61
Other Games / Re: Minecraft - It has blocks.
« on: September 01, 2015, 10:42:48 am »
Holy crap - shaders, custom soundtrack, dune references, I love it. You deserve more views.
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62
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (SG) Please Drink Responsibly.
« on: September 01, 2015, 10:24:12 am »+1Let's use Nudge Will to make them less freak-out-y if it feels like they rise to something higher than just mild concern."some guys tried to kidnap me. I got away"+1 While we don't want to give them heart attacks and have AARP stocks increase, we should be honest with these folks within reason. Now, they needn't know the vampire business, but the kidnapping part is both true, and enough for them to grasp. I approve.
You introduce yourself, and the elderly couple introduce themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Ives. Afterwards you take a seat and explain what happened, though this requires omitting almost all of the details. They seem interested but not hugely upset with your explanation, bare bones as it was. You were abducted from the hospital, you don't know why, by three men who intended to do something bad to you, and you escaped, crawled into their garage, and fell asleep.
Mrs. Ives explains that they carried you upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms. They tell you that they can give you some spare clothing, feed you, and you can use the bath, phone, and even stay here for a while if you need to. They have a land line telephone, but no internet, and the telephone itself is a rotary dialer, so futzing around with that will be fun.
Afterward, Mr. Ives tells you “If you're mixed up in something bad, maybe in trouble with the law or criminals or what have you, maybe you should lie low here a little while. Up to you. You can stick around until Earl comes by, he could give you a drive in to town. Or you could walk out to the bus stop tomorrow - give you an old coat and some boots...”
Then, after a pause, “You want me to reheat supper? I wrapped some leftovers in foil, put em' in the fridge in case you were hungry.”
What now? >_
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63
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (SG) Please Drink Responsibly.
« on: August 31, 2015, 06:44:04 pm »Well, go meet and greet them. Thank for whatever they did to help me and apologize for being such a nuisance. Be polite. Also explain that I was running away from murderers so I took the fire poker only for my safety should they appear again.Umm.. no. Just leave the fire poker upstairs so that we at least don't freak them out on first impression. Then we can go downstairs and feed them more believable lies.
You set the fire poker back down where you found it, at least for now, and leave the room. The building is a fine, sturdily constructed old house, and fairly expansive. At one point, a large family must have lived here – there's even a framed photograph, in black and white, of what looks like a farming family. Or something like that. The light fixtures are electrical, but quite old – most of them have incandescent bulbs, but there's a lamp in a bedroom with a fluorescent lightbulb.
You descend the stairs into a wide, open kitchen. There's a sort of counter that divides a dining room from the food preparation area. A fridge and counters are lit by an overhead rack, but otherwise the only light source is the television and the floor-length lamp from the next room. The floors are mostly shining hardwood, though it's covered in some places with dingy carpet.
In the next room, a pair of seniors are sitting in matching leatherette recliners. Perhaps sixty years old, or a very well preserved seventy, they are dressed in clean but worn clothes. When you step into the room, they turn to look at you with somewhat bland expressions.
“Oh.” the woman says. “You're awake. You all right?”
The man asks “What happened to you, sonny?” in a lightly concerned tone.
What do you tell them, or do? >_
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64
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (ISG) Fantasy Suggestion RPG: The Baron's Castle
« on: August 31, 2015, 04:25:21 pm »
Gerald continues his studies with the holy book, and continues to pick stuff up. Vincent, now that he doesn't have to strain himself, is much more pleasant to be around and ceases to be rude to the other party members.
Loramil and Kurt spend most of their time conversing in elvish. Occasionally Loramil breaks out into verse. Vincent still seems worried about the goblin's agenda, but doesn't press the issue. Generally, the boat ride is pleasant and calm.
The party pulls up on a small beach as the sun begins to descend, and they unpack the boat and set up camp a little ways inland. Vincent and Loramil cover the boat with boughs, while the other three pitch tents and assemble a small campfire. Once camp is set, everyone gathers around the fire.
“So,” asks Vincent, “Where do we stand?”
Gerald shrugs. Is he supposed to know?
“Well,” says Esther, “I don't think my home is safe with the orcs and, uh, goblins loose in the countryside, and I want to find out what the Baron plans to do. So I guess I'll stick with everyone until we have this all sorted out.”
“You already know why I'm here.” Loramil says. “You probably haven't seen the end of the orcs yet, and I'd love to get some more practice with the sword in. The Baron will probably want my help fighting them off, so as long as we're heading into conflict, I'll accompany everyone.”
“Speaking of which,” Vincent says, “Gerald, I owe you an apology. My wounds made me a bit surly, and I didn't have time to think about things. With Sir Bernard passed on, as his squire, you now serve as the Knight for our home. This means I owe you my service. I should have told you this sooner, but wherever you go, I follow.”
Kurt tells everyone “I just wanna see how this all plays out. Someone sent ya that diabolic symbol for a reason, and it probably ain't good.”
The evening is quiet. Loramil volunteers to keep watch for the first part of the night since his sleep needs are much lower than a human's, and Kurt suggests that he does the last third of the night. Vincent shoots this down, since he's not comfortable with the goblin keeping watch, and volunteers himself to wake up early and do it. Gerald stays up a little late reading by the campfire. A lot of it goes over his head, but he can manage the simple things on his own.
The next morning, the party gets up, cooks a hot breakfast, breaks camp and gets back in the boat. The shore practically flies by as the boat flows downriver, and by the late afternoon the Baron's castle comes into sight.
The Baron's castle sits on top of a steep hill on one side of the river, overlooking Rivertown on the other side. The Stonebridge, which is exactly what the name makes it sound like, spans the gap between the town and the castle, which has multiple plumes of dark smoke coming from it.
