Heirs to the Arnor - An Unofficial Gameplay Example
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Inspired somewhat by some of the fanfiction posted elsewhere in these forums, I've decided to dust off the Terran Alliance and write an After-Action Report (AAR) on our future history.
The reason this is posted here, and not in the AAR subforum, is because I get the impression that most people don't even know we have subforums, let alone one for AARs.
The Terran Alliance
Morale +10%
Research +20%
Trade +25%
Diplomacy +25%
Hit Points +10%
Trade Routes +1
Courage +25%
Logistics +6
Political Party
Federalists
Galaxy Statistics
Size: Gigantic
Habitable Planets: Uncommon
Planets: Uncommon
Stars: Abundant
Star Density: Loose Clusters
Anomalies: Abundant
Research Speed: Normal
All nine alien races are present, all intelligence levels set to Normal. The Drengin start at war with me, for reasons which will be made clear in the prologue.
My (from my perspective, insane) goal is to get a ten way alliance victory. This means that I will have to keep every major race alive for the duration of the game, and forge an alliance with all of them. Since I'm at war with the Drengin by default, I will likely have to beat at least one alien race into submission, possibly more if the Drengin start looking for allies.
* * *
Prologue
FEBRUARY 25TH, 2224
CHICAGO, EARTH, TERRAN ALLIANCE
There was an aura of anticipation in Parliament Hall. The crowd of Senators and television crews gathered in the Senate didn't know exactly what awaited them in the next few minutes, but they had heard the rumors. They all knew that President Bradley's next State of the Alliance address would not be in the traditional mold. No Presidential speech had caused such excitement since the build-up to Charles Deveraux's revelation of First Contact in 2176.
Along one wall, Doctor Sarah Marshall sat amongst the members of the Cabinet. They knew what was coming, but that didn't stop them from savoring the moment. Up on stage, the Chairman of the Senate was giving his preamble, but even he felt the earnest and anticipation of all in the room, awaiting the speech.
Alan Bradley was waiting in the Communications Chamber, an anteroom just off the back of the Senate. He straightened his tie nervously. He wasn't sure that he was ready for this.
In his hand he held a datakey, containing the schematics for the new device. It had been a long road since they first made contact with the Arcaen Empire, filled with hardships - the time the Xendar had invaded through the Stargate, the battles with the Korx and Drath on behalf of the Altarians. But they were finally here. It was time for humanity to prove their worth to the galaxy.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Chairman finished, "the President of the Terran Alliance."
The Presidential anthem played as Bradley entered the Senate, datakey in hand. He adjusted the microphone, and looked at the speech he had been given. His speechwriter, an odd fellow from Luna, had insisted on writing the speech on paper, a medium that had been thankfully obsolete for over a century. Sweat from the President's hand had rendered the already terribly handwritten letter completely illegible. Perfect. Just perfect.
"Friends, Terrans, countrymen," he began, on the grounds that if it had worked for Marcus Antonius, it'd probably work for him, "this is a historic moment. For fifty years we have been forced to conduct all interstellar travel through the Stargates, taking ten years simply to travel from Earth to Arcea. However, we have made a momentous discovery."
He paused to wipe some seat from his brow. The crowd leaned in closer.
"By using her recently perfected cold fusion formulas, Doctor Sarah Marshall of Galactic Engineering has been able to successfully redesign the technology used in the Stargates to create a far superior form of faster-than-light travel. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you..."
He plugged the datakey into the lecturn. A hologram sprung to life above it - the schematics of the revolutionary new device.
"...Hyperdrive!"
That was when the first shot fired.
There is a tingling in the air associated with a plasma rifle being primed to fire, which was how the marines serving as honor guards were able to act so quickly. Before the sniper's finger had pulled his trigger, one of the soldiers had already launched himself in front of Bradley, taking the blast meant for the President in the chest.
Before anybody could react, a second sniper had let off a shot, at the Director of Executive Orders's head exploded.
Chaos broke out in the Senate. Nobody was certain how many of the assailants there were. Plasma fire was everywhere, and though it was soon matched with the rattle of Terran assault rifles, the gunfire did little to calm the panic. As mass hysteria consumed the Senate and the press, the President soon found himself seperated from his bodyguards.
As he frantically looked about for the enemy, he spotted a figure making its way rudely through the crowd. A figure in black power armor, with communications antennas on both sides of its helmet.
A soldier of the Drengin Empire.
The President reached for his personal sidearm - a United Munitions X-32 Handgun - and aimed it at the Drengin's head. His first shot missed, but the Drengin barely even noticed, the noise of the shot hidden underneath the sounds of battle.
