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The Great War rages! And in the fiery skies above the continent of Atlesia, and Age of Heroes dawns...

>You are Stanislaw Krol, an Ace pilot in service to Sturmwing Chimera of the Fliegermacht! Dubbed, The Bloody Red Angel! Last time, you uprooted a nest of rebels. But the true test now comes...will you be found wanting?

For first few threads(my greatest apologies on not knowing how to archive at this point)
For newer ones

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>10 autofail
>Bogey 3 defeated! Bogey 4 Flees....
Today just isn't your day.


The machine gun spits fire, but true to you run of bad aim, you miss. Shit, what is with you today! The rain maybe? In any case, you bullets fire past the Fonck.

Sergei has better luck. His own bullets pepper the tail of the enemy craft, which seems to veer away in defensive fashion. Then a spark of orange flame and black smoke catches your eye.

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>Maybe the unhinged enemy ace with psychic powers isn't at the decisive battle for his area. >After all, it's not like thunderstorms like the one we're in are his squadron's preferred hunting ground and manifest out of nowhere each time he attacks, right ?
>I'm sure it's fine.

Come on Stanislaw. You know better.
Rolled 89 (1d100)



Yet...you scan the skies above. The rain washes down on your face, but there is something foreboding about those clouds. They were dark as all storm clouds were...you shake your head.

Was it unlucky that Foudre were so associated with this weather? You frown.

No way. That was just superstitious non--

And it was at about that moment that the real battle began...

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I completely acknowledge how cheesy this boss stage is. But on the other hand, Boucher is a cheesy villain himself so I found it fitting. :)

Because you know you can never have enough psychotic laughing
I'm aware of the cheesiness of this quest, and Boucher in particular.

Ever since that time where his squad turned into the aerial version of the power rangers and started yelling out attacks on general frequency while flying in formation, complete with edgy nightcore blaring in the background, I knew we were fighting an anime villain. I half expected a flying Megazord at one point, too.

If we're still here after that, then we don't mind the cheese, QM.
Said animu cheese demands we challenge Boucher, but I personally want to try and talk to the Phantom again. See what happens.

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There is a sudden clash. Sounds of metal, swung at break-neck speeds. Two brothers, Descendants, of the demon lord Sparda. They fight in perpetual advancing, diving with every ounce of their being to drive blades into flesh. The rain pours upon them, and their blades meet again, bringing a bright flash...

Demon blood flows through your veins. You descend from something evil; from the darkest pits of hell. Do you follow justice, Halfbreed?

Do you forsake the name of Sparda?



Welcome to Fortuna, Son of Sparda!
You have the choice to assume the role of being hell's descendent. The hoardes of hell thirst for your blood, and will slay you on sight! A great demon lord, Mundus, broods brumously within the horizon...
The first roll of the thread will determine the main character!

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Rolled 3 (1d4)

Makes sense. Glad to see you back!
Rolled 2 (1d4)

Rolled 2 (1d4)

Rolled 4 (1d4)


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You are Jarson Physeter,second born son of Hectar Physeter the Lord of Boulder island. Your family is sworn to the Farwynds of the Lonely Light, the westernmost region of the Iron Islands, far into the Sunset Sea. You are a skinchanger and currently 15 years old.The year is 294 AC

Last thread you cemented a trade deal with Lord Sebaston Farman of Fair Isle, had a romantic not-date with a mischievous bastard girl and rescued your kidnapped little sister.It was a busy day. Now you are sailing to Lannisport while still recovering from wounds suffered during the rescue operation.

House Physeter living members:

- Hectar, father ,48 years
- Lexia, mother, 37 years
- Jafir, brother, 17 years
- Jarson(you), 15 years
- Leah, sister, 14 years

- Rodwin Pyke, bastard cousin, 21 years

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I still feel like we're underprepared for the viper's den we're about to sail into, best to chat up with our boy and absorb as much wisdom as we can

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Humankind has taken to the stars. We are looking for God.

Ruled only by the Great Pharaoh; the living embodiment of God in flesh; all of human kind live underneath the great feudal system- the three estates of Church, Nobility, and Commoners put rank to all men. In the infinite worlds of human conquest, celestial bodies and their millions of inhabitants are assigned under great Star-Dukes, further divided among the Planet and Moon-Counts, and under them still are the Barons- landowners who posess entire continents in their fiefs. You will soon be born to a Land Baron and will inherit a title of lesser nobility; almost nothing when compared with great Pharaoh, but a world above the commoners and serfs who will toil in that alien planet.

Despite the invention of faster then light travel, the great diversity of human race and power, and the many other devices that grant great strength to those who make war; two inventions are the most pivotal. First is the Energy Ray, a weapon that can destroy any living thing in a fiery burst that makes slaughter easy. And second; the Energy Shield, a thing that counters the Energy Ray so strongly that the user of an Energy Ray will themselves die in an atomic blast if they dare fire it at whoever is shielded. With these inventions; warfare between these noble, ambitious men are now decided by sword, knife, poison, and treachery. Only the slow blade may pierce a shield.

