1
Mods / Re: [0.95a] Furry Portrait Pack v1.1
« on: April 04, 2021, 08:30:11 AM »
why
just why
ugh
dont anyone look at my mods folder
just why
ugh
dont anyone look at my mods folder
Fractal Softworks Forum
- April 28, 2024, 02:19:47 AM
- Welcome, Guest
News:
Starsector 0.97a is out! (02/02/24); New blog post: Save/Load UI, Autosave, Intel Map Markers, and More (04/10/24)
Show Posts
This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.
Pages: [1]
3
Announcements / Re: Starsector 0.95a (Released) Patch Notes
« on: March 27, 2021, 08:55:16 AM »
oh man theres a new update
rip my weekend
im quitting my job
*** sorry government i aint payin no more bills, theres a new starsector update
rip my weekend
im quitting my job
*** sorry government i aint payin no more bills, theres a new starsector update
4
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 15, 2021, 09:19:21 AM »
Ya im not really opposed to the game changing that aspect of it and i wouldnt ditch it if the game did. i do like it quite a lot though. i also do appreciate that a good chunk of the modding community is really... really... really dedicated to expanding lore and trying to match the writing and aesthetic
5
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 15, 2021, 07:30:45 AM »
that being said, if this is what the devs consider a beta/alpha version, i am really interested to see what the finished product will have.
6
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 15, 2021, 07:28:34 AM »
yeah i mean of course you're going to have some real smug dudes come in and start *** on everyones fun
ya all need to understand one thing: Context
Every single other space game sucks ass and puts you to sleep with its insanely, pointlessly slow pacing or is so incredibly obtuse in its controls (X series, I'm looking at you) that it is absolutely pointless to even attempt to dive into it because its not fun
Games are meant to be fun
Starsector may not be as complex as some other 4xs with huge studios behind them since the game devs only charge you $15 for free updates forever, whereas Paradox Games holds you up at gunpoint in a seedy alleyway and demands over $100 if you want to play the actual game and then they keep adding more and more *** so eventually this damn game will cost $300 for a game you dont actually play. you just hit buttons and sit back and watch the game unfold
Starsector you actually control the ships, you actually control your fleet, you actually have a character. you go around a broken galaxy uncovering lost technology until you have accrued so much forgotten overpowered technology that everyone has to kiss your feet. you actually PLAY the game. plus, you dont need HOURS of tutorials to figure it out. i tried Elite: dangerous the other day and refunded it because the tutorial is over HALF AN HOUR LONG. who cares??? i want to play the game. i dont want it to treat me like i'm unable to just hit escape and read the key bindings to learn how to play the game. Starsector dumps you in and says "figure this *** out" and its not very hard, you might have the IQ of a lima bean if you cant figure out how to play starsector in five minutes. the deeper mechanics and really getting into the combat takes time, but idk so does Dark Souls.
why does it need such a focus and such a story? do you really need every little bit of plot and detail spelled out to you in a 40 page handbook? cause that is the antithesis of good writing. as it is, you create your own characters. you don't necessarily need mods to create your own elaborate stories. mods like Nex certainly flesh out the 4x aspect and colony management, but as it is, the main factions and the mechanics available are far more of a complete and interesting game than Freelancer or GalCiv 3 or even Stellaris in the beginning. Stellaris in the beginning was frigging terrible. there's just a higher level of quality control with the devs for this game so they still consider this phase to not be a full release. most AAA games are not even this well developed in their betas.
except, its actually fun. most sandboxes are just a bunch of game elements that game developers cut and paste.
you know what other game wasnt that complex but had a great combat system and just enough 4x elements to give the game way more depth than just shooting ships? and also pirates? and a bounty system? also a handful of guys made it and it blew away every single space game ever made up until that point and everyone wanted to replicate the ideas it started?
Sins of a Solar Empire
ya all need to understand one thing: Context
Every single other space game sucks ass and puts you to sleep with its insanely, pointlessly slow pacing or is so incredibly obtuse in its controls (X series, I'm looking at you) that it is absolutely pointless to even attempt to dive into it because its not fun
Games are meant to be fun
Starsector may not be as complex as some other 4xs with huge studios behind them since the game devs only charge you $15 for free updates forever, whereas Paradox Games holds you up at gunpoint in a seedy alleyway and demands over $100 if you want to play the actual game and then they keep adding more and more *** so eventually this damn game will cost $300 for a game you dont actually play. you just hit buttons and sit back and watch the game unfold
Starsector you actually control the ships, you actually control your fleet, you actually have a character. you go around a broken galaxy uncovering lost technology until you have accrued so much forgotten overpowered technology that everyone has to kiss your feet. you actually PLAY the game. plus, you dont need HOURS of tutorials to figure it out. i tried Elite: dangerous the other day and refunded it because the tutorial is over HALF AN HOUR LONG. who cares??? i want to play the game. i dont want it to treat me like i'm unable to just hit escape and read the key bindings to learn how to play the game. Starsector dumps you in and says "figure this *** out" and its not very hard, you might have the IQ of a lima bean if you cant figure out how to play starsector in five minutes. the deeper mechanics and really getting into the combat takes time, but idk so does Dark Souls.
why does it need such a focus and such a story? do you really need every little bit of plot and detail spelled out to you in a 40 page handbook? cause that is the antithesis of good writing. as it is, you create your own characters. you don't necessarily need mods to create your own elaborate stories. mods like Nex certainly flesh out the 4x aspect and colony management, but as it is, the main factions and the mechanics available are far more of a complete and interesting game than Freelancer or GalCiv 3 or even Stellaris in the beginning. Stellaris in the beginning was frigging terrible. there's just a higher level of quality control with the devs for this game so they still consider this phase to not be a full release. most AAA games are not even this well developed in their betas.
except, its actually fun. most sandboxes are just a bunch of game elements that game developers cut and paste.
you know what other game wasnt that complex but had a great combat system and just enough 4x elements to give the game way more depth than just shooting ships? and also pirates? and a bounty system? also a handful of guys made it and it blew away every single space game ever made up until that point and everyone wanted to replicate the ideas it started?