Kurt climbs onto the bow of the ship and pulls out a spyglass.
“Looks like the place is gettin' attacked. I see the odd orc on the battlements...”
“All right, what will we do?” Vincent asks. “Should we dock on the castle's side and see if we can go help, or should we dock at Rivertown?”
Loramil and Kurt spend most of their time conversing in elvish. Occasionally Loramil breaks out into verse. Vincent still seems worried about the goblin's agenda, but doesn't press the issue. Generally, the boat ride is pleasant and calm.
The party pulls up on a small beach as the sun begins to descend, and they unpack the boat and set up camp a little ways inland. Vincent and Loramil cover the boat with boughs, while the other three pitch tents and assemble a small campfire. Once camp is set, everyone gathers around the fire.
“So,” asks Vincent, “Where do we stand?”
Gerald shrugs. Is he supposed to know?
“Well,” says Esther, “I don't think my home is safe with the orcs and, uh, goblins loose in the countryside, and I want to find out what the Baron plans to do. So I guess I'll stick with everyone until we have this all sorted out.”
“You already know why I'm here.” Loramil says. “You probably haven't seen the end of the orcs yet, and I'd love to get some more practice with the sword in. The Baron will probably want my help fighting them off, so as long as we're heading into conflict, I'll accompany everyone.”
“Speaking of which,” Vincent says, “Gerald, I owe you an apology. My wounds made me a bit surly, and I didn't have time to think about things. With Sir Bernard passed on, as his squire, you now serve as the Knight for our home. This means I owe you my service. I should have told you this sooner, but wherever you go, I follow.”
Kurt tells everyone “I just wanna see how this all plays out. Someone sent ya that diabolic symbol for a reason, and it probably ain't good.”
The evening is quiet. Loramil volunteers to keep watch for the first part of the night since his sleep needs are much lower than a human's, and Kurt suggests that he does the last third of the night. Vincent shoots this down, since he's not comfortable with the goblin keeping watch, and volunteers himself to wake up early and do it. Gerald stays up a little late reading by the campfire. A lot of it goes over his head, but he can manage the simple things on his own.
The next morning, the party gets up, cooks a hot breakfast, breaks camp and gets back in the boat. The shore practically flies by as the boat flows downriver, and by the late afternoon the Baron's castle comes into sight.
The Baron's castle sits on top of a steep hill on one side of the river, overlooking Rivertown on the other side. The Stonebridge, which is exactly what the name makes it sound like, spans the gap between the town and the castle, which has multiple plumes of dark smoke coming from it.
Kurt climbs onto the bow of the ship and pulls out a spyglass.
“Looks like the place is gettin' attacked. I see the odd orc on the battlements...”
“All right, what will we do?” Vincent asks. “Should we dock on the castle's side and see if we can go help, or should we dock at Rivertown?”
65
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (SG) Please Drink Responsibly.
« on: August 31, 2015, 10:41:54 am »Get up very, very silently and try to identify my location by looking out a window. Did someone leave their cellphone here by chance (or something like that?). If so, look at the time & date. Don't get ourselves locked out.
You slide out of bed very, very silently. The window is covered over by a thick curtain, and beyond it is a very old fashioned window. It's been repaired with caulk. Through the window, you can see the dark countryside. There's a few lights out through the woods that indicate other homes, and a light on the front of this house as well. You can see the roof of the garage you fell asleep in from here; someone must have carried you in.
You feel well rested. Did you sleep the day away?
search for weapon
If so, Sunglasses and his thugs might be looking for you. Better prepare yourself. Propped up against the wall under the mantlepiece there is a fire poker, part of a very long unused fireplace set. It'll do in a pinch as a club. You sneak to the edge of the room and listen through the doorway.
Listen to their conversation.
It sounds like a quite elderly couple are talking downstairs while a television playing very quietly in the background. An old man and woman, both with a rural accent. They sound bored, or maybe just matter-of-fact. The conversation is punctuated with a lot of odd pauses.
“- and no shoes, that's what confuses me.”
“Maybe he lost em'.”
“How does a man lose his shoes like that out there?”
“...Maybe he got his feet caught in a fence.”
“...Hm.”
“No socks, either.”
“No.”
“How'd he lose his socks out there?”
“...Maybe he got em' wet, took em' off, prevent frostbite?”
“...Hm.”
“Well, he'll need new ones. When he wakes up, I'll give em' some of my brothers socks.”
“...Hm.”
What now? >_
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66
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: Bats 'n' Boulders: A spelunking-based DnD, pretty much. [0/5]
« on: August 26, 2015, 12:32:01 am »OutSpoiler: sheet (click to show/hide)
This is the best character I have ever seen.
67
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: War of the Planets : Invader thread
« on: August 20, 2015, 05:33:27 pm »
How about orbital bombardment is just against our religion? Scorched earth tactics are abomination: we resort to them only after it's clear we have no chance of winning on the ground in a fair-ish fight? Some sort of proud-warrior-race aesthetic?
68
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: War of the Planets : Invader thread
« on: August 19, 2015, 10:36:41 pm »
The library stretched far above us, the ceiling a bright white square of neon tubing. The whole structure stretch a dozen stories, a wide open mezzanine with spiral ramps at the four corners for rolling up or down, elevators off to the side. Books, microfiches, and shelves full of records and LPs lined the library walls, along with intermittent paintings of previous Monarchs and Prophets. The air was clean, the floors polished stone, and it had a dry, preserved and cold feel to it.
