View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8okXg2AlQWE
Long ago, when the world was new...
Humanity once spread itself from Earth to Venus, Mars, and Jupiter, nominally united under the universal brotherhood of the Earth Federation. Fusion power, built on Helium-3 extracted from Jupiter, armored by Lunar Titanium, and hardened by Martian halfmetal, created great and wondrous machines that allowed human beings to build homes in the stars...and fight horrifying wars. An escalating series of conflicts between the Earth Federation and its many far-flung colonies raged for decades, destroying much of humanity and their works, until finally the machines themselves and the electronic intelligences controlling them spiraled out of control and nearly exterminated the human species. This was the Calamity War, an apocalyptic conflict that was only ended by the efforts and sacrifices of heroes, and their carefully-crafted war machines. Jupiter was lost to humanity entirely, and the people of the inner planets were ravaged, but clung to life with the tenacity humankind is known for.
Those who survived created a new world order, to rebuild humanity from the ashes even greater than before. Old nations were re-established on the Earth, organized into great alliances that were meant to shepherd the solar system's resources and negotiate for their people in peace through a New United Nations, all overseen by the great peacekeeping organization created by the surviving heroes of the Calamity War, Gjallarhorn. Cities were rebuilt, new nations arose, and humanity reached out to each other across the stars once again. What's more, even newer wonders would be built by the revived humanity, with each of the three great alliances builting an orbital elevator to provide limitless power to their citizens, and a great web of communications satellites named Ariadne built from Earth to Mars.
Unfortunately, the lessons of the conflicts that had led to the Calamity War were quickly lost to the rebuilt civilization: the three great powers, called the Union of Solar Energy and Free Nations, the Advanced European Union, and the Human Reform League, fell to squabbling amongst themselves over resources, ideology, and base pride. Those far from the orbital elevators found themselves impoverished in the new economy of solar energy, having no choice but to fight for mere survival. Even more troublingly, the scramble for power once again led humanity down the path of exploiting their distant brothers and sisters. The Earth powers' cold zero-sum game expressed itself as a new colonialism, with colonies in space and especially on Mars being heartlessly exploited to fuel the industry of humanity's rebuilding homeland. Gjallarhorn, once the heroes of mankind, has grown into aloof enforcers of this status quo, exercising an iron grip on communication and transportation between the inhabited planets, challenged by rebellious militias and outspoken ideologues on Mars and the bickering of its ruling families, all while crime, corruption, and slavery fester in the crevices of society. It has been over 120 years since the end of the Calamity War, and mankind has already returned to the sins that caused it in the first place.
What's more, a series of events has thrown the world's ossifying order into chaos in the last decade. First came the fall of "Alien Space Ship 1", indisputable proof of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, which came crashing down to Earth nearly 9 years ago and provoked a barely-contained proxy war between the great powers over the secrets of its technology. Coupled with independent scientific breakthroughs on Earth and the discovery of new superconductor elements found buried on Mars, this has caused an explosion of research into new energy solutions that go beyond solar power, and accordingly, an explosion in weapons technology, with none of the world powers caring to police it beyond acquiring that warpower for themselves. The ongoing low-level conflict between Earth's great powers breeds unrest and terrorism throughout the world, while feeding the ambitions of massive mercenary armies. Most of all, people look at the stars and wonder: one alien artifact has already found its way to Earth. What will the next one be, and where will it come from? And what may have already fallen from the sky, æons ago?
All of that is of less concern to you than the particular drudgery of life on Mars, as that is where you were born. You remember nothing of your family or early life, only growing up in the streets, two steps ahead of starvation and one step ahead of being caught by Mars's criminal underworld and sold as Human Debris. You don't even remember who gave you your name, only that you've always been called
[] Saba
[] Write-in:
You were a young
[] Man
[] Woman
[] Person
of not inconsiderable talent for getting out of trouble, as much as you were equally talented at getting into it. To you, the Martian slums were an opportunity as much as they were a hazardous wasteland. You learned to rely not only on your own wits, but the quid pro quo or, dare you say it, mutual aid and respect of the other people stuck to the bottom of society. A meal in return for an odd job, some cash in return for looking tougher than the thugs that were looking to knock over a convenience store, a place to hide in return for help with running. It was a hard life, but you learned to find rewards where you could.
Your earliest memories are the haziest. People around you are strangers. Some of them dangerous, some of them kind, most of them ignoring you. You breathe in red dust under a blue sky - a generation ago, Mars was only inhabitable within sealed domes, but the terraforming nanomachines seeded here a century ago have moved to their final intended stage, creating a breathable atmosphere that shields most of Mars from radiation, and even rebuilding your body with the correct bone and muscle density despite the planet's low gravity. You are only aware of how hungry this process makes you, and the fact that most food that isn't the prepackaged stuff from Earth tastes disgusting. It's important to eat when you can, though, sharing meal bars in an alleyway with other orphans, trading scavenged metal for the occasional heavily-spiced "real" meal, and the dream of seeing a real cow one day, and eating as much of it as possible.
