darkwombat

Been away for a bit, just got back and watched this episode. Laughed. My Ass. Off! Seriously, that was comedy gold there, with D.W. arming the C-4 and forgetting to throw it, then wandering into the stun gas and seemingly exploding -- I was laughing so hard at your commentary, Fend. I knew the C-4 detonation was coming before it happened, and I was simultaneously going "oh crap! oh crap!" and greatly anticipating your reaction -- you did NOT disappoint, my friend. The loss of the other squaddies later was a bummer, but sometimes the missions where everything goes to crap are the most memorable. Looking forward to catching up on the next few episodes, but had to post my reaction to #10 -- it sucked for the Xenonauts but it was a lot of fun to watch!

Wait, let me get this straight -- you're bringing Msv "Plasma Magnet" Knight and Dark "Friendly Fire" Wombat in as rookies . . . together? (deep breath) Msvknight, I apologize in advance, I swear I thought you were an alien, and I look forward to meeting your second incarnation.

If we're doing a "this has all happened before . . . " theme for this playthrough, then I say throw Darkwombat back in there! You can find his backstory in (longish) form in the previous LP's thread. Boomstick again, please, only if you can find a soldier with decent TU's and bravery -- otherwise, outfit him as you see fit. If the most suitable soldier happens to be female, so be it, I'll do a new backstory as a female character. Please name her "WickedWombat" in such an eventuality. Thanks for the entertainment of the first playthrough, looking forward to play #2! I'll close with some random advice, some of which you may have already seen in other comments, from the first playthrough: 1. Don't intercept alien fighters with foxtrots. They can't use evasive meneuvers and their missiles generally won't hit the agile alien fighters. 2. Avoid night missions. You can, and should, allow your dropship to "patrol" near the crash site until daylight arrives. To do this, you can click on the en route dropship and choose "patrol" to have it hover in place -- don't worry, it can do this for a long time. Once daylight has come to the area, click the en route dropship again, choose "Select new target" and then send it to the crash site. 2a. You can, and often should, have your dropship go from one crash site directly to another one without going back to base first. I see you are doing about one ground mission per alien "wave" and I think that works well from the standpoint of keeping the LP moving along, but it is definitely hurting your cash flow. In my own (very slow paced) campaign I am hitting at least 50% of the crash sites with my squads, and the corresponding increase in cash and alien materials is very helpful. I just don't know if that will mess up the "flow" of the LP too much to be practical for you. 2b. One exception to point #2 is in the case of a terror site, or possibly a crash site that has already been on the map for a long time. You may not want to risk the site disappearing while you "patrol" and wait for daylight. I think you will find for ordinary crash sites, though, that delaying for daylight is worth it and does not often result in the site disappearing before daylight arrives. 3. Always load every soldier up until they are just one tick into the red on their encumbrance. This trains their strength after every battle. Always try to let each and every soldier on the squad get at least one shot at an alien. Doesn't matter if they hit or not, doesn't matter if it is at ridiculous, extreme range -- just matters that they take the shot, even if they have no chance of hitting the alien. Doing this will train accuracy for each soldier that took a shot at an alien. 4. Aliens with helmets (officers) are immune to stun gas. 5. If you end up with a soldier in an exposed position and out of TU's, have a different soldier throw a smoke grenade on him. Every squaddie should have a smoke grenade if possible -- having the ability to pop a smoke cloud at a moment's notice will save your squaddie's lives repeatedly.

I got A FEVER! And the only prescription is . . . MORE COWBELL!

ooh! ooh! Put me in! Callsign: Wombat Sex: Whichever Race: Human General Appearance: Your choice Role: Assault (I loves me some shotgun)

Dirk, THAT was awesome. You outdid yourself on that story. Fantastic job! I had an awful feeling when I saw that base mission, that Winters wasn't coming home... I want to write something for when D. Dub hears the news of Winters' and Chefsbrian's passing, but I won't get a chance for a few days (Gen Con!!! Woot!) R.I.P. Major Nathaniel Winters, and Sergeant Chefsbrian. We've got it from here, gentlemen. *salute* EDIT: Edited for rank correction.

Oh! Oh, yeah, I . . . forgot to change that. Yes. Because DW was definitely not doing that stalker thingy. Nope. No sirree, Bob. And even if he was, he definitely wasn't thinking about licking anyone's forehead. Because (heh, heh) that would be WEIRD! Heh. Yep, gonna change that date right now.

Heh, that is true -- sorry, I've been lagging behind a little bit. Between work and getting ready for vacation I haven't gotten much time to write. Yes, putting them in chrono order would be a good idea. When I get time, I might go back and edit my previous submissions to reflect the game date, or at least put (after mission 11) or whatever to help identify. Still waiting with a mixture of interest and dread to see the fearsome Episode 15! Fend has got me all nervous, lol.

