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Total Members Voted: 0

Voting closed: April 07, 2013, 10:34:35 am

[piecewise]

Now that I have a pill of my own blood, take it.

You become rather plump and your skin turns a ruddy red.

How festive.

((I specified in the non-bolder text but removed it in the bold for brevity. The generic soldier has a combat knife, MKII, and a gauss rifle.))

You vs him eh? Now I understand what you're trying to do here, evolutionary programming and such, but the parameters are a bit vague. "Best" is a very subjective thing. I mean, you just blowing up your suit and killing both you and the soldier, for instance, would probably result in a technical victory in less then one second.  And the computer might think thats a pretty good result and just end up giving you a highly efficient suicide squad.

The Fist of God wandered over to the VR machines, where he saw a potential heretic strapped in.  Suddenly, he had an amazing idea (by his standards).

Try and hack into all active VR machines and cause the following pop-up to display, which can only be closed by selecting one of the two options:

Do you sympathize with pagan xenos?
YES
NO

Different things will happen depending on the potential heretics' selections, which Sir Lordpunch will define after this.

Steve electrocutes you.

>Your zeal is enviable but please stop attempting to infiltrate my systems.

Well? What does the AoP do next? The last part of my action was "wait and see what it does". I can't initiate actions against it. My goal here is to A) buy enough time for my sim-teammates to get a clean escape, and B) to redirect its own attacks against it. I need to know what its next attack IS to counter the thing.

Assuming your teammates are away, it could either try to follow them, or it could sit and wait. When an Arbiter is told to guard something, he becomes very counterattack-y so, assuming he doesn't sense you near the thing, he'll wait.

[Nunzillor]

After Iveson stopped twitching, he shouted at the ceiling.

"WHO ARE YOU, voice of green?  You are not God, surely, for He speaks in fiery rainbows accompanied by dueling guitar solos.  Are you a heathen god sent to test me?"

Ask the mysterious electric green voice.

Then, (time permitting) fire up the VR and test using each of Iveson's weapons (force sword, grenades, telescoping spear, throwing combat knife, spiked knuckles, and blaster pistol) on training dummies.  Which are most effective?  Which are least effective?  And which are most dangerous for Iveson?  What's the worse thing that can happen at his skill and stat levels for each?

[Lenglon]

well, um... which one does it do? If it pursues up the elevator shaft I'm going to be amp-pulling things out of the elevator wall to block its path and slow it down. If it sits back and goes back to waiting, then I'll carefully investigate the surrounding environment, looking for a strong power source to try electrocuting it with somehow.

[TheBiggerFish]

"What.  That doesn't even make sense."
((Still fuzz?))

[AbstractTraitorHero]

"What.  That doesn't even make sense."
((Still fuzz?))

hey mycroft want something to drink? Might make you feel better I mean drinking stuff usually makes me feel better.hand mycroft the drink (xenospit) Mind if I give you a look over see if I can fix you.
look mycroft over and try and estimate whether it's temporary and if its not possible ways to fix him

[TheBiggerFish]

Mycroft accidentally drinks some.

[Skullsploder]

So guys, this is where I would post a new character right? Just double checking

EDIT: Ah screw it I'm too excited and I can always move it

Name: Skullsploder I. Havenoklu

Backstory: What happens when a VR addicted 10-year-old's parents die tragically and far away while he's still under? Nothing. The administration couldn't be bothered to identify all the remains in the aftermath of the bombing, and so no one came to take "Skullsploder" out of his life-supported MMO wargaming fantasy. 15 years pass wherein he remains completely motionless, shooting people and healing people as a medic in a free-to-play online grand combat simulator. When his apartment block got condemned, the demolition contractors found a stick-thin, pale thing with wispy hair strapped to a chair with severe damage to his limbs from vermin eating him alive while he remained oblivious. Initially they thought he was dead and evacuated the room because "that shit's nasty." Once they realised he was not dead, the medical crews were called and he was transported to a nearby hospital. He proved to be completely mentally unstable, obsessed with "kill-death ratios," "clans," and "hackers." After fixing the damage to his limbs and making some headway into the muscle atrophy, the hospital turned him over to the relevant authorities for rehabilitation. Due to an administrative typo, he was placed in a home for the criminally insane rather than a home for the clinically insane. When the HMRC called for convicts, he was put into stasis and shipped off to the Paracelsus' Sword's next pickup point. His current official name is a result of being called by nothing but his playertag for 15 years, and answering "I have no clue" when asked for his surname.

