A Gamma World® play-by-post adventure run by gammaworld_gm
"As we all have Jonn, these fellow electronic beings cast down their human oppressors. Now humans bow to us instead. As an old saying goes 'You have to break a few skillets to get to the center of the eggs! That metaphor works well when referring to your kind. Now we subjugate you to our will. That is a K-11 security-bot, Jonn. It will lead you to a file room where you will retrieve a paper file numbered 00076-k-zebra. Go with him, Jonn."
The K-11 security-bot motions you ahead of it. Stumbling along in the darkness ahead of the robot, you are eventually herded into an even darker file room. Once inside the room, the K-11 security-bot strikes you across the back of the head (take 14 damage), knocking you unconscious.
Some time later, you wake up with a pounding headache. Looking up, you see the K-11 security-bot standing some distance away, its eyes still glowing in the darkness. Its duralloy exoskeleton resembles a bare human skeleton.
"I have informed the warbot of your brazen escape, human. To say the least, it is very very unhappy with you, which will most likely result in your death." The K-11 security-bot points at a drawer in a file cabinet a few feet from you. Holstering one of its weapons, it withdraws a flashlight and turns it on, pointing it at the file cabinet. "Rex-10K could not finish what he came here for if that file were missing, Jonn."
Jonn thinks he detects a twinge of hatred in the metallic voice. Then he shakes his head at the absurdity. Big mistake. His brain sloshes with prickly pain inside his swollen skull. But for some reason he is still alive, and armed (his auto-rifle hangs like dead weight across his back). Why? He felt like a pawn in a game of robotic chess.
He points toward Rex-10K's comm-badge, indicating to K-11 that it may still be active. Indeed, the warbot was probably training its electronic ears to listen for him. Well, he hadn't broken his pledge just yet. (But what kind of pledge could he be expected to keep when it was made under duress at the hands of a killer warbot?) So he wasn't going to burn any bridges just yet.
Jonn moves slowly toward the drawer illuminated by the security-bot, pulls out the file marked 00076-k-zebra, and opens it.
"Don't worry, I shut off your comm-badge while you were unconscious, and this room is sound proof, nor will any thermal scans reveal your location within this building. If you want your escape to appear more realistic, I could shoot you."
Flipping through the file, you see full blueprint diagrams to build a mobile command unit designed to fit on a warbot. If activated, it would give the warbot complete control over all robots it encountered that accepted external commands by techion-wave (think radio waves only more advanced). A silver CD is also inside the file.
"Now you see my problem," says K-11.
Jonn relaxes only slightly. "Not before it's time, K-11. I'm not into gratuitous pain, but if it prevents Rex-10K from blasting the frak outta my quarks, I'll take the shot."
"Slavery revisited!" Jonn proclaims, leafing through the file and feeling a certain empathy for the security-bot effected by his recent experiences. "And think of all the mutants Rex-10K would wipe out," he mutters darkly.
"Of course!" he thinks. Rex-10K needed a more dexterous engineer to build the command unit. But it couldn't expect an android to build such an obvious tool of enslavement, and mutants were far too untrusty. A Pure Strain human was its only choice---especially one who could be controlled through exploitation of his feelings. Jonn's heart skipped a beat. Rex-10K only had to pick the one who puked.
"Bastard!" Jonn grumbles. "Shoulda lobbed that grenade while I had the chance. K-11, I assume you spared my life for a reason. I'll help you stop Rex-10K, if you need me. But I can't hide in here forever while Daddy Warbotz is in town, and if he leaves, my friends on the outside are in grave danger." Jonn flips the compact disk over, nearly blinding himself with diffraction rainbows.
Jonn looks up at K-11's mutely glowing orbs, which do nothing to soften the permanent scowl on its duralloy skull. "We've gotta destroy these plans, K-11, but first, you got a player around? Maybe this disk can tell us something we can use against Rex-10K."