01December1979 2000 Hours Maximus Base Darkwombat walks away from Lt. Winters' door. (Nathan's door, he mentally corrects himself, and smiles at the thought. It will take him a little time to get used to being the same rank as his former squad leader!) The new lieutenant walks back toward his quarters, his limping gait noticeable but becoming less so every day. "Sven and the PT guys in Medical are amazing! I can't believe I'm already up and walking around" he thinks. He thinks back to Winters, and the Sake bottle on the table. Mentally, he blesses the two lovebirds. "Hope Aki and you are happy together, Nathan. You deserve it, my friend." The thought of their romance in the midst of the chaos of this campaign brings D. Dub's mind back to Rosalie. He had assumed that she would be in command of the new strike team at Columbia, being the most senior lieutenant on base, but brass had dictated otherwise and D.W. found himself with orders to take command of the Columbia squad. He had never asked for this. He knew there were some on the squad who felt it a travesty that D.W. -- the sergeant who had slaughtered Fend -- was now in command of the squad. To be honest, Lieutenant Williams himself wondered if brass was making the right decision. It complicated things with Rosalie, too -- though with the hurry of packing up for Columbia, the memorial for Corporal Walker, and his aggressive therapy schedule, D.W. had barely gotten more than a few minutes alone with her since he awoke in his hospital bed. "And those minutes were spent in light conversation, both of us carefully not looking anywhere near the elephant in the room while we talked squad ops, base gossip, and the like," he thinks to himself. "Probably for the best -- the timing is just all wrong with the transfer to the new base. Gotta keep our minds on the mission." Still . . . when he woke, hurting like hell all over, and felt her holding his hand . . . D.W. smiles at the memory. The next day, Columbia squad ships out. David takes time to seek out Winters, who is shaking hands with each of the departing troopers. D.W. waits until the others have said their goodbyes, and then takes Nathan by the hand, shaking firmly as he says "It's not gonna be the same without you out there, my friend. I hope I can do even half as well as a squad leader for Columbia, as you did by me." When Winters makes a dismissive gesture at the compliment, D.W. says "I mean it, LT" DW leans in close, his voice a whisper meant only for Winters: "And when you are looking at those tags on your wall, I hope you remember this: There are a lot of tags still hanging around troopers necks that WOULD be on somebody's wall, if not for you. Pretty sure mine is among them. You aren't perfect, LT . . . but you are a damn good leader, in part BECAUSE you count the cost of those tags on the wall, and don't you ever forget it! If I can bring my people back alive from our missions, much of the credit for that will go to the example you set, and the fact that you didn't wash me out of here, when you could've." With that, D.W. slaps Nathan on the back, then meets his eye purposefully. "Godspeed until we meet again, Nathan. Kick some alien ass, and come home in one piece." Winters returns D.W.'s gaze with a smile and replies "Until then, D. Dub. You and your people be careful out there. Good hunting!" The transport's engines rumble to life, and D.W. hurries to board, not looking back. Minutes later, Columbia squad is in the air. Dr. Barlowe, the base psychiatrist, moves to stand next to Winters. "Brass ignored my input on the matter, I told them he wasn't ready to command a squad after that wound and the friendly fire incident. How about you? Do you think he's ready, Lieutenant Winters?" Winters shoots a sideways glance at the doc, remaining silent as he watches the transport quickly recede to a dot on the horizon, then disappear entirely from view. Finally he speaks. "Hell, doc, do you think ANY of us are ready? He'll do the best he can, like we all do. For the record, I think his best could be pretty damn good."

I took the liberty of making a free chat room for any interactive RP people might want to do for Fend's series, or just Xenonauts in general. Room link: http://www.chatzy.com/91352184658054 Password: the name of the game that brought us all here (Starts with a capital X) EDIT: Fend, on an unrelated note, regarding your question about successors -- if D.W. kicks the bucket in a future episodeand Frenchy is still alive, I'd like to start writing for her. (What? Don't look at me like that. She wouldn't be my first female character, probably not my last either. . . I said don't look at me like that, dagnabit!) If Frenchy is not alive at that point, I would probably (with your kind permission) pick a different unclaimed trooper in the squad to write for, since I seem to have killed off D.W.'s family (no brothers, son, etc to bring in!)

