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The Pyhua. A race of small, gray-skinned beings no more than a meter in height at most. Their frail bodies are supplemented by their enormous intellect and psychic powers. Their intelligence makes them forerunners in scientific fields of all kinds. Their main produce are cybernetic implants, as their uncanny ability to understand the biology of other species makes them the most suited towards producing such technology. Their race is run like a monarchy.

The Raz'ask. A race of birdlike bipeds. They sport two large, feathered wings which end in dexterous, long-clawed hands. Their heads are large and have a suitably sized beak. Almost as brilliant as the Pyhua in technology, their advances are more general in nature than their opposition's in the sciences. They're a peaceful and artistic race which prefers to use more "classic" materials to construct things when possible, such as stone or wood. They often share their advances with the other races for little in return. A shamanistic and spiritual race, they sport minor psychic powers, but nothing so powerful as the Pyhua.

Lastly, the Usamimi. A race of bipeds with digitigrade legs, they possess fur covering their arms and legs, long and drooping ears, and puffy, cottonball tails. They also sport lengthy front teeth and thin whiskers sprout from their cheeks. A beautiful and empathetic people, they take excellent care of their colonies, ensuring the region is stable before expanding to other systems. Having developed on a luscious forest moon, they pioneer the Republic of Usunae.

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A handful of other races exist within the galaxy. Notably recognized are the large, violent, green-skinned nomadic peoples known as the Xrusk, and the hard-shelled crustacean species that has long since foregone Federation law for a life of piracy known as the Flal, while all other races are considered "minor" by comparison, and generally are not officially recognized by the Federation proper.

Popularly used by all races and beings across the galaxy capable of such advancement are large, multi-ton machines known as Mektons. All-terrian and all-purpose, Mektons are vehicles used with great success in all avenues of work. Their applications range wildly, from terrestrial construction to military and further beyond, and their presence is considered standard throughout the galaxy.

This galaxy holds many different people and many different stories.

But who are you?

>Decatus, an up-and-coming young merchant Dryder forging his own path tooth and nail. Your black carapace is hard and solid, your eyes solid sapphires of blue. On the back of your second abdomen is a red pattern resembling crashing waves of water. Emphathetic and level-headed, you possess all the traits necessary to excel at your job.

>Nyla Patton, a Human trailblazer and explorer. You map uncharted worlds and plot safer, faster courses for interstellar travel, making her fortune as a pioneer of the final frontier. Your short red hair and deep brown eyes lend you a boyish look, while your brash nature can be charming to some and infuriating to others. Quick on your feet and fast to react, you have what it takes to survive hostile alien landscapes.

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>Tatol, a veteren of the Pyhua military and a medic to boot, transferred to the Federation's forces. You stand on the front lines of a world bordering Flal territory, which is highly sought after by the Federation for the artifacts supposedly located on-world. This mission could make or break his career to become a Wraith, one of the Federation's most feared and respected individuals, doing the critical, personal dirty work of the Council that keeps the galactic gears turning smoothly. Your psionic experience is top notch, while you are generally highly intelligent.

>Entayta, a Raz'ask Mekton designer and pilot. While not quite as peaceful-minded as his fellow people, pacifism is still a trait inherent to your nature, and you tend to avoid or diffuse conflict wherever possible. You reside on a rather rural world, but strive to travel the stars and spread peace where possible... even if it takes a heavy wing. Technically apt, and often considered to have a lucky streak.

>Grace Padilla, an Usamimi spy often sent to keep tabs on both the Federation and the races that exist within it. Your superiors are paranoid, and that has trickled down into you. Always keeping an eye over your shoulder, you perform your tasks with accuracy and swiftness. Your natural good looks and quick reflexes make her apt at both high and low profile infiltrations.

>Losog Morblod, a Xrusk chieftan. You are the largest of your people and you lead them well, living and dying by blade and gun. Your tribe is under constant assault by your larger and better-equipped rivals. They wish to drive you off-world or exterminate your tribe, whichever is simplest. You simply cannot let your tribe fall here, on this world, even if it means giving ground and escaping. Your will is strong and your body is stronger.

