Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Apr 6, 2016 2:19:58 GMT -5
Hategir, pronounced hah-teh-gear, is a world that has the dubious distinction of lying one parsec closer to the outside edge of the Mid-Rim than any other planet. It is the only planet worth noting in the Uvrecht sector, a small area between Ryoone and Riflor. Other worlds in the sector include 'Lexica,' a planet founded essentially as a large hippie colony, and 'Carvelia', the private purchase of one-time billionaire Hiram Carvel, who retired to his own planet and mansion there. As such Hategir occupies a certain strange, mild, unusual twist of pride.
Hategir is a planet that seems to have remarkably little diversity in topography. Through a fascinating geological period, the planet has only two large oceans (connected through friendly neighboring seas, channels, and straits) which are honeycombed with landmasses. The result is a near endless mix of fjords, rocky coastlines, deep harbors, and 'passes' that seem to exist from one angle but disappear up close. There are also a large numbers of mountains, cliffs, and other lovely topographic areas of interest. Another common theme is forest. Those areas where trees can go, they do. Very profusely, and very abundantly. The few areas that are sufficiently cleared are home to farmland. Flat ground is cherished indeed, if only for sheer novelty value.
Hategir has an unusual and vibrant set of seasons. Winters are distinct, and gifted with both ice and snow in great abundance. Fall is likewise gifted with sleet, and rain that feels as cold as sleet. Spring is gifted with the lifespan normally reserved for flying insectoid pests trapped inside a house, and summer has the ability to become so hot and muggy that people long for the misery of a good fall.
As a rule Hategi distrust personal transportation, due to a lengthy spat of major bombings of repulsor vehicles a thousand years ago. This has had immeasurable impact on their cities. As a result, settlements tend to be within walking distance or within the riding distance of domesticated animals. Those who are wealthy or in need of speed operate fleets of speeder bikes and airspeeders, but these are not especially common or popular (due primarily to an instinctive ancestral fear of carbombs). Besides the walks themselves are usually pleasant enough, and dotted with roadside taverns and farms that subsist off of leisurely travelers.
Cities themselves tend to be on the small side, and tend to embody what is known as 'old world charm.' This is to say, they appeal immensely to people who've never had to live in them. People on Hategir are used to living in small spaces, and they are used to architecture that looked like it was favored by some sort of past tyrant with a penchant for public tortures and possibly burning people as witches. It was all part of the Hategi aesthetic, one of gothic stone, and dark wood, where even new buildings were required to look old under the power of architectural peer pressure alone. Legend holds that an architect once tried to introduce Taris Modern and was never seen again.
As regards flora and fauna, there's trees. Of the typical varieties. Coniferous, Deciduous. Made of wood. Not very talkative. A large number of game animals roam about in the forest as well, some of which are harmless like rabbits, and some of which are large and difficult boars. Also in the forests are occasional predators, rendered more occasional by hungry hunters. In the oceans you can find many other edible creatures. Forms of bivalve, fish, and eel abound. Mostly eel, with a peculiar thick and oily sort of flavor. Such foods have certainly influenced the culinary heritage.
Hategir is lacking in industry though, and compensates largely by productivity and assertiveness of citizens. From the Artisanal Poisons to Handmade Fine Carvings, Hategi are industrious creators of goods, and have managed to earn a strong niche in exporting luxuries, and deadly substances as well. Indeed assassination is perhaps the largest industry on Hategir, and as such the expert body of knowledge, tools, and equipment are routinely used to assist those outside of the planet. Strangely tourism has always been an attempted priority for the Hategi, despite their failures at slogans such as "Hategir, come the scenic lakes, stay because you've died."
Hategir is a planet that seems to have remarkably little diversity in topography. Through a fascinating geological period, the planet has only two large oceans (connected through friendly neighboring seas, channels, and straits) which are honeycombed with landmasses. The result is a near endless mix of fjords, rocky coastlines, deep harbors, and 'passes' that seem to exist from one angle but disappear up close. There are also a large numbers of mountains, cliffs, and other lovely topographic areas of interest. Another common theme is forest. Those areas where trees can go, they do. Very profusely, and very abundantly. The few areas that are sufficiently cleared are home to farmland. Flat ground is cherished indeed, if only for sheer novelty value.
Hategir has an unusual and vibrant set of seasons. Winters are distinct, and gifted with both ice and snow in great abundance. Fall is likewise gifted with sleet, and rain that feels as cold as sleet. Spring is gifted with the lifespan normally reserved for flying insectoid pests trapped inside a house, and summer has the ability to become so hot and muggy that people long for the misery of a good fall.
As a rule Hategi distrust personal transportation, due to a lengthy spat of major bombings of repulsor vehicles a thousand years ago. This has had immeasurable impact on their cities. As a result, settlements tend to be within walking distance or within the riding distance of domesticated animals. Those who are wealthy or in need of speed operate fleets of speeder bikes and airspeeders, but these are not especially common or popular (due primarily to an instinctive ancestral fear of carbombs). Besides the walks themselves are usually pleasant enough, and dotted with roadside taverns and farms that subsist off of leisurely travelers.
Cities themselves tend to be on the small side, and tend to embody what is known as 'old world charm.' This is to say, they appeal immensely to people who've never had to live in them. People on Hategir are used to living in small spaces, and they are used to architecture that looked like it was favored by some sort of past tyrant with a penchant for public tortures and possibly burning people as witches. It was all part of the Hategi aesthetic, one of gothic stone, and dark wood, where even new buildings were required to look old under the power of architectural peer pressure alone. Legend holds that an architect once tried to introduce Taris Modern and was never seen again.
As regards flora and fauna, there's trees. Of the typical varieties. Coniferous, Deciduous. Made of wood. Not very talkative. A large number of game animals roam about in the forest as well, some of which are harmless like rabbits, and some of which are large and difficult boars. Also in the forests are occasional predators, rendered more occasional by hungry hunters. In the oceans you can find many other edible creatures. Forms of bivalve, fish, and eel abound. Mostly eel, with a peculiar thick and oily sort of flavor. Such foods have certainly influenced the culinary heritage.
Hategir is lacking in industry though, and compensates largely by productivity and assertiveness of citizens. From the Artisanal Poisons to Handmade Fine Carvings, Hategi are industrious creators of goods, and have managed to earn a strong niche in exporting luxuries, and deadly substances as well. Indeed assassination is perhaps the largest industry on Hategir, and as such the expert body of knowledge, tools, and equipment are routinely used to assist those outside of the planet. Strangely tourism has always been an attempted priority for the Hategi, despite their failures at slogans such as "Hategir, come the scenic lakes, stay because you've died."