Allow me to be the 1st to welcome you. I look forward to this. I'm sure your playing skills are as excellent as your story telling skills.keep up the good work.

Look forward to it.

Neat... seems to be written sort of as a Homeric saga (guess that's why your civilization has a Greco-Roman flavor). Looking forward to this.

Random question about the setup: Those races look almost identical to the ones from "The General and the President". Is there a reason you never play against the Korx and Yor?

As far as the difficulty goes, even if you can't pull it off, sometimes losing can make for as good AARs as winning can! I play on Tough (one level below), but I recently started a game with the Drengin AI set to "Gifted" (it's supposed to be set after the Dread Lords campaign with the Drengin dominating the galaxy, so I wanted them stronger then the others). So far, it doesn't seem that much stronger, as the "Intelligent" Yor are the biggest danger to everyone, even the Drengin.

The village of Paksos, Eastern Macademomia, Olympus Prime

Dec 15^th 2230

‘Sons!’  The shout from the grizzled father, ‘Castor!  Pollux!  The broadcast begins-you will not be late!’

‘Coming father!’ from a young boy perhaps in his mid teenage years and then the tumbling of feet down the Perspex stairs to the humble dwelling (only the poor or truly old fashioned used Perspex in these times).  Two lads, beautiful of mien, identical but yet quite different: the one with wild unkempt shoulder length hair and dirty ankle length boots.  The other was neat, clipped, reserved and cool.  His tunic was smart and clean and he held himself with a frosty arrogance that was well beyond his years.

Pollux, the untidy one, beamed and gasped an explanation,

‘Forgive father Castor here is like one of the village girls-he takes so long to get dressed!’  The boy threw himself down on the nearest couch without as much as a glance at his brother who surveyed the familial scene with a disdain bordering on contempt.

His father, a greying, stooped man of advancing years, who seemed too old for these boys, beckoned the recalcitrant over.

‘Come Castor, my son-why the long face?’  The usually stern expression softened ‘come sit with me.’

The boy reluctantly joined his father, nestling into his embrace and suddenly looking all his fifteen years.

The old man looked sad and wistful for a moment ‘I know you miss your mother son, we all do’ a squeeze of the lad’s slender shoulder, ‘now let’s see what our great leader has to say to us all-this is a momentous day boys-the first address of its kind to us and all the colonies of the Exiles!’

Pollux caught the moment and clapped excitedly-even his sibling allowed himself a small smile as their father keyed the remote control and brought the ageing sliver screen TV to life.  The familiar GNN news anchor, Trasimene Troilus was still going through the lead up-they were in time.

“…..and his Industrialist Party apparatchiks.  Dr Zeus has declared that with the colonisation of ten new worlds and the addition of an extra forty five billion souls to our population, now is the time to address the colonies and take stock of our position in this great galaxy…..”

Castor turned to his father confused.  He was a very intelligent child and mathematics was his strongest suit so he could not for the life of him work out how colonising ten planets and three years could suddenly yield a population growth of forty five billion.

‘It’s a galactic wonder called a Social Matrix my son. Once our top scientists had developed this miracle of science it has provided the power of acceleration and multiplication to starter civs on our new worlds.’

Pollux looked sceptical but Castor understood immediately, ‘Ah I see father-in other words what should have taken generations has been achieved in the space of a few years-clever indeed.’  The bright one seemed to chew this over suddenly gaining a newfound admiration and pride in his parent race.

‘Hush now our Leader speaks boys’ the father said, his eyes bright, ‘let’s see what gems he has for us-this is history in the making lads.’

The cameras panned to the dais of the Acropolis where the white robed leaders of the ruling Industrialist party were stood.  On both sides of the symbol of the political power of their people stood the serried ranks of the opposition parties-the largest of which was the Federalists: all were dwarfed by the numbers of their enemies, Dr Zeus’s Industrialists-a party dedicated to the mass production of social edifices and fast-burgeoning industrial-military complex.

