>>4315742
(cont.)

By your own discretion you refused to follow the same heavy handed cover-up tactics the military used. You managed to move one scientist, Dr. Isaac Kleiner, to the safety of the Black Mesa infirmary. Then you found the daughter of Eli Vance, and extracted the remaining members of the family. Along the way, you’ve brought two staff members with you, one a neurologist from the infirmary, and another, a microbiologist who was intent on cowering in place. You’ve brought them both back to the infirmary for a moment.

Following an objective to get readings of the anomalous materials laboratory, you’ve returned to the infirmary. Here, you’ve talked Dr. Wallace Breen into revealing his connections to a mysterious figure that seems to have his fingers in every pie at Black Mesa. You’ve also developed a plan to extract the infirmary team, through the same methods Dr. Rosenberg and a few allies were rumoured to use.

Then, of course, there’s that damn migraine. You’re not sure what it is, where it came from, or what it’s doing, but somehow you’ve found a little whole in it, and on the other side lurks the vast mental network the invaders use to organize themselves.

Previous Threads:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Black%20Mesa%20Black%20Ops%20Quest

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>>4315743
>>4313426
>>4313433
>>4313438
>>4315142
>>4315253

Seeing the vortigaunt’s mural of a meeting between some sort of alien creature, and a relatively small, dignified little man on the center stage, you noticed a strange, familiar little figure whose eyes were drawn red, rather than the usual yellow color that the rest of the drawing was colored with.

However, you swear there's another color in that barely noticeable shape, but the longer you look at it, the less it seems to make sense.Your head kicks back at every attempt to understand it, the migraine pulsing and blurring your vision the closer you look.

Not wanting to put yourself through unnecessary pain, you turn around to try communicating with the alien. However you quickly notice that the vortigaunt’s attention has moved elsewhere. The creature's large, main eye tracks insects as they move through his place of residence. Stalking the pests, it draws green energy, far dimmer than what the beings use for attacking people, and releases it, sending the insects who aren’t quickly fried scattering away.

It bends down to finish its caretaking, picking up the dead insects and gathering it in its hand, likely to dispose of them somehow. While you don’t want to be rude, although that assumes these creatures have concepts of manners, you need to gather the creature's attention.

As your vortal ally turns around, you reach out a finger, quickly tapping the creature on the face to gather its attention. While the tap is light, the adept and quiet movements that you’re used to performing on a daily basis take the alien by surprise. It’s eye quickly opens to their fullest extent, and it draws back in surprise and confusion. It immediately reminds you of one of your foster parents pets. You giggle at the sight, remembering how you used to tap the dog’s nose as a child, and it would give you this exaggerated look of confusion despite its tail wagging endlessly. You can’t help but feel like these aliens are slightly cute when they aren’t shooting bolts of lightning at you.

Still, you got his attention for a reason, so you put your laughter aside, and point to the drawing. The vortigaunt seems to quickly compose himself, putting on another reserved stance, and even doing what you can swear is a smile, seeing you take in his work.
(cont.)

https://youtu.be/blFOsaaRczI
>>4315744
(cont.)
Still, you got his attention for a reason, so you put your laughter aside, and point to the drawing. The vortigaunt seems to quickly compose himself, putting on another reserved stance, and even doing what you can swear is a smile, seeing you take in his work.

Glad that you’ve got the creature's attention and interest, you begin tapping the side of your head. With your luck, there’s a distinct probability that this is some sort of alien insult, that will require you both to duel for honor. Watching to see the creatures eyes acknowledge your movements, you move your hand to the drawings and scratchings covering the wall. You point to the barely visible outline of a figure with dark, muted red eyes.

These creatures seem to learn from each other, and you’re decently sure that one of them rooted through your head earlier, probably seeing classified secrets that you would be shot for leaking. It also means that they might have an idea of the english language. Although, you don’t usually think about talking. Would a creature be able to learn something you just do naturally by reading your mind?

“My head hurts.” You say, loudly and clearly, deciding to test the possibility. You keep your worlds simple, allowing the creature plenty of time to process a new language. “When I look at your picture, my head hurts, so I can’t understand it.” You gesture to the side of your head where the migraine is currently thrashing.

The creature nods, then starts approaching, its clawed hands out. At first, you expect them to start glowing with the green energy they seem to draw from the world, but instead, it starts reaching for your pockets with its taloned hands.

>What the hell? You’re not gonna get pickpocketed by an alien! Grab its arms and pull them away from it.
>Just signal the creature the best you can to stop. There’s important spy equipment in your pockets, and weapons in your holsters. All things you don’t want an alien tampering with.
>Stop the creature, but pull out some of the things it might be interested in. Show it your possessions on your terms.
>Let it do what it needs to do, just stand still and allow the alien to rummage through your stuff. It obviously has some sort of plan, and given that they can shoot lightning, you don’t think they need your guns. ‘
>Write in a response.

>>4315747
>Write in a response.
Boop
Hold up a hand and reach for the radio

>>4315747
>Let it do what it needs to do, just stand still and allow the alien to rummage through your stuff. It obviously has some sort of plan, and given that they can shoot lightning, you don’t think they need your guns. ‘
What’s in the box, OP?

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4315778
>>4315857
Tiebreaker roll.

>>4315778
>>4315857
>>4315937
With one of your hands, you make a quick, calm motion to stop, and the vortigaunt respectfully stops, taking a step back. Thinking about what the creature might want, you remember how the beings manipulated your radio, notably without exactly asking for permission. While the last time they tampered with the device, you found it inoperable, it worked out to have saved your life. Whatever the vortigaunt does to the radio, it will probably be within your best interests.

You reach into your pockets, finding your advanced encrypted radio. Knowing the creature likely already knows your encryption keys, you don’t bother scrambling the settings before you hold it out.

The vortigaunt inspects it in your hands for a moment, then says something in its low, gravelly voice with an alien tongue. It sounds at least slightly unimpressed, but the creature knows that he can illustrate something with it, judging by the intent in its movements.

Without any pigment left, or perhaps to illustrate the imperceptibility of the subject, the alien makes tiny little claw marks into the existing paint in the wall, coming away from the red-eyed figures head. Each one is a small, individual wave pattern that occasionally scatters. While the alien clearly shows the intent that they travel outwards, with no direction, he places particular importance on one direction, first allowing the scatter pattern of waves to form into a teardrop shape, then a long line that eventually dips low, near the floor. When the waves grow close to the tile, the alien mutters something in his tongue, and waves his hand for you to come closer.

Rather confused at the moment, you slowly walk towards the creature. When he begins muttering again, he’s now pointing to the radio in your hands. You slowly hand off the device, unsure of what he intends to do with it.

You watch carefully as all he does is place it on the ground. Now a prop added to the alien mural, a radio sits, receiving something from you, all well below the rest of this scene.

As you stare at it, unsure of what the radio is meant to represent, you notice that the migraine seems to like you focusing on the radio. It wants you to think about the radio, and not the figure. When you stare back at the figure, that strange extra color remains. Impossibly blurry in your head, even as you look right at it, there’s something there, causing that color, that you’re missing.
(cont.)

>>4315994
(cont.)
>Look at the radio more, try and figure out what it's meant to represent. Of course, that seems to be what the migraine wants. (3d6+3, pass on a 17, you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Go back to the figure, focus on it, push past it, and try to figure out what the migraine isn’t telling you. (3d6+3, pass on an 18. This threshold drops all the way to an 8 if you can guess right.)
>The vortigaunt didn’t look totally impressed with the prop. (Write in something else you wanna give it.)
>The vortigaunt didn’t look totally impressed with the prop. Let it rummage through your bag for what it wants.
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Kleiner.
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Guttman.
>Write in.

>>4315997
>Go back to the figure, focus on it, push past it, and try to figure out what the migraine isn’t telling you. (3d6+3, pass on an 18. This threshold drops all the way to an 8 if you can guess right.)
Go balls or go home

>>4315631
It's a replay for the most part, with the exception of opfor and blue shift which I didn't play before.
Cremators are cool, sad they got cut. I love me some flamethrowers.

>>4315997
>The vortigaunt didn’t look totally impressed with the prop. Let it rummage through your bag for what it wants.
Vortipuppets.

>>4315997
>The vortigaunt didn’t look totally impressed with the prop. Let it rummage through your bag for what it wants.

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>>4315994
Might need an MS paint figure cuz I don't fully get the figure.

>>4315997
>>The vortigaunt didn’t look totally impressed with the prop. Let it rummage through your bag for what it wants.

>>4316060
Nice, a golden ghostly Mr. Hanky about to get busted by us.

>>4316067
Well the figure implies Breen or Gman
The eyes would imply gman by virtue of vort not having access to the color blue.

The radio is not necessarily the target of the situation... but if we lay down in place of the radio we could get confirmation from the vortigaunt if he's implying us receiving waves from the man.

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>>4316060
Thank's man!
>>4316006
>>4316049
>>4316058
>>4316062
>>4316067
It's clear that the alien isn't intent on pulling the pin from one of your grenades and running, not that it would have far to run. These creatures seem to be on your side, and being that he probably already knows how most of it works, you don’t see danger in allowing the creature access to your equipment to act as simple props on a mural.

You pull your bag of spy gear over your shoulder, slowly lowering it to the ground. Like a travelling merchant getting ready to show her wares, you sit behind it as you unzip it.

The alien smiles, muttering once again in his alien voice , before enthusiastically waddling over to you. The creature crouches low before you, curling his already hunch-back body further as he reaches in, rummaging through the best spy gear one could conceal, alongside weapons and equipment gathered from your supply drop.

Anything the creature doesn’t take out, he pushes to the side, sifting past your laptop and any gun small enough to be concealed, then lands on your goggles, which he simply pulls out, and places onto the floor next to the bag. The vortigaunt isn’t satisfied with just that however, suddenly diving his dirty, taloned hands into the bag, feeling around until suddenly his deep voice sounds satisfied, matching an expression. You don’t see what exactly he grabs, but whatever it is, it’s obviously small enough to be easily concealable in a palm.

Before he gets to work applying whatever his new prop is, you watch his expression change as another idea comes into the creature's head, or perhaps even another one of his brothers minds, relaying to him.

The vortigaunt tracks down the insects he killed earlier. Even from here you can see they are unlike anything from earth. The fried xenian creatures were killed by the vortigaunt only minutes ago, for what you had guessed was hygiene.
(cont.)

>>4316166
(cont.)
In his free hand, he collects up the small bodies, and crushes the creatures with his talons. There’s a small but distinct crushing sound as the exo-skeletons collapse in on themselves, pushing the bug’s innards out, and on to the hand. When the vortigaunt uncurls his fist, you can see dollops of what he must consider paint, or perhaps is simply the only available resource resembling paint.

He carefully approaches his mural, and tracks a line, unlike the barely visible outline of the red-eyed figure, you see it trace from the red-eyed figure to the centerpiece of the mural, the man talking with the floating, rotund shape. Tracing it with your eyes, you come to the assumption that the line will match up with the fore-head of the dignified man talking to the large alien among the ruins. Instead, as though the perfectly straight line were caught out of the air, it simply stops dead in its tracks.
Satisfied with the image, the vortigaunt places the last piece, the object he kept in his hand. Without any adhesive to hold the prop to his mural, the vortigaunt simply holds it there. You immediately see why you couldn’t tell what the object was. In-between the alien’s talons is one of your CIA dongles, resting on the side of the head of the red-eyed figure’s barely visible head, right at the center of an unexplainable color. It’s hard to concentrate on the sight, everytime you look too long, a pulse from the migraine blurs your vision and jossles your focus.

>Look at the radio more, try and figure out what it's meant to represent. Of course, that seems to be what the migraine wants. (3d6+3, pass on a 17, you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Time to figure out what the migraine isn’t letting you figure out. What does the red eyed figure mean, and what does it have to do with the CIA dongle? (3d6+3, pass on an 16,you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Investigate the “centerpiece” of the mural, the apparent discussion between the human and inhuman figure. (3d6+3, pass on an 12,you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Investigate your goggles, why did the vortigaunt pull these out?
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Kleiner.
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Guttman.
>Write in a response.

>>4316167
>Investigate your goggles, why did the vortigaunt pull these out?
Time for my guess:
The red-eyed figure is us. We're in the middle of the unexplainable color, no doubt thanks to our relatively recent awakening to conciousness-beyond-body. The device implanted in us (or as we can surmise from the visions we've seen and gman's words, a future version of us) is what enables, directs, and ultimately limits this psychic activity.
I wonder...maybe we can interfere with the migraine's own interference the next time we glimpse into the future. Find some manner of shutting off the control device...Perhaps
by applying some of the vortal energy to it? That did disable a radio earlier.

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The thread is on page 2 already, and that just makes me depressed.
>>4316194
As you consider an explanation of what the hell the vortigaunt is trying to show you, you pick up your goggles. With little of the fanfare, nor any meaningful usage in the vortigaunts tribalistic painting, he pulled them out of your bag, despite ignoring any other unused items.

Your first thought is the red eyes, watching the optics deep, muted red lights flicker on as you power them up. Like two eyes, the ends of your goggles have a red hue, for some reason or another, especially as the optical systems kick in, when that red color begins to dimly glow.

The figure you see in the vortigaunts mural does have a pair of red eyes. The image, while crudely made, is resourceful in every pigment the creature had access to in his solitude. While the eyes may only be two dots, you do notice subtlety among them. They’re closer together than natural human eyes, much like the optical apertures on your equipment, and deliberately drawn small, likely using the very tip of the alien’s talon.

Still, there’s always the possibility of coincidence, or confusion from the creatures “artistic style.” You want to confirm your hypothesis, and the best way to do that is to get it straight from the author. Pointing to the eyes on the picture, you hold your goggles saying “Are these eyes-” You tap on the picture, then you shake the optics, “-goggles?”

The creature curiously studies every motion for a moment, then releases an affirmative “Ahhh…” as it shakes its head. Then, like it’s holding the boxy optics himself, it mimes the motions of someone putting on the optics.

After watching the motion, you’re decently sure the creature wants you to wear your optics. Seeing no harm in this action, and wanting to know more about it, you put the goggles on.

Your optical gear is designed to aid in shooting any weapon, and in order to do this, it comes with a few interchangeable systems. As you boot the goggles up, you realize they were left on the passive rangefinder setting. This system, which as its label states finds the range of a distant object, is used for long range shooting, without emitting any lasers that could be tracked by an observant foe.

As you take note of this fact that, at first glance likely seems irrelevant, the vortigaunt taps on the picture. His sharp talon clacks repeatedly against the most recent line, the one coming from, what is either you or some other assassin, towards the man in the centerpiece, before abruptly stopping. If your goggles mode was deliberately set by the vortigaunt, then perhaps his implication is that you, or whoever the assassin in the edge of the mural is, is taking a shot from long range, thus explaining the recent addition of a long line.
(cont.)

