Waltzing in a Mechsuit: a Sci-fi Mercenary Quest
- Thread starter I.F. Ister
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Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Alrighty, voting is now closed, thank you all for voting
Our winner:
[X] Go left, to the Bridge with 5 votes
Our winner:
[X] Go left, to the Bridge with 5 votes
Last edited:
Searching the Bridge
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
"We're going left." You lead the team towards the Bridge.
You and the security guards float through the darkened halls, with the power out, gravity's gone with it. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, illuminating the hallways in brief swathes of light. This isn't your first time in an abandoned ship, but the feeling never changes. There's something… almost disturbing about wandering through spaces where people once worked, finding nothing but discarded tools and unfinished ideas as the only evidence that they ever even existed.
Your flashlight, in the eerie darkness, drifts as you follow the hallway. The beam of light landing on a floating, asphyxiated corpse. You grimace as one of the guards behind you mutters a prayer, asphyxiation's a nasty way to go for anyone, no matter their affiliation. Behind the drifting body, your light lands an open door, the words 'Bridge' written over it in a blocky, militaristic typeface. Looks like you've found the Bridge.
Slowly drifting into the room, you keep your pistol at the ready, though you don't think that there's any other living thing, besides you and the guards, on the ship right now.
It's dark, just like the rest of the ship, it's also very dirty. You suspect that they didn't have much of a janitor or cleaning crew aboard. Dirty dishes that were once stacked high on consoles, garbage floating above formerly overflowing trash cans, crude graffiti written on whatever flat surfaces were available, and screens that look to not have been wiped down in years. You keep away from the odd, nondescript stains on the objects littering the room as you take it in.
"Carlo." You call up the more technologically aware member of the team. He pulls himself up, holding a rifle to his shoulder. "Can you take a look at these consoles, see if there's any way to remotely turn the power on?"
Carlo nods, staying silent as you've learned he prefers as he pulls himself to a console. He begins poking at it as you and the rest of the team explore the bridge.
(Search Roll DC 60,90: 82+10(Knowledge (Crime))=92, double success)
You grimace, elbows deep in a floating pile of trash, digging through it for anything that could be of use. Papers, notes, transcripts, all and any of those would be valuable right now. Unfortunately, you don't find anything of worth in the can, well, nothing of value unless you wanted the remnants of a dehydrated apple.
Drawing away from the detritus, you pause as something flashes on and off in the corner of your eye. Focusing on it, you draw yourself closer with furrowed brows, and discover that it's… something of value!
The object is a black, wafer-sized, and circular device, with a red, blinking light in the 'corner'. You flip it around in your hand, examining it from every angle. You rack your memories, trying to figure out what this could be.
(Knowledge (Technology) Roll DC 60: 49, failure)
…Yeah, you've got nothing. Maybe someone else will know about it?
-[ ] Ask Janna about it, when you next get the chance
-[ ] Ask someone else
--[ ] Write in
Well, in the meantime, you'd best check in with the rest, see how they're doing.
(Search Roll DC 60,90: 50+10=60, bare success)
<Fond shomething, bossh.> Anders checks in, accent as thick as ever. He's holding up a hastily scrawled note. You give him a nod as you accept the paper.
"Good job, Anders." You read the note. Your eyes scan through line after scrawled line, your eyebrows rising to the highest they can go. "Good fucking work indeed."
(+1 Intel (Pirates))
After finishing up with searching the room, you turn your attention to Carlo, who was staring at the console, searching through the menus as the screen gave off a soft green light. He had pried off the panel and flicked on the internal back-up battery.
"I'm assuming that since power's not back on, you can't turn it on from here." You state, arms crossed as you float over his shoulder.
He nods.
"Do you know where the generator is?" You ask in hope, it might be too much to ask of a bunch of pirates to keep a good map around, but who knows?
He nods again, pointing at the screen. A path blinks into existence, showing you the route.
"Alright. Good job, Carlo." He grins, a pair of thumbs pointing towards the ceiling.
Now, who to send to go turn on the generators? (Pick two)
-[ ] You, better see to this yourself
-[ ] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick
-[ ] Anders, a scrounging guy tends to be good at finding things
-[ ] Konra, she's got a big gun and knows how to use it
-[ ] Gary, a sneaky guy who can slip through just about anything
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Very sorry that this one was so late and so short. I woke up quite late in the day and got distracted when the muses hit me over the head with another idea I just had to start outlining. Voting will be called on monday at 4 PM CST, as you don't have a lot of time today to vote.
Q: What is Intel?
A: It's a currency you can use to give you a +10 bonus to a related roll, another option in a related situation, knowledge of related things, or you can sell it to an information broker. For example, for Intel (Pirates) you could spend a point to give you that edge in a duel as you recognize the markings on the enemy MBF from a document you read. You could spend it while planning an assault on a pirate base to learn of a secret entrance. You could use it while being held at gunpoint to ransom yourself. Intel can be used for all this and more.
You and the security guards float through the darkened halls, with the power out, gravity's gone with it. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, illuminating the hallways in brief swathes of light. This isn't your first time in an abandoned ship, but the feeling never changes. There's something… almost disturbing about wandering through spaces where people once worked, finding nothing but discarded tools and unfinished ideas as the only evidence that they ever even existed.
Your flashlight, in the eerie darkness, drifts as you follow the hallway. The beam of light landing on a floating, asphyxiated corpse. You grimace as one of the guards behind you mutters a prayer, asphyxiation's a nasty way to go for anyone, no matter their affiliation. Behind the drifting body, your light lands an open door, the words 'Bridge' written over it in a blocky, militaristic typeface. Looks like you've found the Bridge.
Slowly drifting into the room, you keep your pistol at the ready, though you don't think that there's any other living thing, besides you and the guards, on the ship right now.
