Sighouri liked nicknames.

Normal names were universal. She was Sighouri to everyone, and always would be. But to her grandmother, she had been Noyoner moni. To her niece, she had been Sig. At the academy, she had been Bandar, thanks to her limber limbs and loud laughter. To her longest-term lovers she had been Ya amar, Jaanu, and Shona, respectively, and for two months on the ISS she had been Bullet.

The CHR-3 was Churji to her, and the Croatoan was the Śabādhāra. Everyone saw different things when they looked at the world, and to hang every viewpoint, every facet of a gem under a single name was unwise at best. Dangerous at worst.

Kristiana called them ‘colonists,’ but they could just as easily be pioneers, explorers, Noriamians, Proximans…

Sughouri was about to be an archeologist, or an SAR Engineer, or a surveyor, or a migrant, or an ex-pat.

Last time, I decided that the Manifestations will make all their actions with a die roll based on their Tier and Bond ratings: XdY, where X is their Bond, ranging from 1 to 5, and Y is their Tier, ranging from a d4 to a d12. I also decided to place a limit on leveling, such that a Manifestation will only ever level up 5 times.

But the math on that is a little squiffy. If a Manifestation focuses on leveling their Bond over their Tier, they are, in effect, hamstringing themselves. Take a look at this Anydice program:

output 1@2d12 named “2d12”

output 1@5d6 named “5d6”

If you look at the “at least” tab, you can easily see how the 5d6 Manifestation has a higher chance of rolling better than a 3 or 4 than 2d12, but 2d12 has a far better chance of rolling 6 or better than 5d6 has of rolling a 6. Both Manifestations have about an equal chance of rolling a 5 or better, but for one that means a 5 or a 6, while the other can go up to 12. That’s hardly balanced.

Zuri’s fingers itched. It had taken almost an hour for Churji to reach the main computer center in Central Control, then another hour for Sughouri to inspect the systems and wiring to make sure everything was still within proper working order.

“Okay,” Sughouri said at last, “I’m turning the computer on. Zuri, it’s in your hands now.”

Zuri could feel her shoulders relax as, on the screen, Churji’s claw threw the final switch. The feed swung about as all around it, lights began to flicker to life. When Churji turned back to the main screen, the system boot process was spinning past, throwing error after error, the same errors mirrored on Zuri’s personal screen.

“That doesn’t look good,” Victoria muttered.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sughouri waved a hand. “The system is looking for a bunch of systems and hardware we haven’t turned on, that’s all.”

And likely never would, Zuri noted. No need for waste recyclers or temperature control now.

Victoria used to think that space was empty. Now, she knew that what she thought of as void was really full of radiation, background static, dust molecules and dark-matter. As far as was practical, however, it was all empty.

For centuries, humans were taught the solar system on a scale that was reasonable. No, more than reasonable; conceivable. The astronomical distances between even the earth and its moon were difficult to comprehend on a visceral level. The most common emotion when seeing the planets of the solar system to scale for the first time was awe, coupled with no small amount of disbelief.

But the sun really was that much larger than Jupiter, which really was that much larger than Earth. And seeing the planets’ sizes was nothing compared to the distance between them. To truly understand the distance one light-year covered was nearly impossible. Such a massive stretch of sheer and unmitigated emptiness.

There was a terrible thing that happened when the human mind is faced with emptiness; The brain tried to fill it.

Last time, I looked into a core “dice-roll” mechanic, and decided to link each Manifestation’s roll to their Tier and Bond stats, their level and friendship scores, respectively. I liked the idea that both of these stats decided what dice you rolled “to hit” with any Manifestation, so I explored three different possible rolls: XdY, 1dX+Y, or Xd20+Y

At the moment, 1dX+Y is the simplest of the three. It’s linear, low-effort, and familiar for most RPGers. Since there isn’t too much to explore with it compared to the other two, I’m going to leave it in my back pocket for now, and see how interesting I can make XdY and Xd20+Y.

