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I'm thinking of an integer between 1 and 3 {inclusive}
Are there any PF/SF cons held in Vegas? I was gonna suggest a side trip when I can visit Hmm and you again. But then I remembered I don’t gamble IRL ;)
Thanks for helping me out (again ;), Barat.
Thank-you, Hmm :) That coming from you means a lot. And thanks everyone for a great game! I thoroughly enjoyed it. And of course, thank-you GM Hmm for organizing and running it. You are the best!
Maybe it’s true that this hole extends all the way to Hell … When Lena first learnt of ‘The Pit’ and the treasure rumored to exist at its bottom, she became obsessed. Originally a natural sinkhole occurring on the surface of a desert moon orbiting Deepwater II, it had twice been extended by separate mining companies that had both gone bankrupt without finding a sniff of the rich siccatite deposits remote sensors indicated where trapped within the strata. But with Lena involved, this time it would be different. The greatest obstacle had been securing an interview with the entity who could grant her request. After several dozen con-creatures and middle folk had their palms, paws and tentacles greased, Lena was introduced to the Ixo Syndicate deputy undermanager responsible for the prison-labor activity being conducted in the Pit. After ether-netting a credit sum that would ensure the woman’s children’s grandchildren would never have to work again, Lena was granted the documentation required to access the site. Now, three agonizing months later the final stage of her journey was ending inside a lightless elevator-cage slowing to a halt at the bottom of a kilometres deep shaft, during the prison-miners’ mid-shift meal break. Clambering up walls and over tables, the drone shone her util-light into the dirty faces of dozens of exhausted prisoners queuing for a meagre lunch, before she found the right one. Leading the confused, malnourished rag-pile by her slender wrist back to the elevator plat, Lena silenced the angry overseer by thrusting a legal electron-free permapad into the Nuar’s face. “I bear a Full Pardon for Prisoner #MN 149 000. Now I humbly request you allow me to take my partner, Catarina Jurado home.”
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
“I’m here in Steepshore on my employer’s business, Inspector.” Lena is all business herself! “He doesn’t deign to favor the help with his agenda, apart from the bare minimum necessary to keep him safe.” “However, my boss is a generous man. He appreciates the work I do for him, and knows I have a ladyfriend here in town.” “As such, he has given me the night off to visit her. If you care to utilize this comm code — bumping physical transmitters will transfer the data, if your system isn’t compatible with a mobile Ethernet connection, Inspector — Arda will confirm all that I’ve just told you.”
“You’ll just have to mention you’re enquiring about the movements of …” Lena looks around embarrassedly, hoping nobody other than the Police Officer will overhear. “… her Little Snuggleuffagus.”
“My name is Zim, Inspector. Z-I-M.” Lena’s tone is respectful, as though she understands that the law enforcement official's task is necessary. “If I’m not registered alphabetically in the normal passenger manifest, you will probably find me listed as travelling with a Mr Brom.” ★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
“Attention to detail is crucial on this job, Lena. And you’ve already accumulated one strike.” Cruising past the limit of her ex-employer’s Kettle’s Posh Chicken catchment, Lena takes her new boss’s criticism on the hard underside of her frontal casing. The ensuing silence inside the slick Redshift Hallajan lasts long enough for Arda to begin calculating the odds of Lena responding violently, before a wall of <<TXT>> easily Three Terabytes long *Flashes* across the drone’s outerface VDU. Somebody has been thinking — hard. “If it’s commitment to detail you want, Arda, I can deliver. But in return, I need you to back me up.” Lena breaks the silence as she pulls a Multiversal Serial Bus from her central comms unit and hands it to her curious recruiter. “This holds the 2,250,000,000 most likely reasons I will need an alibi on this job, my cover story and how you should react if contacted by Law Enforcement.” “If you patch the MSB into our private comm net, I will include a code in the transmission unit the Filth use to contact you, which automatically highlights which pre-programmed response you should make to keep my cover (and ass) intact.” Lena snuggles into the firm isopolymer upholstery of the throaty grav-ster. “Enough detail for you?”
