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mepstein73 posted:I still hold out hope for Ohone finding love in the chaos of service to the Omnissiah. Valentine's Day is coming, after all, and we're getting in touch with our more empathetic human side lately... Empathy is apparently a worthy thing to understand and thus maybe we have neglected other aspects of our humanity that should be explored. We could program a machine spirit that thinks it's human and has feelings for Ohone and similar interests, then implant it in a human with a cog implant replacing his personality. Probably a good idea to install loyalty in the programming too. Then have a candlelit dinner in order to experience 'romance'.
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Feb 11, 2015 05:37
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How can clones be detected?
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Feb 11, 2015 05:49
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They look shifty.
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Feb 11, 2015 06:20
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Uh oh. We're surrounded.
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Feb 11, 2015 06:27
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Cannon_Fodder posted:Resurrecting this post: HEY! I've been doing my darndest to catch up on your Military History thread. Welcome! 
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Feb 11, 2015 06:39
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HEY GAL posted:What's up? And it's not my thread I just post in there too much. Talking about work is much more entertaining than doing it. That sounds like a fun thread  What forum is it?
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Feb 11, 2015 07:06
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Sogol posted:Uh oh. We're surrounded. Yep, gonna have to purge everyone, just to be safe.
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Feb 11, 2015 07:09
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LowellDND posted:That sounds like a fun thread http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3585027 The mil hist thread in Ask/Tell. It is a good thread.
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Feb 11, 2015 07:21
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Grognan posted:http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3585027 Awesome, ty
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Feb 11, 2015 07:23
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There's only two things you have to remember about what I study: Heavy drinking Bad life decisions
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Feb 11, 2015 07:44
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HEY GAL posted:There's only two things you have to remember about what I study: 
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Feb 11, 2015 07:49
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Slice of Life XXI Many organizations aboard ship have their Sacred places. The Mechanicus built their Temple around the Engines of the ship. The Ecclesiarchy have their Cathedral, but the Recyclers are their Holy place, where blood cannot be spilled. The Explorer’s Guild have their Shrine to the Ships’ Architect. For the Family, it is the Bridge - and for Lord-Sire, it is Court. It is important to know that, like the Family and Lord-Sire, the Bridge and Court overlap, but they are not the same. Physically, they operate in nearly the same place, and with many of the same people, but that is where the similarities end. Built on a massive viewing station overlooking the huge gold letters that named the ship, the Bridge sees all. In a strange way, it appears as if the Bridge was looking back on the Ship, and all that has come before - and visitors may interpret that how they wish. By going to Court, you go to the Bridge - but it would require an additional effort to actually visit it. You see, the Bridge is the long series of cogitators, Machine-Spirits, and personnel that line the Court to the left and right. However, they are sunken into the deck, so when you walk in the Court, you can look down on the Bridge. Due to the way the ship is built, sound doesn’t travel from one to the other, which is convenient - neither group likes each other very much. The Bridge is composed of all bulk of the Family - the Ship’s Officers who make things work. They learned their station even as a child, and each alcove is built so the operator can focus fully on it. Like their operators, each station is hyper-specialized, and lacks the ability to view the Court. Instead, it has the feel of a prison cell, where one does the same task forever. It seems to appeal to the Family, however - many of them don’t like change or surprises, so being able to focus on one thing is ideal. It is, after all, what they were designed for. The Court, on the other hand, is a wild place. Built to impress visiting dignitaries, governors, cartels, Navigator Families, military leaders, and even the rare Adeptus Astartes, it is grandiose in an almost painful fashion. A square foot of that chamber could pay for the food of a town for a year, and it is one of the largest chambers aboard ship. Occasionally, pissing matches between the Church and Family mean both compete to make their respective place that much bigger, which has only added to the unwieldy bulk of the ship. Hanging from the ceiling is a gargantuan chandelier - one would have to describe it as a spiderweb at this point. Originally dominating the center of the room, it now spiraled wildly in all directions. Some Lord-Sire long ago decided to add the skulls of his enemies and rivals to it, and now it stretches from corner to corner. Many of the skulls are armed, and the frame of the chandelier holds (if not conceals) heavy bolters that are used to shoot the annoying. There is even an old sound and light system that allows each skull to play their final moments, some of which include quite good