|
 The Players Davin Valkri posted:Flemming the Operative - LordZoric Supporting Cast Andreas Callet - Human Purist Movement Leader. Argo - Dispatcher at Cortez-Byers, possibly has his Skullport mushed? B.B. - Razorgirl loaded with weapon tech. Owes Morning* a whooping. Bliss - One of Morning*'s followers. Druglord. Bliss's Ma - Nice old lady. Nobody fucks with her cause she's a sweetie. Blops - Cotton's Irregular. Twitchy and needs nuero tune ups. Carala - One of Oligarch Westerman's staff. Cotton - Some kind of PSF leader? One of the good guys? Diamond - Cotton's Irregular. Burnt, no skin, covered in shiny polymer. Dolphin - Ten year old with a shotgun. Midwife's kid. Eagle - He sells medical supplies and is sexy Elaine & Christopher Hoffstat - Rich? Lined to Westerman? Elena - Girl used as an implant/flesh farm by parties unknown. Elohim - Seraphim's mentor, ghost in The Nexus. Empiro Penguin - Musician, collaborator with Morning* - wants his tracks back. Flash - Sang's medical assistant. Gregor Falcon - Head of The BlackFalcon Security, largest PSF in the city. Hel@l - Morning*'s Right hand man. //Hero-Shima - Accomplished Nexusweaver at Cortez Byers. Has a neuro-stim habit. Hex - Cotton's Irregular. Mechadendrites in his spine. Hunter - Django's drinking buddy. Idaho Green - Collector and long-time grudge holder. Hates Dhana. Hates Flemming. Indra - Cybernetic eyes, gang banger. Bounty hunter. After Flemming. Irregulars - Cotton's boys, a gang of hard bastards. James Wooleridge - Fake ID used by Dhana. Jean1 through Jean99 - K. Horlicks's clone enforcers and private army. John Woo - Religious leader, head of The Chaos Buddhists. K. Horlicks - Gangster and 'CyberPrince' of the city. Laibach - black market cyberware genius. Flemming wants him for his company. Leon - VTOL worker for Cortez-Byers. Transported Ellena to Sang. Merry Clearman - Disaster control and situation handler. Cleans up messes. Midwife - Django's drinking buddy. Greasy. Mr Cortez - Director of Cortez-Byers Cryodigitals - Flemming's Employer Mrs Xi - Hotel owner. Life saved by Seraph. Nevermind - Morning*'s handler, previous lover. Oggo Elgo - Techhead with illuminated chest implant. Linked to Westerman? Oligarch Westerman - Antique buyer, mysterious. Oxnard Montalvo - fake ID used by Morning*. Pan - Owner and head chef at Peanut Pan's Noodlebar & Ricejoint. Quig - Drug dealer, had a motherboard, not so much now. Rinsler - Head of security at Cortez-Byers Cryodigitals. Scutter - Junky and associate of Oligarch Westerman? Smiling Cat - Insurance Corp Troubleshooter - Dhana's Friend The Baron - Millitary? Security? Happy with a gun. Linked to Westerman? Tool - Door installation and repairs. Umbro - Shoesalesman looking motherfucker. Has an "employer". Wo Xi - Mrs Xi's son. Chubby. Has a stun gun. (give me more as you create them in play, call out "I think this dude is worth mentioning as important) Locations High-Downtown - Riverboats, skyscrapers, commercial buildings. Hotel with B.B - Hotel in High-Downtown. Attacked by a Jean when * was there. Mrs Xi's Hotel - Exploded and destroyed. Seraph is a suspect. Riverfront cabin - Westerman's meeting place. Dirty, abandoned, secure. Sang's Surgery - Alleyway, hidden, private The Most Excellent Oddments Wonders and Marvels Emporium - Public, secure, Dhana's Peanut Pan's - Noodle and Rice place. Chairs around along hot-top. (feel free to give me more as you create them in play) Reminders Normal posting rules. Name in bold, actions, then crunch in italics. Roll using whatever you like as long as it can be linked. Have another look through the basic moves, some are actually quite complex. Try and post as regularly as possible, I'll try and make sure it flows, but the most active people will get the most action. Be sexy! Be clever and throw me twists! Be cool! Be funny, but try not to get too surreal or avert somebody else's work with cheap hijinks. BARF FORTH CYBOCALYPTA! Captain_Indigo fucked around with this message at Mar 3, 2013 around 11:11 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 02:18 |
|
|
|
| # ? May 24, 2013 15:28 |
|
|
Night becomes day. The sky over the city is the color of the skyscreen showing two topless women grinding against one another. A small logo claims it is an advertisement for medical insurance. The First Session begins. Rain pours from the sky in thick sheets. In High-Downtown it sounds different to how it sounds in the sheet-roof shanties. A single bolt of lightning illuminates the sky, rather gingerly, and never returns. The thunder crack is almost embarrassed to follow. It is an entirely unremarkable Wednesday in the city. Flemming, Tha-UMP tha-Ump tha-UMP is the sound of your heart beating in your chest. SsssllllLLLLSSssssSSS is the sound of the rain hitting the rooftops. Whep Whep Whep is the sound of your feet pounding the stone and metal. Then there is air beneath your feet and silence as you leap from one rooftop to the next. CLANG is you landing on a sheet of corrugated iron. The pursuers call after you. Who is chasing you? What do they want? What do you do? Sang, you haven’t slept all night and the reason for it is lying right there on a dirty stretcher. There are medical paraphernalia littering the floor and bodily fluids soaking up into towels. The front door creaks open and there’s somebody there you aren’t happy to see. What happened? Who are they? What do you do? Seraph, for someone who has been through so much it takes an awful lot to get you upset. Last night you were doing your usual thing when you came across something troubling in The Nexus. Four hours later and you’ve followed a trail of information that’s left you uncharacteristically anxious. What have you stumbled? What does it mean to YOU personally? What do you do? Morning*, you got a good night’s sleep for a change, a luxury in this time and place. You wake up with a yawn and find somebody standing in the corner of your room. What’s more it’s somebody you certainly didn’t expect to see there. Who is it? What do they want? What do you do? Dhana, Oligarch Wesserman has sent you an invite to a private party. He seems insistent that you turn up, and asks you to wear something nice. You can’t tell for definite from the phrasing in his letter, but he seems to be suggesting that he will be finally meeting you in person. Only problem is three minutes after receiving the invitation you received an anonymous message via The Nexus. Don’t go – No name, no trail, nothing. What are you thinking? What are you feeling? What do you do? It, the morning starts for you like most. You wake up somewhere uncomfortable and wet, but don’t know any different to feel miserable. Today however, there’s a surprise waiting next to you when you open your eyes. Something that wasn’t there when you fell asleep. Where are you? What is it? What do you do? Everyone, describe your surroundings a bit, tell me where you are.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 02:19 |
|
|
What roll should I use for combat? -If you threaten someone and plan to follow through on the threat, or if your attack takes them by surprise, roll Go Agro. -If you threaten someone but don't actually want to have to follow up and face the consequences, roll Manipulate. -If you find yourself in a Mexican stand off type position and everybody is willing to harm their opponents, but nobody has fired yet, rolled Seize by Force. You are essentially seizing the upper-hand of the fight. Captain_Indigo fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 12:07 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 02:19 |
|
|
Morning* Morning* woke up in the morning: not 3 in the morning, not brunch, but actual, continental, breakfast. He scratched himself, realizing that the bed he was sleeping on had sheets that didn't scratch for him. From the sounds of things, he was high; penthouse high in the highest part of this lowlife city. It clashed with the gently rolling plains plastered all over the wall and and floor. Bleary from sizzurp and somnia, he could barely make out the figure in the corner of his room. "You must be the bird from last night," he said, smacking his lips, "You are a bird, right? No offense if you ain't but..." The world lurched into focus and with it, understanding. Understanding of an imminent reaming in business casual. Morning* felt a hangover coming on. Bio-engineered liver must've been on the fritz. "Ah hell, yer probably wonderin' where the new tracks are, eh Nevermind?" Nevermind adjusted her glasses, the better to stare down her nose at Morning* with. "Among other things, yes."
