Fallout: Boneyards (Chariots of Steel playtest / New Vegas Sequel Quest!)

Created
Status
Complete
Watchers
109
Recent readers
0
Threadmarks
35
War...

War never changes.

In the 20th century, war had become total. Entire nations fought entire nations. Cities were ground to rubble underneath the treads of tanks and a millions tons of bombs. This set the stage for the grim, twilight struggle of the 21st century - a deadlock that was broken with the release of the greatest weapon of total war ever devised.

Atomic fire scorched the world. And for a time, total war was a distant memory, replaced with the warring of tribe on tribe, raider on raider, town on town.

Now, in the 23rd century, total war has come again. The New California Republic, confident in their power and wealth and democracy, stands against Caesar's Legion. Born of the enslavement and conquest of eighty six tribes, the Legion sought to take from the Republic their most prized new possession: New Vegas.

They succeeded.

And now, at last, the great Bear of the West has awakened to the realization that the desultory border war they had fought was, in truth, a war of extermination. Caesar's Legion, supported by the looted technology of the Mojave and the logistics of an enslaved Vegas, have come to California.

Now, after a year of brutal fighting, a stalemate exists in a tenuous balance. Grinding attrition has claimed the lives of a million men, women, and children. The war has spread, from the distant Rockies to the southern reaches of Mexico. Now, a new fulcrum point has formed. A century before, the Boneyards was where the fate of humanity was decided as a lone wanderer matched wits and words with a man who would be God.

Here...it will be decided again, but not with words. It will be decided with tanks and guns and fire. For, in the end...

War never changes.

---

Welcome to Fallout: Boneyards! This is a CHARIOTS OF STEEL playtest that I'm running for @open_sketch! And this time, the quest is co-authored with Erika! Yay! It is set in the same timeline as Fallout: Necropolis!

Why?

Because German is a silly language!

Here are the rules

1) Write ins are allowed
2) Democratic voting
3) Plan voting is required! This is mostly because plan votes make the counting so much easier!

This quest is going to be medium length - the Battle of the Boneyards involves a slightly less lethal, slightly longer term game than STRELOV.

CONTENT WARNING: This quest is going to have violence, the death of the innocent, and generally...horrible 20th century total war stuff in it!

CONTENT WARNING 2: ALSO, THERE IS SEX! Sex scenes will be spoilered!
Last edited:
Threadmarks Informational
Reader mode
CHARACTER SHEET
  • Informational
    • NAME: Xiuyuan "Alderesh" Yang
    AGE: 41 | GENDER: Male
    CURRENT STATUS: No injuries, 0 RPM, 7 STRESS

    HARD​
    KEEN​
    CALM​
    DARING​
    -2​
    +3​
    +4​
    -2​

    MOVES
    Breadwinner
    Fen Yang: She's having a hard time at work/school and are unsure about their future​
    (*)(*)( )​
    [-1 Stress Per Routine!]​
    Bronwyn Yang (aka Browny): They're struggling with long-form Warflu and need expensive meds to kick it. Fortunately, you've managed to send some.​
    (*) (*) ( )​
    [-1 Stress Per Routine!]​

    Get It Done: Each Routine, hold 3. Spend that hold to get a partial hit on any check before rolling.
    Old Reliable: The tank gains +2 Integrity, +4 Safety and +3 Reliability for ground vehicles, and removes Unreliable and gives +1 to Attack for a firearm.
    Domestic Bliss: When you're at 0 stress, take +1 ongoing to all rolls outside of air combat. You're not in air combat. Haha. Holy shit. Really, Erika?

    GEAR
    Cortex Comrade, a miniaturized personal computer which uses a persistent heads-up display to help workers perform their tasks… or soldiers target the enemy.
    A bandoleer with three smoke grenades.
    A super stimpack, purchased with your own money. Just in case.

    MASTERIES
    Getaway Mastery: Passive (Every move you take adds +1 Handling in ground vehicles.)
    Can't Miss: Reduce your Speed penalty to shooting by -3. When your vehicle attacks at Knife range, +1 AP. At Melee range, +2 AP.​

    VICES
    Cannabis
    Reading
    Music

    TONK
    A9 "Wander Home", M7 Oliver
    Speed: 4 | Torque: +2 | Handling: 23
    Armor: 4/2/1 | Integrity: 25 | Safety: 3
    Reliability: 0 | Fuel Use: 7 | Stress: 1

    SPECIALS
    Festooned with Hatches: Every position on the tank counts as having a Hatch, and any member of the crew can leave from any side or fire personal weapons in any direction.​
    Gun Stabilizer: The addition of a gun stabilizer reduces the movement penalty from the vehicle's own Speed by 2.​
    Linked: All crew positions have an intercom.​


