Bay 12 Games Forum

Bertrude, calmly relaxed behind the bullet proof glass of her serving screen, requests that the customer return when they have correctly and fully completed a Form Request Form.

Loving the writing in this! But... Did I get skipped over in the waiting list? :-)

Gosh yes, sorry about that. I nearly gave you a bonus chivalry point for the affrontery, but then I didn't. I did fix the waiting list though. And thank you

Monday: 3.49pm
 

Calm down, and study all of the cats. All of them.

You try to calm down, but you just can't get the bastard boss out of your mind! You sit at your workstation, looking through pictures of all the cats of the world, every single one photographed by the GenCorp Perpetual Motion Photocatography Project. And every single one has the face of the boss! Even though you punched his face in, you hate his guts! You churn inside! You enter a state of rage [1]!

You slam the mouse through the screen of your monitor and hulk out of the lab door, stalking through the corridors, averting your eyes from the gazes of all the bosses you pass. Finally you come across one whose eyes you can't avoid. They are the eyes of burning madness! They are the eyes of a dwarven warrior! They are the eyes of a man dual-wielding a single chain-katana!
 
Morale Boost! State of rage!
Fail! Didn't save your word doc before smashing the screen in!
Fail! Didn't lock the keyboard before leaving your desk!
 
Task Assigned! Continue your research!
 
Failure Rating: 14.
Morale: 0.
 

Wake up, and ridiculously, kill more people! THIS ENTIRE ELVEN RETREAT SHALL FALL!

You manage to struggle out of the fallen masonry, and wipe enough dust from your face to be able to see. You think only of slaying yet more elves before some bizarre accident should befall you. You can't think why, but images of flowing lava and multitudinous kittens starkly cross your barely functioning mind, and with them you see your doom. Surely they will send archers! Hordes of archers, and you have no armour!

You start to run: you must kill the entire elven retreat before you are struck down by evil fate! But alas! You run in every direction, but in every direction the elven cowards flee [3]. Dual-wielding your mighty chain-katana, you can no longer run fast enough to catch up! Eventually, you come face to face with an unsuspecting prey, his eyes already averted from your steely gaze.

But then he looks up! And you see the doom of a hundred thousand cats! You see the eyes of hate! You see the fist of rage!

FIST OF RAGE VERSUS CHAIN-KATANA!

The CHAIN-KATANA buzzes into action! The FIST OF RAGE gets in first! It is a crushing blow [6]! Powder Woodcutter barely dodges back far enough, and is moderately stunned. He attempts to swing the CHAIN-KATANA at Daniel's face [3]: the elf ducks and easily dodges! Taking a step back and then a short run up, Daniel somersaults along the corridor and flies headlong towards the dwarven fiend, his fearsome FIST OF RAGE before him [6]. He connects with Powder Woodcutter's face! He stuns him! He knocks him down! The chainsaw, still whirring viciously, falls with Powder Woodcutter, smashing into the wall and bouncing away. It slices his left leg off at the knee!

The raging Daniel sprints off the second he sees gasmasked SWAT troopers round the far corner of the corridor. The rage is still strong within him. Every single gasmask is in the form of the boss's face!
 
Morale Boost! Powder Woodcutter: Chain-katana!!
Fail! Defeated by an elf!
Morale Drop! Defeated by an elf!
Morale Drop! Painful cut on your left leg!
 
Failure Rating: 42.
Morale: 9.
 
Powder Woodcutter has gone berserk.
 
WARNING! You have reached MEGAFAIL! You are NOT IMPORTANT enough to be fired by BRUCE HALFORD HIMSELF although he MAY perform a citizen’s arrest if he gets the chance and you can’t fight back. He’s not stupid! He has flamethrowers and everything! Your Morale is NEGATIVELY affected by your impending unemployment.
 

Catching the falling monitor, Danny groans. "Urgh... Yeah, you better run!..." He feels, and sounds, rather the worse-for-wear.
Staggering to his feet, he clutches at his injuries and makes his way back towards wherever he spoke to the receptionist, to not only ask what his task was, but to explain to her how he was just attacked by a violently malfunctioning giant robot, which beat him mercilessly with its metallic fists as he valiantly struggled to save his workstation from being consumed by the thing for robotic, electronic sustenance.
Because that explanation is so much more believable (and less embarassing) than getting his ass kicked by a (not too bad-looking) receptionist...

Fleeing to the boss's secretary after Tracy bounces the monitor off your forehead for a second time, you somehow manage to find her - probably by following the signs to her office, although frankly even that is miraculous in your condition. However, midway through your explanation, that a giant robot has been beating you mercilessly, she interrupts [2].

"Nonsense! Mr Halford isn't activating Process B until tomorrow! Giant robots! Whatever next! Get back to your cubicle at once young man, and get back to typing... er... whatever inconsequential guff it was you were meant to be typing..." She checks her notepad. "Ah. Yes. Minute that godawful teleconference. I need to circulate it by tomorrow morning, so get to it please. And make sure it's perfect: I couldn't bear to hear anything more about the ghastly matter."
 
