Caracas: Hole in the Heart, Recruitment Thread Options

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

Well, shit. I was intimidated last night by MJ's post. Now I'm doubly so. ...Maybe no one will notice if I just sneak out the back here...

[BlackHat]

*Handwave*

... I'm in no position to debate whether or not modding fictional cyberpunk weapons is "realistic" or even makes logical sense.

When in doubt, "nanites did it". (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

[Mister Juan]

Well, shit. I was intimidated last night by MJ's post. Now I'm doubly so. ...Maybe no one will notice if I just sneak out the back here...

Wow! Intimidation was totally not my goal! My post aren't always like that. I write crappy little two liners every single day (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nyahnyah.gif) I didn't just crank that out in 5 minutes, so don't worry about it. I mean; this is supposed to be game, not a literary and writing exercise (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Rastus]

Goddamn you people, now you got me doing it.
----------------------------

Dues To Collect, with Smiley


Another day, another bout of car troubles thanks to cheap parts. Once again, stuck inside an old garage that doubles as a bedroom fixing the same old problem. Smiley was not amused by any of it; for the third time one of the piston rods has snapped after his little game of taunting the local cops into chasing him to the slums, which they'd then stop or end up crashing due to interferance.

After fixing the problem, he turns while wiping his hands off with a rag and leans on his car, staring out a pane of ballistic glass at the rain that pours down from the skies and yet does little to lower the sticky, humid heat that seems to blanket the whole area without fail. It's not long for his mind to start wandering off, contemplating the situation that is developing in Caracas...

The major reason for him coming to this godforsaken city, Tempo, the supply of it was starting to dwindle. It had to be, otherwise he wouldn't have as much free time to taunt cops and 'test' his favored ride. His fast track to the easy life was quickly closing off, an era comes to a close before it can even shine. He could tell, he's done this thing long enough to develop a sixth sense about crackdowns. Tempo was disapearing, his income had been fucked over and that was only the tip of the iceberg this time.

The other smaller reason for him coming here? That too is also going to hell as the days go by. The situation between Aztlan and Amazonia, with Caracas might as well being a giant bridge with shanty towns beside it? It's all getting too familiar to what he fought against in San Francisco. Swap the machetes for katana's, whoever the hell leads the attack for Saito, and throw in a ton more drones and the two situations could easily be seen as one and the same.

Shaking his head, he tosses the now dirty rag aside and climbs inside the car, assuring himself that the same mistakes won't be made. Not by him, that's for damn sure. With the engine started, it's barely a moment before he's out the garage and onto his next destination. On towards a certain someone who at the moment owes an explanation on things...


... It wasn't a long drive, hell the guy set up shop barely three blocks away, and traffic in the poorer neighborhoods is suprisingly light compared to the rich enclaves. As he pulled up to a spot on the far end of the street, just out of sight of his destination he stepped out into the tropical rain that still pours down. As he made his approach he felt the weight of the loaded Colt pistol holstered under his button-up shirt reassure him. Now this oughta cheer me up.

Stepping up to the front entrance, he looked at the suprise sitting before him hiding under the doorway arch and out of the rain; the bastard got himself a ork guard to make sure nobody tries nothing. Smart, Smiley mused in his thoughts, but apparently not that smart. he added, for it wasn't long before the real suprise with this guard became apparent: This guy was completely high on something strong, as he asked aloud just what the hell he was staring at.

Barely able to keep himself from laughing, Smiley instead grinned and decided to play the part of the smartass by telling the stoned guard that he was the pet cat of the car parts dealer and he was coming back in. The guard stared at him for a moment and reached out to open the door for Smiley, that was before a braincell came back to life for a brief moment as the guard said, "Wait, the boss didn't have no damn cat..." Without breaking stride or waiting a moment, Smiley reflexively stated that he was a recently adopted stray and that the damn ork should quit yapping and get back to work. It was another short pause before the guard apologized and let Smiley in.

Good god he must be on some really good stuff, Smiley thought to himself as he stepped in, hearing the guard outside yelp in pain as he gets zapped unconscious by Smiley's crawler drone. Gotta be sure, after all. Stepping into view of the dealer, Smiley already had his Colt 2066 drawn and screwed on the silencer before pointing it at the man before him. Earning his nickname as he began grin even wider now, Smiley spoke up amoungst the dealers sputtering demands to know just what the fuck is going on, "Why hola Carlos my good man. I figured I'd stop by and voice a complaint on the quality of your shitty parts. Now sit." Leveling the barrel at the man as he complied with the order, Smiley approached...


... Five minutes later, Smiley stepped out of the shop whilst holstering his piece back into its concealed shoulder holster. As he walked passed the stoned and now unconscious guard, he tosses the three of Carlos' fingers he severed earlier with the help of a few fourty-five caliber bullets, thinking it be a good tip to a job poorly done before reaching down to pick up the optically camouflaged drone as he walks back to his car in the diminishing rain.

