element of society, from the common peasant to even Faulkner himself. The religion was not just an instrument of power but a true common hatred for any who would deny it. Mass hysteria akin to the Salem Witch Trials swept the Saints of Icarus and anyone who talked out against Overlord Faulkner, the Church, or their lord was usually brutally punished. A dystopia unlike any other had formed on New Earth, and how ironic it was that it started at an attempt to protect the weak amidst the forces of anarchy.

While the Saints had spies all throughout the UNCA (and vice versa), it was well known that the UNCA was establishing a space program and soon a space race between the two powers emerged. Trillions of kilometers away from Earth, and no more than a century later, history was replaying itself. Two rival powers, nearly equal in strength, with vastly different ideologies now competed for dominance. While neither power possessed nuclear weapons, civilization on New Earth was fragile, and supplies were limited. A total war might lead to the deaths of tens of millions if life support systems and agricultural outlets were damaged or destroyed.

Talks between the two powers begun, and both wanted the supplies of the aft compartment (the Saints were not going to part with them), exuberant borders, and generally expected unfair deals of each other. Diplomacy mostly broke down, and in 2091, when the First War begun, many were afraid it would be the last.


But the UNCA triumphed, and the Saints were forced to part with most of the supplies that were in the Icarus's aft compartment. Angry, beaten, and more zealous than ever, the next chapter of New Earth history begins as both factions look towards the sky. One wants nothing more than the complete and vengeful destruction of the other, and the other recklessly pursues the directives of a planet that most likely no longer exists. When stranded among stars, mankind slowly goes insane.



Government

Overlord: His Highness Brandon Faulkner
Supreme sovereign of all territories of the Saints and effectively the dictator of the west. While the Saints of Icarus are still in the throes of a proto-feudalistic society, the low level independent government that is characteristic of a feudal system is heavily altered by Faulkner's heavy handed rulership. The Overlord appoints the Supreme Ministers and exercises authority and control over his vassals from his demesne in New Jerusalem.

Archminister: Archduke Jonah Phaeron
The Archminister is effectively the right hand of the Overlord, and in charge of the Supreme Ministry. The Archiminister acts as the primary point of contact between the Overlord and the various Ministers, and is also the head of Supreme Council meetings when the Overlord is absent. The Archiminister is typically a powerful and trusted vassal, and is typically entrusted as the regent of the Overlord. As well as handling routine every day affairs of state, the Archminister is also in charge of the shady intelligence services of the Saints, which spy on the UNCA and vassals alike.

Lord Marshal: Duchess Jessica Lambert
The Lord Marshal is in charge of the retinues of the Overlord and leading the massed levies of the Saints when going to war. Duchess Lambert was instrumental in the civil wars that established Faulkner as overlord, and some say he trusts her more than his own Archminister. The appointment is clouded with controversy from several ambitious vassals after the loss of the First War, however, and many are no longer sure of her capabilities.

Meister: Count Sigusmand Anar
The Meister is in charge of the finances and treasury of the demesne and also responsible for tax collection from vassals. Count Anar is the first Miester, and some say destined to be the craftiest. Under his keen oversight, the treasuries of the Overlord have swelled, and the infamous Ministry of Tribute already has an appropriately dubious reputation.


Artificer: Mitchell Baxter
The Guild of Scholars appoints an Artificer to the Supreme Ministries, who is responsible for advising the Overlord on matters of scientific affairs. The Artificer is responsible for conducting research while remaining within the good graces of the Church. While the Overlord generally is heavily involved in all affairs, Faulkner tends to let his Artificer operate on his own, aware of the bounties of intellectual freedom.


New Jerusalem is the seat of power of the Saints and its overlord. A heavily fortified settlement with walls of pure duranium, the city was built into and sprawled around the aft compartment of the Icarus. Bazaars and residential districts lie within its warped corridors and sheltered tunnels poke into and out of holes in the hull, leading into the outer shantytown of small habdomes, protocrete flats, and underground districts that belie the outskirts of the city. Guards maintain a heavy presence and subjects live in constant martial law. Those who speak out against the Overlord or cause trouble are generally punished by allowing the arresting guard to do what they want with the criminal. Crime is very scarce, and hidden where it exists. The guards of the city are supplemented by the overlord's Angel Guard, who are his personal retinue and most hardened and trusted troops.

Vassals come and go from the citadel at the center of New Jerusalem, a very resilent fortress carved out of one of the aft ammunition magazines. The extremely strong structure of the magazine coupled with its few openings make for a very fortified keep, and it is here where the Overlord holds his court, and where most of the barracks of the city guard are located.

Elements of the Angel's Guard patrol the feifs of the Saints, ensuring vassals stay in line and tribute is paid. Free enterprise is almost noneexistent outside of the few large urban centers, where a few lucky merchants and moneylenders have made a name for themselves. Other than the few rich businessmen and women of the Saints, most of the public lives in very tiny cubicles carved hastily under the sprawls of older settlements that were conquered in the civil wars. Life is very dark, literally, and some people never even see the surface. Those who are the most indentured labor away for almost all the day before getting small rations, and guards keep even the most raucous in line. Most people are educated because of the standards of 21st century Earth, but are dulled over time by menial labor and the hard routine of virtual slavery. Future generations are illiterate and lack any sort of education, except for those who are taught by their parents.


