Blademaster
28th January 2013, 10:26 PM
The year is 2831 A.D.. The location is a small star system about 28,000 light years from the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. This star system, once largely empty save for a single blue-and-green planet orbiting its star at a distance of about 8.3 light-minutes, is now bustling with activity.
Why?
The answer is elementary: progress. Humans, the dominant species of that blue-green ball, have had countless millennia to hone themselves, and hone they have. Through a combination of scientific, political, and ethical practices that their 21st century ancestors would struggle to understand - let alone trust - they have managed to unite, defying instinctual Darwinism and uniting as an entire species in the hope of a better future.
The seeds of that hope were planted, ironically enough (as life often is), in the midst of a global power struggle nearly 900 years earlier during the First Space Race. Two superpowers competed frantically in order to breach the boundaries of an entire planet, largely for what were basically bragging rights... However, when the border was finally crossed, the expanses beyond it awed and humbled the human population. Millions began to truly contemplate the insignificance of an entire planet, and the pettiness of those currently ruling and populating it... However, war and economics stole the global focus from astronomy for a good 70 years, until the early decades of the 21st century, when a struggling space program was drastically shaken back to life: A private contractor with a dream and the billions of dollars needed to make it a reality announced his plan to establish the first Martian colony to the world. Many scoffed at the idea and dismissed it as science fiction.
Ten years later, the first humans in history set foot upon Mars, prepared to live the rest of their lives in a series of robot-assembled huts and tunnels in the name of science. They built, they studied, they strove to sculpt a small yet stable habitat, and as the years passed, more terrestrial supplies and more colonists - both professional astronauts and humble everyday men and women - arrived on the red planet to help. The unexpected success of the expeditions spurred another corporation into funding a Lunar settlement. Funding poured into NASA, who sought ideas of how to begin TERRAFORMING Mars. The Second Space Race had begun.
By the next century, Mars and Luna had indeed been permanently settled. The Lunar base, named Armstrong, acted as a massive industrial site, and the Martian settlement of Olympia had grown into an entire city, assembled from both terrestrial supply shipments and Martian and Lunar mining operations. Everything was going as planned... for a time.
But in regards to the Second Space Race, the Earth itself had begun losing ground for a simple yet critical reason:
Despite having been funded by Earth-dwelling humans (colloquially called 'Terrans'), Olympia and Armstrong operated outside the boundaries of government and law. Working on the interplanetary colonies (IPC's) was invigorating. There was always a job to do, and always time to think. People didn't work for money - they did their jobs as assigned in order to live. They soon came to rely less on laws and currency systems to keep things running, and more on each other. Accidents would happen, but they were minimal. Actual crime was nigh-nonexistent. The colonists were busy, and they were happy.
The Terrans, on the other hand, clung to the same systems they'd known their whole lives. Competing powers strove to claim as many resources as possible as well as inhibit other powers who shared their motives, simultaneously. This slowed Terran productivity to a crawl. They fell decades behind the IPC's; efforts were made by the rulers of the planet (now commonly called the Global Operating Federation) to adapt, but Terrans on Earth were bored. Bored of their rulers. Bored with their lives. Every passing day that the interplanetary Solnet updated, the IPC's had found some new great thing. Cures for autism! A solar power grid that rendered nuclear energy obsolete! Free-thinking robots! It grew frustrating for the Terrans to see such things, and then look at the world around them and see the same problems they'd always had. Daily violence, homelessness, regular crime rates, apartheid, ANOTHER damn war with the Russians. It was too much to bear. Terrans began to emigrate to Luna and Mars en masse. This further destabilized the global economy, leading to tightening of the laws of extraterrestrial emigration and driving up the price to leave. This only made the restless Terrans even angrier. Earth was spiraling out of control.
In 2268, the Olympian robotic industry had advanced to a point where microscopic machines were a reality. Able to magnetically link together and share information, these new machines were known as combining constructs, or 'Cocos,' and would most often amass into humanoid robots subsequently called 'Cocoids.' A shipment for Earth of several hundred trillion dollars of the machines was mere months from being launched when it happened: the GOF denied entry from a transport shuttle that Olympia had sent to move more Terrans, purely as a gesture of good will. The colonists responded by cutting off their robotic trade route, demanding that the GOF stop treating Terrans like prisoners. Tensions mounted, and the GOF soon threatened to disable Solnet and end all diplomatic relations with the colonies if they didn't lift their embargo.
