Storytiming my shadowrun game here. If you want to storytime something, that's fine too. Anyway, here goes!
Shadowrun storytime
<<alt.mecha.live, 18/3/79>>
\\Static: Hey, chummers, check this out! I managed to get my hands on the unedited footage for Micro Mecha Musume⭐Perfectly Powerful Pixie. Remind me whose hacking skills are supposedly obsolete again?
\\D0utr: Bulldreck. I’ve taken a peek around Adrianne’s host. It’s fucking impossible to get into.
\\Static: That’s why I didn’t. Broke into her agent’s host instead. He had a copy of the footage. Apparently she was going to publish it later as some kind of tellall.
\\Huffy: You’ve got my interest. A. Cute’s not virtual, but she’s close enough I’m willing to pretend.
\\D0utr: Your obsession with AI is sick. They’re programs, not people.
\\Huffy: Assuming a deterministic universe, there’s not much of a difference. Anyway, this doesn’t matter. Static, cough up the goods.
\\Static: Okay. Here goes.
<file uploaded: weeb_trash.sim>
\\Huffy: wait, did you rename it or something? That’s not funny.
\\Static: It was like that when I found it, honest. Now hush.
<beginning playback>
<<Los Angeles, Pueblo Corporate Council, 2/2/76>>
I sighed as I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the headlights. Fucking Pizgano’s.(Or possibly Pizganos’, or even Pizganos. The apostrophe seems to migrate across the sign whenever no-one is looking.) Out of all the possible places the mysterious Mr. Sanders could have chosen for us to meet, why did it have to be an elvish seafood restaurant run by a Sioux ork who knew nothing about elves, the sea, or food?
Unzipping myself from the miniature rigger cocoon, I remembered the need to establish some context for the audience. Sims are first person after all, and while the audience hears my thoughts, or at least an edited version of them , they don’t have my memories, so establishing context is rather important. I flew up to the pointless rearview mirror the regulations refused to let me remove and took a good look at myself to clue in any viewers who haven’t seen promotional photos already.
>>46017884
I looked good, but that’s not much of a surprise. I always look good. It’s not like I turned into a werebadger or something since the last time I looked. My hair continued to be red, my face continued to be perfectly shaped, and my wings continued to be iridescent. My outfit, however, was another story entirely. As much as I hated it, my show was pandering to weebs, and my outfit had to match. As a result, I was wearing some kind of stupid sailor uniform with a blue miniskirt, because apparently losers have a thing for genderswapped Popeye these days.
After a bit of thought, I struck a pose, hoping to make it at least somewhat more memorable. I was leaning forward of course. Nerds are a disgustingly horny target market. Didn’t hold the pose for too long though. A few seconds of titillation ought to be enough for the creeps.
\\Huffy: What the hell is this? She’s nothing like usual. It’s not supposed to be like this!
\\Static: Never see how the sausage is made, chummer.
With that bit of fanservice over and done with, I opened the window with a wave of my hand and flew out to establish what exactly it is I drove here in. A twelve meter long mass of burnished steel and gleaming chrome, the SMURF Mobile Command Center is an impressive sight, sure to piss off anyone else who wanted to park in the lot. Still, that’s basically 50% of the reason I drive an RV.
About to flit over to the restaurant, I realized I’m forgetting something: we’re all supposed to be wearing a red carnation in order to allow us to identify the other members of the team. With a grumble, I flew back into the RV to grab a blossom almost as tall as me.
\\Static: Let’s skip forward a bit. The next few minutes just consist of her struggling to cross a windy parking lot.
>>46017904
I made it across the parking lot, but only to encounter another issue: the door. Large enough to accommodate a troll and made out of equal parts steel and glass, there was no way that someone the size of a pigeon is going to be able to open it. Thankfully, like almost everywhere else in LA these days, there was a security guard beside the door, his cheap suit failing to hide the easily recognizable bulge of a gun. He didn’t notice me walking up, but judging the amount of attention he was paying to his comlink screen he hadn’t noticed anything in quite some time. Solution: fly in front of the screen. The only downside is I ended up seeing what he was watching. Didn’t realize trolls had dermal deposits down there too.
“Okay,” said the guard, quickly minimizing his video. “A few questions. One: what the hell are you? Two: why the fuck are you in the way of my screen?”
“I’m a pixie,” I said, somewhat indignantly. “Yes, we really exist. More importantly though, I’m a customer who can’t open the door.”
“Couldn’t you have said something?” he asked, thankfully while he opened the door. I really didn’t care enough to respond.
I entered the restaurant, only to be greeted by a sea of red carpeting broken up by empty synthwood tables. However, my search for other diners wearing red carnations was brought to a quick halt by a waiter who informed me that diners had to wait for the staff to seat them. I begin to explain the carnation situation to the waiter, but she quickly cut me off with a sigh.