When you were ten years old, the people of Earth discovered the existence of alien life when a spaceship smashed into the ocean. At the time, you weren't 100% clear on what an ocean was, but the excitement of this unprecedented discovery filtered all the way to Mars through the Ariadne communication network, and all the way down to the bottom of society through human contact. In the excitement, every halfmetal prospector with a mobile worker to their name made their way out to Mars on the theory that if alien artifacts could just fall out of the sky, there could be plenty hidden on Mars. This led to a very great many people getting sick and dying to interesting new radioactive ores hidden in the Martian crust, and more people stumbling over remnants of the Calamity War they briefly confused for alien technology before stripping them for parts and Minovsky-Ahab Reactors. While no one (that you're aware of) found direct evidence of alien artifacts on Mars, this did mark the beginning of a change. Rather than being hopeless and destitute, Mars was discovering more riches the Earth hadn't extracted from them yet, and not all of that immediately went to the already wealthy, powerful, and connected.
"I'm going to come back from the desert with all kinds of alien technology!" you told your scattered friends and acquaintances. "Then I'll beat up Gjallarhorn and become make Mars my Kingdom - no, better, an Empire!"
No one thought this terribly funny coming from a pubescent child, but on the plus side, you didn't actually kill yourself. First of all, you could barely carry enough supplies to get out of the city, and second, you knew to avoid brightly glowing green rocks. What this expedition did teach you was the many uses of a knife, compass, and spyglass purloined from a pawn shop, the fun and profit of spotting ancient mobile suit frames to sell their locations to scrappers, and the importance of lying to Earthian carpetbaggers when they asked if you'd staked any claims. For the first time after this, you actually wound up with enough money you could bury it in a tin, without having to spend all of it on food and clothes.
When you were fifteen years old, the Vascilia County militia issued a planetwide call to rise up against the Earth, and renamed itself BAHRAM, an army dedicated to the liberation of Mars. At the same time, Gjallarhorn began cracking down on dissent, and encouraging Martian locals to protect themselves from dangerous radicals. Somewhere in the middle was the Martian Independence Movement, a loose coalition of politically-minded Martians who sought to negotiate Mars's independence from Earth, rather than kick off a ruinous war that Mars would likely lose to Gjallarhorn's overwhelming technological and logistical superiority. Regardless of desire, however, one thing was clear to you: war was coming, and simply being a human caught up in it was not something you considered a viable career path. With your skills, your talents, though...maybe you could be more than a simple human.
You are 17 years old, and the fact that you've made it that far is a miracle. You've drifted through life from disaster to disaster as iron dust on the Martian wind. You've had acquaintances, but none lasted long enough to become friends. You've had caretakers, but none had the resources to become family. You found the one shop in Chryse that sells decent snack cakes, and that is so far your greatest life's accomplishment.
You look up and see a recruiting poster for BAHRAM, all orange and black block text about Martians rising up to take what is their right. It's been hastily pasted over a Gjallarhorn recruitment poster, blue and white with the knightly image of a mobile suit contrasting the rather prosaic offer of cheap wages and a dental plan. Both have been scrawled on with "for a good time call" numbers.
You try to remember when you learned to read, and can't.
But that's not what's important right now.
The question, then, becomes this: will you seek to rise in status, to use the system to change itself, to build yourelf up and bend the world to your will? Or will you reign in hell, tear the unfairness of the world apart, and claw down the high and mighty from their thrones, that none may put their boot on your neck?
Will you be a
GOD? Or a
DEVIL?
[]
GOD
[]
DEVIL
Bienvenidos and willkomen to my very first attempt at running a quest instead of just snarking in the comments. My name is Nerdo, and I'm here to hyperfocus on giant robots, a genre of anime and video game currently experiencing a bit of a mild renaissance in the anglosphere. Super Robot Wars is an unbelievably prolific franchise of mostly strategy-RPG video games that posit the vital question "what if all your favorite robot anime coexisted in one big crossover fic, and you could make your favorite Gundam blorbo beat up a dinosaur with a god complex?" This quest, inspired most directly by the excellent Super Robot Wars Ø by afreaknamedpete and Super Robot Wars Null by aguynamedwafer, is an attempt to bring that crossover idea to SV in choose-your-own-adventure form. In this thread, you'll be directing the choices of a Martian mercenary of uncertain provenance and unknowable destiny as they navigate a web of politics, super-science, and alien invasion in a post-post-apocalyptic solar system made up of elements of a wide variety of different anime (and video games, and I'm putting at least one manga in here eventually). The overall format, once we're through "character creation" will be a sequence of Missions and Intermissions, with the former being multiple vote-round conflicts between our hero/heroine and their allies vs. the forces of antagonism, and the latter being made up of Scenes, Sub-Missions, and Research Actions chosen by Plan vote. But we'll get to that in the future. For now, please vote for
Name (Saba or Write-In)
Gender (Man, Woman, Person)
Starting Alignment (GOD or DEVIL)
As separate vote, not a plan.
This vote will close in 48 hours. Thank you