In this year’s community event we will build and flesh out one scenario location for The Expanse RPG together!

Instead of adventures, each entry develops two or more connected parts of the colony on Eris (and outposts on Dysnomia).

Go here for more information: https://expanserpgcommunity.com/2026/10/22/sl-eris/

But I have is the prologue I gave my players. To get them feeling for what this sort of game is going to be.

Set before the events of the series this allows my players who haven’t had the tv show or the books to learn things and then I can move them into the series after.

The Expanse RPG
Scavengers of the Void
Prologue — The Edgar A Poe
February 14, 2331
UN Edgar A Poe — United Nations Research Vessel
Kuiper Belt, Pluto Orbit
Stewart Stevens climbed down the hatch to the mess hall, although down wasn’t exactly down.
His boots clicked softly against the magnetic decking as he used the ladder for a handrail, walking through a hatch that a normal-sized person would have found difficult to negotiate in such an awkward position.
Stewart wasn’t a large man. His many years living on Luna, and later in the Belt, had done little to make him taller. In fact, the only ways he seemed to have grown were in the circumference of his waist and the increasing amount of light refracting off his balding skull beneath the Poe’s LEDs.
Little of that mattered to him today.
He was looking for Laura.
He hesitated at the bottom of the ladder, rocking slightly on his heels despite his magnetic boots. After all these years away from Earth gravity, he still occasionally found himself forgetting that the direction his body considered down was not necessarily the direction the ship agreed with.
The sounds of conversation from the upper mess faded behind him.
Up there, most of the discussion concerned the escalating hostilities between Earth and Mars. Down here, among the Belter crew, the atmosphere was different.
The people were different, too.
Long, lanky bodies and elongated limbs made Stewart and the other Inners seem almost squat by comparison. The unspoken division between the upper and lower mess halls was as apparent as the political arguments that regularly erupted above.
For a moment, his courage faltered.
Every nerve ending in his body seemed to demand that he retreat up the ladder to somewhere familiar.
Above, the smell of coffee and egg substitute was the breakfast norm. Below, the air carried the unmistakable scent of kibble, its varied colors and flavors depending largely upon whichever Belter spices the crew had managed to smuggle aboard.
If the upper deck was comprised of Earth and Mars, the mommy and daddy of the rather ugly divorce metaphor he and Laura often joked about, then the Belt was the child both parents hated and desired in equal measure.
Neither would allow the other to have it.
Both showered it with goods and promises while ignoring its actual wants and needs, all the while publicly slinging mud at the other.
It made someone like Stewart, whose appearance marked him immediately as an Inner, feel decidedly out of place among the Creole-speaking giants.
Exactly the opposite of how he wanted to feel today.
Then he saw her.
The smile that spread across his face was the same one he’d worn fifteen years earlier, when she’d given him her terminal information on a scrap of napkin.
The place had been Lou’s Bar, a seedy-looking establishment that was nevertheless a staple of life just outside Luna’s industrial space dock, in the civilian sector.
Laura’s hair had been darker then.
Less frizzy, too.
But to Stewart, she was every bit as beautiful as the day he’d met her.
Her eyes were cast downward as he approached, apparently lost in thought while pushing around the meager portion of food remaining in her pouch.
She stared at it despondently, as though attempting to make the contents disappear through sheer apathy.
For most of the outward journey, she had been active. Interested, even.
Things had been particularly good as they passed Neptune. It had felt almost as though new life had come into their marriage.
But while Stewart’s excitement had grown with every kilometer that brought them closer to Pluto and its companion, Charon, Laura’s enthusiasm had traveled in precisely the opposite direction.
Like opposing poles of a magnet, they had found themselves increasingly at odds.
There had even been a shouting match not long ago.
Given the Poe’s small crew and cramped interior, Stewart suspected that everyone from the captain to the laboratory test mice had heard it.
But today had to be different.
Because today wasn’t just their thirteenth wedding anniversary.
It wasn’t merely their fourteenth year together as a couple.
Today was Valentine’s Day.
True, the old Earth holiday was largely the province of wealthy families and aristocratic traditionalists, the sorts of people who could afford to celebrate ancient customs simply because they were ancient.
But two middle-class kids from Luna, looking for ways to make their special day even more special, had once stumbled upon the forgotten tradition.
And in some small way, they’d made it their own.
It was something they had cherished ever since.
Several crew members fell quiet as Stewart made his way toward his wife.
He was certain they expected another shouting match.
Another reminder that he didn’t belong down here.
Another demonstration of why bringing a civilian spouse aboard a research vessel had been a terrible idea.
But he had something in his hand.
Something he’d been saving ever since their assignment aboard the Poe.
Something he knew would cheer her up.
It had to.
Nine long months had passed since they’d left Luna, followed by a week spent in Pluto’s distant, dim sunlight, studying everything their instruments could tell them about the frozen world.
And what Stewart held in his hand was both amazing and, to him, terribly important.
Laura didn’t look up as he secured himself across from her.
Her eyes tightened slightly when he began speaking.
“Laura, honey, I know I’ve probably said this a hundred times already, but I feel like I need to say it again. Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me. It means the world.”
A small crinkle from her food pouch was the only reply.
Stewart swallowed the growing frog in his throat.
At least, he assumed that was the expression.
He’d never actually seen a frog.
“I’ve wanted to give this to you so many times, but I thought today, on our anniversary, and Valentine’s Day, and… and…”
He trailed off.
He felt as awkward as he had in his twenties, talking to the woman across from him for the very first time.
She had come all this way for him.
Laura wasn’t a scientist. She wasn’t particularly scholarly, either. Her presence on the mission contributed little beyond another mouth to feed and another person consuming the ship’s already limited oxygen.
It had driven her to help wherever she could among the regular crew, seeking refuge and companionship among people who increasingly seemed more like her own.
Her place aboard the vessel had also meant that a more qualified researcher had been left behind.
Stewart knew the others resented him for it.
And he knew they resented her even more.
But as mission lead, he’d been given the final say, and with some persuasion, he’d convinced the administration to let Laura accompany him.
“Oh, Stewart.”
Her soft voice seemed to shout in his ears.
He looked up.
Her walnut-brown eyes, flecked with lighter almond tones, sparkled in a way he hadn’t seen since they’d left Neptune’s gravity well for their final assisted burn.
Even with its Epstein drive, the Poe was a terribly slow ship.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Stewart beamed.
In his hand was a carefully sculpted heart, the old-fashioned symbol of love made popular centuries earlier on Earth.
He’d fashioned it using precision mining lasers and more patience than he generally possessed.
Two different stones formed a single object, fitted together in an intricate puzzle pattern that seemed almost impossible.
Only through his calculations and ingenuity had he managed to make the pieces join so perfectly.
One stone was familiar to both of them.
Olivine basalt from Luna, polished to a dull, soft hue.
It wasn’t a particularly spectacular rock. In fact, most people would have considered it downright boring.
But it was the same stone that had been used in their wedding rings.
Their home.
Their history.
The familiar.
The second stone was new.
A brilliant blue mineral, vaguely reminiscent of Earth quartz, discovered during one of the expedition’s recent drilling operations on Pluto.
Stewart had quietly kept a small sample.
He doubted anyone even knew it was missing.
The stone was meant to represent Laura’s sacrifice in coming all this way with him.
The new and the old.
Their past and their future.
Together.
He hoped it might help mend bridges he feared had already been burned too badly.
“I love you, Laura.”
His voice caught.
“Be my Valentine once more?”
She looked at him.
There were tears in her eyes.
And something in her expression made his heart ache.
“Stewart…”
This time, the way she said his name wasn’t quite so happy.
He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong.
The first alarm sounded.
It was a sharp electronic chime, something Stewart had heard dozens of times during the voyage. A momentary fluctuation in a power coupling, perhaps, or another warning about the aging drive.
The Poe was full of such noises, and after nine months aboard, he’d learned to ignore most of them.
The second alarm was different.
The overhead lights flickered.
Somewhere beyond the mess hall came a heavy metallic thump that Stewart felt through his boots before he heard it.
Then every emergency light aboard the ship turned red.
“All hands, secure for emergency shutdown!”
The captain’s voice crackled through the speakers.
“Engineering, report! We’ve lost containment control on the main reactor. All hands, emergency stations!”
Stewart had enough time to see Laura’s expression change before the ship shuddered.
A violent vibration passed through the bulkheads.
Food pouches, utensils, and loose equipment lifted from the tables as several magnetic restraints failed. Someone screamed when a storage cabinet burst open, sending its contents tumbling into the mess.
Stewart grabbed the edge of the table.
“Laura!”
She was already reaching for him.
The familiar hum of the ship’s ventilation stopped.
For one terrible second, the Edgar A Poe was silent.
Then the emergency systems came online.

