Federation Yearbook - August 1995

THE MONTH IN BRIEF

Inflation hit the Galaxy as the cost of stat points was raised from 1 meg each to 1.5 meg each (a whopping 3 meg for intelligence). The Stat Shops were introduced, allowing players to purchase as many stats as they wished without having to use an object - provided they had done each stat puzzle once. Thus was the tremendous pressure on stat items relieved.

The new, revamped GM puzzle opened up - combining the old JP and GM puzzles into one awesome and fiendish puzzle. Hordes of JPs were wandering around screaming and beating their heads (or equivalents) against the wall. RokMonster was the first to solve the puzzle, risking life, limb and insurance policy to beard the nasty pirates in their lair and ridding the Galaxy of their pernicious influence.

Game Hosts decided to reserve Channel 15 for their personal use - so they could gossip about the players, of course!

The game manuals became available to be read online, as well as downloaded from the library, giving players two different ways to completely ignore the presence of the instructions.

We started to recruit assistance from the players in the form of Federation Greeters.

The drug squad set up its operation in the Solar System, confiscating any suspicious items that players were holding onto for too long.

A second duchy - Exobot's Droidium - appeared to partner De Castres' Misty. Capital planets for duchies were introduced, with hyperspace links powerful enough to let you jump to another duchy.

High-labour factories were banned in Sol - see the pronouncement printed below.

IMPERIAL EDICT - Factories in Sol

By order of the Emperor Ming the Merciless: it has come to our notice that the severe shortage of workthings to run essential services in our Solar System is caused, in whole or in part, by the large number of factories producing artifacts and other such labour-intensive undertakings.

It is henceforth prohibited to build in the Solar System any factory which requires in excess of 100 workthings. CEOs that currently run such factories have ten days from the date of this edict to dispose of the aforementioned factories, after which time they will be confiscated and added to the the Imperial holdings.

Signed:
Ebenezer Jeheminiah Stockwyrme
Chief Minister for the Imperial Treasury

THE EDICT REACHES THE MASSES...
by Dwyvyrn, Axepeak Industries

Ezekiel K. Kludgepipe, Imperial Overseer of Titan, cringed in his chair as the angry dwarf stormed into his office, waving a piece of paper in his hand. The paper was no doubt a copy of the Imperial Edict which would effectively close most of the mining operations here on Titan and throughout the Sol system. Although Dwyvyrn was not the first person to come and complain to him about the edict, and surely would not be the last, somehow Ezekiel was certain that the dwarf would be the loudest and most irate.

"Wots be dis?!?!" Dwyvyrn demanded, waving the paper he carried in the face of the overseer. "Wots is ye silly emperer an' 'is groat-'oardin' treasurer thinkin', lad?!"

The overseer brushed the dwarf's hand away and spoke quietly in an attempt to calm him. "Mr. Dwyvyrn, I assure you this is only an effort on the part of the Empire to diversify the number and type of facilities on the Sol planets. The Emperor in his wisdom has decided that he can get more groa... er... more production out of the Sol planets by encouraging companies with less labor-intensive operations to locate here. Unfortunately, some of the companies which have been monopolizing the workforce here on Titan will have to relocate in order to accomplish this."

Unfortunately, this last statement only further enraged the dwarf. "Monopolizin' ye werkforse?!?!" Dwyvyrn screamed, "If'n ye means havin' to pays an eggzorbitan' wage to a bunch of'n ye werkers cuz'n dey is too lazy to gets da job done, den me s'poses me has been. Hrmf!"

Dwyvyrn paused here and let out a long breath before continuing. "Tells ye wots," he offered, "Me'll brings some dwarves in from me homewerld. Wi' me kin werkin' da mines we'll needs only a third of'n da werkers... an' still we'll prolly dubbles output!"

"I'm sorry," replied the overseer, "but the recent influx of workers has practically doubled Titan's population. We've got people living in converted cargo bays right now..."