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>A Drone of the Flal. You are the lowest tier of Flal society, often not even given the benefit of a name unless you so decide on one personally. While usually loyal, dealings with other races has left you wondering what lies beyond The Colony, and whether your superiors are truly capable. You have some allies within your echelons who would fight beside you, should you choose a different route. Perhaps if you work hard, you can earn your way to a Commander position and be given greater freedom. Or you could join the rebellion, whom wish to enter the Federation proper and are considered betrayers of the race. Branching off to form your own pirate band or other standalone group is also an option. You are strong, fleet-footed and swift to act. All traits groomed by your masters in The Colony.

>Modify one of the above, or Write-in. If requested, details of the minor races known as the Kunchoren (honorable mantis people with no strict gender norms), Seopa (a race of servitor androids whose masters long since died out), the Skorpios (large and powerful scorpion-like bipeds from an underdeveloped world), Visiak (lizard-people with a preference for terrestrial combat) or their cousins the Dracosa (prideful, winged people believing themselves descendents of legendary beasts).

>>704086
>Grace Padilla, an Usamimi spy often sent to keep tabs on both the Federation and the races that exist within it. Your superiors are paranoid, and that has trickled down into you. Always keeping an eye over your shoulder, you perform your tasks with accuracy and swiftness. Your natural good looks and quick reflexes make her apt at both high and low profile infiltrations.
What'll happen to the characters that aren't picked?

>>704084
>>Nyla Patton, a Human trailblazer and explorer. You map uncharted worlds and plot safer, faster courses for interstellar travel, making her fortune as a pioneer of the final frontier. Your short red hair and deep brown eyes lend you a boyish look, while your brash nature can be charming to some and infuriating to others. Quick on your feet and fast to react, you have what it takes to survive hostile alien landscapes.

>Tatol, a veteren of the Pyhua military and a medic to boot, transferred to the Federation's forces. You stand on the front lines of a world bordering Flal territory, which is highly sought after by the Federation for the artifacts supposedly located on-world. This mission could make or break his career to become a Wraith, one of the Federation's most feared and respected individuals, doing the critical, personal dirty work of the Council that keeps the galactic gears turning smoothly. Your psionic experience is top notch, while you are generally highly intelligent.

Will we have a pure time?

>>704084
>Nyla Patton, a Human trailblazer and explorer. You map uncharted worlds and plot safer, faster courses for interstellar travel, making her fortune as a pioneer of the final frontier. Your short red hair and deep brown eyes lend you a boyish look, while your brash nature can be charming to some and infuriating to others. Quick on your feet and fast to react, you have what it takes to survive hostile alien landscapes.

>>704094
I'll shelve them, bring them in as NPCs, or maybe start them as a new arc in the future if we ever get that far. Though I'm open to suggestions.

>>704134
What do you mean by pure time?

And as an aside, I'm a bit uncertain on what the protocol should be for awaiting replies. I know /qst/ is a fairly slow board, but what is the usual? A certain number of replies, or a time frame?

>Nyla Patton, a Human trailblazer and explorer. You map uncharted worlds and plot safer, faster courses for interstellar travel, making her fortune as a pioneer of the final frontier. Your short red hair and deep brown eyes lend you a boyish look, while your brash nature can be charming to some and infuriating to others. Quick on your feet and fast to react, you have what it takes to survive hostile alien landscapes.

>>704205
>>704141
>>704097
Looks like we have a winner, then. Unless someone decides to post in the interval with new details, we will be telling the story of Nyla Patton.

>>704171
>What do you mean by pure time?
You are dead to me.

>>704477
I'm sorry ;-;

>>704274
The cockpit of your ship hums faintly with the throb of the engines below. Your ship, The Gold Retriever, is a little budgeted, but she gets the job done. Like a loyal pup, she keeps on keeping on, and she hasn't failed you yet. The giant ball of blue-green water and purple landmasses looms in the viewport of your cockpit. Twinkling diamonds make up the backdrop of the void beyond, while three small, rocky satellites orbit this large planet. After a trip back from your latest sale of map data, you decided to take a spontaneous detour, having had the fuel to spare.

Turning the throttles to the left, you angle for the planet, flicking several switches with a satisfying click. Easing off the throttles for a moment, you kick your legs back on the controls and lace your hands behind your head, gently coasting closer to the world below. The view's pretty, it always is. Another undocumented terrestrial planet, with plentiful vegetation. There could be disease-curing plant life or man-eating animals down there. Or the other way around, for that matter. Evolution takes strange paths in its ceaseless course.

