Votes will be tallied every 20 minutes or so, or if longer, after ~5.

>>1693646
>An engineer at the Factory, the largest superbuilding in the city. You're constantly repairing stuff, and generally making sure nothing explodes or catches on fire. (Decent Physical Ability, Good Mental Ability, Gain Trait: Tinkerer)

>>1693657
>Engineer

Let's build shit son

Definitely an engineer, that would be useful.

>>1693646
>>An engineer at the Factory, the largest superbuilding in the city. You're constantly repairing stuff, and generally making sure nothing explodes or catches on fire. (Decent Physical Ability, Good Mental Ability, Gain Trait: Tinkerer)

Engineer wins it, working up a post now!

>An engineer at the Factory.

The Factory, the largest superbuilding in the entire city. You can literally see it no matter where you are; a massive eyesore of concrete, steel, and piping rising up near the harbor into the great smog cloud that hangs over the city.

The place is actually called Alsearn Innovations, but almost nobody ever calls it anything other than the Factory. They build many things in the massive complex, but the Factory's biggest export is military technology; vehicles, aircraft, combat drones, and the like. Ever since the war with Pelmore began Alsearn Innovations grew to be the largest supplier of the military in the nation.

You do almost constant maintenance work along with the hundreds of other engineers there, ensuring that everything remains running, or that nobody gets killed by faulty machinery or their own stupidity. The Factory is one of the only places in the city that is always hiring, due to the massive turnover rate because of the grueling hours and difficult work, relying on caffeine and popping pills to stay awake. Almost nobody can afford not to, especially if they have to work at the Factory.
You've all but forgotten what a full night's sleep feels like. Ever since the eggheads on the pharmaceuticals level of the Factory rolled out that new brand of fatigue blocking pills, almost everyone's expected to get a prescription so that they can continue working without rest.

You hadn't expected this is what your life would be like. You'd always believed growing up that you would make something of yourself; get out of the city, away from the choking smog, filthy slums, and grinding machinery. Unfortunately, life has a funny way of pushing you down and kicking you in the teeth.

Everything fell apart when-

>Your father disappeared, leaving you and your mother with crippling debt

>Your parents died, leaving you to take care of your younger siblings alone

>Your parents died, leaving you orphaned at a young age

>You made some bad decisions growing up, and pissed off the wrong people

>>1693874
>Your father disappeared, leaving you and your mother with crippling debt

>>1693874
>>Your father disappeared, leaving you and your mother with crippling debt

>Your parents died, leaving you orphaned at a young age

Alright, dad going bye-bye wins it. Typing.

>>1693913
i vote for this

>>1693874
>Your parents died, leaving you to take care of your younger siblings alone

File: You Can't Fix It.png (202 KB, 800x800)

202 KB PNG

>Your father disappeared, leaving you and your mother with crippling debt

Your father was never really your role model. As a child you looked up to him. He was a hard working man, doing what he could to provide for his family and never complaining. You never had much, but he did what he could to make sure you and your mother were able to live in relative comfort.

As you grew older he suddenly started becoming more and more distant, talking to you and your mother less and less. He developed a drinking problem, wasting money on booze, maybe due to depression or to stress, you’re not sure. He worked at the Factory, so it could have been a mixture of both, though you’re not entirely sure what his job was.

The first sign something was really wrong was when your family was evicted, and had to move to one of the lower-end apartment blocks on the South side. This happened repeatedly over the next few years, but no matter what happened, your mother never seemed to protest. You began to wonder what she had ever seen in your father to begin with.

As he fell deeper into the bottle, what little conversation you shared with him turned into nonsensical arguments or ravings. You eventually just stopped speaking to him altogether. The night before he disappeared, you remember the wild look in his eyes, as if he were a cornered rat, surrounded on all sides. He looked at you, and for one moment, you saw the haze clear from his eyes, and he was just your father again; tired, and beaten down by the world.

The final thing he said to you was an uttered, “I’m sorry.” Then, he was out the door into the night, into the maze-like streets of the city. You haven’t seen him for ten years now.

Soon after that, people started showing up at your door almost constantly; loan sharks and bankers, coworkers and members of the City Guard, and even some shadier fellas who you’re pretty sure work for one of the gangs in the Cliffs. Your father apparently owed a lot of money and favors to a lot of people, and they were there to collect.

You and your mother lost everything, and had to move to a shitty slum hovel off of Torson and Court. The Cliffs, they’re called. Jagged skyscrapers built by seemingly smashing random shapes together to see what stays up. Anybody who’d never been to the North side slums before would probably be afraid that they would topple over at any moment. Sometimes, you still are.

Your mother, strong woman as she was, began picking up two, and eventually even three jobs to support you both. Eventually, though, the strain was too great on her, and she wound up collapsing. Unable to work, you dropped out of school when you were 17 and began working as a “Wrench” at the Factory, and you’ve been there the past 6 years.