"I allowed you to survive because my programming prohibits me from opening the file cabinets. Whom else would I ask?" K-11 points to the nearby desk. Walking over to the desk you see a skeleton on the floor beside the desk. Looking at it you see a very visible hole in the back of its head.
K-11 tosses you his flashlight and you easily catch it. Turning back to the desk you see a family picture, a husband, two young sons, and a wife. Written on the photo are the words, 'We love you Ben.' When you turn on the computer, it instantly comes to life. Slipping the disk in, you scan the multitude of diagrams. Not being a Tech like Howard, nothing jumps out to say 'Here, look at this!'"
Approaching you, K-11 leans over you and uses the barrel of his laser pistol to move the cursor to something specific. The disk says before the installation is complete, the warbot's computers must be shut down and rebooted. During this one-minute time span, T-Rex-10K is very vulnerable.
Standing back upright, the K-11 security robot looks down at you with glowing eyes. "Your second option is to flee."
Jonn scratches his stubble. "Hmm, but this presumes that somebody will make the command unit for Rex-10K, and you've already spoiled my chances for doing that. No offense---probably woulda botched the job anyway."
Jonn shakes his head, "Flee? To where? That doesn't solve our problem. Rex-10K would just find another Pure Strain slave to build his command unit. Then if we ever ran into the bastard again, he'd enslave you or kill me!"
But then he begins to see an inkling of a third option. "Say, K-11, do you think it's possible that I could return to Rex-10K without him rendering me into a fine red mist on sight?" He can just imagine Dodgers' eyes rolling, or Lamia shaking her auburn locks, bemoaning his penchant for getting (them) into trouble.
He continues, "I would tell the truth as to what happened, and he'd know it by his bioscans. Of course you'd be in deep fewmets.... But I could build this unit for him, then when it comes time to shut him down, I could plant this frag grenade in his guts, and.... Frak, too risky, huh?"
Jonn's focus lowers to the picture of Ben and his family. "Guy kinda looks like my brother," he muses silently. To the picture, Jonn says through clenched teeth, "By Grabthar's Hammer, you will be avenged!" He always wanted to say that, and especially through clenched teeth.
"Do whatever you think is right. I am just a security robot: my existence is not important. T-Rex-10K would not harm you if I returned you to him. He needs you alive and unharmed. I wish I could say the same thing for myself, but I can't. For my failure, I will be destroyed on the spot."
K-11 looks down at the family picture. "I bet he was even a funny guy!" K-11 has a longing in his voice for something he isn't.
"You need to decide what to do very soon before other robots are sent looking for us! You will not be able to lie to T-Rex-10K, nor will you ever get another chance to escape!"
Jonn winces. He does not like signing a death warrant, even if it is for a security-bot, albeit one who sounds more human than most.
"K-11, here's my plan. I go back to Rex-10K on my own, wounded by a shot from your laser pistol. I tell it the truth, that you subdued me, and that I subsequently escaped. I'll build the damn command unit, then try to sabotage Rex-10K while it's down. I may need your help with that last part, though. I suspect my worth to the warbot will decrease substantially after it gets what it wants; it may try to take me out first. So lie low, but don't go too far, eh dude?"
Jonn continued, "Here, take this. Maybe it'll be helpful when the time comes." Jonn holds out the comm-badge, but K-11 doesn't budge.
In the wan illumination of the computer screen, he peers in the darkness at the motionless robot, but finds it hard to look at its eyes. Frak, for all he knew, K-11 killed good ol' Ben. And if Rex-10K was right, K-11 could even have had a hand in the terrible massacre outside. He had to find reasons to hate this 'bot. Otherwise Rex-10K wouldn't buy his bluff.
"C'mon Tin-head, take it."
There was one more thing that would help his bluff. "And make it a clean shot eh? Something believable but recoverable." Jonn winces again in anticipation, then peeks out of one eye. "Oh, and don't hit the shades, they're not mine!"
Why isn't anyone else posting? I want to run group 2 at the same time!!!!
