Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Sean Mirrsen]

The year is... gods, you can't even remember what year it is after last night. Thirty... something. Or forty... blast it. Must've been a hell of an occasion to have drunk so much.. blargh.

You vaguely recall celebrating an event, something you and five of your friends have been planning and saving money for since two years ago. You force yourself to your feet and look around. Five more bodies, in similar states of hung over, litter the floor around you amidst numerous bottles, broken furniture, and combat gear. You try to find a mirror to look at yourself, but there is none. Come to think of it, the room looks strange. You don't remember renting an apartment with great big plasma conduits built into the walls. Slowly you stagger out through the nearest doorframe, and blunder through a long corridor, finding yourself in a room. A room with a downright unhealthy amount of pressable buttons, arrayed under several very much large screens, each showing nothing but the starry blackness of space. An electronic-sounding voice speaks out from nowhere in particular.

  "This automated control unit welcomes its newly registered owners. There is one message pending.

  The port authorities of Deneb Kaitos would like to remind that you still need to receive and sign transferrance papers, as well as your license. Simply hopping aboard, shooting compression lasers into the air and shouting, quote, "HAW YE MATEYS LET 'ER RIP!", end quote, does not comply with standard port departure and license assignment procedures. They would like to see you, your crew, and your ship, back in port at your earliest convenience, or else they will, quote, "blow ya sorry ass out of orbit an' tow ya carcass back themselves", end quote.
 
  This automated control unit recommends its newly registered owners to comply with above request. Coordinates for the Deneb Kaitos Whaling Port laid in."
   
  You blink.
 
  "Oh."
 
   
  Welcome, everyone, to the Space Whaling Adventure RTD.
 
  I'm not sure it's actually ready yet, give me some time to get a few final things straightened out. But you can already sign up. We'll try to hammer issues out as we go along.
 

Spoiler: Starting Information (click to show/hide)

  To enlist into the crew, submit a character sheet:
    > Name:
  > Appearance:
   Stats: (Distribute 30 points)
  > Strength:
  > Agility:
  > Toughness:
  > Intelligence:
   Skills: (Distribute 20 points)
  > Weaponry:
  > Piloting:
  > Technical skill:
  > Medical skill:
 
  > System Bonus: (see below)[/s] - No longer applies.
 
  This game uses Progressive RTD rules for rolls, which means your stat or skill value determines the size of the die rolled for it.[spoiler=Roll Progression Table][Value]:Roll results in order
  -----
  [1]: Epic Fail
  [2]: EF, Fail
  [3]: EF, F, Half Success
  [4]: EF, F, HS, Success
  [5]: EF, F, HS, S, Overshot
  [6]: EF, F, HS, S, Perfect Success, OS
 
  [7] and above: EF, F, HS, S,.., S, PS, OS

  Bonuses add die size rather than change final result.
 
  Six players will start the game. Everyone else, should there be anyone else, go into the waiting list.
 
  Now, the ship you start with is actually a little underdeveloped, with room to improve, and you have money to spare. It has six systems. They are Control, Propulsion, Communications, Sensors, Processing, and Storage.
 

• Control is the AI that runs the ship whenever you can't be assed to, like fending off a horde of betentacled glowing monstrosities.
• Propulsion is what moves you in space, evading, chasing, or tearing free from the aforementioned betentacled monstrosities.
• Communications is what allows you to call for help, either to tow an exceptionally big carcass, or bail your sorry ass out of a pinch. You can also get whale extermination requests.
• Sensors is what finds you some space whales randomly floating around the universe. The better the sensor, the better the whales it detects - and the less chance of reporting a betentacled monstrosity as small fry.
• Processing is what grinds betentacled monstrosities into sellable meat. The better, the higher quality meat it can process.
• Storage defines your hold's size, no fancy rolls here. Used both for meat and for extra stuff, such as piloted armor and fancy fighters.

 
  All systems start at value [6]. If you are one of the first six to apply, select a system to permanently assign a +1 bonus to. You'll start buying things like weapons and gear once the players are all up.(no longer applies)[/spoiler]

  Bear in mind, all rules and things may be subject to change as the game finds its balance, but let's see if it actually works first.

  Also seeking replacement GMs, just in case. Me is terrible at running two games at once. -_-

Player list:
Anailater as Dr. Bruce Thomson
Borno as Mr.Lime Johnson
Lawastooshort as Colonel Yirkut
Pufferfish as Jak Spades, fighting man
Scapheap as Clair Cherry
Yoink as Nicholas "Scoot" Cirrussi, legless pilot


Waitlist:
Penguinofhonor
Unholy_Pariah
Persus13
Xantalos

Dwarmin as potential backup GM

[Yoink]

Name:  Nicholas "Scoot" Cirrussi
Appearance: Short, wiry and lacking legs below the knees, Scoot has the look, voice and smell of a seasoned drunkard.
He has leathery skin, lop-sided light blue eyes (the left one is a bit bigger than the right) and a short mop of greying blond hair. His grin is pretty crooked, too. Wears a stained old blue jumper with something about an old grav-longboarding tournament on the front and a pair of faded denim jeans cut off just above the stumps of his legs. Propels himself around on a rough wooden board with a few castor wheels tacked on.
Used to make a living as the pilot of a cargo ship, but his inner speed freak- always pushing the ship just a bit further than it needed, tinkering with various engines to make them go faster, following televised races of all descriptions- eventually got the better of him when he went full-speed on his way out of a spaceport and crashed into a loading crane, an interstellar cruise ship and a wall, in that order. That incident cost him his legs, his job and his livelihood.
His employers refused to compensate him for his injuries, so "Scoot" took up drinking as heavily as possible on what money he could scrape together, beg or steal. One hazy night later and he ended up here.