The Guild of Scholars accepts very few people, and is extremely secretive. Because it is almost impossible to make money, most see it as the only way out, and certain settlements have very competitive tutoring programs, where parents sometimes go so far as fighting to the death for the chance for their kids to advance to the Guild to get out of the pervasive squalor. The populace is tired and subdued, and while most see revolt as necessary, few see it as a possibility.


But there is hope.  The Saints' space program is springing further and further into fruition as the first spaceports are finalized. People submit their applications en masse to the preliminary colonization program in hopes of getting away from the  tyranny that belies this unfortunate section of New Earth. The last hope among a weak and suffering people lies in the same void that brought them here in the first place. They are ready to once again strand themselves among stars, but this time in the hopes of something better.

[EuchreJack]

Since I can't seem to get Aurora to work on my newer machine, I'm eager to see how this goes!

[Vivalas]

January 1, 2100 - March 6, 2101

Spoiler: Saints of Icarus: (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: United Nations Colonial Administration (click to show/hide)

The year progresses without any particularly notable events. The Saints and UNCA maintain their typical diplomatic haggling and contacts with each other, but otherwise keep to themselves. The UNCA economy continues to grow with the injection of capital and materials brought by the First War, and under Overlord Faulkner the Saints of Icarus slowly consolidates more into a centralized state.

The Saints focus mainly on centralizing their disparate feudal state while strengthening their army. The Saints continue the expansion of their land forces, and focused the majority of their research on ground combat technology to increase the effectiveness of their ground forces. One such secret project under their agenda of increasing ground power is the Fast Assault Rover, also known as Project Goundhog to UNCA spies. Designed for maximum speed and mobility in the frigid ice steppes of New Earth, the aim of the project is to develop a vehicle capable of outmaneuvering and swarming the otherwise extremely bogged down land forces of the UNCA. Both sides realized the harsh reality of fighting a land war in -96 C was that things took forever to progress, and the Saints now believe with the right amount of mobility they can literally run circles around the Colonial Militia. The project is still in its early stages, but various improvements and reorganization of the Saints military forces have made them a much more effective fighting force than they were in the First War. Economically the Saints are focused on industrial growth, looking to make up for the loss in stockpiled goods that they were forced to surrender to the UNCA.

On the other side of the ice plains, the UNCA focuses its attention to the stars. Besides economic reform to halt the increasing budget deficit, most research has been focused on re-engineering and improving upon the human concepts of spaceflight to launch a few survey ships into space to get a look around the Tau Ceti system. The UNCA economy has grown increasingly stagnant in the past few years, and government officials are concerned about the future of the UNCA if a new source of economic vitality-- colonization and colonial trade-- cannot be found. Plans for the UNCA's first spacefaring vessel, the "Adventure-Class Geological Survey Vessel" have been finalized, and the UNCA's brand new spaceport and shipyard in Prosperity has just begun laying down the keel-- a historic moment in humanity's current chapter of history.

Besides the progress of both polities, the unexpected death of Trista Viviani in Februrary of 2100, the UNCA's Colonial Civil Administrator, caused somewhat of a stir in the political scene. A very prominent position-- some say second to the General Administrator themself-- the death and its circumstances have created some conspiracy theories. The most prominent of which is the usage of the death by the Brothers of Liberty-- a radical libertarian terrorist group that has been growing in popularity recently in the UNCA-- as a recruiting and PR tool. While most sources affirm that the death was entirely accidental and without suspicious cause, the Brothers of Liberty claim responsibility for Viviani's "assassination" as a PR stunt, and the move has caught the public eye. Support for the group has increased in the past few months in rural regions of the UNCA, as distraught workers and radical populists uphold the notion that the government is hiding details of her death to discredit the terrorist group-- and intelligence sources note that their numbers have been increasing at an accelerating rate since the death of Viviani. While far from being a threat to the UNCA-- analysts note that the current socioeconomic status of the UNCA can lead to stability issues in the future, especially in the wake of events that can be used as fuel for the agendas of opposition groups in the country.

While General Administrator Charon has yet to announce a nomination for Viviani's replacement, an increase in funding has been granted to internal security forces to maintain order and suppress terrorists and other violent political groups around the country. Whether or not civil disorder will bring the UNCA to its knees is a question for the next few decades to answer.

----

I've been here for a little over a year now. Funny how much you can give to society only for it to come back and fuck you.

