Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)A setting for SF roleplays:
Gateway Station, so-called because it lies at the hub of the Gate network that links all inhabited worlds of the Galactic Commonwealth, is ancient beyond measure. Constructed by an unknown race long before humanity took its first tentative steps beyond the surface of their home world, the massive structure is now home to the Commonwealth's government, consisting representatives from more than one hundred occupied planets. It is the multi-cultural centre of the known galaxy, still mostly unexplored even after hundreds of years of occupation, and holds forgotten technologies of unimaginable power and secrets beyond counting.
The occupied area of the station, less than an eighth of its total volume, is divided into Sectors numbered 1 through 9. Each Sector is roughly analogous to a nation-state or even continent found on any other world, with its own customs, cultural identity and representative to the Commonwealth.
Every day Gateway Station is visited by hundreds of thousands of immigrants, traders, holiday-makers, travellers, treasure and bounty hunters and merely those waiting for a connecting flight to their final destination.
Maintaining law and order on Gateway Station falls to an organisation called Administrative Security but colloquially, and more commonly, known as the Watch. The Watch is essentially a standing army dedicated to the preservation of such laws are able to be enforced in such a diverse and simply massive setting where the population of Earth would be swallowed many times over. Watch officers number in the hundreds of thousands, but the total population of Gateway Station is many orders of magnitude greater, and the members of the Watch are fighting a daily battle against smugglers, drug and arms dealers, slavers and general lawlessness.
(There can be alien races in this setting if you want. I've got a couple of my own, or you can make some up too, or the Galactic Commonwealth could be a solely human concern.)
A Mad Max/Road Warrior type setting:
The roofs of Mektown sprouted a hardy crop of buckets, basins and bowls as the rain began. Makeshift gutters flowed into barrels and repurposed fuel tanks.
Venger sat alone at a table in the corner of the bar, listening to the rain drumming on the tin roof, a grumpy expression plastered all over his ugly face. A mismatched collection of containers, battered tin mugs, clay cups and chipped glasses littered the surface in front of him, all evidence that he had tried, unsuccessfully, to drown his sorrows. The Vendetta, and Venger in particular, had any number of sorrows right now, and there was not enough alcohol in all of Mektown to drown every one of them.
A woman entered the bar, shook out her hair, removed her goggles and pulled the heavy cloth away from her mouth and nose before squelching over to the long bar that ran the length of the room, ignoring the disgruntled man in the corner for the time being.
The woman placed three shotgun shells on the bar and inclined her head towards Venger once she had caught the barman's eye, then weaved her way through the crowded room to join the leader of the gang to which she had pledged her allegiance some months before. She reversed a high-backed chair and set herself upon it, waiting for her boss to speak.
"Wasn't so long ago the red was respected in this town," he slurred. The woman nodded sympathetically. This was the beginning of a speech she had heard several times since she had started wearing the red herself, but she was inclined to indulge the man on this occasion. "N'er had any problems wi' Madmek nor the Librarians. All this started when Madmek le-"
He stopped in mid-flow, eyes narrowing at something, or more likely someone, over the woman's shoulder. She turned in her seat to see a group of men by the entrance, too closely grouped for her to make an accurate count across the packed bar, but she estimated at least six. All of them had a flash of yellow somewhere on their person, standing out against the almost compulsory black leathers, just as she and Venger both wore the red.
"Wasps," roared Venger, loud enough to silence all other voices in the bar, leaping out of his chair with a massive slugger in one huge fist.
The leader of the Wasps, a man just as big and ugly and scarred as Venger, made his way over to the members of the Vendetta, smiled condescendingly at Venger and leered at the woman on the basis that she was a woman.
"Vespid," growled Venger through gritted teeth. "The hell do you want?"
"Was looking for you, hey?" said Vespid, pitching his booming voice to ensure that it carried to every corner of the bar. "Juat wanted to say no hard feelings, hey?" He smiled down the barrel of Venger's gun, showing a number of broken and yellowed teeth, and there was a burst of laughter from his cronies, all of it forced. It was rumoured that the leader of the Wasps ran his gang with an iron fist and an itchy trigger finger despite his easy-going demeanour. "Always positions open in the Wasps, hey?"
