Alien: The Roleplaying Game

Most of your friends will never see another world… but not you. As soon as you were old enough, you signed up for the USCMC. The pay is crap and the food is worse, but you’ve always got a bunk to sleep in and you get to shoot all sorts of weapons at all sorts of things. Life in the Corps is never dull—but the luster has begun to fade. You’ve seen things that you’ll never be able to forget, and plenty you wish you could.

The Frontier can be a lawless place. The Colonial Marines are spread thin - they have neither the time nor inclination to mete out local justice. Not to worry - there's a new sheriff in town, and that's you. Most law enforcement officers on the Frontier are firmly planted deep in the back pocket of one company or another - but not you. You don't take bribes and you never look the other way. You've made a lot of enemies on both sides of the law, but your colony has the lowest crime rate in the system. It's only a matter of time before you piss off the wrong CEO and corporate sends someone to take care of you, but that's okay. You'll be ready.

You're hungry. Space is full of opportunity, and you've been assigned to the Frontier to find the next big thing. From insider information to new mineral deposits - or even a hitherto unknown life-form to exploit- it's up to you to score a win for the company and use it to catapult yourself up the corporate ladder. You tend not to form long-lasting attachments, instead viewing everybody as a commodity to capitalize on. Worry about others later. Right now it's all about the bottom line.

You didn't ask for a Frontier life - your parents brought you into this world kicking and screaming. Grown-ups always ask you what you want to be when you grow up, but all you want to do is be a kid. You used to fantasize about being an adult, able to stay up late and eat junk food whenever you want. Thing is, most of the Frontier adults you know are always miserable and tired. There isn't much to do where you live, so you make your own fun. There's time to grow up later. For now, playing hide-and-seek in the ventilation system seems the way to go.

There are a million-and-one ways to die in space, from exposure to vacuum or unknown contagions to vicious organisms or getting accidentally shot by a drunken roughneck. In all these scenarios, you're the one carrying the bandages and adrenaline shots. When someone suffers trauma, it's the first few minutes that matter most. If someone survives long enough to make it to a medpod, you've done your job. You used to be altruistic about Frontier medicine, but you've seen enough to become jaded. Too many people in the Outer Veil are addicted to painkillers, and most colonies are not up to health and safety regulations. That means more people get hurt. Your work is never done..

When everything is going to shit - the Company's holding your crew's pay hostage, there's a mountain of reports to file from that last incident near Thedus, and who knows how many family members back home are weighing on everyone's minds-it's a good thing you spent all those years training to do this for a living. You're the authority figure, the role model, the voice of your superiors, and the enlisted crew's advocate. You're also the butt of all of their jokes around the mess hall... until it all gets so much worse, and they're looking to you for what to do next. Better hope your training has a solution to this one.

The stars are the limit, and they are limitless. You aren't content to keep your feet on the ground, and on the Frontier, there's no need to. From starfighters to dropships, freighters to frigates, there's always something that needs flying- and some aerospace-stunt that only you can pull off. You aren't in this for the money, although it doesn't hurt. You're a thrill-seeker and an adrenaline junkie. Danger is the rush you live for, but stay frosty. Otherwise, the next time you find yourself dodging through an asteroid belt or seeing the ground rush up to meet you might be your last.

Someone has to do the manual labor on the Frontier, and that someone is you. Life has dealt you some harsh blows but you've always struck back. You've been in countless barroom brawls, you swear a lot, and belch at the dinner table. In short, people find you uncouth. You really don't care- you've grown past the need for niceties. No one works harder than you. You are up before first dawn and finish your workday long after second twilight. You are the cog that keeps the Frontier chugging. Your hands are calloused and your face is dirty, and the only thing harder than the work you do is the way you party.

Every day, new pieces to the puzzle of existence are found on the Frontier. Figuring out what makes them fit together could leap humanity over nature's next hurdle, and you are one thesis away from the respect you deserve. Some find you cold and detached; they don't understand that your passion is knowledge. Whether your field is xenobiology, astrophysics, robotics, or even archaeology, there are countless treasures in space, just waiting for someone to trip over the next asteroid and run right into them. Whether or not that's you, you're still the one who understands them better than anyone.