Morale Drop! She thinks you're talking nonsense!
Fail! Really really should have got started by now!

Task Assigned! Minute a tediously long teleconference!
 
Failure Rating: 24.
Morale: -17.
 
Warning! Your morale level indicates that you are close to depression. This will affect your ability to work.
 

What's this? Is he some sort of superhuman being sent here from outer space to enslave us all? Dear lord I think I just stepped into the middle of an alien invasion! Tracy is clearly past the point of thinking, well, clearly. With a scream she drops the monitor on his face and flees, trying to find a security person. Upon arriving in reception she sees a security guard standing around. Babbling she gets the point across that there is some strange manalienthing trying to kill her.

Screaming like a hyena, you drop the monitor on Danny's face once more: and once more it bounces off [2], his adamantine forehead impervious to all assault! As he staggers off in one direction, you leap away and run in the other, babbling nonsensically to yourself and whoever else may hear about aliens and enslavement.

You reach main reception, and nearly run blindly into a security guard: you tell him about the strange manalienthing that wants to kill you! He's not convinced [3].
 
Morale Drop! Unnatural opponent!
Fail! Haven’t got that report typed up yet!
Success! Assisting reception!
 
Task Assigned! Type up the report!
Task Assigned! Assist reception!
 
Failure Rating: 48.
Morale: -12.
 
Warning! Your morale level indicates that you are close to depression. This will affect your ability to work.
 
Warning! Warning! You have reached ULTRAFAIL! At this level of incompetence, all GenCorp staff are encouraged to slay you mercilessly and will receive tax-free cash and Morale bonuses for doing so! You will not be fired!
 

Free-run towards reception prepared for a fight as his Security Guard senses were tingling that there was someone trying to kill some innocent soul who probably has some evidence of whatever this unknown assailant did to this unknown victim.

You arrive in reception [4] just as a raving lunatic who you recognise as possibly being the former receptionist runs in, arms flailing and words incomprehensibly spurting from her all but toothless mouth. Alienmanthing? What? You subdue her for her own good with a hefty baton smack to the face: she falls to the floor.

At least she's stopped wailing. You notice there is a corpse lying behind the reception desk, and you're about to walk round the desk to inspect it and take action when suddenly the
 
BOSSCHECK!

SHIT THAT'S NOT THE BOSS! THAT'S BRUCE HALFORD HIMSELF WHO WALKS IN! And his band of Submission Drones!

Raising his left arm, he flips open a wrist mounted display module and points its automatic facial recognition unit at you.

"Ah. Klag, apparently. You seem to have murdered one of my employees; I seem to have stopped you from murdering another in the nick of time." He turns to his Submission Drones. "Process B: Activate!"

He turns and calmly leaves as his Submission Drones whir into action.

BOSSCHECK FAILED

Success! Guarding reception!
Morale Boost! Subdued someone for their own good!
Fail! Bruce Halford himself thinks you're a murderer!
Morale Drop! You didn't get to defend yourself!

Task Assigned! Guard reception a bit!
 
Failure Rating: 10.
Morale: 0.
 

Satisfied with a job well not-done Ryan heads into his office and begins to update his blog: otherpeoplescrap.org where he shares all the embarassing secret he is told during "private" meetings.

Feeling quite pleased with yourself, you sit down to update your blog, otherpeoplescrap.org. But a shock awaits you on the home page [1]!

EXCLUSIVE! RYAN LOVECHILD'S PARENTS ADMIT: WE ADOPTED HIM BECAUSE HIS REAL PARENTS SUCKED SO BAD. NOW WE ARE ASHAMED OF HIS SECRET-SPILLING GOSSIP. CLICK LINK FOR MORE.

Is it a hacker? Is it your brother? Or is it the TRUTH?!

Morale Drop! Could it be true?!?!?!

Task Assigned Attend licensed janitor accreditation morning tomorrow!
 
Failure Rating: 6.
Morale: -9.

Do we all go at once, or how?

Edit:

Ask her customer to wait five minutes: she just has to file the paperwork relating to the previous customer. She will then brush her hair while they wait.

Gezgez, bewildered, isn't sure what to do. He decides he should also flee into the forest, away from the orc that has so scared the brave and mighty Ryn.

Cast Fireball at the orc and flee in the same direction as Ryn.

Find some paint, and then go to an inn in a workers' quarter of the city. Taking great care not to be seen, graffiti the wall, writing "Down with the King! Up with the People!".

Then find some place where I can observe the results, so that I can see if there are any obviously sympathetic people who might listen to my message. If there are, approach them and strike up a political discussion.

Second Turn!
England; the Dark Ages; by a bridge; shortly after half four in the afternoon.

