[PIE] Broke in Fallout II

[Altaem]

The setting is the post apocalyptic world of Fallout II.  Many of the locations, characters and sub-plots are ripped straight out of the computer game.
The player characters are coal miners from Rebroken Hills.  Rather than giving them free choice as usual, a mix of random and player choice is used. 

Gabriel: An ex-caravan guard with a quick wit and a quicker draw.  An observant man with impressive negotiation and intimidation abilities and a broad skill base covering most combat arts for when all else fails.

Johnson: A clever and intuitive fellow with alarming high talents at stealth and theft.  Possesses a dark brutal streak and a lightning strike.  Has a love of knives, lots of knives.

Session 1:<<

[deathglider]

I'm participating :B

[Altaem]

That's what I for for bribing players with XP to participate.

[themaloryman]

Look, I am logged in an participating too!

Would it be a worthwhile post to state that the best things about this system are:
1) It's speed: I played a round of d20 Warhammer RPG the other day, and this system does big poos all over the d20 system, then runs away and is so fast the d20 system can't keep up to get revenge. And that snapping sound was what happens when you stretch a metaphor past what it can reasonably bear.
2) The cooperation it engenders between GM and player: when a player can roll a dice, look to the GM for a success/fail verdict, and then interpret the dice themselves (under supervision!) it allows for a cooperative story telling that you don't get any other way.
3) The way it helps drive a story: When the dice can influence events, and the 'flavour' or results, they can drive the plot too. Who knows what twist in the story might hang on a roll of 6-5-1?

This system is easily the best I've ever played, and I'm only annoyed that I didn't invent it!

[Shadow_80]

//apologies to Mallory for beating him to it, but he has taken too long and so i thought i would jump the gun; when he gets off his butt and posts he can fill in the details of what led Gabriel and Johnson to this point iun their travels

Mickey subtly sized up the new blood.  Didn't look like much, to be honest... mind you, Scorpion was the only one of the regulars that she thought was worth spit.  Shame he was so damn ugly.  At least this was going to be her last run.  While she'd been told with her looks she'd make a mint at "seamstressing"..... she couldn't bring herself to do it.  Not that playing pet medic to a slaver caravan was a great improvement, but at least she could use her skills to make a difference.  Usually...usually the slaves were happy to be alive, so she did what she could to keep it that way.  Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back in line, she took one last look at the new pair.  They didn't seem to have a clue... they really must have been desperate to take this job.  They weren't even armoured... but the dark one, his hands were never far from the big knife on his hip...he gave her the creeps.  The other one seemed nice enough, but the SMG slung across his back had obviously seen some recent use.  They might make it...

A whistle from the front interrupted her observation, and she turned to see the caravan's water wagons creak into motion.  Time to go.

-------

The first day was pretty uneventful, but it had to be him, the creepy one, who landed in her tent with heatstroke.  Not that there was anything she could do for him... and not that he wanted any help from her.  She shuddered at the memory of the brief conversation.  A man who got that smashed the day before heading across the wastes must really be desperate, and she had a few guesses why.

Not much to do on days like this but think.  Unhealthy, she thought.  Not good to dwell on things that can't be changed.

The crack of gunfire was almost a welcome release form the boredom of the walk, and the adrenaline surge brought on by upcoming action sent her darting into cover...

Unfortunately the bush she leapt into was not welcoming, and the scratches the inch-long thorns would take a while to heal...regardless, it was preferable to perforation by the automatic rifle fire buzzing down the hill at the caravan.  The slaves were huddled in clumps, as close to the ground as they could get, unable to reach decent cover due to the shackles securing them to the water wagons.

A flash to Mickey's left had her again throwing herself to the ground, but it was a friendly, the new blood with the SMG, cradling it carefully in both hands and firing controlled bursts back into the bush at the as-yet unseen assailants.  Mentally shrugging, she decided am unknown ally was better than an unknown enemy, so she drew her sidearm and followed him as carefully as she could manage.

Off the trail that was easier said than done, and again she found herself looking up at the sky... her dive for cover at the next burst of hosilte fire had left her sliding back down the hill.  Swearing to herself, she clambered to her feet.  The submachinegunner was breaking in to a run, having spooked one of the assailants into falling back.  Gritting her teeth, Mickey took her pistol im both hands and began charging with him up the slope.

Before she knew it she had to leap over her ally as he lost his own footing and went down... she had barely regained her feet when she broke into the clearing at the top of the hill...and finally found herself face to face with one of her assailants.  Reflexes took over and he dropped before she could make a secnod thought... it took her a moment to realise the fatal barrage had come from her own weapon.

An ugly scream reminded her that she wasn't supposed to be the gung-ho one... she was the medic.  And from the sound of it, her ally behind her might need some assistance.  She turned and carefully made her way down the slope to where she'd last seen him, just in time to witness another ambusher drop like a rag doll, missing a significant part of his head.  Mentally thanking the sharpshooter who had saved her the trouble, she rushed to the fallen guard, muttering at the quantity of blood staining the bush around him.  Chest wound..ugly one too.  Hopefully the battle would be over soon; the meagre supplies she had been able to carry in her kit would barely be enough to staunch the bloodflow.

