3 (in school uniform) -- What do people in the BLEAK EMOTIONALLY DISTANT FUTURE wear when they still believe in hopes/dreams?




How do you pay for “schools”? Corporate sponsorship, of course. Hence school uniforms being plastered with logos.

» Asked by tbpnemo

a super super sweet drawing done by the wonderful Billy Fore, which I’ve been keen to post but have barely been on my computer the last couple of days!! thanks man, you are the best <3

sorry for the spam. actually im not sorry


Commission for Wruf!

The legacy of REZQ’s takeover of a number of courier companies (mainly to get a cheap deal on a fleet of FTL-enabled cargo ships for refurbishment) is a huge pile of undelivered cargo. Many of the intended recipients of the packages have long given up on receiving their things, because of the difficulty of pursuing any kind of customer inquiry with a company like REZQ. So a lot of this stuff is in delivery limbo, cluttering up the holds of ships as nobody is sure who it actually belongs to or whether it can be thrown away.

One rule that’s always supposed to be obeyed, is, as a result, “don’t mess with the cargo”. Most REZQ administration AIs will do much to discourage their organic recovery operatives from touching any of the stuff in their ships’ cargo holds (though some AIs, without delivery objectives, can get stuck in an administrative loop, demanding constant pointless reorganisation of the boxes). But this discouragement is not enough to deter someone like Jess, rather an enthusiast for old-style wheeled vehicles, from sitting behind the wheel of a rare, powerful old expedition buggy.

If she’d just sat behind the wheel, it might have been okay. But firing up the engine “just to hear it growl” was a mistake. While she knows a lot about these types of vehicles, and had some idea of this thing’s kick, she, like so many others, didn’t realise that one of the reasons the car was discontinued was a fault that caused it to accelerate, whether you’re pushing down on the gas or not…


REZQ-themed commission for Tycloud.

While many in this increasingly peripatetic economy are seasoned spacefarers, some are new to being so far from home. Ty is one such example. Never having spent any considerable time away from his home planet, he watches it recede through one of the viewing ports of the craft that carries him to the Sol Labour Exchange, where he will finally try to find some kind of a job.

The very fact that Ty gazes back in this way is one of the things that marks him out as new to the game: those longer-in-the-tooth know that it’s one of the worst possible things you can do.


The Albedo II, the latest vacuum cutter from Niltraki Developments.

Modelled as part of a commission I’m working on right now.

What inspired your world of REZQ?


In one word? Lifeboats.

Lifeboats are so fucking cool. Deployed at a moment’s notice to rescue people in trouble at sea, often crewed by amateurs/volunteers, filled with cool technology for saving lives, etc. I just think they’re awesome.

The other aspect to REZQ — the corporate cynicism — came from my experiences of dealing with a courier company. They had such a bad reputation for losing parcels, not turning up, lying on the phone etc that they actually rebranded the entire company. I just loved (hated) that idea that, rather than dealing with the problem, they’d just rebrand the company. I also felt bad for the employees of that company—it obviously wasn’t really their fault that things were so bad; it was so disorganised, they were given way too many things to deliver, etc etc. 

So I thought it’d be fun to look at what would happen if a lifeboat service were run privately by a huge and faceless company that had no idea what it was doing, and didn’t really care either. Somewhere high up the decision had been made to spend X amount of money setting up a deep space lifeboat organisation, then from that point everything was farmed out to various other departments or contractors, with nobody really knowing enough about what the others were doing. In other words, I wanted to think about what it would be like to work for an organisation that was supposed to save lives but had such a contempt for everything but the bottom line that they would give nothing but the bare minimum of support. 

Add to that my copious experience working for shitty money in shitty jobs, failed ambition, the horrible alienating misery of depression which feels like being alone in deep space, etc, and you’ve got your setting.

Finally, why Thom? Because he’s exactly the kind of losery schlub who would end up in a job like this, and yet who feels so guilty about everything that he will do almost anything to ensure that nobody he’s supposed to be rescuing ends up dead. Not that he always manages.

Great question btw, thank you :3

» Asked by azazel501


commission for Svix!

While most Deep Space Courtesy Stops now have completely automated traffic control systems that communicate with the navigation and autopilot computers of incoming and outgoing vessels, there is, like in everything, much competition between different systems. As a result, many vessels cannot, in fact, make use of the automatic docking systems onboard the Starbreak Pleasure Palace, because their autodocks simply are not compatible. Then there are the vessels that don’t even have autodock. So, there is still plenty of work for people like Svix. 

