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The tram ride was taking longer than they thought.The tram was fairly spacious, all told - their were passable accomodations, considering what they were used to, but it's clear this tram was never designed for the bigwigs in mind - it was for scientists, engineers, workers, the ones who would get all the work done for their executives' 'grand vision'. And now they knew what that grand vision was. A second technological revolution. What would that even look like? The thought caused them no end of stress as they looked at each other. As they all examined the cars, they heard a gunshot - muffled by the confines of the car, as they all ran to the car together, the window was open, blowing horrendous noise as it did, drowning out the man before them - Shark, who had admitted to the others of his folly, of the hit that he'd taken, of his role in hitting Warden. The man who seemed to be bleeding profusely, staggering back to the window and clutching his chest. He tried to say something, but the words, drowned out as they were through the noise of the tram, were indistinguishable. As he staggered back, his foot caught on something, ans his whole body slipped, in one fluid motion - out the open window, and into the darkness of the cavern. His empty holdout pistol clanging to the tram's floor, a reminder of where he was just a moment ago. quote:Born to a working-class family, Dalton was rarely the kind of guy who'd speak up about his lot in life - sure, he might complain once or twice, but he knew his family was just trying to survive. But when his father - a repairman by trade - started to get too deep in the pockets of the corporations who declared he needed this certification, that level of training, all designed to drain him of more cash. Well. He always hoped the old man forgave him for running away. It's not like he wanted to, but he felt he could make it better on his own, and it'd mean dad had one less mouth to feed. King Burgundy, aka Dalton "Shark" Wescott, SELF-Aligned Bounty Hunter (Executor/Survivor/1-Shot Killer), was shot to death at the end of Intermission 6! As they stared at the scene before them, they were greeted, naturally, by the digitized caw of a raven, perched atop the doorway they were gathered around. The following players visited the LOOKOUT during Intermission 6: quote:jimmydalad Four left. They were almost home, weren't they? It is now Act 7. Deadline is at 10 PM Eastern Standard Time on Wednesday, November 21st. Monathin fucked around with this message at 02:33 on Nov 21, 2018 |
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Nov 21, 2018 00:19
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The ride continued onward. Tensions were strained, and madness was soon set in. No one was executed at the end of Act 7. It is now Intermission 7. Day will resume as soon as Night Actions have been processed. Monathin fucked around with this message at 02:36 on Nov 21, 2018 |
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Nov 21, 2018 01:49
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Even still... while they were closer to home, the crew looked at each other. One among them, surely, was still suspect. They just waited to see who would blink first. No one has died during Intermission 7. It is now Act 8. There is currently no deadline. Monathin fucked around with this message at 02:37 on Nov 21, 2018 |
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Nov 21, 2018 01:57
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With a light squeal from the tram, it slid into the station - run down, abandoned, decrepit, while the former station was well-mainted, this seemed out of even the corp's reach. One by one, they walked off the tram, looking up chipped and scuffed concrete steps. Just a few more steps, and freedom would be theirs. They could just put this long, tumultous, blood-soaked night behind them. But something nagged in the back of their minds. A killer was still among them, still waiting for their final moments. Firearms trained on each other, they steeled their gazes at each other. They couldn't leave, they couldn't return aboveground... Until this matter was settled. One way or another. The deadline has been set: 10 PM, Eastern Standard Time, on Wednesday, November 21st. The day will not end without an execution. If a majority is not reached by deadline, the player with the most votes will be executed.