---

It had been Scorpion doing the sharpshooting, she later found out.  He and the crazy knife wielder had tag teamed the ambushers on the other side of the valley, and then turned their own weapons on them.  The knife wielder, Johnson she found out, was asking about his friend, Gabriel she'd finally found out his name was.  With the ambush defeated, she'd sent runners for her full surgical kit and managed to stitch the submachinegunner up.  He'd have to play it a bit quieter, and refrain from clowing around - he'd managed to fall in the campfire the second night, and while he'd known enough to put himself out quick smart, some of the more inebriated ingrates that regularly took this route had been less discerning - he should be okay.

---

Gabriel seemed to think he had a bit of a rapport with her...the second to last night he approached her about springing the slaves, while some of the other guards were off filling the quota from a nearby farm outpost.  Apparently he'd had a big fight with Johnson about the raid, and while she could sympathise with his feeling about the whole deal, she couldn't afford to lose the cash. 

When the raiding party returned with their prizes, Gabriel had some more success browbeating his comrade...who didn't seem so sure about his night's work, despite the pay bonus.  Johnson's look the next day was even darker than normal.  The conversation seemed to break the ice with the pair and her, however, and she spent some time getting to know both of them as they trudged towards their destination the next day.

---

That was pretty much it for the trip..her last, hopefully.  She had finally paid the last of her debts, and was free to make a clean split with the slavers.  What to do next, she wasn't sure... Maybe Gabriel and Johnson could use a medic..?

well... an interesting session.  As a guest player i landed a bit-part with the potential to be taken further and show up later.  Scorpion was played by a brand-new player, in fact an RP virgin.  He was a little lost but the character he played was fairly one-dimensional.  He seemed to have fun, but his final comment...(said with a grin)
"I probably wouldn't have hung out in the library with you guys when if we had been at school together..!"

other notables for the session were:
- the sheer number of 1's and double 1's i rolled, especially when making medical checks.  Some skill points were used to make sure i didn't kill myt patients. 
- the double 6 that i pulled from...somewhere.. that dropped my first opponent.  I hadn't rolled another 6 all night at that point.
- deathglider's continuing success with his knives.  Man, that guy can roll 6's!
- the malloryman's spectacular failure that got him gut-shot
- the conflict between Gabriel and Johnson over the slave raid... managed very effectively by both the players and the GM
- the quotable quotes that kept coming (although many of them were "you had to be there" moments so i won't try to do them justice.

[Altaem]

[themaloryman]

I'm getting to it! Some of us have work to do!

[themaloryman]

Okay, here it is. Session 3, part 1, as told by Gabriel. I might do a bridging story for session 2 later, but this is the session I found most compelling character-wise, so that will wait until I finish this. Part 1, because it's longer than I thought. I'll write the next part maybe tomorrow.<Part 2 later.

[deathglider]

[Nateman]

From the perspective of my character, introduced in the last RP session:

Having recently learned that travelling the wastes alone with a hand-cart full of recovered artifacts and sought-after tech was a great way to get yourself bound, gagged, robbed and left to the scorpions, Carick resolved to find some well-armed, well-trained muscle to help him on his salvage forays. Even if it meant sharing the spoils.

A chance encounter in the streets of Reno with an old treasure-hunting buddy seemed to be a sign that things were looking up. Carick quickly convinced Gabriel that he had totally forgiven him for disappearing suddenly from their last adventure along with a good proportion of the supplies, and offered to accompany them on their next job.

He soon found himself in familiar territory - the casino. While Gabriel and his friend Johnson disappeared to talk business with the casino big-wigs, Carick endeared himself to the gambling patrons by performing acrobatic feats whilst indulging in no small amount of cheap, nasty alcohol.

This task complete, Carick decided to test the prowess of his companions by setting them a small task. On his way into town he had spotted a cave which, if memory served correctly, was often used by bandits at various times as a hideout, meeting place and weapons stash. By nightfall, they were approaching the cave, and by the flicker of the campfire they saw that it was presently occupied by at least two hooded travellers. Hoping to relieve these individuals of their weapons with a minimum of bloodshed, Carick stepped into the circle of light thrown by the campfire with weapon drawn, bearing on the nearest stranger with an unwavering hand. Johnson had vanished into the night, but Gabriel was by Carick's side. He let off a warning shot at the feet of the travellers. At least that was the plan. Unprepared for the recoil of his weapon, the spray of bullets began at the hip of the hooded stranger, and peppered across his chest as he fell screaming into the fire.

Startled by the sudden outbreak of gunfire, Carick barely had time to yell before three more hooded travellers emerged from the cave, guns barking. Struck in the chest and hip, he went down like a sack of turnips. In the brief, explosive firefight to follow, Gabriel managed to take out two more of the enemy before his gun mysteriously failed him, and Carick got off one remarkable shot, nailing a fourth.

Had the final stranger not been silenced by the mysterious Johnson, emerging silently from the dark of the cave, our hero would not be alive to tell this tale. Carick gritted his teeth, thanked his companion for the save, and stitched his wounds, before recovering one of the least damaged sets of armour worn by the mysterious hooded gunmen.

It looks like these two will be worth sticking by....

[themaloryman]

Set just prior to the bulk of the previous post, while Nateman's character Carick is performing backflips, and Johnson and Gabriel (deathglider and I) are meeting with the 'Casino Big Wigs'. I think you can piece together what's happened by reading Shadow_80's post, followed by my previous one, then Nateman's, then this.<More later, including the hit!