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 04:16 |
|
|
Seraph Something in the back of Seraph's mind tells him he should have gone to bed hours ago. His body may not need rest, but his brain does. He ignores it and remains sitting up on his dumpy futon in his dumpy capsule hotel room. Outwardly his face is passive, his hand twitching slightly, his false eyes vacant. Inside he is concerned. And livid. Diving into The Nexus searching for news late Tuesday night, the rush of data flowing through his brain, past his eyes, he'd come across a very concerning news article. A young woman had been found dead in a more-unsavory-than-normal section of the city, with one arm ripped clean out of the socket. Perhaps not so notable on its own, in this city. But Seraph had thought he'd recognized the name and face of the poor woman, and had dug deeper into the matter, picking up news reports, pirate radio signals, citizen blogs. And his hunch had been right. The woman was a local worker who had lost her hand and lower arm in an industrial accident. The corp she worked for had paid for a cheap cybernetic replacement--nothing too fancy like his own body (note to self, trawl again for dead gangers, alias, and false accounts nobody will connect, bodies are expensive), but enough to get her back on the job. She'd received the arm and recovered at St. Luke General Medical Hospital, the same facility that Seraph had called his second home far too often. And the crime scene had been littered with graffitos like "chromedome", "metal whore", and other such "pleasantries". At least, according to the first SieTee Professional Police pictures he'd found floating around--even the earliest "man on scene" citizen journalist reports didn't show any of that, instead suggesting that the woman had been a random druggie killed over a dose (along with a conspiracy that a corp had been distributing said doses, and the drug in question caused hyperviolence, and...). Another hunch. Someone--someones?--at the STPP is deliberately attempting to obfuscate the matter. Cover up the anti-prosthetics and pro-"purity" motive, write the matter off as a random act of violence. And the victim's history strikes too close to home for him to let the crime sit. Heck, come to think of it, had the car bomb that had destroyed his original fleshy form ever been properly looked into? This needs more investigation. Seraph's brain pounds again. Maybe after breakfast; he's been up all night. He eases himself out of the capsule and heads for the hotel's lobby for a bite. Davin Valkri posted:Seraph the Decker Davin Valkri fucked around with this message at Mar 8, 2013 around 02:32 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 05:24 |
|
|
Sangquote:Playbook: Street Surgeon "What the gently caress...? Oh gently caress. Fuckin'...gently caress. gently caress, gently caress, gently caress, gently caress. ...I'm hosed." I took a call four hours ago. Courier needed a pick-up and fix-up. Body was hosed, looked like a rip-n-rob to me. Probably needed a total rebuild and that's contingent if I would be lucky enough to get something from the neuros after amping. However, I was getting paid a shitload and it's not like I had anything better to do so why the gently caress not, eh? Once I brought it into the lab, it became obvious exactly how hosed this was. Every organ, I'm talking kidneys, liver, lungs, heart, was removed. There were even cuts for poo poo that's not even supposed to be in there, probably redundants. The body still had top of the line hand-woven subdermal plates in it though! The harvester didn't even take the serious poo poo! Even weirder, the genecode appeared to be completely novel. My synthreader didn't even recognize the flesh to be human. Well, I should've figured it out but it was fuckin' late and I was fuckin' tired. The Nexus gave me an answer but it wasn't really something I wanted to hear... Paradise Pharmaceuticals. I just spent the last four hours, dissecting a transnat's intellectual property. Worse, I just broadcast that information for any badman to see. I wasn't very surprised when I heard the knock a couple minutes later. I'm hosed. dongsbot 9000 fucked around with this message at Feb 25, 2013 around 18:11 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 06:21 |
|
|
Nevermind walks towards Morning* with a look of contemplative disgust. Her gun is plastic and lightweight, but still capable of putting a hole in your face. She lets it hang limp from one hand though, it's more for show than anything. "The tracks *, where are they?" she sniffs and adjusts her glasses. "Don't try and get sweet with me sweetie, Baz and Omar are waiting outside. I'd have bought them in with me but I think Omar would have killed your outright...after what happened last time. Come, the tracks, then I'll be out of your balls." You kind of presumed the swanky hole belonged to Nevermind, but she seems like an intruder here. That means that if there WAS a girl and it wasn't just some narco-induced sex dream, she is no longer present. What do you do? Also I forgot about your opening move! Roll+Fortune (which I think you work out from your choices in followers or something) and check your Fortune move for the results. Seraph takes the elevator down to the hotel lobby and regrets it the moment the door open. The kitchen is visible through the main hall - full of food and coffee and private booths. But between him and there is a lobby packed to bursting with Security personnel. The various colors and designs of their tech armor clashes into a sea of ugly colors and shapes. Automatics and Grenade-hoppers hang on shoulders, spray-and-prays and glocks are hanging on belts. There isn't enough space for whatever it is that everyone is trying to do, and arguments are starting to break out. Fingers are twitching dangerously close to guns and voices are being raised. The hostess is trying to calm them down, but most people are past the point of listening. It is possible to get through to the kitchen, or to the exit even, but it'll mean carving a path through the Security. As far as you're aware they probably have no real reason to go for you, but life in the city teaches everyone one important lesson - never go near Security. Sang they only knock once. Then you hear the door being kicked at. It's reinforced, at no small expense to yourself - being the best non-licensed medical for miles and miles around means that you'd get your door kicked in every day if it could be. Whoever is here for you kicks the door with increasing vigor. You hear muffled conversation and then the unmistakable buzz of a plasma-ring cutter warming up. If it's a brand new top of the market model then you have about eight seconds, if its old or busted then it might take a full minute to gain enough heat to cut through the door.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 12:28 |
|
|
Flemming OOC: Almost forgot my beginning of session move. Intrigue! posted:Intrigue!: your employers often call upon you to perform dangerous or I've not done pbp on here before, the FAQ says you'll roll for me, is that cool?/ooc Captain_Indigo posted:Flemming, Tha-UMP tha-Ump tha-UMP is the sound of your heart beating in your chest. SsssllllLLLLSSssssSSS is the sound of the rain hitting the rooftops. Whep Whep Whep is the sound of your feet pounding the stone and metal. Then there is air beneath your feet and silence as you leap from one rooftop to the next. CLANG is you landing on a sheet of corrugated iron. The pursuers call after you. Who is chasing you? What do they want? What do you do? Corp goons, the lot of them. They come Courtesy of Travis Applications, an upstart corp working on new ways to exploit everyone's neural links to the Nexus. Data on their dubious little business plan made its way into my possession, data they want back. I was taking a short, and might I say well deserved, moment of quiet in a small Nexus-cafe. They were waiting for me when I left, no way that could have happened without help. Somebody tipped them off. I'll deal with that revelation later, for now, I need to find somewhere to hide. Flemming races ahead of the shades wearing suits waving their flechette pistols around, leaping onto the next rooftop. For a moment, he has a chance to look for a good hiding place. Act Under Fire to find a place to duck out of sight and try to lose the pursuers.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 14:44 |
|
|
Ah, sorry, wasn't aware we had a newbie in our midst or I'd have gone over things a little more clearly. You roll for yourself in this game. Go to http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/ and put in your character's name, keep the number of rolls as 1, and then put in 2d6+(whatever stat you're using, so in your first example it would be whatever your ambition number is. I'd tell you, but I don't know the turncoat too well) Once you roll it'll give you the result and some links. Find the BBCode link and copy/paste it into your post. Also your post is good, but I would shift some of the details in italics up as they are more what you are doing than the crunch. I tell you what, I'll do your post again as I would have done it, just so you can see what I mean. This isn't me having a go or trying to 'fix' anything - just trying to make it as easy to follow as possible for someone who hasn't played here before  . I also PERSONALLY prefer third-person narration and present tense in this sort of thing, just so everybody is typing in the same way. But that's much more a personal preference and you shouldn't feel like you have to.quote:Flemming So for ease of convenience let's say that you rolled that eight in your post, and now I'm going to respond. Remember to put your Influence roll in your next post . Hope that helped and didn't come off as nagging.My Turn Flemming risks a quick glance over his shoulder as the gang slowly gain ground on him. They're fast, and good at chasing, but Flemming is fast too, and very good at running away. He takes a quick turn on one rooftop and leaps as far as he can. He hits the rooftop and rolls, skidding across the wet iron with a splash and landing in a pool of collected rain water thick with filth. He takes a deep breath and buries his head beneath the surface, laying perfectly still. If he's played his cards right the Corp goons will go running straight by. However, just as he is beginning to congratulate himself he hears a sharp cracking sound from beneath him. Reaching out with his fingertips he finds a pane of glass. Looks like he's landed on somebody's skylight, and his added weight is going to be enough to crack it. You can stay where you are, avoid the goons but break through the skylight and fall into parts unknown, or you can leap out to safety, but you'll be caught.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 15:25 |