Our tiny, tiny view into this vast and enermous experience of human endeavor takes place on one lonely little planet- Lacrolla.
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Been kind of busy lately, sorry for a lame excuse. I'll get on it soon.
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You have decided not to accuse anyone of anything- moreso, you deny the claims of a falseflag attack by House Yohan. You don't want or need to make any enemies.

As a neutral house in charge of such an important resource, you know you're essentially immune to such minor leverage. While this doesn't stop a direct attack or attempted coup of your fief- the resulting damage of even a short disabling of the weather control device would be catastrophic for any house's farming or industry. Which is once again why it is questionable any house would attack you as they did.

You leave the council without a strong stance in any direction. It's nice to finally get away from all these backstabbers. You allow House Blachet and House Orienza to stew, though you withdraw any complaints or accusations you might have made about House Orienza in the meantime as the thought of it being an intentional fake attack becomes more obvious.

Once you return home- you find out a sealed scroll canister has been sent. Official mail. And within it... a marriage proposal. To a daughter of House Yohan. To anyone else, auspicious. To you? A sudden complexity added to your intrigue.

However, the way this proposal is written makes it very difficult to outright deny, pressing upon ancient treaties that secure your southern border lands, the only place your fief can reliably farm food- as the rest of your artic fiefdom is too cold. On top of this, it is almost as thought Baron Yohan wrote this request to quell any suspicions of expansionism; this daughter, named Mia, is too low-born to act as a real claim against your House.

You... can't deny this. You need a wife anyway, if you are one day going to have a noble heir to your House. Too much inbreeding with the commoners on your fief will lead to claims of your nobility by other houses- and in general lower your standing.

But the question is, with the current political climate, what sort of marriage ceremony should be held?
>Totally private- may cause doubts on its legitimacy
>High security, but a normal ceremony
>High security, but a normal ceremony
It is better to show we're not scared or possibly illegitimate. Also, good to have another update.
>Totally private- may cause doubts on its legitimacy

In this quest you play as Wade Wakeman, a 17 year old boy with a heart of gold and the wielder of the Omnitrix! This story is being told in an alternate universe, in which there are no longer any remaining Tennysons. Characters from earlier seasons will appear, but not always in a way that you’d expect.


Last time: Wade, Wendy and Verdona decided to go on a journey through Wendy's memories. However, escaping her dark past is another matter entirely. Now, Wade must piece together his sister's fractured psyche, investigate an inconsistency in her memories, and hopefully bring her some peace of mind.

Most dice rolls will be 1d100. Modifiers will be added depending on the situation or on the alien being used(Usually +10 or -10). Crit successes and crit fails apply. Crit fails can be overridden by crit successes, but crit failures cannot override crit successes.

How to Roll:
To roll dice, type “dice+1d100” in the options field without the quotations. To roll dice with positive modifiers, type “dice+1d100+modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number. To roll dice with negative modifiers, type “dice+1d100+-modifier number” in the options field without quotations, and with an actual modifier number.

Aliens Unlocked:

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Struggling to catch her breath, Wendy willed herself to move towards the collapsed form of the Mechamorph. She didn’t have the time to befriend it or explain the situation. All she could do was make contact and pray that it latched on and played along with her plan without arguing.

Touching her artificial hand to the cool, viscous metallic surface of the creature, she nearly flinched back out of sheer reflex when it started crawling up her arm. It was an uncomfortable feeling for sure. Like some sort of sentient syrup was inching its way through her veins, in the hope of possessing her body.

Well, at least it was integrating into her prosthetic without issue. That showed signs of acceptance and unabashed curiosity. Or perhaps the creature had been fully aware of the situation that was unfolding, and had been acting out of sheer survival instinct.

Either way, Wendy didn’t care. So long as he played his part, both of them would make it out of this alive. And as to how she knew that it was a “he”, Wendy had no answer. It was possible that the Mechamorph might have worked his way to the chip implanted in her brain. If that were the case, then they would be bonded on a much deeper, and more intimate level than Wendy would have preferred.

Just then, a faint whooshing sound filled Wendy’s ears, followed by delicate footfalls approaching her with caution.

“Give it up. There’s nowhere left for you to run.” Xylene proposed. “Did you and that Anodite really think that you could steal the most powerful weapon in the galaxy and get away with it?”

Wendy cocked an eyebrow and turned her head slightly.

“Anodite”? Wendy didn’t know any Andoites on a personal level. If she did, then she sure wouldn’t be stuck in this shitty situation.

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And in the blink of an eye, Wendy’s arm exponentially increased in size, seemingly growing new parts out of nowhere as the Mechamorph made a few last minute modifications. The arm was now comparable to one of Rex’s Smack Hands, growing to be at least as tall as Wendy and twice as wide.

Xylene attempted to deflect the attack with a hastily crafted energy barrier, but it proved to be no match against Wendy’s fist, as it punched straight through the bubble and sent the Uxorite flying!

Her bones cracking under the sheer weight of the attack, Xylene flew into a nearby pile of crates, becoming buried within them as they toppled and cracked open.

