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WELCOME ABOARD THE SS NIRVANA!

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You are a mercenary or contractor exploring the fringes of our solar system. Perhaps you're a gun for hire or maybe a traveling doctor? You could be a professional smuggler or spy, possibly even an arms dealer or criminal lawyer. Whatever you do, your work is privately contracted away from the prying eyes of the inner worlds' tight rules and autocracy. This is where you can make the real money.

At the moment, you're working for Captain Octavius Jehnko, a charismatic young man who has assured you that going into business together will be lucrative. He's quite confident and connected for someone so young, and he's supplied you with the tools of your trade and given you your own private quarters on his ship, the SS Nirvana. Despite starting your journey in debt to him, he's been amenable and accommodating and also doesn't seem to ask questions about your past. Which is good for you.

Your teammates seem about as unscrupulous as you and you get the feeling you're among rejects, refugees, outlaws, fugitives, scoundrels, and criminals alike. But the team seems to be very effective thus far.

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You've recently gotten word that Captain Jehnko (aka "Lance") wants everyone to meet in the mess hall for an important announcement. You have a few minutes to sort out your quarters, do some research, get something to eat, socialize, explore, etc. before the meeting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Mon 14 Aug 2023.

R-Chi1 looked about his very small quarters after finishing his 48 minute a day recharge. There was a small window and bunk, which was untouched. There was also a standing locker for personal possessions, of which 'Archie' had none.

This makes me...processing...sad.

He sent another email to Valerys Corvo. He inquired how she was doing, her health, and if it was possible to get in touch with Dr Emily Kessler. His creator, aka-'mother' as she preferred to be called. His syntax program told him he should state Dr Kessler HAD wished to be called Mother, as she was quite dead.

However, that was the key issue upon contacting Corvo. She had claimed to other shipmates that she could communicate with the dead. Of course, the research on all such humans who claimed so where actually frauds. Praying on grieving people for money and access.

Despite that, 'Archie' had an emotional subroutine which told him he was grieving. As a result he once asked about a possible session with Corvo about speaking with Dr Kessler. 'Val' had not replied the first two emails he had sent. He waited the customary 25 hours and 36 minutes between such messages, in order not to appear pushy. However, custom time seemed to be not anything he could source as official.

Was he in error? Should he have waited 48 hours and 36 minutes? Longer? He was unsure. Maybe Corvo's email was malfunctioning.

As chief computer officer to the ship's A.I., he knew her email was fine. He could review anyone's email he wanted, but had been told this was not acceptable unless ordered so by the captain. He wanted to serve on this ship, as it helped him achieve several of his primary goals all at once.

In any case, N.O.D., the ship's core computer identity, was always accessible to him due to the computer brian that housed his own data core. N.O.D. had a more developed personality that Archie did, which suggested its emotional subroutine was fully functional. Unlike his. It had not been helpful in trying to correct the errors in his own processing, as it did not understand Dr Kessler's odd programming language.

So, once again, the need to speak to Val Corvo was most present in his central processing. He had been most fortunate to find this ship and someone who could talk to dead people. The odds where literally trillions to one. Assuming the most likely outcome of her being a fraud was not the case.

His internal clock showed the time, and he adjusted his ship's uniform that he had been issued. Then he proceeded to head to the mess hall, as per the captain's orders. He had finished one of the backups of his entire memory and secured it in his locker. There was nothing else to do, other than review Cat posters to hang upon said locker. He had been informed this would make him...happy. He had serious questions about that emotional subroutine.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:44, Mon 14 Aug 2023.

Gill yawned and stretched as he woke up. NOD let him know about the meeting. He shrugged, Lance wasn't really in charge anyway, NOD was and only Gill knew it. The absurdity of the whole thing made him act in a similar fashion. He grabbed the big hat off his wall among a collage of knickknacks and worthless choochkies that he cherished. He put the hat on, representing his alter ego Turd Ferguson. He didn't bother to change out of his one-piece long red underwear, but he does put on a pair of cowboy boots and brushed his teeth before heading into the hallways.

R-Chi1's door was closed which usually meant he was still in that closet of his. Gill went over and pounded on the door, "Yo! "R" let's go harass people." He didn't wait for R though, he headed on down the corridor to his favorite target, Valerys. He rapped his trade mark knock and said, "Helloooooo Nurse." This is a reference from some cartoons he loves, Animaniacs, and something he says no matter which of his alter egos he is currently occupying. He pressed his face against the door, folding the hat, "Oh ba-abay. Ain't nuthin in the world like a brown eyed girl make me act so funny make me spend my money." He knocked again, "Please Louise, pull me off my knees. Jack, get back, C'mon before we crack. Everybody cut footloose!" He backed up a step and spun on his toes before heading to Skip's room.

He banged on Skip's door, "Yo! Peanut butter, we gotta rap with the Captain, wake up ya big lug."

Next Andre's door, stating with his trademark knocking, "Ray...RAY! Get up Ray, I need my coffee!" Ray is the only one who can make coffee to Gill's liking.

Edwin had stowed his meager personal object in his cabin earlier. Wasn't like there was much to keep track of. Some old photos, a couple of books and a few changes of clothing.

He was currently lounging in the mess hall enjoying a cup of Morning Sun tea and flipping through a copy of Magston's Technical Reviews. The magazine was several months out of date and filled with plenty of techno babble. Some he understood, others not so much, but he liked to keep fresh on such things might have to impress someone, someday.

He could hear someone back toward the crew quarters, sounded like Gill, or Ferguson, or whatever ID he was sporting this morning. He wondered if it was all an act or if the man had a serious psych problem.

He had a cousin who had gotten formal schooling in the inner worlds and sometimes messaged him about fancy parties and making a new kind of lightbulb.

His half shouted ranting could be heard well away from his quarters where he was testing out installing this light bulb that his cousin had sent him. "Sandra... Who cares?! It is a damned lightbulb. One of the original ones is STILL lit in that forsaken museum that used to be some kind of... Local emergency response unit barracks. That means that for a VERY long time people have made lightbulbs WORSE than the prototypes! It is because of expensive, narrow-minded, short-sighted, pinheads like you that starship technologies are stagnating!"

He adjusted the fixture and checked his tablet as a comfortable hue expanded gently into the room. "Damn. It IS a better lightbulb! Fine," this last bit was significantly subdued. He wouldn't call her a stupid pinhead anymore.

His work was here, NOD was amenable to his tinkering as long as he had proofs to show it should improve things, and while he didn't understand Gill even as much as he understood others apparently the cowboy needed coffee and it wasn't a bad idea to get it started before the meeting - for everyone. He entered some data while he moved through the passage(s) to the mess hall.