Major Story Elements
[!note]
Story elements here are common knowledge on Celeste 7, and somewhat beyond, it is likely that most characters will have a fundamental understanding of them.
Corporate
Capitalism is alive and well on the moon, unchained and unrestrained by the more sensible notions like the rule of law on Earth. MegaCorps form the lifeblood of Celeste 7, supplying its backbone infrastructure, its transit, and a wealth of new technologies possible nowhere else for profitable export. Corporate types might be company executives, managers, corporate enforcers, and maybe just a regular office drone. Whatever their position, Corpos, as they are so often called, benefit greatly from the influence and prestige of their company, and will often work to further that ends by taking advantage of new opportunities for their corp, or creating disadvantages for their competitors.
The corporate world is cutthroat, and the ranks of Corpos are rife with ruthless, self-serving opportunists whose ambition and greed have no parallels on the moon. They reflect the wealth and status attainable on the moon, though not without the risk of a downturn quarter or a rival corp who may seize opportunities before theirs. Blackmail and extortion live alongside manipulative marketing tactics in the Corpo toolbox, some even go further with private security forces meant to protect them from enemies…sometimes by offensive means.
[!tip] Writer’s Note
While the highest level of leadership in the MegaCorps will remain NPCs due to their outsized influence in the story, leaders of their subsidiaries can be written by anyone, as well as mid-level executives or regular employees of any MegaCorp.
Discrete
Corporations might control every aspect of life on the moon, but they would have little power or capability without the millions of regular people living and working for them. These masses may show up on spreadsheets and quarterly reports as a numerical sum, yet even the Corps cannot deny that they are discrete individuals. Discretes, a clerical moniker for these individuals, are anyone who doesn’t owe their loyalty to a particular Corp, who works only for a substantive wage, who may toil in the sunless expanses of lava tubes or deep in the mohole. They can be a regular joe, a nobody, perhaps an urchin or ne’er-do-well, an upstanding member of the community, run small neighborhood shops or services, and might just be your neighbor from down the hall.
Discretes come from all walks of life and just are as varied in their demeanor. Some might aspire to the Corporate life, others may be content with the simpler joys in life…as pricey as they are. Others may take the lunar frontier in stride, pushing the boundaries of risk and thrill for cheap entertainment. Reputation is just as valuable as in Corpo circles just attained by other means, some Discretes find a way to make a name for themselves and gain a kind of status that doesn’t necessarily require wealth. Life on Celeste 7 isn’t easy, but there are millions who make it work for them somehow.
Darkwire
Darkwire is a criminal syndicate operating out of Celeste 7. For a time, they were the name uttered when catastrophe struck. An industrial plant sabotaged? Confidential corporate plans stolen? Lost dog? Must have been Darkwire behind it, and that was the way both the Corpos and Darkwire liked it. For those not in the know, outside of the innermost rings of power, the idea of criminals helping the Corpos was little more than a wisecrack made any time a competing Corp swooped in to take advantage of the misfortune sown by Darkwire. Select few knew about, and fewer still took seriously, the link between the enigmatic Darkwire Storyteller and the Corpos. Much less that they could be one themselves. For those true-believers, the Shadowrunners, sometimes all that mattered was a place to focus their frustrations over lunar dystopia in the form of rage —and for their Contractors, all that mattered was getting paid.
Nowadays, Darkwire is on a backfoot. They move in whispers, run in shadows, and let the glory deeds get swooped up by more rowdy street crews. But glory’s nature is fleeting on the moon, letting crime and mayhem run amok is a threat to the MegaCorps in power over Celeste 7. Other criminals, their gangs or crews, may rise then fall in a crackdown’s sweep, while Darkwire just fades into the background. Only to be the name on everyone’s tongue again when a big heist goes off in Corpo-land, an easy gremlin to blame for a Corp’s misfortunes. Darkwire’s name holds a certain amount of gravitas in the right conversation, it something to admire for those whose highest views are ceilings, not stars. There are many who claim to be Darkwire, and more who’d like to join them. Still, only a few who venture into the silent rave crowds of the oft-rumored Silkscreen club find their music suddenly switched to noise. To indecipherable patterns. And then to the words of the new Darkwire, welcoming their latest initiate:
“Corpos own everything: the tubes, the schools, the 'Net. Fight them head-on, and they’ll bury you. But we’re the undercurrent, the rhythm of Celeste 7. A beat that gets in your head, burrows in like a worm. Kill the music, and the beat keeps going. That’s us. A dark wire threaded through the fabric of the moon. Pull too hard, and the whole city unravels.”
Union
It starts from a whisper in the fields, a song in the mines, a hushed conversation in the break rooms. Cooperation among workers is collusion against the corps, but threats can only go so far. A hungry stomach, poor sleep, and a consistent risk of injury is a potent unifier among the discrete workforce. Calling it a union in public is the worst thing to do, it’s a meeting of the minds, a friendly club among peers, with just a leader or two to keep things running smoothly. And just because someone’s disillusionment came from a Corporate job doesn’t mean they aren’t included, useful skills in law and finance are always welcome additions to the in-person meetings.
Sometimes this union, though only the Corpos call it that, speaks out. Posters go up, a protest congregates only to disperse at the whispers of enforcers coming down. If they stay, it might only be the presence of cameras to keep them there, knowing that their non-violent voices will make more of an impact than the batons and bullets of crowd control. Those who give their lives or freedom for the cause only add to the urgency of the movement, seeking only habitable conditions, fair wages, and safety on the job that sounds like reason to anyone outside the corporate boardrooms. What they get in return is anything but an open ear.