Survival of the Meanest game

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Referee: RooK

Player: Dave

Introduction

Your eyes don't so much blink open as the brain they feed information to is activated. A thought is pre-formed, squatting in your fore-brain waiting to impress itself into the now-active neurons: "I'm new. All my knowledge is implanted."

Which feels sort of like an idiotic thing to think, as you don't think you actually know anything...

You find that you are restrained, in some sort of bio-tech cove with the frosty cover yawning open above you and faint angry sounds of gasses venting somewhere in the bowels of the mechanisms around you. You are in a well-lit work area, but before you can take in many of the industrial features a human female with a surly expression stands up into view and leans over you, inspecting.

"Are you sentient?" She licks at some blood in the corner of her mouth as she regards a holographic display that now attracts your attention by dancing near your head (and the noticing of it seems to cause feedback). "Yeah, looks like it. Are you sane?" This time she looks back and forth between your expression and your brainwave readouts, and rubs an ugly bruise on her neck. She makes an unhappy sneer. "Close enough."

She reaches up with her blood-caked hands and manipulates some controls, and you realize that you can now move your head and talk.

"Here's the sitch: whoever it was that originally paid for you and your siblings to be made, and kept in storage, stopped making their payments. So now you're reverting to be property of Induraten™. Which makes you slaves. Which transgresses my philosophical stance on involuntary slavery. So, like a goodie-goodie fucking moron, I came down here set you all free." Her eyes rove around the bio-tech cove you're nestled in. "These extra-schmancy pods should have been a clue - why have such elaborate safety restraints and controls on regular backup clones? I found out that I couldn't download any personalities into you guys, which was an annoying glitch in my plan - I had meant to download a few good friends I knew I could trust. But nooooo. Your synapses are all fucking crazy, with too much interconnection to response nodes throughout your body. There's just something weird about you guys. So all I could do is stuff in basic public-school stuff and fire you up cold and blank. Sorry." She gestures to the blood on her hands. "I also found out that if I tried to pre-load you with occupations that you didn't ask for, you freak out. And not it a nice way. SO." She takes a deep, calming breath. "What set of single-stage minimum-imprint occupations do you want?"

"And make it snappy. I've got one more after you to try to free, and if you go crazy and I have to kill you I want to have time to finish the other one before security makes its next sweep through here."

I gaze at the Human and mirror neurons fire in my brain allowing me to comprehend that she's been hurt. "Medic" I say. Then the remifications of what she said about security sink in. Being just born and in a pod I'm guessing I have no gear so I say "Guerrilla".

"How many can I have? One of each?"

"You can have as many different first-stage minimum-imprint occupations as you want. I should warn you, though, get too many and you'll suck." She gestures some controls. "This might be a bit intense - it's designed for not-yet-sentient beings."

Your brain tries to make you convulse horribly, except that your body is mostly immobilized. This does not prevent you from saying, "AHGRABBAGAAAAAGAGGLEBLEEEEAAAAAARCH!" with a spray of spittle and having your eye stalks flail about in a most unpleasant manner.

Then it's done, and you have a strong urge to say breathlessly, "I know kung fu." You also know how to access the diagnostic protocols of your nanoscopic robots, and notice that you are, in fact, Cool™. Plus, like the human said, there's something definitely non-standard about your neural processing.

"Want anything else?"

"I'll pass. Would rather not go through that again. So can you let me out of this thing now?" Meanwhile, I see if I can figure out what's up with my brain. Any weird computational power? Any MBA? Can I access any networks?

No mathematician, no MBA, no network connection here that you can access.

The human cracks her knuckles, cracks some bones in her neck, and cracks her shoulders with alternating shrugs. Then she gestures a command, and a new wave of sensation floods down you. At the same time, the pod tilts down. This is probably designed to help egress, but it also gives a view of nine other pods arrayed circularly (seven of which are open) and the three badly-bludgeoned corpses of some very burly-looking Trops. There is also a heavy vertical sliding door.

"All right, I guess we find out now if you're quietly-crazy..." She watches you with dark intense eyes, and is in a ready stance. "The way out of the facility is through that door, left down the corridor all the way to the end, and out the emergency exit there. Every other door is locked, and I have no equipment to give you."

"I don't think I'm quietly crazy... though I have no reference for comparison."

Using my newfound medic expertise, I try to guage how much damage the other Trops took before they died. I also eye the human to figure out her current stamina and what her max stamina would be - to try and figure out how skilled she is. I also look for an implement of bludgeoning.

