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New board: /vrpg/ - Video Games/RPG



You are Norman Trueshot, a hunter and occasional poacher. Your life thus far has been fairly ordinary, you make your living selling deerskins, furs and the occasional monster organ. Since yesterday however, you've been experiencing a powerful sense of deja vu. You have this vague recollection of the future events--a kind of foresight.

For example, right now you're sitting the Lonely Ox, a local watering hole and you see Brandine, the lovely freckled barwench whom no one in town has been able to conquer, rebuffing the flirting of yet another admirer and you know somehow, that she's going to throw a mug of cider in his face. That seems obvious enough right? But you also know exactly what she's going to say afterwards. "If I wanted to get fucked by a pig, I'd visit your mother!" She has a mouth on her, that Brandine. Next, the piggish gentlemen in question is going to get rough. And then you'll get to watch Brandine's shiner change colors for the rest of the week. As for the swine, he's going to get a crossbow bolt straight through his chest and face, courtesy of a mysterious stranger sitting two tables away feasting on every dish the Ox has to offer. Because the hog is the cousin of the local Baron, his death will inspire an investigation resulting in hanging of the mysterious stranger, Brandine and the owner of the Ox to boot. A real shame since you like the cider here almost as much as Brandine's company.

Of course, none of this has yet happened. Brandine is still just talking. The baron's porky cousin is still just flirting. The mysterious stranger is still pecking at his food. But could it really play out the way you've foreseen?

>Wait and see what happens
>Intervene on behalf of Brandine
>Intervene on behalf of the baron's cousin
>Write-in
>>
>>4383778
>Intervene on behalf of the baron's cousin
>>
>>4383782
Much as you like Brandine, saving a member of the nobility is sure to have greater benefits. You wait a little, and sure enough Brandine delivers her scathing line and the man replies with a straight hook to the face. Brandine is dropped instantly and at the same moment you're tackling the mysterious stranger to the ground. The mechanism by which launched his bolts is a contraption of wires affixed to his arm by leather straps. As you tumble together to the ground, the device misfires.

>Roll 1d6
>>
Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4383786
>>
Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4383786
>>
Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>4383786
>>
>>4383788

Luckily you took your spoonful of addertongue syrup this morning and with reflexes befitting a jungle cat, shimmy out of the way as the metal shard zips harmlessly through your mantle. The stranger then attempts to knee you in the groin, which you just barely stop by slamming your forehead into his nose. He clutches at the blood that gushes out of his nostrils and rolls off. "What the fuck?" he says. Looking at you like you just grew two heads and then drawing his sword like he was ready to rectify that situation.

Something about this stranger puts you off, something like a bad smell or that feeling you get when you know something predatory is staring at you, like a jungle cat or a serial rapist. The stranger lunges forward (inexpertly in your opinion) with the sword.

>Draw your weapon and fight back
>Flee
>Attempt civil discourse
>Write-in
>>
>>4383809
>Draw your weapon and fight back
>>
>>4383809
>Dodge and attempt civil discourse
>>
>>4383809
>>Draw your weapon and fight back
>>
>>4383817

You draw your own short sword against the stranger's longer one, parrying his lunge away yet feeling somehow embarrassed by the size disparity.

"Die!" says the mysterious stranger.

"No," you say, quite reasonably.

You exchange a flurry of blows, with the stranger growing more and more annoyed and strangely more confused, like a lizard that has suddenly had its legs lopped off and is trying to come to terms with its new life as a snake. "What the fuck?" he says as his sword is yet again parried away. "This isn't fair!" He then reaches for his belt, takes out small vial full of bubbling green liquid, and begins fumbling with its cork.

>Take the opportunity to deliver a gentlemanly kick to the groin
>Offer the man some advice on how to open stuck corks
>Flee
>Write-in
>>
>>4383829
>Take the opportunity to deliver a gentlemanly kick to the groin
>>
>>4383829
>Take the opportunity to deliver a gentlemanly kick to the groin
>>
>>4383839
>>4383842

As the stranger continues to struggle with the pesky cork, you calmly sheathe your short sword, run up and then deliver a beautiful front kick between his legs, making a healthy, protein-rich breakfast of his gonads. He drops to his knees, dropping the vial to hold together what remains of his manhood.

