
Diplomatic processes are passed on through the ages. They predate most civilisations. They have to; the risks posed by physical promiscuity between wildly different lifeforms are just too great. Diseases, micro-espionage, biological timebombs, you name it. The little monks of the moon know it. They claim that empires follow dark ages in an eternal cycle; this is not the first time the peoples of the Galaxy have convened together on neutral ground to discuss common interests. And they insist that ancient diplomatic processes put paramount emphasis on physical separation. Force fields make it easier, of course.
So, no tentacle-shaking today.
The rules might be old, but the station itself is brand new. Will it stand the test of time? I wouldn’t know; I am merely a scribe. I have been charged to record the words and deeds of the ambassadors, with a long term perspective. My target audience lives one million year in the future, at least, for such a long time relevancy is the stated ambition of the group that fitted the moon base for diplomatic purposes. No one alive will ever consume this report.
Let's discover the ambassadors who have already settled on the moon with their retinues. I won’t actually introduce them to you, nor will I speak to them; remember, I work for the future, not for the present.
Baron Hoyt, the Cheehot ambassador, looks happy to be here. His yacht arrived first, and he scored what he deems to be the choicest quarters for the Imperial embassy, with a great exposition to the light of the Core. Humour is not my forte, so I will refrain from evaluating the quality of the many puns and light jokes he seems to use for punctuation. Baron Hoyt is not that much interested in negotiating peace, so he spends his considerable free time fencing and threatening his friends with slashing devices. I think there is also some romance involved, but at a level I do not entirely comprehend. The fellow is small, most of the time; every four hours or so, he interfaces with some kind of vegetal machinery whose official purpose is listed as a bed, though I suspect sexual entertainment is what it's all about. The thing makes him double in size for a short few hours.

Hoyt, the Cheehot swashbuckler turned ambassador, favours this sword, stolen to an enemy.
Tsog, the Cthulh envoy, is his exact opposite. A thoughtful diplomat, supposedly a poet, his huge hulk of a body navigates the drowned corridors of his section of the base with restless disquiet. His pet activity is scrutinising, a lot, anything. The rest of the time, he looks to be digesting his thoughts. He barely converses with the other Cthulh. Sometimes they hold meetings. They disagree a lot. They drowned their quarters but did not remove the furniture that was in place. Out of laziness, maybe. Politically, the Cthulh have yet to make an official announcement; they have been content to just stare at the other parties.

The robot majordomo at the entrance desk of the Cthulh embassy.
I don’t know yet what to think of the ambassador of the Throne, Son Excellence Kap. In front of his peers, the creature is doing his best to make a good first impression, but he does so without telling much about himself, his species and his government. He just can’t be that shy. Keeping mum about some state secrets? The social interactions within the Letho delegation are the hardest to pierce. What is clear, however, is their interest in the station and its technology. They have been marauding all over the place. They even tried to get themselves invited in the other embassies, unsuccessfully so far.
Last but not the least, the Aego diplomat behaves like a very serious person in exile in a mad country. He is both guarded and melancholic. Or maybe he is sick. Not happy to be here, for sure. He may actually be an exile. I wonder if his name, Professor Murder, provides any clue about the reason he was selected to reside on the diplomatic moon.
***
OK guys, ladies, the rules if you would like to participate (minor interactivity sanctioned by Qorden): I am going to start the AAR, using one of those four civs. I play on Ironman, max size, 4 arms. Each time a civ is discovered, you have the possibility to play the role of their ambassador to the diplomatic moon. Just play the role; if your character of the moment tries to interact with one of the four ambassadors above, I will respond accordingly within 48 hours.
My goal is to tell a good story and have fun with it. I will start the AAR next post.

And... I'm starting not far from the edge of the intergalactic abyss. Now I understand why Professor Murder arrived after the other ambassadors.
Last edited: