You are a Wizard working for the MAFIA What are the wizards powers name motive etc I will throw scenarios at Yall so be on your toes if the wizard dies than this thread is over
You, <span class="mu-s">the First Princess of the Flower Kingdom</span>, have been unceremoniously stripped of all your jewels and finery before being dumped buck naked into the <span class="mu-s">Hollow Labyrinth</span>. You expected many things when the <span class="mu-s">Boar Empire</span> invaded: losing your head, being forcibly wed to the son of their emperor, or even getting passed around between their lowborn soldiers like a cheap prostitute in the worst case. Being forced into a naked dive of the Hollow Labyrinth - the lucrative yet dangerous dungeon that sits beneath <span class="mu-s">Rose City</span> - to earn your "freedom" was not on the list.
The scrying orb recording the whole affair for the sick and twisted entertainment of <span class="mu-s">Emperor Buta</span> and his five demon generals was to be expected. The Boar Empire has a habit of tormenting the royals of conquered nations. Unfortunately for him, that pig Buta mistook you for an ordinary woman, the weak and vulnerable sort who would shrink up when her gowns were torn away as if hiding her shame.
There is nothing shameful about your body.
Your skin is like flawless white marble, your lips like plump red rose petals. Your eyes sapphires, your hair spun gold that falls in perfect curls, your features chiseled by the artistic hands of your personal trainer over the course of twenty five years into an immaculate monument to tomboyish athleticism. You worked <span class="mu-i">hard</span> to shape your mind and body into a treasure greater than any of the silks or jewels those brutes stripped from you, and if they thought you would shrink away <span class="mu-i">humiliated</span> by putting the fruits of your labor on display, they are fools.
No, what is humiliating is the fact that these barbarians managed to overwhelm the elite forces of the <span class="mu-s">Flower Knights</span> with nothing but human wave tactics. Not what they've done with the power that they hold over you now, but the fact that they have any power over you at all fills you with a deep sense of disgust.
"Once I've conquered this dungeon, I am going to kill you," you tell the scrying sensor and whoever is behind it. It is not a growl of anger, simply a statement of fact.
There is no exit from the Hollow Labyrinth, not until you defeat one of its Floor Bosses. Even then, you suspect that pig Buta sealed you in with one of the tools that locks dimensional space until the last bost has been slain. No doubt he wants to display your broken and mangled corpse to your people, to demoralize them even further.
Well, you will not give him the satisfaction.
<span class="mu-s">Many paths are open to you now...</span> >A set of grand, red double doors requires much force to push open. >A narrow passage winds off into the darkness >A broken portcullis allows access to a gently moving waterway >A once hidden door has fallen open, revealing a secret hallway. >A light above is a hole in the roof. You can climb to it
>First things first, I did actually come back after the funeral and I uh...I dunno. Did I lose the plot? I kept waiting and my autism locked me into that thread hoping someone would respond. So before I type out a huge post I wanna make sure, is anyone even interested in Alola Quest anymore?
The world is ash. The sky never clears. And it is all your fault.
Once, you stood at the pinnacle of mortal ambition. As an archmage of the Red Hand, you commanded armies of zealots, twisted the forces of the world to your will, and cracked open the forbidden seals of the lower realms. Together, your cult summoned the Demon Lord—a living apocalypse who devoured the lifeblood of the world. Magic itself guttered and died in his maw, the oceans boiled, and the continents withered. When his hunger was sated, nothing remained but ruins, corpses, and the scattered remnants of his horde.
And yet... you endure.
You are immortal, though no longer mighty. Every spell has fled from your veins. The rituals of power, the storms of fire, the curses that once bent kings to your will—all gone. What remains are the secrets: hidden truths gathered over lifetimes of study, whispers of older catastrophes and how ancient races clawed their way back to power. The world has ended before, and it will rise again. But only if you seize the knowledge to restart the current of magic... no matter the cost.
The date is April 1st, 1669. The sky is afflicted by the rising presence of the CRANITORIUM, ushering in the FOOL MOON and the dominion of MONSTERS. This same skull shaped silhouetted bound to the earth with chains appears every 101 years, an entirely arbitrary number.
This horrible omen heralds the rebirth of LADY JOHANNA SUGGSALOT, an undying wretch driven by the ongoing suffering of man. With her legion of creeps, ghouls and ghosts, she seeks to drive a dagger of fear and misery into the very soul of humanity.
But that bitch is shit outta luck, because it’s YOUR time. You are SPHINCTER SMELLMONT, professional monster slayer and distant cousin to CLAN ARSENE (Thrice removed). You uh… don’t prefer your given name. So you’ve chosen a more fitting name for the a slayer of occult beasties. Something hard. Something TOUGH. What is your name?
This is meant to be a discussion / feedback thread.
