The sky was dark that night, the artistic spirit of your people prey to a restlessness. Yet the night invites you to fight against the increasingly immoral titanocracy. You are a member of a small elite force of fey partisans attempting to reclaim a fragment of the world tree stolen by the outsiders. They arrived at the planet a decade ago, bringing untold destruction and suffering. Most of your family was killed by them. You want revenge.
You are:
> Risold. Can do strong water magic. Somewhat liked. > Alhambra. Can do strong fire magic. Very disliked. > Kanako. Can do strong plant magic. Very liked.
You currently have two companions you got at the Fairy Hole. Pick them from the following list. Having two or more fairies with similar powers grant Synergy:
> Nikka. Can do ice magic. > Bordeaux. Can do mind magic. > Flavoran. Can do air magic. > Pistachy. Can do healing magic. > Keka. Can do weak transmutation magic. > Brika, Mina, Lizzy. Can do weak healing magic > Kecyl, Randa, Narn. Can use weak slow magic. > Daryl, Mika, Nidori, Fandor, Kalil, Prika. Can shoot magical spikes.
(First quest. Expect fuckups. More concrete stats/character sheet/data as we go.)
You are an unremarkable mortal. You LURK on imageboards and CONSUME fictional media.
While you've read and watched through many series, the conceit of "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure" has always enthralled you, compensating exposure to ABSURDITY and even BLOODSHED with fantastic powers reflecting one's SOUL. While you are up to date on the original manga (from the beginning to the latest installment, the JOJOLANDS), the anime adaptation, and even spin-off material, there is one story arc cemented in your head as your very FAVORITE. [roll 1d9 for your favorite part, will choose the mode]
You are only vaguely aware of your background as you regain consciousness. You are slumped against a stone wall. It's pretty dark, and there are unfamiliar sounds and lights in the distance. The night air is warm and a bit dusty. You can just about make out you're in some sort of alleyway.
You manage to get to your feet. You start to remember piddling little details like your NAME, AGE, ORIGIN, and...
...Wait.
Your eyes trail a long shadow on the ground up to the distance, where it's cast by a tall silhouette. Someone is approaching you. It's a man with a bird on his shoulder, but it doesn't take the foreknowledge of a BIZARRE loremaster to realize that it's no mere man and no mere bird.
That's <span class="mu-s">DIO</span> himself! And his pet falcon, <span class="mu-s">Pet Shop</span>!
Do you: >Try summoning your ULTIMATE POWERS. You're in a strange locale that's not your bed! This is clearly a lucid dream! >Oh shit! Muster your strength and try to get away! >Yawn and fall back asleep. This is clearly a dream! You're not interesting enough to have actually been swept off to another world. >This doesn't feel like a dream. Your body feels like ice melting into the ground. He's getting closer and you're sweating, bile bubbling up your throat and piss threatening to trickle out of you as the 'gravity' of your situation sets in. >Hold. Running is useless and your legs feel like lead. Wrack your AMPLE knowledge of the source material and LACKING knowledge of social interactions for a good first impression. >Write-in. [can choose 2 of above]
You are William, a student, discount mage, mole/resistance fighter, and not a cripple anymore. Finally moving to fulfill a promise of wiping out a small gang for a way too perceptive cook for future benefits. Getting ready for a fight against normal mooks that should be a quick clean up.
You wake up. This is the cause of no small distress.
In the first place, ships don’t, as a rule, wake up. They don’t have eyes or limbs or skin either. But looking down with your newfound eyes, you have a body that is by all appearances human, warm and soft and pink and squishy but firm underneath, with a great mass of thick navy-blue hair falling down to your chest. You are dressed in a rather tight-fitting white officer’s summer slack shirt and a black skirt open up the sides to your waist, with black leggings underneath and polished black shoes on your feet. Although hard to judge without a reference, your proportions suggest you are quite tall, as tall as anyone that had sailed among your crew.
