[DnD] Gamma World: Strange, yet symbolically compelling

6 Dice Rolls *d6 damage

Ed struggles to clear his head, but the blurry, menacing countenance of a bugbear filling his vision just panics him further. The mass of porkers crowding the entrance works against them as the Bobcat revs into motion; speedy retreat is impossible. Before he can even understand the situation, Ed is pulled under the hungry treads of the Bobcat E55 Compact Excavator (with tilt bucket). One of his underlings is crushed as well but somehow survives, which, if anything, is a bit worse.

22 damage to Ed and Marauder E5
Ed killed
Squeeze/Stonum/Slim are in the scoop, disembark to any adjacent square as part of your move.

With three out of reach in the scoop and Doc ensconced in the relative safety of the cockpit, the group is fairly safe for the moment. Except for Skittles. That's unfortunate.

Crawling out from under the treads, the badly wounded marauder makes no attempt to get to his feet. Rather, he just issues a tremendously foul belch, nauseating everyone nearby who is capable of nausea (that is to say, the other porkers don't even notice). Skittles, luckily, still has his enviromask on, but the hideous odor permeates the open cab of the Bobcat. Doc's rock-studded projectile vomit leaves a nasty crack in the Bobcat's windshield.

11 poison damage to Doc (dazed for one round)

Most of the other marauders are in no position to cause any harm, but Skittles still gets a nasty beating around his thorax.

7 physical damage to Skittles (-5 thanks to Ghostly)

Skittles, Stonum, Squeeze (KO), Marauders, Slim, Doc, Frankie

Battlemap

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Feeling a bit left out that he's the only one not on the Bobcat, Skittles decides a bit of self-preservation is in order.

Move action 1: Shift to F7
Move action 2: Move as far to the right as possible (it doesn't appear that F7 is actually adjacent to a wall, it's just where the current map ends).

I was speaking idiomatically.

2 Dice Rolls *ZZZZZWAMMO

As he is lifted up into the air by the BOBCAT's frontward apparatus, Stonum suddenly feels the EVERCLEAR start to come back with a vengeance. He struggles to stay standing, but the rancid smelling puke emitted by the marauder proves too much even for this radioactive dwarven stomach.

Stonum slowly bends his knee and starts sinking in the goop, and he lowers his head inside his armor to try and escape the stench. As he does so, what he had up until this moment thought was but a very fancy trash can lid he used as a hat connects to his torso cover and starts to emit a faint yet high-pitched noise. A few bleeps and bloops later, an odd looking lens is uncovered on the rim of the lid, and it begins to emit an intense burning light.

"We're gonna have a funky time" Laser attack vs. Marauder at B5
17+6 = 23 Vs. Reflex 13
Hit!
17+5+2 = 24 Damage to Marauder at B5

Stonum peeks slowly above his armor at the ground. He then nods approvingly at the results of his chance discovery.

Most amazing jew boots

3 Dice Rolls Athletics to stay on top

Despite the shabby treatment afforded to him by having his sloshy form heaved around in a shovel, Squeeze's condition seems fairly stable for the moment. It's only a matter of time, however, before he loses cohesion like so much leftover Jell-O, fit only to be poured down the sink.

(The vast majority of ancient foods have failed to endure the years since the Mistake, the occasional canned ham notwithstanding. Packages of Jell-O, however, have routinely been found completely intact and none the worse for wear. Whether this is a testament to Ancient preservation techniques or a working factory still exists is largely a matter of individual belief. Most Gamma Terrans lack refrigeration facilities, meaning that Jell-O is generally served as a hot soup.)

Squeeze's death save fail count: still at 1

Acting surely out of confidence that his allies had the situation in hand, and not merely out of craven cowardice, Skittles makes a tactical retreat toward the rear of the building.

Alas, the iron stomachs of the dwarves are only a legend these days, the soft food of Gamma Terra having spoiled them for the hearty food and drink they once enjoyed in the stone halls of Iregard Keep. Aye, it was a rare dwarf in this weak generation that could chase a dinner of fire beetle with a tankard of fermented bulette blood and keep it down. Shameful. But it is Stonum's queasiness that results in one of his porcine tormentors nearly being reduced to a cinder. Indeed, nausea had not produced such glory in battle since Stonum's great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather once drowned an entire army of invading pixies purely by accident.

B5 Marauder bloodied (to say the least)

"You killed Ed!", Frankie exclaims, looking more inconvenienced than saddened. "He's irreplaceable, Ed is. We replaced him six times already! Where am I gonna get another Ed? Out of this lot? Not likely!"

He mulls on it for a moment, coming to an inescapable conclusion.

"Aw, hell. I'm gonna have to be Ed." And so it was. Happily, Frankies were somewhat easier to replace.

