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Sir Gonzo Gristle of the Chroméd Knights posted:When the world fell, we lost almost everything. No more cities, no more farms, no more parks or stadiums. What we have is this:    Game Info This is Road War, an second edition Apocalypse World game about a world that has descended into chaos, blood, and badass vehicular combat. Think Mad Max, only not just set in the Australian desert. Rolls will be done on Orokos and we'll use this thread for OOC chat once the game starts. I'm looking for 4-5 sexy hardasses looking to burn rubber and shoot guns. Any core, extended, or Vincent Baker Patreon playbook is totally cool with me, with one exception: The Driver. To facilitate a road war, every character will receive access to a starting car as if they were playing with The Driver playbook. When you make your character, follow your playbook and also create a vehicle as if you were playing The Driver (unless your playbook already gives you a vehicle, in which case stick with that). The game revolves around these things, so make sure they're badass and memorable! As for the moves from The Driver, these will be available as cross-playbook advancement moves as normal, but they are not available at character creation. Bios with a strong character hook and room to grow are appreciated, as are portraits of both your character and your vehicle. In addition to your character and your car, answer these questions somewhere in your app: 1. Where and when did you get your car? 2. What's the last place you visited? 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Game thread quiggy fucked around with this message at 18:31 on Aug 20, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 16:05
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extra post in case i need it for some godforsaken reason
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Aug 7, 2018 16:05
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yes, yesssss
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Aug 7, 2018 16:10
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 Triage, the Angel, and Shigusa & Mox behind the wheel of First Response Y'ever hear the one about the guy pushin' a rock up a mountain, even though he's never going to make it? Yeah, he's an idiot. Me too. Me and the twins, we've been on the road for years now. I've shown 'em every which way you can fix a man and we've seen a dozen more inventive fuckin' ways to get dead. God only knows why you'd put armored spikes on the outside of your road monster and not wear a seatbelt, but... gently caress. That was a bad one. Probably want to know a bit more about me, yeah? I ain't got some great tale of being shot down from the black or psycho weirdness or whatever the heck else is wandering around, but I can trace my line back to the great Em-Dee himself. I learned the art of angelin' from my mom, like she learned from her dad, and so on and so forth. As long as there's been the wastes, there's been a need for triage. Believe it or not, but not all of these poor fuckers deserve what they get. Just most. The kids, for instance, picked 'em up a few years back. Parents got vented by some cross-fire and no amount of synth-patches or reddener was gonna get them breathing. Coulda left 'em, still think I should've sometimes, but... well. I ain't the type for gettin' all touchy-feely, but I also ain't gonna let things end with me. One of them can pick up the slack, keep on when I go. Hell, both maybe. That'd toast some fuckin' eyebrows back at Ee-Arr. Ain't like the wastes are gonna need less help any time soon. 1. Where and when did you get your car? Funny story, that. I'd heard about a place on lockdown. They'd got themselves an outbreak of Walkin' Red. Nasty poo poo, basically your blood fuckin' explodes outta every part of ya until you're covered in blood 'n dead as it gets. Then ya get up and keep on, more or less, just infectious as poo poo and more'n a little bit weirder. It's weird poo poo, even for some of the crap I've seen, but that ain't the story. I went looking for the root of it all, cause somethin' like this sure don't pop up outta nowhere. There was this half-buried place, kinda like Ee-Arr come to think of it, and when I went digging? Oh, my oh my. I saw First Response and it was love at first sight. She's everything the wasteland ain't. A real trooper, 'n I can use the tools in back to fix up just about anything I put my mind to. Ain't nobody's cured a case of Walkin' Red before, but me? poo poo, I didn't even break a sweat. Just synthed up a little go-juice, some brain-cleaner, and loaded up some aerosol canisters with the mix. Place sorted itself out pretty quick after, though admittedly the Red was the only thing keepin' them moving. After all, they was already dead. 2. What's the last place you visited? I heard Timberland 'n his goons were going at it with Glass-Eye, so I rolled up to the Glass House and let 'em know I was open for business. They're all right fucks, don't get me wrong, but even I've gotta eat. Lotta bullet wounds, as you'd expect, but I guess that whole bit about Timberland replacing his teeth with saws ain't just a pile of poo poo. I saw what he did to Shrapnel and Cold Joe, or at least what was left of 'em. Can't fix dead, at least not without more than a little jingle leading the way. Glass-Eye ain't the type to pay that much, though, so I just narcostabbed 'em and let nature do what it does best. Didn't stick around much past gettin' paid, though. Do that too much and people start figurin' you're their angel-on-call. That ain't my gig. I go where the trouble is, sometimes, and sometimes I just run into it despite myself. I'm not some warlord's private wound-cleaner. 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Hah, that's a drat good one. There's more'n a few places that I'd swear off, but for all the gas? poo poo... well, I guess there's one. Y'know the Mushroom Forest? Giant rear end fungi, spores thicker than smoke, and some real weird poo poo haunting the dark. I'd been sharing the road with a big-rear end convoy headed west. Didn't really say where they were comin' from, but it was definitely something different. I ain't seen their like before or since. Course, it really don't matter much now. They're all dead or worse. We'd made it about half-way through the forest when the jaws slammed shut around us. Figurative jaws, I mean. Some of those drat shrooms'd buried themselves in the road and when the lead cars went over... well, poo poo. Y'ever see what mycorrhiza does to something when it cooks off? It was the biggest goddamn massacre I've ever seen. If it weren't for the grace of whatever's still watchin' us, me'n the kids woulda been so much fuckin' fertilizer like the rest. As it was, I watched the fungus grow up and around the wreckage, draggin' it back down below the earth. Real harrowin' poo poo. I don't usually get nightmares, not with what I've seen, but after this? You goddamn bet I did. The Angel posted:Name: Triage Tricky fucked around with this message at 17:56 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 16:16
