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~Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.~ - Anonymous, sometime in the thirty-ninth millenium You are a soldier in service ot the God-Emperor of man. For years on end you've been with the Planetary Defense Force of your homeworld, ready to defend it against enemies foreign and domestic: The Heretic, the Mutant, the Traitor, perhaps even the Alien. When the call of duty that all planets are bound to, the transfer of PDF personnel to the holy imperial guard, you answered. The manner in which you answered could be very different from others: Perhaps you leaped at the chance to defend the Imperium with holy zeal, perhaps you were forced at length of a shotgun by determined clerks of the Adeptus Munitorum. It matters not to the Emperor, and whether you want to be or not, you are now ready for your first deployment in a Guard regiment. You are one of billions of soldiers conscripted every year, and no matter how you choose to approach the fact, you must fight the enemies of Man forever, or until the unlikely event that your regiment disbands and you can go home. Our tale takes place in Sub-Sector Barrenus, located somewhere in the northern Segmentum Ultima in the middle of the Centaurus arm. Barrenus is a grim place, often plagued by war, and some inquisitors have voiced fears that the Immaterium is weak in areas - Soldiers routinely go mad in the warp when transported between deployments! While Barrenites are generally very pious, many say they'd have to be, as enemies of many kinds beset them: Xenos like ork and eldar, rogue governors or tech-priests, and of course the all-pervasive threat of Chaos. War worlds are numerous: Lotarus, UH-69, Salusa Secundus, Corwax, Dinahra.. The list stretches on into eternity, and your fate is with nearly all possible certainty linked to a cold, unmarked grave on one of these battlegrounds.  Mandatory out-of-character information Welcome to my Dark Heresy CYOA! First things first, the game is set in the Warhammer 40,000 setting. If you do not now what that is, I suggest you check out the following resources: http://lexicanum.com (a decent wiki, look to the 40K one) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warhammer_40,000#Background and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperium_of_Man (a no brainer perhaps, but provides comprehensive information) Everyone is welcome to post votes, and posting votes in one thread does not commit you in any way to vote in the following updates. If you don't care too much about the details and want to get on with the character, skip the following and go to the next post! Also, a great way to know about fluff and flavour, and ask questions, is the Goon Warhams thread! I should like to have fresh participants either read and get a feel before posting, or have some prior experience with the setting. I reserve the right to discount votes that run completely against imperial nature, unless some prior influence or corruption has taken place. Also, the game works much like any other CYOA, you vote or make suggestions, I assense what sort of consensus we have and continue writing the story. My style will somewhat resemble that of Chaos Motor and Stop Making Sense, in that I will respect and incorporate suggestions from players, even if it might seem like there is only one course of action in a given situation. It makes for more potent roleplaying/writing, and opens for as much player participation as possible. Players familiar with Dark Heresy rules may also suggest specific combat actions present in the game, such as tactical advance, feints and so on, or the purchase of specific skills as we gain experience - Although I will of course explain things as comprehensively as possible to new players or others who don't have their books nearby. A Life of War will be the first installment of the game, provided our character survives. The premise here is that I will let you create a Guardsman conscript, and then let him and his battlegroup encounter (chosen from a custom table I made) enemies, challenges and situations that an Imperial guard company can realistically expect to meet. As some of you can guess, this means the odds can (and eventually will) be stacked extremely bad against you. I will give you a fair chance to survive somehow, so keep an open mind and remember that, as in real life, luck, having common sense and remembering your military training will get you back alive (usually in that order, too.). Perhaps, if the game works out and thrives, we can change the setting if our hero somehow escapes military service. I have some things written out in advance, but I won't rule out more open-ended developments like serving the inquisition or going solo! The setting for the game is Sub-Sector Barrenus, a collaborative writing project between me and the other four players in my gaming group, where we've played fifteen sessions as an imperial guard squad and about ten more with other characters. It is ripe with backstory, interesting worlds, antagonists and custom toys and places. I will post a sector map of Barrenus soon when I get a chance to scan it. I will update the thread at least twice a week, and it's sensible minimum, so don't count on more updates if I'm in a busy spot. Please bold your vote so I have a chance of quickly counting votes in a tight spot. As you will notice, there are many forge worlds, and many chances will come to play with the heavier toys should you live that long. But make no mistake, the galaxy will punish mistakes harshly, and you will need to do your best to see our hero through! Tias fucked around with this message at 11:39 on Jan 8, 2013 |
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Sep 16, 2009 19:43
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Changing this to be a placeholder for our character sheet, so we can keep track of XP, wounds and other exploits! Quint "Rat" Zetkin, 1st squad, 5th platoon, 11th Nallani Mechanized Infantry Batallion (3rd Company) - 56th Nallani Rifles, Callsign: Swift. Regiment Type: Mechanized Infantry, Airmobile/Armoured. Doctrines: Die-Hards, Hardened Fighters. CO: Major Arnit Artax (Traits: Maverick) Current Rank: 2nd Lieutenant. Fifth Platoon layout posted:1st Squad, HQ - 2nd Lt. Quint Zetkin. Former outfits: 2nd squad, 1st platoon, 6th company - 56th Nallani Rifles, Callsign: Reaper. 5th squad, 1st platoon, 6th company - 56th Nallani Rifles, Callsign: Piety. Accolades: Service ribbons - UH-69 pacification campaign, Ara campaign against the Ork. "The secret days" - A ribbon with Commissar-Colonel Holts livery. Earned for deniable activity in the Imperator Decisive Valley deep in the jungles of Tahm. Infantryman's Medal, Platoon Leader - awarded for holding the line against an enemy much more numerous than your platoon. Gave an I. Medal Class III citation to all men under you. Infantryman's Medal Class III - awarded for bravery during the assault on Hive Ortos during the UH-69 campaign. Triple Skulls - Awarded regiments that lose above 66% of their active strength in a single engagement without breaking formation or fleeing, in this case the 56th Nallani Rifles. Cross of Valour - For infiltrating a rebel camp and kidnapping two enemy VIPs under enemy fire on the second UH-69 campaign. Home World: Nalla is a Hive-class world. Worlds of the Imperium, abr. By Olavius Rebarius posted:The sprawling factory/housing constructs known as hives dot the, usually otherwise inhospitable, surface of these planets. Hives hold billions of citizens slaving away behind desks, in packing plants, factories or in the dilapedated, century-old hive under-sections where people eke out an existance among mutants, outlaws and scavvies. They cannot support themselves with food and are wholly dependant on farming worlds for food. Hivers, as hive worlders are known, are: hardy, charismatic, often criminal, extremely agoraphobic and good survivors in urban settings. Well-known hive worlds are Necromunda and of course Holy Terra, the capital world of the Imperium. Nalla is as densely populated as most hive worlds, and play a vital role in sector trade, as they make most of the bionics exported in the sector, and custom pieces fetch high prices. All Nallani have white or ice- and ash-blond hair by some genetic twist, some tech-priests have advanced the (possibly heretical idea) that long-term exposure to certain technologies have had this effect. They are fair-skinned, though many develop a tan from exposure to forges and factorum units. As a quirk, a great many citizens have cyber-lens for eyes, because the planet also makes and exports isotropic fuel rods, and the process by which elements are handled and assembled can produce blinding flashes that sear the retina away. In part due to this, it is a 'rite of passage' in many Nallani gangs and military regiments to have your retinas or the entire eye removed and replaced with cybernetic lens. Traits Accustomed to Crowds Quint grew up in a society of billions, and can navigate through even the densest masses with ease. This means no penalties or knockdown risks when charging or running through a crowd of people, no matter how thick. Caves of Steel In most of the Imperium, no one knows why machinery and technology works, just that it does, and under the tutelage of the Machine-Cult, worship it with great fervour as to not anger the spirits within the machine. As a hiver, Rat is a bit more used to technology than most, and surrounded by it all his life, it is not as much as arcane mystery as something he can relate to. In practice, this means he treats Tech-Use as a basic rather than an advanced skill, a handy knack indeed. Gift of Loud-Hailing Quint has received a poor-quality Vocal Implant. It allows Quint to amplify his voice considerably, increasing the chance that his orders are heard over background noise. On occasion it may fritz, blinding or even knocking him out as the feedback punches his inner ear. Hivebound Growing up in a hive hab-block, Quint feels only abject terror, bordering on religious dread, when under the open sky or in outdoors terrain. He suffers a penalty to survival tests when outside, and a penalty to intelligence tests when away from "proper habitation", that is, places without electric/plasma power, running water, manufactured