EIGHTEEN WHEELERS OF FORTUNE: LET'S PLAY BMFCT

FORSOOTH I SHALL RUN A CAMPAIGN OF THE LEANEST, MEANEST, TABLETOP ROLEPLAYING SYSTEM, BIG MOTHERFUCKIN CRAB TRUCKERS ON THIS'ERE FINE FORUM

(^That there link is the rules, it's one page)

Also I'll stop hollerin' in all caps because it's fucking unnecessary

If you want to play, fill in the profile below! The Motherfuckin' Crab Goddess shall choose four? Let's go with four. Four worthy fuckin' sons of trilobites to take to the highways.

This may or may not be a re-enactment of fuckin' Mad Max Fury Road with motherfuckin' 300-pound crab trucker expies, because the alternative is probably a freeform RP with minimal plot and a motherfuckin' DM (Decapod Matrideity) who gives no fucks. If either of those don't sound like your fuckin' jam then don't fuckin' sign up for this, yeah?

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Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker Name:
Your Motherfuckin' Job: Driver, Fighter, and Lifter are the defaults given in the book, but you can make what the fuckin' ever.
Your Three Fuckin' Traits: -These!
-Are Single Words!
-With Shout Poles! Add some fuckin' deets afterward so they can be pithy without being vague as fuck.
Your Fuckin' Life Story: But keep it fuckin' short, we don't have all day and there's freight that needs a-hauling!

How you Fuckin' Roll: Would you be down for some motherfuckin' Player-vs-Player action? Or would you rather minimal risk your trucker bites the fuckin' dust?

I have received some queries from prospective Motherfuckin' Crab Truckers, so allow me to bestow GREAT CRABLY KNOWLEDGE:

Cussing is a common, but not essential part of being a Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker! If you are uncomfortable with playing/narrating a character which swears, you can make a character with the cleanest of crabmouths! It'll be entertaining and that's what's important.

If you want to express interest but write a profile up later, that's all good! Just post "Motherfuckin' reserved" or something and edit in your profile later. That's easier for me so I know how many folks I'm dealing with.

Signups will be open for 24 Motherfuckin' Hours, so have a good fuckin' think about your rad crab! Or don't and knock out something in ten minutes, whatever seems like more fun.

If there are lots of good profiles I may take on extra players, this game is pretty rules-light and this system seems pretty suited to PvP if that's what y'all are up for.

Actually I think I could stand to add some stuff to the profile so lemme get right on that

Gosh Darn Crab Trucker Name: Sweetcakes
Your Dang Job: Diplomat
Your Stinkin' Traits: Driving! Cartography! Cooking!
(please follow me on that Cooking is both a survival and a fighting skill)
Your darn tootin' Life Story: Sweetcakes is new to this whole trucking business, but they're determined to do their best! They just got out of trucking school, and they came out of it with the impression that trucking can be an extraordinarily dangerous job, so they are here to lessen the amount of unnecessary violence and dirtiness that seems to come with the job~
How You Spankin' Roll: Sweetcakes absolutely hates fighting and would rather not turn on their crabby brethren.


edit: oh the official rule page said to use 4 traits but we're using 3 in here, whoooooops~

Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker Name: Scab The Crab Bard
Your Motherfuckin' Job: "Bard" is just "Crab" backwards
Your Three Fuckin' Traits: Lift! Lute! Loot! Repute!
Your Fuckin' Life Story: Scab was once a Lifter, but he always had always had a propensity for enjoying the stopovers a little too much. One day, he woke up in a pile of garbage and his own boozy vomit to find that the truck he was to Lift for had Left without him instead. He vowed to clean up his act for The Motherfuckin' Crab Goddess. He kicked his habit to the curb (also "crab" spelled backwards) and became a roadie for a famous band of Rock Lobsters who were passing through. When the lead guitarist quit the band, he stepped up to the plate, and discovered a natural gift for shredding he honed to fame and fortune over the tour and accompanying album. Unfortunately, the band was wildly unstable by the time he joined, and so dissolved a little over a year and a half later. Now he's rudderless, and hoping to perhaps rejoin the trucking business and get back in the good grace of The Motherfuckin' Crab Goddess.

How You Fuckin' Roll: I do honestly want to see my character achieve their goals, but I think it's a lot more fun if they suffer, and suffer, and suffer, and as you know, Schazer, I have a unique propensity for creating and executing horrible plans.

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Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker Name: Snipsnaps "Gatling" Johnson
Your Motherfuckin' Job: Fighter
Your Three Fuckin' Traits: Shooting! Intimidating! Explosions!
Your Fuckin' Life Story: Snipsnaps came up rough in the saltiest of tidal pools, but he's trying to go straight. There's only so many times you can hear the death-screams of your fellow crab, even if it is just steam shootin' out between their shell plates. Moving cargo is the thing now, though somehow the life can't just stay in the past where it belongs.