I wouldn't mind if berserking meant shooting wildly at the aliens with a (greatly) increased chance of friendly fire to any Xenonauts who were more-or-less in the line of fire. But it does seem that every time my guys berserk, they fire into a nearby squadmate. Repeatedly. I justify this to myself as the aliens getting into the 'nauts head, making him see his buddies as grotesque aliens. But if it isn't supposed to be alien mind control, then I agree it is a little messed up to unload into a buddy repeatedly like that, just due to fear.

I like most of Fantasy Flight's stuff. Components look good, and they generally don't publish any games that are absolute garbage, so I am guessing the game mechanics are at least decent, hoping for excellent! As I believe someone mentioned in the article (or maybe the comments on the article) they did an excellent job with the board-game version of BSG, so I have high hopes. I wish it was based on Xenonauts instead of the Firaxis game, but I'll take what I can get! (Speaking of board games, anybody else planning to attend Gen Con next week in Indy?)

OOC1: This is actually a post relating to episode #11 -- didn't get it finished before #12 came up. IC: Twenty-five thousand. Darkwombat tried to picture the number in his head -- it was a number greater than the population of his hometown, and the town beside it, and the town down the road from those, and the town next over from that. . . he shook his head, trying to clear it of the enormity of the loss. Most of the base was spending their off-duty hours glued to the TV news, watching the aftermath of the massacre at Anchorage. Alien ships hovered over the city, enormous beams of plasma lancing down, whole buildings literally exploding. Over twenty-five thousand were dead, or presumed dead. Sergeant Williams thought back to his mother, long ago, walking beside the grey as she was led to the ship. She had been as docile as a lamb. With a shudder, Darkwombat prayed to God that the missing *were* dead, for the alternative -- life as a captive of the aliens -- that was a thought that made his stomach roil with dread. The mood on the base was grim. Fury and battle-lust emanated from nearly every soul on the base, and even the science geeks and the gearheads were muttering about grabbing rifles and getting revenge. Base leadership had to work hard to keep their people under control -- tempers flared and several serious fights -- one involving combat knives -- erupted between the scientists and the engineering team. The combat troops didn't come to blows, but many seethed in a quiet, private cloud of their own fury. Twenty-five thousand . . . He thought back to the evening that "Frenchie" Lefevre had spoken to him, urged him to find a place inside himself, a fortress to withstand the psionic attacks of the Caesans. D.W. had wondered what the pretty lieutenant had found within herself that had given her the confidence she seemed to display as she spoke to him. He had hoped he would get the chance to find out. It was the following day that the aliens struck Anchorage. Shortly thereafter, the fighter jocks managed to down an alien Corvette in Norway. D.W. was eating breakfast in the chow hall when the klaxxon sounded, and the call went out: "Strike team prepare for combat, cold weather gear. Lieutenant Winters, report to briefing room 3." D.W. was healed up from his previous wounds, the plasma having left him a nice scar as a reminder, but otherwise leaving him unimpaired. His hand brushed the pale, hairless expanse of the scar across his right pectoral as he stripped off his BDU's and wriggled into the thermal underclothes he would wear beneath his uniform and armor. The sergeant growled "Shoot me all you want, you alien bastards. But you don't get to kill me today!" He found that he wanted to live. He wanted to come back to base. He wanted to hear Rosalie's answer to his question, awkward as he had been asking it. (That's Lt. Lefevre's answer to you, sergeant!), he silently corrected himself, shaking his head at the foolish idea regarding Lt. Lefevre that he wouldn't even allow himself to consciously entertain, but which hovered stubbornly at the periphery of his mind. As the Janeway touched down in Norway, D.W. found himself once again paired with Lt. Fayru. If Fayru hated D.W. for gunning down his best friend, he never let it show while on mission. Off mission, he simply didn't interact with D.W. unless it was absolutely necessary. But now, Fayru was all business, using his oversized riot shield to protect himself, Marty, and D.W. as they watched the northern perimeter. D.W. wasn't sure what to think about Marty. The Canadian seemed a little odd, with his wild fish stories and seeming obsession with that odd-looking pellet gun -- but D.W. had seen the guy shoot on the range. He had to admit he was impressed. Marty was a wizard on the range. If he could maintain that kind of accuracy under fire, then D.W. wanted him on his flank, fish stories or no. Movement to the northwest -- some sort of drone hovering nearby. It turned, humming with electronic menace, and unleashed a barrage of plasma at the little group of Xenonauts on the north perimeter! Chefsbrian moved up and quickly put two laser blasts into the thing, but it didn't go down. Diving for cover, D.W. and the others couldn't get a clear shot at it, and it fired again, hitting Trashman no less than three times, and wounding him seriously. The rocketeer grunted in surprise, then hissed in pain as Nathaniel Winters brought his weapon up and blew the drone away. D.W. hurried to check on Trashman. The wound was a nasty one, and the familiar smell of burned flesh assaulted D.W.'s nose as he said "Don't worry, Trashman, we can fix this!" He brought out a medkit and field-dressed the wound, using the experimental drugs and dressings the tech-boys at base had said were near-miraculous at stabilizing plasma wounds. The treatment seemed to help, but Trash was definitely looking at some time with Sven and the medical staff if he survived the mission. The little droid proved to be the least of the squad's worries, as a hulking humanoid robot emerged from the snowy treeline and opened fire on the team. As if in concert, the rookie private, Kate Walker, opened fire with her laser rifle, damaging the machine severely. Lt. Winters finished it with a grenade. Even in the heat of the moment, D.W. saw the shadow that crossed Winters' face as he looked at the remnants of the robot. "Not his first time seeing these things" D.W. thought to himself. "They must be pretty bad-ass if they shake the LT up enough to show." The rest of the advance to the alien ship was a slog, house-to-house fighting with the whirring, pitiless robots giving no ground, fighting until they collapsed into heaps of smoking metallic rubble. Finally, the squad entered the ship, carefully advancing up the main hall. Fayru surprised a 'bot lurking just around the corner, and hit it with a glancing shot from his laser pistol as he dashed back into cover behind the wall. Carefully advancing again, Fayru scored another hit, but the robot was lining up a hit on Fayru. All Darkwombat could think of, was that he had to protect Fend's buddy -- he owed him that much! Roaring wordlessly, the sergeant leapt to his feet and charged! The 'bot fired, and D.W. took a painful hit to the right leg. Screaming as he felt the plasma melting through his armor, then his uniform, then his flesh, he fired his laser carbine from the hip. He was rewarded with a hit, but the robot wouldn't fall! It fired again, and D.W.'s mind exploded with pain as it seemed the heat of a hundred suns suffused his body with agony. "This is it. No more than I deserve, I guess. I hope Fayru and the others make it out alive. Would'a been nice to know what Rosalie was gonna tell me. Fend, I'm so sorry, man . . . Mom . . .Dad . . . I--" D.W. passed out, his uniform in flames, the strange barbecue aroma of his newly roasted flesh filling the air. The last thing he heard was the rookie, ChefsBrian, roaring "NO! NO, you metal bastard!" and the sizzle of laser beams scorching the air . . . Days later, D.W. awakened in medical, hazily looking around with that kind of fuzzy unconcern that comes only from the really *good* painkillers. There was a woman in the chair by his bed. He couldn't see clearly enough to tell who it was, but she seemed . . . familiar somehow. "Mom? Mom is that you? I thought the aliens wouldn't let you come back, Mom. Or are we dead? Being dead ain't so bad, I guess. So tired . . . just stay awhile, Mom. Don't leave me alone again . . ." As D.W. blacked out again, Lieutenant Rosalie Lefevre reached out to touch his hand. "You aren't alone, David. You rest, now. You will be fine." She looked up to the doctor for confirmation of her words. He paused, opened his mouth, then closed it again and merely nodded his head. Rosalie sighed in relief, and whispered "You rest now . . . *Lieutenant* Williams." EDIT: OOC2: Daaaaaaaaawwwww, Hiro is so cute!

