Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 85. page
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So we is back
So /qst/, here are rules:
>Technology of world is arount ~100 A.D.
>Every turn 2 actions, 1 tech action and 1 culture action (may leave any kind of action out if you want)
>civs start with 1000 guys,
>I'll make civ sheets
> Any new players will join existing civs
>civ population will rise to food poduction (not immediately)
CIVS:
Kingdom of Gole
Heliopolis
CooN
Russia
Volstine
Cygnar
This is my first /qst/ thread, so please be gentle to me. Let me know if you have any concerns. The unmarked lands don't have any owners, and won't until someone settles a city there!
I am not original OP. Really hope he come back
Here is Heliopolis Progress:
Cygnar
CooN ( Confederation of Niggers)
You are Casimiro Pulido, murderer of children, old goodwives, robber of graves, journeyman of thuggery and general dickbutt thief. You've killed a settler goodwife and her two strange children chasing the stories of an enchanted blade. And now you have it, you're not that impressed by it. An old, pitted weapon, stained with use and looking like the metal wouldn't take a sheen if you bought polish off the royal armsman. 'Lovingly used' is the term you're coining in your mind as you try to edge your way around selling it. You've a small fire going near the house, under what used to be this family's cooking pot; Your initial thought was to burn the house down out of spite, but that feeling passed quickly enough. A careful extraction of the pearing knife hooked in your side and a liberal application of ash and cussing took care of the bleeding wound. It'll scar, but that's just one more to your collection. As for your broken off-arm, there's not much you can do.
Over the flickering fire light you turn the sword, noting the gold worked into the lettering in the fullers. Strange letters - you have no idea what it means, or if it means anything at all. 'NDXOXCHWDRGHDXORVI'. Out of curiosity you briefly tuck the sword under the pot, letting it rest in the fire while you get ready to drag three cadavers away; Two small and one medium sized.
>Cont'd
>>152044
>+NDXOXCHWDRGHDXORVI+
It took a few hours, but finally you make it back to the sword sitting in the fire. A few cuts with the pearing knife in the throat, and the water glugged right in. Bodies sank like stones, food for crabs and other things that walk the deep. Not your concern, and their damned ghosts can haunt the shrimps for all you care. You lick a finger and tap the sword; Cool as a stone at night. You carefully pluck it from the fire, holding it up as you check the fullers, looking for a sign the gold ran. Nothing. Maybe the damn thing's worth enough after all-
You're interrupted by a sharp sting in your gut. You cough into your fist, massaging the stone growing there. Consumption; Eaten from the inside out. Only a wizard could pull something like that out of you, it was beyond any bush medicine. An evocationist could burn it out of you, perhaps, but you'd never recover. Or a transmuter could give it to someone else. An illusionist could make you not feel the pain until the day you dropped dead. But only a necromancer knew how life flowed and ebbed, and could suck the life out of that stone and give it back to you. If you knew irony, you'd find it ironic the thief had a thief of life in his gut. And someone that skilled took handful of gold; Your buyer in the Tower of Miracles stated this sword would do as well.
You clear your head of thoughts that far ahead; You made it a rule not to look far beyond your immediate needs. Otherwise, you might make the mistake of reflecting on your misdeeds. Surely there was a special place for you after death. You were eager to avoid that until you could bribe the Gods themselves. That's how the rich made it to paradise, after all. You kick the black pot over, and scoot it onto the fire, sparks flying up around you before it chokes out. And then you settle into a stranger's bed, surrounded by a stranger's walls on a stranger's land, and sleep the sleep of a man with no conscience. Like a babe.
>cont'd
>>152052
It's about mid-day before you snap out of the hypnotism that swaying donkey put you in. You'd taken everything of value on the land - a few grubby silver, the sword, a few eggs and the donkey. You'd let everything else burn in a slow fire, with a bit of satisfaction. It almost made your useless off-hand feel better, swollen as it was around the wrist. And the sword's pomel keeps poking you in the side as well, but you'd run into problems; No sheathes. You'd tried sliding it into a loop of hide, and it slid right through like a knife through warm tallow. You tried wrapping it in a skin and the straps unraveled. You gave up around the fifth time that happened, and just slid it through your belt. It wasn't comfortable at all, and you'd have to find a better arrangement sometime.
