Oolite Bulletins

Switeck wrote: ↑Thu Jan 11, 2024 5:31 am

In both of these examples you cite, a player's score is used as a "long passage of time" to base changes around.

1) Yes, the odds of a Thargoid dropping a jump core is totally player-centric! That's just how the original OXP did it...and I haven't changed that.

2) No, you misunderstand the premise... Thargoids always had jump capabilities not accessible by everyone else.

The anarchy engineers who can rig a Thargoid Warp Drive into a player (or NPC's?) ship "slowly" get better at interfacing "regular" ships computers/controls/etc. into the more complex features of the Thargoid Drive.
...But they never master it! Thargoids can do stuff (such as pull ships into interstellar space) that the player barely has any way of doing.

I've considered making the last version only available at the highest TL anarchies (TL 9?)...but haven't bothered to do that.

The whole idea that the engineer works at the main system station is as you say...rather contrived as Gal. Police as well as Galactic Navy would probably frown on such activity. And the main station is the only thing even nominally under their control in an anarchy system.

I do have some idea for making an ongoing mission using the capture/recovery of Thargoid Warp Drives for my Null Gates mod, but those details I will not elaborate on until I actually do something besides think about it.

The Dark Wheel (Robert Holdstock, §6)
...The streets were crowded here and it took Alex only moments to realise that the South City of this particular Coriolis station was the 'down town' area. Illegal trade abounded, in narcotics, robots, slaves, sensuastims, prostitution and frozen organs. Spacers walked slowly, cautiously, most of them still wearing near-full suit, a certain sign that this was the rough quarter. Hookers, of all sexes (the Galaxy counted seventeen at this time) and races, but mostly humanoid, solicited from hovering platforms, ready to escape fast from any over-welcoming, unwelcome client. Advertising hoardings here were almost completely devoted to proclaiming the illicit pleasures which were available in South City. Police cars and remotes roared overhead, as did med-ships. The streets were alive with noise and bustle and filth.
The Magellan building, a dark, squat cube, sat amongst this confusion like a great, brooding monster. It had no visible windows. Lifts rose and fell on its outer walls, slow-moving green lights that gave it an uncanny sense of being alive.
Alex had come without a hand weapon, and now began to regret it. Practically everyone—and everything—he saw carried a gun, in contradiction of orbit-space law. He walked cautiously through the crowds of reptilioids, cloaked amphibioids, armoured insectoids, squat, bristling felines, and the grotesque robo-tanks in which things that looked like giant molluscs, or worms, or branches of heather, moved within the safety of their own environment.
He entered the Magellan building and noticed the stench for the first time, the combined body odours of a thousand alien life-forms; surprisingly some—those who drank raw methane gas— managed to excrete sweat that smelled as sweet as apple blossom. But most did not.
The private trading centre was a vast hall, surrounded by the entrances to offices and warehouses. What was sold in this crowded, noisy place, was anything that was considered too risky, or bizarre, or commonplace to sell on the open market. The trader who loaded up his cargo bay from a private purchase had better check with the planet's export monitoring system before leaving, or his reception, at the other end, might be a little more violent than he'd expected.
Alex scanned the high walls for a hint of McGreavy's warehouse. As he did so he found himself standing behind two tall, violent-looking insect-forms, their bodies armoured in light grey, their facetted eyes swivelling to stare at him as they talked together, chelicerae clashing and clacking in their peculiar mode of communication.
Alex stepped away, heart beating, blood rushing to his head. Compound eyes, jointed limbs, head antennae, double cutting jaws . . . Thargoids! Here, on a space station!
Thargoids were deadly. Thargoid spacers had their fear-glands removed, and were considered to be the most effective and potent of humankind's enemies. The bounty for killing a Thargoid was huge, and for capturing and delivering the juvenile form, the Tharglet, to any Space Navy research centre, even greater.
What were they doing here?
The Thargoids chatted together and watched Alex coldly. Alex noticed that each had an appendage resting on its thoracic plate, where they holstered their hand-lasers.
'Back off,' a voice whispered, and Alex turned. McGreavy stood there blinking through his deformities. Alex had not grasped how short the man was; he only came up as far as Alex's chest.
'Thargoids . . .' he whispered.
'Bullshit,' McGreavy said, and dragged Alex away. 'They're Oresrians, and the one thing that can make an Oresrian deadly is being confused the way you've just confused them, with their deadly enemies the Thargoids. Check the thorax markings and the shape of the fourth joint on each hind leg before you jump to conclusions again . . .'
Alex followed McGreavy gratefully, away from the whispering insects.
McGreavy's warehouse was small, cramped and smelly. Alex followed him through into the dimly lit interior, and felt a pang of discomfort as the grotesque little man closed the doors behind them...

VIPER PATROL SHIP
This is the standard ship used by the Galactic Police Force. Being fairly small, it carries only one missile, but is very fast. The police force are not directly associated with the space stations, but are an independent agency, financed by the rapidly collapsing Galactic Government. Their main aim is to prevent trading in items still declared illegal by this Galactic Government, but they are being ignored in these rebellious days, even by most space stations, since a great deal of profit can be made from trading in such goods. They will try to come to their comrades' assistance if they are attacked, and will reap their revenge on a ship that destroys one of their own.

Cholmondely wrote: ↑Wed Jan 10, 2024 10:44 pm

This piece of equipment strikes me as rather player-centric.
1) The business of the chance of your getting it depending on your kill score seems bizarre.