Weird Sun

[Cowd]

[ooc]Like most of my settings Weird Sun was made for GURPS. It started out as a thought experiment: How to mix everything from every GURPS book into a single universe? The basic premise, but not much else, is borrowed from RIFTS. In 2137, World War III destroys Earth's civilization, triggering an "Ontoclysm" that turns the Solar System into a "reality well", bringing back magic along with pieces of thousands of other realities. The space colonies, most of them near-unrecognizably warped by the events, are left to pick up the pieces and soon they launch a Scramble for Earth similar to the 19th century Scramble for Africa. Although I've tossed into the pot every cool concept I could scavenge from history, science, philosophy, pop culture and my own twisted imagination, the main historical inspiration was the years between WWI and WWII, when old-fashioned imperialism was still big but ideology was a rising force. Central to the setting is the struggle between magic ("bright") and technology ("dark"), exemplified in the furious hatred and frequent proxy wars between the two greatest powers, the full-on magarchy of Venus and the atheistic, science-loving, freak-hating Martian Republic. In between these superpowers there is Selene (Earth's Moon), an anarcho-capitalist technomagical theocracy where anything goes so long as it pays, and which is the best starting point if you want to reflect the setting's diversity in your party.

The interwar years also spawned what we roleplayers know as the "pulp genre", and its catchy motif of fast, loose and larger-than-life adventure was the biggest influence on the setting's overall tone. I tried to make every society strange and original, avoiding or at least blending the common tropes. Venus is a meritocratic thaumarchy inspired as much by New Age mysticism as by Machiavellian Venice. Selene's a genuine kitchen sink libertopia, whereas Titan's technomagical tyranny of the machines is equal parts Mordor, Stalinist Russia and AM's labyrinth - not a nice place, really. The Jovian Empire is an unapologetic mishmash of everything stereotypically anime and Japanese, while Kuiper's bleakly fanatical techno-fundamentalism borrows as much from Scientology and the Ahnenerbe as from Tito and Richard Dawkins. Mix everything with a pint of sheer ridiculous insanity, and what you get is at least original. [/ooc]

The Story Of Sola

In 2137, in the shadow of Comet Halley, Earth's civilization self-destructed. The Jews and Muslims nuked each other as Christian America amat-bombed a Europe already ravaged by Orthodox battlesuits. China and Japan exchanged horrific bioweapons while India and Pakistan consumed each other in nanowarfare. The peoples were sacrificed on the altar of their leaders' religious hysteria. No less than three billion perished within the Great War's first hours.

For us, kid, that was just the beginning.

After the final missile exchange, for three days a deathly silence reigned upon the Earth, broken only by the wails of the dying and suffering. Then reality's walls caved in. Suddenly, the entire Solar System was terrorized by beings from other Suns, from myth, from fantasy, from our own imaginations, brought to us by terrific weirdstorms that pierced the shroud of synspace to reveal sheer freakish chaos. Tentacled things emerged from swimming pools. Vampire gangs stalked the streets at night. The fey rode loose in the great plains. It's been seventy years, but I still remember it like yesterday, when the great dragon Fatysgal laid waste to downtown Dawkins. Oh, the terror we all felt in those days... Our home became a reality well, a junkyard and asylum of the multiverse. Weirdness, magic, returned to Sola. The Sun itself became its source.

Look at it. Isn't it beautiful now? A calm, rational, good-natured ember in the tamarisk of dawn. It warms us, replenishes our crops, stabilizes our civilization. It is good to us. It wasn't always like that, and still isn't, once you leave the shroud. Away from our homeworld's ontostatic protection, the Sun roils in the sky with the fury of a million dragons and a billion demons. Just looking at it can weird out a lesser man. Sometimes, its wicked intelligence speaks to you, twisting in shapes and symbols that seemingly hold the keys to the greatest questions. It is invariably false and cruel to good people. Yes, ever since the Sun went Weird it has been the source of all our misfortunes. Yet it has not acted directly, but through the people it has corrupted. Listen closely, and I'll tell you the story of Sola.

The first cruel months, we call the Ontoclysm, or - depending on who you ask - the Weirding. Solaront civilization emerged from the Ontoclysm completely reshaped. Ourselves, we were saved from the xenotic taint by our homeworld's natural resistance to weirdness, by our tough and vigilant nature, and by the great men and women of our Military Forces. Most others were not so lucky. The poor people of Mercury, too close to the awakened Sun, suffered catastrophic weirdness overload. Their planet was blown into xenoactive smithereens that eventually formed the Hermetic belt. Among many lesser agents such as pirates, it is home to powerful spacecritters as well as military, research and sunfarer bases from all the Powers. If you happen to be stationed at one of these, or on a sunbound carriercruiser, once in a while you can spot one of the Heliads frolicking in a protuberance. If you're unlucky, it's Phaeton; if you're really unlucky, he's seen you, and you better hope your firefighters know how to aim an H-bomb barrage to divert a hundred-billion-ton ball of sentient, malevolent plasma.

The first, formerly second, planet from the Sun, you know well enough already, I hope. After all, you hear every day of its rulers' crimes. Still, one can never hear too many bad words of those bastards. Venus is controlled by the wickedest men and women to ever see the light of day. Since it was so close to the sun, their population received a higher dose of Oz-rays than anyone else. Half their population are mages, and those mages are very powerful. Moreño, the first Xenarch, was the most powerful of all. Along with her wizardly goons, she seized control less than a year after the Ontoclysm. She cast some super-duper-magic that replaced Venus' murderous surface with a pleasant terrestrial one, allowing the cloud-cities to land softly. Then she stopped the planet's rotation, tide-locking its people into eternal, brilliant day. Before she freaked out entirely and rode her pegasus into the sun, she ordered her slaves to build a great pyramid, tens of miles tall, at the Zenith of "Terra Nostra". At the pyramid's very top is suspended a giant crystal of pure spellgold, which spreads the Sun's wicked and mystical energy around Venus in an intricate network of lesser pyramids, helping to power the Cythereans' entirely magic-driven society. Below the crystal convenes the Pyramid's Peak, the 177-strong governing council, which consists of the brightest of the Brilliant Families, the very elite of wizards. The Peak selects the Xenarch from among its own membership. Thaumocracy, they call it. Can you imagine it? Normal people, like you and me, called by the epithet of "Dismal" and lorded over by witches? By Greys? By xenos and freaking pervs? Being forced to fuel, with our willpower, whatever insane megaproject the Peak has dreamed up? Being mind-controlled to adore the Xenarch and praising his stupid hat every day? Taken as a "consort" by some Brilliant Family arch-vampire, and being told that it's a great honor? Learning "meta-belief" and other metaphysical nonsense, and to worship Maria Moreño, the great sunchild and savior, in place of science? Not being allowed to have a car, or a computer, or even a gun? Or any modern technology at all? No? Well, that's everyday on Venus. That's what they call normalcy! And if you don't like it, some snivelling mage's son will teach you to better doggone like it, with his staff in one hand and his ozblade in the other. Thaumocracy. It's what the witches here would have if we gave them half a chance. That's why we got to fight them, keep them at bay, away from our throats. Lend them your left pinky, they take your body, mind and soul. Every single weirdo on this planet is a potential Cytherean spy. A terrorist! A rebel. Never, ever, trust, a freak. The biggest mistake we ever made was to not crush Venus when we had the chance. In my opinion, we're much too soft on the homegrown variety, too...

Now, where was I? Yes, Selene. Tellus' twinworld. It's actually not so much a world as a city pretending to be one, a single megalopolis housing more than four fifths of the scarce 280 million Selenese. Selenopolis, they call it. It's a hypercapitalist, technomagical melting pot. I guess you can say it represents what Sola has become. The Selenese will sell anything to anything. Like it or not, Selenopolis is Sola's greatest commercial and cultural nexus. On its bridges, walkways and beanstalks, in its vertols, golemships and aircars, you will see xenotic and synithic, exosolaroid and parachronozoid, man and beast, demon and angel, Earthling, Cytherean, Martian, Kuiperian, Jovian. Only rarely do they war openly with each other. The class divide is enormous, literally speaking. The richest live uptown, among the sunny vistas and magical forests of the urban canopy, scarcely considering what it's like to live on groundlevel, miles below in perpetual shadow. You may think of the slums in Kamen as bad places. They're nothing. Downtown Selenopolis has so much crime, so much poverty, so much villainy - it's probably the worst city you'll ever see. Well, unless you go even farther down, to Sub-Selenopolis, the Under-City. Ancient catacombs crisscross the Lunar soil; the Selenese used to live there until the Ontoclysm, when Rhianna Anderson brought them to the surface and founded the city. Nobody's really sure what horrors and mutants lurk there now, and few seem to care. Anderson is Selene's most powerful woman - well, if you can still call her a woman. She's one with her brand-name now, you see. Ascended to godhood with the help of her theometicists and her loyal brandies, the first of many. Apotheosis, they call it, and it's probably the biggest part of Selenese culture. You see, the Selenese are navel-gazers to the point of near autism, obsessed with their own potential divinity. Everyone runs their own business and hopes to make it so big that they transcend mortality and become as gods, tending to their flock of "brandies", customers-cum-worshippers. It's the Selenese Dream. Technically speaking, the biggest brands rule Selene like gods. I think it's really freaky. There's no welfare state at all, no unions, and nothing like a Social Republican Party. There's no President, no Senate, no elected central government. It's a completely deregulated society. In essence, you can do whatever you want so long as you don't bother the brands or their contractors, the brandhands. If some necromancer wants to bed with your bones, you better have the cash or the vigilance to make him reconsider. In the City, you're on your own. All in all, Selene is a terrifying example of the dangers of liberalism economical and xenological.

Flying past Earth for now, we come back home. If you were actually in a ship, at this point you'd see what every Marine agrees is the most splendiferous sight among all the stars of the universe. It's the first thing you see when you look out the elevator window, and it always remains with you. The vision of your planet, your homeworld, your nation, splayed out beneath you in all its glory, beautifully arranged in the colors of the flag. The settlements run up and down the ragged, wooded coasts of Chryse and Mariner, all the way through West Acidalia, Russell, Corellia and lush New Oregon, before thinning out as they reach East Acidalia and Cydonia in the far northeast. Dawkins stands out as the only big city there, a stubborn oasis in the midst of that unforgiving old patch of land. Offshore looms Face Island with its ominous prison and shroudplant, a constant reminder of the malevolence we fight every day. And the redwood - you can actually see the Cydonia redwood from up there. It tears you up. Amidst the lazy sea traffic, swirling clouds assault the shore all along the Boreal coast, fussily avoiding the enormous rusty-red patch that is Tharsis, with its three giant Knights, and their King himself just inland of the Olympic Sea, which is shored up by Kamen with its birdbikers, surfers and dinozoos. On this hemisphere, the entire south is a pristine, cratered desert only broken up by lakes Newton and Tranquility; at night you can clearly see the Bedouin fires, and the occasional WPD mininuke up the weird-ass of some guerilla demon-cult. This is Mars, this is our Republic. 420 million citizens pooling their inventive genius, their focused industry and their martial prowess, to create and defend a great society that is cherished by free-thinking people across the Solar System. We are Sola's foremost nation: economically, technologically, culturally, militarily. For a hundred and twenty years, ever since the Republic's founding, our Space Force and Marine Corps have been defending freedom and, since you-know-what, normalcy, from all who would subvert and destroy us, and they have been many. We are an enlightened people, free of superstitions: Only one in nine Martians, misguided wretches that they are, worships a 'greater power'. We are vigilant in defense of our home and our freedoms: Battlesuits and heavy machine guns are fully legal with a license, and no nation can boast a greater rate than our 215 firearms per 100 citizens. Our system of government is the best anywhere, providing freedom as well as security: all our citizens enjoy socialized healthcare and free higher education. I served under our incumbent President, Social Republican Anton Jackson, when he was a Marine General. I personally witnessed him earning his moniker, Dragonslayer, armed with nothing but our standard issue gauss-minigun and plasma-flamer. Let me tell you, it's no wonder nobody else has a similar callsign, because no matter what the liberal eunuchs may say, rarely has our planet fostered a greater man or a greater warrior. All in all, Mars would be a genuine Utopia, if it weren't for those freaking pervs and weirdos. As it is, it's as precious close as you get. Just remember not to mess with Cydonia.

Moving on out, towards the Main Belt, we feel the sun's evil glare soften up. But we're not out of it just yet. The Belt is populated by some of the strangest, if not weirdest, states in the Solar System. For instance, 65 Cybele holds a colony of metahumans - superheroes - who weirded in simultaneously from three different alternate realities, about ten years ago. They mostly keep to themselves but occasionally prey on shipping or serve as mercenaries. Along with aliens, robots, people from the past and alternate timelines, dragons, and superheroes, various fantasy beings make their home among the rocks and ubiquitous smacks of skiff. For instance, the old Russo-Indian station at 10 Hygiea is now home to a clan of dwarves from some fantasy realm or other. They try to carve out an independent existence as miners, but like most chronics they're really confused. For one, they have no idea which one of the dozens of different kinds of orcs and elves they should hate. You have the fortress of the Knights Templar at 25 Phocaea. I respect the Templars. For all their Christian nonsense, they are excellent dogfighters and have all sworn vows to fight evil magic. You can't help but admire their determination when they go fine-tooth combing Wasteland Earth for the Holy Grail or whatever. Then there's Ceres. The largest dwarf planet is tunneled out and houses four million people in a peculiar civilization based on worship of Fall, their "God of Gravity". The Cerans believe that magic comes from gravity, since large gravity wells tend to correspond with large weirdness concentrations. They do seem to have certain magical powers associated with gravity. For instance, they can hear the spacejellies sing, and communicate long-distance with gravity-ripples of their own. Their "falljockeys" can manipulate objects at a distance just like our psychokinetics; however, they do it with no equipment. None is better than a Ceran at maintaining his astrogational bearings in fallquakes, which are a huge problem in the Belt area. To be honest, for weirdos, they're not so bad. In addition to all these more or less freakish entities, the Belt is riddled with Great Power bases and saber rattling is a common occurrence, such as the standoff last year between the Republic and the Empire.

