"I know pilots who dodge and they're all cowards."
G'zaark Mth'engi, infamous Mantis pirate (died after flying into supernova)
INTRODUCTION
Are you tired of ships that have effective engines and reasonable reload times? Do you think that dodging a shot or putting out a fire by evacuating the room is a sign of inner weakness? Are cloaking, healing, and looking before you shoot precautions for wimps? Well have I got a ship for you!
Hi! This is my first mod, fairly minor, focusing on a ship with a... challenging playstyle. A theoretically OVERPOWERED ship (starting with vulcan and artillery) that remains challenging to play, even. As you may be able to tell, the original concept for the ship was that it would be able to take the hits head on as a "tank" ship. This doesn't really make sense given the nature of all FTL players ships have 30 hull, so I gave it a few extra, but the main "attraction" of this ship is the fact that it has a technically functioning superweapon and a spare reactor to power said superweapon. In short, this ship is what happens when someone does their best to fit a superweapon/"OP weapon" onto a ship at the cost of everything else, something that has happened to me during my early days playing FTL. As a side note, it's technically a combination of multiple Rock and Zoltan ships, so it has the "perk" augments of both types, allowing for a drawn out fight of endurance (and waiting for weapons to charge). I don't know if it's going to make it to the end on hard, but it was very hard but playable when tested on normal (I did have the luck of finding a powerful laser charger mkII with enough scrap to get it running, so...)
If you have the patience for it, please read the origins section, as it explains a lot of the ship's idiosyncrasies, and also functions as an exploration of many things I found confusing about FTL lore (we never see Fed ships larger than tiny transports, why the base is about to fall but "the fleet" is still catching up right until the end, why the flagship would be present away from "the fleet", the chain of command for the Federation i.e. how does Tully command the entire Federation, what the "information" ACTUALLY IS since we aren't told anything about the flagship and the Feds seem to already know about it given that they've been fighting for an indeterminate amount of time before you got here, why there aren't any playable Federation made new ships etc.)
SHIP DETAILS (Feel free to skip if you don't want spoilers)
This ship has been blessed with:
- A combination of Zoltan and Rock crew: Put out fires and power rooms by SHEER FORCE OF WILL, not wimpy automated technology
- Three high-quality defensive augments (Zoltan shields, titanium systems casing and Rock armour plating): TAKE THOSE HITS LIKE A TRUE SLAB OF SENTIENT MINERALS!
- A 3% chance of taking no damage whatsoever on hit: 15% no systems damage * 15% no hull damage = 2.25% total resistance!
- One (1) high quality weapon from sector 1: Chain Vulcan (Batteries/Reactor slots not included)
- One (1) long distance repair tool: You'll need it
- Four (4) hulls for the price of one! (Disclaimer: All salvaged enemy ships): 6hp Zoltan fighter [Frontal weapon mount * 2] + 6hp Zoltan bomber [Engine-Rear Weapon mount + Engine-Energy shield generator] + 11hp Rock Assault [Command Module] + 9hp Rock fighter [Artillery and secondary reactor housing] = 32 hp! (You will also need this)
- Compartmentalisation: They'll never take your handily separated secure backup reactor (Because you can't get to it either)
- Upgraded Artillery weapons system: Because this is technically a Federation cruiser (War does wonders for your austerity initiative and your budget) AND a spare reactor to power it with!
- Drone control: The budget DIY version on sale from most stores for scrap (See: budget)
- Improved shield capacity: Multiple zoltans in shield room can provide multiple levels of ion-proof shields! (Offer constrained by crew availability)
- World-class monochrome colour scheme
- No cloaking whatsoever. There isn't a cloaking field projector in the entire galaxy that can somehow hide an amalgamation of four ships merged into a single cruiser.
- Tiny main reactor. Much like the BELOVED Cerenkov, there are secondary reactors for a reason.
- Vents only at the stern, where the Command Module merges with the Rear combined Engine-Weapon module and the Rear combined Engine-Energy Shield Generator module.
- Only one Medbay slot, because healing is for losers
- No doors or sensors, so the venting doesn't even work until you install more systems (And once you do you realise that you have to vacate the central Shield room to vent the bridge, doors, or Medbay.)
- No mind control. No room for the hardware. Hacking works fine, but only because it works by sending an energy pulse to an external unit.