“More of those cloak and dagger types?” she said. “Your table is on the second floor. Don’t break anything on the way up.”
I assured her that I couldn’t break anything even if I tried, and then quickly flew up the wrought iron spiral staircase in the corner of the room.
\\pTortle: Wrought iron? Does anyone even use that stuff anymore?
\\Huffy: Artistic license. It’s actually probably galvanized steel.
>>46017925
The second floor was much the same as the first: red carpeting, fake wood paneling, and fake wood tables. However, unlike the first floor, there’s a skylight in the center of the celling, and a few of the tables have people sitting at them. There were a few elves in suits at a table to the left side of the room, but their flowers seemed to be poppies. Underneath the skylight though? Jackpot.
At the table beneath the skylight, there was a party of three. The first, a dwarf wearing a badly fitting suit that seemed to be made for someone a third of his size. More notable, however, was the green and yellow mask he wore, obscuring his entire face. Around his neck was an entire wreath of red carnations. The second, a female satyr with erratically cut blonde hair, who was wearing what is quite possibly the most hideous suit I had ever seen (blindingly white, with chains hanging off it at random points) beneath a lime green overcoat. The flower pinned to her coat seemed to be a daisy, but someone had spray painted it red, so points for trying. The third, a brown haired elf wearing a cheap and rumpled suit, was notable only for the fact he was sleeping face down using some kind of carrier bag as a pillow. I wasn’t sure if he was wearing a carnation or not.
\\Huffy: Wait, what happened to Hatsune Miku?
\\pTortle: You do realize she’s not real, right? They edited her in. Replaced the elf with her, if I had to guess.
\\Huffy: You’re willing to accept the existence of magic and pixies, why not that of Hatsune Miku?
\\pTortle: That’s different.
\\Huffy: So you give up? I thought as much.
>>46017946
I landed in the center of the table, took a deep breath, and introduced myself in as bombastic and character establishing a manner as possible. “I am A’drianne d’Detroit,” I said with as much arrogance as I could muster. “To this team, I bring both my own skills as a pilot, but also the combined resources of the Supreme Mechanically United Riggers’ Front.”
“That’s nice,” said the satyr. “My name’s Zip, cuz I can run at over a hundred kilometers an hour. These guys probably have names too.”
The elf mumbled something that could have very possibly been “My name’s Burnout.”
“Of course it is,” said Zip. “You get many jobs with that name?”
“I am Blitz,” said the dwarf. “Are you also followers of the warriors’ way?”
“My height is measured in centimeters,” I said. “What kind of idiot would think-“
\\Static: I cut about a half an hour of bickering over if beating people to death with your bare hands is better than killing them with giant robots here. Trust me, it’s for the best.
“You know,” said Zip, “it’s been a while. Shouldn’t Mr. Sanders have arrived by now?”
As befits the laws of comedic timing, a grey haired white man in a suit, presumably Mr. Sanders, plunged through the skylight, landing on the table and breaking it in half.
“That’s a bit melodramatic,” I said, only to be quickly cut off by a grenade falling through the hole where the skylight once was, landing directly on Mr. Sanders’s chest. Needless to say, that was the point where my day started to go downhill.
And that's it so far. We've had two sessions since then, but I haven't written them up yet.
>>46017974
Good job OP, hell of a cliffhanger though.
Any ETA for the other sessions' writeups?
>>46018070
Sooner or later, depending on if college gets in the way.
And yeah, we ended the first session with that, and it was so cool I couldn't resist doing the same to you guys.
>>46017974
Zip a best.
>>46017842
><file uploaded: weeb_trash.sim>
This is from a bit ago, but here goes.
>>46021121
welp.jpg
>>46021693
That group is a bit of a stress relief group for my usually two or three other games. It's sometimes nice to just go full horrible neckbeard, and this group more than permits it.
I would never play in it if it wasn't full of good friends and of course tongue-in-cheek. The play area is in our That Guy's apartment (biological weapon disaster, often compared to Hell or R'lyeh), we're all horrible neckbeards and the jokes are not just horrible, but also worse than the ones in the screencap.
I can only feel good about it because everyone's in on it.
>>46021693
And I guess to actually contribute to the thread, there's the main event of our group's first session of shadowrun, from the perspective of our adept.
