The Thalorian Arm: Where the Only Law is Leverage
- Department of Propaganda and Experiences
- Feb 20
- 2 min read
Updated: Mar 3
In this galaxy, power isn’t given—it’s owed.
Thalorian Arm isn’t just a hotspot—it’s a pressure cooker where mobs, cartels, and a lone accountant with a vendetta ledger run the show. Leverage isn’t power here; it’s oxygen, swapped in sweaty backrooms and sealed with cement blocks that float like grim trophies of deals gone sour. Corporations muscle trade routes, bounty syndicates hunt debts across lifetimes, and every corner reeks of blackmail you can taste—sweet, sour, and inevitable. It’s a galaxy where loyalty’s a myth, and the only handshake you trust is the one you’re breaking.
Every station’s a payoff, every route’s a turf war, and the air’s thick with favors that outlast your bones. Smugglers thrive if they’re quick, but slip up, and you’re a block bobbing in the void—standard fare for late payers. Mafias stack Wishbones like poker chips, turning desperation into a profit engine that never sleeps. A bug-topped ice cream stall’s the only breather, if you’re dumb enough to linger—most don’t, ‘cause the real rush is dodging the next shakedown.
The Friendly Robot Travel Agency still runs shuttles to Planet Zee, where undead bureaucrats clog the chaos with red tape sharper than a blade—just the way the mobs like it. Whether you’re settling a score, ducking a debt, or bribing your way through Zee’s endless lines, TFRTA’s got your ticket—bring extra Wishbones, ‘cause nothing moves fast except the fallout. This meat market’s a PTU dare you’ll hate to love.
Connections:
Planet Zee → Zombies turn delays into a mobster’s dream.
Wishbones → Stack ‘em high, or sink with the blocks.
Barry, the First Official Sponsor Zombie → Half-a-brain runs Zee’s slow grind from the shadows.
Rick’s Review: “Caught a shuttle here—thought I’d dodge the blocks, ended up dodging a cartel over a spilled ice cream. Brain Bean’s a scam, Miss Planet Zee’s a snooze, and Barry laughed while pocketing my bribe. Brutal hustle, but I’d rather gargle slug juice than deal with this racket again. 2 Tee-Hees—grit’s worth something, just not my Wishbones.”