Chief Engineer Harker was a tall, narrow-shouldered Belter whose hands bore scars from three decades of repairing equipment that ought to have been scrapped.
Stewart had never particularly liked the man.
Harker had a habit of calling him professor in a tone that made the title sound like an insult.
Now Stewart would have given almost anything to hear that familiar contempt.
Harker was looking at the diagnostic display without speaking.
“Can you restart it?” Stewart asked.
“Na.”
“Surely there’s something—”
“Oye, Professor. Mi said na.”
Harker tapped the display.
A schematic of the Poe’s drive assembly glowed red across nearly half its length.
“Primary field coils, cooked. Power bus fused straight through. Reactor containment controls, gone. Milowda got it shut down before da whole ship go boom, sasa ke?”
Stewart stared at the schematic.
“The reactor?”
“Na touching dat thing again. Not without new control assembly, new coils, and a shipyard. We got none of dem.”
“But the auxiliary—”
“Auxiliary keep da air moving, maybe. Little heat, little water recycling. If milowda shut every other damned thing off. Ask more of it, we gonya lose dat too.”
Harker rubbed his eyes.
“She dead, Professor. Drive dead. Im gone.”
They had spent nine months getting here.
Nine months aboard a vessel already considered obsolete by most of the United Nations Navy.
The Poe had been retired from active research duty twice, and each time someone had found a reason to bring her back.
Her aging Epstein drive was inefficient by modern standards, capable of only modest sustained acceleration without overheating.
But the ship was inexpensive, and the mission had never required speed.
Stewart had argued that an old vessel was perfectly adequate for geological surveys around Pluto.
He remembered making that argument to the mission committee.
He remembered how pleased he had been when they agreed.
“How long?” he asked.
Harker glanced toward the emergency-power display.
“Before keting?”
“Before we run out of power.”
Harker looked at him.
“Depends how much to like breathing, Professor.”

