"Thanks for the run!" TaHi-2 said with an excited wave, her The O avatar slowly dispersing as she logged off, "Now I've got the same rank as sis!"
"Hah, no worries! It's always nice to go for a light marathon." Galatea chuckled. Two hours straight had certainly scratched the endless mission itch. She wasn't one of those deranged grind cultists who would go for eight hours straight, but she could still appreciate a long mission.
"See-ya later Gala!" With one last wave, she disappeared, leaving the tall bottle of fish sauce alone in the lobby. Well, as good a time as any to prep up for the visit to the EU hub that Cheese had promised her. Sure, she hadn't been given any information other than 'megachurch', but she could work with that.
"Why heeeeello there, miss 'Completely Blind'," Speaking of the devil, he appeared right as she finished glueing on the last of her tentacle covers, "Enjoyed your shopping spree I
see?"
"As much as the designer finally having someone appreciate his work. I know that most players don't think to use anything other than the presets of generic anime man and woman, but must they be so milquetoast in what they wear?" She grumbled, an oversized sleeve flopping around as she gesticulated.
"You expect too much of the local salaryman that just comes here to have a bit of fun on the one hour their black company affords them– I'm only mostly joking. People tend to think of their gunpla as their Avatar, and their avatar as just a little something that lets them eat cake." Ervoan chuckled.
"Bah. Bah I say!" She pouted, happily playing into how much younger the outfit made her look despite her height.
Patting the head of the nun-like woman like she was a child, Ervoan chuckled, "D'aw. Lookit you being all upset and stuff~!"
"Says the man standing on his tippy toes to reach my head." Galatea snickered.
"Says the woman pouting
exactly like my kids," He immediately shot back, stance wobbling a bit, "That veil hides
nothing if you're that tall, you know?"
"It's not really a veil, just an oversized version of that white band nun habits have." She said with a shrug which hid the rustle of her tail darting out to unbalance him.
"Fool!" With a backdash, he avoided the shove, "My dad-sense is too strong for your weak shenanigans! You'll never catch me off guard with such obvious tactics! –Anyhow, ready to go to Europe?"
"I'll send your daughters a dozen tubs of finger paint for christmas, see if I don't." The nun sniffed, only to drop her act just as quickly as her friend had once she had the last word. "But yeah. I want to see how this megachurch stacks up against the Sagrada Familia."
"The Church of Saint Amuro is pretty dope. Ignore the statues of Kira Yamato if you see any, they are the symbol of the devil. Anyhow to get there, we'll need to hop back into our Mobile Suits, don't need to get into a fight or anything," Jabbing a finger towards one of the giant circular gates that hovered above the city, he continued, "We need to use one of those to get to the server. Everything's interconnected, but it'd take like half a day to fly there from here– and we'd need to pass over Russia, AKA the land of the PvP junkies."
"Kurwa." Galatea deadpanned.
The 'loading tunnel' seemed to go on forever. The game stubbornly refused to let her access the stupid server, the featureless walls killing her with the tedium of it all, until at long last the exit finally came into view.
A boost of her thrusters and she was through, light blinding her cameras for a moment until–
Well, it was a very European sight, she guessed? At least how people usually imagined it: Rolling green hills, some forests and huge mountains in the distance, the sun setting beneath them.
"Aaaaand we're here! Come on, the hub's that a way," From inside of her cockpit, Ervoan poked at the largest mountain off in the distance, "Should take us a minute or two to reach it."
"Oh, is it a kingdom under the mountain sort of deal?" She asked. That could be neat.
"Noooot quite. But you're not
entirely wrong?
" Her passenger shrugged, before leaning against one of the walls, "You'll see soon enough~."
Sure enough, as they approached, the mountain started to look… weird. The massive shadow it cast made it really hard to tell, but it looked
angular? Somehow. Like parts of it were carved.
More and more details started to pop out as they got closer. Pipes snaking through the scenery, massive gas vents bursting out of the healthy ground like a myriad of roots and mushrooms–
But the nature of the 'mountain' became all too clear when they crossed the border that separated light and darkness.
"Cago'n Deu." She swore lowly.
A gothic
BEHEMOTH rose in front of her.
Gargantuan spires of steel and stone rose from the very lowest levels of the earth and into the sky.
It was no mountain, but the promised 'Megachurch'.
And it certainly lived to its name. Even from here, she could see magnificent glass stained windows, statues of Mobile Suits clad in holy vestments and armour. Some even having enough taste to ditch the Gundams' facemasks in favour of knightly helms, their V-fins repurposed into heraldries.
