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  2. John Williams

    Questions about our group

    Excellent. I keep being more and more impressed with the depth of this simm community. Love it.
  3. Today
  4. TUMAR II — Invited to a targ hunt by old friend Counselor Dempok, the crew of Starbase 118 soon learned there was more to the party than first met the eye. The crew of Starbase 118 received an invitation from an old friend, Counsellor Dempok, whose warbird and quick action helped them survive the battle that destroyed the USS Albion. Invited to join him on Tumar II for a targ hunt, Captain Taybrim quickly suspected there were ulterior motives to the invitation. Arriving on Tumar II, the crew were treated to a party and introduced to the sport of targ hunting – a bloody and competitive chase, where opposing teams are encouraged to beat one another as they are out to hunt targs in the forest. “We find there is much more sport in targ hunting if it’s fraught with peril,” explained Choresh, member of the hunting society. “‘IwlIj jachjaj!” The crew split into teams, consolidating their efforts to accomplish additional objectives. Captain Taybrim, Lieutenant Commander Trel’lis, Lieutenant Commander Aitas, and Lieutenant Commander Elspeth accompanied the Counsellor into the wilderness, and Taybrim found his hunch regarding the motives behind the invitation to be correct. Lieutenant Valentino led a team to explore ruins in the jungle that were emitting strange signals, facing the dangers of the Tumarian jungles. Doctor Nijil’s team took off in pursuit of targs, and Lieutenant Kasun soon derailed her own team when she believed that her lost brother, Taelon, might be present on Tumar II. Meanwhile, new arrivals boarded the USS Narendra, ready to join the surface teams on their adventures – Ensigns Avran, Daniels, Tullus, Laxan, and Off. Written by Elspeth The post Starbase 118 accompanies Klingons on targ hunt appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  5. Roshanara Rahman

    Questions about our group

    Yes, anything written by our members for the FNS is considered part of our universe's extended world building and can be considered public knowledge and referenced in your sims. In fact, this is encouraged and one of the intended uses of the FNS itself.
  6. John Williams

    Questions about our group

    A question: i stumbled upon the federation news service, and wonder, is anything that is written there considered canon in the simm, and public knowledge?
  7. Yesterday
  8. @Daniel Cain ((Tactical Holodeck 1, Deck 3, USS Apollo-A)) ::For the past 2 weeks Cain had not spent a minute idle. After the Twitchy Lieutenant JG had put him in charge of the AP Section of Security, he'd read up on everything he could. After 2 weeks he still wasn't done with it all but reckoned he had most of the priorities looked over. He'd started with the Borg and Voyagers encounter with them. When it came down to it Admiral Janeway was a genius when it came to killing these guys. What interested him most was the Elite Force that had been put together to combat threats like these. He read up on those missions in detail, wondering if the same could be done here on this ship. They were going to be out here longer than Voyager was anyway so why not? That idea was a long way off anyway, he still had so much to take in.:: ::Next on his list was the Hirogen. Brutal, efficient killing machines. Again, all information he could find came from Voyagers interactions. How had their society evolved since the last interaction with Voyager? Had they settled somewhere or did they still hunt? Cain believed the latter and even theorised they'd come up with new ways to kill. He surmised it would be interesting to meet one in a fight.:: ::The list seemed endless. Species 8472, Kazon, Krenim, Hierarchy, Malon. There were so many and others that were unknown. He read up on different tactics used by each and how they fought. When it got down and dirty, that information may save his life one day.:: Cain: K'MAARRA, LEFT FLANK! SECOND SQUAD COVER! ::The Caitian leapt up from her firing position from behind a rock and began moving to a rocky outcropping on her left about 50m away. As she ran crouched over, fire rained in from behind her to the enemy position to cover her. She moved with a speed befitting of Caitians, which is why he'd told her to move. Her black fur shook from running. She hit the rocks with her shoulder as she got there and started returning fire. The Hirogen, seeing one of their prey separated from the main body, charged the rock to surround her from both sides. This is what Cain was hoping for.:: Cain: FIRST SQUAD, NOW! ::Cain had placed First Squad up high, on the top of a high ridge that overlooked the rock K'Maarra was behind. As the Hirogen came around, both squads hit in the cross fire. Phaser Rifle beams and Pulse Phaser fire shot in, dropping body after body. Within minutes, the whole enemy force had been killed, bodies surrounding the panting Caitian.:: Cain: Squads, pull it in. ::As the 10 members of his security force started to move towards him, Cain couldn't help but think something was still off about the programming. He come up with these exercises himself after reading the after action reports from Voyager but he didn't think in reality a Hirogen hunting force would just run into an obvious trap. He made a note to check in with someone to see if they could improve on the A.I. of the enemy combatants. However he wasn't going to reveal that to his teams.:: Cain: Good job everyone, although some did get in close enough to K'Maarra to give her a stand up fight. How was it? K'Maarra::Grinning but still breathing heavily.:: Walk in the park sir Cain: Good. Don't let it go to your head though... ::He looked around.::…. and that goes for all of you too. These are basic simulations of the type of enemies we might face out here. I'm sure the real thing will be more of a challenge but its all good practise. ::They all looked half serious but in a good way. Each of them knew it would be harder in reality and looked like they welcomed the challenge. Cain had come to respect the crew he'd been working with and had managed to get past he feeling they were all wrong in some way to actually enjoy their company.:: Cain: Dismissed. Go get cleaned up and keep studying your files. I don't think we are ever going to finish them but keep going at it. Computer, end program. ::They all wandered towards the exit as the environment disappeared to reveal bulk heads and emitters. Some had even made it out the door.:: Computer: Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. ::Cain saw everything darken and a red hue illuminated the corridors out side the tactical Holodeck. The people already out the door jogged back in. He addressed everyone.:: Cain: Ok you know the drill. Lets get armed and ready. This may be the first time this has happened out here but it certainly won be the last. ::As Cain was jogging out with his teams his Comm Badge chirped.:: Fairhug: =/\= Fairhug to Lieutenant Cain and Ensigns Malko and Maro, please hand off any work you are doing to another member of staff and make your way to the Captain's Ready Room. =/\= Cain: =/\= Yes Commander. =/\= ::Cain stopped and K'Maarra stopped with him. He started jogging in the other direction, toward the turbolift. He shouted over his shoulder.:: Cain: Sort them out Ensign. ::She nodded and resumed her course at a faster rate. Cain ran into the turbolift, breathing lightly.:: Cain: Bridge. ::As an after thought, Cain remembered he was holding his rifle. Shrugging he strapped it to his back with the sling he had with it.:: oO Never know, may come in useful Oo ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Apollo-A)) ::Cain walked onto the Bridge and crossed the vast space to the Captains ready room. Everyone was busy assessing what was going on. Cain nodded to the Commander as he caught his eye and gave him a questioning look. The Commander answered indirectly.:: Fairhug: Ensign D'fini, have a look at the archives. Is there any reason the Hierarchy would have for attacking the Talaxians like this? oO Hierarchy? Really? Not their MO Oo ::He looked over at D'fini and smiled. He always did when he saw her. He hadn't had time to speak to her properly after their initial meeting. He assumed she was busy like himself that he hadn't even thought about it. Still, something about her put him at ease. Cain chimed the door as D'fini answered but didn't take it in. The door immediately opened and Cain stepped into the room. He found the Admiral beyond. The door closed behind him but a second later opened again. Cain groaned inwardly. The annoying Ensign. The Admiral made a gesture towards the sofa and the other two sat down. Cain remained standing. The Rifle on his back would make for an awkward seating position.:: Renos: Something about this stinks and unfortunately, we’re going in blind. So tell me, what do you know about the Hierarchy? Cain: Only what I've read in Voyagers files Sir Malko: In the spirit of honesty, I have only the basic combat training and a hostile rescue situation with Atlantis under my belt - which I don't know if I've fully processed, yet. What did you have in mind for me, Captain? ::Cain kept his face neutral but was groaning again inside. He found himself doing that a lot lately with people in blue collars.:: oO That's it, make your CO doubt you from the off Oo Renos: Mr Malko, I have no doubt about your abilities or your training. I appreciate that it's a difficult mission you’ve gone through. Having only limited data right now, it’s hard to say how our resources will be utilised. Best case scenario, we drive the Hierarchy away before too much damage is done. Worst case scenario we may have to send search and rescue parties to evacuate New Talax. What I do know, is that this is a traumatic event for the Talaxians. There will be people in direct need of your expertise, so tell me now if you feel you may not be able to handle any task that may be required of you. Malko: Response Renos: Very well. For now, let’s focus on the Hierarchy. What else do we know about them? ::Cain spoke first.:: Cain: Nothing beyond Voyagers files. They Micromanage to an extent that if they need to use the head they need to see if its worth their time. A full scale planetary attack is not their style unless there is a massive gain from such an expensive and resource consuming activity. If there is, im surprised no one picked up on their spying before hand as they must have been at it weeks to plan it in such miniscule detail. Maro/Malko: Response ::Renos nodded, thinking the response's through apparently.:: Renos: Well it begs the question - was this a stealth assault gone wrong? Were they uncovered prematurely by the Talaxians? Did they underestimate their target? Or what about an evolution of their tactics? Cain: I would go against an evolution in tactics. A society micromanaged from the top has people that will not want to give that up. If this is a genuine attack, this is still going to have been weighed and measured by these top guys and the Talaxians may be in a lot more trouble than we realise. Renos: Then perhaps it was desperation. Does anyone have any theories about why they might be attacking or what they may be after? Malko/Maro: Response Cain: Or maybe they are moving out this way because something worse is on the other side of their territory.
  9. Ayiana

