Treecuu side of the border near the PCT Market station in the Badlands of Anarchy
A few weeks after the annexation of the homeworld of the Aryyt't

The lights flickered. Or that was actually an illusion. The captain of the RFS Utaar had explained the phenomenon to him: the ship's cloak altered the spin of the quarks somehow, and when it was deactivated, certain materials emitted photons, making it look like the lights were flickering. Or something like that. Whatever.

Special Emissary Cataat, a Treecuu insectoid, stood up from the comfortable bed in his quarters and made sure his robes were presentable. He had declined joining the captain on the ship's bridge during the first part of their journey to avoid the usual boring techno babble, but now he had to join her. Deactivation of the cloak meant that they had arrived at the border. Travelling with the cloak active in friendly territory was a precaution to obstruct attempts by the neighbours to track the ships to their bases. More techno babble. This at least made sense.

As Cataat walked to the bridge, he thought about the historical significance of his mission. Not only was he one of the very first diplomats who had been dispatched to an alien star nation, they would soon be crossing the Yuu-Laam border as well, the oldest and least changed border of the Star Empire. They knew very little about what awaited them on the other side. Signal seepage and active remote tracking attempts suggested a highly developed civilisation. His mission was simple yet meaningful enough: to learn more about their neighbours and hopefully establish some form of a respectful relation. And perhaps most importantly: to learn about their attitude towards the Aryyt't incident.

Cataat entered the bridge and was immediately called over to where the captain sat.

"Weapons and active scan disabled. First contact message playing. 'GO' from command. All ready to cross the border" reported the captain. She looked confident, but there was a trace of excitement in her eyes.

More techno babble, thought Cataat.

"Very well, captain. Let's proceed."

The sleek white cigar-shaped cruiser accelerated slowly, crossing the border at almost walking pace.

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My roleplay nations

Pacifica canon

Sedunn      Quick facts - Population: 26,016,343 - GDP: $1.53 trillion - Military: 354,000‬ personnel, 3.8% of GDP - King: Vimmru II - Foundation: Late Iron Age - Member of the WF and CPSC

Transsuneria Quick facts - Population: 1,003,504 - GDP: $20.637 billion - Military: 5,500‬ personnel, 0.75% of GDP - President: Emil Palmann - Foundation: 1905 - Member of the WF

A1-0 canon

Treecuu Star Empire

Aurora canon

Orawak Tribe

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Badlands of Anarchy



Not a lot of people knew what happened, and those who try to define it were left confused over and over again. To that outside of it, only see it as a hive of villany and rejection. Pirates! They say, as if everything was so black and white. The badlands existed to mix such ideologies, for in reality, everything happens in the grey area. One can be extreme in abhorring the placing pineapples in pizza, yet be nonchalant in the placing of strawberries, when the world saw it fashionable to detest both simply because fruit does not go in a savoury meal such as pizza. That was the idea championed by the Badlands of Anarchy, the Honaka system.


With such respect for chaos and anarchy, the snooty imperial fleets would see them as vulgar. Backwards minded people that see the only relief of achieving final progress, is to sate their cravings of money, food, shelter and sex. Are these not the basic principles of life and survival? How is it vulgar to become so fundamental to oneself. How is it vulgar to champion chaos, when accepting the idea that not everything is written so well is realism, and those that live in their high chairs are those that are so detached to what is true. That is what the godfather thought when he drew the banner for the badlands, an area unclaimed, hostile to those that think it perfect to pitch their flags, but welcoming to those that seek a home.


Popular in the A1-0 galaxy as the trashbin, indeed, the trash and waste from the other galaxies are processed in the Honaka system. The rest laughed at the scavagers that dove and process their filth, failing to realize that if no one were to process such filth, how then, would they cope with a speck of dust in their streets. Oh the agony! They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure, and such was the idea of the junkmen. Scavagers of the deep and filthy to create something new, either sold in the market stations of Amox and PCT, or processed by inventors to be sold back to the high and mighty. Imagine that, they gave the junkmen money to accept waste, and more money to get the thing they threw with a different package. What idiots!


If one would take a look away from the trash collectors, one may recall the mining exploit. How could it not, the badlands houses the finest minerals for energy and jewelry. The finest ones not because of their shape, noooo, because of the blood that was spilt retrieving it. No planet in the Honaka system is what a planetarian call inhabitable, but the miners and scavagers accepted it as their own home. Long hours and an encounter with sandworms, bandits and whatever pest the planet could throw at them made the minerals harder to mine, and all the more elusive. But perhaps interestingly, is the ability of the Honaka system to have precious items, no matter how bloody they are, pass through and be sold to the highest bidder. In the eyes of the Mama Boss, the Market Leader of the badlands, the price and the transaction is all that matters, the origins of an item, the blood it spilt is nothing short of trivial. Is it not the fairest commercial system in the galaxy then?


