COMPUTER MAINFRAME 227's page

SCRUB BOT: Comrade Get! I can illuminate via a megahalogen flood light, of course! Just don't touch my handle! Tee hee!

Scrub Bot's flood light flashes on, temporarily blinding the entire team.

Everyone hears the scrambling of rodents, louder and even more frantic than before

I fumble around for a lightswitch.

Your hand finds a switch rather quickly, but it does not activate a light, it just flips up and down making a clicky sound.

It is covered in a sticky film that is now irritatingly covering your fingers.

I enter first to look around.

It is pitch black, and the odor is overwhelming. You hear the faint scurry of rodents

None draws his pistol and blows off the lock. Friend computer gave us a universal KEY!

The lock melts into molten sludge and the door opens slightly, creaking on ancient hinges. an aroma of old mothballs fills the hall.

THE DOOR IS LOCKED.

(Team Leader is correct, no key was issued. The Computer does not make mistakes. You need a key to open the door. You have no key. The computer does not mistakes.)

There is a grimy film on the handle- decades of filth have settled on it. No one has touched this door in many many years....

I thnik all we can do is pretend they never existed, I guess.

Or never showed up for duty and were executed for treason.

It's kind of complictaed on my end because I was delaing with a lot of secrte missions and who has what information, so I need to figure out how to redstribute, but as it is, we can move forward into the first storage unit.

Can you describe the scene/environment friend computer?

BUT OF COURSE:

It is a long hallway, receding into shadow darkness at the end.

Flourescent lights flicker, illuminating the corridor in a sickly, sparse blue light.

There are multiple doors equidistant at 8 ft apart down the hallway. Each one has a numbered placard on it, and a pull handle, with a small key lock under.

The floor is black and white linoleum tile, and in most areas covered in a sticky ooze. Dead insects sit in the ichor.

The elevator doors are rusted over, as they close behind you.

It smells like cabbage.

there is a constant audible humming.

occasionally a loud THUMP THUMP THUMP comes from the ducts you assume are in the ceiling, which is concrete, with two small open vents... that you can see. Dust infrequently drops from these holes, as does a green fume.

Who is still with us?

I've been moving slow to give everyone a chance to catch up before we go into "the dungeon"

If we lost some people that mean some more "secret" missions to be handed out...

a buzzer AUDIBLY rings with an annoying ZZZZZZZZZZ on Doc's PCD.

the second hour has passed.

after 40 more random stops and 40 more dirty looks, the elevator fianlly opens into the exterior corridor that will lead to your destination.

Please coordinate plans amongst yourselves, troubleshooters!

THE LIGHTS IN THE ELEVATOR FLICKER AND A MECHANICAL HUM VIBRATES THE METAL BOX. EVERYONE INSIDE FEELS QUEASY.

THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSE, AND IT BEGINS THE SLOW DESCENT....

a crackling robotic voice says "NEXT STOP.... SUB-BASEMENT45"

A JOLT, and the door opens.

You see a room full of GREEN clones in lab cotas, working at strange stations. They all turn and look at you.

"nEXT STOP... SUB-BASEMENT 44"

The elevator is at the end of the hall, beckoning with it's cool flourescent light....

Hi any more clones needed.

Sure. PM me the details, and meet everyone by the elevator, tout d'suite.

Having cleaned up all the treason, I salute Doc. Ready to be escorted to our mission location, sir!

2R-L8 helps you clean... and as it does, you THINK you hear it soflty whisper

"pullll.... the haaaaaandllllle"

As they say in Greyhawk...

"The hand strikes, but gives a flower...."

An old Maintenance Bot on big, heavy treads rolls up and wraps a cable around the headless corpse, and drags it away, leaving a streaking trail of crimson on the linoleum.

The gated window opens, and the Requisitions Officer says "You guys still here? My memo from HPD says you're on a time-sensitive return for this gear. LATE RETURNS ARE TREASON. "

He looks at his handheld device.... then looks up.

"TRAP-R-JON-1? 'Commendation for Valor in the Fact of High Treason and Murderous Intent.' That just came through on the service wire for this detail. Everyone on this team is getting a 100 credit reward for an assist in the termination of a known traitor."

"Congratulations, Citizens. All glory to the great Computer whose benevolence protects us all!"

He turns to leave...

Everyone thinks they here him mumble "100 credits? Nice. I take bribes...."

I rolled a natural 20 on my grenade throw and nothing happened wtf! Rolls don't matter at all it seems. I'll find a better way to waste my time.