    Jo "Blondie" Marshall

    (( Sickbay, Skarbek )) ::Despite the conversations in the room, somehow it was still quiet. Jo watched as Erin lay in between Quinn and 'Kos, hands held across all three, creating a physical scaffolding to support the mental connection. She tilted her head as Erin closed her eyes. The affirmations from the Doctors of placative assurance, that everything would be OK, hadn't settled her mind any. She wanted to believe them, but life was rarely fair, and friends often died.:: Yiggtissi: OK, let’s begin. Needles, activate the monitors. ::The connected display units illuminated above the biobed loungers, presenting the cortical scans for monitoring purposes. There were facts and figures, a trio of brains that protruded from the screens into holographic three-dimensional imagery. Synaptic pathways lit up as they wound through the grey matter, like tree roots growing under the earth.:: Sim: See you... on the... other side… ::Dense silence overtook the clinic, permeated by the occasional sound of disjointed beeps from the computers. The Saurian remained close to the triad, tricorder in hand, always monitoring for slight changes or telltale signs of distress. Jo shifted on her feet and worried the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth, following the slowly pitching lines on the monitors like the crest and trough of waves in the sea. Finally, the undulating ripples smoothed into synchronicity.:: Sterling: They’re entering deep sleep. Yiggtissi: ::His eyes focused on his tricorder.:: How are we looking, Iriin? Changes? Sterling: No, nothing yet. Yiggtissi: Ok. Begin the neural interface, keep an eye on their acetylcholine levels. Let me know if you see a peak in Corticotropin. I will monitor their Cortisol levels from here. ::Corticotropin rang a bell in some distant drafty hallway of Jo's mind. Instead of delving into the chimes, she crossed her arms, started to chew slivers of her thumbnail off, and found herself looking at Walter. The man was near impossible to read, like flattened braille, and she followed his studious gaze to the monitors above Quinn. Not for the first time that day, she wondered about his plans. Her attention returned to the Doctors - Needles busy with her monitoring, the Saurian doing the same, his dark eyes a mystery, then he looked up at the Bear.:: Yiggtissi: Capt’n, I’m not sure what is going on here but if it hadn’t been for you taking a chance with us, Genkos and I would probably still be in that bar on Alpha Minervus. Brunsig: Response Yiggtissi: I just wanted to say that it has been a pleasure. ::That was the other enigma glaring at them from the umbrae. If this was all a dream, some baroque blend of brain bewitchery, what had her life been up to that point? She had clear memories, more than she cared to. A fragment of her heart wanted it to be real - to "wake up" and for this dream to be the product of an undercooked mushroom stew, to go home to her bike and Erin's billion plants. ::Realigning her mind to the present, she watched the hybrid breathing for a moment, and said the first thing that came into her head.:: Marshall: I wonder what they're seeing in there. ::The words had barely left her mouth before their Saurian Doctor collapsed to the floor, curling into the foetal position in the cramped space. His body shook, arms and legs kicking out in all directions. Jo dropped to the floor beside him, placing her hand on the side of his ribs, feeling his swift and shallow breath. Another kick from his long leg landed into a cabinet door, denting the metal on impact. ::Jo jumped back out of the way as his arms punched the air around him, battling an invisible enemy, then all at once he folded in on himself, tucking in his limbs close, like a human baby would to retain heat. In a second, he had jolted back awake, dark eyes wide and shining under the Sickbay lights. Between them, Jo and Walter helped him to the chair.:: Yiggtissi: I-What happened? Marshall: You dropped like a shot targ. Take your time coming back. Brunsig: Response Yiggtissi: I think I just went through my birth. But all of you were there, in Starfleet uniforms. Brunsig: Response ::It had been a long time since she had been in the uniform of the Federation's military branch and even longer for the German. She looked up at Walter, her question as unanswerable as it felt.:: Marshall: What does any of this mean? ::The unsteady Saurian wobbled back to the triplicated biobeds and leaned on them for support.:: Yiggtissi: I don’t know but if we don’t figure this out soon, I’m afraid the entire crew could get lost in these hallucinations. ::The crackle of the intercom speakers sounded above their heads and a disembodied voice, or voices, started to speak over one another in quick succession.:: Skarbek: =/= Enlistment to the Skarbek Sanitarium. Collect your uniform from the third cat on the right. Please keep your hands and organs inside the ride at all futures, pasts and presents. Throw the lampshade into the volcano and dance like a lemur in a negligee. Casino night is every Sunday that occurs twice in a roundabout. Hahahahaha... =/= Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response ::Jo felt something wriggling in her pocket and stuck her hand inside, dragging out a tribble. Another spurted forth from the cabinet with the Saurian boot dent, rolled across the floor and started to shimmy. Then it split, multiplying itself like miniature furry amoebas until the floor was a jive scene of dancing tribbles. Jo sneezed into her hands and looked down at her palms to find a tiny Klingon with a bat'leth, who then elegantly swan-dived from her fingers into the pile of tribbles. ::She looked up at Walter and Yiggs, still holding her palms together, not suite sure how to interpret what was going on.:: Marshall: I've never sneezed in Klingon before. Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response Skarbek: =/= Warning, unknown vessel on approach. Warning, beacon has been intercepted. ::A radio voice.:: And hereeeeeeee's Trellium-D with that all new catchy verse... ::Song starts playing, crooner voice.:: I've got you, under my skin. I've got youuuu, deep in the heart of me. ::Normal voice.:: Warning, warning, warning, warning. Bondage rhymes with hostage. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with bondage? Neurotoxin. Silver syringes will drop in succession from the bow of the cube. Do not be fooled by the dog. It is infinite. =/= ::There was a faint tap on her shoulder - just enough to be felt hitting her shirt - then the trickle of water running down the back of her arm. Jo looked down at the splodge of wet fabric, then up to the ceiling. A single track of water ran across the mottled roof, and then the walls and floor began to shake.:: Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response ---- Jo "Blondie" Marshall Maquis Resistance Fighter The Skarbek simmed by Lieutenant Jocelyn Marshall Chief Operations Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0
  10. John Williams