It took Wendy a few seconds to realize that a crowd was gathering around the docking yard now. She could barely hear the murmurs over the sound of her own shuddering breaths and pounding heartbeat. Sensing her inner turmoil, the Mechamorph returned her arm to a normal size and popped its head out to inquire about her condition. To Wendy, it sounded like a series of dull chirps and beeps. But somehow, she understood exactly what it said. It must have been a product of their newfound symbiotic relationship.

“Yeah, just peachy…” she sarcastically retorted, immediately feeling bad for mouthing off to her savior. “But...that was pretty kick-ass.” she admitted with a wry grin.

The Mechamorph responded with another series of unintelligible chirps and beeps. It was almost like talking with Ship. You had no idea how Julie could manage it.

Suddenly, a rift was torn open right next to you, revealing two glowing figures moving around on the other side. And when they emerged...you were relieved to see that it was Wendy and Verdona! The real ones this time!

“Holy shit…” Wendy gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “What the hell just happened…!?”

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>>>”Some guy called ‘Kenny’ showed up and I started experiencing his memories instead.”
>”Some guy called ‘Kenny’ showed up and I started experiencing his memories instead.”
>”Where were you this whole time?”

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Welcome to the Astral Observatory!

You are a child within the bustling city of Clock Town. But you're not just anybody, you are an official member of the Bombers Secret Society of Justice! Your goal is to protect order within the town, as your sacred duty as a Bomber. Your secret base of operations is the Observatory below ground. You must ease the town's troubles before the Carnival.
You will be given several tasks to complete, some challenges using a d6 roll for success. Each poster can respond to each challenge by rolling dice or roleplaying as well, which is something I encourage.

Three Days Remain.

Do you accept your duty as a Bomber?
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Hooh! Hah!
You're hot! You're red hot!
You're on fire!
Can you keep up? Come on!!

>Roll 2D6!
>2 and below strikes out!
Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d6)

Heck yeah I am!!
Oh no I’m not
Rolled 5, 6, 2, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2 = 20 (8d6)


Catch the fairy!

Left , right, spin around and do it again!

Finding ALL The cuccos!
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That's too bad! Many have the fire, but you must relentlessly pursue your passions, 'dancing until dawn', so to speak!
A Bomber you shall be.
Catch the fairy!
>Your feet shift as you hold steady on a high box, looking with determination towards the sprite. You make a leap-!
>...Just short.
Let's dance all night!
Woo! Yeah! Baby!!
...That's a shame. Try until your legs give out!! Hooh! Smokin'!
Help us catch them!

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Pandora. The Vaults. The Corporations.

But this is not a tale Marcus would tell you, and these are not the characters you remember.

You will take the role of one of two characters, to decide the fate of them, their corporations, and Pandora itself.

A. Admiral Mikey/ATLAS - You can't understand it, and yet, today you suddenly woke up SMART. As in, your are confident your inner monologue reflects that of at least a young adult when yesterday you were struggling with four syllable words, you are capable of basic algebra when you were before trying to figure out how math wasn't magic, and now you actually comprehend all the terrible things your advisors are telling you are happening to the Atlas Corporation and the Crimson Lance. The things YOU caused. You are the last of your illustrious bloodline, The Admiral of the Crimson Lance, and the de-facto CEO of the company blessed by very gods.

And you are also five years old.

Your heritage burns around you, your generals threaten to mutiny, and your rival corporations smell blood in the void. Can you wrest the Atlas Corporation back from the brink of Tartarus?

B. Jack/HYPERION - You feel different this morning. Everything feels different, in a way you can't describe completely, but in small parts. You still love your daughter, you still want to protect her, and you still desire to rise among the Hyperion corporate ranks and change the world.

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I'll back this.
Locked. Writing

I will update with at least two votes. If need be, I will update even with one vote.
Thetis listens as you recount in full details the time when you had to be rescued by her from wild Ratches near the HQ sewers. If it were you from yesterday, you would probably have said something along the lines of "Talos punched the scary bugs and made them flat" but today you find your new tongue saying such things as "Talos started bisecting with his laser eye but many more swarmed him. But there was a bright flash and blast, and a splatter and wings and bug gore, from the explosive rounds of your shotgun. It made the rest scatter". She made you swear never to do such a crazy stunt again and most of all to never tell anyone else of it. You even tell her she made you three hot chocolates with whipped cream and two grilled cheeses with the crust cut once you returned home.

As you finish, it dawns on her it really is you.

"Mikey. . .it really is you isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. I swear it."

"What happened to you?. Yesterday when asked about your plans for the future, you said you wanted more crayons and pencils. Now you care about the company?"

"I feel changed. I can't explain it. But I know. By the gods, now I know. This company. My fathers company, the armies he entrusted me before his. . .passing. What's happening! I think about all those orders I made in fucking glue and sparkles and I dread to think of the results."

"Don't swear" Thetis said sternly. You gulp all of a sudden, "Y-yes Thetis. Sorry."

