October 10, 2015

New line of thinking

So I am beginning to work on roleplaying once again, and I have decided to build my own world with my own rules so there is no way my players can know more than I do.  But I have decided I do not want them to be locals.  As such I have spent the better part of the day working on a story that I hope to continue writing as the game goes on.

Please take a few minutes to read this and either post or privately send me feedback, what you like, what you don't, and most importantly I need help on making sure that it is flowing nicely.  It goes without saying that my Orks are going to be a big part of this, being the mutants mentioned in the opening story here.  In fact, other than the chaos marines, I have a part for each of my 40K miniatures.

So here is the opening story the cast will hear.


Thunder boomed across a cloudless sky, drawing the eyes of the locals to the heavens. Their world darkened as the fiery wreckage of a gigantic space craft passed overhead. An unnatural shower began to drop from the atmospheric changes the vehicle created, the first precipitation in the desert for over a decade. The inhabitants ran for cover as the acidic rainfall of chemical fuel burnt holes into clothing and skin.

Adrian Corporation’s colonial transport Anubis came apart as it fell out of orbit. Several of the factory ships released before the main ship entered the atmosphere, automatic rockets thrusting them into a low stationary orbit. Along with the factory ships, the planetary communications hub also found itself in low orbit, stat-net satellites shooting from it at regular intervals. Those few clever enough to reach one of these vessels, found themselves trapped aboard them, the shuttles meant to ferry crew and supplies back and forth, burning up aboard Anubis.

Base craft and Cryo-Saviors littered the sky in the last minutes of the ships decent to the planet. Most crewmen who were unable to reach the Saviors in time were lucky enough to die as the atmosphere dissolved around them. Many that remained died screaming in agony as the fires of re-entry seared their flesh.

The drill head tips of the Savior pods spun up before they even reached the planet’s surface, preparing to bore deep into the core. Adrian Corporation had created their pods to dig deep, protecting the contents until rescue parties could be dispatched. Several pods landed wrong, the augers finding no earth to make purchase.

The Base craft fanned out, spreading themselves as far as their after burners allowed within the atmosphere. These were as large as football fields, each meant to be the governing hubs of the new colony. Stuffed with building materials, technology, weapons and supplies, they were the cities waiting to be assembled. To the local abandoned on this rock, they were gold mines.

Engines revved and dust shot up in plumes behind the custom built trucks and buggies of the local scavengers. They rushed to the pods and larger pieces of debris, knowing the value of any metal scrap unfortunate enough to find this world. But the scrap paled in comparison to the cache of goods that would be stored along with the colonists jettisoned from the dying vessel.

As they slept in stasis, the population meant for Rodiren had no clue of the fate that awaited them. Many passengers of the Cryo-Saviors lucky enough to be found by the scavengers died painlessly in their frozen slumber, taking a knife to the skull, neck or heart. Those found by wandering bands of mutants fared far worse. Yanked back into consciousness as the mutated cannibals ripped into their flesh, their screams and sobs were lost on the creatures that consumed them.

January 20, 2015

The Agency: A spycraft 2.0 RPG

Redemption Corps

test

"Your family thinks you are dead. Your friends think you are dead. As far as the known world understands, you are dead. As a member of The Agency, your life before today no longer exist. You, no longer exist. You are a number, a statistic in a series of terrible accidents. You are above the law, beyond it. You answer only to me.

I am Angel, and I will be your caretaker. You are a hand picked member of Unit 8. From this moment on you are the eyes, ears, and fist of those too weak or scared to fend for themselves. You have been given a second chance, and a reason to live that far outshines your miserable life before.
Contact with your old life will lead to your… dismissal from The Agency. Any attempts at subterfuge will result in your immediate dismissal from The Agency. You have been given this new lease for a reason, and that is your soul purpose from here out.
This does not mean you are a prisoner though. You will recieve a paycheck, free time, and are under no obligation to stay in this compound. Should you wish it, an identity can be provided for you to mingle with the populace. Now take the rest of the day to get used to your surroundings, your new compatriots and your new mission in life. Tomorrow will be an entirely new world for you."

My opening speech for the role-playing game my son, daughter, friends and I are about to start tomorrow evening.  I am looking forward to running it and just hope it won't be too boring.  I have a few good plans in the make and some plot twists that are sure to get them aggravated, but isn't that the way spy games should be played.

I've been busy the last few weeks rearranging the garage to make it into a suitable game room.  I purchased a couple of posters, remounted my swords, and added a little general atmosphere to the room.  Right now Ray is running Mutants and Masterminds on Tuesday with several of his friends, and as of tomorrow I will be doing a regular Wednesday night Spycraft 2.0 group.

Saturday night we had friends from out of town over and played a rather enjoyable round of Red Dragon Inn, followed by a couple of games of Imagine Iff.  Both were a lot of fun and were not too difficult to play even with the amount of alcohol on the table.

Red Dragon Inn is a drinking game set around a party of fantasy adventurers.  Each player has a personal deck of cards they draw from in an attempt to get the other players drunk enough to pass out, or broke so the innkeeper kicks them out.  The last person at the table is proclaimed the winner, and if the bar wench didn't take it all for tips, might even have a pretty penny.  This is a game I would definitely play over and over.

Imagine Iff is a game of trying to figure out how everybody else would answer the question.  You are asked a question with a series of up to 8 answers.  Each player chooses the best number card for their answer and majority moves up the board.  It is an interesting game, one I would consider an ice breaker.

Wargaming I still have not done much.  I am in the middle of assembling Mega Nobz and a second unit of Killa Kans.  I refelted the game table, but ran into an issue that my old felt was for a 6 foot table and I rebuilt the table to be 8 foot, so 2 feet are exposed plywood.  I am thinking about getting a dry erase mat to glue onto the last 2 feet.

I have not painted since my last post, so yeah, September was really the last time Orktopiagot any kind of love.  But with the garage in good shape I'm really expecting the tides to turn on this.  I have space, I am slowly finding time, and I have a want to get back into everything.

That's it for the moment, until next transmission...