Clerks staffed the desks lined along the entrance, guiding various administrator types to the shelves. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but I guess they figured me for a retainer of 'Seccie, but that suited me just fine. While we were making our way up, I caught a glance at one of the administrator types listening to a record player. His eyes were half closed and he silently mouthed along with the words, listening to it through an earbud that ran by a long cable to the player. He caught me looking and scowled.
At the top of the spiral ramp, the library branched into offices and the shelves showed numbered volumes of hard information in severe covers. Scribes were hunched over desks, frozen, and for all of me they could have been statues except that their eyes pored over the information on their screens.
“What is this place?” Vil asked me in a hushed chitter.
“Academic level.” I replied. Vil tilted her feelers quizzically.
“Didn't think you were the type.” she said.
“Yeah, well, there's a lot of things you don't know about m-”
I was cut off by an older scribe in a red poncho, feelers gray with age. “Hrrsk! Is that you?” He rolled towards me enthusiastically, and clumsily came to a halt a couple of feet away from us.
“Kskrsec, it's been a while.” I said. “Meet Vilsec. She's my partner.”
The two of them shook tentacles. “It's a pleasure, ma'am. A pleasure.” Then Kskrsec turned his attention back to me, flicked me on the frontplate with a feeler. “Hrrsk, you rascal. You haven't come to see me in months! What are you up to?”
“Well, you se-” I started.
“Maybe we can talk in your office?” Vilsec cut me off, and Kskrsec looked at the two of us curiously. “Well, uh, come along, right this way.”
He led us into his office, a dark paneled room. There was a tank full of crustacean things on one side, lit by bright neon. Little chitinous things circled around their tiny glass prison. Kskrsec sat at his desk, gestured at the mats set off to one side. On the wall there were a number of certificates in frames, some of them honorary and some of them earned.
“Can I offer you anything?” he asked, opening up his desk and pulling a small dark capsule out.
'Seccie shook blades just as I reached out, which threw him for a loop. I took a nip from the capsule, and I felt the edge come off. 'Seccie scowled a little, but I could feel the shakes coming on. You take what you can get.
“So, uh...” Kskrsec cleared his throat uneasily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, it's like this.” I explained. “We're working on this job together, see, and we found these disks. Encrypted data. I think it might help us crack this case if we knew what was on them, and, well, you're the guy to crack them.”
Kskrsec took a small measure of stimulant for himself.
“So you aren't just here to see your old teacher, then.” he grumbled.
“Teacher?” Vil asked.
Kskrsec turned to Vil and gestured at me. “Hrrsk here was one of my best students. Would have made a fine engineer one day. Smart.” and he looked at me with a little contempt, maybe a little regret. “Threw it all away.”
Vil threw up her feelers in a shrug. “Maybe the engineer life wasn't for him.”
Kskrsec gave us an inquisitorial look. “Maybe his chosen life isn't best for him either. Remember Glrxon?” The motherless flailer always did know how to touch a nerve.
I kept my peace. “So. About those disks...”
“Like I said, smart, but he sticks his feelers into things he shouldn't.” Then he turned to me. “You're not mixed up in anything illegal, are you my boy?”
“Maybe.” I replied. I tried appealing to his morals. “But this case, it's missing persons. There's a woman out there missing her husband. If you can help...”
Kskrsec considered it for a moment. “Well,” he finally conceded “I suppose.”
Clerks staffed the desks lined along the entrance, guiding various administrator types to the shelves. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but I guess they figured me for a retainer of 'Seccie, but that suited me just fine. While we were making our way up, I caught a glance at one of the administrator types listening to a record player. His eyes were half closed and he silently mouthed along with the words, listening to it through an earbud that ran by a long cable to the player. He caught me looking and scowled.
At the top of the spiral ramp, the library branched into offices and the shelves showed numbered volumes of hard information in severe covers. Scribes were hunched over desks, frozen, and for all of me they could have been statues except that their eyes pored over the information on their screens.
“What is this place?” Vil asked me in a hushed chitter.
“Academic level.” I replied. Vil tilted her feelers quizzically.
“Didn't think you were the type.” she said.
“Yeah, well, there's a lot of things you don't know about m-”
I was cut off by an older scribe in a red poncho, feelers gray with age. “Hrrsk! Is that you?” He rolled towards me enthusiastically, and clumsily came to a halt a couple of feet away from us.
“Kskrsec, it's been a while.” I said. “Meet Vilsec. She's my partner.”
The two of them shook tentacles. “It's a pleasure, ma'am. A pleasure.” Then Kskrsec turned his attention back to me, flicked me on the frontplate with a feeler. “Hrrsk, you rascal. You haven't come to see me in months! What are you up to?”
“Well, you se-” I started.
“Maybe we can talk in your office?” Vilsec cut me off, and Kskrsec looked at the two of us curiously. “Well, uh, come along, right this way.”
He led us into his office, a dark paneled room. There was a tank full of crustacean things on one side, lit by bright neon. Little chitinous things circled around their tiny glass prison. Kskrsec sat at his desk, gestured at the mats set off to one side. On the wall there were a number of certificates in frames, some of them honorary and some of them earned.
“Can I offer you anything?” he asked, opening up his desk and pulling a small dark capsule out.
'Seccie shook blades just as I reached out, which threw him for a loop. I took a nip from the capsule, and I felt the edge come off. 'Seccie scowled a little, but I could feel the shakes coming on. You take what you can get.
“So, uh...” Kskrsec cleared his throat uneasily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, it's like this.” I explained. “We're working on this job together, see, and we found these disks. Encrypted data. I think it might help us crack this case if we knew what was on them, and, well, you're the guy to crack them.”
Kskrsec took a small measure of stimulant for himself.
“So you aren't just here to see your old teacher, then.” he grumbled.
“Teacher?” Vil asked.