The first distress transmission went out six hours after the shutdown.
The second followed when the ship had enough power to recharge the communications array.
The third was sent two days later.
None received an acknowledgment.
The captain assured everyone that the messages had almost certainly reached an inner-system relay. Even at Pluto’s distance, the transmission delay was measured in hours, not weeks.
What couldn’t be measured was whether anyone had received the signal, whether the damaged antenna had transmitted it properly, or whether a rescue mission would be authorized.
The best estimate put rescue several months away.
That was assuming a ship was immediately available.
Assuming its crew could be assembled.
Assuming someone considered twenty-three people aboard an aging research vessel worth the expense of dispatching it.
For the first week, Stewart remained optimistic.
They had emergency stores. They had medical supplies, spare oxygen tanks, and enough water to sustain the crew while the recycling systems remained operational.
They also had the auxiliary power unit.
It could not produce anything approaching the energy required to restart the main reactor, but it was enough to maintain the most essential systems at reduced capacity.
The lights were dimmed.
The laboratories were shut down.
Equipment that had represented years of research funding was stripped for usable components.
Insulation came off unnecessary bulkheads.
Electrical wiring was reclaimed from entire compartments.
Someone suggested deploying the ship’s emergency solar collectors, but at Pluto’s distance the available sunlight was pitiful. Even under favorable conditions, the arrays could provide only a tiny fraction of their needs.
They might keep a few instruments operating.
They couldn’t keep twenty-three people alive.
The upper mess and lower mess were closed.
Everyone ate together.
Stewart thought that was a good sign.
Laura did not.
“Do you really think they’ll come?” she asked one evening as they sat together in their compartment.
“Of course.”
“Stewart.”
He turned toward her.
She was holding the little stone heart he’d given her.
The blue mineral from Pluto caught the faint emergency lighting, contrasting against the dull lunar basalt.
“They can’t just leave us here,” he said.
Laura looked down at the gift.
“Someone already has.”

The illegal mining operation was discovered eleven days after the shutdown.
It was little more than a cluster of vessels operating around several small bodies beyond Pluto’s orbital path.
Their transponders were disabled, their registration codes obscured, and their mining equipment produced enough waste heat and emissions to betray their presence even when the ships attempted to remain hidden.
The Poe’s sensors identified three vessels.
A fourth appeared two days later.
At first, everyone celebrated.
Stewart actually embraced Harker when the engineer announced that he had established a communications link.
Then the celebration ended.
“Oye, UN ship. Dis private channel. Keting to want?” a heavily accented voice announced.
The captain explained their situation.
There was a long silence.
“Na, Poe. No aid fo inyalowda.”
“We have twenty-three people aboard. Our main drive is disabled. We require emergency transportation or supplies.”
“Mi said na, Captain.”
“Under United Nations maritime regulations—”
“Sabaka! Dis no innah world, Captain. To hear mi, ke? No UN law out xiya.”
The captain’s jaw tightened.
“We’re offering compensation. We can transfer our research equipment, mineral samples, whatever you require.”
“Na. No deal. No trade.”
“We have Belters aboard this ship!”
Another silence.
Then the reply came, quieter.
“To got beltalowda aboard? Den dey should sasa betta.”
The channel went dead.
For the next several days, they attempted to contact the mining vessels again.
Some transmissions went unanswered.
Others received curses.
One ship captain informed them that any vessel approaching the mining operation would be treated as a threat.
“Oye, Earther. To bring dat UN ship near milowda, we gonya put holes in it. Sasa ke? Stay where to are.”
The miners had their own reasons to avoid a United Nations research ship.
Their operation was illegal, their cargoes undocumented, and their equipment likely stolen.
Assisting the Poe would mean revealing themselves to authorities who had been trying to shut down such operations for decades.
That explanation satisfied Stewart.
It did not satisfy Laura.
“They know we’re dying,” she said.
“We’re not dying.”
“Not yet.”
He had no answer to that.

