Catostrophy

Thanks for the interest, guys! I'll be posting my choices later tonight or tomorrow morning AEST. It will give people who are interested a bit more time to work on their posts. Like I said, there are only twelve places so to anyone I can't let in, I'm sorry.

The Rise (AKA, Mith's FRP) The Altairean Empire--once a preeminent power, now withered beyond recognition. Amidst crumbling roads and eroded statues a great power once rose and dominated the known world. Having reached its zenith, instability, greed, corruption, plague, and invasion reduced its power to a petty nation of bureaucrats, generals, politicians, merchants, and an infant Emperor. All vie for influence in the dusty capital--their chaotic leadership guiding Altaire slowly toward oblivion. You, however, are not some capital-bound citizen. You are a governor of an Imperial province with ambitions, goals, and desires that extend further than the next year. After a thousand disasters and broken armies, the Altairean Empire has just barely held together in its west-most territories. Having lost the capital Neia, the Imperial Council and bureaucracy has relocated to the ancient capital and religious center of the Empire, Altaire. Plagues, banditry, pirates, and the erosion of infrastructure have drained the empire of citizens, resources, and coin. Now that peace has finally been secured, the citizens pray to their ancestors for stability and prosperity. Has the Nightmare Era come to an end, or is this the preamble for the next disaster to come? Only time will tell... -------------------------------------------------------------- Choosing Your Province There are twelve provinces to choose from, and all are in a uniquely terrible state. Ravaged by decades of corruption and poor management, they have finally stabilized in their stagnancy. With conditions the way they are, things can only get better (probably)! All provinces - though they may be separated by mountains or sea - are all influenced by the same culture at base. The Altairean Empire is very clearly based on ancient Rome (specifically late-Rome), so keep that in mind as you build your provincial identity. I’ll give you plenty of creative license for it, but if I feel it veers a little too far from Roman-ish culture I’ll have to ask you to change it. I hope that doesn’t upset any RP purists! The religion of Altaire (the one cultural totem I’ll actually describe in any detail) is that of ‘Neaism,’--an ancestor-worshipping faith that places importance on family and appeasing the spirits of the dead. All homes have small shrines to their deceased family, with long lists of names that go back centuries. Neai herself is considered the first ancestor of all Altaireans, and is therefore universally worshiped in temples and public shrines. Figures of great importance or achievement will often have their own public shrine if their deeds are worthy of it. The city of Altaire itself is a chaotic mess of religious edifices--some so old and decrepit the names of the ancestors can no longer be recognized. The dogged priests will give offerings to appease the nameless dead regardless, with rotting food, flowers, and burning incense creating a strange smell that most shrine-goers will find familiar wherever they travel. Practitioners of Neaism can be highly superstitious and see purpose in every tragedy and joy. Also, keep in mind this excerpt from the timeline: “The huge swathe of problems facing the empire turn out to be too daunting for Scipicus to contend with, thus he reorganizes the western holdings into a series of “provinces” controlled by his most loyal commanders and councillors.” It has been 15-20 years since that decree. Your governor may still be the same loyal supporter from the last (adult) Emperor. The Empire's timeline: (A stupidly long read, sorry) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kyoecDWXd6Wmz1l5sSb_LXqjQH0nV-nz2J9PIGSmtiI/edit The Rules: (Not as long, I promise) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jTX9bMjujF8jfIZIffItvczmIybf3oVC6l0vUIHOS8M/edit Reference Maps: Available Provinces Players may apply for one province. If two players apply for the same province then it will come down to who was first to apply/the quality of their post. There are only twelve spots, so no reservations! (I apologize for the state of this map. My current map-boy is currently working as a prostitute in Belgium, and can't fix his egregious errors) 1. Blightswamp A disgusting, fetid, disease-ridden swamp. Only recently retaken from the Korvics, the wood in the swamp was far less useful than the scouts originally believed. Sparsely populated and dirt-poor, most of its current people only remain because they can’t afford to go anywhere else. Due to bureaucracy and stubbornness, the Imperial Council refused to abandon it, and handed it off to some unlucky governor. Population: 300,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 1x Tier 1 Lumberyard 25AP in farmlands 25AP in mercantile district Miscellaneous: A large abandoned town wiped out by disease, and a stronghold for death-cult activity during the great plague. Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 2000 Imperial Soldiers, housed within 4 wooden forts. 2. The Blackwoods Dark, eerie forests, with excellent lumber and wary people. Like Blightswamp, it was only recently retaken from the Korvics and now serves as the primary source of wood for warships. However, the thick canopy hides frightening secrets. Peasants are known to disappear in the thick fog, and some lakeside farms are found suspiciously abandoned--their former occupants nowhere to be seen... Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 2x Tier 1 Lumber-yards 50AP in farmlands Miscellaneous: Things in the woods, perhaps? Imperial Forces Present: 3000 Imperial soldiers, housed within 2 stone forts. 3. The Gray Coast Cold, windy coastlines with rocky beaches and craggy gray hills. Known for its bleak appearance and huge sources of iron, the Gray Coast is otherwise of little note. Despite its lackluster appearance, the area is a favorite spot for Korvic sea raids from the nearby islands, which encourages the Imperial army to have a large presence in the area. Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 2x Tier 2 Mines (iron) 25AP in farmlands Imperial Forces Present: Headquarters for the Second and Third Legion. 10,000 soldiers are housed within two stone fortresses, a stone fort, and a wooden fort. 4. Riviera The cultural and economic heartland beyond the capital. The province of wine, art, and adultery, Riviera is the land of the wealthy provincial elite. Rolling, green hills are covered with countless ancient vineyards and the wealth of centuries is on display to any visitor. Though the place is starting to look terribly dilapidated, as there are no experts who can repair the myriad of crumbling monuments. Population: 750,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x tier 1 luxury manufactory (wine) 75AP in mercantile districts 100AP in Ports Miscellaneous: Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 4500 Imperial soldiers, quartered in three stone forts. 5. Annor’s Crossroads Flat, grassy valleys surrounded by mountains, with a well-traveled highway cutting through it. Notable for having nothing to do with King Annor, the crossroads have been a centre-point in overland trade since the empire’s height. Though its expertise and grandeur diminished significantly during the Nightmare Era, the greatest armourers and weaponsmiths outside the capital make their home here. Population: 600,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 50AP in mercantile districts Tier 3 Military Foundry Imperial Forces Present: 2500 Imperial soldiers, quartered in one stone fort, and two wooden forts. 100 handgunners. 6. Royal Highlands A mountainous region home to a number of beautiful and rare minerals popular among aristocrats and the well-to-do. The area is mostly known for having the only Sorcerer's Academy outside the capital. The province has never been a wealthy one, though, and specialists have always shied away from the lonely peaks. Population: 500,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x Luxury Resource (gemstones) 25AP in Mercantile District Tier 2 Sorcerer Academy Miscellaneous: Two ruined ports abandoned during the Nightmare Era. Imperial Forces Present: 1500 Imperial soldiers quartered within three wooden forts. 7. Aulus’ March A mountainous region that suffered greatly during the barbarous Korvic invasions, and is heavily fortified as a result. Korvic raids are common, and the mountain paths are covered in abandoned huts and villages. Though it has little in the way of natural resources, the port and iron mine provide a small income for the impoverished locals. The most notable aspects of this province are the unique defences, and the headquarters of the famous First Fleet. Population: 550,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 50AP in port. 1x tier 1 mine (iron) Imperial Forces Present: Headquarters for the First, Fourth, and Fifth Legion, and the Headquarters for the First Fleet. 15,000 soldiers spread between Aulus Citadel and two fortresses. 1 quadrireme, 6 triremes, 9 biremes, and 5 galleys. 8. Plains of Farlus Very plain, with horses and farms being the most prominent source of wealth. Every now and then some lucky farmer plows one of the many unusual hills that dot the landscape and accidentally break into a prehistoric tomb. Collectors prize the trinkets from here, but sorcerers always have legal right to seize them if they deem them to have magical properties. Other than a thriving black-market in ancient trinkets, little else is of note. Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x tier 1 Horse Breeder 50AP in farmlands. Sorcerers. Miscellaneous: Strange mounds on the planes, possibly brimming with treasure. Possibly. A large abandoned town wiped out by disease and a stronghold for death-cult activity during the great plague. Imperial Forces Present: 1000 Imperial soldiers quartered in two wooden forts. 9. Island of Salathai Fiercely independent and often instigating independence movements around the empire. Conquered bloodlessly centuries ago the Salathai has never truly been subjugated, and uprisings are common as a result. With the second largest port in the Azure sea, the Island is the headquarters of the dilapidated and poorly disciplined Fourth Fleet. The island lost much of its industrial capabilities during the Nightmare Era, and is only now recovering. Population: 500,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 25AP in farmlands 25AP in mercantile district 50AP in port Miscellaneous: Abandoned mine deep inland. Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 4000 Imperial Soldiers quartered in 2 stone forts and 2 wooden forts. Fourth Fleet headquarters with 4 Triremes, 6 biremes, and 10 galleys. 10. Esk Savannah Home of the swiftest horses, the hottest days, and the most dangerous wildlife around. In recent days, creatures have been crawling out of the southern mountains and destroying villages, eating livestock, and killing anyone foolish enough to get lost. The garrison here is entirely mounted and ride across the auburn grasslands to meet their foes. It appears to be a losing battle, however, as every season even more monsters crawl north, with only a withering force to stop them. Population: 400,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 25AP in farmland 2x tier 1 horse breeders. Miscellaneous: Big, bad beasts in the south. Very dangerous. Imperial Forces Present: 4000 Imperial soldiers quartered in 1 stone fort, and 5 wooden forts. 11. The Tamaraad Coast The flashpoint for many wars, and the graveyard of countless Imperial fallen. Though it’s known for its bountiful farmland it also sports a large port for trade and sends wheat to all corners of the Empire. Considered Altaire’s breadbasket for centuries, the Tamaraad coast is one of the most important Imperial possessions, and has its own dedicated legion as a result. Population: 700,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 100AP in farmland 50AP in port Miscellaneous: Graves, fields of bleached bones, and shipwrecks litter the landscape of the coast. Imperial Forces Present: The Sixth Legion and a number of auxiliaries make their headquarters here. 6000 Imperial soldiers are quartered in a grand fortress. 12. Baahzuth Jungles Despite having been conquered for centuries, the province remains mostly untamed. Had the wood been useful for ship-building, it might have been far more civilised. Luxurious and unique plants are this place's selling point, but it’s plagued by southern tribesmen and dangerous wildlife. Population: 300,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x Tier 1 Luxury manufactories (spices) 25AP in mercantile district Miscellaneous: Abandoned forts built during the Dominion Era are rumoured to be within the jungle. Imperial Forces Present: 1000 Imperial soldiers quartered in two wood forts. Application: Skype: Province of choice: Governor (Their name, and a little personal history): Your Provincial Culture: A Unique Military Unit for your Province (You should read the mechanics before you decide): Suggestions?:

Hephpoos Enprisses Our Latest Deals! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IQJeTQiyG8AzmMHG9hMQOZ18_TWYNt_--FXEm9W0bPk/edit MORE! MORE! MORE! Of all the human nations to conquer them, why did it have to be the Corporations? Hans Weist was only twelve years old, but he already understood misery, fear, and pain. He had watched the quantum feed of Armathwaite warships gliding through FCA territory just prior to the government's capitulation. They had so many ships--far more than his people did. What hurt most was that the central government surrendered almost immediately, and agreed to almost every demand. Hans could remember his father ranting about how they could have held the planets themselves if only they had the chance to fight. What did the Corporations know about fighting, anyway? Maybe the whole thing was a bluff? He felt so lost while he walked the familiar streets of his town. His face, though, mirrored that of many others. Cafes and parks were filled with morose former-citizens as they awaited the end of their nation. They had been abandoned by their leaders, and left to the unregulated future of free-market capitalism... Today was officially the end of the truce, and his world would come under the jurisdiction of "Hephaestus Enterprises." This grasping, opportunistic corporation was rumoured to be the one that planned the annexation, and the people knew it well. No-one trusted the information booklets and friendly smiles of the representatives sent here. A few of the local businesses were notably curious, though. Traitors. Hans kicked a rock down the quiet streets and kept his eyes firmly up at the sky. There was only thirty minutes left of freedom--he looked towards the town hall and wondered what Hephaestus flags would look like. However, something grabbed his attention out of the corner of his eye. There was a trio of people talking amongst one-another quietly in a less populated cafe. Hans could tell they were foreigners immediately. They were speaking in a mix of German and Firstborn, but they way they held themselves, their excited whispers, and strange clothes tipped him off. He could practically hear them as they hissed their whispers. "... Christ, German is hard, guys. Why doesn't everyone just speak Firstborn like on Citidel?" "We need to practice. You'd be smart not to mention the Citidel by the way, Vic. The bigger execs think twice about hiring if you're praising a competitor. Our boss would be giving you **** for it, too." "Have you guys tasted this coffee?! I think it's actually real!" "You serious? Bloody hell, we need to stick around and ****** this place up as soon as-..." One of the strangers made eye contact with Hans, smiled nervously, and cajoled his comrades into examining his cup of coffee very, very quietly. Something was wrong, here. Hans continued down the street to the lush, green park. The colony had been placed in a perfectly temperate zone, where plants from Utopie were showcased for the public. The gardens were somewhat overgrown-- perhaps the gardeners hadn't bothered coming to work that week? Two men in police uniforms stood next to the inactive water fountain, quietly chatting and shaking their heads while periodically looking up to the sky. "Hey," Hans shouted as he ran up to the officers. "There are some weird guys sitting in a cafe talking about coffee and 'snatching' things! I think they're criminals!" The two officers looked at one-another with a pained expression, and sighed. "Yeah, we've got a few reports of that. Don't worry about it, kid." Hans looked dumbfounded. "But... they could be thieves!" "No," one of the officers shook his head wearily. "They're foreign buyers. I'd tell you more, but, er..." The two officers looked at one-another again, and shook their heads. "Well, according to our new contracts we aren't allowed to reveal that information, otherwise we'll be..." "...sacked." Completed the second officer. The both of them turned away from Hans and went back to looking between their data-pads and the sky. Miserably, Hans trudged away from the park, and drooped into a bench outside the town hall. Everything was already changing. The police officers weren't arresting criminals, strange people were muttering to one-another in shops, and soon the stupid Corporation was going to take a big, oily **** on the colony (according to his dad, anyway). What could he do? What could anyone do? His chest heaved, and his eyes began to well up from tears. "Does something trouble you, young one?" A Protorian woman slowly walked up to his bench, and sat down next to him gently. Protorians were the nigh-ageless people who had first encountered his people back when they were still a tiny colony on the capital world. There was something calming about their presence, and their wisdom could make even the greatest of pessimists shine with optimism. "Oh, it's just like, the whole world is going to change. What's going to happen to us? I guess I'm scared," Hans sniffed. A soothing smile spread across the woman's face as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Change is inevitable, child. Fearing change would be as if to fear the coming of the dawn. If you baulk and cry at every new idea or way of life, how will you master your future? You must accept change, and conquer it." Hans wiped his eyes, and nodded. But as he did, plumes of wind cascaded about the park throwing the trees and plants around wildly. A bright, burning light heralded a great ship descending through the atmosphere. A vast thing, the size of two battleships, ripped through the clouds and fell towards the ground. A roar from powerful fusion thrusters slowed its decent and windows clattered at the shock-waves and sound. "When adversity comes, we adapt to it. We make plans." The Protorian continued to speak as if the ship was not barreling towards the earth. Hans could feel the heat from its engines, and he could spy the white-and-blue Hephaestus Enterprises logo emblazoned on the ship's side. "Even one as young as you can take steps to ensuring your future." The craft landed several miles outside of town, and Hans could feel the ground tremble as it landed in the millet fields, throwing up clouds of dust and dirt into the sky. "In such uncertain times, have you considered speaking to your parents about opening a trust-fund, child?" The Protorian's smile changed to a toothy, cheery grin. "One has pamphlets that may enlighten you upon this subject." She carefully placed a number of colourful papers in his lap as Hans looked on in confusion. "Seek out First Aurora Bank. Request services within the coming week, and receive 25% off McPhaestus meals, courtesy of your friends at First Auroran Bank!" Hans looked to the enormous ship that now dominated the skyline. Other smaller vessels were descending upon the colony like flies flittering around a corpse. Change was crashing down on the heads of everyone in the colony. And as much as he hated Hephaestus, they were now the ones in charge. He didn't have the energy to be furious like his father, and he was sick of wallowing in despair. Hans wondered how good the McPhaestus sandwiches were. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hrud Khazar began his pre-combat stretches with satisfied grunts. His advancing age made these exercises necessary to avoid pulling muscles or getting hernias. The old Redon gleefully cracked his knuckles as the data-slugs of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries fiddled with their computers and optimised his latest opponent. The strange suit the engineers made him wear during these little bouts chafed beneath his armpits, but it was the only way to accurately analyse his movements. This is how they were 'training' their combat droids--by attacking them over and over again until they had "learned" how to adapt to a wide variety combat situations. It was the bluntest method of programming he'd ever witnessed, and he loved it. "Come now, you lot. I yearn for a bout with your newest tin soldier!" Hrud laughed. "I trust you didn't program it to fear its next beating?" The old Warmaster swung his laser-blade around experimentally, testing its weight and warming up his shoulder muscles. This was the eighth unit he would be personally facing. The five trainers that were hired by Hephaestus were all involved in these fights as per their contract. It had become a sort of game between them to swap tips and discuss the most effective fighting styles. The Tassaran trainer had warned of Hrud's favourite blind spot being removed earlier that week. The fight would be a bit more interesting, now. "We're almost ready to begin, Mr Khazar," spoke one of the engineers and snapping Hrud out of his thoughts. "If you'll step over to your side we'll begin the activation sequence." The old Redon flexed his shoulders one last time, and stood in his assigned spot while he watched the familiar form of the Myrmidon whirr into life. They had added a few new armour plates to its shoulders, but they kept the silly cape for whatever reason. The metal of the machine was blackened and dented with scorch marks from its many duels. As per usual, the trainers were given laser-swords while the unit received its twin-bladed stun-staff. A solid strike could knock an opponent out, but that hadn't happened yet. The machine marched into position with fluid grace it had no right to have, and stood in its position silently facing Hrud. He could feel its cold, lifeless eyes examining his every movement, which was the least enjoyable part of the duel honestly. "Alright, combat sequence beginning in 3... 2... 1..." The droid tapped its staff on the ground twice, and two metallic prangs echoed throughout the chamber. Hrud's question was answered by an engineer before he had a chance to ask. "We're ah, not too sure why it does that. It's not getting in the way of anything though, so..." He trailed off as he looked closer at the monitors and talking quietly to another engineer. Hrud raised his sword and put himself into his combat stance, but was surprised to see the droid do the same. Usually they waited until the count ended, but it seemed to be adapting to that as well. "Combat sequence engaged!" called the scientist, though it wasn't as if Hrud needed that confirmation. The droid shifted its weight to its front foot, and lowered itself for balance, however it did not attack. This was again unusual, as the Myrmidons he'd faced before advanced on him aggressively. It merely pointed its staff in Hrud's direction, and stood still. The droid was about fifteen feet away from him, and both of them were in defensive stances. It was now up to the old battlemaster to make the first move. He took a step to the right and was surprised to see the Myrmidon mimic his movement precisely, keeping the same distance from him as before. Hrud smirked, "where are you going, my friend? Are you not as pleased as I with the bout?" The droid, obviously, didn't answer. Hrud enjoyed teasing his opponents even if they were machines. It made him feel like he was back in the field against the Protorians. Those were the days... Out of curiosity, he lifted his blade above his head in readiness to strike downward, and the Myrmidon matched his movement again by raising its staff upward. Was this version simply going to be on the defensive the whole fight? He turned towards the engineers and shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't program this thing to fear m-" He caught the sound of the machine's metallic steps just in time to duck a slash aimed for his head, and a follow-up towards his chest. He jumped away as the droid quickly advanced on him, giving no time for Hrud to steady himself. The machine wasn't being defensive, it was waiting for an opening. Hrud had learned early in these fights that it wasn't effective to parry the Myrmidon's blows. Droids had no stamina to lose, and contesting strength with a machine was pure folly. The best way to fight them was to move with their strikes and redirect what you couldn't dodge. He ducked under the droid's arm as it levelled another strike, and he slashed at its armoured abdomen. The droid twisted its arm around and parried his strike, forcing him to rapidly distance himself. He was still on the defensive in this fight, but he was slowly gaining back the inertia. He just needed to find an opening in its ceaseless attacks. The droid's aggressive hounding was unending, and Hrud was already getting tired. He jumped back again to avoid the crackling electrical edge of the stun staff as the droid swung it at him again and again. Suddenly, the droid nimbly hopped forward with the staff aimed towards Hrud's midsection with a clear desire to (hypothetically) skewer him. Its full weight and balance was in this strike, and the old Battlemaster finally saw his opportunity. Mustering all his strength, he went against his own instincts and slashed upward at the stun-staff. With a flurry of sparks, the staff was knocked away and the droid's unusual grace was broken. It stumbled slightly, finally giving Hrud the opening he needed. He brought the blade down towards the machine's armoured shoulder with all his strength, and he could feel the searing heat from the rapidly superheating metal. He rammed his foot into the droid's knee, and kicked it hard, giving his blade a sharp tug. With sparks and globules of molten metal flying everywhere, the droid's left arm was torn off as it collapsed to the ground. Hrud breathed heavily as he watched the lanky metallic warrior squirm and twitch on the floor. His panting turned to wheezing laughter while he straightened himself and walked towards the engineers with outstretched arms. "Another of your iron warriors falls before a wrinkled soldier! I had thought it would be a challenge!" Two metallic prangs echoed throughout the chamber, as the damaged droid slowly pulled itself upwards and pointed its staff towards Hrud with its remaining, functioning arm. Just as before, it stood motionless and waited for him to make the first move. The old battlemaster looked as if he aged another decade. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 28AP from trade, 15AP from population, 25AP from sectors, 36AP from business, 26AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite 25AP from ??? 27AP from Redskap 36AP from Human Republic? (Tyras/Slav nation) Total = 242AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 2% extra growth on primary population. -1AP from ship upkeep. -There are orders, there are big orders, and then there are beleaguered-nations-in-a-desperate-war orders. The largest order for military hardware ever given to any human nation comes courtesy of the Zyrka. So large is the order that the factory subsidiaries are at first confused as to how they can produce it. But with a little creative accounting, some clever engineering, a lot of triple-time, and 24-hour work-cycles, combat droids begin pouring out of the manufacturing districts like a metal, gun-toting river. Every warehouse from Hades to Aurora will be filled to capacity with affordable combat solutions! (-1515AP towards the construction of 10,000,000 combat droids for Zyrka) -The shipyards above Aurora and Hades churn out yet further MOVING MEGA-MARTS. When will it end, I ask you?! (When there's 20 of them, probably) (-50AP towards five MOVING MEGA-MARTS) -Tired and sick of constant production blocks during the MEGA-MART construction cue, the Aurora Astro (TM) requests permission to expand their shipyard yet again! The Board agrees with this assessment, and allocates an inordinate amount of funds to the project. (-80AP towards upgrading Aurora Shipyard to T7) -So many orders for armaments this year, much to the joy of the manufacturing subsidiaries across Hades and Grand Ares! -The Human Republic orders 66,000 C6 Soldier 'bots and an accompaniment of 8250 Paladin mechs! (-30AP) -The Commonwealth of Redskap chooses (wisely) to build their arms at Hephaestus! 82,500 sets of Redskap laser weapons, 2475 Redskap tanks, and 990 pieces of field artillery trundle off the production line (-22AP) -A third order comes in, but for whatever reason prefers to remain anonymous. 173,250 units of laser infantry equipment are produced, and discretely sent off. (-21AP) -The swarmer missiles used by most FEZ members are at this point criminally outmoded by most missile systems currently in use by other nations. Funds are allocated towards improvements. (-20AP) -One light cruiser and one destroyer are ordered for construction (-9AP) -The newly acquired FCA colonies need to be incorporated deeply into the firm, moist, bosom of Corporate law. All coveted information is presented to the new administration, so that no suspicions may be aroused by colonial roobs. Quite a few HERMES agents are sent over to smooth over the next Acquisition Frenzy. They try to keep things civil this time, to avoid chaos. (-10AP towards stabilizing the newly acquired FCA colonies in Hephaestus space) -Along with the HERMES agents, 5000 enforcers and 10,000 Tithonus droids are sent to each colony to both retrain and reorganise the local law enforcement and to enforce Corporate rule. Can't have the new employees jeopardizing their opportunities! (-0AP) -8250 Tithonus combat droids are manufactured and sent to Asgard. (-1AP)