"You can shove your positions up your arse, Wasp. Now get outta my fiz." It wasn't prize-winning repartee, but Venger was very, very drunk.
Vespid merely shrugged and left the bar, the rest of the Wasps falling in behind him.
Venger settled down quickly and put his weapon away, lest he attract any more attention that he already had.
"What's the card'nal rule, Pistoletta?"
"No insult unavenged," the woman replied promptly, searching among the debris on the table until she found a cup with something left in it, and took a swig. "Might as well drink battery acid."
"No alc'hol in batt'ry acid," said Venger. "Gotta get some more bodies wearin' the red," he added. "Put the word out."
"Already taken care of, boss," said Pistoletta. "Dropped in on Ordna and Mute on the way here."
"Mute's a good kid, used to work wi' Madmek 'fore he left," said Venger, lowering his head to the table. He was snoring a few seconds later.
Pistoletta got up quietly and left after fruitlessly searching for any more unfinished booze.
Mute sat on a battered folding chair in front of her workshop, enjoying the sunshine after yesterday's rain, watching the world go by and clearing her head. Behind her, strung up between two of the roof supports, was a large hand-lettered banner proclaiming, for those able to read:
(You don't have to be Pistoletta or Mute, and I don't have to be Venger or Vespid. Just a brief look at the world of Mektown.)
A fantasy setting:
In the beginning were the gods, greater and lesser, but after a time they grew bored and, seeking entertainment, they created, among other wonders, the Sphere. And upon the Sphere the gods placed every kind of life, favouring it with soulless beings bearing the likeness of themselves. The gods called these beings Golems, and the Golems multiplied and spread across the surface of the Sphere.
The gods delighted in visiting their creations, often observing them at work and rest. Until one of the gods, who was called Vandal, became dissatisfied with the Golems. He argued that they were too perfect, too predictable and therefore not as entertaining as they could have been.
And so Vandal, working with the lesser god Solum and his lovers, the twin sisters Lumos and Murcos, created the race known as Humans. The Humans were everything the Golems were not. They were unpredictable and impulsive, and provided the gods with much entertainment.
Over time the Golems became jealous of this lesser, imperfect race of Humans and fell to quarrelling with their creators. They made plans to banish the gods from the surface of the Sphere and then focus on destroying the upstart Humans.
Their plan was successful and all of the gods were banished to the Realm of Lights above the Sphere and sealed there, but not before the gods could imprison the Golems in the Core of the Sphere. Trapped in the Core, the Golems plotted further revenge against the gods and against the Humans for stealing their favour.
For their part in going against the wishes of the greater gods, Vandal and his accomplices were ejected from the Realm of Lights, Vandla to live the rest of his immortal existence with the Humans upon the surface of the Sphere. Solum and his lovers were changed into the sun and moons, the sisters destined to chase the object of their affections across the heavens for all eternity, but never catch him.
During this time, the Humans had split into factions and often warred between themselves. There were five factions: the Archons, Psychopomp, Troika, Animadvents and the Warriors of Hesheo.
When Vandal arrived on the Sphere he took upon him his aspect as Destrier and vented his wrath upon the Psychopomp, forcing them to flee from their lands. Fearing that every faction would fall before this immortal being, the remaining factions united and managed to push Vandal back to the an area of desert called Vandal's Ruin, but not before the fallen god had killed Hesheo and many of his warriors.
When the Human armies retreated a woman from the faction of the Animadvents remained behind. Her name was Mizerasta and she claimed to have fallen in love with Vandal. They were married and had a child called Nepenthes, but Mizerasta died in childbirth.
The Psychopomp fled to the Sentinels, the entrance to the Core, which they managed to open. The Golems inside were waiting for their chance to get revenge on Vandal for creating Humans, and the rest of the gods for imprisoning them. They gifted to the Psychoopomp a mobile fortress they had constructed during their confinement - a steel castle mounted upon great tracks, armed with strange and powerful weapons and crewed by Golems willing to take orders. With this fortress the Psychopomp were tasked to defeat the other factions and claim their souls for the Golems, their ultimate aim to defeat Vandal. In return, the Psychopomp would be spared.