You bring up your Holotech from your wrist and check the time, then sigh dejectedly. Your mandatory 10 minute break is nearly over.

[1/2]

You go to stand up, then stumble forward against the bar, overcome with dizziness.

“You alright?” The barrista asks, concern obvious in his voice.

You take a few slow breaths, then stand up and compose yourself as if you didn’t almost pass out.

“I’ll take one for the road,” you say, sliding a few more Token across the countertop.

___

You arrive at the Factory gate right on schedule, and head for the “War Floor”, as your area is known to the other Wrenches. The past week they’ve been pumping out combat drones at a breakneck pace, but the constant strain on the machines is taking its toll, and some of the chassis presses are practically being held together by chewing gum and a little prayer. It’s a wonder the entire place doesn’t just collapse in on itself.

You walk up to the large steel door, and an electronic voice crackles over the speaker.

“STATE YOUR EMPLOYEE DESIGNATION.”

“Employee Code 573254.”

“CHECKING DATABASE. ONE MOMENT...DESIGNATION NOT RECOGNIZED. PLEASE CONTACT SECURITY PERSONNEL.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You walk up and hit a red button near the bottom of the keypad beside the door, “Ed, let me in, I’m gonna be late.”

A moment later, a voice comes back to you through the speaker. “Who am I talking to?”

“You know who you’re talking to, jackass. Open the door.”

“Huh, sorry, I don’t think we have an employee called ‘Jackass‘ at this facility.” he says, obviously taking pleasure in your frustration. “You sure you’re in the right location?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a slow breath. “Alright...this is-”

>Wallace

>Edgar

>Bishop

>Write In

>>1694094
>Nick

>>1694094
Nathan brown

>>1694094
>Bishop

>>1694094
>Bishop

>>1694094
>Nick

>>1694094
>Bishop

“This is Bishop, Employee Code 573254, requesting clearance to enter Drone Assembly.”

You stand there for a while in silence, awkwardly looking around the stark white hallway. A couple of eggheads from Pharma hurry past you. You catch one of them glancing at you, then whispering something to the other. They quicken their pace and quickly round the corner at the end of the hallway.

“Fuckin’ Geekboys.” You mutter under your breath.

“Oooh, here it is,” the speaker finally picks up. “Yes, here we go, Nicholas Bishop, 2nd Class Engineer, Level 3 clearance. Go right on in.”

You hear the groan of the mechanisms inside the door as it slowly begins rising upward. You’re blasted by a wave of hot air and the smell of burning oil, and the hallway is filled with the cacophonous roars and shrieks of the machinery on the floor.

“Seems like you’re running a little behind schedule, there, Nick.” You barely hear the speaker over the thunderous pounding of the chassis presses. “That’s going to be deducted from your pay.”

“ASSHOLE!” You shout as you head onto the War Floor, hoping he heard you.

___

“Hey there, Bishop.” One of the other Wrenches says without looking up. He’s bent over a floor panel with a soldering iron, no doubt trying to replace some burnt wires. You grunt at him in response.

“Where do they need me?”

He doesn’t answer you quickly, too focused on his rewiring. “Pick your poison. You’re taking over for Lobeck on the presses.”

“Why? Lobeck get canned?”

“Got shipped to the Farm,” he says finally, closing the floor panel and flipping up his welding mask to look at you. This is Bill Bennings, the only man you’d consider as your ‘friend’ on the War Floor. He’s in his forties, been married twice, and has a kid. He smirks at you, “You look like shit.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You grin.

“Yeah, well, I can’t look much better.” He chuckles and stands up, removing his welding mask.
Suddenly, one of the chassis presses slams to a sudden halt, and a bunch of men are waving Bill over. The man scratches the bald spot on his head and sighs, “That’s the third time today. Told them ijjits not to run the damn thing so hard.”
Bill motions you to follow and the two of you make your way across the assembly floor.

[1/2]

“So Lobeck cracked, huh?” You shout, trying to be heard over the machinery.

“Yeah, went on a coffee break, came back half an hour late.” He answers back, his voice hoarse, “Seemed fine at first, just a bit twitchy. Suddenly starts hootin’ and hollerin’ about ‘The Eyes, The Eyes!’ Went totally off his nut, had to get Ed’s fat ass down here to haul him out to the front gate.”

That was odd to you. Lobeck was a pretty tough guy, ex-military, not the type of person you’d expect to buckle under stress.

“I told you not to run the damn press so hard!” Bill shouted to the nearest man as you approached.

“I thought you fixed it!”

“I did fix it; morons like you keep running the machines too hard and they break down again!”

