out side the earth

The Galactic Council: The United Galactic Federation (Lilo & Stitch)

King: The Galactic Council

The Galactic Council is a sprawling legislative body composed of dignitaries from a thousand worlds. Androids, reptilians, mammalians, mollusks, all known forms of sentient life can be found represented in the raucous throngs of representatives aboard the GalFed’s enormous flagship. Such as it is, corralling such an immensely large governing body is no mean feat, and thankfully, a number of influential voices have emerged from the faceless crowd to propose consensus and mediate between disparate interests.

The Grand Councilwoman is the de facto head of state for the Galactic Federation. Although her powers are limited and her position largely ceremonial, her shrewd diplomacy and austere presence holds sway over the entirety of the Galactic Council. Whenever councilmen butt heads, all heads immediately turn to the matronly Grand Councilwoman to resolve the dispute. The Councilwoman acts as the face of the Federation in all foreign affairs, meeting with leaders from rival polities and drafting treaties, trade agreements, and accords with the approval of the Council. If ever a party does anything on a scale large enough to earn the GalFed’s attention, it can be assured they will be met by the Councilwoman soon enough.

Minister of Defense Gantu is much less adept at negotiation than the Grand Councilwoman. He is, however, a very very large man with a very very large gun, and so his fellow officials tend to agree with him anyway. As commanding officer of the GalFed’s military division, the hawkish Gantu has no patience for the bickering of the Council, and fears that with enemies surrounding the fragile alliance on all sides, their indecision may spell the end of the Federation as they know it. If ever the Council passes legislature that Gantu viewed as an excessive impediment to the war effort, the GalFed could very well face a military coup.

Although the Bureau of Planetary Conservation was once considered a laughably obscure office of the GalFed, recent affairs involving primitive worlds such as Earth have brought it into the spotlight of galactic affairs. Minister Pleakley, though lacking the presence of Gantu or the charisma of the Grand Councilwoman, has managed to exert influence over GalFed policy regarding the treatment of indigenous life forms, in part thanks to a particular brand of exuberant enthusiasm for his field of research. With more and more of the Federation’s limited resources diverted by the eccentric Plorgnarian towards ecological preservation efforts, he has made himself a powerful enemy in Minister Gantu and earned the ire of militarists among the Council.

Land: The United Galactic Federation

The Galactic Federation is widely known as “The Sick Man of the Galaxy”, and not without good reason. Though the once-proud alliance still retains the trappings of the dignity it once commanded, not even its borders are respected by the newer entities that have cropped up in defiance of its claim to sole galactic authority. Hostile craft come and go as they please within their borders, and much of the sectors they claim jurisdiction in are actually hotly contested warzones over which they have only limited control. Between incursions from their enemies and local insurrections by former member races departing the ailing Federation like rats off a sinking ship, they continue to lose territory just as fast than their strained military can recapture it. All it would take to crumble the anemic Galactic Federation would be a single decisive defeat at the right point.

With the threats outside their borders absorbing much of the attention of their armed forces, internal criminal elements have grown bolder flaunting the Federation’s laws. Illegal genetic research thrives in the wake of the criminal genius Jumba Jookiba’s breakthroughs in the creation of artificial organisms, spawning a new breed of criminal armed with gene mods to make themselves faster, smarter, stronger, and more deadly than ever before. Roving gangs terrorize solar systems, taking as they please and ruthlessly exploiting helpless primitives the Federation has failed to establish adequate protections for. Some rumours speak of an army of twisted creatures --living weapons-- gathered in silence by a former colleague of Jookiba’s, who plots to lie in wait until the time is right to rise up and seize what remains of the once proud federation for his own personal empire.

Rule: Nobody Gets Left Behind

With its eons of history, the Galactic Federation is steeped in an eternity's worth of legislature. Bylaws on top of bylaws make even civilian transport between nearby worlds an excursion through mountains of paperwork. Some joke that if ever the military failed to hold the line, the armies of bureaucrats employed by the GalFed would be more than enough to bury the enemy in bodies. The Galactic Federation’s insistence on maintaining a presence on every single world under its control has stretched it to its limits and made it no shortage of homegrown enemies who reject their intrusive meddling in planetary affairs. Regardless, the patronizing Galactic Council continues to see itself as sole caretakers of all that lies within their borders, insisting that they know what’s best for the federation even as it burns to the ground around them.

Evil Emperor Zurg: Sector Z (Origin: Buzz Lightyear of Star Command)

King: Evil Emperor Zurg

Cunning, devious, diabolical, and proud of it too, Zurg is feared throughout the Galaxy as the destruction of hope and the hand of doom for all before him. Zurg is proud of his contributions to the art of villainy, and cultivates a flamboyant and unforgettable presence as to be memorable in all his action, large or small. No evil deed is too petty or insignificant for Zurg, and he prides himself on stealing candy from children or scaring cats up trees with the same passionate glee in which he engages in total galactic conquest.

Zurg is the ultimate egotist, and, not keen on single-handedly ruling the entire galaxy, has also seen fit to put all subjects (with the exception of certain minions kept close to his chest) under the effects of his most powerful weapon; The Unimind. This ancient device, first used to psychically link a race of aliens known as the LGM, has the ability to instil elements of Zurg's personality to replace the native minds of any creature it is used on (though the original remains locked away in the subconscious, occasionally breaking through to the surface). It is a deadly and utterly terrifying weapon that hangs over the heads of all free-minded survivors of the empire, as well as a symbol of the sheer behind the self-proclaimed Emperor of Evil's personality.

Land: Sector Z

All planets in Zurg's mighty empire have been modeled after his home planet of Planet Z; smog choked, bleak, and crowded with poison spewing factories churning out endless units for Zurg's robot army. Citizens of the Empire who have been indoctrinated into the Unimind serve Zurg proudly; eschewing his perverted sense of flipped morality in which true Evil is the ultimate achievement. For the teeming masses of the Z Sector, there is no greater form of pleasure than constructing new machines of war for Zurg's endless conquest, and all free time is dedicated either to praising Zurg or taking part in festivals of cruel gladiatorial games, mass public executions, and military parades.

Those who remain unaffected by the Unimind are either considered to be "Evil Enough" already by the Emperor's standards; such as his mysterious enforcer and right hand man Agent Z and the numerous crooks, thugs, and bounty hunters who call the sector home when not plying their trade, or are else in hiding underground forming the last scraps of resistance, including a few survivors of the mass purge of loyalist Star Command staff.

Rule: EVIL RULES!!!!

Zurg considers himself to be an artist of dastardly deeds and as such possess a degree of professional respect for fellow perpetrators of wrong. Fellow career villains such as Lord Dominator (and to a lesser extent, Hater) are allowed to receive his personal audience and are considered by him to be, while not equals, certainly worth consideration. Simple crooks like Silver are thought by Zurg to be far too unambitious, and those who carry out their work with dull coldness are bores and killjoys who simply don't understand the true joys of villainy.

Any players attempting to effectively operate within Zurg's borders must make at least a cursory show of villainy, or else be arrested for the crime of Do-gooding and placed under the effects of the Unimind. Those who wish to enter the core of the empire around Planet Z or communicate with the Emperor must first impress him with their qualifications and past villainous deeds before even being considered worth his notice.

Supreme Leader: The Dominion of Waste (Captain EO)

King: The Supreme Leader

In a dark and empty corner of space, the Queen of Trash languishes amidst the waste of a thousand worlds. Once she was a talented mechanic living among-st the scavengers of an unnamed landfill world, until accusations of witchcraft and superstitious fear of her mastery over technology lead to a brutal lynching which left her crippled and traumatized. The broken woman constructed for herself a web-like support rig, and vowed not only on those who had harmed her, but the entire galaxy, beginning an elaborate that would soon spread across the stars.

The Supreme Leader, as she styles herself, is motivated only by an uncompromising need for vengeance. She sees her plan for the galaxy as a fitting punishment for the hubris of the beautiful, “normal” people who disdain the imperfect and relegated her people to a life amongst their refuse. She considers most of those beyond her sphere to be fickle, vain, cowardly, and habitually dishonest. As self-conscious as she is about her appearance and background, Any and all comments, no matter how innocent, can and will be taken by her as cruel snubs or mockery (which has resulted in numerous diplomatic ‘incidents’ wherein brown nosing diplomats were executed on the spot). She does, however, possess something of a weakness for sob stories, treating much more fairly with vagabonds and outcasts such as Silver’s pirates (though she considers the Silver himself a bully and a braggart). While she is physically incapacitated and paralyzed from the waist down, she still cuts an intimidating figure in her imposing support rig, which she has modified over the years to appear spider-like and bristling with cruel spikes and blades and spewing a thick, smog for purposes of intimidation.

Land: The Dominion of Waste

In line with the Supreme Leader’s twisted fantasy, all worlds within the sphere of the Dominion of Waste are modified to resemble the Trash Queen’s home planet. Once vibrant ecosystems are choked with mountains of trash, and lush forests are paved over into dull and maze-like labyrinths of concrete and steel. There is no trace of color, light, or music to brighten the days of her subjects, for these are forbidden by punishment of excruciating . Streets are patrolled by roving bands of royal guard; handpicked for their mindless obedience and equipped with surprisingly effective weaponry and armour built from little more than scrap metal and wires. Because of the toxic environment the Supreme Leader intentionally cultivates, all her subjects are required by law to be fitted with a set of synthetic filtered lungs at birth which, by a nasty coincidence, come with the equally mandated emotional-inhibitor: a lifelong brain implant which suppresses the productions of hormones related to positive feelings. Resultant from this is the illegal and extremely dangerous trend of ‘tweaking’, or temporarily short circuiting the chip to allow a brief high of pent-up endorphins. Given the implant is located in the most and important organ in the body and connected to the lungs as well, this often ends in hemorrhaging and extremely painful .