Before Bradley could adjust his aim, the Drengin had reached the lecturn and grabbed the datakey. Training his gun on the alien again, Bradley was about to fire when he was knocked to the ground by a Senator frantic to escape the deathtrap.
When he recovered, the alien was gone, but Bradley knew where he had disappeared to. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled across the Senate to the entrance to the Communications Chamber.
The Drengin stood in front of him, before the massive Central Hyperwave Transmitter, a large circular console sitting in the center of the room, with a holographic map of the galaxy above it.
"Command confirmed," a feminine, computerized voice announced, "diplomatic transmission to Drengi entered into queue."
"Abort transmission!" Bradley shouted.
The Drengin turned to the source of the sound, plasma rifle drawn.
"Cannot accept command," the computerized voice announced, "transmission is classified as a diplomatic pouch."
"Shit."
Bradley leapt to the right as a plasma bolt struck through the air, then rolled to his feet, X-32 blasting as he charged towards the Drengin. He wouldn't be much in hand-to-hand against power armor, but he wasn't much at long range against a plasma rifle, either, and his only real hope was to keep the alien soldier off his toes.
The Drengin wasn't able to react before Bradley had him pinned to the console, weapons scattered to the floor. He turned his head for just a second, and saw the datakey jacked into the console.
Well, he thought, misery loves company.
"Enter contents of Port 42 into diplomatic broadcast. Set broadcast to all frequencies, all channels."
"Command confirmed," the computer responded.
"What," the Drengin stuttered in heavily accented Terran, "what are you doing?"
"Call off your transmission, and I'll call of mine."
"Nn'gah'trk!" the Drengin shouted.
Bradley didn't have time to figure out what the alien word meant. In that same instance, the Drengin had pushed forward, forcing the President to the floor, and driving his combat knife into Bradley's heart.
The alien didn't have time to celebrate, either. As it withdrew its bloody knife, a hail of gunfire erupted in the chamber, as bullets shredded its helmet, and its head.
Private James Locke, Terran Alliance Marine Corps, grinned as the Drengin assassin collapsed, but it quickly faded as he saw the corpse lying on the Communications Chamber floor. Dropping his rifle, he ran forward, placing two fingers on the President's neck.
No pulse.
"Locke! What's going on here?"
Locke looked up. The company captain had entered the room. He wasn't like going to have to explain this to the officer.
He wasn't going to like what would happen later, either.
* * *
No actual gameplay in this one, but it serves as a backstory for the war with the Drengin which will, hopefully, be a major part of the coming story. Actual updates should follow sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Feel lucky.
The reason this is posted here, and not in the AAR subforum, is because I get the impression that most people don't even know we have subforums, let alone one for AARs.
The Terran Alliance
Morale +10%
Research +20%
Trade +25%
Diplomacy +25%
Hit Points +10%
Trade Routes +1
Courage +25%
Logistics +6
Political Party
Federalists
Galaxy Statistics
Size: Gigantic
Habitable Planets: Uncommon
Planets: Uncommon
Stars: Abundant
Star Density: Loose Clusters
Anomalies: Abundant
Research Speed: Normal
All nine alien races are present, all intelligence levels set to Normal. The Drengin start at war with me, for reasons which will be made clear in the prologue.
My (from my perspective, insane) goal is to get a ten way alliance victory. This means that I will have to keep every major race alive for the duration of the game, and forge an alliance with all of them. Since I'm at war with the Drengin by default, I will likely have to beat at least one alien race into submission, possibly more if the Drengin start looking for allies.
* * *
Prologue
FEBRUARY 25TH, 2224
CHICAGO, EARTH, TERRAN ALLIANCE
There was an aura of anticipation in Parliament Hall. The crowd of Senators and television crews gathered in the Senate didn't know exactly what awaited them in the next few minutes, but they had heard the rumors. They all knew that President Bradley's next State of the Alliance address would not be in the traditional mold. No Presidential speech had caused such excitement since the build-up to Charles Deveraux's revelation of First Contact in 2176.
Along one wall, Doctor Sarah Marshall sat amongst the members of the Cabinet. They knew what was coming, but that didn't stop them from savoring the moment. Up on stage, the Chairman of the Senate was giving his preamble, but even he felt the earnest and anticipation of all in the room, awaiting the speech.
Alan Bradley was waiting in the Communications Chamber, an anteroom just off the back of the Senate. He straightened his tie nervously. He wasn't sure that he was ready for this.
In his hand he held a datakey, containing the schematics for the new device. It had been a long road since they first made contact with the Arcaen Empire, filled with hardships - the time the Xendar had invaded through the Stargate, the battles with the Korx and Drath on behalf of the Altarians. But they were finally here. It was time for humanity to prove their worth to the galaxy.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Chairman finished, "the President of the Terran Alliance."