Neither side budged for nearly four decades. All attempts to reach a compromise failed. Terran access to the Solnet became monitored, and colonial transport shuttles found it harder and harder to make trips even from the nearest spaceport, in Armstrong. Unrest on Earth grew, as did crime and suicide rates. Something had to give.
On May 27th, 2306, it gave. Solnet went dead. But the GOF had not done it. The colonists had. All communications between Earth and its neighbors had been cut. Anarchy threatened to break out as billions of frustrated Terrans began to believe that they'd been abandoned. A few minutes later, however, Solnet came back on for just long enough to broadcast a single message to the entire Earth:
Do not worry. We are coming.
Unable to respond due to the Solnet blackout, the GOF was more than prepared for the worst. The colonists were invading. As soon as a landing site was announced a few weeks later, it was immediately occupied. Hundreds of jets, bicopters, armored trucks, and rail tanks surrounded the area, alongside countless military personnel from across the globe.
The IPC's descended in three ships, barely 20 meters high and ten wide. Each was relatively featureless, save for a logo:
The center ship depicted a rust-colored sphere with the name 'Salvadore' wrapped around it in white font.
The ship to the left depicted a grey, cratered sphere with the name 'Tranquillus' coiled around it in white font.
And the ship to the right depicted a pale blue sphere lined with brown scuffs and scratches, with the name 'Pioneer' wrapped around it in white font.
Every weapon was ready. One brigadier-general began to read off a list of offenses and Miranda rights to the invaders, but he was interrupted by the three ships suddenly changing. Plates slid past one another, metal warped, and joints flexed as the three ships took on short, stout, humanoid shapes, their emblems now branded onto their upper arms. Salvatore's mouth opened just before the order was given to fire:
"We are here on a mission of peace. We have come to liberate our brothers and sisters from those that rule over them unjustly and against their will. Let them come as they please. We command none, and welcome all."
Just prior to that moment, Solnet came back online. Salvatore's message was proclaimed to the entire planet. Some of the commanding officers began to yell treason, but Salvatore ignored them, going on to state that the first mass shuttles were already being launched from Olympia and Armstrong and would be arriving within days at the latest.
The Terran army opened fire.
It ceased fire approximately 4 minutes later, the landing site little more than scorched dust. Salvatore, Tranquillus, and Pioneer weren't even scratched. All that had changed was that Tranquillus had crossed its arms.
"...If you are done," Salvatore's voice dryly said, "we will take our leave. Your weapons will fare no better against our supershuttles than they have against us. That being said, our offer is available to all, including you. You can take it, or you can stay here. Just remember which of us instruct you with arms bore, and which of us welcome you with arms open..."
And then, they assumed their original shape, and lifted off into space again.
From that year onward, May 27th - Liberation Day - held a greater significance to humans than July 4th. Or July 1st. Or September 16th, or any other national independence day. EARTH was free. Exponentially more people left Earth during that week and the month of June than had in the past 300 years combined. The liberated Terrans incorporated themselves into the colonies on Mars, Luna, and Europa with surprising ease. Orientations were held. Regimens were laid out. A social order was detailed, and the Terrans took to it eagerly. Those with difficulties adjusting were shocked to find that interplanetary medical science could now treat countless millions of people suffering depression, anxiety, and other prominent Terrestrial afflictions. For the former Terrans, it was a paradise.
During the following 200 years, Earth underwent a series of drastic changes. At first, the planet was largely quiet. A few would-be emigrants would make requests now and then via Solnet to emigrate to Mars, or Luna, or Europa, Titan, Venus... But most of the remaining Terrans exiled themselves. Some were the bitter, spiteful remnants of a dead political empire. Others were like the Amish, finding a life in the (relative) past to be quite peaceful. Still others formed gangs or simply ran amok, reveling in global anarchy. This repulsed the Extraterrans (as the colonists and Terran refugees had begun to call themselves). They could not accept the possibility of mankind's worst aspects surviving in society, on the world they'd all started on no less. So, in the mid-2600's, humanity came full circle, launching an expedition to retake (or, more accurately, 'martiaform') the Earth. As they had over three centuries earlier, mechanical ambassadors descended upon Earth. However, these machines were not defended by dated combining constructs anymore: The nanoscopic machines were now combatant as well, leading to them being renamed 'Tricos,' the machines they amalgamated into appropriately reclassified as 'Tricoids.' These ambassador ships, each one miles in length, descended upon Earth en masse, settling into orbit and releasing hundreds of thousands of standard-class Tricoids as scouts. They quickly landed and spread over all seven continents, seeking out to finally make peace with the remaining Terrans.
