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HMHVV Hunter
After seeing "Shaun of the Dead" over the weekend, I thought I had found the inspiration for a personality for a lazy-ass Gator shaman that I created once.

My question for the more experienced members of this board: how do you think a slacker sort of guy would go over in SR? I mean, obviously he's got to fight or do something run-wise, but the laziness has to be there somehow or there's no real character. How should that side come out so as not to cause problems with the rest of the team OOC?

Mind you, I'm not currently playing this guy in any campaign currently, I'm just curious.
Armed with a high force cricket bat weapons focus, I think this idea just might work....

What makes Shaun such a great character in that film is not that he is a slakcer/jerk, but that he handles every bad situation with a sort of wry, dry humor. I think many runner groups would tolerate a guy who forgets to call for reservations for a dinner date with his girlfriend, provided he has the mojo to support the team in a pinch.

("What do you mean you didn't make a reservation for our meet with the Johnson?")
Wounded Ronin
Useless characters can always work.
Hell, we have one or two that aren't even TRYING to be useless.
plus, and extra body means an extra meat shield for the bullets, or bait for ghouls and hellhounds...
always a use out of a 'useless' character. If worse comes to worse, they die (either by enemy hands or yours) and you can get some nuyen selling their body to organleggers and/or used cyberparts dealers...
The Grifter
I saw the title of this thread and immediately thought of Jay and Silent Bob as Street Sams.
My question for the more experienced members of this board: how do you think a slacker sort of guy would go over in SR?

As well as any straight Chaotic/Nuetral character in DnD. Null interest in any threat unless it is directly affecting him. Null interest in any causes or ideals. Survival of the Fittest, and all that.

If you want a character for sheer comic relief, IMHO, write up a Free Spirit.
Been there, done that...created a free spirit with innate spell: Hot Potato.

Made the PC on the roof REALLY anxious for a while.
HMHVV Hunter
So basically, if I tried to play this guy, I'm hosed? Not by enemies, but by my own team?
Sandoval Smith
Only if you play him a way where you're constantly screwing up the team, and doing outright stupid things. You can use the laziness as a character trait
("Are those the same clothes you were wearing on the last run, three weeks ago?"
"Eh, I got rained on a couple of times, they're still good.") and that'll be okay. However, it's when you use that excuse to have the PC do really stupid things (deep in the Aztech compound, watching out for guards... hey, nap time) that is going to make the other characters hate him.

I've played in games where people played characters like this. The player had a great time with it. The problem was, what the player did to amuse themself made the gamer miserable for everyone else.
Real slackers can't last on a team. Team don't tolerate people who don't carry their own weight.

But that's not what a Shaun-like runner would be like. If you saw the same movie I did, you'll notice he doesn't shirk from helping his buddy, saving his mom etc. Basically, he's loyal and that's more than many annoying PCs can say.

Aside from that, a shaun-like runner should have no plan for the future. He runs, he get payed and then he spends. He should be perpetually broke and invest ungodly amount of money on virtual reality games, season tickets and the like (If you have SSG, just cranking out the confort variable to the max would make the right statement).

He should be both mostly unfazed by stressful situation while still being just a bit of a coward who shies away from confrontation. Especially emotional confrontation. For example, an insect spirit will make him scream like a little girl for a moment, but he'll deal with it. But if his girlfriend want to have a serious conversation about their future, he will do his damnedest to avoid it.

He should also be a big fan of some sport or hobby. He could be a huge Seahawks fan for example. At least once you should arrange with the GM for an adventure or at least a sequence revolving around this obssession. For example, trying to get back his Superbowl ticket that were lost at the laundr-o-mat and picked up by a member of the Rusted stiletos...

And obviously, he should have his pub. His bar. His special place were he goes to relax, were everybody knows him as a good, laid back guy. The place that sooner or later a syndicate is going to put the squeeze on...

Finally, he should be lazy, which means he will always look for the most efficient solution that gives the most bang for his buck. If you combine that trait with dry humor and ingeneousity it should result in unorthodox solutions that could even work from time to time.
I played in an amber (diceless rpg) game one time as a charachter like that. Amber is very strange in that charachter creation is done by auction, with the players bidding for rankings in various areas. One player is the best at combat, another the second best, etc. You get along by roleplaying the situation into the areas where you excel.

