So I Blew Up Our Ship

A few things have happened since my last post. I can't really talk about them because I am still wrestling with what they might ultimately mean. Having said that, I can happily report that I am still keeping up with the word count for NaNoWriMo and I am very proud of that. What I can and will talk about is something both delightful and entertaining. Because I am both of those things.

I recently joined a group of guys who are currently playing Warhammer 40K: Dark Heresy the role-playing game, not the table-top. I haven't played an RPG in years, and I am finding it very interesting with the variety of things my character can do. My character is a Tech Priest named 42 who has no idea of why he is involved with the current group of Inquisitors. I am having a blast exploring the innocence of my character while also figuring out how the game mechanics work. Its also a really good opportunity for me to get out of the house and do something that I enjoy. We meet once a week and play for roughly 8 hours. Let me tell you, those hours fly by while playing and every time we stop, I have a moment of 'dammit, why can't we just stay here and play straight through to Monday?'

Onto yesterday. So, my character really has clue about things like combat and can't really take a punch. 42 is a very delicate being who wants only to communicate with the machine spirit and if necessary, blow people up from a distance. He is very good at hacking which is why I think the others tolerate him. He can do things with machines and computers that the others cannot and he is constantly surprising them with his talents. Except for yesterday. He might be in trouble.

To make a long story short, 42 was supposed to be assisting with capturing data from a spaceship that was stranded in the middle of nowhere. He ripped his Void-suit and injured himself and was sent back to the ship. Strike one. He gets onto the ship and discovers a plot to kill his teammates but doesn't know how to communicate that because he has no fellowship skills. Strike two. Then, the traitorous pilot shackles 42 and disables his mechadendrites (robotic helper-tentacles that can smash through things and carry shit and are very useful) and pistol-whips him, confusing him further. The pilot forces 42 to issue the restart information to his teammates who are on the other ship and have no clue what's going on. Finally, one of his teammates kind of suspects that things aren't going according to plan and in the process of people being shot at by the traitorous prick who is piloting our ship and 42 managing to get free and turn on the robot sentries still on the ship, the pilot ends up getting pasted across the inside of the cockpit which then erupts in a huge fire. Strike three.

It ended up alright, but the fact that remains that 42 is single-handedly responsible for fucking things up every single time shit goes down. I already have my freak-out speech ready for they get back to the ship and start screaming at 42 for blowing up the ship. It will be epic.

So, when things happen in real life I can always remember that at least I didn't blow up the escape ship. Yet.