You are a mercenary at the apex of the mech pilot pyramid. You are a dog of the corporations, their hound against chaos. Your newest contract: defend half a planet from its revolutionary other half.
Big Metal Hounds - Mecha Mercenary Quest
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1: Entry
- Location
- Spess
You are a Lynx.
You are a cyborg. You are a pilot. You are a war machine. You are the result of a twelve-year-long project to create the next generation of mech pilots by leapfrogging cybernetics and mech technology at the same time. You were adopted from an orphanage, parents lost to a brushfire conflict on the backwater world of Volta, and brought into the LINKS Program.
You were schooled. You were trained. More than half your brain has been scooped out and replaced by techno-organic filament. Your spine teems with nanomachines. You, and a lot of other kids like you, were made into the best mech pilots in the known galaxy.
You were given the best augmentations. The best equipment. The best mechs, devised by the greatest minds focused together on pushing forward mech technology to new heights. Your education, your equipment, your life was funded by a conglomerate of the most powerful defense companies in existence. An ecosystem of investments and output rendered you the most potent killing machines in the history of conventional warfare.
You are a product.
An expensive product made for an expensive job. War is eternal, and so is your job security. You have been on active duty for ten years. Your feet have touched the dry bones of eleven worlds. Your services are always in demand; few can say they've turned the fate of whole countries by pure slaughter.
That is what it means to be a Lynx.
You could leave. You always could. You've known Lynxes who did. You don't know them anymore—their contracts severed, their augmentations burned, their faces lost in the churn of the workforce. They are now nobodies.
Better to be a Lynx than nobody.
=v=
You approach your twelfth world.
Arendita. Sixty-eight percent water, thirty-two percent land, and fifty-one percent of it owned by revolutionary forces.
The ruling planetary concern opened up mercenary contracts fairly late. Your company was contracted only recently, and now you board an expedition to the planet at a point where the problem's grown too far to be controlled.
Whole continents are under revolutionary sway. The independence forces proclaim a new government, a new constitution, new ideals in defiance of mankind's commonality. Millions march to take what they can and burn the rest to ash.
Your contract is to stop them.
You and your team ready your mechs, board them. You march into drop pods and let the guidance of the warship hurl you all down into the atmosphere. You glimpse your next deployment—black and yellow surrounded by oceans of red, shrouded in dark hurricanes—and breathe calm in the communion of your mech. Just another deployment.
The drop pod's camera tilts up just in time to watch a spear of light harpoon your warship from bow to stern. Then the fire engulfs you.
=v=
There you are, cocooned in the dark after the cameras retracted for protection against reentry. The drop pod shakes hard, as if you were gripped by the hand of God and he was trying to make you burst like a soda can. Ionization kills comms and the only sensory data left is the computer in your mind's eye scrolling estimated telemetry data downward while you plummet like a meteor.
Rewind: the ship you were on is likely totaled. A direct hit from a planetary defense battery would've shredded it inside and out. For all you know, you're falling in a rain of debris and the dead getting a reentry cremation. No way to tell—can't even feel anything pinging off the pod's hull with the way it's shaking now—but there's one thing you can focus on.
You've been suckered.
The briefing had made it clear that this was supposed to be a fast insertion at the insistence of Arendita Planetary Concern; a rapid deployment of reinforcements to bolster the flagging frontlines. A doable mission, but one made infinitely more difficult by all the planetary defense batteries.
The briefing had been illustrative—little identified dots on a holographic globe, available lines of surface-to-space fire projected out of them. The enemy had put captured industry to good use and pumped out enough batteries to turn most of the sky into a shooting gallery. The Kessler storm of what used to be orbital yards and battleships attested to that pretty clearly.
Rapid insertion had called for the fleet to pop in via FTL right at the edge of the atmosphere, offload as many troops and cargo shuttles as they could while the batteries moved to intercept, and then jump out before too many ships were swatted.
A fine plan, were you not getting killed mere minutes after arrival.
Consequences: Command and control will be in disarray. The enemy has the initiative and, in your experience, they're probably already moving. You're going to have fewer friendlies than you'd like, and you'd bet a cat the dirtside situation is going to be very different from the original briefing.
In the dark of the drop pod, you fix your mind's eye on the ETA counting down and wait.
=v=
Mesosphere turns to stratosphere. Ionization levels off, heat dies, and all that's left cloying to your pod is whistling, thickening air.
