Dinh AaronMk

All your Communiques Belong to Us

The governing council of the Illuminati Guild would also like to add there are certain aficionados on this site whom you should not talk ill about because the room totally does not go quiet when he or she enters.

All your Communiques Belong to Us

While you retain the right to discuss anything you want to anyone you will, I wish to make it known to the mass public that the authorities of the Illuminati Guild has legislated and passed binding rules that anything you say to anyone about the Illuminati Guild can and will be held against you by the cat aficionados of the Illuminati Guild. We wish to reassure you that we are not removing your right to speech, but that it might be used to reinforce scorn for you. If you feel you have been wronged, you may appeal to the proper authorities though, they may chose to ignore you.

Thank you, and have a great day.

Warriors Academy: First Grade

Are staff options available?

Dark Matters (Open)

Starship Liberty

Stockpile POSADA

The first indication of the approaching stockpile was the glistening light far in the distance. It began dim, little more than a dust mote illuminated by the light of the millions of stars around it and alien sun it orbited, a soft blue bulb dangling in the ethereal void. But as the Starship drew nearer, passing frigid gas giants and their frozen still moons the stockpile grew more prominent against the dark bands of light and shadow in the cloud that enveloped the blue star. Here and there asteroids shimmering with crystalline sheets of ice and raw minerals passed the windows of the Starship Liberty and pruning over their surface like polite bees swarms of small robotic drones carrying away in a thin thread the material they farmed away slowly.

Seated at a small cafe at the outermost edge of one of Liberty's mid-decks Marcus Xhu watched as a held a hot chocolate in his hands as the mote in the distance grew larger with each passing moment. He attempted to calculate the starship's speed, he knew Posada's size well by heart. He had been born there. At a diameter of just shy of 1,500 miles, roughly 2,400 kilometers it was an impressive planetoid of artificial design. Adhoc, built over time, layered over and over as a sphere and spiked with thousands of landing towers bristling its outer surface and hundreds of larger decks that orbited it, ready to take on passengers and material to and from the stockpile. It hardly needed the star it orbited, but it was unlikely it could do anything if much was on the outside.

As the faint mote moved across the window, its orientation in its frame changing with the orientation of Liberty to it, and where Marcus was within its circling it grew larger. The faint glow it emanated changing in character, regions of light and dark becoming more defined as it became like the old moon in old Earth's sky and the antenna that shot off of it like the spurs on a sea mine becoming more pronounced. The vast formless regions that glowed across it became more defined, turning into defined outlines, structures, individual specks of light across a darkened surface. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Sal said. The two had been seated next to each other in silence, simply watching as Liberty drew near to Posada. Her thick curly hair tied into a bun behind her head, making her face look thinner without it all framing her head. She raised a coffee to her lips and drank as the flashing lights covering Posada flashed and glistened. Where the blue light of the alien star touched the surface the presence of large defensive guns glistened. As well as in silhouette the numerous large platforms adrift in the celestial medium waiting to connect with the voyaging space craft. Many others had found a partner, and the numerous forms and silhouettes of docked starships loomed between them and Posada.

“Approaching Posada Landing 10-105.” a voice said over the intercom, “Cutting axial rotation in fifteen minutes. Please pack loose items into an enclosed space and finish your meals or drinks.”

Marcus and Sal looked at each other, and quickly downed their drinks. “I don't know about you but I have everything packed away.” Sal commented, handing over her cup to a passing waiter.

“You always do.” said Marcus.

“You're not going to get hurt by anything in your quarters, are you?” Sal asked, concerned.

“I should be fine. It's not like a table becomes any more dangerous if it's not locked down. We'll be in zero gravity.”