"Have some of us already escaped? Seven open pods and only three bodies."

It looks like one of them took 6 of 3 max - both his skull and his chest are caved in. Another took 20 of 10 - he looks more generally tenderized, but his neck is both broken and crushed. The third corpse took 80 of 40 - so thoroughly pulpified as to appear meticulous, every finger broken, every joint snapped. The human has 26 of 43 stamina.

"Four of you guys thanked me and departed. How much further than that they've gotten I have no idea. These three - so far - have been less appreciative."

I look around the room to see if there is any medical gear. I also look at the pulpified dude and ask "Why so thourough?"

Do I have an internal communicator?

The only medical gear are the death-support systems in the cloning pods.

She purses her lips, as though trying to decide on phrasing. Then she just sends you some sensor logs:

LOG_1
It's a boringly-fixed binocular view of the exterior of one of the pods whose frosted lid opens with a creaking hiss, and nestled within is a very muscular Trop. The view looks the Trop up and down with a cursory review of physical condition (it appears to have 3 stamina), and then a human hand hoves into view and gestures and some corresponding controls on the death-support pod to animate the dormant nervous system. The eye stalks snap taut, and pivot to glare bloodshot. "Hey, it's O-" The Trop bellows with horrific fury and throws itself aggressively at you (or so it seems). The human hands lash out and gesture parries which intercept the Trop from several meters away, then you see the human carefully gesture an attack that drives the Trop to exactly 0 stamina, and causes the rib cage to collapse. The Trop is unfazed, again throws itself at you. The human hands parry again. "Stop! I'm not here to hurt you!" Another all-aggressive attack, and it's parried too - just. "STOP!" Yet another all-aggressive attack, this time it sneaks through the defense throws the slews the view hard. The hands lash out again, and pop the Trop in the head, caving it in and utterly killing the Trop.

LOG_2
Starts with the same fixed view, but the pod is already open and the Trop is already awake. It's just finished saying "HREAAAAGHNNNNNNNNNGH!" and having its eye stalks flail about most uncomfortably. "Want anything else?" "I'll pass. Would rather not go through that again. So can you let me out of this thing now?" "All righty, looks like the imprints worked, let's get you out of here." The hands gesture and the Trop is released. It quick-rises in the pod, then sends a spinning back-kick at the human, who parries. Force punch - parry. Punch - parry. Force punch - breaks an arm on the Trop. Kick - clips you near your point of view. Force punch - vital strike, breaks the Trop's neck. It's head lolling in a seemingly non-functional manner, the Trop attacks aggressively and smashes a formidable punch into the human's middle. Another force punch nicks the throat, but manages to drive it to just below negative 5 of 10 total. The Trop quivers, then attacks TWICE. Both are parried, but just barely. The human lashes out with no dice, and manages to nick the Trop again, this time taking it down totally.

LOG_3
"Want anything else?" "I'll pass. Would rather not go through that again. So can you let me out of this thing now?" A deep breath is heard. "OK" Gesture, and the pod does its release. The Trop steps gingerly out of the pod and looks at the two dead Trops. Looks down, and you can see him change from having 25 stamina to having 40 stamina. Then it looks up, grins, screams, and charges. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. The human lands twice as many hits, and the Trop is driven to below zero. The fight continues without pause. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. The Trop goes past -10, and not once flickers consciousness. Punch. Punch. Punch. Then the Trop quivers, and starts attacking twice per turn. This seems to really annoy the human, which bends chance in her favour - the next dance of attacks lets her land a devastating vital strike that drives the Trop all the way down to -40. The human relaxes a bit, and stands over the Trop. "That zarking sucked." Then one of the Trop's hands lashes out, but is unable to reach the human because she flinched in time. You stare at it for a moment, and while the main body is inanimate, both hands and both feet are wriggling and dragging the dead weight of the body across the floor towards you. "ZARK THAT." Every moving part is broken.

You have two normal internal communicators of typical power, plus hundreds of super-miniature comms networked throughout your body.

Cool.

Just to be clear, was she using force weaponry/beams, or MBA?

"Well that's interesting. I wonder why these three tried to kill you but the rest of us didn't. Do you want me to stick around while you revive the last one incase you need to subdue him?"

You're not really sure about mode of the force, but you think that if it is MBA then she's channeling it in a way that very closely conforms to how force gauntlets would function. And if she has force guantlets, they're implanted with sufficient subtlety that it's not obvious to you.