OOC Commentary and mission reaction follows: Marty! Awesome to see some story from you, man! Very well written, I like! I hope we'll see more? Trashman, good to see you jumping into the literary soup we got cookin' here, too! Looking forward to hearing more about the Trashman. Dirk, Lt. Winters is taking that last mission pretty hard. Good writeup as always, fits well with what we've learned of Lt. Winters so far. Tough, but with a deep core of concern for his men. Hopefully between Aki and Hiro, they can get our fearless squad leader back to a better mental place soon. I was disappointed to see Kate Walker pass, I was considering putting her in a little sub-plot with Darkwombat but I guess I'll work up something else instead. Plenty to work with, for sure! Fend, as always, thanks for posting these. You cracked me up with your plan for illicit use of stun grenades for recreational purposes. That might wind up in a story.... Also, just a reminder that if you are planning to have a 'naut shoot and then crouch and end their movement, it is always better to crouch *first* for an accuracy bonus. You probably already knew that, but it was news to me after I had been playing for a while, so thought I'd mention it. I still need to write up a story for D.W. regarding episode 11 -- maybe I'll get time to do that later this evening.

A Norwegian fox with a Japanese name. International fox of mystery!! Great read, as always, Dirk! As for illicit interpersonal relations and certain French lieutenants . . . I'm sure I can't imagine what you could be referring to, boss. *wanders off, merrily whistling "Alouette, Gentille Alouette"*