#the other likes toy starships | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kanerallels · 10 days

Text

Day two of @spectre-week is for our beloved Captain Hera and oh BOY did I just barely finish this fic in time. Had to scrap my old one, then finished this in a haze of panic yesterday. But I actually stand by this! (It is low key set in my Steve Miller Au but you don't need prior knowledge of it to read this. Just enjoy!)

Once upon a time, Hera Syndulla was an only child.

And then, quite suddenly, when she was six years old, she wasn’t any more. Her mother, Eleni, told her she was going to have a baby brother or sister and Hera, well, she was excited, if a little wary. She’d seen her friends playing with their siblings, though she’d also seen them bickering and stealing things from each other.

But Eleni told her she was going to be an amazing big sister, and her father was glowing with pride and happiness, boasting to his friends and co-workers, and Hera decided it probably wouldn’t be so bad. At least she’d have someone to play starships with.

Time ticked by, and Eleni’s belly grew, and she spent more time sitting down than standing. When she got up, she groaned about her swollen ankles, but she was still happy. And so was Cham.

The day when the baby came was long, and hard. Hera hated the sound of her mother in pain, and she could tell her father did, too. He paced the length of their house again and again, and told her mother that they should go to a hospital, that she needed help.

But Eleni was insistent. She wanted a home birth, assisted by midwives, in Ryloth tradition. So Cham gritted his teeth and paced, and Hera stayed curled up in her favorite chair, wincing at every cry.

But the end came, and with it, joy, and a new baby brother. Hera sat on her mother’s bed as Cham cradled both Eleni and the new baby close, then took her little brother out to show him off to the relatives. Then she hugged her mother, who kissed her on the forehead.

“I’m fine,” she told Hera. “Just because it’s scary doesn’t mean it’s bad. Your brother is here, safe and sound.”

Hera was a little unsure about the first part— at first. But then, finally, when Cham was back, he gently put her brother in her arms. Their eyes met, wide, for the first time, and Cham said, “Hera, meet Devaar Syndulla. Your little brother.”

“He’s tiny,” Hera breathed, staring at him. His lekku were barely stubs, his skin a delicate shade of green, like she and her mother’s. His eyes were orange, though, like her father’s, and they held hers with a wondering confusion.

“You were at first, too,” Eleni said. “He’ll grow. But he’ll need a big sister to look after him.”

“I will,” Hera promised.

True to her word, Hera kept a close eye on Devaar— which everyone quickly shortened to Dev. Unfortunately, for the first several months, he didn’t do much interesting. Other than cry and sleep and eat.

But, in a way that was painstakingly slow, yet flew by, he grew. Soon he was crawling, and then Hera had a lot of work to do, helping her mother keep him out of trouble.

It only got worse when he learned to walk. Dev had inherited his parent’s propensity for trouble, according to Cham, who laughed proudly and swung him in the air, eliciting gurgles of laughter. He made bolts for the door and for the dangerous stairs, trying to grab hold of pointy things and sharp objects.

Hera got very good at distracting him, oftentimes with her toy starships. She kept her favorite (a VCX freighter) hidden on a shelf where he couldn’t chew on it or break it, but showed him how to fly around the gunships and the starfighters.

Some of them even matched the ones they began to see overhead, more and more. Hera’s father was clearly concerned about them— and one day, it came to a head. The Republic was at war, and Ryloth was caught in the middle.

Hera and her family had to go into hiding, which Dev did not appreciate. But the bombings were dangerous, and the Separatists hated Cham. The feeling was very mutual. Hera’s father spent most of his time away from them, fighting against the invaders and alongside the Jedi and Republic troops.

While she knew it was dangerous, Hera liked to watch the ships soaring overhead. There was a spot not too far from their hideout underground where she could see out of an old drainage tunnel, and she could watch the gunships passing. Sometimes— only when it was safe and her mother was napping— she brought the one year old Dev, carefully watching him to make sure he didn’t run off.

“I’ll be up there one day,” she whispered to him. “Flying, like them.”

Dev babbled something that sounded like encouragement, and Hera decided to take it as such.

After what felt like years, the bombs stopped, and Hera’s father came home, his eyes wearier than last time he’d been with them. They were safe, he said, from the Separatists. And he brought with him a company of clones, who helped Hera, Dev, her mother, and all the other refugees return home safely.

Home was a little worse for wear, but Eleni always liked a project. They started fixing things up, and Hera was just starting to wonder if life would be normal again.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Dev got sick.

It was just a cough that wouldn’t go away at first, paired with a runny nose. But then it got worse, until the cough sounded like it was tearing apart his lungs. A fever sprang to life, and Dev was wailing with pain.

They tried everything. Antibiotics, half a dozen Republic drugs and even more old remedies that Eleni’s mother had used on her. Nothing seemed to work. Dev got sicker, and sicker, his skin pale and his movements listless. Soon, he barely moved at all, and Hera could read the fear on her parent’s faces.

They thought her little brother was going to die.

He can’t, Hera thought, staring at Dev. She’d stuck by his bed since the fever started, watching over him. Giving him water and cooling him with wet cloths. To think that her little brother would just… be gone? He couldn’t be. The galaxy wouldn’t do something so cruel.

Please, she thought. I’ll do anything. We can’t lose Dev.

Her answer came two hours later, in the form of a knock at the door.

Cham and Eleni had prepared for the worse. They were crouched next to Dev’s bed, tears in Eleni’s eyes and helplessness in Cham’s. Neither of them looked up at the knock. But Hera did.

Getting up, she walked downstairs to the door, keeping her steps quiet so she wouldn’t disturb her parents. Pulling open the door, she started to tell whichever neighbor it was that they didn’t want visitors right now.

But it wasn’t a neighbor. It wasn’t anyone she’d ever met before.

The human woman was hooded and cloaked in white, but when she looked at Hera, Hera could tell she was smiling, even under the shadows. “Hello,” she said, her voice holding an unfamiliar accent. “You must be Hera. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Who are you?” Hera asked, confused. “Are you a friend of my father’s?”

“I’m afraid I’ve never had the pleasure. But the Force told me to come here. I’m here to help your brother.”

That was all Hera needed to hear. Wordlessly, she stepped aside, and the woman came inside.

Eleni didn’t move when they entered the bedroom, but Cham looked up at the sound of the woman’s arrival. Wariness flashed across his face, and he rose, making a barrier between his wife and child and the stranger. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Forgive me for intruding,” the woman said, her voice soft and calm. “As I told your daughter, the Force sent me here. I believe—”

“She said she can help Dev,” Hera blurted out, and then Eleni looked up.

Gaze locking onto the woman, she rose and pushed past Cham. “Can you?” she asked, looking directly at their guest.

“I can.”

“Then please.” Eleni’s voice cracked. “Please. We cannot lose him.”

“I will do everything I can,” the woman promised.

She looked at Cham, seemingly questioning. Cham hesitated, then said, “You’re a Jedi?”

The woman seemed to hesitate briefly. “Not— exactly. But I promise, I am here to help your son. Let me try, and if you think I’m hurting him, you may remove me.”

Cham’s jaw worked, but he glanced at Eleni and Hera, then at the bed where his son lay. Then he nodded, moving to the side. “Do what you can.”

The woman was at Dev’s side in an instant, pushing back her cowl a little as she knelt. Moving to watching her, Hera saw her rest a hand, marked with geometric tattoos along the back, on Dev’s head.

“He is very weak,” she said. “But I can help. It will take a little while, so—”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Eleni said.

The woman’s smile was just visible. “Of course. You may wish to make some caf, though.”

Cham made a little, and they settled in to wait. Even Hera got a mug, and found she actually enjoyed it— with milk and a little sugar. They sat together and waited, watching and hoping desperately.

It didn’t seem like the woman was doing anything. She was just kneeling there, a hand resting on Dev’s forehead. She didn’t say anything or bring out any props. She just knelt, eyes closed, for a long time. So long that Hera was starting to nod off against her father when a noise cut through her sleepiness.

It was a cry. Dev’s voice.

Hera’s eyes flew open, and all three of them bolted to their feet as the woman rose. “He’ll be alright,” she told them, and Eleni burst into tears. “Give him some water and a little tea tonight. Tomorrow you can give him food.”

Cham, tears in his own eyes as he put an arm around Eleni, said, “How can we repay you?”

Shaking her head, the woman said, “No payment necessary.” Giving them a little bow, she headed down the stairs.

Cham and Eleni went immediately to Dev’s side, gathering him up in their arms. For a moment, Hera hesitated. Then she followed the woman.

Their mysterious guest had already made it out the door and a little ways down the street when Hera caught up with her. It was late, and three of the moons were full and bright above them.

“Wait!” Hera called out, and the woman stopped, turning to face her. Her cowl was lowered, and her face was kind, with bright blue eyes and dark tattoos.

Pausing, Hera struggled for words, then asked, “Why? Why did you help us?”

Smiling, the woman said, “Because you needed it. And because an old friend asked me to.”

“How?”

“The Force flows through all living things,” the woman told her. “I just gave it a little nudge in this case.”

Hera nodded slowly, wrapping her mind around the words. “And you’re… not a Jedi?”

“Admittedly, it is a little complicated,” the woman said thoughtfully. “I was, at one point. Perhaps I still am. But I think what’s most important is that your brother is still alive. Perhaps he’ll help the galaxy someday. And so, I think, will you, Hera Syndulla.”

She smiled, and turned, walking down the road. Soon, she was out of sight.

But Hera never forgot it. Forgot what the Jedi had done for her family. Especially not, years later, when she saw someone do the same thing, far above Gorse.

It wasn’t the first miraculous thing she’d seen, and it was far from the last. Her journey was just beginning.

#tales of the spectres #spectre week 2024 #spectre week #star wars rebels #swr #hera syndulla #eleni syndulla #cham syndulla #dev syndulla #time travel #the steve miller au #writing stories is a kind of magic too #barriss offee

20 notes · View notes

indierpgnewsletter · 4 months

Text

Playing Metamorphosis Alpha (1976)

(This was originally published in the Indie RPG Newsletter)

This week, we officially kick off a year's worth of intermittent posting about games from 1975 to 1985. We start off with Metamorphosis Alpha, a game by James Ward, published by TSR in 1976.