The common subject has learned to keep a low profile, and between their required hours working in the Queen’s forges or hunting for useful scrap to pay their weekly tithe they have mastered the ability to move undetected by the Queen’s guard amongst the heaps of scrap, making the Dominion’s planets appear completely uninhabited to off-world visitors. The Supreme Leader has expertly created the perfect dystopia; a model for the singularly least livable society possible while maintaining the needed production to continue expanding her borders. Her subjects’ attitudes have come to match their oppressive surroundings, and little love or common kindness can proliferate amongst the wastes. What does manage to shine through is quickly beaten to with prejudice.

Rule: Turn You Into Trash Cans!

The Trash Queen has absolutely no intention of stopping her war on the known universe. Any and all foreign craft entering her territory is quickly blown to smithereens or else to land and boarded by planetside troops. Then blown to smithereens. The interlopers inside (if they manage to survive) are then subjected to the of being imprisoned in rigid metal skeletons, their bodies warped to serve as crude PUSH waste-disposal drones

Attempts at diplomatic contact are excluded to the borders of the empire, where exploration drones swarm as the Trash Queen’s countless eyes on the outside world. The Supreme Leader treats with outsiders reluctantly, but does understand that her Dominion yet lacks the strength to take on the entire galaxy on its own. treaties are frequently made and broken with the Pirate Confederacy and the Galactic Federation, and over the years, the Supreme Leader has become adept at playing the two rival polities against each other to her own benefit.

Evron Eleventh to the Fifth: The Evronian Empire (PK New Adventures)

King: Evron Eleventh^5

Since time immemorial, a shadow has loomed over the milky way; a great and terrible horde whose name has become synonymous with fear in the languages of those caught beneath their thundering might. For over a hundred thousand years, the Evronian Empire has waged unending war, leaving nothing in their wake but lifeless planets and mindless cool-flamed zombies. Due to the Evronians universal opposition from all polities of the Galactic Community and their own internal power struggles, the Evronian Empire has suffered frequent collapse over the course of its lifetime, but each and every time the might of Evron has risen again, testament to the stubborn resilience of the Evronians--perhaps their only admirable quality.

The current Fifth Dynasty of the Evronian Empire is lead by his Imperial Majesty Evron the Eleventh, AKA Evron Eleventh^5. The Evronian Emperor traditionally rules with a light touch, encouraging his subordinates to compete for his favor (and to avoid his wrath). The Evronian Empire is split between multiple “branches”, each of which is ordained with a specific duty to fulfill, the three primary examples being the Naval, Military, and Science branches. Each Branch additionally behaves as its own political organ, with coups and backstabbing within and between branches a regular and accepted part of Evronian politics. Despite the seeming inefficiency of this squabbling, this ruthless business has lead to only the best of the best rising to power within the Evronian Empire, which today sports the best and brightest admirals, scientists, and generals in the entire galaxy.

Land: The Evronian Empire

The unique biology of the Evronian race has greatly shaped their empire’s growth. Rather than searching the stars for sources of metal, fuel, water, and arable soil, the Evronians are instead on a constant hunt for an entirely different resource: emotions. Evronians feed off of the emotions of other sentient life in addition to using emotional energy to power their advanced technology. Rather than maintaining a stock of cattle to breed for fuel and food, however, the Evronians prefer a more…. exhaustive approach. Evronian fleets scout for planets rich with emotion, making peaceful contact with the natives and promising a bright future of cooperation as they sharpen the knives behind their backs. Once the Evronians have planted their agents and neutralized any means of resistance, the Evronian Navy proceeds to blockade the planet while the army storms its surface in a blitzkrieg of unstoppable momentum until the planet is barren of any remnants of native civilization and seeded with Evroni birthing pods to hatch a brand new army of conquest to replace casualties tenfold. Complementing their highly mobile battle strategy, the Evronians have converted their home planet of Evron into an enormous mothership, which they carry along with them as their empire expands as a great symbol of Evronian might and a mobile high command. Although the Evronians continue to make great gains, pushing further and further inwards to the very heart of the Milky Way, they conceal a great weakness behind this fearsome front. What appears to the denizens of our galaxy to be expansion is in actuality equal parts retreat, as the Evronian Empire continues to lose more and more ground to a mysterious being of pure destructive energy clawing at their backs. This entity, known only as Xadhoom, has become a legendary bogeyman amongst the Evronians, and remains one of the only creatures in the entire universe to have taught the Evroni the fear they inspire in others.

Rule: Might and Power!

Evronians value strength above all else, including their own lives. Any defeat is a serious blow to Evronian pride, and victorious enemies will find themselves made a target of utmost priority--for the Evronian propaganda machine cannot abide such discrepancies. Time and time again, crushing Evronian victories have reinforced this notion of superiority, and modern Evronians see other species as little more than vessels of delectable emotional energy.

Xenophobia is inbuilt into the Evronian identity, and any non-Evronian or Evronian exhibiting deviant behaviour caught within the Empire’s borders is either immediately exterminated, or drained of emotional energy and “coolflamed”: a particularly disturbing process which renders the victim a mindless zombie turned against their former friends and family in the Evronian equivalent of a joke. To add to it, the Science Branch maintains a strongly influential eugenics program intended to breed out “weakness” and introduce better and stronger breeds of Evronian soldiers. Over time, this has converted the majority of the Evroni population into obedient drones biologically incapable of feeling emotion, although higher castes are permitted a degree of independent thought and personality, as slavish obedience does not lend itself to competent commanding officers.

Long John Silver: The Pirate Confederacy (Treasure Planet)

King: Long John Silver

Once, a long, long time ago, an expeditionary voyage was launched by the Royal Navy to recover the long lost treasure of the Space Pirate Captain Flint using an ancient holo-map discovered by a young juvenile delinquent. Halfway through the journey, however, the crew of the vessel mutinied and took the ship for themselves, lead by a Cyborg with a single eye. This man was none other than John Silver; the most cut-throat, cunning, and vicious space pirate in the known universe.

Silver was not always the brutal warlord he is today; during that fated voyage, it is said that he formed a rare bond of friendship, almost paternal love, with the young man who had discovered the map to the treasure. But during the treasure's recovery, a booby trap was triggered, forcing Silver to choose between the treasure and the life of his young friend. Greed, in the end, won out, and the old pirate abandoned his young friend to an unknown fate as the planet collapsed around him. As the Confederacy's campaigns ploughed a bloody swath through the galaxy, Silver time and time again led the charge, fighting on the front lines in a dervish of spinning blades and cybernetic limbs. As his battle scars racked up from ceaseless fighting, metal took the place of flesh bit by bit until the pirate’s body was little more than a gleaming shell containing what few of his original organs remain. Fitting, perhaps, as Silver himself is a hollow, empty man. He has found that chasing ambition only digs the hole inside him deeper and deeper, and although he continues to be a roaring lion full of pride and bluster to his men, Silver is a weary soul beneath the lies and machismo; continuing his passionless crusades only out of habit. Perhaps someday he can find something to fill the hole other than plunder and .

Land: The Pirate Confederacy

Using the hoard he recovered from Captain Flint’s treasure, Silver brought together the most feared pirates in the sector to form what would become the Pirate Confederacy.

Together, using a fleet of fearsome battleships bought with Flint’s gold, they carved out a sizable territory for themselves, smashing the remains of ordered government and replacing them with anarchy and unconditional acceptance of the Silver’s rule through pirate governors. Planets within the Confederacy’s sphere of influence are, for the most part, left alone, save for the occasional raid by Silver’s agents for sport and profit. Planets of especial interest, such as the factory worlds close to the heart of the Confederacy, suffer a much tighter leash, and have been into becoming vassals, paying an ever increasing tribute of weapons, ships, and precious metals to their pirate masters for fear of punishment through raids and orbital bombardment.

The Confederacy’s fringes: highly contested former territories of other galactic polities, suffer the most under the Confederacy’s rule, with little to no restriction set on raiding and plundering activities and near daily fighting as forces of either side battle for control. Natives of the frontier, grown used to war, display an unnerving callousness to and flagrant waste of life.

Rule: Beware…. The Cyborg...

Visitors to the Confederacy are welcome to travel freely, trading and refueling as they see fit, provided they adhere to the laws set by Silver and his governors and pay their dues to the local pirates. Attempts to resist or otherwise stir up trouble result in a bounty to the head and a convergence of armed assailants all eager to snap up the rewards. In more cases, when Silver himself feels he has been slighted or cheated, a Pirate Fleet will be massed from all corners of the Confederacy to hunt down and the offenders. Although this is rarely done (as Silver’s cronies often stubbornly resist his call to arms), the result has universally been one of the most terrifyingly effective and mobile navies in the galaxy, Silver himself at the wheel.

In addition to actions by the loose governorship of the confederacy, its citizens have, by necessity, adopted the cutthroat culture of pirates. Little to no moral restriction on activities exist in Pirate controlled lands, with brothels, gambling dens, and general depravity spreading like wildfire. Petty crime is rife in the cities, and mercenary and bandit activity lay waste to the countrysides. A show of weakness is perhaps the most deadly mistake one can make within the Pirate Confederacy, as any sign of “going soft” is taken as an opportunity to be fleeced, mugged, or killed without much of a fight.

Lord Dominator: The Forces of Domination (Wander Over Yonder)

King: Lord Dominator

A legend feared throughout the galaxy.. ancient empires tremble at her coming.. her name unquestionably graces the top of the Galactic Villain Leader-boards as a permanent mainstay.. Lord Dominator is truly a without match, travelling from system to system and draining all life from every planet she passes with the end goal of complete universal destruction, simply for her own amusement. Despite her impressive accomplishments so far, Dominator is a relative newcomer to the galaxy, having arrived suddenly and without heralding from parts unknown and quickly brought the sector’s local villains under her heel, imprisoning them all inside her fleet’s flagship to serve as occasional entertainment. Only a certain skeletal dictator continues to resist her iron grip, which remains a thorn in her side and a sore spot for her villainous pride.

