Welcome to /qtg/, a place to talk about quests.

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>>6308657

>What is a quest?
An interactive story in which a Quest Master (QM) writes and provides the readers with options on how to proceed — similar to a choose-your-own-adventure book or an old text adventure.

Questionably Useful links:
>QTG discord: https://discord.gg/dZavHuK
>Skirmish discord: https://discord.com/invite/DZCVvVU
>Evo Game discord: https://discord.gg/xGZAX9tAvx
>Old pastebin containing advice for QMs:
https://pastebin.com/Z78p8gXf
Badly in need of renovation.

>Archiving guide:
Go to http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/requestqstinterface.html
Fill out the request form to archive a thread.
Threads are also automatically archived by other websites, such as archived.moe.

>Formatting guide:
Only the thread's OP can format. Note that should the OP change ID, they will lose this ability as well.
Remove the spaces between the [] brackets and the letters:
Bold: <span class="mu-s">text</span>
Italics: <span class="mu-i">text</span>
Red: [ red ] <span class="mu-r">text</span> [ /red ]
Blue: [ blue ] <span class="mu-g">text</span> [ /blue ]
Green: [ green] <span class="mu-b">text</span> [ /green ]

>Formatting guide for everyone:
Dice (type this in “options”): dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice] (optionally you can add modifiers: dice + [no. of dice]d[no. of sides on the dice]+[modifier]; for a negative modifier type: +-[modifier]

Examples: dice+1d100 = a 1d100 roll, dice+1d100+10 = a 1d100 roll with a +10 modifier.

Spoiler: spoiler or by pressing alt+s in-thread (doesn't work in OP)

>QM Question:
How in-depth do you plan? Of course no plan survives first contact with the enemy, but how many plot beats do you try to have? Do you have an ending in mind?

>Player Question:
How do you feel when a quests ends? Be it naturally or unnaturally (flaked/cancelled). Have you ever been compelled to continue a dead quest? Did you? If not, why?

>General Question:
How many quests have you seen finish properly? Do you wish more QMs showed restraint and did more self-contained stories, or do you prefer quests that just keep going so you don't have to stop reading them?

>Lurker Question:
There is no question, vote.

>Miscellaneous Question:
Hypothetically, if there was a /qst/ board secret Santa like some of the other boards have, would you participate?

Violence. Repugnant, alluring, superfluous, indispensable….

You remember primary school: running past metal doors and out into the recess playground, the teachers would always say "don't play rough." But inevitably someone would cross the line, and pushes and kicks and punches would be thrown over a crude joke or a prank, or for any one of a million stupid reasons.

You were never one of the offenders. But you do remember a close friends being a frequent troublemaker and an almost semi-permanent fixture inside the principal's office; on returning he would parody the principal's lecture in a faux serious voice—”propriety this, behavior that,” and other such things that kids liked to make fun of.

But at the end of whatever day he'd decided to make trouble, you would always spot him sitting on a chair inside a bereft classroom, looking downcast. Then you'd see his mother and the homeroom teacher deep in conversation, walking down the hallway and entering the room, closing the door behind them.

The following day he'd always return muted and solemn, and no roughhousing would occur for several days. You'd learn many years later that at dinner, when his father would ask "How was everyone's day," his mother would report on her son's mischief. Sometimes his father would wait until after dinner to bring out his belt. Other times, right there and then, he would administer his displeasure.

It befuddled you. Education at the point of the sword—a paradox if ever you saw one. But it wasn't something you ever personally experienced growing up, getting "disciplined" in that manner.

Your father…

>wasn’t around much
>wasn't around at all
>wasn’t prone to violence

Your name is Vincent Cruz. You work in a shady government-backed facility in the middle of the New Mexico desert. By all accounts, you are a complete and total nobody to the Powers That Be.

You've managed to survive the last 7 days at your job. Your job, of course, involves studying and researching dangerous anomalous entities in order to make money for the Abnormality Regulation Coalition (also known as ARC).

In fact, you survived long enough to get promoted from Level 0 to Level 1. You're no longer on the bottom of the totem pole but you're still so, so far away from the top. Five more ranks to go and who's to say you'll survive long enough to reach the top?

If you're going to die here, at least you're going to die at the top. You've climbed dozens upon dozens of corporate ladders, what's one more, after all? It's the only life you've known so you might as well get comfortable with it.

As for a recap of some notable things that happened recently?

You accidently stumbled across Liz getting herself involved in office politics. While you don't care about getting yourself entangled in them, you decided to keep an eye on Liz to make sure she won't do something she'll regret.

You also learnt that one of your coworkers, Ashton, is an aberrant cannibalistic human called a 'Harvester'. For a while you thought her unconditional kindness to you was a mask for something but no, apparently she really see you as a friend. Instead of a meal, thankfully.

A dream you had last night still lingers in the back of your mind. It was the only decision you could've made, it was the only right decision, you had to leave that house.

One of your anomalies, IN LIMBO, has finally kicked the bucket. It decided that the best thing to do would be to move on. All that's left of it now is an ARTIFACT, a remnant of its anomalous power. Rest in peace, Rolle.