You pick up the vial, examining it. The alchemical concoction is definitely not something you'd find around here. Such bitters could have only come from Aqua Regia, the magical city-state in the south. Before you ask the stranger to regale you with stories of his travels however, he disappears. Not slinking (or crawling, as the case may be) away but quite literally vanished, without even the courtesy of a puff of smoke. The others in the tavern stand frozen, at first by surprise and then by something more bizarre and permanent. Indeed it seems that time has stopped, drops of cider from a slammed down mug float in the hair, Brandine's long pigtails are suspended in mid-swish, a fly hangs a few inches in front of your face, as if waiting for traffic to pass.

Then there's a stretching of light, a feeling of things made of rubber being pulled away toward a distant point. And in the next instant, you're back in your cabin outside the village. But now it's morning again, the birds are chirping, the sun is rising etc. And there's that freaky sense of deja vu again.

>Stay calm
>Don't stay calm
>Write-in
>>
>>4383855
>Stay calm
>>
>>4383857

"Well, well, well," you say to yourself, smiling meditatively. "This is quite a pickle." You perform the usual morning duties. you make your bed, wash up, have a hearty breakfast, narrowly avoid having a psychotic breakdown through steadfast denial. Whereas before you were only dimly aware of something being off, and had dismissed the memories of the future as a half-baked dream, you have a hell of a time doing so again.

You try and remember what you did this morning, that is, what you will do. And what you should do instead.

>Go out hunting again
>Go to the village instead
>Stay home the whole day
>Write-in
>>
>>4383855
>Stay calm
>>
>>4383866
Go to the village instead
>>
>>4383866
>Go out hunting again
Let's see how much has changed.
>>
>>4383868

Sleepy Valley is anything but in the morning, but that's to be expected of a village consisting mostly of fishermen and clammers. They are all heading to the boats bobbing on the wharf, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and the more experienced and wealthy among them rubbing fish oil on their harpoons. If you remember correctly, one of them, a tattooed and tanned behemoth named Big Gary (his real, Gookish name is unpronounceable) will bring home a prize catch later today: a fourteen foot tiger-eel whose striped fins are valued for their ability to put men who otherwise have difficulty setting sail, at full mast. Big Gary is a recently settled foreigner though, and as such doesn't yet have his own boat. Most of the eel will have to be given up to the owner of whichever boat he decides to grace this morning. They will all vie for his attention but you already know the boat will be one of Gunders'--the son of a fisherman masquerading as a merchant-lord.

>Go to the wharf
>Go to the Lonely Ox
>Wander around the village
>Write-in
>>
>>4383880
>>Wander around the village
>>
>>4383880
Wander around the village
>>
>>4383880
>Wander around the village
>>
>>4383885

Coming to a fork on the road you take the path which leads away from the wharf. You begin to wonder if your changed actions will have any effect on the rest of the day. The shops in the market are not yet open and the stalls are all bare. A beggar swaddled in his threadbare blankets curses idly at the morning cold.

Passing through the street in front of the temple pillars, you feel that sensation of something off-kilter, like you're standing on a slight incline. Turning around, you spot the mysterious stranger from yesterday (or you suppose, later today). The outline of this contraption shows through his robes, giving him away. He stops when he sees you and you think he's been following you--which is rather strange since technically he hasn't met you yet.

>Attack him
>Pretend as if you don't know him
>Greet him like an old friend
>Write-in
>>
>>4383899
>>Greet him like an old friend
>>
>>4383901

Without missing a beat, you walk straight toward him. He, predictably, tenses up, especially toward his groin area--so maybe he remembers what happened (or will happen). Is he the cause of all this?