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Torch the Battlebabe (WIP) They call themselves mighty. These warlords, who rule the oases in the wasteland we call the world. Who control the fuel for the engines that remain. The gasoline, the water, the bullets, and the blood. I know them for what they are. Fools. Cowards. Chaining themselves to the pinpricks in the vastness, holding their wealth tight in their fists. Afraid, always, that it will be taken from them. So they seek women like me. The road warriors. High-octane killing machines at the reins of steel warbeasts. Engines thundering in our chests as we roar down the demon roads of the end times. Death on four wheels and for hire. I'm the best of them. The last true ronin, the untamed master of disaster. The last truly free woman in the wastes. My rig, my sword, my soul, belong to no master. I threw them off long ago. I carry the cargo no one else can be trusted with. Be it flesh, jingle, or vengeance, I will see it delivered, in its entirety. I hunt the ones everyone else runs from. No matter where they hide, I will bring them in, dead or alive. They call me a mercenary. A vagabond, a sellsword, untrusted and untrustworthy. But into my hands they deliver their greatest treasures and darkest secrets because no one else can carry them. They are content to let me spill fuel for them, and to tell themselves they are better than me. Because they live in run-down palaces and fill their courts with decaying beauty and fly ragged banners. They tell themselves this, pretend to themselves they aren't weak and afraid. But they do fear me. They fear me because I have the strength to burn what I hold and use it to drive headlong into the steel storm while they choke on the ashes. quote:Torch quote:Pyre 1. Where and when did you get your car? | 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? After the Carver wrongly judged me unworthy and threw me from the back of Red One, exiled from the Bone Convoy, the Hyena Men came for me. But I was no carrion. I sent a pair to feed their laughing god, stole their bike and left their baying pack in my dust. When the bike gave out, I went to ground far from what passes for civilization, in a compound rotting beside the Demon Road, long abandoned. Or so I thought. The old man caught me unawares. He was a canny bastard, an old road warrior, the last Chief of the Highway Guard. He was bald as an egg, one-eyed, skin like worn-out leather left out in the sun too long, but Chief still had a grip like iron and could shoot the wings off a corpse fly. He could have put me in the ground. Should have. Instead he threw me in one of the old cells, fed me, spoke with me. Told me about the long dead heroes of his youth, the Guard's exploits protecting towns and convoys from bandits and warlords, back before they knew the fall was never going to end. Told me how they'd dwindled to a handful in the Broken Years, and then received the last order. The stand-by order, to shutter the station and mothball their gear until the day came, when the authorities could call them forth again. Eventually he let me out, started to teach me. How to fight, how to survive, how to read, how to work the remnants of the golden age. How to drive. I thought I was hot-poo poo behind the wheel; he showed me different, then showed me for real. Took me scavenging, in that empty corner of the world, and hunting the pale tribes that plagued it. Our trips outside were rare - the old man didn't need much, and neither did I. He gave me the run of the garage, something to keep me busy while he squatted in front of his ‘mitter and listened for a signal that never came. I saw the fleet of Interceptors and Escorts, the squadron of Destroyers and the twin War-rigs, even a true Battlewagon, that once made the Guard a power to be reckoned with, now mere hulks long stripped for parts and left to rust. That's where I found the Hunter-Killer. Last of its kind, the howling wolf to the agile fox of the Chief's Patrol-Escort. I rebuilt it, brought it back from its cold grave and into the fire of the fallen world. Four summers it took me, and another I lingered before I found the Chief dead. It was not a surprise. He was old when I met him and older still by then, with a dry cough like rattling bones. He was cold as the made-stone he was lying on, beside the ‘mitter still, the phones still on his head. Clutching a scrap of paper in his hands, a long string of numbers and letters written on it. Scrawled beneath his last words - the Guard lives. I sent him to the Lands Beyond in his patrol-escort. Filled it's wells with gasoline and wedged the accelerator down with his rifle, sent it down the road to its fiery end. Then I welded the doors of the garage shut and burned Station 38 to the ground, drove the hunter-killer out onto the asphalt and left that dream haunted place in my tracks forever. The old man wanted me to take up his badge and his task. But he was as dead as the old world, and so were the codes that chained him. They had no place in this one. No knights in shining armor, no heroes. This is the age of blood and fire. Of the road warrior. Of Torch. 2. What's the last place you visited? I had hauled a coder-medium, an honest to the dead god 'grammer, and his secret things all the way from Mainframe to Derrick, for the promise of a small fortune in gas and jingle. Their promise was poo poo. Derrick of Derrick crossed me, put a slave collar on the coder-medium and paid me poo poo, thought I would swallow the insult. His mistake. The old Derrick new better, and the young one too, before this new Derrick hung him from the tallest - gently caress it, you know what they have there. A road warrior does not abide. I ripped the coder-medium from his grasp, took my pay in blood, and blew through his gates with a dozen screaming Wildcatters in the chase. None that could keep up with the hunter-killer. I dropped the 'grammer in A-Town. Wanted me to take him back to Mainframe, but I don't do charity. Last I saw he was trying to cut a deal with the 88s or the Wardolls to get him home. Fueled the hunter-killer and got back on the road. The Wildcatters still want my scalp, but there's plenty more who will pay for my skills. And maybe I'll get lucky and find someone willing to pay me for revenge. Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at 03:30 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 17:08
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Also here's an Imgur album of Post-Apocalyptic art, including a bunch of vehicles.
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Aug 7, 2018 17:15
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Comrade Gorbash posted:Preliminary concept, probably a Battlebabe or Gunlugger. I have half an idea for a Hardholder or Chopper who operates a full-up war-rig but not set on it. hey i know you
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Aug 7, 2018 17:28
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Withdrawn. Dawgstar fucked around with this message at 14:41 on Aug 8, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 19:40
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Dawgstar posted:Workspace: Choose which of the following your workspace includes. Choose 3: weird-rear end electronica, machining tools, transmitters & receivers (With permission, naturally, I think it might be cool if this was set in the Breaker-1's trailer). Yeah I'm totally cool with this. Anyone who gets a space as part of their playbook can put it in a vehicle if they want, seems appropriate to the setting.
