Drhoz

On Sacgrave, and getting permission from Cassius to acquire a guide, and tech support. Naturally, Jrska is doing the selecting. For a guide, she looks around for any obvious tourists - the one in somewhat singed Imperial finery - silk cravat, lace collar, long embroidered coat, and, of course, giant shoulderpads - looks ideal. Jrska: Ah, the Imperium of Man, where your importance is determined by the size of your shoulder-pads, and how much you cut off your own field of vision. No doubt the Emperor went around in a giant sombrero and blindfold. Aladar van Rijn, it turns out, is a Rogue Trader who barely escaped with his skin when the authorities discovered his growing interest in forbidden commodities. He lost his entire fleet in the subsequent battle, and then his flagship when he fled to the Vortex and crashed on Sacgrave. Jrska has of course chosen him because he looks naive. She's right, but he swallows her flattery so completely that she starts to doubt her own judgement - maybe he really IS competent. Jrska: After all, he goes around dressed like that and he hasn't been accosted yet. Maybe he actually can look after himself. Aladar's choice of a showy ceremonial sword in a universe where half the noteworthy people carry power weapons may be evidence to the contrary. The nearest itinerant Heretek is easy to recruit as well, even if he refuses to give his name. Jrska: Hi there cogboy, how would you like your very own starship engine to fondle? Jrska: Just a cog in the great machine... Cog: Not any more. Of course, there's still the need to find the thousands of crew the Chains of Judgement will need. True, there's the cannibal tribe and their leader, Mother, but who is the mysterious Father? Jrska: Does it really matter? There's probably a whole lineage. There's Great-Uncle, who rules the aft engine compartments... And Auntie Prunella. Nobody talk about her. Nobody. Ensuring Aladar and Cog's loyalty - to herself - and simultaneously making herself indispensable to Cassius. Jrska: Lord Cassius is supremely generous to those who pledge their loyalty to him. Of course, he demands the very best from his minions, and it is my duty to ensure that you do not waste his time. So impress me and I'll put in the good word. Cassius' player: .... Wow. Off to one of the many wrecks on Sacgrave, where we have been told the Tyrant's Cord may be found. Things to avoid en route - the many Dark Eldar amusing themselves at the fighting pits, buying slaves, etc, and the mutant inhabitants of the ruins beyond the settlement. Although the latter may be useful as material components of Cassius' prognostications. Jrska: Try not to attract their attention. Cog: Don't piss off the Dark Eldar. Cassius: Good advice for any Eldar. Jrska: Well, the Light Eldar are less likely to torture you to death. GM: ... Perhaps. Jrska: The Light Eldar will kill you. The Dark Eldar will kill you - eventually. Jrska: Hello mutants! Small, poorly defended party here! Easy pickings! Somewhat suspiciously, Garath's crashed ship has not been stripped and salvaged yet. That might be because the shipyards of Q'sal are infamous for welding technology and demonology. Jrska: Imperial ships run on AC. Q'sal ships run on DC - Demon Current. Most of the crew appear to have survived the crash - and then, annoyingly, something went through the survivors like a chainsword through soft cheese. This something included at least one space marine, judging by the assorted human wreckage. We'll have to go back to the Whispering Halls, to see if anybody saw the thieves returning. And, of course, to eat, socialise, drink, etc. Me: This being the Imperium, the potato is probably extinct and replaced by the Vampire Squash Cog: Has anything big and nasty arrived recently? Jrska: Apart from Rold Dundee? Somewhat frustratingly, everybody seems too scared of retribution to identify the perps we're pursuing. Not unreasonable of them, so Jrska reasonably resorts to dragging a random pedestrian into an alleyway and torturing the information out of them. It's not much, but the antagonists include TWO space marines, a heretek, and a witch. Jrska turns the victim loose, still mostly intact. Jrska: Don't worry about that, it'll work its way out in a couple of days. The local liege promises us information if we deal with a small mutant problem he's having. Cassius' solution is to offer them employment, and eventual revenge. Jrksa checks off one item in her Corrupt Cassius mental checklist - Recruit Mutant Army. The liege does not, in fact, have much useful information - earning him a place at the top of Cassius' own mental list of People More Useful Dead - but a poke around the slave markets does turn up a few survivors of Garath's crew, going cheap due to their sorry state. They're reluctant to have anything to do with us or their attackers, but Jrska talks them around. Jrska : I'm sure you'll be useful to my Master one way another - perhaps in his rituals. As intended, they assume she means human sacrifice, and suddenly fall over themselves to be helpful. All Cassius actually needs are names to focus his precognition. Cassius: I'm not about unnecessary cruelty. Cog: You said that with a straight face. I'm impressed. Cassius enacts his divinations, and Jrska is targeted by a Dark Eldar looking for someone to humiliate. GM: As long as you keep grovelling, he's going to keep demeaning you. Jrska: Don't knock it til you've tried it, sweety. Jrska keeps the Eldar distracted by a fine display of cringing, long enough for Aladar to figure out what she's doing, and shoot the alien in the back of the head. Of course, since his choice of weapon is a pretty, but pretty feeble , laspistol, the ensuing melee comes as something of a surprise. Nonetheless, they triumph, and the Eldar's Agoniser sword and Lacerator pistol are claimed as trophies. Jrska: *giving Aladar her very best leer* Remind me to show you how grateful I am, later. Aladar van Rijn: 8-( And off to the Vaults, in the hope of getting ahead of our enemies and setting up a high explosive ambush. Aladar's experience as a starship commander proves unhelpful. Me: Despite them both being dark, you can't use 'Navigation : Space' underground

