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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Did you?


Was that email sent to me?

Posted on 2006-09-14 at 19:39:08.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Certainly


Since our PMs only allow for individuals to be sent the message right now emails are best so that I can be included in all of them.

Posted on 2006-09-09 at 18:02:58.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: It all be set up Choombattas!


All right folks, it is all set up. Now, we'll have to backtrack a little, but hey, it's fun right?

Posted on 2006-09-06 at 19:26:33.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content


The last post from me.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:15am

Peacekeeper acknowledged Croaker’s instructions with a nod and retrieval of her phone. Flipping the face open she thumbed through the last number received and hit dial.

“Spiff? Peacekeeper,” she’d have liked to of been able to look out the back of the van, but the steel door had no windows so she stared out the little bit of the front that she could see and continued her conversation as per her instructions. “We’re in the area. Have you picked us up?

“Good. We’re going to park this rig. The meet’ll take place once we’ve stopped.”

That said, she ended the conversation (unless Spiff has any questions that need answering) and drops the phone back into her jacket pocket. Just as everyone else in the van seems to be doing, Peacekeeper does a brief weapons check while Bullseye finds his preference for a place to park.

The Mean Streets – Night City – 11:05pm

Doing his best to hide his surprise, Guardian shrugged. "You getting soft with age, Scribe?" The black bodyguard then smiled softly and shook his head sadly. "No, old friend. I'm afraid I didn't pack anything that doesn't kill or cut this time... Unless you'd consider my fists and feet as such of course. I've got the Tae Kwon Do chip, but nothing ranged."

Frankie tightened his lips and gave a nod. The news was disturbing to him; despite his intention to get the story no matter the cost, and his belief that Croaker would likely not be as kind the next time they met, DigitalScribe hadn’t stopped feeling a certain familiar fondness for the gruff nomad (though he only worried about Jaimy out of respect for his friend).

“Well,” he said in a soft voice as he peered out the windows into the flashing rain. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

The rest of the ride was spent in relative silence. Frankie had a lot on his mind, spinning and crafting the words that would make up his rhetoric when he actually went in to splice the story together. He already knew he was going to write it out for the screamsheets and the Net-feeds; he also knew that he was going to document the whole thing digitally and create a “live-action” report with voice-over once he had the whole thing pieced together. This offered the best possible coverage and the greatest opportunity for return.

“We’re here.” The cabbie rapped on the protective shield between them with a knuckle as he glanced briefly over his shoulder. DigitalScribe blinked away the construction of his story and peered through the rain at the red building that loomed up on the left-hand side of the cab.

“Go around,” Frankie instructed their driver. “To the other side.”

The cabbie complied, hanging a left and driving along the north face while his passengers took in the relatively clean appearance of the building, the glowing activity inside, and the empty streets surrounding it. Then they were past, moving further down the block towards the west corner. “Let us out here,” DigitalScribe ordered as they drew up on the lit street. The cab pulled over to the north side and with a touch of a button the credchip reader in the back stopped calculating the fare and displayed the total in digital display. Frankie fished out his image wallet and retrieved his credchip with a grimace on his face. This had better be the pay-out you think it is Frankie old-boy, he thought as he swiped the chip and received confirmation that the fare (plus tip) had been deducted from his account. By this time Guardian had already vacated the vehicle and was standing with the door open getting wet all over again. Scribe slipped out and silently sighed as the rain started coursing down his neck and back. He slicked his techhair back and watched as the cab left the curb to speed away after its next call.

“All right,” Frankie said while pulling his collar up and glancing worriedly at his shoulder-mounted camera. The device was combat ready and a little rain wouldn’t hurt it, but it was one of Scribe’s most prized possessions so he fretted over it anyway. “There was a parking lot just south of the building on the interior of the block. I think we’ll head that way and begin our little scouting operation. What d’ya say Guardian?”

Pier 2 Paradise Rent-a-Space – Room 14b – Night City – 11:02pm

The Red Cab was waiting outside for them when the group of four hit the main floor of the Paradise Rent-a-Space building. The janitor glanced at them with some trepidation as they passed, probably having been informed of the body he’d have to clean up in 14b, though the meat would bring the man a pretty penny at the body bank if he were the scalper type. Before Spiff stepped into the rain the Reverend ducked his head a bit and eyed the black storm with reservation.