For both, we can require the Player to roll multiple dice and pick the die with the highest number showing. Since both roll multiple dice, the major difference is whether the size of the die changes or not. Therefore, I will call these two options the Static option, (Xd20+Y) and the Dynamic option. (XdY)

“The elevator will reach the ground in five minutes,” Kristiana said. It was an unnecessary report, Victoria thought. The four of them were seated in their chairs, staring at their screens. She couldn’t imagine that any one of them wasn’t perfectly aware of exactly how much longer they would have to wait.

“What do you think they called it?” Sughouri asked.

“Called what?” Zuri asked.

“Well, the star is Proxima Centauri. They wouldn’t have stuck with Proxima b, would they? We don’t call Earth ‘Sol Three.’”

“There wasn’t anything in the Compact about naming the planet.” Kristiana said.

“I’ll bet you they did all the same.”

Victoria scratched at her hairline. “Noriama, probably.”

Lemon awoke.

Anthropomorphizing was frowned upon in the AI sciences. Even the most advanced AIs couldn’t be recognized as having agency, or advanced cognitive functions beyond that of, say, a particularly clever lizard.

Even the word ‘intelligence’ was somewhat taboo among trainers. It was a weasel word, an amorphous suggestion that something real was being described, when there was no such thing. There was no such thing as Artificial Intelligence, there was only complex computer algorithms that imitated adaptability. Artificial Learning was a far more accurate term. (Though behind closed doors there was still debate if Arificial Adaptation was more appropriate, but that brought in questions about the difference between artificial and ‘real’ adaptation, and whether or not Inorganic Adaptation was the best term, usually countered with the socratic suggestion that costal erosion was also inorganic adaptation, and by that time the convention panel had gone an hour over their scheduled time and everyone was too tired or hungry to make coherant arguments.)

Zuri couldn’t help it. After the Lemon AI had remaining trapped in the Croatoan for so long, to finally allow it to reach out into Noriama’s computer system felt like unlocking a caged beast.

Last time, I looked at Emotional Types and Stats, and gave myself quite a bit of things to think about. Today, I’d like to go back to the two “stats” I had come up with earlier: Bond and Tier. Tier is akin to level in Pokémon, while Bond is closer to Friendship.

Okay, but what does that mean?

Emotions are tumultuous things. Narratively, our culture is rife of stories about how people lose control of themselves, their emotions getting the better of them, and similar turns of phrase.

If Manifestations are embodied emotions, then the idea of a spectrum between “controlled” and “powerful” makes sense. Bond is a representation of how attuned you are to the emotion, how in-control of the Manifestation you are. Tier is representational of its core “power,” its strength and maximum power output.

Does this mean it makes more sense to have Bond and Tier as a spectrum stat, or as two separate numbers? Or, Bond could be a spectrum while Tier is a static number?

There are no windows in space.

Victoria bemoaned this fact as she stared at the wall of the Croatoan. She had been able to see the stars and the planet Earth — before they boarded the Croatoan from the ISS — but what she wouldn’t have given now to be able to look out the window and see Noriama Station.

Noriama Station was the unimaginatively titled solution to an insidious problem: how to transfer two-hundred colonists, along with thousands of tons of equipment, materials, and supplies, from orbit to the surface of Proxima.

Every obvious solution carried its own problems. Designing the rockets to be capable of landing on Proxima’s surface would exponentially increase the weight of the rockets — both because of the engines and the fuel required — far more than was feasible. A team of shuttles would reduce the required strength of the landing rockets, but would require fuel for both landing and lift-off, making such a ferry service equally unreasonable.

“Excuse me, Ms. Sidel?”

Antje winced internally, careful to not crack the smiling facade she threw onto her face as she turned. Damn it, there she was: a reporter not thirty years old yet, wearing the helpless awkward smile they all wore before they became experienced, bitter, and mistrusting.

“Yes?”

“Sorry,” the apology came quick through a faint Spanish accent, her press pass brandished like a shield. “I wasn’t sure that was you. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Antje turned back to the doors of the EUSAA, but it was too late.

“Just one, then,” the young reporter’s speech suddenly quick and clipped. “Are you here because of something to do with the KAP, or Noriama?”