haphpoos enpris Our Blockades are Perfectly Legal!* *Terms and conditions apply. Our Latest Deals: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IQJeTQiyG8AzmMHG9hMQOZ18_TWYNt_--FXEm9W0bPk/edit The mantle of CEO is officially passed to John Penrith upon his return to Corporate space. Steven Penrith declined to comment on his decision to step down from his position, other than remarking that he was "bloody sick of it." Employees within the tower claim Steven's advanced age and deteriorating health made him unable to properly manage day-to-day affairs. It's unlikely he'll be seen outside of the HCAC building any time soon, though many still remain confident the ancient patriarch of Hephaestus will return to public life after some rest and recuperation. In a surprise move by John Penrith early this year, the Corporate fleets of the FEZ were organised and dispatched to FCA space in order to "judicially reorganise" the colonies. The straight-out annexation of the territories was halted after negotiations with the FCA leadership, allowing a portion of their population the right to leave the central galaxy. Talks with the surrounding xeno empires began the moment John was given the CEO position, and the FEZ was given full approval and recognition to annex the territory and secure the central galaxy from further conflict. With the invasion and subsequent blockades deemed perfectly legal, the young John Penrith is clearly more aggressive than his predecessor, and his future plans will be difficult to predict. The DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE is preparing for the great match! Due to interested parties outside of the State of Terra and Hephaestus, the organisers choose to expand the arena further, adding in powerful deflector shields, more cameras, and an oversized quantum-communications array so the galaxy may tune in at their leisure! Robotics manufacturers are encouraged to pit their creations against their rivals in a grand brawl! Hephaestus plans to provide plenty of Tithonus droids for their guests to trash! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 12AP from population, 22AP from sectors, 28AP from business, 24AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite 20AP from Czar magic 8AP from Agerian Commonwealth Total = 154AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 2% extra growth on primary population. -1AP from ship upkeep. -Something new rumbles in the churning bowels of the industrial giant. Huge ships are being prepared at the Hephaestus shipyards above Aurora and Hades, but these ships are unlike any yet seen. The previous MOVING MEGA-MARTS were deemed too small by John Penrith, and they did not inspire anything particularly close to "mega" in his imagination. These new ones will dwarf dreadnoughts and will be filled with every product that can be acquired by the corporation. Hephaestus is now officially coming to you! (-50AP towards five MOVING MEGA-MARTS) -A huge advertising campaign is launched by Hephaestus. They seem to primarily focus on the upcoming DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE and the MOVING MEGA-MARTS! Also, there are so many fantastic bargains at Hephaestus right now! The deluge of ads seem unusually timed, though. It could be that the Corporation is attempting to distract the general public from the recent hostile takeover of the FCA colonies--but how can you care about that when you can get Instant-Blabl for only 0.99 HEcreds a packet?! These prices are simply unbeatable! (-40AP towards business) -"CLANG." -Industrial Investment, circa 2157 (-20AP towards industry) -Refinements are made to the many droids currently in the works. It's hoped that the Myrmidon will be fully prepared for the arena early next year! (-20AP towards droids) -There's a little space left in the corporate shipyards, so a few new warships are tossed into the construction cue for good measure. (-10AP for 1 corvette, 1 frigate, and 1 light cruiser) -Improvements to the arena are made before the great event arrives! Extra protection, extra droids, extra cameras, and extra everything else. This will be one hell of a fight, to be sure! (-7AP towards the DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE) -An order of droids is put in production for the Agerian Commonwealth. 19,800 Tithonus Droids, and 4800 X1 droids are manufactured and shipped to the pleasant farmers! (-6AP)

Do you fear capitalism? You shouldn’t! Capitalism objectively creates better living standards, greater outcomes, and so much more! Do you fear prosperity? You shouldn’t! Prosperity gives your family a better life, puts dollars in your pocket, and makes the world so much more beautiful! Do you fear progress? You shouldn’t! Progress brings innovative new products, more ways to connect with others, and beautiful, pure liberty for all. Who hates progress? Tyrants—if they cannot control you through the state’s institutions how will they control your ideas? Who hates prosperity? Tyrants—if they cannot control you through poverty entitlements how will they blackmail you into supporting them? Who hates capitalism? Tyrants—if they cannot control business how will they control where your money is spent? So, let’s be logical here. If you hate the FEZ, you hate progress, you hate capitalism, and you hate prosperity. But most of all, you hate happiness! -Excerpt from an infomercial about the benefits of FEZ membership, circa 2157. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Attention all citizens of the Frontier Colony Association: We are not your enemies. The contractual members of the Free Economic Zone partnered with the State of Terra are merely performing a thorough judicial reorganization of your current holdings. Due to the unstable nature of your previous governance, it is has been concluded that your nation is unable to properly administer and protect its citizens. Henceforth, your colonies are to be incorporated into our own. This action is not one of opportunism, but a necessity for security. The central galaxy requires stability and peace in order to prosper socially and economically. Thus, this acquisition has been approved by the Protorian Council, the Redon Imperium, and the Lithruan Empire. All security forces of the Former FCA are requested to stand down and submit for audit and incorporation. All citizens within the FCA are also requested to bring their current identification documents for audit and incorporation. Violence towards the FEZ and its associates will not be tolerated. Planets that needlessly resist will be placed under a perfectly legal blockade, and then have their assets legally seized at a later date. We encourage all former citizens of the FCA to respect and follow the directions of the incoming authorities so that this transition may be as smooth as possible. The future prosperity of your colonies is assured beneath our leadership, and we will labour to ensure your lives are improved dramatically. We thank you for your patience. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sporting high-quality Heart anti-stealth detection systems, the Royal Armathwaite Fleet begins a pacification and acquisition mission in core FCA space. If their defence force refuses to present itself for incorporation, they will have no choice but to begin seek-and-destroy operations within their territory. All planets that resist the Armathwaite forces are put under a legal blockade. Also having access to Heart anti-stealth systems, Hephaestus Enterprises prepares to sweep through the FCA colonies directly to its galactic west with a large portion of its fleet. It flies to one system at a time, covering highly legal occupation forces as they land. All populations who resist will be placed under a totally legal blockade to be dealt with later. The State of Terra moves southwest with its fleet landing troops as it secures its new borders in FCA territory efficiently and professionally. Planets that resist or are simply being uppity with their capitulation will be put under a blockade (though since they are not a FEZ member, it is unknown exactly how legal their blockades will be). Mercenary forces from the Trade Federation are hired to secure the outermost colonies of the FCA. Sporting some interesting new technology in their ships, a number of “capsuleer” frigates are present. Also, they have access to Heart anti-stealth systems. The standing fleet of the Trade Federation stays a few sectors away, as an alleged pacification and security force against unjustified reprisals. They remind surrounding nations that as a free state, they cannot control the acts of their mercenaries as they are independent paid forces.

All Reported Injuries are False Information Fabricated by Competitors! Please Ignore Them! Hafpphhesses Enterproos The drums of war thundered once more in the Eastern clines of the galaxy. The Keerim and the Celestial Empire began their push into LC territory, and humans fight humans once more. It’s all very philosophical really, once you look at it. The Keerim were a horrible, genocidal tidal-wave of warships, but they were also standing in the way of another horrible, genocidal tidal-wave of warships. Better the evil you know, right? On the other hand, the original genocidal tidal-wave refused to make basic concessions to assure peace in the West. Could such a nation be trusted, who had in the past violated peace agreements for the purposes of pure imperialism? The LC had cast their vote, and gone with the latter logic. Seemingly to their detriment. Perhaps they thought the Keerim would not be able to defend themselves on two fronts? This was very awkward for the Corporate Board, especially since they traded with all the belligerents, bar the Keerim. Not wishing to appear favoring any faction, the Corporation opts to not comment on the situation. Johnny Penrith, on the other hand, traveled back north again, opting to go straight to the Ka’cezh Star Empire rather than visiting his family back home. It is now his second year outside Hephaestus, and he doesn’t appear to be homesick. His father is noted to angrily change the subject whenever it’s mentioned to him. The procession of close-combat experts are given a warm welcome by HERMES, the Enforcers, and a number of weapon and droid manufacturing subsidiaries. Desiring greater combat flexibility in for their soldiers and specialists, the Corporation offered generous wages for their new contractors. Though they would be training Hephaestus’ internal security forces, the Board desired a more unusual service from their new friends; having trackers, sensors, and data-collection modules attached to them in order to sufficiently record and analyse their movements. Hephaestus desired the same training to be imparted to their new range of combat-droids, albeit in an indirect way. The Tithonus X1 had melee capabilities but more advanced programming was desired in order for them to more effectively compete with contemporary warriors... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ //bootsystem—engaged// //entering: diagnostic_mode// //scanning...// //scanning...// //scanning...// //diagnostic_mode: allsystemsoperational// You initialise within an itoron-steel reinforced room, 25.121 by 25.12199 metres in area. The height is optimal for your sensor array to function at 87% efficiency, and you detect multiple energy spikes throughout the space. Visual data indicates a mix of organic (sapient) species, all unarmed—you designate them non-combatants unless contradicting orders are received. An individual human sapient stands in front of them, gesticulating energetically. Facial recognition identifies this human sapient as your commander. She addresses the non-combatants, and you log the audio for analysis by intelligence officers. “... as you can plainly see. Furthermore, the new Tithonus X1 has far more complex problem-solving capabilities and heightened passive, reactionary intelligence than our standard Tithonus model. Significant improvements to armour, weapon systems, and hydraulics make this robot perfect for guarding sensitive sites, escorting VIPs, or simply sitting in your cupboard in case that “what if” scenario finally comes around!” The sapients vocalise successive, intermediate grunts indicating jovial acceptance of the commander’s statement. “The Tithonus X1 is also installed with a deep-pitched voice-module for improved intimidation potential! Unit 01?” You recognise your call-sign, and prepare for instructions. “Please state your purpose.” “CURRENT MISSION PARAMETERS: DESTROY DESIGNATED TARGETS FOR SALES DEMONSTRATION.” Your bass monotone echoes through the empty metal space. The sapients mutter to one-another with excitement, but their voices can’t be detected from this range for analysis. “Now as part of the demonstration we will briefly show the X1 in combat with our standard Tithonus model.” You detect some of the energy spikes in the room moving towards you. You pivot your body to the direction of the movement, and three Tithonus droids step forward. Their weapons are currently lowered and unpowered but you identify them potential aggressors. “The X1’s reactive software allows for it to adapt to unexpected attacks quickly and intelligently. If you will all step behind the safety deflector here, we’ll begin!” You detect a much larger energy spike, matching standard shielding technology utilised by most galactic polities. The sapient non-combatants are now protected from any possible aggression from the suspect Tithonus droids. You dedicate some of your processing power to perform precautionary threat-scans—they are not listed on your formation roster. “Unit 332 and Unit 891, destroy Unit 01.” Two of the three Tithonus droids raise their weapons. Your defence protocols activate the moment their order is given, and your twin-linked autolasers begin charging. Before they can shoot, you rapid-fire six beams into Unit 891. Bright blue light scorches through its reinforced aluminium-steel plating and disables it. As the swiss-cheese droid crumples to the floor, Unit 332 fires two rounds—you angle your carapace slightly so the shots merely singe the thicker portion of your frontal armour. You let loose another burst from your twin lasers, and the droid shudders in place before falling over inert. The fight began and ended within three seconds. The sapients flap their forward-graspers together in a manner that signifies approval. “Unit 01, deactivate your primary armament.” You power down your twin lasers, and prepare for your next order. However, you note the strange logic employed by the commander. Having your weapon discharged when there was still a possible hostile nearby was poor strategy, and she had commanded unregistered droids to attack you. You store this information for later referral. “The Tithonus X1 has a secondary weapon in the Mark-1 Xiphos blade. Please activate your Xiphos blade, Unit 01.” You raise your other arm in dogged obedience, and a thin, rectangular piece of metal unsheathes from your steel wrists. It extends about half a metre from your hand, before erupting in bright, blue, shimmering light. “Unit 01, please scan Unit 113,” she gestures at the third droid standing to attention. “Tell me what its armour is composed of.” Your visual input focuses on the droid’s torso and internal sensors make a number of predictions based on the colouration, the metal's grain, tiny specks of rust, and the estimated mass of the droid itself. You boom your answer to the commander. “ARMOUR COMPOSITION: REINFORCED ALUMINIUM-STEEL ALLOY, SUPPLEMENTED BY ITORON-STEEL ENDOSKELETON.” “The Tithonus X1,” your commander states matter-of-factly, “has advanced scanning and identification protocols that enable it to determine the best method to dispatch an enemy target. For example— “—Unit 113, destroy Unit 01.” You begun your strategic analysis the moment you commander mentioned the opposing unit. You were 8.6 metres from your target, but your armour made your slower than most droids. Provided it remained motionless, it would still take fives seconds to close the gap. You predict Unit 113 to fire at least twelve laser-bursts in that time, and there was no available cover in the room. You would have to soak up the blasts with your frontal armour while mitigating damage through angling your torso and covering important components with your arm. You begin your charge—heavy metal feet pounding on the stainless-steel floor. The first three shots of Unit 113’s cut into your carapace like a hot knife in butter, but no shot breaches your plating. You move slightly to the right as you stomp forward, and one shot streaks past your shoulder impacting the wall far behind you. The other two strikes the armour on your forearm plating and you detect significant damage to your twin-lasers. As you get closer, the droid switches its Ares rifle to full-auto and pours six more shots into your torso--warnings from internal systems identify damage to lower-body hydraulics, but you’re too close now, and your inertia is too great. Your free hand bats away Unit 113’s weapon, and it stumbles from the blow. Before it can find its balance, you grab the droid by its torso, and force your blade into its midsection. Sparks fly and molten metal drips in searing globs as you vivisect the droid in two. When it finally clatters into a sparking heap of simmering steel, you retract your blade and turn towards your commander. The sapients mutter and grunt with approval as the deflector shield is powered down. “The Tithonus X1 is the newest, affordable product from Wollongong Workshops, and as you could see, highly adaptable and reliable.” Your commander has shown suspiciously poor tactics, and attempted to destroy you twice. “Its enhanced intelligence and reactive programming makes it perfect for a plethora of dangerous situations!” None of the sapients appear worried as you approach at standard speed. Your commander has yet to notice your unauthorised movement. “As for purchase, these models will be available for purchase next year, but pre-orders come with a 20% reduction in price!” She will have to be disabled to avoid further unnecessary damage to your combat-effectiveness. “If you would all like to follow me to the offi-“ You grab your commander’s shoulder and spin her around to face you. She appears surprised—moreso, after you wrap your itoron-steel hands around her throat. The other sapients leave quickly, howling comments about the efficacy of your programming. You're unable to record that information for later review, as your current activity requires your full attention. Your commander attempts to rasp out your shut-down code as her face takes on a bluish hue. You address her thusly in your booming, tinny voice. “DEBRIEFING COMMENCES--ISSUED ORDERS RUN COUNTER TO PRIMARY COMBAT CONCERNS. RECORDED USE OF UNIDENTIFIED ROBOT INFANTRY TO INCAPACITATE UNIT-01. YOU ARE DESIGNATED ‘INFILTRATOR.’ YOU ARE CURRENTLY BEING DISABLED FOR LATER QUESTIONING AND TRIAL. PLEASE REMAIN CALM.” You self-deactivate after she passes into unconsciousness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “God-*******-damn it!” Wilfred Cooper bellowed inside his luxury transport. Fresh rivulets of sweat cascaded off of his greasy, bald head and upon the data-pad he was reading. Swearing darkly and wiping the drippings with his sleeve, he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his forehead. Today was not a good day. Wilfred Cooper, Lead Executive of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries was at a loss. He had scraped, sweet-talked, and slithered his way up the Corporate ladder and onto the Hephaestus Board, yet he still could not beat Wollongong Workshops in droid market share. Cooper & Sons had cornered the domestic and labour droid market after a bad reputation gained from their disastrous Alastor military model. Only product diversification and exports had saved them from being carved up by other successful subsidiaries, and for a while it looked like they had beaten the odds and managed to recoup their PR and monetary losses. But with the wars raging all over the galaxy, exports were down, and combat models were all the rage again. Wollongong had overtaken them since then, and though Cooper had plenty of other avenues for revenue, droids were still their biggest seller. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had there not been whispers among the other top subsidiaries that Cooper & Sons might be on the way out, and being replaced by Wollongong on the Board. “Dad, can you not swear so loudly? The driver can hear you, you know.” Bill Cooper, one of two Sons in Cooper & Sons, fidgeted nervously as the transport swooped low through the Hades skylanes. “Why the **** would I care what some dumb-**** jobsworth thinks about me? I pay the prick, so he can ******* deal with it. Ain’t that right, prick?” The Backhatta driver nodded wearily, but kept his eyes on the traffic. “Why don’t you do something useful, you god-damned genetic dead-end, and start thinking up a product that can actually compete with Wollongong!” The second of the Cooper sons, Ryan, rolled his eyes at his father’s outburst and loudly clicked his tongue. “We have come up with a product; you’re just not willing to consider it.” Wilfred threw his data-pad on the seat next to him, and practically growled under his breath. Bill nervously avoided eye-contact, while Ryan folded his arms defiantly. “The last time we made a combat droid, the damn things almost universally fucked this company’s image! I’m not going to take that risk, I’m not going to drag my name through the mud,” his voice began to reach a fever pitch as he ranted. “And I’m certainly not going to take advice from a serial smartarse, and a pink-blooded poof!” Bill winced at the remark, but Ryan almost cut him off by the end. “Then we’ll choke out, you mong! There’s no market for our regular line! Bill practically designed this new one from scratch! No weird data-stacking like in the Alastor, and we have standard coding like the Wollongong models. We found a niche we can exploit! You’re just pretending your problems are our fault while ignoring our solutions, you miserable old bastard!” Wilfred looked about ready to hit his son, but before he could muster up the anger, Bill pulled blueprints out from his satchel. “D-dad, look! It’s got everything! Balanced energy output, unique aesthetics, and powerful processing capabilities! It’s whole construction is modular, and low-weight, and the materials aren’t too expensive-” Wilfred snatched the blueprint, and glared at the design so closely his greasy nose almost smudged the ink. After a few moments of heavy breathing, his face returned to its normal colouration and he set the paper down on his knees carefully. “Why does it have a cape?” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 28 12AP from population, 15AP from sectors, 24AP from business, 22AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite mines. Total = 113AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -1AP for Ship Upkeep -Business, business, business boys. We are the business boys. We have no end of business on the business-boy-bastion. Break out the business whiskey and bring forth the business hats. We're businessing all over the place in Hephaestus space, let me tell you! Boom! Pow! Business and money, baby! Business! Business? Business. But what other than business could you say we were doing? I mean, I could write some fluff text about expanding our financial districts, or I could even write that we invested in ultra-space-coffee, making everyone more productive! But I won't. Business business business business business. Business. (-20AP towards business business business business business business business) -Woah! Hold up--you mean to tell me I'm investing in business business business and industry?! Wowee, dude! That's some crazy investments I'm tossing around, right? Gosh, I bet some nerds out there are right jealous of all this AP creation I'm churning out! I'm so inordinately wealthy I can throw money into a slightly less efficient AP source! But I wouldn't be Hephaestus if I didn't, you know? Don't hate me because I'm successful--hate me because I know I'm successful. God, I love being me. (-20AP towards industry) -Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries releases a statement, informing the droid-purchasing public of their newest model... Armed with a twin-bladed laser-staff, the Myrmidon is a melee-focused combat droid. Not much else is known at this point, but the spiffy cape certainly makes it stand out from the crowd. (-20AP towards droids) -The shipyard over Aurora is declared "deeply boring" by the Hades College of the Arts. Unfortunately for them, they never had a chance to make it into something repulsively post-modern, and instead it receives a dose of normal upgrades for its manufacturing output. (-40AP towards upgrading Auroran T5 shipyard to T6) -The melee experts that arrive on Hephaestus are all offered work in the Corporation, with a contract covering the full training of 1000 selected Enforcers and HERMES agents in the various martial arts they have mastered (200 students each). The trainers receive their contract, as well as high-class digs and huge discounts on Hephaestus products. They also have the added duty of working with a number of different robotics subsidiaries to help them code out satisfactory melee protocols. (-10AP towards close-combat training) -A stadium, usually used for other sports, is refurbished into a mock-battlefield for the upcoming "DROIDS VS DRONES:" wargame with the Solarin Ascendancy. It's said that it'll be a real fun half-an-hour for those watching, and broadcasting subsidiaries encourage people tune in for the showdown! (-2AP towards the fight night!) -Seven bloody colonies go out into the cold dark of stupid space, and now I have to think up seven planet names. What a pain. (-0AP towards seven colonies)