>the technomancer, a dwarf going by Technoviking (in all three senses of the word), has hobo with a shotgun quality and opts to sleep in the gutter outside my apartment after doing some hacking at my place
>I awaken to the sound of a screaming viking yelling at the rest of us to get downstairs to fight the devil
>walk out of apartment door to see a half naked dwarf only wearing Securetech PPP (Protect People's Privates) wielding an axe and facing down a devil rat on the sidewalk
>wat
>watch the dwarf fail to hit the rat for a couple passes, he doesn't even have 10 dice against the rat's 10 R+I
>recap: a mostly naked techno viking is fighting a rat with an axe in broad daylight in renton
>fuggit, put a round in the rat, and at the same time, the rigger fires up a rotodrone to put a burst in too
>the techno revels in his victory, removes any traces of bullet wounds with his axe, severs the head, and punts it back into the alley
>scream of elation
>GM asks for perception test, everybody swivels around and spots the schoolgirl behind the techno just recording everything on her commlink
>me with my gun and trenchcoat, the rat exploding, and the mostly naked techno
>the techno loses his composure, just yells his warcry at her
>she screams and runs away
>nearly gets hit by our fourth teammate (the infiltrator/streetsam) who lived nearby and was arriving by scoot
>techno doesnt feel like chasing, goes into VR to brick her commlink
>hurray ASIST
>face plants into the dead rat
>crashes the girl's commlink, corrupts the live stream she was broadcasting
>manages to wipe everyone but himself from the vid
>P2.0 now has a trending video of some lunatic viking impersonator mutilating a rat, then falling into it for some reason
Moral of the story: Houses are important, chummer.
>>46022064
And from the schoolgirl's perspective, because the GM wanted to.
>be me
>skipping school because it is SO lame
>naked dude gets chased out of an alley by a devil rat
>oh shit time for some viral video money
>start filming as he completely fails to hit the rat
>some woman walks out of the apartment building, stares, then shoots the rat
>the viking dude goes mental, hacking at the rat
>kicks the head into the alley, does a victory dance like he just scoreda goal
>Oh fuck video of the year
>viking looks up from the rat
>looks in my direction
>looks at me
>oh drek
>viking screams at me like an animal
>turn around to run, some fucking asshole nearly runs me over on a scoot
>what kind of grown man rides a scoot?
>run away, filming while I run
>get home, find out my link is trashed, video corrupted!
>piece of drek sony
>top P2.0 for the next week
>>46022104
>>what kind of grown man rides a scoot?
Clowns. They're like unicycles but dumber.
>>46023919
The scoot has since been retconned with Rigger 5.0's release to be a Cyclops, so now it's a monocycle which is... somewhat better. He's just not getting the "cool car" thing, though.
bump for more stories
I've got a shadowrun story!
Background:
The party is running for Horizon in a reality trid series that is basically The Amazing Race mixed with The Running Man (The party needs to go all around America, doing challenges and such, while bounty hunters are trying to kill them) where if they finish they get 5 million nuyen. The next leg of the race is in Manhattan, but to get there they need to meet with a decker named Alcatraz, who has fake IDs for them.
The party is currently:
>Saia Tam: A mage who lived on the CAS/Aztlan border for most of his life, and acted as a smuggler. A few deals went bad and a bunch of his friends ended up dead, he decided to get out of the game and when he found a golden ticket in a packet of Horizon brand Dewritos™ he found his chance. Name is an anagram of Saitama from One Punch Man, character also wears the same gettup Saitama does as distinctive style. Has yet to punch anyone and has 2 STR.
>Mountain Man: A troll who lived on the Aztlan side of the Aztlan/CAS border, when he goblinized in ~2045 he panicked, had a crisis of faith, and ran away from home, becoming a hermit in the woods/jungle for 25 years. Recently he decided to come back, and the first thing that happened to him was finding a golden ticket on the ground. Really good at punching things, isn't perfectly fluent in english and needs Saia to translate sometimes.
>Spitfire: A german neo-anarchist who more focused on fucking with corporations from the inside using subterfuge instead of rioting with pink mohawk friends. He ended up having to get out of the country after a partner of his hung him out to dry and told his network that he'd been working for S-K the whole time. Was wondering how to come back in a big way while eating a chocolate bar at an airport, found a golden ticket outside. Has a bunch of gadgets like a grapple gun and foam explosives. Fails to realize the irony of a neo-anarchist participating in a gameshow hosted by a megacorp and making them millions.
>>46030998
>Zed: Former shadowrunner who ended up settling down with one of his running partners and had a child, eventually their savings dried up and without any real alternative he went back into the shadowrunning game behind his partners back. He fucked up pretty bad on a few runs and now the Yakuza are holding his family for ransom, in a panic he quickly signed up after finding a golden ticket despite the ransom amount being much less than 5 million nuyen.
>Dirty Man: A man with a disfigured face and rare, untreatable disease, he's in it as a last ditch effort to fund an experimental treatment at a delta-level clinic in Hong Kong. In actuality he's an ex-CIA agent who fucked up an operation in the NAN and caused a lot of political fallout as well as getting a decent chunk of people killed. Disfigured himself as he feared the CIA silencing him/coming after him, wants the money to move to Hong Kong and start a new life. The most agile person in the party who routinely does crazy fucking stunts. Wasn't actually able to make any of the sessions that take place in this story, but I decided to include him anyway.
