Bay 12 Games Forum

((All right, bugger subtlety.))
Move towards the bridge, surveying the surroundings for anybody else. Be ready to dodge. Keep an eye on the gargoyle.
"The storm has come, and I am following."

Improvisation

((As in jury-rigging stuff, or as in theatrical improvisation?))

Look for anything useful.

[4] After some digging through a few containers, you open one that seems to be full of medical supplies. Most of it is basic first-aid stuff - bandages and such - but there is a small case of combat stim in the corner. There is enough for five normal doses. You remember taking some back in Africa - the heady rush of power, the feeling of euphoria mixed with a hyperactive desire for action - brilliant tactical decisions flashing through your mind - wounds scabbing over in seconds... The heavy, suffocating numbness afterwards. You pocket the case.

Shock them with my hands to try reviving them. Try everybody.

You spend a lot of time opening glass coffins, trying to return life to the dead. The flesh is pasty under your hands, and your fingers leave black prints on the purple as you send hundreds of volts through the corpses. They do not move. There is no blood in their veins, and stasfluid can't support normal organ activity without outside motivation - it preserves and nourishes, but it also depresses the nervous system to the point where it barely works. The blood is stored in tanks, and ought to be poured back and heated quite precisely. Besides, you aren't sure if their hearts are even functional anymore - the hydrostatic shock could have torn them apart. You try another and another, but it doesn't seem to be working.

- Ah, do what you want, Will. I'll be looking for crash reasons.
Keep looking for things I've already described. Ah, and any electronics that seen to work.

You pocket the undies, just in case. Don't want any potty accidents, do we?
[4] You find a barrel grenade which can be fired from the Izhmash, carefully wrapped away in a case of socks. It is marked with a green stripe, and bears the letter C on one side. Somebody probably thought to smuggle it in, but you doubt they'll be needing it now.
There are wires on the walls, going down from the ceiling to go through and disappear in hermetically-sealed holes. You go to check: yes, they connect to the pods on the outside. [1] Maybe they deliver electrocandy to stop the robots from rising against their fleshy overlords? You bite your nails, fighting a sudden but acute case of the retardeds.

Well, lets see what they want me to do. And I wonder what kit they have extra...
Edgar goes looking for somesort of job, then for the armory.

Despite having an identity crisis about your name, you ask the comm system in general if there is any work for an engineer. After a few seconds, you are answered by Al-Radi.
"It's becoming increasingly clear to me that we need a wall of some sort - another colonist just got savaged by the wildlife. I don't know about the others, but I don't fancy checking around for chitterlings every time I decide to leave the ship. However, we have no materials except wood in the forest and containers, and no vehicles, either. If you could just manage something with what we have..?"
There is a pause, then he adds: "Feel free to ask the quartermaster for whatever you need for the task, if you take it up."

Markus shrugged. "Alright. Let's get home alive first, eh?"

Continue to the camp.

[environment:5] You get back without accident. Quite a crowd has gathered to admire your catch, as well as a few biologists with samplers.
"All right. I dunno about you, but I'm going to go have a drink. You going?"

IMPORTANT NOTE: Pick one: Agility (general athletics and acrobatics), Dexterity (how good you are with your hands), Intelligence (science and operating with known data), Common Sense (making assumptions and extrapolation), Strength (punching people in the face), Toughness (taking it like a person of whatever gender you are and carrying weights). Then pick two profession bonuses, like marksmanship, engineering, or whatever. Don't make those too broad.

My character will be named Dren Stormchaser, or Brother Stormchaser. I'll reveal the rest of the backstory in in-character sermons, if that's all right.

Hold up.
Move forwards and check for signs of life.

Striding in with your rifle at the ready, you sweep the area for hostiles. As far as you can see, there is nothing moving. The whole first floor is filled with massive (as tall as a man) shipping containers, which are painted burgundy and bolted to the floor. On the containers' sides are corporate logos: dozens of them. In the center of the room, there is an elevator tube, and there are stairs to the side of it.

- Woo-hoo, that was a good blast!

Go after Sean, SMG ready for action. Also, look for something catchy, shiny, smelly, stabby or shooty to loot it.

You follow Sean, and decide to stop for a spot of looting after seeing the containers. Rubbing your hands together, you approach one and rip it open with a single powerful tug. Inside, the container is full of crates. You take one out and open it.
[2]Hmm... Underpants? You check the label, and it says "Underwear, thermal, unisex. Made in Switzerland." Oh well. You appear to have collected some underpants, so you are well on your way to PROFIT.

Go in and check the pods

You approach the most well-lit pod and look in.
Gods. The colonist is still in under the stasis coffin's glass, and she's dead. Very definitely dead. Her eyes appear to have popped, and her skin has turned a livid purple-black colour, like a huge bruise: the capillaries must have burst under all those extra gees. Her breathing apparatus is still covering the lower half of her face, but the lights on the life-support system panel are off, and the tubes which were supposed to supply stasis fluid are leaking. You shut the door quickly, and go check the next pod.
This time it's a man. Also dead.
Next pod. Dead.
Your head swims a bit as you realize that you are surrounded by rows upon rows of corpses in metal eggs, squished as their own weight became many times normal. Weight equals minus g by m. High-school. Meat buns. You suppress hysterics.

In case of misunderstandings.

Question: can we write backstory for the characters, or are they Exactly What it Says on the Tin?
If we can, then I'll take the Cleric of the Storm God.