As the Psychopomp moved from the Core Entrance, the Archons captured the area, fighting against the Golems to close the Core again, which they did. During the war against Vandal the Archons had acquired the key to the Thirteenth Seal, one of the seals by which the Golems kept the gods from the surface of the Sphere. They opened the seal and acquired knowledge from the gods, certain of their number could conjure balls of fire, arcs of lightning or chill mist.
Meanwhile, under the leadership of a man named Justicar, the Troika constructed the fortress city of High Troiken and defended it against many raids by the remaining Warriors of Hesheo. The Troika became masters at defending fixed positions, developing heavy suits of metal armour and deadly repeater crossbows. Though few in number the Troiken High Guard were more than a match for the endless numbers of Hesheo's Warriors and eventually drove them away.
The Animadverts preferred not to fight, and instead positioned certain of their number amongst the other factions. They hoped to learn from one another, seeking a peaceful solution to all problems instead of incessant war.
And so it was for many years that the immortals Vandal and Nepenthes lived alone in the barren Salt Marches and ruined cities of Vandal's Ruin, hiding there from the might of the Psychopomp Fortess.
The Psychopomp turned their attention on the other factions, seeking to destroy them one at a time and so gather enough souls to release the Golems from their prison.
The Warriors of Hesheo, lacking a strong leader, split into many small bands of raiders, preying on the outlying settlements of the Archons and the Troika.
The Archons continued their search for the keys to the other Seals, hoping to gain more knowledge from the gods and so rise to prominence. In return for this knowledge, the Archons are tasked to defend the Sentinels and prevent the Golems escaping from their fiery prison.
The Troika continued to build ever stronger defences, knowing that it would not be long until the Psychopomp mobile fortress attacked them.
And the Animadverts did their best to ease relations between the factions, but to no avail.
The gods watch on, mightily amused.
(The various factions can either all be humans, or we can make up different races for each, or go the old elves, dwarves and orcs route.)
And a silly one:
There are four elements; everyone knows this.
Everything in the world has the right elements in the correct amounts to make, to give a few examples, a fish, a tree, a jet-powered monkey-navigated magicycle or even a person.
The elements are known by these names: Paper, Coffee, Soap and Hair.
There are certain people with the ability to control an element, use it to alter the world in many ways. They are called wizards ('witch' is a term of sexual discrimination), and each wizard has an innate talent in the use of one element. The powers also come with a downside.
Paper Wizards are largely chroniclers due to their ingrained propensity to take notes about everything. Paper Wizards are very intelligent but often slow to act, unwilling to commit themselves to action before they have checked their logs and cross-referenced for similar situations.
Coffee Wizards, while unarguably the most powerful of the four types of wizard, are inflicted with terrible insomnia. They are constantly strung-out from lack of sleep, full of nervous energy and often develop various tics as a result.
Soap Wizards are the most obsessive of all wizards. They are invariably concerned with their appearance, unwilling to leave their homes if their hair is not perfect or if there is even the smallest stain on their clothes. They are greatly concerned with cleanliness.
Hair Wizards, on the other hand, do not seem to pay much attention to their outward appearance. They are generally unkempt and untidy, but not actually unclean. Hair Wizards often sport outlandsih hair styles and colours and facial hair.
The powers of wizards vary by the element and even among individuals practicing magic of the same element. Even so, there are some powers common to all wizards.
Every wizard can summon an Elemental of his or her particular element, the appearance of this creature depending on the will and personality of the wizard who summoned it.
There are also many lesser spells, such as the ever-popular Turn Solicitor (for use on door-to-door salesmen and their ilk) Induce Nymphomania (very effective against female elves), Raise Bread (useful in bakeries) and Power Word Sneeze (self explanitory).
In return for their powers, all wizards are charged to protect the city of Enral, home of the wizards' tower known as the Toothpick. There are many evil creatures in the world - such as tribes of ferocious Frogres (half frog and half ogre), armies of evil Dark Elves and power-crazed dictators, tyrants and despots - all ready and willing to attack Enral if they thought for one second they could get away with it.
The wizards are all that stands between civilisation and total anarchy!