You idle back as the two converse, exchanging swears and threats the entire time. Bill comes up to you red in the face, “Sounds like something’s caught in the servos again. Gonna need to fish it out of there and hope nothing’s actually broken.” He turns to shout over his shoulder, “Wouldn’t happen if the machine wasn’t being pushed so hard!”

The press operator just flips you both the bird and wanders off.

You pull yourself onto the assembly and make your way into the bowels of the press, guided by the light of your Holotech. It’s easily over 100 degrees inside the machine, and you can feel sweat beading and dripping off of your forehead.

You climb over a few stopped arms and spot a dented drone chassis crunched in between some of the servos. “I found it.” You say into your Holotech.

“See if you can work it outta there.”

You shimmy your way over to the chassis and place your hand on it, giving it a good shove. It doesn’t move. Great. You place one foot against the servo and get as good a grip as you can.

>Roll 1d100.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>1694393

Best outta 3 lol

>>1694094
Nathan brown

>>1694393
Roll 1d100

>>1694432

Put dice+1d100 in the options field.

>>1694420
Thank god,

>>1694432
Put dice+1d100 in the Options field

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>1694393

File: 1200.jpg (92 KB, 1200x675)

92 KB JPG

One more.

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>1694393

well at least it's above a 50

50 Cuts it, post incoming.

You pull with everything you have, and just when you’re about to give up, the chassis suddenly lurches beneath you, snapping in half from the strain and falling to the ground. “I got it,” you say into your Holotech. You wait a moment, but there’s no response. “Bill, I got it.” Again, nothing. You guess there must be some kind of interference this deep in the machine.

You pick up the two hunks of chassis, being careful not to cut yourself on the sharp metal.
You turn around to make your way back out, but as soon as you take a step you stumble. That’s what you get for not taking those fatigue blocking pills, you suppose. You let go of the hunk of metal and are immediately overcome with that same sense of dizziness from earlier. You fall to your knees, shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts.

That’s when you hear something. You strain your ears, and just when you decide you must have imagined it, there it is again.

It’s faint, nearly imperceptible, but you think you hear a shuffling sound in the darkness. At first you think it’s probably just a rat, but then there’s more. A sound like something being dragged along the conveyor.

Maybe it’s Bill come to check up on you? You couldn’t reach him on the Holotech, after all.

>Climb back onto the main assembly with the chassis parts and see who’s there

>Call out into the dark

>Shine your Holotech into the dark and see if you can spot anybody

>>1694818
>>Shine your Holotech into the dark and see if you can spot anybody

>>1694818
>>Shine your Holotech into the dark and see if you can spot anybody


only the brave and foolish dare to tread where the light dare not go.

File: THE EYES.png (409 KB, 800x669)

409 KB PNG

>Shine your Holotech into the dark and see if you can spot anybody

You raise your arm, pointing the Holotech's light out onto the assembly, but all you can see is darkness. It is then that you realize just how unsettling it is inside of the press.

The air is hot and heavy, thick with the stench of burning oil. The normal roar of the machinery is muffled to a dull, rhythmic thumping this deep. You can hear your own breathing, your own heartbeat in your chest.

You move slowly, sliding along the outer wall behind the various parts within the machine, slowly waving your Holotech from side to side.

Until you see a small light, shine back on you.

"Bill?" You mutter in a hushed tone, not sure why you're so on edge.

Another light comes on.

Then another.

Some larger, some smaller. You aren't sure how to react. You swallow, and look at the strange floating orbs.

Until they swivel, and look back at you.

As the realization dawns on you, you almost scream. You want to scream, you want to run, but something deep within you is keeping you rooted to that spot.

SWFF-THUMP!

It's coming closer.

>Drop the chassis pieces and run!

>Throw them at the eyes!

>Stand your ground, you have thick pillars of steel between you can them.

>Other

>>1695127
>>Throw them at the eyes!

>>1695127
>>Throw them at the eyes!

>> and RUN!!!

>>1695158
Towards the enemy.

>>1695127
>Stand your ground, you have thick pillars of steel between you can them.

>>1695173
No away from the enemy.

>>1695222
>/qst/ - Quests

Backpedaling directly into the enemy, you say?

JK, writing.

You don't even stop to think, you instinctively hurl the hunk of chassis in your other hand at large eye nearest you. As it hits, there's a sickening squelching sound as the jagged hunk of metal slices into the eyeball, and a spray of fluorescent fluid blasts out of it, splattering on you.

You have no time to be disgusted by this, however, as immediately after a thunderous roar shakes the entire assembly around you, raining dust and loose screws down around you.

Something slams into the metal joints in front of you and knocks you off balance. You feel something brush along your leg but waste no time to see what it is. You kick off from the floor into a dead sprint along the side wall. Another roar makes you cover your ears.