Sins of a Solar Empire
7
Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / Re: Friday Ganymede: Intergalactic Space Cocaine Smuggler
« on: February 14, 2021, 11:43:51 AM »
thank you! im definitely going to finish this sometime this week, i was just thinking about it.
i NEVER pay the Luddic path man. never. they can kiss my ass for that tithe, even after i bilk them out of hundreds of thousands of credits. if i wanted to pay taxes i wouldnt be selling to the black market
i NEVER pay the Luddic path man. never. they can kiss my ass for that tithe, even after i bilk them out of hundreds of thousands of credits. if i wanted to pay taxes i wouldnt be selling to the black market
8
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 02, 2021, 01:30:16 AM »
yeah its legitimately hilarious how graphically intensive like... call of duty is for instance when its players are not known for absorbing the details. the crazy thing is though, call of duty is probably objectively speaking the highest quality BS triple A gaming franchise there is: the games are usually polished and even if the plots are boring or cliche, they make more sense and have better acting than like Ghost of Tsushima or Horizon Zero Dawn or any of the more generic releases that have come out. they are consistent. but these guys spend so much time on the graphics only to release the same exact game ever year. but they make so much money! why would they not? it's a sad cycle.
it certainly creates a large niche market for games like starsector, though
it certainly creates a large niche market for games like starsector, though
9
Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / Re: Friday Ganymede: Intergalactic Space Cocaine Smuggler
« on: February 02, 2021, 01:23:33 AM »
ah, yes, the perfect recipe for part 2 of Friday's sordid tale of morally questionable wealth acquisition. another all nighter and more marijuanas. hope ya all enjoy.
there will, of course, be more.
------
It was always when victory was so close, when you could reach out and touch the finish line- that's when problems arose. So, predictably, with the glowing purple hue of the jump point in sight, that's when every single alarm in Friday's ship went off at once.
Before Friday could even ask what was going on, Tom yelled out, “Luddic patrol spotted us.”
This was obviously not a good situation to be in. While both the Mudskipper and the Wolf had some light armaments, they were not prepared to take on a patrol of complete fanatics, armed to the teeth. Also, they were probably high on the cocaine that someone had just dropped off on Chalcedon. For all Friday knew, those were the exact acolytes he'd just sold the drugs to, looking to get their money back. After all, he was running dark and coming out of the thick debris field surrounding a long destroyed and abandoned station. There was no way for him to get spotted this fast. Probably.
This wasn't really the time to wonder how he got into the situation, however; instead, the more pressing issue was going to get out. Preferably in one piece, and not in an escape pod. He... he didn't have insurance on the ships.
Friday really regretted that decision right about now.
“Well, then let's go ahead and set the engines to e-burn and get the absolute hell out of-”
“They're within hailing range, they're sending a comms request. Do we accept?”
Friday thought about it for a second. “Why not. Go ahead.”
The bearded face that appeared on screen was not anything that Ganymede or anyone in his crew recognized. “I am Herald Captain Androsser. Non-believer, you have defiled our space. Moreover, we caught you sneaking around like a rat. By all rights, I should blast you and your two little ships right here and right now. However, I do not want to ruin my dinner with infidel blood. Pay a tithe of ten thousand shall let you pass out of here peacefully.”
What felt like a ten ton hammer hit Friday in the guts. Ten thousand credits was a lot of money. That was a whole new ship. That was a lot of drugs. That was a lot of supplies, fuel, crew... just a lot of money. That was Friday's money. He had worked hard to hustle it out of these fanatical morons. By no means was he about to give it back.
“Get ***! Block all incoming comms!” Friday stood out of his chair and shouted. The screen with the weathered face of the fanatic blinked out of his existence, his surprise frozen in Friday's mind as something he'll enjoy for the rest of his life. Hopefully that would be a long life. Hopefully no one in the crew was upset that Ganymede cared more about his profit margin than their lives.
No time to think about that. Deal with mutiny later. No one was smart enough to bring their own oxygen supply other than Friday, anyway. Simple soluti-
Friday shook his head. He got distracted too easy. “Ok, back to what I said! Set engines to e-burn, let's get OUT of here! Head straight to the warp point. Orin! Cecil!”
There was a small, bald man in front of a series of levers and blinking lights in the Wolf. For the transmission that carried over to the Mudskipper, there was a taller man with a disshelved mane of hair and beard. This was the Orin and Cecil that Friday referred to. They were brothers whom Friday had known for some time, and were well known mechanics in his hometown. He knew he could trust them when he could trust few other people, so he'd made sure to do what it took to get them to come with them. This moment was the pay off for all those hours spent begging them to come, offering them more and more of his meager startup cash until they finally agreed.
It was worth it.
Neither of them even responded verbally. Hands darted where they needed to go instantly. Almost before Ganymede finished his sentence, both ships lurched forward in bursts of extreme speed. He was almost thrown back into his captain's chair from standing, but Friday managed to steady himself. He quickly did take a seat and, much like the rest of his crews, buckled himself in for the ride. There was a ring around his neck, much like a necklace. He swiped his finger over a depression on it, and a nearly invisible field formed around his head. No one else in the crew noticed it, but in the event he was vented into space, this little object would keep Friday alive and floating until he could get pickup.
The good thing about a small fleet was speed. Friday probably could have purchased another ship or two in order to buffer out his chances of surviving direct combat in this situation, but first of all, Friday was not a fighter. Secondly, he wasn't sure how much a ship or two would make a difference in a fight against an experienced, well equipped military combatant. So he decided to stick with two ships. This too paid off. He thought he could almost hear the herald captain cursing to his crew as he left them in the dust.
In reality, that was one of his crew cursing. In fact, Friday was pretty sure that was Tom. Which meant that something looked pretty messed up. That meant nothing good.
“What! What's going on?”
“It's... it's *** burning towards us way too fast!”
“The *** are you talking- just put it on the bridge monitor, show me!”
