Ninja dot
As the doors to the Lorespire Complex 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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A meek looking damaya lashunta cautiously walks up to the receptacle and takes a cheek swab. After depositing the swab appropriately, she hesitantly puts her hand on the glowing panel and reels back as the implant enters her skin. "Ew!" Levylissa Li Lilley (Levy to her colleagues, Ms. Li to her students) sits down at an available chair, gently massaging the minor wound. This lashunta, dressed in comfortable looking academic attire, is not young or old, but somewhere in the middle. She has opposing blue spirals around each eye, with black antennae sweeping back just above them. While her actions and dress make her seem very sheltered, her sun-kissed skin gives the impression that she spends the majority of her time outside the actual halls of academia. "Well that certainly was not pleasant. I'm Levylissa Li Lilly, Professor of Technoarchaeology at Qabarat University, but just call me Levy."
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A tall, broad-shouldered man with smooth, dark skin and a bald pate oiled to shimmer under the light steps up to the receptacle. He flicks open a couple latches on his gauntlet and slides it off; the armor is Golem-forged Plate, but unlike the man wearing it, it looks battered and battle-worn beyond belief. He swabs his cheek with the offered cotton swab and places his hand over the panel, but hesitates.
Not your first run, Roddy. You already signed up with these guys. May as well make it official.
He sighs and sticks his palm down on the panel, barely flinching when the subdermal implant is injected under his skin. He flexes the hand curiously before reattaching the gauntlet and striding into the room.
He takes a seat and spreads out, crossing his legs and lacing his large, thick fingers behind his head. He smiles at Levy. "Roddy Glasz. Pleasure, Miss."
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"Geriateric sample?! Ya wantz a geriateric sample?" cries out the high-pitched voice of a dark-haired ysoki woman, matted fur peaking out of a set of tight-fitting second skin armor. The creature shrugs, then says, "Why notz?"
The ysoki removes her hand from the pummel of a knife that is sheathed on her belt, before grabbing the swab. She removes a rather wet, sample full of saliva. After placing it in the depository, she places an unkempt paw on the glowing light.
With the deed done, she turns to the other Starfinders and says, "Da namez Rizzit, Rizzit Kibbel. But, ah, mostah dah folks around heah callz me 'Mincey'."
"Pleaz'd ta meetcha, Professah." she says to the lashunta, before turning her attention to towards the human. She gives a gesture, faintly resembling a curtsey, then says, "And yoo too," as she eyes up the man.
"Mistah Glazz, is it? I kin see whize dey callz ya dat." she says with a toothy smirk. "'Cauze yuze jus' one tall drink uv wattah, aintz yah?"
“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.”
Absalom Station is the cultural hub of the Pact Worlds. Races from every planet
in the system, including those once prominent on lost Golarion, can be found on the station.
People around the station are increasingly amenable to Starfinders. They respect both the dogged veteran field agents who were not lost in the Scoured Stars disaster and the new
recruits, whose presence brings renewed hope. Stating one’s association with the Starfinder Society is likely to garner support from the locals of Absalom Station.
A host of starships, known locally as the Armada, orbits Absalom Station. Ships from the Armada are often starships that have taken advantage of the station’s Starstone core—a
mystical device that allows for quick travel through the Drift back to Absalom Station. The ships of this fleet are increasingly at risk of bringing back undetected alien life, simply because
the policing Stewards lack the numbers to search every orbiting ship.
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A large vesk in maintenance overalls, with a laser rifle slung over one shoulder, and carrying a backpack follows the ryphorian into the room.
"Someone needs to fix the signs around here. I was wandering around two floors down for an hour."
The vesk moves quickly through the induction routine. Sample is given; the implant accepted. Rubbing the injection site, the vesk grins toothily at the others.
"You can call me Nalo."
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"While I do not know exactly what occurred, I do know that most of the Society's members have been lost after an excursion to an area called the Scoured Stars. It is my understanding that the current First Seeker's main goal is to return there and get our people back or find out what happened to them."
