11 members
The Mischievous Simpletons / SIMPLETONS
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Freelancing -
Social
Founded on failure. Defined by flight. Feared by ATC.
Low, fast, and out of control—just the way we like it.
History
Mischievous Simpletons
Freelance Organization | Est. 2937 | Operating on the Edge of Chaos
History & Origins
The Mischievous Simpletons was born in 2937 in the tunnels of Levski, the aftermath of a salvage op gone so wrong it somehow worked. A miscalculated re-entry, a client double-cross, and a cargo hold full of contraband led to an unplanned partnership between four freelancers who had no business trusting each other—but did anyway.
The founders—The_Designated_Decoy, Sinzy, Getkunked, and Magnificentmick—weren’t looking to start anything permanent. But after surviving a dozen impossible contracts and getting paid on most of them, they realized they’d stumbled onto something real: a crew too unpredictable to kill, too smart to catch, and too chaotic to ignore.
And so, the Mischievous Simpletons was born—equal parts salvage outfit, freelance troublemakers, and thrill-seeking lunatics.
Philosophy
“If no one dies, it’s not a story worth telling.”
The Simpleton way isn’t about control or conquest—it’s about surviving the impossible, laughing while doing it, and walking away with something valuable (or at least hilarious). The organization takes jobs others won’t touch: gray-zone recon, deep salvage, espionage, and loud, reckless escort runs.
They don’t follow rules. They don’t ask permission. And if a plan doesn’t involve at least one borderline-illegal maneuver and a high-speed getaway, it’s probably not worth doing.
Cultural Hallmark: Low Flying Lunacy
Low flying isn’t just a skill in the Simpletons—it’s a religion.
Skimming canyons at breakneck speed, threading through forests and derelict cities, dive-bombing security patrols for fun—it’s how they train, relax, and prove themselves. A proper Simpleton isn’t just a good pilot—they’re a lunatic with a throttle.
Low-flying races, called “Coffin Runs,” are a common internal challenge, with titles awarded based on style, near-death moments, and pilot banter. Crashing isn’t disqualifying—only crashing boringly is.
Notable Incidents
The Lost Jump of Cathcart (2942): Discovered and exploited a collapsing jump point for exclusive salvage access. How they found it? Probably by flying too low and too fast through something they shouldn’t have.
The Hurston Honey Trap (2945): Faked data, baited three corp intel teams, and escaped in a racing ship skimming the cityscape at 12 meters AGL. Hurston Dynamics now has a shoot-on-sight policy.
Operation Broken Gear (2949): Hijacked an AI by parking a heavily modified Prospector inside a shipyard reactor core—after flying through a gap that wasn’t there until Getkunked made it with mining charges.
Structure & Culture
There’s no official rank. Power flows to whoever’s fastest, cleverest, or holding the only working quantum drive. Loyalty is expected, betrayal is tolerated (if it’s funny), and competence is optional—but style is mandatory.
New members, known as “Jesters,” are initiated with a low-fly trial. Survive a Coffin Run through a storm system, a canyon, or a minefield—bonus points if you make it out with souvenirs or they must prove they’re more useful than explosive. Or explosively useful.
Allies & Enemies
Allies: Anyone with a plan worse than ours, or credits they want to gamble on mayhem.
Enemies: Any pilot who asks “What’s our altitude?”, ATC, and the Ground.
Manifesto
Written in the wake of a detour, during a blackout, while upside-down.
We are the Mischievous Simpletons.
We weren’t born in boardrooms, bred in boot camps, or built by bureaucracy.
We came together in the wreckage—crawling out of flaming hulls, bad plans, and worse odds—and realized something simple:
This is more fun when it’s not safe.
We believe in chaos.
Not the kind that destroys everything—but the kind that upsets the system.
The kind that outsmarts the smug, outruns the organized, and outlives the inevitable.
Every so-called “perfect system” needs a glitch.
We are that glitch.
We are the rerouted ping, the stolen beacon, the explosive punchline to your corporate protocol.
We fly low. Always.
Above the dirt, below the radar.
Because there’s no better way to find out what you’re made of than scraping your hull against the bones of old worlds at full throttle.
Altitude is for cowards.
We trust gravity just enough to insult it.
We don’t follow orders. We follow instincts.
Chain of command? We broke that chain and sold the links as scrap.
We answer to the mission, the moment, and each other.
If you’ve got a better plan, speak up—just be ready to prove it at 1,200 meters per second with flares in your teeth.
We value loyalty—but expect betrayal.
Just make it entertaining.
If you’re going to stab someone in the back, at least do it with flair.
We forgive cleverness, reward guts, and avenge stupidity with practical jokes that last for years.
