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GimmickMan posted:Honestly him wasting real food that she and her friends graciously shared with him is the most outrageous part. I don't think Fuzzy is going to punch someone for insulting her, but I can't see her not getting upset at how entitled to the point of self-harm this kid is. I think Fuzzy should call him out on it and from there Kenji can capitalize on the situation with his social operator skills and get him banned from the community. And I'm all for getting Chip something to substitute for reading, too.
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Jun 8, 2019 19:54
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GimmickMan posted:Honestly him wasting real food that she and her friends graciously shared with him is the most outrageous part. I don't think Fuzzy is going to punch someone for insulting her, but I can't see her not getting upset at how entitled to the point of self-harm this kid is. I think Fuzzy should call him out on it and from there Kenji can capitalize on the situation with his social operator skills and get him banned from the community. This, however I think a simple hooking his leg with hers and giving a little push might be in order to. Maybe with a look of disgust and not acknowledging that he dumped poo poo in her hair. Like, "Dude did you really just do that to me?" and make the whole thing seem as effortless as possible. Incidentally my spare time (rare as it is) has been taken by playing CoX now that it is public and free and every bit as amazing as I remember. So here is Fuzzy in her hide armor, complete with random bits of tire and other stuff for added protection, and the boiled devil rat leather chestpiece that Ratdad gave her. She is indeed a staff/Super Reflexes scrapper.  And then I thought of her growing up a bit and getting some real armor.  I also made Kenji in the smarmiest suit I could.  And in his Delver gear 
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Jun 8, 2019 19:55
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GimmickMan posted:Honestly him wasting real food that she and her friends graciously shared with him is the most outrageous part. I don't think Fuzzy is going to punch someone for insulting her, but I can't see her not getting upset at how entitled to the point of self-harm this kid is. I think Fuzzy should call him out on it and from there Kenji can capitalize on the situation with his social operator skills and get him banned from the community. To be honest I thought this was what was going to happen in the scene anyway. I like Jag's Commlink idea for Chip, it's pretty cute. Has it been established that he wants to read? I can't imagine he's interested in Julie's medical textbooks. Damien speaks so strangely. I really didn't see him being an arsehole after he asked her out though. Are the two things connected? I've only come across that speaking style in one other piece of media and it really weirds me out.
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Jun 8, 2019 23:55
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Force him to eat the food on the ground that he wasted
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Jun 9, 2019 01:24
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Deadmeat5150 posted:This, however I think a simple hooking his leg with hers and giving a little push might be in order to. Maybe with a look of disgust and not acknowledging that he dumped poo poo in her hair. Like, "Dude did you really just do that to me?" and make the whole thing seem as effortless as possible. This imo
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Jun 9, 2019 01:25
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Full Barbarian Fuzzy disinvites him from the cookout and punches him until the food he's eaten comes back out. Stone Cold Fuzzy says "I can't believe how rude you're being. You were still going to eat that, right?" And either Damien understands right away and eats it off the ground in apology, or Fuzzy beats him into submission and force-feeds it to him, along with any dirt she might scoop up on the way. I don't think she'd actually do either of those at this point, though, even if those instincts flicker through the back of her mind; part of her arc is her learning to deal with the rest of society and realizing that she can't punch her way out of every problem. These are her friends (even if most of them come second- or third- hand) and while she can't just let it slide, if she makes him kiss the Nogway it's going to make everyone else afraid of her, too, in ways that they aren't really afraid of Marista. It would permanently change the dynamic of the game, even if everyone agrees that Damien had it coming. In practical terms it would never be that simple. Damien's not the only Nice Guy at that picnic, just the bravest and dumbest, and he's going to have sympathizers. That said, I don't see him getting away with just a stern talking-to, either. Deadmeat5150 posted:This, however I think a simple hooking his leg with hers and giving a little push might be in order to. Maybe with a look of disgust and not acknowledging that he dumped poo poo in her hair. Like, "Dude did you really just do that to me?" and make the whole thing seem as effortless as possible. If she's feeling like rubbing it in (so to speak) she might run her fingers through her hair to get the worst of the goop off and just flick it off into his face while she's wiping up. Chatrapati posted:Damien speaks so strangely. I really didn't see him being an arsehole after he asked her out though. Are the two things connected? I've only come across that speaking style in one other piece of media and it really weirds me out. It sounds like if he m'ladied her any harder during the windup, Ice would have to write in his fedora and Damien's neckbeard would grow out as he was talking. He's been rehearsing this for a while and he gets upset that she's not following the script he's written in his head. Cassius Belli fucked around with this message at 01:36 on Jun 9, 2019 |
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Jun 9, 2019 01:26
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Yond Cassius posted:Stone Cold Fuzzy says... 
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Jun 9, 2019 01:33
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Hmmmmmm. Does Fuzzy have her Wolf Transform thinger yet?
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Jun 9, 2019 02:19
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Blasphemaster posted:Hmmmmmm. Does Fuzzy have her Wolf Transform thinger yet? She does! She's learned a spell and has practiced just enough to transform into one land animal, as yet undefined. So she could transform into a wolf. Chatrapati posted:Damien speaks so strangely. I really didn't see him being an arsehole after he asked her out though. Are the two things connected? I've only come across that speaking style in one other piece of media and it really weirds me out. Yond Cassius posted:In practical terms it would never be that simple. Damien's not the only Nice Guy at that picnic, just the bravest and dumbest, and he's going to have sympathizers. This is a shorter version of my explanation. I didn't want him to look exactly like Ser Neckbeard or Baron Cheetofingers, because then it would be totally obvious. Damien is in a place where he's expected to have a moderate amount of physical fitness. So he's a little overweight, but he has an excellent speaking voice and if he could ditch being lovely, he'd probably be an excellent talker. This is a breakdown of the exchange and it has multiple moving parts. If you're not interested in that, feel free to skip this next part. -- Damien is a combination of his current environment, the Eternity LARP/Augmented Reality MMORPG and being a Nice Guy, which is distinct from a guy who is nice. He makes more sense if you understand where he is, what he's doing and why his manner of speaking changes so rapidly after being rejected. Where he is: Physically he's in a kind of Renaissance Festival/Augmented Reality MMORPG where roleplaying is encouraged. And I had Fuzzy consider this in the story too, seeing his behavior as odd and a little creepy. So when not killing fake monsters with fake swords, you play your character, or if you can be witty while bonking people with foam weapons, you do that too. So when Fuzzy is playing Marista Wolfswift, swiftest of the Wolfswift clan, that's her playing a character. When she brings in a bunch of people who are also into the Wolfswift motif, that's just roleplaying with others, which is basically just improv acting. And I imagine that good roleplaying and doing themes with multiple people would get her extra XP, because it gets the notice of the GM's. Now it's the end of the day. The people who are staying overnight for the game on Sunday are going to bunk at that old school I mentioned (normally these would be cabins for a LARP, but it was in the area), but the rest are done roleplaying. Some of the costumes are still on, but people have dropped their "characters" and are just enjoying the party as themselves. Fuzzy isn't Marista Wolfswift anymore. She's Fuzzy again. The Wolfswift clan are now Manny and John again. Damien hasn't fully given up his character. He's still in roleplaying mode and this has the feeling of being rehearsed, which is why he's so stilted and formal. He's using his real name and talking about social media and trying to ask Fuzzy out, but he's still in that roleplaying mindset even though that's mostly done for the day and hasn't separated himself from his roleplaying/gaming persona. As a side note, in the LARPing community, you'll see people who basically live for the LARP. It'll consume their lives. They're called lifers and they often start at weird and from there it can slope downwards to some pretty dark places. Dissociation is a hell of a thing. Oli for example strikes me as a lifer and she should never be allowed near one of these things. I don't expect you to know all of this, but his manner of speaking is influenced by the gaming culture that he's in and he's not dropping character to be himself, which is viewed as strange. What he's doing: He's trying to ask Fuzzy out, but he's doing it in a creepy way and the process for which he asks her out is accelerated because he has no idea when he'll see her again. So he's moving quickly which is part of why it feels weird. Right now, Fuzzy is rocking that barbarian look and that's going to do it for someone, plus she's also powerful, confident and notable. And in this case, she's attracted Damien's attention, but because she's not broadcasting any information on her PAN (commlink profile) other than her name and nickname, he has no idea that she's gay or seeing anyone. So he thinks he has a shot even though he's going in cold. Hell, even if she was gay and seeing someone, he may try anyway. So I'm going to go through everything really quick in terms of how I wrote Damien. 1. Stilted, practiced, formal way of speaking. 2. Grand gestures (again, the bow). 3. The way he's approaching her is an attempt to isolate her. This is not necessarily terrible if it's just to make the confession and then return to being normally social among other people, but the way he says it should raise some flags, especially when accompanied with his other behavior. I might write in something like, "Can we talk alone?" to drive that point home and her shutting that down since she won the social exchange. 4. He's done his research on her, but he doesn't ask any questions. In fact, he's only concerned about the number of views she got. Nothing personal is asked, even though she probably would have told the story. In fact, telling the story would attract more people which would work contrary to isolating her. So when he talks about her accomplishments, it's more like ticking off bullet points rather than actual interest. 5. Eavesdropping on her conversation. He's been listening to a few minutes, not just randomly picked up "Hey, I'm leaving soon", but listening to figure out when the perfect time to make his entrance was. I probably should have rolled for this, but I forgot. 