And then, as your thoughts trail back to the present, you realize what your head picked up on that your mind hadn't grasped yet. Ahead was an old pier with an old shack - some settler's fishing ground, no doubt, the planks having long since failed so that only the posts stand up. Like boney fingers, in fact, stretching up from the water. But it wasn't that break in the horizon that caught your attention - it was the figure crouched upon the furthest one. Squatting on the tips of their toes, a strange cloak falling about them as their attention is completely on the water. Which churns and boils slowly, like fish at spawn.
Strange.
>Call out to it.
>Treat it like a homeless lout; Make no eye contact and pass silently.
>Throw stones.
>Other? Write-in
>1d20 for actions, called in a few hours.
Rolled 7 (1d20)
>>152062
>Throw stones
The previous thread got archived. Here it is: 125407
-------------------------------------------------------------------
>>150624
>>150564
You mean 731, right?
--------------------------------------
Weaponry, industrial equipment and vehicles are sold to the largely rural Commowealth and to the Khanates wich, despite being Communist, had the same money as everyone else, and paid well for the weapons, material and training that the Slawonks provided. The foreign trade boosted industry and gave many people jobs, but the Vasernian regions were still largely neglected, and for a reason.
The secret police that had been used in the Muslim communities within Slawonika was deployed in the recently annexed Vaserniak regions. Rumors say that those people of Vaserniak, Hravaktian and sometimes even Muntelniger origin that are "disappeared" by the secret police were tortured and experimented on by a secret unit dubbed SHEU, Slawonikan Human Experimentation Unit. "Sheu" also means "pain" in Vaserniak.
>The population of the Vaserniak regions is now scared shitless, albeit also quite furious
>After learning of the annexation of Vasernia, Tinakistan has recalled its embassy and refused to trade with you
>>150694
Make a mandatory nudity law for all 10-25 yo females
Looks like we have to commit.
> focus our research bases into studying how to make man/ape super soldiers
> be alternate timeline Joseph Stalin
My first thread.
You are either in the LRA or in the LPR (the LPR's flag is up for change) you must either plan on your attacks against the brutal dictator named Adi Hagi in the Capital city of Tulcea. The LPR, who is lead by Pavel Mykytiuk, holds an HQ is in Kherson.
In your name you must put your alligence. [EX: First Lastname (LRA)] and your name must either be Moldovan, Ukrainian, or Romanian.
If you want you can draw maps for planning.
>>158603
LRA Claim
>>158612
You are stationed in Bahate
(I'm using real cities)
How do you plan on defending Lakania?
>>158623
Look for signs of rebels and send troops in.
I'm back from the dead.
At lot of shit happened last time.
RECAP: As our colony grows, so do the others. The Slowpokes and Mankeys merged together to form a Monarchy, ruled by King Slowking I. We are planning to attack them. The Current Regions are:
PURPLE-TURQUOISE-RED (PTR) REGION (Ekans, Oddish, and Kabuto)
PINK-SILVER REGION (Slowpoke and Mankey)
YELLOW REGION (Abra)
TEAL REGION (Omanyte)
GREEN REGION (Chikorita)
LAVENDER REGION (Clefairy)
INDIGO REGION (Pidgey)
BLACK REGION (Weedle)
GOLD REGION (Slakoth)
Our current Pokemon Species in our colony:
Ekans, Oddish, Kabuto, Snivy, Seviper, Budew, Shellbro (Aliens), Shelmet, Shellder, Cloyster, Lileep, Trubbish, Anorith, Bellossom, Dwebble, Qwilfish, Grimer, Koffing.
Our Religon is REGISM, the belief that the earth was created by the 4 Regi gods.
The Colonies we are aware of are:
PINK-SILVER REGION
YELLOW REGION
LAVENDER REGION
You have plenty of Meteorite (Certain Pokemon interacting with it does certain things and can be used for buildings or tools), Mud (For Tools and Buildings, Water Stone (Tools and Buildings, certain things when Pokemon interact with it.)
Dwebbles can spy on other colonies.
What will you do?
Burn it all down with Napalm. Just Like 'Nam
>>161285
Explosives have not been invented yet.
God Fucking Damnit. Go set something on fire.
As the suns sets on the western ocean, the magical Azure Chariot swoops down from its long flight and settles down on the crimson sand of the tropical island you elected as landing site.