We are not mercs. We’re not pirates. We’re not heroes.
We’re something else.
We’re what happens when skill meets insanity, and both get bored.
We’re the last call before the plan burns, the first laugh after it does, and the only crew in the ‘verse crazy enough to try again.
We don’t leave a legacy. We leave a mess.
Wreckage. Rumors. Untraceable pings.
A story someone will swear is a lie—until they meet us.
We fly low, think fast, shoot second, and laugh last.
If you want safety, call the UEE.
If you want order, file a ticket with Hurston.
If you want results, hire someone else.
But if you want the impossible done badly, beautifully, and somehow successfully—
—you call the Mischievous Simpletons
Charter
Filed nowhere. Signed in laser burns.
Article I – Name & Nature
The organization shall be known as the Mischievous Simpletons, a freelance collective operating on the fringes of law, logic, and conventional wisdom.
We are not a corporation. We are not a syndicate.
We are a problem with thrusters.
Article II – Founding
This chaos was co-founded in 2937 by the original four misfits:
The_Designated_Decoy – Chaos tactician and distraction specialist; whether he’s baiting bounty hunters or outrunning sentries, if he’s on fire, it’s probably on purpose.
Sinzy – Precision pilot and aerial anarchist; if it’s fast, flies low, and shouldn’t legally fit through that gap, Sinzy’s already halfway through it.
Getkunked – Demolition artist and bomber pilot with a flair for overkill; believes there’s no problem that can’t be solved with a well-placed… or poorly placed explosion and a better getaway plan.
Magnificentmick – Tactical realist and sarcastic devil’s advocate; the only voice of reason—routinely ignored, usually right.
Their founding principle? “That was awesome. Let’s do it again, but faster.”
Article III – Purpose
The purpose of the Mischeievous Simpleton is to:
Exploit Opportunity – We take contracts no one else will touch. If it sounds like a trap, it’s probably interesting.
Defy Convention – The moment we follow a rule, we rewrite it.
Celebrate Survival – We honor each mission not by how cleanly it was done, but by how hilariously it almost wasn’t.
Fly Dangerously Low – Low flying is our art form, our therapy, and occasionally our exit strategy.
Article IV – Membership
§1 – Titles & Roles
Rogue Asset – Technically not a member… officially. Operates off-grid, answers to no one, shows up unannounced, and leaves a trail of completed objectives, broken rules, and unfiled reports. Denied by command. Missed by everyone.
Jesters – New recruits. Must prove they’re more useful than explosive. Or explosively useful.
Simpletons – Full members. Earned by surviving at least one mission that went sideways.
Wildcards – Unpredictable operatives with no fixed role but a reputation for pulling off the impossible, often unintentionally. Sometimes they’re a liability. Sometimes they’re the reason the mission worked. Usually both.
Archivists of the Absurd – Keepers of our most ridiculous exploits, worst ideas, and flight recorder black boxes. Also responsible for making up better versions if the truth is too boring.
Mayhem Council – Temporary leadership roles assumed during missions, awarded via consensus, sabotage, or drunken vote.
§2 – Admission Criteria
Must demonstrate:
Reckless creativity.
Basic flying competence (bonus points for canyon proximity).
A strong stomach and a weak respect for authority.
Initiation Task may include, but is not limited to:
Low-fly infiltration.
Impersonating a UEE officer.
Smuggling something weird.
Betraying another Jester in a memorable way.
Article V – Conduct & Ethics (sort of)
Loyalty is expected. Betrayal is tolerated. Boring is punished.
Do not kill another Simpleton… unless it’s really funny.
All disputes may be settled through low-flying duels, prank wars, or dramatic speeches.
Never leave a crewmate behind. Except during comedy setups.
Respect the chaos. Embrace the crash. Sell the salvage.
Article VI – Operations
No Headquarters. If we settle down, we stagnate.
Mobile Ops. All major decisions are made en route, in orbit, or mid-chase.
Preferred Contracts: Salvage, smuggling, recon, sabotage, extraction, and improvised warfare.
Unwritten Rule: If we can solve a problem with a stupid idea that works, it’s officially policy.
Article VII – Enemies, Friends, & Everyone Else
Enemies: Any pilot who asks “What’s our altitude?”, ATC, and the Ground.
Allies: Anyone with a plan worse than ours, or credits they want to gamble on mayhem.
Article VIII – Amendments
This charter may be updated, rewritten, ignored, or defaced at any time, provided it results in laughter, chaos, or tactical advantage.
Any proposed amendment must be submitted via in-flight message during a low-fly run and seconded by someone screaming.
Signed in dishonor, by drifting signal and broken laws.
We are the Mischievous Simpletons. We’re not here to last. We’re here to leave a mark.