I served in the Colonial Militia for a few years, up until the war. Didn't think of it much, was a soldier back on Earth and decided that I needed to fulfill the prophecy of dying by the sword if had lived by it for so long. It wasn't much either, just patrolling, shooting at a few ragged rebels every now and then, but damn me to hell if I don't talk about how fucked our situation was either. I'm no McGuyver, but our logistical situation was about as non existent as the utopia we were promised here on New Earth. I'm not shitting you when I tell you one of my buddies, the combat engineer for the squad, had to modify one of the fabs on the personnel carrier to print us bullets. The military had been transitioning to railguns for a while, due to the lack of a stable supply of gunpowder, so we were able to use these shady slugs, albeit barely. I'll give it to that man, he was one hell of an engineer, since the only close call we had was when one of our portable machine guns blew apart and nearly shredded the poor bastard using it.

It might not have been all that fun, but it sure was a helluva game until the war started. I've fought in a war before, so I didn't have too much of an issue, but our units happened to get shifted around like a fucking blender straight out of the fucking insane asylum, and guess what? Everyone was pissed. You had companies and outfits that had been best buds for years patrolling the wastes, and now you scramble em up and stick em with random shitbags who don't know a rifle from their fucking asshole?

And like that in the name of "efficiency" morale fell from fucking orbit. Sure the new guys were indifferent at first, but we gave em so much shit that they soon became as crass as us regulars. Anyways fast forward a few fucking months and now we're rotated off the front line to garrison in some shitty backwater Mormon shithole, and that's when the shit started hitting the fan. The platoon leader who had been leading us around since the beginning of the war wasn't half too bad, but he caught a bullet a few weeks before and only barely survived. He was taken out of action, and queue from stage right the biggest fucking excuse for a 2LT I've seen in my whole goddamned career. SSgt Jonesberg didn't take too fondly to this complete assfuck who had more of a chance of leading us into an ambush then finding his own asshole to wipe after taking a shit.

So we fought. Like good ol' times, and the bastard was down for it too, until he lost-- and then all of a sudden I found myself being hounded by MPs with charges of "assaulting an officer" being shoved up my asshole. I tried to plead my case but the brass was having none of it. I got demoted and reassigned to basic bitch cleaning duties at the local FOB, and I'd be damned if I was going to spend the rest of the war scrubbing shitters only to be dishonorably discharged as a private.

So I made a break for it in the middle of the night. Wasn't too difficult, and they only found out after they noticed a RUV was missing. I laid low for the rest of the war until trying to adopt a burner identity to live my life out in peace as a security guard in Landing Point. Up until a year ago that worked, until they caught up to me, and now I'm where I am now-- a loser in the back room of my friend's apartment, slowly driven into cabin fever by the threat of being arrested every time I leave this forsaken place.

I have to give it to my buddy, Thomas, who decided to take me in. I had served with him in Bravo Platoon during the war. He sure as hell didn't have to, but we had saved each other's skin a few times in the war and he said that beating the shit out of the platoon commander was the biggest boost to morale the unit had had since the war started. He didn't want much, but I assured him I would help out and do basic chores and try to maybe get an online job of sorts to be more than a useless sack of shit. Its working out so far, but damn am I bored out of my mind-- and I'm going insane too.

Prosperity isn't too bad a place. One of the smallest true urban centers in the 'NCA, it has the feel of a more quiet town while having the amenities of a city. There is a small recreation dome not a few sections away from my buddy's flat, and about once a week I risk getting caught to enjoy a walk about the simulated Earth countrysides. Its risky-- but it's all that I can do to keep sane, and I'm not exactly a high profile criminal either. The only close call I've had was a random search by a peace officer who thought my slinking around the halls during oh dark thirty to be a bit suspect. My fake ID held up to scrutiny, and I've been a bit shaken ever since. I can't say for sure what I want to do from this point on. I could face up to 5 years in prison if I get caught, and prison in the 'NCA is even worse than its mythical Earth counterpart. I'm slowly going mad locked up in this prison of my own creation, however, and I'm not going to be able to take it much longer, and lately I've been thinking...

The space program here in Prosperity is quite the talk of the town. The city was quite literally built around the spaceport itself and the market for services to support it and its workers. About a third of the populace are the smart types: engineers, scientists, and master craftsmen who are employed by the UNCA Space Commission-- which is our little dumb experiment in finding another side-fucked rock to land ourselves on. There's talk of a colonization program in the works to vet colonists for when a habitable planet is (if, I tend to think is more accurate) found. That type of program would certainly not be fooled by my batshit forged documents, but there is another way to get into space... my buddy says I'm insane and that he can work something out for a quiet lifestyle in some rural backwater mining town. A small flat, an unassuming identity-- maybe I could even marry a girl there and settle down... I'm not too sure though. The military is all I've ever know and I'm mentally fucked because of it. I need adrenaline to keep my heart beating and I just can never be satisfied with a normal life. Being a stowaway on a colony ship sounds like the dumbest plan I've ever had-- and it most likely is-- but it's the only route I can think of that is available to me now that I've created this fucked situation for myself.

[Vivalas]

March 6, 2101 - February 16, 2102

Spoiler: Saints of Icarus: (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: United Nations Colonial Administration (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Map (click to show/hide)

Another year passes on New Earth as the two powers build up their military forces in a cold-war style arms race. The UNCA continues to outpace the SOI in terms of industrial output, as well as infrastructure due to its victory over the SOI in the First War. Struggling with overpopulation, growth in the SOI stagnates as the realm struggles to expand its settlements and colonies to support the burden of the populace.