And none a minute to soon: the sun is slowly starting to set on the horizon, signalling the end of the spell. You didn't have the time to scout the island from above, and consider Mikahil's words carefully as you glance around.
Past a fairly wide strip of reddish sand where land and sea meet, the island is overgrown with savage, exotic vegetation. Wyld mutations are fairly obvious, with monstrously large ferns sporting oddly-shaped leaves, some looking distinctly like elongated human hands. Thick, dark trees with no clear resemblance to any plant you've ever seen, and often covered in gently writhing vines, whose small, round fruits bear a suspicious resemblance to eyeballs.
You turn around, to the ocean, and even staring west, where the sky is still lit by twilight, you realize that you can't quite tell where the line of the horizon divides the sky from the sea. A sign of the western Wyld being close and dominant, you remember Talon teaching you once.
In the South, you're used to the idea of Wyld being strange and multi-faceted: a suspicious oasis, a colorful mirage, the shadow of a flame, until the sand and the world itself catch fire.
In the West, the Wyld is just the sea invading the sky.
"This is pretty freaky." Karas offers his opinion. He has Giant Boxcutter, his Grand Daiklave, already in hand, and eyes both the overgrown island and the watery horizon with equal suspicion.
"Oh, don't worry too much." Valeriana shrugs. She clearly knows more about the dynamics of the Wyld than anyone here, so her words put you a bit more at ease. "This far we're just in the Bordermarches. We're not in any danger of mutation of anything. Just... don't go out swimming too far from the shore."
"I don't think I feel like swimming period." He grumbles. "We're only stopping here until sunrise, we're not on vacation."
Valeriana smiles and shrugs in response.
>Let's set up camp here on the shore. (m+z)
>Let's move a bit inland and explore the island. (m+z)
>Send someone out to scout around (who?)
>Tell everyone to wait for you here, and go out to scout. (m+z)
>Actually, you're curious. Dive in the water and swim away from the shore.
>No need to set a camp or anything, you're just waiting for the morning. Just find some way to pass the time.
>(Other?)
>Who are we?
Maka, an exiled noble Exalted as a Zenith-caste Solar. Queen of Gem, now ruling the western island of Tianna. You
have gathered a vast amount of allies and friends, and defeated every threat to Tianna up to now, though not without
difficulty.
You recently discovered that Tianna is actually an artificial island, built around a First Age Titan: an almighty
flying fortress. Your forces have crushed the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Water, a Deathlord who tried to usurp its
power for himself.
And now, on the day of your wedding, the Unconquered Sun Himself appeared to you and crowned you Princess of
Creation, asking you to be an example for others in these dark times.
After securing the alliance of the nearby realm of Neck (or Okeanos, as they prefer to be called), you received news
from your remote homeland of Gem: Rankar, the man who usurped your throne, holds your father and sister prisoner, and
is about to marry her to his own oun in an attempt to solidify and legitimize his power over the city.
>Solar? Zenith? I don't know Exalted...
This quest is as newbie-friendly as possible, and I want it to work as a newbie's intro to Exalted. If you have ANY
question, ask in thread. For the setting, google "1d4chan exalted".
>Archive?
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Solar%20Quest
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Solar%2C+Quest
>System?
Dicepool-like system. When performing an action, everyone rolls 2d10 when posting. The first X rolls are considered,
where X is equal to attribute + ability.
>XP?
Attributes cost [current score x5] xp. Abilities cost [current score x3] xp, except Zenith costing [(current score
x3) -1]. Charms cost 10 xp, except for Zenith-based charms (related to charisma and physical/mental fortitude) which
cost 8 xp. At the end of every "session" (thread) you will be presented with a list of possible acquisitions.
>Twitter?
@exaltedfag
>Any questions?
http://ask.fm/Exaltedfag
New System Info: http://pastebin.com/pvAZpsJ6
Characters info (player-made): http://pastebin.com/5WnD47jp
Quest in ebook format (player-made): https://www.dropbox.com/s/0wl5obxcwuakgdj/Exalted%20Quest%20-%20Threads%2001-
101%20%5Bpdf%5D.rar?dl=0
Meanwhiles: http://pastebin.com/u/Exaltedfag
As always, welcome back to Exalted Quest. New players are also welcome. I know this quest has a huge backlog by now, but I hope new players who come this thread across for the first time will still give it a try. Feel free to ask any question.