"Zim, can you take care of them? I gotta call things in!" “No problem, bud. You do what you gotta do.” 🍸 Back in the VIP car, Lena can’t see much reason not to tell the room what she knows. “The train has been attacked by an enercopter piloted by Royce Flynn. Mr Flynn and several accomplices escaped the crash by roping or leaping onto the train. I’m not exactly sure what caused the ‘copter to blow up, while doing so little damage to the train.” “I *think* it collided with the lip of the tunnel we’re currently in – but honestly, I can’t believe the explosion didn’t do more damage.” “A few crates in the cargo bay were damaged however. One contained a Space Eel, which went on a short rampage before being taken out by me and these people.” Lena gestures to Barat and Kevan, before making eye contact with the worried human woman. “You’ve got nuthin to worry about on that score now, ma’am.” "I heard there are saboteurs on the run!" “Last I saw, Mr Flynn was trapped in a storage locker that I couldn’t get into. But a couple of his people survived their encounter with me.” Lena looks chagrined at this. “But while they are technically still at large, security has locked down the train and is hunting them down. We’re also not far from help now. So if we all remain calm, for sure we’ll be fine.” She pauses. “One last thing. Those guys on the run have access to all sorts of technical trickery, will say anything to save themselves, are armed, and have absolutely nothing to lose.” ‘Zim’ nods grimly to Brom and the other bodyguards. “In the unlikely event they breach our perimeter, I recommend the application of lethal force on-sight.”
"I gotta catch this guy. Zim, wanna help me?" “Do I? More than you know, pal. But listen.” Lena points at the Nuar’s weapon. “You’ve got the longarm and can stalk the saboteur from the top. You’re the hammer.” “I’m lighter and faster. What say, I drop down the hatch and race to the end of the train. Head up-top and ready an ambush. I’m the anvil, see?” Lena is beaming like she’s always wanted to say these words. “A classic pincer maneuv…” "I can pay in some great merch …" “Whoa! My man here just played the ‘merch’ card.” Lena gives the Nuar a lopsided grin and shrug. “We’d be crazy to say ‘no’ to that, right?” “Don’t you guys sponsor Mu's Fight Club®? Got any signed, game-worn stuff?” She exchanges glances with the Nuar. “You in, buddy?”
“Nah, more like trying to squeeze you for info, so the Boss could get a better price. He does like your product. Definitely give him a call when all this is done.” Lena shrugs. “As for the deception thing — yeah, sorry man. Just business.” “Heh, heh. You don’t wanna know what the Boss does to snitches!”
"We'd just stepped away for a quick sales strategy huddle when there was this terrible explosion …" “The Boss asked me to cozy up to them on a secure link, find out their sales strategy – all the while pretending to be all bent out of shape about riding the roof, and willing to turn my coat.” “Anyways, I’m sure glad the Boss made me do it.” Lena points at Zim. “He obviously can’t be me, because if I’d stayed on the roof when that explosion happened, I’d be dead.” “He’s probably one of the would-be thieves that caused the explosion. If they were surveilling the grav-train from the air before they made their move, disguising themselves as me to infiltrate the train makes perfect sense.” “’Cos I’m the only soldier they coulda got a good look at.”
"Can we each get a suit too?" "No." Lena/Zim sounds amazed at their audacity. "You can't abseil down a rope to kill someone and then expect them to give you the shirts off their racks." "You should thank Sales Guy and his Missus that you're still alive." 😀 Lena/Zim hums some poetry to hide her nervousness. “Mr Brown can whisper, whisper.
“Maybe you can do it too, Genuine Local Itjikri?
Hope you’re OK with the Quentin Tarantino/Mr Brown-ish look for Zim, GM. Also, I believe there is time for Lena to spend an RP to restore her SP’s to full, yes?
“Sod it! Times up.” With the train shortly due to arrive at Destination NOBODY GETS OUT ALIVE, Lena makes her decision. “So we have the Time-Share Sales Exec, his SO and BG. What he needs now is to recruit a disgruntled Whale’s employee, who knows all the right buttons to push on his ex-boss, in order to land a BIG sale.” “An employee who … I don’t know … just spent the last hour riding on top of a grav-train because his boss lost at Skimmer.” Lena tosses Brom’s datapad to Barat to clean, as she rifles through holoskins. “Any of these look like Zim?”