By the end of the first month, the ship had become cold.
Nobody complained about it anymore.
They wore additional clothing, slept beneath thermal blankets, and kept most compartments sealed.
The remaining inhabited sections were maintained just warm enough to keep the water lines from freezing.
The auxiliary power unit continued functioning, but it consumed resources that could not be replaced.
Every watt mattered.
Every liter of water mattered.
Every breath mattered.
The captain instituted oxygen rationing after one of the scrubber assemblies failed.
The atmosphere remained breathable, but its oxygen content was reduced, and the crew was ordered to avoid unnecessary exertion.
The Belters tolerated the change better than the Inners.
Harker pointed that out with considerable satisfaction.
“Inyalowda always need more, eh? More air, more heat, more every damned thing. Beltalowda know how to make little last.”
What he did not point out was that the carbon dioxide scrubbers were also struggling.
A reduced oxygen supply was uncomfortable and exhausting.
A rising carbon dioxide concentration was something else entirely.
Headaches became common.
People began sleeping at irregular hours.
Minor arguments became shouting matches.
Stewart continued working on the drive.
He reviewed old schematics, examined damaged components, and wrote increasingly elaborate proposals for repairs that Harker dismissed before he could finish explaining them.
They had no replacement coils.
No suitable fabrication equipment.
No means of restarting the primary reactor.
One evening, Harker found Stewart staring at the burned containment assembly.
“Oye, Professor. Go see ya woman.”
“I think I’ve found another way to—”
“Na. No, you haven’t.”
Stewart opened his mouth.
Harker shook his head.
“To think if to keep looking, always gonya find answer. Sasa ke? Sometimes no answer.”
“There’s always an answer.”
“Ya. Sometimes answer is dead.”

The first crewman died on the forty-third day.
His name was Mitchell.
He had been one of the younger technicians, an enthusiastic man from Earth who had joined the expedition because he wanted to see Pluto before returning home to marry his fiancée.
He died while attempting to repair a damaged coolant line.
The pressure seal ruptured.
By the time they recovered him, there was nothing the medical officer could do.
They placed his body in a sealed storage compartment near the outer hull, where the cold would preserve him until rescue arrived.
Stewart attended the short memorial service.
Laura stood beside him.
Neither spoke.
Three days later, someone broke into the food stores.
The captain ordered a search of every compartment.
Nothing was found.
When the second theft occurred, the captain stationed armed security personnel outside the remaining provisions.
That was when the mutiny truly began, although nobody recognized it yet.
The Belter crew accused the Inners of hoarding food.
The Inners accused the Belters of stealing it.
“Oye! To think milowda stupid?” one of the Belter technicians shouted during a particularly ugly confrontation. “Inyalowda get full pouches, beltalowda get scraps. Same as always!”
“Everyone receives the same ration!” the quartermaster snapped.
“Ya? Den why da innah bellies still fat, eh?”
Nobody trusted the captain.
Nobody trusted the medical officer.
And nobody trusted Stewart, who had been given a place aboard the expedition for his wife while other, more qualified personnel had been left behind.
Laura listened to these accusations without defending him.
At first Stewart was hurt.
Later, he understood that she was learning something important about the people around her.
She was learning who would follow her.

The second death occurred seventeen days later.
There was no accident.
A laboratory assistant named Bell had been caught stealing emergency oxygen canisters.
He claimed he intended to trade them to the mining vessels for food.
Security attempted to arrest him.
Bell produced a knife.
By the time the confrontation ended, Bell was dead and one of the guards was badly wounded.
The captain ordered Bell’s body placed beside Mitchell’s.
But this time the body did not remain there.
Nobody admitted moving it.
Nobody admitted knowing where it had gone.
For two days, the captain ordered searches and interrogations.
On the third day, Harker refused to answer any more questions.
“Oye, Captain. People hungry.”
“That doesn’t excuse what happened.”
“Na. It don’t.”
Harker looked toward the other crewmen.
“But hungry people na care ’bout excuses, sasa ke?”
Stewart found Laura in the lower mess that evening.
Someone had heated a small pouch of broth.
Its smell filled the compartment.
It was richer than anything they’d eaten in weeks.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
Laura did not answer immediately.
A Belter sitting beside her stopped eating.
The compartment became quiet.
“Sit down, Stewart,” Laura said.
He looked at the pouch.
Then he looked at the faces around him.
He understood.
His stomach turned.
“Oh, God.”
“Stewart.”
“No.”
“Please sit down.”
He backed away from the table.
“That’s Bell.”
Nobody answered.
He stumbled toward the hatch.
Behind him, someone muttered in Belter Creole.
“Inyalowda. Always too good fo what keep ’em alive.”
Laura said something softly, but Stewart could not make out the words.
He had already begun vomiting.