- Teleporters (if purchased) are next to the only vents, meaning that you risk killing damaged returning boarders if you want to put out a fire without a Rock crew on board.
SHIP DOWNLOAD
Download yields one .FTL file for use with the Slipstream Mod Manager. Ship designed using the Superluminal 2 editor and way too much GIMP.
http://drive.google.com/uc?export=downl ... tr4FofWpIc
SHIP ORIGINS (Lore!)
Federation Delta Fleet Commander Tully (Officially known as the Home Reserve Commander, unofficially the Last Resort) reclines in her hovering commander's chair, feeling anything but relaxed. In front of her is a pin, something to add the collection of pins on her uniform. She pokes at it with unwilling fingers and a heavy heart. The moment before she touches it, she tenses slightly, as if to brace herself. Silence. In the background, the dull hum of life support continues, unabated, unfeeling. Jane Tully picks up the insignia of the First Admiral, and a message begins to play. It's General Turzil, bright red lens glowing with an uncharacteristic dullness.
"Initiate communication. Begin speech synthesis. Composition aided by First Admiral William Turing, target receptacle race humanoid." There is a pause, then the general speaks with more humanity than she has ever heard it speak before.
"Greetings, Reserve Home Fleet Commander Jane Tully. If you are receiving this message, then the worst has come to pass. The admiralty, which is as I speak departing for counter-offensive operation "Second Dawn" in sector Vrachos-XI, will have been decimated, and with them the main body of the Federation fleet. Since I am departing with the aforementioned Admiralty, I will likely be unreachable if not terminated, whichis the reason I am composing this message. The possibility that we will be destroyed, which is not insignificant and larger than I would prefer to entertain given the priors at play, must nevertheless be entertained, and thus prepared for. Therefore, effective immediately, you are promoted to First Admiral of the Federation, with full executive control under my authority, until I achieve contact or return. The reserve fleet under your command is to be placed into active service immediately. You are authorised to perform any action as you see fit, up to and including reorganising all Federation forces and instituting Federation-wide martial law, for the purposes of preserving the Federation. If that is not possible, then your orders are to engage the main body of the rebel fleet at every opportunity in the hopes of delaying the fleet sufficiently that vanguard counter-occupation protocols may be executed. The future of the Federation is in your hands." There is another pause.
"Speech synthesis complete. Express state: Concern. Express state: Expectation, sub-state: Hope. Terminate communication."
The message concludes, and the hologram projecting from the badge winks out of existence. Thirty years ago, when she had still been a rookie squad commander in the Mantis campaign, she would have given anything to be First Admiral. Now she only felt despair. There is a knock. It's her second-in-command.
"Commander- Admiral...?" There is an inquiring note in his voice, having just spotted the pin. It doesn't matter. In a few minutes, the news will be officially announced, and then all hell will break loose. She can already see the feed headlines. "Reserve fleet commander made admiral in desperate move, Federation in shambles"
"Fleet under inexperienced humanoid command, sign of weakness"
"Indication of complete fleet decimation"
"Likely end of the Federation"
"Last Admiral appointed"
"Are we doomed?"
"Hopeless"
She can't let it end like this. She won't be the last.
"Admiral?" She realises that she has been distant, steels herself, returns to reality. "Yes, lieutenant commander Ajax?"
"There are two officers here to see you. A Zoltan and a Rockman, actually."
"Really?" She tries to not let her weariness show through. "Send them in."
-----
"Commander." The Zoltan spoke first.
"Actually, it's admiral, but I'll let it pass this time."
"Admiral. First Officer Lumis reporting, Department of Energy, Reactor Research Division."
"Custodian of Enemy Craft Vuron reporting. Department of War. Enemy Property Analysis Chamber." The Rockman's voice was a low rumble, forceful but quiet.
"Just what I needed, R&D." If it was possible to roll her eyes, Admiral Tully would have done so. Alas, even in her present state, she realised that that was probably not in keeping with her (newly elevated) position, and so settled for an irritated sigh.
"What do you want?"
The Zoltan eagerly took the lead. "I think we've figured out why we're losing the war, Admiral."
Almost immediately, the Zoltan realised that that was exactly the wrong thing to say. He took a step back immediately, his energy field dimming by several lumens, but it was too late. Tully's eyes clouded over, first in bitter mirth, then fury.
