#yay-panzer-iv

[doomguy-suggestion]

Hello, Mr. Slayer, sir. What’s the best piece of overarching life advice you can give? With or without the demon punching, of course.

“Assert yourself, but never be a dick about it.“

Simple as it may be, it will take you far.

[kirby-suggestions]

(Ey we already got a snake-suggestions up in here or nah)

(I haven’t seen any! Of course even if there is one, it’s always possible for multiple people to have suggestion blogs for the same character)

[girlfoxcock]

im running a halo themed rpg and my players asked me to ask you to fix the timecube. one of the people in the party shot it like a dumbfuck and they’d like a replacement. is this okay?

does this mean gold team is canon in your halo rpg universe

[officeofnavalintelligence]

so boss, while hosting a game of Halo Mythic my party seized 16 covenant plasma pistols, permission to make a fuckin sweet mini gun? sir?

granted.

[vorked]

Sorry about your dog, Vork. Know how much that can hurt. Good luck with the coming days.

Thanks, it means a lot. 

[headcanonsforcompanions]

Ada turns off her personality matrix when she and the Sole Survivor are traveling without speaking, because it helps her to cope with the death of Johnson. She set up a voice activated script to turn it on when Sole asks her a question.

[redvsbluemicrofic]

After the Crash

yay-panzer-iv : “Hey so for the angst war, could you fuck me up with some Washington waking up after the MOI crash?” 

The smell of smoke greets Wash as he returns to consciousness, accompanied by the burning bite of glass shards embedded in his skin. He lifts his head, trying to focus, trying to get his bearings. After a moment, the room comes clear, and he almost wishes it hadn’t.

Recovery Room One is destroyed, every examination table flipped. Contents of every drawer and cabinet are emptied onto the floor, all piled with him against one wall.  He becomes aware of other lighter, chemical smells coming from the bottles nestled around his body, so Wash gingerly sweeps away as much glass as he can with the back of his arm, and pushes himself up.

He’s barely on his feet when the ship shifts, throwing him off balance and stumbling into a wall.  There is the sound of distant screaming, crashes that shake the floor and the screech of agonized metal.  Wash spreads his arms against the wall, trying to stabilize himself until the ship settles.

It feels like an eternity before everything stops moving, before he can finally push off the wall to navigate through broken glass to reach the door. The crash broke the mechanism to open it and even with the din in the hallway Wash can hear the sound of sparks inside, so he hits the emergency lever to disengage it, forces the door open by hand, just enough to struggle through the gap.  Wash pushes free and steps out into the hallway, into chaos.

Medical staff line the corridors, laying out patients on the floor in an improvised triage, yelling to hear each other over the scream of alarms and the cries of injured soldiers and staff.  As he is on his feet, no one gives him a second glance, and he follows the sound of pounding footsteps down the hall.

He can actually see wisps of smoke now, and hear the distant roar of fire extinguishers. A squad of grunts run by, nearly knocking him off his feet. Wash watches them turn a corner, two slipping and crashing in a dark puddle he doesn’t dare look at too closely.

Another squad runs by, and Wash presses his back to the wall to avoid them, at a loss for what to do next. His team could be anywhere, but without his armour, he has no radio to attempt to make contact. Finally he makes a decision, sets off at a slow jog toward the locker room to retrieve his armour. He’s barely started down the hall when he collides with another body coming around a corner.  Staggering back, it takes him a moment to recognize the familiar face.

“Counselor?”

The usually calm man recoils at first, but his composure returns with recognition. “What are you doing out of the medical bay, Agent?”

“There is no medical bay anymore.” Wash glances down the hallway, ready to run at a word. “Where’s my team?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where? I’ll find my armour and catch up to them if--”

“They are gone, Agent. All left, or dead.”

A hand reaches in and squeezes Wash’s lungs. He struggles to breathe, struggles even harder to speak.

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

“Who? Who di--”

“Agent Carolina was killed by Agent Maine.”

The room tilts violently, but this time it is only Wash that feels it.

“...killed… by…”

“The rest of your team have abandoned their posts.  Agent York has teamed up with Agent Texas and they are currently on the run.  Agents North and South have -- “

The Counselor’s list of betrayals flows around Agent Washington, but he no longer hears it.

Gone. All gone.

