Very understandable. As disappointed as I am to see the end of a promising campaign, real life must come first. Please let me know if you decide to pick it up again. I quite enjoyed it.
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Works for me! Very excited to get this rolling again. I feel like I never have the bandwidth or creativity for a homebrew but love playing in these types of games, and I'm really feeling the atmosphere you're building.
I’m good with Roll20 but will mean I’m not always to move my token at the same time I post. Bishop, it is browser based and free (for our purposes). Only downside from my perspective is basically no iPhone (not sure if it works on Android), but honestly even Google Slides gets hinky on an iPhone sometimes.
With his species’ natural dark vision, Resk wasn’t as blind as some but when the world lost all color, he still noticed. And, unfortunately, he’s never bothered to learn how to cast a simple light spell. Why bother when there were flashlights and he saw in the dark just fine? ”Well. This is inconvenient.” Then, louder so Bishop could hear, ”I’m fine. Grab your weapons, just in case.” He doesn’t bother to step outside. Not yet. Instead he begins to don his armor and grab his weapons and gear.
Hey, life happens. No worries on my end. Just wanted to make sure we were still going even if there is a pause.
Just checking in. Seems we've stalled a bit. Hope all is well with everyone.
Resk chews on his lip anxiously at the thought of sharing anything even remotely sensitive or requiring tact with the vesk, but ultimately defers to Bishop. "If you think that's the best path. I know the information is incomplete. It would be dangerous to draw too many conclusions from this. I hope you can help abate some of the wilder impulses." When the rest of the crew is gathered, Resk will share the text of what he managed to extract with them.
Eventually, whether it's after drills or when the rest of the crew arrives at the Harriden for drills, Reskk will try to find a time to pull Bishop aside (anywhere but in their assigned quarters), hinting at a discussion of some sensitivity. If Bishop insists on including other crew, Resk will accept though with some reluctance. He's just not sure who to trust but thinks he needs to tell someone. Resk then explains, "While you were preparing for your drills with the captain, I did some poking around in the Exodus's files. It's a... hobby." He glances furtively between Bishop and anyone else present, then continues. "There were massive safeguards in place, ICE like I've never seen, way beyond the norm for a simple exploration vessel, not that the Exodus is 'simple', but... Even beyond routine military grade. But I stumbled upon something, a transmission log, looks like it was in a cache of files that were deleted at one point..." He pauses, debates for a moment, then shrugs and swipes a few commands into his computer and pulls up the secured copy of what he found, showing it to the others:
"Do you know what this is referring to?"
Hmm. Unless the rest of the crew is interested in following up on what Resk found, he's just going to keep a low profile. But... he'll try again. I think I'm being too obfuscatory with my IC actions.
Very sorry to hear that, Tujon. My best to you and your family.
Once he arrives at the Harriden, Resk ensconces himself in a quiet corner away from the main hatch and bridge, perhaps a lounge or quarters that don't appear to have been claimed. Once there, he begins studying the code that powers his "spells".
LOL. I had a PF summoner who only cared for her eidolon (looked like a sea serpent). GM started throwing in a ton of cloaca jokes Anyway, my reading of Vinsonner’s last post is that we’re still working with loot and treasure, but now that we’re level 2, anything that has an item level/tier of 1 is free. Is that right?
Done with his initial probing, Resk saves the data he found, disconnects it from the Exodus's network, then switches the computer on his wrist to standby. He closes his eyes then slowly taps a finger against his right knee. Molly... too temperamental. Tap. The android... too many unknowns. Tap. Captain... too blunt. Tap. Soldier... follows orders. Tap. Bishop... Akiton. Gangs. Cousin. Quiet. The tapping stops as the finger hovers in the air. He opens his eyes, pulls his comm unit out, and sends a simple written message to Bishop's device, pausing only slightly to choose his words: @ Bishop:
Cousin, this is Resk. Would like to talk with you about memories of the gangs of Akiton. Should be more interesting than the myrmidon's drills. Meet you on the Harriden? He then stands up, collects his gear, then walks out, heading to the Harriden.
Rolls and OOC re: hacking:
Resk chews on his lip in frustration at the anodyne public relations schlock peddled on the public parts of the Exodus's intranet. He begins to dig deeper, trying to understand who was really funding this venture and what the purpose of it was. If I learned anything on Akiton and with Rylock, nothing is as appears on the surface. This is too neat. Too tidy. Too... idealistic. It doesn't make sense. With his door closed and mind focused on the task he had set for himself, he ignores the clock and does not voluntarily appear for any drill, whether it be fire, martial, dental or of any other nature.
