Classic Traveller Skill System for NPCs

 I am not thrilled by the rule in Book 3 which states "Weapon skill is generally considered to be 1 for all encountered persons." The reason is it contradicts, if not by the letter, but spirit of the game, are the rules for Untrained Weapon Usage. Basically any character untrained in a weapons use is at a -5 penalty. But who are these untrained individuals? Yes, there are the rules surrounding Routine Encounters, but they merely suggest these NPCs need no statistics. They perform a function in the course of play and are usually ignored by the PCs. The amount of words used indicate it is an important distinction, trained/untrained use, seems out of place if all PCs have level zero in weapon skills, and unknown, unimportant NPCs have a skill of 1 with a weapon (if they have one). I ask again, who is this untrained penalty for?

Here is what I have decided to do. Refer to the Additional Weapons Table in the Encounter chapter of Book 3 to randomly determine skill, if any, an NPC has with the weapons in their hand. You use the Additional Weapons Table to determine if one of the NPCs in a group is "armed extraordinarily." Which I interpret as having more than one weapon. Kind of an involved table for such a simple decision. Instead, I will use the table to find out if any of the NPCs are untrained, have zero level, or skill level 1 in their weapon, or more! 

The way you use the table is to roll on the first column. If you get a result you stop. If no result you make another roll. Again, the same happens. Get a result you are done. If not make a final roll on the  third and final column. Instead of weapons I will interpret results as indicated skill level with weapon. On the first roll there is a 1-2 chance of the NPC (or group, for that matter) being untrained. Therefore incurring the -5 untrained penalty. Second roll there is a 1-3 chance the NPC is zero skill level, no minus or bonus. Third roll there is a 1-5 chance the NPC has the usual skill level 1. Still no result? Well than I guess the PCs have run into a stranger with a skill level 2 in their weapon! 

SciFi Setting Size Comparison

 I finally got around to sizing up the Space Opera official universe and the Traveller official universe to see how they compared size-wise to each other. First I need to figure out how big a Traveller Subsector is and compare that to a Space Opera Star Sector, these being the basic unit of measurement for their respective maps of known space.

The Star Sector for SO is easy to figure out, a 200 ly x 200 ly x 200 ly cube of space (ly = light year). Here is a picture of the Star Sector map for The Confederate Systems Alliance. 

There is no superimposed hex grid over the sector map, only grid locations indicated by letters and numbers coded on the top and side of the map. Much like a street map. For example, Doug's Groceries is in grid BB04. Everything is plotted on an x/y/z axis, with the Star Sector's Primary as the 0/0/0 point. The maps are created to scale, 1 cm = 10 ly. To find your straight-line distance between planetary systems you plug in your values into your formula for a right triangle.  For example, Janus to Lilith is 128 ly apart.

Classic Traveller (CT) on the other hand, measures distances by the parsec. A parsec is 3.26 ly. The traditional Subsector map is laid out on a hex map 10 x 8. So 32.6 ly x 26.08 ly. There are no values for up or down, the map is a 2-dimensional representation. The distance between two planetary systems is determined by the number of hexes needed to cross to get there. Therefore if a system is three hexes away that system is 9.78 ly away.

It is clear already the SO universe is much larger than the CTU (Classic Traveller Universe). But how much bigger? CT does offer us another map scale, the Sector. A Sector is made up of 16 Subsectors arranged in a 4x4 grid. 130 ly x 104.32 ly. Here is the well-known map of the Third Imperium by Sector.  

This map is arranged 8 Sectors x 16 Sectors, which, if using the Sector values established above yields 1,040 ly x 1,669.12 ly for known space in the CTU.

Here is a similar map for SO;

These are 200 ly x 200 ly cubes so sizing it up against the CTU should be a snap. 5.2 cubes x 8.34 cubes. It looks like to me the Space Opera universe is about 6 times the size of Traveller!  

Classic Traveller AAR, part two (Saars storyline)

This is a continuation of the serialized after action report from my last live game session, playing Classic Traveller in my OTU, The Shattered Worlds campaign.

Stab pulled out a multi-tool containing a monofilament blade and the battery powered saw sliced through the duralloy fencing with a wave of his hand. He peeled back the fence from one side of the cut and stood back. Dab stepped through, weapon up, and posted up in a crouch several meters onto the grounds. Captain Green slipped through followed by Saars. Stab joined the troupe.

"You two go right, Saars and myself go left. Assess whether we got threats from each of these grow houses. We meet up in front of the control tower at the south end. Comms open, count off your buildings." Green gave his orders clearly without letting his voice carry. The rain had let up and more of the grounds could be seen through the lightening haze. Rumbles of the next weather system could be heard above black swollen rain clouds. The squad broke up and they made quick splashing sounds as they trotted through the mud. 

Green and Saars had just passed the second of the three long buildings on their side of the complex when Dab's voice crackled over the coms.  

"We've got the door on the west side open. No lights or power, all quiet."

"Post up, we'll come to you. We are going to cross straight over just south of you between building two and three." Green and Saars splashed their way across the grounds and caught up to Dab and Stab who were up against the wall, one on either side of the open door. Captain Green popped on the light attached to his carbine and shined it through the open door into the dark building's interior. Without a word he slipped inside, Dab right on his heels. Green gave the all clear and the other two men entered as well.