Climbing into the car, he goes about the typical routine of creating a new artfully rusted painjob and license plate registration, a satisfied smile across his face. His thoughts begin to wander once again as the procedure finishes and he's on his way to the a bar to spend some of the cash on the credstick he pilfered from Carlos, hoping to beat the odds and actually win a few bets on some pitfights. Sure, his gravy train is quickly running out of steam. Sure, he's escaped one overtaken city for one that's about to suffer the same fate. Sure, the future is uncertain, however that's all besides the damn point.

It's a rule, a law. The way of the world. No escaping it, no avoiding it. We all end up victim to this one thing. Everybody creates dues to collect. Just as sure as a junkie does for his fix, as Saito did for his bullshit, as sure as the naive idealist will for his beliefs, and just as that dealer did for screwing Smiley over.

Be it for their crimes,
their desires,
their ignorance,

When you've created dues waiting to be collected, you best remember: Everybody pays.

And Caracas? That is a city with many high value dues just waiting to be collected. Besides, this is the type of place you can never stay bored in. At least, that's as far as Smiley is concerned right now.

[Mister Juan]

Is it me or is everyone's character ridiculously badass (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Lamhslea]

I managed to get a little internet (dialup), so I can only load tabs and read through them later. 3 different phone carriers are represented out here, but none of us get a signal, which means I can't tie up the land-line for too long.

I've skimmed a little and I'll hammer out my char sheet a bit, then fix it for when I get online again.

[Rastus]

Is it me or is everyone's character ridiculously badass (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

Badass characters is inherant to noir. Besides, remember that we're in Caracas. You'd have to be badass to thrive in that city as opposed to merely survive. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Abschalten]

You people writing all this fiction, I hope you know this shit can be used by the GM, right? (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Abschalten]

Is it me or is everyone's character ridiculously badass (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

It's no accident. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) Or at least I hope not.

[Abschalten]

Hate to post three times in a row but I feel this post needs to be separate.

I'll probably going to put up the OOC thread tomorrow. When I do I want everyone to repost their character sheets. I'll have the general format I want our posts to be in, color codes and whatnot. It won't be anything too crazy, I promise, something very close to what Mister Juan suggested. I'll approve the sheets and show that I have in the first post. Once all sheets are approved and I get the stories hammered out we'll be ready for the IC thread, and game time!

[Abschalten]

OOC Thread

The OOC Thread is up! Go and repost your character sheets so I can approve 'em. I'm working on some other stuff on the backend. We're getting close, guys! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

I'm excited!

[Rystefn]

They say that in the shadows, there comes a point when there are so many people out to get you that there's no such thing as paranoia anymore... Raul was more than certain that point had come and gone. So certain that he had welded the door to his apartment shut. Barely more than a studio in one of the taller buildings in the area, he could look out any of three windows and see the dirty sprawl of Caracas and a three-meter drop to the roof of the building leaning against his. You want to get in or out, then you'd better be able to fly... or at least jump really high. It was almost enough to make him feel safe. Not safe enough that he'd ever go in or out while the sun was shining and he might be seen. Yeah, a witch could probably see in the dark, but fuck if Raul was going to make it easy on the bitches.

Raul woke up to the sound of his alarm buzzing. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time: 0237. He'd slept for thirty hours this time. In a panic, he checked the apartment - the door, the windows, under the bed and between the ratty cushions of the sofa. It looked secure. It looked like no one had been around. It looked like he was safe for the moment. Too bad he was over an hour late for the meet with Rodrigo. He'd known it was a possibility, but when the Rojo Oso set his mind on something, he didn't budge for anyone. Damned Long Haul just wouldn't work for more than a week, no matter how hard he tried. Mostly, it lasted less.

Still, the loot was safe, and that's what counted. If there was a time crunch, Oso would have wanted the stuff right away, but instead, he asked Raul to hold onto it for a few days. Let the heat die down a bit, he said. Shift some of the risk off himself and onto Raul until it was closer to sale time, more likely. Not like the cops were going find Raul's place, though, so why worry? It wasn't the cops that scared him... not as much, anyway.

Grabbing the box, he jammed it into a jacket pocket and opened the window. A blast of heat and humidity assaulted him, as it always did. However hot it seemed indoors, it was always worse outside. He'd heard that in some places, nights were cooler than days. Someone had once told him that the water in the air held the heat longer. Someone else told him that it was the heat of twenty-three million bodies. But then again, someone had once told him that Dunkelzahn had made a deal with space aliens to fake the Mars landing so he could show up Lofwyr. Looking around to see if he was being watched, Raul dropped to the roof below. Time to find out how pissed Rodrigo was.

