Archived threads in /qst/ - Quests - 544. page

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Your name is LILISS.
You were recently imprisoned because of certain RACECAR DRIVING HABITS. You are now residing inside a small, really shitty CELL, and have nothing in your inventory but a PIECE OF CAKE and a BLUNT BUTTER KNIFE. Prison FUCKING SUCKS so far, so you may want to think about ESCAPING. You also think that an ACQUANTANCE of yours may be in a NEARBY CELL.

>what will you do?

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Welcome to the wasteland, you (the Anons) are in control of a small "haven" out in the harsh wasteland known as "the compound". Before the war this was a goverment installation inhabited by various pre-war scholars, and various workers for a nearby oil well.
But when the bombs dropped they where safe from the blast, but not for what came after. After many years the majority of the inhabitants died of radiation and other various diseases.

But the survivors worked hard to salvage and piece together whatever weapons, protection and vehicles they could. But the crown jewel of the "compound" is a giant dumpdruck that used to ship sand, gravel and dirt before the war, it is a mightly piece of machinery.
Now, armed with simple rifles along with spiked, black colored vehicles the surivivors of the Compound are trying to bring back the former glory of humanity before the war, all while trying to survive against the many dangers the wasteland throws at them.

(RULES)
>There are 3 types of resources: "Guzzoline", "Scrap" and "food"
>You can get these resources from various location around the wasteland. You an find small one time deposits when you choose to "Scavange". But you can also get a steady flow of resources from fixed location such as; oasises, oil wells and junkyards
>I will choose the most voted/chosen action you make. For example: "Explore (north)"
>When it comes to exploring or moving to various tiles requiers you to spend "guzzoline". And it varies how much Guzzoline is needed depending on the terrain. For example; You can move 2 tiles over normal terrain and only spend 1 unit of guzzoline, but when moving over hills or sand dunes cost 1 per tile, and to cross mountains or hazardous areas cost 3 untis of Guzzoline
>Traversing over dangerous and/or hazardous terrain means that you are risking your vehicles and that you must make a d100 for ever vehicle in that tile. They are destroyed on a result of 20 or less, but different special vehicles have modifiers in various enviorments and dangers
>Scrap is used when either repairing vehicles
>Food is consumed every turn
>other than that there are not much else, I will try to balance it out as the quest goes on

>Starting resources
>1 giant dump truck (special: Can move through any type of rough terrain for only 1 unit of Guzzoline, moves over normal terrain as normal)
>8 custom vehicles (crude but effective cars and trucks that are common aroudn the wasteland. nothing special about them)
>GUZZOLINE: 10 units [+1 every turn]
>SCRAP: 10 untis
>FOOD: 10 units
>PEOPLE: 20

Ok, let's start the quest

As the sun rises over the dry and dusty wasteland, the inhabitants of "the Compund are revving up their engines as they are about to explore the wasteland. Here is your first action to take.

How many vehicles are going out to explore?
>"Ride safely lone wolf"
>"Send out 3 of them!"
>"We are safer in numbers, send out all of them!"
>"We warparty now!!" Send out all of your vehicles

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Yuma, AZ
198X
5 years after the End

Handy dandy pastebin that an anon made
http://pastebin.com/0vWezvSE

You are 22 year old Hank Dalton. It's post apocalypse times but you're doing okay for yourself. You have a sweet-ass El Camino, two good friends and now a girlfriend maybe. Only issue is that there is a Wendigo after you. It used to be in the body of a 12 year old boy but after you destroyed that vessel with your car it's in a condor now. Last time on The Last Grease Monkey you killed a shitload of Wendigo-controlled coyotes, boned Maria and fixed your El Camino. Also you really want to go back out into the wasteland and salvage Maria's shitty station wagon for some reason. I am so sorry my niggas Chief and I had to go on a vision quest. I promise not to do any more 2 week intermissions without informing you first.

------------

After a few celebratory donuts in the El Camino, you decide to go see Chief at the hospital before attempting to salvage the wagon.