She snickers. "Yeah, no. Thanks. If you're just a more-tactical sort of evil, I don't want you waiting around to gang up on me if the next one also turns out to be one of the evil ones. Or, worse, one of the evil ones that also is clever enough to implant a stage of leader to max-out the a previously-lame combat stage. I'd prefer it if you just left."

"Thought of that... the leader part anyway. Figured I'd earn it normally for the shot at becoming a mentalist. Good luck."

I leave the room and head towards the emergency exit.

The human watches you leave, and the door to the room is primed to open automatically as you approach. Once you're through, though, you realize that you probably need some sort of access code to open it from this side. As indicated, the hallway ends with an emergency exit which has two doors separated by a 5-meter gap that can only be opened one at a time, and you can't open either from the outer side without an access code.

Immediately as you open the outer door, the shielding is penetrated and your comm is flush with available network signals to connect to. You are in an industrial district of a lower level of governmentless corporate haven stack in New Bronx.

Time to get lost in the masses...

I check to see if there is any public transit, and if so, I use it to get some distance from the industrial district. If not, I sneak. Also, I try to find a place to get a credit chip.

Once I have a credit chip, I keep a lookout for anyone doing some healing.

Not only is there no public transit in this pit of anti-social corporate basements, there's no crowds. There's not even really any architectural concessions for personnel movement. Instead it's rows of featureless blocks and tanks interwoven with huge conduits and no lighting. Glare from crude navigational beacons makes passive sensors over-contrasted, reducing visibility in most areas to under 50 meters. Looks like it's designed to be accessed only by flying vessels. However, various detritus and arrayed scraps betray that there are indeed local denizens…

Which brings us to combat rounds.

2011.01.14 - Kicking at the darkness until you see daylight

Takasago emerged into the industrial sprawl inhabited by bottom-dwellers and vermin - most of which was interested in eating him. He punched his way up through the food chain, acquiring some meager gear as he did so. He also found that he has two surviving brothers - one older and one younger. The older is Lawrence, who appears to be a discrete sort. The younger is Freddie, and he's much less pleasant.

Crawling up to a better-ventilated level, the burly Trop had to forcefully assure some slightly-tougher scum that he was not to be trifled with before he could make his way to an interstack bridge. Crossing the bridge, Takasago bears the hides of various foes as armour and is now well-armed with force blades, a thug beam, and a flail. He has pummeled to death (those that did not flee) giant gobblers, tiny stabbers, cocky shooters, oozing bubblers, galumphing trumpeters, galloping maulers, floating beepers, and pudgy squealers.

He's off to a good start.

Plot Infliction 01 - Bridge to Somewhere

The interstack bridge is the most bare-bones version that exists: flat-topped, straight, and otherwise featureless.

Basic dimensions of the stacks described on the information nets says they're all regular hexagons with 2km sides, that each stack is separated by 200m gaps, and that the stacks average 80km in height. All of which, considered a simple figures, seems pretty big. But stepping out onto that bridge and looking out at the perpetual glow tapering away beyond your ability to visually distinguish distance and teeming with ships of all shapes and sizes gives a gut-dropping sense of infinity. There's an almost-painful paradox of the yawning abyss creating vertigo while the boggling scale of the looming stacks presses you with a tendril of claustrophobia.

Damn, but you feel like a noob.

The opposite end of the bridge seems to have some sort of train terminal and security screening facility.

200 meters? Hope there are no snipers waiting for me to get to the middle. I check for any signs of bodies on the bridge. Are there others crossing?

Despite obvious trepidation, I start over the bridge at a quick jog.

The bridge is deserted. If there are snipers you don't sense them, and you cross the bridge without incident. Before you is a train station and security checkpoint. The train station is outside of the security checkpoint, and a pair of long maglev monorails run overhead along the perimeter of the deck. A quick query pings back that the next set of trains is due momentarily.

You see that there are light crowds milling around the train station, but nobody particularly stands out.

I check the route of the monorail and see if it stops near any bars.

I also philosophically muse about my existance. So far my purpose in life has been to get to safety and I seem to have accomplished that for now. Given my apparent pleasure at bludgeoning to death people with my flail I sense that my ultimate purpose in life will be to continuing the aforementioned bludgeoning whenever possible. Contrasting this is my initial instinct for the medical discipline which seems to indicate I also want to be a healer. Perhaps to set some sort of karma balance with the bludgeoning.