Dead. How could Carolina be dead?  Nothing could kill Carolina. No one could kill Carolina. Except Maine, except Maine killed… Maine killed… Carolina is… Maine killed...

And the rest -- gone. He’s all that’s left. Alone.

Gone.

He’s all that’s--

Gone.

He’s all--

Gone.

He’s gone.

Wash hears laughter breaking through the fog in his head, echoing from miles away, from the world where all his friends have run, or died.

“Agent?”

The laughter grows in volume, tainted by a manic edge that grows sharper, wilder with each passing second.

“Agent!”

His world blurs, heaves around him and he’s dimly aware of the Counselor’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him until his teeth rattle.  But even that cannot silence the shrill laughter bursting out of him in torrents, washing away his sanity.

“Agent Washington -- pull yourself together! As the last remaining Freelancer from your team, we need--”

Whatever it was that was needed of him, Wash never hears it.  His back hits the wall behind him, his legs give way, and his laughter turns to sobs in the space of a single breath.  The Counselor stares down at him, stone-faced, then turns and grabs a passing soldier who is leading a squad at speed down the hall.

“Sergeant, I need you and your team to escort Agent Washington to the brig for his own safety. You will stand guard until I send a doctor to take a look at him, as soon as there is one to spare.”

“Sir, there are fires between here and the brig, heavy smoke through fully a quarter of the ship--”

“Use your best judgement then. Just make sure he’s secure and stand guard until you receive other orders from me.”  With no further instructions, the Counselor turns on his heel and leaves.

The sergeant watches him go, then looks down at the pitiful figure sobbing and shaking on the floor.

“Rodriguez, Miller - help him up. But any signs of fight, back off quick.”

“He’s unarmed, sarge.”

“He’s a Freelancer, private. He could take your head off by breathing on you just right.  Everyone else-- no weapons. If he runs, we follow at a distance.  I’m not losing men because this poor bastard lost his mind.”

The two soldiers step forward cautiously, but Wash doesn’t put up a fight. As they haul him to his feet, the hallway shimmers in his vision, grey and wet as a cemetery in the rain. He leans his head against the helmet of the soldier to his right, shaking and hiccuping as he weeps, and is answered with a faint grunt of either pity or disgust. As the sergeant takes the lead again, Wash stumbles along with a team that is not his own, navigating the halls of the dead ship that used to be his home, and leaving behind a trail of tears that will never lead him back.

[outofcontextdiscord]

Hey mod jade, why did you pick “jade”?

why not?

[officeofnavalintelligence]

is craigslist like the galactic black market or do people just. sell weapons of mass destruction now

well, WE sell them. on craigslist. 

[officeofnavalintelligence]

Hey, yeah, uh, if the Falcons don't technically exist anymore, then how did some bloodthirsty pirates with severe cases of insanity get a hold of one? AndIsweartogodifyoysaythehighestbidderiwillfindthemandgutthem.

the lowest bidder. 

[officeofnavalintelligence]

The interns in the break room have set up governments and colonies and now there's a flag stuck in the coffee machine.

sounds like malarkey. 

[vorked]

So I recently played Halo Mythic (really watered down because we only had an hour to build an entire campaign) and I was amazed by the amount of detail you put into the rules and equip-able items. This game looks really cool, and I can't wait to run a full scale game of it!

Thank you! There is a ton of work being put into the next edition of the game. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

[kirby-suggestions]

You are the single most adorable blog on this site thank you so much for existing

Hey thanks, that’s what I’m going for! Glad I could entertain you so far!

[officeofnavalintelligence]

besides abducting kids and playing with weapons of mass destruction on a planetary scale what do you do for fun? i wanna have a kickass party that three administrations can dismiss as preposterous rumor.

we like to do whip its in the parking lot of an arby’s and then take a prowler out for a spin near luna.

[vorked]

Hey, I’m going to host a game of Halo Mythic based during the Fall of Reach, and I was planning on having the PCs be stranded, having to search for a UNSC patrol or something. Is there an in-built random encounter system in Mythic, or are there any situations you can suggest?

There actually is. If you go to the GM section, in the back of the book, you can find planet, character, and mission creation tables. You can form an entire planet, create missions, and even encounters as you go. 

[officeofnavalintelligence]

hey so yeah, petition to make tanks named after big cats again. that was like the pinnacle of technology. and also cats.

ah yeah our favorite kind of cat, the scorpion