"We're on final approach," came a voice from the cockpit. "Touchdown in ten, better strap in, might get bumpy." Lost in thought Wade barely registered the recommendation before the first wave of turbulent atmosphere gripped the ship. What in the world had happened down there, he wondered. Querent was one of the most promising graduates of the academy, a shining gem of the Federated Union. How could a fresh squad led by her have gone silent on a simple deployment for maneuvers?
Calling up his mini-comm's neural link he directly called up all the information he could to re-brief himself. A four-member squad had been deployed here consisting of Querent, Jeffers, Farrow, and Everett. All decent enough pilots, according to the records. Jeffers file showed a some low marks, but had been personally attested by his instructors as having the heart needed to be the core of a squad with some experience he should prove to be a valuable soldier.
Farrow's own record marked his somewhat reckless use of excessive force and lack of self control. However it also hailed him for an impressive knack for manually coordinating attacks against multiple targets.. And then there was Everett, a bit withdrawn and callous but his final review showed evidence of his own leadership potential. With some experience and a little guidance he should of been more than capable of growing into an excellent second in command. Perhaps even coming into a command of his own.
Her first command, Querent had only just been assigned the squad shortly before shipped out. Every score, every evaluation exemplary, the only thing unusual in her file was the mecha she had selected. It was a quadruped unit, designed for mobility, favored by scouts and often modified by artillery and support teams for it's improved capacity for mounting weapons not normally found on chassis of it's size. However it didn't possess any manipulator arms, and only could of relied on structurally mounted hard points. Something about that puzzled Wade, it wasn't anything most graduates of the academy would of been familiar with piloting. But from Querent's records she wasn't an average pilot, and yet that unit was rated for multiple operators. As the squad's leader and it's tactical officer, it made sense for her to consider a mobile mecha for her combat role, even one with weapons to allow her to supplement her squad's firepower. But how could even she manage to pilot a mecha like that at full efficiency?
Deployed along with the squad was a second ship with a full compliment of combat drones. Automated with pre-landing mission parameters they should have activated and engaged the squad in a series of practice skirmishes. For some reason though, their beacons activated and then cutoff. The last detected transmissions were from the drones' ship's log marking a command authorized altering to their parameters. No other transmissions, not even the squad's beacons were active. So now, ordered to go down with the pickup team, Wade was reroute. With eyes closed all he could do was wonder, what waited for him down there, and who would come for him if a similar fate awaited him.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Agent of Faith - Part 4.
Cloaked in silence, Corinthia Grael's somber steps carried her forward to a knot of palatable tension. Confusion plainly written on their faces, they stared at her as they fought to grasp at some measure of understanding. What could this tiny figure clad in chrome and bearing nothing more than some blade really think she could accomplish? Surely the New Republic did not think they could placate them with some little girl.
Politely, Grael spoke in soft, hushed tones as if addressing a frightened child. "Excuse me," she whispered, and without thought the tight ring of men parted slightly to allow her access to a gruff and stern figure standing in their midst. In his hands was a makeshift bomb, his brow dripping with sweat. Eyes dark as coal bored into her, and she welcomed them with her own. Nervously his gaze darted away to scan about as he shifted his stance. Something about his behavior tugged at the back of Corinthia's mind. Desperate and misguided this man might be, but he bore all the hallmarks of someone terrified.
Maintaining her veiled demeanor, Grael began to calculate what she could from the man before her. He was willing to threaten soldiers of the New Republic, even willing to hold a bomb. But was he willing to sacrifice his own life, or that of innocent civilians all around him? Unknown to the troops in the distance, Grael made careful note of the man's finger- it wasn't even resting on the trigger. That lead Agent Grael to only one conclusion; this man was afraid to die, and therefore afraid of the very thing he wielded as leverage.
Standing in the midst of the tightly clustered group of dissident colonists, Grael flushed a deep rose-purple. Their guard lowered, it took several breaths before understanding caught up with what they were seeing. Her voice rang out loud and echoing; "The New Republic always keeps a promise. And this one I am here to deliver; For loss of faith and defiance your lives are forfeit!" With a deep roar Grael drew forth her chain-blade and swung it across in an arc to cleanly sever the bomb from the hands that held it. Letting the momentum carry her she pulled her blade into a spin and ripped into those that surrounded her. Violently men fell in bloody heaps as soldiers watched on, many standing in shock and lost as to what action to take. Those who had yet to feel the bite of her blade tried to bring their own guns and weapons to bear against her, but without the threat of the bomb their morale faltered before the brutal and savage display that had so suddenly gripped them.
