A Gamma World® play-by-post adventure run by gammaworld_gm
Please state if Geo or K-11 is carrying any of your extra gear.
Still being sometime before noon, your group gathers their belongings and heads out, leaving the Starport behind. The temperature is very hot (in the high 90's, dry heat), and the terrain as you head south is open badlands/desert to the east and scrub pine tree-covered rough hills and looming white snow-covered mountains to the west. If you intend a specific marching order, you should announce it. Otherwise you walk together in a random order.
"Tell me you have a plan this time, Jonn? Right?"
Jonn carries all of his gear, including one of the three 3-person tents (hmmm, who's going to be #3?), in the large pack provided by Abe.
Jonn's stats and equipment will soon be updated at the archives site. I will also update the other characters' supplies (those that I have)---let me know if I've got your character wrong.
Another thing: the 1st ed. Gamma World® rules state that a Mark VII blaster rifle eats 2 hydrogen cells per 5 shots. Does this affect the number of cells Abe gave us? It also states that those atomic cells Brimstone's carrying weigh 12kg a piece! Heavy, dude!
Yet another thing: Brim, name your pulse rifle---it's a bonafide NPC!
As their missions were pressing, Jonn decided to disembark that day, instead of resting for another night, much to Lamia's dismay. Most of the gang had rested adequately after the battle with the plants and the hunter/killer robot, anyway.
It was also decided that Gallus would remain behind and direct the activities of the maintenance drones, as would Stramagix, who had finally awakened, shrieking wildly and clutching protectively the ancient license plate that hung around his neck, "Godstell stay Stramagix! Godstell staaayyyyy!"
As he strapped on his large pack and shouldered his twin rifles, Lamia and Kicker brushed by on either side, having already born their gear. He failed to grasp her meaning when Kicker remarked, "Well, there's always plan B!" provoking that sultry Gren grin again.
Now they were half a day along in the hot desert, but the winds coming down off the mountains made it feel comfortable at least.
"I always have a plan, Geo!" Jonn chirps cheerily, eliciting a groan from Howard.
Jonn continues, undeterred, "Well, I'm guessing we won't want to stray too far from these foothills," Jonn points to his right, then back to the map that Abe gave him, "since that's where the water is, and where there's water, there's people who can answer our questions.
"I thought we would just skirt these hills going south until we get more or less parallel to this distant volcano, here, which we should be able to see from the foothills. That will put us due east of Datil, here.
"If we don't have a lead on where Ranse's camp may be, or on any of our other missions, we'll find a way across the mountains to Datil and inquire there," Jonn finishes, looking down at Geo, squinting even through Lamia's reflective shades, due to sand glare.
"What do you think, guys?"
While everyone is wiping the sweat from their brows, Howard basks in the sun. His mutation to absorb heat and fire prevents him from turning into a Peking Duck dinner. Howard carries his needler casually in his hands, and all the rest of his gear either strapped around his neck and shoulder, or in a large backpack donated by Abe.
Periodically Howard loans his backpack to one of his adventuring partners in order to get an aerial view of their journey. He tries to keep up with his fastest waddle. "Why couldn't we take the grav-car?" he wonders, then remembers the flak it took in its last journey.
"Sthoundsth like a plan, Dukasth. You know I trusth you," Howard states for all to hear. The life of adventure often beckons Howard to join up with a good mission, and with Jonn at the helm, Howard is all the more eager. After all, somebody has to watch his back, Howard thinks to himself. He wonders, though, when his current adventure-lust will wear off, and he will want to return home for a while. Howard does not stick to a prescribed marching order, but rather tries to keep up as best he can with his slower-than-humanoid waddle.
Suddenly Brimstone's back snaps in half as the atomic energy cells he was carrying quadruple in weight.
Just kidding, ofcourse.
Well, they can't be that big and heavy if they fit inside a rifle. I guess we're not using GM 1st ed rules, but GM 2nd ed rules. :) (my favorite kind, anyway.)
I make a point to keep an eye out for Kicker. She looks more than capable of handling herself, but Brimstone enjoys keeping track of her and caring about her, for some odd reason. It's been a long time since he's looked out for anyone but himself. Its awkwardly refreshing, and probably won't last forever, but nevertheless it's different. It's also nice having some brethren for company. The rifle has been pretty vocal lately since he received news that he'll have plenty of power cells for the future.
"Hey, does anyone else want to carry me around? This Cougaroid's THAC has got to be pathetic!"
"Hey!" Brimstone replies, stinging with insult. "Keep my stats out of this! I'll have you know my senses score beats anyone's in the party!"
"Whoa! Does someone have attribute envy? You know, Brimstone, it's not the size of the attribute that counts, rather, the distribution of skill points."
"Do you have a mute button?" Brimstone says, turning the rifle over and upside down searching for one.
"If I did, do you think I'd tell you, Blue Moron?"