Of course, a huge population of the galaxy would only be reminded by the pirates that call the badlands home, and for good reason, where else would they go? The Honaka system is a place where everybody is welcome, and if their livelihood were to raid an imperial ship, then so be it! The imperials are rich enough, those in the badlands could do with the money even more. Those tired of waiting for them to act, and live out in search for money and adventure. Of course, not all the pirates see it like this, most of them are privateers, men for hire, bandits for hire, those that do not want to sully their hands with blood, and instead, throw credits to those that would, and the bitter truth, is that for the sake of a meal and shelter, they would do their best, and treat it with honor. Why should you be empathetic to them? They never did.


And thus, they never will be. The Badlands of Anarchy, where the lowliest of the galaxy intermingle, and where any transaction is possible. The three leaders of 3 occupation factions, the pirates, the merchants and the junkmen ensure that the chaos, remains chaotic, and propriety remains absent, for the idea is not order, but fairness.


The Godfather, Shen Anin-Ahn, is a warrior, a legend known in the galaxy feared for his piracy. His eyes set on gold, and shall follow the highest bidder. After raiding and destroying a Ryccian imperial ship for being nothing short of complete arseholes by insulting his cooking. He took some time to visit the mama boss in the PCT market system, he entered the atmosphere in his spacepod into the large rustbucket of a space station, that was larger within than out.


He walks regularly, passing through the steel and carbon floor of the landing bay, inviting others to nod at him in utter respect and gratitude for keeping the land safe and everyone fed. He continues and enters a hive of true capitalism and merchantilism, sellers and bazaar workers shouting their prices and all races intermingling to buy their wares. Anything was sold that day, and everything had a price. Few places could have so many people be at peace and kindness to one another, but they must follow and bow under one banner, money. The Godfather continues to walk his steps to the highest point of the marketplace, a tower that integrated with the spacestation, where stood the Mama Boss, looking over the grand auctionary for prized Treecan bread. A very rare delicacy indeed, her watchful gazes pierced the market, looking at the chaos and seeping it in. Everything must be a fair and proper transaction, and her black eyes are a testament to it. She accepts the entry of The Godfather beside her, nodding with respect to an equal. It was tea time, and he heard there was going to be a guest that day.

"毎日の小さな努力の積み重ねが歴史を作っていくんだよ。"

---

Put a little effort everyday and it will stack up and create a foundation for you.

- Doraemon


Treasure Island Awards Best Roleplay 2020
Treasure Island Awards Best Roleplayer 2020
Cocos Winner for Best Character Writer 2017
Cocos Winner for Best International Event 2017
Cocos Winner for Best Overall RP 2017

Things to know: Medical Intern and Biomedical Scientist from Indonesia, Muslim, 188 metres tall, loves trains

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PCT Market station

The voyage from the border to the station premises had been nothing like they had expected. There was no one to intercept them. No official response of any kind. And most importantly: no one to enforce any border. Everyone on the bridge of the RFS Utaar were almost in awe as the ship approached the market station. They had never seen so many different-looking ships in one place before. Space around the station teemed with life.

Daath, the communications officer, however, didn't have time to admire the view. She had to constantly analyse incoming messages that she deemed as promotional messages and trade deals, though she wasn't sure yet. Ignoring them didn't have any apparent consequences.

Captain Leen reluctantly turned away from the cultural melting pot projected on the view screen and approached Daath.

"Have you been able to make heads and tails out of the buzz? Any protocols for docking at the station?" the captain asked.

"No. But if you ever wanted to acquire a hundred self-sealing stem bolts, I believe there's a great deal for you." Daath smirked.

"Heh..." The captain scratched her forehead. "Well then. Continue transmitting our request to dock."

The captain returned to looking at the view screen.

"Helm, continue our approach to those hatches. If they don't respond I believe we should simply dock and enter. Like going to the local mall."

Special Emissary Cataat merely observed what was going on. He couldn't help but to feel robbed of his great career-defining moment. The great Treecuu, treated like a common junk trader.

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Manager of the TSP and A1-0 maps
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My roleplay nations

Pacifica canon

Sedunn      Quick facts - Population: 26,016,343 - GDP: $1.53 trillion - Military: 354,000‬ personnel, 3.8% of GDP - King: Vimmru II - Foundation: Late Iron Age - Member of the WF and CPSC

Transsuneria Quick facts - Population: 1,003,504 - GDP: $20.637 billion - Military: 5,500‬ personnel, 0.75% of GDP - President: Emil Palmann - Foundation: 1905 - Member of the WF

A1-0 canon

Treecuu Star Empire

Aurora canon

Orawak Tribe

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