Well met and greetings my fellow Gentlemen. Are you rested well? Refreshed? Sitting comfortably?

Now first things first gentlemen, I would like to apologize for not being regular in my devotions in writing up the story of my somewhat entertaining Dark Heresy game. I have been busy, and certainly friends I could easily list the things that have distracted me but I know it would be unfair to say that my life is in any way more complicated or that I in any way am more obligated to do this or that. It is a shame that life is so very complex when it should be more simple and about the finer things. But I digress, I did not come here today to bother you with the things I have been up to, which is relatively little between the hassles of life and entertainment. My friend's blog has been distracting enough, what with his new project of actually scanning his first grade yearbook complete with horrific graffiti. No, friends, I have come today to share with you the continued adventures of Mr. Silon and company.

Now, The DM had changed slightly. He was growing bored with our game and I could tell he didn't really have much of an agenda other than "Let's get this over with" or "I can't do anything with these people." More and more I found him going through the motions of DMing rather than spending his time in devotion to writing entertaining plot. We had enemies,we bested them, and this was quickly becoming sub-par kick in the door style gaming. I knew he had other projects he wanted to do and soon enough he began to do things in order to 'improve' the flow of the game. By improve I mean absolutely ruin in every meaning of the word. I said some pleasant things about this DM I believe, in the past at least, and I can say that he was up until this point a gentlemen, a scholar and a fine fellow to lose an afternoon to. However, he soon began to feel, in that hated word, "Meh" about the whole arrangement.

Now, I am not saying that a little spice can make a dish all the better. No, friends, I mean to say that a little spice is perfect. Then again, too much salt and you have ruined things completely. There was a problem with our game, and the DM considered that our solution should likely involve bringing in outside players. Now, this is not to say that I am opposed to outside players joining our little group but I thought that we had a great thing going with our cadre. There was Mordeci, former cop turned crime lord (so far at least), there was Devi, streetwise thief turned axe-wielding madame of the house and there was Silon, the tech-priest turned zoot-suit wearing, smack-talking Bookie. We had grown close as players and we could fathom how our characters would interact in any situation, save for the addition of new players. We got two, one of which soon died (I will explain, read on if you will) and the other became the bane of our party. The Nemesis. The Horror.

Or whore, perhaps might have been a more applicable term.

I am not a man to label a woman whom is emancipated as she claimed to be a whore, but the first new addition to our party was a short skirt away from working skid row as a part time job. The woman was a bubbly personality, one of those sorts with a petit frame, glasses, and a constant giggle at everything. She was the sort to tell everyone that she was a Type-A personality (Insecure Bitch more or less) and that other people didn't react well to her drive to succeed. She was a gun-line player in Fantasy and ran a nasty Tyranid swarm that almost won every tournament, never quite getting first prize but always placing. She was a strange person, her face with those widely spaced and ever-too-large eyes, almost like a Bratz doll. I figured that if I had stood still directly between her eyes I might disappear from her vision entirely.

Now, there's a saying where I come from that has been butchered to death but I will try to do it justice. You see, if someone calls you a horse once you call them a jerk. Someone calls you a horse twice you punch them in the face but the third time someone calls you a horse, you best soon acquaint yourself with the saddle market. In this case, I had heard nothing pleasant about the woman. A sore loser, someone who measured before shooting, trying to pass it off as this or that. In tabletop terms I had heard even worse, characters with twenty or thirty page backgrounds entirely devoted to their cult of personality, disabilities, rape fantasies and far worse. I had heard stories of indigo hair and violet eyes shimmering with 'magick'. Yes, magic with a k. That sort.

The other player was a fifteen year old young man with perhaps the tools deep down to become a dorkling in time, maybe down the road run for a seat on the dork council. At this moment however he was a few herps short of a derp and completely missing the point of how a game works. See, a DM had mentored him in the 'good stuff', the old 2.0 and 3.0, 3.5 to an extent. The boy had been raised by a permanent man-child older brother who was a walking encyclopedia of WOTC products, D20 and everything else. The problem is that this child had been raised as a ROLL player and not a role player, and as such he found ways to 'gimp' the system, any system, in short order.

Why the DM had invited these two, well, I'll get to that. The Lady, was the DMs "main squeeze" per se, and as such will be now referred to as "That girl", the young dorkling gone astray was recently tossed out of a Pathfinder game for Minmaxing and being a "complete Tool". We shall call him beyond this point as "Roll-player". We had politely voiced a few concerns as how to get the players involved in our story having come thus far in our adventures. The Dm informed us that he "had that covered." As such we began our next session with the following bombshell.

