Succeed or Die: Another Absurd Premise

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>1199667

Build time machine and travel back in time before we become late.

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>>1199690
You never payed attention in Chronal Mathematics. In fact you slept through every class and half assed the homework. You have no clue how to build a time machine. So you drag a cardboard box out of the basement and write 'Time Machine' on the side. Gods you're desperate. You sit in the box feeling stupid for a minute and then the world sorta falls sideways and you feel like every atom in your body is being stretched around the earth in a complicated pretzel web of you.

And then it stops.

You're sitting in a box in your room. The bed is currently occupied by your TIME CLONE from a while ago. Or are you the TIME CLONE? You aren't really sure. Existential Philosophy is another class you slept through. Still the Clock reads 5:30 AM. That's plenty early. Yeah! You have no idea how that worked but it did and you're awesome!

What do you do?

Rolled 3, 2 = 5 (2d6)

>>1199709
We've made an amazing discovery! Fuck our GENERIC SANDWICH SHOP, let's go sell our time machine to the nearest Chinese/Russian spy.

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Yeah, your GENERIC SANDWICH SHOP job is kind of bullshit. You could make a real stack of cash with a working time machine. Though you have to wonder about the intentions of those who might want such a device. Ah fuck it, you slept through that Ethics Seminar. What do you care if someone abuses the time-space continuum.

It's at this moment that your SHITTY PHONE lights up with a notification. Your TIME CLONE shifts in the bed but remains sleeping. That was a close one. Who knows what time shenanigans would have happened if you interacted with your past self?

The notification is to a reply for an ad you apparently set up three weeks ago to sell your time machine. Looks like your FUTURE TIME CLONE got bored of waiting and bought you some time. What a nice guy. In any case the offer seems to originate from that PERFECTLY NORMAL FACILITY down the road. That's convenient. If you can just carry the thing down there you could be payed right away. That would improve your CASH stat from NONEXISTANT to OVERFLOWING. That's a significant step up.

-CHRONAL STABILITY has fallen slightly

What do you do?

Rolled 6, 5 = 11 (2d6)

>>1199801
Let's find a cardboard box to protect our time machine, we can't let it get hurt on the way.

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>>1199825
Yes, an excellent idea. You head down to the basement to find a cardboard box. The only one large enough is high up on a shelf. You lean a ladder against the shelf and climb up to it. Just as you reach the box the ladder wobbles and you tumble down to certain doom...or at least serious injury. Luckily you land on a mattress that you could have sworn wasn't there a few minutes ago. You hear muffled whimpering from a corner and step in something wet and sticky on the way out. But you got what you came for so you aren't going to think too much of it.

-CHRONAL STABILITY has fallen to 8.

You've safely packaged the TIME MACHINE

What do you do?

Rolled 3, 6 = 9 (2d6)

>>1199861

Try to travel to the future and find out the lottery number.

That way we can earn a lot of money.

Rolled 1, 6 = 7 (2d6)

>>1199861
You know, if we ran into ourself once we exit, it means we have to use the time machine in order to meet ourselves.

>>1199882
Well it couldn't hurt to travel to the future and learn those lottery numbers could it? That way you could get even more money. You could get so much money that it wouldn't even fit in your teenage conception of CASH. Yeah! that sounds like a worthy pursuit.

You unpack the Time machine. One last adventure with the ol' girl. You remember all that time ago when you first wrote 'Time Machine' on its side. Truly it's almost oddly nostalgic how fondly you remember that moment. It's almost like it happened years ago and not several hours from now. Ah well, time's a wasting.

You hop into the box and ZOOM into the future.

Moments later the time machine reappears in a cloud of choking smoke and fumes. You crawl from the glowing cardboard of its chassis and rest against one of the walls. Damn that was a thrilling adventure. There was combat and intrigue. Danger! Excitement! You barely managed to get back with those lottery numbers in hand. You lift up the piece of paper. containing the winning numbers for not one, but three different lotteries. It was harrowing, but worth it. You hope you haven't fucked up time too much in doing so.

-CHRONAL STABILITY: FUCKED! ! !
-You are now wanted by the TIME POLICE.

What do you do?

Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>1199911

Go and learn martial arts from watching chinese kung fu movies.

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You feel the long arm of the time law reaching out for you. There's no escape unless..