Svix is responsible for directing almost all of the manually-guided space traffic into and out of the DSCS. This is no mean feat. While it’s okay when dealing with professional captains, who are able to operate or command their vessels into successful manual docking and departure procedures smoothly and without incident, the overriding majority of ships are not run by professionals any more. Most are run by people who rely almost entirely on automation to operate the vessel, with non-AI intervention coming only at relatively rare moments. Because these people have no hope of manually piloting the ships to dock and depart, and because there is no way Starbreak can provide enough pilots to send out to ships and guide them in, Svix is usually tasked with helping these novice non-commanders get their ships docked.

Each time is different, of course, as each vessel is “run” by a different person, with a different level of experience. Much of Svix’s time is spent triaging the vessels to ensure that those who need the most help manage to get it. Then it’s a case of working out how to manouevre the ship into place, or, more often, how to trick the vessel’s autodock into docking without it actually having to communicate with the incompatible system aboard the DSCS. On the whole, he manages very well — he’s not had a serious incident yet. But today is one of the more challenging days, as someone has pushed the wrong button at the wrong time, and now seems to be departing without clearance.


Here’s something that dropped my jaw in delight and gratitude. While “fan art” is a vulgar and arrogant term for such a great gift, I use it loosely in the tags to justify posting it here on the REZQ tumblr, as it depicts my central REZQ dude Thom.

Anyway, unmitigated kind and cool guy Relaxing Dragon commissioned Tumorhead to paint this beautiful piece of Thom and Science Fox's Echorin character. Echorin is a little lost, and a passing Thom is, for once, able to help out with some basic directions, given that this is a sector he's been bouncing around for days.

Thank you so so much for this wonderful thing!!



Designing a thing for a cosplay I want to do.

It’s supposed to be a Portable PHOME thrower. I know they don’t tend to be backpacks (that seems incredibly dangerous) but when I got the idea to do a REZQ recovery worker costume this is how it appeared to me and now I can’t get Glowing Pink Backpack that shoots Silly String out of my head

omg :D

(Source: riverbeagles)


Second commission for HerrTim on FA!

Horticulture. Geology. Cultivation. Most people would probably consider these things to be relatively sedate pursuits—a practice of contemplation and record-keeping, mostly done in the organised comfort of the greenhouse or the pristine cool of the research laboratory. Strange then that Dax would find that, increasingly, his expertise in these areas sees him gathering samples from inside active volcanoes, recording hours of sunlight in caustically sulphuric marshlands, or, as in this case, rappelling down the side of a cliff to gain access to a particularly interesting crater that’s not stable enough to land a shuttle.

As part of the initial planetary horticulturist research team hired by a pharmaceutical suppliers, Dax is responsible for surveying the possibility of growing a delicate, awkward, prima donna of a crop on this planet. Fortunately, he may actually be in line for something of a bonus. When the survey team originally arrived here, enthusiastic about the possibility of growing their crop on the planet owing to its solar positioning, climate, and so on, they had initially found the soil to have an absence of the correct mineral balance for that crop.  And while it is possible to ship out mineral supplements and fertilisers, to do so would be expensive, and eat into the company’s margins. 

What Dax realised is that areas of the planet had been bombarded by giant meteorites at some point in its history — and explorations of the crater sites had shown that those at least some of these giant space rocks had considerably enriched the soil where they had impacted. In other words, the planet is pockmarked with craters full of exactly the kind of fertiliser that the crop needs.

So now, with one cultivation site on the planet already operational, Dax is scouting out other craters, to see if the same goldmine of minerals can be found in them too. Sometimes job satisfaction does exist, even in the crappy space future.


commission for bliz!

Polygraphene Hardening Obsequent Mass Expediator—or PHOME™—is the central weapon in any recovery operative’s arsenal. For patching up a hull that’s leaking O2 into space, for sealing shut a ruptured hatch, or even for putting out a fire (though only on something that you wouldn’t want to use or touch again), PHOME™ is the duct tape of space; it is the constant and reliable friend, always ready and always at your side. Unfortunately, because PHOME™ is mutagenic, toxic, and bonds skin, hair, eyes, bone, and almost anything together instantly and irreversibly, setting harder than Iconel 625 steel, it’s more like the kind of friend who’s outwardly supportive but really, secretly, wants to see you fail. And die.

In any case, most recovery vessels tend to get through a lot of PHOME™. As a result, they tend to have a large PHOME™ storage facility onboard—though “storage” is a very euphemistic word for how PHOME™ must be handled. In reality, PHOME™ is so dangerous in its usable form that it’s generally stored longer-term in the form of two precursor compounds, which are mixed just before the PHOME™ needs to be used. Unfortunately, even the two precursor compounds that are mixed to create PHOME™ degrade over time into corrosive and explosive chemicals.

