Loosing is fun: The story dump thread (Aka the R.R.Martin thread)

[sindroms]

CLICK HERE FOR THE FEEDBACK/Q&A THREAD


//OORP//

Introduction
Welcome to the ''Loosing is Fun'' project. This thread serves as a subsection for everyone's character stories. This opening post serves only to explain the general idea and posting guidelines. Again, everyone is welcome to post their stories here, be it post by post or multiple ones in one. Remember, we do have a skype chat for those who wish to collaborate on their stories, so simply PM me if you want to be added to it. Joining the ''group'' is not required for you to post in this thread!


Guidelines
The general gist behind this group is to realize and accept, that losing is fun, that your characters, however the game mechanics say otherwise, are not, in fact, immortal. There are many ways to play the part, but there are a few simple notes to keep in mind:

First of all
All characters are closed-economy characters. What does that mean? It means, once you create a character, you may not draw cash from other characters to fund it. In other words, all the credits you make in order to make progress must be made on that ship alone. Using restarts and then using the money you get from selling the CSV is allowed and encouraged.

Secondly
Loss of ship or character. This part is purely based on your preferred level of challenge. I personally like to accept the character's demise with the death of their ship. But I am sure not many would like the same, especially with potential non-RP dangers such as rule breakers, tradelane deaths as well as more rare and obscure mishaps. If you think that an instant death is too much, simply use a ''/dice 100'' command upon death and decide if your character does or does not survive the explosion, are they tractored and taken hostage, or does their escape pod make it to the closest station.

I died, now what?
Long or short, your poor character lived an interesting life. Post it. It can be a CNN sort of report about a lethal battle or accident, a simple character biography text, a black box recording, screenshots, rage comics, it does not really matter. Just show us what happened and try again. If you are using the dice to determine if your character dies or not, in the event that he survives, remember that he needs credits for a new ship. Change the ship accordingly.

Keeping tabs on statistics for fun!
Your character name, affiliation and location of the death, total ingame time, number of ships flown, total money made, number of battles, encounters, favorite brand of underpants. It can all be added in the end of your post as a little oorp bonus for the enthusiasts.






Any suggestions?

Yus.
First of all, I advise against making your character into a dedicated miner. Not only it kills the experience, it also means that you have a larger chance of losing the character very quickly. But again, it is up to you.

Petty pirates, spies, explorers, junkers, scouts or just simple civilians. All of such small ideas can be played out quite well. All you need to do is try.






Post away.

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PSA: If you have been having stutter/FPS lag on Disco where it does not run as smoothly as other games, please look at the fix here: https://discoverygc.com/forums/showthrea...pid2306502
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[Commissar]

Accessing Maltese National Database

New user detected.
Please enter name and password.
Isabel Santillian
*******

Welcome, Isabel.

No records detected.
Create new log?
...Y/N?
Y

Entry One

I can't believe he actually did it. The loco bastard actually did it. He threw me out, after everything I've done, the ungrateful-

[The log degenerated into a rapid-fire stream of curses. When Isabel recovered her speech, she was a few degrees calmer. 'Calmer,' of course, was still a long way from relaxed. Her fury was simply steaming, rather than boiling over.]

Want to know how it happened? Too bad. I'm telling you anyway. You opened this file, you can have the whole sad story for all I care. Just swing by and visit my grave when you're done. If there's any luck in this crazy universe, I might even end up back on Malta. That'd be nice. As long as it's nowhere near him.

Jonas, the man who used to be my father. I'll be ashes in the sky long before I call him that again. An insignificant overweight little maggot that likes to pretend he's worthy to be called Maltese. He's not even worthy of being called a human being. Human beings at least have the decency to act like they care about their family, instead of throwing them to the wolves in a ship that buckles in a light rain. You can tell him I said that.

Jonas is a joke, and everyone but him can see it. He likes to think of himself as one of the Great Dons.

