ROLEPLAYING - Introduce your Commander

CMNDR Ren of Reddoc holding

started his piloting career the easy way making cash quick riding off the back of an industrial and Agricultural boom in the Eravate system. Eager to see the Galaxy Ren spent all of his savings on a new ship and a cargo hold full of tea before flying straight through the centre of federation space to find the finest company and highest powers to pledge allegiance too. During a routine refuel stop at a Neff Dock the commander came across a freshly dressed, sweet talking trader peddling Galactic Maps, selling them for chump change at 8,80ish cr a pop, he bought 10 thinking a small profit would be made and left the station. Before long curiosity won and upon viewing the maps Ren realised a hefty sum could be madre of these in the furthest reaches of the galactic plane, he instantly powered up the engines and took off jumping from star to star, refuelling and jumping and from star to star and repeating. So many jumps later and the stations begun appearing foreign, the people spoke with strange accents and intonations. available cargo was becoming more and more alien, other ships and their captains too seemed to be so different it was almost frightening. time to offload and go home. making a quick sale, no research needed the galactic maps from Neff Dock had racked up a profit of 16,000 cr each.

Almost a decade later and a almost 2 million cr worth of hard work and the Red Doctor Renfield, Captain and Pilot of the REDDOC trader vessel known to all for and against the School of Commerce had gotten pretty cocky, so when a sleep pilot caused a soft bump in a space hub hangar he took it too hard. He powered up and hit the thrusters trying to phyce out the lazy pilot but clipped his ship mid boost and exploded throught the hangar bay doors.


Awake now in Mercy's Hammer Prison, Ren is released a free man buys back his ship and goes on his way.
 
New Beginnings Grow Old

“Twenty-eight years! Well I got the new life I wished for when I climbed into that progenitor cell. Just not the life I wanted.” Stacey Ubo thought to herself laying in bed at the behest of the Federation physician.

Looking back on her life she saw the familiar pattern, with great success came the threat of a great fall. From the destined Face of Valdere to an outcast branded by her kin. From the last step to Raxxla itself to just another ham-fisted flyer. From the renowned pacifist commander of the three fleets to the hopes of a cheap loaner.

And the last couple of days trawling through Galnet revealed none of her former squad. Sure, some of those at the top were the same as three decades ago, but nothing of her old flying buddies. She was starting to wonder if looking at Galnet here had been a good idea. It had raised so many questions no one here at the hospital could (or would) answer.

Where had all the old pilots gone? They couldn’t all be dead or lost.

Why had the old ways been forgotten? The “secret” of Raxxla hadn’t seemed hidden at all to her or her piloting peers.

How had humanity lost so much knowledge? All of humanity had seemed to understand what the Thargoids were, why they attacked and what was behind them. And with that understanding it was obvious why they’re attacking now. She couldn’t believe that the events of those times had slipped the minds of the very people who’d been at the centre of it all.

And where was her eye? She hoped to the heavens the cybernetics surgeon hadn’t suspected her old eye of having an embedded AI. Dubster was the only one she could truly trust and she felt hopeless without him. This new eye sucked. No access to Galnet’s back channels, no remote hacks, no answers to her questions and definitely no hope of sagely advice.

She decided the first thing she had to do was get her eye back. From there it looked like heading back out black side for home and destiny would be a cinch.
 
CMDR Felix de Cestria.
Formerly a trainee corporate intel operator for a multi-system company towards the edge of the Bubble. Until the hostile takeover that was.
An obviously well executed collapse in the corporate finances resulted in blood on the carpet as executives ended it all in various ways, decided to end their line mangers or simply took off with whatever they thought they could leave the office with.
Felix was one of the latter, noone would be checking who'd jumped or been pushed, corporate security were all automatically laid off that morning.
Noone was there to search luggage in the pandemonium of the departure lounge as all comers attempted to escape the planet before the corporate recovery arrived.
So noone noticed the contracts for a sidewinder and SRV tucked in felix's jacket as he watched the smoke plumes from his homeworld shrink into the distance...
 
Mine is a story of tragedy, good fortune and the struggle to survive in the imperial slums.
Although not slaves, my sister Janis and I relied on our mother's lowly income from the black market illegal breast milk trade.
It was only once the last drop was extracted from her barren teat that we knew it was time to make our own way.
We got work in the shipyards, although janis did better than I and was soon working day and night. I heard it said she was the best nut shiner in the business!
Things turned sour and we took a chance by attempting to stowaway in barrels of synthesised meat, that way we had food for the journey beyond.
Sadly once we arrived at Hun Cruacoc it appeared janis had tragically passed away. Having always had a big appetite and her barrel of bio waste being labelled wrongly as meat it was a forgone conclusion.
I decided to right the wrongs and signed up to Mahons Alliance.
With the help of a rich SAP Core investor with an unhealthy addiction to bootleg breast milk I passed on my knowledge to him in return for a deposit on a sidewinder and pilot lessons.
Janis, Ma, I shall avenge you!
 
