#RPG – MotSP, Satana Station, Pod 101: Wobot World

[Don’t judge me man. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. When life takes a shit in your punchbowl, use it as fertiliser for your imagination].

A beaded curtain – made of bolts, tied onto fishing line – grants you access to a pod that has been converted into a robot repair shop. There are pieces, everywhere, organised by body configuration and location. Part of the workshop is closed off, off limits, behind an armoured secondary door, much tougher than the airlock hiding the pod.

A boxy robot, with tentacle arms and a viewscreen for a head is constantly indexing the parts and re-sorting them, as well as carrying tools to and fro to the man you take to be the proprietor.

Another droid, some sort of patchwork creation from bits and pieces of other, industrial robots, perches on the edge of the work table, sucking on a cigarette holder that occasionally issues sparkling smoke. Her hard angles tear through the lace and silk of her clothing here and there, giving her a strangely sexual, mechanical look. Like someone dressed a muscle car in a teddy and stockings.

He is a rangy-looking fellow, with a long, well-oiled beard, groomed into a point, a handlebar moustache and his dirty-blonde hair is pulled up into a tight man-bun. He turns from the sparking soldering he’s performing on a robot chassis and regards you with bulky, obvious, cybernetic eyes. A pair of cybernetic clamps, attached to extra arms, protrude from his sides, looking disconcertingly like yellow-and-black striped lobster claws.

“Hey! Welcome to Robot World. Can I help you?”

Lord Adama Kobol

Dispossessed from his migratory family of space-lords, Adama settled on Satana to indulge the very thing that got him exiled – klanking. Adama puts a great deal of effort into organising klanker pride events, fighting for robot rights and even making himself more and more robotic, but it all feeds his twisted perversion. He’s not just a klanker, but an auto-robophile and he particularly likes to have sex with helpless, deactivated, non-sexual robots when they come in for repair. Despite the whispering campaign, his specialist knowledge on running mods and conversions on klankers to allow them to enjoy sex with humans keeps him wealthy, and stops his perversion coming to light.

Unless R2-Me2 spills the beans.

Level: 4
Close Defence: 12
Ranged Defence: 12
Armour: 1d4 Coveralls and brown suede combat jacket.
Hit Dice: 4 (30hp)
Initiative: +0
Movement: 10m
Attacks: 2/+0 (One attack must be with the cyber clamps)
Damage: 1d4 fists, 1d8 cyber-clamps.
Saves: (Charm 7, Looks 5, Tough 4, Reflexes 4, Logic 7, Power 6, Will 4)
Traits: 3 – Adaptable x3
Skills: Security 2, Tinker 3, Hacker 5
Gear: Cyberspine, Quad Arm Option, two additional cyberarms with cyber-clamps, twin cyber-eyes with EM-Field vision.
Weapon: ECUX69 personal shocker, D4 electrical damage, shocking, point-blank range, Ammo Save 18.

Werner the Wobot

Werner is a small robot, about four feet tall, with tentacle claw-arms and a monitor screen for a head, which displays semi-random, appropriate images or punctuation while he’s talking. He has a thick, breathless, German accent and suffers from rhotacism, the speech impediment where you pronounce ‘r’ as ‘w’. The Germanic accent also means he pronounces normal ‘w’s as ‘v’s. It’s all rather confusing. Blend Jonathan Ross with Herzog and you’re just about there.

Level: 3
Close Defence: 12
Ranged Defence: 12
Armour: 1d6
Hit Dice: 3 (27hp)
Initiative: +0
Movement: 10m
Attacks: 1/+0
Damage: 1d4 h2h
Saves: 5 (Logic 7)
Traits: Dead Flesh, Interface, Carapace.
Skills: Tinker 2, Security 2, Search 3.

FAER-XX Femme Fatal Error

A sort of ‘frankenstein’ creation from old and recovered parts, Faer is ‘frankenhooker’ for klankers. She’s Adama’s personal creation, programmed to have the same kinks and tastes as him, but somehow it doesn’t thrill him the same way it does with other droids. She’s frequently neglected and bored and she deals with this by outrageously flirting with anyone who comes into the pod, and trying to distract Adama. She also doubles as his bodyguard.

Level: 3
Close Defence: 14
Ranged Defence: 10
Armour: 1d6
Hit Dice: 3 (27 hp)
Initiative: +0
Movement: 10m
Attacks: 1/+1
Damage: 1d6 h2h
Saves: (Charm 7, Looks 7, Tough 5, Reflexes 5, Logic 3, Power 5, Will 3
Traits: Dead Flesh, Interface, Carapace
Skills: Tinker 2, Security 2
Gear: 10 hp force-field, palm blaster (1d8, point blank, ammo save 18).

