GM Debug's PbP Gameday 6: SFS 1-01 The Commencement (Inactive)

Game Master DebugAMP

Tinker continues to fire at Nyizen ...

Ranged Attack: 1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (11) + 3 - 1 = 13

Do we have an idea of the enemy guns' ranges?

I was just going off of what DeBug said.

Must have missed whatever he said, but there is a lot of information to sort through in this encounter. If it seemed Portia was getting close to the maximum range of the guns of the rest, then she would have just kept going faster, but I'm fine with standing with my earlier posted action.

Either way you have enough distance between the rear crew that you wont be taking ALL of the shots next round

The range of the weaponry is well in excess of the range of the field, however as there is payout for placement, the racers in the rear (with the possible exception of Ratrod) are going to be more interested in improving their standing than knocking out the frontrunner since they are now so far behind. Without an imminent chance to overtake you, they'll settle for shooting whoever is closest to them, either threatening their position or possible for them to overtake. Except Ratrod. He hates you.

Nyizen's vehicle begins firing off a set of jets, causing it to move at a much higher speed, although with a reckless trajectory.

Nyizen and Laboni both manage to strike Laboni's vehicle with a couple of shots, but Orsis seems to have given up on taking first. Instead, he's opting to try to slow down Velocity. Nyizen on the other hand does a complete spin-out, and ends up going backwards just as much as she was going forwards when all is said and done.

Finish line - 3000 ft
Laboni - 1750 ft
Velocity - 1125 ft
Orsis - 1100 ft
Nyizen - 1050 ft
Ratrod - 825 ft

Everyone is up again!

"Nice work V! Home stretch now, keep the heat on Orsis and it looks like you might pick up a silver medal!"

Piloting (Velocity): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Attack (Velocity's energy attack vs. Orsis): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Thank you for the clarification, Debug.

With a big grin on her face, Portia continues to push the racer as hard as she can to get to the finish line.

Piloting: 1d20 + 9 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 9 + 4 = 20

Apologies if things are a little vague in this stretch. The rules are a 'simplified version' of the chase rules, which leave a lot of wiggle room. That and whooo that's a lot of different stats and die rolls to manage... Nearing the same as a Tier 10-11 special! Now I'm realizing why my in-person GM looked like he was going mad here! I'm going to try to wrap up the race today, so I'll be over-zealously pushing whenever I get a break.

I'm going to be away from the computer and phone for about 8 hours in the evening, feel free to bot the piloting checks if it helps get us through this.

Tinker adjusts his fire to shoot at Orsis ...

Ranged Attack: 1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (8) + 3 - 1 = 10

With a burst of gunfire exchanged close behind you, Velocity seems to have taken quite a beating. Nyizen manages to pass Velocity and pull up on your tail. Orsis also takes a significant beating and Ratrod pulls up right alongside the Lashunta. The finish line is in sight...

Finish line - 3000 ft
Laboni - 2250 ft
Nyizen - 1550 ft
Velocity - 1125 ft
Orsis - 1100 ft
Ratrod - 1100 ft

Now might be time to hit the big red button...

"Hold onto your seat, Laboni," Mordin warns over the coms and activates the booster.

Mordin pounds the big red button and two flaps open on the rear of Laboni's junk racer. With a flash, a pair of jets kick on propelling the racer at reckless speeds that make Nyizen seem sane!

Just gonna roll the rest now.

A hail of gunfire is exchanged and a few shots hit Laboni, but most of the firepower is focused on Nyizen as the others try to get into a podium spot. Laboni lets out a scream, then a laugh over the com. "Now THIS is junkracing!"

She blitzes through the finish line, taking another 250 ft to finally come to a stop as the thrusters finish firing. Behind, Nyizen holds onto her lead over Velocity and Ratrod overtakes Orsis, but first place is cleanly seized by Laboni, with the help of her friendly neighborhood android with their overwhelming firepower.

Finish line - 3000 ft
Laboni - 3250 ft
Nyizen - 1800 ft
Velocity - 1575 ft
Ratrod - 1350 ft
Orsis - 1100 ft

As for the runners up...

A furious firefight erupts between Nyizen and Velocity, and when the dust settles, Velocity has taken second place, Ratrod and Orsis have both managed to slip past the reckless Nyizen, and the results are in!