speeches. That Lord-Sire was a little bit odd, as he liked to talk back to them, but he made good money - so he reigned for many years. The skulls hadn’t spoken recently, the current Lord-Sire viewing them as frivolous, but some of the best speeches were still occasionally played in moments of victory. Lining the walls, in 30x20 meter expanses, the previous Lord-Sires. Not all of them, of course - that would extend the length of the ship - but the most recent ones, of the last millenium or so. They stood somber, in the clothes of their regalia, holding their most valuable possessions, painted onto their greatest triumphs. Battle scenes, or negotiations, or grand heists. Some of them were exaggerated (running away reskinned as winning a fleet battle), but for the most part they were correct. Lord-Sires generally were quite good at their job, as the competition to get there was rather fierce. There was a history room in Alpha Deck where you could see the older paintings, but few people bothered. On some ships, the rank of Lord-Sire might go through a primarily bloodline, or be voted for by the senior members of the Family. Aboard this ship, however, it was adoptive, with the Lord-Sire running decade long competitions to see who might be worthy. Historically, they came from the Outside-Family; the core of the Family was stuck to running the ship, and liked it that way. Who would want to deal with planet bound more than they had to? The far end of the Court held the Captain’s Chair. From there, the Lord-Sire could examine everything that happened on the bridge, as well as dominate the Court by sheer presence. (The fact that the Throne emitted phermones inducing mild fear and awe was unknown to most). Many of the ship’s systems could be run by direct link from there, although such a mechanism was less useful than on a Navy ship, where everything was (for the most part) actually connected. During interesting fleet operations, the chamber could activate a holographic lightshow that would show fleet positions and the like, but it was rarely necessary. One planet looked much the same as another, and it was more common to simply use it as a means of intimidation. Some fool of a Governor, coming aboard, seeing paintings bigger than houses, a chandelier of a thousand skulls, a fully holographic image of the entire system - his tiny world and his place in it, as the icon of the ship was larger than moons. Scale was less important than symbolism, for the most part. Mostly, though, the court was a place of byzantine social lives. Senior Ship’s Officers stood at the walls and tried to talk to as few people as possible, Tech Priests buzzed to themselves, members of the Astropathic and Navigator Houses sniped at each other, and visitors from all over the system might come board - merchants, warriors, researchers, all asking for some part of the Lord-Sire’s time and resources.
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Feb 11, 2015 07:58
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We should do some research into the ascent of the Lord-Liege on alpha deck. It might show some insight into his ascent of power. No one becomes the Lord-Leige without some skeletons mounted and on display
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Feb 11, 2015 08:05
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That might be seen as a threat to him. Not something any sane family member should want.
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Feb 11, 2015 08:10
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Slice of Life XXII “One thing I’ve learned is that there are never any shortage of fools. “‘Oh, Captain Jack! What about that time you went to the Expanse and ended up warping into the middle of a Waugh?’ I can hear you say. That’s exactly it. Exactly my point. When I told people I was going to the Expanse to steal an entire colony before the orks got there, what did people say? Not ‘oh Captain Jack, that is the plan of madman! The timing would be impossible! You would need to get there after the IG withdraw but before the orks! Its madness!’ “Of course not. Before I knew it, I had a thousand crew, all asking where they could sign. “Never any shortage of fools. “Take the Beast for example. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. The Space Hulk Trader. They like to keep things in the Family, so to speak, but they also have an eye out for expertise. If you are a hot-poo poo fighter pilot or targeter, maybe they’ll find a place for you. You’ll fly over, whoopsidaisie, and you have a new husband and a whole pack of in-laws. “What happens if you aren’t hot poo poo though? Goes back to what I was saying about no shortage of fools. See, you can still join the Family - but not as one of the blood. If you are only three quarters as good as the best, you might be allowed in as a man-servant. All the Family, they have this ‘shadow-Family’, all the nannies and proctors and people who ready them for the life. That’s where you come in. “Say you have a set of skills. Its not A-list, but they do find it interesting - maybe you’ve read all the books of the Sage-Militant, or something. You can ask to serve the Family. If they like the cut of your gib, you come aboard, and spend a year learning your trade. This can be a set of ‘service’ skills, learning the ship, learning the particular politics, what fork to use. Everything you need to teach the next generation of the Family. “Sounds great, right? You get a lifetime job, guaranteed food and housing, and you get to do what you are good at. That’s the dream for a lot of people. Thing is though, it’s a fool’s job. During that year, they also hit you with your loyalty package. This isn’t just the basic Pavlovian training the IG gets, no, its a mess of chemical inductors, subliminal passwords, sleeper programming, menominc hypno-indoctrination. Its a thing the Ecclesiarchy and Mechanicus cooked up together. So while you serve the Family, you never, ever get to leave. “Never any shortage of fools though.”