"Hello there," you say, in a warm, friendly voice which relaxes him at once--not, you think, because of your courtesy but probably because he thinks you don't remember anything.

"Who are you?" he says.

"Norman Trueshot," you say.

"You live around here?"

"Sure."

"You..." He wets his lips. "Have we met before?"

>Pretend ignorance
>Jog his memory with a helpful kick to the groin
>Admit your knowledge of the future and demand an explanation
>Write-in
>>
>>4383909
>Jog his memory with a helpful kick to the groin
>>
>>4383909
>Admit your knowledge of the future and demand an explanation
>>
>>4383909
>Admit your knowledge of the future and demand an explanation
>>
WE SHOULD JUST TRAIN LIKE MOTHERFUCKERS FOR A MILLION DAYS, THEM KILL THE WORLD
>>
>>4383909
>Jog his memory with a helpful kick to the groin
>>
>>4383909
>Admit your knowledge of the future and demand an explanation
>>
>>4383914
>>4383923

You cut the bullshit and demand a straight explanation of what's going on. Why have you seemingly gone backward in time? What has he done? The stranger stands flabbergasted for a moment. "But," he says, backing away. "You're an Enpeesee."

"How dare you call me that!" you say, then thinking about it a little more. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"No, no," he says. "What the fuck? This is impossible." Then he laughs, excitedly, like someone sampling a delicious new species of cheese for the first time. "This is impossible." He stares at you a moment, thinking, taking out loud to himself. "Should I test it out--but no what if it's like a glitch or something? Shit. Hey," he says. "You're not like another player or something right? Did you hack my copy somehow?"

"Player? I do sometimes throw dice in the weekly games at the Ox, if that's what you mean about though I don't see how--"

"No, no," he says, laughing again. "Shit, this is crazy. Alright, can you like come with me? Maybe I can add you to my party..." He then begins to rifle through his pack for what appears to a roll of parchment, then begins scribbling on it with his pointer finger--not scribbling exactly, more like...poking? You think the man might be a few fish shy of a school. "O.K. that should work. Do you feel anything?"

"A slight irritation."

"Hmm, maybe if I use a recall crystal?" He takes out a small blue marble from his pocket and before you can so much as sneeze, throws it on the ground where doesn't so much smash as turn liquid. Glowing blue runes appear on the earth, arranged in an intricate pattern of rings and circles, that immediately begin to rotate until they become a whirlpool of light, a portal of some kind. The stranger jumps in without a moment's thought and is gone. With his passage, you feel a tug in your navel pulling you toward the hole as well.

>Run
>Jump in and follow
>Write-in
>>
>>4383940
>Jump in and follow
Shit, we're an NPC in Sword Art Online.
>>
>>4383940
>Jump in and follow
>>
>>4383940
>>Jump in and follow
>>
>>4383940
>Jump in and follow
>>
>>4383940
>Jump in and follow
>>
>>4383958
>>4383949
>>4383945
>>4383943
>>4383995

At this point it seems futile to resist, so you throw caution to the wind and jump in. You watch from a high place as your body gets broken up into a million small cubes, that rearrange themselves into a straight line and get shot around a long curve, like a string beads threaded into a bracelet. On the other side the blocks reassemble and out you emerge from the floor of an underground chamber. An arched doorway leads into a kind of barracks with many bunk beds. A set of steps to your left goes up into the darkness. The whole area is lit not by lamps, but by a kind of luminescent moss that grows on large glass orbs hanging from the ceiling. They look almost like floating blue balls of ice, undulating mysteriously on the surface and throwing watery light on the floor and walls.

"So it worked!" says the stranger. "You still remember me right? And the last save?"

It takes a moment to recover from the disorientation of that disembodied viewpoint. The stranger seems to take this badly and begins to panic, but you quickly assure him that you're fine and that yes, you remember him but you have no idea what he means by lastsave.