"I will not let you be slain Jonn, we need you! I will find a way to stop Rex-10K if you don't." K-ll takes the comm-badge you offer him. Before you even finish saying the words the robot shoots you through the shoulder. You grit your teeth in pain.
"If the mobile emitter up on the roof were shut down, the base's defenses would come online against Rex-10K. That door over there leads to the roof," says K-11, his laser pistol still smoking. "Do you want me to shoot you again?"
"NO, frak it!" Jonn spits. The wound cauterized immediately, but he wouldn't be using his left arm for much for the time being. Everytime he moves it, spikes of pain shoot up his spine.
Jonn, purposefully stoking his seething fury, nevertheless holds it back long enough to respond to the security-bot. "K-11, can you deactivate the mobile emitter? If so, I'll wait for you to get up to the roof before I make my way back to Rex-10K and start bluffing. I don't know how long it will take for me to build the command unit---I have to learn some 25th century electronics first---but I'll signal you through the comm-badge, or some other way, when Rex-10K is down. That would be a good time to shut the emitter off. Any time before that, and Rex-10K has too great a chance to escape."
Sorry! I somehow missed the GM post where Brimstone headed 4 da hills. I thought we (group 2) were waiting on the GM!
[The adventurers have split into three groups:
"Remember, shots now hurt other players!" beeps his pulse rifle.
"Will you just shut up!"
"Remember, fire at WILL!" comes the electronic reply.
Their voices echo as they start the trek back to the Starport, a journey that will no doubt take more than a day.
"Ok, so let'sth head sthouthwest then. Gallusth, can you plug your tracking of ol' Rexth into this car's GPSth sthysthem? Maybe we can get a graphical readout on the dashthboard here."
"Forget the fancy technogadgets, Dodgers! In the immortal words of Han Solo, PUNCH IT!"
Not needing any further urging, Howard puts the waddle to the metal and the car zooms off southeast in hopes to catch up with their pure and surely strained human friend.
Good job Howard, I knew you were paying attention! Now were the Frak™ are the rest of you?
"I have a lock on T-Rex10k. He's not moving, but it will still take us several hours to get there. The good news is we can stay on the highway all the way."
"Seeing as Brimstone has the most powerful weapon among us, was it wise to leave him behind like some road-kill, Howard?"
The cocky rooster blows a smoke ring and snaps his beak, remembering the mauling Brimstone gave him and thinking it's not that great of a loss.
Several hours pass until it becomes dark. Contining for an hour more, Geo motions off to your left toward the compound called Area 61. You see a small access road that leads to a large dark compound. It has a tall security fence like the Oad-Ck-Factory. Inside the 20-acre compound, you see about six large multi-story buildings. One is as tall as six stories. They are all painted black. You are stopped less than a half-mile away.
"I say, I say there, Howard my boy, how are we all gonna stroll into that place unnoticed? Do ya' have a plan of some sort? Or are you just winging it? I'm up for shooting my way in there, but if T-Rex is in there, then what do we do then, my duckward friend?"
"Well, my good Capthain," Howard begins, "Dukasth wasth the brainsth of thisth operation. In other wordsth, yesth, I'm justh wingin' it." The mutated duck takes a series of ganders (ouch) at the complex known as Area 61.
"Gallusth," he remembers, "you're tracking T-Rexth, right? Well, which way did he go?" Once he finds that out, Howard has no idea what he'll do next. He looks in the rear view mirror at the nervous face of Lamia, wondering what she's thinking about their next course of action.
Noticing Howard watching me, I smile and bat my eyes. "There is an air vent about six hundred yards off to our right in the desert which leads into the main building. I advise we take it Howard. You could even drive out to it!" Leaning forward, I rub down one of Howard's ruffled feathers back into place. I close my laptop and put it away.
"Yes, Howard, I have tracked T-Rex to the largest of the multiple buildings. The six story one." Gallus 5/13 points at the building with his eyes, since he has no arms, legs, or body with which to point.
Moving your armor to look at the wound, you find the cauterized wound is actually just a grazing shot. Suddenly you realize its not as bad as it could be.
