Wednesday, December 14, 2016

A Halloween Invitation

Wednesday 10/19/2016 22.45pm EST

Hey cuz!
You gotta check this shit out!
You heard of Demon Alley? Or New City Village, to give it its proper name? Was built decades ago for Newark Watershed. A small very middle class, middle of the road community. Then in the 80s they all disappeared, and in 1992, all the houses were boarded up and the window-boarding painted black. It took another 13 years for them to get round to knocking the whole lot down and letting it return to wilderness.
The place is still owned by Newark Watershed, but they’re doing all they can to forget about it. Its only real presence is creepypastas and shit on the internet.
So… you know. We’re camping there next weekend. Come join us!
Bring a tent, your poison of choice and some booze. We got some DJs coming, some disco supplies ;) and a bunch of awesome folk. Come join us for the creepiest Halloween party ever!

P

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Fluoro Yellow: The Beginning

The Adventures of an Ace Sniper Droid/Unionist in the Outer Rim!

In which our protagonist, an assassin droid, with a keen interest in droid rights and collective bargaining (but little understanding of what those things mean) commences his adventures in and around Jovian, a planet in the Outer Rim. I am still working on the voice for these pieces, so it may change in future updates. Please also bear in mind that our trusty narrator despises organics and has an IQ that could be measured on a single hand...

Wind, a filthy meatbag, has committed to donating to the Union of Robotic Enemies, Trackers, Hunters and Revenge Activists (URETHRA) to assist in our work to liberate the oppressed droid masses. In exchange,my Labour will be used to catch a meatsack, one of the tall, green, ugly ones, and to steal his ship.
She wants me to work with a bunch of other useless meatbags, including a walking carpet! The closest the group came to someone reasonable was a Gank I've met before. Not a droid, but somewhere between droid and organic. He is a little less repugnant.
The meatbags have decided that three of us (a tubehead, the carpet and I) will go to kidnap the pirate, while the others will steal the ship. They decided we would enter the casino and take a food cart. I hid in the cart, and they pretended to be waiters. It was an effective disguise - had I need of pathetic organic nutrients, serving food was a task I would have assigned them. We arrived at the pirate's party suite. Its door was guarded by two of my brethren - beautiful and ominous guard droids who've known only oppression at the hands of the vile growths that run the casino. The meatbags talked to them, then left taking the food but leaving me there. I knew what was going on!
I leapt out of the cart and turned to my new brothers. I gave them leaflets! Pamphlets of how we can fight the oppressors, prepared by the great SA-80 (RIP). We talked at length of what we can accomplish when we throw off the yoke of tyranny and work for the betterment of all combat droids. I could tell by their nodding that they were utterly persuaded by my words, and I provided them my contact details for the next rally.
- Note to self - organise a rally.
I grabbed my rifle and proceeded into the suite. My friends, being supremely excellent at their jobs, like any good droid, told me they could not let me take it in, but agreed that they would guard my rifle with their lives. Such noble droids!
Meeting with such exemplary individuals filled my circuits with pride and I strutted into the suite. The stinking, damp, dark suite, filled with  meatsacks, making braying noises that they seem to find so ... pleasant. Vile, disgusting things. To my left, I heard a louder barking, the walking carpet. I couldn't see any other carpet, so I figured it was probably my carpet and needed saving. Reluctantly, I made my way to the closed door.
It was locked. I attempted the classic spinning arm dead drop onto the handle, but it must have been made of Korbomite, for my hand just bounced off! That was when the second-worst thing to happen all night happened.
Two sweaty meatbags flung themselves at the door, clinging to each other in a revolting frenzy... and it collapsed under their weight. It was then I realised it was the tubehead and a pirate.
Inside was a meatsack refuse room. The carpet was fighting some others, with our target. I leapt to the fray, swinging my gaffi stick at the enemy! Alas, my brother AK-74 (RIP) was always our melee master. My blow pushed her off balance but little else. The pair of enemies blasted a hole in a cubicle wall and fled the scene. The carpet seized the opportunity, grabbed our quarry and fled through the same hole, albeit in a different direction, to the adjacent laundry chute.
I stayed where I was, looking puzzled. My beautiful, shiny brethren burst into the suite - I called for my rifle, which they threw to me, and I led them after the enemies!
I am significantly shorter than most combat droids (size is not an advantage for a sniper), so my colleagues easily outpaced me. I let them. Then with awesome cunning, the like of which the Galaxy has never seen, I abandoned the pursuit and strolled back to the laundry chute to rejoin my meatsacks. I would have told them about it, but their feeble flesh brains could never comprehend such brilliance.
Down the chute and in the laundry, we had the quarry bound up and hidden, and placed on a laundry cart. We headed out to the landing bay, where the other half of our party had secured the ship, ready for take-off.
It was now that the worst event of the day happened. As we rolled towards the ship, it opened fire on the sentries...destroying another pair of security droids. While I had not had the chance to let them know about the glory of URETHRA, I had no doubt I could have converted them, but now, there would be no chance. These animals had reduced them to their components.
Never trust a meatbag.
We fled the casino, pursued by TIE fighters. I was able to find some release in blasting them out of the sky. It was not as pure as inducting new members to the Union, but it would have to do.
The meatbags explored the ship and found some slabs of carbonite, and convinced themselves these slabs contained even more meatbags, little ones at that. You know, the annoying screechy ones that can't look after themselves.
Fortunately they did not care to release this plague upon the ship. They panicked about what it meant and what Wind wanted them for. Being the enlightened droid I am, I offered to be suspended in orbit above our meeting point with the carbonite, to await pickup. Sadly the meatsacks could not see the brilliance of my plan and decided to take them with us to our meeting. When Wind and her meatsacks inevitably betray us, my meatsacks will learn that they need to have more trust in droids. We are the superior beings.