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Feb 11, 2015 10:33
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What is the process like when a Lord-Sire doesn't make enough money, how does a new one come into power?
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Feb 11, 2015 10:41
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Oasx posted:What is the process like when a Lord-Sire doesn't make enough money, how does a new one come into power? Ill give that some thought, maybe make that the next SoL Slice of Life XXIII Every day, Caroline the Sage cleans the stacks. She is rarely visited. Sequestered on Alpha Deck, accessible only by the Family, she is the foremost expert of the Beast and its Family in the entire galaxy. There might be a handful of people who know a scrap of data she does not - but as a compilation of knowledge, she is worth a planet of Adepts. That is said without exaggeration - her augments, favors from a grateful Mechanicus, means she is far more capable than an army of the merely human. She’s not … very good, at people. That’s another reason she’s rarely visited. A century or so ago, she was made an offer she couldn’t refuse. She was already known as the best expert on the Family in the region - a Dean at her university, Tenure, dozens of published books. Perhaps she discovered something she shouldn’t, or perhaps the Family finally decided it was time. One day, her students simply found her gone, house empty, office cleaned out. She came aboard the Beast, and she’s never left. She can’t complain, really. She has all the resources about the Family she could ever want, and sometimes people come in for interviews. The archives are never published off ship, but you can’t have everything. Most of her time is spent maintaining the vast depositories that are her life - literal tons of books, scrolls, sheafs of paper, maps, video clips, vox recordings. She keeps a few of the Court paintings up, and they watch her. They remind her of what she’s dedicated her life to. Her current project and diorama: Lord-Sire Fredrik Narciso Di Muzio, General of the Grey, Herald of the Engines, Master of the Beast. The man who had placed her here, without an expression, with little explanation. Although she could guess, after all. She had learned something she shouldn’t have, or talked to someone who she shouldn’t have. A surprising number of her doctoral students had died over the years. She never thought she’d outlive them. Born out of the Dregs, Lord-Sire was adopted into the Greycloaks after participation in a Tiyu-Qiyu related riot. They had watched him find a member of the opposing fandom on the ground, pushed over by some part of the fight or another. They had watched him kick their head head into the brains were spread all over the deck. And that, as they say, was that. Fredriks Di Muzio took to the Greycloaks like a shark in shallow water. In superb physical condition, he took to every riot he could, and soon became known as The Butcher. All Greycloaks are known as butchers, but Fredriks was The Butcher. The previous Lord-Sire even farmed him out - Tempestus training with the Schola Progenium, Kasrkin training with the Cadians. He specialized in hive-fighting, and there were rumors he found Savlar Chemdogs just to party and brutalize with. Behind that bulldog face, though, was a growling intellect, hungry and territorial. He demanded a marriage into the Family, and got it. Such skill wasn’t to be wasted, and his avaricious approach to life was considered exemplary. From there, he began a vicious, decades long project to remove all possible rivals to what he considered his. Few of them expected such a monster to also be good at politics, and he soon had them by the throat. It was said they were accidents, but that was rather hard to believe when he had had them stuffed and mounted. The previous Lord-Sire actually stepped down, once they became aware of the snake that had gotten loose in the garden. It hadn’t helped them much - they suffered an accident a few years later. Di Muzio became Lord-Sire with considerable applause, although it would only be a cynic that pointed out it looked remarkably liked terror. There were people who said he was an outsider, not even of the Family. That his loyalty to the gutter he came from would be the downfall of the ship. As his first act as Lord-Sire, he found every Dreg who shared his DNA, and personally spaced them. He didn’t want people to think he’d gotten soft. ... All things considered, Caroline thought she’d gotten off rather lightly.