6. The extreme interest, and in fact his only interest when she says, "I see a lot of people". So he takes this as "I am promiscuous". This isn't to shame someone for being promiscuous, though this was Fuzzy misunderstanding, but when paired with his behavior it's telling. It's literally the only time when he expresses genuine interest in what she has to say. Why his manner of speaking changed: Fuzzy rejected him. And here you see the apologies and politeness fall away. He finds out that she's gay and she has a girlfriend. Now getting rejected sucks. She doesn't apologize because she has nothing to apologize for, but she doesn't mock him or is at all mean until he is first. She even compliments him on his taste in a somewhat self-satisfied way. Fuzzy is gay, but she does like attention because she doesn't realize why he's giving her the attention. And her love of attention wouldn't make her lead him on, but she'll take it if it's on offer. As a side note, Kenji is wondering if Damien is a human supremacist because she's been doxxed as of last book. So he's trying to read him and is extremely cold towards the guy. Kenji is getting creep vibes off him and he's trying to decide why. Anyway, with the rejection, the act is now over, but there's something between a parting shot and last ditch hopefulness from Damien. Gay women run across this a lot with straight guys, straight men with gay men and straight women with gay women, though maybe not exactly the following words. "Maybe you just haven't met the right man/woman yet." And it doesn't really matter who is saying it, only that the other person invalidates your sexuality while also pressing on you for you to try them out not because you're interested, but because they're horny. In this case, it's a straight guy invalidating Fuzzy's sexual preferences and her relationship at the same time which she absolutely treasures. It's extremely insulting and condescending, because what's implied is, "Have sex with me even though you're not attracted to anyone like me. Also dump or cheat on your girlfriend while you're at it too. Or maybe just bring her along." And I've seen this in action not just for straight men and gay girls, but gay men and straight men and though I haven't seen it in person, I've heard about lovely gay girls doing this to straight girls. I imagine there might be a straight woman who does this to gay men, but I haven't looked for it. Anyway, there's a pretty common fetish of "turning someone" to their preferred sexuality, viewing someone as a sexual conquest instead of a person. Food, not friendship material. Damien doesn't view Fuzzy as a person, but as an object to receive Nice Guy coins. He's a Nice Guy, which is distinct from a guy who is genuinely nice. https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Nice%20Guy Social interaction coins go in and he believes that sex coins should eventually come out. And in this case he views the coins with the most return, as most Nice Guys do, is to be nice. Nice Guy coins. The politeness is a sham. The apologies are a sham. Every gesture, every word calculated to be the "nicest". His behavior is 100% transactional and when he finds out that he's been dropping those "coins" into Fuzzy for nothing, he immediately insults her, immediately invalidates her sexual preference and relationship, immediately stops being polite and immediately stops apologizing. This is because he only valued her for the potential for sex, not as a person. Then Fuzzy, this person he doesn't actually respect, or maybe he does in a gross, hosed up way, insults him with his own words and the taste of his own medicine is bitter. quote:“What’s your problem?” he hissed, “I’m trying to be nice. You don’t have to embarrass me.” If he was actually being nice, he wouldn't have said the things he said or called her a bitch. If someone rejects you, then you shrug and go on your way. Maybe you try and strike up a friendship anyway, maybe you don't. What you do is stop. Nothing about this interaction was nice or polite or apologetic. It was highly manipulative, his every behavior calculated and transactional. Normally I write Fuzzy in a sort of gender neutral way because she is. She was raised outside of a place where gender mattered because she was focused on survival. However, the world in which Fuzzy has been plunged still has gender and gender roles. I imagine that gender and those roles have been expanded, but it's not gone and there are probably still a decent number of people who only believe in masculine and woman feminine with strict roles rather than looser ones or abandoning those roles or gender altogether. Fuzzy is still viewed as a woman and in this case feminine and dealing with Nice Guys is a problem for women. Not just women, and the offenders are not just guys, but that's the term most people are familiar with. As normal, I do my research and I wrote this from the perspective of a gay woman. How this deviates from the norm is that Fuzzy is powerful enough to shut him down without feeling the need to apologize for doing so to defuse tension or feeling fear. You can't tell if a guy will get aggressive when they're rejected and they can become violent and irrational. As a guy, there's a fear that most of us don't feel and largely can't empathize with as we've never been in that situation. I have before as I occasionally brush up against the gay community from time to time and gay dudes can be just as lovely as straight dudes. Anyway, because Fuzzy is personally powerful, this is not the case. She gets to have live her life without as much fear as someone in her position who is not as personally powerful would be. Since I wanted to flesh out how Fuzzy reacts to someone who is a posturing rear end in a top hat, but not planning violence, this isn't fully explored. However, in this case, most women generally wouldn't know if he was violent or not, would stalk them, that sort of thing. Her checking her combat sense is a serious relief even though it fails her, as physical violence wasn't incoming, but a plate full of food. Only attempted social humiliation, name calling and posturing was what Damien was gong to do. To Damien, Fuzzy was never a person, just a sex object. In Damien's warped view of relationships and sexuality, nice coins go in, sex coins come out. And when he finds out that he put in nice coins in "for nothing", he gets pissed off and escalates to balm his ego. I imagine if Fuzzy did have social media and the interaction went differently, Damien would go on to try to get Fuzzy to confide in her while acting ever so pleasant and nice and humble. Basically just dumping nice coins into her in hopes that she'll eventually date him/have sex with him, emphasis on the latter. He'd orbit her for a while, being that "source of emotional strength" and "just a good friend" all the while trying to either undermine Fuzzy's relationship with Sasha, trying to get Fuzzy to cheat on Sasha which is basically the same thing or attempting to worm his way into a lesbian relationship even though he's a straight dude. This was always doomed to fail because Fuzzy and Sasha have a dog together. I mean, Puppy spends half his time in Sasha's cabin. Puppy's basically their dog now, so their relationship is dog serious, which is very serious indeed. Though I would also accept cat serious too.
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Jun 9, 2019 02:36
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Turn into a wolf and chase his rear end around the park.
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Jun 9, 2019 04:05
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Actually, even better, since fuzzy doesn't entirely get this: Who are you, really? You just complimented me on defeating a toxic shaman and now you're trying to provoke me into a fight I'm obviously going to win. Are you with Knight Errant? See if we can get a chant of Narc! going.
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Jun 9, 2019 14:25
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I imagine Ice is already paying attention to this, but since it's come up in the thread before, Cyberpunk 2077 has a release date: April 16, 2020. Also, a new E3 trailer that might be considered spoilery (vague: someone dies) of the beginning of the game, if that's a thing that would bother you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIcTM8WXFjk
Dr Subterfuge fucked around with this message at 00:26 on Jun 10, 2019 |
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Jun 10, 2019 00:24
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Dr Subterfuge posted:I imagine Ice is already paying attention to this, but since it's come up in the thread before, Cyberpunk 2077 has a release date: April 16, 2020. Also, a new E3 trailer that might be considered spoilery (vague: someone dies) of the beginning of the game, if that's a thing that would bother you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIcTM8WXFjk Also a celebrity appearance
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Jun 10, 2019 00:26
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Man, those infodumps are amazing Ice. As an aside, straight women can definitely treat gay men like this. I used to pretend to be gay when I was a teenager to avoid unwanted attention, but it doesn't always work. It also used to be a big problem at local gay clubs, where you'd get groups of straight women acting innapropriately. I don't think it's as bad as gay women get it though. A friend of mine wrote an article about this for the local paper, and it's really quite shocking how frequently this sort of stuff happens on nights out, even if you're very obviously with your girlfriend.
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Jun 10, 2019 03:22
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Chatrapati posted:Man, those infodumps are amazing Ice. As an aside, straight women can definitely treat gay men like this. I used to pretend to be gay when I was a teenager to avoid unwanted attention, but it doesn't always work. It also used to be a big problem at local gay clubs, where you'd get groups of straight women acting innapropriately. I don't think it's as bad as gay women get it though. A friend of mine wrote an article about this for the local paper, and it's really quite shocking how frequently this sort of stuff happens on nights out, even if you're very obviously with your girlfriend. I used to go to gay bars and dance clubs precisely because nobody would bug me and I didn't have that pressure of "Young man drinking alone COUGAR BAIT" That happened to a lot of young sailors in San Diego. I have never pinged on a gaydar (although my knowledge of colors and love of musical theatre and opera does scramble some) so I was usually ok.
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Jun 10, 2019 04:45
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Ice Phisherman posted:After landing I had lunch with a forums poster who contacted me by PM. I met them and they had on a black shirt with purple starlight motif on the open fringes. Dark purple laces on their shoes. A good look. I won't describe their physical look or sex or ethnicity as that is not for me to say, only that their conversation was excellent and their hospitality was too. And I mean that in the best way. I am not used to presents, so it is not hard to make me happy, but everything about them was lovely. Oh, hey, that sounds like a me! I'm happy I was able to help welcome you to our megacorp-infested, proto-dystopian-future city. While we're all figuring out what happens next, I'm going to chip in a few comments for people who are following the travel antics from home. Maybe some of this will come in useful later. Ice Phisherman posted:We had lunch in the Asian district near the Uwajimaya which is an Asian supermarket and fairly well known from what I understand. I got porks (PORKS!) and duck and fried rice and some sort of soup and some sort of green sprouts. The dinner was lovely and I was shown serious hospitality in having my meal paid for which I am extremely thankful for. I learned a bit about Cantonese culture by being by being in a Cantonese restaurant received a book which I'm told is what Ender's Game wants to be when it grows up and did my best to maintain conversation while not exhausted, but definitely tired. I hope the porks were as delicious as I'd advertised.  The sprouts are pea vines, dao miao (dow myew), and they're very delicious, cooked fast and lightly like spinach. You have to ask for them, though; they're not reliably available and they don't show up on the English menus very often. They're usually a sign you're in a good southern Chinese restaurant (I know they're reasonably popular in Cantonese, Shanghai, and Sichuan food, but I think they're not as common up north), as they take a little extra effort to source and their shelf life is not great. The freshness counts for a lot. I imagine that, when she can get some, Mrs. Liu might keep some stashed for people she likes. The book is R.F. Kuang's The Poppy War. It hits a lot of the same plot beats as Ender's Game (we have a battle school of supremely gifted children, bullies picking on the main character, unforgiving, sometimes-incomprehensible teachers, and an enemy that nearly wiped everyone out in the past), and a lot of the same themes (personal drive, sacrifice, rivalry, revenge, and atrocity), but The Poppy War manages to engage them with a lot more grace and nuance. Kuang is a Marshall Scholar studying modern Chinese history, and that perspective informs her novel. Ender always felt to me like it was informed first and foremost by Card never quite getting over middle school. Rin probably won't get the attention or credit that Ender did, for any number of the usual disappointing reasons, but three quarters of the way through The Poppy War, I set it down and immediately bought five more to give as gifts. Make of that what you will. I'd love to hear what Ice thinks when he's done. Ice Phisherman posted:He asked for help. I had leftovers of greens, duck and porks in Chinese takeout cartons. So I gave them over. Then after some talk I decided to give him some cash from my wallet. The forums poster pulled out a no poo poo MRE from their bag and it was awesome. "It's army food, meat and potatoes. Just add water and it heats up." He asked if he needed a microwave and no, no microwave needed. Just water. And this was seriously astonishing to the guy. And as someone who has hiked a lot, I know the joy of having a hot meal after eating cold for days and days and days. Full disclosure: I can't take credit for a whole MRE! The full brown-wrapper MRE has a lot of packaging and fiddly bits that make it too big for a daily-carry in my bag, but stripped down and repacked it's the size of a medium-large paperback, which means I can always have a hot meal with me for a pinch. My usual version comes out to the mains and a side (beef stew and garlic mashed potatoes as I remember), the heater, and a little candy for a morale boost, about 800-1000 calories total depending on the specifics of what I can fit in there. I pack them as I keep my earthquake box properly cycled and wind up giving away eight to a dozen a year. They're usually well-appreciated, especially come the Seattle winter: with some cleverness you can warm up your sleeping bag pretty well while your food's heating, and a warm sleeping bag lets you take your shoes off for a couple hours of comfort and let your feet breathe. Cassius Belli fucked around with this message at 02:33 on Jun 16, 2019 |
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Jun 16, 2019 00:01
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I swear I've heard the tagline "They trained her for war. She intends to end it," before but I have no idea where and it's bothering me. Considering Ender's Game is one of my childhood favorites (I actually like Ender's Shadow better), I'm definitely giving The Poppy War a read.
