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Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!




We called it New Eden. A perfect world. Earth-like but pristine. Abundant resources, no terraforming, no hab bubbles… paradise. First it was explorers and scientists, then corporations looking to exploit and ravage according to their inhuman logic. Then came the settlers: ‘settling guarantees reproduction!’ Unlimited waivers for the first generation willing to make the leap to a new world. But then the skies filled with spores and the bugs woke from their long sleep.

First it was pest control. Most people forget that. No problem at all, just some local fauna to put down. Then it was evacuation. Then rescue. Then vengeance. Then pride. More soldiers, more deaths, more sacrifice justifying more sacrifice. Never leave a man behind! What if that means sending a thousand more into the meat grinder? Chemical weapons weren’t working. Bio-agents too dangerous. Orbital bombardment? Then we’d be destroying our prize out of spite. So, more men. Another offensive. Another base. Another thousand bugs killed and another unit lost. How could we lose? How could we relinquish this jewel of a planet after everything we’ve sacrificed? If we just left, those losses would be for nothing. No, no, we couldn’t accept that.

And then a beautiful thought. What if it wasn’t our fault? Not our planning, not our technology, not our logistics, but our men? What if we hadn’t betrayed them, what if they had betrayed us? Now that… that was a revelation.

- Excerpt from Memoirs of the First Interstellar War – BANNED


NPC list - https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet...dit?usp=sharing

Lance Corporal Aboah, Jacob D - The Landfall Marine

Landfall is always harrowing, but your landing was a particular poo poo show. You came in as a triple, a bit under strength but enough to deal with most threats on landing, with orbital support. But Jenkins got twisted up in atmo and dropped god-knows-where. Lance landed on-point in a clearing. You were a few clicks off and had to deal with a small bug problem. You never saw Lance again.

Your suit kicked on it’s automated mission briefing. Brass said you’d been promoted to classified work and they couldn’t tell you poo poo in orbit. Brass had been cagey about the Paradise Offensive for a while now but according to the newslines it was going great.

Primary Objective:
Recovery of VIP Sela Kresh, Head Researcher of Life Labs Eden Outpost
If Sala Kresh is DECEASED recovery of research data from Life Labs and biometric encryption key from base of Sala Kresh’s spine (see attached surgical instructions)
Secondary Objective:
Recovery of magnis caeruleis sample.

Tertiary Objectives – see STANDARD FORCE MAINTANENCE RESUPPLY INCENTIVE PROGRAM
There’s a few hyperlinks to more details on the outpost and the scientist but the “mission parameters” demand your loving focus.
1. Due to unknown biological agent all local food is potentially hazardous. Consuming any food besides vacuum sealed nutripaste is highly hazardous and may compromise orbital pickup protocols
2. Due to unknown biological agent, all currently stationed ground forces may be contaminated. Do not exchange fluids with any personnel stationed on Eden or any local flora and fauna.
3. Due to unknown biological agent, all currently stationed ground forces may be compromising military intelligence. Do not share mission data. Do not share any information on current EDF tactics and strategy. Ground forces may be utilized to aid in completing mission but must not be informed of mission goals.

It’s been a little while since that day. How did you make contact with Firebase Anvil and how much did you share? What are you up to this morning?

Reine - The Contaminated

“Reine…. Reine!” Jacob snaps his fingers in your face, loving rude, and leans back when you focus on him, “what the gently caress? You been taking some of Been’s poo poo? You know he’s stretching it out with loving grease right?” Last thing you remember was going to sleep and dreaming of starships. Now you find yourself sitting in the corner of the garage, with an open technical manual in front of you. “What the gently caress are you doing here anyway?”

What do you do?

Willie Sideways Thompson - The Driver
Off to the side of the garage Jacob’s bugging Reine for some loving reason. Probably trying to neg her into the bunks. But you notice something else, the radio by the pair flipped on its own and it’s spitting static, and also something else. Sounds like a human voice behind the fuzz.

What do you do?

Sgt. Vasile Petrescu - The Maestro'D

It’s late morning. Since you still stick to military scheduling, serving time is over. Mornings are good for you, the early risers are regulars who still have some respect left in them. The more slovenly grunts time their wake-up for lunch. But for now it’s just a few good soldiers with their coffee. You’re scrubbing the counter to prep for the next meal. Private Fitzgerald usually does that, but he didn’t come in today. Not like him… But here he is now! Stumbling in on a makeshift crutch? Private Fitzgerald was lucky he lost his leg early in the war, back when they still had plenty of good replacements. Nothing like the bionic nerve-interface gizmo a T1 citizen might get earthside, but still a piece of springy metal custom fitted to him, good enough for someone to get around in a support role. But now his is gone and he’s sheepishly trying to spray and wipe while tottering on his one leg like you aren’t going to notice something is amiss.

What do you do?

Lt. Casey Casino Duff – Battlebabe
“Just the fine piece o’ rear end I wanted to see.” Been interrupts you (what were you doing?). He scratches his balls, to which he has easy access now that he’s taken to wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a rifle. One of the dozen flunkies he’s rolling deep with today snickers. He’s a bit out of his comfort zone, leaving the barracks he’s turned into a pleasure den. You’re pretty sure the black market “kingpin” is your direct superior, but thankfully he’s never tried to give you an order. He doesn’t today either, he makes an offer: “Vasile’s been talking poo poo and hoarding the café. loving communist won’t serve my people, but some of them are hankering for some dirty brown water. If you can get me a sack of real coffee beans I’ll trade you an unopened bottle of genuine earth-side bourbon. I’ll throw in a special bonus if you take a poo poo in his pot.”

What do you do?

Major Roosevelt Profit - The Chopper


Shrikes are getting restless. The last operation went sideways (what was it?) and since you’ve been recovering a few of the guys have taken to partying with Been. This morning Jesus and Kat came stumbling back to (where do the shrikes hole up?) missing all their loving clothes. Those were Aircav uniforms, designed to be worn under standard body armor for high speed loving engagements. They’re not irreplaceable, but you’re running low and standard poo poo won’t do for aircav.

What do you do?

Zee the Hocus

You wake up to chanting “Ave Zee Ave Zee AVE ZEE.” Looks like your friends brought you breakfast! (who had the honor of presenting it to you?) A real breakfast of pancakes and “eggs.” They must have snuck it away from Petrescu, no one else makes grub like that! You feel good, like weirdly good. There’s something in the air. Most days you feel like you’re being watched, and today is no different. But today you feel like whoever is watching is more curious than hateful. It’s like when the doctors ran a test that went well, like they just found something that made them reconsider wanting to stab your eyes out.

What do you do?

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Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
Harm: 0.00

I'm not in the greatest mood right now. I had some food vanish. Not the first time, not the last. loving Been probably has some wastrel get his little gathering of pimps, pushers and prostitutes some food. Now, I don't like losing food. I run a tight ship, and this stuff takes a lot of effort to make. But it doesn't piss me off quite as much thinking of that smirking cancerous little spot in my beautiful army shoveling it in his wordhole. I'd rather feed it to the bugs before I'd give it to him. The fact that Jimmy isn't here doesn't make it better. He's not a 'sleeping in' kind. If he'd be attacked by a bug in the camp, there'd be a lot more commotion, so it's not that. But I'm thinking he might be sick. Really bad time and place to catch a fever.

Or he could come in and... what the hell?

I look as Jimmy comes in, doing his best to act like nothing is happening. I give his grin my dryest look. I gotta bite my tongue not to go aggro a bit on him. He's an artistic type. Should probably not have been in the army, though respect to him to stand up and be counted either way.

"Fitzergald. Mind telling me what's going on?" He doesn't look beaten up, so it's not like a bunch of Been's assholes ambushed him. So what the hell is happening?



quote:

Name: Sgt. Petrescu, Maestro D'
Look: Man, neat uniform, weathered face

Stats:
Cool+0
Hard +1
Hot+2
Sharp+1
Weird=-1

Moves:
Everybody eats, even that guy: Everybody eats, even that guy: when you want to know something about someone
important (your call), roll+hot. On a hit, you can ask the MC questions. On a 10+, ask 3.
On a 7-9, ask 1:
• How are they doing? what’s up with them? • What or who do they love best?
• Who do they know, like and/or trust? • When next should I expect to see them?
• How could I get to them, physically or emotionally?
On a miss, ask 1 anyway, but they hear about your interest in them.

