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/tg/ - Traditional Games


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The hundreds of tiny gears inside you begin to turn. You feel several high-powered helium engines churn within your chest. The cameras in your eyes blink on, and as your internal fan whirs to life it expels air from your vent, which is designed to look like a handsome nose.

You push yourself off the ground and examine your surroundings. You're in a space station, that much is for sure. The steel walls around you are scarred from laser fire, the furniture destroyed. All around you, you feel the strain brought on by lack of air pressure; surely brought on by a breached hull.

"Must've been one jam of a fight," you muse as you grip the wall. Pieces of glass, steel and machinery float through the vacuum before you. You can't remember what happened just a moment ago. "Analyze damage," you say to yourself, and your cameras click off.

You see a large, green-and-black display of your external systems before you...

>The JiveMaster Mk. 1, a tall, limber robot on two legs. You wear an all-white suit with the collar popped and no shirt underneath: made of metal, of course. On your head is a huge afro of jumbled cables maybe a foot in diameter.
>The BoogieBot XL, a short, rotund robot in white pants and a frilled green shirt. Peeking out from your right arm is the barrel of a laser cannon, and from your left arm is a precise, surgeon-like hand.
>>
>>30879820
>>The BoogieBot XL, a short, rotund robot in white pants and a frilled green shirt. Peeking out from your right arm is the barrel of a laser cannon, and from your left arm is a precise, surgeon-like hand.
>>
>>30879820
>The JiveMaster Mk. 1, a tall, limber robot on two legs. You wear an all-white suit with the collar popped and no shirt underneath: made of metal, of course. On your head is a huge afro of jumbled cables maybe a foot in diameter.
>>
>>30879820
>The JiveMaster Mk. 1, a tall, limber robot on two legs. You wear an all-white suit with the collar popped and no shirt underneath: made of metal, of course. On your head is a huge afro of jumbled cables maybe a foot in diameter.
>>
>>30879820
>The JiveMaster Mk. 1, a tall, limber robot on two legs. You wear an all-white suit with the collar popped and no shirt underneath: made of metal, of course. On your head is a huge afro of jumbled cables maybe a foot in diameter.
>>
>>30879820
>>The JiveMaster Mk. 1, a tall, limber robot on two legs. You wear an all-white suit with the collar popped and no shirt underneath: made of metal, of course. On your head is a huge afro of jumbled cables maybe a foot in diameter.
>>
>>30879820
>>The BoogieBot XL, a short, rotund robot in white pants and a frilled green shirt. Peeking out from your right arm is the barrel of a laser cannon, and from your left arm is a precise, surgeon-like hand.
I just want to say you failed your chance to make an Afromech Droid pun.
>>
>>30879956
>>30879975
>>30879981
>>30879994
Choice set.
Writing!
>>
>>30880071
Sorry guys, my internet's a little spotty and I accidentally just deleted my post.
Writing again.
>>
>>30880444
Use word or something.
>>
>>30880444
The display cuts out, and you once again view the space station. A little chime goes off in your head. "No major damage!" a little voice chirps.

You look down at your suit: a popped-collar jacket covers your neck, with bell bottom jeans of the same material on your legs. Your suit is composed of polished, aluminum-infused steel, made elastic and laser-resistant by four-eyes magic. You put a hand to your afro, composed of adaptive cables.

With a thought, you activate the magnets in the soles of your feet. They pull you toward the ground, allowing you to walk. You cautiously make your way through the abandoned station until you hit a crossroads. Three hallways extend before you. Signs stand on each wall, telling you where they lead.

