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Post by jenburdoo on Jan 24, 2011 21:58:59 GMT -5
No RPs appear to have been going on for a long while; anyone want to try one? I've run quite a few on other boards, but be warned: I play by Murphy's Rules. If your character screws up, it will be in the most annoying/strange/outright-insane way possible... Past samples include guardsmen who forgot to pull the pins on their grenades before throwing them, an Ogryn who jumped into an Ork foxhole and found himself stuck, and a man who got his fingertip hacked off by a very rusty Ork blade. Over the course of several ingame hours, the rest of his finger fell off, then the hand before he realized he needed to get first aid.
And we haven't even gotten to the regimental-level games. When you leave an airfield undefended, of course you should expect orks to airdrop onto it and take it away from you...
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Jan 24, 2011 22:14:21 GMT -5
Interesting timing, PM inbound.
Reds
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Post by Lord General Armstrong on Jan 24, 2011 22:58:05 GMT -5
Well I love participating in role plays. I write in them every day (if theirs interest). But I lack imagination and suffer from poor writing skills.  . - But I love the vastness and the fluff of 40k and want to help write apart of it. Along with my mates here on IGMB. Well that's my talk done. Jarms48a |
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Post by StillANoob on Jan 25, 2011 2:52:28 GMT -5
I wouldn't mind being in one. I was in one a while ago but I went away and didn't get to finish it.
SaN
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Post by Walrus on Jan 25, 2011 3:42:58 GMT -5
I wouldn't mind being in it either ;D
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Post by Kaikelx on Jan 25, 2011 18:38:47 GMT -5
Curious, but it's going to get annoying if I have to write out my character pulling the pin every time I throw a grenade, breathing after I sprint, pulling a slide when I reload an autogun, eating, drinking, sleeping, blinking, or, on a regimental scale, having to mention every post that my troops are getting fed, watered, supplied with ammunition from either orbital or land-based routes, the commissars disciplining any problems within the regiment, detailing every unit's position in an organized convoy format for travel, writing about the upkeep of weapons........
In general, I'm worried this might devolve into a case where players have to slog through paragraphs of logistical information that is generally assumed in most cases, especially in regimental RPs, simply because the GM might pull a fast one on them simply because they didn't think it would be necessary to write out every time Bob the highly-trained stormtrooper pulls the pin of a grenade, depresses the lever, and whatever the third safety is (I don't throw grenades for a living), every time he wants to prep a room, or the GM might decide that an entire regiment is gone, simply because Colonel George said "C Company, flank right and loop around to the rear of the traitors." and didn't explicitly order C Company to actually shoot them or take cover, meaning they stood around aimlessly getting shot at in the open....
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Post by Trickstick on Jan 25, 2011 21:38:19 GMT -5
You know, i have never actually participated in a forum RP before, always been one of those sections i passed over. What exactly does it entail?
I'm currently having an idea about a partially deaf basilisk driver, one of the most fun jobs in the Guard.
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Post by jenburdoo on Jan 26, 2011 4:33:19 GMT -5
Kaikelx: OK, I'll try and keep those things to a minimum. I do go by the rule of funny, perhaps more than is wise.
Trickstick: It's easier than it looks. Think of me as the storyteller, and you as a character reacting to the cues and environment I provide. It's like a thought exercise; what would your character do in a given situation? Whatever it is, you write it, and the gamemaster (or GM) responds to that in turn, meshing the different players' ideas together into a plot. Watch if you like for a few posts, you'll soon get the idea. You only need to write a paragraph or two at a time, describing your character's surroundings, thoughts, words and actions, and reacting to the same things as described by other players.
*********************
RP:
Deep under beleaguered Hive Helsreach on wartorn Armageddon, the caverns are bright and hot. All around you is the sound and stench of sweating humanity. Soldiers, civilians, lords and gangers are all to be found here, huddled wherever they can scratch out a hole in the dusty walls. Fear is in the air; fear of the orks, fear of the death they have brought to this world for the second time. Yarrick is on Armageddon; one of his speeches blares from the loudhailers. But he is not here, and the sacred hive must be defended by someone. Anyone. No matter how unsuited.