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Feb 11, 2015 11:28
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Slice of Life XXIV “Mm. Mm! What is that?” “Groxwurst. Infused with cognac that we harvested from a recent nebula.” “And this?” “Lobster tail from Kamino. Seared in truffle oil.” “By the God-Emperor.” His voice was awed. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.” “Thank you sir.” “No, I mean it! I have eaten a meal on the Spire of Amarrah. This is better.” His friend threw a dinner roll at him. “Vradil Braxten, you never did.” “Did too. You remember the Astral pirates?” “Sure. Not a bad haul.” “Right, the Captain gave us salvage rights.” “So?” “So, I used it to get a meal on the Spire.” His friend stared at him with mixed envy and disgust. “Do you mean to tell me, you spent…” “My entire salvage share.” “Ten thousand Thrones…” “On a meal?” “Yup.” “Do you regret it?” Braxten took another bite, thought. “No. But this is better.” “Thank you sir.” “How do you do it?” “Well, we travel the Pilgrim routes. So every few weeks, we get a half megaton of new foodstuffs. Lord-Sire sells a lot of it to the Deeps, and we mix it. A Hive would have to import everything like this, but we are the importers. So we can make meals you’d see on the Hivecaps.” “... and all for a week’s wages.” “Yes sir.” Braxten looked at his friend. “Right, we’re moving in.” - Nebulae of alcohol are a real thing http://www.cracked.com/article_20237_the-6-most-bizarre-things-ever-discovered-in-space.html
Loel fucked around with this message at 13:16 on Feb 11, 2015 |
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Feb 11, 2015 13:12
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Slice of Life XXV One of the most interesting bits of trivia that have come out of the Beast’s history is the father and son pair of Lord-Sire, nearly a millenium ago. Their actions indirectly created much of the societal structure which one can see in the contemporary Rogue-Trader. Not because of their competence and ability to plan - instead, it was nearly the opposite which resulted in the changes so necessary to the survival of the Family. Pertinax the Foolish was an average Lord-Sire, and his name did not become so until his death bed. He did not show any particular moment of brilliance, instead being the middle child of history that would pass on his heritage to someone better. Indeed, everyone expected him to hand the reins to one of his advisors, members of his Small Council. Instead, he proclaimed his line hereditary, and his first son would be the next Lord-Sire. While the rules of ‘adoption’ would be maintained, he insisted that the adoption be primogeniture based. Many Trader Families followed this doctrine, and he viewed his ship as the aberration, that required fixing. Indeed, many contemporary Families still follow this route of inheritance, even with the success of the Beast as evidence to the contrary. All of this would have been adequate, much like his life, if his son wasn’t Gregor the Fat. Gregor was a glutton, which isn’t necessarily a flaw in a Lord-Sire. Gregor was a sybarite, which wasn’t necessarily a problem either. No, the problem was that Gregor was the kind of mark that Rogue-Traders are supposed to steal from. He would spend fortunes on rumors, and did. He would ignore maintenance costs, reduce food lines, sell museum peices, and generally go about destroying a legacy millenia in the making. Any con artist worth the name was soon at the court, offering trash and gossip and being vastly rewarded for it. He took to selling parts of the Hulk to fund his excesses, giving the Beast its familiar hammerhead shape. He would sell actual Eldar trophies for the rumors of dead Craftworlds. He would buy armies of mercenaries, including artillery and air, and have them fight to the death in massive spectacles. He would literally purchase dead or abandoned planets, and spend years throwing comets into them. He claimed that the ice from such impacts made the best drinks. It all came to a head when he began thinking of selling Family members to the research labs of the Mechanicus. His ‘Magos’ was a wastrel and vagabond, barely worth the title of Tech-Priest, and his ‘research’ was destructive in the extreme. As such, it brought all the factions together - the members of his father’s Small Council, the leaders of the Gangs (who were dealing with literal famines), the senior officers of the Greycloaks, the Mother-Abbot. They told him he couldn’t spend the legacy of Ching Shih this way. They told him the famines meant he would have no crew. They told him the food riots had caused the decimation of the household troops. They told him he was ignoring his oaths to the God-Emperor. They told him he needed to adopt a new Lord-Sire, someone who wasn’t his son. He refused. With his own bodyguards on the conspiracy, bringing him to the docking bay was no effort at all. It was agreed by all present that, in the changed circumstances, he agreed to name his successor - the leader of the reform movement. Following this public and legal change, he apologized to his Family, and pulled the lever, releasing himself into space. All of this a lie, of course. However, the lessons were well remembered to all Lord-Sires that followed. The adoption was never to be of your own direct line. The power blocs on the ship must either be subverted or decapitated. While the Dregs can be ignored, they must be fed. Always be the con, and never the mark. Above all, above all: money must be made.