 

Begin shouting Incomprehensibly and gesturing behind him with great urgency.

Sir Conchobar the Gruesome begins shouting incomprehensibly, waving his arms in a flurry of ugliness and gesturing behind the Black Knight with considerable urgency [5]. It is not immediately clear what this achieves; the Black Knight is stoic beneath his steel helmet. Perhaps he is flustered, perhaps he is worried: one cannot tell.
 

Challenge the black knight ... to a DRINKING contest

[Init vs Sir Feyman=6 vs 5]
 
“Noble Knight!” announces Sir Meynard the Sure, “I and my companions must pass: we are on the God-granted quest to find the Holy Grail.”
 
No reply comes from within the Black Knight’s steely mask.
 
“Being Wise and Chivalrous beyond the ken of normal men, I abhor violence: I thusly challenge you… to a DRINKING contest.”
 
Still no sound breaks the Black Knight’s impenetrable wall of silence.
 
“With… Ale!”
 
“Oh, all right then,” suddenly replies the Black Knight, “Here, come and take a seat in my tent. I do quite fancy a pint.”
 
Sir Meynard and the Black Knight cross the bridge to the fearsome stranger’s tent beside it, and the Black Knight shows Sir Meynard the row of barrels beside his meager belongings. They are filled with Ale. Black Ale. Strong and tasty Black Ale, thick like the very coal of Yorkshire itself. At the Black Knight’s beckoning, Sir Meynard sits. The Black Knight does likewise, and, opening a barrel, passes it silently over the table to Sir Meynard. He opens another, and, at Sir Meynard’s signal, the two Knights begin to drink.

...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...
 
Around an hour later, the bored companions of Sir Meynard mill about on the other side of the bridge. They watch the sixth empty barrel fly forcefully out of the Black Knight’s tent and collectively groan a little; Maddy the Falcon Handler shifts from foot to foot a little impatiently at his master’s excess. Suddenly, shortly after the sound of an eighth barrel being opened wafts across the chasm, the victor emerges, triumphant!
 
The Black Knight strolls unsteadily back to his place in front of the bridge; he carries, with, some might say, newly acquired superhuman strength, the defeated Meynard before him. He places the knight carefully upon the ground, and Maddy quickly runs over to check his master [6]. The Black Knight seems once more to ignore the gesticulating and incomprehensible Sir Conchobar: perhaps these are some of the rumoured less traditional knights, questing with a favoured idiot, an intellectually deficient who by the Grace of God is permitted to ramble nonsensically for the good of their souls.
 
State Entered! Incredibly Drunk!
 

Challenge the black knight to his game of choice - swordplay.

[Init vs Sir Meynard=5 vs 6]
 
Enraged but somehow not entirely surprised at his companion’s defeat, Sir Feyman the Judging steps forward towards the questers’ imposing foe, and draws his sword with an audible slicing of the air about him.
 
“En garde! I, Sir Feyman the Judging, challenge you for possession of this bridge!”
 

Sir Keardwall shall stride foward, his craggy features glaring at this miscreant, and support his brave companion Sir Feynard in his challenge.
Possibly giving a few entirely unhelpful tips and tricks regarding swordplay, since well, he knows no-one is as good with a blade as he!

At this Sir Keardwall the Stony strides purposefully forward, glaring at the Black Knight like some form of righteous rock [4]. He leans forwards to speak into Sir Feyman's ear.

"Sir; I have fought in many battles, and defeated many knights of many colours in many duels: heed what I have to say. You would do well to avoid his blade, good knight."

[Init Sir Feyman vs Black Knight = 5 vs 5]
 
Not quite sure what to make of his comrade's intervention, Sir Feyman turns back to the task at hand, and seconds later Sir Feyman and the Black Knight charge towards each other as one. At the last moment the Black Knight looks briefly to his rear, seemingly preoccupied; then he glances to the fore, and see the sternly featured Sir Keardwall: and then his heavy blade sweeps through the air as Sir Feyman leaps unknightly-like above him. Upon landing on the other side behind the Black Knight, Sir Feyman realises his left arm has been sliced clean off! Blood spurts out in a crimson jet! He looks behind him to see where it has fallen; and as he does so the Black Knight’s cleanly sliced body falls in two [6+1 distraction bonus] before the assembled and dumbstruck spectators!
 
Aghast, Maine walks over to where the severed arm lies in a pool of blood and picks it up.
 
Wound Acquired! Left Arm Sliced Off!
Title Gained! Slayer of the Black Knight!
Chivalry Increased! +2
 
As the four members of the Knights’ retinues pick up the incredibly drunk Sir Meynard, the questing Knights quest forth, Sir Keardwall  muttering something to himself about I tried to bloody tell him... idiot.

...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...

Shortly before dusk, as the shadows lengthen about them on the edge of the great forest of Celidon, they come to a village. They must seek shelter for the night, but they have a little time before the darkness draws in.