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Aug 7, 2018 21:17
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Liliana Korinkova, the Savvyhead, driving the Rozmazat   Pictured: The last images taken of the Rozmazat before Liliana stole it. Liliana sighs. Her electric lantern flickers, and her head pounds. All she can smell is stale air, standing water, and rotten cardboard. Sometimes, she forgets what the sun looks like while she's down here. It's dark, quiet, reminds her of home. That's not a good thing. She steps back, away from the pile of car parts she was rummaging through. It must not be here, that's what she tells herself. Just needs to walk around, clear her head, maybe go for a drive. Driving is the best thing left in Liliana's life at this point. The sound of the Rozmazat's 355 horsepower engine, the feeling in her fingers when she shifts into the next gear. It's why she loves courier work, no questions, no bullshit, just the road. The only baggage belongs to other people. the Savvyhead posted:
quote:HX 1. Where and when did you get your car? Five Months Ago Liliana checks her bag again. Tech manuals. A few weeks of jerky, water, and hardtack. Gear worth a few more. Tools. The council's words are still ringing in her ears. She listened, hands behind her back and eyes on to the floor, and when they had said their piece she told them she understood. That was a lie, a cheap lie. She couldn't believe they'd actually bought it. People were never her forte, she prefers the simplicity of machinery. Clear inputs and outputs. Like the mayor's car. A painstakingly restored pre-war sports coupe. She loved to work on it, and he even let her take it out once when she was younger. Now she's holding the keys tight in her pocket, making sure they don't jingle. She only had one shot at this. A tight smile for the guard, he unlocks the door, letting her into the garage. Liliana pushes a tool chest in front of it the moment it's closed. She's got the garage door open before anyone figures out what's happening. People shout across the canyon as she dashes back for the car. They chase her for nearly twenty miles before they run out of gas. 2. What's the last place you visited? Afphron's Crossing. It's a "farming community" nestled in a little valley up north. They have a few greenhouses, and a few outbuildings that belch smoke in very interesting colors. They pay Liliana to deliver unmarked, but fragrant, duffel bags to villages and towns across the Wasteland. She's not supposed to open them, so she doesn't. 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Spark Canyon. Home. A massive factory complex dragged into a fissure during the Apocalypse. It ended up being a blessing in disguise, allowing the workers and their families to resist the worst effects of the disaster and build a defensible home for themselves complete with water, geothermal power, and plenty of tech. Now it is one of the largest settlements in this part of the wasteland, home to nearly ten thousand people divided between "Wasters" (those born outside the Canyon) and "Citizens" (those born within, like Liliana). She figures they'd shoot her on sight at this point. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 17:22 on Sep 28, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 22:20
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nm
Sax Battler fucked around with this message at 21:21 on Aug 10, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 22:32
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The Landfall Marine posted:
Pacification and reclamation is the official objective. Carve a piece of the planet out and make it safe for everyone still under the icecaps back on Mars. Of course with all the nutters and monsters and tyrants down there it won’t be easy, but gently caress it. We’ve got the weapons, the training, and tungsten lances up in orbit ready to crush anything we can’t tear down. We can adapt and overcome. I’ve seen sunlight now and I’m never going back underground. One way or another, this is the rock I’m gonna end up dying on. Where and when did you get your walkingsuit? Couple weeks before we dropped, just after our shuttle made it to our assigned staging platform. We did training back on Mars using cargo loaders and a handful of pre-evac suits that got smuggled off Earth, but the D-99s and their sister models weren't handed out until Central put us through enough hell to weed out anyone unsuited to being in the vanguard. Truth is, I think we're still at the 'getting introduced' phase, even with the test runs and sims up in orbit. What's the last place you visited? Figured it'd be my last chance, so before we dropped I got Voralis and La Roux to volunteer for EVA duty with me. Officially we had some maintenance inspections to do on the ship before it made the return trip to Mars, but also it was just a chance for the three of us to bullshit a little, reminisce about growing up in Boreum, and take a good, long look at where we were heading. For all the mutants and psychotics we're expecting to find down there, it's peaceful enough from orbit. Plenty of it even looked like home. Reclamation can't come soon enough. We all deserve better than tunnels. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Anywhere near my ex. I'm sure Central put him somewhere in the Task Force, it's not like they can spare any of us, but if I never see him again it'll be too soon. Dulkor fucked around with this message at 17:03 on Aug 8, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 22:33
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Spc. Burns, Shannon A., the Quarantine, running Recon. Join the Army, they said. See the world, they said. Meet new people, they said. Get stuck in a glorified meat locker for God knows how long to be thawed out when it's grillin' time, they said. Okay they didn't say that last one, but I like to think it was implied. The Quarantine posted:Name: Spc. Burns, Shannon A. 1. Where and when did you get your car? The Recon Vehicle was stored safely in the stasis garage, though garage might be overstating it. It was a shed with a bunch crates that had independent stasis seals. I don't think it was part of the original blueprints for the facility. There was a larger, multi-passenger armored vehicle included, but it was gone when I found the place. Must have been Tammy's choice of ride. Can't say I blame her, even if I do think it's selfish to hog the Humvee for yourself. 2. What's the last place you visited? Pete's Bog, a lonely little roadside attraction that was probably kitsch even when it was built in, poo poo I dunno, the 70s probably. Used to be a bunch of half-buried dinosaur skeletons and a truck stop/gas station type place. Remember driving past it at least a dozen times on family road trips. I think the skeletons were made of Plaster of Paris or something, 'cause they're all melted away now. The truck stop area looks like it was pretty fortified, until it got ransacked and the former inhabitants turned into smoking skeletons. Come to think of it, the smoke probably means the attack was pretty recent. Maybe the coyotes were still in the area, but I ain't a one woman army, I ain't going out lookin' to avenge some people I didn't even know. The stockpile was emptied, but there was still some gas in the reservoir, so I topped off and headed out. 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? I would say "back into stasis" but poo poo, for all I know if I go back in, I'll wake up when a new society's sprung up, more advanced than ever. Maybe aliens will've come and colonized everything. Aliens that wouldn't just stick me in another tube and poke me with things to see what happens, hopefully. Seriously though, I had some hosed up dreams during that big sleep. More hosed up than what I've seen after I woke up. If we're limiting this to physical locations, The Fox's Henhouse. Used to be a skin bar, if the name didn't tip you off. You'd expect, the world being in the state its in, the kind of people I've seen and how they act out here, I'd be some hosed up abattoir of sexmurder but no, I think whatever force pulled the world's pants around its ankles and gave it the paddle has a thing for irony, because now it's the headquarters for a local chapter of Mormons. They don't call'emselves Mormons, but I can tell a Mormon when I see one. Alaois fucked around with this message at 20:40 on Aug 17, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 22:37