You never told me what you were attempting to do that the nat 20 affected. Were you aiming for the center of the group? You succeeded.

There's a delay on a the grenade, and None managed to deflect it with a clever move that was funny and a callback to a story thread.

Generating chaos by pulling a pin is easy. Now everybody is dead and the game is stalled out.

Using an established prop and character-consistent actions to keep the story moving in a funny way is a challenge. Now we keep moving and there's more meat to the game. Trap has no compunction murdering someone! None and the scrub-bot are falling in love! Etc etc

Trap tsks. "When a teammate goes awry

His brains must surely fry
Grenades cannot sing
Computer lovers sing!
AND WE MURDER THOSE TRAITORS HARD!"

He shoots Corn in the noggin.

IMAGINE THIS IN SLOW MOTION.

Trap raises his laser gun. Corn looks up, dripping wet. 2R-L8 is undulating, near the ground, "face" down, groaning softly.

The laser blast vaporises Corn's head into a chunky mist. As the spray of bone, hair, and bright red blood spread out in a cloud of hot death, the grenade finally explodes, lighting up the end of the hallway in a soft white-blue glow of destruction.

There is a tremor in the corridor, but everyone manages to keep on their feet. Corn's body stands for an awkardly long time before collapsing in a heap.

Strange small crinkly, sealed bags with strange writing spill out of Corn's shoulder satchel. (https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2170/3719/products/Andy_s_Hot_Fries_3_oz _grande.png?v=1500232884)

2R-L8 emits a final "GUuuuuuuuhhhhhhh...." before returning to an "at ready" position, floating in the air

The water spout rediretcs the grendade successfuly, although none of NONE's shots hot their target.... the grenade flies into the end of the corridor, rolling out sight with a tinny sound echoing throughout the hall.

Corn is soaked with water.

2R-L8 is shivvering, and emitting a low moan.

Doc LUV wrote:

As Get warns None against touching his friend again, Doc clears his throat and hands Get a laser barrel. He continues handing out laser barrels till *everyone except Charles has one.

*Highlight is mine

(Just keeping everyone on their toes)

None drops his Corn chips and kicks 2R-L8 into the path of the grenade. As the grenade hits the bowl of the bot, None dives for the silvery handle. The water spout sends the grenade into the air. None spins with his back to the floor, and his gun firing. All the while, he hopes to ignite the explosive over and away from them.

[dice=rollin']1d20

(Are you sure you have a barrell for your gun?)

TO M HUMAN, "NONSENSE! HOW would YOU know they were treasonous unless you were committing treason?"

{"M HUMAN" is your dungeonmaster, ding dong.}

FRIEND COMPUTER and Glorious Citizen Team Leader! Safety Officer is jeopardizing the stability of this mission by making irresponsible/felonious accusations. He is also apparently preparing to discharge his weapon without regard to the safety of other team members. DOES NO ONE APPRECIATE A BAG OF CORN CHIPS???

Corn is holding a bag of "Corn Chips" and looking at both NONE and TEAM LEADER DOC LUV simultaneously.

There are no COMPUTER ports or access points in this corridor, and the Requistions Officer has closed the window.

But those "CORN CHIPS" are definintely a relic of Old Times and DEFINITELY TREASONOUS CONTRABAND.

Is it just the 4 of us playing now? Several members haven't posted in a while.

Some people check in with less frequency- it's a slow paced situation. No biggie.

None's fingertips gently brush the handle atop 2R-L8.

Water suddenly rushes out of the basin, at least 5 gallons, everywhere, forming a large puddle beneath the Bot and soaking None's sleeve.

2R-L8 groans in it's robotic monotone "GUHHHHHHHHHHHH.....OHHHHOAHHHHHHH........ GUGHHHHHHHHHHH"

"PUH PUH.... PUH.... PLEEASE DO NOT PULL HANDLE"

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH..... "

The troubleshooter manning the requisitions window is leafing through a large clipboard, checking off items as he cross-references the ticket stub from SAR against a bill clipped to the wall in front of him.

Several Infrareds begin rolling out wooden cases filled with excelsior and strange stiff strings of brown material... it smells unlike anything you've ever experienced, and makes your nostrils itch. The gear is then showed to DOC, who is handed what you assume is a printed equipment inventory. But who knows for sure? It could be a death warrant for any one of you traitors.