How Your Fuckin' Roll: Friendship is Paramount

Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker Name: Piston Shrimp
Your Motherfuckin' Job: Truck Unfucker (Repair)
Your Three Fuckin' Traits: Bullshit! (MacGyver) Scuttle! (Truck Acrobatics) Trimaran! (Drive)
Your Fuckin' Life Story: Piston Shrimp spent most of his life assuming the Waterworld apocalypse happened and got real fucking good at making garbage float and do cool shit. Then he found Dry Land and it turned out he'd just been stuck in a fucking pond all this time. Piston found that his skillset transferred quite well to trucking and set out to attach fucking booster parachutes to every rig he met.
How you Fuckin' Roll: It's a Crab eat Crab world out there. Piston Shrimp lives and dies by the law of the road (which isn't the actual law law but more of the Bigger Truck Wins sorta deal)

Motherfuckin' Crab Trucker Name: Outer Bones McJones
Your Motherfuckin' Job: Crab
Your Three Fuckin' Traits:

• Pinchin'
  
• Scuttlin'
  
• Fights
  

Your Fuckin' Life Story:

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Spoiler

How you Fuckin' Roll: Fuckin' sideways.

OK THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH CRABBAGE THANK YOU

Introducing our motherfuckin' cast:

• Kitteneater as Sweetcakes
  
• Chwoka as Scab the Crab Bard
  
• Shredded as Lobster Crab
  
• Akumu as Snipsnaps "Gatling" Johnson
  
• Granolaman as Piston Shrimp
  
• Loather as Outer Bones McJones

Looks like we don't want a shitton of aggressive PvPing, so I'll make sure to have you motherfucker deal with all kinds of fuckery.

Let's get this show on the road!

Outer Bones McJones finds himself in a bucket. He tries to scuttle out, but another crab pulls him down to crawl over him. Outer Bones McJones pulls the other crab down and climbs over it. He tries to scuttle out, but another crab pulls him down to crawl over him. Outer Bones McJones pulls the other crab down and climbs over it. He tries to scuttle out, but another crab pulls him down to crawl over him. Outer Bones McJones pulls the other crab down and climbs over it. He tries to scuttle out, but another crab pulls him down to crawl over him. Outer Bones McJones pulls the other crab down and climbs over it. He tries to scuttle out, but another crab pulls him down to crawl over him.

The struggling crabs finally tip the bucket over. Outer Bones McJones snips at his former antagonists before climbing into his Big Rig. He's got goods to deliver, and this little detour cost him a lot of time

END FLASHBACK, BEGIN MOTHERFUCKIN' FLASHNOW



Dusk descends on Interstate 5 with the frustrated fuckin' roar of a dying predator. Five motherfuckin' crabs and a passably-disguised motherfuckin' lobster are collectively cajoling their rig (single) down the fuckin' highway, yelling to coordinate over its clanking and screeching.

Sweetcakes (bless 'em and blessed be the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess) yells to Outer Bones McJones, at the steering-helm, to take the next exit, near which lies a fridgin' depot where they might acquire themselves a better gosh-darnin' set of wheels.

In the back, Lobster Crab is trying their fuckin' hardest to do inventory, which is pretty fuckin' hard because Scab the Crab Bard is doing encouraging fuckin' guitar riffs in his ear. Also, your cargo is several metric fucktons of ice cream, and Piston Shrimp is fuckin' being kept on his point-footers between engaging emergency motherfuckin' repairs on the truck, and fixing the fuckin' refridgeration unit (which is on the fuckin' fritz).

It's a fuckin' shitshow. Snipsnaps "Gatling" Johnson, standing guard on the cab roof, nearly hits the fuckin' tarmac as Bones McJones takes the off-ramp too fuckin' sharply.

The Depot welcomes you in like the huge, grimy, disreputable child you are, various crevices sticky with melted ice cream. Due to a miscommunication through the radio, they've prepared up (8) motherfuckin' vehicles, in various incarnations of "truckiness".

It's expected that you take these fuckin' things off the depot's carapaced hands, because they were personally booned on down by the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess and there's really no sending them back.

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Describe your 8 blessed road-ppendages so the Crab Goddess may know you have received them, then tell me how you're going to get these fuckin' things out of the yard, along with your precious cargo of ice cream. If anything about your descriptions seems out of line, I'll tell you No fuckin' way and we can roll for it.

"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" yells Scab The Crab Bard, throwing his amp out the back of the truck as soon as the doors open, before the truck's even come to a stop. "IT'S FUCKIN' ALL FUCKED UP WITH THIS ICE CREAM GOO SHIT! THIS SHIT, HAD VACUUM TUBES, ALRIGHT?! THAT SHIT'S EXPENSIVE! IT'S A GOD DAMN ANTIQUE! FUCK! LISTEN TO THIS!" Scab strums furiously. All that comes out of his axe are pathetic clunks. He has been reduced to metaphorical impotence.