Ed VIII clambers onto the Bobcat, swinging his chain in hopes of wounding the relatively small portion of Doc that wasn't behind a plexiglass shield. The effort is futile. Worse, Ed VIII fails to keep his footing atop the moving Bobcat (albeit very slowly moving). He tumbles to the floor.

Ed VIII accomplishes fuck-all, ends up prone. Yay.

Slim, Doc, Marauders, Skittles, Stonum, Squeeze (KO), Ed VIII

Battlemap

FELIPE NO

2 Dice Rolls ATTACK

Move Action: FLYING LEAP out of the Bucket to D5
Acrobatics: 16-2 = 14!
ATTACK - Predatory Eye: On Ed VIII (D5)
3+3+1 = 7 VS AC16 ...but he's prone so AC-4, still f(l)ail
Damage: (none, unless my awesomeness warrants a point of damage)

Slim rises bravely from the Bucket, jumping high into the air, readying the Wrinklefucker for a crushing blow to Ed VIII... Something in the air (a bird? a plane? A BIRDPLANE?) distracts him and causes him to completely miscalculate him jump. Slim smashes his hammer into the floor beside Ed VIII, but lands elbow-first on him, and rolls over into (the next square).

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

3 Dice Rolls Come ooooon damage

Doc erupts with a gravelly cackle as he wipes his pebbly breakfast off of the dashboard, overcome by the exhilaration of grinding his foes into bacon and other delicious pork products 'twixt the whirring gears and spinning treads that propelled him forward. Not overcome enough, however, to keep from continuing the satisfying crushery.

His brows knit together with a peculiar grating sound and he stomps on the accelerator, barreling out the door and destroying everything in his path. Taking a sharp left, he heads south into the gaggle of oinkers, diverting his attention briefly back inside the building to take over the wounded pig and... apparently make him punch himself in the face and jump a few feet over, or something (seriously, what does temporary possession even do anyway?).


Move: Drive left 2 and down 2, ending at B6-C7. Also, uh, try not to run over Slim, wherever he ended up.
Targets: D5, C5, B5, C6.
Crush damage: 22.

YouTube Video

Standard: Temporary Possession on F5, If I can reasonably do this out the window after I turn south, or something.
Attack: 15 + 1 + 3 = 19.
Damage: 4 + 3 + 1 = 8. Slides to I5 and knocked prone.



If my trajectory is such that I can end my turn with the Bobcat's bucket inside through the window, over D6, that'd be peachy. If not, no worries.


Jam it back in, in the dark.

5 Dice Rolls marauder d6 vs Slim

Doc revs the Bobcat into — well, the Bobcat doesn't really have a high gear, but he leans forward in the cab and makes vroom-vroom noises, so it's like it's going faster. A throng of porkers is crushed under his merciless treads. There are not enough bacon puns in the world to describe the carnage.

B5 killed. C5, C6, D6 bloodied & prone. Well, Ed VIII was already prone but shut up, you

Pulling the stick hard to the left, Doc barrels over a few more pigs before doing a complete 180 and plunging the shovel arm back into the building. He ignores the porker just before him, however, briefly sending forth his murderous will toward an enemy across the room that was sluggishly crawling toward Slim's back. The porker's face was not prepared to cope with his own brass knuckles, and he slumps motionless with his fist buried wrist-deep in his snout.

Clarified the language on the possession power a little, you only get to do one of the three things. Killed him either way, so meh.

The bravado of the remaining porkers is rapidly dissipating. Most of the survivors are grievously wounded, unlikely to survive long even if the battle is won. They have nothing left to lose, and most of them are content to vent their fury on poor Slim, who was having a reasonably nice day before these translucent yahoos and their dwarf showed up. Good thing he's smart enough to back away slightly when a legless pig tries to punch him in the shins.

FFFFF ignore the warhog rolls I'm a jackass
Jack shit accomplished marauder-wise

Skittles, Stonum, Squeeze (KO), Ed VIII, Slim, Doc, Marauders

Battlemap

Most amazing jew boots

2 Dice Rolls *Acid ahoy

Marveling at the carnage, Skittles sees a chance to jump into the fray once more.

Move to F6

17+3+1=21 vs 16 Fort
Damage: 4+3+2=9 plus pushback to D6

"Do you pigs not know of my lineage? My father fought in the Great Swine Rebellion, and was known far and wide. Fear me, for I am the Son of Baconator!" Skittles launches another salvo of acid onto the nearest Marauder, causing him to fall back screaming in pain.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

1 Die Roll Goop

Stonum was unpleased. The Golem wasn't the world's greatest tread-climber pilot. He had a headache, and he was knee deep in some sort of cohesive...yogurt.

Fuck this.

He reaches down and grabs the goo with both big, glowing mitts.

Grab Squeeze's...uhh...corpse...pudding...thing

NOW IT IS TIME FOR...DWARVEN PIZZA ARTS

YouTube Video

Oh yeah work it, what now.