She numbly checked the HUD. Seventy kilometres away still.
"Yep, that's the face I was expecting."
"
Please tell me the people around here put a tenth of this effort into their avatars." The fake nun pleaded, even as her eyes refused to budge from the monument to urbanisation.
"Each Hub tends to correspond to a group of players. Japan's the more 'normal' crowd, Persia, or the middle east, are for the builders, Russia is home to the PvP-ers, the americas is where the combat lunatics live, greater Asia's where the martial arts lunatics are based in," Holy shit that statue of a paladin Zaku was the size of a god damn skyscraper
made for Mobile Suits. The Fishbone was
smaller than the monoeye!, "Europe? Europe is where the
roleplayers are based out of."
Twirling into her view, Ervoan gave her the most over the top bow she'd ever seen, "Allow me, my friend, to welcome you to the one true home you never knew you had~."
"Motherfucker, if you'd told me I'd have been able to prep a character." Galatea grumbled without heat, the pout fighting ferociously with her smile.
Lifting his head, he gave her a flat stare, before delivering an even flatter, "
No."
Moving away from her main camera's screen, he shrugged, "Honestly, as much as it's a roleplayer's heaven, it's probably better that you get a decent taste of it before you commit to any character. Most people here go for the classic Zeon, Federation, or whatever other Gundam faction they think is coolest, but some people? They dive in deeeeeeep, making the weirdest of things. From what I heard? This place used to be normal looking before a group of players got to it, and well–"
"They did with the city what I did with my avatar, yeah." She chuckled. "But fair, I didn't stop to think that most would go for Gundam factions, which I have zero fucking clue on."
"I can probably introduce you to a few people if you want– oh, right. I think you mentioned another hobby project? Working on your second kit? Might be able to narrow down the sort of people to go poke." He asked from behind his gas mask.
"Oh, nah, I just found some small figurines at a flea market. Using them as painting and moulding fodder." Galatea shook her head. "You know my grumblings about the Fishbone's finish."
"Huh, really? What sort? Like action figures, or minis?" Ervoan tilted his head.
"Minis, I think. Those are the ones that have fixed joints and come in a little base, right?" The fake nun said, a finger on her lower lip.
"Yep. Usually used for things like DnD or wargames. Got pictures of them?"
"Yeah, I take a few before and after every project with them. One sec." She said as she flicked open the menu. Thankfully, she had all of them in a solo discord server, because while google drive was a good backup, it was slow and a pain in the ass when it came to searching for pics.
"Huh… I thought you said those were just for testing your skills?" Sliding up next to her, Ervoan gave her a bit of ribbing as he peered at the holographic screen, "But look at you, already getting into the underground parts of GBNO. You can't fool me here, good sir~."
"I guess Gundam has monstergirls hiding in some obscure spin off?" Galatea asked with a tilt of her head, completely confused. "It was an old lady selling her kids' old things, so I didn't get any context for them."
"...Do–," The man looked at her incredulously as they finally entered the
cavernous city, the hangar bay being located between two noble-looking MS, a Zaku and a Gouf, crossing their weapons high above as a gesture of respect and camaraderie, "Do you
not know about Warhammer 40k?"
"Isn't that a Total War setting?" The fake nun asked, very faintly remembering a thumbnail of some sort of generic fantasy TW game with that name on youtube.
Her friend snort-guffawed his disgusting French laugh, "Pfffffawhawhawhaw! No– No it's not!" Laughing still as they docked, he wiped an imaginary tear, "It's only
the most popular miniature wargame in the world, 'Blood for the Blood God'? 'Show me what passes for fury amongst your misbegotten kind'? 'METAL BAWKES!'? 'Just as planned'? All of those memes came from it!"
"Huh, neat." She had encountered like half of them, although she had been pretty sure 'just as planned' was just a variant of 'all according to keikaku'. "But what does it have to do with Gundam that it's an underground thing here?"
"Bandai
owns Games Workshop. It's actually kind of the funniest shit ever, want me to explain badly, or do you want me to link you a video that goes
deep so you can really
get why it's hilarious?" Ervoan asked.
"Explanation now, video later. Otherwise it's going to be bothering me for the entire trip." She said with a wave of her hand, idly stepping out of her cockpit into the platform.
