ctrlsaltdel

Noble Arms: The ASEAN War - Thread Three, the Darkest Hour

W.O. "Mikey" Rangel

---

From her new vantage point, Mikey could see that the battle outside was not going as well as it should; the Corriente Family's thugs had put machine guns and armor plates onto four Toyota Pickup Trucks that had broken through the camp fence and offloading squads of well-armed militia, while motorcycle-riding gunmen - sixteen of them on Chinese-made vehicles, rode around shooting at anything and everything. Philippine Government of National Salvation forces were rallying, with Military Police and Regular Army and Police units organizing themselves into a cordon around the camp while others swept the area for infiltrators.

What can she do right now?

---

As the prince ran up to him, a feather-light impact hit Griff's chest, and a handheld radio clattered to the ground. It immediately buzzed to life; Mikey's voice came through, crackly and distant, but the strain in her voice could still be heard through the tinny speaker.

-kzzt- "Griff! Griff, are you ok?!" A pause for breath, and her tone became more professional, though her voice still wavered. -kzzt- "Um, sorry, sir--uh, I mean, your highness? Warrant Officer Rangel here. I have overwatch, on the building to your... southwest." Another pause. -kzzt- "Christ alive, there's a lot of them! Sorry, I mean... Counting four technicals, almost twenty smaller vehicles with armed riders following them through the perimeter breach to the west. No count on the... infiltrators, but each of those trucks is carrying an unknown number of armed soldiers." A shaky breath came through the speaker--her instructors would have chided her for bad radio discipline, but at the moment that was the furthest thing from her mind. -kzzt- "I guess Cristina is handling that Arms Master, so I'm going to do what I can from up here. Support incoming." Pause. -kzzt- "Sorry for leaving you behind, Griff. Uh, over."

Another gunshot rang out--one among many--and a gun case clattered to the ground at the Arms Masters' feet. It was branded "US Army", and inside were a Glock 19 pistol and FN SCAR rifle, with several loaded clips for each.

Atop the roof, Mikey let out a long breath. She wasn't missing the extra hardware, and one look at her would make it clear why. She lay prone at the edge of the roof, using the pack that she had pulled the radio from as a rifle rest for Angel Duster; she had pulled a flak vest from it as well, which she had donned over the Army t-shirt she had assumed would be sufficient protection for the day's activities. Her shotgun lay within easy reach to one side, where she had placed it once the enemy Arms Master was... neutralized? (She wasn't really sure what Cristina had done, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.) On the other side sat a pair of metal, military issue containers.

Ok, Mikey. She smacked her own face a couple of times, not as lightly as she intended; her hand as she pulled it away was slightly damp. Just like target practice. Load up, acquire target, aim, shoot. Load up, acquire target, aim, shoot. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, steeling herself against the sounds of screaming refugees and gunfire, then suddenly opened them again and rolled to one side.

From the waiting containers, Mikey pulled out two grenades--one cylindrical, the other round. She took each in turn, pulling the pin and shooting them with Angel Duster to disappear them, then resumed her sniper's perch and aimed over at the closest technical as it began disgorging soldiers.

CRACK--her shot impacted the bed of the truck, next to the mounted gun, and the first grenade began belching thick white smoke in a cloud that quickly enveloped the area.

CRACK--another shot followed right on the heels of the first, aimed in the same spot, and as soon as the second grenade's impact fuse touched the ground it exploded, sending shrapnel flying in the vicinity of the truck, and hopefully killing or disabling the gunner.

Mikey had a short moment of gratitude that the smoke prevented her from seeing the results of her work before she grabbed another pair of grenades and prepared to fire again.

Noble Arms: The ASEAN War - Thread Three, the Darkest Hour

W.O. "Mikey" Rangel

---

"Mr. Griffin, Ms. Rangel, can you two mind the soup kitchen and watch out for trouble while I go? I have a bad feeling about what's coming..."

---

When Mikey thought about the whole thing later, that last line from the prince stood out with perfect clarity. It was an interaction right out a fantasy novel, and in other circumstances she would have struggled to take him seriously. Right now, though... maybe it was the MP's suspicion of sabotage, or the memory of how close the crowd had been to violence mere minutes before, but her face went serious; she even gave Shinyahito a respectable-for-her salute in response.