Within the UNCA, the political situation within the top military echelons shifts a bit as Carmine Wei steps into position as the UNCA's Deputy Colonel-General, with Colonel-General Dombkowski, hero of the First War, being reassigned to the Colonial Intelligence Agency to head a secret division of black operations and aggressive intelligence gathering aimed at the SOI. Under the direct purview of the General Administrator (and appointed by his own request), the position is important and has a great degree of freedom, but Dombkowski is still a bit frustrated with being removed from combat operations.

Carmine Wei, on the other hand, is elated. Chosen to succeed Dombkowski, Colonel-General Wei was chosen for the position by showing some of the greatest initiative and tactical skill out of all the Colonels of the burgeoning Colonial Militia. While the background of his wealthy family casts a controversial shadow on his appointment, he was chosen purely out of aptitude. Nontheless some of the more senior Colonels of the Colonial Militia grumble about his appointment and Wei will need to prove himself among the top brass of the Colonial Militia to be an effective leader.

Meanwhile Colonel-General Shelia Baranek, head of all military forces within the UNCA managed to increase her connections within the Administrative Council to lobby for greater military expenditure and preparedness in the wake of the growing military of the Saints of Icarus. While the Saints have a much smaller economy, the existence of their police state and heavy taxation allows them to sustain a larger and better equipped military, and many leaders within the Colonial Militia express concern over the growing aggressive nature of the Saints' border forces.

Baranek's increasing political connections coincided perfectly with the construction of a huge fortress in the Zion Mountains. Named "Fort Faulkner" by the SOI, the base serves as a center of operations, training, and artillery overwatch post for New Jerusalem and its surrounding areas. The UNCA Administrative Council was moved by Baranek to considerably increase expenditure and training within the nation's security forces to counter the growing power of the Saints, and military planners within the UNCA now are wary of the much greater cost of an offensive war due to the fortifications.

In the SOI, in January of 2102, the construction of the citadel was a great accomplishment for Faulkner and his administration, solidifying his rule and approval among his vassals. Faulkner chose one of his good friends and most loyal vassal, Viscount Kei Barry to serve as Warden of Zion, the title given to the commander of Fort Faulkner. With great ceremony and pomp Warden Barry graciously accepted the appointment and began an impressive streak of reforms and organizational policies within his "castle in the hills" that increased his reputation as a commander and leader. Professional and astute, Barry quickly began to inspire respect and devotion within the garrison and his forces scored record high across the board in the first ever annual military drill conducted by the levied armies of the Saints.

While the Saints were busy preparing for war, the UNCA had other objectives in mind. In February of 2102 arguably the greatest achievement of all so far was reached by the UNCA with the completion of the UNS Antares, the first ever spacefaring vessel constructed on New Earth. Its commissioning ceremony was conducted with even greater pomp and media presence than the construction of Fort Faulkner in the SOI. A great triumph and achievement for humanity thus far on New Earth, the construction of the Antares represents a new era for the colonists of New Earth, and is a symbolic stepping stone back to the stars from which they so rudely fell.


----

Hanna Vogt cursed her luck as she hurriedly readied herself in the dressing area of the news van. On such a historic occassion as this, how could they possible think she was the reporter that could cover the launching of the Antares? Sure, she was a rising star among the United News Union's league of burgeoning journalists, but she had just barely recovered from a terrible case of the Caver Flu and she was in no position to cover such a momentuous event.

Vogt was definitely a rising star, however. The young journalist had barely been a journalist for 2 years and already had a rather large collection of accolades and awards from various professional organizations across the UNCA. At only 25, she was definitely heading down a bright path to an amazing career, most agreed, and her looks certainly helped as well on the camera. But damn it all, she thought, have they seen the crowds out there? There's hundreds of thousands of visitors in Prosperity today, and millions more are going to be watching her on television when she begins the live coverage of the UNS Antares' commissioning ceremony.

Suddenly a knock came on the door. "Hurry up, Hanna, they're getting ready to start!", came a male voice from outside.

Vogt hurriedly finished applying her makeup as she pulled on her blazer and gathered her composure in the mirror. I can do this, she thought, this is going to be my breakout broadcast.

Just then, a massive roar and the titanic tremor that followed it knocked her to the ground of the van. And then all hell broke loose.

Hanna blinked for a moment on the ground, not entirely sure what had just happened. It can't be, she thought, not today of all days. And then her hearing slowly came back and that's when she heard it. The screams, the moans, the cries and the sirens. She got up, steadied herself on her table and limped to the door. Her ankle was a bit twisted from the force of the shockwave, but she could walk. She gritted her teeth and pushed the door of the large mobile news center open.