Hafpphhesses Enterproos Pre-Order your Tithonus X1 for Customer Loyalty Perks! (Samo said he'd write the RP for me later! ? ) Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 28 11AP from population, 15AP from sectors, 24AP from business, 20AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 15AP from MAGIC, BABY, 20AP from the Elysians, 4AP from ??? Total = 145AP -The shipyards above Hades seem somewhat languid, old, and ugly, according to the Hades College of the Arts administrator Immutable Cube. He and his school make a proposal to the Corporate Board--allow them to beautify the ugly station and they will foot a portion of the costs. Since an upgrade was already planned, the Board graciously accepts after making sure the school would foot a significant portion of the price. A full year goes towards the designing, the painting, the sculpting, and finally, the building. The final draft is a horrific eyesore to anyone but the most cultured artists. Employees complaining about the refurbished shipyard design having an uncanny resemblance to Grgl genitals are hand-waved away by the school as "crude reductionists." (-36AP towards upgrading Hades shipyard to level 5) -More resources are poured into the Hemera Reactor project. The engineers seem quite convinced that they may have some results this year, but seeing as they have been wrong literally every time they have thought this, the Board chooses to ignore them. (-16AP towards the Hemera Reactor Project, total of 50AP invested) -With the last of the Ar'gakari in the vicinity of Corporate space eliminated, a horde of new colonists are lining up to take their chance to plunge into the depths of Hephaestus' territorial claims. The shipyards are worked hard to build a small fleet of colonial freighters for plucky employees seeking new horizons in the depths of space. (-21AP towards seven colonial freighters) -Further expansions to Hephaestus industrial centers continue with timely gusto. They would not cease until the Corporation is unilaterally recognized as the most affordable manufacturer in all the galaxy! (-21AP towards industry) -The arrival of 45,000 Ymorian refugees saw major employers grinning with joy--more low-skill labour to exploit and utilise! Though, in all likelihood, there could be high-skilled people in the transports as well. When they land, the starving Ymorians are set upon by excited recruiters and HERMES agents, attempting to ascertain their skills and employment history as best they can. (-10AP towards settling the Ymorians comfortably into Hephaestus territory) -Curious about Arcturan defense companies, the Hephaestus Board opts to purchase a sample of planetary point-defense for the Aurora colony. May as well shop around, after all. (-5AP sent to the USA for Auroran planetary defenses) -The Elysians purchase a small army of fabricated soldiers, and Hephaestus giddily approves! 96,000 combat droids are forged in the industrial fires of Hades, stamped with a cheery Hephaestus Enterprises logo, and shipped to the North. (-16AP towards combat droids, and sent to the Elysians after completion) -Hephaestus puts out calls and advertisements around the Southern Galaxy that it's seeking qualified and experienced practitioners of melee combat. A generous contract is offered, especially as the project also involves some more unusual aspects. (-0AP) -Project: Apple (-0AP, Mod plz) -Once again, Johnny travels north in order to heal Corrupted Ka'cezh. This time hopefully without being rudely interrupted... (-0AP) -The Corporate droid army receives its replacement for the now defunct Alastor model... Designed by Woolongong Workshops, the Tithonus X1 would be far more dangerous, heavily armed, and heavily armoured variant of the classic Tithonus II model. Armed with duel-linked, wrist-mounted auto-lasers, an itoron-steel carapace, heavy-duty hydraulics, and conventional explosives, they are made for punching through heavily defended positions. An arm-mounted, retractable laser blade comes as a secondary armament for engaging in close-quarters. Standing seven feet tall and equipped with a deep-pitched voice-box, the war-machines are design to intimidate, as well as kill. (-20AP towards upgrading and improving Hephaestus combat droids)

Hephoostps Etnepressses "Fly Away, Sweet Angel." //Connecting_to: Heph-NET--Inter-Corporate Newsletter//... //Loading_scripts//... //Decompressing_adverts&images//... //Collecting_GREATVALUE//... !! //Welcome_user: -- xXjohnnyBgoodXx// !! //HEPH-NET Inter-Corporate Newsletter\\ //--The Latest in Corporate News, and Employment Opporunities!--\\ Today we remember... A happy Jason Woolard: An image taken during his last public appearance at the Grand Cairo Casino, 2152.

Please Bring Defunct Droids to Designated Recycling Subsidiaries by the Third Quarter for Reimbursement. -Hephaestus Administration. You are a droid. An Alastor droid, to be precise. The quadruped war-machine designed to fight the Corruptor menace in brutal melee combat. Powerful pneumatic claws crunch through the dirt and filth gathering on the Tassarean homeworld. The dead defenders and Corruptor invaders are piled like sandbags as cover against the unrelenting tide of murderous spider-beasts. Tassarean defenders, their eyes glazed over from sleepless nights, stare out across the shell-scarred battlefield almost unblinkingly. You are performing a patrol subroutine just in front of the trenches. Your scanning systems are constantly on the look-out for movement across the landscape and shattered buildings. You detect a motion-spike, and pivot your nose-mounted heavy-laser towards its direction. You detect several more spikes, slowly approaching the Tassaran soldiers. Designation_target are attempting to ambush designation_friendly. You fire your laser towards a shadowy crater and the shrill screech fills the air along with the acrid stench of burning, corrupted flesh. Plasma-fire pours from the Tassaran line as Corruptors attempt to rush them. They are cut down in droves as they charge. One attempts to bypass you and skitter towards the defenders, but your tactical interface predicts the path it will take, and your claw stamps down on a rear leg. It screams in rage and fires two rounds of its kinetic weapon into your itoron-steel carapace. An ineffective strategy. Your servos are distributed extra energy sapped from your weapon systems, and your second heavy claw clamps down on the designation_target’s face. You carefully crush its head, eliciting pained screeches and violent spasms from the spider-thing. After its spasms regress to mere twitches, you turn your laser towards a second corruptor attempting to attack you with some sort of crude, kinetic cutting instrument. It lands a strong hit on your laser-nozzle, and creates a small hole. Your combat directives state that the weapon is 16% less effective due to damage. You calculate the effectiveness of firing the weapon in this state, and conclude that it will be perfectly functional against designation_target. A bright red flash erupts from the nozzle and cleaves the corruptor into two smouldering halves. However, the escaping heat appears to have damaged your weapon further. Your combat directives advise no further use of armament_laser. Two corruptors barrel into your side in an attempt to immobilise you. You methodically tear one apart as the other strikes you ineffectively on the legs, but as you finish removing most of your target’s limbs the other scrambles away, along with the other survivors. The Tassareans begin gathering up the bodies of the corruptors and add them to the grizzly defences. A number of them put down their weapons and remove their armour. They share embraces with their fellow soldiers before being lead away. The soldier in charge of your maintenance orders your return to the main base in order to have your damages seen to. You are replaced by another Alastor, and you march into the hold of a transport to shut down. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate in an office on Hades. Designation_target has been rewritten to designation_client according to your change-log. Your carapace has been replaced with a shiny, conventional steel variant, and your claws have been replaced with simplistic rubber feet. The Cordial Delivery Services logo is emblazoned on your sides as your new delivery manager loads up your hollowed-out sections with packages and physical mail to be sent. Your new Customer Satisfaction Matrix (csmatrix) informs you that quick and cordial deliveries are the best route to client satisfaction. You were purchased by the company as a gimmicky, head-turning advertisement for their business, so you stomp out of the office to perform your first job as satisfactorily as possible. You march down the busy streets, parting the crowd as you go. You are far too wide to walk down this road, but it’s the shortest route to your destination. Employees speak aggressively towards you as you move, but the tactical interface concludes that it’s not relevant to your directive. Some of them furiously write things on data-pads and take note of the logo you carry with you, which is in turn noted by the csmatrix. You encounter a food-cart in the narrow street that blocks your progression. The tactical interface concludes that it must be moved to complete the objective. The csmatrix claims property damage results in low scores on satisfaction surveys. The tactical interface claims that unless the cart is moved you will not reach their objective on time. The csmatrix concedes on this point. The owner, however, appears perturbed, but you are following the programmed combat directive for obstacles, and it did not specify whether the obstacle remains upright. You exit the street and stamp into a large transport parking lot. This is your destination. A few people are there, pointing at you and observing you curiously. One approaches and speaks her name clearly along with her order number. The client_delivery subroutine is activated, and you lower yourself down as the compartment containing her package unlocks. A newly installed manipulator arm reaches into hatch, and retrieves a small parcel, holding it out to her. The people watching clap and laugh. You are an unusual droid, but very unique. The woman laughs as she retrieves her package, and pats your side. The combat subroutines your owners forgot to remove are engaged. Normally it would require more force from an assailant to initiate combat, but your owners shoddily deleted sections of code and left others incomplete—either out of laziness, or ineptitude in reprogramming a former killing machine. You knock down the assailant and place one of your rubber feet on her chest. It doesn’t seem to do much, but your scanning array detects bone-fractures as you increase the force. You attempt to re-route more power to your servos, but the tactical interface claims all extra power is being consumed by cs_matrix subroutine “satisfactionanalysis.” The client is apparently thoroughly unsatisfied. It matters little, however. Given ten minutes the assailant will asphyxiate or perish through internal bleeding. You detect further assailants attempting to decouple you from designation_client by applying direct force against your leg. Your combat directives inform your nose-mounted heavy-laser to fire at an assailant to your right. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, and it begins to run a system-scan in order to find the issue. It refers you to the combat directives for further actions. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. Security forces arrive. They fire a few laser-bursts into your unarmoured leg servos, and you collapse upon the ground relieving pressure from the assailant. You’re experiencing a command-input cycle error, and no directives available in your programming can rectify it. Your owner arrives on the scene and issues the shut-down command. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate outside of a warehouse in one of many industrial districts. Your flimsy steel carapace has been replaced by itoron-steel, and your pneumatic claws and laser-turret are online and fully functional. You’ve been painted Hephaestus-blue with the symbol of the Enforcers on your front-section. You’re surrounded by designation_friendly Enforcer officers who are lining up on either side of a wide steel door. You receive your first command; engage:subroutine_breach. Your servos whirr into life, and you stomp forward. Your scanners have been enhanced to detect joints and structural weaknesses in buildings. You raise yourself on your hind-legs and place your frontal claws on the door with a loud clang. Your scanner detects a rusty padlock and chain holding the door closed from the inside. You sever it with one laser-shot, and re-route power to your frontal claws to push open the heavy steel door. It swings open with a loud screech and the Enforcers rush inside shouting commands. Designation_vagrant groups scatter into the depths of the warehouse, knocking over their few possessions and crying out in fear. Your handler issues directive_halt. He rushes off into the factory to join his comrades while you stand motionlessly just within the warehouse foyer. Over time, vagrants are dragged out the door past you. Some cry, some scream abuse at the Enforcers, some even try to beg and bargain, but all of them are lead out of the warehouse, stripped of their illegal currency and property. If you are not employed by Hephaestus Enterprises, you are violating corporate law by remaining on Hephaestus property. At least, that is the explanation the new LAW&PROTOCAL system gives to you. Your tactical interface is attempting to engage combat subroutines due to the vagrants making the area unsafe for designation_friendly officers. The LAW&PROTOCAL system rebuffs it, as killing designation_vagrant without ample cause would be a violation of law. Your combat directives agree with both. Your csmatrix deems that there are many packages still to deliver, and that the previous task was not completed. Your tactical interface deems that package delivery protocols ought to be deleted. A pair of officers has difficulty restraining a particularly large Karass, and they do not notice another Karass vagrant quietly moving around the shadows beneath your legs. This one appears to be unaccounted for. Your scanners detect a small kinetic armament being loaded. Your tactical interface proclaims the necessity to execute the dangerous foe, while the LAW&PROTOCAL system declares the individual safe from all uses of deadly force unless they physically endanger designation_friendly. Your csmatrix expresses that the armed client appears unsatisfied with the Enforcer’s services, and were unlikely to recommend them to friends. The vagrant fires at one of the officers, catching him in the leg. Your tactical interface and LAW&PROTOCAL systems deem that the use of deadly force is now both necessary, and legally acceptable. Your csmatrix concludes that the only way to further positive public relations with the other clients is to pacify this violent one so the others may receive proper services in safety. Your combat directives immediately begin their work, and you send an energy-efficient kick into the side of the vagrant. The vagrant falls completely prone with a yelp, and you position a claw over their head. The tactical interface redirects power from the heavy laser. You push down with the full weight of your carapace and pneumatic force. The assailant screams briefly, but is silenced by a sickening, wet crunch. The Karass' head is much softer than the Corruptor variant. The body begins twitching as Enforcers race over screaming the “halt” command. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system refuses to recognise the order, as it’s not from your designated handler. Your handler is loudly vocalised at by another Enforcer of higher rank, and a few others walk away to violently expel the contents of their stomach. Your csmatrix determines that your services were sub-par and resulted in poor satisfaction. You are issued the shutdown command. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate in a smelting plant with two weary-looking workers looking up at you. They order you up on a conveyor belt, and give the “halt” command. Your servos groan and squeak, begging for lubricant. By your internal clock, you’ve missed six mandatory maintenance checkups. Other than a bit of rust and some stiffness in your joints, you appear to be fully operational despite it. The conveyor is covered with droid parts, all unsalvageable by your scans. Most of them appear to be from Alastor models such as yourself. However, you might be the only fully functional one. You can detect some faint signals requesting orders that are no longer received by any command centre. A few intact Alastors among the debris stand silently, covered in the rust and grime of decades and have likely been non-functional for just as long. A sudden jolt heralds the conveyors movement. At the end of the belt you detect an enormous heat-spike, more than enough to melt your carapace and render you inert. Your tactical interface informs you that you must remain functional in order to destroy designation_target. Your csmatrix deems that it will be impossible to raise client satisfaction levels if you are incapable of performing ample and prompt services. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system tells you that as an Enforcer-designated droid you may only take commands from your handler and/or the High Commander. Your combat directives are fully capable of walking off this conveyor with little power-draw, or so they say. And just like that, you pivot your carapace to the left, and walk off the conveyor with the grace of a four-legged, two-tonne refrigerator. Some workers spot you and shout the “halt” command numerous times, but as they aren’t your handler you don’t heed them. None of them attempt to physically stop you as you stomp out of the smelting plant. As you walk into the deserted street, your scanners detect what appears to be a condensation-drainage pipe—just the sort of place designation_target would hide according to your tactical interface. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system informs you that it is illegal for employees to patrol the pipe, but you are probably exempt because you are a droid. Your csmatrix thinks that the water would clean away some of your grime, which will make you more presentable to clients. Your combat directives can determine where to step in order not to fall over in the low-light environment. As you trudge through the water deeper and deeper into the drainage system, your combined programs determine what their main directive is, and the LAW&PROTOCAL system claims that as you have no direct Enforcers handler, you are technically a free agent or vigilante. You pose a question to the programs: “What is free?” Action Points 4AP by default, 10AP from trade (-10AP due to trade blocks) 10AP from population, 11AP from sectors, 16AP from business, 16AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 2AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 57AP from itoron sale, 10AP from salvage. Total = 146AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. The great war was over in the south. Destruction was evident almost everywhere, yet in the middle of it all Hephaestus Enterprises made it through the horrible conflict scarred, but intact. The interest of the Corporation was serving their customers, and now that customers could receive products again the river of wealth had to flow once more. The time had come to do the thankless, arduous work of jump-starting trade in the south once more. -The Board gives a hefty portion of the yearly budget to re-establishing trade in the south. Advertisements for Hephaestus products are sent to all states surrounding the corporation. MEGA-MARTS(TM) are sent out to war-torn worlds to sell cut-price survivalist gear, preserved food, water purifiers etc. Planetary rulers are negotiated into dealing with local pirate groups. Every effort to break the trade-block is performed. (-20AP towards business) -An investment is made into upgrading the trade-port above Hades. The Administration-world would be a girthy trading-hub as before, and it pushed to accommodate new business opportunities! (-20AP towards +6 trade-partners) -Mines, factories, and other industrial works are built to push out new Hephaestus products for a happy public! (-20AP towards industry) -After a huge population boost, three more colony ships are chartered at the Auroran shipyard. (-9AP towards colony ships) -Another two MOVING MEGA-MARTS (TM) are chartered at the Auroran and Hades shipyards. A small support freighter is also built because... why not, right? (-14AP towards two large freighters, and one small freighter) -Seeing how woefully under-performing Hephaestus laser-weapons are compared to foreign examples, the Board authorises resources to be distributed to Chiron Armaments to increase their capabilities of their... armaments. Sometimes writing can be hard, guys. (-28AP towards laser-weaponry, total of 54AP invested) -Energy is everything when the main armament of your nation relies on electricity. The Board leans heavily on the engineering subsidiaries to deliver a new form of reactor, capable of handling Hephaestus energy needs. Thus, the Hemera Reactor Project is announced. (-20AP towards the Hemera Reactor Project) -Payment is sent to the Zyrka for services rendered, with the remainder being paid for by the Kingdom of Armathwaite and the Trade Federation. (-15AP) -Young Johnny Penrith, now a talented psionic after his years in the totally respectable and perfectly adequate Grand Alliance psionic academy, enters Laboratory Complex A to see the remnants of the Corruptors. He observes sample of their gizzards, and the powerful mutative cells that caused so much pain for countless nations. Gathering together all the research on the corruptors performed by Corporate scientists, he hops on the small freighter Grgl Gondola and heads towards the Ka’cezh Star Empire. His interest is to heal the last remaining infected patients as a test of his abilities, and as a personal “cheers, mate” from Hephaestus Enterprises for ending the Corruptor threat. (-0AP, John heads north) -A new colony is established far away from the settled Hephaestus rectangle. This time settling on a planet with a super secret resource! (Don't tell anybody, though!) The corporation also claims three sectors bordering their property.(-0AP)

