I've been gone for a while, lot of things going on for me and I've been all over the place, lately. I've been meaning to get back to the playground more often, and now's as good a time as any I suppose.

I could have sworn we had a thread like this, but I couldn't seem to locate it. Chances are I'm still just a tad groggy and didn't catch it.

So, last session you either ran or attended come in and share the tales of your gaming exploits. I'm sure something worth hearing happened either in-game or out.

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Last session I ran was a d20 modern game set in a post-apocalyptic America, running some new mechanics both borrowed and 'brewed. We're using the shot clock from Aces & Eights (Which I would definitely suggest trying to work into any game you're playing featuring firearms.) and a similar setup for melee attack placement, also armor's function is to offer sectional DR.

So, the two players I have are this guy that's always been a bit of a problem player (Never bothers to actually roleplay, it's like he's just there to roll dice and listen to me talk for hours on end.) and a guy fresh out of jail (Great friend of mine, definitely glad he was only in for 9-10 months.) that's also been a tad of a problematic player (Always has the most ridiculous character concepts even when we're going for a more serious feel.).

This was the first session of this game, so it included character creation. The first guy rolled up a strong hero, Warbock, with some a handful of cosmetic mutations and one with an actual effect. Basically, he's a 40k Ork with a .50 cal antimaterial rifle. The other guy rolls up a tough hero, Grell, a brawler with some heavy mutation. He has a thick coat of fur, runs on all fours, and his fur's pigmentation changes with his mood. So I'm running a game with an Ork and a rainbow bear-man. wat.

With the setup out of the way, let's get to the real meat of this session, in bullet-point form:


-They're from a small community that lives in an old military compound somewhere out in the western half of the U.S.

-They're out to hunt for food, keep the supply up.
-They end up getting some wild dogs out on the flats under a chunk of highway.
-One was reduced to dog-jelly by that .50 cal.

-When they get back, they see that the sniper towers are empty and that the entrance has signs of forced entry.
-Make their way carefully through the building, check every room of every floor.
-Generally they find nothing more than scrap, but they do get a gun or two and some knives and such in the kitchen, storage room, and mess hall (pretty much all of which are filled with their dead clansmen.)
-In one of the rooms they find a lockbox with a machinepistol in it.
-In another they find a young boy (one of their own) freaking out under a bed.
-Naturally, they give him the MP.

-The rest of the building is empty and they leave with one of the carts (which Grell pulls), a radio, and whatever other scrap they have after seeing one of their elders face-down in a pool of his own blood having spelled out ZOD* on his desk (in that same blood, of course).

-Start heading toward the nearest civilization, Salt Lake City.

-Fight some raiders in the night.
-One gets his head blown off by the .50 cal
-The other gets tackled, then shot execution-style

-Encounter a traveling merchant (in a wonerful top hat)
-Basically, they just stock up on ammo, upgrade their cart, and get a steer.

-Meet an old man who gives them some rhubarb pie because he's kind of a boss like that.

-Come across an old hospital on their way to the city, seeing the city off in the distance.
-OH HOLY **** WHAT? A feral ghoul jumps out from the canopy and strikes at Warbock.
-Cue epic battle on a moving cart as 6 more ghouls join in the fight.
-One of them impales itself on Grell's spiked pauldron.
-One suffers death by curb-stomp.
-These *******s constantly aim for the face, it seems.
-One gets a golf-swing from a big ass pipe to the groin.
-One gets nearly broken in half by that same pipe.

-OH GOD, NO! Kris (The child with them) has been mortally wounded! D:
-Miraculously, they manage to stabilize his poor ass at -9.

-Cue mad dash to the city to get the poor kid treated.

-They make it in time and their steer plants both faces in the cement in town square, knocked unconscious from the effort.
-Let me just explain what that poor, poor, lone guard saw coming toward him.

A cart pulled by a two-headed steer is kicking up a massive cloud of dust as it comes toward the city at full-speed. On this cart are the corpses of seven dark-blue ghouls, a man that is nearly eight feet tall with an anti-material rifle on his back, a man covered in thick checker-pattern fur, and a young boy that's clearly been nearly torn asunder. For all this guard knew he, and a good chunk of Salt Lake City's population, was about to die.

-They manage to get the kid to the local clinic in time and he's currently stable and in a mild coma, with a chunk of his left thigh replaced with a sheet of metal.