By the 25th century, people had built the Oikoumene – a network of wealthy and secure star systems connected by interstellar Gates. Everything shines there: continent-sized megacities, corporate towers stretching toward orbit, flawless trade routes, stable jobs, and people who genuinely believe space has already been tamed.
When humanity first learned how to travel between the stars, everyone thought a new golden age had begun. Gates were built, colonies spread across nearby systems, and corporations started making money by the ton. The Core Worlds quickly became a polished showcase of human civilization – safe, rich, and for some people, unbearably boring.
Eventually, humanity outgrew the boundaries of civilized space. There are always people who want more than a stable paycheck and a life spent under corporate supervision. Some came looking for fortune. Some wanted to discover new systems. Others just wanted to disappear somewhere far away from old problems.
So humanity pushed farther into the dark — into regions where routes still aren’t marked on any map, and where contact with the Oikoumene can vanish for months. If you’re lucky enough.
That’s how the Frontier was born. First came the expeditions. Then miners. Then smugglers, mercenaries, and every kind of drifter are usually drawn to the smell of fast money. The corporations arrived soon after. And wherever corporations go, wars, dirty deals, and people willing to sell out entire planets for a percentage of a contract are never far behind.
Today, the Frontier is a sprawling mess of colonies, stations, and half-dead trade routes hanging on at the edge of known space. You can make a fortune here in a week – or disappear without a trace just as quickly.
On some stations, nobody even asks your name as long as you’ve got credits in your pocket and your weapon isn’t pointed at another mercenary. Though even that depends on the station. And the worst thing about the Frontier isn’t the pirates. Or the creatures living on wild planets. It’s the secrets.
Sometimes scouts discover abandoned stations that don’t exist in any Oikoumene registry. Sometimes they bring back artifacts that leave half the expedition suffering from hallucinations. And sometimes people simply vanish, leaving behind empty ships with fully operational systems and airlocks sealed from the inside.
Findings like these are worth enormous amounts of money. That’s why the Frontier never runs out of volunteers willing to fly into another hole at the edge of the sector for what’s advertised as a “simple contract.”
The problem is – there are no simple contracts out here. Especially when you end up in possession of a sentient crystal symbiote suddenly hunted by corporations, pirates, cults, and a few other groups you’re better off not asking questions about.
That’s usually how very bad stories begin. Or the kind that turns an entire sector upside down.
Don’t forget to wishlist “Frontier: Path of Shadows” and join the open playtest. Out on the Frontier, everyone leaves a mark behind.