|
Arcturas posted:Head inside! This, but hold the line.
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 01:07
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 29, 2024 11:09 |
|
|
Arcturas posted:Could you throw a list of skills somewhere in the first post? They're in the first page of the last thread, but it'd be helpful to have them here too. +3 CHA +1 ZGC Computers Could you post the skill list every time we level up?
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 01:15
|
|
|
Hogge Wild posted:+3 CHA Seconding this. Time to pump CHA.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 02:59
|
|
|
Hogge Wild posted:+3 CHA Hold on for dear life
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 03:23
|
|
|
quote:Name: Cromulus Your mind goes through a high-speed calculation as you consider the big picture. If the Legion can destroy this ship, then the battle will most certainly be won, as the Invaders will only have one small battleship left in this unit formerly made of five ships. You are fighting in a ring set up to defend the Athens Panthers, who have recently destroyed this ship’s shield generator. If you consider this battle only by the numbers, then the Athens Panthers can certainly be considered expendable; in fact, everyone fighting on the hull of the Frost Giant could pull out, the ship could be destroyed by laser artillery, and the battle would be over. But the Athens Panthers are more than just a unit of soldiers. Just as your unit has done, they’ve stuck their necks out to make this ship vulnerable. You doubt that the Legion could achieve long-term victory if it made a regular practice of sacrificing every soldier willing to put his rear end on the line while other, more cautious, soldiers survived in the short-term. Just as you don’t want someone behind a desk to sign your death warrant because you tried too hard and made a name for yourself, you don’t want to put the Panthers in any more danger than they’re already in. “We’re fine out here!” you shout to the newcomers. “I need you to get in that hole and clear out anything that stands in the way of the Panthers. You hear me? Get them out alive!” “Got it!” says one of the soldiers. A few of them hesitate because their helms have not marked you as a Commander – but none of them can offer a better plan, so they turn and descend into the dark, gaping hole. Both lines falter momentarily, as both Invader and Legion infantry are exhausted. Some enemies cling to one another like boxers, their curses echoing through one another’s helms. You brush off a corpse that slams into you with its jetpack still burning, then regain your footing and fall in beside your brother. Without a word both lines form up once more and you burn your jetpack and begin pushing once more. It is impossible to tell which side has the advantage. “This is it!” shouts Commander Uther. “The final push! Keep these goats back while the Panthers make a break for it!” You turn and see the Venice Clovers fall in line near you, hacking and stabbing at Invader infantrymen locked in a particularly tight press. At that moment bright, shining Neptune swivels into view. The Frost Giant must be rolling about, for you see the giant blue behemoth rising like a cyan star over the battlefield, casting the warriors in a surreal light. Just when you think you cannot push any longer, the ring of Invaders pressing against you suddenly breaks. Many of your comrades trip or rocket forward as the Invaders fall back. As in a dream you see slow-moving figures on either side trying to make sense of the new battlefield; friend and foe stand on either side, trying to gather the strength to lash out at one another. “Don’t rest!” you shout. “This is our chance! Kill those bastards! Kill anything you-” You are interrupted by Invader infantrymen flying on either side of you. Their weapons are drawn and they are desperate to hack a path through you and your comrades. 5 ZC + 1 Proficiency + 1 Cha bonus + 1 Will bonus + 1 Survivor bonus + 1 Wolf Tits bonus = 10. You are completely unharmed, and you gain 2 XP and 2 dollari for surviving the grueling Battle of Neptune. You also gain an additional 4 XP for providing backup for the Athens Panthers despite needing backup of your own. ------------ You end up grappling with one foe and turning about wildly, knocking his comrades aside. You are too tired to lift your weapon, and can only grip his arms at his sides. Finally a giant sword smashes down on your foe’s helm, then cleaves downward and a freezing gust of air, blood, particles of meat, and teeth sputter out and collect against your helm. Kregus jerks his sword back and tosses the Invader aside. “You okay, brother?” he says. You lean against him, trying to get your wind back. “You get hit in the head?” you ask. “Why?” “Because it sounded like you meant it when you called me your-” Cheers echo through your helm. Several friendly units blast out through the hole in the side of the ship. “We’re out!” says the Commander of the Athens Panthers. “We’re out! Let’s get the hell out of here and blow this place sky high!” Without a moment’s hesitation, every