[She laughed, a dry mocking noise that ricocheted off the hangar's bare walls.]

He's nothing. Real familias muscled him out of nearly all his plantations before I was born. Plantations he didn't have the guts to hang on to. He's been living on a single shrinking patch of land for decades now, and dragging the rest of us down with him. But I did what I could to help. I worked hard, I practically ran the plantation while he sat around playing power games with the Dons, making deals based on supplies of cardamine he knew he didn't have.

So, when the Dons come knocking, guess who has to pay the debt?

Rather than lose that damn plantation of his, or my useless brother, he signs me over to the familias. Shoves me in an old Dagger and promises that I'll pay his debts off. The damn thing doesn't even have fuel for the escape pod. It's insane. Loco.

But it's a way out.

The famalias have locked me out of Maltese space until I can pay that debt off. Fifty million credits. I've heard stories about what happens out there in house space. Warships, pirate-hunters. Spirits, help me.

I'll head for Liberty. Apparently the Rogues have some stations out there, and more importantly, a steady supply of cardamine. I've barely got enough here to last a week. I'll have to find some more before too long. I might die out there, but I will not shrivel up and fade away like an animal.

And, if I come back, Jonas is mine. I'll burn his pitiful plantation to the ground, ideally with him in it. A little warmth's more than he deserves.

If I don't make it, you've got this log. You know what happened. Make things right.

I leave tomorrow morning.

Isabel Santillian

Entry Ends

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May you live in interesting times.
| Sarah McFarlen | Jane Hartman |

[Toaster]

Geoffrey Rush' Handwritten Log



Entry #13

Dear Diary,

just kidding. Only little girls write crap like that into their notebooks, and I'm not a little girl. Though my brother used to beg to differ, back when we were kids. But that's been a while now. Anyway...

So, it's been a big day. Well, a bit more than a day, about thirty hours. I finally got out of Alberta - horrible system, if you ask me - with that load of platinum ore I picked up from under that battleship's nose. Hell, I still don't understand what the hell that was all about. Folks on Camrose wouldn't say anything about it either.

"What, a Council battleship moored here? You must be dreaming, man." That's what one of the officials there actually said. Jerk. Well, I just hope I don't run into that thing again. Scared the crap out of me once already, wouldn't want to drop my bowels involuntarily another time.

So, where was I? Oh, right, platinum ore. So, I got that stuff delivered to Waterloo Station in New London pretty fast. Only took me about six hours. Not bad, considering it took me almost twice the time to get from there to Alberta last week. Sold the ore there for a whopping two and a half million credits! Damn right, seven digits! So, with a ton of cash in my pockets, I was gonna call it a day and head to the bar when I stumbled into an Interspace official. Told me he was in charge of dealing with ships, so I thought I might take a look at the ones he had to offer.

Now, I don't really believe in love on first sight, but that Anki he showed me... I mean, I heard some good stuff about Renzu's designs, but damn! That is one good looking ship. Long story short, I spent over half my money on that ship and some new equipment.

I'll miss my Rhino though. It was a damn fine ship, but I really needed that extra cargo capacity. And with the Anki's advanced armor and armament, I can even do some slightly more risky trade runs. And the IC official assured me that they would take good care of the Rhino. Hope he's telling the truth.

So, altogether, purchasing and equipping the Anki took about another six hours. Just as I was gonna take it out for a test flight, some folk approached me. Sounded like Rheinlanders to me, so, of course, I was a bit suspicious. But hey, I don't wanna be accused of discrimination or anything, I was just a bit suspicious. After all, I'm Libertonian. Anyway, they asked me whether I was heading for Rheinland soon. I told them that I wasn't actually planning on going there, but that if they needed a ride, I could of course help out. We agreed on a pretty nice fee for me to fly them to Munich.

Hell, that was one hell of an adventure. I heard some bad stuff about the Omegas, so I was of course on edge for most of the journey, hitting thrusters as soon as anything showed up on the scanners. Those transport captains must've thought I was nuts. Not like they need to worry about getting shredded by a simple light fighter.

