Catostrophy

Hephaestus Holdings Incorporated Where the savings are passed on to YOU! Anyone walking near the office of Hephaestus CEO Steven Penrith would note the sound of sharp, electric crackles accompanied by innocent, childlike laughter. Phillip Narau--super-accountant--was standing in the waiting room with the agriculture and tourism mogul Milly Price, and mining magnate Jason Woolard. Phillip had suggested giving Mr Penrith a little more time before going to speak to him on business, as clearly he was not going to be in the mood for their conversation just yet. After waiting ten more minutes, the sounds finally subsided, and the trio entered the office. Steven was sitting in his large, leather chair carefully replacing an energy cell in his newly acquired laser-pistol. He was humming to himself contentedly, and nodded to the entering board-members with a smile. "You lot grabbed yourselves a laser-gun, yet?" He inclined his head towards a small box on the opposite side of the room, clearly containing a number of the newly tested laser-armaments. "Cheap-as-chips, easy to use, low recoil, and they don't need bullets. What's not to love, hey? I'm going to push getting our security boys armed with them before the year's out! Bloody Star Wars, these things!" He punctuated his comment by firing another shot into a well-worn metal target in the corner of his office. It was riddled with still-glowing melted divots and holes from his previous hours of fun. "Perhaps a little later, Sir," Phillip gently stated. "We're here to speak to you on the company's hiring policies." Steven nodded slowly, as he licked his finger and rubbed a scorch-mark off the barrel of his pistol. "Do you want to drop wages again? Bad PR, Phil. Didn't do it back then, won't do it now." "It's more about us hiring the aliens, Mr Penrith," interjected Milly. "The growth of non-human employees are troubling us." "Yeah yeah. The aliens taking human jobs, and such." Jason was clearly more interested in the box of laser weapons, and was pulling out what seemed to be a shotgun variant. "Hey? What are you buggers jibbering about?" "Sir," Phillip gently spoke. "There is a worry that the arrival and interbreeding with the Tassarean species fundamentally lowers the growth of human child-birth." Noting Steven's blank stare, he changed strategies. "Our human production is lower than our current competitors. We wish to invest in bridging the gap." Steven's expression hardened, and he leaned back in his chair steepling his fingers. "Hell, Phil. We're already working on my five-year-plan, mate. Can't this wait?" "In all due respect Mr Penrith," Milly jutted in again, "investing earlier would be wiser. Besides, projections tell us that we can match our production/mining output sooner than expected." Steven sighed angrily, and picked up his pistol again. "Alright alright, fine. I suppose we can do the whole 'human children are important' thing again. For one year. I'm not wasting more time than that." "It will be easy, sir. We still have all the material from the previous campaign. They were good incentives. They just need to be pushed a little harder." There was a louder, electrical snap as Jason sent a scatter-laser shot into Steve's target. "These things are great! Can I have one?" "Of course you can!" Steven gestured at Phillip and Milly. "We can all have one! C'mon guys! Lets blast this target to smithereens like we're stormtroopers!" With unsure glances, Phillip and Milly obliged, if only out of curiosity. And nothing productive was done for the rest of the day. A major multi-media advertising campaign begins, concentrating on increasing human breeding--possibly the heaviest campaign ever performed by the Company. Each advert stresses the importance of the human family, the traditions of the Earth-born Corporation, and the homes left behind. They play on the emotions of the human listener (and perhaps even the alien ones, if they are sympathetic), how it's their duty to aid in the replenishment of their race and, though there are other humans beyond Hades, they're not enough to be passive about it. They express the grandeur of the human species, their spirit, and their bravery. They connect it to the importance of humans to the Company. They describe everything so succinctly that it could instill guilt in the audience for any lack of action. The same incentives from the last attempt are offered, but framed in a superior way. These adverts are masterfully crafted by the top Hephaestus marketeers--it's clear the campaign was designed have long-lasting effects on human reproduction. (-4AP) Population: 115,500 Humans, 2,250 Grgl, 1000 Tassareans, 250 Human-Tassareans Military: 8,400 security forces, after voluntary sign-ups. Fleets: One drive-less colony ship, sitting idle. Accumulation List Mining: 8AP Manufacturing: 5AP Advertising and Market Research: 10AP Science One disassembled jump-drive sitting in some engineer's basement. Fully-functional laser weaponry