"Do you think I haven't been told, over and over again, every time I try to do anything productive, by literally every ****ing newsfeed host, random officer with a rank higher than captain, and semi-sentient analysis program why we're- sorry, as of approximately three minutes ago, why I, PERSONALLY, AM LOSING THE WAR?"
For a moment, even the rockman seemed to show apprehension. Then the anger died down, and she lost the energy to continue, slumping down in her chair. "Go on then. What is it this time? Not enough funding to your department? Mishandling of taxes? Not ordering our ships to surrender? Too little PR?" At the last item, she gave a derisive snort. "Can you believe that's actually what they're going with? Not enough PR?"
"Well, uh, I, uh, actually, Vuron here, was looking through the ship hull designs for the enemy craft, and he's found a few, uh, ah, peculiarities." Unsuccessfully nudging Vurom forward, Lumis tried to draw attention away from himself. "Why don't you talk about that, eh, Vurom?"
Vurom, for his part, seemed largely nonchalant. "Enemy craft design weak. Hull thin. No vital systems. Vastly inferior to Federation craft. Overstaffed with untrained, understaffed crew. In short, suicide craft."
That, at least, Tully was well aware of. "I've been leading a defensive fleet for three years, Custodian. I know the ship to kill ratios. The fact that it takes ten of their little fighters to even put a dent in one of ours does not escape me. Your point?"
"Why war is being lost?" Still the nonchalance, yet a more aggressive tone. There was something personal at stake for the rockman. A family member?
"Well, for one, we haven't been pumping as many ships out as they are, and for another, we've been largely short of pilots-"
"Allow me to interject." It seemed as though Lumis' suicidal overconfidence had returned, and the Zoltan was already shining brighter than he had a few sentences before. "At the start of the war, who owned the shipyards?"
Tully buried her face in her hands. "We did."
"Who owned the fleet academies?"
"We did! Are you trying to rub it in or something, FIRST OFFICER LUMIS?" Another brief flare of anger, even emptier than the last. She waved her hand faintly, not bothering to look up. "Continue."
"By all accounts, we should have crushed them within the first year of the uprising in Serenity Theta Nova. What happened?"
This was starting to turn into some sort of twisted history exam, something that the Admiral did not like but felt compelled to answer, lest the word go round the officer's mess that the new Admiral was "unable to face the past". Once she was done with this ignominious exercise, she decided, someone was in for a stern-talking to, possibly a demotion.
"They attacked after our pilots and resources had been depleted in the Federation-Mantis war. The first battery of pilots were only halfway through the training program. They attacked us by surprise- amassing themselves by the thousands with tiny, ill-equipped mining and transport craft. They swamped us. In the end, we had to send in barely-trained pilots with ill-equipped, brand new ships. The losses were enormous."
The rockman gave a faint nod. "My brother."
"Why do that? Why send them in poorly-equipped ships with expensive life support systems and thick hulls?"
"What was the alternative? Mount a laser turret on a transport and tell them to think of the Federation?"
The Zoltan's glow was increasing to an almost uncomfortable brightness, standing as he was right in front of the table separating him and the Admiral. "It worked for the enemy."
"You know, for someone who's supposedly a Zoltan you are surprisingly callous about the value of Federation lives. We did what we did to give them the biggest chance of survival, because it's the right thing to do." She turned to the rockman. "Surely you wouldn't have wanted your brother to die in a cramped, helpless box with only a basic laser and a cooked shield from an ion blast."
Vurom's face remained impassive, but darkened a little. The effect was quite disconcerting. "He died nonetheless. Kestrel was a more expensive coffin than transport." Another pause, then Lumis gave his retort.
"Indeed, our race is dedicated to peace and the preservation of life. And there are some within our ranks who would have you believe that our ships travel entirely unaided by weaponry, hiding behind their shields until they can jump away. But we are not all fools. Energy shield bypass devices exist. Burst lasers, ion weaponry, and missiles can knock down an energy shield in seconds. If we did not defend ourselves, we would be long extinct. Pragmatism is the first law of survival. And sending recruits to die in expensive military vessels in such numbers that the Kestrel has become synonymous with a death sentence and forced to retire through no design flaw of its own is not pragmatic."
This was getting nowhere. "What would you have me do? Give up on our expensive training programmes, grab handfuls of conscripts and tell them to die for the Federation? Hire mercenary companies, and hope that we are not tarnished in the mouths of politicians for dirtying our hands?"