goods or solid ceilings. Wary With gang shoot-outs, massive riots and hive-quakes more the rule than the exception in his life, Quint is constantly on his toes and alert to the world around him. He is one of the few lucky character types to have a bonus to Initiative rolls. Current statistics line (advances taken in parantheses) WS: 47 (+simple increase) BS: 36 (+simple increase) S: 36 (+simple increase) T: 34 (+intermediate increase) Ag: 44 (+simple increase) Int: 24 Per: 43 WP: 43 (+simple increase) Fel: 38 (+simple increase) Wounds total: 13 Total Fate Points: 2 Insanity Points: 25 Corruption Points: 6 Throne Gelt: 560 Injuries and scars Left arm amputated from the middle of the elbow out, simple artery stamp with a Vocal Implant (slightly used) replaces part of inner nose and vocal chords. Enormous, jagged chainsword scar along left bicep, inflicted by the treacherous leader of UH-69's governors personal guard. Psyker-healed pulse rifle wound from a Kroot rifle in the right thigh. Blotchy, crushed tissue on chest from a rebel officers bolt pistol on the second campaign of UH-69. Aptitudes Defence, Fellowship, Leadership, Perception, Strength, Toughness, Weapon Skill Skills Basic: Intimidate, Tech-Use. Trained: Awareness, Common Lore: Imperial Guard, Dodge+10, Inquiry+10, Operate (Aeronatics), Operate (Surface), Speak Low Gothic (Hive Dialect), Scholastic Lore: Tactica Imperialis, Swim, Survival. Advanced: Command, Literacy Talents Air of Authority, Hardy, Weapons Training (Primitive, Chain, Las, Solid Projectile), Literacy, Rapid Reload, Resistance (Fear), Peer (Imperial Guard), Street Fighting, Sound Constitution(2), Quick Draw. Equipment, worn, carried and stashed: Worn and installed Dark blue fatigues and uniform, dog tags with name and regiment, Barrenus Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, steel-capped boots. Bionics: Common Quality Cyberlens (both eyes), bionic arm (good quality). Armour: Flak jacket, flak pants, Carapace helmet (Armour Flak values: Leg 4, Arms 4, Body 4, Head 4). Armaplas shield (Adds +15 to parry checks, can be wedged in front of Quint to provide a bit of cover with a full action). Weapons Bayonet knife, Chainsword of unknown manufacture (customized grip upgrade), Minerva-Taranor "Ripper" Short Magazine automatic las-rifle, Nallani-pattern Laspistol, Uvris-pattern "Steel Claw" Imperial Navy officer's sidearm, Decimus-Pattern "Steel-boot" Shotgun. Mk. 9-70 Entrenching tool. 2 Mk. III Decimus-pattern Frag grenades, 4 smoke grenades, bandoleer-belt with 3 jury-rigged Fire grenades. 3 One-use 'Exterminator' weapon attachments. Odds and ends Gas Mask with Mk VIII filter, steel-shod factory boots, electrical tattoo marking your affiliation with The IIX Block Steelguard, your factory hive gang back on Nalla. Cloth-bag with collected throne gelt, the Emperors Coin. 6 packs of Lho-sticks, 3 bottles of double-distilled amasec. 2 doses of 'Slaught, Medikit w/5 doses of Stimm, disposable syringes and syrettes. Photo-Visor attached to helmet. Sliver of St. Ivar's bane-sword set in fossilized resin. ..and field gear: 56th Rifles field gear posted:
Achievements (in order of acquisition) Worthy of the Name Quint has killed more than a hundred foes, most in direct combat. While he may not be aware, the subconscious knowledge that he is a good killer makes him confident. Munitorum Approved You have killed an enemy using an Entrenching Tool. This makes you a raw fragger. Right Hand of Angels You completed a mission given to you by the Adeptus Astartes to the best of your ability. The feeling of confidence instilled by this feat makes Quint a harder warrior. No Cannon Fodder You made it to NCO without dying! This is pretty well done.. 'Arder Than Thou! You've defeated an ork boy in single melee combat! Touch me and Gain a Stump! You've lost a limb in Imperial service. Hero of the Regiment! For valor in combat and honest dedication to his regiment, Quint is considered a pillar of the 56th Rifles. He gains 100XP and the talent Peer(Imperial Guard), and +10% bonus to fellowship tests when interacting with a member of his regiment save Commissars*. Also, Guardsmen and Corporals receive +10% to Fear and Pinning tests when led by him. Selfless While self-sufficient, Quint is also somewhat soft-hearted in the face of adversity. He must make a willpower test to NOT aid a fallen squad- or regiment mate. Worthy To Rest By the Throne You've been named Veteran Guard. Much honor, and many trials, are attached to the word. This gives Quint 50 XP. Imperial Toast You've been set on fire! 25 XP. Mssionary You've succesfully built a chapel-trench and converted local citizens of a warzone. 50 XP. I'm the Ultimate Badass: Lictor You defeated a Tyranid creature in close combat, in this case a Lictor. This achievement is worth 50 XP. * This is cumulative with the +10% to interaction with all Guard members gained from the Peer talent, for a total of +20% to other members of the 56th. Easter Egg Rewards 7 ft Psychotic Tribesmen Can Be Hardcore, Too! The planet Porão and its glory regiment are both named for noted Brazilian HC/Punk band Ratos de Porão ("Basement Rats"). This achievement is worth 50 XP for Quint. Halt, I heard that before! Colonel-Commissar Holt is in fact from Games Workshops fluff, appearing as the player character leading the invasion of Volistad aginst the ork Warlord Skroll in the 40K-Epic computer strategy game Final Liberation - Now he has his eye set on the Barrenus sector, leading an unsuspecting Rat. This achievement is worth 25 XP for Quint. I have a queer feeling about this.. Through a strange twist of time and space, pursuing battle at the Kroot base camp in the Imperator Decisive valley seems oddly reminiscent of the Battle of Ia Drang between US airmobile and PAVN forces in November 1965. This achievement nets the guessing player 25 XP for Quint's character sheet advances. He who controls hordes of idiot green hooligans.. Salusa Secundus is inspired by Dune, correctly guessed! This achievement is worth 25 XP. Experience Experience Points: 4750 EXP spent: 4700 Trackers Wounds (Total 13) : 13 Fate points (Total 2) : 2 Ammo: Ammo for Lasgun, clip size 40 : 40 Ammo for Steel-Claw pistol, clip size 15 : 15 Ammo for Combat Shotgun, clip size 20 : 20 Remaining Loadout: 7 lasgun charge packs: 1 loaded, 6 full 1 laspistol charge pack: one loaded 2 clips for the Steel-Claw: 1 loaded, 1 full 18 Mars-pattern scatter shotgun shells: 6 loaded, 12 in loose weight. 1 Fire bombs, 1 carried. 4 smoke grenades, 2 carried. 3rd Company Banner. Tias fucked around with this message at 14:41 on Jul 28, 2015 |
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Sep 16, 2009 19:57
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Character Gallery Work in progress, sorry. Squad In our squad we are currently acquianted with: Flavia, a nice-looking girl with criminal brands on the cheek, a right hard bastard and our grenade launcher specialist. Quint's one-time lover. Trantor, brother of the now deceased Intius. He is a competent warrior and former ganger. Good with an axe in hand. Marya, a man apart in that he grew up on the agri/imperial-world Ara, and has never seen a hive. A good point scout, owns a camouflage-pattern cloak and wields a designated marksman loadout: A Decimus-pattern Long Las with magnification scope and a hot-shot overcharge pack. "Stub" Zane, a man you've known since your first combat drop, good with a pistol, and faster with a smart remark. Nicola, Aran rifleman, medic, has medi-kit. Max, Nallani rifleman. Quick thinker, could be a rebel in the making. The NCOs under Quint, attached specialists and sundry psycho killers Garal "Ram" Millicent, ordained Tech-Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Allegedly a kind of frontline operator for the AM, but has been demoted to serve as Guard liaison for reasons unknown. Also, he drove your squad through an ork fortification wall. In a train. Weaponsmith and knows his way around cybernetics and all kind of arcane machinery in a pinch. Father James Kraken. Originally a Catachan jungle fighter, Kraken has seen the light: Inspiring men by way of brutal close combat in the name of the God-Emperor. Physically fearsome, and really good with close quarters weaponry in general. The Brass Regis who used to be in our squad, now a captain with staff. Has a mysterious relationship with a storm trooper captain, and used to be our primary friend in high places. Major Artax is our company commander, and has taken a shine to Quint 'cause he's good at solving military problems. Staff Captain Jenit Anx is a real hardass, and a top leader of our former gang to boot. Executive Captain Crates is a storm trooper captain, close with Regis. Colonel-Commissar Archon Holt, commander-in-chief of army groups the 56th Rifles have served. Extremely proficient, but extremely frightening. Have it your way! Roll of Honour Meton - Original heavy gunner, killed during your first combat drop when thrown against the pod hull. Estas - Former squad leader, killed leading the charge on hive Ortos during the UH-69 campaign. Intius - Trantor's brother, loyal and good man, shot by a commissar for wrongful reasons while holding Hill 295 in the Aran campaign. Ox - Heavy Stub gunner, solid if dense young man who died heroically on Hill 295 defending a machine gun site from orks. Nominated post-humously for the Star of Barrenus. Kayla and Vydas, Aran conscripts killed by orks on Ara. Tilla - Original squad member, unpleasantly dedicated imperialist who died in a hail of stub gun fire on the second UH-69 campaign. A string of conscripts who died before you could really know them. Current Ride Rusty utility hauler, gotten from the Rebels. Light armor plating, decent handling, slow speed. Other Vehicles in Regiment His Wraths Inescability, Turkey-class Rotorship:  Traits: Troop transport, heavy weapon pintle, nose-mounted Autocannon. Tias fucked around with this message at 15:29 on Oct 2, 2015 |
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Sep 16, 2009 20:30
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Looking exciting already. It's 23:20 CET here in Denmark, so I'll be getting some shuteye, and then doing a final tally and the next update when I get up in the morning. In the meantime, repent your sins and praise the God-Emperor.
