Editing Major Tom

{{Skub}}
[[Category:stories]]
[[Category:Awesome]]

[[Image:Major_Tom.png|thumb|right|250px|Major Tom giving Dungeons and Dragons Charly a piggyback ride]]

'''Major Tom''' is the hot new sensation storming [[/tg/]]. Basically, Major Tom (his Self given nickname from repeated listenings of David Bowie's [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYMCLz5PQVwo "Space Oddity"]), originally an otherwise unnamed astronaut (or cosmonaut? Sometimes you just can't tell), is turned into an unkillable, immortal (and ever-so-slightly batshit insane) space skeleton... and then lands in a [[Dungeons & Dragons]] campaign.

What is meant by unkillable is that if he is destroyed or shattered, '''Major Tom''' regenerates back into his original form by fusing all of his bony pieces back together. When regenerating, Tom makes an eerie rattling noise.

'''Major Tom''' is constantly plagued (or blessed, if that's what you're in to) by "Top of the 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's" songs played through his communications systems. He possesses little to no control over what plays.

'''Major Tom''' is armed with a "Space Mace" made from pieces of his ship cold welded together along with a jet-pack 'Made of Screams and powered by the life force of all those who have died in space', he also has a wishing star embedded in his skull that he uses to give little girls ice-cream and toys.

During his various travels, Major Tom constantly updates "Ground Control" on his mission status. Whether or not he is actually communicating with a "Ground Control" remains to be seen.

Back on earth he was a Russian Cosmonaut with his wife and adopted daughter called Charly, He carried around a locket with a picture of the two of them at all times, and he had it with him when the incident happened that set him adrift in space. Since then, Tom has been drifting for 326 years. Which is plenty of time for his sanity to go out the window.

"STARS. SO MANY FUCKING STARS. TOO MANY STARS. ALL I CAN SEE ARE FUCKING STARS. FUCK."

It was later confirmed that the campaign Major Tom was in fell apart after only two sessions. Whether or not there will be more adventures with Major Tom remains to be seen.

[[Image:Majortom_cleanup_nocolor.png|thumb|left|280px|Pencil drawing of Major Tom giving a piggyback ride to a peasant girl]]



*First thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/31236570/
*Second thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/31246243/
*Third thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/31282599/


== '''Anons recount of the game Major Tom was created for:''' ==

It's time, /tg/. The first play session of Major Tom has just concluded, and do I have a story for you.

Bump the thread for a bit as I type it out, because it is a lengthy tale.

If any of you are fans of Major Tom, make sure to stick around and this story is a doozy.
Firstly though party make-up.

Player 1: Tiefling Cleric. Calm, cool, collected type. He uses an Ouija board as his holy symbol and worships the Raven Queen.
Player 2: Human Paladin, walks the path of JUSTICE and SMITING. He carries around a tall shield with a sword, and hates the undead But I still think he's a pretty cool guy.
Player 3: Elven Ranger. The Hunter/forager of the party. She has an interest in the mystical side of everything. she looks so familiar...
And then there's me.

Now, sitting down at the table, the other players have no idea what my character is or anything. They are sitting around the table, patiently introducing their characters.

Then it gets to my turn and I use KNOWING GLANCE on my DM. He nods, and the party looks puzzled, but we continue. I have my iPad at the ready, with a selection of musical hits at my disposal.

So, the party starts without me, going about the usual methods a DM would use to explain a party forming from mostly strangers. (The Elf and the Tiefling had travelled together for a few months prior to the game's start.)

They seem even more confused when my character has no introduction, and is seemingly not present at all.

The DM leads them on an adventure to stop an Elven Warlord who has been amassing forces in an attempt to overthrow the local governing hand and insert himself as the new bigwig of the area.
The party makes a few investigative checks, and eventually is led to an abandoned storehouse that used to be used for arms and ammunition, that had been cleaned out and transported elsewhere.

Well, apparently, this Warlord thought it was a good idea to set up shop here, and move all of his weapons, explosives, and men into this storehouse as a sort of Mother Base of his own.

The party sets up a plan to raid it, waiting until nightfall.

The elf ranger reports that she sees him walking about outside with a few of his men, sort of taking inventory, it seems.

>I hit play.

Then they hear it.

Metallica's "Ride the Lightning" begins to fill the air, although the characters have no fucking clue what it is. The players and DM begin to lose composure a bit.

"Look, in the sky!" shouts the Paladin. "Be it hellfire?"

Streaks of fire and rock appear in the night sky, and the sound of a madman screaming lasso permeates the air.

>There is someone else controlling me

I scream from the meteor I am clinging to.

>Death in the air.

I spot the mercenary king, and just scream at him from up on high.

>Strapped in the electric chair.
>This can't be happening to me.