Dominator takes an almost perverse glee in her own cruelty, acting much like a teenaged fangirl when confronted with the most vile of acts and the most destructive of weaponry. She abhors contact with any and all other life, preferring to surround herself only with mindless subservient drones whom she seems to regard with some degree of affection, provided of course they do not step out of line.

Land: The Forces of Domination

While many deign to rule the galaxy, Dominator has no interest in acquiring territory, and instead operates out of a nomadic fleet of drones headed by her imposing Volcanium flagship.

Wherever the Forces of Domination go, a cold and empty void of crushed, dead worlds are left in their wake; husks left over from refueling the fleet’s supply of Volcanium X, which is harvested by drilling into the very core of a planet (heedless of any life inhabiting it) and bluntly ripping it out, along with great chunks of the planet itself. Refugees who’ve lived to tell the tale describe scarring scenes of men, women, and children scrambling to flee from an ever growing sea of cracks as the ground under their feet crumbles into a burning wasteland of ash and magma.

Rule: I’m The Bad Guy

Perhaps even more than Zurg or Hater, Dominator takes immense satisfaction in her own villainy, and will happily correct any misguided attempts to find a deeper root of her destructive behaviour.

Simply put; she’s a bad guy (or, well, girl).

Those who enter the space currently occupied by Dominator are ensured a swift and brutal demise, especially if they bore her. Direct challenges can and do impress her enough to warrant a personal appearance, but only if she feels the opposing on display worth her time. Anything as pathetic as, say, Hater, can be just as easily dealt with by bots. Very rarely, Dominator will take a much needed night in disguise out to one of the planets she plans to later destroy for an evening of drinking, brawling, and all-out mayhem. Should players meet her during one of these retreats, she will prove far more willing to work with and even assist the party, given her villainous reputation is protected by anonymity.

Lord Hater: Lord Hater’s Super-Mega-Awesome Hatepire (Wander Over Yonder)

King - Lord Hater

Lord Hater is, for all intents and purposes, a terrible villain. He is a petty, easily distractible, irrational, insecure and altogether insufferable pile of bones and spite. And yet somehow, where countless other, more worthy villains have been crushed under the heel of Lord Dominator, he clings on (making him by technicality, the Second Greatest Villain in the Galaxy; a fact he continues to boast about). Hater has even managed to expand his tiny empire from the scraps left behind by Dominator's great buffet on the Galaxy's evildoers, clinging on with fierce dedication to every precious planet under his rule with the combined might of his own admittedly impressive powers and his endless stream of expendable Watchdogs.

Despite her brutality in preventing Hater from expanding and her occasional incursions into his borders, Lord Hater fosters a mindless affection for Lord Dominator bordering on an obsession. On a near daily basis, Hater sends ranting messages to her proclaiming his own superior qualities and stammered attempts to court the rival tyrant, to her great amusement and annoyance. Because of this, it is assumed by most of the galactic community that Hater is kept around as a sort of jester in Dominator's court of enslaved ex-villains, as to cling to autonomy in the face of Dominator's overwhelming would take a competence far beyond that of Lord Hater's.

Land: Lord Hater's Super-Mega-Awesome Hatepire

Lord Hater rules with a tin fist over his small domain, imposing an asinine set of "Hater's Laws" over every planet in his grasp. These rules are mostly petty, including stringent bills enforcing his subject's favourite bands, television shows, and books as Hater's own tasteless works. These laws are rarely enforced by Hater's subordinates provided he is off-planet, mostly out of sheer laziness.

Each planet is staffed with a crack team of "Watchdogs"; a race of monocular aliens sworn to Hater's service. Their numbers are vast, and individual Watchdogs, despite their diminutive size, are impressively durable. Despite this, the Watchdogs have proven time and time again to be unreliable henchmen, sharing their master's bumbling ineptness. Still, they are loyal beyond compare and will never willingly leave the side of Lord Hater.

Rule: The Greatest in the Galaxy

Hater is, above all else, proud. Any attempt to subvert his rule or operate within his borders without his permission will be seen as a direct insult to his person (which he does not take well), resulting in him responding himself, making a grandiose entrance.

He prefers blunt openness, and attempts to talk one's way around him will be often met with explosive and devastating tantrums. Flattery will, however, get you very, very far with him.

Hater's self-confidence is shaky, bouncing between depressive lows and mega-maniacal highs depending on the time between his latest rejection from Dominator. His unsteadiness can be used as a powerful weapon against him as even with all his great strength, Lord Hater can be turned into a complete and utter wreck with enough blows to the ego.

Hans Reinhardt: The Ghost Fleets of the Black Hole (The Black Hole)

King: Doctor Hans Reinhardt

Dr. Reinhardt was once a brilliant astrophysicist stationed on the Research Ship Cygnus on the outskirts of a Black Hole in order to study the phenomena. Reinhardt became increasingly obsessed with his studies, and eventually, when his crew mutinied due to his insistence that they remain near the Black Hole despite the inherent dangers and dwindling supplies, he systematically lobotomized and transformed them into his cybernetic slaves. Eventually, following heavy damage to the ship due to hostile encounters with an exploration vessel and a direct hit during a meteor storm, the Cygnus was destabilized and sucked into the Black Hole, taking Reinhardt with it.

