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The Jake
My article:
http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/news/enter...2471335291.html

My run:
Shadowrunners are employed by Mr. (Neville) Johnson (ha!) to steal the compromising Heath Ledger tape from People Magazine vault and steal data from Splash News & Picture Agency on the information on the videographer. PCs are expected to track down the videographer and silence him/her... for good.

Go!

- J.
The Jake
54 views and not one reply.

Man you people make me sick.

- J.
Fix-it
you'll have to excuse us Yanks. we're comatose after the inauguration, and thus also is our news media.
IceKatze
hi hi

I guess I can give this a go...

The Article

The Run:
Shadowrunners are employed by Mr. Johnson to silence this nagging thorn in the side of their mining operations. It is bad publicity, and worse yet, he might set in motion legal challenges. Turns out this guy is an eco-shaman and has some loyal followers and lots of spirit allies.
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (CNNMoney.com)

The Run

The Johnson paces around the small OR, pivoting on his scuffless shoes in a sort of bizarre dance: two steps towards the cracking tile wall with its yellowed laminate and bloodstain rorschach - abrupt turn and clenching of the hands like gnashing teeth: two steps towards the bed where the doc sits leisurely counting needles and NERPS and whateverelse (part of their arrangement, you guess, payment to the doc for setting up this little meeting): another pivot of fists clenching and a few toe taps before two steps towards the various blinking crockery of machines lurking ominously in the corner like a chrome incubus with scalpels, syringes and saws tipping each poised to strike tentacle: then spin, the J looks at the ceiling, the unblinking insect eye of lights reflecting across his wraparound XRay AR glasses.

Wiping a hand through his greasy shock of hair and then on his greasy smock, the doc looks up and about the room. He gives a short nod, one hand still caressing the contents of the box. The Johnson levels a look on him, maybe a little lean with it, and after a tick the doc gets up, puts the box beneath one arm and slouches out of the room, plastic curtain flopping shut behind him. A few more steps of the dance and the J turns that look to you.

Sucking heavily through his respirator, he works his fists into separate fingers, his tight chest relenting into a almost clam repose. He glances over the bed, as if considering sitting, rejects it, moves on over the room, probing, looking for cameras or peepholes. Finding nothing but roaches staring back, he settles again on you.

"There is a company," he begins, his voice surprisingly high pitched for such a broad shouldered suit, "planning to produce a product within the next few weeks of which it has no right to produce." Straightening, puffing his chest slightly, he continues, "The interests I represent would like this product delayed for three months.

"At least in any quantity," he adds quickly. "We don't want the product itself sabotaged - no, no panics needed over it. Just a delay. We know this is rather a... protracted contract, but recompense will be made." Cocking his head, he pauses, perhaps waiting for you to object or respond. Silence forthcoming, he goes on, "As this company doesn't spend money on research, or even markets or product testing - the little thieves - they have excesses to spend on security." The tension in his body winds slightly, a snake coiling under his skin. "That despite doing everything else with pinched fingers.

"Delay their suppliers, delay their deliveries, what have you... You're a professional, I understand," again he cocks his head, "and I respect that. Discretion is why you're being solicited. Are your services for sale?" A sigh escapes him, his pitch is made, time to make a deal. Are your services for sale?
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (guardian.co.uk)

The Run

After a pair of successful extractions, the runners are once again contacted by their previous employer. He seems jovial, his avatar somehow slightly sleeker, updated or anti-aliased, though almost too subtle to notice. Greetings and pleasantries exchanged, the buisness at hand is laid bare: they need one more extraction, the extraction of a comma from a contract that is. It's a simple matter, really; there's only a few, notarized copies of the document in the datastores of contract holder... And perhaps one or two on the desk of a Zurich Orbital justice. A silk run, really.
Dexim
QUOTE


The Run

Mr. Johnson hires the party to lean on Mr. Gupta of Certicom, and convince him, through fair means or foul, that RIM's offer is very reasonable in light of recent economic difficulties. Bonus for keeping it all on the quiet side, as there is likely some dirt to be found somewhere.
kanislatrans
microdeck layoffs

The meet goes down in a dive bar. Stale draft beer and Nic-stix smoke color the air and a cover of "cruel summer" done this time by synth-trance superstars Viagra Warmonger floats from warn and dusty speakers hidden in the dark corners of the bar.