Tossing the jello carcass about until it was nice, thin, and flat, with the flick of a finger, he let it fly over the edge of the bucket.

Throw slime all over nearest prone pig.

Gripping the sides of the bucket while looking over the edge, DROWN IN THIS SHIT YOU ASSHOLE was about the most eloquent thing he could think of.

Pig D6 drowns in blob carcass.
18 has got to be good for something

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

4 Dice Rolls *MUTATION!

As the pigs drown in acid and.... thicker, technically sentient acid, Ed VIII makes a command decision.

"You! Hey, you! You're Frankie now! Wear the mantle of Frankie proudly, as did I and the Frankies before me!"

And so, with both an Ed and a Frankie, the gang remains intact. As long as this tradition is kept, the dark days following the Baconator Incident will never recur. They flee, leaving behind three of their impressively-maintained choppers and about 500 kilos of fresh pork. The Battle of Fort Bobcat is won!

VICTORY GET! 170 XP each. HP restored. Both Omega items used in battle retain functionality (dang). Mutation updates incoming ASAP.

Doc's new mutation: FAST HEALING (Ffffuuuuu—)
Skittles' new mutation: NARCOLEPSY
Squeeze's new mutation: ADRENAL RAGE
Stonum's new mutation: ACCELERATED CLAW
Slim's new mutation: INHABIT CORPSE


I was speaking idiomatically.

The doctor always thought he looked smart in a motorcycle helmet. Not smart like a doctor smart. The other kind. The kind that makes female, uh, ghost rocks, walk over and talk to you. He'd have to remember to ask Squeeze later how he did it. Doc had never been great with the lady-rocks. In any case, he thought about how great it would be if one of the pigs had left a nice-looking motorcycle helmet behind.

Choose your own adventure!

If there was a motorcycle helmet left behind, go to page 3! If there was not a motorcycle helmet left behind, go to page 51!

















Page 3:
Doc picks up the helmet, wiping a bit of the dust off of it and placing it upon his head. He does up the chin strap and smiles contently.





















Page 51:


What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

HELMET ACQUIRED

+1 TO HELMETS

FELIPE NO

Skittles is sad because the helmets have no antenae holes. Then he remembers he's in a post apocolyptic wasteland, and bike safety is very low on his list of concerns.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

The dwarf slowly starts climbing out of the bucket, muttering under his voice at the Doc for leaving him hanging. He slowly slides down the shaft arm of the BOBCAT, and lands on the cab none too gracefully. As he finally gets to the ground, he decides to search the pig remains for anything that might be valuable to the group on their quest, whether currency, trinkets, or weaponry.

GIMME LOOTANS

He then tries to figure out a way to siphon the remaining fuel from the BOBCAT, since there is no point in leaving it there if they are headed away from this place.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Stonum rifles through the belongings of the deceased porkers, finding:

5 badly tattered sets of road leathers
3 rusty chains
2 bent tire irons

and the following Ancient Junk:

1 brand-new license plate from the state of "New Texaco" (motto: "We put the bomp.")
1 plastic packet labelled "Radiation Suit Repair Kit", including dozens of small rubber patches but no adhesive.
1 immaculately polished adjustable crescent wrench, neatly broken in half lengthwise.

Lacking a hose or any kind of pump, it's difficult to see how Stonum can get the fuel of out of the Bobcat. Maybe if he poured something else in to displace the gas. Also, some kind of bucket might be helpful. Or a mop. In a pinch.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Squeeze slowly reconstitutes himself into his customary form. "Mmmmm... so gooooooood. Can't remember the last time doing it knocked me out cold, mmmmhmmmm."

Search the premises for cigarettes.
Eat the license plate.
Take a chain and bent iron to reinforce the cowboy boot later on.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Stonum, in his drunken stupor, forgot the whole reason the gang broke into the Bobcat building in the first place was to get a Bobcat. Skittles reminds him of this, from a distance, just in case Stonum is an angry drunk.

Open radiation suit patches
Rub them against Squeeze to get them super sticky
Apply to various parts of my body

"Yay, stickers!"


"So guys, are we ready to roll out?"

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

1 Die Roll VROOM!

Andy has already decided to try his hand at piloting around one of the tiny vehicles and climbs aboard.


Mechanics: Turn this mother on and avoid crashing!
13 - 1 = 12


I was speaking idiomatically.

Seeing that his compatriots have already rifled through the pigs equipment, Stonum satisfies himself with grabbing the adjustable wrench. Though it may be in bad shape, it could come in handy if the wagon were to give him trouble as it has many a time in the past. He yells out to Squeeze:

"Hey Jelly-o, found some nice leather and chains for your next party!"

And with that, he gets into his autowagon and turns it on, ready to head out.