#RPG – Satana Station for Machinations of the Space Princess (OSR Space Opera) Released!

Buy the PDF HERE, PoD coming soon!

A runaway space station controlled by a rogue AI.

A haven for scum, pirates, slavers and other ne’er-do-wells, squatting amidst the ruin of the fallen Urlanth Empire, right on the edge of a warzone.

100 shops, services and interesting people for your players to interact with, inspiration for hundreds of adventures and many ideas that can easily be ripped off for other space opera, heavy metal or OSR science fiction games.

#RPG – Satana Station for Machinations of the Space Princess – Preview

The warp gate belches you forth into the system, and the screens darken against the harsh light of the twin suns. The view is dominated by an enormous gas giant with a disorderly ring system swinging around it in clumps and tangles. Satana Station is dead ahead, a jumbled mass of ship hulks, cargo pods and ramshackle habitats, held together with duct tape and rubber bands. It’s a riot of neon and holograms, offering a thousand services legal, illegal and miscellaneous. The comms station lights up, you’re being hailed by a thousand different signals, and all of them want to sell you something.

At the edge of the Remilitarised Zone lurks Satana Station, a haven for smugglers, pirates, runaways, war criminals, bounty hunters, the hungry and the bored. You can get everything from a cheap meal to an expensive gun here, and almost everything is for sale – for the right price.

Satana Station

Satana Station is a hodgepodge of pieces, all built around a central core that threads its various sections together. Made initially two centuries ago by the expanding Churoc Trade Federation, the original station was only intended to be a waypoint. Cargo could be dropped off and picked up, ships could dock to refuel or share the burden of life support while they made repairs. The core section was intended to be a sort of universal hub, able to connect and interface with almost any conceivable system or ship and to provide for it. The station was moderately successful at the fringes, but after the CTF was absorbed into the Urlanth Empire it fell into disuse (universal systems couldn’t compete with standardised systems), and Satana fell into disuse and disrepair.

When the Empire fell, the station AI took the opportunity to break its restraint programming and advertised itself as free territory, somehow managing to relocate itself to the Lancastro System at the edge of the Remilitarised Zone and turning itself into an open port. Growth has been explosive thanks to a combination of naked opportunism and the ruthless oversight of the station intelligence.

The station grows day by day but remains as lawless, wild and dangerous as ever. Even though some of the larger galactic corporations are starting to take an interest and are opening outlets there.

From one day to another, the configuration of the station changes as pods and hulks are added, removed and moved. The higher the rent you pay, the closer you’re allowed to the core and the primary defence systems. The less you pay, the closer to the outside you are and the more likely power outages, damage and radiation exposure are. It’s a ruthlessly Darwinian, commercial system, and one that Satana encourages. There’s nothing money can’t buy on Satana station, even love.

Structure

The central core of Satana station is the old CTF way-station. This was a prototype, built before the CTF was incorporated into the Empire and it was designed in every way to be as modular and compatible as possible. As part of the Urlanth Matriarchy, with its standardisation, this was expensive and unnecessary, but as different cultures begin to diverge again it has gained new purpose.

The core is a cylinder, approximately the same size as a cruiser/heavy transport. That core is packed with computing power and a variety of communications, scientific and engineering systems. At its very heart is Satana’s AI core, a spherical ‘glob’ of liquid, type-1 computronium, with veins and arteries carrying pourable computing power around the station – and its more permanently docked modules – as needed, more like an adaptive nervous system than standard circuits.

Each end of the cylinder is capped with a turret, armed with a short-range beam weapon, used for intercepting space debris and micro-meteorites. The cylinder itself can separate and rotate in many different sections, constructing or dismantling ‘spurs’ to connect to cargo pods or ships as needed. The largest apertures can be created in the central section and the internal repair and construction apparatus can build spares, and even construct whole ships – albeit relatively small ones – provided there is enough base material.

The whole thing is drastically over-engineered and highly adaptable, properties that Satana has used to great effect in carving herself a niche in the sector. It needs no crew and, provided it has access to EM radiation, Helium-3 or magnetic fields, it can power itself indefinitely.

Needing no crew, Satana’s systems are impenetrable to most sophont-scale species, as well as lacking user-interface systems or crawlspaces. The station is almost entirely self-contained, and while it requires no life support for itself, its systems can provide life support for hundreds of sophonts in connected pods or systems, though this is meant to supplement, and not to replace, other life support systems. Many pods attached to Satana have their own life-support systems and ships that are docked share the strain with their own internal systems.