The Lonely Galaxy Megathread (comments encouraged)

[lurker]

A possible symbol for the Partisans. I'm going for something like the White Hand of Saruman.

I should try to expand the Partisans beyond being a purely anticlerical faction. The Commies at least had other planks in their platform...

[lurker]

Just realized that because yinrih eyes are actually arrays of quarter wave dipole antennas that means they’re able to detect polarized light. But more importantly, you can prevent them from seeing light whose polarization is 90 degrees off from the orientation of their nantenna patches.

[lurker]

The word <slmg> /yip, short low strengthening grunt, short low weak growl/ refers to any number of edible plant products in the form of a cream or spreadable paste.

The substance fills a role similar to cheese or butter, and the natural flavor can range from savory to sweet. Humans find the unmodified product satisfyingly flavorful, but yinrih use it mostly for its texture, as a base to add other flavors to, or as a binder.

The word also appears in the profane expression <slmqNLqN!> literally "[that's] cloaca butter!" meaning nonsense.

[Visions1]

...what is cloaca butter

[thethief3]

it might not refer to anything real in universe but is just another idiom

[lurker]

...what is cloaca butter

It's either a mere expression or a dysphemism for diarrhea, depending on the nature of the yinrih excretory system.

[lurker]

Gee that's a lot of people who are locked out of reproduction given they can only breed once and with that a 50% surplus. Researchers, Priestesses, Knights of the Sun, Healers.

A possible solution is that research monks only take vows to serve 164 years, and can either renew them or leave the community once they expire. One cannot bear young while bound by their vows, and cannot take vows if they're currently in a childermoot, so you either have to have never had children, or have already grown children.

[lurker]

The operator lies on his back in the chair and grips the keyers in his paws. Analog controls are located at the base of the chair. Output is provided by HUD specs, usually in a visor form factor for a wider field of vision.

This arrangement is used not only in vehicles, but as workstations in offices, usually without the analog controls.

[lurker]

Wayfarers see the evolution of life as a teleological process, and only a small part of the evolution of the universe as a whole. They believe the universe is progressing to an ultimate point of perfect convergence. They also believe that it is their divinely mandated duty to actively help bring about this convergence by uniting the noospheres of all the other sapient races through First Contact.

[lurker]

...move and manipulate objects at the same time.

Here's another attempt at depicting how the yinrih are supposed to look. The proportions aren't very good, but the rear paws are supposed to be able to rotate like that. Their wrists and ankles are like ball joints, which helps them brachiate through the trees like a gibbon.

The tail is very thick and sinewy. It acts more like an elephant's trunk or an octopus's tentacle since it has no bones. It's supposed to be as long as the rest of the body, including the head.

The legs and back are more primate-like, with broader shoulders and thicker legs.

I'm still undecided on how fluffy they are. I suspect it varies by population. I'm also still torn on whether the bachelor's mantle is a thing or not. The fellow in the picture has a bit of a ruff, but a full bachelor's mantle would look almost like a mix between a mane and a cape.

I'm also toying with the idea that they can knuckle walk while holding small objects in the forepaws. Normally the palms of the paws are in contact with the ground while walking.

The whiskers are more prominent on yinrih than on dogs or wolves, which is the chief contributor to the "fox" part of "monkey fox".

[WeepingElf]

Nice drawing. Not the kind of stuff I'd put on a book cover or such, but it gets the concept across well.

[thethief3]

How does Firefly react to first contact?

[lurker]

How does Firefly react to first contact?

That's a question I've been ruminating on for quite a while. I'm honestly not sure. The Partisans have mostly been in the background so far.

I'm still not exactly sure what his state of mind is by the time of First Contact. I'm still working out the mechanics of metabolic suspension and how neurogel effects the senses and time perception, mostly to flesh out the gel heads and recreational suspension, but that's going to bleed over into how the Eternal Womb works.

There are a few possible scenarios I've considered. One is that he really is dead like the conspiracy theories say, in which case his opinion doesn't factor into the equation. Another is that he's still technically alive, but driven mad by the millennia of suspension, and is too deranged for it to be on his radar. Yet another is that he has a moment of clarity and repents, accepting the natural death that he's avoided for 33 millennia. He asks to be buried like a sinner deserves, and his bones are interred on Earth so he can finally be among the other sophonts he had wanted to find all along.

Another idea that I had way back when this project got started is that the various factions on Focus would get caught up in Earth's geopolitical squabbles, or vice versa, with the sides taken being fairly predictable given the ideological similarities between human polities and the yinrih factions I've described so far.

It's possible that Sol is full to bursting with tailstone, and given that Partisan territory is the primary source of tailstone up to this point, that has strong effects on how the Partisans react since the one reason they're not a pariah state is their hooks in Allied Words supply chains.

Edit: I imagined a scenario where a human gets captured by the Partisans via route poisoning, redirecting the human's mass flow to end up within Partisan territory instead of his intended destination. They take him hostage to use as a bargaining chip with various Terran governments. One thing leads to another, and the human teams up with a yinrih who is also a political prisoner. They break out of whatever place they're being held, and make their way to the throne room where the Eternal Womb is located. Since the security measures were put in place to counter other yinrih and not bipedal hairless apes, the human gets to do what humans do best: yeet stuff really far, really hard, and really precisely, probably into an exhaust port or something, which damages the Eternal Womb and triggers a Metroid-esque self-destruct countdown. The human then gets to do the OTHER thing that H. sapiens does better than any other creature in the galaxy: run.

