
-------- TML Message #171 --------

Date: Wed, 19 Oct 88 14:58:47 cdt
From: (Brett Slocum) uunet.uu.net!hi-csc!slocum@tektronix
Subject: re: Tech Levels
Archive-Message-Number: 171


Actually, "Space Opera" was published by FGU (Fantasy Games Unlimited)
the publishers of Chivalry and Sorcery, Bushido, and other games.

BTW, Space Opera has one of the MOST tedious character design systems
I've ever seen.  My first character took me 5 hours to complete, and
even after I got used to the system, it still took me 1.5 hours.  And
this is coming from someone who played Chivalry and Sorcery for 6 years
(Another system renowned for its complex character generation system.)
The problem is that each skill is so interdependant with other skills,
that you can't figure out your skill level in one skill, until you
know your skill level in all of your other skills; kind of a catch-22.

Perhaps my dislike for this game was accentuated by the fact that
the group I was playing it with at the time was using it as a means
for extremes of Power Gaming, with Dark Lords.  Basically, everyone
had a Dark Lord, of equal or greater power than Darth Vader.  Very
boring.

Brett Slocum   UUCP: ...uunet!hi-csc!slocum
               Arpa: slocum@hi-csc.honeywell.com
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

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-------- TML Message #172 --------

Date: Thu, 20 Oct 88 14:46:36 PDT
From: fpssun!spock!spock@tektronix.UUCP (Richard Johnson ext 2594)
Subject: An idea! jump gates.
Archive-Message-Number: 172


_____________________________________________________________________
I invite your comments on the following idea.  Let's get some
discussion going.

It seems reasonable that about TL 13 or so, (maybe higher) someone
would figure out how to create a permanent space-base whose purpose
is to generate a hyperspace field that interacts with the hyperspace
field of a ship.  The result of the interaction is a new field whose
size and intensity are determined by the interaction of the original
two fields.

What this device does is enable a ship to jump with a smaller internal
fuel expenditure.  The remainder of the fuel required for a given
jump is consumed by the jump gate.  For example, if it is 4 parsecs
from system A to system B, and system A has a gate, then by using the
gate, your ship requires only the fuel required for jump 1; the gate
requires fuel for the total jump (inefficiencies). 

_______________________________________________________________________
notes and thoughts:

Wealthy systems would want to subsidize some of these, and set them on
"standard" routes (that is make nav tapes for the trade lanes readily
available).

They present an interesting military target/opportunity/... Would YOU
be willing to destroy one?  Try to hold it against an invading fleet?

These "jump gates" should be *very* expensive, if only for game balance. 
They also would require a *lot* of fuel and maintenance.

Should the output field be controlled by the using ship's computer or 
by someone/something on board the gate? 

The difficulty of using one of these should the the same as for making
a normal jump of the total distance (not 1), if the pilot AND the 
navigator have experience.  The standard non-profieciency penalties
should apply; JOT should not apply.

JOT should apply for learning how to use one of these, though.

Using one of these does not mean a jump 4 cruiser can make a jump 24.
As it says somewhere semi-official, no one has discovered anything
more than a jump 6.  No range benefits, just fuel and possibly time.

______________________________________________________________________

So what do you think?  
It would be nice to "flesh this out" and see if it's usable.
Direct e-mail I get on this, I will forward to the list (unless
its obscene or something).

Fare well for now, fellow travellers.
Richard

________________________________________________________________________

Richard Johnson
FPS Computing, Beaverton Oregon			home:(503)640-9209
(standard disclaimers)				work:(503)641-3151
UUCP: ...tektronix!fpssun!spock

either or both are unskilled

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-------- TML Message #173 --------

Subject: Re: An idea! jump gates.
Date: 20 Oct 88 16:56:52 PDT (Thu)
From: Rob Vetter (Controlled, Calm, Concerned) <rob@amadeus.LA>
Archive-Message-Number: 173



	Shades of the _Buck_Rogers_ TV show, but I like the idea.  The
	idea of "jump" is pretty loosley defined in Traveller, and I
	don't see too many problems in incorporating it.

	What about the corporate aspects?  Initially, they'd probably
	be built by some of the big ship corporations.  They've already
	got a corner on the jump market.  Those that couldn't copy,
	create, or steal the production process would push heavily for
	regulation.  (The First Corporate Wars?)