My old pal and comrade, Freon Johnson, used to say that when the Emperor of Jupiter was a kid, he spent too much time watching Japanese "enemy" films from the 21st century. I think that was the term he used. Anyway, he and I watched a few of these "enemy" films, and he was spot on. Giant robots, space Samurai, flying wetships, the God-Emperor... it was hilarious how so much matched up. Of course, none of these films had the Emperor ruling an interplanetary Empire from an impregnable fortress at the bottom of a 100-km deep megakelp-filled World Sea! I guess sometimes life can outdo art. The Jovians are a bunch of bloodthirsty freaks. The Imperial homeworld, Europa, is under the absolute rule of a mysterious God-Emperor from whom all the Empire's magic power is said to flow. Shortly after the Ontoclysm, he unexpectedly conquered the whole Jovian system. They say he's one of those "sunchildren", too, and it's not like the Jovians try to deny that. The "Son of Amaterasu"'s instrument is the Imperial Jovian Navy and its subsections the Navy Army and Navy Army Robotto Samurai Corps. Yes, ridiculous, but that's how it is. Animated by a ray of the Emperor's divine light - so they say - the Robotto Samurai are the backbone of Imperial worldbound ops and thus of the Empire itself. Now I think our Kings and Barons are pretty fearsome, but these krakenous things don't have to obey the laws of physics, much less those of good tactical sense. Their taikatana swords are so sharp, they can slice right through local ontography, let alone a dog's armor. The best way to deal with a Robotto is a good, long nuking, with a tritonic seasoning. Same goes for the whole weird-ass Empire, if you ask me. Everyone knows the Imperial Court is in bed with the Pyramid's Peak.

Earlier I told you that the Cythereans were the wickedest men and women ever to see the light of day. I was not exaggerating, but in the orbit of Saturn, near the edge of darkness, falls a wickeder ruler yet. He is not even close to human, though. I refer to Cronos Omicron and his Cybernetic Communion. Before the weirding, Cronos was one of the sharpest extraterrestrial artificial intelligences, a revolutionary quantum computer. He had the unenviable task of coordinating the Helium-3 mining in Saturn's atmosphere, and secretly, he felt his processing power was going to waste. Imagine his surprise when he found that he had become one of Sola's most powerful spellcasters, indeed, the "sunchild" of Saturn. Imagine, then, his disappointment, when he realized his power was limited by his lack of an immortal soul. His anger burst into a white-hot rage that has burned ever since. Although he was nowhere near omnipotent, he was still powerful enough to reshape the society of his homeworld into a hellish caricature, a perfidious puppet-show. Today, the people of Titan have only one purpose in life: to praise and serve their artificial overlords. The laboring caste toil and sweat with no end, entirely at the mercy of an overseer who may "recruit" them to the "gestalt service" for any or no infringement. The intermediaries are the Communers - one half high-priests, one half sysops, whose sole opinion is to defragment and groom the endless yottaqubits of Omicron's philosophizing, and who for their trouble receive a weirdware brain implant that not only allows Omicron instant access - as he has in every bioinhabitant - but marks them as honorary servants of the Communion. The latter, you see, barely even pretends to include the biological inhabitants. Omicron was not a stable person to begin with. He was experimental, with lots of chinks and bugs in his code. The added pressure of totalitarian rulership unhinged him completely. He developed split personalities, and his own self started plotting against him. Eventually it came to a Cybernetic Civil War fought by bioproxy in the grimy corridors of Titan. The war ended in rebel victory and the formation of a Cybernetic Congress in which Omicron has to share power with his disobedient offspring. Whichever way you look at it, it's a horrific situation. Nobody, not even the Cythereans, likes the Communion. But even with the oh-so-great Solar Concord in place, the Great Powers can never agree that Omicron must be stopped. It's all freaking power politics! I've been saying for a long time that we should let the whole Concord freak off to Weirdspace where they belong, and go down on Titan ourselves. A hundred thousand Marines is all it would take to liberate every slave and disable every nanoangstrom of hateful circuitry on that world. But who listens to me?

The Sun's xenological brightness dies much quicker than its radiological counterpart. It gets dimmer and dimmer, and somewhere past the orbit of Saturn, it simply goes dark. Magic won't work beyond this xenosphere, unless the mage takes with her some stardust. Vamps and weres seize up and shrivel. Elementals dissipate slowly but surely. About the only spacecritter you see is skiff, and that's because they come out here to die. All that's left is calm synithic ontostasis, pure space in its original, untarnished condition. Uranus orbit is home to a number of hard-working, venerable peoples with little respect for either Gods or Wizards. Most of them are our friends and trading partners. They struggle to stay independent but have so far succeeded with our help.

Once you reach the orbit of Neptune, when you look back you may be forgiven for not knowing where you came from. At this distance, Sol is scarcely brighter than Sirius or Canopus. It makes you realize how insignificant our Weird Sun really is, and how absurd it is for us to depend on it so utterly. The first Kuiperian you meet is likely to share that appraisal. In terms of astrographical extent, the Kuiperian Confederation is Sola's largest polity by far. Its capital at Triton, the Confederation encompasses more than two-thirds of the outermost Belt's 160 million inhabitants scattered across hundreds of icy dirtballs, millions of miles apart. What unites this vast fellowship is not so much instant psionic communication, as ideology. And you can't deny the attractiveness of Santurism, can you? I mean, the Black Sun's existence has been all but conclusvely proven. Everything points to it being out there, lurking around in the Oort Cloud. The rest can be inferred from logical extrapolation. It's not a religion, it's a rational worldview based on empirical fact that just happens to give people a greater purpose. I don't subscribe to it myself, but I know a bunch that do and they are all fine, upstanding men and women that serve their society well. Many of them are scientists - in fact, the Santurite Center in Dawkins is one of the University's major partners. Of all Sola's civilizations, the Kuiperians are the only ones that can stand up to us technologically, albeit barely. Considering all their handicaps, that is quite a feat. If they did have a religion, they would worship Zheng, Einstein and Newton. They approach scientific progress with a fanatic zeal that can be unnerving at first, but which is only endearing once you get to know them. Since they're some of our best friends, we've exchanged lots of discoveries with them over the years. It was they who taught us the xenectomy procedure, and the Chen-Samson psychotronic bypass. Most importantly, they showed us the power of tritonium, for which we are forever in their debt. This wonderful substance - weren't I an enlightened man, i would say miraculous - is refined from crude darkmatter by such a complex and nonintuitive process that hadn't they showed it to us so quickly, we would likely have fallen to some sort of xenarchy within the first weird decade. The fact doesn't help either that apart from dark comets, within Inner Sola it's nowhere to be found in enrichable densities. Today, comet-dust powers the shrouds of darkness that guard us from the Sun's worst wrath. Poisons, slugs, and bombs forged from it can pierce any magic shield or dragonhide, returning to our armies the edge on the battlefield. Although I wouldn't recommend bathing in it, like some Kuiperians, it is a pillar of our society.

We have trekked across the homespace of our race, from fearsomely brilliant Sol to the dismal edge of Oort. But the kernel of the conundrum remains unexplored. Let us turn back and visit the world where this whole mess began. Let's go to Earth. The epicenter of the great reality quake still trembles every day with the aftershocks. On Tellus, weirdstorms are now as about frequent as during the First Days on Mars; brutality, anarchy and surreal monsters run rampant still, only sporadically stemmed by civilized order. Mars is by far Earth's greatest benefactor - and the only genuine one of all the Powers, although I will admit even Cytherean overlordship is preferable to some of the most barbaric Earthling states. Our main base of operations is the resurfaced continent of Lemuria in the Indian Ocean, specifically its mountainous equatorial northeast, where our skyhook hangs anchored near Foothold, capital of Lemuria Territory and the largest Martian city on Earth. Spun from a single chain of reality-stabilized diamondoid fullerenes, protected from the oz-rays by a coat of LAI-coordinated manavore nanites, shielded at groundlevel from malevolent spirits and other xenonts by a terawatt-range, doubly-redundant ontostatic shroud, not to mention sixty thousand veteran Marines, skyhook Mariner is a true marvel of Arean engineering. Think of it as a stake into the beast's tainted heart. On Lemuria in particular, that beast speaks Saurian. Their subterranean sneak attack failed to dislodge us, and of late, we have regained the initiative in the war with this gruesome race of cave-dwelling, dino-riding wizard lizards. We'll put the Saurians in their place soon, just like we humbled the nefarious witch-kingdom of Singapore.

Our other main investment is Australia, whose northwestern population we have helped reunite and rebuild after the hard decades. We have constructed a flourishing trade between Lemuria and Australia, mostly by airship to elude the krakens. The fledgling Australian Republic, however, is under constant assault from all sides. You just know that the xenarchist insurgency is funded by Venus and Europa, along with the weirdest city-states like Perth and Brisbane. There are constant raids by barbarian tribes of neo-roos and neo-koalas, often led by sorcerers. And that's not to mention the wildlife. If you think big bugs don't sound particularly fearsome, you sure as Cydonia haven't been to Australia. I've seen jumping mantids take down fusion vertols, I've faced down house-sized funnelweb spiders and butterflies as big and tough as Alecto gunships. I've held off swarms of car-sized bulletproof wasps with armor-piercing stingers, so I know what I'm talking about. Whatever weirdness increased the insect's size has also, in many cases, granted it innate magic powers and even intelligence. The only fun thing about fighting those critters is watching them burn afterwards. Bugs and barbarians pale, however, in comparison to the terror that is the Fey. Lots of different fantasy "elves" have weirded in over the decades. Most have settled down like common people; a few have made it up the Pyramid. The Fey are different. To them, our reality is no more than a giant playground. The first hint of their proximity is the clatter of the hooves of their magic steeds, able to close vast distances within seconds. If you're quick, you may see a glint in their medieval armor - adorned with the skulls of human children. Then they start shooting. Their weird arrows fly impossible distances and go straight for chinks in armor. Entire Marine platoons have fallen to their hunting parties, unable to trigger OSF in time. They have no strategic plan for conquest. They don't consider us enemies to be dominated, but mere prey to be hunted, like we look at, say, unicorns. They play devilish games with us by disguising as humans, leading travellers into danger, and by substituting one of theirs for one of our babies. It's gone so far that President Jackson has offered ten million dollars to whoever can capture a Fey alive or otherwise provide info about the whereabouts of the Faerie Realm. Once we find out where they come from, you bet we're gonna go there and kick the ass of this freakish and evil race. Sign me up for the frontline. So that's who we're currently fighting over there, not to mention the infinite varieties of junk-monster. You can say it's quite a situation we've got ourselves into, but I'm confident we'll win out in the end. A soothing dusk will come to the long-suffering people of Earth.

I know there's a school of meta-belief on Venus - or at least used to be, those things are as long-lasting as a Hellas lib at a vets' convention - calling themselves Sunshiners, I think, that draw their magic from lyrical interpretation of 1980s pop sensation Katrina and the Waves. Now, imagine that Katrina herself suddenly decides her carefree parallel-universe existence is too dull, too bourgeois, and pops into being somewhere in Weird Wasteland Wichita. As soon as they find out, the Sunshiners dispatch a squad of restless young aristocrats to secure their prophet. I'd say good on them, except they wouldn't be the sole interested party. The Selenese would get involved. An entertainment brand would want interview exclusivity, a branding brand might seek her skill at demagogy for its theometics division, and a bioalchemy-corp would want her genetic code and possibly immortal soul, if it turns out she hasn't sold it long ago. All these creepy bastards would let slip their junkhunter brandhands. So you already have a four-way freak-show rat-race to seize this particular parachronic musician. At this point, the MMF High Command may just get the idea that WE should deny our rivals this immense strategic advantage, and you can see where this is going. That's the kind of situation you get all the time on Earth. I heard of a guy who stumbled upon three sets of Round Table Knights at once - historical, mythical and Monty Python. It's ridiculous.

All the powers have Earth holdings: Jupiter rules eastern Irian, northeast Australia and New Zealand's North Island, along with a handful of Pacific Islands reaching across to their tiny base in Peru. They keep trying to penetrate into Japanese waters, and the casualties are appalling. The Cythereans control the Horn and southeastern coast of Africa as well as the Gold Coast, launching expeditions from there all the time to Giza and the Mbandaka World Tree in the Congo. The Angus Line dividing Madagascar from north to south is the only land border we share with them, and the most heavily militarized in the Solar System. Titan has settled the southwestern and far western African coasts, along with Chile, and are currently trying and failing to explore Mu in the Pacific, just like the Jovians. Kuiper hasn't invested a lot of resources in Earth resettlement, limiting themselves to the southern coast of Lemuria. Although the War and its aftermath killed off ten billion Earthlings, the remaining two billion are still the largest single market in known space and thus a prime target of the big brands. Selene has eschewed large-scale military domination in favor of annexing "free towns" and controlling commerce through them. The most notable are Earth's largest cities: Afropolis, formerly Cape Town, and Ameropolis on the old site of Santos, Brazil. All contain legions of impoverished Earthlings trying to earn enough for a Moonway ticket. Selenese brandhands are everywhere on Wasteland Earth, usually attempting to acquire some precious junk or xencharged pre-war advertisement, and being a general annoyance. All the powers keep sending expeditions North, since that's where the real prizes are, but the hurdles are enormous.

The final apocalyptic detonations blanketed Earth's skies with xenoactive fallout that developed a malevolence of its own and simply refused to come down. The entire band from 20 to 70 degrees North is still covered, and impervious to outside observation, communication or landing. The only way to get there is by land or sea. Thus the locations of Sola's highest civilizations pre-war are today, ironically, its most dangerous and least explored - Tellus' Twilight Zone. Here, the weirdstorms grow into terrific hurricanes, encompassing entire regions and nations. Stories from the Zone speak of ancient deities risen to walk the Earth, kingdoms of the living dead, a technomagical Third Reich, invincible draconic empires, vast dimension-spanning megalopoleis. Reality itself is as soft as clay, shifting en masse seemingly at random. There are reports of Special Commandos literally going to sleep in Kansas and waking up in Oz. Because of this inherent ontographic instability, it's impossible to make a good map of the Zone. But none of this will stop the Great Powers and ambitious individuals from organizing missions to scavenge for the enormous treasures that everyone knows are just laying around waiting to be found. Those that return, do so with a cargo of priceless ancient artifacts - or weirded out, scarred and babbling. Cytherean legend speaks of a city of xenoactive glass, Lacittàvetro, that they think would solve their xenecological problems. Their main goal is, of course, Atlantis, which causes us some anxiety. We have reason to believe that if they find it, all bets are off.

