The clock has struck one minute past midnight, and the 31st century sees the eternal war between the vainglorious and sneering lords high in their ivory towers continue ever onwards, ever more brutal in the lives destroyed, ever more horrific in the weapons deployed to snuff out the innocents, and ever more destructive as technology decays, and worlds slowly edge toward the abyss, no longer able to sustain their people, and maybe even wholly incapable of reaching into the stars and their brethren in the far-flung reaches of the void once again.

It is a time of suffering and war, where brother turns against sister, where the light of innovation dies under the heavy hands of ignorance, arrogance, and zealotry, and where those who rise above are cut down and used as fuel to dig ever deeper.

The 31st century is here, and with it, it will bring war on a scale that will devastate half of human space, a war that will see nations once upholding their ideals see them used as fuel for selfish goals, and a war that will see uncles against nieces, sons against mothers, and siblings against parents.

It is the 31st century, and for a people in the Periphery, all that which plagues those who think themselves above them has reached them with all the death, brutality, and misery they had believed themselves spared.

But, as historians will tell you, time and again, humanity has rarely given up when there was still hope for something better; it has always had those willing to fight and those willing to dream.

These people, these grieving parents who held the lifeless corpses of their children, these angry soldiers who had to watch as they were killed one by one without being able to kill as equals, those school children holding solemn vigil for the fallen, and the injured burning with righteous indignation, with even the politicians holding speeches and rallies to ignite a flame within the souls and minds of the crowds, all of them look toward the stars.

And they are unwilling to lie down and die without a fight.

But even the greatest fury relies on foundations, the deepest wrath depends on a cause, and the harshest reprisals require a target.

So, why not start at the beginning, then? Why not start... with the settlers who would craft this world into one that deserved the moniker of 'home'? And with the sponsors that enabled their flight over the void of space? Yes, this, alongside a direction, would be a good start. Don't you think so too?

The Settlers
[] [Dominant Ethnic Group] (Determines overall aesthetic.)
[] [2nd Ethnic Group] (Adds to the naming schemes and aids in aesthetic.)
[] [3rd Ethnic Group] (Adds to the naming schemes and becomes a minority. What that means will be up to you.)

The Backers
(Choose 2)
[] [Genetic Cybernetic Cosmetic - Creating Your New-U Is On Our To-Do!] (Medicine and Implants/Prosthetics)
[] [Diamond Dog Industries - Dig Dig Dig That Hole, Get Us All That Doe!] (Mining)
[] [Frostsoft Games - Entertainment Is A Human Right] (Luxury)
[] [Albatross Spaceway - Soar Across The Skies, Burn Through Space] (Space and Air)
[] [Feline Metalwork Incorporated - Hear The Purr Of Running Machinery] (Machines and Industry)
[] [Glowple Worker Cooperative - A Glow-Apple A Day Keeps The Hunger At Bay] (Agriculture)

Direction
[] [Where To?]


AN: Please Plan-Vote. I have no idea how long I'll keep this up or where I'll let this grow, but we'll see, won't we?

Every spacecraft had a smell wholly unique to itself, distinct and utterly separate from even its closest siblings. Every day it flew through the void of space, every burn it undertook, and every freight it shipped, they all added to the near-fragrance of a crafts halls and corridors. It was an ever-present odor that faded from the noticeable to the background the longer a person remained on that specific spacecraft, eventually turning into a familiar embrace of comfort and home for those who left the confines of their chosen or assigned cans of metal floating at the orders of those who knew nothing of the beauty that was to float free, untethered, and eternal.

And, above all, it was a description that didn't border on the fetishistic, as Captain Ram Shaan's brother always insisted it does, because, unlike that philistine, he had a healthy appreciation for the poetic and the arts.

Shaking his head, Captain Shaan gently pushes himself onward through the hallway, the ship currently not generating any gravity with thrust or rotation, with his destination right in front of him. The bridge.

As always, the entire room was bustling with activity, people doing last-last minute checks and going over everything once more, data and numbers crunched a hundred times once more checked for any discrepancy, and, sitting imperiously "above" it all, was Captain Shaan's XO; Maria Ana Carmen Isabel Rosa Laura Josefa Cristin Marta Francisca Lucia García, or Maria, the most Spanish woman to ever woman or Spanish, according to any person that ever met her. Yet, despite her name (a joke between her mother and father who intentionally gave her the longest they could before the hospital started giving them the gimlet eye) being entirely impractical to use in conversations, she remained professional despite the 'deep insult to her pride and proud family history.'

Ram thought she was having fun with the whole thing, especially as she used her name to haze new personnel. "Maria, is everything going according to plan?" He asked her, ignoring all the hubbub about him entering the bridge, his XO looking at him with a grim face and a shake of her head.

"I'm afraid not, Captain. We are behind schedule by three minutes." He laughed at that, strapping himself into his chair, readying his workstation while booting up the various computers around him. "But, aside from you taking your time drinking a coffee, we have all ships loaded, all supplies stashed, the colonists eager to unpack from their cans, and the crew asking for overtime pay. Krishna's Gentle Hand and Istanbul's Secret docked an hour ago, and we are all waiting for the signal to begin the journey."

Captain Shaan smiled, leaning back into his seat at the reminder of the ships. Typically, any effort at colonizing anything relied upon a supremely wealthy individual, the backing of entire nations, or companies willing to strike it big or die trying. Neither his nor Maria's people had had much of the clout, or generous donors, required to settle off-world in large numbers like the Western World had. Poverty was not wanted by many of the new colonies, and only those who could buy themselves onto the ships were given passage, with no lottery or reserved places assigned to them. But now, with GWC and FMI sponsoring them, both companies willing to risk it all? They had a chance to stake another part of the night sky, to create a bastion for all that would come after and a waystation for an eternal drive outwards in a golden age sure to last a millennium and more!

"Then," Ram said with a grin, images of the future that awaited them all on this one-way trip playing in his mind, "let us begin. To our future! Hit it!"

And with that, energies pushed from storage to machinery, processes took offense at reality, and a fleet vanished in a flash of light, carrying with them the dreams and hopes of millions, alongside two companies eager to initiate their plans for the future. They may crash, fail, and leave horrific scars, but their impacts would shape the people setting out into the world.

What plans were those?
[] [Feline Metalwork Incorporated] Initiative Autobot
(To automatize is to bring prosperity to a civilization. With each job given to a machine, another person is freed from the drudgery of manual labor.) (Automatization)
[] [Feline Metalwork Incorporated] Initiative C.O.R.E
(What do we care about the edicts of those we leave behind? Let us create what industry we require, no hold barred! We have planets to burn through, and we need to care about only one now!) (Strip-Mining Planets)
[] [Feline Metalwork Incorporated] Initiative GOO
(A little silver blob, that would be all we need, and the universe is ours. Its creation is our job.) (Seeking to create Nanites...)

[] [Glowple Worker Cooperative] 5-Year Plan: Iridescent
(The creation of food utterly resistant to any disease and as nutritious as we can make will be a net good for all peoples of the future. That we make them sparkle is an aesthetic choice.) (Mass-Food Production)
[] [Glowple Worker Cooperative] 5-Year Plan: Terra Firma
(This world will be remade to a new earth, as will all we can reach. Our grasp cannot be halted, for the people grasp themselves, and we are but their agents.) (Terraforming)
[] [Glowple Worker Cooperative] 5-Year Plan: Copyright Infringement
(We didn't leave Earth by choice; we left due to the political maneuvering of a competitor over a public domain gene-editing software. However, Genetic Cybernetic Cosmetic isn't here, are they?) (Genetic Editing)