	If the process is pretty straight forward, what of the
	expense?  The organization that builds or commisions to build
	one will have to recoup the losses.  That'd mean that jumps
	would probably cost a little more.  Probably direct debit
	stations at the gate - at widely varying rates.

	It seems that if these are implemented, demand for higher jump
	ships will drop.  Are the prices on all ships going to rise to
	cut expected losses?  Or will the bottom drop out of the jump-6
	ship market completely?

	As a somewhat evil GM, I see all kinds of opportunities to
	force traffic to or around certain places.  Also, there's much
	more opportunity for the tax collectors, mafia hit men,
	corporate raiders, military police, etc. to trace those
	characters and find them.

	To use this thing as a player, you probably have to call in,
	tell where you're going, what heading you have set, and the
	approximate jump "strength" your ship will use.  The
	"gatekeepers" will then debit your account and match your
	course with the additional power.

> 
> Should the output field be controlled by the using ship's computer or 
> by someone/something on board the gate? 

	The gatekeeper probably has the power to assist a much larger
	ship than your 100 ton scout.  He can put you practically
	anywhere he wants to.  If you were playing in my game would you
	trust YOUR computer or MINE.
> 
> The difficulty of using one of these should the the same as for making
> a normal jump of the total distance (not 1), if the pilot AND the 
> navigator have experience.  The standard non-profieciency penalties
> should apply; JOT should not apply.

	Mis-jumps are much more likely - multiply your mis-jump rate by
	that of the gatekeeper.

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-------- TML Message #174 --------

Date: Fri, 21 Oct 88 08:59 CST
From: (James Johannesson) JOHANNESSON%SASK.USask.CA@cornellc.ccs.cornell.edu
Subject: RE: An idea! Jump gates
Archive-Message-Number: 174


Hi Everyone;

   I think the general idea is great!!!! The adventure possibilities are endless
for a group. Imagine trying to stop a group of terrorist planning to destroy
the base, or pirates trying to take one over to jump at will to nearby systems
allowing them to easily jump back because they aren't using as much fuel.
Great stuff!

   The biggest thing about one of these would be the cost envolved in running
it. Rich worlds (or worlds with strategic value for the Navy -- such as a
Naval Depot) would have them. The amount of fuel would be excessive for large
traffic areas. (But then again how fuel is there in a large gas giant 8-).

   Ideally a jump gate would be located close to a Gas Giant to allow for cheap
fuel. The Jump gate would have to allow for cheap "mining" of the gas giant
(i.e. skimming of fuel).

   I could probably add more but the mind is working (too early yet). BTW,
is there anything new out yet for Mega-Trav or Traveller from GDW? I haven't
been down to the local gamer's shop in a while.

James Johannesson                 | Bitnet:  JOHANNESSON@SASK
Consultant                        | Internet: johannesson@sask.usask.ca
User Support & Training           | UUCP:  !dvinci!johann
Computing Services                | MAIL:  56 Physics
University of Saskatchewan        |        University of Saskatchewan
Saskatoon, Canada                 |        S7N-0W0
Phone: (306) 966-4838             | "We're Back"

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-------- TML Message #175 --------

Date: Thu, 27 Oct 88 13:17:35 PDT
From: fpssun!spock!spock@tektronix.UUCP (Richard Johnson ext 2594)
Subject: A story,  chapter 1: Shangai
Archive-Message-Number: 175


- ------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was really chilly in here this morning, and it got me to thinking 
about being much colder yet.

Let me know if you want me to continue this, or to shut up now..:-)

Richard
_________________________________________________________________________


"Overdid the buzz a little last night," Braen thought, as he slowly opened
his eyes.  "Left the light on, too."  This was the worst Braen had ever
felt after a night carousing.  His eyes wouldn't focus, he ached all over, 
he couldn't move, and he was cold.  Cold like he'd never felt before.
So cold his bones hurt.  

But he couldn't shiver.  In fact, he couldn't move at all.  "Keep calm" 
he told himself.  "I can feel myself breathing, that's one.  I can kind
of make out shapes, so my eyelids work.  I don't smell anything, whatever
that's worth.  Well, they say smell is the most primal sense, hmm.  Back
to work.  I can make out shapes, so at least some of my optic nerve is 
intact, as well as a large portion of my central brain.  I'm thinking...how 
can I think when I'm SO DAMN COLD! Well, I think I'm thinking, so my frontal 
lobes must be at least partially OK.  