It's dark, just like the rest of the ship, it's also very dirty. You suspect that they didn't have much of a janitor or cleaning crew aboard. Dirty dishes that were once stacked high on consoles, garbage floating above formerly overflowing trash cans, crude graffiti written on whatever flat surfaces were available, and screens that look to not have been wiped down in years. You keep away from the odd, nondescript stains on the objects littering the room as you take it in.
"Carlo." You call up the more technologically aware member of the team. He pulls himself up, holding a rifle to his shoulder. "Can you take a look at these consoles, see if there's any way to remotely turn the power on?"
Carlo nods, staying silent as you've learned he prefers as he pulls himself to a console. He begins poking at it as you and the rest of the team explore the bridge.
(Search Roll DC 60,90: 82+10(Knowledge (Crime))=92, double success)
You grimace, elbows deep in a floating pile of trash, digging through it for anything that could be of use. Papers, notes, transcripts, all and any of those would be valuable right now. Unfortunately, you don't find anything of worth in the can, well, nothing of value unless you wanted the remnants of a dehydrated apple.
Drawing away from the detritus, you pause as something flashes on and off in the corner of your eye. Focusing on it, you draw yourself closer with furrowed brows, and discover that it's… something of value!
The object is a black, wafer-sized, and circular device, with a red, blinking light in the 'corner'. You flip it around in your hand, examining it from every angle. You rack your memories, trying to figure out what this could be.
(Knowledge (Technology) Roll DC 60: 49, failure)
…Yeah, you've got nothing. Maybe someone else will know about it?
-[ ] Ask Janna about it, when you next get the chance
-[ ] Ask someone else
--[ ] Write in
Well, in the meantime, you'd best check in with the rest, see how they're doing.
(Search Roll DC 60,90: 50+10=60, bare success)
<Fond shomething, bossh.> Anders checks in, accent as thick as ever. He's holding up a hastily scrawled note. You give him a nod as you accept the paper.
"Good job, Anders." You read the note. Your eyes scan through line after scrawled line, your eyebrows rising to the highest they can go. "Good fucking work indeed."
(+1 Intel (Pirates))
After finishing up with searching the room, you turn your attention to Carlo, who was staring at the console, searching through the menus as the screen gave off a soft green light. He had pried off the panel and flicked on the internal back-up battery.
"I'm assuming that since power's not back on, you can't turn it on from here." You state, arms crossed as you float over his shoulder.
He nods.
"Do you know where the generator is?" You ask in hope, it might be too much to ask of a bunch of pirates to keep a good map around, but who knows?
He nods again, pointing at the screen. A path blinks into existence, showing you the route.
"Alright. Good job, Carlo." He grins, a pair of thumbs pointing towards the ceiling.
Now, who to send to go turn on the generators? (Pick two)
-[ ] You, better see to this yourself
-[ ] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick
-[ ] Anders, a scrounging guy tends to be good at finding things
-[ ] Konra, she's got a big gun and knows how to use it
-[ ] Gary, a sneaky guy who can slip through just about anything
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Very sorry that this one was so late and so short. I woke up quite late in the day and got distracted when the muses hit me over the head with another idea I just had to start outlining. Voting will be called on monday at 4 PM CST, as you don't have a lot of time today to vote.
Q: What is Intel?
A: It's a currency you can use to give you a +10 bonus to a related roll, another option in a related situation, knowledge of related things, or you can sell it to an information broker. For example, for Intel (Pirates) you could spend a point to give you that edge in a duel as you recognize the markings on the enemy MBF from a document you read. You could spend it while planning an assault on a pirate base to learn of a secret entrance. You could use it while being held at gunpoint to ransom yourself. Intel can be used for all this and more.
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Ask Janna about it, when you next get the chance
[X] You, better see to this yourself
[X] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick
[X] You, better see to this yourself
[X] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Alrighty, everyone, voting is now closed. Thank you for voting everybody!
Our winners:
[X] Ask Janna about it, when you next get the chance with 5 votes
[X] You, better see to this yourself with 3 votes
[X] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick with 5 votes
Our winners:
[X] Ask Janna about it, when you next get the chance with 5 votes
[X] You, better see to this yourself with 3 votes
[X] Carlo, a technology guy is a good pick with 5 votes
Turning on the Power
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Carlo is, like always, dead silent as you drift through the desolate halls, the emptiness leering out at you. You pass open door after open door, abandoned room after abandoned room, empty hallway after empty hallway as you follow the glowing line in your HUD.
(Knowledge (General Science) Roll DC 55: 61, success)
The engines and generators are oftentimes the same thing, with deployable solar panels making up the difference. The fuel source for nearly all space-faring vessels is Metallic Hydrogen, the only ones that don't use it are small craft, too small to fit a proper M-Hydrogen Storage Unit. Metallic Hydrogen is an incredibly valuable resource only naturally found in a few places with extremely high pressure. One of those places is Jupiter, deep in its atmosphere.
The reason M-Hydrogen is so valuable is that it is what facilitates space travel on a reasonable timescale. Instead of taking months upon months to reach Mars from Earth, like the distant past, a M-Hydrogen burning vessel can make the trip in two days with change. One day is spent accelerating and the other is spent decelerating.
Of course, this isn't without dangers as M-Hydrogen burns hotter than the surface of the sun, requiring highly robust heat dissipating systems to use in any real capacity. Nowadays the heat is collected and used to generate electricity, powering the ship along with whatever is hooked up to it, like an MBF.
Taking out the heat dissipating systems on a ship will result in one of two things occurring. One, the ship shuts down. Two, the ship melts itself into slag. Shooting out the engine torches will accomplish similar things as taking out the heat dissipators, if the crew doesn't want to turn the ship into a couple hundred meter long oven, they'll shut down their engines. Like the crew of the pirate ship.
Of course, back-up generators exist and come standard on most ships. These are often in the form of large power cells, so they're more back-up batteries than generators, but to most people there's not much difference unless you're running a high-performance power-suckler like an MBF or combat vessel. If you are then you know the difference between a battery and a generator.