Dr Zeus-white haired and white robed was a man of immense charisma and power.  He had to be as he and his immediate forbear had virtually single-handedly bullied and cajoled the planet into preparing for the great space race once our Terran cousins had shared the secret of hyperdrive with the rest of the galaxy almost 60 years previously.  No one knew how old he was-he never seemed to age.  What was certain, however, as he began to speak, was that this man possessed a vision and a foresight that would be sorely needed in the years ahead.

‘My fellow Exiles we stand at the cusp of momentous times.’

The twins, bright eyed, were rapt-their father had never seen them so transfixed.

‘Trade and a strong defence will be the cornerstones of our great race.  Already we have Freighters that have established multiple routes to our friends amongst the minor races and also to the Torians.’

There was a murmur amongst the watching crowds at the mention of the Torians-a water dwelling, pleasure loving race that professed to be ‘good’ but nonetheless had been particularly aggressive in its pursuit of colonisation. 

‘None felt the loss of our colony Zeuson more than I my friends-a planet that was my namesake and destined for stellar greatness-no.  But we are now at peace with the Torians even though they love us not.  We have five trade routes with them-I would bind them to us with the power of the free market and at the same time build our defences....’

Castor turned to his father again ‘Why do the Torians hate us so father and why do they feel they have to declare war on everyone?  Aren’t they supposed to be the good guys?’

Before his father could speak, Pollux interjected with more than a hint of scorn in his voice, ‘Oh Cast-everyone knows that the Torians are extremely territorial-something to do with their racial makeup-weren’t you listening in our interplanetary racial studies class?’

‘Quiet son!’ from the father ‘You are only partially correct for the behaviour of the Torians is exercising some of the greatest minds in the Government at the moment.  Hush now-listen to the Leader.’

‘...our friends and allies from Altaria have recently sent me a message requesting military and economic aid in their war against the Torians.  We have assisted with the sharing of some of the technological advances that our brilliant scientific minds have made possible in such a short space of time.’

Suddenly there was a roar overhead and a squadron of brand new Phoenix Space Superiority Fighters flew past in perfect formation-bright contrails in the scarlet red of the national colour.  The craft spread like the tail of a bird, inverted into a vertical plane and then roared up into the sky-no doubt headed for deep space.

The Leader smiled: he had planned this, after all.  ‘And as you see we are on the third generation designs for our defence craft-these are equipped with deflector shields as well as rudimentary beam weaponry-we now have a fleet of 78 fighters and defenders to protect our worlds and will not be sized up as easy pickings in the hungry eyes of such as the Drengin or Korath.’

At the mention of these two races Castor gave an involuntary shudder as he sat in his father’s embrace-Alexandro Ohirides in turn squeezed his son’s shoulder to provide some reassurance.  The Korath especially were the stuff of nightmares it would seem and were apparently hell-bent on enslaving all of the other populations in the galaxy-war with them would have to come at some stage.

Pollux meanwhile was in raptures at the sudden appearance of the space craft-to say he was an enthusiast was an understatement-he spent most of his waking hours on the e-net researching the latest technical specs of the newest type of craft

‘Father!  Father!  Mark 1 Phoenix’s-wow!  Did you know they’re equipped with the latest Particle Beams and have five crew-five crew!  Do you know what each does?’

‘Son-quiet or we will miss the last of Dr Zeus!’

‘Yes hush by Heracles Pollux-what’s the use of watching the address if all we can hear is your shrill voice!’  Castor enjoined, ‘We all know that you are going to be “the best pilot in the fleet” sometime but a little quiet reflection would be nice sometimes...’

‘...there is no doubt that difficult times lie ahead but our newly established Interspecies Agency puts us third in the galaxy militarily so we grow stronger defensively.  We are first in terms of production so we have the capability to expand into the stars and we have a treasury second only to the Korath so we will be able to ally strength with the allure of our economic power.

So finally, citizens of the Exiles I make you a plea.  We need your sons and we need your daughters.  Send them to us so that we can populate our growing military Academies.  Send them to us so that we can establish autonomous governance on all of our colonies and continue the strong leadership that is provided by not just my party but all of the parties on Olympus Prime and here in the Agora.  Send them to us so that all of you can share in the bounties, the discoveries and the wonders that stand on our threshold.