Resk absolutely is not waiting to see which way things are going before casting overheat on the presumptive loser. Promise.
I completely understand, Vinsomner. I feel like I'm constantly apologizing in my games lately due to work commitments. Good luck on the interviews!
The Technomancer watches the conversation among his rescuers and his eyes slowly widen in disbelief. When the two most militant of the assembled don't even seem to agree it's a military operation, however, things begin to click. It IS a gang! Got it. He resolves to "lay low" until the hierarchy is determined and avoid offending anyone until then. He quietly pours himself some more coffee and refills for others, then "disappears" back into his bunk space without a word. Once there, he begins to try to access the Exodus's computers and learn more about the ship and its mission.
Real coughs slightly and raises a small, furred hand. ”Um, captain, if I may... They are ape things, or mimic ape things. Bishop and I are muridae. Just... um, being precise.” A whisker twitches as Resk stares at the captain a moment, then he finishes his coffee, stands and asks as he lifts his empty cup, ”Refills, anyone?”
I'm pretty flexible as I haven't really had time to crunch numbers on starship combat. That said, based on what I've played so far, I think the speed boost is definitely the engineer's "go to" ability for the first few levels, but eventually I'm definitely going to need to start doing more with diverting to shields. But for now... focusing on speed should be fine, particularly to the extent it helps us keep our guns in the proper arc.
Drills? Inspections? Resk hid a crestfallen expression behind a sip of coffee. Having grown up in a gang where he got by on smarts rather than brawn, Resk had learned compliance with the demands of the strongest brute in the room was generally the best course of action. That, and using his other talents to make himself useful... until a new brute came along or the old one 'disappeared'. That did not mean he looked forward to the prospect of "drills and inspections". Gangs never did drills and inspections. They just robbed people, fought for territory and, if necessary, killed other gang members or poor mooks who got in the way. Rylock hadn't done drills either, not really. Worked us to the bone, but for good money and in posh conditions. He might have escaped the gangs and Rylock, but he hadn't thought he was joining the military. And so, he sat in his chair, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, watching the others for their reactions to the vesk's pronouncement.
Good luck with the job hunt, Vinsomner. And I've updated the sheet with my stats. Thanks!
Despite outward appearances, Resk's head was pounding. On Molly's arrival, he looked up through squinting eyes and started to shake his head before wincing and waving a hand. "Thank you, but I've no tolerance. I tried to find some analgesics but was unsuccessful. Just some simple manipulations of the electrostatic charge on my garments. I can't abide filth." He poured some coffee, black, and after finding a chair to sit in and taking a sip, started to reply, "I guess I..." He pauses, blinks, then closes his mouth in thought as a whisker twitched. Hmm. What am I going to do? I don't have Rylock dictating what I do. Long Claws isn't threatening to cut off my feet... He shrugs, "I don't know. You don't get orders while aboard this vessel? If it's allowed, I would love to study it. It's extraordinary. If not... I'll probably code." He taps the miniaturized computer attached to his wrist.
Though he didn't appreciate it the night before, when Resk awoke he was glad for the privacy of his own room, even if the furnishings were spartan. He was particularly grateful for it as he woke while rolling out of bed and falling to the floor, groaning from the pounding in his head and the pain of the sudden stop. Groaning again and rubbing the top of his head, he squinted to look around the room. Where am... Oh... The ship. What's it called? The Exodus. How much did I drink last night? How did I get here? He stood up with a slight wobble born more from the hangover than lingering drunkenness and tried the latch on the door. When it opened, he nodded. And, I'm not in the brig. He cast a quick spell to clean his clothes, then brushed his teeth, groomed his fur, and stepped out into the common area where he began poking about for food stuffs in the kitchenette. Finding some coffee, he began brewing it, figuring others would be along soon.
Resk stares at Molly as if she's speaking ancient Castrovellian. "Not sugar. Liquor!" A heartbeat later it clicks. "Oh. Sugar, like 'honey'!" He nods with a lopsided grin. "That's sweet." He looks around a moment, seems confused, then asks, "Where am I sleeping? On the ship? Here? Here's good."