They remained seated, watching as Liberty came into orbit around Posada. The minutes passed by. Muffled and distant, a soft clang rang through the hull of the Liberty and there was a tactile jolt under them. The motors that kept the starship turning had been cut off, and the decks continued to spin. But slowly. As time continued to pass there came a clear sensation of weightlessness throughout. At their seats Marcus and Sal felt as the pressure on the seat underneath lessened. As it did so, they felt the gradual momentum of the once moving room weigh gently on them and they began to lean to the side. As the room lost its gravity, this was translated into a floating sensation and then they were airborne. Sal giggled uncomfortably as she stuffed her shirt down her pants. The bun of her hair lifted and bobbed with each movement. And it was over, the decks finally stopped.

“Docking procedures initiating.” the intercom spoke again as the cessation of the starship's movement was confirmed.

“We should get ready.” Sal said, reaching about for something to grab onto and move herself along. Others were doing likewise as the people who manned the small cafe attempted to collect wayward garbage.

Passing through the ship, weightless with the others was a controlled chaos. The passengers, its crew all knew what was happening, and orderly they assembled themselves without orders to the sides and made their respective ways to where they needed to be. Like traffic along a terrestrial road, the halls became lanes of separate directions on each wall. In this situation, with so many, there need not be but little direct confrontation to move and control the crowds.

That which were not controlled were the small animals that lived aboard, the birds and the like which soon found themselves moving with weightless ease. A flap of the wing brought them to the discovery of the deregulated resistance brought by little gravity and they'd drift off with naught but air resistance to slow them. At a point, they would clutch for the plants and chirp anxiously as everything else moved around them.

Over the loud speakers a voice issued updates on the current procedure. Liberty was in line. Liberty was being served. The service ferry was locked and awaiting passengers. At this update Marcus and Sal were on their way to engineering with a stream of others down the mighty and wide center axis. The long chamber echoed with the many thousands of voices. In the winding engineering halls, much more so. But aboard the ferry, seats were found and the vehicle began to fill. As it reached capacity, and the request was granted, it detached from Liberty's side and headed down to the spires of Posada below.

Landing with a thud, the ferry came to settle at one of the spires. Frilled with numerous platforms, the spire was home to many ferries like it. And many options. Procedures went under way. The ferry was locked down, a bridge extended, and everything re-pressurized to normal. At the the chime of an alarm, and the flash of a blue light everything was go, and unstrapping themselves from the sea of their space bus everyone was released from their seats and went to the doors.

Unlike the Starship Liberty, gravity in Posada was produced centrally. A sensation Marcus was quick to feel as they descended the landing spire in an elevator. Long windows passed regularly by, he watched as they went down through the miles. The outside universe speedily passing, unnervingly slow. But as the whole carriage came lower and lower the outer structures of Posada began to flower and bloom upwards, the thickly cabled antennas. The outward facing forests of solar cells. The automated hives of the billions of drones delivering in raw material to be refined into usable industrial honey: steel, titanium, gold, and much more.

The windows went dark as the elevator passed through the metal crust of Posada, and for a while there was nothing but the eerily constant glow of the lighting. And then with a flash it broke through, and with a blinding brilliance the world lit up and they were drifting down into an ethereal, enclosed world enveloped by a silver white sky. They could feel the heat of the sky lamps, the soft UV warmth, the infrared, that made for a calibrated environment. Nothing was too hot, and nothing was too cold. The eyes, needing to adjust were blind for a moment as everything came into focus. Far below a landscape appeared, miniature as if a landscape of toys. But all the same alive. Towering ware house structures, massive factories. But large open parks, clusters of homes and communities like villages dotted the landscape like a picturesque story retelling of an Earth that was not.

A sonorous and relieved sigh came over the cabin as the tension that had existed coming down out of space relieved itself and they all began to chatter happily. Many pushed themselves to the side where they could watch their progress to the surface. Distantly, herds of horses and animals move about grazing. On roads cars and trolleys rolled by as heavier trains worked along gentle slopping hillsides between warehouse and manufacturing depots.

“How does this place work?” someone asked, their voice high in excitement. They had clearly never been to Posada.

“On nuclear energy!” someone exclaimed, laughing, “They have a whole core at the heart, a massive one. So much so it produces enough gravity to be like a planet in its own right. Almost a star in its output. A Super Heavy Reactor.”