It was a typical farm outbuilding. There were six slug pools spaced evenly on the floor of the thirty meter long building. Normally the circulating equipment would be running, churning up the brown slop and feeding nutrients into the tub full of wriggling Skalvil mud-slugs. But the machines were off. Green and Dab were scanning the surface of the first large grow tub with their gun-mounted lights. 

"What the hell?" Dab stated flatly. The slug tubs were not all that deep. A meter or so of organic brown slop. This made it easy to see the fermenting pool of compost was jammed with eight or more naked bodies. All appeared dead. They had been soaking in the slime for more than a week, if the bloated bodies and loose, rotting skin were any indication. 

"Pull them out. I want to look at them." Green ordered his men. Saars looked on as the dead were pulled from the mud and laid like wet lumps onto the concrete floor of the building. Non-descript, men and women. Four of each. No obvious signs of death. No bullet wounds, cuts or blunt trauma. 

"I've seen that mark before," Saars says. He points to one the deceased's chest. A curious symbol is carved into the soggy flesh. Like a stylized lower-case "n" with three circles clustered within the upside down arms of the n. The terrorists which we killed at Oh-Rif. They all had this same symbol carved on their chest. And recently, like these poor bastards. This definitely ties the theft of the dead scout from the water plant to these slug farmers."

"Stab, scrape a skin sample off a couple of these stiffs. I want Collice's lab rats to test for poison and possible psycho-actives." Green ordered. "Dab, looks like your guess on cult looniness is close to the mark."

"What do you expect, living out on the wastes making your own clean water and clean air? Sooner or later something breaks down under corrosion and everyone starts huffing fumes and shooting their neighbors." Dab finished his statement with a quick scan of the ceiling with his light. 

"Okay, I've recorded some images." Saars put the pocket vid device back in his coat. "We should get into the control tower. If anyone is still alive around here they will be there. Or below in the living quarters."

Classic Traveller After Action Report

A "regular" in my mostly on ice Classic Traveller campaign was up for continuing his adventures last week and I was stoked to get to have more action "under the dome" on the planet Skalvil. We scrounged up a new player to join him, and after he printed his auto-generated Traveller character (ex-army) we got cracking. This is a continuation of Saars adventures. He was on the first adventure with three other players. They were cops and Saars was their contract computer hacker. After that first session Saars parted ways with his cop friends and has continued the starting adventure thread on his own. He has a current patron, the owner of a successful racing family. Very wealthy. Saars is trying to help him figure out what is wrong with his son. This means getting a hold of the corpse of a scout which has been kidnapped by colonists living on the Skalvil Wastes...

When Saars finished his debrief he waited for Collice to reply, rattling his ice around in his glass. He backed the last of his drink and sat back, waiting.

"I would like to send in a recovery team. If we have been able to locate the likely location of the stolen corpse this fast then OHRIF won't be far behind." Collice announced after completing his thoughtful pause. I have a team of three specialists ready to go. Very good at what they do. I would like you to lead them in. You'll be well-paid of course."

"What does 'well paid' amount to, exactly?" Collice smiled and stated a number which Saars definitely considered meeting the criteria for well paid. 

"I'm sure your comms and computer skills are going to be necessary.. Your crew will handle anything dirty so hopefully you won't have to shoot at people. They also have strict orders not to let you get killed. Deal?"

Saars nodded. "We'll need another grav vehicle. The last one is trashed by plowing through a Wempeer flock. It will need some bodywork before you send it up again."

Saars assault team was made up by a Captain Green and "spiff-jacked" pair of brothers, Stab and Dab. You could tell by their comm units being implanted in their neck. These would be feeding someone on Collice's end the pair's vital signs, live video, tracking beacon, etc. All wore high-end tactical gear (lacking any kind of insignia, of course), auto rifles built to withstand Skalvil's constant acid rain, sensing equipment, targeting shells, "air-eaters", and plenty of clips of armor piercing rounds. Green was a dry, somber man who served in the Inner Systems. Straight army. Dab and Stab apparently served under Green and followed him to the Outer Frontier in search of high paying merc jobs.

Dab did all the talking. To Green. Stab didn't say jack. Phlegmatic and sneering, the most noise Stab would make was a slight clucking sound in the back of his throat. Off and on. He looked bored to be there. Dab went down preferred landing and approach vectors with Green one more time and got into the new grav vehicle. Stab stored a bag of rifles and assorted small arms in the rear hatch. The grav unit was another high performance, all terrain jeep fitted out to tackle the cracked and splintering canyons of the Skalvil Wastes and not break down under the strain of the acid rain storms which were constant on this planet. Saars could tell it was clad in heavier armor. He stuck his auto-mag in his jacket pocket and climbed in next to Green, who was driving.

The garage doors sealed, the roof peeled back, and the Grav lifted into the purple, cloud-choked sky. The lights of Kazawan City were quickly lost behind a screen of drizzle. The heads-up 3D diagram gave a luminous depiction of the ground they were flying over. Green and red lines displayed the canyons, elevations and weather patterns on the windshield. The purple haze and mist ate up the arc lights. Green flew fast and steady. 

"Their is a decent sized bluff crowding the farm from the north. Land on the backside of that." Saars instructed. "This rig have good jamming equipment?" 

"Please," Green replied, not taking his eyes off the wet, purple slop they sailed through. "Tell me something about these slug farmers." he asked. 

"Not much to tell. The place has been a low output farm for ten years, maybe. The only anomaly I can find is they stopped doing business a month ago. Stopped shipping protein, turned back regular suppliers. I mean, it isn't anything they can't do, but hard to make a living if you aren't selling anything. Besides, these places have a clan size of 15-30 people. How much slug protean does a farm family need?"