Thing is I joined the game a few days after they did the auction, so I could not have any ranked skills. Instead I put almost all my points into the leftover category of "good stuff" which vaguely represented luck, some amount of charisma, etc.

So basically I was a ludicrously lucky doofus, and my success relied on my ability to maneuver the situtaion such that the result was up to chance (and chance favored me). It was wierd, but great fun.

But, yea it doesnt really fit into a normal shadowrun campaign. The closest you could get would be something like the detective columbo who appears to be useless but isn't, or the kid brother of one of the other runners who's niche could be that he is so seemingly innocuous he can do things others can't.
Just remember, Shadowrun is (primarily, and typically) a game about professional criminals. Professional criminals aren't likely to accept some slack-assed loser hanging out with them, only "pitching in" at the last minute and still cutting into their overall profit margins and probabilities of survival. Everyone on a normal SR team has a niche to fill, and "loser, but funny loser" isn't something most crack teams of hardened killers are currenly hiring for.
Using the original example, I can see a lazy Gator shaman being an integral part of the team. Mages are supposedly rare (even though you can't swing a dead Awakened Talis Cat without hitting one), and if he's the only person they've got, the runners would have to settle for "good enough for now" in the magic department.
Herald of Verjigorm
True, but "fall guy who doesn't really know how to track down the other runners and never wears a mask on the job" does have it's place in a group of hardened killers.
HMHVV Hunter
Yeah, I can see how they wouldn't tolerate any serious flaws with a guy that doesn't pull his weight, but like I said, he's a shaman so he's not that useless.

From what I remember of the movie, Shaun was basically thrust into the role of leader rather reluctantly, a normal schmo caught in a weird situation. Maybe I could create this guy along the lines of someone that went into Shadowrunning because that's where the big money is that will allow him to live comfortably (without realizing the fact he'd be risking his life for every nuyen, of course). He's seen enough from the sims and movies to know the basics, but is still rather naive in the ways of the shadows.

Also, I'm not sure where the comedic slacker-ness would end and the serious stuff that the team would hate would begin. I mean, I get that I could probably get away with having him show up to a meeting in a non-formal setting wearing the same outfit he wore the previous night when he got puke-drunk, but what about something like sleeping through his alarm the day they meet with the Johnson? Would that be taking it too far?

It just seems like so many shadowrunning teams I've heard about are so doom-and-gloom professional, and there's gotta be some comedy somewhere if the game is to be any fun, so why not create a guy like this?

Only down side is you would have to create a 'Nick Frost' type character to go with him (or not as Nick is quite a cool guy, if anyone out there has seen danger 50,000 volts they will know what i mean!)...... and destroy your vinal collection, may be you could attach C4 to them so they explode on impact?


torz x spin.gif

Also, I'm not sure where the comedic slacker-ness would end and the serious stuff that the team would hate would begin.  I mean, I get that I could probably get away with having him show up to a meeting in a non-formal setting wearing the same outfit he wore the previous night when he got puke-drunk, but what about something like sleeping through his alarm the day they meet with the Johnson?  Would that be taking it too far?

It just seems like so many shadowrunning teams I've heard about are so doom-and-gloom professional, and there's gotta be some comedy somewhere if the game is to be any fun, so why not create a guy like this?

Yes. And there's a reason for this.

In the game I'm playing, our GM gloats regularly about running the team through the ringer each week (with an occasional milk-run tossed in now and then, but even those usually end up suspect). We've already had 2 deaths and numerous near-misses (6-7 months RL played). And this is on a team that, for the most part, plays coldly, "gloom-and-doom" professionals. If we tried yucking it up and fooling around, not taking things seriously, the death rate would easily be quadruple this. And based on the comments/jokes/etc from other GMs on this list, our GM is, if anything, on the easy side of the fence.

I've seen a majority of GMs here who have all but admit getting perverse pleasures watching entire teams eliminate themselves, tossing in unreasonably powerful opponents (yeah, you know who you are), etc. Ask yourselves: If you want a little light-heartedness in your campaigns, then how does that jibe with the collective desire to ratchet up the threat level to near-nuclear levels? The only way to survive elite-level threats is to act like it; fooling around in a Special-Ops-type world gets your char and your team killed.