As its almost midnite, the bar is almost empty. This is a blue collar scene and most of the little sararimen are home in bed, getting ready to pour out their sweat and blood to grease the wheels of commerce and keep the nuyen.gif flowing steadily uphill.

The bartender is a human woman. She could be 30 or 50 years old but its hard to tell. Her hair is blond, bleached to a frizzy tangle that hangs on her shoulders giving her an almost scarecrow like appearance. Her eyes look tired and glazed.

There are a couple of other rumpled,dirty and mostly blitzed patrons scattered about, but the man the team is looking for sits to the back at a table. He obviously isn't a professional as his eyes dart to the door and stare just a little too long as the face and sami enter.

Tommy G, the team face and honorary bullet catcher surveys the scene. He's seen thousands of similar taverns. Where ever manual labor is still used, the working class seem to gravitate to dark dusty dives like this on to drown thier misery or maybe find someone to hook up with and just forget about the demeaning shit the corps make them do just to survive. His old man had frequented places such as this right up until he died, an empty shell, used up and thrown aside when he couldn't keep up with the new crop of Zoneclones. Tommy hated places like this.

At his side, LZbeth, The team Sami , has a different view. She loves the feeling of decay that hangs in a joint like this. but then LZbeth is odd that way.

Spotting the J easily the two 'runners saunter up to his table and Tommy asks the age old question
"Mr. Johnson, I assume?"

So heres the job. Microdeck recently shut down their Z-tube simsense gaming system. a changing market ( and a product prone to system issues) have just made the system obsolete . 5000 workers punched in on a friday morning and when they got the "data transfer complete" notice on their com letting them know thier paycheck had transfered there was a little pink attatchment file letting them know they didn't have jobs anymore.

so someone got the idea that if they each tossed in 100 nuyen.gif they could hire some runners to send the company a little message of thier own.

The job. 475,000 nuyen.gif to drop the whole damn building. Only stipulation is no casualties. none. not a dead decker or security guard or even a patrol dog.

100,000 up front and the rest upon completion.

You interested,Chummer? cyber.gif





Kanada Ten
(edit)
Kanada Ten
(edit)
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (Cleveland.com)

The Run (I might clean this up later)

* Runners delivered in an old skytaxi to an office building in the Arcology's shadow
* The office they're supposed to meet the J at is empty: no furniture, no people, no locks...
* J walks in with an Olympic Security crew - not to arrest the runners, but to install some security systems
* He's on the phone with corporate auditors, obviously trying to placate and delay them
* After insisting the security team doesn't tear up the walls, he addresses the team
* They've got twenty-four hours to furnish the office with a list of equipment he can provide
* They're not to steal it from Max Office or whatever, too obvious
* There's a Yak fence with a warehouse full of this stuff; steal what they can and get it to the office

Complications: when they finish furnishing, the J asks them to put on security uniforms as auditors are about to arrive. The auditor examines the place, complains that he's one desk short, and then compliments the team on their handiwork, offering them further work of a more worthwhile nature.

* The J pays them, rather sullenly, and asks for the uniforms back, as they're on deposit
Tachi
China dams reveal flaws in climate-change weapon

The Run...

A trip-A mega is planning to build a new 'clean-coal' power plant in (pick a country, any country), but, because coal is so inherently dirty they still need more carbon credits to offset it or the local government will refuse their variance.

Here's the problem; the only project currently in development that covers their requirements is from a hydro-electric company that has already entered into negotiations with another mega for exactly the same thing. Your job is to 'prove' that the other mega uses substandard materials in at least some of it's construction projects, or otherwise find another way to hurt their reputation enough that the electric company will decide it is not in their best interests to be connected with that particular mega, or it's reputation; thereby sending it happily scurrying directly into your employer's greedy hands.



