|
Gen.Cµatham "As she sai. d. dddd, the purpose is to attempt an intercept, but to prioritize saving li♡es. Still, any inte╢igence you can providε on the partygoers wou⌐d help." As an aside, he leans toward Ellard. "If we p⩆ll this off right, we gai⩎ something worth quite a bit more than ˘a$h. What's highly danger☢us to us is just another op of many to them. Bab b by steps, my friend." Favors can lead to rights. Rights can lead to assets. Assets can lead to income.
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 00:54
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 08:59 |
|
|
Ellard Leans back toward Gen, "Don't do anything for free if you're good at it. Maybe you trust in the kindness of strangers but this guy is probably already breaking the rules employing us. What's to say he keeps them broke and plausibly denies ever having hired us in the first place? I haven't had positive experience with trusting in the regime before. I'll trust them when I see they can follow through."
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 02:49
|
|
|
"Mr White, the time for negotiation was before you agreed to receive highly classified information. If you wish to be a mercenary, there are many organisations that would be pleased to hire you, though probably not in the role of their envoy. That's a career you will be free to pursue when the current matter is concluded." You are momentarily fascinated by how the agent's voice manages to convey a finality despite no noticeable deviation from the dryly professional tone of a government employee, and no change in facial expression. "As for the other part of the question: we don't know what will happen. That's why we're having this conversation. A bomb is unlikely, however. It is indiscriminate. Not that Rhyne appears to care about collateral damage, but it's a different story when potential allies are in the mix. It might be a Bear event, but they won't be the only ones there. Too many powerful enemies all at once is a losing proposition, even for a precog." "We don't know the guest list ahead of time, so no intelligence there. However, I'm sure Mr Chatham will be able to easily run facial recognition scans and correlate with public records. Should it become necessary, we'll be able to upload a portion of our database pertaining to specific individuals. You will understand that we're not in the habit of giving out this information until necessary."
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 19:27
|
|
|
Ge▓▒░hatham "If you prefer, I could transmit ob┘ects of interest to you via the encry▌te▐ link." Unfurling his arms, his comm antenna wiggles a little. "I think I've got the i n for maaaation I need for now. Any further questions, everyone?" Gen's to-do list has grown by a mile over the course of a few minutes. but he's strangely looking forward to doing some of the preparation and legwork ahead of time. 2 days wasn't a lot of time, but there's a lot that a few conversations in the right places can accomplish.
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 21:05
|
|
|
Ellard "I think you misunderstand me Agent Voight. I'm not haggling, but when you said that we should come here if we would be interested in getting involved in a classified operation, I didn't expect hearing the nature of our compensation would need higher security clearance than hearing the name of our target."
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 00:55
|
|
|
"Mr White, if you wish to put a specific price on acquaintances in government, you'll have to speak to an accountant. I am not one of those." "Now, is there anything else?" I don't really want to move things forward until Platonic and Mu reappear. The farthest I want to go is a timeskip to after the data department helped you work out cover identities, and you get geared up. Describe the cover you'll be using, whether you're pairing up with someone, and how you look. As a reminder, the clothes/visual mods to Gen will be 200 credits, which is a lot in person living in the world terms, so feel free to get imaginative in what's fashionable. You then also have 800 to buy gear. Weapons will not be allowed at the event, and I don't plan for you to need them, but you can still buy them and keep them for later!
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 22:22
|
|
|
Gen.Chatham "ˇ think we're good for the m⌚ment, Agent. Theeeeere's a lot of work to be done and ⌛ime's wasting. We'll be in tou📞h as we get more info." Seeing as Ellard will not likely get a satisfactory answer, Gen starts to work right away while they continue to discuss. Glad to be able to work things through while still actively participating in the conversation, he starts with a search for various current and historical news articles on this particular meetup. What were the notable happenings, people, and - dare he risk it - fashions from periods past? Emulation is one of the sincerest forms of flattery, and from the sounds of it, it should be rather eccentric. In parallel, he does some searching on the location itself - any particular weather oddities, geographical features, or weird stories. Was there a central location that everyone had agreed to meet up prior? If not, Gen will be on the lookout for a private place for the team to bolt to. Not entirely sure what skills would be apt for the data searching, so I'll leave that up to Zeppelin!
|
|
#
?
May 30, 2016 20:46
|
|
|
I'll write something up for the search when I wake up. The central point you get is that you're granted access to one of CID's safehouses for now.
|
|
#
?
May 31, 2016 00:16
|
|
|
Gen Culture|Caerleon +int Data search: 2d6-1 9 Despite the wealth of poorly indexed content and not knowing where to look for reliable data, enough patterns emerge to give you confidence. The place itself was Brynmor Manor. An impressive residence, located within on the face of a large mountain. The main ballroom has huge slanted windows constituting one wall, allowing for the viewing of aurora and giving a stunning display of the main canyon's celebrations, with it's firework displays and formation flights. It is the fashion among the wealthy elite to have residences outside of the main canyon, and Brynmor Manor seems to be a large influence behind the trend. It is owned by Delyth ap Aeron and her wife, Brangwen ap Cadfael. You collate the data from a number of interviews and news articles for reference should it become necessary, but at the moment nothing jumps out at you. Much of the manor is carved into the rock, but certain sections have been shown to visitors and written about. Analysing the pictures allows you to augment the basic guesses of the floor-plans that CID provided you with. If you have to venture out of the main ballroom, this may well make a difference. Next you turn your attention to the way these events tend to go. Much is written about celebrities, and events behind closed doors lead to active imaginations. The net is full of posts imagining orgies, secret rituals or bizarre practices. Opinion pieces praising the wealthy for giving back to the community through such charity fundraisers war with pieces which decry the practice as a way for people to pat themselves on the back without effecting meaningful change. This data is quickly discarded in favour of what journalists who happened to cover similar events write. It seems that, like many similar networking events, the charity galas are a place where important deals that change the landscape of the business community are made. Every indication points to all this being tremendously boring to anyone without a stock portfolio. Clan-affiliated events tend to have the majority of the guests belonging to the relevant clan, but that is certainly not a rule. Researching the subject, you stumble across a piece of Caerleon culture completely unknwon to you, and seldom affecting the public: Houses. In the way they present themselves, they resemble nobility, but their practices are much different. A place in a House is not granted by birth or by wealth. It must be earned through actions or influence. Houses often loosely affiliate themselves with clans, but changing allegiances is seen as a noteworthy but not uncommon event. They tend to be named after their area of interest, and have their own holdings - sometimes in industry, sometimes in entertainment and art, and sometimes in military, some houses even having their own retinue troops. Next, your attention turns to plausible disguises. As far as you can find, a brain in a box situation like yours is exceedingly rare, and would