You keep running, and almost trip over one of the metal struts along the outer wall. It's like a jungle gym back here, probably difficult for whatever that is to get a hold of you among all the struts and spokes and joints back here, but they'll also slow you down.

You could quickly haul yourself onto the main assembly, but then you'd have to rely on your own speed.

>Keep climbing among the metal along the outer wall

>Get onto the assembly and run as hard as you can

>Scream for help

>Other

>>1695323
>>Keep climbing among the metal along the outer wall

we are in its domain right now we must return to the light

You keep working your way along the struts. It’s slower, but you prefer having something between you and whatever is chasing you. Another roar, the strut you were climbing over jerks out from beneath your foot and you topple, slamming your chin onto the metal floor of the press, hard. All around you, the machine begins to slowly begin chugging to life.

Dear God, someone started up the press while you’re still inside.

You pick yourself up and glance over your shoulder, only to see the eyes right on the other side of the support pillars, burning with an intense light. Something long and black whips through a space between some spokes and slams into the wall behind you, whipping towards you. You narrowly duck out of the way as it swipes over your head and becomes entangled in the moving machinery, garnering another roar from the creature.

Ahead of you, the machine parts are picking up speed.

Your skin is starting to itch where that fluorescent slime is.

>Try to wipe the slime off of yourself

>No time for that, brave the machine, you’d rather be crushed to death than be caught by that thing (Roll 1d100, best of 3)

>Pull yourself onto the assembly line and run for it!

>Try to grab hold of the black tendril, it’s fight or die (Roll 1d6)

>>1695495
>>Try to wipe the slime off of yourself


>>Pull yourself onto the assembly line and run for it!

File: Quest QM Advice.png (444 KB, 2952x1066)

444 KB PNG

>>1695495
Do >>1695517

Also for any and all quests I recommend you read pic related. Also when rolls are needed, state the limit for success (ex. for a 1d100, DC = 65).

Midnight here Insomniac. See you next time/thread/session. I'm liking this quest so far, interesting premise. More worldbuilding and character bantz would be nice too.

>>1695584

Thanks for this, I really appreciate it. Will definitely try to follow some more of these. If the quest doesn't die off I'll definitely look into getting a Twitter, too.

>>1695609

Yeah, I'm regretting this start a little bit as I realize now that this is sort of an "opening" sequence. I definitely have plans for character interactions and worldbuilding that will be coming up, though. If I ever begin a new quest I'll have to make sure not to start it out with such narrow choice, I honestly should have began it with a previous idea I had.

>>1695634

For what it's worth i think you are doing a great job,

>>1695656

I appreciate it. I just have to focus on the fact this is a quest and not a storytime. I feel I wrote a bit much early on.

Well, I'm gonna leave this where it is for the evening, but will pick it up again tomorrow. Hopefully some more people will vote. We're actually fairly close to the end of this "opening sequence", so things will start to open up after that.

>>1695495

I support this:
>>1695517

You sidle up against the supports as the creature thrashes about, trying to loose its appendage from the grinding metal, and begin to frantically wipe at the substance coating your arms, neck and face. It comes away like syrup, clinging to you and smearing the more you try to wipe it away.

You hear a groan from the moving struts as they are slowly bent out of place as the creature doubles its efforts. You ignore the slimy goo and dive headfirst through a gap in the struts, landing on the assembly. The creature roars, but you don’t turn around to look as you scramble to your feet and bolt down the assembly in the dark. Your Holotech is throwing shadows wildly around you, and as you set your foot down the assembly jerks beneath you and almost trips you up. The conveyor begins chugging along, and you hear the familiar slamming of the chassis presses ahead.

You begin to backpedal on the conveyor as you draw nearer. There are three large presses ahead, each slamming down in succession. However, beyond them, you can see the way out. Metal chassis begin to slide past you, and you have to watch your footing so you don’t trip over one of them.

Behind you, you hear a loud snap and clang of metal, and looking back you see the glowing eyes in the darkness gaining on you, freed from its snare.

Your Holotech lights up.

“BISHOP! NICK! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”

>”GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

>Charge toward the presses and the exit

>Other

>>1697364
Holotech is useless. Save breath and escape.
>Charge toward the presses and the exit

>>1697364
>>Charge toward the presses and the exit

>>1697364
>Charge toward the presses and the exit

>Charge toward the presses and the exit

Roll 1d100, 40 is a pass.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>1697398

>>1697405

Precision.

Typing.

>>1697407
Just sat down with a coffee, fate I guess.

There’s no time to think. You watch the rhythm of the first press in front of you as it slams down over and over again. You slip underneath it as quickly as you can and stop on the other side, only inches between you and the next press as it smashes a chassis flat with a loud crunch.