"Let's save brain functions for later.  Let's see, smell, sight, temperature
(I think), that leaves hearing, touch, taste, motor control, time sense, and
balance.  All I can hear is this silly ringing.  Sounds like a 60 Hz hum and
a 1 KHz whistle.  Funny, I didn't notice it a minute ago.  Maybe I'm waking
up.  Can I open and close my eyes?  Yep. Still no focus though.  Gawd I'm cold.

"How 'bout taste.  Hmm, I can't move anything, but concentrating on it, my
mouth tastes like a catalytic converter smells first thing in the morning.
It's so cold.  If I could move I'd set myself on fire.  Hey, I'm shivering!
So much to testing motor control.  Do I remember what I'm thinking about?
Yeah, if I'm alive or dead, or dying.  Time sense, well at least memory,
is starting to work.

"What's that I smell?  Smell?  Maybe I'll open my eyes again...No, too tired.
I'll just go back to sleep and die."
 
                  ***          ***            ***

"There's that smell again.  Dammit, just when the dream was getting good!  
It's cold again, too!."

"Don't just lay there, start movin', you bunch o' barbaric bargylls!"  

Braen thought he heard a strange voice shouting at him.  "Must be part
of that wierd dream-within-a-dream thing," he thought.  "Probably some
after-effect of that new stuff I tried last night. Might as well wake
up now and get moving, shake off some of this cold."  The man tried to
stretch his arms and emit his customary welcome-to-the-world good morning
sigh.  All he got was a healf-hearted moan.

"If you don't get movin, there won't be enough of this tub left to drag 
back for scrap; and you'll be with it!"

There was that strange voice again.  "Oh well, lets roll out and see 
what's going on."  

Braen was used to strange voices in the middle of the night and early in 
the morning.  The crowded flat he shared with six other people, two couples, 
who all had different schedules.  Not that it much mattered.  The church 
took care of all their needs, so most of their time was spent attending to
the service of the Great One, wandering, partying, reading, and sleeping. 

Just as Braen was about to move, the whole world shook with a deafening
roar.  People all around were screaming.  Braen fell almost a meter onto
cold steel.  Something sharp momentarily tugged at the inside of his right 
elbow.  Something else was gripping his face.  He groaned softly and tried
to look around.  His head barely moved.  Everything went black.

                      ***          ***            ***

This time the smell was different.  So was the voice.  Braen did not even
try to understand the words; it was obviously some kind of drug-induced
hallucination.  He'd heard those kinds of nonsense syllables before.  He
was cold again!  "Dammit, I just gotta get that heater fixed," he said to
himself.  His mouth still tasted terrible, his ears were still ringing and
he still couldn't move.  Braen opened his eyes.  Although fuzzy, the image
was clearly a woman standing above him.  There was that strange language
again.  She reached out and gently closed his eyes.

"Wow, what a dream.  I gotta write this one down and tell our confessor. 
It could go in the Records."  His left arm started feeling very warm. Wherever 
the warmth went pain was quickly following. The fuzzy woman touched something 
very warm and very wet to his lips.  "I'm finally in heaven," Braen whispered.  

The woman, tall with golden brown hair said something strange again.  Then
she said something almost normal-sounding, then something really queer and
odd-sounding.  

"Are you talking to me?" Braen asked, again just a hoarse whisper.  "Can
I have some more to drink?"

"Do you understand me now?" the woman asked.  Braen's face felt like it was
working, felt kind of like someone else feeling astonishment.  It was 
beginning to get warm and was smarting all over. She smiled.  She slipped a 
small tube of some strange texture into the corner of his mouth.  "Sip on t
his verrry slowly," she said, stretching the word almost to tomorrow.

"Rest now," she continued "while we thaw you out.  Doctor Llewllyn will
want to talk with you soon enough."  The warmth was slowly flooding his 
chest now and the pain, while not severe was becoming really annoying.
Despite his efforts to stay awake, he really wanted to rest, just like the
fuzzy woman with the nice voice said.  

"What a nice place," he thought. "What a woman.  She's almost hypnotic.
Hypnotic!  Why the..." but he was already asleep.

- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2: Braen Awakens (if you decide you want it...)

- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richard Johnson
FPS Computing, Beaverton Oregon
Standard disclaimers...