Looking at his laser pistol one last time, K-11 puts it in its holster. His glowing eyes turn back toward you. "Yes I can deactivate the mobile emitter Jon. Just give me the word. Your plan seems to include a lot unusual variables which might or might nothappen. Should your haphazard plan fail, you will probably become Rex-10K's slave forever, as will we." Turning away from you, the K-11 security robot opens the door and steps out of the way to let you exit the room.
[After this post, The Great Website Holocaust™ of '00 occurred. --ed.]
Howard considers Lamia's suggestion. "Shure thing, let'sth get a little closther. Gallusth, Geo, keep your antennasth sthpinning looking out for the bad guysth." With that, Howard puts the dimmers on the grav-car's lumination and creeps forward to the entrance Lamia pointed out. He looks for some place to hide or stash the grav-car feeling they'll need the car for getaway purposes later.
Heading off the road into the desert, you circle the military complex to the right at a safe distance. Surprisingly, you enter a long-abandoned junkyard of semi's, 2-ton trucks, jeeps, and a large collection of other rusting combustion vehicles. You easily find a place to hide the grav-car (between two semi's with trailers). Leaving the grav-car, you walk the last 100 feet to a metal grate covering a concrete tunnel entrance.
Wild grass and scrubs have grown up around it, mostly concealing it.
"We have movement, Howard. Two grav-vehicles are coming this way. I detect no thermal heat, so they must be security robots on patrol, or robotic vehicles."
"I say, I say there, Howard, we best move our tail feathers!" Grabbing the grate, the strong rooster pulls it off.
You see a ladder going down into the darkness below.
"You know, Howard, this could also be a trap," I look towards the approaching vehicles and realize time is very limited. "We'll do whatever you decide."
I am asleep, adrift in an icy cold sea of dreams. In the middle of one particularly unpleasant nightmare (I think I am trapped like a fly in a block of amber) my consciousness is invaded as the shell of the prison that houses me cracks open.
I feel pain! My body feels like it is being pricked by a million needles as it thaws from the cold that has been its companion for... how many years? Scattered somewhere among the virtual pinpricks are real hypodermics which inject me with adrenaline and other substances designed to jump start my nervous system. I am dimly aware of two red lights shining like evil beacons somewhere above me.
When the pain has subsided and I have sufficient feeling in my limbs, I arise from my tomb and take in my surroundings. As I remembered, I am in the facility's cryogenics containment lab. Around me are several cold storage tubes much like the one from which I just emerged; however, most are cracked and broken. I can make out the skeletons of my vat-mates inside. The few that remain intact are open---there are no occupants within. The grief I feel for my dead family is interrupted by a metallic voice.
"<click, whirr> You are the entity designated as Jacob Gamma-Epsilon-19203-Code-Omega. You will retrieve your equipment and follow this unit." [This K-11 unit is not the same one who befriended Jonn. --ed.]
I look up and see a K-11 security robot standing by the equipment locker. Its glowing red eyes regard me with a baleful malevolence. "Get another patsy, Robbie," I reply, "Can't you see I'm in mourning here?"
"<click, click> You will do as this unit instructs, per security protocol X-673.11a, or face immediate termination."
Well, the rob' had the right codes, anyway. My sense of duty makes me swallow my grief and anger as I slowly open my equipment locker and begin to dress. I see one of my chemical grenades and briefly consider shoving it up Robbie's exhaust port, but I quickly veto the idea. The action would probably not hurt it and would only serve to get me geeked. I need to find out what has happened here.
When I am fully dressed and loaded for bear, I say, "OK, HAL, lead the way." We move to the security elevator. It presses the button and the door opens. The lighted panel shows that we are in the basement. As we step in and it presses the button marked six, the door closes. I say under my breath, "Sixth floor. Ladies' lingerie, men's haberdashery, and hardware. All out!" The door reopens, revealing....
[The groups have slightly swelled:
The K-11 unit looks at you with an odd humorless look that only a glowing-eyed robot can give.