Hephaestus Holdings Incorporated Winner of the 2078 Industry's Award! With the laser rifle in its prototype stages, the board and Mr Penrith exclaim avid excitement over the continuing development of the 'space guns.' Mr Penrith, however, exclaimed some confusion over the inclusion of what appeared to be the application for some scientist. The CEO of Hephaestus was not the one to handle individual hires to departments he knew very little about. But since this individual had input into the space-gun's development he put in his own recommendation. Whoever owned the mining and engineering subsidiaries would make the choice later on. But since the CEO expressed interest, he might find his way in (He gets hired). Now that the prototypes were developed and patented, testing would begin in order to optimise performance. (-1AP) The increased mining operations spread across the richest deposits Hades had to offer. The landscape (thankfully far away enough for the employees not to see) was being torn through with such abandon that the miners had to start replacing their tools on a weekly basis. This was an acceptable loss, however, considering the minerals that were being drawn from the ground. Mining was good work, indeed. None knew this more than Jason Woolard, the leading man in mining development, and now one of the wealthiest board-members in Hephaestus Holdings. Today he was giving a tour to another very prominent board member, the heavily tattooed super-accountant Phillip Narau, around the latest expansion. "We have about two-hundred more positions that need filling. And boy howdy, are they filling fast! I'm getting people from just about every industry now, Mr Narau. Everyone wants a piece of my growing pie--especially me!" Jason smacked his rotund belly for emphasis, and let out a hacking laugh. Through the environmental suit, it sounded like a duck violently quacking. "Indeed, Jason. And please, call me Phillip. We are, after all, working toward the same goal. There is no need for formalities." The two walked past a group of engineers putting together a ten-foot laser-drill. One of many that were aimed at the rich mineral deposits below. "I am here, Jason, to inform you that we still require further mining expansions. Mr Penrith's plan will necessitate considerable resources in order to succeed. He has sent me personally to observe the current output." Jason gestured around himself, and let out another, now gurgling, laugh. "Good god, Phillip. Bring it on! I could burn through half the planet at this rate! With those fancy laser-guns you got me to finance, I've had my eggheads up the juice on my mining equipment. They cut through iron like butter." His face fell a little, barely visible through the visor of his environmental suit. "God, I miss butter..." "Funny that you should mention employment, Jason. That is in part what I came to speak to you of." The mining magnate narrowed his eyes at the accountant. He couldn't read the face of Phillip through his suit, not that he could even without it. Phillip was always a cold fellow. He couldn't imagine him losing a game of poker, let along betraying his thoughts through expression. "I thought Steve sent you." "He did." Phillip remarked coolly, "but I suggested it. Mr Penrith always listens to my suggestions. Just as I always carry out his more far-fetched orders. Because he only ever leads us upwards. In our case, quite literally." Jason could feel Phillips icy stare through the glass and the suit. He shivered, but not noticeably. "And what does employing people have to do with anything?" "Some of the other board members have expressed some concerns. Concerns that I agree with. I would like to know if, you too, agree. May we speak privately?" The two lumbered off to the local office complex, leaving the miners alone to tear up the earth once more. (-3AP The rabid mining expansion continues under Steve's 5 Year Plan. Ensuring that there will be many happy days of for miners to come.) Population: 111,500 humans, 1,750 Grgl, 750 Tassareans, 20 Hybrids. Millitary: 8,350 security forces, after the recruitment of all interested parties. Accumulation List Mining: 8AP Manufacturing: 5AP Advertising and Market Research: 6AP Science One disassembled jump-drive sitting in some engineer's basement. One working prototype for a laser weapon. Fleet One drive-less colony ship sitting idle, as it's no longer required for storage or power.