>>4316446
(cont.)
>Look at the radio more, try and figure out what it's meant to represent. Of course, that seems to be what the migraine wants. (3d6+3, pass on a 16, you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Time to figure out what the migraine isn’t letting you figure out. What does the red eyed figure mean, and what does it have to do with the CIA dongle? (3d6+3, pass on an 16,you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Investigate the “centerpiece” of the mural, the apparent discussion between the human and inhuman figure. (3d6+3, pass on an 12,you don’t have to roll if you can figure it out.)
>Look closely at the giant, grub shaped figure floating above the man. What is that thing, do you recognize it, perhaps an alien?
>Look closely at the man below the larger figure. Do you recognize any subtleties with the man that might hint at an identity?
>You’re tired of playing guessing games, lay down somewhere comfortable and try to communicate more directly with the vortigaunt.
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Kleiner.
>You could use some help. Get Dr. Guttman.
>Maybe you should try leaving this alone for now.
>Write in a response.

>>4316448
"...and of course,, the surVIval of your specIes..."The mysterious man continues. Just as the woman's gun spits, you are transported elsewhere. Ruins, dust, smoke, even more bodies, burnt out cars with families still inside, tanks among them. In the center of it all, the same man who you thought had just been shot is now talking to something. A worm like creature floats in the air, speaking with the disheveled human.
It's clear that the drawn scene is the one Gman gave us a glimpse of, Breen negotiating with the grub for the sake of humanity's survival.
Which means...the vortigaunt is perhaps implying that we either need to assassinate Breen in this moment, will be ordered to do so, or need to prevent an assassin from doing so. One of the three options. We should ask the vort if it's any of those three - a nod or a shake will confirm if it's right or not.
Either way, after that:
>You’re tired of playing guessing games, lay down somewhere comfortable and try to communicate more directly with the vortigaunt.

>>4316471
“This is…” You pause for a moment, pulling the goggles up to your forehead as you look over the wall painting. “This is Dr. Breen, isn’t it?” You say, hoping the creature understands. When he doesn’t respond, you add, “Dr. Breen, Administrator.” As you tap continuously on the wall.

The creature nods its head yes.

“And this is an assassin.” You ask, once again adding “Assassin? Spy?” as you tap on the mural, then yourself, specifically focusing on the things that would notify you as a spy, such as your equipment, and stealth suit.

The creature nods its head once again, muttering something in its alien language. Trying to intake new knowledge and language as best it can, it attempts to manipulate its alien lips into parroting the word it intends, saying in it’s low, gravelly voice, “Yessss.”

When you hear the alien spit out its first english words, you’re slightly worried. Struggling to repeat human mouth motions on a fundamentally different face, the simple word is spoken like nothing you’ve ever heard before. It takes a few seconds to realize the alien just gave you an unpracticed “Yes.” Realizing what he said, you place it to the side for now, hoping to further assess the situation.

You nod in understanding, then ask, “Will I be ordered to kill him? Is that me killing him?” Still keeping it slow and deliberate enough for the learning creature to understand.

“Yessss.” The vortigaunt repeats in response, being it’s only word within its vocabulary so far.

“Should I kill him?” You ask once again, short, simple questions easy for the creature to understand in your language.

The vortigaunt doesn’t respond, simply staring at you, as though it can’t answer that question. Perhaps, you think, it just didn’t answer the question..

You rephrase your question. “Does Dr. Breen need to die?” A creature able to learn instantly from every other member of its species should surely be able to understand context clues, right?

“Yessss.” Is all the creature says.

“Understood.” Is all you say, conflicted. The suited man “employed” you to protect Dr. Breen. You don’t understand the full intentions of either the vortiguants, or the suited man.

Still, assuming you’re interpreting things right, you’re going to need to understand the situation fully before making decisions like that. You don’t think there’s anything more to be learned from this mural, and while it’s been consistently painful, the migraine, or at least what’s beyond it, has gotten you the most information so far. Allowing the mural to wait, you find a spot you can lay down, resting your head on a roll of medical gauze like a makeshift pillow, and try to find the vortigaunt beyond the migraine.
(cont.)

>>4316551
(cont.)
>Try and think about the voice you heard, the first time you ever communicated with a vortigaunt. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 14)
>Try and think about the picture you saw, the one your handler is withholding from you, that you saw right before the incident. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 13)
>Try to think about what Dr. Vance said, how everything will be popping into the anomalous materials labs, what might be coming into there? (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 11)
>Think about the meeting you saw both in the mural, and in the meeting with your mutual friend. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 16)
>Write in something else to focus on.

>>4316553
>Focus the migraine itself. It's high time you learned more about it...and how to deal with it.
I'm gonna psychically kick this thing's ass for consistently being a little BITCH.

>>4316553
>Try to think about what Dr. Vance said, how everything will be popping into the anomalous materials labs, what might be coming into there? (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 11)
I would do a write-in about focusing on who exactly is shooting at Breen in the painting, but that’s probably not as useful on account of being in the far future.
I wonder why the vorts want Breen dead, though. He actually saved Earth by bargaining with the Combine, so if we prevent him from doing that then someone else will have to do it. Maybe the implication is that we kill Breen so that WE become Earth’s administrator in his place? It would certainly make the rebels’ lives easier to have a mole on the inside in such a high position.

>>4316568
This

>>4316591
gonna be a hell of a paradox

>>4316684
I'm worried about the consequences of doing so. Here's hoping that the Vorts can provide solid proof of what would happen if we did...because otherwise, I'm inclined not to risk the entirety of the human race on a gamble like killing Breen.
And in canon, vortigaunts have become somewhat extreme in their viewpoints by the time of HL2 - they're so fed up with slavery that they'd rather die off than endure one more moment of servitude. At least, if one of the dialogue lines is anything to go by.

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>>4316568
>>4316591
>>4316641
>>4316684
>>4316687
Hoping the vortigaunt picks up, to assist, you start to push against the pain of the migraine, visualising it, watching its response, and stalking it. Over the past few days you've learned a lot about the strange phenomenon, and you've seen how it acts. When you go against it, it roars a computerized screech, then pulls its fortifications inwards, spiking into your brainstem and flooding it with pain.

The vortigaunts clearly know a lot, and with their help, you could probably garner even more information on your condition.

Of course, it's probably going to be rather painful, considering just how much the migraine doesn't likes keeping its secrets.

Four players roll a 1d6. The top three rolls will be added into a 3d6+3. If the total is a 14+, you pass.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4317037

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4317037
No whammies!

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Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>4317037
Honk honk

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4317037
Fight me bitch

>>4317040
>>4317066
>>4317190
14+3

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>>4317040
>>4317066
>>4317188
Heh

>>4317040
>>4317066
>>4317188
>>4317190
>>4317215
>>4317218
Honing your thoughts towards the migraine quickly begins to draw a reaction out of the incessant thing. Trying to avoid another seizure, you maneuver around it’s mental patrols, slowly and carefully creeping towards it. The electronic shrieking sound has been ingrained into your head with an association of pain, and everytime you think you’re about to hear it, you flinch, even in the real world. The migraine thinks it has you, or at least is on track to making you more obedient. However, you’re trained to put up with torture, and pain. Everytime it suspects you, and tries to bark you back down, you convince it otherwise, putting the headache in a position of false superiority as you continuously maneuver towards the vortigaunts presence.

It’s a long, arduous, and still slightly painful process to avoid the migraine without setting off its traumatic responses. Thankfully however, you’re slowly approaching the vortigaunts taloned hand, hoping for it to pull you out.

Instead, it points, in a direction you never realized existed. You try to follow its hand, but you don’t understand yet how to travel that way.

Seeing this, the taloned hand takes you, picks you up, and pulls you into the pinhole, right at the edge of the migraine. The pinhole is coterminus with you, both an interloper, and unintended assistant to the migraine.

The vortessence pushes you far forward, travelling along the same mind in a direction you shouldn’t be able to, until your inertia runs out. Drag pulls you back down, into the keyhole, and the rest of the migraine.

Your alarm blairs, each sound drilling into your ears as you lay on the thin, dirty old mattress awarded to you for service under the universal union. A dim light of early morning is just poking through your one window, through the crack of which you can hear the distant sound of a helicopter.

One of the implants slams you with pain, rippling across the side of your head for every moment you spend with your eyes shut. Your benefactors have given you much for what you’re told is a long service under them, but sleep is not one of them. It doesn’t matter what duties you have today, you’re expected to be up regardless.

>You’re expected to be up, but if you have nothing going on then what’s the point? Take those painkillers you “confiscated.” and fall back to sleep.
>If you can’t fall asleep, then don’t try to. Turn your TV on. Maybe something’s happened, and there’s an interesting twist to today’s administrative reports.
>Time to wake yourself up then. Go to the bathroom, wash some water onto your face, and be prepared to put that damn mask on if you have to.
>Just take a little while to look over the city. Usually this ends up with a headache, because you end up contemplating things, but what the hell.
>Write in.

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>>4317274
>>If you can’t fall asleep, then don’t try to. Turn your TV on. Maybe something’s happened, and there’s an interesting twist to today’s administrative reports.
THE FUTURE IS WILD

>>4317274
>>If you can’t fall asleep, then don’t try to. Turn your TV on. Maybe something’s happened, and there’s an interesting twist to today’s administrative reports.

>>4317274
>Time to wake yourself up then. Go to the bathroom, wash some water onto your face, and be prepared to put that damn mask on if you have to.
I hope something's left of the mirror. I wouldn't be so sure about the water, though.

>Write in.
Punching your own leg or arm may expedite the process, may even help to shut up the implant.

>>4317274
Do crossfit while listening to Disturbed.

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>>4317274
>If you can’t fall asleep, then don’t try to. Turn your TV on. Maybe something’s happened, and there’s an interesting twist to today’s administrative reports.
OH SHIT SON, WE CIVIL PROTECTION NOW

>>4317274
>Time to wake yourself up then. Go to the bathroom, wash some water onto your face, and be prepared to put that damn mask on if you have to.

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>>4317284
>>4317342
>>4317351
>>4317380
>>4317384
>>4317430
https://youtu.be/WnEn7Ksxz1k

“Uyyyeeuggh.” Is the strange sound you make as you strain your weary, sleepless self into reaching over to the small tube television, sitting on a table not far from your bed. You have to stretch yourself out as you do, snaking an arm over the loaded, but not chambered USP sitting on your nightstand. It’s rather far, but thankfully whoever you were before your service, or at least your most recent memory wiping, was rather fit and flexible. Hair slips over your crusty eyes, and your crumpled, wrinkly blanket slips mostly off as you do, but you managed to click the television on, while your other arm smacks the radio off.

Your head pulses as you finally move into a sitting position, relaxing slightly as you give your attention to the smiling face of Dr. Breen. “I would like to address some recent… unfounded rumours that some citizens are discussing.”

You know how often these kinds of rumours are true. Still, it’s your job to make sure people don’t think they’re true, or at least express that idea around you.

“Some claim that the aggressor who recently tore through this community both us as a species and the universal union have worked so tirelessly to build has attacked and destroyed our finest detention center.” He says all this with a purely soothing tone, in spite of the truth of this “Aggressor.” You hadn’t faced the man yourself, and you’re glad for it, because the reports say that he not only out-gunned, but outsmarted the entire district. “Now,” he continues, “Let me begin by addressing the plausibility of this situation.”

As he reaches for a few papers, you feel your implants kick, continuing to pulse through your head. You suddenly twitch your head over, swearing your heard a voice to your left.
(cont.)

>>4317463
(cont.)
“The interloper in question, while he may have caught our civil protection officers off guard, the leaders of which have been severely punished-” You’d hate to be that captain. “- is not the trained assassin we had initially feared. Our records show that Dr. Gordon Freeman, is just that, a simple physicist. He had no advanced weapons or infiltration training before the arrival of our benefactors, and no ability to acquire such knowledge in the intervening years. To put it simply, it would be fantastical to imply that such a man would be able to overcome and annihilate the intense security of Nova Prospekt.”

Dr. Breen reshuffles his papers. As he does this, you rub your head, keeping your arm carefully away from your implants, less overwatch believe you’re attempting to tamper with them. What the hell is setting them off?

>Perhaps they just want you more prepared to be called in to active duty? Start getting dressed and cleaned up as you watch, overwatch might be fearing increased activity because of this. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Overwatch can think what it wants, you have illegal pain-killers in your nightstand, take some of those, and you’ll feel fine. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Overwatch is always complaining, today it’s just cranky. Ignore it, and keep watching. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>You heard a noise earlier. Maybe there’s something in here you haven’t noticed? You’ve got good ears, listen around. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Perhaps you’re forgetting something. Oftentimes when you think you have a clear schedule, it’s because you are forgetting it. Go check your calendar as you watch. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

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Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4317464
>>Perhaps you’re forgetting something. Oftentimes when you think you have a clear schedule, it’s because you are forgetting it. Go check your calendar as you watch. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

>>4317464
>Perhaps you’re forgetting something. Oftentimes when you think you have a clear schedule, it’s because you are forgetting it. Go check your calendar as you watch. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4317464
>You heard a noise earlier. Maybe there’s something in here you haven’t noticed? You’ve got good ears, listen around. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
In a world where headcrabs exist and burrow into all sorts of places, always be ready to check out noises.

>>4317464
>Perhaps you’re forgetting something. Oftentimes when you think you have a clear schedule, it’s because you are forgetting it. Go check your calendar as you watch. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on an 18. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

>>4317471
>>4317490
rolls don't count yet

>>4317512
>This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.

The roll is being taken regardless of what you vote for, so you can roll while voting for this instance.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4317519
oh for real? cool.

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I wonder if the CIA, both in the context of this fictional universe and our real-world universe, has any contingency plans for the takeover of the United States by a foreign power. They're extremely loyal patriots, after all, so I can't see them accepting the change openly. And as we can see from history, the French proved that organized underground rebellion can SERIOUSLY chip away at the occupying power's manpower and resource...so it really makes me wonder if some branch of our government has the resources and plans in place for such an event.
It helps that they're already well-experienced in organizing civil unrest in OTHER countries.

>>4317536
It's rather hard to fathom a foreign power invading the continental US successfully without it turning nuclear. Such plans would probably be more used as a thought experiment, to be applied to manipulating the conflicts of other countries.
>>4317471
>>4317483
>>4317490
>>4317512
>>4317519
>>4317535
One six here could set you just on the threshold, so if anyone wants to give one last roll, even if you've already rolled, I'll get right into writing.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4317564

>>4317564
Nuclear is a death sentence thanks to mutually assured destruction, and I like to think that our government wouldn't doom its citizens and the rest of the world to nuclear annihilation.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4317564

>>4317471
>>4317483
>>4317490
>>4317512
>>4317535
>>4317581
>>4317634

There’s that noise again, like distorted voices. Are you going crazy? The constant painful pulses from your implants don’t like that thought, and are making it rather difficult to focus on whatever your hearing. You look again to your left as Dr. Breen talks, seeing only the headboard of your bed, beyond which is thin drywall. People are talking outside, that’s all.