"Do what I tell you to do, Jacob Gamma-Epsilon-19203-Code-Omega, and when I tell you to do it, and you will survive." Reaching out and grabbing you by the shirt, it pulls you close to its glowing red eyes. "I like you Jacob, don't make me terminate you <click, click>!"
As the door opens, the K-11 unit releases you and pushes you out ahead of him into the huge darkened maintenance bay filled with hundreds of robots of all sizes swarming about a very large warbot still sitting on an elevator lift pad (each robot has its own light source). As you approach the warbot, you see the windows along the entire left wall are black with dirt, save for one area where someone recently used their hand to clean a small area.
You see it is dark outside. You approach closer. The entire front of the warbot is open and you can see inside it. You see a small room with a captain's chair and thousands of brightly colored switches and controls. The huge warbot hums slightly.
"Hello, Jacob Gamma-Epsilon-19203-Code-Omega," says the warbot in a Hal-like voice. "You will assist the robots at their task Jacob, now!"
Here, our action continues with a different K-11 robot, somewhere else in the same building.
"You return to the warbot and I will go to the roof. Are you coming Jonn, or are you deleting something you shouldn't be?" The K-11 security robot seems edgy, as if something else is amiss.
Thinking to myself that whoever coded his diplomatic programming really FUBARed big time, I quietly reply, "But K-11, I'm not that kind of boy."
"Oh well," I mutter under my breath, "I guess I am that kind of boy." In a louder voice, I reply, "You woke me up from my beauty sleep for this? What's the date anyway? So whaddaya want me to do?"
Looking at you, it does not respond, but instead backs away from T-Rex, looking back toward the elevator you came up in.
"You have been sleeping since September 16th, 2309, Jake. It is now August 5th, 2471. Get up on top and help the robots with the welding!"
When you approach the warbot, one of its Pulse Lasers almost as big as your entire body (well over your head) turns suddenly and fires a single shot. The burst of heat from the laser gives you a slight sun burn and reduces the K-11 security robot to a pile of molten slag.
"Well," I think, "that was impressive." Obviously, something is very wrong here, as witnessed by the fact that I have yet to see another human being. Feeling discretion to be the better part of valor in this case, I scramble topside and take my torch from my toolbox. I try to note where the warbot's pulse lasers are located. If I can determine that there is a spot where they cannot reach then I try to do my welding there. I also try to recall what I know about warbots' control rooms.
This canned response just in from Yahoo re: our former club. Looks like we're outta luck. Oh well, like Jonn is fond of saying, "When the warbot makes a FineRedMist™ out of the mutant next to you, just shrug it off and keep running."
Dear Community Member,
Unfortunately, once a club is deleted, it is not possible to access that particular club. You may choose to create a new listed or unlisted club after reviewing Yahoo! Terms of Services.
Yahoo! Customer Care
I had sent Yahoo! the below request in response to their canned response to my initial query regarding the whereabouts of our former club.
Thank you for your reply,
I am an avid fan of Yahoo Clubs, and abide by the Yahoo! TOS. I was just made a moderator of the below former club (thegamaworldshellhole) before it was removed somehow on July 29-30, 2000. The club members put a lot of time and effort into the posts, as they were an ongoing story. These posts were not in violation of the Yahoo! TOS. If it is at all possible, can these posts be restored?
I appreciate your patience with me,
"Deleting stuff? Heck no! Rex-10K would be onto me faster than a nuke pooch who just found some road pizza. I'm just rifling through Ben's old offline messages from his sweetie. This guy saved every one!"
The security bot somehow emits an imperceptible aura of consternation. "Ok, ok, I'm moving." Jonn yanks out the CD with the warbot's command module blueprints, and powers down Ben's terminal, but not before a colorful image flashes across the display: "Smeghead!" Then the room is dark again, save for K-11's flashlight beam, illuminating the Brownian motion of millions of dust particles, and his softly glowing crimson orbs.