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You sit down, your frown growing, and steel yourself as she tells you disaster after disaster. You the instinct to just push all these thoughts away and go play a nice game and not care, but you can now see how short sighted that would be.

"To put it bluntly, with the exception of 1st Starbourne Brigade "Promethea", we are losing command and control of the Crimson Lance. Most of the brigades maintain the general interests of the company and give lip service to us, given that we are supplying at least some of them with arms, supplies and recruits in exchange for protection of our assets. But whether or not they are still "our" assets is another question, as the Brigade commanders have likened to "commandeering" the various planets under their jurisdiction.

All except the 3rd, Knoxx's brigade, currently on Pandora and which has outright cut off communications from us entirely.

As for the rest:
2nd Brigade - Presumed Lost in Space, last sent on an expedition to a different Galaxy to try and set up a branch of Atlas
4th Brigade - Currently occupying Elysia 7. Non-compliant with orders and quotas for some time now.
5th Brigade - Locked in a struggle with Dahl Mercenaries on Tantalus
6th Brigade - Presumed Lost/Destroyed searching for Eridian technology on Valhalla 3
7th Brigade - Occupying the Atlas sector of Capital One
8th Brigade - Suppressing dissidence on Haephestus 5
9th Brigade - Occupying territory in the Southern Galactic edge. Status unknown"

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>>Perhaps inspect the 1st Starbourne Brigade. Meet up with its General, let them know you are a changed Admiral

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Continuing from this game: >>4860989
Read the rules: https://pastebin.com/hQMZiGUM.
How to play: https://pastebin.com/ehJnx9SL

The dice you put in the "options" box is:

>What is /conqst/?
/conqst/ is a 4Chan story-telling game that is just like Risk but allows you to have more freedom in defining your civilization. By joining this game, you are constantly involved with the drastic changes of the global story through events, new civilizations, strong national strategies, and diplomacy.

>Can I join/Stop playing?
Yes and yes! Read the how to play guide. If there isn't any free territory (shaded in white), some players may be nice enough to give you land or allocate a puppet state. If not, then you could wait until the next game (or when I kick out inactive players). If you want to stop playing, just either let me know or stop going to this thread.

>How hard is it to learn how to play this game?
Not too hard. You start with 5 territories as one nation, expand until you can't expand, and choose to either attack, fortify, or defend. Plain and simple. You also get +1 attack and +1 defense for every certain amount of territories you own, and gain National Strength (NS) and gold every roll. The how to play guide covers more on all of this.
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Rolled 2 (1d10)

Attack the Serenity Co-op land in Louisiana.
>You know, I was content to let those fuckers rot away, but I might actually allow you to keep them alive if this proves fruitful. We do request you attempt to obtain an egg whenever possible when the population levels recover from the "little to no food coming in due to rightfully scared at the time gun runners keeping the border up" dealo.
We will, most generous and brave merchant lord.
>Less so for weapons (let's be honest I don't want to repeat the mistake the Shi have done) and moreso for...well, domestication? If deathclaws can be tamed, they could potentially protect you from outside threats. We have a metric fuckton of caps pouring it at all times so we can probably buy our way to immortality given enough time but you don't have that luxury.
The Flower Tribe very well may not survive. This was not a world meant for gentle things.
Gentleness died a long time ago. But you can still stay true to your principals while keeping yourself safe. What's that old saying from over 300 years ago now? Speak softly and carry a big stick? You can guess what the big stick is in this quote. We can transfer over some food that a vault we owned makes (along with some from local farms) to help the effort of you trying to keep them alive.
Thank you, most generous and kind merchant lord. Your compassion will never be forgotten.
Fortify the +5 into a +6.

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It has been eight years since the fall of Alterac, after the king Aiden Perenolde betrayed the Alliance and sided with the Horde of Orgrim Doomhammer. For this betrayal, king Aiden Perenolde was dethroned and Alterac City was sacked. The nobles and population fled the land and the Kingdom of Alterac was no more.

You are Alric Perenolde, the prince and second heir of Alterac. By the order of king Aiden, you were sent into temporary exile to be safe from the Second War. This exile turned permanent and Captain Normand Garside, your guardian for the past eight years, made sure that you were safe and learned the useful skills that would help you in the future.

Now eight years later in the year 14 after the opening of the Dark Portal, you are ready to take the responsibility and try to unite the scattered Alteraci people and reclaim the lands that were once the Kingdom of Alterac.

Having dealt with some minor problems at home, you had been invited back to Durnholde Keep to be a guest of Lord Blackmoore for he had a proposition for you. In Durnholde you gained an informant and trader in Kris Legace, beat Thrall the orc gladiator in a sparring fight before you agreed on the proposition. When spring arrives you are to deliver soldiers to guard the Internment Camps for a nice sum of wealth.

But by providing the troops, your inevitable push into Alterac will most likely have to be moved for later. You now just hope that the deal is worth it in the long run. The winter will continue and you are one step closer ro reclaiming the lands your people have lost.

Welcome to Alterac Resurgent Quest!

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedivhQM

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>>Scout South-Western Alterac Mountains first.