In the center, newly and rudely mustered over the past five minutes, stands a small squad of troops - some smooth-cheeked and new to war, others hardened and vicious. This is the 1118th Underhiver Volunteers, and you were just volunteered. A grizzled sergeant on a bent crutch inspects you, dubiously.
"TEN-SHUN!" he bawls at you.
************************
OOC:
There you go. Devise a character and describe him (or her). He can be a guardsman separated from his regiment, a hardscrabble ganger, or a conscripted hiver. Everyone gets a knife, and you may choose either a stub pistol, autopistol or laspistol and another close-combat weapon of your choice, OR a lasgun, autogun or shotgun. All equipment is of average quality (unless you wish to describe how you have painstakingly cared for it ever since your first birthday on distant Cadia or something), and no special, heavy, or wargear-type weapons are allowed, so no powerswords or plasma pistols.
Character creation, GO!
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Post by StillANoob on Jan 26, 2011 6:32:39 GMT -5
Character. Sorry, hope it's not too long.
Cpl. Cornelius Schrueder. Raised on the Deathworld of Vienmang, in the Rodina system, and was first assigned to the 14th Jungle Troop, a mechanized assault force. The 14th Jungle Troop and the 2nd Jungle Drop Regiment, along with detatchments from the 136th Rodina Armoured Company and 51st Rodinian Royal Fusiliers, made a flanking manouvre around a Traitor Gaurd force. Unexpectedly, they were counter-attacked by a force of Chaos Space Marines from the Iron Warriors Chapter. The counter-attack thouroughly routed the force, and caused huge amounts of casulties, with men trickling back to their base in ones and twos over the next 3 weeks. Cpl. Schrueder was one of the survivors. Most of the Valkyries and Vendettas of the 2nd had made it back intact while, nearly all the APCs of the 14th were destroyed. To create a fighting force the 2nd and the 14th were combined, creating the 2nd/14th Jungle Drop Troop, who later became known as the 'Howling Hawks', because every trooper would scream into an open vox channel when they made their grav chute descent, echoing the cries of their brutally murdered comrades. The 2nd/14th was transferred to Armageddon, and Cornelius was apart of many missions, his last being a daring air strike against an Ork fuel depot. Faulty intelligence led the force to believe that only a few AA positions existed, when in fact there were over a hundred guns and several Ork Fighta-Bombaz. The force was shot out of the sky, and some of the survivors made it to the nearby Hive Helsreach. Cpl. Schrueder was one of those men.
Cpl. Schrueder is trained as a Vox operator, as well as being a specialist assault trooper, thanks to his training in the 2nd/14th regiment. He carries a large machete which is standard issue to his unit, although each trooper lovingly cares for their blade as it is more than just a tool, but a weapon that will have saved their lives on more that one occasion. He wears the olive drab combat pants and flak vest of his unit, as well as standard issue combat boots. However he had to use his shirt to bandage his own wounds after the crash, so he now only wears a tan singlet under his jacket, and the last remaining strip of his jacket (the part of the sleeve which displayed his rank) is tied around his head as a bandana. He also carriers a battered autogun, which he managed to salvage from the wreckage of the downed Valkyrie, in which he rode.
******
Cpl. Schrueder snapped crisply to attention, bringing his booted heel swiftly down, to land beside his other foot with a resounding clang. His eyes are focused forward and stay there, as the Sargent inspects the rest of the troops.
SaN
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Jan 26, 2011 13:39:21 GMT -5
(Eh, what the hell, this should be fun.)
Volunteer Report
Name: Eli *no last name given, bit through wrist of secretary who pressed for more information*
Age: Indeterminate, likely early to late 30's
Rank: "Volunteer Conscript"
Gear on Arrival: Various knives, scissors, string, needles, stimm injector (confiscated), Hacksaw (confiscated) dark brown utility vest, factory worker jumpsuit, "liberated" autogun and flak vest/helmet (further query forthcoming)
Description: Eli or "Hack" is an average height human male with pale skin, though constantly covered in grime and oil, making this determination almost impossible. He has a semi-muscular and surprisingly athletic frame, likely brought about from his time as a Hive Ganger, judging by tattoos, from the Helix Gang. Arms and torso are covered in various tattoos depicting various things, including what looks to be a kill count. Unlike other Helix Gangers, does not have tattoo over right eye claiming, "I ain't want nuttin gettin in tha way a' ma shooting eye."
