boris the sprinkler and roleplayguy are now dead. It's Word Of God here, so no going back. If you guys read this, it's because you didn't play at all or very often and I needed the slots for other people. Thanks for (not) playing.
Dominique looked with wide eyes as the tank transformed in front of her. The hair in the back of her neck stood up as she started running down the road, not sure where to go, and as she ran, she repeated Zut.
Sorry I haven't been active for the last few days. I have been reading and just not feeling it at all. To be honest the above quote does sum this up for me.... the lack of direction or 'tangible' information from the GM has meant (to me) that the story does just appear to be simply unfolding at random rather than having any structure to it.
I prefer more control and more frequent input from a GM to guide and inform players as to options and consequences (which the players then discuss). I feel like all we've done since the story started is run around being chased.
This is just my preference and I just wanted to let you know my reasons for dropping out, sorry guys.
You are welcome to kill Beach off in as horrific a way as you want
Sorry I haven't been active for the last few days. I have been reading and just not feeling it at all. To be honest the above quote does sum this up for me.... the lack of direction or 'tangible' information from the GM has meant (to me) that the story does just appear to be simply unfolding at random rather than having any structure to it.
I prefer more control and more frequent input from a GM to guide and inform players as to options and consequences (which the players then discuss). I feel like all we've done since the story started is run around being chased.
This is just my preference and I just wanted to let you know my reasons for dropping out, sorry guys.
You are welcome to kill Beach off in as horrific a way as you want
Ah, okay. I do the more hands-on approach when I am face-to-face while GM'ing, while the time lag of forums provides less GM interaction. If you live in Melbourne, you could join the Melbourne D&D Facebook group (in which I am well-known) to some face time while RPing. PM me if you're interested.
In regards to the constant running around, the end of your scurrying is near. I'm just waiting for you to fight back. I'm not going to kill you guys at the first hint of realism - I play by Tropes.
The tank golem staggered back briefly, but pushed back through the smoke. The grenade did little more than scratch the paintwork, but before you can turn to run away a thickly-accented English voice cuts through the gunfire and explosions.
"Oi, get in 'ere! 'At walking tank aint gonna be stopped wid grenades!"
The source of the tremulous, warbling English matron voice is a heavy-set old woman in a doorway a block down the street, hurriedly beckoning you into a doorway. She is wearing so many shawls, aprons and layers of thick clothing that she is largely spherical, and gives you the impression she could roll over there and menace your knees quite painfully.
Hearing a fellow country womens voice, George sprinted after Dominique. "God damn it!" he muttered. "Give me a bloody plane anytime" thinking of the walking tank.
Unlike everyone else, Curtis still walked gingerly towards the tank. It had just sprouted legs, and began to shoot buildings, he was slightly worried about it. But hearing a scream come from the background, made him sprint forward and climb into the tank.
Finally, someone tries to hijack the tank. It's why I put it there.
The bipedal military monstrosity turns and flails at itself, attempting to swat the small figure from its frame. The old woman and few remaining resistance members turn to look as the climber reaches the hatch on the bottom of the frantically swaying mecha's neck and shoots it open with his submachine-gun.
Curtis shot open the door and clambered into the Mech. He not so gracefully slid in, landing straight on his face. "Ouch, Dammit!" he rubbed his nose a few times. He looked up to find a few people surrounding him, "Um, who are you guys?" he asked.
The Nazi drivers look in astonishment at the intruder in their cabin, mouth open. Nobody moves for what seems like an eternity, until one of the gunners slowly reaches for his pistol.
Seeing Curtis getting into the tank, George ran after him, climbing up the mech he climbed in following Curtis. He spotted one of the gunners going for his pistol and sprayed fire at him cutting him down.
"Dammit! I thought it would be safe" exclaimed Curtis as he dived behind a barrier. He took a few deep breaths, before taking out his gun and firing a few rounds at them, hoping to stop them from shooting at him.
One of the drivers goes down in a spray of red, and the rest of the crew fire back at Curtis' cover, creating dents and holes in the precision equipment. One of the mech's arms drops dead, and the whole body sickeningly lurches to one side.
Curtis rammed against the nearby wall, knocking his head and making his vision blurry. As his vision returned he saw everything in chaos in the Mech, it was still lurching violently to one side. H fired a few more bullets at everyone, hoping to get something else or make it stop.
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