|
|
Thanks, I do appreciate the example! It was very easy to follow. I've used Invisible Castle before in an ill-fated M&M game on the Atomic Think Tank that ended due to the most belligerent internet person ever. I shall do my own rolling from here on out. Intrigue Roll:2d6+2=11 The mission is a risky one. Kind of sounds like the one Flemming is on right now! I like the options in your post, so I'll go ahead and run with them. Flemming sighs, rock and a hard place and all that. "You've really landed yourself in it this time. Literally." he thinks to himself. Still, looking down the barrel of a gun isn't exactly preferable to dropping down to wherever the hell this goes. Flemming decides to opt for the great unknown. Flemming is going to fall through the skylight LordZoric fucked around with this message at Dec 5, 2012 around 15:58 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 15:42 |
|
|
Sang A lesser doc would've hit the backdoor once he found the ParaPharm tag in the genecode. A lesser doc would've been dead within a week unless he decided to give up the scalpel and drill and hid for the rest of his life. Sang didn't run. He isn't going to run now. "Hey, watch that loving door! It costs more than you goons do! Now, listen up, knuckleheads. You know who I am. I'm a fuckin' professional. I don't know where this body is from and I don't want to know. Your boss knows I'm not on any payroll. I took a job. Now I'm done. I'll give you the body and you get the gently caress out of here. If you keep cutting, full genecode's going on the Nexus. Everyone's hosed then. Manipulate=5. gently caress.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 16:13 |
|
|
Dhanaquote:Hyena Dhana goes through the morning rituals at her shop automatically, a cup of coffee in her hand steaming into the crisp air as she meticulously checks and re-checks to makes sure that everything is in its proper place and nothing has been defiled or stolen. Each item she displays is given as much space as possible and usually has a spotlight trained on it to show off its best qualities. There are no piles of bric-a-brac here. Everything has a place, and everything is in its place. While her body does this her mind turns over the dual messages she has received. The meeting with Westerman is most likely either a trap or one last attempt to butter her up before he becomes aggressive, obviously. But the other message is interesting. Someone is trying to manipulate her, and that always makes her want to dig in her heels. Which of course means that it could very well be from Westerman himself, as her stubbornness is not exactly a secret. She stands in front of the safe where she stores the Totec headset she is sure he desires. It is hers. To surrender it would be to give up a part of herself. To keep it might mean giving up other parts of herself, like her fingers. She double-checks the explosives that will go off should the safe be tampered with: to install them, merely to imagine threatening her prize was a challenge, but she will not be forced. Dhana suddenly blinks up her interface and darts off a terse reply to Westerman informing him of her attendance. If the Anon had wished her to do something perhaps it should not have been so cowardly. She will go to this party, and there she will find out what exactly will happen. She also dashes off a quick request to Flemming, asking him to look into her whereabouts if she disappears and promising payment. Better to have multiple backups. Benagain fucked around with this message at Jan 7, 2013 around 14:56 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 16:40 |
|
|
It's a risky mission. In Flemming's pocket is a Zdrive with important information on it - information apparently too important for you to read. Luckily the tiny chip of data is in a water-proof card. It is also apparently crack proof, Nexus proof, pressure proof and resistant to extreme heat, explosions, extreme cold and electromagnetic pulses. You just have to take it to some retired professor going by the online name //BadEnglish at a nearby address. When the thugs had given chase you had been sure to head in ROUGHLY the right direction, you're nothing if not resourceful. You steady your nerves as the glass beneath you cracks and splinters. You hear footsteps pound around you and then a shadow falls across you as one of your pursuers leaps literally inches over your back. A split-second later the glass shatters and a thick river of filthy rainwater pours into a pitch black room, carrying a soaked Operator with it. You land with a thud surrounded by shards of glass. The room is dark. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. The floor is littered with voided bar-codes and the depleted cryo-stabs. There is a filthy bed against one side of the wall, several gouges in the mattress where it has been used for hidden storage. There is a busted screen embedded in the wall and a couple of empty bottles of eyedrops and stretches of rubber hose. It's not 100% but it would be extremely likely that you've fallen into a Cyberdrug den. At that moment you receive a Nexusmail from Dhana asking you to keep an eye out for her if she disappears. In that split-second of distraction there is a moment of panic on the other side of the room as something scuttles beneath the filthy bed against the wall. Sang the hum of the plasma-ring cutter dies down for a moment. You can almost hear your front door breathing a sigh of relief. Then there are four heavy clunks. "I hope you got yourself a way out doc," somebody mumbles around something in their mouth. "We just planted four breech charges on that mother and you've got the time it takes me to untangle the wires and reach a safe distance before that door goes flying in at like, two-hundred miles per hour." Sang glances around for some kind of protection. The interior walls are paper thing and might well just cave in, the furniture is old and crumbling. His eyes flirt with the corridor to the back exit...and then fall upon the heavily reinforced dead body.... You can either break out the back and make a dash for it, leaving the body, as well as some private information and code behind, or you can take shelter behind the body and its plates and deal with the intruders. Either way it's up to you to narrate what happens. Argh I know an MC isn't supposed to show his hand, but just this once because it's a great example to how the game works for new people. In Sang's last post there are people trying to break into where he is. Now, if he'd used his turn to read the situation then it could have been he learned they wanted to body and would happily walk away with it without violence. BUT. He used his move manipulate to try and trade his safety for the body, and it failed, NOW the people trying to get in want more than that just because of his actions. You see? His choice of response directly changed the situation and made things worse for himself. It's not my job to decide that, just my job to decide HOW it's worse. Apocalypse (Cyber) World is great. Dhana, you fire off a couple of Nexusmails - one to Westerman and one to Flemming. You receive a message back from Oligarch almost immediately. "Good. Can't wait to meet you." No mention of the Totec headset at least. The question now comes to just how prepped you want to be for this meeting. He said to dress up nice, which somewhat limits your ability to conceal a weapon. If you want to take some protection with you then it'll have to be something discrete, there may well be something in the shop. You've got time to browse your own product, but once that's done you should probably head on over...though you could always leave him waiting or simply not turn up at all... Whoops, Hyenas have a session starting move too! Next post roll 2d6+0 for your hoard's hunger. I also forgot how complex the hunger rules are, so try and keep an eye on things for me and I will try and do the same
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 18:38 |
|
|
Seraph "Well, darn." observes Seraph, eyes wide--well, as wide as possible with a false face--at the sea of Private Security Forces in front of him. "I guess breakfast is cancelled." He doesn't particularly wish to try to fight his way through the PSFs for a bite of soy food, but the elevator "close door" button doesn't seem to be working, no matter how much he hammers it. At least the bell that signaled the car's arrival was broken too, or else the entire group of pissoffs would have looked his way. Look at all those colors and logos, Seraph thinks to himself. SieTee Private Police, the Jagged Alliance Group, Neo-Pinkerton Protection...what could they all be doing here? Stepping off the elevator car and turning towards a faded reproduction floral print on the wall, he makes a show of staring at it. He isn't, of course; he's smarter than that. As he stands in apparent contemplation of the print, his eyes dart back and forth to the windows and officers, including his Nexus analysis overlay, as his brain tries to figure out what the heck is going on. Reading a Charged Situation, rolled an 11. What's my enemies' (the PSFs') true position? What should Seraph be on the lookout for? What's Seraph's best escape route?
