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Post by Tycho on May 1, 2006 12:45:01 GMT -5
The Wasteland "Following the Great War, the major cities became hotbeds of radioactive activity and completely uninhabitable. Survivors flocked to the Outback, taking refuge in small settlements, or roaming the wastes as nomads.
The threat of starvation and thirst is just as real as the danger from roving gangs of marauders and scavangers.
Not many can be trusted, and even fewer relied upon.
Nobody believes in heroes anymore... but that's not to say that none still exist."Here's a thread within which the numerous adventures which are bound to have occurred out in the wastes can be explored. Play together or alone, with tightly-knit rules and scripts or just loose storylines!
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Post by Tycho on Feb 12, 2005 9:38:21 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Now that the Atomic Cafe has been empty quite a long time, we are free to start up a new RPG/Storyling, ideas or suggestions can go here.[/glow]
Also, if anyone has any problems or questions about what's going on in the Cafe, or just about Roleplaying in general, feel free to ask them here!
I'm no expert on anything, but I'd sure be glad to help you out.
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Post by Tycho on Apr 20, 2003 7:32:44 GMT -5
Dr. Dealgood suddenly ordered to the Guardsmen to take off the leather jacket from Tycho's torso. Indeed, the jacket was totally useless there, and it basically reminded to the late, disappeared "Man With No Name", the warrior who defeated Blaster.
Uncle grins. He's a real bad ass.
The Guardsmen left the Thunderdome in order to keep themself alive. Dr.Dealgood left too, with a serious expression on his face.
BOOM! An hit in the air announces the beginning of the challenge.
Tycho digs his feet into the dust and charges forward, he throws a punch but Uncle quickly blocks it. The two men trade blows each managing to block the attacks of the other. Suddenly Tycho spins into a crouch and extends his leg, delivering a sweep which knocks Uncle off balance. Uncle's legs fly up from the arena floor and he lands heavily on his shoulder's with a grunt. He looks unhurt, just winded...
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Post by Tycho on Apr 19, 2003 15:50:29 GMT -5
Ahem Dr Dealgood just to clear a few things up... Tycho sports an interesting jacket. Legend is its the jacket worn by the original Road Warrior, Tycho found it after looking to scavenge parts from the wrecks after the legendary freeing of Master.
He wears a brown faded prewar hat, looking suspiciously like the one sported by Indiana Jones inthe ancient trilogy of adventure movies...
Tycho squares up to Uncle clenching his fists.
The combatants have chose to refrain from wearing the elastic ropes. Instead the weapons are suspended about 10 feet up in the edges of the dome... a short climb will bringa combatant to his first weapon.
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 12:51:35 GMT -5
I thought perhaps we could acquire some vehicles from these Marauders and perhaps they could be forced to provide us with some information... perhaps a destination we could travel too, a better place than the desolate reamins of Bartertown.
I was thinking that after we finish getting to know one another the Vermin could arrive in their vehicles, after a fight we manage to defeat them and explore their many treasures which they have acquired from the wastes. Maybe one remains only injured and when.. pushed reveals information on a new settlement which they had intended to invade...
It's just an idea to get the Role Play started, give us an excuse to go off adventuring in the wastes.
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Post by Tycho on Mar 6, 2004 17:53:49 GMT -5
Hey Role Players!
I see some of you namely Oz and MaxMel have decided to actually Role Play a little! AWESOME.
It must have been back in August 2003 that I asked the admin (Mad Max) to create this part of the board for me and my friends to roleplay. In the process he appointed me the Barkeep of the Atomic Cafe and in charge of the RPGing that went on.
As you can see in my post i just turned up from a trip thru the wastes and have returned to my Cafe to find MaxMel hiding inside but before I can find out whats happened in my absence the roar of engines announces the approach of some unknown threat!
Why dont we use this thread to discuss story ideas that we can use in the RPG or if you want I can create a whole new thread just for our adventure!?
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Rules!
Apr 23, 2003 11:40:50 GMT -5
Post by Tycho on Apr 23, 2003 11:40:50 GMT -5
The Battles all ready have begun, Me and Uncle took each other on!
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Rules!
Apr 20, 2003 7:29:24 GMT -5
Post by Tycho on Apr 20, 2003 7:29:24 GMT -5
I want our battle to be man to man! No sissy elastic ropes, I'm gonna kick your ass the old fashioned way!
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Post by Tycho on Dec 20, 2006 18:52:15 GMT -5
Tycho blinked as his eyes were met by a hundred twinking lamps which shone in the darkness. The inner-township was divided into grids of ramshackle buildings, almost like city-blocks from the cities of the before.