As for Shawn of the Dead, the threat there, when you look at it coldly, wasn't all that strong. The zombies, while having a dangerous bite, were incredibly slow, poor awareness (the scene where the heroes bluff their way through), and easy to avoid if that was your goal. It was primarily the protagonists absolute ineptitude (which I suppose made it funnier) that turned their into a threatening situation as dire as it got.
Light-heartedness has is place. A character who has a carefree attitude, but can still be effective when push comes to shove is not that far-fetched.
HMHVV Hunter
QUOTE (Fortune)
Light-heartedness has is place. A character who has a carefree attitude, but can still be effective when push comes to shove is not that far-fetched.


And when you think about it, that's what Shaun was like. Yeah, some of the weapons he used were strange, like the records ("Batman soundtrack?" "Throw it!") but he still beat the crap out of any zombie he ran across. Plus, he was the one that came up with the plan, if I'm not mistaken.

I suppose part of the humor would also depend on the group dynamic too, IC and OOC.
Plus, he was the one that came up with the plan, if I'm not mistaken.

A very bad plan, I might add. smile.gif Fun movie to watch.
Here is an example of a comic relief character. It is from a game that unfortunately fell apart. It was going so well, too. It's kind of long a just a tad edited.

[ Spoiler ]

QUOTE (Sphynx)
Seymour gets the message, his eyebrows and pulse raise as he realizes he's going to get a chance to do another Shadowrun. He'd bought a black turtleneck and black jeans this time, not that it was especially needed with his Ruthenium, but it made him feel cooler. He looked around and realized he was already sitting in Matchsticks, his regular evening hangout after work, so he slid off the bar, and into a back booth, where he could put on his shades and watch for the criminal element. He dared anyone to come up to his table and say anything, he was the epitome of bad ass and he'd kick anyone's ass for try... "Scuse me, you mind if we steal this chair, one of my girlfriends wants to sit at my table with me.", some cocky looking elf asked, "Uh... no; it's ok", replied the ever vigilant Seymour. But if anyone ELSE comes up and wants to say something.... Well, there's just no telling what Seymour would do. He was only nice to the elf cause the elf's girlfriend really wanted to sit with Seymour, he could tell by the way she kept avoiding looking Seymour directly in the eye. Avoidance was a sure sign of desire.

QUOTE (kevyn668)

Mike smiles, "No prob, omae." The snappy dressing irishman holds a glass up to the light to ensure that its free of spots and lipstick stains. Satisfied, Mike fills the glass with crushed ice and places it in front Sloan before pouring an amber colored liquor over it. The bartender focuses on something over Sloan's shoulder, "hey, who's that poser?"

Without turning around Sloan picks up the motion of a black clad man in the mirror behind Mike. He smiles as he watches the man slide into a booth and slip on a pair of shades. The elf prick was practically icing on the cake. Sloan chuckles a bit and motions the bartender closer. "Mike, can you keep a secret?"

Mike puts his elbows on bar and leans in close. "You know the answer to that. Get on with it, man."

"That, Mike, is one BAD-ASS shadowrunner." Sloan winks. "You should treat him right."

"Bulldrek. He almost freaked when that elf took the chair."

"Its all an act, omae. Its all an act..." Sloan give his full attention to the liquor.

Mike shrugs and runs a had through the receding shock of red hair on his head, "Whatever you say." The bartender goes back to polishing the glasses.

Sloan laughs. "No. Seriously, chummer." He nods with a big smile on his face.

Mike does not appear as amused as Sloan.

"Okay, okay...don't worry about him." He waves his hand dismissively. "He's a good fella. A little misunderstood, but who isn't, right?"

Mike just stares at the runner.

QUOTE (Sphynx)
Seymour sips on his drink, realizing suddenly that a Beer wasn't a good shadowrun drink. That was something to drink when he was roleplaying a dwarven fighter, now he'd need a good Shadowrun drink, and an old movie immediately came to mind. He waved the waitress over, the one that liked him, he knew that cause she also always seem to avoid looking at him directly. Finally noticing Seymours arm flailing wildly through the air, she made her way over, and in an exasperated sigh, which was unmistakenly a love sigh, she asks, "What?".