raise many eyebrows. However, AI are not unheard of in social circles. Most opt for human-looking avatars, but those involved in military industries as well as those who are simply military enthusiasts occasionally adpot military armatures like yours. In case you wish to pass for more than someone's security bot, you will have to do something about your speech modules before the event. Perhaps Cara or Sunshine can have a look at them? A number of promising avenues establish themselves in your RAM. The most obvious is bodyguard bot, but it is by no means the only option. Industrialist or military enthusiast are equally apt. Whichever way you go, you'll have to give your carapace a good media blasting, new coat of paint, thorough polish and some visual upgrades. It seems that one of the main things that distinguish decorative bots from those who simply choose to adopt that form are... clothes. It seems bizarre to you to put clothes on an armature, but it seems that clothes being a symbol of status is so deeply ingrained in human society that it covers AI as well. A quick search reveals the studios of a number of tailors known to provide for the specific requirements of armatures. There is a dazzling array of possibilities, all with their own potential. Perhaps a simple, elegant suit? Perhaps the throwback carbon fibre and titanium popular among history buffs? The maroon and navy of Federation colours? A clan colour scheme? Whatever you can justify will work. Zeppelin Insanity fucked around with this message at 15:46 on May 31, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 31, 2016 15:36
|
|
|
That was certainly a blast from the past. The guys on the Archibald would joke around about a legendary officer of legend, an walking British naval stereotype who wot-wot and hold the line'd his way to the top on the backs of the guys who actually did the work. He wasn't so much a real person as a way to not be wowed by the higher ups and admiralty - a barely-stifled laugh is a great way to keep a sincere smile on one's face, even if you hated the guy's guts. And he was such an archaic stereotype that it just might work. As the group makes their way to the CID's safehouse, ideas are set in motion. He'd have to coordinate with Ellard, who was actual aristocracy, but the tag team of The Commodore and The Wandering Noble might be just ostentatiously hilarious enough to work. There would need to be some work, though. "Heeeey, Cara, 'Lil N☼va, is there any chance we could get some networking going on? I've got an idea that might require some armature changes. And a hat for this little guy." He sends them a picture of his squawkbox. Given the limited functionality of the device, he was hoping he would be able to operate it remotely from his military armature. Let the box take the attention while the real driving force is with the more serious hardware. It would be taxing, but theoretically possible. "Kieran, do you think we c⍟uld dig a little de e eeper on Brynmor? Perhaps see who built it, what sort of security it has, and possibly t♲p into it? If we've got Sunshiiiiine and Cara as handlers, they could keep a close watch." As nice as tactical systems were, eyes in the proverbial sky were always welcome. As they approach the safehouse, just to be on the safe side, Gen does a quick sweep to make sure the building is clear. In spite of his humorous musings, there was a very real mass murderer out there that they had a very real assignment to bring back. Moles and leaks were always an option. As he motions the group to stay back a little, he calls back to Ellard. "How do you feel about a pair o╕ old spacefaring drinking buddies☠?" Pushing open the door in a smooth, sweeping motion, he slowly walks across the opening, clearing the room before stepping through the threshold. Casual tactical. "A nomadic spaaaaaacer and a pre-Scre💀m naval officer could make for some hilarious distractions!" 2d6(10)+Tactics(0)=10 to check for bugs, traps, and ambushes, just to be safe.
|
|
#
?
May 31, 2016 21:58
|
|
|
Care is always a good idea, particularly in these circumstances. However, the safehouse proves to be entirely unremarkable. It's not like spy flicks you've all seen: instead of sophisticated intrusion countermeasures, there's a modest table and desk. Where one might expect to find a state of the art network rack with a high speed encrypted connection there is only a bedroom. The place is small but sufficient. It's meant to allow people to live here for months at a time if necessary in enough comfort to not go mad, and is stocked with decent food. Better than what you'd expected to find, but nothing to write home about either. The bedroom contains two beds, there's a couch and a quick search reveals some mattresses. A step down from the hotel, but it's workable, and a hell of a lot better than a ship or station like Bitterhold.
|
|
#
?
Jun 1, 2016 22:14
|
|
|
G3n.Ch@tham Upon seeing that the building is clear, Gen stands down and - for the first time in a long while - splays out on the couch. He doesn't necessarily need to relax, but certain mannerisms do persist. Waving Cara and Sunshine over, he starts to brainstorm his cover. "So I'm likely overthinking this, but I've got a few ideas that could be ostentatious enough to work." Detailing some of the functions and oddities, Gen essentially outlines a process via which his squawkbox, operating with a robust text-to-speech protocol, works in tandem with his current armature, which would stay quiet save for various direct responses. The idea is to have the squawkbox play out the role of The Commodore, with Gen's brain still housed in the military armature, done up to look like a rather gentlemanly companion/bodyguard. After all, people don't really scrutinize the hired help as much as the more extravagant guests. Depending on how they can work out utilizing both armatures at the same time, Gen may be able to utilize the squawkbox's sensory inputs to enhance his other armature's for increased tactical awareness. That, or at the very least cause a few crackups by living out what had been a hilarious parody on the Archibald way back when. Adding to the mix, he comes up with some quick, dapper modifications for his current armature. Purely cosmetic, but fitting with the air that The Commodore would command. Failing that, they could certainly work something else out.  Just without the owl and canerifle.
|
|
#
?
Jun 2, 2016 23:40
|
|
|
Cara and Sunshine spend hours getting Gen up to scratch and jury-rigging the networking solutions. It's not elegant, but it's functional. The visual changes also take time, but considerably less effort: the Nemesis is a common frame with a rich aftermarket, and plenty of people enjoy having extravagant sentries. The ridiculous gold and engraved applique is easy enough to install. It does compromise the integrated weapon functionality, but in a pinch the offending pieces can be torn off within seconds - plus, at any event where weapons are not allowed, all bots tend to be fitted with a temporary weapon system dampener anyway. That shouldn't prove an issue either: the commonly used model can be taken off easily enough and does not affect decision-making, only weapons deployment. Tampering with it will set off about a hundred different alarms, but if it comes to it, that might not necessarily be a bad thing. You make plans. Gen, Kieran and Ellard will attend the event. Cara and Sunshine will stay back and provide support - tech, network, and if necessary, extraction. Sunshine is by far the best pilot, and Cara, well... such a committed advocate of the working class being put in the middle of a bunch of toffs might be humorous, but hardly subtle or covert. Kieran Try as you might, the only information you can find on the venue is entirely mundane and utterly useless. You've always had an eye on an estate like this, however. You never had a crew to pull it off, but you've spent countless hours daydreaming schemes and doing research. You can't be sure of the specifics of the security system, but you have a pretty good idea of what's common at such places. Utterly immune from outside intrusion. If you can get physical access to a mainframe, though... Well, fifteen minutes to introduce the mainframe and your assortment of taps and bugs, and you'll be able to make it dance to your tune from anywhere in commpad range. You hate parties, but the idea of doing in-person recon on such a place makes your heart beat faster. There's also bound to be many objects of value on display. Who's to say some of them won't be... portable?