I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY TO BE HEADING TO TERRA FIRMA ONCE MORE

The warlord is staring in fear, and the party member is waiting with bated breath.

>Who made you God to say.
>"I'll take your life from you!"

And then... Impact.
I explode onto the ground, detonating what used to be an elven warlord.

The party freaks, standing up and charging the scene. They go running down the hills, as mercenaries come out of the storehouse.

>next song starts.
>Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time.
>I feel ali-i-i-ive and the world it's turning inside out.
>Yeah.
>I'm floatin' around in ecstasy so.
>Don't stop me now.
>Don't stop me.
>Cuz I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time.

This whole time, I am emerging from my crater, and swinging my MACE OF SPACE like a goddamn madman, taking out hordes of the mercs as the party make their way down to the fight.

>I'm a shooting star leaping through the skies
>Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity

Bodies everywhere, and the rest of the guys finally get there and we start fighting off the mercenaries.

As the dust settles, the party stares at me, not sure of what to think of the man who fell from the sky.
I ignore them completely, and talk to a small radio unit on my helmet.

"GROUND CONTROL, MAJOR TOM. I have made contact. It has been so long, Ground Control. 326 years by my calculations. 326 FUCKIN' YEARS FLOATING IN THAT BLACK DEATH WE CALL THE FINAL FRONTIER, HAHAHA. Now attempting contact with local inhabitants."

At this point, I approach the party and am immediately SMITED by the Paladin, who is a hit first ask questions later kind of guy.

The sword cleaves through my being and shatters everything that I am, and the players have no idea what to do. And then, I begin to RATTLERATTLE reform.

"WHAT MANNER OF VILE UNDEATH ARE YOU?” Cries the bitch ass paladin. I reform my skull last, and then I look him in the eyes and hit a switch on my control panel.

NOW THIS IS A STORY ALL ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT FLIPPED, TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
The DM then does me the favour of catching the party up to speed.

Fast forward a bit.
We walk throughout the wilderness for a while, with my helmet constantly blaring the hits of the 70s and 80s, much to the confusion of the party.

I am constantly updating "Ground Control" with whatever I am currently doing/experiencing. We make our way to the city, and the sun is rising. People have begun to emerge from their homes, and in order to not incite mass panic, the Tiefling looks to me and says "I know not what sort of creature you are, and the Raven Queen has no guidance for me.
So that being said, I have determined you are neither good nor evil, but rather an in-between. As such, I will grant you the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. However, we must hide your visage so as not to frighten the population here."

I look at him, and wait a moment before sliding my reflective visor down and begin to walk backwards, moonwalk style.

"THIS USED TO BE THE GREATEST DANCE EVER, YA KNOW", I exclaim.

And we make our way through the gates.
The party is confused, but goes on.

>MAKING OUR WAY DOWNTOWN, FACES PASS AND I'M HOMEBOUND.

The ranger approaches me and asks if. I may turn the sounds off. Puzzled, I agree, and upon doing so scream "SURE THING, I HATE THAT FUCKING SONG ANYWAYS. WHITE BITCHES, RIGHT?"

"GROUND CONTROL, MAJOR T-" I stop mid-sentence.

All belligerence leaves my character as I stare forward.

The party moves on without me for a few yards before realizing. I have stopped. They turn to retrieve me, and the paladin asks "What is it? Have you found a soul to steal, vermin?"

I begin to walk.

"Creature! I speak to you!"

I ignore him.

He realizes I'm walking towards a small child by herself, who is playing with some rocks.

"VILLAIN", he cries, "STOP YOUR COURSE!"

I ignore him.

He charges me, assuming my ill intent towards this child, and he grabs my arm. I continue forward, leaning as far as I can. He is pulling with all of his might, and I reach into a pouch.

"ALLIES, AID ME!" He yells out, but they ignore him, wanting to see what transpires.

And then I remove a small package from my pocket, and reach out towards the girl.

"HEY, KIDDO." I say.

She turns to look, and she eyes us up and down before spotting the package. She ask if it is for her, which I tell her "YES IT IS. I HAVE BEEN SAVING THIS FOR A LONG TIME CHARLY."

The paladin lets go, not sure what to think.

The small girl opens the pouch, and eats the brightly coloured treat. I kneel beside her and watch, talking to her for a long time about my journey and how I have missed her.
The Ranger looks at the odd filmy paper she has lifted from my pockets and sees the image from the last post.

"Is that his daughter?" Asks the cleric of the elf.
"I don't believe so", she replies, "however I don't think he knows that..."

And the party watches on as this stranded space man talks to this small child and gives her treats. He offers to give her a piggyback ride, which she accepts, and for a moment, the Major is happy again.

The party agrees to allow me to carry on, as they simultaneously realize they did not order these feels.

Fast forwarding a bit, the child leaves the Major to return home, confused by the whole thing but she doesn't really mind. The Major appears to be content, for he is quiet, except for the low sounds of David Bowie's Space Oddity.