Gateway Station, so-called because it lies at the hub of the Gate network that links all inhabited worlds of the Galactic Commonwealth, is ancient beyond measure. Constructed by an unknown race long before humanity took its first tentative steps beyond the surface of their home world, the massive structure is now home to the Commonwealth's government, consisting representatives from more than one hundred occupied planets. It is the multi-cultural centre of the known galaxy, still mostly unexplored even after hundreds of years of occupation, and holds forgotten technologies of unimaginable power and secrets beyond counting.
The occupied area of the station, less than an eighth of its total volume, is divided into Sectors numbered 1 through 9. Each Sector is roughly analogous to a nation-state or even continent found on any other world, with its own customs, cultural identity and representative to the Commonwealth.
Every day Gateway Station is visited by hundreds of thousands of immigrants, traders, holiday-makers, travellers, treasure and bounty hunters and merely those waiting for a connecting flight to their final destination.
Maintaining law and order on Gateway Station falls to an organisation called Administrative Security but colloquially, and more commonly, known as the Watch. The Watch is essentially a standing army dedicated to the preservation of such laws are able to be enforced in such a diverse and simply massive setting where the population of Earth would be swallowed many times over. Watch officers number in the hundreds of thousands, but the total population of Gateway Station is many orders of magnitude greater, and the members of the Watch are fighting a daily battle against smugglers, drug and arms dealers, slavers and general lawlessness.
(There can be alien races in this setting if you want. I've got a couple of my own, or you can make some up too, or the Galactic Commonwealth could be a solely human concern.)
A Mad Max/Road Warrior type setting:
The roofs of Mektown sprouted a hardy crop of buckets, basins and bowls as the rain began. Makeshift gutters flowed into barrels and repurposed fuel tanks.
Venger sat alone at a table in the corner of the bar, listening to the rain drumming on the tin roof, a grumpy expression plastered all over his ugly face. A mismatched collection of containers, battered tin mugs, clay cups and chipped glasses littered the surface in front of him, all evidence that he had tried, unsuccessfully, to drown his sorrows. The Vendetta, and Venger in particular, had any number of sorrows right now, and there was not enough alcohol in all of Mektown to drown every one of them.
A woman entered the bar, shook out her hair, removed her goggles and pulled the heavy cloth away from her mouth and nose before squelching over to the long bar that ran the length of the room, ignoring the disgruntled man in the corner for the time being.
The woman placed three shotgun shells on the bar and inclined her head towards Venger once she had caught the barman's eye, then weaved her way through the crowded room to join the leader of the gang to which she had pledged her allegiance some months before. She reversed a high-backed chair and set herself upon it, waiting for her boss to speak.
"Wasn't so long ago the red was respected in this town," he slurred. The woman nodded sympathetically. This was the beginning of a speech she had heard several times since she had started wearing the red herself, but she was inclined to indulge the man on this occasion. "N'er had any problems wi' Madmek nor the Librarians. All this started when Madmek le-"
He stopped in mid-flow, eyes narrowing at something, or more likely someone, over the woman's shoulder. She turned in her seat to see a group of men by the entrance, too closely grouped for her to make an accurate count across the packed bar, but she estimated at least six. All of them had a flash of yellow somewhere on their person, standing out against the almost compulsory black leathers, just as she and Venger both wore the red.
"Wasps," roared Venger, loud enough to silence all other voices in the bar, leaping out of his chair with a massive slugger in one huge fist.
The leader of the Wasps, a man just as big and ugly and scarred as Venger, made his way over to the members of the Vendetta, smiled condescendingly at Venger and leered at the woman on the basis that she was a woman.
"Vespid," growled Venger through gritted teeth. "The hell do you want?"
"Was looking for you, hey?" said Vespid, pitching his booming voice to ensure that it carried to every corner of the bar. "Juat wanted to say no hard feelings, hey?" He smiled down the barrel of Venger's gun, showing a number of broken and yellowed teeth, and there was a burst of laughter from his cronies, all of it forced. It was rumoured that the leader of the Wasps ran his gang with an iron fist and an itchy trigger finger despite his easy-going demeanour. "Always positions open in the Wasps, hey?"
"You can shove your positions up your arse, Wasp. Now get outta my fiz." It wasn't prize-winning repartee, but Venger was very, very drunk.