I think the short term plan is to hang out at a bar and attempt to sell my medical services while keeping an eye out for opportunities to express my bludgeoning urge.

The monorail's route circumnavigates the perimeter of the deck, with stations at each of the interstack bridges. There aren't any bars outside of the security perimeter in this stack.

It's also worth noting that the security checkpoints don't appear to be staffed, however that works.

Also, most decks at these low levels are largely industrial waste processing in nature, so most people to interact with are low-status workers or indigent.

I'll hop on the train for a few hours while I fix my existing armour. Then I pick a random checkpoint and head inside.

Since the train is outside the checkpoints, it is outside the jurisdiction of the nominal peace keeping efforts of this stack (Daroux Stack), it's not exactly what you would call a safe haven. Rather the opposite. You will not get any hours of respite on the train. The 12 short trains (6 each direction) circumnavigate the deck every 12 minutes, and their main purpose is to give travellers no excuse to wander blithely into their space.

Notably, there is also a distinct paucity of good hiding spots on the outside edge of the deck.

Well, let's see what happens if I blithely wander in. I head to the checkpoint.

The checkpoint has no staff. What it does have, though, is enough active sensors to make sneaking through be at -20. There's also an AI that hails you to give you a greeting, and a choice. "Hello, welcome to Daroux Stack. There are only two things in Daroux Stack: Members and material. Members may not be killed other than by the Terms of Collective Execution, and have inalienable rights of life, liberty, and property. All Members are required to carry Counsels and give their Counsels free and continuous access to their primary sensor feed. Material has no rights whatsoever.
...Would you like to be a Member?"

The comminication indicates a small token-like object dispensed from an automated mechanism, and superimposes the title "COUNSEL#1325117". The token-like object itself hails you simply to say, "Hi."

Ok then... I have a feeling I'll be going to a different stack.

I ask the AI: "What are the Terms of Collective Execution?"

The AI: "Execution of a Member is only permissible when a quorum of the Collective Counsels deems it necessary."

C1325117: "Well, he's not wrong, but that's misleading. Basically, you have to have been revealed as having conducted some sort of serious treason to be allowed to be killed. The real main idea is that it's not OK to kill a Member of our society - only our society's justice system can do that. And, frankly, we're much more likely to just expel individuals and revoke their Membership than to have them killed, because that's easier. Also annoyingly not clear from the introductory spiel is that any non-Member individual who kills a Member is pretty adamantly hunted and put down, which you should keep in mind - because self-defense is only a right Members have."

"Most non-combatants are strongly urged to accept Membership while in Daroux Stack, because many Members really are dicks about it. For you, though, I'd guess it's a tough call. It usually freaks strongly individualistic people out to have a hive mind peeking over their shoulder all the time, but in our defense I'd like to mention that it is damn effective. This is a rough neighbourhood, globally speaking."

The AI: "Apologies. This Counsel appears to be overly chatty."

C1325117: "I'm an exact copy of every other Counsel, and you zarking well know it, wall-socket-boy. It's just that this guy is cool™, and appears to be interesting. Is it wrong to want to hang out with somebody interesting?"

The AI: "Further apologies. This Counsel appears to be trying to wedge its metaphorical nose up your rubbery purple ass."

C1325117: "Don't make me convince the programming team to give you a hillbilly lisp in the next upgrade cycle, you egotistical light switch."

You have the distinct feeling that these programs get bored here.

"Ok... it's against the law to kill anyone. What if I get into a fight, win, but don't kill the other guy but say swipe all his stuff. Is that legal. Or what if I find some member, disable him, surgically remove his arms and legs and hang his torso from a tree? If he's not dead, would that be legal?"

I do a quick search on the nets for Induraten to see if they have any operations in Daroux Stack. Probably should avoid them if possible.

The AI: "We don't really have a legal system, per se, with explicit instructions detailing every circumstance. Everything is vetted by the Collective in terms of actionability and appropriateness."