Kskrsec turned to Vil and gestured at me. “Hrrsk here was one of my best students. Would have made a fine engineer one day. Smart.” and he looked at me with a little contempt, maybe a little regret. “Threw it all away.”
Vil threw up her feelers in a shrug. “Maybe the engineer life wasn't for him.”
Kskrsec gave us an inquisitorial look. “Maybe his chosen life isn't best for him either. Remember Glrxon?” The motherless flailer always did know how to touch a nerve.
I kept my peace. “So. About those disks...”
“Like I said, smart, but he sticks his feelers into things he shouldn't.” Then he turned to me. “You're not mixed up in anything illegal, are you my boy?”
“Maybe.” I replied. I tried appealing to his morals. “But this case, it's missing persons. There's a woman out there missing her husband. If you can help...”
Kskrsec considered it for a moment. “Well,” he finally conceded “I suppose.”
69
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: Quest Of The Heaven Devestator (ISG/JRPG Parody)
« on: August 19, 2015, 07:20:49 pm »
DONGS.
Wait. No. Not dongs.
ERIN.
Wait. No. Not dongs.
ERIN.
70
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: War of the Planets : Invader thread
« on: August 19, 2015, 04:05:46 pm »
I rolled up the ramp back to my office, the stimulants still clanging in my ear. There was a notice pinned next to the door: some sort of invitation to a cult ceremony or the like. I grabbed it with a tentacle on the way past and crumpled it up without reading it.
My office was a dingy space, the nooks and crannies of the ceramic tile wall filled with the accumulated grime of centuries worth of Worker caste. Before the auto-looms put them out of business, my office was a weaver's workshop, and the limbs of an ancient weaving machine hung from one corner of the ceiling.
Rolling to my desk, I grabbed a pen and paper, the tablet for controlling the screen on the wall, and threw the cult pamphlet into the disposal chute. I put half my focus on the wall and half on the paper. I tried to organize the facts.
Missing; Skaldim, a clerk caste probably involved in some sort of smuggling operation. His wife didn't know about it, and had hired me and Vilsec to look into it. Maybe others, too. And Vil's lead was good, too. Something was up with Pryxxis Mechanics. As I sketched a web of interconnecting bubbles on the paper, I flicked through the mailing lists on the screen, did a little digging on the mechanic's shop. For the area, it was oddly clean-cut, something of an exception along the industrial strip. There was a photograph attached on the list of the workers there, all in friendly, subservient poses around a shining orange speeder. No black-carapaced security caste, that was for sure.
I checked the time in the upper left corner of the screen. It was only mid-afternoon. It would be another fourteen hours until the day was over, so I rolled into my cot and forced myself to shut my eyes and relax. There was no way I could sleep – the stimulants would see to that – but at the very least I could lower my higher brain functions, be less drained tonight. I snaked one tentacle out, snagged a pack of the cheap, low quality plas-sticks that I used in my office, and brought the starter to my mouth, where my digestive acids ignited it. I sucked the plasma gases in and quivered with relief.
This case was going to go deeper than the usual kind, I knew. This case stank of danger, that sort of intuitive feeling that gets your blades up. Unconsciously, as I mulled the details over, I felt my rear talons raising into combat stance. I could feel my brains seething as the stimulant slowly drained out. Well, maybe I could sleep. I set the alarm for twelve hours – barely a nap, but it would be better than nothing – and shut my eyes.
- - -
When I woke up, my alarm was humming at me with an intense vibration and the comedown made my eyes hurt. My mouth was glued shut, the remains of the plas-stick three quarters dissolved between my teeth. My brains ached and my ear was ringing. More by force of will than anything else, I lurched upright, swallowed the lump of gelled acids that had settled in my maw, and clumsily rolled over to my desk. I rifled through the drawers, looking for another stimpack. Already, I could feel my feelers shaking. Nothing. Damn. I grabbed at the clawfull of nutrient tokens sitting on my desk, shouldered my coat and hat on, and rolled out the door. I still had time. I could find a stimpack, settle my nerves, and then I would hit the machine shop.
The evening crowd was rolling in the other direction, for the most part. Nobody paid me more than an eye as I rolled past, the fine mist of the hydroponics bays giving way to the oppressive, corrosive air of the industrial strip. I sniffed out a street hawker, brought my tokens out. The little guy was one of those Seer caste, a lot of feelers writhing in the air, getting a taste of the corrosion.
“Hey, friend, can I get you something?” he chittered. His voice was high pitched, irritating. I felt my rear blades raising in irritation and tried to keep them down.
“Stims.” I said. “Whaddya got?”
The vendor's voice faltered, and he began whining submissively, which only hurt my head more. “I got, uh, accelerators and regulators. What kind do you...you want?”
I shook my head. I really should get regulators, I wasn't keeping it together, but the burning in my brains and eyes was getting overwhelming. “Accelerators.” I growled.
The vendor hesitated, reached into his canvas sack and brought out the product, a fine black cylinder filled with accelerators. Traditionally, this is where we would begin haggling but at just that moment, my anklet began to whine. The shop was closing – and Vilsec was probably going to hit it first. I let out a growl and flung myself down the chute, leaving the vendor staring after me and my eyes burning.
- - -
Not five minutes later I was peering at the front of the shop from the maintenance catwalks. Though the machine shop was closed, two hired thugs, security caste, were waiting in front of the place. Neither looked like the one from before. I considered rolling around to the back and trying my luck with the rear shutters when I heard Vilsec rolling up.
“Hey.” she said. “You look like carrion.”
“Thanks.” I replied. “You were right about this place. Something's up.”