Dwyvyrn broke in, "Well'n w'ere ye is goin' to puts dese new fact'ries, den?!?! Sure'n ye is nae goin' to be makin' libraries in me abandoned mine shafts. Who be goin' to bilds all da new domes ye needs fer'n dis?"

"That," the overseer stated flatly, his patience having worn thin, "is something which I am certain the Emperor has taken into account. Good day to you, Mr. Dwyvyrn." Here the overseer pressed a small button on his desk and a large security droid rolled into the room, effectively indicating the end of the conversation.

Dwyvyrn scowled, but realized any further protestation would only gain him a trip to Venus to reinsure. He turned and stomped out of the overseer's office. As he walked down a corridor past a large viewing area, he paused and looked out over the desolate surface of Titan. His heart ached as he thought of all the gold, crystals and precious monopoles that lay beneath that surface-- never to be found.

"Sure'n me nae unnerstands 'umans," Dwyvyrn muttered as he turned and headed toward his mines to begin the process of shutting them down. He did understand one thing, however. The dwarves would be leaving Sol for good.

HARD TO SWALLOW

Galactic Administration Authorities have been searching for clues to the mysterious disappearance of the entire Flower system this week. Travellers through the Interstellar Link began sending in complaints that all attempts to jump the Link to Flower system are met with stony silence from the Customs Fleet guards. A team of advanced design NewsDroids scoured the planets and systems searching in very bar and cafe and out of the way watering hole for hints as to the fate of the DreamPixie's planet. Finally late this week, nearing exhaustion of its positronic circuits, one lone NewsDroid entered Chez Diesel and while filling up its power pack overheard a significant conversation.

Tens0r, Gerhilde, Cimra, AutumnDay and several other socially prominent citizens were gathered at their usual tables. The bar was lined with thirsty traders and merchants when without warning Icedrake stomped into the bar complaining of massive indigestion. The Iced one, growing bored with his usual treat of Danish had gone looking for more exotic taste delights. Overhearing a group of JP's speculating on the missing Dryal, Icey loomed over their table and announced that he had eaten it for a late night snack!

For several minutes there was chaos at Chez D's with patrons stunned and demanding details from the Iced One. The ravenous Icedrake revealed that Drayal was rather a large mouthful to swallow, and it hadn't gone down well at all. Confused shouts from terrified planet owners filled the bar. Would the Iced One continue his new culinary tastes? Were their planets the next victims of the insatiable Icedrake? Those questions were never answered as the Iced One sailed off searching for more Danish.

Planet Owners are advised to keep a close watch on their property as the Galactic Administration denied all responsibilities for natural disasters or Icedrake snack attack.

A VERY DESIRABLE FACTORY

The little dwarf, Dwyvyrn, was busy building factories when he mused that what he really wanted to build was a brewery! But he realised it's probably just as well the Galactic Administration doesn't allow private citizens to produce alcohol: if he did own a brewery, he'd just drink away all the profits.

Nice idea, though!

STUPID NEWBOD TRICK #1
by David3326, Trader at Large

There I was, just starting my illustrious career in the world of Federation. I had read the Idiot's Guide and thought that I had understood it. My first mistake left me with the realization that the Guide only serves as what it is named, a GUIDE. I should have consulted others before I made a fatal mistake.

I was on my way with my new ship making cargo runs and making money hand over fist. I took just about any run and spent considerable time in accumulating my wealth. I visited the Jarrow Shipbuilders' and drooled over the models available and dreamed of the day when I could custom order the ship of my choice.

I repaid my loan, checked my bank balance and decided to purchase a 400 ton vessel which looked exceptionally space worthy! I sold my old, trusty ship and proceeded to HURRY through the order process only thinking of the groats I would make with my new increased tonnage vessel. I did not waste any time with shields, armor plating, or any other extras. I simply wanted a large cargo vessel. Again, the thought of mega groats filled my eyes. I quickly paid for my ship and proceeded to accept a 125 ton job only to be informed by Transportation Central that I did not have enough cargo space!