“There you go, Barat. What do you think?” Lena scales the walls-ceiling-walls as she looks ‘over’ her creation. “The pink and green parts don’t really clash at all! (If you squint).” “And as for the back — Well! I hear tails are BIG on the Shoony Homeworld this year.” Lena darts away at the first opportunity to begin building the crate staircase with the grav-crane.
"Ah, maybe I shouldn't hog all the action. Did you want to have a go, Kevan?"
N00b question incoming: do we have any healing medicine (like CLW wands) that can cure SP damage? Also, GM Hmm, I would ideally like 24 hours or so to think of a holoskin concept for Lena, and why that person would have been aboard the train, and why they’re so keen to leave carrying heavy things. After AONing Ulrikka Clanholdings my first thought is a dwarven mining exec out for a good time and networking opportunities with Brom & co OR a dwarven salvage captain/buccaneer attracted to a potential train/ener-copter crash. Both are kinda meh … What about pretending to be Zim, Brom’s goon who rode the roof of the train (and maybe died up there?) Dunno. Wouldn’t mind a little time to cook something up – or am I over-thinking this?
<LNA, you could trade one rescue for another. Royce gets rescued in exchange for your friend. Different subject, what did you want me to stop?> <<Positive thought, Big B. However, Lena not sure the institution holding Catarina would want a slimy stack of slick like Royce>> <<RE: STOP; CONJECTURE: perhaps Aeliah was feeling nostalgic after seeing the longswords? QUERY: Was there never telegrammetry in pre-light speed Vesk civilization?>> “Tell me what yer thinkin' your plan is …” <<FOXTROT OSCAR NETH ZEBRA>>
If needed? another vote for Kool and the gang.
<<Thank-you for the BG assist, Barat STOP>>
Soooo worth it! Lena bats out a few minor flare-ups with her metal arms as she considers Royce’s predicament. Attempting to get the Rainbow Pirates’ attention by *clicking* her fingers — before remembering she doesn’t have fingers — Lena points at some heavy lo-val crates and then the humans and then makes a pushing gesture towards the front of Royce’s ‘cell’ door. "Er... Guys? I appear to be locked in here. Aramesh, Lena.... You knew it was just business, right?" "Of course, Royce." "Wait one … I’m receiving a microwave-link SMS from Mu's Alien Associates™ Hmm … once Fight Club’s over they want to cross live to you, Royce for an after-dark, insider’s episode of Storage War$ — Great Grav Train Robbery edition." *Aghast* "Maybe you should knock them back though. They’re only offering 100,000 credits per episode!" "Should I tell them you want out, or are you happy to stay put?"
Longswords? Really? Maybe we’re not as far removed by the VOID as I thought … With a flank courtesy of Aramesh, Lena tries her trick attack on Gold Shirt this time.
<<Barat? ... — — — ... >>
"AbadarCorp files Chapter 11! Who uses longswords in the 4th century? I take it Royce is too cheap to spring for something cool like a Nuevo Minkaen katana?" “I just realized, Kevan. That abseil from Arda’s egg-beater makes you a genuine Drop-bear.”
Acting like nothing would surprise her, Lena gives Royce the middle metal digit before turning her tricksy retractable spike to a more practical purpose against the green dinosaur.
Like she’s received a sudden kinetic energy JOLT to her rear end, universal balance is restored and Lena goes back to work! She takes a 5’ step into the Eel’s face, and attempts a debilitating trick attack with her operative tactical retractable spike.
Emergency power failing, Lena stands rigidly among the chaos, like a drinks waiter ‘droid on a sky-yacht, frozen into inaction by a violent mutiny taking place around them.
The remain doggedly in place as Lena wonders if she’ll be tossed in the recycle-hopper before she gets the chance for a reboot. Emergency battery power trickles a loop of subconsciousness through her neural pathways, the drone superstitiously willing the Eel to pick up on it. Bite me! Professional decoy right here! Bite me! Professional decoy right here! Bite me! Pro…
Lena feels her operating network sloooow and then ❆FREEZE❆ in fear(?) of the formidable freshwater fish. drop over her input sensors, as she waits anxiously for incoming bytes.
