Star Wars : The F- Troop
Returning to Fomos, where a large number of Imperial Stormtroopers are now marching around, and various smoking piles indicate what happens when Stormtroopers can shoot straight. Apparently somebody knifed a trooper on shore leave, and the Imperials reacted with weapons 'set to stun'. There were 'weapon malfunctions'. All shore leave is cancelled, which ruins our chance to sell them cheap beer.
Fakybe: Godsdammit. This is why we can't have nice things.
Forvuk also what to know if anybody dropped a heavy weapon.
Fakybe: I'm not sure I like where this is going.
GM: Any mission where you need to carry a heavy gun on a harness is probably a combat mission anyway.
Fakybe: Or a shopping trip on Smuggler's Moon.
He also wants to know if the heavy weapons he has can fire up through a floor.
GM: If they could, somebody would have already done it, and the cantina wouldn't have a mezzanine level.
Fakybe's player: That is one of the best 'GM shutting down player's idea' I've ever seen.
GM: You can see bodies being carted off by janitorial droids, to the-
Forvuk: Glue factory?
Half the people we know are missing, and the cantina is closed for repairs - the Imperials are paying, for some reason.
GM: 'We killed half the town, but we're rebuilding the cantina as a good-will gesture.'
Forvuk is so eager to get a E-Web that he approaches the Weequay he shot up in our counter ambush a few days ago.
Weequay: *through gritted teeth* ... isn't a heavy repeater enough for you?
At lest that smuggler-pirate that wants to kill us is holding off whilst the Imperials are here. One of the traumatized locals Fakybe is negotiating with is the owner of the cantina - one Rick.
Fakybe: Rick's Cafe Alderaan.
Rick: The other problem is that they shot the saxophonist.
Lots of people want off-planet too, including that pirate star fighter, who has posted bail and is offering a starfighter he doesn't actually own any more in payment. BOSS has too much to worry about to actually care. Of course, this will piss off the smuggler-pirates even worse, but hey, our negotiations with the Imperials are going to piss off the survivors, and any rebels that happen to be around too.
Forvuk: Has the Dejarik table been fixed?
Fendri: I think so. Can it be modified to play Sabacc?
Fakybe: Just as long as it can pick up the Life Day broadcast.
Off to the Star Destroyer Eviscerator.
GM: A huge orca looms over the globe of Fomos...
Forvuk: What's an orca?
Fendri: Big marine predator.
Fakybe: Well, just as long as it doesn't have the predilections of other delphinoids. But then, Fomos IS pretty fucked, so maybe it does.
The star destroyer's supply officer Commander Arcanite is obviously unhappy to have aliens on board his ship. Servitor bots are already scrubbing the deckplates. He also unhappy that he's been assigned to a cadet trip.
Cmdr. Arcanite: Welcome to the Eviscerator.
Fakybe: And you're welcome to it.
Cmdr. Arcanite: What are you and your crew of miscreants doing here?
Fakybe: I resemble that remark! Oh, my apologies, my grasp of your language is imperfect.
GM: Are any of you carrying weapons, or wearing incriminating t-shirts? 'Down with the Imperium'.
Fakybe: 'Free Princess Leia'
It soon becomes obvious to Fakybe and the Mon Calamari entrepreneur that the supply officer is trying to make some illicit purchases that he can blame on aliens if he's caught, but also that the star destroyer is so short on supplies that Arcanite is scrabbling to make up the shortfall. Something has seriously disrupted Imperial supply lines. Might have something to do with the Peace Moon being blown up. Fakybe suggests the troops would appreciate something to improve morale.
Cmdr. Arcanite: I'm surprised an alien understands the importance of morale.
Fakybe: Given the situation on Fomos is what happens when stormtroopers AREN'T relaxed...
Cmdr. Arcanite: ... good point.
Fakybe adds 'old war flicks' to the shopping list.
We check the ship for bugs as we leave - there's a few, but no more than you'd expect. Forvuk now wants to know how much it would cost to fill our ship with high explosive and fly it into the star destroyer.
Fendri: We are not going to blow up my ship!
Fendri's scruples don't stop him passing the info about an under-supplied and oddly crewed Imperial ship into the Bothan spy network, though.
GM: The Hutts have their own space, because not even the Empire wants to deal with giant slugs.
Fakybe: ... not enough salt in the galaxy.
GM: You fly off, and waste precious water on showers.
Fakybe: Don't worry, we'll wring the towels off into a bottle and sell it on Fomos later.
Fakybe: I'm sure there's icy moons in the outer system, or comets we can carve up.
GM: Sure, but they learned the hard way why you don't mix methane with your ice.
Off to the smuggler's moon!
Fakybe: Given the shortage of food and water on Fomos, what we should track down are some robot exotic dancers.
All: ....
GM: There's all kinds of performers available. Gungan Comedians, for example.
Fakybe: ... somehow I don't think political comedy from Naboo is very popular right now.
