You wake on a world you did not choose, with a ship you cannot afford. Say what you do; the dice decide how it goes. Somewhere out past the lanes is a vault nobody has opened.
> The dice pick your world. You get a ship, a debt, and a bill every month whether you fly or not.
> So you take work. You say what you do; the referee says what happens.
> Work buys fuel. Fuel buys range. Range gets you to the half of the sector nobody has looked at.
> Most characters run out of money first. That is the job. ▊
Every world is rolled, not designed. Fuel, work, trouble, or nothing at all — nobody picked the good ones, so nobody can be told where they are.
Money is the difficulty setting. Range is the reward.
Two dice, six times. Pick a career, serve as long as you survive it. Paying buys three rolls; you keep one.
The sector decides where you land. A busy starport, or a rock with no fuel.
Say what you do. The referee asks for a roll, and the story follows the dice.
A week and a tank of fuel per jump, however far you go. Better ships reach further.
The bills never stop. Miss one and the ship is gone. Nothing gets undone.
Clean fuel is expensive and safe. Skimming it off a gas giant is free, and occasionally puts you somewhere nobody meant to go.
Two dice, add your skill, beat 8. How far past 8 you land is how well it went. Difficulty moves the roll, never the target. The referee reads the dice — it never picks the result.
The dice are thrown and locked before you decide whether you want them. You end up with someone specific — good at three things, hopeless at the rest.
Roll one now — free →Six characteristics, rolled on the server and frozen before you see them. Then twenty-four services, and a life you walk rather than watch — which speciality you train, where an injury lands, whether you sign on for another four years.
Free. No wallet, no signup, no email. Every roll comes back with the seed that produced it, so you can recompute the lot.
This one is a sample and can never be minted.
Free samples, rolled on the real engine. None of them carries a token — the registry of minted characters opens with the first mint.
One world out of roughly 640. The coordinate is not stored anywhere, because it does not exist yet: we publish a salt commitment first, then derive the location from a public random beacon nobody controls. The referee is never told where the vault is — there is nothing to tell it.
The hash goes in that box when it exists. A commitment published after the fact proves nothing, so it stays empty until it is real.
Clues surface on worlds nobody has a reason to visit. Nobody narrows it down alone — you need what other crews found, and they need yours.
No. It describes what happens; the dice decide it. Every roll comes back with a receipt you can re-run.
No. The first roll is free and needs no wallet — but it is a sample and can never be minted. Minting is paid, and the contract is not live yet.
Yes — during character creation, and long after it. Nothing gets undone.
A tabletop game first. The rules come from an open-licence SRD, transcribed table by table. The chain only proves your character is yours and the prize is real.
No. How the sector is built is no secret — and it tells you nothing about where the vault is, because the location is derived from a public beacon after the commitment is published. Nobody holds it in the meantime, us included.
Most of the sector has never been looked at.