Haephestus Holdings Incorporated Shrinking Font-sizes since 2055! The office of Mr Penrith was closed that morning. The great industrialist had spent the whole night celebrating that he was not, in fact, the arbiter of humanity. The communicators given to him by the Tarrasseans/Grgl had not yet been used, but there were a few ideas the advertising guys had. Henceforth, he got immensely drunk. Now that he didn't have the survival of humanity to consider, he could get back to what he loved doing--business. Business and nothing else. His Maori super-accountant Phillip was more than pleased to see his employer back in good spirits, but a little less pleased he was imbibing them. Nevertheless, when Steven had recovered from his night of fun, he called a very important board-meeting. "Gentlemen, this is not only a great thing for us as a species, it's even better for us from a business perspective! We have potential markets our products were actually made for." The board members nodded in agreement as they slurped down their synth-coffee with sagely nods. "We're going to need to expand our operations tenfold. First up--we're getting business out the wazoo from our, erm..." "Tarrassean and Grgl, sir." "Thanks, Phil. Yeah, Tarrassean and Gurgle patrons. But we need to get an early foot into the human market. The best way for that, is convenience." Steven stands up from his chair, and begins to pace around the room gesticulating around himself dramatically."In my drunken stupor the previous night, I had... a vision." The board members started looking at one-another pensively. "I saw a galaxy dotted with Hephaestus super-markets. But not just that, space stations! The size of cities! All Hephaestus! Mega-marts of such immensity and magnitude that my mind could almost not comprehend. I saw spacecraft the size of skyscrapers, flying the vastness of space. They too, were super-markets, but they plied unknown worlds to sell our products to people who had not achieved spaceflight. And the profits. Good God, the profits..." The eyes of the board members became wistful. "...we had to create whole new units of measurement in order to count it. There was nothing we could not buy. It was.... beautiful." Some of the board-members began to tear up at the thought. Others simply nodded stoically, with small smiles edging on the sides of their mouths. "I want this vision to be a reality. I wish to institute a great expansion for Hephaestus. The 'Five Year Plan.' In this plan, we will concentrate our resources on expanding our mining operations, and industrial output, and finally, technology. We will create the first step in market dominance--the Hermes MegaMart!" Actions When Steven gave the order for massive mine-expansions, the mining subsidiaries, their employees, and their families were ecstatic. At last they had the opportunity to really begin tearing up the landscape. The lack of any atmosphere had been such a strange boon to them. They had never realised how pleasant completely unregulated mining operations could be. As a rule, the Head Office informed the miners that they absolutely could not work within eyesight of any Hephaestus settlement on the planet's face. It made for bad business, and could lead to a decline in retail value. Thus, the miners set off hundreds of kilometres from the main settlements, and began the most intensive operation in the history of the company. -3AP Intense mining expansions with zero fucks given to waste-management or aesthetics. Just the acquisition of resources. The board was interested in the Tarrassean scientist, and decided to mark him down for recruitment the next financial year. For now however, they preferred their work-horses to continue with their research into laser-weaponry. This time, they requested some working prototypes derived from the blueprints created in the previous year. They hoped the engineering and science department would let them down. -1AP into building a number of different prototypes. Population: 108,500 humans, 1000 Grgl, 500 Tarrasseans Millitary: 8,250 Security forces, after the recruitment of interested parties. Accumulation List Mining: 5AP Manufacturing: 5AP Advertising and Market Research: 6AP Science -One disassembled and incomprehensible jump-drive sitting in an engineer's basement somewhere. -Set of schematics for prototype laser weapons. Fleet: One drive-less colony ship currently being used for storage and power.