>>46031138
So, the session starts with the party pulling up to a really shitty apartment complex in a bad part of Jersey. This was apparently where they were supposed to meet with Alcatraz, so Zed decides to go in, while Spitfire is far too concerned about his car being stolen to go inside. Saia Tam stays as well because he's fucking lazy, and Mountain Man sticks with Saia most of the time. So Zed goes in alone, and finds the proper apartment after a short amount of searching. Knocking, he gets no response, so instead, he opts to bash the door open, which proves to actually be really easy. Inside the small two-room apartment is a mess, with fastfood, clothes, cutlery and garbage all over the place. It's so bad that Zed can't actually tell at first glance if it's the result of a struggle, or just constant neglect on the part of the owner. Putting that aside, Zed searched the small apartment and didn't turn up Alcatraz, although he does notice that the small terminal in his bedroom is on and unlocked. He digs through the messages and finds numerous expletive laden messages from one "Mister Big", the head of one "Rubinelle Family". From the emails, Zed gets the idea that Alcatraz stole some paydata or fucked these guys over, hard.
A lead gained, Zed starts to leave, but while he was searching the empty apartment Mountain Man noticed three gang looking mother fuckers heading into the apartment and shadows them reasonably well for being a fucking troll. The gangers confront Zed once they see him in the apartment, and pick a fight. This proves to be a bad idea, as Mountain Man almost kills one instantly and Zed shoots the leader in the gut, causing him to double over and start bleeding to death.
>>46031163
Interrogating the last remaining ganger, who doesn't feel like dying today, spills the beans.
Apparently they're just a small time outfit in the local area, but the Rubinelle Family contacted them to nab Alcatraz, for whatever reason. They had him delivered to a warehouse by the docks, at which point they handed him off to some Rubinelle muscle. The reason they were back here now is because they were searching for a hard drive or data disc or something that had information on it that Mr. Big wanted, badly. The party decides to be merciful and leaves, heading for the docks.
The warehouse the gangers gave them directions to seems to have been unused for a number of years, Mountain Man finds a shipping manifest on some old e-paper that's dated 7 years ago. Closer inspection however, reveals signs of recent activity, so the party decide to wait for whoever was here recently to come back. After about five hours of hiding and waiting, a small group of people show up and start loading some crates into a rusty shipping container, before leaving. The party investigate the container and crack the lock on it, to find out that the crates hold Betameth and Bliss which are basically future-meth and future-heroin. Before the party has a chance to do anything about it, the floor of the shipping container starts to descend, and they barely jump out before the floor goes too low, it seems the shipping container was actually a disguised lift.
>>46031319
Looking down with low-light vision enhancements, the party sees a few orcs and a dwarf unloading the crates about 9 meters below them, unaware of the party's presence. They do a lightening strike which involved Mountain Man straight up jumping on a guy from 9 meters, Saia Tam firing ball lightening, Zed shooting niggas left and right, and Spitfire playing hot potato with a flashbang grenade. The firefight comes to a close as Zed disarms the dwarf after all the orcs (and a troll) are cut down by combined fire. The only casualty is Saia Tam, who took a slug to the chest and is now at 2 physical boxes after some really bad first aid and magical healing rolls.
Looking around after the bullets stop flying, the party realizes that they are in a subway station, or at least something that looks like one if it had been without proper maintenance for sixty years.
You see, in Shadowrun, a bunch of huge fucking earthquakes fucked up Manhattan /hard/, completely collapsing the old subway system to the point that they just built over it and ignored them. As a result, these tunnels have been a home to SURGE'd molemen, smugglers, and displaced poor people.
The party demands that the dwarf (who turns out to be named Pinky) take them to see the Rubinelle Family. Pinky says that the Rubinelles are based out of Penn Station, the defacto "capital" of the underground, where Mr. Big runs everything. It turns out the drugs were going to Penn station anyway, so the party brings them along while using Pinky as their guide/hostage.
>>46031369
The trip itself is rather uneventful, the party see a few other "caravans" moving along in the underground and small tent-cities at stations, and things seem to be going well when Pinky actually covers for them if the local security asks any questions. The party talk to him a bit, and Pinky lets slip that if Alcatraz wasn't at Penn Station, he would probably be in Hydro, or at least, the information broker there would know where Alcatraz is. The party note this, and continue on.