(Knowledge (Ship) Roll DC 55: 20, failure)
You stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly what class of ship this is, but nothing comes to mind. That's unfortunate, you grimace as you drift into the engine room, it would have been very useful to know the capabilities of this ship, in the off-chance that you will have to use it. Though, it might not be the brightest of ideas to ride around in a pirate ship. Who knows what things this ship's been a part of and who logged its IFF signature. That would be pretty sucky, to fix it up and then get slagged 'cause some trigger-happy grunt recognized an IFF and nuked your ass.
Ah whatever, it's time to turn the back-ups on.
The power room is probably the most maintained part of the ship, save, potentially, the captain's cabin. Judging from what you've seen, you reckon that the crew weren't very experienced starsailors. Pirates, generally, are crews that used to be part of something else. Freighters, mercenaries, even the occasional soldier, all of them can source pirates. Disgruntled crew members decide that the only option is to take matters into their own hands and mutiny, taking over the ship and turning to piracy. To find a ship in this condition, even when crewed by pirates, is concerning.
Carlo drifts in first, followed by you. The power room is a modest thing, as far as these things go. A small control room, more a control booth, really, comes into view immediately as you enter. A small selection of panels is in there, an internal battery powering the softly glowing lights as they blink on and off in patterns.
The room extends quite a distance deep, with two rectangular shaped rows following the walls. These are the power banks of the ship, where excess power is stored and used.
Carlo pokes his head out from the booth, beckoning you inside. He points at the console, specifically at a button in the center, big, round, and red. With a 'hold on' gesture, he leaves you in the booth.
Carlo is a big guy with big muscles coiled tightly underneath bronzed skin, covered in small scars. The scars grow more bunched up around his hands and wrists, his fingers more scar-tissue than skin. His palms are heavily calloused, evidence of a life of hard work and heavy lifting.
He flips open the access panel, unsecured like the careless pirates that the previous crew were. He flips switches, presses buttons, hooks up wires, the works.
(Knowledge (Shipside Technology) Roll DC 40: 23+10=33, failure…)
Finally, after several minutes, he gives you a thumbs up.
With a grin, you smash your hand down on the big, red button.
With a shudder, the batteries start glowing, power coursing through the machine. Carlo gives it a concerned look, pushing away from the twinned machines as they start rattling. He shoots you a wide-eyed stare as he swings into the booth, tackling you as he does.
You glare at him, opening your mouth to demand what the hell's going on as you push him off, when the lights flicker. Once, twice, before they flicker one final time. Like the bells of hell they ring.
And explode, showering sparks and glass out in a weightless plume.
You look up and around, taking in the absolutely fucked batteries, scorched and smoking black clouds.
Well, shit.
Well, you've found yourselves in a bitch of a pickle. You think you might've busted the entire electrical system of the ship.
What's your next move? What can you even do?
-[ ] Just grab what you can from the cargo bay
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Damn, that was a fucking bad roll, ouch. Votes will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
(Knowledge (General Science) Roll DC 55: 61, success)
The engines and generators are oftentimes the same thing, with deployable solar panels making up the difference. The fuel source for nearly all space-faring vessels is Metallic Hydrogen, the only ones that don't use it are small craft, too small to fit a proper M-Hydrogen Storage Unit. Metallic Hydrogen is an incredibly valuable resource only naturally found in a few places with extremely high pressure. One of those places is Jupiter, deep in its atmosphere.
The reason M-Hydrogen is so valuable is that it is what facilitates space travel on a reasonable timescale. Instead of taking months upon months to reach Mars from Earth, like the distant past, a M-Hydrogen burning vessel can make the trip in two days with change. One day is spent accelerating and the other is spent decelerating.
Of course, this isn't without dangers as M-Hydrogen burns hotter than the surface of the sun, requiring highly robust heat dissipating systems to use in any real capacity. Nowadays the heat is collected and used to generate electricity, powering the ship along with whatever is hooked up to it, like an MBF.
Taking out the heat dissipating systems on a ship will result in one of two things occurring. One, the ship shuts down. Two, the ship melts itself into slag. Shooting out the engine torches will accomplish similar things as taking out the heat dissipators, if the crew doesn't want to turn the ship into a couple hundred meter long oven, they'll shut down their engines. Like the crew of the pirate ship.
Of course, back-up generators exist and come standard on most ships. These are often in the form of large power cells, so they're more back-up batteries than generators, but to most people there's not much difference unless you're running a high-performance power-suckler like an MBF or combat vessel. If you are then you know the difference between a battery and a generator.
(Knowledge (Ship) Roll DC 55: 20, failure)
You stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly what class of ship this is, but nothing comes to mind. That's unfortunate, you grimace as you drift into the engine room, it would have been very useful to know the capabilities of this ship, in the off-chance that you will have to use it. Though, it might not be the brightest of ideas to ride around in a pirate ship. Who knows what things this ship's been a part of and who logged its IFF signature. That would be pretty sucky, to fix it up and then get slagged 'cause some trigger-happy grunt recognized an IFF and nuked your ass.
Ah whatever, it's time to turn the back-ups on.
The power room is probably the most maintained part of the ship, save, potentially, the captain's cabin. Judging from what you've seen, you reckon that the crew weren't very experienced starsailors. Pirates, generally, are crews that used to be part of something else. Freighters, mercenaries, even the occasional soldier, all of them can source pirates. Disgruntled crew members decide that the only option is to take matters into their own hands and mutiny, taking over the ship and turning to piracy. To find a ship in this condition, even when crewed by pirates, is concerning.
Carlo drifts in first, followed by you. The power room is a modest thing, as far as these things go. A small control room, more a control booth, really, comes into view immediately as you enter. A small selection of panels is in there, an internal battery powering the softly glowing lights as they blink on and off in patterns.
The room extends quite a distance deep, with two rectangular shaped rows following the walls. These are the power banks of the ship, where excess power is stored and used.