Vespid merely shrugged and left the bar, the rest of the Wasps falling in behind him.
Venger settled down quickly and put his weapon away, lest he attract any more attention that he already had.
"What's the card'nal rule, Pistoletta?"
"No insult unavenged," the woman replied promptly, searching among the debris on the table until she found a cup with something left in it, and took a swig. "Might as well drink battery acid."
"No alc'hol in batt'ry acid," said Venger. "Gotta get some more bodies wearin' the red," he added. "Put the word out."
"Already taken care of, boss," said Pistoletta. "Dropped in on Ordna and Mute on the way here."
"Mute's a good kid, used to work wi' Madmek 'fore he left," said Venger, lowering his head to the table. He was snoring a few seconds later.
Pistoletta got up quietly and left after fruitlessly searching for any more unfinished booze.
Mute sat on a battered folding chair in front of her workshop, enjoying the sunshine after yesterday's rain, watching the world go by and clearing her head. Behind her, strung up between two of the roof supports, was a large hand-lettered banner proclaiming, for those able to read:
Vindeta - recrooting
Wear the Red!
She had worked on it most of yesterday, and the workshop now smelt of paint fumes as well as its usual mixture of oil, gasoline and burnt metal.Wear the Red!
(You don't have to be Pistoletta or Mute, and I don't have to be Venger or Vespid. Just a brief look at the world of Mektown.)
A fantasy setting:
In the beginning were the gods, greater and lesser, but after a time they grew bored and, seeking entertainment, they created, among other wonders, the Sphere. And upon the Sphere the gods placed every kind of life, favouring it with soulless beings bearing the likeness of themselves. The gods called these beings Golems, and the Golems multiplied and spread across the surface of the Sphere.
The gods delighted in visiting their creations, often observing them at work and rest. Until one of the gods, who was called Vandal, became dissatisfied with the Golems. He argued that they were too perfect, too predictable and therefore not as entertaining as they could have been.
And so Vandal, working with the lesser god Solum and his lovers, the twin sisters Lumos and Murcos, created the race known as Humans. The Humans were everything the Golems were not. They were unpredictable and impulsive, and provided the gods with much entertainment.
Over time the Golems became jealous of this lesser, imperfect race of Humans and fell to quarrelling with their creators. They made plans to banish the gods from the surface of the Sphere and then focus on destroying the upstart Humans.
Their plan was successful and all of the gods were banished to the Realm of Lights above the Sphere and sealed there, but not before the gods could imprison the Golems in the Core of the Sphere. Trapped in the Core, the Golems plotted further revenge against the gods and against the Humans for stealing their favour.
For their part in going against the wishes of the greater gods, Vandal and his accomplices were ejected from the Realm of Lights, Vandla to live the rest of his immortal existence with the Humans upon the surface of the Sphere. Solum and his lovers were changed into the sun and moons, the sisters destined to chase the object of their affections across the heavens for all eternity, but never catch him.
During this time, the Humans had split into factions and often warred between themselves. There were five factions: the Archons, Psychopomp, Troika, Animadvents and the Warriors of Hesheo.
When Vandal arrived on the Sphere he took upon him his aspect as Destrier and vented his wrath upon the Psychopomp, forcing them to flee from their lands. Fearing that every faction would fall before this immortal being, the remaining factions united and managed to push Vandal back to the an area of desert called Vandal's Ruin, but not before the fallen god had killed Hesheo and many of his warriors.
When the Human armies retreated a woman from the faction of the Animadvents remained behind. Her name was Mizerasta and she claimed to have fallen in love with Vandal. They were married and had a child called Nepenthes, but Mizerasta died in childbirth.
The Psychopomp fled to the Sentinels, the entrance to the Core, which they managed to open. The Golems inside were waiting for their chance to get revenge on Vandal for creating Humans, and the rest of the gods for imprisoning them. They gifted to the Psychoopomp a mobile fortress they had constructed during their confinement - a steel castle mounted upon great tracks, armed with strange and powerful weapons and crewed by Golems willing to take orders. With this fortress the Psychopomp were tasked to defeat the other factions and claim their souls for the Golems, their ultimate aim to defeat Vandal. In return, the Psychopomp would be spared.