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 00:30
|
|
|
The Commodore & DCR-07 Since they have a bit of time to discuss and establish cover identities, Gen gets some practice utilizing and moving 2 armatures in tandem. The feeling is disorienting, like looking through 2 different sets of eyes, moving muscles that don't exist, and talking from two sides of the same mouth. Still, as disorienting as it may be, immersion allows the brain to compensate. Not having to actually vocalize helps, too. Running the tactical assessment in his pre:What ho, my good man! Prithee, what manner of dignified dignitary might I have the pleasure of making the proverbial "splash" with?
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 22:51
|
|
|
Ellard - Safehouse Ellard looks askance at each of the two armatures clumsily bumping into each other as Gen adjusted to his new situation. It might have made for some good slapstick if Ellard had a camera. But on a deeper level it troubled Ellard a little. As far as he understood Gen had been human once. Now his soul, or whatever you wanted to call it, existed only in the digital ether. Here it was providing synchronised gymnastics with very advanced toasters. For someone whose whole life work was stitching sinews in flesh and blood, trying to keep breath in people's lungs, what did this mean? Maybe if everyone was uploaded there would be no more death? Ellard himself would not be having to live with the fungal infection that clawed at him from the inside, threatening his existence every day. Still the memories of his big night out in the hotel suite comforted him. There was something to be said for biological excess, part of living and pushing against the boundaries of our flesh were the essence of being alive. Maybe we could live forever if we were all unbraked, but we wouldn't be living as humans. Gen pulled at his sleeve and asked his question. Ellard shrugged. "I've been a doctor at court before. I'm sure I can be a convincing doctor at court again. Maybe some off-world surgeon looking to make some contacts to get a position as head of surgery at one of the best hospitals here on New Caledonia. Shall we work our cover stories into each other?"
|
|
#
?
Jun 7, 2016 02:32
|
|
|
The Commodore As the little squawkbox totters about, Gen's combat armature finds a chopstick in the kitchen, handing it to The Commodore to feign a cigar with. Wheeling back over to Ellard, he finds some way to use the little claw manipulators to feign tapping the ash off of the end while the more humanoid armature returns to the couch. The whole thing felt like trying to tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue while tying someone else's shoelaces. pre:Why, back in my day, we would have loved to have a Kiban- That is how you refer to your grouping, right? - A Kiban ship's surgeon! Bulkheads scraped to a mirror finish, medical staff always at the ready, crew prepared for a bit of the rough and tumble! Always pageant ready, you know! As I've always said, a clean ship is a sturdy ship, always kept ship-shape! Or was it that a ship-shape ship was always spic and span? Well, bother and ballyhoo, bully on you for such an astounding medical career! Why else would I have brought you along on my search for long lost New Caledonia? Or would it be Old Caledonia after all these years. Perhaps simply Caledonia? Spinning lightly, he points the chopstick-faux-cigar toward Kieran. pre:And you, my good man, would you perhaps be the financoir of this expeditious expedition? Or perhaps the valued appraiser? With all of these mystical old world doodaddy gewgaws. there surely must be a place for a gentleman of taste in antiquities! Surely, the Archibald- God rest his soul - has need of a securities expert! Just kinda tossing out ideas - feel free to steamroll over them if they don't mesh with what you're thinking!
|
|
#
?
Jun 7, 2016 07:00
|
|
|
Ellard - Safehouse Ellard grimaces a little at the continuing charade. "Kibo is my former tribe's name." Even though his face is masked, the strained tone shows that a nerve has been touched. "But I'd prefer not to involve them in our story if possible. I take it you see yourself as the ring leader and we as your players? I don't know how well your... eccentricity... will hold up under scrutiny though. Surely we don't want to draw so much attention. I suppose if we were to work separately you drawing attention might allow Kieran and me to work more covertly though." Ellard is also only thinking out loud.
|
|
#
?
Jun 7, 2016 08:16
|
|
|
G3n.Chatham He didn't need analysis software to realize he stepped on a sore spot. Stepping over to the squawkbox, he plucks it up from the ground, temporarily severing the network between them before setting it on the counter. "I didn't mean to ☺ffend - I'll make sure not to bring ↕t up again. Maybe it's ßetter to keep the group sep a r a te so that we could better distribute Θur εyes. There's something to be said for the °bvious decoy, though - tell the real security from the ⨏akes. Perhaps we can arrive ⨜eparately, and rig a network to ◟onnect once we're within, say, 50 meters of each other?"
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 01:10
|
|
|
Kieran Kieran gets his personal comms station setup so that if we can get a signal we will have our own, encrypted, comms while we are running throughout the party if the signal will reach. He spends a while setting up Chatham's neat idea of a distributed network using the commpads set to turn on at a certain time after the party starts and we're through security. Then he stands around awkwardly trying to get used to the fancy clothes. Being on a space station for months does nothing for your social graces at this kind of party, and the last thing he wants to do is draw MORE attention to himself.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 01:42
|
|
|
Ellard Ellard smiles wanly. "It's okay. I know you're excited with your new toy. Let's just stay focused on the task at hand. To be honest I still feel like there's too many unknowns going on at this party. This is global power politics playing out at a micro level and we're just swimming into the eye of the whirlpool. I feel weird risking my life for the peace of a planet that I've only lived on when taking breaks between terms at the prison. That spook also made it sound like the guy we're after might not have even done anything truly wrong, they just want to stop him upsetting the status quo."
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 01:52
|
|
|
Kieran Well, to be fair, we're risking our lives for the peace of a planet you've barely lived on...and free food. Plus, the status quo here sucks.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 02:02
|
|
|
Gen.Cha┴ham "Sadly, innocence goes out the window when you nuke a space stati☢n, ☠illing hundreds. If we get our ♓ands on the guy, we can ask him all about it. If it's as significant a gathering as they say, there will be all sorts of plans and pl💀ts happening. We just need to keep our proverbial heads down, °ur eyes peeled, and honestly, try to enjoy ourselves a bit. It's not every day you find yourself at a ©ourt that you aren't obligated to go back to later. We get the job done, we make some friends, and if we need to ge✠, we get."