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Sep 16, 2009 22:19
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We have a tie. Going to let this roll on for one hour sharp, and then update. Votes are stuck between Hive World and Void-Born, but Schola Progenum is nearly up there (5 votes for HW and VB, 4 for Schola).
Tias fucked around with this message at 10:59 on Sep 17, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 10:55
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CaptainHaddock posted:Hive World since the OP seems to want it as well. Just voted that for fun and games. If you want something else more yourself, please go ahead and change your vote.
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Sep 17, 2009 11:21
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Leaving voting open for the time it makes me a sandwhich, then closed for update  Voting is closed. Hive World: 7 Void Born: 5 Schola Progenum: 4 Mind-Cleansed: 1 Feral World: 1 Update within the hour. Tias fucked around with this message at 12:11 on Sep 17, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 11:59
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The character so far Our character is a hiver, therefore possessing a number of traits: Accustomed to Crowds The character grew up in a society of billions, and can navigate through even the densest masses with ease. This means no penalties or knockdown risks when charging or running through a crowd of people, no matter how thick. Caves of Steel In most of the Imperium, no one knows why machinery and technology works, just that it does, and under the tutelage of the Machine-Cult, worship it with great fervour as to not anger the spirits within the machine. As a hiver, our character is a bit more used to technology than most, and surrounded by it all his life, it is not as much as arcane mystery as something he can relate to. In practice, this means he treats Tech-Use as a basic rather than an advanced skill, a handy knack indeed. Hivebound Growing up in a hive hab-block, the character feels only abject terror, bordering on religious dread, when under the open sky or in outdoors terrain. He suffers a penalty to survival tests when outside, and a penalty to intelligence tests when away from "proper habitation", that is, places without electric/plasma power, running water, manufactured goods or solid ceilings. Wary With gang shoot-outs, massive riots and hive-quakes more the rule than the exception in his life, our man is constantly on his toes and alert to the world around him. He is one of the few lucky character types to have a bonus to Initiative rolls. Current stats: WS: 40 BS: 31 S: 31 T: 24 Ag: 35 Int: 24 Per: 29 WP: 37 Fel: 33 Wounds total: 11 Fate Points: 3 Insanity: 0 Corruption: 0 Thrones: 75 Skills: Basic: Speak Low Gothic (Hive Dialect), Tech-Use, Swim OR Drive Ground Vehicle. Talents: Melee Weapons Training (Primitive), Basic Weapons Training (Las), Pistol Weapons Training (Las) and Basic Weapons Training (Solid Projectile). Here's the roll-up. While I principle would allow a reroll if there's sentiment for it, it's one of the best rolls we could end up with. He has maximum possible Weapon Skill, a real asset in a world where hand-to-hand combat can and will happen. Average strength, perception and ballistic skill is as much as could be hoped for, and while his toughness is markedly on the weak side, he has average wounds and strong willpower as well as a whopping 3 fate points, which is uncommonly high for a hiver. Tias fucked around with this message at 13:16 on Sep 17, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 13:06
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We now have a number of choices to make. Fluff-wise, the most important is which planet we come from. Barrenus Hive Worlds and their associated regiments are shown here:"Lexicanum Barrenus; Adeptus Munitorum sub-manual U-B-XG122.5 posted:Columna IV = 88th Columna Black Devils Then we have to vote on a Guardsman secondary skill. We have to pick either Swim og Drive Ground Vehicle. Both of which are extremely handy, so it could go either way. And then we have to pick an upgrade pack, of which I've made three to vote on: All-Round: +5 Weapon Skill increase +5 Ballistic Skill increase Pistol Training (Solid Projectile) +1 Wound Assault: +5 Weapon Skill increase +5 Strength increase Awareness Pistol Training (Solid Projectile) Practical: +5 Ballistic Skill increase Swim or Drive Vehicle (The Guardsman Sec. skill we don't vote in) Awareness +1 Wound tl;dr: Cast three votes: - one on our home planet and regiment (Columna, Nalla or Rodiah. What you pick decides equipment and talents) - one on which secondary skill (Swim og Drive Ground) we'll select - one on which upgrade package we get (All-round, Assault or Practical), their name describes roughly what aspect of military life they make our man better at. Voting is open for approximately seven or eight hours, so get cracking trooper! Tias fucked around with this message at 13:54 on Sep 17, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 13:15
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MasterSlowPoke posted:- Catachan II Read the post, our character hails from a hive world.