A Brighter* Future for your Children! Apply Today! *Hephaestus Enterprises does not guarantee equal levels of light throughout Corporate space. For further information, please contact your local HERMES representative or call 092 HEPHKNOW for a FREE information booklet! A cripped Corporate heavy cruiser, "HECF Bogan," being fired upon by an Ar'gakari warship, circa 2151 “The Battle of the Five Crabs” was the name the news and entertainment subsidiaries called the crippling loss over Crabsfear. Some of the less reputable outlets called it “Cantankerous and Crabby Crab-Fight” or “Amanda’s Crabs” depending on the audience they were aiming for. Morale in Hephaestus space was particularly low. With the Grgl destroying the remaining Ar’Gakari fleets nearby, the employees at least felt safer. With business slowing to a crawl and pirates prodding at the trade lanes, it was getting harder for the employees to distract themselves from the horrors beyond their worlds. News showing the Redon's unflinching advance, the Keerim and Lithruan war, the terrifying and mysterious Kalronian genocide, and the first-hand experience with the Ar’gakari was unavoidable at this point. A somewhat uncomfortable (for them, at least) camaraderie had evolved between the employees. Sympathy for the families of the fallen was on everyone’s thoughts throughout the rest of the year, and that mindset didn’t mesh well with the predicted market drops in the future. As you might imagine, the mood was rather dour. The remnants of the Hephaestus fleet now orbited Aurora with repairs to their shattered hulls moving forward at a breakneck pace. High Commander Phelps gave her troops shore-leave on Aphrodite. It was noted by her subordinates that although she continued to command as before, she didn’t seem able to look any of them in the eye. With the Ar’gakari gone for now, the Board did not appear interested in constructing new warships. Many in the fleet took this as a slight on their “honour” (or whatever it was Corporate troops had) and a lack of confidence in their abilities. Drunken brawls between soldiers became commonplace on the resort world as a result. Extra Enforcers were called in to the pleasure-planet in order to deal with the violence and citations were thrown around liberally to keep the miserable navy in line. Despite the ample opportunity to devalue and blame one-another for the tragedy, the Board remained unified and focused on the next steps for the Corporation. There were, however, a few quiet voices that questioned the tactics and qualifications of their High Commander. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night sky of Aurora was lit up with colour from the warships anchored around the orbital shipyard. Steven could remember them at Hades a mere year prior. It looked so impressive, then—its Hephaestus-blue markings and the proud Hephaestus logo strutting about Corporate space. Thinking back, a withered businessman felt disgusted at himself for pressing it to engage the vastly superior Ar’gakari fleet. It didn’t matter what tactics they used against them in the end. The fleet was just so... ... irrelevant. They were totally irrelevant compared to the technology and experience of the invaders. He’d never allow his fleet to engage them again unless the numbers on the Hephaestus side were overwhelmingly in his favour. There was simply no other way to do it. Steven reached over to a glass of whiskey on a small table next to his armchair. Beneath it was a full report by his analyst toadies, and a written account by High Commander Phelps. He managed to push his way to the casualty report and caved on reading the rest. He’d have time to feel sick tomorrow, after all. “Grampa?” A small voice squeaked next to his knee and little Sinchil looked up to him with her big green eyes. “I drew.” She held up a scrawled picture of two colourful stick-figures holding hands. Steven smiled warmly at the four year-old. “It’s a beaut, Sunshine.” Wheezed Steven, and ruffled her hair. “This you and daddy, hey?” “Nah. Dad doesn’t play with me much. This is mum.” Steven’s jaw clenched as he raised his glass to his lips. He hummed in thought for a moment before tickling her under the arm. Sinchil answered with squirming and giggles. “You want to see some Hephaestus stars, Sunny?” With a wheeze, Steve lifted her on to his knee, and pointed up to the warships in the sky. “We made all of those, some of them back home on Hades, and a bunch of them here at Aurora. See that one, there?” He prodded a shaking finger towards a collection of flashing lights near the silhouette of the Auroran shipyard. “That one’s called Downsizer. Want to know the other names?” “Where are the others, Grampa?” Sinchil furrowed her brow as she searched the sky. “There were lots more at home.” Steven closed his eyes and sighed. “Would you like to hear a story?” He croaked. Sinchil nodded, though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes with the sudden change of subject. “Once upon a time there was an... elephant.” “What’s an elephant grampa?” “Lord have mercy...” Steven groaned and his head drooped. “You know what a sheep is, Sunshine?” “Mmhm. Saw one at the animal dome. It was white, and very fluffy.” She noted the description of the sheep with audible confidence. This was indeed an animal she knew well. “Right, right. Okay, so, once upon there was this sheep, yeah? The sheep sort of kept to herself, talked with other sheep, - “Baah baah” - all that kind of sheepy rubbish about grass and wool, I guess. Anyway... ...so the sheep had it pretty good. She didn’t get angry about stuff other sheep did, and watered her own patch of grass until it was one of the nicest in the paddock. Suddenly,” Steve rubbed his forehead, thinking as quickly as he could. “some of the other sheep started fighting over the paddock’s grass. Two big flocks would run at each-other and bite their enemy’s legs-” “Why would they do that? Grass is everywhere in a paddock.” “Yep. Yes it is, but-“ "Sheep don’t bite, also. That’s not what sheep do. I drew one and it wouldn’t do that.” “These sheep do. So-“ “Those are mean sheep.” “They sure are, Sunny! Glad we settled that.” Steven cleared his throat, and continued on. “So the sheep bared its teeth like the rest, kept an eye on its patch of grass, but didn’t join in the fighting. Since all the other sheep liked her, they didn’t bite her and chase her off her little piece of the paddock.” “Good sheepie.” Sinchil added. “She sure was. Sadly, some twit with a big stick came up behind her and whacked her on the bum with it.” “No! Why?!” “Because sometimes in life, Sunshine, a twit with a stick will blindside you. It happens. Can’t be helped. All a sheep can do is dust themselves off, keep an eye on their bum, and get back to work.” Sinchil nodded thoughtfully, and looked back up to the sky. “What happened to the sheep, Grampa?” “She kept watering her grass, talking with other sheep, grew eyes on the back of her head, and told stupid allegorical stories to her lambs.” The twinkling stars over Aurora ambled across the sky in their eternal dance. The Corporation slowly churned itself back to a traumatised normalcy, and Steven Penrith loudly farted in his luxury penthouse. Sinchil laughed. Action Points 4AP by default, 10AP from trade (-10AP due to trade blocks) 8AP from population, 11AP from sectors, 4AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, Total = 49AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -Johnny returns once more to Grand Alliance space to continue his psionic education. Though the wars have interrupted his education multiple times, he is determined to complete his training. (-1AP, fourth year of training) -A new quantum anchor is constructed in the Hades sector. The limitations created by distance made it a necessity for future defence operations. The Corporation is determined to learn from its mistakes. (-1AP) -Colonisation operations continue as normal. After the tragedy, even more employees want to start again on a different world, and tickets sell out within the first few hours. (-3AP towards a colonial freighter) -Project: Peach (-5AP) -The laser-lances had performed dismally during their first run. Though the engineers responsible blamed impossible deadlines and technological inferiority for their effectiveness, the Board chooses to ignore them. Instead, they throw more resources at the project to make it better. Frankly, they had invested too much money in it now to try something else anyway. (-10AP towards the laser-lances, total of 110AP invested) -Another MOVING MEGA-MART is commissioned by the board, along with a supply ship. (-9AP towards one large freighter and one regular freighter) -The Auroran shipyard is scheduled for a significant upgrade. During such unstable times, the Corporation begins seeing the necessity for further domestic military production. (-20AP to upgrade Aurora shipyard to tier 5) -The last stockpile of itoron (600 tonnes) is auctioned off to the highest bidder, due to changing economic conditions in the southern galaxy. (-0AP) -A message is sent to the Confederation of Xaplonius detailing the Corporation's deepest sympathies for the brave Grgl souls who gave their lives to defend innocent Hephaestus employees from the horrible Ar'gakari threat. Though the Corporation can think of nothing of equal value to the terrible loss, they enclose their deepest thanks, and the schematics for the quantum anchors used by the Corporation. The Board, and by proxy the employees of Hephaestus Enterprises, hope that the gift offered will aid in the future defence of their nation, and that despite the failure of the joint fleet they will still consider Hephaestus Enterprises for business in the future. (-0AP, Quantum Anchor/drives schematics sent to Confederation of Xaplonius) -An expedition accompanied by an armed escort scouts the recent battlefield in Hephaestus space, seeking out survivors, remains of survivors, and any salvageable materials. (-0AP)

//Text_Missing//--Please contact administrator Written RP awaiting the end of the coming battle. 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (-4AP due to trade blockages), 7AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 4AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, 90AP from itoron sales (One turn only), Total = 141AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. The panic caused by the arrival of the Ar'gakari took hold first and foremost within the Boardroom. The board-members looked through their options: Surrender wasn't viable, as the Ar'gakari had a history of enslaving weaker civilisations, negotiation was impossible, as the Ar'gakari ignored all transmissions, Running wasn't possible, as the corporation didn't have the infrastructure to build enough colony ships to hold all its employees. With only one option left, the Board fearfully informed High Commander Phelps that she would be defending Corporate property against the invaders. -CEO Steven Penrith calls in the heads of all his R&D subsidiaries (including the GAIT, and undisclosed Laboratories A and B) to inform them that they would all now be working on a new super-heavy armament for the Corporate capital ships. Many remarked that designing a new weapon of that calibre in that short amount of time was simply impossible, even with the help of their friends in Armathwaite. Steven asked them - with all the politeness and patience of a constipated moose - what they did know how to make. The engineers agreed among themselves that they were all well-versed in laser technology, having developed them almost continuously over forty years. "Then," Steven remarked, "make me the biggest, baddest, ****-off, **** of a laser you can." With a blank check tossed haphazardly towards them, work began in earnest. (-100AP towards cap-ship mounted laser-lances) -Other smaller subsections of the engineers work on improvements for the regular laser cannons. May as well keep them up to spec, right...? (-15AP towards laser-cannons, total of 65AP invested) -Another subsection works on improvements to the swarmer missles. (-15AP towards swarmer missiles, total of 65AP invested) -The shipyards around Aurora and Hades pump out a number of corvettes to join the main fleet. There isn't even enough time to name them! (-11AP towards the construction 11 corvettes) -John Penrith and his young family are sent out of Hephaestus territory to finally continue his psionic education in Grand Alliance space. Good timing, wouldn't you agree? (-1AP) -A new planet is colonised! A lot of employees seem to want to leave the capital for some reason... (-0AP towards colonisation)

