Difference between revisions of "Rush Marshal game"

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(PLOT 003 - The Rescued)
(PLOT 003 - The Rescued)
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The jump to hyperspace is uneventful, as is streaming back to the security and anonymity of the spacelane.
 
The jump to hyperspace is uneventful, as is streaming back to the security and anonymity of the spacelane.

Revision as of 23:20, 18 September 2018

Setting: post-AIF

Referee: RooK

Player(s): Dave - playing the 3-being crew of an escourt class corrival



SETTING

The normal AIF continuum has progressed for an additional 16x1010 seconds. Most of the old socio-political structures have been rendered into obscurity and myth, and have little to no bearing on anyone's current existence. Functionally, the same levels of technology exist, but with less cultural inertia from previous lower-technology eras. As such, the distinction between biological and mechanical constructs has been blurred by nanotechnology. Medic and technician skills are largely interchangeable (except that medics are more combat-capable). Biologists and physicists are similarly merged, other than aesthetic preferences. Mortal wounds no longer exist for any being with nanoscopic robots. Everything with nanoscopic robots heals at a minimum of 1 stamina per day - including robots, ships, and gear.

The story begins in a region of space called the "Disclosed Space", and it has been claimed by the Timoria Federacy as trade space. It exists as the interstitial systems between the 5 main member systems of Timoria Federacy (Timoria, Oleracea, Sproul, Hagen, and Galvan). While the main member systems have their own dedicated navies and police forces, they cooperate in a force of "Rush Marshals" to enforce profitable law and order for trade inside the Federacy and across Disclosed Space. The governments on the interstitial systems (for those that have them) have varying levels of involvement in law enforcement, but are all considered subordinate to the jurisdiction of the Rush Marshals.


CHARACTERS

BARNEYFREDBAM-BAM
OccupationsMover 3 Sharpshooter Striker / Technician
Notes• wings!
• the smart one
• highest innate awareness
• no turret die yet...
• a striker on a ship?
• is rather large (300 kg)

ESCOURT CLASS CORRIVAL - "PROCYON"

PROCYON
Size222cp
Stamina202
Shields188 manipulated
Combat Speed4km/turn²
Superluminal Speed1.5 P/h
Maneouverability2
Durability15
Weaponry7D6 150 km
EM range100 km
Etheric range0.1 parsec
Cargo2.2cp

tools (ship 2D) 1
patches (ship) 24
missiles (seeker +3 2D) 12
tactical nuke (20D 3km) 1
escape pod (2 tons) 1


PLOT 000 - One day in the void...

Yeah, I'll get to this. Really.


Clearly, I was being sarcastic.


2018.08.10 - Doughnut Of Doom

Most of the session was actually spent clarifying the underlying ideas of the Movement Rules testing, plus some reality-tweaking the game mechanics of how sensors work.

The crew of the Procyon set out on their initial cruise, and started by paralleling one of the major circumnavigation lates linking the ring of major Federacy systems. A distress call was passed along, and the Procyon responded to two medium-range fighters assaulting a large shuttle. A brief one-sided battle left the two fighters, and their pilots, as drifting ash. The shuttle provided a polite but curt thanks, and left hastily.


PLOT 001 - We Don't Need No Stinking Plot

Procyon: "So, were you guys all grown in adjacent vats? Or is this just some horrible case of a new trend in biological fashion? Or are your creators just old-school Scalzi fans?"


Procyon: "Talkative group. Let me interrupt your dense banter to suggest that we continue our cruise along this spacelane to make a pit stop at Oleracae. There we can purchase any individual items that might be needed. It doesn't seem like you were issued much."


Barney: "Might be difficult since we don't have any cash."

Fred: "Damn! We should have extorted those fools before we slagged them."

Bam-bam: "BAM! BAM!"


Procyon: "Yeah, I get an operational stipend that's meant to cover the necessities. And having my crew able to function is probably pretty necessary. Anything too expensive would have to be authorized, of course, but that's generally more along the lines of ship-scale items. What sort of gear do you think you might need?"


Barney: "Well, at the very least a rifle for Fred and a supply of patches. Maybe a sword for Bam-bam."

Bam-Bam: "Bam-BAM!"

Barney: "A club? Really?"

Bam-Bam: "Bam-BAM!"

Barney: "All right. All right. We'll get you a club."

Fred: "And if the budget allows, shields and move boots could be useful."


Procyon: "Would a 2D blast rifle be acceptable? I can get a deal on those. I assume that 20 patches each should be sufficient. Wouldn't Bam-Bam be able to simply make a blunt weapon? Clubs are not listed among the available inventory online. As for move boots... that's a bit pricey. Especially for Bam-Bam. Still, I would like the technician to be able to get to damaged areas quickly. And would everybody want shields? My discretionary budget would be completely blown with all three of you having even half-decent shields. And I'm not too keen on being broke already. We haven't even bribed anybody yet."

By plotting a course to Oleracae close to the main spacelane from Sproul, the Procyon can proceed with minimal disruptions and even daisy-chain communications to make arrangements in adavance.


Bam-Bam pulls out the club he would have obviously made already. "Bam-BAM!"

Fred: "I do NOT want to know where you pulled that from."

Barney: "Right... a 2D blast rifle for Fred. 20 patches each. Med/Tool kit each. Let's hold off on the shields for now and get Bam-bam some x2 move boots."


The Procyon pulls into into Oleracaean space, and is accompanied by a honour/paranoia guard fighter escourt to the system hub. A sprawling space station in orbit around a gas giant, the system hub houses the only large scale foldspace in the Federacy (usually inactive) and the premier centers for technical development in the Federacy. The Rush Marshal base, as with most of the main 5 systems, is co-located with their naval base. This affords a great deal of convenience to accommodate simple material requests. But the extremely high levels of security also make it unexciting. And what the Oleracaeans lack in a sense of adventure, they make up for by an even greater lack of culture. It's deadly levels of dull and boring, and even visiting makes the crew of the Procyon yearn for being cramped up in a small corrival again.