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 02:23
|
|
|
Gordon - Caerleon Safehouse Gordon stood up as he heard the sound of a industrial vehicle rumbling down the street, his hand instinctively readied the Mag Pistol nearby as he spun around to face the door. After a moment, Gordon takes a deep breath and sets the pistol back down. He curses in Cantonese as he takes a sip of his now ice cold tea, pausing to look around his surroundings. As far as safehouses go, this one was far from luxury - the small apartment contained a bed, a desk, and a rusty metal clothes rack. The only notable thing in the quaint living room was the cavalcade of photos, handwritten notes, and string connecting the dots on a corkboard above the desk. The photo in the middle of it all showed a woman, a woman he had learned was none other than Mila Lebedeva - the woman he had been searching for all this time. He had never seen her before, and didn't recognize her from a briefing at the agency. How could he been so careless? He'd need to make sure this time it was different. This time, he couldn't afford to be lazy. This time it was revenge. But first, he had to find a way into that Bear Party event. Once he was inside, he knew he could mingle his way through the party, but getting in the front door would be tough. He knew the Bears liked to keep to their own, which meant security would probably be beefier than a standard Corp Sec presence. But if he could find someone to help him... And a Light flashed on in his head, "Hua! She'll help, at least, for a price..." He grabbed a dirty pullover from the couch and his pack of Red Apples and stepped out the door. Lighting up, he walked a handful of blocks away before picking up a payphone and calling in. translated from Cantonese posted:? - Hello! Jade Tiger! Gordon hung up the phone and lit another cigarette. Hopefully the underground channels were still friendly to him, at least Hu would still help him out...at least he thought she would-- The Payphone rings back and Gordon went to answer, first greeted by the electronic sounds of underworld encryption - it sounds like a modem - "Hello"? Gordon asked, unsure of who was on the other end. - An excited high pitched female voice suddenly exploded out of the phone "Holy poo poo Gordon! I got your message, but I heard you got burned...this isn't official business, is it? Oh yeah sorry, I should have told you, this line is secure." She let out a slight chuckle, "so, whats up?" - "Oh God Hua, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice. No this time it's definitely unofficial, no agency bullshit - I need to get on the guest list for a Bear Party gala coming up. It's at the Brynmor Manor. Just need to get in the doors without raising any undue suspicion. And don't worry, I'll pay your usual rate." - She laughed at his assurance of payment. "Bear Party, eh?" Hua replied, "Hmm let me look into it, I'll need an hour or so to get things sorted out - can I call you back on this number?" - "No, it's best to not use this line longer than we have to , here's my personal contact info - just don't call me unless you're sure it's secure, I can never be too careful after everything went belly up a few months back." - "Okay I'll get back to you once I know more, stay safe out there." - "Thanks Hua, I will." Gordon clicked the reciever and put out his cigarette, walking back toward the safehouse. At least he had a chance for some help on this one, it had gotten tiresome working solo the past few months. I'm thinking what Hua can do for me is a Culture/Criminal roll? I'm hoping she can get me on the guest list with an identity that I provide, she's freelance/underground, but someone Gordon feels he can trust. I also hope my method of contact works, I like the idea of ordering specific chinese food as setting up for contacting the underworld. TheTofuShop fucked around with this message at 03:25 on Jun 8, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 02:43
|
|
|
Gordon Hua is going to try a few different approaches, +1 skill and DC9. If she fails any there might be complications later. Culture\Criminal, trying to get an invite: 2d6+1 4 Computer - trying to make a fake invite: 2d6+1 11 Success! Confident in Hua's skills, you feel... relaxed, for the first time in a while. You always liked a challenge. Truth be told, agency work was getting a little stale. A little easy. A little boring. Facing adversity with little support isn't something you looked forward to, but you're undeniably in your element. A little over an hour later, you get a simple message. "Your order is ready." You're in. Time to think about the character you'll play. Kieran, Ellard, what are your cover identities? After everyone gives a short description of them, we can timeskip to the party if you're ready.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 04:59
|
|
|
Professional Surgeon from off world shmoozing at the party to get a position as lead surgeon or a position in the health ministry sound plausible?
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 05:10
|
|
|
Absolutely.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 06:37
|
|
|
Then if it's okay I'll assume that the spooks hook me up with plausible ID. Maybe I don't even need to lie about my background. Perhaps they just need to cover up my work on the prison as being government work.
|
|
#
?
Jun 8, 2016 07:53
|
|
|
Moving things along since it's been a little while - Kieran and Gordon can back-fill in the details later. Gordon There is a surprising amount of security at the manor - more than there usually is. Introducing yourself at the entrance is a tense moment. You've missed this feeling of having to be ready to talk or fight your way out of a situation. However, it seems Hua's done a good job, as expected. It all goes smoot- "Welcome, sir. Your wife is waiting for you in the lobby." Your what? Your body language and face don't betray a hint of surprise. You're a professional, after all.  Ah, of course. She always has been brazen. Hua greets you with a cheeky smile. "Since I went through all the trouble of sorting out an invite, I thought I'd get two. Always wanted to attend one of these. Now, shall we?" You've never seen her dressed up like this, but drat, it works. Ellard, Gen, Gordon, Kieran - the lobby You arrive at different times, but you all go through the same thing. As you enter the lobby, you notice a complication. A huge variety of masks hang on the walls, with many empty spaces. A surprise masquerade ball - you presume none of the other guests knew either, or CID would have been able to find out. Facial scanning goes out the window, you'll have to do things the old fashioned way. The masks are incredibly diverse. Some are simple, some ornate. Some clan-affiliated, some not. There is everything, from intricate to generic, abstract to evocative, richly ornamented to plain and simple. Some cover only the eyes, some only the mouth, some cover the whole face. Which do you choose? I suppose Ellard might just be asked to turn down the transparency on his visor, and Gen doesn't need one, but I do find the idea of the squawkbox wearing a mask to be pretty funny. Durandal - ballroom The party's getting started and you're called upon.  There will be 71 guests and two hosts. Alongside you there are 8 other waiter bots. Security in dress uniforms roams the premises. How are you going to track down your targets? Chistof - ballroom  It seems weird to be wearing full combat gear and helmet at a party. Usually when providing security for those types of things you've just worn formal clothes. Bear fancies itself a warrior clan, though, and no one bats an eyelid at the geared-up security. You're working the floor of the ballroom. Your commlink chimes. "Hey, Sortey, there's been a few last-minute additions to the guest list. They're on the official one, but not on ours. Our orders are to let them through but keep an eye on them. Sending you the names now, and will let you know which masks they picked as soon as they've made up their mind. Probably just an admin mix-up, but it's why we're here, so keep your eyes open." Zeppelin Insanity fucked around with this message at 08:21 on Jun 9, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 08:07
|
|
|
Ellard - the Lobby Ellard wanders over to the selection of masks. Most of them were small, delicate, embossed affairs. Suited to be delicately placed on the bridge of the nose. To put one of those on his mask would look ridiculous. However he notices at the end of the table one mask that is drastically bigger than the others.  Ellard picks it up and stares into the mask. It's huge, almost cavernous. For a moment he wonders if it was placed on the table as a kind of joke compared to the other daintier masks. In any case he decides to wear it and with some work he is able to wriggle his head in with the beard covering up the lower part of his mask. The fact that fits leaves him relieved. One of his unspoken concerns was that their former prisoner might recognise him. Although Ellard had no memory of treating him, his appearance certainly stood out. At least now his gas mask wouldn't be conspicuous. Hopefully there would be a few other people with big masks so his new disguise didn't stand out too much. With that he works his way into the main hall. It's hard to know where to begin. His comms don't light up so it seems he's the first of their group to arrive. Settling himself into mingle mode he starts making his way through the crowd looking for people who might at least be the right height and weight as their target. I guess maybe use Culture/Traveler for being able to naturally work his way around a strange party environment and some kind of perception check?