A live feed blinked onto widescreen in center of the bridge of not behind the ship, as Friday had expected, but what looked to be starboard. There was very clearly one of the iconic bright red Dram tankers burning right towards his Mudskipper, No One Can Tell Me The Odds. It was also very clearly not on a refueling mission.
Internally, Friday was screaming. He had done everything right, everything the way you're supposed to do it! Why-
This was not the time.
“Tell them to keep on course in the Odds, it'll just follow them if they go off path until it rams them – and it makes it harder for us to hit it.”
Tom looked over at Friday. “What-”
“Orin, flip us around with the last of the e burn. Weapons team! Target the engines on that Dram and let our Reaper torpedo loose.”
Everyone hesitated. They weren't a military crew, they weren't trained to take orders without thinking. Friday read the room.
“Look, we don't have time! We have to try! Do it, please! Anyone has anything better, say it right this second! No? Good! Please, Orin, Tom!”
The clean cut man with glasses at the missile control station grimaced. He flipped a switch. “Torpedo primed and ready.”
Orin didn't say anything, as usual. Him and his brother were real silent types. It made Friday nervous sometimes. But, as usual, Orin didn't fail him. The ship began to turn.
Hopefully those critical seconds of hesitation weren't game changing. The dram tanker was much, much closer to the Odds.
“I have the shot!”
“T- this isn't a god damn movie Tom! *** take it!” Friday would have jumped out of his seat, but he was strapped in still. The straps cut into his throat, choking out his last words like a dog at the end of its leash.
The silvery tube streaked into view on the live feed. It moved far faster than either the tanker or the Mudskipper. Either the Luddic marauders on board didn't notice the torpedo, they noticed it too late, or the most scary thought- they simply didn't care. For one reason or another, the ship didn't budge from it's path to try and avoid the torpedo.
In a brilliant explosion, the objects collided. Bits of engine floated through space behind the tanker. Despite their best efforts to stop the tanker, inertia carried it forward at a more than dangerous speed. It spun through space towards No One Can Tell Me The Odds. They were going to collide. There was no way to stop it.
“Tranverse jump! No questions! Do it! Both ships!”
The ships both thrummed with energy as they charged up their trump card, one of the most illegal engine modifications in the civilized sector. It was Ganymede's last resort, period. He did not want anyone to know he had it. It would simply make his life more difficult. But, so would a heap of dead crew members. Screw it.
The last thing he saw before his ship blinked across the void was the collision of the two ships. He closed his eyes. A deep feeling of failure washed over him.
Outside of Kumari Kandom, the ships blinked back into existence. Everyone on bridge had already removed themselves quickly from their straps. They had gathered around the front of the bridge's main monitor, around Ganymede and his captain's chair. Many shot furtive glances at him.
“All cameras on No One Can Tell me The Odds, Tom.”
What they saw was not good.
No One Can Tell Me the Odds had almost made it. You could see it in the way that the gash ran all the way from its belly to the engine. It was eerie, to see it so empty. The crew that were vented must have been left before the transverse jump.
The crew murmured. Some were a little louder than a murder.
“Holy ***!”
“Friday, what the *** man! What the ***!”
“Do we know who made it?”
And so forth. Really, there weren't many people murmuring. Most of the crew was pretty upset.
Friday didn't let the mood sit. “Can we re-establish comms yet? Why are you not at your stations?”
The masses biting at him stopped. A few looked at each other. They shuffled back to their stations rather quickly.
“Comms re-established.”
Friday nodded. He spoke out loud. “Hey, Cecil? Celeste? Marion? Who's still there?”
Silence.
No one expected that. Friday didn't either. He shifted nervously in his seat.
“...Is anyone left?”
There was still no response.
Friday sat there for a minute. He felt everyone's eyes on him. So far, he had been quick. No hesitation. Even when, inside, he was screaming. This, this was a little much though. He had known some of those people his whole life. Cecil. He'd grown up with Cecil.
He looked over at Orin. He'd never seen that look on Orin's face before and Friday immediately didn't like it.
“Orin, I... I'm so sorr-”
For once, Orin spoke. He interrupted. “Friday... I hope my brother's life was worth your ten thousand credits.”
Friday almost met Orin's eyes, but couldn't. He looked to the floor.
Just when it almost became unbearable for the room, he looked at the rest of the crew. His voice came out a little hoarsely. He didn't mean for it to. He felt hot, though. So very hot.
“Send out a salvage crew to find what's usable... Then, we'll head to Sindria's home system, like we planned. No. I'll pick out the salvage team. Everyone, take some rest, I'll come to a few of you to help me with this.”
Everyone immediately shuffled out of the bridge. Except for Orin. Friday made sure he wasn't left alone with Orin. He immediately headed for his cabin.
Once inside, he shut the door. He thought for a second about those he lost. The price they paid. Friday stared at the hundreds of thousands of credits in his bank account. He smirked.
They would be the first soldiers that died for his empire.
there will, of course, be more.
------
It was always when victory was so close, when you could reach out and touch the finish line- that's when problems arose. So, predictably, with the glowing purple hue of the jump point in sight, that's when every single alarm in Friday's ship went off at once.
Before Friday could even ask what was going on, Tom yelled out, “Luddic patrol spotted us.”
This was obviously not a good situation to be in. While both the Mudskipper and the Wolf had some light armaments, they were not prepared to take on a patrol of complete fanatics, armed to the teeth. Also, they were probably high on the cocaine that someone had just dropped off on Chalcedon. For all Friday knew, those were the exact acolytes he'd just sold the drugs to, looking to get their money back. After all, he was running dark and coming out of the thick debris field surrounding a long destroyed and abandoned station. There was no way for him to get spotted this fast. Probably.
This wasn't really the time to wonder how he got into the situation, however; instead, the more pressing issue was going to get out. Preferably in one piece, and not in an escape pod. He... he didn't have insurance on the ships.
Friday really regretted that decision right about now.