Fingers in Every Pie: Fingers in every pie: put out the word that you want a thing—could be a person,
could be somethin somethin, could even be just a thing—and roll+hot. On a 10+, it shows
up in your establishment for you, like magic. On a 7-9, well, your people make an effort
and everybody wants to please you and close is close, right? On a miss, it shows up in
your establishment for you with strings wicked attached.

Establishment:
The Mess Hall


Main Act: Easy Food
Side: Coffee, Art (propaganda posters, old and newly made, pin-ups)
Atmosphere: Restraint, nostalgia, forgetting
Best Regular: Lance Corporal Toyota: Old, tough as nails veteran. She's already ready to regale us some tales from previous wars she's in.
Worst Regular: Private Lits: Look, if he broke rules, he wouldn't be a regular, but that boy almost gets off on trying to explain to people how doomed we are.
Who wants in on it?: Private Rolfball I know he's hoping to be part of this, partly because we work here, and don't do patrols often, and he really likes it here. But he's a good soldier, and while he works hard, I don't need an extra hand as much as the other guys need a gun outthere.
Who do you owe for it? Specialist Gams Look, we work hard in the garden, but growing things on this soil is not something we could do on our own Specialist Camo was with the eggheads. Not much of a fighter, but I'm glad they lived, because what little we've managed to grow is mostly thanks to their assistance. Figure they were supposed to help make this place ready for human habitation after our victory. Well, they might still get their chance.
Who wants it gone? Been. Deserter, profiteering piece of scum. Used to be a captain, but you won't see me salute him. He pretty much runs a tiny business 'helping' people. He has a black market going, and he likes get people into debt. Has people making drugs for him, which he sells, and those who can no longer affords his drug, he has them sell themselves for 'comfort' to others. Tried to convince me to 'work together' I told him I was waiting for command to return, and I'd have a full report for his court martial then.

For security:
Everyone is packing, cast and crew counts as a gang (2 harm, small 0 armor)
Convenient Shotgun: (Close, reload, messy, 3 harm)

Gear:
Model 500 (3-harm ap close reload loud) [handgun, ap ammo, big]
Assault rifle (2-harm close/far loud) [rifle, semiautomatic, hi-powered]
Sturm suit (2-armor)
Oddments worth 4-barter

Crew:
Private Jimmy Fitzergald: Poor Jimmy lost his foot to some monster, but hey, he lives. Poor boy was always pretty soft, not really cut out for a war, but drat, the kid can draw. He's the one that draws most of the art. I mostly focus on putting inspiring and memorizing things on the wall. And sometimes when a soldier asks he'll draw some scantly dressed babe or hunk for someone. He'll do it discreetly and I pretend I don't see it.
Corporal: Maurice Katembo The other cook besides me. Tends to cook a whole lot spicier, and is always trying to try 'fancy new recipes' Flirts with everyone. Can't say I approve, but the situation is what it is, and the rules against fraternizing are pressing, so as long as he keeps the results of it outside of this mess hall.
Private Rachel al'Kurashi: We all do our shifts in the garden, but she's the one who knows most about it, good friends with Private Lits. Pretty quiet. Lost a lot of friends here, and rumours goes it wasn't to the aliens.
Private Derek Michaelson: One of the most dilligent, disciplined soldiers there is. Keeps things clean, does all the poo poo jobs without complaining, makes the least offensive coffee among all of us, and through out it all, keeps his uniform so pristine this old sgt. now and then has a tear coming to his eye. Serious six days a week. Seventh day he has managed to somehow convince me to let him serve the food while dressed in drag, to the amusement of everyone. Look, I know, regulations, but morale needs a booster. I don't know what he sees in it, he's cis, he's straight, but he just loves walking around in high heels getting hooted at by grunts. Still has a mean punch for those getting handsy though.
Private Günther Dean: Big, heavily scarred guy, seen some poo poo, outright refuses to go out in the woods if you put a gun against his head. But does work, knows a little bit about technology to make sure to keep the kitchen and the coffee machine running. Not an engineer, just handy with technology.

Gear
Kitchen Knife (2 harm, hand)
2 barter of odds and ends
Military outfit with apron over it? Might very well count as armor, he's a soldier too after all

HX:
Zee (Quiggy) Hx+1
Willie 'Sideways' Thompson (PoultryGeist) - Hx +1
Lance Corporal Aboah (Error 404) - Hx +3
Reine (Tricky) - Hx+2
Major Roosevelt Profit (Commrade Gorbash) - Hx +2
Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff (Platonicsolid) +1

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Sgt Vasile Petrescu

"Oh, ummm, yeah just doing what I can, you know, for the war. Every bit helps, right? Like you always say. I'm not... Like, I got my hands and... Jen lost her leg a while back."

You know "Jen", she's with the Shrikes. Nasty piece of work, you banned her from the mess after she picked a fight that ended with Private Satrio losing an eye. You heard getting her leg mangled by a tree and amputated just left her even more punchy.

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 1

I sigh. "Sit your rear end down, private. Lemme get you some coffee." I start making some of the black gold for him. It's black, because hell if I know where I'd get milk and sugar here, and put it in front of him. Gives me time to think.

Thing is, he's not really wrong. Jen's been going pretty much feral, and if she wasn't one of the Major's own, she might have gotten her head blown off for that stunt she pulled with Satrio. But she was one of the people who were fighting the war seriously in this place. And the Shrikes did get results. Keeping one of them flying could be doing more good for the victory than Private Fitzergald, who still could do a lot of work with... well, bit less.

But drat it, this didn't feel right to have a boy just cripple himself like that. And of course, there was a question burning hotter than the coffee. So as Vasile put it down, he looked him in the eyes. "It's your call to do that? Because Shrike or not, I'm not having some undisciplined howling berserker go roughshod over my folks. If it was your choice, well, gently caress it, once we get off this planet I'll be writing requests like like gently caress to get you a new one with all the bells and whistles, to go with your medals, but if soldiers are getting robbed out of their legs, I need to know that."

Gonna read a Person, but not sure if I roll in channel or orokos?

@Sgt. Vasile Petrescu (Shogeton): 2d6+1 = (4+4)+1 = 9: hold one. Likely going to see if Fitzergald is lying to me.

Shogeton fucked around with this message at Dec 13, 2017 around 23:30

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Sgt Vasile Petrescu

He's squirming a bit at the question, "I... Um, it was kind of a mutual thing I guess, like, I didn't just take off my leg and hand it to her but you can see they didn't jump me or nothing, I guess. It's fine. I don't want any trouble."

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 1

"Mutual? What does that mean? Fitzergald, I know you don't want trouble. That's why I'm asking you to be straight with me here. Why did you give her your leg?"

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Sgt Vasile Petrescu

There's a flicker of something like confusion and then realization on his face. He straightens out a little bit, "right, straight. Jen and her friends came to me last night and explained that I was the best match with a Prosthesis for her height and weight so only my leg could get her riding again. And since she was no good on base and I was no good in combat it would be for the best for me to go without. I'm good with my hands, maybe I can craft a nice peg or something?"

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 6-barter

Ah, poo poo. I must've dozed off or something. Not the first time I've gone sleepwalking since this poo poo got weird, but usually I didn't wake up with that fucker Jacobs in my face. I have some real problems, yeah, like trying to figure out what this all means. What do the voices want from me? I take a lingering glance down at the tech manual. If I'm not just going crazy, if there's a deeper purpose to this all, maybe that's a hint towards what it is. That done, I look up at Jacobs. Feelings war within me. Part of me knows that I could rip him in half with my bare hands. Make a loving wish, like they did in those ridiculous old Earth harvest festivals. The other part of me, the human part, bats that down. He's a loving prick, but that doesn't just mean I should kill him. People... people don't do that, right? And I'm still a person.

I say, "You kidding? I'm reading a loving book. If I was high on Been's poo poo, I'd be stark-naked and taking a walk outside the perimeter. I'm studying up. Already got the reactor's poo poo on lock, figure I might need to branch out sooner or later. They aren't exactly sending any more of us, y'know?"

While I'm talking, I'm much more concerned with the voices. Tentatively, I reach out with my mind into the web. "Hello? Anyone out there? What the gently caress do you want from me?" Nothing immediate. Just means I need to try harder.

Per Hive Mind, asking if there's anyone else who shares my contamination and, if so, who.

quote:

SidekickBOT - Today at 4:08 PM
@Spc. Reine (Tricky): 2d6+2 Opening my brain! = (1+6)+2 = 9

XP and an impression.

quote:

Name: Spc. Reine
Look: Woman, Utility Wear, Luminous Beauty

Stats:
Cool +1
Hard +2
Hot -1
Sharp +1
Weird +2

Contamination:
Inhuman strength and reflexes: you are many times stronger and quicker than the uncontaminated. Any time you think that your inhuman strength or reflexes might help you, ask the MC to choose 1:
• You get +1 or +2 to your roll, or you get +1choice or +1hold after your roll.
• You can act under fire to do it, when a normal person would be simply incapable.
• You inflict +1harm, +2harm, or add ap to your attack.

