Council of Seven Information Services (C.o.S.I.S.) – R

The Corporation sells itself as a utopian society, but there are those among its citizens that disagree. For these free-thinkers, anarchists and dissidents there will always be the welcoming arms of the Rebellion. Following a crushing loss against Corporation forces thirty years ago, the Rebs have been slowly rebuilding their numbers, taking on recruits from alien races who share their grievances with the Council. They use hijacked corpcast scanners and planted agents to plan raids on vulnerable installations, slowly building their stocks of munitions and technology. Amid the chaos of a Deadzone it would be easy to ransack enough to fund an entire campaign, but the Rebs know that the Corporation don’t call for containment protocol lightly. Only their most dedicated soldiers are willing to take the risk, knowing that their lives could well be forfeit in the name of rebellion.

The Corporation is not well liked.

Within its borders the Corporation projects its image as one of benign overlord, raising backward cultures into the fold of a vast family of equals. Whatever their origins, everyone has a chance to win big if only they work hard and follow the immutable rules of commerce.

Those that live on the fringes of Corporation space have seen a darker side to all this. Massive exploitation of natural resources and uncaring heavy-handedness that brushes aside any that bar the way of profit are more common traits of the Corporation when it comes to those that have no influence in the halls of power. Here, far away from the civilised hub, the Corporation rules with an iron fist and a cynical sneer. At least, that is the view of the many who oppose them and who band together in the loose confederation known simply as Rebs.

The free-thinkers, anarchists and dissidents of the Corporation will always find a home with the Rebellion. They do not stand alone, either; the galaxy is large and full of life, and most races have reasons to hold a grudge against the GCPS. Coordinating their efforts from hidden bases deep in unoccupied space, Rebs raid isolated outposts to build stocks of munitions and technology, hoping one day to have the strength to stand up wholesale against the oppressive rule of the Council of Seven.

The Corporation has more than its share of enemies both within its borders and further afield. The Rebellion opens its arms to dissidents, free-thinkers and radicals from all races, hoping to one day overthrow the GCPS and bring freedom to the galaxy. Following a crushing loss against Corporation forces thirty years ago, the Rebs have been slowly rebuilding their numbers, using hijacked CorpCast scanners and planted agents to plan raids on vulnerable installations. Only their most dedicated soldiers are willing to risk entering a Deadzone, knowing that their lives could well be forfeit in the name of independence.

The Rebs are made up of many races, creeds ad cultures, allied only in their hatred of the Corporation. If that were ever to fall then they would surely fall on each other, but luckily for the coherence of the movement the Corporation will not be toppled easily if at all. Still, that doesn't mean they won’t try.

Some join the Rebs as individuals or small groups, seeking recompense for the harsh way they have been dealt with. The Corporation interests scour planets of resources with scant regard for the lives or cultures that inhabited them before the survey teams arrived. Sacred lands and future livelihoods matter not at all when the verdant topsoil hides mineral resources below.

Although the Corporations are superficially welcoming to aliens, their only real aim is to exploit their knowledge and technology. While many races allow this, not seeing an alternative, there are others that join the Rebellion and fight against this oppression. Even pacifists such as the Judwan have skills to bring to the resistance, while lesser races such as the Zees act as battlefield scouts and scavengers.

The primitive Kraaw, daubed in their warpaint, fell foul of the Corporation miners. With their sacred lakes despoiled or drained they fell on the Human interlopers only to be driven off with massed gunfire. They learned quickly, and when the Rebs heard of their resistance they quickly moved to harness their fighting spirit and unique physical abilities to their cause.

Teratons have suffered too, as have Yndij, Chulep, Sorak, Rin nomads and countless Humans from all manner of cultures. All band together to fight a common foe, bringing whatever they can to the uneven fight, knowing that they stand little chance of a final victory but doing simply what they know is right.

The Rebellion opens its arms to dissidents, free-thinkers and radicals from all races, hoping to one day overthrow the GCPS and bring freedom to the galaxy. Forcibly evicted from their homeworlds a century ago, Grogan are often looked down on as brainless thugs, but their thick-set frame belies a knack for technology which is gladly welcomed by the Rebellion. The Teraton Empire exists as a shadow of its former self thanks to shrewd wrangling by the Corporations, and the younger members of the race gladly pledge their strength and prodigious combat skill to the Rebs’ cause.

Leading a group as diverse as the Rebs takes guts, character and wholehearted hatred of the GCPS. Thankfully, they say the Council makes a new enemy every three seconds, so the Rebellion has no shortage of candidates for leadership. Maybe they lost everything they cared about to a system-wide merger; maybe they were leaders in the Corporation Military who refused an order they disagreed with. In any case, their dedication to overthrowing the Corporation is absolute.

Grogans are often looked down on by “civilised” society as brainless thugs. However, their straightforward demeanour and thick-set frame belies a keen mind and a knack for technology. Many of them have found their way to the ranks of the Rebellion, where they often act as both heavy-support troopers and engineers.

The Kraaw have been clear opponents of the Corporation ever since the first exploratory fleet entered their space and was destroyed by swarms of fighter craft. They are fiercely territorial and little is known about them beyond their reputation as vicious predators, but occasionally small groups will approach the Rebellion and offer their services. On the battlefield they strike unexpectedly, bringing death to their hated enemies with Stingcasters and Talon Blades alike.

When the first elements of Mining Fleet 411 landed on Azure IX they came across the Yndij, a race of hunters living in the planet’s great jungles. They refused to leave, and would have been wiped out if not for a chance attack by the Rebellion. The invading forces were driven away, but not before the jungles were devastated. Now, the Yndij have taken a permanent place in the Rebellion, hoping to stop the same thing happening to others.

