RocketBoy

Wooooah, this rules! Fantastic entry! The Sandhammer, the figs, and the scenery is all just spot-on. Also love the dig at stud shooters. Very fun and clever.

The dynamics and composition here are so great and dramatic. Great job.

Yeah, this rules. Good job making them all fit with a single aesthetic. And that load-lifter is great! Love the idea of Clan Eldar butting heads with local raiders. I can't imagine the raiders coming out the victors, in that scenario...

This is really great! I love the tiling and the action. We'd love to have you over at the Factions RPG subforum, if you're interested in joining a game.

Just an all-around solid build. The wall and floor texturing are so choice.

*Your entry has earned 10 XP (x2 for limited challenge)* The love of Swoop racing brought the people of Iridonia together like nothing else could. It was also when they were happiest with their despotic ruler, so there were a lot of races. And who knows what kind of espionage was happening behind the scenes? A race was a pretty good time to get things done without anyone noticing. What kind of tampering and untampering might have happened in the garages? What conversations in private boxes overheard? What important things disappear while the populace flock to the circuit? The tyrant Kesh started the race with a lordly wave of his hand. It would go on for hours. Not a bad window for some skullduggery . . . “AND WE'RE RIGHT IN THE THICK OF IT, FRIENDS! If you're tuning in or just emerged from a spice-laden coma, this is the exciting, high-flying, skin-ripping, pulse-pounding Kathadi Classic, and I'm your dazzling announcer: Jabric Kooms! We've got drama at turn 19! With Joddi Samor on his tail, Captain Pheonix is coming up behind Abalel and he's going for the pass, friends! It's the narrowest part of the track, and a hairpin turn; a dangerous time to try to get ahead! He's accelerating...he's coming up on Abalel's left...will they smash into each other? You might see some wreckage today, friends! He's creeping up...ooh, I can't watch. But I will anyway! So narrow! So close! So likely to turn into a dramatic fireball! But...but...ooh my! I can't believe it, he's done it! The noble and mysterious Captain Pheonix has broken into 4th place, sending Abalel back to 5th! What a risk! What a payoff! What a move!” The Racers

*Your entry has earned 14 XP (x2 for limited challenge)* Iridonia, the gateway to the Outer Rim. The red sphere was a dry, harsh world, the home to the hardy Zabrak. The Zabrak had a centuries-long tradition of hyperspace trade, rivalries with the Duros, and a shareholder’s slice of the pie when it came to making decisions about hyperspace tariffs. Their homeworld’s placement provided leverage, leverage that the current regime was glad to exploit. The House of Kesh had ruled Iridonia for decades. Lord Kesh had proven himself a violent, unstable, vain tyrant who murdered outsiders and made his own people slaves. The rest of the galaxy might have ignored this, but Kesh also made a habit of choking the Coruscant-Dantooine hyperlanes. Hitting people’s bottom lines was a good way to draw their attention. For over a month, a growing team of CFS diplomats had been hunkered down on Iridonia to try to negotiate a deal with its government, working to arrive at some sort of agreement, both among themselves and the Iridonian leadership. Everyone in the room had different priorities: some represented the CFS Merchant Core and just wanted to relax tariffs, others had the plight of the people in mind. Some wanted to take Kesh before a trial, deal with things peacefully. Others at the table would rather see him dead. A sandstorm of intrigue surrounded the diplomats since the moment they arrived. Spies hung on every corner and doorway: CFS spies and Iridonian spies, and spies working for individual diplomats, advancing causes unbeknownst to their colleagues. While the gears of diplomacy grinded on, some had initiated more direct action. Forgun Bohani had been the third diplomat to arrive in the Iridonian court. He was a clever old man, always watching and listening, who found himself on the side of a peaceful transition of power. He had listened to the bickering in the court long enough to decide a fresh voice was needed. He knew exactly who to summon: a young diplomat who had negotiated terms at Kril’Dor after the Pyerce insurrection, a rising star named Lan Honn. Honn seemed intelligent, studious, and honorable, precisely what was needed here. Bohani sent a message asking for the young man's help, offering himself as a sponsor. The Noble Lan Honn encounters the rascal Dak Sirah Background Extras Build Photos Thanks to the CFS community, and the wider SWFactions community for all the feedback. Thanks for your time!

Thanks everybody!

This one rules, it has such a great street race vibe. The arch is magnificent and those bikes are awesome, and your story made me laugh. Love that we're leaning into the zany.

Do you think I'd get a fairer score on the build itself if I took it out of the contest? I'm willing to do that. Obviously the bulk of the work went into the build itself, so I don't want to gip myself out of being rewarded for that because the swoops are (comparatively) just background content.