When Reinhardt emerged, ship remarkably intact, his mind had been warped and twisted from whatever horrors he saw within the Black Hole. He now behaves more like a machine than a man, despite his (mostly) organic body, and his obsession with the Black Hole has grown into an almost fanatical devotion to it as a deity. He considers the Black Hole an almighty arbiter of justice which decides the fates of all creatures, dooming the unworthy such as himself to an eternity of suffering. He believes that it has chosen him personally to spread its influence through devotion and sacrifice so that it may wash away the evils of the universe like the floods of the old testament, and will allow nothing and none to stop him in his crazed mission. Whether a product of his deluded brain or not, the Doctor claims that the Black Hole whispers dark secrets day and night to him. He has an uncanny knowledge about almost all major goings on in the galaxy and those who meet the man in person find him unnervingly knowledgeable about their innermost workings, allowing him to easily crack even the toughest resolves. In fact, despite the imposing and heavily armed iron lung constructed from his former robot assistant, Reinhardt prefers to eliminate threats through conversation, putting to use a cold and emotionless logic to break the wills of his foes before disposing of them; ensuring both body and mind are broken.

Land: The Ghost Fleets of the Black Hole

Reinhardt’s territory encompasses the region of space at the edge of the galaxy’s largest Black Hole, and is constantly shifting to match the slow expansion of the tear in space and time.

Reinhardt’s armada of captured ghost ships ignores planetary bodies for the most part, only occasionally dispatching an excavation craft to gather needed minerals from asteroids and moons. The void between worlds, however, is a no-man’s land for any unaligned spacecraft, which are attacked with the utmost efficiency, leaving inhabited worlds to stagnate and suffer as all interstellar trade is brought to a sudden halt. The only foreign vessels that are spared this fate are those carrying members of one of the numerous “Black Hole Cults” that have sprung up across this dead region of space. Reinhardt finds them amusing at best and insulting for their false appreciation for the Hole’s beauty at worst, but seeing as these sects have a tendency to willingly sacrifice themselves and their unfortunate captives to the swirling maw at the heart of the galaxy, the Ghost Fleets have little need to act against them.

As the Black Hole’s reach advances, strange phenomena and otherworldly events have been recorded those nearest its borders. Ghostly apparitions, great plagues and floods, the sudden and inexplicable alteration of the natural laws of physics, and psychological distress and behavioural abnormality. One by one, planets in its sphere cease outgoing communication after disturbing reports of societies torn apart and peaceful civilizations consuming themselves in an orgy of unrestrained bloodlust.

Rule: Into The Black Hole

Because Reinhardt’s current focus is on expanding his fleet, his forces take great care not to needlessly waste enemy vessels, preferring to board and eliminate the crew so that the ship can be salvaged as another addition to the armada. Any prisoners are transformed into mindless soldier-drones to be deployed in future boarding actions in a perpetuating cycle. However, especially populated or combat unworthy craft will instead suffer a different fate. Swarms of ghost-ships will harass and herd the unfortunate vessel deeper and deeper into the Empire’s midst until it is sucked into the swirling depths of the Black Hole as though it were a crude sacrifice to some ancient god.

Very rarely, Reinhardt himself will take an interest in an interloper and will instead draw them into the reach of his looming flagship, The Cygnus, to greet them as his guests before their inevitable demise. Reinhardt justifies this in his mind by labeling these guests as threats needing personal supervision, but in truth, the company of unthinking drones has left the man to listen to a voice besides his own and the ever present murmurs of the swirling depths.

Lord Dragaunus: Dimensional Limbo (The Mighty Ducks)

King: Lord Dragaunus

Lord Dragaunus is a Saurian Overlord--the last of his kind. This race of tyrant lizards once reigned supreme over the galaxy until their advanced cloaking tech was pierced by the powerful scanners created by the legendary hero Drake DuCaine of Puckworld. With the battlefield leveled, their empire crumbled and the Saurians were imprisoned by Drake for all eternity in Dimensional Limbo… or so he thought. Centuries later, the cunning Lord Dragaunus discovered a means of returning to the known universe and descended on Puckworld to avenge his ancestors. With their old score settled, Dragaunus and his ad visors are prepared to use whatever means are necessary to regain their race's former glory. Sorcery, science, sabotage -- nothing is off the table for this resourceful overlord. In any confrontation, Dragaunus always has a bargaining chip prepared to his opponents' hands. He is ruthlessly adept at manipulation, turning enemies into assets and recruiting traitors and moles to ruin wreak havoc on rival factions. Lord Dragaunus can get his own hands dirty by fighting with an infallible invisibility field, overwhelming augmented strength, and a devastating wrist-mounted blaster, with no expense being spared to ensure that no fight against him is a fair one.