As reality slammed back home, soldiers opened fire, sending the rest of the rebellious forces to their ends. Whimpering at her feet, a crumpled figure sat without hands to look up at her beseechingly. "We only sought to regain the support the New Republic used to provide. Please, we never meant for this."
"And yet you would deny others your own support? Your greed has corrupted you. Behold the cost of your actions." As teary eyes took in one last view of carnage that surrounded him, the final sound he heard was a humming buzz.
Politely, Grael spoke in soft, hushed tones as if addressing a frightened child. "Excuse me," she whispered, and without thought the tight ring of men parted slightly to allow her access to a gruff and stern figure standing in their midst. In his hands was a makeshift bomb, his brow dripping with sweat. Eyes dark as coal bored into her, and she welcomed them with her own. Nervously his gaze darted away to scan about as he shifted his stance. Something about his behavior tugged at the back of Corinthia's mind. Desperate and misguided this man might be, but he bore all the hallmarks of someone terrified.
Maintaining her veiled demeanor, Grael began to calculate what she could from the man before her. He was willing to threaten soldiers of the New Republic, even willing to hold a bomb. But was he willing to sacrifice his own life, or that of innocent civilians all around him? Unknown to the troops in the distance, Grael made careful note of the man's finger- it wasn't even resting on the trigger. That lead Agent Grael to only one conclusion; this man was afraid to die, and therefore afraid of the very thing he wielded as leverage.
Standing in the midst of the tightly clustered group of dissident colonists, Grael flushed a deep rose-purple. Their guard lowered, it took several breaths before understanding caught up with what they were seeing. Her voice rang out loud and echoing; "The New Republic always keeps a promise. And this one I am here to deliver; For loss of faith and defiance your lives are forfeit!" With a deep roar Grael drew forth her chain-blade and swung it across in an arc to cleanly sever the bomb from the hands that held it. Letting the momentum carry her she pulled her blade into a spin and ripped into those that surrounded her. Violently men fell in bloody heaps as soldiers watched on, many standing in shock and lost as to what action to take. Those who had yet to feel the bite of her blade tried to bring their own guns and weapons to bear against her, but without the threat of the bomb their morale faltered before the brutal and savage display that had so suddenly gripped them.
As reality slammed back home, soldiers opened fire, sending the rest of the rebellious forces to their ends. Whimpering at her feet, a crumpled figure sat without hands to look up at her beseechingly. "We only sought to regain the support the New Republic used to provide. Please, we never meant for this."
"And yet you would deny others your own support? Your greed has corrupted you. Behold the cost of your actions." As teary eyes took in one last view of carnage that surrounded him, the final sound he heard was a humming buzz.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Agent of Faith - Part 3.
Fury-filled, Corinthia Grael exhausted her drop pack's fuel supply as she let her own determination to drive her. The situation awaiting her was a simple one; a small bad of locals had manage to get an explosive device near a New Republic drop ship. Their threat was simple; do as they said or they would detonate their bomb. And if they did that, Grael was sure the drop ships munitions, not to mention itself would also detonate. Or worse, if they managed to get control of the ship and the supplemental arms it carried they could escalate this riot into a full blown conflict. No, she had to end this, and fast.
As he approached the scene, she released the spent drop pack from her back and took a moment to survey the situation. A small band of locals were tightly grouped together near the drop ships open rear hatch. Laying at their feet were the bloody remains of what appeared to be the ship's pilot, a clear answer to why the drop ship hadn't taken off to avoid just this situation. Spaced out behind cover a handful of New Republic soldiers had taken up position, their weapons trained on the rebellious colonists.
"Let's talk about this," an officer pleaded. "We're prepared to negotiate and try to resolve this, but you have to deactivate that bomb first." A voice rang out from the little clump of colonists, angry and coarse. "The New Republic has never kept it's word, we cannot trust you, or them!"
Careful to keep her composure, Grael stepped forward and tried her most demure demeanor she could manage. "As an official Agent of the New Republic I am authorized and can assure you that that statement is incorrect." Her tone, quiet and clear as she risked a short step forward. "If I may, I would like to speak with you in hopes of resolving any grievance you ma have."