The pitch of Metamorphosis Alpha is wild. You play people aboard a giant starship that on its journey through space was irradiated and turned into a wacky wonderland. The ship is huge - 50 miles long and 17 levels. It's a megadungeon with whole biomes in it. The people aboard the ship have essentially had their society break down with mutated folk and non-mutated folk separating and fracturing into a thousand different communities. A lot of knowledge of the ship has been lost and now, life is mostly about survival.

Mutation is at the heart of this game. It's both a worldbuilding principle (anything is possible! just say it's a mutation!) and an invitation to make off-the-wall weirdest bunch of freaky little guys you could hope for. Character creation is easily the most fun part of the game. You can play a normal human (boo!), a mutant person, a mutant animal, or, wait for it, a mutant plant! Yes, my green friends, you can absolutely play a plant. In my game, which we dubbed the Preposterous Adventures of Peacock and Plant, the two players were, you guessed it, a peacock and a plant. Or rather, a peacock-person and a plant-person. Or to be even more precise, a peacock with six hands and a levitating ficus.

While stats are randomly rolled (3d6 down the line), you get to pick your mutations. For physical mutations, you could pick having wings or gills. For mental mutations (usually limited to one), you could pick precognition or telekinesis or telepathy or... death field generation? It's a gonzo buffet.

I don't particularly like the term "lonely fun". I think "lonely" stopped being a synonym for "alone" a while ago and now it's mostly used to mean "sadness about being alone". There's nothing sad about sitting by yourself and playing a game. For both the GM and players, Metamorphosis Alpha's big gift is solo fun. The GM is invited to make this big starship, piece by piece, stocking it with whatever nonsense they can imagine. The players are given this toy box with pretty clear rules so they can spend all the time they want making the choicest weirdo.

How does it play? Good question, disembodied voice! Well, it doesn't really. The actual rules of the game felt like little islands that you could visit but if you didn't, you were wandering adrift. There are six stats. Radiation Resistance, only used when exposed to radiation. Mental Resistance, used for psychic attacks and defending from them. Leadership Potential, which is used to see if someone will follow you and join your party. And then Strength, Dexterity and Constitution which are for combat.

So outside of being irradiated, trying to recruit a follower, or fighting, the game doesn't really have any rules to invoke. There is no core mechanic as you're probably used to. People who have played OD&D will recognize this but for others, I have to explain how weird that feels. You don't just roll the dice when making a jump or when trying to persuade a person or examining a door or literally anything outside the situations mentioned above. There is no ability check or saving throw. It was honestly like playing a PbtA game with four very specific moves and nothing else.

I didn't want to just ignore this in play so I didn't houserule it away. We stuck to the text and anytime the characters wanted to do something dangerous or tricky, we just talked through it. This wasn't great. Not just because we missed rolling dice. For me, this was tough because there was the stark tonal shift from character creation to play. When we made characters, it seemed like a saturday morning cartoon. But when we played, the primary method for progress was getting the GM to agree that your action should succeed. You can't just roll for success, you have to convince the GM. But on what basis is the GM supposed to decide? If I was being an impartial referee, thinking about physics and realism and so on, my job is to say "no" to wacky ideas that would be home in a saturday morning cartoon. In the end, I didn't want to spend my time saying no and chose to embrace my players' wacky ideas. We had a fun game and since the players wanted to avoid all the combat, we basically never touched the dice.

I'm not sure what to make of this. Is this one of those "objective successfully failed" situations? I'm really interested in hearing from folks who played this game or its successor, Gamma World. Which way did you fall? Survival dungeoncrawl or saturday morning cart

PS: This is how stats like Radiation Resistance are used. When the situation arises, you look down at a look-up table! Radiation level on the x-axis and your stat on the y-axis. The result is the amount of dice you take as damage, I think. If you get a D, that's instant death. But every turn when you're exposed, your stat temporarily goes down by one. So you have to keep rechecking the table every turn.

#ttrpg community #ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpgsolidarity #game design #rpg

39 notes · View notes

the-kingofdoritos · 8 months

Text

Llwch ar yr aelwyd - mechanisms fanfiction

There were only the two of them left. Only two Mechanisms left. Just Brian and The Toy Soldier.

The others had all left, died or had gone missing without a trace. It had been horrible, but after a milenia Brian had gotten used to it. He had almost gotten used to the overwhelming loneliness that penetrated through his whole brass body. Even with the toy soldier as company, it just made him miss the others even more. He knew it was almost his time.

And so he had decided to land the Aurora on a small planet in the middle of nowhere. It was warm, there were flowers, and it was very pretty. And a nice place to spend his last day alive. The toy soldier had the good idea to go and watch the sunrise, as it seemed to realise what Brian was about to do.

And so they find an old battered blanket, it's covered in blood (Jonnys) and what seem to be a few other substances, and it smells familiar. They end up sitting down on that to watch the sunrise one last time.

“It's very beautiful isn't it, old chap?” the toy soldier pipes up. It's sitting cross legged, its wooden arms perched on either of its knees. The permanently painted smile seems much more downcast than usual.

“It is,” Brain agrees, though he doesn't look away from the sky to answer it’s question.

The sky is bathed in a bright orange, yellow, dark blue and a plethora of colours that seem too vibrant to be real. The sun peaks up from behind a dull mountain rage. He can't help but think that jonny and tim would complain about how boring it would be to watch a sunrise, but how they wouldn't move and would lay there in the grass next to him, small smiles on their faces.

How ashes would compare it to a raging fire.

How Marius would be playing his violin, one he would have pulled out of thin air.

How Raphaella would be trying to explain the scientific reason for a sunrise, and how the sky’s colours changed and other scientist things.

How ivy would be reading a book, not even listening or watching the others. But she would remark that the sky is incredibly pretty, and how she wished he had done something like this before.

Brian wished he could cry, but Carmilla hadn't given him tear ducts. At one time he was incredibly grateful for this, but now it just seems like a cruel joke. He can't even cry about his friend's family’s death.

He wishes they had more time. But he knows that would be cruel. None of them were ever truly happy, and they hadn't been since Nastya left. She almost seems like a fever dream now, and Brian can't say he even remembers much about her. And that hurts, stings and breaks his human heart.

“Toy soldier,” he speaks with a wavering voice, one of the only ways he can show emotion.

“Yes Brian?” it asks.

“Can… Can I have a hug?” he whispers it, because if he speaks any louder he will break down into ugly sobs. And then jonny would make fun of him because it would be a waste of a perfectly good morning.

“Of course you can,” its wooden arms wrap around his brass body, and he leans into it. Carmilla did put in nerves, and for that he is grateful. He cant feel temperature though, but if he could he knows the toy soldier is wooden and would be quite cold.

And there the two last Mechanisms stay, wrapped up in each other's arms.

The sun is gracing the sky with its brightness by the time either of them move.

Going back onto the cold and silent starship, back onto the Aurora who had stopped responding to them when Nastya had left. It almost feels like a deathwish, but Brian nor the Toy Soldier hesitate when entering the ship one last time. It feels like one last goodbye. And Brian knows it's the end.

That night, the airlock is open and waiting for him. A cup of tea on a table by it. His heart swells with joy for one last time as he drinks the warm beverage. He doesn't see the toy soldier, but he knows the tea is its way of saying goodbye. He can't think of what will happen to it when he’s gone, because that would be cruel.

The airlock is familiar, it's cold, and it's his death. And for one final time, he feels warm. And then it's gone as the coldness of space digs into his brass skin freezing him from the outside in as he completes the cycle. One last time.

The first mechanism died in space, and so did the last one. He became a mechanism in the vast coldness of space and ended his time as a mechanism in the vast coldness of space. The cycle is complete, one last time.

~He's not for heaven, nor yet for hell~

~Lost in the cosmos, Lonely~

#the mechanisms #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #angst #why did i write this #the mechanisms fanfic #death to the mechanisms #jonny d'ville #ashes o'reilly #gunpowder tim #tw death #all the characters are just mentioned (besides brian and ts)#i miss these fuckers soooo much

41 notes · View notes

weerd1 · 10 months

Text

Yet another tale of how much I owe Star Trek

So this is something I haven’t talked about in years, but I was feeling nostalgic today and wanted to capture something. I wanted to write down how Star Trek got me through adolescence.

Now, I’d already begun decoding Trek and it was already untying the knots my conservative upbringing was instilling from a young age. I can talk about “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” being so on the nose, but 11 year old me NEEDING to see that message about skin color so badly. However, this is not about Trek making me a better person (which it did); this is about Trek helping me learn how to BE a person. Much more after the jump...

When I was in sixth grade, in about 1984 (I’m 50 now for reference) I got a copy of the old FASA Star Trek role-playing game. Please keep in mind that at this point, there is TOS, TAS, three movies, the novels, and a few comics, but that’s about it. I was consuming and reconsuming them voraciously when I got this game. As a small-for-his-age, nerdy, poor kid living in a trailer, the idea that I could roll a few dice and…BE in Star Trek was a potent elixir.

Other people around me were growing up. Toys cast aside, actually interacting with other people in nascent romances; I was rushing home to watch GI Joe and Transformers after school. I was playing with Star Wars figures. I was now going through Starfleet Academy, and all it took was a pencil and 2D10. (Sidenote- the FASA RPG system remains one of my favorite RPGs second only to Fantasy Flight Games’ Star Wars system.) It was a way of adding the unknown to fanfiction I was already writing through my MEGO Trek figures.

I created a character, a descendant of my own (the biggest fantasy at that time being that I would ever find someone with whom I could start a line of descendants), promoted them to Captain and looking in the “Federation Ship Recognition Manual,” picked out a starship: the NCC-1754 USS Kitty Hawk.

My adventures had begun. Borrowing PLENTY from my heroes, my character was half-Vulcan, and 100% self-insert. To me, this was the POINT of an RPG. It was me, but the version of me I wished I could be.

As the year went by, I picked up MORE novels and managed to find more TOS episodes (mostly on videodisc at a local place called “Movies to Go”). My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Toresdahl, was a Trekkie and would spend time he probably should have spent convincing me to do homework talking trivia. I would pick up the supplemental bits of the RPG: The Star Trek III Starship Combat Game, the miniatures, modules, reference books.