"They've gone looney. Someone licked the wrong slug. We are going to find a colony of tripping sub-surface farmers. I sure hope I don't have to shoot one of these farmer raving and waving plasma cutters on a three-day burner." said Green shaking his head. Dab and Stab fingered and inspected their carbines again and again. The grav unit had to endure a sudden acid rain surge. It burnt out the exterior antenna and tight-beam transmitter. This meant communication between the squad and Collice was severed. Couldn't be helped. Once inside the compound Saars was sure he could hook something up and get back in contact.

"Strap in." Green announced. He cut speed, dropped the generator and the grav plummeted downwards. Ten meters from the ground, if the display was to be believed, Green popped the grav generator back on and the vehicle settled with a practiced, sudden stop. Green was able to make a slam landing without so much as a meter skid. They all pulled down their protective hoods and stepped out onto the rain soaked hill. Gravel-thick mud slurried around their boots and the rain came straight down. Their goggles pulled the disorientating purple of the atmosphere from their vision. 

It was a short walk to the crest of the hill. The farm laid below them. Rain bathed the grounds. Marking lights winked from their perch atop the perimeter fence. No could be seen moving on the surface and no lights appeared to be on in the slug hatcheries. At the opposite end of the farm from where they looked down they could see the communications tower. This concrete, two-story bunker would also harbor access below ground where the colonists would be living.

"Looks quiet and clear. Only signal coming from the tower says the farm is closed to landings." This was Dab. He was looking at his scanner wrapped in a tough, clear plastic. 

"Okay, lets descend in line, three meters apart. Once at the fence line Stab cuts it open and we walk right in. Any one approaches you, wants to talk to you, you put them down. We are here to pick up the package and assume the farmers don't want us to take it. No fracking around." 

The squad picked their way down the slippery hill and in ten minutes were standing in the shallow puddles along the slug farm's northern fence line. 

(to be continued)

ATU, OTU, No TU; my Traveller Hot Take

 Mewe this morning sported this graphic; 

Here the poster wants you to pick on the graph your Traveller play lands. While the chart displays a side for the game company's created setting (OTU for Original Traveller Universe). Which is not exactly true because Traveller when first released came with no setting. Developers assumed Referees and players had their own ideas they would wish to play. How wrong the first opinions of the first RPG creators were! And you got to sell more product, so like every other game company out there, GDW sold people a pre-packaged universe. 

On the left hand side of the graph is ATU (Alternate Traveller Universe). This refers to  a referee altering the Imperium setting to suit their needs. Not anything completely original though, just the basic acts a referee in any game is going to do when they get their hands on a published setting. 

And there you have CT (Classic Traveller) straddling the line between the two. What the graph lacks is a place for how Traveller was originally intended to be used. It is amusing, to me, that this important fact/attitude/outlook was completely lost when the game was released to the world. And I'm no different. When I first looked at Traveller a long time ago I took it as a game designed for adventure play in the "official" setting, and therefore bypassed it altogether and went with FGU's Space Opera. This game at least stressed in the introduction that the rules should be used to create your own science fiction settings and worlds. Unfortunately Space Opera had a terribly organized and edited rule book so I was never able to get very far with it in high school. 

It took a series of excellent blog posts, "Traveller out of the box" I think they are called which helped clarify what I was looking to do with my first attempts at science-fiction roleplay and how the original black books delivered, in spades!, for those intending to do something original. 

And that is the way I ran with Traveller when I got an online sci-fi game going. So the graph lacks a position, a place for people playing the game as first envisioned by Marc Miller, the creator of the game. 

Imperium-Adjacent the whole graph needs to be called. There is the official universe and then there are those who fiddle with the details. That is about it. So somewhere off the chart is where I live with the game. There is no space to pencil in "used as toolbox to build original games".

I turned to Dune, as I am wont to do when reflecting on the sci-fi (for game purposes, not reading pleasure) and what is my intent, goal with my game of sci-fi.

 Take the Dune books. Ostensibly the original book (the only one that matters) takes place on one planet and in one city on the planet. The star-spanning cultures of the Dune universe are only inferred through the thoughts and actions of the characters. Neat trick I say. So Frank Herbert created a huge galactic society by not creating a whole huge galactic society...

It begs the question how much world-building should a referee do at the outset of a new campaign? And it seems not much. I appreciate the brutal nakedness of the first generation of roleplaying games. Here is a set of rules tilted towards an adventure genre so when you create your own classic vision of sci-fi, western, fantasy the rules will support the referee's efforts. The first part of the original rules for Traveller accommodate this game philosophy through character creation. The method is such a neat "trick" players and referee can begin a game with little prep and plop media res at opening scene. Something as simple as "You are in the starport bar when a stranger approaches you with a proposition." Now players are sure to start squawking for setting information; what bar, what planet, what system... What navy, army, scout service spawned my character? 

I think the nimble referee looking to build a game universe around their player's characters is well rewarded by utilizing Classic Traveller rules. It is awesome if the referee has a crystal-clear idea on what the world setting will ultimately be about (Dune is a good example). Players get to "grow-up" with the game universe and learn about it like you would in real life, through experience. But if not, the game still supports the referee through all the important steps of adventure creation and campaigning. Without resorting to a pre-built universe to show you "how it is done." 