“Well, then let's go ahead and set the engines to e-burn and get the absolute hell out of-”
“They're within hailing range, they're sending a comms request. Do we accept?”
Friday thought about it for a second. “Why not. Go ahead.”
The bearded face that appeared on screen was not anything that Ganymede or anyone in his crew recognized. “I am Herald Captain Androsser. Non-believer, you have defiled our space. Moreover, we caught you sneaking around like a rat. By all rights, I should blast you and your two little ships right here and right now. However, I do not want to ruin my dinner with infidel blood. Pay a tithe of ten thousand shall let you pass out of here peacefully.”
What felt like a ten ton hammer hit Friday in the guts. Ten thousand credits was a lot of money. That was a whole new ship. That was a lot of drugs. That was a lot of supplies, fuel, crew... just a lot of money. That was Friday's money. He had worked hard to hustle it out of these fanatical morons. By no means was he about to give it back.
“Get ***! Block all incoming comms!” Friday stood out of his chair and shouted. The screen with the weathered face of the fanatic blinked out of his existence, his surprise frozen in Friday's mind as something he'll enjoy for the rest of his life. Hopefully that would be a long life. Hopefully no one in the crew was upset that Ganymede cared more about his profit margin than their lives.
No time to think about that. Deal with mutiny later. No one was smart enough to bring their own oxygen supply other than Friday, anyway. Simple soluti-
Friday shook his head. He got distracted too easy. “Ok, back to what I said! Set engines to e-burn, let's get OUT of here! Head straight to the warp point. Orin! Cecil!”
There was a small, bald man in front of a series of levers and blinking lights in the Wolf. For the transmission that carried over to the Mudskipper, there was a taller man with a disshelved mane of hair and beard. This was the Orin and Cecil that Friday referred to. They were brothers whom Friday had known for some time, and were well known mechanics in his hometown. He knew he could trust them when he could trust few other people, so he'd made sure to do what it took to get them to come with them. This moment was the pay off for all those hours spent begging them to come, offering them more and more of his meager startup cash until they finally agreed.
It was worth it.
Neither of them even responded verbally. Hands darted where they needed to go instantly. Almost before Ganymede finished his sentence, both ships lurched forward in bursts of extreme speed. He was almost thrown back into his captain's chair from standing, but Friday managed to steady himself. He quickly did take a seat and, much like the rest of his crews, buckled himself in for the ride. There was a ring around his neck, much like a necklace. He swiped his finger over a depression on it, and a nearly invisible field formed around his head. No one else in the crew noticed it, but in the event he was vented into space, this little object would keep Friday alive and floating until he could get pickup.
The good thing about a small fleet was speed. Friday probably could have purchased another ship or two in order to buffer out his chances of surviving direct combat in this situation, but first of all, Friday was not a fighter. Secondly, he wasn't sure how much a ship or two would make a difference in a fight against an experienced, well equipped military combatant. So he decided to stick with two ships. This too paid off. He thought he could almost hear the herald captain cursing to his crew as he left them in the dust.
In reality, that was one of his crew cursing. In fact, Friday was pretty sure that was Tom. Which meant that something looked pretty messed up. That meant nothing good.
“What! What's going on?”
“It's... it's *** burning towards us way too fast!”
“The *** are you talking- just put it on the bridge monitor, show me!”
A live feed blinked onto widescreen in center of the bridge of not behind the ship, as Friday had expected, but what looked to be starboard. There was very clearly one of the iconic bright red Dram tankers burning right towards his Mudskipper, No One Can Tell Me The Odds. It was also very clearly not on a refueling mission.
Internally, Friday was screaming. He had done everything right, everything the way you're supposed to do it! Why-
This was not the time.
“Tell them to keep on course in the Odds, it'll just follow them if they go off path until it rams them – and it makes it harder for us to hit it.”
Tom looked over at Friday. “What-”
“Orin, flip us around with the last of the e burn. Weapons team! Target the engines on that Dram and let our Reaper torpedo loose.”
Everyone hesitated. They weren't a military crew, they weren't trained to take orders without thinking. Friday read the room.
“Look, we don't have time! We have to try! Do it, please! Anyone has anything better, say it right this second! No? Good! Please, Orin, Tom!”
The clean cut man with glasses at the missile control station grimaced. He flipped a switch. “Torpedo primed and ready.”
Orin didn't say anything, as usual. Him and his brother were real silent types. It made Friday nervous sometimes. But, as usual, Orin didn't fail him. The ship began to turn.
Hopefully those critical seconds of hesitation weren't game changing. The dram tanker was much, much closer to the Odds.
“I have the shot!”
“T- this isn't a god damn movie Tom! *** take it!” Friday would have jumped out of his seat, but he was strapped in still. The straps cut into his throat, choking out his last words like a dog at the end of its leash.
The silvery tube streaked into view on the live feed. It moved far faster than either the tanker or the Mudskipper. Either the Luddic marauders on board didn't notice the torpedo, they noticed it too late, or the most scary thought- they simply didn't care. For one reason or another, the ship didn't budge from it's path to try and avoid the torpedo.
In a brilliant explosion, the objects collided. Bits of engine floated through space behind the tanker. Despite their best efforts to stop the tanker, inertia carried it forward at a more than dangerous speed. It spun through space towards No One Can Tell Me The Odds. They were going to collide. There was no way to stop it.
“Tranverse jump! No questions! Do it! Both ships!”
The ships both thrummed with energy as they charged up their trump card, one of the most illegal engine modifications in the civilized sector. It was Ganymede's last resort, period. He did not want anyone to know he had it. It would simply make his life more difficult. But, so would a heap of dead crew members. Screw it.
The last thing he saw before his ship blinked across the void was the collision of the two ships. He closed his eyes. A deep feeling of failure washed over him.
Outside of Kumari Kandom, the ships blinked back into existence. Everyone on bridge had already removed themselves quickly from their straps. They had gathered around the front of the bridge's main monitor, around Ganymede and his captain's chair. Many shot furtive glances at him.
“All cameras on No One Can Tell me The Odds, Tom.”