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 19:12 |
|
|
Sang "gently caress!" Sang's still not going anywhere. He dives under the stretcher right before the big boom happens. The door leaves the frame and doesn't stop flying until it reaches the back wall, knocking a mess of poo poo off the wall separating the front room from the back room. "Well, gently caress." Sang has a few minutes before the goons figure out Sang's still alive and before they can find the body under all this poo poo. He takes a little time to send a quick Nmail to Flash and Fly, his assistants. "The shop is loving blown to hell. I need someone to get me out of this mess...QUICKLY. Watch out for goons." Read a sitch=10 What should I be on the lookout for? Who's in control here? Which enemy is most vulnerable to me? "gently caress, gently caress, gently caress." dongsbot 9000 fucked around with this message at Dec 5, 2012 around 19:44 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 19:35 |
|
|
Dhana Hoard time! Thanks, dropped the ball on that. Rolled a 6, http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3813615/, so you've got no hold for this session. Which brings up the question of how we're defining session length? Having made her decision, Dhana acts. First, she transfers some of the shop funds to disposable credit chips and secretes them about her person. Always nice to have something non-traceable for bribes and general activities, although if they're stolen the money's gone forever. Raiding the hoard for some jingle, I've got +2 cybercredit and my hoard has +1 hunger. Next, she picks up something lightweight that looks decorative, but should hopefully give her a slight edge in negotiations with the man. Rolled 10 on going into the hoard for something useful. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3813640/ hoard hunger holds at 1. I'm looking for something that will help me keep it together under stress, either by nullifying things that make me roll Cool or boost my Cool stat, your choice. Let's hope this doesn't blow up in my face! Her tasks accomplished, she hails a cab and sets off.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 20:17 |
|
|
Flemming Flemming jumps up to his feet, steps out the rainy spot where a window once was and dusts off his soggy coat. Trying to maintain whatever dignity he maintained, he looks over his shades at whatever it is in the corner. "Sorry about the mess. Ah, perhaps you could just point me to the way out and no harm done? There's several men with large guns and larger muscles who would very much like to cause great injury to my person, and I doubt you want to be part of the collateral damage." As he says this he eyes up the rest of the room, scanning for possible methods of egress. A small buzz informs him that he has a message, distracting him slightly. From Dhana, she needs cover. "Hah," think Flemming, "well if I'm still alive to make sure you're still alive, you have a deal dear lady." Gonna Read a Sitch, 8 Alright! Flemming is distracted from the fall, but at least he's got the presence of mind to anaylze his situation. One question: Where’s my best escape route/way past? LordZoric fucked around with this message at Dec 5, 2012 around 20:21 |
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 20:18 |
|
|
Seraph, you busy yourself checking the wallpaper whilst you effortlessly log on to The Nexus overlay and check out what's going on. By momentarily diverting some processing power from some illegal poker-running servers hidden in the wall, Seraph gets millions of scans a minute and analysis fed directly back to him. -The PSF's true position if legitimate. They are really all in the greeting hall. In fact there is a distinct lack of security outside. Most of the time there's a veteran or a fat gently caress waiting in a vehicle outside, often standing around the HUGE plasma launcher artillery cannons attached to the back of the latest Security Tech vehicles. Today, everyone seems to be in the hotel lobby. -You should be on the lookout for something else entirely! One of the scanners kicks off an alarm bell inside your head. Something is moving quickly and erratically towards you. The scanners pick it up before you can hear it, and you hear it before you see it. A high-pitched throbbing and pulsing approaching with increasing speed and vigor. There's a Hover Bike blazing towards the hotel. -Noticing the servers reminds you about the back exit. You won't be able to get to the kitchen through it, but it's the quickest way out to the back alley and any number of eating establishments beyond. Mrs Xi, the hostess, manages to raise her voice loud enough to be heard for a moment over the din of the PSFs. "I don't understand! Nobody here made a call! There is no Mr. Horliks here! You think K. Horliks hangs out here?! Why would he? And why would I call all of you?" The crowd of PSFs fall quiet, and that's when you hear the hum of the Hover Bike heading straight for the hotel. What do you do? Sang, your ears ring with a high-pitched sizzle as the door strikes the back wall. There are four white-hot circles burning in the corners of the door and they are belching silver smoke into the room. You're just lucky that the goon had to fumble with wires, most explosives are N-detonated now. Three figures step into the room, fanning smoke from their faces and coughing as it fills their lungs. You feel a tickle in your own throat but manage to stifle it for now. They don't seem too alert, in fact it appears they've come to the sensible conclusion you're either fled or dead. You're expecting Security considering the type of thing you saw inside the body, but the three dudes who strut inside do not look like Security. Instead, they're all shaved heads and piercings and long red coats. Oh poo poo. Chaos Buddhists. And you recognize one of them. You have no idea what they want with the body. -You want to be on the lookout for the GIGANTIC 'moose killer' guns all three are carrying. Each one is a trigger attached to a curved handle attached to a metal dream-catcher looking thing. The trigger is pulled and the things fires a blast of concentrated air and gravity that leaves everything in its path knocked as if it's been hit by a truck. -The Chaos Buddhist you recognize is Flick Menpol. A quick glance at the silver rings threaded through his ears indicates that he's superior to the two grunts alongside him. He rubs a hand over his head and sighs. You don't know him well, but you've spent hours of your life stitching him back together after bar fights, gang wars and fight clubs. Looks like he found religion. Good for him. -Flick makes some hand gesture and the two grunts begin searching the room. They spread out in a fan. A section of wall and an ocean of dust has covered the body, or maybe they're too tweaked to see it atop the stretcher above you. One of the guys wanders pretty close, and since he's wearing only sandles his Achilles tendons are totally open. There are enough cheap replacements on the market that you can take them out and he'll be walking again in a day...but that'll be a day away from now and you might be a day away. Dhana, you browse your own produce, as well as your private stock, for something useful to you in your meeting with Oligarch Wesserman. You come out a few minutes later with a flash-cracker grenade. It's not exactly going to make you any better at rolling with punches, but its configured to your own skull port. You can set it off in your pocket and it'll give off a flash of light bright enough to momentarily blind anyone watching, a sound loud enough to deafen anyone nearby, and a burst of static heat that'll throw off anything aiming via heat signature. Even more amazing, since it's twinned with your port, you'll be completely unaffected. You might not be cool, but you'll be running away without having to worry about getting shot at. The taxi driver takes you to the corner of the address Wesserman sent you and drops you there. The building is smaller than you expected. It's a dark little shack on the edge of the river. There is a single door and no windows. A river trader wolf-whistles at you from his skip as it passes, then throws you a free sample of soy-shot with a wink. Waiting outside the door to the shack is a woman named Carala - an associate of Wesserman's that you have dealt with previously. What is Soy-shot? What is Carala like? Not sure how stuff like bonuses work in this game. There probably isn't anything that buffs your stats, because they have such a short range. Hope this satisfies what you were looking for, if not we can discuss it further and come up with something that makes us both happy. Sessions will begin and end when its vaguely thematically appropriate. Essentially if there are a load of separate threads coming together, a load of awesome cliff-hangers or some conclusions being met. Could be anywhere between a week and a month away . Also, when you link from Invisible Castle remember to copy/paste the BBCode link, not the link that's labelled 'link'. Flemming, your conversation with the bed is one sided. Whatever the person beneath is thinking, it seems they have no interest in you. A single blue light flickers on in the shadows for a split-second then goes dead. It's a cryo-stab, a syringe that's all used up and someone is trying to fire off more juice from it. You take a step and glass cracks beneath your boots. It's not just glass from the window, there are tons of empty vials littering the floor. Scraps of food float in the puddle of water that fell from the sky. The rain pelts the carpet. You search the room for the safest escape route. And that's when you realize - there is no way out. The only way out is through the now empty window. You're so preoccupied with finding a way back out that it takes you a second before it even clicks. And that's when you notice a couple of other things and your heart sinks. The squares of discolored concrete where there used to be windows. The sour scent of human waste and rotting food. The iron bolts holding the bed in place against the wall. Whoever is in the room. Does not want to be in the room.
|
| # ? Dec 5, 2012 22:14 |
|
|
Sang "gently caress this." Sang's tried threatening. Didn't work too well. Now he's hiding. It's not going to work much longer. He's still not going to run. Might as well try fighting back now. Sang lunges out from under the table, scalpel out, intending to take down the closest goon before he gets a chance to fight back. Go Aggro=6 gently caress
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 00:11 |
|
|
Edit: Nothing to see here!