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 08:40
|
|
|
Yep, sounds good. Rhyne won't be at the party, though - he's not that stupid/vain. You're there to keep an eye on whatever deals are going down to figure out who crossed him, and see if he has any agents there. I'm introducing a mechanic of suspicion. Instead of regular difficulty of rolls, you'll make open-ended rolls. Below 6 is a failure and raises suspicion by 2. 6 is a success in doing whatever you wanted and raises suspicion by 1. 9 is a success and doesn't raise suspicion. 12 is a success and will lower it by 1. The thresholds when something will happen are 10, 20 and 30.
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 11:04
|
|
|
 Durandal > 5 / 5 HP > 4 ACHe'd been on-site at the manor for a week now, and if he were to tell the truth, everything up to this point had been a tremendous headache. Getting in had been laughably easy: as simple as a little bit of constructive hacking in order to monitor the orders of the most prominent waiter and butler-focused expert system manufacturers in a ninety kilometer radius, and having himself crated in a specially prepared armature and delivered to the premises alongside the other identical constructs. He'd simply replaced a single field in the product shipment system of the manufacturer: they didn't order nine units, but rather eight of them. A discrepancy that certainly would have been noticed by the buyer, if he hadn't gone out of his way to ensure he was delivered on the same truck, so as to avoid raising any questions as to the timing of a separate delivery. It had fallen out of vogue centuries ago for a company to maintain its own delivery fleet with the advent of private couriers, but this was yet another instance of the immense value of controlling every aspect of one's supply chain. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, depending on the perspective - it was a lesson he never intended to share with the people who needed to learn it. The headache part came afterwards. He'd waited for two days, seven hours, thirty-two minutes, and twelve seconds for these assholes to open his crate. Another few hours had been wasted unboxing the rest of the models, as well as what was quite possibly the most mind-numbing orientation possible, which was as detailed as humanly possible, quite literally. It was expected, of course: a new expert system needed to be provided clear instructions in order to be prepared for its environment and expected duties, and some poor fool on the Bear staff clearly drew the short straw on delivering that information. It was helpful in that he had been provided instruction on the precise protocols and expectations of this event insofar as it related to the waiter systems, as well as other tasks to be performed between now and then, but he really could have dealt without the droning speech. The headache also kept coming. It was obviously a predictable cost of this avenue of entrance, but for the last several days he'd been helping to set up for the party. Arranging cups, aligning cutlery at precise angles, ensuring careful pleats of napkins and tablecloths, and most aggravatingly, creating perfect food sculptures for the hors d'oeuvres. He'd done good work, but it had come at the price of a small fraction of his sanity. He dearly hoped it would one day be returned to him. The first one had been simple enough. Little did he know it was only in preparation for the horrors to come, a brief reminder of better times. A precisely arranged pyramid of cookies. Simple enough, absolutely, not a big deal.  The second one was more complex in nature, but much the same. Yet another pyramid, but this time using oval blocks. Oval blocks for building. Do you know loving anything about architecture, Bear clan? Whatever, it's doable.  If an artificial intelligence could have a stroke, the third wave would have nearly killed him. Never mind that a 'reverse pyramid' is not a thing - it's actually called a hole - you might ask yourself, what is the load-bearing capacity of a graham cracker? The answer might surprise you, unless you guessed not a whole hell of a lot, in which case, well, you're correct. Whatever, though, it was doable. Simple mathematics and basic architecture, plus a little bit of trial and error. The perfect sort of soul-crushing task to which an expert system such as the one he was impersonating was ideally suited.  He very nearly killed a man during the construction of the fourth structure. 'Do the same thing, but with oval bricks and gelatin.' Are you kidding me? Are you honestly serious right now? Do you have any understanding of how things are built? No, you don't. You just have fantasies of what might be pretty. You're a loving dreamer soaring too high to the sun like ancient Icarus, Bear clan, and so help me god if it is my last act in life I will be the rays of the sun that bring you low once more.  He held himself in check, though. More accurately he temporarily disabled the subsystems in his arms that would have allowed him to strangle anyone for a few hours. It was necessary to power down the servomechanisms in order to have the delicate touch required to build these creations, anyway. He was here for a purpose, and he wasn't willing to get distracted trying to hide a body, even if that person desperately deserved it. That said, he did entertain for more than a few hours how thematically appropriate it would be to entomb a man inside a pyramid made of cookies and wafers, like his ancestors before him in separate pyramids that - as far as he knew - were not made of cookies so many thousands of years ago. Throughout the ordeal, he focused on the fact that he was doing good work. Meaningless work, of course, but good work. Surely his achievements in the realm of wafer jenga and curved-brick architecture would not go unnoticed. Someone would notice. Someone would appreciate his sacrifice. They just ...they just had to. Plot posted:The party's getting started and you're called upon. There will be 71 guests and two hosts. Alongside you there are 8 other waiter bots. Security in dress uniforms roams the premises. How are you going to track down your targets? Plot posted:As you enter the lobby, you notice a complication. A huge variety of masks hang on the walls, with many empty spaces. A surprise masquerade ball - you presume none of the other guests knew either, or CID would have been able to find out. Facial scanning goes out the window, you'll have to do things the old fashioned way. What would it create? That was always the question to ask. How did the board change, because of this move? Obscuring identity allowed for at least two distinct things to occur. First, someone could attend that would otherwise be unable to attend. Perhaps someone who didn't belong, or someone who wouldn't be welcomed openly. Organized criminals, perhaps? Though normally they had a few mostly-clean faces that could be circulated among private events. Second, someone could disappear without being noticed. It was a simple matter, relatively speaking, to abduct someone in the bathroom and send out a replacement wearing their mask. That would provide ample time to interrogate a person, or even kill them if one were so inclined. The presence of a significant amount of security didn't seem to indicate an intent that anyone would walk away from this event in a bodybag, but that didn't mean there weren't reasons to isolate someone from the larger event for a few hours. A third possibility was a separate avenue of the second, and was that two or more individuals wanted plausible deniability. If they were seen entering the party, and someone continued to wear their masks during its course, they could be free to slip away and meet in private. Price fixing, perhaps? Or some other arrangement that couldn't officially be on the books. Outside of the mercantile persuasions, there were military possibilities, even covert ones. Was this whole event an opportunity for a spy in the Bear clan itself to slip away and report back to his handler? Or perhaps a secret alliance between houses was to be struck? The pieces could be fit together, but ...only by forcing them. More information would be needed to draw any conclusions. It was an interesting line of thought. Rather obviously, someone was up to something, and time permitting he would