The Aristocracy C&C needed

[Fiery Ovaltine]

I've been a cheeky lurker on this forum for a while, trying to find a way to justify the time it would take to write an IA. After I saw a suggestion for a comedy chapter by 'Firepower' I thought I just had to go for it. Heres the basic nebulous idea anyway:

 

Name – The Aristocracy

Gene Seed - Roboute Guilliman

Founding – 26 (Cursed founding)

Chapter master: Lord Montgomery Limpwristley-Smithe the 3rd

Main Colours – black, white

Specialty – Long ranged combat in attack bikes

Numbers – Around 300 due to overly selective recruitment.

Battle cry – 'I say, vile xenos/heretic/deamon, would you mind awfully if I killed you? Theres a good chap, chin up, worse things happen in space and all.... (descends into an unintelligible murmur)'

 

 

The general idea so far is a chapter of posh, arrogant weaklings who recruit from the most upper echelons of a class dominated civilized world, out of pure snobbishness. (After all we can't have a bunch of plebs and oinks getting ideas above their station and gallivanting across the galaxy.)

 

Every Aristocracy marine is equiped with an attack bike and assigned a human serf (known as a caddy) to drive it. While the marine sits in the gunners seat shouting inane and contradictory directions and occasionally firing at the enemy.

Other popular ways to pass the time during battles include boring the caddy with old hunting stories and referring to them as Jeeves or Wilkins and out right refusing to remember their actual name.

 

The paint scheme I'm thinking about at the moment is black on the legs and arms, and white on the chest and head, to look slightly like they are all wearing suits.

 

The fortress monastery will be a dark cozy mansion, with roaring wood fires and comfortable marine-strength chairs, and plenty of serfs to act as self-cleaning foot stools. Also a never ending supply of spirits and cigars.

 

Their going to be from the cursed founding to explain their frailty, but I might drop the other defects or add more, so if you have any suggestions that would be great

 

Biscopea – Greatly reduced effectiveness. Which means my marines are known to use walking sticks and have their caddy carry a lot of their equipment. They have very low endurance and so rarely leave their bikes. Some evidence suggests that this is may actually be caused by the chapter's use of aristocrats as recruits, or simply an excuse not to do any undignified running.

 

Omophegea – can only learn by eating if tissue is fermented and distilled into a fine brandy, and then aged for several years in the marines personal wine cellar.

 

Lyman's ear – Prevents the marine from hearing anyone without good breading, apart from their assigned serf, who often has to relay information to the marine.

 

Some form of completely baseless delusion of shortness, causing them to wear the largest top hats that fashion will allow.

 

Extreme hair growth on the upper lip.

 

 

So what do you think based on this, worth a try or just bin it?

[elohimalpha]

Welcome to the board!

 

I think it's hilarious, and would make for some really interesting modeling opportunities. Good thing there's a lot of helmets with bionic eyes that can double as monocles too. What would the Chapter's emblem be? A teapot? Bag of money? Some gamepiece from Monopoly (scottie dog ftw!)

[The Normish]

Well, this seems like a funny idea, so I'll suggest the Chapter Badge. Upon a quick Google Images search, I found this:

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2451/3661262405_229abbfd43.jpg?v=0

 

Skulls are very GrimDark, and its wearing a top hat, a monocle, and has a mustache. What more could you want?

[Fiery Ovaltine]

Thanks Normsh, that's absolutely perfect.

[Firepower]

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2451/3661262405_229abbfd43.jpg?v=0

 

Win...plain and simple.

 

Some other things that might be fun:

 

Crusades are oft referred to as Safari's, and the likes of Orks and Nids "Big Game". On the same note, maybe try modelling 40k styled blunderbusses and elephant guns.

 

Multiple Inquisitorial reports of withdrawing from battle for something called "Tea Time"

 

"The sun never sets on the Imperium...not all of them anyway, that would be just silly chap!"

 

Servo skulls carrying paddles/switches/canes for out of reach serfs in need of disciplining.

 

Flamers that use single malt scotch as fuel (this I actually find believable).

 

Techmarines often neglect upkeep duties under the argument that "In my day, we built things to last! Venerable Brother Lithe the 7th just needs a good oiling and snifter of brandy!"

 

Chapter Master Reginald Baggins Dillinworth Pewtershmidt the 57th, riding into battle upon a comfy chair with robotic spider legs, wearing only a nice robe and fez while brandishing a bejeweled cane as he hollers "TALLY-HOOOO!" Or perhaps riding atop a heavily modified La-Z-Boy LandRaider while overlooking the battle through Opera Theater Binoculars.

 

I think Dorn may be a better primarch for these guys, as I've said elsewhere "Only a son of Dorn humilates and condescends as he purges"

 

Looking forward to what you whip up from this.