I absolutely love all the details, the extras, the whole atmosphere. It gives me that early-2000s Star Wars game/Fast and Furious feel I want from a Swoop race. Really incredible vibe work, Bjorn. I dont think I've made anything yet that wasnt fragile. I know the stress lol.

Love the mini-bikes and the whole concept. Poor, dumb Rodian.

Both bikes are so distinct, I love them equally. That terrain is great too, I like the greebles and posts and whatnot.

The terrain and story set the scene well. I feel swept away. And that second bike especially rules. I love the 50s inspiration.

Love the bikes. The terrain and the dirt spray is fantastic. Nice use of those Exo-Force robot parts.

The story is great! I love that whole vibe. The clouds are beautiful and both speeders are looking nice. The bright green engine fire looks a little whacky, might look better in blue or orange? If I have anything to quibble about, it's your photography. It doesn't always do your builds justice. Maybe look into running your picture through one of those editing programs (there are even a few sites) that can auto-fix your white balance? I think that and tweaking your contrast could make your stuff pop a little more. (Ignore all this if it's a stylistic choice, just thought I'd say.) Anyway, always love seeing some quirky, peaceful builds.

The trails are such a standout. That's a great effect, it works really well. It's almost like this build had to be the size it is, there's a lot of effort and complication going on that doesn't necessarily announce itself. The crowbar/riding crop is a good look. Good for hitting people too.

*Your entry has earned 3 XP* Click to witness Part 1 of the Perilous Adventure! Elsewhere, on the planet Imynusoph's vast savannas, Imperial-Officer-turned-big-game-hunter Jebel Corbett travels with his manservant Slyfoot in search of glorious prey. The aristocratic and selfish Corbett turns aside to his companion, a smile playing under his comparatively-small mustache. "I've become so very good, don't you think Slyfoot? If only those rebels could see me now. A man of virtue! Honor!" "I'm afraid I dont understand, sir." "My habits! Entirely reformed, aren't they, Slyfoot? And in hindsight, I'm forced to admit it's for the better. I really was a ghastly sort of tyrant. Killing people and whatnot. I'm surprised to say that even the memory I can stomach no longer. A weak stomach for dispatching dissidents? Me? Ha! How things change, eh Slyfoot?" "Indeed, sir. You've adapted quite well to your circumstances. And the...available pool of targets." "I have, haven't I? And to my betterment! Being good is it's own reward, naturally, but it has its perks, too. Side effects, if you will." "Like less blaster fire, sir?" "Exactly, Slyfoot! Good lord, you stole it right out from under me. Indeed! You're spot on. The wildlife never shoots back! A most welcome benefit. Yes, turning over a new leaf is the best thing I ever did. Good lord, did you see that bird, Slyfoot? It was enormous! Come on, let's fill it with holes!" ________________________________________________________ Next: Adventure! Danger! Quicksand!

*Your entry has earned 3 XP* The Hololog of Harnabus Clod, Captain and Explorer Professor Floon's Journal Kitsa Rigo's Personal Notes Next, we meet the diabolical Colonel Corbett!

Excellent writing. You do the military/squad/action stuff in such an enjoyable way. Naturally the build is great! Why the purple background though? Looks kind of whack.

They're a Star Wars tradition! We should all subject our poor characters to more creepy beasties (and Bjorn's is so well-executed!)

It could be interesting to add your style (light bluish gray things, ey?) to the CFS pool of builders. Best I can offer is a great discord community and opportunities to tell interesting and varied stories. You do you!

This is absolutely spectacular. What an effort. Huge kudos, this is a really impressive project executed perfectly. What lights do you use? The effect is spot on.