So, to keep any amount of PHOME™ onboard a spacecraft, an awkward process needs to be maintained: keep the precursor chemicals apart, until such time as they are in danger of decomposition. Once that point is reached, allow them into the mixer chamber to create the final PHOME™ form. The PHOME™ can be kept in the mixer tank for only so long, though, as its tendency to expand puts enormous internal pressure on the structure. In other words, a careful balance needs to be struck between a) leaving the PHOME™ unmixed so that too much in the tank does not blow it out (causing a catastrophic accident) and b) not allowing the precursor chemicals to degrade and eat through their own storage tanks.

It’s a tough job, and one that nobody, including Bliz here, is going to leave to an inadequately calibrated, hurriedly-retrofitted ship’s computer. Here we see a demonstration of the very careful management of the PHOME™ mixing and interim storage management process—and the alarming signs of an emergency PHOME™ venting beginning to take place…


REZQ-themed commission for Ahst!

Like many people, Ceryl did not apply or opt to work for REZQ. Rather, he had previously been working for a small shipfitters’ company until their fleet, equipment, and employees were sold off, repurposed, and rebranded as part of an aggressive corporate takeover by REZQ’s parent firm. There was no small measure of frustration for Ceryl in this takeover: probably the most accurate term to describe the sergal’s skillset is “millwright”, and he would have been forgiven for thinking that expertise in working with machinery of all kinds—gained from a considerable investment of time and money—would go a long way towards protecting him from a terrible job in a spacefaring economy highly reliant upon automated machinery.

As things are, though, Ceryl finds himself working as a REZQ recovery operative—a job which, though not short on responsibility or the need for problem-solving, does not present the kinds of problems that reward clear, safe, thorough and logical thinking. Here, for instance, Ceryl is stuck trying to figure out how the lifter device on his ‘new’ ship’s recovery deck has been installed without any of the more expensive control components. Whoever fit out the ship in its refurbishment as a recovery vessel probably used a basic lifter kit that required further purchases to work, and filed the absence of those components under ‘N’ for ‘Not my problem’. Now it’s Ceryl’s problem, and if he’s going to get the lifter operational, he’s going to have to think of something, no matter how inelegant and unprofessional the solution might be.


Working for HYPE UP! Universal Communications LLE is very much like working for any number of equivalent organisations in the branding and design world of the future. While what they advertise for terms of staff is excited, passionate, ideas-driven design and marketing professionals with a deep passion for passionate branding and fostering brand passion in all known markets, this self-digesting recruitment-speak masks, as it almost always does, the everyday realities of working in such a position.

Like now for instance. Working for HU!COM, Anfael should be, maybe, designing things, or thinking of things, or coding things, or whatever. But instead she’s been pulled off a cluster of projects in order to fix a problem caused by an inadequately-briefed deployment department, who have rolled out an ad-revenue-subsidised display system to a fleet of hospital vessels without the right DRM modules. The mistake means that instead of the screens showing their normal displays intercut every couple minutes by ads, the only thing that they will display are stock images and placeholder messages. 

So, Anfael is going to be spending the next few weeks FTL jumping around to various vessels, installing, configuring and tweaking basic systems. Blessings counted, though: while she’s the one to clear up the mess, at least this wasn’t her mistake. When all this is done, she’ll still have a job — assuming HU!COM still exists by the time she gets back to the office.


commission for Uaine Sionnach!

Eagle-eyed watchers may remember Uaine Sionnach from an earlier unfortunate experience. Even in an organisation as shabby as REZQ, inadvertently causing a collision that destroys both the ship you’re trying to recover and the recovery vessel you were using to do it is frowned upon. For some reason, though, Uaine was never fired for it. Could this be because of HR incompetence? Left and right hands not knowing what each respective other is doing? Or could it be for more cynical reasons? Think, perhaps, of the value of having someone in your organisation with a history of wrecking ships by mistake. Think of how useful it would be to have someone who could easily be blamed later for a much bigger, much higher-value disaster than the loss of a refurbished recovery vessel and a derelict cargo ship. A scapegoat, in other words, always at arm’s reach, ready for sacrifice to the fickle gods of deep space insurance cover.

Whatever the reason, Uaine finds himself still wearing the Landirex Evasleev of a REZQ operative, but not really rescuing anyone. Rather, he’s in a high-junk orbit path above some planetoid or other, trying to bring back online a satellite whose main power source has been compromised by a debris strike. Those PV solar panels at the back of the satellite are ones that Uaine had to manually unfold. They can just about manage to supply enough juice to run the system BIOS and interface while the satellite goes through its first setup and calibration of the repaired power supply. The hope is, of course, that nothing clips or shears off the PV panels while that delicate operation is happening.