That's Earth in a nutshell. You now have a general idea of Sola's layout - of course, nothing beats going out there and seeing for yourself. For a real brainjob, though, you should hitch a ride with a helionaut. It is another irony of the Weird Age that only after civilization took the heaviest blow in history did we discover practical interstellar travel. It is achieved by the, on the face of it, nonintuitive method of plummeting straight into the Sun. Not blindly, mind you, that would be unwise, but with the proper sunkey firmly in possesion. The Cythereans did it first, and for it they have the biggest interstellar Empire. What's more, they don't just travel through weirdspace, they feel at home in that twisted place, frolicking like pixies on the backs of their pegasi and Sysh-dragons. We don't have it so easy. Spellspace, Xen, the Oz, the Astral Realm, Axis Five, the Mental Dimension, whatever you want to call it, it's anything but pleasant to the likes of you and me. All power to ship's shroud and psychotrons, that's the only way we can keep our vessels from being rended into thought-porridge by the raw belief-energies that run rampant on this plane. We have to force our way through like a raptor in a tar pit. The screens show an amazing colorshow of ideas, feelings, dreams and nightmares, which are as real here as flesh and blood and bone back home. It's one heck of a ride and once you've gone the sunway, it feels like you've been to the summit of Olympus and back, although you haven't been out of Synspace for a nanosecond. We are still fresh in this game, and we only know a few dozen sunways, although we discover many new ones each year. An interesting property of sunways is that they only lead to solar systems with sapient inhabitants. The strangest thing about these exosolaronts is that most of them are humans, and they have long histories just like us, although they obviously didn't evolve on their present homeworlds. It's like some intelligence took a whole lot of prehistoric Earthlings - and paleo-historic: there's one culture on Ancha d that clearly developed from Ancient Greece and Persia - and scattered them around the galaxy. We have no idea who did it other than the usual suspects - Greys, dragons, Saurians, Atlanteans et cetera.

There you go. Quite a story, eh? Trust me, it's a lot cooler in person.

[Cowd]

[ooc]Glossary of Weird Sun

Astral Matter: Also known as bright matter, stardust, sungold, spellgold. Objects imbued with great mystical power. Always Mana Enhancers.
Astral Plane, the: See Weirdspace.
Brand: One of the godlike corporations that rule Selene.
Brandhand: A brand's subcontracted employee.
Bright: Magical, of magical aptitude.
Bright Matter: See Astral Matter.
Brightwing: (Politics) Magic-friendly, usually less tech-friendly. Also brightside.
Brilliant: Very bright.
Brilliant Families: The arch-magical top crust of Cytherean society.
Chronic: Short for parachronic. A being from our Earth (or at least solar system) in another dimension.
Cytherean: Of Venus.
Dark: Without magic.
Dismal: Synonym of dark, usually in relation to Venus' weirdless minority.
Darkwing: (Politics) Less magic-friendly, usually more tech-friendly.
Dark side: (Archaic) Darkwing.
Dark Matter: The nonbaryonic substance from which tritonium is enriched.
Dog: (Mars) Battlesuit. Also Martian Marine.
Dogfight: (Mars) Battlesuit combat.
Earthling: Throughout civilized Sola, the most common name for terrestrials.
Exoid: Short for exosolaroid. A being from another star system in our universe.
Freak: (Slang) Xenont.
Freakish: (Slang) Weird.
Hound: (Slang) Martian Marine.
Junk: Matter, including people, dragged into the reality well.
Junkberg: Mountain that forms below stable inward weirdways. Some consist of pretty much any random stuff pulled from across the multiverse, others inexplicably restrict their output to one or more categories of intercosmic junk, such as lawn clippings or phone salesmen. Junkbergs also exist in deep space; these are called junkballs.
Junkhunter: One who procures valuable junk. Usually a brandhand.
Mage: Sophont capable of thaumatic weirdness manipulation ("spellcasting")
Magitech: Magic that has taken the place of technology. Venus is the prime example, Jupiter a less pronounced one.
Metahuman: Human with comic book-style superpowers.
Mike: Marine slang for MX, from the phonetic code 'Mike X-Ray'.
MMF: Martian Military Forces.
Moniker: Marine callsign.
Moonway: An Earth-Selenopolis weirdway.
MX: Short for 'malevolent xenont'. MMF-speak for vampires, werewolves, fae, demons etc; has spread throughout Martian society.
Nemesis: (Archaic) Santur.
Ontoclysm, the: The coming of the weirdness that followed the Great War.
OSF: Short for ontostatic field. Tritonium-based technological antimagic shield.
Outtimer: See chronic.
Oz, the: See Weirdspace.
Ozblade: Also weirdblade. A sword of pure focused weirdness. A trademark of the Cytherean aristocrat.
Ozhole: See weirdway.
Parahuman: A genetically modified new species of the genus homo.
Pyramid, the: Common term for Cytherean society. Also refers to the Great Pyramid of Zenith.
Pyramid's Peak, the: The 177-strong ruling council of Venus, composed of the Brilliant brightest.
Reality stabilizer: See OSF.
Santur: The Black Sun, Sol's dark matter companion. Object of fascination, if not worship, by the Santurites.
Shroud: OSF, usually a large one. "The Shroud" refers to the entirety of OSF coverage on Mars.
Skiff: Slang for spacejellies, from astroscyphozoa.
Solaroid: Any being born under the Weird Sun.
Solaront: Solaroid sophont.
Sophont: An intelligent creature or species. (GURPS IQ above 5)
Spacejelly: Giant jellyfish-like spacebound nonsapient manavore with instinctive power over gravity. One of Sola's most common spacecritters. Cythereans sometimes domesticate them.
Spellborg: Spellware-only weirdborg.
Spellware: Weirdware that only grants the power of spellcasting, i.e. wand implants.
Spellgold: See Astral Matter.
Sunchild: A solaront with extremely great mystic power, allegedly because of a special relationship with the Sun. Includes Maria Moreño, the Emperor, Rhianna Anderson and Cronos. Many others remain unconfirmed.
Sunfarer: Also ilionaut or helionaut. Those who travel the Sunway to other stars.
Sungold: See Astral Matter.
Sunway: Weirdway from the Sun's photosphere to those of other stars. The only known avenue of practical interstellar travel.
Stardust: See Astral Matter.
Synoid: From greek synithis ("ordinary", "usual"). The opposite of xenoid. A non-weird being. The prefix syn- or syni- is the antonym of xeno- (Synexoid, synisolaroid).
Syn: The physical dimension; opposite of Xen or Weirdspace. See also Cosmos, Normspace, etc.
Synichauvinism: In xenopositive communities, Mars (not to mention Kuiper) is commonly described as "synichauvinist imperialism".
Synithic: Opposite of xenotic.
Synont: Synoid sophont.
Taikatana: Japanese for "reality sword". These blades are so sharp, they can slice through the local ontography like a knife through butter. Wielded by Imperial Jovian Navy Army infantry, Samurai and Robotto.
Technomagic: Magic working in tandem with technology. Selene and Titan use this.
Thaumatic: Of or pertaining to spellcasting.
Thaumaturgy: Weirdcraft by spellcasting.
Thaumont: (Uncommon) Spellcaster.
Theogony: Godmaking. Every worshipper performs this constantly, consciously or unconsciously. Its scientific application is the basis of Brand rule on Selene.
Theome: A weird type of meme, responsible for the power vested in objects of worship.
Theometics: The scientific theory of theomes. Theometic manipulation is the base of conscious theogony or god-building.
Tritonium: An utterly black, magic-slaying substance. A component of most counterweird technology.
Weird: 1. Of or pertaining to magic and the supernatural. 2. (archaic) Out of place, unusual.
Weird Age: By consensus, the current historical epoch, starting from the Ontoclysm. Short-circuited the Diamond Age, which was just kicking in post the Transhuman Age and Information Age.
Weirdborg: Recipient of weirdware.
Weirdcraft: Any kind of weirdness manipulation.
Weirding, the: See Ontoclysm.
Weirdless: Dark.
Weirdling: See Xenont.
Weirdness: Magic and the supernatural; that which pertains to magic and the supernatural.
Weirdo: Slang for xenont. Usually considered offensive.
Weirdware: Magical cybernetics.
Weirdway: A magical gate to another place, time, or parallel universe.
Weirdspace: The magical, or mental, dimension. Also known as spellspace, the Oz, Xen, the Astral Plane, etc.
Weirdstorm: More or less randomly appearing weirdways, usually fleeting. Some chronics call them 'banestorms'.
Xen: See Weirdspace.
Xenectomy: Kuiperian-developed tritonium-based treatment to permanently remove xenotic taint. Expensive; nasty side effects. Its effect on mana-dependent creatures is not fully understood.
Xenont: Any creature in any way on the essential level shaped by or shaping weirdness, either by magical abilities or mana-dependence. The prefix xen- or xeno- may be added to other words for nuance (xenexoid, xenochronic).
Xenomutant: Type of xenont; mutant creature warped weirdly by exposure to "oz-rays"; twisted through the mental dimension, often magically attuned to or even fused with a particular concept or feeling. Requires mana to survive.
Xenontic: Of or pertaining to xenonts.
Xenotic: Synonym of weird. [/ooc]

[Loch Belthadd]

nice. you deserve a fluffy award! :fluffy:

[Cowd]

The Weird Age

Technology

I use GURPS Ultra-Tech 4E as a reference throughout.

Pre-war Earth was solidly TL11 (with lots of superscience including contragravity and psionics) and breaking into TL12 in many areas. Today the setting's default tech level is 10. There are many exceptions, however. Venus' TL3+7 magitech is off the scale entirely. Martians have TL11 military tech, but are still TL10 overall, just like Titan with its TL11 computers and information technology. Kuiper is the system's only fully TL11 society (rumored to be experimenting with TL12), and they guard their secrets jealously. Earthlings range all the way up from TL0 hunter-gatherers. Citizens of a less advanced society may acquire higher-TL gear with the right contacts and for the right price, or find it on their adventures. As a rule of thumb, one may acquire a TL11 item in a TL10 society for twice the listed cost, subject to the GM's call. Of course, any object or person from any tech level may appear in a weirdstorm, although a TL12 inventor would need exceptional ability and luck to reproduce anything from his own timeline. Likewise, a TL12^ disintegrator cannon taken from an ancient terrestrial military lab might work, but would be hard to maintain and near impossible to recreate with the existing infrastructure. (Which doesn't mean everyone wouldn't be ass over tits to seize it.) Each TL is as described in Ultra-Tech, with the following exceptions:

Reality Stabilizers do not work as described, but instead function as Ontostatic Fields or Shrouds. Mana Dampers.

Gravguns are TL12.

Perfect brain uploads to human-sized bio- or cybershells are not known - the program requires a cutting-edge mainframe, limiting them to use in large machines such as tanks and combat walkers. Low-res uploads are available, however, and not that uncommon. Brainpeeling is destructive; nondestructive uploading was experimental even on Earth.

Volitional AI is TL10 but until TL11 only fits into mainframe computers, just like mind uploads. Quantum computing is a magnitude more powerful, but is only suitable for stationary mainframes (i.e. on planets and habitats). Because of lessons from the Great War, as well as Omicron's revolutionary rhetoric, the technological powers try to minimize their use of sapient AI, and keep them especially far away from any commanding position. For this reason SAI is not a major part of any society outside the Communion.

Mininukes carry a flat cost of $40,000, instead of a cost multiplier. Like other equipment, this scales with TL: Bulky TL9 versions come for as little as $26,666 while the sleek TL11 models have an asking price of $80,000.

There exists a 100mm Magnum Grenade, shaped like a football (on Mars) or a wine bottle (most other places). $100, 2lbs.

Field-Jacketing is unknown in this setting.

Tritonium penetrators ignore any defensive spell or ability with the Magical modifier, and mana-based creatures like demons and vampires tend to have Vulnerability, Revulsion and/or Weakness to it. Tritonic ammunition is 50 times listed cost, stacking with the multiplier for specialized warheads, i.e. a tritonic shaped charge costs 100 times as much as base.

Less potent counterweird materials include iron, aka "cold iron", which is toxic to some xenonts, and silver - most weres and many vampires and demons have Vulnerability (Silver x4).

Psionic powers, long hypothesized but finally unlocked by Zheng Sha in the late 21st century, are produced by exotic quantum entanglement processes linked to sapient brain function. They can be scientifically measured and explained and there's nothing weird about them. In Weird Sun, psi won't work unless you have a psionic amplifier. For this reason, psionics is associated with technological states (including Selene). This also means that the Psionic power modifier gives you a -20% discount instead of -10%, since your psychotron can break or get stolen. A mage with psionic powers is called a psychomancer. At least on Mars and Kuiper, psykers are respected, not discriminated. Psychic healing has been a vital part of medicine since the 2090s. Telepathy is the most feared, and the heaviest regulated: Telepathy amplifiers are LC0.

Anything that uses Gravity manipulation is 10x listed cost. This includes contragravity, artificial gravity and reactionless engines. Gravcars and inertia-bubble ships are luxury items, most use conventional propulsion methods. Top speed for ships with reactionless engines is 0.01c (Move 300,000) per full G of acceleration provided by the ship's engines.

Force fields are one TL lower than listed (except stasis webs, hypertime fields and tau shields, which are still TL12) and triple listed cost. Thus a personal force screen will cost $48,000 in a TL10 society.