[Grey Hunter Ydalir]

riding into battle upon a comfy chair

 

The Comfy Chair!?

 

*Ahem*

 

This is intriguing and I wish to see more. Perhaps a side-skit based on the on the Monty Python sketch about the British Army Officer who got his leg bitten off by a tiger? The reason it sprung to mind is that even though these may be aristocratic toffs, they are still Astartes.

 

"Oh dear, your arm appears to have been lopped off at the elbow Brother!"

 

*Looks down*

 

"By George, it has too! One moment I was shooting at some vagabond over yonder and the next your telling me my arm is not all there! I say, some cad has made off with it!"

 

*Other marine shakes his head*

 

"Bad form there, not sporting at all."

[Donkey Kong]

You've certainly made me laugh, now lets see how far we can carry this theme :lol: .

 

Chapter master: Lord Montgomery Limpwristley-Smithe the 3rd

 

Oh, be fair. Aristocrats usually have respectable names even if they aren't particularly respectable themselves. Have names be especially long, but have them be especially pompous about it when introducing themselves. Remember Colonel Gizhaum Danver de Banzi Haight Gilbear from Gaunt's Ghosts? Even if you don't, you get the idea.

 

Specialty – Long ranged combat in attack bikes

 

Kind of a contradiction, however, it could work with the marines being even more like knights in shining armor with heroic intervention.

I think an even funnier example would be the primary fighting force being chapter "surfs" taking the place of tactical squads with scout squads. Full fledged marine scouts would be bike scouts, and would act accordingly posh, while the surfs would be foot slogging or in land speeders. Also, for land speeders, I assume that it would be a similar situation to the attack bikes only with higher ranking marines and better caddies :wallbash: ?

 

The surfs should also be able to fit other roles with modeling much like grots substituting for Orks, like two of them attempting to operate an Assault Marine Jump Pack.

 

Numbers – Around 300 due to overly selective recruitment.

 

Kind of leapfrogging on the central military might of the chapter being surfs, but I can imagine situations where the Chapter would travel to Hive Worlds, confront the lord governors and noble houses and recruit all of the Governor's and Nobles' sons, making the first born a marine and all of the latter born into surfs. I think hilarity would ensue every time one of the younger sons was more physically fit than their older brother who was more concerned with carrying on the family business.

 

Battle cry – 'I say, vile xenos/heretic/deamon, would you mind awfully if I killed you? Theres a good chap, chin up, worse things happen in space and all.... (descends into an unintelligible murmur)'

 

Think of the context in which a battle cry is used and then try and work from there. The Cosmic Space Knights of Doom "Remember where we parked!" is a perfect example. To put very simply, there is no time to question the enemy in battle. The Emperor's Champion trying to talk to an enemy warlord saying this speech would be hilarious, but not an overall battle cry. I imagine something more like "Screw the rules, I have money!" (ala Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series) to be appropriate, it would also be funny considering how much people criticize Marine special rules.

 

The fortress monastery will be a dark cozy mansion, with roaring wood fires and comfortable marine-strength chairs, and plenty of serfs to act as self-cleaning foot stools. Also a never ending supply of spirits and cigars.

 

I like the idea of a mansion. However, based on their recruiting practices, they should be fleet based. Remember, what makes joke Chapters all the more funny is when they actually fit in the fluff.

 

Their going to be from the cursed founding to explain their frailty

 

Like the previous post, you want it to fit within the fluff. Marines will never be frail. A marine missing three limbs will still be able to spit acid into your eyes, eat your brain and cave in your ribcage with his mangled foot. Laziness makes them funnier. Also, since they are gentlemen, couldn't it be assumed that they'd train more with swords and dueling pistols and other "honorable" weapons. I could imagine an Aristocracy Emperor's Champion challenging an Ork warboss to pistols at dawn, and the ensuing argument as the Warboss wants to Waaagh! now the the Emperor's Champion keeps trying to prevent the warboss from fighting until the next morning.

 

Biscopea – Greatly reduced effectiveness. Which means my marines are known to use walking sticks and have their caddy carry a lot of their equipment. They have very low endurance and so rarely leave their bikes. Some evidence suggests that this is may actually be caused by the chapter's use of aristocrats as recruits, or simply an excuse not to do any undignified running.

 

Get rid of this. Marines are never frail. Laziness is a completely different issue, and refusing to get up because it's undignified is hilarious. Not being able to walk by yourself because you're too weak to carry your own enhanced body both doesn't make any sense and isn't funny, it's wimpy and sad. Beating canes should still be mandatory equipment, though.