    official Arrival at StarBase 118 - introduce your character here!

    John exited the turbolift, into the bustle of the promenade. He was 32 years old, standing at 183 centimeters tall. His hair was cut in a short buzzcut, and he was muscular. If anything, he looked more like a Marine then Starfleet. This was in fact true. He had exchanged his Marine uniform for a Starfleet one, wanting a change of pace. He had chosen the medical field because of a desire to heal, as opposed to hurt people. Straightening his uniform, he headed left, towards one of the large viewports. Having some time to kill, he looked out at space, and the various starships that were docked at the starbase. Sensing someone approach him, John turned around to see his old sergeant, sgt. Johnson standing there."Sarge..." He simply said as he nodded to him. "John!" He exclaimed with a chuckle."I didn't believe it untill now. Joining starfleet...."He shook his head."And the medical field no less....Damn. Don't have the stomach for combat anymore eh?" He said laughing. John simply stood there, listening to the insulting remark."Sarge....shut up, and leave me alone.." he said after a while, his eyed smoldering. "My decision is made. I want to save lives, not destroy them. Not anymore. Not after..." He fell silent, and turned to the window once again, ignoring his old sarge. Deep in thought, John didn't even notice his sarge had left untill his combadge chirped. "Cadet Williams, report to holodeck 23 for your training." "Acknowledged." He said, before heading that way."Semper fi.." he muttered as he headed there, to his new life.
  11. Last week
  12. Each month we interview a First Officer or Commanding Officer of the fleet as part of our “First Officer in Focus” and “Captain’s Corner” columns to get to know them better, and learn more about what their positions entail. This month, we’re interviewing the First Officer of the starship Columbia, Lieutenant Commander Jarred Thoran, a human male. He was last interviewed in December, 2017, as part of our “Lower Decks” column of interviews. SHAYNE: You’ve been a part of a few interviews, so avid readers of these close ups will be familiar with your basics. Nevertheless, for the benefit of those newer members of our community, could you tell us a little bit about where you hail from? THORAN: I’m Richard. Originally from the UK, but have spent the past and a bit years in Germany where i’m now training to be a police helicopter pilot. You’ve been here a little more than a year, and in that time you’ve become one of the strongest and most enthusiastic pillars of our community, using your many talents and unimpeachable commitment for the benefit of the fleet as a whole. Training team, staff member, graphics wizard, wiki gnome… what inspires you to take on so much responsibility? Blimey, you’re making me blush, and that is certainly an over exaggeration, i’m definitely not a wizard or a gnome. More like a goblin that sticks his head in everywhere. Anyway, to answer your question. When I first joined the fleet I had an abundance of free time, which I wanted to put to uses other than playing video games or doing DIY and housework. I browsed the task forces and found a few I liked the look of, teams that would enable me to use real life skills/experiences to help out. Since then, the community has given me a lot of good times, fun experiences and also helped through a few dark patches, so this is my way of giving back to a community that has given me so much, and I hope that i’m helping to add to that, and to create a good experience and fun times for others. You recently became the first officer of the newly launched USS Columbia – how does it feel to be Number One? As the writer it is good fun exploring Jarred’s feeling and thoughts to the changes and how he adjusts to his new responsibilities. In character he has only been first officer for a couple of (very hectic) weeks. The launch of the Columbia has seen us move to a new region – the Sagittarius Reach – and the first time Jarred was left in charge of the ship, they lost the Captain. So right now i’m having fun with how exploring how he is dealing with having suddenly been thrust into the chair and the responsibility it entails. As cliché as it may sound it is also an honour and a privilege to have been selected for the role. We’ve got a fine crew aboard the Columbia, with many talented and experienced writers amongst the ranks (I think it is something like 50 odd years combined experience). I’m also really looked forward to the future and leading the crew in our new adventures and opportunities in the Sagittarius Reach. Do you have a simming process, and if so, has your appointment as FO changed your procedure in any way? I primarily write my sims in Google Docs, from a “master copy”. I begin by pasting in everybody’s individual responses since my last sim, including what has happened since. I’ll then go through and colour code everything (dialogue is black, my descriptions/narrative is green, other people’s descriptions/thoughts/narrative are red and unanswered tags are purple) at the same time i’ll adjust the formatting. Next, the hard part, i’ll start writing, removing the red parts as I go along, and colour coding what I write. Then I take a short break, before coming back and proof reading what i’ve written. Once i’m happy with it, i’ll copy and paste into a new post on Google Groups, have a final read over and edit the formatting again (for some reason it ends up getting messed up) and finally I send it. Before I would usually read sims, and write on the same day. However, i’ve started to read sims one day, then write the next, skimming over the scenes i’m in again just so i’ve got everything clear in my mind. On my “reading day” I also start thinking about how to move the scene forwards, how would Jarred react etc. Looking forward, do you have ambitions for rising even further in the fleet? I’d be lying if I said it’s not something that is at the back of my mind, but for the moment I’m enjoying the view. Being a captain is a difficult job, not least the responsibility of managing an entire crew of people with different skills, experiences and personalities. For the moment I’m focusing on learning and growing as much as I can, and I’ve been fortunate to serve under some incredibly supportive captains, who’ve taught me a lot. I also still feel relatively new and want to continue supporting the fleet as much as I can, whilst I can. Is there a particular part of being an FO that you enjoy? A part you could do without? My favourite part has be interacting with the crew OOC. Before becoming first officer i’d served on the Columbia’s staff and acted as a mentor to a few players. But now I have the whole crew to interact with, and I love checking in with them all, hearing their ideas and aspirations, as well as helping them achieve their goals. Not only that, but I love the opportunity to push the spotlight onto others, to give them the opportunity to shine and show off their creativity. In essence you’re a facilitator for others and I really enjoy that. As for a part I could do without – honestly nothing. There are certainly some challenges that have come with the role, such as writing Jarred in a way that he is still relevant despite no longer being a “specialist”, and having to adjust my writing accordingly and allow other players to “do their thing”. Chances are we have a good many players in the fleet right now who would like to one day achieve their own first officer birth. What advice would you give to these aspiring folks? How long have you got? The first thing I would say – communication – if you are interested in command, no matter how junior or new you may be, let your captain know, without bugging them too much (seriously, you won’t be bothering or hassling them by asking, in fact they’ll likely be pleased to hear you want to develop). They, along with the ship’s staff will be the ones to guide you and give the tools to allow you to succeed. Secondly patience. Becoming a first officer is a big step, with quite a bit of added responsibility. Enjoy the journey. Look to those around you as an example to learn from, whether it be from their simming/writing, or just by talking to veteran simmers. If you have the potential, it will happen, but don’t try to force it, or nag about it. Also, don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t happen straight away, or for the first, second or even third time. Learn from those experiences and ask your captain/first officer/mentor what you can do to improve for the next time an opportunity arises. As a first officer you’re expected to be a leader, both IC and OOC, as well as a team player. So why not start showing off those skills? When simming, think about how you can provide opportunities for other players, for example, as a security officer you could enlist the aid of a engineering or science officer to help you out with a problem, or have your character suffer an injury (even a minor one) so the medical officer can practice their skills. Reach out to other players to see whether they’d be interested in writing a scene together, maybe your science officer is working on a project and needs help from a medical officer. These are the kinds of things that get noticed by the ship’s staff and will stand you in good stead for the future. I’d also highly recommend getting involved in OOC activities, whether that be on your ship, or one of the many task forces. You’ll make friends from across the fleet, potentially learn some new skills (maybe even develop a passion). Not only that, but by being an active member of our community, people will get to see your work who will think highly of you and you’ll begin to earn yourself a reputation. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant Commander Thoran! You can read more about Jarred Thoran on the SB118 Wiki, found here. The post First Officer in Focus: Lieutenant Commander Jarred Thoran, Columbia appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  13. FltAdml. Wolf

    Responding to Tags

    Sorry I missed this – hopefully the question has been answered by now in the class For future reference of others: Generally the etiquette is to wait at least 24 hours before responding again, more depending on the flow of the story. Some ships sim faster than others, so you'll get guidance on this from your eventual Commanding Officer. Each time you write a post, it'll be a new part of the story. In some cases, there will be situations where a bunch of people are in the same room and you might need to sorta "rehash" the scene as people fill in tags, but most of the time that won't be necessary and you'll just be picking up where you last left off. So if someone's response to your tag requires more "discussion," you can repost the last few lines so that people don't have to go back and look at previous sims, but otherwise you want to have new content starting from that point. Hope that helps
  14. Do scientists need a warning though?


  15. Flashpoint in E-minus 96 years.

    1. German Galven

      German Galven

      So not that far out then, eh?

  16. StarBase 118 Staff

    New Academy Graduates

    Please welcome our newest Academy graduates to the UFOP: StarBase 118 fleet: Jhotta and Elaina Ren! The post New Academy Graduates appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  17. Ruq'orb

    Responding to Tags

    I would post your response to the sim.
  18. Jona ch'Ranni

    Responding to Tags

    We just started our academy training and I'm wondering about the process for responding to tags presented by other simmers. For example, the CO started the sim with a post. I posted my sim by filling in my responses where appropriate, making sure to fill in dialog in all the tags presented for my character. Then the FO posted their sim after mine but included an additional tag for me to respond to. Should I now post an updated sim that includes everything I wrote before, add the FO's dialog, and fill out my dialog in the spot that the FO tagged me? Is there more etiquette in waiting for the rest of the cadets to add their responses and then include their dialog with my second post? Cadet Jona ch'Ranni Trainee USS Centris-A
  19. StarBase 118 Staff

    Poll of the Week: First Contact Fears?

