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Character Creation 64: …In Spaaace!

The Game: …In Spaaace!
The Publisher: Greg Stolze. It’s an indie thing.
Degree of Familiarity: I played it at a con once…
Books Required: Just the one. And it’s only fifteen pages.

As you no doubt surmised from the cut text, …In Spaaace! is fundamentally the Futurama RPG. A 15-page book that the brilliant Greg Stolze put out based on his interest in the series, and on the freewheeling madness of the game that would become Over the Edge. The system works on a simple mechanic of bidding tokens—so what you care about goes your way, and your ability to make other things go your way diminishes.

Characters have Traits. Traits give a price break when they apply. Players get tokens. Tokens are used to influence the plot. Sometimes, it’s forcing events: pay an ante depending on how moonbat the idea in question is, then a blind-bid with the GM, with the winner controlling things.

The world is every space opera ever, with no reverence at all. Let’s go!

Character Generation
Four points to spend on Traits. No one Trait can be higher than 3. One Trait can be broad (Space Pirate, or Super-Evolved Cellphone), the others have to be reasonably specific. And… that’s it. Obviously, I need a concept. I’m kinda fucked without one.

The Do I Have To? is a Worldship, a planetoid reverse-engineered into a starship and fitted with a controlling intelligence. It’s a popular holiday destination, being a place where humans can pass their time without toil or fear of consequences. Every click of the fingers summons a new martini or the discreet removal of an STI. What could possibly be nicer?

Brikkelandria vor Matrelani nos’Iralia (call him Brik, for the love of) hates it. Mostly, he hates it because he’s part of the maintenance crew. Your minibar break down? It’s swapped for a new one, and Brik has to fix the existing one. You ordered a custom-built atomic hypershower with one attachment for each of your fifteen mutant sexual organs? Brik builds it. You ordered a martini? Brik looks on jealously because just one costs more than he makes in a year. Yeah, the Do I have To? is a corporate entity with a controlling machine intelligence, and it pays its actual workers ten percent above jack shit. Anyone so much as thinking the word “union” is fired. Out of an airlock. Into the nearest star.

Sure, Brik’s a genius with inanimate objects. He can fix anything, change a clock-radio into a howitzer, or turn an everyday robot into a rampaging ground vehicle. But deep down he knows he’s only aboard the Do I Have To? because he lost his temper. Most people have a fight with their family, they don’t talk, sometimes for years. Brik had a fight with his family, and… let’s just say his homeworld makes a lovely asteroid belt. He was only trying to move it a little to the left, so it’d get less sun. One day soon, he’s going to jump off the Do I Have To? and see if his dad left him anything in the will. Then, he’ll need a better job. But until then, he bums around a worldship, waiting for shit to happen.

Brik’s an average-height guy with close-cropped sandy hair. He normally has a pair of tricked-out welding goggles around his neck, and his left arm is a clunky mess of robo-bits (possible side effects of blowing up planets include headaches, nausea, and loss of limbs). Between stuff built in to his arm and his toolbelt, he’s usually got whatever he needs—including a six-pack and a decent stash of Mandalorian ganja.

MAD ENGINEERING GENIUS 2
SPACE BUM 1
ROBOTIC ARM 1



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