And lastly, an old and presumably anomalous phone you bought a while ago has been ringing non-stop during your shift. You're currently trying to negotiate a deal with a mysterious man who's offering you something that 'doesn't cost you money', whatever that means.

Your life is a surreal mess but what can you do about it? The only path you can see for yourself is doing your job to the best of your ability. You're a <span class="mu-s">wageslave</span>, born and raised to torture yourself by doing obtuse and obscene tasks all so a line goes up.

For the line must always go up.

ARCHIVE: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Low%20Rung
VINCENT SHEET/INVENTORY: https://rentry.co/VINCENTSHEET
ALLIES: https://rentry.co/COWORKERLIST
ANOMALY NOTES: https://rentry.co/RESEARCHNOTES

Welcome back! Don't worry, you didn't miss a thread, I just completely failed to label the prior one correctly. That aside, last time: Mark worked his assignment at Wayne Manor and set off a domino chain that eventually led to the raid of Scarecrow's most recent Fear Toxin Laboratory, funded by Kal Quincy Late.
====
Previous Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest
====

"I was just checking in." You say, trying to stay casual. "He was one of the first calls I ever took and I promised to look out for him."

"You promised?" Caesar asks, he pauses for a moment before following up. "Did you promise my dad?"

"I did." You reply quietly, like your words could physically break the stillness in the air. "But uh... there is something worth celebrating still. We nabbed Scarecrow today."

"Woah." Caesar marvels.

"Did Batman help?" Isabelle chirps as she gnaws on a plain tortilla.

"Nope, GCPD did it ourselves... with SOME help."

"Who helped?" Caesar asks, he and his sister locked in on your story.

"The Quick Response Team, they're like SWAT basically. But uh... you know how it is. Can't really tell you anymore until the case moves along but, I feel good about it."

"Maybe we'll be out of here in time for me to go back to school." Caesar muses.

"Oh?" His mother laughs gently. "NOW you want to go to school?"

"Yeah..." Caesar grumbles, his eyes fixed on his plate as he shifts food around. "I gotta be like... responsible."

"Oh, mi dulce hijo." She coos.

"Mamá, para." He groans as his face goes a bit red.

"It's good you wanna go back to school, man." You say with a smile. "You interested in college at all?"

"If we could afford it." He shrugs. "Maybe."

"Hijo, that's an issue for me to worry about. Not you."

"There's options for that too." You bring up. "Scholarships, grants, and stuff."

Caesar shrugs again.

"Though I guess it depends on what you wanna do when you're older."

"I saw Caesar looking up stuff about the police." Isabelle happily blabs much to Caesar's chagrin.

"Izzy..." He groans. "It ain't like that, I dunno what I want to do. I just wanna help you out with Izzy." Caesar looks up to his mom who blinks away some misty eyes.

"You're so sweet, hijo. But we'll be okay, you have to focus on yourself too. Maybe you can do something with art? You're always drawing, right?"

"I could also work with Julian at the docks. He said they're always looking for people to help move crates."

"Julian. The same Julian who gave you bags of stolen oranges to sell?" His mother asks with a pointed voice.

"Mom I-"

"I don't like that boy." She says simply.

The radiant summer sun shone down upon the verdant sylvan landscape; these fair meadows and groves had an ethereal quality that was, of course, a vestige of the faewild of old. The sight of its remnant had been among the most enchanting things you had ever seen.

And yet, you couldn't help escape the burden that was so heavily laden upon your head; the crown may be kept safely in the vaults under the Albrechtsburg, but its weight never quite left your head. It was among the elder days of the 13th century, the year 1275 to be exact. And the kingdom of Greifswald was at peace. Still, as far as realms were concerned, yours was still young, for it had been but thirteen years since the formal proclamation of the kingdom, though in truth, it has existed as a polity since 1241, though only as a dukedom. 34 years of an Adlershorst upon the throne, though the lineage stretched back further; by the standards of the continent, the royal bloodline was virtually new money.

Now, in the waning years of the 13th century, the king and court are engaged upon a tour of the northern fiefs, solidifying alliances and ensuring the loyalty of vassals. Yet things are not as they should be; monks travel and do not greet their king, and nobles leave their estates and disappear, only for them to resurface in strange and secretive gatherings. It wasn't rebellion, or at least, it hadn't been able to coalesce into one, but your suspicions were brewing.

War you knew; compared to the soldierly simplicity of that life, dealing with the two-faced members of the aristocracy was something you had grown into, but you still perceived the practice with distaste.

It is not that you don't enjoy the pleasure of conversation with some wine and roasted pork, but you would prefer it without the threat of walking yourself into a verbal trap, where you would need to extricate yourself with utmost courtesy.

All in all, the tour has had mixed results; the count of Hoenstein had provided you with some useful information regarding one Oskar von Schmallhausen and a Hedwig von Merckhayn, though what they were up to is a bit of a puzzle. On the other hand, your visit with the burgrave of Dornheim was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster. You said a few things were maybe a tad bit high-handed, he retorted in kind, and you left as soon as you had come, before he would tear up his contract of vassalage to you or do something worse.