Well, I raced down through Omega-3 and -7, shot past some of the sights in Stuttgart, New Berlin, and Frankfurt, and ended up in Munich in under fourteen hours total flight time from New London. Dropped the Krauts off on Augsburg where I am spending a night or two myself now. Got about one and a half million credits out of it. Hell, I sure can get used to making money this fast with my new Anki.

Some vacationers from Kusari talked to me about taking them to Liberty next. Erie, to be exact. I'll probably do it. Haven't been home in a while, and I gotta show Leonard my new ship. He'll regret staying down on Erie as a lawyer instead of joining me.

---

Olivia Sable

[sindroms]

The adventures of Petig Decapo

Episode One- The dagger of Liberty
Episode Two- Friendly Freelancers


Current statistics:

Name: Petig Decapo
ID progression: Freelancer ID
Ship progression: CSV->Dagger->Saishi->Hayabusa
Ships lost: None
Total cash gained: 14 million credits
Role: Opportunist.

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PSA: If you have been having stutter/FPS lag on Disco where it does not run as smoothly as other games, please look at the fix here: https://discoverygc.com/forums/showthrea...pid2306502
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[Petitioner]

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:::Incoming Transmission:::
:::Establishing video feed:::
:::Video feed: Live:::

ID: Bobi Xiter
Location: St. George's Shelter, Ellicott County, Planet Erie, Pennsylvania

---

Grargh. Bloody fnordin' hell, I'm sick of it. Here I am, sittin' in a homeless shelter, trillions of kilometers away from home on Trafalgar, with a horrible hangover. Well, it ends today. Bobi Xiter is gonna be a rich man, you mark my words. I got one hell of a loan, an' managed to pull together a CSV. Ain't much, but she'll fly, hopefully. Whatever. Death can't be worse than this humiliation. And when I do die, whenever that is, gods let it be as an old man, everyone will read this journal and know that Bobi Xiter didn't sit around bıtching, but he did something about it. I'm leavin' for Niverton tomorrow, and getting out of this bleedin' hellhole.

---

:::Closing Transmission:::

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Recruitment | Task Force Prometheus | ICN FIRESTORM

[Exdeathevn]

Current Stats:
Character name: Marc.Serres
Time Alive: 3 hours 17 minutes
Chosen Role: An Indifferent Civilian with a debt to pay off
Ship/ID/IFF: Aurochs Freighter / Freelancer ID / None
Current Funds: 210,956
Deathmode: IRONMAN, coinflip on death decides if I delete the character or respawn. Lolwut rulebreaker kills don't count.

Video footage
Part 1 - First 30 minutes after character creation
Part 2 - Some trading
Part 3 - Some more trading and planning
Part 4 - Whoops

---

Marc Serres Pilot's Log
Entry 1

My first trip to space since finally graduating New Paris Flight school. It's not a daunting prospect, not after how much training they put us through, not after the whole minefield breaching news, not after all the foreigners appearing.

In fact, space travel sounds boring as hell. But how else will I pay off my debts? Flight school for civilians is normally reserved for people going into immediate employment; IDF Shipping, EFL, Solar Engineering, or those fools in GMS like my parents.

So, we're still in the middle of a civil war with forces calling themselves the Council. So our 'great and powerful' Royal Navy have invaded Bretonia. So crime is on the rise ever since the whole Reunion incident. It's just news to me, and until I see otherwise I honestly could care less. My parents certainly could, they lose their ore shipments, sometimes the company-owned Pachyderme transports, so often they must have a target on their backs.

Well enough of the complaints, I suppose. I did get quite a paycheck from dropping off those petrochemicals on Marseille. Guess the guys who sponsored my pilot's license weren't kidding about the possibilities. Just what sort of work do they expect me to find out here in Provence though? So far their only hints were to ship freelance cargo and contact 'em when I've gotten myself a proper freighter. Even with the cargo hold in this CSV shuttle they paid for, that's going to take time.
At least I have plenty of that.