1st: Laboni
2nd: Velocity
3rd: Ratrod

Reynold comes on the Laboni’s unit. ”You’re welcome. Now before the glory makes your head explode, go apologize to Ratrod and clean up your mess. No more freebees from the Society, kiddo.” He connects to Velocity once more to say, ”Congrats on the big silver, hotshot! Looks like you were onto something, big guns will get you pretty far in life.” He then takes off his headset and grins at his teammates. ”I need a cigarette after that.”

Laboni nods towards Reynold, still beaming with the excitement of her win. Finally she calms down a bit and approaches Ratrod's racer. "Hey... um... Ratrod? Hey... I just wanted to apologize for all of the tall-talk earlier. I'm pretty new here, and I just saw that's what everyone did so I... well. I think I took it a bit too far."

Ratrod grimaces. "Yeah... I'll say." He sighs, and continues. "I will admit though, you are quite... creative. You're welcome to come back and compete again, although next time we may change the rules a bit where they pertain to external help." He looks over your way as he delivers those last few words. "But I must say, it was a creative solution and you earned your victory. Don't expect that every time though... after this one you should expect to have a target on your back."

A huge smile crosses Laboni's face. "You mean it? I can come back and race again? WHOOHOOO!!!"

Ratrod shakes his head at Laboni's exuberance, and walks off the track to go handle the formalities. Laboni returns to the party. "Here... you guys should have this." She hands you 400 credits. "Part of the prize pool. This was your win too!"

"Good work all around," Mordin says. "Shall we report in and then go see the next venture-captain?"

"Yeah. I suppose. The way things are going though, I expect the next one to be trapped by drug dealers or something just as stupid. I think I just might go with that cigarette thing. You aspirate through the filter right?"

Reynold smiles at Da'at and reaches for his lighter. "Sounds about right. Let's check in with the boss to let him know the job's done, then we'll hit the next faction leader. Who leads the Exo-Guardians? 'Zigilv...Zigwiliv...Zigzag...?'"

"Most people I hear call him Ziggy."

With a big grin on her face, Portia mimes dusting off her hands, "You know, that was a little too easy, but hey it was fun. At least it's better than the last job. Let's get going to the next thing while I'm still in a good mood."

When you return to Radaszam, his door is closed. One of his assistants informs you that he is taking a call and will be with you shortly. After a solid 20 minutes, you finally hear him call for you. "Come on in!"

Looking at you all he laughs and shakes his head. "Well that didn't quite work out as expected... So it sounds like Laboni wants to be a regular on Ratrod's racing circuit now! So much for keeping the ranks full." He gives an exasperated sigh. "I've gotta say though I'm not too disappointed. That stunt you all pulled off impressed even Ratrod. I'm sure he's still a bit bitter about the whole thing, but the Salvage Union even offered Laboni some extra incentive to stay on with them." He laughs quite loudly. "Well... tried to hold onto a Starfinder and instead I got an in with the Salvage Union! Guess that worked out all right in the end. Thanks for all of your help! I've got some more business to attend to, so best of luck on your Commencement!"

He ushers you back out of his office where you find Laboni, somewhat out of breath. "Hey guys! The Salvage Union wants me to stay on and gave me some extra scrap to get back to work. They also gave me this, but I think one of you will use it better than me, and you've earned it!"

She gives you one suit of Graphite Carbon Skin Armor. "I think Radaszam wants to talk to me now. See you all later! I hope he's not too mad..."

~Some time later~~

You make your way back to the Downlow district to meet with Zigvigx, the Shirren leader of the Exo-Guardians.

Garbage litters the ground around the district’s largest art park—a cement lot filled with undulating metal sculptures and covered in graffiti of grotesquely adorable creatures. The sounds of music and chatter drift over from the nearby clubs, chronically interrupted by the roar of the local gangsters’ engines. A heavily augmented host shirren is sitting on one of the park benches, eating a simple meal of cold grub-noodles and rice candy. Their antennae perk up at the tremor of approaching footsteps. “Welcome, new Starfinders! And congratulations!” the shirren’s voice telepathically projects. “My speech-name is Zigvigix, but feel free to call me Ziggy, if that would be easier for you. Have some rice candy to celebrate your graduation! Today is your big day!"