"I've got some shit to take care of over here," says Jim, "But hit me up on Channel 25 when you need me."

Once you're at the hospital, Chief is sitting in the lobby, seemingly waiting for you. His neck and a few other areas are wrapped in bandages but he seems fine otherwise.

"I was hoping you or Jim might show up," he says, "It's a long walk back to the ranch."

Pulling up to the ranch, you brace yourself for the stench of countless coagulating coyote carcasses. But you're not expecting to see them being loaded into a truck. Or Sheriff Morrison's Bronco right next to it, with the man himself leaning on the fender. The sheriff spits a mouthful of sunflower seed shells onto the ground and looks in your direction. His eyes look bloodshot.

"Had to clear this shit up," he says, "Health hazard. They weren't rabid, though. Had a couple tested, well the ones that still had heads." Well fuck, your stomach is a damn pincushion for nothing then.

Morrison looks over at Chief. "You know your neighbor, Greg Reynolds?"

"Neighbor's a strong word," says Chief, "But yeah, what about him?"

"Poor son of a bitch had his heart torn out this morning, right at the crack of dawn. Wife's hysterical, says some kinda giant green-eyed buzzard did it."

"Which way did it go?" asks Chief.

"What, the fuckin giant buzzard?" Morrison chuckles grimly. "Look Chief, I know you're into some wacky shit, hell I'll concede that you've seen some shit, but that's goddamn ridiculous."

Chief raises an eyebrow. "More ridiculous than 50 coyotes storming my ranch like its fucking Normandy?"

"Yes," says Morrison. "Look, you go talk to her if you want."

A) Go talk to Mrs. Reynolds
B) Try to talk to Morrison, try to convince him or something
C) Fuck this, just go get that delicious station wagon

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The year is 2016 and the zombie apocalypse is upon you! You get word of zombies over the TV and you are mildly surprised. You hop off your couch and look around your empty home. You never had much family to worry about, no one to care about you, really. You don't have strong ties to any people so you're well set for psychological impact. You're emotionally detached, and hopefully this goes well for you.

You live in a two-story home by yourself, your girlfriend having left you and taken the dog a month ago. She couldn't stand the fact you had a gun, and your dog didn't know what was wrong. Sucks, but now the apocalypse is here.

You live in the suburbs of a heavily populated city, bustling and filled to the brim with people. The news says that its in your area, perhaps a kilometer away from you. It'll likely spread incredibly quickly to your area, if it hasn't already.

Roll a 1d1000 to determine how prepared you are for this shit.

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You and Goto stare at Yamato so long she starts to get nervous.

“W-what!?” she stammers, clutching the Super Soaker like she might have to beat you off with it. “W-w-we're s-st-anding and w-walking and talking and... stuff,” she finishes lamely. “So what's so strange about ships being alive!?”

“Have you-”
“Ever think-”

You and Goto catch yourselves before talking over each other. He cuts his eyes towards you as a sly smirk scrawls across his face.

“So.”

“Mmmhmm,” you agree.

“An impasse.”

“A duel?” you offer.

“Do you-”

“Catan?” you venture.

“Fuck you for invoking the Dr. Who of board games,” Goto growls.

“Don't you mean the Battleship?”

Goto narrows his eyes at you. “Fill your hand you son of a bitch!”

“W-what are you two-” Yamato tries to intervene, but it's too late. You and Goto are already drawing your hands back, cocked to fire -

“JANKEN PON!”

- and that fucker Goto wins with paper to your rock. You sink back into your chair, giving Goto the I'm-watching-you eyepoke - there will be a reckoning. Smug in victory, he turns to Yamato. “Hey, Yams?”

“Y-yes?”

“Ever think of how many guys jerked off in the rain locker?”

Yamato squeaks like a punctured tire, the pitch rising into inaudible ranges as her face turns beet red. She sucks in a breath, squeezes her eyes shut and bellows at you. “I WAS DOCKED THE WHOLE WAR THEY NEVER DID THAT ON BOARD-”

“They never touched the sides of the showers when they got in, did they?” Goto continues, voice lilting with unholy glee.