Harsh disposition.
Other Training: Surprisingly, has training in medicae, though to what extent, he refuses to say only stating, "Just think what I could do with a real medkit!" when found sewing another ganger back together with dental floss and chewing gum after a run in with Ork forces.
Eli just stares back at the sergeant, wiping spit off the side of his face with the back of his hand, some of the grime coming along with it.
"I don't wanna know ya that well buddy," he says, checking the slide on his autogun. Watching the trooper next to him click his heels together as he snapped to attention, Eli sneered a bit. He didn't want to be here, and if Bones hadn't had his spindly bits carved out by that big green fella, these damn press gangers wouldn't have been able to tie him down and drag him here. Though he sure put up a fight, cut off the fingers of one of the press gangers and broke the leg of another. Not to mention the spiffy new gun and body armor he "borrowed" from that dying man in the alley.
But here he was, and it was time to make the most of what these idjits wanted.
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Post by Lord General Armstrong on Jan 26, 2011 20:29:06 GMT -5
(Why not I love these things)
Name: Alexander Jalousies
Age: Early 20's
Rank: Watch Master
Equipment: Standard issue flak vest, Kantrael manufactored lasgun, standard issue helmet with attached Mark IX re-breather, frag grenades, spare ammunition.
Miscellaneous equipment: Ration packs, filtered water, copy of imperial guard uplifting primer, boot polish, tooth brush & toothpaste. ETC.
Description: Born on Corilithian's Capital planet, Alexander received some of the best education available, his parents were high members of the Corithian banking regime. So he was brought up in luxury. With his education he could have ran for imperial governing, but was foolish enough to enlist the imperial guard. Due to his back ground he was treated to top of the line weapons and Armour and was bestowed with the watch master's position in his squad. His regiment the 688th Corilithian mixed battalion was then stationed on Armageddon.
******
Alexander stood at attention his fellow squad, next to him doing the same. To his left a scruffy looking character with an out of date autogun and what appeared to be an odd fitting flak vest. He saluted as the officer walked past and slapped his fellow squad mate to do the same.
He was ready for what ever challenge he would have to face.
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Post by Trickstick on Jan 27, 2011 6:10:45 GMT -5
Name: Ericson Tamsin Shufflebottom III
Age: 37
Equipment: Old semi-functional lasrifle, knife, worn clothing and stolen yet well fitting boots
Son of common hivefolk from the planet Tvashtar, few can say if Eric leads a charmed or cursed life. His parents gave him his noble sounding name to try to elevate his station in life, which was mostly unsuccessful as he was bullied relentlessly as a child. Suprisingly gifted when it comes to tech, Eric was sent to the accademy of engineering at age thirteen. At the age of twenty Eric was working as an atmospheric technician at the spaceport. He accidently stowed away on a ship heading for the armageddon sector because his timepiece stopped working and he did not realise that his shift had ended. However, unkownst to him the transport he was due to take home exploded, killing all aboard.
Finding himself in space he managed to work for his passage, eventually finding himself at Hades hive. He found work as an atmospheric engineer, repairing the damaged systems for noble houses. One such house mistook his name to mean that he was a nobleman from off world and fronted him enough capital to start his own business. This business went from strength to strength and he later married and had 4 children.
Fortunately, several days before the start of the war Eric was kidnapped and brought to Helsreach. The intention of the kidnappers was to ransom him back to his family for a tidy sum, however this was not to be as Hades Hive was destroyed soon after. The kidnappers panicked and argued over what to do. During the argument guns were drawn and there was a firefight, with the men eventually killing eachother. Eric later escaped where he was picked up by a guard pressgang.
Eric has the habit of having bad things happen to him that save his life.
---
Eric shuffles around unsure of what to do. Seeing the others come to attention he tries to emulate their actions, with little success. He ends up dropping his lasrifle on a rat that was about to bite him, parts falling off when it hits the ground. Quickly picking his rifle bits back up he tries to look normal. What he wouldn't give for his tools and half an hour with this piece of rubbish.
Looking down the line Eric felt extremely out of place, surrounded by people that his wife would have referred to as "dangersome".