Resk's Changes for 2nd Level: +7 HP | New = 14 HP +5 Stamina | New = 10 Stamina +0 Resolve +0 Reflex
+1 BAB | New = +1 BAB +8 Skills | Ranks bought in: Computers, Engineering, Life Science, Mysticism, Physical Science, Piloting, Profession (Archaeologist), Slight of Hand New Spells
Class Skill: Magic Hack
Minor spoiler here based on Resk's personal knowledge and background... I think the GM gave me this info to help advance plot so I'm trying to have Resk drop it but maybe I'm being too round about with it... Spoiler: Resk knows the location of the other three sites. I tried to have him say as much in my last post. Maybe we don't want to explore those, but maybe it's a breadcrumb trail to follow.
Resk lifts his purple bourbon in an appreciative gesture to Bishop, grinning drunkenly before finishing off the glass. "Dey shay when you get shumt'ing wrong..." He pauses as he makes a face and fights off a wave of nausea. "You still learned shumt'ing. <hic> In a lab, maybe... On Akiton, it jusht got you killed." He burps slightly, makes another odd face as he swallows, and looks around the cantina as he says to Caleb, "Probably at the other tree sites... Rytlok might be sploring them now. We know... I know... Maybe others know, so we know... where dey are, but we shouldn't... we shouldn't..." He leaps up and makes a run for the bathroom. "Go! He returns a moment later, stumbling just a little but with a more relaxed expression. His outfit is surprisingly clean. "One more round?" He offers a toothy grin.
Resk watches the beginning of the wake for the lost crew of the fleet and at first isn't sure what to do. After a few minutes, he realizes this is a party in a group of unpolished individuals, more than a few of whom have likely drifted on the wrong side of the law (or, at least, had healthy indifference towards it). Just like back on Akiton... but cleaner, and with better liquor. He finishes off his glass, then orders another. By the fourth, he's casting minor cantrips, turning some drinks ice cold then surreptitiously turning one human's beer warm, changing whiskey to the color of an azure sea, and giggling to himself the whole time while he drinks a purple-hued bourbon, warmed and spiced with cinnamon. However, when talk of the Precursors and the "scientists" comes up, his eyes go wide and he waves his drink, sloshing it about, no longer giggling but angry. "Bahsh. Not scientists. Eeeee-diots. <hic> Dey set off the machines, 'Reshk, letsh shee what dis does,' and da factoriesh, an' then... an' then!" His eyes practically pop out with indignation. "They couldn't fight! <hic>" He takes another drink, the spins to the left. "Reshk! Do this!" To the right. "Reshk. Do that!" A step back and looking towards the ceiling with arms outstretched, "Shave us, Rex!" He takes another drink. "Bahsh! And to thinks, we was supposed to vizhit three other asstoids. But oh noesh... Reshk has to save the scientists who can't turn on a terminal wishout summoning Mecha-Devourer." He twirls about then flops down on a seat next to Caleb. He whispers to the android, "I can only imagine what happened at the other tree." Hiccup.
Resk listens to this with a furrowed brow. "A funerary ritual? In a cantina? How odd. We always just drank to celebrate the life." He eyes the drink, then sighs and stands up. He starts to walk off with her towards a different table before pausing, looking back at the collection of mourners and says, "But, um... sorry for the misunderstanding." He then follows Molly over to their table, quietly sips his drink and lets the others mourn their friends and colleagues, deciding it was perhaps best to listen and observe than risk offending anyone else.
When no objection is forthcoming to his joining the others -- and no one accepts his offer to surrender his weapons -- Resk manipulates the reality around him to quickly clean his garments and fur then quietly follows the others through the Exodus. Throughout he has a quiet running commentary, essentially talking to himself, about the technology and engineering of the massive vessel. It's obvious he's impressed. Once everyone arrives at the cantina, he notices the empty seats with the glasses of liquor and -- perhaps distracted by his thoughts on the Exodus -- promptly sits at one of them, grateful that someone has been so thoughtful as to have something to drink already waiting. Rolls:
Resk surveys the work he and Caleb have done in the system and nods. "Yes, I think so. If you have staff to tend to the rest of the repairs, this should give them the necessary guidance. If you trust them with your ship, that is." A whisker twitches doubtfully, but then he shrugs. It's not his ship, after all. He then looks up from the display with a curious expression. "Would you, uh, mind if I join you at this cantina? I'm curious to see this mothership of yours. It seems like quite a technological accomplishment." He pauses, then adds, "I'll surrender my weapons if that is necessary." He offers the last while remaining silent on his technomancer's abilities.