"Man this is so weird," he says, staring at you like some species of exotic fish. Then as if remembering something, he pulls out that roll of parchment and starts fiddling with it. "I can see your stats here. Kind of shit, but whatever."

"Excuse me but where are we?" you say.

"Oh right, duh," he says, flourishing with his hand. "This is the Arcanium."

You look around with a newfound wonder. "You mean to say we've just traveled the entire length of the continent and are now in Aqua Regia?"

"Pretty much. I use this as a base of operations because the mana pots are cheap." He brings you into the dormitory where you can see others dozing or studying on the desk near their beds. One of them, a clean young woman with a too-bright smile, greets the stranger as "Mashu"--a strange name even for a foreigner--and sidles up to him with bubbly enthusiasm. They begin an absorbing conversation, leaving you to look around.

>Head upstairs
>Look around the dorm
>Listen in on the conversation
>Write-in
>>
>>4384020
>Listen in on the conversation
>>
>>4384020
>>Listen in on the conversation
>>
>>4384020
>Listen in on the conversation
>>
>>4384026
You draw closer to listen in on their conversation. Most of it is filled with incomprehensible jargon related to (you think) alchemy. The young woman obviously has a thing for the stranger as well, or else is just naturally cheerful, but the stranger seems indifferent to her. He introduces you to her, calling her Sally--though her name is actually Salbrion--and then watches your interaction with the rapt interest of a parent setting up a play date. You feel a bit out of place with your shabby clothes and your rough, country accent, but the girl is polite enough not bring attention to them.

The stranger than takes you to a private chamber, a rather spare room which he calls his personal quarters and begins to question you on the particulars of your foresight.

"It started yesterday, or I suppose I should say, last week--come to think of it, it was right after you were hanged."

"Right, right," he says nodding. "That makes sense. And you came back to this morning?"

"Well, yes, and then yesterday or I suppose later today, I came back again--this is all rather confusing."

He nods, his eyes half-lidded. "Hmm, but it's kinda risky if it happens again. Does that mean I have to keep it on the whole time? What happens if I...let me save first--try this--there, did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh, I guess no time passes if I exit. But if I reload then maybe that has a chance of resetting everything? So it's kinda like an ironman run now." You look at him blankly. "Sorry, just thinking out loud. How do I explain this--would you even understand it if I did?"

"I resent that. I may not be one of the fancy Arcanists hanging around here but I'm not a half-wit either."

He laughs. "This is so cool. You're, like, alive."

"Of course I'm alive."

That seems to sober him. He frowns pensively and doesn't speak.

>Penny for his thoughts
>That's enough strangeness for one day, demand to be taken back
>Write-in
>>
>>4384049
>>Penny for his thoughts
>>
>>4384049
>Penny for his thoughts
>>
>>4384067
>>4384068

You prod him regarding the truth of what's really happening. He tries to give you explanation which doesn't make any sense, something about another world, and some sort of game created by a deceased friend of his, and something called saves, and he keeps talking about eyes. It's embarrassing to admit, but he was right, you really don't understand any of it.

"So you get it?" he says.

"Of course," you say, nodding. "It's quite clear."

"Really?"

"Of course not! Nothing you've said makes any sense. The only thing I understand is that you somehow have the ability to turn back time. So either you're some sort of god and this is an elaborate test, or I'm still blissfully asleep in my cabin at Sleepy Valley."

"Yeah, I guess it was too much at once." He scratches his chin. "What should I do here? What if there's more like you? What if the ones I killed...should I start over? But then maybe that resets you too. Shit." He thinks for a while, then looks up, smiling. "You can just come with me. We'll do an ironman run and maybe if I beat the main quest line something will happen." He pounds his palm with his fist. "So it's settled, you're coming with me."

Ah yes, become the traveling companion what appears to be a homicidal maniac.