The first encounter occurred within minutes of landing, on what had once been the Scottish Highland. The native Terrans (dubbed 'Terrindians' by Extraterran anthroplogists) regarded the Tricoids with apprehension. They knew from Solnet that the stories they'd been told of alien men that used their technology to terrorize the Earth and abduct people were distorted fabrications at best, but it took time for the Terrindians to learn to trust their brethren. They did not object, however, to Extraterran requests to resettle on Earth and build anew. In fact, the Terrindians were quite curious about the Extraterran technology that was a good three centuries ahead of their own, at the least. They began to assist in the (re)settlement, and many Sehnsucht-afflicted Extraterrans returned to Earth to lend their assistance. Tricoids of truly immense size descended and began to structure themselves into cities: the first Terran capital of Gilgam in what was once Turkey, the industrial center of New Earth City that occupied most of what used to be New Jersey and Long Island, the museum city of Alexander mere kilometers from the Pyramids of Giza, and many more. Before long, Earth was completely resettled. Its citizens, Terrindian and Extraterran alike, began to call themselves Neoterrans. All that remained undone was to instill Extraterran order.
Quite simply, Earth needed a leader. But not just anyone, as had been decided when every other colony was settled. Initial Martian, Lunar, Europan, Titanian, Venusian, and even Ceresian leadership was decided based on simple facts: Who got there first, and who was most qualified to lead once there? In Earth's case, the former answer was the Terrindians (None of whom felt comfortable with the idea of running an entire planet.), and the latter simply couldn't be easily determined out of billions of people. An election would rely largely on random chance. The risk was too great. So, with the permission of the Terrindian natives, the Neoterrans eventually decided to employ their own political system - in the form of a grand tournament - in order to seek a leader.
The tournament was a monumental success, viewed by billions and appointing the first leader of the Earth in centuries: the Pinnacle. In the 70 years since then, Pinnacles have come and gone. It's all part of the game. And in a few weeks from now, the game is going to begin again...
...Mm? "What game?"
I'm glad you asked...
---------------------------------------------
TL;DR: It's 800+ years in the future. We've colonized Luna (the Moon), Mars, Venus, Ceres (bigass rock between Mars and Jupiter), Europa (icy ocean-covered moon of Jupiter), and Titan (icy atmosphere'd moon of Saturn), and we're working on Mercury. People in space started doing more deep thinking and got better at doing shit than greedy self-serving Earth, space-people made awesome shit and gave everyone robots and then they freed the oppressed Earth people and invited them into space. But a lot of people got homesick and went back to Earth and brought their robots with them. War isn't allowed. Being a dick isn't allowed. You have a problem? Then you talk it out like a grown-up.
You still have a problem? BIG ROBOT FIGHTS.
SIGN-UP SHIT:
NAME: (What're you called?)
AGE: (How old are you? [NOTE: 29th century humans can easily live to be 171 years old])
GENDER: (Don't be an asshole here: Just because we have the technology to make you a male-born woman that crossdresses and calls itself gay and then decides to get rabbit ears DOESN'T mean you have to do it. Freak.)
ORIGIN: (Which planet are you from? I'm not sure yet whether or not this will be significant outside of a few physical characteristics.)
WAGE: (How much cash do you have? The upper limit is 9,999 'alms.' Once you hit that cap, you won't get any more cash until you spend or donate some of it. This is to keep the economy stimulated and prevent any 99%/1% scenarios from ever reoccurring.)
LICENSE: (Do you have a Tricoid? If so, what kind? See below for options.)
APPEARANCE: (What do you look like? Body modifications exist, as do prosthetics. No aliens, though.)