Citizens of the Exiles-I thank you.’

And with that the Great Leader was gone his words ringing in the ears of all those that heard him (which was almost two thirds of the population on all the worlds belonging to the Exiles).  But, above all, his final passionate plea was seared in the hearts of two boys on the cusp of manhood-the one determined to join the Great Leader in his political quest, the other with dreams of martial exploits at the helm of some great starship.....

Wow, you just can't get along with those Torians, can you? Did the Zeus colony mentioned defect, or did they invade it? I suspect the latter as you aren't at war with them...

Liking the angle the story's taking - it's nice to see an AAR from the perspective of 'the common man' rather then the civ leader or a similiarly important position.

Like the screenshots too. Screenshots are always good, and map screenshots are among the best. Personally, I think every AAR that isn't a total fanfiction should have some screenshots, but that's just me.

Just one random comment - why did you select gray as your race color? There's so many gray races already - you might have difficulty telling your ships apart on the map.

Fantastic..those vile water monkeys are back again..destroy them and sell them as sardines..hehe.

December 1^st 2231

Sector 11-12, Far Reaches of Exiles Space

Aboard the ESS Perseus on a Student Exploration Mission from Olympus Prime to newly colonised planet Heraon 

‘Right kids-buckle up-we are about to enter Hyperspace’ announced their Pedagogus, Tralion, a fresh faced young man in his early twenties.  He was clearly as excited to be on this Student Mission as his young charges. 

Pollux, his friends and College mates obediently did as they were told just before the lighting in the ship dimmed and altered in hue to a subtle vermillion.  Pollux and his twin had recently turned sixteen but, in truth any excitement he had felt at the rather quaint party that his father had thrown for he and his friends had been quite overshadowed by the thrill of knowing that in less than a month he would be here aboard the Exiles Flagship. 

He had done his homework-he knew every spec for this ship and had done since he was a very young boy.  This was an Odyssey Class explorer: the first and only one of its type.  It had been commissioned before he was born and fitted with sophisticated (for the time) survey sensors allowing it to scan, analyse and process everything from space junk to unknown matter and temporal distortions.  It displaced 0.001 million metric tonnes, was 295m long and 299m wide and was designed to look like the eagles that sometimes soared amongst the high peaks of the Antares Mountain Range that towered over Paksos and its surrounding villages. 

This particular craft was commanded by one Euphemes Estios, a Tetrarch-a high honour for such a relatively low rank within the fledgling Space Force.  He had 20 men and women under his charge in the ship-all busy at all hours with the various scientific instruments and with flying the craft itself-no easy task given its mission to push the boundaries of known space and report back the findings.  And Pollux was here aboard, taking in the sterile electronic smell, the hum of the twin Heaven Ascension Ion  engines, the constant low beeps of systems and monitors and the occasional pleasant but assertive tone of the Ship’s computer:.  The crew had nicknamed her “Hera” after the Queen of the Gods, but not for any reasons of majesty, rather for all her hectoring tones that reminded them of how the Queen was always after her spouse, Zeus, for his philandering ways. 

Pollux and some of his peers were part of a programme launched by the Government a year previously to get the citizens involved at an early age.  This was the Hermes Scholarship for all those gifted with a bent to becoming ships captains and pilots, whether in the Navy or the Merchant Fleet, plying the newly established Trade routes between the Exiles’ planets and those of the numerous civilisations beyond their borders.  It was only awarded to the technically most gifted and those with a natural flying aptitude-needless to say Pollux had passed all the tests with ease and now was reaping the dividends.  Next summer he would enrol at the Naval Academy in Agora province near the Capitol and would finally embark on the start of his great adventure.

 The number of those alien civilisations had been reduced in April of that year as news spread throughout the galaxy of the fall of the insectoid Thalan Empire to the Drengin hordes.  No exile had shed any tears for a race that instinctively had them shivering in disgust.  “The only good bug was one at the end of your boot” was a mantra that every human bar the scientists and naturists subscribed to viscerally.  To interact with sentient oversized versions of these creatures was a different matter.

