Encylopedia Derelicta

---In Regards to Technology---

Ship Classes

• Battlecruiser = By far the largest (and most expensive) ship class in existence. Only a few exist in the entire world.
• Dreadnought = Slow and lumbering but heavily armored and bristling with heavy cannons, this is the most common capital ship of particularly large or wealthy organizations. Despite their role as a flagship, they typically stay as far back as possible, peppering the battlefield with artillery fire.
• Frigate = The workhorse of any serious organization, this ship is fast, maneuverable and can be equipped with enough firepower to be quite dangerous. These are the most plentiful ship in any decently sized fleet.
• Schooner = Derisively refered to as "the guppy," almost everyone with sailing experience paid their dues on this ship. Though it has enough defenses to just avoid being a deathtrap, it still crumples before any competent force and is primarily built to complete a basic task and run like hell back to base. Thankfully, it's very good at retreating. And if one doesn't make it back? No big deal. Compared to the other classes, they're cheap as dirt to build.
• Cargo = Commonly known as "the whale," these ships do one thing and do it well: carry shit. Despite their impressive size, their armaments are basic since as much space as possible is devoted to storage. Because of this, they'll almost always have some sort of escort.

 ---In Regards to Ecology---

Crows

While 'Gulls rule the seas in the south, in Northern lands the Great Flocks are made of Crows. Crows have endured since the Fall, staying mostly the same. Only three things have changed: for one, they're about as big as Eagles. For two they have grown extra eyes, 4-6 varying by individual, and oft times the extras are sightless. Thirdly, there heads and bodies are covered in light scales, modified feathers evolved to deal with the desert heat. Flocks can be anywhere from 15 to 400 individuals, depending on how many resources are available. They're smart, smarter than your average dog, and are popular pets in some of the more lawless areas. Whatever Crows you may find in Nation territory, they will be reviled, believed to be cursed, thought of as bringers of death and plague. Northward, they're seen as symbols of good luck and wisdom, like massive, scaly Albatross. They are also a prominent symbol of the Lockjaw Union. One of the primary things that allows such a sprawling organization to remain organized is a vast network of trained carrier crows, which can carry messages far faster than many ships and can pass into National Territory relatively inconspicuously. Because of the ring shape of the Union's territory, this means they can take far more direct routes to most destinations in the Union.

Rock Lobsters

Thorough information on the Rock Lobster is scarce, as barely anyone has gotten close enough to one to study it without being hideously mauled. Even carcasses are difficult to find, as the harsh conditions of the Ocean guarantee that dead lobsters are eaten by other creatures in need of food, including other, living lobsters. Some things, however, are readily apparent. At 10-15 feet in length, it is one of the largest animals in the known world, beaten out only by the sand krakken and the brown whale. Its body curves upward into the air, taking a crescent shape. Six double-jointed legs extend from the carapace, and two limbs extend from its back, upon which are claws roughly three fourths the main body's size. The rock lobster's stone grey exoskeleton, for which it's named, is as hard as steel. This, combined with its massive strength, allow it to tear just about anything to shreds, including duneships. It also means that harming one is nigh on impossible.

Because it spends much of its time burrowing underground, the rock lobster has poor eyesight, and relies primarily on long antennae, which have both tactile and olfactory sensors, both of which are extremely sensitive. On its back, in front of its claws, lies a set of complex bones, organs, and chords, which allow the creature to make a surprisingly varied set of sounds. Some have even been shown to mimic human voice. These are used in mating calls and also to draw in prey, which are usually dead before they realize that the curious music coming from the ground was a trap. It is against National law to play loud songs on the seas, and any sailor hearing music is advised to immediately reverse course. These sound organs represent the most significant gap in the rock lobster's natural defenses and might be considered a weak point, if not for the entire cavity being lined with small preening claws used to keep the organs clean. These aren't strong enough to cut through metal but they can shred up flesh just fine.

Long story short, if you come across a rock lobster, you are fucked. But then again, becoming the first man to go in against a rock lobster and win, bare-handed no less, would be pretty darn impressive.