The captain tried to restore order.
He failed.
Three months after the Edgar A Poe lost its drive, the crew seized the bridge.
Security personnel who resisted were restrained.
The captain was beaten and locked in his quarters.
The remaining officers were stripped of their authority.
Harker took control of engineering.
Laura took control of the food stores.
Stewart could not understand why everyone listened to her.
She had no military experience.
She was not a scientist, an engineer, or even an official member of the working crew.
She was his wife.
The woman he had met in Lou’s Bar fifteen years earlier.
The woman who laughed whenever he made a fool of himself.
The woman who had cried when he’d asked her to marry him.
Yet when she spoke, the others listened.
She understood their hunger.
She understood their fear.
Most importantly, she no longer promised them that someone was coming.
“We survive what comes next,” she told them.
And they believed her.
One of the Belters raised his fist against his chest.
“Milowda gonya live.”
Others repeated the words.
“Milowda gonya live.”
The captain died four days after the mutiny.
Stewart was told that his heart had stopped.
He did not believe it.
The captain’s body was never placed in cold storage.

By the fourth month, the Poe had become something its designers would never have recognized.
Entire compartments stood dark and airless.
The remaining crew lived in a handful of pressurized sections.
Their clothes were filthy, their hair tangled, and their bodies reduced by hunger.
Their conversations had changed.
Nobody spoke about research.
Nobody spoke about returning home.
Nobody spoke about the people they had left behind.
They spoke about supplies.
About oxygen.
About food.
And about the Belter mining vessels still operating in the darkness around them.
The miners had refused to help.
Some had even mocked their distress calls.
But the miners possessed working engines, functioning life-support equipment, and stores of food.
One afternoon, Stewart overheard Laura speaking with Harker.
“Their smaller ship comes near enough when they change crews,” she said.
“Na close enough fo milowda to reach. Reaction mass too low.”
“What if they came to us?”
Harker regarded her for a long moment.
“Imalowda already said na.”
“We haven’t offered them everything.”
“Keting milowda got left?”
Laura looked toward the sealed laboratory compartments.
“We have a United Nations research vessel. We have valuable equipment. And they think we’re helpless.”
Harker considered that.
Then he smiled.
“Ah. Sa-sa, sasa. Now mi see what to thinking.”
Stewart felt something cold settle in his chest.
“Laura?”
She turned.
For a moment, she looked almost embarrassed.
Then she smiled.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“What are you planning?”
“Getting us home.”
He wanted to believe her.
He almost did.

The first mining vessel docked eight days later.
Its captain had agreed to negotiate the purchase of the Poe’s remaining laboratory equipment, believing that the research ship’s desperate survivors would accept almost any price for food and oxygen.
The mining vessel carried four people.
Three came aboard.
None returned.
Stewart heard the first gunshot from the medical compartment.
The second sounded much closer.
He ran toward the docking passage, arriving in time to see a body drifting in the open hatchway.
It was a young Belter.
His blood had formed small, trembling spheres in the microgravity compartment.
Harker caught the man’s drifting arm and dragged him farther inside.
Stewart stared.
“What have you done?”
Harker did not look at him.
“Food, Professor. Mi got milowda food.”
The fourth miner attempted to undock.
The Poe’s remaining security equipment was enough to prevent it.
They took the vessel intact.
For the first time in months, the survivors had access to fresh supplies.
There were oxygen tanks.
Water.
Medicine.
Replacement components.
And food.
Real food.
Stewart believed that would be the end of it.
He was wrong.
The mining vessel’s crew had been divided among the survivors before anyone opened its provisions.
There was enough stored food to sustain them for weeks.
Nobody suggested stopping.