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Roddy nods. "Ah. Yeah, I've done a couple jobs now for the Exo-Guardians. They said they'd lost serious numbers, but they didn't say why exactly. Now I know." He shakes his head. "The Pact Worlds are dangerous enough. I don't even wanna think about what's farther out, ya know?" He snorts and somehow manages to cross his thick, armored arms. "Then again, I guess if we stick around in the Society long enough, we'll probably find out. At least it's good for my rep. My viewership nearly doubled the last couple months. Not that that's saying much," he chuckles. "I'm still a long ways away from being Zo!."
Everyone is excited about the upcoming junkrace. Apparently some nobody mouthed off to Ratrod, the reigning junkrace champion.
People know that trash talking really gets under Ratrod’s fur and wonder whether there will be more harsh words exchanged before the race.
The latest prerelease song from sugar-pop sensation Strawberry Machine Cake is about to be released. Unlike previous releases, the band is putting out a limited-edition physical copy prior to the concert when the released single and additional tracks are scheduled to debut and become available in digital form.
Word on the street is that a dangerous alien predator got loose somewhere in the Downlow district of the station. The creature is now contained in a warehouse, but not after it impaled a security officer with a harpoon-like natural projectile.
The plain white doors of the office 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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Roddy grunts. "I'd heard someone mouthed off to Ratrod and got him riled up. Didn't know it was a Starfinder. That's... awkward."
He rubs the back of his head absently. "I'm best when it's time to punch things, but I'm not entirely useless here. I'm no pilot, but I have a little bit of engineering experience. Maybe I can help tune up Laboni's ride or something."
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"When I was getting on the station, I, too, heard about this rivalry. I'm not really familiar with junkraces, though. I am more interested in hearing Strawberry Machine Cake while I'm here. I've got to admit they are a guilty pleasure of mine. At the very least, I'm gonna grab a copy of the limited release." Levy does a little bit of a dance and then realizes where she's at, "Ummmm. Ignore that. I think I might be able to help out Laboni with soupin' her ride." She then keeps going with a little dance move as one of the sugar-pop group's songs is stuck in her head.
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"'Fooolah Instrecorritrees'?! Droid Lady, Ratrod's da best! I'm a huge fan!" Mincey interjects. "Maybeeze, we jus' let 'em cream da Laboni and deal wit' da alrien creechah I hoid about causin' all da trubblez Downlow."
The ysoki removes a boot to free up a set of toes to scratch behind her ear. With a sigh, she relents, Iffin I'm doin' dis lil' t'ing fourzya, Raddy. Youzah gonna owes me... Big Time. Aftta ahl, Ratrod's a fav'rit a mine."
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Roddy hides a smile at his fellow Starfinders' reactions and says with as much severity as he can manage (which isn't much), "We'll do what we can, of course. But if this Ratrod is as good as the vids make him seem, it'll be a tall order. Still, what's life without a little challenge?" He stands, stretches his arms, and says, "I don't have any more questions. If nobody else does either, I think we should probably get going. Don't wanna get there and the race is already started!"
He stops and looks around sheepishly. "Uh. I don't know how to get there."
Radaszam gives you directions to the race’s location in Botscrap and hands badges marking you as Laboni’s official pit crew.
”I suggest you do not delay, as you need as much time as you can to help with the race. I remind you that the Starfinders’ reputation is currently precarious. Any disciplinary issues can be settled after saving face. You should be more worried about Radaszam’s good opinion than any glory you might find from a mere racing victory.”
Ratrod’s racing circuit is a hollowed-out section of a mountain of spare parts in Botscrap, the track specifically sanctioned by the ysoki-dominated Salvage Union that controls most of the yards.
When you arrive at the competitors’ entrance, a small robot informs you of the basic rules of the race: racers and their pit crews are to build and improve their vehicles from the available scrap around the racetrack. Vehicles built at previous junkraces can return. Racers can fire upon other competitors during the race, but firing into the audience is grounds for immediate disqualification; racer weapons must be nonlethal and may affect only opponents’ vehicles.