One of three, Marcus knew. He leaned relaxed against the glass and watched the familiar landscape of Posada draw closer. It was a fairly consistent world. Pressed flat enough to be pleasant, but rolling enough to still be interesting. The only thing that marred it were the cables.

Here and there hanging down like thick vines ran immense lengths of cables as wide as a house. Their charcoal black surface matte against the lights that shone against them. They ran into the ground, where they connected to broad silver couplings and disappeared into the depths below. They were blackened beanstalks, coursing with energy fed to the outer shell. They were so large it was hard to tell as well: were they supports to keep the outside from falling in, or to keep the two independent platforms from drifting apart?

The elevator stopped. A gentle shake rocked through the cabin and the unready swayed unsteadily as they looked up and about from whatever they were doing. The cabin, a great round chamber sat silent for a moment before its doors slid open and everyone could leave. The fresh air was immediate, as were the sounds. The song of birds and the gentle rush of the wind. The passing hum of automobiles and the distant cry of a train. Hauntingly, it recalled memories of a world gone. Even to Marcus, who had grown up here, seen other worlds and other cities, and known nothing of Earth but was written and artificially constructed in the apparitions of simulation felt the unsettled sensation in his gut, in his heart, of a memory not remembered.

“So, should we find them?” Sal asked as they stepped out, away from the elevators. They stood in the middle of a square. Already the newcomers were mixing in with the locals and the crowd was dispersing and mingling. Soon it would be unrecognizable as the atomic parts mixed with the atmospheric noise of the Posada community, “Or should we get a drink?”

Marcus had on him a small thumb drive with the compiled data and a mirror of the hard-drive of the beacon they had found. On Posada there were many who could decrypt it all and translate it into something usable. In the intervening days the navigator's inner files had been decrypted, but the data wasn't in an unrecognizable format. The who, what, or where it had come from was hidden away in an added layer of abstract data. As was the story of the beacon itself, all of which was beyond the independent or loosely collective abilities of Liberty's analysts. Beyond finding or organizing an adventure to seek out the origin, there were those who would finalize the evidence. And who might identify the first steps.

“Or perhaps you could go see your parents.” Sal said with a smile.

Marcus laughed weakly and kicked the ground with his shoe, “They can wait.” he laughed, “Besides, I don't know how much a difference in time we're on now. I don't want to spoil anything.”

Sal nodded, smiling concerning. It wasn't an unusual concern. “Alright, you take the lead then.”

Deer spam

Tasty

@Burning Kitty

Aren't they all though?

OK Spam, how is it going to be:

The shitposts of the past do not matter for now is the shitpost of the present, or we need to learn from and emulate the shitposts of the past.

Deer spam

what sort of deer would spam be

Dear spam

would you kindly

Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets (Still Recruiting)

@Dinh AaronMkI think it just means we should expect Napoleonic times or something. Though admittedly the reason why rifled guns and cannons didn't spread is due to the pressures of that war and then the recovery from its devastation.

@Willy Vereb

It would much more due to industrialization than war itself. Much of Europe wasn't up to the sort of speed as England was into early automation, and to that point not in all fields. Much of the early industrial production was oriented to the textile industry as was the case in the United States, particularly the north in and around New England; more so Britain since textiles like lenin and wool was a major historical export vs anyone else, except southern France where since the Revolution local Silk production in and around Lyon had been industrialized. Any widespread use of rifling would have been limited by the capacity to produce it, and as you and I both said to some capacity: the relative conservatism of the military command at the time (Napoleon resisting rifled weapons as much as the American command on either side resisting repeating weapons on account of the command being far more familiar with smooth-bore line infantry combat).

@Dinh AaronMk I welcome anyone's suggestions and feedback, so thank you.

I am not at all suggesting that the 19th Century was not pivotal in the development of firearms, far from it in fact! If I was setting this RP in various points throughout the Century then I would of course adapt the available technology to fit. But this is an RP set in 1799, which is a point I do express.

