A Gamma World® play-by-post adventure run by gammaworld_gm
You nod at Howard and Irma's quaint honesty, and grant them use of your personal quarters. You have other plans tonight anyway. "I must leave you in a bit. I'll be back at dawn to start your 'training,' but first, give me some idea of what I have to work with. You will only be armed with standard gladiator gear, which is worthless. What can you do?"
You realize that Ormahzd is not going to let you sleep until he knows how to tweak his master plans to fit your abilities. Howard and Twoducks explain their mutations and abilities as Ormahzd nods silently.
Irma takes her turn. She states that she has six (4th edition) mental mutations: Beguiling (13), Displacement (12), Heightened Charisma, Summoning (14), Telekinetic Flight (18) and Total Healing (9). She smiles, confident in her powers, and proud that her abilities put her on par with (if not better than!) Howard and his friend.
Your initial plan for the Duckoids was to cause a distraction so you can slip inside the royal box and off the Desecrator. You worry about Howard's apparent notoriety, however---the comments of your suspicious guards have not escaped your ear. The indigo Duckoid will draw too much attention to himself, but maybe you can use that to your advantage. You basically have three options: put the Duckoids down in the pit, have them commandeer one of the laser batteries that line the pit, or take them with you into the box. No choice is riskier than the others. Regardless of your choice (perhaps even a combination of them), you will have to have the Duckoids in place by early evening, a couple of hours before the main event. That's when security will be the weakest.
"Ormahzthd? You listening?"
You snap out of your tactical planning with Howard's directed query. "Of course. Now you'd better get *some* sleep," you wink at Howard. "We've got a big---"
Ormahzd's words are cut short by a dramatic pounding on his office door.
You gesture quickly for the Duckoids to take cover behind your desk, and they scramble there as fast as their webbed feet will take them. You walk calmly to the door and open it authoritatively.
"WHADDAYA... want? Oh, hi Shadow!"
You Duckoids hear the door shut, and then there's the solid clicks of pointed heels entering the room, followed by Ormahzd's own footfalls. There's the sound of a rather emphatic kiss, and then a sickening thump on the floor.
"What's that?"
"Present for you, lover. Open it."
You (Howard, Twoducks) see from under the desk that Ormahzd is reaching down for a knapsack that the newcomer has dropped on the floor.
"What's that old saying? 'Beware Gamma Girls bearing gifts?'" you chuckle. As you reach for the sack, you gesture toward the desk. "Ah, Shadow Blaise, meet my old friend Howard Dodgers, and his chums Irma and Twoducks. They're gonna help us out." You proceed to pick up the bag and fumble with its awkward bulk, looking for the zipper.
You (Howard, Twoducks) waddle out from behind the desk along with Irma, and look up at the tall woman---quite obviously another Gamma Girl, one of Hampshire's crack bodyguards. If Xeva were built like a duralloy I-beam as Dukas would say, Shadow Blaise is built like a duralloy sledgehammer, with muscles rippling on top of muscles, and a punk black mohawk to go with her tribal tattoos. She is gorgeous for a humanoid fem, in a Pocahantas-meets-Xena-Warrior-Princess kind of way. Howard, you note her physical resemblance to Liz, the head of Hampshire's elite female guard. Both you and Twoducks also note her resemblance to Xeva, the Gamma Girl who betrayed Dukas. If it were possible, Shadow even looks a tad meaner.
"Ah, Howard the 'Nuker.' Wait'll lard-ass hears you're back in town," you say, nodding at the indigo duck and his two companions.
Irma is puzzled by Shadow's reference to her Howie. The look on her bills finally demands an explanation from Howard. The Truth. She wonders about Howard's excuses for his mysterious lifestyle. It wouldn't be the first time. She had doubts about his hemming and hawing before, but it is now starting to look like she doesn't really know the Duckoid. She kept promising herself to wait until the plucky duck got it all out of his system, but now it seems that he---indeed, they---are in so deep over their heads....
Shadow turns back to Ormahzd. "C'mon, quit pussyfooting around. Open the blasted thing already."
You open the bag and pull out a severed human head.
