|
Pfft, I'm sure the cyclone torpedoes' machine spirits know the difference between a little promethium fire and a warhead detonation emergency, right? They'll be fiiiiiine. D 
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 09:39
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 26, 2024 21:47 |
|
|
Yay the CYOA is alive! D  Time to get ourselves killed! Xun fucked around with this message at 10:30 on Sep 4, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 10:23
|
|
|
Waci posted:D, but blame Jeb Let's
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 10:31
|
|
|
E Prevent the ship from blowing up while Red 5 drives off. Then, announce that the race was actually a secret test of character to see who's mind was the most focussed on keeping the ship intact in the event of a (totally planned) catastrophe like this. Declare yourself the winner.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 12:08
|
|
Serpentis posted:Oh, wow. Agreed, screw the race, prevent more damage!
|
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 12:18
|
|
|
Serpentis posted:Oh, wow. I concur
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 12:27
|
|
|
Hasn't anyone here ever played Battletech? C I feel like we may have lost sight of our original goal somewhere in all of this.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 13:23
|
|
|
paragon1 posted:Hasn't anyone here ever played Battletech? C I grew up on Battletech, yes  and I think "I feel like we may have lost sight of our original goal somewhere in all of this" is the mantra of every Dark Heresy game ever. . edit: Early voting still, but the "stop explosion/bomb the finish line/blame Jeb/declare self winner" faction is going strong. a x b c x d x x x x x e x x x x x x x Loel fucked around with this message at 13:54 on Sep 4, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 13:51
|
|
|
Edit: Changing my vote to Asehujiko's E. Asehujiko posted:E Lanky Coconut Tree fucked around with this message at 19:21 on Sep 4, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 14:13
|
|
|
Asehujiko posted:E HAHAHA yes!
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 15:08
|
|
|
Asehujiko posted:E Please do this.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 15:30
|
|
|
Asehujiko posted:E Then have everyone who cries foul turned into servitors.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 16:41
|
|
|
Asehujiko posted:E E This is the only viable option.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 20:14
|
|
|
Asehujiko posted:E This is proper Imperial Noble and Techpriest thinking, right here.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 20:41
|
|
|
I really don't like the idea of someone reporting that we detonated a couple of cyclone torpedoes on purpose.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 20:46
|
|
|
A) Follow red 5 x C) Death from above x D) Bomb the finish line, blame jeb x x x x x x E1) Prevent explosion, blame jeb x x x x E2) Prevent explosion, declare self winner x x x x x, x x My plan is to chomp out the next thing tomorrow between classes. It'll be easy to combine Jeb/declare self winner, but the current poll has more explosions: 6 less explosions: 11 Loel fucked around with this message at 21:10 on Sep 4, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 21:06
|
|
|
Changing from E1 to E2. I just want us to stop the explosion.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 21:49
|
|
|
Changing my vote to E2, my love of skullduggery has overcome my love of comically large explosions.... this time.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 22:02
|
|
|
E2 is perfect. I was waiting for the game to pick back up, but echoing what a few others have said - even though I have zero prior knowledge on the source material, so far this has been highly entertaining. Thanks LowellDND, and keep it up!
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2014 22:42
|
|
|
Nuclear combat toe to toe with the Rooskies What separates the holy image of Man from the animals is our ability to Think. Animals live moment to moment, stimulus-response, a twitching morass of confusion and activity. Heretics aren’t much better, pursuing their baser urges, and xenos are indifferentiable from the animals. They simply react to their environment with no thought about their goals or the methods to reach them. Quietly, it is said by worshippers of the Omnissiah that the basic form of Humanity barely rises any farther. It is the cold embrace of the Machine which allows true analysis, the sterile stochastic models and predictive heuristics that have allowed the Tech-Priests of Mars to dictate a galaxy. And it’s what allows you to survive this moment now. After you overcome your (brief, unseemly) moment of animal impulses (scream in terror, evacuate your fluid bays), your implants buffer your will, allowing to you to focus on rational decision making, overriding your natural panic. Firstly, the race is irrelevant. The potential initiations of world devastators are the only important thing, nay, the only thing in your world. Secondly, the launcher tubes that suffered Jeb’s breach (curses upon his name) can otherwise hold or redirect detonations of most models, venting them into space with minimal damage to the ship. Your only focus, then, is to get the Cyclonic Torpedo nested into a new torpedo bay. It, and you, are currently falling in the wrong direction, and the tube you can observe from here is across two kilometers of debris, rubble, bodies, and secondary detonations of various scales. In a moment that lasts forever, you map out a possible route of gravity eddies, slingshot effects, pressure waves, and broken machinery that could be used to redirect a path. Complex three dimensional equations flicker across your mind, and your fingers respond instantly. Your servitor rattles forward, the independent tracks balancing easily along the shifting terrain, as you bounce ever downwards, your eyes narrow targeted at that slowly falling ten meter avatar of armageddon. It is dented in places, blistering