- Pronouns
- He/They
Rolling for the crown!
The Children's Crusade - A Postapocalyptic Mecha Quest
- Thread starter Talia B
- Start date
- Original Mature Sci-Fi Romance
- Status
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
And now you have an ugly choice.
Pick 3 systems to place those minuses in. If you place a - in Chassis, Luiz will attempt to reroll.
If you place a - in both Targeting and Communications, normally a terrible idea, your life will flash before your eyes… which might give you an emergency backup system and a mulligan for your trouble.
Plan votes for this.
FAILURE ALLOCATION PLAN:
[] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
[] Communications (Flashback with Targeting. You'll lose contact with Luiz and take traumatic damage.)
[] Luiz/Chassis (Luiz will attempt to re-roll this. You'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship and the chassis.)
[] Isaac/Reactive Shield (The Reactive Shield will be mission-killed this run and you'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship.)
[] Reggie/Plasma Shotgun (The Plasma Shotgun will be mission-killed this run and you'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship.)
[] Major Lam/Sensor Crown (The Sensor Crown will be mission-killed this run and you'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship.)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
This seems to be the least of the evils.
This seems to be the least of the evils.
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Sighs and taps the sign
You have three excess failures. You need to place all of them.
- Pronouns
- He/They
[x] Plan Pray For Rerolls
-[X] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
-[X] Communications (Flashback with Targeting. You'll lose contact with Luiz and take traumatic damage.)
-[X] Luiz/Chassis (Luiz will attempt to re-roll this. You'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship and the chassis.)
Hope that mulligan works...
-[X] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
-[X] Communications (Flashback with Targeting. You'll lose contact with Luiz and take traumatic damage.)
-[X] Luiz/Chassis (Luiz will attempt to re-roll this. You'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship and the chassis.)
Hope that mulligan works...
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The problem with this plan is that our first objective was "aid Reggie," and we'll fail at that.
I'm not gonna allow you to fail that task successfully in one roll. If you want to killsteal, you need a fourth roll.
Solark
sun-chaser
Well, in gaming communities killstealing is not considered aiding, quite the opposite actually. So I thought we fail our objective of aiding by killstealing. A shame it's not going to work...
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[x] Plan Pray For Rerolls
-[X] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
-[X] Communications (Flashback with Targeting. You'll lose contact with Luiz and take traumatic damage.)
-[X] Luiz/Chassis (Luiz will attempt to re-roll this. You'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship and the chassis.)
I'm going to go with GrayGriffin's choices since we have to have three failures allocated.
-[X] Primary Targeting (Flashback with Communications. Reginald will miss his shot.)
-[X] Communications (Flashback with Targeting. You'll lose contact with Luiz and take traumatic damage.)
-[X] Luiz/Chassis (Luiz will attempt to re-roll this. You'll take permanent Trust damage to the relationship and the chassis.)
I'm going to go with GrayGriffin's choices since we have to have three failures allocated.
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Be advised that I have been hospitalized. It's not serious, as hospitalizations go, but it does mean I'm on enforced hiatus. I expect to be back after a week.
Also, one more vote for good measure.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The quartermaster.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The gangster.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The last adult.
Also, one more vote for good measure.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The quartermaster.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The gangster.
[] [FLASHBACK TO] The last adult.
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] [FLASHBACK TO] The last adult.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] [FLASHBACK TO] The last adult.
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Total: -------+++
FLASHBACK alteration: -----00+++
Something is wrong. My angle is off; this thing is going to dodge and I'm going to be caught in friendly fire.
The creature knows this. It's halo expands, shedding a colorless light that slows me down - concentrated Pale. I feel like I'm wading through molasses, I can't make out the advice that Luiz is giving me through the distortion.
I close my eyes and my life flashes before them - back to when I became a pilot. Officially.
The electronic devices we were able to scavenge from the old Job Corps on the island - and there were a lot of them - break down, are more useful as spare parts for the stuff that NEEDS a chip that can math faster than my brother can. The reams and reams of paper from the classrooms on graphic design and office work and even from writing menus in the Culinary block were way more plentiful and more reliable. We kept our documents on paper; you couldn't erase them by waving a magnet over them.
Which is why I had signed my name in broad cursive loops, BECCA EMETT KNIGHTLEY, on a piece of yellowing paper I clutched tight to my heart, to bring before Colonel Mike Fitzroy.
Michael Lear Fitzroy. The last adult on Earth, as far as we knew.
He sat on his chair, the nicest one he could scavenge from the offices, contoured so he could sit up straight even though he slouched from constant exhaustion anyway. He had his mug of coffee, always, with honey and no cream, always, brewing at his desk from an electric hob appropriated from Culinary and powered by a battery charged with windtraps and scavenged solar cells, always.
This Michael had for a halo around his balding head the San Francisco Bay, the map behind his head of the whole region tagged with a hundred and eight pushpins in red, a scant few in gold, even fewer in Resistance blue.
