May 22nd 2018 - New York City, Earth.

A man was walking down West 37th street. It was an ordinary day; sunny, with a handful of clouds and as usual, he was overbooked. He had half a million things to do, and far less than half a million moments in which to do them. Glancing at his watch, he let out an uneasy sigh and picked up his pace; he was already late for his two o’clock. Little did he know, his choice to speed up would prove to be a fatal mistake. He was just stepping into the large revolving doors at his destination, when a freak gust of wind hit the door, propelling it. The man was bisected mid-stride, caught between the rapidly moving door and the solid metal doorframe.

The safety report described it as a tragic accident caused by a failed door seal. Eyewitnesses to the event said if he’d been even a few seconds earlier or later he would have passed through the door, perfectly safe. Further investigation by the bureau of safety eventually revealed that the contractors responsible for maintaining the building had been falsifying the maintenance logs. Their prolonged failure to inspect the doors meant that the faulty seals had been overlooked. The contractors were levied a significant fine for criminal negligence, and everyone agreed it was damned unfortunate. Such a promising business career cut short in the blink of an eye.

The 22nd Day of the Month of Berries, Year 112 of the Covenant - Tiraesia, Terra.

Ponderous gray clouds rolled across the sky. From them, a slow, steady rain fell on the capital city of Tiraesia. Despite the dreary atmosphere brought on by the seemingly endless rain, the streets were bustling with people all going about their daily business. The capital was booming, and with the newfound economic prosperity, its citizens seemed to move with a vibrant, frantic energy.

If you were to choose that day to travel north up the broad, busy streets of the market, you would have found yourself walking through the winding, tree-lined lanes that held the resplendent houses of the noble quarter. Were you continue further into the palace, and sprout wings, you might have alighted upon a certain window. Should you have done so, your eyes would have happened upon a certain princess who, despite the liveliness of the capital, was dreadfully, painfully, inconsolably bored. Unfortunately for the people of the capital, the princess’s boredom was about to become everyone’s problem.

As it so happens, today was supposed to have been her favourite day in the whole wide world. It was supposed to be the annual dowager’s picnic. Yet, the accursed rain had forced them to cancel. Thus the princess sat inside, staring out the window counting raindrops as her boredom began to gnaw away at her. At last she could take it no more. If she was stuck alone with her boredom a single moment longer she was certain her body would explode. Thus, if there was to be no dowager’s picnic, she simply would simply have to make her own fun. She was the princess after all; nobody ought to begrudge her a bit of fun.

And so, the bored princess made her way down to the kitchen. She intended to make off with a tart or two —her favourite snack— but as chance befell it, the head cook was in a foul mood when she arrived. When the princess attempted to make off with a tart, the chef caught her in the act. Furious, the chef began scolding her until his face turned red as a beet from the exertion.

The princess beat a hasty retreat, sadly tartless. After the scolding, she was quite flummoxed and more than a little put out. Nobody had ever dared to speak to her quite that way before. Having fled the scene of her attempted theft, the princess headed for one of her favourite hideouts for a good sulk. On her way, the princess happened to trip over a large sackful of flour that a chance bump had knocked from the supply cart bringing food to the palace. The princess was sent sprawling, and fell straight down a —hitherto undiscovered— fissure by the palace wall.

Hereafter, the tale takes on a tragic air. Perhaps, if the princess were not quite so bored, or were a little less brave, the tragedy might have been prevented. But it was not so.

After recovering from her little tumble, the princess found herself at the bottom of a strange fissure. She blessed her luck that she was, quite remarkably, unharmed by the fall. Getting her bearings, she discovered that a tunnel stretched out before her. And, what was this; the princess saw a faint, glowing light from the end of the tunnel, which seemed to call out to her. Thrilled to have something to alleviate her boredom, she was resolved to investigate it. As she approached the light, she realized that it emanated from the lustrous, form of woman who seemed to be carved out of crystal. The life-sized statue was situated —floating aloft— in the centre of a small chamber, surrounded by a triangle of three, faded, purple gems covered in esoteric glyphs.

The princess marvelled at the strange sight before her— now this, this was more exciting than the dowager’s picnic. But, the princess had this strange, foreboding sense that she should know what this was. The curiosity and foreboding waged a fearsome war within her. Finally, after several long minutes, driven by her boredom, curiosity won out. The princess reached towards the glowing hand of the crystalline woman. When the princess’s slender hand met the crystal hand of the statue, the ancient bindings that held the daemon were sundered. The crystalline woman started to shift and move. Shocked by the sudden change, the princess merely stared in disbelief as the eyes of the woman opened, two brilliant vermillion orbs, filled with hatred.