Woot! Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
Resk blinks in confusion. "Baggage? I have none. My personal supplies were destroyed in the sh... oh! Yes, 'baggage'. Rest assured, the benefit my skills will provide far outweigh the, um, baggage." Whether its self-confidence or arrogance that is the root of the boast, there is a sort of innocence to his tone. "But, uh, truly... You might want to screen the others or something before you let them aboard that carrier or dreadnaught or whatever it is. Also... your captain might want to know, Rytlok thought that was just one of four Precursor sites. You know. Delta. Fourth. Alpha, Beta and Charlie being the other tree." A whisker twitches. He gestures at the console. "Repairs are going well."
Aw! That's awesome. Congrats! Our son just recently turned two. It's a wild ride but so incredibly worth it.
Resk nods gratefully to Caleb. "Ah, yes, that would be my pleasure. These systems are somewhat rudimentary but I enjoy a challenge. If you take the time, it's almost like the systems start to talk to you. Quite relaxing, actually..." As he begins running some diagnostics and prioritizing repair tasks, he listens to Molly. "A vesk ship, you say? Ah, that would explain this code..." He tsks disapprovingly. "But Rytlok isn't an Akitonian crime family. More corporate. They were my ticket off Akiton, actually... I don't know where they're based, but I doubt it was that planetary scrap heap." He pauses, a brief look of panic on his face, before he shakes his head and goes back to work. After a few moments, he comes across Caleb's trail and blinks in surprise. "You're fairly adept at this work, android." Whiskers twitch as he looks over at the man. "I'm impressed." He then turns back to his terminal and small fingers continue their dance over the interface. Rolls:
Resk's nose wiggles slightly as Molly calls him "honey". He doesn't seem to know how to react to such a moniker. So, he just nods before going to talk with Bishop. When he and Bishop are done and the other ysoki scrambles to catch up to the vesk, Resk returns to the rest of the ship's environs and tries to quietly fill in Molly and Caleb on the same information. "...and so, I suggest caution." He finishes. Then, almost as an afterthought, he seems to realize where he is and what has happened. "Thank you, for saving me, by the way. And them. This is not a terrible ship. If you like it, I hope it can be fixed."
Having some privacy from the other scientists, Resk is somewhat more forthcoming. He peeks around, over his shoulder, looks in the corners, then nods and looks back at Bishop. "Sorry, brother, I don't mean to be..." He pauses to think about what is he actually means. "Rude? Yes, rude. I mean, I don't mean to be rude. It just sort of happens. Or obfuscatory." He stares at Bishop for a moment, blinks once, then continues. "We work for a company, or entity, called Rytlok. Lots of money, very lucrative. Practically threw money at me to join up. They referred to that moon as Site Delta and said it was believed to be what they call a 'Precursor' site, a pre-Gap civilization. We were sent to collect whatever artifacts and data we could. "Someone..." He scowls. "Some incompetent neobarb that doesn't deserve the title 'engineer' or 'scientist' must have touched a console he shouldn't have and set the whole place off. I managed to piggyback on the scramble frequency to send out a pulsed distress signal, but when those things came for us..." He shrugs. "We didn't get anything. But, um... look. The reason I wanted to talk in private..." He glances again to make sure the scientists can't overhear. "Employees of Rytlok have a tendency to, uh... how should I put this... disappear as soon as they express a desire to leave. It's engaged in some shady stuff, maybe not entirely what most people would think of as moral. So, um... might want to tell your captain. I don't know if there are any plants from the company in with the scientists to mind us, but I wouldn't be surprised."
The view outside of the Drift seems to pose little interest to Resk, aesthetic or otherwise, as his attention is more focused on the situation in which he finds himself. He is so focused, in fact, he seems surprised the rest of his "team" is still there. Like a bad centi-cred... He listens intently to Bishop's description of the mothership, the Exodus, and puzzles. It must be massive. A star citadel? Fascinating engineering feat. I'm going to have to... His thoughts are cut off as Bishop poses a question to him and he has to shift gears. Lying and obfuscation had never been one of his fortes. Perhaps I should just be honest? "I, uh, we..." He looks at the scientists, then back at Bishop. "It's complicated. I'm happy to explain it at the appropriate time. But, tell me... what is to become of us? What is this Exodus? An expedition? Are you military, civilian, freelance?" Resk thinks of the last as a euphemism for "pirate". "Your captain refers to conscription but only for one. Is there no choice or volunteering? What is to happen to those who do not volunteer or, uh, are conscripted? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but..." He shrugs, then adds in a whisper to Bishop while his back is to the other scientists, "Can we talk in private?" It doesn't take a genius to realize he's nervous about something (or more than one thing).
