That curved monitor is sexy. How much did that set you back?

Here's a link to my original gaming rig setup setup, but the PC was getting a little dated and couldn't even run the new lighting upgrade in STO, so I blew the vacation budget on upgrading my gaming rig and a new 34" curved-display :)

It was a lot of fun. Definitely want to run more often!

Just wanted to do a shout-out to @AngeliKale7, @Teknomancer, @DanaDark, @nycblkboy, @Dazz, @Audiored, @JheredTorve, and Quinn. We had a great time running STFs as a team. Thanks to NYC, Dazz, and Quinn for stepping in to fill the empty seats when they came up. We spent over 2.5 hours playing as a team and knocked out quite a few instances, including Undine Assault and Vicious Cycle, Vault Ensnared, ISA (with Parse), and others we haven't seen in a while.

Safe to say, no one plays this anymore.

I only just got one from work, I haven't yet tested it out with STO. From my understanding though, it should be similar to how the Xbox controller setup is, if that's possible to have on the PC version (I know STO developed a lot of new systems for console release).

bump

Quote by Gravity

Once you have the tokens you can spend them whenever

Good to know :-)

Once you have the tokens you can spend them whenever

bump caues i want to know too, i have none of them so im thinking, chel grett, jemhadar atack or voth prostate massager.

mostly im thinking the chel, possibly the jemhadar but you apparently got some fancy torp form the voth. 

i only have 1 token so which should i go for and why?

Are you sure about that deadline? Seems to me if you have the tokens, they should still work after the promo is over...

Several people - including myself have been asking which T5 ship/ships to get....

Any advice ?

Be quick we have to get them by Thursday :-)

Gav !

Have a look and enjoy ...

Thank you @Rayne and @skyggen957 for your #WritingContest entries!  And with those entries, our Writing Contest is now closed!  We'll be reading everyone's amazing entries throughout the week and will announce the winners by next Monday (December 12th!)  Good luck to everyone!

Just wrote this on a morning coffee buzz. I'm on a rather different time zone, so I hope i've made the deadline and not screwed up somehow..

*

He had heard that the Cardassians said that the Romulan heart was as grey as their planet. But as Aegnor remembered Romulus, grand old Romulus, he remembered only colour. Perhaps not the vivid gold of Cardassia or the blues of Earth that he had seen on holograms. But it was an elegantly, discreetly hued planet as befitted a planet with an Empress.

The Republic Flotilla Command of course immediately saw through the Republican veneer that Aegnor put up. One does not create a whole new space power overnight without seeing who your friends and enemies were. At his heart he was an Imperialist. Who in the right mind would get rid of a perfectly good Empress? Exchanging the power of one mind, one voice, for the clatter and dissonance of the many. Perhaps the Borg had a point. Wasn’t it bad enough that the Senate had absorbed power over the centuries and diluted the voice of the Crown? The ruin that came to Romulus was no doubt because of that partisan bickering – a bickering that rewarded the vainglorious and that would be multiplied many times over with a Republic, and the ruin that would surely again follow.

Aegnor stood at the tall, cold, windows of D’Tan’s flagship and regarded his new command with feelings so mixed it felt numb. The Republic had found use for his capable command and his inadequate loyalties. The Merothrax was his reward. An aging D’Deridex warbird. A 24^th Century ship for his 24^th Century loyalties. Outdated, but to his eyes, a vast and grand starship still unequalled in beauty by the new Republic designs. Just like his sentiments for what he had heard a Human describe as ‘Pax Imperia’ – the peace of the Empire. But the Republic would keep its Federation friends close, and those like him closer still.

Even his command staff were like mirrors of the pieces of his soul. No doubt the Cardassians would call his soul a grey soul. At this moment he felt inclined to agree. His First Officer, a capable man but seemingly obsessed with his vanished sister. Three tactical officers formerly from the Tal Shiar. Their dossiers indicated that they had been top-tier operatives specialising in locating the vulnerabilities of their foes, but as with all things Tal Shiar Aegnor wasn’t quite sure if they were locating vulnerabilities within or without the ship. A science officer whose only interest appeared to be the study of the disintegration of molecular structures. An engineering office who was mainly concerned with the explosive nature of things. It seemed the Merothrax would be an antimatter keg adrift in space.

