Sup Veeky Forums it's mad Friday in the UK and I've been given the night off to shitpost and tell stories.
Some of you may know Britbongsteros well others may be experiencing this for the first time.
>Wat is this? Think a less regular all guardsman party but OP is usually drunk and there are spectacularly more spelling mistakes.
They're also stories from my long time gaming group that I enjoy telling. Also penguins. Veeky Forums seems to have rather enjoyed the last few threads and you never know you might too.
What is the world of Britbongsteros like? A world much like our own, except with a very healthy dose of alt-history and magic. There's bits of every possible mythos and additionally the DM hates you and everyone you've ever loved.
Dramatis Personae: Angus - An orc from Dundee. Originally a greengrocer but also horrendously proficient with the flamethrower he carries. The flamethrower doubles as a thermic lance. The bard - A human, wears a kilt, plays the bagpipes. Occasionally has great ideas. The DM uses his own taste in music for what the bard actually plays (so usually classic rock or country & western). Cruella - Essentially a Dark Eldar wych wearing more clothes. She is vicious and stealthy. Armed with two daggers and a sword that she talks to. The wizard - Not actually magic but can command metal (iron) and summon various sharp or pointy things. Including chainsaws. The Navvie (also called Burt) - A very large human with a hammer. He hits things with it. Aldous - A dwarven knight. Wears full plate. Carries twin revolvers and a gatling shotgun. Smokes a pipe. The more observant amongst you might note that this is also me.
So, I'll give this a few minutes and let user decide, or I'll pick one.
Should there be more than one user, dubs decide. I'll give it ten minutes.
Jason Carter
Oh and as usual the MST3K mantra applies, so while in theory we are all dead, we like to get the group back together every so often. Both adventures having taken place within the last three months, they fit into the overall storyline but with some extra little bits and bobs. I have a feeling one is going to turn into a new arc.
>Comic Haven't heard from drawfag in a while - I'll chase him at some point soon.
This is the last thing we were talking about >pic related
Parker Richardson
Oh, hello! My first time catching one of these legendary threads.
Let's hear about the chamber of Maximum Fuck!
Jordan Miller
Alright then user.
Here we go.
So this story is from not long after I got back from the US. The DM enjoying the idea of linking things up to Real Life (TM) it has a slightly more American flavour.
>Britbongsteros and the Chamber of Maximum Fuck
The party being the story in Grimsby.
>DM why are we in Grimsby?
>Why is anyone ever in Grimsby Cruella?
>... that is oddly profound.
We have been sent here as usual by the Privy Council. The recent Cod Wars (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cod_Wars) have resulted in an immense quantity of giant mutant cod generally causing havoc on local shipping fleets, the Icelandic Stupidly Attractive Elves have pulled a fast one and the reparations they were to pay have resulted in large quantities of wrecked boats and >something weird going on
The party sigh audibly.
>Party: DM this is what happens every time, we turn up in some small fishing village, shit gets weird, everybody dies, organs and bits are everywhere and then we all go home for tea and medals.
>The DM looks enormously displeased.
William Cooper
The DM reshuffles his notes. Sighs, drinks, sighs again, drinks some more.
I will translate from DM as we go.
"Clearly that is not why you, as the most excellent of the Countries' problem solvers are here." >Ok you fuckwits, you asked for it. "The actual adventure that I carefully planned." >I am pulling this out of my ass right now. "meticulously and no there's no railroading but if you had some patience, you'd all actually get the hook in a second." >Will you stop ruining my carefully laid out plot, I'm about thirty seconds from rocks fall and everybody dies.
The mutant cod have it seems, after a sterling action by the SBS (Special Bastard Squadron) been defeated already (oh thank god), however it seems that their roe (fish eggs) have some very odd properties.
The above (and below) are explained to us by the spectacularly moustachioed Colonel K (pic related) of the SBS.
>Bloody downright weird, in fact, that's why we called you chaps. You're the experts and we were told the most expendable. We lost half a dozen men getting this stuff sealed up.
Colonel K gestures at a lead lined box.
>We want you to take this stuff to the Research Facility on HMS Habbacuck, it's totally classified but it's somewhere in the Penines.
Caleb Taylor
[Forgot pic]
This revelation leads, as usual, to an argument.
>Party: DM! DM! Isn't that a huge boat thing? >DM: Yes? >What's it doing up in a mountain range? >You'll find out.