"Fair enough," For his part, Ervoan simply leaped out of the cockpit, landing right next to her like a Tenno starting a mission, "I'll tell you while we walk. Just to be sure, you do think those girls of yours are real neat, right?"
"Yeah, great sculpt and really solid colour scheme. Chalk white skin with a light lilac tint works for whatever sort of succubi they are. The hot pink hair and inhuman bits were a bit much, but shifting them to a vivid purple fixed that." Galatea said, faintly feeling like she was peering down another fandom hole. Ah, well, Hololive hadn't gotten her, so this probably wouldn't either.
"What about these?" Opening a few windows, he first showed her an army of
red-robed robot people, gigantic stomping machines behind them. Then switched to another,
grim faced giants in heavy armour firing upon a collection of her own figurines as a large, heavily armed,
power loader straight out of Alien unleashed a gout of flame. Before opening one last image, which had one of the gribbly-est
alien swarm she'd seen, "See anything you like in here?"
"First one is pretty good but I don't like a few of their units. Second one's great. Third is neat but not really my thing." She rattled off. Galatea liked monsters as much as the next girl, but something about the design rubbed her wrong. Maybe it was that they looked like they were trying a bit too hard to seem scary? Although the organic guns were a really nice touch.
"Right then, in that case I know exactly where to take you. It's pretty damn deep in the city's bowels though, so it'll take a bit to walk there," Motioning at Galatea to follow, he began to explain, "So, first thing you need to understand. Games Workshop, or GW, was a pretty big deal back when this all happened. You know about Touhou right? How it's a Japanese game series that basically infected the western internet and kept spreading? Well, 40k's the same– except from the west. It's pretty massive over in Japan, even if you wouldn't think it with how no one really talks about it."
"So hundreds of unique characters but very little lore, making everyone cook up their own stuff? At least, that's how I understand Touhou got so popular. Well, that and the banger music." The fake nun tilted her head, before waving a hand as if to fan away an idea, "And a mountain of gay porn, of course, but everything popular has that."
"Not nearly as many hats, cool music and gay porn. But kinda yeah," Down and down they went. Passing by dozens of people, each more colourful than the last, the majority were wearing Gundam based outfits, but she could see blips of completely different looks here and there. Their numbers growing as they headed deeper, "With the caveat that it actually has like, a
shitton of lore. But almost all of it is galactic scaled, the sort of major, faction shaping and history defining stuff of legends. Which leaves
a lot of cracks and empty space to be filled by 'your dudes', who while they won't be changing the fate of the galaxy,
can change that of entire worlds, solar systems and so on."
Galatea decided not to mention how a plurality of people would ferociously wank about their randoms saving everything forever across the entire galaxy. You had to ignore 90% of fan content or drown in sewage. "Neat. How well
does it handle that scale, though? Sci-fi is infamous for it."
"Neither GW, nor Bandai, can scale for shit." He said simply, "But back on topic. GW was many things. But they weren't willing to, or able to– I'm fuzzy on the specifics, distribute 40K in Japan… which is where Bandai comes in."
"Dunno how it went, but everyone's favourite Giant Robot and Warcrime providers took care of 40k in Japan– GW and them got along pretty well from what I can tell. Letting Bandai make official, Japan exclusive, 40k minis called 'Warhammer Heroes'... it was a gasha," He added, like the foregone conclusion that it was.
"Of course. We should count ourselves lucky they didn't gate it behind pachinko as-is." Why Bandai had a boner for those machines, she'd never know.
"Heh. Yeah… but now? Now comes
the funi, so you might recall that when the company that came up with plavsky particles unveiled them, Bandai jumped on them and got an exclusive deal." Pausing for a second or two, he opened a map to check their location. From the looks of it, they were in the middle levels, and getting close to some sort of lift.
Which she still thought stank a great deal, as with any exclusivity contract. Especially with something like a whole-ass magic particle. Even when the beneficiaries didn't get lazy in their monopoly, it meant everyone got cheated out of anything not made by the company.
"Plavsky plastic single handedly changed the gunpla marketing strategy. Before kits were relatively expensive, since after buying on, you, in theory, don't
need to get a second of the same MS, but with Gunpla Battling entering the equation?
Bam!" Snapping his fingers to illustrate his point, "You needed kits by the dozen!
As you well know…"
"I've seen the pictures, too." She chuckled ruefully. So goddamn many spare parts piling up because if any one bit got broken you had to buy a whole new kit.