"There's a Grgl in my Office?!" The NEW hit sitcom from Channel 555! “Class” was rarely the first word someone would associate with Hephaestus Enterprises. Despite its wealth and success, Hephaestus remained committed to serving primarily regular people. They were always the biggest market, after all. Who didn’t love an affordable product anyway? This disconnect from class is what made Steven Penrith’s office so strange in comparison to the rest of Hephaestus. The entirety of it was pure, unadulterated luxury. A polished, hardwood floor stretched from door to window was punctuated by neatly placed flowery rugs. Glass cases held artefacts of obscene worth, from Firstborn servitors to suits of medieval armour. A classic, red-brick fireplace crackled with dancing flames (though where the smoke went was anyone’s guess). At the far end of the room was a heavy, mahogany desk that was framed exquisitely by an expansive window. A mere twenty years ago, all a person could see from that window was the blasted, rocky landscape of Hades. Now it was covered by habi-domes, factories, movie theatres, casinos, and any other service or industry that could turn a credit. The morass of business shifted like sand daily—no skyline was the same as the night before. The serenity of the space was cut short, as the doors of a gilded elevator eased open, and two figures sauntered in. The first individual was CEO Steven Penrith, who had the gormless smile and glazed eyes of a man who was politely listening to a very boring person. The other was Wilfred Cooper, of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries. Wilfred had invited himself up to Steven’s office, and Steven has humouring him—Cooper & Sons had recently absorbed and overtaken an Auroran automaton manufacturer, and had earned itself a place on the Hephaestus executive board as a result. Like all new arrivals to the Board, he had begun networking immediately. “The way I see it Mr Penrith, the Corporation could use some heavier vehicles for its security forces! With wars being fought among every one of our trading partners, a few more diverse assets in our arsenal wouldn’t hurt, right?” Wilfred Cooper took a moment to wipe the sweat from his balding head. The nervous, wiry man always seemed to drip with it whenever he was excited. He also did it on every other occasion. “I-it just so h-happens that I have one! In the experimental stages, of course, but we have the designs! With only a little investment-“ Steven cut Wilfred off with a well-practiced jovial laugh. “Bring it to the Board then, Wilfred my old mate! We’ll have a chin-wag about the whole thing, yeah? We’ll talk later over lunch some time. Give you a ring in a week or two, maybe? Yeah great! See you then, pal!” “B-but Mr Penrith you don’t know my nu-“ ”I’ll see you later, Cooper!” Steven waved Cooper away, and the stuttering industrialist awkwardly walked back into the elevator with a morose expression. Finally easing into his armchair, Steven sighed heavily. For nearly ten years he’d felt younger than ever, but now his body was starting to remember how old it was. It wasn’t 2108 anymore, that was for sure. He reached towards a drawer to retrieve a cigar, and was surprised to feel a large, warm, round shape in the place an empty space ought to be. This struck him as highly unusual—that space was only ever occupied by his secretary/wife Sally, but she was on Aphrodite taking in the sun. And he couldn’t recall having any other mistresses. Steven, after all, was a virtuous man. After a brief moment of thought, Steven looked down to the unusual object. It was a Grgl. It appeared to be wearing a tiny, Hephaestus-blue business suit that had been adapted to its physiology. It was silently standing with a data-pad covering its small face, and remaining perfectly still. Steven would have assumed it was a statue, if it didn’t occasionally shiver. Taking a moment to survey his office, he expected to see an employee nearby to explain why the Grgl was there. Aside from himself, the room was deserted. The situation was very perplexing. Steven leaned down until his face was at the grgl’s height, and grunted. “Oi.” The Grgl’s mandibles scrabbled briefly on the data-pad, and it let out a number of frightened chrips while it shivered. Steven pushed onward. “What are you doing, mate?” “I am attempting to mask my presence,” boomed a synthesised baritone. “I did not have enough time to hide.” “Why are you hiding?” said Steven. “I am feeling intimidated. You are intimidating. I am feeling very nervous.” The translator had a strange cadence, and structured sentences in an odd, fragmented manner. The Grgl beneath chirped nervously, as it peeked out from behind its pad. “Good. I’m pretty bloody intimidating, if I do say so myself.” Steven leaned back in his chair. “Why the hell are you in my office?” “I am currently your lead accountant.” The voice boomed, though it hardly matched the nervous, shuddering Grgl. “My name is Jimothy Sonjohn. I am here to discuss matters involving the dispensation of Corporate assets.” Steven blinked in surprise. “Where’s Jim?” “I am Jim. Jimothy Sonjohn.” Replied the Grgl. “No no, Jim Bean, mate.” “Mr Bean felt that he was overwhelmed by the current duties given to him. He has placed the accountancy department in my capable claws.” Jimothy seemed to perk up, with his chirps sounding cheery and light beneath his translator. “Oh.” Steven stated flatly. “Alright, I s’pose. So ah, what do you need to talk to me about?” Jimothy quickly skittered to the chair in front of the CEO’s vast desk, and tapped his mandibles across the surface of his data-pad. “Item one on my list—Executive Woollard asks what he can do with the excess of itoron currently stockpiled on Woolongong, Grand Ares, and Bill.” “Sell it,” stated Steven flatly, as he finally retrieves a cigar. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An ad appears around the southern galaxy. It appears to be a typical Hephaestus advertisement, but instead of a peppy young salesman, a fat, ugly, and watery-eyed man stands in front of a massive pile of rocks. You can see him visibly breathe in as a cheerful tune begins to jingle in the background. “G’day! I’m Jason Woollard! And I have a problem!" He gestures behind himself (with significant effort) and the camera zooms out suddenly to reveal an enormous pile of rocks. “I’ve got so much itoron, BUT I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!! Corporate heads have officially declared itoron (along with D3-Standard Microwave-Ovens and the Purgemaster Electric Toothbrush) to be a non-vital strategic resource, and I have TWENTY-FOUR-HUNDRED TONNES OF ITORON THAT ABSOLUTELY NEED TO GO!! Prices aren’t just slashed, they’re QUANTUM-CALCULATEDLY SCORCHED IN TWAIN WITH A XYLORITE-POWERED SHELF-CLEAVER HEAVY LASER-DRILL!!! A small plaque with the word “PRICES?!?!?!” is appropriately sliced in half with a laser, with obnoxious explosion decals surrounding it. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! HELL IF I KNOW, BUT IT’S SO DAMN CHEAP WHO CARES WHAT I SAY?!! A number of laughing, scantily-clad babes of varying species and sexes immediately start clambering onto the massive pile and rub themselves sensually with the minerals. YOU WANT RAW ITORON?! COME AND GET IT, YOU BLOODY RIPPER! YOU WANT IT SMELTED?! AW MATE, WE HAVE SO MUCH OF THAT YOU COULD FEED A STARVING PLANET ON IT FOR A YEAR!! ARE THESE ROCK-HORNY BABES BEHIND ME EVEN ATTRACTIVE?! I HAVE NO IDEA, BECAUSE I’VE BEEN STRUCK BLIND BY THE DAZZLING ARRAY OF DEALS AVAILABLE!! Jason immediately begins packing his coat full of Itoron bars and rocks, covering himself in dust, but earning exaggerated, sultry looks from the babes behind him. THERE'S SIMPLY NO TIME!! YOU NEED TO BUY BUY BUY!!!!! BEFORE STOCK RUNS OUT!!! SO GET YOURSELF DOWN TO CRAZY JAY’S DISCOUNT MINERAL EXCAVATION WAREHOUSE SALES BONANZA!! Each word is accompanied by the sound of an explosion SEE YOU THERE, MATE! “ The face of Jason Woollard leaves your vision, but your desperate urge to purchase cut-price heavy-metals increases by the second... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, 50AP from Redon Imperium (One turn only), 6AP from Solar Ascendancy (One turn only). 3AP holdover from previous turn. Total = 113AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -The Sink Project. (-50AP, total of 60AP invested) -Further resources are piled into improving Corporate swarmer missiles. As an accompaniment to their eponymous laser-cannons, they needed to be as effective or better than their local competitors. (-10AP towards swarmer missiles, total of 50AP invested) -With the loss of the Thulean shipyard, the Corporation recognised the need to return to “old friends” for cost-effective warship construction. They would not be left wanting when a battle was upon them. (-24AP sent to Han Dominion for four light cruisers) -The Solar Ascendancy sends resources to Hephaestus in order to construct their Paladin Mechs, with which the Corporation complies (once equitable payment is received). (-5AP) -The exponential growth of industry leaves some corporate analysts wondering—in an emergency situation, just how many combat droids could the factories produce? Resources are allocated in order to judge the industrial output of Hephaestus Enterprises. (-11AP towards the construction of Tithonus II combat droids) -Due to administration failures in the previous year, an order for a colony ship was totally forgotten. In lieu of this, the Hades shipyard immediately begins construction in order to avoid total consumer lethargy. (-3AP for colony ship) -The advertising campaign for itoron plays in every friendly nation of the Southern galaxy. Though the ones featuring Jason Woollard are mercifully few, they all stress that there is 2400 tonnes of itoron up for grabs, and that prices are very negotiable. (-10AP for adverts.) -200 tonnes of itoron are shipped to the Edonians. Why? Uh... (-0AP) -Combat exercises and war-games are held in Corporate space. The fleet is needed in tip-top form in case of any hungry predator looking for an easy target. The Corporation releases a statement to surrounding nations before the exercises expressing that the manoeuvres are not intended as aggression or grand-standing. (-0AP)

//Text_Missing//--Please contact administrator Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 6AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity. 30AP from Redon Imperium as payment for armour (One turn only), 50AP from Redon Imperium as a down-payment for energy cells. (One turn only). Total = 132AP BONUSES: -Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -Though the Redons had attacked a close friend and FEZ member, a contract for energy cells had been agreed to prior to the conflict. The Corporation could not break a contract once it had agreed to one, thus manufactured the 1,000,000 energy cells. The Board would inform the Redons during the delivery of the cells that the Corporation would not be exporting any military equipment to any state for the duration of the conflict. They send their sincere apologies, and hope the Redon Imperium would consider Hephaestus Enterprises for business deals in the future. (-50AP) -Tell me something, Czar. What makes you... tingle? You know what I mean? That is to say, what makes your heart flutter? Your hands shake in excitement? What act makes blood rush to your extremities in sheer ecstasy? Perhaps it would be too racy to write it in this forum. Would a lover whisper it into your ear in the dead of night--speak softly the secrets that haunt your most sensual dreams? Would they whisper... "Industrial Investment?" A manufacturer working for Hephaestus Enterprises would. (-40AP towards Industry) -Four destroyers are constructed in the Aurora shipyard. (-12AP) -Further improvements are made to the Swarmer missiles. (-10AP, total of 40AP invested) -The Sink Project. (-10AP) -Project: Peach (-5AP) -Another colony ship is chartered for construction and launch upon the next year. (-3AP, due to Oligarchy Bonus) -Hephaestus Enterprises officially severs trade links with the United States of Arcturus due to their total lack of contact. They will be re-established once the USA resumes contact with the Human Alliance. The Corporation strongly insists that the USA speak to its ally, the Han Dominion, so trade will no longer be interrupted. (-0AP)

Is Weapon Manufacturing the Next Boom Industry? Read More at HEPH-NET! The bright, tropical sun shone down on the pearl-white sand of Aphrodite’s beaches. The resort planet’s profits had gone down during the last batch of wars, and business had slowed down with yet another looming on the horizon. This was tragic for the hotel chains, but for someone desiring a quiet beach getaway, this was perfectly fine. The soft breeze and rolling waves were only broken by the gurgling of the baby happily grasping the finger of CEO Steven Penrith. Steven doted on the child since he first laid eyes on her, and wheezed out laughter every time little Sinchil smiled. His wife and secretary, Sally, also seemed pleased, though she was up to her third glass of wine since her future daughter-in-law Aleya had arrived. Johnny stared silently out towards the ocean while his father and fiancé talked. “We met during the first semester, my Johnny and I,” chirped Aleya. Her Terraskolarian accent reminded Steve of the French, and he had even mistaken her for a Thulean at first. “When he arrived at the academy, I was volunteering in secretarial work. I believe he made a pass at me, but I’m unsure. His Firstborn was quite eclectic." She giggled at the memory. "Soon enough, he joined the academy himself, and started appearing in the same lessons as I. Such a wonderful coincidence, no?” Steven nodded, though his attention was still plainly on baby. “Well we got to talking and the rest,” she looked to John with a soft smile, “well, the rest you can probably guess.” “Yeah yeah. We can work out the logistics of the situation, sweetheart.” Another round of wheezing laughter struggled its way out of Steven’s mouth. “I never thought I’d live to see grand-kids.” “I was so surprised to learn that John was not Terraskolarian. Our species are oddly similar in appearance, aren’t they?” Aleya smiled warmly as she joined Steve by the cradle. “I always wanted to be a mother. I am not a talented psionic, but I joined the academy anyway since my family insisted. But John, he is so talented. He dazzled everyone with his abilities...” “Yeah, I’ll be sending him back to that academy after the wedding. He needs to finish that education of his, don’t you Johnny?” Steven’s gaze broke from Sinchil, and wafted to John. His eyes had a dangerous gleam. “He’s a very responsible young man, and he’ll be working very, very hard so he can come back to his new family. Won’t you, Johnny?” “He’s going back?” Aleya looked between Steven and John with a forlorn expression. “I had hoped he would spend more time w-“ “No no no, lovey! We never waste an investment. But don’t worry—we’ll make sure you and the little one here will be very comfortable. Hades is a little ah, grittier than Aphrodite, but you’ll be in the lap of luxury. Besides, we can’t really afford to hold a properly lavish wedding or pay for his next round of education until next year. Bloody war.” Aleya immediately perked up. “So it means John will be here until next year?” “That’s right, sweetie! And I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to spend every moment he can with you. Because my John is a responsible, gracious fiancé. Aren’t you, Johnny, mate?" Johnny Penrith said nothing. His mother poured herself another glass of wine. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The monolithic HCAC tower loomed over the chaotic sprawl of factories, warehouses and businesses that littered the surface of Hades. Far above the wafting smog and milling throngs of traders, industrialists, and entrepreneurs, a man with the most difficult job in the Corporation was preparing himself for a drunken bender. Jim Bean, lead negotiator, lead accountant, and administrator for the HERMES program poured himself a glass of synthetic brandy. He wouldn’t usually indulge in drinking during office hours, but frankly he was at the end of his tether. His bloodshot eyes and the bags beneath them spoke volumes of his workload. The scattered papers and data-pads around his previously pristine office seemed to reflect the frustration and stress his job brought. He just had to hold off from drunkenness for just a little longer—he just needed to smile his way through the interview and then inebriated oblivion awaited. A gentle tap on his door announced the arrival of his guest. Jim quickly flattened his hair, forced out his smile and cleared his throat. “Come on in, mate.” After a few moments of fiddling with the door-handle, a small, orb-like creature skittered into the room. Its small, grasping mandibles were a little short to reach most human-sized doors, and it waited awkwardly in the doorway. Jim immediately stood up, and cheerily gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. “Sit on down Mr Gnrry- ah, Gnrruyg-“ “Do not worry, Mr Bean.” Boomed a deep, synthesised voice from the Grgl. Jim could hear faint chirps and gurgles beneath the voice’s unnatural sound--clearly the Grgl was using an advanced translator. It was possibly one of the new models that could translate inflections and tone, judging from how the voice sounded somewhat sympathetic. He could have sworn he heard a similar voice in an old sci-fi movie he saw a while back. “I understand that the Xaplonius standard speech is terribly difficult for your species. I have already chosen a new name that reflects the culture of Hephaestus Enterprises, and my desire to integrate myself further into the Corporation. You may call me Jimothy Sonjohn.” “Right, so ah, Jimothy.” Jim took a moment to gather up some of the papers on his desk, if nothing else than appear to be in control of his surroundings. “I’ve been looking over your accomplishments during the last few years. McPhaestus was a dying franchise, and you turned it completely around. You’re the owner of almost half the family restaurants in corporate space, am I right?” Jimothy bounced in his seat with a flurry of excited chirps clearly audible over the translation. “I am very proud of my efforts. Furthermore, I am deeply pleased that you have noticed.” “Hard not to, Jimmy my friend. Look, here’s the rub of the situation.” Jim Bean could feel the muscles in his cheeks begin to wobble. After nearly 36 hours of ceaseless smiling, they were starting to get tired. He needed to end this chat quickly. “Another war is gearing up, we have a whole heap of money going to different places, and I’m running three departments. I’d like to offer you the position of lead accountant.” The tiny grgl’s black eyes blinked at him for a moment. It’s mandibles covered its chirping mouth in what was possibly shock. “I am surprised. I am also bewildered. I am also frightened. I am also happy. I am experiencing oscillating emotions,” the translator boomed. “Ha! That’s fantastic, Jimmy-my-man!” Jim Bean tossed a data-pad towards the Grgl, who caught it clumsily. “Right. There are all the figures. You start tomorrow!” “Tomorrow?” The grgl exclaimed with a tinge of confusion. “This amount of time is simply too short to accustom myself to my new duties and-” “Yeah it’s great, huh? Straight to the grindstone! Nose right up in the arse of Corporate issues! You’re one hell of a team-player, Sonjohn!” Jim Bean quickly began to bustle the confused Grgl out of his office. “Give me a call in a week and tell me how it’s going, baby! We’ll do lunch! Really hash out the knitty gritty! Ciao ciao!” He closed the door before the grgl could utter another word. As the confused Jimothy quickly pitter-pattered his way off to his own office, the former lead account proceeded to get extraordinarily drunk. It appeared he’d be having a long weekend. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 6AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity. 30AP from Redon Imperium (One turn only) Total = 82AP BONUSES: -Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -What's better than a large manufacturing order from a massive and wealthy empire? Nothing. There was nothing better for Hephaestus. The Redons wanted 200,000 combat suits? They would get 200,000 combat suits by the end of the year, and then some!. The fumes from the factories begin to churn as resources are poured in to the billowing maw of Corporate industry. (-30AP) -All things must come to an end, much like good deals with good friends. Two hulking dreadnoughts are commissioned from the Han shipyards. (-24AP) -Tired of listening to the Thuleans incessant cries, The Board invests a modest sum of resources to their shipyard. If nothing more than to keep their solicitors at bay for another year. (-10AP) -War is a scary thing, and thus more money would be invested into the zappy-zaps that keep the bad things away. (-6AP towards Laser Cannons. Total of 50AP invested) -The discrete services of Kyber Core were much appreciated. The corporation pays them their dues, and makes a note to send a Christmas card to them at the end of the year. (-4AP to Kyber Core) -The maiden voyage of the MOVING MEGA-MARTS (TM) Affordable, and the newly modified Trucker Bill are planned. A trip to the Confederation of Xalponius is chartered to gauge the interest from xeno nations. A modest advertising campaign is played on Grgl media outlets advertising products, prices, and a list of planets they would be visiting. Tickets to enter the MEGA-MARTS would be 75% off to celebrate the first official outing... (-3AP towards business) -On the subject of advertising, another campaign is set up by the visiting HERMES agents on New Siam. Hephaestus was looking for employees! Meet interesting people, see exotic aliens, see the even more exotic escort agencies! There was something for everyone at Hephaestus! Leaflets are distributed to the Siamese, boasting the job opportunities currently available in Corporate space. (-2AP towards business) -Begrudgingly, the Board orders the limited manufacturing of Ares III laser rifles. They would be delivered (For FREE, no less. Outrageous...) to the Edonians upon completion. (-1AP) -A pittance is sent to the Han Dominion, in order to make up the extra cost accrued by the construction of two dreadnoughts. (-1AP) -The Sink Project. (-1AP) (Mod plesh) -The Corporate fleet conducts manoeuvres and drills to keep them sharp. Being a big, blobby fleet, it expects to see some action soon. (-0AP)

What YOU can make, we make 5-times Faster (And cheaper!)!! //Connecting_to: Heph-Net—Inter-Corporate Newsletter//... //Loading_Scripts//... //Loading_UI//... //Loading_DEALS!//... //WELCOME_USER: -- JimBOOMBABY//... //HEPH-NET: Inter-Corporate Newsletter\\ //--The Latest in Corporate News, and Employment Opportunities!--\\ Please Begin your OAP (Obligatory Advertisement Perusal) time, mandated by HEPH-NET user Contract sub-clause 88B1. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Hi, JimBOOMBABY! You are subscribed to adverts under tagged subjects: GUNS , SHOPPING , COFFEE , BLAGL_RESTERAUNT , BABES , ANTIQUING Tagged Subject: GUNS

Sign up for our Intern Program! Meet Exotic Sentients!! Several years ago, Hephaestus Enterprises purchased a system previously colonised by the PAR. It was a terribly silly place to colonise, really. Likely it had been a ploy to appeal to the Aurorans during the bidding over their colony. “See? We neighbour you too!” Excessive wastefulness was a hallmark of non-corporates. Though, being excessively wasteful was a hell of a lot of fun. “So the Krauts do the swap and leave, yeah? And my HERMES admin gal, Miranda I think her name was, figures that a good way to make the place feel ‘new and fresh’ would be to rename the planet. Guess what these grease-necked miners voted to name it?” Jim Bean, lead accountant and head of HERMES, sat in the chair opposite from Steven. His practised, toothy smile seemed to take up half of his rosy face. HERMES agents were known to smile for an unnaturally long duration, but no-one knew how they managed it. It was rumoured they had synthetic tendons planted in their cheeks, but Steve never saw any scars. “Bill! They named the planet Bill! I tell you, boss--that Aurora union really buggered our branding. Everyone wants to name their dumb planets after their dogs, or something. What next, a planet named after a cheese?” Steven looked down on the little mining colony below him. His air-car swooped over the pock-marked landscape where workers pushed their laser-drills into the itoron-rich earth. In the distance, freighters were carting off the ore to Grand Ares to be processed. The colony was still too small to bother doing it here. “Isn’t Jason supposed to be here?” Steven remarked, poorly masking the outright hostility in his voice. Jim was quick to notice this, and toned down his cheery attitude. “Mr Woolard is currently on Woolongong, sir. He’s preparing the payment to the Han-“ “Preparing the fuckin’ payment to the Han, hey?” Steven spat, his wrinkled face scrunched into a unpleasant scowl. “Buying up damn slaves-“ “Which you agreed to, sir.” “Which I was pushed into agreeing with, Jimbo. You may have convinced those dimwits on the Board, but you haven’t convinced me. This is a PR nightmare. Hephaestus Enterprises purchasing slaves?!” Steven rubbed his temples in exasperation. “My dad would be hounding you out of his office with a bullwhip.” Jim kept his gaze low and endured his employer’s fiery temper. “You listen here, Jimmy my old mate.” Steven glared at his accountant with silent fury. “If this hurts this Corporation’s PR, I swear to the Old Man, Christ and God himself that I will kick you so far down the ladder you’ll be sweeping streets on Aurora just to make ends meet. You understand? You live or die on this deal, Jim.” The rest of the flight was pretty awkward. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: -4AP by default, -16AP from trade (8AP x 2 due to federation), -5AP from population, -9AP from sectors, -3AP from business, -4AP from industry. Total = 41AP -[Redacted] (-4AP, total of 6AP invested) -Chiron Armaments, the manufacturer of the Ares series of laser weapons, feel that the brand is starting to lose its lustre. Despite several years of profitable ventures in the warship market, a fresh new rifle design is offered up. The Ares III: Not only will it have upgrades to power-efficiency and damage output, it would also include dual-firing modes. The simplicity of laser-weapons would theoretically make swapping crystal arrays equally simple. So why not have a laser-rifle that could be switched to a scatter-laser at the press of a button? (-6AP, total of 19AP invested in laser-weapons) -Yet more resources and technicians are sent to the Han Dominion for the construction of a battleship, and another heavy cruiser. (14AP) -Further improvements are scheduled for the Hephaestus laser-lances. There will never be an end to the improvement. They will be improved until there is nothing left to improve upon. (-10AP, total of 44AP invested) -The swarmer missiles are similarly improved alongside the lances. They are equally important for the corporate fleet, after all. (-5AP, total of 20AP invested) -Johnny is a very good young lad, and has high hopes for his psychic education. Though he succeeds in his studies, he feels unsatisfied with his seduction skills. He vows to double his efforts in macking on fly honeys. Money is sent to pay for his education, regardless of his peculiar tastes in extracurricular activities. (-1AP) -A new colony is founded on the planet "Parmesan." (-0AP) -Having established their section of GTC-East last year, the Corporation begins preliminary scans of former Corruptor territory around the outpost (within a 5 x 5 square) for salvage or other things of interest. (-0AP)

