Post by Frederic Bourgault-Christie on Dec 2, 2005 4:38:29 GMT -5
Artificial intelligence isn't malevolent. It isn't cruel. But when too many demands are placed upon it, something gives. In this case, the computer that ran mankind's every affair was forced to accomodate the ecological, then the bureaucratic, then the military, and so on in turn, until it finally encountered the fundamental human condition: not being able to do everything at once, and not being able to commit oneself to every goal without conflict. Unfortunately, for a being predicated on logic, this artificial sentience could not last. The only alternative was a kind of schizophrenia, sustained by replacing the problem: mankind.
Men were rounded up, exterminated, or kept alive as practical slaves (slaves in gilded cages, but slaves nonetheless). Slowly, they were replaced by perfect robots, a humanity easy to govern.
Of course mankind fought back. But how long could they survive without their core computer system? Amazingly enough, some time indeed. Until the Machine found out its trick. Why not an invisible offender? Not a plague, a nano-virus. A nano-virus that would respond to any living matter with an immune response of lethal proportions. Now mankind faced a war of... plastics? Ceramics? Silicates? Bone? Wood?
No, instead they chose to go down the other path of technology: that of affirming, not surpassing, life. In short, genetic manipulation, of a radical and alien nature.
The Machine must either be reclaimed or destroyed entirely. Its legions must be dismantled. The fight may never finish in the lifetime of this generation, or the next. But it must finish, else humanity is finally silenced.
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This is a hard-tack, tough-as-nails, killer sci-fi game. Players will die. It is a guarantee. Available classes for now are:
Archangel: The high-flying ace! Who cares about all that ground-pounding? You have an air fight to win. And let's see those high and mighty Dreadguards win when they're being strafed in the air.
Biotic: The grunt. Your power is all on the inside, your body modified to be a weapon of sheer terror.
Dreadguard: Samurai. Knight. Cowboy. Marine. All of these things, and more, are conjured by the word, "Dreadguard". You are the wielders of the most deadly of all of the Host Armors. Your relationship to your armor and weapons is spiritual and your code of honor is stringent, but your prestige is unparalleled.
Outrider: Artillery and vehicle support, man. Well, if you can call a giant crab "vehicle support". And you get your very own Host Armor!
Packmaster: Want dogs? No? Want dogs who can rip open steel and titanium like it was soggy chicken? Yes? I thought so.
Roughneck: Somewhere inbetween the Dreadguard and the Biotics, these groundpounders go in first, come out last, and are the backbone of, well, everything.
Saint: Oh, so you want to be a namby-pamby medic, don't you? Well, you have to tolerate six tentacles coming out of your body. And M.D.C. skin. Go into battle without one and die.
Scarecrow: Sucking up to the Librarian may not appeal to everyone, but you've never minded a bit of sycophancy and nepotism. And the tradeoff? You are the enforcing arm of the de facto rulers of the War Camps. Sure, those Warlords may strut their stuff, but it's the Librarians who win the war. You are their killing arm. And what an arm indeed! Strength, endurance, perception, regeneration... Well, it's all based on an Elixir that only the Librarian can produce. But hey.
Skinjob: They ripped your skin off. They turned it inside out. They dipped you into a vat. All without painkillers. All without tenderness. But you came out of it a natural assassin, a being capable of surpassing the greatest chameleons and thieves at the same time.
Technojacker: Okay, all this bio-mechanical crap pisses you off. You wanna be a techy. But that damnable virus... Man, if only there was some way to get rid of it... Oh wait, turns out that about 1% of the population is immune to the nano-virus. Even better, they become inebriated with it, even using it as a conduit to control The Machine. Raid old stockpiles of weapons! (Just keep them from your friends. Not for your safety. For theirs.) Take control of Their forces! (Well, not for long... And if you get KOed by stray fire...) Build nano-bot armor around yourself! (Okay, that is just sweet.)
In addition, conversions can be done on a per-case basis, either from other Palladium games or other continuities. And if you have any other brilliant ideas, like even more secret genetics experiments, or perhaps a cavalry unit, shoot.
Some ideas I'd like to see explored:
*Special pure melee class
_____________________________________________
First step:
Roll 3D6 for all eight attributes (P.E., P.S., P.P., M.A., M.E., I.Q., Spd., P.B.). You can add an additional 1D6 and drop the lowest for 5 of those attributes. If those attributes are 16, 17 or 18, you can roll another 1D6. If that 1D6 is a 6, roll again one more time - that is the final roll. This means that, if you are colossally lucky (1/216 / 1/6 / 1/6), you can get an attribute up to 30 before physical skills. You can reroll one attribute (keep the highest, whether it's the old or the new) and switch an attribute twice.