Probably the most important was when I got “The Romulans” which were certainly my favorite Trek villain. This was helped along in NO small part by Diane Duane and her novels starting with “My Enemy, My Ally,” and later “The Romulan Way.” Without a whole lot coming out of Paramount for Star Trek at the time, there was a lot of borrowing between the existing media.

The RPG borrowed from the novels. The DC Comics series which started after the film “The Wrath of Khan” borrowed from the RPG.*

There was a congruence of some sort forming, and being as into the RPG as I was, it made me pretty well versed in all the lore. I started finding (and eventually writing for) fanzines at that point. I scoured “Starlog” magazine for Trek news and opinion. I was dead set that I would not rest until I knew all there was to know about Star Trek.

When I started 7th Grade, there was a shift in the world around me. Junior High meant multiple classes and even “electives.” Again, the whole physical specter of preteen sexuality was unfolding (and the examples around a young boy in the mid-eighties were seldom the healthiest). It was like I’d landed suddenly after the summer on a whole new planet, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with it all.

But luckily, I had access to a version of me for whom landing on strange, new worlds was old hat.

And so, I began what I can only now call LARPing life. I decided I WAS Captain Daomer. I invented an intricate “campaign” for myself, where 23rd Century Romulans (thanks again, Ms. Duane) had come back to Earth’s past to change our history, prevent the Federation from forming.** Just luckily, the Kitty Hawk was monitoring tachyon emissions in a singularity adjacent to the Sol system, and picked up the coming changes to the causality chain. At the last minute a hasty slingshot maneuver around the black hole had taken me and my crew to the time and place of the primary Romulan incursion: Southern Arizona in 1985. Of course.

Now, was this just a protective shell inside my head where I would pretend to be Captain Daomer pretending to be Daniel dealing with the intricacies of social interaction in the 7th grade? Of COURSE not. I told anyone who would listen the whole story.

For about the next six years.

I was in a small enough town that my school, Palominas Elementary, was a K-8. I’d been with the same folks and staff more or less my entire school career. So, when I had to take a bus 30 minutes away to the nearest town to begin attending High School, did I change the story? Did I keep it to myself? Oh no; if anything I became MORE flamboyant about it. Still a skinny nerd, I wasn’t picked on. Why? Because that kid’s the “Spock Guy,” and why would anyone mess with that Spock Guy?

Something important DID change between my Freshman and Sophomore year though. Star Trek: The Next Generation debuted. So, I had to update my story a bit. My half-Vulcan character had returned to the 23rd century, continued his career, and in the 24th century, after being promoted to Commodore and as a fleet commander claiming the new Galaxy-Class USS Kitty Hawk as my flagship, had discovered post-Tomed Romulans were up to their old tricks. That allowed me a real coup at one point, as I had caught through some fan publication early wind of Denise Crosby leaving the show, and “accidentally” dropped my knowledge that Lt. Tasha Yar was going to die before it happened on the TV. Proof of future knowledge!

My Junior year, I was approached by a fellow student who was writing for the school paper and wanted to interview me. We spent a couple of class periods talking about my “backstory” and I realized this person knew at least as much—if not more—about Trek than I did. The school paper never did run the interview, but some 35 years later that kid, Will Schwartz (yes, THE Schwartz) remains my best friend.

I had already started to slow the story down a bit the summer before my Senior year, but also that summer, well, I met a girl. We were hitting it off. But when she mentioned going out with me, the school grapevine was quick to ask, “Are you dating that Spock Guy?”

And she didn’t run away. Indeed, when she’d once demonstrated she knew all the lyrics to Neil Young’s “After The Gold Rush,” I figured she was a girl I should talk into marrying me. When she accepted I was that Spock guy, because after all, her Dad was a Trekkie and had an AMAZING collection of science fiction paperbacks, well that clinched it for me. Today, Jennifer and I are celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary.

So, as I went out into the world after high school, did I never call on Commodore Daomer again? I can’t say never. Sometimes in a military career when facing danger, or briefing an officer with stars on their shoulders, a mask of stoic Vulcan control would come out of that box in the attic of my brain and get me through. But more directly, Star Trek, and my immersion thereof got me through 7th to 12th grade and gave me a broader world view, a friend for decades, and helped me identify the love of my life.

Thank you Star Trek for all of that. Thank you creators for the assist. Thank you fellow fans for helping it be such a rich world, and thank you Commodore Daomer for your 24th Century wisdom.

One little coda. I still watch a lot of Star Trek. Old, new…I don’t like everything that comes out, but I love it all, and that’s something I think some fans struggle with. However, there was a lovely new starship introduced not long ago, and I had to immediately find a fan produced model and make some custom changes.

The Kitty Hawk-A goes boldly... Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.

*The DC series had some wonderful early issues ALSO written by Diane Duane! Who can forget the Ajir and the Grond? Or McCoy accessing Spock’s katra still lurking within? Wonderful. The fact I’m mutuals here on Tumblr with someone who was such an influence to young me is probably the thing about my life now the kid in the trailer would be most skeptical of.

**Thanks to Strange New Worlds for canonizing this, by the way.

#star trek #long post #meta #personal #Roleplaying #starships

46 notes · View notes

oceanlue · 1 year

Note

if your requests are open can we PLEASE get some headcanons of making out with the YV boys?

Absolutely and sorry for the long wait it's been really hectic in life

Making out 💋 😘

💗Alphonse 🍭🧁

After a long day of work and dealing with people you just want to sit down and relax while you watch a movie with your little cinnamon roll

But I think he had other plans

After you guys came home from work you decide to sit down and watch a movie

And a few minutes after the movie was playing he started to get a little cuddly

Then a little handsy

And then he started to kiss you up your neck making you weak for him

And then it turned to soft kissing to a full make out Session

And while you guys were having your little session you finally pulled away and stared at each other

"Damn boo *huff* if I knew you were going to be like Dat I would have brought a little something extra but how about we take this from the couch to the bed"

Have dun with your mind of that

🧡Seth 🏕🍂

Both of you were having a fun time he took you for a drive on his Harley and you felt so free with the wind in your hair

Then you two decide to make camp in the woods looking up at the stars as Seth tells you lots of stories and apparently the Mothman

But we love him too much to tell him to shut up

After a little bit it was now a quiet night as you both stared up at the star sky and thinking about the future

And then Seth had a great idea he started to kiss your cheek your forehead your ear and then your lips soft kisses filled with passion of love and embrace but then it got a little heated

You guys were now in a full makeout session and there was no stopping

" well sugar if we're going to have this much fun I reckon we better head into a tent when want any stragglers to see what we're doing"

*wink*

Hey you know what they say

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy

💚Finn 🪴🌻

Now I know what you're thinking

He's too sweet to start something so naughty

So you're basically going to have to start instead

After been closed his flower shop you were upstairs with some fresh fruits from the garden and vegetables and starting to make dinner

He came up behind you hugged you with the warm from you and him it was a nice little moment

So you decide to ruin the moment

You turned around held his cheek in your hand and gave him a soft kiss as he blushed a fierce red across his face as he stutters with the cute little mumbles he does

Then a few more kisses on his face on his cheek forehead is cute nose and then passionate kiss on his lips

You two can stop and he was now cornered on the counter with your arms trapping him in as you continue to take his breath away

" dear......oh my well......orchid this was something but maybe we ....should have this session after dinner"

Have fun

❤Auron☕🖋

It was work time and everyone was on the clock busy until lunch time

Has lunch time rolled around you are on your way to deliver some papers to your boss(sexy boss he is)

And as you were walking you got pulled into a Supply Closet ( he says this in the audio too look it up if you don't believe me)

You're about to turn around to the culprit and yell at him but he pinned you down to the wall

Turns out it was your boss and he was giving you that God damn sexy smirk that made your knees weak

You're going to question him but he looked deep into your eyes as both of you at the same desire he put his forehead to yours as if asking for permission

And you nod

He then starts to give you so much passion in the one kiss that you can hold yourself up so he had to carry you by your thighs

It was getting a little bit much more heated as he was going to take his tie off but stopped cuz you remembered your both at work

" Don't Worry My Little rookie we can finish this little session when we go to my place and I have new toys for us to try out and I think you might like that, isn't that right...pet"

I'm about to have fun ...

well I'll see you guys later

--------------

Hope you love this

I want to apologize if I haven't been on and writing stuff more frequently it's some situations in my life that must take action first before any writing or drawing I do with my mental health and my physical well-being I hope you all understand

But you guys can send in more ask if you want to I will get to them when I can

Thank you

💙💙💙

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice auron #oceanlue #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #spotify

129 notes · View notes

mechs-whos-more-likely-to · 6 months

Text

Aurora included because I am a believer that a starship should be able to be afraid if it can have other feelings.

#Toy Soldier has been winning a lot of these polls #but I think this one will finally break the pattern #let’s hope I don’t eat my words later #ashes o'reilly #drumbot brian #fandom polls #gunpowder tim #ivy alexandria #jonny d'ville #marius von raum #nastya rasputina #poll #raphaella la cognizi #the toy soldier

20 notes · View notes

dumbasswithapen · 5 months

Note

You're reblogging some fantastic stuff about The Mechs (coming from a tma fan) is there anything else you can tell me about it? I'm deadly curious and very interested in seeing more of Jon Sims' work

hello!!!! I am so normal about the mechanisms (lying) but am not good at describing things so if you want, like, The Intro Post To The Mechs than @x-ca1iber has it and that’s much more fine tuned but I shall try my best! This may be… a bit of an infodump, and not very concise.

base content warnings for mechs, not this post but the mechs as a band and their stories: violence, so much violence, lots of death, war, general tragedy, British people (ew)

okay. So. The basics! The Mechanisms were a 9 person folk cabaret band who told stories in their albums and songs that were based on mythology and stories (more on that later)

Outside of these stories they played individual characters, a space, steampunk pirate crew of immortals roaming the universe aboard a sentient starship named the Aurora and finding tragedies to tell through their albums. They're, as I mentioned, immortal, through a mechanism (not to be confused with The Mechanisms, the name of their crew lol. They weren’t very creative with that) A mechanism is a replacement for a part (or in some cases several parts) of one’s body made of metal and shit, that causes regeneration if you die. And this shit isn’t light, it is totally possible to regen from being, for instance… shoved into a sun for a century. so basically, crew of immortals making stories they witness into albums and playing the roles of people in those stories.