In my hurried selection process, I forgot to WATCH CAREFULLY the ship configuration screens as they went by. I ended up making my engine and fuel cells too large taking up all my cargo space. I had a new ship with only 10 tons of cargo space. What a waste of all my hard work. I could have begged for cash for a new one, but in the end I had to commit suicide and start all over. The moral of the story is: A little planning and attention to detail will save you immensely in Federation.

PUZZLED JPs

Recently 13 of the most powerful JPs in Fed gathered on Mars to tackle the fiendish GM puzzle. Among them: FauxHack, TSaint, SarahT, Durrock, RPatrick, RokMonster, Mykeeagle, SkySlyder, UtterSpace, Starlis, Kewles, and two others who are unknown at this time. There, in the Martian ruins, they for several hours performed arcane rites reportedly involving a Planet Owner, a number of lower-ranked toadies, a bar of soap, a coat, a Marsrat and a number of other unnamed objects and mobiles. After hours of banging their collective head against the brick wall of the GM puzzle the mental strain the JPs were under began to show itself in odd behaviors.

TSaint, FauxHack and SarahT exhibited extraordinary vocal endurance by screaming at the top of their lungs for long periods of time. The curmugdeonly Durrock (He Of The Permanent Scowl) was seen smiling, grinning and laughing in CDs, and there are unconfirmed reports of him cackling and giggling like a school girl. RPatrick and Starlis stopped thinking about each other in order to dedicate all of their brain power to solving the puzzle (to no avail). Mykeeagle was seen speaking to some shady individuals of the Encasa Familia, and later a horse's head was found on ALenton's bed. SkySlyder became a ghost of his former self; while people occasionally saw him out of the corner of their eye or heard his voice, whenever someone looked at him directly he vanished. RokMonster announced he was giving up Pegasus hunting and somehow became... fluffy. When questioned about this he said, "Just got out of the dryer." Could he have found the legendary Dryer Room of Starbase1? We will probably never know...

At the time of this writing most of the JPs seem to have recovered from whatever it was in the ruins that affected their minds and have gone back to their usual habits of hanging out in CDs and making money.

TOP TEN REASONS WHY YOU'LL NEVER GET PAST MERCHANT
As told by Muskegon in CDs one night recently

Number 10: You've looked for 3 weeks and can't find the office block.

Number 9: The rank requirement will change the day before you make it.

Number 8: The Drug Squad starts seizing commodities left in warehouse for 1 hour.

Number 7: 225 tons of explosives in your warehouse have to be explained to ATF agents.

Number 6: Your factories go on strike while you are fooling around in CDs.

Number 5: Workthingies join Teamsters and decide you should be Jimmy Hoffa.

Number 4: Your Visa card melts from AOL bills.

Number 3: You get pulled over for OUI (orbiting under influence) leaving

CDs.

Number 2: All Fed system groats are strangely sucked into Sigi's raffle.

And the Number 1 reason why you'll never get beyond merchant: The 25Meg profit number is NOT the second number on your company statement... that's expenses!

MAFIA INFLUENCE ON OUT-OF-SOL PLANETS?

A shady figure, cloaked in black, recently sidled into the H-by-A offices and whispered to one of our more impressionable young newsdroids that the motorway service station on Route66 was showing signs of being infiltrated by the Mafia, who until now have confined their activities to the Solar System.

The newsdroid listened aghast as he was told of Mafia attempts to block all trading activities by causing accidents that make it nearly impossible to get to the planet. On the planet itself, they have monopolised the video game market by introducing their new game, Welles Neargo, and their guards ensure that no other games can be played.

The sinister character went on to paint a ghastly picture of the Mafia supplying Diesel's Pantry with all the pizza ingredients (and you don't know what goes into those pizzas!). He also stated that the hoverbike "accident" was the handywork of one of the Mafia's best hit-men, who arranged the crash to prevent the biker from spilling Mafia secrets to the Galactic Administration.

