I was actually thinking a type of character that is as close to captain space cowboy, smuggler, good guy at heart type of character class

With GURPS, there are no character classes. You have a set number of points (150, in this case) to allocate to your character's attributes and skills. With those tools, you can shape your character's skills, abilities, quirks, and so on to fit your desired persona.

It's easier with a character builder; there are several available for GURPS 4e.

Okay this is hoot. Like I said won't really be able to get started on this till next week. Is the only content allowed the 4e gurps traveler book? Or does this also include other 4e gurps books.

As long as it fits within the Traveller universe, and within the living conditions, it's fine. For example, saying that you worked on an ocean liner wouldn't be possible, since there are no planets with oceans in this star system.

So atmospheric flyer skills wouldn't be available either?

There are some habitats large enough to fly ultralights, hang gliders, and similar craft inside. They don't allow larger aircraft, though.

Not like I was going to fly something so flimsy.  A manly ship for me!  :)

Oh, of course! :-)

OK, I cant figure out how to make a character. Joe, I need some help. I tried to use the GCS that you linked in the other thread but I cant figure that out either.

Please help me make my character...

NP - check your email..
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:49, Mon 18 Apr 2016.

OOG: I've been sitting on this for a few days now, and I just have to post it :-)

Date: 32/IV/1402
Location: Entering Jora’s M-ring

“Prepare for freefall,” the automated message intones over the public address system. A moment later, you feel the ship’s engines stop, and you float upward from the deck. “At least we got to finish our meal this time,” one of the ship’s technicians grumbles. She collects her tray and kicks off from her seat, aiming for the galley’s rear bulkhead. She shoves the tray through the small window, and, rotating her body with practiced grace, kicks off again on a trajectory for the mess compartment’s main hatch.

The three-month voyage of the freighter Daiidkhun is nearly at an end, bringing food, medical supplies, and other goods to an outpost in Jora’s inner rings. The gas giant’s rings are a rich source of water ice, ammonia, and other sorely needed commodities. It is also a very long way from the asteroid belt, and has little to recommend it as a pleasant place to visit. There wasn’t much to recommend the Daiidkhun as a place to work, either.

Jana Gakuali, the Daiidkhun’s master, was a cold, petty woman – and those were her good points. She had a habit of foisting her duties onto her officers, and then criticizing their work when any questions came up from the home office. She also tended to play favorites, and it was a mystery how she was able to retain her position after a dozen years as captain.

Gareth contemplates slinking off to his quarters. He was here to maintain a low profile having borrowing a few too many identies after all. Being terminated for failing to perform his duties could also be problematic so Gareth elects to bark a few orders before wandering towards his station (bridge?).

"Well don't just float there! Get to your stations.Especially you Malcom Solo. I've got my eyes on you"

Singling out a random crew member was sure to create the impression that Gareth was keeping a close eye the ship's crew.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Wed 27 Apr 2016.

"Understood." He mutters to the Second Officer.

Malcolm, not one to disobey an order, gathers his belongings and makes his way through the corridors to the cargo hold.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Mon 02 May 2016.

The cargo hold is located in the accommodations section, forward of the massive cargo containers arrayed along the ship's spine. These containers are pressurized, but they can only be accessed by using a vacc suit. The internal cargo bay is approximately 4 meters tall, and has cargo doors on the port and starboard sides.

The ship is in freefall, so the only way to move about is by using handholds or push sticks. Every crew member carries a collapsible stick, two meters long when extended. One can push off with it, and rotate it like a propeller to change orientation.

OOG: Think of a helicopter rotor - the blades spin one way, and force the fuselage in the opposite direction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:47, Tue 03 May 2016.

OOG: Moving on a bit to the early morning hours of the following day. There are six watches in a ship's day, with the First beginning at 0600 ship's time each morning.

Date: 32/IV/1402

Brent is on the first of his two watches for the night, and the third for the day. The captain had turned Third watch over to him with no warning, and no explanation. It was a depressingly familiar scenario, and Brent's eyes are heavy with fatigue. He is the only officer on the bridge, whom he is sharing with a young petty officer. He can't seem to recall her name at the moment, but he remembers that this is her first cruise with the company. She is sitting at her helm station, also working the first half of a double watch.

Everyone else is asleep at the moment.

The ship's computer is more than capable of safely navigating the gas giant's rings, especially given that, unlike in holovids, the components of actual asteroid belts and rings are widely scattered, and not clumped together. Their destination is still four days' flight away, and the ship will begin it's approach deceleration burn in eighty-one hours.

A soft tone sounds on the helm console, and a display changes on Brent's smaller repeater built into his command chair's displays.

"What the hell?" the petty officer says quietly.