The Acropolis, Agora

Olympus Prime

As his twin contemplated future adventures at the Academy and in the Navy, Castor was being shown around the Agora itself. As bright as his brother was in all matters naval he had decided to devote himself to somewhat more prosaic matters: politics.  He was already the College’s best debater and was also the Head of the region’s Young Industrialists.  This trip had been meticulously planned by him and his co-leader for the area, Pan Tekhosis.  They had received such enthusiastic support from the party’s national apparatchiks that a visit to the Acropolis was hastily put together and even a short meeting with Dr Zeus himself was thrown in.  When Castor had opened the rather official looking e-scroll on his sliver-pad, he had almost fainted at the news.  His father, for his part, had clapped him in a warm embrace, 

‘Well done son-you will make us proud one day! I know-you make me proud now.  I firmly believe that the humble village of Paksos will celebrate you as one of its most famous sons.’ 

‘Oh father stop!’  Castor had groaned, wriggling out of his father’s hug but smiling broadly nonetheless ‘you go too far as usual.’ 

‘Mark my words son-I have the sight: I know these things. 

Castor had stopped smiling at that.  His father did indeed have some sort of ability to divine things yet to pass.  He had foreseen his own wife’s passing and the burden of that loss still weighed very heavy on all of them. 

Seeing the look on his son’s face Alexandro adopted a more serious tone 

‘Just make us proud my boy-I know you will.’ 

That had been two weeks ago and now here he was being shown around the Agora’s Acropolis: the seat of power and governance for every Exiles planet.  Thinking about planetary control and the fact that the Guide was discussing the twelve systems made him interject: ‘Odigos forgive my interruption but I have heard that the Colonies are all pushing for greater autonomy and a higher degree of freedom in managing their own affairs.  Is that something that Dr Zeus is likely to acquiesce to?’ 

The Guide smiled and turned to face his interrogator, ‘Castor Ohirides I presume?  Your reputation already as a young politician precedes you sir.’  There were laughs and smiles all round at this.  ‘But maybe you would like to ask our great Leader himself?’ 

Gasps all round as eyes swivelled round on stalks to alight upon the tanned, bearded features of Dr Zeus himself, who had seemingly crept up on the group without anyone noticing.  His Aides and Security Detail were a respectful distance behind. 

‘Welcome Scholars of Athena’ he declared smiling broadly ‘there are those who seem to think that I will carry on indefinitely but my creaking bones say otherwise-it is to you that I and all of the political elite will look to when we are gone, for you are the brightest young minds on all twelve planets.’ 

Castor’s heart swelled with pride, not least because he could discern no dissembling in the Leader at all-unusual for so successful a politician-he genuinely seemed elated to have a bunch of 16-year-old political activists scampering around the dusty foundations of the ancient Agora. 

Dr Zeus beckoned the group down from the Acropolis’s rather crumbling upper storeys to the somewhat more modern debating area.  Here modern simcom technology nestled comfortably amongst the chipped stone. 

‘Here, boys, we politicians are able to keep an eye on all of our systems and monitor the movements and flight paths of each and every one of our ships both Trade and Military.’  He looked around proudly and let his gaze settle on the young Ohirides, ‘you sir have a question?’ 

Castor was somewhat taken aback by the fact that Zeus had known he was about to query why this level of information was available to all of the Council Members when it was more suitable for the Military alone and maybe an inner circle of high-ranking government ministers at most-he held his tongue, however. 

‘Democracy boy!  That’s what this exercise in freedom of information is all about.  I want all the politicians to be involved in what we do regardless of political persuasion.’ 

Nothing deterred or even over-awed Castor swiftly responded ‘I see Great Leader-it does make sense, as you also bind them to you in responsibility and accountability if they, too, can see and influence all.’ 

The Great man was suitably impressed and his beaming smile grew wider yet.  ‘You are a clever one-I hear great things of you.'  He leaned forward almost conspiratorially, 'my Senators from your area inform me that you are a Planetary Consul in the making!  Can thsi be true lad?’ 