The TV continues with Dr. Breen’s speech. “Furthermore, the demolition of such a vast facility would require both considerable resources, and experience neither Dr. Freeman, nor his misguided compatriots have access to. One would either need explosives that could cover numerous square miles, or access to a full demolition crew and industrial grade equipment.”

That’s a rare sound, probably why it caught you by surprise. People rarely want to have chats in civil protection dormitories. Taking off one’s mask outside of the privacy of one’s own room is prohibited, and talking amongst each other is discouraged if it’s not for the purposes of enforcement. You would probably be able to understand some of it from here, if not for the damn migraine your implants are inducing. You need to find out what the hell they want.

“It is simply irrational to put forward the possibility that one man, with little training and available resources could be able to overpower the entire transhuman arm of Overwatch’s detention system.” The administrator continues. “However, I can confirm that Dr. Freeman did engage, and attack the outer prison defenses, shortly followed by one of his followers. They were swiftly and effectively contained, placed alongside the recently captured Eli Vance.”

Perhaps you’ve forgotten something, yeah, you never really have an empty schedule. Just a weird one that you manage to forget. You pull yourself out of bed, throwing your covers off to the side. As you do, you hear the sound of distant, distorted talking again, but just ignore it.

Rubbing your eyes, and staring at the calendar, you get a pretty good idea of what might be setting your implants off. Your eyes trace down to today’s date, and see red pen circled, reading “Mind wipe today.”
(cont.)

>>4317677
(cont.)
Jesus, how could you forget about that? A part of your mind wanders, throwing up the idea that these mind wipes aren’t just erasing memories, but making new ones harder to form, but a heavy pulse from your implants wipes that thought away from you. In fact, it’s not long until you’ll be picked up by a pair of officers. A lot of officers try to run away from mind-wipes, getting cold feet on the last days, so they've simply started escorting people to the chambers.

You're sure you've been mind-wiped more than once by now, and will be again. If you wanna get anywhere in civil protection, you have to. You're not even sure how old you are, given that the universal union keeps their assets fresh with a number of procedures. They don't tell you how often they do it to other officers, but you've had these memories for the past two years by now. Most rookies tend to panic at the thought, but you've grown detached from your own head, it has a tendency to wander around, leading to a punt from your implants.

You hoped that figuring out what you're forgetting might calm your implants, but for some reason your incessant headache doesn't want to go away after this realization. The implants keep pulsing, in fact, you swear it’s getting even worse.

And there’s those goddamn voices again, you still can’t hear what they’re saying.

>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Look around, maybe it’s being triggered by something in the environment. Search your room,and peak outside. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Perhaps, as a captain, it wants you to find those voices. They’re probably outside, right? They can’t be in your head? Suit up, and look outside. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>You’re done with these things. Take some of that confiscated medicine, and enjoy your last moments with your current memories, while pain free. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
>Write in. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4317680
>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

>>4317677
>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

Man I feel like people scarcely talk about just how absolutely horrible life on earth is after the combine

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4317680
>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4317680
Pumped up kicks

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4317680
>>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)

>>4317680
>Maybe it’s you. While some of the implants do hide themselves out of your own vision, you can still check the uncensored ones. Look over yourself in the mirror. (Roll 3d6+3, pass on a 15. This roll can be done with your vote, do 1d6 as normal, and the top three will be taken.)
Inb4 green lightning and a headache.
Is this trip to the future temporary, OP? I’d like to return to Black Mesa at some point.

>>4318290
We literally just left, anon
And it’s just another moment like the glimpse into our forgotten memory, but a glimpse into a future moment instead. Our consciousness can peer across time and space, but it must return to its vessel to make the events it sees reality. Otherwise it would merely see contradictions that could not occur.

>>4317688
>>4317701
Half life is really gruesome in general.
>>4317808
>>4317877
>>4318016
Don't worry, it won't be much longer.
>>4318290
A lot of this is because of the vortigaunts help as well.

Your implants are still throbbing, over and over again, emanating over the rest of your brain to the point of causing your nerves to tingle. There’s gotta be something wrong with your implants. Maybe it’ll get fixed in your coming memory-wipe, but you’d prefer not to spend your last few minutes with a pounding headache.

At first, you begin to raise your hand up to your face, keeping your eyes over the ending of Breen’s report, as the feed clicks off. You're quickly reminded of their anti-tamper protocol however, as they send a large, heavy kick into the side of your skull, like a soccer player with a steel toe. The pain is enough to leave you disoriented for only a second.

Right, you forgot, no touching the implants. You forget a lot.

You groan, and start heading to your bathroom, flicking on the lights and feeling your head kick in reaction to the sterile lighting of your old, worn bathroom lighting fixtures. In the entryway, where the apartments that went untouched since your benefactors occupation would have featured an actual door is simply a camera, whose eye tracks you into your personal apartments bathroom. You’re decently sure that it’s only watched by a wetware algorithm somewhere, but you still occasionally like to find spots you know it can’t track you, even if the implants pulse angrily in response. At least for this set of memories, you’ve always found a bit of comfort in knowing you have the ability to keep a secret.

Looking into your dirty, partially cracked mirror, you’re once again reminded of your own facial appearance. Given that you’re expected not to look at the faces of other officers, you wouldn’t be able to tell if your appearance is that remarkable for an officer. However, you’d wager that if you were allowed to grow out your hair, and didn’t have a few metal casings covering the wetware the universal union has wired into your brain, you’d be rather unremarkable. Your hair color is dark, but you wouldn’t go so far as to call it pitch black. Your skin clearly hasn’t gotten much light, but the sky is usually overcast, and most people stay inside and away from officers like you, so that’s not outstanding either. Brown eyes, average features, remove the mandates and additions of the universal union and you wouldn’t be able to be picked out of a line-up because your face is simply forgettable.
(cont.)

>>4318661
(cont.)
Of course, all those forgettable features are broken up by a set of metal implants, casings over wetware wiring worming into your brain. A few of them are simple, visible, things like communication implants and vitality monitors that don’t need to be hidden from view. It’s just your luck that they look perfectly fine, leaving the cluster of blurriness on the side of your face, self concealing implants that don’t give you, or anyone else with similar implants, a chance to look at them.

Against the consent of your pulsating headache, you bring your head closer to the mirror, hoping something might reveal itself. Your implants try to break your focus on the area, blurring your vision even further and hitting you with inconsistent bouts of head-pain.

You’re about to give up, when in the distance, you hear a loud thundering sound, and the lights flick off. A small, green light fills the room for just a split second, before suddenly it fades from vision.

Or perhaps is censored by your implants.

The lights flicker often, and you expect them to return sometime soon, so you just look around the room, trying to see the light again. As you do, you hear the voices again, this time you can make out some words.

“A backdoor... transmitting somewhere…” An accented voice says, in distorted quality. “Bloody massive...“

Your implants start to kick on, gaining strength as you start feeling more suspicious.

>Make it known that it can hear you! Demand whoever’s talking reveal themselves, your a civil protection captain.
>Someone’s clearly playing games with you. Grab your baton out of the night stand and prepare to flip your room upside down looking for this interloper.
>Just sit quietly, don’t let the voice know that you know about it, just wait to see what it says.
>Just ignore the sounds, whatever it is, it isn’t your problem, you’re not on duty, and in less than an hour you’re going to forget about it.
>Write in a response.

>>4318662
>Write in a response
Grab gun
Grab baton
Ask who's there.

>>4318662
>Just sit quietly, don’t let the voice know that you know about it, just wait to see what it says.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4318803
>>4318874
Tiebreaker roll.

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Well if our implants are anything like the implants given to the Overwatch elite, we probably have a big chunk of flesh taken out of the sides of our head. Won't be able to tell without seeing our helmet though. Is this image to be our fate? At least we kept our thicc thighs.

>>4318937
>>4318874
>>4318915
“Who’s there?” You quickly ask, trying to sound as stern as you can without your mask. You’ll admit, you’re not able to sound as intimidating as you could with the voice modulation.

As you look around your bathroom, you still hear the voice, always coming from your left ear. You still can’t make out all of it, the sound is choppy and robotic, as though it’s running on strained bandwidth. Your first thought is a radio somewhere, but you know you left yours off, and in another room, not strapped to the side of your face.

As you look around, you once again see the light, this time taking your censorship implant by surprise once again, due to the way it scatters as it hits your dirty mirror. This time, the mysterious light is without any sort of color, emanating from the left side of your skull, dug into the zone of censored implants. The green hue the light carries has already been muddled from your mind, no longer making any sense when you look at it. Your head pulses every second you keep your eyes on it, until the slight glow itself no longer registers in your ocular lobe.

You shake your head as you pull yourself away from the sight, just as the lights return around you. Along with the power, a distant alarm sounds on some poor citizens' block. “ATTENTION RESIDENTS.” It says, with a sterile and cynical voice. “DAMAGE TO ELECTRICAL INFRASTRUCTURE DETECTED, MALICIOUS INTENTIONS SUSPECTED. REMAIN INDOORS AND AWAIT VISITS FROM CIVIL PROTECTION. COMPLIANCE IS MANDATORY.”

“Who the hell is there?” You repeat, moving out of your bathroom, towards the night stand.

Just under the sound of distant alarms, you hear the voices continue. “Oh… knows.”

Another voice, with an American accent chimes in. “What?” It’s too muddled to understand once again. “You asked… help…wetware.”

Trying to push past the rapidly intensifying pain in your head, you make it to the nightstand, reaching for your weapons. Quickly, you chamber a round into your pistol, and pick up the stun baton leaning on the table. “Noncompliance, respond, who is there?”

“Uhhh... “ Is all you hear for a solid second. Then, there’s a digital sound of systems being clumsily reworked, right next to your auditory nerves. Suddenly, the voice continues with what sounds to be a faded eastern european accent. “Put your gun down-” a short cut of static, ”-not in there with you.” The sound of this voice once again causes the implants to fire off, burning into your brain and giving you a hard time focusing on any speech.
(cont.)

>>4319002
(cont.)
>Just tell them to shut up, you can’t stand this pain, and need a moment to figure out what the hell is going on.
>Threaten whoever is talking to you to reveal their actual location, or your going to find them.
>You need to shut these implants up for a moment, take those painkillers so you can actually think.
>Lie to the voice you’re hearing. If it is an anti-citizen you’re hearing, you might get some information claiming to be on their side.
>You’re clearly going crazy, get dressed and head down to the mind-wipe room so they can sort all of this out quicker.
>Write in.

>>4319003
>You need to shut these implants up for a moment, take those painkillers so you can actually think.
followed by
>Lie to the voice you’re hearing. If it is an anti-citizen you’re hearing, you might get some information claiming to be on their side.

>>4319003
>You need to shut these implants up for a moment, take those painkillers so you can actually think.

Maybe they aren't just testing the protocols but have some sort of plan.

>>4319002
>You need to shut these implants up for a moment, take those painkillers so you can actually think.

>>4319003
>You need to shut these implants up for a moment, take those painkillers so you can actually think.

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>>4319009
>>4319103
>>4319139
>>4319150
You put your hand to your forehead, as you try in vain to process what’s going on. Your skull is ceaselessly pounding as excess electrical signals are pushed back into you, attempting to correct your thoughts. These measures have their place, and you’ve certainly met a few rookies who could use them more, but right now all they’re doing is preventing you from gaining any focus.

Putting your stun-rod down, leaning up against the end of your metal bed frame as to free up a hand, you keep one hand wrapped around the grip as the other opens your drawer, your body blocking the camera’s ability to see your stash.

Items you’ve confiscated from citizens in this life, some interesting, some not so, have gathered up over time in here. You shove your hand past a book labeled “From Here to There in Under a Second,” to palm a small, orange bottle. You place the gun into the waistband of your night wear.

The two voices are still murmuring something about backdoors, transmissions, and neurology. However, it seems that despite their best efforts, communication is getting worse. You can feel your comms implant refocusing itself as somewhere, Overwatch wakes up and floods with chatter.

You squeeze down on the cap, shaking out a few pills from within. You quickly throw them into your mouth, before reaching up onto the nightstand, where a lukewarm can of water sits. You crack it open, and wash down the pills.

“Not… opening probes… all…” The eastern european rambles, “id it co… from?”

“Jus… backdoor... “ The american voice responds. “...all the time… not special.”

“Directly … someone’s head…” You can hear the russian voice say. “.. transmitting.”

Transmitting, the guy keeps saying it’s transmitting, what the hell is he talking about?

Relief is quickly coming to your head, and as the pain starts to fade away, another sensation arises. Your room, your gun, your clothes, your implants, all start to feel rather surreal.

>Maybe it’s time to report to your superiors, get someone’s attention to what’s going on, then perhaps they can fix this.
>Time for everyone to calm down, and start explaining things. Remind the voices that you can hear them, but try negotiating with them.
>Lie to the voice you’re hearing. If it is an anti-citizen you’re hearing, you might get some information claiming to be on their side.
>Now that your pain is reduced, try touching your implants, maybe you can feel what the hell is going on with them.
>If overwatch is firing up, that means something is going on, take a look out the window, prepare to get suited up.

>>4319344
>Time for everyone to calm down, and start explaining things. Remind the voices that you can hear them, but try negotiating with them.

>>4319344
>Now that your pain is reduced, try touching your implants, maybe you can feel what the hell is going on with them.

>>4319344
>Now that your pain is reduced, try touching your implants, maybe you can feel what the hell is going on with them.

>>4319344
>Now that your pain is reduced, try touching your implants, maybe you can feel what the hell is going on with them.

>>4319352
>>4319382
>>4319449
>>4319587
For the first time, at least since your most recent mindwipe, you tentatively start to move your fingers closer to your implants. Even with the painkillers, you can feel the dull firing of anti-tamper signals shot into the side of your brain. Your fingers twitch slightly as they approach. Simultaneously, that strange feeling of surreality continues to grow stronger and stronger.

You start running the tips of your fingers along the surfaces of the implants, and the system moves to secondary measures. Slowly the fingertips, then the arm begin to feel numb as your censorship implants grow more agitated, preventing you from trying to snoop where you shouldn’t.

“Wha- ... -’s it doing to…” The american accent comments. “..-ovocain?”

Even as your arms grow even more numb, losing their finer sense of touch, you continue to trace across. These are far less sleek and simple than their visible counter-parts. Ports are dotted around them, going back through multiple eras of overwatch’s occupation, dug into your skull. Most all of them are empty, and you can only assume many of them would only be put into use when your head is plugged directly into the universal unions systems, like during the process of erasing one’s memories.

