Please tell us about your R.P.G. session

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It was just another day as FlyDog's Raiders. Lt Tre "FlyDog" Powers was leading the unit through the bombed out streets of Alpha Colony.

Up ahead, Pte Ricky DiCaperello noticed the thunder in the earth.

"Sounds like them bug bastards what killed my bro."

"Stow your shit Private," Sgt Peters shouted, "Apes lock and load!"

The troopers assumed prime firing positiong as the flood of warrior bugs came screaming down the narrow streets.

"Stay frosty till I give the word." FlyDog said, cool and calm as always.

"Now!"

And as the LT gave the order the Moritas lit up. Bugs dropped but no one know how amny, there were more coming. The horde got closer and closer. FlyDog knew that here, in the middle of the street his squad was bug food unless they moved.

"Bounce left."

The jet pack crackled to life as the squad jumped to the side, blasting the ferocious bugs midair.

"I don't like this," Peters shouted, "There's nowhere to move, the only way to jum now is into the goddamned bugs."

"Then shoot faster Sergeant!" FlyDog replied.

They fired and fired and fired, but the bugs were especially determined today. Fangs, scales and entire limbs were being shredded off by the sustained rifle fire. But still they came.

And when they did, the Mobile Infantry were toast.

And this was the end of FlyDog's Raiders.



Later, as the 82nd Pathfinder Company was scouring the area. In the middle of the bodies, came an unmistakably Brooklyn accent.

"You bug bastards are gonna pay for mucking up my leg."

Ricky DiCaperello later said he liked the new, metal, one better anyways.

And in the base camp the Raiders were feeling down. FlyDog had been one cool cat by their estimation. And no one was looking forward to being split up.

It was at this time when the Viking touched down and the black coated SICON officer stepped out.

"Troopers, I know you're all saddened by the loss of Lieutenant Powers. He may have not been SICON's picture of a model officer, but he did his job and always gave everything he had to the Federation. This spirit has carried over to you brave troopers and that is why SICON belives it is in the best interests of the mission that this unit remain intact for now."

It had been a long, hard campaign. This had been the only good news to come for quite some time. And at that moment, the unit broke into racous cheers and celebration.

"Atten-shun!" roared the voive from the back of the boat, snapping the trooprs out of the improptu celebration.

Walking down from the gang-plank, polished and shined the the Nth degree came the gruff old officer.

"I don't know how your old commanding officer did things, but the days of lax discipline and unmilitary conduct are over for this unit. The Mobile Infantry are the finest warriors that the human race has ever created, and it's time you looked and acted the part. You will find that I am a hard man but a fair one as well. I expect every man and woman in this unit to follow my orders without fail, without question, and without hesitation. I expect that you, your rifle, and your power suit will be kept in prime condition at all times. In return, I will bring you victory, and God willing, I will even bring some of you back to revel in that victory. Now, you have exactly one hour to take this mess you call a base camp and turn it into something that resembles a military fortification. Dismissed."

"Sir yes sir1" shouted the remnants of the unit.

In his 25 years with the UCF Territorial Police, Superindentent Samuel Benjamin Steele had brough order to the farthest and most lawless of mankin'd frontier dominions. And now, as a freshly re-upped Lieutenant he planned to do the same for the Raiders.

And this was the beginning of Steele's Scouts.

A quick and dirty recap af a game of Starship Troopers with podthulu.


It was a hot and miserable day on Firaxis, but in Senior Sergeant J.M. Wayne's mind, it was perfect for killin'.

This was before the tanker bug had ate the sniper.

"Listen up Apes. SICON wants this worthless, bug infested chunk o' land held on to. So that's what we're gonna do. Miller, Battencourt, take your squads and cover both ends of the canyon. Miller, I'll join up with your squad. Now, let's go fist some bugs!"

Charlie Company threw out a rousing "Ooh Rah!" Knowing that they had the best equipment and training mankind had to offer. The buge were surely doomed.

This was before the tanker bug ate the sniper.

Movement, shaking of the ground below, the telltale signs were there. The Arachnids were here.

