Don't be intimidated, man!  We have some quality players here, no doubt.  But look at the jump that Blackthorn has made from his first post to his recent efforts.

The trick is to get out of the mindset that you use when you're sitting around a table with your buddies.  When you're playing tabletop, it's a never ending conversation.  It's plenty to say "my priest turns the undead, then hangs back to heal." 

But in PBP... that would be super boring if you had a DM setting the stage, and a half dozen people only posting their actions. 

You don't have to go as far as some do, but if you'll just put together two or three short paragraphs that include what your character is thinking, feelings... it quickly becomes riveting reading, a collaborative story.  Don't worry about being some genius writer, just share things from your character's perspective.  As with most things, you get better with practice!

DM's note: things have gotten a little wonky; Ch'dau was supposed to be backposting about gogin to look for Mort, as the party had already left the Inn, but peope started reponding to that.  So in an effort to make things make sense, I'm mashing it all together.

The mist is thick and sticky, but the stable is the next structure over from the inn, and the party is able to make their way to it with no trouble.  Inside, they spot three bodies crumpled on and at the bottom of the stairs.  Two are rotted, missing chunks of flesh - and each have their skulls staved in.  The third is that of the big innkeeper, Mort. 

Nya sobs at the sight, whcih causes the prone form to start and sit up.  "Aye now, wha's all this?" be grumbles. 

The serving wench rushes up the stair to embrace him as the Innkeper groans and grimaces while trying to take his feet.  "Damned walkers came shamblin' up tha stairs," he explains.  "I 'ad 'eight on 'em, bashed their damned 'eads in right proper, but one 'o tha bastards caught me bad knee an' I fell like a sack 'o taters.  Musta clipped me 'head on tha way down," he adds with a sheepish grin.  "It looks like ye're all well, then?"

Nya recounts the attack on the Inn and the bravery of the party, and Mort shakes his head.  "I cannae thank ye lot enough.  So much fer me repayin' me debt, eh?" 

He gives the group a critical once over.  "I expect tha watch will nae object to tha lack 'o peace knots now," he states with a chuckle.  "Ye'll be seein' to the trouble, I'd wager?"  He tries to fall in with the group, but his limp is extremely pronoucned.

OOC: assuming some positive response. 

Mort nods.  "Right, then.  Nya and I'll go back inside tha Shill an' 'unker down there.  May Shinara watch over the lot 'o ye."

************************************

The party follows the sounds of the fighting to discover the town watch - or what is left of them - locked in a mortal struggle with multiple zombies, as well as at least  two of the gigglers; it is difficult to tell due to the heavy mist. 

A handful of uniformed, armed men are pulled in tight, desperately fighting as they are surrounded.  At least as many lie motionless on the ground.   The undead press in from all sides; it is obvious that without intervention, they will all perish. 

Well, crud.  We have lost our first player.  Who would like to assume the role of Blowz-R-UPP?

PrincessAli is going to be out a few more days, so her character will go along wth the party's plans - but don't expect anything innovative from her at this time. 

Hello?

Friend Computer is getting bored, Citizens.

lol @ Brom.

Anybody hear from Blackthorn lately?

Long weekend over.  Let's see some posts!

Long weekend over.  Let's see some posts!

Welcome back!

Understood, Ayrn.  There won

t be a post from me until Tuesday or Wednesday, I expect.  We shall see.

The stable/barn is adjacent to the Inn, and is where travelers with horses would kep them at night.  Mort lives in an apartment above the barn area.So he is very close by.

If you guys want to divert to check on Mort, I'm okay with that.  Just tell meee how you want to proceed. 

You can hear the fighting from a couple of blocks down.

Ah.  I feel less stupid.

I'm going to condier this a backpost, more or less, since I have the party actually out on the street.

Can I confess feeling REALLY stupid right now?

"Shadow". 

I've been reading the name as "Chuh-DOW".  Utterly mispronouncing. 