You have a brief window where you should be all clear, so you try your radio. Switching to friendly lines yields only panic, confusion, and queries that die in static. Possibility you were heard is near zero, and you're not going to be able to talk anytime soon.
Worse, you can't raise anyone else in your team. They were meant to be on the same vector you were. Either they're far off course, they've hit dirt already…or they've already bought the farm.
You need to find them.
The pod's cameras turn on again and gracefully link their sight with yours.
Blackness. An expanse of thickening grey wisps spreads below you, a great quilted blanket laden with holes, rimmed by roiling winds gathering energy. Through them, you see the world below, a land covered in dirt and soil colored like basalt and pumice, carved into undulating dunes as tall as buildings, their peaks crested with the brief sparkling flashes of reactor detonations.
Along the horizon, bearing north-east-east, are the largest thunderheads you've ever seen in your life. They are cumulonimbus titans of darkness chaining along each other's shoulders to form a wall that swallows the skies. Great veins of lightning crawl along their flanks, and max magnification lets you see small things swirling in and out of them in currents—rocks, black as obsidian, flying around in great streams.
You plunge into the clouds below.
Turbulence batters your pod. J-particle counter ticks higher and higher by the second; you're plunging into a sea of electronic jamming. Camera view turns grey and it's like looking into fog. Those times when the clouds let up, you see flaring lights. Rocket thrusters? Mechs dancing in the sky? Too distant, visibility too low for proper visual, no way to tell.
Then the worst of it lets up, visibility expands, and you witness an aerial battlecruiser soaring through the clouds.
A cliff face of metal batters its way out of the grey like a whale emerging from murky depths. Row upon row of anti-air beam turrets along its dorsal and keel flash with life, casting bolts against a swarm of mechs buzzing around it like gnats. Its entire hull is painted orange and black in tiger stripes, gaudy and pompous colors were it not for the open flaming wounds gouged upon its exterior.
Recall: Arendita Concern had been clear that their forces would be friendly blue and red.
Assessment: Chance of success against an aerial battlecruiser without backup or support is low.
Conclusion: You need to find your teammates.
The pod's sensors scream a high-priority alert just in time for twin bolts to flash by you.
A near-miss, close enough that the pod shrieks warnings about temperature spikes and exterior hull damage; part of the pod's been slagged from the heat. You turn the camera towards the source, maximize magnification, and spot your assailant emerging from the clouds.
Mech. Small, lightweight, two beam guns trained on you, burning hard your way.
Orange and black in tiger stripes.
You tell the pod to open and it obliges. The whole bottom of the pod blooms wide like a flower and you drop out just in time for the bandit to find its mark and strike the pod dead-on. The pod explodes above you. Fire, molten metal, and pressure waves patter off the energetic scintillation of your shield like rain on an umbrella.
A burst of thrust from your arms and legs twists your whole body around. In an instant, you've aligned your nose to the target. Another instant, another thought, and the rest of your thrusters hit max acceleration, sending you rocketing at your opponent.
What kind of mech do you have? How are you going to use it to wipe them out?
[] Your Etzel is a monster of a mech, big enough to pack extra-powerful shields and thrusters. You'll barrel this fucker head on, take whatever hit comes your way and wipe them out.
[] Your Beom is a creature of speed and agility, lighter-framed but all the better for it. Their shots aren't worth a damn if they can't hit you.
[] Your Cazador is a tool of precision. You outrange them, you can just zap them like a laser against a fly.
Last edited:
Character Sheet
Other Information
Firebird Zoom
Pretty Bird
- Location
- Who knows?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Your Etzel is a monster of a mech, big enough to pack extra-powerful shields and thrusters. You'll barrel this fucker head on, take whatever hit comes your way and wipe them out.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Your Cazador is a tool of precision. You outrange them, you can just zap them like a laser against a fly.
Howdy freaking do, Lelenoi? Is this the start of your first quest on SV? Quite the occasion!
[X] Your Beom is a creature of speed and agility, lighter-framed but all the better for it. Their shots aren't worth a damn if they can't hit you.
Given there are drawbacks to having less armor, but balance and agility are key. Plus, more of a thrill to operate in the thick of things I'd reckon. Sorry, btw, for the however brief three-way tie!
[X] Your Beom is a creature of speed and agility, lighter-framed but all the better for it. Their shots aren't worth a damn if they can't hit you.
