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Gallant Role-Playing System by Rafellin Gallant Role-Playing System by Rafellin

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Gallant Role-Playing System by Rafellin

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/ ©2014-2018 Rafellin
#freerpg #roleplayingsystem #roleplayinggame #rpg #julianmmiles
In addition to twelve years playtesting, there are four years 'in the wild' behind this 2-page comprehensive role-playing system.

It works, works well and it is past time to let it out.

I originally created it as a method to do one-nighters when one of the group couldn't make it. It went from there to be the most versatile system I could make it, with the able assistance of my gaming group - who, at peak, brought over 100 years RPG experience to the table between them.

It's free. The download option should deliver you the 2-page PDF. If it doesn't, message me and I'll get it sorted.
:iconsimonjm:
SimonJM Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2014
It's a fun little system whose usefulness and utility cannot be measured by it's size! :)
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:iconrafellin: More from Rafellin

Silo OneThe cooling towers hum less at night, as the temperature drops in the world above. ‘The World Above’. Oh, how our leaders love that title. They use it everywhere, usually presented in ways that used to be reserved for heaven and similar post-death nirvanas.
“Tea?” Susan nudges my arm.
I look down to see a cup of chestnut-coloured brew. I take it, forcing a smile. Susan has adapted better than I. It would be petty to spoil the moment in a fit of pique.
The world was going to hell with fanatics of every stripe hacking at each other while good people were left to shore up the burgeoning masses with steadily increasing taxes. Even corporations stepped in to help governments cope as the global population exceeded all resources.
In better times, the outbreak between North Korea and America would have been limited. However, when Chinese intervention forces rolled into Pyongyang, little Kim let rip with everything he had at every country he feared. He had a lot more tha
SaveWe’d been down for a long while before Commander Bramson came up with the idea of linking to the orbiter, getting it to swing into low orbit and tractor beam us off this damn rock. I objected on the grounds that humans can’t extract oxygen from vacuum; the orbiter couldn’t enter atmosphere thick enough to breathe.
“Sure, the ship’s beat up, kid. But the crew section is solid.”
“How the hell can anyone verify that? Our diagnostics and scanners were mangled when the control module got flattened!”
“That’s not the attitude we need. You go ‘bout your duties and leave the serious stuff to us.”
As I leave, Kristin grabs my arm and drags me behind a cargo pod.
“Will you stop kicking off at him? He’s not going to listen, even if you’re right. Always has to be his idea. You know that.”
I know that. But, Bramson’s last ‘bright’ idea planted us in a cliff face that collapsed on us afte
Eavesdropping on the APC “Dave?”
 “What?”
 “I know they’re built on the same chassis, but why do I get the feeling that fastmutt is just sauntering along at the LEK9s strike pace?”
 “Because it is. Military mutts have to be quicker than police models as the stuff being thrown at ‘em is usually coming quicker than beer cans or furniture. If it was authorised, it could get to the target and back, and still be pacing our LEK9s as they arrived.”
 “This is overkill. Have you deployed matching units on all six routes in?”
 “Damn right I have. Given what that bastard could have protecting his hideout, I’d rather go in ready beyond heavy than see if my regular cruiser can absorb an RPG.”
 “Partially proving my point. You requisitioned heavy assault platforms!”
 “They see them and realise they’re more likely to die today than gain reputation from surviving a firefigh
Vegetable ProcessHave you ever grown your own computer? It’s not like they show on MeVee. There’s a lot more liquid blend used because spillages occur all the time. The damn things sweat out unused elements constantly, overflowing the moulds. On a hot night, it can even overflow the trays you stand the moulds in. And that image of the girl in her skimpies leaping lithely across the room to get cloths to mop a spill? Utter tosh. Any leakage puts a near-frictionless layer between skin and any surface. You crawl to the towels with your hands and knees wrapped in stray clothing. If clothes are out of reach, duvet or sheets will do.
Very important: you’d better be using nanomachine-enhanced detergent or you’ll fuse the dryer and your element-soaked laundry into a whorled sculpture. Great conversation piece at parties, but it isn’t covered by your home insurance.
For pity’s sake don’t use the ‘quicksilver fastwiring’ hack. It does work, but, mercury is po