“Oh yeah?” Vilsec was curious. My old partner, back when the fleet was harvesting a system called Glrxon, Vilsec was administrative caste and her carapace was the lustrous red of a highly aggressive strain, which was at total odds with her personality. Sharp wits, keen senses and sharp blades, she always had a sympathetic, even pitying attitude about me. I never found out why she chose this sort of life, but then, maybe it was simply because she was good at it.
“Staked the place out earlier today. Suspicious guard caste, black carapace and nondescript utility belts came to the back and dropped off a package in one of the bays.”
We talked as we rolled out to the back. We both produced our binoculars and I pointed out the bay in question. “I went to check it out, found a tripwire rigged to a phase disruptor at the shutter. Heard someone moving in the bay so I didn't barge right in, but something seemed real suspicious about this.”
“Well.” she said “What are we waiting for?”
We dropped from the catwalk and onto the rear bay's lot. Vil landed with considerably more grace than I did, and I had to shake myself off for a moment before the two of us snuck up to the shutter. I gestured with a feeler quizzically.
“I don't hear anything.” Vil said, and she reached out and grabbed the shutter, forcing it upwards. I crept forward, my eyes trying to adjust to the contrast of lit lot behind me and dark garage in front of me. Feeling around, I discovered the tripwire and disarmed it with ease. My time in the SiZreckSec was not entirely wasted.
The bay was dominated by workbenches and tool racks: welders, protective lenses, discarded thermal wraps for various shapes of tentacles. Vilsec found a dial and turned the lights up, and that's when the guy crouched in the corner rose up and lashed out.
I took two gouges, thankfully on the carapace, and I felt him gouge an eye out. I rolled backwards, my rear blades instantly erect, and he came at me slashing with four blade tentacles, a pipe wrench in one of his fine manipulators. Don't get me wrong, I can handle myself in a fight, but security caste, or guard caste, they don't mess around. From behind, I saw that Vil was occupied with a guy of her own, so I went into a defensive crouch and blocked the flurry of cuts this guy was laying on me. Despite the stimulant withdraw, the sheer adrenaline cocktail this guy coming up on me released made me feel good. I saw him come at me with the pipe wrench, intent on shattering my carapace, but I grabbed his feeler with one of my own and severed it with a swipe. He growled in rage and leapt onto me, which was a mistake. He was inaccurate, clumsy, relying on his natural superiority to carry him through the fight. He did sever a manipulator of mine, but he had overextended himself. Well, too bad, pal. I cracked him over the head with the pipe wrench and severed one blade after another until he was twitching on the floor with only a couple feelers left. Vil spectated with some amusement, since she had finished up long ago.
He trilled, telling me he surrendered.. Him and his buddy crept into the corner of the bay slurping up their spilled fluids and lost limbs, leaving Vil and I to search the place. The package was lying on the workbench, shiny, silver and wrapped in a sort of foil to shield it.
“What do you think?” I asked Vil.
“Information, probably. Electronics.” she said. “Let's use your office.”
I gestured at our friends resting in the corner. “What about them?”
“Eh, forget it. They're dormant. We won't get anything out of them, they're not likely to be sensible for a few hours.”
I shrugged. “All right.”
On my way out, I snagged my severed feeler and slurped it up. I could already feel it slowly starting to grow back.
- - -
In my office, Vil flung herself down at my desk while I popped the case open. It was her habit as an administrative caste to let others do the work when it wasn't necessary. This was hard-wired into us, so I didn't resent her for it. Under the foil there were several diskettes, coated in the protective foil. Floppies were our biggest storage medium, but the radiation our Fathership was exposed to meant that unless they were well shielded, we'd often lose information on them. I was expecting to find grooved disks, but my wall had a floppy drive. I sunk the first disk into the wall and an image came up.
Vil hissed in revulsion. It was an alien. The tentacles were out of proportion, the front being much larger than the back. It had only four manipulators, each ending in several fine digits for better control, but it lacked a carapace. For a moment, I thought perhaps it was composed entirely of vulnerable membrane, but I realized that it couldn't live like that – the membrane must be thick and inflexible. It seemed unreal, sinister. It reminded me a little of a parasite, but the most unnerving thing about it was the eyes. It had two dark eyes set on a head on top of the body, both front facing, both staring straight ahead with an unreal intensity. This creature, whatever it was, only focused on one thing at a time with an expression of total hatred, of battle focus and intent to kill, and I found myself backing away from the screen involuntarily.
My office was a dingy space, the nooks and crannies of the ceramic tile wall filled with the accumulated grime of centuries worth of Worker caste. Before the auto-looms put them out of business, my office was a weaver's workshop, and the limbs of an ancient weaving machine hung from one corner of the ceiling.
Rolling to my desk, I grabbed a pen and paper, the tablet for controlling the screen on the wall, and threw the cult pamphlet into the disposal chute. I put half my focus on the wall and half on the paper. I tried to organize the facts.
Missing; Skaldim, a clerk caste probably involved in some sort of smuggling operation. His wife didn't know about it, and had hired me and Vilsec to look into it. Maybe others, too. And Vil's lead was good, too. Something was up with Pryxxis Mechanics. As I sketched a web of interconnecting bubbles on the paper, I flicked through the mailing lists on the screen, did a little digging on the mechanic's shop. For the area, it was oddly clean-cut, something of an exception along the industrial strip. There was a photograph attached on the list of the workers there, all in friendly, subservient poses around a shining orange speeder. No black-carapaced security caste, that was for sure.
I checked the time in the upper left corner of the screen. It was only mid-afternoon. It would be another fourteen hours until the day was over, so I rolled into my cot and forced myself to shut my eyes and relax. There was no way I could sleep – the stimulants would see to that – but at the very least I could lower my higher brain functions, be less drained tonight. I snaked one tentacle out, snagged a pack of the cheap, low quality plas-sticks that I used in my office, and brought the starter to my mouth, where my digestive acids ignited it. I sucked the plasma gases in and quivered with relief.