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Jun 16, 2019 00:21
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Uwajimaya owns, you can get a ton of stuff over there Like this big ol pile of Japanese candy I have lying about in a cupboard
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Jun 16, 2019 00:58
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Dr Subterfuge posted:I swear I've heard the tagline "They trained her for war. She intends to end it," before but I have no idea where and it's bothering me. Considering Ender's Game is one of my childhood favorites (I actually like Ender's Shadow better), I'm definitely giving The Poppy War a read. I'm going to warn you (and everyone else) preemptively - if you don't recognize what the dedication, "For Iris" means, especially given the context I've already hinted at, Chapter 21 (the opening to Part III) is pretty hard to take. It's only marginally better if you do recognize what that means - knowing what's coming doesn't make it any less terrible. "Iris" is Iris Chang.
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Jun 16, 2019 02:55
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Yond Cassius posted:I'm going to warn you (and everyone else) preemptively - if you don't recognize what the dedication, "For Iris" means, especially given the context I've already hinted at, Chapter 21 (the opening to Part III) is pretty hard to take. It's only marginally better if you do recognize what that means - knowing what's coming doesn't make it any less terrible. Sort of telling that my mind immediately went in the direction you were hinting/warning, even though I did not recognize the dedication. Still going to read it.
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Jun 16, 2019 03:07
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Julie and Krupa - Saturday, August 17th, 2075 – Afternoon – Seattle Metroplex Julie flew the sky. For a few brief moments, she moved through the ugliness of the ACHE’s astral presence. It felt like moving through oil if it was also made of negative emotions. Julie pressed in on all sides by rage, fear, hate and a sadness so complete it was like desolation. She willed her astral body forward like Krupa had taught her in the far smaller confines of her doctor’s office and then she was out. The negative feelings receded and then vanished completely. “That really sucked,” said Krupa. Krupa appeared, her frown upside down, as well the rest of her. “Gah!” shouted Julie. Startled, Julie moved backwards by instinct, but she was a full forty feet away before she stopped, and it had taken only the blink of the eye to move that far. In the distance, Krupa righted herself and approached far more slowly than Julie had flown backwards. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” said Krupa. “It’s okay,” said Julie, “I just forgot that up and down don’t matter.” “Oh, they matter,” said Krupa, “Just uh…Less than normally. Be careful going backwards unless you know what you’re going backwards into.” Krupa pointed and Julie checked behind her. The inky, black astral presence of the ACHE roiled like smoke from a tire fire. They both shuddered. “Right,” said Julie. “Okay, let’s keep it simple today,” said Krupa, as she both composed and righted herself, “This is your first day in the sky. We’re not too high up, but I hope you don’t have any problems with heights.” Julie looked down and the ground seemed to grow in response as her vision tunneled. Then she began to flail, as if actually falling, but all she managed to do was flail in place. Krupa extended her hand. “Grab my hand!” she yelled. Julie grabbed hard on to Krupa’s hand and they both embraced in a hug as Krupa gently set down on top of an awning where they both set down. Julie shook like a leaf. “Afraid of heights?” asked Krupa. “I g-g-guess,” said Julie, with chattering teeth. “Okay, we’re just a couple feet above the ground,” said Krupa, “I don’t want to bring you to the ground because then people would pass through us and it’d feel weird.” “K-Kay,” was that Julie was able to say. “Let’s sit here for a few minutes. I’m going to run you through some mental exercises I know,” said Krupa, “Put one hand on your heart and the other on your stomach.” Julie did just that, but squirmed as she couldn’t find her heartbeat. Krupa seemed to notice. “Don’t worry if you can’t find your heartbeat,” said Krupa, “It’s back with your shoes.” “Sh-shoes?” asked Julie. “Your body,” said Krupa, “You’re used to breathing, so you’ll still do that even though you don’t need to in the astral. Also it’s kind of a bad habit to break. Anyway, close your eyes, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Julie did just that. Again, it bothered her that she wasn’t actually drawing in air, but she went through the motions anyway. Minutes later her astral body stopped shaking. “Are you okay?” asked Krupa. “I think so,” said Julie, “I don’t think I want to be up in the air again anytime soon.” “Then we don’t have to be,” said Krupa, “Half of the people I’ve met that can project kind of freak out the first time they’re up in the air. Flying in a plane or an air taxi is one thing, but flying through the air with nothing around you is another. So we’ll stay close to the ground today.” “Thanks,” said Julie. “No problem,” said Krupa, “Let’s see…A few rules...” Krupa gestured towards the city. For a few seconds, Julie tried to figure out where she was, but normally she stuck to Touristville and the Pioneer Square area just above since both were relatively safe and close to the docks. She could sort of recognize some of the buildings, but the outsides of them were all grey as their structures were devoid of life. At the street level, it was a riot of the colors that represented life and emotion. “I’d say not to fly up too high, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” said Krupa. “No, I don’t think so,” said Julie. “Okay,” said Krupa, “But so you know for later, when you go up into the sky, you’re limited in how high you can go by how strong your magic is. I can go up about three miles before I start feeling dizzy. Also you’ll feel like you can’t breathe. Just don’t go too fast upwards and you’ll be fine. It’s really bad to overshoot, like dying bad. Most people will naturally stop, but I’ve heard stories about people who didn’t. There’s a reason why the astral projection class is a semester even though you can learn the basics in just a few days.” “I’ll remember that,” said Julie, seriously, “So going up is bad?” “Oh no,” said Krupa, “Going up is great. The further you see, the further you can travel. I used to visit Joyce at his home from my home and he lived a few hundred miles away from me." Krupa's smile faded suddenly, and a dark, blue black wave of emotion flooded her astral body. Sadness to be sure, but also mixed with other negative emotions. Julie looked away and they were silent for a few minutes. "Anyway," said Krupa, her tone subdued, "I had someone take me the first few times so I wouldn’t get lost, which uh…Would’ve been really bad. Anyway, once I learned where he lived and how to get back, I used to visit him all the time.” "Miss him?" asked Julie. Julie looked back just in time to catch Krupa's nod, but then she shook her head. "I miss the person I thought he was," she said, "I'm holding out hope that I'm wrong and that the person I love actually is him." "Want a hug?" asked Julie. Krupa hesitated, but nodded again. As they hugged, Julie could almost feel Krupa's grief wash over her, but the touch, no matter the form, seemed to dull those sensations. It lingered for a while and then it ended. Krupa sighed. "One of the problems with being astral," said Krupa, "You can't cry. No tear ducts." "Sorry," said Julie. "I'll probably do it later," said Krupa, "Anyway, helping you feels good. Let's focus on that, okay?" "Okay," said Julie, "So...How long can you be out of your body for?” asked Julie, “I’ve read some books about astral projection, but they don’t all agree.” “Umm…About three hours for me,” said Krupa, “If you start running short on time you’ll start feeling like you’re short of breath which means you should get back to your shoes. Think of projecting like diving. How strong your magic is would be about how big a breath you can take. So someone who doesn’t have much magic could be out of body for an hour, maybe two, and they could go up a mile, maybe two. Small magic, small breaths, can't move to far upwards.” “No, I meant you,” said Julie. “Oh, three miles up, three hours out before I go back to my body," she said, "Since you've got all of that raw magical power you can probably go really high up and stay out for hours. Probably five or six miles and hours at least, but I wouldn’t test it for the same reason why you don't hold your breath until you pass out while still underwater. You could go really far. So much that you probably have to think about the curvature of the earth a bit so you don’t accidentally go too high, but Julian probably won’t take us more than a mile up. That’s advanced stuff.” “Okay, I wasn't planning on doing that, but okay. Is there anything else I need to know?” asked Julie. “Watch out for magic stuff,” said Krupa, “The grey buildings you can just pass through no problem since grey means it's not magically active. The colorful ones are the ones you need to watch out for. They’ve got defenses against magic. Don't get too close.” “Is that it?” asked Julie. “That’s it,” said Krupa, “For now at least. We’ll be on the streets and we’ll fully in the astral to people can't see us and gawk. I’ll be with you to keep things from going bad. Think of me like your astral projection diving buddy. Have you ever been diving before?” “Nope,” said Julie. Krupa’s aura lit up yellow with happiness. “Oh, I found some great spots locally,” she said, “I’ll take you sometime if you want.” “I uh…” began Julie, shyly, “I don’t even know how to swim.” Krupa’s aura showed her confusion and then glowed yellow again. “Maybe I’ll teach you how to swim too,” said Krupa, “I’ve been swimming since before I could remember. And when I really need to talk to Dolphin, I go diving. Swimming gets me little chats sometimes, but when I need to have a big conversation, I need a wetsuit and scuba gear. Anyway, let’s stay closer to the Sound so we won’t get lost. Do you know which way it is?” Julie closed her eyes and focused. They couldn’t be too far away since the exited out of the West End, which was closest to the docks. So Julie felt, more than saw the life coming from the ocean, opened her eyes pointed in the direction she hoped was correct. Krupa nodded. “Very good,” said Krupa, “When you don’t know where you are, you can look for landmarks. Or try feeling for them if they’re natural. Try leading the way.” Julie looked down, feeling better about the height as the drop was only a few feet. She pushed off, not falling, and slowly made