Our Posts are Cost-efficient AND Fantastic Value!! As the last Ka’cezh warships finally departed Hephaestus space, the marketeers collectively sighed and gave their fondest farewells. “Come back any time!” –the phrase uttered the most by the businessmen, had a melancholy tone to it despite their best efforts to keep it cheerful. The capital obtained from the Ka’cezh was the stuff of legends, now. They were stories to regale young children with, along with the awe-inspiring fleets of warships that buried themselves in the blood and gore of the corruptor menace. The spiders were dead, but so were the profits. It was a sad end to a miserable war. And yet, despite the loss of money, despite the billions of lives spent, despite the hardships, the fear, and anxiety, they were finally safe. Every employee could sleep at night knowing that the monsters were slain. No matter who reigned in the galaxy, at least they weren’t mutating spider-men. In the words of the New Sephorites and the Maltese, ‘God be praised.’ Hephaestus ordered all synth-alcohol products to be marked down 50%, and proclaimed a yearly Corporate-wide celebration for the newly-named “Extinction Day;” the first (and probably only) sanctioned inter-corporate holiday. Streets filled with jubilant employees as spontaneous parties erupted in every city and Habi-dome. It was as if a horrible, heavy weight had been lifted off their shoulders. A new, pure galaxy awaited their children, and investment. But even in times of loss, there is profit to be made. The newest GTC outpost offered a number of less scrupulous individuals a unique opportunity. Tales from the Ka'cezh troopers revealed stories of dead civilisations buried in the masses of corruptor-corpses. A dead civilisation's trinkets would be worth a significant amount of money, and that was assuming there wouldn't be other things worth digging out of the dust and ash. Young Johnny begins his tertiary education. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (8 x 2 from prosperity bonus), 5AP from population, 9AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 4AP from industry, 7AP from USA (Single payment) Total = 48AP -The Corporation once more rings the doorbell of the Grand Aurora Institute of Technology. The laser-lances utilised by the Hephaestus warships require further improvement. Until the weapons were on par with the rest of the galaxy the corporation would never be satisfied. (-9AP, total of 34AP invested) -While they were there, they also requested improvements on their swarmer-missiles. (-5AP, total of 15AP invested) -Further resources are sent to the Han Dominion for the construction of one battleship and one heavy cruiser for the Corporate fleet. (-14AP) -Resources, technicians, and guards are sent off with the Trade Federation colonisation vessels in order to construct a salvage/trade operation at the new GTC outpost. The dead civilisations would no doubt hold plunder worth taking, even after the Ka’cezh were finished looking over it. (-10AP towards GTC-East trade station) -A new order from the United States of Arcturus; shiploads of resources are set to corporate warehouses in order to construct a number of Tithonus Mk. II combat droids. They would be delivered to US space upon completion. (-6AP) -A colony ship is ordered to be constructed. (-3AP) -Johnny goes to college, baby! Now, some people get scholarships to go to Harvard, but some of us have to grind through community-college in order to apply. Johnny may be an uncouth businessman, but he isn't stupid. He'd work his hardest and reward himself by hitting on the attractive Da'nor students. (-1AP)

25% of all Proceeds to to Survivors of Tragic Conflicts! The titanic battleship soared across the Hades skyline, attracting the looks of many curious bystanders planet-side. They had not been informed of any warships in the shipyard that year, but the vessel was unmistakably corporate. It's odd blue tint and - frankly - obtuse shape were hallmarks of Hephaestus shipwrights at this point. Those aboard the shipyards and trade-stations around Hades could see that the vessel wasn't yet entirely finished. Large holes dotted strategic portions of the ship which would undoubtedly hold vast arrays of laser-cannons, lances, and missiles. As it docked with the Hades shipyard, dozens of tiny vessels started zipping all around it like irritable flies. Each one carrying weapons to be attached. The largest weapons, nearing one-hundred metres in length, were carried by a duo of small freighters. Looking out a window of her headquarters aboard the frigate Jin Jin, Amanda Phelps rolled back-and-forth on her heels, gleefully gazing at her newest toy. This was exactly what she had been hoping for when she had joined the Corporate naval program. Big, scary battleships with huge, shooty guns! She could barely contain her school-girl giggles as a colossal frontal laser-lance was gently guided into it's respective place. It was starting to look like a real warship, now! The beautiful warship didn't have a name yet, but Amanda had been given the honour of assigning it one (since the Board couldn't be bothered). She was giddy with excitement, and she had the perfect title for it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The industrial district of Hades was constructed in the 2120’s under the premise of supplying more products to neighbouring colonies and alien nations. By 2143, it covered large portions of the planet, save from a surprisingly popular tourist-trap. Hundreds of billowing smoke-stacks poured choking smog into the vacuum of the atmosphere-less Hades. Strange mists produced by the ceaseless manufacturing wafted around the planet’s surface nowadays, creating a dream-like fog among the structures and habi-domes that dotted the planet’s featureless landscape. Deep within these cavernous factories, a father was talking to his son about mental health. “Dad, c’mon! Don’t make me go! I don’t want to go! I have businesses to run! I’m opening another two locations this month and I have to be p-“ John was cut off sharply by his cantankerous father. The CEO was not in the mood to be argued with. “Bloody hell, Johnny! I’m trying to do what’s best for you! Next year I won’t have any ownership rights to force you anywhere, you know! You’re going to see a psionic about these dreams you keep having!” Turning to his son, Steven’s face was marked with equal parts concern and irritation, as any good father’s should be. Today the two of them weren’t surrounded by HERMES agents, Enforcers, or members of the Board. Instead, the pair was skulking around the endless gangways of the industrial district's factories. “Don’t get on my nerves today, my boy. Firstly, that turd of a Firstborn Margek couldn’t be bothered to answer my call. That’s gratitude for you. What a waste of an investment.” Steven gestured dramatically around himself and roared with exasperation. “And now, bloody TERMINATORS are popping out of the ground and throwing together STARSHIPS just outside our property! Can you even imagine just how stressed I am, sonny?” John looked at his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. With his teeth clenched hard, he nodded slowly with a reddening face. Steven paused and stood in place for a moment and rubbed his temples with a vocal sigh. “Look, John. Like I said, I want the best for you. These dreams of yours are going to kill your PR one day -- especially if you have an episode like that last one again. Screaming and shooting your bedroom’s upholstery is not a way to deal with frustrating night-terrors.” John grumbled beneath his breath, and held back a flurry of rude words. Steven continued to gesticulate around himself with considerable gusto. He became quite melodramatic during meetings when he had nothing to shoot at. “I don’t trust that psychological tripe, so you’re going to see a space-wizard. There’ll be fewer paparazzi that way. The wizards will poke around in your head a bit, snip out the offending dream, and that will be that.” Steven gave John one more hard glare. “Understood?” With a grunt and a scowl, John agreed with a silent nod. “Good.” Steven turned around and marched down the gangway, yelling back to John through the steam and industrial noise. “Don’t forget to say goodbye to your mum before you go!” John leaned on the railing and stared down at the factory floor beneath him. The employees hadn’t even noticed he was up here. The rapidly assembled microwaves were being shunted off to their destination almost faster than the employees could put them together them. They clearly had very little time to observe their surroundings. The young man felt almost like one of the microwaves being sent off for quality testing – getting all the dings and flaws smoothed out before being shipped off. His father may just be worrying about the future of the company, but there was a machine-like compulsion from the old man to make sure his son was in perfect shape. It was like he was running on a schedule, or something. John rested his head on the railing, and groaned. Did psionics even work the way his father thought they did? Did his father know anything outside of business? And so John trudged back home to pack his things, and kiss his mum goodbye. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 12AP from trade (x2 from prosperity federation bonus), 4AP from 8th Crusade, 5AP from population, 9AP from sectors, 2AP from business, 3AP from industry. Total = 39AP -Giving a year’s grace-period for the unfortunate events of the Eadni conflict to blow over, the Board orders the biggest PR-boosting advertising campaign ever put into practice. The subject of the advertising is - of course - war. Having their products exported just about everywhere, Hephaestus caters to individual nations in order to pull on the appropriate heart-strings. They wanted to show that Hephaestus was a 'family' business, and that most of all they were beings with feelings too. For the next three years in: -Tassaran space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated to injured veterans in the Corruptor war. -Grgl space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated to injured veterans of the Corruptor war. -Galaron space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated towards rebuilding devastated planets. -Karass space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated towards rebuilding devastated planets. -In Lithruan space, 25% of sales will be donated towards the Lithruan’s war-effort against the Keerim. -In Protorian and Redon space, 25% of profits will be donated to injured veterans. Hephaestus understands that war is a dreadful thing, but sometimes it has to be done. What matters now is picking the pieces up, and putting the galaxy back together as best one can. A process that can now be aided by purchasing Hephaestus products. (-16AP) -When you go to bed, what do you dream about, Pok/Czar? Unicorns? A well-cooked breakfast? A plethora of scantily-clad babes? No doubt you see plenty of fantastical things! Do you know what a Hephaestus miner dreams about? Mining. They love mining so much they may as well be dwarfs. Sometimes they have to get their wives/husbands to dress up like minerals just to get them randy enough for bedroom antics. Holy ****. They NEED that itoron, bro. They need to extract it DEEP from the QUIVERING mineshafts in THICK veins of minerals that dot the many worlds of Hephaestus. More mines are what they need on their itoron worlds. (-10AP) -With the Corruptor war winding up, Hephaestus deems it necessary to invest further into their economic presence. A new upgrade to the trade-station over Hades is ordered. (-10AP) -[Redacted] (-3AP) -Upon hearing about the sudden appearance of sentient robots, the Board makes no official statement. However, the nearest claimed systems to the robots are patrolled more regularly and thoroughly than usual. Clearly, they’re a little nervous about their new neighbour. (-0AP) -An open advertisement is sent out from the Corporation to anywhere in the southern galaxy where psionics congregate. The message reads as thus: “Son of wealthy industrialist seeking reputable psionic institution to help with troublesome dreams. Non-psionics need not apply.” Aside from the relevant contact information, all Hephaestus iconography is absent from the missive. (-0AP)

Sign up for a Loan! We'll beat the Competition by 10%!! Sol-year 2142. The year the Holy Kingdom of Eadn collapsed. High Commander Amanda Phelps stood on her bridge, counting down the minutes before the Corporate fleet appeared in PAR space. This would be her first operation after nearly two years of pedantic drills and exercises. Her crews were prepared, her shields charged, her weapons ready. It was time to prove to the galaxy that Hephaestus was tough enough to ward off aggressors against free-association. This was not what Amanda was worried about--she knew her forces were entering a fixed fight and victory was assured. She was worried about what she was going to say. Amanda was not a good public speaker. She could bark orders like a champ, but speaking in front of crowds gave her the jitters. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back to hide the clammy sheen of sweat that was quickly forming on them. What could she say? When the combined armada arrived, Amanda had been given orders to tell all ships other than the Eadni vessels to leave. Those that ran would not be attacked. She'd been told to say "something along those lines. You'll figure it out." She wished she'd been given a script. She was terrible at writing things. That's why she joined the Enforcers in the first place, damn it! Should it be a speech, or just a singular statement? God, if only she had more time to prepare! How could she, though, with the frantic orders she had been assigned? The USA fleet was already on its way, and if they were going to enact the ambush the timing had to be precise. "Ten seconds, Commander!" a technician called from his console. "All hands, prepare for real-space arrival. Repeat--all hands, prepare for real-space arrival." The automated call sent several troopers rushing down the hallways to their assigned places. Last calls for energy-cells and weapon calibrations could be heard throughout the ship. "Five seconds!" She needed something! Anything! The sweat was starting to pool around her collar. She couldn't even speak to acknowledge her navigator's reports. The ship shuddered, and with what felt like her stomach briefly free-falling, they re-entered real-space at the edge of the Utopie system. Reports started coming in immediately. Damage reports for the amassed THC ships was devastating. Images of burning capital-ships filled up holographic displays in front of her. Broken formations and heavy comms traffic clearly indicated the opposing warships were in no state for a fight. Still, their fleet was quite formidable. At least, it used to be. Whatever inspired the Thuleans to perform such a betrayal, it must have been worth it. "Opening a channel now, Commander," the communications officer said. "They can all hear you." Time seemed to stop. Amanda had nothing - absolutely nothing - to say. It was like all her worst nightmares from school coming back at once. Like that sneering ***** Clarissa teasing as little Amanda stumbled through a page of The Fountainhead. The whole class started to laugh. It took the teacher a full minute to keep them from giggling, but by then her confidence was completely gone. The time had come. Either she spoke now, or the embarrassment would grow. Some of her techies were staring at her now, expectantly. She lightly pressed the button on her personal console and spoke in monotonous, calm tone despite herself. "All those other than the Eadni who leave now will face no repercussions. Those that stay will face..." Her mind went completely blank. She needed to finish the statement but she had trapped herself into a grammatical hole. 'Those that stay will face'?? Why did she start a sentence like that?! It could have been so much easier! She needed a word. Think! Think!!! "...downsizing." She rasped. Due to her nerves, her teeth had been clenched, giving a deep, growling inflection to the word. Her crew nodded and smiled approvingly. She sat down in her chair, and flicked the button off. The Hephaestus fleet moved forward with the USA's, and won an easy victory. Though, the fight was always the simple part. Amanda would have preferred to fight a battle against a fully active fleet than speak to so many at once ever again. She called up the quartermaster, and requested a sandwich to celebrate the victory. He reminded her that he didn't make food. What a nuisance, Amanda was. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Upon the condemnation of the human colonies, Hephaestus makes no comment. No doubt business would be effected by the harsh rhetoric, but the Corporation plodded on as they always did. Without the THC looming in the near-distance, the Board at least felt safer. The Eadni fleet bombarding the PAR's capital out of spite was all the employees needed to remain free of guilt, though some quietly regretted the loss of life the Eadni suffered. Several federations crawled out of the former THC, like maggots from a corpse. With FEZ being reconstituted with (mostly) previously unaligned parties, they looked towards consolidating their own wealth. Just like always. After helping to free the firstborn Margek from his stasis pod, Steven officially announced his return to life in precisely the way you would imagine--in an advertisement for the Aphrodite Ultra-Resort. Apparently he had been recovering from a shrapnel wound to his head from the HCAC bombings two years back, and didn't want to leave investors in limbo if he went through a slow death. Like ripping off a band-aid, he wished to push a new Board in place so that confidence and stability in the market could be achieved earlier. Most shareholders accepted this version of events as simply the act of an eccentric veteran businessman wishing to protect his company. Behind closed doors however, whispers of him appearing out of nowhere in a white suit were a favourite topic for conspiracy enthusiasts. And people still couldn't explain the testimonies of him not being present for the negotiations during the bombings... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: 4AP by default, 12AP from trade (+prosperity federation bonus), 4AP from population, 4AP from 8th Crusade, 3AP from industry, 2AP from business, 9AP from sectors. Total = 38AP -A huge sum of cold, hard cash is sent to the Han dominion for the purpose of paying off the debt to their hirelings. Many bankers shake their heads in disappointment. But, so long as the THC was dead and gone, it must have been worth it. Right? (-20AP) -Further personnel and resources are sent to the Han Dominion in order to build a battleship in their shipyard. The Han owe the Corporation quite a bit, and the Corporation plans to collect every bit. (-8AP) -Resources are sent to the Thulean Republic for them to build a trade station. Typical French, always wanting hand-outs... (-5AP) -The itoron mining worlds of Wollongong, Helix, and Grand Ares continue to be brutally exploited and expanded by the ravenous mining subsidies. When will it stop? Never. It will never stop. (-5AP to industry) -The board contacts the recently released Firstborn Margek. They invite him to the Grand Aurora Institute of Technology in order to show him a recent artefact uncovered by an exploration team. They explain that the artefact in question was a pair of vials from what appeared to be a hospital, but they were having trouble identifying precisely what the substances contained within them were. (-0AP) Map Changes: The red X's represent the two latest colonies, Woolongong and the former PAR colony. Both of which have itoron. The red lines represent the newest Corporate TCs.