[lurker]

Yeaning Sickness is the name given to the symptoms of withdrawal after being in suspension. It is characterized by temporary blindness and an inability to move. It can last from a few hours to about a week, depending on how long one is suspended, although one can power through the symptoms faster through sheer force of will. The crew of the Dewfall manage to bounce back in half an hour. Yeaning sickness is the principle reason why Suspension isn't used all the time to interface with computers or mechanical systems. This only applies to people who don't go insane due to the alteration of time perception or become addicted to the sensory input. The insanity is fairly self-explanatory, but addiction happens at the neurological level, meaning the person cannot leave suspension without causing brain death. At least some people, Firefly among them, do not respond to treatment and must remain in suspension indefinitely.

It remains to be seen if the three effects of suspension (halting metabolism, replacement of sensory input, and alteration of time perception) must occur together or can be induced selectively.

While not technically considered part of yeaning sickness, missionaries who come out of long-term suspension must deal with the neurogel that has permeated their lungs and digestive system over the centuries. A bit of a First Contact faux pas occurs when Iris vomits the remaining neurogel out of her stomach in front of the bewildered humans who witness the Dewfall's landing.

[lurker]

Here's a possible concept of what interplanetary ferries look like: a ring of engines surrounding a passenger cabin in the middle.

The engines consist of two main force projectors. One is active during the first half of the journey, accelerating the craft forward at a constant 1 g. Halfway through, it switches to the forward force projector, decelerating at a constant 1 g. There is a ring of smaller force projectors around the engine for lateral movement, and each engine has its own reactor to power the projector array.

Large force projectors like the ones used here cannot be used in atmosphere because reasons, but smaller force projectors like the ones used in paw gauntlets for powered armor are safe.

The bar to becoming a ferry pilot isn't quite as high as you might think. Tod compares himself to a trucker rather than a pilot when discussing his career with humans. Most tasks are automated, and the pilot is there to respond quickly to abnormal situations. Docking and undocking from space elevators may have to be done manually if the port in question doesn't have an auto docking system, and that's one of the few times the pilot directly controls the ship's movements.

Prospective pilots need only undergo a few days of simulator training followed by a longer period of on the job observation as a copilot.

Ferry pilots play a game called "spot the spacers" where you try to guess who among the passengers accustomed to microgravity and who isn't. Spacers can usually be heard complaining about having their paws on the ground even though they're not on a planet, while non spacers spend the brief window of weightlessness in the middle of the trip puking into barf bags.

[lurker]

Ron stared up at the metal behemoth looming over him. A nagging itch scraped at some dark corner of his simian brain, a whisper echoing through his genetic memory, from a time when his tiny furtive ancestors cowered in the shadow of giants.

The fact that the mech made no sound as it moved amplified his feeling of unease. There was no whir of motors, no roar of engines, no whine of servos, no shriek of metal against metal. There was only a dull rumor, felt more than heard, as the mech planted each of its four titanic paws on the ground.

One of those paws sailed overhead as the mech strode forward, a fine shower of loose earth dusting Ron's upturned face. The array of force projector plates on the palm and digits of the massive metal paw mirrored the arrangement of pads on a yinrih's forefeet. Other concessions to zoomorphism had been made as well. Two heat sinks were positioned like erect ears atop the mech's head, and whiskery antenna arrays framed its metal snout. What were the odds that the only two sapient species in the galaxy would independently think to themselves, "Let's build a giant tank shaped like a person and stick a guy inside it!"

THUD!

The paw came to rest mere inches from where he stood.

"Watch where you're walking!" Ron yelled, shaking his fist like a disgruntled commuter up at the machine's underbelly, where a round hatch sealed away the pilot within.

"Watch where you're standing!" countered a booming synthetic voice echoing from the mech's head. Ron darted out of the way as the armored left rear leg rose to take another step.

More tremors passed under Ron's feet as the mech trotted over to a tall pine tree. "Watch this," thundered the synthetic voice. The machine positioned its aft end toward the tree and wrapped its serpentine tail around the trunk. The tree cracked in protest, but the trunk managed to support the mech's weight as it reared up on its hind feet, digging its bladed claws into the argillaceous ground.

A sharp electric crackle issued from the mech's now freed forepaws as claws of violet plasma jetted from its fingertips. The smell of ozone drifted to Ron's nose on the breeze. The mech swiped upward with a forepaw, effortlessly cleaving a massive limb from the tree, leaving a smoking black stump behind.

There were two thumps in rapid succession as the limb hit the ground and the mech resumed a quadrupedal stance.

Ron jogged across the brown grass up to the front door of a tiny house nearby. He raised his fist to knock, but the door opened preemptively and a tiny septuagenarian emerged. She leaned over to peer around Ron at the mech, which had wrapped the limb in its tail and was dragging it to the curb. "Thank you, youngsters, for getting rid of that pesky limb for me. My lawn will get much more sun now."

"You're welcome, ma'am," boomed the synthetic voice, "but I should point out you're half my age."

"Well, you're only as old as you feel, and I feel too old for that stuff," she responded.

The hatch on the mech's belly opened. Lodestar was lying on his back in the pilot's seat, gripping a keyer in all four paws, eyes hidden behind a HUD visor. He doffed the visor, uncoiled his tail from around a lever at the base of the chair, and hopped out onto the grass. He trotted up to the two humans just as the lady planted a kiss on Ron's cheek in gratitude. She repeated the gesture between Lodestar's ears. The cynoid muttered a complaint in Commonthroat about his personal space that went unnoticed by the elderly human.

"Thanks again," she said as the pair turned to leave.

Ron turned to Lodestar. "Aren't you supposed to be a monk?" he queried.

"WARRIOR monk," the yinrih corrected.

"OK, granted, but what do you need a giant robot for?"

"The armies standing against justice and the legions oppressing the weak do not field only infantry."