C1325117: "Again with the technically correct but empty of context descriptions? Sheesh. First of all, it's worth mentioning that it's not against the law to kill anyone - just anyone who is a Member. Only about half the population of Daroux Stack are Members, for various reasons I'm sure you can guess. And, like I said, it's a tough global neighborhood, so combat is actually kind of encouraged in order to keep our population fit for emergencies. But there are all sorts of fighting. People who get into duels and agree upon what is taken from or done to the loser - well, that's just fair play. Sometimes it's just necessary to vent, or to teach some beings a lesson - also generally fine. On the other hand, to attack unwilling beings apparently for the primary purpose of taking their belongings and no other context - that's frowned upon. And a Member will be warned about that - but if they ignore the warning, we'll probably coordinate other Members to exact what seems like an appropriate retribution. A non-Member doing such a thing would just simply be killed for the trouble. So, your dismemberment example all by itself would probably be aggressively dissuaded, but if the target had it coming then it might actually be encouraged."

There are no Induraten facilities in Daroux Stack, as best as you can tell. It's harder to divine if they have any operations here, though.

What the hell.

"Ok. I'd like to become a member of Daroux Stack."

C1325117: "Cool. Just carry me with you and let me have access to your raw sensor feed. If you also are willing to maintain a communication link with me, I can try to justify my parasitic governmental presence by feeding you supplementary data. You can call me 'Clesziil'." It sounded sort of like "Kleh-ZEEL", but it also could have been a sneeze from a small wheezing amphibioid. "What would you like to be known as, and what would you like me to call you?"

I set up one of my communicators to transmit the sensor feed and communication link. "I'll call you Zeel, unless I have to sneeze. My name is Takasago. So, how do you tell the members from the non-members?"

Once the sensor feed is set up, I attempt to enter the stack.

Zeel: "Well, since all Members carry a copy of me around with them, and all of me talk amongst myselves constantly, it's actually pretty trivially easy to parse. If you want, I can overlay meta tags over everybody, including whether or not they're members, and any other public information that's relevant."

There's no hindrance to entering Daroux Stack. This level seems to be primarily part of the food-generation and recycling systems, so not a lot of people. There are some, however.

"So, what would you like to do? Being part of a hive mind provides me with all sorts of insights that might be helpful."

"I'd like to go to a bar. Haven't had anything to eat or drink in, like, forever. Also, wanted to set myself up as a medic for hire to earn some credits."

Zeel: "Sure thing. The bars down here are mostly for lunch breaks for working stiffs at the hydroponics systems, so I recommend heading up about 10 levels. That way you'll have access to more general population and a lot more combatants. How tough of a bar are you interested in: green, professional, or seasoned? And do you want me to advertise your services? If so, you should give me an idea of what sort of rate you're planning on charging."

"Up ten levels sounds good. Professional bar sounds about right. Sure, let's advertise. I'll charge 1 credit to apply someone's patch in a non-combat situation. 3 credits per patch in a combat situation. 10 credits to not apply any patches to a particular person in a combat situation. I'll charge 10 credits for an hour of work - a good heal with a med pack, or making some armour. They'd have to supply the biological material for the armour. Put that I'm a 1st stage medic in the ad."

Zeel: "Allow me to recommend the Bullen Bar." Coordinates and the most expeditious route are displayed. "Good food, above average service, and lots of training combat of the sort that can use medical assistance. Once we're there, your meta-tag should be sufficient to get you regular work."

"All right Zeel, let's check it out."

I go to Bullen Bar.

A fast elevator ride up a kilometer deposits you within sight of Bullen Bar. It's built sort of like a bunker incongruously embedded in the corner of a public square and adjacent to a large bazaar. The large array of vertical shafts dominate the layout, which spread out radially. The nearest other large structure is a modular parkade that can accommodate everything from small freighters to skateboards, and has a large repair facility built into it.

This is your first exposure to thick crowds, and it is an extremely diverse set of beings (or so your basic implanted understanding suggests). You are probably spared the full buffeting effect of the crowd due to your imposing physique, and the fact that you're wearing dead things in a manner most unusually un-repulsive. As advertised, searchable/filterable meta tags hover over virtually everybody's head. An unmentioned aspect is that Members seem to have much less data associated to them, while non-Members mostly seem to have disturbingly-complete dossiers available for public perusal - including something called a "karma rating".

Entering the Bullen Bar involves walking down into a shallow underground trench and passing through a dampening field. Once inside, the place is pretty busy. The main room is a toroid 100m in outer diameter with a 20m kitchen/bar occupying the center. The interior is 10m high, and there are some perches built into the ceiling structure. Dozens of floating platforms slowly drift about the bar, as if carried by circulating air currents 3-5m above the floor. A couple of these appear to be piled with vendors, plying a selection of wares and goods and services. Most, however, appear to be used mostly for fighting. Six separate fights are currently underway, with thin veil of civility clinging to the savagery. You have not seen any bouncers.