CMDR DasExorcist was born on Russell Ring in the Eravate system in April of 3268. After spending twenty years as a combat pilot in the Imperial Navy, he retired to pursue a life of freelancing exploration and trade.

DasExorcist (aka. CMDR Ex) gave twenty years of honorable service to the Glory of the Empire as part of Her Majesty’s Imperial Navy from 3284 to 3304. Starting out as a fighter pilot conduting system security services, he retired as a Count in charge of multiple wings and squadrons dedicated to protecting some of the Empire’s most sensitive installations. After finishing his service, CMDR Ex was awarded a Sidewinder spacecraft by the Pilot’s Federation and set out to begin a new life as a freelancer in 3304.

CMDR Ex is a highly active member of the Stellar Photography, Videography, and Fan Art group that provides high quality photos and video of the galaxy to major media organizations like Satiggarius Eye. He is also a regular participant in exploration expeditions and owns a fleet of ships from various manufacturers.

CMDR Ex is currently in deep space searching for the meaning of life and will be participating in the Distant Worlds 2 Expedition in late 3304/3305.
 
This sounds like fun.

John Lyn was an unassuming human born on Earth in 3275, having lived simply for 18 years he was a Jack of all trades but a master of none. Being good at conversation and sketching and most anything he put his mind to wore thin as the days went on. In his childish youth he bored over his simple existence and eventually desired a challenge. He turned to activism. Protesting the unchecked expansion of the interstellar conglomerate Sirius Corp and protesting for the repeal of the Interstellar Crisis Management Act.

Having joined anarchist groups that would eventually form: 'The Cause' in 3294, after several notorious acts of sabotage, vandalism and hacking. A portion of the group was captured and Lyn was interrogated on the prison megaship the master of courage, for four years.

When released he traveled to Asellus Primus where he joined the Pilots Federation. After his training he quickly fell back into his old line of work, namely hacking and sabotage. Having made a small fortune at the expense of the Federation while also gaining their trust, he heard the call from the pleiades and traveled to test his skills, recover the much sought after meta alloys and to aid Palin of AEGIS in procuring hazardous objects for study during the sudden Thargoid resurgence.

Having accomplished assisting Palin, John Lyn missed the life of Earth. Not the government or earthling society but instead the natural beauty and life that he once existed with. He was adamant in his new resolve; to find a world all his own. Having befriended Felicity Farseer with gifts of rare and marvelous meta alloys, he moddified his Asp Explorer, Blackbird. Overhauling its jump range and sensor suite. John Lyn set out in search of an undiscovered garden world among the stars.

One is never enough and so one became two and with effort and patience two became three and three into four and five and on. Having found these worlds. Lyn perplexed himself. His accomplishments, his discoveries, would become the undoing of all the species that inhabited those pristine and untouched worlds. "One is never enough". For as soon as Mankind laid claim, many lifeforms would become novelties and oddities and experiments and even faced extinction. All because of him. And so in 3304 not allowing this to unfold, John Lyn set out to form an organization to preserve all life in the galaxy and record it's existance for the future of all: The Ecological Preservation & Studies Group.
 
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D.D. Harriman
My signature says it all.
I have a second account, James "Mac" McIntyre flying the good ship Care Free.
My extended story line:
D.D. Harriman was rescued and rejuvenated by Lazarus Long and his clone daughters and made an Honorary member of the Howard Family's because he lived so long and also because the businesses and Foundations D.D. setup to get to the moon were still running a thousand years later and had helped Lazarus and the Howard Families get off the Earth in a Generation Ship to keep the short lifer's from enslaving them.
D.D. personally paid to get Mac back and is working to get the rest of the Harriman and Strong team going again.
 
I used to watch fishing drones cutting their angular wakes through the sun glitter from the maintenance balcony of Turbine Three. They were tiny from up there in the wind; so small that I could imagine they were dragons or swans. I would dangle my feet into space, rest my forehead against the cool plastic railing and cast out my senses like a net, trawling magic. The salty scent of the wind; the shimmering, diamond scattered sea; the turbine blades cleaving the air with a sound like the breath of a giant.

