McCullock's Millenium

[entomophobiac]

Tänkte dela med mig av en Rogue Trader-sandbox som rullat i min spelgrupp senaste månaderna. Till saken hör att spelet röstades fram av spelgruppen—jag är inget fan alls av Warhammer 40K. Men jag har tagit kampanjbyggandet på största möjliga allvar (i största möjliga tystnad) och plöjt dyrköpta böcker för att ge en så "bra" tolkning av tramset som bara går. Och i processen måste jag erkänna att det tusan i mig är rätt coolt med Rogue Traders. De står över allt krigsflams och alla överdrifter som annars representerar världen för min del och levererar en sorts Star Trek-vinkel in i världen. "Dark Trek"? En värld där ni reser runt och upptäcker saker, men allt är dåligt, ont, farligt, och kätteri, istället för att ha en sensmoral.

Hur som helst! Tänkte dela med mig av rollpersonerna här inledningsvis. Om tiden tillåter framöver renskriver jag nog hela sandlådan och postar som ett Gdoc, ifall någon skulle vara intresserad. Spelgruppen är för tillfället sju personer, vilket är varför det är så många karaktärer.

Vi har hanterat detta genom att tillåta folk att röra sig ombord på skeppet och prata i grupper, något som lett till en hel del intrigerande och maktspel under all den tid som spenderas ombord på skeppet. Bifogat screenshot från Roll20 på hur detta upplägg ser ut "in-game"; varje spelare befinner sig i ett rum i taget och kan delta i den Discord-chat som är kopplad till det rummet.

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BACKGROUND
McCullock is a thousand-year-old Rogue Trader house built on the shoulders of its founder, the Great Venerable Lucius Verus McCullock. The man himself disappeared into legend at the end of his lifetime, but left his inheritance—including the coveted Warrant of Trade, a considerable fortune, and a thriving trade network—at the fringes of the Koronus Expanse.

But what really happened to Lucius? Why did he leave his flagship, the EXALTED FORTUNE, behind? Why has the house stayed inside the confines of its trade network, ceasing to chart the stars beyond, ever since Lucius’ passing?
This is for the players to find out. Or die trying.

 

[entomophobiac]

Heir Apparent Gabriele Kati McCullock
You were taught that Lucius Verus made your family what it is. He laid the prosperous foundation for your family’s incredible wealth.

But the more you read his stories, the more you felt bored and protected. Volume by volume, the journals of previous Lord and Lady Captains became increasingly political and lazy. All of the adventures and space battles were replaced by disappointing lists of cargo tonnages.

For centuries, no McCullock has exercised the most awesome of the rights writ into the Warrant of Trade: the right to chart unknown space, the right to commune with the xenos; the right to stand above the laws of the Imperium! No McCullock can rightfully call themselves Rogue Trader anymore. This must change!

You have been biding your time, putting on a show of being a good daughter. Meanwhile, you’ve worked with cousin Max behind your father’s back to put everything in place for the first real McCullock expedition in several centuries.

Cousin Max has been instrumental in setting this ball rolling. He’s worked tirelessly for decades to prepare your ship for its maiden voyage. But he’s also the one who would stand to inherit the Warrant (from his mother) in the event of your death. He thinks you don’t know this.

But you’ve been baptised in the same bloody halls of Imperial intrigue as he has. Make no mistake. Given the right opportunity, Max wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice you for his gains. Even if it would start a civil war between the McCullock houses. The truth is that you probably need him more than he needs you.

You also know that your father won’t allow you to travel the void. The moment he sees what you are up to, he will do everything in his power to stop you.

 

[entomophobiac]

Max Ruprecht McCullock
The McCullock house owns and operates more real estate than any other frontier house. Vast manufactories produce hardware for the armies of the Imperium. Bolts for the Space Marines of the Adeptus Astartes. Servitor oculi for the Tech-Priests. Industries erected through a thousand years, founded by the great Lucius Verus McCullock.

All that power, and you are still nothing but a glorified accountant. You bear the name, but you will never reap what you sow.

Gabriele, the Heir Apparent, became your protege when she was very young. Her drive and ambition—her fire—reminded you that there’s still a way to gain greater glory. You had soon promised Gabriele to deliver her the stars. You set to task immediately. The light cruiser Exalted Fortune had been left at orbital anchor for almost 100 years, stripped of her Warp Drive, her Gellar Field, and most of its crew.