Legion infantryman cranks his jetpack all the way. The Invader infantrymen realize that something bad has happened and follow course. With Neptune shining on one side, you blast through space and leave the fallen Giant far behind. Moments later, the darkness of space is covered in intense crimson light – then the Frost Giant is blasted by multiple volleys of laser artillery fire. You turn about, fly backwards, and reduce your speed so that you can watch the massive beast silently torn apart from fore to aft. Then you laugh, for you see the final Invader battleship, the Backstabber, fire its engines and haul rear end. You broadcast the image to as many infantrymen as you can, laughing all the while. “Look at them run!” someone shouts. “Go tell your friends about us,” says another. “Goddamn cowards!” “There’s still plenty of Invader infantry out here,” says a third. “What do we do about them?” “Looks like the fight’s gone out of them,” says the Commander of the Athens Panthers. “Not that I can much blame them. If some of you boys wouldn’t mind hauling us to a medic, maybe the rest of you could escort our new friends to whatever we’ve got that passes for a dungeon?” You watch as the Backstabber retreats. Though your blood boils at the thought of any Invaders escaping, you know that only your fastest ship, the Blood Goose, could keep up with it, and she’s temporarily grounded. Besides, you know that every goat on that lucky ship will tell the tale of what happened when they outnumbered a few monkeys and came looking for an easy win… and had their asses handed to them on a steaming-hot platter. ------------ There is little time to congratulate one another, as you are in enemy territory and backup could arrive within the hour. Rookies are ordered to round up prisoners while crewmen gather around the Blood Goose to make temporary repairs to her engine. Still other units are sent to see what they can salvage from the destroyed ships, and skeleton crews are put together to try to fit the Black Star with whatever it needs in order to haul it into a friendly port where it can be made to serve the Legion. Just when you begin to wonder if you will be allowed to return home and collapse into bed, Sybel approaches. “Sybel!” you shout. “Good to see you again! Is everyone-” Sybel places his helm directly against yours so that you can communicate without using your comm units. “No time to talk,” he says. “A dropship’s about to pick us up. Everyone else is on board, but you have to watch what you say. There’s a pilot onboard who might be able to monitor, or overhear us on… uh, we think he may be a spy for… well, I think Commander Uther has a plan to – poo poo, they’re already here. Just keep your mouth shut and follow our lead!” Before you can ask for any clarification, a small dropship draws near. “Is that the other member of your unit?” someone says over your helm comm. You guess that he might be the ship’s pilot. “It is,” says Sybel. “We’re ready to go.” “Come on, then,” says the pilot. “I’ll take you to the Thunder God.” “We’re not going to the Penelope’s Vengeance?” you ask. Sybel says nothing, nor does the pilot, so you follow in silence. The ship’s side door opens and you see your comrades floating inside near their seats. The door shuts behind you and the ship takes off. As soon as the cabin pressurizes and cycles oxygen, you begin to remove your helm. Then you notice that everyone else leaves their helms on, so you follow suit and sit beside Marcus. He turns away from you. Your comrades check their wounds and the damage to their suits, but no one says anything. Something feels terribly wrong; you should be congratulating one another, shouting, boasting, embracing, and making plans for a celebration. You look to Uther, but he only crosses his arms and looks away from you. You sit in intensely uncomfortable silence. Why are we heading toward the Thunder God? you wonder. You glance at the pilot, and he turns away from you. Was it just your imagination, or was the man staring at you? Finally Commander Uther rises. “Alright,” he says. “Fun and games are over. I can’t take this poo poo another minute. You, Cromulus – I want to talk to you.” “Sir?” you say. “What’s-” “I said to you, not with you.” The man stands over you, and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze. “The fact of the matter is… you’re not one of us, Cromulus." You look at the others, but no one returns your gaze. “You’re not one of us, and you never will be one of us,” says Commander Uther. His words stab at you without mercy. “There’s been nothin’ but trouble ever since you were with us.” “But I-” “But nothin’! I’ve already heard what happened back there! It’s your fault that Heimdall is dead! That kid had potential! But you?” You glance at Wolf Tits, who studies his hands. Uther shakes his head, drawing your attention back to him. “People like you call us fanatics. You use us to get what you want. You don’t care about your species – all you care about is your career.” You are stunned speechless. As the Commander moves to take his seat once again, he says, “Just keep quiet. If I killed