What he saw first resembled a shanty-town, huts made from corrugated sheets and roofed by wooden slats. As the gate-keeper took him further in however the abodes grew larger and more grand, made from wood and stone.
Clearly there was wealth and poverty within this town, no matter how unified the grand facade of the outside suggested.
He travelled maybe a half-klik before being led into a white-washed stone building. He noted the sign above the door which simply read.
"The Elders"
The interior was cold and sterile, a most peculiar sight in a world used to dust and blood. Tycho blinked as the fluroescent lights upon the ceiling burned into his brain.
"How do you power this place?" he asked the gate-keeper. "We have renewable sources." The gatekeeper replied, almost cyptically. "My old town used to run on methane." Tycho said with nonchalance, "but aint no animals left to provide it." "Yes." the Gate-keeper replied, "we knew all about bartertown."
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Post by Tycho on Dec 20, 2006 15:14:56 GMT -5
"I hear you got your mayor killed." Tycho said. "Yes," the eyes replied, "that is regrettably true." "I heard you never caught the culprit." "No, we sent brothers into the wastes, but they have not returned."
Tycho removed the satchel he carried and held its contents up to the slot. The eyes narrowed as they recognised the severed head of the stranger from bartertown, the man who had killed their mayor.
"Thou shalt not kill!" the eyes hissed angrily. "An eye for an eye." Tycho replied, recognising the biblical significance of the eyes' words. "'sides, what you think those marauders you sent out were gonna do." "Yes..." the eyes replied, "you speak the truth."
The slot slammed shut and for a moment Tycho thought he'd blown his chances. But a humming noise came from the ground and a deep rumbling as cogs and gears whirred below the dusty tarmac. The gargantuan steel door was cast aside and a man was revealed behind it. Dressed in a simple brown robe tied with a rope, green eyes shone out from under a hood.
"The leader will wish to see you." The eyes replied, beckoning Tycho to follow. He did so and took a look at the interior of the large compound. There was little to see and he was led down a wide avenue which was walled on each side and led to an inner-gate.
"Like a f**kin' fortress in here." Tycho mutterred under his breath. "Sorry brother?" the gate-keeper replied, having caught wind of the muttered words. "You trying to keep us out, or someone in?" Tycho mused aloud.
The gate-keeper laughed for a moment, a dry and hollow sound and continued on. They reached the second gate, next to which a small guardhouse stood. From within the guardhouse two men emerged, dressed in grey, pressed fatigues and carrying automatic weapons.
"Surrender your arms here." The men commanded bluntly.
Without much of a choice, Tycho complied, unshouldering his shotgun and removing a 44 magnum from the satchel he still carried. He also gave up his extra shells to the two men who took them inside the guardhouse.
"I'll be having those back when I leave, or there'll be boot-prints on your faces." Tycho muttered, but the guards said nothing and returned to their post.
Their were futher whirrings and rumblings and the inner-gate slowly drew back to reveal the settlement within.
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Rules!
Apr 19, 2003 16:23:11 GMT -5
Post by Tycho on Apr 19, 2003 16:23:11 GMT -5
[glow=blue,2,300][/glow]
[glow=red,2,300]Challenging[/glow] 1. If you wish to challenge someone open a new thread with your username plus the name of your opponent.
2. Don't get mad if someone doesn't want to fight, or ignores you. You can't force them!
3. If both combatants open a new thread choose one and start posting, the defunct one shall be deleted by a moderator (Me and Uncle) or the Moderator (Max).
[glow=green,2,300]Combat[/glow] 1. Describe your character at the start of each bout. Try not to describe the other combatant's character... that's for them to do.
2. Take turns posting what your character does. Try not to dictate what happens to the other character don't say something like "I pick up chainsaw and kill bob"
3. Have fun!
[glow=yellow,2,300]Suggestions[/glow]
1. If you have any suggestions for new rules open a new thread in the thunderdome section and it will be studied soon.
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Post by Tycho on Dec 19, 2006 19:22:34 GMT -5
He used parts from the Raiders' vehicles outside to fix the old motorcycle out the back of the cafe, figuring it would get the most miles to the gallon. After gathering his supplies, Tycho roared out of Bartertown on his methane fuelled hog. He headed in the general direction of which the stranger had spoken, seeking the Ark, and perhaps salvation for Bartertown.
It was a mission of love for his old haunt and perhaps the Ark could supply a new populace for Bartertown, once the gemstone of the desert and now a crumbling a ruin.
On his fourth day he met a travelling salesman by the name of Eronius Archer. Tycho bartered some hog-shanks for two jugs of the hybrid fuel on which his chopper ran. The skies were clear and the winds low, and he made good time across the wastelands.