And the worst part was, that cryptic prediction from a literal prince probably saved her life. Alert as she was, Mikey spotted one of the approaching attackers drawing his weapon from a deep pocket in enough time to react. She didn't immediately recognize the object for what it was, but something in her brain said "weapon". "Stop!" She held her left hand out facing the approaching man; Angel Duster shimmered into existence in her right hand, its muzzle pointed at the ground.

The sound of the shot was almost simultaneous with her shout. The bullet went wide--pipe guns were inaccurate under the best conditions, and she had startled one of the other would-be assassins into firing before he could draw a bead--but it still felt like all the blood had drained from her body. Oh god, it's happening. Some part of her--even as she had listened to the Director's briefings, cleaned and calibrated her weapons, gone over the naval safety packet for god's sake--really hadn't believed it would happen. Even now, a small voice was trying to deny it--It wasn't supposed to be today! The mission wasn't for another four days!

Even as that part of her mind quailed, her body swung her Noble Arm up to a two-handed grip. The man Mikey had spotted was raising his weapon as well, and another line of thought, far from the action, connected the gunshot to the device in his hands.

They drew on each other. If they had been using identical weapons, Mikey probably would have beaten him anyway; she really was very good, for her age and level of experience. In reality, his weapon was a clumsy, improvised thing; hers, for all that it lacked the power of a modern military rifle, might as well have been an extension of her arm.

Mikey shot him down before the iron sights even made it to her eye. One, two. The first took him just below the sternum, the second just above that and to her right as the recoil forced the barrel to track upwards. She didn't stop to look at her handiwork; her drills back at the Proving Grounds had taught her to take only the time she needed to see her target go down before moving on to the next--a woman holding a large knife out ahead of her, charging. Bang, bang, down. A third--bang, bang, down.

But they were still coming, just about within the range where their makeshift pistols and knives would be most effective and her own weapon would be effectively useless. She swung the barrel just to the side and fired again, and this time as the crack of the shot rang out, Mikey vanished...

...only to reappear behind the attackers, half-falling against one of the refugees. She grabbed his shirt for balance, and he was too scared--by the sudden onslaught, by the American who had suddenly appeared next to him, or by his general situation--to object. Mikey quickly regained her balance, shouting back over at the tent. "Griff, watch out!" Probably unnecessary--if the gunshots hadn't alerted him, the shouting had, but she wasn't a model of clear thought at the moment. Could Griff even handle himself? She hadn't ever found out what his Noble Arm could do. Her little firing range demonstration had just accounted for half of their attackers, but that might be three too many for him...

That thought was cut short as Mikey's attention was quickly drawn by the portal, and then by the silver-haired woman who emerged from it.

She's an Arms Master. The realization was as immediate as it was terrifying. Mikey knew that, as far as powers went, hers was both nowhere near the scariest, and what strengths she did have weren't suited for anti-NA combat. And yet the common wisdom was that, on the battlefield, the best counter to an Arms Master was another Arms Master. Unless the prince and Cristina returned, and soon, this was on her and Griff.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She wanted to scream and throw Angel Duster as far as it would go.

Instead of doing any of those things, she shouted at Archer again. "Finding a vantage point!" She didn't wait to see if he heard her before she swung her rifle up and fired at a piece of scrap sitting atop a nearby building. Again she vanished, reappearing on the roof and slumping down, both to get out of the line of sight and from sheer nerves. She really wanted to keep going and just lay down, but she took herself by the metaphorical shoulders and gave herself a mental shake. Running away was not an option. That being the case, she had to deal with the situation. And as much as she was not the person for this job, it was not an situation her training had overlooked.

Mikey fumbled with Angel Duster and ejected a bullet from its magazine, just as she had done in the gym with the sodas. What appeared instead of cola was one of the gun cases she had been toting. She unclipped it (with fingers she was genuinely surprised weren't shaking) revealing a Benelli M4 shotgun. Its barrel was shorter than standard, and it sported a pistol grip. Angel Duster vanished as she dropped it, and she began hurriedly donning both the weapon's sling and the bandoleer of shells stored in the case.