*Your entry has earned 9 XP* Mato's Tale: Chapter VII For the first time in his life, Mato woke to the sun streaming through a window. On Nal Hutta he had slept in a room with as much ventilation as a prison cell. Not much sun to go around anyway. Here it was blinding. The cot he'd slept on was the softest bed he’d ever had, but he rose nonetheless. He had always been punctual, mostly for the sake of survival: Hutt Bosses weren’t known for their patience. But there were no Hutt Bosses here. He had slept in “the House”, an abandoned Imperial Governor’s mansion-turned community hub. Ko-Yode, the leader of the colony of Bur Wend, had put him up in the same wing that he slept in; not the house’s actual bedrooms, but what used to be the servant’s quarters. Mato imagined there was a statement being made there. Vendors stuffed the shining halls. Mato was wandering and watching people set up their market stalls when Ko-Yode found him. “Sleep well?” Ko-Yode asked. “Until your blasted sun assaulted me.” The Steward smiled behind his beard. “First time seeing a sun?” “One that bright? You bet your chob.” Ko-Yode grinned and retrieved a wide-brimmed hat from one of the vendors to give the Weequay. “This could help. You’ll have plenty of time to get used to it, don’t you worry. After all, you’ll be out in the hills.” This turned Mato’s attention. He looked up, maybe a little overeager. “Anything to earn my place,” he said quickly. “I’m ready to work.” “I’ve got no doubt,” Ko-Yode nodded. “You’ll be training with Dinnie for the week. She oversees our rice farms on the Lam Mountains. She’ll show you the ropes, introduce you around. And maybe later, you and I can go for a hunt, eh?” Mato considered it. He wasn’t eager to do any sort of violence, and he told Ko-Yode this. The dark-skinned man looked him over keenly, before finally nodding with something between understanding and approval. “We’ll go for a walk instead. Get some time to talk.” An older female Gungan, dressed in field clothes, walked toward them. “Ko-Yode! Our prophet,” she said as she approached, bowing to the man in black. “Theesa must be da traitor! The mutt from da Hutts!” Ko-Yode gave her a look. “Let’s not shout about that, Din. Our friend prefers his privacy. We’re all entitled to that, eh?” The Gungan grinned at Mato. “Sure, sure!” Except for Yigs—who saved him—and Ko-Yode—who had shown him such kindness—Mato couldn’t help but fall back into his lifelong attitudes of suspicion and defensiveness towards others. Show no weakness. Reveal nothing. Do what you are told. Know danger and avoid attention. So the Weequay, feeling attacked and vulnerable from the mention of his past, snarled back at her. “Was that supposed to be a joke? Wasn’t very funny.” To Ko-Yode, she said, “Not quite free of his old manners, huh?” then she looked to Mato. “Oh, yousa will have time to learn when I’m jokin’. And yes,” she added. “That was a joke. Good one, too! Yousa will figure out when to laugh, weesa got all week!” Mato wasn’t sure he’d last that long. Hard work he would endure, but he wasn’t used to having to endure annoying companions. The annoying ones never lasted long on Nal Hutta. They said farewell to Ko-Yode, and Dinnie led the way to a skimmer idling near the House. By now the sun had disappeared, replaced by an overcast sky. Tall mountains stood in the distance, shrouded by fog. “Might drizzle,” Dinnie muttered. “Hope yousa don’t mind getting wet!” “Whatever falls from the sky, it won’t be the stinking muck I’m used to. I’ll be fine, gungan.” “Meesa got a name! And meesa not the only Gungan here. Unless yousa want to get confused, yousa better get used to using it!” They left the community hub on the skimmer, humming towards the uplands. Mato wrapped himself in Yigs’ cloak and his new hat to shield himself from the rain. “Let meesa tell you about our farmin’! ‘Till last year, this place was controlled by the Empire! Made food for some research place on the planet. The Empire used Agrichems: spray a field, and anything grows! No hard work required! Just plant and harvest!” “Sounds real easy. Are you using Agrichems here, then?” “What! No!” Dinnie sputtered in disgust. “Agrichems may be easy, friend, but they destroy the soil beneath! Poison the land itself! Make it impossible to grow anything there without them. The Empire was makin’ sure no one could use the farmland without Agrichems. Ruin it for anyone that took control!” Pretty selfish. Mato didn’t have much experience with the Empire, but he’d seen plenty of pettiness in his lifetime. Taken part in some too. Mato looked out over the land as their skimmer climbed the hills. A vast swath of flatland sat empty and unplanted. The ground was dark and scorched and had a sickly appearance. Field workers were scattered about. “What’s that place, Gung—“ Mato corrected himself midsentence. “. . . Uh, Dinnie?” Dinnie was pleased he was learning so fast. She looked out over the fields. Her tone turned frustrated. “Weesa call it the Scar. The best, widest farmland! But now it’s the stinkiest farmland! It’s ruined! Weesa can’t use it until we heal the land.” Mato stared. “Karf, what a mess . . . But, fixed? You’re saying it can be fixed?” “Yes, yes, but issa lot of work. We all take shifts in big, clompy protection suits to treat the flatlands, trying to restore the soil to good health. In the meantime, we been farming up in the hills. Empire didn’t use the hills. Now, some of the colonists want to go back to buying and using Agrichems, but one spray and poof! All our work undone! Stuck usin’ ‘em forever! So that’s no good.” “You’ve got to be kidding me! What a bunch of idiots.” “Eh, yousa can’t blame them