A potential player learns the difference between Dark Heresy, where you play Inquisitorial acolytes, and Black Crusade, where you can play Chaos Marines, rogue psykers, cultists, traitors, aliens, mad scientists, etc. "But isn't 40K RP all about being hyper-puritanical space investigators that don't get to have any f... Oh..I like."

The Imperial prison transport, Chains of Judgement, so recently 'liberated', is now safely ensconced within the Screaming Vortex warp storm, for certain definitions of 'safe'. Deviant Slaanesh cultist Jrskalooks forward to showing her new allies around the place - she grew up there, after all. But perhaps she'll relax with some of her unholy tomes first. Rold Dundee: The 'Twilight' series Jrska: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays' Jrska: We could also watch some old vids... Pacific Rimjob... Bender's Game... Girl With A Pearl Necklace... 9 1/2 Wanks GM: Saving Ryan's Privates Jrska: 'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation. All: .... Jrska: 'Han shot first' All: *headdesk* Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish. Jrska: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal. *waits in vain for a response from the others* Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake. Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us). Mutant Navigator : How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp? Rold Dundee: Gellar field. Jrska: Stasis tanks are good for that too. GM: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy. Unnamed Mutant Navigator : Names are unimportant. All: *Applaud the GM* Rold Dundee's player: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.' Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine. Jrska: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing. The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement. Cassius: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate. Me: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial. Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway. How to make PCs paranoid. GM: One of the lighters is strangely untouched. Cassius: Then let us not marr its pristine condition. Jrska: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them. Jrska: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle. Cassius: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it. The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond. Jrska: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage! Rold Dundee: But he doesn't have any. Jrska: Just pick up something and carry that. Jrska: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy. Rold Dundee OOC: What prophecy? Jrska OOC: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there is. Cassius : I need crew for my ship. Garath, with suspicious innocence: Oh? Jrska OOC: *sigh* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers? Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language. Jrska: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals? Real Life: *Lights fade out ominously* The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time! Jrska: *singing* I do shock my fellow gamers at one point. They've known me for years, and I don't think they ever realised how manipulative I can be when I put my mind to it. Me: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which you can use to better serve Lord Cassius. Other players: *Eyes bug out* Me: Slaanesh cultist - it's all social manipulation. Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment Mercenaries : Yeah, but will you pay us? Cassius: All the loot you can carry. Dundee's player: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based' Jrska: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to. Cassius: For which we are grateful

Was reading the Merchant Princes books by Charles Stross. If a group in one alternate had reliable slider tech, they would completely dominate the drug and smuggling trade in a neighbouring reality. Need a tonne of high grade concaine shipped from Columbia to Chicago? Not a problem! Let us slide it sideways, ship it, and slide it back again. And if the other world figured this out, they'd still be hugely vulnerable to somebody sliding nuclear weapons into the White House, for example.

Sounds Mystic - right up Vitus's alley. Of course, he'd be highly paranoid about it, even if a likely comment "Well, it's not like my luck could get any worse. What's it going to do, leave me stuck on Earth?" before cursing his overly detailed imagination and all the ways it COULD be worse. Think about it for a while and start coming up with ways to usefully abuse the effect - even every other night of random patrols going right for once would be a big improvement. And on a very lucky night he might discover some of the spells he needs by chance. Of course, he wouldn't be stupid enough to *test* these spells until a later night, when he'd already demonstrated that the good luck was in effect again. Jrska would be even more suspicious - sounds like a Tzeentch item. Her inclinations are Slaneeshi. On the other hand, passing it along to her rival in the warband would be amusing, from a distance. Having a precog in the party invites horrible abuse of the item, too.