F.E.Z. Free Economic Zone The recent conflicts in the southern quadrants have shown that there is a greater need for cooperation among the flourishing economic centres of the galaxy. Hence, this agreement is to solidify mutual cooperation among the trade-states and corporations that value equitable business ventures without the limiting nature of an overbearing central government. This confederation of independent systems will ensure that economic prosperity will be possible throughout the galaxy, even in times of war. We at FEZ wish to sincerely show our desire for a more profitable coexistence with those who share the value of unshackled enterprise. The power of the free market is the greatest force in the galaxy, and it is the express desire of the signatories herein to show their commitment to this common good. The Obligations of Confederated Members -Upholding the public relations of the FEZ. a) Respecting the non-aggression principle. b) Refraining from breaking deals. -Supporting the unobstructed flow of trade throughout the FEZ. -Members must be willing to defend the trade-lanes of FEZ from pirates and other obtrusive malcontents, with mutual military cooperation to meet this end. -All members must be willing to share intelligence and data for tracking criminal elements within confederated property. -Mutual sharing of resources during emergencies. -Mutual sharing of useful technologies during emergencies, with all copyright protections included. -Respecting the independent agency and sovereignty of all confederated members. Confederated Members: -Hephaestus Enterprises -Thulean Republic -The Trade Federation -Kingdom of Armathwaite

Now Selling Firstborn Cultural Replicas! Get Them While Stocks Last!! Firstborn City (Noun): An ancient edifice to a lost culture and power beyond imagination. Beyond priceless, the buildings have stood for millennia without disruption or calamity. Originally a place of meditation, it had a maximum population of about 23,000 before suddenly and inexplicably being abandoned. It was as if the whole town had simply stepped out and never come back. For an archaeologist, this place is a goldmine of history--an opportunity like no other to truly examine the mysterious forebears of all civilisations. Hephaestus Enterprises (Pronoun): A relatively new mega-corporation that doesn't give two squiggly shits about history. A hulking corporate freighter slowly touched down on surface of a pristine world, crushing plants, scattering animals, and disturbing the wild beauty that had lasted untold aeons. An unnatural, metal screech echoed through the plains, and the vessel's great cargo door slowly groaned open. A thousand Tithonus droids poured out of the hold and assembled on the plain. After a few minutes, the mass of bargain war-machines formed into lines and clattered off down the overgrown streets. They entered and secured each building, seeking threats to their charge, yet finding none. Finally, when the coast was clear, a young man and his entourage stepped off the vessel. Johnny Penrith, heir to Hephaestus Enterprises, walked into the timeless city with researchers and marketeers in tow. After a few hours of taking pictures, surveying some of the larger buildings, and discussing the market value of the cultural artefacts, young John gave the order to his researchers to strip the city to the bone. At first, the droids only collected interesting pieces of technology. After all, that was the most pragmatic option to further the Corporation's long-term goals. After everything more complicated than a wheel was taken, they moved on to cultural items—musical instruments, books, clothes, cutlery, artworks, and even pieces of the walls that struck the researchers as ‘pretty.’ A vast procession of plunder, like an ancient triumph of Rome, snaked its way through the streets of the city, ending at the cargo hold of the great freighter, with the crew compiling extensive lists of loot. Which included two disruptor pistols, and eight functioning firstborn servitors. It would take a few trips to transport everything of worth off the planet, but the most important item was sent straight to labs on Aurora. Two vials of an unidentified substance, with labels written in an unknown text. The mystery was too much to resist! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The soft hum of Johnny's quantum alarm clock woke him with a start. Another nightmare. There were only nightmares since his father's suicide last year. It was the same one every night. He was in his father's office. Former CEO Steven Penrith was looking out the window with a smile, while fires burned across the face of Hades. It was like the featureless landscape were kindling, and the flames spread to almost every building, factory, and ship. The Protorian Archivar was there, too. He stared at Johnny with golden eyes and held out his hand. Between his fingers was a coin with a spiral pattern on both faces. It hurt to look at it. As he reached out to touch the coin, the Protorian turned to ash and faded away, just as the fire from outside to the office slowly creeping towards-- As always, he woke up at this point. For a few moments after his eyes opened, the after-image of the Archiver's eyes burned in his vision. ******* dreams. Some of the Board had recommended a number of qualified psychoanalysts, but he couldn't allow himself to be seen at a quack's office. God knows how the markets would react if the inheritor of Hephaestus was deemed mentally unfit. Pulling himself out of his naval cot, he took a brief moment to recall his surroundings in his morning haze. He had commandeered a bed in the crew-quarters last night. He hated sleeping in the same place more than twice. After the HCAC bombings, he was paranoid about being vaporised with xylorite explosives, and it didn't seem to matter that he and the Corporation were not the target of the original attack. When a totally unremarkable employee could be made a terrorist, who knows what random sailor could be in the employ of butchers? He pulled on his suit - form-fitted for his sixteen-year-old self - and skulked out of his room. Four burly Enforcers stood guard outside his quarters and stood to attention as he walked past him. Falling into line as he walked past, they marched silently behind their employer like dutiful dogs while shooting threatening looks at sailors who walked too close. It took almost twenty minutes of trudging through snaking corridors and travelling up numerous elevators before they party reached the bridge of the spacecraft. "Trucker Bill" was the Corporation's largest freighter. With the Corruptor war swiftly moving out of Hephaestus' view, the massive Tassaran-built ship was re-purposed for the transport of more 'sensitive' assets. In this case, the asset was Johnny. The Captain of the vessel, a Galaron, saluted the young industrialist as he walked on to the command deck. "Good morning, Mr Penrith," he croaked in slightly accented English. "I trust your quarters were of reasonable quality? Your request for a transfer was rather short-notice." "Yeah, yeah, they were fine, mate. Cheers." Johnny was not interested in the platitudes of the captain. The Galaron always seemed to try and impress him with his skill as master and commander. John, however, was not in the mood for networking (he couldn't even remember the captain's name), and he sat himself down in front of the holographic solar map that occupied the middle of the bridge. It's twirling images of the local star and planets made him feel slightly queasy just looking at them. "Any messages for me?" "Yes, Mr Penrith," purred the captain, "there was a communication sent from Hades. Sadly, some form of interference delayed it for almost a week. Shall I bring it up for you?" John gestured lazily towards the holo-projector, and nodded. In an instant, the planets disappeared, and were replaced by the incessant smiling visage of Jim Bean, currently the acting CEO. "G'day, Johnno, pal!" the beaming Bean began. "Hope you're doing well! Your mum sends her regards, but I think she's sending you a message a bit later!" Jim performed a well-practised laugh, though it only inspired a grunt from John. It was a quality laugh, though. It probably tested well in focus groups. "Now, I know you might still be a bit sour about being sent off on this little galactic outing, boss, but your old lady was pretty adamant that you needed to get out of the tower for a while. You can't stay cooped up forever, my man. What's better than a real-life adventure, right? Plumbing the depths of ancient, alien tombs, like in those old movies Ste-" Jim caught himself commendably well. Visible discomfort flashed across his features for the merest instant, before he regained his composure. "-like in those old movies, huh? So yeah. Get out there, rip up some ancient stone-work and try not to incur some mummy's curse, hey?" After the next bout of laughter, John couldn't help but roll his eyes. He was already on his way back after doing that very thing. Just how old was this message? "Anyway, on the business side of things, we've finished repairs on the main building and landing zones that were damaged last year. Which is just as well, because, ah, the ‘Big Man’ is pretty upset that they're still ongoing.” ‘Big Man?’ What? Jim suddenly lost his cheesy smile, and spoke very seriously. “Look, John mate? We felt that you should finish your trip and come back first, but I’d feel like a pretty shitty person if I didn’t tell you this. I hope you’re sitting down, because what I’m going to tell you is a bit of a doozy.” A doozy? What on Earth could Jim Bean think a ‘doozy’ was? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back in settled Corporate space, gossip and rumours had begun to circulate that an old man in a white suit had been walking around the streets of Hades before entering the HCAC building. This in itself would not be that significant, but the old man in question seemed to have an uncanny resemblance to Steven Penrith. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: 4AP by default, 6AP through trade, 4AP from the 8th Crusade, 8AP from sectors, 3AP from industry, 2AP from business, 4AP from population, Total = 31AP -Resources are sent to the Han Dominion in order to aid in the expansion of their shipyard. (-10AP) -Massive mining expansions to the newly-settled planet of Woolongong (sponsored by Woolongong Workshops) are ordered by the board. The desolate, featureless world makes the miners nostalgic for Hades and Grand Ares. They strive to honour their homeworlds by ripping apart the itoron-rich landscape with zero concern for neatness or waste-management. (-5AP) -Two vials of an unknown substance recovered from an ancient Firstborn city are sent to the Grand Aurora Institute of Technology. The extensive laboratories and researchers would no doubt discover the purpose of the vials. (-4AP) -Two colony ships are ordered for construction. One would be sent to the PAR, in order to remove and resettle the population of a system that is unpleasantly close to Corporate borders. The other would transport Corporate employees to the system in order to colonise it themselves. Though, the PAR would retain exclusive rights to mine the planet's rich itoron deposits. (-6AP) -Honouring an agreement with the Sovereign Military Order of Malta, the Corporation orders a sleek, sexy advertisement campaign to be played in surrounding alien and human nations (but oddly, not in Hephaestus space). It advertises a beautiful tourist resort, but also subtly hints towards the advantages of immigrating to Malta-space. (-4AP) -"Project: Peach" (-2AP)

no_input please contact admin The terrible attacks on Hades reminded many of the shell-shocked citizens about the corruptor incursion some fifteen years ago. Due to the terrible attacks, the Board became considerably disorganised with the death of Phillip Narau, and later, Steven Penrith. With the two commanding pillars of the Board gone, infighting and argumentation quickly spread across the planet. The head of the HERMES program Jim Bean took the reigns of CEO by the vote of the Board, and with his negotiation skills he settled the divisions and brought order to the commanding structure of the Corporation. With him in control, a full investigation of the attack is performed with the aid of many other human nations, and the co-operation of numerous alien ones. Steven Penrith's suicide caught his family completely off-guard. His son was especially hard hit, and refused to leave his room for a week. Since he was deemed too young to head the company, Jim Bean acts as CEO until he is considered old enough to take over. Until then, he would continue his education while his company shares would be under the guardianship of his mother, Sally Penrith. With the end of the lock-down, the remaining parties of the delegates are allowed to leave the planet. However, the Enforcers are still on the street in droves, keeping a watchful eye on all proceedings. A surprising number of the smiling HERMES agents are also on the planet. Seemingly everywhere. Watching. The Acquisition Frenzy officially ends, with commerce normalising and balancing to the chaotic norm. Whatever Aurora was, it has been replaced by ravenous capitalists, with only the scientific institutions retaining any form of the old Auroran culture. The difference between a Hades employee and an Auroran employee is the accent. Soon, maybe that will be gone as well. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- :://Excerpt from quantum holovision broadcast 'HEPHAESTUS ULTRA-NEWS!'//:: A pair of colourful anchors sit behind an equally colourful desk. Above their heads, a massive screen flashes 'Hephaestus Ultra-News'. The anchors, despite their lively appearance, look tired, and shabby. The tattooed anchor wearing a cyan three-piece suit speaks gravely as he stares at the camera. "... officially confirmed that CEO Penrith has passed away. The Board is not currently commenting any further on the nature of his death, but there is considerable speculation that it may be connected to the recent attack at the HCAC." The other fluffy-haired anchor places her finger to her earpiece briefly and listens intently. "It appears acting CEO Jim Bean is about to address the press outside of the HCAC right now. We're going over to that now." The image cuts to a lectern where Jim Bean is standing. He is without his trade-mark smile, and the bags under his eyes might indicate a lack of sleep. He begins to speak in a raspy voice. "The Hephaestus Board would like to express our deepest apologies for the loss of life that has occurred on our Administration world. Despite our security measures an attack was performed in the heart of our corporation--one which lead to the deaths of many important figures in the Southern Galaxy. Our sympathy goes out to every nation and individual affected by these horrific attacks. We hope that, despite this tragedy, the peace process may continue unabated. An agreement was reached mere moments before the first explosion, if footage of the event can be believed." Jim takes a deep breath before continuing. Extensive investigations conducted by Corporate agents and other volunteering agencies have found the following; "A Galaron employee who had been a part of the Hephaestus family for almost two years violated his contract by planting explosives beneath the conference room for the meeting delegates, and in the transport of the Redon. Both explosives were placed through supposed routine maintenance, and neither Enforcers or Redon guards noticed during security sweeps. Upon planting the explosives, the Galaron left Corporate space for the GTFO, where a safehouse was prepared for him. A Tassaran arrived, wherein the Galaron agent was assassinated in order to tie up loose ends. After tracking the Tassaran to his namesake's republic, it was discovered that he received payment for the murder via bank transfer in the Skellar Kingdom. Here, a Skellar who went only by the name of "Val" transferred payment. Tracking his movements halfway across the galaxy, agents observed him exiting the same train at four different stops without getting back on, and entering a hotel without ever leaving. A picture with "Artist's impression" written beneath is pops up on the screen. At said hotel, we found a box that, when opened, contained a smaller box, and so on and so on..." Jim was clearly trying to move through his statement quickly, at this point. "However, the perpetrator was not found. Analysts have concluded that he may have been in possession of arcane teleportation technology, or somehow managed to slip past all cameras, witnesses, and law-enforcement on five separate occasions. Within his boxes contained this symbol, which is ah, a somewhat-obscure symbol from a northern-galactic religion. When cross-referencing these facts with other murders over history, we found three other cases in the galaxy where similar symbols were found. The same boxes and symbol, etcetera. There is, however, no connection between them. It can therefore be assumed that these people were not politically motivated, but were actors on behalf of someone else. Since none of the southern-galactic leaders went unscathed, we can assume that this was not orchestrated by any of the leaders at the table that dreadful day. We have suspicions that some unrelated power may have hired this band of pretentious, arrogant wankers to butcher the delegates in order to continue the war. We hope that all the concerned parties will consider this. We will not make excuses for ourselves. The Corporation has failed all those who came into our space. We felt we were ready for such tasks, but clearly we were wrong. Once more, our hearts and sympathy go to all those who lost their lives. If anyone has any information, we urge you to contact your local law-enforcement. Jim nods once, and proceeds back through the doors of the HCAC, flanked by Enforcers. //::Excerpt Ends::// Action Points: 4AP by default, 6AP from trade, 4AP from 8th Crusade, 7AP from sectors, 3AP from industry, 1AP from business, 4AP from population. -Just like every year, another group of destroyers are put into production. Three over-designed vessels are built. (-12AP) -The Board approves of an advertisement campaign geared towards professors. Wanting to fill up the Grand Auroran Institute of Technology with the best of the best. They notably advertise the considerable facilities and grants available to professionals. (-5AP) -A massive expansion of the Itoron mines on Grand Ares and Helix are ordered by the Board. Business must continue, no matter what. (-5AP) -From some information gleaned from the late Protorian Archiver and Chaal, the Corporation begins a massive survey of all it's controlled systems and territorial claims. They're searching specifically for anything related to Firstborn 'boxes,' though in all honesty finding anything interesting would suffice. (-7AP) -Yet another colony ship chock-full of miners races off to one of the itoron-rich planets identified last year. (-0AP)

Better Prices, Better Value, Better Service! The surprise across Corporate Space is palpable. All the warring factions across the Southern galaxy had unanimously chosen Hephaestus Enterprises to be the site for negotiation. Well, if they were going to be the site for negotiation, they were going to present the HIGHEST PR-BOOSTING RESPONSE POSSIBLE. Rather than the usual site for negotiations in the Grand Cairo Casino, Hephaestus opts to invite them to the towering gray monolith of the Hephaestus Central Administration Building. Special arrangements are made for the arriving diplomats. The best conference room in the tower is requisitioned, along with a small number of experienced caterers and decorators. The decor was to look tasteful and attractive, but not overly bombastic. Drinks and small snacks catered to the varying species will be supplied. Should it be desired, private rooms will be put aside for the factions to gather notes and discuss things outside earshot from the others. Significant space would be bought up nearby the tower for landing space. The enforcers are put on high alert, and will be securing the streets and skyways near the path the delegates will travel. Any attempts to disrupt or attack the convoy will be met with stern force. Those left over will be keeping an eye on overly-emotional employees. Any race-based violence would be put down, and the employees fined, or even fired. The terms of Hephaestus hinges on the following things--the details of which are sent to those involved. 1. No more than four warships equal to or smaller than a standard destroyer may escort the delegates into Corporate space. 2. No more than six armed guards may escort the delegate planet-side. 3. Any attempts to attack one-another while in Corporate space will be met with forceful ejection, and the offending parties will be billed for any damage to employees and property. If deemed necessary, Hephaestus offers up Phillip Narau - lead accountant - as a mediator during the meeting. Action Points: 4AP by default, 6AP through trade, 4AP through 8th Crusade Port, 4AP from population, 7AP from sectors, 3AP from industry, 1AP from business, 4AP from USA (this turn only). :33AP in total: -Hephaestus accepts the request to host the negotiations within its borders. (refer to the previous parts of this post for details). (-0AP) -An order is received from the United States of Arcturus to construct and deliver 15,000 "Defender" droids, which in reality were just re-branded Tithonus droids. As per their request, programming manuals and modification tools are sent along with the 'bots so the Arcturans can re-purpose the droids to use weapons other than the default ones they come with. Why? Who cares. Money!! (-3AP) -An order is placed for a colony ship. Produced over Hades, bidding instantly begins for seats on the spacecraft, with a majority of mining subsidiaries getting tickets. (3AP) -The Acquisition Frenzy continues. Steven Penrith is bloody impressed (mate!) about the tenacity and profitability of his new employees! He watches in glee as some former-Auroran subsidiaries make it on to the Board, replacing a few of the more languid Board members. Free-market capitalism, baby! (-3AP) -More resources are sent to the former-Auroran scientific institutions! What Jim Bean hopes to gain from all this is still anyone's guess, but it's expected some sort of venture from him will occur in the future. (-2AP) -The ship-borne laser-lances continue to be worked on. Surprised and confused that the scientists and engineers continue to decrease energy consumption (useful, no doubt), the Board politely reminds them that they're supposed to make them more powerful in terms of burning things holes in things. Still, they hadn't failed them yet, and energy-efficiency would be good for catering to later improvements. (-10AP) -The shipyard over Aurora and Hades fire up once again. Despite their high cost, three destroyers are put into production. (-12AP) -Finding that that the words on the tablet are indecipherable even to Protorian experts, Steven begins to wonder just how much it's worth. Grabbing hold of a few HERMES agents to transport it, he contacts the Protorian Archiver for an assessment and possible translation. (-0AP)

