All Starfinders complete their training by conferring with Guidance—a network of uploaded personalities embodying paragons from the Starfinder Society's history. Before receiving the blessing of Guidance, the PCs must meet with and assist critical missions on behalf of key leaders of the Society's leading factions. With the events of the Scoured Stars Incident still fresh in everyone's memory, there's plenty that needs doing to set the Society back on track.
The Commencement is a replayable scenario designed to help introduce players to the factions of the Starfinder Society and areas of importance on Absalom Station.
Written by Eleanor Ferron.
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Pangea-Gamma model types on its Comm' Unit, and sends a quick message that displays a VR page on its fellow adventurers' Units, so they can get some info' on the company that created it: PANGEA
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Kai smiles and nods at the gathered would-be Starfinders, but seems mostly lost in his own head. Whoo! Soon I'll be getting out of this place for real!
-Posted with Wayfinder
The Commencement ceremony was a small but optimistic affair. Though it differed from the tales of showy celebrations from times before the Scoured Stars incident, it also was missing the subtle hint of mourning that has become synonymous with Starfinder gatherings as of late.
After the ceremony each of you received a message on your comm pad that instructed you to report to a briefing room deep within the Lorespire Complex. As the last of you made your way to the location the doors before you slide open, a green holographic image of a middle-aged human woman shimmers into view at the center of the room. “Greetings,” it says. “I am Guidance. Please use the cheek swabs in the open receptacle to provide a genetic sample for Starfinder Society identification purposes. If desired, you may place your hand on the glowing panel to receive a subdermal implant further marking you as a member of the Society.”
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Kai follows the instructions given. He hesitates at Theshe's question for a moment, but then resolutely sticks his hand forward. I'm all in.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Pangea, Kai, and Domaya feel a slight sting, then the stiffness of the implant resting underneath the skin of their palm. "The implant is a mark of your affiliation to the Starfinder Society and does not posess any tracking capabilities. Instead it can be mentally triggered by the individual as a light source. With a thought the Starfinder symbol will faintly glow beneath your skin, as well as illuminating the immediate area around you. I am told covert operatives find this helpful in identifying each other while in the field." Guidance's words are quite emotionless as she patiently waits the remaining members to make their decisions, but they do not have the air of scripted dialogue. Though somewhat absent or distracted, this hologram conveys the depth of a living intelligence.
“It is our pleasure to officially welcome you into the Starfinder Society. Today is the commencement of your new role as a Starfinder field agent. It is our tradition, at the end of the graduation ceremony, for new graduates to present themselves to the heads of our most prominent factions and complete a task at those leaders’ behest. This allows the leaders of these groups to become familiar with all new Starfinder agents, and it provides a constant supply of agents for handling situations in our holdings on Absalom Station. While these tasks were formerly symbolic, the heavy loss of Starfinder agents in the Scoured Stars necessitates that these missions become something more. Please treat any tasks given with the gravity you would grant any other Starfinder assignment.”
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Obozaya is intentionally just slightly late, to make sure everyone else is present when she walks into the room. "Obo is here!" she exclaims as she enters. Though she is not wearing her armor with its holoprojector, she still seems to act as if she has a banner extolling her prowess hovering above her head. "You all get to witness this moment, when Obozaya joins the Starfinders! Obozaya will prove the best recruit the Society has ever had!"
She marches up to Guidance and boldly thrusts her hand onto the glowing panel, not flinching at all at the sting. "A cheek swab? Obo will do this."
When given instructions, the vesk lashes her tail on the floor, making a loud slap. "Let us be about it!"
"Wonderful." the word is uttered in an ironic way without any enthusiasm. "I have sent each of your comm pads data on the four Faction leads that I wish you to report to. Affirmative, Pangea-Gamma, Radaszam of the Acquisitives is indeed expecting you. As is Historia-7 of the Dataphiles, Zigvigix of the Exo-Guardians, and Fitch of the Wayfinders. Once you complete a mission, the faction leader will signal to me whether the necessary details have been finished. Once all missions are complete, you may return to me to finish your commencement and prepare for future missions in your new life as a Starfinder."
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Lucky has been sitting in the corner, her eyes focused on her gear as she meticulously disassembles and reassembles it, though she has been listening intently to Guidance's holo. She wears a nondescript jumpsuit, in a drab brown, her fire-engine red hair the only splash of color she's bothered with.
As long as we're being paid for these "ceremonial tasks" I'm all for 'em.
Lucky's eyes flash as Guidance mentions Radaszam, and her lips curl into a fey smile. That scaly bastard has never given me a boring job. Bet today won't be the first.
The hologram of Guidance fades away as the six of you leave the room. Following the data given to you, you find that Radazsam works out of an office in the Nyori Palisades, a luxurious neighborhood located in Absalom Station’s transparent central dome. When you approach the building you are directed up an elevator that opens to reveal a lone doorway.
