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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Nechronica Thread!

> Where do I get an English translation of this Japanese tabetop RPG?

- The unofficial translation wiki is both the most up today's updated and has the latest version of the PDF
- You can play Nechronica on Tabetop Simulator. Check the Workshop for resources.

Last time:
> Port Storytime!
> Hinder and support builds!
> Tokens!

Previous thread:
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Has anyone tried using the Mount and Rider combo to represent a Tank and it's turret?
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Alice requiem.
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I've only played the one game of Nechronica, but balance seemed to be quite shonky.

Greatsword wielding thanatos holic with antenna would use calamity to wipe a full zone clean of adds once per turn. The other two were worse, using only a single ability to be too powerful. Psychadelic would use pawns gambit to shut down any single foes, especially melee foes, or alternatively stick the thanatos in the enemy zone. And the ghoul could basically outheal any incoming damage using feast of flesh.

What am I supposed to do to challenge this party?
I think they may be using the rules wrong.

Also combat is gnerally where dolls hsould be strong. becuase you can get a TPK just from it talking TOO LONG to kill everything on the field due to the madness accumulation at the end of each turn and the fact that every PC starts with all their fetters one point from full.
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>Volunteered to run a game for the first time with just two days to prep
>players are my two Nech DMs and a player from one of the groups
>cram for two days straight, put together a basic gameplan and generate six premade Dolls for the players to choose from
Though one player/DM gave me a hand with some of the chargen and wrapping up some loose ends.
>was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it stretched into four because people were roleplaying so much [and also because we had some scheduling issues on night 3].
>glowing reception from all the players
>but I probably undertuned combat, only really hurt the one of them while the other two got off pretty light
Though part of that is
1. the friendly NPC they'd rescued landed a fat crit on the Savant's head. Sniper Rifle is a bit more dangerous than I gave it credit for.
2. I got overwhelmed by the bookkeeping for my first run and didn't run things as well as I should have. I think I may have also picked on the wrong targets.

Can't storytime tonight, but might tomorrow.

>Greatsword wielding thanatos holic with antenna would use calamity to wipe a full zone clean of adds once per turn
I assume you mean Great Knife? Even against Legions, the GK only hits for an 8. Four damage for anything else unless you crit really hard. For a range 0 melee attack that's fine but kind of unimpressive. What are you putting up against them that this is enough to wipe out a zone?
>And the ghoul could basically outheal any incoming damage using feast of flesh.
Feast of Flesh is only one basic part per AP. That's pretty inefficient unless she's being smacked around by a small Legion, which aren't a serious threat to anyone.

Run us through an example of how you guys do the combat at your table/what you're putting the players up against. There's a bit here that doesn't quite add up properly.
Coming up with horrors is fun

Was one of his players..
Can confirm, I had a wonderful time.

I think this was the fastest I've ever gone from
"welp time to figure things out" to "in character, in the zone".

I'll not spoil anything else tonight.
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>Coming up with horrors is fun
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Savants are also fun.
What are some of the best use of of parts or skills you've seen outside of combat?

I've had fun seeing my players leverage their strange biology to do things, or take the time to describe the little differences in how their characters do mundane things like climb stairs, or wait patiently.

>I assume you mean Great Knife? Even against Legions, the GK only hits for an 8. Four damage for anything else unless you crit really hard. For a range 0 melee attack that's fine but kind of unimpressive. What are you putting up against them that this is enough to wipe out a zone?

He said a holic/Thanatos with antenna, he could have been using Drama of Death and Fury to do a total of 14 damage with calamity, at least against legions, assuming they didn't have gauntlet/Super Strength, which they wouldn't have in char gen but could pick up quick enough. More realistically they're doing 6+Area, which is enough to knock a big chunk out of legions and one shot a lot of enemies in the book and badly maul weaker ones. It's not really that unbalanced since the combo can be cockblocked by a few enemy only parts/meat shield but a new GM relying on the stuff in the book can be run over by it.

>Feast of Flesh is only one basic part per AP. That's pretty inefficient unless she's being smacked around by a small Legion, which aren't a serious threat to anyone.

Actually, a stacy/gothic doing that is pretty damn good if you know what you're doing. Sure it's one part, but if a hit location gets destroyed, you can pay 1 AP to bring back a single part in that location and then just eat even AT rifles to that location and only lose that one part.

>What am I supposed to do to challenge this party?

Meatshield is one way and there's also the enemy only parts Counter-Attack Equipment and Protective Gear for the Calamity. Explosive will outpace Feast of Flesh cheese and Immovable will counter Pawn's Gambit's movement.

If you want more specific shit, give PC stats and any fanworks you might be using.

There's always the classic "Let's use our intestines as rope to get somewhere."

And figuring out how weird PCs handle things is fun, like a character that's long and inflexible with short legs needing the others to carry her up the stairs like a mattress.
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Thanatos is just running over everything in the book in about a turn or two. I forgot to mention the super strength and gauntlets, thanatos has those too. It's especially effective with assistance from the Psychadelic/Requiem who can push enemies into the cleave range and give good fire support with their shotgun/AT rifle.

The issue with feast of flesh is that it really only takes a single miss form an enemy for the ghoul to get an opportunity to get all their parts back- most attacks don't do much more damage than their AP cost, at least not within the book. And as long as explosives aren't used to hit multiple locations, the ghoul just regens a destroyed location. It's annoying enough I'm considering just house ruling you can't regen anything in a destroyed location in combat. One highlight was the ghoul tanking 3 meat shredders at once for a couple turns while thana and psych cleaned up another zone.

I have considered making up some 'infestation' mechanic, with plant seeds that burrow into flesh or something, to disable a part without damage it, so the ghoul has to spend time damaging their injured parts before they regenerate them.

Beyond that... I guess I might need more long range attacks, more explosives, and give all my singular baddies push immunity. And maybe accept that legions will achieve little as long as the Thanatos exists.
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But if your Gothic is spending 2 AP to get two basic parts back every time she's hit by a Shredder then she's basically just been staggered in exchange for not taking any damage, which is arguably worse than just tanking a hit to the Entrails and going off on the opponent, and if you do manage to land a dismember then all the reinforcement parts in that section are going by-by anyway. FoF doesn't work on them.

Three Shredders just focusing on the one character for two turns is like 10-15 attacks with dismember and +1 to hit. Even if the dice absolutely hate you, that's still going to be two turns one of your dolls is just kind of existing on the battlefield.

What are your players part lists? It really feels like I'm missing a big part of the picture here.
Ooh, I'm stealing that infestation mechanic idea. Thanks.
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>Thanatos is just running over everything in the book in about a turn or two. I forgot to mention the super strength and gauntlets, thanatos has those too.

Yeah, that'd do it. Great Knife isn't the strongest T3 Melee, but with that set up, it'll do against anything in the book, which is your main problem. The enemies in the book aren't really made to last long against competently built PCs. They're too fragile. You're going to have to start custom building enemies and tossing on defends/more parts to act as ablative shielding.

>One highlight was the ghoul tanking 3 meat shredders at once for a couple turns.

Do you mean a few counts? Because a turn is complete run down the AP track (as in from the first action of the turn to count 0), if not, what the fuck was even going on there that took that long? Actually, do they even have protect? If not, what's stopping enemies from focusing on the others?

>more long range attacks, more explosives, and give all my singular baddies push immunity

Yes, you should. Also consider deploying enemies with higher mobility so they can scatter if you don't want to just outright negate every use of calamity. Hopper or animal legs should do, or bully the Thanatos with Boost. You should be mixing more efficient enemy attacks in with the fodder as well to mitigate Feast of Flesh tomfoolery. Remember that you not only have every class skill (except for Instantaneous/Psychedelic skills) and part (except for madness related ones) but also whatever you can come up with to throw in the ring.

And Pic related for enemy only parts that are in the book and relevant. Technically, the psyche could try to argue that Pawn's gambit isn't a stagger so it'd still trigger AP loss, but you could just as easily argue it wouldn't work because it's outright negated, not hindered. Or kill them for disagreeing with you.

This honestly sounds like they have a decent spread for controlling things that you aren't pushing back on.

>I have considered making up some 'infestation' mechanic, with plant seeds that burrow into flesh or something, to disable a part without damage it, so the ghoul has to spend time damaging their injured parts before they regenerate them.

And how would this work? You get to choose what gets "infested"? Personally, wouldn't go for that approach because you're adding a more complicated way of doing something when you're not utilizing what's already available.
For some extra (necessary?) context, there were six pregen characters from the three players to choose from
>The team’s leader by virtue of both rank and demeanor. Tall, athletic, and well built. Her body went largely unmodified by the transformation, excepting the auxiliary communication system implanted in the rear of her skull. She utilizes her psychic abilities to lead from the front, and is arguably the most stable among her team.
>Memory Fragments: Wheat Field, Cradle
>Treasure: Stuffed Dog. A stuffed animal made to resemble a black sheep dog. It’s soft and warm. When you look at it, you can almost remember it’s name.

>Due to her small size, Dahlia was slated for sapping work. Unfortunately, she was too clumsy to handle very many explosives at once so she was shuffled into the squad as the team’s heavy ordinance operator. She is always in bright spirits when she’s alongside her sisters. She claims that her time at the facility has been the best time in all her life.
>Memory Fragments: Clean, Abandoned
>Treasure: Unit Patch. The patch you received upon being assigned to your unit. It’s covered in bright, purple flowers. They’re really beautiful. You take great care to keep it spotless.

>The newest member of the unit. Tall and quiet. She keeps her dark hair much longer than regulations would permit; if Aqen has noticed he hasn’t said anything. She has a habit of trying to push boundaries wherever and whenever she can, from asking the requisitions officer for more supplies to bothering the patrol scheduler for more off-time to pushing the absolute boundaries of her own flesh and blood. She will keep pushing until something breaks. Either herself or the obstacle before her.
>Memory Fragments: Birthplace, Happy Times
>Treasure: Steel Fork. A plain, clean fork. It rings pleasantly when you tap it against things. You thought you lost it on patrol one day, but Aqen returned it to you. Where did he find it?
>Squad doorkicker. Her usual method of operation is to move in just behind Aster and fire over her shoulders. She has a more robust build than most girls on the team and an odd fascination with axes. She never blinks, and does not like it when Aster sneaks up behind her.
>Memory Fragments: Thrown Away, Friends
>Treasure: Mirror. A little makeup mirror with a plastic back. Your mentor showed you how to check corners with this.

>The squad’s communications specialist. Minus the basic skeletal enhancements, the only modification to her body is the extensive communications system that rides on top of her spinal cord. Mousey and quiet, generally. She scored top marks in every single firearms training course Aqen put her through and he regards her as one of his more impressive achievements.
>Memory Fragments: Maturity, Gifted Students
>Treasure: Your Eyes. Your old eyes. They could not serve in your new roll, and were removed. Aqen preserved them in glass for you. They’re so blue...

>One of the few attack dogs still at the Facility. She is constantly hungry and has a tendency to hoard all things she considers to be ‘her possessions.’ In battle she moves like a wolf. She bites like one too. Some of the girls have made fun of her for drooling when she gets excited.
>Memories: Monetary Greed, Evil
>Treasure: A Doll. It looks like her. Like someone you know. Did you make this? It smells like iron.

Dolls picked were: Aster, Dhalia, and Violet.

And with that done, on to the story.
I'm so lucky to have players who know the system better than I do who help me.
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For chosen characters:
Aster is a Holic, Gothic/Baroque.Tall and willowy with a heavily mutated pair of legs.
Violet's a Court Requiem with an Undead Gun fluffed as an automatic cannon and Twin Pistols fluffed as an SMG
Dahlia's an Alice Thanatos/Requiem with a rocket launcher.

>The cold black of stasis falls away abruptly, leaving the three dolls staring at the dust-caked glass of their stasis pods. There's a moment of blank silence before a lattice of blurred, orange pixels project themselves over the interior of their corneas. Block text begins to scroll itself over your fields of vision.
>Violet's pod hisses as the pneumatic systems keeping it in place give way and the stasis tank's panel slides upward. Dust and ash flow out in great, billowing clouds as the debris falls away. She recognizes this room; it's a stasis holding area. There are six tubes here, counting hers. Three of them are charred black from the inside, two others appear inert from where she is. The squat blast door on the far end of the room has buckled under some great amount of weight and there are fissures in the ceiling and walls. The only lighting comes from the dull amber emergency lamp on the top of the blast door, casting everything in the room in sharp relief. >Something is wrong.
>Dahlia's and Aster's doors creak weakly, but do not move.
>Violet stretches and looks around, eyes widening as she registers being the only one standing. She raises her voice with an edge of fear that she winces at once she hears it leave her mouth. "Ladies? If you can hear me sound off."
>"Wh-what?" Dhalia questions as she finds herself sitting in heavy darkness, text flashing familiarly across her eyes. "Hey!" She batters at her door with her foot. "My door won't open!"
Another thing I forgot: Every character has an extra skill as a part of this game.
>Cost: -- Timing: Rapid Range: Self
Moving on.

>A spiderweb crack develops under Dhalia's heel, but the door doesn't give. Outside, the dust shifts abruptly and a dull 'thud' overpowers the quiet.
>Aster blinks at the scrolling text in her vision, lost in a momentary haze. She places her hands against the dusty glass pane, A muffled voice can be heard and a violent strike against it shatters the thick tube. Aster pokes her head out, looking around the room. "Wha happn?" She asks sleepily.
>Violet Jumps as Aster tears he way out of the pod. She speaks slowly as she backs toward Dahlia's tube. "Aster? Are you alright? Can you hear me? Anything broken? Do you remember me?"
>As she backs up her boot heal connects with the manual release lever to Dahlia's pod, and she stops in place flipping the lever while balancing on one leg.
>Aster blinks at Violet vacantly before perking up and trotting over, "Hi Violet!" She says happily while crouching on her dog-like legs. "What's going on?"
>A rumble reverberates through the room. Dust falls from the ceiling and the emergency lamp flickers.
>Violet holds her arms out for a hug. "Oh, good. Come here Aster."
>As Dahlia's pod opens she glances around anxiously, grasping her shovel and leaning out. "Hey! Aster's not a dog!"
>Aster grins happily before jumping into Violets arms and scooping the smaller girl up. "I'm glad you're here, I don't know what's going on." Aster turns toward Dahlia as she emerges from her pod. "Dahlia HI! HI! Dahlia!" She waves happily.
>"Oof." Violet bounces off the side of the pod, having no way to back up to absorb the impact of Aster and balancing on one leg.