Outside, hell was indeed loose and on the warpath. Sirens and yells created a cacophony unlike ever before as flashing lights cut through the heavy smoke. Vogt almost screamed when she saw the body of her colleague and significant other, Landon Harris lying on the ground outside with a 3 inch pipe through his chest. He couldn't move, and his only retort against the suddenty of the explosion was the feeble twitching of his mouth as he tried to reach his hand out to grasp hers. Hanna collapsed to the ground, unable to respond to the trauma she was witnessing. She thought about his last words as she stared into his eyes. If she had hurried would she be dead too? She began to cry when she heard a scream behind her. "Vogt! Come with me, come on, girl, get up, you can't help him!"

She turned around, it was Michael Brown, or Mikey as they all called him at the station. Her long time mentor and biggest supporter, he had been almost a father figure to her. But now he was the closest thing to a father that she had as she gazed helplessly into his eyes.

"Snap out of it, girl! Come on, we need to get out of here, there could be more bombs!", he yelled, as he grabbed her hands and started pulling her away from her dying companion.

She tried to resist at first, but she was still unable to comprehend what was happening and simply followed as Mikey led her around. Bombs? Who could have done this? Confusion and fear slowly morphed into anger as she realized what was going on. A terror attack. The triumph of the brightest minds of the UNCA was too much for some of the radical extremist groups to accept, it seemed. But who? Why? The Antares was a triumph for all of humanity. A symbol of hope, and a path of escape for all who despaired on this cold, dark, rock.

And what's more, they had taken her coworker, her friend, her lover. As she stumbled around the debris and corpses lining the rubble of the grandstands that had been erected around the space center, Hanna knew what she had to do. She was going to find out who had done this and bring them to her knees, even if she had to die trying. Whoever did this was going to pay. And if she did die, she thought, well shit-- she would have Landon again...

[Vivalas]

February 16, 2102 - April 22, 2103

Spoiler: Saints of Icarus: (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: United Nations Colonial Administration (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Map (click to show/hide)

The launch of the UNS Antares in April of 2102 was marked with tragedy, after a terrorist attack consisting of multiple bombs that detonated in the stands and around the facility killed 456 people and wounded about 600 more. Overwhelmed with the tragedy of the bombings, the public was outraged and demand for better internal security within the UNCA grew. The reputation of the space program was damaged as well, due to associations with the bombings.

The Brothers of Liberty claimed responsibility for the incident, citing that the needs of the people should come before some mythical "odyssey through the stars". The bombings inspired a new wave of separatist activity around the UNCA, and while there has been no more major incidents since the attack at Rackley Shipyards in Prosperity, minor incidents and attacks in other cities in the UNCA wear away at the morale of the people as they realize the government's continuing inability or disinclination to root out the terrorist cells forming.

The Brothers of Liberty continue to be the largest and most powerful separatist group in the UNCA, with their numbers growing by discontented citizens daily. Intelligence estimates rate them at almost 3000 strong across the UNCA, and the group absorbed multiple other radical extremist groups after the bombings at Prosperity, due to their resulting heightened prestige among the separatist groups of the UNCA. While authorities begin more earnest attempts to root out and disband the group, UNCA counter-terrorism operations are still underfunded and half-hearted despite the tragedy at Prosperity.

Two months later, on April 16 of 2102, after repairs to the Antares and the facilities of Rackley Shipyards, the Antares successfully climbed into orbit on a second launch ceremony (although this time with far less spectators and much more security). Almost all eyes on New Earth watched as she climbed higher and higher into the sky, hoping and waiting, or in the case of the Saints, scrutinizing very carefully.

The Antares was a small craft, at least by the standards of the Icarus. Displacing 4000 tons, she was about as large as a tramp freighter. Two massive engines protruded out of the rear of her tapered frame. The engines and the engineering spaces around them took up about 60% of the volume of the ship and the majority of the crew complement as well. Her frame was modern and blocky in style, with hard angular surfaces gradually curving from the smaller bow to the wider stern. The ship's bridge was nested into the gradient of the hull at the front of the ship, slightly top-of-center. Much wider and longer than deep, overall the shape was that of a flat rectangular block, albeit with more grace owing to the angles and edges that gave the ship a utilitarian science fiction look. This architectural style would come to mark the designs and construction of UNCA ships for years to come, and gave the ships of the UNCA a practical and technological look, even if a bit blunt.

The crew was a very highly trained and selected bunch of scientists and engineers under Captain Santa Welander, UNEC. The UNCA Space Commission had been established and composed of both academic and military personnel, with the operational positions being given to former naval officers and experienced sailors that came along on the Icarus, and the administrative oversight being given mostly to expert scientists and engineers. While not strictly a military organization, the Space Commission was responsible for the operation, supply, and construction of ships for the UNCA-- with an emphasis on exploration and scientific inquiry rather than combat (for lack of a current capable adversary). Nonetheless, the Expeditionary Corps (UNEC) was established under the Space Commission, and became the main uniformed branch of the Space Commission.