On one hand I'm rather interested in what intel scouting gallows' would yield, especially given what we know from Kris. But on the other hand it would probably be a waste to not take advantage of the window of opportunity to scout the mountains now, especially figuring out whether Ogres might conduct a counterattack through the region if they decide to launch one should we take the road to Strahnbrad.

>Scout South-Western Alterac Mountains first.
Just the general layout and what kind of terrain to expect. Legace tried to avoid spending too much time around Gallow’s Corner after all.
Gotcha, then I'll say
>Scout South-Western Alterac Mountains first.
Because we're probably going to scout both if we can instead of doing any invasion. Also because I get the feeling the Syndicate is likely based just east of there across the river and I don't think getting sandwitched between ogres and bandits is a good idea
>>Scout South-Western Alterac Mountains first.

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Your head hurts, your slowly open up as you groan from the throbbing headache, you realize you're laying on the ground, it's cold and hard, you push yourself up, your thumbs are tingling, why? You shake your head and slowly get up on your feet, your body aches, a quick look around and your foggy mind starts to put things together.

You're in the Captain's Quarters, and YOU'RE the captain. You slowly nod your head "Yeah, this makes sense." You mutter as you rub your forehead, this places is a mess, the walls are metallic with little regard for aesthetic, your decorations and furniture are few and far between, a simple king-sized bed, a sofa, a desk that you rarely use, a worn-down monitor, a door leading to what you think is the bathroom, and a large door leading to....You can't remember, your head hurts too much. You look around towards the bed, it's covered in clothes, empty bottles, and a few pills you can't recognize, hell, that describes the entire place, it really is a mess, your thumbs still tingle.

You stretch your aching body a little and try to remember what it was you were doing before you seemingly drugged yourself into this sorry state, but it's all foggy and cryptic, you reach for one of the empty bottles on your bed, bringing it closer to your nose. The smell is so...comforting, whiskey, your favorite, you're sure of it! You toss the bottle to the floor, perhaps its time to try moving your legs...

Roll 1d6
>1-2: Go into the bathroom
>2-4: Go through the large door
>4-6: Examine the pills, maybe ingest one or two for testing purposes

(First time posting, feedback welcome.)
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Lets say its used to measure success of actions
1-3. You fight your aunt DC 7
4-6. You run from your aunt DC 2

So we roll dice+1d69 the dice being XY so if X lands on 1 to 3 we need on Y a 7 or higher... etc
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>2-4: Draw your gun and attempt to ambush the figure, you don't particularly want to shoot it, but pointing a gun at the back of someone's head generally does wonders, or so you recall

You are definitely not going to take any chances when it comes to whoever is moving towards you, the gun that's tucked into your pants is now in your hands, you tighten your grip around the cold metal and wait.

Like a veteran hunter you lie motionless, your breath nearly silent, you're not stressed or afraid, you're as calm as can be, the humming figure likely suspects nothing as you lie in ambush besides the door. It doesn't take long for the figure to open the door and step inside, and it doesn't take you a fraction of a second to get behind it with your gun pointed at its...

...Well, you're not sure what the biology of this thing is, what you'd assume is its torso is similar to an upside-down triangle, the top is wide and looks sturdy, getting smaller as you go down, yet there is no head, it's simply flat up there, two blue-colored hands rise up in surrender as you press the barrel of your gun to a random point on this thing's....torso?

It makes a few sounds that sound distressed to you, but you press your gun harder into its back, it feels as hard as rock, you're not sure if you want to be this close anymore. Seeing as it's simply making stupid noises at this point, you give another nudge and a simple question "Who are you?"

The figure pauses "Cap? May I ask why you're holding a gun to my head?" You raise a brow, apparently this is its head, well, HIS head, as it sounds male. You push him forward "Turn slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them." You command, you don't even know how many hands he has, but when he turns around you're rather impressed by how unsightly this thing is.

In the center of this inverted-pyramid of an alien is a single, large, and rather fleshy-looking slit from which its pitch-black eye looks around, you cannot read a single emotion from this thing, that's for sure. It seems to only have the two hands and four appendages you assume are legs. The hands seem to also lack for fingers, you cannot even spot a mouth, so its method of speaking is unknown to you as of yet.

"Look." The blue thing speaks "You have a gun and you're aiming right at my eye, now I know I've been eating most of the food around here, but this is a little excessive." You hesitate, he seems to know you, or perhaps he's part of your crew, but you don't recall him being in the picture you found in your quarters, you keep your gun aimed right at its eye as you ponder your next move

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Rolled 54 (1d69)

Kill the triangle
What if everyone can roll and the dice will pick one of the rolls
If there is a 4 rolls then QM rolls a 1d4 to see which roll gets chossen

That way ppl can still roll if their prefered option hasnt been rolled
That's what I've been doing unless the rolls have been the same, which has happened a couple of times already. Picked up the idea from >>4927142

That along with the DC idea seems pretty ok, I think.