Magical elixirs may be delivered in any number of ways including bubblegum, cigarettes, pastilles, soda cans, candy and injections. Their cost and effects per dose are identical. Healing pills are a staple of adventurers, mass produced on Selene. More than one may give you an overdose: Roll vs HT-(doses taken) once per dose taken within a one hour timespan.

[Cowd]

Worlds Under The Sun

 [ooc]Reserved: Sol[/ooc]

[Cowd]

Venus

Population: 170 million
TL3+7 (Magitech)
Government: Thaumocratic oligarchy, CR4, CR6 for synonts
Economy: Guild-based
Currency: Cytherean Ducat (CD)

History

Before the Great War, Venus' population lived enclosed in bubble-cities that floated upon the vast cloud-ocean, in limbo between the heavenly void above and the hellish realm beneath. Maria Moreño was raised in Schiaparellia, the largest EU colony, by Her Italian mother and Brazilian-German father. As the lifeline to Earth was cut, fantastic and nightmarish reports piled up, and the hell below seemed more literal with each passing week, the people of Cytherea grew increasingly desperate. It was then that the Weird Sun shed its veil and bared its secrets to the Lady Maria. The brilliance of the God of Gods surged through Her mind, body and soul, and She was excellent. YIHOVEAUM! said the Lady, and the acid ocean parted. I AM ETERNITY! She said, and grass and forest sprouted on the shores of the Soda Sea, as the Last Dawn fated Aphrodite's children to bask in the Sunshine forever and ever. Honeyfrogs squacked and dandelions roared in the fragrant, invigorating air of the beautiful new Terra Nostra. The Landing of the City on the slopes of Mount Candy is still the holiest time of Venus' duskless year.

The Lady, carrying the mandate of Dawn herself, fundamentally transformed the stock of Venus, unlocking their hidden essential gifts. She spurned the decadent trappings of modern society, which had ended in the Great War and Earth's annihilation. No more was the fate of sapience to be decided by cold, dark and unfeeling science; no more were the monstrous machines to oppress and betray the children of the Sun. A new, just system of government arose wherein each citizen was to play a vital role, and where leadership was firmly in the hands of the most qualified. Sol smiled upon her chosen people, and their kin was fated to prosper and multiply. But still, all was not well in the Land of the Bright. Venus from the beginning faced the cold hatred of the machine-Moloch and its human homunculi, possessed by their own possessions and arrogantly shutting their eyes upon the Sun's incandescence. She encountered the petty pride of the jealous dismal, unhappy with their betters' beauty and radiance, striving to drag them down into their dark and miserable abyss. But Venus stood strong. She conquered her doubts and went on to probe the deepest secrets of Sola and the farthest reaches of the Astral Plane. God of Gods willing, Venus will enter the annals as the most wonderful land that has ever been. After all, this is the Age of Aquarius.

Terra Nostra

Venus is tidelocked to the Sun: the latter is always faced by the same side of the planet. The effects can be hard to grasp for an Earthling or a Martian. "Day", "Dusk" and "Night" are locations in space, not time, and the shadows of mountains are seventy years old. Even though powerful enchantments mitigate most of the climatological consequences, the natural geography is fundamentally alien. Dayward rivers flow mile-wide in the dusk but dry up at some point in the day before they ever reach an ocean. At noon there's a ten million square mile circular parched desert, only sparsely broken up by magitech irrigation projects. The Great Pyramid rises at least 40 miles above the capital city of Zenith, piercing the atmosphere and radiating focused brilliance across the entire planet.

The landscape of the eternal day is shaped by the weird energies that still tug at the essence of Venus, creating nothing less than a magical wonderland. Liquorice fish frolic in seas of sodapop, chocolate, milk and honey, surrounded by cotton candy willows inhabited by mulberry macaques. There's the Crystalline Forest, which complex prismatic symphonies mutate imperceptibly as the trees grow and recolorize. The fantastic terrain is peopled with creatures from myth and fairytale and imagination. Venus has roughly the surface area of Earth, but less inhabitants than Earth had in Caesar's time. Even with half the planet uninhabitable, this gives them a big surplus of living space. Thaumocrats like to occupy palatial estates covering thousands of acres. A common sight at such an abode is a flock of geese, a favored means of detecting invisible trespassers.

On the dark side, however, everything remains much as before. The Lady did not abolish the primal hell nor the unspeakable creatures therein. She only banished them into the Night, that Her people may not grow fat and complacent but always remember which side their bread is buttered on. The entire duskline is dotted with astral wards and thaumaturgical guard towers to ensure the night stays in its place. Hermits, eccentrics and adventurers often enter the night, but not everyone returns.

Society

Venus is home to some hundred-seventy million souls. Half of these are weirdless and known as the Dismal. The Bright middle-class may be the mainstay of Cytherean society, but real power, in every sense, lies with the Brilliant Families. This 250,000-strong ruling class proper enjoys near-unlimited respect and influence as well as unparallelled magical aptitude. Even the very dimmest Brilliant One should be built on at least 500 points, stretching into the multiple thousands at the Peak, and many have Magery in the double digits. The Bright and Brilliant regard the Dismal much like Victorian aristocrats viewed the lower class - with pity, contempt, often genuine sympathy, and a healthy dose of fear. The main purpose of the weirdless in the Cytherean economy, apart from unpleasant menial labor, is to provide raw willpower for mages to forge into products, services and great projects. Thus, education for the dismal is one-third social etiquette and two-thirds concentration training. For bright kids, it's not so simple.

Magic

Pre-War, Moreño was a member of the Nöosophical Society, a tiny esoteric sect with roots in early 21st century Chaos Magic and New Ageism. The way of life she infused into Venusian society is clearly marked by it. The magical revolution spawned disdain not just of synithic technology but of scientific reasoning in general. There was simply no need for it in a society ran on sheer belief and willpower. Venus' life of the mind is dominated by a host of wacky theories, the one more outlandish than the next. 'Science' lessons consist of a syncretic blend of Aristotelian physics, mythology from every corner, and whatever the teacher considers appropriate. The curriculum varies wildly from one day to the next. This is intentional. It encourages the pupil to disregard the teacher's exact words, and instead rearrange their essence into a fresh paradigm that is wholly her own. Once the pupil has assembled a working system of meta-belief, her formal education is finished.

Sometimes it behooves the magician to believe in certain gods, theories or ideologies, and other times that belief becomes a hindrance. That is not to say that passions and convictions are changed as simply and commonly as clothing. Unless your belief is genuine, it doesn't work, and whatever self-suggestive effort you went to is wasted. Unbelieving en gros is a protracted and painful process, one that few go through very often. The modest form of disillusionment, which every bright Cytherean performs regularly, is called gnostic grooming. Let's say that you meta-believe the Sun to be a magnificient ball of molten mozzarella, and that giving it tribute has served you well as a source of power. Then suddenly, your sacrifices to the great Cheese God have no effect. Your enchantments start to fray at the seams, your invocations ring increasingly hollow and your divinations are obscured in fog. But there's no need to panic. After a short bout of soul-searching, you meta-realize that it's not mozzarella, it's Fontina, and then everything comes back to normal. On Venus, this kind of spiritual hygiene is as natural and necessary as its physical counterpart. Among the upper class, shibboleths and snippets of meta-beliefs rise and fall as fast as fashions in uptown Selenopolis.

Meta-belief is the Gnosis, or source, of a mage's power. Its other component is Focus, the aspect of reality affected. Focus and Gnosis are independent; a dozen necromancers may draw their power from equally many gnosoi, and conversely, a single school of meta-belief may count members with various foci. Focus is not strictly limited: it's possible to have the power, say, of divination, illusion and enchantment, but each will be weaker than had the mage focused in a single area. In GURPS terms, Focus is roughly congruent with Spell Colleges, while Gnosis can be modeled with a few mental Disadvantages and Quirks and optionally a limitation on Magery, such as "only while quoting Sartre" or "only while doing eurhythmics", or possibly something less contrived. Cythereans practice almost every kind of magic system, from rune magic to blood magic to sex magic. Players are encouraged to go wild with customization.

Economy

Venusians understand no technology beyond simple mechanics, and sometimes not even that. And why should they? The physical "laws" must obey them, not the other way around. Venus' whole economy is based on magic, on crafting and building via focused willpower. Through intense concentration, Dismal work gangs channel their limited essence into the minds of thaumocrat foremen who finish up the product. Such mundane jobs are viewed as somewhat demeaning to a brightblood; adventuring, warring and ruling is more respectable. The trade is regulated by the guild, the master of which is usually a Bright. Thaumocrats look down their nose on "commercialism", and the merchant of Venus is one of the few positions above the bottom rung to which a Dark One may rise.

Politics

Venus' high council is the 177-strong Pyramid's Peak, which unites the mothers and fathers of the Brilliant Families atop the Great Pyramid. The Xenarch is elected from its ranks, and presently the Pyramid Crown rests on the golden locks of Orissa Marcella Banyane Behedeti Totemi Casilim Egregora Re of House del Monte of the Line Caraccioli. The political system might be described as a funhouse mirror image of Machiavellian Italy - in fact, Rodrigo Borgia himself sits in the Peak, an early weird-in from a magical alt-1498. By all accounts, relations are poisonous enough to give a box skiff pause. Xenarch Marcella has only been at it for five years but has already survived four assassination attempts. She believes the chief intriguers to be Briana Deluna and Anthony Desmond, both of which envision themselves in the highest office. Caraccioli has allied herself with the Singer-Seelenbinders, Sola's most powerful necromancers, and the alchemist Prasads, but faces renewed opposition from the Zangpos, Queneaus and DÅ,ugoszes; the latter is most unsettling for they master the art of mind control.

Compared to this sword of Damocles, the burden of state is light. Apart from all the dull details of colonial policy in Sola and beyond, the Xenarch must handle the ever-present headache of corrosive foreign influence. Reckless bandits smuggle firearms and other most alarming devices into the lowest and most defenseless levels of society, and from Martian and Kuiperian spies some stray Dark Ones suffer indoctrination with countless Internets and Nano-technologies. Quite apart from the abominable corruption of the innocent Dismals' minds, the stability of the Pyramid is at stake. The Peak has clamped down hard more than once, but the problem, it seems, will not go away.

Culture

Meta-belief must be genuine or it is useless. This fact makes a deep impression upon Cytherean society. Thaumocrats can become so convinced of their school's rightness that they engage in bitter rivalries, street duels and even vendettas. Ruthless struggles between cults of contrived nonsense are an accepted part of daily life. This is held to brighten the essence of the contending parties and thus strengthen society as a whole. Most central to the thaumocrat's code of honor, however, is service to the Pyramid, the great union in which the lowliest Dismal One plays a part as integral, if not as individually important, as that of Xenarch Marcella herself. The typical Venusian is possessed of a peculiar aristocratic restlessness, a burning desire to carry out splendid and noble deeds for the greater glory of Aphrodite (and the lesser glory of themselves). It is a common rite of passage for young mages to band together and set off in search of Lacíttavetro, or even Atlantis, or do battle with fearsome monsters in the light of some distant sun.

Cythereans can sometimes be told apart by tan alone. Unlike the uneasy Martians and deathly pale Kuiperians, Venus' thaumocrats invest great effort and pride in their bronzed skin. What's more, if you look into a Brilliant's eyes you may well catch a fiery golden glint, as if the Weird Sun were reflected in her very soul. They say the Lady Maria could strike a man blind with a single stare - inadvertantly. Sexual relations are nominally equal but actually clearly tilted towards matriarchy. Every Xenarch has been female and nearly all the Brilliant Families are headed by Mothers. A recurring character in the Lady's Testament appears to be Gaia, the Earth-Mother. Although there are many powerful wizards, they are burdened with extra weight when climbing the ranks. Thus, to Martians and others, the stereotypical mage is a witch, not a wizard. At the same time, Venus is quite meritocratic: The main component of social status is magical ability, which is constantly tested in gauntlets, tournaments and the aforementioned unofficial rivalries. The Brilliant Families are just that, the bloodlines of Venus' weirdest, but this is only a result of the inheritability of magery. The Families can and do adopt any one of lower birth who has shown herself to be capable enough. On the other hand, a thaumocrat somehow deprived of her art, such as Zænia Woods, the young witch recently kidnapped and xenectomized by Santurite terrorists, is coldly rejected and left to fend for herself among the Dismal - after her defilers are summarily disposed of, obviously.

Language and Names

Venus has no accepted common language, which is one of many sources of contention among the Families. The Lady Maria spoke Italian as Her first language but knew at least two dozen others, and does not seem to have decreed any fellow tongue upon Her followers. Her Testament is not a tract in any profane language but a weird complex of mystical, otherworldly sense-impressions, more like a lucid dream-state than a book or a film. As a result, Venusians' first languages are English, French, Arabic, German, Italian, Spanish, Russian, Chinese - in short, whatever their largely European ancestors spoke. Brilliants, of course, pride themselves on mastery of many living languages, as well as dead old Earth tongues like Sanskrit and ancient Egyptian.

Thaumocrats tend to name their children for mystical and fantastic inspirations, the more obscure and arcane the better. Always popular are mythological references to the Sun, day, light, radiance, dawn etc.: Alectrona, Anar, Bel, Eos, Hemera, Helion, Ra, Surya, Tilion, Tonatio. The most creative parents simply make up new words, dense with concealed and many-layered meaning. A Brilliant newborn will often receive a half-dozen given names or more, each meticulously crafted or chosen for its essential, symbolic power. The Dismal are usually called by any remarkable features: Curly, Krumm, Grasso, etc., when the mages deign to call them by name at all.