you, they’d put me in lockdown. But if you say one word, believe me… I’d gladly go behind bars.” You wonder if you are dreaming, or perhaps trapped in a nightmare. Once again you feel eyes on you. When you turn and look, you see the strange pilot smiling slightly before he turns away. The ship lurches. “We’re here,” says the pilot. “Docking bay for the Thunder God. Cromulus, this is where you disembark. I’ll get the rest of you back to the Penelope.” The doors open. No one looks at you as you slowly disembark. ------------ No one greets you in the Thunder God’s docking bay, so you find a pressurized hallway where you can remove your helm and sit in gloomy silence while airmen rush past on either side. You feel like you’ve been wronged. You know that you did everything you could possibly do, but now your friends have pulled the rug completely out from under you. You wait for perhaps half an hour, then an old man in a rough uniform with a blue badge approaches. He glares at you from under bushy white eyebrows. “You Cromulus?” he says. You nod. “My name’s Senex.” He stands silent. “Do I know you?” you ask. “Do you remember fumbling about with an alien ship’s control panel while a technician with a genius-level intellect that can’t be gauged by Legion standards held your hand and walked you through the entire process?” “Vaguely, yes.” “Well, I’m that guy. Good to finally meet you in person.” Unable to shake your gloom, you look the old man up and down. “Are they retiring you and giving me your desk job, or what?” “No. They don’t stick jarheads in tech chairs. The chairs we use are valuable, and we can’t have people like you leaning back and breaking them. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve both been ordered to meet the Captain of this ship. So, come on. I know the way.” You are exhausted, and rising from the bench is incredibly difficult. As the aging tech slowly leads you through the dark hallways of the strange ship, you realize that your helm has been beeping quietly. You put it on and find a message written in one corner of your display. At the top it reads, “FROM THE CLOVERS.” Senex looks back and shakes his head. “You can leave your helm off, you know. They figured out how to keep these ships from spontaneously breaking in half a long time ago.” “Would you just chill out?” you say, frustrated at the distraction. “Oh, good Lord,” says Senex. “You’re not recording my name on your comp, are you? Is it really that hard to remember!?” You ignore the old man as you read the message. COMM. UTHER HERE SORRY ABOUT RUSE THAT PILOT WORKS FOR PEOPLE WHO DONT LIKE FANATICS LEADING UNITS THEY KNOW YOU GOT POTENTIAL, CROM. THATS WHY THEY WANT YOU YOU MADE US ALL PROUD TODAY, WE WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR TIME WITH US BUT YOU HAVE TO GO ON TO BETTER THINGS MAYBE SOMEDAY YOU CAN BE FANATICAL ABOUT BEING HUMAN TODAY ISNT THAT DAY GOODBYE, GOOD LUCK You remove your helm with a smile stretched across your face. It was a ruse! you think. Of course! Senex looks back at you, then does a double-take. “Oh, great. Just look at you! You were lookin’ at some por-no-graphy, weren’t you?! I know you jarheads keep your helm memory units jam-packed with that smut!” Too happy to trade insults with the old man, you merely shake your head and laugh. Senex brings you to the Thunder God’s supply depot. It is larger than the one you are used to, and it is packed with infantrymen trading in hard-earned dollari for gear. “What are we doing here?” you ask. “I thought we had to see the Captain. Oh, no… this isn’t an Alzheimer’s thing, is it? Do you even know where-” “Of course it’s not!” says Senex. “If you had an ounce of my brains in you at your age, you would get down on your knees and thank the Storm Lord, boy! Believe me, boy, I’m still sharp as a tack.” Repulsed by the image of the old man’s brains being anywhere inside your body, you say, “Well, what are we doing here, then?” The old man’s gaze grows distant. “Ah… this makes me miss the Penelope’s Vengeance, and that’s a fact. Did I ever tell you I had a chance, and I mean a real, solid chance, of getting with that incredibly attractive young lady that works at our old supply depot?” “You what?!” you shout. You lower your voice as several eyes turn toward you. “You’re telling me that a nice young lady like her would-” “Hey, plenty of ladies prefer men with experience. Distinguished and mature men get the kind of play that young buck jarheads like you can only dream of.” “So you just went up to her and-” “Ah, well, technically I haven’t actually “gone up” to her. Yet. But I’ve seen her around a lot, you know. And there are subtle cues that people like me – men of experience and distinction – learn to pick up on, and they let me know that a refined young woman like her would most definitely be quite accommodating when it comes to entertaining the attentions of an older gentleman such as myself.” You feel an incredible weight lift from your shoulders. “So you haven’t even talked to her, then, have you?” “Well, maybe I haven’t. But it’s all moot now, isn’t it? We’re not going back to the