Inhuman flexibility: you can contort your body into bizarre, appalling, and unnatural configurations. You can fit through or into spaces that no one could possibly fit into, in order to hide, escape, or gain entry. You can also impress, dismay, or frighten someone without using seize by force to do it. The MC can have you act under fire to hold a position for a long time, to take the most extreme positions, or to move while contorted.

Inhuman resilience: no amount of harm can make your life untenable. Treat harm past 11:00 as painful and temporarily debilitating, but not lasting. At the beginning of the next session, reduce your harm to 6:00. The MC might decide that certain kinds of extreme harm—immolation or beheading, for instance—count as a decontamination attempt, as follows.

Decontamination: you might be able to be decontaminated. Maybe a savvyhead or an angel with an infirmary can help, or a brainer or a hocus with augury, or a quarantine with a medlab or a Ψ-isolation rig. Maybe you have another plan of your own. In any case, seeing a decontamination attempt through to its conclusion immediately makes your life untenable. The only way to be sure of decontamination is to change to another playbook, and to agree with the MC that your contamination belongs to your old life that you're leaving behind. Seeing a decontamination attempt through gives you an opportunity for this, but doesn't require it or guarantee it.

Moves:
The other one: tell the MC to create the other one as a perversion of birth who comes to you in your brain and acts for you with your body. Once per session, and more often if you choose, tell the MC that now you're the other one. Ask the MC what you do.

Hive mind: you share thoughts and senses with others who share your contamination. At any time, you can ask the MC what they're seeing, hearing, feeling, and thinking about, and you can read them if you choose, even from afar. At any time, you can also ask the MC if there are others who share your contamination, and who, or who's new.

The lily of the pits: if you have [circle 1: human blood, any blood, raw flesh, electricity, terror, poison, the moment of death], you don't need or desire anything else. At the beginning of the session, spend 0-barter on lifestyle, and tell the MC that you toil not, and yet are arrayed in charnal splendor.

Gear:
Multi-tool (3-harm intimate hi-tech)
Leroy's Designated Marksman Rifle (3-harm far)
All sorts of spare parts (7-barter)
Leroy's oversized uniform

Contaminated Special:
If you and another character have sex, but only the first time you have sex with them, give them a move from your playbook. You're allowed to ask the other player their preference, but ultimately you choose the move, and the substance if required.

HX:
On your turn, consider these: human blood, any blood, raw flesh, electricity, terror, poison, the moment of death.

• Which one of you has provided me with Electricity? For that character, write Hx+1. Major Roosevelt Profit – Hx+1
• Which one of you has blocked me from Electricity? For that character, write Hx+2. Lance Corporal Aboah, Jacob D – Hx+2

For everyone else, write Hx-1. They have been shadows to you before now.

Zee – Hx-1
Willie Sideways Thompson – Hx-1
Sgt. Vasile Petrescu – Hx-1
Lt. Casey Casino Duff – Hx-1

Tricky fucked around with this message at Mar 16, 2018 around 20:14

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Spc. Reine

You catch a look at the page you were on. It's a schematic for light jump shuttle. It's for maintenance so there's nothing on how to make it, just how to fix it. Jacob laughs, "yeah, well most have been a good book since I've been trying to talk to you for..." you don't really catch the rest as your mind opens up. (What does that feel like?)

You get an image of a vine crawling up a tree to reach the light. It's a natural yearning deeper than thought. The desire to survive, to thrive, to grow, and to find that new, warm, nourishment.

PoultryGeist
Feb 26, 2013

Crystals?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson
Hard =0 | Cool +2 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1
Barter=4 | Harm=0:00 | XP ○○○○○»

Huh, hadn’t noticed Reine come in. But then again lubing up Thumper’s drivetrack is an engrossing process if you don’t want to lose fingers. And at least she could hold her peace, unlike Jacobs’ pasty flatlander rear end. I’m not an Aresist by any means, but the man was an endless fountain of Earth First! bullshit.

I smile to myself when Reine pushes back. Good girl, don’t let them get the boot in. I saunter over towards the two of them, wiping my hands on a convenient rag and giving my radio the side-eye. “Yeah Jacobs, some of us enjoy a bit of quiet. Lets us get things done. And Facilities and Motor Pool are both Logistics so, you know, she actually belongs here.” I toss my rag to him and give the radio a couple of speculative taps, maybe its shorting out?

“So actually, that raises the question: what is TacStrat’s errand boy is doing on the wrong side of the dome?”

quote:

Sideways, the Driver
Looks: Woman, utility wear, gorgeous face, cold eyes, Slim body,
Stats: Cool+2 Hard=0 Hot+1 Sharp+1 Weird-1
Gear: sawed-off (3-harm close reload messy), oddments worth 4-barter, stained fatigues

Moves:
Eye on the door: name your escape route and roll+cool. On a 10+, you’re gone. On
a 7–9, you can go or stay, but if you go it costs you: leave something behind or take
something with you, the MC will tell you what. On a miss, you’re caught vulnerable, half
in and half out.

My other car is a tank: you get a specialized battle vehicle (detail with the MC).


Lyft: Massive +2, Speed 0, Handling 1, Armor 1 (4x4, rugged, off-road, quirky, guzzler)


Thumper Massive +2, Speed 0, Handling 1, Armor 2 (4x4, rugged, off-road, sleek, cramped) Mounted 50cal mg (5-harm far area messy)

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 1

I give him a long look. Jen and her friends... last night. Sure they'd explained it. It hurt that Fitzergald was keeping quiet about it. But on the other hand. It's one of the Major's people. And she one of the highest ranking people here. I'm trying to keep disciline here, keep us acting like a goddamn military as much as possible, but I'm not blind. Between Been, that cult and general disobedience, the major was drat necessary as one of the forces keeping some military order. Even if she didn't always keep her own in check.

His own feelings about her were... complicated. She was a soldier through and through. She went at the bugs hard and without mercy. She'd be the one standing first in line for the medals if there was any justice, that's for sure. If everyone had her amount of spine, this war would be done. But when it came to things besides killing bugs. (like shooting Been in the head) she was letting things go. And she was a major. One of the highest ranking persons, if not THE highest ranking person on the planet. He couldn't just force it back. But then, it wasn't sure this was done with her permission.

He'd fine out he supposed. For now, best not to make Fitzergald more uncomfortable than needed.

"Alright then. Let' me see what I can do for you. Hey, folks!" I call out, getting the attention of the few people who are around. "I know we're all lacking everything here. But we're all soldiers here, and we gotta help eachother out. So since Fitzergald here seems to be a bit uneven right now, I'd like people to see what people can do for him. The more he can help the Mess Hall Out, the more time we can spend growing and cooking food for the bunch of you. So I'd be really loving pleased if someone could bring me a something decent for our chivalrous private here. A soldier maimed in the line of duty doesn't just hop around like that. I think it'd be a loving disgrace to the lot of us. So... enjoy your coffee, You've earned it. But keep your ear out."

@Sgt. Vasile Petrescu (Shogeton): 2d6+2 finger in every pie = (1+1)+2 = 4 Well, at least I got to roll hot, but that means, it shows up, now or later, but strings wicked attached

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


Major Roosevelt Profit

The Chopper

Kat and Jesus stand at attention, naked as the day they were born, in full view of the regiment. I was already less than pleased, having to deal with the fallout from the relief operation three days ago. Bad intel and a lack of discipline and we drove straight into an ambush. Took some casualties we shouldn't have. Didn't find anyone in the outpost intact enough to bring back. No, I am not pleased.

"It seems," I say, pacing back and forth in front of the two, but addressing the rest of Shrikes, turned out from their bunks to stand at attention. "That I haven't been giving you enough to occupy your time. That you have taken the drop in our operational tempo as a reason to slack off, instead of using the opportunity to prepare."

"It seems you have forgotten what our purpose here is," I continue. "So I will remind you. Our purpose is to take the fight to the enemy! To destroy the enemy! And in order to do that, I expect this regiment to be battle ready at all times. This is an AirCav outfit, and AirCav fights anywhere, anytime! And perhaps I misjudge," I say, looking two two up and down, "but I don't think you two are prepared to do that."

