The following is part fiction, and based on some real events that have happened in the past. Rather than make many different posts for everything, this post will be updated and edited over time as the story is told.
<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>
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<ALERT>
<PRIORITY: HIGH>
<DESTINATION: STATION NEW EDEN; FEDERATION EXPEDITIONARY FLEET; UNITED MERCENARY CENTRE>
<ORIGIN: UNKNOWN> /RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE SIGNAL ANALYSIS
<MESSAGE BODY: ENCRYPTED> /REQUEST FOR IMMEDIATE MAINFRAME RUNTIME FOR DECRYPTION
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<REQUEST FOR SIGNAL ANALYSIS: PENDING>
<REQUEST FOR DECRYPTION: PENDING>
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<REQUEST FOR SIGNAL ANALYSIS: APPROVED>
<REQUEST FOR DECRYPTION: APPROVED>
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<SIGNAL ANALYSIS RESULTS>
/After putting this mess through the scrubbers and removing most of the noise, what is left is very faint. I would put the origin point far beyond the Alpha-7 Complex. Passing filter settings to SigInt, hope it will expedite the decryption process.
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<DECRYPTION IN PROGRESS>
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<MESSAGE START>
Personal log entry: 4731.737
To whomever or whatever receives this, then something has happened to me. I programmed the main computer to send all of my logs back to New Eden should the odds of my return near zero, so that everyone I left behind can have some closure. Dammit, let me just start from the beginning…
<DECRYPTION STATUS: 10%>
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You see, I joined the Federation a long time ago, long before those…those Aliens came around, long before Corporations from the Empire, Jericho, and even the Federation started waging bloody battles over tidbits of space. I am talking not long after the Federation sent a squad into Sector 1337 and the discovery of Precursors.
I was a young lad, unsure of what to do with his life. As conflict rose after what was discovered in 1337, I rushed to join the Navy. The unit I was assigned to was called Dynamis. We were a bunch of hotheads, upshots, legends in our time, constantly pushing ourselves and each other, enacting strict goals that, if not met, would lead to being expelled and unable to return, your name dragged through the mud. For months, we were at the top, the most kills, the most successful missions. We all learned about teamwork, dedication, structure, sacrifice. Sadly, this was not to last. Everyone wanted to be at the top, but there is only one #1. Pilots started to sabotage ships, trying to obtain all the glory for themselves. Rumors spread, tensions ran high. We slowly tore ourselves apart.
Our Commander had just jumped ship, joining a rival unit, and many others followed suit. Myself? With my squad-mates in chaos, I was unsure what to do. I tried for months to hold what was left together, but the last commander had locked me out of most of the systems on the station. One night, I put out a message to everyone who was left, and ran. I jumped into my gunship, plotted a random course, set the computer to bring me out of stasis after a few years, and ran away into the stars.
Or, so I had thought…
<DECRYPTION STATUS: 40%>
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I remember waking up from stasis in a medical ward, and standing over me were some of my old squadmates, some of the first who had left at the first signs of trouble. They had an idea when they had left. To build a new group, a new Corp, but without all the strict rules, more laid back, where everyone who joined had a say in what we did. We called ourselves The United Front.
As The United Front, or TUF, we could hardly hold a candle to what Dynamis once was. Other Corps shot past us in the rankings, laughing at us. “Oh how far the mighty had fallen” some would say, “Why not come and join us? Rise to the top once more!”. Honestly, most of us did not care for that life style anymore.
Time passes… and slowly, we changed again…
Not back to craving the hectic battle cycle we had in Dynamis, not all of us. But most of us grew werry of the battles, werry of the grind, trying to find and gather the resources we needed to keep our ships together, even to try to build new ones. Slowly, one here, a couple there, we started to part ways again. A few did end up joining other Corps, like NASA, WPK, ESB, NOVA, the list goes on and on… but most of us desided to just head back into stasis, to sleep through the years, hoping that the future that they would wake to would be brighter. Lucky for those fellows, they slept right through all those Alien incurrsions. I tried to stay and fight, to help support my Corp.
But I, too, grew tired… and into stasis I went, only a couple of years on the timer…
<DECRYPTION STATUS: 75%>
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So, today I record this message on the eve of my launch, a new journey. I have spent every credit, every Galactic Standard, and piece of scrap and tech I have stored the these past years, refitting and upgrading my old Polus. While I was in stasis, I had my faithful hanger crew hard at work. Gone are most of the weapons, and most of the cargo bays now contain a jerry-rigged jump drive cobbled together from my old interceptors. The shields an hull armor have been completely overhauled. The engines are of my own custom design. The computer systems re-tuned, and the memory banks loaded with charts and everything else I thought I may need. In the bridge, now a stasis pod sits where the captain’s chair once was.
Yes, only one pod. This journey is one I will take alone…
You see, I am leaving this sector. Not running away this time, no. Running towards something else, new challenges out in the great unknown. I spent many a great year here in this sector, met many a great pilot and leader. However, I reached my peak, I could go no higher, and the effort of doing so came at an ever increasing cost, one which I found that could not pay any longer. I programmed the computer to send this message when I found a new world full of new challenges. I will have just found something that will keep me from coming back to the Federation and the surrounding space. So, no, this message does not mean I am dead, or have died. This message is a happy farewell to everyone, all of my friends and wing-men, squads and Corps, crewmen and leaders, designers and engineers. This is a thank you, to all of you, whether you were aware of it or not, for helping me through some tough times in my life, given me direction and support. Thank you for all the good memories.
This is MrTwiddlez, signing off.
See you in space.
<DECRYPTION STATUS: 100%>
<MESSAGE END>
<ARCHIVE MESSAGE?>
<USER>/
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On 6/6/2017 at 11:02 AM, QACinnamonTroll said:
Why can’t he leak some info on the game development?
A leak of any kind would be a breach of contract. I hope you do realize it is common for GMs and other Community Managers, and/or any person who is not actually employed by the Developer or Publisher, to sign NDAs, among other possible legal documentation. So, no, this does not, nor will it, contain any hints of any possible future updates or features for Star Conflict. Anything that sounds like it does so is a coincidence.