What they saw was not good.
No One Can Tell Me the Odds had almost made it. You could see it in the way that the gash ran all the way from its belly to the engine. It was eerie, to see it so empty. The crew that were vented must have been left before the transverse jump.
The crew murmured. Some were a little louder than a murder.
“Holy ***!”
“Friday, what the *** man! What the ***!”
“Do we know who made it?”
And so forth. Really, there weren't many people murmuring. Most of the crew was pretty upset.
Friday didn't let the mood sit. “Can we re-establish comms yet? Why are you not at your stations?”
The masses biting at him stopped. A few looked at each other. They shuffled back to their stations rather quickly.
“Comms re-established.”
Friday nodded. He spoke out loud. “Hey, Cecil? Celeste? Marion? Who's still there?”
Silence.
No one expected that. Friday didn't either. He shifted nervously in his seat.
“...Is anyone left?”
There was still no response.
Friday sat there for a minute. He felt everyone's eyes on him. So far, he had been quick. No hesitation. Even when, inside, he was screaming. This, this was a little much though. He had known some of those people his whole life. Cecil. He'd grown up with Cecil.
He looked over at Orin. He'd never seen that look on Orin's face before and Friday immediately didn't like it.
“Orin, I... I'm so sorr-”
For once, Orin spoke. He interrupted. “Friday... I hope my brother's life was worth your ten thousand credits.”
Friday almost met Orin's eyes, but couldn't. He looked to the floor.
Just when it almost became unbearable for the room, he looked at the rest of the crew. His voice came out a little hoarsely. He didn't mean for it to. He felt hot, though. So very hot.
“Send out a salvage crew to find what's usable... Then, we'll head to Sindria's home system, like we planned. No. I'll pick out the salvage team. Everyone, take some rest, I'll come to a few of you to help me with this.”
Everyone immediately shuffled out of the bridge. Except for Orin. Friday made sure he wasn't left alone with Orin. He immediately headed for his cabin.
Once inside, he shut the door. He thought for a second about those he lost. The price they paid. Friday stared at the hundreds of thousands of credits in his bank account. He smirked.
They would be the first soldiers that died for his empire.
10
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 01, 2021, 10:07:53 PM »
bethesda and obsidian have become the single most embarassing game companies ever anymore though
i mean dude how do go from making games like uhhh KOTOR 2 and NWN 2: mask of the betrayer to fallout 76
whats funny is i live in west virginia and our governor signed an executive order marking like fallout 76 day or something like that
press f to pay respects for us out here in the boonies
i mean dude how do go from making games like uhhh KOTOR 2 and NWN 2: mask of the betrayer to fallout 76
whats funny is i live in west virginia and our governor signed an executive order marking like fallout 76 day or something like that
press f to pay respects for us out here in the boonies
11
General Discussion / Re: this is the greatest game ever made
« on: February 01, 2021, 10:05:10 PM »
i think the graphics for Starsector are beautiful.
a lot of people to me get caught up in the Shenmue issue- they are willing to trade any semblance of a good game for "good graphics," but these graphics look hilarious in ten years.
However, video gaming is an art just like painting or composing a symphony, and committing to an aesthetic is more important than trying to be cutting edge. look at frigging Cyberpunk. i think i have 30-40 hours in it on Steam, i actually enjoy it, but like it is in no way a cutting edge game. now let's look at a REAL cyberpunk game, like Shadowrun: Dragonfall. the graphics are committed to an aesthetic and it absolutely grips you because once the devs had that aesthetic, they were able to focus on incredible story telling and gameplay and other things.
I think Alex has gone more the Shadowrun: Dragonfall route than the Cyberpunk 2077 route, as he is clearly a visionary more than you can get in a large company dedicated to profit margins and investors and it pays off. you get a timeless graphic aesthetic with ships that look cooler and more interesting than stellaris, which unfortunately has some of the most boring ship design in any 4x. if you're willing to spend 30 hours of your life *** around with basically making your own ship mods, GalCiv 2 has probably the most extensive ship creation system i've ever seen, but uhhh i like to actually play my game. starsector falls on a great spot in between the two extremes, where you have pretty extreme ship customization but not so much that you can't just hit "autofit" and start playing if you want. every ship is clearly identifiable. the top down graphics are something you dont see anymore and really play well to the game. pretty much every other space game looks the same to me except Starsector, which has its own aesthetic. kind of like how Breath of the Wild looked so much different from every rpg that now every rpg wants to be Breath of the Wild.
a lot of people to me get caught up in the Shenmue issue- they are willing to trade any semblance of a good game for "good graphics," but these graphics look hilarious in ten years.
However, video gaming is an art just like painting or composing a symphony, and committing to an aesthetic is more important than trying to be cutting edge. look at frigging Cyberpunk. i think i have 30-40 hours in it on Steam, i actually enjoy it, but like it is in no way a cutting edge game. now let's look at a REAL cyberpunk game, like Shadowrun: Dragonfall. the graphics are committed to an aesthetic and it absolutely grips you because once the devs had that aesthetic, they were able to focus on incredible story telling and gameplay and other things.
I think Alex has gone more the Shadowrun: Dragonfall route than the Cyberpunk 2077 route, as he is clearly a visionary more than you can get in a large company dedicated to profit margins and investors and it pays off. you get a timeless graphic aesthetic with ships that look cooler and more interesting than stellaris, which unfortunately has some of the most boring ship design in any 4x. if you're willing to spend 30 hours of your life *** around with basically making your own ship mods, GalCiv 2 has probably the most extensive ship creation system i've ever seen, but uhhh i like to actually play my game. starsector falls on a great spot in between the two extremes, where you have pretty extreme ship customization but not so much that you can't just hit "autofit" and start playing if you want. every ship is clearly identifiable. the top down graphics are something you dont see anymore and really play well to the game. pretty much every other space game looks the same to me except Starsector, which has its own aesthetic. kind of like how Breath of the Wild looked so much different from every rpg that now every rpg wants to be Breath of the Wild.