>>153244
>No need to set a camp or anything, you're just waiting for the morning. Just find some way to pass the time.
A GIANT QUEST
You are Gord, a relatively young hill giant living in the uplands of Rennaria, a primarily human nation. Normally you make a living by extorting money and food from nearby villages. It's approaching midday, and your stomach rumbles, the hog you devoured last night is no longer satisfying you.
Deciding you've wasted enough time daydreaming you...
>Head south into the woods in search of game, or wayward hunters.
>Head west to the open fields and the kingdom's main highway
>Head east to the town of Koldrun, where you may perhaps find work.
>Write in
Giants in this land are treated with wary neutrality, for while some are wild savages knowing only violence - some serve humanity as two-legged beasts of burden, or even soldiers. You stand at a towering 19ft, more than twice the height of the average man.
(I'll be going off popular vote for choices, so voice what you want to do and see!)
>>152546
>Head south into the woods in search of game, or wayward hunters.
>>152546
>Head east to the town of Koldrun, where you may perhaps find work.
East is best direction. Fight me nerds.
>>152546
>Head south
I wouldn't dream of working for tiny humans.
LAST TIME, ON METAL CHRONICLES!
http://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/125261/metal-chronicles-quest-1#bottomI dunno how to archive threads, so I guess this should do for now, though if anyone is willing to show me how, it'd be much appreciated!
You defeated a PUPPET, one of many that form the backbone of the invasion force that has taken over most of Earth in the last two or three months.It wasn't an easy fight, but in the end, you prevailed and even LEVELED UP!. You now have TWO (2) STAT POINTS you can freely allocate, as well as 30 EXP you can obtain perks with!
You wake up, groaning slightly, before the first pangs of pain hit you. You can't help but shake slightly as the pain courses through your body, coming from your arms and legs... But at least you know you're alive, and by what you're feeling, your limbs are still attached to your body.
What even happened? You can't help but wonder, staring at the white, empty ceiling as you try to remember... You were fighting. One of them, even. Well, more like kicking the thing's as, you think with a grin, followed by a grimace. And then, the building you and your squad were in was hit. Probably a stray shell, Fido's shell finally not being able to take any more or...
No. Couldn't possibly be. You reluctantly shake the possibility off, trying to sit straight. There doesn't seem to be anyone around...
>>152256
Now, your statline is composed of 6 vital stats
PILOTING- Your ability to bring out the most out of your suit.
STRENGTH- Your personal strength. How much you can lift, push and pull.
SPEED- Pretty self explanatory.
TECH- Your ability to deal with machines, whether it's fixing them, scrapping them for resources or breaking into them...
CONSTITUTION- How physically resilient you are, and how much damage and stress you can take before you go down.
Improving these will not only help with how you interact with the world outside of your Exo, but might even affect what you're able to do in it...
>>152284
Perks, on the other hand, are special skills and abilities that influence your fighting and piloting style. You unlock a new tier of perks every level. Due to the fact that you won the last fight (a boss fight), you've obtained 30 EXP, taking you from level 1 straight to level 3 and unlocking the second tier of perks!
Each one has their own requirements, and you can only choose ONE for each tree in each tier. (e.g. Never Enough and One Shot are mutually exclusive, but you can take Never Enough and Go, go!)
Every time you complete a mission, or defeat a particularly dangerous fow, you will obtain more experience, which you can use to acquire more perks. Every time you level up, you will get 2 stat points to allocate.
With that said...
[ ] YOU HAVE CONTROL
>>152256
Here's a link for the archiving tool suptg. This one is the section dedicated to quests on /qst/.
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html
You'll see the Add Thread request interface on the left. The request form itself is pretty self-explanatory.
>>152316
So we're allocating points right now, yeah?
>Piloting
>Constitution
>Never enough
Previous thread >>133463
RECAP
You are Natalya Ilyushina, a non-Girtablilu scorpiongirl. Setting is the USSR during the start of WW2 where everyone is a monster girl.
You were fired from your job as a mercenary after killing your comrades in a botched mission. After wasting your days away in a pub, you decide to do some freelancing, taking odd jobs that people post on the town board.