The Corps established a very basic rank structure, regulatory code, and uniform inventory inspired by the traditions and cultures of naval forces on Earth, primarily those of NATO. A collection of officers were cobbled together into an administrative body called the Expeditionary Fleet Command, responsible for the training, operation, and supply of the Corps' ships and personnel. The distinction between officer and enlisted within the Corps was much less than in the ground forces of the UNCA and the navies of Earth past, with an emphasis on expertise, skill, and knowledge rather than tactical know-how and military leadership. Officers were selected from various different fields based on seniority and prominence in their respective fields, rather than a rigid induction or military indoctrination process. The Corps was more akin to a scientific expedition organization than a military unit, and the uniforms and ranks were more for efficient organization and to inherit ship operation procedures from Earth navies than to instill discipline or hierarchy.

Nonetheless, the Antares was similar to that of a warship in terms of operation. Captain Welander had direct responsibility and authority for her crew, along with her executive officer and long-time friend, Commander Tracey Rabalais. With the engines running smoothly, and all crew reporting nominal on their various systems, the Antares began its rather short journey across the system. The transit to Anemoi lasted 6 hours and was widely publicized, as Captain Welander narrated from the bridge and commented on the status of the ship as it zipped through space towards its destination. Thanks to the expert design and construction standards of the Space Commission, the ship made it to Anemoi orbit with little difficulty, and the public was awed as pictures of the blue hazy planet flashed among their telescreens back on New Earth.

The stellography of Tau Ceti is very interesting, to say the least. The system has 7 planets, with a G8-7 main sequence star in its center. The closest planet to the star is a massive Super Jovian known as Ops, named after the Roman diety of fertility. It has hundreds of moons, and is slightly smaller than Jupiter, although its proximity to its parent star makes it a bit of an oddity.

Next is Anemoi, the only other terrestrial planet in the system other than New Earth. Anemoi is closer to the sun than New Earth is, and warmer, but lacks a breathable atmosphere, instead having a toxic atmosphere of Ammonia, Nitrogen, and Methane. The survey of Anemoi revealed an incredibly dense core of duranium reserves that make it a strategic long-term source of duranium for UNCA planners. An expedition lead by Dr. Mason Walkins, the Chief Xenologist of the Expeditionary Corps and the Antares' science officer was a sensation back on Earth. The footage of the team departing the small shuttle they used to land on Anemoi has since become iconic, and has inspired a whole new genre of movies, pop culture, and interest in space exploration. Other than the brief incursions on Mars in 2027, before Trans-Newtonian physics made space travel much less of a hassle, this was the third ever planet to be explored by a human, along with being the second ever exo-planet. While nothing extraordinary was found on the surface, the PR hit of the expedition inspired and gave hope to millions in the UNCA, as confidence in the government and the Space Commission reached new peaks.

Besides New Earth, the last 4 planets of Tau Ceti are all gas giants of various sizes and proportions, the largest being Azara, which is also the furthest planet from the sun. All named after Roman deities as well, two of the gas giants were found to have large concentrations of Sorium in their atmosphere, an important find for the future of UNCA space exploration.

While pictures and logs from the explorations were publicized and used as powerful PR tools, data about the nature and distributions of minerals found in Tau Ceti were kept secret to maintain the edge against the Saints and their now-fledgling space program. Public excitement towards the Antares' expeditions gradually declined over time, but the calling of space exploration is still very much alive in the hearts and minds of the UNCA and its pop culture. Currently all large planets in the Tau Ceti system have been surveyed, and now the Antares is tasked with surveying all the small moons and planetoids in orbit among the many gas giants. A tedious job, if not an extremely important one.


Additionally, the Administrative Council of the UNCA finally nominated and approved a new Secretary of Colonial Civil Administration. Secretary Laquita Welsh, a prominent bureaucrat from the CCA's logistics and transportation division, the appointment process took an exceedingly long amount of time as political jousting in the Council between multiple candidates occurred. In the meantime, the tenure of the multiple interim candidates and their seemingly premature resignations gummed up the works of the UNCA's civil services and projects. After two years of delay, corruption, and waste, the Administrative Council finally announced the new candidate among worries that the UNCA's metropolitan areas would grind to a halt due to mismanagement. General Administrator Charon publicly apologized for the delay in appointing the new Secretary and stated that, "measures" were being taken to ensure the situation wouldn't happen again.


Meanwhile, the SOI has been starting to fund a space agency of their own. On the western side of the Zion Mountains, in the ducal capital of Vorlant, the Overlord's ministries gathered together enough resources and personnel to begin the construction of a spaceport and associated facilities. Plans for a ship were finalized and in October of 2102, a few weeks after the basic structures were in place, the keel of the HMOV Amalthea was laid down.

Military innovation in the SOI continues, with the beginnings of a program aimed at designing a unit of troops centered around fast assault and combined arms invasion. Realizing that with their current economic capacity it would be very difficult to outpace UNCA's strengthening defensive forces, the SOI have begun multiple projects and initiatives to perfect assault and war on the cold, frozen, steppes of New Earth. The Saints continue to look to east as they plan their next moves towards domination...

