Founding the World
Even in the golden years of the Second Wave of human expansion, colonizing an alien world was costly and dangerous. Countless worlds proved too harsh or too capricious for human habitation, and the skeletal remains of empty colony habs and eroded terraforming equipment are common sights to explorers. In order to convince men and women to leave the lives they knew, a world needed to offer them something they couldn’t get back home. The table below offers twenty of the more common reasons for a world’s colonization. The choice may be obvious from the world tags you’ve already generated, or you might choose to roll randomly. Multiple rolls might be used if you wish to combine several motivations for its colonization. Once you’ve figured out the reason that this world called its first settlers, you’ll have a much easier time fleshing out the ways in which that first start grew.
Castaways are forced to take whatever world can bear them. A jump drive may have disastrously mis-jumped, the original destination might have been overwhelmed by hostile aliens, or their entire expedition might have been hoodwinked by unscrupulous wildcat scouts. For whatever reason, the colony was never really meant to be founded in the first place. Such worlds are often harsh, barely habitable, and devoid of any attraction. Still, as a colony develops, the natives might discover that the initial scouts had overlooked something very important indeed.
Corporate factory worlds were chosen for their utility in expanding the frontier. They were close enough to the markets to support the manufacture of light, precious trade goods that could be carried in conventional spike drive ships, or else they might have actually merited a jump gate of their own to take their wares back to the core in massive, driveless freighters. Most factory worlds are rich in industrial materials, with a minimally sufficient biosphere.
Ethnic and national purity drove some splinter cultures to transplant their “pure race” to the stars. Angrily contemptuous of the ossified divisions of Old Terra and the polyglot mingling of the frontier, these men and women resolved to maintain their traditional ways and bloodlines far from the contaminating influence of other worlds. Despite their attempt to freeze their cultures in an “authentic” form, the inexorable pressures of colonization and survival have left most of these worlds pursuing folkways that would be incomprehensible to their ancestors.
Excavation sites mark worlds with extensive alien ruins or early First Wave remains. For planets once dominated by an advanced alien race, it was often worthwhile to establish an entire colony revolving around unearthing and analyzing the secrets of the ancient dead. For worlds that had once known human inhabitants, Second Wave colonists could take advantage of the work already performed in making their new homes. Most such “lost colonies” perished due to infighting or pirate raids, but some Second Wave colonists were left to discover other, more sinister reasons for the disappearance of those who came before.
Exiles were on the losing end. War, ethnic cleansing, alien pressure, a world turned uninhabitable by stellar caprice or volcanic action... whatever the reason, the men and women who came here were forced out of their old homes. Exile worlds are usually marginal planets, the leavings and leftovers of the scout reports, or else hidden worlds off the conventional charts where a pursued people might hope to evade their tormentors.
Exotic genotypes were not unknown on the frontier, where worlds experimented with different forms of humanity with a willingness unknown in the more cautious core. Mer-people, human-animal hybrids, “improved” versions of human stock, genotypes designed for living in high or low gravity- all these variants could be found somewhere on the frontier. Genotypic modifications always came with a price, however, and these genetic flaws and drawbacks often left the new humans with a preference for the society of their own kind, where they could more easily be people rather than freaks. Other colonies were founded with darker intent, with maltech researchers pursuing forbidden lines of investigation into the genetic modification of humans into slaves and tools.
Homeworld overpopulation was uncommon on the frontier, as it presumed either a very old world or one very limited in its carrying capacity. Still, some planets were just too unfriendly to bear the weight of the population, and the first colonists of this world chose the planet as the best available landing space for the excess.
Invasion forces never really wanted to live on this world. They were just unfortunate enough to be stuck there when the Scream severed so much of humankind’s communications. Many such forces were garrison commands charged with holding down a freshly-conquered frontier world for some distant stellar polity, while others were there to drive out aliens and take the world for humanity. It is not unusual for descendants of both sides to make up the inhabitants of the world. Necessity may have forced them to cooperate, but old hates are often woven deep into the structure of their societies.
Liaison outposts were originally intended as self-sustaining forward bases for contact with other stellar polities or advanced alien civilizations. Most were populated largely with diplomats, scientists, and a leavening of military and espionage personnel. This confused hodgepodge often made an unpromising start for a suddenly-isolated world, but many of them were able to work with their counterparts to build a society that was a harmonious blend of both progenitors.
Mandate malcontents were troublemakers, ones not violent or dangerous enough to merit a prison planet, but still more trouble than they were worth. Cultural innovators, AI management protestors, economic deviants, and all the other square pegs of the late Second Wave were often rounded up to be dispatched to some marginally habitable world. Toward the end of the Second Wave, the Mandate was so ossified that these shipments of malcontents formed the largest part of its outward migration. Most of them had very little in common with each other, but those colonies that survived their initial conflicts often matured into vigorously individualistic but cooperative societies.