Marc out.

---

Marc Serres Pilot's Log
Entry 2

So I've taken a shipment of cigars from Planet Marseille to Planet Mayenne with another decent profit. Seems someone was expecting me there, surprisingly. Told me to take a shipment of Oil out past the border to Tau space, some EFL outpost. After doing that, I was told to pick up a shipment of Hydrocarbons from a Kusari station in a neighboring Tau system to bring back.

Well, I did all of that, and made quite a lot of profit. Two round trips, plenty of cash, and enough to upgrade to a shinier vessel. Headed back to New Paris to speak with the ship dealer, who offered me an Aurochs Freighter; More speed, better cargo space, and stronger hull density. Could be useful for making more money with, I guess. At least the speed will be useful.

Seems my benefactors have yet to actually contact me still about the debt. Well as long as they don't try to collect too soon, I think I'll be okay. Just to be sure though I might look at making the money I need outside of Gallia, I'm not sure if they're watching my progress or anything. Question is, where to go and what to take with me... What can I sell in Rheinland I wonder?

Marc Out.

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Casual Flier: Returning Player. Forum-PM me if you require my attention

[Commissar]

Accessing Maltese National Database

Welcome back.
Please enter name and password.
Isabel Santillian
*******

Welcome, Isabel.

One record(s) detected.
Create new log?
...Y/N?
Y

Entry Two

They're not what I expected.

[Santillian crouched on her Dagger's wing, the camera swaying from its perch atop the ship's cockpit.]

Not Liberty. Liberty was exactly what I expected. Opportunistic pirates and equally brutal lawmakers. It's the Spirits that were different.

A pair of Bounty Hunters were on my tail as soon as I poked my nose out of the California field. The first one never knew what hit him. The second nearly took my wing off. I was lucky that a Rogue raiding party rocked up when it did. They were decent, for Libertonians, and agreed to show me to a base in New York. I suspect they were only in it for a share of the loot from those Hunters, but they were welcome to it. Along with the ship not being airtight, it seems that the tractor beam doesn't work either. It took me twenty minutes of kicking the thrusters around to get one of the Hunter's pods into the bay. I felt like some sort of demented interstellar hen.

The Rogues tossed me the co-ordinates for Buffalo before they headed off, leaving a trail of ship parts in their wake. And I thought my fighter was in a bad away.

Things started to get strange when I arrived in New York. It wasn't a long flight from the California jump gate to the Badlands, and the fields were all over my sensors before I could do much about it. My head started to ache, the only way I can describe it is as the feeling you'd get with an insect clawing at the inside of your skull.

Then my scanner started playing up, flagging ships in the field, but labeling them as organic. At first I thought the Rogues must have had a prison ship, but the shape was too... Solid to be remains. It was around then that I realised that I could... Hear? I suppose it's as good an analogy as any. I could hear emotions in that itching in my skull. There was fear there, and curiosity. It was like having a newborn child linked directly to your mind. The way they see things... I can't even begin to describe. It's all colour, all emotion. It's like nothing else I've ever seen or heard of. Trying to describe it would be like describing sight to the blind... How would I begin?

[Santillian shook her head, as though it would banish the memory of that first contact, probing and hesitant, like a spider creeping through her mind.]

There was a second Spirit there too, bigger and quieter. I think it was there to protect the one that I was communicating with, although it's hard to say where communication ends and existence begins with them. Who knows what they do intentionally and what just happens because they're there? I think I must have grown used to the headache by that point, because I can't remember noticing it.

We 'talked' for a while. The one I talked to seemed to find my ship amusing. He -I'm not sure why. He just felt like a he.- thought it was strange that we flew around in ships that were just dead material and metal. It must seem weird to them, when they can fly just as they are. Perhaps that's how the Maltese look to the rest of Sirius, with our re-breathers and our masks. I'm glad to be rid of those.