Procyon: "Egad. Those station AIs are so zarking smug. And the naval ships wouldn't even deign to acknowledge my existence. At least Timorian ships have enough class to be polite in their pompousness, even if they're not actually as cool as Sproulish ships. Let's get out of here. We should keep our inaugural cruise close to the main spacelane, so I guess we're heading to the Timorian system next."


2018.08.23 - Distributed Annoyance Array

  • heading vaguely towards Timoria
  • distress call from minor system
    • pirates in asteroid field
    • space trailer park
    • fighters 5 - 3 splutted, 2 skulk away
    • small hopper
    • ornery freighter

PLOT 002 - Timorian Space

Barney guides the Procyon back into the spacelane towards Timoria.

Procyon: "Soooo... are we turning our etheric beacon back on indicating that we are a Rush Marshal, or should we wait for 0.1 parsec so that the shuttle that asked for our help doesn't know that we just abandoned the scene?"


Let's just assume that the Procyon skulks further down the space lane with its telemetry beacon active. As the corrival gets within a couple parsecs of Timoria, another corrival jumps to hyperspace nearby and lights up its own Rush Marshal identity beacon and transmits its coded authentication.

"Hailing vessel Procyon claiming to be a Rush Marshal, this is Rush Marshal vessel Führung. Please transmit your authentication code."


Let's just assume that the Procyon skulks further down the space lane with its telemetry beacon active. As the corrival gets within a couple parsecs of Timoria, another corrival jumps to hyperspace nearby and lights up its own Rush Marshal identity beacon and transmits its coded authentication.

"Hailing vessel Procyon claiming to be a Rush Marshal, this is Rush Marshal vessel Führung. Please transmit your authentication code."


The Procyon gives the crew a raised-eyebrow emoji over the wiki before transmitting the authentication, just in case anybody wanted to be a smart-ass about it. "Greetings RMv Führung. Is there anything you want to appraise us of, or are you just being paranoid?"

Führung: "Please forgive our apparent brashness, Procyon - just following protocol. We did not recognize the designation."

Procyon: "Understood, Führung. This is a new crew on our inaugural cruise."

Führung: "Ah, so you do not necessarily intend to patrol this area. It is pretty dull here, with the Timorian Navy so frequently operating maneuvers. You should definitely check out the Marshal station in the Timoria system, though - it's quite pleasant."

Procyon: "Thanks Führung. Procyon out."

Procyon [wiki]: "They must be pretty bored to bother pinging us."


2018.09.13 - Yacht Of Doom

  • head past Timoria, onto Galvan
    • social media information about an ship being attacked
      • ...goes quiet after a short while
  • yacht with surly pilot and a murderous inclination
    • negotiations do not go well
    • find the punished freighter
    • get asses handed to them by the yacht goons
    • rescue 3 survivors from the wreck
    • FLEE

PLOT 003 - The Rescued

Procyon: "They look a little... unsavoury."

Indeed, the trio retrieved from the blasted freighter are filthy and have limited decorum. Although, hygiene and manners matter a lot less in a cargo hold.


Barney: "As your rescuers, we claim right of naming. From henceforth you will be known as Betty, Wilma, and Pebbles."

Bam-Bam: "Yeah, ignore him. Anyone need immediate medical attention?"


The member of the trio that you have talked to so far tilts back the faceplate of her exosuit. "Funny. Yeah, my compatriots here have some flash burns from the reflected heat of those nasty zarkers blasters ripping our ship apart. Corinn, Dequa - roll back the exosuits so that the Marshal's can see that we're not a threat and help us out."

The second one (meta-tagged as Corinn) pauses in its stream of swearing to retract its faceplate and peel back its exosuit to reveal a lack of significant weapons (just a simple blaster for modesty) and an abundance of crispy dermis. The third one (Dequa) seems hesitant then follows suit; it's somewhat less crispy.

Dequa: "But how did they know your name is Betty?"

Betty (apparently): "It doesn't matter. And Corinn? Stop trying to mask the tightbeam conversation with swearing. They can replay sensor logs in here and decode it eventually. Besides, it's not like we want to hope that the Akchani family is going to not try to kill us anyway."

Dequa looks horrified. Corinn: "They don't care about us. If we just lay low, they'll probably just forget about us - we're not worth it. But if we start making trouble, they'll hunt us down!"

Betty: "We're witnesses, and the Akchani don't leave witnesses. These Marshals are clearly not on their payroll, so even if they might not be able to take down any Akchani, they're at least in the same boat as us."

Corinn: "Literally. OK, fine. Marshals - we are getting the fuck out of here, yeah?"


Barney: "Yes, we're going to travel at sub-light for a while and then crank it to hyperspace."

Bam-Bam enters the cargo hold, smiles and heads over to Corinn with his med pack.

We travel at sublight in a random direction - though probably heading away from both the comet and battle. Wait until at least are shields are up to full and then jump to superluminal.


Aside: It appears that the extra line breaks are not needed within quotes for this version of wikimedia.

The jump to hyperspace is uneventful, as is streaming back to the security and anonymity of the spacelane.

Corinn is very still while Bam-Bam administers medical assistance. Without any personnel scale patches, it will take at least an hour to start addressing the 9 points of repair that Corinn needs. Dequa positions itself similarly to Corinn, to await similar attention. That it would be an hour of waiting adds to the air of submissiveness that exudes from them, faintly at odds with their surliness.

Betty: "OK, so where are we actually going?"