Alternate:

The locals who were evicted from their homes want the greedy local bureaucrats to suffer for destroying their lives, and to be made an example of for other such bureaucrats to remember. You're hired to ruin their lives, get them divorced, empty their bank accounts, make their kids hate them, get them fired, get them to commit suicide on their own. Once they are all dead you're to infiltrate a local matrix news service (matrix intrusion or physical) to get a recording aired about what actually happened to them, any why, all without exposing your employers actual identities.
Tachi
State lawmakers bet gambling can help with budgets

An incumbent politician has allowed his local economy to tank. Due to an almost complete lack of local resources, the only plan he can come up with that gets any support is to add a 'mini Vegas' to the city. Unfortunately, some of those crazy 'family-values' kooks are trying to stop him, and they have lots of support from the local mafia (who don't want the city cutting into their profit margins). You've been contacted by the politician in question to discredit the kooks so they'll lose public support, while also convincing the mafia that the local government dosen't appreciate their meddling, and they'd better leave it alone.



This run has several angles from which you can approach it. Political hitters helping the local economy. Mafia soldiers defending the bottom line. Hooders protecting the 'family-values kooks', etc.
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (The Japan Times Online)

The Run

She called the police first, right after the bastards left. Laying there on the floor in her torn clothing, shards of plastic pressing against her skin, she called the police. An avatar flickered into life beside her, a silverskined, slim policewoman icon with a pleasant smile. It asked her name, the nature of her emergency. It smiled and nodded, asking if the assailants were still there. An agent will be with you shortly, the machine told her in a hollow echo of a voice. It waited with her, murmuring reassuring platitudes, until an officer logged on.

It wasn't long really, a few minutes perhaps, his avatar replaced the machine's. "I've reviewed the security video," he told her. "Bad stuff, really." A pause. "And I wish there was something we could do. Really, I do. But a contract's a contract," another pause. "Best just to do what they want." She couldn't understand what he was saying, couldn't accept or believe it. "I really enjoyed your movies," he said, then the avatar faded from her vision. The phone asked if she wanted to call anyone else. Who else, she wondered, her mind clawing desperately inside the closing cage of reality. She didn't know anyone, there wasn't anyone to call. Except, maybe...

Everybody said Shunryu was the only good guy to ever work for Ersatz!; the only agent with a conscience to ever grace a simstar's addressbook. Maybe that's why he didn't last long in the reflected limelight. Faired better in the shadows, a fixer who always paid back his favors, always looked you straight in the eye. He calls the runners with an urgent job. It's a matter of an old favor he needs to pay back, an old friend caught in an old contract. They need to extract his friend from a yakuza establishment, while making it clear that she's not worth their trouble to take back. Complications? Just a husband and kid.
Browncoatone
http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/27/fedex.crash/index.html

The Run


'FedEx plane crashes in Texas' screamed the by-line while a half dozen content based advertisements vied for Sidewinder's attention. One might call it a weakness, but she always felt the urge to read the articles concerning her work. This one left little doubt the client would be satisfied.

As instructed, neither crew member was killed or maimed during the job. And though the magical cause of the fire would eventually be discovered she had already nudged her astral signature back to 'normal'. Not to mention the investigators had yet to even notice a package was missing- not that they should, given it wasn't on the manifest.

Denim was making contact with the Johnson now. By this time tomorrow, Mr. Johnson would have his precious lightsaber prop, and the team would be spending some hard earned nuyen.
Kanada Ten
* You can judge the legitimacy of this news source for yourself.

QUOTE (FitsNews.com)

The Run

* A Johnson, vouched for by any of their more politically connected contacts, calls the team from the heart of the CAS. Seems a little chic has run away from the Mother Hen, and the J would like him picked up from their neck of the woods and delivered home - along with any eggs he might have stashed along the way. It's pretty clear that the eggs are worth more than the chic, but the Johnson wants them both safe and sound if possible.