Given there are drawbacks to having less armor, but balance and agility are key. Plus, more of a thrill to operate in the thick of things I'd reckon. Sorry, btw, for the however brief three-way tie!
[X] Your Etzel is a monster of a mech, big enough to pack extra-powerful shields and thrusters. You'll barrel this fucker head on, take whatever hit comes your way and wipe them out.
- Location
- Spess
Beom and Etzel neck and neck, vote'll stay open for about another 9 hours.
Yep, had one rolling in my head and I figured I should try one.
Yep, had one rolling in my head and I figured I should try one.
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Your Beom is a creature of speed and agility, lighter-framed but all the better for it. Their shots aren't worth a damn if they can't hit you.
evil Rusty let's goooooooo
evil Rusty let's goooooooo
Vote closed
Just found this, Armored Core inspired me thinks, and I am interested. Also neat, speedy boi mech
Roll 3d6
Edit: How do I do the dice?
Edit: How do I do the dice?
- Location
- Spess
After you make a post, press edit post. There should be a 'throw dice' button there.
Gotcha, will do now
2: First Blood
New
- Location
- Spess
[X] Your Beom is a creature of speed and agility, lighter-framed but all the better for it. Their shots aren't worth a damn if they can't hit you.
You've seen it so many times you've lost count. You're soaring like a rocket, a straight beeline towards them and, instead of going evasive, they take the time to readjust their aim. It makes sense from their perspective; you're on a predictable vector, they trust their skill and fire control to lead them true. If you flew like them, you'd be blown out of the sky like a clay pigeon.
You don't fly like them.
The moment their beam guns flash, you've already boosted out of the way. There's nothing but many meters of cold air between you and blazing bolts. Before they can readjust, you've boosted again and their shots pass through where you were.
Again and again they try, burning precious seconds trying to nail you while the distance shrinks. It's the gut instinct of someone who hasn't quite cottoned on to what they're seeing, hasn't reached the part of their brain that remembers the word Lynx.
Then they swing their limbs out, thrusters pointed downwards, and start climbing.
Panic response–get distance, get altitude, regain the advantage.
Predictable.
You boost, twist, and follow their vector. You're both rockets, rising on fire and contrails, and they're raining down more bolts that you dodge with ease.
The maneuvers, the sudden and sharp vector changes you're pulling, have no finesse or grace to them; you're simply hurling yourself across air with bone-crushing force. You can't feel any of that, not when you're in communion.
But they can.
Then you get the moment you've been waiting for.
The bandit gives one last shot that goes wide before their limbs go limp. Attitude changes, trajectory adjusts from straight climb to an arc, and you're looking at their back like they're splayed out at the surface of a pool. The pilot has lost control, consciousness hammered to the floor by gravity.
A weakness you don't have.
It's a quick kill. You pop your energy blade from your arm, let the solid pillar of light and heat take form, and hold it out as you make a pass.
For an instant, their shield sparkles as a curving wall coalescing where your blade makes contact, trying to push it away. Then the shield cracks.
You cut the bandit across the waist. The followup reactor detonation is just pressure wave on your shields.
Splash one.
But if you know the enemy, there's always more than one. You sweep the skies with a spin just in time for high-priority warnings to scream.
More bandits burst from the clouds, inbound on you, one at your nine o'clock and two at your three.
You boost and dodge the initial hail of energy bolts coming your way–they zoom by close enough to singe your shields and the followup rain forces you to commit to more erratic dodging.
You know this tactic: close on you like two jaws, use their beam guns to limit your movement, then close in for the kill. Textbook.
Mid-spin, you draw your beam rifle from your back. It is long, sleek, and trades rate of fire for a good solid punch.
You're not going to be suppressing the enemy with it, but you don't need to.
The loner at your nine comes in faster than the pair at three. Its limbs are out, ready to jet it out of blade range and bank around you during its pass.
You don't let it.
You snap off a shot. The long beam rams home against its shield. As the shield bursts apart in a flash of particles, as the bandit's limb thrusters roar to life to start panic dodging, you boost towards them.
One pass, one slice, splash two.
Before the reactor detonation fully disperses, you've already twisted around, brought the beam rifle to bear against where you remember the pair at three were, and fired again.
The fire and smoke evaporate, and you find your shot missed. The pair had already begun banking away in opposite directions and your shot passed between them.