You look towards the time machine. The floor crackles as the durable cardboard cools from its recent adventure. Looks like you're taking it out of retirement. Time hums around you as you repeatedly use the time machine to watch several hundred chinese kung fu movies. You practice and practice, imitating the flashy moves on screen.

-your KUNG FU is now MASTER level
-CHRONAL STABILITY: DETERIORATING, TIME UNRAVELING

You're in the middle of a complicated move in a pivotal action scene when a time rift tears a hole in your living room. A man in a blue coat, old fashioned pants and a stylish wig bursts into your living room. The 'Star Spangled Banner'plays loudly behind him. Patriotism oozes into your living room, painting everything red white and blue. The man grimaces, his grin wooden and stern. He holds up a badge of bright Chronomium. "Agent Washington, Time Police." He growls. "step away from the temporal device. You're under arrest!"

Then an eagle flies past and clamps a big clunky yellow device to your time machine.

What do you do?

>>1199994
Aww shit the coppers are here. Quick, take his eagle hostage, grab the time machine and high tail it out of there.

Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d6)

>>1200000
Alright, this time without forgetting my roll.

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You quickly grab your TIME MACHINE. Despite the big clunky chunk of metal attached to it, it's still pretty portable. You trap the eagle underneath it and hold the flaps closed, locking the bird inside. Then you run for your life.

George Washington draws a plasma rifle from his back and blasts away as you flee. You watch as household objects are incinerated before your eyes but you manage to escape out the back door. You flee into the woods.

Several minutes later you crawl out from the dense foliage of the forest. Your stained shirt and boxers are now coated in dirt. Your appearance has dropped from DISHEVELED to DISGUSTING. You clutch the TIME MACHINE to your chest. The eagle within flaps angrily and tries to loosen your grip. You ignore it and make your way to the road. That's when you see it. The monolithic building seems to glow in the light of the rising sun. Giant letters adorn its roof. "PERFECTLY NORMAL FACILITY" They read. "Not A Secret Spy Base" Assures a sign from the tall fence that surrounds the facility.

You can hear strains of 'America The Beautiful' slowly growing closer. The cries of battle eagles echo through the chill morning air. George Washington is still hot on your tail.

What do you do?

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

>>1200040

Challenge George Washington in kung fu!

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'America the Beautiful' gets closer and closer. As you look up into the morning sun, rising over the rooftops you realize what you must do. The time machine falls from your hands, landing with a clunk and an annoyed squawk. You turn on your heel in time to see George Washington rising from the underbrush, a red white and blue angel of death.

You move swiftly, almost to quick to see. A powerful kick knocks the rifle from the hands of the time warped first president. You follow it up with a double backflip and land in a perfect WATCHFUL CRANE stance. George Washington grinds his wooden teeth in irritation. His eagles flit around the two of you as you engage in an epic staredown.The camra swings around, dramatically framing the scene in cinematic glory. Jump cut to a close up of your face. "Let us duel like men, in honorable combat" the subtitles at the bottom of the screen declare as your lips move to voice something in another language. George Washington pushes the sidearm he was drawing down into its holster with a huff. His eyes lock with yours. The challenge accepted. He lifts his fist in the vaunted PRESIDENTIAL PLATFORM. He watches you enigmatically beneath the pale white of his wig, still perfect despite the rough conditions.

You have entered combat with GEORGE WASHINGTON

What do you do?

Rolled 5, 6 = 11 (2d6)

Use our mighty morphin' powers to not die and grow laser turrets (retractable) out of our back to combat Georgie.

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>>1200492
The battle is pitched. George Washington is more than your equal in hand to hand combat. He VETOED your OCELOT PUNCH. Layed down a powerful FILLIBUSTER which you just barely countered with a MANTIS KICK. He was too strong, he was landing too many hits.

HEALTH at 50%.

That's when you realized the truth, the power held deep inside. You spun away with a theatrical leap. The pain that coursed through your body was excruciating, but you had no choice. You had to...morph. Twin laserturrets rose from your shoulders as George charged forward for a finishing blow your turrets spun to life, barraging the area in red beams of energy. Smoke and lasers filled the air. There was the hum of your spinning turrets, the loud ZAP of the lasers. The dismayed cries of fallen eagles rose in great cacopphany.