You are all (save Shadow) utterly horrified at the sight. It is a human female's head with long blonde hair, still dripping with blood. Her visage is frozen in a scream of death. Irma faints. Ormahzd is visibly stunned. Twoducks looks away stoically. Somehow, Howard, you recognize the blonde from way back when you first met Ormahzd at Wolf's Lair.
What do you do? Some explanations are in order, but remember, the clock ticks!
Dragondodger2001, your character's military genius mutation grants you unprecedented GM access. I can answer any tactical questions and give you advice for planning Ormahzd's "hit", but when it comes to dealing with Shadow, you're on your own! ;)
One by one, you voice your thoughts and introductions to each other as Tempest works on cutting a hole through the missile silo wall where it predicts its long-sought medical lab lies:
"It appears we're going deeper into this place and although we could use the extra firepower, you should know that one of our friends has been seriously hurt already, and if not for the Machine, we would all more than likely have been killed, so having said that, you're more than welcome to join us...."
"What [Leela] says is true. Hopefully there won't be any more surprises, but I'm afraid I can make no promises. I don't even know why I'm still here, as much as this place seems to have been occupied during my sleep."
"Given a choice between a death laced with lonesome boredom and one fraught with danger, excitement and the possibility of a gruesome death, I'll take the latter."
Your decision to join with Tempest in its quest seems easy to make, though Katkin has voiced neither assent nor reservation. The patch-eyed Felinoid seems coolly quiet and observant, and from his body language (or Leela's Emotograph™), strongly suspicious. Nevertheless, as Leela states, Tempest did save your lives from the Unit Zed police robot that killed Warrr'a, and it does seem sincere in his agenda, if not vague. As if bidden by your thoughts, Katkin finally speaks.
"It scanned each of us with a genotype scanner," he says with a low growl. "I've only known such technology to be used by shady characters."
Though Katkin's caution may unnerve you, you advance behind the pipes where Tempest hunches over its torch. You see that it has almost completed cutting a 4-foot diameter hole through the thick silo walls---saving itself some work by placing the cut adjacent to the hole in the wall through which the heavy piping plunges.
Tempest snuffs out its torch with a pop, retracts it into its arm, stands and turns toward Jonathan. "I am honored with your company, Pure Strain. We must discuss your long presence here, if what you say is true. But not now. Stand back."
Tempest's comment implies that it has heard every word said behind its back. As you back away a little, Tempest returns to the wall, raises an armored boot, servomotors whining, preparing to deliver a powerful kick at full gyroscope-boosted force. It happens so fast that you may have blinked and missed it. But now all you see is a dark void, still smoking from the searing heat of kinetic trauma.
The section of the thick silo wall that Tempest kicked out made a terrible racket as it transferred its tremendous momentum to unsuspecting objects beyond the silo wall. Your ears still ring with the resultant explosive shattering of glass and with the death throes of twisted, tormented metal. Dust that has been dormant, perhaps for centuries, billows out of the hole with a vengeance.
Unfazed, Tempest peers inside, a light shining forth from a horizontal strip in its forehead. It seems an eternity before it retracts and turns toward you. As always, it addresses Jonathan.
"It is a large storage closet of some kind. I have opened the wall near its ceiling: the drop is 3.8 meters. There are no heat sources, no detectable motion inside." With nothing more to say, it turns and lowers itself feet first into the hole.
You hear a resounding thud after it disappears, and then the crunching of glass as it walks around. It is still dark inside the closet, save for the occasional moving cone of light from Tempest's brow.
With no other obvious choice of action, you lower yourselves into the hole one by one. Jonathan goes first, then helps the others down afterwards. Tempest's light can be seen on the other side of some tilted storage shelves, illuminating the far wall near a door. You hear the sound of the door open, then close. Glass shards, damaged vials and other fragile containers litter the floor, marking your every step with staccato tinkles.
Suddenly the room erupts with photons....
