Simple Battleborn Role Play Thread


(Junk Male ) #82

Ernest: I mean, ehhhhhh… we could just try something smaller. Like sub-light cannon rounds or some sh*t. He holds his claws about a foot apart and squints. Yeeeeaaaah, I reckon those’d be big enough for a decent sized payload, and we definitely have more than 54 of 'em…


(Benedict's Glorious Wingspan) #83

NOVA:
I don’t recall authorizing any use of my ordinance for experiments.

BENEDICT:
I DON’T RECALL GIVIN’ YOU AUTHORITY TO TELL ME WHAT I CAN AN’ CAN’T DO!

NOVA:
Damn. Well… it looks I’ve done all I can do to try to stop you.

BENEDICT:
Alright… how about we use the sub-light cannon rounds for the initial tests, then whichever one burns the coolest we fire off in the space to surface missile? At Duston, cuz that place is a dumpster fire anyway.


(Junk Male ) #84

Ernest: Works for me. Munitions-making-montage-music please Nova!


(Kain Zilla) #85

“While the Aviant contribution to the fight against Rendain and the Varelsi cannot be measured (though it pains me to think that you did not, in fact, attempt to measure it and subsequently provide a bill for service to Captain Ghalt), it is rather a shame that there are no owls amongst the number present”


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #86

Toby Waddles up while still reading the porno magazine.

Owls are arrogant JERKS!! They think they know everything just because they’re up all night studying…


(Super Badass Constructor ) #87

All of a sudden, a Minion Robotics Blade Bot walks into the room and executes some sick ass karate moves.


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #88

Toby assumes the “Flipper-Fist” martial arts stance that exists solely in Finisci culture. It’s laughably ineffective and is composed entirely of diffrent slap techniques.

YOU BRING DISHONOR INTO THIS DOJO!!


(Super Badass Constructor ) #89

The Blade Bot puts its blade tips to its hips and chirps out a sassy series of beeps, and then proceeds to execute another series of sick ass karate moves


#90

Hey Toby, want me to show you a trick to quickly shut down those bots? But let me ask first: Can you build robot suits for Magnusses?

This is by the way totally not Nova asking these questions, it’s … uhm … Oscar Mike’s diary.


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #91

Sorry, Nova… Kleese and Phoebe forbade me to make you a robot suit or fiddle with your Magnus core… It’s a shame too, because you Magnusses are REALLY cool, a-and I’d love to take one of you apart and see how you work!


(PSN: SirWalrusCrow) #92

“Are you sure that is what you would like Toby? We were once boundless. Forever distant, yet always close to ourselves. We stretched over acres one cannot comprehend. When the Jennerit invaded our home, us, we had to restructure not only our body, but our mind. They scorched the land beneath upon which we used to live, so we had to adapt. Move. We could not stay. We had allies we could trust, the Eldrid. To make them, and others, more sympathetic towards us, we set out to form ourselves into a humanoid. An anthropomorphic entity. No being of such size could possibly contain all the knowledge which had been brought upon us throughout the eras of peace. So to advance our evolution, we had to lobotomise ourselves. Now we are here. Voids in our mind. Unblossomed beauty. Almost all of which we once built up is now lost.”

Miko kneels down to Toby, placing their elbow on their knee. They slightly lowers their voice.

“Much like us, Nova is a hive mind. We were biological, she is mechanical. To make her a suit, she would need to lose parts of her mind. You, would have to remove them. You, would have to dictate what she will know. Is that something you are willing to do? Is that something you are ready to do?”


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #93

Umm, I-I mean… M-Maybe if I, uh…

Hangs head.

No… Sorry… You don’t hate me now, do you, Miko…?


(PSN: SirWalrusCrow) #94

“We do not hate you. You are a wise being. Cherish your knowledge, pursue the unknown. But Nova, she is a being. She is living. You do not want to ‘take one of them apart and see how they work’. To explore the Magnuses, their history, their construction; search for the origin. Not their deepest of minds. Not their life.


(Benedict's Glorious Wingspan) #95

Benedict’s personal vlog on Facebird goes live. He appears wearing black framed glasses while a grimacing Ernest looks on from the background.