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Nov 21, 2018 04:00
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QceNDYmbAo Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes, like hours. In the dim, flickering light of that run-down subway station, we only knew the beating of our hearts, the ragged breath, the erranth chirps and ambient noises of the digital hell we had crafted for ourselves, up above. With all the data, and some working prototypes, we were poised to take on the world. Were. Slowly, they turned to Glitch. Poor, poor Glitch. Raving like a lunatic, that mechanical raven nearby, its digital cry making us more intense, more on edge. Slowly, Sable and Co-Op turned to him, regarding him as more and more suspicious - his ravings felt more forced, more urgent. Like he was home free, and all he had to do was stall for time. Neither Co-Op or Sable fired the shot that put a bullet through Glitch’s chest, though. No, that was JO. The android who they had rescued all those lonely nights back. Still a work in development, still able to learn about the world in ways that the corps weren’t expecting. JO’s loyalty to the cause seemed absolute, unwavering. What fools. As the shot rang out, they raven’s cry was silent, as it seemed all too still. Crumpled into a heap, the raving lunatic known as Jesse Falcone was no more. quote:You were a liability, many said. You couldn't be trusted to keep their brains all in one place, let alone not to squeal to the feds. But Jesse never squeals unless it's for the crew! So what if you might have had a run in with some experimental procedures - your brain's all where it needs to be! Unless they took it? Did they take it, huh? Did they!?  got some chores tonight, aka Jesse ‘Glitch’ Falcone, CREW(Town)-Aligned Lookout (Even-Night Loudmouth), was executed! Suddenly, as if that was the signal that was being waited for, all hell broke loose. JO, the mechanical android, weaved between shots, as Sable and Co-Op rounded on them. It seemed like they were one step ahead, dodging in the spaces between the bullets fired, until they were up close and personal to Sable, their own firearm pressed against her chest. “This feeling… it is guilt, I suspect. Perhaps I do feel this… ‘guilty’. Goodbye, Yue.” Several shots rang out, the bullets cleanly exiting the back of Sable’s torso, more blood spilling across the concrete pavement. Trying to grip onto her firearm, several shots rang out in succession, bullets lodging within the android’s frame. A fighter until the rest of the life and color drained from her face. quote:Third-generation Chinese immigrant, Bao-Lin's parents had hoped for a sense of stability and weath from their only daughter. Imagine their surprise when said daughter was a risk-taker and gambler who liked to play the odds - in whatever form she could get her hands on? Whatever let her take the most risks was the most fun, which lead to her hopping from hobby to hobby listlessly. Gaining her nickname from her 'lucky' black hoodie, she made a name for herself taking crazy gambles and pulling ahead. Max, aka Bao-Lin “Sable” Yue, CREW(Town)-Aligned “Why… why did you…” Co-Op’s face, blank, the only one left alive. Left alone. A massacre of a mission, and it was just him… and them. “I suppose, to you, it may seem… definition: childish. Silly. Immature.” Each step they took towards him was muffled by the blood they walked through, the slick splashing noises causes Co-Op to back up near towards a wall. “The research is… intriguing. But that’s not the real reason I am here, though I need it for those who called on me to see this mission… ‘complete’.” “Then why!? Why did you kill them all!? Why did you leave me alive!” “A trivial question to answer.” They crouched down, seemingly disregarding Co-Op, to examine the drive that Sable had been carrying, pocketing it. “You, among all others, were left alive because of your co-dependent nature. It would make little sense for me to take your life, when such co-dependence is a vital ingredient to understanding the concept of human love.” “You… you’re insane!” “Insanity: a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavior, social interactions.Yes, I suppose, given your own perceptions, I could be classified as such.” They approached him now. “The technology means nothing to me. The research is but a bonus. To understand love, you must understand many things, things like codependency…and betrayal.” “But, come now, Mr. Perez, I need to make sure the job is finished. I was told no one was allowed to speak of this. However, you have been ultimately useful to me. So, while you may not die…” A high-pitched swing rang out, as a edged blade extended itself from just below JO’s elbow. You will not speak.” The scream echoed out soon turned to gurgles, and then muffled cries of pain, as a cracking noise, not unlike a heater, echoed throughout the abandoned subway.