Vengeance.” “We’re… not?” “No, you numbskull, we’ve both been reassigned!” “But… but I…” “Yeah, yeah, I know. Times are tough all around. And don’t bother asking, kid, because I have no idea whether we’re going to be cleaning space-toilets or sipping drinks with the Storm Lord.” The reality of the situation finally hits you. You’ve been reassigned. You won’t be returning to your old home. You don’t know if you will ever again see your friends, much less get a chance to land a date with the black metal Valkyrie of the supply depot. “Ah, wait,” says Senex. “I do remember something. I don’t know where they’re putting us, but I’m supposed to tell you to make sure you pick up some supplies. You need to pack for a long trip. You’ll need food, meds, things like that. Got it?” You cannot shake the image of the wrinkled old man groping at the poor supply depot lady as she shakes her head in disgust and cries out for you to come and save her while he fills her head with nonsensical babble about being out of touch with modern culture and all the pills he needs to keep his body from keeling over. “Yeah, I got it,” you say, pushing past other infantrymen as you enter the supply depot. ------------ The supply depot is full of warriors who should be in the medical ward. You realize that these are the men who would rather upgrade their equipment as fast as possible rather than sleep or have their open wounds looked at by a professional – and you are one of them. You are excited by the idea that the Thunder God is a larger ship than the Vengeance, so it would stand to reason that it carries better equipment. Unfortunately your hopes are quickly dashed, for this supply depot may have more gear on hand, but ultimately it’s the same gear that’s always been available to you. Just as you shake your head in frustration, you remember something that happened several days ago. You remember Marcus complaining about his large machinegun getting jammed all the time. Wolf Tits listened to his complaint, then he responded, “Marcus, there ain’t no crap gear, not really. You can put just about anything to good use. You just gotta use your head for something other than a beer delivery chute.” Later, as you approach Captain Sekhmet’s office, two infantry Commanders leave. They look like whipped dogs. As soon as the door shuts behind them, one of them says, “Can you believe this poo poo? She practically gnawed my rear end off!” “She’s a hardass, for sure,” says the other. “I’d rather be getting my helm beat in by a pack of goats than sit in front of her for another minute!” As you stand before the entrance, Senex puts a hand on your shoulder. “Cromulus,” he says. “Try to keep it professional, will you?” “Of course,” you say. “I mean it. There’s no reason to carry on like those two.” You shake your head. “I may be a jarhead, like you say, but I’m a human fanatic first. Nobody takes beating these aliens more seriously than we do.” Before Senex can say anything else, the door opens. Captain Sekhmet sits behind a large, neatly-arranged black desk in a dull, gray room. The only piece of decoration you can see is a photograph of Earth taken from the surface of Luna. You stare at the picture as you enter, then your eyes rest on the Captain. She is a small, black-skinned woman with long gray dreads and diamond-hard eyes that stab at you from folds of wrinkled flesh. “Cromulus. Senex. Sit down.” You unlatch your heavy jetpack and drop it beside you as you sit in a narrow, straight-backed chair. “I’m busy filing death reports and moving people around, so I’ll be brief. Cromulus, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that you won’t be working with the Venice Clovers anymore.” “Yes, ma’am,” you say. “In fact, I was wondering why-” “Wonder no more. The Black Lance Legion is promoting you to the rank of Commander. We’re putting together a team for you, and we’re dropping you off on the battlefield of Mars.” You are taken aback. “Ma’am, I… well, thank y-” “Don’t thank me. Mars is a meat grinder. You’ll be lucky to make it out alive, much less drag a team of rookies through that sand-blasted wasteland. But then again, we’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? Our species has its back against the wall. The only positions available that allow for time off are six feet under.” “Yes ma’am,” you say, nodding darkly. “We don’t have full reports yet on the outcome of Operation: Sol Invictus, but other Legion uprisings must have met with success because Admiral Franks, the Storm Lord, wants to turn the various operations we have on Mars into a full-fledged campaign against the enemy. You’ll get more details on the operation later.” Captain Sekhmet opens a drawer and removes something. “How many men will be under my command, Captain?” you ask. “I don’t know yet. You’ll meet them all soon enough.” She slides a small red badge across the desk. “Take off your yellow badge and replace it with this. You’re no longer a grunt infantryman. You’re a Commander now.” As you fix the red badge to your beaten, battered, and bloodied space suit, Captain Sekhmet continues. “Your team will be called the Parsapura