Land: Dimensional Limbo

The remnants of the Saurian Empire have transformed their prison into a base and capital. Within the bizarre, twisting folds between dimensions, the Saurian fleet lurks in wait like a crocodile just below the water's surface. Only Saurian wormhole generators are precise enough to open gateways to Dimensional Limbo, so a craft would need to steal a generator or tail close behind a Saurian ship as it makes the jump home in order to reach it. In addition to their extradimensional home, the Saurians have also established colonies on strategically located worlds as the first outposts of the revived Saurian Empire. The planets recolonized by Dragaunus are bleak and miserable. Long chains of slaves march to and from his strip mines and refineries, toiling away to provide Balerium crystals for the Saurian fleet. These slaves are kept violently in check by the Battlesaurs, primitive cousins of the Saurians who worship Dragaunus and his cronies as gods through "divine revelations” broadcasted to them from Dimensional Limbo. Battlesaur culture exalts combat above all else, making them excellent shock troops when Saurian forces descend upon a planet. To hone their skills in combat, Battlesaurs regularly compete in gruesome bloodsports against their strongest slaves. Rare is the gladiator who makes it out of the arena in one piece against a Battlesaur.

Rule: You’ll Never Know What Hit You

Though the bulk of his forces are parked beyond our dimension, Lord Dragaunus’ raiding parties can deploy at any time, any where, acting as a constant headache to other factions due to their habit of swarming and wresting control of unguarded assets before vanishing like ghosts. Trade ships are regularly picked off by Saurian corsairs, disrupting planetary economies and sparking disastrous shortages. The only effective tactic against Dragaunus’ raiders is to drag them into a prolonged battle, but this is easier said than done when facing a foe that will vanish into thin air moment they lose the advantage. Lord Dragaunus' recolonization efforts have been impaired by the expanse of the Black Hole, which has consumed many former Saurian planets in their absence. However, Puckworld, home-world of the infamous DuCaine, remains intact on the fringes of the Black Hole’s shadow. Conquering Puckworld and enslaving its avian inhabits has brought Lord Dragaunus no small pleasure, especially since doing so has allowed him to seize Drake DuCaine’s golden mask. As long the mask and its anti-stealth technology is safe in Dragaunus' scaly talons, Saurian stealth will remain undefeatable as the ancient empire once more poises to spread across the stars.

Skeleton King: Netherspace (Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!)

King: Skeleton King

From the distant stars came an undead lord of terrible power. He was once the Alchemist, a wise scholar who studied both magic and science in his efforts to improve life on his home planet. His soul was corrupted irreparably when his experiments aroused the interests of the Dark Ones--the offspring of an ancient god destined to one day awaken and bring to the universe. They wormed their way into his mind, twisted him, and transformed him into the being now known as Skeleton King, a wicked warlock who wages war on all life in the universe as the chosen avatar of the Dark Ones. Equal parts wizard, warlord, and cyborg, Skeleton King will stop at nothing to free the Dark Ones from the countless planets their dormant forms slumber within. He holds no love in his heart, save for a love of cruelty. From the Pit of Doom, he can draw forth black ooze and sculpt it into any monster his twisted mind can imagine. Further spreading his dark will are the Skeletal Circle, an evil cult that worships Skeleton King and the Dark Ones in exchange for power. His flagship, the Citadel of Bone, travels through the cosmos, shattering worlds and unleashing the evils within them.

Land: Netherspace

Netherspace is a constantly-expanding region of space radiating outwards from the Zone of Wasted Years. Asteroid fields litter Netherspace, the remnants of planets that resisted Skeleton King or otherwise drew his ire. Commercial space traffic is practically nonexistent, leaving the cold void as silent as the grave. Peoples subjugate to Skeleton King exist in oppressive squalor, laboring like beasts of burden while the Skeletal Circle lords over them. Contrary of the bleak, grey, and dreary conditions endured by those who live in Netherspace, the region is saturated in magic, often resulting in spontaneous destructive eruptions where concentrated volatile energies stretch the fabric of reality too thin. The only resistance against Skeleton King are, ironically, a group of intergalactic defenders called the Hyperforce whom he himself founded when he was still human. Though planets protected by the Hyperforce are few in number and make easy pickings for any intergalactic despot that wants to claim them, the Hyperforce remain a stubborn thorn in Skeleton King’s side and a painful reminder of his lost humanity.

Rule: Wherever There is Fear, You'll Find Me

Skeleton King has devoted the whole of his existence to freeing the Dark Ones and bringing about an end to all life in the universe. He is at total war with all other factions, giving no quarter or accepting it in return. As a pawn in a cosmic game of good versus evil, Skeleton King focuses first on removing any pieces still held by what little good remains in the galaxy, and then on exterminating pathetic 'lesser evils' such as Zurg and Dominator in order to advance his agenda further. To bolster the forces of darkness, Skeleton King summons forth monsters from the Pit of Doom to swarm his foes until they fall against the ceaseless hordes. Against more persistent foes, he fashions tailor made nightmares from the stuff of their own nightmares in order to play to their deepest, darkest fears, sometimes even calling upon the energies of the Dark Ones in order to corrupt the allies of his opponents into turning on them. Were his body to be destroyed, the Skeletal Circle has forbidden rituals to ensure that he returns for .