Nodding their consent, Grael moved forward slowly. To their eyes a single lady with only a chain-blade seemed little risk. They could always use her as additional leverage. Calling for her to pause a soldier touched her shoulder and whispered; "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Her answer was automatic, like a trained reflex; "Have faith."
As he approached the scene, she released the spent drop pack from her back and took a moment to survey the situation. A small band of locals were tightly grouped together near the drop ships open rear hatch. Laying at their feet were the bloody remains of what appeared to be the ship's pilot, a clear answer to why the drop ship hadn't taken off to avoid just this situation. Spaced out behind cover a handful of New Republic soldiers had taken up position, their weapons trained on the rebellious colonists.
"Let's talk about this," an officer pleaded. "We're prepared to negotiate and try to resolve this, but you have to deactivate that bomb first." A voice rang out from the little clump of colonists, angry and coarse. "The New Republic has never kept it's word, we cannot trust you, or them!"
Careful to keep her composure, Grael stepped forward and tried her most demure demeanor she could manage. "As an official Agent of the New Republic I am authorized and can assure you that that statement is incorrect." Her tone, quiet and clear as she risked a short step forward. "If I may, I would like to speak with you in hopes of resolving any grievance you ma have."
Nodding their consent, Grael moved forward slowly. To their eyes a single lady with only a chain-blade seemed little risk. They could always use her as additional leverage. Calling for her to pause a soldier touched her shoulder and whispered; "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Her answer was automatic, like a trained reflex; "Have faith."
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Agent of Faith - Part 2.
On the ground, New Republic troops were scattered about in small clusters, pinned down by armed rioters. Most of them, troops without experience, dispatched to handle what was believed to be a minor band of rioting miners. Instead they found armed locals, who proved willing to use deadly force. As a result, several had died, and the rest looked on, helplessly trapped by gunfire they couldn't locate. While they watched a local thug screaming insults at a wounded soldier and punctuated them with brutal blows from a pipe.
Blood streaming down the side of his face from an open wound, his vision blurred, Cadeel looked up from the ground at his attacker and knew his end was near. In the sky, a vague shimmering form descended, reminding him of childhood tales he had heard of warrior angels. Closing his eyes, Cadeel was certain this had to be what death held for him.
Landing behind the injured soldier, Grael could feel all eyes turn to watch her sudden arrival. Twisting her grip on the chain-blade she felt it spring to life, it's chain edge spinning with a deadly buzz. Cadeel's eyes ripped open to see a face, as it's color intensified to a burning deep rose hue. "Behold," her voice rang out firm and resolute. "The consequence for all those who would betray the New Republic!" In one fluid slash her blade ripped into the rioter's flesh and chewed across his back from hip to shoulder, splattering gore.
Shaken by the sudden and violent attack, rioters hesitantly opened fire only to find their shots ill aimed or ineffective against the gleaming hardsuit's advanced armor. Standing over the wounded Cadeel, Grael held her blade aloft and roared aloud. "Attend brave defenders of the glorious New Republic, look upon the might of faith and uphold your duty! Let us deal with these cowards," triggering her drop pack Grael raced forward with a burst of speed to fly at another armed rioter. "Attack!" She ordered as her lightning fast charge found her target thrown off guard as she severed his arm from his body. His weapon still firing briefly as it left him before falling silent.
Bolstered by Grael's actions, the scattered New Republic troops sprang to action, unleashing cover fire and seizing the rioters own moment of panic. Regrouping, they covered Cadeel and a medic rushed to his side to tend his wounds. Burning like a beacon in the chaos, Corinthia Grael darted about striking out with both claw and blade. A wave of terror spread among the rioters of Bernal II, as Grael directed troops and continually appeared to devastate even those who tried to hide.
As the steady sound of gunfire slowly surrendered itself to silence, Grael found herself looking on the New Republic troops as they managed to apprehend the few survivors. They didn't seem the same soldiers, her presence had lifted their morale and inspired them with her own faith. Filled with satisfaction, she silently thanked the New Republic for allowing her to act as it's agent.
Interrupting her reverie, an alert chirped from her hardsuit, and immediately displayed itself over her field of vision. Apparently, there were others here on Bernal II that had lost their faith in the New Republic. They would soon regret that, Corinthia assured herself.