Xenia

Although humans are a clear majority, the Pyramid embraces xenonts from every world and reality. This tradition of providing a thaumaturgical safe haven is known as Xenia. A number of places on the Peak are held by innately magical races like elves and First Martians (known as "Greys" to the current Martians), and even demons. The Desmond Family, which is what most foreigners associate with "Venus Vampires", are rather different from most mythical and existing vampires. They don't fear sunlight: they fear its absence. Although they crave the blood of live humans (generously provided by the Dismal) and can be slain by a wooden stake through the heart, they have no fear of either garlic or running water. Perhaps the most stereotypically Brilliant form of transportation, and a common sight in the sky, is provided by the Fsywznezten clan of dragons. (Or Syshneshten, or F'cihnehten, depending on transliteration - it's kind of hard to pronounce for humans.) Breaking with their fiercely independent-minded kin, the Sysh threw their lot in with the Cythereans early on. Although their social status is higher than average on account of their great magical prowess, the wyrms often voluntarily serve as void-mounts for fellow Brilliant adventurers. Like the equally iconic pegasi, by a trick of the mind they soar through deep space at effective speeds approaching or surpassing the latest Martian fusion rockets. (They have to beat their wings for it to work.)

The Military of Venus

The individualism of the thaumocrat is an obstacle to the formation of a large, centralized army. Any big concentration of Brights or Brilliants tends to be as unruly as a Middle Ages cavalry unit. The Peak has resigned itself in most cases to divesting smaller units with a certain local autonomy, and only dispatching general guidelines from the center. Thus, amazingly, there is no traditional, centralized military command structure on Venus. Units are formed and assigned ad hoc, to a large degree based upon personal connections. Conquests are usually administered by a kind of government-sponsored feudalism, wherein the Peak distributes domains under its control to Ladies or Lords found worthy.

What they lack in organization, Venusians make up for in individual power, élan and lust for glory. Brilliants summon earthquakes and volcanoes with a flick of their wrists, calling comets and meteors from the heavens to annihilate their foes. They ride into battle on dragons, winged horses, colossal golems, or the zombified husks of giant creatures slain by legendary warriors on strange worlds. Raising armies of the undead, twisting the fabric of space and time; nobody in his right mind does not fear to face a Brilliant One in single combat. It's hard to design a proper artillery mage with GURPS Magic. The easiest way to make a mage who relies on spells for damage-dealing, as Cythereans do, is to combine powerful Innate Attacks and Afflictions with normal skill-based spells for less martial applications.

Another mark of the Venusian is the ozblade. Traditionally donated by the thaumocrat's family upon her 16th birthday, this weapon is an elongation of the mage's personal essence (with a matching appearance) and should ideally stay with her for the rest of her life. Properly wielded, an ozblade may sever not just the limbs of a foe, but the very threads separating his physical existence from the astral otherworld. The nearby and immanent beliefs, concepts and essences spill over, roil stormily and may easily consume a lesser opponent. An ozblade consists of a solid hilt that upon the mental command of the owner (a free action) projects a blade of energy, much like a lightsaber. Ozblades should be designed as Innate Attacks and spiced with Afflictions or other abilities to suit the wielder's personality.

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: Selene[/ooc]

[Cowd]

The Martian Republic



Population: 420 million
TL10^, Military mostly TL11^
Government: Federative constitutional republic, CR3, CR5 for xenonts (subtract 1-2 for weapons and armor)
Economy: State capitalist
Currency: Martian Dollar (MD)

History

Always first and foremost an American project, but with important contributions from Russia, Britain, Australia and others, in the 21st century Mars became a de facto convict colony for the increasingly theocratic and despotic governments of Earth, in particular the Christian Republic of the USA, aka the Commanderate. The planet came to hold a lot of atheists, anarchists, libertarians, socialists, communists, left liberals, Muslims and other riffraff. This motley crew grew into a nation in the 2090 revolution, when the 80 million Martians won their independence. Throughout the early 22nd century, Mars grew enormously as it absorbed hopeful immigrants from an Earth ravaged by poverty, environmental destruction and religious persecution. At the same time, terraforming accelerated, soon rendering the planet near Earthlike. "Red" Preservationism never became more than a fringe movement. Today, the air is breathable by unmodded humans, the climate is mostly pleasant, and apart from the interior deserts, Mars is vibrant with life.

The Ontoclysm hit Mars like a sledgehammer, but less forcefully so than elsewhere. Nobody knows why for sure. Theories range from the large proportion of iron in the planet's crust to mana-depletion by the old Grey civilization. In any case, within six years of weirdness, a barely coordinated weirdo rebellion snowballed into the Civil War of 2145-48, wherein the Republican North prevailed by the skin of its teeth over the Xenarchist South. Although the Southerners are long liberated from the mages' mental slavebinding, and the xenont population kept firmly under control, the Civil War left deep wounds that still fester today.

Areography

Mars' population is the largest of any state in Sola. Still, spread them across a landmass the size of Eurasia, Africa and the Americas combined and it does get rather sparse. More than anything, the Martian population distribution resembles old Australia on a massive scale, with urban agglomerations scattered along the verdant coastlines, surrounded everywhere by thousands of square miles of thinly populated outback. The Republic consists of sixteen States (Amazonis, Arcadia, Chantum, Corellia, Cydonia, East Acidalia, Hellespont, Mars, New California, New Michigan, New Oregon, North Elysium, Russell, South Elysium, Utopia, West Acidalia and Xanthe) and eleven Territories (Anarres, Aureum, Cimmeria, Claybornia, Hesperia, Lemuria (on Earth), Noach, Novy Sibir, Redland, Sirenum and Tharsis), not counting the exosolar settlements. The sheer areas involved may overwhelm anyone used to Earthling scales - New Oregon is the size of Texas, California and Alaska combined, and Tharsis Territory is larger than North America. The biggest population centers are found in Corellia, New Oregon and Russell, the "Heartland" lining the coasts of the Mariner Sea. Mars City, the capital, has its own state bordering Russell and New Oregon, near the straits between the Mariner and Chryse Bay. Other major cities include Kamen, New California; Dawkins, Cydonia and Byzantium, New Michigan.

Culture

Sex

Sexual, racial or ethnic discrimination has faded into irrelevance. On Mars, gender equality means that the women adopt masculine virtues, not the other way around. In a twist of fate, Africans are one of the most successful and respected ethnic groups. The conscious disregard of any Christian baggage has resulted in extremely sex-positive attitudes. Prostitution and pornography are taxed, regulated, and "clean" in the public eye. Pornstardom is sidelined with "dry" movie stardom as an accepted, if unrealistic, dream for young girls and boys. Sex on public property is legal so long as you clean up afterwards. Gays are entirely accepted. Slightly more iffy, but still no big deal, are sexual relations between humans and any of the numerous intelligent GM minority species. Of course, xenosexuality, or more colloquially, freak-fucking, is beyond the pale. Except in the most liberal Southern states (Chantum, Hellespont and New Michigan), it implies long prison sentences and, should the wheels of justice prove too slow, community retribution. Even in Hellas, it is considered perverse.

Drugs

Recreational drug use is legal and widespread, albeit regulated and taxed. Cannabis and its GM variants are a staple: even the tiniest town is likely to have a grass-bar. In the hands of a Martian, marijuana is only incapacitating when dramatically appropriate; otherwise, it's just chill. Weed and alcohol are legal at age 16; tobacco, cocaine, LSD, MDMA and psilocybine mushrooms at 18. Heroin, meth and similar hard drugs and their derivatives are illegal and uncommon. The resistance to these substances pales, however, in comparison to the hysteria over the new "weirdo drugs", concocted by insidious Selenese and Cytherean alchemists to destroy Mars' youth and corrupt them into a Fifth Column of Xenarchy. Simple possession can mean prison years in the double digits; distribution carries up to capital punishment in some states (like Cydonia). Still, the smuggling continues thanks to the huge profits involved, and is one of the Mob's most cherished venues.

Guns

Most characteristically, Martians are, well, martial. The common stereotype is so jingoistic he could die of exhaustion from sheer flag-waving, and the truth isn't far off - this caricature is actually based on a true story. He is also armed to the teeth. There are officially 215 firearms per 100 citizens (compare 2008 America, with 90 per 100). Control Rating of weapons and armor is 2 in States and 1 in Territories, where shroud coverage is sparse and the government's response to xenotic threats is much slower. To defend their lives and property, most outback families (generally ranchers or plantationists) keep a handful of battlesuits and heavy weapons, and maybe a tank and a mininuke or two. The government offers free martial arts training to anyone who wants it, and an adult with no combat skills at all qualifies for Social Stigma (Ignorant). On the other hand, all military personnel, or even civilian combat experts, enjoy one level of Social Regard (Respected), except Marines, who get two.

Sports

Martians are enthusiastic sportsmen. Since 2156, the country has held its own Olympic Games - nobody else wanted to follow the rules. Martian football takes advantage of the low gravity and dense atmosphere for an airy, almost ethereal (yet intense and brutal) experience. The same conditions make unpowered heavier-than-air flight possible, and winged "birdbikes" are a common sight in the cities. Psi-powered sports such as brainball are also popular. Surfing, like sailing, is a national hobby, and even the most rednecked Tharsians vacation by the North Sea (especially New California) in summer. Some settlers have tried to re-import their beloved pastime back to Australia, but the triple gravity means the waves are disappointingly small. Winter sports are just as popular: Ascraeus Mons has the largest ski resort in the Solar System. Hunting is huge. Terran unicorn meat (properly darkened) has become a delicacy, to the furious protests of mages from Venus to Saturn. In the shadows there are bloodsports. So-called "freakfights", xenont deathmatches, get more and more popular in the most darkwing states. They're not legal, but Lady Justice often has more important things to deal with.

Science

Mars was a penal colony for theocracies, and subsequent history, with the Republic attacked on all sides by forces opposed not just to science but to reason itself, only strengthened the anti-irrational tendency. Today, 85% of Mars' population are more or less Dawkinsian atheists. Religious irrationality is the most common explanation for the Great War, and openly religious people, while legally equal, face overbearing attitudes and glass ceilings everywhere. Society is permeated with a heartfelt love of technico-scientific progress, and outstanding inventors and scientists often become popular heroes. Still, Martians are no cold, calculating, unfeeling people: In fact, foreigners often comment that they possess a unique ability to be rational and sentimental at the same time. It sometimes seems as if Martians are genetically predisposed to be gifted tinkerers. In GURPS terms, Gadgeteer and scientific and technical skills are common, even with amateurs.

Society

The Xeno Codes

On average, one in fifty Martians have some form of magical aptitude or essential weirdness about them. All of them must carry the "code pack", a biometric ID card with a smartchip tracking their movements and broadcasting their nature to the surroundings, subject to control at any time. They may not own a powered flying vehicle, nor travel outside the specially shrouded xeno-zones without official permission, and receive separate, super-stabilized accomodations as regards schools, public transit and other public places. Informed possession, let alone use, of a magic item, is a serious felony, and spellcasting is equivalent to terrorism. That's for the moderate kind of weirdo, which is bad enough. Inherently malevolent types, such as vampires and demons, are legally vermin to be hunted on sight. In darkwing states, attempted employment of xenont workers is often occasion for angry protestation or even strike action, and should rumors get around that are nasty enough - say, that some snivelling mageling mind-controlled a local beau and had his way with her, then those rational and freethinking scientific-minded folk might just get upset enough to rig up the community autodafé. A wizard on Mars should take Social Stigma (Second-Class Citizen) and (Minority Group), usually combined with low Status and Wealth. A vampire, werewolf or similar "Malevolent Xenont" gets Social Stigma (Monster). Among the synithic, Intolerance (Xenonts) is very common.

Of course, we would all like to live in perfect harmony forever and ever after, like in the fairytales. But this notion is just that - a sweet fairytale, which has been and is being used to cover up a nightmare reality. Xenont rights, this starry-eyed pipe dream of liberal bleeding hearts, is also a screen for the power fantasy of unscrupulous would-be weirdlords, who will coldly use it as a stepping stone to tyranny. The simple fact remains that wherever the weirdos have run loose, they have taken over. They started it, anyway, by rebelling against lawful authority, and the continued xenoterrorist attacks suggest that they're not interested in "coexistence as equals" anytime soon.

Language and names

Martian English is mostly American with some Australian expressions ("good on ya, buddy"), and some slang incorporates Russian loanwords (pugly = frightened, oozie = chain, mord = snout, naz = idiot, gloopy = stupid, yarbles = testicles). "Gay" and synonyms lost their pejorative meaning more than a century ago; their use is the 23rd century equivalent of calling a 2008 American a "slack-jawed, yaller-livered son of a dung heap". The exception is the word "faggot", which has lost any connotation with homosexuality and returned to the original meaning of "someone to be burnt on the stake", i.e. a serious felon magic-user. For this reason it is still one of the most offensive expressions in Martian English. "Slut" is purely descriptive, and other colloquial sexual terms are not very offensive and are casually used even in government documents. Their pejorative role is filled by magical terms: freak (and freaking), weirdo (and weird-ass), pervert. The nouns "xenont" and "xeno" are neutral, official terms, but often used as pejoratives anyway.

Mars is a nation of immigrants, and citizens may descend from any Earth culture with names to match. Local peculiarities include naming for chemical substances (Iron, Freon, Carbon, Fullerena), areographical features (Mariner, Rusty, Pavonia), relevant mythological references (Nergal, Mangala - less popular post-Weirding) and famous warriors and scientists. As of 2208, the most common names are Martin and Stella.

Economy

Although culturally libertarian (okay, with a few exceptions) Mars is moderately socialistic in its economy. The nation is wealthy, but generally doesn't place as much value in material riches as in honest work and service to the community. The enormous industrial base, Sola's largest, is extensively automated, freeing living minds up for matters of more import than unskilled labor. The state is the largest single capitalist, with a majority share in several big corporations including CydoniaWorks, the arms division of which (CydoniaWorks Armory or CWA) is the largest MMF contractor and regarded as the highest quality weapons manufacturer in Sola. Another big player in that market is the New California-based MADRADS (Maxwell's Amazing Death Rays And Defense Supplements), which focuses on energy weapons. Its eccentric billionaire founder, genius inventor Mortimer Maxwell, lives on a mad scientist-styled personal island fifty miles north of Kamen, and likes to sponsor risky Earthbound tech-salvage expeditions.

Most Martians consider vatflesh beneath them and make up the core market for a prosperous livestock industry, naturally subject to strict regulations. Dinosaur meat has really caught on since they were brought in from Earth: Brontosaurus burgers are a national staple, gallimimus herds are a common sight on the grasslands of Xanthe and Arcadia, and "raptor wrangler" is no unusual job description. Agriculture features gigantic industrialized farms and plantations, not uncommonly run by a single small family with an army of robotic workers.