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Feb 11, 2015 14:24
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LowellDND posted:Slice of Life XXIV Heh, and at first I thought you had followed GreyHunter's Rogue Trader LP.
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Feb 11, 2015 18:58
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So much politics and all I'm hearing is merge with the ship, assume direct control and turn everyone we can't trust and even some of them into servitors because this game of thrones isn't one that anyone can win.
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Feb 11, 2015 19:09
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Arkanomen posted:So much politics and all I'm hearing is merge with the ship, assume direct control and turn everyone we can't trust and even some of them into servitors because this game of thrones isn't one that anyone can win. Stop thinking! We can't let the psyker know about our end goals.
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Feb 11, 2015 19:19
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sheep-dodger posted:Heh, and at first I thought you had followed GreyHunter's Rogue Trader LP. I dunno that one Im only finding youtube videos, is there a text log of it?My themesong about writing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Q9rewnLFYw … good lord playing this terrified my cats. From Beneath You, It Devours You winced. Amacita was being unbearable cheerful this morning. You were running yourself ragged getting everything prepared for your departure, but she seemed determined to be having a good time. Briefly, you wondered if it was something chemical - briefly, you wondered if she would share. But no, it seemed all natural happy Amacita. She didn’t even seem to need Kaff. You rubbed your eyes. So much to do, so much to do… running a regiment was nearly as much work as stealing one. You flipped through some of your folders, glanced around the table. Your three regimental commanders - Colonel Gottlieb, Mandaltam, and Jeb looked equally tired. While there was a lull in the fighting (at least from your perspective - the front lines were getting fusioned bombed), that didn’t mean there was a lull in the paperwork. If you had known feeding ten thousand people was this much work, you might have considered leaving them in the depths. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Sighing internally, you pulled out the next sheaf. “Okay, winter gear. Apparently this planet has razor storms? What do we know?” Father Kraig shifted his weight. “The locals say avoid them. Full stop. Apparently there are continental sized hypercanes. Due to the higher rotation of the planet, and the large ocean without any other continents, winds pick up quick. They gather up all the debris left over from old Hives, and turn them into a blender. Armored vehicles and bunkers should be okay, but if you are out in the open, you’ll be gibleted.” “What about the temperature?” “That’s the other joke on this planet. The binary stars - well, one of them - is on a seasonal flicker. So we’ll be dealing with one star, and its further away than is typical. Expect some really vicious cutting snow, even if it doesn’t have the material debris. We’ll need specially designed winter coats.” “The Kriegers will like that. I like to think that means that the war will slow down for the season, but we really don’t know how xenos handle weather. Or anything else. Amacita.” She giggled, looked over. “Yes? I was paying attention.” “When the shipments start coming down, prioritize our regiments. When this war is over the IG will go back to the quartermasters. We won’t, so I want warm and happy soldiers, not frozen corpses.” “Sure, no problem.” Her smile was too bright. You didn’t like it. “Make sure you do. Are we expecting any combat anytime soon?” Colonel Gottlieb checked her papers. “No, the IG views our unit as still a training division. We won’t be pulled up unless there is an emergency.” “That’s something. Father Kraig, keep up on the training with them.” “Of course.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes. You felt the need to explain. “The Mechanicus wants me to take a team out for a mission. A few weeks, probably.” He shrugged. “Nothing we haven’t had happen before. If you happen to find an army depot this time, we could use some artillery pieces.” A few chuckles at that. Last time you came back with a regiment, so why not? You flipped through the rest of the papers. “Okay… ammo good, training schedules good, winter clothes on their way, bunkers built and secured, vehicles up to speed. We could probably go to war next week, if it came down to it. Our tactical doctrine isn’t half bad either.” Nods around the table. You continued. “Let’s keep working on company sized coordination, and tech expertise on the individual level. If I do end up finding some cannon, I want people ready to use it. If there’s nothing else…?” Everyone shook their head, so you stood. “Good luck. I expect to see some xeno heads when I get back.” Some more chuckles. The sign of the Aquilia and the Cog, and you were on your way. Next thing… you checked on Fabiyan. There was another push, coordinating with a nerve gas assault, so it took some time for him to reply. You could hear the odd cadence of the Krieger battle cant in the background. “How goes the war?” His voice was carefully ordinary, letting you answer how much you would. You could sense the concern underlying it though. “It goes well. Found a new mission.” “Oh?” Curiosity laced the sound. “Yup. Mechanicus strike team. Was wondering if I could borrow some friends.” He made an odd barking sound, halfway a cough. “Ohone, there are probably five