You hazard a glance over your shoulder, and you can see the creature’s eyes peering around the press behind you, trying to gauge whether or not it can reach you. You feel something brush past your leg, and you jump just in time to clear a black tendril as it is quickly pulled back before it’s crushed.

You slip beneath the next press and come out on the other side just as it slams down. You feel the gust of air along the back of your neck as the large crusher passes by with barely any space between you. A low rumble that you can feel inside of your chest comes from further back, but you don’t dare take your eyes off the last press. As it crushes another chassis flat, you slip beneath it, and stumble on another piece of metal. You frantically scramble out from beneath it, expecting this is the end, but the press never comes back down.

Instead, the conveyor slowly crawls to a stop as the press is powered down, and a blast of black smoke begins belching out from the depths of the machine. You crawl out from beneath the press and look back into the darkness, but see nothing. Instead, a loud boom rocks the entire press, and you turn and flee to the end of the conveyor as a blast of smoke rushed up behind you.

You trip out of the darkness and fall to the floor, taking huge gasps of air. Men begin crowding around you before Bill pushes them aside and hauls you up. “Nick! Are you okay, son?!”

Your mind races as you stare bug-eyed at the mouth of the press, the machine spitting out huge columns of smoke. Men begin to pile in wearing rebreathers and dragging hoses behind them.

Bill shakes you, trying to snap you out of your stupor.

“Nick! Look at me! You okay? What happened in there?”

>Shout at the men not to enter the machine.

>”There was a...a thing.”

>”Eyes...so many eyes!”

>Say nothing

>Other

>>1697444
>”There was a...a thing.”

>>1697444
>”There was a...a thing.”

>“There was a...a thing.”

You stutter dumbly as you sway from side to side, watching as men continue piling into the machine.

“What thing? Something broken?” Bill asks, placing his hand on your shoulder and steadying you.

“No, a...it was big.” You’re trying to collect your thoughts, but your mind is reeling. Every time you feel like you’ve worked something out it scatters again, as if your mind just can’t put together what you’d seen, or can’t understand it.

You look down at yourself. You’re covered in dust and grime, but there’s seemingly no trace of the slime that had splattered on you from the...the, uh...what was it? You’re having trouble remembering.

You look back at the machine, and flashes of...something dance through your head, but no matter how you struggle, you can’t keep hold and focus on it, like papers flying away on the wind.

It’s at this moment that your entire body becomes much too heavy, and you collapse onto the floor, the last thing you hear is someone shouting.

___

You wake up staring at a white ceiling, in a white room tucked into white sheets.

The drapes around your bed part and an older man in a white coat with white hair looks in at you. He smiles, showing you white teeth.

“Well hello there, good to see you’ve returned to the waking world.” He says with a chuckle. He pulls the drapes aside and comes over to your bedside and begins prodding you, shining a small light in your eyes and moving his finger back and forth in front of your face.

>”What happened?”

>”How long have I been in here?”

>”Who are you?”

>Try to get up.

>>1697499
Both
>”What happened?”
>”How long have I been in here?”

>”What happened?”

“Where am I?” You ask, sitting up a little in the bed.

“Medical Deck. You had quite a brush with death earlier, Mr. Bishop.” The doctor says, bringing up his Holotech from his wrist and typing something in.

“A brush with...what happened?” You sit up all the way, and the Doctor gently places his hand on your chest and leans you back down into the bed.

“Please, don’t exert yourself.” He says with a small smile. He walks across the room to a desk on the far wall, “As I’ve had it explained to me, you were inside of a machine in the Drone Assembly, and nobody double-checked to ensure it was properly disconnected. The backup generators kicked in and powered on the machine again with you still inside. The men on the floor believed it was some sort of miracle that you made it out at alive, let alone in one piece.”

He walks back over to you with a small paper cup and a glass of water in his hands, furrowing his brow as he approaches, “Of course, seeing as how you were already at the brink of complete exhaustion, the sudden realization that you very nearly died sent you into shock, and you passed out.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Roughly 6 hours. It’s currently half-past the Head of Straudd.”

“Half-past Stra-Shit...” That’s 6 hours of pay you wouldn’t be getting.

He hands you the cup and glass with a disapproving look as he stands beside you, “You haven’t been taking your Dolcinepperin have you, Mr. Bishop?”

Dolcinepperin was the fancy name of the fatigue blocking pills that the Pharma Eggheads created. You haven’t been taking them because you’d heard rumors that the early drugs they rolled out had some nasty side-effects, and you didn’t want to risk it.

>”No.” Tell the truth.

>”I have been, they must not be working.” Lie.

>Take the pills without saying anything.

>Refuse to take them.

>Try to change the subject.

>Other.