"And people
wonder why I made having a weapon selection wider than their mom's backside my gimmick," He grumbled as he shuddered, the horrors creeping back into his mind, "Can you believe that the first time I did that, it was solely because the beam emitter in the Likorn's wrist got completely fucked by a beam and I didn't have a spare one? I had to scramble to shove a random bit in there, I didn't even know it was a grenade until I launched into the finals…
somehow it got me the tournament win, and everyone was so convinced it had been on purpose that I decided 'Guess that's my life now.'"
"Stellar decisionmaking." The fake nun snickered behind her fingers, seeming to shrink three feet in an eyeblink as brat energy took over. It helped that she'd
actually shrunk by a foot by contorting her semi-cartilaginous skeleton.
"Honestly, it kinda was?" Only for his 'Yeah, imo you're actually correct' shields to repel most of the surge, "I've never had more fun watching people over analyse what sort of loadout I'd be bringing whenever I bought a new kit and posted it on twitter. I basically went through half a tournament without fighting anyone, because they mindgame'd themselves into thinking that I had the exact weapons to completely counter them. It was
hilarious."
"But yeah. With that sort of paradigm change, Bandai made kits much, much cheaper. More or less knocked half the price off– it hurt their margins, but it boosted revenue since GB was both super accessible cost-wise, and had an in-built attrition that made you constantly buy new kits… Aaaand therein lies the problem– we're taking the next left to get to the lift. Should be a pretty scenic descent," Pointing at a small opening on their left, he began shuffling through the people towards it, "GW used their Bandai connection to get access to the Plavsky particle too. The idea was to allow the epic and rich world of 40k into the real world. To turn games of it into
true wars and skirmishes where grand armies clashed on the battlefield!"
"I mean, minis are probably a lot cheaper to replace, although I pity chaff heavy factions." Galatea hazarded, thumbing the rim of her visor. "Did they rip them off with the paints or something?"
"Nah. They just didn't change the pricing at all– oh, by the way a basic squad was like 30 bucks for unpainted, unglued, still on sprue, gray plastic dudes."
Galatea froze mid step, lifted her visor to get a second look, dug around in her ear and–
Nope, she had heard right and her friend wasn't joking.
"What."
"Oh– and one of the factions has a thing where if they die, they can come back at the end of a turn, they are Egyptian Robot Zombies–," He spun to look at her, a manic glow shining through his lenses, "
Can ye guess what didn't work in the new format where your models get turned into fecking ash?"
"Amazing." She deadpanned, feeling the force of three million shitposts and bitching sessions come crashing down onto her head from the internet.
"Mhm," Ervoan sighed, feeling the exact same pain, "I was… lucky? Depending on your opinion, to see some of those battles. And
yeah they were absolutely amazing. Everything you'd want them to be, but then the guys that fought realised that in a single game, they'd lost around 80% of their army. Gunpla back then rewarded you the more effort you put into them, painting and the likes boosted performance as it does now, damage was a pain to fix, but it wasn't
lose over two years worth of love and effort amounts of pain."
"So yeah, people were ever so slightly
miffed. As you can guess. They screamed at GW louder than they ever screamed at them and GW heard them…" Taking a dramatic pause, Galatea already knew what he was about to say, "So they hiked up the price of the models because 'the new plastic required higher quality molds' and because people stopped buying their shit entirely– oh, forgot to mention. GW basically decided that the 'real' combat was now the only official way to play the game. So people also kinda just stopped attending their official tournaments. I don't think you need a degree in economics to guess what happened next."
Finally, they reached the lift meant to take them lower still. It was a very utilitarian one. A box of metal, with peeling paint and walls made from chainlinks.
"Bandai drank their corpse like a capri sun." She said with a shake of her head, hand on her hip as she settled herself in the elevator. The franchise had clearly stuck around given Cheese's comments before this deranged trip through corporate incompetence.
"More or less, yeah. GW went through a massive death spiral, until Bandai bought them out entirely, which included all of their IPs," With a shudder, the lift began to go down. Its gaps only showing bare concrete walls at first, "They had a few rocking about. But basically, from that point on Bandai called the shots and sort of just rolled back all of GW's blunders. Kits got cheaper overall, the live combat became an alternate way to play it instead of the main, and so on."
Suddenly, their world
opened up.
A cavern, oppressive in its yawning size and self assured grandeur as statues like those of the outside held the very roof upon the backs, welcomed them.
Even though he was obviously used to this, Gala's good friend couldn't help but take in a sharp breath at the sight of it.