You reach over beneath the dashboard, popping open the minifridge and pulling out a can. You briefly admire the label as the chilled beverage numbs your hand. Rokkit Cola, you'll fly to the moon! proclaims the slogan. A shrug and a pluck of the tab later, and you're kicking back your latest Rokkit Cola. You'll have to dump the other five empty cans that litter the floor later. For now, you've got a planet to explore.

But first...

>I should scan the planet. Could get a better indication of what I'm looking at that way.
>Federation law requires me to check for surrounding ships before entering atmosphere. I should do that first.
>Scanning's a hassle, let's check the ol' fashioned way.
>Flick dashboard bobblehead.

>>704612
>Federation law requires me to check for surrounding ships before entering atmosphere. I should do that first.
>Flick dashboard bobblehead.
I want to scan the planet but I would also like not to get caught with our pants down.

>>704612
>>Federation law requires me to check for surrounding ships before entering atmosphere. I should do that first.

>>704612
>Flick dashboard bobblehead.
>Federation law requires me to check for surrounding ships before entering atmosphere. I should do that first.
After that last run-in with a Feddie patrol cruiser, we make sure to at least swing our on-board camera back and forth a little before starting entry procedure so our ass is covered if anyone checks our instrumentation.

>>704644
>>704659
>>704664

>Flick dashboard bobblehead.
>Federation law requires me to check for surrounding ships before entering atmosphere. I should do that first.

"Always the adventurous sort," you can hear your father's voice say. You look to your dashboard, giving the small bobblehead of a grinning, thumbs-upping cartoon character from your youth a flick. A parting present from your father. A silly little trinket, but it livens the cockpit up nicely, between your other amassed collectibles of varying alien origin. And you've got to admit that watching his head bobble is cathartic. That character was where you got your craving for adventure in the first place, come to think of it. Chip and His Spaceship... Sure brings back memories.

With Chip and his oversized head bobbling in your periphery, you chug the last of your Rokkit, crumple the can, and drop it to the grated floor. Cleaning can wait until later, for now you should have just enough time to scan for any other ships before you coast into position to initiate the descent planet-side. You'd hate to get caught with your pants down again. Or off, in that one case.

...you never did find those pants.

With a weary sigh, you pull over the swiveling monitor, unfurling the keyboard and tacking away. Your spotting radar emerges from its containment atop your ship, locking into place and spinning its path. Rather old-fashioned, you admit, but it was cheap and powerful.

Staring at the green and black grid on screen, the scan provides a detailed output of all debris sizeable enough to be picked up. After several minutes of passes, honing in on and turning away any obvious false hits or inaccurate results, something pops up. A small reading, either a some space debris or a civilian flyer. Not something that'd be extra-planetary capable, unless the owner was obscenely wealthy, so it's almost definitely a wash.

>Coast is clear, let's head down.
>Maybe I should check that reading... could be worth a look. Or it could be a trap.
>It'll be risky to take the time, but if I'm quick, I can get a planet scan in before descent at this speed.

>>705247
>Maybe I should check that reading... could be worth a look. Or it could be a trap.
We're not pressed for time, and the trip over to it should give us some time for a quick scan, at least of the local vicinity of where we're planning to land.

>>705247
>>Maybe I should check that reading... could be worth a look. Or it could be a trap.

>>705368
>>705337

You figure that maybe investigating the reading isn't such a bad idea. After all, what kind of explorer wouldn't investigate the abnormal? If it were simple space debris, there'd likely be more of it around. If it's a rich civilian flyer, they either have an exotic taste in vacations, or they drifted here long ago and are waiting for help or pillaging. And if it's a trap, well, you'll wing it. What could go wrong, right?

You push aside the scanner for the moment, slotting it back against the wall to take up the controls. Consulting the radar reading and with a little lazy eyeballing, you plot a course for the reading and boost your way towards it, thrusters burning at a steady pace. Keeping your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, you cruise nearer and nearer to the anomaly. Reversing thrust to slow your speed, you reach a comfortable cruise before coming to a complete halt about a hundred meters out from the anomaly.

It appears to be a small transport vessel. Nothing rich or flouncy about it, though there is a logo plastered on the side. A pair of blue, crossed feathery wings, with a dusty-looking ring surrounding them like an exotic planet. The wings make you think this may be a Raz'ask company vessel of some sort. And Raz'ask being as they are, it's either manufacturing or research. Though why it's floating out here all on its lonesome is anyone's guess. Pulled by the planet's gravity? Drifted from the void? An expedition gone wrong? A trap? A lone, suspicious vessel like this could be anything. But there could also be valuable research, equipment, or both on board.