(with apologies to the Moody Blues)
"travelling is the best way to think"












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-------- TML Message #176 --------

Date: Fri, 28 Oct 88 09:09:15 PDT
From: fpssun!spock!spock@tektronix.UUCP (Richard Johnson ext 2594)
Subject: story: chapter 2
Archive-Message-Number: 176


Here's chapter two.  This really is a Traveller adventure, the character
development is important right now.  (I originally expected just a short
thing, but we've only begun.)  Writing is a little different from GM'ing,
I get to make all the characters do whatever *I* want :-).

Have fun.

Richard.
- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2: Braen awakens

Braen's right arm felt like he'd hit it with a club.  "Must've rolled
over on it in my sleep," he thought.  "But I'm on my back.  Oh, yeah
I can't move.  I screwed myself up and I've been having these hallu-
cinations.  The confessor's gonna love some of this stuff."

He opened his eyes.  He glanced about the room, not even trying
to move anything but his eyes.  The room was indirectly lit, from where
was not immediately obvious.  There was enough light to see, but not
enough to read, and it was a peculiar color anyway.  He was alone in the
room.  Around the walls were various kinds of strange equipment.  The
room smelled antiseptically clean.

"A hospital," he thought, "I should have known.  Julien put me up to
that party, and doped me so she could get my sack space.  Then she turned
me in."  It was customary for invalids to become the ward of the church 
and spend the remainder of their days transcribing doctrine.  Not Baen's
idea of a good time, especially since he was young.

He was mad.  He clenched and unclenched his teeth and fists in rage.  
"I'll get that bitch!" he quitely cursed.  "Wait!  I just moved my hands."
There's nothing quite like both pain and surprise to temporarily pre-
occupy you.  He looked down at his arm and slowly moved the sheet aside
with his left.

A gauze pad was taped to the inside of his left elbow.  Around it was 
the unmistakable darkening of a large bruise.  In the center of the pad
was a small spreading stain, unmistakably his own blood.  The pain,
combined with the view, was agonizing.  "Yecch," he said, and quietly laid
back on the pillow to think things through.  "Well how bout that, he said
aloud.  I can move, AND I'm finaly warm."

The lights began to slowly brighten and the door opened.  A short, dark-
skinned man, about 30 by his appearance came through and pulled the chart
from the end of the bed.  "Ah, good you're awake.  Now we can get the
gravity back to normal and get you fed.  Someone will be here with some-
thing for you to eat shortly.

As the door closed behind the short man, Braen felt the familiar tug of
gravity and the resistance of the bed to his weight.  "THAT'S what was
missing," he thought.  "How'd they do it?  What else have they been
keeping from the faithful?  Did the Great One return and them hide it?

Presently the door again opened and a fairly massive-looking dinner
tray silently glided into the room.  It sailed over to the bed and
hovered while the bed behind Braen's back and shoulders raised him to 
an almost-seated position.  "Is that far enough?" asked a disembodied
voice.

"Yeah, yeah" replied Braen.  "This is going to take some getting used
to."  

"Would you like a translator and some crysals to study?"  The tray unfolded
legs beneath itself like aircraft landing gear.  It then slowly drifted over
the bed and extended the legs to the floor.  "Is my height satisfactory?"

"Y-yes" Braen stammered.

"Is that in response to the first question or the second?" asked the
tray.

"Oh," Braen replied, recovering his senses, "the second.  I'd like you
to answer some questions before I answer the first."

"Very well, but first you have to eat.  Orders of Doctor Llewellyn."

"What've you got?" the man asked.

"For you, a very large glass of what the crew calls 'slime 'n' squeeze'
and a small pastry.  You are instructed to ingest all of these."  The
tray magically sprouted an arm from somewhere.  An unnoticed panel slid
all the way to the rear, revealing the contents of the tray (one
large glass filled with a bronze colored liquid and one small pastry, both 
on a small plate).  The arm reached into a hidden cul-de-sac, sprouted two 
'fingers' and removed a straw.  It then slipped the straw into the glass 
and disappeared.  

Braen sat momentarily stunned.  This whole setup is nothing like he'd ever
contemplated, never mind expected.  In all, it was a bit much for a young,
inexperienced man just recovering from trauma, hypthermia, culture shock,
and technology shock.

"Please eat now," the tray said "before your food cools."