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 Lazarus, the Contaminated They said they wanted to fix me. To come up with a cure for things like me. But all they did was let me be aware of what I am. I am still dead, but I hunger for meat. When animals won't do, people will. And there's always someone others want dead. Even if I could stop...do I want to? quote:Where and when did you get your car? When I first awoke, the first sensation I felt was hunger. I listened to the man who made me talk about what great things he was doing but eventually I couldn't stand the hunger anymore, broke free, and killed and ate him. The next thing I wanted was to escape. The guard who found me had a key, and it was mine soon enough. I just drove through the walls of the place and kept driving until I needed fuel for the car. quote:What's the last place you visited? Real Diesel Ford thought that having me around to take care of people who tried to steal their fuel and their cars would be a good deterrent. But soon enough, even the leaders who brought me in couldn't stand having me around and I was told to leave. quote:Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? It took me a while to learn the name, but people refer to the place I came from Dread Pain Central. The people there are shut off from the rest of the world, doing their own experiments and making all kinds of things. Who knows what they've done since I escaped, but I know that even as I am I would not last long if I went back. quote:
 quote:Coupe Heliotrope fucked around with this message at 04:03 on Aug 13, 2018 |
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Aug 7, 2018 22:42
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There was a chopper pic here, but that was boring. This app needs a motherfuckin’ artisté F33DB4CK, The Show The Legend  The Instrument  “Heyo muthaluvas! What, you think ya gonna start a muthaluvan Road War without your Bestgurl F33DB4CK? Shame! We’ve got the wave that makes the deaders walk and the skies burn, you don’t want to go up against Ladicrazi or the Dust Reapers without our fingers doin the walkin! Now put your hands in the air while I BRING D4 P4IN!” 1. Where and when did you get your car? What, old Greenroom?  Musta been three months‘go? *muffled shouting from the rig* Ah, nearly a year’go Shane says. Saw it o’er in Da Pitts, Shane and his crew of ruffgurlz were takin a piss-stop on the route to Ladicrazi’s joint. I liked the look of it so I told them they were my ride now. They luv me. *more muffled shouting* Oh sit on your butt and spin Shane! 2. What's the last place you visited? Hmm, Dustbin? muffled shouting Oh yeah, right! Half-rear end Bay it was. El Director was having trouble keeping the workers motivated, guess they were digging like a mile out and hadn’t hit the ocean yet. Or sumthin like that. Anywells, got paid to put a smile on folks’ faces, and by Skrill we did. *muffled shouting* Oh gently caress off Shane, only four heads exploded! That’s like a new record! 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Deffo Hospytalyti. Ladicrazi’s still pizzed that I nicked Greenroom, I guess it was her best war-rig. Heard she’s been having a hard time keeping the place stocked since, which ain’t a good look for a traderhaven. *muffled shouting* Hey, if she didn’t want me to eat that food and drink that drink, she should have put it in boxes you couldn’t smash open with an ax! That ‘dead or alive’ poo poo is a total overreact on her part! F33DB4CK, the Show posted:Look: Woman, Flashy costume, enchanting face, intense eyes, graceful body PoultryGeist fucked around with this message at 01:22 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 00:55
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Typhon, the Chopper and the Crags Left to right, that's Dameame, ya boi Typhon, Dumb Hack, Ringerman, and Boultry. This is my fuckin' hog.  Oh, about me? Been riding since I was a young gently caress out with Norg Chundrea. First mounted up on the back of C.C. Daley's hog for a couple years. Then he got shot in the fuckin' face and I've had wheels since. Look, it's not all that interesting, rode with Norg Chundrea for some years, yanno? Power struggle ensued, blah blah blah, Big Dick Dremmer and Norg Chundrea had a fallin' out. Blah blah blah blah, I took off with Big Dick Dremmer, and, wouldn't you know it, that dumbshit up and died not six weeks later. Fuckers kept squabbling, and me 'n' Rukkus had it out. We were up in the foothills of the Rewound Mountains, and when we left, we were the Rewound Crags, and Rukkus was somewhere at the bottom of a cliff. That was too stupid to say after a while, so yeah we're just the Crags now. Dremmer's Dicks was a real stupid name. Never name your gang after yourself. Ego gets too big that way. But we're doing fine, mostly. At least right now, yanno. Just took a big cache of, get this, still-sealed brown liquor, off the idiots at Mowai Circle. They had more of it than they could use, and it seemed like it'd be put to better use by the Crags, yanno? gently caress, there was enough of it we could get pretty nicely torqued and still have enough of it to sell for some shiny goddamn jangle next big convoy we run across. Sick haul. Props to Gitty for that lead, she's always got a tongue for the booze. Crags ain't scared of too much, we run the gently caress over the little chuckles and we're too smart to avoid pissing off the big stonkin' holds like the 'Xon Oasis, but you know what fuckin gets the wheelyboiz goin' is the tales of the Bone Convoy. See, might as well be a ghost story to most people, the boogeyman you talk poo poo to your hog to when the wheels won't true and what you tell idiots like the Mowai they're in for if they even survive you, and...well, what me and Cato and I'm pretty sure Zi is the only other one who knows? C.C. Daley got waxed trying to negotiate with the Bone Convoy. I was there. I watched his skull shatter. I watched them flay his corpse and mount his skeleton to a post. They didn't have to tell me anything else. They know. Deep fuckers, deep fuckery. I won't deal with it. Typhon posted:I am: Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 21:42 on Aug 17, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 03:10
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Soup, the Symbiote T-Bone  On the left, Q-Bee. On the right, Eyeball. "We're ambivalent about the flesh." T-Bone is leaning against her bus' side as he looks at her scarred hands. She opens and closes them, as if fascinated by the way the muscles in them tense and relax. "It can be tempted by promises of food or sex. It can be slashed and shot and crushed. It makes us a bit uncomfortable, moving around in here." Eyeball emerges from under the hood, having just finished some repairs. He picks up the conversation where T-Bone left it, slipping into it seamlessly while the woman climbs onto the roof of the bus, to see if anyone is approaching. "But that's part of the reason we did it. It's exciting, to be here in the middle of it all. We used to perceive the fleshlings that zipped this way and that. We didn't quite see them, but we could sense them a bit; you can think of it like...imagine some rats that are crawling under a sheet. You're resting on the sheet, and you can feel them move around, and see their little forms crawling there, and you may even touch them, but you don't really see them. You don't know what they are doing, what is going on." Someone taps you on the back. It's Q-Bee, and she's smiling at you, resting one hand on your shoulder. "Getting these bodies was like getting under the sheet for us, and seeing what the rats are up to. It's been very fascinating, and we intend to experience more of what this fleshy realm has to offer. Just don't tell them about this, okay? Most of them still think that we're rats, and we'd like to keep it that way." 1. Where and when did you get your bus? And your bike? We actually bought Roach, not long after we started occupying these bodies, back when they still lived in Crow's Nest, a little settlement on a fortified hill. We were still getting used to moving them around, though, and risked stumbling off the handrails more than once. We had actually kind of ended up with a reputation as clumsy idiots. Anyway, a group of carjackers would come from time to auction off their scavenged vehicles in town. After saving up for a while , we managed to snag Roach off at a discounted price because it was basically falling apart when Honest Abe sold it to us. It was such a rusty mess that he couldn't even get the doors to open. (When we finally did open it, we found two skeletons inside, both wearing improvised armor and one of them with a scoped rifle. Sometimes we wonder what happened to them.) It took some time to fix it up, but after that we said goodbye to Crow's Nest and hello to the rest of the wasteland. We've been travelling ever since, living gig to gig. Dragonfly was a more recent acquisition. We were about to make a pit stop at Garage for supplies on our way to Iron Gate, and one particularly flashy fleshling arrived soon after that. That bike... we felt it calling to us. Have you ever seen something that beautiful? It had to be ours. We stalked the man throughout the hardhold (which is very easy when you have three bodies to do it with) and ran away with Dragonfly that very night.  