"Martini, shaken, not stirred.", Seymour replied in his best Sean Connery voice imitation. The waitress raised an eyebrow, she'd never done that before, but the curled lip thing he'd seen before, "A What? Never mind, I'll let the bartender know.", she quickly added on, realizing that she was too bashful to want to continue a conversation with Seymour. She was often bashful that way, one day she'd get up the nerve to ask Seymour out though, Seymour was positive of that. Not that he was too chicken-shit to ask a girl out, but he was waiting for just the right woman, not all these toothpick women who wouldn't make their own moves.

He took another sip of his beer, then pushed it away, as he suddenly realized he'd almost slipped into his Dwarven Battlerager persona. He'd wait for the Martini, which looked oddly the same as a beer, only in a smaller glass. "That'll be 5 Buttz.", the Waitress said as she placed the much smaller glass in front of him. Wow, it was twice as expensive as a large mug of beer, but he needed it to get into character. He slipped her the 5, and gave it a taste. Hmmm, tasted almost exactly like his beer, not sure why they'd pay twice as much for half as much of something that tasted the same, but if the Shadowrunners did it, so would he. He had a new favorite drink in this bar.

Seymour sips on his drink, looking out at the denizens, wait that's not right. Seymour sips on his drink, looking out at the wastes of society. Each wanted a piece of his pie, but he was a bad-ass Shadowrunner, and he wasn't going to just give them his pie. Hmmm, he tried to listen in on the barkeeper who was currently in a fit of laughter over something. He'd better not be laughing about Seymour, or there's no telling what Seymour might do.

Mike listens to the waitress relate the drink order. He looks at Sloan to see if this is for real, but he doesn't get any visual cues one way or the other. The bartender draws a draft, places a coaster over the rim and swirls the drink around a bit then pours it into a glass and sends it out.

Sloan gives him a funny look. "Well? What?" Mike asks.Mike listens to the waitress relate the drink order. He looks at Sloan to see if this is for real, but he doesn't get any visual cues one way or the other. The bartender draws a draft, places a coaster over the rim and swirls the drink around a bit then pours it into a glass and sends it out.

Sloan gives him a funny look. "Well? What?" Mike asks.

QUOTE (Drain Brain)
Sands looked around the bar, taking a swig of the bottle Mike had provided. "I'm gonna sit with the Butt. See y'all in a bit..."

He moved slowly over toward the table occupied by the resident badass. It was missing a chair, so he grabbed one from an adjascent table. There were three elves there, but four chairs and glasses... odd. They spoke to him, but he ignored them. "Whatever..."

Turning the chair backward, he perched on it, resting his elbows on the back and leaning low over the table, affecting as conspiratorial a manner as possible.

"Seymour - what's going down, man? You look ready to pull someone's ears off... Seen anything to report, chummer? Anything important? Huh, omae? And what's with the girly glass of beer?"

QUOTE (Sphynx)
Seymour smiled, it was one of those, "Hey, my long lost friend whom I never see, and has finally come to see me" type of smiles, often confused with the "Wow, someone's talking to me" smile that looked very similar under a certain type of light (that light level being anything above absolute darkness, btw).

He looked up at the elves stupid enough to be harassing his friend, he knew his glare would tell them he was not someone to trifle with. He waited til one actually met his gaze to finally drop his glare. He'd made his point. "Beer? Oh this, yeah, the bartender thinks he's funny. I asked for a martini and I get this, go figure, but I've never really accused him of having a brain or anything, so we'll let it slide.", he says with a wink. Damn... I KNEW it was a beer....

"Anywhos", he liked that word, it was so much cooler than saying 'anyhows'. "I was just kinda lookin over things in my head.", the annoying rambling of the elf behind Sands was distracting, but he'd learned from his mom years ago, she use to say, 'Ignore them, and they'll go away'. "Did you know that the east glacier end of Antartica was found to be resting on soil that has been deteriorating from beneath it? They give it 200 years before the eastern tip sinks and we all are walking with our heads underwater."