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Sep 17, 2009 14:26
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Nalla, and the 56rh Nallani Rifles win. Closed till update in about 10 min Our 'odds and ends rolls' present us with the following character stats: Wiry, stands 175 cm tall and weight 65 kilogram, with tan skin, and the white/ice blond hair common to all Nallani citizens. His eyes are replaced with common-quality cyberlens of the colour green (it is common to replace the lens with the colour the conscript had eye colour before). Our quirk is an electoo, likely describing clan or gang affiliation, and our hive class is Factory Dreg, meaning we worked in a manufactorum for one of the great hive clans. Our hive memento is a pair of steel-capped boots (fitting!), and that's about it. Our choice means we are in possession of the following equipment: Dark blue fatigues and uniform, dog tags with name and regiment, Barrenus Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, steel-capped boots. Bionics: Common Quality Cyberlens (both eyes) Armour: Flak jacket, flak pants, flak helmet (Armour Flak values: Leg 4, Arms 4, Body 4, Head 2) Weapons: Bayonet knife, Nallani field broadsword, Mk. III Nallani-pattern Lasgun, Nallani-pattern Laspistol, Decimus-Pattern "Steel-boot" Shotgun. Odds and ends: 2 las charge packs, 12 Mars-pattern scatter shotgun shells, and field gear: 56th Rifles field gear posted:2 weeks of freeze-dried rations, in this case grox giblets, mineral cubes, crackers and nutrient-enriched starch sauce - as well as a Las-burner, pan and cutlery to eat it with. Tias fucked around with this message at 20:00 on Sep 17, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 19:57
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Allright, then we're almost good to go. I'm placing an updated character sheet in the OP, now we just need a name. In Barrenus citizens usually have a first name that's low gothic, a second name that's slightly more archaic, and in the case of hivers, almost always a nickname as well. For instance, Fral "Shiv" Titus or Strang "Stubber" Jerichus. You get the idea - suggestions available here: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/dhnames.html All suggestions welcome, we reach a consensus instead of voting this time. In the meantime, here's an opening teaser - next update might not be for a while, but I'll do my best
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Sep 17, 2009 20:20
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998.300.M39, Unknown Space, Sub-Sector Barrenus, Segmentum Ultima It seems like a month since you arrived aboard His Wraths Inescapability, an Irae-class troop cruiser. You've only felt lost aboard the huge vessel - Had you known it was almost five hundred years old and displaced 120,000 metric tonnes it would have meant nothing. In your life what has been before your eyes and in your hands has been what mattered, not weighty schematics and grandiose declarations. Before arriving you had been transporting engine parts between manufactorums for the great clan Havelock, followed by long stints in the Hive C Worker Guard, and putting autogun slugs or the tip of your knife in the dregs dumb enough to steal from clan warehouses. Field-stripping a lasgun has become second nature to your tech-savvy hands, and you can memorize small group tactics from the Barrenus Infantryman's Uplifting Primer by rote. Woe to the sump rat dumb enough to stand before you! Or that's what the lieutenant kept telling you on the way, at least.. No matter. You have no way of being certain. What you ARE certain of, however, is that it is all about to go down soon. Along with the 'Rifles, the 9th Yekrej Guards and 3531th Penal Regiment are currently on board if the Adeptus Munitorum quartermasters word can be trusted, but you've seen nothing of these other troopers, except for the occasional scared looking agri-worlder in green fatigues passing your quarters. Seems hivers have quite the reputation with those yokels, but then, it's not like we have not done anything to deserve it - in the first weeks, several troopers were lost to knife fights, and just two days ago a riot broke out during mess. But you got to hand it to the leadership, they don't mess around. Not only do they have Navy armsmen with shotguns aboard, they have also embedded commissars in our ranks. The mere thought of the massive Decimus-pattern bolt pistols they wave around like so many children's toys have scared every single trooper in your platoon to obedient silence, and there has even been a rise in company members attending religious services outside of the mandatory masses. You look to your troop. You're a rifleman in the 4th squad, 2nd platoon, 6th company, in the 56th Nallani Rifles. As a trooper, you get the sneaking suspicion that you're heading into some hot water indeed. Of course, no one mentions what exactly lies ahead, but if the casualties when factory clans or hive gangs go to war is anything to go by, the impressive resources arrayed in this ship alone has the capacity to wage a seriously bloody conflict. You take heart in the fact that you have a hive's worth of hardened men with you, and machine guns and grenade launchers in your very platoon. Your leaders must know what they're doing, surely, they have their mandate from the God-Emperor of mankind after all.. You snap out of your anxious muse looking at the greasy steel floor by an alert of some kind. Scouring your mind, you curse your memory for not recognizing it, the sergeant could have your rear end for this. After a fashion it explains itself as the klaxon ends and a female voice: "We will enter warp space in 5 minutes. Recite prayers of warp travel and maintain optimal productivity. Praise the Emperor!" Your heart sinks. poo poo just got real. Tias fucked around with this message at 13:38 on Sep 21, 2009 |
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Sep 17, 2009 20:23
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Heh, I did fix it though. I grabbed the stats for an old escort vessel I whipped up, and I forgot that they're no bigger than WW2 gunboats. But focus on finding a name, you apes! The rest will work itself out
Tias fucked around with this message at 12:25 on Sep 18, 2009 |
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Sep 18, 2009 11:45
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Lord Commissar posted:More like "Mongol" in this case.  Cain seems to be a hit, are we in agreement on first name, or does Xerxes bear consideration? Jaghatai is perhaps too archaic for your general hiver (the name stems from a planet clean across the universe, and is over 10,000 years old at the time of our characters birth. Tias fucked around with this message at 14:41 on Sep 18, 2009 |
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Sep 18, 2009 14:39
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Ze Pollack posted:On the one hand, yeah, it's a name from the other side of the universe, but on the other hand he's one of the super big-time saints. And as any Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Bart, Peter, Simon, Thomas, or Philips in the audience can tell you, they get a decent amount of naming respect. Oh, I'm down with whatever. Just saying.. Also, 
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Sep 18, 2009 15:52
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I really like the "Last Chancers" omnibus, if only for a look at how grim the Imperial Guard really is sometimes. That said, could you try and ask these questions in the Warhams thread? I'd like to get started on the game tomorrow or the day after Thanks.
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Sep 18, 2009 19:26
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In the interest of getting on with it, how about a vote? First names: Roth Cain Xerxes Quint Nick names: "Rat" "Mongrel" "Dekko" Last names: Zetkin Jhagatai Dorn Remember, one vote for each, as the name has all three composites, and even though you have written with name suggestions, please resubmit your vote. I will close and update tomorrow evening, which means you have approximately 24 hours to vote in. In the meantime, I'll get on writing a good update, aight? (We really need an inquisitor smiley) Tias fucked around with this message at 20:13 on Sep 19, 2009 |
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Sep 19, 2009 17:44
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Yeah, I was thinking we could have a formal vote. There's time enough, after all.
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Sep 19, 2009 20:12
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((Quint "Rat" Zetkin it is. I'd keep this open for a broader vote, but I'd like to get on with this.)) 998.300.M39 You move slowly, and it occurs to you that you should not be on the planet already. What could explain that you are already on the scorched surface of a planet, crawling out of the ruined metal structure of some sort of carrier vehicle, and firing your Mk. III lasgun wildly at the enemy? Before your sight, blurred both with the confusion brought on by adrenaline and a weird dark red haze hanging both in the heavens and close to your eyes, you see splashes of gore, men dissolved messily across the dirty ground or stained and broken metal. Here, one is brutally gunned down by an ominous figure you vaguely recognize as a commissar, the gunman harshly condemning the fallen mans cowardice. There, another is struck by grenade fragments and torn apart like a rag doll might be by the hands of a factory brute. Under the watchful gaze of your superiors, you charge, screaming your insane devotion and despair towards the heavens as an oncoming tidal wave of blood threatens to wash you away.. ..You wake in your bunk, crying out in terror. The ascetic mattress is soaked with your cold sweat, as are all your clothes. You know it to be a nightmare, yet it was more. As if you were really there, the gunsmoke, gore and fresh air seem to cling to you still, only disappearing when you smell yourself for the second time (or was it the third time? gently caress this ship. gently caress it bad!). Copping your last contraband rotgut from your foot locker, you manage to get to sleep again till the end of sleep cycle, and the slated time for exiting warp space. You get another five hours of unruly, dreamless sleep. Day-cycle You wake again to a truly jarring sensation, as if someone squeezed your inner ear and let it go again. Fighting off powerful nausea, you manage to crawl out of your bunk and splash some water in your face without purging. You hear sounds of retching, as several from your squad fail in controlling their resisting bodies. Suddenly, a pleasant female voice issues from ship speakers. "We have now left warp space safely. Thank the Emperor and have a productive day." You barely get your uniform on before your Sergeant, Quarl "Steelbreaker" Castus, start barking orders: You are all worth less to the Guard than rat poo poo if you can't work quicker! Also, you are to get ready for briefing. You fall in with your platoon, following your designated servitor. Some of the guys, not having seen a servitor before, give the man-machine a wide berth. As the servitor walks, an inbuilt vox-unit starts speaking in a deadpan voice not connected to its actual mouth. At the moment said mouth has nearly rotted away, but spittle still leaks down its neck, eventually dripping over the rectangular, wheeled contraption replacing its legs. "You have arrived in orbit around UH-69 II. The campaign against