The party has agreed to head out and clear out a vampire cave, and recovered me, and we are now heading out.

I begin to realize that the elf appears to be somewhat familiar.

And this is where the story ends, /tg/. I know, I know, not very combat heavy, but we were short on time for today's game.


== '''Some Write Faggotry by a random anon:''' ==

Runa Dawnsmith remembered having grown up in the Holy Church of Vancia's Home for War Orphans alongside many other children whose parents had been claimed by the Confederacy of Necromancers, where a profound hatred for the undead and the black hearted villains who raised them had been instilled in her from a young age. She reminisced that it was that very same hatred that had guided her path to become a Paladin-Justicar of the Church. She recalled that this hatred that had allowed her to smite more abominations and their masters than she could count. She milled over the fact that this same hatred that would have urged her to strike down anyone blasphemous enough to suggest that she might one day willingly share company with the undead.

"Funny how things can change..."

Runa Dawnsmith mused aloud to no one in particular. Hefting the load of firewood in her arms, the Paladin-Justicar looked at her companion and hitched her head to the side, indicating it was time to return to camp. The skeleton in the bizarre cloth, glass and metal "armour" bobbed his head in understanding, light glinting off the smite-dent she had put in his helmet on the day they'd met. Bearing a load of wood in his own arms, Major Tom began shuffling backwards back the way they'd come, performed a dance move he had once referred to as the "Moon Walk" to whatever outlandish music he was currently listening to.

"Can you turn that up Tom? I think I recognize this one."

Runs Dawnsmith said, following the skeleton's lead.


Unlike that holy-than-thou Runa, the reason that Yohn's dislike of "Major Tom" wasn't based on religion, ideology, or creepiness. It wasn't even based on the fact that the few small nuts of silvery metal or hunks of rough, porous rock he'd managed to "liberate" from the pockets in the skeleton's armor turned out to be worthless when he'd brought them to his fence. No, Yohn's real objection to traveling with the white-clad undead was the fact that he was so damned unpredictable.

When your profession can be best described as "dick-ass thief” you have to be able to rely on your targets and allies acting predictably. You have to trust that your mark will be so caught up with their daily routine that they'll neither feel nor suspect you cutting their purse strings, and you have to trust that your compatriots will be NOT bring the attention of every Paladin in town down around your ears by bounding undisguised across the market place shouting at the top of the lungs he DOESNT have how glad he is to see people again after his long trip through the cosmos!

"No, Major Tom's special kind of madness is most definitely cramping my game."

Yohn thought as he tried for the seventh time to disarm the wall trap currently impeding the group's progress. Wiping his brow, the man calmly stowed his tools before standing up and motioning for their skeletal comrade to join him by the trigger mechanism. 

"At least he's good for something..."
Yohn thought.


If there was anything more profound than Runa's former hatred for their newest companion and more persistent than Yohn's annoyance with the Major, it was the sense of terror the undead starfarer instilled in Lisbet. Although the Holy Church of Vancia's doctrine held that the undead should not be pitied, and even though the adolescent priestess herself had conducted sermons on how one must always be brave in such trying times, discussing religious theory in the cathedral library or preaching in the park for extra credit at the seminary were VERY different than coming face to face with an actual abomination, in the flesh or lack thereof.

Even though the others in her little troupe had eventually come to be comfortable around Major Tom, Lisbet remained fearful and alert, neither able to look directly at the creature nor take her eyes off him lest he do something horrible. Of course, it didn't help how he always seemed to vanish around midnight, and how lately she'd caught the strangely armored skeleton sneaking closer to her, or reaching toward her as if to grab her! He'd even very nearly gotten Lisbet to break her symbol of the Holy Light with how tight she'd been gripping it!

This night especially, the young holy woman couldn't sleep for fear that the undead in the strange white shrouds would come to end her life, but found also that she could no longer continue living in such fear of their most unusual guest. Making the hardest decision if her life, Lisbet donned her vestments, still dusty from the day's travels, and grasped close her holy symbol and prayer book, leaving her tent to confront her foe.

It hadn't taken a lot of searching before Lisbet found the Major, being able to hear the strange, unholy music he played at all hours, and the young priestess was surprised and terrified at the thought that he would conduct his unholy and nefarious nightly ritual so close to the camp they all shared. Crouched low in the undergrowth in a rather unclerical act of subterfuge, she was hidden from view as the undead turned to face her direction, moon and stars reflected in the strange glass visor of his helmet, the cool light illuminating the white skull within. There was a squelch of static, and then quiet as the music ceased, a soft, empty, expectant noise issuing from inside the helmet before the skeleton began to speak in a tone of voice far wearier than Lisbet had heard him use before.