Carlo pokes his head out from the booth, beckoning you inside. He points at the console, specifically at a button in the center, big, round, and red. With a 'hold on' gesture, he leaves you in the booth.
Carlo is a big guy with big muscles coiled tightly underneath bronzed skin, covered in small scars. The scars grow more bunched up around his hands and wrists, his fingers more scar-tissue than skin. His palms are heavily calloused, evidence of a life of hard work and heavy lifting.
He flips open the access panel, unsecured like the careless pirates that the previous crew were. He flips switches, presses buttons, hooks up wires, the works.
(Knowledge (Shipside Technology) Roll DC 40: 23+10=33, failure…)
Finally, after several minutes, he gives you a thumbs up.
With a grin, you smash your hand down on the big, red button.
With a shudder, the batteries start glowing, power coursing through the machine. Carlo gives it a concerned look, pushing away from the twinned machines as they start rattling. He shoots you a wide-eyed stare as he swings into the booth, tackling you as he does.
You glare at him, opening your mouth to demand what the hell's going on as you push him off, when the lights flicker. Once, twice, before they flicker one final time. Like the bells of hell they ring.
And explode, showering sparks and glass out in a weightless plume.
You look up and around, taking in the absolutely fucked batteries, scorched and smoking black clouds.
Well, shit.
Well, you've found yourselves in a bitch of a pickle. You think you might've busted the entire electrical system of the ship.
What's your next move? What can you even do?
-[ ] Just grab what you can from the cargo bay
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Damn, that was a fucking bad roll, ouch. Votes will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Just grab what you can from the cargo bay
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Alrighty, votes are now closed and thank you for voting!
Our winners:
[X] Grab what you can from the cargo bay
-[X] "If someone asks, can we agree that this shit was like this when we got here?" with 3 votes
Our winners:
[X] Grab what you can from the cargo bay
-[X] "If someone asks, can we agree that this shit was like this when we got here?" with 3 votes
Looting Cargo and Leaving the Ship
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
"If somebody asks, it was like it when we got here, right?" You ask the combined security team as you float in the cargo bay. After the electrical system blitzed itself, you'd decided to just crack the cargo bay and grab what you can. Surely they had some good stuff in there, parts at the very least.
The cargo bay was a large room, likely the largest room on the ship, seeing as this was a former freighter and all. It had rows upon rows of vertically stacked shelves, crates and containers dotting the racks. Mechanical, robotic arms hang from the ceiling, roaming around on predetermined tracks. They descend from the heights to grab crates with their magclamps, bringing them to the proper destination. Of course, with the power out, they're nothing more than a vaguely robotic decorative piece.
Carlo shakes his head, his head held in his hands. "It was my fault." He whispers, a hoarse, hissing thing. It's nearly inaudible from how soft it is. "I screwed up."
Anders pats his suit-covered shoulder, giving him a supportive look. "Thish ishn't te end, we will recover from thish." Carlo doesn't say anything, just floating there with an empty, downtrodden stare.
You can respect the willingness to take responsibility for his actions, but right now you need to get to work. Any consequences or punishments can come later, there's work to be done now. "Start cracking open crates, everyone, we might as well get something from this venture." Besides that device, of course. You'll have to check with Janna about it, see if she can recognize it.
Carlo lifts his head, giving a shallow nod as they get to work. You return it, picking up a pry bar and setting to work.
(Your Loot Roll: 91)
One of the nearby crates catches your eye. It's a large cube, coming up to about your hips, it's made of blue-painted metal with "PROPERTY OF THE S.U.N." and "AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY" stamped on the sides. Obviously something of some use to you, especially given the crown of stars over a golden shield, insignias of the Solar Union Navy, covering it.
Planting the pry bar into the creases, you heave with all your might, the pneumatic head of the bar doing work as it wrenches the cover off with, if you were in atmosphere, a squeal of twisting metal.
Your eyebrows ascend to the top of your head as you look at the military grade system lying within. That's… a Mil-Grade Targeting Computer! A piece of hardware like that is a boon to any organization, let alone a fledgeling group like yours. It looks like this one was built by Ad Astra, the go-to corporation for the SU's MBF needs. It's also highly illegal in SU space, unless you have the necessary licenses, of course, which are a bitch and a half to get.
(Gary Loot Roll: 59)
(Konra Loot Roll: 42)
(Anders Loot Roll: 25)
(Carlo Loot Roll: 100, bro, Carlo, what are your rolls???)
The others find other things, like basic parts and supplies, both of the medical and ration variety. A couple containers carrying Martian Spices, valuable stuff. You could sell it off and earn quite the pretty penny.
However, Carlo makes a discovery that shocks you to your core.
A chill runs up and down your spine as he leads you to the thing he found. Your mouth feels dry as you round the corner and lay eyes on his find. Hanging from the wall, held up by makeshift scaffolding, is a half-built MBF, a MI/Sniper, with all the parts needed to finish it nearby.
The Sniper is Mechano-Industries' only high-tier MBF and it shows that, if they wanted to sacrifice their profits, they could easily build truly high quality machines. It is a machine that lives up to its name. It stays out of the traditional engagement range and uses its advanced systems to track and kill enemy MBFs with its Plasma Long-Cannon, which also serves as an anti-fightercraft weapon in the right situation. Up close it has a pair of SMGs, both ballistic, and a Heat Sword, which, paired with its speed, makes it a dangerous opponent to fight against. Of course, it is very expensive to purchase and maintain, but in the right circumstances…
Well, snipers, both the soldier and the MBF, are a rather dangerous foe to fight.
Getting the Sniper out of there will require MBF assistance, as will the rest of the cargo. The cargo doors are as scuffed as De's knees, thanks to a combination of the electrical system failing and the weapons of the late David's Horn. But that's not that much of a problem.
"Good fucking job there, Carlo." You clap a happy hand on his shoulder as he gives you a hopeful look. "Good fucking job indeed."