"The door is blown off the hinges and in walks a member of the Adeptus Sororitas, clad in heavy armor but not quite power armor, she carries a bolter and has long indigo hair, violet eyes and introduces herself as 'Sister Jules' " She waves the Rosette of our Inquisitor about and bellows for us to attend her." Under the impression that we were supposed to be involved in a stealthy operation, hiding under the cover of another, semi-stealthy criminal operation, I believed this to be a violation of our standing orders. I asked the DM about this and he said "you'll see."

FUCK YEAH! DAVE STORY THREAD!

I apologize for interrupting. Please, do continue.

Now, I'm not trying to be melodramatic here but the CIA has saying, "You shall see the truth, and the truth shall set you free." In my experience, it's more often than not the case of "You shall see the truth, and it will piss you off."

This was most CERTAINLY one of those cases.


Accompanying the sister was a psyker wielding a force-sword. He had willpower stats and nothing else. He said that his build was a 'generalist build with optimal focus in necessary combat support skills". He didn't even have a name written for the guy so he named him on the spot after himself, "Milo the Psyker." Now, Sister Jules, played by she-who-could-suck-the-sorrow-off-a-recent-widow, began to bully us around. Or rather she attempted to bully Mordeci, playing up her character's "total scare factor" and screaming the name of the Inquisition. Our cover was effectively blown, so Mordeci acknowledged the change of leadership with a question as to what was going on. Devi had cleanly snuck up on the psyker, said 'boo' and then listened. Silon was busy in the "laboratory" in the basement, hard at work on Turbo space meth 2.0

The sister then rolled, actually rolled intimidation to intimidate the party members to get them to just follow her blindly. Mordeci and Devi both passed. The player didn't know how to respond to this and burned a fate point to succeed. We just let her have it and Mordeci/Devi followed blindly. There was then the question as to the whereabouts of Mr. Silon. His name was called, and he floated up the dumbwaiter shaft (thanks to a recent purchase of Maglev something or other) saying "You rang?" I thought this was terrifically funny. So did everyone else except for the DM's girlfriend, "that girl" was less than pleased being mocked. So she tried to intimidate Silon and failed. Before she could burn another fate point the DM moved us along.

Here was the deal: The mission had changed, forget drug running, the Thule Syndicate and everything else. There was a new mission that required our presence and we had to lift into orbit IMMEDIATELY to avert global catastrophe if not system/sub-sec difficulties. There was a mutiny in the Navy lead by some sort of Rear-Admiral that had apparently succombed to Chaos thanks to a burp in the Geller field mid transit. His battleship was wreaking havoc across the system and he was converting many to his flock. This marauder had to be stopped, so on soforth.

So, the Inquisitor gave us a Destroyer outfitted by the Inquisition to be a fast-responding strike vessel in order to chase the guy down. I tried to tell the DM (as I have played in the past battlefleet gothic) that a Cobra Class destroyer is not going to take on an Emperor Class battleship and come out the least bit okay. He said that we were going to use special weapons against it and I shrugged, this was DM caveat and apparently the Lady-friend of his wanted to play mobile strike-force instead of urban grit/grimdark.

This sister was already on my nerves because of her flagrant attempts to threaten the party, and in character Silon didn't know what to make of the situation as he was hard at work on Turbo Meth 2.0 and didn't care to abandon research without a damned fine reason. Thanks to an advance in medicae since the last game, Silon actually knew what the Drug did and as such fatalities were down by almost five percent. Almost. We followed the Sister and were whisked to a spire launch platform and then boosted into orbit where our ship waited. Before we departed though we would have to take a look at a lead from a weapons-dealer that was apparently selling to both sides of this Mutiny. We were walking around the bad part of the station, where endless rows of salesmen's stalls cluttered everything. In a rusty docking bay there was an arms bizzar and I was informed that this was this largest gathering of criminals any of us had ever seen. Somewhere in here was our man to question.

A smart man would probably ask if anyone could make us an introduction to such an individual hidden as this man was, however, Silon had the street smarts of a trashcan lid and followed the group quietly, having been disrobed of his 'stupid, faggy zoot suit' by the Sister, her words not mine. He did, however, keep the damned hat as it was central to his disguise. Also, he had taken a liking to it and could not explain why.

Mordeci began browsing guns, trying to eavesdrop as he did so, handling firearms with the care only a practiced killer can. Devi spent her time trying to make small talk and dig up what news there was of this mutiny (no NPCs had any dialogue about it, all just said "oh, is that a sister with you, she looks hella dangerous!" ). The psyker got tired of things and kept 'doing my invocations' because he assumed that 'being ready for anything' was no different from walking around with one hand in your spell components pouch.