My Laundry RPG event from Swancon, back in Easter. I just used the characters from the game book - they're a good spread, and I was a little rushed before the con to prepare anything special. In the end I had to throw in a few of the main characters from the novels (they chose Pinky, and the Police Detective from Concrete Jungle), because I had so many people eager for a go. One of the players was actually from Milton Keynes, which was nice Milton Keynes, after the thing with the cows. A cushy placement for Laundry operatives that would rather keep out of trouble - no Grand Nodes, no Class Three phenomena, no cults or buried alien cities or visitations from other galactic globules. Nothing apart from the imminent extermination of all life on Earth, that is. The Laundry : Protecting the Earth from the Scum of the Multiverse The PCs were in Milton Keynes cleaning up after the mess described in The Concrete Jungle. Not that many of them were cleared for the full details, but they did know that somebody at the Q-Division R&D centre in Milton Keynes had gone nuts, killed all his co-workers, and been dealt with when he went to the main office in London. The local police liason knew more, and still went a bit tense whenever somebody mentioned security cameras. It wasn't likely that anything had escaped from R&D, but since Human Resources didn't want the PCs to think this was a complete holiday, they asked them to check out a local geek, who Predictive Branch had flagged as a person of possible interest. This individual turned out to be most definite interest, since there were Class Two Detection Wards up around his flat. And his recent web history turned up an unhealthy interest in undeciphered ancient languages. The way he answered the door with an eyepatch on certainly made them nervous, after some of the PCs' experience with Basilisk Guns, and a brief episode of police violence later they discovered that things were far worse then they'd imagined - they had a Aklo outbreak on their hands. Aklo, as BLACK SABOATH clearance revealed, was a fractal memeplex, an information virus, apparently optimised to infect humans via the visual cortex, and then unfold to occupy more and more of the host's mind, and like natural viruses imposing behavioural control to ensure it's rapid propagation. One of those behaviours was 'Spread the Virus', and the other 'Assemble and Open a Gate to the Outside'. Happily for humanity, the virus was far more virulent that it would optimally be, and victims usually died long before they could carve out the woodcuts for an Aklo lexicon. Of course, that was before the Age of Mass Communication. The target geek had been preparing an animated Aklo GIF to upload onto the BBC website. This, incidentally, wouldn't have worked, since the Laundry and other similar organisations keep a close lookout for that sort of crap, but the PCs still needed to track down Patient Zero and anybody he might have infected, before the government had to impose extreme measures - after all, the last Aklo outbreak was in Dresden at the end of the Second World War. "I don't want to have to nuke a major UK city!" "Milton Keynes is not a major UK city." The search went quite well, despite Patient Zero being a Typhoid Mary - he was born without a Corpus Callosum, so the Aklo infection couldn't unfold normally - and Pinky didn't get to upload SCORPION STARE into a soccer stadium's security cameras, but they did inadvertently blow up a house, and the Artist's Rifles did have to use CS gas on crowded of panicky civilians. It could have ended MUCH more badly

One of the conversations from the short Freebooterz campaign, where all the PCs were Orks, and some had NPC Minderz (Git One and Git Two, as they were named) Zoggit the Weirdboy: Right! You're Git One! An' You're Git Two! Git One: Er... how iz we supposed ta remember dat den? Zoggit: I dunno, write it on ya fore'ed or sumfin. Git Two: Wot... like I write Git Two on 'IS forehead, so I can tell who I am? I can't see me own forehead, boss. Zoggit: Er.. wait.. I dunno! Shut ya gob! Yerz givin' me a headache! All: *Carefully backing away - Ork Psykers being dangerously explosive* After a successful coup, the new Warboss decides the band will be run by himself and his three most intimidating Boyz - i.e. the PCs. Random Ork: Er.. so which one a yooze tells us what ta do den? Warboss: We all do, ya git. It's gonna be like 'aving four bosses, gottit? Random Ork: Wot... like... one big Ork with four 'eads, or sumfin'? Mad Dok Madison: *eyes light up with unholy glee* Aha! AHA!AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! Warboss: No! Down! Down! *spritzes the demented Painboy with water, clips him with rolled up newspaper, etc, before he gets too carried away with this idea* One boring rainy afternoon on the planet Pittstop Git One: I waz wonderin'... I waz wonderin'... where da humies come from, anyway? Warboss: Humies come from da planet Terra. Git: Da planet Terra. Terra. Dat sounds ded scary. How comes we don't come from da planet Terra? Warboss: Coz we're Orks. Humies come from Terra, dat's why dere scared all da time. Git: Urr. Why's dat den? Mad Dok Madison: Because they're got little bits of their planet in their blood, old boy. Just like we have little proper Orky planets in ours. Git: Nah, dat's stupid, I dun 'av no little planets in me blood. Mad Dok Madison: Of course you do, old boy. I can show you if you like... *holds up a chain-scalpel* Git: *goes pale* Dat's alright, Dok, I'll believe ya. Little planets in me blood, sure fing. ... But dat's not wot I meant, anyway. Where duz Humies come from? I mean, I came up near a cabbage patch... is dat why I'm green? Duz humies sprout near carrots? Dere kinda orange. And why duz humies 'av dem two kinda humies anyway? I mean, sum of dem 'av dangly bitz, and some of dem 'av wobbly bitz. Do sum of dem big ones have both, doh. Warboss: *Putting an end to this useless philosophy* Ya's green cuz ya Orky. An' stop wiv all da finkin. I do tha finkin' round 'ere. Git: Gotcha, Boss. Cabbages is more Orky den carrots.