Finally, after about 3 hours of waking due to detours and collapsed tunnels, the party arrive at Penn Station. The closer they got to Penn, the better life seemed to be. Nearby stations seemed to have less "hobos living in tent cities" and more "people grinding out a hard, if simple, life". Stations had power, a few had heating to some degree, and the security forces looked less like "guys with guns" and more "semi-trained militia". Penn station itself had a proper wall made out of old subway cars, and a watchtower with a proper LMG mounted in it. The guards actually have uniform, and are wielding full size assault rifles, to dissuade any funny business.
Pinky does his usual runaround, and blames the delay on tunnel cave ins (which is roughly half true.) He shows the guard his commlink which presumably has a manifest or something on it, and the party get waved in.
Penn Station itself actually looks quite close to what a large subway station would have looked like, before earthquakes hit. Sure, it's dusty and dirty, but the florescent lights above actually shine brightly instead of flickering or being dead, it's warm, and there's a hustle and bustle to it that most of the other stations lacked. Hell, some people actually seem to be enjoying themselves here.
>>46031556
Pinky leads the group over to what is essentially a handling area for all the smuggled goods coming in and out of Penn, and has the party start piling up crates while he talks to the quartermaster and gets payment. While he does this, a group of three guards makes a beeline for the party, rifles drawn but not shouldered. Turns out that Pinky squealed like a pig, and wrote a message for the guard at the entrance on his commlink. The party try bluffing, but Pinky speaks up and damns them pretty hard with his story.
The head guard, a tough looking orc, informs the party that Mister Big would like to see them, to discuss "business". The party are escorted through what seems to be a club located in the central concourse, to a security checkpoint at the back. The party drops off all their weaponry and such, aside from Zed, who actually manages to sneak a light pistol through the ensuing pat-down.
Past the checkpoint, the party steps into a very nice office, complete with a realwood mahogany desk, carpeting, potted plants, and some bookshelves. It looks quite nice in contrast with the conditions they've been seeing around, and even the rest of Penn Station isn't this nice. In the corner of the room, the party notice a lithe elf who has a coating of thin black fur on everything except her face, and has wicked claws extending from her fingers. Every so often, she twitches, as if having a small spasm or seizure, but other than that she remains motionless.
Behind the desk, the party can see the soft glow of a cigar, and a puff of smoke before a deep voice addresses them. To put it plainly, Mr. Big asks them who the fuck they are, and who they think they are killing some of his muscle. The Saia Tam spills the beans super quickly, saying that they are looking for Alcatraz, to the chagrin of everyone else in the party. Mr. Big swivels around in his chair, and reveals that he is actually a 50cm tall pixie, smoking a human sized cigar.
>>46031772
As it turns out, Mr. Big isn't actually all that pissed, considering those guys were just dime a dozen mooks, and since he got the drug shipment anyway he really doesn't care. What he does care about is the fact that the party seems competent, got into the underground without him knowing about it (for a short while), and are looking for Alcatraz. He reveals that Alcatraz isn't actually at Penn station, but he does know where he is, and will tell the party if they do him a favor.
The group agrees, and Mr. Big fills them in. There's another large station, called Hydro, that runs hydroelectric generators in a flooded subway line. This gives them a decent amount of pull, as they can trade electricity for food and such, in addition to not having to rely on Penn for everything. Evidently this is bad for business, and the independent nature of Hydro brings risks of other stations getting similar ideas. Mr. Big hates competition, and wants those generators stopped, and a message sent.
The party seems fine with this, and just ask for some nice accommodations for the night before they head out. Everyone just goes to sleep, except for Mountain Man, who decides he is going to get fucking /smashed/ at the bar. He actually spots Pinky there, and intimidates him into buying him a fuckload of drinks for being a dirty rat. His drinking impresses a group consisting of an orc, a troll, and a dwarf, who invite him to drink with them.
Shortly after they start trading shots, and while Mountain Man has a slow start, about half an hour and dozens of shots later, he and the dwarf are the only ones left standing. At this point, Mountain Man has lapsed completely back into Spanish, and is singing drunken Aztlan folk songs with a similarly wasted dwarf.
>>46032034
The next day he wakes up in a puddle of his own vomit, and most people seem to be impressed with him. He also has a new contact, the dwarf who he kept up with, named Pepperjack. He has a blistering fucking hangover and everything is pain, so he picks up some star-shaped sunglasses at the market Penn has (which he gets a discount on.)
The party plots the best route they can based off the old map they were given by Mr. Big as they left, and set out. A crit-glitch on navigation later and some debate IC, they actually end up going the right way. Arriving at Hydro, they notice an immediate contrast in relation to Penn. The gate is left open at Hydro, with only one tired looking guard wearing a ballistic vest at the entrance. They get waved in easily, and step inside.