    Starfleet officers are saddled with an immense amount of responsibility. It seems like each day is just another chance to be vaporized, tortured, spaced, sucked into a black hole, or anything else in the pantheon of untimely demises. And yet, the beloved organization of exploration and defense grows its ranks and carries on a legacy of honor and optimism: boldly going where no one has gone before. These risks are accepted by all aboard, but there seems to be one duty description more hazardous and unpredictable than any other, and that’s the specialists who handle first contact with new species. A variety of Star Trek episodes show us what happens when first contact goes horribly wrong. In “Tin Man” an entire Starfleet landing team was massacred due to a cultural misunderstanding. The risks and dangers of first contact, and the numerous ways it can be performed poorly, inspired Starfleet to insist on creating General Order 1, otherwise known as the Prime Directive. While this mitigated certain issues, the fact that someone would still need to speak for the entire Federation in truly precarious situations remained. That’s probably why Starfleet captains are vetted on the basis of their ability to diplomatically and tactfully introduce an entirely new race to the people of the United Federation of Planets, among other things. So this week’s poll asks: Do you believe your character would be comfortable handling first contact situations on a regular basis? Would they relish the importance and the strain? Would they collapse under pressure? Perhaps something in between? Click here to head to the forums now and vote in this week’s poll. Then let us know your thoughts in the comments below the poll! The post Poll of the Week: First Contact Fears? appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  20. ((Corridors, The Skarbek)) ::The whole sickbay scene unravelled itself in chaos, Red herself making an entrance, followed by an entourage of The Kid, aka Groznin. Shortly after the commotion gathered steam, Papa Bear himself arrived on scene, delivering a stern order to for lack of better words, “Get some damn rest”. After criticising the current situation on board of course.:: ::The situation itself, was a shamble. After passing out for god knows how long, suddenly, there seemed to be an epidemic of sleepwalking, something that seemed to question the very boundaries of reality as the crew knew it. There was more than enough evidence to note that there was some other force pulling the strings here. The only trouble was… how could they possibly find out? How could a ship filled to the brim with skeptics possibly question the norms of their own reality, when they won’t even accept the facts layed out in front of them?:: ::Emilia was in no state to contemplate the matter of reality, of course, what she needed right now was “some damn rest” as the captain said it. Her boots tapped endlessly down the hallways, her body a sweaty mess and her hair… her hair was the subject of a definite talk with Sticks. Perhaps he required a lesson in hair care, lest he lose his scalp physically, rather than metaphorically.:: ::Emilia made a sharp left turn on her heel, once again travelling down the all too familiar, manky corridor that she called home. The main form of lighting once again flickering under the worn out wiring, highlighting the unfinished wall panels parallel to the scorch mark covered door. The ever prevalent scars left from the countless electrical fires, once again smiling at Emilia as she entered the cozily small room.:: ((Personal Quarters, The Skarbek)) ::Emilia took in a deep breath as an audible ‘whoosh’ signaled the closing of the doors. Promptly her eyes drifted over to the vacant bed. The sheets fitted to perfection and the blankets left as if nobody had slept there for months, just as mother taught her. A single book sat in the centre of the bed, it’s glossy cover highlighting under the pale light, a small piece of velvet lining stuck out of the pages, marking a spot for continuation.:: ::With a small smile, Emilia slipped her boots off with a swift unzipping motion freeing both legs from that cage of worn leather and sweat. Emilia’s feet energetically pounced her body forward, the soft springs of her bed (arguably the most comfortable spot on the ship) cushioning her fall.:: ::In an instant, her hungry eyes seized the book’s form, Emilia’s nails jamming in between the marked crevices of the novel. Dramatically and slowly, she freed the printed text from darkness that plagued the pages. The relief of escaping to a world of fantasy upon her once more, as she set her famished eyes on the bold, black letters that sunk deeply into the pages.:: ::It felt rather ironic really, suspecting one of dreaming, but once again indulging in the dreams of another man. Quite odd really? Perhaps it was… but the line between dreams and reality appeared to thicken once again as Emilia occupied her thoughts on the coarse pages. Though, she still couldn’t shake the feelings she had earlier. Each image within her mind, sticking with her like glue. Each recollection, causing a strangely ghostly feeling to reach through the very centre of her chest.:: ::But what could it all mean?:: _______________________ Emilia “Princess” Krugol -- Maquis Escort -- Skarbek ________________________ Simmed by ________________________ Ensign Emilia Krugol -- Security/Tactical Officer -- USS Gorkon -- G239409EK0 ________________________
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  22. StarBase 118 Staff

    Promotions for September

    Just one lonely promotion this month, but nevertheless, we want to celebrate the following officer on their recent promotion! Please be sure to say congratulations if you see them around the forums! COLUMBIA Hal Mika to Lieutenant JG The post Promotions for September appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  23. StarBase 118 Staff

    September 2018 post counts

    In September, the members of UFOP: StarBase 118 wrote a total of 1,304 sims across seven ships and installations, with a fleet average of 186 sims per ship. Leading the fleet was the Andaris Task Force who transitioned to their new home, the USS Columbia! The ATF/Columbia crew wrote 229 sims. Next was USS Veritas at 206 sims, followed by USS Gorkon at 193 sims. Check out some of the highlights of this past month’s simming through our Appreciations forum, where you and your fellow members can nominate sims, great quotes, and other memorable moments for the rest of the fleet to enjoy! The post September 2018 post counts appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  24. Jona ch'Ranni

    official Arrival at StarBase 118 - introduce your character here!