For a fan of tma, the most recognizable part of this is 4 people in the crew (though only 3 are major characters in tma) Jonny Sims, of course, plays Jon in tma and Jonny D’ville (he/him) in the mechanisms. (He is… perhaps not the most creative with naming his character) Jonny D’ville is the first mate (NOT captain. Though he would say he was) of the Aurora, and his mechanism is his heart. He was the first person in the crew, and the first to become immortal. He’s also the lead singer, and plays harmonica. Frank Voss plays Basira in tma, and in the mechs plays Ashes O’Reilly (they/them) an arsonist crime boss, ship’s quartermaster, whose mechanism is their lungs! Jessica Law plays Nikola Orsinov in tma, and in the mechs she plays The Toy Soldier (it/its) The Toy Soldier is… a bit of an outlier, in that it wasn’t ever mechanized, wasn’t ever “made” immortal. It is simply a sentient clockwork toy, with a voice box stolen from a human it had been in love with. (Somehow jess is typecast as an unsettling dollike entity twice in a thing created in part by Jonny sims) Its role in the crew is… really nobody knows. Occasionally it’s called mascot. It’s just kinda there and whenever it’s kicked out it finds its way back. It’s very charming, and simply happy to be involved! last, and kinda least in the context of being a tma fan, is Tim Ledsam, who plays the exterminator Jordan Kennedy in tma and Gunpowder Tim, (he/him) master-at-arms, in the mechanisms. His mechanism is his eyes.

others, who I’m not going to go into detail about, are Nastya Rasputina (she/her) engineer, Ivy Alexandria (she/her, actor uses he/him) archivist, Drumbot Brian (he/him) pilot, Marius Von Raum (he/him, actor uses they/them) and Raphaella la cognizi (she/her)

two, the albums! This is gonna be pretty quick because it’s just an overview, but there are 4 main story albums that tell self contained stories, 2 that are a collection of songs that tell single stories, and 1 EP thing that tells its own little ballad. Then there’s a live recorded version of their final show ever, death to the mechanisms. They’re all very tragic, and *very* queer stories.

first, once upon a time (in space) a story based on fairy tales, tells the story of a war through the stars. second, Ulysses dies at dawn, a film noir style telling of a dystopian world based on Greek myths. third, high noon over Camelot, a cowboy western ballad about Arthurian legend on a space station. fourth, the bifrost incident, a rock ballad about Norse myth, lovecraft eldritch horror, and one person being really fucking horny for a train (Dw about it) the other albums are a mix of myth and story retellings (Frankenstein, the story of Prometheus, a rhythm based video game called crypt of the necrodancer) and character backstory songs for the Mechanisms.

random ass fun facts because I’m out of base info and I think the mechs is really funny for something supposed to be tragedy

-one of the crew, Nastya, is in a loving romantic and sexual relationship with the starship

-there are creatures called octokittens that are half octopus half kitten. I love them.

-Jonny is Texan. Yeah. (Well technically New Texan, because he was born on a planet called New Texas, but whatever)

-I’m not going into this because it’s more complex lore but the person who “created” most of the mechanisms was a vampire named Doctor Carmilla and was a (very disfunctuonal) mother figure to at least most of the crew. They kicked her out

-Doctor Baron Marius Von Raum, one of the other crewmates, is neither a doctor nor a baron. His real name is Byron. He psychoanalizes people for fun.

-they’re all horrible people, the Mechanisms. They kill and burn and destroy and manipulate unrepentantly and take pride in breaking every law they can find (though we have explicit canon confirmation that Jonny flat out refuses to commit any sexual crimes) It makes them fun, though

-there are *so* many photos of the bandmates in character and a good part of fandom activity is just passing around those photos within the fandom like they’re Pokémon cards

-last, and very much not least, it’s quite important to note that Jonny Sims didn’t “create” the mechanisms, not like he did tma. It’s a collaboration between a bunch of great storytellers and musicians that started out as a uni band

here is a photo of the mechanisms as a whole group, because why not

Anyway I’m going to see so many glaring issues with this as soon as I post it but I hope it makes at least some sense! Check out x-ca1iber’s post for it if something doesn’t make sense… yeah. That’s it.

#shi rambles #the mechs #the mechanisms #long post #oh god this is bad actually

15 notes · View notes

bugsinthebayou · 1 year

Note

okay how do i get into the mechs ... i would like to know about these robots now i think

GRINS. HI. HELLO.

The Mechanisms are a steampunk space pirate storytelling band!! they are compromised of 9 members (up until one of them left). they retell myths n legends in space, tragic, and queer

they have four main story albums, a single, and two extra albums for extra stories

for the four main albums, you have to listen to all the tracks in order so i recommend listening on youtube

Once Upon A Time (In Space) is their first album. its fairy tales retold as an intergalactic war

Ulysses Dies At Dawn is their second one. this one is greek mythology

High Noon Over Camelot. oh boy high noon over camelot. my favorite mechs album and my favorite album just in general. arthurian legend retold as a space western

The Bifrost Incident. norse myth but eldritch horror

their single is Frankenstein (frankenstein except the monster is an AI), and their other two albums are Tales To Be Told volumes I and II. theyre both collections of extra songs that either work as standalone stories or fit into the same setting as one of the main albums but doesnt follow along the main plotline

they also have Death to the Mechanisms, which was a performance of some of their songs live plus a song of the same name as the album that describes how they died a final time. this was because they split up. no more mechs music </3

out of all of them i recommend hnoc the most. cuz its my favorite <3

i apologize for not explaining the albums further, but you asked about the mechs themselves so im gonna put more focus into explaining those guys

the mechanisms themselves are 9 immortal space pirates. they are immortal due to their mechanisms, mechanical replacements of certain body parts. they travel the galaxy on the starship known as Aurora, who is infact sentient and also dating the ship's engineer. they like to "have fun, violence, adventure, violence. violence." according to jonny

Jonny d'Ville - he/him. he's claims he's the ships captain. hes the first mate. he is the narrator to all of the albums and plays a number of characters. King Cole (ouat(is)), Ulysses (udad), Lancelot (hnoc), Galahad (hnoc), and the void (tbi) are a few. there's more, but theyre more minor. hes pretty shooty and has canonically committed every crime (that existed on a planet) except the sexual ones. his mechanism is his heart!

Gunpowder Tim - he/him. master at arms! hes another one that sings often. he also plays the guitar. a few characters hes been are Oedipus (udad), Gawain (hnoc), and Loki (tbi). his mechanism is his eyes. hes also on the violent side. he blew up the moon, as detailed in the song Gunpowder Tim vs The Moon Kaiser from the ttbt vol 1

Ashes o'Reilly - they/them. quartermaster. they sing often and their voice is beautiful <3 they play bass aswell. some characters theyve played are Hades/themself (udad), Mordred (hnoc), and Sigyn (tbi). their mechanism is their lungs. theyre also a mob boss and arsonist and have been since they were 12 years old, described in their backstory song Lucky Sevens

Drumbot Brian - he/him. pilot. he doesnt sing as often but its great when he does! he plays a few different instruments. a couple of his characters are Merlin/himself (hnoc) and the robot spouse in Stranger (ttbt vol 2). everything except his heart is mechanical. he was thrown into space because he brought someone back to life

The Toy Soldier - it/its. its just there!! it sings often and plays the mandolin. some characters are Cinders (ouat(is)), Orpheus (udad), and Guinevere (hnoc). its a toy soldier. it was never human it just started walking one day

Raphaella la Cognizi - she/her. science officer. she is another singer!! and pianist!! her voice is heavenly tbh. notable roles are Ariadne (udad), Ygraine (hnoc (one song but it Slaps)), and Odin (tbi). her mechanism is a pair of wings!

Marius von Raum - he/him. doctor (not even a doctor). he sings and plays violin. and mandolin the wiki says. Heracles (udad), Arthur (hnoc), Thor (tbi). his mechanism is his right arm

Ivy Alexandria - she/her. archivist. she plays a few wind instruments, no singing. her mechanism is her brain

Nastya Rasputina - she/her. engineer. she is in gay love with the sentient starship <3. she plays violin, no singing. her mechanism is her blood, which is mercury. she decided to go Out (she believed that aurora was no longer the same starship she fell in love with because of all the repairs over the centuries theyve been alive, so she takes the final piece of the original aurora and exits out of the airlock, never to be seen again) sometime after hnoc

and there you are!! them!!

despite me giving some examples to who they play in the albums, thats not all the characters they play. theres also extra characters in narration i didnt mention (ivy and nastya both have been in narration tracks before) and theres also characters they play in the extra songs in the tales to be told volumes

i hope you end up liking them <333 heres a photo of them all together for u

[ID: A group shot of the Mechanisms. End ID]

#this was longer than expected sorry anon ahdjsnd #you activated the autism #answered #anon pog #id from princess-of-purple-prose

80 notes · View notes

in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 1 year

Text

[Starship Icarus] III

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Dino safaris and appliance shenanigans, Mills’ mental and emotional deterioration and eventual decision, i.e., it gets juicy

CW: lewd actions, hints of suicidal ideation, angst, dark humor

WC:~6.5k

Mills roved around the Icarus in search of more than just cracks and escape routes that time. He soon discovered a plethora of entertainment options available to the passengers and he sampled everything that seemed even remotely inviting. The charms of one-man basketball, one-man/one-holo dance offs, one-man dinosaur safaris. That one looked like fun.

As he stood decked out in his equipment, the simulation blinked to life. A primordial jungle sprawled out in front of him, lovely, dark and deep. It was full of rustlings, caws, murmurs, growls. Unfamiliar fauna and uncanny flora rose above and buzzed around him. As he explored, day turned into night and sunshine turned to pelting rain. Mills waded through the mud, growing more and more disappointed with the fact that the safari was really just a nature walk so far. Nothing very exciting seemed to be in the cards.