"I probably could have fixed that if you hadn'ta thrown it, shithead!" hollers Piston Shrimp.

"NOT IN THE GOD DAMN MOOD, PISTON!" screams Scab, collecting his guitar pedals into a duffel bag. "YOU GOT YOUR PINCERS FULL WITH THE FRIDGE ALREADY, DON'TCHA?" He picks up three crates of halfway-decent ice cream (rocky road that managed to survive the rocky road,) places it atop his head, and grumpily hops out of the truck. "Alright, where the fuck's the new truck?"

He carries his load over to the parking lot of the depot and nearly drops it all when he lays his eyes upon the most magnificent truck he's ever seen — it is in the shape of one gargantuan amp, with a cab on the front that looks like some kind of skull.

"Is this for me?" he asks, to nobody in particular. "No, fuck it, it's mine. The Motherfuckin' Crab Goddess has smiled upon me, woo boy!" He scuttles aboard like an excited child and loads the ice cream — careful not to disturb the enormous vacuum tubes that line the speaker-edge of the truck bed. Then, for some reason he loses interest in lifting and loading and scrambles up on top of the amp.

"Motherfucker... these knobs are the size of ME!" He shortly discovers, conversely, that the jack is still the correct size for his cord, and the rest of the crew discovers shortly after him, along with everyone in a 100-mile radius.

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SpoilerMy initial proposal for vehicles is 2 big rigs, 2 motorcycles, 1 jeep, 1 bardmobile, 1 glider and 1 lifter crabmech, with connectability functions to train them all together, but I shan't deny my fellow crustaceans their prerogative if they wanna build their own stuff. My proposal's just an idea so we don't all have to be driving at the same time.

No fuckin' way!

Crabs can't play guitar, they don't even have fingers!

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Spoiler

OH MOTHERFUCKIN' SNAP

Can Crabs play Guitar? Let's Contest it!

Loather, please roll 2d8; I anticipate Chwoka rolling 3d8 (bonus dice thanks to Lute!) and choosing the best two rolls among them.

If either of you believe you can add Complications (on Loather's part) or additional Bonus Dice (on Chwoka's part), please explain as you roll. (Just say the result or if you really want to, you can screencap your roll. We're all friends here though so I'm expecting honesty and good faith).

3+3

Complications: Pincers would snap a string instrument's strings. Pincers' lack of mobility make playing guitars much more difficult. Sheer size of pincers makes it hard to pluck something as small as a string. No crab has ever been recorded playing a guitar. Crabs don't have ears. Crabs breathe with gills, not lungs, because they live underwater; amplifiers don't work underwater, electric guitars don't work underwater. Crabs lack commercial appeal and are unlikely to get signed onto any major record label

1d8 = 4

1d8 = 7

1d8 = 4

11.

Show Content

SpoilerMy initial proposal for vehicles is 2 big rigs, 2 motorcycles, 1 jeep, 1 bardmobile, 1 glider and 1 lifter crabmech, with connectability functions to train them all together, but I shan't deny my fellow crustaceans their prerogative if they wanna build their own stuff. My proposal's just an idea so we don't all have to be driving at the same time.

Show Content

SpoilerLike I said on the IRC, I think the glider should have a bicycle built for crabs on it so that it can take liftoff and landoff by itself.

THE VERDICT

No fuckin' way? Yes fuckin' way! Scab eloquently disputes the claim with a sick, 140-decibel riff, which eventually fades into tinnitus and the persistent distant rumble of the highway. Motherfucker can play some motherfuckin' guitar, it seems like.

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SpoilerWe have decided that the person who yells No Fuckin' Way has to introduce the Complications before the dice are rolled.

Vehicles procured:

• Amp truck with skull-shaped cab
  

That riff is UNREAL!

No fuckin' way!

Yes fuckin' way!

1d8 = 7

1d8 = 5

1d8 = 2

12.

This riff is so god damn real! It's so fucking real you can reach out and TASTE it. It's the realest riff there ever was.

8+5

13

THAT RIFF

IS UNREAL

A prolonged noise echos out of the ice cream purgatory in the back of the rig. While muffled by distance, it grows steadily louder until you can finally barely parse the ending.

"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrddds"

THE VERDICT

That riff is absolutely unreal! What started out as a pretty solid melody is tossed about the effects pedals and miles of vacuum tubing, a stray delay pedal among the rigging warping it into a noise simultaneously from beyond the stars and the depths of Boiling Mayo Crab Hell.

It's still seriously fuckin' loud, but it somehow crosses the threshold from offensive semi-music to pure sound.

The offending delay pedal fuckin' explodes into shrapnel, startling Scab out of his groove. If for some godforsaken fuckin' reason you want to make that sound again, you're going to need to replace that motherfuckin' delay pedal.