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An experimental and unholy mix of Crossover fanfic, NRP, and Vs debates. A QM/Judge (Me) will arbitrate how interactions roughly play out but other than that it's open chaos on how things end up going. Before we really get things rolling we'll start with faction recruitment. Name a faction and where you want to put them on the map. Maybe throw an emblem pic for good measure Be mindful not to include anything that can completely bulldoze anyone's prior entries. Eg: don't drop in with a purposely way overpowered sci-fi superstate when everyone else is running around with shit like Fallout's ncr and the irl mongol empire.

An old version of this gimmick I've done. Was posted as a vs debate OP in the past but now I want to try for running the same idea as a multi-cross roleplay. https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/818581588425572392/863520437887041536/image0.pn

An overview of what the fuck is going on here: All the regions of map with a faction's emblem slapped onto them become stand-ins for that civilization which are functionally identical to how they were in their own canon, at least starting off. This transplanting of the player states away from their canonical territorial shapes and size is mitigated with handwavium. Their abilities as a faction and the mentalities of the peoples inhabiting the transplanted societies are unchanged from how they acted in their own canon and their sentiments to their newfound neighbours. A lot of this thread's entertainment is supposed to be from players thoerycrafting about how each transplanted society acts between the various figures and subgroups inside of each societies borders which will also be reacting to the ever-evolving environments of the scenario. Let it be stressed that players here are not meant to be trying to 'win' or even necessarily roleplay. They are tasked with trying and make all the things originating in their blob of map space act in a way that is faithful to their canon. The people that are playing here will act and react as accurately to their chosen faction's canon behaviour as possible. If that might involve spontaneous collapse into civil war or the main villain of one series pulling off their rise into godhood in the chaos then that's how you as a player are trusted to describe events playing out that month. That villian about to bring down the sky is everyone's else problem. Rounds here will be done in month-long intervals where after each new update people will post how they think their chunk of the map could act.
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Honesty, the air situation will be the most interesting in a sense, as these people are invading each other’s airspace without any identification, meaning you have UFOs with unknown intentions currently traversing your airspace in a critical and chaotic time.
There would be no aging K56k’s or MP98’s among the Grenztruppen as initially thought. They were armed with the latest arms produced by the factories back home. StG-04 assault rifles and G-01 battle rifles would, initially, not be trained on the approaching IFT; or at least it looked like an IFT. The gun had to be an Autocannon. The insignia of the Grenztruppen too would be very different from the 3rd Reich the Seraph were used to…and moreso some of them seemed to have the ears and tails of wolves.

As they roll up closer, the Grenstruppen actually get into position, and one walks out, an arm out in an obvious gesture to hold their advance.

“Halt! Sie nähern sich den Grenzen der Souveränen Nation der Gashtener Republik!”
Still here lads?

Any unknown aviation detected over Unirea Aripilor daur airspace via radar or the good old mark 1 eyeball would be contacted via the ground to inform them that they are currently flying over Unirea Aripilor daur airspace, and to identify themselves. If no answer is given, AIC (which stands for Aviația Imperială Caramitru) L-203 fighters would be launched and the unknown identified via the air. The fighters in question were one of the most modern craft in the Forța aeriană regală, capable of a speed in excess of 750 kilometers per hour with war emergency power, and faster in a dive. While not likely to catch up to the jets if they were flying at top speed, multiple squadrons could cause issues for them, though the squadrons would be ordered to give a warning if the aircraft in question didn't turn back.

Other than this, a number of aircraft, mainly old biplanes such as the AIC R-188 or occasionally the twin engine tactical bomber called the SSA (Srebŭrna Skala Aviatsiya) T-201 would be flying to chart out their own territory, although mostly would remain away from territory that the empire shared a land boarder with, the only area outside the empire that was scouted being the seas.

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Over the past month or so, your life has gotten pretty damn hectic.

It all started when a girl named 0phelia marched into your arcade like she owned the place, and proceeded to upend your entire life out of spite. Since then, you’ve been through plenty of trials – salty gamers wrecking your store, having your face thrust back into the limelight of a world that you were content to have left behind, and agreeing to support your former teammate from that world in making bank at your first tournament debut in five years.

There are a lot of things that you’ve had to come to terms with as a result of this. Overcoming guilt for your past fuckups, the anxiety caused by knowing that anyone you’ve set off in the past could waltz right through your door, or even the fact that you’ve been tossed in the deep end without your best friend at your side.

It just really hasn’t been a good chain of events for you, Wolfgang O’Neal.

The process of getting registered at the tournament building was easy enough. Orion drove the two of you to the arena several hours before you actually needed to be there, and it turned out to be all the better for it. There were several papers you had to sign – namely updating shit that you haven’t touched in several years, as well as the not-so-gentle reminder that cheating is banned in the tournament. That’s one noose around your neck that you doubt you’ll be able to escape, unfortunately.

What followed was the most grueling thing of all, however – taking pictures.

The photographer, like all of them you’ve met, was pushy as all hell. You must have been a lot better at dealing with them in your youth, because ten minutes into the shoot you wanted to walk out of the room outright when they told you to “stop scowling”. It ended with some pictures of you and Orion standing together with neutral faces, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s all that they deserved to get.