>Go to the engine room
>Go to the docking bay
>Go to the captain's quarters
>>
>>30880665
>Captains quarters
BOW CHICKA WOW WOW
>>
>>30880665
>Go to the captain's quarters
>>
>>30880665
Why are we walking regularly? Let's moonwalk wherever we need to go.
>>
>>30880665
>Go to the captain's quarters
>>
>>30880790
AGREED
>>
I didn't know I wanted this so much.
>>30880665
>Engineering
We need to activate the gravity so we can moonwalk.
>>
>>30880838
>We need to activate the gravity so we can moonwalk.
>implying we need gravity to moonwalk
>>
>>30880701
>>30880757
>>30880813

>>30880790
>>30880817
>>30880838
Captain's Quarters wins, with the goal of finding a way to moonwalk.
Writing!
>>
>>30880869
>The moon has gravity
>Moonwalking is walking
>Walking typically involves gravity
>Therefore, you need moonlike gravity to moonwalk
It's science, man
>>
>>30880971
I can't argue with science.
>>
>>30880888
You look at the hall ahead, listed as leading to the Captain's Quarters. You turn around and attempt to moonwalk, but doing so is incredibly awkward with the lack of gravity. You are aghast at this limitation, and your fists ball up with purpose. You have a new mission: activate the gravity, and find a way to moonwalk.

>New objective: activate the gravity so you can moonwalk.

You tread down the short, dark hallway to the captain's quarters and light floods into the dark hallway as you slide open the heavy door. Inside is a nicely furnished chamber with a bed, a table and a desk overlooking a window into space. The entire room is paneled to look like aged wood and carpet, though when you knock on the wall it only elicits the hollow ring of steel. On the wall is a poster of a snow-capped mountain overlooking a verdant forest. A caption reads: "Bohemia".

On top of the desk, you can see the source of this room's energy: a miniature helium generator plugged into a port in the wall. Next to the generator is what looks like a communicator with a screen, a microphone and a speaker. The camera lies on the side, next to a screwdriver.

>Attempt to contact someone with the communicator
>Further examine the room
>Go to the docking bay
>Go to the engine room
>>
>>30881127
>Further examine the room
Look for personal gravity devices, weaponry, and men's accessories.
>>
>>30881127
>Attempt to contact someone with the communicator

Last number that was dialed
>>
>>30881127
>Attempt to contact someone with the communicator
Best bet now, I guess.
>>
>>30881127
>Further examine the room
>>
>>30881195
>>30881274
You take a seat in the chair before the desk and turn the communicator on. The screen shows a radar-like view of all the signals in the area, which is remarkably few.

You hold down a button and send out a message to all channels. "Yo, anybody out there?"

There's static for a moment, but you hear a loud beep and it clears.

"This is Corporal Hustle of the Dysko Alliance. I respond from a lavender-class Helium searching ship, and mean no harm. Who is this?"

You hesitate before putting your finger back down. "This is, uh, JiveMaster Mark 1. I'm on some kinda broke-ass space station. I don't have any weapons, if that's what you're askin'."

The voice is silent for a moment before the screen flips on to show what looks like a sphere covered in tiny TV screens with two short arms sitting in front of a commanding console. Most of the screens are off, but two white ones at the front blink like a pair of square eyes. The ball gasps.

"Commander! We thought we'd lost you!" it exclaims before frantically typing on its console. "Are you injured?"

"No, but I'm stuck on this jive-ass space station with no memory," you say.

The ball examines a sheet of printed coordinates. "I'm not that far from the station. Get to the ship's docking port, commander. I'll be there in, uh, fifteen minutes!"

The screen shuts off and the transmission cuts to static. In the static, you can make out a jumbled conversation.

"---oled up in some cracka-ass Polchah stati---ermission to fry dis foo'?"

"Permission granted. Those Dysko suckas ain't gonna know what h---"

The transmission cuts out, leaving a growing sense of dread in your metal heart.

>Go to the barracks to find a weapon
>Go to the engine room to try and find something to use against their ships
>Go to the docking bay
>>
>>30881598
>Go to the engine room to try and find something to use against their ships
>>
>>30881598
>Go to the barracks to find a weapon

Battle Comb. Razor Flares. Disco Grenades. Missile Platform Shoes.