Yamato's tirade dies in her throat, her eyes popping open to stare at her commander in pure, unadulterated horror. You can watch the possibility, the idea dripping down her spine like a cold poison, paralyzing her body as it washes through her, ripping down everything she once knew.

“A Love Hotel,” you add-

“-full of SEAMEN!” Goto finishes with glee.

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Previous Thread
>>182416
Character Sheet & Allies
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jI0aGxA_2h3SAcPYri-1fdgskbK3IbtfEzSLJ7VY9gU/edit
Twitter: @QuestingQM

If your new, we're playing Renoxiezius, the ice dragon of Sweden, vassal of the King, and all around bad-ass. Who is also fat.
Last time, we finished up the Dungeon, adding three rooms which are a Laboratory, Library, and a Distillery, additionally we blew all our money on books of magic and political theory, additionally the King has asked us to disavow the N.C.F.S, which are our allies. And hit the bump limit like a motherfucker.

"So, you refuse to disavow the N.C.F.S?"
"Utterly, and completely."
"What if... I offered you some pay?"
"Money?'
"Yes, all you have to do is say the N.C.F.S are violent terrorists."
Actions
>Disavow your organization, you don't need them to rise to power anyways. Also money is nice.
>Refuse to, these are your people.
>Write-In

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Twitter: @GuardTemp
Previous Threads: >http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=RAPIDFIRE
Recap: You went to the local water facility to help your twin sister, Kick Lee, take down a necromancer who's engaged with a previous villain. Unfortunately you got knocked out and then woke up in some tomb with a missing arm. You found a convenient cybernetic arm lying right next to you at least. Wandering around you see dead people littering the area before finding a breach in the tomb's walls.

>Highest of 1d10 of the first 2-8 replies within 5-20 minutes
>Rolls of 9 and 10 are automatically accepted
>A roll of 10 in particular would improve the situation
>If a roll of 1 or 2 is accepted (due to lack of opposing rolls) will complicate the situation
>If two or more replies score the same highest roll, both will be combined into a multi-action update

You are Kick Lee, a kick-ass karate practitioner who doesn't feel so kick-ass right now. You just reached an improvised exit that exposes you to hot, arid air. You don't know where you are exactly but it's probably somewhere far away since your Twin Telepathy is receiving some weak reception.

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You stand on the marble balcony of your presidential palace... well it's more autocratic but you don't tell the UN or the International Criminal Court that.

Elections are coming up. Apparently your legislature decided that elections were a "good thing" and are needed to "preserve the rights of the citizens" so that it would "garner support from the democratic nations around us so we don't starve like neglected dogs due to recent droughts". You scoff at the notion, yet inside you feel a bit worried. You did a lot of bad things to get here, I mean, a lot. Surely there must be some way to keep in power?

Well, we'll cover the basics first.
>What is your country name?
>What kind of government does it have?
>Is it more communist or capitalist?
>What majorities and minorities make up your country?
>Are you going to have problems with repressed groups of citizens?
>Are you going to take a harsh or mild approach to staying in power?

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Wizard or warrior?
Light or dark?
Bandit? Loner?
Peasant...??
Who are you

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Wow there buddy! Before you can start this shitty quest, you're going to have to go through the dangerous task known as CHARACTER CREATION. Yes, you heard me right you goddamn bastard, you can put your filthy smudges over the PROTAGONIST and taint them with the ideas from the darkest parts of your cerebrum. So get ready to give this random citizen a
-NAME
-INTEREST
-FLAW

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Thread 2
[s]Read this if you didn't see the first:
http://the-golem-census.blogspot.com/[/s]
[s]When we last left our heroes(?), they were about to leave a crummy oasis settlement.[/s]

As you cross town, Carver spills dirty jokes and crude tales about his past, though it's sometimes hard to tell the difference. Maybe the bellowing laughter at his own stories is a bit more hearty for ones that are true?

