Welcome to the universe, where we all live in the galaxy called The Tresymatra, a trio of arms swirling around the center.

Due to the size of the galaxy and the rarity of spacefaring civilizations among its trillion stars, trade-routes and travel tracks reach across vast stretches of the arms, some spanning tens of thousands of light-years without anything but the occasional communications-relay. Those that have cause to venture on such voyages are either merchants, dignitaries, emmigrants or outright weirdos. And armies of course.
So too is the case of the refitted cruiser;
now primarily transporting refined materials and pioneering settlers along its routes.

You have all been passengers or crew on the Cloudseeker, and most of you have just experienced a quite brutal awakening.
Roused from cryogenic suspension, the ship in pandemonium, everyone rushing to reach one of the escape pods before the Cloudseeker breach the atmosphere of an unforseen planet in its path. Having had no warning of this new obstacle, the warning sirens scream of the imminent crash. You just barely make it to one of the escape pods.
At least you won't crash along with the Cloudseeker, you'll crash apart from it.

A few hours later, you wake up to find your pod survived the crash, and after wrangling the hatch you emerge on an alien world.
Welcome to Chralmede!