Space. The Final Frontier, or so some sailors call it. Beyond the outermost lip of the Earth, there is a black emptiness. The Prime Material Plane is, they say, suspended in an endless void. To those with the eyes to see it, through, and the means to survive it, there is so much more. In the skies above, there are Holy Lun and Holy Sol: the spheroid satellite-worlds of the Eladrin, or High Elves, and their divine creators. Beyond even these is the firmament—a great sphere, speckled with rotating stars. Beyond the firmament, above and below it, are the Divine Realms—the Heavens above and the Hellish Realms below.

And to some, a select few, even THAT frontier is not final.

Your name is Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann, half-human child of the Sylvan Elves of Dappulyet, Apprentice to the Archmage of Hawksong, and self-proclaimed Seeker of the Esoteric… And you are currently a little out of your depth.

You are presently suspended in just such a ‘place beyond’: in the aether-flooded ‘space-between-spaces’ which exists just outside of the firmament, yet not amongst the hosts of Heaven or of Hell. Rather, you float amongst the Elemental planes: realms of purest Fire, Air, Water, and Earth, which touch upon each-other across dimensions beyond the three which define your usual perceptual reality. An earlier brush with these same planes (and no small amount of study and practice, it must be said) ahs gifted you the ability to survive here…

>0/5 MP

…But not to navigate this strange space freely, nor to escape it now that you are here, and drained of all magic. The young woman floating before you in this strange space brought you here, clad in black, has the means to take you both back from whence you came. Her name is Izirina Henzler (though she was born with another), and she is both your master’s adoptive daughter and the woman you love. Or, well, one of two.

…Or should you now say ‘three’?