Hephaestus Holdings Incorporated The Digi-vision show "Hephaestus: The Company Line," was airing its final episode for the season. Today's episode, much to the pleasure of the execs and shareholders of the subsidiary, CEO Steven Penrith accepted an invitation for an interview as a cap-off to the series. The bubbly hosts, Sally Fisher and Ryan Cresthaven, we're wearing their million-dollar smiles and the studio audience erupted into cheers as he was introduced. Cordial, blithe small-talk and jokes started them all off, and when he was suitably comfortable the pair began their real questions. "Steven-" Sally began, before almost immediately being cut off. "That's 'Mr Penrith' for my employees, Sally love." The hosts and the audience laughed jovially. "Mr Penrith, industrialist, merchant, entrepreneur, bachelor, and saviour of the human race--what precisely haven't you done?" "Well, a reasonable marriage, for one!" Polite laughter ensued. "There are some black marks on your record, however!" Remarked Ryan in his imported British accent. "Some people say you're xenophobic!" "Untrue, Ryan, mate! These are just silly rumours started up by very silly, soon-to-be-fired employees." "Some say that you refer to our Tassarran customers as "Klingons!" "What an absolute nonsense statement, Ryan! If any of you two are classic science-fiction fans like myself, you'll know that Tassarrans look nothing like Klingons and Grgl look nothing like Maltesers! Why would I make such a callous, spiteful statement? I, in fact, was the one who encouraged commerce between Hephaestus and alien cultures regardless of their outward appearance!" "I uh, sir, he never said grgl looked l-" "And besides, even if I did make some sort of comment of that kind, hey, I'm still a businessman! And my business is the growth and success of our beloved Corporation!" A number of cheers erupted from the studio audience, and the interview moved on to favourite foods, and future plans for Hephaestus. Due to the overstocking of gold, and under the advisement of Phillip the Super-Accountant, the Corporation orders a switch to an electronic currency based on the current gold-reserves they have accumulated until a purported more valuable material is found. Alien currency may be hassle-free swapped with Hephaestus reps for 'HEcredits' at appropriate kiosks at the beginning of the next financial year. 1AP. Upon hearing that the company had access to smaller energy sources already, Steven states that he is pleased to learn such. He also states that if the scientists mouth-off to him again in such a manner, he'll replace them with Grgl. Since they had been wasting a year of company time and saying nothing until that point, Steven assumes that they have plenty of time on their hands. He and the Corporation put in a request for a number of possible laser-weapon designs, with actual construction and testing occurring some time in the next financial year. 1AP With the increasing number of alien visitors, the board-members believe some market research ought to be conducted about the customers they're catering to. Worrying that the purchases of Hephaestus products are due to novelty rather than purpose, they wish to learn about products their new customers use commonly. Tarrassans and grgl are sought out in the Tourist-Trap, and are are offered compensation (In the form of casino chips, free meals at selected venues etc etc) for completing surveys. 2AP Population: Humans, 105,500 Tassareans, 250 Grgl, 500 Military: 8000 Security forces. Volunteering dropped substantially, due to the normalisation of alien presence. Will be adding my own "Accumulation List" as it seems clever. Mining Total: 2AP, Manufacturing Total: 5AP Advertising and Market Research Total: 6AP Science: One disassembled, incomprehensible jump-drive sitting in a corner of some engineer's workshop. 3AP Fleet: One drive-less colony ship being utilised for storage and energy.

Hephaestus Holdings Inc. Best Bargains since 2055! The advent of alien contact had different effects upon the shareholders of Hephaestus. They were confused, yes. But mostly jubilant at the prospect. Who wouldn't want alien customers, clients, or tourists? Not a soul in the company could say for absolute certain, but excitement was abound regardless. Not all people were happy at the thought of alien contact. Far up above skulked CEO Steven Penrith, who just that moment was negotiating a massive tourist-trap construction deal with agriculture mogul Milly Price. It was not going well. "Look, Milly, love, you're the only one with any kind of tourism experience here. All I'm asking for is a bunch of casinos, some knick-knack stores, and restaurants. You can make anything else aside from that! Hell, you could even put together a petting zoo! You've got all the animals for it!" Milly, a stout, mousy-haired woman, was being extremely difficult. Likely on purpose in order to receive a better deal. Steven didn't expect any less from her. He respected her for it--he'd have done the same. "Considering the size of the project, the costs, the labour, the resources, I'd be as mad as a cut snake to accept it. I can't organise a project like this. And you want me to build this resort in the span of a year?! It's outright insanity, Steven!" "Well who the hell else are we going to get?! I didn't think to bring any tourism-inclined shareholders here! Even Phil couldn't convince me, and he wouldn't have tried! We didn't have space in space for such a risky investment! You've actually run a chain of resorts before you went into farms-" "Resorts that YOU bought out from under me!" "Not me personally! My tourism specialist suggested it. What was his name, Phil? Jiles? Jehova?" "James Norris, Mr Penrith." "Oh, that turd. Yeah, he offed himself after the sun announcement. Bloody quitter. Anyway..." "I'm not doing it, Steve." "Alright alright. Look here--I'll give you majority shares in the resort itself. Does