>Cost: -- Timing: Rapid Range: Self

What the Greentext fails to convey is that, unlike the rest of the skills on our sheets.
The text for this mysterious skill were in Black Letters surrounded by Red Highlighting.
>She manages to push off the pod and take two steps forward with Aster in her arms. "I'm glad to see you too buddy." She pats her on the back before letting her go. "The Boss said orders are forthcoming and to avoid capture until then."
>"Capture from what? And... what about the others?" Dahlia eyes the other pods, worriedly. "The facility is... very damaged."
>"You're right. Dahlia." Violet's face falls as she looks at the other pods, lingering in Diana's. "On all counts."
>She sighs.
>"Alright. Let's get them out of there, before the roof caves in."
>Violet approaches the nearest occupied pod and checks the status monitor and manual release lever.
>All electrical systems on the pod are dark. But the manual release does wobble slightly as Violet tugs against the lock.
>Aster drops to the ground, easily absorbing the drop with her abnormal legs before trotting over the Dahlia and giving her a hug around the waist. "Where is everyone else?" She asks, looking around. "Are they in the other pods?"
>Violet swallows again. Then raises her voice. "Dahlia, Aster. Check if there's an egress or if were going to have to dig our way out. I'll wake up the rest of the squad."
>"Ok Violet!" Aster replies happily before awkwardly hopping over to the door, before getting pushed behind Dahlia as she insists on going first.
>"Sorry, sorry." Dahlia apologizes, before examining the door critically, trying to determine how likely it was to fall. Setting a deep assessment aside for the moment, she knelt a little and saw how much she could see without actually poking her head through the opening.
>The blast door has buckled under the weight of... something. The frame is bowed out at the sides; the top half of the shield has fallen and gotten stuck in its nominal locking position while the bottom shield is still in the floor. Amber light from an emergency lamp spills over the floor.
>Dahlia is short enough that she can see outward into the corridor beyond.
>The hallway beyond the doorway is similarly poorly lit. The concrete walls narrow abruptly past the blast door's frame into a slim hallway, metal doors open off the hall every twenty paces or so. Farther down, a break in the ceiling has caused a partial cave-in blocking at least one door and obscuring any further observation, though it doesn't look serious enough that it couldn't be climbed over.
>The doors are in varying condition. One near the the rockfall looks warped, but not absolutely wrecked. One door closer to the stasis room looks completely fine.
>Once the others have moved out of line of sight, Violet takes a breath, squares her shoulders, sets her chin, and pulls the lever on Jin’s pod.
>Jin's pod door springs up as the bolt opens.
>Jin is... gone. All that remains of her is a blackened skeleton and the burnt rags of her uniform. Her squad patch, a circular badge emblazoned with orchid-colored tropical blooms is now only an ashy purple. It's the only spot of color left in the otherwise black ash pile. Her fork is woven between the bones of her left hand.
[Violet fails a madness check]
>Violet puts a hand over her nose and mouth to catch her gasp before it can escape. Her pupils narrow. With her other hand, shaking she reaches in to take what's left of Jin's personal effects. No sister left behind.
>Dahlia hesitates for a moment, instinctively waiting for Coco to take the lead. But she was-- still in stasis at the moment. Kneeling under and through, she awkwardly waves Aster after her and eyes the doors and the collapse. "Partial block, going to check it out." She calls under the door to Violet before moving forward to investigate.
>Keeping herself gagged with one hand, Violet pockets Jin's patch and fork. She then closes the pod, wobbles her way back to standing fully erect, and trudges toward Coco's pod.
>Kneeling, she reaches for the lever.
>Coco's pod pops open, throwing soot into the air. The only actually recognizable object in the ash pile is her tomahawk, though the grips have been burned away. There's a lump of plastic melted over her ribs where her heart would be. Glass shards glint in the ash beneath.
>Violet falls onto her back and crawls backward on all threes into the middle of the room before stopping. Her cheeks heave in and out and her ears pop as her lungs try to hyperventilate in a sealed space.
>After a moment she manages to throw herself forward and walks forward on her knees. letting go of her face she reaches in with both hands to take the patch and disentangle the tomahawk from Coco's remains.
>The bone pile collapses as she disturbs it
>Violet closes her eyes and reaches up to pull the pod lever, standing up as it closes. Once it seals, she leans against it for a bit trying to collect herself while she attempts to pack away the patch and damaged weapon. On the fourth try she gets it.
>Aster turns down the hallway when she hears Dahlia and bounds up the heap of collapsed metal plating, rocks and dirt to look over the top.
>"Careful!" Dahlia hisses worriedly after her, following quickly in her wake. "You might shift the pile!"
>"Sorry!" Aster calls back not sounding sorry at all.
>The hallway continues on a little ways past the rockfall before transforming into an open gantry walk. She can't see very much from here but the emergency lighting from beyond the hallway outlines several conical machines rising out of the dark and flanking the path ahead. By her memory, they're... generators?
>"Hallway is clear past here!" Aster calls back down the hallway. "Emergency lights are still on."
>"Alright, let's head back." Dahlia eyes the doors as she waits for Aster to come down. "We should check the rooms as a group. Just in case."
>Aster wiggles out of the gap before bounce-hopping her way back to Dahlia. "Ok, do you think we'll find anything down here?"
>"Maybe. Some of these doors look fine, so the room behind them..." She shrugs, leading the way back to the stasis chambers.
>After a few seconds Violet opens her eyes.
>"You have to stand tall, so they have someone to lean on." She says to herself under her breath. Then she steels herself and walks toward the final pod.
>She pulls the manual release.
>The door creaks open with a pained squeal. Diana's shield and mace flank her corpse like relics on a viking funeral pyre. Her arms are crossed over her chest, as if to cradle something. Two black glass beads glint in the ash pile below her sternum.
>Violet sniffs and wipes her eyes, unknowingly smudging her face with Coco's ashes, then stands at attention and gives a salute.
>After a moment she stands at ease. "I'll get them out of here Sis, don't worry. Tell Jin and Coco they're bitches, and give them a hug for me."
>She leans forward and reaches up. "I'll make sure to find a nice spot for you."
>She, scoops the two bead eyes into a plastic bag, then clutches Diana's skull and twists it loose, and very carefully packs it into her rucksack.
>After her cargo is secure, she pulls the lever to seal the pod and heads for the door, she ducks as she approaches.
>She runs into Aster and Dahlia just beyond the threshold.
>Aster smiles teasingly at Dahlia. "Think we'll find any ghooosts? WooOooo" She says wiggling her fingers at her.
>Dahlia rolls her eyes. "We'd better not. I left my cross with my g-rave." She hoped they didn't find any ghosts. They were zombies, not exorcists.
>"What did you find, ladies?" Violet asks.
>"Powers still on!" Aster chirps.
>"Emergency Lights are on. At the very least, primary power's off." Dahlia corrects, eyeing Aster before turning back to Violet, "Collapse blocks most of the corridor, but there's a gap at the top. It's passable. Didn't collapse on Aster when she rushed up ahead without letting me check it out first..."
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My drug eater's name is Tako Luka, and she is the prettiest.
How are drug eaters? They seem really fucking interesting.
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Sorry for that delay. I laid down to chill a second and just kind of passed out for two hours.

>Dahlia coughs. "Anyway. Most of the side rooms seem fucked - doors're wrecked - but there are a few that seem alright."
>Aster pouts, for a moment before rapidly getting over it and returns to smiling at Violet.
>Violet nods. "Very good."
>"Diana, Coco, and Jin have gone to reconnoiter the Great Beyond. I've gathered their patches and remaining personal effects for last rights once we're out of here."
>Aster's smile suddenly drops off her face. "W-what?" Aster whimpers.
>Dahlia blinks. "...What?"
>Violet continues. "From what I can tell they never felt a thing. They've left us to carry on in their place. We will keep them in our memories, and give them their last rights outside, in the sun, as they deserve."
>A long, low rumble carries through the facility.
>Aster bursts into loud, messy tears.
>"We..." Dahlia swallows, glancing to the blackened stasis tubes, then flinching and snapping her gaze back to Violet, "We need to go. Rooms, check...?"
>Violet nods quickly at Dahlia's words. "Yes. Let's not waste any time."
>She looks over at Aster, then back to Dahlia with a desperately lost look on her face.
>"Okay." Dahlia says. "Okay. Left, right? There should be a medical... somewhere." She looks to Aster, "They... Come on, we've gotten back up before, right? We just need to stay calm and get out for now. Aqen might be able to help."
>Aster sniffs and whimpers "Ok," before controlling herself, quietly hiccupping every few moments.
>Abruptly, orange text overlays the dolls' vision.
>A small orange minimap flickers to life in the bottom right corner of their eyes. It's... it feels incomplete. But it's there. A path winds outward from the stasis room, to the north east. Rooms branch off from the corridor leading directly from the stasis room, though several are notably dark.
>Violet checks her weapons. "Alright ladies. Fall in. First we clear the office, then the Medical wing."
>"Stack up. Aster take point."
>Aster does so, wiping her eyes before jumping through the nearest door with teeth bared.
>It's an office.
>There's no emergency lighting here, but the light reflecting off the bottom of the floor through the doorframe is enough for Aster's augmented eyes to catch.
>There's a corpse slumped backward in an office chair, behind the desk. The computer screen to their side is completely dark.
>There are two craters in the far wall, opposite the door and level with where the corpse's head would have been if they were sitting up.
>Aster sweeps her eyes around the makeshift tomb. "Clear, one Tango Uniform."
>"Acknowledged." Violet lowers her weapon and checks for evidence of a time frame of events. A calendar on the wall, paperwork in the trash, ticket stubs in the corpse's wallet, expiration date of credit card, etc.
>"What're you looking for?" Dahlia whispers.
>"Timeframe. evidence of when this happened."
>The dolls begin tearing the room apart. There's little of note to be found, however. There's a map of the facility in one of the drawers but most of the actual documentation has to do with idle bookkeeping. That or casual electronic correspondence.
You need to insert blank lines between your paragraphs sometimes so that it doesn't read like endless paragraphs.
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>"Too long to matter." Dahlia hisses back. "Our pods were buried in dust. Answer's 'Fucklong' ago. Anything important?"
>"You're right." She grabs the map and hands it to Dahlia. "Nothing else as far as I can tell. Let's move on."
>They move up the hall, coming up to another door which is bowed inward, but still looks workable. The room behind it on their map is marked as 'medical.'
>Violet tiptoes up and puts her ear up to the medical door.
>The facility itself rumbles quietly but there's no actual noise beyond the door into the medical room.
>She whispers "I hear nothing. Stack up. Second verse same as the first." She backs away and gets in position.
>Aster flings open the door and leaps into the room, to find...
>The door crunches loudly as Aster's claws lock down on the edge and squeeze. It squeals as she peels it open.
>The scene beyond could almost be described as carnage, if it weren't so old. What used to have been a field hospital has effectively transformed into a morgue. Every single bed is occupied with a corpse. Medical personnel lay on the floor, riddled with bullets.
>The far interior corner of the room is black with soot; the two beds there have had all but their metal frames reduced to ash.
>"Clear, Multiple Tango Uniforms." Aster moves toward the burned beds, looking for any sign of who the occupants were.
>"Thoughts on circumstances of death?" Violet asks as she checks the facility for anything that may be useful in repairing themselves or restoring parts.
>"No idea." Aster mutters, picking through the burned debris.
[All Perception Check. Dahlia succeeds. Everyone else fails... pretty badly.]
>Dahlia kneels down to sift through the ashes in the corner. Her hand comes up with an ash-covered badge. The words along the bottom are mostly gone but it's in the same format as her own, with the center dominated by a yellow daffodil. The skeleton's hand also rests on a pistol, as if the doll had been prepared to fire.
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I'll try and keep it in mind. I'm juggling a few things atm so I'm admittedly not doing the formatting as well as I should.

>"They were a Lazarus Unit." Dahlia observes, "They were drawing their pistol... but... why are they...?"
>The facility rumbles.
>"Perhaps whoever shot the doctors," Violet speculates aloud. "Nothing salvageable here. Let's move on."

>As the dolls file out of the room and over the rubble pile they find themselves on an expansive gantry, overlooking an apparently bottomless pit. The amber emergency lights only outline the very tops of a sextuplet of hydroelectric generators. Across the way is a blank concrete wall that spans far and away outside of their field of view.
>Orange letters spring up in their vision.

>Aster freezes, almost scuffing her feet on the metal catwalk but grabbing onto the handrail at the last second and stopping herself.
>Violet almost faceplants as she grinds to a stop but manages to silently windmill herself back onto her heels then plant her feet all in flailing silence.
>Three men appear out of the shadows from the south, walking along a metal pathway bolted to the far wall. Two of them are outfitted in full winter kit; bright white winter jackets, light gray pants, heavy boots, and face obscuring gas masks. Each of them is holding a rifle. They're flanking a man in orange coveralls who appears to be wheeling a set of tanks for an oxyacetylene torch.
>They're bootsteps echo loudly in the wide expanse of the generator chamber. They don't appear to notice the dolls.
>The dolls begin to creep forward as quietly as the gantry will allow them.
[all dolls pass an action check to remain unnoticed.]
>Once they're close enough, Violet rushes in and takes the nearest guard out at the knees, bringing him down for Dahlia to finish him.
>Dahlia's shovel sinks into the man's neck. It almost cuts his head off, but catches on the man's collar bone, so he's only nearly headless.
>Aster stalks ahead like a predator, her demeanor changing entirely as she quickly and quietly approaches the farthest armed guard. Her hands reach out, one covering his mouth, the other tearing his spine from the back of his neck, leaving his head to flop forward on the remaining skin and muscle.
>With him dead, Aster wheels on the last man staring him down and waiting for any hostile movements.

>In a fit of adrenaline, the man in orange heaves his gas tanks at the dolls and bolts for the northern exit. It clatters loudly against the metal grating of the walkway, but goes wide of the dolls themselves.
>Aster whips her arm forward, a coil of wire unspooling and shooting through the air, wrapping around the man's torso and yanking him back onto the floor.
>"Don't scream." Aster says menacingly as she crouches over her target. "If you try you'll be dead before you realize it."
>Violet runs to secure the man's arms. "Blindfold him." she hisses.
>The man hisses in pain as Violet pulls him off the ground. "All right, all right. I'm not stupid, I'll shut up!"
>Dahlia smiles, waving her bloodied shovel into view as she sheathes it. "Good boy! Let's take a walk, alright?" Then she covers his eyes with her hands. There's some blood spatter on the backs of the palms.
>Aster follows close behind ready to jump back into violence at a moments notice. She stops as they near the two soldier's corpses and kneeling to search their bodies.
>While they walk, Violet ties his wrists together with a length of string. "Now. Let's start with the basics. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
>He sneers as the yarn tightens around his wrists. "Johnny Malden. I'm a welder. I'm here to weld."
>"And you've been doing a good job of it too. What union are you with? Who hired you?"
>He grunts as she tightens the thread again. "Independent contractor bein' paid by the Oculus Corps. If you want to know what they're here for, they're moving boxes. They don't tell me what's in them."

>Text scrolls over the dolls' vision.
>.. ESCAPE TO POSITION 85.34, -41.08
>Time remaining: 01:26:12
>… 01:26:11
>… 01:26:10
>A small blip appears on the map, far to the northeast of the facility.

>Behind them, on the south end of the walkway, there's a towering sliding door. Johnny's work is apparent; it's been stitched shut from top to bottom.
>"Then why'd you weld the door shut?" Dahlia asks sweetly, "Wouldn't that make it harder to move the boxes?"
>Violet shoves Johnny forward, toward the northern exit.
>"What the hell is that?" she asks as the roof rumbles.
>Johnny's walk is awkward. Being at least two feet taller than Dahlia, he has to keep himself lowered to keep from breaking away from her grip on accident. "Because they're done here. I guess. They don't tell me specifics but there's just one truck parked in the motor pool." He quirks his head in Violet's direction as she speaks, though he doesn't make to break Dahlia's grip. "They ain't done everywhere. Other parts of the valley are hot, hot, hot."
>Violet makes a face. "How very industrious. Fancy a drive Johnny? Are you a fan of the weather this time of year?" She asks as they move down the road toward the motor pool.
>Aster falls in line. "Guards had nothing interesting, took the guns and radios."
>Johnny stumbles over a sandbag as they pass through the north exit and into a narrow tunnel. The lights in the tunnel are out. As the dolls continue into the darkness a soft, amber wireframe overlays their vision denoting the path of the tunnel. "I fuckin' hate the snow, to be honest. The halftrack they're packin' in the pool does all right in the deep stuff if you don't hammer the throttle, I hear."
>"Say Mr, do you know why we're here?" Dahlia's tone is threatening. If it phases Johnny, he doesn't show it.
>"I assume opfor?" The confusion in his voice is pretty blatant. "Oculus is up here smacking around a zombie daycare or somethin'. I dunno. They hauled me up here to move boxes and seal up all the bulkheads."

>Violet jabs a thumb, pointing down the tunnel. Not that anyone can see it in the dark. "Aster take a listen ahead, not too far. I don't want us walking into a trap."
>Aster nods and hands off the two radios she took before she quickens her pace, quietly stalking ahead.

>Dahlia giggles as Johnny describes the facility as a 'zombie daycare.'
>"You wouldn't walk us into a trap would you Mr?" Dahlia asks at that. "They'd shoot you too, you know."
>"You guys ain't even spose'd to fuckin' be here." He's thoroughly done. "Told me this place was clean. There's a truck in the motor pool with dudes, but they're here to move stuff, like I said. I'm just hoping to ditch into a corner before you start shooting at each other."
>"How many guys? How are they equipped?" Violet presses.
>"The halftrack's got room for six in the cabin and however many they fit in the bed. Sixteen total maybe? Not all of 'em got long guns."
>As Aster moves ahead of the group she stumbles into a sandbag embankment.
>She gropes to right herself and her hands find... a body?
>A dusty vest with a weight in it. The wireframe over her vision springs to life. It rapidly constructs a skull over the head of the corpse she's found, and then fills in a face. A girl? A doll.
>A circle appears on the girl's shoulder, the text 'Unit 114d-121A, Guns n' Daisies: Sgt. Daisy.'
>...You knew Daisy. Didn't you?
>You smell iron.
>You used to be hungry. All the time. It never went away.
>Daisy was there. You'd met her in sick bay. She looked into your eyes one day and knew.
>She was one of the organ dolls who looked after all the others. Everyone looked up to her.
>She always had food for you. It was the only food that helped. No matter what, there was food at Daisy's table.
>You weren't supposed to eat that. But it was all that helped.
>The two of you met in secret; there was a place in the motor pool where the cameras couldn't see.
>Aqen almost caught you one day. His feet were less than a yard from you.
>But he didn't look at you.
>Daisy's skull lolls loosely in her grip.
[Aster gains the Starvation memory fragment]
>Aster stares at the corpse and after a long moment she pulls it off the defensive position where it lay. She lays it down in a restful position before continuing. "Friendly KIAs." Aster says evenly back towards the group.

>"...Say Johnny," Dahlia asks, voice restraining a hard edge, as they passed the corpse, "Is it still illegal to break into people's houses and steal their things? Or rob graves?"
>Johnny sucks in a sharp hiss through his teeth. "Man, I knew you guys was opfor." He tenses visibly. "I'm not going into the philosophical implications of looting, but I'll tell ya I didn't do none. They called me in to button up doors. It's all they're payin' me to do and I'm not the scav type."
>"D what's the status of Juliet?" Violet asks to divert the conversation.
Juliet is Dahlia's rocket launcher.
>"Should be functional." Dahlia replied. "Do you want me to test it?"
>"Check. I would like you to check it." Violet specifies as she moves close. "I'll take the prisoner for a bit."
>"Setting off high explosives in enclosed spaces is not advised." Aster quips from ahead.
>"It's pitch black in here, and we're on the move." Dahlia answers, "Even if I hadn't already checked it..."
>"Fair enough." Violet goes quiet, possibly trying to focus on her non visual senses.

>As Aster approaches the final bend, a soft, bluish light overlays the amber wireframe outlining the tunnel. She blinks once. The wireframe is gone; soft daylight is seeping in around the corner ahead of her. She can hear indistinct shouting of men from the area beyond.
>The clock next to the map is still ticking.
>... 1:01:34

>Hugging the wall, Aster creeps ahead, watching carefully.
>Aster rounds the corner, keeping flush with the wall. Beyond the tunnel opening, she can see the facility's motor pool. Vehicles lay about like scattered toys, some having been abandoned while in the midst of repair while others show signs of battle damage. She can see more than one with the frozen corpses of the crew hanging halfway out, riddled with bullets. A cargo elevator lays smack in the middle of the floorplan, though it appears to have been knocked askew some time ago. Snow drifts in from the mouth of the motor pool.
[Aster passes a perception check]
>There's a quartet of scorched skeletons slumped over a sandbag wall nearby the mouth of the tunnel. A fifth skeleton lays beyond the position, scorch marks streaking the floor beneath it as if it had been dragged some ways while alight.
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>The halftrack is right where Johnny said it was; the mouth of the motorpool. Men in winter uniform mill about, mostly moving boxes and loading the bed of the truck. Two men, the farthest ones into the motorpool, are handling a package similar to the stasis pods the group woke up in, though Aster cannot see inside it.
>Johnny's estimate appears to be correct; there are a few more than half a dozen men milling about. Though Aster can't see inside the truck itself.