With all of that out of the way, however, you finally found yourself with a brief moment of respite once you stepped out of the locker room and into the bathroom a few halls over. You look at yourself in the mirror, and wince at the deep bags underneath your green eyes. Your black hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and you honestly look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.

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>”What’s the situation, Orion?” Figure out if he saw anything that you didn’t while you were in the freezer.
>Immediately set upon the store and look for anything that may prove useful to you – Orion probably looted, but you’ll do it too. [This will require a roll.]
Having finally got off my arse to go and read through the archives of this quest after ignoring it since the start of its original run, I can say that it is the Good Shit (tm) and I'll definitely be lurking at the very least from here on out. Now I wonder where cirno has wandered off to.
According to the Discord, his AC broke and is suffering.
Rats. The QM Curse strikes again!

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Worst case scenario: your wife is cheating on you. Superstar has you pulling more and more hours now, has you coming home later and later, too tired to even warm-up the dinners she prepares for you, neatly saran-wrapped in the refrigerator or separated into labeled plastic containers, let alone return the amorous advances between the sheets afterward, the affection she so deserves, and yes, at times, even demands.

You've been married to Vicky for six years and of those, the last five have been bliss, a prolonged honeymoon sustained almost entirely by your wife's perfect diligence. Only now do you face your first real challenge as a married couple. The manilla envelope in your hands, bulging in the middle with a fat square, like bump on a band-aid, reminds you of those old noir movies you used to watch with your brother. Everything about the dingy office you're in, the broken ceiling fan, the missing shingles from the venetian blinds from which slats of dirty sunlight filter through, the noisy desk with its clutter held down by obscene paperweights and most of all the sagging, sweating face of Mord, the PI-on-call for Superstar, seems like something from the movies, a carefully made set. At any moment, the director might say "cut!" and you could wake up from this, as if from a dream.

Mord fishes around in his desk, slamming the jammed drawers with an annoying amount of force. Finally he retrieves a small penknife and offers it to you with a small up and down gesture as if he was threatening to stab you with it. You take it, feeling an intense shame gather in the pit of your stomach.

"Can you just tell me?" you say.

"I think you had just better take a look for yourself, bud," says Mord, laying his hands over his stomach and leaning back on his office chair until it begins to squeak from the strain. "Yeah, I think that'd be for the best."

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>We keep talking about our secretary and in this update we gave her an indirect kiss.
I mean, she's our secretary dude. also we're not japanese so the indirect kiss thing doesn't work here
Worked for me in HS
Are you sure you’re not living in an anime?
Guess things were different in 2004
No post on the weekend again guys, sorry. Next post will be Monday.

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In this time of interstellar war, loyalty of corporations is in high demand. Most are swallowed by one of the three major powers, some fall to bankruptcy, a few are destroyed in gambits for independence. Fortunately, you are the governor of the Homeworld, the largest economic powerhouse in the entire galaxy. Though you are safeguarded by treaties and arms from unilateral takeover, it is still your job to broker deals and offer support to the three galactic goliaths as you see fit in order to safeguard the independence and prosperity of your people.

To the galactic north is the Osseus Empire, a warmongering nation that wishes to unite all of humanity under its banner. It is currently engaged on a two-front war with the Helix Resistance and Androgen Provinces. However, Homeworld is not free of their military's influence either, and diplomatic ties are strained simply due to your independence and position as a hub world.

To the galactic west is the Helix Resistance, formerly the Royal Court of Helios. Their kingdom quickly fell after the uprising on Kelbor took much of their land, and now their fractured army gathers around the binary system of Apollonia. They are by far the weakest and poorest of the three powers, but their systems are also the richest in resources.

To the galactic east are the Androgen Provinces, a collection of sovereign systems that unite in times of war. Their main forces are fending off the Osseus Empire's offensives, but do see the collapse of Helios's Court as an opportunity to expand their land. Due to overindustrialization, their systems lack vital resources, and they will pay fortunes to garner much-needed war materials.

There are also a few unaffiliated systems floating around. Most are too remote, small or dangerous to warrant any nation spending their resources in securing. These are the best systems for you to conduct mining operations on, as no one cares enough to object.

Finally, there is the Anomaly, which appeared north of the Osseus 20 years ago. Nothing is known about it, as all probes and ships sent into it are simply forced around, much like how a black hole bends light around it.
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Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

Just in case no one else rolls.