I turn away from them. "I expect this regiment to be fully on war footing within the next two hours. I am increasing the operation tempo. We are not going to sit here and wait for the bugs to come over the wire, or for the intel pukes to differentiate their assholes from their elbows! We are going to do what AirCav is meant for - we are going to do recon in force, and we are going to gently caress up the enemies program, wherever the gently caress they are! Am I understood?"

"Urrah!" the regiment replies in unison. Good. We've been on the back foot too long.

"You have two hours to unfuck yourselves. I expect all operation speeders at the start line, and all squads squared away well before then. Briefing with squad leaders then. Expect to be on the move within a half hour of assembly. Dismissed!"

The Shrikes scatter like water on a hot pan. Kat and Jesus start, but halt when I fix them with a glare. I crook a finger at Bish, who comes over, trailing Gupta and Dogman like particularly ugly shadows. "Now, slowly and using small words, I want you two to explain your lack of proper uniform."

Chopper posted:

Name: Profit (Major Roosevelt Profit)
Look: Woman, combat wear, strong face, calculating eyes, sturdy body

Stats: Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot=0 Sharp+1 Weird-1
Armor: 2-armor

Moves:
Pack alpha: when you try to impose your will on your gang, roll+hard. On a 10+, all 3. On a 7–9, choose 1:
• They do what you want. (Otherwise, they refuse.)
• They don’t fight back over it. (Otherwise, they do fight back.)
• You don’t have to make an example of one of them. (Otherwise, you must.)
On a miss, someone in your gang makes a bid, idle or serious, to replace you for alpha.

loving thieves: when you have your gang search their pockets and saddlebags for something, roll+hard. It has to be something small enough to fit. On a 10+, one of you happens to have just the thing, or close enough. On a 7–9, one of you happens to have something pretty close, unless what you’re looking for is hi-tech, in which case no dice. On a miss, one of you used to have just the thing, but it turns out that some asswipe stole it from you

Speeder posted:

RLS-4B Dagger
Stats: Speed+1 Handling=0 Massive=0
Armor: 0-armor

Looks: Roaring, muscular

Strengths: Aggressive, rugged
Weakness: Unreliable

Gear: 2-barter
Speeder
Combat shotgun (3-harm close reload messy)
Machete (3-harm hand messy)
Fatigues, combat armor, helmet (2-armor)

HX:
Zee+3
Willie 'Sideways' Thompson+1
Lance Corporal Aboah-1
Reine+0
Sgt. Vasile Petrescu-1
Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff+2

2272nd Air Cavalry Troop, The Shrikes

Gang posted:

Stats: 3-harm gang medium savage 1-armor
Options: Well-armed, 30 or so violent bastards
Vulnerable: Grounded. Your gang’s bikes are picky and high-maintenance.

Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at Mar 19, 2018 around 00:08

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 6-barter

I'm about to bite off some flippant reply about how, yes, it was, in fact, a really good book and I'd appreciate it if he'd leave me alone with it when my mind... I don't know, it turns flip-ways, maybe, the world sort of going all crazy technicolor as I tap into the greater whole I'm now connected to. I called it a web, earlier, but maybe that's not quite right. Hell, I'm not sure if the words exist. It's like I'm piggybacking off of something that thinks and perceives in ways that'd break a normal brain just trying to imagine. Luckily, or unluckily, I'm not exactly normal. It takes a few moments to flex mental muscles I didn't know I had, but I eventually manage to piece together the whispers, the sensations, into something that makes sense. More or less.

So while Sideways steps up to bat, I'm a little busy with a loving psychic revelation. And speaking of? That's a drat fine image. I mean, sure, it doesn't take one of those creepy-rear end MILINT types to put the pieces together. It wants off this rock. The... whatever I'm becoming. Whatever I am. But you know what? I want off this rock too. I'm not about to wave off an escape plan like that. Now there's more than a few problems I can think of: those jump shuttles aren't exactly meant for a long haul. I'd need to sort out some sort of cryo, maybe, or at least have enough juice to sip while I drift towards the nearest garden world. Plus all the shuttles I can think of have been strip-mined for parts to keep this shithole running. So... that'd take some doing. A project for later. Hopefully my, uh, other self can contain itself a bit while I do the groundwork.

Of course, I guess that whole conversation never really stopped. Piping back up, I tap the faded patch on my jacket and say, "Right. Sustaining Victory and all that."

Tricky fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:28

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson and Reine

Jacob shrugs, "look, I'm not trying to be a dick here. Reine is integral to operations now and... like, I think she's cool. But look at her! She's zonked out again!" Jacob snaps his fingers right at her eyes again and she doesn't even flinch, "if she's not high she needs a concussion protocol or something."

When Reine's eyes focus again he sighs, "And I'm here because I keep getting brown outs whenever I run a simulation. Now, I know Martians like to dive right into poo poo, but us Earthers value our lives and we want tac simulation to loving work. I checked all over the place for you.

Sideways taps the radio and Jacob looks at it, "is that a person under the static? Comms are all hosed up but it could be Firebase Hammer, I've been looking for a sitrep from there. poo poo, could even be Ocean, or Central, or loving Orbit. I'll run over to comms and turn on a better rig, you see if you can hear anything here!"

Reine - No one in the base is contaminated besides you - for now. But you can feel plenty of minds out in the jungle. As you try to focus on minds just like yours, with some humanity, you think there's one a while west, and another east. West is the weird one, Firebase Anvil was supposed to be the furthest Western outpost.

What do you do?

Major Roosevelt Profit

The Shrikes get to work. They're eager for a fight and you have no trouble whipping them up into a frenzy. It's the waiting that gets them, not the fighting.

But you have two riders to deal with:
"See, I had pocket kings..."
"Who loving cares what you had, see, we were drunk"
"It was a sure bet"
"Really loving drunk, and we got to gambling with Been and his boys. We made some bad decisions"
"...What are the odds of a straight flush on the draw?"
"Anyway, we figured it wasn't right to welsh on a bet."
"But it's alright, he said we could work it off and get the unis back, those are just collateral"

What do you do?

Sgt Vasile Petrescu

You send out word and people are enthusiastic. They're good soldiers still, they just need a mission. Now they have one. A group sets out to get the Private a new stump!

You work on the lunch rush, and it goes alright... Until Private Roflball starts muscling in on Fitzgerald. 'Helping' the 'cripple' on this off day, really showing that he can do the work better and faster.

What do you do?

quiggy
Aug 7, 2010

[in Russian] Oof.




Zee
Cool+1 | Hard=0 | Hot+1 | Sharp-1 | Weird+2
Harm: 0:00 | 1-armor | 4-barter | 0/5 XP

I rub my eyes. Another nightmare, of course, but always the same one, so it's fine. Look over. Of course, it's loving Isaiah there next to me--sorry, Brother Isaiah of the First Congregation of the Blessed Zee, if you go by the stupid title he gave himself--but at least he's got pancakes. And... eggs? I heard these aren't real eggs but they're good enough for me, so I gobble them down as quick as I can.

"How many times do I have to tell you guys you don't need to 'Ave Zee' me every time I wake up or take a poo poo?" I shoot my eyes over to Isaiah. "Brother Isaiah, did you at least get me any coffee?"

I don't hear his answer. Too busy eating these pancakes and trying to ignore that feeling that I'm being watched. Doesn't feel right, honestly. An idea hits me.

"Brother Isaiah," I say, not even bothering to notice if he's brought me coffee or not. "Gather the rest of the faithful. I want to try something."

quote:

Name: Officially, Z-78b-X. I go by Zee.
Playbook: The Hocus
Stats: Cool+1, Hard=0, Hot+1, Sharp-1, Weird+2
Look: Managed to fashion myself a pretty badass getup from some leather I found lying around. Moves and breathes easy and makes me look scary as poo poo. Hot too--cape, tight pants, the works. Only thing that pisses me off is this drat collar they put on me before sending me out here. Haven't managed to get that off no matter how hard I've tried. Hope it's not communicating with them still.
Other: 1-armor (from Divine protection), oddments worth 4-barter

Moves:
Fortunes: fortune, surplus and want all depend on your followers. At the beginning of the session, roll+fortune. On a 10+, your followers have surplus. On a 7–9, they have surplus, but choose 1 want. On a miss, they are in want. If their surplus lists barter, like 1-barter or 2-barter, that’s your personal share, to spend for your lifestyle or for what you will.