This case was going to go deeper than the usual kind, I knew. This case stank of danger, that sort of intuitive feeling that gets your blades up. Unconsciously, as I mulled the details over, I felt my rear talons raising into combat stance. I could feel my brains seething as the stimulant slowly drained out. Well, maybe I could sleep. I set the alarm for twelve hours – barely a nap, but it would be better than nothing – and shut my eyes.
- - -
When I woke up, my alarm was humming at me with an intense vibration and the comedown made my eyes hurt. My mouth was glued shut, the remains of the plas-stick three quarters dissolved between my teeth. My brains ached and my ear was ringing. More by force of will than anything else, I lurched upright, swallowed the lump of gelled acids that had settled in my maw, and clumsily rolled over to my desk. I rifled through the drawers, looking for another stimpack. Already, I could feel my feelers shaking. Nothing. Damn. I grabbed at the clawfull of nutrient tokens sitting on my desk, shouldered my coat and hat on, and rolled out the door. I still had time. I could find a stimpack, settle my nerves, and then I would hit the machine shop.
The evening crowd was rolling in the other direction, for the most part. Nobody paid me more than an eye as I rolled past, the fine mist of the hydroponics bays giving way to the oppressive, corrosive air of the industrial strip. I sniffed out a street hawker, brought my tokens out. The little guy was one of those Seer caste, a lot of feelers writhing in the air, getting a taste of the corrosion.
“Hey, friend, can I get you something?” he chittered. His voice was high pitched, irritating. I felt my rear blades raising in irritation and tried to keep them down.
“Stims.” I said. “Whaddya got?”
The vendor's voice faltered, and he began whining submissively, which only hurt my head more. “I got, uh, accelerators and regulators. What kind do you...you want?”
I shook my head. I really should get regulators, I wasn't keeping it together, but the burning in my brains and eyes was getting overwhelming. “Accelerators.” I growled.
The vendor hesitated, reached into his canvas sack and brought out the product, a fine black cylinder filled with accelerators. Traditionally, this is where we would begin haggling but at just that moment, my anklet began to whine. The shop was closing – and Vilsec was probably going to hit it first. I let out a growl and flung myself down the chute, leaving the vendor staring after me and my eyes burning.
- - -
Not five minutes later I was peering at the front of the shop from the maintenance catwalks. Though the machine shop was closed, two hired thugs, security caste, were waiting in front of the place. Neither looked like the one from before. I considered rolling around to the back and trying my luck with the rear shutters when I heard Vilsec rolling up.
“Hey.” she said. “You look like carrion.”
“Thanks.” I replied. “You were right about this place. Something's up.”
“Oh yeah?” Vilsec was curious. My old partner, back when the fleet was harvesting a system called Glrxon, Vilsec was administrative caste and her carapace was the lustrous red of a highly aggressive strain, which was at total odds with her personality. Sharp wits, keen senses and sharp blades, she always had a sympathetic, even pitying attitude about me. I never found out why she chose this sort of life, but then, maybe it was simply because she was good at it.
“Staked the place out earlier today. Suspicious guard caste, black carapace and nondescript utility belts came to the back and dropped off a package in one of the bays.”
We talked as we rolled out to the back. We both produced our binoculars and I pointed out the bay in question. “I went to check it out, found a tripwire rigged to a phase disruptor at the shutter. Heard someone moving in the bay so I didn't barge right in, but something seemed real suspicious about this.”
“Well.” she said “What are we waiting for?”
We dropped from the catwalk and onto the rear bay's lot. Vil landed with considerably more grace than I did, and I had to shake myself off for a moment before the two of us snuck up to the shutter. I gestured with a feeler quizzically.
“I don't hear anything.” Vil said, and she reached out and grabbed the shutter, forcing it upwards. I crept forward, my eyes trying to adjust to the contrast of lit lot behind me and dark garage in front of me. Feeling around, I discovered the tripwire and disarmed it with ease. My time in the SiZreckSec was not entirely wasted.
The bay was dominated by workbenches and tool racks: welders, protective lenses, discarded thermal wraps for various shapes of tentacles. Vilsec found a dial and turned the lights up, and that's when the guy crouched in the corner rose up and lashed out.
I took two gouges, thankfully on the carapace, and I felt him gouge an eye out. I rolled backwards, my rear blades instantly erect, and he came at me slashing with four blade tentacles, a pipe wrench in one of his fine manipulators. Don't get me wrong, I can handle myself in a fight, but security caste, or guard caste, they don't mess around. From behind, I saw that Vil was occupied with a guy of her own, so I went into a defensive crouch and blocked the flurry of cuts this guy was laying on me. Despite the stimulant withdraw, the sheer adrenaline cocktail this guy coming up on me released made me feel good. I saw him come at me with the pipe wrench, intent on shattering my carapace, but I grabbed his feeler with one of my own and severed it with a swipe. He growled in rage and leapt onto me, which was a mistake. He was inaccurate, clumsy, relying on his natural superiority to carry him through the fight. He did sever a manipulator of mine, but he had overextended himself. Well, too bad, pal. I cracked him over the head with the pipe wrench and severed one blade after another until he was twitching on the floor with only a couple feelers left. Vil spectated with some amusement, since she had finished up long ago.
He trilled, telling me he surrendered.. Him and his buddy crept into the corner of the bay slurping up their spilled fluids and lost limbs, leaving Vil and I to search the place. The package was lying on the workbench, shiny, silver and wrapped in a sort of foil to shield it.
“What do you think?” I asked Vil.