You’re about to give up searching, and to allow your hand to fall over limply, but you begin to feel something put into one of those ports. The immediate thought that fills your head is that you have to pull it out, and take a look, but as you try you feel something breech past the numbness. A shock of static or loose electricity forces your arm to twitch away from your head.

The feeling of surreality is quickly growing, along with another feeling. The implants, realizing they’re losing the battle to painkillers, start implementing harder, more radical responses to your actions. A feeling of electricity starts running through your body, and then something presses down on your brain stem.

“Transmitti-... The russian accent starts, before suddenly noticing something else, saying “What-”

Suddenly, your body starts to spasm out of control. You fall to the floor, shaking and twitching, even though the constant pain of your implants is no longer within the issue, it still intends to control you through whatever means available.

And because of something in your head, a tiny pinhole in the implant’s pain where the foreign object sits, it’s always with you.

Suddenly, something else slips through that pinhole, grabbing you up with clawed talons, and pulling you back. Everything goes black for a moment, snapping you out of it all.
(cont.)

>>4319708
(cont.)
You are Gabriella Oppenheimer, you think to yourself, twenty-seven years old, working for the central intelligence agency, performing reconnaissance at the Black Mesa research facility after an incident brought about extra dimensional hostels. This comes back to you as you wake up, while entire consciousness seems to lurch, and the pain of the migraine comes back to you.

Given the fact that you didn’t return to a seizure this time, you feel like you’ve been unconscious for at least minutes. You also, once again, feel ready to vomit.

As your eyes slowly open to what you hope is the real world, they’re immediately greeted by the cyclopean eye of a vortigaunt.

>The alien better have learned some more english in the time you were out, so it can explain what the hell it just showed you.
>No, you need to get out of this room, it’s insane in here. Go find Dr. Guttman, see if he can make you feel a little healthier.
>You’ve been in a situation like this before, it was just less clear, and slightly less insane, you just need to take a moment to breathe, assure yourself you’re still you, and calm down.
>Write in a response.

>>4319715
>The alien better have learned some more english in the time you were out, so it can explain what the hell it just showed you, while you lie on the ground and make sure you're still you and calm down.

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It's probably gonna be my last post of the day, and tomorrow is wednesday, meaning I'll be taking a short break.

I'd like to ask you guys if you feel like the story is respectful to the setting. I write pretty much on the edge of my seat, and kinda go with ideas as they come. As a result, shit feels a little crazy, so I'd like to ask you guys if you feel it ever gets too detached from half life.

As well, as always, I like to hear feedback and criticism. Especially after that sequence, I wrote a lot of it on the spot, and didn't expect it to be as long as it was.

This thread and the last have been kinda weird because I haven't recognized any of the people I usually recognize. You're all great players though. See ya Thursday.

>>4319715
>You’ve been in a situation like this before, it was just less clear, and slightly less insane, you just need to take a moment to breathe, assure yourself you’re still you, and calm down.
Then
>The alien better have learned some more english in the time you were out, so it can explain what the hell it just showed you.

>>4319737
I'd say that the story is plenty respectful to the setting, though the whole psychic human bit is just something that I really have no reference comparison for, vortessence shenanigans as well.

Hey I forgot, did we ever get a description of our character? I can only remember some stuff regarding our sexual features due to some funny votes, but otherwise I can't remember anything else.

>>4319715
>boop the vortigaunt

>>4319816
We have not. And technically, the description of the Civil Protection Captain we just spied on might not be an accurate description of us - vortigaunts describe everyone as being part of each other as an interwoven tapestry of vortessence. So it's not impossible for a random CP's malfunctioning implants to be what affects us.
But that's just a theory.

>>4319715
>The alien better have learned some more english in the time you were out, so it can explain what the hell it just showed you.

>>4319737
>story is respectful to the setting
The setting has started the inevitable retcon cycle, so at this point it's a free for all.

As for the quest itself, of course, it's not up there with Full Life Consequences, with lack of dead pants and zombie ghosts. Just some nerd details like how implants may work and how they show up on MRI in the past because of time travel shenanigans. Or how people are actually noticing how ridiculous the game events look from the outside. I think it's good balance, the story is moving with plausible explanations and without drowning the reader/player in minute stuff.

>>4317536
More Frenchmen died fighting the Soviet menace than fighting the Germans. The French underground is a spook.

>>4321513
That just means the germans suck at killing toads

>>4319747
>>4320686
Thanks for the input. My greatest fear with all the migraine stuff is that it comes off as "MC is super speshal" since while there are hints at the possibility in the setting, there aren't any kind of human psychics in half life.
>>4319816
The woman in the mirror looked like you, but your memory is slightly blurry throughout, and you don't have a very unique face.
>>4319730
>>4319745
>>4319943
“What the hell was that?” Are your immediate words as you process what just happened, realizing where you are once again, and what the creature in front of you is. A million questions begin to run through your mind, and you start asking them to the creature. “Where was that?” Is your first question, then you quickly spit out, “Who was that?” Sure, the face in the mirror sort of looked like you, with short hair and metal stuck in her face, but you have common features. Forgettable faces that couldn’t be described to a police sketch artist are one of the numerous things they look for in the recruitment of spies. There are probably millions out there with your features.

You‘re about to throw out another question, but instead you pause yourself, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. What you just saw was somewhere else, and unless there's a country with developed wetware systems, not the present either. With a quick wave of your hand, you signal the creature before you to back up and give you some breathing space.

As the alien backs up, more of the sterile light filters heavily into your eyes, striking you and irritating your incessant migraine even more. You grab your forehead as the pain flares out, and start demanding the creature ask you questions. “You understand me right?” You start, just to establish communications. “You’ve already rooted through my head.”

“Yesss.” The creature murmurs, using only its simplified understanding of the language.

“Alright.” You respond, holding your forehead. It’s still hard to focus as your head spins. Before you get to asking further questions, you take a moment to look at the clockup on the wall. The nearby light fixture burns your eyes as you squint. It’s approaching the airdrop’s arrival time.

A very loud part of your mind currently hopes, likely in vain, that the creature won’t make you decipher cryptic messages with a spinning head.
(cont.)

File: vortibro.png (730 KB, 732x771)

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>>4319898
The vortiguant still sees you now clearly, booping his snoot.
>>4321966
(cont.)
The woman’s face you saw in the mirror was as forgettable as your face, so it's possible it wasn't you, even if she did look like you. Whoever she was, she didn’t work for the CIA. Something called “Overwatch” bossed her around, and you remember thinking a lot about the “Universal Union.” The name alone tells you they are at least not restricted to earth. That woman was willing to have her memories erased like it was a dental check-up, and clearly to maintain that kind of obedience, they had put some sort of computerized implants into the side of her head, roughly where the migraine is currently beating down on you like a hammer. Plugged into them was something else, that shocked her hand when she tried to touch it. Throughout all of this, the woman was either hallucinating, or something else got into her head. Two voices, one american and one eastern european. You vaguely remember the word “backdoor,” being mentioned, and now that you have your own memories, can’t help but feel like that american accent was familiar.

>The woman you saw, was that you? If not, then who was it? Their overall features matched yours, but that’s not uncommon for you.
>What were those devices in your head, the implants and the thing that shocked you. Why were they there?
>Who were those people talking to you? Now that you think about it, one them, the american accent, sounded oddly familiar.
>Why in god’s name was Administrator Breen on the television in that country?
>What the hell is “Civil Protection, Nova Prospekt, and Overwatch?” Why were you, or whoever that person was, working for them?
>Write in a response.

>>4321967
>What were those devices in your head, the implants and the thing that shocked you. Why were they there?
The root cause of the migraine's restrictions, I feel. Understanding the implants is key to getting around them.
Admittedly, I am very curious about the two voices, but we might have time for one more question after this one.

>>4321966
no psychics in half life YET that is
>>4321967
>Write in a response.
Ask the Vortigaunt why it showed us that. What was the general summary? And thing on the way or he can use to explain what we just witnessed?
Hows our painting? Can we draw out a picture of anything iconic we recognize in the memory? Perhaps some human words like "Overwatch" or any symbols.

>>4321967
>What were those devices in your head, the implants and the thing that shocked you. Why were they there?

>>4321967
>The woman you saw, was that you? If not, then who was it? Their overall features matched yours, but that’s not uncommon for you.
>What were those devices in your head, the implants and the thing that shocked you. Why were they there?

>>4321977
>>4321979
>>4322022
>>4322173
“The person you just showed me, they had different devices surgically implanted into their head.” You start to explain, remembering the sleak, minimal design of the devices this “Overwatch” built into your’s or someone’s skull. “What exactly were they?” You still keep your words simple. Even if the creature is learning your language fast, it’s still new. You tap on your head at the same time, as to help it understand with visual cues.

The creature mutters something in its alien language, “Shu'ulathoi” is one of the words it places emphasis on, as it points to its painting. You notice that the migraine doesn’t kick on the alien’s word, but does seem to notice the picture, sending another kick and building a red glow around the corner of your eyes.

You remember the creature from your deal with the suited man, some sort of large grub, floating over Dr. Breen. You only caught a glimpse, but can still remember its intimidating presence over the scene. Somehow, this creature, or at least one of these creatures, is involved in the migraine that is currently blurring every ounce of focus you have. Still, when you felt the censored area of implants, you could feel something foreign plugged into your head.

“What was the other thing in there?” You ask, remembering how it shocked you, and how something in your implants glowed a muted green when the lights flickered. “Did your people have anything to do with it.”

In response, the alien looks down to your equipment. Rather kindly, the creature has organized your equipment back into your bag and closed it up. All of it except for one item, left in his palm. He holds out his taloned hands, waiting for you to reciprocate. Confused and slightly dazed, you tentatively hold your hand out, and he drops into them the small dongle he took earlier, the same one he held up against the picture of you on the mural. It says something in its alien language as you take it.

You take another glance at the clock, trying to focus your eyes on it in spite of your migraine. You don’t have much time to ask more questions.

>What is the grub like creature? What does it want with you, or Dr. Breen.
>The woman you saw, was that you? If not, then who was it? Their overall features matched yours, but that’s not uncommon for you.
>Who were those people talking to you? Now that you think about it, one of them, the american accent, sounded oddly familiar.
>Why in god’s name was Administrator Breen on the television in that country?
>What the hell is “Civil Protection, Nova Prospekt, and Overwatch?” Why were you, or whoever that person was, working for them?
>Write in a response.

>>4322227
>Who were those people talking to you? Now that you think about it, one of them, the american accent, sounded oddly familiar.
Very close to a huge get, Lazlo

>>4322227
>Who were those people talking to you? Now that you think about it, one of them, the american accent, sounded oddly familiar.
>What is the grub like creature? What does it want with you, or Dr. Breen.

Being able to learn about the combine leadership is nice

>>4322227
>The woman you saw, was that you? If not, then who was it? Their overall features matched yours, but that’s not uncommon for you.
Otherwise speculation on time travel for us would still be speculation.

>>4322239
>>4322336
>>4322344
As you think back to the strange life you just saw, you try and think about where you heard the american’s voice from. It was definitely someone approaching the late stages of middle age, late-forties to mid-fifties depending on their aging factors. If you knew when that was, you might be able to understand it a bit better. You don’t know the younger voice you heard, and the choppiness made it hard to distinguish anything concrete, but he definitely sounded eastern european. What little you did see of that place from the inside definitely reminded you of Bulgaria, Romania, or perhaps even Lithuania. Perhaps he was a native?

You pause your speculation to return to the vortigaunt standing with you, expectantly watching your face for another question. Rubbing your forehead as pain courses across the left side, you explain, “I heard two people. One American and one Slavic. They might have been talking through the implants, but I’m not sure. Who were those people?”

The vortigaunt simply nods, then mutters more of its alien language, turning around. The creature waddles over to the counter, where sets of drawers sit, some with locks, and some none. The vortigaunt pulls open a few, then turns his attention to others. He continues this process until he settles on one of the locked up drawers, pointing at it expectantly.

The lock on the drawer is nothing you haven’t picked before. You were able to pick them while still in high school, and that’s no appraisal of your own school. These kinds of Dinky locks are for papers not meant to be left alone, likely incomplete, or not in their final destination. Without any security pins, all you need to do is pull your torque wrench off of your belt, and rake the concealed pick in your hair across the pins until it clicks open, something anyone could do, on the verge of vomiting or not.

When the core turns, and the drawer slides open, the vortigaunt quickly moves past you, flicking through folders until he finds one with a large Lambda symbol written on the front. “Guttman, Richard.” Is on the front page, in bold, black text.

That’s where you recognize the voice from. What the hell was Guttman doing fiddling through your mind? Knowing you don’t have much time before you get a call from Heisenberg asking you to come out for his arrival, you open the first page, reading “GUTTMAN, MD, OFFICIALLY APPROVED FOR NEUROLOGICAL TREATMENT OF LAMBDA LEVEL STAFF, INCLUDING ACCIDENTS RELATED TO LAMBDA CLEARANCE INFORMATION.”
(cont.)

>>4322582
(cont.)
Apparently, when one of the people in the Lambda labs an injury or illness that primarily affects the brain, and the causes are highly classified, Guttman is one of the people who’s allowed to treat it. You’d doubt they’d tell him the full story, just whatever they thought he needed to know.

As you start thinking of asking the vortigaunts more questions, or reading further into the pamphlet, you hear your radio from within your pockets. Pulling it out, and setting the encryption keys to Heisenberg’s channel, you flick the sound on.

“Hello there Agent Oppenheimer,” Says the voice of your Black Hawk pilot, “Just calling in to make sure you’ve got a sufficiently embarrassing welcoming party for our little brother in the ISA who’ll be flying in some of your requests. I’ve also got your extra gear right here, but don’t forget you’re gonna have to fish it out of the lake yourself.”

You should probably be up there soon, grab your gear and leave the vortigaunt to his own devices.

>Just keep it professional, you’re not in the mood for pilot banter. Tell him you’ll have Breen with you when you meet the osprey pilot.
>”Don’t worry Heisenberg, I’ll just have my alien friends pick it up with their tractor beam.”
>”Be nice Heisenberg, the ISA might’ve shot me once or twice but overall they’ve made my job easier.”
>Write in some cool pilot banter before you head up.

>>4322585
>”Don’t worry Heisenberg, I’ll just have my alien friends pick it up with their tractor beam.”
Let's get a move on

>>4322585
>”Don’t worry Heisenberg, I’ll just have my alien friends pick it up with their tractor beam.”

>>4322607
>>4322706
“I’ll be fine out there Heisenberg. It turns out not all of these extradimensional commies are here willingly.” You explain. “I’ve done a pretty good job so far of making friends, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince them to lend me a tractor beam.” While you joke, you do also know that retrieving a drop in Black Mesa might come with some issues. The military will most certainly attempt to investigate it as well, meaning you’re going to have to fend them off the equipment.