Frenzy: When you speak the truth to a mob, roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7–9, hold 1. Spend your hold 1 for 1 to make the mob:
• Bring people forward and deliver them.
• Bring forward all their precious things.
• Unite and fight for you as a gang (2-harm 0-armor size appropriate).
• Fall into an orgy of uninhibited emotion: loving, lamenting, fighting, sharing, celebrating, as you choose.
• Go quietly back to their lives.
On a miss, the mob turns on you.

Divine protection: your gods give you 1-armor. If you wear armor, use that instead, they don’t add.

Followers:
By default you have around 20 followers, loyal to you but not fanatical. They have their own lives apart from you, integrated in the local population (fortune+1 surplus: 1-barter want: desertion).
Characterize them (choose one): your cult
If you travel, decide whether they congregate in their own communities

Also:
• Your followers, taken as a body, constitute a powerful psychic antenna. Surplus: +augury.
• Your followers are rigorous and argumentative. Surplus: +insight.

But:
• You have few followers, 10 or fewer. Surplus: -1barter.
• Your followers disdain law, peace, reason and society. Surplus: +violence.

Hx:
Willie 'Sideways' Thompson (PoultryGeist): Hx+2
Maj. Roosevelt Profit (Comrade Gorbash): Hx+3
LCpl. Jacob D Aboah (Error 404): Hx+1
Spec. Reine (Tricky): Hx+1
Sgt. Vasile Petrescu (Shogeton): Hx+1
Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff (Platonicsolid): Hx+1

Platonicsolid
Nov 17, 2008



Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff

Cool: +3 | Hard 0 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1

Ah, the glory that is my illustrious commanding officer. I'm in the weapons shack, a simple open-sided shack with a metal roof, a couple workbenches and some work cabinets. Basic stuff, nothing fancy, but proper weapon maintenance isn't fancy. I straighten slowly. I've got my sidearm. I could just shoot this fucker in the head.

'Captain'. Wouldn't have made it a day in the rebellion - he's everything broken and wrong about the Earthers. Decadent, entitled, disgusting. It wouldn't be a shock if his barracks caught fire. All sorts of exposive things around here, and it's a strange planet.

No, not yet.

I ignore his scratching, locking eyes with him. "Is that an order. Sir?" I ask, with no hiding the contempt in my voice.

@Casino (Platonicsolid): 2d6+1 Reading Been. = (1+3)+1 = 5
Going to ask
What does your character (Been) intend to do?, in the context of Casey refusing

quote:

Name: Casey 'Casino' Duff

Playbook: The Battlebabe
Stats: Cool +3, Hard 0, Hot +1, Sharp +1, Weird -1
Look: Woman, showy armor, sharp face, caculating eyes, muscular body

Moves:
Merciless: When you inflict harm, inflict +1 harm.

Perfect Instincts: When you read a charged situation and you're acting on the MC's answers, take a +2 instead of +1.

Gear:
N271 Sharpshooter Rifle (2 harm far reload loud silenced hi-powered)
N17 Semi-automatic Pistol (2-harm close reload semi-automatic loud ap-ammo)

HX:
Zee (Quiggy) Hx-1
Willie 'Sideways' Thompson (PoultryGeist) - Hx -1
Lance Corporal Aboah (Error 404) - Hx +3
Reine (Tricky) - Hx+3
Major Roosevelt Profit (Commrade Gorbash) - Hx +3
Sgt. Vasile Petrescu (Shogeton) - Hx -1

Platonicsolid fucked around with this message at Dec 14, 2017 around 18:29

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff

Been chuckles humorlessly, "what, are you still taking orders? Behind the times there. I realized a while back, without the whole military industrial complex, without society to keep us in check, we revert to the basics. People get more simple. Incentive, response. Carrot and stick. I don't give orders, I make offers and threats, and only when I can carry them out. Now, you're coming off a bit hostile here, which is weird because I'm just looking to make friends and I'm not into dominatrix poo poo."

In the context of you refusing he plans on walking away and then loving with you, severity depending on politeness of the refusal.

Hey, answer a few questions for me:
1. How could he get your character to work for him? (and "no way" is not a loving answer this time)
2. How are you vulnerable to him?
3. What should he be on the lookout for?


Zee

"But the holy shits of the Herald must be honored!" Isaiah winks, be he does not give you coffee. That stuff is harder to sneak out. The group disperses to get the less dedicated members. Isaiah stays though. He has news:

"One of our Friends witnessed something important about 20 minutes ago. Three Shrikes took over a piece of medical to put a proper peg on one of their wounded. Toyota came in with a big group of guys. The Shrikes are dead and Toyota left with the peg. This may lead to a conflict between the Shrikes and the Old Guard. Do you have any insight? What should we do?"

What do you do?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson

Right as Jacob leaves, Ode comes in. He's one of Zee's followers, but like you he keeps it on the down-low so he can still hang in the Mess (and sneak food out for Zee). He leans on the table next to the static radio, all casual. "Our, Good Friend is calling the group together. I think she got a weird vibe today. You wanna come?"

If you leave, it means you're not listing to the voice on the radio.

What do you do?

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 6-barter

I'm not exactly crying tears when Jacobs bails. Guy's an rear end. Still, I am a little worried that his sims are flickering. I'd thought I was being careful, but, well, guess I need the juice more than his play soldier poo poo. Not like there's a sim path that leads to us winning the war. I gotta make sure that someone else is set to take the fall if all goes to poo poo. Maybe get a private supply, even, though the only one I can think of is hooked up to Alboah's tin can. Fucker doesn't like to share and, alien mess or no, I can't exactly take him and his walker. Hm. Well, whatever. Maybe Profit has beef with him. She's given me some juice on the sly, plus I bet she's none too thrilled about a powerhouse like that smashing into our fine, hosed-up little world.

Sideways is talking to... Ode, I think. Not really in whatever circle he crawled out of. Wasn't even sure they were buddies, before now. I offer, "If you need to go, Willie, I can ride herd here. Got some reading to finish, but I can keep an ear out for anything on the radio."

Tricky fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:28

quiggy
Aug 7, 2010

[in Russian] Oof.




Zee
Cool+1 | Hard=0 | Hot+1 | Sharp-1 | Weird+2
Harm: 0:00 | 1-armor | 4-barter | 0/5 XP

"20 minutes ago?" Word moves fast around here, I note. "Hmm. In truth I'm not too concerned about it. So long as we don't have a unified leader here, we're gonna have squabbles over everything big and small. Shrikes and Old Guard can fight each other over some extra bread rations if they really want. Although..."

It dawns on me that, given the small size of my crew, we could probably use some medical equipment. In theory all the equipment is open to all, but since breakdown in regular order that hasn't exactly been the case. And I know that we're simply too small and not well-armed enough to take on either the Shrikes or the Old Guard, no matter how rowdy I can make these guys.

All the more reason I need some information, figure out what's what right now.

"How loving hard can it be to gather half a dozen more of you, seriously Isaiah? See if you can't hurry this up!"

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

Lcpl Jake
harm 0:00 hunger 3:00 | XP 0/5
Armor systems// armor 2 damage 0:00 charge 0:00 ammo 0:00


It's morning. My eyes snap open to the stained plascrete ceiling above my bunk. I turn my head and see my armor standing in the corner, charged up and ready, its SARGe fully cleaned and loaded, stowed over it's shoulder on its support arm.

My head is splitting, seems to happen everytime I leave my armor, but a guy's gotta sleep.

D-Day, a few weeks ago posted:

We're all suited up and gathered in the Drop Bay of the MSVTC Fortunate Son, The entire company of the 219th (Tandy's Terrors) is going through final pre-Drop checks and mission briefing.

Major Tandy is upfront bellowing. Covering the main points that we already read from the mission briefs, reiterating the primary, secondary, and tertiary goals.
1. secure the VIP
2. grab the flower for R&D
3. Reinforce and assist local unit c/o FIREBASE ANVIL, Observe and Report.

I sit up from the bunk, and pull on my interface suit, it fits like a second skin. Next, I pull on the basic field uniform that I always kept stored in the utility compartment of my armor. Everything I have in this world is whatever I carried in with me in the Drop. Fuckin bugs.

D-Day posted:

The last thing I see is the face of a technician before she closes my drop pod. My helmet seals and I have a few seconds of peaceful claustrophobic blackness before my armor's hud and sensors paint the inside of my faceplate with a better-than-real color HUD with info tags of my surroundings in 360 degrees.

My comms crackle to life again. Tandy. "Lo as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will shall fear no evil. For we are the baddest motherfuckers in said valley! OORAH!