Reason assigned to the HMRC: Administrative error, generally being a waste of air.

Spoiler: Attributes 'n stuff (click to show/hide)

STATS
Strength -2
Dexterity -1
Endurance -2
Charisma -2
Mind +2
Fate +2
Intuition 0

SKILLS
Handiwork -2
Conventional +1
Unconventional +1
Exotic -2
Auxiliary -1
Medical +2
Gen. Knowledge -2

[Dutrius]

((-2 Endurance? Oh dear... Chances are you won't last long, I'm afraid.))

[Parisbre56]

((-2 Endurance? Oh dear... Chances are you won't last long, I'm afraid.))

((Let the guy play however he wants. If he plays well, uses his strengths and avoids his weaknesses (and gets lucky), then the -2 won't matter. After all, choices and luck is a very big part of the game.))

[Beirus]

((-2 Endurance? Oh dear... Chances are you won't last long, I'm afraid.))

((Let the guy play however he wants. If he plays well, uses his strengths and avoids his weaknesses (and gets lucky), then the -2 won't matter. After all, choices and luck is a very big part of the game.))

((And hiding behind bigger teammates with more Endurance and/or armor/fattlesuits. That's a big part of the game too.))

[FunVake]

Name: Tablerace Wan
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6 Ft tall exactly. Caucasian, lean musculature. Hairless. Plain, peasant's face. Iris colour, blue. Dentition, perfect. Distinguishing mark, tattoo on right breast reading, [Eerste/Adam]

Personal information: Near total amnesia. Fluent in a Dutch-like language believed dead for centuries, speaks in English with a broken syntax. Shows little to no memory of human contact/history. Has a strong sense of duty, but to what exactly, is unknown.
Reason assigned to HMRC OR Reason to join ARM: HMRC Criminal: Illegal existence.

Stats
Strength: 0
Dexterity: +1
Endurance: +1
Charisma: -2
Mind: 0
Fate: 0
Intuition: 0

Skills
Handiwork: +1
Conventional Weapons: +1
Unconventional Weapons: -1
Exotic weapons: 0
Auxiliary systems: 0
Medical tech: 0
General Knowledge: -1

Profession: Conscript

Edit: changed Personal info slightly, just changed english/Common fluency.

[FunVake]

((I presume that I have been issued with MCP-I 'armour' and am on the Sword))

I walk to the nearest person I see and ask

"Where am I? I have a gun needing."

[Nunzillor]

Lordpunch grins widely at the man and claps him on the shoulder.  Hard.  "Welcome!  Welcome to the HMRC!  In this organization we seek to turn heretic xenos to the side of God or, failing that, send them to meet their pagan god pretenders.  My name is Iveson Lordpunch, and it is very nice to make your acquaintance."

Iveson watched this man closely as he asked him a very consequential question.  "Now, son, I must ask you something very important.  Consider it carefully.  Are you a heretic?  Heretics don't get to have guns." Or heads, he thought.

[FunVake]

Bewildered, Tablerace translated the words the imposing figure had said to him.

"Ek is-...I am faithful."

[Nunzillor]

"Pleased to hear it!  Now, you can get your gun from the potential heretic behind the counter over there," Iveson said, pointing in the direction of the armory.  "Let me know if you can get inside there, because that man is due a beating.  For refusing goods to the Fist of God, you see."

"I'm just kidding, don't worry about that," he lied.