For a time Tully almost felt that she had them convinced. She was wrong. Vurom had merely been collecting his words.
"Should have conscripted or hired mercenaries at start of war, rather than posturing. Now, shipyards occupied, economy broken. No production capability. Only remaining ships are old Kestrels, whatever the races can donate. Poorly armed, lightly staffed. Number of cruisers dropping, by the stonefall. Time for pragmatism in the past. Now, time for miracles."
"And what miracles would you have me provide?" This was not going well.
"We know about the superweapon, Admiral. When my department received a request to develop high-powered capacitors beyond those needed for any normal weapon, I figured something was up. It only took a few drinks to get one of the engineers to spill their guts."
"Then you also know that our only prototype model was lost in the Battle of Shipyard Nostradamus. In fact, the secret objective of Second Dawn was to capture the prototype cruiser. And since you already know so much, I don't mind telling you this. That promotion I got? It's for First Admiral."
Lumis' crackling ceased, seeming to shrink as his aura dimmed rapidly. "You mean... The admiralty..."
"Dead. Missing in action. Doesn't matter. The point is, we don't have a viable ship that can hold the beam without a giant vulnerable explosive piece of equipment sticking out of the hull beyond the reach of its shield generator. And now we can't even make one." Now they knew, and surely were going to leave, to let her ruminate in the terrible, terrible burden she had just been given. Surely?
But the two of them merely looked at each other, foreign receptacles meeting, then turned back to the admiral. "Then you'll need this."
The Zoltan retrieves a data tablet favoured by their race, run through a constant stream of biological energy stored in its fuel cells by touch. Rubbing a plasma appendage down the side, they passed the tablet to Tully.
"What is this?" Statistics. Data. Circuit diagrams. Magnetic coupler designs. Requisitions for equipment. See diagram 2b, amalgamated hull schematics.
"A ship. A Federation cruiser, to be exact."
Were they deaf, or wilfully ignorant? "I've already told you, Nostradamus was our last shipyard-"
The interjection came in the form of a firm murmur. "No building. Only modification."
"You mean someone else already built this? How-" Tully had finally reached the diagram section. The first graph showed a captured Rock fighter, complete with level of damage sustained and repair instructions. This was worse than sending pilots out on retrofitted transports- even leaving aside the impact on morale, these ships had been captured, heavily damaged and largely disabled beyond repair. "You plan on piloting captured enemy ships? The level of damage-"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. And we won't be piloting that. That's going to serve as our housing."
"I don't understand."
"The problem with our superweapon is that it cannot be installed on a regular ship and allow said ship to support a regular crew, yes?"
"Correct- we'd need a ship almost the length of the Rebel cruisers to house that superweapon and any normal level of crew."
"What if we just emptied out a ship? A small ship, to be sure, but we could definitely fit it all inside. Not that I have any statistics, or anything, Admiral." A beam of energy snakes across the table, highlighting a section of carefully labelled "hypotheticals". Tully sighed, vowing to install better anti-hacking security if she was still alive after the war. She turned back to the situation at hand.
"These numbers are strangely specific, for hypotheticals. But if I tried everyone who violates Federation violations I'd have this entire base emptied in three seconds. Let's say I allow you to take a ship, and you find, say, a portable reactor to install. Now you have a barely contained, uninhabitable, unsteerable superweapon. What do you propose? Do we launch it at the rebels so they can win the war faster?"
"Of course not!" Another surge, revealing a cache of charts, graphs, a more complex diagram.
"These are..."
"Parts of enemy ships. If we combine them, we can leverage a weapon from each Zoltan fighter, an engine and a Zoltan shield generator from a Zoltan bomber engine unit, retrofit an extra weapon mount on the second engine unit. We combine that with a Rock Assault craft to shield the superweapon, relatively intact, and you get a cruiser! Of a sort." If energy beings could shrug, Lumis would have. At the same time, however, Tully could see that the two of them were deadly serious. There was though put into the design, the combination of ships, the use of Rock armour plating and systems casings, careful schematics for installation of a cheap drone system to cut costs...
"This is insane. And coming from a Rock and a Zoltan! You two should hate each other. Instead, you come up with a truly terrifying plan that, at best, would be utterly useless, since we can't even manufacture ship-tier reactors anymore. All we have are some spare transport reactors-"
"No matter. Zoltan crew. Compensate."