[/i] quote:Youngest of three brothers, Diego had always played third fiddle to them. They were stronger and smarter than he was - at least in his mind. But at least he was faster. Granted, that advantage didn't do a lot of good except for making himself scarce when they'd go out to have fun and someone would inevitably call the cops. But even when him and his brothers went his separate ways, Diego was always finding it easier for someone else to take the fall. Young and without much experience, he got picked up by one of the bigger crews in the Verge, looking fr someone with his skills - though they mocked him and called him "Co-Op" - forever the player 2, it was out of a sense of camraderie of what he brought to the table. Not everyone was as good at surviving as he was, after all.  jimmydalad, aka Diego “Co-Op” Perez, CREW(Town)-Aligned Decoy (Non-Consecutive Hider), was endgamed! One silenced, the other two dead. No one left to tell the tale. As JO walked out of the subway, the secrets to the Lunar Iridium research in hand, the only thing that echoed out of the subway… was the sharp, digitized cry of a mechanical raven. _________________________________________________ Elsewhere, a manhole cover weakly slid open, as a figure used what strength they could to push themselves out of the hole they were dragged in, and out of the alley. Instead, they felt themselves slumping against a dingy wall of some abandoned something-or-other. He gripped at the bullet wound that had punched through his chest. Lousy nanokevlar. The charge didn’t even go off. It was a miracle he made it out after falling off the tram. Who knew what the rest of the old Crew looked like. Dead, by that point, maybe? Most likely. And here he was, trying not to bleed out in an alleyway. What a rotten loving way to go. “Need a hand, Shark?” The voice caused him to bolt upright. Or attempt to, the shock of doing so made him double back over, groaning in pain. “Who the-” A grin that couldn’t help but seen as mocking played down at him, even though he knew its face - and knew better. “So I’ve died and gone to hell, then? Only reason I’d be seeing your face, Sly.” A low chuckle escaped from Sly’s throat. “Maybe you have. Does hell look any different from where we live now, though? If it doesn’t, does it really matter?” “Shut the gently caress up, you lovely conman.” It was a groan of bemused exhaustion, reaching out a hand, as Shark got pulled to his feet, unsteadily. “Better than a lovely bounty hunter.” Came the reply. “Who did they put a hit out on that you were gonna gun down one of your own?” “Jesse, turns out. Shot the wrong man.” Shark shook his head. “Careless and stupid. How did you get away? I saw you split open.” “The thing about faking your death - if you tell anyone the trick, there’s no way for you to put on a repeat performance. And we might need that one, in the future.” “We? What’re you driving at, Sly.” “We were set up, Shark. From every angle - including yours. Something big is going down - and with whatever that was in the labs probably let loose… I’m thinking it’s gonna be an interesting time.” “So what’s your angle.” “Forget your contractors, ditch ‘em, you and me work together to untangle the big mysteries regarding all this poo poo. It’s not just about survival, anymore - it’s about figuring out why.” There was silence, as the man named Shark considered his words, rolling his shoulders, and grunting as the pain shot through him again. “Yeah, alright. I feel like a dupe right now, but I’m mad as hell, and I need to know why what happened happened.” “That’s the spirit!” The ever-enthusiastic former con man gave the former bounty hunter a soft pat on his back. “Now, let’s get your dumb rear end to someone who can yank that bullet out of you, yeah?” “Yeah. There’s just one thing I don’t get, though. The reason they told me to take this guy out… was ‘cause he didn’t know what he knew, and if he had known… well, it’d been bad for my employers.” “Our first clue, then. We can think about it when you aren’t bleeding half to death, or high on painkillers.” A digitized raven’s cry echoed through the night, unheard to either of them. Dalton “Shark” Wescott may have lost… but will live to fight another day. _________________________________________________ The story on the news was inspiring, for the corporate types who had banked on the fall of New Horizon - the fire had caused enough structural damage to collapse a good half the building from the inside out - most of the sub-floors were toast. In a private room, men with more money than they knew how to count appraised an android they hired. “Excellent work, R-33. Your performance was simply outstanding.” The android said nothing. “I believe now that our business is concluded, you need only hand over the data. “I’m afraid not.” The cheery voice said. “Excuse me?” “My motives were clear from the start - to understand what this human concept of love means. Perhaps Carter wished for money, Elden, for