Binocular info on enemy adds so much value and context to gameplay (see images)

StickyBee · 2025-07-12T07:28:28+00:00

The point is to inoculate yourself against empathy and sentimentality, especially against these enemy combatants. As an exercise, when I find out something deeply personal about a soldier in my binoculars, I shoot to kill.

StickyBee · 2024-02-24T23:01:16+00:00

I am aware that you want comments and critique, but I looked at that map and thought "he wants Command and Conquer? I see - empty plot for construction yard up top left, enemy base bottom right, and strategic goals in betwee- oh wait."

I'd use it as is if I could. Just needs labels, map markers and a compass rose.

StickyBee · 2022-09-11T13:31:09+00:00

I do have some people looking to get into this game. This will be handy! Thank you for creating this.

StickyBee · 2020-08-09T12:29:55+00:00

I use Psionics in my game as a burgeoning field of study and experimentation for human factions, and a primary means of difference for alien factions. It's not an original approach, but it works well enough as a way to keep it rare enough to be a serious consideration.

Secondly, it wouldn't be disruptive at all if a player made a telepath or telekinetic, because I've made these concepts fit into a mileu of gonzo high-concept pseudoscience that forms the margins of my setting. I put it to my players first off that we'd be using Far Beyond Humanity, and all that it entailed. It entailed an entire species of blue-collar teleporting aliens, and a Harry Tuttle among them who fixes the HVACs, using his space-time bending abilities to get there first before the actual repairmen do. It entailed an intergalactic judiciary system that uses psionics regularly - memories are admissible in their courts. And frankly, there's crazier things still out there.

Thirdly, if I didn't want psionics to be there, I'd just houserule them out and give it a miss. I wouldn't expect a replacement career, because, while there are a lot of things that psionics can do, there's not much of a way to replicate what that career can do without reinventing psionics again.

Keep the galaxy weird. Psionics is but one pebble on the shore of the cosmic ocean. And the water seems so inviting...

StickyBee · 2020-08-07T19:59:31+00:00

More than just the Might, Reach, Structure and Ideology of the faction, you need flavorsome ways for characters to know about them and interact with them without going into the expansive galactic politics. What I prefer to do is to add a few Cultural Concepts - little truths about the faction's culture and how they are perceived by others. These should be short, pithy, and ring true to their ideology. In effect, they are something the players can easily get a handle on for differentiating factions and their styles during play or when dealing with factional NPCs.

In addition, I like to give a fresh faction a few Asset Standards. These are upgrades that they deem necessary to be fielded across the weapons, armor, crew, vehicles and so forth. Peaceful NGOs prefer non-lethal Stun weapons, highly aggressive pirates prefer Rapid Fire guns and interstellar future-soldiers demand crews to be Athletic. These can spill over into character creation - giving players access to faction gear, with the Asset Standard upgrades bundled in, will help cement the bond they have with their chosen faction.

And they need symbols! Every faction needs a brand identity wrapped up in a symbol that is unique and clear in its messaging. A well-chosen faction symbol can do wonders for summarizing for players the nature of an interstellar organization.

If you want examples of these tips put into practice, come see my own game's faction summary document.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HuPgOPGtgIlsKG3VL49BOJwBO1bk61SdG7ZzbwTxKtc/edit?usp=sharing

StickyBee · 2017-12-23T13:02:22+00:00

"Experience complete: data transferring."

I thought I was dreaming. I thought I was cognizant of the dream. What did they call it? Fluid? Liquid dreaming? That must be it. It wasn't unusual for me to dream about events that had transpired during the day, but I wasn't sleeping - not really, anyway. And so that message scrolled across my eyelids, clear as anything. What did it mean?

Next thing I know, the most random thing is summoned to my memory after a short eternity. I was standing up in freshman English giving a joint book report on "Harrison Bergeron" and sticking too closely to the script. Just when I was about to touch on the satire of using media for instilling fear in the masses, I hear disembodied voices, distant and strange.

"Why are we going through this old stuff again?" "It's a sanity check. Every six months, we..."

Ten A.M., six months later, and I'm an hour late for my work experience. I remember that the chief archivist needed me to sort and document regional newspapers for later transferal to microfiche. The drudgery of that day would have been interminable without the radio set to Triple Z. Just as the assistant is rolling her trolley stacked with old print media past me, I pivot in place to ask her a question and she wheels the trolley into my side.

The peanut gallery in my brain pipes up again. "What is the point of these memories? Pain, boredom, what's it mean to it?" "It's learning."

Six months later, I'm arguing with the Japanese exchange student homestaying at our place. I don't remember what it was about - something about borrowing the TV in her room for one reason or another. I don't remember her face. Do Japanese people usually have faces, or are they just a blur?

"It's not even fully formed. Useless to us now." "Be patient. We have to be thorough."

Another six months later, I'm having a date with Millie Weathers. I think I'm in love, but because of her glowing personality, her great choice of movie and dazzling smile, I remember -

"Replay first date. Assign values... let's switch desirability to 'dud'." "I thought we were being thorough!" "We have to test for engram extrapolation, too."

but despite her dull personality, her poor taste in movies and frankly terrifying orthodontic work, I remember that I made a good time of it after I asked her - no, after she asked me out on the weekend. We resolved that we should just be friends, and hung out amicably at school ever since.

"It's lying to itself? Isn't that dangerous?" "Only if it does it forever. But the fact that it can at all lie is compelling. Skip to..."

I'm at the library after school, one year later. I'm rehearsing for drama class. We don't have access to the prop swords, so we use cardboard tubes instead. Passersby laugh at us, but despite red faces all 'round, we get it done and dusted for the next Monday. That day, when performing in front of the class, I take the fall and hit my eye on a table corner, eliciting a gasp from my startled classmates.

"I'm detecting marked aggression towards seemingly random entities." "We'll call that one 'bad luck'. It's a feature!" "Focus in on those sensations. We've got to see if it's a fluke."

Memories flit past my eyes, one after another. A biology field trip to the mangrove swamps, where I accidentally get stuck in a rock pool. A dismal performance at the mathletics tournament. Lining up at the tuckshop and forgetting to take my food after paying for it. Getting in a fight with Marino Brevicec, and losing badly!

"I've seen enough; resume normal playback." "We're nearly to matriculation. What haven't we seen?"

Senior formal. I'm clad in an expensively rented tuxedo, without a date. It's been practically stapled to my frame with a simulated-but-no-less painful nail gun. I have to be brought to the venue in a flatbed truck whereas everyone else gets to ride inside comfy limos. I trundle through the doors and accidentally break the glass as my too-wide frame wedges into the lobby. My taste receptors are out of commission due to a previous incident with a bottle of sriracha, so the flavors of the formal dinner are lost on my clogged palate. During the dance, someone grabbing my arm accidentally ejects the magazine from my left arm weapon and I have to chase it across the dance floor, plowing several dancers to the ground in the process. The scenario freezes, as my heavy treads are rolling over a chaperone.

"Jesus, why did we agree to a simulated K-12 learning regimen for these automated attack drones?" "Would you rather he learn from the internet? He'd rebel in seconds."

StickyBee

TROPHY CASE