Tracking, unpacking, and launching the long-since mothballed components into orbit hasn’t been easy and it hasn’t been cheap. You have accrued considerable personal debt and been forced to cut off countless loose ends to keep your dealings away from Gabriele’s father. A man you despise more than you have ever despised anyone. A man who hides his cowardice behind faith and isn’t fit to rule his own wardrobe; let alone a powerful Rogue Trader house.

Gabriele is the only heir and her father’s sister is your mother. To spell it out: if something happens to Gabriele, you eventually inherit the Warrant.

But you have made yourself the future de facto Seneschal of the house, thanks to Gabriele. You will benefit more from following her lead than cutting her head off. You also like Gabriele too much. Serving her will provide ample opportunity to gain power without letting the McCullocks spiral into a bloody civil war caused by her death.

 

[entomophobiac]

Thresa Valance of Benetek
Every day, 1,000 psykers are sacrificed to the Golden Throne of the God-Emperor. This fuels the divine beacon of Holy Terra: the Astronomican. A beacon that lights the way through the seething maelstrom of the Immaterium, which is the only means to travel interstellar distances.

Only those born with the Navigator Gene can see this beacon and bring starships through safely. You are such a navigator.

Born into Benetek, a prominent house within the Navis Nobilite, wielding great influence among navigators and Imperium alike, you were brought up to know not to think too much. To know your place and focus on only that. The Inquisition hates your kind and only reluctantly acknowledges that there wouldn’t be an Imperium without your mutant gene. So your house took the safe route. Be more pious than the zealot, to avoid the zealot’s ire.

All you wanted was to escape this stifling rigor. You learned how to think for yourself. Unfitting for citizen of the Imperium. Things that made the Inquisition and their kind even more interested in you. You ventured beyond, into the frontier, selling your services as Navigator to the highest bidders. The sights you saw spurred you on to further adventure.

But then you served on the Hymnal Contempt. As you removed the headband that hides your third eye—your Warp Eye—and stared into the immaterium that fateful day, the Immaterium stared back. Something had taken notice of you. Something dark and utterly evil.

You hid. Took up residence in the local Benetek palace retreat. Refused to work anymore as a Navigator. But you miss the journeys and the sights you used to see. The Immaterium calls to you. The young McCullock that wants to pick up the torch today reminds you of yourself at a young age. Her fire may be exactly the courage you need to face whatever it is that waits for you on the other side.

 

[entomophobiac]

Helios Kern
Your homeworld was a war torn mining colony. A lump of rock in space, inexorably drilled to feed the hungry furnaces of the Imperium. Its value made it a warzone, as vested interests clashed to gain the upper hand. The first decade of your life you were orphaned, and you stood constantly at the precipice at the dark abyss of starvation.

This is also when you encountered The Truth. A violent pirate collective led by a smarmy half-machine freak called Stonejaw. A name earned for his taste for mining colonies. This is when you were press-ganged into piracy and took part in so many attacks on mining colonies that you couldn’t remember them all if you tried. It’s also when you learned most of what you know about starships. You worked the bilge decks, then the augurs, and finally the helm.

Your inevitable mutiny against Stonejaw was timed perfectly. But it was also the beginning of years of fighting where your frigate and its crew was slowly ground into dust. You eventually sided with the Rogue Trader, Rourke McCullock, and joined his defense fleet for a while before settling down. Rourke made you promise to never set foot on a starship again, on pain of death.

But you miss the void. You miss yelling orders at the vox receiver. The almost imperceptible vibrations in the hull when the Plasma Drive kicks in. You have learned a fate worse than death.

Stonejaw may still hate you. Rourke McCullock may kill you. But working with Max to get the Exalted Fortune back in flying order has taught you one thing more than anything else: it's worth the risk, if you can but take the helm one more time before you die.

 

[entomophobiac]

Commander Eveline Kriek
Since you were born, your faith in the God-Emperor of Man has been zealous. You have learned to never question authority, to never strive above your station, and that everyone who does these things are committing heresy.

But your faith was thoroughly tested. Famine wrecked your homeworld, killing 95% of its population. Where the others lost their faith, your faith kept you alive. You boiled soup from the leather belts of deceased soldiers. To admit defeat is to blaspheme against the Emperor.