PERSONALITY: (What're you like? Remember, the asshole genes are more or less gone from Extraterrans, so no being an emo misanthrope or edgy-as-a-fractal anarchist. It won't work.)
CURRENT EMPLOYMENT: (What do you do? This can be a job, a hobby, or even just sitting around doing fuckall all day. Poverty is nonexistent, so why stress all the time?)
HISTORY: (What led to where/how you are today?)
RELATIONSHIPS: (Got any friends or family? Or maybe just a really smart pet?)
OTHER: (First person to say this is basically Yu-Gi-Oh! with robots and a slightly more coherent plot gets smacked in the teeth.)
ABOUT TRICOIDS:
If you're 12 or older, you can get a Trainer's License Duel Disk Tricoid, which is a highly customizable robot. Basically, it looks like a 2-meter 'core' (where the pilot sits) with a neural interface, surrounded by several tons of Tricos: tiny-but-not-quite-nano-machines that attract and interlock according to the pilot's wishes. These Tricos are bonded to the 'core' and will seek it out again if detached, broken, or ejected from the rest of the machine. The malleability of the Tricos allows them to alter the Tricoid's size, shape, and appearance to some degree, as well as form into different weapons.
If you want to have one (and why wouldn't you?), just attach a filled-out version of this to your sign-up:
NAME: (What's your Tricoid called?)
SIZE: (How big is your robot? [NOTE: The standard model has an upper limit of 200 tons due to the square-cube law being a dick.])
MODEL: (Your choices are G-class [standard model], V-class [huge ones used primarily for transport], and if you're REALLY Goddamn important, A-class [an entire city])
APPEARANCE: (What does this thing look like when at rest?)
SKILL: (Does this thing have any special techniques? Are you known for anything specific in the game circuit? Be creative! [NOTE: Don't feel restricted to just using whatever you put in here. Remember, the possibilities are limited only by what your brain can come up with.)
OTHER: (All G-class Tricoids are customizable by their very nature, but some of them are special. Maybe they belong to someone who's damn good at the game, or someone who spends way too many alms on their robot. If you're history permits it, go on ahead and request a custom G-class.)
There's a few other rules and things that'll help to know, but this shit is long enough already. I'll jot down the fine print later.
Why?
The answer is elementary: progress. Humans, the dominant species of that blue-green ball, have had countless millennia to hone themselves, and hone they have. Through a combination of scientific, political, and ethical practices that their 21st century ancestors would struggle to understand - let alone trust - they have managed to unite, defying instinctual Darwinism and uniting as an entire species in the hope of a better future.
The seeds of that hope were planted, ironically enough (as life often is), in the midst of a global power struggle nearly 900 years earlier during the First Space Race. Two superpowers competed frantically in order to breach the boundaries of an entire planet, largely for what were basically bragging rights... However, when the border was finally crossed, the expanses beyond it awed and humbled the human population. Millions began to truly contemplate the insignificance of an entire planet, and the pettiness of those currently ruling and populating it... However, war and economics stole the global focus from astronomy for a good 70 years, until the early decades of the 21st century, when a struggling space program was drastically shaken back to life: A private contractor with a dream and the billions of dollars needed to make it a reality announced his plan to establish the first Martian colony to the world. Many scoffed at the idea and dismissed it as science fiction.
Ten years later, the first humans in history set foot upon Mars, prepared to live the rest of their lives in a series of robot-assembled huts and tunnels in the name of science. They built, they studied, they strove to sculpt a small yet stable habitat, and as the years passed, more terrestrial supplies and more colonists - both professional astronauts and humble everyday men and women - arrived on the red planet to help. The unexpected success of the expeditions spurred another corporation into funding a Lunar settlement. Funding poured into NASA, who sought ideas of how to begin TERRAFORMING Mars. The Second Space Race had begun.
By the next century, Mars and Luna had indeed been permanently settled. The Lunar base, named Armstrong, acted as a massive industrial site, and the Martian settlement of Olympia had grown into an entire city, assembled from both terrestrial supply shipments and Martian and Lunar mining operations. Everything was going as planned... for a time.