* The job can be as simple or complex as the GM likes or the team requires. The runaway blackmailer could have swarmed nuggets of information across the Matix, Arch-Conservative agents giving chase to seek and destroy, and Technocrat bots trying to phish the paydata out. Or the evidence could be stored on a single chip, stashed somewhere between Charlotte and Seattle.

* The team's employer could be either an amiable Technocrat hoping for political gain, or an Arch-Conservative trying to protect a name. The former allows for a confrontation with SLEDGE enforcers. The latter scenario is more complicated if the team has seen the evidence.
Black Jack Rackham
Alright, but remember you asked for it.
THE ARTICLE
The Run Version 1 (the PC version)

Runners are hired by the grandparents of Caylee Anthony to locate and kidnap Mr. Jaime Salcedo, president of Showbiz Promotions. Once that’s done, they are to take Mr. Salcedo to the manufacturing plant where the dolls are made, tie him to the machinery and blow it to hell.

But the twist is grandma and grandpa want to watch it happen. They’re willing to come along for the ride if runners are game. But they’ll settle for simsense or trid.

Weeks or months later, runners find that ‘copies’ have gotten out. And they’re now the stars of some pretty intense snuff (trid/simsense). The question is, who let the Caylee out of the bag?

The Run Version 2 (a bit more twisted).

Runners are hired by Mr. Jaime Salcedo, president of Showbiz Promotions. It seems his company has fallen on some serious financial hard times. He/It needs a big selling item (and good free publicity to boot). He’s hit upon a plan to profit off the recent murdered child Caylee Anthony. But anyone can make a cheep ripoff doll of Caylee. He wants perfection. So he hires the runners to steal the child’s corpse so they can make casts for ‘perfect’ copies.

The problem is, he needs the body quickly. It takes time to get the production run up to snuff and he doesn’t want to risk losing the possible media frenzy. So he needs the runners to break into the morticians office (with it’s attendant media hounddogs) and bring the body to him.

THEN, to make sure that no one’s the wiser, they have to put the corpse back.

Mark
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (wpri.com)

The Run

Grey grass crunching under foot, you meander through the park following the AROs of various flower genera. Clematis, Achyranthes, Corydalis, Desmanthus; it doesn't matter, they all look like patches of brown grass amongst the grey. Only the silver sprinkler sticking up startlingly out of the ground and the floating name tags give the impression of importance. The haze lays thick in the air, fog-like and hot, clinging strangely to the gnarled black bark trees and leafless branches. A few stormcrows have gathered in the treetops, fat beasts cawing and squalling about, impatient for the storm. The bench beside the Nerium bushes.

The old man offers you some popcorn from his crumbled white bag when you sit down on the bench beside him. He shrugs when you politely decline and tosses a handful onto the cracked and dilapidated sidewalk, a knot of Chameleon Tail Squirrels dart out of the shrubbery to snatch the golden treats. Their wide, color shifting tails swaying hypnotically as they gnaw and chatter. You watch in silence a moment before a Bandit scrabbles out and pounces on the remaining kernels, scattering the squirrels. The old man, wirey beard aquiver, indignantly pulls a small taser from his bulky layers and takes a shot at the rotund raccoon, who dodges around, disappearing back under the tangle of bushes and flowers.

With a huff, he returns the taser to his pocket before spreading another handful of popcorn. "Let me tell you a story. It's an old story, one you might have heard," he begins, "But entertaining, and it has a lesson, even for young folk like yourself." The old man stretches, bones popping and aches chugging out his mouth. With a lick of his lips, he starts again.

"A mother comes home from work. It's a Tuesday. Or Wednesday. It doesn't matter. She comes home and her daughter, her precious little girl runs up and says, 'mommy, mommy, I'm your little slut.' Naturally, the mom freaks out, asks the kid where she heard such a thing. Can you imagine? Seems the girl's emo toy had a little glitch in it, a little easter egg. There was a few reports cropping up on the 'trix at the time, and the mom decided the corp in question should pay for some psychological counseling for her angel. Well, the corp in question didn't agree. They wrote up a little virus to erase the offending code from all their Hug-Em-Love-Em dolls, and then court ordered the mom in question into psychological counseling for her obvious delusion. I think she learned an important lesson, there."