Fortunate Son Control- this is 219 actual, drop when ready"

"219 actual, Fortunate Son ready for drop...firing"

My guts climb up my throat as the G-forces slam me around in my suit. I feel nothing, but my HUD tells me the temp outside is rising as my pod's ablative heat shielding does its job. I watch the altimeter tick its way down to zero...
I walk over to my armor, when not in use it stands tall and still, like a statue, its back panels and arms levered open for me to step inside. I don't need it at this moment. I just reach inside and grab one of the edible containers of Suit ration. It tastes like gatorade with the consistency of snot, but it keeps you going. gently caress, I miss coffee.

D-Day posted:

Silence, aside from the roaring of re-entry outside my pod. I watch my readouts, tracking the other pods of the 219th, I watch a couple wink out. bad fuckin luck, The fuckin Bugs don't have quite the same level of tech as we do, they're mostly equivalent to human tech circa the XXth century. But they got pretty decent anti-air. As we find out one or two MI at a time every drop...

I loosen my knees as my altimeter hits zero, the drop pod hits ground and basically shatters, as it's supposed to, leaving me standing on a small pad of smoking heat shield.

With a thought, the Armor's support arm folds forward, under my right arm, extending the SARGe for my hands to grasp. I swing the weapon around, seeking targets.

Three Bug warrior caste emerge from the trees, pointed legs slicing the turf, rifles cradled in their forward arms. I react on pure reflex. SARGe spits greenish silver lightning with a world ending scream. The plasma byproduct of a full auto burst of tiny tungsten bbs accelerated by the gun's rails never fails to be impressive.

The next 37 hours are a blur of death, frantic radio calls, and terrifying silences as I fight through the jungle. I managed to connect with a couple others in my unit, but they all fuckin bought it before long. I heard screams of the injured, the dying, and worse until I met up with a couple of The Shrikes. I was almost entirely out of ammo for SARGe and was down to only my sidearm...
I pop the mag on my pistol, checking that it's full before replacing it, racking the slide and keeping a round in the chamber, before reholstering it.
I leave my bunk and make my way to the mess, Sergeant Vasily is one of the few genuinely friendly faces I've met here at FB Anvil. And he's usually got a pretty good idea what's going on around here at any given time.

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 2

Alright. Let's see if we can talk to the major after lunch. Figure this out. For all I know she's all about making an example of those two for robbing their fellow soldiers. Maybe this'll all get cleared up quickly.

I'm getting in the usual habit of getting lunch ready, when private Roflbal shows up. loving hell. I can't blame the kid. Getting perimeter duty is scary poo poo, and we lose folks to it. And there's nothing abnormal about privates trying to get into cushy duties to avoid dangerous or unpleasant one. Proud, military tradition as old as time. And I'm sure he'd work hard if I took him, but everyone of the folks I got working here brings poo poo to the table someone else couldn't do. And I'm not taking someone away from the perimeter unless I really need him. Fitzergald losing his leg is bad, but he can still draw like hell. We should still be able to manage.

But I'm not gonna just tell him 'never happening' partly because this place is dangerous. Any of us could bite it, and cold as it sounds, then people need replacing. gently caress, I'm pretty sure Corporal Katembo would step in if I go down, but he'd have to get someone else too. But I can't have him get Fitzergald further down then he already is. But I figure I've got some idea. I try to find our green thumbs. "Hey, al'Kurashi. You think you'd have some time to see if Roflbar there has a green thumb? In his spare time of course."

I look to the side and see a welcome face there. "Ah, Lance Corporal Jake. Good to see you in time for lunch." I then recall his weird 'don't eat anything from the planet' order he's got. Wierd, but on the other hand, hopeful. Unless command is just randomly sending highly equipped troops down to starve to death, it means they expect to end this quickly, right? "Well, good company is part of a good lunch too, right?"

Shogeton fucked around with this message at Dec 15, 2017 around 01:30

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

Lcpl Jake Aboah
harm 0:00 hunger 3:00 | XP 0/5
Armor systems// armor 2 damage 0:00 charge 0:00 ammo 0:00


"Hey, Seargent" I sketch a quick salute as I enter the mess, "How's things?"

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 2

"Could be better, could be better. Because of circumstances, Fitzergald here lost his leg, the prosthetic one, not his other good one, fortunately. Asked some people to keep an eye out for a replacement. Perhaps some poor unlucky sod who doesn't need it anymore. Even a decent fitting peg leg would be an upgrade from having the guy have to hop like that. You find something, you let me know, alright? So how are you. Anything up?"

I know he can't tell me much. But the fact that it's all so secret makes me so very hopeful command is getting ready to do something big. Of course they'd keep it a secret. Opsec and all that.

I look at Fitzergald. "Fitzergald, you sit down for a bit, buddy. Don't you worry. I'll work you harder to make up for it once we get you a new leg." Don't want the guy to think I'm ditching him.

Shogeton fucked around with this message at Dec 15, 2017 around 02:15

PoultryGeist
Feb 26, 2013

Crystals?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson
Hard =0 | Cool +2 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1
Barter=4 | Harm=0:00 | XP ○○○○○»

I am torn, I may not be a radio jockey but having some idea of what the hell is going on outside the base would be nice. But luckily Reine steps up for me. “Thanks girl. I hopefully won’t be gone long, I’ll take Lyft. Might be able to pick something up on his radio, and you can get me on the horn if need be.”

I hop in my transport and fiddle with the radio set to see if I can pull in that signal. Barely waiting for Ode to find his seat, I haul out of the garage, Lyft’s treads finding easy purchase in the muddy gravel outside the motor pool. “So Brother-mine, Our Friend happen to give any deets on this vibe? Was pulling in an odd signal there, might be something going on beyond the wire.”

Strictly speaking using Lyft is probably a little overkill, its not that far to Zee’s place. But for a few minutes I get to feel the wind in my hair without worrying about bugstrike. Its a rare thing and I’ll take it when I can.

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


Major Roosevelt Profit
Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot=0 Sharp+1 Weird-1 | 0:00 Harm | 2-Armor | XP ○○○○○» | 0-Barter
RLS-4B Dagger Speed+1 Handling=0 Massive=0 0-armor | Shrikes 3-harm gang medium savage 1-armor


Been. Of course. I glare at the two. "Those uniforms were not yours to use as collateral. Now, the two of your are going to put on some loving pants, and then report to your units. You will also be confined to quarters and placed on KP for the next week. Be thankful I am feeling merciful today. Now get out of my sight."

I turn back to Bish. "Grab two more of your people, and your gear. I have a bone to pick with Captain Been." I make good on the order for myself, grabbing my shotgun, my chete, and my armor and meeting up at the gate to the motorpool, to Shrike territory. "Let's go."

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Zee AND Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson

Sideways, you zoom right over to meet with the rest of the congregation. Almost everyone is assembled, a bit dangerous really for the people still on the down-low, but how are you going to be part of the group if you don't go to the meetings and experience the weird poo poo?

Zee, you have enough people now. They're gathered expectantly, waiting for your revelation. How are they looking? (I don't think you rolled Fortunes, so do that to answer this.)

What do you do?

Sgt Vasile Petrescu

He takes to the suggestion well. Like, really well. His face lights up and he gives you a hug. You're not sure if Roflball picked up that "spare time" means he's still on schedule to head out into the jungle tomorrow, but he's happy for now to try his hand at being an assistant gardener.

Jake Aboah is definitely a source of hope for rescue. In fact, you can see a number of the more despairing recruits eyeing him hard. You can tell what they want: hope, news from home, a connection to the outside. And everyone knows Landfall Marines have a direct beacon to orbit that might be able to get through the chaff.

What do you do?

Lcpl Jake Aboah

You're chatting with Vasile like nothing is wrong and everyone around you is chowing down. How do you feel about that? Mess is pretty busy right now, but people are giving a bit of a wide berth, almost reverent. Anyway, you came here for a reason right?

What do you do?

Spc. Reine

You stay and listen. You really can't pick out words, but with your mind still freshly opened to the hive, you hear something else. The meaning behind the words. This voice? It's 'human' but not 100%. Contaminated like you. Once you realize that, you start to hear his mind as much as his voice, and it's clear as day. This is a trap. The voice is trying to lure people with a false SOS. But it's also a recruitment message, he doesn't want to kill them, at least not all of them, he wants to convert them. Some portion of the group is supposed to "survive" and return to base, only changed.

What do you do?

Profit

You're on hold for a second, but in the meantime maybe you can help me out:
1. Who are your squad leaders?
2. What happens to a Shrike when they're too wounded to ride? Are they still a Shrike?
3. Who was in charge of Jen?