I wasn't sure until I saw it on his bony hand if I believed he really signed things with a stamp on his ring, but there it was, along with a candle on his desk in a deep rich red beeswax.
I stepped up to his desk and wordlessly offered him the form I'd signed saying that I chose to be a pilot myself, knowing it was dangerous, of my own free will. He sipped his coffee before putting down the cup and taking the paper, raising a pair of glasses to his eyes, scratching at salt and pepper stubble as he read the form.
He put down the paper and turned his grey eyes to me.
"I understand your brother had objections," he said.
I straighten up tighter, trying to look taller than I am.
I said, "I love him, and I know he only wants me to be safe - but to hell with his objections. Sir."
He laughs, once, a flat bark. I see a sharp tooth in his mouth, the crinkles along his cheekbones. "Good to see you taking some initiative," he said. "I don't suppose you've tried telling him you'd be safer in a cockpit than a bomb shelter?"
"Didn't occur to me. Should have tried that," I replied.
"Major Lam is fond of that point," he said, taking up his coffee again. He took another pull from the mug, a longer one - a louder one.
I shifted in place, trying to look at the map behind him, see if there was anything about our position I could understand beyond being super outnumbered.
"- Why do you want to fight them?" the Colonel asked me, abruptly enough that I flinched.
"Why do I want to fight them, sir?" I echoed, confused.
"Yes, that's what I asked," he said, a single eyebrow conveying his irritation.
"Because - because I don't have parents and neither does my brother, because we used to have a civilization instead of a bunker here," I said, and I couldn't help gesturing a bit with my arms. "People are starving and dying of measles because the Invaders dropped in for no good reason -"
"- 'for no good reason,' eh?" he said, jumping on the phrase like he had a bayonet, and I could see for the first time how intense his gaze could be - how nearly he could set things on fire with the hatred in his eyes.
"I guess if they had a reason, it wouldn't matter to us at all," I say.
"You're damn right it wouldn't matter," he says, and if there was a slight upward curve in the line that was his mouth, a slight crinkle of the eyes in approval, it was subtle enough that I might have imagined it. "No end in the world could justify the death of my wife, the loss of my son, the starvation and terror you and yours endured, the end of our civilization. That's why pilots are necessary."
"To fight monsters," I say.
"Take a seat, if you like," he says. "This is more ceremony than anything, but there's purpose to the ceremony. Strength in ritual."
I grab a chair and, gratefully, sit.
He opens a desk drawer, fumbles a bit, hands me a box of matches. "Light the candle," he says.
It doesn't take me long.
The shadows playing across his face make him look even older, even grimmer, as he takes the candlestick and holds it at an angle, dripping a neat blob of wax onto my Pilot application. Then he presses his ring into it, leaving the seal of the Resistance: A heart above a winged chevron, pierced by a longsword.
"Welcome to the Paladin Corps, Miss Knightley," he says.
He offers his ring hand to me. I shake it.
My eyes snap open and I have a plan. I'll use my fumble - the overextension - lean into it, get behind the creature. I'll need a melee weapon for this to have a chance in hell of working.
"LUIZ!" I roar. "RAILSPIKER, NOW!"
"Acknowledge, drawing Railspiker!" Luiz shouts, relief in his voice. "Repeat, ack-ack, drawing Railspiker!"
I skid, servos groaning, and a gauntlet-mounted weapon materializes on my left fist as I lunge.
Flashback successful. The two negatives you put into Safety and Mission are now neutral rolls, and you can reassign the whole kit and caboodle...
Plus a roll of 3dF for the RAILSPIKER, which you will need to assign a die to.
FLASHBACK alteration: -----00+++
Something is wrong. My angle is off; this thing is going to dodge and I'm going to be caught in friendly fire.
The creature knows this. It's halo expands, shedding a colorless light that slows me down - concentrated Pale. I feel like I'm wading through molasses, I can't make out the advice that Luiz is giving me through the distortion.
I close my eyes and my life flashes before them - back to when I became a pilot. Officially.
The electronic devices we were able to scavenge from the old Job Corps on the island - and there were a lot of them - break down, are more useful as spare parts for the stuff that NEEDS a chip that can math faster than my brother can. The reams and reams of paper from the classrooms on graphic design and office work and even from writing menus in the Culinary block were way more plentiful and more reliable. We kept our documents on paper; you couldn't erase them by waving a magnet over them.
Which is why I had signed my name in broad cursive loops, BECCA EMETT KNIGHTLEY, on a piece of yellowing paper I clutched tight to my heart, to bring before Colonel Mike Fitzroy.
Michael Lear Fitzroy. The last adult on Earth, as far as we knew.
He sat on his chair, the nicest one he could scavenge from the offices, contoured so he could sit up straight even though he slouched from constant exhaustion anyway. He had his mug of coffee, always, with honey and no cream, always, brewing at his desk from an electric hob appropriated from Culinary and powered by a battery charged with windtraps and scavenged solar cells, always.