A swarm of warriors charged down the hill, teeth, claws and jaws ready to rip the Mobile Infantry a new everything.

"Spine!"

And with that Pte Karen Ross sent a 7.62mm Morita Sniper round right between one bug's jaws, dropping him.

The other troopers opened up, thier volleys were much less accurate but just a deadly.

"Brain!"

Another warrior dropped.

"Hey Mike, you owe me 50 bucks now. 5 for 5." Karen shouted over massed rifle fire to Cpl Chambers.

The other squad was doing just as well on their side of things. Pte Joey DiCaparello was doing his part as unofficial moral booster by flipping the Brooklyn Salute to the charging hordes.

"Come get some you bug bastards!"

And then it went to shit.

In the SICON archives, it is listed in the battlefield transmissions that "Fuck me!" were the last words that Pte Karen Ross would ever speak. A decision was made not to convey this to her family back on Mars, and it was also decided to gloss over the parts of the transmission where she was eaten by a tanker bug making an unexpected entrance directly in front of her squad.

By the time Pte Ross made her uneventful last words, the squad of eight had now become a force of five. And after the bug let loose with it's lethal cauldron of slag, it as now down to three troopers.

"Suck on this!" Was Corporal Chambers' rallying cry as the remainder of the squad let loose with flechette grenades and the trench sweeper laser. SICON archives noted that the laser had seemed to cause the greatest on the minor annoyances that theeir weapos had unleashed. And that the tanker bug looked mildy inconveninced by all the fire directed at it, before melting the rest of the squad.

It wasn't until Pte Ricky Wilson had sunck a rocket inot it's ass from the other end of the battlefield that bug had actually felt true pain.

"Good shot Private, nobody eats my sniper and gets away with it." shouted SSgt Wayne.

Perhaps it was the sheer blinding pain of the Firechacker Missile, or the glare of the sun that drove the tanker back into the hole. More than likely, at least by the estimation of SICON's post encounter review, it was probably the rocket and not the slight discomfort of having the sun in its eyes.

"Stagger your candy asses apes, when that sumbitch comes up we're gonna give 'em everthing and then some."

Although never officialy recognized in the arcihes, SICON Military Analyst B.F. Porter noted in her journal that it was deliciously iron ic that Sgt Wayne was the first one to be hit with the slag blast when the tanker resurfaced.

The survivors laced into the tanker with everything in the arsenal. And it looked genuinely hurt by this stage.

Ricky Wilson let up a cheer when his secon rocket caught the tanker right in the face.

"Booya.......Oh fu...."

Which was all he got out when the burst of slag melted him into the dirt, along with Pte DiCaperello who true to form had flipped off the tanker before his horrible melty doom. Most of the squad joined them.

Pte Lynn Deschenes fumbled with the Triple Thud Launcher. She only had one shot since the bug was prepping for a second burst to finish her, Katya Yuschenko and Aggie Simms off.

"Okay ready, aim, don't pull and aim, SHIT!"

In all the panic and rush, she pulled the trigger and the grenade took off right for the ground.

Before Lynn could contemplate what it felt like to be burned to death, a wonderous thing happened. A legendary shot that would become a recurring replay in the secretive SICON battlefield video and popcorn nights that happen every Wednesday after Senior Intelligence Director Frank Gribble leaves for the day.

The grenade bounced off Percy Dawson's charred corpse, and into the tanker's mouth.

The resulting blast knocked Katya and Aggie to the ground. But all Lynn Deschenes could do was stand there, wide eyed and covered in bug guts. It took her five minutes to finally choke out, "Maybe Percy wasn't such a useless tit after all." She never moved.

From the pile of smoking bodies came a familliar gruff voice, "Did we kill it."

"Sweet Robot Jesus!" exclaimed Aggie, "Sergeant Wayne, you're alive!"

"Close enough, we held the hill right?"

"Yes sir we held the hill, how are you even talking."

"That pansy should have used more of that bug slag of his if we wants to take J.M. Wayne out of the fight, pilgrim."

Aggie snapped out of the shock and awe of talking to her melted commander and snapped into action, calling for evac and medial teams.