Platonicsolid
Nov 17, 2008



Lt. Casey 'Casino' Duff
Cool: +3 | Hard 0 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1

I'm used to his rants and meanderings. It's the usual primitivist bullshit - we got this on Mars a lot, usually to justifiy weird sex cults. I like weird sex as much as the next girl, don't need to spin a fancy yarn about the 'natural order'.

He knows, he knows about Pittstown Dome, knows it was me. Told me in the creepiest way, too, in the showers. Claimed he has a dead-drop somewhere, so if anything happens to him...

I study his 'squad' behind him, and straighten up my shoulders. "Fine," I say. "I'll work it out with Vasile. You better get me that bourbon." Maybe Vaile will split it in payment. Images of shooting Been flash through my head again. I'll have to see if I can get eyes on him, find out where the drop is, even if it is.

"Get the gently caress out of her," I tell him with a wave, going to re-assemble my rifle. A few cleansing minutes of silence, metal against metal, the smell of oil. I sling it on my back and head for the Mess Hall.

"Vasile," I call as I enter, giving a wave. "Need a minute."

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Sgt Vasile Petrescu
Cool: 0 Hard: +1 Hot: +2 Sharp: +1 Weird -1
XP: 2

"You make sure you're attentive on that poo poo, Roflball. That garden is goddamn important. And if you were working in the mess, that hug would earn you toilet cleaning duty for a week!" I say, but I don't put too much brimstone in it. Just a reminder that if he ends up working here, it means I'm gonna ride his rear end harder about being a proper soldier.

I was hoping to talk more to Aboah, but Lt. Casino just entered. Indoors, no hat, so no salute, but she's still an officer, so she gets my immediate attention. "Lieutenant." I say. "What can I help you with?"

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Major Roosevelt Profit

You roll up on Been's "pleasure dome" i.e. his barracks. It's early afternoon by now, which means a fair number of his more dedicated clients are still zoned out. Been's boys are at attention though. Here's something about Been most people don't recognize: for all that he's a hosed-up drug-addled primativist pimp, he might be the best 'leader' on base besides you. He didn't make his rank off bullshit, you remember when he was a respected officer with a goddamn gold cross on his chest. Something broke in his head, but whatever his hosed up methods he has men on attention at the crack of dawn, armed and alert, and his barracks is a harder point than you might expect.

You have no problem strolling right in. Bunks torn apart and made into giant mats, splayed with nude bodies. Canteens filled with bathtub hooch. A tac-screen hacked to display a collection of pirated movies privates snuck unto base.

Been is in the center of it, lounging in a large chair scavenged from a downed vehicle, sorting through a pile of "barter," mission critical supplies and equipment people traded him last night for a day of forgetting their troubles.

He gives you a half-assed, ironic salute as you stride in, not bothering to stand up, "Major! What can I do for you this morning?"

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 6-barter

Mm, that's some poo poo. On the one hand, I'm not too concerned if an rear end in a top hat like Jacobs wanders into a trap. It'd loving suck if he got recruited, though, cause that'd mean his shithole mind would be all up in mine. The idea makes my skin crawl. Now, I don't know, if Sideways was in? Wouldn't be so bad. She's quiet enough, seems to get the vibe that the planet is shooting into all of us. Plus there's the tank. Wouldn't be a bad idea to have her firmly with me — us — if Alboah decides that we're all expendable. Not exactly sure how that would work, though. Do I need to exchange fluids, or...? That's partly aimed at my newfound partner in contamination, partly idle consideration.

I scrabble down a quick note with my findings on the radio, slide it under there, and pocket the technical manual. Not gonna cut in on a fellow member of the mind's action, not until they cut in on mine. Forget reading, now's the time to figure poo poo out in the base. The spaceship thing is going to need tools I haven't gotten sorted yet anyways. Hm... poo poo. All this psychic poo poo is giving me a headache. Might need a little of Vasile's bean juice to kick it. Of course, there's also the thought that if it is swapping fluids, I could start an outbreak by getting in good with Been. Not gonna do any of his grease-cut bullshit, no, but word is you can get all sorts of pleasure for the right price. I've been hoarding the good stuff as much as anyone.

...Y'know, gently caress it. Why not both? I'll grab a cup of coffee, it's almost time for lunch, and then I can look into Been's racket a little later on. I grab my stuff, such as it is, and make a bee-line for the chow hall.

Tricky fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:26

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Spc. Reine

Your new friend is pretty far away, that seems to weaken the connection a bit (if you want the real good stuff you have to "read" him, is that what you're going for?). But you do get an answer, fluid exchange will begin contamination. More fluids, more contaminant. You think loving is probably the easiest way to do it, though donating blood might be even more effective. You head to the mess for some coffee, no problem at all. Petrescu is focused on Casino, but Derek is happy to fill your cup with a smile. You're very much welcome here.

What do you do?

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 6-barter

I bite back a yawn, thank Derek for the cuppa, and catch a seat. I can feel myself perking up as I work my way through. Some things never change, huh? May not need food, but caffeine still gives me a buzz. I say, "So what's the word around the Firebase, Derek?"

Tricky fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:26

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


Major Roosevelt Profit
Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot=0 Sharp+1 Weird-1 | 0:00 Harm | 2-Armor | XP ○○○○○» | 0-Barter
RLS-4B Dagger Speed+1 Handling=0 Massive=0 0-armor | Shrikes 3-harm gang medium savage 1-armor


I walk up to his little junk throne and stop, feet planted and hands behind my back. Echo section forms up behind me.

"Captain Been." I don't bother returning the salute, and pointedly ignore the revelers and burnouts around me. "I understand two of mine were here last night. They came back missing something. Something that wasn't their's to lose. I'm here to collect them. And to make sure we're on the same page when it comes to what's acceptable barter, or... collateral."

1. Who are your squad leaders?
Capt. Ntilikina leads Alpha section, with Sgt. Jordan running a squad under him. Lt. Mtumbe has Bravo section, with Lt. Heisenberg handling a squad. Lt. Bishop runs Echo section, and then Lt. Min is technically in charge of the other auxiliary units, though Sgt. Fang and Sgt. Sarnai mostly handle their own poo poo. Losses have hosed with the rank structure a bit, got to do some brevet promotions when I get a chance.

2. What happens to a Shrike when they're too wounded to ride? Are they still a Shrike?
Once a Shrike, always a Shrike. Anyone hurt that bad should be med evac'd off world, but poo poo all of that's been happening. So I've got a little collection of clerks and mechanics made up of former troopers who got too hosed up to ride.

3. Who was in charge of Jen?
She used to be with Echo section, so Bish still checks in on her, but Little Tony is in charge of our support staff. He is the actual proper loving regimental clerk after all.

Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at Dec 29, 2017 around 20:44

PoultryGeist
Feb 26, 2013

Crystals?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson
Hard =0 | Cool +2 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1
Barter=4 | Harm=0:00 | XP ○○○○○»

I scan the group and the meeting room, I may not be doing something illegal right now but its in the same ballpark and old habits die hard. Isaiah, Ode, and a few others I know, but there are alot of folks here I’ve only seen in passing. Hopefully Zee’s Message today will be a good one, help settle me down. From the shouting at the other end of the motor pool, the Major wouldn’t take kindly to me field-striping a speeder to help calm my nerves.

quiggy
Aug 7, 2010

[in Russian] Oof.




Zee
Cool+1 | Hard=0 | Hot+1 | Sharp-1 | Weird+2
Harm: 0:00 | 1-armor | 4-barter | 1/5 XP

I look around at my... cult, I guess? gently caress it, my cult, why not. They're small, but they're hungry. Hungry to hear my words, and hungry to fight whatever it is that needs fighting. Perfect. I can use 'em for what I need to.

I order them to form circle and link hands, and I move to the center of the circle. Only done this a few times before, but that's fine. This will be fine. I place my hand on Brother Isaiah's head, and I feel my brain beginning to open. Then, like a sudden rush, I feel their brains open as well, as they channel me and push deep into the maelstrom.

I feel the maelstrom open to me, and I begin to search far and wide for whatever it is I sense watching me and my followers. There will be no hiding from me.

Fortunes (+fortune): 2d6+1 12 Surplus includes augury, insight, and violence.

Augury (+weird): 2d6+2 10. (Highlighted stat, marking XP). Selecting Open a window into the world's psychic maelstrom, with It reaches broadly into the world's psychic maelstrom and It's stable and contained, no bleeding.