Laboni is easy to find in the crowd due to her paisley clothes and bright white lab coat. She is in her late teens and sheepish about the whole debacle—in truth, she was merely aping the opinions of her seniors in the field and got carried away.
”I am incredibly grateful to you for showing up to support me, as I know I cannot win the race on my own. I do not want to apologize to Ratrod until I have won and saved face.”
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”I am incredibly grateful to you for showing up to support me, as I know I cannot win the race on my own. I do not want to apologize to Ratrod until I have won and saved face.”
"Who sed anyt'in' 'bout supportin' you?" replies Mincey. "Wheeze 'ere ta support Radazsam and da Societree, see? Not sum upstart punk, 'oo can't keep'er trap shut!"
The ysoki reaches into her cheek pouch, removes the badge that the vesk had provided, and pins it to a patch of matted fur. "So, show uz yer racer and we'll see wut it is dat we can do."
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Levylissa is thrilled with all the collected technology in the area. It is a variable treasure trove of history. "This is incredible. How have I not heard of this before? I really need to get into the cities more often!" She then remembers her reason for being here, "I'm sorry, Ms. Laboni. I forget myself. It is my pleasure to be able to help you in this wondrous place! What can I do for you?"
You can spend an action to attempt a DC 16 Computers, Engineering, Perception, or Physical Science check to find parts in the scrapyard and install them in Laboni’s racer. Weapons installed on the vehicle do not cause damage, but instead impose penalties to the target’s Piloting rolls for 1 round on a successful hit. Every successful check allows you to pick one improvement from the list below to apply to the vehicle’s statistics; these bonuses are cumulative.
The vehicle’s base speed increases by 5 feet.
The vehicle gains a +1 Piloting modifier.
• The vehicle gains a +1 attack modifier.
• The vehicle gains a +2 bonus to its EAC.
• The vehicle gains a +2 bonus to its KAC.
• You install a basic energy weapon on the vehicle (imposes a –4 base Piloting penalty on a hit).
• You install a basic kinetic weapon on the vehicle (imposes a –4 base Piloting penalty on a hit).
• You upgrade a weapon to impose an additional –2 penalty to enemy Piloting checks on a successful hit.
You can scout out your opponents with a DC 15 Sense Motive check, or examine your opponents’ vehicles with a DC 15 Engineering check. You can do this as part of making a prerace improvement skill check—you can take breaks during the improvement attempt and casually investigate one of the other racers. Otherwise, it costs you one of your prerace actions to converse with or examine all members of the competition. This check does not grant exact knowledge of an opponent’s statistics. On a successful check, you can ask one pertinent question about the pilot’s skill or about the vehicle the pilot is driving (or receives similar relevant information).
You can attempt to sabotage the other vehicles, but you must dodge the eyes of everyone in the ramshackle stadium by spending a prerace action and attempting at a DC 20 Stealth check. Failing this check raises the DC of future Stealth checks to sabotage vehicles by 2. Who succeeds at this check can then attempt a DC 15 Engineering check on one of the opposing vehicles to either reduce the vehicle’s speed by 10 feet or to impose a –4 penalty on one of the vehicle’s modifiers. If you are caught cheating in this manner, you are tossed out of the engine pit. If you are caught cheating again, it is grounds for the immediate disqualification of the entire team.
You may also take this time to speak to the other pilots. During your prerace actions, you can forgo making an Engineering or Sense Motive check to examine and socialize with your opponents. The junkers are busy with their own preparations and do not have much time to talk.
Checks
Roddy
OMID
Rizzit
Nalo
Levy
Frinke
Junkracer Stats
Piloting modifier +3
Base speed +10 feet
There are five other pilots in the competition: Lemgem, Nyizin,
Orsis, Ratrod, and Velocity.
Lemgem-Bluff and diplomacy work here
Nyizin-Culture checks work here
Orsis-diplomacy checks work here
Ratrod-intimidate and sense motive work here.
Velocity-mechanics checks work here.
Let me know where you want to go and we will go from there.