He sourly fingered the new uniform and the data crystal in his hand that carried his new orders. His mission sounded just as doggedly desperate as the name of his uniform. The staff of the Flotilla referred with pride to the uniform as the Survivor’s uniform as though it reminded them of a battle hard-won. It rang poorly in his ears, sounding only like the bleats of immigrants scattered through the stars with no birthright, no proper place in the galaxy.


Still his orders held some hope. Assigned to the lowly patrol of the distant corners of the new Republic, perhaps some opportunity could be made of being forgotten. After all, obsolete or not, the D’Deridex was still a formidable power compared to the lesser species of the quadrant. As he looked on at the Merothrax, its running lights and windows glowed on as the engineering team powered up the starship for flight and the edges of the ship glowed green where the shield energies curved around its wings and crenellations. The sight filled him with some sense of purpose, and for a moment the numbness left him. Where the Merothrax went, a piece of the Empire would follow. And there was some satisfaction to be had in that.

You'll find my rather lengthy entry here.

Thanks @Teknomancer, @Duriansol, and @Iconoclastix for your #WritingContest submissions!  Can't wait to read them!  Good luck!!

This isn’t really a story as such, think of it like the “cold open” scene before an episode’s starting credits. It’s basically the prelude or prologue to a mission or adventure, setting the scene for whatever story comes after the show’s opening credits run.  

~~~~~
“A little to the left,” Emil murmured, moving his head slightly to make his lobes easier to reach. Just then, the ship’s alarm klaxons cut through the angular yet strangely relaxing Rigelian jazz. “Unidentified vessel approaching at high warp on an intercept course, DaiMon to the bridge!” came Balingi’s nervous voice over the comm, rising to a panicked shriek with his last phrase.

With an exasperated sigh, Emil looked into the nearly nude Deltan’s opalescent eyes and grumbled, “Computer, freeze program and open a channel to the bridge.” The expensively-programmed holographic fingers stopped their massaging, and upon hearing the almost imperceptible change in audio as the microphone opened, Emil didn’t wait for the computer to announce the channel’s readiness. Rising from the couch, he barked “All right you idiots, what is it this time? You know my 223^rd Rule breaks are never to be disturbed! This program cost me more latinum than your combined net worth, but I’ll never get any value out of it if you keep interrupting me! And turn off that infernal racket!”

The alarm went mercifully silent as a crisp female voice broke in, “Sorry for the interruption sir, Gon here. The ship’s transponder codes don’t match anyone we’ve dealt with before and they’re not responding to our hails.  They could be either new customers or raiders, but whatever they want they’re in a really big hurry to get here. Your orders?” Eardrums still ringing from the deafening alarm, Emil looked wistfully at the softly-illuminated Deltan’s smooth, chiseled body and sighed, “Computer, end program.”

His surroundings brightened and resolved back into his private holosuite’s familiar grid as he started toward the door for his quarters, saying “Gon, send the standard inventory advertising hail. Just make sure everything mentioned in the ad is actually in stock and ready for delivery, include the 1^st Rule disclaimer and remember that all pricing offers must be pre-approved by me. Keep shields down for now but be ready to initiate full tactical status if they’re hostile. Raise shields and take evasive action if they lock weapons after they drop out of warp, return fire if they start shooting. Oh and Balingi, why are you even up there? Get back to main engineering where you belong! I’m on my way, DaiMon out.”

As he passed through his quarters on his way to the turbolift, the light reflected by the latinum bindings on his collector’s copy of the Rules of Acquisition (Golden Knowledge Ed., inside cover stamped with the Grand Nagus’ administrative assistant’s clerk’s certification seal) caught his eye. ‘That reminds me, I really need to have a ship-wide seminar on the Rules,’ he considered as the turbolift slowed, ‘I know I recruited them right out of the Academy, but it’s absolutely scandalous that so many of these lobelings know the Prime Directive better than their own Rules of Acquisition.’ Walking toward the DaiMon’s chair as the lift doors closed behind him, he demanded, “Status report!”

“They’ve dropped out of warp and come to a full stop just at the edge of our visual range now, sir. Scan results are inconclusive and there is still no response to our hails. Switching main viewscreen from tactical to external.” Emil nodded his approval and turned to the viewscreen, knowing that Gon needed little direction from him. She had been his most expensive recruit, commanding almost triple the signing percentage of the others; Starfleet indoctrination hadn’t dulled her profit motive by a slip’s worth. Then again, he had known ahead of time that any Ferengi’s verifiable Starfleet credentials wouldn’t come cheap.  Her cum laude tactical status had fetched quite the premium, but she was turning out to be worth almost every bar.

“What is that thing? Maximum magnification.” The screen filled with an indistinct, shifting, distorted mass, barely distinguishable from the surrounding space and constant only in its size.  “What’s wrong with my ship? Why can’t I see it and why are the scan results inconclusive?” Emil was unable to focus his eyes upon any detail of the ship, yet the stars onscreen with it were perfectly visible.

“I can explain that, DaiMon,” Glupara replied while turning from the science station, “they appear to be using a ship holo-emitter configured to project that visual camouflage effect instead of a static disguise. The problem is that they’re also masking their energy signature so the sensors can’t get a fix on them any better than our eyes can. We know roughly where they are but we have no idea who they are. It’s not quite a cloaking device, but it’s close enough.”

Emil stepped closer to the viewscreen. “Broadcast on all system-range frequencies, full translation.” Hearing the control’s faint beep, he began, “Welcome, friendly customers!” Gon rolled her eyes and kept her hand by the shield controls. Emil continued, “Like many of my customers, it’s clear that you value discretion in your business transactions. Allow me to assure you…” he trailed off as a buzzing noise began, then rapidly multiplied in volume and pitch. Hands raised to his ears, he shouted at his bridge crew, “Cut the channel, you idiots!” The sound’s pressure on his eardrums was agonizing as he turned and saw them already slumped unconscious at their stations. He started to black out, forcing out the words “Computer, lock out all command functions, authorization Emil letra deemo mirra…” while collapsing to the deck.
~~~~~
 