the eight PDF legions of the UH-69 system guilty of heresy by way of secession from the Imperium of Man - and associated rebel factions - has not progressed according to the original plan, and your task force is relieving elements of the 188th Tragus and Columna 86th regiments fighting on the second planet in the system. Commanding General Esix Julan has been stripped of command and punished accordingly for incompetence. You are now fighting under the stalwart leadership of General Jarlax Hessa, 188th Tragus." The servitor rattles off a list of service medals and commendations for correct interpretation of the Tactica Imperialis this Hessa has earned, and your mind wanders off with thoughts of the ill portent in your dreams and the coming action. Shortly after, you and your squadmates arrive in a large room with a circular area in the middle surrounded by ascending seating, as the pits commonly used for spectator sports like pit fighting on Nalla. The servitors droning commands show you to a row of seating, and the briefing process quickly starts. Your platoon commander, Lt. Atellus, stands by a large dataslate, going into the briefing the second everyone is seated. Seeing as only half your company is present, and as you hear a lot of distant murmuring, you assume hundreds of these briefings are taking place. "We are now officially part of the UH-69 campaign. You are aware why, so let us immediately get on with our duty of expediting the seditious citizens of this system to their grave" Some cries of approval are heard, while others are listening in tense silence. "We are deploying by drop to the main continent of UH II, as both UH I and III are totally controlled by enemy forces, and we do not yet have the orbital strength to secure a beachhead. Fighting is ongoing as I speak, and we may have to drop directly into a battle, if that is what it takes to relieve the Columnan and Tragus soldiers on the ground. We will drop in less than two hours, so see to your equipment, prayers and what ever else you must do before we act. Dismissed" Your platoon gets up, but before you can join them Sgt. Steelbreaker stops you. "So, Rat, the drill abbott told me you're the best swordsman in the platoon. We've been asked to move all capable close quarters personnel to first platoon, for a better chance to assault fixed rebel positions. Would you be willing to do that? Otherwise you'll be stuck in second wave shooting at googly-eyed rebels from afar, and that's a good way to get fragged by an artillery shell. Your call, but I needa know before the hour, allright?". This was unexpected. Not knowing the exact hazards of warfare you're unsure of how to reply, and instead make your way down to the camp followers - COs told you extra gear could make the difference and save your hide on the ground, so you decide to check it out. The camp followers reside in a defunct hangar, already swamped by soldiers from different regiments. The smell of gunsmoke, spices and unwashed bodies are thick, and it's hard to make out a good deal. Eventually a greasy abhuman - a very short, rugged figure with a great beard and shades smoking a cigar (Introduces himself as "Vrokvrok") - seems to have some good deals. Vrokvroks arms dealership, prices posted:
You currently possess 75 thrones, the currency of the Guard. ((Well, that could have gone better. Our character randomly received a vision in the warp, shaking him up bad and giving him 1 Insanity Point. We now have to do two things: Vote for what position in the attack we volunteer for, either staying in 4th squad, 2nd platoon in a fire team, or transfer to the command platoon and lead the charge; and decide on what, if anything, we want to buy. As we decided on the assault upgrade we can now use solid projectile pistol weapons without penalty, and as such a revolver or autopistol could be a handy backup weapon.)) Tias fucked around with this message at 13:37 on Sep 21, 2009 |
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Sep 20, 2009 21:59
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[meta discussion edited out] That's more like it, soldier! Tias fucked around with this message at 22:22 on Sep 20, 2009 |
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Sep 20, 2009 22:14
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998.301.M39 His Wraths Inescapability Camp Follower Hangar You study the squat, cigar-smoking figure carefully. Nallani dogma states that, while they must be tolerated for the imperial and Mechanicus war effort, abhumans are an abomination and must atone for their sins. This guy seems on the level, though, and an abhuman never did anything to you, did they? At your inquiry, Vrokvrok bangs the shield with a club. "Armaplas, that. Perfect for close quarters, can even stop a shell if you angle it right". He twists it slightly, pointing the main deflective surface upwards. "Has taken a few to be sure, so it's only 25 for you. Frag, I'll throw in a holster so you can draw that knife of yours quickly. Having it in your boot won't do if your hand weapon gets stuck, now will it? Haw haw." You pay Vrokvrok, strap on the holster, and add the shield to your drop gear back at the barracks. While there you add the Mk. 9-70 Entrenching Tool to the bundle as well. You recall Corporal Tilla saying we could need a bomb hole on short notice, and if your other weapons don't own up it looks like it could crack some skulls proper. On your way to the drop you see Steelbreaker, and inform him of your choice to transfer. He looks as if he's about to laugh, but stops short of a cruel sneer. "You're exactly the kind of man they need at Command. Cpl. Tilla and Troopers Intius and Trantor have 'volunteered' as well," - you don't like the way he says it - "so just follow them and report to Drop Hangar IV where 1st platoon leaves." You fall in with the others, and quickly introduce yourself to your new squad, 5th Squad, 1st Platoon, 6th Company. There's Sergeant Regis, a burly factoryman you recognize as being of Clan Havelock like you. He's a reassuring presence, looking like he could split a crane in two with his axe and bicep alone. Tilla, Intius and Trantor are mates of yours, solid squaddies who are sharp with a sword in hand, and then there's Flavia with the grenade launcher (her cheeks are branded with criminal markings, not that this lowers your estimate of her) and Meton with the heavy machine gun. Trooper Zane, known as "Stub" he informs you, offers you a lho stick; and the other two don't really stand out in your memory, anxious as you are to get on with it. The drop pods look as if they have seen better days, as they have been squashed by some sort of old battle trauma.. or perhaps they were designed by a stimm junkie. Cramped compartments fit ten men and gear, plus a servitor slaved to the shipboard cogitator engine. You get in without further ceremony, strap properly in, and wait for the drop to start. The doors close with a hiss, and klaxons start wailing outside. A cold mechanical voice (the servitor, likely) starts counting down, and on "descent" you feel the pod lurch heavily before Zero-G asserts itself and you glide through space. Small bolts, bits of rubbish and old ammunition shells float in graceful arcs through the air, and the squad seems relax a bit. Before the chatting starts Sgt. Regis cuts through. "This is a combat drop. We don't know how close to the front we'll land, so you may have to come out shooting. You new people better have the small tactics down cold, 'cause I don't wanta miss a single las-bolt when we set up, allright. The penal dogs have landed before us, so we should have some respite to attack the rural district we land in, and.." The rest is lost in a horrible blast of noise, and the powerful shaking leaves no room for listening or thoughts as the pod enters the atmosphere. The walls become uncomfortably hot, and the shaking becomes nearly unbearable, but you manage to stay from retching. Good thing too, no one wants to fight fatigued. After an uncertain amount of time passes - in the area of twenty minutes - the juddering stops, and bright light comes through the two small viewports in the drop pod. The servitor pipes in. "Prepare for impact". You note that the only protected seat in the pod is the one the servitor sits in. You'd be bitter about the relative price of your life compared to the servitor in the Munitorums judgment, if you did not have other things on your mind. Everyone looks a little bit lost. Regis breaks the silence again "This is it, arm your guns." - You comply, the whirr of the charge pack gearing up calms your nerves a bit - "Listen, when we hit the ground, just rem.." WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Everything goes black. 998.301.M39 Surface of UH69 II You come to, having no idea how long you were out. Probably just a short while. The force of impact have torn the doors off the drop pod and shredded part of the walls. All around you hear the crack of las-guns and hollow roars of grenade explosions. Trying to get your bearings you see the mangled corpse of Guardsman Meton half embedded in the broken wall - so much for supressing fire support. Several las-bolts streak towards you, and you quickly duck. You wipe his blood off your boot on a door section and look up. You see the attack under way. Scattered groups of penal legionnaries fire at a distant line that returns lasfire and the occasional missile or machine gun salvo, while the battered 1st platoon tries to assemble its squads around the company banner. A gibbering penal trooper runs away from the front in panic, and with a sudden dull 'Tchunk' he disintegrates in a shower of bloody giblets across a ruined wall section. From beyond your field of vision stood a Commissar, holding a smoking bolt pistol. "Your lack of faith sickens me!" he growls, before advancing towards the front line. You feel a horrible cold sensation in the back of your head, as if this reminds you of something. You file it away for consideration in a more calm setting. You consider making for the company banner, but this is not to be. Sgt. Regis clambers over the wreckage, grinning like a madman. You don't back down. So far you've seen worse in your life, and if Regis is mad, so be it. You're all mad to do this, after all. "We made it. Hah! The Leftenant wants the first storehouse cleared so we can get the other platoons down without being raked by that". He points at an incoming arc of tracer fire, and you all duck to avoid being struck. "You up for it?" He asks, holding a "Krak" door breaching grenade towards you. You could say no, as he did not phrase it as an order - on the other hand, the remaints of the penal legion company doesn't seem good for much but dying, judging from the hundreds of bodies lining the ground, and charging the house could be a better option than sitting here waiting for reinforcements. You look at Cpl. Tilla, who shrugs and draws his sword. The other surviving squad members are still in the process of salvaging their gear. ((Shield & transfer wins, incorpoated entrenching tool suggestion. We made a toughness check inside the drop pod, dodged incoming fire a couple times, and we have an allright initiative score. Having seen the future in our warp-vision, the drop and combat shock is not so bad, and incur only one further Insanity Point. What should we do now? Also, Blade_of_tyshalle, I don't know whether to be scared for our characters survival or commend you for excellent roleplaying You can indeed attempt to shiv a commissar in my game, but keep the realism concept in mind. It might work easily or not at all.))