Gingerly, Braen touched the straw to his lips and sipped.  The drink was
not quite like anything he had ever tasted. It was served warm but not hot.  
It smelled like citric fruit and tasted like soy beans. But for all that, 
it was really wlecome, and it did wonders to cure the nagging metalic
taste that had been with him all morning.  He took a real drink.  It
seemed to have an analgesic in it, too.  Or maybe it was the chicken
soup syndrome that eased the pain not only in his arm, but throughout
his body.

"What is this?" he asked the tray as he picked up the pastry.  The "pastry"
was a pretty tasteless mass of something that sort of half-way melted in 
his mouth and stuck to everything inside it.

"I presume you are talking about the pastry," the tray responded.  "It and
the drink are a scientifically designed, balanced blend of liquid electro-
lytes, carbohydrates, vitamins, and amino acids.  They work together to speed 
healing and are extremely easy to digest.  There are almost no waste products.
In your case, the doctor added a general analagesic and a general antibiotic.
Ask your questions."

Now that he was both waking up and beginning to get some energy Braen
realized he was truly hungry.  "Where am I?" he managed to squeeze out
around the pastry-mush.

"I do not know our present location.  We, collectively, are on a starship"

"WHAT THE ..!" Braen chocked out involuntarily.  The tray remained silent
and unmoving.  Braen swallowed hard and took a deep breath.  This could
be a test of the inquisitor.  His Confessor had warned them all of the
inquisitor, and so he a took a few moments to speak clearly.  "Travel to 
the stars is impossible.  That's written in every one of our chatecisms 
from even before we learn to read."

"Really!?"  Finally, the tray seemed genuinely interested.  "What catecisms
are those?"

Braen's thoughts now raced, "Got to think smart, think clearly, and remember
all that drivel they drilled into my head for so many years."  Slowly he
answered. 
	"Five years creche,
         Seven years school,
         Three years prep,
         Two years tool."
just like he'd been taught.  It was something everyone learned through years
of drill and corporal punishment.

"Do you believe all you've been taught?"

"Certainly" Braen quickly, and automatically replied.

"Where are you from?"  the tray asked, putting away the empty dishes.

"Surely you know.  But for the record, Haildrun."

The tray continued disposing of dishes and began silently retracting its
landing gear.  It quickly sped toward the door, the door opening at its 
approach.  It paused.  "And what is the name of our blessed world?" it
asked.

"Why, Omigosh" replied Braen as the door closed.  Slowly the bed returned
to a horizontal position, and Braen felt himself again mostly, but not
completely lifted off the sheets.  "Oh well, he thought, "I didn't feel
much like doing anything but sleeping anyway."
- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter:  Dr. Llewellyn
- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richard Johnson
FPS Computing, Beaverton Oregon

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-------- TML Message #177 --------

Date: Wed, 26 Oct 88 07:48:32 +0100
From: ("Hans Rancke-Madsen.") uunet.uu.net!mcvax!diku.dk!rancke@tektronix
Subject: My campaign
Archive-Message-Number: 177


  Before we get to the main body of this submission (in which I
solicit help with my Traveller campaign) there's a small matter
to take  care of first:  One of my players,  Sven Munther,  has
recently joined this mailing list.  Would you, when replying to
this posting, do us the favour of marking the submission plain-
ly  (like "Rancke's campaign" or "No peeking,  Svend") so Svend
can avoid getting any  forewarning of the horrors awaiting him?

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-------- TML Message #178 --------

Date: Wed, 26 Oct 88 13:20 EDT
From: EHT%PSUARCH.BITNET@cunyvm.cuny.edu
Subject: Re: An idea! jump gates.
Archive-Message-Number: 178


In-Reply-To:  your letter rec'd 21-OCT-1988 01:25


JumpGates, eh?  Hmmmmm.  I like it.  My first thought when I read the note
was to arrange it so you didn't need a jump engine on the ship at all.  Just
secondaries to get you around in the system.  This would allow you to save
space and money on the jump drives.  With the extra cargo/passenger space you
could lower your rates for transport.  This would allow you to sell more space
to people who could not afford it before, thereby raising your volume of
business.