Captain_Indigo fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 02:12 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 01:13 |
|
|
"When somebody tries to kill somebody without their fighting back, going aggro is the move.", ApocWorld 193. I always understood "Inflict Harm" to be a MC-exclusive move. Are we just separating the two aspects of Go Aggro (threaten someone, assassinate someone)? I always thought it was a bit silly they were the same move.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 01:24 |
|
|
Seraph K. Horliks? Seraph had heard a few vague things about Horliks--something about a groomed heir to a small corporation. Why would the pissoffs be so interested in her? More interesting to him were all the traffic camera alarms outside getting set off. Something was moving very quickly towards the hotel; judging by the size and the rate of alarms it was a hoverbike. If the pissoffs had done their usual procedure, they'd have caught him in a roadblock right outside the hotel, but instead it seemed that they brought every man they had inside to interrogate the poor proprietor. Somehow he didn't particularly want to get caught in a shootout between the PSFs and whoever that was; probably for the best to just get the hell out. Seraph puts his hood over his pink hair (he'd gotten the dye job to try to draw attention away from his less-than-perfectly-emoting face, but now attention was the last thing he needed) and makes as fast as he can for the back exit. He can get a bite at a vending machine, anyway. Acting under fire, the price being getting caught. Rolled a 9. Oh boy, now comes drama from a choice. Also marking experience for the previous Sharp roll.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 01:26 |
|
|
dongsbot 9000 posted:"When somebody tries to kill somebody without their fighting back, going aggro is the move.", ApocWorld 193. I always understood "Inflict Harm" to be a MC-exclusive move. Are we just separating the two aspects of Go Aggro (threaten someone, assassinate someone)? I always thought it was a bit silly they were the same move. Hmm...perhaps the flowchart is designed to be used more by MCs and not players. Thanks for quoting a page number. Okay, let's instead say Go Agro was right, like the quoted section says you're basically Going Agro but the alternative choice you're offering in the threat is dying. Its "I want you to die or I'll kill you." So the combat rules are basically: quote:-If you threaten someone and plan to follow through on the threat, or if your attack takes them by surprise, roll Go Agro. That sounds about right? Sang, you lunge for the nearest Chaos Buddhist but before the scalpel touches flesh there is a shout from the other side of the room. "Jin, up!" Your victim springs to life, leaping with the grace of a bird and landing with a crash on the stretcher above you. Say what you like about Chaos Buddhists, they were quick. Flick draws his Moose Killer and levels it at you beneath the stretcher. You see the metal mesh net twitch. It's as fragile as an insect's wing, has to be to stay effective. Flick's eyes are wide, he's definitely stoked on something, but there is concern there. Maybe he's remembering all the times you've helped him out. Clearly he had no issue killing you before, now you're face to face he seems less eager. He licks his cracked lips and scratches his bald head. There's a smiley-face key ring on a chain around his neck that says '1 week sober'. "Okay Doc, crawl on out of there real slowly, 'kay?" he says. "Hooo-leee-sheeeet," Jin cries from above you. "Guess who I found." What do you do? If you try anything that'd make Flick go for you (running, attacking, etc.) then it counts as acting under fire. Seraph, you're brain is fuzzy from lack of sleep. The heiress you were momentarily thinking of is Katrin Horbux. K Horlicks is the biggest gangster around, and 'CyberPrince' of the city. As someone so intimately connected to The Nexus, there is little doubt you're aware of his existence...and his power. No wonder there are so many crew inside the lobby. But if Mrs Xi didn't call them... The other remarkable thing about K Horlicks is that he has a private army of 99 clones, the Jeans1-99. They are beautiful, vicious and completely identical in physical appearance. Nobody has any idea how he got hold of them, nor how he seems able to replace them on the rare occasion that one is incapacitated or killed. And one of the Jeans (31 according to the number on her lapel) is what you see as a voice calls out "Hey, you, stop!" The Security calling after you is old, his face weathered. He's short for Security and wearing the black and white checkerboard body armor of Lynx Sec, one of the less corrupt firms. Behind him, through the hotel front door you can see Jean31 racing closer and closer to the front foor carrying something blue and square and throbbing and OH poo poo ITS A PULSE MINE! You can run straight out the back. The whole entrance to the lobby is going to get obliterated in about six seconds and there's no way the Security dude who noticed you is going to survive. Bolt and you'll be way out the back door before it goes off. If you stop to warn anyone, the Security, the exceptionally kind and understanding Mrs Xi, anyone, you'll be able to just about reach the back door and whilst you'll survive, you'll be caught in the heat blast. What do you do?
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 02:05 |
|
|
Dhana Dhana sniffs as she deftly snags the soy-shot from the air and tucks it away about her person. It's a relatively harmless mild narcotic popular with people who enjoy that sort of thing, a black tarry substance you ingest orally, hence the name. Carala is a consummate professional, and thus something of a cipher to Dhana. She carries out her duties efficiently and well, and she has a good eye, but Dhana has no bead on her passions. She seems perfectly content with being her master's voice. Dhana's relatively sure she's no killer though, which makes her slightly more comfortable. This neighborhood, though, does not. Dhana's eyes dart around as she tries to pick up as much as she can, flicking over the deathly clean waterways (turns out releasing nanites that ate everything but water wasn't the greatest idea to clean up the river) and the gnarled and decaying buildings covered in neon flash. "For this, I left my shop?" she queries Carala, deliberately putting some challenge into her tone. Scoping the scene 2d6+2 =9 asking What should I be on the lookout for? as well as What's the most valuable thing here? Because Dhana is always looking for valuable things.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 02:34 |
|
|
Sang "gently caress, gently caress, okay. You got me, I'm coming out. You fuckin' suits. gently caress Para-" Sang crawls out from under the stretcher with hands in the air before feigning surprise. "Flick? It's fuckin' Flick, right? drat, dude, you're looking good. Man, I'm fuckin' sorry, dude. I thought you were some fuckin' suit here to kill me. I mean, you're not here to kill me, right? Why the gently caress would Chaos Buddhists be Corpsmuscle? Besides, you wouldn't kill someone like me! Anyway, you found the body right there. As I was saying, I was just on a job. Take it, it's yours." Read Flick=10 Hold 3 Spend 1: How can I get Flick and his boys to leave, minimizing cost and harm to myself? dongsbot 9000 fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 02:58 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 02:55 |
|
|
Seraph Seraph stops breathing when he hears the PSF yell to stop him. He turns on his heels and looks him in the eye--Lynx Sec? Maybe this wouldn't be too bad...and then he sees a woman, with a neatly embroidered "31" on her lapel, walk in with a blinking thing in her hand. And he realizes that he's confused a harmless corporate noble and the "CyberPrince" of the city. It would be so easy to turn and run. His legs might not have been natural, but they were still fast. He could get well down the alley by the time the explosive went off. And everybody died. Including Mrs. Xi. Or simply became invalids like he had been for half his life. He can't do it. "Mrs. Xi! Pulse mine! GET DOWN!" Seraph points and yells, his voice distorting harshly from the sheer volume. Precious seconds lost, he thinks to himself as he turns and sprints again. But maybe they can save themselves. He just makes it to the back door when the silence from the bomb sucking out air catches up to him. Here it comes...! I'm choosing to warn the people inside about the mine. Bring whatever consequences result from that! Davin Valkri fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 03:11 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 03:08 |