Tias fucked around with this message at 16:15 on Sep 21, 2009 |
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Sep 21, 2009 16:09
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Well, our man Zetkin is not the most pious trooper on record, but he does know his way around the practical part of the primer.
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Sep 21, 2009 17:19
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Seeing as we don't have a lot of regular voters, I get the idea that we are generally for taking the dare and storming the enemy position. We must agree on whether Quint does it, or let someone else do it and provide a gun/sword assist instead. Also, since we are now nearing a situation that could end in sudden and horrible death, let me just talk a bit about FATE points: Fate points (of which Quint has three) can be spent in two ways in the Dark Heresy rule. - To provide a temporary advantage, in which case one point 'greys out' and cannot be used again the next 24 hours. This can be used to achieve first initiative, re-roll a failed test, and a number of other awesome things. I will generally spend one in situations of great importance for Quint, such as missing to dodge a powerful attack or when failing to hit a potent enemy. - A fate point can be removed PERMANENTLY to save Quint from death or serious injury, no matter how certain said death or injury is. Gibbed by artillery, sucked out an airlock, head eaten by daemon, a fate point will save him either from the killing instant, or from the entire combat. Instant just means he stays at 0 wounds and is close to death, which means he could die or get crippled from the next thing to hit him. Using one for the entire combat generally means he is whisked away by allies, buried under some convenient rubble, or otherwise saved. It doesn't guarentee that he does not suffer lasting wounds, goes insane from the experience or other associated nastiness, just that he survives the critical he suffered without stated effects. Doing this means he has less re-rolls per 24 hours and as such is serious business - it is, essentially, what places our hero apart from the run and mill of the Imperium. He is destined for greater things. In this particular CYOA, there are other effects: - A fate point can be removed to change the story arc. When this is possible, dark storm clouds will gather over the area (or, if inside, I will notify you in some other way), and only if something is about to happen that will affect Quint for the long term. - Every other fate point spent to cheat death will kill someone we know and care about. Edit: Also note that truly courageous or heroic actions - NOT stupid ones - can result in gaining a permanent fate point, so it is possible to get them back.
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Sep 21, 2009 19:17
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Liberal_L33t posted:Whoah there guys! Remember, this isn't a narrative CYOA, there are actual combat rules under the hood here. If we constantly volunteer for the most dangerous assignment we're gonna be another teardrop in the Emperor's friggin chalice before too long. As stated in the OP, this game focuses on the REALISTIC life of a conscript in the Imperial Guard. The only thing that is keeping Quint alive to become a seasoned vet with a snowball's chance in hell of dealing with life on the 39th milleniums battlefields are Fate Points and you maintaining some semblance of common sense on his behalf. Update tomorrow morning my time, which means in about 12-13 hours.
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Sep 21, 2009 20:38
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I don't have my books here, so another hour or two till the update - thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you like it so far Edit: And for those in doubt, yes, it does appear that Regis wants you to breach a fortified building, and yes, there does appear to be enemies in it, since the Lietenant believe said building stalls the advance. Tias fucked around with this message at 13:15 on Sep 22, 2009 |
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Sep 22, 2009 12:32
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Truly sorry about the wait, closed for update - it'll come in about an hour tops.
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Sep 22, 2009 18:02
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998.301.M39 Surface of UH69 II You look at the grenade, then reluctantly take it. "I've never used one of these, just thrown frags back in basic. Tilla?". "I'll plant it" the corporal growls, then receives the charge. "Can we get some backup on it, though?" he asks Sgt. Regis. While they hold a short conversation you snag two lasgun charge packs from dead penal legionnaires. Not like they'll be using them, is it now? After a fashion, the sergeant nods. "I'll storm the place with you. Flavia! Get grenades uprange. Intius, Stub, Zerx, Trantor, semi-auto at that storehouse on my mark. NOW". The charge is almost like being in a dream. An almost tangible heat from 5-10 las bolts can be felt close by as your squad lets the rebels have it, and not long after a fragmentation grenade from your squad explodes right in front of you! You all hunker down but no one was hurt, thank His benevolence. You resolve to have "a word" with Flavia if you both make it back, but quickly file off the thought to concentrate on the task at hand. Tilla pulls your arm, shouting something you can't make out, but the meaning is clear enough. As you advance, you notice a creeping fear getting to you - The wide, open expanse of gray-blue skies looms everywhere, with not a single wall or hab-dome roof in sight.. Just as the crippling sense of agoraphobia is about to render you lame with panic, you grit your teeth and shut it out - no way in blazes are you going to die here before you get a shot off! You're not twenty metres from the storehouse when a withering hail of automatic shells rake your team! You dodge with the speed born of a life of unrest, but Tilla is struck in the calf and rolls under a ditch, cursing his luck. He seems allright. Regis pulls you off and under a demolished wall section. Without comment, he rips the split out of a fragmentation grenade and lobs it at the storehouse. There is not a clear line of sight, but it explodes somewhere in front, and when it does you, Regis and Tilla move for the door. Training lasguns at nearby windows and corners, you let Tilla fix the door charge, silently praying he knows what he's doing. As Tilla stands back and signals for you to get ready, you mull over the options you have when the door blows: - Shield and sword. The armaplas shield is ideal for turning away enemy blows if you can close fast enough, and you know you are lethal with a sword . - Shotgun. You only get two shots before you have to strike enemies with the buttstock or draw other weapons, but with Tilla and Regis on your side it is probably enough. - Lasgun. The lasgun is semi-automatic and has a full complement of sixty shots, meaning you won't run dry, and you can always wing people with the stock if you have to? - Other option (sword and laspistol, waiting for the others to charge, something else entirely?) ((Well, here we are! We failed the fear test at being outside for the first time in our life by so many degrees it'd have rendered Quint nearly catatonic, so I spent a fate point and then we made it. Dodge checks worked out once again and we somehow sidestepped a full auto burst from a machine gun! What is Quint to do now?))
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Sep 22, 2009 19:37
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Rules-wise, a shield does NOT provide cover against enemy fire. I'm not sure why this is so (it provides +15 to parry checks against enemy melee attacks), but since it's an exciting plan I am willing to rule that it will shield your arm and body with 4 extra Armor Points* if you want to go first and try and shield your team (note that any enemies packing firearms will have to fire at you if you go point since you're the closest target). If you want to go this route, please change your vote accordingly. I'll update in a couple hours if time permits! * 4 AP for your armor + 4 AP for shield + 2 soak points for toughness bonus means the enemy will have to beat 10 points to even hurt Quint superficially, and most firearms do around 1d10 +2 damage if the guys inside even succeed in hitting us, so it's a pretty safe plan. At most he gets grazed unless there's some truly heavy heat inside. Edit: And yes, Liberal_L33t, both the shield and las pistol can be used as melee weapons, but are piss poor. They do even less damage than, for example, entrenching tools and rifle butts. Still, they can hurt people in a pinch if the user is strong enough. Extra edit: I like how tacticLOL this is getting Now you're thinking like guardsmen!