It rose up out of the sands on the sixth night, a towering castle of steel which shone like a beacon of glittering fireflies under the moonlight.
The Ark?
Tycho approached with caution, cutting the engine a mile from the large compound and proceeding on foot, having left the motorcycle hidden under an old tarpaulin.
The walls were high and smooth, patrolled by men with rifles at intervals of twenty feet. At least half a kilometre in width, the great wall was impassable by ground. He moved closer, along a well-worn path which led to a mighty gate.
He knocked twice upon the cold surface and a slot drew back, two green eyes shining through the hole.
"Is this the Ark?" Tycho asked. "It has many names," The eyes replied, "one of which is the Ark." "What is this place?" Tycho asked. "It is a sanctuary." answered the green eyes, "It was built by the leader to survive the flood of evil which has tainted these lands." "Is this the door?" Tycho asked. "That depends on what you seek." The eyes replied.
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Post by Tycho on Apr 10, 2006 10:54:54 GMT -5
The man's eyes went blank and his body tensed, then relaxed. He was dead.
Tycho looked around the bar. It was shot up pretty good and much of the furniture had been smashed. Luckily, most of the bottles and glasses behind the bar remained untouched, they were commodities which would have been very difficult to replace.
The bartender took a seat at the bar, running a hand through his short silver hair. There were a lot of questions he would have liked to ask the stranger. About life outside Bartertown, about the 'Ark' he mentioned, about anything really.
Tycho's first job would have to be fixing the damage to the Atomic Cafe, repairing the funiture and burying the bodies before they went bad. After that he could have a look at the vehicles they had travelled to bartertown in, hopefully there would be something useful to find. Then he wouldn't be sure what to do.
He hadn't seen anyone for months and now he finally had found someone to talk to, they were dead within minutes of setting foot inside the cafe.
Maybe the place is cursed Tycho told himself.
Maybe he oughta check out the strangers story, the story about the town due East of Bartertown. The Ark. It had sounded like a refuge from the Wasteland, but if what the stranger had said was true about slavery and strict laws and undemocratic government, maybe it was just worth steering clear of.
The real issue that interested Tycho was the fact that the Ark, if it existed, could have sprung up over such a short period of time. If it were true, there was hope that other settlements could begin to appear throughout the Wastes.
Perhaps there was even still hope for Bartertown...
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Post by Tycho on Apr 4, 2006 16:48:23 GMT -5
There was silence for some time. Tycho spent some time wiping down the counter, and polishing the glasses he and the stranger had drank from.
Voices were heard, calling to one another. Tycho walked over to the saloon doors and peered out into the streets. There were six men.
Good guess Tycho he mused.
They seemed to be searching the buildings one by one, working their way through what remained of bartertown. Tycho leant back, not wanting to be seen.
He saw they carried weapons, semi-auto pistols and a couple of shotguns of the pump-action variety. It seemed he was indeed right to not go up against them after all.
He returned to the bar and went back to polishing glasses. As an afterthought he reached down into the lost property box and pulled out a couple of forty-five caliber bullets, just in case he did have to draw down on those suckers outside.
The voices drew closer, attracted no doubt by his cafe. It wasn't hard to notice that the steps outside were swept, that the windows were just a little cleaner than most. Spring cleaning didn't make for good camoflauge in a ghost town...
The six men breezed into the cafe. They were all tall, and wore matching long overcoats and hats, kinda like regulators from an old Western movie made before the War.
Tycho looked up from the bar.
"You fellas looking for a drink?" Tycho asked. Hopefully they wouldn't just start shooting. Otherwise he was in for a world of pain.
All six approached the bar took seats along its length. Tycho grabbed some glasses and started pouring whiskey. By the looks of them, these men wouldn't have drank anything else.
"We're looking for a man." one of the overcoats said.
Tycho looked at him for a moment. "Fraid the brothel closed a long time ago. You can't even get a women these days."
Overcoat didn't appreciate the joke. He threw his shot glass against the nearest wall, were it shattered into a million pieces, seemingly his patience broke too.
"I'm looking for a man..." he hissed, "...to kill, not f**k. He's about five-ten, greasy haired, wore mostly black leather and carried a satchel. Tell me anything you know old man I ain't in the mood for jokes."
Tycho frowned. Old? Sure his hair was a bit grey after all the radiation and he was pushing forty... but old? That was just plain rude.
"Ain't been noone here for months." Tycho replied, "Certainly not matching your description. In fact, ain't been anyone here matching any description. You're in a ghost town friend, if you hadn't noticed."
Overcoat looked to his cohorts and then around the cafe.
"You sure keep this place clean for a man with no customers." Overcoat commented.