Blood streaming down the side of his face from an open wound, his vision blurred, Cadeel looked up from the ground at his attacker and knew his end was near. In the sky, a vague shimmering form descended, reminding him of childhood tales he had heard of warrior angels. Closing his eyes, Cadeel was certain this had to be what death held for him.
Landing behind the injured soldier, Grael could feel all eyes turn to watch her sudden arrival. Twisting her grip on the chain-blade she felt it spring to life, it's chain edge spinning with a deadly buzz. Cadeel's eyes ripped open to see a face, as it's color intensified to a burning deep rose hue. "Behold," her voice rang out firm and resolute. "The consequence for all those who would betray the New Republic!" In one fluid slash her blade ripped into the rioter's flesh and chewed across his back from hip to shoulder, splattering gore.
Shaken by the sudden and violent attack, rioters hesitantly opened fire only to find their shots ill aimed or ineffective against the gleaming hardsuit's advanced armor. Standing over the wounded Cadeel, Grael held her blade aloft and roared aloud. "Attend brave defenders of the glorious New Republic, look upon the might of faith and uphold your duty! Let us deal with these cowards," triggering her drop pack Grael raced forward with a burst of speed to fly at another armed rioter. "Attack!" She ordered as her lightning fast charge found her target thrown off guard as she severed his arm from his body. His weapon still firing briefly as it left him before falling silent.
Bolstered by Grael's actions, the scattered New Republic troops sprang to action, unleashing cover fire and seizing the rioters own moment of panic. Regrouping, they covered Cadeel and a medic rushed to his side to tend his wounds. Burning like a beacon in the chaos, Corinthia Grael darted about striking out with both claw and blade. A wave of terror spread among the rioters of Bernal II, as Grael directed troops and continually appeared to devastate even those who tried to hide.
As the steady sound of gunfire slowly surrendered itself to silence, Grael found herself looking on the New Republic troops as they managed to apprehend the few survivors. They didn't seem the same soldiers, her presence had lifted their morale and inspired them with her own faith. Filled with satisfaction, she silently thanked the New Republic for allowing her to act as it's agent.
Interrupting her reverie, an alert chirped from her hardsuit, and immediately displayed itself over her field of vision. Apparently, there were others here on Bernal II that had lost their faith in the New Republic. They would soon regret that, Corinthia assured herself.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Agent of Faith - Part 1.
The small colony world of Bernal II had known nothing but hardship since it's settlement. It's inhabitants, hard working miners and terraformers that struggled desperately to forge it into a habitable world and earn from it it's rich mineral resources. But when recent delivers of supplies and much needed government support ended, the people of Bernal II rose up in revolt and used the only leverage they had; their minerals and their meager taxes. Even now, rioters fought New Republic troops in the streets, while a armored drop ship hovered over head.
Surveying the scene below was the slight form touched with a feline grace of Corinthia Grael, altain agent of the New Republic. She stood half leaning out the open rear hatch, her keen pale eyes of pink quartz taking in every detail. Gleaming chrome encased her every curve like a second skin, a high tech hardsuit that she had managed to acquire through use of her standard political favors. A complex currency all it’s own, but the results always proved to be beneficial to Grael.
Hefting up from beside her she checked a vicious looking blade, it’s edge made up of a series of chain that came to life at the handle’s command to chew through near anything. A favorite weapon of hers’, she adored her chain-blade, to the point she shunned almost any other weapon. Instead she preferred the thrill of close combat, even deemed the use of firearms cowardly to her. After completing her checks, she felt satisfied and allowed herself to be interrupted from her thoughts.
“Excuse me, Ma’m, but I really don’t see what you aim to accomplish here. I mean what can you do here that the troops on the ground cannot?” Looking up, Grael locked eyes with a young officer, concern clearly etched into his brow. Calm, her tone reserved as if her very words were a recital of scripture, Grael spoke. Her eyes almost alight with an intensity. “Do you not have faith in guiding light of our New Republic?” She asked him, pausing to let a moment of silence emphasis her point.
“But, your just one person, Ma’m,” his rebuttal quivered slightly as his own voice faltered slightly. The conflict below showed in him as it gripped at his young mind. “If you have not faith in a single agent of our great New Republic,” she began. “Then have faith in the glory it has created, and the righteousness of our cause. These misguided souls have strayed from the path. They seek to cast themselves from our number and if left to do so will surely fall. It is up to us to return them to the truth, to show them they’re error. I may be but one, but I am the spear of faith, the guiding wisdom to light our troop.”
