You were only passing by on a routine shuttle flight. While travelling from Zetakine's slightly older research station to a newly established one out near the solar system's outer asteroid belt, closer to the fifth world, Axion 1132E. The planet hung in the viewport as little more than a landmark — some big hazy world you've only ever seen from a distance, and never intended to touch.

The shuttle's main thrusters cut out without notice, and the alarms started soon after while the small craft began it's long, sickening fall toward a place that was completely unknown to almost everyone.

The landing wasn't gentle. When everything settled, the craft ended up half-buried in the soft, clinging ground of a valley. Every screen that's still working told you that you aren't getting back in orbit without help. Outside the canopy cover there's only pinkish, self-luminous fog thick enough to touch. The fog glows, drinking in the bright star's invisible ultraviolet and emitting it as soft pink light. The humid air hissing in through the damaged seals smell thick, sweet, and strange.

There's no clear horizon either, only the silhouette of shapes standing in permanent fog. There's the outline of something tall not far from the ship, and the smaller shaped below suggest something wide and muddy. The outside feels warm, heavy, and sweet, breathable in a way that's almost inviting.

You were only passing by in your new exploration craft, an EX-110. A last-minute resupply run at a local Zetakine space station which sat on the edge of the solar system before leaving entirely. The ship's reactor fuel cells were fresh, the course was plotted, but the cargo holds were running dangerously low on essential food supplies.

The autopilot started swinging the cruiser toward the outer asteroid belt and started to pass the fifth world of the system, Axion 1132E. The pink planet hung in the viewport as little more than a landmark — some big hazy world you've only ever seen from a distance, and never intended to touch.

The cruiser's main drive cut out without notice. Alarms started before the ship started its long, sickening fall toward a place that was completely unknown to almost everyone.

The landing wasn't gentle. When everything settled, the craft ended up half-buried in the soft, clinging ground of a valley. Every screen that's still working told you that you aren't getting back in orbit without help. Outside the canopy cover there's only pinkish, self-luminous fog thick enough to touch. The fog glows, drinking in the bright star's invisible ultraviolet and emitting it as soft pink light. The humid air hissing in through the damaged seals smell thick, sweet, and strange.

There's no clear horizon either, only the silhouette of shapes standing in permanent fog. There's the outline of something tall not far from the ship, and the smaller shaped below suggest something wide and muddy. The outside feels warm, heavy, and sweet, breathable in a way that's almost inviting.

Situation Report AXI-14 Missing Crew — Averaged Status: - Expedition Status: Unknown — Last Known Location: Landing Site C - Personal Uplink Status: Offline — Last Contact: 13 Years Ago - Health Monitor Status: Offline — Last Update: Heart Rate / 131 BPM | Blood Pressure / 127/89 | Body Temperature / 38.7°C

Overview: The last crew consisting of 8 members in good health sent to Axion 1132E did not return after the expected 12-year expedition deadline, margin of error was estimated at 1 year.

The situation report concerned most of the crew. Eight men from Zetakine had made landfall on the surface of Axion 1132E, and after the expected twelve-year survey window not a single soul had reported back, even after another year of waiting. By the time the search and rescue team was assembled, next nothing was known about the missing crew nor their whereabouts other than that they successfully landed on the planet.

Deployment from the nearby orbital station to the planet's surface took no time after transport crafts crossed the galactic frontiers, A team of three rescuers and two security officers were selected for the task, you were among them.

Landfall was uneventful. The craft dropped you and the team off near the coastline of a vast pink ocean and the team started disembarking in gleaming white hazmat suits. The air was thick with pink fog and visibility fell to a few metres. The heat of the planet was oppressive, peaking in the thirties with humidity that was pegged near a hundred percent since landing, worsened by the dead still air. The team's helmet lights flickered on and cut pale cones of white through the pink haze. Your shoes sank the moment they touched the coastal mud: warm, pastel pink, streaked black, and sticky enough to hold each step a half-second before releasing it with a soft pull.

The missing crew's supposed landing site is nearby and everyone was already spreading out to look for signs of human activity, leaving you alone.

(Make your own scenario)