Well, our keen young reporter was about to rush this major story into production, confident that it was worthy of a front-page spread, when the shady figure started to laugh uncontrollably, then took off his black cloak and revealed himself to be a her... none other than the owner of Scratchwood, Dezah! Seems it was her idea of a joke. Sheepishly, the newsdroid forgot his dreams of major journalism prizes and went back to writing a report of a shortage of soya on Earth.

FINDERS, KEEPERS!

Here's a little story for you. Commander Newbod is bumbling around on the moon, exploring a bit because he wants a break from doing jobs, when he comes across an object he hasn't seen before. He picks it up and examines it. 'Hmmm,' he thinks, 'I wonder if this is valuable. Maybe if I wander round for a while I will find a mobile to give this to.'

Suddenly four JPs come pounding into the room and surround Newbod. 'Give me that object,' they cry. 'We need it for something important.'

'But... I found it,' objects the cowering Newbod.

'But WE want it, and WE are important people, and if you don't give it to us we will kill you,' shout the JPs, as they start to slap prices onto Newbod's head.

Really scared now, Newbod gives them the object and slinks away, never to return to Fed DataSpace.

Now, what's wrong with this picture?

It's sheer bullying. High ranking players should never intimidate low level players. There is no excuse for this kind of behaviour. It is totally unacceptable. We do not want bullies in Fed, and anyone caught intimidating other people for objects, or for any other reason, will be dealt with.

Objects belong to the person who finds them. Finders Keepers. Even if you put an object down and walk away, and someone else comes along and picks it up, it's theirs until they get rid of it, not yours. You can ask them nicely, you can offer them groats, but threats and bullying are not acceptable in Fed, just as they are not acceptable in real life.

Consider this a warning.

WHERE DOES THE MONEY GO?

Many people have asked just where all the groats they spend in Fed goes. Buying drinks, clothes, ships, the taxes levied... who benefits?

Transactions that are carried out on an out of Sol planet benefit the owner of the planet. They get the money for any taxes you pay while on their planet, and for some of the goods and services you purchase.

Drinks money goes to the owner of the bar, of course... how do you think Diesel makes a profit? (Well there is her very lucrative Executive Services... but we won't go into that.)

In Sol, taxes and money from purchases go to the government. Which brings up another question: who rules the Galaxy?

The Galactic Administration is the vast bureaucratic system that runs every aspect of your daily life in Fed. Their tentacles reach to the most obscure corners of the Galaxy, regulating transactions and making sure everyone obeys the rules.

Behind the Galactic Administration is the shadowy figure of the Emperor Ming the Merciless. Everything the GA do is done in his name... but nobody ever sees him. Is he just a figurehead? Does he really exist? Or does he have no interest in the paperwork and redtape of administering his empire, preferring to spend his time biting the heads off babies? No-one knows, but rumours abound.

Those who own planets out of Sol have some measure of independence. If they choose to join a duchy, they are subject to their Duke, who takes on much of the power and responsibility for their domain - but even Dukes are still subject to the restrictions of the Galactic Administration's bureaucracy.

Planets that do not join duchies have an uneasy state: independent, controlled by their owners, yet considered part of the vast political entity of the Solar System and its protectorates.

The only thing that is certain is that although you can escape death in Fed by making sure you are insured, you cannot escape taxes!

PSSSTTT... WANNA BUY SOME DROIDS?

No, this isn't an attempt by Our Beloved Editrix to flog off her excess newsdroids. At least, we hope it's not!

It's a story about gullible consumers who sign contracts without reading the small print.

A shady character has been going around Fed DataSpace, offering unsuspecting players a contract to buy goods from him. Only problem is, he's offering 1 ton of goods, and charging several meg for it!

There's one born every minute, even in Fed DataSpace, because he's been making quite a lucrative profit. The moral of the story: PAY ATTENTION! Don't sign anything without reading the details.

There are no prizes for stupidity in Fed.

BULLETIN ENDS