hot in others. The various exigencies of this impromptu battlefield have made their mark on it, but the Tech-Priests of Mars know their trade. The frame is holding, for now. The servitor lands on it with a great thump, the treads immediately melting into the metal as he shrieks in simulated pain. He will be a mobility kill after this, needing repairs for replaced tracks, but that is irrelevant if this fails. The torpedo increases its spin at the impact, making a normal human dizzy. Ignoring his pleas, you order the launch of the gravity pods, increasing the rotation, pushing the torpedo into a nearby vent of plasma fire. The heat of it makes the machinery of the servitor scream even more, but accomplishes the task, but now you must deal with this new task. Your gravity, and perspective, have now shifted, and now you are falling the length of Between, the entire race track laying before you. Its changed radically even in the few moments you’ve been away, with energy flaring in strange colors, kilotons of debris floating and falling in assorted directions, and everywhere the smells of superheated Prometheium. At that moment your eyes detect another flare of intense radiation, more than even you can survive, and you know that it is time to act. Shifting your weight, and that of your servitor, you are able to direct your fall very slightly. More so, you are able to maneuver the spin of the fall, with the mass of the torpedo being pushed or pulled this way or that, slamming through or bouncing against floating piles of metal, being dragged along flashes of gravity waves, pressure of heat and blast moving you as you need. Your skin is burnt, the metal implants blistering to the touch, and your servitor is barely recognizable. But still you persevere. As you approach the last few hundred meters, it feels as if you are descending into the depths of your Forge World. Promethium is coming down in napalm falls, highlighting changes in gravity as it dances through the air. You push through curtains of sparks literally acres in size, and all the around you is the music of the forge - a hissing, shrieking, pounding cacophony. If it weren’t so terrifying, with the price of failure so high, you would think it beautiful. The Machine-Spirits at the loading tube appear eager to serve. Gripper arms extend and grip the torpedo, bringing into the launching bay and clicking into place. The feeder at the tribes themselves require brute human strength, but this section, where hundreds of torpedoes are reloaded from bays in orbit, is fully supported by Machine-Spirits. Your servitor shrieks once again as its treads are ripped from it, going into the tube with the torpedo, but you scarcely notice from your sigh of relief. It can kind of hobble, slowly, on gears not made to touch the floor, but that’s enough for you. There are maintenance corridors all through the loading tubes, to check for jams and do maintenance on the Machine-Spirits, and you use these to great effect. It probably isn’t even an hour from Jeb’s initial failure to your arrival at the nominal finish line. Where, you notice with baleful gaze, Red-5 is receiving the adulation of the crowds. His remarks are indecipherable at this distance, given the occasional small explosion behind him, and clatter of machinery that fall out of their gravity eddies. Time to put an end to that. You grab your servitor, extend mechadendrites into it’s throat where the vox caster is placed, and reach out your voice. The machine lacks the full 130 decibel capacity it had during the races, but it will serve your purposes. Your voice smashes through whatever Red-5 was trying to say, and the crowd quails before the intensity of your augmented voice. “Loyal servants of the God-Emperor! You have passed the Test of the Rogue Trader. Even coming from separate worlds, you have shown your devotion to the Omnissiah and the God Emperor, and their servant and representative in this world, the Rogue Trader. Let this event be remembered by further races and celebration, the day that a new tribe joined this clan in service to the Machine Spirit!” The crowd cheers at this, and cheers more as you feel a pressure at your hip. Looking down, you see your Cyber-Mastiff, having survived her trip with Jeb (cursed be his name), and in fact dragged him out of fire and flame! She is battered, scored with plasma damage, but seems in good spirits. Jeb, meanwhile, is deservedly covered in burns and is barely recognizable, but his thumbs up brings further cheers from the crowd. You continue, your voice dominating the vast chambers of Between, strange echoes returning to you. “As you know, it is my Holy Mission to determine readiness of the ship’s crew in events of catastrophes such as these. As you know, some trial have included prizes from Family! This trial was to show readiness in case of torpedo loading breach, and as I myself have shown you the best methods, I award myself 500 thrones!” The crowd starts to cheer at the mention of prizes, but settles into a sullen silence as you determine the winner. Well, to the void with them. If they wanted a prize they could have replaced the torpedo. “And with the race now over and winner determined, let us have our wedding!” - I spent all your fate points to survive that  but I figure we were near the end of the session, so it was as good a time as any. I kind of hand-waved the bullet time - intense situations can sometimes have that effect, and you are augmented anyway. I used a bunch of your other resources too - your servitor is going to need some heavy repairs, and your cyber-mastiff could use a check up at the least. And you are suffering from radiation posioning. The detonations of all the explosions thus far will actually not be too bad - I was reading through some nuclear warfare notes, and the author (Stuart Slade) was saying a 1 megaton burst on London would leave 80% alive with 95% of their property. Bit of trivia that I decided to make use of. I don’t have the exact total for XP just yet, but I know you leveled. So let’s have a vote on that. A) Mechwright. This is the standard level 2 Tech-Priest. B) Acuitor Mech-Assassin. Do you like to kill things? This is for you. C) Factor of the Lathes. This makes you look mostly like a base line human. Diplomat type. D) Something Else Also, lets do another thing. 1) Stay for wedding, develop more stuff in the tribes of the gun batteries 2) Leave wedding, see other parts of the ship