“When you are ready, I have two assignments I could use assistance with. The first is to help me secure a new headquarters on Absalom Station. I’ve been in talks with our station’s protectors, the Stewards, and they were kind enough to give us ownership of a warehouse here in Downlow for that purpose! The current owners no longer want it because a vicious alien took it over and kills anyone who goes inside. Once the alien is gone and the warehouse cargo has been returned to its owners, we can start installing desks and computers, so please go in and incinerate the creature!"

“My second assignment...” Zigvigix twitches their tooth barbs for a moment and then holds out a credstick. “Please buy the brand-new Strawberry Machine Cake album, Star Sugar Heartlove!!!, which is out today, and give it to Historia-7 when you see her. She is the head of the Dataphiles, so you should meet her today! I wish to do it myself, but I... I have trouble standing for long periods of time. Thank you very much!”

Reynolds scoffs slightly at the sound of the band's name. "That candy-pop group? Geez, I thought Historia-7 had better taste. I guess SMC's pretty hot right now, though, so it could be a good investment. I might pick up an album myself to scalp later."

Barely perceptible sweat begins to slick Reynold's palms, which he wipes on the handle of his tactical semi-automatic pistol. "On the plus side, though, looks like a critter in the Downlow has a chronic lead deficiency. I never went to med school, but I reckon we can help it get its fix."

"A lead deficiency you say? Should we go and get some tire weights to feed to the beast?"

Mordin shakes his head at the exchange between Reynold and Tinker. "Couldn't hurt."

The dwarf accepts the credstick from the shirren host. "Should we go get that first, before the vicious alien rips us to shreds?"

"Please, do deal with the... erm... squatter as soon as possible. We've got workers standing by reading to bring in the desks and chairs and they're charging us hourly even as we wait! Waiting in line for the album could take hours... Their music always makes me feel better, but it has been hard to get my hands on their newest releases. It's rather difficult for me to stand in the long lines." He appears to have major scarring about his legs which seem to make standing a bit more difficult for him.

"Historia-7 lost her mentor in the Scoured Stars, I was hoping maybe this could cheer her up... But first... our new base!"

"Gotcha. Alien extermination first."

"Who-hoo! A bughunt! I think they did a movie about a weird creature that ate everything in it's territory. Outsider? By Rid-Me Scotts? That thing is hilarious." chuckles Da'at as they start making their way towards the warehouse. "Hey that piece of armor we were given... How many armholes does it have?"

She gives you one coupon, redeemable for one suit of Graphite Carbon Skin Armor. "I think Radaszam wants to talk to me now. See you all later! I hope he's not too mad..."

Yeah... We'll go with that... and It said that ALL along... I swear >.>. Also pictures of more faction leaders have been added to the slides.

"First I get to drive something, then I get to practice my shooting? This day just keeps getting better." Portia says with enthusiasm as she follows along to the warehouse.

"I like your enthusiasm, lass," Mordin says to the soldier.

Nothing from Padme since Sunday, so I'll be pushing forward.

Ziggy slowly gets to his feet. "The warehouse is just down the road from here. Inform the security patrol that I sent you. I'll make my way over to assess your work when you've completed it."

If there are any purchases you wish to make before entering the warehouse, you can do that now. Including redeeming your Graphite Carbon Skin Armor for any 1 person. Yes, I said person, they don't serve Tieflings... outsiders don't count.

~~A roughly 1/4 mile (0.4 km for those of us who use SI units) walk later~~

Station security surrounds a stark warehouse near the end of an industrial row. A force barrier has been erected around the entire site, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. "Nothing to see here, move along!"

"Ziggy sent us," Mordin says. "We're supposed to exterminate a pest."

The guard turns and motions to his supervisor. "These guys claim to be the exterminators."

The supervisor walks forward and pulls out a small portable computer. Looking down at it he begins to read out loud. "The Station Security will not guarantee your safety within the confinement zone. Upon entering into the confinement zone, the force barrier will be re-erected. The force barrier will not be powered down unless deemed safe by all active officers. Safety of those within the field during this process will not be guaranteed. Please for the record state that you understand and will not hold Station Security liable for any financial loss or bodily harm incurred while in the confinement zone."

"I understand the warning and will not hold Station Security liable for any financial loss or bodily harm incurred while in the confinement zone," Mordin parrots.

Portia dutifully repeats the liability statement then asks, "Why is this area cordoned off exactly? What can you tell us about the situation?"