Is Carlo off the hook for the electrical failure?
-[ ] Yes
-[ ] No
(Gain AA Targeting Computer (+5 to Combat Rolls))
(Gain a Half-Built MI/Sniper and enough parts to finish it)
(Gain 6 more days of supplies)
~~~~~~~
(??? Resolve Roll DC 60: 67, success)
You're in the airlock, with the rest of the team as it's cycling. You're not entirely sure what it's cycling, not exactly any air in the pirate ship, but it is what it is.
The door unseals and gives you away to space.
And that's when your blood chills in your veins.
Outside, floating in the void of space, is the damaged Lancer from earlier today. Its lance is clamped to its back and its battered hands are spread out to its sides. It doesn't seem to want to fight, but it has you at an extreme disadvantage all the same.
It doesn't seem hostile, but who knows. You did just kick its ass and kill a bunch of its friends, if you were in that pilot's seat, you'd probably just kill them and be done with it.
It's just sitting there.
What do you do?
-[ ] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one.
-[ ] Fuck it, it's an unknown and unknowns get people killed. Kill it before it kills you.
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: I suppose that Carlo has redeemed himself now, lmao. Votes will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
I'm getting a lot of wind where I live, like, +80 Mph winds, so that's nice.
The cargo bay was a large room, likely the largest room on the ship, seeing as this was a former freighter and all. It had rows upon rows of vertically stacked shelves, crates and containers dotting the racks. Mechanical, robotic arms hang from the ceiling, roaming around on predetermined tracks. They descend from the heights to grab crates with their magclamps, bringing them to the proper destination. Of course, with the power out, they're nothing more than a vaguely robotic decorative piece.
Carlo shakes his head, his head held in his hands. "It was my fault." He whispers, a hoarse, hissing thing. It's nearly inaudible from how soft it is. "I screwed up."
Anders pats his suit-covered shoulder, giving him a supportive look. "Thish ishn't te end, we will recover from thish." Carlo doesn't say anything, just floating there with an empty, downtrodden stare.
You can respect the willingness to take responsibility for his actions, but right now you need to get to work. Any consequences or punishments can come later, there's work to be done now. "Start cracking open crates, everyone, we might as well get something from this venture." Besides that device, of course. You'll have to check with Janna about it, see if she can recognize it.
Carlo lifts his head, giving a shallow nod as they get to work. You return it, picking up a pry bar and setting to work.
(Your Loot Roll: 91)
One of the nearby crates catches your eye. It's a large cube, coming up to about your hips, it's made of blue-painted metal with "PROPERTY OF THE S.U.N." and "AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY" stamped on the sides. Obviously something of some use to you, especially given the crown of stars over a golden shield, insignias of the Solar Union Navy, covering it.
Planting the pry bar into the creases, you heave with all your might, the pneumatic head of the bar doing work as it wrenches the cover off with, if you were in atmosphere, a squeal of twisting metal.
Your eyebrows ascend to the top of your head as you look at the military grade system lying within. That's… a Mil-Grade Targeting Computer! A piece of hardware like that is a boon to any organization, let alone a fledgeling group like yours. It looks like this one was built by Ad Astra, the go-to corporation for the SU's MBF needs. It's also highly illegal in SU space, unless you have the necessary licenses, of course, which are a bitch and a half to get.
(Gary Loot Roll: 59)
(Konra Loot Roll: 42)
(Anders Loot Roll: 25)
(Carlo Loot Roll: 100, bro, Carlo, what are your rolls???)
The others find other things, like basic parts and supplies, both of the medical and ration variety. A couple containers carrying Martian Spices, valuable stuff. You could sell it off and earn quite the pretty penny.
However, Carlo makes a discovery that shocks you to your core.
A chill runs up and down your spine as he leads you to the thing he found. Your mouth feels dry as you round the corner and lay eyes on his find. Hanging from the wall, held up by makeshift scaffolding, is a half-built MBF, a MI/Sniper, with all the parts needed to finish it nearby.
The Sniper is Mechano-Industries' only high-tier MBF and it shows that, if they wanted to sacrifice their profits, they could easily build truly high quality machines. It is a machine that lives up to its name. It stays out of the traditional engagement range and uses its advanced systems to track and kill enemy MBFs with its Plasma Long-Cannon, which also serves as an anti-fightercraft weapon in the right situation. Up close it has a pair of SMGs, both ballistic, and a Heat Sword, which, paired with its speed, makes it a dangerous opponent to fight against. Of course, it is very expensive to purchase and maintain, but in the right circumstances…
Well, snipers, both the soldier and the MBF, are a rather dangerous foe to fight.
Getting the Sniper out of there will require MBF assistance, as will the rest of the cargo. The cargo doors are as scuffed as De's knees, thanks to a combination of the electrical system failing and the weapons of the late David's Horn. But that's not that much of a problem.
"Good fucking job there, Carlo." You clap a happy hand on his shoulder as he gives you a hopeful look. "Good fucking job indeed."
Is Carlo off the hook for the electrical failure?
-[ ] Yes
-[ ] No
(Gain AA Targeting Computer (+5 to Combat Rolls))
(Gain a Half-Built MI/Sniper and enough parts to finish it)
(Gain 6 more days of supplies)
~~~~~~~
(??? Resolve Roll DC 60: 67, success)
You're in the airlock, with the rest of the team as it's cycling. You're not entirely sure what it's cycling, not exactly any air in the pirate ship, but it is what it is.
The door unseals and gives you away to space.
And that's when your blood chills in your veins.
Outside, floating in the void of space, is the damaged Lancer from earlier today. Its lance is clamped to its back and its battered hands are spread out to its sides. It doesn't seem to want to fight, but it has you at an extreme disadvantage all the same.
It doesn't seem hostile, but who knows. You did just kick its ass and kill a bunch of its friends, if you were in that pilot's seat, you'd probably just kill them and be done with it.