BENEDICT:
Welcome to Factbusters! Tonight on Factbusters… Ernest… leave the g****mm beret ON… it’s important for yer brandin’… we all know cheapo deodorant an’ the LLC’s patented, copyrighted, trademarked Red Collar Coffee make amazin’ incendiaries. But which one burns the best when we fire it from a rocket? Well tonight, we’re gonna find out. We got ourselves 54 sub-light cannon rounds an’ we’re gonna testin’ every combination of deodorant an’ coffee to see which one lights up an’ burns the best. Here in our lab we got all these scientific instruments includin’ a wide angle lens, a slo-mo camera, an’ a thing that goes “boop.”

A sock puppet covered in strings of Solus Day lights appears, and Orendi’s voice can be heard singing “boop” as it wanders aimlessly around the room.

BENEDICT:
Holy sh*t that’s scientific. Now don’t worry, we ain’t gonna fire it at any planets that matter. We’re firin’ it at Duston… a small moon which is a dumpster fire anyway.

The sock puppet slams into a pole and Orendi pops into frame in the background screaming.

ORENDI:
OWWWWWWW!!! I DON’T WANNA SCIENCE ANYMORE!!!

She runs from the room screaming and kissing her boo boo.

BENEDICT:
Holy sh*t that’s too much science even for our “boop” machine! Now first we’re gonna test a combination of Southwind Fresh an’ decaffi—

NOVA:
Incoming transmission from the Society of Aviant Doyens: Flightless Assignment Cadre Executives.

BENEDICT:
I don’t care! I’m doin’ a podcast here…

NOVA:
You don’t have a choice.

A finisci appears on the screen.

BENEDICT:
What the f**k do ya want?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
Augustus Benedict, the LLC, SADFACE…

BENEDICT:
SADFACE?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
F**k you. The LLC…

BENEDICT:
Ahahahahaha… ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha… SADFACE…

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
The LLC, our organization…

BENEDICT:
Called “SADFACE” aheh… aheheheheh…

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
OH GREAT EAGLE SHUT THE F**K UP!!! The LLC, our organization, and the Eldrid science council are ordering an immediate cease and desist on your plans to napalm the planetoid of Duston.

BENEDICT:
It’s a moon.

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
It’s not orbiting a planet, dumbass…

BENEDICT:
"Moon" can also refer to a small solar system body that doesn’t orbit a larger body. I looked it up! What kind of half assed scientist do ya take me for here?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
YOU USED F**KING PICKLEPEDIA!!! A FREE DATASITE THAT CAN BE EDITED BY ANYONE!!! THERE’S NO LEGITIMATE SCIENTIFIC BASIS FOR THAT STATEMENT!!!

BENEDICT:
See that? That’s how ya piss off nerds. Now… get off the damn screen. I wanna see the slow-mo camera when I blow this sucker…

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
THERE WILL BE NO BLOWING OF SUCKERS! We have a legal cease and desist order preventing your actions.

BENEDICT:
Yeah, I ain’t threatened by a little piece of paper…

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
This piece of paper gives the LLC and the Eldrid legal authority over this matter! The detonation of harmful incendiaries into the atmosphere of Duston will release harmful fleourotoxins that will interfere with our efforts to terraform…

BENEDICT:
Hold up… yer terraformin’ that sh*thole? Why?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
We…

BENEDICT:
Who the f**k is gonna want to live on Duston?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
We already have over 6,000 finisci refugees relocated to the planet.

Another finisci comes in and whispers in her ear. She sighs and looks down sadly.

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
5,892 now. We… we just lost a colonization team in a fatal trashit attack.

BENEDICT:
Uh-huh… and you chose Duston… why again?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WANTED IT!!!

BENEDICT:
Gotcha. Because yer pathetic.

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
I AM NOT PATHETIC!!!

BENEDICT:
Yer losers, an’ yer pathetic, which is why ya run an organization called “SADFACE” an’ yer colonizin’ a sh*t planet.

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
Just… leave Duston alone…

BENEDICT:
Compromise. How about I napalm the trashit nests from orbit, and not the mountains of dirty diapers an’ toxic waste?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
Uh…

The other finisci whispers in her ear again.

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
That… that would be acceptable PROVIDED you use EXACTLY the explosive yields needed to take out trashit nests without burning the surrounding resource mounds.

BENEDICT:
The f**k is a resource mound?

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
It… it… it’s… it’s a pile of trash, ok? But our research indicates that calling them “resource mounds” is better for morale than calling them “trash piles.” We’re trying to maintain a POSITIVE ATTITUDE!