The Forest was shredded and smoldering. But as the smoke cleared George Washington rose, his powerfully muscled form scorched and burned from the focused fire. He was injured but not out.

A shot rings out and his head caves in from a high powered sniper bullet. The sound of rotors fills the air, an unmarked helicopter hangs in the air above the scene. Burnt feathers and charred vegetation flit through the air as the battleground turns into a windtunnel.

"Do you have the Machine Comrade?" A voice echoes from above, almost drowned out by the deafening sound of the rotors. A burly man in a form fitting black jumpsuit hangs from one of the helicopters skids. He hefts the largest sniper rifle you've ever seen.

What do you do?

Rolled 6, 2 = 8 (2d6)

>>1200692
wake up as an eighty year old man fresh from his afternoon nap.

Afterwards draw time machine on a cardboard box

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>>1200718
The bright rays of the summer sun slowly lift you into consciousness. You shift in the warm comfort of your reclined beach chair. Your eyes open a crack and you glance out across the beautiful waves that wash back and forth. The lulling sound a comfort to your old ears. You feel your laser turret ache where a Time Cop had got in a lucky shot. That was a long time ago. Centuries even given how you continued to manipulate time even after you almost died to George Washington and then later a Russian spy riding a secret chinese helicopter. Damn you were dumb in those days.

you are now an OLD FOGEY. You wear nothing but a pair of bright green holo-swimming trunks. Your appearance is SCARRED BADASS.

A beautiful woman in a holographic bikini runs past after a neo-frisbi. You admire the show for a few minutes before taking a sip from a fruity cocktail pushed into your hands by an overdressed waiter. He bows and vanishes in a flash of sparks. The drink shakes in your hand and suddenly a light bursts forth from the colorful straw. A man in an old fashioned business suit flickers into view, sitting on the rim of your glass.

"Heh, It wasn't easy to find you old man." the man on your glass gives you a charismatic grin, perfect teeth glimmering in his holographic visage. "Enjoying your retirement?"

What do you do?

"Maybe I don't want to be found"
Ready turrets

>>1200781
(No dice, but I'll let it slide. This is just more exposition)

The man laughs. "You're a paranoid sonnofabitch I'll give you that." he scratches his chin and looks up at you. "Well, you see I found something you might like." he holds out his hand and another hologram leaps from his fingers. An ancient dilapidated cardboard box spins before your eyes. On its side the words 'TIME MACHINE' are dimly visible. A bright yellow clamp rests on one of its corners. "Come on old man. How about one more job?"

Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d6)

>>1200815
depends, is it diamonds or CYBER-diamonds.
slowy reach for your .45 magnum to ice this mole

One more job eh?

Rolled 4, 6 = 10 (2d6)

>>1200844
Wups

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>>1200832
"Hehehe, you know I only provide the best. Come on, we've worked together before. It'll be just like old times?"

The glass shatters into a million shards which vanish into harmless dust. The transmitter goes silent, but you know how to get back in contact if you need to. The other denizens of the beach stare at you, shocked. A woman screams. You hear footsteps on the sand, likely the mecha-security force coming to apprehend you.

You rise, your trusty magnum by your side and turn to see 6 man-sized mechas closing in. Minor response team, automatic. You could take them out no problem, but maybe there's another way out of this situation?

What do you do?

Rolled 2, 5 = 7 (2d6)

>>1200815
Reach into time portal and pull out an 8 foot long claymore from medieval scottland. Using psychic powers, launch the claymore into his face.

>>1200858
meant for >>1200853

Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>1200858
This, haha

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>>1200858
Time wavers beside you. You've never been able to create anything quite like that box, but your time watch can do amazing things. The claymore manifests before you. It only takes a second to launch it through the two closest drones.

People flee the area as your claymore whips over their heads and chops a false palm in two. It hangs there for a moment, suspended by your psychic powers as you ready yourself for the other 4 robots.

Panic has overwhelmed the beach. People scramble over themselves to get away from you. It's not long before the beach is clearer than it had been all day.

You notice shutters dropping down on some of the windows of the large resort behind the advancing robots. You must have triggered another alarm if they're going into lockdown. It won't be long until they pull out the big guns.

What do you do?

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

Escape the simulation

Rolled 4, 5 = 9 (2d6)

>>1200885
This is too easy, get bored, and jump into safehouse that rests outside of space time continuum and look over that file he gave me.

