I have started writing little stories about a new game that I have begun playing. The game is Space Project. One aspect that I like about it is that the lore is pretty open to allow RP and character development besides flying around the universe and killing people. Without giving away too much, here is the first little bit of RP that I posted. I hope the piece is enjoyable.

Civilized Vengeance

The computer system finished its diagnostic program and displayed the results on the terminal. Dyrtan glanced over the read out and made a thoughtful noise that was a blend of a snort and a chuckle. His left hand glided across the Titanic Holo-Board, tapping floating keys of light without his gaze following along. Moments later, the screen showed an initialization box, then a three-dimensional representation of one of his subordinates.

“Commander Dyrtan, to what do I owe this most unexpected comm at this hour?” The officer was nervous. Dyrtan did not understand why.

After putting on his most sincere smile, Dyrtan responded, “Officer Blaketon, I am sending you some info. Please, see that it is taken care of.” The same left-handed movements over the light board sent the file to the other end of the screen.

The officer looked over the file, sighed, then nodded and closed the link.

Dyrtan leaned back in the hovering chair and looked over the tidy crystalline, clear desk. He kept it neat and organized. Everything had its place here on Ilanthia. Every colonist had a job. Every building had a purpose. Every resource had a use. He kept the world running like a well-oiled machine. He was annoyed because some people were stepping outside of their roles. The captain he placed in charge of the recycler had a tendency to go off and do whatever she damned well pleased. That recycler was in danger because of the freedom she had enjoyed.

His left hand drifted over the board again, and he was able to watch preparations for the upcoming mission. The scouts blasted off, propelled through a mixture of cloaking fields, gravitic technology, electronic combustion, and teleportation. He always loved seeing the explosions from the engines followed by the ripple of the stealth cloak, then the teleporter flash, and finally the gravitic shockwave emitted from where the ship had been. No ships in the universe could match the take off procedures of the Titans: a precise orchestra of advanced science, wisdom, and understanding, focused on the task of bridging the distance between here and there as quickly as possible.

Dyrtan pressed another holographic button on his board, and the visual display generator expanded the scope of his screen to be the size of a small house inside of his office. Another few key strokes altered the video feeds to tactical overview most showing the nearby star system from which the recycler was returning. The recycler was burning fuel reserves and all the energy it could to keep as far from its pursuer: a small contengient of fighters.

A low growl from Dyrtan’s throat vibrated all of the crystals in his office, and he muttered, “Moronic Free Colonists. You should know better.” The recycler was displayed as a green dot, non-combatant, civilian. Twelve fighters were marked with red dots for their hostile intentions. As twenty blue dots appeared opposite the green and red dots, Dyrtan gave a tight-lipped smirk and said aloud to himself, “Titans are neither prey nor predator. You are oh, so unwise to threaten our peaceful civilian operators.”

The fight began as soon as the recycler made it past the cloud of blue dots. It was not as incredibly one-sided as he had hoped. Before the end, five blue dots winked out. Small yellow dots streaked away toward the recycler. Life pods. No Titans would die in this battle. Eleven of the red dots winked out. There were no dots for their life pods. Silly Terrans believed in honor in death for their cause. They called themselves “martyrs.” The word did not translate into the Titan language.

The cloaking systems came back online, obscuring the remaining fifteen scouts from view where they were in space, but their dots turned grey on Dyrtan’s VDG. He fought the urge to laugh, as the final Terran ship retreated from the battle. The captain of that ship thought he was safe, that he had been spared, that he would rally more Terrans to the cause of the Free Colonist when he spoke in hushed tones about the fearsome Titan force that vanquished the rest of his fleet. The Terran was blinded by “glory,” another useless word in the world of Titans.

The grey dots surrounded the red one as it flew away. To the captain’s credit, he did not go straight back to his fleet base. He zigged and zagged to a few different planets, behind a couple of moons, and entirely too close to one star. All for naught, as the cloaks held on the scouts. Once the fighter landed, the real mission began. The scouts opened fire on several civilian targets, destroying a commercial ship yard and many homes. Before the defense systems of the Terran colony could come online, the scouts were cloaked and out of orbit again.

Dyrtan nodded at the results and tapped a few keys on the holo-board. The next order of business was…