“Information, probably. Electronics.” she said. “Let's use your office.”
I gestured at our friends resting in the corner. “What about them?”
“Eh, forget it. They're dormant. We won't get anything out of them, they're not likely to be sensible for a few hours.”
I shrugged. “All right.”
On my way out, I snagged my severed feeler and slurped it up. I could already feel it slowly starting to grow back.
- - -
In my office, Vil flung herself down at my desk while I popped the case open. It was her habit as an administrative caste to let others do the work when it wasn't necessary. This was hard-wired into us, so I didn't resent her for it. Under the foil there were several diskettes, coated in the protective foil. Floppies were our biggest storage medium, but the radiation our Fathership was exposed to meant that unless they were well shielded, we'd often lose information on them. I was expecting to find grooved disks, but my wall had a floppy drive. I sunk the first disk into the wall and an image came up.
Vil hissed in revulsion. It was an alien. The tentacles were out of proportion, the front being much larger than the back. It had only four manipulators, each ending in several fine digits for better control, but it lacked a carapace. For a moment, I thought perhaps it was composed entirely of vulnerable membrane, but I realized that it couldn't live like that – the membrane must be thick and inflexible. It seemed unreal, sinister. It reminded me a little of a parasite, but the most unnerving thing about it was the eyes. It had two dark eyes set on a head on top of the body, both front facing, both staring straight ahead with an unreal intensity. This creature, whatever it was, only focused on one thing at a time with an expression of total hatred, of battle focus and intent to kill, and I found myself backing away from the screen involuntarily.
71
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: War of the Planets : Invader thread
« on: August 18, 2015, 11:27:06 pm »snip
Those are excellent, however...
I am sorry but that bottom one is a terrible rendition of a 50s dad KiRlak.
It is clearly a hardboiled noir detective KiRlak.
When she rolled in through the hatchway to my office, I knew she was trouble. A low cut elastic utility trouser accentuated her carapace in all the right ways. Her many silver eyes rolled around in every direction, taking in my little office in the corner of the ship, lingering on the photographs. She had a pouty look, like she was perpetually disappointed with life. I could sympathize. Cancer, and a failed career in the SiZreckSec forces will do that to anyone.
"Can I help you?" I chittered. She laid a polaroid on my desk with a fine, feathery tentacle. On it, I saw the grinning maw of a well-to-do Clerk Caste sitting on a beach with the lady in front of me, their tentacles wrapped around each other affectionately. Two suns hung overhead. It looked pleasant.
"My husband." she chittered, "Is missing."
"Oh?" I asked, lurching forward and bringing my center of mass higher, bringing my attention to bear.
"Yes." she replied. "Skaldim was working late at the assemblies, or that's what he said. But he hasn't come home. And that was three days ago."'
"Have you talked with the SiZreck?" I asked, studying the polaroid with a couple of eyes while watching her with the rest.
"I did, but, you know how it is." she told me. "They said they didn't have time, that it was low priority. And, detective, I'm worried. I think Skaldim was mixed up in something. Something bad..."
72
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: War of the Planets : Invader thread
« on: August 18, 2015, 10:51:56 pm »Spoiler: KiRlak? (click to show/hide)
73
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (SG) Please Drink Responsibly.
« on: August 17, 2015, 03:44:00 pm »PUT SOME SHARP THING IN OUR HIDDEN PERSON OR SOMETHING
Welp. I think you might be a mite bit confused on that point. The power might be called “the hidden knife” but it doesn't mean you can conjure knives, it means you can hide them on your person if they already exist. And there aren't any loose knives in the trunk.
While putting the sharp things on our person. Sing "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor" over and over at the top of our lungs. People seen as cray are unnerving to normies.
Hide the car in our pocket. Run away with the car.
You don't really feel like singing, and, uh, a car is way too big to hide on your person. So mayb-
The car pulls to a halt and you hear Sunglasses and his goons kill the engine and pile out of the car. Since the engine and background noises have died away, you can hear Marv and Eddie waiting by the trunk while Sunglasses walks away.
An unknown voice speaks, male, ragged, like an old man. “Jack. You collected Sophie's child without trouble?”
Jack (Sunglasses): “Uh, pretty much. There were a couple cops with him.”
Old man: “What did you do?”
Jack: “One of em' broke my majesty, so I had to break his skull open.”
Old man: “That'll create complications.”
Jack: “Bishop, relax, DuSang will have it covered up. It'll be-”
Bishop (Old man): “DuSang is dead.”
Jack: “What? Really? Shit.”
Bishop: “Gerard and Phillip are trying to salvage his network of contacts, but it's a mess. And now the local law will be in a frenzy trying to find you.”
Jack: “Damn it. So now what?”
Bishop: “They'll try and clean up your mess, I expect. But you and I have different work to do. Get in the car. I'll explain on the way.”
Jack: “All right. One second.” Then, louder, as he shouts to Marvin and Eddie. “All right, you know what to do, right? Don't screw up.”
Bishop: “Your men know what they're doing?”
Jack: “They're a bunch of idiots, but, yeah. He's not one of the awake kinda types anyways, so it won't be a problem. One of those broken types, I reckon.”
It sounds like they get into another car. You hear an engine turning over, and another car driving off. Then Marvin speaks.
Marvin: “You ready to do this?”
Eddie: “Yeah, guess so.”
A key gets inserted in the trunk lock, turns. The trunk pops open, and you leap out clutching the jumper cables. Marvin and Eddie try and grab hold of you, but you manage to connect the clips on the end of the cable to Eddie.