Time to get equipped.
>>
>>30881598
>lavender-class Helium searching ship
Punk ass bitches.
Check out the engine room. This combat is gonna be ship-to-ship in all likelihood.
>>
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>>30881697
>Missile Platform Shoes.
>>
>>30881598
>Go to the barracks to find a weapon
>>
>>30881598
>>Go to the engine room to try and find something to use against their ships
Big ass cannons
>>
>>30881676
>>30881711
>>30881830
Writing.
>>
>>30881887
You quickly make your way down the hall to the engine room. The door has been blasted off its hinges and lies on the floor. You step over the rubble and examine the inside of the room. The ceilings are higher than the other rooms you've visited, maybe twenty feet high to make room for the huge engine. The engine looks like a large coil of steel panels and lights, which are currently off. A dim glow emanates from glass panes in the system.

Much like the rest of the station, this room is completely out of power. You see no windows of any kind, though on the wall you can see a large screen next to a large missile chamber and aiming console.

>Try to activate the power (how?)
>Look around the room
>Go to the barracks
>Go back to the captain's quarters

>(something else)
>>
>>30882038
>Look around
With a special focus on the engine and the glowing panels
>>
>>30882038
>>Try to activate the power (how?)
Go back to the captain's quarters and take the mini-generator and plug it into the console.
>>
>>30882245
This.
>>
>>30882245
>>30882302
Writing.
>>
I cannot into tripcodes.

>>30882339
You race back down the hall to the captain's quarters and rip the generator out of its socket. The electric plug crackles as you take it to the engine room. Once inside, you plug the generator into the console.

The screen flares on with a dim camera display. Outside, you see a small black ship, its hull detailed with gold. In the corner of the screen you can see "4 missiles remaining" in blue lettering. "Power sufficient for 1 missile."

Radio static comes out of the speaker; it seems this console is equipped with a communicator.

>Attempt to communicate
>Shoot first, ask questions never
>>
>>30882497
>Attempt to communicate
Tell the fuckers to back down or you'll wreck their shit
>>
>>30882497
>Attempt to communicate
>>
>>30882548
>>30882597
Writing.
>>
>>30882735
You press down on the button and furrow your mechanical brow.

"Yo! What's your beef, slick?" you interrogate. The static cuts back in. When it cuts out, you can hear muffled, bassy hip-hop music in the background.

"Dis is Sergeant M.O.G. o' da R.A.P., an' yo 'bout to get busted up, fool!" comes the response. "Disco's dead!"

Oh, this jiver did NOT.

>Fire the missile
>Wait for him to dock, and beat him senseless in person
>>
>>30882892
FIRE ZE MISSILES
>>
>>30882892
>Fire the missile

It's time to light a fire on this dancefloor.
>>
>>30882892
Man this bitch an't know what he's talking about, hug the missile and fire yourself at the enemy ship and then beat every single one of them senseless
>>
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>>30882982
>>
>>30882916
>>30882949

>>30882982
>>30883007
1 to fire the missile
2 to fire yourself in the missile
>>
>>30883043
2.
2.
22222222222222222222222222222222222222222
>>
>>30883043
1
No reason to be irrational
>>
>>30883136
>no reason to be irrational
Niggah you crazy? He INSULTED DISCO TO OUR FACE
>>
>>30883043
Use the magnetic shoes to ride the missile and when you get too close jump off into the hole the missile will create
>>
>>30883043
1
>>
>>30883238
2
>>
>>30883043
2
>>
>>30883182
thisthisthisthisthis
>>
>>30883170
>>30883058
>>30883306
>>30883317
>>30883420
For future reference, when I go to a numeral vote please only include the number and a backlink to my post. This prevents quest samefagging.
I'll let it slide this time, but it's kind of a pet peeve.

Anyway, writing.
>>
>>30883501

Smart Advice BoogieMan. Also:

>>30883043

2
>>
>>30883501
You nearly break the button with anger when you press it to communicate. "Disco ain't dead! You are!"

You move to the dim screen and begin typing. You move the crosshairs to the ship and lock on. The interface responds with a message. "20% misfire chance. Engage?"

>Engage (roll 1d100, DC 20)
>(something else)
>>
Rolled 69

>>30883690
FIRE!
>>
Rolled 14

>>30883690
ENGAGE MISSILES
>>
>>30883782
Success!

