“The maze,” they called it.
It looked like a city from above, evidence of civilization on this remote planet.
But down here, there is nothing civilized about it. Crumbling buildings are overrun by strange vines. The vines, called “razorvine” by Polt, grow in oddly straight lines, branching and turning like the paths on a circuit board. My curiosity about this strange plant is curtailed by that name, “razorvine,” and its implications. For now, I lean on the flamethrower to keep a safe distance from the plants as I head in the general direction Polt instructed.
Name: Corsa
Class: Bruiser
Strength 42 Speed 29 Intelligence 28 Violence 25
Reality 11 Fear 39 Body 20
Wounds: 0/3
Limit: 2
What is this?
This is a solo actual play report. I will be using the same sources and tools that I did for my last game: the Mothership hack 5 Million Worlds by
along with the Combined Systems Semiotic Standard v2.0 oracle by . This time, I am playing through Fruit from the Vine as seen in the .You can find Part 1 here:
The Razorvine Maze
1d5 Turns to Traverse Maze: 3
1d10 Turn #1 Countdown Event: 5
1d50 CSSS: 21 breach/surprise/compromise
It sure is a slog. I cannot say I have spent overmuch time around wild plants, but I would have expected this flamethrower to be much more effective that it has proven to be.
I make my was west along one of the main arterials of the old city, as Polt suggested, but I soon find my way blocked by a building that has toppled across the street. The rubble is still several stories tall, and through every crack grows stalks of razorvine. I am not interested in climbing over or through that, so I turn and head south on smaller streets. Most of the alleyways are filled with razorvine, but the plant has not fully covered the larger streets yet.
After a few blocks, I turn west again, and I find a mass of vines blocking the center of this street. It is one of the bigger ones again, and per Polt’s instructions, I want to head west until I hit the largest north/south avenue before trying to go south.
I can see that there is clear road behind this mass of vines, so I open up the flamethrower on it. As I have become used to, the vines hiss and twist as the flames cut through them, leaving only fine metallic filaments behind. These I can easily push through.
I repeat this process and begin pushing through the mass of vines in the street. When I pull a nest of metallic filaments apart, however, something new happens. A bloated, distorted body falls on top of me. I push it away, holding back a scream and bringing the flamethrower around to bear on the body, but it just lies on the pavement.
1d100 Fear Save: 12 vs 39, success
I flip it over with my foot to see the swollen face of a trad, probably one of Tanner’s Rippers, hopefully not one of the ones, Lux and Finn, I’ve been sent to find. I search their pockets, but there is nothing useful. There is another canister of fuel for my flamethrower hanging on their back, so I snag that and continue on through the torched razorvine and down the street.
1d10 Turn #2 Countdown Event: 4
I make it to the main north/south street and turn left. This is a broad avenue, with ample space between the razorvine-covered buildings on either side. I take the center of the road and increase my pace, keeping my eyes on the dark streets and doorways to either side. The dead city is all but silent; the sound of my footsteps is painful to listen to.
I figure this is as good a time as any to check in with Carl. He is out of range of my neurolink, so I use the communications system built into my terrasuit.
“Carl, you there? Any luck with finding the Rippers’ ship?” I ask after activating the uplink.
Carl’s voice crackles from the speaker in my collar. “Hello Co…I’m still swee…I did find a ca…I….”
“Perfect,” I grumble (there I go again grumbling). Just when I actually want to hear Carl’s voice, my uplink dies. I’ll need to fix it next time I’m on the ship. Or maybe just get a new terrasuit the next time we make port. This one has seen a few cycles already.
I switch to the neurolink to try again.
“Carl, my terrasuit’s comms are down. Can you hear me? Did you find anything?”
Carl doesn’t reply.
“Not yet then,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t be too long, Carl,” I continue, my eyes scouring the sky above. “I’m feeling worse and worse about this one.”
1d10 Turn #3 Countdown Event: 9
I can see it growing on the horizon. The monstrous building that Polt called “The Beak.” That’s where I am headed, into the heart of this strange plant life’s source. That’s where Lux and Finn were headed too, trying to find some sort of information to help the Rippers turn the tide in their fight against the Vine.
Honestly, it seems like a weird thing to be looking for. It’s just a plant, right? It doesn’t have a secret weakness or strategy that you can exploit.
Well, regardless, if I want a shot at getting aboard that colony ship, I need to find these two lost Rippers. Even if Tanner doesn’t have the expertise to fix it, I probably could get something worthwhile out of it. That’s a big ship; it’s probably got a big jump drive. Those are easy to sell.
A sudden explosion jolts me from my reverie. I barely have time to cover my face before I am showered with shattered glass and concrete. I look up as four trads emerge from a gaping hole in a nearby building. Two carry flamethrowers, safely identifying them as more Rippers. The other two are pushing a cart stacked with metal boxes.
One of the flamethrower-wielding ones sees me where I stand about 50 meters away. They start to raise their weapon, but then they notice that I am carrying the same gear, and they relax.
“Hey!” they call out, drawing the attention of the other three to me. “What are you doing here? I thought Tanner wanted everyone back at the base. He said something about last call.”
My mind starts racing. Last call? I didn’t hear him say those words. Was this before or after I showed up? Will these Rippers realize I’m an outsider?