Been ages since I've even visited the forums here - the new layout still anmnoys me excessively - but the problem of my long absence has been exacerbated by the collapse of my Cthulhu campaign, and being far too busy for gaming most weeks anyway, let along gaming and transcribing quotes Nonetheless, did start another Warhammer 40K campaign a few weeks back - but this time we're playing the bad guys. The characters - Cassius, a Space Marine formerly of the Storm Crows chapter, who realised that the Imperium is doomed, that the Lords of Terra have betrayed the Emperor's vision of an entirely secular humanity, and thathis entire life has been built on a lie. Despite the fact that the next few hours will see him getting advice from mutants and assistance from rogue psykers, and making deals with demons, still denies he's fallen to Chaos. Naturally, the rest of us find this hilarious. Rold Dundee, escapee from the prison world of St Annand's Penance (the player wanted a world like Australia - since St Annand is a desert inhabited solely by convicts, deadly reptiles, and venomous insects, I thought it counted). Out for revenge. Since he's spent the last 200 years in astasis cage in an Inquisitorial ship, the trail might be a tad cold. Me: Somehow I can picture a scene that goes "That's not a daemon weapon, THIS is a daemon weapon" Kastalla, a rogue Psyker, who is determined to live forever by killing anything that threatens her. This, too, is hilarious. Jrska, hyena-headed beastwoman mutant, native of the Screaming Vortex warp storm, and enthusiastic devotee of the Lord of Excess and Pleasure, Slaneesh. Played by yours truly, and oh my it's going to be fun. Waking up in the deep holds of the Imperial ship, when the power to the stasis cages finally runs out. By the looks of things some kind of riot broke out, most of the inmates were incinerated in their cells, and we got lucky. It also sounds like the ship in dead in space. While Cassius interrogates the servo-skulls, Jrska finds a bit of debris to run along the bars, as she sings. Jrska: *singing* "Nobody knows the trouble I've been" Cassius is less than impressed by the company he's keeping when he wakes up. Cassius: Wonderful. A degenerate, a witch, and a convict. Jrska takes it all in stride, on the other hand, and is careful not to antagonise the Space Marine. After all, he could be a useful barricade between her and whatever antagonists lurk on the derelict ship. Jrska is also entirely comfortable with the fact that she and the other inmates are stark naked - more then comfortable in fact, when she sees Cassius's posthuman gengineered physique. Then she sees the other result of his engineering - chem-gelding. Jrska: What a waste. Well, I suppose that's what happens when you use all those steroids... Cassius OOC: Well, maybe I'll get a mutation to fix it. Kastalla OOC: Now we know why Horus fell to Chaos Cassius OOC: 'I'll finally be able to get some' Shortly thereafter, we encounter three scavengers who dare contest Cassius's ownership of the power armour they're dragging out of one of the interrogation labs. Jrska picks a suitable ledge to perch on and watch the show, and comments to Kastalla and Dundee Jrska:This is why I need some kind of automated popcorn dispenser following me around. Everybody else's equipment is in the interrogation lab too, including Jrska's neural whip (lovingly run across her hands, the metal barbs tickling delightfully), her venomous pet Thing (part standard poodle, part Gila Monster), and her backpack full of Hallucinogen Grenades. Jrska: *offering a handful to Cassius* Party favour? There are, naturally, elevated walkways aboard the ship. Jrska: *sings*... do my little turn on the catwalk... Finding and going through the prisoner records, security keys, identity lanyards, etc. Jrska collects many of the latter as accessories, while the others get on with the business at hand. Jrska: Did they get my good side? Rold Dundee: Do you even have a good side? Jrska: Of course I do! See? Nice backside too. *leer* Jrska: Who's a good Thing. Who's a good Thing. You always wanted to be an assistant warden, didn't you? Didn't you? Good boy. Jrska: Thing's bling Bluffing our way past the cannibal tribe, Jrska proves her worth to Cassius. Jrska: Excuse me?! Who do you think we are? Who do you think YOU are? *invading the cannibal's personal space* Even in your wildest dreams, what