"Well, it isn't an authentic dwarven hold, but I think that's still an item off my bucket list." The fake nun muttered under her breath.
"Oh, nah. Those are in the Iceland and Scandinavian region," He said, nonplussed, "Because now we get to the crux of your question. 'Why is 40k an 'underground' thing? Besides the fact that the lads we're gonna meet decided to run with the joke and made their den deep into the recesses of the earth? Bandai uses the same plastics for
everything in the catalogue of products. The same sort of plastics used to make gunplas are used in GW models, from the 40k ones, to the fantasy, or Age of Sigmar ones too. See where I'm going with that?"
"Is GBNO such a temple to pasta that the same code that makes giant mechs work, by complete fuckin accident, can run infantry units just fine?" She slumped incredulously.
"Hehe, almost. But not quite. As I heard it being told, back when it came out the game could
scan them just fine. But they come out as… well, basically a tiny Gunpla that you couldn't do anything with since there's no cockpit. But everything else was as it should be. Same pose, same texture, same colours," Opening a screen, he showed her a picture of a giant grim man with a Char looking dude gesturing excitedly at it. It looked like a statue, and a pretty dope one at that, "So this guy here, did the only sane thing. He started modding the game so you could play 40k in GBNO…"
"Bug that let you scan them got patched basically just before he could release it. He uh… He may have sent a very insulting letter to the Bandai HQ as a result, alongside the parts of the mod that were done," A much spiker grim man showed on his screen, fighting the less spiky grim men, "Specifically the Space Marines, and Chaos Space Marines– the posterboys of the setting. To everyone's surprise, they hired him right after, and now the mod is an unofficial official thing?"
"Nea–" She froze, gears visibly turning in her head even with the visor blocking half her face until her neck snapped to him hard enough to cripple a human. "Wait. Waitwaitwait. Does this mean that you can legitimately get the Warframe experience here?"
"My sister in Christ, I literally parried bullets in front of you?" He asked, unsure of what she meant, "Define the Warframe experience. Because if that's not it, then I dunno what is? Do you mean– like fighting people out of the mechs?"
"I mean actually having
content for those physical feats. I thought all I'd get to do was pinball around hubs and once in a blue moon spar with a player." She gesticulated wildly as her voice grew more crazed, a manic laugh ripping out of her throat, "Now you just told me I can go mow through the Infestation's less mouldy cousins."
"–Gala, I can go out right now and fight a Zaku with my sword if I feel like it."
"That's a cool boss fight but not the
point." He raised a finger to try and interrupt her, but lowered it, conceding the point, "The warframe experience is mowing through hordes of chaff with the occasional crunchy bit of elite."
"Yeah, okay. I didn't think of it that way. But yeah, you kiiiinda do? It's not quite the same, but– you know what? I'll just say yes. And let Gerg explain it. He's better at that than I could ever be," Walls once more enclosed them, before the lift came to a gentle stop, "But since that's gonna bother you all the way until we get there–"
Going low, he grabbed Gala and pulled her in a princess carry, struggling a bit with her size, but not her weight, "I'll leave you to explore the hub later. Hold on tight, because I'm giving you the 'Why Tennos don't carry rescue targets' experience right this second!"
It was hard to tell if the tall glass of fish sauce was screaming for her life or whooping in joy as her friend carried her. Jumping across, over, along walls and buildings, sliding under pipes and between moving containers.
He slid down a waterway, the edge rushing to meet them alongside a pit of utter darkness. Their only salvation from a painful fall, a ledge in the distance. Ervoan chose that moment to make his delight known. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOO! PAAAAAARKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUR!"
His leg pushed off with utterly inhuman strength, water exploding all around them from the sheer force behind the jump. They hung in the air, weightless, frozen in space as time stood still, fate tossing the coin to decide if they would make it or not.
The fall wasn't the most pleasant, her friend obviously not knowing how to nail the landing with a passenger and arms glued to said bundle of sushi. Still, their tumble didn't end badly as they rolled off the ledge and into another steep incline…
"Phew~," Eventually, the cheese's mad run slowed down, first into a jog, then into a spirited walk, "We're almost there."
The vibe here was quite different from the upper levels. Like the entire mass of the hub above pressed down on them. The architecture was still quite nice, but felt… slum-y or at least fairly seedy. It was reflected by the people around them too. Most paid them no mind, but some stared at them with curiosity. And fewer still gave Ervoan a nod of respect or recognition.