The matter left a bitter, though perhaps sour, taste in your mouth, and you didn't really feel like continuing this tour, or at least wanted to speed it up for your sake. If anything, the nobles should come to you; if all of them were in Ritterbach, there would be no more of this. But what was started should be seen through...

General links of varying importance.
Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/u/Adlershorst
DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/adlershorst
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Settler%20Lord%20Quest

You are Motoharu Hisanori, and today, April 3rd, marks the beginning of your high school life.

You are planning to murder somebody. You are an unassuming person of 28 years of age. You would consider yourself well-educated and quite cunning.
No significant other in your life. You work four days a week in an office for a cookware company in Scholton, a nearby town. You would not describe yourself as particularly empathetic or emotional, and the idea of killing someone strikes you about as unsettling as the idea of shooting a deer in a hunt.

What kind of killer are you?
>Detailed plans and schemes, creative deaths. I have a complexity fetish.
>Impulsive and brutal. I make a mess.
>Sadistic and drawn out. I just want them to hurt for a long, long time.
>Sexual. I’m a slave to my impulses. Aren’t we all?
>Simple and efficient. No frills. No fuss.
>Quick kills but I leave clues and evidence to taunt the police and public. I want a chase. I want to be seen.

Humanity has spread out into a massive sprawling empire throughout the galaxy. The edges of the sprawl remain poorly guarded and sparsely settled after all humanity throughout a thousand stars has always been alone save for their own creations which once waged war against them. This is no longer true now an unknown force has begun to attack sector 63 and other sectors and it is up to poorly supplied and desperate sailors to hold them back.


You are the Admiral of the naval fleet of sector 63 one of nearly a 100 rimward sectors on the edge of settled human space. The war has finally turned in humanity's favor the once unending horde of bird ships, who you now know are called the Argono have finally ebbed away. The war is not yet over for yourself; a large enemy fleet has formed and seems intent on finally ending your harassing attacks by striking your home port of Carth. In the last few weeks you've been striking the main body of the enemy fleet in an attempt to weaken the blow that will fall on your home.


Your fleet soon arrives at Cartha having finished your last ambush you should have at the current rate of enemy advance roughly a week before they arrive here. A significant minefield greets you at the jump point exit hundreds of the dangerous weapons scattered in a circle around the point. A signal from the fort which is visible from the jump point is the next thing to greet you, a friendly greeting from Colonel Roose who is legally in command while your gone. It also includes a request for a meeting at some point.

The defense of Cartha can be broken up into three distinct types: static defenses like the fort and mines, naval in the form of ships and torpedo boats operating out of the fort and finally the army which currently mans the fort and holds several positions on the planet. Which to visit first?

>The fleet
>The army
>Static defenses


Past Threads:https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=BrinkQM

<span class="mu-r">This is the end of the world.</span> It's also the birth of a new one, or an old one, depending on who you ask. Maybe it's more like an overdue arranged marriage.

You might not have been fully aware, but the world used to cast a Shadow: a separate realm of spirits, kept away by a barrier that only a certain few were ever meant to cross. Spirits are capricious, rarely logical, and often dangerous beings composed of the essence and energy of all things real; scuttling reflections with their own arcane hierarchies and motivations.

But every wall has its rats, and the barrier between your world and the spirit world was no exception. The Beshilu are a nasty manner of demon - derived from and connected to the spirit world, but fettered to the world of flesh, and gifted with many terrible abilities. They massacre and they multiply, and their only desire has ever been to tear down that wall between worlds... to gnaw at its foundations in greater and greater numbers, until the wolves could no longer keep them at bay.

They succeeded.

Too many tears. Too many crumbling wounds between worlds. The gauntlet was sundered, and when that wall crumbled away, the world of mortals and the world of spirits were merged into one. In those first terrible moments, everyone on Earth could hear a trillion shrill voices screeching out in triumph, and swarms of rats swelled across streets and forests in writhing tides.

The fabric of reality is now like a sieve, the threads wavering apart and stretching in new directions; space and time operate differently. The sun no longer rises, or sets, and light instead seems to meander from one place to the next according to whim. Places seem to stir and shift, reacting to their occupants in sometimes unpredictable fashion. The rules have changed, and will likely change more, but things will never go back to the way they were.

That was three days ago, and it would be a stretch to say the dust has settled, but you are adjusting to the chaos. You're a survivor, and while you may not fully grasp what's going on, you're not unfamiliar with the supernatural. You are determined to knuckle down and make your way in this fucked up new world....

>Cont'd

It is the 27th of July, 1944. The 4th Armored Division prepares to take Coutances. You are an M4 Sherman tank and its crew, at the tip of the spearhead.

Who are you?

Tank Type: <span class="mu-g">M4 Sherman</span> <span class="mu-s">(Early) (75mm)</span>
Tank Name: _____
Commander: Sgt _____
Gunner: Cpl _____
Loader: Pvt _____
Driver: Pvt _____
Assistant Driver: Pvt _____

>Write-In Names
>>Write-In Backstory if it fancies you