>Abruptly, the girls' vision is alive with static.

>Aster signs the enemy numbers and general positions back around the corner along with the sign for friendly prisoner.
>Violet quietly mutters to herself "Are their any other functional transports besides the half track?" meanwhile she signs for Dahlia to join Aster.
>Dahlia crouches down and joins Aster, moving as low and quiet as she can get away with.
>Violet jams a rag in Johnny mouth and whispers in his ear. "Stay here. Don't move." She squats and ties his ankles together, then guides him to the ground so he doesn't fall and break something, then she moves to join the others.
>[Nice work.] Violet signs to Aster
>Aster passes a captured assault rifle to Dahlia and readies her Wire Wheel, eyeing her target as she sets her feet
>Dahlia eyes the rifle dubiously and swallows, bracing to fire
>Violet signs out a plan. [We supress, Aster Lasso friendly. neutralize hostiles, take half track. On 3.]

>Dahlia leans out and lets rip with the rifle, hosing the men down. She pays special attention to anyone actually looking in the squad's direction
>Aster flings her arm forward, the wire spooling out to wrap around the captured stasis pod, and yanks backward.

Has anyone actually played a PC with that class yet?
Digging it so far

What a suspenseful note to leave it on.
Glad you guys are enjoying it. Sorry for dipping out on a cliffhangar, but my bed was calling my name.

>Violet rolls out past her sister and stands up hosing bullets just overtop of the sandbags, avoiding the truck and stasus pod.

>The two soldiers hauling the coffin pause for a hearbeat as the wire wraps around their cargo. "Huh?"
>Violet's fire lights up the man holding the rear of the coffin, putting him down immediately. The other has the presence of mind to duck immediately, reflexively unholstering his pistol. Either through determination or panic, he maintains his grip on the coffin. Aster's hauling is only enough to drag him half a foot over the concrete before his own furious scrambling halts the advance.
>The other men are already moving into action even as two of the loaders slump over, riddled from Dahlia's barrage. Three riflemen open up on the tunnel while the man with the coffin fires his sidearm wildly. A round penetrates Violet's shoulder, but ricochets off of her alloy-coated clavicle. Another round pings off of Dahlia's ammo case.
>Someone shouts from the truck. "Don't let them hit the case! If she wakes up we'll lose her!"

>Violet grunts as the round travels through her shoulder, then signs to Violet to fire a rocket.
>Aster keeps hauling on the line, pulling hand over hand on the wire.
>Dahlia stops firing the rifle and sets it aside, holstering her rocket, "Backblast clear!" firing it at the rifle man furthest from the truck.
>Violet shoulders her autocannon to add to the show of force. "STAND DOWN! SURRENDER OUR COMRADE OR FACE DEATH!" she bellows after the shot with all the authority she can muster.
I made a number of them to form a group that deals parts thinking the dolls would kill then and loot their supplies.

Instead the dolls spent the night gambling with parts with one of them. They didn't to do well but they didn't do terrible either. The players basically fell in love with Giorgio and the dolls have been doing work for "the family".
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>The man by the elevator is vaporized by the impact of the rocket launcher. The explosion from the warhead rocks the entire structure. Violet's cannon sprays down two more men off to the right side of the car. The man holding the coffin wrenches on his handle and dislodges the wire as he drags desperately back toward the truck.
>A round from his handgun bounces off of the scales on Aster's cheek. A rifle round pierces the torn up sandbag wall and hits Violet in the guts.
>The truck's engine roars to life. The men are beginning to beat a fighting retreat back toward the vehicle as they fire wildly. The man with the coffin is almost at the bed of the vehicle.
>Violet shouts. "Aster! Secure the Truck! Dahlia advancing barrage!"
>Violet steps over her guts and scales the sandbags, firing at the coffin hauler as she goes.
>"Let her go!" Dahlia shouts, firing a rocket at a soldier.
>Aster sprints across the garage with her inhuman legs, swinging at anyone she nears but missing them in favor of running as fast as possible.
>Violet sprays wildly with her submachine gun in a firing advance, but the recoil sends the rounds over the head of her intended target - the main hauling the coffin - and into the truckbed. Cracks spiderweb over the rear cabin window, but no one is hit. Meanwhile, Aster's advance is befuddled by a swarm of lead, though none of the impacts are angled properly to pierce her scales.
>Dahlia's rocket vaporizes two more men at the side of the truck.

>"Bail! Bail!"
>"But the package-!"
>"Drop it! We're out!"
>The man hauling the coffin dumps his cargo and leaps onto the truck bed. As soon as his feet are off the ground the engine roars; the tracks squeal, tossing ice and pebbles into the air as the truck peels out of the mouth of the motorpool and into the snow.
>"...That's right, go back to hell!" Dahlia shouts, firing a rocket at the halftrack.
>It hits something critical as the truck starts down the slope and then explodes, detonating just under the bed of the track and the cab. The resulting fireball is larger than expected, and the bed flips up and forward, severed from the cab as both tumble down and out of view.
>Violet skids to a stop as the fireball rises into the sky Then beats a trail of bloody boot prints to the coffin. She crouches by it and checks it's status.
>Aster huffs in frustration as the truck gets away but smirks as it explodes. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, Aster runs back over to look over Violet's shoulder. "Who is it?" she asks excitedly.
>Dahlia reflexively depresses the trigger of the [currently empty] launcher a few more times, her twitchy nerves overstimulated from the battle. It takes her some time to realize her sisters are about to open the pod.

>The displays on the coffin are quite simplified, and the controls appear to be a skeletonized version of the proper stasis pods the dolls' woke up in.
>The readouts list a small amount of data. The only text reads:
>Quality: Compatible.
>Brain: Intact
>Status: Inert
>A small line that resembles a heart monitor readout fluctuates on the lower end of the screen.

>Violet starts talking. "Aqen, we've secured the pod. Are you able to interface with the pod's systems? Enemy chatter suggests unit inside may be in need of emergency care if removed from pod. Requesting additional information on unit's condition."
>Amber text scrolls her your vision.
>There's a pause. The sky outside lights up in a blinding white, throwing the entire motor pool into a stark white for a full second before subsiding back to daylight. The mountain rumbles and a wave of heat washes over the girls before the cold of the snow returns.
>The text resumes.
>... 00:55:12

>Aster looks out into the snow. "Are they throwing nukes around?"
>Violet waves the concern off. "Dahlia, Aster, get in position to aid, restrain, or comfort her as the situation may require."
>Aster nods with a big smile on her face.
>Dahlia hurries over to help, slinging her rocket back into its storage position.
>Violet pulls the lever once her two comades are in place.

>The coffin hisses as the interior pressure equalizes with the outside atmosphere. The door raises an inch and then slides upward and off the coffin to clang against the concrete floor.
>There's a girl at rest inside; she's in a uniform like the dolls', though there's a long, blue skirt over her legs instead of the proper fatigues. She herself has pale skin mottled with dark red stains. Her dark hair is cropped short. She has four eyes spaced evenly along the front of her face. A marksman's rifle is laid next to her, and there's a large revolver tucked into a holster on her belt. She's apparently uninjured. On her sleeve is a badge covered in daisies. The word 'Gardener' appears in the dolls' augmented vision, hovering over her unit badge.
>Text begins scrolling over their vision.
>Her eyes open slowly. She blinks once, clearing the haze from her eyes.

>"HI! Good Morning!" Aster says exuberantly.
>"Hi!" Dahlia says, waving, "I blew up your kidnappers. The explosion was amazing."
>Gardener looks back and forth between the dolls, confused for a moment. A gust of cold wind appears to bring her back to the present, and she raises herself out of the coffin. She looks back towards the tunnel, sullen. "It's just me, isn't it?"
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>"...We're here!" Dahlia tries. "By the way somebody's dropping REALLY big bombs out there. It's kind of cool but I really hope they don't drop one on us when we leave because Aqen wants us outta here sometime in the next... 50 minutes!"
>"Well there's us!" Aster says at the same time. "Us and a whole bunch of dead guys... and Johnny..."
>Gardener smiles weakly. "Well, I'm glad someone's made it out of the Habor facility. They'd made it quite deep when they caught me." Her expression falls a hair. She picks up her rifle and uses it as a support to lift herself out of the coffin. "The fighting was very tense when Oculus' advance moved into Habor. Aqen was already making liberal use of the Horus system before today. I assume he still is."

>"Why are you out of uniform?" Violet finally breaks her silence.
>She blushes at Violet's question. "It... reminds me of school. Before I died. Aqen said I could keep it..."
>Violet nods. "Very well. We've been in storage for a rather extended period. Please fill us on current events. Who are Oculus?"

>"I can. But let's walk and talk. There isn't much time left." Gardener steps out of the Coffin and beckons the rest of the dolls towards the door. The entire world goes white for a second. A peel of thunder rolls over you, followed by a wave of heat much stronger than the last. Gardener looks almost flush from the sudden warmth. "That one was close."
>Violet nods. "Collect parts from the fallen, I will go retrieve and insulate our prisoner, and we'll head out."
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>You can actually go into parts debt to the mafia
Sounds like some Corpus-tier shenanigans. Did you go full-Italian with it or keep things more towards the thematic side?
>Repaired and rearmed, the group exits the motor pool's cavernous opening onto a manufactured outcrop. The mountain's face is near vertical here, leaving a winding concrete ramp as their only path down the mountain, though falling snow obscures their view enough that they can only see the faint outline of the ramp by the time it reaches the mountain's foot. The distant din of combat rumbles through the snow. Gunfire, the growl of mortar shells, explosions. A narrow white line splits the horizon far to the west, punctuating in a thunder crack

>A valley stretches out before them, with black mountains on the opposite side reaching upward against the white sky like yawning teeth. Gardener doesn't so much as pause before setting down the ramp, kicking up white powder as she walks. From her back, the group can see a receiver array similar to the Violet's along her upper back and lower neck, though notably more compact. She begins speaking as she walks, her voice carrying clearly over the wind
"You three are from Flowers o' Bermuda, right? That makes you... second gen? First maybe? The stasis sickness is supposed to be especially hard on you, which is probably why you can't remember the assault. I'm fourth, so it's not as bad for me but I'm... still foggy. I'll tell you what I can."

>"As for who Oculus is... No one is completely sure, though I'm sure Aqen has his suspicions. Daisy thought they might have been an international conglomerate, a bunch of paramilitary contractors or something. Whoever they are, their equipment, training, and funding is exceptional; they'd been grinding through the valley for a full week before hitting Habor installation and by now it looks like they've almost made it all the way to Golan. If they pierce the defenses there..." Her expression hardens. "Well, it's just Aqen there now. I'd hate to be on Oculus' insertion teams in that event, but the truth is that the Lazarus project lives and dies with him, and I think they know that."
>"It would explain why they keep trying to take undead personnel alive. Aqen wouldn't give them what they want so now they're trying to take it. What I don't know is why that scares Aqen so much. I know he's said but... I can't remember." She huffs. "All I can remember about that is... well, it's good Daisy wasn't taken. Or anyone else." She turns back to look at the trio. "For that matter, thank you. For saving me." She smiles weakly. "I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I chickened out. I thought I could still get away if I hid away in a dark corner and avoided detection, but they found me and disabled me before I could hit the button."
>She kicks up a puff of snow at the foot of the ramp; the girls are at ground level now now, the valley before them.

>The map of Habor facility disappears from their HUD, replaced with a ghostly outline of the valley. Sections are marked in overlapping, crosshatched circles with 'DANGER' projected in the center of each in bold block letters. Four pips appear at the southern end of the map. Text begins to scroll over their vision.

>A laser falls from the sky, blinding the group. This one is just about close enough to bake them.

>The circle directly north of the group's position fizzles, only to be quickly replaced by another farther to the west. Still, there's a path through the net now.
>... 00:48:12
>"You are welcome." Violet says in a somewhat neutral tone, her focus learly on the path ahead and scrutinizing the valley and mountains for something. "How long were you in Habor? Do you remember what it was for?"
>Gardener quirks an eyebrow. "I guess they weren't joking about the stasis sickness. Habor Installation was a power plant, it provided the majority of power to Golan and Gittite Installations. An underground river runs under the mountain range here. There are a few more along this side of the valley, Bela and Dibon east of here, though they're both defunct. Heleph was behind the front line before they took me, but there's no telling if it's still producing power."
>"Oh that doesn't sound good." Aster whines. "Do the defenses have enough power?"
>"Aqen's still blasting them with angry sunbeams, so..." Dahlia shrugs.
>"Oh good, friendly lasers of doom are always nice to have on your side."
>Violet nods. "Yes. Orbital support is always welcome."

>The snow deepens as the dolls's winding path takes them deeper into the valley. Pines pop up here and there, branches heavy with snow and ice. Far in the distance, they can trace dark shapes moving parallel to them through the snow. West of the group, a pair of shapes visibly ducks down just as a smaller discharge of the Horus' laser strike glasses a cliff face ahead of them. Far off to the East a snowmobile engine rises and falls, far out of their view.
>"There's a lot of activity around." Aster says quietly. "I think they are too busy to worry about us though."
>A shape looms ahead of them, though it's difficult to make out its shape through the snow.
>Dahlia's eyes widen. "It's a yeti!" She raises her launcher to fire.
>"Check your fire Dahlia." Violet hisses as she waves everyone to duck down and either merge with the snow or seek concealment.
>Aster casually reaches over and pushes Dahlia's muzzle down toward the ground. "Please don't, we're trying to be sneaky."
[Violet passes a perception check]
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>Violet blinks a snowflake from her eye. The shape ahead. You know it. You blink again.
>It is Aqen.
>Confetti and streamers have replaced the snow. Music blares from all corners of the great auditorium.
>Aqen is at the head, standing, hands held up triumphant. You can still hear the words.
>"Hear me! All of Lazarus! Today begins the first day of our second lives! Free of hunger, free of slavery, free of war!"
>Undead of all sorts are around you. They cheer at the words. Your sisters are besides you, all of them. Their uniforms are crisp, clean, and unweathered.
>"Here we have secured ourselves a bastion against the petty squabbles of the Necromancers who would drag us into ruin. Here we are unassailable!"
>He makes a sweeping gesture over the crowd. "Here, all of us, we are safe!"
>He throws his hands high up into the air to punctuate his words.
>And then you are back in the snow.
>The bronze statue of Aqen, hands high, stands before you, black against the gray. All you can hear is the lonely wind and the footsteps of your sisters.
[Violet gains the memory fragment: God]

>Violet freezes staring into the past while Aster handle's Dahlia's near Negligent Discharge.
>"Aqen..." the precious word leaves her mouth quietly. "What happened to us?" It's the first time Violet has used that word to refer to something besides the people immediately around her since she got out of stasis.
>Aster raises an eyebrow at Violet's outburst... "You ok Violet?" Aster asks, while holding Dahlia's rocket Launcher over her head, the smaller doll trying to get it back.
>Dahlia quickly loses patience with the struggle and gets ready to strike Aster with the butt of her shovel.
>"I... umm. Yes, I'll be fine. Just pre-stasis memories coming unstuck." She looks aside and sees Aster and Dahlia about to turn keepaway into a fight.
>"What are you two doing?" She blinks at them, not mad, or frustrated, just maybe a little confused.
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>Aster shrugs, "Just messing with the short stack." She says, tossing the Rocket Launcher back to Dahlia.
>Dahlia thwacks her with the shovel butt anyway. "When we're wasted by hostile armor, you will remember this." Then she turns her nose up and steps pointedly to the other side of the squad formation.
>"Oof" Aster clutches her chest. "Ok I deserved that."
>Violet covers her mouth as a giggle tries to escape at her squadmates antics. "Alright you two, straighten up. Aqen is waiting for us." She stalks forward through the snow once more.

>Gardener blinks. "Aqen is back in Golan Installation." She raises a hand to point West, down the valley. "It's where he controls the Horus system from. We're exfiltrating that way." She points north, towards the approaching mountain range ahead of them. "It's possible he'll link up later, but..." She shrugs.

>Dahlia blinks. "Why... why are we leaving him behind?"
>"He has a plan. I'm sure we'll find out in time what it is." Violet assures.
>Orange text scrolls across their vision.
>A gray speck, far off to the East, is highlighted in orange for a brief moment. Two others on the face of a far mountain are highlighted just after.
>The text pauses as three beams of light crack the sky in the west. The heat is enough to flash melt the snow around them for an instant.
>... 00:39:56

>Aster holds her arm up to shield her eyes, "Geeze, it must be bad over there to justify that lightshow."
>"It is." Gardener states plainly. "And if he's taxing the system this much then he's probably right. Any one of those beams could level a city block."
I am seriously enjoying the tactical approach the dolls take, how is it in action?
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>Violet shifts the conversation. "Do any of you remember what it was like here?" She takes a moment to shuffle herself out of a particularly deep snow pile she's blundered into. "Before it was like this, I mean?"
>"Not a thing!" Aster answers in a sing-song voice. "I just remember you guys... and a whole bunch of stuff I would rather forget..."
>Dahlia's voice is far away. "I remember I loved it."
>Violet thinks back to the memory. "I saw our squad, and a whole bunch of other undead. We were at a rally. Aqen was telling us we were going to build a home for ourselves. We were going to escape the hunger, war, and slavery that came from serving squabbling necromancers."
>"Well it looks like the squabbling necromancers had other ideas..." Aster says with a huff.
>Violet seems to think of something. "Was that before your time Gardener? You mentioned being a newer model than us." Another pause. "Is Oculus run by a Necromancer?"