He stopped dead as his eyes landed on a large three-pronged imprint in the soupy mud. His blood warmed and he tracked similar prints deeper into the swallowing darkness. This went against all sage counsel, but what did he really have to lose? Suddenly, all the twitterings and fracas of the jungle went quiet. Out of the mist and rain, the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex strode out. Its powerful legs took great distances in single strides, its arms folded into an oily reptilian chest. Those delicate arms could pick a man up in its talons and examine him like a broken toy before snapping him to pieces. Mills could comfortably fit into that enormous head, now rising effortlessly towards the sky. That skull was probably roomier than his fucking bathroom, he thought, silently raising his laser rifle. The monstrous thing scented him, he realized, a split second before the snake neck snapped the head in his direction. In a bowel-loosening moment, the two apex predators locked eyes and Mills saw nothing in those evil beady marbles but hunger. With shocking speed, the creature ran at him, crushing bushes and smaller trees under untold tons of bone and muscle in its legs. Running on pure instinct, Mills took off.

Had he thought about anything, he wouldn’t have been able to dart away so quickly. His heart hammered wildly and the world blurred in the periphery as he flew away from danger. The strangest thing was, it felt so easy; like a dream. Mills ran so fast he didn’t feel the ground beneath his feet, so fast he felt the slap of air and slash of rain on his face. When the ground dropped out from under him and he fell inside a stony, jagged cave, he felt no pain.

Up on the surface, the commotion caught the attention of other reptilian hunters and he heard shrieks and thuds as the gathering throng salivated for him, frothing themselves into a frenzy. He wandered around the underground warrens, wondering if he was about to come face to face with some abominable ancient version of a mole, with chompers the size of elevator doors.

While he fumbled and waded in the unfamiliar terrain and near total darkness of the cave, clumsy and sinking under the weight of his equipment, he pondered how unfairly easy it all was for his hunters. He tripped over unknown, unforgiving terrain while his pursuers moved with a grace and dexterity that should not make sense for their gargantuan size. Mills felt one Velociraptor scrape and send vibrations around the cave as it pushed through a narrow slit in the rocks. He backed away, rifle trained in the direction he knew the monster would emerge. Unbeknownst to him, several dinosaurs surrounded him. One baited him with sound while the others crept silently towards the holes and fissures he used to crawl and move, cutting off escape routes. He loaded up several shots and the rifle emitted a tinny sound, rising in pitch as ammunition became available. The monster lunged towards the noise and Mills shot at it without hesitation. A craggy, leathery arm blew off its body and ruined flesh and bone sprayed over the rocky walls. The Velociraptor retreated, but from an unseen sideways crack behind him, another one stuck its hideous head inside, so huge it plugged the entire orifice, snapping its powerful jaw at him. Mills made for the only other available exit, but as he darted out, one piston-like leg struck him in the back, making the rifle fly out of his hands as he slipped off the path and slid into a ravine. As he grasped for anything to stop or at least slow his plunge, a crack of lightning illuminated the tableau before him. He was hurtling right towards snapping jaws and claws, clacking for him eagerly at the bottom. His hand reflexively closed around a sickly root sticking out of the terrain, soaked and slippery from the rain, but still brittle to the touch. With his other hand, he palpated almost blindly, looking for any concavity in the rock face to gain some purchase. The gnarled root crumbled away in his hand and he felt his heavy body drop a few inches. The ghastly sensation of weightlessness froze him and he began to mutter a thanks to whoever may be listening that it didn’t snap all the way. Before he could breathe with relief, claws dug into his ankles and he was yanked back, mind going blank with mortal panic. He shot up into a sitting position as the simulation abruptly cut out.

With his newfound breaking and entering skills - except to the places that would have been truly useful - Mills adopted the panem et circenses approach to pissing away his life. He broke his way into a gold-class suite and had his first non-hunched shower in approximately six months. When he grew tired of one, he helped himself to other fancy, gold-class suites, sampling the designs other people chose for themselves. He roomed in a minimalist cabin with Japanese cherry tree blossoms outside the artificial window for a while. Then a rustic cabin with rolling hills and verdant trees projected outside. He didn’t stay long in a red-light bathed, S&M dungeon with peepshow windows on the outside. The bed in that one was murder on his back.

Mills frequented Blade Runner-type restaurants, with Chinese dragons dancing as he supped, or a Mariachi band wishing him a happy birthday when he lied to the android waiter just to see what would happen. The 3D immersive porn selection was decent and he was generally growing so bored that he would actually pick the options with plot and not skip through anything, dick often untouched for the whole duration of the offering. That got him into a cinematic mood and he would while away his time at the ship’s cinema. Since he was obviously by himself, his booted feet rested on the seat in front of him and he could shamelessly pick out popcorn hulls out from between his teeth or toss candy and snacks on the floor for the little roomba robots to clean up during the boring scenes.

He knew that he had maxed out whatever mindless, numbing peace that drowning in pleasure can bring when he found himself settling in one cabin and abandoning the activities he had taken up. The dino safari was the last refuge he had as it could trick him into thinking he was genuinely about to die and the prospect was dangerously appealing. Besides, he wanted to complete a successful run and he had so far failed.

He had never imagined he would find himself pissing on the floor in outer space. But hey, when there are no consequences and he had already exhausted every idea he could think of how to amuse himself, that would have to do.

After the little buggers cleaned his shameful leavings, without protestation or embarrassment, Mills was the one to feel shamed. He then decided once was enough of this kind of preposterous behavior. It was a disturbing thought that had they beeped and blorped like some flustered R2D2, he most definitely would have done it again, just for the sadistic comfort of seeing another creature in the same distress as he was constantly in.

Those same robots would eventually have the last laugh anyway. One day, they will sweep away his rotting, stinking carcass when he dies like a dog. The other passengers won’t even notice at first that someone seems to be missing. When someone eventually does, they’ll huff and scratch their heads. What went wrong? Pondering his fate will instantly be cast aside in favor of examining the ship’s malfunction. Well, if he only knew to press the AZ-5 button or some simple shit like that, he could have gone gentle into that good night of his pod. Welp… no point in mulling over too much, time to start this adventure of a lifetime. And that will be that.

He cried into his pillow that night – whatever time of day meant anyway in this godforsaken stretch of eternity. When the first wave of crushing hopelessness ebbed, he cast a weary look over his shoulder, still paranoid that someone would see him and laugh at this display of weakness. Then he cried louder, inviting god if he was out there to send someone, to see him at his most piteous, and save him.

Mills awoke one day, many months into his purgatory, and felt no control of his body. He balled up a fist and felt how weak he’d grown. His body didn’t feel his own. The eerie dissociation made him break out in a cold sweat. He was sure this was what the beginnings of a dying mind felt like.

Mills avoided mirrors. His own solitary reflection staring back at him had become odious. Now he decided to face it again, half-fearing that he would find a stranger looking back. Though he didn’t feel prepared to, he stepped into the cramped shower of his original cabin again and looked.

After so much time wallowing and getting lost, his hair had grown long, spilling onto his chest and down between his shoulder blades. He ran his fingers down his sparse beard, now forming a goat-like point under his chin. Mills deemed he looked like some haunted Rasputin figure. It was fitting, somehow.

With at least some relief at having faced himself and recognized the man looking back as someone who wasn’t a stranger, he went out to play his improvised version of fetch, where he tossed whatever junk he could get his hands on in different directions and then watch the little roombas scramble to clean it up. Come to think of it, it was more akin to racing, seeing as they never brought anything back. He retrieved some gaudy glass unicorn from someone’s cabin and lobbed it into a room, trying to get it in before the door closed. It shattered and went flying in every direction, causing a satisfying commotion among the small floor crawlers. Some pieces seemed to be out of reach of their sensors and Mills lazily strode around, realizing the head piece had broken off and slid inside a pod room. He followed the shard and bent over to pick it up.

In his crouch, he came face to face with a female passenger and made the fatal mistake of looking.

She hung suspended in her serene slumber, blissfully unaware of this broken space-Rasputin feasting his greedy, starved eyes on her.

Mills was not sure how long he stayed there. He knelt and brought his nose close to the glass separating them, gazing at the woman like a kid pressing their nose to a window display of mouth-watering confections. What brought him out of his reverie was the feeling of his hands touching glass. They were trying to somehow reach inside, of their own accord. Mills jerked back, as if burnt, and shot upright, knees creaking from the sudden change of position they held so long on the floor next to her. He hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t meant to do any of it; not look, not yearn, and certainly not reach out. Somewhere, behind that delicious spot deep in his gut that warmed up and melted when he was aroused, he felt a phantom tug. In a deep place, further inside him than he’d felt before, he felt a pull to come closer again. Worse than that, it was another awareness inside his body, informing him it would not stop until it had her.

Open it, it demanded. It was soft, but a demand nonetheless. You can’t lie to me. You’ll open it, like Snow White’s glass coffin, and pull her into your arms. You’ll kiss her. You’ll do a lot more.

He was losing feeling in his body again. The control over his faculties slipped away as easily as exhaled breath.

Before he did something he knew was not right, he backed away and ran out of the room. He kept running, until he put as much distance as he could between himself and this new temptation.

All his good intentions and best laid plans notwithstanding, Mills found himself in one of the offices, watching her interviews and tests. He tossed and turned, like he was a fakir in training, trying to sleep on a bed of nails. With stinging eyes and a heart that beat as fast as a hummingbird’s for hours, Mills finally relented. It was either go look her up or suffer cardiac arrest.

Her image, animate and dazzling, blinked to life in front of him. He felt like a criminal, as though someone would read the secret yearnings inside him and come toss him in some ghastly medieval cell. She spoke then and the sound of her voice made his chest squeeze painfully.

“I am part of the overseeing body, sent to make sure Homestead and this mission are compliant with all the protocols laid out by the governing bodies who authorized the voyage.”

A defiant gleam sparked in her eyes. She was challenging the interviewer to prod for more. She would tell it all. Mills couldn’t look away.

“The agency is an independent body, not beholden to interests of billionaires, lobbyists or conglomerates. At the same time, the Agency is not against exploration, colonization or any other alternative to life on Earth. However, even in the brief amount of time that’s elapsed since the inception of programs like Homestead, there have been flagrant abuses of power, funds, and rampant misinformation. Allegedly,” she remembered to add and smirked. He smirked back.