    The turbolift spat Cadet Jona ch'Ranni out into the spacious corridor of the Starbase 118 Promenade. He stumbled as his boot caught the lip of the doorway and he fell to the gray carpeted deck in an undignified heap. A passing Trill offered a kind hand to help him to his feet. He thanked her and it took all of his self-control not to gawk at the variety of sights and sounds that assaulted his senses. Bustling was the word he would use to describe the place. Hundreds of individuals milled along the path which spread out in both directions as far as the cadet's keen eyesight could see. His antennae twitched and swiveled independently, trying to take in the bright colors and constant hum of sounds that permeated the area. Jona turned to the left and merged into the crowd of people that flowed like a river down the hallway. Jona's light blue skin beaded with sweat as he walked. The heat from the press of people around him warmed him more than was comfortable for an Andorian who was acclimated to the arctic temperature of his home world. The fresh cadet, all of 24 years old, exited the crowd and found solace in the slightly cooler pub that he entered. It was called Keal's Pub and sported a rustic decor that appealed to Jona. He took a seat on one of the wooden stools at the bar. He nodded to a fellow Andorian, a strikingly beautiful woman, across the room. She inclined her head back to him with a slight smile. Jona was lost in thought as he turned back to the bar and was startled by a man standing in front of him across the countertop. "You'll have a Samarian Sunset, I suppose?" said the middle-aged man with a smile. "Yes, that's my favorite drink," replied Jona. "How did you know?" "Betazoid," answered the man. "Makes my job pretty easy when I know what you want to order before you order it." He slipped the cadet a squat glass with a clear liquid inside. Jona tapped the glass and the drink swirled orange and gold. Just like he liked it. "Thanks. I appreciate it," said Jonah. "What can you tell me about this place?" "It's an amazing port," said the dark-eyed man. "There are wonders here that you have never imagined. Yet it's as familiar as home. You'll see. One thing that it's not is ... boring. Never boring." The man's description trailed off as he stared forward as if whole sections of his life were playing out before him. This man had seen some things - not all of them pleasant but not all bad either. He just had an air of someone who had lived life and survived to tell about it. It reminded Jona that he had not lived much life beyond his youth and the few short years he spent at the Academy. He had spent more time in simulators and sitting in classrooms than actually living life. He was eager to add to his list of experiences, though, and this Starbase was going to be the epicenter of it all. Jona tugged at the mustard yellow collar of his uniform. It was perfectly tailored to fit his slim body down to the micron but it wasn't a mistake in sizing that caused the nervous habit. His classmates loved to tease him about this - they called it the 'Jona Maneuver' much to his embarrassment. A chime from his PADD reminded him of his upcoming appointment. He was to report to the Holodeck for training at 0900 hours. Just ten minutes from now. Better to be early than late. He thanked the bartender and downed his drink, setting it down with a plink. The cadet stood and stretched his limbs, loosening his muscles. He pictured his narrow fingers flying across the helm console, banking the starship as disruptor fire zipped past the nose of the ship. "All hands, brace for evasive maneuvers," he whispered to himself. Yes, he was about to rack up some experience. He was ready for anything.
  25. Join us in the chat room for our monthly OOC chat on Sunday, October 14 at 10am Pacific / 1pm Eastern / 6pm London / 4am+1 Sydney (AUS). Click here to see when the chat starts in your timezone, and add this chat to your calendar with a quick and easy link. Our monthly chats are a place to meet other members of the fleet, catch up on current fleet events, share stories, and talk about Star Trek. Especially if you’ve never attended a chat before, we hope you’ll participate this month! The post Mark your calendar: Fleetwide OOC chat this Sunday, October 14 appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  26. ((OOC: This contains reference to Tatash's damaged psyche, if that is a sensitive subject please beware)) ((Laurel Clark - Atmosphere of the moon)) Duyzer: Either I had inaccurate results on the Columbia, or this magnetic interference has grown. We may be dealing with a magnitude even those pattern enhancers cannot supersede. G’Renn: Let’s hope that they do remain in working order. Tatash: Not to mention the rest of the shuttle, that's one hell of a storm. ::The looming atmosphere in front of him was certainly looking unpleasant. There was flashes of greenery under it, flashes of water, but above it all was the steady churn of a terrible looking storm syste:: Jolara: ? ::To Tatash's surprise, the storm was more bark then it was bite. The swirling masses of grey cloud caused little problems for the agile little vehicle pushing between them. He was no engineer, but there was no whine of struggle, only the sound of rain hitting the side of the Lauren Clark with a dull rumble:: G’Renn: When we arrive I want everyone to stay vigilant and keep an eye on the surroundings. Unfortunately we don’t know anything about what we’re flying into. ::Tatash nodded in response and glanced around everyone's belt, before pointing towards one of the small thumb-locked lockers underneath the couch opposite him:: Tatash: Make sure you're all armed. Something about this just doesn't sit right in my gut. ::He'd learned from early in his career, before his Starfleet one, that when something didn't feel right in that multi chambered meat-processor of his... it was usually for a good reason:: Jolara: ? Duyzer: Will do. G’Renn: Good, if we- ::A flashing light on the co-pilot’s console caught her attention:: The comms just went out. As soon as we land I want to set up the signal beacon. After we have re-established contact we can begin our search. Tatash: I'll keep you covered. ::He nodded towards the beacon. He didn't want to risk breaking what looked like quite a delicate (not to mention amazingly important) piece of equipment:: Jolara: ? ::For a second things were going smoothly, the small group performing as a cohesive unit until the almost predictable fate of a well planned team came to bear. There was a bang. A horrible sounding crash that felt like a giant hand had rapped a knuckle against the side of the craft, almost as if checking if anyone came to the door to answer it. The jolt, the suddenness of it caused his heart to almost explode out of his chest. It felt familiar, like a sickening impact he'd already felt once before. He shouldn't have suggested a shuttle, this was a damned foolish idea.:: Jolara: ? G'Renn: Report! Duyzer: It's because of the magnetic interference, we can't handle the difference in magneticity between the ship and the atmosphere. G'Renn: Does anyone have any suggestions? Duyzer: Uhm... ::he struggled