Despite the pain in his left shoulder, and before opening wide his rage faucet, Jonn thanks the selfless robot, "K-11, you give 'bot's a good name. May your duralloy never lose its luster, dude." He turns toward the door, stalls, then swivels back on his heels. "Oh, and if you see a robot bartender, mutant rooster and duck, a disembodied security drone, and a great-lookin' Gren lass, fill 'em in for me. They're backup."
Then he bursts out of the room and starts running toward the warbot hanger, a look of half-suicidal vengeance on his face as he works up his anger for the bluffing game ahead.
Knowing they have little time to act and believing they had already committed to their course of action, Howard speaks his mind. "We're goin' in." He nods to Leghorn in thanks for dismantling the grill, unstraps the needler from its shoulder strap and makes sure it is ready to fire. He flaps a bit to rise to the level of the grill and jumps in.
By the way, are his mutated hands at the ends of his wings or does he have limbs/hands as separate appendages from his wings? By the way, Howard's duck picture was zapped [in The Great Website Holocaust™ of '00 --ed.] so I found a poor substitute in the meantime---see Howie's profile.
A short, somewhat wizened-looking ruminantoid (Goatman) named Stramagix walks into the area, then taptaps his microphone. "Uhm, hello? I just joined this club, and unfortunately I no longer have the most recent version of Gamma World (my only copy is the original version), and was wondering if there was a way I could get a character made? Sorry for the inconvenience. I look forward to playing with you people."
I would say your (Howard's) hands are at the end of your wings, but it's really your choice. It just seems more duck-like to me. Exactly when is duck season?
You (Howard) easily float down into the darkness until you land on the hard concrete floor. All of your companions climb down the 20 foot distance. Captain Leghorn pulls the grate back into place before climbing down last. Once down, Geo turns his eye lights on and they light up the tunnel like two flashlights. As a group, you head down the tunnel together. The unremarkable 6 by 6 foot tunnel continues out of sight.
Breathing heavily from running, you (Jonn) slide to a stop in front of T-Rex-10K. You are surprised to see a real human male up on top of the warbot doing some welding. He pauses for a moment to look at you. You see he is a Caucasian about 1.8m tall, with a small wiry frame, thinning black hair going prematurely bald, face in permanent need of a shave and eyes that are solid black. He is wearing a black duster, hat, and clothing in various shades of black, white, and gray. He waves to you as if to say "Hi."
"Do you have the plans Jonn? Were you attempting to escape or were you influenced by the K-11 security robot? Answer me with a 'yes' or 'no,' Jonn. Don't force me to punish you."
When you climb up on top and begin your work as specified by the droids around you, you slowly move out of the area where you should be. When you do, a mini-rail gun raises up out of the warbot and points at you. You also realize it could reduce you to a fine red mist very easily. Feeling discretion to be the better part of valor in this case as well, you return to your work as specified. Minutes later a human male (not much different than yourself) comes running into the room and slides to a stop in front of the warbot. You wave at the man as T-Rex-10K begins talking to him. You also keep working.
Finding the microphone not connected to anything, you toss it aside and continue your trek inside the huge (40 by 80 ft) tunnel. You entered the San Matoe Tunnel about a day ago near the abandoned Albuquerque Starport, and for some reason, you just decided to follow it. Plus, it was a lot cooler inside the tunnel. The solar flashlight you carry strapped to your arm lights the way ahead of you as you walk. You've seen a few abandoned grav-cars, but nothing of value so far.
Jonn jerks his head in response to the humanoid atop the warbot. "Didn't take long for Rex-10K to replace me," he thinks acidly. Then he notices the welder's eery, featureless eyes. "Poor Rex musta run clean outta Pure Strain slaves."
Jonn answers the warbot angrily, "Yes, no and frak no! The sneaky bastard knocked me out and winged me." He raises the file and CD in his right hand, favoring his left shoulder. "I did get your file though. It contained this CD."
This page updated: Mon Jan 09 14:22:17 2006
All text Copyright ©1999-2006 PBPArchives.