Within the first three steps you are pinged for what you would like to eat, drink, and have a customer interested in negotiating a lower price for a good heal.

"Zeel, what's the 'karma rating'?"

Not knowing what I like, I decided to order food alphabetically, so I order an ale. I'll probably get stuck on B when I order a beer and burger.

I attempt to locate the potential customer. "Make me an offer. You're probably in luck as you're my first customer in this bar and I'm in a good mood."

Zeel: "The karma rating is a data base overview of individuals interactions. Since the best predictor of future actions is past actions, most Members seem to find it useful. "

Potential customer Yiptak: "Dude! One credit!"

Well, now that's just insulting. Is he a member? "Um, I'm not in that good a mood."

The Yiptak is not a Member. "Heh. Couldn't hurt to try. Typical price on these decks is about 3 credits per die of healing for slow heals."

"Cool. Then if you got 9 credits, I got three dice of healing for you. And I'll make you a deal. If the stamina healed ends up being less than 7, I'll only charge you 3."

How much stam does he need to go up? What sort of information is being fed to me about him?

Yiptak: "Dude. Dealage." He transfers 9 credits.

He's at 4 stamina of a maximum of 22. Mostly a couple good blaster burns.

If you pull his dossier, you see that he goes by the name Kamdish. His karma rating is slightly positive, but is annotated with a caution that he's a bit of a mouth. He's a longtime resident of Daroux, and was a productive delivery runner - probably not a Member because of confidentiality requirements of deliveries. Due to his lack of trouble-making and reason for non-Membership, he's been tagged as an automatic review subject if anyone kills him, and as a possible future Member. He's been mugged a few time recently, though, which has lead him to start training in combat. He has mastered a stage of weapons specialist and a stage of mercenary, and appears to be training as infantry.

"Let's find a spot where we can watch the fights." I try to find a suitable spot then I crack open the med pack and start healing.

I try to match his chattyness as much as possible throughout the heal.

Finding a spot to watch the fights is relatively easy, and your ale is brought to the table. There's one particularly comic bout with two grotens with huge puffy gloves boxing - they seem to inflict only about 1/10th damage and send each other sailing. Every swing sends waves of flinching through the people behind the target as they get ready to duck. Both Grotens are roaring with laughter. This is balanced mood-wise by the human and the crocaloid who seem intent on gouging each others eyes out with what appear to be rusty sporks.

The Yiptak isn't so much talkative as he is lacking in filters, and his vocabulary is a bit simplistic with a definite lean towards the crude. The hour passes uneventfully and you heal him 13.

"Well, you can probably spend an hour yourself and heal up most of the rest of the way. Thanks for hiring me. I'll be sticking around here for a bit if you need more."

"Though if you are here for training... I could use a sparring partner where I don't have to worry about losing my stuff. Not sure how much of a challenge I'd be though."

Have there been any other potential customers?

The Yiptak's eyes seem to be bobbling in time with yours. "You look like you might be about my speed. How about whenever I win, I get half-price healing, and when you win I'll pay double-rate?"

Zeel confidently asserts that you could earn a steady 9 credits/hour pretty much in perpetuity.

"Heh, I'm totally in for that."

How's he armed? I'm guessing he's going to heal himself again before we find a platform... I spend the next hour fixing my vital armour. Unless he wants to spar now... I'll probably take off the armour for the fight as I don't want it destroyed. I have a feeling my usual method of acquiring raw material might be infrequent here.

The Yiptak nods. "Dude." He pulls out a patch casually tosses it in the air, seeming to wait for you, and watches the room with an air of suspicion.

I catch the patch... I assume it's meant for me to patch him, so I slap it on the wound I didn't get to with the good heal.

You startle the hell out of him. "Dude! Uh, thanks. But now I need to find something else to toss nervously while I wait for you..." He gropes around under his cloak and pulls out a small security camera with pin communicator, and starts tossing that instead. He actually broadcasts the feed, but it's nauseating.

Oh, and he's armed with two pairs of blasters, 1D+2.

I grin. "You're going to need it." Then I pull out my flail. "How do we go about getting one of those platforms?"

He looks down at you from his greater height. "They first-come first-served, baldy." He pulls out two blasters and gesticulates at the nearest empty one...