to come up with a quick fix, he would rather pause time and think about this for several hours:: Now would be the time to test my mentor's theory... ::Another thud slapped against them, this time causing the Security chief to whack the back of his head against the bulkhead. His breathing was increasing rapidly, his knuckles clenching almost painfully on the straps holding him in, almost cutting the deliberately tough fabric into his palms:: Jolara: ? G'Renn: What about the warp coils in the nacelles? Couldn’t we pass a current through them like an electromagnet? Duyzer: Yes! ::shouting like it was a eureka-moment:: I'll, uhm... G’Renn: Then let’s hurry, ensign! ::She motioned to the panel next to Ensign Duyzer’s station:: The engineering access panel is right there. ::Tatash watched the Ensign moving at speed towards an access panel with widened eyes. Were they going down? Was the shuttle about to fall like a stone, even it's strong hull would never survive such an impact.Something inside him twisted, something hellish bringing a memory to the forefront. His eyes fixed ahead of him int error, unable to stop himself from bearing witness to a catastrophe:: ((Flashback - The Battle of the USS Avalon)) ::Green lances continued to spear out towards the group of fighters as they dragged them away from the Aramis's nesting place, but too many. They were drones, no question about that, their computer minds pulling maneuvers that would be considered far too risky for anything flesh and bone to be sitting in the pilots seats. Twisting and turning they dodged fire like ballet dancers avoiding the torrents of hellfire being thrown at them:: Tatash: We have to lure them towards the Albion! She can give us fire support. ::A few responses came back, garbled, no doubt those little terrors putting out some sort of ECM systems to jam communications but his intent got through, the battered fighter wing closing up and speeding towards the Albion with their pursuers in tow. Another friendly was tore up, the Peregrine tumbling over and splitting apart in a hail of Romulan energy:: Tatash: oO Come on... get the message... Oo ::Diago was thankfully quick on his trigger, the Albion letting out orange bursts of energy towards the attacking ships that did their best to adapt to the sudden new parameter being thrown at them, several exploding into blossoms of yellow before subduing into frozen shards of gas and metal. One by one their number went down, a few elated cheers coming over the comms as the electronic smokescreen surrounding the fighters started to dissipate along with their numbers. Even Tatash couldn't help but feel himself slightly relax, until that split second of relief bore a heavy price. His Valkyrie spun violently as something tore hard against the port side, what had once been a pristine wing now a twisted piece of metal. He'd been rammed, the drones apparently programmed to take every last risk when it came to ensuring victory against their designated enemy:: Computer: Warning, Port engines destroyed. Compensating. ::Slowly the ship came about, steading herself out as she limped towards the Albions perimeter, but the moment had been enough for one of the drones to deliver a firm volley against her damaged hull. Tatash flailed in his seat, thrown against the side of his [...]pit as alarms wailed on each console:: Computer: Catastrophic damage. Eject. Eject. ::His training took over, clawed hands grasping for the lever under his seat that would throw the entire [...]pit out as a makeshift lifeboat, one tug. Nothing, two tugs. Still nothing:: Computer: Ejection failure. ::His heart was pounding, the blue glow of the Albions shuttlebay painfully close as he fired up the emergency thruster, throwing him forwards towards it as he tapped on the comms system hoping to the pale goddess it still worked:: Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Albion. Mayday, Mayday. ::Nothing, whatever response had come through was distorted static blasting through his ear piece. His [...]pit was cracking, a thin spiderweb slowly erupting over what was once an impossibly strong material:: Tatash: =/\= Mayday... Computer: Warning, landing gear failure. All systems failing. ::All he could do now was hope as he continued to push towards the docking bay at speed, his scaled knuckles almost white as he did his best to assert what limited control he had on the ruined vehicle. The Albions damaged hull rushed past him as he saw the massive catching net erupting from the shuttlebay floor, he could even make out technicians running for cover as time seemed to slow down as the adrenaline pushing through him hit his peak. The nose hit the net with tremendous force, the entire fuselage crumpling down as he was thrown forward, what was a moment of reality pushed into a murky darkness:: ((End Flashback)) ::The voices around him had faded into a dull murmur, his body shook without him occupying it as the Shuttle landed itself on the ground with only a slight amount of discomfort to just about everyone else but him, too busy trapped in his own personal prison. He felt his biological fingers grasping, the fabric between them, his thumbs running over them experimenting and feeling their texture in reality. His metal ones on the other arm were alien to him, once more, but they were real. As he had been told, they were a fragment of that memory that will always remain to remind him it was in the past. Not now, although it felt like now. The bulkhead ahead of him was solid and cold. The chair under him was sturdy. It was soft, supportive, attached. Straps. The straps were tight on him. He flexed his toes, boots. Boots around his feet, grounding him. He was here, on the ground, safe. He took a brief moment to pause, almost mentally rebooting himself:: G’Renn: Is anyone seriously injured? Duyzer: Not me. Jolara: ? ::Tatash counted, slowly up to five. Each time regulating his breathing, every coping mechanism that had been pushed into him almost as a muscle memory by the almost endless counselling sessions triggering automatically as he let out the deepest exhale of all:: Tatash: I'm alright. ::he managed to stutter out, his focus shifting intently to his rifle. His weapon gave him control, it gave him power. Control was good, control was needed. With a well drilled motion he cycled the power, checked the energy cell status despite doing it several times before they had even taken off:: G’Renn: Come on, let’s get this signal beacon working. ::The door opened, and air blasted into the cramped interior almost like it was blowing away the last traces of that almost nightmare memory from his mind. He was focused, ready again. Just a shame that cold air hung heavy with natural fragrances, pleasant ones at that even despite the storm raging overhead. He swept his rifle over the ground ahead of them as the beacon was deployed, the focus down his sights keeping him locked back in the present.:: G’Renn: =/\= Doctor G’Renn to the Columbia, do you read? =/\= Thoran: =/\= Doctor, good to hear your voice. We believe we have detected some kind of artificial field, not too far from your original destination. I’d like you to investigate the area