>>1200885
scare away the robits by slapping on a paor of shades, placing our hand on the revolver and ask "did I fire five shots or none?"

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>>1200895
You grit your teeth and dispatch each of the robots in quick succession. it felt good, easy too. Perhaps a little too easy? The man in the suit flickered to life again beside you. "You should really think about my offer. You're wasting away in here." He grinned that devilish grin of his. Gods you hated that smarmy bastard.

Something was definitely wrong, but fighting took precedence. A Totori gunship spun over the beach, promising to drop a top notch kill squad in 40 seconds or less. Your laser turrets shredded it in 5. That didn't stop the assault. More robots, a mech, and a game warden in power armor all fell to gun or beam or psychic sword. "Too easy old man, eh? Too easy." the bastard had a point. You had taken down a small army at this point and weren't even winded. Your situation seemed dire but your escape was easily inevitable. It felt a little fake. "When are you gonna realize?" the figure said, flickering. "They're fucking with you" He dissolved into corrupted artifacts, erased as though he never was. The damage was done however. You started to see the cracks in the system. You lifted your hand to what remained of your hair.

"OH SHIT!" the nasaly whine of a nerdy tech echoed in your hearing. "HE'S AWAKE! The Sim Failed, fuck!" Wires and tubes entered your old body in various places. Straps held your arms and legs. The hum of machinery was everywhere. And right in front of you, as if a blatant insult, was a wide console bearing the logo of the TIME POLICE.

What do you do?

Rolled 5, 1 = 6 (2d6)

Fly through the roof super man style

Rolled 3, 5 = 8 (2d6)

>>1200974
>Break free from our restraints and unleash the strongest punch you've ever thrown to wipe out the entire squad.

>>1201008
This then mine

>>1201007
You rip free of your restraints without a second thought. They couldn't hold you. Ranks of time cops filed into the room, plasma rifles charged, but it was too late. You tore through ceiling after ceiling, rising through a vast subterranean facility. You could sense it crumbling behind you. It served the fuckers right. You finally emerged through the top of a large skyscraper. The number of floors above and below the ground must have been innumerable. In any case it would soon be rubble as it shook and collapsed below your floating form.

Your neural comm hummed to life and the AR function of your cyber-eye lit up. The man in the slick suit now floated in front of you. "Ehhh, Eeeeeeh? Now that's the time travelling, asshole, badass we all know and love." The bastard grinned again. "And to imagine if it weren't for my digital genius you'd still be playing silly games with the Time Cops." Cocky AI motherfucker.

What do you do?

>>1201035
Save the world from the alien armada by flying godzilla into space and mowing down the aliens with your flaming toothpick gatling gun.

Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d6)

>>1201050
Oops, forgot the dice

>>1201060
Nice

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>>1201050
While Crome The AI chatted away in AR you saw the city for what it was. And then it shifted, it changed. Something was very wrong with the world. A giant lizard-like monster crashed through a nearby skyscraper and launched a blast of fiery energy through another. Alien ships descended upon the city from above, lasers blasting various portions of the city into oblivion.

You can feel the bonds of reality fraying. The hum of a great machine twisting the world to meet its needs. Voices in your ear, voices in your head. You cleared your head, focus on the job.

Your OCELOT UPPERCUT sent godzilla into low earth orbit, your own body hot on his tail. "Heh, I forgot how often this sort of shit happens around you. What makes you so special eh?" It was a question you'd never thought about before. The cardboard box swam in your head. Where had it really come from?

>Fate has begun to take notice. Failure chance has risen. from now on any roll between 2 and 5 will result in failure and death.

But the Armada...it blocks out the sun. The threat wavers in your vision. You clench your fist, cybernetics and morphing flesh combining, twisting into a new shape. You lift your arm to the sky and rain toothpick death upon the bulbous alien ships.

Their shattered hulls burn around you as your gun shudders to a stop. What few you didn't destroy flee into the darkness of space, spike-drives charging as they seek less defended prey.

"HAHAHA! You better run!" Crome shouts after them, his digital form shimmering in the light of burning wreckage.

What do you do?

Backflip into the Bermuda dodecahedron
(Like the Bermuda Triangle but better)

Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>1201202

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>>1201170
You backflip through the air. Lines of force curl around you. 12 sides, 12 sides, 12 sides.