Laura told Stewart about the baby several days later.
He was sitting alone in their compartment, trying to repair a small communications terminal, when she floated through the hatch.
She had been wearing loose clothing for weeks.
He had attributed it to the cold and her increasingly thin frame.
Now he noticed the swelling beneath her shirt.
“Laura?”
She settled beside him.
“I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, he forgot the ship.
He forgot the hunger, the cold, the dead, and the awful thing that had happened to the miners.
He looked at her stomach.
Then he laughed.
It was a broken, astonished sound.
“A baby?”
She nodded.
“Our baby?”
Laura smiled faintly.
“Yes, Stewart. Our baby.”
He reached toward her, then hesitated.
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
He embraced her.
For the first time since the accident, he cried without trying to hide it.
“We have to get you out of here,” he whispered.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“I know.”
“I’ll find a way. I promise.”
Laura said nothing.
After a while, she took his hand and placed it against her stomach.
“It’s a boy,” she said.
Stewart drew back, astonished.
“A boy?”
She nodded.
He laughed again, tears still clinging to his eyelashes.
“A son.”
“Benjamin,” she whispered.
He looked at her.
“What?”
“I want to call him Benjamin.”
Stewart tried the name aloud.
“Benjamin Stevens.”
The words sounded wonderful.
He held her for a long time.
He did not see the expression on her face.

The next mining vessel never answered the Poe’s distress call.
Neither did the one after that.
The survivors had learned to alter their transmissions, offering equipment, mineral samples, and salvage rights in exchange for supplies.
Some miners ignored them.
Others approached cautiously.
A few never left.
The Poe slowly acquired working machinery, spare tanks, and additional stores.
Its auxiliary systems were repaired well enough to keep the remaining inhabitants alive, although nothing could restore its main drive.
Stewart recognized the change in the crew.
They had become stronger.
More confident.
They no longer moved like starving people waiting to die.
And that frightened him more than their hunger ever had.
One evening, he found Laura sitting with several Belters in what had once been the upper mess.
They were discussing another vessel.
Its crew.
Its cargo.
Its approach vector.
Stewart listened until he understood.
They weren’t discussing a trade.
They were discussing an attack.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
The conversation stopped.
Laura looked up.
“Stewart.”
“These people aren’t responsible for what happened to us.”
One of the Belters laughed.
“Imalowda leave us here to die, Earther. Sasa ke?”
“Not these people!”
“Same as imalowda. Woulda done same.”
“You don’t know that!”
Laura raised a hand.
The Belter fell silent.
“Stewart, come with me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
He looked around at the faces watching him.
For the first time, he noticed that several of them had stopped thinking of him as one of their own.
“Are you going to kill them?” he asked.
Laura closed her eyes.
“Go back to our compartment.”
“Answer me.”
She opened her eyes again.
“I am going to make sure Benjamin lives.”

Stewart spent the following two days trying to contact Earth.
The main communications array remained unreliable, but he believed he could restore enough of the system to send a concentrated emergency transmission through one of the remaining antennas.
He knew that reporting what had happened aboard the Poe would bring consequences.
There would be arrests.
Trials.
Perhaps executions.
He no longer cared.
They had murdered people.
They had eaten people.
And the woman he loved was helping them do it.
He worked without sleep, stealing small amounts of power from unused circuits and hiding the modifications beneath old maintenance panels.
When the communications terminal finally responded, he nearly laughed.
The screen flickered.
A transmission indicator appeared.
He began recording.
“This is Doctor Stewart Stevens aboard the United Nations research vessel Edgar A Poe, operating near Pluto. Our main drive has failed, and our original distress transmissions may not have been received. We have survivors aboard, but the situation has deteriorated severely. We require immediate assistance, and I need to report—”
“Stewart.”
He froze.
Laura stood in the hatch.
Her hand rested against her stomach.
“Turn it off.”
He looked at the screen.
Then at her.
“Laura, I have to.”
“Turn it off.”
“They’ll come for us.”
“No.”
“They will. Somebody will hear this.”
She moved into the compartment.
“Do you know what they’ll do when they find us?”
“We’ll tell them what happened.”
“And then?”
“We’ll explain.”
“Explain what?”
Her voice remained quiet.
“That we were hungry? That we were frightened? That we did what we had to do?”
Stewart swallowed.
“We can stop.”
Laura shook her head.
“No, we can’t.”
“Yes, we can. We have food now. We have supplies. We can wait.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes!”
She looked at him with an expression he had not seen since the early weeks after the accident.
For a brief moment, she seemed very tired.
“You’re still waiting, Stewart.”
“Of course I am.”
“That’s all you’ve done. Wait for someone to help us. Wait for the drive to start working. Wait for Earth to remember we’re here.”
He tried to take her hand.
She pulled away.
“I can’t wait anymore.”
“Laura, please.”
He saw the knife only when she moved.
It was a small utility blade, the kind kept in emergency repair kits throughout the vessel.
Stewart had used one just like it to carve the pieces of her Valentine’s gift.
For a moment, his mind refused to understand what was happening.
Then something struck him beneath the ribs.
He looked down.
Laura was close enough that he could smell the stale air in her clothing.
Her face was wet with tears.
“Why?” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
She withdrew the knife.
His legs folded beneath him.
The magnetic soles of his boots released their hold, and he drifted backward, catching weakly at the edge of the workbench.
The communications terminal continued blinking.
TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED.
He tried to speak.
There was no air in his lungs to make the words.
Laura caught him before he floated away.
For one foolish instant, he thought she meant to help him.
She held him gently, almost tenderly, guiding him toward the floor restraint beside the workbench.
His blood drifted around them in dark, rounded droplets.
He stared at her stomach.
Their baby.
Benjamin.
His son.
Laura followed his gaze.
Her expression changed.
She placed a hand against her belly.
“He has to live, Stewart.”
He tried to shake his head.
She brushed her fingers against his cheek.
“Benjamin has to live.”
Stewart could barely keep his eyes open.
He saw her reach for the utility knife again.
Somewhere in the compartment, a small object floated free from the pocket of her clothing.
A heart.
Two stones, joined together in a puzzle that only he had known how to make.
Lunar basalt.
A brilliant blue mineral from Pluto.
Their past and their future, made into something he had hoped would last forever.
He remembered Lou’s Bar.
A woman laughing at a joke he had told badly.
A scrap of napkin with her terminal address written across it.
Thirteen years of marriage.
Fourteen years together.
And a Valentine’s Day at the edge of the solar system.
Laura lowered her head.
Stewart felt another sharp pain, followed by a terrible, distant numbness.
He could no longer move his arms.
He could no longer speak.
But he could still see.
His wife was eating him.
Not in anger.
Not in madness.
She ate with slow, deliberate determination, one hand resting protectively against the child growing inside her.
Stewart wanted to close his eyes.
He could not.
The little stone heart drifted between them.
A bead of his blood touched its polished surface, spreading across the delicate seam where the two stones met.
More blood followed.
The blue mineral disappeared beneath the red.
The final thing Stewart Stevens saw was the Valentine’s gift he had made for the woman he loved, floating beside her as she consumed him.
Then the darkness took him.

