Hello, all! Several days ago, one of you fine Lemmings posted a link to the new solo-oriented edition of Star Trek: Adventures. As one does, I immediately bought it and read the entire 300-some-odd pages. Lol. If anyone else was considering doing so, or is even remotely curious about it, here are my first impressions and a sampling of what the game (and its incredible matrix tables) has allowed me to create thus far.

These are just my spur-of-the-moment ramblings, so I hope they are still useful.

Rules

1. The rules are incredibly simple. Now, that's not to say that there aren't complexities to certain aspects of the game, but it, like its regular Adventures counterpart, is extremely narrative driven.
2. While being designed for solo play, it is absolutely possible to use this system in a group. In fact, it's probably the easiest thing to set up for a group in the genre. I was able to get four of my friends up to speed, with generated characters, and into a session in less than an hour. That's nearly unheard of for TTRPGs, at least in my experience.

Gameplay

1. Combat is a bit lackluster. It works very well, but it is bare-bones. Luckily, the rules from the regular books can transition pretty seamlessly into Captain's Log. It's even suggested for players that want "more crunch" with the combat systems.
2. The momentum and threat mechanics provide some really fun twists that keep the story chugging along before it can stagnate and get stale.
3. Despite the urge to let the randomness of everything take over for solo play, I've found over a few sessions that it's best to outline the entirety of the "episode" first. It doesn't detract from the fun at all, and it allows you to focus solely on the development and challenging of your character's values.
4. With a basic understanding of the "yes/no probability matrix" and some dice, or a phone app, you can literally play this anywhere. It is that flexible. Of course, nothing beats modeled miniatures in my mind, but I digress.
5. The tables. Oh, man, so many wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous tables. The last third of the book is just matrix tables to help create and complicate the myriad random Star Trek situations you might find yourself in. Honestly, the book is worth the price just for the tables. I'm not kidding.

Rating
Overall: 8.5 / 10
Incredibly robust and fun, with enough of a random kick to keep things feeling like your exploring the unknown no matter how much preparation you do.
Complexity: 3.5 / 10
If you're already familiar with the Trek universe, you can learn the entire game in an afternoon and be playing before the kids start to get home from school.
Combat: 6 / 10
As I mentioned earlier, the system is very basic. It's still fun, given enough narrative spice, but it isn't impressive on its own.
Characters: 9 / 10
The ability for this game to quickly generate believable friendly and hostile NPCs with their own varied motivations, outlooks, and backstories is insane. If it isn't the best out there, it's still one of the best I've ever personally used.
Locations: 9 / 10
As above, so below. The game does with locations what it does for characters.
Length: 7 / 10
There is a bit of groundwork that goes into setting up any game like this, but it goes quickly, in no small part to the (yes, I'm still on about them) crazy good tables.

What I've got for you here is a sampling of the game so you can get a feel for how it works, coupled with a single scene of my actually playing of it. One of the most important things I want to communicate is that, even though this is a game, it feels more like a series of incredibly intricate writing prompts. It isn't a bad thing at all, and I've been having a blast, but I want you to know what you're getting into before spending your money on it.

I used the in-game rules exclusively to develop this crew. The only personally creative parts are appearance descriptions.

Ship: U.S.S. Constantinople, N.C.C. 1453-B. Galaxy-class cruiser retrofitted with improved impulse and warp engines, hull integrity, and damage control systems.

Captain: Apius Stoyer (myself), rebelled against his Starfleet parents growing up but ended up attending the academy anyway. Turns out he was super good at science so that's the path he took. Two years after graduating and becoming an ensign, his current captain on the U.S.S. Persephone bungled a first contact with an incorporeal being and nearly lost the ship. Admiral Kent noticed the official protest in his logs and, impressed, whisked him away to the command track under the tutelage of one Commander C.J. Disto.

Scene One: A New Captain

Rolled for initial mission theme and conflict: got "Diplomatic / Establish Trade / Unite / Exploding Planet"

Captains log, stardate 446215.2. Yesterday, I received orders to take command of the U.S.S. Constantinople. She’s a beautiful ship with a crew complement of 1,637. That’s 1,384 Starfleet personnel, and 253 civilians. Virtually a skeleton crew compared to her other Galaxy-class counterparts, but more than enough to run the trade mission we’ve been given.