It's just sitting there.
What do you do?
-[ ] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one.
-[ ] Fuck it, it's an unknown and unknowns get people killed. Kill it before it kills you.
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: I suppose that Carlo has redeemed himself now, lmao. Votes will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
I'm getting a lot of wind where I live, like, +80 Mph winds, so that's nice.
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Yes
[X] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one.
[X] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one.
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Alrighty, everyone, voting is now closed and thank you for voting!
Our winners:
[X] Yes with 8 votes
[X] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one. with 8 votes
Our winners:
[X] Yes with 8 votes
[X] Send out an open comms call, if it wants a chat, you'll give it one. with 8 votes
Opening the Comms
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Your team is behind you, frozen in place as you stare up at the Lancer. The most striking feature of the Lancer is its missing leg, blown off by you in battle. The Lancer is all hard angles and protrusions shaped, like much of Ad Astra's machines, like knight armor. The head, with a 'brow' jutting out into a sharp point, stares down at you.
With great trepidation, you key your communicator and broadcast on an open channel.
Heartbeats of silence stretch on forever as you wait for the Lancer's pilot to accept the ping.
Then, just as you begin to lose hope and make peace with death, the channel kicks open and a burst of static has you wincing.
"Ah, hello?" A young, male voice greets you through the static obfuscation. He sounds cautious and on edge, as if he's ready to bolt at any sign of danger. Which does make sense, as last time you fought you took his leg off and had him dead to rights. And also winning a fight while outnumbered three to one without a single pilot casualty.
"Hello." You return the greeting. He sounds really young, for an MBF pilot.
"Uh," he begins, an awkward lilt to his voice, "can you say again?"
You raise your eyebrows as whatever tension you might have felt slowly drains from your body. "Hello." You say again, trying to speak clearer.
"Hello, right?" He sighs, relieved at your confirmation. "Sorry, your accent is… kinda hard to understand."
You frown, it's not that bad, is it? It sounds okay to you and not that many people complained about it. Still, regardless, you'll try to speak clearer, if only for the sake of not pissing off the man in the MBF.
"That's fine." An awkward silence stretches between you.
"Uh, you pilot a Corsair?" The Lancer's pilot tries some small talk. "I-it's a pretty cool MBF."
"Yeah, kid, I pilot a Corsair. And yeah, it is a pretty cool MBF." You shoot a look at the man next to you, Gary, who shrugs in response. "I see you've got a Lancer. A real quick machine, that."
The kid seems to verbally brighten up. "Yeah! I was given it after we… raided…" He trails off mid sentence, growing self aware. "Uh, I recently have had an enlightening encounter and have decided to change my ways."
"I get it, kid." Not the becoming a pirate part, more the enlightening encounter side of it. You weren't always this calm and collected. "Why are you here?"
"Oh!" Realization dawns as he's reminded why he's here. "I, uh, wanted… to…" His voice softens as he drops off.
"You wanted to what?" You question, feeling vaguely exasperated with this situation as a whole.
"I, uh," he says something, but it's too quiet to hear through the static.
"Kid, you gotta speak up." You prod him.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before launching into his speech. "I wanted to…" He breathes out and in. "I wanted to… seeifyouhadroomforanotherpilot!" And then, suddenly, a pile of word vomit splattered out from his mouth, beginning with a trickle and then all at once.
It takes you a moment to parse through the waterfall of words, but you think you've got it. "You want to join us?" The Lancer's head nods in lieu of a proper response.
"Well…"
-[ ] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon.
-[ ] Don't take him on. That past of his makes your skin itch.
~~~~~~~
POV: Jasin Smitty
The young pilot of the Lancer, Jasin Smitty, sits in his cockpit, staring at the unmanned Corsair floating outside the airlock to the Grease Rag.
That Corsair, or rather, the Corsair's pilot, is the cause of his current worries. It's still, for the most part, intact while his own Lancer is more a flying piece of scrap than a combat ready machine. If it came down to a fight, he's near certain that he'd die.
He's still not sure why he's even doing this. The risks far outweigh the potential rewards. His life is on the line here! …not that he has much other choice, what with him being left here by the Harg'marin!
He's not bitter, he's not bitter at all.
As he's musing on him totally not resenting being abandoned, the airlock door spins and begins opening, powered by the Corsair's power cell.
He can see them, the people who had gone into the ship. He can also see them freeze as they spot him. With his Lancer as non threatening as he can make it, without compromising too much on his safety, he can only hope that they choose to talk. His comms are busted, slight damage in the fight knocked out his ability to send out calls.
Then, impossibly, as his breath quickens, catching in his throat, a comm ping reaches him. He nearly misses the accept button with how shaky his hands are.
"Ah, hello?" He despises how uncertain he sounds right now, how young he must seem to be.
Moments pass and his heart sinks.
"Eyo." A man's voice, thick with an accent Jasin can't quite place, sounds through his busted comms.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Apologies for the very short update, finals are coming up but updates should, should, continue as scheduled. Voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, the Beltborn accent sounds vaguely Australian, with about a quarter of Scottish mixed in with a dash of American West.
With great trepidation, you key your communicator and broadcast on an open channel.
Heartbeats of silence stretch on forever as you wait for the Lancer's pilot to accept the ping.
Then, just as you begin to lose hope and make peace with death, the channel kicks open and a burst of static has you wincing.
"Ah, hello?" A young, male voice greets you through the static obfuscation. He sounds cautious and on edge, as if he's ready to bolt at any sign of danger. Which does make sense, as last time you fought you took his leg off and had him dead to rights. And also winning a fight while outnumbered three to one without a single pilot casualty.
"Hello." You return the greeting. He sounds really young, for an MBF pilot.
"Uh," he begins, an awkward lilt to his voice, "can you say again?"
You raise your eyebrows as whatever tension you might have felt slowly drains from your body. "Hello." You say again, trying to speak clearer.