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Post by jenburdoo on Jan 28, 2011 3:01:12 GMT -5
The sergeant appears unimpressed. He sneers into Eli's face, but seems to think better of responding. "I'd shoot ya fer insubordination," he answers, "'cept' I waste a bullet."
He glances over the rest of the squad - there are ten of you altogether, mostly teenaged gangers with gapped teeth and rusty autorifles - and designates Alexander as squad leader and Schrueder as his second. He points in a direction that could be loosely described as "west," if you were outside where directions had any real meaning. There is a yawning tunnel at that side of the complex, a cleared space around it where the refugees try not to think about what might come out. Rudely blocked with scrap and a fixed heavy stubber, it is a poor excuse for a defense; but Armageddon's true defense is the inexhaustible lives of its men, and you are the new fuel for that fire which may consume the orks, and perhaps you, in its fury.
"The orks is that way, boys." he explains with a drawl. "There's a defensive strongpoint 'bout a mile in. Report there fer orders, but watch out fer ork spies on the way. Dey bin sneakin' in around here like th' primer says they shouldn't be able to, so watch yer step. I'll organize another squad an' send it after you, come half an hour. Clear? Right, off ya go then."
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Post by Lord General Armstrong on Jan 28, 2011 5:36:23 GMT -5
Alexander was glad he was selected as squad leader, a small but noticeable chuckle sprang from behind his re-breather.
"Alright, lads lets move out."
Alexander stood behind the squad on the move towards the location were the sergeant pointed out, the winding corridors of Armageddons hive cities was not pleasant to look at. But alex saw one advantage in these tunnels , he could funnel the orks back through and limit there numbers if there position was unsalvageable.
The rest of the walk was quite for him, squad members bickering in front of him, typical low life stories. Alex checked his rifle, then waited his new orders, like he was told. He found a flat scrap piece and took a set. "This is it, emperors mercy, this isn't a defense, this is a death trap. A single heavy stubber, scrap metal! Schrueder radio command and tell them we made it and are awaiting orders. Eli mount that heavy stubber, that autogun doesn't look well looked after."
Alex then pointed to two other squad mates to search nearby areas for more scrap metal, sandbags, weapons anything to better reinforce the area.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Jan 28, 2011 9:21:03 GMT -5
Eli stared at Alex for a moment, wondering who this little priss was who was giving him orders, not to mention mocking "Celia" his prized autogun. Under any other circumstances, he would have left the little punk for dead after he's slashed his throat, but then, there were witnesses...
However, this young 'un really didn't seem to know how to deal with actual gangers, especially ones who had lived their entire lives in the underbelly of civilization.
Then again, he was going to be able to run the stubber, and he always enjoyed those moments. So, clambering over scrap and gear with a grace he shouldn't seem to possess, Eli expertly loaded in the first belt, racked the slide, lined up the sights, and even took a quick test fire to make sure the damned thing worked. After everything was to his satisfaction, he leaned back and started cleaning out under his fingernails with a wicked looking knife.
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Post by Trickstick on Jan 28, 2011 14:10:04 GMT -5
Eric grumbles inwardly as he sets off to search the piles of detritus for something salvagable. As he pokes about through piles of rubbish and refuse he keeps glancing at the shadows. The sarge had said that the orks were being sneaky, filling Eric's stomach with worry.
After finding several large sheets of corugated iron and dragging them back to the defences, Eric saw something in the corner of his eye, something glinting in the low level lighting. Proceeding towards the area that his eye was drawn to his bowels started to churn. He saw a piece of shiny metal and, as he cleared the filth from around it he discovered that it was a damaged flamer in the grip of a severed hand. Startled, he fell backwards and gave out a small yell.
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Post by Lord General Armstrong on Jan 28, 2011 22:11:55 GMT -5
Alexander heard the yells of the trooper called Eric, he stumbled from his seated position, slapped his lasgun into his hands, while checking its power level fully charged. Alex ran and jumped a few scrap pieces and found the trooper lying on the ground.
"Lucky fall there Eric, could of fell into the scrap metal, could of hurt yourself." He cast a hand and helped the soldier up. Then he saw it the protruding hand, if not for his rebreather alex would have vomited. But he pushed that aside.
"Be on your guard, my be stray orks out here, the uplifting primer says they'll be disorganized I pray to the emperor that its right. Well grab that flamer could be useful if we can get it working."