>Refuse, order him to take you back to Sleepy Valley
>He should at least let you pick up your stuff
>This is fine
>Write-in
>>
>>4384086
>He should at least let you pick up your stuff
>>
>>4384086
>He should at least let you pick up your stuff
So we are becoming the companion of a rpg player right?
Time to see some irrational decisions, and this time they will not come from us, i hope.
>>
>>4384086
>write in: ask for more information.
Before accepting or refusing, ask for more information about his quest, or whatever is his purpose for traveling. Try to gauge the extend of his sanity.
>>
>>4384086
>He should at least let you pick up your stuff

>>4384112
This is /qst/. The irrational decisions will come mostly from us.
>>
>>4384092
>>4384112

At this point, given the gleam in Mashu's eyes, you don't think you have the freedom to refuse. You decide to at least ask about this quest he's talking about and what it entails. He tells you that he's supposed to deliver a letter to one Camelia Sunstar and that will start the quest chain (whatever that means). Camelia Sunstar of course is the Archmagess, one of the most powerful beings on the continent. How he plans on getting close enough to deliver a letter (which he insists has to be hand delivered to complete the quest--though you've no idea why) you don't know.

He does at least accept your request to take you back to gather your things--at first, but then he thinks the better of it after hearing what it is you want to retrieve. Namely your new bow, the arrows you spent the last month shaping and fletching, some spare clothes and your camping gear.

"I'll care of that stuff," he says. "There should be some left over loot in the last bandit camp I cleared out. We'll stop by and grab it. I need to take care of a few things in the city though."

"What about me?"

"I guess you can come with me." He snaps his fingers. "Actually, you know what? It might be better idea to take you to the trainers--although now I'm curious if I can even do that. Actually I'm even more curious to see what happens if I just leave you alone. Would you be able to start your own quests?" He begins muttering to himself excitedly.

>Go with him on his errands
>Go to these trainers
>Explore the city on your own
>Write-in
>>
>>4384188
>Go to these trainers
>>
>>4384188
>Go to these trainers
>>
>>4384188
>tell him that it's a nice bow, though
>>
>>4384188
>>Go to these trainers
>>
>>4384191
>>4384197

"If I have any say in this, I'd like to see these trainers you're talking about."

He nods. "Yeah, that makes sense. First thing we have to do is improve your survivability a little, especially since we're doing ironman. Wait, shit, if you die and I reload would that change anything?"

"If I die?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it." He leads you up the stairs of the dormitory into a large foyer, absorbed with his roll of parchment. "So it looks like you have a ranged build, no magic though and your melee is...pretty good. That's why I couldn't beat you last time." Outside the Arcanium building is an enormous courtyard surrounded by huge parapets and towers. He takes into you one of these first. "Let me check if this is even going to work," he says, introducing you to a wizened old man with thick black goggles and gloves made of what appear to be the feet of a griffon. He is surrounded by racks of various alchemical apparatuses and components. As a master alchemist he offers training (for a fee) to students and residents of the city. After a brief conversation, Mashu confirms that it is possible for you receive training (though you have no idea why it wouldn't be possible) and that now you have a few options.

>Go to the Coliseum to get combat training
>Stay with the old man to learn Alchemy, the transmutation of raw components into powerful poisons, tonics, salves and potions.
>Meet with another Arcanist to learn Enchantment, the art of imbuing objects with charged mana
>Write-in
>>
>>4384220
>Stay with the old man to learn Alchemy, the transmutation of raw components into powerful poisons, tonics, salves and potions.
Witcher mode? Witcher mode.
>>
>>4384220
>Meet with another Arcanist to learn Enchantment, the art of imbuing objects with charged mana
magic archer is go
>>
>>4384220
>Go to the Coliseum to get combat training
>>
>>4384220
>Meet with another Arcanist to learn Enchantment, the art of imbuing objects with charged mana
>>
>>4384220
>Go to the Colisseum for combat training
>>
>>4384253
>>4384296
Changing my vote to Coliseum so as to break the deadlock. We should go spear/shield for survivability.
>>
>>4384220
>Go to the Coliseum to get combat training
>>
>>4384220

>Go to the Coliseum to get combat training



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