Tias fucked around with this message at 21:31 on Sep 22, 2009 |
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Sep 22, 2009 21:19
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((Las-pistol and shield wins. Ice Phisherman, the shield is solid enough to stave off as many lasbursts as needed (though it could become too hot to hold), and it'd take a fair amount of solid projectiles to damage it as well. At strength 36, we could fire a sawn-off in one hand, but at a hefty penalty. It takes strength 40 and above to begin to shrug off that kind of impact.)) 998.301.M39 Who knows? KA-CHUNKRUNK! The door desintegrates under the hefty armour piercing directional explosive, and you hear a muffled groan through the smoke. Tilla gives you a "what now?" look, and Regis begins drawing his axe. You swallow hard, then make a decision. "I got this." you pant, showing them the armaplas trench shield. "On me". You lay down your Mk. III lasgun, draw your backup piece and aim it cautiously over the shield, advancing into the storehouse. One sap is down, cradling his stomach where a piece of the door knocked the wind out of him. Two las-shots, one from you and one from Regis, silence him, and the two NCOs follow you inside the storehouse proper. Inside, two worn looking troopers in PDF fatigues level their lasguns and pepper you with shots! One bolt grazes your helmet without doing harm and the shield catches a barrage of shots, but becomes so hot you lower it a fraction and wince as slivers of laser pass over it and stab into your chest. Your training and grit takes over and you aim - only for as long as you have to, and place a las-bolt squarely in the chest of one of the assailants. Tilla and Regis run past you, attacking the other with their hand weapons. As they overpower the second trooper, you shoot the man again at point blank range as his own lasgun goes wide into a wall, your face a grimace of satisfaction as the shot crackles over and ignites his chest, and he falls to the ground, stunned. Regis and Tilla manage to hack the other man to oblivion, while you - cursing the weak power pack in this pea shooter - put a third las-bolt through the mans temple, sending him quietly to the afterlife. You look at the scene of carnage, and at one another, panting. Tilla gets his bearings first, helping you remove your chest plate as Regis places a lasgun casually out a window while waiting for the rest of the squad to move up. The fabric of your blue Rifles uniform is burned clean away, revealing an extensive burn sore that has eaten the flesh of the breast away, even revealing pink sinew underneath in one place. It smarts like hell, but Tilla is on it quick with antiseptic powder and a heavy bandage, which makes the flak armor somewhat bearable again. The remainder of 5th squad forms up, and Trantor is sent running back to command to vox down the remainder of 6th company. Soon enough the roar of drop pods are heard, and you maintain a comfortable defense of the storehouse until 6th are safely on the ground. The rebel scum apparently don't attach much importance to it as they only mount a single half-hearted attack that see you and Regis gun them down like lobotomized Grox! A motley crew of maddened-looking penal legionnaires relieve you, and you report back to 1st squad. Lieutenant Atellus looks you over, flicks his fingers to his command medic, who begins treating the las wound with a proper medi-pack as you lay down, and soon enough a soothing layer of synth-skin cover the punished flesh of your chest. You hear the conversation between Regis and the Chief: "..Cleared the room with a scrounged shield, let us in without a scratch." "Is that so? Tronas, put Guardsman Zetkin down for a citation for conspicous bravery. We could do with an example for the men after this landing." ..You don't know whether to feel pride or contempt for this uniformed troll. You did what you had to, is this so heroic? Another thing to contemplate later, you suppose. Your chest feels well again, so you stand to, looking at Regis. "You did well, Quint, but we're just getting started. A few different orders ticked in, and I got to take the squad on combat patrol. But just now, the sixths scout master needs volunteers to take out scum artillery on the edge of this city, and our experience so far makes you the best man I got in close quarters. What do you say? Choice's yours, doesn't get better than that." ((Well, that went allright. Our rebel friends got lucky and hit Quint 4 times but mostly in shielded locations, taking away about half his wounds, but the command squad medic gave him 3 back so he's at 9 out of 11 wounds now. He managed to gain the initiative on his assailant and shoot him again fast enough to stun him, which made the execution a breeze. Quint earns 25 XP for achieving his first combat experience and kills, and a citation for conspicous bravery worth 50 XP. As you can see brave actions like our taking point can lead to extra XP, but the more XP the larger the risk associated will be, and some risks will be so great that they're not worth it for the XP - that's the concept, realism at any cost. What do we do now? Quint has an inkling that artillery hunting could be dangerous, but a combat patrol to secure this hellish battlefield could be just as bad. We're injured, but nothing less than loss of limb or severe concussion gets you even temporary relief from duty in the Guard.)) Tias fucked around with this message at 01:43 on Sep 23, 2009 |
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Sep 23, 2009 01:11
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Touchdown Boy posted:Nice writeup, glad we did well (better than I thought). Thanks, it makes the difference for me, you know If any of you have any feedback on the writing itself, my interpretation of the 40K universe or whatever, please come with it. I like the setting and I like writing, so just lay it on me.Also, keep in mind that with this concept, "adventure" equals danger. There may be rewards in the form of looted exotic gear or extra experience, but it can (and sometimes WILL) mean the odds will be stacked horribly against Quint and then it's lights out.
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Sep 23, 2009 01:24
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bobvonunheil posted:Artillery hunting sounds like the more interesting broad choice. Not at all. Ideally, every guardsmen is A) Flawlessly pious, B) Selflessly suicidal and C) 100% committed to both obeying his superiours and showing initiative and independence if this somehow leads to heroic deeds his superiors could not think up on their own - no matter how contradictary these things might be. Atellus doesn't give a poo poo about us as long as we get the job done, but if we consistently do right we will get promoted to either command a squad of our own or, you guessed it, shunted into specialist companies as scouts, storm troopers, strategists or what have you.
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Sep 23, 2009 01:53
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Kylaer>> Cool. We only carry this stuff for the assault drop. Once we're settled in on the ground we can pick and carry equipment based on the job at hand. We can safely leave the weapons we feel we don't need with the company at this point, for example. As is, Quint is somewhat encumbered by carrying a shield, a broadsword, and several basic weapons and a pistol, so it's a good call to leave some. Ice Phisherman>> Unfortunately, we're at a bad spot with 24. We need to get over 30 to gain another soak point, and that means spending 750 experience for +10. Quint only has 75 now, and once he crosses 100 we may want to spend it on a skill or lighter advance. As a compromise, we could spend 250 to up his agility when he gets that far, making his dodge rolls better? Tias fucked around with this message at 02:18 on Sep 23, 2009 |
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Sep 23, 2009 02:02
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wjs5 posted:Hunt Arty Well we could probably ditch the e-tool, shotty, and las pistol at base camp. I mean really, long range you got the lasgun short range you got the shield and a sword. Scouting out means least amount of wieght for movment possible. Can we keep the bayonete attached to the lasgun? If we are holding it and end up in close combat would be good to be able to stab a fool with it. This, basically. It's a very irreverent thing to do, but Quint is probably not above such things. Still, it's not like the tech-priest come inspecting gear or anything, the regiments are much too large for that, so he could likely get away with it. quote:Also can we maybe get some grenades off the quarter master? If not ohh well though they would help alot. We also need to charge up our las power packs to full if they are not all there now. Last question how many do we have total at this point? I could have sworn we picked some up right before the assualt. You can use a full action to attach your bayonet to the lasgun, after which it counts as a spear for nice melee damage. This does however incur a very small penalty (-5) on to hit rolls if we shoot it with the blade on. Grenade inquiry will happen in next update. Quint has 3 lasgun charge packs for the lasgun, which is probably enough. Otherwise it's the most common ammunition on the battlefield, so we're guarenteed a chance to loot some (the Imperium has much greater weapon standardization than present-day earth). Sex Reflex posted:I've not had a chance to vote much but just read the updates and this is pretty sweet so far. You don't write CYOA's in real life do you? Brings me back to the days of reading all of Joe Dever's Lone Wolf books, just 40k style. I hope you will then, not a lot of voters yet And thank you! I've never written much of anything (well, a bit, but in my native language, not English). Also, I've no idea what this Lone Wolf is, but I'm glad you enjoy it!