Sweet RocksThe stars appear like fireflies seen through vintage sunglasses, the ones that used to give everything a mellow brown hue. My grandfather had some, an inheritance from his grandfather. Guess they’re buried somewhere in the dust of Earth One.
Mellow. Now, there’s a definition for this moment. Sitting here, heels on the console, chilled vodka tube in hand, seat reclined all the way back, headrest cradling my head with the infinitesimal pressure granted by a pocket repulsor field. Mellow, indeed. More correctly, I’m mellow. It’s a feeling, after all. Despite all the advances in technology, we haven’t bridged the machine-emotion chasm yet.
Just like we haven’t bridged the gap between what Earths Two thru Seven provide and the stuff that could only be found on Earth One. We knew it was dying, but somehow, with our never-quite-accepting view of extinction events, we let it slide without conserving the bits we’d miss.
“Incoming!”
I jolt fu
Brakes, Scars and Other Things I MissFunny how the roar of wind fades into the background after a while.
I loved the wind roar in my rag-top coupe. Drove that antique everywhere, pretty much spent my late teens in it, met the love of my life while driving it, and waved her goodbye from it, too. Which was fitting, as its weak brakes scared her. As trivial irritations do, the fright led to arguments that revealed bigger things; things the passion we shared couldn’t overcome.
A rogue booster rocket cuts a jagged turquoise line across the violet sky.
Ah, war wounds. The scars that proved you had been at the sharp end, and on the receiving end of it, too. NanoHeal sorted that out. Bonded to your DNA profile, it restored you to how you should be. Which was great, except for the first time. While sorting your wounds, it dealt with all the other stuff: tattoos, piercings, and every other blemish, inside or out. I can’t even get a tan. We asked if it could be programmed to exclude trophy marks like they programmed it t
BaitI land with a crunch that tells me the remaining organic ribs in my left side need replacing.
“I bet that hurt, Shields.”
Fast footsteps betray his next move. I brace, left arm tight. Sure enough, Manny lands a running kick that would have driven shards of those ribs into my lung.
“I bet that hurt, Shields.”
Manny does the silent and deadly thing, all dressed up in custom leathers. No-one had the guts to tell him he only looks sullen and silly before tonight. He’s taking it badly.
At the top of the enhanced human food chain is the bioengineered soldier. Of course, down on the streets, there are many who want that sort of power. Without the inconveniences of dedication, training, and a lifetime commitment.
A fast grab-and-throw: I take the short flight back across the street.
“I bet that hurt, Shields.”
The reason why Manny sounds like his audio’s stuck is a side effect of Doctor Clifford Lomax’s answer to a poor person’s bio-e
The Last Daughter “Is someone meeting you, young lady?”
 Lilly looks up, schooling her look of annoyance into wide-eyed honesty: “Why yes, mister guardsman. I only have to fare to the crossroads down from the station.”
 He pauses, decides this lavender-clad genteel waif is scion of some quirky outland nobility, nods politely, and moves to the next compartment.
 She pouts. That’s the problem with having an Anywhere Cannon. Getting places is simplicity itself, bar a little straightening of attire after landing. Getting back means she has to rough it with the ‘breakables’, as her mother called them. People. What daft things they are. Give her flitting bats and silence, rather than the incessant yammering that infests the haunts of man.
 The train pulls in and, as usual, she’s the only one getting off at Cobb Holt. She waves to the guardsman and then watches him watching her until the train goes round the bend and out of sight.
 
Fire in the NightGetting used to sleeping while your body moves is the hardest thing about exoskeletal operations. Right now, I’m tail-end Charlie in a forty-man column accompanying a trio of Big Dogs lugging the payloads for tonight’s test. Above us, a pair of Nighthawk drones sweep from flank to flank. From higher overhead, a Condor watch drone has our perimeter locked down tight.
We’re running two-and-one awakes with the remaining thirty-seven sleeping. The early all-sleeper tactics were subject to path manipulation techniques that fooled our flock behaviour guidance routines. The worst case was a pair of twenty-man teams jogging for hours into a moonless Sahara night, taking their drone support and any chance of a victory with ‘em.
“You asleep back there?”
Point Alpha, Captain Zim.
“No ma’am. Just enjoying the ride.”
There’s a guttural laugh from Sergeant Khal: Point Beta.
“Good enough, Pimsloff. Rotate in ten.”
Point and tail
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November 6, 2014
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