You wonder for a moment if he's trying to be more personable, then shake your head. You've never met someone like this before, but considering how he keeps nearly forgetting you're even with him, there's a strong sense he'd be equally obnoxious whether you were coming along or not. His brand of humor reminds you a bit of children's you'd played with when you were younger, even though he must be into his fifties by now.

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Twitter: @BeleagueredQM
Pastebin: http://pastebin.com/FEc6v8FP

Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Beleaguered%20Prince%20Quest

===============

You are Prince Meirion auk Gwyrren, the only sane man in a royal family with dubious concepts of strategy, justice, taxation, and governance in general. You have made it your goal in life to keep your family on the throne and your head firmly attached to your body.

You're currently on your way to have dinner with your family. Having a meal with your siblings twice in one day is not something you look forward to, but after the time you spent with Olwen, you'll probably be half-asleep for most of it, so it might not be so bad.

Speaking of which…

"You know you're going to have to tell your father about us, right?"

"Probably," you very reluctantly agree. "He'll at least need to know why House Vaughan isn't paying any taxes, not that he's likely to notice if I don't tell him."

"The Crown Prince defies his station to marry a commoner for love, while the second prince latches on to the first woman he knows who can give him money and an army." Olwen chuckles and pats you on the shoulder. "Your father will be so disappointed in you."

"It's going to be horrible," you say. "I don't know if it's better or worse that I'll have to talk to him about it in private."

"You won't bring it up during dinner?"

You shake your head. "I don't want to overshadow my brother's marriage," you say. "I don't want to make a big deal of it yet."

"That's quite considerate of you," Olwen says.

"Not really," you say. "It's just proper etiquette."

"Speaking of etiquette, I was wondering how we should sort out our living arrangements," Olwen says. "Your room's certainly big enough for two people."

>"That sounds like a good idea to me."
>"I'd rather keep separate rooms, bur you can come visit me whenever you want."
>"It's probably best if we limit our dalliances for the moment. We do have work to take care of."

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You are an ex-noble. You were stripped of your land, titles and honor by your king, for your so-called "treachery". By your successful military campaigns you were able to amass a small fortune -- a fortune you have spent on gathering men and supplies to build a new home for yourself.

You have settled in the forests of Meadale, where the Elves are said to dwell (though you have seen none thus far) and where the air is always fresh.

The first season went well -- you built living quarters, a farm, a granary. You discovered an ore vein. You made contact with the locals and even entered into a trade agreement with them.

But this is only the beginning. Do you have the leadership to make this settlement into a thriving haven? Do you have the fortitude to defend it from all evils? In short, can you build a fortress to stand against time itself?

Post brother, and let's find out!

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Your name is Silica Wilson, and you are a member of the Vanguard. A mercenary force tasked with scouting the ruins of the old world for Pre-Tech, gathering it and selling it back in Haven city.

Recently you and your team were ordered to follow a lead about a piece of pre-tech called Chromescore. Apparently it is located within one of the abandoned arcologies located somewhere in Germany.

You had set out around two weeks ago, the travel time had been extended multiple times due to the shifting nature of the decaying concrete jungle that used to be Berlin. Other than that it was going smooth until Tag, your teams sniper had spotted a pair of Stalkers trailing your convoy.

You hated Stalkers. They are creepy looking creatures with a hunched body and long slender limbs that end with scythe like talons. But before you could expand on your distaste for those monsters the convoy grinds to a halt.

“Why have we stopped?” You call out, not taking your eyes off of the landscape behind you.

“There’s another blockage in the road, looks like we will have to turn back!” Atto the teams engineer replies.

Shit, if we turn back now we’ll run into those Stalkers for sure. Two won’t be a challenge but you know that there are always more nearby.
You think about what the best course of action will be.

>Turn back and try to avoid the Stalkers.

>Stay here lure the Stalkers in and set your own ambush.

>Turn back and try to rush the stalkers ambush before they can spring it.

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Previous thread: >>187139
You lay on your side, stunned by the blow of being thrown into the wall. You attempt to get up but being dazed seems to make that extremely difficult. The security bot towers over you but hasn't made a move yet.