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anyhoo, since we are all just sitting here, why don't you regale us with some fluff?
sounds like a pretty interesting fantastic/sci-fi setting.
sounds like a pretty interesting fantastic/sci-fi setting.
Dinner? Candles? Red Wine? Coldplay playing????
yeah I wouldn't wait too long for that
been there, done that...........
Working on it.
@ Suirantes; I'll add you to the list. Wanna choose a name, unlike everyone else?
With a horrible shudder of pain, Pyotr withdrew back into his own body.This was the worst part of every day - or the measure of time known as a "day", considering there was no longer any sun to determine the time off of, or in fact many stars still visible to the naked eye. This was the time where the Other slept and he was forced to come back to this body, this frail, pain-wracked half-corpse of a body. His bones ached and throbbed, the slightest motion - a breath, a murmured word, the lifting of a fingertip - caused unbearable pain to shoot through every part of his body. The machines around him kept him alive, but they could not stop the process of aging, only slow it.
The people who scurried around him thought him dead - to the world, at least, even if the machines kept his body alive. A figurehead, they whispered, just a puppet for us to parade before the masses as a God.
With a groan that sent jolts of sharp pain through his skull, he set his mind to looking over the ship, like a man patting himself down after a fall. Everything appeared to be in order, nothing had gone wrong during his absence; the steady rumble of the ship's rotation around the core was still the same; the hum of the fusion generators was no different than ever; the ferocious roar of the engines continued to drive nails through his skull...
- well done - he whispered into the recesses of his mind.
- as always... - it whispered back.
His inspection complete, Pyotr cast his mind further afield, sending his gaze across the fleet. Eighteen ships there were now, including his flagship. Eighteen where once there had been over a hundred. He remembered - through a dreamlike haze - the construction of these ships, in the orbit of the homeworld, Earth. It had taken decades, while below them billions gave their lives, unwillingly, so that a select few could survive. When the fleet had finally cast off, the quartermaster had told him that only four hundred million had survived to be ferried aboard the ships. Or.... had it been five hundred million? It was so very long ago...
Pyotr had plotted the course for the fleet; he knew they would never be safe close to Earth, even if that "close" were decided on the scale of the universe. He knew of the jump points, he had found them with his senses, the barely remembered glimpses of star-maps as his only guide, and he set the fleet on a course for the closest. The jump gate technology was stolen, barely understood by the engineers... how was he to have known? How?
The people who scurried around him thought him dead - to the world, at least, even if the machines kept his body alive. A figurehead, they whispered, just a puppet for us to parade before the masses as a God.
With a groan that sent jolts of sharp pain through his skull, he set his mind to looking over the ship, like a man patting himself down after a fall. Everything appeared to be in order, nothing had gone wrong during his absence; the steady rumble of the ship's rotation around the core was still the same; the hum of the fusion generators was no different than ever; the ferocious roar of the engines continued to drive nails through his skull...
- well done - he whispered into the recesses of his mind.
- as always... - it whispered back.
His inspection complete, Pyotr cast his mind further afield, sending his gaze across the fleet. Eighteen ships there were now, including his flagship. Eighteen where once there had been over a hundred. He remembered - through a dreamlike haze - the construction of these ships, in the orbit of the homeworld, Earth. It had taken decades, while below them billions gave their lives, unwillingly, so that a select few could survive. When the fleet had finally cast off, the quartermaster had told him that only four hundred million had survived to be ferried aboard the ships. Or.... had it been five hundred million? It was so very long ago...
Pyotr had plotted the course for the fleet; he knew they would never be safe close to Earth, even if that "close" were decided on the scale of the universe. He knew of the jump points, he had found them with his senses, the barely remembered glimpses of star-maps as his only guide, and he set the fleet on a course for the closest. The jump gate technology was stolen, barely understood by the engineers... how was he to have known? How?
The journey to the jump point had been long. Fifty years, perhaps, maybe more... Pyotr had long forgotten such little details...
During that time, the people had grown used to their new existence. The new routines had become the old and familiar, and new generations were coming into being. Pyotr had felt the presence of psionic power amongst this newborns, and known that soon he would not be alone in the guiding of the fleet. Not that the guiding had been such a hard task, not then. That was when the logic engines had still functioned, the computers that automated the basic functions; ship rotation, power core temp. management, and the such. That was before...
By the time they had reached the jump point, he had already gathered some disciples, children who exhibited the psionic potential. He had begun to teach them some control over the power. But not enough... they were still children, still growing into their power, and would not become the tools he had needed for many years to come, when it was far too late.
The jump gate technology had been stolen from the Foe. It was barely understood by the engineers. How was he to have known? How?
- excuses... I warned you... I did try... - it whispered sadly.
The jump gate. The gate generator was was a great ring, strapped to the middle part of the cylindrical ships, connected to it by spokes, like a giant wheel. When sufficient power was channeled through to it, it could tear a hole through space and time, and transport the ship to a destination, determined by the ship's computer. Sufficient power could only be found at the jump points, systems - often starless - that trapped energy that passed through it, and concentrated it into an invisible mass. Theoretically, the gate generator was designed to draw power directly from these points. Theoretically, the gate generator could survive such a power surge. Theoretically, no harm could come to the ship being transported by the jump gate.
During that time, the people had grown used to their new existence. The new routines had become the old and familiar, and new generations were coming into being. Pyotr had felt the presence of psionic power amongst this newborns, and known that soon he would not be alone in the guiding of the fleet. Not that the guiding had been such a hard task, not then. That was when the logic engines had still functioned, the computers that automated the basic functions; ship rotation, power core temp. management, and the such. That was before...
By the time they had reached the jump point, he had already gathered some disciples, children who exhibited the psionic potential. He had begun to teach them some control over the power. But not enough... they were still children, still growing into their power, and would not become the tools he had needed for many years to come, when it was far too late.
The jump gate technology had been stolen from the Foe. It was barely understood by the engineers. How was he to have known? How?
- excuses... I warned you... I did try... - it whispered sadly.
The jump gate. The gate generator was was a great ring, strapped to the middle part of the cylindrical ships, connected to it by spokes, like a giant wheel. When sufficient power was channeled through to it, it could tear a hole through space and time, and transport the ship to a destination, determined by the ship's computer. Sufficient power could only be found at the jump points, systems - often starless - that trapped energy that passed through it, and concentrated it into an invisible mass. Theoretically, the gate generator was designed to draw power directly from these points. Theoretically, the gate generator could survive such a power surge. Theoretically, no harm could come to the ship being transported by the jump gate.
:rofl: I'd forgotten about that. Put it in your signature, with a link, so nobody forgets.
Thank god. I was thinking of just starting with 15 players if noone signed up today.
Also, why does noone choose an RP name? Its really not that hard
Now I have to assign 14 or so names off the top of my head. Now maybe I can convince pevergreen to sign up...
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