around the coordinates two-two-nine mark five. Please confirm. =/\= ::Tatash took a few steps down the loading ramp, his eyes scanning the horizon. There was nothing, no welcoming committee to meet them. Either there was no one interested in them, or they had landed undetected. Or, more ominously, they were being studied remotely:: G’Renn: =/\= Understood. We almost crashed due to a power loss on the way down, so it’s probably safer to walk if it’s close. We’ll keep you informed. =/\= Thoran: =/\= Stay safe Doctor. Columbia out. =/\= G’Renn: Everybody grab your equipment and get ready for a short hike. Those coordinates would be ::She consulted her tricorder, which could at least display a basic idea of their position. Beyond that it was almost useless.:: that way! Duyzer: Yes, it shouldn't be more than a fifteen minute hike. Tatash: Understood. I'll take point. Jolara: ? Duyzer: This planet is beautiful. ::putting up his Denobulan smile:: ::Tatash grunted at that comment as he walked slowly forward, his steps deliberate as he did his best to focus on every slight hint of motion. Even with his excellent eyesight, it would be far too easy for someone to hide virtually undetected within the foilage. But, he couldn't let the paranoia set in from his earlier incident, he had to remain focused on reality now not past.:: G'Renn/Jolara: ? Duyzer: Yes, of course! ::he quickly glanced down:: Not on sensors yet. I am wondering, a man-made field on a planet ::he pointed to all the nature around them:: this untouched? Tatash: Perfect place to hide, Ensign. Breathable air, self sustainable farming ::he nodded towards the rich ground:: and unexplored by anyone. Who would ever bother you out here? G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? ::A few more steps forward, before something caught Tatash's eye causing him to throw a hand up motioning to stop. Tricorders were one thing, but sometimes the old methods were the best. Crouching down he ran his fingers over a uniform pattern in the surface of the dirt. Grass was crushed, and again in a patterned line roughly three foot parallel:: Tatash: Tracks. Literally tracks. G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? Tatash: Whatever it was, it was fairly light. Some sort of tracked vehicle, probably lightly armored, civilian. Judging by the way the grass has been pressed, it's heading towards... whatever we are. G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? Tatash: Fresh, couple of hours maybe. ::He added, gently testing the spongyness of the grass underfoot:: G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? --- Lt. Commander Tatash Chief of Security USS Columbia C239108T10
  27. ((Diplomatic Conference Room, USS Columbia)) ::If there was one thing they got right when they redesigned and upgraded the Columbia, it was the diplomatic conference room. Spanning a space large enough for a big meeting, or a small gathering, the room was lined with transparent aluminum windows that gave an unimpeded view of the outside. Meant to provide a sense of awe, and perhaps humility, unto those who would gaze beyond the thin barrier, the view quickly enraptured her.:: ::Silence permeated the very bulkheads in the large room in which she now stood, her boot steps long halted and their echoing footfalls long faded into the chasm of isolation she’d created within. A set of blue crystalline eyes gazed into the dark abyss of space, reaching, wanting…barely touching on the tiny motes of dust that were in actuality stars burning bright millions of miles away. Finding their target, an almost unsettling purplish haze, they settled.:: ::And then her mind wandered.:: ::So still she stood that the long wisps of hair no longer fluttered around her. Draping down her back, past her waist, the obsidian locks seemed almost unreal. Had anyone walked in at that moment, they might have thought themselves approaching a statue. Yet, even as her stillness became a very part of the room she stood in, her mind flew amongst the very stars she ignored.:: ::Much of her thoughts were empty, distant like the burning balls of flame that consumed themselves and eventually became the void that they had once illuminated. They were of her first memories, drifting in space, with everything new and unlearned. Each day had been filled with a kind of wonder, like a child discovering the universe for the first time. And yet, as the days wore on, it became painfully apparent that something was missing. That pain, a deep atramentous divide, never left. Day after day she carried it with her.:: ::Day after day, she suffered.:: ::Memories were, as she’d learned, often taken for granted. As Starfleet medical poked and prodded, she uncovered the true loss. Without friends, without connections, without anyone but herself, Kali had learned how to walk again. Physically she was whole. Physically she had no trouble standing on her own two feet. In her head, however, things were anything but normal.:: ::Now, as she stood on the precipice of the edge of the galaxy, she wondered. The dark beyond was yet unknown. The barrier held within it mystery, and perhaps, something that could help her. Would it work? Would it be worth it? And would their proximity be close enough to matter?:: ::Question after question rattled off as she finally, slowly, closed her eyes.:: ::And that was the first time the image of the blade coming at her appeared. Gasping for air and falling backwards into the nearby table, Kali desperately struggled to grasp what she had just seen…:: TBC Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Federation Ambassador at Large As simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Science Officer USS Columbia R238605KN0
  28. Each month, the Academy staff compiles the statistics about our recruiting and training for the fleet’s informational purposes. Let’s take a look at how we did as a fleet in September. This first graph depicts the number of applications that we have received each month this year. Thanks in large part to a post on Reddit about our community, the month of September saw an amazing twenty-one new applicants! This is almost double the number from August and ties January as the largest number of new applicants in one month this year! The following chart shows how our new members found us, according to their application: This final graph shows how many people graduated from the Academy during the month of September. The fleet saw fourteen new graduates during September, which is nearly twice as many as we saw in August! This number includes two graduates who applied at the end of August and whose training did not conclude until the beginning of September. We also had four applicants whose training did not conclude until the beginning of October. These new recruits are the lifeblood of our community. Without them, it becomes difficult to keep our ships fully crewed and even more difficult to grow the fleet. If you’d like to help us recruit more members and grow our fleet, you can join the Publicity Team using this form. The post Applications and Academy Graduates for September 2018 appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  29. Renos