***
OOC: Will there be a GM update soon jenburdoo, great timing StillANoob only 3 minutes after mine.
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Post by StillANoob on Jan 28, 2011 22:14:37 GMT -5
'Watch Master Jalousies, sir! I followed your orders. Command said to guard this entrance and wait for the second squad to arrive. Communications are very weak though, sir. It might be the Vox waves over bouncing in this tunnel, taking up alot of power, and it should only get worse the further we move in."
After making his report Schrueder moved down the line, preparing to take his place near the stubber, where his experience could be used to direct its considerable firepower. But suddenly, there was a strangled cry from the direction that the scavengers had been sent. Raising his Autogun to his shoulder and peering down the sights, Schrueder cautiously started in the direction the noise had come from.
"Trooper! What is it?" he called, "What have you found?"
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Post by jenburdoo on Jan 29, 2011 0:05:17 GMT -5
OOC: (Spock eyebrow rise) Um, given that the heavy stubber was something you saw BEFORE you were given your orders, how did you get the idea that it was your destination -- ie, a mile into the tunnels where you were supposed to report to someone whom you obviously haven't reported to yet?
IC: "Ahem."
A gruff voice announces itself at Jalousies' shoulder. He turns to find the master sergeant behind him.
"What are you still doing here, Sergeant?" he says. "I told you to move A MILE OUT YA BIG GAKKER! I said TA REPORT IN! DO YA SEE ANYONE TO REPORT TO, MISTER?!? Are you a FRIKKEN MILE OUT OF THIS CAVERN?!? No yer NOT!!!"
All around you the younger members of the squad are scrambling to grab their gear and move away from the gesticulating sergeant. His mouth works feverishly and his spittle flies in your faces.
"Yer not s'posed to wait fer th' gakkin' orks to waltz right IN here, yer supposed to go OUT there an' STOP 'EM! Now SHIFT YERSELVES afore I get the bleedin' COMMISSARIAT over 'ere!"
As you hastily climb over the barricade and march into the darkness, you hear him muttering incoherently about incompetent underlings...
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Post by Trickstick on Jan 29, 2011 0:22:19 GMT -5
"Master Jalousies, Sir, thank you, sir." Eric blurted out breathlessly as he brushed himself off. "I'm ok, just a bit, of a shock."
He bent over and tried to catch his breath. Seems like five minutes out of the settlement and he was jumping at shadows already. He waved at Schrueder, unable to shout but signalling he was ok.
Eric was thankful to the watchmaster for helping him up. Since he had come to Helsreach he had found few people had been civil to him, except the priests and they just wanted another ear to preach to.
Having caught his breath he turned to face Master Jalousies.
"I'll try sir"
Keeping one eye on the shadows Eric went back to where he had found the flamer. Gripping the end of it, he dug his heels into the pile and heaved. The flame unit came away with an audible squeltch, the blood and viscera trying to stick it to surrounding materials. The lifeless hand had been cleaved at the wrist, the ragged wrist glistening in the light. It just clung to the trigger, squeezing it in death as it had done in the final moments of life.
Eric vommited. Twice.
Eric took his knife and tried to prise the hand from the trigger mechanism. The flesh was cold and yet still supple, the knife slicing into the flesh before it dropped to the floor. Eric gulped and made the sign of the aquilla, kicking the hand into the shadows. He at least hoped the man had died a quick death.
Looking over the flamer he had salvaged. It was covered in congealed blood, the worst of which he tried to wipe off with his shirt. He was uncertain anything could be done to repair it without proper tools and spare parts. One of the tanks was punctured in several places and was empty. It may have been Eric's mind playing tricks on him but the holes looked an awful lot like teeth marks. The hose had a split half way down and the nozzle was bent. With a bit of tape he may be able to repair the hose but firing it would be like playing a game of Valhallan roulette. Alone.
His shirt now covered in blood he took the flamer back to the barricade.
OOC Edit: Ack, i hate it when i don't update the page before posting.
Eric looks around and sees the Sarge shouting. He also sees that they are about ten metres away from where they started. Glad that he is not the one in charge, he slings his broken flamer over his back and hangs around at the back of the unit until things work themselves out.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Jan 29, 2011 0:41:45 GMT -5
Eli snickered with glee from the Stubber, not hastily repacking as those around him were.