Seymour noticed that Sands was kinda ignoring him suddenly, but Sands was one of the cool types. He could be mean sometimes, but there was something to be said for someone who always had your back. Seymour would have Sands back in any fight, he almost dared those elves to keep pushing. There's no telling what Seymour might do if Sands hadda get in their loud faces.

QUOTE (Drain Brain)
Sands continued to stare at Seymour, concentrating on ignoring everything else, and trying to catch any reflections in the geek's oh-so-cool dark glasses that might signal someone finally getting upset with his pretend-glaring.

He took out and lit a cigarette, puffing a little cloud of smoke into the air over his shoulder.

"Seymour - stop glaring, you'll make them shit their pants... Cigarette?"

QUOTE (Tashio)
Thyrian pulled into the nearest parking lot with a screeching of tires.
The sound of Enya pumping loudly from his ride. Adjusting his shades and pulling his leather jacket on he headed towards the club. Nodding at the bouncers at the door he moved straight to the bar. "I'll have whatever is blessed this fine hour." I hope he does not have some cheap crap on special this time.

Tossing some cred onto the bar Thyrian threaded his way across the room to the others. Noticing the lack of chairs around the table he paused a moment.

Turning to the other table occupied by the elves. "Ah excuse me good folk." When he has their attention he continues. "Would you be so kind as to let me use your spare chair."

Without awaiting an answer he picks it up and drags it over to the rest. Seating himself in it backwards, taking a gulp of Mikes "blessed".

"Greetings and salu.. ah bugger it.... Whatzup?"

QUOTE (Sphynx)
DAMN! Forgot I had sunglasses on, they didn't notice my glare. Must try again, with a cool movement of the hand, well cool in that he didn't slap his face with it, but he did miss the sunglasses on the first attempt, Seymour removes his shades Oh... that's a guy elf.....

He prepares for his glare, contemplating how many dice he'd get to roll on intimidation if this were a real game. The thoughtful distraction, though not being enough to make his glare any less potent, did make him forget to glare, as he stared almost absentmindedly at the elves, who by now had turned away anywhos, damn he loved that word, as they seethed their way out of the Tavern.

"They were only 1st or 2nd level anyhows, they weren't worth the XP", he says out loud, eyes suddenly opening wider, as he realized it was truly said out loud. "I mean.... anywhos", heh, he got to use the word again, "round of drinks on me?"

He started to complain when none of his friends offered to buy a round too, and instead told the waitress that Seymour was buying drinks for the rest of the night. But, they were his friends, so he went with the flow. "Yeah, I get them tonight, you get them tomorrow", he added cheerfully. Though somehow tomorrow never seened to get him free drinks. Nonetheless....

Seymour leaned over, and in a hushed tone said, "So, we got some work to do?", he was definitely the leader of this group, he'd have to make most of the decisions, and getting them started was his job. That's because he was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with an 18 Charisma. He realized that he posed an intimidating figure, his size was nearly that of an Orc, people were scared of him, he figured with his Intimidation skill of 12, he wasn't necessarily the scariest, but it was high. He'd already calculated that he was at least a 6th level character, but he was confused about what Class he was in.

Oh... somebody was saying something.... Gotta quit daydreaming.

QUOTE (Drain Brain)
Sands let a little grin slide onto his face as he noticed Thyrian pull a reprise of his chair-trick. "Yo, buddha, take a seat..."

"Greetings and salu.. ah bugger it.... Whatzup?"

"The usual. Buttboy has been scaring off the locals with his piercing, petrifying gaze."

"...weren't worth the XP" The two chair-thieves looked at him, perplexed. "I mean.... anywhos, round of drinks on me?"


"Yeah, I get them tonight, you get them tomorrow. So, we got some work to do?"

"Indeed. Let's wait for the big-man and the dandy..."

The trio waited, sipping drinks, while Sloan spoke with the bartender. Only a few minutes later, and he and Lucas had joined them at the booth.

