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thegreatspaceracerp2022-11-12 05:45 pm
space_aces) wrote in thegreatspaceracerp2022-11-12 05:45 pm
Entry tags:
EVENT #1
SURVIVAL OF THE FASTEST
Dropping a set of coordinates in the logs of every Privateer space ship with no further elaboration or explanation is a way of delivering a lead that only SUPERBIA would do. What awaits at the site of the coordinates is not a civilization, nor an unpopulated rock, but a planet-sized tourist trap: The Dayton Entertainment Platform, the host of the biggest space ship race in the tri-galaxy area, the Mobius Prix.
For a place where everything is happening, none of it seems to matter for a treasure-hunting Privateer. The coordinates may seem like a total non sequitur, or a passive aggressive suggestion from SUPERBIA to take it easy. Until one starts hearing the rumors that the prize for winning the race was carved from a piece of Fortuna itself...
For a place where everything is happening, none of it seems to matter for a treasure-hunting Privateer. The coordinates may seem like a total non sequitur, or a passive aggressive suggestion from SUPERBIA to take it easy. Until one starts hearing the rumors that the prize for winning the race was carved from a piece of Fortuna itself...
1Now This Is Podracing
The Möbius Prix is an utterly ruthless affair. Anything goes, with the only rule of the race being no weapons. If a Privateer wants a closer look at that trophy, they can consider entering the race and winning it for themself. Fast space ships have an advantage (advice that could have come from the mouth of Herlock Sholmes.) But speed isn't the only factor that matters here...
Space ships don't worry about terrain per se, but the race track passes through difficult space with a claustrophobic amount of obstructions that require an ace pilot's skills and intuition to traverse. The track also goes through the territory of nasty creatures, including a pack of Triple Helix Hammerjaws during their mating season. Good luck dealing with an aggressive male Hammerjaw that thinks you're what's between him and getting laid. On top of all that, the racers will start to notice some less than natural obstacles. Mines that blow up passing vehicles, tripwires that can catch a speeding space ship, and laser turrets aimed at the track, it seems some racers don't heed the No Weapons rule as long as it isn't on the ship itself.
Space ships don't worry about terrain per se, but the race track passes through difficult space with a claustrophobic amount of obstructions that require an ace pilot's skills and intuition to traverse. The track also goes through the territory of nasty creatures, including a pack of Triple Helix Hammerjaws during their mating season. Good luck dealing with an aggressive male Hammerjaw that thinks you're what's between him and getting laid. On top of all that, the racers will start to notice some less than natural obstacles. Mines that blow up passing vehicles, tripwires that can catch a speeding space ship, and laser turrets aimed at the track, it seems some racers don't heed the No Weapons rule as long as it isn't on the ship itself.
2Changing Hands
It's not just the competitors that have a vested interest in the outcome of this race. Intermingled with the spectators are gamblers, sweating while watching the results of their bets. No matter who wins, a lot of money is going to be exchanged in the end. Maybe try to cash out on a bet yourself, if one has a lot of faith in your fellow crewmate.
Just like on the track, people play dirty here as well. In the shadows, one might catch some suspicious looking characters lurking around. Following them will lead to one finding some tough looking guys conspiring together, with race fixing being an especially alarming keyword. Those death traps on the race track are not so inexplicable now.
It's common knowledge (to the point that locals will find you a bit naive for not knowing) that the race is a front for vast transactions of money among the local criminal empires. Investigating a bit deeper will reveal the involvement of a specific organized crime family, The Belladahlias. A lot of snooping around (whether through intelligence or arm-twisting) will disclose that the winner is rigged to be a certain ship, the Polar Star. That last tidbit will come at the cost of attracting the attention of large, suspicious followers dressed in black. Ruh-roh! Let's hope you're as fast on your feet as behind the wheel.
Just like on the track, people play dirty here as well. In the shadows, one might catch some suspicious looking characters lurking around. Following them will lead to one finding some tough looking guys conspiring together, with race fixing being an especially alarming keyword. Those death traps on the race track are not so inexplicable now.
It's common knowledge (to the point that locals will find you a bit naive for not knowing) that the race is a front for vast transactions of money among the local criminal empires. Investigating a bit deeper will reveal the involvement of a specific organized crime family, The Belladahlias. A lot of snooping around (whether through intelligence or arm-twisting) will disclose that the winner is rigged to be a certain ship, the Polar Star. That last tidbit will come at the cost of attracting the attention of large, suspicious followers dressed in black. Ruh-roh! Let's hope you're as fast on your feet as behind the wheel.
3Fast Food
Those with less of a need for speed are free to leisurely enjoy the splendors of Dayton. Attractions include rides, entertainers, and plenty of the Largest in the Tri-Galaxy Area and Smallest in the Tri-Galaxy Area of miscellaneous objects.
Dayton is practically half-shopping mall half-race course, with countless sellers attracted to the planet with dreams of extracting money from tourists. Omnipresent is the amount of merchandise centering around the Mobius Prix, each vendor promoting their racer of choice. T-shirts, water bottles, fans, balloons, anything you can slap a face on, it's being sold. When in Rome, why not do as the Romans do, and sell merchandise with a crewmate's face on it? Supportive AND profitable!
If any of the goods catches your eye, however, prepare to have to open your wallet wide. The Rat Race might be as brutal as the space ship tournament. Everything on Dayton is sold with massive price gouging, including the most overpriced hotdog you will ever see. If it's just food SUPERBIA will probably allow you to write it down as a living expense, but it's the principle of the thing.