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Zee

You join hands with the congregation and merge their minds with yours. This place has made you far stronger than before, and all their minds together act as an amplifier. You begin with them, but then with the human minds as your anchor you connect with something larger, the "mind" of this planet. The merged consciousness reveals itself to you. Your senses are flooded with thousands of impressions, voices, symbols, thoughts. But you were "trained" well. Electric shocks, isolation, sensory deprivation, countless tortures large and small. All of it not just to give you visions, but to give you useful visions. Useful to them. Military intelligence. Your collective subconscious automatically sorts signal from noise, actionable intelligence from vague symbolism. Soon in the circle formed by your cult an image appears.

It's a map, a big, tactical one. And on it is every single human, bug, network of sentient vines, and other weird hostile thing within hundreds of miles. As you focus on any particular point it appears with more clarity and further intelligence on their movements, motivations, capabilities, and plans begins to emerge. Some obvious options for your focus is this base, the other firebases, Central, Ocean, the research outposts, or enemy strongholds. You probably won't be able to hit them all before you lose control. This map will only stay as long as you maintain it.

What do you do?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson

Read Zee. What did that mind meld feel like for you? You're a part of this thing, you can focus on your own part of the map.

What do you do?

Major Roosevelt Profit

Been makes a gesture and two crisp uniforms are brought out, looks like he had them laundered, "Ah, I see where you're going with this. You're saying you own the Shrikes down to the clothes on their loving backs? Fine, fair. But here's the thing: they've been gambling with that poo poo for a while. When they win, they partake in my poo poo. When they lose suddenly it's a sob story about how their poo poo ain't their poo poo. It's loving irritating. Take the uniforms, I don't have any use for them. But if the Shrikes belong to you? So do their debts. And if you're not cool with that I'm banning you and the Shrikes from the Market."

Ok, so, getting banned from Been's market is no problem right? Except he probably has the most poo poo on base, including all the morphine, most of the antibiotics, and the anti-fungal creme. And you have wounded Shrikes and will likely have more.

Spc. Reine

Derek frowns, "well, it's a pretty poo poo day. Biggest piece of news is poor Fitzgerald was jumped this morning by a pack of barbarians or some poo poo. He's mum on the issue but a man comes in without his leg, what do you think happened? We have some people out searching for a replacement," he leans in close, "and the boss might not like it, but I heard some of the boys are real tired of this loving behavior, so they're looking for a bit of justice as well. I mean who loving takes a man's leg? That's some monstrous unconscionable poo poo right there. Somebody has to put some discipline back in these jokers. Other than that? Slow day, nothing even trying to come past the line. We're running out of egg-like protein powder so eat up while it lasts!"

While he's talking to you you start developing a headache and your thoughts keep drifting weirdly, like you're high or something.

What do you do?

PoultryGeist
Feb 26, 2013

Crystals?

Willie ‘Sideways’ Thompson
Hard =0 | Cool +2 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1
Barter=4 | Harm=0:00 | XP ●○○○○»

Singing.
Someone’s singing the old anthem: lo xunre plini.
Oh wait, I'm singing it. Weird, I didn’t think Momma taught me it, Daddy didn’t like her using Lojban in the house. Its weird, but comforting. Kinda like Zee. Momma Zee. Yeah.

I can feel all of us, Zee’s Children, echoing and babbling in the mindspace Momma Zee has given us. Its like we are all talking all of our thoughts all at once, and Momma Zee sits in the center. Sitting and smiling and shaping the thought-stuff. I can even feel a little of her thoughts, the shape of them as they caress mine.

The thought map is huge, so big that I can’t hold the entire thing in my head. So I focus on what’s important: our perimeter. Looking for the things that could threaten me and Momma Zee and Reine.

SidekickBOT - Today at 10:21 PM
@PFC 'Sideways' Thompson (PG): 2d6+1 Reading Momma Zee = (1+5)+1 = 7
Spending my one hold to ask: What does your character wish I’d do?

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.



Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot=0 Sharp+1 Weird-1 | 0:00 Harm | 2-Armor | XP ●○○○○» | 0-Barter
RLS-4B Dagger Speed+1 Handling=0 Massive=0 0-armor | Shrikes 3-harm gang medium savage 1-armor


I take a moment to force down my anger. Been's supplies are something my Shrikes need. I will take this out of those two idiots' hides though. Once I'm sure I can say it calmly, I ask "And what exactly did you have in mind to pay off that debt?" I keep my attention focused on the man, trying to get a feel for the angle he's playing this time.

@Profit (Comrade Gorbash): 2d6+1 Read a Person = (3+3)+1 = 7
• What does your character wish I’d do?

Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:19

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

Lcpl Jake Aboah
harm 0:00 hunger 3:00 | XP 0/5
Armor systems// armor 2 damage 0:00 charge 0:00 ammo 0:00


Getting the latest from the Sarge, I glance around at everyone eating, drinking coffee, talking quietly. I feel a pang of jealousy. I know there's good reasons I can't join in, and good reasons why I can't even explain to Vasily why I can't. gently caress knows I don't wanna get some kind of brainworms or who knows what.

I was planning on heading over to see the Shrikes anyway. I've gone on a few patrols with them. Being the only one from my unit, and the only one from MI, on base has been tough. No orders, no discipline, and gently caress if I'm going outside the wire again without having some kind of backup to scratch my back when the music starts. I still have my Mission.

"Thanks, sir, I'll see what I can find out about Fitzgerald's leg. I'm gonna check in with the Shrikes."

With another quick salute, I make my way to the motorpool, and find that the Major is out on business, but she's mustered her people. I check in with one of her sergeants about joining them On Mission (My particular brand of firepower has come in handy in a few scrapes), and leave to go get my armor.

I enter my bunk, and shuck my fatigues, leaving them folded on the bed. I secure my sidearm and holster to the hip of the armor, and then step inside,

A diode in the face plate winks from red to green and the back panels behind me close, sealing me inside. The small green light is the only thing I can see in the pitch blackness, I can hear my breathing, loud in the close confines of the armor. The light blinks, quickly and then slows down as the suit makes contact with the sensors in my Interface suit. I feel a small shiver down my back as the neural input sensors up and down the spine of the interface suit synch up with the armor systems. Armor like this is simultaneously very simple and very complex. It's designed to stay out of your way as much as possible, to wear it, you just wear it, if you can dance outside of the armor, you can dance inside it too.
But controlling the sensors, the HUDs, the comm channels, check your tac-feed and readouts, etc. all requires a highly trained and practiced brand of neurofeedback control, you think this command, in this specific way, and you cycle your comm channels, think this other command, and quickly double blink, and the suit creates a floating target reticle (with range/distance and atmospheric bullet drop analysis) over whatever object you were focusing on.
In BASIC, we spent three weeks on just the neural controls.

After a few seconds, the handshake protocol finishes, and the suit's reactor comes off of lockdown. The A/V suite comes online, painting the inside of my helmet with a condensed 360 degree full-color view. I feel stronger, more confident. Nothing can sneak up on me, nothing can touch me. 'Lo, as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...'

My audio pickups transmit the muted thuds of my footsteps as I make my way back toward Shrike-land. Almost as an unconscious tic my glance keeps drifting to the ammo counter for SARGe, it reads a steady green. 100%
'yup there's bullets in it'.

I present myself to the same Shrike sergeant I'd checked in with before. "Lance Aboah, reporting sir. Is there anything else I can do assist before we leave?"

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Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cool +1 | Hard +2 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2
Harm: 0:00 | Experience: ●●○○○» | 6-barter

I say, "poo poo, really? What kind of animal does that?" I'm a little hazy on who Fitz is, exactly, since the missing leg bit is... not exactly the most descriptive these days, but I'd probably recognize him if someone pointed him out in a crowd. Of course, before I can figure out who all is going to be killing each other (and the cooks!), my head starts killing me. It's like somebody's trying to do... something, I don't know. It's hard to even think straight. There's a lot of weird mental bullshit that I'm a part of now, but I'm not like a psychic expert or anything. I grimace at the feelings even as I down the last of my coffee, then hand the cup to Derek, "My head's killing me, must be some sort of allergies or something. Mind topping me off...?"

Once he goes to do that, I allow my thoughts to wander as I try and tap back into the mind. What the heck is causing all this? Is it the mind? Another contaminated person like me or the guy out west? Something weirder still?

quote:

SidekickBOT - Yesterday at 8:05 PM
@Spc. Reine (Tricky): 2d6+2 Opening Reine's Brain! = (6+1)+2 = 9

An impression and XP!

Tricky fucked around with this message at Dec 20, 2017 around 03:25

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