Purple with embarassment at not being able to control and discipline my own weaponry, I walk silently as the rifle, for whom I most desperately want a mute button, continues to rant.
Suddenly interrupting another rifle tirade, my brain-mouth blurts, "I just thought of the perfect name for you, rifle! MUTE!"
"Oh, that's just so nice. Pret-ty original, there, cougarbrain."
Smiling contently, I continue walking with the group.
We have an equipment crisis! Who's carrying the hand-held missile launcher with 2 mini-tow missiles (heat seeking, range 1km, 50pts dam within 10m diameter)?
Jonn has 2 rifles already. Dodgers is weighted too much. Geo doesn't like weapons. Brimstone would be too wary of the tech. And do we really trust Lamia's aim?
Jake? Kicker? K-11? Leghorn? Anybody??
Actually, I knew the Mark VII blaster rifle uses 2 hydrogen cells per 5 shots. I even made a note to myself and still forgot to mention it. Abe would have given you double the hydrogen cells for those weapons. The reason Brim's atomic cells weigh 12kg each is because of their bulky shielding. They're not any larger than any other energy cell, just a lot heavier. One device you might attempt to acquire in the future is an Energy Cell Charger. One requirement Howard: if you fly, you cannot carry anything when you do so, and you can only fly for say 5 minutes or so before needing to land.]]
Your group continues to walk throughout the day, heading in a southward direction. Howard takes a few brisk flights but notices nothing of importance. Scouting ahead, Brimstone and Kicker find a small empty dead-end cave (about 20 by 18 feet in size) along one sharp hillside just about 30 minutes before darkness falls. What do you do next?
Giving Jonn a Gren grin, I ask "Should I unpack our tent, luv, or are we roughing it tonight?"
Sorry Will, we are still using the 1st Ed. GW rules. In those rules if your back snaps it stays snapped. :) K-11 will carry the missile launcher and missiles.
After two flashes that light up the desert, all of you hear a rumble in the distance like thunder many miles to the south. Darkness comes not much later. Just a small sliver of the moon in out and the sky is clear, making it a very dark night. Do you build a fire?
Putting my hands behind my back, I pace back and forth nervously. Stopping, I turn toward Jonn, my chicken feet together firmly. "I say, I say Jonn, how do you even know we can find these people you speak of? This is a very large area, you know. Do you have anything to go on besides just heading 200 miles south towards that cloud-belching volcano? And What is that missile for in your pack?"
Stroking my wattle, I will listen to Jonn's answers and eye the Cougaroid and his warped rifle apprehensively, occasionally scratching the ground a few times with my feet when I tire of standing in one spot. I stand near Howard since he is the only feathered being here, even if he is unfortunately a male, or at least he claims to be, but who can really be certain with ducks.
Acknowledged, GM. If Howard cannot carry anything when he takes his short jaunts, he must have defied the laws of duck-physics several times by now. Namely, when he was "hovering" in the battle with the chameleon at Oad-Ck, and also when he flew down the hall to escape the mutants who had the force-shield up. Perhaps we can reach some kind of general understanding as to how he manages to fly with gear or not, keeping in mind his mutated duck-self. Comments, anybody?
Howard will volunteer to be asleep during first watch. All the waddling trying to keep up with the humanoids makes him quite tired.
Doh! YOU GOT ME! Okay, let me carefully rephrase that... Howard can only fly for say 5 minutes or so before needing to land while carrying minimal equipment. This rule does not apply to short hallway length flights. As for hovering... well, that may have been Dave's use of his dramatic license. At least I've never seen a mutant duck hover while shooting a rifle.
Walking around half asleep during night, you (Howard) see nothing, nor does anything happen. Unless anyone wishes to do anything in particular, day 2 begins (Rolling, rolling, rolling... keep those mutants rolling!).
The NARChivist does not condone mutant duck hovering. Those responsible have been thwapped <Ow! Hey, that hurt!>, even though I couldn't find any instances of dramatic license Duckoid hovering in the Archives. Actually, the only dramatic license I take is with Lamia. Ahem, er, sorry! <reaches for antlers>
P.S. My participation in this quest (and others) may take a hit within the next two weeks... (pregnant pause)... due to RealLife™.
Don't know exactly happened, but I do know the GM and Lamia are no longer members of this club. Until she returns, I will assume Lamia is Dave's NPC to write as he sees fit. I go away for one week and everything goes to frell! Using my lower-than-average GM-ing abilities, I will continue at the helm.
Morning arrives to at the same time as it usually does, bright and hot. Breaking camp, you leave the secluded cave and head yet farther south into the broken scrub-covered hills. Some time around noon (after a short flight, longer than Jim would ever allow), Howard spots a faint wisp of smoke rising yet deeper into the hills to the southeast. What do you do?
Pulling a cigar from his pack, the Roosteroid gives it to Jonn. On its wrapping are the words, "A new father of a mutant baby boy."
"I think his eyes are leaking again!" says the robot, trying to look under Jonn's shades as they continue walking.