As I got older, though, and had to cast my net wider and wider to draw it back with an ever dwindling catch, visits to my place in the clouds became less frequent. I would sit on the opposite side of the tower, my back to the mindless boats and merciless sea, eventually abandoning the balcony, and my childhood, altogether. I thought that magic was for little girls in high places.

Might I find it again, though, out there in the black?
 
Hope is a powerful thing when you have literally nothing. It's the difference between slipping quietly into that long goodnight and finding a tenuous handhold with which to pull yourself through just one more long, dark, fear-filled night. What each of us hope for in our darkest moments might be a reflection of what was once good in our lives, or of perhaps who or what we may one day become. That sort of hope is a luxury only afforded to the free. The hope of a slave is very different indeed. For a boy approaching his prime, snatched by raiders as he watched his family either slaughtered for sport or stripped of any identity and dignity and sold into a short brutal existence of servitude, it is the deepest, darkest, soulless hope of the hopeless. It is the hope for what there is when there is nothing left. It is the hope for vengance.

I don't remember my name, not my real name anyhow. He always called me 'Gabby Neutron' because apparently I reminded him of some comic book character from his childhood... funny, I can't picture that miserable sadist as having anything like a childhood that would include comic books, or anything else that would bring a child joy for that matter. He bought me as part of a parcel of slaves destined to die in the bowels of his painite processing facility on some forsaken backwater moon where life is literally cheaper than ore processing feedstock. Too small to be of any use in a mine but just right to hunt the rodents infesting the hangar and stores rooms, so that was my first job - vermin hunter, and I was good at it. Not least because it ensured a steady source of food, and protein no less! It was the difference between life and death.

Fast forward nearly two decades and here I am, Commander Gabby Neutron. Alone, half way across the galaxy in a sidewinder of all things. How I got here is a story for another day, as for the blood on the bulkheads, floor, console, and my shirt..... I can explain. The good news – it’s not my blood.
 
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My CMDR, Relspi, is possibly the biggest pretender this side of the law.
Relspi isn't, of course, her real name - which is the rather flowery moniker of 'Florence Nightingale', named after some old-Earth celebrity or something. But that didn't sound very CMDR-y, so she made up a callsign for herself.
Relspi is the rich daughter of even richer planetary aristocracy (unaffiliated with the Imperials - the system is, in fact, independent). Spoilt through and through, she eventually hit a rebellious phase in her life and ran away to show her overbearing parents that she was a strong independent woman who didn't need no unlimited funds. She was going to explore the galaxy, and become a bounty hunter like in all those holovids.
So now, Relspi wanders the galaxy, working with bounty hunters, traders and explorers, around the rougher parts the galaxy. She's seen her fair share of conflicts, been in her share of escape pods, and sat in her fair share of rickety old trading vessels. And the entire time, her credit count has slowly climbed higher and higher, her ships getting better and better and her reputation becoming greater and greater.
She hates every minute of it. The only relief she ever gets is whenever she lands at a station and can retire to a high-class establishment (no space bars for her!) to forget all about her awful, awful life choices. Her sense of pride prevents her from returning home, but she really misses all the luxuries she had back there. Which was basically anything anyone could ever want.

I made her personality up entirely from scratch to explain away my irrational desire to use my Dolphin for absolutely everything even though I had many, many ship options that were far superior to it. The general gist of the idea is here - there's more, but it's all been kind of come up with on the fly and I have no way of putting it across well.
 
Introducing the Space Cowboy Actual

CMDR: *REDACTED*
CALLSIGN: SPACE COWBOY ACTUAL

THREAT LEVEL: RED

INFAMOUS INDEPENDENT PILOT, NOTORIOUS FOR OVER FIFTEEN BOUNTIES IN IMPERIAL SPACE AND COUNTLESS OTHERS THROUGH ALLIANCE SPACE.
-WANTED FOR MISANTHROPY

IMPERIAL NAVY FILE:SPACECOWBOYSQUADRON:ACTUAL
<INFORMATION SPECULATIVE
>
*REDACTED* was a young boy when his family was struck down by Alliance system defence forces while trucking coffee through the *REDACTED* System. As his father pushed him and his brothers into escape pods, "Morte Libertas" slipping from his lips, still echoing in *REDACTED*'s concious today.

Falling through space, he watched as his brothers were vaporized by the Alliance contingent of Vulture fighters, as the last bit of his family perished in fire, glory nowhere to be found.

Finding solace in the arms that rescued him, *REDACTED* was sold into slavery on Acheron, the endentured aid of a Navy Regent. Through hard work and ambition, he learned to pilot an Imperial Eagle, running fools errands for his new master.