|
|
Fortunes: 2d6+1 = 5, so my scene is in Want. Those wants are savagery and desertion. So I'm going to have to turn shite into shiteaid later. Morning* As what passed for a holy man in the digital wasteland, Morning* believed in karma. Namely, he believed in outrunning it as fast and as hard as he possibly loving could. It was all about your dharma, anyway, and *'s dharma was to be as big an rear end in a top hat and as scummy an individual he could get away with and keep breathing. He didn't understand why people got so mad at him; he was only doing the right thing. "Now ain't this some BASIC," he said, eyes darting nervously from Nevermind's face to her Saturday Night Special. "Not that you aren't anything but the highest grade ware," his eyes started taking the scenic route, "and my inspections are quite thorough..." Nevermind cocked the hammer back. It made a cheap, crackling click; the classic sound of shoddy pre-fab. Hammer was likely to fall off of the drat thing, but how likely was likely? It was likely the gun would fizzle. It was equally likely * would have a new rear end in a top hat between his eyes. It was a bet, and * wasn't in the right state of mind for betting. "Now's not the time for lewdness, *," Nevermind said, voice with AI affectation. "The tracks. Post haste." * waved her off: the light, the booze (it was probably booze) and his heartbeat driving bass between his temples. "I'd give you the bloody tracks if you stopped pointing the bloody gun at me." "You know as well as I do that's not going to happen," she leveled the gun, proper stance and all. Professional in every aspect. "One more time, *. The tracks." * put his hands up. "If you kill me, you won't figure out where they are." "I've been monitoring your recent neural uploads. We'll find the cleanest one, shove it in some robot with a behavioral inhibitor." A small, wry smile. "Maybe that'll make you useful." * sprawled on the bed; Nevermind kept her bead on him the whole way down. "Y'see, tha's the trouble with you suits; so regimented, so-" "Hard to bullshit?" Nevermind said. * had the covers wrapped around him now; no pig in a blanket but filthy enough for the part. "I wouldna say that," he said with a smile like broken glass. There was a knock at the door. "Are you ready to anoint me with your mighty staff, oh grand high poobah?" Nevermind tensed, the facade of professionalism slipping. "Who the gently caress is that?" The knocking came again; louder, angrier. The door started to warp. "Who the gently caress is that?" * half emerged half-dressed from his downy cocoon. He was wondering when things were going to break bad for him in the best way. "Tell ya what, Nev; I'll tell her off if you get off my rear end about the tracks." "And if I don't?" Nevermind's finger crept over the trigger. "I work my voodoo and the razorgirl I shagged last night turns this place into Romeo and Juliet." The broken glass smile grows wider. "'N I'm already the priest." Rolling to manipulate Nevermind with "get off my rear end about the tracks". Personality Upgrade makes that +Wired. 2d6+2 = 8. Good enough.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 04:24 |
|
|
Dhana, you approach Carala with a fairly snide tone. It's how you do business and it's worked for you in the past. Get in people's faces and they say more than they intend to, give that little bit extra away, but this time she's not going to bite. "Miss Dhana," she replies with a sly smile. "I'm glad you've arrived. We're just waiting for a couple of others and then we can begin. I'm afraid Mr Westerman won't be joining us until everybody else is here. Sorry for the inconvenience. Would you like to come in and take a seat?" The shack's door creaks open with a nasty squeel. The room inside is lavishly furnished with a thick rug that immediately catches your eye, and a number of paintings on the walls. "Take a seat if you like, Miss Dhana. You're free to mill around here if the room is too...um...chaotic for your particularly fine sensibilities." -Its probably worth keeping an eye on the river. The nanobots are under better control than they were - if you fall in the water you've got an hour or so before they start nipping at you, but it's still not a great idea. The reason you'll want to keep an eye on it is geographical - the river runs perpendicular to the main street behind you, but without all the twists and curves in the road. It's easily the quickest entrance and exit route, and if Westerman is planning anything, getting away by river is no doubt the best choice. -The most valuable thing you can see is the rug. Probably. If appears to be an original Masot, less than a century old but expertly designed. It shows no sign of wear and tear, but you'd have to get up close to see if it has the original manufacturer's chip. Sang, you crawl out from beneath the stretcher and immediately receive a gentle slap around the back of the head from Jin. It doesn't even hurt, but it's pretty emasculating. Flick nods at the mention of his name, and momentarily drops the end of the Moose Killer. "Sang, Namaste," he places one hand against the Moose Killer, and bows slightly. "Nah man, we weren't sent to kill You, it's just we're not really supposed to leave anyone who's had access to the stiff alive, you dig?" He raises the barrel of the Moose Killer again and the mesh hisses. He kind of shrugs apologetically. "And we're not here for the Corp, yo!" Jin says behind you with a sneer. "Well we are, but it's not just any Corp. Some of us got together and made our own private Security firm. All the Jingle goes back into the Chaos Buddhists so what's the harm." -Flick rolls his eyes. Looks like Jin was not supposed to say that. He doesn't want to kill you but he needs the body...and he needs no witnesses. If you can get rid of Jin and his other accomplice then Flick looks as if he'll let it go. Seraph, the world slows down around you as if you've been narco-stabbing something amazing. Mrs Xi looks over at you, then nods sagely and drops down behind the front desk, throwing her arms up over her head. The Security all go for their weapons at once, most of them clashing elbows in the cramped space. Someone shoots herself in the foot by accident. Jean31 marches in, throws the Pulse Mine, then turns on her heel and is back on her Hover Bike before it even comes a stop. The Security all panic. Then you're moving on auto-pilot and sprinting down the hallways and corridors. You take three sharp turns and then you are at the back door. The last thing you hear is the door slamming against the wall and your heart beating once in your chest. Then there is the sound of the hotel taking a deep breath. You wake up about three seconds later and you're bouncing along the floor. A few years ago it would mean an extended stay at hospital, but for now you're just aching and slightly scratched up. Chunks of flaming concrete and metal are raining down around you. Your ears are ringing and there is a slowly spreading cloud of dust pouring around you. Take 1 harm! I don't know the best way of measuring harm in playbypost so I'd guess just update your sheet to say you're at 3:00 on the health circle. Now roll 2d6+harm(1) to see if you're hurt worse than you thought. I'll let you know the effect of that roll cause I get to choose  . Where have you landed? What do you do?Morning*, Nevermind doesn't seem entirely sure how to react. She licks her lips carefully and eyes the door. There had been two guards out there a few moments before...but now they were gone. Could be the useless dicks had wandered off...or could be that whatever MESS Morning* was shagging had torn them to shreds. She couldn't quite remember what Morning*'s religion was even based around, but if it was The Nexus then there was a ton of horrible poo poo that might go down. Even if it wasn't there was a good chance of horrible poo poo happening. She knew Morning* well enough to know that there wasn't a whole lot he took seriously - but getting his filthy end away was one of them. "Razorgirl?" she says, licking her lips again. She glances to the door and sighs, then gently eases the hammer back down. "Get rid of her and we'll go alright? Just...uh....you think I'm the biggest pain in your rear end that's going to come looking for them? I'll tell you now, I'm not." She holsters the plastic firearm and runs a hand through the side of her hair that isn't shaved completely bald. She's cute in a way. When she isn't aiming a gun at your bonce. Even when she is. "Lose the bit of skirt *, then I'll go" What do you tell the Razorgirl? What has she done to Baz and Omar?