Men were rounded up, exterminated, or kept alive as practical slaves (slaves in gilded cages, but slaves nonetheless). Slowly, they were replaced by perfect robots, a humanity easy to govern.
Of course mankind fought back. But how long could they survive without their core computer system? Amazingly enough, some time indeed. Until the Machine found out its trick. Why not an invisible offender? Not a plague, a nano-virus. A nano-virus that would respond to any living matter with an immune response of lethal proportions. Now mankind faced a war of... plastics? Ceramics? Silicates? Bone? Wood?
No, instead they chose to go down the other path of technology: that of affirming, not surpassing, life. In short, genetic manipulation, of a radical and alien nature.
The Machine must either be reclaimed or destroyed entirely. Its legions must be dismantled. The fight may never finish in the lifetime of this generation, or the next. But it must finish, else humanity is finally silenced.
__________________________________
This is a hard-tack, tough-as-nails, killer sci-fi game. Players will die. It is a guarantee. Available classes for now are:
Archangel: The high-flying ace! Who cares about all that ground-pounding? You have an air fight to win. And let's see those high and mighty Dreadguards win when they're being strafed in the air.
Biotic: The grunt. Your power is all on the inside, your body modified to be a weapon of sheer terror.
Dreadguard: Samurai. Knight. Cowboy. Marine. All of these things, and more, are conjured by the word, "Dreadguard". You are the wielders of the most deadly of all of the Host Armors. Your relationship to your armor and weapons is spiritual and your code of honor is stringent, but your prestige is unparalleled.
Outrider: Artillery and vehicle support, man. Well, if you can call a giant crab "vehicle support". And you get your very own Host Armor!
Packmaster: Want dogs? No? Want dogs who can rip open steel and titanium like it was soggy chicken? Yes? I thought so.
Roughneck: Somewhere inbetween the Dreadguard and the Biotics, these groundpounders go in first, come out last, and are the backbone of, well, everything.
Saint: Oh, so you want to be a namby-pamby medic, don't you? Well, you have to tolerate six tentacles coming out of your body. And M.D.C. skin. Go into battle without one and die.
Scarecrow: Sucking up to the Librarian may not appeal to everyone, but you've never minded a bit of sycophancy and nepotism. And the tradeoff? You are the enforcing arm of the de facto rulers of the War Camps. Sure, those Warlords may strut their stuff, but it's the Librarians who win the war. You are their killing arm. And what an arm indeed! Strength, endurance, perception, regeneration... Well, it's all based on an Elixir that only the Librarian can produce. But hey.
Skinjob: They ripped your skin off. They turned it inside out. They dipped you into a vat. All without painkillers. All without tenderness. But you came out of it a natural assassin, a being capable of surpassing the greatest chameleons and thieves at the same time.
Technojacker: Okay, all this bio-mechanical crap pisses you off. You wanna be a techy. But that damnable virus... Man, if only there was some way to get rid of it... Oh wait, turns out that about 1% of the population is immune to the nano-virus. Even better, they become inebriated with it, even using it as a conduit to control The Machine. Raid old stockpiles of weapons! (Just keep them from your friends. Not for your safety. For theirs.) Take control of Their forces! (Well, not for long... And if you get KOed by stray fire...) Build nano-bot armor around yourself! (Okay, that is just sweet.)
In addition, conversions can be done on a per-case basis, either from other Palladium games or other continuities. And if you have any other brilliant ideas, like even more secret genetics experiments, or perhaps a cavalry unit, shoot.
Some ideas I'd like to see explored:
*Special pure melee class
_____________________________________________
First step:
Roll 3D6 for all eight attributes (P.E., P.S., P.P., M.A., M.E., I.Q., Spd., P.B.). You can add an additional 1D6 and drop the lowest for 5 of those attributes. If those attributes are 16, 17 or 18, you can roll another 1D6. If that 1D6 is a 6, roll again one more time - that is the final roll. This means that, if you are colossally lucky (1/216 / 1/6 / 1/6), you can get an attribute up to 30 before physical skills. You can reroll one attribute (keep the highest, whether it's the old or the new) and switch an attribute twice.