Stats...
Strength: 4
Agility:  0
Toughness: 12
Intelligence:   14

Skills...
Weaponry: 0
Piloting: 16
Technical skill:  4
Medical skill: 0 

System Bonus: Propulsion.

[scapheap]

Name:Clair Cherry
Appearance:Brown haired woman with red eyes. Always wearing a bloody lab coat regardless of where she is.
Stats:
Strength:4
Agility:11
Toughness:4
Intelligence:11
Skills:
Weaponry:5
Piloting:0
Technical skill:5
Medical skill:10

System Bonus: Sensors

[Gentlefish]

Count me in.

Spoiler: info (click to show/hide)

  > Name: Jak Spades
  > Appearance: A large brute, he's not the brightest tool in the shed. His many scars attest to his battlefield knowledge. His very short brown buzzcut lies prominently over a distinct forehead, and bright blue eyes bore into anything it sees. But not with curiosity or intellect, more like an intense need to disassemble it in the most spectacular manner with the nearest possible object.
   Stats: (Distribute 30 points)
  > Strength: 10
  > Agility: 9
  > Toughness: 8
  > Intelligence: 3
   Skills: (Distribute 20 points)
  > Weaponry: 10
  > Piloting: 3
  > Technical skill: 2
  > Medical skill: 5
 
  > System Bonus: Control. I sure as hell can't be arsed to deal with it.

Spoiler: I accidenally a bio. (click to show/hide)

 His name a hilarious joke bestowed upon him by his parents, Jak entered the military as soon as he possibly could to get away from his home life. Seeing as he was fourteen and was able to lie about being eighteen, he missed out on much of his education, leaving him about as sharp as a spoon when it comes to higher logic. What knowledge he does know belongs to the human anatomy and how to tear it apart, and in field situations, how to hold it together long enough for a real doctor.

[lawastooshort]

Spoiler: Scrap this one (click to show/hide)

Name: “Doctor” Yirkut.
Appearance: Always dressed in his Siberian fur hat and wearing his holostethoscope around his neck, no one knows if “Doctor” Yirkut is medically trained, actually a doctor, or in fact anything other than a particularly gruff space-drunk, but the last person who questioned his credentials got a black eye and then a rather clumsily carried out splenectomy. Which of course did nothing for the patient’s broken leg.

Under his treasured and almost sentiently filthy hat, Yirkut has a full head of grey to white hair, which matches his perma-stubble and out-dated moustache. He finds the moustache rather dashing. He’s fairly short and squat with a slightly dark red ruddy face. His eyes are pits of bottomless black and his teeth flash a glorious blinding white when he chooses to bless people with a sincere or drunken smile. He never dresses in bright coloured clothing as he claims this kind of thing gives him a terrible headache. He likes to wear big furry boots. On one hip he has a small bag of medical implements – scalpels, mostly – and on the other a bigger bag of medical supplies – drugs, drink, and foul-smelling lichen, for the most part. He is often seen treating himself for some not-entirely obvious affliction. He often then needs to rest but always seems to be up and alert whenever there is a crisis or a fist fight.

He also carries a pair of maracas, which he is quite fond of.
Stats:
 > Strength: 4
 > Agility: 9
 > Toughness: 10
 > Intelligence: 7
Skills:
 > Weaponry: 2
 > Piloting: 1
 > Technical skill: 4
 > Medical skill: 13
 
> System Bonus: Control.

Ah bother, two doctors. Um.

Oh wait double bother. Three kind of doctors.

Well, in case three kind of doctors is too much, I will instead go with:

Spoiler: ”Colonel” Yirkut (click to show/hide)

Name: “Colonel” Yirkut.
Appearance: Always dressed in his Siberian fur hat and wearing his holobinoculars around his neck, no one knows if “Colonel” Yirkut is a colonel, was ever even in the army, or is in fact anything other than a particularly gruff space-drunk, but the last person who questioned his credentials got first one black eye and then another black eye, and then a sharp kick to the groin.

Under his treasured and almost sentiently filthy hat, Yirkut has a full head of grey to white hair, which matches his perma-stubble and out-dated moustache. He finds the moustache rather dashing. He’s fairly short and squat with a slightly dark red ruddy face. His eyes are pits of bottomless black and his teeth flash a glorious blinding white when he chooses to bless people with a sincere or drunken smile. He never dresses in bright coloured clothing as he claims this kind of thing gives him a terrible headache. He likes to wear big furry boots with steel toe caps. He’s normally quite quietly spoken, and a gentlemanly reserved type of person, but he has a fearsome shout and a terrifying warcry. He claims his warcry is merely the imitation of rutting reindeer stags back on the taiga.