 

Omophegea – can only learn by eating if tissue is fermented and distilled into a fine brandy, and then aged for several years in the marines personal wine cellar.

 

Lyman's ear – Prevents the marine from hearing anyone without good breading, apart from their assigned serf, who often has to relay information to the marine.

 

Both of these should be things that the marines themselves claim. "I can't eat THAT!" and "Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am" are both funny and fit the wealthy.

 

Making the Larraman's Organ defective would be a pretty good play on many aristocrats being hemophiliacs, although the reasons would be obviously different, defective organs as opposed to inbreeding.

 

The Betcher's Gland should make a weaker, citric acid, allowing the marines to make their own mixed drinks with a 40k vodka substitute and sugar.

 

Overall, I'm very impressed, and I love this idea. It may motivate me to continue (ie: start) working of the Emperor's 9mm Uzis, another joke Chapter with a completely different theme.

[Fiery Ovaltine]

Oh, be fair. Aristocrats usually have respectable names even if they aren't particularly respectable themselves. Have names be especially long, but have them be especially pompous about it when introducing themselves. Remember Colonel Gizhaum Danver de Banzi Haight Gilbear from Gaunt's Ghosts? Even if you don't, you get the idea.

 

I was going for double or triple barreled serious names for most of them, that chapter master name certainly wasn't set in stone. Although since they all technically went to the same boarding school, they'll probably refer to each other as Squitters and Bunty and Biffo etc.

 

Kind of a contradiction, however, it could work with the marines being even more like knights in shining armor with heroic intervention.

I think an even funnier example would be the primary fighting force being chapter "surfs" taking the place of tactical squads with scout squads. Full fledged marine scouts would be bike scouts, and would act accordingly posh, while the surfs would be foot slogging or in land speeders. Also, for land speeders, I assume that it would be a similar situation to the attack bikes only with higher ranking marines and better caddies laugh.gif ?

 

The surfs should also be able to fit other roles with modeling much like grots substituting for Orks, like two of them attempting to operate an Assault Marine Jump Pack.

 

There isn't going to be anything heroic about them whatsoever. They'll have no respect for human life at all (apart from 'good old boys from the golf club' maybe) and will be so aloof they won't understand that shooting into an orphanage to kill a rogue grot is wrong. I think they should see themselves as governors, coming in an sorting things out when the little people mess up.

 

Think of the context in which a battle cry is used and then try and work from there. The Cosmic Space Knights of Doom "Remember where we parked!" is a perfect example. To put very simply, there is no time to question the enemy in battle. The Emperor's Champion trying to talk to an enemy warlord saying this speech would be hilarious, but not an overall battle cry. I imagine something more like "Screw the rules, I have money!" (ala Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series) to be appropriate, it would also be funny considering how much people criticize Marine special rules.

 

I was thinking of something along the lines of 'Let's show them what for chaps! Six of the best!'

Although I don't think them all shouting at once really fits at all.

 

Both of these should be things that the marines themselves claim. "I can't eat THAT!" and "Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am" are both funny and fit the wealthy.

 

I'm going to take your advice, forget the whole cursed business and have these and the weakness be just things they claim.

 

In a fit of boredom and loneliness I've written whats essentially the first draft of an IA in few hours, but looking back on it I've made it fit the fluff well, but in doing so left out all the humor...

Ah well it'll get there.

[BigMek]

I say guvnor, tha's a right good idea ye have there it is, polis yer power armour for a nickel sir?

 

I can't help but imagining marines with tophats and monacles looking at a demon saying to each other "powerfully vulgar" "mmyes indeed".

 

Now bring on the minis!

[Firepower]

riding into battle upon a comfy chair

 

The Comfy Chair!?

 

*Ahem*

 

This is intriguing and I wish to see more. Perhaps a side-skit based on the on the Monty Python sketch about the British Army Officer who got his leg bitten off by a tiger? The reason it sprung to mind is that even though these may be aristocratic toffs, they are still Astartes.

 

"Oh dear, your arm appears to have been lopped off at the elbow Brother!"

 

*Looks down*

 

"By George, it has too! One moment I was shooting at some vagabond over yonder and the next your telling me my arm is not all there! I say, some cad has made off with it!"

 

*Other marine shakes his head*

 

"Bad form there, not sporting at all."

 

I think this may be a good direction to take things, keeping it funny but still Astartes in nature. They'd be the sort of folks to stand in front of a mirror calmly shaving with a strait-edge while orks rampaged through the camp, walking by dying serfs with a simple "Evenin' lads, jolly good scrap" and so forth.