led you to think you had any say in where we go and who we see? Cannibal: *nervously conferring with colleagues* You may see Mother now. Jrska: Yes, yes we will. Lead the way. Cassius: Now that's useful. Jrska: And what are you doing later? Cannibal: Eating you Jrska: *leers* Oh, yes please. GM: I walked right into that one, didn't I? Rold is a bit uncomfortable with Jrska's uncontrolled lechery. Rold Dundee: There has to be somebody else that looks better, I'm covered in dirt Jrska: Hey, I have been in a stasis cell for two hundred years. A girl has needs. Though there's always Kastalla - I don't mind the scars. After a session with me she'll probably have more - it's not a proper party till someone loses an eye. Jrska: Is that a gun in your hand or are you just here to jerk off? Thing falls in battle, thanks to Kastalla loosing control of her abilities. Jrska: I'll have your ovaries for this, bitch! Jrska: Poor thing... He was such a good beast... The things he could do with his tongue! All: Headdesk Me: I told you you'd regret letting me play a Slaneeshi cultist. Jrska skins a survivor alive with the edge of a power blade, in honour of her lost Thing. And since it's a entire party of evil characters, and Chaos to boot, the pecking-order and backstabbing has already been established. But since we're not stupid, none of us are willing to backstab the others while they're still useful, and if there's any chance they'll survive to retaliate. That doesn't stop a venomous rivalry between Jrska and Kastalla, especially after Kastalla reveals she can be just as manipulative and charismatic as the beastwoman. Kastalla OOC: I've got Radiant Presence too. Jrska: Bitch. Kastalla: Slut. Cassius: Skank. Jrska: *innocently* If we're talking about implanted weaponry, I once knew a man with a Crotch rocket All: Headdesk Eventually, we discover the Inquisitor who captured us welded to the floor and host to a daemon - highly amusing - and we are warned that the ship's head interrogator is himself out of stasis and planning to drop the ship out of Warpspace and signal for help - less amusing. The daemon is going to need a new host body if he is going to assist. One of the cannibals will do nicely. Cassius makes a deal that they will free the daemon and give him a new host, on the condition he swears not to harm the party, and assists with taken down the Interrogator and any surviving Imperial servants. The rest of the cannibals are a little upset at what happens to the one that was volunteered. Cassius: Well, I did promise him power beyond imagination. Interrogator Crane is captured alive, Jrska gets a nice forcefield as reward for her useful efforts, and the deamonhost blown away after it tried to open the Gellar Fields while we were still in Warp. The betrayal WAS a little predictable. Jrska: Thank you, Lord Cassius... *to Dundee* See? You've got to know when to flatter. Cassius: Did anybody NOT see that coming? Jrska: *shrugs* Premature, perhaps. Cassius: It happens - performance anxiety But now we need to nudge the ship into the Screaming Vortex, and away from Imperial retribution - happily, Cassius only needs to eat a few parts of the Interrogator to gain the necessary skill. Jrska gets to work on the naked and securely bound Crane. Jrska: Hello. I need you to answer a question for us - which of your appendages do you value least? Kastalla: *pointing at the obvious* That one. Jrska: Well, obviously, but I'm not going to make Lord Cassius eat that. Crane: Abomination! You will get no answers from me! The God-Emperor will- Jrska: Tongue it is then *slice* . And so into the Screaming Vortex. Jrska: It's good to be home. I really don't know how men can live out there. Having black night skies is so boring - how can they stand to live somewhere where the sky isn't the colour of a poisonous orchid? The derelict ship materialises over a world wracked by perpetual war between Slaneesh and Nurgle. Rold Dundee: The Planet of the STDs We'll have to move fast before the other ships realise the new arrival is actually derelict, but I'm confident we can bluff them. And Jrska's brother, a pirate captain, may well be around somewhere even after two centuries. But that will have to wait until next time. Cassius' player predicts in a few years Cassius will be completely corrupt and treating Jrska like an obedient pet. Me: I think you may be mistaken in who has who well-trained.