----

The man grunted as he looked at the intelligence report he held in his hands. Fast assault craft? Jump troopers? It was a mix of topics and ideas, half of which were fantasy and the other half which seemed almost practical. He shook his head as he looked up and down the paper he had been given by the operations department. The intelligence community had long known the Saints' primary goal currently was retribution for the First War, but he had never guessed their lust for vengeance was this exaggerated. They were willing to do anything, it seemed, to get back their glory and honor and "stolen" goods from the UNCA.

Major Glen Ackimo snorted at that thought. Stolen? Everything on this blasted rock was the property of the UN and the Icarus mission. Everyone seemed to forget so easily that before all the war and chaos and political posturing they were all just fellow colonists on a mission to bring the chalice of hope and prosperity of mankind away from the imminent cleansing of nuclear fire. Major Ackimo had been one of the peacekeeping officers in the original UN regiments on the Icarus, and had stayed with the UNCA since its inception and immediate trial by fire. He, like most other higher ups in the UNCA, just wanted to establish order and unification over New Earth so they could get back to what they had came here to do in the first place. The fact that colonists in the aft compartment had gone and created a fucking feudal monarchy of themselves wasn't just ridiculous, it was proving to be a massive pain. Overlord? Overlord of what, some shipping containers and run down pod-towns? Ackimo knew the Saints' power and influence was greater than that, but he still couldn't believe that they really insisted on maintaining their crazy little fucking commune of zealots.

Major Ackimo was a senior analyst and field operative in the Colonial Intelligence Agency's little offshoot known as the "16th Division". Highly secret, officially unacknowledged, and the ethical equivalent of the KGB, the 16th Division, or 16-Delta for short, was a black operations unit tasked with undertaking very sensitive, highly dangerous, diplomatically unacceptable, and exceedingly illegal missions for the purpose of getting in the little "cracks" where otherwise law abiding and government-representing agents just couldn't fit.

16-Delta was headed by Colonel-General Rickie Dombkowski, who, officially, had retired from the Colonial Militia to live a mundane and peaceful existence in a farming settlement north of Liberty. In reality, he was now the commander of an elite organization dedicated to carrying out whatever missions were assigned to it, irregardless of due process, and completely unrecognized by the government. Created by decision of the Administrative Council, it was noted that current operation protocols of the intelligence and security services were too restrictive to maintain the level of oversight needed to keep the UNCA stable in the foreseeable future. Already pressured by elected assemblies and the general public to increase civil liberties, decreasing restrictions on law enforcement and domestic intelligence agencies was simply out of the question. The solution was the creation of a branch of the CIA that could do whatever it pleased and answered directly to the General Administrator and his closest advisers.

16-Delta operatives carried no identifying documents, no permits, and no official authorizations to do what they were doing. This was especially pertinent during domestic operations, where 16-Delta operatives captured by UNCA law enforcement personnel were treated just like any other criminal, and were doomed to the full judicial process, including the full sentence of whatever it was they were doing. Disguised as smugglers, gangbangers, rebels, terrorists, and many other subversive elements, 16-Delta operatives operated in their assigned roles to complete their assigned tasks-- all while trying to avoid detection by the same government that they were working for. This is not to say they were completely on their own; 16-Delta sleepers were put in place in various levels of the law enforcement and military command structure to help shift the odds of their fellow operatives through very passive and mundane tasks such as altering dispatch and patrol schedules to keep law enforcement out of the field operatives' areas of operations, but nothing overt was ever done to help an operative out when he was in trouble. Sanctity of the UNCA's public image and the secrecy of 16-Delta were of utmost priority, and operatives were aware of this. Field agents were chosen selectively based on their background, with an emphasis on minimal dependents or family ties. Told only that they were selected for assignment to an intelligence position that was very dangerous and had little reward, but was of incredible importance, operatives volunteered knowing the hazards of what they were getting into.

Cigarette smoke curled around Major Ackimo's head as he continued to digest the long report he was reading, when the door flew open and Colonel-General Rickie Dombkowski, Director, 16th Division, came in. Major Ackimo popped off a terse, "Good afternoon, sir." as Dombkowski plopped himself down in his seat.

"I heard you got a report," Dombkowski inquired, with a hard look on his face.

Ackimo grinned just a little bit and piped up, "Indeed. The Saints are up to quite a lot."

"Pssh." Dombkowski looked uninterested. "As if that's anything new. Is it about the spaceship they're building?"

"No. Their ground forces. Rather, the rapid modernization of their ground forces. And, more particularly, their inclination to use them against us as soon as possible."

"Ha! I sure as hell never got a 'thank you' when I took New Jerusalem the first time. They're not exactly our friends."

Ackimo sighed, and snuffed out his cigarette. "Yes, sir, well, this is a bit more concerning. They are apparently making rapid advances. We're going to need to either continue our build up in turn or match their advances with our own."

Dombkowski looked a bit distressed at that. For all of his macho personality, he knew as well as anyone that the political situation in the Council didn't favor the Militia. They were all so fucking interested in that shiny starship of theirs that they forgot the fucking barbarians right at the gates. He stared silently and rubbed his mustache for a few long moments.