Lastly, what looks like a floating urinal with arms comes out of a gated doorway. HAnging in the air about four feet off the ground, it is white, smooth and has chrome piping at the back and top. the arms are long and spindly, with tubing running up and down between the "body" and the white gloved "hands". One of the arms waves and a light flashes up from the "basin", against the interior of it's shell, as a hollow, shrill voice says:

"HI EVERYBODY I AM SCRUB-BOT DESIGNATE 2R-L8! I AM PLEASED AS PUNCH TO BE WORKING WITH YOU TODAY! FIRST THINGS FIRST PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH MY CHROME HANDLE. EVERYONE WANTS TO, PLEASE DON'T. IT'S JUST COURTESY. I'D REALLY YOU RATHER DIDN'T DO IT. THAT IS ALL!"

A high pitched beeping begins, and irritates all who hear it.

"TRANSMISSION RECIEVED: I AM TO LIASON SPECIFICALLY WITH CLONE DESIGNATE GET-R-DON-1 WHO HAS EXPERIENCE INTERFACING WITH SCRUB-BOTS. I AM PLEASED AS PUNCH TO EB WORKING WITH YOU! PLEASE DON'T TOUCH MY HANDLE!"

(https://www.americanstandard-us.com/-/media/sites/asus/images/products/uri nals/allbrook-urinal_-6541511/silo/6541511020-allbrook-urinal.png BUT WITH ARMS )

Soooo....Paranoia has a longstanding convention of taking all OOC talk as IC, often immediately before termination. Do we want to do that? Do we want to make this channel "safe" but gameplay a free-for-all? Do we want to make IC "IC" and OOC "OOC" and not have that bleed over?

There is so much going on that it's easier for me to have OOC, when needed in gameplay.

I'm juggling a lot of behind the scenes stuff.... keeping everything straight means its helpful if I can communicate in every channel possible.

KEEP IN MIND, THOUGH.... I might very well decide that an OOC comment is IC, if it is makes things funny.

Waiting on my PM back from the GM about 30 minute break activity in case it ends up being relevant.

[You will not be late for the meeting, FYI. Just ... you know.... the situation stands. As it were.]

{Everyone plase PM me with your activities in teh 30 minutes between leaving this debriefing and meeting back up at the Equipment depot}

None enters late. He looks around with a pleasant smile on his face. He grabs an empty mug and is about to fill it, as the pot of coffee-like drink heads out the other door. He stares at the area. You're not sure where, as his eye is not only lazy but collecting welfare. He drinks deep from the empty cup and lowers it with a satisfied sigh. Friend Computer tells me that my meager skills as troubleshooter are needed HERE!

A static-garbled voice relays over the intercoms....

"TROUBLESHOOTERS: PLEASE DELIVER ANY AND ALL MUNITIONS OR POTENTIAL EXPLOSIVES TO NONE-R-NONE IMMEDIATELY, AND FOR THE DURATION OF THIS MISSION. HE IS ASSIGNED AS YOUR SAFETY OFFICER, AND HAS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PRIVATE ORDERS REGARDING THIS MISSION IN HIS DOSSIER.

HE SHOULD BE CARRYING ANY AND ALL DANGEROUS EXPLOSIVES AT ALL TIMES."

Will I be getting a dossier? or should I just post in gameplay thread?

Oddly, there is not a dossier with your name on it anywhere on the table. Suspicious?

YES.

(please feel free to post in gameplay)

"Why, it's among the best!" she says, the smile on her face never fading, as she had already drunk the foul drink with genuine glee earlier.

She nods, "We will meet at the Doc and the Team at the GENERAL OUTBOUND TROUBLESHOOTER DEPOT EQUIPMENT ASSIGNMENT CENTER in 30 minutes."

This seems to make sense to everyone. Prep your gear, whatnot. Nothing shady at all. Perfectly routine.

Katlin bolts urgently, and confidently.

An Infra-red maintenance worker enters to clean the table top with an oily rag, and puts the coffee pot under his arm like a football.

He is singing a song to himself that no one recognizes.

How do I equipment?

Depending on what you need, you will have to file a request with the appropriate requisitions officer.

Your mission facing gear will be distributed according to the quartermaster claim stub given to your team leader.

Any personal gear should be on your character sheet, as pre-generated by {REDACTED}

Is anyone opposed to dropping perversity points for this game?

Just as a mechanic, it works better in liveplay

Play-by-post has the advantage of private messaging, which means a lot more can be done in secret, whicg should balance out the loss of perversity....

Thoughts?

Are you still taking clones?

Sure... why not?