"Mind unsticking yourself? The club's on the next right," he shook her a bit, but couldn't get her off to showcase his predicament, "And it's not the best entrance, for either of us."
A quiet hiss and the faint smell of the sea was her answer. It felt like he was covered in pop rocks as the resin melted away to harmless vapour.
"Ooooh, tingly." Crouching, he helped her to her feet, "You can walk alright, or?"
"I'm… fine." She said as shakily as her legs, however her tail
did stabilise her just fine so she wasn't talking out of that perfectly sculpted ass. A few seconds later, the red faded from her body, leaving her white as a sheet again.
"Good to hear, come on. Greg should be waiting for us." Waving her forwards, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began whistling as he led her.
As they turned right, they came across… Well, it wasn't the most impressive building. If anything, it looked kind of not so great. A large door, some windows, all made from sheet metal and built into one of the pillars that supported this level of the mountain.
The only thing that gave a clue to what lay beyond was a small placard, set right above the door.
Avernus.
…Unfortunately, she didn't have the rest of the clues, so she couldn't figure out what that meant at all. She only had
'they may've named this after el averno'.
Pushing on the door, her friend kept it open as he invited her in, "Welcome Gala, to Club Avernus."
She strode right in, heels clicking on the steel flooring as she let her tail and tentacles unfurl, thick and heavy as they hung from her body. Lovingly sculpted marble with the subtlest veining to catch the eye like damascus, built in finger-thick overlapping plates. Gold inlays traced out winged, flaming figures raining death on copper monstrosities, their blood rendered as turquoise rust.
It probably didn't fit whatever lore these people were running one to one, but she rather thought she caught a similar spirit to those golden winged skulls she'd spied on the chestplates.
The interior was honestly a lot nicer than she'd expected from the facade.
It wasn't
amazing, but it was a nice looking, fairly classy and well lit bar. Lots of wood panelling along the lower wall, each panel covered in a different symbol and a whole lot of embellishments framing them, presumably fitting with whatever the icons meant in the Warhammer. The walls proper weren't particularly worked on. Just solid, uniform stone, with a few paintings to break up the monotony.
The bar itself ran roughly the entire length of the left side of the large room, a towering wall of colourful bottles right behind the polished counter. Behind it, at the far end of the space, she could see a set of stairs trailing up.
The tables were wooden, if of a different type than what'd gone into the walls if the shade and grain were anything to go by. The seats were as one would expect, a gamut of wall couches, bar stools and table chairs. What mattered more were the occupants, ranging from the Space Marines and funny red robed robot people to what she tentatively placed down as space elves to Nvidia's take on egyptian robot skeletons.
What really caught her eye, though, was The Hulk. He sat at the bar, wearing some sort of mad-max armour while sipping something from a massive jug of beer… Which he held in his hands like it was a cup of tea, and he, an english gentleman, pinkie finger extended.
Some turned to look at the two new arrivals, plenty raising their drinks towards her friend, before going back to their discussion. But some lingered on her with a raised eyebrow.
Going with her gut instinct, she waved back. With her tentacles, hands remaining tucked away in her wide sleeves.
People waved back in response, some more hesitantly than others, "Come on, I see Greg over there, he'll be able to explain about the crunch," Weaving between the tables, her friend nodded towards the various patrons. "So, there's two types of people that come to the club," And now that she was weaving between them. Galatea could tell that their appearance varied wildly in quality too. Some looked really good, others… not so much, like someone using a bunch of premade assets to try and replicate a specific look by agencying them in ways that they weren't meant to, "There's the fluff enjoyers. They're just here because they like the setting. 40K's not exactly a cheap hobby, even with Bandai slashing the prices of the kits they average at around twenty to thirty bucks, more than your average HG Gunpla– and that doesn't factor in the paints or assembly."
"Then we have people like Greg, me and some of the other regulars, I think I can see Shi'va over there, talking with Caprius," He pointed out a small, but stocky blue skinned woman, and one of the red-robes, "But basically we're the actual players, with armies and models… Though, I say that, but I'm still working on mine. I only have a Killteam completely done and ready for play ATM."
"I assume that's a me and the boys playmode instead of full armies? Would the girls I got be enough for that?" The faux nun asked with a cutesy tilt of her head. Helped that she'd shrunk to six feet again.
"Not sure, but I think so– Hey Greg!" With a shout, he called out and–
"Hmmm?" The Hulk turned towards them.
