conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Grouch67: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/db/ff...66a72ee8ad.jpg 
  
  The year it all ended for us, 999.M41 and the start of the truth.  The truth about my people being deceived and coerced into worshiping a pile of rotting bones for centuries.  The truth about the Priests and Commissars knowing all along and still willing to kill in order to maintain the loyalty to those rotting bones.
  
  Days after the fall of the Empire, we cleansed ourselves from the festering bacteria known as the Ministorum and Commissars.  The priests of that mummy are gone now and the only officers still alive were the ones deemed worthy by the foot soldiers in their units.
  
  What follows in my Journal are the actual events of the 302nd Assault Force, Alpha Company, 3rd Platoon, 2nd Squad.  We were the pride of the Empire when it came to beating down yellow bellied impotent traitors.  I don't care about loyalty to that bag of puss, but those Chaos troops abandoned the very people they pledged to defend.  That is why we are here fighting on a filthy rock called Estabon, we fight them here to keep them away from our actual homes and families.
  
  Anyway, there are only 4 or 5 hundred of us left, we started at 3,500 strong and years of constant fighting have taken their toll on good people.  So, enough about me.  My name isn't important, those who are important will be in this journal and preserved for generations to come.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Grouch67: Date; 999.M241 (200 days after the fall of the Empire)
  Location; Estabon Prime
   https://photos.google.com/photo/AF1Q...oKZwzE7W5Mi4XI 
  
  We were up long before light, third squad was the designated 'tin can rangers' this morning.  We had to gather the mermite containers to pick up chow for the rest of the platoon.  Walking through the freezing dampness with the overwhelming sourness of rotten eggs never offered the troops any relief from the daily misery.  While most details are monotonous and eschewed by troops, tin can rangers were actually a boon for any squad.  First to get access to cigarettes, pogey bait, fresh fruit (well fresher than the rest), and you always had that one cook that snuck some contraband.  Then there was the best moment any combat soldier could have out in the field.
  
  Just one flash in time where the offensive odors and miserable conditions disappeared and all you could experience is the fragrance of fruits, jams, and hot coffee.  Holding our canteen cups filled with the hot java comforted our shivering hands and then the moment was over and reality set in.  Anyway, this journal belongs to the squad and not me.
  
  Mission; Deliver chow to the other three squads stuck in their miserable foxholes. (RP the scenes, this is to interact with the team, learn each other's personalities, and add background to your story.)