Re: "Neat" Pictures

Re: The cranky thread Indeed. Having to wear overalls all day does not help.

Re: Creepy Pics. *nods* horsehair worm

Re: The cranky thread Mother Nature has gifted us with another mid-40sC heatwave, and high humidity on top of that. Heat Exhaustion by mid-afternoon has become the norm.

Re: More space news! Huge Meteor Explodes Over Russia - The shockwave took almost two minutes to reach the ground, and it STILL shattered windows, blew doors out of their frames, and set off every car alarm in the city.

Re: "Neat" Pictures GamOW

Re: The cranky thread Yesterday ended up being a 14 hr shift. With 450km of driving. I was running 7 hours late by the time I finished - at 8PM. I am not happy with whoever booked yesterday's jobs.

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... *nods* The start of the next Deathwatch setting has the Inquisition reviewing footage of similar events from the Rogue Trader game. The tactical analysts can only conclude that the captains of both ships were insane - the Trader were taking his tiny ship in that close, and the cruiser for still managing to lose.

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... I lost four of the six - I'm continuing as best I can, and trying to scrounge up so more players

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... Rather delayed, I know, but I've been busy. The events in Deathwatch : A Murder of Space Marines continue (the two sessions described here a continuation of Weldun as GM), after the team have dealt with the Orks, Eldar, and Logician hereteks infesting the underhive on Temis Minora. Sadly, our local guide caught a Warp Cannon blast to the face. Nakhiel: He might be in a better place. All: ..... GM: Not likely. Thus team Psi Tau Digamma returns in triumph, confident that the Adeptus Biologis will soon be descending on Temis Minora to investigate, dissect, and eliminate these aberrant Orkoids, and the Inquisition to rout out any remaining Logicians. Even so, the final report will make for interesting reading. Tawhaki: File under ‘C’ for Clusterf***. Gilroy MacIan: ...and then we were attacked by Eldar with silly string. Of death. Gilroy MacIan: ...and after that we realised there were still more Eldar and they were still being dicks. Gilroy MacIan: Pick up soulstones. Put in bag. Oh look there warlock going through portal. There big guy, he kill friend - Rargh. Me shake bag at warlock, he make frowny face, me throw on ground. Warlock appear in front of me. Silly silly warlock. Me punch warlock. Warlock think 'me need dodge for flashy axe'. He should have dodged. Heading back up the hive to give the locals the good news, the marines enjoy a quick meal of corpse-starch and dehydrated ponies, and arrive just in time for the Adeptus Mechanicus admin block to explode. Tawhaki: Gunhildr, what did you do? They're not weak, they're AdMech, they have more cybernetics than you. Happily, the explosion seems designed to spray propaganda leaflets, not shrapnel. They read “Terra First! Not Mars!” - heresy, since Terra and Mars are supposed to be equal. Gilroy MacIan: If only I could read! Oh wait, I can! The AdMech promptly send out servitors to collect all the leaflets before anybody can read them. MacIan helps (after the marines all had a look) by eating the one he collected. Regulus: Is there nothing you won’t put in your mouth? Nakhiel: Don't ask. Happily, Temis Minora invests in Universal Literacy, so the pamphlets aren’t a total waste of time. Gilroy MacIan: Something I can believe in! Of course, I also believe in universal claymores, but some people are fuzzy on that. This is all very intriguing, especially when the local AdMech seem more concerned about these Terra First agitators than the fact they have Orks, Eldar, and Logicians in the basement. The team receive orders to investigate, despite the supposed separation of Imperial and Adeptus Mechanicus authority. MacIan is made team leader. Tawhaki: All those head injuries activated your Fellowship Gland, have they MacIan? While we go through the extensive interrogation transcripts of captured agitators – usually rapid confession followed by execution - Team Psi Tau Digamma speculate how much happier the Imperium might be if it offered cupcakes instead of annihilation. That however, leads to the Donutopian Heresy and Forbidden Lore: Cooking. Tawhaki: Iron Chef : Deathwatch Edition. This week’s secret ingredient - Tyranid kidneys! Gilroy MacIan: They need to make female space marines. Hippocrates: They have. GM: No they haven’t, it didn’t work. Hippocrates: I didn’t say it worked. The moustaches were a dead give-away. Gilroy MacIan: What if there are and we just can’t tell? All: .... Gilroy MacIan: Wait... There are chapters that never take their helmets off... All: *eye Telemachus* On the Iron Hands chapter, and their miserable demeanour, and propensity for self-mutilation. Tawhaki: Body Dismorphic Disorder is a sad thing. Gilroy MacIan: It's like an entire society of bulimic people. Tawhaki: That would explain why they go around purging things... Knight Commander Wraith, one of the local feudal authorities, conducted most of the interrogations. It turns out the locals have been arresting, torturing, and executing everybody they can identify as a Terra First activist, and everybody they know, with unseemly speed. Not entirely unexpected, as it’s in his interest to ensure the planet has as little insurrection as possible (although one Inquisitorial report considers Temis’ level of insurrection unhealthily low). But Wraith has hidden files referencing the interrogations, as