"You would have to be crazy to fly this ship. It's not going to be dodging any shots, that's for sure. Or cloaking, for that matter. To get it anywhere near combat-ready would be a nightmare, and there's nothing we can do without a shipyard. That brand new chain vulcan you mysteriously know we have? The only reason it's still here is because no ship can even use it."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Admiral. Without this ship, the Federation is doomed."
"Give me a minute to consider this."
-----
The newly-minted First (and only) Admiral Tully, in command of the only remaining Federation fleet and in control of but thirty core sectors out of one hundred and seven, took a deep breath. She had been privy to the Rebel advance statistics even before Second Dawn, something Turvil had no doubt intended for her to "discover". There was no way the mechanical lifeform, given its capacity for logic and probabilities, could ever believe that Second Dawn was anything other than what it was - A last ditch ploy to buy time. And if she continued in her mission, what would be the result? A slow death, accompanied by a final hurrah. The much-vaunted vanguard protocols were merely orders to organise resistance cells, certainly nothing that could take down a cruiser. As she looked at the two lifeforms before her, their races bitter enemies yet working together, she was reminded once more of what the Federation stood for, what the Rebels would burn down. She was humanoid, to be certain, and likely not to fare too badly under the fist of their Commander, but them? They, and all the other aliens, would be hunted to extinction. That was how the rebellion got started, after all- one last blow against equality and peace.
She would not be the last.
Standing in front of their admiral, Lumis and Vurom would sense, but not see, something shift behind the human's strange, biological eyes. Though they did not know it,when the human leaned forward again, it was with a hidden determination, something inscrutable except, perhaps, to other humans, but felt by all, a change in the atmosphere. Despair melted away, replaced by grim determination. The humans flicks their digits, summoning a map of the sector. The Zoltan perceives the electrical patterns used to generate the map, the Rockman the trace ions emitting from the screen, bombarded by electrons. The three see the same thing, a small circle marked Federation Controlled, their position beyond the outer edge, marked Federation Home Reserve Command base, and a larger dot at the centre, Federation Central Command base. The area they were located in, a large ring marked "Contested Area", contains a few more points, including the Nostradamus shipyard, glowing red. Beyond that was Rebel Territory, flashing red with a few spots of resistance. With a few more twitches, a series of paths are plotted, pointing from the very edge of the contested front towards the centre, marked "Rebel Forward Assault Fleet", dodging around Home Reserve command. From behind, a circle, gradually constricting, dodging nothing, absorbing all. The Rebel Fleet, no caveats, no limitations.
"You have your wish. Since I've been made First Admiral, I will be departing for the Federation Central Command base immediately, bringing most of the fleet with me. In the mean time, I will be giving the order to scrap all captured craft for materials- do what you must, tell who you think will help, but keep it secret. The rebels are approaching the Federation homeworlds from all directions with great haste to prevent us from organising a defense, but with any luck the portion of the Reserve fleet I leave here will protect Home Reserve Command for a few more months, enough that they will rule this target as unimportant and head directly for the centre, giving you the time to finish your ship. Their haste to reach the Federation base will mean that their frontal attack and consolidation of each sector will be incomplete, relying on small patrols and drones to guard vital FTL beacons.
"This will not hold, however, since their main fleet, much more powerful but vastly slower, will be mopping up behind them, methodically taking over each sector with no hurry, completely controlling every beacon and transport point. I'll try to hold off the advance forces for as long as I can, but the rumour is going around that there's a flagship fleet being built in Nostradamus, and we need you to arrive before our defences collapse entirely. Here is an order explaining that you are carrying secret data for my ears only, which you should hand to the communications officer so that whatever Federation forces are left don't try to blow you out of the sky.
"Once your ship is ready, head directly for Central Command- I'm expecting the individual sector defences to hold out for maybe a month at most, no more. With any luck, you might take out the flagship before the main body of the fleet arrives, which would allow us time and resources to at least retake Nostradamus. Ignore the war. Head straight for the flagship. If this works, you will save the Federation. If not, I won't be around to be yelled at, at least."
A final pause, as the Admiral realises the enormity of the mission she now places on these two officer's shoulders. This is war, however, and she is on the losing side.
"Good luck. You'll need it."