You finish the pair quickly. Separated as they are, held back by the need to bank around, they're too far to help each other when you fall on one of them. Their aim is no match for your quickness; a shot from your beam rifle breaks open their shields and your followup blade strike turns the pilot to fried meat.
You kick off the dead mech, let its corpse plummet to the earth, and rocket in the opposite direction to the final bandit.
Your cameras had kept track of their turn, trying to make a run against you. You snap off a shot with the beam rifle and it stops.
Stops in mid-air, seized by true panic. Its limbs spasm in all directions, trying to burn away from you, trying to arrest its imminent fall.
By the time it's steadied itself again to climb, you've passed your blade through its midsection, through its reactor.
Splash four.
You keep your cameras wide and scanning for any more inbound bandits. Meanwhile, you're assessing where your team could be. For all that they're likely scattered after reentry, you know your team. You know what they prefer. You know what they're likely doing, where they're likely going to be. You just need to start searching.
How will you look?
[] You need information. You need the bigger picture. Search for friendly locals and make contact. Maybe they know where Rhone and the others are. (Bigger Picture, 2d6. Risky. 2-segment clock)
[] Dive and search the ground. Missy likes getting herself entangled in furballs too much. If there's any place she'd be, it's with the ground pounders. (Speed is Armor, 3d6. Risky. 2-segment clock)
[] Climb and sweep the higher altitudes. Ganges always fell back on observation when things went sideways, you'll find him somewhere up there. (Standard Sensoria, 1d6. Safe. 2-segment clock)
So I bet you're wondering what the roll was for and what all these words in the choices mean. They're mechanics! Not mine though. For this quest, I'll be using a stripped-down version of CAT SRD (v5.5), a system created by Kingfisher over on the Fiction.live website, which itself is a heavily modified version of Blades in the Dark.
For this system, you roll a pool of d6 dice. You take the single highest roll of the dice (e.g. the 6 that was rolled above) as the result. The results for a 1-3 are failure (bad things happen, take damage and deal no damage), a 4-5 net you a mixed success (success with a complication, good and bad things happen, take damage and deal damage), and a 6 gives a straightforward success (only good things happen, deal damage but take no damage). If you have more than one 6, you get a critical success (something else good happens, deal more damage, or get some other advantage).
The main stats you'll be rolling are Proficiencies and Skills. The Proficiencies in this quest are Power, Agility, Tactics, and Awareness. Accompanying them are Skills, which are specific to each character.
Since you ride the Beom, your assigned Proficiencies and Skills look like this:
Power – 1
Each number, each point, represents how many d6 you will roll. The different points between the two are caused by Skills and Proficiencies existing at a 2:1 ratio. In the majority of cases, you will be rolling your Skills, but in cases where a Skill wouldn't apply, you will be rolling the associated Proficiency instead.
Skills and Proficiencies represent approaches to a decision. For example, if you wanted to be a decoy for anti-air fire, you would roll Speed is Armor. But if you wanted to push through the anti-air fire to eliminate the AA guns as quickly as possible, you would roll using Assault Rush.
Now, on to clocks. CAT SRD uses a lot of progress clocks, a way of counting down to some effect. Every clock is divided into between 2 and 8 segments that have to be completed to achieve their effect. Completing a segment requires achieving successes on dice rolls. The number of points in a Skill determines how many segments are completed on a success.
For example, defeating these four enemy mechs was a trivial task. I set a 2 segment clock for it. Since you have a 3 in Speed is Armor, a 3d6 roll was required. The highest result was 6, a straightforward success. Since the Skill had 3 points, the clock's 2 segments were completed instantly.
Now, on to positions. Every approach you take is associated with one of four positions: Safe, Risky, Desperate, and Lethal.
A Safe position means that if you fail, you might be able to try again or avoid dire consequences.
A Risky position means that if you get mixed results or fail, complications will ensue, and you will be put in a Desperate position until you try a different approach. You will also take Stress, and you might take a Wound, but I will explain those when they become relevant.
A Desperate position means that if you get mixed results or fail, serious complications ensue and you will be reduced to a Lethal position. You will also take several Wounds. A success means you improve your position to Risky.
A Lethal position means that if you get a failure, you will get a Wound, suffer multiple consequences, or simply die. A success means you claw back to a Desperate position.
Now you should be able to read the choices listed above. They are not an accurate reflection of what Skills you would use or how long the clocks should be–most of these rolls would just be Awareness and the clocks should have more segments–but for now, I'd rather keep pressing on and demonstrate variety. The full package of mission clocks and varying approaches will open up once you've gotten your team back.