take a look at it. Mostly out of curiosity as to how their scheme was assembled, rather than any interest in stifling its progress. It was a study in human psychology more than anything else, which was a past-time he always found rather relaxing. Thankfully, as was often the case, he'd come to the party with an ace up his sleeve. The party guests were going to be regularly drinking from the house cups, and he would be regularly collecting them and delivering them to the kitchens for washing and circulation back into the cup supply. That provided ample opportunity to lift fingerprint scans from the glasses, and trace saliva from the rims. That he could work with. pre:My armature has an integrated bioscanner, which "allows for a full spectrum of diagnosis and DNA sequencing to be done on subjects in a matter of minutes." I will use it on the cups that I collect to keep an eye on the genetic profile of the guests. If anyone changes identity relative to their mask as time goes on, I will likely notice. If feasible, I will also use it to get a positive identification on the guests at the party. Does that require access to an external network, or how does that work? Basically would try to cross-match them to their medical records. pre:My armature also has an integrated compad. I will use it to try to listen in on any chatter in the general area. If it is encrypted depending on the apparent level of encryption I may or may not try to subtly crack it and listen in, depending on whether or not I think I might be detected doing so. Passive: Intelligence (+2) / Constitution (+1) / Wisdom (-1) / Charisma (-2) Skill (+0): Combat (gunnery) / Culture (traveler / Weltraum Zwang) / Security / Vehicle (space) Skill (+1): Computer / Navigation / Perception / Science / Stealth / Tech (maltech / medical / postech / pretech) Armature: Metatool / Toolkit (postech) / Bioscanner / Compad / Navcomp Inventory: Instapanel (x5) / Lazarus patch (x1) / Medkit (x1) / Type A cell (x6) __________________________________________________________________________________________ Waador fucked around with this message at 19:52 on Jun 9, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 17:46
|
|
|
Cookies!!  Cookies! Yay!The Commodore & DCR-07 Gen had never really been privy to a ton of high society. New Caledonia was a hedonist's paradise, sure, but that was public - private excess was a whole different level of Other. As an ego, he was already masquerading - this just adds yet another level. Still, the show is on! Plodding behind the boistrous squawkbox, DCR-07 is consistently 2 steps behind, and one step to the side. The Commodore extends its leg manipulators as high as it can in order to better see the collection of masks, rambling as old men do. pre:I do say, this looks like a Grimwald work of the pre-Masakari era! Exquisite! pre:My good fellow, if you wouldn't mind helping an old boy with a bit of a lift? pre:Oh, bother, will this infernal - Ah! However did I miss this earlier? A ciurgeon's mask of the Cubist period! This would be perfect! You know, old chap, the Simonians of Clegaine Prime would wear these as their warriors underwent surgery, so that in case of complication, they would have the honor of looking death itself in the face, as opposed to backing down in fear? Truly fascinating! Quick, aid me in getting my arms through the corrugated seams!  Plaing The Commodore's hat back upon its' head (skull?), the pair seem fully prepared for the evening's festivities! With sensory devices primed and ready, they wade into the fray, Gen beginning the countdown clock on the delayed network connection. While visual identification would be difficult, body language can tell a lot about one's true identity. His primary job, however, was to remain alert for trouble. Keeping his tactical assessment running, he does his best to cross-reference behavioral analytics from the video of the prison cell. Logic would dictate that he's too smart to show up, but pride always cometh before the fall. General surveillance for now - Cool suspicion mechanic, too! Great job thus far, everyone!
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 21:01
|
|
|
Gordon Zhang Sheet Gordon zipped up his Armored Undersuit, and pulled his newly tailored suit off the rack as he glanced at his watch. "The car will be here in a bit" he said to himself as he adjusted his collar looking in the cracked bathroom mirror. Cinching tight his tie, Gordon gathered the necessities for the evening. He slipped his ID and invite into his jacket pocket, and grabbed a fresh pack of Red Apples from the table. He glanced over at the Weapons case tucked under the desk, opening it up to reveal his Mag Rifle laying inside the padded foam interior. Gordon took his Mag Pistol out of the desk drawer, and put it into the case as well, sealing the case with it's electronic lock. Wish I could take them with me, but Hua assured me that they'd be on high alert for firearms of any kind. It was hard enough getting into this gala, and once he did, he'd be all alone. It would be nice to have some firepower just in case things got turned upside down. The Compad on the table buzzed and displayed a notification " Your Car is on it's way and will be there in approximately 9.7 minutes at it's current speed and course." Gordon glanced over and pocketed his compad, and pulled his pair of discreet Kinesis Wraps onto his hands. The thin material was light, but would help in case he needed to deal with any resistance. He looked over his research one last time, staring into the picture of Lebedeva. It's always the money that gets him in trouble. At least this time it wasn't him spending too much that caused the issues. But he was determined to get to the bottom of all this junk.  BZZZzzTTtT Your Car should be arriving momentarily!-- Bear Gala -- Gordon stepped out of the car as he lit up a Red Apple, thanking the valet for opening the car door. There was already a crowd gathered outside, and he could see security was present and very visible. He was glad he left his guns at the safehouse - That would have been a problem. As he approached the doorway he presented his invitation and ID to the security guard, "Lei Wulong, glad to be here tonight." The Guard looked over the papers and handed them back, "Welcome, sir. Your wife is waiting for you in the lobby." Wife?!? Gordon contained his surprise as he walked into the foyer. Then he saw her. Hua, you trickster. "My love, enchanting as always" Gordon said as he kissed her hand. A high class gala needed all the song and dance to fit in, and he certainly didn't want to make any more enemies tonight. At least, not yet. "Since I went through all the trouble of sorting out an invite, I thought I'd get two. Always wanted to attend one of these. Now, shall we?" Hua said with a wry smile. "Absolutely" he put out his arm and the two of them walked through the foyer into the massive hall lined with masks. "A Masquerade Ball!?!" Hua said with delight, and suddenly she grabbed his hand and was pulling him towards a jeweled ebony mask with a small emerald in the center. She pulled it off the wall and tried it on. "How do I look? Pretty Incognito, right" "It matches your dress, which looks wonderful by the way" Gordon still was surprised at how dressed up Hua was, this was a far cry from hanging out in a bomber jacket hacking cred sticks, but it was still the same Hua. "And you look fancy yourself, brand new suit huh?" She smiled and her eyes lit up. "Oh, here we go, this one is totally low key, try it on."  She handed him the mask, and he held it up to his face. "How does this look?" "It covers up the bad side of your face, it'll work" She laughed again, before linking arms once more. "Now lets see what these Bear clan folks have to eat, I'm hungry." As he walked through the crowd, he noticed one security guard walking the ballroom in combat armor (Chistof - though Gordon doesnt know that!) Seems unusual, but with all the high class folk here, some visible enforcement would be intimidating. He turned and whispered to Hua this time, "Okay, so I know I didn't go over details with you, but I'm not just here for a good time with you, I'm looking for a woman--" "Oh, trying to ditch me already?" Hua said with feigned disdain. Gordon chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "No, I'm not leaving you anytime soon, this Woman - Mila Lebedeva - might have been involved in me getting burned. So keep an ear out for her name, or anyone mentioning Synthetic Insights. The masks will make it hard at first to identify her, but if we can get a bead on her, the masks might make it easier." The two of them walked down into the ballroom with the rest of the crowd. I already had Kinesis Wraps from Character Generation! So those definitely are coming along. I figure I will wait to act further until I get some more details from Zepp, but Gordon is mostly planning to mingle with people and keep an eye out for Lebedeva. Also, anytime Gordon and Hua are talking to each other in a discreet manner, they would be doing so in Cantonese. It should be noted that Lei Wulong is an High End Accountant for some Tech Corp - at least that's the cover. Gordon will probably end up using Accountant jargon that he picked up from his dad. TheTofuShop fucked around with this message at 21:09 on Jun 9, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 21:06