her way towards the Puget Sound. Krupa followed behind. Fuzzy, Kenji, Saanvi, Jayvon, Manny and John - - Saturday, August 17th, 2075 - Afternoon – Seattle Metroplex, Bellevue “I’m real sorry about that,” said Jayvon. He hobbled on his crutches next to Fuzzy. Manny stayed on her other side. “It’s fine,” said Fuzzy. Fuzzy’s hair was still a little sticky from the barbecue sauce and gravy. Saanvi had been able to get more of it out, but Fuzzy was probably going to need a shower. “Not fine,” said Jayvon, “Seattle is…Different. Where I’m from, you defend someone’s honor if you give them hospitality, but I didn’t want to make you look weak.” “I’ve had worse,” said Fuzzy. “From what I understand, you usually thump someone like him,” said Jayvon. “I have…Reasons,” said Fuzzy, evasively. “Like what?” asked Manny. Fuzzy looked at him. He was almost as tall as her now, but he was all gawky. His new adoptive parents in EVO had been feeding him right and he’d grown fast. “Complicated ones,” said Fuzzy, “What I’ll say is that he wasn’t violent, just a jerk. All bark, no bite. So I turned my back on him.” Manny nodded seriously, but Jayvon looked confused. “I don’t get that,” said Jayvon. “No threat, nothing worth having,” said Manny, “If this were Puyallup, he’d probably be messed or dead after that. I mean…Not at home. Diego isn’t like that, but I saw stuff before I started living there.” Jayvon looked at Manny. Really looked, and frowned in sympathy. Manny looked away. “Makes sense. CAS is sort of like that,” said Jayvon, after a pause, “After an insult like of that magnitude, you duel. You have to or your life goes to sh…Uh, crap.” “What’s a duel?” asked Manny. “A fight with rules,” said Fuzzy. “Rules?” asked Manny, “Like uh…Sparring? So you don’t hurt anyone?” “People get hurt,” said Jayvon, and he grew a little quiet, “Sometimes worse than hurt.” “I don’t get it,” said Manny. “Some things are complicated,” said Fuzzy, which ended the conversation. In the silence, she heard the murmur of Kenji and Saanvi pulled up the rear, talking quietly. John was a little further back than them, talking animatedly on his commlink. Jayvon’s bodyguards walked in front of and behind him. Fuzzy looked around for her truck as she moved through a parking lot, which was her dad’s old truck. Since a number of people had left as festivities began to close and the parking lot was emptying for the day, it wasn’t hard to find it. What they approached was a pickup truck, “Barrens Ready” as people called it, though her dad had called it the Quixote. Fuzzy felt like it was a good name and so she’d keep it. It was the civilian model of some security pick-up truck that no one produced anymore. It was built primarily for speed, though it could and did still haul which was part of the reason why Fuzzy wanted it. The truck itself was colored primer grey but that grey had a slightly melted look from acid rain. The door panels and hood looked like they came from other vehicles. The front and rear fenders had extra armor to cover the tires, and what wasn’t covered by heavy steel was obscured by hanging chains. The bumper was pure steel in a style that had gone out of fashion for the civilized world some hundred years back. It was less safe for collisions, but for dents both big and small it could be popped off and hammered back into shape, which it had been on multiple occasions. The armored body was covered in dents and scratches, was armored with obvious plating beyond the tires, had black ram bars on the front, heavy duty spotlights on top and like her Harley and smart tires, which were new, but obscured. What really set it apart though were the numerous devil rat skulls mounted above he ram bars. “Looks mean,” said Jayvon. “It’s got history,” said Fuzzy, “And it helps me haul my kills. You’d be surprised at how fast it can accelerate even with all that armor on. Also when you go really fast, the skulls sort of whistle in the wind.” “Da…Uh…Dang,” said Jayvon, with a quick look at Manny, “Is that legal to drive?” “I had to get permits for the armor, but yeah,” said Fuzzy, “Also Julian isn’t the happiest about it since it looks like this. I wanted to buy my dad a new truck and I got the old one. Nothing goes to waste. Julian wants me to take the skulls off, but those were my kills. My dad put them there.” “Is that the barrens version of your parents hanging your grade school artwork on the fridge?” joked Jayvon. “Is that a thing?” she asked. “I think so,” said Jayvon. “People know when to run when they hear the whistling,” interjected Manny, “That’s what Diego said.” “That too,” said Fuzzy, happily, “Even in the barrens.” “That a fact?” asked Jayvon. “Mhm,” said Fuzzy. “Still want to go mudding?” asked Jayvon, “I found a good place up in Snohomish.” “Once I finish my job for the school,” said Fuzzy, “I’m hunting and training you, so my days are pretty busy. This is my first day off in over a week.” “I appreciate the work ethic,” said Jayvon. “Thanks, oh, could you send the leftovers to where I said?” asked Fuzzy. “Home?” asked Manny. Jayvon nodded and Manny beamed at him and Fuzzy both. “What’s left, sure,” said Jayvon, “But I had a plate made up for Sasha too for you to take home. No meat, though personally she’s missing out. Also I got the uh…The rib bones for you. Not sure what you want them for.” One of his bodyguards, the one in the back, had boxed food in one hand and a small bag of rib bones that hadn’t made it to the trash in the other. Fuzzy popped the hood of the truck and took the bag in hand. She unscrewed a cap near the engine, retrieved a bone from the bag and tossed it in with a clunk. Half a dozen more followed in quick succession. “So it runs on bones,” drawled Jayvon, “Because of course it does.” “It runs on anything,” said Fuzzy, “It’s a multifuel engine. There’s a uh…Manny, what was it called? You used to fill this up sometimes, right?” “Yeah, after I lost my arm. It’s a plasma furnace,” said Manny. Jayvon looked at Manny more carefully after that remark, but said nothing on the matter. “Yeah that,” said Fuzzy, not noticing, “Throw in trash and you get fuel. Most of the barrens isn’t covered by charging stations and the sun doesn’t shine a lot in Puyallup to make solar power reliable. There’s too much ash in the air. At home there’s just some food that you can’t eat and that goes into the truck as fuel. Normally dad would make stock from the bones, but I don’t have a stove at home and I don’t know the people who ate from these, otherwise I’d send the bones home. In Puyallup, you don’t throw anything away. I get my dad a new truck and I get the old one. That’s how it goes.” Fuzzy screwed the cap back on tight until it clicked and grabbed what looked like a ripcord which had been salvaged from a lawnmower. She gave it a few hard tugs, then a few more when she was about to stop after half a minute of pulling, the engine roared to life and the plasma furnace began burning, using the bones as fuel. She closed the hood and brushed off her hands. “Do you do that every time?” asked Jayvon, “Start this thing like an old fashioned lawnmower?” “Uhhh…” thought Fuzzy, “Not sure what you’re talking about, but I guess so. If I need to go somewhere fast I switch to electric, but that costs money. I’m also going to need to get this fixed since it’s old and stops sometimes. I know a guy though.” “How’s the mileage for the bones?” joked Jayvon. “No idea,” said Fuzzy, taking the question seriously, “Dad had a feel for it, but I don’t. I didn’t ride in it much and I never got to drive it before, but that should get me back to my parking space at least.” “I think it’s metal as hell,” said Saanvi. The three looked back to find Kenji and Saanvi standing nearby. John kept his distance, still chatting in low, urgent tones on his commlink. “Maybe give it a paintjob,” said Kenji. Fuzzy crossed her arms in response. Manny looked to her and folded his own arms in exactly the same way. “Just saying,” said Kenji, “The acid eaten thing is a look, but it might rust.” “Hmmm…” mused Fuzzy, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Rust would be bad for the armor. Anyway, we’ve got to go or we’ll miss the boat home because the truck can’t drive itself. I’ve actually got to park it. Manny, you’re staying with Jayvon until you get picked up, right?” “Yeah, but I want to go with you,” he said. “If I drop you off in front of the local EVO corporate headquarters in this, then I probably won’t be able to take you out for another ride,” said Fuzzy. “Okay,” he sighed, “I guess.” “Be good,” said Fuzzy. Manny made a farting noise with his mouth and Fuzzy snickered. They both hugged, Fuzzy received the food made for Sasha from a guard and Jayvon hobbled away, which Manny reluctantly followed some seconds later. Fuzzy unlocked the car, but it took a few seconds to crawl around on the inside to unlock each of the doors due to the lack of power locks and windows. The inside was stripped down to bare floor and bare seats. “I might get some coverings for the seats,” said Fuzzy, thoughtfully, “Something comfy.” Kenji and Saanvi took the back. John took shotgun and Fuzzy drove, though she needed to push the seat all the way forward. “Legroom for days,” said Kenji, happily, “I’ve got to say, you’re really showing the barrens street cred here.” “It seems like this is the kind of truck that gets randomly pulled over a lot,” said Saanvi. “With a good paintjob I think I could reduce that…A little,” said Kenji. Fuzzy fiddled with the radio and as it sputtered to life, mariachi music warbled out. For a few moments, everyone listened to the sounds of Diego the Piper’s favorite local radio station crackle through the ancient speakers. “Fuzzy?” asked Kenji, his tone serious. “Yeah?” she responded. “Please,” he implored. Fuzzy looked over her shoulder and smiled smugly as she backed out of her parking space. Kenji groaned. “Please?” he asked again. For several minutes, Fuzzy listened to mariachi music while she drove to drop off John. She wasn’ the biggest fan of it, but it did make her nostalgic for the few times she’d rode with Diego when she was younger. The truck turned heads as she stopped at lights and she felt good about buying her dad a truck and taking his old one. Even in a place like the Seattle Metroplex, where the bizarre was commonplace and the metroplex largely had a general feeling of being Halloween every day, the Quixote stuck out. As she drove deeper into the Bellevue area, she noted that it was a place of extremes. There was urban decay that reminded her of home on one street, though far less extreme, merely old, but as she passed to another it became wealthy and affluent again. What stuck out was that the shiny, new areas were literally pressed up against the older areas. Fuzzy had never actually been this way and was following her commlink GPS, so she actually had to pay attention to her surroundings. So she turned off the radio and