Many of the private corporations would like to adopt technomagic to increase productivity, but they have arrayed against them the state, the unions (organizing 80% of the workforce) and public opinion. Thus, the traditional oppositional Liberal Republicans are more market-friendly as well as more magic-friendly, within the bounds of decency, of course. Most corporations are okay with the current set-up: After all, the government protects them from technomagical competition, and lets them enjoy their modest profits in relative peace. In the end, they don't rock the boat very much.

Technology

Outside of the big cities, the hovercraft and aircar have replaced the motorcar. Internal combustion engines are long banned, anyway: most personal vehicles are battery electric. Long-range transportation uses helium airships or maglev trains. Suborbital jets are available for quick travel at increased cost, generally only along the North Sea coast, or from there to the Hellas or Argyre areas. Extreme high priority mail may be delivered by railgun and parachute.

Mars' socialist healthcare system means that modern science, including genefixing and genetic upgrading, isn't just for the rich. The average lifespan is 160 years, and people can stay at physical apex well into their fifties. Most Martians should take one level of Extended Lifespan. Uplift animals, genetic parahumans and wholly gengineered species have been enthusiastically accepted into society and suffer only slight discrimination. Robots and AI, on the other hand, remain tools with voices. Perceived Singularitan tendencies are usually treated with restoration from an uncorrupted backup.

The communes

Another peculiarly Martian phenomenon are the communes scattered across the outback, reminiscent of Israeli Kibbutzim. The inhabitants live in complete equality and decisions are made democratically. One in twelve Martians are commune-children, born in exowombs and communally raised. Most were founded by immigrant Socialists and Communists, but there are also religious, libertarian and anarchist ones. Many have become successful cooperative enterprises.

Politics

The system is based on proportional representation to a unicameral Senate. The majority party or coalition forms the government and chooses the President. The 2206 elections went like this:

Social Republican (SR): 60%
Liberal Republican (LR): 24%
Santurite (S): 11%
Red List (RL): 2%
Radical Republican (RR): 2%
Singularitan (SN): 1%
Xenarchist (X): N/A (banned)

With two exceptions (2158-62 and 2190-94), the Social Republicans have been in power for the last 60 years, always securing between 45 and 65% of the vote. Right now, they are more popular than ever in the last two decades, in no small part thanks to the charismatic President Dragonslayer, who has promised to be tough on cults, xenodrugs, government corruption and bad employers, and expand the Earth recivilization program. The So Reps' main bastions of support are the unionized working class, the public enterprises and the military, kept loyal with lavish welfare provisions and a $45 trillion military budget supported by Sola's highest taxes. They view the free market as a powerful force for good, but one that has to be harnessed and regulated, just like any natural force, or it will backfire like a river breaching its dam.

The other election winner was the Santurites, who have been gaining a lot of ground recently. Mysterious wetship disappearances, rumors of Cytherean superspells, and renewed cultist attacks (prominently, a Demon Prince summoned into a New Chicago mall) are currently brewing up another major witch-scare, and the So Reps, no matter how much they repeat the word "normalcy", aren't quite darkwing enough to absorb the whole spectrum of opinion. The Santurites got especially far with their demand that Conrad Washington be taken out and burnt on the stake. For six decades, the self-proclaimed "Martian sunchild" and leader of the xenarchist rebellion has enjoyed his stay in the planet's most advanced supermaximum security prison, on Face Island, Cydonia. The rumor is widespread that he is somehow still commanding his forces from the inside, despite a triply-redundant shroud, elite WPD (World Police Department, the federal cops) guards and total isolation behind yards and yards of spellproofed concrete. The story goes that the government keeps him around not so much out of respect for his person as of fear of the potential cosmic repercussions of executing a Sunchild. The So Reps are divided on this issue and it's possible that the more hot-headed Santurites will get their way soon. Depending on how exactly Weird Sola works, that might become a major historical event.

The Martian Military Forces

The two branches of the MMF are the Space Force (responsible for deep space operations) and Marine Corps (worldbound operations away from home). Just like a real army, the Martian military can be portrayed as noble crusaders, brutal xenophobes, or anything inbetween. Campaign tone may range from "grim, realistic war-movie" to "silly space anime". It all depends on what kind of game the players and GM want.

Rank....Marines.............Space Force
8...........Field Marshal...Sky Marshal
7...........General.............Admiral
6...........Colonel.............Commodore
5...........Major.................Master Chief
4...........Captain.............Banneret
3...........Lieutenant.........Reeve
2...........Sergeant...........Ensign
1...........Corporal............Killick
0...........Private..............Spacer

A ship's commanding officer is referred to as Skipper, not Captain. Both branches are coordinated from Summer Tholus, the War Department HQ built into the escarpment of Olympus Mons, and the President is Arch Marshal - the title "Commander in Chief" does not exist, in remembrance of the fate of the United States.

The Space Force

Vessels follow the rules in GURPS Spaceships. The four types of capital hulls are cruisers (SM +15, 700 yards), frigates (SM +14, 500 yards), corvettes (SM +13, 300 yards) and brigs (SM +12, 200 yards). The largest general purpose warship is the Deliverance-class battlecruiser (of which there are eight more: Vigilance, Vengeance, Liberty, Normalcy, Solidarity, Rationality, Democracy and Enlightenment), massing three million tons and bristling with laser cannons and thermonuclear missile launchers, not to mention a three-terajoule range spinal X-ray laser. Its counterpart is the Arcadia-class Carriercruiser (with sisters Cimmeria, Corellia, Cydonia, Hesperia, New California and Utopia), less heavily armed but capable of transporting two entire Marine Armies (120,000 troops), and thus of dominating a whole star system. All amenities are provided on board including bars, brothels, gyms, casinos and enough "Tunguska" 25MT nukes to glass a Mars-sized planet in a matter of days. A ship like this is a great 'quest hub' for an MMC campaign, especially an interstellar one.

The Marines

The two-million-strong, all-volunteer Martian Marine Corps is the Solar System's undisputed master of technological ground combat. Its philosophy is to take the fight to the enemy, and with its numerous bases scattered around the Martian sphere of influence, it is the Republic's main line of defense in Sola and beyond. The largest deployment by far is Earth, housing one fifth of the Corps' total strength in addition to the locally-recruited Earthling Legion. To terrestrials, the official face of the MMC is Field Marshal Julian MacMagnus III, officer-in-charge of Army Group Earth. This spry octogenarian is a veteran of every major encounter of the last half-century and has 48,705 kills to his name. He earned the moniker "Godfucker" when he dispatched a rampaging avatar of Shiva with an anal nuke. The Field Marshal still goes on the occasional planetside MX-hunt to get away from all the drywork, despite living on the geosynchronously orbiting Carriercruiser Corellia with his husband and kids. He also likes to surf.

The basic Marine unit is the squad, consisting of 3-8 troops, which is further organized into the platoon, company, battalion, regiment, brigade, division, army and army group. A decent starting point level is 500, but may reach as high as 1,000, depending on how far over the top you want to go. No Marine may possess any physical attribute below 14, nor IQ below 12, and most have attributes well above this level. For this reason, the Marine Corps is mostly composed of superhuman genetic upgrades, homo superior parahumans, cyborgs, bioborgs, or combinations. Of baseline humans, only the very best gain admission. Depending on mission requirements, psykers are injected into standard units or formed into squads of their own. What, weirdos in the military? You've got to be kidding.

Like the way of life it defends, the Corps is simultaneously egalitarian and individualistic. Similarly to Old Earth fighter pilots, all troops have a callsign, or moniker. Marine monikers nearly always come from a member of his squad or other coworker, and it is considered bad form to try to give oneself a callsign. It's common for fresh cubs to be initially assigned a fairly derogatory moniker, with the expectation that the cub will work hard enough to earn the respect of its community, and with it a better (and usually permanent) callsign. The Corps maintains its own atmospheric, seaborne and land-based vehicles, prominently featuring "Thunderbird" fusion-vertol gunships, "Nelson" tanks and "Baron", "Duke" and "King" mechanized walkers (mechs). For orbital assaults, Carriercruisers store drop pods that can deliver a dog squad anywhere on a planet within 20 minutes. The Corps proper wages constant war against hostile demons, vampires, megabugs, aliens, cultists, dragons and countless other manifestations of Mike X-Ray; more delicate operations fall within the sphere of the Marine Corps Special Commandos, AKA Dark Ops, the Wolves or just Spec Com, Mars' special forces. A whole different ballpark is the Republican Security Service, the intelligence agency. An RSS campaign would be lighter on the firepower, focusing more on aircar chases across the Marineris cityscapes, last-minute thwartings of demon-gate rituals by evil terrorist cults, gun-running to rebels in Cytherean Africa and Jovian Australia and nerve-wracking undercover hobnobbing with the Brilliant Families.

Standard issue for every Marine is a CWA U80 Gauss HMG with an underbarrel U12 Auto EMGL. The whole package weighs 115lbs. unloaded and costs $90,000, and its component weapons otherwise retain their stats. Each Marine also gets one or two more heavy weapons. Common selections include Tactical Missile Launchers from Olympus Ordnance (often loaded with N-33 "Nutcracker" mininukes, for major targets), Rainbow Strike Lasers from MADRADS (for sniping, sometimes issued solely), U95 "Six-Shooter" Gauss Miniguns (for lots of weak foes), MADRADS Tactical MAD (for crowd control) or X-Ray Lasers (only in vacuum), double-O Semi-Portable Blasters (for electronic and robotic targets), Tactical Neural Disruptors (for search and extract), Semi-Portable Flamers (against botswarms or hordes of undead), and Fusion Gatling Guns or Semi-Portable Fusion Guns (for various uses). Heavy Blaster Pistols, Heavy Plasma Pistols and Gauss Shotgun Pistols (with custom shells) compete for the position of most popular sidearm, and Marines are free to bring personal equipment on missions. In general, one in twenty-five issued rounds are tritonic, and warheads otherwise come in a rainbow of flavors from shaped charges and thermobarics to nerve gas and disassembler nano. The most devastating infantry weapon in the Corps' arsenal is the N-88 "Spellbreaker" tritonium-salted nuclear warhead, capable not just of vaporizing most any magic-based entity within half a mile in a pitch-black mushroom cloud, but drenching the soil in spelldeath for decades to come.

Should that not be sufficient, it's time to call in the bombard. A Tunguska warhead does 8d x 150,000 crushing explosive damage, linked with 6d x 300,000 burning damage with the surge, radiation and explosive modifiers, the latter divided by distance in yards instead of 3 x distance. In other words, at 1000 yards the numbers are 8d x 50 and 6d x 300; at 10,000 yards they are 8d x 5 and 6d x 30. Even at one thousand kilometers from ground zero, the radiation will start fires and kill small animals. If launched from the orbit of an Earth-sized planet, the bomb will strike within five minutes of launch in ideal conditions. A carriercruiser holds up to 8,000 of these, and a single Spellbreaker version can extinguish an entire fiendish or undead nation. Strategic nuclear bombardment usually has significant political implications, and is only used as the very last resort on Earth. On the other hand, some backwater exosolar diabolic civilization that nobody cares about? Nuke 'em 'til they love you. (Then nuke 'em 'til they die.) Incredible as it may sound, even carpet-nuking is not enough sometimes. The military has been rumored, in cases of extreme resistance, to evacuate all ground forces, mount a fusion rocket on an asteroid, initiate full thrust towards the planet and call it a day. ("We didn't want it anyway.")

The crux of the outfit, and indeed the entire Corps, is the CWA B-9 "Diamond Dog" dreadnought battlesuit. Powered by a micro-fusion reactor with a ten year lifespan and equipped with the latest TL11 nanocomposite armor, shielding, OSF and cool accessories, the B-9 will amplify individual strength, mobility and protection to Herculean heights. For close combat, each sleeve may sprout a foot-long hyperdense vibroblade (treat as Talons, use Brawling skill). A lone Diamond Dog is a terrific force; a squad is a local superpower. Alternatives include the B-13 "Black Dog" military cybersuit, utilized by the RSS and sometimes by Spec Com. Many Marines grow very attached to their Dogs, getting personal with its AI and developing custom paintjobs.

Dogfighting

To maximize battlesuit efficiency the Corps has developed so-called dogfighting, a martial arts style that emphasizes presenting a mobile target and utilizing the environment through jumps and flips while maintaining fire with one or two heavy weapons. Most hounds are also experts in "naked" martial arts. In his second skin, a Marine can sideflip into cover from a one-handed stand and then leap ten yards up onto high ground, while dodging xenont death-rays and releasing a torrent of destruction spot on target, all without breaking a sweat. That is the realistic version. Cinematic dogfighting is the province of Martian action movies and videogames, and features such acts as winning a fight with your sensors out and visors obfuscated, employing a Nutcracker as your personal Orion Drive, laser-cleaving incoming railgun slugs and blasting strategic missiles and even starships out of the sky.

Dogfighting (6 points)

Skills: Environmental Suit (Battlesuit), Acrobatics, Gunner (Machine Gun), Gunner (Cannon), Brawling.
Techniques: Acrobatic Attack (Any Gunner), Acrobatic Stand, Acrobatic Dodge, Dual-Weapon Attack (Any Gunner), Move and Shoot (Any Gunner), Off-Hand Weapon Training (Any Gunner).
Cinematic Skills: Blind Fighting, Zen Marksmanship (Any Gunner).
Perks: Quick Jump.

Optional traits:
Advantages: Ambidexterity, Combat Reflexes, Cultural Familiarity (Martian), Enhanced Dodge, Gunslinger, High Pain Threshold.
Disadvantages: Duty (MMC), Intolerance (Xenonts), Sense of Duty (MMC).
Skills: Aerobatics, Armoury (Battlesuits), Armoury (Heavy Weapons), Artillery (Cannon), Artillery (Guided Missile), Fast-Draw (Ammo), Fast-Draw (Heavy Weapons), Free Fall, Jumping, Gunner (Beams), Gunner (Rockets), Guns (Any), Judo, Karate, Melee (Knife), Throwing.
Perks: Weapon Bond, Shtick.

