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Author Topic: Guns, Cash, and Glory: A Random-Generated Scifi Rampage [Mission II!]  (Read 52644 times)

~Neri

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Vi is more of a support.

A support that will leave several self replicating drones behind everywhere she goes.

Say goodbye to your planet.
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Hiddenleafguy

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Hey, would a robot be susceptible to face-melting gas?
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~Neri

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Depends on the type of gas.

What specifically does it do?
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Hiddenleafguy

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Well highly poisonous, it melts flesh, fuseing flesh (or, with prolonged exposure, other things) to objects, or other objects, and under certain circumstances, it creates "gasers". (my character.)
Primarily fatal due to inhalation, causing melting of lungs.
It also works as a painkiller.
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Ruludos

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I know there's a sizable group of players already, but I'm grinning like an idiot and looking forward to the chance to play this crazy, stupid game.

Spoiler: Character Application (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: July 29, 2015, 05:24:06 pm by Ruludos »
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~Neri

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Well highly poisonous, it melts flesh, fuseing flesh (or, with prolonged exposure, other things) to objects, or other objects, and under certain circumstances, it creates "gasers". (my character.)
Primarily fatal due to inhalation, causing melting of lungs.
It also works as a painkiller.
So it's likely a severely necrotic virus or bacteria. No other way that the Gasers would plausibly be made. Unlikely that it would affect a machine. Colonies forming in the joints might be an annoyance, but nothing that can't be fixed by application of heat.
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IronyOwl

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Name: Vissilik
Gender: The narrative should clearly refer to me as "A genius beyond his time!"
Description (optional):

Couldn't quite be bothered to add legs and/or ambulation tentacles, but I think the basic idea comes across.
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Quote from: Radio Controlled (Discord)
A hand, a hand, my kingdom for a hot hand!
The kitchenette mold free, you move on to the pantry. it's nasty in there. The bacon is grazing on the lettuce. The ham is having an illicit affair with the prime rib, The potatoes see all, know all. A rat in boxer shorts smoking a foul smelling cigar is banging on a cabinet shouting about rent money.

Hiddenleafguy

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Basically, my characters suit had a healing function, and due to this being the future, there was a drug that enhanced body's ability to adapt to new environments, and it adapted to the yellow cloud.
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~Neri

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The suit basically sounds like it preserved neurological functions and not much else. The cloud is likely a highly necrotic bacterium or virus. With an inability to survive for long outside of a host to prevent spread to nontargeted populations. The affects you have described are the kind of effects a necrotic pathogen would have.
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Yoink

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((Oh. Oh my gosh. It's finally happening! Waitlist me, please. Hopefully the players before me will have been chewed through by the time I get home in a bit over a month. :) ))
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Booze is Life for Yoink

To deprive him of Drink is to steal divinity from God.
you need to reconsider your life
If there's any cause worth dying for, it's memes.

DoctorMcTaalik

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Name: Ogdo
Gender: Let's keep it simple. Call it a "he".
Description (optional): A large cephalopod. It mostly consists of a giant, squishy head, which pulses and hums. Its rubbery skin changes hues to reflect the creature's emotional state, and sports a spattering of lazily drifting eyes. Beneath a mass of dexterous octopus arms, which some might call tentacles, it has a rather scary beak, behind which is an even scarier throat lined with sharp, scary teeth, and a not-so-scary tongue. Though it lacks vocal cords, its disproportionately large brain emits a mild psychic field, allowing it to "talk" to those around it.
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Digital Hellhound

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My totally fair and just choosing method has produced a player list of Evil Roy of Harry Baldman! Speaks of Toaster! Crit of NAV! Vissilik of IronyOwl! And London Tanner of Ruludos! The rest of you have been shuffled onto the waiting list in no particular order. Without anything more, LET THE GAMES BEGIN.

***

THE DAWN OF JUSTICE



'That's the spirit!' General Tullion booms as soon as you've made your willingness to join the side of Justice clear. 'I knew you had the look of HEROES about you! Now, let's see who you are...'