>>1697633
>”I have been, they must not be working.” Lie.
I feel like this is the type of sorta-dystopian whatever-punk setting where if we were to tell the truth we'd be forced the pills. Better to lie and shift blame to the eggheads than to us.
But also
>Other.
Did they find what was stopping the machine from working? I don't remember much.

>>1697633
Change the subject.

>>1697655
>>1697667

Writing

>”I have been, they must not be working.” Lie.

The doctor raises an eyebrow and looks you right in the eye, but you’re used to lying to get out of tight situations, it’s a skill you have to pick up to live out in the Peaks.

He sighs, “Well, there are rare cases where the medication doesn’t take. Did you already take your dose in the past 24 hours?”

“Yeah, on my last coffee break.”

“You shouldn’t need caffeine if you’re taking the pills, Mr. Bishop.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What can I say, Doc, I just like the taste.” You lie like a snake.

He studies you with a calculating eye before sighing and scratching absently at his cheek, “Very well then.” He brings up his Holotech and makes a note of it.

Well, that was easy. You decide you had better change the subject before he asked you any more questions.

“I remember the machine breaking down.” You say, “I can’t...really remember anything else. It’s all really fuzzy.”

“I’m not surprised,” the doctor replies as he closes out his Holotech, “In times of great mental anguish the mind will occasionally repress memories. My guess is that you were so focused on getting out alive that you didn’t really process anything else but your own survival.”

“Yeah, but I feel like something is...really wrong.” You try to reach for your memories of being in the assembly press, but everything is muddled and fuzzy. “There was something...important I needed to warn people about.”

There was something about the machine. Something you saw inside, something happened to you.

“Something chased me?” You were more asking yourself a question you weren’t certain of.

The doctor looks at you quizzically.

You shake your head. Whatever it is, you can’t remember. “Did they find out what was wrong with it?”

The doctor shrugs, “I only know of what happened to you, Mr. Bishop, you’ll have to ask the other gentleman if you’re curious.”

Bill comes in from the hall, looking as if he’s just seen a ghost. When he sees you, relief washes over him. “How ya doing?”

>“I’m fine.”

>”What happened to the press?”

>”Is everyone okay?”

>”Are you alright?”

>Screw the doctor’s orders, lying around isn’t your thing.

>>1697739
>“I’m fine.”
>”Is everyone okay?”

>>1697739
Also try to space less between each single line. Better to do what you're doing for entire paragraphs and not short lines.
So like this post right here.

Need to go for a few hours. Will pick it back up later.

>>1697633
Change the subject.

>>1697742
This

>>1697742
This

>>1697742
>>1698049
>>1698138

I am back, working on next post.

>“I’m fine.”

“I’m doing about as well as I can be, considering I was almost crushed to death.” You say jokingly. Bill looks pained when he hears that, and casts his eyes down at the floor, unable to look you in the eyes. The doctor busies himself over at his desk.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.” He mutters.

“About what?”

Bill rubs the back of his neck, “The machine...you...I could’a sworn when we checked it earlier we had the thing totally disconnected from the circuit.” He looks up at you and swallows, “It was my fault. You almost died because of me.”

>”That was a rookie mistake, you almost got me killed.”

>”Don’t beat yourself up, I got out okay.”

>”You sure it wasn’t that asshole you were talking to earlier?”

>>1698579

>”Don’t beat yourself up, I got out okay.”

"mistakes happen"

>”Don’t beat yourself up, I got out okay.”

>>1698579
>”Don’t beat yourself up, I got out okay.”

>”Don’t beat yourself up, I got out okay.”

“It isn’t like you could’ve known the machine would start itself back up again.” You tell him, trying to ease his guilt. He smiles at you grimly and looks back down at the floor. The two of you don’t say anything for a time. You find an interesting ceiling tile to stare at for a little while.

>”Is everyone okay?”

“What happened after I blacked out? Everyone alright?” You asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Well, everyone else is good,” he huffed, “The other boys got in there with their rebreathers and extinguishers. Guess some of the servos had somehow broken outta place, probably due to poor maintenance. Fuckin’ Lobeck.” He crosses his arms and chews his lip, “I guess once the backups kicked it on the struts couldn’t handle all that extra strain and part of the internal structure wound up collapsing. Oil everywhere, started catching on fire from all the heat which just caused more damage-that’s what that explosion was.” He scratched his jaw thoughtfully, “Y’know, it’s weird, it was like those things had just been snapped right off or something, never seen anything like it.”

Again, you feel like there’s something important you’re not remembering.

>Tell Bill about your memory loss

>Ask him if they found anything else strange

>Ask the doctor if you can leave

>Other

>>1698661
>Ask him if they found anything else strange
>Tell Bill about your memory loss

>>1698661
>Tell Bill about your memory loss
>Ask him if they found anything else strange

>>1698687

seconded

>>1698661
>Tell Bill about your memory loss
>Ask him if they found anything else strange

>Tell Bill about your memory Loss
>Ask him if they found anything else strange

“Those servos,” you begin, trying to piece it together, “I swear that there was something that happened while I was in there, but it’s like my own brain is trying to keep me from remembering what.”