"Let there be light," it says, activating a light control near the door. His metallic words puncture the tense silence with strange eloquence. "I am hopeful, now more than ever," it continues, crunching toward you from behind the fallen shelving, "that this is the long forgotten medical facility I seek. But my energy reserves are near total depletion. I must recharge. The corridor outside is empty. Don't stray too far. There may be more Unit Zeds around that I cannot detect." The strange entity sits down by a receptacle and plugs a finger into the socket. A shimmering blue field envelops it like a second skin, and its glowing red eyes fade into a black darker than the duralloy armor that frames them.
What do you do?
I will work on a Haven (G5) post next. Sorry to keep you waiting, gw_kicker!
I of course blame it on my own theory of time dilation, in which time travels at a speed proportional to the square of the distance of the fewmets from the fan.
I want to commend all of you for hanging in there. You have consistently produced outstanding posts for your characters, despite long time lags between my own posts. And when there is not much GM material to go on, you have come through with some great dialog and character interactions.
The Wasteland is a-rockin'!
-Ye ol' tired GM
"Listen, Golden Boy, when are you going to learn to use your head for something other than a battering ram? Your face is memorable enough---but you gave this bimbo your name."
Shadow rolls her eyes and stomps over to Ormahzd's desk. She leans back in his chair, props her feet up on his desk and gazes "innocently" at the big man. "No, no, don't thank me. There's a rumor going around that you're being a little soft on a few newcomers," she says, nodding at the Duckoids. "I've spread a little rumor of my own that perhaps you have 'exotic tastes.' A small shouting match when I leave should settle the matter. Can't afford too many suspicions being aroused at this stage. If they think it's just about your, shall we say, love life, no one will pay much attention."
Shadow looks around for a moment before continuing, "Well? Here I am; saved you the trouble of finding me. Shall we get down to the planning?"
She glances down at Irma's still unconcious form. "Is that normal for her or should maybe one of you he-men wake her up?"
Making a mental note of the metal beast's actions, she turns to examine more closely the room in which they find themselves. After doing this, she cautiously examines the corridor outside. "Well it seems our metal guide needs rest. Perhaps now is a good time for us ourselves to rest. I'll take first watch... if there are no objections?"
Curious at the actions of the strange robot, I examine the thing, not confident enough to touch it but curious just the same. After a few moments, I follow Leela's example and explore the area cautiously.
Jonathan starts looking around carefully. Is there any machinery to be spotted in the immediate vicinity? Computers? File cabinets or desks to rifle through?
I realize my absence deserved an explanation, but from my character's entrance, I would have hoped for a more explosive exit than taking a bullet by a sniper.
Hey freya_dragonbane, I was saddened to read of Freya's death, but it was quite powerful, especially in the reflection of her exit from the perspective of Frieda Abel. With all good stories, death is sometimes just as powerful, if not more, than the character's life.
Look at Tasha Yar from Star Trek: The Next Generation, for example. Denise Crosby didn't want to stay in the role, so they killed off her character ungraciously. But her reprisal of the same character in "Yesterday's Enterprise," as well as of that character's daughter in later episodes, as well as the episode with her long-lost sister, made for some great plotlines.
Now with Freya, I don't know why you left the game, but as with Yar, she didn't quite get the glorious death scene. But because of her death we saw a lot of character development of Frieda.
So now that you're back, can you play some more? There's always great characters to reprise that are stagnant, as well as great places to insert new characters! I'm sure the GM will have no problem working in a new character somewhere.
Welcome back! And R.I.P. Freya Dragonbane.
--gammaBen
Whoa, like hold on there, hot shot! How more explosive a death scene did you desire? And I quote from post #585:
Before Jake can find the words, a sudden spray of gunfire erupts. Freya, standing too close to an open window, is hit by a dozen large caliber explosive-tipped bullets. Staggering backwards in shock, Freya falls to the concrete floor dead, almost unrecognizable."
Now that's style, I say! Not one measly bullet, but twelve, and explosive-tipped ones at that!! The former GM sure had a penchant for poignant death scenes. Ah, the good ol' days. But perhaps he could've used more overtly descriptive language, such as:
"Staggering backwards in shock, Freya falls to the concrete floor dead, the explosive shells having reduced her lithe form into a heap of unrecognizable gore."