Hydro has a similar station layout to Penn, but the similarities stop there. Although the rushing of water indicates they are in the right place, the lights still flicker slightly, and collapsed walls and rubble clogs the concourse. There's also a lot more people here, and they are much more in line with the rest of the undergorund population: namely, dirty, ragged looking, and tired. The hustle and bustle of Penn station is replaced with a somber attitude that practically oozes hopelessness. Instead of the proper, barracks style sleeping areas of Penn, Hydro seems to just have "first come first serve" sleeping areas, with small fights breaking out and station security not really doing much about it.
>>46032175
Moar anon moar
>>46032034
After getting the lay of the land, the party hatches a plan: Spitfire and Zed would attempt to get jobs helping out with the hydroelectric generators, so they go and knock on the door marked "ENGINEERING CONTROL/SECURITY". A rough looking orc with oil stained overalls and a rusted cyberarm opens the door before wiping his brow (leaving it more dirty than it was before) and asking the pair what they needed.
Spitfire and Zed spin a fantastical tale about how they worked on hydro-dams in Manitoba, before coming down to New York for a potential job working at a dam. However, something happened and they lost the position. They roll relatively well on con, but the engineer rolls better, and he gets suspicious as to why two certified engineers with experience found themselves in the underground. A last ditch effort to convince the guy ends in a glitch, with him getting 6 hits on his "that's bullshit" test. At this point he's convinced the two are fucking with him, and tells them he doesn't have time to deal with their shit, and slams the door in their face.
Plan A failed, the party moves to Plan B: start a riot and use the cover to blow up the generators.
>>46032282
While Spitfire and Zed were trying to con their way into becoming engineers, Mountain Man and Saia Tam were getting into position in the main mess hall for plan B.
Spitfire lets the pair know that they fucked up, and so they should move to the backup plan, before moving to loiter outside of a door labeled "MAINTENANCE", behind which the roar of water could be heard. A few guards patrolled the area, but it was technically public, so they didn't arouse much suspicion.
Everyone in position, Mountain Man yells as loud as he can "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU" and punches a random fucker in the back of the head, emanating a sickening "crack" as the guy flies two meters and lands on the ground, motionless.
The crowds reaction is stunned silence for a moment, before people start yelling in panic. The two security guards in the mess hall move toward Mountain Man, weapons aimed at him, as he surrenders.
It's at this point that Saia Tam casts chaotic world, and gets the crowd, Mountain Man, and one of the guards caught in it. So at this point, the crowd is going crazy, and one of the guards is losing his nerve while dealing with a pissed off troll with a MASSIVE hangover, who is now getting mindfucked.
It is not a good day for Mountain Man, and he lashes out, punching the nearby officer, pretty much breaking his jaw off, causing even more panic as he falls to the ground.
The final kicker is Saia Tam tossing a smoke grenade, which makes things devolve into a straight up stampede of scared and confused people doing their best to get the fuck out of the mess hall.
The security that was patrolling near the maintenance door move to go calm the people down, or at least contain them, and Zed picks the doorlock (which is actually just a padlock). Spitfire climbs down a ladder and finds himself on a catwalk just above the raging water, with the generators next to him. He starts spraying foam explosive with reckless abandon as Zed keeps watch.
>>46032418
Mountain Man is still rampaging at this point, using his thermographic vision to swing at any heat-blobs that get close in the smoke, including another station officer. During this whole thing, Saia Tam is just sitting at a table out of the way, sipping a glass of water.
Explosives planted, Zed and Spitfire book it before pushing the detonator, causing the entire station to shake and pieces of the ceiling to collapse as a massive explosion rocks the foundation. Shortly after this, the lights flicker and die, leaving the entire station in complete darkness.
Those who weren't panicking before certainly were now, and the party could even hear a few gunshots from either the security team, rioters, or both. Saia Tam cancels chaotic world, because it's not really necesary at this point, and Mountain Man decides "Fuck this, I'm going through the wall." He actually breaks through just barely, and Saia Tam and him make a quick exit as Mountain Man shoves anyone who gets near away.
The team meet up in the now-pitch dark tunnel outside of hydro, listening to the muted screams and gunfire, pat themselves on the back, and wonder how the fuck they are going to get back to Penn without the leading lights in the tunnels (which up until now, Hydro was powering).
That's where we ended, and it was all good fun.
You can't beat a good Shadowrun storytime.Please come back Twodee!
>>46032503
Good stuff. Can't wait for Subway Satan to make his appearance.
Also, I'm bumping, because I'm writing up something myself.
Brace yourselves for some tales of a group of Shadowrunners with tails per capita of 40%.
>>46032623
2d is dead. I ate him and devoured his soul.
>>46035382
bumping for this
>>46040567
I appreciate the bump.
As for the story - it's coming, I just lost a bunch of writing time to two successive phone calls.