Crome hums nervously. "Are you sure about thi~"

And then you're through. 12 sides, 12 sides, 12 sides.

The world twists, reality moves sideways and you feel like every atom in your body has been stretched around the earth. And then...you open your eyes. Bright sunlight shines in through a familiar window. A teenager's bedroom lies in all its disarray before you. A bed rests, half-made.

Your cyber eye is malfunctioning. It can't connect to any AR server of any type. An error message blinks in the bottom of your eyesight.
And for once. Crome is entirely silent. His avatar gone. It's probable even his anachronism hardened server can't reach this far.

You glance at the clock. The red digital number shifts. 12:40.

-CHRONAL STABILITY: UNCERTAIN

What do you do?

Rolled 4, 6 = 10 (2d6)

>>1201253
Try and eat a special sandwich you've been saving ever since you were 3 years old, now that things are getting complicated.

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>>1201269
Your reverie lasts only a few seconds before you bolt for the bedside table. The drawer is torn off its hinges. In and amongst various old journals and other ancient artifacts of your past you find it. It looks like a silver sandwich baggie. It was a silver sandwich baggie. Something given to you a long time ago by someone you could never quite remember. Here it was now, something you'd spent years trying to get your hands on. The bag fell open in your hands. The scent something like honey and fried electronics. You pulled the strange sandwich from its prison.

It felt fresh. The bread, well it wasn't really bread but a synthetic bread-like substance invented in the late 2050's. This was one hell of an anachronism. You take a bite. It's flavor is sweet and nutty with an electric tang. You wolf the thing down and feel it sink into your stomach. Something moves in your gut and a wave of pain passes through your ancient body, forcing you to your knees.

A pulse radiates out from you. Bright light fills your vision. For a moment everything seems to stand still.

CHRONAL STABILITY: STATIC#@(**&^$%~!

The feeling passes quickly and you realize there's a new component in your cyberware. Something connected itself to the systems in your spine and heart. A strange device, connected somehow to the temporal stream. And now to you.
A missing piece settles into place.
...
...
...
And then an enormous eagle bursts through your window and tries to tear your eyes out with its razor sharp claws.

What do you do?

Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d6)

>>1201419
Punch the eagle with the hardest punch you can muster.

>>1201626
You slam your fist into the chest of the eagle. Ripples surround the creature and time twists.

You punch it into last week.

That was a significantly more powerful punch than you had been expecting. You find yourself launched into next week, crashing right through all the days in between. Untold chaos has been wreaked on the timestream, but you sure as hell fucked that eagle up.

CHRONAL STABILITY: STATIC&&#@###!~

It is now next week.
The room is dark, moonlight shines in from the window but everything is almost exactly as you left it a week ago.

What do you do?

(I'm pretty tired so I think I'll go to bed. I'll probably pick this back up tomorrow.)

>>1201666
(Thanks for running the game!)

I'll wait til tomorrow or let someone else choose the next action. Whichever comes first.

Rolled 3, 6 = 9 (2d6)

>>1201657
This is it. The final battle is coming. We have a special hidden arsenal for this occasion.
Time for some upgrades.
.
.
.
get it? TIME!

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>>1202519
All the pieces were falling into place. The final battle approaches. You won't be caught off guard this time. You'll be prepared. Your new cybergear humms. You can feel the placement of the TIME MACHINE, still lost in the fabric of space time. You can reach it now, but so will your foes. You'll need some upgrades. You head down to the basement, stepping over the blood splatter that marked where one of your TIME CLONES was severely injured. You toss aside the shelving unit, revealing a PERFECTLY NORMAL CONCRETE WALL. You press your palm into its center and it warms and then shifts. The advanced material warps and melds, shifting aside to reveal a secret space. As you step in the lights come on. Weaponry, cyberware, and all manner of technological gadgetry line the walls. The pride of the collection stands before you. A suit of CHRONO ARMOR.

You have aquired CHRONO ARMOR. Your appearance is now DESTRUCTION INCARNATE.

You step into the powered suit and it closes around you, integrating with your cyber suite. A HUD pops up in your vision as the futuristic electronics power up. A familiar voice hums in your ear. "So this is it boss?" Crome's voice is crackly and full of interference. "No wonder they never found your stash...It's chronally locked. But if I can find you now...so can they. This is the end of the road isn't it?"