In conclusion, Traveller was once able to assist you with whatever sci-fi subgenre tickles your fancy. Planetary Romance, Hard Science Military, galactic savants and sentient planets, telepathic whales and rabbit-holes of new discoveries. Demons, wormhole passages, dreamy natives living on top of the ruins of ancients. Its use was quickly blasted away under the understandable need for gamers to be given a starting point, an official universe and the understandable need for the company to sell what the majority of gamers want. 

Long and short of it, I'm a relict of gamings past. The original design philosophy of the likes of Arneson and Miller leave me not wanting much more from the company outside of their genre specific rules. It is a concept I can lose hold of in the product push by game companies trying to pay the bills. Unfortunately for game companies fierce creatives will use their rules well, but not drop much on additional merch.

Rafael Chandler's Space Ship Generator

 Going through my DriveThru library I came across a booklet from the great Rafael Chandler and seeing as I am chewing my nails as Denver may pull out a win at +660 (I have Denver +50, even money) I am whiling away the final moments by converting the paper tables to an instant generator.

A Classic Traveller Patron Encounter Detailed

Saar was modifying Anderson's power converters when he showed to pick them up. 

“Wait out side. I'll get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All of various degrees of complexity, therefore various degrees of time to crack. Saar goes to work on the easiest. Time stamped photos of a corporate party in Kazawan City. The photos seem to focus on one individual in particular. It will take a facial recognition app to try and figure out who he is. Fifteen minutes tops. While the comp runs the program Saar looks up at the wal-vid broadcasting the latest scream sheet. 

“Gang violence breaks out at the Synapsis club between off-duty Omni Security and the Binary Dogs. No information yet on why these off-duty officers were at the club or why they engaged gang members, but Omni Security has requested anyone with any information on the whereabouts of Officer Jones [Picture] or Omni Contractor Hernandez [Picture] please contact Omni Security immediately. They should be considered armed and dangerous.” 

 A series of video camera footage just outside the entrance of the club in the top floor of a high-rise is being looped showing Jones and Hernandez entering the club with two other men. Quick head shots of the deceased Binary Dogs are displayed, then the usual quick reactionary crowd shots of the average Vanders citizen at the scene complaining about police corruption, the drug-trade and the poor colonists stuck in the middle trying to earn a living. 

“What the frak?!” When Saar left Jones and Hernandez they were heading to the Below Zero to collect the cash Bargar Vas promised them for getting the water turned back on out at Oh-Rif. What were they doing hours later at the Synapsis in a gunfight? And where is Schmidt? Sergeant Schmidt ran the mission out at Oh-Rif. Last he knew he had just got done debriefing the chief and collecting credits. Well it sure as purple-acid-rain did not concern Saar at the time. “My fraking fingers hurt.” He winced as he stabbed his deck for the readout.

Paulo Song, Omni Sun, COO Omni Horron Research Facility, responsible for the agra-augmentation program being conducted there.

 “Hey Saar”, this was Mr. Anderson punching his apartments com. “Someone is here to see you.”

“Tell him I'm not here.”

“Okay.” 

Saar bends back over his comp and begins an extraction program on the next most easily hacked piece of data. Six hours. “Run it.” 

“He says he can't really leave until he sees you.” the apartment's com crackles again. Aw hell, Saar punches the door access code. Anderson and Yang come back in with a well dressed man. Obviously Kazawan City, not a colonist. Anderson introduces him as his boy Hugo Rossi. Both Rossi and Saar look at each other trying to figure out why in the hell either one them would be talking to each other. Rossi trimmed out, good job obviously, standing in a pumped cube in the dome talking to cut up, electrocuted, dying computer hack. Saar was concluding once again he was shit at choosing friends.

“My employer, Mr. Down, would like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind?”

“Can he patch me up?”

“I hope so, or I've taken a two-hour tube ride for nothing.”

“Who's your boss?”

“Collace Down. His son just returned from Xxcarvis. He is concerned about his son, the condition of his return, and for some reason now he wants to talk to you. He also advises that we try and leave the dome as soon as possible.”

“Down is big in the professional circuit,” Anderson beams, “his son, Flare is probably the top celebrity sports star on Skalvil. I've raced against him before, he's totally cool.”

 Saar accepts he will not be having a quite night at home but says he can't leave until he makes a few files. He wants forty minutes. Rossi doesn't see any problem with that and shortly thereafter the group hits the concourse and grab a tube to Kazawan City. Down lives in a plush high-rise and they are escorted into what can only be the suite's lounge. Rossi fixes everyone drinks while a house attendant treats Saar with stimpacks and NueSkin patches.

 Heavy set with a face sandpaper-washed from time spent outside the environmental domes of Skalvil. Sharp dressed. Longtime local who made it good somehow.

 "Thank you for coming. I see you have met my mechanic Hugo Rossi. He has a lot to do with keeping this family in the winner's circle and a truly capable hand. But despite all my capabilities I have some current issues I am having some trouble wrapping my head around and I believe you may be helpful. It is my understanding you were recently out at Oh-Rif. Specifically, you were on the ground dealing with the seizure of the facility by terrorists. Is that right?”

 “Yes. Sergeant Schmidt, Omni Security. He hired me along with some other of his contract help to go out and see what the problem was.”

 “What did you find?” 