The Presidential anthem played as Bradley entered the Senate, datakey in hand. He adjusted the microphone, and looked at the speech he had been given. His speechwriter, an odd fellow from Luna, had insisted on writing the speech on paper, a medium that had been thankfully obsolete for over a century. Sweat from the President's hand had rendered the already terribly handwritten letter completely illegible. Perfect. Just perfect.
"Friends, Terrans, countrymen," he began, on the grounds that if it had worked for Marcus Antonius, it'd probably work for him, "this is a historic moment. For fifty years we have been forced to conduct all interstellar travel through the Stargates, taking ten years simply to travel from Earth to Arcea. However, we have made a momentous discovery."
He paused to wipe some seat from his brow. The crowd leaned in closer.
"By using her recently perfected cold fusion formulas, Doctor Sarah Marshall of Galactic Engineering has been able to successfully redesign the technology used in the Stargates to create a far superior form of faster-than-light travel. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you..."
He plugged the datakey into the lecturn. A hologram sprung to life above it - the schematics of the revolutionary new device.
"...Hyperdrive!"
That was when the first shot fired.
There is a tingling in the air associated with a plasma rifle being primed to fire, which was how the marines serving as honor guards were able to act so quickly. Before the sniper's finger had pulled his trigger, one of the soldiers had already launched himself in front of Bradley, taking the blast meant for the President in the chest.
Before anybody could react, a second sniper had let off a shot, at the Director of Executive Orders's head exploded.
Chaos broke out in the Senate. Nobody was certain how many of the assailants there were. Plasma fire was everywhere, and though it was soon matched with the rattle of Terran assault rifles, the gunfire did little to calm the panic. As mass hysteria consumed the Senate and the press, the President soon found himself seperated from his bodyguards.
As he frantically looked about for the enemy, he spotted a figure making its way rudely through the crowd. A figure in black power armor, with communications antennas on both sides of its helmet.
A soldier of the Drengin Empire.
The President reached for his personal sidearm - a United Munitions X-32 Handgun - and aimed it at the Drengin's head. His first shot missed, but the Drengin barely even noticed, the noise of the shot hidden underneath the sounds of battle.
Before Bradley could adjust his aim, the Drengin had reached the lecturn and grabbed the datakey. Training his gun on the alien again, Bradley was about to fire when he was knocked to the ground by a Senator frantic to escape the deathtrap.
When he recovered, the alien was gone, but Bradley knew where he had disappeared to. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled across the Senate to the entrance to the Communications Chamber.
The Drengin stood in front of him, before the massive Central Hyperwave Transmitter, a large circular console sitting in the center of the room, with a holographic map of the galaxy above it.
"Command confirmed," a feminine, computerized voice announced, "diplomatic transmission to Drengi entered into queue."
"Abort transmission!" Bradley shouted.
The Drengin turned to the source of the sound, plasma rifle drawn.
"Cannot accept command," the computerized voice announced, "transmission is classified as a diplomatic pouch."
"Shit."
Bradley leapt to the right as a plasma bolt struck through the air, then rolled to his feet, X-32 blasting as he charged towards the Drengin. He wouldn't be much in hand-to-hand against power armor, but he wasn't much at long range against a plasma rifle, either, and his only real hope was to keep the alien soldier off his toes.
The Drengin wasn't able to react before Bradley had him pinned to the console, weapons scattered to the floor. He turned his head for just a second, and saw the datakey jacked into the console.
Well, he thought, misery loves company.
"Enter contents of Port 42 into diplomatic broadcast. Set broadcast to all frequencies, all channels."
"Command confirmed," the computer responded.
"What," the Drengin stuttered in heavily accented Terran, "what are you doing?"
"Call off your transmission, and I'll call of mine."
"Nn'gah'trk!" the Drengin shouted.
Bradley didn't have time to figure out what the alien word meant. In that same instance, the Drengin had pushed forward, forcing the President to the floor, and driving his combat knife into Bradley's heart.
The alien didn't have time to celebrate, either. As it withdrew its bloody knife, a hail of gunfire erupted in the chamber, as bullets shredded its helmet, and its head.
Private James Locke, Terran Alliance Marine Corps, grinned as the Drengin assassin collapsed, but it quickly faded as he saw the corpse lying on the Communications Chamber floor. Dropping his rifle, he ran forward, placing two fingers on the President's neck.
No pulse.
"Locke! What's going on here?"
Locke looked up. The company captain had entered the room. He wasn't like going to have to explain this to the officer.
He wasn't going to like what would happen later, either.
* * *
No actual gameplay in this one, but it serves as a backstory for the war with the Drengin which will, hopefully, be a major part of the coming story. Actual updates should follow sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Feel lucky.