too much; doing things right is a lot more work. Issa tempting to go back to the easy methods. That’s one thing those robot salesmen—Techno Union—is offerin’. Agrichems. But weesa say no! And Ko-Yode says no,” she said proudly. Mato bared a smile. “He stood his ground. Got to watch him do it, too. Threatened to hit one with his staff, y’know.” “Heesa did? Hah! Wish I coulda seen that! Yes, yes, Ko-Yode has been teaching us all about takin’ care of the land. Heesa Bur Wend’s steward, but heesa just bein’ humble. Heesa prophet! Sent by the force to lead us. And meesa would follow him anywhere. Even somewhere hot and horrible like the Scar!” Once they had reached the top, they climbed off the skimmer with bags of seed. Small pools that dotted the mountainside were being harnessed as paddy fields for growing rice. The pools they’d stopped at were still in the process of being converted, their water levels regulated by a tall, white Irrigation Regulator. “It predicts the weather, too!” said Dinnie, slapping the side of the machine. “Lotsa tricks!” They sloshed into the pools to clear weeds and prepare the soil for planting. While they worked, Dinnie made jokes and poked fun at Mato for his obvious discomfort and clumsiness. “All yousa planting is yousa face into that pool!” she laughed. Mato wasn’t used to being laughed at. He bristled with every comment, which only invited more jokes from the gusty Gungan farmer. Finally, when her jokes had turned towards the topic of the Hutts and his past life, he was reaching his breaking point. “So what’s the bathing like? Do yousa all just stand under a grate and let a Hutt drip down slime on yousa heads?” Mato burned with anger and shame. Without realizing what he was doing, he lashed out with his fist, swinging at Dinnie’s head. She ducked away and swatted him on the back, sending him splashing into the pool. When he rose, still seething, her voice had turned hard, her manner swelled-up and serious. Despite her jokes, she was a formidable person. “Yousa try anything like that again, and yousa gonna regret it. What’s wrong with yousa?” Mato, breathing hard, was flooded with regret. He couldn’t let this kind of thing happen. He was done with that life. It took great effort to allow his anger to pass, but he managed to mutter an apology. “Meesa forgive you. But yousa watch yourself!” They worked together for the rest of the week, cultivating the new Lam Rice pools. Mato quickly learned that Dinnie wasn’t kidding; doing things the right way was hard work. He spent all day up to the calf in cold water. They warmed themselves by the skimmer’s engine in the afternoons if they didn’t have the sun. Mato tried every day to make amends for his outburst. He filled Dinnie’s canteen before she asked, gave her some of his portions, and would offer to do extra work so she could rest. She happily accepted, sitting on the grass and pointing out flaws in his work. Dinnie noticed his shame and appreciated his work ethic. As Mato had made it well and clear that he was sensitive about his time on Nal Hutta, she injected her humor with moments of kindness and went a little easier on him from then on. She didn’t stop poking fun at him, not in the least, but her jokes stopped referencing his past. The Gungan became his teacher. She taught him well, supported him, but never let him get away with laziness. They got to know each other better on the job; Mato learned that Dinnie and her mate had moved to Wayland via a refugee program the CFS had started for displaced Imperial slaves. “Heesa not like heesa used to be,” she said sadly. “Broken by the Empire. Not much more than a shell.” “I’m . . . sorry.” “Treatments in the Core Worlds woulda had us in a gutter. Broke! So meesa figured fresh air was the next best thing. But heesa not much better than heesa was a year ago.” She gave a heavy sigh but hid her emotion by focusing on their work. “Get another bag of seed from the skimmer, yousa lazabout!” The two became strong companions. In the evenings they would gather with the other farmers for supper. Mato must have tensed up when he saw the group of people because he heard Dinnie whisper, “No one wants to hurt you! Relax!” Dinnie was the life of the party at these dinners, entertaining everyone with her jokes and stories. In the beginning, a few of these were always about Mato, but by the end of the week she had started to joke less about him, and more with him, and if anyone gave him a weird look, it was Dinnie who came to his defense. Soon, no one gave him weird looks. He had never had someone in his corner before unless they were betting on him in a fight. Never someone who liked him. Soon he found himself enjoying the suppers despite himself. He sat in the circle with the other workers, laughed at Dinnie’s jokes, listened to stories, and relaxed after the long day. For the first time in his life, he felt a strange sense of safety and rightness, one that he couldn't quite name. He was valued for who he was. Other farmers treated him with respect and affection, and he the same to them, which felt just about as good. No one wanted to kill him. He nearly threw up for thinking this, but maybe he had found a place that he could claim as home. Somewhere he could belong. Nah, that wasn’t it. Nah. It was probably just the stew. ____________________________________________________________________ The Techno Union transport, silent and dark, hovered in orbit over Wayland. Like an insect breaking from an egg, a ship emerged from within. The wide-winged lander flashed its engines, droning towards the planet’s surface.

Thanks for the very high praise. Stay tuned for more meditative farming tales.