“STATEMENT: Years ago I had a Vesk suit from AbadarCorp named Gordon tell me ‘greed was good.’” Lena scratches her neural casing with a metal digit – an inadvertent imitation of her human ex-business partner Catarina Jurado. “Lena has tested that hypothesis multiple times over the ensuing years.” “CONCLUSION: Statement is FALSE.” The drone changes frequencies to the team net, in the event that Arda Vonn is still monitoring it. <<Complete accordance with Aramesh>>
<< Still alive? What's taking so long? A crate fall on you or something?>> <<Not yet but we're working on it!>> ♥ ♥ Sheesh! Who died and made her … Hmm, what exactly IS Kevan doing? Lena walks up the wall again, before hanging from the ceiling in front of the Technomancer’s line-of-sight. “C’mon Kev! The crane’s passcode is easy to crack! The lazy apes have obviously used the second largest Mersenne prime as their base pair’s monad.”
“Oh … you’ve already solved it.”
Lena’s memory case tilts up and down in agreement with the Arameshs’ comment, when suddenly … “NO, IT CANNOT BE!” She leans forward, points a lever-arm over Brom’s shoulder and emits a tinny *gasp* “There behind the bar!” If Brom turns to look, she takes the opportunity to pick his pocket. :
“Sorry, sorry. False alarm. I thought I saw Aroden.” Lena lifts her drink suspiciously. “Someone must have spiked my Blackwind™ Antifreeze with H2O.”
Seeing how well the automatic thermostat trick worked, Lena pretends to insert one her winning credits into the holo-entertainment system while she attempts to hack its central core. Shortly after the whole room is distracted by the strong, contralto voice of CAPTAIN☆CARMINE, lead singer of the Pact World’s all-time, bestselling sugar pop sensation! Strawberry Machine Cake®
Sadly, Lena seems to have patched into one of their throw-back cover-homages to the 280’s ... ♪ She says, we gotta tie him up with a square knot
♪ Whoa whoa. There’s fur and hair!
saboteur:
Yeah, I read the item about 5 progress points :) But didn't know how to work out if that condition had been met given dice rolls were supposed to be under spoilers. Since in doubt, I thought I'd 'bot' the pickpocket roll under a spoiler, so as not to slow the game down and let our GM make a ruling ☮
Lena, let's find out if you lose Barat's credits and must spend time on top of the train. Please give me a Bluff, Intimidate and Sense Motive check now. One each, please. For some reason, Lena can't make direct ocular sensor contact with Barat.
With the die set to fly, Lena relaxes knowing the outcome is largely out of her manipulation digits. This doesn’t stop her acting the ‘donkey’, hopefully convincing the other players she is not terribly bright, so they’ll let their guard down. “BAD SKIM! Oi, Digger! No odds! Tails, tails never fails!” ◯➁ Win, lose or oddsed-out, Lena will graciously shake digits/high 1 vs 5 with the other winners/losers, allowing her the perfect chance to try to lift Brom’s datapad. “Bad luck, mate. Not long ‘til payday and you can try again/Yeah, I love the feel of the wind through my antennae – and surfing the steel worm will give me plenty of time to make a move on the train’s central processor – I can tell she wants to share relay circuits with me.” :
One of the LED displays on Lena’s front-panel *winks* out then on, as she gives Barat a manipulation-digit’s up. “Between my neural net and your deep-pockets, Barat, what could possibly go wrong.” "A sixty credit stake is a little low, but we can start small." “Well if you want to kick it up a quantum or two, how about the loser has to spend the rest of the journey on the roof of the train?”
“Nice shirt, Mr Flynn. Do they make them for men?” Lena scuttles across to the bar, and nods respectfully to the Lashunta underboss. "Skimmer? Maybe, what's the stake?" The combat drone inclines her head deferentially to envoy. “While we’re negotiating that, how about a side bet: 60 credits against the present condition of Catarina Jurado?” "You know, just to get our circuits warmed up."
"My Ijtikri bodyguard is carrying my stake."