We learned later that that flashy man went by Crown and has been making a name for himself as a daredevil and muscle for hire. We have not crossed paths with him yet, which is good since we doubt he would appreciate us having his bike. He didn't see us stealing it, but it sure would look suspicious if he found it in our possession. 2. What's the last place you visited? At the very end of the Demon Road (the one that does have a known end, at least) is an old beached water vehicle, longer than three trucks, that houses the community of Capsize. The sea hasn't been anywhere near since we have existed, but that hasn't stopped people from making a living selling off this thing's gas and scrapping its huge, unweildy ammo for bullets. It being the next best thing from unassailable makes it a favorite for those looking for some measure of safety. Of course, safety from threats without doesn't mean safety from threats within. While we were stocking up we heard rumors that either the Admiral has been sending off his officers on numerous missions. One rumor is it that he's grown paranoid in his old age and that he's hoping they'll get killed off before they have a chance to plug him. Another one is that he's got some sort of plan to expand his territory outside the borders of Capsize. 3. Where wouldn't you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? Spidercrag is a deep, dark canyon where ironically, there actually aren't any spiders. There are however spiderwebs made of some thick, fibrous material criss-crossing the crag. The closer you get to one of those, the more intense the howling of the maelstorm becomes. It drives some fleshlings mad, and it offers odd insights to others. Those that live not far from there joke that a new cult is born in Spidercrag every day. What's really unusual is that before we entered these bodies, we had no idea that Spidercrag existed. Something that rings so powerfully of the storm's energies would have had to be impossible to miss when from our home amongst the Spheres, as bright and evident as an unblinking sun. How did it escape our notice? The one time we got close to it here on the Wasteland our ears started to ring before we could even see the webs, and the closer we got the more we felt like our brains were goint to explode. We had to leave before we suffered more permanent damage, and even like this our T-Bone self lost her hearing for two days. We do not like not understanding that place. We like even less what little information we have about it. Nothing good can come of it. quote:Soup, the Symbionte paradoxGentleman fucked around with this message at 16:15 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 12:27
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a Hardholder goes here yes in a road war game i have a plan  thatbastardken fucked around with this message at 03:32 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 14:03
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i'm trying to figure out if the Crags would have no problem with the contaminated because he's easy to satiate, just do a murder, which we do a decent amount of anyway, and is a powerful pal OR think he's some hosed-out Bone Convoy poo poo and needs to stay the gently caress away
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Aug 8, 2018 15:07
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 Bendix the Gunlugger My name is Bendix. What? No, it doesn't mean anything. It's a name. A real name, like from before. I'm not used to people asking me why I want to ride with them. Usually they're just happy I'm part of the convoy instead of riding up alongside it. So...I'll tell you how I got my first car. I got my start running errands and scouting parts for a smith named Baxter--this was after my dad died and my mom settled down. He had me doing all kinds of things, taught me a lot of things, filled in the gaps where my folks couldn't teach me. Well, when I found a worthwhile chassis he helped me haul it out of the yard, but I had to get all the parts on my own, in my spare time. I had to find everything, and do odd jobs to get what I couldn't find. That's how I went viking. I was real proud when I put it all together and got it running for the first time. But it dawned on me, all of a sudden...what do tires, and auto glass, and manifolds and filters and all that other poo poo have in common, besides belonging on a car? Nobody's making any more of them. So I started learning more things, and keeping knowledge, and connecting people who had knowledge. Simple things, nothing luxe. How to make good bricks and lay them right. How to burn charcoal and forge tools in it. I'm even keeping seeds, but I'm not much on horticulture. What? No, it means raising plants. Well it's more than just farming. Never mind. Last place I tried to sit still for a bit was Skullkill. Yeah, I was wrapped up in all of that. Same old loving story--they had a water source, you could grow root vegetables in the soil, some fishing, enough concrete compounds to make a go of it. And the Boneyards, you know. So of course the baron just has to squeeze, and squeeze, and especially squeeze anybody just rolling through, like me, like if you waylay a traveler for his goods you don't have to answer to nobody. Well. I ain't nobody. My car got blown to poo poo and stripped, but I took a new one out of their hides, as it were. What? No, I didn't name it. It's just my car, or my loving car, if I have to put a barrel under your chin to find out why it's not where I left it. Anyway, Skullkill's nicer now, at least while they're figuring poo poo out. You can get food and parts still, if you've got something to trade. They're starved for entertainment, if that's your business. About the Boneyards, though--stay out. Pay the pickers and the mudlarks and be generous, cause you don't know what they're up against. I used to go into it all the time. I was good at it, it's a treasure trove for sure. But the rats and the ghouls and the fever dogs got bad. See, people still go in to scrounge, and it's still good, and it's smooth sailing for awhile--then one day you hear that the Boneyards ate four grown men and eleven children, and people stay away for awhile. And this happens over and over again because people haven't figured out: the Boneyards think. They're scouting you while you're scouting them. If it's just the predators getting smarter, how come they back off and it's smooth sailing for awhile? And when new people come in it figures out where they're scrounging and when, and how they go in and out, and then one day at dusk the ghouls descend and feast. I can't explain it, but I can sure as hell observe it. quote:Cool +1  My loving Car posted:Frame: Sedan (massive=2) Halloween Jack fucked around with this message at 20:32 on Aug 8, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 19:26
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Absolutely lovin' these apps so far, guys. Here's some questions for those of you who appear to be set, if you're not done yet or still thinking your character over that's totally cool, I probably won't close apps until early next week. Now then! Torch Once, you found a man who claimed to be part of the Highway Guard, and who you followed for some time. That was until he tried and failed to catch you in a slave collar and you just narrowly made it away in the Hunter-Killer. Who was he, where did you flee to, and what would you do to him if ever you meet again? Liliana Korinkova Not even a week ago, you were parked atop a hill, fixing some broken tech bullshit as the sun set when you heard the sounds of a convoy approaching from the west. With your binoculars you saw them, a convoy from Spark Canyon, far further afield than you ever knew them to travel. You knew the lead vehicle immediately, and of course knew who drove it. Who was it, and why do you think they were so far from home? LT Calderon The plan was a 4-man orbital drop to a place just east of the city recon reported is called Afphron's Crossing. What recon didn't know was that the upper atmosphere has completely changed since the world fell, and you were blown wildly off-course and away from your squad before your boots ever hit the ground. When you awoke you found yourself in the custody of a few strange individuals. Who were they, what did they want from you, and where did they take you? Typhon The Crags are some tough-rear end motherfuckers--you have to be if you're gonna survive out there on the road. Sometimes, of course, that poo poo boils over and someone gets a bad idea and tries some poo poo they shouldn't. Last time that happened was about nine months. Who was it, what idiotic bullshit did they try to pull, and what did you do about it?