[ENTERING THE FIFTH KALPA]
[...]
[]
ALLBIOS(C)0000 CHAOS APPARATUS
[STARTUP]
[]
0Parameters=
1CmdLine=SEP_Client_Cognitive_Hardware_ID_Fix.bat
[]
REROUTE COMPLETE [...] CHAOS INITIATED [] KALPA ACTIVE
[WE BEGIN TO THINK AND BREATH LIFE]

~~~

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Levelman
Questcord: https://discord.gg/gGnp9rP3Uy
Wiki: https://chaosquest.miraheze.org/wiki/Main_Page

With the Supreme Kai of Time Chronoa dethroned, the Demon God Dumplin beaten, and Karn's whole family now able to live in his timeline, things have been looking up for the Saiyan General. But all good things can't last forever. And when conflicts arise between deities, mortals are inevitably caught in the crossfire. Does Karn, the Berserker God possess the strength to protect his family, people, world and reality from their fickle nature? Or are the beings above mortal ken also beyond mortal reproach? This outcome may be up to you.

You the players control Karn, wielder of the mighty Berserker Soul. Granting him the power to fight against gods and other divine beings, to resist their influence and strengths. From his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733, only a few years into his time as a member of the PTO, he has now become the strongest Saiyan of his time. With the power of the Berserker God, combined with That Which Should Not Be and having devoured a soul born of the Abyss itself, his strength is now unlike anything before seen in his reality. But will this newfound strength be enough to overcome the threats headed his way? Only time will tell, your choices can spell the difference between success and failure.

Character sheets and other info:
https://controlc.com/46ec566d
https://pastebin.com/u/GrandDragonQM
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Saiyan+Conqueror+Quest
Help fund quest art commissions and get exclusive side stories as well as artwork here: https://www.patreon.com/GrandDragonQM

Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted):
>30 minute vote times
>Pick ONLY ONE option when voting
>Dice rolls are all best of first three correctly-rolled dice
>One dice roll per person per post unless three players have not yet rolled, and ten minutes has passed since your previous roll
>Crits are 100 on a d100(a 99 or paired rolls may net you an extra bonus)
>Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third
>Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored
>If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny
>Have fun

SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes as soon as possible.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EAhFZQWCr8

THE FICKLE GODS

<span class="mu-i">Sapphire syrup sloshed inside a tall metal pod that hummed in a low pitch. Caressed by the thick liquid, a fetus no more than twenty weeks curled up, held in place by myriads of wires. The Emperor of Mankind and Malcador examined the machine in the deep cellar beneath the Imperial Palace, no one else, not even his trusted custodians.[i/]

“The primarch project is already underway, we have no use for it. You can use it however you wish.” The Emperor said.[i/]

Malcador softly hummed, his robe hid whatever expression he had. “There are many use for it, a buffer perhaps.” He continued hearing The Emperor’s silence. “The primarchs will be brothers and brothers will naturally compete. They will seek your approval as all sons do. She will be a buffer, someone to be impressed and to distract the primarchs of their competitiveness. Someone who appreciates what they do. If she is proven ineffective, then a political tool of convenience.”[i/]

“The primarchs are not children and will be above such emotions. It is inefficient to create this just so my sons can feel appreciated. The primarchs are tools of war.” The Emperor said without a hint of emotion.[i/]

Malcador nodded. “But still human. They will not be an emotionless tool that you want them to be.”[i/]

The Emperor paused for a brief moment, then stared at the pod. The fetus twitched its leg.[i/]

“Begin the procedure. Create her as you see fit.”[i/]</span>

In the year 1987, crime and corruption in America is an epidemic. Drugs and guns flow into the country from everywhere in the world, and the gateway to it all is the coastal paradise, Heat City. This is a place of shining high-rises and shadowed alleys, sunsets and smog, neon and blood, ruled by ambition and greed and power. Here in Heat City, you can get whatever you want -- if you can pay the price.

Welcome back.

Rules are simple: Votes are tallied every hour, with whatever course of action being the most popular being the course of action taken. Write ins are encouraged and non-mutually exclusive votes will be combined if possible.

When a roll is called for, roll however many D100 are specified. 5- is a 'crit fail' and generally means something bad is about to happen. 95+ is a 'crit success' and generally means something good just happened. a 'crit success' trumps a crit fail. User input on both will be taken into consideration.

Inventory, pokemon stats and other links: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15i2N08IpWqitoTJujsUMishe4PLbao1lqT-bCAmvPcE/edit

Discord: https://discord.gg/PErMtupK

For a short summary for the new and to recap:

You are Alex. A newly minted trainer and camping enthusiast just starting out on your journey at the age of seventeen after your father lost his job in order to help pay the bills. On the road, you met Fie, the Fire Gym Leader, Gareth a novice Aura Guardian on pilgrimage and Holly, a runaway heiress using a pseudonym. You've also made enemies of Team Green a group of violent, radical activists looking to abolish pokemon training.

Recently, Fie returned to her gym for the time being.

Last thread, you saved an adult toy store from being robbed by Team Green, left Saltcoast City for Redmont Town, caught a Mudkip and made camp for the night.