"What in the Blue Hell do you think you're doing corporal?"

"Calling for evac."

"Fuck that noise," snapped the sergeant, "I'm not going anywhere 'till the job's done."

"With all due respect sir, my helmet's display's telling me that 50 percent of your body's melted into your M2 power suit right now, you're pulling out."

"It's just a goddamned flesh wound!"

Katya was spending her time trying to snap Lynn out after her trance.

"Lynn!!! Lynn!!!!"

After a while she spoke again.

"Noodle. Can't process bug splodie. Hurts in my noodle."

She got progessively saner in the Viking Landing boat and enjoyed the R&R time after the mission. The promoton to Corporal didn't hurt either.

dark conspiracy:
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podthulhu comes up with some pretty good stuff.

Last night it was, "Ballistic Wang."

Something that becomes etched in your memory... What was the best one-liner your group's had?

Is the lost_guide insane? I have been trying to get him to return or at the very least explain to me why he made me incharge of this community over the weeks. Today he sent a message that said that "Hello again, I am and fine, sane, mostly well adjusted, and not helping you get out of your problem that I caused, thanks for asking. Contact me again and I will fire a trebuchet fill with radioactive rubber pants in your general direction." Please tell me that he is about to be locked up or is locked up with a straight jacket. Also, if anyone wants to maintain this community please let me know.

Does anyone know why I was made a maintainer for this community? I just got an email about it and I am a little confused.

Hi everybody! How is everyone today?

Ok, I know that this is not April (I sort of remember promising stuff happening in or around that month), but I will be trying in the near future to get more people to join and posting more content on this community. As usual, PLEASE POST!!! Any style, anything sort of game like, and even how good/bad/or ulgy this community is. I will even accept online gaming stuff. So does anyone have any comment or concerns?

The battle had run it's course and many lay dead in the sands of Terra Nova. Captain Cristobal considered pondering the senselessness of the day's proceedings but decided he'd rather go drinking and dance with some girls instead. And Celeste Dubois, the buxom new recruit in the Mad Dog, was first on his list. She wasn't from the South per se', just from the southern tip of the Badlands before moving to the Protectorate.

Over in the brush were the smouldering remains of a squad of Ferrets. The small scout Gears got stuck in the middle of the firefight and were caught trying to get out when McKinnon Timone caught them. Her sister had been crushed when an errant missile hit the Fort Henry opera house during the recent attack. The young Duelist had some things to work out, and two autocannons. It ended rather badly for the Ferrets.

But for Antonio it wasn't a total loss, the MP's were tied up with the newly acquired deserters and wouldn't notice five Gears making a slight detour in the patrol route to Dawg River. He could smell the marks from here, he could also smell burning flesh. Both smells made him want to depart rather quickly.

Dawg River was quiet and Squad 6 made a rather hushed entry into town. Or, as hushed as a Kodiak Destroyer, Peacemaker Razorback, Jaguar, Mad Dog and a Saboteur Ferret with a 15 foot tall noburi war banner welded to the frame could be.

"So when are these couriers supposed to get here, boss?" Hank asked.

"Should be any time now," replied Antonio, "Hmmm, you see those contacts off to the East."

"On my radar now."

"Timone, can you see them?"

"Yup," quipped the Duelist, "Magnification 10 shows, a Caiman, Ferret, and two Flammjagers. The Caiman has NOT ROVERS painted on the side"

Captain Cristobal nearly leapt out of the cockpit. "Holy dawgshit, rovers. Sneaky rovers. Squad 6, move out. Monkey 7 formation"

Gendo primed his grenades, "You mean when the one where I charge in like a GREL on a case of Octan, Timone keeps my ass in one piece and you slow bastards follow us and blow shit up."

"Yes that one."

On the other end of town Buttmail was pulling up, cargo in tow.

"Hey Ron."

"Yeah Ron"

"That looks like the clents."

"Typical Northies, they're so starved for good porn that they're running at us."

"What the? Ron that Ferret just ran right between us."

"Yeah, and he dropped something, Ron."

"Oh, well, Crap! It's a Self Destruct grenade!"