"Old habits die hard." Tycho replied, spite creeping into his voice.
"Best not get smart old man," overcoat said, "you're outnumbered six to one and shooting a man ain't as easy as pouring whiskey."
"Whatever you say friends," Tycho replied, "but I haven't seen a man matching your description and if you ain't gonna pay for your drinks, I think it's best you all leave."
Overcoat frowned. Clearly he was used to getting his own way and was thrown by the smart-ass bartender with grey hair and quick-draw rig hanging by his waist.
"Ain't worth the effort." Overcoat told his friends. They all stood and made for the doors.
Tycho's hand, which had been creeping towards his pistol now relaxed. Seems the six from the Ark was pass on without incident. Bullets were worth a lot in the Wastes, too much to waste on shooting random fellas in bars.
Overcoat almost made it to the doors, almost. For some reason, the Stranger burst through the floorboards, and he came up gun blazin'. Noone would ever know why the Stranger chose to come out of hiding. Maybe he was too proud a man to hide from his problems... maybe he was just tired of running, In any case, it looked like he was determined to go down swinging.
Overcoats' men were caught off-guard and the stranger easily blew two away with his shotgun before they even knew what hit them. The stranger moved with a practised grace and even as he fired off his first shots he was rolling across the floor behind tables and chairs, reloading his shotgun as he went.
The remaining four overcoats opened up on him, ripping apart the cafe's interior with shotgun and pistol fire.
Meanwhile Tycho leapt behind the bar, seeking cover, not wanting to get caught in the cross fire. He waited there whilst the action continued above.
Eventually the gunfire ceased.
Tycho rose to examine the damage. Three overcoats lay dead. Three still stood. The stranger lay in the centre of the floor, his shotgun still in hand. His head looked split apart, probably from a shotgun blast, he certainly wasn't breathing if that's what you're wondering.
Tycho sighed, looked like this mess would take a while to clear up.
The remaining three overcoats looked at him incredulously. Seemed they weren't too pleased he'd been hiding the stranger under the floorboards.
"You f**king were hiding him old man," the leader hissed, "I shoulda f**king known it!"
"What you want we should do?" One of the others asked him.
"Christ, just kill him." the leader replied.
Tycho sighed, cleaning up the blood of four men would have been bad enough.
All three overcoats brought their weapons to bear, aiming them across the bar at Tycho.
They were eons too slow.
Tycho drew lightning fast, fanning the hammer as he raised the weapon. The three overcoats were tightly grouped, making aiming easy.
He shot once, hitting boss overcoat high in the chest. Even as he reacted from the bullet's impact Tycho was fanning the hammer, loosing off rounds at the remaining two.
All three hit the floor as one, blood streaming from their wounds.
Tycho walked out from behind the bar and wandered over the lead overcoat, watching as blood bubbled out of his mouth. The other two were already dead. Tycho kicked the man's weapon away and leant down, the man looked like he was trying to say something.
"..." lead overcoat began, "...how?"
Tycho smiled, "I ain't that old."
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Post by Tycho on Apr 4, 2006 14:59:27 GMT -5
"You gonna give me up?" the stranger asked nonchalantly as the engines drew nearer. Strangely he didn't seem too scared... but there was something in his eyes... no, not fear. Hell, the stranger just looked tired, like butter spread over too much bread.
"Depends if you want to get caught," Tycho replied, "if you feel like hiding some place out of sight, that's your business. I wont give you up, not till you've paid me for those two drinks."
"You won't give me up..." the stranger repeated, "but you won't help me out either right?"
"Sounds like 3 vehicles," Tycho answered, "maybe two men to a car makes maybe 6 men total. If they've got guzzoline, chances are they've got guns and ammo too. I've got some weapons myself, a couple of bullets kickin' around too. I know the terrain, could probably set up an ambush, but even then, I still don't fancy the odds. You're on your own."
The stranger spun on the seat, looking through the entrance, over the saloon doors. He sighed and reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder. He pulled out a sawn-off shotgun and stuffed a couple of shells into his pocket.
Tycho frowned. Didn't seem fair. He had assumed the stranger would've at least had a semi-automatic weapon of some kind if he was gonna go around shooting politicians. Maybe he'd have to offer the stranger a little help after all... just to keep it fair.
"Listen," Tycho relented, "look over in the corner there, some of the floorboards are loose. If you lift them up theres a crawlspace under the cafe. You can hide there for a while."
The stranger smiled, clearly he didn't fancy his odds in a fair fight against his pursuers either. He made for the boards and pulled them up, carefully placing them back as he slid under the floor.
Meanwhile the engines grew louder and finally stopped. Seemed like Bartertown had guests.
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