*REDACTED* growing restless, asked his master for freedom, and a sponsorship to the Imperial Academy. Growing in rank and ambition, he became friends with *REDACTED* and *REDACTED* fighting in the same crew aboard the Spirit of Acheron, an Imperial Cutter, building a fraternal bond with his brothers that bled past the confines of the cockpit and Academy.

*REDACTED* and his Wing became highly decorated in the HIP 20277 Civil War, singlehandedly restoring peace for a short time. During this time, noticing the Independent Parties begin to rise, memories of the Alliance began to rise, and his discontent with the Imperial Bureaucracy caused boredom.

Abandoning post at Fabian City, *REDACTED* ventured across the stars towards the Formadine Rift searching for meaning and purpose, the answers only to be found on the legendary planet of Raxxla. To this day, nobody knows what he found, not even his Wing mates, his family. Upon return, he was greeted with open arms, but fell into none of them. Cold, and emotionless, he asked his squadron to fly with him. They asked what he had found, what had happened that had caused their friend to shut himself off from the world.

"Nothingness."

Adopting the name Space Cowboy Actual, and priding himself on being one of the most dangerous men in the Galaxy, he pilots his modified Fer-de-Lance, the "STRFKR", engaging in conflict zones across the stars, assassinating pirates like the one who sold him as a slave, and wreaking havoc in Alliance systems.

A well decorated space combat pilot, Space Cowboy Actual has no need to trade or explore. His exploration done, his discoveries unknown. But in the fires of battle and glory he will find peace.

Morte libertas.

"Freedom in death."
 
Euphemia "Effie" Trinket was born in 3268 on Achenar, to Justinus and Euphemia Trinket Sr. She was named after her mother. Her parents were famous sponsors of Galnet News, whilst also being very successful in corporate finance.

Effie is an avid supporter of Animal Welfare Organisations, in particular, Cats Protection and The Brooke, whilst notably not caring quite so much about the welfare of Humans! She received a good education in the Capitol and shortly after studying Panemian Fashion at Capitol College, became a model for Capitol Couture. Effie quickly became embroiled in Politics, having become the darling of Rhea Society

Effie loves shoes, but couldn’t manage to carry her collection of heels and her beloved cat (Cheska), when she hastily had to make her escape from Rhea in November 3304, to avoid a scandal, that reportedly involved six Jeraboams of Perrier Jouet at a Truckstop rumoured to be located just outside LHS 6309, Felicia Winters and a young Lieutenant in the Presidential Guard named Miles Franklin. Ms. Winter’s Office has declined to be drawn on the subject and there is no record of there ever having been anyone named Franklin in the Presidential detail of the Guard! Neighbours report that Lt. Franklin’s parents haven’t been seen since Tuesday 4th of that same November.

Upon meeting, Effie needs no introduction, as the first question she always asks everyone she meets, is, “do you happen to know the location of a decent boutique in this System?”

Effie hasn’t yet decided upon any particular career path, as the shoe issue is clouding her judgement, driving her with an almost maniacal single-mindedness, to take whatever jobs she can find that will lead her back, ever closer to Systems where fashion and ‘good taste’ are considered to be most valuable, noteworthy pursuits. Effie has of course increased her onboard closet space by renovating and redesigning the interior of one of the Cygnus-X1’s cargo holds, as she knows that once her collection of six inch heels has been replaced, no Pirate in the entire Galaxy, will stand a chance!
 
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Euphemia "Effie" Trinket was born in 3268 on Achenar, to Justinus and Euphemia Trinket Sr. She was named after her mother. Her parents were famous sponsors of Galnet News, whilst also being very successful in corporate finance.

Effie is an avid supporter of Animal Welfare Organisations, in particular, Cats Protection and The Brooke, whilst notably not caring quite so much about the welfare of Humans! She received a good education in the Capitol and shortly after studying Panemian Fashion at Capitol College, became a model for Capitol Couture. Effie quickly became embroiled in Politics, having become the darling of Rhea Society

Effie loves shoes, but couldn’t manage to carry her collection of heels and her beloved cat (Cheska), when she hastily had to make her escape from Rhea in November 3304, to avoid a scandal, that reportedly involved six Jeraboams of Perrier Jouet at a Truckstop rumoured to be located just outside LHS 6309, Felicia Winters and a young Lieutenant in the Presidential Guard named Miles Franklin. Ms. Winter’s Office has declined to be drawn on the subject and there is no record of there ever having been anyone named Franklin in the Presidential detail of the Guard! Neighbours report that Lt. Franklin’s parents haven’t been seen since Tuesday 4th of that same November.