divisions here who want to die with you.” “Good to know. I just need two squads. Its a light footprint mission. Wilderness experience, long haul, tech expertise preferred.” Fabiyan made a weird humming noise. “Okay. I’ll talk with them, see who might fit the bill. Autonomy isn’t a high requirement?” “I’m asking for Kriegers.” “Thought so. Give me a few hours.” Your handpicked team made its way to the Krieg lines. A mechanized company, it was composed of your finest veterans - the ones who had descended into the earth with you, fought the psider with you. A handful of Chimeras and Centaurs, and your own speciality Salamander and Hellhound. It wouldn’t be able to fight other tanks - it was a very fast build, preferring to fight infantry or flank around. While the troops made their final refinements on the vehicles, preparing them for the razor storms and rough terrain, you worked on supplementing the fire-teams themselves. NCOs and officers got a psider-web hair net. You weren’t sure if it would keep out the full impact of telepathy, but it might help, and you thought it worth the chance. One downside was that it lowered their morale some, reminding them of dark times. The analytical part of you wondered how long they could wear it before it broke them. Parallel to this, you ordered more servo-skulls. You were quietly reminded that there weren’t an infinite number of them aboard ship, so you would have to make do with this last shipment. During driving, you would have three skulls per vehicle - during dismounts, you assigned one to each fire-team of four soldiers. In this way, you should be able to maintain constant situational awareness. Fabiyan sent his regards, and said he couldn’t leave the front lines to send you off. However, he did send the troops he promised, and they came with his highest recommendations. Upon seeing the vehicles and hearing the mission plan (cross west into the wastelands), they immediately began preparing the vehicles even further. Insulation was added, chemical seals placed, and vents secured with filters. They never took off their masks from what you had seen, but you appreciated the added level of protection. They did add a certain mechanism to one Chimera which confused you at first glance. It was a small tower rising out of the back, and it raised the profile considerably. Upon examination, you could see water collectors that could be filled with snow or rain, as well as chemical pumps and valves. The device itself had a head shaped hole in the center with a pressure plate. When you tested it, the water mixed with the chemicals, pouring over the pad. Odd. Checking the symbols, you saw the markers for nuclear/biological/chemical on one side, and the same markers except crossed out on the other. The Kriegers were watching you look at their machine, although whether they felt they were testing you or you were testing them was unclear. You thought for a moment, then reached out, grabbed one of your servo-skulls. It fit perfectly. Aha. They had made a washer for the servoskulls, so they could be handled safely. You weren’t sure if they appreciated being thanked, so you just looked at them and said “You did your job.” That seemed to to work, as they scattered back among the vehicles, checking the chemical seals once again. You were sure they would find nothing wrong with them - their training was impeccable. You checked the supplies once more - military rations, ammo, winter gear. The soldiers could barely move in the vehicles, which meant there was no wasted space. Ammo would be more worthwhile than arm-rests, you knew. And then, there was nothing to it. You checked the radio channels again (cloudy with a hint of static), and gave the order to move out. There wasn’t really much to say, and your own tank was very quiet. Still, it was a command equipped mobile HQ, so you did what you could to keep abreast of things. The local maps weren’t great, and you were soon rolling out of the Krieg AO and into unknown territory. It was a long sloping decline, perhaps fifteen kilometers long and half a kilometer deep. Ahead of you, a vast valley, ranging hundreds of kilometers in every direction, even beyond what you could see. All the slop of the Hives poured here, eventually, and it was a pockmarked sink hole of chemical waste, hazardous materials, and all the debris of civilization. You were inwardly thankful you thought to ask for the Kriegers - the Omnissiah was truly guiding your actions. In the far, far distance, dominating the sky, a storm like scar tissue. You thought you could hear it howl from here - you thought you could feel the vehicle rattle. It hadn’t even reached you yet, but you knew how your animal brain liked to play tricks on you. … Wait, no. Tanya was looking at you with concern - it was a real effect. The vehicles were rattling, but from a mild earthquake. Ahead of you, and below, a chasm was opening. You sent a skull up ahead, had it come back to show you the recording. Somewhere in the depths, carapace and flesh undulated, heading east, towards the Krieg. You had no idea how far down it was, or how many of them there were. Or, for that matter, what they were. What do you do? A. Drive back, you need to deal with this personally B. Call in to the Kriegers and let them know what you observed C. You need more info, rappel down with skull escort D. Focus on your mission and keep driving E. Something Else
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Feb 11, 2015 20:29
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Sacrifice that skull to get a closer look, then B. Keep moving. It's the efficient thing to do. And tell those guys to only put on the psider webnets if we hit a psyker attack. It's nids, so no psykers yet.