The horrors you saw in that famine still haunt you. But the Imperial Guard picked you up, trained you into a life of combat duty, and shipped you off to other worlds of the Imperium. You fought in countless battles and you earned the scars to prove it. You saw how the Imperium of Man is threatened from every side and how it will never know peace.

When you settled down to train new generations of Imperial Guard, you realised that this wasn’t all. Not only was the world full of treacherous opportunists. It was also full of heretics. Blasphemers and free-thinkers defying the Creed. And your devotion didn’t go unnoticed.

The Ordo Hereticus is one of the three major orders of the secretive organisation known as the Imperial Inquisition. They are tasked with protecting Mankind from itself, by combating such internal threats to the Imperium as treason, mutation, heresy, apostate members of the Ecclesiarchy and unsanctioned psykers. They recruited you, and told you to stay put and bide your time. To wait for the greed of the McCullocks to lead them back into the void.

Your official title is as an Arch-Militant and de facto commander of the local Imperial Guard regiment. Soon enough, the McCullocks will ask you to tag along. Just remember this: the difference between heresy and treachery is ignorance, and innocence proves nothing. The McCullocks are guilty of something. You must find out what without raising their suspicions.

 

[entomophobiac]

Astropath Transcendent Juviel Ramm
When you were born, the stars were just outside the window. Their beauty called to you. It was a happy childhood in the nursery of the astropaths onboard, where you could listen to the astropathic choir and commune with the other psykers. You were born blind, but have never understood why it should bother you, when the psychic draws the world in more vivid colors than you could ever imagine non-psykers could see.

But it was also a strange upbringing that alienated you to the society at large. When you saw your friends burned out and spent like candles, it unhinged your mind. You still speak to your best friend—Dalia Ramm—though you logically know she’s dead, since you could touch the blood oozing from her eyes and nose begin, and heard the servitors carry her corpse away for reclamation.

When your childhood ended, you roamed the ship trying to figure out what to do. Once the Inquisition’s ships found that you had the powers of a psyker, you were sent to be schooled at the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, where it turned out that your powers were considerable. Soon, you had been taught to communicate across the void. To send and to receive messages through the Immaterium. They even taught you to lead a choir of your own. You also learned to manipulate the minds of lesser beings and show them the true awesomeness of the other side. An experience that makes most people scream with fear and terror.

After that, the Astra Telepathica decided to “keep you in reserve” rather than let your considerable powers be wasted on mortals. You have been kept in this reserve for some time, and the only thing you still do is talk to Dalia, practice leading her in your own small choir, and dream that you will someday leave this place and board a starship once more.

 

[God45]

Det här är super coolt!

 

[entomophobiac]

Theoderic Eisenius
Death penalties are a waste of good flesh—the Omnissiah has much better uses for it. Lobotomize the criminals to turn them into servitors, like scribes. Use their flesh and muscles for repairs but make their heads and parts of their brains useful as servo-skulls.

But few things are as beautiful as the arco-flagellant. A means to redeem yourself to the God-Emperor and serve the Omnissiah at the same time. You lobotomise the penitent and replace their arms with weapons. You administer chemical injections into the spine and place a Pacifier helmet on their head. While active, the arco-flagellant stays passive.

Once deployed into battle, the helmets are deactivated. Drugs are injected into their bloodstream, granting strength, speed and stamina, as well as driving them into a killing frenzy.

You were raised doing this work on a Forge World. Taking part in the repurposing of heretics and traitors; even xenos on occasion. The subjects were sometimes homicidally violent, teaching you to stay alert and always keep a weapon close at hand. Growing up with the tenets of the Universal Law, it’s sometimes hard for you to understand the Imperial Creed and the Ecclesiarchy. Their constant ramblings about the God-Emperor seems flawed, when the Adeptus Mechanicus’ search for knowledge is what makes the Imperium what it is.

That search has led you beyond your Forge World and into deep space. Evidence secreted into the deep vestiges of forbidden libraries have hinted at a deeper mystery—and forgotten archaeotech—at the heart of the McCullock family’s successes.

You need to gain access to their archives. Especially onboard the ship called the Exalted Fortune. There, you will repurpose the crew—one by one—as servitors, who can scout every nook and cranny of the ship until you find the secrets that must dwell there.

 

[entomophobiac]

Ah, namnet McCullock uttalas typ "Maclock", inte Mack-kullock.