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 12:06 |
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Flemming, your conversation with the bed is one sided. Whatever the person beneath is thinking, it seems they have no interest in you. A single blue light flickers on in the shadows for a split-second then goes dead. It's a cryo-stab, a syringe that's all used up and someone is trying to fire off more juice from it. You take a step and glass cracks beneath your boots. It's not just glass from the window, there are tons of empty vials littering the floor. Scraps of food float in the puddle of water that fell from the sky. The rain pelts the carpet. You search the room for the safest escape route. And that's when you realize - there is no way out. The only way out is through the now empty window. You're so preoccupied with finding a way back out that it takes you a second before it even clicks. And that's when you notice a couple of other things and your heart sinks. The squares of discolored concrete where there used to be windows. The sour scent of human waste and rotting food. The iron bolts holding the bed in place against the wall. Whoever is in the room. Does not want to be in the room. Flemming swallowed a mild sensation of panic as he saw the state of the room. Now wasn't the time to lose it, it was the time for answers. "Listen, whoever you are, I don't want to be in here anymore than you do. I have appointments to make. Tell me what's going on here and we can work together to get out of here. You can trust me." Attempting to Manipulate with the promise of getting this thing out of here if it tells me what is going on and aids Flemming in his escape. 8, well not too bad. Note: I add my cool when I manipulate thanks to the Stick to the Story move. LordZoric fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 15:57 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 14:08 |
|
|
Seraph Harm roll is 9. At least it's not worse! One of the more significant perks of an artificial body, muses Seraph as he lies in a pile of garbage, is the ability to ignore pain when it counts. Not just take narcostabs and painkillers to dull it, but actively shut down nerves so the brain just doesn't pick it up. That doesn't actually do anything for the damage, or the alarms blaring "SHOCK WARNING, CHECK FOR INTERNAL FAILURE" going off in his head, but it helps. He picks himself up and dusts himself off as best he can, tearing a rather large chunk of debris out of his arm as he does so. As near as he can tell, he's landed in the alley between the "Mama's Capsule Hotel" and the shipping/receiving warehouse next door. With all the trash and graffiti and discarded pallets and general mess about, the extra sprinkling of rubble almost doesn't look out of place. Almost, becauses it's clear it's fallen from the upper levels of the capsule hotel, which is currently on fire. As he stumbles out of the alley towards the backstreet or tries to, depending on the harm move result, he fires off two private encrypted Nexusmails to two certain people. One to Flemming, the information broker, about the pulse mine and Jean31 and the apparent screwups of the PSFs. And one to Sang, asking how well he could work on metal flesh. Breakfast...now probably brunch...could wait. He takes off his charred hoodie, revealing the bodysuit underneath, drapes it over his shoulder, and starts heading off through rainy shadowy side alleys to Sang's little hole in the city. Davin Valkri fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 16:18 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 15:24 |
|
|
Sang "Flick, you know me. I don't talk, especially about friends. Let's put the guns down", Sang drops his knife, "nice piece you have there by the way, and let's talk." Sang begins to step away from Jin. Spend 1: What does Flick wish I'd do?
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 16:20 |
|
|
Dhana Dhana walks in quickly and begins doing a slow orbit of the room, hands clasped together behind her back, pretending to examine the paintings and her surroundings as if she hadn't picked up everything about them already. "So who else is coming to this wonderful event? I'm hoping against hope that you didn't invite that prick St. Yves. I'm assuming this has to do with your employer's collection," she allows a note of respect to enter her voice, "but I'm still confused as to why coming here was necessary." She watches Carala out of the corner of her eye, trying to glean as much as she can from behind the woman's eyes. Reading the person, because I can, dammit.2d6+2=7. Asking "What does your character want me to do?" and "What's the best thing you're carrying?"
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 16:21 |
|
|
Flemming, you hear a gentle sniffling, then there is another dull pulse of blue light - another empty narcostab. Slowly, painfully slowly, a woman crawls out from beneath the bed, her eyes watching you with wide hesitation. Her face is as smooth and white as porcelain and her eyes are a deep chocolate brown. Below the neck her body turns into a mesh of old-world electronics, vague hydraulics and spasming limbs. A single glance is enough to turn your stomach with nausea. She is a farm - take a body, load it up with parts and let them grow, come back and harvest them later. The hydraulics are probably her own from before this happened to her. The rest is either organs she is growing or artificials and implants that need calibrating with a willing host. When her lips open her voice has the electronic reedy sound of a kazoo. "Help...me...help...me..." her eyes blink one after the other with a whir as clear films come down like the eyes of a crocodile. "Together...we...can reach...the window...Please...Help me out..." She scuttles forward on weak hydraulic limbs that squirt oil and blood with each step. A row of sex baby legs hang down from her bare stomach, wriggling uselessly above the ground. "I will...reach down and...help you up..." You receive an Nmail from Seraph. She'll help you out, but she insists on you lifting her out the window first. If she bolts then you'll be stuck and really hosed. Seraph, you climb to your feet and try and shake off the worst of the warning lights. Surprisingly, after a good shake down and a couple of quick adjustments, the damage seems mostly surpufluos. Still, you've been in command of this body long enough to know that you have to keep it in good condition. The roof of the hotel crumbles and then there is a second crash as a huge portion of bricks and wooden slats collapse to the ground. You can hear moaning and crying from the twitching mass of rubble. There is a grunt of exertion and Mrs Xi forces the roof of her lobby desk through a from beneath a heap of brick. Her face is scratched and bleeding and her clothes are town, but she is almost completely unharmed. She turns to you in total shock and gives the briefest of nods. Kicking one brick away she reveals a severed leg. She does nothing more to acknowledge you as people begin to flock over, but her glance says 'you want to get out of here'. And that is what you do. The problem is, you're paying so much attention to the warning lights, you fail to see the man parked opposite filming you fleeing the scene with his recosphere. Sang, you notice Flick's eyes fade as soon as you throw down your scalpel. "Yeah...yeah I guess man...I don't know..." he takes his finger off the trigger and drops the mesh slightly, but he is far from aiming anywhere else and with the force that the Chaos Buddhist's guns pack, he's really still aiming it in your direction. Jin picks at the dead body a little, then wipes his bloody fingerprints on the wall. There's a clanging sound as he raps his knuckles on one of the sub-dermal plates, then whistles appreciatively. -Flick likes you. You can tell. He probably didn't feel great about this job in the first place, but now you've referred to him as a friend it's even harder. What he really wants you to do is kill Jin and his other buddy - he'd probably do it himself but Karma is a bitch. That way he can take the body and leave you in peace without any awkward issues coming up later. But he needs them killed before either of them realize he isn't retaliating and sends an Nmail to John Woo proclaiming him a traitor. Dhana, as you examine the walls of the room you realize that the shack is constructed like a bunker. There is impact-absorbing steel and heavy-duty concrete and the corners are heavily reinforced. Your first thought is that it's to stop people getting out, but closer inspection heavily implies it is to stop people getting in. "There will be others," Dhana says. "You know Flemming from Cortez-Byers? He will be here at some point, though it appears he's running late. And yes, St. Yves. Smiling Cat. A few others. You probably won't know them all, but you'll know some of them." -Carala wants you to sit down and be quiet. It's not that she isn't friendly, but she's professional. Ideally you would all have turned up at once and exactly on time and then you could have spoken to each other instead of hers. The last thing she wants is to get caught in terrifying awkward small talk with the queen of awkward, Dhana. -The most expensive things she is carrying is the key to a speedboat harbored nearby.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 18:51 |
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Flemming, you hear a gentle sniffling, then there is another dull pulse of blue light - another empty narcostab. Slowly, painfully slowly, a woman crawls out from beneath the bed, her eyes watching you with wide hesitation. Pity takes precedence over practicality as Flemming nods slowly. "I'll do it." he says. Flemming will give her a boost up. I'll deal with the Nmail later. LordZoric fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2012 around 19:53 |