2011.01.28 - Some Training, An Ominous Encounter, And Some Revenge

Takasago and Kamdish spar with stalk-eyed intent for short intense fights interspersed with quiet hours of medical repair. And drink beer.

After the training had tapered off, Takasago was healing other customers to earn some additional funds when a tall, lanky battle robot strode into the bar. It surveyed the bar, then went to the bartender and questioned it. Zeel relayed via the Collective that the robot was looking for a being very closely approximating Takasago's description (and that it appeared to have an Induraten logo on it, and that it was probably out of Takasago's league). Takasago stayed hidden.

Kamdish, however, was less concealed and warned too late by Takasago, and was confronted by the robot. Which quickly turned into the robot trying to kill the Yiptak. Takasago felt compelled to help, which shifted the flail-whip-wielding robot's attention dramatically. Sensing that this was going to be too hard, Takasago used some of his earnings to contract a tough-looking shock trooper to assist. Badly outmatched, the Induraten battle robot fled, and the Collective watched it retreat all the way back to the industrial stack Induraten was housed in.

Takasago and Kamdish decided to leave Bullen Bar, for the sake of discretion.

They considered their next course of action, and worked out the idea that it was time for Kamdish to have revenge on the tormentors that had preyed upon him when he was a hard-working non-combatant. Kamdish lead Takasago up several decks to a quaint neighbourhood that happened to have a gang of Groten thugs. It was messy, but satisfying for Kamdish.

Plot Infliction 02 - Family Politics

Zeel had also indicated that the Collective knew about another Trolian Trop in Daroux Stack, and it sounds like it was most likely Lawrence.

We head away from the battle with the Grotens and find a place to lay low and heal. If time permits I'd like to fashion some gut and leg armour as well.

Actually, after we heal, let's move closer to the area Lawrence said he would be. I'll make the armour nearby so that if Zeel indicates the robot is back in the stack, I can get to Lawrence quicker.

With insights from Zeel, you can avoid "trouble" for up to 9 hours.

I spend two hours healing myself, and two hours healing Kamdish (if he needs it). I let Kamdish know I've got some errands to run, but he's welcome to tag along if he wants. Then I head to the area Lawrence said he would hang out in. Going to spend a couple more hours making armour - and I try to make it obscure my appearance so I'm not obviously a purple Trop. Then I start looking for Lawrence.

OK. You find Lawrence pretty easily, actually. He's listed on the employee roster at large weapons and equipment store. Unfortunately, you're not permitted into the back area where he works, and there's significant security present. You are permitted, however, to hail him.

2011.02.03 - Running To The Right

Takasago found his brother, Lawrence, and they had some information exchange. Takasago learned that they might be spare bodies for a being called "Ul", supposedly associated with an assassin's guild called the Nizari.

From there, Takasago decided to do some more sparring, and spent some time at a bar called the Battle Cube, in which he bested a Trop, turned a Massetin pink, and was thrashed by a foppish Zygroten. After Takasago had slunk away to heal his wounds, Zeel warned him of an inbound force of Induraten robots heading straight for the Battle Cube bar. Takasago took that as his cue to leave, and went down 10 levels to hide and continue his healing.

Where he was unpleasantly interrupted by a human who seemed to be looking for Ul, was also a member of the Nizaris, and as it happened was also a powerful mentalist who burned a deep mental mark into Takasago. Clearly, the random encounter tables are evil.

Seeking alternate setting, Takasago decided to leave Daroux to better conceal his whereabouts, and made his way to the slightly-xenophobic Republican stack. Seeking to change his armour again, to confuse his appearance, Takasago decided to attack a large seemingly-helpless felinid. Which turned out to be an incredibly annoying experience, as the felinid used highly-trained guilt and religious zealotry as a defense, partially paralyzing Takasago. Until, of course, Takasago summoned sufficient willpower to smach its damned idiotic neck and make off with its corpse. This was slightly hindered by some well-armed spectators, but not in a manner Takasago couldn't overcome.

More impressively, a large flail-weilding religious zealot followed Takasago in order to beat the evil out of him. This did not work as intended, and gave Takasago a more-worthy skull to use in making his new helmet.

Plot Infliction 03 - Faux News

The local information net still hasn't really made much mention of Takasago. But, if it does, Zeel assures you that it might be troublesome.

I see if there are any hotels nearby that I can book a room in for some privacy.