Upon meeting, Effie needs no introduction, as the first question she always asks everyone she meets, is, “do you happen to know the location of a decent boutique in this System?”

Effie hasn’t yet decided upon any particular career path, as the shoe issue is clouding her judgement, driving her with an almost maniacal single-mindedness, to take whatever jobs she can find that will lead her back, ever closer to Systems where fashion and ‘good taste’ are considered to be most valuable, noteworthy pursuits. Effie has of course increased her onboard closet space by renovating and redesigning the interior of one of the Cygnus-X1’s cargo holds, as she knows that once her collection of six inch heels has been replaced, no Pirate in the entire Galaxy, will stand a chance!
there can't be TWO spoiled rich brats in the vast expanse of space, smh stop stealing characters tbqh
 
there can't be TWO spoiled rich brats in the vast expanse of space, smh stop stealing characters tbqh

Pleased to meet you, Relpsi. I think Einstein would disagree though, as long as the two never occupy the same space, we should be just fine?! Fortunately for us, Effie likes dingy space bars ;)
 
RELSPI :: there can't be TWO spoiled rich brats in the vast expanse of space, smh stop stealing characters tbqh
Pleased to meet you, Relpsi. I think Einstein would disagree though, as long as the two never occupy the same space, we should be just fine?! Fortunately for us, Effie likes dingy space bars ;)
Actually there could be more. D.D. Harriman was willing to do anything not explicitly illegal to get what he wanted and when Lazarus had D.D. brought back, like with Libby Long, the rejuvenation workers, found out that D.D. would rather be a girl. A girl with her old drive to succeed and again become VERY RICH so she could explore.
 
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Actually there could be more. D.D. Harriman was willing to do anything not explicitly illegal to get what he wanted and when Lazarus had D.D. brought back, like with Libby Long, the rejuvenation workers, found out that D.D. would rather be a girl. A girl with her old drive to succeed and again become VERY RICH so she could explore.
This sounds to me like, uh, UNORIGINALITY. My idea was never done before and anyone claiming otherwise is both a HACKER and a TROLL who stole my CREATIVE VIBES.
Thankfully, it's in-character for me to forgive you.
 
This sounds to me like, uh, UNORIGINALITY. My idea was never done before and anyone claiming otherwise is both a HACKER and a TROLL who stole my CREATIVE VIBES.
Thankfully, it's in-character for me to forgive you.
We are both copycats unless you did it before July 12, 1980 when ‎Robert A. Heinlein released The Number Of the Beast to the world. It is in that book that it is revealed that Andrew Jackson "Slipstick" Libby,, the man that made the inertialess drive that got the Howard Families off the Earth and then returned most of them using an even faster time dilation drive, had been killed in an accident during some space exploration and Lazarus had put him in a capsule and cryogenic preserved the body for later resurrection/reconstruction and during that medical process it was discovered that Andrew really wanted to be a girl and so Libby Long was born.
 
We are both copycats unless you did it before July 12, 1980 when ‎Robert A. Heinlein released The Number Of the Beast to the world. It is in that book that it is revealed that Andrew Jackson "Slipstick" Libby,, the man that made the inertialess drive that got the Howard Families off the Earth and then returned most of them using an even faster time dilation drive, had been killed in an accident during some space exploration and Lazarus had put him in a capsule and cryogenic preserved the body for later resurrection/reconstruction and during that medical process it was discovered that Andrew really wanted to be a girl and so Libby Long was born.
Uh, sounds to me like this Robert guy was a CRIMINAL. Sounds like he read my notebook or something, smh.
 
Hi!
I'm Ius, Mister Ius to those who care.
Used to fly support and rescue missions for the federation before being booted out of the service for 'inbibing' too much plant material. Liked the job, but was stuck on a back moon with too much time on my hands and nothing to do but read. Came across this ancient post from a database called 'wikipedia' (not really that wicked, just a bunch of old posts of facts from earth waaay back whenever) and I read about this ship (boat) called RS1, made by a guy called Colin Archer. This was a small wood sailing ship that was sailing the arctic waters of a country called Norway from 1893 to 1933 aiding commanders and fishfarmers in distress, rescuing hundreds of lives, assisting thousands of vessels. Spent my last credits on a beat up Sidewinder and have traded my way up to my Keelback, now the "RSR Colin Archer" (RSR=Rocinante (class) Search and Rescue) which I now fly around the Merope/Maia systems looking for lost souls during the Thargoid war. My life has again meaning!
 
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