Or it could, y'know, blow up when you get close.

>Think I'll put on my suit and fly out to check it personally. Using the Mek could risk damaging the contents or flyer.
>...to hell with checking myself. I have a giant robot! I'd much rather that blow up than me.
>This is both suspicious and not my problem. I'm out. Back to the planet.

>>705960
>Scan the ship in more detail with our instruments now that we're closer.
>Attempt to hail it on comms.
Surely if our instruments can scan a planet, they can also be made a scan a ship?

>>705960
>Think I'll put on my suit and fly out to check it personally. Using the Mek could risk damaging the contents or flyer.

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>>705960
Use the robot. Any half decent Mek should have enough dexterity to handle a ship without tearing it to bits.

>>704612
Having a pure time is referring to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQrDASSYKmw presumably. Since we're playing Mekton Zeta.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>706054
>>706093
>>709052

1. >Scan the ship in more detail with our instruments now that we're closer.
>Attempt to hail it on comms.

2. >Think I'll put on my suit and fly out to check it personally. Using the Mek could risk damaging the contents or flyer.

3. Use the robot. Any half decent Mek should have enough dexterity to handle a ship without tearing it to bits.


Sure, without tearing it to bits, but not without severely rattling the contents in handling it, possibly denting or breaking off fragile exterior pieces, or simply failing to handle it carefully at all if your Mek and/or piloting skills are lackluster, given how budgeted your other aspects are.

And sorry for the drop, folks. I passed out, and then had a 12 hour work day and just finished GMing a game. But being sick and getting 4 hours of sleep will do that to you. I'll be picking up tomorrow with the option rolled here, if there are no other posts.

>>715172
I voted for the second option but I'll switch support for option 1, and it's all good

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>>715963
The QM was rolling to choose an option.

Bump

And here's a character sheet for Nyla.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1OnHAu3LKin8Ys2xuj2ZClOlkZJRhF5aRFTj37wudrmM/edit?usp=sharing

(had a post almost done, accidentally refreshed, kill me)

>>715963
>>715172

You coast your ship to a full stop, now eyeing the flyer as it floats through the void ahead. The Gold Retriever is by no means a large ship, but it is still quite mammoth compared to the flyer. Resting at almost double the distance in length that a standard biped Mekton stands in height - approximately 68 meters - it easily dwarfs the small 4 meter shuttle, which appears not much larger than a standard terrestrial civilian vehicle.

The Retriever is suitably sized for your purposes, holding plenty of room for living space to accommodate you and any crew you may possess with some room to spare... though you're currently running a skeleton crew of one: yourself. The cargo hold, too, is large enough to hold and and equip your Mekton. Assuming it's laying down or kneeling, of course.

Your eyes roam over the flyer as you consider your options. If it did happen to have passengers, they likely wouldn't appreciate being handled roughly by a Mekton. Though if empty, you could easily slot it into your cargo hold without it interfering with anything, granting you the leisure to investigate at will. Turning in place on your chair, you set your feet to the ground, a clatter of tin cans parting before you as you pull over the scanning console. It would be prudent to try and get a better idea of the ship before you go poking around inside, after all.

Unfortunately, your ship lacks any sort of sensory scanners required to provide a detailed analysis of a target ship. What scanning technology you possess for identifying ships is standard for any legally spaceworthy vessel. While you possess the required programs and technology to read the atmosphere of a planet and a general sense of its gravity, along with a few other minor details, it's all but useless for looking at ships.

The scan of the ship takes mere seconds however, and the screen displays the information it uncovers. This shuttle is apparently of AvaiTech make, which further confirms your suspicions Raz'ask origins, though an owner and affiliated company remains unlisted, and the logo on the side is not AvaiTech's. It reads as weaponless and short-ranged, excluding any unregistered modifications.

Seeing no immediate threat, you figure taking a moment to try and hail them would be prudent. Flicking the switches and dialing in as needed, you open a line of communication with the flyer.

"Unidentified shuttle, please identify yourself."

You wait a moment, with no response.

"Repeat. Unidentified shuttle bearing a marking of blue wings, please respond."

Again, you're greeted with silence. One last try, and you're free to investigate. Speaking slowly and clearly, you try your final hail.