12
Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / Re: Friday Ganymede: Intergalactic Space Cocaine Smuggler
« on: February 01, 2021, 09:58:01 PM »
thanks man! it'll be up this week for sure 
glad you are enjoying it!
glad you are enjoying it!
13
General Discussion / this is the greatest game ever made
« on: January 31, 2021, 07:23:26 PM »
i bought this game on the Sseth video a while back and ive put so many hours into it, like probably several hundred. its pretty much better than stellaris, galciv 2, space empires V, masters of orion 2, x3- whatever space sim/4x you can name this one is the best, and its not even finished. Like what the hell. AAA gaming needs to set it up. ive got my friends hooked on this game too that have PCs.
idk just wanted to say that shoutout to Alex for making such an insane game 10/10
idk just wanted to say that shoutout to Alex for making such an insane game 10/10
14
Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / Friday Ganymede: Intergalactic Space Cocaine Smuggler
« on: January 31, 2021, 07:13:30 PM »
This is the story of how I sold tons of illegal space drugs to the Luddic Path and became space Pablo Escabar. i smoked way too much weed one night and came up with part one while pulling an all nighter for my job, i will post part two once the same thing happens again.
----------
The issue with using debris as cover when you're in a spaceship is that it tends to do a little more than scratch the paint on impact. Friday Ganymede sighed and calculated adjusted cost of repair in his head as every thud reverberated throughout his ship. While the cost of this particular negative aspect of the trip wasn't ruining his mood, he was coming to the realization of how stupid his plan was- and, well, that was ruining his mood. His sparse crew of a few friends, drinking buddies, and friends of drinking buddies could simply feel their captain's worsening mood. It was a mix of people who had no idea who he was and people who knew him far too well that created an awkward mood in which no one really spoke.
Undoubtedly, the situation would have been more enjoyable for everyone if the small trade group was burning hot towards their destination. However, it was well worth the time to not have the roaming Luddic patrols take note of two trade ships carrying four hundred kilos of synthetic cocaine from a Tri-Tachyon lab on Culann. His destination: Chalcedon, renowned gaia of the Luddic Path.
Everyone understood the stakes involved. The Luddic priesthood did not appreciate this kind of economic stimulus. Many traders who attempted this very route learned such lessons, and subsequently did not get the chance to really think on their last bit of education.
However, there was clearly a reason why many risked this journey. The supposed ascetics of the religious sect were insatiable when it came to modern hedonistic endeavors. More than that, no one really knows- the Luddic Path was one of the most secretive cabals in all of known space. Friday wouldn't be surprised if the Luddic Path was poisoning the drugs and then re-selling it to the youth of whomever their target happened to be. It could be anyone. The Luddic Path were not known for establishing friendly relations with the living. Friday did consider, however, that the most reasonable explanation was that there was a section of Luddites who simply did not enjoy memorizing the teachings of people that were nothing more than statues at this point. Instead, they enjoyed consuming massive amounts of cocaine to stay up for weeks on end to fuel their subversive intelligence programs, in which the most cutting edge extremists have learned to pose as political dissidents on internet forums and craft viral memes in order to destabilize target governments. This was, of course, the most blatant reason for ordering all these drugs, Ganymede was sure. Though, he did have a few other potential explanations, for anyone that had a few hours and some pen and paper to listen.
There is one thing that everyone on this mission believed that Friday Ganymede knew: that there were two types of traders who attempted to establish drug routes to the world of Chalcedon, old and bold. Old traders went dark and took three weeks to crawl from the inner jump point to dock if that's what it took. Bold traders rushed in and paid off patrols to make them look the other way. Eventually, the priesthood hears about this, one way or another. Ganymede was patient to the point some wondered if it was simply laziness; however, everyone trusted him to keep a cool head and make sure they didn't end up on a Luddic doctor's table with an ominous beeping coming out of their stomach. Additionally, Ganymede had fronted all the money, owned the two ships, and promised them significant pay. However, Friday was sure that these reasons were secondary to his experience and raw charisma.
Friday tapped a couple of fingers against his chair arm. He looked over at his ship's eyes, a chubby man whose helmet masked his entire head, and from which a thick cable protruded.
“Can we detect where their patrols are yet?” Friday asked.
The response was instant. “No. Stop asking.”
Friday didn't respond. He knew he was being pesky. He'd spent a lot of money making sure that the old sensor system of his Wolf frigate was ripped out and it was replaced with a long range system. He understood it well enough to know he wasn't being ripped off. Probably. Tom had reviewed the purchase and approved it before, and he was the one using the system now, so Friday was more confident than normal that he hadn't been ripped off this time. He tapped a display on his desk until he was connected to the intercom system of both of his ships.
“Well... it's been eight hours since we started passing the station ruins. We've been in the system longer, a day soon- let's... just relax. If the patrols pop up, we'll see them before they see us and we can outrun them and transverse jump if needed. Navigation team should stay on deck and rotate in shifts until we're out of the field and can automate the rest of our path. Maintenance team, just monitor for big holes and let's conserve supplies for now. Tom, set the sensors to trigger a fleet wide alarm if any mass moving faster than the debris is spotted. Other than that, do as you please until we reach Chalcedon as long as you mind the ships and not increasing our energy profile.”
The tension relaxed as much as it could. A few of the more serious minded crew members decided to man their stations instead of automating the tasks, but most of the crew took advantage of Friday's offer.
Somehow, the two ships made it to Chalcedon without incident or spotting Luddic Path patrols. Friday and his crew knew that luck such as this never lasted. It was best to do their business as quickly as possible and leave. Despite it being almost everyone's first time setting foot on a true terran world, they had no time to gawk, no time to sightsee. They were in one of the deadliest pits in the galaxy, and they weren't Hegemony military with war mechs to spew plasma at anyone who tried to prevent them from leaving.
Friday's ships pulled into orbit and knew not to go through the front door, as it may be described. The main dock of Chalcedon was not a busy place, but it was a highly guarded place, with a dozen scanners to fly through before you even get to land. There would be no hiding their cargo with this route.
