Community Lore

Amaroq

Well, since our servers are steadily drifting towards an RP-ish setting in plenty of ways, why not have some legitimate community lore?

Let's start off with the basics:

• Current year is 2246.
• The name of our community, Diaspora, is the name of the galaxy that all community events transpire in (different universe than ours, so humans are still valid).

Seeing as how I woke up very recently, those are the main things I was able to come up with. If you guys give me a couple hours when my head is clear, I'll probably add a lot more. Feel free to comment and add anything else (Legitimate lore only, please).

Lambda217

The Diaspora
YC 113, The Empyrean Age
Zainous Tukoss, Caldari Historian

In mid YC 112, during the return of Sansha's Nation and the reform of the Nefantar tribe, yet another conflict arose. The defunct Caldari Constructions manufacturing planet, dangerously close to Jita, had long since abandoned after the worker riots several months earlier, but suddenly a regular survey probe of the system picked up a massive Titan-scale signature emerging from the planet. A scout team consisting of three Herons and a Crow was dispatched to the system, and the data they sent back was horrifying. Above the dead planet, the corpses of three separate Dreadnaughts had been welded crudely together into a parody of a supercapital vessel. Fifty Amarr assault frigates melted together formed the engines, and the decaying flank of the ship was covered with a motley assortment of improvised weapons. Upon receiving an interrogative from the Caldari scouts, the makeshift Titan transmitted fifteen seconds of someone fumbling with a microphone, then an announcement that the vessel had been constructed by the "New Spacebuilders", led by "Katelyn", and that they would "Kill all scrubs". The scouts were then promptly destroyed by spherical, electrically-charged plasma projectiles.

Our allies, the Amarr, vowed to destroy the horrifically ugly Titan for violating all laws of aesthetics, design and holiness. But the powerful vessel withstood their fleet with ease, owing to what military experts are calling "horrible balancing". However, the Amarr do not give up so easily. The Titan was led to the New Eden system in the heart of the New Eden galaxy, where the ancient EVE Gate still resides, and tricked into venturing an unsafe distance near the dead Gate by clever frigate pilots. Two of the Amarr's own Avatar-Class Titans then opened fire on the EVE Gate with their Doomsday weapons, reopening and realigning the gate to an unknown location, forcibly exiling the Titan and the "Spacebuilder" crew to a new, unknown galaxy. The gate then closed once more, and Caldari Black Ops then issued a media blackout on the entire disaster, releasing only one press release to New Eden: "Some really bad shit happened and we are really glad it's over".

But the question remains: What happened to the "Spacebuilders" and their ship? Did they really find themselves in a new galaxy? It's a good gate-side tale for the spacers, but I believe they were simply atomized by the malfunctioning gate. Possibly for the best, too.

noldevin

I think Lambda's lore wins

Lambda217

I totally wrote another wall of text about the Spectral Directorate during a fit of boredom, but then I realized the faction thread was locked, so it goes here. Hopefully this will clear up some of the confusion about what the Directorate actually is. I'm not dead, by the way. You can't kill a Spectral agent, and even if you do, it's in our contract to stay behind and haunt our enemies for ten years.

It's often said in galactic political think-tanks that the only reliable information on the Directorate is that there isn't any reliable information on them. The Directorate decide to subvert even this by suddenly opening a recruitment stall at a Career Fair on Trade Station Epsilon (Solona System). They then killed everyone who attended the fair and removed all evidence that there ever was a career fair. Then they blew up the station and removed all evidence there ever was a station.

So here's what soft data is available on the Directorate. The Directorate knows all. When you dream about being in a car with no driver or your teeth falling out, the Directorate is probing your brain as you sleep. When you try to plug in a USB cable, fail, turn it over, and it still doesn't fit, that is because the Directorate is currently wirelessly hijacking the port in order to access your hidden folders of buxom seagulls covering themselves with cooking oil. The Directorate know when the Sun will consume the Earth, they know who the next Galactic President will be (and the next, and the next), they know who Jack the Ripper really was, they know what cats see when they arch their backs, hiss, and stare at the empty air, they know what the best recipe for foie gras is in this reality, and they probably orchestrated or had a finger in all of these events, apart from the thing about cats, which they are actively trying to stop.

The Directorate is everywhere. Everyone in power from the Supreme Galactic President to the lowliest tyrant of a backwater ice planet is, is controlled by, has contact with, or is sleeping with, a member of the Spectral Directorate. 89% of the lovable, friendly costume-wearing park mascots of Space Disneyworld are in fact ruthless undercover Spectral killers. The lizard-men in disguise as the Government are the pets of the Directorate. Dubstep was invented by the Directorate to soften up brains for Spectral brainwashing, and so their agents could have something cool to listen to while they do their work. 'Paranoid schizophrenic' means 'someone who found out the truth about the Directorate'. Pay close attention to what the odd-smelling hobo who lives out the back of Tesco says to you. He will be your only friend in the days to come. He may have already told you this, but 78% of families have had secret Spectral brain implants installed that will make them kill anyone who reads these words. If your mother asks you when you're going to move out of the basement and get a job, that's a Spectral code-phrase for "I'm going to shank you in the fucking dick", have your knife close at hand.

The Directorate is invisible. Ninjas check under their beds at night for Spectral agents. They do not find them, and go to bed unaware the agent was actually in the closet, and is waiting for them to fall asleep so they can place their weary gloved hand in a bucket of warm water and make them pee themselves. When you hear a creak at night just before you shut your eyes, the Spectral agent has already escaped with your last can of beer. When you see something move out of the corner of your eye, it is NOT a Spectral agent. It is a distraction from the Spectral agent, who has now moved up behind you and is sniffing your hair. He'll be gone as soon as you turn back round. If he isn't, God help you.

The Directorate has an agenda. They will restore order and balance to the galaxy, even if this means they have to teleport a baby seal orphanage into the Acid Seas of Nebulon Nine. They will murder every clown and liberate the galaxy from their horrifying purpose. They'll hide from you what would crack your soul in two to witness. They work to ensure no-one will ever leave the toilet seat down again. If you get in their way, they will kill you, your friends, your dog, and everyone who ever knew your dog.

The Directorate doesn't fuck about. Take military action against them, and they will just straight-up cover you in missiles and bullets and explodey things like a fat man taking a ketchup bottle to a Double Whopper. Autocannon bukkake. Try to shoot them first, you're shooting at a holographic decoy, and they're behind you. Try to shoot the actually real them, and they'll just tank it, because their armour is enhanced with biological parts just so it can actually hate you. Also, you're wrong, that's still the fake holographic one, and they've got behind you again.

The Directorate lies. All of this is 100% bullshit. As is the preceding statement, it's a distraction to make you feel safe in your bed while a Spectral operative waits under it. The Directorate isn't as powerful as you think. It's just a couple of dudes who found ninja swords and black body armour and think they're the best thing since antimatter reactors, they're not a galaxy-choking conspiracy. Actually, there's not even a Spectral Directorate. They all died years ago. The preceding statements sponsored by the Spectral Directorate. We are not under your bed. We have not put anything in your drink. Our milk is delicious. Take. Eat. Sleep, while we kill your Gods.