"Hello, right?" He sighs, relieved at your confirmation. "Sorry, your accent is… kinda hard to understand."
You frown, it's not that bad, is it? It sounds okay to you and not that many people complained about it. Still, regardless, you'll try to speak clearer, if only for the sake of not pissing off the man in the MBF.
"That's fine." An awkward silence stretches between you.
"Uh, you pilot a Corsair?" The Lancer's pilot tries some small talk. "I-it's a pretty cool MBF."
"Yeah, kid, I pilot a Corsair. And yeah, it is a pretty cool MBF." You shoot a look at the man next to you, Gary, who shrugs in response. "I see you've got a Lancer. A real quick machine, that."
The kid seems to verbally brighten up. "Yeah! I was given it after we… raided…" He trails off mid sentence, growing self aware. "Uh, I recently have had an enlightening encounter and have decided to change my ways."
"I get it, kid." Not the becoming a pirate part, more the enlightening encounter side of it. You weren't always this calm and collected. "Why are you here?"
"Oh!" Realization dawns as he's reminded why he's here. "I, uh, wanted… to…" His voice softens as he drops off.
"You wanted to what?" You question, feeling vaguely exasperated with this situation as a whole.
"I, uh," he says something, but it's too quiet to hear through the static.
"Kid, you gotta speak up." You prod him.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before launching into his speech. "I wanted to…" He breathes out and in. "I wanted to… seeifyouhadroomforanotherpilot!" And then, suddenly, a pile of word vomit splattered out from his mouth, beginning with a trickle and then all at once.
It takes you a moment to parse through the waterfall of words, but you think you've got it. "You want to join us?" The Lancer's head nods in lieu of a proper response.
"Well…"
-[ ] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon.
-[ ] Don't take him on. That past of his makes your skin itch.
~~~~~~~
POV: Jasin Smitty
The young pilot of the Lancer, Jasin Smitty, sits in his cockpit, staring at the unmanned Corsair floating outside the airlock to the Grease Rag.
That Corsair, or rather, the Corsair's pilot, is the cause of his current worries. It's still, for the most part, intact while his own Lancer is more a flying piece of scrap than a combat ready machine. If it came down to a fight, he's near certain that he'd die.
He's still not sure why he's even doing this. The risks far outweigh the potential rewards. His life is on the line here! …not that he has much other choice, what with him being left here by the Harg'marin!
He's not bitter, he's not bitter at all.
As he's musing on him totally not resenting being abandoned, the airlock door spins and begins opening, powered by the Corsair's power cell.
He can see them, the people who had gone into the ship. He can also see them freeze as they spot him. With his Lancer as non threatening as he can make it, without compromising too much on his safety, he can only hope that they choose to talk. His comms are busted, slight damage in the fight knocked out his ability to send out calls.
Then, impossibly, as his breath quickens, catching in his throat, a comm ping reaches him. He nearly misses the accept button with how shaky his hands are.
"Ah, hello?" He despises how uncertain he sounds right now, how young he must seem to be.
Moments pass and his heart sinks.
"Eyo." A man's voice, thick with an accent Jasin can't quite place, sounds through his busted comms.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Apologies for the very short update, finals are coming up but updates should, should, continue as scheduled. Voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, the Beltborn accent sounds vaguely Australian, with about a quarter of Scottish mixed in with a dash of American West.
...I think we are a bit accent blind...
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I had so much fun creating Sam's accent, which isn't a proper Beltborn accent as his is an unholy mix of Itari/Statari and Beltborn. Which results in a rather... strange combination. And a 'bit' is a bit of an understatement, lmao. Itari/Statari accents tend to slur words together, moving seamlessly from word to word with subtle fluctuations in pitch and tone while Beltborn have the complete inability to pronounce their 'r's, amongst a lot of other things that I don't care to list right now...I think we are a bit accent blind...
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon.
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Alrighty, voting is now closed and thank you all for voting!
Our winner:
[X] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon. with 4 votes
Our winner:
[X] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon. with 4 votes
Checking on Janna's Progress
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Well, it looks like the power's on. Good work, Janna.
You stretch, lifting your arms high over your head, popping your shoulders as you settle back into gravity. You sigh and yawn, you've had a long day, but it's not over yet.
You glance around the cluttered launch bays from the open cockpit of your Corsair as you pop the seal on a nutrient drink. In total, the Itari ship has six MBF launch bays, located in the middle of the ship in a large, open room containing maintenance scaffolding and equipment.
Currently, four of the six bays are occupied by MBFs. There's the one you're in, with your Corsair, Kellow's thrashed Thunder, which has Janna clambering all over it, that half-built Sniper, its parts stacked around it in big, somewhat organized, piles, and Smitty's Lancer, containing the nervous pilot within.
Smitty is currently… a bit apprehensive of the whole situation. After all, you had been shooting at each other half a day ago, trying earnestly to kill each other. And he was part of the crew that killed the Horn…
You'll have to help out with that. You sigh, today just keeps getting better and better.
Janna hops down from the Thunder's foot, hauling a chunk of melted armor onto the tower leaning against the wall. Clapping her hands together, she stretches and turns towards you. Yawning, she gestures for you.
With a single powerful pull, you drain the nutrient pouch and toss it into the garbage, before maneuvering down the scaffolding. You land on your feet as you hit the ground.
"You have an update for me?" You ask as you approach, stepping over a toolbox.
"Yah," Janna nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leans back, "engines are fixable. ...If you count takin' the engines from the 'Orn and attachin' them to the cruiser as 'fixin' it."
The Chief Engineer pauses, blowing a strand of sea foam green hair from her face. "...what're we callin' this thing, anyways? I've just been callin' it 'the cruiser' in my head, but that's no name for a flagship."
You hmm, thinking it over before you open your mouth to answer. "I think we should…"
-[ ] "wait to name it till we've gotten back."
-[ ] "call it The Placeholder."