“Then don’t let it get looted while you’re firing up the spaceship, Ms. Ambassador.” Heisenberg respond, clearly joking. It’s probably a lot easier to be as optimistic as him while far above the conflict, rather than among it.

“Don’t worry. I’ve handled plenty so far.” You respond, looking down at the vortigaunt currently staring at you quietly. “I’ll talk to you again when I’m topside.”

“Affirmative.” The pilot responds, before the radio shuts off. You leave the vortigaunt to his own devices. You can return to him later, but leaving a landing waiting in the middle of a war-zone will only leave you on the hook for endangering the staff.

Leaving the room and heading downstairs in search of Dr. Breen, you immediately notice that he’s certainly informed the staff of the leave while you were out. Experiments are being “cut short” in an incredibly grim fashion. The security guards finally have to put the numerous zombified marines out of their misery. Gunshots still ring down the hall from guards who will likely need therapy for all of this someday, even when you approach a reclusive Dr. Breen.

“Ms. Oppenheimer?” Dr Breen calls, seeing you approach with your bag of equipment. Despite keeping his distance from the majority of his staff, Dr. Breen still keeps his back straight, with an expression like a high school principal talking to a student with a history of bad behavior. As you approach, he continues. “I did what you asked, and kept your name out of mention when discussing my involvement with the CIA.”

“Thank you.” You respond.

“Of course. However I will inform you that it came at the cost of the trust I have worked so hard to build with this community of intellectuals.” Dr. Breen adds. “They feel I am buying my own express ticket out, while leaving them to trek through the trenches.
(cont.)

>>4322759
(cont.)
>You really don’t care about Dr. Breen’s reputation.
>Insure Dr. Breen that history will remember him as the good guy. He obeyed the CIA, and is saving lives because of it.
>Tell Dr. Breen that you don’t think his staff trust him as much as he thinks they trust him.
>Tell Dr. Breen that they’re not really his staff anymore. It doesn’t matter what Black Mesa thinks of him because the staff will be moved elsewhere and the organization will dissolve.
>Write in.

As well, before heading to the surface with Dr. Breen, you should consider who you intend to bring with you. If you have to get to your supply drop for the marines, that might mean fighting them for it.
(Pick as many as you’d like.)
>Bring Guttman with you.
>Bring Marietta with you.
>Bring Reilly with you, she’s certainly feeling a lot better, but not perfect.
>Bring the vortigaunt you spoke with with you.

>>4322761
>Tell Dr. Breen that they’re not really his staff anymore. It doesn’t matter what Black Mesa thinks of him because the staff will be moved elsewhere and the organization will dissolve.
I cant think of anything else to say to him. We can work on his relationship with them until there isnt an alien invasion looming over our heads

>Bring Guttman with you.
>Bring Marietta with you.
Would Reilly's condition improve if we apply the mes kits, or would it just be better to send her off with the evac group? Are we taking the ISA agent too or is he gonna be exfiltrated?

>>4322787
I forgot an option to include Kirchoff, so yeah, if you want to take him then
>Take Kirchoff with you. He could have some insights into the military.
Extracting anyone else would’ve had to have been done when initially calling your handler.

>>4322761
>Bring Guttman with you.
>Bring Marietta with you.
Tell em our visions.

>>4322761
>Insure Dr. Breen that history will remember him as the good guy. He obeyed the CIA, and is saving lives because of it.
>Bring Guttman with you.
>Bring the vortigaunt you spoke with with you.

>>4323022

+1

>>4323133
>>4323022
Wouldnt that admit to having Gabby's mind compromised to some degree by the aliens?

>>4323193
We can just phrase it as the alien showed us a vision.

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>>4322787
>>4322810
>>4323022
>>4323132
>>4323133
I just wanna quickly ask for the sake of feedback. Does anyone feel like I pulled you out of questioning the vortigaunt to abruptly, or too quickly?
It feels awkward walking alongside Dr. Breen, having seen what you’ve seen. Even if you only have glimpses of the man’s future, you know there’s something about him not to be trusted. The man’s charismatic, and is apparently the future administrator of a country. Still, he’s useful to the CIA, and that suited man wanted you to keep him alive until he was out of Black Mesa.

“They’re not really your staff anymore Dr. Breen.” You explain to the man, hoping to shoot down some of his ambitions. “Black Mesa as an organization will probably be broken up after all of this is over.” There isn’t exactly time to think about a bureaucrat's reputation among an alien invasion. Sure, keeping a good rapport with Dr. Breen is important, but you’ve got more important issues on hand.

“Dissolved?” Breen exclaims. “My dear, such a decision would be disastrous. Especially with our competitors in aperture having vanished, such dissolution would slow down scientific progress.”

“It wouldn’t be my decision.” You respond as you walk, trying to look down at the tiles as your head pulses with the passing of each light. With your head kicking you repeatedly, and your mind chasing back after the things you just saw, you find it hard to focus on Breen’s complaints. “If it makes you feel better Dr. Breen, your staff might not see it now, but history will remember you as one of the good guys here.” Of course, if you do your job right, few will remember this, and those that do won’t talk about it. “You’re listening to the CIA. We’re trying to save lives here, and that usually means collection information as quickly as possible.”

Dr. Breen doesn’t seem totally convinced, although you have to wonder whether or not he really cares in the long term, or if it’s simply an act to hide his intentions. Could that alien meeting, or his position in the society you saw, have been set up by the man?

As you move up to the surface, you stop by the office you claimed. Reilly is currently covered in new, clean sets of actual bandages, while Dr. Guttman looks over any medicines he was able to collect, while Marietta appears to be reading through sets of documents she likely pulled from medical bins. Wythoff and Kirchoff don’t appear to be in here.

“Hey Marietta, Guttman?” You call, grabbing their attention. “I called for a few things to be flown in, and Dr. Breen to be flown out, I need someone topside with me to help get it all together.”

“Don’t I pay taxes for you to do that yourself?” Guttman jokes as he stands up, causing Reilly to chuckle. As you hear Guttman’s voice, it seems that what the vortigaunt said was right. The american voice you heard did sound like an older Guttman.
(cont.)

>>4323782
(cont.)
“Got it.” Marietta says as she stands up. The four of you start to make your way to the surface, where an ISA pilot is probably currently descending to drop off a team of Black Ops, and pick up Dr. Breen.

While you walk, you could take some time to catch up Marietta and Guttman on some of the things you’ve found out, or discuss among them.

>Take some time to explain what the vortigaunt showed you, the drawing and the dream. Of course, Dr. Breen is right there.
>Inform them of what you learned about Dr. Breen’s “Investor.”
>Tell them what you found out about the resonance cascade, the possibility of intelligent interference, and time travel.
>Ask Dr. Guttman about the documents you found about him. Don’t mention your dream, but ask what he may know about the lambda labs.
>Write in.

>>4323784
>Ask Dr. Guttman about the documents you found about him. Don’t mention your dream, but ask what he may know about the lambda labs.

>>4323784
Does this mean we're not taking the ISA agent?

>>4324065
Nobody voted to take him with you, so no, he'll wait in the infirmary. . Just to be clear, you're not leaving anyone behind permanently right now. You just might encounter some trouble. Since you decided to parachute in the supply drop, you don't know exactly where it will land.

>>4323903
With a moment to talk amongst each-other as you walk, you decide to use it in order to get a bit of information out of what you just learned. While you certainly don’t want to talk about your recent vortal experience with Dr. Breen in ear-shot, the document the vortigaunt used to express Dr. Guttman as one of the two voices you were hearing also revealed that your residing neurologist also worked with the lambda team on occasion. That means he might know some things, and Dr. Breen would already know about these assignments.

“Guttman, I found one of your employment files.” You mention as you walk. The migraine is one such high alert at the moment, that even just thinking about those elicits a painful reaction to tear through your skull.

“Really?” He responds, with no tone of concern or fear of what you may have found. If he hasn’t told you anything, it’s because you haven’t asked. “You didn’t see my bank information did you?”

“Don’t worry Guttman.” Marietta responds, teasingly. “It’s already on file. Someone working for our handler already knows that information.”

“Damn you people are good.” He responds. “I’ve never even paid taxes. What did you actuall find then?”

“That you’re the medical neurologist for lambda staff.” You explain, pulling the folder out of your bag. “You never mentioned anything about it.”

“Didn’t think it was important. Do you have a really screwy looking brain for me to scan? Other than your own of course.” He responds.

The migraine seems to slap you across the face at his joke, preventing you from chuckling in response.

Dr. Breen suddenly interrupts. “If I recall correctly, Dr. Guttman was chosen due to his lack of eagerness to investigate the operations of the lambda labs.”

“Before the universe tore in half I never really minded the lambda labs. Taking the assignment came with a big pay-boost for only a little extra work once a year.” Guttman explains. “Although every case I got from the HEV teams over there was fucking wild.”

Breen shoots the neurologist a dirty look, but Guttman continues on anyway. “A lot of the times they’d come to me with weird symptoms, loss of judgement, confusion, hallucinations, hell one of them started having anxiety attacks. The shrinks had thought they were just developing PTSD before they came to me.” Guttman prepares his thoughts for a moment, getting ready to give you a quick neurology lesson. “The brain has a lot of shortcuts built into it, helps us make decisions and stuff, and with the right equipment, you can see all the pathways signals travel down, and how strong they are. When I looked into their heads, it was like they had been rewired.”
(cont)

>>4324271
(cont.)
“Was it like my brain scans?” You ask, immediately thinking of the migraines.

“Nah, nah, everything was… possible, it was just reworked. Restructured. Some of the shrinks did a behavioral study and told us their judgement was off, and they were losing memory.” Guttman explains. “For whatever reason however, they kept sending the same people back to me, so I can only assume that whatever they were doing to cause it, they didn’t stop doing.”

As the group starts approaching the exit, you all put your gear back on while walking and talking, before you reach the door. As Guttman talks to you about his experiences providing medical care to the lambda team, you hear your radio buzz once again. You pick it up, taking a second to hone your focus as the persistent migraine tries to keep preventing it.

Standing at the door to exit, Marietta starts working on unlocking the infirmary without a key, simply picking away. Your caller sounds to be in the back of an osprey, with other professionals talking amongst themselves. Keeping it brief, a gruff voice says, “Oppenheimer, you asked for a team? This is Ruppelt Squad. We’re less than a minute out from you. It’s gonna be a hectic few minutes when we land so we can leave quickly, you got any plans you want to establish before touchdown, because we want to get to escorting your civilians as quick as we can.”

It makes plenty of sense. If they catch on to the fact that this ISA marked bird isn’t carrying their own troops, you might have to worry about marines investigating the infirmary. You want it to be clear by then.

>Actually, tell Ruppelt squad to wait in the infirmary. You want to follow along with the group of civilians, so you want them to not be too far after you come back from anomalous materials.
>Tell them to leave Dr. Kleiner here for you, he’ll be better off in the field.
>Tell them about the vortigaunt test subject, explain that he’s friendly, and vital to your operations.
>Try to convince Ruppelt’s Sergeant to be a bit more enthusiastic in protecting the infirmary lives. Convince him they’re all vital to the operation, even if most of them are ordinary medical staff who don’t know anything. Of course, if you fail to convince him, he might be even less enthused. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 15.)
>Tell them to bring Kirchoff with them, he can help out with the defense aspect, and he knows things.
>Write in.

>>4324274
>Tell them about the vortigaunt test subject, explain that he’s friendly, and vital to your operations.
I've taken a liking to Kirchoff. I don't want him to get shot behind a shed after a lengthy interrogation when everyone gets collected outside the facility.

>>4324274
>Tell them about the vortigaunt test subject, explain that he’s friendly, and vital to your operations.

>>4324303
>>4324431
>>4324303
>>4324431
“Turns out not all of the aliens are here by their own will.” You explain to the operative.

“So we’ve been told. Conscripts. At least we know our species has a bit of moral high ground in the conflict.” The operative jokes, but you’re not entirely sure about that, considering the marines and no doubt some of your colleagues that you haven’t been informed about are silencing Black Mesa staff. As the operative continues, you hear Marietta click the door open. “Still don’t expect us to go out of our way to cuff the things and unshackle them. It’s not worth a ray-gun.”

“Understood.” Is all you say. You doubt you’d be able to convince him otherwise. As Marietta peaks through the doors, you start to hear the sound of distant bombs dropping. “However, I’ve already got a few on my side. If you see any of them without collars around their necks, they’re friendly.”

“Hell of a job then.” The operative responds. As he talks, you have to clip your radio to your vest and pull a balaclava over your head. Marietta is signalling you to move forward.

With a quieter voice now that you’re in the open, you explain, “One of them is right in the infirmary. The staff was studying it. Inform your men not to attack.”

“Affirmative.” The operative responds, as your eyes adjust to looking out the window of the hospital’s ground level lobby. “Will that be all?” You don’t immediately respond, taking a second to look out ahead of you.

You see a truck full of marines pass by, while in the distance is a continuous sound of gunfire. Looking over the road, you see a group of six marines at the hospital helipad. It’s no major checkpoint, but as far as the military’s aware, this osprey is one of their own. They’re simply on point in order to keep the landing zone clear of incoming aliens. With their position however, practically staring down the exit to the infirmary, you wouldn’t be able to sneak past, especially given that you’d be doing it in broad daylight.

You could always go in, with the tried and true method of shooting them. You have the drop on them. From the other side of the road, your shotguns would be less effective, but your rifle will be better off.
(cont.)

>>4324831
(cont.)
The marines might also think that you and Marietta are one of them, considering you’re in military gear. Calling yourself Spec Ops could keep your cover, and if worst comes to worst, you could show them your credentials. They probably won’t say no to the CIA, but you already know you have a trail. Of course, without completely blowing your cover, it would be hard to convince them to ignore the two civilians with you.

Finally, you could simply wait. The osprey will have a team of trained covert ops coming out of it, who could definitely help gun down the marines. Of course, allowing pilots or non-combatant CIA staff members to walk into gunfire could easily get you in hot water with your handler.

>Tell the operative to have the pilot hold up a minute, you need to talk down a group of marines up ahead. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 13.)
>Tell the sergeant that the pilot needs to delay the landing while you deal with some marines. (Roll 3d6+2, and pick a weapon. Every point over 10 adds a +1 to the first shot.)
>Warn the operative that he’ll have to help you deal with a squad of marines standing around the LZ.
>Write in. (Feel free to pick from any of the previous options if you want to request the operative do anything else.)

>>4324834
>Tell the operative to have the pilot hold up a minute, you need to talk down a group of marines up ahead. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 13.)
But before we actually talk to the marines, I think it's important that we:
>Make sure everyone in the group is on the same page about the cover story we'll be telling the Marines. We need to support each other in this persuasion.