This was planned for. In fact, the whole trip would not have been undertaken if Friday had not come across this crucial piece of information. He had become drinking buddies with one of the old traders who crossed this route many times, and after humoring the old man for six months, he thanked Friday for the kindness and passed him a datachip with only the words “Chalcedon” and a pair of coordinates. Months of stories left Friday with no need to ask what this meant.
The Wolf frigate and his Mudskipper descended through the atmosphere and into the night. They came down outside of the weak range of the Luddic Path's ancient ship detection system. It was a mountainous region, rife with trees. However, a very large clearing dominated the center of the coordinates. Even from the skies, Friday's crew sensed thousands of heat signatures, but received no alerts for any radar lock ons.
Everyone felt much at ease at this point. It turned out that Friday gambling all of their lives and his entire life savings - plus an enormous Tri-Tachyon loan – was about to be worth it.
Landing in the clearing, they were greeted by so-called Luddic acolytes. They seemed more reasonable than he expected. Really, they were just regular guys in this kind of situation. Regular guys that were extremely eager to put candy from the Culann tundra up their noses right before ramming an overfueled junker into the non-believer, but regular guys nonetheless. Friday found it funny that the crew and himself were so fearful of these guys. However, he didn't let his defenses down, and he didn't relent on his plan to charge them as much as possible.
"Five hundred credits a crate, four hundred ten if you buy every single bit of this," he said to the group's leader. The man Friday spoke to was huge and youthful, his eyes full of impertinence and ego. Friday expected a fight. That was almost enough to buy a shipment of mechs and tanks. He had stripped out everything in his little trading group in order to fit as many metric tons of drugs as he could in his cargo. He would get several hundred thousand credits if they bought it all, and he wasn't going to let them leave him with a single bump of powder. He was prepared to negotiate fiercely.
However, no such thing happened. "Sounds great! Go ahead and send the request to 'at bomb_boy_19' on Alipay.'"
Feeling a little miffed, Friday pulled out his smart comm and sent a funding request. He hated using Alipay. No one even knew where the company came from, but they controlled all remote, anonymous financial transactions in the sector and always had. He just hoped the money actually appeared. He also made a note that he needed to ask for more money next time. Friday knew that accepting his first offer without hesitation or internal debate meant the last guy charged them at least twice as much.
Despite this, as Friday watched the credits roll into his account and multiple commas appear, he felt he really couldn't complain. At all. Everything was working out like a dream. Morale was high among the crew. In a matter of minutes, the cargo bay doors of Friday's ships were closed and they were already taking back off for atmospheric exit.
There is simply no way it's this easy, Friday thought. There's no way I'm just rich now. If it was this easy...
Wisely, though, he refrained from getting too caught up in the simplicity of his success and pulled away from Chalcedon with engines on dark.
"Still no sign of patrols, Friday," Tom said. Friday rubbed his chin.
"Okay. Let's not get too eager. Just keep engines on dark and let's head to the nearest jump point. Survey the crew and see who wants to stay for the next jobs."
Tom paused. "Next jobs? You mean this isn't it?"
Ganymede smiled. "*** no, Tom! I'm going to take all of this money and invest it! Anyone who stays gets double pay."
Tom clearly liked that. So did everyone else in the bridge. A round of cheers erupted.
Everything was going so well.
A week later, when they were an hour from the jump point, everything fall apart.
----------
The issue with using debris as cover when you're in a spaceship is that it tends to do a little more than scratch the paint on impact. Friday Ganymede sighed and calculated adjusted cost of repair in his head as every thud reverberated throughout his ship. While the cost of this particular negative aspect of the trip wasn't ruining his mood, he was coming to the realization of how stupid his plan was- and, well, that was ruining his mood. His sparse crew of a few friends, drinking buddies, and friends of drinking buddies could simply feel their captain's worsening mood. It was a mix of people who had no idea who he was and people who knew him far too well that created an awkward mood in which no one really spoke.
Undoubtedly, the situation would have been more enjoyable for everyone if the small trade group was burning hot towards their destination. However, it was well worth the time to not have the roaming Luddic patrols take note of two trade ships carrying four hundred kilos of synthetic cocaine from a Tri-Tachyon lab on Culann. His destination: Chalcedon, renowned gaia of the Luddic Path.
Everyone understood the stakes involved. The Luddic priesthood did not appreciate this kind of economic stimulus. Many traders who attempted this very route learned such lessons, and subsequently did not get the chance to really think on their last bit of education.
However, there was clearly a reason why many risked this journey. The supposed ascetics of the religious sect were insatiable when it came to modern hedonistic endeavors. More than that, no one really knows- the Luddic Path was one of the most secretive cabals in all of known space. Friday wouldn't be surprised if the Luddic Path was poisoning the drugs and then re-selling it to the youth of whomever their target happened to be. It could be anyone. The Luddic Path were not known for establishing friendly relations with the living. Friday did consider, however, that the most reasonable explanation was that there was a section of Luddites who simply did not enjoy memorizing the teachings of people that were nothing more than statues at this point. Instead, they enjoyed consuming massive amounts of cocaine to stay up for weeks on end to fuel their subversive intelligence programs, in which the most cutting edge extremists have learned to pose as political dissidents on internet forums and craft viral memes in order to destabilize target governments. This was, of course, the most blatant reason for ordering all these drugs, Ganymede was sure. Though, he did have a few other potential explanations, for anyone that had a few hours and some pen and paper to listen.
There is one thing that everyone on this mission believed that Friday Ganymede knew: that there were two types of traders who attempted to establish drug routes to the world of Chalcedon, old and bold. Old traders went dark and took three weeks to crawl from the inner jump point to dock if that's what it took. Bold traders rushed in and paid off patrols to make them look the other way. Eventually, the priesthood hears about this, one way or another. Ganymede was patient to the point some wondered if it was simply laziness; however, everyone trusted him to keep a cool head and make sure they didn't end up on a Luddic doctor's table with an ominous beeping coming out of their stomach. Additionally, Ganymede had fronted all the money, owned the two ships, and promised them significant pay. However, Friday was sure that these reasons were secondary to his experience and raw charisma.