there were audible sighs of relief from the back as she spoke to John. “What’s up with this?” she asked. “With what?” he asked. “It reminds me of the barrens on one street, but it’s nice on others. It’s weird,” she said. He slipped his commlink into his pocket and looked outside. “Right, this is Kirkland,” he said, “It’s getting gentrified like hell. Does it really remind you of the barrens?” Fuzzy thought about it and shrugged. “The nicer parts of Puyallup,” she said, “The places where people still live that are all packed just south of Tacoma. Most of the people who work in Puyallup live right on the border. What’s gentrification?” “It’s where land developers buy up a place and make it nice,” said John. “Oh, cool,” she said. “And then kick everyone who can’t afford it out of the neighborhood,” said John, his tone bitter, “The cops keep doing stop and frisk on the locals to harass people out. It’s one of the few times you’ll see cops standing on street corners like ever. They’re there to make the new people with their baby buggies feel safe next to working class Joes like me. There’s a big push to move everyone who works in Bellevue east as close the wall to the Redmond barrens as possible while the rich people move west. I’ve had five different apartments in five years and I just keep getting pushed further and further east. At least for this part of Bellevue, central and south Bellevue is a different animal.” “Oh, not cool,” she said. Even as she drove, she noticed him fidget awkwardly in his seat. “Yeah,” he said, distractedly, “Rent goes up no matter how far east I go. At least I’m able to stay out of Redmond, but just barely.” “Very not cool,” she said. “Definitely not, but that’s life,” he said, and lowered his voice, “Can I talk to you for a second?” “Sure,” she said. He looked to the backseat. Kenji and Saanvi were wrapped up in their own little world and he looked away back to Fuzzy. For her part, she had to pay attention to the road. Since her truck wasn’t plugged into the automated grid, automated vehicles, which were almost all of them, were reacting to her driving and she still wasn’t fully used to the truck yet. She wasn’t about to have an accident, but she had to pay more attention than usual. “So uh…You know how you got your girlfriend to take a look at my boss?” he asked. “Yeah,” she said. “Well an hour after she called, he quit his job and gave back all of the money he stole,” he said. “That’s great,” she said, with a smile. He waited for Fuzzy to come to a complete stop before continuing. “And then he did a line of NoCo off the counter in front of my boss,” said John, “He used an edge of a magnum pistol to cut a line.” “What?” asked Fuzzy, quickly, “What’s NoCo?” “Drugs,” he hissed, “I didn’t believe it, but the guy at the front recorded it. He tore his work clothes off, and that includes his pants. He said that his name wasn’t Dan anymore and that this life was dead to him or something. That his name is Warhog or something and that he’s going to sell off his anime figurines to become a shadowrunner.” “What?” asked Kenji and Saanvi, both at once. “What?” asked Fuzzy, a moment later. John winced and looked away. “Should’ve turned up the music,” grumbled John. “Do you have the recording?” asked Saanvi, “I want to see this.” Reluctantly, Dan sent her the recording before turning back to Fuzzy. “Fuzzy, be real with me, does your girlfriend have mind controlling powers or something?” he asked, seriously. “No, we can’t learn that at school,” said Fuzzy, her tone somewhat offended, “No lethal spells, no mind manipulation. Look, when I stop, I’ll call Sasha and ask what happened, okay?” “Okay…” said John, his voice tense, “The owner is blowing up my commlink. He wants me to come in. I mean I need that money that Dan dropped off and the hours, but if he snapped I don’t want to go in if Dan is mostly naked, high as balls and waving a gun around.” There were murmurs from the backseat as Kenji and Saanvi watched the trideo recording together. “Now that’s a big boy,” whispered Saanvi, “He’s really struggling with those pants too. There he goes, hopping around…Aaaand…Hahaha, he fell over and landed on his gun.” “Real shadowrunner material there,” drawled Kenji. “Warhog,” snickered Saanvi. “Nah, it’s Warhwawk. That’s the gun he’s got,” said Kenji, “Check it out. I don’t know how he’s going to cut a line with it. That’s a low profile rail on top and that is definitely not a straight edge…Ah, got it, sloppy line. Really sloppy.” “All in one go, gone. Wow. Is that a lot? That looked like a lot," she asked. "Probably," said Kenji, "I don't mess with the stuff though." "He’s sniffing the gun too,” whispered Saanvi, in awe, “Wait, the drugs are sticking to the rail. He's snorting the extra off the gun and apologizing at the same time. And he's just not paying attention to where he's aiming. Finger on the trigger. No trigger discipline at all. Wow.” “Hey John,” said Kenji, his tone neutral, “Who takes over his job? You?” “I wish,” groaned Dan, “That’s enough money to solve a lot of problems. Not crazy money, but Dan could afford to get fat, have a gun and his dumbass anime figurines.” “So uh…” said Kenji, “I don’t know what happened with Sasha, but she’s pack and I feel the need to smooth this out. She feels bad about stuff and obsesses. You want his job?” John hesitated, but then nodded hard from the front seat, still looking forward. “Anything to stay out of Redmond,” he said, quickly, “I'm like...In bad debt. Payday loans places were all I had and they're eating me alive. The only reason I came today was so I could blow off steam and maybe sell something. Whatever you can do, no matter how weird it ends up, I'll take it.” “Step into my office,” said Kenji, pleasantly. Dan looked backwards to see what he meant, but as Fuzzy stopped again, he beckoned John into the back seat. Quickly, Dan unbuckled his seat belt and crawled into the back seat. As there wasn’t enough room for three people, Saanvi crawled forward into the driver's side position, brushing up against Fuzzy in the small confines. As she righted herself, she smiled at Fuzzy, who looked worried as she snapped on her seat belt. “It’ll be okay,” said Saanvi. “I hope so,” said Fuzzy, nervously. -- Not done writing for tonight, but I wanted to get what I have out right now. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 03:37 on Jun 16, 2019 |
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Jun 16, 2019 03:13
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Saanvi and Kenny reacting to the Warhawk was everything I hoped for. 
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Jun 16, 2019 03:29
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Jayvon's reaction to the Quixote guzzling bones was priceless. I thought they were going to be for Puppy or something. That was so much better
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Jun 16, 2019 03:40
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That was great. Quixote needs a slick paint job with like a sweet metal wizard lady on the side casting lightning spells out of her big black wizard staff.
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Jun 16, 2019 04:29
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There needs to be a scene with the Quixote's Plasma Converterdoodlydoo being filled with a bag of old Micro Machines toy cars accompanied by a line about the truck using other, lesser vehicles as fuel.
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Jun 16, 2019 04:55
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Deadmeat5150 posted:That was great. Quixote needs a slick paint job with like a sweet metal wizard lady on the side casting lightning spells out of her big black wizard staff. Blasphemaster posted:There needs to be a scene with the Quixote's Plasma Converterdoodlydoo being filled with a bag of old Micro Machines toy cars accompanied by a line about the truck using other, lesser vehicles as fuel.
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Jun 16, 2019 14:49
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Ice Phisherman posted:“Drugs,” he hissed, “I didn’t believe it, but the guy at the front recorded it. He tore his work clothes off, and that includes his pants. He said that his name wasn’t Dan anymore and that this life was dead to him or something. That his name is Warhog or something and that he’s going to sell off his anime figurines to become a shadowrunner.” One of the better paragraphs written in this subforum in a loooong time.
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Jun 17, 2019 15:10
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Can the next Shadowrun game be a CYOA about Warhog?Deadmeat5150 posted:That was great. Quixote needs a slick paint job with like a sweet metal wizard lady on the side casting lightning spells out of her big black wizard staff. For some reason this made me think of those really tacky, badly drawn sexy ladies you get at the side of vehicles at fairgrounds and things. I don't know why (maybe a kind of classist supposition on my part), but I think Fuzzy would like that sort of thing. Judging by the skulls though, she's probably more of a do-it-yourself type.
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Jun 17, 2019 19:27
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Fuzzy has friends who can make magic art. It can be a magically armored wizard van.
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Jun 17, 2019 20:09
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Deadmeat5150 posted:That was great. Quixote needs a slick paint job with like a sweet metal wizard lady on the side casting lightning spells out of her big black wizard staff. It needs to be a stylized lightning punchwizard lady knocking the teeth out of an ogre or something (styled to look like suspiciously like Minuet). We can re-mount the rat skulls to be the teeth and enchant the lightning bolts to crackle when the Quixote gets going fast enough.
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Jun 17, 2019 20:33
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'Electrochromatic' paint, which is a coating of pigment that can change color with an electric signal like a digital screen laminated onto an object, is a thing in Shadowrun. Fuzzy could spring for smart-paint if she wanted to be maximum flash like that, and then sell ad space.
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Jun 17, 2019 22:34
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Yond Cassius posted:It needs to be a stylized lightning punchwizard lady knocking the teeth out of an ogre or something (styled to look like suspiciously like Minuet). We can re-mount the rat skulls to be the teeth and enchant the lightning bolts to crackle when the Quixote gets going fast enough. You forgot the bit where it's a sexy lady punk-punchwitch riding the Nogway side-saddle as her broom.