Raul was thin and wiry by ork standards, which still made him large and burly compared to most humans, which meant the local muggers would probably think twice before hassling him, and he made it a point not to linger long enough for that second thought to finish. He'd learned the hard way that far too often that thought would be to shoot first. It's easier to rifle a dead ork's pockets than to wrestle him for his credstick.

Rojo Oso did business out of a pawnshop about a mile up from Raul's pad, so it didn't take long to get there, especially with most of the gangers passed out by now and dreaming of bigger an better things than street muggings. "Yer late," the troll growled as Raul opened the door. "You better have my goods."

"Somethin' came up." Rather than argue about it, Raul tossed him the box, still sealed in that tough plastic they like to pack electronics in. "Unopened, jus' like you said. Gimme my money, an' I'm gone."

Oso tossed him a crestick, which Raul deftly caught, quickly checking the balance. "Hey... This is only half."

"I gave you the other half up-front."

"Puto, this is only half of the rest, you still owe me three hundred."

"Like I said: yer late. Dat's business, amigo. You don' like it, you can find someone else to work for."

Nothing to be done about it. Late is late, and Raul knew it could be worse. Best to just head up to the bar and have a few beers. A couple of drinks and a chat with Carmen would make him feel better. It usually did. If he was lucky, maybe he could talk her into taking him back to her place after her shift. A chat with Carmen usually made him feel better, but a roll in the sheets with her always did.

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

He swung himself up out of the too-small cot, placing his feet on the concrete floor and putting his head in his calloused hands as he slowly woke up. Years of quasi-military service followed by time in the stir had gotten the Snake used to waking early in the morning, but he had never become what some considered "a morning person." Especially when he had hardly slept at all; the lumpy mattress had made his back sore and the heat had made him sweaty and uncomfortable.

The clock in his eye read 0630. Time to get going before the day left him behind.

With a grunt he got to his feet, tossing aside the sweat-sodden sheet, and crossed the darkened room to the unwalled shower stall. Gingerly the Snake turned the spigot and waited; nothing happened. No water today then; none the day before, and probably none tomorrow. He couldn't wait for the rations to come back to this building.

In lieu of a shower he grabbed a washcloth and his soap and went out the side door, into the alley at the rear of the building. A rainbarrel caught excess runoff that hovel's gutters couldn't manage. He plunged the cloth into the barrel, lathered it up, and washed himself in the alley. He didn't care about being seen. This early there was no one around to see him anyway, except for some devil rats who chirped at one another, as though planning an ambush.

Washing himself (with filthy water, but at least it was cool, and it was cleaner than some water sources in this city) he slowly worked the sleep out of him and pondered a plan of attack for the day. The Snake's need to find the Drowners was balanced with his need to keep a low profile. He didn't stand a chance of getting what he wanted if the sons-of-bitches heard he was out and looking for them. Some of them would undoubtedly come after him; the smarter ones would disappear.

Washed, if not actually clean, he went back inside and let himself airdry as he lit a cigarette. Need to pick up some more today, he thought, crushing the pack and tossing it aside. Funds were running low but what the hell; he needed the cigarettes. Maybe he could get some soykaf while he was out. Maybe he'd come across a lead. Stranger things had happened. The Snake got dressed (cheap flats, straight out of a vendor, untraceable), laced up his boots, and headed out for the day's work.

First stop: feeding filthy bills into the automat three blocks away from his squat, watching watery dark brown kaf pour into the beige riceplast cup. It wasn't strong, and it tasted like shit, but at least it was hot. The dwarf behind the automat's counter was watching him warily; the Snake nodded to him and sidled over to another autodrawer. Another few bills opened it up, and he pulled out a fresh pack of Yehuans. Like the coffee the Chinese cigarettes were shit but they were cheap and they got the job done.

The Snake hit the street and headed north to La Guiara, lighting one of the Yehuans on the way. He'd spread some cash around--if any of his old friends showed in the city, he would hear eventually. Today was a day for watching the docks. He'd watch the smuggler's crews and pirate ships as they came in, and if he were lucky perhaps he would see someone he knew.

And if he were really lucky, maybe by the day's end he'd slide his spur inside someone's chest cavity for a piece of payback.

[Combat Mage]

This is so unfair. I want to write a cool story too but there's that pesky amnesia. You'll have to wait for my poor excuse of a writing skill until the IC thread is up.

[Abschalten]

Been having alot of fun reading these. You guys have done me a great service, showing me little slices of life before the game gets started.

[Abschalten]

Wow, what is going on? I'm going through these sheets and almost all of you have shorted yourself on BPs. Most of the time it's people trying to get MORE of them. Some of you I can't approve sheets until you SPEND MORE POINTS! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nyahnyah.gif)

[Rystefn]

Well, I tried to use the character generator spreadsheet from the community projects forum here on Dumpshock, but it doesn't let you change the value of qualities, and I caught a few mistakes in it in the process. I tried to fix it, but I may have messed up, so if I'm one of the ones that's off, that's why.