GM: There's flashdancer droids that choreograph their own lights.
Fakybe: Might be a bit high-brow - remember our audience.
GM: Well they like classic Jizz.
Fakybe: No they don't - Rick likes Classic Jizz. The customers don't have anywhere else to go.
Fakybe negotiates with an Arcona musician's wife-slash-agent, and persuades them that the move is worth it. For one thing it'll help him get off his salt addiction.
Fakybe: And they don't have a pirate problem anymore. I hear the captain got shipped off to be an exotic dancer for one of the Hutts.
We also hit the rumour mill for any robot performers that need off planet in a hurry.
GM: They contact you.
Fakybe: They MUST be desperate.
It's a troop of Trade Federation droids that do military marches and re-enact famous battles. This could work out, as well as be amusing - for one thing they could double as bouncers at Rick's Cantina, and they fold up to the size of a suitcase.
Forvuk: Could a hold-full of these guys take over a star destroyer?
Fakybe: You're obsessed - obsessed!
Fakybe: Well, let's give Roger Roger and Hammerstein here a chance.
GM: The Arcona's agent thinks Fomos is a good idea - no water, no salt. She wants him to dry out.
Fakybe: Literally.
The films might be a problem - they come with a Hutt film aficionado who controls the display rights, and insists on displaying them himself. Weird and slightly suspicious. Forvuk gets so engaged in setting up the Trade Federation warbots that he forgets an important piece of personal history.
GM: People usually hire mercenaries when they need some defenceless locals eliminated.
Fakybe: Just ask the colonists on Dralkh.
Forvuk: ... I need to go check something.
He finds that the merc guilds don't want to talk about the Dralkh contract. Or Contracts. Suspicious. We return to Fomos - to discover that the Eviscerator has left. But there are a large number of landed ships, and an Imperial shuttle. Everything seems perfectly normal. HIGHLY suspicious. But the staff at the starport haven't been replaced by murderous smugglers. Fnord's brother, the customs inspector, warns us that a lot of people want to 'talk' to us, so we'd better stay at the starport and keep all our hatches locked. But they won't torch the ship in berth, since everybody knows we're carrying booze and entertainers.
Duros Bro: There's already a tanker on the way.
Fakybe: You know, I think we're going to regret not hiring those exotic dancers.
The Arcona musician's wife is highly pissed, now that she's actually seen the conditions on Fomos, and learned about the murder threat hovering over us.
Fakybe: Look at it this way - the fact that they haven't blown us up in berth means they want beer and entertainers more than they want us. Congratulations! You have a captive audience out there.
Arcona musician: He's got a point, Merryl.
And there are even more probe droids buzzing around. This is the most suspicious thing yet.
Fakybe: Godsdammit. This is why we can't have nice things.
Forvuk also what to know if anybody dropped a heavy weapon.
Fakybe: I'm not sure I like where this is going.
GM: Any mission where you need to carry a heavy gun on a harness is probably a combat mission anyway.
Fakybe: Or a shopping trip on Smuggler's Moon.
He also wants to know if the heavy weapons he has can fire up through a floor.
GM: If they could, somebody would have already done it, and the cantina wouldn't have a mezzanine level.
Fakybe's player: That is one of the best 'GM shutting down player's idea' I've ever seen.
GM: You can see bodies being carted off by janitorial droids, to the-
Forvuk: Glue factory?
Half the people we know are missing, and the cantina is closed for repairs - the Imperials are paying, for some reason.
GM: 'We killed half the town, but we're rebuilding the cantina as a good-will gesture.'
Forvuk is so eager to get a E-Web that he approaches the Weequay he shot up in our counter ambush a few days ago.
Weequay: *through gritted teeth* ... isn't a heavy repeater enough for you?
At lest that smuggler-pirate that wants to kill us is holding off whilst the Imperials are here. One of the traumatized locals Fakybe is negotiating with is the owner of the cantina - one Rick.
Fakybe: Rick's Cafe Alderaan.
Rick: The other problem is that they shot the saxophonist.
Lots of people want off-planet too, including that pirate star fighter, who has posted bail and is offering a starfighter he doesn't actually own any more in payment. BOSS has too much to worry about to actually care. Of course, this will piss off the smuggler-pirates even worse, but hey, our negotiations with the Imperials are going to piss off the survivors, and any rebels that happen to be around too.
Forvuk: Has the Dejarik table been fixed?
Fendri: I think so. Can it be modified to play Sabacc?
Fakybe: Just as long as it can pick up the Life Day broadcast.
Off to the Star Destroyer Eviscerator.
GM: A huge orca looms over the globe of Fomos...
Forvuk: What's an orca?
Fendri: Big marine predator.
Fakybe: Well, just as long as it doesn't have the predilections of other delphinoids. But then, Fomos IS pretty fucked, so maybe it does.
The star destroyer's supply officer Commander Arcanite is obviously unhappy to have aliens on board his ship. Servitor bots are already scrubbing the deckplates. He also unhappy that he's been assigned to a cadet trip.
