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Arson, Murder and Jaywalking.

Behold my Expository Dialogue!

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Turn 82
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META TURN:

To Deck M3! Maybe!

Goals
Find the keycard stations.

Current Soundtrack
Valhalla

Actions

MC: Go forward into the now opened drill-tunnel. Extract/fabricate new Map from helmet.

(...) Hurdling over the cooling metal, you explore the area ahead. Looks like the living area for maintenance crew members and engineers in the lower floors. Further down the hall, you can see a large door leading to what you can only assume is the engineering lab. Whatever that is. You're too lazy to go over there, so you scan the living area and fabricate a map.

Meta: Explore!

(...) Traversing the tunnel of melted metal piercing one half of the living complex, you proceed through the blue-level security door at the end and enter the engineering lab. It's in surprisingly good condition, considering the state of disrepair most of the ship is in.

"You've made it much farther than most. Your group is the last left on this derelict vessel, the last to die. But if you do manage to survive the hell that awaits you, I suggest you give in to the hive mind when the time comes. Lest you be culled like the rest.
"Who are you? Why are you talking to me?"
"Just an observer. Your friend, the one I spoke to on the main deck, he's received his first enhancement. As have a few others in your group. I'd suggest you do the same. It makes the amalgamation so much smoother."

He disappears into the shadows.

Meta: Fix the hanger.  Tweak the odds as well.

(...) Your eyes sting as the water on the surface of your retinas boils then freezes. You jam your eyes shut and swim blindly through the empty vacuum. Briefly opening your eyes, you spot a red switch on the left wall, labeled "Emergency Force Shield Reactivation". You thrash over to the switch and mash it with your bionic arm, nearly smashing the control panel it's mounted on. Immediately, the force field reactivates. Oxygen starts pumping into the room and the artificial gravity is restored. Getting back on your feet, you discover that you jammed your laser dagger straight through the control panel and into the wall.

Meta: Check the spider wreckage.

(...) It's more like a soot-covered pile of metal shavings that is unrecognizable as a former horde mecha-spiders. You retrieve a small sack from the janitor's closet and scoop a few handfuls in there. You know, just in case it comes in really handy later, like a heavily-foreshadowed plot convenience. You think they call those Chekhov's Herrings, or something like that.

RW: Get back inside the ship (somehow, maybe use my beard?) and close the hangar.

(...) You twist around in mid-vacuum, accomplishing nothing. Suddenly, you crash to the ground as the artificial gravity returns!

Status

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Player: dermonster
Name: Derek L.
Occupation: Video game Developer/designer.
Currently: Mapping out the living area.
Inventory: Explosive Collar | Jumpsuit | Splint | Bottle of Painkillers | Metal Spear | Keen Helmet | Marshall Coburn (commanding)
Wounds: None
Abilities: Code Expert | Neckbeard | NERD RAEG

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Player: Frelock
Name: Frederick Stephonavich
Occupation: Actuary (Knowing probabilities of things)
Currently: Resetting the hangar's force shield.
Inventory: Explosive Collar | Jumpsuit | Laser Dagger | Cheetah Arm
Wounds: Missing Arm | Heavy Bleeding
Abilities: Uncanny Prediction | Actuary's Lament | Tweak the Odds

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Player: monk12
Name: Monk
Occupation: Troper
Description: Characteristically wears nice hats. Top hats, pirate hats, fedoras, you name it. Hopefully still has one in his possession.
Currently: Advancing the plot.
Inventory: Moist Top Hat | Explosive Collar | Jumpsuit | Plasma Rifle | Balloon Animal
Wounds: Broken Rib
Abilities: Applied Phlebotinum | TV Tropes Will Ruin Your Life | MacGyvering | Telekinesis

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Player: HighEndNoob
Name: Kyle Hammers
Occupation: Janitor
Currently: Scooping metal shavings into his handy sack.
Inventory: Explosive Collar | Jumpsuit | Mop | Rubber Gloves | Medkit | Power Cleaner | Wheelchair | Burlap Sack
Wounds: Missing Legs
Abilities: That's The Power of Pinesol, Bitch! | Clean Freak | Custodial Might | EMT | Digitigrade Legs

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Player: _DivideByZero_
Name: John Freeman
Occupation: Drill Sergeant
Currently: Laying on the hangar floor.
Inventory: Explosive Collar | 1/2 Jumpsuit | Turban | Unicorn Band-aids | Glass Shard | Fake Ammo Belts | Caruso Shades | Cheetah Arm
Wounds: Missing Arm | Broken Nose | Fractured Leg
Abilities: Major Payne | Fullmetal Jacket | Apocalypse Now

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Name: Marshall Coburn MkII Combat Droid
Description: A giant mechanical spider made of smaller mechanical spider parts. It was fitted with an advanced AI routine and can now talk. It also has a self-powered eye-laser taken from the remains of Xenocalamus.
Inventory: None
Wounds: None
Abilities: Eye Laser

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Group Attacks
Impromptu Singalong
Spur of Conflagration to Giga Lazor

Locations

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The S.S. Periclase

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Main Deck

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Deck 2

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Maintenance Deck 3, Main Elevator

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Maintenance Deck 3, Living Quarters

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EARTH!

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Elevator Controls

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Interrogation Room 7E-365 (Deck M3): You were all shackled to chairs in here when you woke up. The door has been dropkicked off its hinges. There's circuitry on the walls, a row of monitors, and a row of 5 chairs.

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Quote from: mainiac on April 21, 2011, 01:04:13 am

Quote from: lemon10 on April 21, 2011, 12:58:44 am

Quote from: noah22223 on April 20, 2011, 08:09:06 pm

Contact your brother, Sony Tark. Buy his Power Armor Company Wife Power Core.
Then eat your famous recipe for Dollar Bill Pound Cake.
Cooked by scantily clad master chef's, of course.

You do know that  master chefs are all snooty french guys right? Not quite sure about you, but i don't want to have our cake baked by a man in a speedo.

No, second tier master chefs are all snooty french guys.  We don't need to settle for second best.  We can afford Gareth Blackstock

So you would prefer near naked black men (on a side note, really, blackstock? that's like calling a chinese person Mao Yellowleg), to near naked white men. Huh, well I suppose he could be in a speedo instead.
But I still stand by my point about snooty french chefs being better.

Quote from: noah22223 on April 21, 2011, 12:59:46 am

These are Supermodel class women who have been training since they were tall enough to cook for us!

Unforchanatley, they aren't snooty enough or french enough  to be truly good.

Nah, we have a scantily-clad Alton Brown to cook for us.

Here you go.

>Look at currently unseen fourth wall.

That calendar... obviously this building belongs to the stonemasons!

Proceed past laser grid and find the ancient stonemason treasure!

REVERSE

They'll never expect it!

Stop a car outside, ram your head through the window, pull the guy out of his car, beat the shit out of him, take his keys, drive to Canada.

Find one of the guards in the area and convince them to become my lackey.