There are other mechanics to introduce, like Toughness and Stress and negative progression clocks and Gear, but I'll explain them when they come.
Special thanks to @Mechasaurian for giving the post a lookover.
You've seen it so many times you've lost count. You're soaring like a rocket, a straight beeline towards them and, instead of going evasive, they take the time to readjust their aim. It makes sense from their perspective; you're on a predictable vector, they trust their skill and fire control to lead them true. If you flew like them, you'd be blown out of the sky like a clay pigeon.
You don't fly like them.
The moment their beam guns flash, you've already boosted out of the way. There's nothing but many meters of cold air between you and blazing bolts. Before they can readjust, you've boosted again and their shots pass through where you were.
Again and again they try, burning precious seconds trying to nail you while the distance shrinks. It's the gut instinct of someone who hasn't quite cottoned on to what they're seeing, hasn't reached the part of their brain that remembers the word Lynx.
Then they swing their limbs out, thrusters pointed downwards, and start climbing.
Panic response–get distance, get altitude, regain the advantage.
Predictable.
You boost, twist, and follow their vector. You're both rockets, rising on fire and contrails, and they're raining down more bolts that you dodge with ease.
The maneuvers, the sudden and sharp vector changes you're pulling, have no finesse or grace to them; you're simply hurling yourself across air with bone-crushing force. You can't feel any of that, not when you're in communion.
But they can.
Then you get the moment you've been waiting for.
The bandit gives one last shot that goes wide before their limbs go limp. Attitude changes, trajectory adjusts from straight climb to an arc, and you're looking at their back like they're splayed out at the surface of a pool. The pilot has lost control, consciousness hammered to the floor by gravity.
A weakness you don't have.
It's a quick kill. You pop your energy blade from your arm, let the solid pillar of light and heat take form, and hold it out as you make a pass.
For an instant, their shield sparkles as a curving wall coalescing where your blade makes contact, trying to push it away. Then the shield cracks.
You cut the bandit across the waist. The followup reactor detonation is just pressure wave on your shields.
Splash one.
But if you know the enemy, there's always more than one. You sweep the skies with a spin just in time for high-priority warnings to scream.
More bandits burst from the clouds, inbound on you, one at your nine o'clock and two at your three.
You boost and dodge the initial hail of energy bolts coming your way–they zoom by close enough to singe your shields and the followup rain forces you to commit to more erratic dodging.
You know this tactic: close on you like two jaws, use their beam guns to limit your movement, then close in for the kill. Textbook.
Mid-spin, you draw your beam rifle from your back. It is long, sleek, and trades rate of fire for a good solid punch.
You're not going to be suppressing the enemy with it, but you don't need to.
The loner at your nine comes in faster than the pair at three. Its limbs are out, ready to jet it out of blade range and bank around you during its pass.
You don't let it.
You snap off a shot. The long beam rams home against its shield. As the shield bursts apart in a flash of particles, as the bandit's limb thrusters roar to life to start panic dodging, you boost towards them.
One pass, one slice, splash two.
Before the reactor detonation fully disperses, you've already twisted around, brought the beam rifle to bear against where you remember the pair at three were, and fired again.
The fire and smoke evaporate, and you find your shot missed. The pair had already begun banking away in opposite directions and your shot passed between them.
You finish the pair quickly. Separated as they are, held back by the need to bank around, they're too far to help each other when you fall on one of them. Their aim is no match for your quickness; a shot from your beam rifle breaks open their shields and your followup blade strike turns the pilot to fried meat.
You kick off the dead mech, let its corpse plummet to the earth, and rocket in the opposite direction to the final bandit.
Your cameras had kept track of their turn, trying to make a run against you. You snap off a shot with the beam rifle and it stops.
Stops in mid-air, seized by true panic. Its limbs spasm in all directions, trying to burn away from you, trying to arrest its imminent fall.
By the time it's steadied itself again to climb, you've passed your blade through its midsection, through its reactor.
Splash four.
You keep your cameras wide and scanning for any more inbound bandits. Meanwhile, you're assessing where your team could be. For all that they're likely scattered after reentry, you know your team. You know what they prefer. You know what they're likely doing, where they're likely going to be. You just need to start searching.
How will you look?