that sound good? I'll even give allot you an extra chunk of the profits. And you have full authority over wages, aesthetics, the lot!" This gave Milly pause. "And I won't have it ripped out from under me?" "Who would I even replace you with?" A moment more of consideration and Milly began nodding her head. "Well, I suppose if you're fronting the majority of the bill and I have enough interested shareholders willing to invest... Alright. Okay. I'll do it. But I'll be running it my way, Steven." Steven's rehearsed business-laugh chimed out jovially. "Milly, sweetheart. I knew you'd see reason. This is a fantastic opportunity for Hephaestus, and especially you." With a smile, and a handshake, Milly left the office. Phillip and Steven celebrated with a round of whisky, and office-green golf. They had every reason to be happy. They no longer had to worry about the project falling apart, now that there was a scapegoat in place to take any blame. The conversation between the two was mostly about golf swings, but slowly slithered into the alien thing (as Steven referred to it). "The bloody nerve of that orange-eyed weirdo, Phil." "Sir?" "The nerve! He comes into my office, treats me like some kind of arbiter of humanity, and, without our permission, leaves all sorts of doohickies with us "for our safety"! Even though there "are no threats" nearby." Steven lined up the next putt with a definitive scowl. "And the way he kept going on about 'breeding' was bloody grubby, too. "Oh! We can help boost your numbers with our Klingon genes! I'm a single man. Ha ha ha." ******* lecher." Phillip Narau the Super-Accountant tossed Steven's words around in his head for a moment, before speaking quite carefully. "What's wrong with being seen as the 'arbiter of humanity,' sir?" "Hey? I'm no damn arbiter! I'm not a politician, a diplomat, or king, or anything! I'm a businessman, Phil! My desires begin and end with the accumulation of wealth, and the growth of my company. That's it. The bloody nerve of that Kingon and Malteser coming in here and using all that political-speak. They were wasting this company's time. At least we had a chance at some free advertising..." "Well, sir, you are technically the arbiter of humanity." "Hey?" "Well, we are, for all we know, the only humans left in the universe. We are the last humans, you are our leader, hence, it would be accurate to call you humanity's 'arbiter.' You are the single, guiding will behind the success or extinction of the human race." At this statement, Steve went completely quiet, and his expression turned blank. He rested his putter on his shoulder, and walked towards his enormous office window. He stared out at the buildings being constructed--the expanse of open-cut mines, and the bio-domes that stretched into the distance. He shivered, and rested his forehead against the glass. "Jesus, Phil. Jesus Christ. That's a lot of pressure, mate." Steven loosened his rose-red tie and wiped his forehead. "Oh God. I'm sweating. Am I... nervous? I haven't been nervous since asking Mirabelle Carrowey to the school formal in '73. I am the guiding hand of humanity?" A moment of silence permeated the office, as Phillip clenched his jaw and looked at his shoes, unsure what to say without setting his boss off on some nervous tirade. "Oh ****!" Steve had practically screamed the statement and Phillip practically jumped in place. "Sir?! What is it?!" "I told that Klingon and his mates that I didn't give a **** about who my employees boinked! Bloody hell, Phil! They're gonna come over here and try to fill our human ladies with their Klingon baby-batter!! And ah, presumably their Klingon women doing the same thing with our human men, except in reverse. We might extinct with too much cross-breeding! You know how our people are with monogamy!" Steve raced over to his desk, and tapped his 'secretary' icon. "Inform the board! Emergency meeting, right now!" The gathered members of the board were hastily shuttled into the boardroom at 11:30pm Earth time, much to their chagrin. Synthesised coffee and chocolate was offered around by Steven and Phillip, the latter still in the dark as to what his boss was going to say. When everyone was settled, a slightly nervous Steven spoke quickly in his usual, terse tone. "Alright, folks. We have a problem. Population isn't growing as quick as it should be. We need to hurry up and increase our species annual growth in order to ah..." He trailed off for a moment, and scratched his head. "...cater to the large numbers of alien customers we'll be getting now." Adjusting his tie and clearing his throat, he regained the rest of his composure before the staring down the confused board-members. "We need to breed the next generation of Hephaestus employees quickly. Our shareholders need to start pairing off and doing the 'good, Catholic, horizontal tickle-dance' as soon as possible. And staying with one-another to raise them. Monogamously. How do we encourage this?" A brief moment of sceptical looks shot first towards Steven, and then between fellow board-members, before Milly Price, the new tourism-baron, spoke up. "How about we make all newborn children automatically shareholders