Prosperity – Prologue
Season: Summer
The sky was empty, shining brightly, cloudless, the colour of powder blue as if the very vault of the world had been bleached by heat. And it was indeed very hot. The cicadas had been had it since early morning. We were now in the deepest part of the summer cycle. 23 hour long days. 12 hour long nights. Nightfall could not come quick enough.
Or so thought this generic, non-playable character as he hacked away at some dried up trees. Despite the tiresome heat, he was one of the many, many hands of the Ophion gahtering resources in the vicinity of the ship. Despite the heat fire was still very much in need for cooking and for heat when the residual day heat becomes not quite enough for the small colony of people living in the ship's husk.
The man's ax struck rhythmically against the wood, dull blows against hard, almost metal-like bark. It was hard work in this heat. His big hat provided him with a semblance of shade, but did nothing to cool him. He was sweating bullets. Or he wished he did. Sweating bullets would make defending against the next raid so much easier. He stopped his work to wipe his brow and look for his canteen.
As he looked up at the sky, he noticed that it was no longer empty. A streak of white clouds had appeared. They were, upon squinting, in fact no clouds at all but rather the trail, massive and fuming, left behind by a spaceship coming down from the heavens.
Straight at him. Or almost. A fireballl was heading straight into his general direction, at the very least. He swore, the words lost as the silence of the day was replaced by the deafening roar of the ship's struggling reactors and the sheer air pressure it was generating. The man ran. He ditched the firewood, and ax in hand, he bailed. He ran fast, faster than he thought possible in this temperature. He turned to watch as the ship crashed behind him. The impact was like a thermonuclear weapon going off. He was whisked off his feet, pushed by the sheer airdisplacement. A tsunami of dirt rose forth from the earth and it rained pebbles and moats all around our man.
Shaken, but hardly stirred, the man gets up and decides to go check out the crash site. A certain logic pervades scavengers – in disasters lies opportunity. The crash site was considerably further away then expected, but he made good time. The ship had crashed in a canyon system – or rather, it had expanded a canyon system. It was a rather large ship, it's smouldering carcass adding to the heat of the day. And among the wreckage he noticed forms moving about.
There were survivors.
He had seen enough. He turned around and, as quickly as he could, returned to the Ophion with the news.
[...]
Click.
Four was the number that sat around the dark table. Each shrouded in their own silences as they focused on their own thoughts to the exclusion of all else.
Click. Click. Mmmmm.
A young looking man with his hair tied in an elaborate and random assortment of weaves sat happily atop the cold metal floor. His eyes wide shut while the rest of his body twisted in and out of increasing complex shapes as he hummed complacently to himself as if even if only for that moment the worries of the wider world were gone. The low hum reverberated through the room and filled the chamber. This was Yogi Masadi and his was the silence of complacency.
Click. Mmmmm. Click. Click. Blip Blip.
An older man sat across from sat upright at the proper angle to be both comfortable and healthy in the small metallic chair. His eyes were a light neon blue that almost seemed to glow beneath his almost drooping lids. They idled easily about the room in a casual way but you somehow knew they never missed a thing. Those eyes that pierced sat sunk into the worried look chiseled into his face from a life filled with necessary cruelties. His hands all the while methodically loaded shells into the chambers of guns in a steady pattern. This was John Flynt and his was the silence of fear.
Click. Mmmmm. Click. Click. Blip. Blip. Mmmmm. Click. Scritch. Scratch.
A young woman leaned over a pile of overlapping diagrams without thought or concern for her appearance. Dark smudges of oil and graphite marred her skin while her light green hair sat like a tangled warren in challenge to any brush that might dare approach. None of it mattered to her. The green eyes only had time for the pile of diagrams and schematics before her as pencil frantically danced across them. She was a wisp that could disappear into her work and sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t better that way. This was Alex Shelby and hers was the silence of distraction.
Click. Mmmmm. Click. Click. Click. Blip. Blip. Scritch. Scratch. Click. Click. Crash.
The remote that smashed into the wall came from the outstretched hand of the one that would lead if only in name. The char wrapped around her like a protective shell far too large for her small body to fill as she peered out from it with a fiery looked that dared anyone to question her right to sit in it. It was her that broke them out of their silences and forced them to join her. She was Rollo Vandel and hers was the silence of desperation.