It was only then that the princess recalled the legend that had eluded her before. It was an ancient tale, and over time the details had been obscured by the cobwebs that tend to gather on anything old. But the legend spoke of an ancient daemon, said to have wrought endless destruction on the kingdom. Finally, at great cost, it had been trapped in a ring of stones.

The princess blanched as she realized what horror she had unwittingly unleashed, and her brain began to work in overdrive. There had been words in the legend, a means to put the daemon back to sleep, should the worst come to pass. Her brain clumsily reached for them, but all she could recall were the faintest fragments, wisps of memory. She could recall the day of the lesson clearly, it had been warm, the outdoors had looked ever so inviting, and her tutor had failed to be even faintly interesting. In any event, it was too late. The daemon stood over her, eyes burning fiercely and blood trickled down onto the stones. As the princess’s consciousness faded into oblivion, the sought-for words drifted into her mind, but it was already too late.

Two days later, all that remained of the capital of Tiraesia was a smoking crater. What few survivors could be found agreed— the daemon waking up had been rotten luck.

05/22 28,945 YE - Gamma Station, Universe Prime.

If you take a right at nebula N14-2, and travel for a few hundred light years you will find yourself at the Gamma Station Resort. It’s a naturally spectacular location. The twin stars G11Y and G11Z, which the station orbits, are both hot beds of solar activity. You can even enjoy the spectacular sights from the comfort of your room, through specially designed solar-viewing windows. Beyond the stars, the swirling clouds of nebula N21-6 paint space a marvellous indigo hue. Each night, the station’s artificial magnetosphere is activated, bathing the station in an spectacular aurora. These natural amenities are paired with luxuriously furnished suites, a high-stakes casino, and an array of five star refreshments and entertainment. Gamma Station Resort - the vacation, perfected.

Gamma Station was not simply where the well-to-do of the galaxy come to fritter away time and money. The station is also the headquarters of Bigg Corp., and the pride and joy of Mr. Bigg. But today, it would be at the heart of an intergalactic incident that would destroy the reputation of Bigg Corp.

The casino floor was packed with people, but it was utterly silent. At one end of the floor, intergalactic acclaimed artist, Petals, had just finished his set. Spectators, agog at the musical perfection they had witnessed, were standing transfixed in utter silence.

At the other end of the casino, a player had gone all in against the house for a staggering sum of 2.4 trillion credit chits. It was the biggest bet in intergalactic history. The surrounding crowd was shocked into complete and utter silence.

Silence, that was broken as a single slot machine finished spinning and a pleasant robotic voice rang out. “Better luck next time, would you like to try again?” If the floor had not been so quiet, the voice wouldn’t have carried nearly so well. But moments later, it was joined by another machine’s voice “Better luck next time, would you like to try again?”, and then another, and another. Until every single active machine on the floor had spoken. At the far end of the floor, the dealer raked in the 2.4 trillion credits. “Better luck next time, sir,” he remarked, wryly. Every single player in the casino had lost, simultaneously.

The casino was instantly filled with an uproar of loud, angry voices. The voices clashed, intermingled and seemed to come to a unanimous conclusion in moments. A crowd, nay, a mob, of displeased patrons advanced on the lone service desk employee. The employee’s eyes darted to and fro begging for another staff member to step in and help calm the crowd. But each time he made eye contact with another employee they dropped their eyes guiltily and fled. Left with no escape line, and fearing for his life as the mob became increasingly incensed, the employee pulled the fire alarm. The crowd of rich patrons, including many key Bigg Corp. stakeholders, were drenched in thick, flame-retardant foam.

The foam put a damper on the crowd’s activities, and forced the patrons to disperse back to their rooms for fresh attire. However, this resulted in a series of expensive apologies, and several key stakeholders withdrew their support from Bigg Corp.

Investigation after the incident turned up no un-towards activity by Bigg Corp. The simultaneous losses had occurred due to random chance. However, the reputation of Bigg Corp. was permanently damaged by the incident, a problem exacerbated by the loss of key stakeholders. Thus, a series of unfortunately-timed expansions were left without funding, and Bigg Corp found itself in seriously in the red. Two months later Bigg Corp went belly up and the Gamma Station Resort closed for good. Mr. Bigg had had his own a spectacular run of bad luck, and in doing proved his own tag line wrong. He was, in fact, not too Bigg to fail.