“In the case of this exploratory mission to Homestead II, doubts have been raised as to its viability. The trip is long, the conditions on the planet are speculative, and the duration of stay is subject to change. I don’t believe I need to explain how ripe these conditions are for all sorts of nefarious activities. Homestead has been accused of fraud in the past, presenting a more favorable and, at times, egregiously false view of how colonization of Homestead was going. The matter is still being litigated as of the time of this recording, so I cannot comment on it further. However, for the safety and feasibility of all future missions, it is the Agency’s view that the inclusion of independent overseeing bodies is of paramount importance. Homestead currently, for all intents and purposes, has a monopoly on space travel for the purposes of colonization and exploration of habitable planets. Historically, monopolies have proven to be…” she cocked her head shrewdly and exposed her teeth in a restrained, but condescending smile, “problematic. To everyone but the direct beneficiaries, that is.”

The first three times he rewound the video and watched it from the start, he wasn’t even breathing. Around the fifth time, he felt his body become blissfully relaxed and his heart rate settle. It kicked up again when she smiled to herself and looked down to hide it. He watched for the smiles greedily, melting when they appeared.

“Yer quiet tonight,” Clyde noted after Mills sat in his stool for a long time, gazing into the middle distance. His head was too full to speak. Had his heart been less full, he could have talked about it more.

He wondered if he should say anything. “You’ll think I’m crazy,” he started, with every intention to spill his guts. But he faltered, tongue tying into knot after knot as her face entered into his head.

“I’m not programmed t’judge,” Clyde reminded softly and went right on buffing that damn glass he always had in his hand.

“I’ve been, uh…making appointments. Of a sort,” Mills felt his heart drum in his head. His face suddenly grew so hot he was seeing red. “With…this girl,” he finished and thought he would slump from exhaustion to admitting to his dirty, filthy secret.

“Girl?” Clyde frowned, as though the concept were foreign to him.

Mills understood and kept on confessing. “A sleeping girl.”

Clyde buffed his glass in silence for a few torturous moments, processing. “Another passenger,” he nodded to himself when he figured out Mills’ euphemism.

Mills watched his face, awaiting some judgment.

“How did this come about?” Clyde prompted, unfazed by the discovery.

Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. Mills told him about how he found her and how he almost lost his mind from it. About the videos of her he’d been watching incessantly. How similar they were. And, in low, confidential tones, about how much he liked her. It was a ludicrous way to feel, and the most embarrassing thing he’d ever admitted to. She was sharp. Wickedly funny. Had a good head on her shoulders. Mills took a long pause. Worse than the humiliation of his obsessive infatuation with a woman he hadn’t ever actually met was how he felt about the prospect of never knowing her.

“And I’ll never get to meet her,” he gave Clyde a heavy, forlorn smile, leaving his last drink untouched.

Weeks went on and Mills seemed to take pacing a groove in front of the pod room as a personal challenge set to him. He didn’t trust himself to re-enter the room and see her again. But he couldn’t pull himself away from her videos. He reasoned he was allowed this small mercy and a salve for his wounds.

Clyde talked him out of it. Mills expressly asked to be told, in the most direct and unkind terms, what a monstrous, unconscionable thought it was that the other presence in him brought up day and night. The bitter, solemn words served to keep him away for the night.

For something to do, he opted to get drunk. Shitfaced, to be more precise. After all, in beer there is freedom, in wine there is health, in cognac there is power, and in water there is bacteria.

In his abominable state, he wandered around, tripping over his feet and bumping into walls that rudely bent towards him and kept pushing to walk past him. Without intending to, he staggered into the space walk prep room. The walk was a pleasure he had decided to stave off until some very special time. Now that his mind and moral compass had started to noticeably disintegrate, he figured he might as well give it a whirl while he still had a faculty or two remaining.

“These spacesuits are designed to withstand the harsh environments of space. The carbon fiber and polyamide construction means your suit is more flexible and durable.”

Mills wasn’t listening. Being an engineer, he knew damn well what the fucking suits were made out of. He was more mesmerized by the approximation of the human form, albeit decapitated, that stood before him. He lifted the arm of the suit and examined the large gloves. They bent at the wrist and ended in five thick digits. He rested a hand on the chest, where the heart would be. What he would not have given for a conversation, a real one, with a real person.

“Remember, your spacesuit is your lifeline,” the voice told him as the suit gradually revolved and shuddered to life.

“Slide the handle on the right to release the air pressure,” the voice prompted. He had donned the suit and, thankfully, it did most of the work of setting up and securing itself on its own. His drunken hands were fat and clumsy and he never would have gotten anywhere with it.

He slid the handle and the ground yanked him down. “Your magnetic boots are now engaged.” For a moment, the magnets gave him the false sense of steady feet. When he moved to walk, he felt like a whole house was resting on top of him and he struggled to take even the smallest step. “They can be deactivated using the control panel on your arm.” Mills considered it, but his machismo had always run on alcohol. Now, it was fed to great heights and it refused to let him be reasonable. “Press the red button to open the airlock door.”

A mist-like current rushed around him as the endless outside sucked itself into the tunnel. It caused an uncanny feeling his body was unsuited to. He could not readily describe it, but it was there. “Have a wonderful time,” the voice said, soothing and encouraging.

Right at the end of the tunnel, as Mills teetered on the lips of its mouth, a tether attached itself to the back of his suit.

He walked out on steady boots and wobbly feet, narrowing his eyes as if in challenge to the cosmos to go ahead and strike him with awe. His vision was blurred with drink, and every sensation was processed with a delay. His ears felt full of cotton, rustling a perpetual hum. Blackness gaped ahead, behind, around, inside. It yawned with unrestrained avarice and consumed more than Mills could hope to behold.

The sight should have been beautiful. Taken his breath away. That’s what Homestead expected. All it did was make him think of the great nothingness. Not only the great nothingness that sprawled before him, but the other kind, the one that tempted him. Walked in his tracks, one step behind, hiding in his shadow. Calling out to him to end it while it was still on his terms. Whispered how easy it would be. Caressed his hands into doing it.

Remember, your spacesuit is your lifeline, the ghostly voice of the holo repeated in his head. Then his hands were on his helmet. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as his fingers crawled like hideous millipedes along the seam that shut the vacuum of space out. They were trying to unscrew his helmet, now listening to the other voice, the one behind. It had stepped out from the shadows into his body and there was no room for Mills to command anything. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he heard a hiss in his ear and some distressing sounds and warnings, as the suit worked to override the commands the hands were giving. He had thought he was only beginning to unravel. Now he knew he was almost done.

The icy feeling of dread sobered him for long enough to wrest control from that other presence and assert his will. His body turned around and sprang back towards the ship. It was like swimming in pudding. His progress was agonizingly slow and panic only made it creep by slower. Mills kept his hands busy by reeling himself back in. He tugged on the tether as hard as he could and received only the miniscule movements of a dull space ballet in return.

When he finally reached the door and hurled himself inside, he ran like the devil was snapping at his heels.

“We hope you decide to join us again for another thrilling experience,” the voice invited as he ran off, leaving discarded pieces of his suit in his wake.

Strength finally abandoned him. Mills collapsed in a corner. His body shook like an unstable compound, liable to burst and disintegrate into barely more than smoke any moment now. He shut his eyes against the crushing feeling of helplessness. This was not him and he did not know how to deal with this new self. He really would either crumble to pieces, or lose focus just long enough to do away with himself, whether he wanted to or not.

Gradually, the fog cleared and he opened his eyes. He was snatching for glimmers of clarity like trying to pluck soap bubbles out of the air. He tested his legs and found that he could stand up. His feet took him back to the office space.

Mills watched her some more, seeking comfort in that face and voice, both of which had become so familiar to him over time. Right now, she felt like a truer part of him than his own volatile, uncooperative consciousness. To his surprise, he unearthed a whole cache of other videos he hadn’t seen previously. With naked eagerness, he played them and sat on the edge of the seat, face just inches from the holo screen where his sleeping girl spoke.

These interviews were more intimate. She was no longer in what looked to be Homestead’s offices. He was immensely grateful she had opted to do her diaries, goodbyes, profiles and all the rest in video form. She was in her home, legs tucked beside her on the couch and a cushion hugging her along her side. It revealed more of her figure in a highly pleasing way and he felt his mouth salivate at the sight. Here, she was kinder. The professional mask that at times bordered on delightfully insolent had fallen away. She was more vulnerable and talked about some of the things he too had touched upon in the letters he left behind.

“I initially wanted to be a writer,” she said, averting her eyes. It looked like the admission embarrassed her somewhat. “Nothing prevented me from it, really. Except for the fact that it’s difficult, I suppose. When it came right down to it, I simply didn’t have anything to say that I intrinsically felt passionate enough about,” her eyes unfocused and her face took an ethereal beauty that sometimes comes with this sort of display of sheer vulnerability and pain. “Others had already expressed any thought that I began to have much better. Often hundreds of years before me,” she smiled crookedly and pushed away the specter of her abandoned dreams. “You know what they say – if you want to make god laugh, tell him about your plans. I can’t complain either. In my attempts, I found it was second nature to me to make other people’s stories compelling. I could always easily empathize with others and I hate injustice, so that coalesced into protecting the interests of the proverbial little guy. Eventually, I started working for the Agency and I…” she couldn’t quite say she was happy about it. Few people ever had the luxury of being happy about where they worked. “It’s a good fit. It makes sense. And it led to this opportunity,” she gave a smile that bled into sadness at the edges. It was only second best to her, Mills read between the lines. Like it was to him.

Mills had wanted to be part of a crew back on the Homestead I project. He was much younger then. Idealistic, naïve, people said. Dumb, is what they should have said. After a reshuffling of management came an offer of a merger with Homestead. That was declined and not long after, the company where he trained and worked his whole career was out of the space race in favor of Homestead. Changes to the crew roster saw him get the short end of the stick. It was a hard blow, but he set his sights on the future. He still had time to retrain before any other major mission was launched. If he wasn’t eligible to be part of the crew again, then he could try to get on with the other passengers. Tickets were, of course, absurdly and extortionately expensive. The kind of expensive that you could not pay for even if you spent the 250 years it took to get to and fro in indentured servitude. And he did not have 250 years to raise funds. But then came what he decided to consider a stroke of luck. People in useful professions, like chemists, engineers, builders, farmers, etc., could earn themselves a pod aboard the Icarus by proffering their services to the mission. Mills’ skills as an engineer were not the best, but the rest of his portfolio and the variety in his background – all useful and impressive skills – helped secure him a spot. It seemed like his sleeping girl had made a similar arrangement.