Her hands had already learned how to do this in training, so her mind was free to spend that time wondering if today was not just the first time she killed someone, but also her first time she leaving a friend to die.

Eidolon: Conspiracy Theory

<Snipped quote by ctrlsaltdel>

I am hoping for the following:

• A Tie Scene with Ashley.
• A Tie Scene with Jesse.
• A use of the Call in a Favor Downtime Move to have Jesse look into why Ashley is having trouble changing her surname.
• A Tie Scene with Emily.
• A Tie Scene with The Crow.

@rush99999

Hm, that's a lot for a single downtime. Would you be amenable to rolling Ashley and Jesse's scenes into the Downtime Move? Mechanically speaking, you don't need a Tie Scene to increase your tie with a character unless the bond is already at level 3, so you could still update your bonds with both of them based on that. There's no maximum number of tie scenes per downtime--but both the rulebook and I are concerned about the relative screentime between each character.

As far as the Call In A Favor move, did you want to draw for that now?

Eidolon: Conspiracy Theory

Checking in--I know we're still working on @Guardian Angel Haruki and @XxFellsingxX's tie scene, does anyone else need anything?

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

@ctrlsaltdel

I am thinking of using a Devil's Bargain for my next roll.

Ijin will be making a roll to Study the surrounding area from his elevated position for a route the rest of the team on the ground can take to get back to haul their catch back to the Cerberus without risking a run in with District Security.

The Bargain I propose is thus... For an extra dice, the route Ijin finds is inaccessible from his rooftop perch. The others can use it, but he will have to find another way.

Would you deem this to be an acceptable Devil's Bargain?

@rush99999

I like the general idea, but an important part of the Devil's Bargain is that you suffer the consequences whether you succeed or not; the way you've phrased it here means that if you fail, you're no worse off than you would be otherwise, and that's less fun =P How about "Ijin stays on his perch longer than he should to look for an exit route, and therefore gets a late start evading the fuzz"? I think that implies what you mentioned, while also providing some additional drama if you fail the roll anyway.

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Silas, the good news is that Cho is probably going to make it. He's got some serious contusions, some cuts and scrape--including a particularly gnarly one above his eyebrow--and a clearly broken arm, but none of that seems life threatening. He almost certainly has a concussion, given his lack of a helmet; unfortunately for you, without a head scan, the symptoms of a brain injury and the effects of being pumped full of psychoactive drugs and tranquilizers look pretty similar.

Can you transport him? If you're careful. Will he make it? Probably. That's about as much as you can realistically say here, doing your examination in a trash-strewn alley under the cover of dark.

Quintus, the small 'bot wriggles in your grasp, but the fight has gone out of it. Cho-Tyrek's head moves, slightly--the first movement you're seen out of him since he fell off the bike.

"Lmgo." The noise fell out of his mouth like a dead fish. "Pm dn." The index finger of his unbroken arm twitches slightly. His attempt at speech draws the attention of the ur-bot; its single optic turns to regard the mangled assassin, and you hear the whrr of servos focusing. It stops struggling, then looks up to you, meeting your gaze for a wordless moment before going limp.

In the distance--though not as far as you might like--you hear the sirens of the district's fire service. House Malklaith sector security is likely not too far behind them; in a district this rough, they're as likely to be dirty as not, but either way, it's going to be annoying at best if you don't clear out before they find you.

You catch a glimpse of the truck behind you, just in time to see a roof-mounted sign advertising the "FIREY INFERNO NOODLE BOWL" curl up and blacken from the blaze that has engulfed the whole vehicle.

It's probably best to find some other way out.

Clocks

Catching Cho-Tyrek: [ C O M P L E T E ]
Grease Fire Gets Worse: [ U H O H ]
Ur-Bot Escapes: [ - - - - ]
Spotted By District Security: [ | - - - ]

Crew Status

Gambits: 3

I Am Thou: A Persona/SMT Inspired Story

Amaranthe Foreste

---

---

Ami's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This dream is getting dark fast. She would have liked a bit more of the meeting new people part before the pronouncements of doom; the other people her subconscious had cooked up didn't seem like the friendliest bunch so far, but chewing the fat was definitely more relaxing than talking about the end of the world.