“If you tell me t’ ride this one with you Spiff, I’ll ride,” he glanced at the hombres he’d arranged as protection for his boss and gave them a nod. “I ain’t a gunner, and’ll be of better use to you working the business, si?” What he said was undeniable. The man was a decent lieutenant, but he was no solo. The two gangers he’d arranged to ride shotgun weren’t even solos—there was nothing professional about them—but they knew how to use those guns and could intimidate most of the common rabble that Spiff had to deal with on a regular basis. The fixer had never been so lucky as to have a childhood friend like the Piper, nor had he reached a point in his career where he could afford a fulltime bodyguard. Maybe after this run Springed-Heel Jack’s promise would make him prominent enough that he could expand his horizons.

With the troupe in the cab and on the road their passage across the High Street and into the neighborhood of the address he’d been given was uneventful.

The Mean Streets – Night City – 11:32pm

Arriving on the scene, Spiff instructed the cabbie to wait, pulling up by the bus depot so as to remain inconspicuous. “Si,” the Hispanic driver acknowledged, professionally keeping his eyes on the road. “Would you like to listen to some music while you wait gato?”

Whether the sounds of Mexican Rock play through the cab or not, Spiff has plenty of time to make whatever phone calls he wishes to make and the cabbie (who is apparently savvy enough to understand the Rules of the Streets) plops earphones in so that he can’t overhear while the others stare out the windows. A little over a half-hour later, with very little comings and goings at the building designated the Hole, Spiff catches sight of a MDS Delivery truck turning left onto the street he’s on and making its way away from him. Following the fixer’s instructions the cab peels away from the curb and falls in four car lengths behind, making the rounds of the block…


Posted on 2006-09-06 at 19:14:28.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I'm sure it is a temporary dislike...


Ok, it looks as though we've heard from everyone so I'll get the Recruitment thread and the Game Thread back in order. Then, we can begin shooting things again.

Posted on 2006-09-05 at 23:13:57.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020


All right Choomba's; the game is still on. The characters are here, but are the players?

Players needed: If people are interested, I'll entertain entry...

Croaker | Nomad | Male | Tann'Talas
Peacekeeper | Bounty Hunter | Female | cdnflirt
Guardian | Bodyguard | Male | Raven
Spiff | Fixer | Male | Suicidolt
MDK | Solo | Male | YeOlde
Ligthing | Tech | Male | Draker
Bullseye | Nomad | Male | NPC
Firewind | Medtech | Male | NPC
DigitalScribe | Media | Male | NPC
Springed-Heel Jack | Fixer | Male | NPC
The Piper | Solo | Male | NPC

Deaths and Exits
Preacher | Solo/Netrunner | Male | Left the party injured and looking for medical attention. Payed by Jenthliadon last.
Swiper | Netrunner | Male | Limbo while Netrunning. Last played by Ayrn.
Coyote | Cop | Male | Was killed at the Hole by The Wild Things. Played by Blammm.
Kendi | Solo | Male | Killed in a gunfight in an alley with security guards. Played by Jenthliadon.
Torrent | Solo | Female | Kendi's partner. Killed in a gunfight in an alley with security guards. NPC
Jazzer | Netrunner | Male | No longer in play

Roles:
A really creative cat can fit any role into a contract, but there are a few roles that work well for this particular gig: Solo, Netrunner (possibly), Medtechie, Techie, Media, Corporate (somewhat), Fixer (A little more so than a corpse), Nomad, Bounty Hunter, Investigative Reporter, and Private Investigator.

Style:
Look, gato; this is ‘Punk. If I gotta explain to you how important style is, you should reconsider your application. When you create a character make sure you follow the rules. You’re allowed 75 Character Points. You can’t have a Special Ability over 7. And you have to figure your starting cash right. Buy your gear straight from the books, Cho’. If you have a question about it, ask. I’ll answer, I promise. If you don’t list it on your character sheet… you don’t have it. That includes yer skivvies, punk. Oh, and I expect you to detail where the item is located too. If you’re carrying it in your bag, make sure I know where it is. If it don’t have a location, its considered left at the last place you were at before postin’ and that could be really bad…

Note
If you’re going to get a cell, treat it as a top of the line phone for modern day plus some (vid-phone, all of the features of today’s phones, longer battery life, etc.) and tack on a 30Eb/month bill, no up-front fee. You’ve now got a contract, Cho’. Better hope you can uphold it. Make sure you list all of your monthlies. Also, if ya want a Net Access Code, it is coming outta your starting Eb. :


Entrance Exam:
Naw… just screwin’ witcha. There ain’t no exam. But, I do expect you to be able to write. I hate trying to decipher screwed up vernacular and spilled alphabet soup. You gotta be descriptive. If I’m gonna spend time writing a good tale, I expect my players to join in the storytellin’. Here’s a hint: write your post in a word processor before submitting it. Spell-check. Grammar-Check. Then post it. I’ll accept abbreviations of words like “screwin’”, and “they jus’ don’t know what thar gettin’ into”, and such if it is for the sake of expressing the character’s verbal conduct, but I won’t accept ChatSpeak, ALLCAPS, strange variances on the English Language for the sake of sounding “cool”, etc. I think you know what I mean. Don’t make me shoot you.