QUOTE (Sphynx)
"Willy Jack.... I know that name. He ain't all that, only reason he's so good is his tech, but I could take him.", Seymour grinned as a thought crossed his mind, "I bet he's one of those nerd types that sits behind a computer all day, overweight, living in momma's basement, only bad-ass cause he ain't got to look you in the eye when he calls you those names." It's frightfully obvious that Seymour really doesn't think he just described himself in a way, after all, he's a Shadowrunner, not someone fantasizing about what it would be like to run in the shadows. "Hah, *snort* Heh I bet his mommy even does his laundry!", he starts to laugh so much that he can't control himself. Tears roll down his eyes everytime one of his gutteral throat snorts breaks his laughter. The wide eyes and raised eyebrows of those around him doesn't seem to have even the slightest deterrent on his laughter, and soon almost everyone is laughing from the contagious laughter. Not so much because Seymour is funny, AND HE IS FUNNY!, but because you just can't keep a straight face when someone is laughing this hard. Every once in awhile, he almost straightens up, then says "laundry" out loud and is off into bursts of laughter again.

After a few minutes he does calm down, but with all the attention on the table, the conversation gets delayed even longer, which throughout Seymour apologizes, though often through weak giggles. Oh well, it wasn't that funny anyhows. Seymour had only started doing his own laundry recently, and only cause his mom walked into his bedroom and noticed that he always had the same 3 outfits washed, and everything else was dirty and on the floor. She's probably go back to doing his laundry again once he got his room cleaned up, but drinking beers with the guys was a higher priority. Even she agreed with that.

*               *                   *                       *             *              *              *

Seymour watched as the elves returned, their demeanors showing they were looking for a fight. The others at the table looked scared, but Seymour wasn't scared at all. Time seemed to stand still as Seymour leaped over the table, one hand remaining on the table as he did a spinning whirlwind kick, catching 2 of the elves in the jaw. They went down, and good. Seymour pushed himself with his one arm, and went sailing over the other 2, coming up behind them and with a deft move, clipped one in the head with a drop kick, while the other stood there, a look of shock on his face. With strength beyond what Seymour looked capable of, he grabbed the last elf by the head, and flipped him so hard that he spun 360 degrees beflore slamming into the ground head first.

"Seymour! Seymour! Quit daydreaming...."

Huh? Seymour shook his head, he coulda taken those elves, nobody else better try anything or Seymour just didn't know what he might do.

QUOTE (Drain Brain)
"He off home?" Sands asked. He got a slow nod from Sloan, who never even took his eyes off his drink.

"So we're calling it a night or what?" Thyrian gave a sagely bow in confirmation.

"Right. Seymour - you want a ride home? Hey, what time do you have to be in by - I thought we might stop for a takeaway curry..."

QUOTE (Sphynx)
Seymour laughs, Sands has obviously mistaken him for a nerd.

"I don't have a curfew you nut, Mom gave me a key so I could stay out late. Curry sounds good, this time it's on you.", he says, almost in a questioning manner as if he half expects to have to argue the matter, knowing that he'd be better off just accepting loss here and saving his Willpower for more important re-rolls in the future.

Seymour works his way around to the edge of the booth, squeezing himself out until he's standing there, ready to go. He waves to his future-ex-wife, aka the waitress, though she is doing her usual love stance of ignoring Seymour, then follows Sands out.

*             *                     *                 *               *                   *             *

Seymour didn't usually get invited to meets like this, and this proved no exception. His masculinity tended to put people on edge, he was sure it was the masculinity too, so don't try to argue. However, Seymour did greatly want to be at the meeting, so sat in the bar for the duration of the next day, sure that the team would use it as the place to meet the Big-J. Big-J is what the cool people call a Johnson, you could tell the wannabes by if they used the proper lingo or not. Seymour would have to prepare for the meet, he'd learned years ago that if you outstare someone, they knew you were the bad-ass in the group, definitely more bass-ass than they were. Seymour could outstare anyone, especially if they weren't looking. Seymour again sat in the back corner, and used the mirror on the wall to practice his staring. If he could outstare himself, he'd be more bad-ass than even he was.... Dont' ask, it makes more sense if you don't say it and just do it. That's how the team would find him as they slunk in one-by-one, staring right into his own eyes in preperation of the coming meet. Except... nobody on the team saw him, that much was obvious, or they'd have definitely said something to him, letting Seymour know they were there. By a late hour, Seymour realized that the meet must have been somewhere else, and his eyes were red from staring too much. He'd have to work his eyes out some, maybe he could flex them, he thought as he started widening and narrowing his gaze. Unfortunately, the waitress saw him, and mistook his efforts as a form of flirtation, because she started doing that cute giggle she so often did, although others would call out an outright burst of laughter. But Seymour knew better, only he could extract that melodic sound from her lips, and he beamed as she tried her best to stop her giggling. The team should appear at the bar soon, he was ready for them. He was Seymour.