Most amazing jew boots

1 Die Roll Mechanics

Skittles hops aboard a second bike and starts the engine.

Mechanics (if necessary): 18+2=20

FELIPE NO

Cigarettes are "available", but they are, unfortunately, ensconced (like nearly everything else in the manager's office) inside the orange jelly. Though Squeeze shakes a pseudopod in anger at the offending blob, he knows he will have revenge of a sort when the jelly can no longer sustain his... one, two, three... 17 pack a day habit. Truly, watching your enemies sink into a miserable black hole of addiction is the best revenge. Also, living well. But mostly the first thing.

The license plate tastes of flop sweat and cow hair. Squeeze experiences a brief and unpleasant impulse to secede from the group and go his own way just to show these weak-kneed nancy boys how goddamn tough he is, but it passes. A vague desire to not be Messed With remains.

Most of the group gets behind the wheel of some vehicle or another, encountering no particular issue. The porkers' bikes should have enough fuel to carry them a little further, anyway. Skittles waits for the rest to saddle up, whiling away the time by festooning his body with black rubber squares. If they need to break into a checkerboard factory, his camouflage will be perfect.

It's 24 miles to Enver, they've got a quarter of a tank of gas, it's 3 PM, and he's wearing night vision goggles. Hit it.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Doc shuts off the bike, kicking down the stand. "Well, gentlem-creatures, shall we begin our journey?" Doc pauses, remembering that they now numbered one more than they did in the beginning. He walks in the direction of Slim.

"Hello, um, bear. We're traveling to Enver." He offers his hand for a shake.

"Sorry about the windows. And the, uh, crashing. You know. Not really used to driving one of those things." He trails off, muttering something about how he's normally a better pilot. "Anyway, you're welcome to join us if you like. Least we could do, after we upset your living situation. With the, uh, destroying. And the noise. Also we intended to steal your wagon, sorry 'bout that. Didn't realize that this place was occupied. Also you have an amorphous translucent visitor devouring your home. Thought you should probably know about that."

"So, uh, right then." He returns to the motorcycle.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"Friends, I too am ready to head out. To Enver, I suppose, but I propose that we stop at any and all pleasure houses along the way, should we be fortunate enough to find them." Squeeze takes a set of leathers, manipulates the license plate inside his body into a prominent location just inside his chest, and slithers onto a bike.

If Squeeze is otherwise unusually quiet, it is because he has things to think about. Deep thoughts. For example, he has this hazy memory of being kneaded and manipulated by the dwarf. What could this mean. He needs to think about this slowly and in great detail.

Well, he will have time to ponder this. The feeling of being on the open road, wind blowing through his cilia. Something to look forward to.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The bugbear stands expressionless in the blood-splattered ruin of his home, perhaps in some kind of shock. Perhaps best to leave him alone. If he felt like coming along he could catch up by following the trail of destruction.

Guess we'll find out if Sousuke's still paying attention, he can write himself in again if he wants I suppose. If we don't hear from him in a few more days I'll slot someone else in.

The voyage north through the rest of Paaka is relatively uneventful, despite Squeeze pouting when the rest of the group refuses to make a detour to the old police station for "extra handcuffs, just in case". Only after making the circuitous turn off Sparker Road (named, presumably, for all the old power lines strewn across it) onto the 470 do complications arise. The highway into Enver is blocked off completely by a heaped-up pile of old wagons. Long-limbed, gangly figures crawl out of the tangled mass of rusty wreckage, brandishing an assortment of bows and spears; their finer features are hard to identify in the encroaching dusk. A dull green road sign is erected over the heap, identifying the 470 as a "TROLL ROAD" (the "R" is sloppily tacked on with orange spray-paint).

"Eh, you there!" shouts one of the boney figures, his voice tinged with a strange accent. "Would you like to get past here? Well, you can't! We won't let you!"

There is a long silence as Stonum exchanges some puzzled glances with the rest of his convoy. At length, a second voice pipes up from the roadblock.

"You mad?"

The roadblock residents break out into a chorus of giggles. Stonum recognized those giggles. Only one sort of creature giggled in that particularly blood-boiling way, nipping at an ancestral grudge even through the thick armor of his continued severe inebriation.

Elves!

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

1 Die Roll Run run run as fast as you can

Slim finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor and snaps out of his shocked stupor. Surrounded by shattered glass, splinters of wood, some machinery, and a sick sludging sound, he blinks a few times and steps outside.

Passive Insight/Perception = 15, so I SHOULD know the direction to Enver? Along with these tire treads...

Spoiler:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!

...is the only thing you can hear as Slim bursts into a full fun, following the trail left behind by the group of misfits that helped destroy his home. It takes him a while, but (presumably) he catches up with the group, stops screaming, and catches his breath.

If such a thing is needed...
Athletics: 14+4 = 18

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?