You ignore him for now, and begin weaponizing the suit. Almost every piece of tech on the wall ends up in some pouch, pocket, or chamber. You let your turrets slide from your shoulders, a hasty upgrade kit improving them to chronally stable plasma. You grab an enormous GRAV GUN From its place on the wall and heft it over your shoulder.

As you turn to leave there is an electric crackling sound. Your HuD alerts you to a high energy Time Rift opening just outside your saferoom. A metalic hand grips the doorframe, cracking the advanced concrete that once guarded your stash. Two glowing red eyes emerge from the darkness and a metal face comes into view. Red White and Blue light seeps into the space and you hear the strains of a heavily synthesized rendition of 'Hail to the Chief' begin to play. Your arch nemisis approaches, metal jaw clenched, mechanical form smoking and steaming from recent time travel. Mecha-Washington towers over you in the small space. "THIS IS THE END" his synthesized voice crackled. "NO MORE SHALL YOU THREATEN TIME".

What do you do?

Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>1203641
It's time. Put in your own mixtape at full blast and unleash hell on him.

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>1203641
Duck behind the CONVENIENTLY PLACED BOXES in the middle of the room and engage Mecha-Washington with the GRAV GUN

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>>1203658
"Crome" you growl. "Activate MIXTAPE 38. "On it Boss." You hear a soft click and then as the beat rises you charge into your foe.

Plasma flashes back and forth. You take a HYDRAULIC UPPERCUT to the chin and flip backwards. You spiral in midair and fire a time missile at Mecha-Washington. He lifts his arms to block and the explosion knocks him backwards a step. As you land you're forced to roll out of the way as a powerful TACHYON BEAM ripped a section of your bunker into nonexistance. For several minutes you dodged around the monstrous machine, unable to get close due to the sheer concentration of plasma fire Mecha-Washington was able to output. You traded fire for a time, neither able to get a clear advantage.

Something had to be done, you wouldn't be able to last like this. There was one trick you still had up your sleeve though. You clench a fist and charge forward, taking a plasma bolt to the chest in your risky maneuver. Your fist glows with blue energy and you slice a hole in local time, flipping through as the TACHYON BEAM strikes. You popped out 5 seconds later landing in close. You slam the barrel of your GRAVITY GUN under Mecha-Washington's chin.

You pull the trigger.

The enormous mech stands still for a second then slowly topples and falls over backwards with a loud CRUNCH.

You have defeated MECHA-WASHINGTON. Your BADASSERY has increased.

What do you do?

Rolled 3, 6 = 9 (2d6)

>>1203842
This is just the start. Mecha-Washington was only one of the many Time Police officers, and they won't stop looking for us, now. We have to create a time bomb, open up a time rift, travel to their base, and wipe them out forever.

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>>1203925
Battered and bruised as you were from the fight, you still live. That meant it was only a matter of time before you destroyed the TIME POLICE once and for all. You walked over to the fallen Mecha-Washington and stomped down hard on the chest. Without its powered shields your foot crushes the metal and all beneath it. You feel the pressure on the chronosphere release.

You are no longer locked to this time.

You feel a tug in the pit of your stomach and close your eyes. The Reality falls away. The familiar stretching sensation of time travel overtakes you.

You open your eyes to the blinding effect of Anti-light. An endless void stretches around you. At its center lies your old TIME MACHINE. The cardboard seems simultaneously brand new, and rotting away. The bright yellow clamp still holds the thing shut. You tear it off, tossing the device into emptiness. The flaps slide open and a bright golden eagle rises from within. It looks at you with baleful eyes and prepares to open its beak. You grab it and force it into the box. Not now, not yet. You grab the TIME MACHINE and feel the familiar tug of normal time. The void disintegrates.

You find yourself in a sterile hallway. Alarms balare, lights gleam red. The sigil of the TIME POLICE adorns a wide wall. There's a skylight above that opens into a starry sky. You've arrived. The infamous HQ of the TIME POLICE is an enormous spacestation designed to exist upon multiple dimensions of time. It is the perfect command center for a time regulating organization. It is a GEM of FATE. And you're going to destroy it.