"This Major Tom to Ground Control... Or... Houston... Or Moscow... Or anyone receiving this broadcast, over."

The undead paused and looked up at the night sky, as if waiting for some sort of reply coming from that direction.

"What follows is the situation report for April the 3rd, Year 2642, Earth Reckoning. Or at least, it's April the 3rd,
Year 2642 by My Reckoning. HA HA HA!"

The skeleton's raucous laugh came so unexpectedly that Lisbet nearly shrieked and leapt from her hiding spot, but Tom didn't seem to notice.

"Weather conditions have been nominal, as I understand them, for this time of the year in this part of this particular planet. The road has been level and the ifher members if my exploratory team have been amiable and in good spirits. I met a raccoon while setting up camp this evening. Poked that raccoon for Science. Had to fight off that raccoon. You'll receive a full report once I return."

The undead once more grew silent, as if giving his unseen audience time to voice their approval oracle thereof to his methodology.

"Our team's chaplain doesn't seem to care for me. Shrinks away. Haven't the slightest notion why. She reminds me of... Well... Someone I'd much rather be talking to rift now than you, Ground Control, no offense!"

Again the strangely suited figure laughed, seeming to scan the sky from horizon to horizon as he gave "Ground Control" time to think of an adequate response.

"They're nearly the same height. Look pretty similar too, if you exchanged their hair colours. I tried to give the chaplain a horsey ride, but she clearly wasn't having with it. Anyway, not sure why you'd send along a kid on an exploratory mission like this, but she seems to know her stuff. I just know I wouldn't send my daughter out into deep space is all..."

By this time, Lisbet found herself feeling not just foolish for her earlier fear, but almost ashamed if her treatment of the thing, the man, when her companions had seen the truth much sooner. Moving as silently as she could, the young priestess left the space man to finish his report, feeling that the journey together might be much better come tomorrow. As she crept away through the underbrush, she heard the skeleton say,

"I guess that concludes my report. I might also note that the stars are particularly beautiful tonight, but FUCK the stars. Seriously. FUCK 'EM."


"You can't honestly believe it."

Yohn asked idly, turning a rather fine antique vase around in his hands, the avarice in his gaze tamped down but still present in the smirk on his lips.

"That the Major really is what he claims. Some sort of "sailor of the cosmos" come to Vancia from beyond the stars. I'm a good liar, but even I couldn't get away with a story that absurd."

Runa Dawnsmith turned to her shopping companion and carefully removed the vase from his grasp with her own gauntleted hands, made a small noise of warning as she did so. Normally Runa had little trouble bringing Yohn to heel, especially with Lisbet's disapproving pout brought to bear against the rapscallion's fractitious, self-serving personality. Today, however, the young priestess' good influence was needed to keep Major Tom on his best behavior while in town, leaving the Paladin-Justicar and the Dick-Ass Thief paired up to purchase their supplies.

"He rode a shooting star down from the sky. He left a crater in the field where we found him. I know I was skeptical at first too, but what more proof do you need?"

The bell on the general store's door rang, indicating the presence of a new customer, which temporarily brought the conversation to a stop. Not seeming all too upset about having his prize taken away, Yohn moved on to the next trinket that caught his eye, leaving Runa be to finish gathering their necessary supplies. 

"I suppose such a feat would be hard to fake."

The thief admitted once the interloper, a spell-slinger by his robes arcane paraphernalia, had moved out if earshot, his attention turned now toward a bejeweled candlestick, looking it up and down in such a way as if he were estimating how conspicuous it would look secreted beneath his surcoat.

"Even were he skilled in the arcane arts. Which he most definitely is not."

Only half listening, the Paladin-Justicar's looked back at the coil of thick rope that had caught her attention, remembering how Tom sometimes insisted that they all be tethered together in case of emergencies. Nodding to herself, Runa slung the hefty rope across one armored shoulder before throwing another glance Yohn's way, inwardly relieved to see that the candlestick was still there and that her companion had moved along to the merchant's counter where the bulk if their supplies waited to be haggled over.
"True enough."

The Paladin-Justicar grunted, crouching to pick up the basket of sundry items she'd intended on purchasing before trucking it and the heavy rope over to the counter where the 'slinger seemed to be in a heated argument with the shop's owner.

"And besides all that. When have you ever seen anything like the armor he we-"

Runa muttered, moving in close beside Yohn just in time for the man to elbow her armored side hard enough to silence her and no doubt give himself quite a bruise. The thief looked over to the Paladin-Justicar, and with deadly serious intent motioned, discreetly, with his head to the spell-slinger currently shouting at the shopkeeper. Or, more accurately, what the spell-slinger was trying to find more information about:

A fragment of white and grey, riveted metal, bearing upon it a red glyph on a blue circle spangled with stars, surmounted by a white ellipse and the letters NASA.


[[Category:Dungeons & Dragons]]