Writing.
>>
>>30883829
With a click of the Enter key, you start a countdown for the missile. A feminine voice echoes from the speaker, "T minus twenty-five seconds to missile deployment. Twenty-four... twenty-three..."

You make haste to the missile chamber and open the hatch. Inside is a small rocket about your length. You climb inside and grip the missile's sides. When you slam the hatch shut, you can hear the hiss of an airlock decompressing.

"four... three... two... one..."

The thruster flares to life behind you, heating the chamber as you fly out toward the ship ahead. Being careful to stay low, you activate the magnets in your shoes and stand up as you approach the ship. Once you reach it, you leap away from the missile and send it careening into the ship's side. You land on the roof and stand up. Shards of glass, machines, structural pieces and all manner of wreckage are sucked out into space. The pilot, a large, black gunmetal robot, clings to the ship's floor as the air escapes.

He stares up at you, showing you what looks like a tarnished gold replacement jaw and a cracked eye camera. Sharp hooks extend from the bottoms of his feet, and as he stands they stab into the ship, giving him footing.

The robot lurches toward you with hate in his eyes.

>Enter combat!
>>
>>30884063
Oh, wait...

>Enter combat!
>Enter his ship
>(Something else)
>>
>>30884084
SLAP HIM SILLY
>COMBAT
>>
>>30884063
>>30884084
>Enter Combat!
Punch him in the face! Focus on mobility. With claws he has less chance for fancy footwork than we do.
>>
>>30884084
>Enter combat!

Can't stop the funk
>>
>>30884116
>>30884134
>>30884144
Writing!
>>
>>30884189
New fav quest. DISCO AINT DEAD!
>>
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>>30884189

Diggin' this Quest A Lot BoogieMan.
>>
>>30884189
You put one foot in front of the other as your opponent stands in front of you. He slams his large fists together and looks down at you, being about a foot taller than you.

>FIGHT: SERGEANT M.O.G.!
>Special Conditions: No Sound in Space (music- and sound-based special attacks are disallowed), Zero G

>Your health: 50
>Sergeant M.O.G.'s health: 75

Your opponent grins from behind his golden jaw and clenches his fists.

(Allow me to explain GGG combat. In this quest, when you attack an enemy, describe the action you intend to take and roll the required dice. This dice is variable.)

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 3)
>Magnets (1d10, DC 6)
>(something else)
>>
Rolled 3

>>30884554
>Melee attack
>>
>>30884577
(If It matters, I intend to smack him in the face)
>>
>>30884577
I should've been clearer. Describe the action with some detail, as in

>Melee
Run up and punch 'im!
>>
>>30884598
Oop, sorry. Didn't see your post.
>>
Rolled 4

>>30884554
>>Melee attack (1d6, DC 3)
Roundhouse kick him in the face.
>>
>>30884632
Writing!
>>
Rolled 1

>>30884654
You slowly approach the sergeant, carefully dodging his blows as you draw nearer. You jump into the air and extend your right foot in a powerful roundhouse kick. The magnets in your feet pull your foot to his face, adding power to the kick as it smashes into him. Pieces of glass from his broken eye tumble into space from the impact.

>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 5 damage
>Current health: 70

He snarls at you, his remaining eye glowing bright red.

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 3)
>Magnets (1d10, DC 6)
>(something else)

(Rolling for Sergeant M.O.G.)
>>
Rolled 7

>>30884751
Pull over a large piece of scrap metal for a disco cane!
>>
Rolled 4

>>30884751
>>Melee attack (1d6, DC 3)
Give him the ol' one two
>>
Rolled 2

>>30884751
Uppercut the SOB
>melee
>>
Rolled 9

>>30884751

>Magnets (1d10, DC 6)

See if you can find something to bash the Sarge's Head in, like a Pipe or something close enough to a Baseball Bat in size and go for a "Grand Slam" out into deep space...
>>
Rolled 3

Oh, and one more thing: during combat, only the first three rolls will be counted. Otherwise, you'd never fail!