So with some exchange of papers, signatures and a very interesting handshake between Cruella and Colonel K (she apparently knows about this sort of stuff). We take custody of the boxes of weirdness.
>So it's a milk run?
>DM: Yes, of course it is.
[Those of you who have been following these for a while may be aware of how unwise this is].
Ryan Richardson
We leave Grimsby (thank god) aboard a train up to (via a lot of places) Slaggyford. [THIS IS A REAL PLACE]
We have the carriage to ourselves, just us and this weird lead lined box.The party are still savvy enough to watch the thing like hawks. This train carriage is normally used for transporting gold bullion across the UK and we are essentially sealed in a bank vault with this...thing.
The urge to peek in the box is wisely restrained, we are expecting something odd to happen, maybe for the train to crash, for the roe to leak out and start morphing people into weird thing aliens, or for martian death machines to attack. Something much, much worse happens.
Andrew Adams
>What could possibly be worse than...
We stop in what (after opening an armoured letter box to peek out) is definitely Leeds.
We hear a sound. A sort of chime noise that is entirely out of place.
We act entirely on very well (DM) honed instincts. Weapons are made ready, chainsaws appear over the Wizard, the Navvie drinks a beer, Angus lights a cigar with his flamethrower's pilot light, the bard hums a tune, Cruella just sort of lazily opens one eye from where she was sleeping.
I'm aware a lot of Veeky Forums's population is actually American, so as a refresher, America in this setting is composed of a huge number of tiny microcosms of strange magic (think each county is something different) the Indian nations are a thing, there are regular crusades from the East Coast into the Indian West, every slice of Americana can be found and chances are it'll shoot you.
We gather round the vision ports, staring out.
We've only ever actually met the one American so this is interesting for us too.
Dylan Thomas
For anyone playing along at home, please be aware I'm very happy to be asked questions if I am not clear on anything.
Kevin Jones
We see a group of what can only be described as Marines. Quite a lot of them in fact.
We know Brit(bongsteros)ain is somewhat skint following events in Ireland and elsewhere, to the extent that we have had to seek funding via sharing research and knowledge with our colonial cousins but we had not quite expected this.
Serried ranks of Marines stand in front of some very peculiar looking olive drab vehicles. They stand on two legs and whilst they're the dimensions of a man, are about the size of a two cart horses standing atop one another. The weird squat vehicles are festooned with guns. (think space marine dreadnought in olive drab with white stars on it)
In front of them all, stands one very, very big marine. Somewhere a bald eagle cries as he snaps a salute. He's handsome, square jawed, and entirely gorgeous. Cruella comments "just what I like." The lads are less than amused.
The marines start to board the train, they don't however approach our carriage, but clearly they're going to the same place.
The Navvie and I decide to go and talk to them.
Xavier Russell
The Marines we establish are from the Pennsylvania protectorate, all of them big lads - nearly big enough to challenge the Navvie in arm wrestling. All far too clean cut. They press cigarettes and even stockings on us, saying they're for our lady friends. "We all just wanna be friendly" (as always I can never do the accents) but there seems to be something a bit off about them. The Navvie and I can't quite place it.
The square jawed officer smiles as he spots us, he's covered in medals. "Well now howdy. What ya'll got here?" [sorry can't do the accents]
Jose Young
We establish this is one Smedley Butler (google it). He doesn't seem very happy with us, or specifically my (I'm a dwarf) existence.
"What are you doing in this carriage?"
I expect better of DM than some thinly veiled Dwarves = African Americans fantasy racism.
"You people"
["What do you mean you people?"]
"better get out of this carriage, we don't take kindly to spies."
We show him our bona-fides, he mulls these over. "I don't see any stars and stripes on here, the council of 13 States wouldn't sanction this. Out."
Things get a lot less friendly very very quickly. At bayonet point we are ushered out.
Andrew Clark
So we've met some Americans, anyway, we arrive shortly after in Slaggyford. The Americans march off in the same direction we apparently want to be going. We can already see HMS Habbakuk in the distance. Somehow the edifice of Pyekrete has found its way between the banks of the river South Tyne, just north of Knarsdale Hall.
It looks like an extra mountain that has just kind of...fallen out of the sky.
The jet engines that festoon it's surface give a possible hint as to how it got here.
Requisitioning a horse and cart, we get our box up to the Habbakuk, impressed at the number of American troops and indeed flags that seem to be around the place.