>>46035382
>>46040567
>>46040782
A few hours and 1700 words later...
Storytime! Mostly intro stuff, our future sessions had far more antics. "Cats for the Comatose" being one of my favorites that I've mentioned in /srg/ before.
>The Year: 2077
>The Month: July
>The City: Seattle
>The Cast
The Face, Deckard Solo – Deckard is an elf with an obsession over everything Harrison Ford. He dresses like Han Solo and carries a bigass revolver named Clementine (traits represented as Distinctive Style and Emotional Attachment, respectively). Backstory-wise, Deckard has spent years smuggling anything and everything in and out of Seattle, mostly on behest of the Mafia. His car has an enormous secret compartment usually referred to as “The Troll Hole,” and his Millennium Falcon is a nearly silent custom glider notable for “making the Denver-Seattle run in less than 4 decibels.” He doesn’t believe in magic, and believes that anything obviously magical is just highly advanced augmentations, drones, hacking, or nanomachines.
The Sniper, Headshotz Maximus – Headshotz is a human longarms/overwatch specialist whose favored weapon is the biggest, most illegal sniper rifle money can buy. Despite the ridiculous handle, Headshotz is a consummate professional. His talent for discretion has kept him from acquiring the notoriety a man of his considerable skill and high-grade cyberware would usually develop. Headshotz has a nice apartment that he shares with The Mage.
>>46043374
The Infiltrator, Snowflake – Snowflake is an albino, elven, neotenous, SURGE’d catgirl physical adept with Raven as a mentor spirit. Born and raised in the Redmond Barrens, Snowflake developed street smarts and a knack for pickpocketing before a Halley’s Comet induced SURGE left her with cat ears, a tail, catlike legs, retractable claws, a nocturnal sleep schedule, and a hormone imbalance that halted her physical development at age ten. She was working as a courier for a local Mafia don until she fucked up and lost an important package. Already dirt poor, she now needs to repay the package’s value of 30,000 nuyen, with 10% monthly interest. She believes her mentor spirit is a schizophrenia hallucination, and does her best to ignore it.
The Mage, Kat – Kat is a spellcasting housecat whose exact appearance and breed changes on a regular basis. Or at least, that’s what the rest of the crew believes. Out-of-character, the team knows that Kat is an elf mage who constantly maintains a Shapechange spell to keep himself in housecat form. Kat appeared one day to Headshotz, and spoke directly into his brain, “Hello. I am KAT. I require your assistance to defeat my nemesis DAWG. In exchange, I will support your endeavors until my eventual confrontation with DAWG.” Now Kat lives in Headshotz’s apartment and provides him with magical support. Kat has predilections for mind magic and illusions over fireballs and lightning bolts.
The Hacker, X-Wing @Aliciousness – Last but not least, X-Wing is a teenage human decker who can’t feel anger. He’s one of the wealthier members of the team and beds down in a big garage/safehouse. He’s relatively new to the underworld of shadowrunners, but his decking skills are solid and he also knows first aid. He became acquainted with Deckard Solo via a shared love of Star Wars, although X-Wing is a bit of a weeb and prefers the later Japanese trideo remakes to the originals.
>>46043390
>Episode 1 – The Data-Wipe Job
On a warm July afternoon, Deckard got a call from a fixer friend of his.
“Hey Deckard, my guys need some extra personnel for a job. You think you can round up a full team? The pay’s good, and you guys’ll be doing the easy part.”
Ever the enterprising criminal, Deckard said he could handle it.
“Good deal. You’ll meet my guys tomorrow at Stumpy’s, and they’ll give you the rundown on the job.”
Sparing no time, Deckard rang up Snowflake first. Snowflake groggily retrieved her commlink from her cardboard box bedside table and groaned an answer.
“… Deckard? What’s up?”
“Morning, Snowflake. I heard you’ve been looking for work. I’ve got a job that needs a few extra hands. You in?”
“… does it pay?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m in.”
Headshotz was next on Deckard’s list.
“Hey Headshotz, I’ve got a job for you. No details yet, but we might need some extra firepower.”
“Sure, I’m game. Do you need a mage?”
Deckard scoffed. “Sure, whatever.”
“Alright, I’ll bring Kat with me.”
Finally, Deckard called X-Wing.
“X-Wing! I’ve got a job that might need some Matrix support.”
“Sounds fun. When and where?”
“We meet tomorrow, I’ll pick you up.”
“Cool, see you then.”
>>46043412
The next day, Deckard picked up the crew in his car and some introductions were made. Kat used a Mind Link spell to introduce himself. Deckard brushed him off as an elaborate biodrone piloted by a remote decker/rigger, while Snowflake - concerned that her mind had created a second imaginary magical talking animal - did her best to ignore Kat completely.