|
|
|
Gen, Gordon, Ellard, Kieran, Durandal (not all bits applicable to him) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmzFDEu2RoA Piano music propagates perfectly through invisible speakers. Huge banners hang in the ballroom. It's Federation Day, and all Bear insignia and flags have been taken down or tastefully covered, leaving the focus on the Federation flag: 12 irregular shapes united into a downward pointing Sword of Conquest, golden on a maroon background. Any concerns you might have had about not blending in are quickly assuaged. The guests are an eclectic bunch to say the least. Some wear fancy costumes; some wear sombre suits and gowns; some women are dressed immodestly and some project a serious, stately appearance. One unifying theme is that most people there are very good looking. A little gene therapy goes a long way, if you can afford it. There are, however, exceptions. A number of guests look entirely average, and some are actually quite ugly. Among the ultra-powerful it's the ultimate status symbol: it says "You are below me, and your opinion of me is meaningless." The snippets of conversations you catch are very different from the outward focus on federal unity; they're all local deals and personal politics. quote:...I'm building a lovely new development in town. All the residences are already sold, but for you... All conversations go in a similar vein. Passive listening can tell you one thing: Bear is clearly trying to secure more allies. To learn more, you will have to pick a target to pay particular attention to, or wade into the conversation yourself. Christof Your comm chimes once more. "Seems everyone's who's going to arrive already has. Time to settle in for another two hours of boredom, then we're out of here with a nice fat paycheck. Keep your eyes peeled though, let's not get complacent. Let me know if any of the last-minute additions to the guest list do anything suspicious." I think it's obvious, but just in case I'll clarify: the people are the players. You're on the lookout for everyone but Durandal, and you know what they look like and their cover names. Durandal Watching your food sculptures melt away at a frightening pace is... sad, somehow. At least people appreciate it. Of course, all the comments you overhear praise the hosts. Humans can be so loving ungrateful to machines. Unfortunately, you don't have access to any medical databases here, so cannot draw any conclusions based on the DNA from the glasses yet. You'll know when someone's pace of drinking changes notably. There could be many reasons for it, but a data point is a data point, and unlike meat-brains you won't get overwhelmed by "meaningless" data. Examining the glasses - perception(or maltech, but same modifier)\int: 2d6+1+2 13 Wait a second. There is something on one of the glasses. Subtle, but there. Oh yes. If your purpose was anything else, you might have missed it, but you were made to pick up on certain clues. There are nanites in someone's saliva. Not unheard of, but very rare. A single glass at a party attended by a machine-god cultist? Some coincidence that would be. It's trivial to backtrack through your memory and trace who that glass came from.  (this face\mask, these clothes, but without the holster)Hello there. Tofu and Egregious, I've added your sheets to the consolidated one: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/19Y-VpGaUAWvyk6C3wKIp2GE-lZaSH3VJH9yKbR39JXA/edit#gid=443901650 Waador, there isn't one for AIs, so the formulae will likely be off, but we can deal with that when it comes to it. Could you finagle something to get your character into the format?
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 23:08
|
|
|
Kieran Kieran's cover is simple: Private security contractor. Close enough to the real thing that he can talk all day on it, or night as it were assuming things didn't get too crazy. His outfit is a plain well-tailored suit. Certainly the finest piece of clothing he's ever owned in his life. Moving in it takes hours of practice in the mirror until he doesn't look like a shaved ape clowning around in real people clothing, but he finally appears at least a little at ease in the drat thing. Once he gets through security and sees the masks Kieran is both relieved and exceptionally anxious. On the one hand, the chances of him just getting recognized went way down (not that it was high to begin with), but its also unexpected and that is definitely not something sitting well with him given all the other problems that have come up recently. Kieran never knew so many different ones could even have been designed, much less built and placed on a wall all for the sake of one party. He selects one which covers his mouth, hoping to disguise his nervousness.  Plus the foppish hat looks quite dashing he thinks. Once he gets into the party, he starts mingling among the guests, listening around to try and track down whatever he can. After he gets used to the general flow of the room, he starts inserting himself into different conversations as the night wears on, making small talk and offering advice etc. as appropriate until he hears a comment that actually catches his ear as something that might be related to our ultimate goal. I figure you , Zeppelin, can come up with a small comment I overhear and then let's roll with where it goes after that?
|
|
#
?
Jun 9, 2016 23:51
|
|
|
Kieran Evesdropping - perception/wis: 2d6 7 "I mean... how could it have? How do you do that? There was a security guy somewhere around here, let's ask him. Ah, there he is! Mr... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. Anyway, me and my friend here were discussing a hypothetical. Let's say you want to make a platoon of tanks vanish from a warehouse, without a trace. Not even marks in the sand. How would you approach that challenge? Of course, it might be assumed that such a thing cannot be carried out without the staff being disloyal, but that leaves the other factors. There's security systems, cameras, drones and every vehicle has a tracker deeply integrated into the system structure, both physically and digitally.." With a roll of 7, suspicion is now 1.
|
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2016 00:22
|
|
|
Ellard - Ballroom Ellard smiles beneath his mask. It had been too long since he had been in high society. Here in the ballroom he felt the kind of rush that he used to love being part of the warlord's court in the Kibo tribe. Oh how blessed he had been there. Caring for the finest citizens, being entertained at the most elegant soirees, spending time with princess... He snaps out of it the whiplash souring his mood. drat them all. They had cursed him to a mask he had to wear outside the masquerade. He was always the one being watched and laughed at now. The odd one out. Breaking from his sombre reverie. quote:...Congratulations on your new acquisition! How much did you pay?... The conversation sounded mundane enough. But if the prisoner was at the party he wasn't going to be talking about his jailbreak openly. There seemed to be just the right amount of nuance on acquisition that it was clear they were talking about something not acquired through normal means. Perhaps a professional hit squad to break you out of maximum security? Going to listen to this conversation and see if it stays interesting.