“What was reported. Some unknown armed group had taken over the facility, disrupted the water flow. Don't know why. Attracted a whole bunch of attention. How could it not. Angry colonists were outside ready to force their way in if the water didn't get turned back on. My group secured the facility, engaged the terrorists. We killed some. Some got away. Looks like they killed the whole staff their too. Didn't make much sense. Still doesn't. But it paid. Once we contacted Omni with a sit-rep the salaried boys rolled in and told us to go home.”

 Down drains his glass and sits on the couch. Arms spread, his prodigious stomach sticking out form his jacket. “My son got into trouble on an expedition on Xxcarvis. Championship grav-skiing on those tremendous ice peaks. Film crew, the whole works. Going to set a new frontier record no doubt. Now it is a four week journey one way so I don't expect up to the minute briefings, but that I was almost able to keep up daily with the expedition group. They would tight-beam their daily logs from the range to the Omni-Sun drilling facility. There they would be loaded onto the next transport out. There is enough regular commercial traffic out of Xxcarvis that every other day I had footage. He must of got into some trouble out their because the daily tight-beam stopped. I paid the Scouts to get out there and look for them. The Baudy Beth I think it was. 200T free-trader, 2 jump capability. Four weeks out, four weeks back minimum. A crew of four. They returned two weeks ahead of schedule with my son, the body of one of the scouts and the sole survivor of the trek. I still have not got any information on the whereabouts of the other two crew members. 

“The official report is they came across Flare in life-pod orbiting the gas giant at 0304. Still 2 parsecs out from Xxcarvis. Word is he was never on Xxcarvis. No trace of his ship, his crew. He is not okay. Something happened to him. The surviving scout from the mission I have been unable to find out who or were he is. Probably under lock and key at their base here in the city. I was able to find out the body of the dead scout had been transferred to Oh-Rif. So I want to ask you again: What did you find?” 

Saar let the stimpacks take him far away from his singed skin and lacerated torso. “They had some EMP device. Detonated in the power room. Brought the whole facility down. No power, no communication. They killed all the staff and took a body. They fled on boat out into the Skalvil Sea. We found it beached on the north shore. Original crew bound and executed. Most likely killed before the terrorists used the boat to enter Oh-Rif. They fled into the wastes on a four-wheeled ATV. The frequent acid-rain storms had quickly made their trail impossible to follow. Schmidt returned to the Omni tower to debrief and collect pay. I came home to find, well all of you.” 

Saar looked at the rest of the PC's. They all seemed happy with their drinks. “All I can say it didn't make any sense.”

“I want to take a look at that body. Do you think you can find it for me?” 

“Sure, were do you think we should look?” 

“There isn't much north of the Skalvil.” Downs picks up a remote from the table and turns on the his holo-vid. A three dimensional image of the rain scarred wastes of Skalvil in brilliant display. The Skalvil Sea was prominent then the display zoomed into the terrain north. Three colonies were identified: Krunner Farm, Harean Station and Horsail. 

“Harean Station is a slug farm, protein bases for you poor colonist’s food supplies out there on the plains and you poor dome'ers living on subsidy. Krunner Farm harvests Hellboria Wood. Very hard, very colorful when back lit and very expensive. My bar top here is a nice specimen. Horsail is a fracking operation. Anyone heading north via ATV's cannot get very far without living, knowing or being supplied by one of these colonies. Someone is going to know who they are and where they are. I suggest you start out immediately. Omni knows as much as this too. If they are hot to track down the terrorists, they will be heading there soon. But then again, now the facility is back up maybe not so soon. Hugo here has tuned up the Trell III, a capable back country air raft. Enclosed of course. He has agreed to accompany you all. As a top mechanic you shouldn't have to worry about breakdown.”

 

Unknown Space Wreckage for you Traveller game

I mashed two tables from the internet to create a quick space wreckage encounter with a little spice! Thanks random internet tables... 

Uncharted Space Random Tables for Traveller

Here is a instant generator I cobbled together out of some old Judge's Guild Traveller products. The use of this generator is when and if your PCs end up in a section of space previously unexplored by any agency. It is not fine grained, detailed or offering up interstellar stats. What it is for is to give the Referee something to work off in an instant notice! The obvious initial use of this generator is when your PCs miss-jump trying to navigate through hyperspace/jumpspace!

Sights Around the System

These tables were generated/inspired by the CardSharp Galaxy.

Here is some random generators to kick up details on any new solar system your PCs jump into:

  

Traveller Noir

I refurbished some verbiage on one of my precious Traveller sessions. Vanders Dome, some simple shenanigans dressed up in tech, cyber and my gawd awful Dashiel Hammet pastiche. Still, I like the way this seldom run game has begun to mingle action by different player groups into the overall action happening in the city. With modern communication you just might find out what other PCs are doing while you are out running errands... 

Session PC's:

Hugo Rossi – Head Mechanic for Collace Down's racing team.

Mr. Anderson – Local Vandars amateur racer.

Yang – Just another local Vandars tough who hangs out with Mr. Anderson.

Saar – Omni Security Vandars contract worker and computer hack.

 

Notable NPC's:

Clug – a bodyguard who works for Collace Down

Collace Down: Rich citizen of Kazawan City.

Paulo Song – Omni Sun CEO

Cisero – Headman of the Krunner Farm. They manufacture high end finishes from Hellboria Wood.

Trell 3 – All terrain air-raft loaned out by Collace Down

 

Notable Locations:

Kazawan City

New Lanark Apartments, Owens Block, Vandars

Krunner Farm, colonists who are growers of Hellboria Wood.