There's the "Patriot Inn" nearby on this deck. Or, a little further away, you can try hiding out at the Tea Party Suites or the Palin Palace. Going up a deck gets you to the Elephants Abode resort. Take your pick.

I think I'm going to hurl.

Aside from Daroux and Democrat, what other stacks are next to this one?

I also start looking for the nearest publically available fold space away from New Bronx and see what it would cost to leave.

Egad, man, every stack has six neighbours - this is going to get crazy-making before much longer. Next to Republican stack are Daroux, Democrat, an industrial stack that also borders with Daroux, plus Cleveland, Pittsburg, and Detroit stacks.

Pretty much every stack has a fold space. Population-oriented stacks like Daroux or Republican generally just have modest personnel jobbies, while the industrial stacks have some big ship-transiting rigs. Almost invariably on the upper decks. Where the real crowds are.

Bah.... stupid mentalist probably wouldn't let me near a fold space any way. Screw it. I find a place to hide and then slap on a patch to attempt to heal the 9 stam I need to go up. Then I crack open the med pack, and the reptiloid's skull and start working on vital armour. Instead of trying to cover each placement with armour, I'm just going to work on a thick helmet. If three hours go by, I'll make my way to the Democrat stack. The Republicans give me the willies.

I ask Zeel if he knows of any mentalists for hire that would be willing or able to scrub a mark.

The patch gives you 8 stamina, says my dubious dice program.

Three hours is somewhat slower than the news cycle in Republican stack - they're still busy being outraged at the Colloidling Menace and finding some way to pay for the small fleet of cruisers they don't need. Your helmet is as you would like it.

There is actually an exit interview required to leave the Republican stack, but it's more badgering than any kind of actual filtering mechanism. Entry into the Democrat stack requires agreeing to an EULA (consisting of some 16 billion characters) and filing it with an active scan of you.

Zeel: "I don't have active inquiry access to the Daroux Collective from here, but my archived index shows no Members that are likely to qualify. And, unfortunately, we probably wouldn't actually recommend that any Member attempt it - just in case they got lucky and did it, the repercussions based on what I saw seem likely to be quite grave. I mean, I'm a few wafers of positronic mechanism, and even I could feel reality rippling around that mark."

I think I'm going to cause some trouble. Obviously sooner or later the Republican's are going to have me in their news. If I can get on the nets here as well then maybe all the people interested in me will be keeping an eye out for me on these two stacks. Then I'll change my appearance and head back to Daroux to earn some $ being a medic.

You said I'd need a roll of 28 to scrub that mark, right? That means with rolling double sixes, I'd still need a will power of 16. As it's 8 now, I've got a ways to go. I think I'm still going to go up in Guerrilla next, but maybe after that another stage of Leader would be good.

I mark my helmet... so if I have to give it up again, I can trace it.

Sounds like a plan.

The mark was actually a 29. It was a lucky roll, too. Luckily it's not as well hidden as it is durable.

And you might as well mark all your stuff, and maybe consider marking your limbs.

2011.02.10 - Hard Times

Takasago strolled into a random bar in Republican stack, and found it choked with teetotaling churchy types and with a very harangued-seeming bartender. The pious crowd watched Takasago with disapproving eyes as he entered, and descended upon him descrying screeds after he ordered some alcohol. Things got out of hand quickly, with Takasago punching one and the rest pulling large handguns to "defend themselves". A long, gruelling battle between the lone Trop and the zealot crowd eventually wound down with those not dead dragging themselves out and Takasago having another beer.

There followed up with a rotund humanoid and a hulking Zygroten of the same sect rushing into the bar to help, but instead attempting to exact retribution. This time Takasago used actual weapons - thug beams - to try to avoid getting too close to the dangerous giant who was looking to squash him like a ripe pomegranate. As it looked certain that Takasago would again be victorious, the giant Zygroten fled. Takasago lingered a moment to finish off the humanoid, the pursued the Zygroten, and found it guarding the exit and apparently communicating with someone else.

Takasago charged, and the Zygroten retreated in a manner that let the police officers who were landing witness the aggression. They were immediately biased, and ordered Takasago about in a manner he was unaccustomed to. Worse, Takasago was not experienced enough to recognize that they police were armed with assault weapons. It did not go well.

He fled, for a ways, but the distances involved, the participation of the sentient police hopper, and the treacherous nature of the crowds hindered Takasago's escape. He was eventually brought down in a hail of blaster fire, and dragged off to prison.

And there he languishes.
...for now.

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