About the future of the quest. A couple problems have appeared as I ran it and checked the notes. First, over the past 3 months that I've tried my hand at various oneshots, I have mostly forgotten the plot. The notes are still there, and I remember the general direction, but the details of the scenes I planned are lost to time. I can reinvent them as I go (probably), so this is not a big problem for me, but maybe for you, my players, it will be a greater one. Lesson learned, do not take long breaks between threads without extensive note-taking.
The main problem is the progression and system of Monster Reincarnation. I've started it as a LitRPG type thing, with all the system notifications about health lost, skill usage, levelling up, formal quests - basically the entire videogame turned quest package. The difficulty about this is that it takes up a lot time to balance it against itself, remember all the stats and mechanics I invented, and integrate all the new mechanics I come up with (I did that over the course of the quest) for essentially no gain. Like I've said a couple times in the past, it is mostly fluff for the "number go up" feel with <span class="mu-i">some</span> but not a lot of effect on the plot and battles. Like "you have a freezing spell, so it affects fire monsters more" or "it takes few hits to kill a 300HP monster with 80 damage skills" type stuff without sure numbers behind it.
Over time I lost interest in this type of system. It's a lot of work to write down and update the stats and skills, think of how strong the later monsters will be and which skills it makes sense to give them, invent stats and skills befitting an NPC. Basically a lot of technical note-taking that you'd expect from a videogame database, not a questmaster.
I thought about retconning it completely, so the world doesn't work on skills and videogame mechanics anymore, but they're deeply embedded in the worldbuilding and the previous plot, so that would be a very different type of story. Also, most of the previous events wouldn't make sense without this system, so that would break the plot a lot.
Starting the quest anew, without it? I'm not sure you, my players, would be interested in that type of quest, or really even ready to go at the same premise for the third fucking time holy shit (fourth if you count the og quest by another QM). Also I didn't only work on mechanics, but also the lore of the kingdoms and gods, characters and history, so it'd suck to lose all of that and start fresh. (1/2)
Your name is <span class="mu-s">Vincent Cruz.</span> You work at a small accounting firm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Texas. By accounts, you are a complete and total nobody.
You've spent the last five years of your life doing the same monotonous routine day in and day out.
Wake up. Catch a bus. Suffer the indignity of underfunded public transportation for an hour. Arrive at work. Get a cup of coffee. Go to your cubical. Work on financial and tax paperwork for eight hours. Go home. Watch TV. Get a restless six hours of sleep.
30 GOTO 10.
That's the way it's been up to this point. The job pays well enough and the other options weren't much better.
Today begins as much as any other day. You step off the rolling hunk of steel which you could call a bus and into the looming shadow of your workplace, a grey steel and glass monolith that holds nothing but human misery inside. Just how you like it. Ha.
Your body and mind prepare to go on autopilot to get through your routine. Your legs carry you forward automatically and your face is set into the daily mask of impassivity.
You're stopped by the receptionist before you can even step foot into your office.
"Mr. Cruz." The chipper receptionist offers her usual plastic smile. "Mr. Cantwell would like to speak to you." Oh. <span class="mu-i">Great.</span> Your manager wants to talk to you? You can already imagine the dragged out conversation he's going to put you through.
You slump your shoulders. "Okay. Thank you." Your body swerves down the hallway opposite of where your office is. It doesn't take long to find yourself in front of his office door. Lucky bastard actually gets an office all to himself. You knock on the door. No answer. You check the doorknob and it's...<span class="mu-b">unlocked?</span> Huh. You open the door to reveal a room completely shrouded in darkness. You can't see a damn thing in here.
You have half the mind to leave right now... but you might as well see this little jape all the way through. Why not? You step inside and the last thing you remember is <span class="mu-r">two metal prongs being jabbed into your back</span> and the <span class="mu-r">accompanying surge of electricity flooding through your entire body.</span>
You wake up after God knows how long. You can't see anything and, as you try to get up, you realize your arms and legs are tied to something. There's a few whispers and footsteps then the bag gets removed from your head. It's still too dark to make out much of your surroundings, but you can make out what's immediately in front of you.
There's a man sitting on the other side of the stainless steel table that you're forcefully sat at. He's an older gentleman wearing a simple white labcoat with a turtleneck sweater underneath, late 50s if you had to guess. He adjusts the desk lamp (the only source of light in this room) to get a better look at you.
"I apologize for the, erm, troublesome circumstances that surround our little introduction." He lets out a forced chuckle. "<span class="mu-b">To keep it brief, you've been promoted!</span>"
You sit alone at a large desk in a dark room. You were escorted in here roughly fifteen minutes ago so that you could have your interview with The Hunters Bureau. The de facto group for dealing with the supernatural. And while things have surely changed since the Bureau's inception- around a thousand years ago now- it still holds onto its core belief that anyone could be a Hunter… yes, anyone. Before you got shoved into this box you were sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by all types of characters: ex cops, ex cons, prostitutes, androids, chrome heads, dope heads, children and even some respectable looking citizens in there too.