Raw, Unprocessed Forum Post

Derelicteworld is coming back from some hellish apocalypse, so while life always finds a way, it's going to be an extremely simple foodchain, with only a handful of species
I'm imagining the base biomatter for the ecosystem isn't provided by vegetation, but by tiny, photosynthetic gnat-like insects that tend to gather in huge swarms that from a distance look indistinguishable from any other sand dune

now, these things are poisonous to humans, so they cannot be harvested for food
but these gnats are attracted to reefs of land-coral, which are visually like coral and function somewhat like a hybrid of a pitcher plant and cactus
they feed like pitcher plants, and somewhat like a cactus they have a thick outer crust but inside is a flesh rich in nutrients and water except it isn't poisonous

some communities harvest this land-coral, but the real money is in the "large" herbivores of the desert, which are mostly unchanged prawns about the size of a dog. they have mouthparts sufficiently strong to break open and eat the coral, and their bodies are naturally sealed against dehydration, which means they can migrate in herds across the desert from coral patch to coral patch

there would be two kinds of apex predators. One is a kind of huge nautiloid, with a drill-shaped shell that it uses to burrow through the sand. they prey on entire herds of prawns, and require enormous hunting grounds, like a tyrannosaurus would. that's the kind of apex predator they are. long tentacles like a squid's, each tipped with a pair of grasping pincers, and a beak powerful enough to shear through steel. Some have taken a liking to hunting duneships, tipping them over through sheer muscle and hunting the crew as they try to escape, or coming up directly underneath the craft and wrapping it in tentacles, picking men off the deck and gnawing their way into the inside from the bottom. nasty fuckers

of course the scariest shit of all would be the rock lobsters. lobsters the size of a horse, with claws powerful enough to shred a duneship and carapace thick enough to repel gunfire. they don't hunt- twenty or thirty individuals will form a mass burrow and huddle together, going into a state of dormancy until something disturbs them, at which point they burst out of the dune that's built up around their bodies and kill and eat everything within a short range. then they go back to sleep. they're terrifying because practically any dune big enough could hold a colony, although they're extremely rare, and because logically there is not enough biomass out there to support them. how long do they sleep? why do they burrow? are they hiding from something worse? 

 ---In Regards to Geography---

The Marsh

Far in the east, at the base of the Spine (in what, during happier times, was called India), lies a miracle of air currents. Here is a confluence of three particularity wet air streams, and here is one of the rare places where it actually rains, and here is the worlds only surviving swamp. Vast, stretching from the mountains to the Vedic Sea, it is one of precious few places where water can be found pooling on the surface. It is thick, almost a rainforest, and has the most abundant amount of wildlife anywhere on the planet. Unfortunately, this makes it uninhabitable. Of the countless exploratory teams and pirate raiders to attempt to tame the Marsh, but none have ever come back out. Things, vast, vicious, and quick, make their home here, and anything too slow or unlucky will be turned into a hot meal.

 ---In Regards to Society---

The Machine

Scientia vincere tenebras!

The Machine is a secretive and secluded organization focused on the collection, research and protection of Old World technology. They believe in the responsible use and distribution of technology to ensure a brighter future and bring back the prosperity of the past, although the only people they deem responsible enough happen to be themselves. This in mind, they are still willing to trade their lesser technology with others for necessary goods, and are even willing to allow a few outsiders to join them to prevent future inbreeding, although those willing to join them must either perform a dangerous and incredibly hard task for them or bring them a piece of high-tech Old World technology.

The Machine is divided into three groups who complement each other: the Minds, the Bodies, and the Souls.

• The Souls could be seen as the scientists of the organization. They research old technology, make blue-prints for new technology and record the history of the world and their organization, although they have little knowledge or experience with the actual assembly of the technology and have little training in the use of it. 
• The Minds could be seen as the mechanics or assemblers of the organization. They repair and reproduce old technology and build new technology from the blueprints given to them by the Souls, but they have little knowledge of the science behind what they are building, nor do they have any experience in the use of it. 
• The Bodies could be seen as the soldiers of the organization. They are trained in the use of the technology the Souls and the Minds create, but know little of the science or the assembly of it. 

The Machine is lead by a select group of Elders, mostly older Souls, who decide on the direction of the organization, and organize the Machine's various undertakings. When a Machinist comes of age they are given a ring with a cog-motive, made from a metal corresponding to their position in The Machine, with Brass for Souls, Copper for Minds and Iron for Bodies. When a Machinist becomes an Elder, they are given a golden ring.

The Eyes Of The Machine

It is not through accident that the Machine uncovers the ancient secrets it safeguards- it is through the labor of brave Bodies, who travel to places of technology, retrieve it,  and bring it back safely to the security provided by the Workshops' thick metal doors.

But this technology is found through different means entirely. There are three primary branches of the Machine, and two secondary ones: the Elders, who guide the Machine- and the Eyes, that search for new riches amongst the sands.