    TANK CREW
    Yang: Commander | Type: Closed | Visibility: +1 | Escape: +2
    Drives-Fast: Driver | Type: Closed | Visibility: -1 | Escape: +2
    Trudy: Main Gunner | Type: Closed | Visibility: -2 | Escape: +1 |
    1 F. Cannon (AP/HE) | Hits: 1/6 | Range: Long/Extreme | Damage: 24/3 | AP: 4/0 | Specials (Both): Reload 1, Artillery, Heavy 4, Awkward -5 vs Planes. HE Shells gain burst​
    Arcs: Fore, Rear, Left, Right​
    1 WMG | Hits: 6 | Range: Long | Damage: 2 | AP: 1 | Special: Rapid Fire (always on rapid fire because there's no penalty while in a vehicle), Braced, Heavy 2​
    Arcs: Fore, Rear, Left, Right​
    Dora: Bow Gunner | Type: Closed | Visibility: -2 | Escape: +1 | Engine Access!
    1 LMG | Hits: 4 | Range: Long | Damage: 2 | AP: 1 | | Special: Repaid Fire (see above), Braced​
    Arcs: Fore​
    Mask: Loader | Type: Closed | Visibility: -2 | Escape: +1 | Assists Cannon Shooting

    TANK PLATOON

    H2 "Mighty Mighty Man", M2 Dumont - Armed with an MG
    Sergeant Baalaji: Commander/Gunner
    Private Iron Moth: Driver

    P9 "Lil' Mo Action", M2 Dumont - Armed with a Cannon
    Corporal Aubrey Angel: Commander/Gunner
    Private Caitlyn Smith: Driver

    INFANTRY SUPPORT

    Sergeant Christina Morales: Squad Leader

    Corporal Arnold Brick: Second in Command

    Lance Corporal Betty "Doc" Tracy: Medic

    Private Gordon Xavier: LAW Man

    Private Nosejob: LAW Man

    Private Samantha Yeager: LAW Man

    Private Michael Burnside: Sniper

    Private Thomas Barker: Rifleman

    Private William Barker: Rifleman

    Private Gwendolyn Price: Rifleman

    Lance Corporal Zǐhán Quin: Rifleman
     
    Last edited:
  • Informational
    • 0.0: Playbook
  • Threadmarks
    • DragonCobolt

    DragonCobolt

    Pronouns
    He/Him
    You are a tank squadron commander in the New California Republic's 3rd Army, 4th Battalion, 1st Company.

    It has been one year since the Legion invaded from the Mojave Wasteland. While their push in 2282 stalled out in the Necropolis, they did not collapse and they did not retreat. Conquered territory was fortified and the NCR offense - Operation Unity - in late September ended in fire, blood and the ousting of President Michael Crawford in the Shi-Harbor Scandal.

    In the wake of these losses and almost a year of grinding attritional warfare, pushing inch by inch into the Boneyards, the NCR has reorganized: The seizure of the assets of those implicated in the Shi-Harbor Scandal has solidified state control over the perpetually restive Brahman Barons and the new factories in Vault City and San Francisco are producing more weapons and vehicles than the NCR has in its entire history.

    For nearly three months, the inner Boneyards have been fortified. Three hundred thousand civilians have worked tirelessly to prepare the scene, and a million more have been poured into uniforms and pushed to the line. You are a young Lieutenant, fresh out of officer school. Following an exhaustive three-week training course, plus one week familiarization with armoured vehicles, you have received your first orders.

    In just under six hours, the largest tank battle that the North American continent has     ever seen in both its post and pre-war history will begin, and you will be at the tip of the spear.

    ---
    Remember: Make it a plan vote

    [ ] Miner: You were born in Broken Hills, the old uranium mining town, where generations have gone below the earth in the old Dunwich mines to pull precious metals and, recently, fissionable materials from the Earth to feed the growing cities and factories of the NCR. You're simple folk who keep to themselves mostly, and it's dangerous and hard work, but it's okay. Something dark and old stirs below the earth, and it loves you.

    [ ] Psychic: You grew up in the Boneyards, with a family that still followed the Reformed Church of The Unity - while the Master committed terrible crimes and was right to be stopped, his vision of a world unbound by race and class and his ideals of transhuman advancement and the creation of a better future through science should not be entirely abandoned. People think you're creepy. You can tell, you're psychic.

