Clown ErisEn

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Difficulty: Easy
Superior: Sense of humour... oh, and the Club Manager.
Duties: Create art for the betterment of the crew's sanity. Or for personal riches.
Guides: No separate guides
Quote: I'm a performance artist. Honk!

The Greatest of All Time (me) [Artist]


I am the greatest person on this godforsaken ship! Nobody understands my art - they grumble at my jokes, beat me up for partaking in moderate amounts of tomfoolery, and treat me like damn trash. Until I pull my glorious Murderfucker 3000 RPG revolver. Then they are pleasant... Anyway, this was supposed to be my job description. Honkin' bureaucracy...


As the ship's artist, my job is to make art (who would've thunk). Wait, I'm not even getting paid. Can I call this a job? I don't think so! Soo... I am an INDENTURED SERVANT of the ship's Club. The greatest place on all the ship (we have all the booze!). I'm squatting in manager's basement, and am expected to shit out art as if it was some damn assembly line. Statues, oddities, guns, the lot - they want it all.

At least I don't have to tend the honkin' bar or slave away in the kitchen. Fuck that, I am made for greater things!

But alright, apparently it's supposed to be educational, so how do I accomplish all this miracle work? Simple. Copious amounts of blood, alcohol, gore, smokes, grime, dirt and drugs. I'm the one in the middle of the action when it starts and it gets my inspirational juices pumpin'. After I feel like I'm ready, I design and realize my grand visionary projects at my workstation to produce an assortment of nifty stuff. I can take it to sell to the Guild, or directly to the crew, or even show off a rocket-pistol or two around the ship. Putting it simply, for an uneducated peasant like you (yes, you, whoever you are, you honkin' pencil pusher who made me write all this maculature):

  • I sell my blood's work, or display it around the bar for the unwashed masses to gawk at (statues boost sanity of people around them).
  • I am in the midst of action or combat (to level insight faster).

Note to self: Time spent without borderline flatlining from drug, alcohol and smoke overdose is a time wasted. 'Tis the fuel of ART!

Guide to newbie clowns

As mentioned - we artists squat in the club's basement: "The Club Artist Office", as it's so pompously called (don't mind the rats). It is here, in the great shithole, where we shall be crafting the average person's wildest dreams into reality. Unlike regular inhabitants of the ship, the Clown Brethern do not feel the petty desires of wanting to eat, drink or other petty "cravings". When a clown has gained enough insight, the only thing we desire is to make art and until we do, we will remain stagnant at 100 insight points. This is when we construct anything in the ballpark of guns, oddities, statues and more, but also how we marginally increase your stats.

Our magnificent and underappreciated work is a trade-off. We gain insight at a rate 50% faster compared to others. What's the catch? We cannot gain perks or use oddities ourselves - our art reaches the hearts and minds of the masses, but remains forever out of reach to ourselves. Now you know why they say that comedy is tragedy plus timing...

Maximizing our insight is key to becoming an art goods factory and making new wonders by the moment. To meet this goal, smoking, drinking and doing drugs help immensely and each will fuel our maniacal obsession holy drive to create anything and everything our hearts desire, so we gotta make sure to stock up.

Pro clown tip: Pain and filth are a surefire way to give us that edge we need - after all, misery is a counterpoint to joy, and we NEED both, but we will need to manage this carefully or risk breaking down so go balls out and paint our room red with the the mixture of drugs, alcohol and blood that should flow in your veins by now.

Our Bench

The way we make our next masterpiece is using our special bench. It's where all the materials need to be gathered so when the time comes, we can work away without any interruptions. To do this, and get it ready to be used, it needs to contain at least 20 of each of the following:

  • Glass
  • Plastic
  • Steel
  • Wood
  • Plasteel

We should keep the stock around 30-40 sheets of each so each of us can use the bench for a period without having to restock but also are ensuring we're not being a drain on the Club's resources early into the shift when materials are all-around limited.

Crafts (In case I forget [again])

The specifics of what I could be making are always hazy (I should really knock off the booze) but they can be categorized into the following:

  • Guns: Revolvers and pistols of every variety taking anything from regular .35 to Shotgun Shells, .60 AMR, Grenade or even RPG rounds (FUN).
  • Oddities: Relics of all kinds that will often be better that what is available even to the Guild during their best days. Highly sought after.
  • Tool/Gun Mods: Attachments that could make a shovel fit in one's pocket or reduce kickback on a gun. The effects can vary significantly.
  • Gun Parts: Miscellaneous pieces desired for their versatility by outside traders.
  • Armor Parts: Fabrics ready to be used in armor. Useful for both crafting armor or exporting to enthusiasts off-ship.
  • Statues: A tall carving of one or more of the crew's inhabitants showcasing a story. Great decorations but can also be sold to collectors.

Notes to self

  • I must use a minimum of 40 insight points to make a piece of artwork but using more or less of your total insight will affect the outcome. Experiment.
  • Mix Space drugs with other drugs such as psilocybin for MORE FUN.
  • If alcohol isn't enough and I can't afford the drugs, the Manager will often be willing to provide a sum to help me help them become richer in the long run.
  • Selling my art to the guild is also an extremely profitable endeavour, and should be pursued whenever possible.
  • I should remember that we keep backup circuit boards for our bench in our lockers. Use it as a replacement or to setup a second art station if we can afford it.

Reading Material

My crayon is running out. Whoever made me write this is a fu

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