"Well, there's another alternative." Dombkowski replied at last, with a devilish smile.

Major Ackimo raised his eyebrow in mild concern. "Sir?"

"I have a few jobs for you." Dombkowski said, reaching for a cigarette of his own.






----

Government efficiency in the UNCA decreases from Satisfactory to Wasteful in the wake of succession turmoil in upper level administration.
Loyalty of the population in the UNCA rises from Hopeful to Inspired as a result of the successful space exploration efforts of the Space Commission and Exploration Corps.
Mismanagement of infrastructure and civil development in the UNCA causes economic productivity to drop from Inspired to Nominal.

Major Glen Ackimo is now a playable character.

(Notes on playable characters: if played by a player, turns will slow down to cover plot arcs and decisions by players involved in the story. Actions and responses and all correspondence related to the player's character will be done over PM so as not to influence other player's actions and so I can write a story based on it which WILL eventually be published. In general, where player characters are involved, the game will gave "micro-turns" until that player's decisions stop having an effect and the story moves on until they are relevant again. They can still make decisions and might get their own side plot lines still, it will just be managed to keep the game moving ahead at a steady pace. Additionally: player characters will have bold red names when referred to in the writing. Bold red means they don't have a player, and bold blue will be used when they do. At the end of all posts along with status changes and other important events, the usernames of the players controlling the characters will be posted for reference.)

[EuchreJack]

When you say Tramp freighter, I assume you mean the seagoing vessels of Old Earth?  When I first read it, I thought "how would anyone know how big a Tramp freighter spacecraft would be?  This is the second spacecraft of their history."  It kind of broke immersion for me.  Enjoying read otherwise, as always.

[Vivalas]

Yes, the tramp freighter is a scale comparison towards the Old Earth cargo vessels. I'm trying to decide if displacement should correspond literally to how much water the ship would displace if dropped in water or if it should be jargon for another metric, since the former doesn't really make so much sense in the context of spacecraft. Either way I have a sort of scale in my head for how large Aurora spacecraft are, and I was using that for context.

[EuchreJack]

Well, a spaceship would be like a submarine regarding displacement, and not a surface vessel.  It would still make sense, sort of a shorthand for volume.

[Vivalas]

Yeah, submarines are always operating at their max displacement, which also makes flooding on a sub a bit of a pickle (among other things). I suppose a measure of mass is just as useful in spacecraft design, but then again displacement is more of a measure of weight.

There's a lot of similarities between submarines and spacecraft, at least in terms of their crews. I've always thought when (hopefully) starships become a thing, the first crews will be drawn from submarine crews. I was actually thinking about touching on that in the story, but was running a bit heavy already on words.

[EuchreJack]

Yeah, submarines are always operating at their max displacement, which also makes flooding on a sub a bit of a pickle (among other things). I suppose a measure of mass is just as useful in spacecraft design, but then again displacement is more of a measure of weight.

There's a lot of similarities between submarines and spacecraft, at least in terms of their crews. I've always thought when (hopefully) starships become a thing, the first crews will be drawn from submarine crews. I was actually thinking about touching on that in the story, but was running a bit heavy already on words.

Well, right now starships are drawn from the Air Force (astronauts).  However, if there for some reason was a need and capability for large number of starships in a short period of time, then sure, submarine mass conscription for all.

[Trekkin]

Yes, the tramp freighter is a scale comparison towards the Old Earth cargo vessels. I'm trying to decide if displacement should correspond literally to how much water the ship would displace if dropped in water or if it should be jargon for another metric, since the former doesn't really make so much sense in the context of spacecraft. Either way I have a sort of scale in my head for how large Aurora spacecraft are, and I was using that for context.

Well, given how trans-Newtonian physics apparently work, maybe it refers to whatever alternate-dimensional spacetime it's displacing to induce drag. In other words, a ship of X tons is affected by drag as though it were an X-ton duranium sphere.

Given certain assumptions about drag coefficients, that would provide a description of requisite engine power and maneuverability without being tethered to a specific mass or form factor.

[Vivalas]

So an update on this, I was considering abandoning it and taking up one of my many other ideas once C# drops, but I think aside from the personal campaign I had planned, it would be good to continue this. It will really depend on how well migrating this to C# goes, but for the most part all that matters is the planets anwyays. Had only just barely started exploring anyhow, haven't even left the starting system yet.

It's great that C# has such expanded universe building capabilities

[EuchreJack]

Well, I think you'd have to start over fresh with C#, but I understand the system editing potential is much higher with C# than before, so maybe you can recreate the star system.  I haven't really gotten into that end myself, so I dunno.

Might want to wait a week for the C# updates to subside, and fiddle around to understand how it works.  A bit of relearning, as its not all identical, for sure.

EDIT: I've fiddled with the system creation/modification settings, and you should be able to completely recreate your game's star system.  You'll have to start with a Sol start, but from there you can create and seed your system, then delete your Sol starting race.  I've only gotten rare, possibly unrelated and completely skippable, errors.