TIME PRIVATES pour into the hallway. They have you surrounded, a fact they make very clear over their shoutboxes. A bristling array of weapons are pointed at you. "PUT THE BOX ON THE GROUND" A gruff sergeant's voice echoes over the din of jackboots and charging plasma rifles. You let it fall. The flaps open, the bird rises. It doesn't take long for the cops to realize their predicament. "GET SOME INTERDICTION ON THAT BOX!" The privates charge, trying to distract your attention as a specialist makes for the box. You mow them down without hesitation. Every weapon firing, every piece of cyberware working at 100%. Just a little longer. Your power, already low from the fight with Mecha-Washington, is dwindling and still more TIME POLICE swarm towards you. Just a little longer. One of your plasma turrets sparks as concentrated fire finally takes it down. You try to fire a TIME MISSILE at a group of foes but your launcher just clicks, empty. The Eagle's cries shake the facility. You can feel the structure disintegrating over all levels of of time and space. Only a few more seconds.

There's a horrendous tearing sound and a huge section of wall falls into nothingness, a squad of TIME POLICE falling into the void. You feel the chronosphere pressing in all around. You need to get out before...

There's a sickening crunch. The entire HQ winks out of existence and never was.

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Your eyes open. Snow clings to the visor of your helmet. You sit up slowly, every inch of your body aches. For the first time, you feel old. The world around you is glittering and white. A frozen world. A figure, swathed in black cloth stands before you. You cannot see his face but it's inclined in your direction. "I'm dead..." you grimace. "I didn't get out in time." The figure cocks its head. "At least I took those time regulating bastards with me." You climb to your feet. "So how's this going to work? I thought death would be a bit more...er metaphysical" the dark figure just turns and walks away. "HEY! HEY Where are you going?" You trudge afterhim through the storm but he seems to get further and further away, despite the assistance of your powered exo-suit. You stumble into a snow drift and see the figure, static on a hill of frozen ice. "Time is free" It hisses, almost a laugh. It turns and disapears in swirling gust of glittering snow. Slowly, the storm stops, and the sun shines through the clouds. Though its rays pierce the visor of your helmet you can't help but to feel a sense of peace. Your eyes flutter and fall closed.

>Achievement Unlocked: I'm Not Dead Yet
>Fate grows suspicious. Death occurs on rolls of 1-6.
>Character Cycle Activated...
>Seeking new entity...Please Wait...

(Sorry for being slow. It's the weekend so I'm lazy. I think I'm gonna put off introducing the new character for a bit. I have to re-think how this is organized because I expected you guys to die at least once by now. Damn you and your good rolling. I'll probably tweak the mechanics a bit for the next run.)

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>>1204739
>Character Loaded
>a d10 will be rolled each post. The suggestion who's No.'s last digit matches the die is accepted


You are a small adorable kitten. You have been left in a box on the side of the road. The box has something written on the side in black marker but that has been scribbled out and replaced with the words "FREE CATS".

Once you sat in this box with several of your brothers and sisters but you are the last one left. It has been several hours since anyone passed by. The box was fun at first, but it's a bit uncomfortable now. The sun is setting and night approaches.

As the light begins to fade you hear faint barks from the treeline. Some horrible monsters of the forest.

What do you do?

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>1209039

Rolled 3, 2 = 5 (2d6)

>>1209039

Run away, into the house with an open window.
By doing that, spill some strange liquid over ourself.
Depending on the result, we either turn into a catgirl or we die.
Finger Crossed!
1-6 is a bit harsh. It has to be a 7+ right now. I mean, what are the fucking odds of that happening?

Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d6)

>>1209211

Flip the box over and wait under it.

Rolled 6, 4 = 10 (2d6)

>>1209039

garner favor with the fates.

Rolled 1, 1 = 2 (2d6)

>>1209039
It's time. Transform into an ANTI-MONSTER KITTEN and engage in GORILLA WARFARE.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1209039
Get the hell out of here, we can't just wait here all night. Those things are scary.

Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d6)

>>1209039
The god of kittens thirsts for blood. We, as his dutiful servant, shall provide some.
By that i mean we will go kill someone.

>>1209039
Channel the spirit of Napoleon and begin your conquest of the world.

>>1209039
GIANTS
GIANTS
GIANTS
BECOME UNSTOPPABLE

>>1209039
Ok, I thought I would have more time to update this, but I've pesky things like classes and grades to worry about.

I shall return though and improve a few things.
It might take some time though.

>>1215971
Take your time OP, we love you