This Michael had for a halo around his balding head the San Francisco Bay, the map behind his head of the whole region tagged with a hundred and eight pushpins in red, a scant few in gold, even fewer in Resistance blue.
I wasn't sure until I saw it on his bony hand if I believed he really signed things with a stamp on his ring, but there it was, along with a candle on his desk in a deep rich red beeswax.
I stepped up to his desk and wordlessly offered him the form I'd signed saying that I chose to be a pilot myself, knowing it was dangerous, of my own free will. He sipped his coffee before putting down the cup and taking the paper, raising a pair of glasses to his eyes, scratching at salt and pepper stubble as he read the form.
He put down the paper and turned his grey eyes to me.
"I understand your brother had objections," he said.
I straighten up tighter, trying to look taller than I am.
I said, "I love him, and I know he only wants me to be safe - but to hell with his objections. Sir."
He laughs, once, a flat bark. I see a sharp tooth in his mouth, the crinkles along his cheekbones. "Good to see you taking some initiative," he said. "I don't suppose you've tried telling him you'd be safer in a cockpit than a bomb shelter?"
"Didn't occur to me. Should have tried that," I replied.
"Major Lam is fond of that point," he said, taking up his coffee again. He took another pull from the mug, a longer one - a louder one.
I shifted in place, trying to look at the map behind him, see if there was anything about our position I could understand beyond being super outnumbered.
"- Why do you want to fight them?" the Colonel asked me, abruptly enough that I flinched.
"Why do I want to fight them, sir?" I echoed, confused.
"Yes, that's what I asked," he said, a single eyebrow conveying his irritation.
"Because - because I don't have parents and neither does my brother, because we used to have a civilization instead of a bunker here," I said, and I couldn't help gesturing a bit with my arms. "People are starving and dying of measles because the Invaders dropped in for no good reason -"
"- 'for no good reason,' eh?" he said, jumping on the phrase like he had a bayonet, and I could see for the first time how intense his gaze could be - how nearly he could set things on fire with the hatred in his eyes.
"I guess if they had a reason, it wouldn't matter to us at all," I say.
"You're damn right it wouldn't matter," he says, and if there was a slight upward curve in the line that was his mouth, a slight crinkle of the eyes in approval, it was subtle enough that I might have imagined it. "No end in the world could justify the death of my wife, the loss of my son, the starvation and terror you and yours endured, the end of our civilization. That's why pilots are necessary."
"To fight monsters," I say.
"Take a seat, if you like," he says. "This is more ceremony than anything, but there's purpose to the ceremony. Strength in ritual."
I grab a chair and, gratefully, sit.
He opens a desk drawer, fumbles a bit, hands me a box of matches. "Light the candle," he says.
It doesn't take me long.
The shadows playing across his face make him look even older, even grimmer, as he takes the candlestick and holds it at an angle, dripping a neat blob of wax onto my Pilot application. Then he presses his ring into it, leaving the seal of the Resistance: A heart above a winged chevron, pierced by a longsword.
"Welcome to the Paladin Corps, Miss Knightley," he says.
He offers his ring hand to me. I shake it.
My eyes snap open and I have a plan. I'll use my fumble - the overextension - lean into it, get behind the creature. I'll need a melee weapon for this to have a chance in hell of working.
"LUIZ!" I roar. "RAILSPIKER, NOW!"
"Acknowledge, drawing Railspiker!" Luiz shouts, relief in his voice. "Repeat, ack-ack, drawing Railspiker!"
I skid, servos groaning, and a gauntlet-mounted weapon materializes on my left fist as I lunge.
Flashback successful. The two negatives you put into Safety and Mission are now neutral rolls, and you can reassign the whole kit and caboodle...
Plus a roll of 3dF for the RAILSPIKER, which you will need to assign a die to.
Last edited:
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Is 3dF just 3d6 or are we doing something fancy with this roll that I missed?
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I've been converting d6 to dF. 1-2 is a botch, 3-4 is neutral, 5-6 is a success.
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Oh okay fudge dice, gotcha.
Rolling!
Rolling!
Talia B
Designer for the Other Worlds Tourism Bureau
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Final Power Total: ------00+++++
Assign two Stress damage.
[] [Stress] CHASSIS/Luiz Buenadventura
[] [Stress] PLASMA SHOTGUN/Reggie B.
[] [Stress] REACTIVE SHIELD/Isaac Knightley
[] [Stress] SENSOR CROWN/Victoria Lam
[] [Stress] RAILSPIKER/Michael Fitzroy
Assign two Stress damage.
[] [Stress] CHASSIS/Luiz Buenadventura
[] [Stress] PLASMA SHOTGUN/Reggie B.
[] [Stress] REACTIVE SHIELD/Isaac Knightley
[] [Stress] SENSOR CROWN/Victoria Lam
[] [Stress] RAILSPIKER/Michael Fitzroy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] [Stress] REACTIVE SHIELD/Isaac Knightley
[X] [Stress] RAILSPIKER/Michael Fitzroy
[X] [Stress] RAILSPIKER/Michael Fitzroy
- Status