Stopping to pick something from between his teeth, the old man looks at you and smiles. There's still something between his teeth, something black between the yellow crags of ancient bone, but he goes on, "That one always reminds me of another story, but I don't imagine you've got the time to hear it? I know young folk like yourself are always on the go. On the move. Running around doing who knows what. Not that I'm complaining, mind. Hm, you've got the time you say? Alright, one more story then; you might know this one, it's more recent. I think. But it's a timeless tale, really.

"A young executive pins his career on getting a hydroelectric damn built in a certain valley. He's sure he can convince the residence of said valley to move out. But, for some reason, they don't want to move. Now, it's a nice valley. Protected from pollution, it has orchards with real oranges, lemons, peaches, even. Juicy peaches that liquefy in your mouth. There was green grass and white clouds. People actually knew each other, would talk and share a cup of sugar. On a hot day you could take a dip in the river and not come out covered in ick and slime... My, how an old man rambles. But this young executive with his degrees and computers can't understand why these people don't want to leave and move into corp housing in some corp city.

"Well, the construction starts, even before the people move out, and there's protests, and sit-ins. Nothing works, the courts couldn't care less, the police are in the exec's pocket. Then the sabotage starts as the people figure out the damn will be finished soon. After that doesn't slow the construction much; they get desperate. Try to blow the whole thing up. You can guess the young executive didn't like that, and he decided to solve all his problems at once. He poisoned the valley, put a virus in the water supply. Pretty easy to do, actually. Just the one water tower, a virus with a few week eclipse phase. He even stopped construction, proposed that we work out our differences. Then he stalled, twiddled his thumbs. Made some great press releases. Then people started dropping. Fever, chills, vomiting. Then the boils. Swelling. Asphyxiation."

The old man's fist clench, his eyes are glassy with tears. "Terrible way to die. Within a week over half the town was dead, the other half sick. There were doctors, but they didn't seem to know anything. Plastic tents and beds showed up a week later, but by then there wasn't many left to fill them. Then with the question of the water taint, the government even subsidized the damn, so long as they would monitor the water quality. Make sure no nasty virus was in the soil, see. Hell of a thing."

He coughs then, a deep chest cough, and spits. Digging around in the grimy layers of clothing, he pulls out another white crumbled paper bag and looks inside. "Just before the virus kicked in, the valley sponsored a documentary. One of the local boys was off learning to be a director, and they called him up. Asked him to make the sim. Offered him thirty some thousand nuyen.

"So he brought his girlfriend, who was rigged up because she wanted to be an actress, and they started documenting life in the valley. Eating fruits, swimming with the kids, going to the festival, cooking with a wood fire. Working on a farm, feeding chickens, milking cows. Everything. And then people started getting sick. So they documented that, too. And then the girlfriend got sick. She got sick and kept recording. Right up until she flat lined."

The stormcrows flit around the park grounds, more numerous than before, and the air seems to thicken with heat and humidity. The squirrels chitter and look around, then they dart off.

"The local boy, with his collection of sims in tow, confronted the young executive in his office. Full of fire and righteousness. He demanded to know why they had done it, how could they do it and still be human? Naive, he was. Well, the young executive laughed at this. Offered to buy the sims and set the kid up with a nice advertising job. Can you imagine? Yes, I suppose that's the way of the world, nowadays.

"Needless to say, the local boy didn't take the offer, and the executive had him arrested. Sentenced to twenty years for being angry. Another twenty for a bad mistake in the pigpin. Forty years. It's a long time, time enough for anger to eat a man's heart out.

"The young executive did very well for himself, so I've heard. I understand he's a vice president, now. Got himself a pretty wife and a little girl of his own. Her eduction is important to him, as it is to every father. I've heard he buys her the most expensive tutorsofts on the market. Science, history, business.