You have befriended a hellhound named Eva, you dislocated her elbows and killed her friend. She doesn't seem to hold it against you. You have also informally adopted an elf-child named Katya, you found her in a house near an abandoned munitions factory where you discovered a massacre. Bodies in piles, being loaded onto a truck my a centaur. You suspect that the meat being fed to the homeless community comes from this source but you aren't so sure anymore. You spent some time with Katya and Eva in camp, waiting to guard the missiles. Having been accused of being a leech on the camp, you fight for your right to be in camp, winning the fight, and earning your stay. Eva rejects your advances on her as you leave for the town hall to commence your job guarding rockets bound for Tskov by train. Currently you've just survived an ambush on the train, killing your attackers. You looted the corpses, secured their weapons and ammo, and are on the way to Tskov, where you agreed to team up with a minotaur to fuck some shit up
CURRENT INVENTORY:
350 rubles
A Mosin-Nagant with a sling made of tattered cloth. No scope.
1 x Backpack
6 x 5 round stripper clips
1 x Leaflet for a cage fight
1 X Truck
1 X Key to the truck
2 X MP 40 with slings
1 X PPD-40 with sling
1 X Luger with holster, attached to belt
1 X Torchlight with pouch, attached to belt
1 X Flint & Steel
1 X Binoculars
1 X Entrenching tool
3 X FAD
5 X Model 24 Stielhandgranate
3 X 25 round PPD 40 magazines.
1 X German combat ration
0.5 X Russian combat ration
Belt with magazine pouches containing:
6 X 32 round MP 40 magazines
3 X 8 round Luger magazines.
CURRENT JOBS
Guard a shipment of Katyusha rockets to Tskov.
A fight club at the bar. Paid 30% of earnings from bets.
How does she hold weapons?
Hands inside claws.
Please provide feedback and criticism of my writing. I'm trying to be historically accurate so please point out any inconsistencies
>>151647
How far till we arrive in Tskov?
>>151647
So I guess we'll wait.
Forgot to add that we also have 1 X mirror
>>148740
You are concise in the retelling of your past, answering mostly truthfully, lying by omission instead of outright lying. Leaving out the fact that you killed your team. You recount some of your previous missions to her, various assassinations and assaults against mafia families which cause too much trouble.
She is impressed, her respect for you increasing exponentially with each successive story.
She seems almost embarrassed to share her story, just a street thug going around extorting people, trying to get into one of the many mafia families. She says that she's trying to get onto bigger and better things, and you're her way to get there.
Slightly flattered at that, the minotaur stands up tells you that she'll leave you alone. Guns clatter as she walks back to her compartment.
You take out the macaroni ration and consume it, you don't know why but you get quite hungry after firefights.
You use the downtime to touch up your appearance, taking out the mirrior and wiping off specks of blood and dirt from your face, you fix your hair as well.
The rest of the train ride is spent staring out the window, looking out for movement that might indicate another attack. Thankfully nothing happens and you reach Tskov without having to get shot at.
The train stops and everyone dismounts. This station appears to be strictly for military use, a fairly spartan design. The military personnel gaze in shock and surprise at the bullet holes on the train, exchanging whispers between each other as to what happened.
A spider-girl walks up to the group, her chitinous feet clicking as the points hit the floor. She demands to know where your guard commander is, for she much desires to speak with her.
The girl who took the guard commanders dog tags shifts forwards and hands her the dog tags.
She asks the group to tell her what happened, voice quavering slightly.
The group looks at you expectantly. You briefly describe the events that happened, how the train had to stop, ambushed on all sides and the aftermath. The spider-girl takes some time to digest this information.
She goes to the various compartments to inspect the weapons you've collected. Despite her previous mood, she seems excited now, stating that these will go to the tech squad for reverse engineering.
She congratulates the entire group on making it out alive.
Commending them on their bravery in battle.
She introduces herself as Major Vera, here to inspect the crates of rockets. But considering recent events, she says that she'll have to question each of you seperately, to get an even more accurate account of events. You don't understand her reasoning but you aren't about to argue with a major.
She brings each person to one side, you don't know what she talks to them about but it doesn't seem hostile.
When it's finally your turn, she beckon you to come over. She studies you for what seems like an eternity, scrutinising you.
You are going to start a kingdom far off in the distant reaches of minecraftia! It shall be a glorious kingdom that has more gold and diamonds than you could ever imagine!