"Merde!"

All in all the run and gun tactic worked. The grenade knocked the Flammjagers on their asses with only superficial damage. The hail of rockets convinced the Caiman that it should stop and look as innocent as possible. And the quite over armed Ferret had a grand plan up it's sleeve until a very large bazooza hit the buttwheel, as the Gear was pulling 80 km/h. The flips were impressive.

The pilot hatch on the Kodiak and Antionio stepped out to look at his catch of the day. The Ferret's hatch opened and a very angry woman made her way out.

"Well well well, you rover shitbag I guess it's time you face some...... Paddi?"

"Antionio?, You owe me a new buttwheel you asshole."

Over the comms came Celeste's voice, "Oh Captain, my captain."

"I'm a little busy right now."

"Okay, but I felt you'd like to know you just nearly ordered us to blow all of your new, expensive, Southern porn sky high."

"Wait, Paddi, you're a courier?" asked Antonio.

"Yes."

"Not a rover."

"It says that right on the truck."

"Oh."

Antonio's face had gone from shit-eating I just caught some rovers, to I got caught with my hands in the cookie jar please Mom don't kill me, in under 60 seconds.

"Uhhh, my bad. At least no one died."

"Not yet." scowled Paddi.

"Bah, I've got some guys in the Motor pool who owe me some favours. It's just the wheel, I'll get you a new one, Army surplus you could say."

"You were one metre from taking me from the wheel."

"And I'll pay and extra ten percent of the shipping costs," Antionio quickly threw out, she still looked unconvinced so he upped the ante, "And I'll let you have some patrol routes to make 'shipping' easier.... and I'll do the thing with my tongue that....." the rest was turned in to a mishmash that went right into Paddi's ear.

Ron and Ron didn't know what the Western officer was promising the boss but the sudden smile on her face probably meant it involved more money. And some kind of deed that would violate Northern morality laws, and maybe a few Southern ones.

Here's a thematic recap of the most delightful battle I had at a Games Day a while back.


It was 16:07 in the afternoon and Cristobal Antonio was having a bad day.

His company had been patrolling the wastes of the Badlands for what seemed like ages now. Chasing rovers, escorting caravans as well as many other military equivalents of busy work.

"You know, sometimes I think that the CO has it in for me." he sighed over the comms to his own squad.

"Well," piped Sherman Hank, his closest ally, best friend and muscle man for various questionable schemes, "you did leave her at the altar."

"Bah, she needs to drop it already. I said I was sorry."

The only consolation of the captain's current posting was that it made his various business operations easier. In a few days the couriers would arrive in Dawg River with the "interesting" videos from the South that he knew would be good for morale, and his pocketbook.

"Hey boss," piped Hasegawa Gendo, the Ferret enthusiast who finally got his dream Gear after a landmine helped him make the height restrictions on the vehicle's cramped cockpit, "I've got some contacts 20 degrees south west. Looks like, Northern gears."

"Huh?" Antonio found that odd, as the 222nd was the only Gear regiment in the area. And rovers usually had a mix of Northern, Southern and the odd bit of Peace River hardware.

After following the contacts for an hour, hhe unit came face to face with the Nova Cats. The Cats were on of the North's premiere units, until 85 percent of the regiment went AWOL shortly after the outbreak of the Interpolar War. Captain Cristobal found them, so it was up to him to bring htem back, one way or the other. At the same time part of him understood why they did it. Many of them fought against Earth, together with the South and were disgusted by the thought of raising arms agains their former comrades. But that was then and this was now, and the fires were still burning in Fort Henry so the sympathetic part of him was a hell of a lot smaller now.

"You have one chance, and one chance only to disembark your gears, surrender peacefully and come with me back North."

"I can't do that." replied a voice.

His sensors tracked the voice to the Command Hunter by the brush.

"I'm sorry."

And with that he raised the hand on his Kodiak, which signalled the Aller main battle tank to lock and fire it's massive rail gun at the gear. The hypersonic metal slug punched through the armour as if it wasn't even there. It landed dead centre and there was no doubt that it hit the pilot's compartment.

The battle was on.