After recovering from any physical indignities he might have suffered (and praying nobody's voided bodily fluids have touched him), Resk looks at the console in front of him.
He reports on his findings. "Two of the landing gears have snapped from the impact and shields are low but stable. Light damage to the port quarter hull but no breaches. Systems are otherwise..." His voice trails off as he considers the readings.
Resk sniffs slightly as he mutters to himself, "You wouldn't need to tell me not to overheat the power converters. It's self-evident. Unlike, apparently, dodging plasma b...." The whipsaw of the landing sends him thrashing in his seat. He surely would be slamming his head into something were it not for having strapped himself down. As is, he struggles to keep his lunch down. Oh, Weydan... what have I done to earn this mistreatment? A vesk 'captain' and a blind pilot. I'm surely going to die. He slaps the release on his harness once... twice... a third time until it finally disengages and he stumbles to his feet. "With the luck we all seem to be experiencing today, I wouldn't be surprised if it is the hanger in which we've landed."
"Oh!" the ysoki expresses with some surprise. A whisker twitches. "Flexibility is good, but yes, do try to avoid the massive plasma beams. I don't think the shields can withstand another blast." he adds quietly. Who are these people?
Resk listens to the conversation while staring at the computer screen in front of him, poking his way through the systems and becoming acquainted with them. A quaint vessel, but serviceable. Nothing like what we had before, but perhaps I was unfair in my initial judgment. When the vesk mentions a "feared vessel to ply the spacelanes", he pauses in his digital exploration and looks up, a quizzical expression on his face. "I'm sorry... are you explorers or pirates? Not that I have any problem with, aaaaah..." His voice is suddenly stolen from him as Molly sends the ship plummeting back towards the asteroid, then back up again. He coughs slightly, tugging at his harness where it has cut into his shoulder, and decides to go back to trying to stay alive. Engineering Rolls if they make any difference: If Molly needs the speed, he'll divert to engines. If she doesn't, he'll divert to shields, trying to rebuild them during the lull in fighting.
Having caught a breather and without the captain barking orders at him — Does a vesk bark? More like... avalanche, if it were a verb — Resk decides to use the opportunity to reinforce the ship’s battered shields.
A lip curls in consternation as he silently muses on the failure. Hmm. Perhaps it’s best he didn’t give me orders. “Don’t mind me... I’m just poking around. Oh, you wanted me to do something? Why didn’t you say so?” Your wish is my command.
I've been really unsure about that myself but since I wasn't party to the ship construction I've been keeping kind of quiet on it. I think there are two issues, actually. First, are the coilguns linked? If so, they can fire together without penalty. If not, there's definitely a penalty. Second, I don't think they're in a turret. (Are they?) If they're only forward facing (and not in a turret), then they can only fire in the forward arc, so the pilot winning initiative each round and keeping us pointed towards targets is critical. At this point, I think the enemy gun emplacements are behind us.
Resk rocks slightly in his seat, thankful he strapped in. Sirens blared alerting to the collapsed port shields, but with the pilot maneuvering across asteroid's surface, it left the aft shields facing the turrets, and those were still at full power. These shields are useless against that volume of fire. Maybe I should have stayed in that room, hacked a few more robots... And these computers, no AI support. Oh, Weydan, I know I've never been particularly devout, but please don't let me die like this. As he considers these thoughts, he continues to poke and tap at the antiquated computers. Never much one to wait for commands from on high, he makes his own calculus and again tries to squeeze every last joule of power for the engines. Mechanics:
Yup. And movement is determined by who wins a piloting check each round (loser has to go first, so the winner can position themselves for the best shot). That said, as a matter of practicality and whether it's worth hashing out right now, it seems to me like this particular fight is just a matter of "get the hell out of here" (rather than destroy the turrets) but maybe I'm wrong...
Without waiting for further invitation, Resk agrees evasion and escape seem the wiser course of action, so he tries to divert additional power to the engines.
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