The DM got tired of ROLL player and decided that if he was going to constantly channel the fel powers he was going to have to roll to pass a minimum psyk test. This was done in order to let the kid know the game had some lethality to it. What happened next was pure comedy gold.

The Kid bombed his test, rolled on the minor Warp boo boo table only to roll very poorly and then be subject to Perils of the Warp. The kid didn't want to waste his points on a re-roll because he "might need them later." I attempted in my own experience to tell the kid to burn a fate point and just have a nasty little side-accident rather than risk immediate death but the Kid said that probability was on his side.

Probability was not. The kid disappeared, sucked into the warp and was never to be seen again. The kid, upset at dice having failed him, sulked in the corner with the handbook for the rest of the session. The DM seemed pleased and I laughed, but the Sister was still in our game and I was not pleased in the slightest at the idea of her continuing to play with us.

The sister successfully intimidated a half-dozen people into letting us know where 'our man was' who was conveniently in a hanger all to his own. The sister said she "had this covered" and that we were to wait outside. Cue to one of the most awkward one-on-one-while-whole-room-watches RP scenes where she describes herself as a frightening woman of flowing ankle-length hair who scares the piss (at the expense of fate points) out of the man to find out what we needed to know: There is a gathering point for the mutineers on this backward feudal world. It was then that the shooting started.

See, Sister talks-poorly had piss poor luck when it came to shooting rolls and the gun-dealer's goons apparently wanted a slice of her for some reason I cannot fathom, so we're all in this shootout. Well, all of us except Silon, who knows full well the penalty for being on the other side of a gun. Silon hacked the controls to the Hangar with a brilliant tech-use test (several several several successes) and warned the party to 'get out'.

As the party stood clear, Silon had the blast doors slam shut and then opened the outer doors to hard vacuum. I was informed at this point I got 5 insanity points for having killed all of those people without hesitation.

.......

That was my response.

In a world where all decisions are binary, and that all things are either black or . . a slightly darker shade of black, there is no such thing as an innocent bystander in an underground Arms Bazaar. Having cleansed the station of the filth and probably significantly fucked the 'bad guys' over in some measurable way, I decided to go along with the plot and behave.

The sister, in close contact at all times with the Inquisitor (Via something like a DM-to-player Codec) the puppet Jules took us through the motions of her plan: Go to planet, find mutineers, kill them. I had considered maybe investigating the mutiny and finding the underlying reasons, what where how when and so on. This was silly, go, kill, no questions.

So we went. We were introduced to the ship, an Inquisitorial retrofitted Cobra Class destroyer. The ship had many technological marvels aboard, and when Jules read off the list Silon grew increasingly enthused about the mission at hand. When teleportarium was mentioned, there was a Silon-shaped smoke cloud as he ran, cartoonishly fast, to investigate. That was my wording at least. The DM informs me that Silon would stay through the ENTIRE briefing.

This was a briefing now? Well, pardon me.

It was there, with us being briefed on how important the mission was and how the chosen-blessed-sister-Jules would lead us to victory, that we ended that session with the description that we began our warp translation and would soon be at a planet largely forgotten by Imperial records. A planet of heresy, of medieval lords, castles, flying things that spit fire and swords . . and so on. I really didn't listen to the spiel as the entire game had flipped and I had come to the realization that It may not go on for much longer. See, DMs in this state often more or less tear the campaign apart in spectacular fashion in attempt to move things along, then sulk for weeks/months/years until they run again. That being said, I was going to make Silon live his short life on paper as best he could, by doing what he enjoyed, which would most certainly involve a few experiments with the Teleportarium in the near future.

Next session: How I was accused of "being an asshole".

Until next time, stay safe, stay well, stay hydrated and remember to never suffer a bad DM.
-Dave-

>>15610701
i wish i had players like you in the groups i've played in

And the story of my favorite Tech Priest ever, who inspired me to make a priest of the Machine Cult for my next game, begins a slide down towards what I can only assume will be a disappointing end.

It's a shame when DMs do things like this. However, I'll keep my eye out for part 7, there's still hope!

I've been going through your archived threads, and they are my absolute favourite thing.

Just throwing that out there.

>>15612102
I've just done the same thing.


Thank you Peg-Leg Dave, for shining a bit of humor and light in my life. Shit is desperate at the moment, and that made me laugh a lot.

I make my offerings of Copenhagen Snuff, good stogies, and grunt candy (read: 800mg ibuprofen horse pills) to the Omnissiah and Peg-Leg Dave for continued awesome.

>>15614765
Snuff I am not a fan of, tobacco products are more my friend Teddy's realm. I say this though, tonight or very early morning I shall return to continue the story. That I promise. Don't lose sleep though, everyone needs their six to seven.