Illogical Jim

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Sorry for my relative inactivity, foks- it's been a crazy few days.

I hope to have another post up either tonight or sometime early tomorrow evening (EST).

@KaiserElectric

An owner/employee of another business on the station would certainly be an interesting counterpoint to the group thus far, which is mostly higher ranking station crew.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

O'Brien was an old hand at tending bar, and managed to have the house pretty well set up before the evening crowd started to mosey in. The chairs were off the tables, the jukebox was playing a jaunty old tune, and the glassware had just been double-checked before the first few customers started to arrive.

Enter Atlas

Upon passing into the lounge Atlas would notice, if she chanced to look back at the entrance she had just traversed, a large portrait of the man for whom the establishment was named: Isaac Asimov, an elderly human in old-fashioned clothes with exceptional sideburns.

The bar was manned by a round, middle-aged human sporting a smart vest and a thin mustache, who was presently pouring a beer for a man who looked suspiciously like a vagrant with a top hat made of some shiny material (it may have been aluminum foil) resting squarely at the crown of his head.

The barman looked up, realizing the presence of an unfamiliar face. He gave a jovial wave before calling out to her.

“Welcome to the Asimov, miss! How about a dark and stormy? They're on special this evening.”

His voice carried, but could not properly be called a yell. It was almost like an unusually loud stage whisper. His accent was rather unusual, being difficult to place. One might imagine he was an American attempting to affect an Irish brogue.

Enter Dr. Bradford

O'Brien pours a beer for the psychiatrist, nodding genially at the fellow. The fella didn't specify which kind of beer he wanted, so he ended up with some kind of wheat beer called Sprachbund.

“This is a good'n. Here for a visit or are you staying awhile, stranger?”

Enter Traz

As the Jekult sat down the barman smirked. The officer had not been too long aboard Tsiolkovsky, but had quickly become a welcome regular at the Asimov.

“Sure thing, Officer.” he began, picking up a glass and angling it under the tap while pulling the handle with his off-hand.

“I'm just glad you're here for a drink and not to shut me down for the illegal card games I run in the back.”

O'Brien chuckled softly, setting the now-filled glass of whatever-that-stuff-was-anyway in front of the security officer.

“So how fares the thin blue line, Scales? Arrest any hooligans today?”

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

@SuperTacticalDerp

Arnold Kent is accepted- welcome to Tsiolkovsky Station's new Mining Authority Foreman!

@greywolf375

At your leisure of course, good sir.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

@Johnnytrash@AtlasRedfox@User@Windicator@Lord Coake

Okay, I finally got that IC post up- though it's a little thinner than I'd like.

Everyone whose CS's have been approved can go ahead and post at their leisure.

Those who haven't finished/submitted them, by all means do!

A brief word if I might about the bar, though:

The name of the RP is 'Cheers in Space,' and naturally the Asimov Lounge is supposed to play a pivotal role in the story. But it isn't the only place on the station, and I have absolutely no qualms about plot occurring anywhere aboard. Even though Cheers managed to make it through its first season without any action occurring outside the bar doesn't mean we have to go so far as that.

It would be the most probable place for the story to open, though- and so that's where I went with it.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Tsiolkovsky Station
Civilian Deck
"Main Street"

An almost eerie calm had settled over the Civilian Deck of Tsiolkovsky Station. The activities of the evening had for the most part yet to commence. But they surely would. The only thing of particular note to be seen was a pudgy, middle-aged man strolled casually across the Promenade, his feet echoing hollowly across the corridor. He passed 'Town Square'- a glorified rest area with a fountain, some benches, and a few old-fashioned analog clocks telling the local time at various locations. New York City on Earth, Eos Central on Mars, and a few others. The man noted the local time as he passed, just a few minutes shy of seven. He began walking a little faster.

The man was Dan O'Brien, in case you were wondering. And he was the proprietor of the Asimov Lounge, the greatest (and only) proper saloon on station. Admittedly, the Asteroid Hotel had a bar as well, but it was rather too fanciful- not to mention expensive- for the typical visitor. The Asimov's clientele cut a clean slice across several social classes, but the better part of it was made up of roughneck miners and mercenaries.

But that was neither here nor there. The Asimov Lounge was about due to open, and it couldn't very well do that without its bartender. Not to mention its proprietor and sole employee- all of whom were O'Brien himself.

He came finally to a large door, a sign over which read 'The Asimov Lounge,' and in smaller letter beneath, 'Est. 2391.' The barman passed his ID card in front of the scanner attached to the door, unlocking it. Stepping in and flipping on the lights, he beheld his favorite sight in the Galaxy.

The Asimov was a fairly large place, with a large, old style wooden bar making a loop toward the center of taproom. The walls, which were designed to mimic ancient Earth brickwork, were decorated with all manner of curios and artifacts. Here a 'real' deckplate from the UTS Sartre, there some historical mining tools, et cetera. Beyond the bar itself were clusters of tables and chairs, capable of seating a sizable crowd. A few doors to one side led to a storage room, a unisex lavatory, and to a couple of private rooms respectively.

And in the farther corner from the door, near the viewports (which offered a stunning starscape, by the way) were the pride of the establishment: A jukebox and an honest-to-God real pool table with actual balls. Most such things operated by means of a complex holographic projector, but not this one.

O'Brien took a few seconds, as was his custom, to proudly survey his domain before beginning to prepare for what would surely be an exciting evening.

Oh yes, it would be a fine evening indeed.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Alrighty, I'd say we're pretty much ready for an IC post. I'll try to have one up by tomorrow evening.

All interested parties who have not submitted character sheets, or those that have not finished them, please do so at your leisure before posting therein. No big rush, of course.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

If it's agreeable, I would like to make the Chief Medical Officer

@greywolf375

I don't see why not.

@Lord Coake

Traz is accepted. Welcome to the Security section!

@Windicator

Maksimilian is also accepted- and I don't care whether you take mining or security. Either one would be perfectly acceptable, so it's up to you.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Love the intro! Just brilliant

Going to get to work on a character :D

@AtlasRedfox

Thank you very much, I'm glad you liked it.

And Atlas is tentatively approved and accepted to the ranks of Tsiolkovsky Station's most illustrious crew. Welcome aboard, Quartermaster!

Edit: Just let me know when you're finished, so I can read it over again and make sure we're all square.

Stellar Uprising

So.. No one's waiting on me to post, right?

I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the one gumming up the works.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

@Johnnytrash

Brent checks out fine. Can't say I figured on the station needing a psychiatrist.

Might make things interesting, though.