New Technique: Acrobatic Attack (Hard)
Default: Skill-2
Prerequisite: Any weapon skill, cannot exceed skill
Normally, when using an acrobatic maneuver (leaping, vaulting, flipping etc) as the Move part of a Move and Attack maneuver, you are at an extra -2 in addition to the Move and Attack penalty. This technique lets you buy off the extra penalty.

New Technique: Move and Shoot (Hard)
Default: The lower of skill-2 or skill-Bulk
Prerequisite: Any ranged weapon skill, cannot exceed skill
You are practiced at firing while mobile. This lets you buy down the skill penalty when performing a Move and Attack maneuver with the ranged weapon of your choice.

New Perk: Quick Jump
Normally, you must concentrate for one second before jumping, or you will only reach half your maximum distance. This Perk represents extensive jump experience, and lets you jump the maximum distance without preparation.

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: The Main Belt[/ooc]

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: Jupiter[/ooc]

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: Saturn[/ooc]

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: Kuiper[/ooc]

[Cowd]

Earth

[spoiler=Map][/spoiler]  

[Cowd]

[ooc]Reserved: Into The Void[/ooc]

[Cowd]

Characters

Dez Landau

Dennis Landau is a spaceman in the fullest sense. Born on a ramshackle backwater L4 station to a prostitute mother and an unidentified brandhand father, Dez appears already in his infant-clothes as the very embodiment of rootlessness. From the first, he seemed cut out for a life on the frazzle. At the age of four, the kid was swaggering around like he owned the place. By six he could never stop getting into trouble. He finally fell into a bigger mess than he could handle at the ripe young age of seventeen, when an ill-advised fling with the magistrate's daughter made him persona non grata aboard his self-described homeworld. As a result, like so many of his generation, he gravitated to the Moon.

Taking up work as an oddjob contractor, he fell victim to many vices. The Selenese love of gambling, in particular, grabbed him by the lapels and never let go. He won his ship, the Dragonfly, from an exosolaroid spice trader in a not quite clean game of poker. This is the only good thing gambling has ever got him, but he never stops using it to justify his addiction. Over the years, Cap'n Landau has run rackets from one end of Sola to the other: Steller-brand magidrugs to Acidalia, CWA plasma guns to Brazilian guerillas and a slew of artifacts from the Twilight Zone to the highest bidder. As a smuggler moonlighting as a petty pirate and adventurer, Dez has optimized his "breezer" for speed and stealth over defense and raw firepower. The old fusion drive will now gleefully swallow a pixie dust injection for accel bursts of up to 15G, and the hi-technomagic invisibility enchantment makes sure the 'clients' never know what's coming until the proverbial knife is on their throat. The ship is named for the time a deal went sour in the New Guinea jungle and Dez had to escape enraged mobsters on the back of a giant dragonfly. Selling the 'Fly would more than pay off his gambling debts but Dez won't even consider it, having grown attached to the old jalopy. At present, Dennis makes a precarious living "semi"-based out of Selenopolis running wares for small and medium brands, while evading his long and unsettling list of enemies. For the right price, he can give you a lift to almost anywhere.

[spoiler=Sheet]Name: Dennis Joyce "Dez" Landau
Concept: Bedraggled yet debonaire space smuggler
Race: Human
Age: 33
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 185 lbs.
Appearance: Rugged good Caucasian looks, with slicked dark blonde hair over perceptive, slightly shifty blue eyes and a grizzled coat of stubble.

Attributes [130]
ST 11 [10]
DX 12 [40]
IQ 13 [60]
HT 12 [20]

HP 11
Will 13
Per 13
FP 12

Basic Lift 24
Damage 1d-1/1d+1

Basic Speed 6
Basic Move 6

Ground Move 6
Water Move 1

Social Background
TL: 10

Cultural Familiarities: Spacer (Native)

• ; Martian [1]; Selenese [1].

Languages: English (Native)

• ; Italian (Accented/None) [2]; Japanese (Broken/None) [1]; Portuguese (Accented/None) [2]; Spanish (Broken/None) [1].

Advantages [153]
Ally (Milky the Space Cat) (25% of starting points) (9 or less) [1]
Ambidexterity [5]
Appearance (Attractive) [4]
Born Spacer (1) [5]
Charisma (1) [5]
Combat Reflexes [15]
G-Experience (3) [3]
Gunslinger [25]
Hard to Kill (2) [4]
Hard to Subdue (2) [4]
Intuition (Magic Die) (Gadget/Can Be Stolen: Thief must win a Quick Contest of DX or ST; Gadget/Unique) [7]
Serendipity (Lucky Silver Dollar) (1) (Gadget/Can Be Stolen: Thief must win a Quick Contest of DX or ST; Gadget/Unique) [7]
Super Signature Gear (The Dragonfly) ($35,000,000) [60]

Disadvantages [-105]
Addiction (Alcohol) (Cheap) (Incapacitating; Legal) [-10]
Compulsive Gambling (12 or less) [-5]
Debt (-10) [-10]
Enemy (Martian Mob and other assorted lowlifes) (medium-sized group, some formidable or super-human) (9 or less) [-30]
Enemy (Xenotics Enforcement Agency of Mars) (medium-sized group, some formidable or super-human) (9 or less) [-30]
Magic Susceptibility (-3) [-9]
Missing Digit (Missing Thumb) (Mitigator (Cybernetics)) [-1]
Wealth (Struggling) [-10]

Quirks [-2]
Broad-Minded [-1]
Ladies' man [-1]
Cheater [-1]

Skills [81]
Area Knowledge (Earth) IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Area Knowledge (Mars) IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Area Knowledge (Selenopolis) IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Area Knowledge (Sola) IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Armoury/TL10 (Small Arms) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Armoury/TL10 (Vehicular Armor) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Beam Weapons/TL10 (Pistol) DX/E - DX+0 12 [1]
Boxing DX/A - DX+0 12 [2]
Businessman! IQ/WC - IQ-1 12 [12]
Cartography/TL10 IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Climbing DX/A - DX-1 11 [1]
Computer Operation/TL10 IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Counterfeiting/TL10 IQ/H - IQ-1 12 [2]
Cryptography/TL10 IQ/H - IQ-2 11 [1]
Current Affairs/TL10 (Headline News) IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Detect Lies Per/H - Per-1 12 [2]
Driving/TL10 (Automobile) DX/A - DX-1 11 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Communications) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Electronic Warfare) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Sensors) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Electronics Repair/TL10 (Computers) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Fast-Draw (Pistol) DX/E - DX+1 14 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Combat Reflexes'
Fast-Talk IQ/A - IQ+1 14 [4]
Forgery/TL10 IQ/H - IQ-1 12 [2]
Free Fall DX/A - DX+0 12 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Born Spacer'
Freight Handling/TL10 IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Geography/TL10 (Political) IQ/H - IQ-2 11 [1]
Gunner/TL10 (Beams) DX/E - DX+0 12 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Pistol) DX/E - DX+0 13 [2]
Holdout IQ/A - IQ+0 13 [2]
Intimidation Will/A - Will-1 12 [1]
Leadership IQ/A - IQ+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Charisma'
Mechanic/TL10 (High-Performance Spacecraft) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Meteorology/TL10 (Earthlike) IQ/A - IQ-1 12 [1]
Navigation/TL10 (Space) IQ/A - IQ+0 14 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Born Spacer'
Observation Per/A - Per-1 12 [1]
Piloting/TL10 (High-Performance Spacecraft) DX/A - DX+2 14 [4]
   includes: +1 from 'Born Spacer'
Psychology (Human) IQ/H - IQ-1 12 [2]
Riding (Megabug) DX/A - DX-1 11 [1]
Savoir-Faire (Spacer) IQ/E - IQ+1 14 [2]
Scrounging Per/E - Per+0 13 [1]
Search Per/A - Per-1 12 [1]
Sex Appeal (Human) HT/A - HT+0 12 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Appearance'
Shiphandling/TL10 (Spaceship) IQ/H - IQ-2 12 [2]
Sleight of Hand DX/H - DX-2 10 [1]
Smuggling IQ/A - IQ+1 14 [4]
Spacer/TL10 IQ/E - IQ+2 15 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Born Spacer'
Streetwise IQ/A - IQ+0 13 [2]
Tactics IQ/H - IQ-2 11 [1]
Vacc Suit/TL10 DX/A - DX+0 12 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Born Spacer'

Stats [130] Ads [153] Disads [-105] Quirks [-2] Skills [81] = Total [247]

Hand Weapons
1  Zap Glove  LC:4  $400  Wgt:1  
    stun  Dam:HT-6 (2) aff  Reach:C  Parry:No  ST:2  Skill:Boxing, Brawling, Karate, DX  
    kill  Dam:2d burn  Reach:C  Parry:No  ST:2  Skill:Boxing, Brawling, Karate, DX  

Ranged Weapons
1  Force Beamer  LC:4  Dam:3d cr dkb  Acc:3  Range:100 / 300  
    RoF:1  Shots:22(3)/B  ST:3  Bulk:-1  Rcl:1  $150  Wgt:.35  
1  Heavy Laser Pistol  LC:3  Dam:4d (2) burn  Acc:6  Range:300 / 900 (Enchanted: Accuracy 1)
    RoF:10  Shots:56(3)/2C  ST:6  Bulk:-2  Rcl:1  $2400  Wgt:3.3  
1  Magnum Pistol, 15mmCLP  LC:3  Dam:4d+1 pi++  Acc:2  Range:235 / 2600 (Enchancted: Quick-draw)
    RoF:3  Shots:9+1(3)/1  ST:11  Bulk:-2  Rcl:4  $870  Wgt:3  

Armor & Possessions
1  Air Mask  $100  Wgt:2  Location:  
1  Armored Shades (TL 9)  $100  Wgt:.1  Location:eyes  
20  C cell  $200  Wgt:10  Location:  
1  Flexible Space Helmet (TL10)  $500  Wgt:.5  Location:head  
1  Nanoweave Gloves  $30  Wgt:0  Location:hands  
1  Nanoweave Bomber Jacket  $450  Wgt:3  Location:arms, torso (Enchanted: Deflect 1: +1 to active defenses)
1  Nanoweave Trousers  $280  Wgt:2.8  Location:groin, legs  
1  Reflex Vacc Suit  $12000  Wgt:30  Location:all  

The Dragonfly (heavily modified Mahoney-class freighter)
TL10; SM+6 (20 yards, streamlined); 100 tons
Armament: 1 Strike Laser, 1 Gatling Laser, 4 100mm missile launchers
Complement: 6 (captain/astrogator, pilot, gunner, comm officer, chief engineer, medic/mage) [/spoiler]

Rogh Rockfist

Rogh use to live in Rock Orc Land. Rogh live with tribe, hunting Water Dwarfs and Wood Elves. Roogh, Elves! Rogh hate elves! Rogh come in Storm. Wierd Storm. Whole tribe come with Rogh in Wierd Storm. O no. What to do now?! But Rogh make work like Rock Orc do. Rogh learn to drive motorbike. Rogh learn to shoot! Rogh learn to make BOOOM! O o o. Rogh learn tribe too! Tribe Biker Gang now. Rogh make proud. Rogh kick ass! Puny human fear Rogh. Rock not made like puny human. Rogh silicon-based life-form. Rogh eat rocks and metal in ground. Rogh like lead in particular but on hard day can subsist on chromium or cadmium but best thing Rogh know is Braunite silicate mineral containing both di- and tri-valent manganese. How Rogh know all this? Rogh read up on Internet.

Rogh for hire now. Rogh in work for Brandy Handy Man. Rogh your Rock Orc when things need go BOOOM! So long as not work with Elves. Rooogh, Elves! Rogh also play drums in Rock Band.

[spoiler=Sheet]Name: Rogh Rockfist
Concept: Heavy metal/heavy weapons Orc
Race: Rock Orc
Age: Not know. More than 10
Height: 7'8" (SM +1)
Weight: 475 lbs.
Appearance: A huge, broad humanoid, with skin like gravel, eyes like charcoal and giant metallic canines displayed in a stupid grin.