A sound suddenly fills the room, the sound of a handleless door sliding open, followed by a faint square-shaped beam of orange light. Though both of these stimulants are kicked out of the room as an old man steps into the room- the door sliding back closed. The stench of smoke fills your nostrils before your eyes can adjust to actually see the man's face. A bald head, grey moustache and Dreamland Co: Asteroid Blue mega-cigarette are the only details you can make out on him. That and his bulky, torn jacket, adorned in damaged medals and sewn patchwork squares. He lowers himself into a chair on the opposite side of the table, placing a chunky tablet on the table. He plucks the mega-cigarette out of his mouth and presses the side of the tablet- the harsh blue light that erupts from it almost makes your eyes water. And then the harsh white ceiling light he turns on with a tap on the screen actually makes your eyes water. With a few grumbles, screen taps and hits of the mega-cigarette he finally meets your gaze.
“I'm sure you know why you're here so I'm gonna skip parts of this script they got for me-” He holds up the tablet with a flimsy grip before putting it back down- from the brief glimpse you got of all the text on the screen you couldn't be more grateful. “Gimme your name. First and last.”
>[SHORT & SLIGHTLY STANDOFFISH] “<span class="mu-i">Write in</span>.” | This man is willingly smoking Asteroid Blues, he's clearly just like you. Antisocial.
>[REHEARSED & PROPER] “My name <span class="mu-i">Write in</span>.” You fix your posture and reach out for a handshake. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” | This man is willingly smoking Asteroid Blues. Some order in the chaos (his life) would be good for him.
>[HAPPY… LIKE WAY TOO HAPPY] You reach out with a strong smile and, forcefully, shake his hand “My name is <span class="mu-i">Write in</span>! Nice to meet ya!” | This man is willingly smoking Asteroid Blues. He desperately needs a friend.
>[REJECT SOCIAL CONVENTIONS] Stare and say nothing. | This man is willingly smoking Asteroid Blues, clearly he doesn't want to do his job.
>[WRITE IN] In the words of a great philosopher: “Ahhh go crazy.”
Disclaimer : One shot. Let's try to be fast-paced and see how it goes.
You are located in the middle of France. Which Bee do you pick? >European Dark Bee >Italian Honey Bee >Buckfast Bee >Himalayan Giant-Cliff Honey Bee >Africanized Bee >Hornet Which Hive? >Dadan >Langstroth >Warre >Dead Tree Trunk >Kenyan Hive >Willow-Weaved
You are a Cainite. A bloodsucking monster, with a Beast lurking in the shadow of your mind. You are one of the many hands grappling the Sword of Caine. You were not inducted into the Sect randomly - you are no shovelhead. No, your sire chose you, because of your qualities and what you could bring to the Sabbat. Granted the Creation Rites and welcomed into the Sabbat. Your sire's faction within the Sabbat, the Order of Saint Blaise, focuses on temporal power and maintaining the Silence of the Blood. Your colleagues beyond the Order scoff at you, thinking you're playing by the hated Camarilla's rules. But who supplies the crusades, coordinates the cleanup of bodies, watches the Camarilla, and makes sure the night to night goes smoothly?
That's where you come in.
You were chosen for a reason. What was it? (Each choice gives that template's Primary Attribute category, alongside a merit)
>Stern Resolve. You went through the Iraq War and the prolonged hostilities in Afghanistan. You know asymmetrical warfare - you've been targeted by it and coordinated against it. Under fire, you never lost your keen mind, or became diminished from the horrors you saw. (Primary Attribute: Mental, Gain “Iron Will Resistance” merit)
>Manipulation. You know how to control people, like a board room maestro or a cult leader. Reading people comes easy to you. Maybe you were popular in school. Maybe you saw people as chess pieces. Regardless, you are adept at your craft. (Primary: Social, Gain “Magnetic”)
>Underworld Veteran. You are familiar with the illegal world and how to navigate it. Mostly with violence, or the threat of it. You have contacts and know how to rub shoulders with gangs and black marketeers. (Primary: Physical, Gain “Underworld Network”)
>Survivalist. Against all odds, where others fell, you rose. Using your wits and instinct, you survived on your own in the wilderness for days or weeks at a time. (Primary: Physical, Gain “Survival Instincts”)
>Revenant. You were born from one of the many families the Sabbat have created over the centuries. Not all Revenants are chosen for the Embrace. Although limited, your prodigious skill and application of Disciplines put you above the other candidates. (Primary: Social, +1 dot to Disciplines)
>Keyboard Wizard. Your rather milquetoast upbringing brought you stability. And that became the bedrock of your interest in computers, software, and coding. You've cracked into restricted sites, and fluent with “keeping abreast of mortal trends” as your sire puts it. You are their liaison to the 20th century. (Primary: Mental, Gain “Gizmo” merit)