But before that, what do you look like? (Read: What skin should we use?)
And also, what modpack shall we use?:
FTB Infinity Evolved
FTB Infinity Evolved (expert mode)
FTB Unstable
Ftb Horizons: Daybreaker
FTB Presents Direwolf20
FTB Mage Quest
FTB Resurrection
Note: you may suggest a pack that is not on the list, or even one that is not an FTB pack. The above are simply the packs I feel would work well and that I already have downloaded.
What should we call the world?
What seed (if any) shall we use?
>>151194
Ash Williams
Earth (Because I suck at world names.)
Random seed is my vote.
>>151194
horizons daybreaker
>>151194
Use Kratos's skin
Name the world Olympus
Fucking become a god of that world
TWITTER: twitter.com/planefag
ARCHIVES: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/kant-o-celle-quest-a-kantai-collection-game-transcribed-from-4chan.345865/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_I3SY_E4fU
The first shots are exchanged at twenty-three hundred yards.
Fire and smoke flash in the toothed maw of the low-slung obsidian horror cruising through the misty waters. Some cold, detached part of your mind traces the contrail of the shell as it rips through the fog, arcing high before plummeting right for you -
- the blast lifts 305 from below, jolting the deck against your feet. The hiss-whumph of compressed air hits your ears again as the weapons officer sings out; “Tube Three - fish in the water!”
“Hard to port and emergency deep!” you cry. 305 responds adroitly to the helm as she noses into the Sunda Strait, her wake foaming as she picks up speed entering her true element.
Hisss-whump. “Tube Four - fish in water!”
You shuffle around the deck as you turn with the periscope, keeping the cross-hairs on the fog-shrouded shape of the monster, now careening into a hard turn - he's heard the high-speed screws screaming his way.
Six. Seven Eigh- the muzzle blast slapping aside the morning mist; the scream of a high-velocity shell tearing over the conning tower close enough to hear through the pressure hull.
“ALL STOP!” you demand hoarsely, “and hard to starboard!” Slapping the scope's handles flush with the shaft, you send it sinking down into its recess in the floor - it can only give you away now. You brace against the chart table, staring down at it as your nape shrivels, sensing the incoming salvo you're trying to dodge.
Hiss-whump. “Tube Fi-” the warrant officer's cut short by another blastwave that goes ringing through the hull from bow to keel.
“The hell is that?” Wei asks you. “K-guns?”
“ASW shells,” you reply grimly. “Helm, flank speed. Make course two-two-zero.”
“Shells?” Wei says quietly, eyes fixed on the computer plot tracking your outbound fish. The display's strictly COTS stuff, and even if it wasn't there's only so much data to be wrung out of your boats old hydrophones. It's all riding on the weapons officers now, their eyes grimly fixed on oscilloscopes as they grip small joysticks white-knuckled, controlling their fish on unspooling wires. The software can supplant their hydrophones for your boats, but they can't compare or collate data. There's only one thing for sure - the Abyssals are running.
“Blunt-nosed, subsonic,” you reply quietly. “High arc trajectory, won't skip or break up. Hits you at periscope depth. If he'd had common loaded, we'd be dead now.”
Your XO turns his wrist over to check his watch. The destroyers slowed down to track you when they heard you start cavitating at depth - now they're accelerating to flank, trying to outrun your fish. Your sonarman heard them making close to 40 knots, earlier - and your fish top out at thirty-five. You can't turn with the wires unspooling, and you can't reload, either.
There's nothing to do but wait.
The men managing fish one and two lean forward in their small chairs, sweat trickling down their face as they burn the oscilloscope’s wavering line into their eyes. Small lights come on, telling them what the torpedo's automatic guidance and 305s computer wants to chase - but they both over-ride it, pushing their joysticks sideways to line up on the smaller, steadier signal. #1s operator releases a stale breath as his screen goes dark - and slumps as #2 station's operator follows suit. They both turn towards the sonar console.
Your head sonarman swivels back and gives them a solemn nod.
Two minutes later the warrant officer on station five slumps in his chair, looking sick. He doesn't have to say anything - his fish ran out of juice. Six follows next. Then four - and three.
“Got one,” your XO breathes. It's as good an epitaph as any Ming boat can hope for.
“Range? you ask quietly.
“Seven-thousand or so,” your sonarman replies quietly.