Her ashen gray-white skin started to glow, slowly turning to a muted rose as she keyed on a drop pack and set it to standby. “Believe,” she whispered in a hushed tone full of emotion. And then, with chain-blade in hand she leaped from the open hatch to be carried down into battle, slowed by the roar of the drop pack as it cushioned her decent. Pure dedication burning inside her, blazing with the resolve of unwavering faith.
Surveying the scene below was the slight form touched with a feline grace of Corinthia Grael, altain agent of the New Republic. She stood half leaning out the open rear hatch, her keen pale eyes of pink quartz taking in every detail. Gleaming chrome encased her every curve like a second skin, a high tech hardsuit that she had managed to acquire through use of her standard political favors. A complex currency all it’s own, but the results always proved to be beneficial to Grael.
Hefting up from beside her she checked a vicious looking blade, it’s edge made up of a series of chain that came to life at the handle’s command to chew through near anything. A favorite weapon of hers’, she adored her chain-blade, to the point she shunned almost any other weapon. Instead she preferred the thrill of close combat, even deemed the use of firearms cowardly to her. After completing her checks, she felt satisfied and allowed herself to be interrupted from her thoughts.
“Excuse me, Ma’m, but I really don’t see what you aim to accomplish here. I mean what can you do here that the troops on the ground cannot?” Looking up, Grael locked eyes with a young officer, concern clearly etched into his brow. Calm, her tone reserved as if her very words were a recital of scripture, Grael spoke. Her eyes almost alight with an intensity. “Do you not have faith in guiding light of our New Republic?” She asked him, pausing to let a moment of silence emphasis her point.
“But, your just one person, Ma’m,” his rebuttal quivered slightly as his own voice faltered slightly. The conflict below showed in him as it gripped at his young mind. “If you have not faith in a single agent of our great New Republic,” she began. “Then have faith in the glory it has created, and the righteousness of our cause. These misguided souls have strayed from the path. They seek to cast themselves from our number and if left to do so will surely fall. It is up to us to return them to the truth, to show them they’re error. I may be but one, but I am the spear of faith, the guiding wisdom to light our troop.”
Her ashen gray-white skin started to glow, slowly turning to a muted rose as she keyed on a drop pack and set it to standby. “Believe,” she whispered in a hushed tone full of emotion. And then, with chain-blade in hand she leaped from the open hatch to be carried down into battle, slowed by the roar of the drop pack as it cushioned her decent. Pure dedication burning inside her, blazing with the resolve of unwavering faith.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Primer - Gadgets
"Where does he get all those wonderful toys?"
The answer for a technician is simple; they make it. One of the key features of the technician class is their ability to hobble together rough devices out of parts on hand for short term use. As a testament to my own belief that anything magical can become sci-fi through a simple spin on it's description, I thought I might share a selection of possible gadgets technicians can make based on arcane spells from the d20 SRD. Let me know what you think, and if you have some ideas(or challenges) don't hesitate to let me know.
*Note - Virtually any arcane(or any kind of) spell can be converted into a device in some way through flavor. If you don't see an adequate gadget listed feel free to look up a spell and it can then be quickly converted into service.
0 Level
Illumination Emitter; This simple little gadget is an easily rigged and useful device among Technicians. Once crafted it'll run for about 10 minutes per Technician level on it's power source. It sheds light outwards in a 20 foot radius and dim light outwards in an additional 20 foot radius.
Minor Anti Gravity Projector; A simple rod capable of projecting a short and low powered anti-gravity tractor beam this device allows a Technician to grasp a light weight object(up to 5 pounds) and move it. It's maximum range is 25 feet + 5 feet per every 2 Technician levels. The projector will only function so long as the Technician actively maintains it's use. Once disengaged it ceases function, requiring a constant operation in order to maintain it's power sources recycle rate.
Power Scanner; A small and easy to assemble meter this device can detect other Tech objects based on their power source and allows analysis of the power sources strength and some other qualities. It has an effective range of 60 feet and can operate for up to 1 minute per level but requires a Technician to focus on it's use.
Acidic Derringer; A simple one shot firearm this close range(25 feet + 5 feet per every 2 levels)weapon delivers a small dosage of improvised acid in a condensed ball. It deals 1d3 points of damage.