Now, now.  I'm not cautioning you against anything.  Maybe 2-4 HP means the difference between life and death.  Don't come crying to me if it does...

Do note that we are talking about one minor wound, each.  Gib is down exactly one HP.  Ch'dau and Aranwen aren't much worse off.

You told me you were busy, so I expected that.

I'm kind of surprised that we have had zero posts to Corruption since my post.

Let us observe a moment of silence for poor Blowz-R-UPP-1.  We hardly knew ya. 

Please stand by for the dispatch of Blowz-R-UPP-2.  PrincessAli, unless you wish to do a backpost for v1 of your character, please hold off posting until I intro v2. 

Note that both Steam and Brighte are considered to be wounded in terms of game mechanics.

The firing laser cannon causes most of the team to take at least some sort of action - be that of running, dodging, heroically assisting others, trying to stop the shooting, or simply lying on the floor and playing dead.

Others, however, react far more sluggishly, as if the laser cannon were apparently a decoration, or, at worst, a distraction.

It is a given in Alpha Complex society that efficiency is something to be sought in all areas of life; waste - whether in resources, time, or effort - is something to be avoided. To do otherwise is treason.

As a result, modern targeting systems are a veritible model of efficiency. Consider, if you will, this yellow laser defense turret.

Presented with multiple threats, the targeting logic first elects to distribute the shots to mitigate any perceived threats.  Next, it attemps to distribute damage and weaken the resolve of the attacking force. However, when a wonderful target of opportunity presents itself - in this case, one clone that seems unconcerned with the severity of the situation - the algorhythm takes advantage of his positioning and lack of urgency to line up an extremely efficient shot.

The cannon swivels, hums, and fires again; this time, the shot will surely be analyzed (and lauded) by R&D. The beam penetrates the right temple of Bloz_R_UPP's head - just below the fuzzy red hat - and exits through the back of the skull, right at the dead (heh) center. 

The clone immediately collpases to the floor, where he does not even twitch.  Thanks to the cauterizing action of the laser, there is almost no mess whatsoever, in yet another testament to efficiency.

Slipp slaps the red button again, causing the feminine electronic voice to respond. 

At your service, citizen.  Automated defense system is already activated.  Multiple activations are not required.

Meanwhile, Steam is able to drag Ammpe to his feet, despite the military clone's own wound, and he shoves the team leader through the now opened door.  As the rest of the surviving members of the team rush through the opening, Steam kicks his pistol through the doorway.

Understandably, Steam did not notice the small chunk of Red reflec armor on the ground.  Truly, it isn't much to notice - around the size of a fingernail, this small piece of debris would not draw anyone's eye.  Truthfully, it should not even be here in the first place; some other unlucky Troubleshooter team apparently had a similar encounter with this laser cannon at some point in the past, but a treasonous HPD & MC clone assigned to janitorial duty apparently did a slipshod job and left this armor fragment behind. 

In normal circumstances, that fragment would mean nothing.  However, the recent drop of Steam's laser pistol apparently damaged the trigger mechanism, causing the weapon to fire far easier than normal.  And the kick caused the pistol to slip across this small chunk of debris, which just so happened to get caught inside of the trigger guard, which just so happened to wedge against the trigger itself with just enough force to cause the newly damaged device to fire.

Were it not so deadly serious, the unfolding chain of events might even have been considered humorous. 

Brighte made it through the doorway and stood up, secure in the knowledge that the yellow cannon could not possibly hit him.  At just about this time, Steam's laser inadvertantly misfired, striking the short clone at an angle in his left gluteal muscle. 

Fun fact - while red reflec armor generally provides reliable protection against red lasers, it does have the odd weak spot.  One of these is apparently located (at least in Brighte's case) in the gluteal cover of the suit. 

Being shot in the ass with a laser is actually far less humorous for the receiver than one might otherwise surmise.  The pain turns out to be quite excruciating as the small clone is pitched forward and to the ground from the impact.  Fortunately for Brighte, the shot came in at an angle; the entrance wound is towards the center of his body, the exit is at his hip.  The bone is only slightly charred - though this is the sort of injury that will certainly lead to a lasting limp if not treated.