Also, to add on, if Osseus agrees to trade us the Destroyer, trade it to Helix immediately for the resources and don't buy any.
Also, for a small 'toll' of resources, we will allow Helix passage with their fleet through Homeworld in case they want to go to Kelbor for whatever reason.
>Hold off on the purchase of 2k iron and 2k carbon until we find out what we found. Subtract the difference if we find iron/carbon or buy the above amounts if we find sulfer/nitrogen.
>Hold off on the purchase of 4k iron, 4k carbon, 6k sulfur, and 4k nitrogen until we find out what, if anything, we mine. Subtract the difference from the purchase in case we find anything, including if we can trade a Destroyer for the resources that Osseus agrees to give us as payment

1 Destroyer vs 3 planets aka half of your territory and the entire eastern half of space.
I know which one I would choose.
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Alright, after a long lack of resource shipments, the Hades Plunder finally returns home with cargo in tow. It appears that they found 2k carbon and 1k sulfur. A good haul, but some iron would have been seriously appreciated. After refueling, the captain asks where his next station will be. (Write in)

The Ruhr wanders into a field of of iron-rich asteroids and successfully extracts a large chunk from one. The Descartes orbits nearby, on the lookout for danger, but currently has spotted nothing. (Roll 3d6 to identify resources)

You politely refuse the Androgen president's offer for the second time. When he asks you why, you can hear a little quiver in his voice, but it's too faint to tell if he's dejected or angry. Still, when he hears that you lack the resources and power to properly pay tithes, he accepts and hangs up the phone.

After the conversation, you immediately dial for the Osseus, requesting a secure line with a member of the Chairman's council. Ideally, a face-to-face conversation would neutralize the risk of phone tapping, but showing up with bodyguards to discuss "business" right after a near-invasion would not be the wisest move. After being put on hold for 20 minutes, you're finally greeted by the Chief of Foreign Relations. He goes on to say that the loan will be repaid the round after this one, though you won't need to imburse them anymore. It seems like they've seen the sense in preserving good relations with you.
After ironing out the loan's payment details, you turn to the main topic of discussion. You inform the Chief that the Androgen are going to strike Bucephelus, Cadenza and Cocatrice very soon, which the he processes for a moment before thanking you for the tip. Interestingly, he doesn't seem to be all too concerned with asking questions, so you press on a little, saying you know which system the assault will launch from and that you'll tell them if they agree to gift you a destroyer. The diplomat, somehow unfazed by the news and offer, replies "that won't be necessary. We already know where the Androgen will be striking from, and wasting a destroyer to hear it again is not on my agenda." He ends the call there before you can get another word out. All in all, you're glad that you're finally getting your $42k back, but the way the Chief nonchalantly handled the call will have your mind doing somersaults that night.

Next, you decide to get the Helix up to speed. Fortunately, their diplomats are willing to talk in person. A thorough debrief on the upcoming invasion ensues, and you make sure to imply that both the Osseus and Androgen will be quite occupied with each other for the time being. The Helix diplomat sits in silence for a good while, then goes to ring his superiors. He talks for 2 minutes before handing the phone to you. On the phone is the Helix Interplanetary Supreme Resistance Leader herself, who quietly asks for everything you know about their enemies' troop movements. You chuckle and say that Homeworld's help never comes without a price. With a sigh, the Supreme Leader asks "name your price, con man." You tell her that having a little sulfur and nitrogen never hurts, and the Supreme Leader catches on. "1k of each. In return, you tell me time and forces that there." You wonder if you should risk ask for more or take the deal as is. (Accept or write in counteroffer)

The Capital Drill is officially signed off as the Kamina in its paperwork, and you decide to commission a little decoration. Orders for a massive pair of spiked orange sunglasses to be painted on the bow of the ship are soon mixed in with all the other paperwork, hopefully bypassing all lawyers and inspectors until its too late.

Just a question, how's the quest feel so far?

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You are Kyune Muramoto, Heiress of the Noir-Muramoto Family and it’s assets in the city of Noir. A gene-augmented Plutocrat, you’ve been continually prepared to be a leader since before you were born and trained to be the iron flower of traditionalist sophistication since you could talk. But that didn’t stop you from playing by your own rules.




You’re strolling through the Manor’s hallways down to the garage when you spot your Uncle’s Governess approaching from down the hallway. Frag, it’s only been a few minutes since you talked to Kaguya-chan. The lady moved quickly.

“Lady Kyune.” She curtsies, “May I have a moment or so of your time?”

“Sure.” You shrug, “Winslet-san ... was it?”

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Ah, that is quite a shame. I was really enjoying this quest, it’s been one of the highlights of this board really. But I don’t begrudge you for losing motivation, shit happens, and I would never expect you to continue with something your not passionate about. Maybe this will be a great time to reflect on what you enjoy writing about!

No matter what, I wish you the best, and I hope that if you return, we’ll get to see you at your best.

Goodnight, Noir. May the dawn bring about new chapter in your life that will excite you. :^)
sorry for not always being here to vote. I've been busy lately and would sometimes miss the thread in the catalog.
I hope you'll find your motivation back and return soon.
I'm really glad you enjoyed it anons.
I get being busy anon. Hope it's going well for you!
If I return to this setting it'll probably either be a reboot or a different MC. I stopped taking notes halfway through and frequently had to go back to old threads to remind myself what the plot was.

Regardless, I love you guys. Each and every one. There are few words that can describe the special kind of love and appreciation a QM holds for their players. Doing what I did would have been impossible without y'all.
I'm gonna miss you Noir. This quest will hold a special place in my heart. I hope life treats you well mate!

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