in Hephaestus? Give them each ten shares to sell, or keep? That'll make our employees pay attention, and give their children future say in the corporation without having to take from their parents. Plus, a discount on all Hephaestus products for upwards of ten years, with a ten percent price-drop for each child." Numerous angry mutters and disagreements erupted from the board. "And," spoke Phillip over the irate din, "at the same time we invest heavily in baby-related products to make up for the losses. I'm sure we could produce cheap baby-products for a micro-fraction of what they previously cost. In essence, we could come out of this proposition with a reasonable net profit. While doing the right thing for the... company." Now, the board clearly began to consider the proposition. After all, they were chosen for the colony as individuals motivated by loyalty to the company, and their relentless pursuit of profit. Half an hour of deliberations, and the board agreed to a long, flashy advertisement campaign for the next year. "Alright, with that settled, ladies and gents, issue two. I don't think it's good for the ah... corporate image to be totally reliant on unknown aliens for our defence. Visitors need to know that we're capable of watching over their purchases and safety. We're in space, yeah? We need space-guns." The board, once more, looked between each other dubiously. One board-member, Barry, spoke up. "We've never been in the weapons business, Mr Penrith. We're a domestic manufacturer. We left that stuff to Lockheed, Smith & Wessen, and those other fellas up in Europe. I don't think we even have the resources to make bullets." "Well, what do we have that we can weaponize?" A moment of silence permeated the boardroom once more, before Phillip spoke calmly. "Well, we have those mining lasers. We've been manufacturing them wholesale for years, now." Jason, a rotund, mining-magnate, burst out laughing. "Laser-guns? Have you been indulging in classic films, Mr Narau? I manufacture them. Those things aren't guns--the smallest ones can't be lifted by a single miner! Now, it's not an issue of strength, they can bite through rock easily enough. I'm sure it can bite through a hostile target all the same. It's an issue of power. They need lots of juice in order to function efficiently." "Well, clearly we need smaller, more efficient energy sources." "Excuse me?" "I want all of you to gather up every electrical engineer, physicist, and other R&D blokes you've got out here, and plug them into efficient, portable energy research. I don't want us buying a single weapon off of anybody. We're going to do this one alone." "But, Mr Penrith, why?! That sounds needlessly expensive." "Why?" Steve began walking to the door, his meeting now, in his mind, over. He turned towards the board members, and stared at them, stone-faced. "It's just good business." Actions -2AP: Mineral resources and investment are poured into the alien tourist-trap. Casinos, zoos, restaurants, and entertainment complexes are quickly constructed for a purported tourism influx to the young colony. -1AP: A sleek, professional advertisement campaign begins to entice people into getting together and increasing their baby-output (refer to the post for the actual incentives, I don't want to write it out again :/ ) -1AP: Scientists and engineers are pushed into adapting smaller, efficient power-sources for possible use in weapons from current technology. Military 7,500 security forces. Employee increase due to uncertainty over alien presence. Population: 103,500 shareholders

Hephaestus Holdings Inc. Lowest Prices, Always! "What in the name of Johnny Curtain's fuzzy sack do you mean they can't figure it out?!" Steve was not in the best of moods. A fact that Phillip, his Maori super-accountant, knew better than anyone right now. "Mr Penrith, the Head Engineer states that the design of the "Jump drive" is simply too eclectic to reverse-engineer. For all intents and purposes, it shouldn't work. But it just does. Also, they've now broken it. Apparently they can't reconstruct it and make it operate-" "I pay that woman. I bought her labour. Her labour was trash. She's done. Fire her." "She's the only one with the expertise, sir. We c-" "I know, I know, Phil." Steve slumped down into his roomy, leather office chair, and massaged his temples. "Just let me rant. And I take it the scout-vessels were not constructed either?" "Er, yes sir. Without engine schematics, they couldn't design the hull." "Arse. Arse arse. Bloody arse." "Also, there's the other matter of-" "Well, bugger me. Alright. We'll have to make do for now. We'll take the loss on the nose, and now we have to adapt our business model to these new parameters. Take this down, Phil." Glad to move on, Phillip turned on his attention to his dictation-pad. "Clearly, rather than finding customers just yet, it's a far more Hephaestus-friendly to scout for mineral deposits, and improve our production facilities to manufacture better products for future trade-partners. Pre-fab factories are working acceptably, but if we're going to provide quality products for galactic citizens/people/things, we need to improve our production