A short drive later, our heroes arrived at Stumpy’s, a dive bar owned by a former shadowrunner (the eponymous Stumpy, a dwarf shaman who retired after losing an arm) and frequented by current shadowrunners. Feeling extra paranoid, Headshotz scaled a nearby roof to perform overwatch duty as the other team members entered the bar.
The thin crowd inside was used to enough weird shit that Snowflake and Kat hardly merited a second glance.
A friendly-looking elf waved them over to a comfortably sized booth. He introduced himself as Princess, the leader of a shadowrunner team who called themselves “The Seattle Supersonics.” The job he offered was simple.
>>46043454
A small-time local reporter had acquired some sensitive footage that could not be allowed to proliferate. He was keeping things tightly under wraps, so he kept only two copies – the working copy at his office, and a backup copy in his house. They had a plan to destroy the office copy, but they wanted another team to handle the backup copy simultaneously, so there’d be no chance for the reporter to send off the footage somewhere else once he’s called about the office break-in.
The Supersonics gave the team a timetable. The half-hour window was in two nights.
Their generous Mr. Johnson was willing to extend the Supersonics 8000 nuyen per member of their second team. Deckard deemed this to be an acceptable rate, and a handshake sealed the deal. Deckard commed Headshotz to let him know negotiations were done and that he could come on down.
The team began their legwork nearly immediately. X-Wing found the report’s home floor plan from the last time it was assessed. He also discovered that our mark had a Faraday cage ordered and installed in the master bedroom closet on the second floor. The five agreed that this was the most likely location for him to stash the footage they needed and began to plan accordingly. Driving by the place that night, X-Wing was able to spot 3 or 4 wireless cameras that needed to be handled, as well as a few contracted bodyguards. The house had no real alarm system, and the guards’ patrols were relatively simple. One guard stood out front, and two guards patrolled inside on the first floor.
>>46043482
A few plans were discussed. Smash and grabs, social infiltration (with Snowflake posing as a child, befriending the reporter’s kids, and inviting herself over for a sleepover), and the subtle approach they finally decided on. The master bedroom had a balcony with minimal security and a sliding glass door. If the balcony was used for ingress and egress, they’d only need to deal with one of the cameras and the one outdoor guard.
Snowflake piped up.
“I’m pretty sure I can get in and out of there quietly. I know how to pick a lock if that’s an issue.”
The rest of the team agreed that she was the best candidate for the breaking and entering. Kat explained that he could surreptitiously handle the guard out front. With Headshotz vouching for the feline’s efficacy, the team finalized their plan and waited for the window.
Headshotz scaled a nearby tree and set up overwatch, in case drek hit the fan. Deckard and X-Wing sat in Deckard’s car across the street, ready to provide a quick getaway. When the hour hit, Kat lazily wandered up the driveway to the outdoor guard. A subtle bit of mind magic convinced the guard that his job was a waste of time, and he was hungry and fed up enough to abandon his post and walk down to Stuffer Shack.
X-Wing wirelessly set the camera to loop empty footage, and with that Snowflake was up. Literally.
>>46043520
She silently sprinted up the outdoor wall and quietly clambered onto the balcony. Readying her lockpicks, she suppressed a laugh when she found the sliding door was already unlocked. The door slid open without a sound, and Snowflake was able to creep to the closet without waking the reporter or his wife. She located the Faraday cage, and as soon as it was open X-Wing was able to remotely access the data stored on the devices inside. He found six video files, and after skimming through them, determined which was the target. The footage was of some kind of aircraft wreck in what appeared to be the Redmond Barrens. Thinking quickly, he decided not to delete the file but to overwrite it with one of the others, potentially making the reporter think he had accidentally deleted the footage himself.
Snowflake closed the Faraday cage and left the room just as quietly as she had entered. Once the team was all back in the car and driving away, Deckard texted Princess two words: Mission Accomplished.
>>46043578
Princess soon responded, and the two teams agreed to meet back up at Stumpy’s to transfer payment.
Once again concerned about the potential for a double-cross, Headshotz scaled a roof and went on overwatch (it’s kind of his thing).
Luckily, he was once again more paranoid than necessary. Princess handed over the credsticks and introduced the rest of the Supersonics.
It was about then that the team realized it was late on a Friday night, they were in a bar, and they had just been paid a good deal of money. Many drinks were ordered and shared.
After a while, Snowflake and Deckard were at the bar in conversation with Stumpy.
“So, I hear you handled yourselves well tonight, especially for first-timers. I might be able to send you some more work. But if I do, how should I introduce you to a client? You got a name or something?”
Without missing a beat, Deckard smirked and replied,
“Yeah, just call us the Blade Runners.”
>TO BE CONTINUED AT A LATER DATE