Know Your Surroundings:
READ MY POSTS. I’ll give you the same respect. Don’t take liberties… if you have a question ‘bout what’s there, ask and I’ll answer. Don’t play God or I’ll have to perform deicide.

Location:
Night City, baby. The home of the cyberpunk movement, but that don’t mean it has to stay there.

Language:
We’re in a public forum, gato. Don’t go throwing language around like it was yesterday’s news. Substitute the F-bomb for Frack, Frackin’, and Fracking. Use slang… show me you’re intelligent enough to substitute frog-speech for something interesting. I won’t gripe at the occasional colorful metaphor, but if it gets out-of-hand, I’ll have to shoot you, and you won’t like that.

Sex:
Ya… I know, I’m gonna hear it: “’Punk is all about sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll.” Well, we’re in a public forum not the adult forum, so keep the sex outta this. You can hint at relations, but you get descriptive and I’ll have to shoot you. Man, that’s comin’ up a lot lately!

Involvement:
I know you got a life. I’ve got one too. But if you join this game, I expect ya to keep current and not be the one holding up the game. I reserve the right to be the only one holding up the game. Comprenda? Ain’t it a bummer when you’re all revved up ready to carry on and some poodle sitting next to ya is licking their… well, you get the drift. Hold up the game and I’ll shoot—ok, you know what I’ll do. Try to post every couple of days minimum.

Death:
It’s bound to happen. You’re gonna die. I mean, no one lives forever, right? Well, if you’re one of those who is dealt the Ace of Spades, don’t take it personally. If you’re enjoying the game, submit a new character. I’ll find a way to slip ya in. If you’re not enjoyin’ the game, then you’re probably thanking me for icing your sorry butt anyway!

Cyber:
Sure you can take out a loan from a Fixer or Corporation to get the added metal, but expect me to show you the consequences of trusting your soul to the gods of 2020. Hell! You can even bring a full ‘borg conversion in (if your character survives the EMP loss), but expect there to be a downside as well. Full ‘borgs aren’t walking the street left, right, and center, ya know. They cost an arm and a leg and most people go ‘psycho before they go ‘borg, so they aren’t as common as some GM’s would have you believe. Trust me… I’ve talked with Mike Pondsmith about this. Chances are ya aren’t gonna start with a lot of metal. Be grateful for it… going ‘psycho ain’t pretty.

Speakin’ of Which:
Cyberpsychosis. You reach that point and I’ll take your character over, turn him on your friends, have him eat the neighborhood cat, torture his family to death, and wind up standing center stage for Network 54 while MAXTAC stuffs a rocket up his backside and turns the night sky into a 4th of July celebration. Watch me. You drop to a 3 EMP and you’re a cold-ass, bee-otch. You go 2, and you’re makin’ out with the toaster. You go 1 and any little thing could set you off. Where most people cry at the end of Old Yeller, you’re crying at the end of Maximum Overdrive and holding court in the junkyard.

I.P.
No, this isn’t a statement of urinary prowess. I will award I.P. as I see fit. This means that just because you succeed at using a skill doesn’t mean I’m gonna dump a truckload of I.P. on your head, sing your praises, and watch you advance to GO. I give ‘em as I see fit. No argument.

Argument:
Do it in private messages, and when I put my foot down, don’t tread on my toes or I’ll have to shoot you.

Zonin’:
Don’t go ramblin’ about last night’s football game, or the fantastic turkey sandwich you just experienced that took you to the next level of Zen. This area is for Cerebral Paradox only, Cho’. Don’t make me prune… I hate pruning. I won’t mind shooting you though…

Lastly:
Cook for two-minutes on high, rotate, then cook for one-minute. Let stand for five-minutes and… Enjoy!


Posted on 2006-08-30 at 19:46:14.
Edited on 2008-01-24 at 13:35:38 by TannTalas

Topic: Trilogy War Q/A
Subject: My time is limited, but...


Ok, I'll try to bring Cor back around.

Posted on 2006-08-30 at 19:20:20.

Topic: Star Trek: Discovery - Q&A
Subject: I'm good...


I'm good either way; new mission, continue the old one. Kel and Sherry are ready to go.

Posted on 2006-08-30 at 19:17:56.

 


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