"I got a bad feeling about thisth." Howard continues on, nervously awaiting the day ahead.
"Wow, thanks Cap'n!" Jonn says, smelling the fine tobacco. He wipes his glistening eyes, wondering if the proud feeling he is experiencing is related to last night in the cave, or if it has something to do with a sudden inexplicable notion that he should be the one handing out cigars. He looks to Lamia for a clue, but her quick smile and sunglasses are unforthcoming.
"Geo, what do you make of that smoke? Are we nearing that volcano already?" he asks.
After Dodgers lands from his short flight and voices his apprehension, Jonn helps him with his pack. "Beak up, Dodgers! You're always having bad feelings while you're on assignment with me. Maybe you should lay off Geo's pretzels for a while!"
"Maybe itsth justh you and your plansth, Jonn!" Howard explains with a Duckoid laughter-quack.
As far as Jim, well, we all knew he was a leetle crazy.
Of course the truth is I passed out behind the bar after drinking one too many oddly spelled/spilled sarbis beers after celebrating the arrival of Dukas Jr. As always, I want to thank Brimstone for his support <rubs the Cougaroid's fur the wrong way>.
I'm bad, I'm back and I'm black.... OK, I'm not the last one, but hey, it rhymes. Out of my chair, David, and give me those papers back! You let Howard fly how far? <Takes seat on GW Throne> As Jim Kirk would say, "Point 2.5, on my mark! Ahead full!"
"Who do you think I am? A forest ranger? I only have club scout programming." After seeing Jonn's frown, the robot says, "The smoke looks like it's from a camp fire. The volcano is still at four more days to the south, six or more at this pace. I can't tell from this far away, Jonn.
"Are we going towards the smoke or that big fresh black spot on the desert about a mile out there in the opposite direction?" asks Geo, pointing towards it, even though you can't actually see it with the naked eye.
"It looks like something crashed out there," says the security robot, touching Jake on the shoulder. "We need to talk later, Jake---privately if possible!"
"Maybe the crash would explain that thunder we heard last night?" Geo offers.
The Gren has a different theory. "Why are you so happy today, Jonn? We didn't do anything last night, did we?" she asks, noting his wide smile.
"No problemo, Jonnboy. Just remember to shoot the Cougaroid when I tell you to! Teh, taha!" I say, clucking just loud enough so that the sensitive-eared cat can hear me. "I say we go to the smoke first!"
Always eager to investigate a potential experience point-packed side adventure wherein might lie cool new weapons and artifacts ripe for looting, Howard expresses his interest in looking into the crashed object. "Besthidesth, I may be able to fixth it!" he jokesth, that is, jokes to Jonn.
Ok, focus people. What are you going to do?
"I say, I say huh, huh, Howard, that's a mightily long walk out there! The droid said a mile!" The Roosteroid looks at the mutant duck and thinks he would look much better as a female duck.
Geo taps on his universal translator in his chest as it jams trying to translate Howard's over-emphasized words. "<beep, beep>"
Stands around wondering why everyone else is standing around, and considers the use of Plan B.
"OK, Joshua, maybe when we're on watch."
"Don't you think we should check out the campfire first? It might be a possible enemy, or at the very least, a survivor of the crash."
"I also vote for checking out that campfire. True, there could be stuff we could use at that crash site---I'm as curious as anybody---but if there's an enemy out there, dealing with that comes first. Whatever we do,let's hurry!"
Kicker volunteers to be in the lead, especialy when we draw near to whichever site we've decided to examine first. She wants a chance to look at any tracks, and to see if they are leading to the site, or going away from it.
Hmmm, judging by Jonn's goofy grin, and Lamia's secretive smile, it would seem Plan B might have worked. I'll have to find a chance to ask her later. For right now, bored with all the arguing going on while time's a wastin', I look for a sunny spot to stretch out on and relax, enjoying but ignoring Brimstone's appeciative glance.
"Right-o, grizzly dudes. Where there's a campfire, there may also be someone who can give us information on Ranse or Timon or Ermon."
"Sorry Dodgers, I know the Examiner in you is itchin' to dive into some tech. Hang in there, buddy, we may have time to go back to the crash site, but if we separate now, there's no guarantee we'd all meet back together."
Unknowingly preempting the Leoparoid, Jonn continues, "Brimstone, Kicker, you two want point? Geo, we could use your eyes up there too. I wanna know beforehand, if possible, how many 'club scouts' we're going to meet around that campfire."
"What's all this talk about 'club scouts'? Is that where Jonn learned all his rope skills?" she asks innocently, subtly revising Plan B (as only a Gren can).
I slap Jonn on the back. "I say, I say, good choice old boy. You want me to help carry some of your gear, like that homing missile? Didya ever notice how Kicker is always stretching seductively and smiling appreciatively at me, Jonn? Must be my barnyard ways." Putting my feathered arm out to pat Howard, I notice he surprisingly speeds away.
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