1d50 CSSS: 48 yes
“I’m the last one in,” I say, telling the truth, but trying not to give anything away. “One last look around for Lux and Finn. Then it’s last call.” I continue walking toward The Beak, my face turned in an attempt to hide that I am a stranger to them.
The one that called out to me narrows his eyes. He definitely knows I’m not a Ripper.
“Well, okay then,” he says. His flamethrower isn’t pointed at me, but it is definitely still in his hands. “Don’t be too long, I guess.” He nods for the other Rippers to start pushing their cart up the street away from The Beak. We pass within a few meters of each other, but not another word is spoken.
“Last call,” I mutter once they are out of sight. “Either I really am the last one in, or Tanner has other plans.”
I don’t have long to consider this possibility, as I shortly arrive at The Beak.
The Beak
1d50 CSSS: 43 computer terminal/system/access
I’m not sure why they call it The Beak, but they were right about it being huge. The best I can reckon is it’s over a mile wide, and who knows how long or deep it might go. I enter through an archway and see the ground sloping down into a cone a quarter-mile across. At the center, rising from the bottom of the cone to the ceiling high above me, is a huge mass of razorvine.
The vines grow down from the ceiling and twist around what looks like a miniature star. I’ve heard of power sources like this, but I’ve never seen one. Banks of computers encircle the base of this tower at the center of the cone, probably the control panels for the power distribution system. I will say that it is strange that the architects of this place put the power source right in the foyer, but maybe they didn’t have much experience with terrorism or acts of industrial sabotage.
In any event, it looks like someone has been messing with these computers. While there are plenty of meters and monitors, the actual interfaces have been removed. I shrug; with the way the rest of this place looks, I can’t be surprised that the machines are in disrepair.
1d10 Countdown Event: 6
As I finish inspecting the computers, movement from above catches my attention. I look up to see half a dozen…I don’t even know. Pods? Flowers? Part of the razorvine for sure, but new to me. And moving. With purpose. Toward me. I don’t like it.
+1 Limit for weird scary things = 3 Limit
I let loose with the flamethrower as I step back the way I came.
1d100 Violence: 99 vs 35, Critical Fail
+1 Limit = 4 Limit
1d10 Limit Check (Break Down): 8 vs 4, success
You had one job, flamethrower. ONE JOB. Throw the flame. Preferably at these demon flowers shuffling toward me across the razorvine. But no, you had to go and blow up, didn’t you? Piece of junk.
Some part of the pressurized accelerant system in the flamethrower ruptures when I pull the trigger, so instead of burning those pod/flower/things, I feel the scorching embrace of the flames engulf me.
+1 Wound (1/3)
1d10 Wound: 6 Sliced Open
That rupture not only covered me in flames, but it also turned the flamethrower into a fragmentation grenade. Shards of the housing slashed across my right flank, arm, armpit, thigh, and and face. Corsa chiffonade.
I stumble, and the lead flower thing lashes out at me with a long tendril/arm type of thing while its main body starts opening to — I’m guessing — receive me.
1d100 Body Save: 00 vs 20
I’m too hot to handle. I could have told you that already. But mister demon flower had to learn for himself. That tendril goes to grab me, but the flaming remnants of my terrasuit are enough for it to not only stop its attack, but also to make it retreat up the column a few feet.
I take the opening while I have it. I sprint up the incline toward the exit.
The exit is gone.
The archway through which I entered this massive entryway/reception hall/reactor room has closed like a…mouth. Maybe that’s why it’s called The Beak. I’m about to start grumbling when I realize that those flowers are still coming, their roots separating from the razorvine of the central column and carrying them toward me.
My eyes scour the outer rim of the cone. There’s gotta be another way out. In fact, there are multiple. I see some vents covered in razorvine spores. I see a circular tunnel that I can only describe as intestinal. And I see a dark hallway. There’s my winner. I take the long way around the column — these plants aren’t very fast — and sprint down the dark hallway toward whatever comes next.
Research Corridors
I’m done with this planet. It can keep its vines and its ruined colony ship. “Hey, Carl, can you hear me?”
1d50 CSSS: 34 yes, but...
“Actually, yes, I can,” he replies into my left “ear.”
“Thank the gods,” I mutter. I never thought I’d be happy to hear his voice.
To Carl, I think, “Amazing. Can you get me out of here? I’m in some sort of megastructure to the south of the city. I’m very tired of this planet.”
After a moment, Carl replies, “I have found the structure, and I can read your location, but I need you to find a way either onto the roof or back toward the city. I don’t see a way for me to land inside the structure.”
I sigh. “Yeah, that makes sense,” I think. “I’ll try to find a way up. I’m already in a bit of a tight spot.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” Carl says, and then I can feel that he has disconnected from the neurolink.
The dark hallway has turned into a flight of stairs. The floor is softer than I am really comfortable with, but it’s better than the last room with those flower pods. At the top of the stairs, I find a long hallway, off of which branch several other hallways, each lined with doors. Most of the doors and hallways are blocked in some way by razorvine, and without a flamethrower, I can’t do much but choose the path of least resistance.
This path leads me to the center of this area, where a large door has been torn off its hinges by the razor vines. Through the gaping doorway, I can see artificial light.
And I can hear someone talking.
And…are they shuffling cards?
Thanks for reading!
I think this next scene will be a fair bit of dialogue, so I’m going to take a break here. Thanks for following along! I hope you’ve been enjoying Corsa’s adventure and this sampling of the 5 Million Worlds system.
—MAH