Eagles. Appropriate, don’t you think?” You are shocked as the memory of an eagle with flaming wings arrests your attention; for a moment you wonder if the Captain is somehow cognizant of the dream you had that even Sybel did not dare interpret. After a moment you realize that the Captain would have no way of knowing about such a dream. “Parsapura?” you say. “What’s that?” Captain Sekhmet smiles strangely, then she says. “It was the capital of Persia. According to your brother, you should know that.” “Oh… but I… I don’t remember much that happened before the Invasion, ma’am.” “So you say. Anyhow, Parsapura is the same as any other large city on Earth: It’s nothing but a smoking crater. It lives now only in memory. Not yours, it seems, but for humanity as a whole. You’ll have to turn your team of rookies into something that will honor the memory of that city. Isn’t that so, Commander?” Captain Sekhmet’s tone lets you know that she is not really asking you a question. “Yes, ma’am!” you say, forcing your will into your voice. “And you, Senex,” she says, turning to the old man. “When we dump Cromulus and his Parsapura Eagles on Mars, they’re going to need eyes and ears in the sky. Admiral Franks is going to send enough ships to hopefully hold the area around Masada, the contested capital of Mars on Olympus Mons. You’ll be on one of those ships, and it will be your job to get any useful information you can about the lay of the land to Cromulus and his men. Understood?” Your mind wanders as the old man loses no time launching into a droning tirade about his need for a decent chair in the new tech center and how his old chair was destroying his back. He seems to miss a dozen “subtle cues” that the Captain is enraged beyond belief that he would dare say anything other than “yes” followed by “ma’am.” You think back on how you were practically born on a battlefield, how you had to fight to survive and use everything you could find to crawl through space and make your way back home to the Penelope’s Vengeance. You have learned much, including how to work with a team to defend your home and pull of a combat operation of incredible complexity against an overpowering foe. You have even learned first-hand that the human fanatics, men and women willing to go to any length to fight for their species, may not be altogether welcome in an army created for the sole purpose of defending the human species. But now, thanks to the assistance of your former Commander and his ability to think ahead of those who, for some strange reason, stand against you, you have been put in a position where you can lead and influence others in the greatest challenge your species has ever faced. You are in awe of the peril, the responsibility, and the opportunity you have earned on this day. Captain Sekhmet excuses you and, in a daze, you and Senex roam the ship until you find a large panoramic screen that gives you a view of Neptune and the field of battle. Over an ocean-blue expanse, you can see the Blood Goose’s jury-rigged engine slowly take her away. You can dimly make out the Penelope’s Vengeance leaving in another direction, and you wonder if you will ever see her, or your old friends, ever again. Then the old man clears his throat and you look down at him. Despite his rough demeanor, you can almost make out something like a tear forming in one of his deep-set eyes. “Mars isn’t like Earth,” he says quietly. “It’s dusty and arid and it never wanted people to live there, no matter how hard we tried. I can’t believe anyone’s still there. I assumed they died soon after the Invasion. At some point, the only people willing to go to Mars were the type who wanted to get away from tyrannical governments and cut-throat businesses. They were willing to put up with living in hell as long as they could keep the dream of freedom alive… no matter how miserable their living conditions.” He pauses, then continues. “Mars… Mars isn’t like Earth. Earth is beautiful. It’s lush and green and… well, I always thought I hated Earth. I thought I hated the people, the wars, the lies, the greed, the corruption. But now… now I just want to go back. I wonder if we’ll ever see Earth again. I wonder if we’ll ever get to walk on green grass, or feel a rainstorm, or smell something other than grease or plastic or cold metal.” “You hated Earth?” you say, taken aback. “Yeah, I did. I thought I did. I just wanted to help out. But… but the way people were, they didn’t need my help. But I’ll try to help you. I’ll be looking down on you. I’ll be your eyes and ears, just like she said. I’ll keep you and the others out of danger so you can do your job and help us take one more step toward going back home. Because we’ve got to get back home, son.” The old man finally smiles, then he says, “I guess that’s worth fighting for, isn’t it, Commander Cromulus?” To be continued in Heavy Metal Thunder Book Three: Red Sands of Masada
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 17:24
|
|
|
Are you going to do a a recap of the stuff we missed? Or maybe one for the entire series once we're done with it? Edit - Oh wait, is the third book even out?