“Helm, ahead-two thirds,” you order. The confirmation drifts by your ears as you stare at the lines on the computerized chart, denoting the bearings of the incoming signals and their roughly-estimated range. The other two are coming for you, and they're pissed off, their sonar banging away on active, hunting for you.
But even active sonar works best if you slow down to hear the echoes better. And they'll be loath to slow much, lest they catch more torpedoes. And they must have lost track of you during that mad dash at flank with you in their baffles.
You eyeball the distance as sonar pulses ring off your boat's old hull, sweat trickling down your face as you calculate reload times. They'll be on top of you before you can reload the bow tubes, but you've still got fish astern.
Two. Two, exactly.
[ ] Let your sub sit silent on the sandy bottom while your position is still somewhat ambiguous to reduce your active sonar signature - and wait. You've only got two fish left - you've got to make every shot count, from close range. If they had standoff ASW aside from those shells, they'd have used them by now - and the shells only work on boats at periscope depth.
[ ] Keep your speed up and keep tacking away from them - in water this shallow they'll find you sooner or later. You've got a maneuverable boat, loud decoys and a noisy surface duct to work with. Buy time to reload your tubes, and keep taking standoff-range shots to keep them busy till help arrives. ASEAN would have to be deaf not to notice this brawl.
inb4 navyfag :(
You've finally saved up enough money from your menial desk job to put the down payment on your very own spaceship.
Unfortunately, war breaks out on your homeworld and public sale of spacecraft is temporarily banned. But...you've waited too long and worked too hard to die on some hill for a cause you don't believe in. You take your money to a black market dealer, the interest is higher, the ship is shittier, and the seller very very likely to hurt (kill) you if you don't make payments on time, but the down payment is lower.
>Income Statement (per month)
>Income
-Interest from Savings: 1%/yr, 10C
>Expenses
-General Living Expenses: 500C
-Interest on Ship Loan: 9%/yr Adjustable (will drop to 4%/yr in 6 months if no payments are missed) = 2414C
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Cashflow: -2904C
>Balance Sheet
>Assets
-3016 SpaceR "Camel": ~1.1MC (real value), 2% paid off (24kC)
-12kC in PlanetVault Savings Acct
>Liablities
-Black Market Loan: 1.2MC at 9% Adj.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Equity: -88kC
(Pic related, your ship)
Price of the other modules provided upon request
What do you do?
>>148815
Check how much fuel we have.
>>148833
Your ship is fully fueled. Your tank has enough capacity for 10 jumps. Your ship AI is Turing Class II, upper bound for jump calculations are 3 days.
Try to see if anyone in the black market wants something delivered
Test
>>149195
If your test was a success, then delete the thread.
>>149195
bump to know if test was successful
You found yourself in the middle of nowhere surrounded by these pointy looking trees.
What do you do?
>>148965
Climb on top of the most blunt-looking tree and look around. Climb carefully so as to try not to get stabbed.
>>148965
Run around with your eyes closed screaming at the top of your lungs
>>148965
Bite one of them
It is the morning of May the 20th, 1902.
In your slumber a voice fills your mind. Barely noticeable at first, but it grows in strength. From a barely audible breath to a soft chill brushing the ear of your slumber, as if someone was whispering across a distance. You feel can feel it URGING you.
It is enough to wake you up.
(Roll d100.)
(Rolling 95-100 will result in a critical action, the higher the better.)
(Rolling 1-5 will result in critical failure, the lower the more severe.)
Your name is DAVID DANGER, but your fellow workers at the sawmill just call you DOCTOR, as a bit of ironic humor.
You're well known by your friends and acquaintances around the small English town you live in as being KIND OF AN IDIOT, and by that you mean REALLY FUCKING DENSE. The very notion of you being given the monniker "Doctor" is ridiculous and hilarious to everyone, so of course it stuck. You've been known to often drift off in thought, probably fantasizing about SHAVING. Before today you had very little ambition in life, and would have been absolutely fine with working to provide for your family until the day you died. That will change rather quickly thanks to the mysterious and somewhat alarming facial hair that now flows from your face and through your mind.
Beside you sleeps your wife, a beard similarly flowing from her chin as she sleeps, alarmingly.
Rolled 69 (1d100)
>>156039
Shave yourself and your wife
>>156039
Invent chronophotography