There were gasps of shock at this and not a little jealousy from several of Castor’s classmates that had made this trip: Planetary Consul was a post that did not exist yet but was mooted to be that designated for the two representatives from each world that would sit on any putative Federal Council.  The fact that the good Doctor was prepared to share such a secret with them caused not a little wonder. 

Castor was about to press the Leader on the matter of whether it was wise to have directed no less than two thirds of the People’s Trade Freighters towards the inimical Torians-a race that seemed to be getting more belligerent by the week- when suddenly there was a commotion from the far side of the Agora.  Voices were raised, shouts, and people pushing.  Suddenly the Leader’s Chief of Staff appeared by his side, whispering urgently in his ear. 

It is a measure of the man that not a flicker of emotion passed his smooth, handsome features, whilst the news was imparted. He eyed the now gathering throng that the students had suddenly become a part of and addressed them all: 

‘Citizens I have grave news from our friends and allies in Altaria-they have surrendered to a race we are unaware of called the Arceans. It seems that despite our financial aid they were simply too hard pressed on all sides by the Drengin, Korath and Torian menace.’  He paused to let this momentous news sink in.  Our one true ally in this vast galaxy was gone-swallowed up by an unknown race called the Arceans? 

Castor’s mind was racing: didn’t this now put the Torians in an extremely strong position where they were concerned?  It was a sore point with his father  but, much as he hated to admit it there were times when his insight was so piercing as to be almost prescient.  Now was one of those moments for the very next instant the giant Fusion Screen at the north end of the Agora as well as every Sliver-pad and monitor sprang into life.  The slavering features of a rotund Torian appeared gasping and spluttering into what must have been a Universal Translator, 'Exiles your time for existence as independent beings capable of your own free will is at an end-the Torian Hegemony is at hand.  We declare war!’ 

Then the ghastly spectacle was gone leaving men, women, and the Scholars of Athena gaping in open-mouthed horror at what this would all mean. 

Only one man kept his composure, gathering his Governmental inner circle around him, barking orders, and moving swiftly for the High Council Room. 

Amongst the youngsters however all Castor could think about was his brother all alone, defenceless in the fastness of space with swarms of Torian fighters all around: it was too much for him and he broke down in tears. 

It was a dark day for The Exiles and for the Ohirides clan...

Gah! Blasted Torians! I always thought the Torians in my games were aggressive but this bunch make them look like tree-hugging pacifists. I've always kind of seen the Torians as Babylon 5 Narns (i.e. they might have been nice guys once but after a few millenia of slavery they've got a bit of a grudge against the world) but the Torians here, especially, seem like nothing so much as cheap Drengin impersonators. BTW if they, the Drengin, and the Korath were all attacking the Altarians, why weren't you at war with any of them (in regards to the Altarian SA and your alliance)?

On a minor note, how'd the Drengin take out the Thalans? Judging from the previous screenshot's mini-map, the Thalans were on the other side of the galaxy (your characters' responses seemed a bit unfair, incidentally - compared to some other insectoid races of sci-fi, the Thalans are positively cute).

Also, I don't think it's been detailed yet, but where are the Exiles exiles from? Just curious.

As regards your current dire situation, would it be possible to set the Torians and either of the Drengin races against each other? I've survived a number of superior enemies by bribing as many races as I can to attack them. For that matter, you mentioned you began as Close to the Terrans - any help there?

Toria delenda est! (OK wrong classical civilization, but whatever.)

Edit: There was one brief lapse into first-person - something like "He turned his eyes towards the crowd and addressed us" - towards the end.

Oh and as for Alliances and supporting the Torians I usually sued for peace as soon as I could via tech Trading and money-cowardly I know but building up my Fleets and Trade are more important at this stage

Yes sorry guys I was hoping to write this week whilst away from home but I forgot to print and bring the screenshots which I use to build the story

Hopefully will have something for you next week

I take a two week vacation and still no update?

You're not letting us down so long as you keep posting updates eventually... so many of these have just been abandoned completely. Even just something like that last post reassures me that this AAR isn't dead yet.