poking around inside the hive’s data-systems reveals. Wraith is bawling out the Second Company of the Temisian Knights when the marines catch up with him. Gilroy MacIan: Let’s not pants him in front of his men. Nakhiel: No-one mentioned pantsing him! Gilroy MacIan: But now you can’t stop thinking about it, can ye.... Assassin Strike! *yoink* A-ha! Tawhaki: More Dakking is never enough. GM: Dakking is the right of all sentient species. Tawhaki: The Lexicanum MacIan – twelve hundred words for ‘muffin’ and not one for ‘Moderation’ Wraith is clearly perturbed by the Deathwatch interest in the Terra First terrorists – and admits he found the timing of the bomb highly suspicious, not least because he had to recall troops from the underhive in response. It eventuates that he, too, has been finding the behaviour of the local AdMech highly peculiar, and suspects the insurrection arose because the AdMech have seizing various loyal families, for dubious reasons. Martine had been scheduled for pick-up – but only because one of his friends had invented a las-rifle better suited for killing Orks. Another family was taken because they’d devised improved clutch-braking for a tank. And as far as Wraith can determine, not one of these Disappeared were ever actually executed. Perhaps MacIan’s scribe Duncan could be set up as bait. He seems reluctantly agreeable. Tawhaki: Five Angels of Death standing around him, asking if he wants to volunteer for a suicide mission, and you expect him to say no? Nakhiel: I kind of like the idea of just battering the door down. Gilroy MacIan: Fine, we’ll use Duncan as a battering ram. Hippocrates: I’ve got a leg. Wraith is thanked for his time, and he takes his leave – after a curiously specific suggestion that should the team happen to see any of his men near the AdMech facilities, say Knight Captain Pleth, to remind them they have their orders. Hippocrates: We’re just going to get one of these new and improved Leman Russes and drive it through the door – hey, the brakes don’t work! *crash* Gilroy MacIan: Ironyyyyy! Tawhaki: Given this is 40K : The Musical, shall we do Gangnam Style dances down the corridor? Regulus: If five marines did burst into a building and do that, it should give us a bonus to Intimidation. Nakhiel: I have one question – is Gangnam Style heretical? GM: I am now saying it is, just to shut this up Gilroy MacIan OOC: The Inquisition show up ‘This is far too silly, get on with it’ From the name, Tawhaki suspects Pleth to be a minor scion of the Rogue Trader dynasty that rediscovered the Temis system. Tawhaki: He might be quite young. Gilroy MacIan: I swear to god, if he answers the door clutching a stuffed toy... GM: Another thing to wind up Space Wolf players – “Who Let The Dogs Out” Gilroy MacIan OOC: If I was a Space Wolf player I’d be singing it! Tawhaki OOC: Yes, but you’re you. GM: Knight Captain Pleth is young. Young, young. Gilroy MacIan: Testicles descended young? GM: Not quite, but he does rattle a bit in his power armour. Gilroy MacIan OOC: Excuse me young man, is your father at home? Tawhaki OOC: *pulls off Pleth’s helmet and peers down into the torso* Anybody in there? Pleth and his rather more experienced and inscrutable adjutant Drucher (a Damaris Irregular and veteran of the last Logician War, thanks to time dilation) agree that the presence of Logicians is alarming, given Temis Minora’s stringent customs inspections, and have heard a rumour that the hereteks were searching for a Metal Man – the utterly heretical robots from mankind’s Dark Age of Technology. Drucher has also ‘acquired’ technical reports pertaining to the alleged tech-heresy of the disappeared locals. Naturally, Tawhaki and Nakhiel very much want to study these reports, despite a reluctance to be the first to open any doors, after what happened to the guide Martine. It’s tech-heresy, true, but one well within the tolerances of the Priests of Mars. So what are the local Tech-Priests really up to, apart from abducting any promising locals – who are also Imperial citizens – for an unknown purpose? Tawhaki’s player: We should come up with a theme for Duncan. Probably based on “I’d love to have a beer with Duncan”. Of course, I can picture MacIan singing that anyway, but any beer that would get a space marine drunk... GM: Duncan already has a song. Tawhaki’s player: What, “Buttmonkey Of The Group”? GM: It’s a Queen number “I’m Going Slightly Mad” Gilroy MacIan’s player: And Gilroy’s is “Don’t Stop Me Now” As it turns out, the Adeptus Mechanicus themselves also want to know what the [REDACTED] has been going on on Temis Minora, and have sent in their own equivalent of the Inquisition. Happily, the two forces do not come to blows – partially due to the two techmarines being properly respectful of the Tech-priests, partly because the Marines intimidated their way past the underlings. Tawhaki: For the benefit of the record, the tech-priest who let us in is now standing to one side with his fingers in his ears. GM: While muttering an ancient catechism against hearing things that might disturb you. It goes LALALALALA. Gilroy MacIan: Brothers – helmets. Tawhaki: Better to lose the glory bonus but keep our heads. GM: Dammit, I’ve got Queen on the brain now. Tawhaki: Which one? GM: “Don’t Lose Your Head” Tawhaki: That’s the purpose of the Deathwatch – Investigate, and if necessary, stomp into a greasy spot on the ground. Gilroy MacIan: And this is Nakhiel of the... Nakhiel: Brass Knuckles. Gilroy MacIan: Sonic the Hedgehog Clan High-Magos: Sonic Hedgehog? A genetek reference... Magos Haxil, the local AdMech admin that