Cmdr. Arcanite: Welcome to the Eviscerator.
Fakybe: And you're welcome to it.
Cmdr. Arcanite: What are you and your crew of miscreants doing here?
Fakybe: I resemble that remark! Oh, my apologies, my grasp of your language is imperfect.
GM: Are any of you carrying weapons, or wearing incriminating t-shirts? 'Down with the Imperium'.
Fakybe: 'Free Princess Leia'
It soon becomes obvious to Fakybe and the Mon Calamari entrepreneur that the supply officer is trying to make some illicit purchases that he can blame on aliens if he's caught, but also that the star destroyer is so short on supplies that Arcanite is scrabbling to make up the shortfall. Something has seriously disrupted Imperial supply lines. Might have something to do with the Peace Moon being blown up. Fakybe suggests the troops would appreciate something to improve morale.
Cmdr. Arcanite: I'm surprised an alien understands the importance of morale.
Fakybe: Given the situation on Fomos is what happens when stormtroopers AREN'T relaxed...
Cmdr. Arcanite: ... good point.
Fakybe adds 'old war flicks' to the shopping list.
We check the ship for bugs as we leave - there's a few, but no more than you'd expect. Forvuk now wants to know how much it would cost to fill our ship with high explosive and fly it into the star destroyer.
Fendri: We are not going to blow up my ship!
Fendri's scruples don't stop him passing the info about an under-supplied and oddly crewed Imperial ship into the Bothan spy network, though.
GM: The Hutts have their own space, because not even the Empire wants to deal with giant slugs.
Fakybe: ... not enough salt in the galaxy.
GM: You fly off, and waste precious water on showers.
Fakybe: Don't worry, we'll wring the towels off into a bottle and sell it on Fomos later.
Fakybe: I'm sure there's icy moons in the outer system, or comets we can carve up.
GM: Sure, but they learned the hard way why you don't mix methane with your ice.
Off to the smuggler's moon!
Fakybe: Given the shortage of food and water on Fomos, what we should track down are some robot exotic dancers.
All: ....
GM: There's all kinds of performers available. Gungan Comedians, for example.
Fakybe: ... somehow I don't think political comedy from Naboo is very popular right now.
GM: There's flashdancer droids that choreograph their own lights.
Fakybe: Might be a bit high-brow - remember our audience.
GM: Well they like classic Jizz.
Fakybe: No they don't - Rick likes Classic Jizz. The customers don't have anywhere else to go.
Fakybe negotiates with an Arcona musician's wife-slash-agent, and persuades them that the move is worth it. For one thing it'll help him get off his salt addiction.
Fakybe: And they don't have a pirate problem anymore. I hear the captain got shipped off to be an exotic dancer for one of the Hutts.
We also hit the rumour mill for any robot performers that need off planet in a hurry.
GM: They contact you.
Fakybe: They MUST be desperate.
It's a troop of Trade Federation droids that do military marches and re-enact famous battles. This could work out, as well as be amusing - for one thing they could double as bouncers at Rick's Cantina, and they fold up to the size of a suitcase.
Forvuk: Could a hold-full of these guys take over a star destroyer?
Fakybe: You're obsessed - obsessed!
Fakybe: Well, let's give Roger Roger and Hammerstein here a chance.
GM: The Arcona's agent thinks Fomos is a good idea - no water, no salt. She wants him to dry out.
Fakybe: Literally.
The films might be a problem - they come with a Hutt film aficionado who controls the display rights, and insists on displaying them himself. Weird and slightly suspicious. Forvuk gets so engaged in setting up the Trade Federation warbots that he forgets an important piece of personal history.
GM: People usually hire mercenaries when they need some defenceless locals eliminated.
Fakybe: Just ask the colonists on Dralkh.
Forvuk: ... I need to go check something.
He finds that the merc guilds don't want to talk about the Dralkh contract. Or Contracts. Suspicious. We return to Fomos - to discover that the Eviscerator has left. But there are a large number of landed ships, and an Imperial shuttle. Everything seems perfectly normal. HIGHLY suspicious. But the staff at the starport haven't been replaced by murderous smugglers. Fnord's brother, the customs inspector, warns us that a lot of people want to 'talk' to us, so we'd better stay at the starport and keep all our hatches locked. But they won't torch the ship in berth, since everybody knows we're carrying booze and entertainers.
Duros Bro: There's already a tanker on the way.
Fakybe: You know, I think we're going to regret not hiring those exotic dancers.
The Arcona musician's wife is highly pissed, now that she's actually seen the conditions on Fomos, and learned about the murder threat hovering over us.
Fakybe: Look at it this way - the fact that they haven't blown us up in berth means they want beer and entertainers more than they want us. Congratulations! You have a captive audience out there.
Arcona musician: He's got a point, Merryl.
And there are even more probe droids buzzing around. This is the most suspicious thing yet.