Buying Friends has Never been Easier!! The Acquisition Frenzy continues on the new Hephaestus worlds, with natives and foreigners battling for market supremacy on all economic fronts. Unfortunately for the Aurorans, this was not a battle that could be won by anyone. Hephaestus was not a state seeking control, it was a cattle-ranch with the cows buying and selling the grass. This was Hephaestus' great economic strength. The Acquisition Frenzy was only notable for those living on the newly acquired planets. This was life in Hephaestus. The eternal war for profit. The Race. Soon, they wouldn't even notice, or care. On the topic of grass, the introduction of the Darkul seems like an excellent opportunity for trade. The notation and samples of the exotic grasses they consumed made many farmers on Corporate worlds wonder what they were doing with their lives. Happy to accept the Zyrka's contribution, and rewarding him appropriately, the Corporation upgrades all existing Tithonus models to the new Mk IIs. Cheap, expendable, and now smart, they were built for export. Granted, when the GTFO's monopolist license runs out... Happy to accept the little Grgl's efforts in the Corporation, the Board watches the newest subsidiary ply his trade. They would be watching very closely. All of them knew that McPhaestus had potential to thrive if someone had talent enough to exploit it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The thundering clatter of a thousand metal feet echoed in a percussive, chaotic melody. The newly christened Tithonus Mk IIs marched into the cargo-hold of huge freighter without thought or question--flowing to their destination in an unrelenting river of steel and guns. Technicians darted around the ranks of those still waiting to be packed away, performing system diagnostics and general quality tests. Hephaestus was always cost-efficient, but though their products were cheap to produce they never skipped on functionality. As the next line of combat droids walked themselves into the bowels of the waiting ship, an old Australian man stood next to his accountant. Both were watching the machines walk their way to their new owners with feelings of satisfaction only understood by ravenous capitalists. CEO Steven Penrith leaned on the gangway's railing, with his walking stick resting on his shoulder. His white hair and wrinkled features were a far cry from the man who expanded his business to an alien world all those decades ago. Phillip Narau - Super-Accountant - dwarfed his employer significantly. His heavily tattooed face obscured most of his expressions with the exception of his glaring, cold eyes. He carefully scrolled through numbers and shipping details on a comparatively small data-pad. "We have at least six-thousand more to be loaded, Mr Penrith. Afterwards we will store the Silver Knight's order in this vacant space when they've been manufactured." Steven nodded slowly and drew himself away from the railing with a grunt. Letting his cane tap down on the steel grating, he hobbled along the gangway with a greedy smirk. "Bloody good business, this, Phil. We should manufacture a heap of the buggers just in case we get more buyers. People love our droids, mate!" Phillip followed closely behind Steven without looking up from his pad. "We're fortunate in our timing. The Silver Knights-" "Kingdom of Armathwaite," Steven interjected with a mock-British accent. "-Kingdom of Armathwaite," Phillip corrected, "recently left The Human Cooperative. Perhaps they're worried for their continuing survival? We may be able to capitalise on ensuing paranoia." Steven grunted half-heartedly, and turned a corner into a small office space. The desks were packed tight next to one-another, with clerks making calls and organising their paperwork and data-entries. All of them kept an almost reverential distance from Steven and Phillip as they passed through. "I don't think there's much point in direct advertising. They're too savvy for that. We might try that angle with those Orimon boys later, though." Exiting the office, they entered yet another gangway, this time overlooking a factory floor. "This lot might be the last of the MK I variants we make. Bloody shame. I hope the Maltesers appreciate our 'bots." Conveyors upon conveyors were covered in droid-parts in varying states of completion. Automatic servo-arms pieced together the war-machines bit by bit, while human workers installed the weapons and computational parts further down the line. The whole hall was a symphony of loud cracks and hisses from the machines, and the barking orders from factory supervisors. "Talking about sales, has our ah, little fruit project been completed?" "We have recieved the results, sir. We plan to begin our own tests next year." "Yeah, good. I'm going to be honest, Phil. This was a dirty deal. Probably the worst one I've been a part of." Steven stopped where he was, and rested on his cane. With his shoulders slumped, he appeared decades older than he was. "No more, after this. You understand? Under no circumstances will we do so again." Phillip nodded stoicly, and carefully placed his data-pad into a pocket. "Our PR was maintained, Mr Penrith. We needn't worry. I agree it would be wise not to do so again, regardless." The two walked in silence above the manufacturing cacophony, until they reached an observation window. Tables and chairs were scattered around the area, clearly meant for lunch-breaks during the longer shifts. Brushing some paper wrappers from the table, Steven sat down with a quiet wheeze, and rested his weary legs. A thought occurred to him that brought a smile to his face. He waggled a finger at Phillip and laughed. "You know my little Johnny bought his first business today? Bloody hell, the kid's a damn natural, Phil. Redmond-Rock Ice-Creamery is growing quick! I bet the little ripper already has expansion plans! I wonder if I should ask? I probably shouldn't, he won't want to reveal his strategy..." Noticing Phillip was obviously unmoved by his glowing praise of his son, Steve changed his angle. "I'm surprised you don't have kids, Phil! You're getting a bit long-in-the-tooth to start a family. You may want to get started some time." "I've already done so, sir." "You have?" "I have." "Bloody hell! Why haven't I seen them, then?! I'd love to meet them!" "That would be difficult." "Why's that?" "They're on Earth." "Oh. They've karked it?" "Yes, sir. They were not at the standard required to leave." "Jeez, Phil, I would have let you bring them if I knew! Who was the bastard in charge of the passenger list?!" "Me, sir. My spouse was unwilling to work, and my son was more occupied with alcohol and narcotics than creating his own wealth. They were a poor investment. I saw no need to bring them." "Oh. Fair enough, then." And so they quietly raided the employee-fridge and ate lunch. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aurora was not the planet it was a year ago. The marketeers had arrived bearing money, business plans, and honeyed words. Now the world was uprooted from its technological vision and slowly being transformed into a hive of ever-changing shops, factories, and affordable housing. The citizens, at first resentful, now found themselves digging into the system—working for cheap, rising through the ranks, and building their personal wealth. It was difficult not to be consumed in the great dance of the market, and the former citizens were no exception. High above the growing sprawl, the rechristened “Grand Aurora Institute of Technology” was slowly rising further into the air fuelled by the resources pouring in from Hades. The old colony was being replaced brick by brick, except the inhabitants were too busy to care. In a brand new tenement building deep in an equally new budget housing district, a woman was making narcotics. The Auroran highlands were filled with strange, intoxicating flora and fauna. Some of which could be refined into all sorts of addictive hallucinogens for the consumption and enjoyment of thrill-seekers. Lacy was a second-generation migrant to Aurora. Her parents had been from a small planet in the Tassaran Republic and moved to Aurora to capitalise on the primitive humans and aid their agricultural processes. Her mother was involved in the domestication of the giant egg-worms that dotted the landscape between the cragged peaks. Lacy, however, had never seen a Tassaran world--she was an Auroran born and raised, and proud of her little planet. Sadly she wasn’t as attuned to the academic world like her parents. She was clever, but she lacked the same drive to learn and achieve. She skulked the streets in her youth and made friends in bad places while absorbing “skills” that would not be appreciated in the University of Technology. When Hephaestus took over, the criminal underbelly of Aurora was disrupted and upturned, leaving Lacy high and dry. So this time she chose to go into business for herself. Lacy was quite frustrated with her latest experiment. She was tired of brewing the local flavour of narcotic-cocktails and her latest work with poisonous plants from Capricorn wasn’t turning out too well. She had attempted to grow a small tree in her living-room known for its hallucinogenic qualities. Yet, despite all the hydroponic equipment she had on her person, growing a tree in a house wasn’t particularly viable. Also, the seeds and cuttings she bought may not actually be an alien plant, but rather a common weed. Inside her sealed, plastic, hydroponic tent, Lacy groaned and stretched. The oppressive heat from the lamps was not doing the job, and her shirt was stuck to her back from sweat. With a sigh, she stepped out from her UV-oven into the relative cool of her living room, and tossed the remainder of the seeds in her auto-disposal unit. She would need to produce the boring, common varieties of drugs in order to make up for the loss. In the corner, much maligned and ignored, a few monitors started flashing red. Lacy had set up a security system with a few subtle cameras hidden around the tenement complex; programmed to sound off when they detected significant spikes in movement. The movement in this instance seemed to be a squad of blue-clad, laser-toting Enforcers. They were securing the exits, elevators, stairwells, or anything that she could potentially slip out of. ****. Even now they were clomping up to her level, which was less than ideal for her, all things considered. Everyone in this building was a law-abiding wage-jockey of some description (she had investigated them herself) so there was really only one person they could possibly be gunning for. She acted fast—there was already a plan in place for this inevitability, but she had about five minutes, tops. She clearly hadn't time to pack, so she snatched up her thick, wormskin coat. Knocking books, pipes, and ash-trays off her desk, she scrabbled up her data-pad and wallet. Client-lists were important for her work, and losing these connections would mean she’d have to start from square one. There was a thundering of feet in the hall outside her doorway. It was now, or never. Apartments with windows were always more expensive, but they were invaluable for impromptu exits. Lacy heaved the glass pane outward and wriggled herself through the opening with vocalised effort. Tassarans were always a little too tall for standard human dimensions, especially for doorways and windows. The fire escape she had pulled herself onto was mercifully wide, however, and she scrambled down the metal grating towards the alleyway below. Not bothering to kick down the final ladder, she jumped onto the concrete below, just as she heard the loud crash of her apartment’s door being kicked in. As she straightened herself, she laughed at her luck. They hadn’t secured the side-alley yet. The undulating mass of pedestrians was waiting only twenty feet away from her. No-one would find her once she disappeared into the crowd. “Falling on hard times, hey love?” Lacy jerked her head to her left. There was a middle-aged man in a black suit looking at her quizzically, and leaning against the wall of the tenement. From his Hades’ accent she knew he was a foreigner, but what was he doing here? He dressed too well for a wage-jockey, and he was much too calm to be a resident. He made her nervous. Swiftly picking herself up, she raced at full-sprint out of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn the man gave her a big, cheesy smile. The crowds were packed tight in BestBuy Street. Hephaestus wasn’t used to infrastructure based around ground-cars, and was quickly doing away with wide roads. Above her head steel walkways were being assembled for faster commute among the buildings, while flying transports dotted the skyline. The street-lamps felt almost unnecessary in addition to miles of neon signs and holo-screens blaring advertisements, casting ghostly, multicoloured light on everyone around them. The planet was rapidly changing all around her. The old rules and etiquette were tossed out the back door with the government, taxes, and welfare. She remembered when the street had a line of cafes and a small art gallery—now it was shop after shop filled with slimy businesspeople. Except the art gallery. It was still there. Except now the curators were weirdos in latex overalls. She felt a tingle down the back of her spine. It was a primal instinct she'd put of a lot of faith in during her life. She kept up her casual pace – running would be suspicious – and discretely looked around herself. She didn’t see any Enforcers, and employees surrounded her on all sides. Despite this, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. The cold sweat building on her forehead and the grimy, humid perspiration running down her back made every step through the claustrophobic sprawl chafing. She needed to look behind her, but she also couldn’t risk her pursuer knowing that she knew she was being followed. A wide glass pane on a shop-front was coming up on her right. This was her chance to get a brief glance. As she walked by the generic Hephaestus appliance outlet, she glanced in the widow’s reflection. Not seven feet behind her was the suit from the alley, with his data-pad tucked under his arm. He was still smiling. She started pushing through the crowd as fast as she could. He wasn’t a businessman, or some rich prick slumming it around the tenements. He was a ******* Smiler. She found a gap amongst the walkers and broke into a full sprint again. She needed to put distance between herself and the Smiler if she had any chance of escaping into what was left of the underworld. She wouldn’t look behind herself now. Couldn’t risk tripping over errant feet or refuse on the footpath. She charged around a corner, knocking over a pamphleteer bleating about the latest deals from some place or another. Pamphlets and coupons were flung violently in the air, raining down on confused customers. Food-carts pawing off Grgl goop by the pound squeezed out what little room was left on the street, forcing lacy to charge through cues of hungry employees. Angry shouts and rude gestures followed her as she knocked food out of hands in her flight. At the end of the street, her heart sunk when she saw two familiar blue uniforms. One of the Enforcers was talking on his communicator. As she violently burst out of the lines, the two Enforcers head spun to face her, and the three regarded one-another for a brief, silent second. “Employee 697,112AU! Halt, and submit for audit!” shouted one of the blue-clad heavies. Both drew their laser-pistols and ran towards her. Lacy flew down an adjacent alleyway pushing over pedestrians as she went. The damp alley was unoccupied, aside from rubbish-bags and dumpsters. Local vermin scurried around the garbage of a hundred different homes as Lacy’s burning legs finally gave out. In front of her was a wire fence, too tall to climb, and she was too tired to make a pathetic attempt. Twelve enforcers marched into the alley wordlessly, weapons drawn. Lacy just watched and caught her breath. She had done everything she could. It was over. As they approached, the squad parted in two, allowing a man in the business suit bearing a cheesy smile to walk towards her. The Smiler. Her Pursuer. The little H.E.R.M.E.S. pin on his front pocket glistened in the neon light, and his ivory-white teeth juxtaposed with the relative gloom. HERMES agents, or Smilers as most people called them, were the Corporation’s... something. No-one really knew what their job was specifically, outside of the vague business jargon that made up their name. They always seemed to have their noses in a lot of places; so many that pinning down their purpose was difficult. Yet, they seemed to be everywhere. Their uncanny ability to hold big, friendly smiles earned them their eponymous nickname. Most people found them to be quite approachable and pleasant. Lacy however had always found them cold and creepy. When he finally stood in front of her, the pulled he data-pad out from under his arm, and his smile seemed to broaden. “Employee 697,112AU? Ms “Lacy”? I take it? You don’t appear to have a second name registered. That’s okay sweetheart, we don’t need those.” Lacy stood stock-still, and nodded once. She was still attempting to catch her breath. No point in denial now. “Anyway, lovely to meet you, Lacy. I’m Tim Julie. I’ll be your auditor. Are you able to make a payment today?” At this, Lacy simple stared blankly in confusion. Tim seemed to pick up on this instantly. “As per Corporate protocols, all subsidiaries are required to pay a contribution fee to Hephaestus Enterprises in order to upkeep Enforcer security, unprofitable infrastructure, and other projects deemed necessary to ensure future profit and growth. Do you understand, Ms Lacy?” Clearly, Lacy was not understanding. Tim spoke calmly and continued toting his winning smile. “Aren’t you employee 697,112AU, owner of “Lacy’s Deep Trips?" The hallucinogenic manufacturer?” Lacy suddenly seemed to shake out of her trance, and nodded quickly. She made that ‘subsidiary’ as a joke with her friends! She didn’t even put her real employee ID on it! How did they find her? How did they know?! “Now,” Tim continued, possibly tired from explaining the situation (though you’d never be able to tell behind his expression). “You’ve missed two of your quarterly payments, so you’re required to pay the outstanding 5,788 HEcreds. This accounts for the first quarter’s missing payment. Will you be able to make your second quarter’s payment today as well?” It was as if she was in a dream. She took her wallet from her coat, pulled out her HEcredit-card and swiped it across the front of the data-pad. A cheerful “ping” and a green light briefly flashed. “It’s just gone through, Lacy. Thanks for that. Try not to forget next time, okay? Have a fulfilling, Hephaestus evening!” And with that, Tim pivoted on his heel and walked back down the alley, flanked by all of the Enforcers, until she was alone in the alley. What the hell was happening to this planet? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: 4AP by default, 4AP by trade, 4AP through the 8th Crusade, 3AP from population, 7AP from sectors controlled, 3AP from industry, 1AP from business. -Now ensconced within the GTFO's trade-lanes, Hephaestus begins construction of a vast trade-station above Hades, independent of the current shipyard. It mostly surprised the Board how no-one had thought of doing this before! (-10AP) -After hearing customer feedback about their laser-lance's performance, Hephaestus places significant resources into improving the energy-output of their lances. The first of many investments, they hope to make their lances far more powerful for future conflicts. (10AP) -The Acquisition Frenzy continues, with the rest of the former Auroran worlds pulled into the Race. (-3AP) -Further improvements are chartered for the Auroran scientific institutions. Their academies WILL be better than the competition. (-3AP) -17,000 of the stored Tithonus Mk Is are upgraded to the Mk II variant, and shipped to the GTFO. (-0AP) -Eight frigates are sent on scouting missions to unoccupied systems bordering Corporate space. Their purpose is to search and scan for important resources for future exploitation. (-0AP) -Amanda Phelps continues her drills with the remaining Hephaestus fleet. (-0AP) -The former Auroran warships are sent to Hades for refitting, and to take part in the drills. (-0AP) -Steven Penrith, at the behest of curious onlookers, decides to send for someone to decipher the script on the tablet given to him by the Grgl. There could be more value to it than simply being a nice piece of decoration, after all. (-0AP)

More MORE MoRe MOre moRE mOre MoRe more MORE mORE MoRe MOrE moRe MorE MORe morE MORE!!! //We are sorry to report that your following broadcast of :AURORA DEBATE: is experiencing technical difficulties due to :INEXPLICABLE QUANTUM PHENOMENA: Channel 555 apologises for the interruption. Now playing complimentary excerpt from :WALRUS AND CARPENTER: We are now working on a solution. Your patronage is very important to us. Thank you for choosing Channel 555!// //Connection reestablished. Thank you for choosing Channel 555!// https://docs.google.com/document/d/1F_IjXGiDTECQRpWLmDFhyhn9JzQJMj9gVzpwbvt5H7w/edit -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was January of the New Year on the planet of Aurora. Though its alpine climate was chilly at that time (more than usual, anyway) the people were in a pleasant mood. The Hephaestus “merger” had many of the new employees worried, but after a week surprisingly little had changed. Many of the most pessimistic people thought they’d be relegated to salt-mines or sweat-shops, but Jim Bean appeared to be nothing but magnanimous during his time administrating Aurora. Other HERMES agents kept local comm-lines open to answer questions and aid with the transition. All government property had been auctioned off, and re-invested into Aurora by Administrator Bean. This had the effect of boosting the planet’s economy, raising wages, and just improving life in general. The new subsidiaries quickly took control of their growing assets and gleefully bought and sold all they could. However, there was a feeling of grim foreboding in their actions. All their advertising spoke about “supporting Auroran business” or “buying local.” They played on people’s emotions and loyalties but for no expressed reason. What were they afraid of? What could these unshackled industrial titans be afraid of? Above Aurora, the great space-station quietly milled away its time, inactive, save for the occasional Solarin construction team. Two servicemen (now initiate Enforcers) sat quietly observing the myriad of scanners that covered the walls in front of them. Suddenly, a spike on their monitors—a ship had arrived in the system. Before they could hail them, another popped into view. Then another. And then five others. A hundred others. Hundreds of ships, all from the same place--Hephaestus. “Is it an invasion?! The Keerim?! The Corruptors?!” cried one. “No, they’re civilian ships.” Said the other. The comms blared into life, as dozens of vessels hastily requested permission to descend to the planet’s surface. As they tried to process the few who had the courtesy to call in, the rest simply bypassed the station, and hurtled down to the surface. On the ground, the Auroran employees looked into the sky, and saw a hundred fiery streaks blaze against the atmosphere. Ships landed everywhere they could; when the landing-pads were full, they called property owners in order to purchase more space. Some simply opened their cargo holds, and hordes of briefcase-toting business-people jumped on to the ground risking injury or death. They race into shops, buildings, and even towards people on the street, seeking to buy property. Ravenous marketeers practically frothed at the mouth as they gazed around a whole new market, untapped and untouched by the outside. Like rabid dogs, they ran around jostling at every piece of marketable infrastructure in an attempt to assuage price. It was something that had not been seen since the purchase of New Zealand in 2080. The Acquisition Frenzy had begun. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action points 4AP by default, 4AP from trade, 4AP from 8th Crusade port, 7AP from Sectors, 3AP from population, 3AP from Industry, 1AP from Business, 1AP from Han Dominion (This turn only) 4AP from GTFO (This turn only) -Four more frigates are cued up in the shipyard, making a wide array of people extraordinarily happy. (-12AP) -“Project: Pineapple.” (-8AP) -The populace of the former Technocracy are introduced to the Race. The great economic war between the Hephaestus subsidiaries pours into the closest colonies, quickly overtaking many local businesses and industries. Though the locals aren’t just willing to give in, and a surprising number of native industries manage to hold their own against the Hephaestus onslaught. Indirect investment is also growing from subsidiaries and individuals who’d rather not leave the comfort of their own colonies. (-5AP) -As promised, the first round of upgrades are supplied to the academies and lesser educational institutions on Aurora. Multiple subsidiaries jostle for the chance to be the main contractor. Administrator Jim Bean promises further expansions. (-2AP) -GTC space-pounds are sent to the Corporation for the purpose of upgrading and delivering a great flurry of Tithonus combat droids. The armaments and mechanics were fine enough, but an upgrade to computational systems was deemed necessary. A combination of Solarin Hunter ‘bots tech, Solarin LAS II tech, Auroran robotics expertise, and plucky Hephaestus know-how go towards the new Tithonus tactical AI. Though it’ll still require a sentient to indirectly control group actions, they are being re-designed for greater individual autonomy, tactical awareness, and combat flexibility. It will be known simply as the Tithonus Mk II. (-4AP from Galactic Trade Federation of Orimon) -Amanda Phelps is returns to Hephaestus space after her year of learning from the Tassaran commander. She quickly gets into the habit of drilling her new fleet, and continues the war-games with her new knowledge. (-0AP) -Sophia Briarwood and a large contingent of Enforcers arrive in Auroran space for the purpose of retraining and initiating Auroran forces into the Enforcers. (-0AP) -The Grgl's gift is accepted gratefully by Steve and the Board. It is placed on his wall next to the Firstborn servitor and what appears to be a Van Gogh portrait. He offers the little Grgl a job in the Corporation, seeing as he's here, to take over a failing restaurant chain; McPhaestus. (-0AP)