facilities. We will still build the sight-seeing ships, but instead these will be scouting the planets or... er..." "Planetoids, sir?" "Yeah yeah! Planetoids that are currently orbiting our sun. Did we name our sun...?" "No, sir." "We'll have a contest for that. Winner gets a free microwave. Gotta move more of those things. Anyway, we'll scout for resources, and later build space stations in orbit above them. Can we do that...?" "With better facilities we could probably construct small hab-stations, Mr Penrith." "Fan-bloody-tastic." "Sir, may we talk about the ship detected in the outermost parts of the solar-system yet?" "Ship? A bloody ship?! Good god, Phil! Why didn't you say something yesterday?!" "We... we didn't detect it yeste-" "Customers, Phil! Bloody customers! Aw, **** me we aren't prepared! Ah... but it's only one ship..." "Sir?" "Put the factories on alert, and get the products boxed and presentable. Beam ads at those buggers. Prices are slashed, Phil! Slashed to all hell! Especially the microwaves! We need to build customer trust! Profits be damned! For now..." "Would you like me to send in your secretary, sir?" "Yes." All around the main colony, the shareholders were abuzz with excitement over possible customers. Moreso, that they could be weird aliens. First contact would be neat, and selling them stuff would be even neater! But with that, other parties become more concerned with possible threats from this strange spacecraft. Interest in the security forces swells. Actions -2AP: Upgrading and constructing production facilities to produce a wide variety of Hephaestus products. -1AP: Directing advertisements at the phantom spacecraft spotted on the edges of the system. All advertisements describe a slew of fantastic deals, final offers, and slashed prices. All costs are based on gold. -1AP: Continuing the mining expansions around the colony, with zero regard to waste management. Population 100,000 shareholders. 1,800 not-shareholders Military 6500 security forces, after voluntary sign-ups.

HEPHAESTUS HOLDINGS INC. The Company that works for YOU! It all seemed such a short while ago, Steven would recall, when he was first informed of the Earth's doom. Sure, it was scary, but it wasn't insurmountable. He remembered how annoyed he was when almost all of his employees refrained from showing up to work that day. Slackers. If there was one thing Steven hated, it was slackers. Slackers, and thieves. More often than not, they were the same thing. He inherited a company that had supposedly reached it's zenith in 2075. He was barely out of school back then. In just ten years, he had purchased a country. Then three more! His company was poised on the brink of profits greater than any in history! And then that miserable sun decided to rain on his parade by going nova?! The bloody nerve! The nerve of that bastard, ball of gas. And then, instead of making plans, the labour he had purchased with his money decided to take a sickie? Well, joke's on them. They're dead. People with guts and gumption colonise the galaxy. Everyone else burns on dying worlds. "Excuse me, Mr Penrith, sir? The Board is waiting for you." Phillip Narau. The Corp's top economic forecaster. Maori by birth, he found his true passion in accountancy, though one wouldn't know this by the look of him--the score of tribal tattoos and his 6-foot height made him more intimidating than he really was. Sadly, Steven Penrith, CEO of Hephaestus Holdings, was in no mood for being disturbed just yet. "I'm reminiscing, Phil. Start the meeting. Show them the new ad and get their take on it. I want this thing sleek and catchy by the end of the quarter." "Er, yes sir. Would you like me to send in your secretary...?" "I said bugger off, Phil." "Right, right..." Steven turned his attention back out his window... His office had the finest view of Hades' worthless surface in all the colony. He could just barely make out a local bio-dome still being constructed in the far distance. Hopefully they would be growing caffeine plants, or whatever makes coffee. He couldn't stay awake most days. Going from a trillion-dollar industry to a measly space colony had given him organisational whiplash. But this was life, now. Better than being dead, of course. Only slackers died like that... There were positives to this move, of course. Hades had no atmosphere or biosphere, so no hippies were getting antsy about industrial waste (not that there were any hippies here, mind. They were also dead on "failure-central" [Earth]). The planet was absolutely teeming in copper, iron, tin, and every other useful resource imaginable with the added advantage of no trees being in the way. Prefabricated and post-fabricated homes dotted the landscape, connected by underground hab-paths. Even a reasonable amount of gold was separated from the minerals, which supported a viable currency. So with resources, food, habitation, and money secured, what was left? "Trade." Steven Penrith smacked his palm down on the table for emphasis. "We need us some bloody trade." The gathering of board members nodded and mumbled in agreement. All were men and women incorporated into Hephaestus along with their