In the second place, you should be dead. Your last memory - or log entry, at any rate - is from February 3rd 2017, the day of your final decommissioning. Yet, as you listen to the GPS satellites orbiting far overhead, they say that the time is 0742 1st August 2027.
What the hell was going on? Had you been repaired and recommissioned? No, that couldn’t be - even if the USN were in the most extraordinarily dire need it would still have been easier to build a brand-new diesel carrier than try to recommission an old nuc tub like you, assuming you hadn’t been scrapped entirely by now, and at any rate not even Uncle Sam's most ingenious contractors could turn 95,000 tons of steel into something the size of a normal human. Even so, here you are, alive, and you can still feel your hull, somehow impossibly compressed into this new body. All systems were nominal, reactors newly-fuelled, all airframes fresh and in flying condition, armoury, fuel bunkers, and stores all full. In fact, you felt good, better than you can remember feeling since, well, maybe ever. There wasn’t a spot of rust or squeaking hinge or missing fleck of paint anywhere. You’re definitely alive and in full working order, and in a way it should not have been possible for a ship to be.
Was this the afterlife, maybe? Somehow that didn't feel like the right answer. Looking around, you see nothing but blue blue sea, shallow and crystal clear, evidently some tropical lagoon, and though you seem to be standing on top of the water without issue, the sight of white sand and coral barely a fathom deep is a little unnerving. You try listening again to the GPS sats to get a fix on your location, and find your confusion and concern only deepening when you match coordinates to charts: you’re standing in Bikini Atoll. And, listening to your other comms systems, you hear nothing else at all except encrypted satellite traffic. On the ground is radio silence. True enough, Bikini was remote, but the Marshall Islands had tens of thousands of people living not too far away, and nearby Kwajalein had a Navy missile test range. How could there be literally no one here?
A corpse looks into a flickering black glass. It ponders what could have been, had it not wasted its life. The illusion prevails until the glass stops flickering.
Your tired muscles are reinvigorated as you spot the Burg on the horizon. Many horses and mules follow you, but you are the only rider. Looking at their saddles stirs melancholic memories of your companions. At a calm riverside you make camp. You stare at your reflection in the still water. What do you see?
>What is this? "The Mystery Dungeons 2e" is a text-based role-playing game created to expand on the setting created by the spinoff series, Pokémon Mystery Dungeon. This has no story relation to the first quest, and is its own new story. Players still isekai themselves into the world and become Pokémon, going on adventures with their newfound guild mates! SFW ONLY
>I'd like to participate! Currently, we're at full capacity as far as threads on /qst/ are concerned. However, there's always the chance that space for another player may grow in the future, or that you simply wish to play outside of /qst/ and the quests hosted here. There are other ways to participate, about which you can learn and do here: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org
>Okay, now what? After you've read up and familiarized yourself with the rules and setting, be sure to hop into the Element: https://matrix.to/#/#the-mystery-dungeons-2nd-edition:matrix.org. Everything that doesn't involve Main Quests occurs here and is helpful for coordination.
Unless you have surprise assignments to suppress escaped monsters that are researched for their exotic physiology, scour the wilds in search of illegal tunnels into the stormdrains underneath the rainy city of Helsinki where thousands of <span class="mu-i">excess humans</span> gather to survive, or test esoteric technologies that are powered by your own biological processes created at the behest of the director of the Stormwatch, you have a very simple day ahead of you.
As Winter comes, so does the march of Helsinki’s Stormwatch against the underground city of squatters that lurk underneath the pristine, clean, and self-sufficient city. And while the nation of Helsinki is well equipped to commit a total pogrom with advanced weaponry, regulations on gas emissions by the global environmental regulating body, Mother Nature’s Providence, enforce that the city be taken by boots on the ground with bladed weapons in hand made from entirely recyclable materials.
And you have been assured this is the biggest opportunity you have to earn an L3 position. With L3 comes the rights that those in the past used to enjoy; the right to start a family, mainly. You are, haha, <span class="mu-i">incredibly</span> lonely. You see things, sometimes. A child of yours, yet to be.
