Compared to parts one and two, these ideas are a little off the beaten track.
In the Praetor's Name
Where: The edge of the Romulan Star Empire and beyond
When: 2364 and after
The D'deridex-class warbird is a city in space; fifteen hundred officers, soldiers and scientists dedicated to serving the Star Empire. As the Romulans' self-imposed isolation ends, you are stationed on the Imperial Romulan Warbird Haarux, on a deep-space mission of strategic expansion of Romulan influence.
Where: The Andromeda galaxy
Recent strides forward in understanding the transwarp technology used by the Borg has opened up a new frontier for the Federation to consider: the Andromeda galaxy. Aside from the Kelvan incident on Stardate [look it up] and scattered xenoarchaeological finds, little is known about the Milky Way's nearest galactic neighbour. The Perseus Project is a huge Federation undertaking that aims to establish a transwarp beachhead in the Andromeda galaxy, chart it, make contact with starfaring cultures there.
Under the Raptor's Wings
Where: Vulcan, Romulus, and the spaces between
When: From the ancient past to
A generational campaign following a single family line from the wars of archaic Vulcan, the rise of Surak and the exodus into space, the interstellar feuds of the proto-Romulan clans, the settlement of Romulus, the conquest of Remus, the establishment of the Star Empire, and the wars with the Klingons, Federation and the Dominion.
Where: San Fransisco Treaty Zone, North America
When: 2070, seven years after First Contact, seventeen years after the nominal end of World War III.
Millions dead, billions dying, nations laid waste, land, sea and air turned to poison and ash. It is the end of the world. But, among this devastation, strangers from the sky have come to walk among us.
San Fransisco is a city divided. You are security agents of the Eastern Coalition Control Zone, who grapple with police of the Provisional Cascadian Assembly to confront the threat of Neo-Greenist violence, depredations of survivalist 'liberty squads' from the Rocky Mountains, and the insane dreams of transhumanist cults.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Friday, January 15, 2016
We were a couple of hundred yards from the hill when Long suddenly said to him: ‘I say you’ve left your coat there. That won’t do. See?’ And I certainly did see it — the long dark overcoat lying where the tunnel had been. Paxton had not stopped, however: he only shook his head, and held up the coat on his arm. And when we joined him, he said, without any excitement, but as if nothing mattered any more: ‘That wasn’t my coat.’ And, indeed, when we looked back again, that dark thing was not to be seen.
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