 

 

Couldn't help myself :mellow: :

 

Captain Frederick Zedenbutter Julius the 2nd stood calmly in the trench, teacup in hand with power armored pinky properly raised as the shots of rampaging orks yonder zipped about his finely trimmed mustache. "Right, about time for a walk to the front then, lads," he decreed calmly, and as one the five remaining serfs out of seventy not moments before snapped to attention, properly trained as they were.

 

"Aye sir, splendid time for an assault sir, kill those ragamuffins we will eh gov'?" they chatter on in chorus, before a distinct "Ahem!" and stern look from beneath their lord's top hat stalled their reverie.

 

"Oh goodness gracious I'm sorry m'lord!" squealed young Thomas Jubbershmidt, forgetting that the marine's boots had been freshly polished and painted just that morning. He leaped onto the ridge of the trench, forming a human staircase which promptly sank into the blood and gore as Julius the 2nd hulked on over him and onto the ridge above.

 

"Don't let it happen again, boy," he scolded down to the half buried serf, receiving a gurgled whimper in return before turning his attention back to pressing matters: he had forgotten to leave his teacup in the tent! A few of the smaller servants noticed the dilemma and scrambled to assist, but being a Captain meant some things just had to be done by one's self, if only to set an example. That very example saw poor Thomas buried fully into the trench-work as Julius the 2nd stepped back down and back over the ridge, leaving nothing but a human footprint behind.

 

"Hmm bruh-bruh RIGHT! Umm...where was I?" asked the towering space marine even as shrapnel pinged and ricocheted off his armor, the serfs scrambling up over the top to join him pausing a moment and looking at one another, as if stumped.

 

"Umm...an assault, m'lord? Killin' Orks and all that rot?" young Jeremiah Bates the 12th replied in a quizzical tone, scratching his head and looking up at his master for approval even as brother Snidely beside him exploded into a fountain of bloody ribbons.

 

"Good lad! Right!" Julius blustered through his mustache, raising his bolter and aiming it down range, his free hand adjusting his monocle for aim until finally, a single, loud thud of the receiver sent a round whizzing through an Ork's arm. "Drat, barely winged the devil! Oh well, better luck tomorrow," he sighed, shrugging and turning back to step into his tent below, calling over his shoulder to the two bemused serfs still standing.

 

"You lads show 'em one for, and when you're done come see to the holes in my mosquito netting! Must I do everything for myself?!"

[Ace Debonair]

This is all eerily similar to my nephew's chapter. :huh:

 

Except, of course, for there being serfs on the battlefield.

Because War's a nobleman's sport, dont'cha know, and it'd be the height of bad form to involve common mortals, indeed to goodness. Besides, astartes have standards, not like those dastardly Chaos oiks or those repulsive Greenskin chaps.

[Leonaides]

there is one thing missing from these guys. Maybe having to appropriate dc rules but you could have a nice defect unit of military genius/stonecold killers who would strole thru a world eater warband and come out the other side saying- is that the best you've got? I'm thinking the wellington/richard lionheart/edward longshanks/black prince kind of guy... The sort that crop up even in families of the best breeding and somehow manage to get to the top, despite the system. But more please! Write quicker!!!

[Lysimachus]

Except, of course, for there being serfs on the battlefield.

Because War's a nobleman's sport, dont'cha know, and it'd be the height of bad form to involve common mortals, indeed to goodness. Besides, astartes have standards, not like those dastardly Chaos oiks or those repulsive Greenskin chaps.

 

 

I get what Ace is saying here, although I could see that instead of assigning scouting duties to the new initiates (who would, even as green recruits, consider themselves far too far above such 'dash it all cowardly skulking!' :lol: ) they'd use poorly trained/equipped Chapter serfs in place of a 10th Company?

 

Come to think of it, you could use Leonaides' stone cold killer idea above as a scout/serf who has against all the odds survived both the enemy and his master's incompetence and become the unofficial 'Captain' of the 'Tenth Company'?

[soddinnutter]

You could have a Black Adder in the 3rd series relationship going on with the Marines and the Serfs.

 

A few idiot aristocrats very much like the Idiot Prince constantly having their collective asses saved by their servants being more cunning than themselves.

 

Bonus points for the words 'I Have A Cunning Plan M'Lord' appearing at some point.

 

Their relationship with their caddies being at least as much 'You there, servant, sort this riffraff out' as the caddies manipulating the Marines into acutely having no choice but to do their jobs.

 

Maybe the Head of the Serfs could be called Edmund Adder.

 

Head of the Armory could even be called Ned Ludd if you want to get historical.

[Hubernator]

One thing missing; The Hunt. You cannot have a Chapter of posh snobs witout the Hunt :tu: They take to their bikes in great numbers, loose their unusually large and rather vicious pets and go on a general killing spree. however this would be limited by them only hunting one thing at a time; like an Ork Nob that just so happens to be in range.