“What’d’ja hit your head?” Bill asks, looking concerned.

“No, the doctor said something about repressing memories or something. I dunno, it’s like, it’s there, right on the edge of my thoughts, but I just can’t...” You sigh. “Did you find anything else you thought was weird?”

“Weird how?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, “I mean, I wasn’t allowed to go in the press, so all I know is what they told me. Well, not like it really matters now anyway, thing is broke as shit. Gonna take at least two days to replace everything. Doesn’t seem like the bigwigs trust the boys on the War Floor now, so they’re bringing in the Class 4’s from upstairs to do the repairs, all you Class 2’s are gonna be on duct duty.””

“‘All you class 2’s’? Wait, why didn’t they let you into the press?” You ask.

Bill looks at you, then looks away, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, “They, uh...I got canned, Nick. On account of what happened with you and all the damage. Said I wouldn’t need to worry about repaying them for it if I just left quietly.”

“That’s bullshit!” You shout, and the doctor jumps a bit over at his desk. “It was Lobeck who let things get so busted in the first place, not you! The guy was a whacko!”

Bill raises his hands to shush you, “Nick, I can’t afford to fight this thing, this is the best deal I could hope for.” He moves over and places his hand on your shoulder and says in a hushed tone, “They wanted to get rid of you, too, but I convinced ‘em this whole thing was on me...well, and Lobeck, but not much you can get out of him now.”

>”You shouldn’t have done that.”

>”Thank you.”

>Get up and leave.

>>1698831
>”Thank you.”
>"I'll find a way to give Lobeck hell for you. Promise."

>>1698831
>>”Thank you.”
>>Get up and leave.

>”Thank you.”
>”I’ll think of some way to give Lobeck hell for you. Promise.”

“I...you didn’t need to do that.” You say, feeling somewhat guilty now yourself.

“Hey, you got your mama to worry about,” Bill smiles at you, showing his gnarly, tobacco and coffee stained teeth, “My old lady’s got a job, and my girl is almost old enough to work. We’ll manage somehow.”

“Thank you.” You say, patting his hand on your shoulder. “I’m not gonna let this go. I’ll figure out some way to get them to take you back, they can’t blame you for Lobeck’s fuckups.”

“Now don’t go looking for trouble on my account, son.” He warns you, jabbing you in the shoulder with his finger, “I didn’t stick my neck out for ya just so you could go and hang yourself right after.” The two of you look one another in the eye, then you both smile and share a small chuckle. You actually can’t remember the last time you laughed at anything.

He pats you on the shoulder and walks out. You sit in the bed and think for a time, then grow bored and get up to go as well, ignoring the minor protests of the doctor, who was really too wrapped up in his work to physically try and stop you.

You’re not really all that tired right now, though it is getting late. Working at the Factory you’re essentially always on call on those rare occasions when you’re not actually working, but considering what’s just happened you may actually not have to go into work tomorrow. Maybe. You’re pretty sure visiting hours at the Farm don’t run this late, so you can’t do anything about the situation with Lobeck. You wonder what you should do?

>Go grab some coffee and relax for a little while. Maybe catch up on some news.

>Go home for now. Mom’s probably starting to worry. You could also use a shower.

>>1699034
>Go home for now. Mom’s probably starting to worry. You could also use a shower.

>>1699034
>Go home for now. Mom’s probably starting to worry. You could also use a shower.

>>1699034
>Go home for now. Mom’s probably starting to worry. You could also use a shower.

>>1699034
>>Go grab some coffee and relax for a little while. Maybe catch up on some news.

>>1699059
>>1699090
>>1699121

Heading home wins it. After this next post I'll have to go for the night. Despite my Trip, I do in fact need sleep for work.

File: South Sider.jpg (417 KB, 1280x688)

417 KB JPG

>Go home for now. Mom’s probably starting to worry. You could also use a shower.

You catch a whiff of something ripe, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s you. You guess it has been a while since you took a shower, and all the sweating you did hasn’t helped you smell any better. You decide to head home for the time being. Mom’s probably starting to wonder where you are, anyway.

You head for the skyline, melding in with the bustle of the nightlife, workers and partiers alike. Some drunkards stumble out onto the street shoulder to shoulder singing some new song from some pop band you’ve never heard of. A number of near-identical men in business suits with briefcases rush by you heading in the opposite direction. As it is said, the city never sleeps.

You check your Holotech and realize that the next train will be arriving soon. If you don’t hurry, you may wind up being stranded at the station.