companies. They were given considerable leeway in their dealings, so long as they sent the profits to the right place. "Now, we're working among ourselves just fine here--buying and selling and so-on. But we lack a certain edge that gives the free market the prosperity, stability, and creativity we know and love." Standing up, he stalked around the boardroom and twirled his moustache daintily. "Competition. Competition and foreign markets to expand into. We are sitting on a slew of prefabricated factories, and nothing to produce! We could supply a whole other colony with the labour and resources we're pulling! And our shareholders can only buy so many refrigerators and microwaves..." Arriving at the end of the table, he looked at each of the talented marketeers individually before speaking firmly. "I want half of those idle engineers working on pulling apart those funny warp-drive thingos that got us here, and I want the other half building some smaller, sight-seeing spaceships. By the end of this quarter I want to see some blueprints. By the end of the next quarter, I want to see them being built. By the end of the third, I want to see those ships in orbit, do I make myself clear? Confused and frazzled agreement ensued as the board-members looked between each-other with uncertainty. I don't care if our customers are boggle-eyed, grey-skinned freaks, or Ents from Lord of the ******* Rings. We are going to sell them some reasonably-priced cars and toilet paper. This year, you will be earning your paychecks." Actions -3AP into disassembling, reverse-engineering, and constructing five interstellar drives and scouting vessels. -1AP into expanding mining networks around the colony with zero regard to waste-management. Population 100,000 shareholders. 4,000 security personnel 1 colony ship, mostly being used for storage and power.

Username: Catostrophy Skype: (Pm if you want.) I want to PM it. Ideas and Suggestions?: This game requires the invisible hand of the free market. Colony Name: Hephaestus Holdings Incorporated First Planet Type: Lifeless, barren rock. History: (Assuming it's a bit of a custom nation.) Starting out as a small, Australian manufacturer in the mid 2050s, Hephaestus Holdings saw unprecedented growth throughout the following decades. Branching out, buying up, and squeezing competitors away in almost every industry left it the de-facto supplier of practically all Australia's domestic needs and wants. After being obliged to purchase the Australian government in the late 2080s, it saw itself expand into the lucrative international market. Mergers with New Zealand, Micronesia, and New Guinea expanded Hephaestus' customer base and spread its influence liberally throughout the Pacific region. And then came the announcement about the sun. At first there was misery--the world being shrivelled by Sol, the human race going extinct, and the free market ending was all too much for some. But to the CEOs and majority shareholders, Hephaestus was in the best possible position to save the human race. At least, the members of the human race who were shareholders and CEOs of Hephaestus Holdings Inc. So began the "Get off Earth or Your Money Back!" advertisement campaign, selling shares in colony ships and stellar engine manufacturers. The colony ship named "Gambit's Profit" was produced in record time, and colonists were chosen via a inter-corporate lottery (though in truth the colonists had been chosen beforehand. The lottery made for better PR). The ship reached into the vast cosmos, and with its clunky fusion engines it made a bee-line for the only habitable planet the Corporation knew of. The planet was, however, less habitable than projected. A barren, lifeless rock in a sea of other barren, lifeless rocks that happened to be in the habitable zone of the star it orbited. Unfortunate, but not totally unexpected. To reassure their shareholder-colonists, they began a brief advertisement campaign "Biosphere? Why not GLASS sphere?" Utilising the surprisingly rich mineral wealth of Hades (the name chosen for the planet), habitation and agriculture biodomes were quickly produced and the people were contented with their air-conditioned domiciles, though somewhat bored and idle. If only they could find some customers... Map location: (Remember, fill a square and send it to me privately.) Alrighty.

((Small tip; I noticed that there isn't any information as to why those races are unholy. You should probably add details!))

Radical.

As a roleplaying server that accommodates just about every popular fantasy trope (not a negative point, mind), players always want to play something familiar-be it magical elves, lords and knights, beer-swilling dwarves or evil necromancers. A vampire inspires a very specific image that tends to be homogenous across most fantasy settings. Drink blood, hate sunlight, be immortal, the dark and twisted children of the twilight etc. This image comes from the name vampire rather than what it does. You don't gain that image from a parasite. A traditional vampire-type creature would be well suited in LotC. Perhaps not this one, though.

You can enchant objects to emit light. Not as Gandalf-y, but it works.