Or maybe:
"Freya, standing too close to an open window, is hit by a dozen large caliber explosive-tipped bullets, which shread her armor and explode her like a blood sausage."
And talk about poignant, you should read the former GM's eulogy (#801), delivered by Jake, over Freya's grave. Brought tears to my mutated eye:
Bending his head forward, Jake speaks solemnly. 'My father once told me that it's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.' A short amount of time passes. 'I didn't even get to know you, Freya Dragonbane. But I do remember that you saved our asses, and I still owe you. I hope a decent burial can set things right between us. You saved us and then I got you killed, so it seems I owe you twice. God rest your troubled soul... and may you forgive me. Amen.' Jake leaves the rock as a head stone."
Now GMs aim to please, and I am no exception, though I may be late on occasion, and unfairly weight the game against certain Roosteroids, but I digress.... If you are unsatisfied in your death scene, then please fill out the requisite Death Scene Revision™ forms in triplicate and send them in. I will have my Research Department look into suitable reparations. ;)
(On a serious note, glad to hear from an old player! You are welcome to rejoin anytime. Just e-mail me, and I promise you a truly horrendous death scene this time! :-)
-GM v2.0
You flatter me greatly with the Tasha analogy! She is without a doutbt my all-time favorite character, not to mention her impact even after death, (but don't get me started on the time line theory!). And I say you sure do know how to make a ghost feel welcome.
-Freya
Rhyn looks over towards Jonn. "Hell, good food and a bit of rest sounds good to me as long as the rooster stays at least 2.5 meters away."
kill it kill it now hehehehe i want blood
She shakes her head a little and curses underneath her breath.
Cold air rushes past your face and you exhale violently. Your next breath is the sweetest you have ever taken. Even sweeter than Xeva's perfume during that one hot and heavy night you have almost convinced yourself you spent with her on the XJ1.
Captain Leghorn breathes deeply, faintly remembering laying on the floor of the XJ1 after having an over-baked interlude with Xeva. He also remembers shakin' around like some fine imported booty. Then blackness, the darkness of cool sweet ecstasy. (Selective memory always works best in these non-archived Roosteroid situations.)
"Your head can take a lot of punishment tin-can. That's good to know."
"There's a lot about my head you don't know, Colonel."
"That's Captain. Who cares about yer head---the point is, these are some decent generous women that I can take advantage of! Okay, I say there... this has gotta stop. I'm going to remind Rhyn of her humanity the way only a woman can be reminded from 2.5 meters away."
"Tell me it ain't so!"
"It is...." He starts a chant. Everybody loves a droning, repetitive sexy chant.
"Yeah, maybe it'll wear off, like the interest in the ancient CB radio did."
"That's a negatory, good buddy!" I saunter in, looking around the spacious, spotless foyer with shiny chrome and metal decor. Giving everything a once over, I strut proudly.
Federal law prohibits changing this post while archiving it. [:) --ed.]
My positronic matrix edits out Leghorn's comments like real programmers whistling down the "MIC IN" port of a ZX80. "Thank you Captain Obvious! Now, back to the tasks at hand," I say resentfully. Hesitating, I continue, "I'm sure that if I could gain access to that computer terminal there yonder, I could expedite the parameters of our search to a much narrower focus."
"...with half of us unsteady, I think we should grab dinner and rest here for a few hours, maybe resume exploration at midnight. This place looks as safe as any, and the air is good. And I sure could go for some of that apple pie Bess packed us!"
I give Jonn The Look, "Mmmm, apple pie would hit the spot if I weren't a robot. It reminds me of Fred, a skin-tube like you Jonn, I mean a PSH. We were having panic and havoc, and the fire alarms were blazing. I told Fred, I said, 'Fred, hey... that's the fire alarm. We gotta get out of here.'
"Fred said, 'Wait for me!' He was filling a cup at the cocoa machine.
"'Come on, come on, come on!' I yelled.
"Fred said, 'Why save your life when there's cocoa?'
"I will miss Fred. He would have been 235 right now in PSH years."
I continue, my voice echoing hauntingly, "His epitaph read, 'Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them like cocoa.'