Code Analyzer; Technicians focusing on security penetration and generalized security both make great use of code analyzers. With these gadgets a Technician can analyze large segments of code rushing through a device, terminal or piece of software. A Technician may analyze and understand up to 250 words per minute even if the code language isn't known to them. Furthermore a Code Analyzer can detect trip commands with a DC 13 Knowledge(Technology) check, a greater trip command with a DC 16, or any other command with a DC 10 + Implanters level. An analyzer will only function for up to 10 minutes per level.
1st Level
Door Jam; A Technician learns over time to utilize simple makeshift devices in order to affect more complex devices like door remote systems. At a distance of 100 feet + 10 feet per level the Technician can close and temporarily override the doors open command. A door so jammed will remain so for 1 minute per level and will have it's DC's to open increased by 5. A Technician can only jam a door of up to 20 square feet per level.
Holo Projector(Fear); This little gem will generate a horrific holo-projection capable of frightening anyone who approaches within 25 feet plus 5 feet per every 2 Technician levels. The quality of the projection though will only affect creatures of 5 HD or lower and only for up to 1d4 rounds. Targets may make a will save to disregard the hologram. Creatures affected become frightened. If they make their Will save they are shaken for 1 round. The device will generally only function until it is interrupted by someone passing over it(i.e. making their will save and continuing on).
Universal Translator; A marvel among marvels this device can translate spoken or written text from any language into an understandable one and vice versa. The translator can only function for up to 10 minutes per level and only affects the Technician or person wielding it. Text can be translated at approximately 250 words per minute. Code or images cannot be translated.
Cart; A Technician can even build a simple make-shift cart to transport him or her around for short times. It will function for up to 2 hours per level and can carry the Technician and up to one other person or small amount of gear and will move at a speed of approximately 60 feet.
Micro Shield Generator: This device projects a riot shield size disk of force in front of you. It negates force blasts directed at you as well as providing you with a +4 shield bonus to AC. The Micro Shield Generator will function for one minute per technician level.
Inferno gloves; A single use gadget this little gem sprays a burst of flame 15 feet from the wielders hand. This causes 1d4 damage per every 2 Technician levels to a max of 5d4. A reflex save may be made to reduce the damage in half. Combustible materials will ignite if they are in the area and any character may attempt to extinguish themselves or objects as a full round action.
2nd Level -
Acid Blaster; The acid blaster is a compressed improvised acid launcher capable of launching a condensed burst of acid 400 +40 feet per level. The acid itself deals 2d4 points of damage and no splash damage. For every three technician levels (to a maximum of 18th), the acid, unless somehow neutralized, lasts for another round, dealing another 2d4 points of damage in that round.
Illumination Negator; This object radiates shadowy illumination out to 20 feet that absorbs all light, granting all creatures within this area a 20% miss chance do to concealment. No device of lower level is capable of penetrating this devices anti-illumination effects, not even common porta-lamps etc. The Illumination Negator will function for up to 10 minutes per Technician level and can only be penetrated by gadgets of higher level.
Endless lamp; This lifesaving little gadget has been a staple among many travelers, colonists and miners. It generates light as the Illumination Projector, and produces no heat. This gadget never ceases to function.
The answer for a technician is simple; they make it. One of the key features of the technician class is their ability to hobble together rough devices out of parts on hand for short term use. As a testament to my own belief that anything magical can become sci-fi through a simple spin on it's description, I thought I might share a selection of possible gadgets technicians can make based on arcane spells from the d20 SRD. Let me know what you think, and if you have some ideas(or challenges) don't hesitate to let me know.
*Note - Virtually any arcane(or any kind of) spell can be converted into a device in some way through flavor. If you don't see an adequate gadget listed feel free to look up a spell and it can then be quickly converted into service.
0 Level
Illumination Emitter; This simple little gadget is an easily rigged and useful device among Technicians. Once crafted it'll run for about 10 minutes per Technician level on it's power source. It sheds light outwards in a 20 foot radius and dim light outwards in an additional 20 foot radius.
Minor Anti Gravity Projector; A simple rod capable of projecting a short and low powered anti-gravity tractor beam this device allows a Technician to grasp a light weight object(up to 5 pounds) and move it. It's maximum range is 25 feet + 5 feet per every 2 Technician levels. The projector will only function so long as the Technician actively maintains it's use. Once disengaged it ceases function, requiring a constant operation in order to maintain it's power sources recycle rate.