>>30884840
Writing.
>>
>>30884918

I've seen plenty of dice fails in my day though (Case-In-Point: A certain Quest that shall not be named ending up with 5 consecutive rolls of 3 or lower using a 1d20 system)... But hey, your quest, your rules Boogie.
>>
Rolled 3

>>30885021
Which quest?
>>
Rolled 6

(Should've made this clearer: due to his size and crappy RAM, Sergeant MOG can only attack once every two rounds.)

>>30884918
As you land back on the ground, the sergeant attempts to swing at you with his powerful arm. However, you manage to dodge out of the way, sending his arm smashing into the ground. While he struggles to free himself, you take a few good swings at him, moving quickly and precisely.

>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 2 damage
>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 1 damage
>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 1 damage
>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 2 damage
>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 1 damage
>Current health: 63

When he rips his arm from the ground, it brings a collar of metal with it. You step backward and prepare to strike again.

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 3)
>Magnets (1d10, DC 6)
>(something else)
>>
Rolled 8

>>30885065
>>Magnets (1d10, DC 6)
Wave your boots over him to disrupt his systems.
>>
>>30885104
Writing.
>>
Rolled 9

>>30885051

The One I run: The King of Fighter's Quest... Though I don't like to advertise it in other threads outside of /qtg/.

>>30885065

Sticking by my first suggestion in >>30884902.
>>
>>30885125
You run around behind the sergeant and, before he can turn around, run up and stand on his back. You slam your boot down on the back of his head, sending gears flying. You can hear an error message from his speaker as you stand back down and run in front of him.

"Critical failure. Rebooting..." he says in a soothing, ladylike voice.

>Sergeant M.O.G. takes 3 damage
>Sergeant M.O.G. is inactive for the next three rounds.

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)
>Magnets (1d10, DC 4)
>(something else)
>>
Rolled 8

>>30885194
Ohhh... By the way, you got another 9.
>>
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>>30885216
I'm surprised no one's noticed, but I got trips twice in this thread. Woo woo, cool guy over here.
>>
Rolled 2

>>30885209
Please hold the magnet to his critical systems for those 3 rounds.
>>
>>30885209
>Examine his structure for weak points
>>
>>30885209
Hurl him into space
>>
Rolled 6

>>30885216

Still didn't reply fast enoughto get it to count though...

>>30885209

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)

Intergalactic GHETTO STOMP HIS SHINY METAL ASS!
>>
Rolled 4

>>30885209
>>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)
Toss him out the hole in his ship.
>>
>>30885269
CRITICAL SUCCESS!
Writing!
>>
>>30885300
You take advantage of his inactivity and run back across the hull of the ship. He stands on the top, next to the ship's left wing, his eye glowing blue with white lettering inside. You rear back around and sprint toward him, and once you come near you leap into the air and smash into his face.

The impact sends him careening back, causing the hook in one of his feet to snap off. He is now held to the ship's bow by only one leg, and the other one dangles in the air.

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)
>Magnets (1d10, DC 4)
>(something else)
>>
Rolled 1

>>30885375
>>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)
Push him off into the void.
>>
Rolled 5

>>30885375

>Melee attack (1d6, DC 2)

Knock him into deep space with an Uppercut.
>>
Rolled 7

>>30885375
Magnet his metal mind!!!
>>
>>30885385
>>30885385
>>30885419
>tfw no funky fresh finishing move...
See you later disco cat!
>>
>>30885462

Maybe do some sort of funky dance move, THEN Uppercut the Sarge into deep space?
>>
>>30885419
You glare at his blank, unresponsive face as anger within you grows. You clench one fist and wind it up behind your head.

"Pfft. 'Disco's dead'. Yeah, right."

Your punch makes him recoil, sending gears, bolts and screws flying. His golden jaw comes unhinged and floats away. Though you can't hear it, you see the other hook snap as his entire body begins to drift upward like a ragdoll. His remaining eye blinks back to life and he looks around in horror. As he disappears into space he desperately tries to swim back, but to no avail.