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Jun 17, 2019 23:08
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I also move for Fuzzy to have some "so tacky it's cool" van art. It's nice when she does goofy poo poo, a reminder that yes she has time in her life now to do things which are entirely frivalous 
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Jun 17, 2019 23:11
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Julie and Krupa- Saturday, August 17th, 2075 – Afternoon – Seattle Metroplex, Downtown Area The astral jaunt outside was short. Julie had two modes of movement: Normal walking speed, even though she wasn’t walking, and incredibly fast in stutter stops. Today was all about moving out in the open and learning how to control speed and maybe learn to deal with heights. The latter Julie was slowly getting better at, if only because it kept her above the busy street. “You’re doing great!” shouted Krupa. Krupa waved from in front and Julie slowly made her way towards her. Moving quickly was easy. Moving precisely was more difficult. The trick of it was to stay focused on a single point so she wouldn’t veer off course. So Julie hovered about fifteen feet above the ground, moving slowly, focusing intensely. Her focused blurred as she decided to move and she ended up ten feet in front of her. “That’s great!” said Krupa, “You’re getting the hang of it.” “I’m really not,” said Julie, “Also, what happens if I smash into you?” “Uhh…” thought Krupa, “That’d hurt. I don’t think you would, but…Tell you what. I have my clean water spell. It’s area of effect. I can just toss it into the air, you can move through it and it won’t hurt anything. That way you won’t hit me. Plus you can move through it and we’ll see where you pop out. The spell ends up pretty circular so we can test your precision by the hole you leave in it.” “So this’ll be sort of like darts?” asked Julie, incredulously. “Sort of,” said Krupa, “It’ll be more like a sphere, not flat.” “Okay,” said Julie, “If we’re doing that, we should move over the water a bit so we don’t attract any attention. Most people can’t see us, but a few people can and I think we’d attract attention if we start casting area spells over one of the busiest streets in the downtown area.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” said Krupa, “I don’t want to get in trouble.” Julie waited as Krupa looked for a spot over the Puget Sound, a bright light in the distance. While the city was largely grey, the water itself had color to it, meaning that Julie couldn’t move through it like she could the air. Swirls of magic, thin but ever-present, moved through the air, the scene disturbed only by the greyness of boats, devoid of magic, as they floated in the water. Several hundred feet away, the light that was Krupa glowed faintly and then tendrils of magic wisped out from her. The spell was light blue and quickly grew into a sphere. The bottom of it hovered over the water, not touching it, and the top of the spell hovered some fifty feet in the air. In the distance, Krupa waved to Julie. Julie looked down at the water and knew that she couldn’t swim. Rationally she knew that she didn’t need to breathe and that she couldn’t physically go into the water, even though she wasn’t a physical being at the moment. All of her fears and instincts were wrong for this environment, but it was difficult to let go of them. She wondered if her fear of heights would keep her from soaring through the sky. What good was her power if she was too scared to wield it? Anxiety flared inside of her. If she wasn’t ready for even this, what would she do when the massacre came? She stopped thinking and propelled herself forward. At the speed of thought, she punched through the globe of magic and out the back end, stopping shortly after just before she hit the water. Her fear had kept her from hitting it, making her wonder if fear was truly wise to let go of completely as she stared at the uncaring waves. As she turned around, she saw wisps of disturbed magic from the globe like a brief trail of smoke telling her exactly where she’d moved through. The “smoke” moved back into the spell as Krupa sustained it. Julie had come through slightly downwards of center and the distance she’d traveled had almost skipped her astral body across the waves like a flung stone. “Good job!” shouted Krupa, “Aim higher! If you hit the water at speed it’ll sting! Can I move the spell higher?!” Julie thought about it. Maybe fear could be a good thing if she wasn’t paralyzed by it. “Okay!” she shouted. Krupa moved the spell higher into the air. Julie tried to lick her lips, but there was no water in her. All there was of her astral body was magic and emotion. The physical parts were in her doctor’s office. Failing to notice any of this, her focus was in the sky. Without thinking, she moved, the world blurred in response and she moved through the spell once more. This time she moved through the spell perfectly. She was in the sky, not just hovering above the city or the waves, but truly in it. The wind carried its magic, but none of the chill as it caressed her astral body. The fear, which had moments before settled in her stomach like a weight now thrilled through her body. It became exhilaration and that exhilaration became joy and her senses sharpened and opened in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with magic. She turned around to find that she’d hit the spell dead center and she felt a surge of pride in response. This was something she could do. However, as she looked down at the Puget Sound below, the exhilaration and joy became fear once again. Not the blind panic of before, but she had to concentrate to move downwards again before her fear abated. “Good job! Ready for more?!” shouted Krupa. “Just a minute!” shouted Julie. Grappling with her fear and learning how to use it would take time. Though it was time she didn’t have. So she took a moment to calm herself and when she was ready, she propelled herself forward once more. John, Mr. Checkers and Mr. Rourke - Saturday, August 17th, 2075 – Afternoon – Seattle Metroplex, Bellevue John stepped out of Fuzzy’s truck half a block down the way. He didn’t want to show up to work with a vehicle that looked straight out of the Redmond barrens. Wrong barrens area, but still. In his green work outfit and black pants, he strode purposefully forward, pushing right past the homeless man who tried to intercept him to beg, borrow or steal whatever nuyen he had on him. He walked past a pawnshop, a liquor store, a strip club, a payday loan place and a number of empty businesses. Other businesses weren’t physical, but stood on two legs near street corners and near alleyways, willing to sell you your chemical escape of choice. The only building with any sort of polish was Pizza Right Now. Each was two stories, each the exact same size and dimensions, as if dropped there. The first floor was largely an automat with a single counter with bulletproof glass between customer and employee. It was that kind of place in that kind of neighborhood. If you wanted a pizza, an automated process would spit it out in two minutes if you visited the store or have it ready for you if you ordered ahead. He punched in a code, failing the first time and then remembering the nine before heading on in. He ascended the stairs, making eye contact with the person, whose eyes were wide, but not so wide that they didn’t betray a certain jaded demeanor. John dodged around the bare automat parts as they whirred, filling the small shop with the scent of low rent pizza. “Dan self-destructed, huh?” asked John. The employee looked beyond John to the stairwell and then to the front. Finding no one around, his words and anger both boiled forth from his mouth. “loving glorious,” sneered the employee, “Even dropped off the money he stole too. Had this heavy-rear end loving pistol that he was waving around while doing NoCo off the counter. The glass can take a shot, but the last time, well you remember, it spiderwebbed and it got taken down with no replacement for a week. So at least he didn’t shoot it. Dan said that I should record it so no one takes it all. You know, like he did, the fucker. I’m in debt up to my rear end and out my mouth thanks to that rear end in a top hat. The money ain’t gonna do poo poo now. At least not enough. Called the cops but they’re loving useless.” “They’ll get here in t-minus never, huh?” “loving right.” “Yeah,” grunted John, “I’ll grab my share after I talk to the owner. It’s something.” “It’s something,” echoed the employee, his voice hollow as his shoulders slumped, “The owner is in Dan’s old office and he’s pissed. Just a head’s up.” “Thanks.” The employee eyed John critically. “Hey, you lose weight or something?” John looked down at himself, but then he shrugged. “Dan stole all the overrun pizzas, remember?” “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, “I was counting on those calories. Anyway, don’t let me hold you up.” John ascended the stairs. Behind one of five desks was another woman with blonde hair, sweat sheening her face. Sticking out of her head was a wire called a datajack that plugged her into the RCC, the rigger control console, which when used with the datajack allowed her to pilot drones with her mind. Her eyes flickered open to stare at John and she smiled like the sun at him, but only for a moment as that smile of hers turned nervous. She swept a lock of her lank, sweaty blonde hair past a once plump face, gone somewhat sallow. Her green and black uniform almost hung off her. “Hey uh…Lauren,” said John, “You okay?” “Hey John,” she said, her voice ragged, “Sorry, no kiss right now, busy. I’m routing ninety calls on my own right now and I have to jump into one every other minute because something always needs my extra special attention. Some rear end in a top hat bashed a drone with a hammer and so people aren’t getting their pizza…You know, right now. I’m sure someone is getting yelled at somewhere, glad it isn’t me, but my whole screen is red with late arrivals and it's only getting worse” She took a deep breath and sagged at her desk for a moment before straightening up, looking like she was on the verge of tears. “Oh, right,” she continued, “Juan called out, Peaches isn’t picking up, Stacy’s commlink ran out of minutes a week ago so I can’t call her in and Tony quit five minutes ago after he collected the nuyen that Dan dropped off after his mental breakdown. The new hire, I can’t remember his name, no one taught him how to route anything even though he’s worked here for like two months. Dan was supposed to do that and I don’t have the time to teach him. We’re beyond slammed and none of the other stores are helping because the people that turned over their drones last time got their tips stolen too. They hate us that much even though Dan is gone. I need to pee and I want to cry. Tell me you’re here to pitch in.” John winced and shrugged. “Gotta talk to the owner first,” said John, “I’ll do what I can when I’m done.” “Just hurry babe, please,” she begged, “I was supposed to leave when you got here but I’ll be lucky to get off by midnight. I’m just glad that Dan isn’t here anymore to steal my tips.” Her eyes flitted closed against as she went back to her task. John looked to one of two doors, both unmarked in this dim, nondescript little place and accidentally opened the door to a bathroom, stopping himself before he confidently strode in. Though he strode in anyway, waited for thirty seconds, strode back out and then strode into the correct room. Behind an ancient, battered looking desk was a short, old human man with light, papery skin and the thick, dark hair that was perfect, but that perfection was so obvious compared to the rest of his thin body that it looked purchased out of a catalog. He wore an ill-fitting designer suit with his sleeves dramatically rolled up and a designer smart-watch that was halfway up his forearm as it was too large for his wrist. He spoke angrily into the air. “Yeah, loving idiot quit on the spot. Leaves me out here twisting in the wind,” said Mr. Checkers, “Yeah…Yeah…” He held up a finger to John as he kept talking. So John sized him up from what he remembered and what he’d been told. Old Mr. Checkers, owner of thirty Pizza Right Now stores, he’d micromanaged enough of them well enough that he’d been able to buy more but he hadn’t switched management styles and everything suffered because all decisions had to run through him. Making and delivering pizza wasn’t rocket science, but to him, John figured, everything was do or die to puff up his own sense of self-importance. Mr. Checkers had that air about him. John had the feeling like he could be here for long minutes or even hours, and he didn’t have that kind of time. John turned his head out of the room. “Hey Lauren, clock me in,” said John. “Okay!” she shouted back after a few moments. Mr. Checkers immediately made eye contact with John. “I’ll call you back,” he said, and then to John, “Who the gently caress said that you could clock in?” “If I’m here I’m on the clock,” said John, “If I’m not here, then I’m not on the clock. Half of your people are no call no shows, one because she’s not picking up, one because she can’t afford her comm bill thanks to Dan, one quit once he got a payout and Dan had a psychotic break. Me and Lauren are what you’ve got left. So am I here or not?” Mr. Checkers worked mouth as if he’d bit into something sour. Instead of responding he leaned in and sniffed once. “I smell beer on you,” he said, “Is that how you come into work?” “It’s how I come into work on my days off with no notice,” said John, his tone neutral. Mr. Checkers grunted once and sniffed disdainfully this time. “I was thinking about maybe making you temporary manager, maybe making it a full time thing if you worked out,” he said, “If