Harean Station, a grotto where colonists harvest Harean slugs. The slugs are an important source of protein for the planet’s food supply.

Horsail, a colonist hydrogen fracking operation.

PC #2 and #3 are Anderson and Yang. Both are Vanders' locals. Mr. Andeson likes to think of himself as kind of a hotshot on the amateur race circuit while Yang usually has nothing to do but hang out with Anderson. Saar was modifying Anderson's power converters and he is here to pick them up.

 

Chapter 1

 

W

ait outside. I will get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All various degrees of complexity, therefore various degrees of time to crack. Saar goes to work on the easiest. Time stamped photos of a corporate party in Kazawan City. The photos seem to focus on one individual in particular. It will take running a facial recognition app to try and figure out who he is. Fifteen minutes tops. While the comp runs the program, Saar looks up at the wal-vid broadcasting the latest scream sheet.

 

“Gang violence breaks out at the Synapsis club between off-duty Omni Security and the Binary Dogs. No information yet on why these off-duty officers were at the club or why they engaged gang members, but Omni Security has requested anyone with any information on the whereabouts of Officer Jones [Picture of Jose looking up from a bowl of cereal] or Omni Contractor Hernandez [Picture of Paul riding an electronic bull] please contact Omni Security immediately. They should be considered armed and dangerous. A series of video camera footage just outside the entrance of the club in the top floor of a high-rise is being looped showing Jones and Hernandez entering the club with two other men. Quick head shots of the deceased Binary Dogs are displayed, then the usual quick reactionary crowd shots of the average Vanders citizen at the scene complaining about police corruption, the drug-trade and the poor colonists stuck in the middle trying to earn a living.

 

“What the frak?!” When Saar left Jones and Hernandez, they were heading to the Below Zero to collect the cash Bargar Vas promised them for getting the water turned back on out at Oh-Rif. What were they doing hours later at the Synapsis in a gunfight? And where is Schmidt? Sergeant Schmidt ran the mission out at Oh-Rif. Last he knew he had just got done debriefing the chief and collecting credits. Well it sure as purple-acid-rain did not concern Saar at the time. “My fraking fingers hurt.” He winced as he stabbed his deck for the readout.

 

Paulo Song, Omni Sun, COO Omni Horron Research Facility, responsible for the agra-augmentation program being conducted there.

 

“Hey Saar”, this was Mr. Anderson punching his apartments com. “Someone is here to see you.”

“Tell him I'm not here.”

“Okay.”

 

Saar bends back over his comp and begins and extraction program on the next most easily hacked piece of data. Six hours. “Run it.”

 

“He says he can't really leave until he sees you.” the apartment's com crackles again. Aw hell, Saar punches the door access code. Anderson and Yang come back in with a well-dressed man. Obviously Kazawan City, not a colonist. Anderson introduces him as his boy Hugo Rossi. Both Rossi and Saar look at each other trying to figure out why in the hell either one them would be talking to each other. Rossi trimmed out, good job obviously, standing in a pumped cube in the dome talking to cut up, electrocuted, dying computer hack. Saar concluding once again he was shit at choosing friends.

 

“My employer, Mr. Down, would like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind?”

“Can he patch me up?”

“I hope so, or I've taken a two-hour tube ride for nothing.”

“Who's your boss?”

“Collace Down. His son just returned from Xxcarvis. He is concerned about his son, the condition of his return, and for some reason now he wants to talk to you. He also advises that we try and leave the dome as soon as possible.”

“Down is big in the professional circuit,” Anderson beams, “his son, Flare is probably the top celebrity sports star on Skalvil. I've raced against him before, he's totally cool.”

 

Saar accepts he will not be having a quite night at home but says he cannot leave until he makes a few files. He wants forty minutes. Rossi does not see any problem with that and shortly thereafter the group hits the concourse and grab a tube to Kazawan City. Down lives in a plush high-rise and they are escorted into what can only be the suite's lounge. Rossi fixes everyone drinks while a house attendant treats Saar with stimpacks and NueSkin patches.

 

Heavy set with a face sandpaper-washed from time outside the domes of Skalvil. Sharp dressed. Longtime local who made it good somehow?

 

“Thank you for coming. I see you have met my mechanic Hugo Rossi. He has a lot to do with keeping this family in the winner's circle and a truly capable hand. I myself as you can see am quite capable, but I have some current issues I am having some trouble wrapping my head around and I believe you may be helpful. It is my understanding you were recently out at Oh-Rif. Specifically, you were on the ground dealing with the seizure of the facility by terrorists. Is that right?”

 

“Yes. Sergeant Schmidt, Omni Security. He hired me along with some other of his contract help to go out and see what the problem was.”

 

“What did you find?”

 

“What was reported. Some unknown armed group had taken over the facility, disrupted the water flow. Don't know why. Attracted a whole bunch of attention. How could it not. Angry colonists were outside ready to force their way in if the water didn't get turned back on. My group secured the facility, engaged the terrorists. We killed some. Some got away. Looks like they killed the whole staff their too. Didn't make much sense. Still doesn't. But it paid. Once we contacted Omni with a sit-rep the salaried boys rolled in and told us to go home.”