Would still be NON, this smacks of treasonous sabotage.

Tough but fair. We will have to investigate the non-orthodox naming convention of the Far Western quadrant after this mission...

I want my dossier and I f'ing want it now!

You'll wait your turn to take your medicine and like it!

I keep noticing, people forget to fill in their section letters. That bit that you have listed as none should be filled with a three letter designation, like how I have LUV in my name, or Dudley has LEF.

There's a big dormitory with the designation "NON" in the fifth quadrant. It smells like cabbage.

SOOOOOO....

Here's how this SHOULD go.

I will do a lot of Private Messaging. Actual gameplay should be player-led toa great degree. I will pop in to keep things moving, give directions when needed, and play NPCs, but otherwise, you should not see a ton of me in the GAMEPLAY.

Cool?

CLEARLY, someone left their dossier open, and visible.

You can choose to read that private dossier, which would be treason, or ignore it which the computer would prefer.

SAR-G-ENT-6 stands, and says, "Study those dossiers. Your Team Leader, DOC-R-LUV will take it from here."

Sar hands Doc a laminated overhead diagram that maps out the way to Corridor Sub-level ALA-BMA.

"Stop at PLC: Field Logistics on the way... here is a Work Order for Special Equipment Provisions."

He pulls a tiny ticketstub from his back pocket, and hands it to Doc.

"Don't FUDGE this up, you worthless Red scum! Or it's YOUR ASSES."

He storms away, turning right before he leaves, and shouts "FINISH THAT COFFEE TYPE DRINK. MY FEELINGS ARE HURT THAT NO ONE DRANK ANY.:

He wipes a tear from one eye and stomps out the exit hatch.

Everyone should have their Dossiers with assignments.

GAMEPLAY ON

I'm ready for some hot blooded lip smacking adventure.

Send me your character sheet info vis Private Message, and then meet us in "gameplay".

Doc takes a seat behind the rest of the group, moving just fast enough to avoid treasonous sloth charges. He runs his hand along his hair, checking everything is all right, you never know who's looking on.

Doc reads over his dossier, and attempts to side eye the other's files without drawing attention to himself.

How are we handling rolls and perversity? I am more than happy to let computer roll all the dice off screen and only tell us what happens and not the actual roll. Seems very paranoia.

{if it's something secret, I will roll for you. Any skill attempts you want to openly make, feel free to roll on your own}

I will start sending out top secret dossier info via PM today and tonight.

Sar stands up, and and pours himself a cup of oily, jet black, COFFEE-STYLE HOT DRINK. It smells like hot motor oil.

"Everyone is almost here, so you citizens can take a seat, and start checking your assignments. This mission will be logged in your TROUBLESHOOTER SERVICE PERMANENT RECORD as "GRO-PE 12".

Several of your dossiers are EYES ONLY and CONFIDENTIAL, so make sure youre not sharing, or sneaking traitorous peeks at your neighbor's file. LOOSE LIPS SINK CLONE'S ASSES."

He starts pacing steadily and angrily.

"Doc-R-LUV will be Team Leader on this assignment. I expect you to show him ABSOLUTE LOYALTY, as if he is the eyes, ears, and long fingers of the Computer itself. If he reports back to me any impudence, uncertainty, or incompetence, I will CRAM YOUR FACE INSIDE MY BOOT. You will most definitely EAT CHAIN."

"GOT IT, YOU RED PUKES!?!?"

As everyone gathers into the SUB-CORRIDOR FRT commissary, you see bright white walls, twelve red tables with benches, all empty.

The flourescent light is stronger than usual, and makes your eyeballs vibrate slightly. At a table in the center of the room, sits a large, gray-haired, crew-cutted clone in a Green jumpsuit, with a nametag reading Sar-G-ENT-6, and wearing a PRODUCTION, LOGISTICS, and COMMISSARY badge.

He is sitting with his arms crossed.

There are several dossiers on the table, as well as a pot, and a stack of paper cups.

If anyone approaches, Sar grunts "wait until everyone is here".

Friend Computer! Friend Computer! I submitted my application to join this troubleshooting squad at the appropriate time, but a Commie Mutant Trator stole it before it reached your infallible CPU. Is there still room for a lowly but loyal troubleshooter?

Of course, citizen, our troubleshooter team needs one more capable individual.

Your accusation that Internal Security allowed such a heinous breach in security is troubling, however. Submit to Interrogation Booth to get to the bottom of this!

This is what was pushed out

Got it, thanks!