“Dammit Sparks! You told me you could fix it”, she gestured at the remnants of what had once been a remote but now resembled a pile of scrap.
“Could not would. Priorities probably?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question that Alex asked. It was as genuine as it was innocent. The unspoken part was the fact that her priorities had included explosives. She didn’t mention this because Rollo already knew and would take her toys from her. That made Alex sad. She disliked being sad.
“It’s just lights, ya know? Got us a nice groove here no need to hit them on. Too bright. Oppressive man. Shine a light in too many shadows just going to end up regretting it. Or disappointed. Not to mention lost,” He trailed off as though he lost his train of thought and punctuated his words with a serene grin of self satisfaction. That was sort of Yogi Masadi’s modus operandi. Everyone hated it but with time the crew had learned to tolerate if not indulge it.
“About the ship..” John spoke rarely and even then was sparse with words.
“Yes! That’s why we are here if you forgot” Her tone of accusation was at odds with the realization in her eyes that she herself had indeed forgotten. “Sparks talk to me.”
“About what?”
“The ship, Sparks, the ship! Tell me about it.”
“Well it crashed. So it probably came through space and then its systems were all like WAAAAAGH SNIZZLE SNAZZLE WOOP. Then the ship was like SWOOSH CRISH CRASH BOOOM. End report.” Alex Shelby was actually very good with sound effects and could in fact duplicate just about any mechanical sound which meant the authenticity of this report was as spot on as it was useless.
“Please. Sparks? Stay with me, okay? Tell. Me. Information. About. The. Ship. That. Would. Help. Us. Capiche?” Rollo was almost proud at how patient she was being. Point of order, this was her third chair. The prior two had been tragically lost during previous meetings.
“Strip the bones. Salt the wounds. Put it out of its misery. The reactor is still giving off radiation. Could blow it up? Might have a science team with a lot of shiny doowhickies. I could do stuff with those. Good stuff maybe? Definitely stuff though.”
“So. Strip anything useful and then break it so it can’t be used against us. Righteous. What was that about a reactor though? You want us to...that can’t be safe. John that would be bad right? For us and health reasons right?”
“Could be done safely. Could also make a trap. Can’t say now. Should let the team make the call.”
“Awesome. Now, I’m afraid to ask but does your team need anything Masadi?”
“Music. Would make me feel better. Softer mats too. Ahh, they gave me a list of other things. Medicines and such. We don’t need it but it’d make them feel better. Not all of them are ready to leave behind such preconceptions and are shackled to the old ways,” Yogi tossed out a heavily crumpled sheet of paper filled with important and super necessary things the medical team needed. The manner in which it was written was excessively showy and the paper itself smelt of lavender.
“Great. We’ll make sure they get what they can off the list and uhh guess we can see what they can do about the music,” The thumbs up she gave him was excessively shaky. “That just leaves the survivors which I don’t even need to say anything about right? You save them. Or salvage what you can of them. I’m not picky.”
[...]
The party set out at dusk. For clarification, dusk and dawn last about 5 hours on Prosperity. This 10 hour window is largely considered to be the best to do anything and people tend to be at their liveliest at those hours. The sky was bright orange and purple and stars were beginning to appear. Strange and foreign stars.
The group left in two vehicules – one mostly empty, the other carrying most of the group. Whatever they find at the ship, they would have to be picky. The ride was smooth – I mean, as smooth as driving on difficult terrain can be.
The smouldering crash was quite a sight to behold in the dying light. The smoke rose dramatically over the half-destroyed ship, highlights blue, black, and orange playing within the billowing mass.
They were greeted by an armed party. They shot a few rounds over the party's head.
A man, with a rather impressive beard, stepped forward.
“NOT ONE STEP CLOSER, VULTURES, OR YOU WILL GO BACK WITH A FEW MORE HOLES TO SHOW TO YOUR FRIENDS.”
The man was flanked with at least 10 armed dudes. You can make out that behind there are at least 30 survivors. Considerable amounts of material has already been pulled out from the ship. You can spot crates that promise food, medicine and ammunition. You also spot they managed to salvage at least one all-terrain caravan from the wreck as well, giving you some options.
What do you do?
Remember the objectives:
Secure survivors.
Secure medical supplies.
Secure food supplies.
Secure any spaceship parts that can be salvaged. (this requires you to have an engineer go in and assess)
You can't bring back everything with you.