>Gardener tilts her head as she walks, thinking. "I think so. I never went to a rally. One of Lazarus' resource scouts found me in a burned out city and offered me shelter. I agreed, and then he took me to Aqen. Aqen spoke to me, asked me what I'd gone through, and asked if I would like to join. When I said yes he put me under and implanted the receiver, and... did something else. I'm not sure, but I wasn't... when I woke up in the city I was numb and - I guess I'd call it 'flat.' I couldn't feel things. When I woke up with Aqen... I could feel again. And then he assigned me to Daisy's squad as a communications operator."
>She turns to Dahlia. "As far as we've been able to tell, they're all human. Though some necromantic technology has been recovered from their more advanced vehicles, I hear. The brass were tight-lipped about it."

>Violet turns to Johnny, who's been trudging along miserably in a coat looted from a fallen soldier. "Johnny, are their necromancers stomping around where you lived before they shipped you out here?"
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Slightly less tactical in actual combat, though they did a good job of keeping their heads on straight and analyzing things OOC. I figure it's hard to be all that tactical in Nechronica's combat system since things get so abstracted.
I was really glad that Violet's player kind of fell into the tactical mindset though. And Dahlia's played up her sapper training when it was relevant, too. I'm not sure I could have asked for much better considering they'd only got the characters an hour prior to starting the first game.

>Johnny looks absolutely miserable, huddled into his pilfered coat and helmet. His hands are still bound, so he's been struggling to keep his balance and keep pace with the dolls through the snow. "Kherty's fuckin' dead." He almost spits the name. "Or dead as necros get, y'know."
>"One of the big breathers Oculus got, suppos'dly. He'd almost got the whole eastern seaboard under his thumb before he up and croaked one day. Then Oculus started consolidating all the tech and weapons."
>The name tickles at the back of Dahlia's mind.

>"...So that's where they're getting their guns." Dahlia says, doing her best not to think about her familiarity with the name.
>Her past made her uncomfortable, therefore she didn't want to risk thinking about it.
>"I see." Violet nods. "So, did we attack humans? Or did Oculus decide to come after us first?"

>Johnny shrugs. "Yes? Far as I know, Oculus doesn't discriminate. But they're also getting pushed out of the south by a new guy; Ball or sumthin'. He just rolled over Memphis a month ago." He makes a motion like he'd throw his hands out in defeat if he weren't tied up. "I guess they're up here looking for resources. But they don't tell me that sort of thing, I just read the paper."

>Dahlia harrumphs, "If you weren't even going to ask what you were risking your life for, you should've just stayed at home."
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>Johnny rolls his eyes. "They said it'd be safe with the armed guards and that I'd be getting paid the good money, so I hopped on it. More trouble in the world than what's going on here, y'know?"
>Gardner gives Johnny a deadpan sort of look. "I was going to ask, why do you three even have him tailing along, anyway?"

>"Dunno," Dahlia says, side-eyeing him, "He seems kind of dim. And useless."
>Violet breaks in. "We wanted information and he was a noncombatant. Slaughtering him would've been wrong."
>"There was a sign warning trespassers they'd be shot, wasn't there?" Snarks acidly.
>Gardener mulls that over for a bit. "That makes sense. I guess he is just a toolguy, right?" She smirks. "Hard to believe you two are in the same squad though, with how you're both looking at this. Daisy would've knocked-" She cuts off as something below the snow cracks.
[Dahlia succeeds an Action Check]
>The section of snow heaves as the ice below shifts. Johnny yelps and backpedals, but Dahlia's footing goes out right from under her. She manages to catch herself on the edge of the ice shelf but the cold pierces her lower body like an icepick.
>Suddenly she's... somewhere else.
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>It was cold. The water was seeping into your legs. What was left of them.
>Where was your Master? He always came back for you, even after his outbursts. He always came back.
>He always came to retrieve you. Even if you dropped the plates, or glasses, or the food. He always came back. He wouldn’t leave you out here. Surely.
>Even when you made him really mad. Even if he broke you. He didn’t mean it. He’d come back.
>But it had been so long. The cold was seeping into your chest now. Why hadn’t he come back yet?
>Then there was a man in the doorway. Tall, imposing, cloaked in black. Master?
>He set about the refuse like a man possessed; hurried, furious.
>You tried to speak, but your ribs had pierced your lungs. A rattle escapes your lips.
>He freezes, then moves to approach you. Heavy boots splash in the mud and water.
>Something warm swaddles you. A blanket?
>His cloak. You can’t see his face in the dark, but his strong hands are gentle as they cradle you against his chest.
>You’re able to whisper the word: “Master?”
>The lights illuminate his face as he crosses the threshold inside. He is pale, with eyes like obsidian marbles. He is not your Master.
>His hard features soften as he looks down to you; his face is splattered in red.
>“I'm afraid my brother Kherty has just passed. My name is Aqen. I will be looking after you, starting today.” He smiles softly at you as he continues to walk.
>The cloak is warm… The gentle swaying of his walk lulls you to sleep.
>Gardener is already kneeling to help Dahlia, hand outstretched as she inches towards the edge.
[Dahlia gains the memory fragment: Silhouette]

>Dahlia shivers for more reasons than one, reaching for the hand.
>Violet shoulders her weapon and wheels about looking for signs of approaching hostiles. "Aster help Gardener get her out."
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>Aster nods happily, unspooling a length of wire from her lower arm and tying it into a wide lasso. She tosses expertly, looping over both Gardener and Dahlia. "Grab on you two, and I'll pull you back."
>Dahlia follows the instruction, as does Gardener
>Aster fishes the two dolls back with ease.
>Johnny tiptoes his way around the hole in the ice.
>Gardener unhooks herself from the lasso and dusts the snow off of herself and Dahlia. "Well that was hair-raising. But we're almost there now. Once we're over the ridge it's all downhill."

>"...Y-you," Dahlia starts as she's hauled, looking at Johnny. "...s-selfish. P-parasite." She's cold. She's mournful.
>She's so very, very angry.
>"Why are y-ou here? W-hat's worth it? Huh? What's worth ruining the only good place left on this Earth?"

>Johnny's face is caught between flabbergasted and... defeated? It's hard to tell through the snow. "All right, all right, it's winter in New York state, awright? It's fuckin' cold. Kills-the-humans kind of cold. And Kherty went and fucked everything. The grid is spaghetti, the forests are gone, the coal all got dug up before this shit all happened. I got two parents, a girl, and three kids who need to make it through winter when firewood for a night goes for a week's wages working in the mill.
>"So Oculus comes up, they need a welder guy. I got referred. They're quadruplin' my pay. All I need to do is not ask any questions and not touch anything. I figure I can do that; It's shady shit, yeah, whatever. That money will keep all five of them fed for a year once I get out of here. I figure I get a little traumatized, keep my mouth shut, it'll be worth it. Fuckin' whatever. I didn't know they were doing all this shit, but I'm not the one who pulled the trigger on any of this either."
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>Dahlia trembles. More from anger than the cold. "No. That was your bosses. Aqen... Aqen killed M-Kherty. Then your bosses walk in and take all his stuff and use it to keep doing what he was doing to everyone else." Dahlia is growing progressively more upset. "Fuck you!"
>She's about a hair's breadth from throwing him into the ice. Whether or not he hit the hole didn't matter to her.

>Violet runs between the two of them, shoving Johnny away from both Dahlia and the hole.
>"Dahlia! Killing Johnny won't fix anything. He's just trying to keep his family alive, just like we are. He didn't even have a gun. The sooner we get Gardener and Johnny to the extraction site, the sooner we can work out how to save Aqen. Are you with me on this?"

>"Fuck his family!" Dahlia counters eloquently, "If he cared about them he wouldn't leave them alone in the cold! Nobody'll keep them warm if he dies here - and he thought he could just walk in and sweep all our family's bones under the rug without a scratch?! Like it should be safe!?"
>Johnny moves to say something, but thinks better of it. Instead he settles for edging away from Dahlia to stand behind Gardener and Violet.

>"He didn't know what they were going to have him doing. He may have been building a geothermal plant in Yellowstone for all he knew." Violet returns, a forced calm in her voice as her brow furrows and her shoulders tense.
>"Or he could have been setting bonfires so Occulus could charge more for the wood they have left. Wouldn't that be funny?" Dahlia counters halfheartedly. "Luckily, he just has to help them hide from their mistakes and blame it all on the man who saved them from their M--Necromancer!"

>Text rolls over their vision.
Thematic. I don't know enough to go full Italian.
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>Violet raises a finger. "Hold that thought. Johnny, does anyone know Aqen killed Kherty?"
>Johnny shrugs again. "I don't have a fucking clue who 'Akken' is."
>Violet nods. "Remind me to tell you all about him once we make it across the this field of death Now come on everyone. We're going. NOW. ALL. Of. Us. Dhalia."

>Dahlia nearly draws her stolen rifle, but Aquen's reprimand has her bite her jaw shut.
>It wasn't fair.
>His family were irrelevant.
>Why should they get to survive?
>Why should he just get to walk away?
>Why should they help him survive?
>If he didn't survive, why were they wasting time on him at all?
>Dahlia was cold, and so were her tears.

>Aster shuffles uncomfortably.

>The group falls quiet and begins shuffling unceremoniously up the slope and through the snow, away from the frozen river. The distant sounds of battle are softened even further by the endless snowbanks on either side of them, sometimes fading away almost completely as they pass behind rock outcrops or clusters of the slowly thickening vegetation.
>... 00:13:20
>The open snow gives way to a thick pine forest. It's... quiet here. If it weren't for the intermittent flashes of the Horus system, it would be peaceful. But Aqen's map urges them forward.
>... 00:09:56
>Forest gives way again to blank snow and black rock. A ravine leads the way out into a flat, white plane that fades into gray as it meets the horizon.
>... 00:08:4-
>An mind-splitting burst of static feeds in through the link. The map in the lower corner of their eyes scatters in a swarm of angry orange pixels before reorganizing itself. The map returns. There is a bright orange 'DANGER' circle directly over their position.
>Text scrolls across their vision.
>The feed cuts.
>Evade capture at all costs
>That deny capture skill
Oh yeah, it's all coming together.
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>A metal screech splits the calm. The snow in the ravine bursts into the air as shapes rise out of the powder. Armored silhouettes with rifles, armored silhouettes brandishing man-catchers, two larger forms toting machine guns stomp forward behind them. At the center of the formation is a white hulk; a elongated metal box with a flat, cylindrical 'head' bespoked with camera lenses. Hooks and chains and things whirr with anger along its sides. It scuttles over the snow on spider-like legs.
>Gunfire erupts.
[Aster passes a perception check]
>Aster starts as the similarities click in her mind, "It's like the thing we found Gardener in!" She shouts as her fingers curl into claws and her face twists into an ugly snarl. "They're gonna try to cage us."
>Aster powers forward
>The Abductor shuffles forward from the backline
>Dahlia nails one of the larger armored goons with a rocket.
>Violet lays into one of the backline with her cannon, spraying the drones and armored men with fragmentation shells.
>The armored man nearest Aster, still smoking from Dahlia's rocket, whips a cord around her heel and attempts to fling her back and into Violet's field of fire.
>It almost works, but Aster's blood crystallizes under the cord, shearing it away before she can be pulled into danger.
>Gardener holds back, punching holes in the Abductor with her rifle.
>The valley devolves quickly into chaos. Aster forms the frontline, with Violet and Dahlia behind her. The armed drones at the back rake her with rifle fire while the hook-toting drones mill around the Abductor in the secondline.
>A well-placed shot from Gardener slams into the hub of the Abductor's head. The housing falls away to reveal-
>A head.
>A Doll's head rests in the back of the housing, where the neck connects to the rest of the machine. Her eyes have been replaced with a pair of metal plates, from which wires feed upward into the housing. Her expression is completely blank and vacant. There's a bare suggestion of life as her mouth mimics the motions of breathing.
>Violet recognizes the face. Her name was Morgana.


>Text scrolls over their vision.

>Morgana fires a hook forward, latching onto Violet's plate carrier and yanking her forward.
>Aster is quick on the reaction, using her own wire reel to keep Violet out of Morgana's reach, but trapping Violet in the center of a lethal tug-of-war.
>"Morgana-MORGANA! It's Violet! Put Me Down!" Violet yells in a fear-edged attempt to mimic the authority of Diana as the Abductor picks Violet up and manhandles her.
>A motor revs. There's a grinding sound as one of the Abductor's metal cord whips through the air, shattering Violet's hips and amputating her legs in one fell swoop.
>Too close to risk her cannon, Violet sprays Morgana's armatures down with her submachine gun as Dahlia's rocketry skills make short work of the two power-armor units.
>Aster dives into the backline, tearing into the gun-toting infantry in the back.
>As Morgana is disarmed, another rocket from Dahlia slams into the Abductor chassis, tearing away most of what was left.
>The Abductor tries to beat a desperate retreat, inching away from the fray on its remaining legs only for Aster to loop a wire lasso around the coffin and haul it back through the snow, where she holds it as the other three dolls mop up the remaining infantry.
>Or 'Infantry.' Closer inspection reveals them to be... some sort of drone. Or something like a drone. There's necromantic flesh on their interior, but nothing resembling actual organs. The only actual humans were the two Hookmen, encased in heavy suits of powered armor.
>The trauma enacted on them has left little recognizable tissue inside the shells.
>Aster rends the last of the legs off of the Abductor Unit, leaving only the central coffin, battered and bruised, resting in the snow. Over the sound of the wind and the ringing in her ears, she can hear something shift inside.

>... 00:04:43

>Violet drags herself through the snow, toward Aster, Morgana, and the objective. Mouth destroyed during the fray, she turns to hand sign, asking for a status report from Dahlia and Aster, and hand signs to Gardener to tell Johnny to Come out of cover and move his ass.
>"Minimal damage." Dahlia reports, looking around for other hostiles. "I stubbed my toe and broke the gun we took from the troopers."
>Aster shrugs, a hole in her abdomen reveals some damaged entrails and an obvious limp tells of her broken leg. "I'll make it."
>Johnny comes out from behind the boulder he's been hiding behind and hoofs it through the snow as quickly as his compromised balance and adrenaline will carry him.
>Gardener is just ahead of him.

>Aster reaches down and tears the door off of the coffin revealing a torso. All extremities are gone but the Doll, Morgana, is aware. Gaunt and putrid. Poorly maintained. She writhes against her containment impotently.
>Gardener blanches at the sight of Morgana, managing to look pale in spite of her winestain markings. "O-oh. Poor girl."
>Johnny looks like he's about to puke, but stays silent.
>Violet hauls herself up alongside the coffin to inspect the mechanisms Morgana is intermingled with and see if she'll survive extraction
>"No time for staring." Aster says, reaching down and pulling the rotting girl free of her prison, "We should hurry."
>Violet claps three times too refocus everyone and points ahead.
>Johnny scoops her up, placing his bound arms underneath her shoulder. He begins halfheartedly moving north, waiting for someone else to take the lead.
>Dahlia tsks, but otherwise doesn't respond as she begins running.
>Aster limps along, slower than the others, but takes to pulling herself ahead with her wire wheel.
>The Dolls make a break for the rendezvous. As they run, the world darkens abruptly, descending into a gray twilight.
>Another Lazarus soldier skids down the black cliff on their right and falls in beside them; she's missing both of her arms. A man in Lazarus uniform appears from behind a boulder to their left, hopping along on his one, heavily mutated leg. He is missing an arm and the left half of his head.
>They are coming up on the point now. The ravine and mountains gives way to an endless, flat, white. It's so dark it could almost be night.
>... 00:00:08
>There are others already here. Of all shapes and sizes and ages. All of them are wearing battle damage of some sort. Many are being carried by their fellows for lack of locomotion.
>Possibly a hundred, all told. A bare fraction of what it should be.
>... 00:00:07
>... 00:00:06
>... 00:00:05
>... 00:00:04
>... 00:00:03
>... 00:00:02
>... 00:00:01
>... 00:00:00
>... 00:00:00
>... 00:00:00
>Violet's managed to stitch her jaw together well enough it'll hold its shape, in spite of Johnny's bumping. She whispers into the wind. "Aqen. Thank you. Thank you for everything."
>Warm amber text scrolls across Violet's vision.
>Live well, Violet.

To be concluded...
>A baritone voice booms over the wastes. It shakes the very earth to the bones.
>"This is command unit Aqen, transmitting on all audible and relevant electromagnetic frequencies. To all surviving Lazarus personnel, may the war forget you. Godspeed on your second lives."
>A star lights up in the center of the sky.
>The voice darkens.
>"To all invaders, jailors, leeches, and sons of bitches: my patience has expired. Welcome unto death."
>A column of light descends from the star. The entire world is thunder and blinding white.

>Violet abruptly wiggles her way out of Johnny's grip and grapples him down onto the ground. She shelters his head and upper body from the light with her own torso.
>Aster stands in the radiance of the end of the old days. She's dead, what's a little sunburn...
>"...I don't wanna say goodbye though!" Dahlia cries, cradling her patch.
>The light fades from their eyes.
>The mountains are gone. The place they used to be is flat, black glass.
>The only answer to Dahlia's cries is the rushing wind.
>As the echos of thunder and overpressure dissipate Violet's ragged sobs eventually begin to enter the range of audibility.
>The feed to Aqen has gone dead.
>They're all alone now.


Hope you lads enjoyed it.
I fucking loved it, thanks for the storytime anon.
Violet's player here. This was a lot of fun to play.

Currently reading.
It's neat to see someome tell the story of something you were a part of.


Re-reading this got me, especially the transition from Aster's memory to

>Daisy's skull lolls loosely in her grip.
How did you handle conversation checks?
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Glad you liked it, anon.

I was quite happy those memory fragment moments all landed. I was particularly worried about Dahlia's since it came last, but the reactions were pretty much what I was after.