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 17:43
|
|
|
Xander77 posted:Are you going to do a a recap of the stuff we missed? Or maybe one for the entire series once we're done with it? no 
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 19:00
|
|
|
I'm going to assume that's a no to the second part. Probably never coming out, since the second book was written in 2012? Anyways, it was a fun ride. Tell us if we missed anything interesting, and let's wrap this up.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 19:08
|
|
|
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhXUutpELRA
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 19:19
|
|
|
A few things I know that we missed: -- It's possible to catch the assassin who tried to kill the Captain early in Book Two, if you have the right stats; he implies that Captain Smiling Jack was the one who put out the hit, which sets up part of what was going to be the major plot in book three -- conflict within humanity rather than just fighting the aliens. -- With high Charisma, you can hit on Demeter successfully and make a date for after the mission. Since you never get back to the ship you miss your date but you still get to lord it over the old man when he admits he never even spoke to her -- It is possible for Heimdall to live, and for Wolf Tits to die, though it is much harder for Wolf Tits to be killed off since he has to get shot twice to finish him off. I have no idea how to keep Heimdall alive, but there's checks on whether he died all the way up to the very end. -- Somehow, "Kyle Stiff" is the author's real name.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 20:19
|
|
|
This was an awesome ride. Thank you!
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 20:39
|
|
|
I'm glad people had fun with it. Gamebooks are something I enjoy a lot and it is cool that they are making a comeback! Here's some stuff from an interview with Kyle: quote:Where did you get the inspiration for Heavy Metal Thunder? That's from 2014, so hopefully we may yet see more of Cromulus's adventures, especially if that android port does well. I know these books are silly, but you can tell he's really excited about what he's writing and I think that's part of what makes them so charming. If anyone has suggestions for cool gamebooks I should check out, I'd love to hear them -- I'm always on the lookout for new ones. corn in the bible fucked around with this message at 21:09 on Apr 26, 2015 |
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 21:04
|
|
|
corn in the bible posted:I'm glad people had fun with it. Gamebooks are something I enjoy a lot and it is cool that they are making a comeback! Alternately (seriously) Sorcery for the IPhone, which I've been told is actually quite good
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 21:08
|
|
|
Xander77 posted:Your next LP should be of Lone Wolf. This forum LP'd the original games a dozen times, now it's well past time to play the steam version. I don't even really like Lone Wolf, I think the dice combat is weird and makes them unnecessarily frustrating to play through. A lot of early gamebooks have that problem -- the most obvious being Fabled Lands, which people hold up as the Best Series Ever but which occasionally has quests that require you to just move back and forth between entries until you either roll a 12 or give up from boredom. Bad design. Actually, though we wound up dying a lot in HMT by the end there, it's actually got a lot to recommend it, design-wise -- each time you die, it gives you a link to a standard point at which victory was possibilities, and if you noted your status when you reached that point you can load your saved game and keep on going. There is no randomness, so you know that if you had just made different choices you could have succeeded, and even the most dangerous combat usually gives you bonuses for multiple skills -- and if you lose, you're wounded but never die instantly. For all the 80s SciFi nonsense, the gamebook mechanics are themselves very modern and enjoyable, and it's reasonable that someone would be able to play through it fairly without becoming too frustrated.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 21:16
|
|
|
Oh hey, I wrote my post before you even made the edits. Funny how that worked out.corn in the bible posted:I don't even really like Lone Wolf, I think the dice combat is weird and makes them unnecessarily frustrating to play through. A lot of early gamebooks have that problem -- the most obvious being Fabled Lands, which people hold up as the Best Series Ever but which occasionally has quests that require you to just move back and forth between entries until you either roll a 12 or give up from boredom. Bad design.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 21:55
|
|
|
gg once again crow as i said earlier, this silly scifi + heavy metal stuff really takes me back to the tabletop rpgs i used to play as a kid
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2015 22:26
|
|
|
The world needs more silly, fun stuff like this. If you'd like to know more, there's a game of 3:16 running in trad games at the moment.
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2015 01:42
|
|
|
I think that Skyfall would be a logical next step.
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2015 02:19
|
|
|
That was great fun. Thanks, Corn. An interview that the author did last month suggests book 3 this year, btw. http://www.lloydofgamebooks.com/2015/04/april-to-z-b-is-for-kyle-b-stiff.html
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2015 15:37
|
|
|
In addition to using different weapons and having different stats, something that might have helped our survival would have been investing in better armor. We had a vest worth 2 protection but I vaguely remember seeing something that offered 4 protection for sale and 2 Blood every failed combat check adds up.
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2015 19:01
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 29, 2024 11:09 |
|
|
I have begun a new CYOA LP project, which you can find here: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3716503 it may be enlightening to some of you, because 
|
|
#
?
Apr 28, 2015 04:46
|
|