The Eyes of the Machine are a select group, numbering perhaps two dozen across the world at any one time. Recruitment of the Eyes is open to any Machinist when he or she comes of age- but the world at large is a frightening place, and few volunteer to leave the safety of their Workshop to venture into the relentless winds of the sea. Of those that volunteer, fewer still are selected. To be an Eye requires clarity of mind and purity of will, beyond the great skills potential Eyes will need to demonstrate. Each Eye must be unanimously agreed by the Elder Council of their workshop to be worth the trust of the Machine in their task, and after being provisionally granted the title, they are put through a brutal regimen of training that pushes to the limit both their capacity as students and their teachers' capacity as scholars and soldiers.

When an Eye leaves the Workshop, they are alone. There are no other Machinists on the sands, apart from the rare group of Bodies retrieving technology. Few outside the Workshops even know what the Machine is. Of those, none trust it.

Eyes will range far and wide in their hunt, and will communicate with their home Workshop infrequently, if at all. Some go years without so much as a word, and most will never visit their Workshop again. The search for technology is a difficult one: all is lost, and it takes a dedicated Eye to see true value. Each Eye is forced to adapt, overcome, and learn to live on the sea. Many die. Those that survive often acquire names for themselves. Few would guess their origin.

The Old World Trading Company (OWTC)

The OWTC, more generally known as just “The Company”, started out as a small, organized salvaging group, before branching out into different forms of commerce which would lead to their rise as the Nations premier source of income, eclipsing all other trading groups in ships and manpower. The OWTC's main form of income nowadays comes from their extensive trade between settlements, where they send out large caravans, with the Nation and any freelancers who sign on providing protection.

Organization:

The OWTC has two types of shareholders: The Participants, who could be seen as non-managing partners, and the 60 Governors, the managing partners. The Liability of both the Participants and the Governors is limited to paid-in capital (usually, Governors have unlimited liability). Also, the capital is permanent during the lifetime of the company. As a consequence, investors who wish to liquidate their interest in the interim could only do this by selling their share to others on The Capital Stock Exchange.

The OWTC consists of six chambers in the Nation's port cities. Delegates of these chambers convene as the Lords Seventeen. They are selected from the Governor-class of shareholders.

Of the Lords Seventeen, eight delegates are from the Chamber of the Capital, four from the second largest Chamber at the time, and one from each of the smaller Chambers, while the seventeenth seat alternates between the five smaller Chambers. The Capital has thereby got the decisive voice.

Sons of Ivaldi

The Sons of Ivaldi are a sect dedicated to the advancement of technology, mostly focusing in the fields of Ballistics, Mechanics and Chemistry. The Sons have a reputation for being insane, like wizards but with more black powder. They are almost single-handedly responsible for any tech found in Zealand and will pay a pretty penny for any pre-Rök artifacts. Several of their members have achieved mythic status as great heroes, such as Ivar the Oxidizer, who boiled an entire clutch of Rock Lobsters with nothing but a home made flamethrower and a barrel of whiskey.

The Tribes of Zealand

Far above Antarctica, at the very edge if Nation knowing, lies a archipelago known to the locals as Zealand. Sometime in the past, perhaps a few hundred years ago, the initial settlers stumbled upon a large cache of texts and songs detailing the myths of a long dead people.

Tales of a One-Eyed Crow-God, his Thunder Blessed Son, his treacherous brother. Stories of fierce battle, great heroes, incredible Kingdoms and magic blades. Myths of the end, and of a new beginning.

Time passed, and eventually these tomes where thought of as holy, the last word to an advanced people from their gods. In time, the men and women of Zealand adopted the Faith and traditions of this dead civilization, and for a while things where good. However, in the past century, Zealand's crops have ceased to be enough, women have become scarce, and materials have started to run out. From this fearful time rose the Vikings. They pilot swift, dragon-faced crafts, racing throughout the great oceans and taking whatever wealth they can find.

They are the Great Vultures, they are the enemies of civilization, they are heathens, and they are some of the greatest archeologists in the Sandbox.