Friday tapped a couple of fingers against his chair arm. He looked over at his ship's eyes, a chubby man whose helmet masked his entire head, and from which a thick cable protruded.
“Can we detect where their patrols are yet?” Friday asked.
The response was instant. “No. Stop asking.”
Friday didn't respond. He knew he was being pesky. He'd spent a lot of money making sure that the old sensor system of his Wolf frigate was ripped out and it was replaced with a long range system. He understood it well enough to know he wasn't being ripped off. Probably. Tom had reviewed the purchase and approved it before, and he was the one using the system now, so Friday was more confident than normal that he hadn't been ripped off this time. He tapped a display on his desk until he was connected to the intercom system of both of his ships.
“Well... it's been eight hours since we started passing the station ruins. We've been in the system longer, a day soon- let's... just relax. If the patrols pop up, we'll see them before they see us and we can outrun them and transverse jump if needed. Navigation team should stay on deck and rotate in shifts until we're out of the field and can automate the rest of our path. Maintenance team, just monitor for big holes and let's conserve supplies for now. Tom, set the sensors to trigger a fleet wide alarm if any mass moving faster than the debris is spotted. Other than that, do as you please until we reach Chalcedon as long as you mind the ships and not increasing our energy profile.”
The tension relaxed as much as it could. A few of the more serious minded crew members decided to man their stations instead of automating the tasks, but most of the crew took advantage of Friday's offer.
Somehow, the two ships made it to Chalcedon without incident or spotting Luddic Path patrols. Friday and his crew knew that luck such as this never lasted. It was best to do their business as quickly as possible and leave. Despite it being almost everyone's first time setting foot on a true terran world, they had no time to gawk, no time to sightsee. They were in one of the deadliest pits in the galaxy, and they weren't Hegemony military with war mechs to spew plasma at anyone who tried to prevent them from leaving.
Friday's ships pulled into orbit and knew not to go through the front door, as it may be described. The main dock of Chalcedon was not a busy place, but it was a highly guarded place, with a dozen scanners to fly through before you even get to land. There would be no hiding their cargo with this route.
This was planned for. In fact, the whole trip would not have been undertaken if Friday had not come across this crucial piece of information. He had become drinking buddies with one of the old traders who crossed this route many times, and after humoring the old man for six months, he thanked Friday for the kindness and passed him a datachip with only the words “Chalcedon” and a pair of coordinates. Months of stories left Friday with no need to ask what this meant.
The Wolf frigate and his Mudskipper descended through the atmosphere and into the night. They came down outside of the weak range of the Luddic Path's ancient ship detection system. It was a mountainous region, rife with trees. However, a very large clearing dominated the center of the coordinates. Even from the skies, Friday's crew sensed thousands of heat signatures, but received no alerts for any radar lock ons.
Everyone felt much at ease at this point. It turned out that Friday gambling all of their lives and his entire life savings - plus an enormous Tri-Tachyon loan – was about to be worth it.
Landing in the clearing, they were greeted by so-called Luddic acolytes. They seemed more reasonable than he expected. Really, they were just regular guys in this kind of situation. Regular guys that were extremely eager to put candy from the Culann tundra up their noses right before ramming an overfueled junker into the non-believer, but regular guys nonetheless. Friday found it funny that the crew and himself were so fearful of these guys. However, he didn't let his defenses down, and he didn't relent on his plan to charge them as much as possible.
"Five hundred credits a crate, four hundred ten if you buy every single bit of this," he said to the group's leader. The man Friday spoke to was huge and youthful, his eyes full of impertinence and ego. Friday expected a fight. That was almost enough to buy a shipment of mechs and tanks. He had stripped out everything in his little trading group in order to fit as many metric tons of drugs as he could in his cargo. He would get several hundred thousand credits if they bought it all, and he wasn't going to let them leave him with a single bump of powder. He was prepared to negotiate fiercely.
However, no such thing happened. "Sounds great! Go ahead and send the request to 'at bomb_boy_19' on Alipay.'"
Feeling a little miffed, Friday pulled out his smart comm and sent a funding request. He hated using Alipay. No one even knew where the company came from, but they controlled all remote, anonymous financial transactions in the sector and always had. He just hoped the money actually appeared. He also made a note that he needed to ask for more money next time. Friday knew that accepting his first offer without hesitation or internal debate meant the last guy charged them at least twice as much.
Despite this, as Friday watched the credits roll into his account and multiple commas appear, he felt he really couldn't complain. At all. Everything was working out like a dream. Morale was high among the crew. In a matter of minutes, the cargo bay doors of Friday's ships were closed and they were already taking back off for atmospheric exit.
There is simply no way it's this easy, Friday thought. There's no way I'm just rich now. If it was this easy...
Wisely, though, he refrained from getting too caught up in the simplicity of his success and pulled away from Chalcedon with engines on dark.
"Still no sign of patrols, Friday," Tom said. Friday rubbed his chin.
"Okay. Let's not get too eager. Just keep engines on dark and let's head to the nearest jump point. Survey the crew and see who wants to stay for the next jobs."
Tom paused. "Next jobs? You mean this isn't it?"
Ganymede smiled. "*** no, Tom! I'm going to take all of this money and invest it! Anyone who stays gets double pay."
Tom clearly liked that. So did everyone else in the bridge. A round of cheers erupted.
Everything was going so well.
A week later, when they were an hour from the jump point, everything fall apart.
15
Mods / Re: [0.9.1a] Mayasuran Navy 8.3.0 RC2
« on: August 29, 2020, 03:34:26 PM »
when you play as the mayasuran navy in nexerellin faction why cant you directly control the worlds that you take for the mayasuran navy if youre the de facto leader of the homeworld? doesnt make any sense and kills it for me, i have to create my own faction to take control of the worlds and then *** off the mayasuran navy.
Pages: [1]