0.0 Emergency Signal

This will make more sense later, but you will see me add rolls and other information directly into the story as we go along. This will showcase what dice rolls and moves led me down a particular narrative path. Starforged follows a narrative-first playstyle and I will be leaning heavily into it, rolling only when I want to interject randomness or need to make a decision.

Out among the stars, the Feed was merely a whisper of its planetary self. Instant communication allowed for almost any data to reach almost anyone, but out among the stars, there wasn’t much to listen to. Emergency beacons and help requests sometimes pierced the silence, but as far as Keith was concerned, it felt peaceful out here.

Quiet. A stark contrast from his life until three weeks prior.

His implants didn’t have to process vast quantities of data, and his mind could focus on the present moment for a change. Not that there was much to see — just a barren control room whose walls were marked with unknown symbols. Beyond that, down a narrow corridor, lay a couple of living spaces tucked back behind a sliding door. A ladder off the main hallway led down to Sanctuary’s engineering and maintenance sections. It was a modular design meant to accommodate almost anything its owners wanted, but he had neither resources nor desire to make changes to this ship.

For now, this was fine.

After his near-suicidal escape, Keith welcomed the silence and the momentary peace. So he could admit to being distracted by random flights of fancy when the placid surface of the Feed suddenly surged. A moment later, the data resolved into words:

“Incoming distress signal: This is deep space station Providence requesting immediate assistance. I repeat, this is Providence, a deep space mining facility in the Iron Rest sector. We require medical assistance immediately. Please, if this message reaches you, help!”

The message contained coordinates for the facility's location and some basic facts about the place. Currently, it was stationed not far from an asteroid field. Current population: a few hundred permanent residents, most of them miners. The facility focused mostly focused on asteroid mining, a relatively profitable endeavor as far as such things went.

Strangely, the signal carried no responses. No one was answering Providence’s calls for aid, and Keith didn’t know why. His right hand strayed to the dagger sheathed on his belt, one of his very few possessions. He could have stayed away, safely huddled aboard his tiny, strange ship. He wasn’t human enough to need much in the way of supplies or oxygen — he could survive for months out here without encountering another soul with the nutrition packets in the ship's supply locker and the well-maintained water reclamation systems.

But then, a hundred souls might die and he already had more than enough blood on his hands.

Silently, he made a vow that he would aid the miners if it was possible. The least he could do was make the effort. What else was there, in the vastness of black emptiness, but effort and hope?

Swear an Iron Vow - [Strong Hit: 5 + 2 + 0 = 7 vs 1 | 5]