Chairman L.C. Clench: X-S Tech (ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter)

King: L.C. Clench

As head of the galaxy’s biggest tech conglomerate, Chairman L.C. Clench is a very important man. True, he may not command the iron-fisted aura of galactic dictators, or even what little bureaucratic legitimacy the GalFed clings to, but he doesn’t need it. As the saying goes, money makes the universe go round, and nobody’s got more to burn than Clench. Starting from humble roots as the manager of a small manufacturing plant, Clench soon found he has a knack for business, especially cutting costs and corners without being caught. In no time at all, he had secured himself as Chairman of the interstellar corporation that would become X-S. As head of the Company, Clench has considerably boosted profit margins by wheeling and dealing behind the scenes with various kings, schmoozing them up to agree to contracts with hidden traps and clauses to keep them in his pocket, then throwing his considerable economic weight around to get his way once they realize they’ve been had. To avoid attempts from competitors or burned clients, Clench has ensured that the intricate trade network X-S plays lynchpin to will collapse if he’s ever unexpectedly retired, leaving behind a galaxy-wide economic disaster as previously unnoticed dependencies suddenly become all too obvious. In this way, Clench has made himself the single most valuable VIP in the galaxy, and has many times halted a war in progress simply by his presence--neither side willing to risk accidently killing him.

Clench is not only a consummate businessman, but a dedicated showman, constantly stretching to develop new and boldly innovative ways to push his company forwards. The annual X-S exhibitions at trade fairs around the galaxy draw billions of visitors, all clamoring to see how X-S will top last year and blow their competition out of the water. Never one to give up the spotlight, Clench makes appearances at as many of these demonstrations as physically possible, his sure-footed charisma keeping crowds riveted to the stage. Unfortunately, Clench’s own ambition tends to get the better of him. His constant demands for bigger and bigger spectacles from an already overworked staff has a tendency to result in mishaps and disastrous failures at the expense of the audience. Of course, these incidents never amount to any lasting public outrage. Owning significant shares in the majority of galactic media producers helps considerably with PR.

Land: X-S Tech

X-S today is a major supplier of tech galaxy-wide, producing complex heavy machinery such as cold fusion reactors, advanced AIs, weaponry of all sorts. Its veritable monopoly over a number of industries makes keeping a good relation with the company a prime concern for Kings not yet 100% self-sufficient. Aside from its heavy manufacturing, X-S also has a heavy influence over the civilian market thanks to its dominant role in consumer products. Nearly all household robots are based on X-S’s S.I.R. model. The live feed from the eyes of these androids gives the monolithic corporation nearly unlimited powers of surveillance over its customers, though it assures that all data collected will be kept private and used strictly to improve the consumer experience.

Physically, X-S’s presence in the galaxy is felt only lightly Aside from its scattered manufacturing outposts, orbiting regional headquarters, and a few company towns established near valuable veins of rare metals, X-S keeps itself scarce outside of a few core systems. Far more impactful, however, is the network of teleportation up-links it has established as part of its foray into interstellar transit. X-S teleportation tubes are miracles of modern engineering, able to instantly transport people and goods across light-years of space. It is primarily because of their control of the teleportation network that X-S has become so influential in galactic affairs, controlling the critical transportation infrastructure that keeps many isolated worlds afloat. The threat of cutting off a planet's teleport from the grid is more than enough to bully governments into looking the other way from the company's unscrupulous business practices. If it comes to it, X-S can always fall back on staging an unfortunate “accident” for any crusading anti-corp politicians who step into their tubes.

Rule: If It Can't Be Done With X-S, It Shouldn’t Be Done At All

Never content to sit on top of the heap, X-S is driven under Clench's leadership to push boundaries and expand profit margins by any means necessary. Part of it may be his addiction to risking it all; Clench thrives most in the tense environment of a hostile boardroom. Clench may also just be, like so many other multimillionaires, be trying to shovel money into a void it just can't fill; endlessly dissatisfied with the cold shallowness of exorbitant wealth no matter how much of it he has. At the core though, the company he has created had simply grown to be far larger than he has any hope of corralling, reliant on an endless and ultimately unsustainable pattern of constant growth.

This squeeze for profit is felt especially hard in regions X-S has invested significantly in. Whole inhabited planets are strip-mined of resources by the insatiable company, often with the go-head of political leaders either duped or bribed into buying X-S's promises of prosperity and job creation. In other cases, X-S will infiltrate a planet's economy more subtly, slowly increasing their market share until the whole planet is entirely dependent on X-S goods and all of its production centers have been bought out. Primitives, thanks to their naivety and lack of standing to represent themselves in Galactic Court, are especially valued as marks by the company. If a primitive world rich in resources is discovered, X-S will waste no time rolling up to dazzle them with their advanced technology before persuading them to sign away their world's mineral rights. Under the guise of philanthropy, X-S have dedicated significant resources to the exploration of the outer rims to seek these hapless planets out.