Poorly, desu.
One of my big weaknesses during the adventure phase was kind of forgetting that they existed, though part of that was the adventure phase lasting three sessions before we actually got into combat. Doing it again, I'd try and pay better attention to character interactions and reward little moments like the one Aster and Dahlia had in >>72686009.

Other things I'd have done differently:
>have the encounter in the motorpool be an actual combat phase, even as an intentionally undertuned one
>beef up the two power armored Horrors in the actual combat phase, as well as give them something meaner than the MG
Though they also had Nailbat + Spikes. They just never managed to land a solid hit.
>Have Morgana charge towards and focus Gardener
Morgana's entire thing was locking down single targets so they couldn't go anywhere, and then eventually flaying them to pieces for capture. I thought it would be too mean to subjugate any of the party to custom parts like pic related, but I realized after the fact that Gardener, being an NPC, would have been a perfect demonstration dummy for something gruesome.

Live and learn, I guess. Things still went better than I dared to hope so I can't say I'm seriously torn up about it. Just something to keep in mind if I ever get back behind the DM screen.
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You meet an arctic witch.
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I wonder what else stalks the frozen wastes besides Oculus.
Could you share the statblock for the coffin things? Incapacitator seems neat.
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Most of the parts are standard enemy parts, but I'll post up the part names here real quick.

Trauma Switch [This is what Gardener broke when she revealed Morgana's head]
Command the Dead

Puppet Strings
Long Arms

Wires, Grappler, and Snare are all Rapid, 2cost, range 1-0, Move/Hinder 1 parts. Effectively identical, but RAW you can't have actual duplicate non-basic parts.

Carrion Shield
Armored Skin
Energy Tube

Despoiler of Eden

The armored humans also each had a Wire Reel part and the melee legion had an extra ability that was basically Wire Reel on an action timing but cost a bit more AP. Lots of forced movement this combat.
I've seen plenty of dry wasteland games, and space/mars games on nechroncia threads. but this is the first frozen/mountain/arctic game.
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Snow biomes are always my favorite. Possibly because I was a massive dwarf fag when Vanilla WoW was out and Dun Morogh was a fantastically done starting zone. Also I like mountains generally. They're aesthetic.

>plenty of space games

>Despite a strong desire for space games, the only space games you've been involved with are the ones you ran personally

This is bullshit.
That was wonderful, I enjoyed it a lot and hope your group gets to play again.
What ever happened to this group.
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I wasn't sure if I should put my name on for the storytime, but I guess since it's relevant here: It'sa me!
All the players were people I game with normally. If you've been around the last few threads then you've seen some of their antics already; Dahlia was piloted by Imp's/Protoca's player/the Port game DM while Violet was piloted by the DM for the Coleo campaign. Aster was piloted by Tachi.

This whole thing was actually prep/a trial run for content we wanted to have ready in case the DM for the Coleo campaign started facing burnout. Just something we could hop into to give them a short break. It also happened that Protoca wasn't quite done with setting up for the game they wanted to run that week so I took the chance to fill in and get some practice. All in all I'm pretty happy with how everything worked out. The fact that I actually got story kudos from both DMs is a nice ego boost.

We're keeping the Lazarus girls on retainer in case we ever want to return to them but my personal estimation is that it'll be some time before they make their next appearance. Should give me plenty of time to prep up some extra content and come up with a narrative, though. And maybe figure out what happens to Johnny, seeing as he's one human in a group of a hundred undead who don't like the organization he was talked into working for.
You ever seen sentient undead used as ammo?
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One of my characters was fired out of cannons twice.

The first time, she was fired from a necrocar, which was actually intended for doll use as a means of deploying anyone in it more expediently. However, since she was approximately 95% arm by volume (Pic related; the tumorous looking mass is basically just a portion of the shoulder.), she was more like a flesh shell. Her entry onto the battlefield pretty much wiped out an entire zone's worth of enemies, which made for an excellent means of announcing our arrival and intent to achieve murder and revenge.

Not long after - as a consequence of said murder and revenge - one of the higher ups in one of the mafia families in that city decided to start causing trouble, setting up shop in a building where she also had a rather dense sniper's nest. Here we just decided to embrace the flesh shell principle. Our recently created giant robot's arm cannon was loaded with my doll and fired; the resultant destruction was described as, quote, 'the fist of god' descending from on high, whereupon it obliterated the sniper's nest, the snipers in said nest, and every floor in the way of causing a giant, gore-filled crater at ground level.

Both times were pretty great. Sadly, we never got to continue our plans to escalate what we fired her out of, and the LOAC - Low Orbit Audrey Cannon - was neither produced nor needed.
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In case anyone was wondering. Aster brought Morgana with is.

I like to imagine her wire reeling herself across the snow with Morgan's torso cradled under her other arm like some sort of tundra Tarzan
That's insane.

Can you tell us more about your game?
How did it start?
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>In time you will learn the tragic extent of my failings.
>95% arm volume
How did you guys even cart her around? Did she walk around on her fingers or something instead of relying on her legs?
Escaping to space and continuing the game there is like, the second most common plot in this game. I've had 3 games with 3 different GMs like that.
wow that was great thanks anon
I could try doing up a proper storytime, but that'd take a long while because there's ~two years of game to cover, I'm overly verbose, and I'd hate to deliver it in pieces. The quick and dirty answer to your second question, at least, is: considerably more humbly. That was all part of the third or fourth big stretch of the game. We started it as basically pest control down in Africa, where there was a problem with mind-controlling swarms of bugs. It spiraled out of control from there due to a uh... questionable GM decision that radiated through the rest of the game. It produced something greatly fun, but also a tad tonally off, as far as Nechronica.

As to locomotion, yes but no. Audrey started out without SS, so while she could move the arm under its own power, her body couldn't move it. That did mean tip-toeing on her fingers was possible, but that wasn't exactly her preference. She actually preferred flinging herself through the air. She'd tense, punch off the ground, and then hurtle forward until smashing down again. For her, 'standing' tended to be more balancing on its palm/knuckles. If the party was going into a particularly small (Read: normal) building, she'd have to tumble down like a felled tree and then drag herself along. It was a fun state of affairs to describe. Eventually, she did get SS, so her body became strong enough that the arm didn't weigh her down - she kept at the flinging anyway, and now the arm was destructive enough that, if she didn't watch it, she could leave cracks in solid ground where she took off and landed.

Well fuck you for your experiences. Hand'em over.
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>- Long campaign
>- Storytimed over the course of multiple Nechronica threads
>- Interesting starting premise and location
>- questionable early installment woerdness as GM and players figure things out and grow into the game
>- plays with and leaves behind the usual tone of Nechronica while spiralling out into long successful, meaning fun, campaign
>- potentially detailed storytime

Everything you said makes me want this storytime more than I already did.
What if I also told you that, if the GM stopped being artismal, I'd have campaign art to post alongside the story when I get it rolling? Because the GM made custom tokens for everyone and everything, such as the picture of Audrey up there. He even made a few custom battlemaps. It was great, regardless of what he may try and say to the contrary.
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I would find that quite interesting.
nice skellybro, bro
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Any tips on single-player run? I want to play with a friend, he knows nothing about the game.
How to manage madness recovery and empty fetters? NPC-tulpa-companion? Talkative savants? Food crafting system based on 'bodyparts and maneuvers', where maneuvers are ingridients?

Best to just give them an NPC sister, though that last part sounds fun.

The problem is that working with just a single doll means a single madness point = game over without tossing out NPC sisters and combat becomes a lot more swingy (as they effectively lose if their attack part gets destroy). With a group the issue is mitigated, but with just one, it's a concern.
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The art in the core book and the storyline of one of the included modules both have a lot of "God dammit, WHY?" levels of creepieness to them.

I'd recommend not exposing your player to that unless you want to drive them off.
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Only if you're a coward.
I get what you mean.
I know people who probably wouldn't be all that put off by the concept of the game or that I play it, but if they looked up nechronica in google they'd probably start calling the local authorities.
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>I'd hate to deliver it in pieces

A lot of good storytimes come that way.
Aye, seconding this post. Most storytimes that aren't either heavily truncated or simply just short are going to outlive the thread they start in.

It's not that weird, and more content is always welcome.
I like tabletop simulator.

I don't have to type in dice bot commands when I want to roll, and manipulating token on the battle map is surprisingly easier than on Roll20.

Tell us more please.

Not him, but I put effort into censoring my printouts because I play in a public library.

Turns out it was wasted effort, though, 'cause one of my players looked it up online, printed the whole thing out, bound it in a folder and brought it with them.
It's not wasted effort. You've got it ready to go for future games.
In short: autism. However, considerations have been made and calculations performed that prove it's beyond unreasonable to wait until it's entirely complete. Most likely, there'll be bulk posts as I finish individual sessions. I'm very nearly done with the first, so when I rise from my grave it shouldn't be terribly long after that I can start things off. From there I'll figure things out.
Looking forward to it.
Did they remember to hotglue the book? Some of the images like Junk are too good to not fap to.
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Have bears.
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When is Energy Tube a good idea and when is it a bad idea?
Not him but in the same group.

One game ended with the party following the BBEG to the moon to protect the last bit of humanity. Another game is just straight up set in the space age with undead manning ships because space is dangerous and FTL kills people. The other one I belive was another space stuff but more in a dead space fashion.

Good Idea: When you are either not going to be in the line of fire much or when you have means to protect the location its in (like putting it in the arms when you have gauntlet and another defend).

Bad Idea: protect builds or builds otherwise built around getting the shit beat out of you or where you lack the means to prevent that hit location from being hit.
I've played in a frozen wasteland game before. Putting Dolls and the Undead in extreme environments is pretty interesting since they can survive these conditions. SpaceChronica seems quite a popular scenario. DeepSeaChronica could be a fun one to explore as well.
>I'm very nearly done with the first, so when I rise from my grave it shouldn't be terribly long after that I can start things off. From there I'll figure things out.

Excited for this.


Submarine Nechronica sounds like it could be very interesting. Thanks for suggesting it
I've already got ideas for a oneshot. I'd say what it was but some of my potential players browse 4chan and I'd want it to be a surprise.

>That image
Do you have more of these to share?
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Not that anon, but you can find a whole bunch by looking up the autopsies from Terror from the Deep. Such as this.
Correct me if I'm wrong but as long as Energy tube isn't broken you get +2 Max AP,
BUT any time the region of your body you put Energy Tube in takes damage, you pick a basic part, any non broken part from anywhere in your body, and break it.

So Assuming I have energy tube in my legs

1) If I take a hit in the legs, can I have Energy tube break my eyes or forearm, instead of a basic part in my legs?

2) If I take 2 damage to the legs but block it with scales which is Defend 2, I take 0 damage, but still have to pick a basic part and break it because I was HIT, it just didn't HURT.
(or is it like dismember checks? if I'm hit but negate the damage, then I'm NOT forced to make a dismemberment check?)

When it says any it means any, and if the attack is reduced to 0, then it doesn't trigger because you didn't actually take damage.
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Ladies and gentleman. Lolis of all ages. I've finally completed one (1) session and gotten all the ducks in a row, so hopefully someone enjoys what follows. As a note, the campaign art I was talking about was by and large done through image editing, so don't expect the world of it. It was a simple means of enhancing things that everyone quite enjoyed, not a body horror addition to someone's portfolio. Also, the PCs being converted to the style came later, so there may be discrepancies between what's described and their portraits; don't mind it overmuch. Without further ado, then.

Our story begins as four dolls awake, their ears greeted by a constant mechanical rumble, their noses assaulted by a foul, pungent odor. They feel, at least, that the spot at which they've come to is comfortable, squishy beneath their flesh. That would be owed to the fact that looking around shows them to be resting atop a mound of corpses, boxed in by metallic walls as an orange sky rolls past above. Some of our dolls don't take well to this realization.

Two of them, to be precise. The first is known as Adrian. The largest of our humble quartet, she is quite the antithesis of what one envisions in thinking of Nechronica. At six feet, tanned and well built, she's hardly a loli. She makes up for her errant stature with twin heads of brown hair, the extra jutting from a shoulder and both adorned with a bulldog's ears. With unnaturally thick arms and hands that have sharp sides to them, clad in a gi of emerald color, she looks quite ready for battle. Yet all this does nothing to keep her from being startled, crying out and slipping from the pile, beginning her new existence with the mercifully painless snapping of one leg's bone. As she expresses her displeasure with the violent exclamation of, “Shit!” she is joined by the other unfortunate soul soon to be down a fibula.
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Her name is Altina, and she's a much more dainty affair compared to our bruiser. With unhealthily pale skin, bright red eyes, and a mussed head of white hair, her case of albinism is immediately apparent. She lacks for clothes, instead covered by a bloodied set of bandages in lieu of anything else to remain modest. All this aside, her form is by and large normal – excepting her feet, which are an affair more taloned than one would find typical of an average girl. Standing at around about five feet and nothing extra, she gives a shriek and tries to claw her way off the pile, bone piercing through skin as she errs in her panic and goes careening towards the floor. Atop the pile these two have vacated, meanwhile, sit our other girls.

Aida, one is called, and there can be no mistaking her youth as she fights to classify for being even four feet tall. Like Adrian before her, the skin of her body bears a heavy tan – unlike that girl, patches of Aida's skin are marred with a scorched black, as though she's been selectively charred. At her fingers' ends are nails each a foot in length, sharp as can be; hiding in her jaw are numerous rows of shark teeth, a wholly carnivorous maw that desires flesh and flesh alone. Her garb is simple, a dark blue long-sleeved shirt alongside a beige skirt, though the soft glow of a lighter blue pierces through the fabric of her shirt. “Where are we?” the child muses softly as she looks around.

“A battlefield?” Her final compatriot answers question with question, and is named Alexis. Taller than Aida by a small margin, yet still diminutive, she joins Altina in the club of girls with little remarkable about their bodies. She fits into long robes of grey, and her own white hair runs nearly to the floor. Or, more specifically, to the bodies beneath her feet; but she gets to descending the corpse mound to reach that floor proper, this time without injury.
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Aida muses a second on Alexis' words, arriving at the response of, “I ended up here because I did something bad... isn't that right?” Yet it's spoken more to herself than to any of her sisters, and thereafter she joins everyone at the bottom.

On her arrival, Adrian is in the process of inspecting her muscles, not quite recalling being this buff in life. Altina is staring at the mound of corpses laughing just a little unstably as she wonders, “How many are here, even?” Too many to count, and nary a one is intact; it's really closer to a mound of dismembered body parts. As she further unnerves herself, the muscle of the group decides to inspect something besides her own body.

That would be the world outside of our small confines, the walls barely taller than our oldest girl. Pulling herself over them to have a gander, she finds a vista as orange as the sky above, the dusty scenery of an arid plain rolling by at a fair clip. Occasionally, a lifeless tree scrolls by as well, breaking up the monotony of the sights. Between that and the shape of the box we're in, the mechanical noise can be deduced as an engine – we're on a corpse truck. Armed with this knowledge, Adrian drops back down.

Where she's met with a tug of the sleeve and a question from Aida. “Hey. Why am I glowing?” The smallest of dolls reasons, after all, that the largest of them surely knows the most and can answer her. Adrian does not provide an immediate answer – instead she asks who this tiny person she hadn't yet noticed is, and introductions begin.
Or, some do. Alexis has her own answer for the glow's cause, a joking suggestion of, “Maybe you've a bomb in your chest.” To go with this, she pokes at Aida's shirt, and strangely, the finger keeps going long past where it should have stopped at stomach. These are both somewhat disconcerting to the other small one, who is now compelled to check what's going on, while the muscle's second head berates Alexis for the joke which was in poor taste.

Or was it really a joke? Because there's quite a sight when Aida lifts her shirt slightly to take a peek. Where should be a stomach is instead a lattice of pulsating flesh strips, leaving numerous holes to the inside of her torso. Intestines, stomach and more are visible, as is a peculiar addition: a spherical organ, working to distribute some glowing substance to the lattices. “Is that what a bomb looks like?” she asks, legitimately considering the possibility it'll explode on her.

As this all goes on, Altina has effectively sat herself in the corner, growing wide a smile that's certainly not expressing joy, bloodied hand pressed to her face. “Lovely. Lovely, all of this, oh, fantastic,” she says, tone implying quite the opposite. As a proper conversation burgeons, however, she's pulled from the idea of having a breakdown.

Her arrival is noted by Adrian with an 'oh,' who inquires, “I guess you don't know what's going on either?” A distinct pause follows this question, several long seconds of an unblinking stare from Altina, whose uncanny smile goes nowhere.

Its end is marked by a sweetly acidic, “If I knew where we were, I would not have tumbled off a pile of limbs and snapped this leg of mine in half.” Indicated for emphasis is the leg out of which fractured bone escapes.
The bite of Altina's response is lost on Adrian, who instead lets her and everyone else know, “We're in a truck or something, the place out there's pretty empty so I think we'd best wait for this to get wherever it's goin', because hell if I know where we are.” At the same time, she picks up the tiny and concerned Aida, pulling her into a hug. “You're not going to explode or nothing, got it?” she insists to her, in an attempt to ease the worries.

In the midst of this we strike a bump, the truck rattling up and down. Spare body parts are sent flying, some splattering and spreading blood. With the jostling comes a metallic clang, a gap opening in one of the walls. This comes with a muffled expletive from the opposite direction, which may well have been another, “SHIT!”

“Maybe that's the driver,” Adrian reasons, bulky enough to not be perturbed by the shaking. Bulky enough, indeed, that as Aida is pressed to her chest, she can hear four different hearts beating at once, an entire cluster of the things working hard to pump blood for a body that, technically, doesn't need it.