this is the kind of attitude you take with me then you can loving forget it.” John was absolutely certain that there were too many maybes for that to have ever been true. Taking a chance, he took off his hat and put it on Dan’s old desk. Black, curly hair fell out. Taking off his work hat was a small gesture, but significant. “I didn’t expect to get it,” said John, “Let’s be frank. This is a bad neighborhood. Not an hour ago your old manager, who was stealing from us, and possibly from you, walked out of here claiming that he was going to become a shadowrunner. A little before that, I’m told, is that there was a shootout in a parking garage a block or two away. Not to mention when people take shots at the bulletproof glass. It doesn’t get penetrated, but it looks bad, and I’m guessing that Dan delayed replacing it after it was taken down so he could get high. That left your shop open to getting ransacked or lit on fire by a thrill gang. Do you think that the cops are coming to help? In time? In this neighborhood?” Mr. Checkers had both palms pressed to the desk, body poised as if he were about to leave. However, he settled back into his rickety rolling chair with a squeak. “Your point?” he asked, his tone flat. “My point is who works here that’s worth a drat?” asked John, “You might find a good manager, but no one willing to stay and they’re likely to insist on working remotely. You may find a bad manager and you’ll just be back here again. This job is in a bad place in more ways than one. Your employees, including me, literally can’t afford to work here anymore. The payday loans we’ve been taking to stay alive are eating us alive. Dan returning the money isn’t enough.” “So you want a handout,” he said, with a snort of derision, “Not loving likely.” Again Mr. Checkers put his hands on his desk to leave the conversation. However, with a flick of the wrist to catch the eye, John produced his battered commlink. He placed it on the desk in front of Mr. Checkers and tapped it once to automatically dial a number. “No, not a handout,” said John, while the commlink rang, “What I did was look for other jobs. I found one.” In that moment of hesitation, the commlink chirped. “Thank you for calling Ares Macrotechnology, world leader in weapons development, manufacturing, heavy industry, aerospace and security services. Ares Macrotechnology, Making the World a Safer Place,” chimed a feminine voice, and there was a momentary pause before continuing, “Please listen closely as our options may recently have changed. If you know the extension to your party, please dial your ten digit code now. If you…” John checked his commlink, pulling up a screen and dialed a ten digit code, which halted the voice. Mr. Checkers looked on, lips pursed, eyes set on the commlink. “What the hell is this?” he growled, “You work for me.” “And I can choose to work elsewhere, but I’m not sure yet,” said John, distractedly. What appeared on the commlink, and then above it, projected in three dimensions, was a man behind a desk. The light skinned elf was a bit on the chubby side with short, light brown hair that had been recently gelled and styled. He wore an all-black actioneer business suit and stark white tie. The fact that the actioneer business line was an armored suit and would be out of place in this case was completely lost on Mr. Checkers and “John” was grateful that he didn’t notice. “Hello, this is Johnathan Rourke with metahuman resources,” said “Mr. Rourke”, “Ah, hello John. Glad to hear from a fellow John, hahaaaa.” Johnathan Rourke’s accent absolutely dripped with that country club, just off the links accent. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Rourke,” said John, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have my current employer on the line here with me.” “No trouble, John. No trouble at all,” said Mr. Rourke, his tone pleasant. Mr. Checkers stared poisonously at the two Johns. First at the image suspended above the commlink and second, through the image to John as he sat, smiling in the chair. A vein under his parchment thin skin budged as his skin tone turned a shade of red. “Now as John here discovered, Ares Macrotechnology is hiring,” Mr. Rourke said, and then chuckled, “Well we’re always hiring. Today I’m here to offer an exciting, once in a lifetime opportunity to get on the ground floor of a new initiative with the Ares Macrotechnology subsidiary, Knight-Errant.” Mr. Checker’s eye began to twitch at the corner. “One of my stores was robbed four days ago,” growled Mr. Checkers, “And this is what you’re doing instead of protecting my business? Stealing my employees? What do you bastards even need with delivery drivers?” “I can see why you were searching for a new job, John,” said Mr. Rourke, with a sad shake of his head, “This sounds like a hostile work environment. Not at all like at Ares Macrotechnology or Knight-Errant, but Mr. Uh…Chuckers was it?” “Checkers!” he bellowed. “Checkers, Checkers, of course,” soothed Mr. Rourke, injecting just the right amount of lack of care into his voice, “You see, with the criminal activity spiking in the city as well as the recent, but temporary, lack of metahuman resources among the police, we’re looking further afield for non-traditional policing resources. In order to completely evolve cross-platform dynamic service, we’re going to be tracking even more criminals via drones until police resources can be dispatched. One perp, one drone. That’s the motto. So in order to assertively monetize covalent strategic theme areas, we’re going to be hiring five-hundred new class C drone operators and I think John here is Knight-Errant material.” “Five-hundred to start, right?” asked John, “Isn’t that what you told me?” Mr. Rourke laughed his best, corporate approved laugh and shook his finger. “You…Quick as a whip you are, John,” he said, “Quick as a whip. I like that in a new potential Ares family member. This is…Well…Hahaaa…You can call this a pilot program, pardon the pun. But you're right, if we’re successful, more will likely follow.” “loving cocksuckerrrrr,” growled Mr. Checkers. His anger only seemed to make Mr. Rourke laughed his sanitized laugh all the harder. “Now, don’t be that way,” said Mr. Rourke, “This is just the free market at work.” “You want to be a wage slave, John?” hissed Mr. Checkers, as he looked through the projection, “You want to work for Knight-Errant? Is that your life now?” John’s face hardened. “I’m drowning in debt,” he said, seriously, “Everyone here is. That’s debt that came from Dan’s thievery. Debt that you don’t seem to care about.” Mr. Rourke cleared his voice expectantly. John and Mr. Checkers looked back to the projection. “We’ll cover any debts up to one thousand nuyen incurred upon transition from your previous life into the Ares family and I’m authorized to give you a low interest loan for the rest” said Mr. Rourke, “And we’re also adding a headhunting bonus and signing bonus both for any other class C, B or A operators in our attempt to seamlessly seize 24/7/365 supply chains.” Mr. Rourke’s eyes bulged with anger. He leaned over the desk and began shouting directly into the projection. “You want my business and my employees?!” he screeched, “Maybe you want my blood too! Well motherfucker, if you want my blood then you can come here and take it! You can try, but if you do I’ll show you how we do things in Bellevue! I don't give a gently caress who you are! All you’re offering is wage slavery! You are not going to steal my business or my employees! No one messes with Ralph loving Checkers and gets away with it!” He smashed his finger into the end call button and the vein on his forehead bulged dangerously as he struggled to catch his breath. Ralph Checkers leaned back against the old chair, emotionally spent. John wondered if the old man was going to die, but eventually after a minute passed he looked to John and spoke. “You really want to be a wage, slave, kid?” he asked, his tone bone weary, “For Knight-Errant?” “I’m drowning in debt, sir,” said John, who matched his subdued tone perfectly. “How much is your debt?” “Just under a thousand.” “Done,” he said. “And that management job? I was the one running things here. Dan was an idiot. I put out his fires and kept this ship afloat.” Mr. Checkers eyed him critically and nodded. “Fine,” he said, “Let me get the contract from corporate. It’s going to be uh…Thirty-seven thousand a year.” “Ares was offering about that much,” said John. “Forty, poo poo, fine!” groaned Mr. Checkers, “What else?” “This area is dangerous,” said John, “I want to be able to remote in.” “You are not taking Pizza Right Now property home with you,” he said, seriously, “Control consoles are expensive. No way.” “I’ll remotely access them from home. All I need are the access codes. That means when there’s a no call no show, no one has an excuse.” Mr. Checkers stroked his chin. “Who fills the hoppers for the pizza dough and toppings?” he asked. “We can keep one person here.” “Fine, but I’ll need to clear it with corporate,” he mused, “You'll also need to physically come in to train new hires. You won’t be eating any overrun pizzas either. Not unless you come in.” “Understood, sir.” “Good. Is that all?” he asked. “That door at Ares isn’t going to stay open forever,” he said, “I’m going to want to be on contract for at least a year, maybe two. With guaranteed payouts in case I’m fired with or without cause.” “You just...You...What, no trust?” he asked, sourly. “My trust got burned up with Dan,” said John, his tone serious. “Fine. I’ll need a few minutes.” Time passed before the new document was sent to John’s commlink. Instead of checking the fine print, he looked at Mr. Checkers. “You realize that I can send this to Mr. Rourke and he’ll tell me everything that’s wrong with it,” said John, “And if I go to work for Ares, they’re basically their own country. Extraterritoriality means all contracts from other sources will become null and void. If this is bad, I walk.” Without another word, a new contract was produced as they made awkward eye contact with one another. John made his electronic signature on that one. “Get to work. You’re on the clock. Bring in who you can. Promise…poo poo, call the payday loan people and fix it when you have time,” he said, angrily, “I’m going to have to work on retention, poo poo. I might even have to raise wages. Just bring them back in. New hires are going to be a pain in the rear end if this new initiative takes off. What I wouldn’t give for Lone Star to be back. Now there was a security company that knew how to get the job done…” “Before I’m on the job, I need to grab some sober-up pills from the Stuff Shack,” said John. “Clock out first,” he said, seriously. “Yes sir,” said John. Inordinately satisfied with himself for getting the last word, he nodded to himself in satisfaction and left the office, swearing to himself. Kenji, Gentoo and Octo - Saturday, August 17th, 2075 – Afternoon – Seattle Metroplex Kenji let the magic that mimicked John's face slip once he was a block away and into the Stuffer Shack. He picked a few choice snacks for later as he used a burner commlink to talk to his team. Octo had secured the line and Kenji had his white noise generator humming. "You know Kenji, you don't pay the best, but your jobs are always interesting and no one dies," said Gentoo. "Yawn," said Octo, "Double yawn. You have me mimick phone trees and make Gentoo's apartment not look like a sty and that's all? That is a criminal misuse of my talent." "When you don't want me working with other computer touches, you're who I come to when I need computers touched," said Kenji. "Triple yawn and a snore," she said, sarcastically, "I've got a job tonight with this pervert here and some rando named Axebitten. You know, because he likes swinging his axe? That's the level of talent Clever is able to produce." "I owe you," said Kenji. "Yep, you do," she said, "Maybe I'll cash it in when I want you to squirm. I mean not really, but really." Kenji picked up a few pints of ice cream. He had a sneaking suspicion that after the condition Sasha left that Dan guy in, she was either feeling great or horrible. Either way, ice cream would be appreciated. "You're the best, Octo. Also, Gentoo, nice corpspeak," said Kenji. "Mnemonic enhancers," said Gentoo, happily, "Great for the memory. I hear the corporate tools talk like that all the time when I do the golf hustling thing. I had to pull the phrases out at random though because it's all nonsense." "Sounded good to me," said Kenji. "Yeah, well, that's the point I guess," said Gentoo, with a laugh, "Hey, I've got some stuff to shift around from a job I did recently. You know. When do you think you can take a look at it? It's sort of taking up space. Clever's cool, but it's not from his side of the tracks if you get me." "I think I get you," said Kenji, "High end?" "Yeah, Fairlight Caliban commlinks," said Gentoo, "Top of the line for the consumer market. It's the new version that came out just last month, still in the plastic. I've got seven left and I'm looking to get a good price." Octo gasped in delight. "Gimmie gimmie," she said, "Gimmie, gimmie gimmie." "Oh yeah?" snarked Gentoo, "You want me to give it to you? I thought we had conversations about that." "Light yourself on fire," she snapped, "Kenji, tell him to light himself on fire." "How much?" asked Kenji. "Uh, Kenji, that is not telling him to light himself on fire" she said. "Thirty percent store value, which is seven grand a piece," said Gentoo, "No, two-thousand, because I like you. Good resale value." "Clever wouldn't give him ten percent because they're super spicy," she said, in a singsong voice. "drat it, Octo," growled Gentoo, "I don't do this poo poo to you. Not about money. I'm saving up for bioware and you do me like this?" "How spicy?" asked Kenji. "drat it," groaned Gentoo. "So