But in regards to the Second Space Race, the Earth itself had begun losing ground for a simple yet critical reason:
Despite having been funded by Earth-dwelling humans (colloquially called 'Terrans'), Olympia and Armstrong operated outside the boundaries of government and law. Working on the interplanetary colonies (IPC's) was invigorating. There was always a job to do, and always time to think. People didn't work for money - they did their jobs as assigned in order to live. They soon came to rely less on laws and currency systems to keep things running, and more on each other. Accidents would happen, but they were minimal. Actual crime was nigh-nonexistent. The colonists were busy, and they were happy.
The Terrans, on the other hand, clung to the same systems they'd known their whole lives. Competing powers strove to claim as many resources as possible as well as inhibit other powers who shared their motives, simultaneously. This slowed Terran productivity to a crawl. They fell decades behind the IPC's; efforts were made by the rulers of the planet (now commonly called the Global Operating Federation) to adapt, but Terrans on Earth were bored. Bored of their rulers. Bored with their lives. Every passing day that the interplanetary Solnet updated, the IPC's had found some new great thing. Cures for autism! A solar power grid that rendered nuclear energy obsolete! Free-thinking robots! It grew frustrating for the Terrans to see such things, and then look at the world around them and see the same problems they'd always had. Daily violence, homelessness, regular crime rates, apartheid, ANOTHER damn war with the Russians. It was too much to bear. Terrans began to emigrate to Luna and Mars en masse. This further destabilized the global economy, leading to tightening of the laws of extraterrestrial emigration and driving up the price to leave. This only made the restless Terrans even angrier. Earth was spiraling out of control.
In 2268, the Olympian robotic industry had advanced to a point where microscopic machines were a reality. Able to magnetically link together and share information, these new machines were known as combining constructs, or 'Cocos,' and would most often amass into humanoid robots subsequently called 'Cocoids.' A shipment for Earth of several hundred trillion dollars of the machines was mere months from being launched when it happened: the GOF denied entry from a transport shuttle that Olympia had sent to move more Terrans, purely as a gesture of good will. The colonists responded by cutting off their robotic trade route, demanding that the GOF stop treating Terrans like prisoners. Tensions mounted, and the GOF soon threatened to disable Solnet and end all diplomatic relations with the colonies if they didn't lift their embargo.
Neither side budged for nearly four decades. All attempts to reach a compromise failed. Terran access to the Solnet became monitored, and colonial transport shuttles found it harder and harder to make trips even from the nearest spaceport, in Armstrong. Unrest on Earth grew, as did crime and suicide rates. Something had to give.
On May 27th, 2306, it gave. Solnet went dead. But the GOF had not done it. The colonists had. All communications between Earth and its neighbors had been cut. Anarchy threatened to break out as billions of frustrated Terrans began to believe that they'd been abandoned. A few minutes later, however, Solnet came back on for just long enough to broadcast a single message to the entire Earth:
Do not worry. We are coming.
Unable to respond due to the Solnet blackout, the GOF was more than prepared for the worst. The colonists were invading. As soon as a landing site was announced a few weeks later, it was immediately occupied. Hundreds of jets, bicopters, armored trucks, and rail tanks surrounded the area, alongside countless military personnel from across the globe.
The IPC's descended in three ships, barely 20 meters high and ten wide. Each was relatively featureless, save for a logo:
The center ship depicted a rust-colored sphere with the name 'Salvadore' wrapped around it in white font.
The ship to the left depicted a grey, cratered sphere with the name 'Tranquillus' coiled around it in white font.
And the ship to the right depicted a pale blue sphere lined with brown scuffs and scratches, with the name 'Pioneer' wrapped around it in white font.
Every weapon was ready. One brigadier-general began to read off a list of offenses and Miranda rights to the invaders, but he was interrupted by the three ships suddenly changing. Plates slid past one another, metal warped, and joints flexed as the three ships took on short, stout, humanoid shapes, their emblems now branded onto their upper arms. Salvatore's mouth opened just before the order was given to fire:
"We are here on a mission of peace. We have come to liberate our brothers and sisters from those that rule over them unjustly and against their will. Let them come as they please. We command none, and welcome all."
Just prior to that moment, Solnet came back online. Salvatore's message was proclaimed to the entire planet. Some of the commanding officers began to yell treason, but Salvatore ignored them, going on to state that the first mass shuttles were already being launched from Olympia and Armstrong and would be arriving within days at the latest.