Well, at least the strange-looking man who had welcomed them seemed nice enough. He seems sincere; Ami immediately decides--contrary to the others--that he can be trusted.

Instead of voicing any of that, she says aloud, "Um. Doom? Can you be any more specific?" Ami looks around the military... themed (seemed like as good a word as any) room, and the two attendants, then back to the man. "Is there going to be some kind of military coup? I know how to use a gun but I'm not one of those people who dressed up and plays soldier on the weekends." A short pause, as she looks thoughtful. "And what do I call you?" The urge to address him as long-nose is rising; probably best to get a name before that happens.

"The Culture" Universe RP

Alright guys, this one's rougher than my previous checks.

I know I said I wouldn't, but I finished the Culture novels (by Iain Banks) about a month ago and the idea of doing a story in that universe keeps banging around in my head. What I have so far is less of an outline of a setting or story than it is a list of disjointed thoughts.

• The general idea would be to have people playing Contact agents (maybe Special Circumstances, maybe some other branch) who are either humans or drones, and/or non-Culture aliens who have been swept up in the crisis du jour.
• I'd like to structure this as a GM+Players game, rather than everyone being "in", so to speak. It's the format I'm most comfortable with, and I think stories tend to flow better that way.
• That said, one idea that has been sticking in my head is for the GM to have a limited role as a GMPC playing the Culture Mind who is also assigned to the current mission.
• I'm not dead-set on the GM role; if someone has a good idea for a scenario and wants that role, they're welcome to it.
• I'm not aware of a system that's explicitly designed for games set in the Culture-verse, but my inclination is to have some sort of resolution mechanic. I'm leaning towards using a very basic version of the Drawn from the Undertow system (from Eidolon: Become Your Best Self 2E--see my Eidolon campaign or the Eidolon Playtest podcast for examples of how that works), but I'm open to suggestions for any rules-lite, narrative-first system.
• I'd prefer to run this with a small group--between 3 and 5 people.
• I've tagged this as "Advanced", but I'm not really interested in length--the emphasis is more on character exploration, collaborative storytelling, and strong narrative.

So there it is. As usual, feel free to post bare statements of interest, but I also welcome any suggestions based on the above.

I Am Thou: A Persona/SMT Inspired Story

Amaranthe Foreste

---

---

Ami is unconvinced. Refuses to be convinced, really. She doesn't argue, though, just watches the young man turn and walk through the door with an expression of mild interest. A kid--a bit younger than her brother, she judged at a glance--already bypassed the group altogether to enter. The whole gravity of the dream is pulling her in that direction, and she sees no reason to resist. This is kind of nice, really. For just a bit, she can stop worrying about the future. The surroundings are a little spartan, even for her taste, but other than that it feels like a little vacation.

“I’m Kathy. Hey.”

She looks over at Kathy, gives her a brief but friendly nod. Her introduction is similar. "Ami. Nice t'meetcha." Gesturing at the doorway: "I'm not sure what the deal is either, but I bet we can find some answers through there. I'm gonna head in, if you guys wanna come with." Without waiting for an answer, Ami casually strides in after the other two.

The barracks--she realizes now it could only be one thing--were utilitarian enough that she hadn't thought about her clothes. This new room, though... Well, the dream was good enough not to leave her in her actual sleeping dress, but the outfit she was wearing (stained t-shirt, ratty basketball shorts) was so out of place in these surroundings that she might as well have been standing there in her underwear. Hopefully this dream wasn't about her getting chewed out.

"Uh, thanks. Sir?" She thought about saluting, then thought she remembered that civilians weren't supposed to. Besides, none of them were actually wearing military uniforms. "I'm glad it has a name, but what is this place?"

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Thought I had posted this two days ago. Apparently I did not. Derp.

<Snipped quote by ctrlsaltdel>

I see. Out of curiosity, what were your expectations of Ijin before now?

@rush99999

Well, I was referring more to the fact that I was expecting more reactions like Molly's--a sort of reflexive sympathy for a child-shaped being.

As far my expectations of Ijin--well, I think it's still pretty early to make judgments about any of the PCs, and I know I personally don't really figure out my characters for a little while in a new campaign. But with those caveats, I was expecting him to be more on the restrained side than he has been so far.