These plain white doors slide open to reveal a stark, dimly lit room. The chamber is bleak and expressionless in its emptiness—no vanities line its smooth black walls, and no signs of use mar its smooth black furniture. The only occupants of the suite are a bug-eyed tadpole wriggling in a glowing blue aquarium and a reptilian vesk seated behind an onyx desk. The vesk gestures to a number of chairs in front of him, his features sharply illuminated by the light of his desk’s green holoscreen. “The new graduates,” he greets, in a low and pleasant voice. “Good day. I am Radaszam, though since you are here, I should hope you already knew."
“I trust you are aware of our Society’s traditions, so I will cut to the point. I have a minor situation that needs resolution. One of our members, a human named Laboni, had a rather public altercation with a junk scavenger from the Spike. You might be more familiar with the scavenger than I, actually; he is a ysoki who fancifully calls himself Ratrod. I am told he runs a popular racing competition that has, hmm, several hundreds of thousands of viewers on the station’s infosphere. For some reason, Laboni felt the need to tell him that any ‘real’ mechanic could easily beat the garbage that Ratrod and his associates slap together. Now that Ratrod has issued an infosphere-wide demand that she race him and prove it, Laboni doubts she can back that claim up."
“Embarrassing, isn’t it? Not really the sort of troublemaker that suits our Society. Perhaps she would be better suited to the bottom of a trash compactor... Well, we cannot afford to throw her out, not after so many Starfinders were lost in the Scoured Stars. Besides, we can’t let people think we are so weak that we can’t control our own members, or that we cannot stand up to a scrapyard junker. No, I would like you to assist Laboni in winning this race. Show our detractors that even the least of our Society is not someone to be trifled with.”
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Pangea-Gamma looks around the room, taking note at the spartan yet elegant look of the place... before bowing deep before Radaszam, and introducing itself, as a Champion of the Acquisitives.
Having listened to the speech, and refrained from volunteering to drag this Laboni to trash compactor, Gamma speaks up: "Does Laboni need to actually win the race, or simply beat his Ratrod and finish ahead of him? And, what kind of racing vessel can we get to help her do this?".
Radaszam straightens the sleeves of his business suit, "Winning would be best, but beating Ratrod should be enough to silence the chatter."
The Vesk's nails click against his oynx cufflinks as he lets out a growling snort. "Heh! I wish. Apparently in addition to the hundreds of thousands watching on vid feeds several thousand are in the stands as well. From the report I got it seems a sort of combat is part of their race though, so the skills of a good Starfinder should still prove useful."
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Kai's face scrunches up around his cheek bones; flinching. "This could get unethical pretty fast. Let's be careful how we approach this."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Radaszam holds up an empty palm, "I haven't a clue about the rules or details, but the race is only 5 hours away so you'd best get there soon. Laboni is already there trying to get a junker together out of the scraps. There will undoubtedly be other racers, but again not my thing. Just remember our image as Starfinders, for the sake of future business? If that wasn't a thing to begin with, well we wouldn't even be talking about a race..." His lizard tongue flicks and there is a coldblooded glint in his eye. Then, with a swipe of a clawed hand you are dismissed.
Following the highly publicized data of the event on the infosphere, you make short time to the hollowed-out section of a mountain of spare parts in Botscrap known as Ratrod's Scrap Battle. The racetrack is litteraly buried in junk. Standing outside the competitors' entrance, a junk drone hovers to you in an off-kilter way that does not instill confidence.
"Greeetings!" it buzzes and sparks. "Ratrod's Ra, Race.. way! Where racers and their pit crews build and improve vehicles from the available scrap around the racetrack, with vehicles from previous junkraces returning under great fanfair! Firing upon their opponents vehicles to sabotage each other as they race, only the best pilot/engineer can finish ahead of the heap! Who will it be?! Good day!"' The thing flies off then flies off with it's poor promo message to another group arriving nearby, a handful of Shirren who take over a dozen photos of the junk drone while clattering to each other in their native language.
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Kai points at the girl in paisley-colored clothes and the white labcoat. He walks up to her. "You must be Laboni. Hi, I'm Kai. These are my new friends. We here to help you win the race."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Oh! You scared me. I, thought you were more hooligans. Everyone is just having a day ripping into me. You're right, I'm in over my head." Laboni almost falls into Domaya, the embrace helping to instill a strong disposition in her. She looks to each of you with pleading eyes. "Starfinders, oh thank you! You're here to help? Gamma, come. Yes, all of you! Come with me, I'll show you the racer I've managed to throw together... any of you, uh, happen to be creative with a wrench?.." She smiles innocently over her shoulder before leading you to the pit, Gamma's hand in hers.
"So Ratrod is around, in his pit likely. The race is only a few hours away so everyone is trying to cram last minute upgrades in." What you see before you is truly a [u]junk[/u]racer.
something small but potentially the start of a larger overhaul...