“Ow! Fuck!” he yells. He drops the shovel into the snow and retaliates by indignantly punching you in the face. Then Marvin tries to hold you down while Eddie grabs the duct tape out of the trunk, but you struggle out of Marvin's grip. There's a moment of awkward fumbling where you try and inexpertly garrotte Marvin with a bungee cord but that works about as well as you'd expect it to. The two of you collapse into the snow and roll around.
“Shit, Marv, hold him still!” Eddie yells, grabbing the shovel. He swings it down and hits Marvin by accident, which lets you loose. You leap to your feet and run as hard as you can right through the snowy field, with the two stooges right behind you. The snow is about a foot and a half deep and hard going for everyone, but you have the advantage of not needing to breathe and gain distance on them pretty rapidly. A minute later, you hit the treeline and disappear into the darkness and the snow.
- - -
Moonlight is good enough to get by on, but the cold drains your energy. You don't really feel the cold so much as your energy slowly draining away. All the same, your survival instincts keep you stumbling through the woods for another three hours looking for some sort of shelter.
Until, eventually, you find an old and slightly run down farmhouse with a large oddly shaped garage adjoining it. There's just a hint of daylight on the horizon, and you can barely stay awake. The garage is a converted coach house from the looks of things, and is unlocked. It looks sun-proof. There's an elderly tractor growing rust, workbenches with unused tools, a gasoline lantern sitting on the bench. Fatigue and overwhelming sleepiness overcome you, and you curl up into a ball on the floor and fall asleep.
- - -
You wake up in a bed, under a comforter. It's much warmer. You're in someone's bedroom, long unused. There's dust sheeting on most of the furniture. A mantlepiece with a couple of antique toy cars, a dresser, and a few other solid wooden articles of furniture. The window is covered with a thick curtain. You can hear people talking downstairs.
What now? >_
Spoiler: Your inventory: (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Powers: (click to show/hide)
74
Other Games / Re: Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead - 0.C is out! Our monsters fight each other!
« on: August 16, 2015, 09:23:02 pm »
Was bicycling up the road a ways from the town I was living in. Finally found a decent source of freshwater, and also a 2 story motel right next to it. Very few zeds ( a brute, couple mundanes and toughies) but also a corrosive. Unfortunately, I didn't handle the situation well and the brute and corrosive guy cornered me. While I was killing the brute I couldn't get out of the acid and broke my legs.
Welp.
I crawled up the motel stairs and laid out my rollmat, dropped unnecessary stuff and broke apart furniture until I had the materials necessary to craft myself a splint. However, I needed at least two long strings. Making those required thread and foolishly enough the only easy thread in reach was the kind I laboriously made myself by disassembling rags. So that took quite a while and I got hungry and thirsty. Fortunately, there were a couple vending machines with a weeks worth of hydration in them. Unfortunately, there was nary a bag of potato chips to be found and man is not sustained on vitamins alone. Fortunately, there was a swamp teeming with wildlife and forageables nearby. Unfortunately, there was a swamp teeming with giant mutated aggressive wildlife nearby. I opted for crawling out there after dark so as to avoid notice. This worked well and I found several eggs and berries (can't eat vegetables, worse luck!) but, as I was crawling along in the pitch dark, apparently I accidentally crawled over a beaver lodge or something, because I startled the bejeezus out of a beaver who proceeded to claw at my face.
So there I am, both my legs broken, crawling along on my belly, pulling myself along with my arms, in a miserable bog, soaking wet at two in the morning being viciously savaged by a beaver.
I love this game.
I boiled and ate the beaver's stomach.
Welp.
I crawled up the motel stairs and laid out my rollmat, dropped unnecessary stuff and broke apart furniture until I had the materials necessary to craft myself a splint. However, I needed at least two long strings. Making those required thread and foolishly enough the only easy thread in reach was the kind I laboriously made myself by disassembling rags. So that took quite a while and I got hungry and thirsty. Fortunately, there were a couple vending machines with a weeks worth of hydration in them. Unfortunately, there was nary a bag of potato chips to be found and man is not sustained on vitamins alone. Fortunately, there was a swamp teeming with wildlife and forageables nearby. Unfortunately, there was a swamp teeming with giant mutated aggressive wildlife nearby. I opted for crawling out there after dark so as to avoid notice. This worked well and I found several eggs and berries (can't eat vegetables, worse luck!) but, as I was crawling along in the pitch dark, apparently I accidentally crawled over a beaver lodge or something, because I startled the bejeezus out of a beaver who proceeded to claw at my face.
So there I am, both my legs broken, crawling along on my belly, pulling myself along with my arms, in a miserable bog, soaking wet at two in the morning being viciously savaged by a beaver.
I love this game.
I boiled and ate the beaver's stomach.
75
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: (SG) Please Drink Responsibly.
« on: July 31, 2015, 02:52:21 pm »Take the extra edge, but don't give up control. When the time comes, execute the plan. Take this moment for a quick prayer.
“I, uh, I could use the edge. But I'll handle it myself.”
“All right, if you say so.”
That's not going to work. Texas guy won't care about his goons.
Ask our reflection if we happen to have any hidden vampire powers
“This edge, it's vampire powers, right? I mean, that's what I am now, right?”
“YES! EXACTLY!” your other half roars triumphantly. It feels a little like your head splits open, there's a blinding flash of light and you know you are capable of things you previously weren't. Of course, it does make a great deal of sense.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
From the front of the car, you hear Marv say “What the hell is he yelling about?”
Sunglasses: "I don't know. Sophie's kind are all crazy. Just ignore him."
The car turns several times, and shudders a little, like it's going down a dirt road. The background noise of the city is gone now. You take a moment to say a quick prayer that is less "Though I walk through the valley" and more "Oh please don't let me get killed", feel a little calmer, and prepare to make your escape. Any last minute adjustments to the plan?
>_