BENEDICT:
Which is why ya call yer organization “SADFACE.”

HEAD RESEARCHER DELPHINIA:
Oh shut the f**k up and napalm the trashits already!

The transmission cuts out.

BENEDICT:
Well sh*t. I’ve gotta use traditional incendiaries instead of deodorant an’ coffee. BUT I CAN STILL NAPALM THE F**K OUT OF THINGS WHICH MEANS WE STILL GOT A SHOW!!! WOO!!! TO MUNITIONS STORAGE!!!


(Junk Male ) #96

Ernest watches from his newly Factbusters-labelled deckchair as Benedict runs from the room, then throws his beret after him and grabs a cannon round from the pile nearby.

Ernest: Alright ladies and gentlebirds, by all means try this at home. Seriously, try it. I got a bet riding on how many people I can convince to blow something up using household products, and I guarantee you’ll want to, because this is gonna be awesome.

Ernest grabs a hammer and gives the top of the shell a whack, then pulls off the casing tip and dumps out the payload.

Ernest: So, anatomy of ya sub-light pews: That bit’s the payload, what makes the cool fiery blue orb we all know and love. Bit I hammered is the tip, what keeps the payload from gettin’… hehe… prematurely detonated. He snickers. This bit back here’s just the rail stabilizers, which get it spinnin’ while the 'lectromagnets crank up the velocity afore it leaves the rails. That’s why we love railguns, see? Ya don’t even need a propellant, so ya got more room for tha boom.

Ernest hops out of his chair and wanders over to a nearby table, where he grabs a paper cup of coffee and chucks it - cup and all - into the shell where the payload was.

Ernest: Aight, now the fun begins. 'cause I measured it perfectly - here he takes a mocking bow - this fits right perfect.

He grabs a can of deodorant out the duffel bag spilled onto the floor and slides it gently down into the shell. The can fits perfectly snugly inside the tritanium casing with just the nozzle poking out, which Ernest whacks off with his hammer.

Ernest: Now we just chuck the tip back on, give it a whack, and tah-dah! We got ourselves the Instant Creamer Mk. 1. Ya’ll better f*cking like that name, because I spent 10 minutes thinking that up.

Ernest wanders over to a turret conveniently mounted by the nearby wall and toggles the hardlight field, maintaining an airtight seal whilst allowing projectiles to pass through, out of the ship and into space. He disconnects the main ammunition supply belt, cracks open the breech and racks the modified cannon round into it, before slamming it shut. Ernest then hops onto the seat and wiggles the joysticks with a practiced flick of the claw, aiming with an enhanced zoom optic towards Duston.

Ernest: O-kay, let’s find ourselves a Trashit. A pause. And whaddaya know, there’s one right there. Almost like the planet’s literally covered in the damn things. Easy shot. Watch closely, now!

Ernest fires and the turret rocks with the recoil, whining as the rails begin to recharge. A few moments later and a large, brownish fireball is visible on the digitally magnified image of Duston, blooming nicely out from the point of impact and enveloping the surrounding “Resource Mounds”.

Ernest: Oh dear. He turns and winks at the camera. Don’t think I was supposed to do that.


(Benedict's Glorious Wingspan) #97

Benedict runs back in carrying an armload of regular incendiary munitions.

BENEDICT:
Alright, so for a targeted strike we’re gonna need…

He notices the giant fireball pluming from the surface of Duston.

BENEDICT:
Awwwwwwwwwwww… F*CK!!!

He drops the munitions and folds his arms.

BENEDICT:
Did ya at least get it with the slow mo cam?


(Junk Male ) #98

Ernest: Yeah, 'course I did! Can’t miss the best bits!

Uhhh… That was where I was 'sposed to be aiming, right? It looked like one of those ugly f*ckers… I dunno. Wasn’t paying much attention to what the Finisci chick said.


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #99

Lowers Finisci porno magazine.

She was pretty…

Just not pretty enough to live on a moon-sized dumpster ball with her…

Raises Finisci porno magazine.


(Junk Male ) #100

Ernest nods sagely. Good man. Standards. Keep 'em. He squints at the porno mag. But taste on the other hand…


(Not a "Li'l Assbirb!") #101

In our culture, putting on clothes is hot. SHUT UP, IT’S NOT STUPID OR WEIRD!!