"And I think it'd be a shame for her to not know her family history. The story of her father and the story of a valley," he rattles the bag, and puts it on the bench beside you. "Well, this old man is going to wander back home. They get antsy if I'm gone too long. You know, though, there's a mystery to my story. That local boy director, I mentioned, he never spent a single nuyen of that grant money. Not a single nuyen." Bones snapping, joints moaning, the old man ambles off.
Lindt
Well I dont have any of it, but I know there was a one shot run at GenCon a few years ago, that was based off a heist at a high end lingerie boutique in Melbourne. I wrote the blurb for it.
ornot
I'll fill this in when I have some more time, but I thought maybe one of you would like to play with it first.


The Story: Sudan man forced to 'marry' goat

The Run:
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (TED Blog)

The Run

"I want you to switch out a particular presentation prop, with this specially modified version. Try not to drop the jar, so'ka? I assume that's within your skill level. Good, good."
PBTHHHHT
QUOTE (Kanada Ten @ Feb 5 2009, 12:57 PM) *
The Run

"I want you to switch out a particular presentation prop, with this specially modified version. Try not to drop the jar, so'ka? I assume that's within your skill level. Good, good."


darn it kanada, you beat me to this article. Ah well.
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (PBTHHHHT @ Feb 5 2009, 03:42 PM) *
darn it kanada, you beat me to this article. Ah well.

The real question is whether the Johnson is trying to infect the conference with VITAS... or trying save it.
Tachi
Well, It was Bill Gates, so... I'll just assume Mr. J has the public's best interests at heart for once. wink.gif
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (The BBC)

A Johnson working for Regency Texply suspects his competitor, Perfecto Textiles, of importing slave labor from Aztlan, but Lone Star refuses to act against this megacorp affiliated corp. He wants the runners to get proof, of the irrefutable variety and then 'sell' it to KSAF, asap. His hope is the media publicity will force law enforcement's hand. Complications: This specific Perfecto Textiles plant is actually using ghouls, zombies, bugs, shedim, etc. Or, they're not using slave labor at all, and when the Johnson discovers that, he wants the team to fabricate the fiasco using slaves from his factory as actors.
Method
Article: Toxic rubbish 'dumped in Africa'

Run: Zeta Imp Chem is running a toxic dump in Africa which happens to be a front for a clandestine research facility. When the dump is overrun by angry locals ZIC hires runners to go back in and recover the super-secret McGuffin. But unbeknownst to the runners the pitch-fork and torch wielding locals are lead by a toxic (avenger) shaman with nuke spirit support. Werd. devil.gif
martindv
There wasn't enough to even call it an article, but this morning I read that the new chairwoman of the SEC is talking to law enforcement and intelligence agencies to discuss how their manage and investigate walk-in tips--of which the SEC got over 700,000 last year. I only mention this because it reminded me of The Chromed Accountant's background as an undercover IRS criminal investigator/company man runner who walked because he could make more money doing the same thing as a freelance operative.
Method
Article: Kid starts a rumor and Apple looses $4.8 billion.

Run: Runners are hired to track down a "malicious hacker" who recently infiltrated a Matrix news host and started a detrimental rumor about Corp X. When the runners finally find the "malicious hacker" she turns out to be the 16-year-old daughter of a hedge fund executive intent on getting daddy back for an unspeakable crime...
Kanada Ten
QUOTE (Method @ Feb 24 2009, 07:15 PM) *
Article: Kid starts a rumor and Apple looses $4.8 billion.

Run: Runners are hired to track down a "malicious hacker" who recently infiltrated a Matrix news host and started a detrimental rumor about Corp X. When the runners finally find the "malicious hacker" she turns out to be the 16-year-old daughter of a hedge fund executive intent on getting daddy back for an unspeakable crime...

Insane, I was just sketching a similar scenario with Johnny Spinrad as target. He'd be a good one, IMO, with all the cyber he goes through, the head of a "rogue" (aka popular) corp, and its icon. Plenty of enemies to take advantage of the sudden dip in stock prices, lots of suspects and distractions before the truth comes out. You can reverse the run, as well, having the runners spreading the rumor, and/or keeping the target from offically dismissing it for a short time.
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