[Rastus]

If you got extra points, just do what I did: Buy a rocket launcher(or two)! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif)

[Combat Mage]

Or buy a tricked out Assault Rifle to give to my equipment-impaired character. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/grinbig.gif)
Just kidding, of course. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Rastus]

Or buy a tricked out Assault Rifle to give to my equipment-impaired character. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/grinbig.gif)
Just kidding, of course. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

You loot your weapons off dead people like an honest amnesiac. No freebies for you.

[Abschalten]

Giving an update: We're starting the game "soon." I have guests in town and once they're gone and I don't have to entertain anymore, I'll be free to come up with the stories for you guys.

Just a forewarning: What you guys have not already established or set in stone is fair game for me to run with. This includes fleshing out names/backstories/personalities for Contacts, or setting you up in a certain neighborhood of Caracas. In other words I won't contradict anything any of you have written down, but I will take liberties with the gaps. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

I still need final versions of charsheets from the following people: Lamhslea, and Rystefn. I've already sent PMs to everyone regarding any changes that need made to charsheets (as I'm sure EVERYONE already knows.) If anybody has any questions please don't hesitate to PM me because I'd like to get started as soon as possible.

Edit: took a name off the list
Edit: Still waiting on final charsheets from the last two. But I've heard from Rystefn and Lamhslea previously said he would be out of town until Monday or Tuesday. I'm going to start working on stories probably tomorrow and get everything rolling hopefully by Wednesday or Thursday. We're almost there!

[Doc Chase]

*steeples fingers*

Goood...Gooooood.

[Lamhslea]

I can't send PM's so I'll ask you here, Ab:

Rather than have the two prejudices could I go for Poor Self Control (Honor Bound) or something along those lines, and then write up his 'code of honor'. Chaske doesn't consider his life to have meaning anymore, so he's constantly trying to give it meaning via this code of honor. It wouldn't be a knightly code by any measure; my inspiration is Harry Dresden if you've read those books. He slums it quite a bit, and is willing to work with the various bad guys when he has to, but there are certain things that he absolutely never do and his personal 'code' has caused him quite a few problems in the past.

Here is a rough outline of what I'd like to do, it's very basic but for the cutthroat setting we'll be playing in where life is cheap and everyone is expendable it should provide a bit of a challenge for Chaske, since he's trying to forget himself but can't help but hold onto a very precious few ideals that keep him from disappearing into the crowd completely.

Defender: Although Chaske tries to keep a relatively low profile his upbringing has made it near-impossible for him to allow an innocent to come to harm through either his actions or inaction. He defines an innocent as either the very young or the very old, as well as those that are unable to defend themselves through no fault of their own (He feels no sympathy for chipheads or burnouts that have willingly destroyed their systems)

Loyal: Leaving his brother behind crushed Chaske and it took years for him to recover as far as he has. He's made a firm commitment to himself to never leave anyone behind again. Unless he has an overwhelmingly compelling reason (Either he knows that he can perform a rescue late, and he [i]will/i] attempt a rescue, or going back for someone would violate some other part of his code)

[Abschalten]

I'm not too big on those. I'd rather "Poor Self Control" be limited to examples already in Runners Companion. As for your suggestions, those seem almost personality traits stemming from his previous Big Regret, almost giving you double points for the same thing. And shoehorning them into "Poor Self Control" to get the 1.5 modifier is a little dubious.

Don't get me wrong, having morals and ideals in this setting is going to get inconvenient, but not " Earns You Bonus BP at Chargen x 1.5" inconvenient.

I'd recommend just looking through the list of qualities I've put down and going from that if you really need the points. Hell, a hot-sim addiction would work perfectly: it could represent a detachment from the real world due to his constant immersion in the digital realm as he pursues answers as to his brother's disappearance. (I know Unwired says TMs can't be "addicted" to VR, but I think that's poppycock. That sort of a rush? It's psychologically addictive as hell.) That's just one example, and I'm sure you could think of others.

Don't be afraid to pile on the negative qualities. It's what they're for, and why you get the extra points.

Edit: Scorched is a good one, too. Flew too close to the sun and got burnt, trying to take on hosts way above his abilities and he got partially fried, 'cause he's obsessed with figuring out what happened to his brother.

Double Edit: Go ahead and repost your character sheet in the OOC Thread. You can make changes to it as we discuss them, and once it's approved we can let it stand.

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

Can't wait for this to get going. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

Just something I thought I'd toss out there, Abschalten (in case you're like me and little details end up being forgotten over time): I was reading Street Magic last night and caught mention of Caracas. Apparently its where the Gladio fighting league makes it's home. So pit fighting may not just be a street thing; there may be some more organized/professional ones going on as well.