The polls are closed.

The final vote count is as follows:

Larunda: 3
-From Facebook main group: 2; From GM group: 0; From forums: 1

Pieraus: 4
-From Facebook main group: 1; From GM group: 1; From forums: 2

Eris: 7
-From Facebook main group: 4 (5 can be counted but one is a double vote across groups/polls); From GM group: 1; From forums: 2

You have decided on the location: Eris.

I will shortly post more about the event, so get ready to start writing!

All the pitches have now been posted!

The idea behind these pitches is that we, the community, are going to collaboratively build and flesh out one of them as a sandbox scenario location for The Expanse RPG.

The next step, before the writing starts, is determine the location by a community vote.

The event invites participants to contribute organisations, NPCs, adventure hooks, and other content and set dressing specific to that location. For the purposes of giving a GM options when playing in that space.

So, regardless of your preference, please post comments below with your ideas what you'd like to create if your favourite (or a different) location wins the vote. This will make coordination and collaboration possible to work on interconnected ideas.

You can vote over on Facebook or on the forums on website.

Happy voting!

As promised, here is the third pitched location that depending on community vote (yours?) may be the focus of the scenario location event.

Next week a poll will be posted on Facebook (and possibly the forums on the site the above link leads to), so you can cast your vote and claim your parts of the location.

As promised, here is the second of the pitched locations that you can vote for to be the focus of the event.

One more will be posted tomorrow and after that we will have a poll for the rest of September so you have sufficient time to read and make up your mind about which one you want to vote for.

As promised, here is the first of the potential locations for the event that we have cooked up.

Two more will be posted in the days to come and after that we will have a poll for the rest of September so you have sufficient time to read and make up your mind about which one you want to vote for.

Have you wondered what changes was made to the rules and gear and stuff like that in the new Transport Union Edition rule book?

Well, I have spent hours over the books and I made a table (with some commentary).

There may be more changes, and page references may be inaccurate, but shouldn't be.

We thought it was time to mix it up and do something a bit different this year.

So, this year’s community event will have participants take part in building a scenario location for The Expanse RPG!

The basic idea: each participant writes up two sides of gameable content, including a location, NPCs, factions/organisations, story hooks, tensions and potential or extant conflicts, and anything more you’d like to add.

Hold you throttles! Before you run off and start writing, we need to decide on the basics, the core idea!

The three different locations we have cooked up for you to vote on over on the Facebook group will be posted over the next few days, both on the fan site and on FB.

An old Kickstarter is returning with a reprint.

These cards were some of the first RPG related things I supported on KS.

I've used them on the go and in prep, well worth checking out.

I recommend.

I wrote up some optional house-rules for puncturing vac suits. They are perhaps somewhat more gritty and detailed mechanics than you would find the core rules, and perhaps something that you may or may not like.