    Ensign Ruq'orb - Clubbing

    ((Deck 8, Club Olympus, USS Apollo)) :: Ruq’orb entered the club this was the first time he’d been in when the club was open. It looked completely different from the reduced lighting and the flashing disco lights. The fast-paced music that was playing was really catchy, he nodded his head along with the beat and with a bit of sway as he approached the bar. :: :: As he ordered a glass of water, he noted the voice and lack of anything emotional from the bar staff. :: Ruq’orb: oO Hologram? Oo :: He was still learning about how his senses worked but he’d always been able to sense peoples emotions and when things seemed out of place or even people. Ruq’orb knew the room was fully fitted with the latest holo software and tech. :: Ruq’orb: You been busy? Bar Staff: Yes, We have with all the new crew. Are you new? :: He smiled at the question, the computer seemed to have a small talk subroutine. :: Ruq’orb: No I been here for the last two and a half years since the refit started. Thanks for the drink. :: He didn’t fancy spending all his night chatting to holograms, he bobbed and weaved his way across the dance floor to a slightly raised seating area at the back. He noted a few crewmembers from his team and lots of new ones. :: Ruq’orb: oO This place might need extra security patrols. Oo :: He made a mental note for later, not that he expected trouble but with a full ship of civilians to cadets to the new officers to high ranking ones you just never know. As he sat, he started his second favourite thing watching people and practising his mental ability to try to feel their emotions. He had empathic abilities but no telepathic. In his past, he’d used his ability to gather information this had lead to him spending time in jail. It had also made him learn several things about him and computer skills. :: :: He smiled at the feelings he was getting the room was full of love, fun and enjoyment. Some from the dancing, music but some from the new mission and the adventure ahead of them. He looked forward to the experience of the exploration, also to meet new people. He enjoyed company at two hundred and sixty-four years old he was still young for his species almost a young adult. As he listened to the music, it started to bring back a memory from his past at the same time he began to feel his head pound only for a moment, but at that moment, he’d remembered hours of the memory. :: :: He checked the time on the table padd it was almost time to go see Conrad try to knock that arrogant Zackdorn of his peg or so he hoped. He still had a short time to watch, listen and feel this place. :: -TBC- Ensign Ruq'orb Chief of Security - USS Apollo-A USS Apollo-A Staff Member A238806K10
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