Fond of what is apparently a lichen-based snuff, he wears a small bag of it on one hip, and a modified Colt laser revolver on the other. His other treasured possessions include a sturdy space-harpoon, an old harmonica, and an ever-present bottle of some kind of liquor. Although frequently drunk, he always seems to be up and alert whenever there is a crisis or a fist fight and has a secret feeling of responsibility for the safety of those less blessed with overwhelming manliness than he is.
Stats:
 > Strength: 7
 > Agility: 8
 > Toughness: 10
 > Intelligence: 5
Skills:
 > Weaponry: 12
 > Piloting: 1
 > Technical skill: 2
 > Medical skill: 5
 
> System Bonus: Control.

[borno]

> Name: Mr. 'Lime' Johnson
  > Appearance: An average statured man with piercing green eyes that seem to be watching your every move. He wears a lime green suit and tie no matter the circumstances (Even going to bed in a one-zee version of it), hence earning him the nickname 'Lime'. His hair is jet black, and always combed to perfection. Well, apart from today, when he had woke up with his perfect hair-do RUINED.
   Stats:
  > Strength: 1
  > Agility: 1
  > Toughness: 1
  > Intelligence: 27
   Skills:
  > Weaponry: 0
  > Piloting: 0
  > Technical skill: 20
  > Medical skill: 0
 
  > System Bonus: Communication

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As a child, 'Lime' always loved tinkering with all the different things in the apartment he grew up in. He wanted to know exactly how things worked, which lead to a very frustrated mother and several obedience schools. Eventually he was completely transformed; the bright, happy, curious youth now a cold, serious, patient man. He still retains his skills, even getting a job in the Fix it up! ^TM industries, where he lived content as the top technical consultant for many years, before being asked to join the Space Whale hunting group. He accepted reluctantly, thinking that he was only wanted in the group for his skills, which is why he hasn't told anyone his first name yet. Not that he can remember any of this right now, he's got a killer headache and just wants to sit down for a while.

[anailater]

Yes I found it in time!

Spoiler:  Dr. Bruce Thomson (click to show/hide)

> Name: Dr. Bruce Thomson
  > Appearance: Wears red rimmed glasses all the time. Has dark black hair and green eyes, average height and weight.
  Stats:
  > Strength: 5
  > Agility: 5
  > Toughness: 5
  > Intelligence: 15
   Skills: (Distribute 20 points)
  > Weaponry: 5
  > Piloting: 0
  > Technical skill: 5
  > Medical skill: 10
System bonus: Propulsion (For Running Away!)

The doctor is in.
Edit: added system bonus.

[Sean Mirrsen]

So, six reservations are in. Good. The good doctor Bruce forgot a system bonus though.

Anyone signing in after this point may hold off on posting sheets (though do sign up), because the entry process for new crew will be rather... nonstandard.

And in the meantime, this is the rustbucket you'll be flying. I tried to make it at least resemble a whaling ship.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[penguinofhonor]

Crap, I was too slow. Reserving the first waitlist spot!

Spoiler: Sinda Everclear (click to show/hide)

Appearance: Most of the left side of her body is covered in burns as the result of some futurey fiery accident.
Stats:
-Strength: 7
-Agility: 5
-Toughness: 10
-Intelligence: 8
Skills:
-Weaponry: 6
-Piloting: 2
-Technical skill: 8
-Medical skill: 4

Also I'd consider co-running this with someone. I wouldn't want to be the sole GM because it would probably end up second to Mayfly, but I'd definitely help.

[Sean Mirrsen]

Actually, PoH, go ahead and post a sheet. The whole reason I posted this now was to get the first set of players from a set of timezones that'd allow me to run this at work, at least for the first few runs.

I'll throw borno into the waitlist instead. With so few people having weapons experience, this will surely be an interesting run.

Also, try not to forget the systems bonuses people, or I'll throw 'em on at random. :evilgrin:

And just as an aside, a score of 0 in something means you're more useless than a rock in that regard, since the value is the size of the die being rolled. With a 0, you're kinda... SOL.

[borno]

Aww...

[Sean Mirrsen]

Oh, you're still online. o_o

Well... okay then. Pengu can go on the waitlist. Either way, I don't think the roster will stay the same for long. ^_^

[scapheap]

Three doctors oh dear., maybe I should move 5 to weap from tech? Yes I go do that.

[lawastooshort]

Well I just rewrote my doctor into a fighter, so I am open to using either.

Either way, I don't think the roster will stay the same for long. ^_^

lolz, a reason for choosing a doctor... Anyway, I think I will be the brave spaceharpoon-wielding Colonel.

[Mr.Zero]

PTW

"AARR, MAN THE HARPOONS. THE WHITE WHALE IS NEAR"