While being a perpetual “substitute captain” hasn’t been ideal, it is the natural result of my extraordinarily fortunate rise to prominence with Captain Disto. There are plenty of folks in the admiralty that would have rather put a more experienced officer in charge of one of their capital ships, but given the … urgency of the Afenian’s request, and the temporary lack of command officers with any recent experience on Earth, I’m finding myself with a remarkable chance to to change some minds.

She’s a beautiful ship. Newly retrofitted with all the trimmings: improved warp engines, better damage control systems, reinforced hull integrity, and a newly developed impulse drive system with an emergency magnetic focus index — well, I’m rambling now. Suffice it to say, she’s magnificent. Maybe I’m being a bit of a romantic, but stepping out of the shuttle bay and into the halls … it was love at first sight.

I think I’ll keep her.

//

Introductions go smoothly. Commander Wynter had met Captain Stoyer in the shuttle bay and spent the next half-hour introducing him to his new bridge officers.

In the Captain’s Ready Room:

KATOHA (OVER COMMS): Captain, Admiral Kent on the line for you.

STOYER: I’ll take it in here. Thank you, commander.

Desk viewscreen comes to life

STOYER: Admiral.

KENT: Captain. A pleasure, as always.

STOYER: I’ll assume I have you to thank for this assignment. She’s a real beaut, this ship.

KENT: That she is. You’ll do well with her. With any luck, the other admirals will begin to see that you’re a capable officer and not just some little pet project of mine. But, that’s not why I’ve called.

STOYER: No. So, what more information can you give me about the Afenian’s request? We haven’t ever had ties with them before. Why the sudden change?

KENT: I’m afraid that the copy of the request you’ve already been sent is all we have. When we tried to reach back out there was no response, so your mission remains vague.

STOYER: You’d think if it was so urgent they’d at least give us some details.

KENT: Well, “ours is not to reason why,” Captain.

STOYER: That’s a little ominous for a standard trade run, Admiral. Are you sure you don’t know something that you’re not letting on about?

KENT: No. I’m just an apprehensive old man. Expect the worst and hope for the best.

STOYER: You never were any good at the “motivational” and “inspiring” stuff.

The two share a subdued chuckle

KENT: You should be finished loading with all the generic goods by now. I’m transmitting your official directive and clearance codes. Stay safe out there.

The viewscreen flicks off and Captain Stoyer exits the Ready Room onto the bridge

KATOHA: Captain, cargo bay four reports fully loaded.

CAPTAIN: Excellent! Ensign Flannigan, take us out.

FLANNIGAN: Aye, sir!

As the ship peels away from the orbital dock, Ensign Flannigan opens the plasma vents and ejects a colorful display. Lt. Commander Katoha leans over and smacks him lightly on the head

STOYER: Ensign, what was that?

FLANNIGAN: It was for the boys and girls back home!

Captain Stoyer is unamused

FLANNIGAN: Okay, yeah. Sorry sir! I told my girlfriend at the docks that I’d show off some of her engine improvements when we set out.

Captain Stoyer raises an eyebrow; it is difficult for Ensign Flannigan to respond; Lt. Commander Katoha slips her face into her hands, attempting to contain her second-hand embarrassment

FLANNIGAN: [clears throat] It won’t happen again, sir! Course laid in.

STOYER: Engage.

Looking about the bridge, Captain Stoyer really begins to take in the crew. He’s done this many times before, but the responsibility of having the welfare of others—others he’s never met before—always gives him pause for that first moment.

Commander Wynter: slightly shorter than Stoyer, has a stern face. Thin lips nestle underneath a nose and pinched eyes in a permanent scowl, but her mannerisms showcase that there’s much more to her personality. Her dark red hair is pulled tightly to her head in a bun, adorned solely by a Starfleet delta pin.

Ensign Flannigan: a young hotshot freshly graduated from the academy. Closely cropped, curly, dark brown hair reflects his innermost desires, struggling against being contained and wanting to burst out and be free. The conn has a knack for attracting just that sort of personality, but his flight record is spotless, if a bit reckless.