Then I re-read your note.  You say that a jump drive is still necessary on
board the ship.  Whyso?  If you set up the gate as a ring (or some other
enclosed polygon) would not any matter entering it be jumped?  Assuming
it was turned on, of course.  What do the rest of you think?  This would allow
you to jump whole asteroids from system to system as raw materials...or
weapons.  "We could throw rocks at them..." --The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

Finally, I believe this concept wouldn't be developed until higher tech levels.
Say 15 or 16.  The technology is significantly different...instead of jumping
the engine (and whats attached to it, i.e. the ship), you are jumping what is
NOT the engine (i.e. what the engine encloses).  What do the rest of you think?

That's all for now.  From the bridge of the NOMAD.

"You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
I've been living on the edge so long, where the winds of limbo roar
And I'm young enough to look at, and far too old to see
All the scars are on the inside, I don't know if there's anything left of me..."

Captain Sir Michael Talmoth,  UPP:  BA5A8B
    AKA Paul Baughman
        AKA Unka Paul   ----> EHT@psuarch.bitnet

SnailMail:
    511-A  West Drive
    Boalsburg, PA   16827

DirectConnect:  (814) 466-6268

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-------- TML Message #179 --------

Subject: Rancke campiagn (Sven Munther don't look!)
Date: 31 Oct 88 08:08:25 PST (Mon)
From: jamesp
Archive-Message-Number: 179



Here's the rest of Hans Rancke-Madsen's message, which didn't get attached
to the end of his last list-message.  Really interesting stuff...

James

- ----------------------------------------------------------------------
James T. Perkins		Traveller Mailing List Administrator
Tektronix Logic Analyzers	"Load Auto/Evade, Beowulf!"
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- ------- Forwarded Message

Date:  Mon, 31 Oct 88 00:14:07 +0100
From: "Hans Rancke-Madsen." <uunet.uu.net!mcvax!diku.dk!rancke@tektronix>
Message-Id:  <8810302314.AA04313@diku.dk>
To: traveller-request@dadla.LA.TEK.com
Subject: Re: My campaign

... [dropped out little header material here -- James]

Oops. It seems that the body of the text didn't make it. Sorry
about that. Here it comes:


(OK, Sven, hit "n" now.)




  I've been  running  a  traveller campaign with a friend for a
couple  of years now,  and we've decided to involve our players
in the ever-popular "Riddle of the Ancients".  But we have some
problems with that.

  For one thing, neither of us are particularily enamoured with
the official version of the riddle. We find it... unconvincing,
to say the least. And not only unlikely, which would not matter
- - -  would indeed be a plus  -  if the story was a good one,  but
uncommonly bland and anticlimatic.

  You  may  disagree  about this,  but even if we had liked the
official version;  even if it had been marvelously well-crafted
and intricate tale, a veritable tour-de-force, a masterpiece of
poetic imagination,  it would still  have one  absolutely fatal
flaw: the players know it beforehand.

  So what we've done is to whomp up an alternate version of the
riddle.  We've tried to keep as many of the clues that has been
puplished  in various Traveller adventures as possible,  but we
are not fanatic about it, since our players hasen't encountered
any of the clues yet. What I'd like to ask you, is to point out
weaknesses of the story  (preferably with suggestions on how to
plug the holes)  and especially  suggest embellishments of your
own.  It is our ambition to make  this story the crowning point
of the campaign,  and to provide something **really** memorable
for our players.

  OK, here it is,

               The TRUE Secret of the Ancients!

(Well, ya didn't REALLY believe the one about Grandfather, didya?)

  There were  TWO  ancient races,  and neither of them were the
droyne.  The first were the MASTERS,  amoeboid 4-kilo parasites
capable of taking up residence inside another creature and con-
trolling it's bodily functions  (anybody recoqnize these little
slimeballs? Well, I'm not above borrowing from a master). For a
number of reasons  they preferred  intelligent hosts,  and they
enslaved  most of the  known part  of our galaxy,  annexing the
technology  of their slaves in the process  (this is the reason
for all those diverging technologies found on different Ancient
sites). They experimented on human, lupine and other stock from
Terra and on  numerous other races  from other worlds  in their
efforts to produce  the perfect subject.  They were  altogether
extremely not-nice, and if anyone wonders why I don't call them
Slavers and be done with it, it's because "slavers" is quite an
ackward word in danish.
  To the reptiloid 'STREE,  the manners, outlook, pilosophy and
behaviour of the  Masters  were an  abomination.  Their genetic
manipulations were downright blasphemous. Added to this was the
fact that Masters reproduced about once a century by fissioning
and seemingly lived forever (barring accident or violence).  As
anybody familiar with geometric progressions will know, that is
nothing less than a catastrophy waiting for a chance to happen.
The Masters firm resolve  to enslave any being they could  (and
exterminate any being they couldn't) was real unpopular too. So
shortly after the first  contact with the Masters,  the  'stree
quietly began organizing an extermination program of their own.
  The  'stree was an extremely old race even 300.000 years ago.
They had  been  mostly confined  to  their own planet  by their
concentration  on the social  and psionic  sciencies.  Now they
evolved  their  own  technology  in  record time,  enlisted the
diminutive droyne as troops (most droyne were too small to host
a Master,  and  their  psionic  talents  helped them detect the
caracteristic  double mind of a masterdriven sophont)  and went
to war!