 

Down drains his glass and sits on the couch. Arms spread, his prodigious stomach sticking out form his jacket. “My son got into trouble on an expedition on Xxcarvis. Championship grav-skiing on those tremendous ice peaks. Film crew, the whole works. Going to set a new frontier record no doubt. Now it is a four-week journey one way, so I don't expect up to the minute briefings, but I was almost able to keep up daily with the expedition group. They would tight-beam their daily logs from the range to the Omni-Sun drilling facility. There they would be loaded onto the next transport out. There is enough regular commercial traffic out of Xxcarvis that every other day I had footage. He must have got into some trouble out their because the daily tight-beam stopped. I paid the Scouts to get out there and look for them. The Baudy Beth I think it was. 200T free-trader, 2 jump capability. Four weeks out, four weeks back minimum. A crew of four. They returned two weeks ahead of schedule with my son, the body of one of the scouts and the sole survivor of the trek. I still have not got any information on the whereabouts of the other two crew members.

 

“The official report is they came across Flare in life-pod orbiting the gas giant at 0304. Still 2 parsecs out from Xxcarvis. Word is he was never on Xxcarvis. No trace of his ship, his crew. He is not okay. Something happened to him. The surviving scout from the mission I have been unable to find out who or where he is. Probably under lock and key at their base here in the city. I was able to find out the body of the dead scout had been transferred to Oh-Rif. So, I want to ask you again: What did you find?”

 

Saar let the stimpacks take him far away from his singed skin and lacerated torso. “They had some EMP device. Detonated in the power room. Brought the whole facility down. No power, no communication. They killed all the staff and took a body. They fled on boat out into the Skalvil Sea. We found it beached on the north shore. Original crew bound and executed. Most likely killed before the terrorists used the boat to enter Oh-Rif. They fled into the wastes on a four-wheeled ATV. The frequent acid-rain storms had quickly made their trail impossible to follow. Schmidt returned to the Omni tower to debrief and collect pay. I came home to find, well, all of you.”

 

Saar looked at the rest of the PC's. They all seemed happy with their drinks. “All I can say, it didn't make any sense.”

“I want to take a look at that body. Do you think you can find it for me?”

 

“Sure, were do you think we should look?”

 

“There isn't much north of the Skalvil.” Downs picks up a remote from the table and turns on the holo-vid. A three-dimensional image of the rain scarred wastes of Skalvil in brilliant display. The Skalvil Sea was prominent then the display zoomed into the terrain north. Three colonies were identified: Krunner Farm, Harean Station and Horsail.

 

“Harean Station is a slug farm, protein bases for colonist food supplies out there on the plains, and the poor dome'ers living on subsidy. Krunner Farm harvests Hellboria Wood. Extremely hard, very colorful when back lit and very expensive. My bar top here is a nice specimen.

“Horsail is a fracking operation. Anyone heading north via ATV's cannot get far without living, knowing, or being supplied by one of these colonies. Someone is going to know who they are and where they are. I suggest you start out immediately. Omni knows as much as this too. If they are hot to track down the terrorists, they will be heading there soon. But then again, now the facility is back up maybe not so soon. Hugo here has tuned up the Trell III, a capable back country air raft. Enclosed of course. He has agreed to accompany you all. As a top mechanic you shouldn't have to worry about breakdown.”

 

N

avigating the Skalvil wastes it was apparent to all but Anderson that he drives way too fast. He calmly whistled some inane tune as he carved the grav-powered hover jeep through the tortuous terrain racked by sudden purple sheets of rain and deep defiles. They were heading to Krunner. The closest colony to the sea and the hardest to reach. The PC's expected signal contact soon.

“Uh oh.” Anderson stopped whistling.

 

“What?” asked Yang. He was white-knuckling it shotgun.

 

“I think we're going to hit a Wempir swarm.” Everyone starts yelling for him to turn around it.

 

“I'm going too fast. You better break out the guns.” Aggressive little five-kilogram grey-mottled blimps, Flying Wempirs attack anything flying along close to the ground. Their massive swarms will envelope suspected prey with viscous barbed mouths. For the Trell III it would be like hitting a brick wall at this speed. “Start blasting and I'll try and spin us out!” Anderson was yelling now.

 

The crew lowered their wind screens and squirted their rifles and sub machine guns on full auto. The wind and the rain screamed along with the furious shriek of the swarm, black against the now obliterated purple sky. The jeep was buffeted by hundreds of splatting flyers, made a sickening barrel roll, and slid out of the swarm down a slot canyon.

 

“Whooee!” Anderson and Yang were pounding the dashboard delighted to not be dead. It was hard to tell what the rest of the crew was thinking all rain and Wempir gore sprayed.

 

“Bogey One this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com. (to be continued)

 

 

Chapter II

 

B

ogey One this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com.

“This is air-raft Trell 3 out of Kazawan. We are scouring the wastes for criminals which recently attacked Oh-Rif. Permission to land. We’re like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure thing Trell 3, ain’t seen nows none terrorists running loose around here by jingo. Dinner’s hot though. Just getting served in the mess tent. Come on in.”

Anderson brings the air raft down on the lighted pad in front of several above ground “tents”, rugged polymer wrapped metal buildings to withstand the tainted rain. By the time Saar stepped out of the air raft and smelt the burnt cashew of Skalvil the filters never caught someone was coming out of the tent in the middle wearing a worn and patched work suit.

“You don’t look so good”, Yang looks Saar up and down in the rain. “You sure you want to bring that?” He was looking at Saar’s SMG gripped in his bandaged hands.

“Do I look like I’m someone looking for criminals?”

“You look like someone who should be laying down.” Yang rolls up his window.

“Welcome to Kunner Farm, home of the finest Hellboria wood slabs. I’m Ciscero.”

