Psion Quest 42
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Your name is Heather, and not long ago, you killed someone.
He was asking you to. Begging you to. Saying strange words you somehow knew wasn't meant entirely for you.
But... there was nothing else you could do. You could've tried to help, but he *needed* to be strapped into that machine to live.
Rho was asleep in your arms, having clung to you until she did, and Anna was sitting next to you, hand on your shoulder.
"... We should probably go get some dinner," Anna said, quietly, before stretching. "And then I get to do my new exercises. Yay," She added in a sarcastic tone.
You were quiet as you and Anna walked, you stuck in your own head for the most part. Anna, in a strange mood, was babbling like she rarely did.
"And then he said that 'well, you're looking better, but you've skimped out on any sort of physical exercise', so now I have to make sure to keep fit and eat a lot more than I have been." She said. "And apparently, the rations won't do it for me. So basically, dad's choosing my meals for me. He even talked with the administration to make sure I get more of those protein shakes and nutrient biscuits. Which sucks. But it's for my own good, doc said."
Robotnik Heavy Industry Quest
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You are Dr. Ivo Robotnik, CEO of Robotnik Heavy Industries, a company that specializes on the industrial sector... and robots. It's been some time now that you have announced your decision to turn a new leaf after being soundly beaten by that blue fuzzball the Nth time... since then you've built yourself a small, legitimate company, which coupled with your brilliance, grew into a name worthy of the Mobian Stock Market. Almost everyone in Mobius thinks you've really reformed; but the truth is, you still keep a burning hatred for that blue fuzzball. But these days you have taken to splitting your attention between taking down that hedgehog (of course, covertly), and keeping an eye on the market.
In any case, currently you find yourself in your office, in Robotnik Heavy Industries' HQ in the Mobian capital. Currently in your company's possession:
-1 HQ (has R&D, marketing, the works, and even a secret lair/workshop for yourself)
The secretary called. "Mr. Robotnik, the current market report is ready."
What will you do?
Tavern Quest: Chapter 2
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Since the dawn of time, the peoples of the world have had their legends. Be they the titanic figures who forged the great nations, founded the eternal cities, and codified the very beliefs that millions still hold. Be they the heroes and villains who have shaped the land since with their deeds, slaying armies and ruining cities. Their acts are monumental, their personages monolithic, but it is their stories that truly shape the land. Stories are the lifeblood of a people, they shape their culture, their very way of thinking. And, in every one of these tales, these legends, there is a single shared strand. Everyone must sleep. Everyone must eat. Everyone desires companionship. In all of these legends, these myths, these heroic tales: a single constant. The Tavern.
Adventuring is not for you, and no God has made you his chosen. Evil is, well, risky. Politics is boring and deadly in equal measure. Farming? You'd rather plant a hoe into your own head than into the dirt for the rest of your days. No, you will become legend through the clearest, best path you can imagine. Its time to open a Tavern. The Tavern.
You are Tallius Urist, once a senator of the Protectorate and now a disgraced outlaw, looking to start a new life under a new name. Last time you purchased the dilapidated Crossroads Outpost, near the adventuring hotspot of Origin, the Clockwork Capitol. To acquire manpower and materiel to renovate what you hope will become your Tavern, you traveled to the nearby village of Gearwatch. Negotiating the services and resources of the Elven craftsman Santher, you then moved to scout out the town's own Tavern, in hopes of securing a supplier for food and drink. There you now stand, as the large, bespectacled barman who calls himself Martellus asks you to take a seat and order a drink, and his energetic, frighteningly strong companion Sif darts about, clumsily preparing a flagon.
What's next is up to you, Tallius.
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So... uhh... how would one fail to become a ranger? What central concept would you misunderstand or fail to understand badly enough to be turned down and told that you RACK THE DISCIPRINE?
One of my players in our game has a concept like this in mind for his character, a ranger who was taught the basic but was ultimately told he didn't have what it took to actually become one in the end. And he asked me what that could be. Rangers in the game world are mostly trained by "brotherhoods" of sorts. But since it hasn't really come up, I'm shit-out of ideas and am at a loss as to what I should tell him.
So, any ideas, good /tg/? I like his idea since it gives obvious plot hooks and obvious roleplaying goals for improvement, and I want him to have it, but I need some help. As does he.
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What are normal items that no one expects to be useful, but really are?
I think the jack-of-all-trades is viable, he just needs to MacGyver pretty hard. Lamps, ladder, fishing hooks, pens, magnifying glasses, a wok.
What's good random stuff to have?