>>4324865
This

>>4324865
>>4325054
“You’re gonna need to tell the pilot to delay his landing for a moment, Ruppelt.” You command the operative. “There are marines stationed close to the LZ.”

“What for? Have they spotted you?” The operative asks, before he suddenly pulls away from the receiver, shouting over the sound of heavy rotors. “Hey, hold the landing!” He shouts to a distant pilot.

A female voice talks back, with all the background noise you can’t make a word.

“You don’t need to know!” The operative responds. Quieter now, he returns to the receiver. “What’s happening with them?”


“They haven’t spotted us, and I doubt they know anything. They probably think you’re just another incoming flight. I’m gonna try talking them into leaving you alone when you land.”

“Affirmative, I’ll shut down the receiver while you do.” He responds, before you hear a short sound of static, and then the line goes silent. He can hear you, but you can’t hear him.

You turn to Marietta and Guttman, explaining, “Six soldiers outside, do you see them?”

“No, because they’re wearing green camouflage in the desert.” Guttman whispers quickly.

“Noise discipline.” Marietta responds quietly, as cracks of gunfire start to play distantly. “Not the time. But we’re not getting past them with ”

“I’d prefer to do this without a body trail.” You explain. “What’s our story? I wanna try talking them down.”

Dr. Breen quietly intejects. “If these men could be convinced to partake in a government cover up, I could only assume they’d be regularly subjected to obfuscation.”

The reasoning checks out, and it's true that special forces would be trained not to ask questions like an intelligence operative would. Keeping your story vague, and pulling threats of punishment if they ask too many questions would seem rather usual to them. On the other hand, you being a somewhat small woman in appearance might make pure intimidation difficult.

“Not a bad idea. Marietta and I will go up, and claim we’re special forces. Don’t disclose details or ranks. If they refuse, or stat asking questions, start threatening to take this to higher command.” You take a second to look down to the silent radio on your chest. “Ruppelt if you’re listening, I might need you to back me up as a SOCOM officer. If I start talking about superiors, turn the line back on and I’ll have you start asking about their superiors.”

The receiver briefly switches back on, for the operative to say “Understood.”

Nodding to each-other, you and Marietta start stepping out behind cover, immediately signalling yourselves as friendlies to the marines. You leave Guttman and Breen behind cover, knowing that their civilian appearance will likely lead to them being shot.

Four players roll a 1d6. The top three rolls will be added into a 3d6+2.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4325398
Being QM is suffering, Laz.
From /qtg/, with love.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4325398

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4325398

>>4325398
It's already past the 45 minute mark, and I just got finished a game, so I don't see the harm in rolling one last time.

>>4325454
>>4325462
>>4325466
this is definitely a pass

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4325398
Fourth roll because whynot

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>>4325454
>>4325466
>>4325483
Thanks Satan

>>4325454
>>4325462
>>4325466
>>4325470
>>4325483
As the two of you step out, your first expectations are that you both will be asked to identify yourselves. The marines clearly see you, stiffening keeping their hands on their weapons, but don’t ask anything. They just watch as the two of you approach, tracking you with the eyes of their gas-masks. As you cross the street, feeling more and more uneasy about their silence, you hear one of them, in a beret exclaim “Ma’am!” His tone however is questioning, clearly nervous.

“Sergeant?” You respond, watching the soldier nod negatively.

“No ma’am, just got ordered to guard right here, keep the LZ clear in case we need it. .” He doesn’t sound very convincing. He’s clearly lying, however there’s no malice, or suspicion in his tone, just fear. This soldier wasn’t told to guard the helipad.

Marietta taps you on the arm, and whispers the word “Skating.” You’re in luck, these soldiers aren’t here to guard anything. They’re here to avoid their officers. Morale is down the toilet, and they simply intend to stay alive by not getting ordered into a gun-fight.

“Ma’am I don’t mean to pry, but can I ask about your role here?” The soldier says as he glances up and down Marietta’s body. “You are marines right?” Behind the lead soldier, one of them whispers something you can’t hear under the sound of bombing.

“We’re with SOCOM.” You briefly respond. “There’s an incoming flight in a few minutes, we intend to greet it.” At first, you thought you would’ve had to have made a rather difficult decision in how to go about letting two civilians they were ordered to kill through the helipad, but now you realize you have them cornered. “You’re gonna need to let us through, or I’m going to chat with you commanding officer. I’ve got mission critical civilians that we need to interrogate before silencing.” Obviously, you don’t intend to actually silence Dr. Breen or Dr. Guttman, but it makes it more believable.

“Oh, of course ma’am.” The soldier says as he steps to the side. As you peer around them, you notice a deck of cars under the stairs. These marines were only standing up because of the truck that passed by. They’ll probably do what you want to avoid trouble.

You got really lucky here. These marines aren’t here to guard anything, they’re just skating their responsibilities.

>Just tell them to get out of here, don’t have them seeing anything more than they have to.
>Tell them to make themselves useful. When “special forces” lands in a few minutes, help them out, make it move a little quicker.
>Push your luck a little further, they’re already scared of you, try convincing them to go retrieve the supply drop from wherever it lands. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 15.)
>Write in.

>>4325454
I probably get more anxious than I realistically should.
>>4325470
Yeah that's fine. What game?
>>4325483
You beautiful bastard.

>>4325532
>Tell them to make themselves useful. When “special forces” lands in a few minutes, help them out, make it move a little quicker.

>>4325538
Fallout. Setting was in post apoc Nevada. I was a Not Retarded Super mutant.

>>4325532
>Tell them to make themselves useful. When “special forces” lands in a few minutes, help them out, make it move a little quicker.

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>>4325546
>>4325803
https://youtu.be/7N19q6C64hQ
Sorry for the delay on this one.
“I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really care if you wanna dodge your officers.” You say to the group of soldiers. One of the men in the back lets out a slight sigh of relief, and a few eyes dart to their cards. You’d imagine on the surface, where at any moment a seven foot tall alien could pop into existence, putting down one's guns for a deck of cards isn’t a bright idea. However, it seems many of these men are quickly losing respect for any protocols or superiors. When that happens, more marines die from refusing direction, and morale spirals downwards until the force is routed. “However you should still make yourselves useful, otherwise I’ll be calling up your superiors.”

“Yes ma’am.” The marine responds without question. You lucked out finding these marines in particular. Simply trying to avoid getting reported, they’ll do simple things you ask. “What’ll it be?” The front soldier asks.

“I already told you about the special ops team, help them unload when they arrive, and do whatever they ask.” You explain. “Don’t ask any questions either, all of this is above your clearance, understand?”

“Got it.” The marine cracks back.

Seeing the general compliance of the six marines, you take a step back, satisfied at how easy it all turned out to be. Whispering into your radio, you tell Ruppelt team, “Alright, you’re good to move in. Heisenberg can also drop his package.”

“Understood, relaying it now.” You hear, before the receiver goes silent. Descending from high up above even the battle of alien manta-ray like creatures and american fighter jets, you see an Osprey from his holding pattern start to rapidly descend. Among all of that, a small black dot high in the sky lets loose another object, before rapidly zipping off. Your radio clicks a call from Heisenberg, explaining “Your package is loose Oppenheimer, you gotta catch it.”

You quickly respond, “Understood.” As you track the two falling objects. The osprey’s landing was registered as one of the marine’s own aircrafts, but the air-drop will no doubt be investigated by the marines. The parachuting crate will likely land before the osprey as it’s parachutes are set to deploy as to not get shot apart by anti-air in its descent, but will also be blown around by the wind and chaos troubling the sky.

>Try and track the air-drop before it lands. If you’re successful, you might get to it before anyone else, if you fail, you might end up slowing yourself down. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 13+. Critically fail below an 8.)
>Just keep it simple, and wait here until the air drop touches down, then head out.
>Make sure nothing funny happens with the osprey. Things should be quick with extra manpower, so you might be able to wait for them to take back off before tracking down your supplies.

>>4325970
I'm gonna try to start moving quicker with this stuff, since it's more exploration and combat at the moment.

>>4325970
>Try and track the air-drop before it lands. If you’re successful, you might get to it before anyone else, if you fail, you might end up slowing yourself down. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 13+. Critically fail below an 8.)
Finally free to join the quest live

>>4325970
>Try and track the air-drop before it lands. If you’re successful, you might get to it before anyone else, if you fail, you might end up slowing yourself down. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 13+. Critically fail below an 8.)

Rolled 2 (1d3)

>>4325991
Glad to have you.
>>4326000
You watch the falling crate pass through the air, as the wake of aircraft and heavy, elevated winds start to pull it in different directions. As it turns, the aerodynamics of the crate makes it direction hard to read with only goggles designed for ballistics assistance, however they do provide you with necessary rangefinding equipment built into the system.

As you get a basic idea of the movement, Guttman and Breen leave the safety of the hospital. As they cross the dirt road, you call out to the civilians, "Breen, stay with the marines here, they'll keep you safe." You quickly call out to the slacking soldiers, "This civilian is mission critical, understand?"

The lead soldier nods, and says "Yes ma'am."

"Alright." You take one last, quick look to the sky, before saying "Come with me!" To Marietta and Guttman, hoping to reach the crate before it lands.

As you jog off towards the buildings, one of the marines asks, "The hell are they running to?"

Four players roll a 1d6. The top three rolls will be added into a 3d6+2.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4326070

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4326070
Nice
FUCK YOU :)

>>4326081
>>4326084
Just like that, we pass.
With a minimum third roll of 1, the result is 11+2=13
Good work, broseph!

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>>4326084
>FUCK YOU :)

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4326070
Rollan anyway!

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>>4326116

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4326070

>>4326081
>>4326084
>>4326117
>>4326220
As you move through Black Mesa, sticking to side paths, and staying out of the roads that wind through the facility, you keep an eye on the blindingly bright desert sky. The sun causes the migraine to kick against you, but you keep yourself focused.

As you move through, you use the distant sounds of gunfire and combat to your advantage, keeping the groups heads low as you weave through the booms and stomps. While you’re efficient as you can get, it’s still an arduously slow process while trying not to get caught. With only a single, small building between you and the helipad, the box is already halfway to the ground. The constant patrols of marines forces you all to stop in your tracks and hide away.

With careful planning however, and watchful prediction, you manage to get rather close when the parachute pulls open, dragging the crate against the hot New Mexico air. The crate slowly falls, pulling to the south as it does. In the direction it's headed, you see that it will land in Black Mesa’s school they keep for the staff’s children. The facility isn’t particularly large, due to how few staff actually have their kids on the base, and it’s of no tactical value. The outside of the place, a little playground, is currently claimed as the territory of a group of three bullsquids, watching over a still building. With the military still trying to rack their heads around the surprising airdrop, currently drifting over the roof of the school, none of them have come to clear the place out before investigating.

>Don’t even bother with the grunt, have the group stay here and watch, while you try to climb up to the roof. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 15.)
>Get in close, pick a weapon, and get ready to take the alien’s out. (Roll 3d6 for each party member, every point over an 11 adds a +1 to the first shot.)
>You don’t have time to deal with these. Have Marietta lob a grenade into the group. (Each bullsquid will have to roll for surprise, and then they will have to roll to avoid. If a bullsquid rolls a 12, it partially avoids. If it rolls a 16, it totally avoids.)
>Have your compatriots engage the bullsquids, while you use the distraction to sneak into the school and to the roof. Multi-tasking would make it quicker. (Roll 3d6 for Guttman and Marietta, getting a +1 to the first shot for every point over 11.)
>Write in.

>>4326247
The choices mention a Grunt, but the description of the scene doesn't. Only Bullsquids are mentioned.
>You don’t have time to deal with these. Have Marietta lob a grenade into the group. (Each bullsquid will have to roll for surprise, and then they will have to roll to avoid. If a bullsquid rolls a 12, it partially avoids. If it rolls a 16, it totally avoids.)
Just one more explosion in the non-stop cacophony isn't too suspicious.

>>4326278
I apologize. I lost track while editing back through it. That's my bad.

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>>4326247
THE BEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS
Just spam bees from really far away, and give our gal pal the super suppressed pistol for when they get too close.
>line up a shot with BEEEEEESS fro greater BEEEEEEE accuracy.

>>4326247
Back once again.
Something nice about the QM here :)

>>4326247
>Don’t even bother with the grunt, have the group stay here and watch, while you try to climb up to the roof. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 15.)

>>4326247
>Have your compatriots engage the bullsquids, while you use the distraction to sneak into the school and to the roof. Multi-tasking would make it quicker. (Roll 3d6 for Guttman and Marietta, getting a +1 to the first shot for every point over 11.)
OP, can we have them use their first turn to line up their shots and reduce the hit threshold?

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>4327185
That's pretty much what they'll be doing in the ambush roll:
>(Roll 3d6 for Guttman and Marietta, getting a +1 to the first shot for every point over 11.)
Just a combination of sneaking in for a better angle, and lining up shots.
Tiebreaker roll:
>>4326278(1)
>>4326304(2)
>>4326418(3)
>>4327185(4)

>>4326278
>>4326304
>>4326418
>>4327185
>>4327270
Hoping to deal with the entire problem in one quick strike, you direct your team into the old playground. Quietly positioning yourselves strategically, you all approach to the point you feel it wouldn't be possible to get closer, from where you pick a weapon of your choice, and begin lining up the shots.

As you approach, the creatures make low snarling noises. In the center of the playground lies the dead body of a hound-eye, carcass torn up and feasted on. Defensive of their game, the creatures attempt to intimidate every noise they hear, fearing competition. Often times, they're simply staring down an imagined threat, not understanding the difference between a beastly roar, and a distant carpet bombing.

Four players roll 3d6. The first d6 is for Gabby, the second for Marietta, and the third is for Guttman.The top three of each will be taken, with Gabby's roll being added into a 3d6+2, Marietta's a 3d6+2, and Guttman's a 3d6+1. If the rolls are greater than an 11 for each, they will get an aiming bonus of +1 for every point over.

As well, if you have a preference, choose a weapon to start with. You can choose to hand over certain weapons to others.

(Since >>4326304 was pretty clear, Gabby will default to the hivehand if no one objects.)

(Gabby.)
>Glock. (Small, weak, but good for saving a bit of ammo.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>MK23 USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise. Built in aiming assistance provides a bonus.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Rifle(Powerful, but unwieldy while close and very loud.)
(Guttman.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)
(Marietta.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

Rolled 1, 3, 6 = 10 (3d6)

>>4327293
Gabby
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
Guttman
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
Mari
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)

We can use the hivehand to draw their attention and wear them down a bit, then Guttman and Mari can hit them with the shotguns.

Rolled 4, 2, 5 = 11 (3d6)

>>4327293
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)

Even at the cost of ammo, this needs to be done as quickly as possible. Sound isn't the problem. Time is.

>>4327321
If time is such a sensitive issue then why don’t we just have Mari send an SMG grenade at all three of them?