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Aug 8, 2018 19:27
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quiggy posted:Liliana Korinkova "Yes, I know Roz. We'll go home soon." Liliana says in Spark (to our ears it would sound like a creole of Russian and Czech, it is the primary tongue of Citizens) When she first walked the wasteland she laughed at those who spoke to things. A lamp shade or a gun could no more carry a soul than a radroach. But in the quiet and the dark, she had come to understand. Roz had a soul of her own, and while other things would not speak to her yet, Roz always had something to say. She always fretted when her paintjob was exposed to the blazing sun, and Liliana did not blame her. She wipes the sweat from her brow, cracks her neck. For hours she had been working on this...seismological system, and made no progress. When she started, she had hoped to use it as an early warning system, so she could know when someone was driving up to her home. But at this point, she worked out of spite. No machine sho- She feels it in her fingers first. Roz feels it in her tires. "Yes, I feel it too." Liliana says. She grabs her binocs off Roz's hood, passes them over the dead forest. A swarm of headlights in silhouette against a dozen dead pines. The bright halogens home uses, clear and sharp as a knife. She curses, were they looking for her? For Roz? They couldn't be. Too many, she wasn't worth a whole semi, no matter how rare Roz was. (She often claimed to know she was the very last car of her kind, but Roz had a certain flair for the dramatic Liliana had come to expect.) Her fingers go cold when she sees the lead car. Cenek, the man she was supposed to marry and fled from, driving his own car. It's a heavier, less elegant thing than Roz. (Far less elegant, she would tell you with a certain note of pride.) Liliana curses for a solid minute, then caps her binocs. No need to let the reflection catch her. She would rather die than let him find her, and she knows Roz feels the same way. Liliana puts her toolkit back in Roz's trunk, careful not to make noise. There could only be one reason for them to be this far out - Copper. The Ancients mined the planet clean of it long ago, and the Canyon had a hunger for it. The same way a cannibal craves flesh. She knew they were almost out, they had to be raiding other settlements for it. Had to be. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 20:24 on Aug 8, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 20:19
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quiggy posted:Torch He'd gotten himself in charge of road warriors guarding a big refu convoy from Norentree to Iron Gate. Had the convoy master eating out of his hand on tales of the Guard, claiming to be working for some place called Dispatch. Even had some of the other mercs high on delusions of heroism. There's always folks ready to die for a Cause. And maybe some part of it was real, because Lorn was no coward. Almost got himself put in the dirt a half-dozen times on that run. Came back for me once when he didn't need to. He talked the talk and walked the walk. Had to have been Guard, or knew someone like the Chief. Figured he was what he seemed, even if that rubbed me the wrong way. But the turn came in the end. Lorn was running point for the Lutera. hosed our patrols so they got the jump on us at the Greenpool Restop while everyone was taking on gas. Pegged it just before they hit, realized there were too many rides in the line for fuel, that we had to be uncovered. Just enough to get my hand on my gun. Dropped the first two who came over the berm. Fought my way back towards the hunter-killer, and saw Lorn there, thought maybe we could rally. He waved me over even. Dumb loving luck I saw the sparker in his hand before he hit me with it. Didn't see the Lutera with the catcher behind me, not until it was around my neck, but I got my hand inside the loop and managed to kick the sparker loose, shivved the Lutera behind me, made Lorn go to ground with a couple wild shots. Managed to get to my machine in the chaos and roared out of there, ran down a couple people on my way out. Didn't see who. Did see Lorn in my mirror, blood on his hands, Lutera collaring refus and gutting road warriors behind him. Until the round from his rifle shattered the glass. I made it to The Pitts on fumes of fumes. Had to pull some poo poo jobs to get the fuel and metal to get back to somewhere worth being, Boneyard runs and headhunting. Had people sideye-ing me for years, the road warrior who made it out of the Restop Massacre. Haven't seen or heard of Lorn since. Not of anyone calling themselves Guard. But I keep my ear to the ground and my eyes open. If our roads cross again, only one of us is coming out of it. Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at 03:35 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 8, 2018 23:10
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Interest posted
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Aug 9, 2018 01:07
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quiggy posted:Typhon Hoo boy. Yeah, that wasn't good. We do pretty good for ourselves, usually, and this time we were following a tip and were crossing some wasteland, heading for where the Firebat Bus Line was supposed to be running through. To this day, I don't know if we were lied to, I hosed up a landmark, the Bus Line got totally whacked, or what, but we'd been traveling drat near an extra three weeks, and supplies were razor thin. Never like to do it but I had to declare hard rations, and basically everyone grumbled like gently caress, but yanno, Crags know how to live. Except Jace. After a few days, Dameame discovered Jace was skimmin' from the beans he was supposed to be handing out. Well let me tell you that was a goddamn mess and everyone was shouting and had some fuckin lip to share and well we finally got Jace tied up to figure out just what the gently caress to do. I decided to let Damame handle it, they discovered the fuckin' problem in the first place. Dameame cut his god drat tongue off and stuck it in their pocket. As far as I know Dameame's still got it. Things got quieter after that.
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Aug 9, 2018 02:39
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Liquids the Waterbearer I did not choose this responsibility, but I will bear it. The road has claimed the lives of all those around me, and I had lost my name and my sense of self; I wandered through the endless wastes, imprisoned, free again, captured again. On the last day of my capture, I escaped, but I carried all those dead with me, and they walked beside me, their footprints trailing mine so I know they are real. After countless days, I fell, and they lifted me on their shoulders, and carried me to where we had been headed all of this time, to the source. Sitting in a ravine, a gargantuan cylinder sat gushing with water, so much water it drove me mad. I tried to get away, but the dead had gathered here innumberable, and they dragged me to the entrance. For a time, I sat with my thoughts, until others arrived, and they had looked to me to get this structure out of this place, and to honor what had passed to turn the chapter on the darkest parts of our history. I must now take this structure out to the world around me, so to bring closure to the horrors around us. Where and when did you first get your car? The source guided me, the dead guided me, the newcomers guided me. Through my hands I urged their wills, building it piece by piece. I have no understanding of the finer mechancis of it all, but slowly a moveable enclosure wrapped itself around the source, and that was many many days ago. What’s the last place you visited? Hate’s Hollow, a place that is actually quite nice despite the name. The town had many dead from a plague, and they were washed in the waters, and now their loved ones ride with us. Where wouldn’t you go back to, even for all the gas in the world? The Cursed Lands; the spirits that walk the ground there are no longer worthy of worship, they are twisted into horrific shapes and walk the veil between the worlds…and they hunger for the dead that travel with us. Stats Cool: +2 Hard: +1 Hot: 0 Sharp: +1 Weird: -1 Moves Lawbringer – When someone breaks your law, roll +cool. On at 10_, choose: You let them off with a warning, reduced penalty, or reprieve. You make an exception for them and they have no blame. They must face the full penalty. On a 7-9, they must face the full penalty. On a miss, or if you are unable to enact judgement for any reason, responsibility falls to you and you must face the penalty yourself. Embargo – You can go aggro with deprivation as your weapon, inflicting d-harm (water). Step into the flow: – When you lead a group in true ceremony, roll +cool. On a 10+, choose 2, on a 7-9, choose 1: Anyone sick is healed. Anyone distraught is calmed. Anyone lost is reassured. Anyone injured is healed. Anyone bereft is comforted. The source speaks to you. On a miss, the world’s psychic maelstrom interferes. Open your brain instead. Look Man, ornate wear, strong face, watchful eyes, wiry body Gear Hunting Rifle (2-harm far loud) Oddments worth 4 barter Deep red cloak with hood, fine red undercoat with dirtied by fluffy white trim Source You have a source of abundant pure water. Choose the water’s special quality: It is sacred to the ghosts of the dead. Choose 3-5 features of the source’s atmosphere, surroundings, and culture: Icy cold water giant & invulnerable storage tanks lush vegetation birds & birdsong faith & ritual Many people have come to the source over time, and some fo them have become your chosen friends. Detail 3 of them with a name and a role. They give you insight. Babylon, my healer Splendor, my librarian Nipperkin, my weird one The source has laws that all must obey. You didn’t create these laws, but it’s your responsibility to enforce them. Choose 3-5 laws and the penalties for breaking them. Honor the ghosts of the dead – Execution Leave your grudges outside – Exile Do no violence and no intentional harm – Imprisonment Surrender your firearms – Execution Everyone drinks. Everyone Eats. No one goes without – 2 enter, 1 leaves Vehicle – the Source Frame  The idea being that this is the mechanical bits surrounding the invulnerable source, so in the event that this is somehow destroyed then the source is no longer mobile. Speed: 0 Handling: 0 Armor: 0 Massive: 5 Frame: construction/utility Strengths: Huge, easily repaired Looks: Pristine, pretty Weakness: Slow, loud Battle Options: +2 Massive
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Aug 9, 2018 03:02
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quiggy posted:LT Calderon I'm not sure exactly where I touched down at. After the drop went south the inertia was so bad I blacked out, and by the time I woke up? My D-99 was bound up on the back of some kind of scrapped together cargo hauler in the middle of a small convoy, along with some of the bigger pieces of the drop pod that survived impact. I don't think they knew I was in there, they had the guns and the welder to cut me out if they knew to look. My comms were online, and they were talking about speeding up to get back to some canyon before a bunch of 'bones' found them? I dunno. I haven't figured out references yet. Seeing the number of guns and figuring there'd just be more of those wherever they were taking me, I went to full power and popped free of the rigging they'd tied me down with. Think one of 'em drat near crapped himself when I lunged up like that, but I pushed myself clear of the truck, knocked a couple of the guards off in the process, and made tracks off the main road. Think I damaged the truck on the way off, it didn't start moving again even after I flipped the active camo on and made for some nearby foothills and a decaying interchange a dozen klicks or so up the road. Dulkor fucked around with this message at 03:41 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 9, 2018 03:28
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I finished up my initial questions (and changed the first one a bit) and am ready for the personalized ones!
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Aug 9, 2018 16:16
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Finished up my app!
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Aug 9, 2018 17:57
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More questions because holy hell this is a lot of apps Triage Real recently, after you left Glass House, you found a pair of sorry idiots bleeding by the side of the road. You've seen enough sorry idiots to be able to judge if they had it comin' or not, and lord knows these fucks had it comin'. World would be better off without 'em, y'know? Still, you helped them, and they're still alive thanks to you. What did they call themselves, and why did you waste your time when more deserving folks are in need every day? Spc. Burns Few weeks back you were out in a bar in Mainframe and a woman you had never met before offered to buy you a drink. Whether you took the drink or not, you got to talking and learned she's a treasure hunter. She had a few more drinks and let you know the location of a secret cache she's heard of. You're not an idiot, and you knew the coordinates immediately: the stasis vault where your superiors are still frozen. What did the woman call herself, and what did you do when you realized where she was trying to go? Lazarus Funny thing about killing and eating people: lots of folks don't like it, especially when they cared for your meal. Last person to hunt you down got off a single shot with their .45 Magnum but missed, giving you the chance to escape, which you did. But still, you knew them, and you knew who it was they were seeking revenge for. Who are they, and why did you eat that victim specifically? F33DB4CK Lots of folks think bein' a big drat star is easy: drugs, sex, booze, money, you name it, you got it. But they're wrong, of course, because you also gotta put up with the folks who would cage you. For a time, you were caged, held in some poo poo bandit camp and made to perform for their leader's pleasure, until one day they grew tired of you and tossed you out in the snow alone. Who was it then who held your leash, and what would you do if you ever saw that fucker again? Soup You wouldn't think it, but the Symbiote's life is a lonely one. Ain't a lot of people take kindly to what most folks would consider perversions of birth. Still, you had to tell someone your real nature at some point, consequences be damned. Who was it you told, why'd you tell 'em, and how did they react? Bendix Don't matter how hard you try to hide it, the wastes have a way of pulling secrets from you and telling everyone. Folks find out that weird dude who farms carrots and poo poo also has enough guns to arm a small militia, they start getting suspicious. Sometimes that suspicion boils over in fear and violence. Who's the last moron who tried to gently caress with you, what were they after, and what happened? Liquids When you stopped in Hate's Hollow, the townsfolk accepted your laws graciously and followed them to the letter, but there was one that your strange companion Nipperkin warned you about. "There's evil in that one," he crowed into your ear, "better to just slice its neck now and burn the stink of death off it than let it hurt the holy source." Who was this person? If you took Nipperkin's advice, what did you do to the person, and how did the rest of the townsfolk react? If you didn't take the advice, what did you do instead? quiggy fucked around with this message at 20:20 on Aug 9, 2018 |
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Aug 9, 2018 18:31
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quiggy posted:
Nipperkin often spoke with the weight of the dead upon him, I could see them gathering around and whispering to him; the whispers were often too quiet for me to make out, so I listened to them through his voice. Blasted, I think, was his name, unfortunate name at that. He stood at the entrance to the source, eager to drink, eager to poison the mind's well, as Nipperkin had told me. I aimed quickly, silently, the dead holding the gun in my hands and my arms held steady by them, and they pulled the trigger through me. He dropped down into the waters. We had to leave the town quickly after that; the dead understood, but the people of Hate's Hollow never would have. Blasted's body still floats down there somewhere in the darkness of the source.
