The murmur of the crowd swelled with raucous expectations. The tense round of voting was over, viewscreens alight throughout the audience, flickering with their own recorded reactions. An outpouring of responses hailed live from glitterworlds across the stars and washed over the data monitors' holo interfaces. The votes were being tallied.
"And now, at last, we are privileged to reveal the CHAMPION," boomed the host, an AI projection dancing across the stage, "...of RimLife Season 3!" The contestants were bathed in light on the stage as the crowd's excitement rose to a crescendo. Slimy looking men in the shadows gathered the last chips for the evening's bets. Beverage droids paced the aisles looking to serve. The VIP booths were brimming with overeager young money.
A pyrotechnics display erupted near the stage, lauding the grand prize of mystery cargo. There was a rumor that a Pandora box might be among the purse this year. Every season held this accolade of "Champion" in great esteem, though none knew what was truly on offer for the chosen winner. This was to draw in more and more curious viewers by design, but the prize had one very significant role to play yet. It was less a prize, and more a prologue.
One by one the final contestants were shrouded in darkness as their spotlights dimmed, eliminated, until only one remained. The floor quaked as the fan favorite was revealed to be the season winner. The crowd was electric! The gag was removed and the ties unbound, for the champion was allowed a response to the cacophony of support.
The face of the champion was that of confusion, bewilderment even. Not a word had been understood by this tribalist. They knew only of a harsh reality far from this fabricated fantasy, and nothing of any prize or fame. All the same, they were escorted to the front of the stage. The champion roared in frustration, which only ignited a wave of screams and howling from the fans who got exactly what they wanted. Someone on the front row even fainted.
Soldiers staffed every event to prevent "accidents" from the bloodthirsty contestants. One squad took point and moved into escort formation. The tribalist champion was rebound and shuffled into an oversized transport pod, primal eyes darting back and forth, looking for some sort of escape. The grand prize pool, including golden chests (and even the famed purple Pandora's Box), was tossed in slapdash after.
"NOW SHOW 'EM WHAT THEY'VE WON!" blared the host to great applause as the pod rifled off with its strange cargo towards a randomly chosen rimworld. It appeared on every viewscreen and holo on the glitterstation. Everyone aboard this luxury cruise had front row seats to the end of one season of the hottest holonet show and the start of the next.
"Welcome to a new season of Lootbox Champion!" trumpeted the man on stage. "Thanks to your outstanding microtransactional support and the recent galactic ban on adblock software, our contestant has been clad with not just their wits, but a host of potentially powerful mystery lootboxes," he said, before turning to a camera on the side of the stage and adding with a wink, "and a couple of unwitting camera crew droids!"
"Let the games begin!"
Your faction will be a New Tribe.
Start with 1 people, chosen from 1.
Arrive in drop pods.
Player starting characters start naked.
Incident created:
-Resource pod crash
Map is scattered with:
-Small common chest x4
-Large common chest x2
-Small golden chest x2
-Large golden chest
-Pandoras box
Start with:
-T2 Android Colonist x1
-T1 Android Colonist x1
