(Star Wars d6) #25 - Tournament

 Our "Heroes"

Ne'vets Aharo - an exotic animal broker, both legal and otherwise.  Teaming up with ally and friendly rival Abel Norrum for some exploration of the planet Alacazaar.

Evus - Twi'lek former mercenary, Ne'vets' armed muscle with a keen eye and a tendency to shoot first.

Tarrie - Human pilot "under contract" for the upcoming mission, whatever that is.  Brother of potential terrorist, rebel  Latorna Savvn.

Frokazza - Wookie co-pilot, mechanic, and unarmed muscle. Very distrustful.

Enough With the Flashbacks!

Stories told and drinks consumed, 

It was assumed the big game hunter, 

Abel Norrum, and his crew would be leaving the

Pleasure Planet of Zeltros.

Fate has intervened for a few days, as Norrum 

has discovered a military game

For the idle (or recently) rich, 

And has convinced Ne'vet Aharo and the Wookie Frokazza 

To partake in this odd display of bloodlust...

After exchanging stories of Remember When, both Ne'vets and Abel went to bed.  

The following afternoon, Ne'vets was an early arrival at their usual late brunch.  He was hoping to catch Abel and his crew checking out of the resort, before they left for parts unknown.  

Abel arrived alone, and appeared agitated.  No, agitated was the wrong (and expected) word.  He was... excited.

He ran up to Ne'vets, "Ne'vets.... Do you do other types of competition for money, other than gambling?"

Ne'vets was a bit perplexed, "Umm.... what are we talking about?"

"I know you killed a man... at least once.  Have you ever sent men to their deaths, and earned credits for it."

"I'm going to need details as to what you're getting at..."

"I was looking for a bathroom in this forsaken wasteland, and fell upon some type of betting parlor.  Except it wasn't your typical spaceball or gladiator combat wagers.  They offer patrons of the resort a chance to command a company of men against another company.  You're quite remote and safe in a bunker of some sort, but you're men could perish with the wrong command."

"Which planet?"

"This planet,  the pleasure planet. Freakin' Zeltros, Ne'vets!    What do you think the idle rich do?"

"The best part is, we don't have to fight.  We just press buttons."

""I know we're all itching to get out of here.  Your space-rolodex is screaming for clueless corporate executives wanting  a new fuzzy-wuzzy or a terrifying reptile with wings, but for a 2,000 credit buy-in the winner gets 10,000.  And we don't have to do anything."  

"My moral compass is screaming, but I'm intrigued by the immense payoff."

Upon signing up, and convincing Frokazza to join him as well, the pair were led down to a sub-basement.  Each were led to a different door that opened up to a personal bunker with numerous control panels and monitors.  

The weight of sending men to their deaths was quickly lifted.  The unit assigned to Ne'vets, Reog's Raiders was an established military company armed to the teeth, with an armored personnel carrier in their inventory.  Except that their light armor and helmets were covered in sensors, and the strange devices were attached to to the barrels of their rifles.

"Kriff, it's blaster tag for the rich."

Apparently, there were different levels of this competition, and 2,000 credits only got you a small skirmish of Capture the Flag.  Much larger quantities netted you armored division and proxy missiles and air support!

Reog's Raiders seemed to be a professional group and took Ne'vets limited orders to heart.  They use the fewest men they needed and their APC and performed a daring raid on their opponents camp.  To many in complete shock, the assault took seconds to surprise the other group, and only a few more seconds to capture the flag.  Round One win.

Prepping for Round Two, there was a buzz at the door of the bunker.  He opened it to find a disgruntled Frokazza.  

For Frokazza, things were not as successful.  His unit was a group of slow, plodding Gamoreans going after a group of retired Imperial snipers.  Slow versus slow (and accurate) was not a wise match-up.  There match hit the time limit, and when secondary points were counted, the result was a tie... and a double disqualification. 

At least he could hang out in Ne'vets' bunker.

Rounds Two and Three went according to plan, Ne'vets making the minimum orders and letting his men do what's best for them.  Unlike the civilian generals, who only looked for the big prize, each win earned the mercenaries some credits, and more wins could get them into the bigger stakes "games" with even greater rewards.  

The final round was against a familiar face, Abel Norrum.  Abel used a classic "Horns of the Batha" attack with his primitive tribesmen.  It almost worked too, but for once, Ne'vets had his assault hold back.  They punched a hole in the assault and sped to capture a largely unguarded flag.  

The 10,000 credits were Ne'vets.  

"That's the last time I invite you to something I should be guaranteed to win!" Abel moaned.  

GM Notes: There's six month time jump for the campaign for the next episode, so it's a perfect opportunity to insert a side-campaign Actual Play, returning to the moon of Volturnus.

"Tournament" comes from Challenge #26 and offers a few ways to use the power and influence of the rich to develop play, both for the "gamification" of military tactics, and the development for characters who want to be mercs, or at least combat machines. 

I need to find some wargames that allow for online play/display, and use this to fill the time for some of those 2-player attending sessions.  

We also realized that Ne'vets winning, and being somewhat prudent with money, meant that some funds would be available for the quad-laser cannon turret they were adding to their ship, the Pretio.  They just had not realized it yet.

Next: The New Adventures of Bo'Non'as and Oopsa.