    [ ] Farmer: You grew up north of Modoc, in the Slag-Caves. Like most of your brothers and sisters, you came out at night to do what your people have done for decades now: trying your best to coax something out of the poisoned soil. Every year it gets easier, they say, but it's never been easy, even after the GECK did it's work. But with the war in the south calling up all hands, you alone were able to shake off your people's agoraphobia, strap on your tinted goggles, and head out. It helps you're also the best shot in your generation.

    [ ] Soldier: You have been in this army since before the Legion. Like most of the 'flash and thunder' troops - Lawnmowers, Power Armored Troopers, and Tankers - you weren't even sent to the fucking Mojave. For almost two years, you grumbled to your friends that if they had just stopped using you to overawe bandits and brigands, you could fucking show the Legion. You wish you'd kept your mouth shut.

    [ ] Believer: The NCR works to build the same system that destroyed the world in the first place. As a member of the Followers of Apocalypse, you have worked tirelessly to try and guide humanity to a better future, keeping alive old knowledge and new wisdom alike. But what most people don't know is that most Followers can't decide on what that better future is or how to get there. But you know. You're sure of it.

    [ ] Nomad: Though the NCR pretends you don't exist, you do - tribal communities were the baseline radiation that humanity grew back from, and they continue to exist. Marginalized and deprived of their lands, your people are nomads now, in great caravans powered by old fusion batteries and some hideously dangerous fission-splitter engines. You do your best to keep the old ways of your culture intact, and feel a faint sense that this has all happened before.

    [ ] Student: You were born a child of privilege, and the money afforded you the best education in the post-Apocalypse. Even scored you an education deferment, at least until the Necropolis went bad and they decided you were better off as an officer after all. You were this close to defending your thesis! It was so much easier ever since your roomie had left. As you sit in your tank, you think back...what had his name been? Mr. Fantastic? What a fucking douchebag...

    [ ] Survivor: The Glow. Your parents were researchers assigned to keeping ZAX company, and you grew up torn between their rad-sealed bunker in the Glow Facility and the salvage-town that has grown up around the facility. That town was mostly humans - ghouls would have been better for it, but they charge a premium. All of you worked day in, day out on trying to bring what you can out of the seemingly endless tunnels of the WestTech Research Facility. But you did get damn good at chess - and when the war came, having ZAX on your contacts helped a lot.

    [ ] Scion: Your parents were instrumental in cinching the Shi-Harbor thing. That's a bit of a secret, don't tell anyone. But when they heard that the President, the current VP and a quarter of the Brahman Barons were planning to steal the Shih-Huang-Ti right out of San Francisco harbor and use it to flee to the Republic of China, depriving the NCR of their last-resort nuclear missile capacity, an entire nuclear reactor, and the function of the Emperor-class post-sentient supercomputer….well...they couldn't stand by. And neither can you.

    [ ] Worker: You were born in China and came to these shores on one of the grainships, having heard that America was a land of treasure and danger both - appealing things to a teenage dipshit with gambling debts. You were lucky to meet your future spouse, find a stable job, and settle down. That was twenty years ago. Now your adoptive homeland is in peril. You bade them a goodbye and when the recruiter learned your job involved operating heavy machinery and directing a lot of underlings, you were in.

    ---
    Are you a buoy or a grill?

    [ ] Buoy
    [ ] Grill
    [ ] Yes!
    [ ] Nope~

    ---
    What is your name?

    [ ] Write In
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan Child of the Unity
    -[X] Psychic: You grew up in the Boneyards, with a family that still followed the Reformed Church of The Unity - while the Master committed terrible crimes and was right to be stopped, his vision of a world unbound by race and class and his ideals of transhuman advancement and the creation of a better future through science should not be entirely abandoned. People think you're creepy. You can tell, you're psychic.
    -[X] Nope~
    -[X] Reef
     
    [X]Plan: The volunteer
    -[X] Student: You were born a child of privilege, and the money afforded you the best education in the post-Apocalypse. Even scored you an education deferment, at least until the Necropolis went bad and they decided you were better off as an officer after all. You were this close to defending your thesis! It was so much easier ever since your roomie had left. As you sit in your tank, you think back...what had his name been? Mr. Fantastic? What a fucking douchebag...
    -[X] Buoy
    -[X] Adan H Jonell
     
    Trying to tonk without me, nyeh!? Not if I have anything to say about it!

    [X]Plan The Nomad Creed
    -[X]Nomad: Though the NCR pretends you don't exist, you do - tribal communities were the baseline radiation that humanity grew back from, and they continue to exist. Marginalized and deprived of their lands, your people are nomads now, in great caravans powered by old fusion batteries and some hideously dangerous fission-splitter engines. You do your best to keep the old ways of your culture intact, and feel a faint sense that this has all happened before.
    -[X]Nope~
    -[X]Rust

    This tank is my tank. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Mostly because it is also my house, and the rest of my tribe is driving it with me.
     