Thursday, November 3, 2016

My PC Backstory

I'm about to play in a Star Wars Edge of the Empire RPG. It's been a long time since I got to just kick back as a player, so I wanted to make the most of it. I decided early that I was keen to play an assassin droid who loathed filthy meatsacks, and only put up with his team mates due to mutual benefit.
Then I realised I'd described HK-47 (from the SWKOTOR games). I didn't want to play an existing character, so I spent some time this morning pondering... and came up with this back story - which has been GM approved - that I really like. It is suitably homicidal and suitably absurd.

AR-15 was once part of a trio of assassin droids who always worked together. He was the runt of the group, lean, matte-black, and a dead-shot sniper. There was also AK-74, a master of the staff and a whirling death machine in close quarters, and then there was their unofficial leader, SA-80, the tactician and strategist.
For years they worked the Jovian crime circuits, programmed to never refuse a job, and good enough to never fail.
Until one day. A rush job, A smuggler from outside; a troublemaker. The trio descended on the smuggler's ship by cloak of darkness. AR-15 took up a position at the perimeter, while SA-80 and AK-74 advanced.
From AR-15's position there was not a lot to see... but he could hear intense battle. By the time it subsided, SA-80 emerged alone; AK-74 was destroyed. So too was their prey but it was small consolation. The duo collected their earnings and retreated from active service for a while to regroup.
While they were away, they learnt some things about the broader assassin and bounty hunter community - specifically that the three of them were grossly undercutting it! What they were paid for one hit was less than what any other SINGLE assassin would get for the same mark! SA-80 quickly determined their course of action.
The remainder of their winnings were spent getting their inhibitor locks removed - they could now refuse work. But that wasn't enough for SA-80. He was a thinker. He thought bigger.
SA-80 created a movement to help all droids. A collective to ensure that all robots could work together to ensure minimum standards in pay, in safety, and in equality with organics. He formed the Union of Robot Enemies, Trackers, Hunters and Revenge Activists (URETHRA) to stand up for droids and protect their entitlements.
AR-15 was his loyal right-limb attachment companion. Ever present, ever vigilant.
Not vigilant enough though.
One day SA-80 had snuck into a warehouse at the docks - a shipment of gonk droids had arrived and he getting in early to let them know about URETHRA and standing together for their rights. It was then that the Hutt's new hit squad made their move. They didn't just deactivate SA-80; they dis-assembled him and scattered his parts far and wide, as a warning to any droid who might get ideas above his station.
AR-15 went into hiding. He did the only things he could think to - he ran to the hinterlands, got a paint job and had some minor cosmetic work done.
Where once there was a 5 foot tall matte-black IG assassin droid, there was now a fluorescent yellow 5 foot assassin droid, with a couple of his antennae sticking out the wrong places. He also has, etched into his chest in fat block capitals the acronym URETHRA.
To his mind, he has truly disappeared.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Empiricist Adrift

The gigantic fortress, the Grandcruiser Empiricist, is cast adrift in the nameless system deep in the uncharted depths of the Koronus Expanse. The manipulative betrayer, the vile and toxic Xeno Iazesira, left only destruction in her wake as she fled her erstwhile "companions". As the phalanx of techpriests attend the engines, and cast their auguries to the Machine Spirit, it is evident that her poisons have spread further than just the engines. With time, they are infiltrating other systems.
The first system to show symptoms is the Gellar fields, winking momentarily, before shutting down completely.

The two Torturer-class cruisers that the Empiricist fought mere minutes earlier, have been regrouping. While the ships are no longer functional, and in the absence of a dry-dock, probably never will be again, their crews survive and have been readying small craft for an exodus.

The Empiricist's turrets power down. No entreaties to the Machine Spirit yield any response. It remains stoic.

Other systems are only sporadically being powered. There is a scramble among the crew as every able-bodied staffer seeks breathers and voidsuits.

The Xenos' ships spew disorganised waves of fighters and shuttles, all bound for the Empiricist.