Power Scanner; A small and easy to assemble meter this device can detect other Tech objects based on their power source and allows analysis of the power sources strength and some other qualities. It has an effective range of 60 feet and can operate for up to 1 minute per level but requires a Technician to focus on it's use.
Acidic Derringer; A simple one shot firearm this close range(25 feet + 5 feet per every 2 levels)weapon delivers a small dosage of improvised acid in a condensed ball. It deals 1d3 points of damage.
Code Analyzer; Technicians focusing on security penetration and generalized security both make great use of code analyzers. With these gadgets a Technician can analyze large segments of code rushing through a device, terminal or piece of software. A Technician may analyze and understand up to 250 words per minute even if the code language isn't known to them. Furthermore a Code Analyzer can detect trip commands with a DC 13 Knowledge(Technology) check, a greater trip command with a DC 16, or any other command with a DC 10 + Implanters level. An analyzer will only function for up to 10 minutes per level.
1st Level
Door Jam; A Technician learns over time to utilize simple makeshift devices in order to affect more complex devices like door remote systems. At a distance of 100 feet + 10 feet per level the Technician can close and temporarily override the doors open command. A door so jammed will remain so for 1 minute per level and will have it's DC's to open increased by 5. A Technician can only jam a door of up to 20 square feet per level.
Holo Projector(Fear); This little gem will generate a horrific holo-projection capable of frightening anyone who approaches within 25 feet plus 5 feet per every 2 Technician levels. The quality of the projection though will only affect creatures of 5 HD or lower and only for up to 1d4 rounds. Targets may make a will save to disregard the hologram. Creatures affected become frightened. If they make their Will save they are shaken for 1 round. The device will generally only function until it is interrupted by someone passing over it(i.e. making their will save and continuing on).
Universal Translator; A marvel among marvels this device can translate spoken or written text from any language into an understandable one and vice versa. The translator can only function for up to 10 minutes per level and only affects the Technician or person wielding it. Text can be translated at approximately 250 words per minute. Code or images cannot be translated.
Cart; A Technician can even build a simple make-shift cart to transport him or her around for short times. It will function for up to 2 hours per level and can carry the Technician and up to one other person or small amount of gear and will move at a speed of approximately 60 feet.
Micro Shield Generator: This device projects a riot shield size disk of force in front of you. It negates force blasts directed at you as well as providing you with a +4 shield bonus to AC. The Micro Shield Generator will function for one minute per technician level.
Inferno gloves; A single use gadget this little gem sprays a burst of flame 15 feet from the wielders hand. This causes 1d4 damage per every 2 Technician levels to a max of 5d4. A reflex save may be made to reduce the damage in half. Combustible materials will ignite if they are in the area and any character may attempt to extinguish themselves or objects as a full round action.
2nd Level -
Acid Blaster; The acid blaster is a compressed improvised acid launcher capable of launching a condensed burst of acid 400 +40 feet per level. The acid itself deals 2d4 points of damage and no splash damage. For every three technician levels (to a maximum of 18th), the acid, unless somehow neutralized, lasts for another round, dealing another 2d4 points of damage in that round.
Illumination Negator; This object radiates shadowy illumination out to 20 feet that absorbs all light, granting all creatures within this area a 20% miss chance do to concealment. No device of lower level is capable of penetrating this devices anti-illumination effects, not even common porta-lamps etc. The Illumination Negator will function for up to 10 minutes per Technician level and can only be penetrated by gadgets of higher level.
Endless lamp; This lifesaving little gadget has been a staple among many travelers, colonists and miners. It generates light as the Illumination Projector, and produces no heat. This gadget never ceases to function.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Digital Immersion - Part 9.
The sun began to set upon the horizon, leaving a lingering shadow cast from the two opposed mecha. "I have you now," Everett declared with venom. Determined not to repeat the mistakes of his former squad-mates, Everett set his weapons on burst fire, hoping to help control his ammo consumption. He wasn't about to blindly leap into this, Querent had already proven to be a cunning foe, she could be up to something. No, it would be best to be wary, Everett thought to himself.
"If your prepared for me," Everett mused as he took aim to the side of Querent's mecha. "Then let's try this." A quick buzz of gunfire erupted from his rifle and shoulder mounted guns to strike at Querent as he anticipated her attempt to dodge it. Certain he would catch her by leading the target, Everett's mind swam instantly as he tried to rationalize what was happening.