Loud though it is, in concert with the muscle's insistence, it soothes the tiny child. “I'm not going to blow up?” she repeats, a second passing before she nods. “If I blew up, that might hurt Adrian. So I can't blow up.” Thus is her resolve steeled, certain there will be a lack of explosions.

Alexis continues to be flippant, musing aloud, “Is this a, 'Bring out your dead!' 'I'm not dead yet.' scenario?” Complete with poor impressions. At least that's checked off the obligatory Monty Python reference.

(As a bit of a note, I don't tend to keep much art to hand, so I don't really have anything to go with the dump; expect walls of text without end. There's a lot to post here.)
Having run through the initial shock of waking up on a pile of corpses and the secondary shock of being capable of walking despite having a mangled leg, Altina's eyes widen as one rather questionable facet of her current situation sinks in. “Couldn't even spare me proper clothing, could they?” The realization prompts, of all things, giggles, mouth hiding behind hand. “Of course they wouldn't, not for -me-,” she asserts. “That'd mean I'd have some -dignity-.”

Coming from Adrian as answer is, “Well, if they wanted you to have dignity, they probably wouldn't have thrown you onto a pile of corpses.” It is a rather ignoble place to awake – and it's becoming an increasingly noisy one, as further sounds reach our ears. More engines, these acute and higher in pitch, almost like a buzzing. Alongside them are heavy and rapid footfalls, so faint they're hard to pick out. There's a third and final addition, as well.

“OH FUCK!” That would be the presumed driver, panicking slightly as her ears catch what's incoming. A theory easily confirmed by the fact that the clouds ahead start to pass by more quickly, the roar of the engine growing in intensity. The truck has been floored, and is attempting to flee whatever pursuit is upon us.

Continuing her displays of initiative, it's Adrian who's first to shout, “HEY! UP THERE! WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?!” to whoever is frantically trying to escape with us in tow. She receives no answer, likely a consequence of the music which must be turned up high if it's reaching us at all. Dissatisfied at being ignored, and without even putting down Aida, the muscle skirts her way past the corpse mound to where it sounds like the driver is, pounding on the wall as she shouts again, “HEY!”

That earns a reaction, in the form of the music vanishing and another panicked cry of, “OH GOD, WHAT WAS THAT?” A knock on her cab seems like it also isn't on the list of things she was expecting.
Nominated now as our representative, Adrian's answer that answers nothing is, “THAT'S US!” More importantly, she'd still like to know, “WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?”

Our driver friend would like to know the same, responding incredulously with, “WHAT, THERE'S PEOPLE BACK THERE?!” If she's going to be confronted with this development, though, she'd like to requisition our help. “UH, DO ME A SOLID AND LOOK OUT THE BACK FOR ME! I THINK I SAW SOMETHING!”

In the midst of this, Altina claps her hands together merrily and exclaims, “Ooh, we're being chased, aren't we? How exciting!” Anything to distract from the macabre reality of trundling along with the disparate pieces of who knows how many people.

It's as she turns around to take a look that Adrian realizes she's been carrying Aida during that entire shouting stint, reluctantly setting her down with an apology. “Try not to shout in people's ears again,” she's chided by her other head. And while said head claims to be Adrian as well, her more common moniker is now bestowed with a, “Right, coach.”

Not that the cause of this chiding minds it terribly much. Rather than concern herself with the shouting, Aida focused on the pursuit. “Chased? Are we being chased by bad people?” The concern returns to her face and her voice as she looks over at the more eager Altina. She mutters to herself again, a muted, “I'm sorry for whatever it was I did...”

Alexis has been trying to repeat Adrian's feat of pulling over one of the truck's sides, as opposed to the reasonable option of peering through the little opening, which means no one yet has a report for the driver, who'd really rather like one, actually, prodding with an urgent, “FUCK, ARE YOU STILL THERE? WHAT DO YOU SEE?!”
More important to Adrian before she goes to check, however, is calming the tiniest party member again. “Don't worry,” she says confidently, a small grin on her face as she punches lightly at the air. “If there's bad people chasing us, I'll give'em the ol' one, two.” With this, she goes to see what's up, and Alexis gives up on trying to clamber, instead peering through the gap.

Both are greeted with the sight of a number of dust clouds in the distance, clearly gaining on our ever mobile position. Three stand at the head, trails produced by the smallest members of whatever group is chasing after ours. Not far behind this trio is a figure clearly larger than its fellows, even at this distance, kicking up a wider spray of dirt and dust. Far behind, near to the horizon, one member of the group seems to be getting left in the literal dust. Thus our report.

Adrian remains spokeswoman, letting the driver know – in slightly less of a yell – that, “I can't really tell what they are, but they look big!” While it's not a terribly telling report, none of us could have done better at this distance, and it seems to give our unwitting host enough.

“GODDAMNIT, I THOUGHT I LOST THESE DUMBASSES.” Clear is the exasperation, but we lack a slight bit of context here.

Returning to full-force shouting, Adrian wants to know, “WHO ARE THEY?” And also, she's yet to get an answer to, “WHAT'S GOING ON?”

A small note is added by Alexis, who's curious. “How fresh are the corpses?” is her own pertinent question.

It's a question Altina's willing to help try and answer, prodding an arm with a foot, cocking her head as it rolls, bounces, and bumps on the uneven road. “I honestly can't say!” she admits without much reserve thereafter, though she appends a guess of, “But if it's bleeding, I'd say... fairly fresh?”
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>have to go to bed
>story anon posts
It ain't fair, anons.
The shouting match continues alongside this, varyingly helpful responses coming back from the driver. Likely to Alexis is a perturbed rant of, “HELL IF I KNOW. I'M JUST A DRIVER. THIS WASN'T IN THE JOB DESCRIPTION, Y'KNOW! I'M GONNA GIVE HER A MOUTHFUL WHEN I GET HOME.” Much more to the point is the afterthought to who it is that's after us, “IT'S PROBABLY THOSE GODDAMNED RUSSIANS AGAIN!”

Out of that all, what Adrian latches onto is, “GIVE WHO A MOUTHFUL?”

Thinking the answer rather obvious, the driver's snappy retort is, “MY FUCKING BOSS!” Further attempts to get anything more than a bare handle on the situation produce only speculation that we may, in fact, be Russian, and counter-queries as to how we even got here. Of course, all anyone knows is that we just woke up here, earning an emphatic reply of, “THE CARGO WAS DEAD WHEN I LEFT EUROPE. ARE YOU SHITTING ME?” Well, clearly not, considering we're very much pseudo-alive back here.

Interrupting this back-and-forth is Alexis, who pokes Adrian's arm and would like her to, “Use your outdoors voice to ask if we can throw the bodies at those pursuing us.”

“That's a good idea...” In spite of agreeing with the thought, there's something else to establish – who this child even is, as this has all gone down without the robed girl offering an introduction. Naturally then, Adrian would like to know, “What's your name?”

“Alexis, Jedi Knight.” This answer is delivered sincerely and without jest, complete with a formal bow to round everything off. It's a bold claim, one cay say that much.

Finding that just precious, a large hand lowers to pat the little girl on the head. “Awww, of course you are.” Simultaneously, Coach calls to the back, “Hey, what if we throw some of the bodies back here at them?”

The pause before Coach gets anything back is just long enough for Altina to break into more giggling with an amused, “Jedi Knight? Oh, that is -precious-!”
The storytime will be there when you wake up, anon. All of these posts aren't going anywhere.

Less amused is the owner of the truck we've stowed away upon when considering us throwing body parts at these supposed Russians. “WHAT? NO! THAT'S THE CARGO! I NEED THAT! YOU CAN'T DO THAT! BESIDES, IT'S NOT GONNA DO YOU ANY GOOD! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY GUNS OR SOMETHING?”

Immediately it's asserted that, “No we don't have any guns!” by Adrian, who likewise considers, “Why would we have guns if they thought we were dead?”

Still, the others search; Alexis' check of her robes yields a metallic, cylindrical object, which she holds triumphantly to the air. “I've a lifesaver!” she claims, which doesn't exactly do much good when we're still in the vehicular pursuit stage of things.

Altina comes up entirely bereft of even a single possession, unless one wishes to count bandages which needed changing long ago. “I have precisely nothing! Ah, life is such a joke, isn't it?” Hers, however, is not the tone of someone terribly bothered by the situation, even as it seems most of us are without weapons as the Russians fast close.

Aida? Well, Aida's in the same boat as Altina, having to content herself with only the clothes on her back. She can do little more than sit and ask, “Are the bad guys gonna catch us?”

It's a prospect the driver doesn't appreciate, as conflict approaches inevitably. “CAN'T YOU SHOOT ANYTHING? SPIT ON THEM? I DON'T CARE!” She perhaps disbelieves there's a group of dolls without a single ranged attack to their name, even if they've no guns – but if one of the girls vomits acid, they're not exactly aware of that fact.
The thread may still be here in the morning.
Sleep well anon.
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Stat me.
Absent anything better to do at the moment, Altina decides and declares, “You know, I think I wish to see our pursuers for myself! Excuse me a moment!” That said, she hobbles on over to the hole to get a better look at those giving chase. By this point, it's clear that there are three motorcycles being driven, and one who's following on horseback; the most distant of them is only discernible as quite bulky. While peering intently, focusing on those distant targets, the fingers of her left hand twitch. As this catches her attention, she glances down just in time to catch what occurs. The hand twists and bends, deforming as skin and flesh peel away to reveal an empty tube where should be muscle and bone. Like Aida's midsection, it begins to give off a blue glow. Altina blinks, letting out a slight, “... Well.” And then, on little more than whim, she levels it at one of the bikers, eyes squinting. Her reward for this curiosity is a high-pitched whine and a zipping bolt of blue, cutting through air then flesh, blood joining the cloud behind a slowing bike.

Our driver is, of course, quick to respond to the sound of laser gunfire. “WHAT WAS THAT, DID YOU DO IT?” she frantically demands in trying to keep appraised.

“YEAH, IT WAS ONE OF US!” Coach answers for the group, which reveals something that has yet to come to light.

“ONE OF?! HOW MANY ARE ALIVE BACK THERE?!” One would think that more numbers would be preferable when pursued by angry Russians, but then maybe she's just tired of surprises at this point.

“FOUR OF US!” Adrian lets the driver know.

“Five of us,” Alexis comments, taking a look at Coach.
Altina, during this all, makes questionable unlife choices. That is to say, she spends some time inspecting her newfound laser arm, which includes occasionally looking down the barrel, before she realizes maybe she shouldn't melt her own head off. Thus she glances back to the rest, with a smile that bares teeth, and announces, “It seems I was was incorrect before, but this is more than fine!”

She gets a smile back from Adrian and a thumbs up, as well as an encouraging, “Good work! Keep doing that!”

Aida hangs beside the gunner and cheers, “She's gonna protect us from the bad guys!” Glory and the spotlight are Altina's for now.


There can be no consolation, as the Russians still gain on us, and they've dispersed such it's not quite viable to continue the potshots. Adrian offers them a particular, singular finger over the truck's walls, met in kind by the horseman. Alexis calls out to them, “Excuse us! Can you stop chasing us?!” and gets naught back but laughter. First from the horse-bound assailant, and then eventually the bikers, whose voices are heavily distorted, seeming more like attempts to imitate the equestrian.

The moment of dread draws ever closer, the herald of one question from our distraught driver. “CAN YOU GUYS FIGHT?!” Its answers are mixed.

The first, a roar of pride. “HELL YEAH I CAN FIGHT!” Adrian bounces upon the soles of her feet, ready and excited for the scrap about to come.

Soon after, Alexis attempts to obviate the whole thing, waving her hand at a nearby bike and stating, as one would a fact, “You want to go home and rethink your life.” Sadly, it would seem that regardless of the laser sword she might have, she's missing a few associated jedi tricks.
>Legion x 1
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Expression fraught with apology, Aida glances to no one here and murmurs, “Fight? I don't wanna have to fight...”

And of the Russians, Altina says in a huff, “They are so -rude-.” Her eyes narrow, her teeth gleam, and she continues, “Well, that's just fine, I suppose. Manners can always be taught.”

That leaves us with precious little time as the road grows increasingly bumpy. Even if we aren't run off of it, we're likely to crash ourselves without slowing down. No choice remains. “HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS!” is the warning we get before the crucial moment. Then there's a hard swerve, a violent screeching of the brakes, and the entire back door goes flying off as we come to an awfully abrupt stop. The dolls are in varying states of disarray after that, but it's time to orient ourselves and get this show over with. Adrian hefts herself over one of the walls, the rest filing out more normally with varying levels of trepidation in confronting these Russians, who've likewise pulled to a stop not far in front of the truck. Yet of course, none of them are quite what the girls would have predicted.

For starters, there's no one riding a motorcycle – the line rider and vehicle is rather thin, given the vehicles are crafted of meat and bone, torsos embedded where one might expect a handles to steer. In place of engine blocks sit instead enormous beating hearts, pumping blood as fuel in lieu of diesel. One of them bleeds profusely from where a chunk of her was blown off by laser fire. Leading them is no horse rider, looking instead more akin to a mythical centaur, a frighteningly beefy foe to square off against for the first time. All four of them bear upon their heads horns of varying sorts. A glance to the side reveals a splatter of blood upon the truck's windshield, the driver having knocked herself out pulling the stunt that stopped us. So it begins.
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Adrian beckons them all to come at her, taking up a fighting stance as she does. This is met by a grunt of an order from the centaur, hand waving the bikes forward as engines rev. Burning whatever muscle passes for rubber, they speed for everyone who's done something to antagonize them. Which happens to be everyone except Aida. While Adrian may have the sense about her to avoid being gored or run over, the other two aren't quite so fortunate. Tires splatter the whole of Alexis' midsection as she's bowled over, while a sharpened horn tears the entrails from Altina. For a doll, things could be much worse. This still infuriates the muscle.

With a battle cry of, “HEY! PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE, YOU SHITS!” she drives a fist straight into the weakened motorgirl, rending what it passes through to a visceral paste; with Coach's advice of, “Cross!” she brings around the other, and while it finds uncannily hard flesh, that's not enough to stem her rage. If the cry that comes thereafter is any indication, these things can feel pain – and that one's certainly hurting. So begins the taunting. “What's the matter? You were talkin' big before! All bark and no bite!”

Not far over, while Adrian is trying to collect all the attention in the universe, a disemboweled Altina only widens her grin. One arm is already a cannon. The other similarly cracks and unfurls, revealing a much more permanent laser not unlike a lightsaber itself. It's spared but a glance before she sets to retribution, searing away at the one who dared to gore her. “Two pounds of flesh for every one of mine!” A bold shout from her, and one delivered upon as char begins to mark the passage of her blade.
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Watching this, a stomping centaur works herself into a fury, barreling forward and rearing back with her hooves, to bring their crushing might upon Adrian. Forewarned by Coach's shout of, “Look out for the big one!” she gives it a kick, sending the horse crashing instead upon one of its subordinates, cause for a cocky grin. Frustrating as that might be for the equine girl, the cavalry has arrived. The trailing fifth Russian rolls up, revealing just what she is. A biomechanical beast of burden, impressive in size and gliding forward on spindly, wheeled legs that look ill-suited to carrying her bulk. She sits under a metallic shell laden with cargo and seems little more than a pack mule, yet with guns in place of arms she's hardly defenseless.

As Alexis forces herself up with what few scraps of flesh connect her upper and lower halves, however, she's more immediately interested in the bike which has skidded back around. Not wanting to be left behind, she tries a shout of her own as her lightsaber begins to hum with life. “Road kill, when you're killed by what you ran over!” Whatever one may think of that, it precedes a vengeful carving not unlike Altina's.

Speaking of whom, she hems in a terrified bike with laser fire, leaving it little choice but to continue squaring off with Adrian. Suffice to say its fear is warranted, as the muscle works herself up into a frenzy and tears at her foe, becoming one with the carnage as what once resembled bike and girl becomes instead a messy puddle full of giblets. When its eradication is full and complete, the muscle again speaks, “Looks like I need a new sparring partner.” Fear echoes through the ranks of the motorized.
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I am digging the art in these.
Yet for Aida, who has thus far shielded herself within Adrian's shadow, it is instead the catalyst of bravery. The tide of battle turns well, and she too feels as though she can contribute. In silence she steps forth, testing the waters with the swipe of a hand, sure enough finding those nails not merely for show as she aids Alexis.

A forceful kick from said jedi staves off the wicked hands of the bike; the mule levels a sniper rifle, its report beaten out by Coach's warning of, “Coming in on your left!” Off a raised arm the bullet ricochets, like striking steel. “WAIT YOUR TURN!” Adrian roars to the distant gunner, distracted enough her swings as she charges another bike go wide.