The Eternal Empire has stood for 14 millennia and has endured hundreds of wars, calamities, and rulers of every type. In the twilight of your reign, you’ve demanded to know the truth behind your Head Advisor’s unnatural longevity, and now watch with bated breath.

Even surrounded by the Royal Guard, you feel a deep sense of unease.

>Previous Threads
>https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Simple%20Space%20Empire

Walking around this city hasn't been useful in a long time, but you still feel compelled to show up in person- on time but on your own terms. On your way to your new job, you pass by perfect trees and equally immaculate arrangements of flowers. The sidewalk and pavement are both flawless. Your footsteps are the only ones to ring out as you walk block after block past blank walls and gigantic buildings with no windows or doors. The only way to note where you're going and how quickly by eye alone are the regular street signs posted out of inertia, and in case there's a celebration that causes people to leave their virtual paradise. There's no one else on the streets, which, given this used to be New York City, is depressing. Even if it was dirty, even if it was dim, it was still alive.

A sickening sensation fills your stomach as you realize too late that you didn't check if the Summoning Management Group's Northeast Branch actually keeps a physical door these days. Luckily, you see the actual entrance and the steps up two blocks down, and hurry along to get there. Your mother would tell you to check for muggers, but she isn't here, and neither are they. As picturesque as this city might look from the outside, you're happy to find somewhere people actually choose to be, even if only for a paycheck. Marble steps invite you up to a gold-gilded arch. The revolving door spins silently as you push your way in, pulling your suitcase closer to make sure it doesn't hit anything.

The modern interior design, generic as it is, is actually sort of an improvement over the wacky architecture some tryhards get up to these days. Sadly, the concierge is unattended, so you look around to see if there's anything besides the stairs to the next floor up. Not much, though there is a couch you can sit down on and a side table for you to manage your suitcase in. It's all blasé and beige here, solid colors and one lonesome painting hung over the desk. One of the walls has a window to an exterior that doesn't exist in that direction, but you take a deep breath. That was probably put in by a middle manager who thought it 'looked nice'.

At least you're in a good line of work. The salary they posted for your position was frankly astronomical, though you've been warned that you have to use some of it to do your job. Sitting down on the couch, you place your suitcase on the side table in order to shuffle through the contents. The paper copies of your employment are here, signed and sealed. These are redundant twice over, more of a security blanket than anything else, really: You've already passed the interview. You look up to see if anyone is coming up or down the stairs before rifling through your documents again.
---
(1/2)

ITQ you will buy and sell goods, find a place to live, basic Jobs, and things to do to live through a zombie apocalypse. Zombies are slow. Plenty of things can maim or kill you. Zombie bites can be treated, but there are side effects, or you may screw it up and die. So let's avoid that, ok?
You stand in line among several other people, anonymous faces, you didn't count them. You've not seen them before. Some in shoes, some barefoot, one with a blood stained spear, and all of you hot and dirty from the June heat. You're on the outskirts of Houston in the shell of what was an old big box store, and the proprietor has a fan blowing across the line of you, and he has been good enough to put up a pop-up tent ourside the entrance to shield everyone from the sunlight, but it must be 94 degrees with all of you crowded together and waiting. On either side of the Line, are cages full of dead eyed ghouls, locked in for now, but watching you.
The Merchant calls out Next and you step up with your goods. You walk up to a bullet proof Plexiglass window with a pass through container, and big sign over the glass stating:
>Jews created the outbreak on borrowed money, No Credit
You are yourself, just yourself. Your actions are your own choice, but the outcome is determined by post ID roll.
Roll for your saleable goods layout by final digit.
Subsequent rerolls to determine simple value, 2nd to last digit = quantity, final digit of simple pass fail 1-5 poor, 6-0 good
1-backpack of junk, can be sorted for valuables
2-live wild animal, must be examined to determine value
3-Clothing, must be checked for damage
4-Food, may be packaged or raw
5-Contraban: cigarettes, alchohol, pornography, drugs
6-Weapons: may be functional, broken parts
7-Ammunition: may be boxed or loose, good or bad
8-Medicine: may be prescription or over the counter
9-Chemicals: wet or dry, labled packaged or not
0-information: he may or may not care
Doubles= special item
poor items are worth 1/2 head, good items are worth 1 head
Your ID characters, in order, determine the quality of your starting gear
>Head
>Backpack
>Chest
>Arms
>Pants
>Belt
>Shoes
>Weapon
Letter=Nothing
Number=common variety, used condition
Symbol=Superior variety and New Condition

Hi folks. Maybe you remember me from "Left Beyond". Maybe not. It's been five years.

The world has changed a lot since then -- we got a global pandemic, the rise of generative AI and its use as a logistics and propaganda tool, drone warfare. Any similarities between this and that are, I assure you, intentional.

This is sort of a "testrun" for a more detailed quest I've been working on. This time around this is just for fun and I won't try to make predictions about the state of the world in the near future.

I will be using some material (mainly the map) from the old game Burntime, one of the predecessors to Fallout.

Expect this particular sort of wasteland to be a lot less forgiving than Fallout's though...

OK, enough with the foreword.