His mind struggled to play-back what happened, fighting to understand. As he had reached for his controls, locked in his target and pulled the trigger, the target had already reacted. "There is no way!" Everett screamed with fury. Squeezing the trigger again; the same thing. "Impossible!" Every time he fired, his target had already dodged. No pilot has that kind of reaction speed he thought to himself. Even with leading his target he had missed.
"It's true, you are some kind of freak. There is no natural way to possess reflexes like that." His ego torn asunder, all calm sucked into the vortex of realizing his own true skill in comparison. Bernard Everett, all aspirations of promotion or pay now gone, commits himself to a single strategy. Charging headlong and enraged he races forward trying to match Querent's moves.
In the slow motion dance, she now found herself in, Querent flitted about, while her adversary fought his own frustration. Every click of his controls a crude echo of her own natural and impulsive responses. With fluid form she pranced about as his own mecha crudely stomped about in pursuit. She pitied in her own way Everett's limited controls, his own mecha was simply responding to him as best as it could. Perhaps if she merely crippled him, maybe then he could come to understand.
Taking aim with her ARM Lancer's, Querent readied herself to perform a surgical strike to disable her opponent. Unfortunately for the last of her former squad, a mad cackle sprang from his lips as his mind shattered completely. Every weapon system roared to life, and every weapon fired in random different arcs before him. The sudden explosion of heat immediately triggered the Imp VI mines attached, devastating both him and the landscape.
Confusion gripped Querent like a rampant plague. In the heat of battle she had never had any trouble reacting or applying strategic theory. But now, in the aftermath of her entire squads' destruction by her own hand she was left adrift. She wasn't even fully aware what this myriad of emotions were, much less how to deal with them. There would be answers to be made, explanations to be given. And yet, standing here, lost in her mecha-form, feeling the faint breeze play about it's exterior, she herself was at a loss for any answers. Could they really have hated her so much, only because of her heritage? How can anyone believe so...
"If your prepared for me," Everett mused as he took aim to the side of Querent's mecha. "Then let's try this." A quick buzz of gunfire erupted from his rifle and shoulder mounted guns to strike at Querent as he anticipated her attempt to dodge it. Certain he would catch her by leading the target, Everett's mind swam instantly as he tried to rationalize what was happening.
His mind struggled to play-back what happened, fighting to understand. As he had reached for his controls, locked in his target and pulled the trigger, the target had already reacted. "There is no way!" Everett screamed with fury. Squeezing the trigger again; the same thing. "Impossible!" Every time he fired, his target had already dodged. No pilot has that kind of reaction speed he thought to himself. Even with leading his target he had missed.
"It's true, you are some kind of freak. There is no natural way to possess reflexes like that." His ego torn asunder, all calm sucked into the vortex of realizing his own true skill in comparison. Bernard Everett, all aspirations of promotion or pay now gone, commits himself to a single strategy. Charging headlong and enraged he races forward trying to match Querent's moves.
In the slow motion dance, she now found herself in, Querent flitted about, while her adversary fought his own frustration. Every click of his controls a crude echo of her own natural and impulsive responses. With fluid form she pranced about as his own mecha crudely stomped about in pursuit. She pitied in her own way Everett's limited controls, his own mecha was simply responding to him as best as it could. Perhaps if she merely crippled him, maybe then he could come to understand.
Taking aim with her ARM Lancer's, Querent readied herself to perform a surgical strike to disable her opponent. Unfortunately for the last of her former squad, a mad cackle sprang from his lips as his mind shattered completely. Every weapon system roared to life, and every weapon fired in random different arcs before him. The sudden explosion of heat immediately triggered the Imp VI mines attached, devastating both him and the landscape.
Confusion gripped Querent like a rampant plague. In the heat of battle she had never had any trouble reacting or applying strategic theory. But now, in the aftermath of her entire squads' destruction by her own hand she was left adrift. She wasn't even fully aware what this myriad of emotions were, much less how to deal with them. There would be answers to be made, explanations to be given. And yet, standing here, lost in her mecha-form, feeling the faint breeze play about it's exterior, she herself was at a loss for any answers. Could they really have hated her so much, only because of her heritage? How can anyone believe so...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)