Military outposts were founded by the Terran Mandate or some local stellar power in order to keep a forward base near trouble. Shipyards, armories, factory farms, and all the other support necessary for keeping an army on its feet and a fleet in space were the usual supplements to the initial colonists’ efforts. These worlds often became the nucleus of later stellar polities; those that survived the initial trauma of their isolation. Many collapsed into chaos and general warfare as panicked soldiers or ambitious generals proved more than the society’s infrastructure could bear.
Political liberty was an ambition that the Terran Mandate never did manage to completely quash. There were always those stubborn splinter groups who did not care to obey a distant master, those that insisted on self-rule and local independence. Rather than fight them, the Mandate often simply shipped them to the next barely-habitable rock and let them taste the fruits of their much-loved liberty. Many of these patchwork colonies collapsed under the squabbling, prickly independence of the early colonists, but those that were able to overcome that initial division often displayed a sense of unity and respect for the local laws that they never would have shown to their former master.
Precious exports drove the settlement of many worlds. A rare plant extract, large lodes of rare minerals, costly natural crystals or exotic gas extracts... all of these things tempted miners and gatherers to make a new life. When the Scream cut ties with the rest of the cosmos, many of these worlds died, unable to survive the often hostile environments in which such rarities are found. Even those that lived usually found their precious export to be entirely useless to them without the array of pretech manufacturing facilities necessary to make use of it. Once ties are reestablished with the rest of the sector, these worlds can find themselves wealthy overnight.
Prison planets were dumping grounds for the worst criminals and terrorists of the Terran Mandate, and often got brisk business from their neighboring frontier worlds. Prisoners were tossed on the surface with nothing more than the bare necessities of life, there to pick a living from the surface or die unmourned. Even the children born to the “inmates” could expect only to live out their lives under the baleful eyes of the security satellites. When the Scream came, many of these planets scarcely noticed the difference. Those that still support life are often ringed with dangerous warden stations programmed to repel unauthorized visitors. Some such stations have gone dead with the long centuries, but others still stand watch over their charges below.
Refueling outposts existed on the very far fringes of frontier space, usually ramshackle corporate affairs with fuel, food, atmosphere, and entertainment for passing spike drive craft. Prospectors and wildcatters often made these outposts their temporary home, and even the smallest usually had enough firepower to hold off minor pirate raids. The population of such outposts was usually very small, leading to a limited genetic pool that often gives the resultant population a distinct appearance. Those without the surviving postech medical science to deal with the problem often experience significant congenital defects.
Religious liberty was not to be found on most of the core worlds of the Terran Mandate. Faiths were restricted to “appropriate cultural groups” as identified by Mandate officials and AI managers, and proselytization and conversion were forbidden. The urge to believe was unquenchable, however, and colonial groups could petition to be assigned to a colony world where they could establish their own faith. The tight cohesion and shared community made these religious colonies surprisingly successful, but the centuries of the Scream often saw faiths decaying, splintering, or evolving into shapes utterly inimical to the original founders’ intentions.
Research outposts were usually placed on planets with unique natural features, such as freakish geology or weather patterns. Others were placed to observe interesting stellar phenomenon. Some were established in order to conduct extremely dangerous research, and a few were never intended as anything but creches for maltech abominations and forbidden science. The tech levels of such planets were often well-preserved through the centuries of the Scream, but the small initial populations often result in the same inbreeding and medical issues that face many refueling outposts.
Rich natural resources drew many of the rank and file of colonies. While these worlds rarely had any especially valuable exports, the sheer volume of edible biomass, breathable atmosphere, and useful industrial materials made such worlds ideal for general colonization. These worlds rarely faced the raw struggle with privation and want that touched less fortunate realms, but that luxury was often simply translated into war over more trivial differences.
Social liberty was equally constrained in the Mandate, each world and group prescribed “socially harmonious” patterns to follow to minimize internal conflicts. Some demanded the right to follow more extreme paths- “-isms” of every kind and description, alternate sexualities, or bizarre economic structures. Almost all of these worlds have at least one habit or social structure that defies comprehension in outsiders. Sometimes these quirks are harmless expressions of free will and liberty, but at other times these planets serve as havens for monstrous evil.
Trade hubs were once major markets for surrounding planets, brokerage worlds meant to serve far-flung sectors. When the Scream hit, many were forced to survive on what they had in their warehouses. The result can be a world of drastically uneven tech and many lost caches of ancient wealth.