And maybe calling him The Hulk wasn't charitable. Because he sure seemed
bigger than said super hero. Mostly due to his naturally hunched posture. Rather than having his head on top of his shoulders like a human, Greg's seemed to come out from
between the shoulders, making him look less like a giant green man and more like a green
brick.
He was easily three times as wide as she was now, and probably twice as tall unfurled. As it stood, if she were to go back to her full height, Galatea figured she miiiiight be able to
just barely edge out his sitting form.
"Well, if dat's not 'da newest boy on 'da blok," His accent was
barely understandable, which meant that he'd be completely incomprehensible if not for the P-Particle BS that her friend had pointed out before… His teeth were also massive, pointed and the size of her hand.
How was she able to tell?
The giant, toothy grin he was giving her, his two, beady, black eyes staring down at her as she saw his pig-ish (if you could call a near complete lack of one that) nose huff in amusement.
"An' 'da wif' yu keep raggin' on 'aboot'."
"Just good friends." She chuckled with a giant grin of her own, the subtle seam stretching past her lips opening up to show pearly whites that'd send a great white running. She was a
fake nun, after all.
"Oi, dat's one neat a'atar yu gots dere!" The people looking at the scene recoiled a little at the sudden slasher grin, clearly not expecting it, but Greg? His own nonplussed chuckle was a deeper one, sounding more like a particularly quiet grinder, "So, if youz' not 'da wif', wot'chu dooing 'ere?"
"Warframe refugee," Ervoan explained, "And she accidentally bought daemonettes at a flea market– the recast of the old 3E model I think? Told her about 40K, now she's interested."
"Wel, she got 'da Slaanesh look down 'dats fer sure." he chuckled.
"I see, says the blind woman." Galatea drawled as the seam closed back up. A touch of rubbery resin and it was all but invisible.
"Freaky seggs demons," Her friend told her, "And yeah. She does."
"Heh, right den. Me name' Gralkuk E'rippah Golgof– but ery'ne 'ere callz me Grerg," Pausing to sip from his jug, he wiped the forty beer off of his mouth with a massive hand, "Wotchu wanna kno' lil' 'umie?"
"Killteam and if six daemonettes are enough to run it, just for starters." The fake nun said as she fully settled in, idly gesturing for the bartender to get her something light. The wonders of P-Particles, making a little tentacle wiggle as readily comprehensible as a full sentence.
The bartender, a dwarf of some sort with a bejeweled, flowing and
impeccable grey beard (she could see the individual hairs bristle) glared at her a little, before grumbling off to grab her something.
"Kilteam eh? Mmmh, six minis aint quite roight fer Chao' Demonz, yu'l want at leas' anotha' one,'' Tapping the counter, a screen popped out, looking ridiculously small next to his frame, "Eeziest' solve roight dere tho. Yu'l jus' 'ave to register yeself as yer kilteam comandah', an' considrin' yer from Waahframe, reckon yu'l luv it."
"She absolutely will, yeah," A hand fell on her head, patting it fondly, "She went ballistic when she heard about being able to do anime shit."
"Roight, roight…" Humming, he poked his screen with far too large fingers. And was still doing so when the bartender brought her her drink.
"Here's ye drink umgi," it was a tall, fancy glass. The liquid in there was a vivid pink covered in shimmering white froth, "One Thirster's Allure. Also, next time, use yer words. 's more polite."
If the last part was supposed to be a rebuke. It was hard to tell, since he grumbled it with no real heat before walking off to serve a table with eight rainbow-wizards that all looked off their rocker.
"Will do, elder." She replied on gut instinct before the man was out of earshot, happily swirling the drink to get the scent wafting up to her.
It smelled pink, somehow. Like someone had taken the concepts of the colour and turned it into a particularly pleasant smell. She could also tell that it was fairly boozy, though not to the point of being a hard cocktail. Most likely more in line with a lighter proofed tiki drink if she were to guess.
"Too wayz I tink dis can go," The giant ended up saying, turning back to her, "So forst– oo' Slaanesh' drin' not a bad choice! Anyhoo' forst, yu can be a foightah. Loike… uuuh… 'elp me dere dood."
"Hm?" Looking at Greg's screen, Ervoan took a second to see where the green man was going, "Ah. Right, so option A. You go for an ungah-bungah leader, think Valkyr. Lots of murder, most, if not all, at melee range with some actual shooting sprinkled in– but only because you're the leader. In case you're wondering, that's basically what I went with. Option B, which I get the feeling you'll do instead, congratulations Galatea."