Saar limps up to the farmer holding his gun-free hand up, Anderson dims the air raft’s lights.

“You see anyone coming out of the hard scrap recently, without vehicles?”

“No, we haven’t anyone passing through.”

“How long someone stay out here without a vehicle, on foot.

“Aah I say not very long. Depends how much clean water you have I suppose. You want to sit down? Get a cup of cava or something?”

“Anywhere to reach you from the lake from Omni-Sun?”

“Without vehicles, no, no. Not easy. Long way around, rough ground between here and there.

“Weren’t you all bothered by the trouble at Oh-Rif? Water got shut off.”

“No, we’ve been off Omni’s flow for a while. We got filters. They are not great, but they do the job.”

“That is good for you. Somehow Oh-Rif got shut down. Brought down a lot of your friends out to the plant. That cava sounds good, can the rest of my crew come in?”

The promise of pay for any information after breaking bread and conversation with Ciscero convinced Saar there was nothing more to be gained at Kunner. The saws which cut the rock hard “trees” into brilliant slices could be heard grinding away in the underground shops. Hugo gave Ciscero the radio ID number to contact if the colonists see any strangers.

“Slug farm is before Horsail.” Anderson starts the air-raft and gains altitude leaving the farm. The rain had let off and the night was black.

“Sounds good.” says Rossi.

Within hailing distance to the grotto which housed the topside buildings Anderson contacted Harean Station.

“Trell III we have been appraised of Oh-Rif. We are back up with full power. Haven’t had any problems here except the lights dimming there for a few hours.”

“Understood Harean Station. We are Omni Security contractors, we just need to look around. Some of the Oh-Rif saboteurs were believed to have fled the scene and remain at large.

“Copy Trell 3, landing request denied.”

“Dam that was cold. What is got these guys all uptight? Says Yang.

“Maybe they just don’t like Omni-Sun?” Saar says.

“Hey, I know Omni may not be everyone’s favorite out here.” Anderson gets back on the com. “Were not Omni. We are out looking for a missing person, Kazawan City. Private contract. Can you give me a break? We got credits for fuel. We can even give you a local scan, make sure the sector’s clean.”

“We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Request denied.”

 “Set down the raft out of sight, I want to check this out.”

Saars and Yang hugged the wet dirt of a small rise. It gave an unobstructed view of the front of the farm.

 

“There we go,” Saar growled under his breath. He handed the bi-noks to Yang. “See that. Two of them are leaving. Where could they be going in such a hurry just as we buzz them for a stop?”

“Tell someone we were here?” Yang raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Damn right. And they didn’t want to broadcast it in case anyone in the area could pick up the transmission. Allow anyone to get a fix on who they were talking to. Kind of suspicious behavior for a slug farmer, no?”

Yang got on his com, “Anderson, get the Trell up. Come and grab us. And get a fix on two ATV’s heading… five nine nine three.” Yang and Saar both backed away from the muddy ridge and were quickly picked up by Anderson and the Trell.

“Want me to drop on ‘em?” Anderson asked as they quickly caught up to the four-wheel machines speeding over the dark, wet purple plain.

“No, just close enough they can’t ignore me.” Saar powered on the exterior sounder. “Harean Station, pull over. You only get one chance. Otherwise you are looking at an iso-cube back in Kazawan!”

No one in the Trell expected the drivers on the ground to comply, and none were surprised when the two vehicles split up, began heading in opposite directions from another.

“Which one boss?” Anderson called out.

“Hmmm, take the one on the right.” Saar says.

The Trell closed ground quickly and they could now see the ATV contained two riders. One of the two twisted around and leveled what must have been long range slug thrower at the Trell and started shooting.

“They started shooting!” Yells Anderson.

“Just hold it steady.” Yang says. He is powering down his side window and leans out with his light carbine.

It was either the second or third shot which struck the ATV. Blew out a tire. The ATV did a gut-wrenching lurch then rolled. The rider and passenger were both thrown from the wreck. With the Trell on the ground everyone but Anderson unloaded and approached the roll-over with guns drawn. One of the enviro-suited colonists was obviously dead. Crumpled against a pile of rocks. The other, the shooter, was unmoving but audibly groaning. The ATV was clearly undrivable. Rossi checked out the back of the dead one’s neck. “You’re right Saar. Strange tattoo on her neck.” This close it was easy to see the driver’s gender.

“Stop squirming slug-farmer!” This was Yang. He had his foot on the groaning colonist. Saar bent down and peeled back the suit to see the expected same tattoo.

“So what is going on? Bunch of wacked out religious nuts getting off on dead scouts is what I see.” Saar had pulled the colonist’s mask off, leaving the wild-eyed farmer to suck in the tainted air.

“You are so fucked. You all are so fucked!” He screams at them all. “You have no idea what is coming you smug capitalistic bastards!” Yang raised his fist preparing to slam the colonist’s head off the dirt but stopped short as the colonist’s insane babbling changed into a soggy, choking sob. His skin starts to ripple, become watery. Pinkish foaming regurgitation spews out of his mouth. His eyes pop with a watery sploosh, disappearing in rivulets down his yellow environmental suit, and then collapses into soft, lifeless corpse. A clear liquid continues to seep out from him into the purple dirt.

Saar looks down at the mess, puzzled. “Throw him in the trunk. The other one to. Then get the hell out here. We should get back to Kazawan.” 

(to be continued)