Dead Pigeons Society:About
It's a hot summer day in the middle of the dusty town. The sweat beads on your forehead, mixing with the grime and turning to a disgusting mud. A blink, and you look at your nemesis, only 20 paces away. Ignoring the distracting sweat, your hand hovers over your six gun, waiting... waiting...
Your enemy twitches in the scorching heat. You're sure they're going to nail you before you can even clear leather, but you try anyway, steel whipping out and glistening in the bright sunshine. The sound of shots ring out, 1, 2, 4, 6... Your gun is empty, but you look over the barrel in satisfaction.
"That'll teach that pigeon to poop on my street."
Who are we?
Throughout the world, there are thousands of groups that sit down to roleplaying sessions, virtual and real alike, brow furrowed over their character sheet, wondering if their character will live to see another imagined sunrise. Epic battles, fair maidens, exotic quests all await these people.
That's not us.
MP-X301 listens carefully, then reports, "Ma'am, I just heard someone shouting in a language I don't recognize down this corridor. Sounds urgent." He pauses briefly, then, "I hear footsteps!"
Ah'Choo looks around frantically for options. She notices a decided lack of places to hide in, but the dead bodies give her a sudden idea. "I believe a good course of action might be to play dead?"
"I second this idea," Roy agrees.
"Let us, then," Ah'Choo declares.
Ah'Choo drops to the floor, pulls a couple of the dead bodies over her, and lays still, listening.
MP-X301 grabs some of the charred flesh, smears it onto the side of his chassis, removes one of his arms and holds it in his other arm in an artistic pose - as though it was knocked off in the damage - then shuts down all externally visible signs of activity.
Roy takes handfuls of blood and organs from the nearby corpses and tries to be convincing in his death.
They all lay perfectly still, in hopes of fooling the approaching beings. The footsteps get louder, and closer. Finally, they arrive, and slow to a stop no more than a few feet away. From the sound of it, there are two beings, but, because of the Party's dead act, they can't look directly at them without moving.[...]
"Dammit, I could have SWORN I heard voices!"
Then there's the people that quibble over every rule, demanding their just due from the DM, extracting every concession, tweaking every stat, building the ideal character that can destroy a Tarrasque in a single stroke and twice on Sundays.
That's not us either.
* Flint attempts to jump out the window.
BLusk: Give me a Jump Check, followed by an I'm Too Cool check.
BLusk: An I'm Too Cool check is just a plain D20.
Capn Ascii: Can't I do a Tumble check instead? ;)
BLusk: For getting out the window? Sure.
Capn Ascii: Kewl.
BLusk: The I'm Too Cool check has no substitute, however.
GameServ: Player1 rolled 1d20: 15 <Total: 15(+7) = 22>
GameServ: Player1 rolled 1d20: 2 <Total: 2>
BLusk: You were not cool.
* Flint somersaults out the window and lands on his feet outside, but somehow manages to make this entire maneuver look very uncool.
* Ronnie says, "I give it a 4 out of 10."
* "What!?" Flint pouts. "Geez."
Then there's the rare group that gets together to be friends, enjoy each other's company, roleplay dinner and checking into a hotel for the night and have just as much fun as when they run from a spider swarm the next morning in the sewers. The ones that make the cocky claim in a reckless fashion, then roll a natural 20 to back it up... or a natural 1 to back it up, too. The people that relish that nat 1 just as much as that nat 20 because you know, just know... that somewhere, somehow, a pigeon is going to die because of your actions.
What We Play
Our adventures are varied, unusual, insane, off-the-wall, and yet still grounded in some modicum of bad punnery.
The only place you can go to find a modernized sewer system infested with orcs, treasure, high-level rogues and traps galore. Not to mention the Trinsic topside, where the Porcine Palace provides your
top-quality foodstuffs and the local Pelor temple sells I <3 Pelor Boxers.
Also the only place you can go to find cow-hurling tornadoes and Vialable Victuals. Where WarMart provides your every combat need at low, low discount prices and the Goode-Knight Inn is the Hotel Chain of the Continent.
Space Quest: The Role Playing Game
Saddle up for Space, people! Here comes your chance to fly through deep space and fight alongside the worst attitudes in the cosmos... the pseudo-sexy engineer Ada Babbage, the evolutionarily evil medic/pilot MP-X301, the light-fingered and blue I'lroe Bioo, and the lethally simple-minded Rex, robotic wrecking machine with a flamethrower.
A random deity answers your cleric's prayer. Your rogue's chief advisor is a bag that produces random, useless items. Your fighter's weapon morphs into any standard weapon in the PHB... randomly. And your wizard gets a random spell... and always seems to manage to fireball the team.
You must be in the Chaotic Crew.
It's the near-future, where space flight has reached an advanced stage and a single corporation controls space, the world, the politicians, and the criminals. No, it's not WalMart. These new hires were sent to InfiniCorp's most "prestigious" posting, the top-notch scientific research base on the moon of Kevlo. Little did they know that the artificial intelligence that runs the base has gone insane, that overzealous researchers have installed security turrets all over the facility, or that period authentic LARPers would be fighting the security teams!
Only one place you can go to get shot out of the space with a flung '57 DeSoto. That's Relief Squad.
The retired brain-child of Jeysie, Finals at the Academy involved a group of near-graduates of the only college that trains you to be an adventurer! Yet, when things go wrong during the Final Exam, you can never be sure if it's time to take the safety strap off your weapons... because you may still be facing your examiners instead of your enemies.
Take Charlie's Angels, but make Charlie a ghost and the Angels not hot chicks. Their investigative talents are open for hire, but they're not above letting the customer dictate a price well above their normal rates.
A series of islands in some tropical region that all have remarkably simple shapes. The legends, politics, and awesomely cool items held there, however, are anything but.