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Seymour entered the bar, it was a late Friday night and he was tired from a full day's work. Someone was sitting at his table in the darkest corner of the bar, he'd have to do something about that. There was a secret to looking bad-ass, it wasn't about mouthing off, it was about exuding confidence. It wasn't about getting in someone's face, it was about never looking them in the eye, letting them know they mean nothing. It wasn't about flexing muscles, it was about demonstrating your mental superiority.

With those thoughts in mind, Seymour picked up the paper from the counter as he headed towards the table, a mug of beer and an order of nachos with cheese and salsa in hand. He sat down at his table, pretending to not notice that someone else had already occupied it. Laying down his nachos, he spread his paper out, taking up the entirety of his half of the table with it. Ah, crosswords, that was a sure-getter for showing ones superiority. Seymour immediately set into action his brain, solving line after line of the crossword. He took a swig of his beer, then grabbed a big nacho from the top of his bowl, loudly crunching on it in a most intimidating way.

Something went wrong though, the guy across the table also hadn't paid Seymour any attention, until he crunched on the Nacho. The strange man reacted by grabbing one of Seymour's Nachos and crunching just as loudly. The nerve! Those were clearly not free nachos, you just don't go and eat another man's nachos. He'd have to be set aright, so immediately Seymour grabbed another monster-nacho and bit as hard as he could into it, crunching away as loudly as he could muster. The nachos were taken, the crunching said.

The strange man wasn't one for taking a hint though, and reached over to Seymour's nachos, and took another, crunching loudly and slurping the nacho sauce into his mouth in a grotesque manner. Two can play at that game though, thought Seymour as he reached for yet another nacho, this one covered with cheese and a jalepeno. He licked the cheese off obscenely, biting into the Jalepeno like only a man could. It hurt, tears formed, but Seymour focused on the paper, and crunched loudly, he was the better man.... The strange man had balls, Seymour would give him that, for he took another nacho, this one with 2 jalepenos, and he ate them right in front of Seymour. I bet he's crying thought Seymour, who refused to look up and meet the eyes of this vile intruder.

The game continues, the man never relented no matter the effort. Eventually the bowl was empty, with the strange vile man having eaten half the nachos for himself. The nerve... then the man stood up, never a word said and headed up to the bar, where he sat down and drank some of his beer. Seymour had won the day in the end, the table was his now, and he could spread the paper out over the whole table. Moving the paper, Seymour discovered the most embaressing moment of his life. Ok, not the MOST, there were alot worse, but as he moved his paper, he noticed that there was a bowl of nachos under it.... right where he had placed it. This one without Jalapenos, and realization occured, Seymour hadn't ordered Jalepenos on his nachos....

Seymour looked up at the strange man in the metal studded leather jacket with the word SAND written on the back, then shrugged, not like he'd ever have to talk to the man again.
Sandoval Smith
And the bad assest day of them all was when Seymour was given his offical Shadowrunner name: Meat Shield.

That was awsome. Kudos to Sphynx.
I'm working right now on a rather lazy character... cat shaman, so it fits. He's running because he doesn't want to spend time on a "real job" and he wants big money fast so he can afford his lifestyle.

With that said, just because he's lazy doesn't mean he's incompetant. He's still a very powerful spellslinger, and while he's got plenty of spells focused on self amusement (entertainment, makeover, fashion), he can still help out a great deal in a fight... though he may complain if anyone gets blood on him. He's also a socialite, so he can help out the team a great deal there too.

Basically, you can make a character that's not a traditional professional theif, but he should still be capable of pulling his own weight.

QUOTE (Charon)
For example, trying to get back his Superbowl ticket that were lost at the laundr-o-mat and picked up by a member of the Rusted stiletos...

and for kicks as a GM i would have the run ON Superbowl sunday have him freak out trying to get every thing done before the game or even have him watching the game on the run.
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