Dayton is practically half-shopping mall half-race course, with countless sellers attracted to the planet with dreams of extracting money from tourists. Omnipresent is the amount of merchandise centering around the Mobius Prix, each vendor promoting their racer of choice. T-shirts, water bottles, fans, balloons, anything you can slap a face on, it's being sold. When in Rome, why not do as the Romans do, and sell merchandise with a crewmate's face on it? Supportive AND profitable!
If any of the goods catches your eye, however, prepare to have to open your wallet wide. The Rat Race might be as brutal as the space ship tournament. Everything on Dayton is sold with massive price gouging, including the most overpriced hotdog you will ever see. If it's just food SUPERBIA will probably allow you to write it down as a living expense, but it's the principle of the thing.
no subject
Doing as the Romans do
The markets around the races were nothing short of a marvel, cutthroat and exploitative even as they were, and Tok wasn't one to miss an opportunity. The little stalls selling toys and mockups of the different racers had captured her imagination, and now she felt inspired.
And so, barely a day after the Prix had started, a new stall entirely had appeared, one admittedly a little hastily constructed- but the kobold behind it was hard at work, hammering and forging with all the love and attention to detail of a master- two products she knew even the best imitators couldn't hope to match. Tiny constructs, some buzzing about overhead, some arrayed on the table in front of her, with a pair of many-legged clockworks merrily engaged in making more.
There are a few toys, of course, on offer- little clockwork kobolds that move and walk about exactly as directed- dragons and airships that really flew, albeit slowly and clumsily, avoiding obstacles and staying within a certain range of their owner, but for the Privateer with an enterprising soul (or, perhaps, an ego), she'd offered, as well, to sell model starships and even poppets of the Privateers themselves- with their likenesses' permission, of course, and with the source's owners receiving half the takings.
⚙ INDUSTRIOUS ESPIONAGE
Little kobold in big trouble
As it turned out...
People did not, in point of fact, like the idea of Tok snooping around and asking pointed questions. That the race was rigged was nothing surprising; this much money being thrown around, how could there not be? What was surprising was the fact that she was now being followed by very serious-looking men in black suits, none of whom looked as though they had friendly conversation in mind.
A glance over her shoulder revealed there were actually quite a few of them, at least six she could see... that was bad, actually. Not in that she thought they were a threat to her- but more that she knew, if it came down to a fight, it was going to end up being a great big bloody scene.
Then again, so would activating the Drive and taking off. Well... damn.
no subject
Her huffing mood ended immediately upon finding a kobold with her own little stand. It had a good variety, too.
The being looked like a lagartija, and a brilliant one at that. Spiders that worked not that differently from those farmers back home would use at times, and even got to build little ships in such a small amount of time.
Her world lacked friendly aliens, but there was one reason Adela did not immediately turn hostile: That engineer didn't try to kill her on sight, so that made her like the small alien.
"How did you build all of that to sell just now?"
no subject
no subject
She stepped ever so carefully around, trying not to break anything by her height alone. And hell, she felt weird being taller at times. And indeed, she noticed that many of the ships were in fact replicas, starting with some skeletons to be armed into miniature ships. Adela knelt.
"Órale," She hovered a hand over these machines. Those little things were more efficient than the crooks selling from the other stands.
"How much have you made so far? Everything out there is a ripoff," she carefully lifted one of the ship models to study it. It even had minor window details. "These things would sell like pan caliente, especially if you sell them for cheap."
She grinned, "need help selling stuff?"
no subject
Not that she couldn't make things that could do that, but for now all she'd taken with her were a few Wrights and a pair of Servants for the heavy lifting. "I don't overcharge for 'em, if that's what you mean. But high-quality steel an' brass ain't worth nothing. They're built t'last, on account of I can't stand shoddy work, but I don't mind takin' a dent to my takings, if you think that'd get 'em more out there."
no subject
Don't look now, Tok-- here comes the cute and fluffy merchandising-juggernaut-waiting-to-be-tapped himself. ...Except, rather than having a windscreen-mountable suction-cupped Red Savarin or something like that in his mitts, he had a small, plastic facsimile of Tok. Rather cheaply made, but recognizable nonetheless.
It was soon thrust in her face.
"Why didn't you tell me?!"
no subject
Her expression said it all, really. Tok was offended. "I'd appreciate it if you told me where you found this, Red. I mean t'say, look at this! J'you call this a poppet? It don't even move, there's only about three points'f articulation on't ole thing! And the 'ead's a different color from't body. No, no, no no-"
She chucked the toy over her shoulder. "Never seen such shite workmanship in me life, I don't doubt they made it t'last til about five minutes after their shop's all packed up. Sit." She pointed, without looking, behind him- and there was a shuffling bipedal clockwork, helpfully setting down a stool for him to sit on while she pulled a pile of parts in front of her, working on assembling them with haste and care. "Ain't gonna have people thinkin' I make useless tat like that."
no subject
Why was she so concerned with quality when she had her own action figure??-- wait, no, that wasn't even what Red actually wanted to talk to her about.
"Wha? No, hold the heck on! I mean the thing about your arms!"
And, once he'd wrested her focus back onto her own unauthorized merch, he pressed down a button near the top of one of her shoulders...
which then sent a spring-loaded rocket fist sailing through the air.