"No worry, I'm sure us dallying here eating pie won't be the same. Pretty sure."
"Not bloody likely," he breaks the long pause, sotto voce.
"Aw nuts!" i mean um aw nuts She sports a worried look. "Oh, yeah...." she trails off, mumbling incomprehensibly.
"Uh, actually, I'm a little more concerned about us. You think it's safe down here, Jonn?" She lazily slides down, resting more on her legs, and looks up at Jonn.
"Aw nuts!"
i mean um aw nuts
"Oh my God, we agree on something."
totally alien concept must kill the rooster but how
"Oh shut up! I don't think they'd let us."
kill kill please
Rhyn makes sure to check over her weaponry while resting. "BFG... check. Ammo... check."
Captain Leghorn gasps at Rhyn's words, somewhat flattered. "I say, I say there Rhyn-e-penny, please don't construe our agreement as my endorsement of depravity and unsavory sensual favors." I grin at Rhyn, adjusting my Roosteroid comb and strutting around her, eyeing her like a quill-doll. "Tragically ludicrous, I say. It reminds me of the time I saved the Factory from that Atomic Discombobulator. Now that was true hedonism."
Myc narrows his eyes at Leghorn. "You mean heroism?"
"Why, thank you. That's right neighborly of ya!"
With bruised dignity and short term memory I continue, "Yes, heroism... my Mondo Trasho sidekick. Anyhoo, the point I was warily eluding to...." I wink at Rhyn. "This, I say, this ancient place has gotta be filled full of ancient valuable worthless crap. I've heard people just die to find these places."
"Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod! Oh my god!"
I realize I'm standing on Lamia's foot. "Oh, ah, sorry there lassy." I keep strutting in circles, pondering. "You know what this place needs?"
"No wha---?"
"Pine freshener!" I avoid Rhyn's sharp quills.
Rhyn looks at her gun and thinks, "Zzap! Zzap!"
pink flamingos
She mumbles something.
The greatest oak was once a little nut who held its ground....
Rhyn narrows her eyes at Leghorn. "That's not what I was talking about, poultry-breath, and I wasn't talking to you earlier... doofus."
i wanna kill him too
"Oh back off or I'll just shove a BFG in your face and pull the trigger," Rhyn snarls slightly.
"Broooock!" I brock, backing off and mumbling something about Mr. Doofus, while taking my cigar, adjusting it in the corner of my beak, chewing on it and going into a poultry-induced dream sequence:
Shift backwards in time and space to the Oad-Ck-Factory, also known (but long forgotten as):
La Prix Industries
The Leader in Processed Foods
Meat Division: Chicken Factory 36A/2116 bxi
Lucien La Prix, founder 2203
Dr. Zaius, Oad-Ck-Factory scientist
"Help, the rooster is about to escape!"
"Get your paws off me, you dirty ape."
[gasping] "He can talk!"
[in unison, rhythmical]
He can talk Broooock...
He can talk Broooock...
He can talk Broooock...
He can talk Broooock...
[singing] "I can siiiing!"
[to the beat of "Rock Me Amadeus"] "Ooh, help me Dr. Zaius!"
[in unison]
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Oh... Dr. Zaius Broooock
"What's wrong with me?"
"I think you're crazy."
"Want a second opinion."
"You're also lazy."
[in unison]
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
[one Roosteroid starts breakdancing]
Oh... Dr. Zaius Broooock...
Dr. Zaius Broooock, Dr. Zaius Broooock...
"Can I play the piano?"
"Of course you can."
"Well I couldn't before!" [plays piano]
[sings "You'll Never Make a Monkey Out of Me"]
I hate every Human I see
From chimpan-a to chimpan-zee
No you'll never make a monkey out of me
Oh my God, I was wrong
It was Earth all along
You've finally made a Roosteroid out of me!
"Yes, we've finally made a Roosteroid..."
"Yes, you've finally made a Roosteroid out of me."
"Yes, we've finally made a Roosteroid out of you."
"I love you, Dr. Zaius!"
[end dream sequence]
Stop the Planet of the Apes/Roosteroids: I want to get off.
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