    [x] Plan I Didn't Leave China For This Shit
    [x] Worker: You were born in China and came to these shores on one of the grainships, having heard that America was a land of treasure and danger both - appealing things to a teenage dipshit with gambling debts. You were lucky to meet your future spouse, find a stable job, and settle down. That was twenty years ago. Now your adoptive homeland is in peril. You bade them a goodbye and when the recruiter learned your job involved operating heavy machinery and directing a lot of underlings, you were in.
    [x] Bouy
    [x] Sheng-Ji Yang
     
    [x] Plan I Didn't Leave China For This Shit
     
    0.1: Get a Load of these Jamokes
  • Threadmarks
    • The truck rattles as it drives you past chain link fences. You have a good view, being situated near the back. You can just lean past the brown painted canvas that keeps the sun from your head and peer out.

    The people in the fences look sunken eyed and hollow cheeked and they barely even register the truck as it goes by.

    Most of them still have sheet metal shoulder pads and canvas wrapped helmet frames that try and ape the old world bike helmets you remember seeing in all the propaganda newholos. They're unarmed, and most of them are sitting dejectedly, waiting for time to run out. The only sign of life you see comes near the end, when the truck turns and hits the road that leads up to the motor pool set up behind the thickest level of the fortifications that ring the Salient.

    "You can't put us in there!" a prisoner is saying, struggling as a pair of NCR soldiers use their bayonets to prod in the general direction of ten, twenty men. The men have the same shoulder-pads, the same stupid red-brown tunics, but as you get closer you see that through the tears that they're over ratty, tattered checkered suits. The man who's speaking still has a fedora, clutched tight in one of his hands. "You can't put us in with those jamokes, they'll skin us alive, you dig-"

    "No, you dig," one of the NCR soldiers says with a braying Reno accent and the rest of the soldiers start laughing uproariously - and the checkered suited men are forced at bayonet point into the prison camp.

    The truck comes to a stop and you check your head up in your Cortex Comrade.

    11:32 HOURS blinks in pale red in the corner of your vision.

    Twenty eight minutes. You check your pack, make sure you have everything, then swing out of the truck with the other new arrivals. An NCR officer - a ghoul - is reading off a chart, her voice a raspy ruin of a human tongue. "Lieutenant Bakers? Your tank's at A1. Lieutenant Ferguson? Tank's at A5. " Each time she reads off a name, an officer peels off from the gaggle and starts towards their tank. You're all replacements.

    Attrition rate on the front for tank commanders is…

    You try not to think about that as the naming drags on and on.

    The officer pauses. "Lieutenant Xiuyuan Yang?" she asks, lifting her eyes up to you, smiling, then speaks in the strange, rapid fire Shi Dialect of Mandarin. You've had twenty years to pick up the various dialects of American you'd need, and you'd spent all those years in the Hub - you hadn't had the time nor exposure to pick up more than a few words in Shi-Mandarin. But you'd definitely had people try and use it at you for your whole life.

    Usually badly. This lady sounds like she at least knows how to speak it, and with confidence. You try and smile and not look too tired.

    "Sorry Lieutenant, I'm not Shi," you say.

    "Oh. Uh…" the ghoul looks at you. You can tell what she's thinking: Then what the hell are you?

    "I'm from the...the mainland," you say, in lieu of explaining the situation of the Republic of China - which was even more confused and complex than the NCR. Which was saying something. "Came over in a grain ship, a long time ago."

    "Ooh…" the ghoul says, and she actually looked fascinated. "I hear China didn't get hit so hard during the War. Must have been given how much food we import…"

    You snort.

    "You think I'd have come here then?" you said. "Nah, same shit, if not worse."

    "Shame. What's with the headgear?" she asked, tapping the side of her head. It almost took you a second to remember, you'd been wearing your Cortex Comrade so long you barely thought about it.

    "You know pipboys?" you asked, indicating with a wrist. "It's kinda like one of those. They let me keep it under the same religious exemptions."

    "Fine. You have tank A9," she said, pointing and you gave her a nod and did some mental math. A9 looked like it was on the far end of this place, which looks like a pre-war parking lot. There's a gridline of tanks, evenly spaced, all of them gleaming under the brutal sun, and the radiant heat from their painted hulls feels like it is baking you almost as much as that sun is. It'll take time to get to the tank, then time to introduce yourself to the crew…

    Better early then late, you think.