Provisional timeline:

- - -300.000 The  Masters thrive.  They transplant humans  to other
         worlds,  experiment on various terran and otherworldly
         fauna in an attempt to breed the perfect "steed",  and
         generally muck about.

- - -250.000 Masters contacts  'stree planet;  final war begins and
         lasts for 2.000 years, resulting in the total (total?)
         extermination of the Masters.

- - -248.000 The  'stree  retire  to  their  planet leaving droyne,
         vargr and humans to their own devices.

 -75.000 Nadir  of  droyne  race.  The mysterious "Grandfather"
         ('stree wanderers)  visits about  20 droyne worlds and
         introduces the coyns.

     328 Foren Caliphren Doon is marooned on Frisini (later re-
         named Beck's World) in the Regina subsector.  He finds
         an ancient Master stasis field  and releases a Master.
         Establishing proper control of Doon without destroying
         his mind (completely) is difficult,  but  "Number One"
         has both time and patience.

     335 Doon  is  rescued.  Number One  decides  to search for
         other survivors.  As a cover  he makes  Doon establish
         the Octagon Society.

     423 The Master fissions.

     499 Number One  and his  "brother"  Number Two  decides to
         abandon the search and leaves for the core, where they
         intend to infiltrate the very top of Imperial society.
         Unfortunately  (for them)  upper-class  imperials rou-
         tinely employs psionic adepts as security guards,  and
         a Master-driven person is amazingly conspicious to the
         telepatically endowed.

     800 The Masters, now 32 in numbers,  succeeds in provoking
         the psionic suppressions in order to eliminate psionic
         adepts and lessen the risk of exposure. The move works
         to a degree,  but  the highest levels of  the Imperium
         continues to employ psionic adepts in secret.

    1116 The Masters unleashes a plot to eliminate Strephon and
         put a successor that they already controls on the Iri-
         dium Throne. The move is not totally succesful.

Provsional campaign outline:

  The players  are in year 1112 now.  In 1113 they will be sent
on a long exploration voyage into the Foreven and Far Frontiers
Sectors. Here, on the egde of charted space, they will encount-
er the planet of the  'stree,  the first humans to have done so
for six or seven centuries.  On the surface the 'stree seems to
be just another low-tech barbarian culture, and the description
of them will be aimed at reinforcing that impression. You know;
big, strapping, muscular, spear-toting lizard-men wearing loin-
cloths  and tough expressions.  The 'stree elders will take the
opportunity to scan the player's ship's library data.  They get
suspicious over some clues to the existence of the Masters (Hey,
The Psionic Suppressions were rather conspicuous). They can't be
sure, but they decide to check it out. On leaving,  the captain
will recieve a 'stree servant  ("We have  a parting present for
you, Captain.").  If nessessary with a little pressure  ("Oh, I
couldn't accept that."  "Suit yourself; in that case we'll have
to excecute him...").

  They should return to  The Spinward Marches in 1116,  just in
time for the s**t to hit the fan. First the 'stree will somehow
manipulate  the  players  into a  round trip of  The Marches in
order to look for proof of the existence of the Masters, culmi-
nating in a visit to Twilights Peak. Next they will have to vi-
sit several of the warring  factions in order to discover which
one is controlled by the Masters. An extremely vicious fight to
eliminate  said Masters follows.  Finally, their  'stree friend
will agree to help them clean up the mess and restore The Impe-
rium, but they'll have to figure out how by themselves.

  Well, there you have it. Any comments?

PS. This is my third attempt at gettng this posting out.
    Hope it finally makes it. (Sigh).


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