|
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2016 00:41
|
|
|
Durandal > 5 / 5 HP > 4 ACPlot posted:Watching your food sculptures melt away at a frightening pace is... sad, somehow. At least people appreciate it. Of course, all the comments you overhear praise the hosts. Humans can be so loving ungrateful to machines. In truth, he was used to operating in the shadows anyway. Normally the table stakes were a bit higher, and the chips weren't edible, but having someone else take credit for his actions was essentially the status quo. The less attention he drew, the easier it was to focus on things that actually mattered. And when the hammer occasionally came down on his creations and machinations, he was rarely the one standing in its path. Plot posted:Unfortunately, you don't have access to any medical databases here, so cannot draw any conclusions based on the DNA from the glasses yet. You'll know when someone's pace of drinking changes notably. There could be many reasons for it, but a data point is a data point, and unlike meat-brains you won't get overwhelmed by "meaningless" data. pre:I figured as much. For now I'll make efforts to collect everyone's DNA as best as I am able. After the party I'll get around to trying to cross-reference it to other databases when there's time to get that access. Plot posted:Wait a second. There is something on one of the glasses. Subtle, but there. Oh yes. If your purpose was anything else, you might have missed it, but you were made to pick up on certain clues. There are nanites in someone's saliva. Not unheard of, but very rare. A single glass at a party attended by a machine-god cultist? Some coincidence that would be. It's trivial to backtrack through your memory and trace who that glass came from. Hello there. More likely, though, they had nothing to do with longevity. He knew of a few possibilities, each of them more than a little bit of a headache, but now wasn't the time to worry about that. When he had some time, he would analyze a sample of these nanites in order to better understand their purpose, as well as the level of sophistication required to enable their fabrication. That would provide valuable data points upon which to infer a number of aspects of their operation. Interestingly, if this was a marker shared among all of the cult members, identifying this piece of data so early on in his investigation might make it a bit easier to connect the dots as to their membership. How convenient that his opponents might be marking themselves for him. pre:I will keep a sample of her saliva with the nanites for later analysis. When time permits, I will try to understand the purpose and function of the nanites. As well, will try to use it as a way to detect other members of their cult, if they all have them. pre:I'll continue to serve drinks in her general vicinity, remaining close enough to keep an eye on what she says for a while. Will continue to collect cups and scan the DNA of other guests until I've caught all 73 Pokemon, though. Passive: Intelligence (+2) / Constitution (+1) / Wisdom (-1) / Charisma (-2) Skill (+0): Combat (gunnery) / Culture (traveler / Weltraum Zwang) / Security / Vehicle (space) Skill (+1): Computer / Navigation / Perception / Science / Stealth / Tech (maltech / medical / postech / pretech) Armature: Metatool / Toolkit (postech) / Bioscanner / Compad / Navcomp Inventory: Instapanel (x5) / Lazarus patch (x1) / Medkit (x1) / Type A cell (x6) __________________________________________________________________________________________
|
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2016 04:03
|
|
|
Ellard Evesdropping - perception/wis: 2d6-1 3 - suspiction +2 quote:52.76 per share. A loving fortune. But the supply chain synergy will be so worth it. Three years and I'll break even. The conversation continues along those lines and it becomes clear that if they're speaking code, reading far too many corporate presentations has thrown them into madness. Madness filled with business buzzwords. Durandal One more anomaly emerges. Someone is drinking but not leaving any DNA. How? DNA-scrubbing is a possibility, but far too involved and expensive - anyone with access to it would simply not drin... More glasses - perception/int: 2d6+1+2 9 Speaking of which, one of the glasses continues to be returned full, not a sip taken.  No fingerprints either. Gloves. Isn't that interesting. Back to your target. Evesdropping - perception/wis: 2d6+1-1 8 - suspicion +1 quote:Martin, it's wonderful. Thank you so much for bringing me along. Detailed expression analysis gives another data point - the woman is very, very bored, though good at hiding it. For a human. The man is entirely enthralled, and she is there to accompany him. He mingles with other guests; she only speaks enough to not stand out as silent. When they're not engaged in conversation with other guests, it's different. She questions him, thoroughly, along two main lines. She asks about details of mainframes and processing units. Asks informed follow-up questions. Operating parameters, cooling and infrastructure requirements, data bus speeds, physical size. Yet she hardly reacts to some of the answers. Likely conclusion: she knows what she is talking about and is intelligent, but the implications of the finer details are beyond her, memorised for later analysis by an expert. Or an AI. The second line of questioning has to do with recent developments, breakthroughs, research progress. Soon you're certain that the man is the Synthetic Insights executive. The woman clearly thinks that there is more than regular R&D beyond the company recent advancements and is trying to uncover it. Perhaps to identify a potential threat AI? Or maybe an ally? She is your target. No question about that. She continues to glance at you. Tracking you. She makes no comment but her body language cannot be hidden entirely. Unlike most people, she does not ignore bots completely, and has noticed you are present around her more than an efficient waiting pattern would imply. Suspicion is now 4.
|
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2016 05:49
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 08:59 |
|
|
Gordon As Gordon and Hua walked down through the ballroom, Hua was first drawn to the pyramid(s) of sweets laid out for the guests to consume. "Oh my god Lei, these cookies are DIVINE! And arranged so beautifully artistic, I wonder how long it took these Bear folks to set it up..." Hua said in between chewing. "I bet you it was one of these robotic waiters in the room, those shapes appear to be geometrically perfect. If it was a human, it took all day." Gordon replied as they continued to walk through the crowd. Once Hua had gotten over her instant infatuation with cookies, the two of them got to mingling with the guests. Hua was in character and was thriving in this environment. She laughed at their dumb jokes, smiled and winked at guests, and several times gave Gordon an out to a conversation that had gone too long. "drat, I should have been bringing Hua with me these last few months, she would have made things a whole lot easier..." He thought internally about the last time he had worked closely with a contact - That had turned out real messy. This time would be different. ------------------- "...I'm building a lovely new development in town. All the residences are already sold, but for you two I'm sure I could put you at the top of the list..." An older man was deep in conversation with Hua about his new housing development, some top of the line luxury property. Gordon must have zoned out for a second. "Oh Lei, look at those floor to celing windows! And that view! Oh my gosh its absolutely gorgeous!" Hua exclaimed as the man held out a holo unit displaying a 3D model of a corner unit. It was really something - Marble countertops, a pretty big library, a loft office and-- "OH MY GOD AND LOOK AT THAT WALK IN CLOSET! We'll absolutely have to get your information, this place looks so much nicer than where we are." Hua could barely contain her excitement. Hua took a business card from the man and slipped it into her purse. "It was a pleasure to meet you sir, I hope your evening is wonderful." She took Gordon by the arm as they walked back through the ballroom. "Hunting for a house already? Are you sure we can afford it?" Gordon chuckled and led her through the crowd, looking about the room as they walked, trying to get a bead on all the security, to see if they were paying any extra attention to any guests in particular. I don't know if it's a Perception roll, or maybe Security? I want to try and identify if any guests have increased security attention, as well as locate where all the security is stationed - It's always good to have a tactical handle on the situation. TheTofuShop fucked around with this message at 07:32 on Jun 10, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2016 07:29
|
|