Finally, the shooting comes to an end, and the survivors find themselves in what appears to be a relatively safe corridor marked "SWR Sector".

As you pause to catch your breath and assess the situation, Friend Computer's voice chimes from a crackly speaker somewhere in the ceiling.

"Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained a regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex."

The speaker falls silent.

Please refer back to the original recruitment thread. 

I expect one to two posts per week. If you miss posting, your clone may die. 

You want to know the rules? Knowledge of the rules is limited to Ultraviolet or higher security clearance. Since you are a lowly Red, such knowledge is treason.

So, are you interested? I need six players who can commit to posting. You don't need long, drawn-out posts... but be prepared to be creative and/or entertaining, or else die for your boringness.

We have some players who are killing it - let me give a quick round of applause to Breebles, Bud, and Eol Fefalas. 

If your name is not in that list, you are either not posting often enough, or are not posting ENOUGH enough.  Keeper, I'm going to pick on you.

I love how you're plotting and scheming already.  Great stuff!  You added an entire scene that was not part of the game (the death of poor Dweebs).  But sometimes, it seems like you rush to get a post up and revert to the tabletop gaming mode of giving a rapid fire response so as to move on.  You post as often as anyone, but a lot of your posts are a sentence or two only. That doesn't meet the requirements quoted above.

Folks - I don't expect novellas.  But 2-3 short paragraphs should be the default.  That's enough space to let us know what your clone is thinking and feeling, how they perceive the events through their eyes (you need not reveal your treason, feel free to send that to me directly), and make the game fun to read.

Single sentences are BORING.  A bored Paranoia GM finds excuses to kill clones. 

C'mon, ya'll. 

Even after burning every ounce of divine healing available to the party (read: both priests have expended their compliment of first level spells), not everyone is back to full health (and that is with my house rule of granting full HP on cure spells). 

Health:
Ch'dau - minor wound
Aranwen - minor wound
Gib - scratched
Kithran - unwounded
Midge - unwounded
Cedric - minor wound
Atharis - unwounded

Magic:
Midge has four mana points remianing.

Both Cedric and Gib have their complimnt of second level spells remaining, but have exhausted all of their first level magic, save Cedric's bonus light spells. 

The two priests call out to their deities and lay hands on the wounded, restoring everyone to fighting condition (if not to full health in all cases).  The party members return to their rooms and equip themselves fully; there will be no more fighting in night shirts tonight.

Aranwen finds no sign whatsoever of Davena; she has simply gone, with no clue left behind as to where or why.

Ch'dau moves to the cellar, and finds the door shut and blocked from inside.  When he calls out, he is relieved to be answered by Nya, who is tearfully grateful for the party's assistance.  She is extremely worried about Mort, who appparently sleeps in an apartment above the barn.

Soon, the party assembles and steps out into the dark streets of Crandon.  The oppressive mist still hangs in the air, limiting visibility even further than darkness already would.

The giggling that is such a worry to the safety of all can be heard much clearer in the street - as can shouts and sounds of battle.  The cursed mist distorts everything - including sounds - but if you had to hazard a guess, you would say that there is a fight going on only a couple of blocks away.  If the plan to to rendezvous with the town watch, then this is almost asuredly the way to accomplish that, as itt is highly doubtful that any othr fighting force would be present. 

Just a note - you're not going to have many bystanders at roughly 2 AM in a provincial village like this.  The town watch might be a resource.  If Mort is alive, he's likely the sort who would help on a task like this. 

At this point, Gib has yet to properly identify the gigglers as ghouls.  You blew the one knowledge check.  Cedric has made no attempt, has been content to just fight them and band aid people. 

So... nope, you don't know how long it normally takes, if these are unusual, etc.  Heck, you don't KNOW that fire will work (though fire fixes most ills).