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Sep 23, 2009 09:23
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Indeed it is (while you're here, why not vote?). Update tonight! (in approx. 8 hours)
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Sep 23, 2009 16:08
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998.301.M39 Surface of UH69 II "I volunteer". Someone has to silence those guns, and better you and a crack scout team than some two-bit underhiver with petrochem jelly where his guts should be. "Yeah, me too". It was Trantor. Trantor was exactly the kind of person I worried about, he had the fire in his eyes but so far had done nothing but curse the enemy and loose snapshots at nothing. "The Imperium commends your bravery" Atellus answers without much enthusiasm, idly pointing to a figure standing in the distance. Scout Master Atrix introduces himself as hailing from clan Sandor, a venerable house from the upper hive layers, and you guess he's a veteran from his casual stance, nice (if worn) camouflage gear and his many scars. He looks you over, then waves the other volunteer, a small wiry Columnan in a black uniform, over. "This is going to go nice and quiet, you hear? I know it's not part of standard patrol protocol, but we're going to crawl in there, silent as rats, and do this before they know what hit them. HQ can't spare counter-battery fire, so we'll have to infiltrate. I'm going to go over how to use one of these" - he hefts a satchel charge of high explosives - "And then you have an hour before we leave". Somewhat wiser in the use of explosives after his demonstration, you head off to see if you can scrounge some grenades, in case the plan goes awry. Searching for forty five minutes, your heart drops, when suddenly a robed adept waves you into a ditch. You reach for your knife in case the creep tries any funny stuff, but relax as you see him withdraw a crate full of Mk. III fragmentation grenades. "These should strictly speaking be going back to HQ, but I can recognize a man on an important mission for the God-Emperor when I see one." You bite back the urge to tell him how full of poo poo he is, as the grenades are clearly solid issue. "Ten a piece, Guardsman. How many will it be?" ((Well, we failed the inquiry check by five degrees, but I thought it was worth a fate point - we had to beat 16 out of 100 - and rolled 01, a super success, so it paid off big time. Not only does this crooked munitorum clerk have as many grenades we could desire, he also sells them at common price, which is probably the best deal on a frag grenade we'll ever get. Should we buy from him? We can also negotiate or try to get them in some other manner, but we don't have the barter skill, and shanking him could have consequences when we get back.))
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Sep 23, 2009 23:18
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I'm feeling support for three grenades and updated the sheet accordingly. I'd go on, but I'm about to keel over (it's 1 am here) and so the update will have to wait till tomorrow Blade_of_tyshalle, I'm not going to let anyone (save perhaps Trantor or Atrix) die just yet, and our squad is fixed now, so there will be plenty of time to get acquinted! Searching for bigger blade and memorizing the adept noted and will be attempted in the coming update. Sleep tight, people..
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Sep 24, 2009 00:11
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Kylaer posted:Midsized blade, I believe. Something midway between the full-sized sword and the bayonet, along the lines of a bowie knife, kukri, or short gladius-style sword. It's your basic 40k sword, by which I mean somewhere between a machete and a bastard sword. Heavy and long enough to cause problems in places like hive vents, corridors, smaller rooms etc. so your concern is valid, but it works fine in most arenas.
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Sep 24, 2009 00:20
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DEAD MAN'S SHOE posted:ah, i thought we were lumbered with a broadsword. if i read you right, what we have sounds fine to me. Well you know how GW is with descriptions, a sword can be "anything you want it to". In this case, since Nalla is borderline forge-world and makes okay kit, I'm thinking a single-edged, balanced blade of a strong, stiff material suited for cutting and slashing. Sabre meets bastard sword kind of deal. wj5>> I already did. You voted on getting Awareness, simple WS increase, simple S increase and PWT (Solid Projectile) with the starting XP. Update later today.
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Sep 24, 2009 09:21
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D-Day, late afternoon 998.301.M39 Surface of UH69 II You cradle the grenades in your hand, going over what Atrix said. Stealth, that was the ticket. Still, the drill abbots did say all missions could go awry. Hell, you should know, you've run a few sabotage raids and boot parties on rival clans, and sometimes they had a few stub men around when you least expected it, and then you were running for your life. With this in mind, you quickly sew up a patch to make a belt pouch, and hide one of the frag grenades in it, stashing the rest in the equipment chests allocated to your platoon until your field gear is dropped to the surface. Later You're at the edge of the village where the artillery is. Seems likely too, as you witnessed two massive airburst shells hit the edge of your camp. Like the rage of some spirit best left unimagined, it hailed destruction over an area covering about ten square metres, ripping open rock strata and burning the ground itself! You resolve to remove the rebel artillery, and all artillery aimed at you in the future, so as to avoid ever being on the receiving end of such awesome firepower. Atrix wave you, Trantor and the seedy Columnan hiver - who introduces himself as Hax but otherwise keeps his own counsel - over. "Noise discipline. Zetkin, good job on the camo, the rest of yous throw on some mud." Trantor and Hax give you sheepish looks, and then start soiling their face, uniforms and weapons. "We're ready." Atrix says, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "I got a little something-something lined up in case this goes south from a friend in Divisio, but it's not going to as long as we don't frag this up. We go in - the gun is somewhere up ahead - knife the sorry saps who operate the gun, and then we fire it back at the rebels or drop a demo charge in it, depending on their backup situation. Stay quiet like dead men, and don't hesitate to signal me if there's anything. You see something, get spooked by something you don't know what is, you get gas, anything.. Signal me. Allright?" He smiles, white teeth slick against the dull green camouflage makeup on his face. You nod in unison, then start crouch-walking in one of the many ditches along the main road. It's dark, and after a while a heavy rain starts falling - it is good for covering your advance, but starts getting on all your nerves after a while. Born hivers, none of you have been rained on, save for the occasional "Hive Rain" - when corrosive chemicals from a cluster of leaked pipes are whipped cross-hive by some fancy of the ventilation system. This ice cold, dirty water is nothing like it, to say the least. Now freezing, you have to steel your minds against the myriad of doubts about your duty that start seeping into your thoughts, much you have to steel your bodies against fatigue by stopping once in a while to exercise. The only one that seems unaffected is Atrix, who like a friend or father whispers words of encouragement, chiding you to stop exercising like a bunch of creche babies and get on with the mission. You manage to stay somewhat warm and flexible in spite of the rain, and it recedes as you reach your goal - The extended, long 300mm Barrel of a Mars-pattern Basilisk self-propelled artillery gun sticking over a hill. A plume of fire erupts from the mouth of the gun, and you all instinctively cower, almost falling as the gun's report send a tangible quake through the earth itself! At what seems like the speed of light the shot is far beyond visual range, a fading, tell-tale whistling sound from the shell the only indication it was even fired. Not so for your comrades at the other end, of course, and you quickly get on with the job at hand. Atrix looks at the top of the hill, then signals you over, and together you crawl to the edge. From your nearly invisible vantage point, you see a cluster of squat, gray houses, and a demolished structure that may have been a well or silo, on the debris of which the massive artillery tank rests. Three men operate it, one operating range and elevation controls on the gun itself, the others lugging a massive 300mm shell from the ground and levering it into the firing chamber. Aside from them a fire team of five PDF troopers stand around, huddled against the cold, smoking lho sticks and leaning on massive autoguns. "So how do we do this?" Trantor shivers, teeth chattering, and a quiet falls over you all. Atrix doesn't hold rank on this mission, you realize, and you have to agree on an attack pattern you are all comfortable with if this is going to have any chance of success - and quickly. Pondering it for a short while, you decide to suggest: - Sniping them. If you take a chance and spend time aiming you could probably silence three if the riflemen, and then pick off the stragglers with semi-automatic fire. - Lasgun Assault. If you take a chance and get a little closer, you can get off 6 shots on semi-automatic before they react, enough to put them on the defensive. - Close Assault. You have a grenade, don't you? There doesn't seem to be any other enemies around, so why not frag them and take out the rest with swords? ((Well, we made our toughness test, as did Atrix. Hax and Trantor are fatigued (1 level of fatigue), and worse for wear, unfortunately. What do you do?))
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Sep 24, 2009 12:43
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