I agreed to show the Spirit Buffalo Base, I thought he would find it interesting, considering his focus on my ship. The Rogues didn't take the same view and opened up on him as soon as he was in range.

And I defended him.

Spirits, I don't know why. I've been wondering what possessed me to engage a Rogue gunboat all the way back to Malta. I couldn't dodge something like that, its opening barrage tore through my shields like they were cardboard. I was certain I was going to die. My life didn't flash before my eyes, I didn't get the soft music playing in the background, nothing like that. There was just a turret and the certainty that I would take my last breath in some freezing asteroid field at the back end of nowhere.

Then the second Spirit was there. It cut down the gunboat like the harvest falling to a scythe. I've never seen anything like it before, the power of that creature... It ripped apart an armored gunboat like it was a toy. It was twenty minutes before my hands stop shaking. I cruised after the spirits in a daze, muttering some sort of apology. I'll spare you the details. It was disgusting, really. I'm disgusted with myself.

It wasn't long before our presence drew the attention of Liberty's Navy, but a Navy fighter wasn't the only thing waiting at the Pennsylvania gate. A Spirit, bigger then any I'd ever heard of hovered by the gate. I could feel it, as soon as it jumped in. I think everyone in the Badlands felt it. I managed to salvage a shot from my guncam, one of the few parts of this heap that seems to work without me having to hit it.

With the arrival of the larger Spirit, the Navy backed off. The first Spirit seemed to have forgiven me for the Rogue attack and had been asking questions about the Maltese. It's strange how something so alien can be so... Childish. After what I'd done to him, I couldn't leave him in Liberty while the Navy gathered ships.

So, I turned for home. Even Jonas can't touch me if I'm working under the direction of a spirit. Besides, I feel like I really do want to understand them. No-one I know has ever seen one, and I saw three. Maybe there's some sort of reason for that.

We kept clear of the trade routes, and the journey back to Malta was silent, although that itch in my skull reappeared. It only seems to show up when I'm talking to the smallest Spirit. He left once we arrived in Alpha, although I've got a feeling he hasn't gone far.

No-one else knows I'm back yet. I think I'll keep it that way. There's enough traffic coming through to cover my arrival for around a week, so I just need to find a way out of this debt by then.

In the meantime, maybe the Oracles will have some answers.

Isabel Santillian

Entry Ends

Name: Isabel Santillian
ID Progression: Outcast ID
Ship Progression: Dagger*
Ships lost: None
Current Cash: 6, 000 Credits
Role: (Self Appointed) Nomad Guardian
Mode: Ironman (Dead is Dead - At least until she can get a ship with a functioning escape pod.)

*Cheated a little here and went out and purchased a Dagger before I officially started Santillian. Say what you will, but Outcasts don't fly CSVs.

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May you live in interesting times.
| Sarah McFarlen | Jane Hartman |

[Strichev]

_______________________________________________________________________

Name and surname: Andrew Wheatfield
Place of origin: Planet Los Angeles

ID: /
IFF: /
CURRENT SHIP: /
SHIPS LOST: /

FINANCIAL STATUS: enough to buy clothing, few crates of beer and perhaps a bycycle

ROLE: /
MODE: ironman to the max
_______________________________________________________________________

The story
Current location
_______________________________________________________________________

A short note. I've heard that's what most space-faring people write.

***

I'm not going to end up like most of those oldies, rotting planetside. Education doesn't help much, they're all still living their boring lives, constantly meddling with things not even worth mentioning. A threadbare existence is not for me...

To seek fortune amongst the stars is all nice, but without a ship I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not going to steal one either. What to do, what do to...perhaps I'll get lucky and find someone dumb enough to loan me some credits or a ship. Until then...I'm stuck here. At least noone knows me in this bar I've discovered. Pilot's Flask. It should be renamed to Junkies' Hole or something.

***