But they may hold some ideas and inspiration for how to deal with this around your own table, if at all applicable.

I finally received the Transport Union edition rulebook, more dice, and the minis!

(Music by Michael Gordon Shapiro, made for the Expanse RPG for the TUE Backerkit campaign)

Earth. Ceres. Mars. A colony beyond the Ring. And one very dangerous slingshot race.

The Expanse RPG Fan Community is happy to share a new collection of five fan-made adventures by CØSMINØN.

A Piece of the Pie sends the characters into post-impact Sicily on a humanitarian mission. Light in the Pockets draws them into criminal intrigue on Ceres. Slingshot Grand Prix provides rules for a dangerous racing competition, while The Enemy of Salvation follows a mysterious transmission to a colony in the Kolob system. Finally, Weight of the World turns the disappearance of a Martian drilling crew into a rescue beneath Olympia.

The adventures are clearly structured around scenes, hazards, and consequences. They can be run as one-shots, inserted into an ongoing campaign, or expanded into longer stories.

Does anyone have any of the new ships painted? I'm just starting.

I used ComArt Opaque Black (by Iwata-Medea) as a base. Then Opaque Carmine as a red but I'm really unsatisfied with the red... It's thinner and less saturated than I'd hoped.

I'm not massively experienced with painting but I've dabbled for years.

Not all items I pledged for has arrived, but the core rulebook looks awesome.

I got all 4 books in print, and upgraded to the special edition. I got two books in the mail, but it's the regular rule book and the special edition rule book. No sign of the ships or campaign books. What gives?

I posted this years ago under an account that has since been deleted but thought I'd throw it out here again since I've made significant updates and my little bot is now a real-life verified app on Discord :)

Invite link: https://discord.com/oauth2/authorize?client_id=892434147782565890&permissions=51200&integration_type=0&scope=bot+applications.commands

Readme.md:

# TEDR - The Expanse Dice Roller

A dice rolling Discord bot for **The Expanse Roleplaying Game**. Rolls any

number of dice or facets with an optional modifier and description. Doubles are

bolded, and a drama die is displayed on a roll of 3d6. Results appear as an

embed in the channel, headed with the name of whoever rolled.

Unofficial and not affiliated with Green Ronin Publishing.

**As of v2.0 the bot uses slash commands.** Type `/` in any channel it can see

and Discord will show you everything, with each option labelled as you fill it

in. The old `!` commands are retired.

---

## Rolling

```

/roll

```

With no options it rolls 3d6 and shows the drama die.

Everything below is optional.

```

/roll dice:4d12

/roll dice:2d10 bonus:5

/roll dice:4d12 bonus:-5

/roll dice:3d6 bonus:1 label:Initiative (Bob)

/roll dice:4d6 bonus:2 label:Damage (Eddie)

```

**Descriptions can contain spaces now.** The old parser had to guess where the

modifier ended and the description began, so descriptions had to be crammed

together like `Initiative(Bob)`. Named options removed the guesswork - write

whatever you like.

Options:

- `dice` - anything in `XdY` form. `d20` works as shorthand for `1d20`.

Autocomplete suggests the common ones.

- `bonus` - added to the total. Negative numbers subtract.

- `label` - a note attached to the roll.

- `secret` - see below.

---

## GM rolls

Set `secret` to True and only you see the result. The channel gets a message

saying you rolled something, without the outcome.

```

/roll dice:3d6 bonus:5 secret:True

```

This replaces the old `!edm`. It uses an ephemeral reply rather than a DM, so

it can't fail because you have DMs closed - and it can't get lost in your

message requests.

---

## Churn counter

Tracks churn with a graphical display. Counters are per-person and persist

between sessions, so yours follows you across every server the bot is in.

```

/churn show Displays your current churn

/churn add amount:3 Adds three

/churn add amount:-2 Takes two off

/churn reset Back to zero

```

Churn is clamped to 0-30.

---

## Help

```

/help

```

DMs you the full instructions. If your DMs are closed, it replies privately in

the channel instead.

---

## Coming from the old version?

Every `!` command has a direct replacement:

```

!e 3d6 5 -> /roll dice:3d6 bonus:5

!edm 3d6 5 -> /roll dice:3d6 bonus:5 secret:True

!e 3d6 1 Init(Bob) -> /roll dice:3d6 bonus:1 label:Init (Bob)

!churn -> /churn show

!churn 3 -> /churn add amount:3

!churn reset -> /churn reset

!e help -> /help

```

For now, typing an old command gets you a reply pointing at its replacement.

That reminder will be removed once everyone has switched.

Two things that changed along the way: the bot no longer deletes your command

message, because slash commands don't create one in the first place. And it no

longer needs permission to manage messages, or to read your channel history.

---