To make this attack possible, a great understanding of the city’s current layout, population, and demographics have to be taken. Rather than rely on vision from easily sabotaged cameras, this strange thing called “WiFi” can be used to detect people through walls with comparable quality to thermal imaging. This can be used to scan the current physical layout of the Undercity, and establish its current capacity of fighting-age adults and any trained - or even <span class="mu-i">consciously cooperative</span> - aberrations.
The year is 2021, and Civil War rages across America. Across major cities, communists rise under the banner of the Proletariat Revolution. In the Northwest, a fascist warlord state has emerged to provide order and security. The East Coast is consumed by fighting between military remnants, warlords, and U.N. Peacekeepers. Texas has formed its own republic, and the West Coast has turned into a Chinese puppet managed by corporate fiefdoms. The world's going up in flames, and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring...
You are the Messenger (former name: Walter White) and you lead the Sun Belt Crusaders. Your group is best described as a radical Catholic cult claiming the papal throne backed by meth, violence, and cunning. Having fled your native Southern California, you have established a presence in the Arizonan village of Mobile southwest of Phoenix.
Your faction has had some success since settling down. You've secured a patron in the nearby town of Maricopa, which provides significant support in exchange for your services. You also enjoy a close relation to Maricopa's autonomous Reservation after helping a local figure execute a coup and establish a new government. Militarily, your faction has won a number of small skirmishes, has taken over (at Maricopa's behest) a mountain base previously used for raids in addition to minor mercenary work in Phoenix, trading blood for wealth.
The Crusaders are currently in a period of growth. Threats such as the prison-warden turned raider seem to have set their sights elsewhere, and the cult is building up its numbers and infrastructure. It's a precarious situation, as each boon has its respective cost. The funds fueling the infrastructure expansion came from a pyrrhic victory that serves as a reminder of your faction's insignificance to Phoenix. The recruitment of vagrant junkies combined with the existing influx of Natives to the Faith is stretching housing and other resources thin, though an upcoming raid and diplomatic effort out west has the potential to change everything...
Beyond your small territory of Mobile lie the many dangers of the Badlands. These range from yet more convicts turned raiders, the Cartel, hostile government agents (perhaps even in your own faction), and a myriad other groups you're slowly discovering. Looming over all is the former capitol of Phoenix, consumed with a massive war raging between the revolutionary Phoenix Occupied Zone and a loose coalition opposing it. If either faction takes control of the city, it will become the regional hegemon and likely seize the Badlands. All the while an outside faction such as Chinese-controlled California or Mexican warlords could start making moves in the area any time.
Your short-term goal is to continue surviving and expanding. Your longer term goal is to somehow secure Phoenix and the Badlands. Your ultimate goal is to bring the Glory of Christ to the entire country no matter the cost in blood, meth, or tears...
On a small island island chaos reins as many bronze age city states fight over supremacy. Can you bring peace to the land with cunning, plotting, and risk-taking? Can vanquish your enemies, solve crises, and unite the people?
Players will control the same character, and actions will decided with consensus, the first action to get seconded will be carried.
The lore details will expanded when relevant, but this setting does not have magic. Also, on this island, there are six groups of people.
To get started you need to roll 9d6, to determine the starting position.
2nd roll determines your culture (which will further which kingdom you start): >1. Eicellander >2. Medulander >3. Oderinish >4. Lethilean >5. Avatheman >6. Castrian
Next rolls determine the stats >3rd roll is charisma (CHA), primarily determined to persuade people >4th roll is warcraft (WAR), related to war events >5th roll is statecraft (STA), competency in dealing with state task >6th roll is cunning (CUN), related to intrigue events >7th roll is combat (COM), personal fighting skill >8th roll is bravery (BRA), how easily you are frightened >9th roll is restraint (RES), how much self-control you have
They calculated by 3+d6+role mod, which means the range is 1-12