    You step between two tanks who's crews aren't nearby - probably getting mess, considering it was almost 1200 hours. You check your compass to make sure, then pull your prayer rug from your rucksack. You gently tuck it down on the tarmac, squeeze a bit of water from your cantine onto your forehead. You lift your palms, whispering under your breath: "God is Almighty." You begin the raka'ah, the ritual movements, all towards Lost Mecca. One...two...three...four. Your forehead lifted from the mat and you paused, holding onto this moment of peace. Reflection.

    With this peace in you, you take out your photo…

    Who is in the photo? Pick 2!​
    [ ] Your wife, Marie​
    [ ] Your husband, Trevor​
    [ ] Your spouse, Kody​
    [ ] Your daughter, Fen​
    [ ] Your son, Mark​
    [ ] Your child, Browny​
    ​
    Also, choose which one's having a worse time.​
    [ ] They're struggling with long-form Warflu and need expensive meds to kick it. (2 marks)​
    [ ] They're having a hard time at work/school and are unsure about their future (1 marks)​

    "Uh, you doing work here?"

    You hastily cram the photo back into your pocket, then turn and stand, picking up and folding your rug gently. A mechanic is standing at the front end of the two tanks, a big old box of tools in his hands.

    You shake your head and he gives you a funny look as you slip past, then come, at last, to tank A9.

    ---
    Who's sticking their head from the driver seat (driver)
    [ ] a feathered and scaled head, with blue face paint - you think it's a girl (Drives-Quickly)
    [ ] a a male human who is currently in a fierce political debate with the gunner (Quincy)
    [ ] a ghoul who is laying out some tarot cards on the hull (Gwen)

    Who is laying the gun (main gunner)
    [ ] A human woman who is currently in a fierce political debate with the driver (Rebekka)
    [ ] A human man who is currently so sunburned you think he might be a Ghoul by the end of this sortie (Sam)
    [ ] the scrawniest Supermutant you've ever seen in your life. (Trudy)

    Who is sunning themselves on the back of the tank (bow gunner)
    [ ] A human man who looks like he's never worked a day in his life (Shang)
    [ ] A human woman who is in a fierce political debate with the gunner (Sarah)
    [ ] What looks like an Assaultron that somebody stripped for parts (Dora)

    Who is pushing up the new pile of shells for loading (Loader)
    [ ] A ghoul who will not stop complaining. (Ratface)
    [ ] A gas mask clad, trench coat wearing person of unknown providence. (Mask)
    [ ] A scrawny tribal, still tattooed and tough as hell looking (Crow)
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan: Argumentative
    -[X] Your wife, Marie
    -[X] They're struggling with long-form Warflu and need expensive meds to kick it.
    -[X] a male human who is currently in a fierce political debate with the gunner (Quincy)
    -[X] A human woman who is currently in a fierce political debate with the driver (Rebekka)
    -[X] A human woman who is in a fierce political debate with the gunner (Sarah)
    -[X] A gas mask clad, trench coat wearing person of unknown providence. (Mask)
     
    I'm just going to shotgun the characters that caught my eye for whatever reason.

    [X] Plan: Single Father fixed
    -[X] Your daughter, Fen
    --[X] They're having a hard time at work/school and are unsure about their future (1 marks)
    -[X] Your child, Browny
    --[X] They're struggling with long-form Warflu and need expensive meds to kick it. (2 marks)
    -[X] a feathered and scaled head, with blue face paint - you think it's a girl (Drives-Quickly)
    -[X] the scrawniest Supermutant you've ever seen in your life. (Trudy)
    -[X] What looks like an Assaultron that somebody stripped for parts (Dora)
    -[X] A gas mask clad, trench coat wearing person of unknown providence. (Mask)
     
    Last edited:
    [X] Plan: Single Father fixed
    -[X] Your daughter, Fen
    --[X] They're having a hard time at work/school and are unsure about their future (1 marks)
    -[X] Your child, Browny
    --[X] They're struggling with long-form Warflu and need expensive meds to kick it. (2 marks)
    -[X] a feathered and scaled head, with blue face paint - you think it's a girl (Drives-Quickly)
    -[X] the scrawniest Supermutant you've ever seen in your life. (Trudy)
    -[X] What looks like an Assaultron that somebody stripped for parts (Dora)
    -[X] A gas mask clad, trench coat wearing person of unknown providence. (Mask)

    I've always had a fondness for the more out-there and strange companions in Fallout, so I'm glad there's a plan that lets us pick all of them.
     
    Last edited:
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Back
    Top