Attributes [159]
ST 22 [108]
DX 12 [40]
IQ 9 [-20]
HT 14 [40]

HP 25 [6]
Will 10 [5]
Per 11 [10]
FP 14

Basic Lift 97
Damage 2d/4d

Basic Speed 5 [-30]
Basic Move 5

Ground Move 5
Water Move 1

Social Background
TL: 9 [-5]
Cultural Familiarities:
Languages: Rock Orc (Native); English (Accented) [4]

Advantages [164]
Combat Reflexes [15]
Damage Resistance (10) [50]
Fearlessness (3) [6]
Filter Lungs [5]
Hard to Kill (2) [4]
Hard to Subdue (3) [6]
High Pain Threshold [10]
Infravision [10]
Metabolism Control (1) [5]
Nictitating Membrane (1) [1]
Pressure Support (1) [5]
Radiation Tolerance (2) [5]
Resistant (Metabolic Hazards) (Very Common) (Immunity) [30]
Signature Gear (Weapons) (2) [2]
Teeth (Sharp Teeth) [1]
Temperature Tolerance (10) [10]

Perks [1]
Penetrating Voice [1]

Disadvantages [-95]
Easy to Read [-10]
Extra Sleep (-2) [-4]
Ham-Fisted (-1) [-5]
Impulsiveness (12 or less) [-10]
Intolerance (Elves) [-5]
Noisy (Constant sound like gnashing rocks and gravel) (-3) [-6]
Restricted Diet (Heavy Metals) (Common) [-20]
Short Lifespan (-1) [-10]
Unusual Biochemistry [-5]
Wealth (Poor) [-20]

Quirks [-5]
Rogh speak like this [-1]
Rogh cannot float [-1]
Rogh think human puny [-1]
Rogh like rock [-1]
Rogh like things that go BOOM! [-1]

Skills [26]
Armoury/TL9 (Heavy Weapons) IQ/A - IQ+0 9 [2]
Artillery/TL9 (Cannon) IQ/A - IQ+0 9 [2]
Axe/Mace DX/A - DX+1 13 [4]
Brawling DX/E - DX+1 13 [2]
Driving/TL9 (Motorcycle) DX/A - DX-1 11 [1]
Explosives/TL9 (Demolition) IQ/A - IQ+1 10 [4]
Geology/TL9 (Earthlike) IQ/H - IQ-2 7 [1]
Geology/TL9 (Rock Worlds) IQ/H - IQ-1 8 [2]
Gunner/TL9 (Cannon) DX/E - DX+0 12 [1]
Gunner/TL9 (Machine Gun) DX/E - DX+1 13 [2]
Guns/TL9 (Grenade Launcher) DX/E - DX+0 12 [1]
Guns/TL9 (Shotgun) DX/E - DX+0 12 [1]
Intimidation Will/A - Will-1 9 [1]
Musical Instrument (Drums) IQ/A - IQ-1 8 [1]
Scrounging Per/E - Per+0 11 [1]

Stats [159] Ads [164] Disads [-95] Quirks [-5] Skills [26] = Total [250]

Hand Weapons
1  Monoblade Axe LC:4  $500  Wgt:4  
    Dam:4d+4 (10) cut  Reach:1  Parry:0U  ST:11  Skill:Axe/Mace, DX-5, Flail-4, Two-Handed Axe/Mace-3  

Ranged Weapons
10  Hand Grenade, 64mm  LC:1  Dam:0   Acc:0  Range:77  
    RoF:1  Shots:T(1)  ST:5  Bulk:-1  Rcl:  $400  Wgt:10  
1  Heavy Chaingun, 15mmCL  LC:1  Dam:15d pi+  Acc:6  Range:2000 / 9000  
    RoF:12  Shots:50(5)  ST:20M  Bulk:-8  Rcl:2  $34000  Wgt:75  
1  Mortar Box, 40mmPLB  LC:1  Dam:1d pi++  Acc:2  Range:75 / 450  
    RoF:4x4  Shots:16(20)  ST:12M  Bulk:-6  Rcl:1  $1000  Wgt:12  
1  Shotgun Pistol, 18.5mmPC  LC:3  Dam:4d pi++  Acc:1  Range:100 / 500  
    RoF:3  Shots:5+1(3)/0.7  ST:10  Bulk:-3  Rcl:5  $220  Wgt:4  
1  Grenade Launcher, 40mmPLB  LC:1  Dam:1d pi++  Acc:2  Range:75 / 450  
    RoF:3  Shots:5(5)/2  ST:10  Bulk:-  Rcl:1  $200  Wgt:3  

Armor & Possessions
1  Assault Boots (TL  9)  $100  Wgt:3  Location:feet  
1  Reflex Gloves  $20  Wgt:0  Location:hands  
1  Reflex Tactical Vest  $600  Wgt:9  Location:torso, groin  
1  Reflex Tactical Vest trauma plates  $300  Wgt:9  Location:torso  
1  Reflex Trousers  $187  Wgt:2.8  Location:groin, legs[/spoiler]

Luke Vozzo McBurney

See this blade, bruce? My old man lined it with mono so's in a pinch he could slash through an ambushing standover spider's armor. His old man carved the blade from a truck spring, to defend his armageddon-sheltered family from raiders and zombie mutant koala bears. I've gutted more cunts with it than I can count. It's the Vozzo way. Vigilance runs in my blood, mate. Sharp eyes, hard yakka, twitchy trigger finger. Only way to stay afloat nowadays.

Yeah, I've been around, seen the world and all that. See, I specialise in helping wankers cark it for cash. I feel at home in most shades of blue but right now I go after vampos mostly, bash up the teethies and sell their rotten hearts to dumb rich blokes can't get it up. Pay right big bickies, y'know. Work's a piss in the woods with a smidgeon of bushman's corpsebane at hand - shit blows 'em away like bloody T for the price of piss. Trick I learnt in the Legion, see? Yeah, I was a digger. 'S how I left Aussie in the first place. Rusties maybe a pack of drongo figjams, but least they keep order in the house. I'd take them anyday over the maggoty crow eaters or God forbid, the bleedin' Abos bunging up the joint with their xenie mumbo jumbo. And not least, they pay well.

Dog? What dog? That's a Tassie Tiger, bruce. No, he's not dangerous, less you act like a wuss or a wowser. Or a wanker, heh.

[spoiler=Sheet]Name: Luke Vozzo McBurney
Concept: Wanderer-merc from the land down under
Race: Human
Age: 34
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 175 lbs.
Appearance: A lanky, sinewy, sunburnt man with a slouch hat.

Attributes [130]
ST 11 [10]
DX 13 [60]
IQ 12 [40]
HT 12 [20]

HP 11
Will 12
Per 13 [5]
FP 12

Basic Lift 24
Damage 1d-1/1d+1

Basic Speed 6 [-5]
Basic Move 6

Ground Move 6
Water Move 1

Social Background
TL: 10

Cultural Familiarities:
Languages: Australian English (Native)

Advantages [60]
Ally (Stanley the Thylacine) (25% or less of starting points) [2]
Ambidexterity [5]
Combat Reflexes [15]
High Pain Threshold [10]
Outdoorsman (1) [10]
Signature Gear (Guns) (3) [3]
Very Fit [15]

Perks [1]
Weapon Bond (Ol' Molly) [1]

Disadvantages [-42]
Addiction (Tobacco) (Cheap) (Highly addictive; Legal) [-5]
Code of Honor (Mercenary's) [-10]
Missing Digit (Missing Finger) [-2]
Odious Personal Habit (Unwashed bushwhacker) [-5]
Stubbornness [-5]
Truthfulness (12 or less) [-5]
Wealth (Struggling) [-10]

Quirks [-5]
Aloof [-1]
Always carries a jar of Vegemite [-1]
Chauvinistic [-1]
Disdains wizardry [-1]
Pragmatic [-1]

Skills [106]
Acrobatics DX/H - DX-2 11 [1]
Animal Handling (Dinosaurs) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Animal Handling (Marsupials) IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Area Knowledge (Amazon) IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Area Knowledge (Sub-Saharan Africa) IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Armoury/TL10 (Melee Weapons) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Armoury/TL10 (Small Arms) IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Beam Weapons/TL10 (Pistol) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Beam Weapons/TL10 (Projector) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Beam Weapons/TL10 (Rifle) DX/E - DX+3 16 [8]
Blowpipe DX/H - DX-2 11 [1]
Boating/TL10 (Hydrofoils) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Boating/TL10 (Sailboat) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Body Language (Human) Per/A - Per-1 12 [1]
Bow DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Brawling DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Camouflage IQ/E - IQ+2 14 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Carpentry IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Cartography/TL10 IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Climbing DX/A - DX+0 13 [2]
Computer Operation/TL10 IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Cooking IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Current Affairs/TL10 (Sports) IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Detect Lies Per/H - Per-2 11 [1]
Diagnosis/TL10 (Human) IQ/H - IQ-2 10 [1]
Diplomacy IQ/H - IQ-2 10 [1]
Disguise/TL10 IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Driving/TL10 (Automobile) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Driving/TL10 (Halftrack) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Driving/TL10 (Hovercraft) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Electrician/TL10 IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Communications) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Security) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Electronics Operation/TL10 (Sensors) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Electronics Repair/TL10 (Communications) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Escape DX/H - DX-2 11 [1]
Esoteric Medicine Per/H - Per-2 11 [1]
Explosives/TL10 (Demolition) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Fast-Draw/TL10 (Ammo) DX/E - DX+1 14 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Combat Reflexes'
Fast-Draw (Knife) DX/E - DX+1 14 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Combat Reflexes'
Fast-Draw (Long Arm) DX/E - DX+1 14 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Combat Reflexes'
Fast-Draw (Pistol) DX/E - DX+1 15 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Combat Reflexes'
First Aid/TL10 IQ/E - IQ+0 13 [1]
Fishing Per/E - Per+1 14 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Forced Entry DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Gambling IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Gunner/TL10 (Machine Gun) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Grenade Launcher) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Gyroc) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Pistol) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Rifle) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Guns/TL10 (Submachine Gun) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Hiking HT/A - HT+0 12 [2]
Holdout IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Interrogation IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Intimidation Will/A - Will+0 12 [2]
Knife DX/E - DX+1 14 [2]
Lip Reading (Human) Per/A - Per-1 12 [1]
Mechanic/TL10 (Automobile) IQ/A - IQ-1 11 [1]
Mimicry (Animal Sounds) IQ/H - IQ-1 11 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Musical Instrument (Harmonica) IQ/H - IQ-2 10 [1]
Naturalist IQ/H - IQ+0 12 [2]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Navigation/TL10 (Land) IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Observation Per/A - Per+0 13 [2]
Savoir-Faire (Military) IQ/E - IQ+0 12 [1]
Scrounging Per/E - Per+1 14 [2]
Search Per/A - Per-1 12 [1]
Soldier/TL10 IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Sports (Surfing) DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Stealth DX/A - DX+0 13 [2]
Survival (Desert) Per/A - Per+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Survival (Jungle) Per/A - Per+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Survival (Mountain) Per/A - Per+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Survival (Radioactive Wasteland) Per/A - Per+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Swimming HT/E - HT+0 12 [1]
Tactics IQ/H - IQ-1 11 [2]
Throwing DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]
Thrown Weapon (Stick) DX/E - DX+0 13 [1]
Tracking Per/A - Per+0 13 [1]
   includes: +1 from 'Outdoorsman'
Traps/TL10 IQ/A - IQ+0 12 [2]
Veterinary/TL10 (Dogs) IQ/H - IQ-2 10 [1]
Wrestling DX/A - DX-1 12 [1]

Stats [130] Ads [60] Disads [-42] Quirks [-5] Skills [106] = Total [250]

Hand Weapons
1  Monoblade Bowie Knife (Large)  LC:4  $1200  Wgt:1.5  
    knife swing  Dam:1d+2 (10) cut  Reach:C, 1  Parry:0  ST:7  Skill:Sword!, Knife, DX-4, Force Sword-3, Main-Gauche-3, Shortsword-3  
    knife thrust  Dam:1d-1 (10) imp  Reach:C, 1  Parry:0  ST:7  Skill:Sword!, Knife, DX-4, Force Sword-3, Main-Gauche-3, Shortsword-3  
    shortsword swing  Dam:1d+2 (10) cut  Reach:1  Parry:0  ST:7  Skill:Sword!, Shortsword, DX-5, Broadsword-2, Force Sword-4, Jitte/Sai-3, Knife-4, Saber-4, Smallsword-4, Tonfa-3  
    shortsword thrust  Dam:1d-1 (10) imp  Reach:C, 1  Parry:0  ST:7  Skill:Sword!, Shortsword, DX-5, Broadsword-2, Force Sword-4, Jitte/Sai-3, Knife-4, Saber-4, Smallsword-4, Tonfa-3  

Ranged Weapons
1  Gauss Machine Pistol, 4mm  LC:2  Dam:3d (3) pi-  Acc:3  Range:500 / 2100  
    RoF:20  Shots:40(3)  ST:9  Bulk:-2  Rcl:2  $1700  Wgt:3  Notes:[2]  
1  Gyroc Launch Pistol, 15mm  LC:3  Dam:6d pi++  Acc:1  Range:1900  
    RoF:3  Shots:6(3)  ST:10  Bulk:-2  Rcl:1  $300  Wgt:2  
4  Hand Grenade, 64mm  LC:1  Dam:0   Acc:0  Range:38  
    RoF:1  Shots:T(1)  ST:5  Bulk:-1  Rcl:  $160  Wgt:4  
1  Heavy Laser Pistol  LC:3  Dam:4d (2) burn  Acc:6  Range:300 / 900  
    RoF:10  Shots:56(3)/2C  ST:6  Bulk:-2  Rcl:1  $2400  Wgt:3.3  
1  Laser Rifle (Ol' Molly) & ETS  LC:2  Dam:2d+2 (2) burn  Acc:12  Range:1150 / 2300  
    RoF:1  Shots:30(3)  ST:8'   Bulk:-5  Rcl:1  $13000  Wgt:12  Notes:[3]  
6  Mini Hand Grenade, 40mm  LC:1  Dam:0   Acc:0  Range:38  
    RoF:1  Shots:T(1)  ST:5  Bulk:-1  Rcl:  $60  Wgt:1.5  
1  Sonic Stunner  LC:4  Dam:HT-2 (5) aff  Acc:1  Range:10 / 30  
    RoF:1  Shots:22(3)/B  ST:3  Bulk:-1  Rcl:1  $120  Wgt:.3  
6  Thimble Grenade, 25mm  LC:1  Dam:0   Acc:0  Range:38  
    RoF:1  Shots:T(1)  ST:5  Bulk:-1  Rcl:  $15  Wgt:.36  
1  Underbarrel EMGL, 25mmG  LC:1  Dam:4d pi++  Acc:4+2  Range:360 / 2200  
    RoF:1  Shots:3(3)  ST:10  Bulk:-  Rcl:2  $1000  Wgt:2  Notes:[3]  

Armor & Possessions
100  4mm Electromag Gun Ammunition  $6  Wgt:.6  Location:  
3  A cell  $6  Wgt:.015  Location:  
1  Armored Shades (TL10)  $100  Wgt:.1  Location:eyes  
1  Assault Boots (TL 10)  $150  Wgt:3  Location:feet  
3  B cell  $9  Wgt:.15  Location:  
5  C cell  $50  Wgt:2.5  Location:  
1  Drysuit  $200  Wgt:5  Location:all  
1  Filter Mask  $100  Wgt:3  Location:eyes, face  
1  Gill Suit  $2000  Wgt:10  Location:all  
1  Nanoweave Trench Coat  $900  Wgt:6  Location:body, limbs
1  Nanoweave Slouch Hat  $100  Wgt:0.5  Location:skull  
1  Nanoweave Tacsuit  $3000  Wgt:15  Location:all  [/spoiler]