ÇAMLIKÖY was once a functioning corporate world, but it has become enveloped by a maze of twisty little wires, all different.  None of the numerous businesses operating on Çamlıköy could agree on which wiring and communications standards to use, so they each implemented their own.  Every office and home is serviced by dozens of connections, each with a color scheme or braiding that attempts to distinguish it from the others.  Of course, they couldn't even agree on that, so wires from competing companies sometimes look alike.  Maintenance of the tangled cables causes frequent outages, and on occasion overloads cause sparks and fires.  Rather than attempting to deal with the melted mess that results, Çamlıköyers usually just start over with a whole new set of connections, leaving the old ones hanging there.

KRAVTSOV is a planet governed by what might be charitably described as popular sovereignty, or uncharitably described as mob rule.  There are technically officials in charge of everything, but they daren't enact any policies that are even slightly controversial for fear of violence against their person.  So there is at least nearly universal assent to every law on Kravtsov.  In particular, everyone agrees that "growth" is the most important thing to achieve.  This applies quite literally to the growth of the planet itself.  External trade is judged to be beneficial if the imported goods are more massive than the exported goods or services.  Kravtsovans enjoy performing labor in exchange for deliveries from other worlds.  Tourists are welcomed only if they come bearing tangible gifts.

CRAIOVA is an isolated outpost with the singular mission of storing and categorizing all human knowledge in a vast database.  For reasons known only to the Craiovans, this data is stored entirely in an iambic pentameter format.  Converting the boring prose information from dozens of worlds into glorious poetry worthy of perpetual preservation is their full-time job, and perhaps they have become somewhat unhinged in their zeal.  Fights about the proper wording for a particular database entry are common, engendering toxic backbiting about the qualifications and suitability of fellow Craiovans.  Once someone managed to anonymously submit a limerick into the files as a joke, and the repercussions are still ongoing.

HALLAXA is home to a "college town" where privileged students from other worlds are sent to receive a prestigious university education.  A great deal of emphasis is placed on competition and being the absolute best at whatever they set out to do.  Ordinarily, everyone is very serious and formal.  But on the great public holiday of "Bejaunting Day", supreme permission is given to do anything at all, "as long as it doesn't harm anyone."  On this day, the students therefore compete to do the craziest stunts they can imagine, subject to the restriction against harming anyone.  In addition to the threat of expulsion for violating that rule concerning others, there is always also a formal reminder that "anyone" includes one's self.  Thankfully, injuries requiring official discipline are rare.

ANAGNOSTOU is a cold and nearly barren world that subsists on hydroponically-farmed vegetables.  There is ample water ice, at least, and fuel to keep the habitats nice and warm.  The inherited position of "Father" is the title of the sovereign ruler of the planet.  Not everyone is descended from the Father, of course, but the extended royal family does make up a large fraction of the population.  Two traditional privileges distinguish the life of the Father from those of his subjects.  First, only the Father is permitted to leave the doors of his habitat open to the outside air.  This wastes a lot of heat, and serves only to flaunt his wealth.  The second rule is rather more strange.  The Father insists that no one may move in his presence.  This also precludes oral communication, so if anyone has anything to say to the Father, they must write down their petition on a placard and post it while he isn't present.  Then, on one of his daily processionals, the Father may happen to see this message.  If the members of that household remain appropriately frozen in place when he arrives, it bodes well for their request to be granted by the Father's decree.

ZŁOTNA has been extensively colonized by humans, but they consider their rightful ruler to be a native creature called "Król Potwór".  Artistic renditions depict Król Potwór as over twice as tall as a human, with a terrifying aspect.  Photographic evidence has not been made available, which leaves numerous questions about this monarch of Złotna.  Does it actually exist?  Its official home is a cave system with a fancifully decorated entrance and full-time armed guards.  Is there a breeding population that exists within these caverns?  Złotnan literature tells of a time when Król Potwór roamed the planet freely, in a wistful tone that suggests it may be the last of its kind.  What happens to those who are brought to face Król Potwór's justice in person?  None of them have ever made complaint.

RONGOĀ must have a highly unusual interior structure, because drilling a well in almost any new location results in a gigantic geyser of fresh water, under such high pressure that most of it actually escapes into the atmosphere.  After some time, the plume exhausts itself and produces no more.  Upon discovering this, Rongoāns proceeded to create many such ephemeral springs to irrigate their crops, slake their thirst, or just produce a beautiful spectacle to be enjoyed.  Unfortunately such profligate drilling has left Rongoā thoroughly pock-marked, and some regions are now actually quite parched.  Conservation efforts are trying to more proactively manage the planet's water resources, but face considerable resistance from those accustomed to drilling wherever they like.

UPEMBA is an edenic planet with numerous wild plants that yield high-calorie fruits throughout the year.  The most popular by far is the "mmeawakeki".   Just one of its densely sweet lobes is enough to satiate a person's belly, but honestly no one can eat just one.  Upembans write sonnets and arias and even novels about the glories of their land's produce, using the most grandiose language.  They also maintain a cultural memory of the time before they came to this planet.  Recent immigrants mark the day before the anniversary of their arrival with a ceremonial fast to keep that hunger in their mind.  Even those who were born on Upemba celebrate with a pre-birthday day of deprivation, followed of course by as much of the mmeawakeki fruit as they care to eat.

NONAGAMA is still technically a democracy, but their civilization has essentially been ruined by the election of a marvelous speaker who convinced them to make some extremely unwise investments.  They are now indebted to Osoriots from one sector away, for a total amount that exceeds their gross planetary income for the next century or so.  Nevertheless, the architect of this economic catastrophe is still in office, and his personal finances do not seem to have been adversely affected.  His oratorical ability suffices to convince the Nonagamans that it's all someone else's fault, and everything will eventually turn out fine.

PEROVIĆ is a watery world that is governed by a sort of modified democracy in which graduated levels of citizenship are afforded to each resident according to their "measured" intelligence.  A certain minimum score is required to be eligible for public office, and the votes of higher-scoring individuals are counted more than once.  It is not yet certain whether this strategy will pay off in the long term.  For now, the policy is bearing fruit in increased immigration of people who are good at acing intelligence tests.  These immigrants are generally pleased by the increased privileges which are afforded them.