[] You need information. You need the bigger picture. Search for friendly locals and make contact. Maybe they know where Rhone and the others are. (Bigger Picture, 2d6. Risky. 2-segment clock)
[] Dive and search the ground. Missy likes getting herself entangled in furballs too much. If there's any place she'd be, it's with the ground pounders. (Speed is Armor, 3d6. Risky. 2-segment clock)
[] Climb and sweep the higher altitudes. Ganges always fell back on observation when things went sideways, you'll find him somewhere up there. (Standard Sensoria, 1d6. Safe. 2-segment clock)
So I bet you're wondering what the roll was for and what all these words in the choices mean. They're mechanics! Not mine though. For this quest, I'll be using a stripped-down version of CAT SRD (v5.5), a system created by Kingfisher over on the Fiction.live website, which itself is a heavily modified version of Blades in the Dark.
For this system, you roll a pool of d6 dice. You take the single highest roll of the dice (e.g. the 6 that was rolled above) as the result. The results for a 1-3 are failure (bad things happen, take damage and deal no damage), a 4-5 net you a mixed success (success with a complication, good and bad things happen, take damage and deal damage), and a 6 gives a straightforward success (only good things happen, deal damage but take no damage). If you have more than one 6, you get a critical success (something else good happens, deal more damage, or get some other advantage).
The main stats you'll be rolling are Proficiencies and Skills. The Proficiencies in this quest are Power, Agility, Tactics, and Awareness. Accompanying them are Skills, which are specific to each character.
Since you ride the Beom, your assigned Proficiencies and Skills look like this:
Power – 1
Assault Rush – 2
Agility – 2Speed is Armor – 3
Tactics – 1Bigger Picture – 2
Awareness – 1Standard Sensoria – 1
Each number, each point, represents how many d6 you will roll. The different points between the two are caused by Skills and Proficiencies existing at a 2:1 ratio. In the majority of cases, you will be rolling your Skills, but in cases where a Skill wouldn't apply, you will be rolling the associated Proficiency instead.
Skills and Proficiencies represent approaches to a decision. For example, if you wanted to be a decoy for anti-air fire, you would roll Speed is Armor. But if you wanted to push through the anti-air fire to eliminate the AA guns as quickly as possible, you would roll using Assault Rush.
Now, on to clocks. CAT SRD uses a lot of progress clocks, a way of counting down to some effect. Every clock is divided into between 2 and 8 segments that have to be completed to achieve their effect. Completing a segment requires achieving successes on dice rolls. The number of points in a Skill determines how many segments are completed on a success.
For example, defeating these four enemy mechs was a trivial task. I set a 2 segment clock for it. Since you have a 3 in Speed is Armor, a 3d6 roll was required. The highest result was 6, a straightforward success. Since the Skill had 3 points, the clock's 2 segments were completed instantly.
Now, on to positions. Every approach you take is associated with one of four positions: Safe, Risky, Desperate, and Lethal.
A Safe position means that if you fail, you might be able to try again or avoid dire consequences.
A Risky position means that if you get mixed results or fail, complications will ensue, and you will be put in a Desperate position until you try a different approach. You will also take Stress, and you might take a Wound, but I will explain those when they become relevant.
A Desperate position means that if you get mixed results or fail, serious complications ensue and you will be reduced to a Lethal position. You will also take several Wounds. A success means you improve your position to Risky.
A Lethal position means that if you get a failure, you will get a Wound, suffer multiple consequences, or simply die. A success means you claw back to a Desperate position.
Now you should be able to read the choices listed above. They are not an accurate reflection of what Skills you would use or how long the clocks should be–most of these rolls would just be Awareness and the clocks should have more segments–but for now, I'd rather keep pressing on and demonstrate variety. The full package of mission clocks and varying approaches will open up once you've gotten your team back.
There are other mechanics to introduce, like Toughness and Stress and negative progression clocks and Gear, but I'll explain them when they come.
Special thanks to @Mechasaurian for giving the post a lookover.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Dive and search the ground. Missy likes getting herself entangled in furballs too much. If there's any place she'd be, it's with the ground pounders. (Speed is Armor, 3d6. Risky. 2-segment clock)
[X] You need information. You need the bigger picture. Search for friendly locals and make contact. Maybe they know where Rhone and the others are. (Bigger Picture, 2d6. Risky. 2-segment clock).
Contrarian by nature.
Contrarian by nature.