"Shuttle. Bearing winged markings. Is assistance required? Respond."

Another pause follows.

>>718406

You shrug, figuring the vessel long since empty. Shoving the console aside and back towards its mount, you take up the throttles and start up the process in coasting a little closer. You don't get far though, before a weak and warbled caw crackles from your speakers. The tone filtered through your translator indicates a Raz'ask speaker, though it's mostly a garbled drone that soon tapers off. A quiet thud follows, then silence.

>...that doesn't sound good. I really should check personally. Now.
>Hopefully whatever that thing died to isn't contagious. Time to check the ship.
>May as well bring the shuttle on board with the Mek. Save me the effort of putting on a spacesuit.
>This is bad news. I'm leaving.
>...I thiiink I'll just go check the planet.

>>718449
>Hopefully whatever that thing died to isn't contagious. Time to check the ship.

>Hopefully whatever that thing died to isn't contagious. Time to check the ship.

>>719277
>>721021

Space salvage laws are very clear on this matter. If you find an empty, abandoned or discarded vessel, it's finders keepers, so long as you provide records from the ship to prove as much. Though it is considered just and honorable to return salvage to the affiliated company, the next of kin, or the proper authorities (in that order if the previous is unavailable), and in fact worthy of rewards, there's no punishment for not doing so.

The fact that this ship is unregistered and has no affiliated company, however, means it's totally fair game. And by the sounds of it, the only person left to argue that matter just keeled over.

Without knowledge of what's aboard in terms of both hazards and valuables, you decide it would be prudent to check personally before you subject your ship to an infestation of... mutant space weevils, or something equally awful. You only hope that whatever the Raz'ask died to isn't contagious, but if it is, that's what the space suit is for.

Pushing away from the console and rotating in your chair, you leap off and to your feet. A can crumples from your landing, conforming around your boot. A swift kick sends it to rejoin its brethren while you depart from the cockpit and make for your equipment locker. It doesn't take long to travel the length of your ship towards your locker. A quick jimmying of the handle pops open the metal container. You grab the orange suit, accompanying helmet, and suit up with the rest of your gear. A maneuver backpack strapped around your shoulders, pistol and knife in easy reach, and various other necessities and just-in-cases are all pouched and zipped. A final check tells you that you're ready.

Your footsteps resonate in the empty metal halls, eerily lingering as you step into the airlock. You grip the helmet tucked under your arm, tossing it lightly and catching it to clutch it with both hands. You look into the visor, at your reflection. Your red hair, short and sloppily cut with a pair of scissors, frames your face while brightly contrasting your plain brown eyes. You've got a rather cute face, though - could do with a little makeup, but you hardly need to show off for a dead crew. With a shrug, you flip the mask around, slotting it onto your head and activating the seals. One final check of your gear to ensure that you won't suffocate or freeze to death in the void, and you're all set.

You step towards the wall, triggering the sequence and sealing the door behind you. Standing still, waiting for the airlock to depressurize, leaves you feeling rather antsy. It's always unsettling to know that you're an inch from death every step you take; the smallest hole in your suit could send you to the brink.

You shrug, shaking your head to rid the thoughts of becoming little more than salvage for some passerby however long from now... if ever. Looking ahead, you watch the airlock open, revealing the twinkling carpet of black and white beyond.

...

>>725014

Taking several steps, you stand on the threshold of the airlock, a footstep away from floating. The magnetic boots of your suit keep you secured to the floor for the time, every step connecting with a solid thunk you only feel. The silent stillness gives you chills, your head swiveling left and right to survey the area. You venture to look down, seeing the planet below. It's all the more breathtaking without the window and assorted gear and displays in the way. If you wanted, you could nosedive right out and descend... if you were feeling suicidal.

Though you must admit, death by atmospheric entry on an alien planet is probably one of the more metal ways to go.

You turn your attention back to the shuttle. Reaching behind you, you toggle the switch to activate your maneuver pack and disengage from your ship, boosting towards the shuttle.

The distance is quickly covered, and soon enough you reach your destination, gently swiveling and careening the remaining distance on momentum. Your boots thunk and connect with the shuttle, affixing you to its surface. You plod along the surface until you find the airlock. Looking briefly around the hull of the shuttle, you find a panel and trigger the switch, hoping for the best. Your luck holds out, and the shuttle appears unlocked, the exterior airlock door sliding open at your signal. Connecting with the ship, you plod to the center of the airlock, glancing around the small, confined space, easily finding the toggle for the airlock. Another quick press, and the lock seals behind you, pressurizing the room once again. The door before you opens, granting you access inside.