Rolled 4, 1, 1 = 6 (3d6)

>>4327293
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)

>>4327327
Because god knows what we'll find at ground zero.

Also should probably have Marietta pass two grenades over

>>4327319
>>4327321
>>4327350
If anyone wants to roll again for one last, I'll try and get to writing.

Rolled 6, 1, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>4327406

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>>4327319
>>4327321
>>4327350
>>4327411
The three of you all creep in closer to the territorial aliens, keeping close watch as you all move to encompass, and flank. The creatures stay still, continuing to make disgusting sounds of grunting and snorting. Hoping to finish this as quickly as possible while saving your resources, you pull out your hivehand, while the other two take aim with their combat shotguns.

(Gabby)

(You currently have 75/100 health, and 20/50 armor power, and 22/50 cloak power)

>Throw a grenade at the bullsquids.(Specify between Frags(1), damage or wounds, concussion(1), stuns or incapacitates, flashbang(3), stuns or reduces aim, all vortigaunts will have to roll to avoid, taking the major effects below an 11, taking lesser effects below a 14. Avoiding grenades always cancels certain actions.)

>Fire at the first, second, or third bullsquid.(3d6+7, every point wounds, kills on a 17. -3/8 ammo, 1 ammo regenerates every turn. If you have a preference, please specify.)

>Cloak(+4 defense +2 stealth, -3 Cloak power per turn.)
>Pop smoke. (-1/3 smoke grenades. +3 to defense, +3 to stealth.)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-½ medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Glock. (Small, weak, but good for saving a bit of ammo.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>MK23 USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise. Built in aiming assistance provides a bonus.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Rifle(Powerful, but unwieldy while close and very loud.)
(cont.)

>>4327455
(cont.)
(Mari)

(73/100 health. 50/50 armor power, and 38/50 cloak power.)

>Throw a grenade at the Bullsquids.(Specify between Frags(2), damage or wounds, concussion(2, stuns or incapacitates, flashbang(4), stuns or reduces aim, all vortigaunts will have to roll to avoid, taking the major effects below an 11, taking lesser effects below a 14. Avoiding grenades always cancels certain actions.)

>Fire at the first, second, or third bullsquid. (3d6+2, Every point above a 3 wounds. kills on a 14. -1/8+8 ammo. )
>Fire twice at the first bullsquid. (3d6-+2, Every point above a 3 wounds twice. kills on a 12. -1/8+8 ammo.-3 aim on the next shot due to recoil. )

>Pop smoke. (+3 to defense, +3 to stealth. -1/4 smoke grenades.)
>Cloak(+4 defense +2 stealth, -3 Cloak power per turn.)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-1/2 medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

(Guttman)

(85/100 health, and 40/100armor power.)

>Fire at the first, second, or third bullsquid. (3d6+3, Every point above a 3 wounds. kills on a 14. -1/8+4 ammo. )
>Fire twice at the first bullsquid. (3d6-+3, Every point above a 3 wounds twice. kills on a 12. -1/8+4 ammo.-3 aim on the next shot due to recoil. )

>Use one of the groups medkits on an ally. (Can be done while performing other, non-shooting or attacking actions, and leaves the recipient of healing free to perform actions. -1/2 advanced medkits. Here, take this medkit!)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-1/2 medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

Rolled 6, 1, 2 = 9 (3d6)

>>4327457
(Gabby)
>Fire at the second bullsquid
(Mari)
>Fire twice at the first bullsquid
(Guttman)
>Fire at the second bullsquid

I haven't rolled for combat in this quest yet and since I can't really tell which modifiers to use, I'll just roll 3d6 if that's fine.

>>4327547
Modifiers are usually added on after the roll, because the roll is a sum of multiple player's rolls. The dice and modifiers are always written right in the start of the parenthesis, such as: (3d6+2, Every point above a 3 wounds. kills on a 14. -1/8+8 ammo.)

Sorry for the confusion pal.

>>4327547
Manipulating the hivehand, flicking small pressure points on the creature, you induce a spitting reflex as the creature fires off sets of small hornet like creatures, who fly with speed towards the second bullsquid.

At the same time, Marietta sets the Spas-12 to semi-automatic, lining up the creature in the rounded iron sights before double tapping the trigger.

Finally, Guttman sends another volley of buckshot out, targeting the same alien as you.

The two shotguns make a thundering sound, as they fire, causing the three aliens to isntantly jolt as rounds come barreling towards them.

Four players roll a 3d6. The first d6 is for Gabby, the second for Marietta, and the third for Guttman. The top three results will be added into a 3d6+7, and a 3d6+3 respectively. If rolling takes longer than forty-five minutes, feel free to roll twice.

Rolled 3, 5, 2 = 10 (3d6)

>>4327622
Either it's too early or too late for the usual crowd. What timezone are you in, Lazlo?

Rolled 1, 2, 5 = 8 (3d6)

>>4327622

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Rolled 6, 5, 3 = 14 (3d6)

>>4327622
>>4327622

Rolled 6, 1, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>4327622
Bang bang

>>4327622
Bullsquid 2 is looking really dead. Same for the other tea. Good work folks.

I wonder if the CIA will want us to capture some of these things alive. It could probably be done, but we'd need some cages and heavy anesthetics. The houndeyes would be of little issue, same with the head crabs. It's the bullsquids which would be the hardest due to their acid spit.

Rolled 1, 6, 2 = 9 (3d6)

>>4327642
EST
>>4327647
>>4327657
>>4327662
>>4327679

The series of alien insects spat out of the creature quickly leave the hivehand with an eagerness you haven't seen before. Having had plenty of time to approach, and give your alien weapon acquaintance with the predator in your path, the hornets track and burrow into the bullsquid without remorse, viciously tearing into its skull. As though the second bullsquids day wasn't bad enough, Guttman adds in with a blast of 12-gauge ammuniition, killing the creature swiftly, rather than it being burrowed slowly into.

Meanwhile, two quick shots of buckshot send Marietta's gun barrel rearing up, but the rounds still connect. The force of two rounds worth of pellets pummeling the alien one after another tears a large chunk of scales off the creatures side. It groans out in pain, wiggling its tentacle like apendages as it screams, all while falling to the ground.

In response to the sound of its allies being blasted open by you and your compatriots, the creature quickly flicks around, staring at Marietta. Within its mouth, it gathers a large mass of otherworldly spit, before flinging it at her.

The bullsquid hits on a 14, and does 12 damage.

(Gabby)

(You currently have 75/100 health, and 20/50 armor power, and 22/50 cloak power)

>Throw a grenade at the bullsquids.(Specify between Frags(1), damage or wounds, concussion(1), stuns or incapacitates, flashbang(3), stuns or reduces aim, all vortigaunts will have to roll to avoid, taking the major effects below an 11, taking lesser effects below a 14. Avoiding grenades always cancels certain actions.)

>Fire at the third bullsquid.(3d6+7, every point wounds, kills on a 17. -3/5 ammo, 1 ammo regenerates every turn. If you have a preference, please specify.)
>Kick the third bullsquid. (Roll 3d6+2, stuns on a 14, Kills on a 16, every point over an 8 reduces the threshold of the next attack. It will get an easy attack on you.)

>Cloak(+4 defense +2 stealth, -3 Cloak power per turn.)
>Pop smoke. (-1/3 smoke grenades. +3 to defense, +3 to stealth.)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-½ medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Glock. (Small, weak, but good for saving a bit of ammo.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>MK23 USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise. Built in aiming assistance provides a bonus.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Rifle(Powerful, but unwieldy while close and very loud.)
(cont.)

>>4327727
(cont.)
(Mari)

(73/100 health. 50/50 armor power, and 38/50 cloak power.)

>Throw a grenade at the Bullsquids.(Specify between Frags(2), damage or wounds, concussion(2, stuns or incapacitates, flashbang(4), stuns or reduces aim, all vortigaunts will have to roll to avoid, taking the major effects below an 11, taking lesser effects below a 14. Avoiding grenades always cancels certain actions.)

>Fire at the third bullsquid. (3d6+2, Every point above a 3 wounds. kills on a 14. -1/6+8 ammo. )
>Fire twice at the third bullsquid. (3d6-+2, Every point above a 3 wounds twice. kills on a 12. -2/6+8 ammo.-3 aim on the next shot due to recoil. )
>Kick the third bullsquid. (Roll 3d6+1, stuns on a 14, Kills on a 16, every point over an 8 reduces the threshold of the next attack. It will get an easy attack on you.)

>Pop smoke. (+3 to defense, +3 to stealth. -1/4 smoke grenades.)
>Cloak(+4 defense +2 stealth, -3 Cloak power per turn.)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-1/2 medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

(Guttman)

(85/100 health, and 40/100armor power.)

>Fire at the first, second, or third bullsquid. (3d6+3, Every point above a 3 wounds. kills on a 14. -1/7+4 ammo. )
>Fire twice at the first bullsquid. (3d6-+3, Every point above a 3 wounds twice. kills on a 12. -2/7+4 ammo.-3 aim on the next shot due to recoil. )

>Use one of the groups medkits on an ally. (Can be done while performing other, non-shooting or attacking actions, and leaves the recipient of healing free to perform actions. -1/2 advanced medkits. Here, take this medkit!)
>Use a medkit on oneself. (-1/2 medkits, +15 health.)

(Changing weapons can be done any turn, and while performing any action that does not require both hands.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

>>4327727
Gabby
>Fire at the third bullsquid.

Marietta & Guttman
If the third is still alive, shoot it.
Is there only one left now?

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I just realized I forgot to remove the ambush bonuses, apologies for any confusion.
>>4327755
The bullsquids torrent of acidic spit flings past Marietta, not even coming close enough for her to bother dodging away.

The three of you all divert your aim, firing at the final remaining alien one after the other. You quickly continue to entice your hive-hand into producing more hornets to attack the creature, while Marietta wrestles control over her shotgun, as the recoil kicks like a mule into her shoulder. Guttman, slowing his rate of fire to keep a steady bead on the creature. Given the relative safety of finishing off one remaining alien, the group waits for one before them to shoot, as not to waste ammo.

Four players roll 3d6, for Gabby, Marietta, and Guttman respectively. The top three rolls of each will be added into a 3d6+2, 3d6-1, and a 3d6+1 respectively.

Rolled 6, 6, 6 = 18 (3d6)

>>4327832

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>>4327837
T H A N K S
S A T A N

Rolled 4, 5, 4 = 13 (3d6)

>>4327832
Well, nobody can top that one

Rolled 1, 2, 6 = 9 (3d6)

>>4327832
Just shoot the poor bastard already.

Rolled 1, 6, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>4327832

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>>4327837

>>4327837
>>4327842
>>4327886
>>4327917
>>4327837
>>4327842
>>4327886
>>4327917
>>4327963
Sorry for the delay.
The shots from your hive-hand glide directly into the bullsquid, causing it to yowl in agony as they dig in. The hornets stick themselves in with force, and their jagged stingers inject painful venom. With a neurosurgeon's precision applied to a 12-gauge military shotgun, Guttman finally finishes the wounded beast with a round from his shotgun. The pellets slam directly into the creature's face, causing its legs to fail in an instant.

"Buckshot really changes a man." Guttman says, tapping his shotgun as the group starts to move forward.

As you get closer to the door, you hear Marietta say “For better or for worse.”

“Depends on where it’s pointed.” Guttman cracks back.

The three of you quickly enter the small schoolhouse, feeling a wave of humidity hit you as you open the door. Some of the old water fountains, placed to keep the children of the science team safe from the effects of dehydration in the hot New Mexico summers, have burst open. Water leaked out onto the floor, then evaporated into the air. Now Xen Flora is greedily sucking it up as it grows into the bricks and dry-wall. Occasionally, the bodies of teleported wildlife, janitorial, staff, or even a whole grunt is left in the hall-way. In only the span of a day however, the alien fungi has greedily encroached on these bodies, not only coating them with spores, but digging into them with mycelium.

You’ve seen some terrible things in your life, and can control your emotions at the best of times. That doesn’t stop you from being incredibly relieved at the fact that class was out during the incident.

As you move, you can clearly hear the sounds of different wildlife creatures making their territory. However, they’ve claimed classrooms, not covering the main pathways that you need to travel through. Moving with light footsteps, and keeping a distance between you and the doors, you manage to make it to roof access with little trouble.

Climbing up through the small hatch, your migraine seers with a passion as the light hits your eyes. You feel dizzy, only for a second, before you climb up and onto the roof. On the rather empty space is nothing but air conditioners, and a large container draped in a parachute. Working quickly, the three of you pull off the parachute, and open up the metal and polymer crate underneath.
(cont.)

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>>4328046
(cont.)
Compared to the parachute it rode down on, the box is incredibly small, saving as much mass as possible. Taking up most of the space is three sets of CIA grade hazmat gear. While, unlike your own suit, it won’t turn invisible, it won’t glow bright yellow like traditional gear. The deep black keeps you safe, but you don’t doubt that the weight will come as a constriction when attempting to kick or climb. A part of you thinks they gave you three because the CIA intends for you to go alongside Marietta and Reilly, but at the end of the day, who you bring into the test chamber is your own decision.

Packed in the suits are the assortments of radiation-poisoning medication you requested, Potassium iodide, Prussian blue, Diethylenetriamine pentaacetic acid.

Alongside the suits are a collection of assort of grenades, six of every type in your purview that you split equally, and slipping into the last chunk of space you have, an extra two clips of rubber bullets, and a box of ten .50 rounds. Finally, packed right into the corner is a bottle of various Benzodiazepines, including diazepam, that you take for yourself.

(CIA Hazmat suits protect you from radiation, but give no agility bonus, and cannot cloak with only 50 armor power. Five doses of radiation medications are available to heal after exposure to extreme radioactive content, such as directly touching glowing material. Taking Diazepam before a migraine check will boost your migraine by +4, but will reduce agility by -2 and shooting by -3. 10 available doses in the bottle.)

As Guttman looks over the advanced hazmat suit, he mutters “I’m gonna start paying my taxes more when all this is over.”
(cont.)

>>4328079
(cont.)
You’ve got your gear, how do you want to get back to the infirmary. You had a good head-start throughout, but the military is likely going to start closing in on this position pretty soon.

>You’ve got your gear, it’s time to move. It’s not high down to the ground from the roof, have the party jump down, and run straight back to the infirmary.
>Move quickly, but erratically, try and make sure nobody is able to track you to the infirmary.
>Take your time heading back, you have a head start, look out over the edges of the roof then cautiously make your way out.
>Try calling up the ISA helicopter. With the marines helping they’re likely unpacked by now, see if the helicopter pilot can help out and create some confusion.
>Write in.
Optionally, as you plan your route back through the marines, you could simultaneously respond to Guttman.
>That’s assuming the united will still be a thing when all of this is done. The more this goes on, the less you’re sure about that prediction.
>Tell the neurologist not to worry about taxes, you’re gonna make sure witness protection places him with a new name in a sunny archipelago when all this is over.
>”Your opinion of military spending changes when you get to turn invisible.”
>Tell Guttman not to forget that that same defense spending is also being shot at him.
>Write in.