Slapping a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a thumbs up and what would probably have been a 'winning' smile if not for the full face helmet, "Yer a wizerd!"
"You know I main Ember and Nidus." She snorted as she took a sip of her drink, her eyebrows lifting pleasantly as the taste hit. Sweet, velvety mouthfeel, just enough burn. "Gimme."
"Psykah, eh? Dat makes tings a bit more complicated…" "Eh, not really. Just send her the package with everything in it. She'll figure out what she wants from there."
Sure enough, the fake nun received a DM with an attachment. Opening it revealed a fairly large assortment of numbers, words and datasheets, "So basically, you get mind bullets, and you can fire them until you either explode or make the Man In The Wall knock at your door. It's your soul, the door is your soul and he kicks it down to get out of the Void."
"But wouldn't I be in league with the things trying to crawl up reality's asshole?" Galatea asked with a frown nobody could see, compensating with a quizzical tilt of her head. "No need to rip up my soul when I'm opening a portal and rolling out the red carpet."
"Eeeeeh," They both made a so-so wave of their hand, "Depends on how much they like you honestly. If you're valuable, they won't. If you're not? Then you're more valuable as something to get inside of, and then explosively leave."
"...Bit short-sighted, aren't they?" She muttered, sipping from her drink with just a touch of grouch. Ah, well, not everyone could be terrifyingly competent like the Steel Legion. "Unless a psyker turned inside out becomes a stable portal like DOOM gore nests."
"Chaos is more or less a self-sustaining engine of stupid. The gods are all inherently self destructive, Khorne is the god of war, murder, slaughter and martial might. To worship him is to doom yourself to unending slaughter, think doomguy, if doomguy wasn't a very lost Paladin. Tzeentch is the god of knowledge, change, fate, magic and secretive ploys. By worshipping him, you become privy to the currents of fate– but also doom yourself to become unable to see past it. 'All according to Keikaku' kind of guy, including nervous breakdown once these plans get ruined by an unseen variable," As the frenchie started to explain the ins and outs of the faction she'd nominally decided to join, she felt as if something encroached on her. A cold creeping dread that wormed its way into her heart, gripping it and squeezing, "Nurgle is the god of stagnation, decay, apathy and stability. He, his daemons and worshippers are vectors of the worst plagues imaginable, but just as their bodies decay, they are filled with unnatural life that ensures they'll never die from the afflictions they see as a gift from their kind and caring grandfather. And finally Slaanesh is– okay. Whoever is doing it, you know the rules and so do I. No psyker shenanigans in the bar."
Interrupting his description with a sigh, he turned to look at the assembled patrons, giving them a flat glare.
Three of them, their clothes coloured green, blue and red, immediately looked away like they hadn't been doing anything wrong as the sensation receded from Galatea, "Javis…"
"Wha– oh come on!" A completely different guy scoffed, his clothes were fairly drab, but covered in seals and double headed eagles, "i was just helping set the mood! You know we're missing a Slaanesh player!"
"Rules are rules lad," The stocky bartender grumbled with a withering glaze, "No psyker powers near the counter. It makes the spirits jumpy."
Suitably chastised, the boy mumbled out a "Sorry…"
"Well, happy to know I'm wanted." Galatea chuckled, taking a long chug of her drink to wash out the lingering unease. "Now, what about Slaneesh?"
"Oh, non-binary deity of sex, drugs and rock and roll," Chuckling he expanded on this, "More seriously, their entire thing is excess, pleasure and I think secrets for some reason? Their greater daemons are called 'Keepers of Secrets'. They also love to eat Eldar souls, the race that accidentally murder-fucked it into existance."
"So Iron Tyrants, pretty much?" The fake nun asked, not put off in the slightest. Sounded like a good time, not often games let you have that sort of fun without being built from the ground up for it ala Slavemaker.
"Lots more sex and depravity, but not far off the mark, yeah. Your gals are minor daemons of that god, so for now let's assume you'll go with that. Now," Looking over her shoulder, he began guiding her through the documents, "Since you're going psyker, you'll need to select some psyker powers…"
The seams of her mouth ripped open as she saw the very first category. "Biomancy, you say?"
And now we're at the start of the big 40k section!
Hopefully the fact that 40k was around as a game was decently set up, and to no one's surprise, Ni picked Slaneesh for his army. So expect some Horny on Main!
At this time, nothing explicit has been written and there's no plans for that either. At least beside passing mentions of it happening in the background.