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Aug 9, 2018 20:56
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quiggy posted:Spc. Burns Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Suarez. I think she was already half in the tank when I walked in the door, 'cause when I ended up at the bar next to her she looked at me like she'd known me for 20 years. Maybe I just reminded her of someone. Mainframe's usually got some high quality poo poo for what passes as booze these days, so I couldn't turn down an offer like that. It wasn't just findin' the facility she was celebrating, either, she must have just pawned off something good for how much she was throwin' around. But yeah, I ain't stupid. I know what the brass would tell me to do if the security of the stasis facility had been compromised by outsiders. On the other hand, I also planned to strip the place of non-essential parts myself and cash out. So, what I told her was, "When you're ready to go on your little treasure hunt to those coordinates, come find me. I want in." I figured, a treasure hunter like her knows who's who and what's what when it comes to scrappin' and pawnin'. Even if I gotta split the haul, wouldn't hurt to have the help.
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Aug 9, 2018 22:06
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quiggy posted:Bendix Alright. Near as I can tell, Smokey and his buddies were fishing and farming--mainly turnips, by the way--just decent upstanding members of the community. That changed when they worked up enough scratch to bankroll a little bang-bang. They were smart about it, bought a piece here and a piece there, always from out-of-towners. And being smart, and having boats, they took their guns across the river and took what they wanted from the Tent City people. Everybody knew they weren't fishing all that luxe out of the river at night, but nobody said poo poo, so they became a proper gang real fast. Got it? Okay. The Tent City goes all the way to the water's edge, but the folks along the river don't have much for weapons. But they're not supposed to need them, because of course that's Gator territory. When the Gators hit back, it was the first time Smokey's gang lost people. That was when they decided to hire me. After some negotiation they offered generous terms, and I tentatively accepted the job. Tentative. It means full acceptance was contingent on--it means I agreed to do it after I scouted it out. Having scouted it out, I learned two things. First, the Gators are old-school. You have a legit grievance, they pass judgment on their own. Very enlightened about that. But if you don't, an attack on one is an attack on all. Second, Smokey and his little friends weren't about the ordinary smash-and-grab. They were having fun with it, doing gruesome poo poo, women-and-kids poo poo I don't do for love nor money. So I realized I was being hired as what in history books is called a deniable asset. I explained this to Smokey, and gave him back his up-front payment, and made it clear I knew what he was about. Well he felt insulted, so he sent two little friends after me. Now this is the part I don't get: he hired me to take down a pack of Gators, by myself, but he thought a couple amateurs were going to catch me sleeping. Wishing to maintain good relations, I sent their bodies back clean enough to be buried, minus their gear by way of an aggravation tax. Smokey was a different story--fortunately, he wasn't a light sleeper like I am, so that got sorted out with a minimum of fuss. The rest went back to pulling trout out of the river and turnips out of the ground, and that had to be enough. Hey, I never said I won't kick in your door and kill you.
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Aug 9, 2018 23:50
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quiggy posted:F33DB4CK Hmmm? Oh ya mean ol' Steelcase? He and his Hardtop Boys pulled me out of a caravan I had been traveling with/giging for, said I belonged to them. Fairnuff, kept me from catching tha deadness. And that underground bunker was a decent enough place to winter, aside from tha smell. Didn't enjoy getting booted out into tha last blizzard o'tha year, but they spooked when one of my songs caused tha bunker's systems to freak out. If I run into Steelcase again, I figure its only right I finish tha song for him. Its called H4IL SS-18 (X10DID R3MIX).
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Aug 10, 2018 00:26
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quiggy posted:Soup  He goes by Bear-Rabbit and he drives with Prix, a group of 'jackers who mostly haunt the south part of the Demon Road. We rode with them for a while, and they were adamant that Bear-Rabbit brought them good luck. He was actually very shy at first, but once he warmed up to us he started telling us about his dreams, and the angels that visited him in them and sang to him. Sometimes they sang to him when he was awake too, and when they did he insisted that he had to do as they told him. He was very adamant about that. "But it's good, because they take care of me." Apparently they warn him in advance when something dangerous is coming, which is how the Prixers have avoided retaliation from 'jackers gangs bigger than them. This situation seemed like a contact between a fleshling and an entity much like me. It felt like a good opportunity to open up with someone, someone who could perhaps understand what we are and what we desire. It was a bad idea. He started screaming that we are exiled "bad angels", that we are bad luck and that we wanted to eat him. The rest of the Prix had the decency not to shoot us on sight, but they were clear that we couldn't run with them. They believed that if Bear-Rabbit thought we were bad news, we must have been. We cannot imagine revealing our true nature to someone else now. We felt...hurt by Bear-Rabbit's reaction. We do not want to repeat the experience.
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Aug 10, 2018 22:09
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quiggy posted:Triage Yeah, I get ya. You'd think with the way things are and the name and all, I'd have left them bleeding. Not going to claim to be a pacifist or nothing, far from it, but I've left a fair few bleeding out myself. Never sits right, y'know? All I can say to explain this one is, sometimes, I get a little voice goin' in the back of my head that tells me when I really shouldn't let someone go. Call it an angel's intuition, hell, call me a sentimental fool. Y'ain't wrong either way and neither is it. More'n a few times I've been helped outta a tough spot by scumbags I shoulda left bleedin', so I guess it's really true what they say. Things go and come, right? So, yeah, these punks on bikes... or, really, these shot-up punks layin' next to the flamin' wrecks that used to be bikes, were a pair of couriers. They go by Rocket and Weasel, and I figure you can sort which one is which yourself. They eat by deliverin' packages and whatnot, 'cept this time they decided it was worth makin' a run with what they had their grubby mitts on. Now, I'm no saint, but I'm not a stupid rear end in a top hat either. You gently caress with the big boys and girls, they gently caress you back. Never seems like a smart move. But, hell, I patched 'em up anyway. Mox wanted to leave 'em and head double-time to the next town over, but I'm a stubborn bastard when I get my mind to something.
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Aug 11, 2018 00:44
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quiggy posted:Lazarus Omie Wise had a brother named Monk. He tried to gather a mob against me, told them I shouldn't exist, that I was an abomination that should be put down. This isn't the first time I've heard this, and I told him to leave me alone. But he wouldn't. Omie Wise is a really dangerous person to have as an enemy, as I've discovered, and I believe Monk was used to everyone knowing that. I didn't know that. Eventually I gave into my instincts and stabbed Monk over and over, until he stopped moving. Then I ate. The people he was talking to just watched, realizing that it would be better to let me be. But of course Omie Wise learned what I did and came after me. It was easier to leave, so I did. But he's still after me. I wonder how he would taste.
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Aug 12, 2018 07:48
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Alright folks gonna close apps tomorrow, August 14. Get your apps in by then if you haven't already! If you've still got an outstanding extra question go ahead and answer that but you don't need to have that done by tomorrow; same goes if I haven't given you a question yet (which I think I've given everyone in the thread a question--if I haven't, tell me!) After all the questions are in I'll make my picks, y'all can do your Hx/highlights, and hopefully I can have a first post up by the end of the week!
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Aug 13, 2018 14:40
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Aug 13, 2018 16:10
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Aug 13, 2018 21:53
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