AW: Chippewa, Population: 202.

Retrospectives for 8/8!
Or what you oughta be doing for bonus experience ;)

Hokay, so some clarification on retrospectives:

-You should be able to put up your very own retrospectives, just like Rigger’s player did! Just tack em on up there. For those who need some kind of permission to put something up, well, here it is. Commenting on my post is less obvious than putting up a brand new post, though, so I’d prefer it if you made your own post so everybody knows immediately when you posted! Wee!

-Retrospectives should ideally help inform absent players of what happened while they were gone while informing everybody else a little bit more about your character’s perspective. The former makes the MC’s job easier and the latter makes things fun for everybody!

-You get one experience for every retrospective you put up, provided we actually had a session that week. If I am sick one week and you put up a retrospective that week, bully for you but no experience.

Feel free to ask any other questions right here!

Love and kisses, the MC

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AW 6/27 Introspectives

Rigger

Well, things seemed to be looking up. I should have taken that as a hint that I’d get shot or something, but, well… I’d just gotten laid. For the first time in a long time. And it was actually pretty good. Afterwords I went for a walk and started scrounging scrap round about the compound. There was some pretty good shit just laying around for the taking. Actually a whole armload by the time I got the factory.

So, scrap in hand, I took another look at the borked machinery and suddenly I just saw it—how this fit there and with that there this clearly went up there… before I knew it, and with no concept of how much time had passed, I had a couple pieces of scrap left with nowhere to put them.

So I turned the machinery on.

And it worked.

I was standing there, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction when Lively turned up. Guess he heard the factory running and decided to check it out. We had a brief conversation about the possibility of my crafting something for him—which I’m happy to play with as long as he keeps it on the down low. Oh, and he said something about “What’s going on outside.” So I went out to see what he was talking about.

And took a bullet to the chest, which knocked me on my ass.

I love my lead apron, by the way, every single day I’m thankful for its comforting weight.

I took another couple bullets scrambling for cover—in retrospect, those crappy grenades probably would have done less damage to me, but when you see one hurtling through the air for you—yeah, I panicked a bit. One of them got through, though I didn’t have time to see if it punched a hole through my apron or what, because just then Lively’s sanity went completely off the reservation.

Seriously, why else would he strip down to his boxers, scoop up a metal shiv on the run, then stab some dude to death? I was still wrapping my mind around the thought “boxers” when, all wild eyed he ran for the sewers and disappeared inside—followed immediately by Bright Lark.

Shit.

I followed, wrench in hand, and when I caught up to them, they both pulled weapons and opened fire on a whole bunch of raggedy oil-soaked people. Oh yeah, and the raggedy people were on fire. And they all wanted to hug Lively.

I guess it was the shorts.

I turned to see if anyone was behind us, and when I turned back Lively and Bright Lark were just finishing mowing all of the motherfuckers down. When did they turn into fucking gunluggers, anyway?

Then I saw the arms of fire rising out of the oil barrels, like someone buried alive clawing their way up out of the ground—only made of fire. I was naked, fending off blows, reaching for, grasping for anything to ward off—make stop-I bludgeoned him-clamped a lid on the barrel-blood-smother-brain-barrellid-eye on cheek-hotbloodandbrainsonthighs-fire. out.

Bright Lark staring at me all pity and touching me on the shoulder. Don’t touch. Not now. Not after that.

Did I win? Do I ever?

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AW 6/20 Retrospectives

I figured this would be the best way to do retrospectives, we can all comment on what happened in here!

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Welcome to Chippewa

Well, let me catch you up on what’s happened so far. I may not remember it quite the same way as you do, and you’re welcome to tell your side, but this is my side so wait your damn turn.

Our ragtag bunch of survivors have landed in Chippewa, a holding carved out of an old prison somewhere in Dakota. Kingfisher, the hardholder, is tough but fair, and he’s at the reins of one of the best manufacturers of quality rations in the region. You can count on a box of Chippewa Cracker Jack to last you at least a year under any weather conditions. It might be more chewy than crunchy by the end of that year, but it’s got sugar and protein and enough preservatives to keep the bugs out, which is more than you can say for most of the vittles around here.

Of course, all of that’s no good if the machines seize up like they did yesterday. The Cracker Jack has stopped flowing, somebody’s leg got all mangled up, and now the workers are out in the streets, milling about, looking for trouble. They got it, alright. Brightlark the Hocus rolled back into town- yep, the same one who stole Trey the Gunlugger out from Kingfisher’s gang awhile back- and she brought a new friend, Lively the Brainer. First thing she does, she starts having a drum circle right in the square, dancing and everything, and the idle workers start gathering like flies to honey. Kingfisher ain’t too happy about that, so the hardholder takes the gang over to suss out the situation. Bunch of fucking hyenas in bright orange jumpsuits, led by Grungeballs in brown. Next thing you know, Kingfisher and Brightlark are walking off together while the cult and the gang get down Woodstock-style. Stranger things have happened, but not by much.

Meanwhile Rigger’s got the shit job of trying to get the factory running again. His brain’s still a little sore from Lively using in-brain puppet strings to coerce him into fixing Knives’ bike- it doesn’t help that the folks who would know how the damn busted machine works are all out chilling with the cult. Plus he keeps worrying about this guy he glimpsed through the maelstrom, some soot-stained fucker giggling over a gas can with a filthy rag sticking out of it. Didn’t get a good look at his face, but he didn’t feel right. at. all.

Trey’s feeling right as rain after getting patched back together by Char, even if he’s short a vital organ or two. He does catch Lively sneaking off with Penny, a fellow cultist, while the others are distracted by all the dancing and drumming. He tails them to an old RV up on blocks, and soon enough the RV starts a-rockin’. Well, Trey starts a-knockin’. On a propane tank. With an assault rifle. One big fuckin boom later, everybody in the drum circle (and everybody else within earshot) comes running to see Lively and Penny step out of the RV, dazed and flushed and clearly up to some sexy times. Trey points to Lively with an I’m-too-dumb-to-lie grin and says “He made me do it. He’s a creepy fuckin brainer.” Hilarity ensues. After much shouting and pointing of guns, Kingfisher and Brightlark (who look pretty disheveled and sweaty themselves) come over to settle things, hauling Lively off to the brig and Brightlark calming poor Penny who is just frightened out of her wits. On account of the gang pointing a bunch of guns at her and all.

After that it gets a bit hectic- Trey starts checking the holding for security vulnerabilities, Brightlark opens her brain about the whole scenario going down, and Rigger tries in vain to convince the workers to help him fix the machinery. Long story short, they end up staring at a sewer grate with long black greasy fingerprints smeared over the side like someone was crawling in or out. The stains smell like burning engine oil, and it’s dark as sin down there. For lack of a light, Brightlark reaches out to pluck one out of the maelstrom. Well, she got what she asked for alright. When she pulls her head out of the clouds she notices a gas can just a little ways away. With a filthy rag sticking out of it. And that rag is on fire.

Trey was all ‘fuck this shit’ and gone in a flash. The rest- Rigger, Brightlark, and Kingfisher- were caught in the blast. When the smoke cleared and folks picked themselves up off the floor, Brightlark found herself holding a chunk of the exploded gas can… and it was still burning. Not her hand. Just the chunk of red plastic. Well, you’ve got a light now…

Lively, well… Lively gave the two people guarding him half a Chelsea grin. To match the one he gave himself. You really think they’re going to admit they gave a brainer a fucking knife?

At least Char’s stocked up again. Till next time.

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