very spicy," she purred, "I could unspice them for you for a nominal fee. Then no one could tell that they'd been spicy at all." Kenji filled his basket with a few Grande Mesquite soyrritos as he walked through the frozen food section. He was getting seriously tired of the food from school. It was good and real, but samey and he wanted variety. Then he packed in ancient timey stove popcorn, for when he cooked with Oli next as a treat, a jar of soy based peanut-butter to eat straight from the jar, some hummus and pretzels for Saanvi and some pork rinds to share with Fuzzy. "Wonder if she's had these before," he mused to himself. "Kenji?" asked Gentoo. "What?" he responded, "Oh, right. I'll have to get back to you, Gentoo. It'll be at least a week. I'll need to talk to some people. I assume I'm taking all seven?" "If you don't mind," he said, "I don't know any other deckers to uh...Take the spice off. This one is territorial." "I told you they were too spicy," Octo bickered, "But you didn't want to listen." "They wouldn't be so drat spicy if you'd help me," complained Gentoo. "I help Kenji, thanks," she said, piously, "Because I like him. You on the other hand are just a pervert coworker. We have a working relationship and we're not working right now. I'm only sticking around because I haven't talked to Kenji in a while." "Love you too, Octo," said Kenji. "Shucks," she said, happily. "Let me see if there's a need," said Kenji, "It'll take a week or two. Sorry about the delay." "It's fine," said Gentoo, "It's only money that's not going to the girls if I die since I can't spend it on bioware immediately. No big deal." "You mean your pregnant hooker sisters," scoffed Octo. Kenji dialed down the white noise generator as he wirelessly paid for the food and walked out past the attendant. He texted Fuzzy on his normal commlink. "They are classy ladies carrying my children," said Gentoo, "Be nice please." "Where are you?" he texted. "Who just happen to be hooker sisters," she continued, "Because you are the grossest." "Ah, that's not gross," said Gentoo, "Let me tell you about gross. See, I got this new photosynthetic bioware recently to reduce my caloric intake. I didn't want to get green skin, so I got the sea slug variant." "Lalalalalalala, can't hear you," said Octo. "It's like a big, green, fleshy, veiny, slightly mucousy patch of green flesh that's shaped like a leaf," continued Gentoo, It's in a little pocket under my shoulder blades and it folds out of each like a blanket." "Tell him to shut up, Kenji," she pleaded. "I'm staying out of this," said Kenji, "Also I'm fascinated and horrified by Gentoo's new bioware." "Nohohohoooo..." "Well Li, she hates it," said Gentoo, "But Vi? She loves a good sluggy snuggle if you get me." "Why?! Why?! Why and I hate you Gentoo! Why?!" she cried, "Why do you tell me this?!" "I'm leaning more towards horrified now," said Kenji. "It is an offense against all of metahumanity that you're reproducing," said Octo, "And I'm muting you. No, I'm kicking you off the call. I'm done with you. Bye." "How spicy was that for y-" said Gentoo, suddenly cut off. "drat it," she groaned, "I looked it up too. The elysia chlorotica. I wish I hadn't. That's what's coming out of his back? Gross." "Try not to think about it," said Kenji. "And there's rule thirty-four porn about it," she complained, "And there's a lot of it. Several communities." "Why are you looking at it if you hate it? Weren't you just smack talking him for being a pervert?" "Because it's cute and fun when I do it," she explained, "But when he's doing it, it's gross and weird. Keep up please. Anyway, pizza grifting, really? It's feast time for jobs and this is what you do?" Kenji opened the pork rinds and snacked on one. "Damage control," said Kenji, as he crunched, "But I was thinking while I was talking to this guy, Pizza Right Now isn't affiliated with any of the big corps. How hard would it be to hack the shops to get at the drones?" "You want to steal them?" she asked. "No, not really," said Kenji, "I wouldn't know what to do with them. No, what I figure is that with as much feasting in the shadowrun community as there is right now from all of the cloak and dagger stuff with the Ares bullshit, the upcoming election and the terrorist attacks, finding competent people to do surveillance work is a hassle. Those pizza drones are going all day and night and since these are barely more than pop-up shops, hacking them might not be a big deal. Who pays attention to a pizza delivery drone? No one. No one seriously looks at them. They're invisible because people ignore them." "Ooo, nice," said Octo, "You're right about the lack of talent. Basically anyone can become a shadowrunner now. It's disgusting what passes for a talent these days. So you want it for a job?" "I was actually thinking about breaching it and renting it out," said Kenji, "Meaning you doing the hacking and me selling the service. Keep it going for a medium style job or five to test it out and then burn it for something big. I mean no really big jobs, they'll have talent, but we can fill holes. I'll sell Clever on it and all you have to do to get surveillance is to buy pizzas in the right direction. It won't be perfect, but it'll be better than what a lot of runner teams will have. And the cops are too busy putting out fires to care about hacking pizza place delivery places, which won't happen because you're too good to get caught." "Sweet talker," she said, "I'm also doing most of the work you know." "But I had the idea and I can get a good deal out of Clever," said Kenji, "And you like me. Plus it's low risk, and I don't want you getting hurt." "D'aww, you sweetie," she cooed, "It's almost like you care." "Almost," teased Kenji, "It's why you like me." "I'd like you a lot more if we set Gentoo on fire," she said, "Pretty please?" Fuzzy's truck rolled up, rat skulls whistling slightly. Kenji lifted his bag in acknowledgement. "Gotta go, see you soon." "Kisses. Mwuah." -- This lasted longer than I thought it would. I'll finish the update (there's one left) tomorrow and do the voting thing. Also I'll drop the rolls then. Tired. Sleep. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 13:59 on Jul 12, 2019 |
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Jun 18, 2019 09:48
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Will the next update mention what ultimately happened to Damien?
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Jun 18, 2019 18:01
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Volmarias posted:Will the next update mention what ultimately happened to Damien? We'll be seeing him again, yes.
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Jun 18, 2019 18:12
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Man even though Octo herself was never not on Kenji’s side knowing what we know still makes reading her interactions with him feel more sinister. And I’m sure that’s entirely intentional. Also I’m realizing that we haven’t seen Chip yet this book and I miss him 
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Jun 18, 2019 18:20
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The important thing to remember about Octo is that she IS Kenji's friend. It's also the part that hurts the most.
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Jun 18, 2019 18:46
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RickVoid posted:The important thing to remember about Octo is that she IS Kenji's friend. This, but put finger quotes around Octo, is, and friend
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Jun 18, 2019 18:55
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I had a blast with Yond. 10/10 hospitality. Really showed me around the Seattle area and fed me the best meal I've had in a long time, twice. So many porks. Also an excellent source for how Seattle is doing right now which gave me a ton of inspiration for the book. We went hiking in Blake Island and it was a blast. I really enjoy hikes and I was glad that I was healthy enough to go on one. One of the rocks from the beach that we both agreed was cool currently sits on my desk. It is a rock like any other, but it's my rock now. Yond took pictures, so eventually I'll post those. The island was gorgeous and was so remote that nature was largely undisturbed. I wish I'd had more time to be there, but such is life. The book is currently in my room. I haven't cracked it yet because I'm working on history/politics podcasts that I've missed. I'll let you know what I think of it when I get to it. Dr Subterfuge posted:Man even though Octo herself was never not on Kenji’s side knowing what we know still makes reading her interactions with him feel more sinister. And I’m sure that’s entirely intentional. Mhm. Nothing has changed in their relationship except your perception of it. The goal, which I want to explicitly state now, is to have a Kenji/Octo conversation so fun and wonderful that you get sucked in. And then by the end you remember, "Kendra is lurking behind her eyes". quote:Also I’m realizing that we haven’t seen Chip yet this book and I miss him So in book five, near the beginning, I mentioned that Julie needed time away from Chip because they were becoming codependent on one another. quote:Codependency is a behavioral condition in a relationship where one person enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Now this isn't 100% the case. Eventually Chip helped get Julie admitted into a psychiatric ward. I'm more focusing on addiction, immaturity and under-achievement. Addiction in that Julie constantly worked to paper over her problems, she hasn't grown much as a person emotionally and except for magic, she hasn't learned much besides magic and has dumped a ton of energy into Chip. Julie does not grow because she keeps dumping her experiences (her exp/karma) into Chip. It's when she gets help or seeks wisdom that she grows. Most notably this would be dealing with her racist attitudes. They're still there, but she's aware of them, can disable them and they don't influence her thinking anymore. Most people who reject racism in my experience don't reject the thoughts. The thoughts are irrational and they come unbidden. There is struggle. They reject acting on those thoughts. Julie is not "done" with her racism, but she is done letting it control her thoughts and actions. Helping the orks and trolls of Touristville and then hanging out with Krupa means that these people are no longer "the other" in her mind, but are people and you can empathize with people. Narratively, I want to explore Chip's new personality. Before he was impulsive, bratty, suspicious, mercenary and gluttonous. He has positive traits too, but I'm focusing on the negative traits here. And I want to keep some of that there, but a big part of why he had those negative traits was because he's a spirit of healing who couldn't heal and a spirit of knowledge who didn't know much. He was acting out because he couldn't fulfill his role. I want to transition to a happier, more professional, but not fully mature Chip while still keeping echoes of his bad behavior as part of his base personality. So Chip is away from Julie narratively because Chip was partially responsible for her lack of growth and they're trying this thing where they stay away from one another for a bit so they can decouple their personalities from one another. Not completely, but some time apart will be good so their personalities stop blending together through that emotional link of theirs. Psychiatrist's orders. Also, the reason Chip was allowed to grow and change at all so was that he could handle the workload for Julie so she could strike a proper work/life balance. She committed herself to doctor duty for an entire community and easing back her hours means the community doesn't do well. So he's there to handle some of Julie's workload in seeing Touristville patients. She's not actually doing this though and she's probably going to get the boot out of her own doctor's office for a bit and get told to be a teenager and do teenager things. On the positive side, we'll be seeing some solo Chip adventures in the future. And I'll be developing his matured character and seeing where it ends up. Zodiac5000 posted:One of the better paragraphs written in this subforum in a loooong time. I'm glad that you liked it. I feel like escape is the reason why people become shadowrunners and play Shadowrun. Dan/Warhawk is turning into a kind of commentary for that. "You too can sell your anime figurines, burn your waifu body pillow, buy and implant used cybernetics and become a criminal for hire!" I really want to put him on the path to becoming a street samurai, which is iconic for the setting, but also would make sense as Dan is weebtrash. No katana though. Those cost too much money. This particular samurai would have nunchucks because that's what he literally asked for when getting tutorsofts. A street samurai if he ordered everything from a Bud K catalogue: A magnum that's he's scared of, nunchucks instead of a katana, tons of cocaine, used cyberware,  tutorsofts and a can-do attitude.Deadmeat5150 posted:That was great. Quixote needs a slick paint job with like a sweet metal wizard lady on the side casting lightning spells out of her big black wizard staff. Slick paint job you say.  jagadaishio posted:'Electrochromatic' paint, which is a coating of pigment that can change color with an electric signal like a digital screen laminated onto an object, is a thing in Shadowrun. Fuzzy could spring for smart-paint if she wanted to be maximum flash like that, and then sell ad space. Sell ad space you say. 
Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 19:24 on Jun 18, 2019 |
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Jun 18, 2019 19:22
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