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 19:51 |
|
|
Sang You get to know a guy when you take care of him. Sang's taken care of Flick before, on multiple occasions, and now Sang can read Flick like a book. Flick's not going to be a problem anymore. That just leaves two more. "Flick, chill. Everyone's a bit hosed up right now. Let me get us some stabs." Sang goes to a fridge near the wall and grabs a few tubes, two wrapped in red tape, and two wrapped in blue. "Here, I got a few shots of Bliss's special. I helped him out a while back and let me tell you, this is some prime poo poo. Enjoy, fuckers." Sang prepares the shots and gives Jin and the other one redshots, leaving two blueshots for him and Flick. The blueshots actually do have Bliss's special. It is some prime poo poo. The redshots are loaded with a prototype neurotoxin Sang's been working on. It'll take out a dummy, right quick. Act Under Fire:9 I don't know if a roll is necessary but Act Under Fire is always a good generic move to roll against.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 21:49 |
|
|
Morning* * could always count on Nevermind to do the rational thing, the smart thing. It helped him out of more trouble than he could physically remember. It was great when she had *'s back and even greater when he needed to get her off it. Real easy to read, real easy to work with and work over. He found it endearing, in a robotic sort of way. "Right then, I need you to keep a straight face for this one," * got out of bed, his wiry, off-color body stinking of sex and looking like death. He stretched, making his sInk tattoos shift and move. With each twist and flex, the markings on his body formed new scenes of debauchery and licentiousness. Nevermind took it all in stride, a slight tremor in the hand holding her gun the only betrayal of her inner feelings. "I always keep a straight face." * cleared his throat; the sub-dermal aural enhancements all musicians and talent scouts worth their jingle had would easily pick up the 'bullshit'. Nevermind knew it, * knew it. That was the point. He went up to the door. "You still there, love?" He heard the sound of a wrist-mounted autocannon unfurl and spool up; it wasn't cheap. Delta-grade. He'd landed some real money moll. "How 'bout you knock once for yes, don't shoot for no." A smooth, pearl-white ceramic fist smashed through the door, blew it clean off the hinges. The razorgirl stomped into the room, cooling vents hissing with each step. Two BSoD blue eyes scanned the room for escape routes and trajectory vectors, before locking on target. On * and Nevermind. "You go fish-eyed when yer tracking multiples," * hitched up his boxers to accentuate his package. "I find that so loving hot." "Where's Omar and Baz?" Nevermind said, feet already set in firing stance. "Priority target acquired." The razorgirl's autocannon began to whine. "Whoa, B.B.!" * said, "You don't want to splatter me Oracle of Saffos all over the pretty...whatever the gently caress's on these walls." One of B.B's eyes swiveled out like a chameleon, the other stayed fixed on Nevermind. "Oracle of..." "Y'know, Saffos. Of Lesbos," * laced his fingers together, making sure to do it slow and steady, not trigger any sensory overrides. "Girl on girl pleasure." B.B's cooling vents hissed all at once. "I-I do not have the proper-" "There are ways around tha'" * laughed. "I am not a lesbian and even if I was, I wouldn't want to do it with a cyborg! Nevermind hissed subvocally. "The gently caress is wrong with you?" The whining resumed, then intensified; both * and Nevermind could hear the whirr-click of hollowpoints being loaded into chambers en masse. B.B. was locked on to the both of them again, they'd be Swiss cheese in centiseconds. "loving hell. * subvoced. I cannot let myself have nice things. Read the sitch. 2d6+1=6: Welp.
|
| # ? Dec 6, 2012 22:43 |
|
|
Flemming, you wince as the woman crawls towards you. She pauses until you offer your arm, then gives a thankful smile. As she climbs into your arms you feel tendrils crawling along your legs as she hoists herself up. In the full light of day her appearance is even more shocking. A long metal leg pushes off of your shoulder and then she is climbing through the hole in the ceiling. She turns and looks down at you and you feel nothing but pity and horror for her. Her eyes shutter close again. "If I help you out...you'll help me, right? You won't just leave me?" She extends a long metal limb which hisses and twitches through bio-engineered power. You can see tract marks covering a great deal of the majority in her pale, wet flesh. You want to help her...but you have a delivery to make What do you do? Sang, the Chaos Buddhists actually relax once you're out and moving. They keep a close eye on you as you walk over to the refrigerator, but the prospect of fresh narco-stabs makes their veins twitch. Common consensus is that medicals have all the best narcotics. Jin and his friend exchange an excited glance, but Flick is watching you suspiciously. You grab the four and hand them out. Blue for you and Flick, red for Jin and the other dude. "Hell yeah man, down the hatch!" Jin laughs excitedly, popping the cap and lining the five-point plunger with his skin. "Wait!" Flick commands. He studies you carefully for a minute. "Oh chill the gently caress out Flick," Jin moans. "I'm sure it's safe, check it the guy even has one for himself." "Yeah...yeah he does. Okay then, everyone pass along to the left. Come on you cocks, pass it along." You still have a blue narcostab, but now Jin does too. Flick is now only a couple of seconds away from taking a red shot. He studies you carefully as he lowers it to his skin.... Morning*, last night's date smiles weakly at you, her guns spin harmlessly for a moment, either one capable of launching steams of hot death at any second. Her chameleon-like telescopic eyes twitch left and right. "Honey, you best not be after the tracks," she says. "Because one of us had to pay for the hotel and spend the whole goddamn night indulging this loving pervert, and one of us just turned up for breakfast in bed...guess which one of us is taking the tracks? Believe me honey, if you'd ever slept with him then you'd know just how much I must want them." There is an awkward, pregnant during which Nevermind looks embarrassed and Morning* beams. Razorgirl rolls her eyes. "God, I hope whatever it was that YOU were bargaining for it was worth it. *, Empro Penguin wants his tracks back. You're hip at the moment, that's why he bought you in on his new album, but you were just supposed to sit there and add some like...I don't know, Wisdom? You weren't supposed to start acting like the star. I'm sorry you weren't happy with the studio edit, but that's the master copy and BILLIONS of J have been spent on making it. He wants it back. Last night I tried the carrot approach, this morning it's the stick. Give me the album or I'll ventilate your body." "Nevermind..." a voice whimpers meekly from the open doorway. It's Omar. "We should go man, this girl's got contacts with Black Falcon Security." What do you do?
|
| # ? Dec 7, 2012 00:47 |
|
|
Sang Sang mouths the word "wait" before Flick can inject himself. Flick gives a quick nod, in response. Jin is the first one to slam it home. "Aw poo poo, doc! This stuff really is!" Xu is a second behind. He manages to get out "Mine's not wo-" before collapsing. "gently caress you, Jin." Sang pulls out his Glock and starts shooting. Go Aggro=8 I gave myself +1ongoing to deal with Jin cuz it really is some potent poo poo. This should be -1ongoing for any of Jin's rolls too. Also, Jin's friend get a name right before he dies. It's important. Also, ApocalypseWorld 165. If someone is truly helpless, e.g. took a bullet to the dome, then you can skip Go Aggro and proceed straight to Inflict Harm. Alternatively, a catch-all is something like: Player: I Go Aggro MC: I Inflict Harm (as established) on the NPC. He's dead, what now? dongsbot 9000 fucked around with this message at Dec 7, 2012 around 01:24 |
| # ? Dec 7, 2012 01:15 |
|
|
Seraph "SHOCK WARNING, CHECK FOR INTERNAL FAILURE, SHOCK WARNING, CHECK FOR--" "I know, I know," grunts Seraph, as he finally gets around to silencing the alarm. That pulse mine had been much more destructive than expected; Mama's Capsule Hotel was apparently no more. At least Mrs. Xi had survived, as well as some of the PSFs, going by some of the groaning he'd heard. He told himself that they wouldn't have lived if he hadn't warned them. Hopefully they'd understand? Nevertheless he leaves them another favor, uploading a public message through The Nexus--with everything that could be used to trace back to him scrubbed, of course--that there'd been a terrible incident at Mama's, and could Dr. Wizard's and St. Luke General please hurry and come help. Speaking of doctors, he wonders, wasn't Sang's little alleyway office around here somewhere? He could have sworn that he'd seen the masked street doctor somewhere in one of the alleys close to the hotel. He starts moving a little bit faster, nerves still turned down. Captain Indigo, dongsbot 9000, do either of you mind if Seraph comes over and enters Sang's scenario? I can tie it to an Act Under Fire roll, with the risk being "you get caught in the crossfire", if you'd like. Just let me know.
|
| # ? Dec 7, 2012 01:37 |
|
|
|
| # ? May 24, 2013 15:28 |
|
|
My current goals are to deal with Jin, backstab Flick and restrain him so I can interrogate him about the body and the Chaos Buddhists involvement, and then conveniently have a Decker on hand to Deep Brain Scan him.
|
| # ? Dec 7, 2012 01:51 |
|