With that in mind, then the idea of the musket being the primary firearm is far from a speculation, it is almost a certainty. Even during the Battle of Waterloo, 16 years after the starting date of this RP, rifles were still an uncommon armament. Only around 4000 were present on the English side, and practically none on the French side due to Napoleon's disdain of them, and his recalling of the experimental rifles in 1807.

I appreciate your feedback, but I can't help but feel you did not fully read the entire post, as you appear to have missed the limited beginning date of 1799. And for future reference, I don't particularly appreciate the apparent assumption of my ignorance. I wouldn't be undertaking running an RP if I hadn't done my research for it. But thank you nonetheless. I will read over the post again, in case I am at fault for not making the point clear.

@Romero

Really, if what you want is a more Napoleonic situation with all the trappings and none of the worry of calculating however much more damage can be done by taking a brigade of rifles and having them shoot at another brigade at rifles at practical point-blank range for said rifles, then it would be far easier and far more honest to just call it an 18th century RP than a 19th century RP given how the Napoleonic Wars were much more along that tradition then and the 19th in the broadest sense. Calling something 19th century calls to mind so much of what is that tried and tired trope of Steam punk and the later definitive acts of the what-is Victorian period.

Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets (Still Recruiting)

3) On that note, this role-play is firmly rooted in early 19th century technology. Yes there are guns, but they are basic muskets, so don't expect to be sharpshooting across the battlefield. There's no magic, and the only race your nation can be is human. Any further questions, just ask!

I'm not sure if you know this or not but the 19th century was a pretty major period in fire arms development. Even in the early 19th century rifled barrels existed establishing the dual classification of muskets (smooth bore) and rifles (rifled barrels) with the later providing considerable advantages of range over the classical smooth bore muskets in the first stage of the 1800's.

By the mid-1800's rifled barrels and more precise fire-arms became more in vogue with fully rifled muskets or full rifles being in use on the battlefield of the American Civil War. In fact a major factor to the high death toll in the Civil War was the usage of far more modern weapons being deployed in a much more Napoleonic methodology, tight formations shoulder-to-shoulder firing in blocks against the enemy two or three times in anytime between a minute or five minutes before charging in (in this case, not because they couldn't fire faster but because every soldier was issued a limited number of shot and ball they couldn't afford to fire as fast as possible as long as possible, 20-something shots per-person does not allow that).

Repeating rifles too saw deployment in the American Civil War, again the mid 19th century allowing for rapid fire and the benefit of rifles barrels. While of course in the historical context they were in they may not have seen wide-spread use like the Gatling Gun from the general conservatism of the military command they were a present and viable option with the terrifying benefit of rapid fire and incredible accuracy; early Gatling Guns for instance were known to be as accurate as any contemporary rifle of the time (as by design, Dr. Gatling hoped a single Gatling Gun would do the work of an entire battalion on a crew of two and thus reduce an army's size; this of course went the other way).

This is all in the period wooden hull ships would be in vogue and motor-driven ships would be at their earliest stage. Because also in the "19th Century" time-period you have the widespread evolution out of the sailing ship and into the engine-driven steel-hull ship and the industrial spread of rifled barrels. The musket was abandoned in the later part of the 19th century and in the life-time of a single person the entire period has gone from packing powder and bullets down a barrel with a ramrod to cartridges containing all the means to fire a bullet; the bullet itself, powder or propellant, firing cap. that can be fired with the twitch of a hand on a lever to reload a new bullet into the firing chamber or opening the chamber itself to load a new bullet into it and with unparalleled accuracy. Some features of Napoleonic warfare remained, but the lines of battle would be far more spread out. Meanwhile on the sea the steel-hulled ships would be so resistant to their own guns the whole practice of naval warfare returned to just smashing shit.

I think you're interpreting a fairly dynamic period of technological change as a fairly stagnant period with a single prominent firearm; the old musket with no accuracy. This is opposed to an earlier period and probably a far more accurate time for what you may want: the 18th century, or the 1700s.