“I am really going along with the rest of the useful people,” she said the euphemism with her usual bite. He shared her distaste for bullshit and smiled, “to render an exact, impartial detailing of how exploration is going and how successful any future colonization might be. Essentially, I exchanged my life, and all the people in it that I’ve known and loved, who will all be long gone before I’m back with my little report in my hands. Of course, if you look at the contract, it will say I was given my ticket in exchange for my time commitment and services rendered. I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” she sighed, but her countenance was still brave. Mentioning the great cost she was paying to participate in the mission did not deter her or make her maudlin.

“Why?” she echoed part of the question asked of her. She shrugged and puffed out some air, re-arranging her hair as she did. Mills watched the motion breathlessly, feeling the phantom strands of her hair slip past his fingers. The act made a bowtie knot itself in his throat. “Why not?” she offered in return. “It’s something that’s never been done before. We all have dreams. You know that a majority of Christians believe Christ will return in their lifetime? Studies show that everyone is convinced they are the individual in an ocean of sheeple, with an emotional and intellectual life that far outstrips their peers, who just don’t feel as profoundly or think as good as them,” she emphasized her grammatical mistake and gave a tiny eye roll. “Everyone thinks they’re special and destined for something amazingly out of the ordinary. I can’t claim that, deep down, I’m any different. So…I’m here. I already know Earth, I already know about as much as I’m ever going to learn about it and life on it. I am trying to embrace something different and disruptive. See the dawn break over a new world.”

Mills finally decided to go back in to see her. Not because he had managed to pull from some heretofore untapped wellspring of strength. He was seeking her out again because he had exhausted what reserves he had and needed a new source to draw from.

She was as immaculate as she was in his memory. This time, though, he could see how the lines of her face would move. How her neck angled elegantly when she swept her hair aside, how the apples of her cheeks rounded with a smile, how her clever eyes rolled and took his heart with them.

“I need to talk to you,” he croaked, voice strained with emotion. “I need you to wake up,” he pleaded, as if she could decide to open her eyes and live for him. “Please, wake up.”

With Clyde, he simply could not stop talking about her. Luckily for him, they did not outfit androids with the ability to get bored and frustrated from hearing the same stories and infatuated proclamations over and over again. He was the perfect audience for Mills.

From watching her videos obsessively and analyzing them like the Zapruder film, Julian knew everything there was to glean about her.

Best of all, he felt his sanity returning. For weeks, he had not suffered the uncanny out-of-body experiences, or the ominous crumble of a mind deteriorating. He was establishing healthier routines and patterns of behavior. When he decided he would be taking his meals with her, watching her talk on a smaller, portable holo pad, he also decided it was unseemly to look like some unwashed miscreant. He cut his own hair and beard in the bathroom sink and rummaged through his closet for his uniform. The ladies always like a man in uniform, he told his reflection as he assessed himself. That was more like it.

He provided running commentary on her videos – some that he had seen in the hundreds of times, others he had only recently uncovered. He gave feedback when she asked rhetorical questions. Told her she was funny when she quipped or scrunched her nose at her own inside jokes. Videos were filmed at various points, so in some she had more, or less, makeup, and in others her hair was longer, or shorter. He decided his favorite was the long hair, no makeup combo. Then he would shake his head at himself and apologize. She was beautiful either way and every way, the fuck was he talking about. He jerked up and a hand flew to clap over his mouth. He muttered an apology, as if he would be upbraided for his language. He had grown too free and careless with Clyde. To him, he could say anything, ask for anything, amble on up wrapped in a blanket - undergarments optional - and, on his worst days, start drinking as soon as his first cigarette of the day was smoked. His gaze fell on the pod and tears welled up, hot and quivering on the precipice of his eyes, when the sleeping girl just went on floating in her mechanical cocoon, serene and unknowing. Mills may as well have been a million light years away. Though her shell was resting right next to him, she was more than 88 years away from him. She would never know a man lived and died by her pod, loving her with the desperation and sincerity of the truly hopeless.

“Clyde, you need to stop me,” Mills marched into the bar and gripped the bartop like a drowning rat in a wreckage. His tone did not make Clyde snap up and give him a concerned look as it should have, but he went on anyway. “Punch me, drug me, anything you can. If you got a shotgun behind that bar, I got a kneecap right here for you.”

Clyde still looked on uncomprehendingly.

“Otherwise I’ll go and open her pod right now,” Mills choked out and his gut twisted, half-disgust, half-excitement.

“M’not allowed t’do that, Mills. Androids ain’t violent.”

“I am hanging by a fucking thread here!”

Clyde thought, sifting through options available to the both of them. “I can getcha drunk, if ya’d like.”

“Tell me not to do it. I need to hear a voice outside my head say it. Tell me it’s immoral, it’s evil.”

“S’immoral, Mills. S’evil t’do that to yer sleepin’ gal.”

For days, Mills did what he could to exhaust himself. A steady schedule of passing out drunk, then boxing or running until he couldn’t move anymore, alternating endlessly.

“Don’t do it, Julian, you dumb prick. She’ll never forgive you. You’ll never forgive you. Just die like a man,” he would tell the Mills in the mirror. That one was faltering; a weak man, needy man that could barely meet his gaze.

“I came in here a man,” he paced in endless circles around the winding corridors of the ship.

“Give me the strength to walk out of here a man,” he jumped rope, sweat wicking off of him, feet thudding a steady, fast rhythm into the soft floor of the gym, forever and then some more.

‘”We’re not talking about the sleepin’ gal anymore,” Mills announced defensively, having adopted Clyde’s moniker for the girl who would, from here on out, not be mentioned again.

“If I bring her up, toss a drink in my face,” he commanded.

Clyde pouted, pondering.

“You can do that, right?”

“I think I can.”

“Good then, it’s settled.”

But it never lasted long.

Mills took a drink to the face three or four times before he discontinued the rule.

“I’m dreaming about her now,” Mills sighed one night after a long silence. A maudlin ballad was playing on the jukebox and it only made him think of his dreams more.

“What do ya dream?”

“That she wakes up. Stretches like a cat after a long sleep and walks out of her glass coffin, happy to be alive. We just do mundane things. Sit around the table. Laugh. She comes to my room…” he trailed off, a bead of titillated sweat licking down the long groove in the middle of his muscled back.

Clyde waited for the end of the sentence. His android brain was not able to connect the dots as to what might occur next.

Mills missed the confidences he could share with other men back on Earth. He would not need to explain any of this to them. Conversely, their conversation lacked some of the depth Clyde’s had. Had he mentioned this to them, he might get a knowing wink, a wiggle of the eyebrows, or a lewd gesture, but he would hardly go on talking and moping.

“Do you know what humans do in bed?” he asked out of curiosity, relieved not to be thinking of her for at least a moment or two.

“I know they sleep,” Clyde offered with the hopefulness of a kid in grade school, spelling cat with a k.

“Right,” Mills smiled crookedly. He had no wish to discuss sex or nocturnal emissions with an android, but his naiveté was just too amusing.

“I know they have intercourse too, if that’s what yer aimin’ for.”

“Bullseye.”

“Good,” Clyde was satisfied to be on the right track and able to provide germane responses. “Ya probably miss it. The average adult male has sexual relations on average once’r twice a week. And it’s been about…”

“I’d rather not have an update on that, Clyde,” Mills interrupted, jaw pulsating tightly. “Suffice it to say you’re right, I’m fucking missing it.”

“Good.”

Mills shot Clyde a dirty look.

“’Bout the dream, I mean,” Clyde expounded, “those are s’posed to help.”

Mills rolled his eyes.

“And I like bein’ able t’follow the conversation.”

The halls carried murmured whispers, the shuffling of Mills’ boots, the occasional groans and the fleshy thuds of his forehead against walls.

“…came in here a man…”

“…walk out of here a man…”

“…don’t do it...”

“…someone fucking stop me before I do it…”

@safarigirlsp @queeniebee @vedavan @heartlight-starlight @house-of-cadwyn @lumberjack00fantasies

#commander mills x reader #commander mills x you #65 movie

88 notes · View notes

frasier-crane-style · 8 months

Text

I'm not sure Ahsoka is even a story

People have been comparing the writing to an AI and... they've got a point there. I mean, stuff happens... barely... but it's like there's no attempt to dramatize or sex things up or impart any excitement or conflict or nuance into the story. Dave Filoni has one move and it's spamming lightsaber fights and starship dogfights constantly.

(Speaking of which, remember in the movies when lightsaber fights would end with SOMEONE dying or at least being maimed? People get IMPALED in Ahsoka and they're there in the next scene like "get some sleep, you need it." Like being impaled by a lightsaber is a cold. Not even a bad cold. They might as well put the lightsabers away and settle things by arm-wrestling, it resolves as much!)

(I'm convinced that Marrok was a studio note added at the last minute because someone realized they had made a show with eight hours of people trying to kill each other with laser swords and no one actually dying.)

I actually read a quote by Timothy Zahn where his idea was that, in their decade-long exile together, Thrawn and Ezra had been forced into an uneasy alliance against an even greater threat. Like, yeah! That's dramatic! That's Something and not Nothing.

When you watch the show, though, it's more like they've just gone off to summer camp. Ezra sees Sabine again and he's just like "hi, how are you?" He's older and he hasn't changed at all. Neither has Thrawn. He's painted his Star Destroyer a bit and he calls his Stormtroopers Nighttroopers now (surely not to sell new merchandise instead of the same old action figures)... other than that, no change in his character whatsoever. Same guy.

Oh, he's teamed up with the Nightsisters, but that just amounts to him getting the obligatory Imperial superweapon. Does anyone really think this isn't going to turn into another plot coupon quest to stop him from using his new toy to destroy the New Republic before it gets destroyed anyway?