>>4328082
>Move quickly, but erratically, try and make sure nobody is able to track you to the infirmary.
>That’s assuming the united will still be a thing when all of this is done. The more this goes on, the less you’re sure about that prediction.

>>4328082
>Tell the neurologist not to worry about taxes, you’re gonna make sure witness protection places him with a new name in a sunny archipelago when all this is over.

>Take your time heading back, you have a head start, look out over the edges of the roof then cautiously make your way out.

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>>4327963

>>4328164
Is that a cannon?

If there's still a tie tomorrow morning, then I'll run a tiebreaker roll. If it breaks before I go to bed, I'll try squeezing in another update. Tiebreaker rolls always feel like robbing you guys of the decisions.
>>4328206
It was a Simpsons gag about revolver attachments. It got increasingly absurd until there was one big barrel attachment that could shoot down helicopters. Thought it was appropriate with how good those shooting rolls were.

>>4328082
>Take your time heading back, you have a head start, look out over the edges of the roof then cautiously make your way out.
They're just jarheads, they probably won't track us
>That’s assuming the united will still be a thing when all of this is done. The more this goes on, the less you’re sure about that prediction.
I don't think xenos accept payment in dollars.
The irony of tax dollars being spent to shoot at someone who is spending te same tax dollars to shoot back should not be lost on us.

>>4328079
>Take your time heading back, you have a head start, look out over the edges of the roof then cautiously make your way out.
>”Your opinion of military spending changes when you get to turn invisible.”

>>4328095
>>4328151
>>4328314
>>4328349
Apolgies for any jankiness here, I had to write part of it on my phone. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
“I don’t really know if the United States is gonna be around after all of this.” You say, before commanding, “Alright, we’ve got a head start in coming here, so let’s push that advantage. Take some time to become aware of the situation. Check over the roofs, and look for activity, it’ll probably won’t take long for them to get here, so let’s find a path behind them.”

Guttman nods, and Marietta just responds “Affirmative.” As she talks, she continues on, saying, “I hate to say it but no matter what you’re at least partially right. It’s pretty unrealistic to say that all of this will just be redacted from the history books. Even if we do manage to save the world, it won’t be the same for much longer.”

“God the ufologists are gonna have a field day.” Guttman shouts. “I wouldn’t be surprised though if the white house just starts vaporizing everything. Clear it out with the nuclear option and blame it on a political group or country nobody cares about.” His tone indicates clearly that he doesn’t actually know about the nuclear plan, however, it’s not a far fetched theory. This is just his own speculation, and telling him to shut up about it would only make him more curious.

“There’s no guarantee if that’ll work. We barely have a clue what’s behind the portal. For all we know, if we blow up Black Mesa something they’ll just send their inexhaustible reserves through the crater.” You say, as you look out over the warzone that is Black Mesa. Many of the marines are occupied in direct conflict, thankfully leaving a smaller fighting force than is truly available to the military to investigate your mysterious parachute. Namely teams of scouts are moving in from multiple directions, probably sent by their individual platoon leaders. A team of six comes from the direction of the infirmary, furthest are a group of eight currently looping around the old warehouses, and four are coming up quickly, approaching the playground. You pause your conversation as you become aware of the situation.
(cont.)

>>4328482
(cont.)
>Pull out your sniper rifle, and start taking shots at the encroaching scout team. (Roll 3d6+2, every point above a 10 adds +1 to the first shot. The marines will need to take two turns of moving up to enter the school, but will often choose to stay in cover.)
>Have the team retreat back into the school, and ambush them in the hallways, among the Xen wildlife.
>Quickly drop off the roof, and get away from the closest team of four, then start considering your options to deal with the team of six. (Roll 3d6+2(you) 3d6+2(Mari), and 3d6(Guttman) for each party member, avoid the team of four without any detection on a 13+)
>Start throwing up friendly hand signals, and try to convince them you’re on their side. Of course, this means that even more marines will have sighted you, and these scouts seem to have poor trigger discipline. (Roll 3d6+2, pass on a 16)
>Write in any clever ideas.

>>4328483
>Radio Ruppelt's team, have them lift the military's frequencies off the skating soldiers and order the scouts to investigate a different area. Maybe something interesting they may have seen while they were inbound?
>Have everyone find a good hiding spot in case the above fails; with luck, the scouts will go past everyone and leave you free to move on.

I like having contingencies in place in case one thing fails.

>>4328551
this.
+A for creativity.

>>4328551
>>4328730
Things might seem a little slow today.
The last thing you want to do is paint yourself as a target for larger, more deadly military units. Tearing apart the department of defense’s light units might justify heavier arms being sent your way. With enough attention painted to yourself already, you want to deal with this situation as cleanly as possible.

“Everyone back downstairs.” You say, watching the marines approach. “Find a spot to stay quiet, and hide.”

The other two nod, and the three of you start making your way down the hatch. As you do, you flick your radio back on, thankfully already set to speak with Ruppelt team. “Ruppelt?” You ask, without any knowledge of their sergeants specific codename, you simply refer to him by squad name.

It takes a second to respond. When his receiver clicks on, you can hear the sound of nervous medical staff being shuffled through the facility. “Oppenheimer? What’s happening?”

“I’ve made it to the supply drop.” You explain, keeping it short as possible. “There are marines coming in around me, I need a diversion. Are those slacking marines still nearby? Could you ask them for platoon frequencies?”

“Yeah.” The operative states before pulling away from the microphone. “You!” He shouts to another agent distant in the infirmary. “Head outside, have a chat with the marines, get their platoon’s intelligence frequency.”

“Affirmative.” A distant voice responds.

“You want me to talk them off of you?” He asks, to keep objectives clear.

“Yes.” You respond. “Just long enough to slip back into the infirmary. “I’m stuck in the school building.” As you say this, you peak through doors to find one free of zombified humans or xenian wildlife.

“Alright.” He says before pulling away again. “You! ISA, you're with oppenheimer right?”

“Suppose so.” The voice of Kirchoff responds.

“She and her team are stuck north of here, old school building. Marines coming in around. I’m gonna have a frequency for you to call in a few minutes, think of a story to reroute them.”

“Fine enough.” Kirchoff responds. A minute of nervous radio silence passes before you hear the receiver click back on to the sound of an agent relaying radio frequencies.

“Got it.” Kirchoff says, as he clicks on his radio, with the volume loud enough for Ruppelt team’s comms to pick up. Being already in the ISA, Kirchoff relaying a message makes it far more believable than anything even Black Ops could draw up. “Ogilvy platoon, this is Stephenson with the ISA. You reading?” That’s the same fake codename he tried to give you
(cont.)

>>4329117
(cont.)
One of the scout sergeants, a smaller but still firm voice, responds. “We hear you Stephenson. This is Elphinstone. What’s going on?”

Kirchoff calmly responds. “I watched the parachute you’re tracking come down through my rifle. There’s nothing attached. It seems like bait, or a diversion.”

“Well then we’ll watch for an ambush. We’ll confirm there’s nothing up there when we’re done, don’t you worry.”

“Negative Elphinstone. The proving grounds nearby have reports of a civilian in a blue suit, and suitcase. We want you to check him out, possible ties to Freeman.”

The sergeant sighs, sounding dejected at the idea of tracking Freeman once again. “Look Stephenson, I’ll tell the squads behind me to check out the proving grounds, but I’m already approaching the school entrance. We’re only four men, so you won’t be losing much if we don’t find anything. Out.”

The marine’s comms go silent before Kirchoff can respond. “Shit.” He mutters. “Well, I got the reserves off her, and that’s probably the best you can get. I can only inform, I can’t command.”

The operative says thank you, then asks, “You hear that Oppenheimer?”

“Affirmative.” You respond. Out of noise discipline, you say nothing else, but remark in your head that Krichoff has probably made up for the bullet he put in your leg.

The larger squads will be leaving you alone for now, but that close, smaller squad of four marines is currently still entering the building. You don’t have time to return to the roof before they enter the door.

>Ambush the marines as they enter. Kill them off quickly and quietly as you can, then leave. (Roll 3d6 for each party member, with applicable bonuses. Every point above a 10 adds +1 to the first shot.)
>Try quickly sneaking out of back entrances, without being spotted. With the small scout squad close, it may be difficult, but it’ll be far less punishing now that you only have to worry about four. (Roll 3d6+2, avoid detection on a 15.)
>Dig in deeper and try to wait the scouts out. It will avoid conflict, but it will take a long time.
>Write in a clever solution.

>>4329122
Pull the fire alarm. Have the fauna and flora distract the marines. We'll probably have to deal with the same problem.

>>4329129
Slipping out would be relatively easy between the water, flashing lights, the sound, and chaos...

That is, assuming that the fire alarm doesn't use a halon suppression system and suffocates us all. Then again, this isn't a lab.

>>4329158
As an addendum, it will also result in everyone else approaching the area. Getting out of the building may be easy, escaping the area outside may be different.

If we could find a headcrab and tie it to a fire alarm that'd be pretty swell. Or some other form of delay.

>>4329158
Something tells me that putting a halon suppression system within a school would have a lot of angry parents kicking down Breen's door. Speaking of kids, holy fuck. Where. Are. All. The. Kids for fucks sake. We were at the appartments a few hours ago. Were there more, or are all the kids sans Alyx dead?

>>4329180
This anon raises a good point.
I vote for checking for any surviving kids.

>>4329220
I guess it cant hurt to check? Gabby mention school was out before shit hit the fan. We'd have to be really lucky to find any kids.

>>4329122
>Ambush the marines as they enter. Kill them off quickly and quietly as you can, then leave. (Roll 3d6 for each party member, with applicable bonuses. Every point above a 10 adds +1 to the first shot.)

>>4329129
>>4329180
>>4329220
>>4329266
If you guys wanna search for survivors then you certainly can, but I'd still need to know how you want to deal with the marines at the same time, or first. You could obviously kill them. You could try working around them by sneaking around them as they search, but that would make searching pretty difficult. It might be made easier by pulling the fire alarm. You could also fall back on the old, "CIA business, nothing to see here, back away" trick to get them to leave, but that reveals CIA presence further.

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>>4329393
Pull the alarms, then go searching for civies. We can give Guttman one of our suppressed pistols.

>>4329426
We COULD hide, leave a child somewhere the marines could see them, and cap a marine if he so much as lifts his gun.

>>4329122
>Ambush the marines as they enter. Kill them off quickly and quietly as you can, then leave. (Roll 3d6 for each party member, with applicable bonuses. Every point above a 10 adds +1 to the first shot.)

>>4329520
And if all four raise their guns at once? Or we fail our roll and miss? It’s too dangerous for the kid.

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4329282
>>4329591
(1)
>>4329426
>>4329520
(2)
Sorry for the delay, work is just starting to open back up again.
Tiebreaker roll: 1 means that you get straight to sneaking around looking for survivors after pulling the fire alarm, 2 means you ambush the marines, then will be given an option to leave or search for survivors once combat is over.

>>4329520
>>4329591
Also that's probably two or three war crimes.

>>4329718
Correct. The use of children in any capacity on a battlefield constitutes several war crimes.
It’s fucking despicable that the world hasn’t wiped african warlords off the face of the earth for what they do.

>>4329129
>>4329158
>>4329160
>>4329180
>>4329220
>>4329266
>>4329282
>>4329282
>>4329426
>>4329520
>>4329591
>>4329718
"Alright, everyone keep your heads down until the marines arrive." You whisper to Marietta and Guttman, while poking your head out from the crack in classroom door. "We're gonna surprise them when they come close. When we're done, we should search for any survivors left in the school if we have time."

Guttman and Marietta both simply nod, before you try to reposition,

During this process, you hear one of the heavy front doors being pushed open, a quartet of boots walking through. One of them, not the voice you heard on the radio, lets out a heavy dejected breath, then asks, "Shit man. Do you think they had kids in here?"

"I don't want to know Levinson." Says the tired voice of the scout sergeant you heard on the radio. "This is a fucking mess."

"Huh." The marine named "Levinson." responds as the footsteps get closer. He's silent for a moment, probably thinking of a way to divert the conversation. "They said that guy in the proving ground was wearing a suit and tie. You think it's some men in black shit?"

"You mean like the movie?" The sergeant asks.

"Nah, like... ya know. Guys going into buildings but not coming out. Roswell, illuminati, all that crazy stuff."

"You're watching too much TV Levinson." The sergeant says, as through the window of your door, you see the scout team come around the corner.

Four players roll a 3d6, the first for Gabby, the second for Guttman, and the third for Marietta. The top three of each will be rolled into a 3d6+2, 3d6+2, and a 3d6+2 respectively. Every point over a 10 will give a +1 bonus to the first shot you take in combat. If you have a preference, choose weapons alongside your roll.

(Gabby.)
>Glock. (Small, weak, but good for saving a bit of ammo.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Hivehand. (Generally low stopping power, but low wound threshold, and infinite ammo.)
>MK23 USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise. Built in aiming assistance provides a bonus.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>Rifle(Powerful, but unwieldy while close and very loud.)
(Guttman.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have no grenades for.)
>Shotgun(Close range, reliable.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)
(Marietta.)
>Revolver. (High wound threshold, low kill threshold.)
>Shotgun(Reliable close range.)
>Grenade launcher. (Loud, and deadly towards armored targets.)
>SMG. (All around multitool, chews through ammo, includes a small grenade launcher that you have four grenades for.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)

>>4329769
Have Gabby pull the alarm, then she and Marietta will cloak once all the aliens are out. Gutttman will sit this one out in a closet.

Why are we killing marines again guys?

Rolled 5, 6, 5 = 16 (3d6)

>>4329769
>MK23 USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise. Built in aiming assistance provides a bonus.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)
>USP. (Stopping power lower than the revolver, but also makes no noise.)
No witnesses.

>>4329129
>>4329158
>>4329160
>>4329180
>>4329220
>>4329266
>>4329282
>>4329426
>>4329520
>>4329591
>>4329718
I made a mistake in writing the tiebreaker roll. In the description I wrote out, it states 1 is for sneaking around, and 2 is for ambush. However, in parenthesis I put the numbers in the post alongside them, and accidentally swapped them around. I already feel like tiebreaker rolls suck as it is, so I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to manipulate things. Please tell me if you're afraid of me manipulating the outcome. Apart of me feels I'm being way too anxious about it.

Rolled 5, 2, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>4330243
nah. things are fine as far as I'm concerned.
Should I make some rolls?

>>4330243
it's all cool for me, brother
i accept tiebreakers for what they are, necessary