Lieutenant Vaath: it is highly unusual to see an Orion in Starfleet. There’s no wonder he took the security path; he’s a daunting figure. That impression is made all the stronger by his soft-spoken demeanor. Admiral Kent called him a “gentle giant with an indignant streak.”

Lt. Commander Katoha: a Bajoran that bounced around between specializations until she graduated. She’s something of a renaissance woman, and a perfect fit for her current station. Sporting short, spikey, blonde-dyed hair and a, by Bajoran standards, modest earring, she’s quick with a quip and loves to laugh.

Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Steward: a crotchety old man. It was clear he was only on the bridge out of protocol and wanted, desperately, to return to the main engine room. His Illyrian mutation enhanced his hearing dramatically. “The Engine Whisperer,” Stoyer had heard some call him. His disheveled appearance was hardly regulation appropriate, but the Captain figured he was lucky enough to get him into a uniform at all.

Chief Science Officer, Lt. Commander Zendala, wasn’t present. She was hard at work in sick bay with CMO, Lieutenant Rielach, putting on the final coat of paint, so-to-speak. Zendala is a Palmyran. Deep, darkly caramel skin and ever-so-slightly pointed ears gave her an elegant, almost elvish appearance.

Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Rielach, also preoccupied in sick bay, is a gorgeous Deltan woman. Her empathetic, and empathic, manner may make her the friendliest doctor that Captain Stoyer has ever had the pleasure of working with. Thankfully, her vow of celibacy was current and on file. He could count on her to gently dissuade potential suitors, avoiding all of that pesky drama.

//

So, as you can see, the potential is SO high for invested RPG players that prefer to actually roleplay. But, if you're looking for something with a bit more meat on the bone as far as far as gaming goes, it may not be the best fit. But, whatever your preference, if you get your hands on it, it's a grand old time.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/114069

Born in Kirkwood, Missouri, on November 15, 1887, Moore was raised solely by her mother in an interesting, albeit not unique, world. Her father, John Milton Moore, was victimized by a psychotic episode that would dissever his marriage to Mary Warner Moore, Marianne's mother, before their daughter was born. Her early life would solidify her strong Presbyterian faith and formulate the bedrock themes of much of her future poetry.

When her grandfather, Presbyterian pastor John Riddle Warner, died in 1894, while Marianne was only six years old, her family moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania before eventually settling in the town of Carlisle two years later. This move would set the stage for her future renown as it placed her within the proximity of Bryn Mawr College, which she would attend in 1905. Graduating four years later with degrees in history, economics, and political science, Moore would also write her first poems here alongside her classmate, poet H.D. (Hilda Doolittle).

Later, Moore would live with her mother in Brooklyn, working as a librarian before eventually holding a four-year tenure as editor of the literary journal The Dial. Her time spent in the city would make her an avid Dodgers fan, to such a degree that she would even compose an ode to the 1955 World Champions. During this time, she also networked with, and received no small degree of praise from, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, and Wallace Stevens. Moore would return the favor by later mentoring and encouraging promising young poets Elizabeth Bishop, Allen Ginsberg, John Ashbury, and James Merrill.

Moore's habit of using quotations "not as illustrations, but as a means to extend and complete a poem's original intentions" would prove to be a major innovation in the modern American style. She also pushed the limits of minimalism in some of her work by revising previously published poems and reducing them to their core, famously saying "omissions are not accidents."

She lived her life holding true to the idea that strength came from adversity, becoming a staunch supporter of the women's suffrage movement and opposing Pound's anti-Semitic beliefs. Moore would die on February 5, 1972, having received the National Book Award (1951), Pulitzer Prize (1951), Bollingen Prize (1951), Edward MacDowell Medal (1967), and National Medal for Literature (1968) in her lifetime.

(Brief biography sourced from The Oxford Book of American Poetry (2006 edition), Poets.org, and Wikipedia)

Silence

My father used to say,
"Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow's grave
or the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self-reliant like the cat —
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth —
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint."
Nor was he insincere in saying, "Make my house your inn."
Inns are not residences.

— Marianne Moore