CALAMITY CONCLUSIONTime finally runs out for the descending wreck, and it slams into the surface at mach speed, pulverising itself on impact and emitting a massive kinetic shockwave that blows aside everything in a mile radius that isn't nailed down. Almost every part of the ship is utterly destroyed in the impact, which creates a significant crater and surely spells the death of anyone who was left on board - barring, of course, exceptional fortune.
Repeatedly Pray to Spacegod, Kiss ass and hope, Ect.
[1] As you sense your time running out, you close your eyes and utter a silent prayer to Space God, a deity that you just made up on the spot out of desperation. You feel your demise closing in for but a brief second as the nose of the ship touches the rocks beneath, but time seems to slow down, and in that single second, you have a revelation. Space God appears in your mind's eye. His appearance defies description, but he is both indescribably beautiful and mind-rendingly terrifying to behold. As your conscious begins to wither and fry before a sight never meant for mortal comprehension, you barely manage to process what he tells you...
He tells you to piss off. The ship, in its entirety, is vaporised by its impact and you are utterly destroyed in your makeshift coffin, with no remains to speak of.
You failed to escape the spaceship...Frank attempts to recall the way the pods work, and attempts to activate any emergency measures like parachutes or automated landing. Failing that, he desperately tries to angle the retro thrusters directly towards any high ground, pushing them away from it, while still pushing up.
[3] You frantically hammer at the controls in a desperate attempt to induce absolutely any of the varied speed reduction measures you vaguely remember being briefed on when you first began your job on the ship. Warning lights spring up on the various consoles as you key in numerous invalid and contradictory commands. Just as you're ready to give up and accept your fate, you slap a hand against an emergency release handle in your frustration, which causes the pod's door to spring open. A thin camping blanket is sucked out of the survival supplies hold beneath Bracken's seat and catches on a protruding hook just as the wind sucks it out of the pod. Improbably, it acts as a makeshift parachute, slowing your descent by a precious few metres per second. It's not enough to ensure your survival, but perhaps if Bracken can drop you on something soft, it'll at least help prevent grievous injury. In the meantime, however, you can only hold onto the man for dear life to avoid being sucked out along with the blanket.
While Frank tries to activate the emergency measures, Bracken tries to maneuver the pod into landing in a nice comfy plain.
[4] You shuffle and re-position yourself around Frank while the two of you bicker, trying to get a handle on the retro-rocket controls from behind your fellow engineer. You can barely see the view feed provided by the pod's landing cameras, but you spot something that looks like soft, pillowy vegetation on the screen from behind your pod partner's toolbelt. With your purpose decided, you yank backwards on the flight lever in order to change the pod's trajectory, sending it hurtling away from the rocks directly beneath you and into what, on closer inspection, appears to be a dense alien rainforest of some kind. Forests of any stripe don't tend to make for ideal landing spots, but it's too late to correct your course now, and all you can do is brace for impact as your vessel smacks into the canopy of trees below. The din of creaking metal and snapping branches around you is almost enough to distract you from the extreme turbulence of hundreds of small impacts, which violently shake both you and your passenger around like rocks in a blender. One stroke of fortune is the fact that the canopy slowed your descent sufficiently to prevent a lethal impact for the two of you - but only barely.
Once your pod stops bouncing and skidding around on the ground, the two of you pull yourselves out. You're scorched, bruised, sliced up and barely conscious, but - despite everything - you're alive. Your skeletons might be in a few more separate pieces than they were previously, but it's not enough to prevent you from staggering away from your crash site and collapsing next to each other in victorious exhaustion, breathing heavily and grinning like a pair of monkeys. Rescue shouldn't take more than a week, if that safety briefing you both barely recall wasn't lying...
Congratulations! You escaped the spaceship!
Thanks for playing, everyone! If you survived and you want to play again in the next ship escape with the same character, just post below saying so and I'll throw you in there. If you didn't survive, you want to play a new character, or you're a spectator who wants to join, post a character sheet below and I'll put you on either the player list or the waitlist, depending on availablity.
Author
Topic: Roll to Escape the Spaceship [Players: 4/4, Waitlist: 2/4] (Read 8896 times)