The Terran army opened fire.
It ceased fire approximately 4 minutes later, the landing site little more than scorched dust. Salvatore, Tranquillus, and Pioneer weren't even scratched. All that had changed was that Tranquillus had crossed its arms.
"...If you are done," Salvatore's voice dryly said, "we will take our leave. Your weapons will fare no better against our supershuttles than they have against us. That being said, our offer is available to all, including you. You can take it, or you can stay here. Just remember which of us instruct you with arms bore, and which of us welcome you with arms open..."
And then, they assumed their original shape, and lifted off into space again.
From that year onward, May 27th - Liberation Day - held a greater significance to humans than July 4th. Or July 1st. Or September 16th, or any other national independence day. EARTH was free. Exponentially more people left Earth during that week and the month of June than had in the past 300 years combined. The liberated Terrans incorporated themselves into the colonies on Mars, Luna, and Europa with surprising ease. Orientations were held. Regimens were laid out. A social order was detailed, and the Terrans took to it eagerly. Those with difficulties adjusting were shocked to find that interplanetary medical science could now treat countless millions of people suffering depression, anxiety, and other prominent Terrestrial afflictions. For the former Terrans, it was a paradise.
During the following 200 years, Earth underwent a series of drastic changes. At first, the planet was largely quiet. A few would-be emigrants would make requests now and then via Solnet to emigrate to Mars, or Luna, or Europa, Titan, Venus... But most of the remaining Terrans exiled themselves. Some were the bitter, spiteful remnants of a dead political empire. Others were like the Amish, finding a life in the (relative) past to be quite peaceful. Still others formed gangs or simply ran amok, reveling in global anarchy. This repulsed the Extraterrans (as the colonists and Terran refugees had begun to call themselves). They could not accept the possibility of mankind's worst aspects surviving in society, on the world they'd all started on no less. So, in the mid-2600's, humanity came full circle, launching an expedition to retake (or, more accurately, 'martiaform') the Earth. As they had over three centuries earlier, mechanical ambassadors descended upon Earth. However, these machines were not defended by dated combining constructs anymore: The nanoscopic machines were now combatant as well, leading to them being renamed 'Tricos,' the machines they amalgamated into appropriately reclassified as 'Tricoids.' These ambassador ships, each one miles in length, descended upon Earth en masse, settling into orbit and releasing hundreds of thousands of standard-class Tricoids as scouts. They quickly landed and spread over all seven continents, seeking out to finally make peace with the remaining Terrans.
The first encounter occurred within minutes of landing, on what had once been the Scottish Highland. The native Terrans (dubbed 'Terrindians' by Extraterran anthroplogists) regarded the Tricoids with apprehension. They knew from Solnet that the stories they'd been told of alien men that used their technology to terrorize the Earth and abduct people were distorted fabrications at best, but it took time for the Terrindians to learn to trust their brethren. They did not object, however, to Extraterran requests to resettle on Earth and build anew. In fact, the Terrindians were quite curious about the Extraterran technology that was a good three centuries ahead of their own, at the least. They began to assist in the (re)settlement, and many Sehnsucht-afflicted Extraterrans returned to Earth to lend their assistance. Tricoids of truly immense size descended and began to structure themselves into cities: the first Terran capital of Gilgam in what was once Turkey, the industrial center of New Earth City that occupied most of what used to be New Jersey and Long Island, the museum city of Alexander mere kilometers from the Pyramids of Giza, and many more. Before long, Earth was completely resettled. Its citizens, Terrindian and Extraterran alike, began to call themselves Neoterrans. All that remained undone was to instill Extraterran order.
Quite simply, Earth needed a leader. But not just anyone, as had been decided when every other colony was settled. Initial Martian, Lunar, Europan, Titanian, Venusian, and even Ceresian leadership was decided based on simple facts: Who got there first, and who was most qualified to lead once there? In Earth's case, the former answer was the Terrindians (None of whom felt comfortable with the idea of running an entire planet.), and the latter simply couldn't be easily determined out of billions of people. An election would rely largely on random chance. The risk was too great. So, with the permission of the Terrindian natives, the Neoterrans eventually decided to employ their own political system - in the form of a grand tournament - in order to seek a leader.