I mean, how can you not brainstorm SOMETHING interesting happening with this setup? It's impressive! A kind of anticreativity.

What if Sabine was in love with Ezra, then gets there and finds out he's gotten hitched to a cute Rodian or something. Or maybe he's gone kind of mad with isolation and is using the Dark Side, but doesn't know better in his crazed state?

Or Thrawn could be this Colonel Kurtz figure who's gone around the bend and his Stormtroopers all worship him like a cult leader. Like, right now, what does he even have against the New Republic? Why does he like the Empire so much? What is he trying to achieve? What benefit does he get from challenging the NR over simply suing for peace? It's insane--this one specific character is meant to be a galaxy-killing threat based solely on him as a person, but we know nothing about him as a person. (And he squeaks out a victory over three people, BARELY, and we're supposed to buy that the universe should be quaking in its boots.)

Filoni actually even stumbles upon a good vein of drama. Sabine betrays the galaxy to save her platonic friend. No one cares. Ezra doesn't care, Ahsoka doesn't care--why should the audience care?

Ahsoka trains Sabine to be a Jedi (that's its own rant, by the way), but stops because she worries Sabine will go the same way as Anakin. Jedi are all about nonattachment and Mandalorians are all about clans and lineage. Then, at the worst possible moment, Sabine proves her right, makes the exact same choice that Anakin did to go with saving a loved one over the fate of the galaxy... and Ahsoka just shrugs and goes "eh, no big!"

And I get it. I'm a comic book fan. I don't want to see noble, experienced characters flying off the handle at the drop of a hat and attacking their loved ones because it's their turn to hold the conflict ball. But these characters have no emotions at all! I don't care how good a person you are, if your bestie sells a nuke to Neo-Nazis to get you out of debt, you should probably raise your voice a little.

Also, is the last episode the first time they actually set up that Ahsoka and Sabine's conflict is over this "I'm afraid of her turning out like Anakin" thing? Well after it's resolved? Why? You have eight hours of TV show, you can set this up early on and then pay it off later (not next season, but later).

'Ahsoka has an astral-plane pow-wow with Anakin and gets over her issues' is a decent plot, but you have to actually depict her issues ahead of time, you have to dramatize them in a certain way so we know what the heck you're talking about!

Imagine if in Back To The Future, the first time we saw George McFly was when he punched out Biff and saved Lorraine. You wouldn't care at all, right? It's just a guy punching another guy. We have to know that George is a pussy and that Biff is his tormentor and that he's in love with Lorraine from afar--once we know all that context, THEN it's a triumph for him to punch Biff.

Your show can't just be people punching each other out! It also has to be reasons to give a shit about the punching!

You don't have to spell everything out, but you can't just show Rosario Dawson crossing her arms and expect us to know "oh, she's traumatized from Anakin becoming Darth Vader, she never got over that." You have to put that into words and imagery! Show us her ACTING! Let us RELATE to her! Introduce these people to us and let us get to know them! You can't coast on everyone already liking them because they look like old cartoon characters.

#star wars #ahsoka #dave filoni

25 notes · View notes

theresattrpgforthat · 1 year

Note

Hi! Sorry if someone's already asked something similar, but I'd love some recommendations for space fantasy games!

THEME: Space Fantasy

Hello friend! You're the first request for this but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't already cultivating this very list!

Solar Blades & Cosmic Spells, by Diogo Nogueria.

The universe is in collapse, as planets and systems struggle for freedom under the rule of sinister despots. Against the malevolent sorcery of the Overlords stand the few remaining bearers of the legendary Solar Blades.

What will you do when the forces of the Void close in?

Solar Blades & Cosmic Spells is a rules light, Star & Sorcery Role Playing Game with an Old School spirit. This is a complete Role Playing Game, inspired by the Old School Renaissance, the Pulp Literature and the many Science Fantasy stories brought to us by movies, comics and games. Based on the Sharp Swords & Sinister Spells RPG, this game system provides players and Overlords (that's how we call the GM in this game) a set of flexible and streamlined rules, as well as an array of tools to make gameplay fast and fun, allowing them to have exciting adventures with solar blades and cosmic spells!

This game borrows a number of concepts from other game styles including rolling for attributes (a la OSR games), an overarching concept (similar to FATE games), and a character archetype (similar to a character class or a playbook). The system uses only d6s and d20s for dice rolls, and outlines rules for combat, although not as much for Social challenge. This reflects the traditional OSR ethos: if the characters are using creativity to solve a problem, reward it, rather than making them roll for it. There’s also a ton of advice on using sorcery, piloting starships, and encounters with other creatures, hostile and not. If you like having lots of toys to play with, as well as wealth of advice for the GM, you might want to check out this game!

GSXX: Generation Ship, by Harper Jay.

Hundreds of years ago, humanity left the Old World behind in massive generation ships. Dozens of these ships set off into space, seeking new homes. Much of the interior of these ships was set up for farming, and humans took many plants and animals into the stars with them.

The spirits of the Old World came with them. Cut off from the Earth Mother, they changed and evolved. Most found peaceful and content lives, but some lost themselves while out in the Void, becoming wayward and chaotic.

You play as a group of individuals living on one of these ships. While violence and strife are not unheard of, there is enough to contend with when drifting through space without fighting your fellow travellers.If you like quick, light, character creation and the story of a community that must work together in order to survive, Generation Ship might be for you.

Brigand Galaxy, by Hella Broke Studio.

Brigand Galaxy is a game heavily inspired by 90's sci-fi anime in tone and aesthetics. With a focus on the crew as family, and the inevitable confrontation of hidden pasts and troubles coming into conflict with your present selves. It's about cool narrative fights, both outside and inside space ships. It's about running from your past as every good Anime protag does and about bonding with your fellow crew as you scrape a living out of odd jobs and trying to find that one big score.

Welcome to a world of magic and science alike. Where the mystical leylines work as interstellar highways between systems, and where blaster pistols mix with magical spells and mysterious powers.

Brigand Galaxy is a PbtA-style game that aims for dramatic stories that tie the players together. This game is still in production, so the Bare Bones edition has the rules, equipment, and playbooks, but not much in the way of lore or setting. However, if you get the Bare Bones version, you’ll have automatic access to the final version down the road!

Light, Beacon Edition, by Gila RPGs.

You are a Beacon, an immortal guardian of humanity. Light courses through you, granting you incredible power, and the ability to fight back the darkness that besets humanity from all sides.

Strike out on missions across the Sol system. Wield powerful weapons, unleash devastating powers, get all the loot.

LIGHT Beacon Edition is the definitive version of the LIGHT TTRPG. First released in 2020 as a one page homage to the video game Destiny, LIGHT has expanded over the years with tons of new content. That has all been bundled together into a single book, with new layout and art to bring you the very best of LIGHT.

As a Beacon, you were granted near immortality and incredible power due to a solar event. Humanity has spread itself across the Sol system in a new golden age, and you are its greatest protectors. Strike out on missions across the system as it is beset from all sides by alien threats that would see our Light destroyed.

If you like modular character builds that can be continuously adjusted to suit upcoming challenges, and if you like high stakes in which humanity’s golden age hangs in the balance, you might want to check out LIGHT.

Scum and Villainy, by Off Guard Games.

Unwise deals. Blaster fights. High adventure among the stars. Welcome to the world of Scum and Villainy.

Scum and Villainy is a Forged in the Dark game about a spaceship crew trying to make ends meet under the iron-fisted rule of the Galactic Hegemony.

Work with the members of your crew to thrive despite powerful criminal syndicates, warring noble families, dangerous aliens, and strange mystics. Explore the ruins of lost civilizations for fun and profit. Can your motley crew hold it together long enough to strike it big and insure your fame across the sector?

Do you want to explore the galaxy? Make some credits on the side? Maybe strike out against a galactic empire? Scum and Villainy can do all of these things, and more. With an original universe with sliding scales on artificial intelligence, mystical powers, and galactic hegemonies, this game allows you to draw on themes from your favourite space-themed media while still putting forth a unique twist. Using the Forged in the Dark system, this game depends on a quick-to-grasp graded success system, with tools that reward you for pushing yourself closer and closer to the brink in exchange for pulling off some daring heists.

HighWinds, by Karrius.

Highwinds is a sci-fi fantasy space opera RPG, focusing on wild, action movie style fights. Take the role of resourceful heroes on the edge of space and fight pirates, save people from killer robots, and explore ancient vaults locked in astral space.

Highwinds contains all you need to play, and is designed for 1-6 players and one game master. For playing in person, three six-sided dice are recommended for each player. 15 sample characters are included, ready to play as both PCs or antagonists.

If you want to blend elements from a number of different space genres, or if you want lore that has some of its own unique elements, Highwinds is one to check out. Your characters have the opportunity to dip into martial, magic, and psionic talents, and contains unique species, bringing the fantasy to space-fantasy. The game uses d6s for Task Resolution rolls, and at character creation you take Skill Bonuses to reflect your character’s aptitude and training. There’s detailed rules for combat, vehicle management, and taking care of your home base - so if you like getting into the bits and pieces that build a more versatile campaign, Highwinds is a game worth checking out.

Galactic 2e, by Riley Rethal.

GALACTIC is a belonging outside belonging game, inspired by star wars.

tell the character-driven, relationship-focused space opera stories you want to see in the world, using playbook archetypes like THE ACE, THE DEFECTOR, and THE DIPLOMAT, and create a unique and colorful world with pillars, places, and traits that flesh out different factions, forces, and characters in your story.

If you want to tell a Star Wars story and you don’t have a GM (or someone who wants plot out a heavily detailed campaign), or if you want to play now, rather than set up a 2 hour character creation session, Galactic 2e is the game for you. Tell rich, emotionally satisfying stories using a system that doesn’t even require dice. (Also - have you ever wanted to play out your Star Wars ships? You can totally do that in this game.)

Galactic 2E has an abundance of supplements thanks to a game jam that ran back in 2021, so take a look at what you’re interested and pick out whatever makes the perfect Star Wars game for you!

#space #fantasy #dnd #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #gosh I love star wars #don't worry #not everything in this list is star wars with the serial numbers filed off #asks

80 notes · View notes