Swapping their homeworlds for the urban jungle, Yndij Hunters are agile troops for the Rebs and increasingly a mainstay unit of any Rebs attack.



Zees act as battlefield scouts and scavengers.

Gripping his weapon, his finger itching on the trigger, N32 breathed heavily, his back pressed against some low-lying rubble.

The Enforcer Pathfinder shifted slightly, reaching for his belt and unstrapping a metallic sphere from his belt. He tossed it in the air, a red glow bursting from the Drone's eye, and he opened the vidscreen. It lived.

He had eyes everywhere and still he couldn’t see where the beast had gone.

He’d been on the trail of the Prime Vector for days, even managing to unleash a salvo from his needle-gun into the colossal beast. And still it had kept going, luring N32 into the ruins of Nicorasi and it’s waiting brood.

Now he was cornered.

He knew the 3A’s were out there, he had heard their weapons fire, but it was the sight of the female that had concerned him – about as frightened as an Enforcer could get.

There.

He’d seen it, an oncoming pack – and the Female was with them!

The Pathfinder flicked open his Comms link, inputted the code and pulled himself off the ground...

Armed with a rapid-fire, neodurium-tipped Needle Gun and serrated blade. One of the first Enforcers to land on Nexus Psi, N32-19 has survived against the odds. He now acts as a scout for the better-equipped Enforcer teams on the planet, leading them towards the greatest Plague threats.

“Payback” is aptly named. Reek is a particularly large example of his race and lives only to inflict bone-crunching revenge on those that hurt his smaller cousins – and he’s very good at it!

Rico is a natural showman. He is handsome, suave, well educated, hugely rich, and the object of more paternity suits than any other DreadBall player in its history. Envied by men, loved by women, Rico has it all and he knows it.

They say that Rico van Dien's good looks are his secret weapon, and for once, “they” could be right! The superstar Striker recently signed a massive sponsorship deal with VitaCarb Sports Supplements(tm), who will be using his face to launch their new line of Shakes(tm) and Grounders(tm). With the deal set to rake in megacredits by the truckload, the DGB has issued a general ban against hitting van Dien above the chest or below the waist. The Detonators were the first to fall foul of this new ruling, with high-striking Jack Flunk Shortspittle copping a lifetime ban after tripping over Rico's foot last weekend.

Not all clones are made equal. As soon as Farbiketek engineers discovered model CXLI was defective, they spotted an opportunity to turn the malformed creature into a star in it's own right. Fitting him with a powered exo-suit led to Riller being excepted into the ranks of the Zees, and from there his infamy has grown. Of course, exo-suits are technically illegal in most forms of DreadBall, but every court-case levelled at Rilla has been unceremoniously thrown out. After all, anything a lawyer says must be true.

He’s not the biggest player but as Riller says, size doesn't matter when you play dirty! His inventive fouls and relentless self-promotion have made him a firm fan favourite.

The original DreadBall games were considered, by some, to be a showcase for the prowess of biological organisms. In a world so dominated by machines, it was a throwback to a simpler age – an almost prehistoric urge to fight or flee, and all in the context of a brilliant sporting spectacle. But the robots were bound to come.

Too many big corporations had vested interests in showing off their cybernetic prowess for the lobby to go away, and the first robot team took to the field in the early days of Shemtek SmackDown III. This team, the “Oilers”, caused enormous damage to the opposition and was banned part way through its second game. Digby was buried under lawsuits from the teams, the relatives of the slain players and their many fans. How could they let such objects take to the field? It was a while before the second robot team rolled out onto a neodurium pitch.

The “New Oilers” were different. Their ballistic ceramic casings were covered in gel pads so they caused fewer injuries, and their servos downrated to avoid punching entirely through a human torso in one blow. Robot teams play DreadBall with mechanical precision, each player acting as part of a well-oiled machine to execute carefully planned strategies. Also, the fans love their post-Strike victory dances! The crowds were mollified, then excited by this new turn, especially when the Oilers showed off their new twist.

The onboard CPU of a robot player houses a number of core self images, each corresponding to a specific DreadBall role. As the game progresses, the tactical analyser on the robot will constantly weigh the odds of events and the likely course of the game based on past matches, known player limitations and learned plays. This then balances the time lost in transforming against the benefits of changing role and if the reward is greater than the risk then it initiates a change. Of course, the crowd don't care about the details - they just love it when players transform!

DreadBall’s rules state very clearly that a player must play as a single position, but they never considered that someone could change from one to another within a match. The robots can. They troop out onto the pitch as Jacks, but at the whirr of a servo they can change to a Striker or a Guard, avoiding any infringement of the letter of the rules by only every being a single role at a time, but the spirit of the rules is ridden over roughshod. And the crowd loves it!

Citizen Jael burst through the security door, weaving side to side as debris and rubble crashed to the floor. Warning sirens blared in the background and Jael tripped over lose wiring, electric sparks fizzing as he scrambled to his feet.

“Halt, Citizen!” came a robotic voice from behind.

Jael has been in hiding ever since the armour clad super soldiers had arrived in the region, unleashing devastating salvos of laser cannon fire on the surrounding buildings sending them crashing to the ground in a bid to trap the mutant beasts inside. But that wasn’t the end of it - Jael was learning just what happened when the Enforcers quarantined an area.

After their transports had landed, scores of citizens had been killed at point blank range as the soldiers ensured that the Plague wouldn’t break out again...

Now Jael was being hunted and, as he rounded a corner, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Smashing his head on the floor as he fell backwards, a dark presence loomed over him, snarling.

The Marauder Raiders had landed in the ruins.