Signal in the Smog [Game Solo Report]
A silent defiance. Two workers. One forbidden message — and no way back.
Vene & Bite Minigame – First Official Playtest
📍 This is the first field report from Rebel Candidate, my solo-cooperative narrative game set in the dystopian universe of Star Wars RPG (FFG).
Designed to combine social critique, aesthetic resistance, and covert action, the system was tested in Myomar with two civilian characters: Verse Vene and Gavin Bite.
🎴 Below, you can access the full character sheets and follow how simple — or seemingly simple — decisions can set irreversible movements into motion.
Gavin Bite and Verse Vene didn’t know each other.
They were just two ordinary inhabitants of Myomar on their day off, climbing up from the depths of Subterranean Zone 3 toward the surface. Each had their own reasons — maybe curiosity, maybe routine. He, an industrial technician used to the hum of machinery. She, a corporate worker conditioned to smile in silence. They followed separate paths until they converged in the Cultural Zone.
It was there, in the transition area between the administrative blocks and the forgotten passages of the underground, that the Empire revealed its rawest face.
A student tried to hand out pamphlets. He spoke of dignity, of memory, of freedom.
The response came in fury: a COMPNOR security team surrounded him, brought him down, and beat him in front of everyone. No one reacted — only the muffled sound of blows and the hurried footsteps of those who looked away.
When the patrol withdrew, the silence was absolute. Pamphlets were scattered across the cracked pavement. Gavin and Verse, without exchanging a word, stepped closer and picked one up.
On the back, something no system could ever erase: encoded instructions.
Three paths revealed themselves: propaganda, agitation, or sabotage.
And none of them allowed return.
Verse gripped the pamphlet tightly. Her eyes still fixed on the spot where the student had been dragged. Gavin lit an industrial cigarette with trembling hands.
He stared at the broken escalator that forced them to climb the metal steps of the interzone. Breathed deeply, still short of breath. The bitter taste of impotence clung to his mouth.
“I’ve seen bad things in the factories,” he murmured. “Covered-up accidents. People vanish and no one asks. But this… this was different.”
Verse walked beside him, measured steps, distant gaze. She didn’t need to answer. Silence was enough.
“It was public,” she finally said, coldly. “It was a spectacle. Meant for everyone to see and understand: don’t speak, don’t think, don’t share.”
She pulled the folded pamphlet from her outer pocket. Turned it between her fingers. Three symbols stood out.
“Propaganda. Agitation. Sabotage. This isn’t just a rant… it’s a directive.”
Gavin hesitated.
“Could be bait. A loyalty test. I’ve seen COMPNOR play the pieces before the board is even revealed.”
Verse kept her eyes on the paper.
“And if it’s real?”
“And if it is?” Gavin replied. “You really think two civilians can change anything?”
She answered in the same tone:
“One boy tried. And he was beaten for it.”
The silence that followed was thick. A distant buzz signaled an approaching patrol droid. Gavin flicked his still-lit cigarette at the wall and stamped it out with his boot.
“Cultural Zone should be less monitored at night. We could try tagging a wall. Something they can’t ignore.”
“And if they come after us?”
Gavin looked up for a moment, where a camera rotated mechanically.
“Then it wasn’t in vain.”
Verse took a deep breath. Folded the pamphlet with almost ceremonial precision and placed it in her inner coat pocket.
“No. From now on, nothing is in vain.”
They exchanged a brief nod — formal, almost military. Then separated into the crowd, like two strangers — and accomplices.
Day 1
Turn 1: Work
Routine swallowed them early.
Gavin Bite passed through the industrial gate in his usual uniform, ID badge at chest level, eyes lower than usual.
The boilers were acting up again, and he’d been assigned to a high-voltage maintenance zone — nothing new.
The air reeked of ozone and burnt oil. But something in him was different.
As if, for the first time, his silence wasn’t indifference — but a choice.
With every terminal adjusted, every panel recalibrated, his mind replayed the previous day:
The student’s body on the ground, the flyers spinning in the air, the dull pain in his throat that wasn’t even his.
A supervisor said something — Gavin simply nodded, as if carrying an unnamed task on his shoulders.1
On the other side of the city, Verse Vene moved through narrow corridors and mirrored glass in the administrative sector.
She scanned contracts, answered calls, delivered reports no one would read. All with the same neutral face she’d learned to wear early in life.2
But inside, something pulsed.
The day felt normal — and that was the problem.
Nothing had changed, and yet, everything had.
The beating echoed in the eyes of every employee who looked away, in the automated gestures of a city programmed to obey.
It was as if all of Myomar pretended not to remember — and because of that, deserved to.
In her inner pocket, the flyer was still there. Folded, hidden, alive.
Revolt doesn’t start with a scream.
It starts like this: with two workers who, for a moment, decided not to forget.
Turn 2: Propaganda
On the upper level of the Cultural Zone, diffused light from holo-panels still danced on the rooftops of restored colonial structures — a choreography of imperial aesthetics masking decades of oppression.
It was the end of the shift. Foot traffic waned, replaced by the constant hum of surveillance probes and ad drones looping slogans about order and prosperity.
Gavin Bite arrived first.
Wearing his wrinkled industrial uniform, jacket unzipped, sweat from the day still clinging to him.
He carried a small cylinder — seemingly just a tool, but actually filled with heat-activated paint and embedded binary codes.
He glanced discreetly around, eyes tense beneath the brim of an old cap. Every shadow was a calculated risk.
Verse Vene appeared minutes later, silent, fluid steps, firm gaze.
She wore a disposable mask and thin gloves.
When they stopped in front of a lateral structure — the support wall of a former art observatory, now used for imperial projections — she spoke without looking directly at Gavin:
“Here. The light bounces off the left corner. No direct cameras, and the probes sweep by every three minutes.”
Gavin nodded.
He pulled the cylinder, triggered the heat switch, and handed it to Verse. She painted first.
A simple symbol: a stormtrooper’s shattered helmet, and from inside it, a flower in flames.
Below it, one word: LISTEN — in Aurebesh.
Gavin added what looked like a code — four vertical bars and a dot. He didn’t explain. She didn’t ask.
As they finished, a drone rounded the corner and hovered.
Both froze.
The machine scanned the area, then moved on. Only when its sound faded did Gavin exhale.
“This will leave a mark,” he murmured.
“That’s the point,” Verse replied.
They walked away — slowly, in opposite directions.
They knew it wouldn’t change the world.
But someone would see it.
Someone would feel it.
And maybe, somewhere between the lines, something would begin to move..3
+ Cr Dialy
- Cr Lifestyle
⚙️Pool: 🟡🟢🛑🔷Mechanics (Int 2, Rank 1): 🟡🟢+🟦 (Tools) Full Challenge: Upgrade Dificulty x1 (🔷→🛑): +200% Daily Cr RESULT: : Sucesso e 1 Desvantagem: +120 Cr, ⬛ on next day work.
⚙️Pool: 🟡🟢🟢🛑🔷: Charm (Pres 2, Rank 1): 🟡🟢 RESULT: ⬛ on next day work for each. RESULT: : Sucesso 1 Desvantagem:: +135 Cr, ⬛ on next day work
⚙️Pool:🟡🟢🟢+🟦(help)🔷🛑⬛⬛ = BaseTest (Base Skill: Stealth 🔷🔷) + Mod. Zones: 🟥: +⬛⬛ COOPERATIVE TEST RESULT: 1 Success: Gain 1 Rebel Inspiration Point