The tournament was a monumental success, viewed by billions and appointing the first leader of the Earth in centuries: the Pinnacle. In the 70 years since then, Pinnacles have come and gone. It's all part of the game. And in a few weeks from now, the game is going to begin again...
...Mm? "What game?"
I'm glad you asked...
---------------------------------------------
TL;DR: It's 800+ years in the future. We've colonized Luna (the Moon), Mars, Venus, Ceres (bigass rock between Mars and Jupiter), Europa (icy ocean-covered moon of Jupiter), and Titan (icy atmosphere'd moon of Saturn), and we're working on Mercury. People in space started doing more deep thinking and got better at doing shit than greedy self-serving Earth, space-people made awesome shit and gave everyone robots and then they freed the oppressed Earth people and invited them into space. But a lot of people got homesick and went back to Earth and brought their robots with them. War isn't allowed. Being a dick isn't allowed. You have a problem? Then you talk it out like a grown-up.
You still have a problem? BIG ROBOT FIGHTS.
SIGN-UP SHIT:
NAME: (What're you called?)
AGE: (How old are you? [NOTE: 29th century humans can easily live to be 171 years old])
GENDER: (Don't be an asshole here: Just because we have the technology to make you a male-born woman that crossdresses and calls itself gay and then decides to get rabbit ears DOESN'T mean you have to do it. Freak.)
ORIGIN: (Which planet are you from? I'm not sure yet whether or not this will be significant outside of a few physical characteristics.)
WAGE: (How much cash do you have? The upper limit is 9,999 'alms.' Once you hit that cap, you won't get any more cash until you spend or donate some of it. This is to keep the economy stimulated and prevent any 99%/1% scenarios from ever reoccurring.)
LICENSE: (Do you have a Tricoid? If so, what kind? See below for options.)
APPEARANCE: (What do you look like? Body modifications exist, as do prosthetics. No aliens, though.)
PERSONALITY: (What're you like? Remember, the asshole genes are more or less gone from Extraterrans, so no being an emo misanthrope or edgy-as-a-fractal anarchist. It won't work.)
CURRENT EMPLOYMENT: (What do you do? This can be a job, a hobby, or even just sitting around doing fuckall all day. Poverty is nonexistent, so why stress all the time?)
HISTORY: (What led to where/how you are today?)
RELATIONSHIPS: (Got any friends or family? Or maybe just a really smart pet?)
OTHER: (First person to say this is basically Yu-Gi-Oh! with robots and a slightly more coherent plot gets smacked in the teeth.)
ABOUT TRICOIDS:
If you're 12 or older, you can get a Trainer's License Duel Disk Tricoid, which is a highly customizable robot. Basically, it looks like a 2-meter 'core' (where the pilot sits) with a neural interface, surrounded by several tons of Tricos: tiny-but-not-quite-nano-machines that attract and interlock according to the pilot's wishes. These Tricos are bonded to the 'core' and will seek it out again if detached, broken, or ejected from the rest of the machine. The malleability of the Tricos allows them to alter the Tricoid's size, shape, and appearance to some degree, as well as form into different weapons.
If you want to have one (and why wouldn't you?), just attach a filled-out version of this to your sign-up:
NAME: (What's your Tricoid called?)
SIZE: (How big is your robot? [NOTE: The standard model has an upper limit of 200 tons due to the square-cube law being a dick.])
MODEL: (Your choices are G-class [standard model], V-class [huge ones used primarily for transport], and if you're REALLY Goddamn important, A-class [an entire city])
APPEARANCE: (What does this thing look like when at rest?)
SKILL: (Does this thing have any special techniques? Are you known for anything specific in the game circuit? Be creative! [NOTE: Don't feel restricted to just using whatever you put in here. Remember, the possibilities are limited only by what your brain can come up with.)
OTHER: (All G-class Tricoids are customizable by their very nature, but some of them are special. Maybe they belong to someone who's damn good at the game, or someone who spends way too many alms on their robot. If you're history permits it, go on ahead and request a custom G-class.)
There's a few other rules and things that'll help to know, but this shit is long enough already. I'll jot down the fine print later.