Within the ship proper, there appears to be normal levels of gravity. Your steps clunk through the area as you glance around. It seems like any standard shuttle of its kind, at a glance. Nothing immediately stands out as odd. There are a handful of chairs and a table, a small shelf with various baubles, and two doors. One behind, leading to the cockpit, and one ahead, leading to the next (and likely only other) area of the shuttle. There is no sign of the Raz'ask.

>If this thing had one occupant, they were probably in the cockpit. I'll check that first.
>I think I'll check if there's anything worthwhile back there before I go poking my head in the cockpit.

>>725117
>If this thing had one occupant, they were probably in the cockpit. I'll check that first.
WE CAN STILL SAVE THE BIRB MAN

>>731944
Nothing seems immediately out of place, deadly, or contagious within the ship. While you're not confident enough to remove the helmet yet, perhaps it would be prudent to check the cockpit. If the Raz'ask was still alive, you may be able to save him. Or, if he's hostile, it'd be better to avoid him sneaking up on you. As nice as it would be to start pulling things off the shelves, better safe than sorry. Besides, if he turned out to be important, saving his life could be worth all the more.

You've done this enough to know how it works. Drawing your pistol and warily approaching the cockpit door, you press your back against the wall aside of the door. Raising your off-hand, you rap your knuckles twice against the door, leaving a resounding metal clang to echo throughout the cockpit. Pausing to wait and listen, you hear no sounds from within. Taking that as your cue, your hand reaches for the door toggle, activating the panel and stepping back. The door slides open swiftly and silently, a quiet click indicating it locked into the open position. As the door opens, the feathered form of a large Raz'ask falls to the ground face-down with a thud. Keeping your pistol trained on the feathered being, you roll it face-up with your foot. The Raz'ask is lightly spasming on the ground, foam dribbling from its parted beak. Its brown feathered are fluffed up and ruffled, as though it's in a frenzied state. Most strange of all, however, is the fact that its small, beady eyes are glowing purple, radiating a strange energy.

You've seen this energy before. It's not all that uncommon in the galaxy, really: psionics. Pyhua and Raz'ask are the most commonly psionic beings, though it isn't unheard of for any other individual of any race to develop the ability as well. This, however, looks like some kind of psionic overdose.

A blinking alert on the dashboard of the shuttle catches your attention. Glancing over the alert written in Galactic Standard Text, you read it over. It appears to be a recall alert. It reads:

ATTN:
ALL SHUTTLES RETURN TO NEST
PSIONIC INTERFERENCE ON-WORLD
EMERGENCY BUG-OUT

followed by further details and a count-down timer. The timer is currently blinking at a resounding 00:00. Looks like this shuttle was late to the party, and by the looks of the Raz'ask, it was a rather recent event.

The Raz'ask continues to spasm on the ground, beak foaming and eyes glowing.

>Put it out of its misery. A shot to the head will do.
>Try to initiate some sort of medical treatment. (Roll Medical, 1d10+4)
>>Try to look for a medical kit first, then initiate treatment. (Roll Awareness, 1d10+10, then above)
>Leave it to its fate and search the rest of the ship.
>Take whatever looks valuable and head back to your ship.

Rolled 8 + 4 (1d10 + 4)

>>739544
>Try to initiate some sort of medical treatment. (Roll Medical, 1d10+4)
A basic kit might not have anything useful for psionic injuries, so focus on getting the birdy stable before going off and looking for one.

Also we seem to be in autosage. A new thread might be needed.

>>740272
Damn. How does saving permanent archives on /qst/ work? I know how they worked on sup/tg/, does /qst/ have an equivalent?

>>740305
Suptg archives /qst/ threads too

>>740516
Great, thank you. I'll archive this thread and start a new one the next chance I get. I'm also thinking I should start hosting these threads on a more regular schedule instead of how I've been doing it, that being "whenever there's enough replies, or a long time between replies." The current method leaves much to be desired, especially when I'm trying to write a post while GMing (text-based, online) games, then have to sleep and get up for work in the morning.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/704077/

Thread is archived, I'll be starting a new one soon. Possibly Tuesdays and Saturdays, sometime in the afternoon, EST.