With everything going swimmingly at this point, Aida is yet further emboldened by her bloodied nails. Not only can she help, she can extra help – swiping at the big one is even better, right? Thus she does an about face, sprinting her way over there, claws extended as she... trips over her own feet. Gravity does its thing, dragging her towards the ground, and Alexis feels a disturbance in the force. With a warning of, “Get back!” she dives on instinct, an extended hand magically pulling Adrian with her, proving crucial not half a second later. As soon as Aida takes a hard landing, a lattice cracks; as soon as it cracks, an explosive burst of blue is conjured, the whole area around her consumed by conflagration. Divine providence assures the only wound Aida comes away with is that which the fall dealt; not so for the centaur and bike, now shorter of parts and pieces, scattered all across the battlefield. Nonetheless the girl lays and sobs, for she is in fact a living bomb, and there can be no surer proof.
The bloodthirsty Adrian is slightly confused about why she's now where she is, or indeed what the last two seconds entailed. It only serves to further enrage her, especially considering she's no longer in punching range of anything. “GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!” she demands of her enemies, but none heed her. The mule fires upon Altina, interrupting her her duel with a blast of buckshot that rips into the girl's legs. The centaur and bike, parted from the muscle, descend reluctantly upon the crying Aida. Under hoof her head vanishes, now sprayed across the ground; under fist her torso knits itself back together, now ready again. The regret is immediate but momentary as another explosion rings out, obliterating the bike, crippling the centaur, and leaving a far more gaping hole in the tiny bomb's chest. Awful as it may be, it's hard to deny the efficacy of that volatile construction.
That, really, marks the point at which the would-be raiders haven't got much chance left. They are outnumbered, and the only one among them without extensive damage is the mule – a fact which Adrian tries to fix when it draws her ire, before it scampers away in panic. The centaur has become blinded by rage, striking the mule to vent frustration at being unable to catch any of the party now; by the way it recedes and whines, that seems to be a common occurrence. Between Aida and Adrian, what damage pours in can often vanish – at one point the muscle picks up her own fallen jaw, coated in the gore of her enemies, their viscera gluing it on to the victorious cry of, “Breakfast of champions!” Soon after, the final bike has been scattered, their leader is merely an angry pair of arms flailing at the darkness, and the mule has defected, shooting at its former master. By rights there need be no further developments, the fight is won. Altina has other ideas. Taking her sword-arm and closing in, she goes to finish off the severed appendages that are still trying to hit something, anything. With a swift stab, she finds... Aida. Aida's chest. Aida's chest which has had plenty of time to reconstitute itself and the explosive compound which courses it.
Nature didn't retreat from the world when man left the stage, she merely began the next act.
Alexis can get herself and Adrian out of the blast again, but that's as far as that goes. Altina has a fraction of a moment to understand the error of her ways and start to laugh before the largest explosion yet rocks the place. The arms are mere ashes upon the wind. A chunk of Altina's torso is all that remains after her blunder. The only one remotely intact is the very epicenter of the destruction herself, who's paradoxically resilient for someone that explodes at the slightest prodding. All that remains of the Russians is one mule that no one can really call an enemy now. Yet still proximity – or, rather, the lack there of – is the only thing that spares it the fists of a torn and incensed Adrian, whose bellow of, “I NEED A NEW PUNCHING BAG, THIS ONE IS DEAD!” competes with the suicide bombings for volume. Absent anything looking at her funny though, the haze of battle begins to subside, leading to a perplexed remark from Coach. “Hey, wasn't there four of us?”
Indeed, there was, and it's up to Adrian to find the generally mangled bodies of her sisters and work on stitching them together. Two of them are intact enough to pick out as having once held human shape; in fact Alexis is functional enough to sit and meditate on the group's victory, which she chooses to. Aida, then, is the one that Adrian picks up, the bomb reprimanded with, “Oh, I told you to stay behind me!” While true, it had seemed at the time like she could afford to chip in. “I promise you we'll get you fixed up when we find where Altina went!” Now, Aida would very much like to state she knows exactly where that girl went, but there's the small matter of her missing head. And missing lungs. And missing everything else. While her body seems to be growing back automatically, given the extent of the damages, it's slow going. That leaves in charge of search and rescue the girl that failed to realize Aida was the one doing the exploding for the entire duration of that fight. What follows is a farce.
Trying to be helpful, Coach pipes up, “Kid, I think that's what's left of her over there.” There's merely one problem. Coach is a head on a shoulder, and can't direct Adrian's body to indicate where she means. Thus the lunk looks anywhere but where her other half wants. “No, over there!” the head insists, failing again to manage anything. Thankfully, by the third and exasperated, “Over there, idiot!” Aida's head has regrown such she has fragments of eyes and can see, letting her point to the small crater Coach has been trying to make Adrian notice. With a sudden, “Oh, that!” the muscle goes and picks up the scraps of her sister, bringing her to the body pile with the raw materials needed to craft an Altina from virtually nothing. While she works, she spots the mule trying to scurry to the back of the truck, smiling at it. Her sharp teeth pose one concern; the blood and strips of flesh from her snacking on the cargo are another. Whether intending kindness or not, the effect produced is that the poor mule fears for her safety, cowering.

Never minding that, Adrian works until she has something resembling an Altina, who has commentary upon the state she was reduced to. “Ah, I am freed of that unpleasantry. Excellent.” Rather a subdued take on being reduced to a splintered rib-cage with a tiny snake peeking out of it.

More perturbed is Adrian, who, now having a conversational partner, wonders aloud, “Why'd they have to keep exploding like that instead of actually fighting?” For this comment she receives a tug at her sleeve from a much more intact bomb, who is unsurprisingly distraught at this exact moment. Pointing down, the girl tries to slink away in silence, but is stymied by a lack of understanding and the question of, “Huh? What is it?”
“I want down,” Aida responds, voice full of guilt as she does so. Not seeming keen on acquiescing, Adrian all the same does – she can put Altina together faster if she frees up her other hand. So given control of her newly recreated body, the bomb skulks off a fair distance. As far as she thinks her explosions might reach, and then a bit further for good measure. Safely isolated, she kneels upon the ground, eyes closed and hands clasped, settling into prayer as she apologizes. “I'm really sorry. Whatever I did. Please. Don't put any more bombs in me. I'll be a good girl, and pray five times every day and everything...” Thus she pleads that Allah have mercy upon her.

Leaving her to solitude, Adrian takes an uncharacteristically kindly tone as she asks Altina, “Can you put the rest of yourself back?”

Perfectly alright now that she's got a head, an arm or so, and enough of a chest, Altina's perfectly content to answer, “Ah, just set me down wherever, it's fine. Unless there aren't any more parts to take care of myself, in which case it isn't fine.” Lucky for her, the universe has not rewritten that our ride happened to be a truck full of corpse bits, so there's plenty for her to tinker with.

Setting her sister down, Adrian explains her simple plan. “I'm gonna go have a chat with our driver.”

At the very mention of the word, the cab door finds itself kicked open. Virulent is the shout of, “YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! FUCKING RUSKIES!” Credit to her for the bravery, but it's a tad late to decide she's going out in a blaze of glory.

As she's informed in two simple words, “They're dead.” Thus does Adrian bluntly appraise our driver of the situation, while Coach wonders, “Are those even actual Russians?” While her confusion is understandable, they most certainly are.
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The driver's response is to neither statement nor question, but instead to the voice which she just barely recognizes. “Is that you, Adrian?” Finally, for once, she manages a few words that aren't shouted at the top of her lungs as she pokes head and gun barrel out the kicked door. With palpable relief she sighs, “Oh, thank god.” Then comes the hope that's already come true, but evidently she missed the report. “Tell me you killed them all.”

Altina beats Adrian to the punch on this one, perking up from her work of patching up at this. Matter-of-factly, she rattles off, “There were explosions. I was blown up in one. Everyone who assaulted us is dead.” Slightly incorrect.

Adrian's finger juts at the mule, hiding by the back of the truck, adding, “Well there is the one there. But they've given up.”

That's enough to get the girl to finally hop down and out of the truck. Our driver is a black girl that looks barely any older than Aida. Her clothes are simple – overalls cover a perfectly plain shirt, and her short, dark brown hair's covered in a red trucker's cap. There's also all the blood, but that's less a permanent fixture and more a consequence of her swift stop. Semis aren't really meant for those. The only abnormality she bears are mechanical legs, a necessity for her to reach the pedals. Her head turns slowly to see the carnage that used to be the Russian raiders, smears of viscera and craters from explosions. Then she turns back to see the mule we've essentially adopted, barely peeking out from behind her cargo. Finally, her eyes settle on Adrian again, two slow words her only comment. “... Good job.”

The muscle shrugs casually, not thinking much of it. “It was fun,” she explains, receiving from the trucker a look that questions her mental faculties. Adrian's answer is a smile as Coach explains, “The kid needs her exercise.”

(In Lola's case I was not given full portrait art, so the scaled down version will have to do.)
Over by the back, Altina smiles as she twists and shoves a leg until it fits snugly onto protruding bone. She cheerily adds, “I can shoot lasers from my left arm and slice idiots with a laser sword in my right. This day has been fruitful!”

This does not introduce the group terribly well to the girl, who's perhaps slightly pointed in her statement of, “Well, sorry to inform you bunch, but I have no cash on me. Or anything of value 'sides the bits in the back.” Here she takes her hat off and hides it behind her back. “Nothing at all,” she emphasizes.

“We're not trying to rob you or anything,” Adrian assures the girl that might be getting the wrong idea. “We just woke up in the back.”

The driver undercuts herself in her own retort of, “Look, I checked the back. Once. In Europe. You weren't there.”

It is here that the muscle finishes her inspection of the girl and comes to a conclusion. “Look at you, such a -cute little thing-!”

The extent of what she gets out is,“Wait wha-” before she's scooped up and pulled into a hug, pressed into a chest that's still got something of a gaping wound. While this is far from the most pleasant of positions, there's bright sides to this. From the muscle's chest cavity comes a muffled, “Well, at least you're not trying to kill me now. That's a good sign. That karma is finally coming my way.” Though the point at which Adrian begins to squeeze without full regard for her strength is the point at which the squirming begins and she quickly calls, “Please put me down!” She is not put down.

“Aw, I could just eat you up!” There's is only one reasonable response to this.

“HELP!” shouts the driver, as though there's anyone else for miles around.

“I am the help~” trills the muscle.

Short of stature and shorter of options, there's little for the trucker to respond with except, “Oh god.”
Letting this all happen five feet away, Altina simply continues putting herself back together, having now reached the point at which she again has all the necessary hallmarks of the human structure. Head: check. Legs: check. Arms still become laser swords and cannons: Check, check, and she really should check that she doesn't behead herself with her own sword. Quite pleased by these proceedings, she gives a jubilant, “Ha! Excellent!”

Also excellent is the idea that Adrian hits upon now, perking her up even more. “Hey... can I drive the truck?”

Here, even more emphatically than her desire to get down, she refuses, “Hell no! It's not my truck! If you crash it I'll never hear the end of it!”

But the muscle insists. “Aw, come on~ We chased away those huskies or whatever.”

And while compelling, the argument fails to address one thing. “... Do you even know how?”

“Of course,” it's asserted with confidence.

“... Really?” It's nonetheless unconvincing.

“I'm old enough to drive.” And while that may be true...

“That doesn't mean you know HOW to.” The trucker's squinting eyes shall have to be imagined, given her face is embedded in a tangle of entrails.

Yet relentless is the muscle. “I mean, suuuuure, I don't remember driving, exactly. But I remember it's like a bike and you never forget how to drive those.”

And in persistence is victory, taking the form of a defeated, “Okay, fine, just let me go.” Having now express permission, Adrian hops into the cab, disentangling the trucker and setting her aside while taking the driver's seat. She's swiftly and summarily stopped. “Wait, what, you can't just leave the back open like that! All the merchandise is going to fall off!” the trucker protests before a key can even be turned.

“Oh. Right, Which button do you hit to fix that?” Adrian scans the dashboard for any such button, unable to find one. Which isn't surprising, considering the door is embedded into the ground twenty feet away.
“You use your hands.” What exactly she means fails to sink in, but appendations are cut off by Altina's head popping in.

“This is maybe an unwise decision, but is there further room up front?” she asks as she scans the place. “I have had quite enough of riding with all the parts.”

The driver is done by this point. “Look, you can all ride up front just fix the back please.” Adrian is not done by this point.

“Of course I use my hands to push the button,” she states simply now, still not having found her miracle cure. “What else would I use? My foot?”

Balking at the sheer lack of comprehension on display, the trucker's response is an agitated, “I mean you gotta fix it manually you dummy! There's not a button for that! I wish!”

“Alright then.” As if without fault, she acquiesces and picks the girl back up, hauling her over to the back where a gaze asks for instructions.

“Uh... You wouldn't happen to have a blowtorch, would you?” the driver asks without much hope. As she inspects the damage, found sitting there in the back is one tiny bomb, who's nestled herself into a nice little corner where she's unlikely to cause any trouble.

“Nope, only the two hands God gave me!” And as the muscle answers, spied near to the bomb is the mule, who's decided that she's coming along with us. Aida gives it a little wave, accepting it as a comrade in sin, though she chooses to curl up more tightly into her safe space.

“Well, just pick up the door and put it back where it was. Give it a good slam so it's jammed in there and doesn't fall off again. You're strong, right?” Ideas cobbled together, the mule gives a high whistle, head spinning while a gun waves in return.
With surety comes the muscle's, “Of course!” as she sets the driver down to go retrieve the door. Altina pokes her head around the corner at these proceedings, seeing her sister settled in for the upcoming ride. What the driver sees is an opportunity, replacing her cap and making a break for the truck's front. A skulk may have done her better.

The door, barely out of the ground, is dropped with a sudden, “Oh no you don't.” Adrian bolts for the tiny, fleeing girl, displaying unholy speed in recapturing her. “How're ya gonna make sure we do it right if you ain't watchin'?” So chiding, she goes to pick the door back up while Altina makes up her mind. She's not going to be leaving Aida alone, much less with a former enemy combatant, so she makes herself as comfortable as she can manage when surrounded by gore, eyeing the last Russian to make sure nothing funny goes down.

Aida glances over and acknowledges her sister, but says nothing, continuing to gird herself with an excess of guilt as arms further tighten. Unfazed, Altina offers the smile that's been nigh-continuous, though it's hardly the most reassuring. As the door slides into place and a great bang cements its position – as well as dents it considerably – the white-hair attempts to open dialogue. “I am well again. That explosion was magnificent, by the way.”

Her attempt is met with a shake of the head and a sullen denial. “It wasn't. It's my punishment. I'm gonna keep getting bombs in me forever now...”

“A punishment that helps annihilate your enemies is no punishment at all, I feel,” she retorts with, practical in her argument. There comes a cock of the head, however, a pause forming the addition of, “... Even if I managed to catch myself in that last explosion on accident. But it worked out well, in the end.”
But what Altina's selling, Aida's not buying, another quick shake of the head denying those words, aided by her own. “I know that I did something bad. So it must be my punishment. But it's my fault, so I deserve it. But why does Allah have to punish everyone else as well...” The mule has a whimper of a response, dejected in tone. Truly, a comrade of suffering.

Altina will offer no such agreement, verbal or non. “You should be applying a positive outlook to this,” she states, hitting upon a wondrous idea. “Perhaps 'Allah' gave this to you so you could explode at those who do wrong? It did an excellent job of that, as I saw it.”

Ruminating upon this more positive outlook, the bomb's features slowly lose the guilt that prior wracked her. Hers is a resolute nod. “If I punish enough other people that were bad, maybe he'll forgive me and I won't get any more bombs in me. I'll have to explode at lots of people until I'm forgiven!” So is undertaken the quest for redemption.

“Yes. This is a good outlook on things.” Altina's is a decisive nod, smile again baring teeth. “We will just have to find lots of bad people to explode.” And with that Aida smiles as well, unveiling the rows seemingly impossible numbers of shark teeth. There in the back silence reigns, now peaceful.

Departure is still a minute off though, as Alexis has been doing her best rock impression where she sat herself before. While Adrian picks her up so she isn't left behind, the trucker gestures at her overalls. A patch is practically falling off of them, the word 'Kilolo' upon it. The 'Ki' is struck through, and the second 'o' as been extended slightly into an 'a'. In a startling display of intellect, Adrian catches her meaning instantly. “Lola, huh?”
“Now we're introduced. Go ahead and drive.” Two girls in hand, Adrian returns to the front to do just that, depositing the small ones upon one seat while she takes the other. As Adrian fiddles with things and gets ready to give it a shot, doubt gnaws again. “... You do know how, right?”

“Of -coooourse- I do.” Somehow, this continues to be not terribly reassuring, undeath the only barrier to Lola sweating bullets. A moment of thought passes while the muscle considers where to start, prompting Coach's cautioning, “... Kid. You don't know how to drive a truck.” One head turns to the other, protesting, “What? But they're just like cars, only bigger!”

“I wish,” Lola cuts in sarcastically.

“We both know that isn't true.” Coach's frank statement is met with an, “Oh, come on...” that refuses to accept reality. That just leaves a fact known only to her more stable half. “You don't want to make any bombs on here explode, do you?” The silence of consideration this brings is broken by a deeply troubled question.

“... There's a bomb?” A fact that makes the idea of the muscle driving exponentially more concerning. Luckily, Lola gets to watch Adrian wither under Coach's impatient stare, before her hands leave the wheel and she shuffles to offer the driver's seat to the professional. “Yay. Finally.” With this simple celebration, Lola takes her rightful place, settling in with the certainty of a seasoned veteran. The engine rumbles to life, the truck is wheeled onto the road, and as she takes her vehicle down familiar paths, a slight tremble comes with every jostling bump that may bring about an explosion. It's gonna be a tense ride to where the group's headed.
And that's that. Twenty-nine posts to cover a single session. Future installments may well not be this insane, because this was possibly slightly overboard. I'm still trying to figure out how to pick and choose what gets in and what gets cut to make everything flow nicely. Like I said, I'll figure things out going forward. I hope people enjoyed this long-winded nonsense, and I'll exist for a long while yet if anyone gets through the whole thing and has questions about what little was covered.
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>“... There's a bomb?”
I'll probably have things to say in the morning when I'm rested and sober.
>Another game is just straight up set in the space age with undead manning ships because space is dangerous and FTL kills people.

This sounds interesting.
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Looking forward to reading this tommorow.
Cargo train full of corpses.

Consider that idea stolen.
Ok that is surprisingly ominous.
“. . . and when the first men to go Up and Out went to the Moon, what did they find?”

“Nothing”, responded the silent chorus of lips.

“Therefore they went further, to Mars and to Venus. The ships went out year by year, but they did not come back until the Year One of Space. Then did a ship come back with the First Effect. Scanners, I ask you, what is the First Effect?”

“No one knows. No one knows.”

“No one will ever know. Too many are the variables. By what do we know the First Effect?”

“By the Great Pain of Space”, came the chorus.