Brent stifled a yawn as he floated just above the commanding officer's acceleration couch, held in place only loosely by a single strap.  He'd needed the work after mustering out of the service and finding that berths were rare for one who didn't have the extensive contacts among the merchant captains and ship owners.  Brent had plenty of time in free fall deep in the system, far deeper than even they were going now. But it didn't matter terribly much that he was a natural spacer, skilled as a deck officer, with the engines and power plants or even ship's weaponry.  What mattered was who you knew and what they owed you or your friends or family.  Brent hadn't made those contacts having spent his long years out near the Oort cloud rather than aboard the web of merchant ships that wove the mesh of commerce that kept the scattered habitats prosperous and alive.  That was why he was serving aboard the Daiidkhun under captain Gakuali and it was a measure of her unpopularity and ill reputation that he'd been appointed as First Officer.

He sucked on a bulb of coffee brewed strong and bitter.  Brent eschewed sugar and anything else to cut the taste, preferring to use the caffeinated beverage to keep him awake.  The watch was quiet and routine, something Brent had experienced since his teens.  Still, death lurked in every corner in space and he struggled to stay active and alert, not always successfully...

Brent is about to strike up a conversation with the young petty officer but the soft beeping interrupts the silent routine.  Reflexes took over and Brent leaned forward to examine his repeater.  "Check the sensors and comms, make sure there is nothing on a collision course," he called out automatically even as the rush of adrenaline brought him to full consciousness.

"Aye, Sir," she responds instantly, then a couple of heartbeats later, "confirmed no collision threats, and nothing on comms." She takes a breath. "Sorry, Sir, I just got a strong lidar hit off that asteroid's companion."

Brent's repeater display shows the asteroid, a chunk of rock some six kilometers in diameter, with a smaller rock, scarcely larger than the Daiidkhun herself, orbiting about a hundred kilometers above its surface. The target, whatever it is, shows as a bright spot on the smaller asteroid, at a range of eighty-one kilometers. A side display shows that the Daiidkhun can decelerate to rest with the target in ten minutes at point two gees of accel.

Brent leans forward and brings up the display.  "That's odd, something that bright might be artificial.  Give it a closer scan and use the radar as well.  I'm going to see if there are records of anything out here."  While she performs the scan Brent will check through the shipping and historical records (such as they might have) to see if anything is or was out that way.

"Aye, Sir." The petty officer brings up the ship's main radar array, and steers the nearest antenna's beam to light up the target. Whatever it is, it's not a rock. The return reminds Brent of how the derelict ships he'd found appeared on radar and lidar. The records check reveals two known shipwrecks in these rings, but they were in a totally different area.

Brent's navigation repeater shows that he has another two minutes before he will no longer be able to match vectors with the target.

"Slave the exterior cameras to the radar contact and go to maximum zoom miss Lui.  Let's see if anything is visible."  He brought up the navigation displays and quickly calculated an intercept course.  He had a few moments to at least see the what might show on the video before contacting the captain and decelerating the ship.

Lui slews the camera nearest to the target bearing around and zooms it to maximum resolution. "I don't know what it is, but it's not a rock, Sir."

OOG: See Game Map 1.

Brent nods.  "No, it's a ship or station of some sort and nothing I recognize.  Get this all on the record and enter it into the log."  He pressed the maneuvering alarm button sending a klaxon call through the ship.  "Stand by for maneuvering, all hands to stations."

Then he activated the engines to decelerate the ship and bring them alongside the object.  Once the engines were firing he called the captain. "Ma'am, we've picked up some kind of derelict object.  I've initiated a maneuver to bring us alongside."

"Aye, Sir" Lui busies herself at her console as the ship's computer executes Brent's helm commands. The ponderous cargo ship answers her helm and slews on her thrusters to the correct attitude for the commanded vector change. Petty Officer Lui watches the autopilot's projected course carefully, not taking direct control of the vessel just yet.

It takes nearly two minutes for the ship to align itself properly, and then the main fusion engines flare to life. Brent feels himself settle into his couch under nearly a third gee of acceleration. The navigation displays show the relative vectors moving to match as the ship vibrates gently under the power of her engines.

Back in the officers and crew quarters, the maneuvering alarm, while not the same tooth-twisting howl of the emergency alarms, is more than enough to awaken everyone.

Standard procedure is for everything to be secured for acceleration, but a loud clatter and a muffled curse sounds outside Malcolm's stateroom door.

Gareth also hears the alarm as it yanks him rather rudely awake.

Brent monitored the reaction of the ship and particularly the engines as he trusted the navicomp more than the thrusters.  He put the imagine of the object up on the main screen in the bridge.  As he did so he buckled himself into the acceleration couch more securely.

Gareth awakens for what should have been a pleasant nap. Annoyance turned to grave concern as it dawns on him that some kind of external threat may threatening the ship, and more importantly Gareth. Casting aside thoughts of escape pods for the moment Gareth tries to make it to the bridge in time to secure himself and observe his imminent destruction.