"Maybe ya shouldn't have put the idjit in charge," he says to no one in particular. Rustling through one of his pockets, he pulled out a multi-tool that was obviously well cared for, and began to pry up the stubber slowly and lovingly. It would definitely come in handy down the line, and it would a terrible waste not to bring it with them. Besides, Eli always did like stub weapons, preferring them to those nasty las weapons carried by so many others.
After a few minutes of work, he removed the emplacement from its location, and slung it over his back. Making a point of grabbing some ammo cases, he "acquired" the help from one his squad members to help him carry them up to the front.
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Post by Lord General Armstrong on Jan 29, 2011 22:13:05 GMT -5
OOC: Sorry my bad, jenburdoo thought you were describing the location we were heading to. Played to much Zork recently.
***
Alex looked around, "Um sorry sir." As he stopped for attention. "Just reinforcing your current position and looking for spare materials before we headed out. I'll begin to the next location immediately."
He put his hand on Eric's shoulder. "He's with the Emperor now, so lets get moving." Alex climbed over the improved barricades the squad just set up. And started down the narrow tunnel system. It would take about 20 minutes to get there on foot, so there was time to kill. He leaned over to the raggedy soldier named....Eli. "Now you don't think the Sarge is going to be pissed off that you took there main defensive weapon."
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Post by Trickstick on Jan 30, 2011 0:15:27 GMT -5
Eric sholders his rifle and starts towards the tunnel. He glances at Eli.
"Such a brazen attempt" he mutters to himself. "I mean, there is still a guy manning that stubber and everything."
Eric thought to himself that he will need to keep an eye on his possessions, lest they end up in Eli's pockets. Then he remembers that he doesn't have any possessions and a wave of remorse washes over him. He thinks of his wife and chilren and his eays started to moisten. Turning towards the tunnel he sets off into the darkness.
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Post by StillANoob on Jan 30, 2011 2:30:55 GMT -5
Cpl. Schrueder stayed towards the back of the squad, keeping an eye on the rear. Outwardly he was composed and vigilant, but his mind was seething.
'The first order is his first stuff up. What next? How many of us will die because of his mistakes?'
The first seeds of doubt were planted in his mind.
SaN
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Post by twerd on Jan 30, 2011 8:04:48 GMT -5
Too late for me to join too ?
Name: William Hardridge
Age: 21
Rank: Guardsmen, 57th Dreadner infantry regement
Equipment: Scrathed Flak Vest, Auogun with bayonet, watercan with water, watercan with fuel.
Description:
white, brown hair, three scars over his left eye, left eye is bionic
Hardridge was born on the Agriworld of Dreadner, Hardridge worked in the mills until he was 18 and then joined the Imperial guard as a way to leave his povery stricken honworld. upon completion of his Basic combat traing he applied to be a flamer specialist. After his first day of traing with flamers he banned from using them under any circumstances. The 57th Dreadner Infantry regiment was shipped to Armageddon and depolyed to Hive Helsreach but during the drop was attacked by Ork Aircraft 90% of the regiment died before thier drop ships had hit the ground during the confusion. Hardridge had been become seperated and is lost in the underhive zone.
RP:
He's legs hurt, he's arms hurt, just about everything hurt, Hardridge looked around the caverns were full of trash and smells hardridge didn't even know. He hated Armageddon it had taken the regiment with out trouble, the ork fight bombers came out of no where the drop ships caught out in the open were decimated. hardridge swore and knew it was no use now. No that wasn't the reason he hated hives they were too closed in nothing ike the fields Dreadner where you could see for kilometers around. The thought made him laugh, "That would be day i'd be able to see the orks then" Griping the lasgun he looked at the Aquila, then the powerguage half full. that made two and half clips left no food, one bottle o water and one bottle of fuel he found two days ago. He heard sounds in the distantance to his left as he peered left. he closed his' right eye. His left eye focused into the distance it's bionics clicking into heatvision as the image blurred and refined into slightly less of blur hardridge swore agian. His bionics had been damaged in the crash but he could see somthing was there but orks or humans, friend or foe. He's stomach growled. As he switched off the saftey he crouched low and advanced slowly
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