With this pronouncement, there's a distorted electronical fanfare and several large, gilded banners tumble down from the ceiling. One has an impressive array of different species and shapes looking up to a light in various heroic poses, with the words 'BE THE HERO YOU NEVER WANTED TO BE' written beneath. Another seems to be the emblem of the JUSTICE CORPS, a shield within a galaxy with the letters 'JS' within. A third just appears to contain various catchy words ('Patriotism! Order! Freedom! Faith! The People! New! Tradition! Justice! Redemption! Peace!', it begins, and continues for a dozen lines in golden letters).

General Tullion brings up a flickering holoscreen with a wave of his hand. 'Alright! The galactic database tells me you are Evil Roy!' he says, pointing at the very one. The heavy-set man frowns. 'Is... is that your first name, or a title, or...? Well, no matter. You look like just the kind of, uh... thing. We need.'

He scratches his head and moves onto the next file, smiling at the saurian sight on the screen. 'Ah, Speaks, is it? Welcome aboard, lizard-man. Or- or is that offensive? I can never tell with you people.'

The computer-screen face of Crit pops up next. 'Well, Crit, this looks excellent! Whoever you are, strange robot man! You won't regret this choice! Unlike the people who've tried to decline...'

The file that follows seems to actually have quite a bit of text. Tullion, curious, begins reading aloud: 'Vissilik, also known as a 'genius beyond his tim'- wait, did you write this yourself? That's... just the kind of proactive, go-getter attitude we expect here at the Justice Corps! Excellent!'

He then moves onto the last. 'London Tanner, eh?' Tullion muses. 'A farmer! That's good, honest work. I'm sure you're glad we beamed you out of there.'

Satisfied, Tullion closes the holoscreen. 'Well, I won't waste any more of your time! I'm sure you're all itching to see some action. A HERO's work is never done. Come to the Teleporter Deck when you're ready to start your very first mission. Now, I've transferred three Fabricator Tokens to your accounts to get you all started. If you have any questions, Lux, our ship AI, is always happy to answer. The poor thing's programmed that way. In any case! The Fabricator is to your right, over there, the Simulation Deck is down beyond this door, as is the Transport Hall, if you feel you'll want some kind of vehicle. Oh, and the Bridge is off-limits. If I find out any of you've been trying to get in, it's out of the airlock with you. Oh, and the Replacement Tanks are to your left, but you don't need to worry 'bout that - we didn't bother to clone you. Dismissed! And all that.'

Tullion promptly leaves through the same doors he came from. Silence falls upon the hall and the banners flutter a little sadly in artificial wind. You take in the vast, cavernous room; to the right, a massive machine juts out, taking up the entire height of the wall. It's covered in strange pipes, whirring, spinning antennas, discs and receivers, a vast crystal prism of dancing lasers, pumps, glass tubes, monitors, counters, gauges, and a device that goes 'ping' - it is surely the most impressive machine you have ever seen, and proud golden lettering christens it 'THE FABRICATOR'. A small station with screens and buttons sits at the bottom of it all.

To the left appear to be lines of man-sized tanks full of bubbling liquid. Great power lines and tubes fall from them and into the floor, but nothing actually seems to be on at the moment.

---
Spoiler: Evil Roy (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Speaks (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Crit (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Vissilik (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: London Tanner (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: July 30, 2015, 03:39:12 pm by Digital Hellhound »
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Russia is simply taking an anti-Fascist stance against European Nazi products, they should be applauded. ¡No parmesan!

Fniff

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'BE THE HERO YOU NEVER WANTED TO BE'
This is going to be good.

Toaster

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Speaks gave a gesture that could best be describe as a shrug.  "While not technically correct, as our ancestry shares nothing in common with your Earth lizards and reptiles, I can appreciate the visual similarity.  Less open-minded members of our society may take offense, but the descriptor's familiarity makes it expedient.  It is of no consequence or offense to me.  Now, Lux is it?  What can we get at this Fabricator establishment?"
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

Harry Baldman

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Evil Roy takes a moment to chat with Lux about something, presumably about the Fabricator, but perhaps just as well about the replacement tanks or maybe even something altogether more inane.

Evil Roy then immediately slides, or perhaps floats to the Fabricator and with the sound of what may be grinding stone or weeping clouds inserts a token in an appropriate-looking spot, and observing what exactly might happen. The top priority, as it always tends to be in life, is to obtain some form of deathtube.
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