-[ ] Write in a name
"Alright, sounds good to me." Janna bobs her head before straightening her back and opening her eyes wide. "Oh yah!" She exclaims, pulling out a datapad and shooting you a file. "'ere's the report on the ship. I finished givin' it a once over while we were gettin' the Sniper in." She jerks her head towards the mentioned machine.
You thank her as you flip through the file. Looks to be about what you expected, though you were surprised to see shipboard missile silos. You don't have any missiles to fire through them, but they're there for the future.
Your eyes feel heavy as you scan through the document, yawning all the way. Your bed calls to you, beckoning for you to rest. "How long till," a yawn interrupts your words, "till the ship's serviceable?"
"About two to three days, if all goes well. Those parts you found on that pirate will be mighty 'andy." Janna answers as she looks you up and down. "...you should probably get some rest, boss. We fixed a room up for you. 'Ere, I'll show you to it."
You nod, nearly dead on your feet as you're half-dragged half-lead by the diminutive woman. Tiredness snuck up on you. You've had an eventful day full of heart pumping adrenaline and your body needs rest.
The door slides open to reveal your current quarters as you lean on Janna. The room, more a suite, really, is large. It's well furnished, but the thing that draws your attention is the comfortable looking bed that's more than big enough for you.
You hobble as Janna deposits you in the room, slipping out as you collapse face first on the pillow, not bothering to even take off your shoes. You were right, this is comfortable.
Sleep takes you nearly immediately after your head hits the pillow.
~~~~~~~
Tomorrow… What are you going to do tomorrow? (Choose up to three)
-[ ] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which one/s
---[ ] What part/s
-[ ] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] Check on Kellows, she how she's holding up
-[ ] See if the ship's communications are online and make a call (if you're in range of a relay, of course)
--[ ] Discount Dan
--[ ] ...Robecca Harnought, that rich heiress you rescued
--[ ] Write in
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: yeah, this is a real short one. Mostly because I don't want to pad the update with contentless drivel. Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST.
You stretch, lifting your arms high over your head, popping your shoulders as you settle back into gravity. You sigh and yawn, you've had a long day, but it's not over yet.
You glance around the cluttered launch bays from the open cockpit of your Corsair as you pop the seal on a nutrient drink. In total, the Itari ship has six MBF launch bays, located in the middle of the ship in a large, open room containing maintenance scaffolding and equipment.
Currently, four of the six bays are occupied by MBFs. There's the one you're in, with your Corsair, Kellow's thrashed Thunder, which has Janna clambering all over it, that half-built Sniper, its parts stacked around it in big, somewhat organized, piles, and Smitty's Lancer, containing the nervous pilot within.
Smitty is currently… a bit apprehensive of the whole situation. After all, you had been shooting at each other half a day ago, trying earnestly to kill each other. And he was part of the crew that killed the Horn…
You'll have to help out with that. You sigh, today just keeps getting better and better.
Janna hops down from the Thunder's foot, hauling a chunk of melted armor onto the tower leaning against the wall. Clapping her hands together, she stretches and turns towards you. Yawning, she gestures for you.
With a single powerful pull, you drain the nutrient pouch and toss it into the garbage, before maneuvering down the scaffolding. You land on your feet as you hit the ground.
"You have an update for me?" You ask as you approach, stepping over a toolbox.
"Yah," Janna nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leans back, "engines are fixable. ...If you count takin' the engines from the 'Orn and attachin' them to the cruiser as 'fixin' it."
The Chief Engineer pauses, blowing a strand of sea foam green hair from her face. "...what're we callin' this thing, anyways? I've just been callin' it 'the cruiser' in my head, but that's no name for a flagship."
You hmm, thinking it over before you open your mouth to answer. "I think we should…"
-[ ] "wait to name it till we've gotten back."
-[ ] "call it The Placeholder."
-[ ] Write in a name
"Alright, sounds good to me." Janna bobs her head before straightening her back and opening her eyes wide. "Oh yah!" She exclaims, pulling out a datapad and shooting you a file. "'ere's the report on the ship. I finished givin' it a once over while we were gettin' the Sniper in." She jerks her head towards the mentioned machine.
You thank her as you flip through the file. Looks to be about what you expected, though you were surprised to see shipboard missile silos. You don't have any missiles to fire through them, but they're there for the future.
Your eyes feel heavy as you scan through the document, yawning all the way. Your bed calls to you, beckoning for you to rest. "How long till," a yawn interrupts your words, "till the ship's serviceable?"
"About two to three days, if all goes well. Those parts you found on that pirate will be mighty 'andy." Janna answers as she looks you up and down. "...you should probably get some rest, boss. We fixed a room up for you. 'Ere, I'll show you to it."
You nod, nearly dead on your feet as you're half-dragged half-lead by the diminutive woman. Tiredness snuck up on you. You've had an eventful day full of heart pumping adrenaline and your body needs rest.
The door slides open to reveal your current quarters as you lean on Janna. The room, more a suite, really, is large. It's well furnished, but the thing that draws your attention is the comfortable looking bed that's more than big enough for you.
You hobble as Janna deposits you in the room, slipping out as you collapse face first on the pillow, not bothering to even take off your shoes. You were right, this is comfortable.
Sleep takes you nearly immediately after your head hits the pillow.
~~~~~~~
Tomorrow… What are you going to do tomorrow? (Choose up to three)
-[ ] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which one/s
---[ ] What part/s
-[ ] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] Check on Kellows, she how she's holding up
-[ ] See if the ship's communications are online and make a call (if you're in range of a relay, of course)
--[ ] Discount Dan
--[ ] ...Robecca Harnought, that rich heiress you rescued
--[ ] Write in
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: yeah, this is a real short one. Mostly because I don't want to pad the update with contentless drivel. Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST.
- Pronouns
- He
-[X] "wait to name it till we've gotten back."
-[X] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[X] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[X] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[X] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[X] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[X] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
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