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 08:51
|
|
|
C1 Factor of the Lathes and lets stay for the wedding to make sure that everything has worked out as planned. chin up everything sucks fucked around with this message at 19:40 on Sep 6, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 08:58
|
|
|
     C - If we're to be an inquisitor, this will be immensely helpful. 2 - gently caress em. my dad fucked around with this message at 09:17 on Sep 6, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:00
|
|
|
Also, I did some math. Easter egg XP = 100 4 fellowship tests (very easy) = 80 This was to find out how to unite the tribes and set that up 2 int tech use skills (routine) = 80 To drive your servitor 1 ballistic skill (average) = 50 This was launching the cyber-mastiff at Jeb 3 int tech use skills (challenging) 240 Servitor driving through explosions 1 fellowship test (easy) 30 The speech at the end = 580 available to spend 100 XP Awareness Search Shadowing Tracking Trade (Technomat) +10 Armourer +10 Wrangling Wrangling +10 Basic Weapon Training (Pistol) Basic Weapon Training (SP) Basic Weapon Training (Primitive) Pack Hunter (requires Tracking) Pistol Training (Las) Pistol Training (Primitive) Pistol Training (SP) Sound Constitution Wolf Pack Tactics (requires Wrangling) T Simple Advance Int Simple Advance WP Simple Advance 250 XP: WS Simple Advance BS Simple Advance Per Simple Advance 300 XP Peer (Adeptus Arbites) 500 XP ST Simple Advance AG Simple Advance So you can argue over that too 
Loel fucked around with this message at 09:16 on Sep 6, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:08
|
|
|
I like our dog and believe it should be our murderbuddy. Therefore: Tracking Wrangling Pack Hunter Wolf Pack Tactics Inquisitors live an die based on their ability to notice things. Therefore: Awareness note: I have no idea what these skills do. I'm going by what they're likely to be based on their name.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:17
|
|
|
my dad posted:I like our dog and believe it should be our murderbuddy. I added the stat advances, since I hadn't done that. They increase things like perception or intelligence, which might also be useful. Tracking lets you pursue enemies by their tracks, wrangling is the care and feeding of your murderbuddy, pack hunter gives you bonuses to tracking for every murderbuddy you have, and wolf pack tactics reduces their ability to dodge or parry when they are in combat with you and your murderbuddies. Awareness gives you a better chance of detecting ambushes. Loel fucked around with this message at 09:27 on Sep 6, 2014 |
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:17
|
|
|
C, for the reasons my dad mentioned. For advances, Simple Intelligence, Simple Toughness, Awareness, Wrangling, Wolf Pack Tactics.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:50
|
|
|
Give the half the cash prize to each side of the tribe as a wedding gift. Secure their loyalty for when we take over this hulk. Us there a progression option that helps us make and control bigger stupider explosions and mayhem? I vote for that. Can we get another paragraph on the aftermath of the wedding and then go face the music for
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 09:56
|
|
|
Not yet, but there will be. The acuitor mech-assassin is basically a cyborg ninja option, but there will be other options later that would make us functionally similar to a main battle tank.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 10:05
|
|
|
I was thinking more of what happens when a psyker rolls badly, but doing that on purpose. And then adding a bunch of promethium to the mix.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 10:24
|
|
|
B1 I forsee a lot of killing in our future. And let's go with my dad's suggestions for skills.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 10:26
|
|
|
Outrail posted:I was thinking more of what happens when a psyker rolls badly, but doing that on purpose. And then adding a bunch of promethium to the mix. Oh, in that case, no. We cannot summon a greater daemon soaked in promethium just yet. I think?
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 10:36
|
|
|
C1, and I concur with Waci's advance suggestions.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 11:33
|
|
|
Hmm ok. But as a tech priest would it be feasible at some point in the future to weaponize a warp drive and fire demons at people?
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 12:37
|
|
|
C2
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 13:12
|
|
|
Outrail posted:Hmm ok. But as a tech priest would it be feasible at some point in the future to weaponize a warp drive and fire demons at people? Remember the folly of Inquisitor Drogan.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 13:41
|
|
|
Drogan's only folly was that he lost.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 14:22
|
|
|
We should look into whoever was responsible for securing those torpedoes, stuff like that should be in reinforced munitions bunkers, not lying about where any flying racecar or exploding promethium tank can knock them loose.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 14:24
|
|
|
A1Waci posted:For advances, Simple Intelligence, Simple Toughness, Awareness, Wrangling, Wolf Pack Tactics.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 15:02
|
|
|
C1
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 15:16
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 26, 2024 21:47 |
|
|
Waci posted:C, for the reasons my dad mentioned. This sounds good to me. Next time we should get tracking and pack hunter.
|
|
#
?
Sep 6, 2014 15:17
|
|