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Description of a typical Imperial Agri-world, from The Lords of Silence.
All agri worlds are of similar size, located in similar orbital zones within their void systems and subject to specific exposure to a prescribed spectrum of solar radiation. Their soils have to be within a tight compositional range, and they have to be close to major supply worlds.
The Imperium is not a gentle custodian of such places. After discovery of a candidate planet, the first fifty years are spent in terraforming according to well-worn Martian procedures. All pre-existing life is scrubbed from the rocks, either by the application of controlled virus-chewers or by timed flame-drops. The atmosphere is regulated, first through the actions of gigantic macro-processors and thereafter by a land-based network of control units, more commonly referred to as command nodes. Weather, as least as generally understood, disappears. Rainfall becomes a matter of controlled timing, governed by satellites in low orbit and kept in line by fleets of dirigibles. The empty landscape is divided up into colossal production zones, each patrolled by crawlers and pest-thopters. Millions of base-level servitors are imported, kept at the very lowest level of cognitive function but bulked up by a ruthless level of muscle-binders.
Soon after this process completes, every agri world looks exactly the same – a flat, wind-rummaged plain of high-yield crops swaying towards the empty horizon. A person could walk for days and never see a distinctive feature. Not that anyone sane would choose to walk in such places – the industrial fertiliser dumps are so powerful that they turn the air orange and make it impossible to breathe unfiltered. A single growing season exhausts the soil completely, requiring continual delivery of more sprays of nitrates and phosphates, all delivered from the grimy berths of hovering despatch flyers. The entire world is given over to a remorseless monoculture, with orthogonal drainage channels burning with chem-residue and topsoil continually degrading into flimsier and flimsier dust.
But that doesn’t matter. A planet can be driven like this for thousands of years before it eventually keels over and becomes a death world. The quality of the crops gets steadily worse, but the quantity can be sustained almost indefinitely, assuming that supply lines are maintained and imports remain consistent. At the end of every season, the great harvester leviathans are stoked up and dragged from their pens and let loose on the grey fields, smokestacks belching and tracked undercarriages sinking deep. These massive creatures of high-sided metal and intricate pipework, the smallest of which are a hundred metres long, crawl across the blasted prairies, sucking up every last speck of pallid grain and piping it directly to antiseptic internal hoppers. Feed-landers come down from high flight, dock with the still-trundling leviathans and extract the raw material, from where it is taken into the city-sized processor vats, blasted with antibiotics, smashed, burned, crushed, then stamped and packaged. Once ready for transport, containers are dragged up into orbit aboard swell-bellied landers, ready for transfer to the void-bound mass conveyers, which deliver the refined product to every starving hive world and forge world in their long circuits.
There is a quaint tradition in the various propaganda departmentos of the Administratum of marketing agri worlds as quasi-paradises, free of the squalor and overcrowding of a standard urban station, and full of bucolic ease. Vid-cards are dropped into communal hab-warrens, extolling the virtues of a life lived outdoors with the sun on your back and a ruddy-faced boy or girl – subject to preference – by your side. In reality, life on an agri world is as unrelenting, back-breaking and monotonous as the vast majority of other Imperial vocations. There are no trees laden with glossy fruit, only kilometre after kilometre of hissing corn.
There are no gentle strolls under the warming sun, only punishing work details in rad-suits, leaning into the dust-laden winds that howl around the equator with nothing to halt their rampage. Once the new arrivals have made planetfall and found this out, it is too late. Crew transports arrive on agri worlds full and leave empty. There is a saying among the indentured workers – you come for the soil, you end up part of it.
PHILADELPHIA (CBS) – Philadelphia Municipal Court is resuming evictions as early as Monday, saying landlord tenant officers have now received training on use of force and de-escalation tactics.
A spokesperson for the court’s Landlord and Tenant Office said evictions will now be conducted in teams of two officers who have all received Pennsylvania Constable training.
this is LITERALLY class warfare
The LTO is funded by service fees from landlords and not taxpayer money. Fees to landlords will increase from $145 to $350 to cover the additional staff, training and insurance costs.
and who the fuck do you think is going to end up ultimately paying those fees in the end? where do you think the landlords are going to get the money? you’re just giving them an excuse to raise the rent. oh my god this country is a complete and total failed state.