data for the theories, Cipher, for her own personal vengeance. I need nothing that you can offer me.” “We’ll destroy you.” “Negative. An assessment has concluded that there is nothing here that could be related to the human concept of ‘love’. Only that will cause an end to my mission.” They glowed, their arms lighting up with a strange pale blue light, as if from within. “I have used the Lunar Iridium research to make enhancements to myself, to as to ensure my survival to the completion of my motives.” The men all stood up, backing away. Some of them reached for holdout pistols. They dropped low, as their face communicated no intent, but their words carried the meaning all to clear. “Engaging Anti-Personnel Mode.” quote:The first "memories" they had were of their activation in the shell frame that gave them visual and audio input - new sensations by most metrics. Developed in a lab to be a prototype of an artifical intelligence system - later stolen, and the data sabotaged - they were, and still are, frequently confused by the emotional impeteus humanity puts on their actions.A technological marvel that most people have yet to believe exist, the crew picked them up as an anomaly on one of their bigger corporate raids - wagering, wisely, that someone like you shouldn't be put in the hands of the corps, they quickly became your associates.  eccoraven, aka R-33 VR, aka “JO”, SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Ambusher (Interceptor), has won the game! _________________________________________________ Diego watched from his room in a nearby doc’s office - they couldn’t do anything about his tongue, cut off and the wound cauterized, but they were able to implant a vocalized into his throat, allowing him to make some rudimentary vocal sounds, without the need of his tongue. The secret was out, even if the crew was dead - Lunar Iridium Technology had strange, beyond-technology capabilities, things that seemed impossible, even for what they were used to. They had gotten away with enough of it that even without the research, they’d figure it out eventually. Rumblings of other freelance groups to fill the void the crew left behind were already starting. People had found collapsed subway entrances to the remains of New Horizon’s sublevels - though, thankfully, the one in which the tech from the heist was still left alone. A renaissance of those who wanted to strike at the man - a god of corporations who was now thought able to bleed. Other corps moving in to stake their claim, and Freelancers trying to get by… they were all in it for just another day to stay on top of their good luck. Of people who wanted to see their fortunes turn. Something about it stirred something in Diego. Maybe it was the painkillers talking, but he felt energized - or maybe he was just still shell-shocked by the loss of the crew. He’d been kept alive for a reason. Because in him JO saw something that looked like “love”. Something the corps had tried to stamp out of people. If he was going to lead his own crew, though, Co-Op wasn’t gonna cut it. Speaker, though? That had legs - in an ironic sort of way. “In this City, you can make your own fortune”. The words played in his head. What a load of bullshit. But it was bullshit he was starting to get behind. > run credits.bat 
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Nov 22, 2018 01:27
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pre:Verge, Episode 1: New Horizons, Same Old $#*! A Cyberpunk Mafia Game For 18 Players SETUP
pre:CAST AND CREW THE TOWN:
pre:ADDITIONAL READING:
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Nov 22, 2018 01:30
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NOTES:
I believe that's everything! Thank you all for playing. With this and Amaranth nearly concluded, I am going to be taking a Mafia Break for a bit. I'll still hang around in the discord and shoot the poo poo, but my work schedule is going to get ridiculous soon, and I think my modding suffered as a result of it. Verge WILL return... eventually. Look for it sometime next year. Thanks for playing!
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Nov 22, 2018 01:38
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Max posted:I strongly disagree with that ultimatum if that was the case but cest la vie Were it not for the likely dead day of Thanksgiving I would have let the stalemate play out, but as it is I felt the energy wouldn't sustain itself through the weekend.
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Nov 22, 2018 01:46
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I think that's a fair disagreement to make. I disagree with it for the purposes of this game but I see where you're coming from. I'll drop that issue for now, as I don't want to get overly defensive of my own actions.
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Nov 22, 2018 01:52
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