Our little bit of little England seems to have become Airstrip One.
Connor Morgan
Ok I apparently need to collect Cruella, back in less than an hour.
David Campbell
>Think a less regular all guardsman party but OP is usually drunk and there are spectacularly more spelling mistakes.
Eh, you do a far better job of coherence that I ever could live-writing. And I think you've got me beat for timeliness as well these days.
I just checked and it's been less than an hour, what gives?
Lincoln Green
Well one does also have to put her to bed.
And get her a bucket,
and lovingly hold her hair back while she's sick into said bucket.
Additionally I had no idea you followed these.
Also I'm back by the way - and very happy that I can now have my first gin of the evening.
Arrive at the tunnel that leads aboard the Habbakuk, it looks a lot like pic related.
Inside, as we (well Angus) carry the box of mysterious roe, we see an awful lot of Americans, and Germans, and Danes (weird eel things) along with a bunch of other nationalities - and of course identifiably different American states. There's nary a union jack to be seen. We're well out of our comfort zone here, but of course UK PLC is skint and we need their help.
What can very quickly be identified as Alan Turing bustles up to us and checks our papers.
We are amazed by the facility, some sort of elephantine octopus cum zebra is electro-prodded into a cell as we watch, meanwhile bits of Martian are shuttled past on a little cart, it seems like every single possible strand of weird in Britbongsteros leads here, and none of it is British. We aren't entirely sure how we feel about this.
Daniel Price
The interior of the Habbakuk is a hive of tunnels and activity, it seems everywhere we look there's something strange going on, connotations of the BPRD, the lobby in MIB, and I'm sure there's something in Harry Potter about this but I've never read the books.
Turing deigns to start giving us the tour.
>The Habbakuk was a seagoing vessel, as you all know (we didn't really) until about eight years ago when an early experiment in teleportation resulted in our current positioning. [this is actually a tradition in the RN, as if you're posted to a shore facility it's still technically an HMS (I think this is for pay reasons) so for example you might be at the facility in Weston Supermare, which is called HMS Birnbeck, or, you might AWESOMELY be at HMS Brontosaurus which is at Castle Toward.]
The whole place has a very real vibe of Cave Johnson.
So what does this mean for us? Well, apparently not much, it seems like there's lots going on and we aren't part of it, there's all kinds of fantastic science which we can observe, it's fascinating in a way, but we're used to things trying to eat our faces by now. What's this about?
>Turing continues: What are we doing here? Well, science, every single thing that makes no sense in this world, comes here, every single item, book, critter, it gets dissected here, and hopefully, we can learn from it. One day, we might even be able to use this knowledge to develop the cause of humanity.
>Turing starts taking us for a little walk through the containment units, highlights include >unit 63 - Mountain Negre a bizarre dissapearing teleporting rock bouncing around its containment sphere >Unit 34 - A tank full of...goldfish? That somehow swim in philosophical notation >Unit 14 - moondust? Not sure, it is however, slowly painting pictures of people on the toilet >Unit 138 - A mass of cogs and vaccum tubes, shifting, trembling and changing, apparently it's eaten 19 people >Unit 252 - Bits of our friend from the antarctic >Unit 991 - A hamster >Unit 5477 - Explosive lemons >Unit 7899 - a bookshelf. It's surrounded by skeletons.
The list goes on.
Jaxson Thomas
Good god how does so much sick come out of 60 kilos of woman...
Eli Ortiz
From 1d4chan >Played by Aldous' PC's then (and now again) GF. How does a PC date a player?
Justin Reed
Well I'm only 5'11 in real life so lets go with that.
The facility is a fascinating place, the habbakuk is a repository of every single weirndess and some we have never encountered, a small herd of sentient moa that enjoy poetry, a vase of flowers that happens to enjoy melting eyes, all of that good stuff.
Just as we're starting to get comfortable (and drinking some alien drink called "kwafee") Turing takes us past cell 777.
It's empty.
>that shouldn't be empty he says.
Colton Rodriguez
Excessive alcohol?
Nathaniel Lewis
is this a quest type thing or is it more like crazy drug-induced storytelling?
Blake Evans
Yo?
Nathan Gomez
fuck, i guess we lost the brit.
Nathaniel Mitchell
I think it's both.
Jordan Murphy
Kinda both, though gin induced.
Morning user.
Pretty much.
Story time continuing once I've convinced Cruella to make me a bacon sandwich.