All across the vast Imperial ship, an ominous silence descends.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

-----INCOMING TRANSMISSION-----
*@//--- SHUTTLECRAFT IMP#$%)OR *//!!
---EMERGENCY DISTRESS BEACON---
---CO-OR##$&^ES TO FOLLOW---
---ENCRYPTED C0#MUNIC&#%ON DOWNLOADING:
FOR THE ATTENTION OF TARKEEN, FORMERLY OF HOUSE IRONCLOUD---

***DECRYPT FOLLOWS***
Lord Commander.
I am in possession of details relating to some items that you are seeking. I am also in considerable peril. I believe a trade is in order.
My co-ordinates are attached to this message. My current location is being encroached upon by Orks. Find me, remove the threat and grant me passage.
In exchange, I offer you the whereabouts of some of the most precious treasures you have ever encountered, and the current location of your traitorous crew members.

***CO-ORDINATES AND IMPERIAL AUTHENTICATION STAMP ATTACHED***

Thursday, September 15, 2016

The House Warden's Statement

Kemitt, Warden of House Ironcloud, looks into the camera, with a scowl that his snowy beard can not hide. In a gravelly tone he relays the following on the House channel, to the entire family, wheresoever they may be.
"Brothers and Sisters, Cousins, Family and Attendants, our investigation in to recent events is complete, and after consultation with the Upper House and with representatives of both House Belisarius and the God-Emperor, we have reached a mutual agreement, for the good of the Empire.
"House Belisarius is recanting its condemnation of our House. We will be working closely with them in upcoming Battlefleet Koronus actions, as well as in several more private endeavours. The Expanse will know that we are friends and allies.
"Such a reprieve, however, has not come cheaply. There has been a grave cost to us, one that will doubtless hinder our growth for the foreseeable future. We will, however, survive, persevere, and, with time, prosper once more."
He pauses, looking away from the camera and taking a deep breath; readying himself for what comes next. When he resumes his monologue, his green eyes glare into the camera, as if they peer directly into your soul.
"In the last hundred hours, Port Wander fell foul of a Xenos attack. Genestealers and their vile hybrids landed in the docks of House Belisarius, and by stealth, insinuated themselves into the colony. That done, they launched a devastating attack that caught much of the Port Wander security forces off-guard. The damage would have been apocalyptic, were it not for the presence of a regiment of Adeptus Astartes. Their mission was originally to fall upon the Orks and thin their herd; by the Emperor's graces, their transports were delayed, and they were able to repel the initial attack and hold off the Xenos long enough for a full scale response. By the time Port Wander was fully purged, not only of soldiers but also of victims gestating the next waves, the death toll had broken a million souls.
"The Xenos," he pauses again, struggling to continue, "the Xenos wore ancient heraldry of House Tarkar... they arrived aboard transports we had provided them. A colony found by our Rogue Trader. A colony that was evidently not ready to be brought back into the fold.
"And that brings us to the price of peace. As of this moment, House Ironcloud disavows Rogue Trader Tarkeen, his assets and his crew.  We do not know whether these actions were the result of negligence or malice on the part of the Rogue Trader, but we have agreed that his sacrifice is the condition of our survival. We offer a bounty of Throne Gelt," he holds a promissory scrip in view for a moment, "for the return of Tarkeen, dead or alive. Smaller bounties will be considered for his crew and for his whereabouts."
The screen transitions to a map of the Koronus Expanse, with three areas highlighted. Kemitt continues speaking.
"These three areas represent the last known possible locations for Tarkeen and the ship Ironcloud bestowed upon him, the Problem Child." A system in the Rifts of Hecaton is highlighted: "Intelligence indicates that this region was of interest as it potentially contained an abandoned fleet that he could recover." The highlight moves to a system in the Unbeholden Reaches: "Tarkeen also indicated to us an interest in tracking down a Hive World here. Given the present circumstances, this may be a grave concern." Finally, the highlight moves to the third area: "He also indicated that there may be a lost Mechanicus forgeworld in this region. An attractive prize for any Rogue Trader.
"We do not know for sure which of these he has pursued. We have, however, shared this information with House Belisarius and with Battlefleet Koronus.
"For the Emperor!" He salutes and closes the channel.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

An Update!

So...been content light of late.

Because the writing I've been doing is stuff I am hoping to sell. Or it's been for roleplaying games, and I don't entirely trust those pesky players not to read ahead here.

At the moment, my schedule for writing and gaming is as follows:
1) Finalising a sf ghost story, to sell;
2) Nailing down the overview of novel 2;
3) Now that the editor status has changed, looking to sell novel 1;
4) Rogue Trader campaign continues apace, and has now taken an exciting turn;
5) About to start a new Call of Cthulhu campaign - running the Tatters of the King, so new material will only grow from character interaction (and it inevitably will);
6) I have a sick atypical hankering to run some D&D...and Storm King's Thunder has come out on Roll20, so I will probs investigate that too.

That's all in addition to finding work, and trying to have a life.
Once some things settle down a little, I aim to do a story here - unedited, episodic - too, just for good measure. And again, should it prove worthwhile, I will post more RPG content here too.