"Ah... budget rate exterminators. Taking the job first and asking questions later." The officer shakes his head.

"Well, as best as we have been able to piece together, a two-bit crime lord illegally imported some creature... which promptly ate said crime lord. The creature is loose within the warehouse and given how dangerous it is, we're keeping it contained until the new owners remove it."

He taps a few times on the display, then turns it to show Portia and the party. "Security footage" he flatly says.

The screen shows a strange feathered best, quite large in size. It appears to have what seems to be a gangster cornered. The creature lunges, and after a brief scuffle the gangster is torn to shreds and dragged away from the camera.

No Life Science here.

"That thing doesn't look so bad. Does anyone know what it is, or what it can do?"

"Obviouslt, it's a giant chicken that can rip a grown man to shreds."

"You don't think it would find me particularly attractive as a meal, do you?"

Quiet up till now Padme' bends forward to have a closer look at the screen. (note GM if this is a rare creature, My DC is reduced by 5 for the Xenoseeker theme I've chosen.) life science: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Padme' studies the monitor intently then announces, This is, a Feather Stalker, an aberration known to be a ruthless stalker and hunter. They are known to adapt their bodies over the course of a few weeks to particular threats, and each stalker tends to be a little different than the first. Padme pauses to see if she can recall anything else useful.

"Right. Like I said, a giant chicken."

It's not a particularly rare creature, just not normally found, nor allowed on Absalom Station.

"Well, if you're all ready..."

The officer motions to one of his compatriots and they take positions with their guns raised, pointed towards the building. "We'll lower the shield for 10 seconds, on my mark. Ready? Set.... MARK!"

The shield drops and the officers usher you through before raising it again. Once the shield is back up, they all relax and get back to their posts. The door to the warehouse has been forced open, and it hangs ajar revealing a dimly lit crate-filled warehouse. The creature's location is not obvious, and for the moment it is not visible nor is it making any sound.

The warehouse ceiling is 30 ft high, and a catwalk runs 15 ft above the floor around the inner perimeter of the building. Dozens of crates and barrels are scattered throughout the warehouse.

Crates on the map are 5 ft tall, Barrels and Scaffolding are 10 ft tall. The vehicle in the southwest of the building is 5 ft tall. The room is dimly lit, so unless you have low-light vision you'll need a light source. Mark your movement paths in case I need to roll back any actions due to sudden baddie appearance. Which clearly wont happen in here.

Everyone, go ahead and place yourselves at the entrance to slide 1 (the new map). From there feel free to move yourselves about and describe your actions.

Mordin pulls out his pistol and moves around to climb the stairs to the catwalk, trying to be quiet.

Stealth: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12

Reynold stays on the ground floor, keeping his static arc pistol out and switching its setting to "kill" rather than "stun." He peers around the large object he hides behind to check the wreckage and the large hole for signs of the monster.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Using her hand light implant to see, Portia draws her laser rifle and moves in thirty feet while she looks around.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Assuming the light negates stealth. Moved due 30 feet due west from entrance.

The barrels and crates are partly opened, and while you don't see any sign of the creature, you are able to find some useful items among the mostly empty crates. Reynold spots a Medpatch left behind in one of the emergency equipment barrels, and Portia find a flashlight that was left behind.

Reynold carefully moves forward to the junk pile, then moves towards the pit. The junk pile shows signs as having been inhabited by the monster as it is arranged somewhat like a nest, however it is not currently in it. Cautiously peering into the hole reveals nothing other than a partially collapsed crawlspace, likely too small for the creature to make effective use of.

Portia continues forward near Reynold and spots nothing as well.

Mordin ascends to the catwalk and begins to circle the area.

So far... all is clear...

Da'at steps in and sighs. And of course, you forget the lights. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT.

Stealth: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Suddenly, he smacks his forehead with one of his hands, as the others brace the heavy laser more comfortably. "DUH, THE DAMN IMPLANT!" He begins to chuckle as he activates the wayfinder implant before smacking his forehead again. If the giant chicken doesn't hear that, maybe it deserves to die.

The room is dimly lit, so unless you have low-light vision you'll need a light source.

Anyone in armor should have a light source inherent in their armor.

Tinker moves forward, blaster at the ready.

I can't see the map from here, or move myself, can someone help a brother out? Preferably not putting me out front!

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Stealth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

Who's the man!?