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Feb 11, 2015 20:37
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B - Our mission is more important, and i don't imagine we would make a whole lot of difference. Call and tell the Kriegers what we saw, send a servo skull squad down and investigate further, and relay back any new info we find to the kriegers.
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Feb 11, 2015 20:41
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B
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Feb 11, 2015 20:50
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B
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Feb 11, 2015 20:50
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B+ - Tell the Kriegers and send a skull or two to investigate further. However, make sure to have the skulls circle the xeno swarm and approach it from another direction - if the xenos decide to check where the skulls are coming from, we don't want them to simply be able to draw a straight line to us. Actually, if they investigate the wrong way, we might delay the attack or divide the xenos, which is certainly to our advantage. With proper intel, the Kriegers should be able to redeploy, brace, and repel the attack, while we move on with our mission.
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Feb 11, 2015 20:52
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B 
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Feb 11, 2015 20:54
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B
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Feb 11, 2015 20:55
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A B x x x x x, x x C D E I think I should have added a cost to using the radio 
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Feb 11, 2015 21:00
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LowellDND posted:I dunno that one I'm also going the of voting B+Servoskulls investigating
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Feb 11, 2015 21:04
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sheep-dodger posted:As far as I know there is no text log, but you can find the thread over here, which also contains tindeck links for the audio recordings, it's the kind of thing I listened to while doing chores and stuff. The reason I was wondering is that the players got stuck in a nebula made of alcohol at some point. Awesome, ty
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Feb 11, 2015 21:11
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LowellDND posted:I think I should have added a cost to using the radio I don't know about anyone else, but having migrated here from a CYOA in which the fastest forms of communications consists of signal fires or a dude running as fast as he can and where battlefield intelligence consists of oracular visions, I am entirely OK with using and abusing instantaneous, cost-free communications to its maximum extent. So B.
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Feb 11, 2015 21:26
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Tomn posted:I don't know about anyone else, but having migrated here from a CYOA in which the fastest forms of communications consists of signal fires or a dude running as fast as he can and where battlefield intelligence consists of oracular visions, I am entirely OK with using and abusing instantaneous, cost-free communications to its maximum extent. Don't forget about his Magic Dog Chat.  Also, another vote for B. Knowledge is power!
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Feb 11, 2015 21:52
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Onto the Bandwagon
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Feb 11, 2015 21:55
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Tomn posted:I don't know about anyone else, but having migrated here from a CYOA in which the fastest forms of communications consists of signal fires or a dude running as fast as he can and where battlefield intelligence consists of oracular visions, I am entirely OK with using and abusing instantaneous, cost-free communications to its maximum extent. Ditto
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Feb 11, 2015 22:07
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B You can't really blame us for choosing the smart option here, can you?
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Feb 11, 2015 22:27
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Lanky Coconut Tree posted:Sacrifice that skull to get a closer look, then B. Keep moving. It's the efficient thing to do. This is good.
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Feb 11, 2015 22:39
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| # ? May 13, 2024 12:17 |
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B. Hmmm... those tunnel systems we found the subsixers in, how standard were they? Could we reasonably expect to find some below ground and possibly make good time in tunnels towards our destination?
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Feb 11, 2015 22:39
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