“And by what further sign?”

“By the need, oh the need for death.”

Vomact again: “And who stopped the need for death?”

“Henry Haberman conquered the first effect, in the Year 3 of Space.”

“And, Scanners, I ask you, what did he do?”

“He made the habermans.”

“How, O Scanners, are habermans made?”

“They are made with the cuts. The brain is cut from the heart, the lungs. The brain is cut from the ears, the nose. The brain is cut from the mouth, the belly. The brain is cut from desire, and pain. The brain is cut from the world. Save for the eyes. Save for the control of the living flesh…They live in the Great Pain while ordinary men sleep in the cold cold sleep of the transit…They make men live in the place where men need desperately to die.”
I'm way too fucking drunk for words this good.
can't take credit, my brain is just full of shreds like this.


full text, a whole short story.
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It's a game that's been posted about before.

Basically, FTL travel was discovered, but for whatever reason, people die when going through it and most instrumentation just doesn't work. Cameras go out, sensors stop functioning, etc, leaving it completely unknown what actually happens. It's possible for a person to survive it via cryogenics, but autonomous ships almost never properly reach their destination. To give an example, if a planet wanted to send a message to another in a timely manner, they could fit an FTL drive onto a probe and send it out, but that has only about a 3%~ chance of arriving at its destination. Not really viable for shipping or colonization efforts.

The solution that came are undead ships. Poorly understood fusions of flesh and machine, they can ply the interstellar lanes with accuracy and no apparent ill effect. Unfortunately, they are universally "odd" with a seemingly inhuman mindset and strong inclinations towards odd speaking patterns and generally being impossible to figure out, even by their own crews.

Which leads to the crews. The PCs take the role of undead crew aboard one of these ships. It's an existence of fulfilling orders and trying to figure out what to do with yourself in between as time loses its meaning. The crews are forever slaved to their ship as the only alternatives are death or insanity. The crews do not need sleep as the living do, but their minds still crave it. Eventually this craving evolves into insanity, universally ending in either self-annihilation or mass murder. The only thing that can grant them the rest their sanity requires is the ships themselves, who lull them to sleep with songs of their own design.
>as she... trips over her own feet. Gravity does its thing, dragging her towards the ground, and Alexis feels a disturbance in the force. With a warning of, “Get back!” she dives on instinct, an extended hand magically pulling Adrian with her, proving crucial not half a second later. As soon as Aida takes a hard landing, a lattice cracks; as soon as it cracks, an explosive burst of blue is conjured, the whole area around her consumed by conflagration. Divine providence assures the only wound Aida comes away with is that which the fall dealt; not so for the centaur and bike, now shorter of parts and pieces, scattered all across the battlefield. Nonetheless the girl lays and sobs, for she is in fact a living bomb, and there can be no surer proof.

What combination of parts are on display here?

I'm guessing Aida was equipped with Zombie Bomb and this went off.

Did Alexis used Boost to get Adrian and Coach out of the blast zone and Wire Reel to get herself out of the way?


Did Alexis use wire reel to get out of the blast zone giving Adrian the chance to use Follow to get out of the way?

Or was this some other combination of things in a mechanical sense?
It was a combination of Boost and Wire Reel, yes. Alexis' ability to move people around with force pushes was heavily integral to Aida's early success in blowing things up, especially for the short time before she had the favor necessary to take Careful Placement from Blast From the Past. Careful Placement was really the biggest thing however, and Aida wouldn't have worked if the GM wasn't willing to rule that she could use it even though the 8 was automatic.

This first session here was actually originally meant to be a one-shot, which is why Aida is the way she is. She's not just equipped with Zombie Bomb, it is legitimately her main attack part. She is entirely predicated upon its use. A novel idea for a short game, but she would have had to change thoroughly going forward if the game hadn't been rather permissive about homebrew.
>At least that's checked off the obligatory Monty Python reference.


and now we have at least one 40K, Khorne Berzerker, and Dawn of War reference.

I had to type up a cheat sheet on my phone and keep looking at it in order to keep who is who straight since all four characters being introduced have names that start with A and this seemed to sabotage my brain's attempts to assign details to names.

With liberal use of the cheat sheet I finally got it.

Though you can hardly be blamed for the whole group picking names that stared with the same letter.

>Adrian - tall, buff, two heads, dog ears (startled, falls, breaks leg)

>Altina - dainty albino with taloned feet and bandages. (Shrieks, accidently stabs self scrambling off of pile)

>Aida - tiny, tan with parts scorched black, scissor hands, sharp teeth, glowing torso, long sleeve shirt. ( Looks around "where are we?")

>Alexis - Grey robes and white hair, both floor length. ("A battlefield?" Descends pile without injury)
As another fun mechanical note actually, there's a further layer to the absurdity of that moment. When Aida is described as 'tripping over her own feet', what's meant is she rolled 2 on an attack and used Foot to blow herself up. She had been attacking the centaur specifically because its stomping was Waltz, and that aided in the possibility of a critical failure. It is frankly a miracle she was at all helpful.

That was actually unintentional, the alliteration, except by maybe Alexis who was the last girl made. We all just realized we showed up with 'A' names and decided to roll with it at that point.
>Zombie Bomb
>However, "Rapid" and "Check" timings do not occur for this effect.

I have no idea if I'm interpreting this correctly but I'm guessing it means the doll or enemy equipped with zombie bomb can't use Rapids or Checks to get out of the damage by say, Wire reeling themselves out of the area of the map they exploded in.

Is that right?

Also does that mean other units can't use check or rapid parts in responce to zombie bomb being triggered?

(if so then obviously you guys homebrewed it work differently. If so what were the specific rulings and changes you settled on?)
The damage occurs at their location. The explosion can be relocated - via a Rapid that responds to something else - but yes, the bomb itself isn't a valid target for Rapid response. The difference in our rulings is one caused by the game having been run a while ago. In these days of the translation, Zombie Bomb was a Damage timing maneuver, Rapids could be used whenever as long as there was something to respond to, and Meat Shield was simply, "This attack doesn't happen, full stop." They were different times. You can actually see one of the effects of this in Aida's third explosion - it's larger due to the realization that, since Zombie Bomb is Damage, it can simply be triggered twice simultaneously using Delight in Corruption.

So, it's less that we homebrewed things and more that Rapids worked differently as far as we knew at the time. Though we did keep that in - a lot of us prefer the more chaotic and frantic chains that can come about by Rapids being valid at any time. What they were responding to was, of course, Aida's normal attack, which was a valid target for the Reel and Boost. Another ruling that was changed (Or, really, kept.) was that Meat Shield was changed into Meat Shield (Old) and retained its original effect. ZB becoming Auto went through though, which was honestly for the better, since it let Aida go ZB > Voracity > ZB > DiC + Voracity > ZB, effectively increasing her volatility.
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Skill: Bump Thread
Cost: 0
Timing: Rapid
Range: 1
Effect: Revive thread
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>Skill: Bump Thread
>Cost: 0
>Timing: Rapid
>Range: 1
>Effect: Revive thread


I'm excited to read the next part.
Thank you for taking the time to put this together and share it.
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Will some of you or someone else me how you all manage to have so many games of Nechonica, a system obscure and hard to present to others?

For me. My first game was with my MAID group. Experimenting with a newly translated system to see if it was worth using.

Then last year I asked Portanon if they were interested in joining a second nechronica campaign as I had the itch to GM something.

Then when he ran the multi-session short I storytimed earlier in this thread I got to play in that.

So ummm. I got nothing. Sorry.
Honestly, I'm glad to storytime it. It's one of my favorite games, and it only really has competition for the top spot because my first Nechronica character holds a special place in my heart, so naturally her game does as well.

I just dumped points into luck at chargen. Over half a decade ago at this point, I woke up shortly after some madman decided to drop a straight Roll20 join link in a Nechronica thread for any idiot to come along, just before the player count got too high. From there I've simply made sincere enough efforts to RP that I followed a chain to a reasonably stable group, in spite of my accidental mechanical proclivities.
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I was about to offer to help translate shit from JP into EN, but: no links..? Ah well
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Just google nechronica wiki or nechronica translation wiki

they have a link to the translation team's discord on the front page.
Fuck off bumpfag, if a thead slow down let it die instead of forcing it to remain with nothing to talk about.
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I'm thinking of having an all psychedelic party who are guided by visions to a place they've never been for reasons they don't understand.
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Most of my group members are people I game with normally, one [kind-of] exception being >>72759437 because they didn't become a regular part of my /tg/ stuff until after inviting me to their game. But the two other players in that game are people I invited.
Everyone else was someone I'd known for years prior to picking Nechronica up. Two of them were long term writing buddies/homebrew devs and the third was a longtime IRL friend who had been a longtime D&D player. First two had pretty extensive backgrounds in tragedy or body horror and the third liked Made In Abyss, so I figured he could grok the setting if invited.

>Skill: Bump Thread
>Cost: 0
>Timing: Rapid
>Range: 1
>Effect: Ranged Attack 0 + Anger Anon

How do you even effectively build Psychedelics? It feels like they always wind up kind of anemic at chargen due to the limited reinforcement points.
>How do you even effectively build Psychedelics? It feels like they always wind up kind of anemic at chargen due to the limited reinforcement points.

Good question. I'm new to this.
Maybe I should look at giving them all some bonus favor to build with at the start.
That'd be rather difficult to work with, honestly. Psychedelic's drawback of being down a part is pretty painful, and a lot of its skills don't much synergize with other classes'. Even setting aside mechanics, that's simply less interesting stuff you can use to craft your doll's appearance.

I'd probably suggest that, if you want to use the idea, you don't actually mandate people take the class. There's a few other options. You could simply describe hazy visions they get as a consequence of their undead nature, an unnatural tug they feel, not unlike the way their fetters pull them towards their sisters. You could, if you're really insistent they have mechanical backing for it, either let them pick a Psych skill irrespective of their classes, or - if you're really mad - give it to them as an extra subclass. Alternately, along those lines, it'd be at least somewhat reasonable to have them replace a starting skill from their classes with a Psych skill, if you don't want to risk them gaining too much power from a freebie.

The early stages are definitely painful, especially if you're pure Psych. The most fun I've seen someone have with the class was when they had the unique and perfect opportunity to join a game late. With a wealth of favor and access to homebrew, they were able to throw around Hinders, Supports, damage boosts and forced or allied movement, basically acting as the lynchpin of what everyone else did while establishing battlefield control.
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Not the anon who asked, though thank you for answering.

Do you have any other advice for how to build psychedelics?

I've never seen one that made me go "yeah, I'd like to give that a try".
Sometimes a Necromancer would take their show on the road, spreading heady madness like a vengeful roving Dionysus.
>You could, if you're really insistent they have mechanical backing for it, either let them pick a Psych skill irrespective of their classes, or - if you're really mad - give it to them as an extra subclass.

These sound like possbile ideas to me.

Why would giving them a second subclass be a bad idea?

Are their some combinations I'd want to avoid in the "Position/Class/subclass 1/psychadelic subclass" arrangement?

Like would
be bad ideas?
There are interesting potentials, when you really start to think about things. As an example, one could make a Gothic/Psychedelic. Using Rip & Tear to gain Dismember on their basics, Jet Nozzle to supply themselves with damage, and Shared Loss to eventually cash in, you could make a doll who can look at a horror and cause a portion of it to explode from their own self-damage, while also being able to cleave away savant hit locations. From there you can pick starting with either Delight in Corruption to stare explode horrors harder, or Vile Repast to have a better time against dismemberable targets. T3 ENH has nice options as well. Cyborg is never bad and prevents damage you don't want to have happen. Gauntlet makes the R&T swipes 2+Dis, 3+Dis when breaking a basic, while also offering protection. The doll could drop R&T entirely, taking Lightsaber to further emphasize VR, though it will mean burning their parts more rapidly if they're constantly enhancing damage. Junk pairs nicely here since it has Lame Beast, though keep in mind it's kind of a dumb skill for how much it can give someone.

Other than that... I don't see a lot off the top of my head. A lot of the things I'd think to try make for awful part distribution. I could maybe think of more if I looked to homebrew, but that's an iffy consideration. That said, I would advocate Blast for the Past as homebrew for Psychs. They're good changes and it becomes actually worth it to try full classing, even if the start is painful. At base there is literally zero reason; Vortex of Destruction is a godawful skill no one should ever saddle themselves with, and I am sorry for anyone that has.
As to why it's possibly a bad idea, that's really going to vary heavily. It's mostly that giving people things of that nature necessarily increase the possible combinations for PCs. If no one has a single idea what they're doing or - better yet - do know and deliberately avoid trying to game things, it's fine. One part and quite possibly only a single starting skill aren't huge.

It's just that Nechronica's easy to break, intentionally or accidentally. Psyche as an additional subclass is one further axis through which that might happen. I don't know exactly how it'd be done, it's simply something worth considering if you want to worry about maintaining balance.
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The water of life has embalmed and raided a mockery of it.

Karma and memory fragments already kinda serve that purpose.

>Why would giving them a second subclass be a bad idea?

Because it's a free skillset that you give up nothing for. For inexperienced GMs, balancing fights against growing favor totals can be tough without all the PCs having an extra set of skill.

As for
>Building Psychedelics
It depends on if you're using the Blast from the Past fanwork or not. For normal Psyche, you have three worthwhile skills: Pawn's Gambit, Throne of the Void, and Twist of Fate. The important thing is to take a class that can do its thing without another class synergizing with it, which makes Baroques, requiems, and Stacies the best choice to pair with . Meatsnake with Throne of the Void backing it up is terrifying, requiems can stop enemies from ever threatening them at Range 0 with pawn's gambit, and Stacy is just generally useful enough you can find something to make it work. Psychedelics other skills are too costly or too niche to really say much to recommend and the special skill is only ever going to be useful if the GM intentionally sets it up to be so.

For blast from the past, the above combos work for the same reasons, but now Romanesque and Gothic are somewhat better ideas because of the rework it gave them making them more support/control oriented. Still gonna feel the -1 parts but you'll have a decent bag of tricks to throw out. Pure Psyche in blast from the past sucks because of how you're support/hinder/damage timing focused but have only 3 parts to start, and then you get favor. Then it becomes a terrifying force multiplier. Spikes? Throw it on the Thanatos smacking something with a nailbat. Carnage? That somehow seems wrong, but go ahead and use it on your sister because now that's legal. Delight in Corruption you cross classed for? Sure you can use that on the stacy to let her pop meatshield again. It's honestly kind of absurd how Project Thy Will changes how you look at certain parts/skills.
>>72732935 >>72733288 >>72733594

So what do I call this Storytime when I'm putting this thread up on the archive. Short names are better as the description space when submitting a thread for archival has a low character limit.
That'd be the campaign's very name, Gravel.
"Gravel Storytime" it is then.
Thank you.
Based ArchiveAnon, thank you for your service
Archiving good threads with worthwhile OC is up to whatever anons are around.

I just happen to be doing it for this thread and have done it for some of the Nechronica threads with Port Storytime.

Also please remember to upvote archived threads with stuff you enjoy when accessing them on sup/tg/. It helps people find the better threads in the archive.

This thread is up now.
>I just happen to be doing it for this thread and have done it for some of the Nechronica threads with Port Storytime.

Who submitted the rest of them?

Some anon, I don't know. I'm just glad they did.
That's a cool idea, though I'm not sure what Dolls stuck on a starship as travels between systems would actually do.

Really, you'd gloss over or use it as the end phase for. Just like in most games where if you don't have something interesting to do as they travel, you gloss over it.
I feel that with the concept being that the Dolls are the only ones who can operate a space ship due to living humans being unable to survive FTL travel outside of cryosleep, the game should take place aboard the space ship.

I suppose you could just rip off Alien, or have a rival organization infiltrate their Dolls on board to sabotage the ship, which the PCs would have to stop.

An errant misclick ate my previous post as I was whisked away to another board, but now that I've mustered the motivation to type, I can say I'm a player in that game where the PCs serve as crew. The big appeal is less the >Dolls stuck on a starship as travels between systems would actually do< part, which admittedly does get its fair share of screentime, and more the wild sci-fi ideas you can throw dolls at by dint of being able to travel around in search of trouble. Imagination's the limit.

Our latest adventure, for instance, has taken us to a water world where a sea-monster made off with our shuttle just after we disembarked onto an underwater colony's topside landing bay. Once we descended, well, I'll just quote the GM's text on it.

>The city of Del Mar is made up of numerous structures that take their inspiration from jellyfish, complete with tendrils that drift lackadaisically in the ocean currents. You're quite a bit further down than most structures go, but your viewing angle makes it easier to notice that further down, some tendrils reach over and connect to those of other structures. While the storm above does diminish your ability to see the further structures that well, you can still see their lights weakly shining in the distance.

Also fun is the inter-jelly tram system that uses those tendrils as a transportation rollercoaster (complete with old puke stains).

That's not even getting into the one encounter we've had so far, where one PC had to go out and fix colony equipment, then got ambushed by the sea monster. The group suited up to keep the monster from dragging her with its several Tendril horrors to Tartarus, where the mouth resided, so that it could blend her or anyone else unlucky enough to be there with massively damaging area attacks. The win condition was just to be in Limbo or Elysium by the time the airlocks cycled, since there wasn't any killing the monster itself and even destroying its tendrils only made it spawn more.
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I'f someone moves and you rapid, dead on target (or crit) them and manage to destroy the part they are using to move, do they still get to move or does the AP get used up while they don't move?

Wandering around exotic locations and facing unusual fights and thrilling dangers.

Tell me more about the unusual combat conditions you've had.
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I figure this is either a representation of the trauma switch part, or some wird hybrid of a defend part and spirit attack, or defend that also automatically inflicts madness on the attacker.

How would you stat it?
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This is /tg/. Nobody ACTUALLY plays games.
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In this thread. That's untrue.

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