You're left alone on the ship for a moment before a shadow drifts near from the space station. A small spaceship, colored lime green and deep purple with psychedelic patterns drifts nearer. Its landing gear creates a magnetic field and latches onto the wrecked ship. The airlock door opens up.

In the front windshield you can see the little round robot you'd contacted before, waving at you with one short arm.

>Enter the ship
>(something else)
>>
>>30885535
Sorry for the confusion, forgot the "writing" notice there.
>>
>>30885535
>>Enter the ship
>>
>>30885585
Writing.
>>
>>30885555
(I have gotten trips three times in this thread. I am officially the trippiest QM.)

You step up the ladder and into the airlock. The door shuts behind you and you finally relax as the normal feeling of air pressure returns. The door slides open and you walk inside the ship. The pilot's chair swivels around, revealing the little ball robot. He is indeed a sphere covered in reflective screens. Two short, thin arms extend from either side, and a pair of rubbery tires barely breach his chassis on the bottom. A pair of equidistant white squares moves from screen to screen as they examine you. He hops down and moves to shake your hand.

"I think I already introduced myself, but I'm Corporal Hustle. Thank goodness you're alright, Commander! You took quite a hit back there. Are you feeling okay?"

>"Well, I can't seem to remember a dang thing!"
>"Everything's all good. Let's just roll."
>"something else"
>>
>>30885772
>>"Well, I can't seem to remember a dang thing!"
>>
>>30885817
Writing.
>>
>>30885772
>Well, I can't seem to remember a thing, but otherwise my groove is strong and my moves tight. Let's roll.
>>
>>30885826
"Well, I can't seem to remember a dang thing!" you lament as you scratch your head.

The squares of light on Hustle's face widen slightly as he asks you to sit down in the passenger's chair. You do so, and Hustle stands on a small circle on the floor. With the press of a button the circle rises up on a trio of poles. Hustle digs through your afro, pulls out a pair of cords and gasps.

"Well here's the problem! Your D drive got severed from the operating system. You're on factory settings, Commander! Here, this'll just take a moment."

You watch through the rear-view mirror as Hustle's right arm extends, a tiny soldering iron at its tip. He carefully places it between the broken wire ends and burns them together. When he pulls his arm away, you can feel your memories returning.

>D Drive unlocked! It will be available to read in the next thread.

You are Commander Jive, a government and military figure on the Asteroid Belts of the Dysko Commonwealth. You were on a goodwill mission to the last remaining space station of Polchah, seeking to give their eccentric kind asylum. However, tragedy struck when the station was invaded by a battalion from the Rok Monarchy. You fought as well as you could, and only managed to survive by dragging yourself to the first mate's room.

Your memories finish returning, and you look back to Hustle. His platform has descended, and he rolls back into his chair.

"Ready to head home, Commander?" he asks.

>"Ready to go."
>"Hold on... (something else)"
>>
>>30886108
>>"Hold on... (something else)"
Let's raid the barracks for weapons.
>>
>>30886108
>"Ready to go."
>>
>>30886108
>>"Ready to go."
>>
>>30886108
>"Ready to go."

Groovy.
>>
>>30886178
>>30886197
You give Hustle a thumbs-up sign.
"Let's boogie."

He grabs the steering wheel and turns the key. Your seatbelts automatically plug themselves in, and a comfortable wave of heat flows from your seat. Hustle grabs a full, closed can of soda and throws it at the gas pedal. It wedges in, sending you flying.

And thus, the adventure of Commander Jive began.

>Hope you enjoyed this episode of the Great Galactic Groove! I have a very full playe this week, so see you Friday for the next episode!
>>
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>>30886280

Shine on you Crazy Diamond... And Get Down On It all the same BoogieMan.
>>
>>30886280
This was fun
>>
>>30886280
(that's, uh, full PLATE this week.)

>>30886338
Oh stop it you
>>
>>30886280
Disco will never die, so long as we keep the groove in out hearts and souls.


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