“The entity means the gut, not the face, Barat.” After her icy shower, Lena is keen to show the Ijtikri how it’s done – her metal limbs repeatedly tenderizing the beef. Sated for the moment, the combat drone crawls up a wall, and along the ceiling to hang upside down while she manipulates the door.
With a nod to Aramesh, Lena throws her multiple manipulation digits about like a giant flea shiver-spasming from the ❆cold❆
She then appears to ignore the guard, locking onto his comm link. “QUERY: What does it mean if the game-judge holds one of the Beefy Folk’s hands up in the air above her head?”
“Do not concern yourself, BRAVO OSCAR. Not even Lena perfect –– yet.” The combat drone scrurries forward 10 feet and with a clear shot, fires a needle loaded with amblaree poison at the mino-guard. “Besides; any additional expenses incurred as the resultant of an individual’s negligence will be subtracted from their share.”
QUERY: What is it about Inner World Meats and Sports? CONJECTURE: Hypothesize they have not got enough imagination to have a real life. “ATTENTION: Because of LIMA NOVEMBER ALPHA’s scurry ability, allies can occupy her space without penalty.”
“And I don’t want any f+&+in’ corn …” Slaved into the com network of the local Kettle’s Posh Chicken franchise, Lena can’t prevent three SMILE emojis flashing across the front of her outerface, as her latest biochemically-enhanced customer reaches past the greasy pane of the grav-through window to snatch the 100% recyclable FLASH™ bag from her manipulation digits. 😃 😃 😃 “Have a nice day, Sir.” she replies automatically. The cretin responds with a sneer, spinning up his servos rapidly enough to produce a cloud of smoking plasma, as he gravs off into the dark of another graveyard shift in Pan’s Underward. Lena is beyond even a silent sigh as she turns to the surveillance screen, where the next customer cruises into view in a … 268 Redshift Hallajan(!) Flash grounder for this ward, Baby. Hope you got the know-how to secure her. “Welcome to KPC. May I take your order?” The operator’s window slides silently to the side, as a clipped female voice responds immediately and precisely. “I’d like an LNA-400 combat drone, please. Scouting and Infiltration spec. One that can handle scanners, radios and knows the drill.” “That cool? And I’ll take a side of corn. Gravving up to the first window, where I need an answer. Right now. Yes or no." Pros and cons, reduced to a series of 0 and 1s ⚡ flash ⚡ through Lena’s cerebral matrix at near light speed, as the brash grounder hauls up to her open window. “What’s it gonna be, Lena?” Arda Vonn’s green Slaad-like features scowl from the grounder’s dim interior, like she doesn’t care either way. “Yeah, Woman. F~@! it. You’re on.” Disconnecting from the ethernet, no doubt setting off a silent alarm in her supervisor’s Ready Room, Lena tears off her hygiene-cover and squeezes her flea-shaped outer casing through the grav-through window, demonstrating at least one of her skills has not dulled. Twenty seconds later, with the pair gravving side-by-side through Pan’s early morning, Arda commences the briefing. “Attention to detail is crucial on this job, Lena. And you’ve already accumulated one strike.” A tiny electric motor whirrs as Lena’s casing yaws to permit her optical sensors to fix Arda’s quizzically. “You forgot my f@$!in corn.”
“Affirmative.” “FYI: I have also uploaded the ‘Akitonian’ language chip to my main processor.”
“Pact Councillor Hotel Mike Mike: “If the statement of the entity with the unlikely call-sign ‘Nomadical’ is accurate *scoff* my program is missing a language interpretation and transmission sub-routine.” “Would you prefer to designate the replacement language program, or is it acceptable for li’l ol’ me to choose one of the Pact Worlds’ native languages, such as Triaxian?” "Message Ends ... Lena."
“Pact Councillor Hotel Mike Mike: “If the statement of the entity with the unlikely call-sign ‘Nomadical’ is accurate *scoff* my program is missing a language interpretation and transmission sub-routine.” “Would you prefer to designate the replacement language program, or is it acceptable for li’l ol’ me to choose one of the Pact Worlds’ native languages, such as Triaxian?” "Message Ends ... Lena."
"I ain't your Mom's 'Bot-Buddy.'" |