Things I have gathered about Danny Phanton without having ever watched the show (from posts and fanfics):
There’s ghosts and they’re kind of assholes, but they’re also all friends and have christmas parties. Their presence is treated as a mild annoyance by everyone except the ghost hunters.
The main character is a dead 14yo. Sometimes. He’s also trans.
There are adult professional ghost hunters around. Literally all of them seem like they are just taking out their serial killer urges on ghosts. “Man is the real monster” trope in action. At least some of the ghost hunters are a Men In Black parody.
The dead 14yo actually the most competent at removing ghosts from the mortal plane.
There is another 14yo who is not dead and also hunting ghosts. She’s somehow also more competent at it than the adults.
The MC’s parents are ghost hunters and want to torture him into perma-death. That is somehow not the biggest problem with their parenting.
(Like, I get that adults in kids’ media need to be kinda dumb and immature for the premise of the show/book/movie/whatever to work, but I’m getting the feeling the adults in this show cross the line of ‘plot necessary dumbass’ into 'fucked up and abusive’ territorry.)
One of the ghosts is tiny, piloting a giant mecha suit and dedicated to skinning the MC and hanging his skin on his wall. He somehow also has a cool rocker girlfriend and thinks this will impress her. Jury’s out on whether or not that’s a good strategy.
There is a ghost called the Box Ghost, who demands to be taken seriously. Nobody takes him seriously.
The MC’s nemesis is another dude who is sometimes dead. He looks like a vampire and swears in food. He also wants to kill the MC’s dad (for mostly valid reasons) and bang his mom (for no good reason at all) and adopt the MC as his son(mostly because of his hangups around the parents, not because said parents suck at being parents). In a villainous and fucked up way, because he’s the main antagonists. He’s also a billionaire, has a cat, and is weirdly obsessed with american football (IDK jack shit about american football, but the level of obsession is treated as not normal by the characters so I will assume it is weird and just how americans be like).
There were 3 seasons, but half of the fandom is convinced the third one may have been a fever dream because it’s so bad.
There was a finale that everyone pretends didn’t happen because it sucked.
There is at least one time travel fix it episode and the time travel ghost wears way too many watches.
The MC has two living friends - Wade from Kim Possible, but thinner and leaves his house, and a jewish goth vegan.
The MC has a clone and she’s a baby and a gremlin.
The ships all have the weirdest fucking names.
Somehow half the named characters being dead is not the angstiest part of the show.
I kinda want to know how someone came up with it and what drugs they were taking. IDK if I want to try some or avoid them, but it would be good to know either way.
Listen to me I am sick of your dumb ass reincarnating as animals over and over again and coming to visit me at my house as a supposed “sign of your presence” I keep killing the things you come back as every time on purpose I do not want a dog to live here nor a cat nor a beautiful bird nor that which crawls beneath the Earth. We’re THROUGH. The relationship ended when your life as a human did. I get that you want to keep this “Twin flame” soul mate reincarnation bullshit afloat but 1. I will not be returning to the cycle of death and rebirth due to my dark heart AND 2. Even if I did come back, good luck being born a human around the same time as me once more. Asshole. I’m salting the earth around my yard so that from the ground no plants may grow and from there comes no germs from plants, no bugs from germs, no birds from bugs, no beasts from birds. No you.
the emperor is the worst. after 30,000 years of all these lifetimes, as the apostle matthew, as all these famous people hes still obsessed with his 20 year stint as Alexander the great. Names his fucking flagship after his horse, calls his guards the companions, absolute dickhead of a man
Man loved one horse roughly 30K years ago more than his own 21 handcrafter designer baby sons
This really makes the Studios costing themselves even more money (and getting more unions involved) by prolonging the strike for the promise of free ai labor even more fucking funny. you dumb fucking bastards lol