drew all this ire, is AWOL. The High-Magos investigating is happy to let the team deal with the renegade, for political reasons, as long as they take him alive, and shares the information that the missing families are sent to a particular Agri-dome Haxil commandeered. Gilroy MacIan: Load for bear. Tawhaki: What’s a bear, brother? Gilroy MacIan: Very, very, very, very nasty.. Tawhaki: Also extinct. Gilroy MacIan: Ok, also extinct. Tawhaki: Now, octo-bears, they’re dangerous. Tawhaki: Come Brothers, we must Gangnam Style into battle Gilroy MacIan: *sings* Heeeeeeeeeeey, foul xenos! Tawhaki: Op-op-op-op-op Deathwatch Gilroy Style Tawhaki’s player: Even if we ran a campaign at the Dog Star we couldn’t have a serious game. Gilroy MacIan’s player: Black Crusade would be worse... it’d be Black Comedy. Tawhaki’s player: If we did run a Black Crusade game, by the end of six months we’d have taken over the Imperium and installed clowns as Governors on every planet. Gilroy MacIan’s player: That might be an improvement. Nakhiel’s player: Never underestimate the power of a Dark Clown. On the Fenrisian Rabbit, a creature of unnatural speed, ferocity, and innocent appearance. Gilroy MacIan’s player: And it’s also a minion Gilroy can hide in his helmet. BEHOLD! The Arch-Magos knows he is heading to the manufactora, but doesn’t know why – but it may have something to do with the big bottle of Pygmalium he was carrying – a key ingredient in utterly heretical A.I. Very surprising, given that Haxil was a known conservative, and found the level of innovation on Temis Minora disturbing. Happily, most of the marines can get down to the Manufactora levels in a hurry – by jumping down the Hive’s lift shafts. Regulus, MacIan, and Nakhiel have jump packs and grav chutes. Tawhaki just gets the lift. Tawhaki: Is he still Haxil? Nakhiel: Has he been compromised? Gilroy MacIan: Is he wearing underwear? GM: Find out next week, same Bat-time... no wait Tawhaki: They’ll no doubt be very brown underwear when we catch up with him. Gilroy MacIan: Now let’s see who he REALLY is! ‘Ah! My face!’ GM: It’s Old Man Smithers! ‘And I would I have got away with it if it wasn’t for you meddling marines!’ Tawhaki: Now we really do need a Space Wolf in the party... GM: Ruh-roh. Tawhaki: And whenever something frightens the party the Space Wolf leaps into Gilroy’s arms... Tawhaki: You realise I’m going to have to repaint the Thunderhawk green and purple now? Regulus: How long ago did we jump down this lift shaft? Happily, despite the minutes spent chatting during freefall, leaping down the lift shaft cut so much time off the pursuit that the marines reach the Manufactora levels before Magos Haxil has finished doing whatever he’s doing to a Land Raider tank – fitting it with an A.I. so it could go on a rampage to cover his escape. Gilroy MacIan: Regulus! I chose you! Use Impale Attack! Regulus: Regulus! Regulus! Despite protests that he was just there to check for heretical technology, Haxil surrenders pathetically when surrounded by four large and cheerfully confident posthuman thugs. Tawhaki: You can literally see the little mental gears working. Nakhiel: What has he got, a magic eight-ball in there? Gilroy MacIan: ‘Outlook not good’ Haxil pleads that all his actions are because the Temisian locals are sure to fall into tech-heresy if he didn’t brutally suppress them – and plant evidence to convict them. Perhaps the AdMech will agree, and merely reformat parts of his brain. The situation may have ended very differently, had we fought the Arch-Magos and his Myrmidon bodyguards. Tawhaki: But that didn’t happen because we’ve got two techmarines in the party. And it may well have taken much longer to get down to the factory levels – but that didn’t happen because we’ve got two maniacs in the party. And although none of the team are psychic enough to prove it, it seems likely the late Eldar warlock had been exacerbating Haxil’s cognitive malfunction, for his own inscrutable purposes. Tawhaki: And we managed to succeed on the mission without shooting anybody. That always makes the Deathwatch look good. As does dancing Deathwatch Gilroy Style down the corridors.

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... From the sadly defunct Pokemon game that my ex-Cthulhu players went off to play. One PC introduces another: This is Kyle. He punches Pokemon.

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... Well, my first question is whether 'Metal's Doom', a spell he developed that crumbles any metal - including gold - to powder, will work on adamantium.

Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group... Hmm, Vitus detects the stench of intellectual property infringement. But no doubt a few a few compariative applications to suitable test subjects, he'd agree that the similarities between "Testaverde's Testicular Trauma" and "Detonate Scrotum" are co-incidental Now there's an alarming thought - Vitus in the Marvelverse....

Re: "Neat" Pictures A friend on LJ found the source - it has been dubbed "The Flashed Face Distortion Effect" http://mbthompson.com/research/ . They are still looking into the cause.

Re: And now, for your daily dose of cute... The fact that many young mammals have the "Big Head + Big Eyes + Round Features" helps - it's a very strong "this is an infant" trigger that plugs into something very deep in our brains. And that of other mammals that have prolonged care of helpless infants.

Re: "Neat" Pictures

Re: "Neat" Pictures Oh gods... that's horrifying. And a VERY effective example of visual processing in action. At least for me. *shudders*