 ---In Regards to Combat---

Bikers

Bikers are one of the Lockjaw Union's greatest military advantages over the Nation, and are one of the few things keeping the overwhelming National armada at bay. 
The average bike consists of a long metal "ski", a way to steer it, a single seat, and a powerful engine driving a pair of spiked tracks. Their operators typically carry grenades or small grenade launchers, and most are daring and rebellious with a strong independent streak, fond of stunts and bold maneuvers. Bikers must be deployed in secret, typically by a cargo ship shadowing a National fleet from upwind and beyond visual range. 
The strength of the biker is in confusion. Their tracks throw up huge plumes of sand and dust, quickly creating a cloud that obstructs vision and irritates the exposed tissues of nose and throat. Their drivers are always prepared, with standard issue goggles and facemask. Bikers take advantage of the sand cloud to strike at the tracks of duneships, slipping in underneath their guns, hurling grenades into the wheel mechanisms, and slipping away, never staying in visual range for long. Their engines are purposefully designed to be as loud as possible, and while this leaves most bikers near-deaf, it also means that communication between and within attacked duneships becomes that much more difficult. Victims of a successful biker raid are left crippled and stranded, at the mercy of any Lockjaw fleet dispatched after them, while bikers usually take few casualties.

Cannoneering

Salvaging isn't all one happy scavenger hunt, not when you're dealing with prime ruins, or near popular trade routes. It's common law that any duneship flying a Scavenger flag is ripe pickings, usually for any other duneship flying a Scavvie flag. Any captain you take out of commission is one less rival, and if you can claim his duneship and so long as most of his crew ain't too loyal, you got yourself one hell of a deal. Followin' this, it makes sense that most times two ships cross each other out on the sea, it's gonna come to shots. What, you afraid of someone reportin' you?

Can't get too gung-ho with it, though. While most boats have enough firepower to completely scrap another in a long-range firefight, there's no victory in that. All you've done is ruined perfectly good salvage; wasted ammo too, besides. Most captains who kill duneships pick up a reputation for it, and they're treated as the scum of the earth. Still, nobody wants to pass up such a lovely prize, so how do you solve the problem?

Cannoneers. 
Anybody with a strong back that won't complain too much can man the cannons. All they gotta do is load the shells and pull the lever- grunt work. The real work is done by theCannoneer- only one of them on a boat, usually because each of 'em has got too huge an ego to deal with any others. A Cannoneer is a master mathematician, gunsmith, drill sergeant, strategist, and fighter- you gotta be, to command the gun decks. The captain says where the boat goes, the bosun keeps it runnin', and the driver decides how best to get there, but the guns are all the cannoneer. At range, they sight off on each shot, make sure it's gonna hit where they want it to, and it's not so powerful it'll bust the other duneship's fuel tanks or cook off their unfired shells. The really good cannoneers can disable a duneship's main engine from half a mile away with a single slug fired from the boat's main cannon. The main cannon doesn't get used much, though. Too powerful. Most cannoneer work is done at close range, the broadsides, the really sticky part. See, wanting to capture another duneship means having to get on there, and kill anyone who fights back. And that means some real delicate driving and gun work, because you don't wanna leave yourself wide open to the other guy, and you don't wanna blow him up: at that range, his ammo going off will cook your own, and then nobody wins. 

At that range, a cannoneer's gotta make sure his own gun deck is at least as afraid of him as they are of the enemy. Every word is a roar that'll make the ears pop off of your skull. The most creative insults you've ever seen. Usually they won't manhandle the crew, but more than one keeps a whip around to deal with slow loaders. It's rough out there, especially when there's an entire duneship at stake. And when the breach finally gets made, and they dig out the grapnels and boarding planks? A cannoneer's gotta decide whether he's gonna defend his own gun deck, or take the fight to the other guy. Not all cannoneers can make a shot from a half mile away, but all of them are deadly in a boarding action, whether they use a sword or a gun, or hell, I've heard of cannoneers out East what fight with their bare hands. Not a job to envy, that one.

Duels

Conflicts between ships often break out, and when crews can both boast a skilled cannoneer, a different method must be employed to avoid mutual destruction. Thus the rules of dueling were created.

-a challenge to a duel may never be refused.
-The captains of both ships step out onto the sand to meet one 
-The two circle one another, letting their swords drag along the ground behind them to form a ring in the sand.
-At this point, the battle begins. It ends when either captain is unable to continue fighting through death or incapacitation.
-Should either side leave the ring, the cannoneer of the crew of the enemy ship will open fire until the cheater is dead or gets back in the ring.
-The victor of the duel may make any request of the losing crew that they wish, and they are duty bound to 
carry it out.

One look at these rules reveals that they do very little to mitigate ship damage, as there are enough places for argument and cheating that battles often break out again between the crews immediately after the duel ends. 
However, the rules are taken extremely seriously in the Lockjaw Union, where a captain's swordsmanship is valued 
just as highly as his ability to run a ship, if not moreso.

Winning a duel will result in a gain in Special. Losing will result in serious consequences for not only your character bur possibly your entire team, so consider the option carefully.