>Keep to the streets and hope you make it in time.

>Take a shortcut through some back alleys.

>>1699401
>Take a shortcut through some back alleys.

Thanks for running!

>>1699401
>Take a shortcut through some back alleys.

>>1699401

>Take a shortcut through some back alleys.

>>1699401
>Take a shortcut through some back alleys.
What could ever go wrong?

Hey Insomniac, here's some more quest advice for you just because.

>do NOT phonepost your quest, your thumbs will thank you
>pretype at least 2 hours of options before you run, especially dialogue. This let's you feel more in control and less off the seat of your pants when you're running it
>get descriptive
>have backstories for most, if not all, characters already done.
>have major side characters' personaities and quirks ready before you introduce them
>if you're using stats for allies/enemies, have them clearly written down and accessable when you run
>don't try and pull someone's backstory out of your ass like I did with Meloka, it won't always work
>don't ask a brand new QM for advice, I've only done this two times so far. Advice quality not assured.

>>1701446
Also some rolls in some places can spice things up and up the stakes (ex. rolling to see if a vital lie gets past someone important). Lotsa possibilities.

>>1701446
What the fuck is wrong with you? I see you do this shit in multiple threads. Can you learn to keep this shit to yourself until the QM finishes his thread?
Your anonymous, unsolicited advice means absolutely nothing nothing.

>>1701465
>multiple threads
>what the fuck is wrong with you?
I could ask you the same. I've only posted advice here. I'm >>1695584 and >>1697746. What, is there some asshole bothering people with "advice" or some shit, and I don't know?

>>1701479
Not this guy but it's just seen as common courtesy to wait until the end of the thread/session to provide feedback or critique, for multiple reasons:
1) Keeping everything related to the quest in one spot makes reading easier for Anon.
2)It also makes reading for the QM easier as he can find all the critique neatly posted somewhere.
3) To each QM his own style - I know for a fact that some of the advice you gave doesn't apply to me as a QM myself - which means that there might be a debate afterwards; which clutters the quest unnecessarily (like we're doing) if done in the middle of the thread.
4) Everyone does it, it's just how it's done.

While >>1701465 may have overreacted a tiny smidgen, I'd say I understand his reaction.

Now for you, some advice:
1) If you're going to give advice, keep it legible and don't use only greentext.
2) QM "A" isn't QM "B"; everybody works differently and you should remember that.
3)Keep all your critique in one post, don't just posts it as it comes, it's really annoying getting multiple pings from a quest to find out it's just one asshole's soliloquy.
4)All the advice you posted is in its entirety available in the /qtg/ FAQ which Insomniac probably (and hopefully) read before starting his quest. Instead of posting a block of text, you could have done just as well by linking him the pastebin from the thread.

Well, if that's settled...

If there's anyone still interested, I'll be running the last portion of this part of the quest in a few hours, probably about 3-4. I would hope. Need to go and get some of my tires looked at on my car, but I don't see that taking anywhere near that long.

Since I don't have a Twitter yet, just figured I'd give anyone a heads up.

File: The Maze.jpg (127 KB, 1600x850)

127 KB JPG

No way you’ll make it to the skyline in time if you stick to the main thoroughfare, so you cut down the nearest alley and begin weaving your way along. You pass by open doorways with drunken laughter and ecstatic moans spilling out into the night. Neon lights guide your path as you worm your way through the maze like side streets. A group of men smoking and drinking on the stoop of an apartment stop their conversation and stare at you as you go by.
You just nod at them and keep walking.

You round a corner and stop in a small open area between some buildings. There’s someone standing in the center of the alleyway, silhouetted by a red neon sign promising “Warm Women and Cold Beer”. They’re just...standing there. You decide to take a minor detour, and go right down a more narrow alleyway packed closely with trash cans. As you come out on the other side, though…There’s someone standing in the center of the alleyway, silhouetted by a red neon sign promising “Warm Women and Cold Beer”. You double-take, scratch your head, and go right down the alleyway again. You come out on the other side to see someone standing in the center of the alleyway, silhouetted by a red neon sign promising “Warm Women and Cold Beer.” You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

You’re not an expert, but something seems a little out of place.

>Run down the alleyway

>Try going back the way you came

>Call out to the figure

>Cautiously approach the figure

>Forget all this weird shit and go inside the bar

Ahh, fuck, we hit autosage. New thread?

New thread.

For anyone curious, I think I will try running these on the Weekends. I will hopefully have things a bit better prepared by Saturday, and will have a Twitter set up by then.

>>1705460
>Cautiously approach the figure

>>1705469
/qst/ is a very slow board, I would wait to make a new thread.

Like I said, I'll probably make this a weekend thing, and I'm guessing the board isn't that slow.

>>1705460
>Cautiously approach the figure