As the Psychopomp moved from the Core Entrance, the Archons captured the area, fighting against the Golems to close the Core again, which they did. During the war against Vandal the Archons had acquired the key to the Thirteenth Seal, one of the seals by which the Golems kept the gods from the surface of the Sphere. They opened the seal and acquired knowledge from the gods, certain of their number could conjure balls of fire, arcs of lightning or chill mist.
Meanwhile, under the leadership of a man named Justicar, the Troika constructed the fortress city of High Troiken and defended it against many raids by the remaining Warriors of Hesheo. The Troika became masters at defending fixed positions, developing heavy suits of metal armour and deadly repeater crossbows. Though few in number the Troiken High Guard were more than a match for the endless numbers of Hesheo's Warriors and eventually drove them away.
The Animadverts preferred not to fight, and instead positioned certain of their number amongst the other factions. They hoped to learn from one another, seeking a peaceful solution to all problems instead of incessant war.
And so it was for many years that the immortals Vandal and Nepenthes lived alone in the barren Salt Marches and ruined cities of Vandal's Ruin, hiding there from the might of the Psychopomp Fortess.
The Psychopomp turned their attention on the other factions, seeking to destroy them one at a time and so gather enough souls to release the Golems from their prison.
The Warriors of Hesheo, lacking a strong leader, split into many small bands of raiders, preying on the outlying settlements of the Archons and the Troika.
The Archons continued their search for the keys to the other Seals, hoping to gain more knowledge from the gods and so rise to prominence. In return for this knowledge, the Archons are tasked to defend the Sentinels and prevent the Golems escaping from their fiery prison.
The Troika continued to build ever stronger defences, knowing that it would not be long until the Psychopomp mobile fortress attacked them.
And the Animadverts did their best to ease relations between the factions, but to no avail.
The gods watch on, mightily amused.
(The various factions can either all be humans, or we can make up different races for each, or go the old elves, dwarves and orcs route.)
And a silly one:
There are four elements; everyone knows this.
Everything in the world has the right elements in the correct amounts to make, to give a few examples, a fish, a tree, a jet-powered monkey-navigated magicycle or even a person.
The elements are known by these names: Paper, Coffee, Soap and Hair.
There are certain people with the ability to control an element, use it to alter the world in many ways. They are called wizards ('witch' is a term of sexual discrimination), and each wizard has an innate talent in the use of one element. The powers also come with a downside.
Paper Wizards are largely chroniclers due to their ingrained propensity to take notes about everything. Paper Wizards are very intelligent but often slow to act, unwilling to commit themselves to action before they have checked their logs and cross-referenced for similar situations.
Coffee Wizards, while unarguably the most powerful of the four types of wizard, are inflicted with terrible insomnia. They are constantly strung-out from lack of sleep, full of nervous energy and often develop various tics as a result.
Soap Wizards are the most obsessive of all wizards. They are invariably concerned with their appearance, unwilling to leave their homes if their hair is not perfect or if there is even the smallest stain on their clothes. They are greatly concerned with cleanliness.
Hair Wizards, on the other hand, do not seem to pay much attention to their outward appearance. They are generally unkempt and untidy, but not actually unclean. Hair Wizards often sport outlandsih hair styles and colours and facial hair.
The powers of wizards vary by the element and even among individuals practicing magic of the same element. Even so, there are some powers common to all wizards.
Every wizard can summon an Elemental of his or her particular element, the appearance of this creature depending on the will and personality of the wizard who summoned it.
There are also many lesser spells, such as the ever-popular Turn Solicitor (for use on door-to-door salesmen and their ilk) Induce Nymphomania (very effective against female elves), Raise Bread (useful in bakeries) and Power Word Sneeze (self explanitory).
In return for their powers, all wizards are charged to protect the city of Enral, home of the wizards' tower known as the Toothpick. There are many evil creatures in the world - such as tribes of ferocious Frogres (half frog and half ogre), armies of evil Dark Elves and power-crazed dictators, tyrants and despots - all ready and willing to attack Enral if they thought for one second they could get away with it.
The wizards are all that stands between civilisation and total anarchy!