Science Fiction Universe Creation
Posted: 2005-12-10 11:38pm
To keep a long story short, I've been in the process of creating my own science fiction universe for about a year now. I'm looking for other interested parties to bounce ideas off of and collaborate, however. I find that some of my best ideas emerge from discussion or cross-questioning with others. If anyone's interested, be my guest to write a PM or contact me.
Broadly speaking, my story covers the development of strictly human civilization on other worlds. It tends to adhere to the BattleTech vision of relatively lightly-populated worlds with small(er) military forces fighting largely tactical skirmishes over resources and salvage. I don't feature BattleMechs, but combat is facilitated through the use of vessels that function somewhat like dropships - that is, they break atmosphere, disgorge flying columns, and then add their own minimal firepower to the melees that ensue.
My inspiration has really been the Dark Ages of medieval Europe, although I am trying to work in other elements as well. (For example, there's a healthy corporate element.) There is a Church, with all that it entails (Crusades, heresy, sects, the works).
Here's some flavor text...
In the year 5244, the Terran Union was nearing the height of its power. For nearly three millennia, entire generations had lived and died without once setting foot on their homeworld. Human civilization spanned more than one thousand star systems; one hundred billion coaxed a living on eight thousand worlds. Most were starving. One in six was a slave.
Nominally speaking, the planets on which settlement had been undertaken were colonial extensions of the Terran Union, a quasi-representative governing body whose pedigree reached back to the early twenty-third century. Functionally, however, it had consolidated effective authority over less than half its territory, and could hardly afford to contest the status of the remainder. Some populations grew wealthy and even complacent under Terran rule; others went years without evidence that they were citizens in a larger galactic body, with rights enshrined by constitutional arrangement and guaranteed by decree of the Universal Church.
The Terran Union inaugurated no less than eighteen separate attempts at coordinated expansion; only the first ten are considered by modern historians to have achieved fruition. On worlds of obvious strategic or commercial value, the government often consolidated its rule quickly, replacing incompetent administrators and rapidly expanding the scope of developmental projects. Where coffers were not soon refilled, however, interest waned, and when local officials reported one failure too many, parliament was often unwilling to bear the mounting costs of empire. All too frequently, the Terran Union relinquished its responsibilities to the very settlements it had founded, offering planetary charters for purchase by the highest bidder. In some cases, corporate interests obtained a stake in the abandoned worlds; on others, the Vulgatian Church planted its own banner. But for the vast majority – deemed worthless in the eyes of those with superior finances – it was typically the local elite that incorporated themselves as an enfoeffed nobility, cementing their own legacy on the backs of thousands of hapless “subjects” suddenly placed at the mercy of the rich.
The typical world of the early fifth millennium was a provincial backwater. The average colonist was a rural smallholder, obliged to coax from the ground a stable diet to feed his large family, and a steady income to make good on his still larger debt to the news powers that be. When formal development ended, security was at a premium; those who could afford the sacrifice usually acceded to heavy taxation rather than face the prospect of going without a wealth patron who could not only punish bandits, but provide against the threat of drought or famine. The unlucky were obliged to mortgage their land in perpetuity; unable to pay taxes, they became bound to the land entirely, working much of their time on the land of their masters. Others became slaves, consigned to even greater calumny, whether because of their criminal history, heresy, or simply a surfeit of powerful enemies. A slim handful composed a technical elite or merchant class, with the background, education, and opportunity to fill specialized niches in the infant economies on the frontier. An even more select group became retainers; the personal appointees, enforcers, and headmen of the privileged handful at the summit of every new social hierarchy that, despite the absence of a formal peer list with prerogatives recognized on Earth, could nevertheless assert themselves as nobility on the worlds they now owned entirely. Their favorite pasttime was war.
Broadly speaking, my story covers the development of strictly human civilization on other worlds. It tends to adhere to the BattleTech vision of relatively lightly-populated worlds with small(er) military forces fighting largely tactical skirmishes over resources and salvage. I don't feature BattleMechs, but combat is facilitated through the use of vessels that function somewhat like dropships - that is, they break atmosphere, disgorge flying columns, and then add their own minimal firepower to the melees that ensue.
My inspiration has really been the Dark Ages of medieval Europe, although I am trying to work in other elements as well. (For example, there's a healthy corporate element.) There is a Church, with all that it entails (Crusades, heresy, sects, the works).
Here's some flavor text...
In the year 5244, the Terran Union was nearing the height of its power. For nearly three millennia, entire generations had lived and died without once setting foot on their homeworld. Human civilization spanned more than one thousand star systems; one hundred billion coaxed a living on eight thousand worlds. Most were starving. One in six was a slave.
Nominally speaking, the planets on which settlement had been undertaken were colonial extensions of the Terran Union, a quasi-representative governing body whose pedigree reached back to the early twenty-third century. Functionally, however, it had consolidated effective authority over less than half its territory, and could hardly afford to contest the status of the remainder. Some populations grew wealthy and even complacent under Terran rule; others went years without evidence that they were citizens in a larger galactic body, with rights enshrined by constitutional arrangement and guaranteed by decree of the Universal Church.
The Terran Union inaugurated no less than eighteen separate attempts at coordinated expansion; only the first ten are considered by modern historians to have achieved fruition. On worlds of obvious strategic or commercial value, the government often consolidated its rule quickly, replacing incompetent administrators and rapidly expanding the scope of developmental projects. Where coffers were not soon refilled, however, interest waned, and when local officials reported one failure too many, parliament was often unwilling to bear the mounting costs of empire. All too frequently, the Terran Union relinquished its responsibilities to the very settlements it had founded, offering planetary charters for purchase by the highest bidder. In some cases, corporate interests obtained a stake in the abandoned worlds; on others, the Vulgatian Church planted its own banner. But for the vast majority – deemed worthless in the eyes of those with superior finances – it was typically the local elite that incorporated themselves as an enfoeffed nobility, cementing their own legacy on the backs of thousands of hapless “subjects” suddenly placed at the mercy of the rich.
The typical world of the early fifth millennium was a provincial backwater. The average colonist was a rural smallholder, obliged to coax from the ground a stable diet to feed his large family, and a steady income to make good on his still larger debt to the news powers that be. When formal development ended, security was at a premium; those who could afford the sacrifice usually acceded to heavy taxation rather than face the prospect of going without a wealth patron who could not only punish bandits, but provide against the threat of drought or famine. The unlucky were obliged to mortgage their land in perpetuity; unable to pay taxes, they became bound to the land entirely, working much of their time on the land of their masters. Others became slaves, consigned to even greater calumny, whether because of their criminal history, heresy, or simply a surfeit of powerful enemies. A slim handful composed a technical elite or merchant class, with the background, education, and opportunity to fill specialized niches in the infant economies on the frontier. An even more select group became retainers; the personal appointees, enforcers, and headmen of the privileged handful at the summit of every new social hierarchy that, despite the absence of a formal peer list with prerogatives recognized on Earth, could nevertheless assert themselves as nobility on the worlds they now owned entirely. Their favorite pasttime was war.