Sometime last week...

Durian stood up, this was his third attempt at reconfiguring the holodeck. The modifications that Voyager had brought back shouldn't have been that difficult to implement. Whatever the Hirogen had done was subtle, but expanding the holoemitters across the entire ship was causing a significant power drain from the auxilary systems.

Out of frustration he chided himself, "Sol, we're not engineers! Why am I doing this task?" He then pulled his phaser, aimed it at the interface and fired. The panel exploded with a small shockwave.

Durian hit his combadge, "Captain to Engineering, we've had a power coupling explode in panel 254-A. Please send a repair crew." Durian left the hallway and returned to his quarters. "Sometimes the best offense is an engineering project."

The End

Unfortunately my wife and I own/operate a small business and I just don't have the free time to write a full story this month. However I did want to participate in some small way so I'm entering the bio of Ross Well, one of my alt characters. The above stories are great and my entry is simply not in their league, however since Ross (and his wife, Rose) are both very short, perhaps it's fitting that my entry be short as well...

Imagine, if you will, an alternate reality where life evolved on Sol's 4th planet instead of the third. You and your spouse work in a secret government department, Management of Inter-dimensional Barriers (M.I.B.). You attend the company picnics, the year's end party, dress casually on casual day and of course, when it's "Bring Your Kids to Work Week", you bring your children to work. 

Now imagine during one such week, a clumsy co-worker, a glass of liquid, and a spill at just the right time onto just the wrong junction panel. A shower of sparks, a power surge to the hypertachyon containment field, and three children sitting too close to the omni-directional viewing portal when the resulting implosion manifests into an uncontrolled trans-dimensional chronometric-spacial anomoly.

As the young ones are sucked into who knows where/when, you and your spouse leap in after them. Fortunately you arrive in the proper dimension (this one), however due to vortexes in the timestream the kids land in a different era. Now you're a stranger in a strange land, with the impossible task of rescuing three lost ones who have been ripped through time and space. You have entered... ...the Twilight Zone!

So we've learned how to survive in this dimension. We made friends, notably Philip Cray who told us of the many reports of "flying saucers" in the mid-20th century North America. A description which bears an uncanny resemblance to Starfleet spacecraft. 

With a sympathetic heart he also speaks of rumours of government capture and cover-up, secret interrogations, experimentation and vivisection in hidden laboratories far underground or deep within mountainsides. Facilities guarded by heavily armed soldiers. We want to believe that they're out there. Because even if we have to join Starfleet to gain access to your temporal technology, by Barsoom's watery canals, we swear we'll rescue our children and return them safely home! You grok?!