Shadowrun Pub
General => Creative Corner => Topic started by: Ruski on May 20, 2006, 11:35:42 AM
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Just finished up a run. I'll see if I can't get some of the runners to post their thoughts on it.
-RuskiFace the Pirate
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awesome
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Sorry, some of us runners have been busy with finals. I'm starting to get settled down into being lazy (post finals, but pre-job hunt) so I'll figure out what I can remember, and post it on here soon enough.
I have to warn you, the posts might be from the perspective of a pot-smoking surfer.
Cause, Dude... that would be awesome.
-kv
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lol, that sounds like it would be funny
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and then the runners wonder why their runs go so badly...
GM: "Okay, what is everyone?"
"I want to be a pot-smoking dead-head!"
"I want to be a sociopathic skitsopherenic!"
"I'm a homless sniper with amnesia!"
"I'm the Mad-Bomber who only bombs at midnight!"
"This is my first time playing, but I'd like to be someone with a big Axe!"
"Can I have gernades? do I have to be able to know how to use the gernades? or can I save thoes skill points and just 'try' to use them?"
GM: "Ooookay, let's see now. I need to find a run that someone would need to hire all of your 'special' abilities for... hmm... all I'm coming up with is 'Special-Olimpics'... but perhaps we could try a straight-up combat run... "
*sigh*
oh well. it went okay all things considered.
-RuskiFace the Pirate
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GM: "Ooookay, let's see now. I need to find a run that someone would need to hire all of your 'special' abilities for... hmm... all I'm coming up with is 'Special-Olimpics'... but perhaps we could try a straight-up combat run... "
If I could give Karma, that'd earn you two. That was hilarious! ;D
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*takes a bow*
I aim to please!
LOL
... I just wish it wasn't sooo true! LOL
-RuskiFace the Pirate
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Says the guy who wants to play a russian tank commander gone stuffer shack employee. ;D
-kv
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at least he's not psychotic.
green from the chloroplast skin replacement: yes
psychotic munchkin: no.
and, there would be less problems in the group if they didn't try to kill every little kid that crossed the street infront of them.
are the people you are bringing this weekend less heavy-handed in the gun department?
-Ruski
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No, not so much. But most of them won't be able to come anyway, so it works out okay. I just need to plan in case they do manage to show up, so there'll be something in the run for everybody!
-kv
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and, there would be less problems in the group if they didn't try to kill every little kid that crossed the street infront of them.
WTF?!!?!?
Gun 'em down like the rabid dogs they are.
More seriously, I feel with you guys, I've been there too. And none of the solutions are pretty.
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They might not be pretty, but they would make me feel a lot better (like petting a puppy while sitting in the sun).
Of course, I have two groups- one of newbie runners, and one of old-timers who think they know everything. :D
I can be mean to both of them. ;D
-kv
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newbies:
"Give money to a decker to get intel? can't we get that for free by just walking in the front door and pulling a gun on the lobby receptonist? "Heaya CHICK! where's youre secret data!?!"
Old-Hands:
"Hey, remember that time we walked in and pulled a gun on the receptonist to save 100Y on the decker contact and everyone died? that was awsome. Hey, this guy is totally munchkined out! let's do that again, I think I could live through it this time!"
-RuskiFace the Pirate
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*sigh*
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yea, being 'experenced' dosn't mean that you are automaticly smarter... just means that you have to try a little harder to come up with stupid ways to die, because you've already bought the farm all the easy ways.
-RuskiFace the Pirate
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No matter how many times you have bought the farm, it's still for sale. . .
If anything is ever made foolproof, the universe will make a better fool. . .
And dying in the same matter repeatedly only means that your that much closer to getting it right the next time . . .
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My personal favorite advice came from Jester, of all people:
Never argue with an idiot. He'll drag you down to his level and beat you with experience. ;D
I find this also is true of bitchy girlfriends. ;D
-kv
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In any case, I think it's time I finally tell you all about our fun in the sand- now this comes through a hemp-friendly friend of a friend, so I'm not completely sure how accurate it is, but this is the way he told it to me; -kv
We got a call from MFI, telling us to meet at the Renracu arcology food court. I drove my humble abode over there, parked in the non-employee parking, like a good little gaijin, and then walked inside to see what I could see. There was a lot of people crowding the mall- and why not? I mean, they needed that soy-cooker for the 45% off price, not knowing that after the store closed the manage would make the poor underpaid employee mark it down another 5% to make the sale.
Anyway. I got to the food court and started looking around- it had been a while since I had been to the Arcology, and that meant that I had forgotten to bring 150Y for a soydog and coke. I saw a group of very runner-ish looking individuals, (by runner-ish, I mean they looked mean, wired to the teeth, suspiscious, and homocidal) and sat near them, but not close enough to make me a target. Not that I look like much of a target, with blond dreadlocks and rather casual surfer attire. One of them looked slightly less mean, so I leaned over and asked if he could spare the change to help me get a soydog or something. He gave me a pissed off look, which confirmed to me that he was here to meet Mr. J as well. But whatever. He threw a couple of bills at me and told me to 'leave him the hell alone,' which I did, happily munching on my soydog.
It was getting pretty late- I know the arcology is open 24/7, but even then they have to have some time to clean everything, so the 3am-5am shift is where they turn off all the soy processors, and then use the backup one while they clean the other two or three. If you're ever in the arcology, avoid getting a soydog at that time- it tastes like feet.
Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah- it was getting late. The runners around me started looking more and more anxious, and then finally Mister Johnson showed up. I mean, normally he's the anonymus Mr. Johnson, who doesn't let you know anything about him, (or her) and keeps to the shadows and doesn't like to answer any questions.
But our hirer came in, smile blazing, and face just like I remember it from the Soy-Wheatos box. Gen. Whatshisname, the one with the cyber face. I heard they could have replaced it, but he wanted a more 'dignified' version installed. Plus, he was already mostly cyber, so what could a little more hurt? So he walks up, smiling like a superhero or maybe a celebrity who just got a rabid fan booty call. You know, whatever.
He sits himself down, and asks us to join his corporate team Desert Wars. I moved over to sit by the rest of the runners at this point, and the guy who gave me money for a soydog starts barking at me that this is a private meeting. I said something clever about how I'd pay him for the soydog out of what I made on the run- it was really clever, but I don't remember it right now.
Anyway, we were hanging out and asking the General questions- this was a six month gig, where we get paid in advance, wait for when they need us, and then if they don't need us within the six months, we're off the hook, scot-free. I figured that even if they didn't need us, they'd drop us over the desert during ratings month, just to spike viewership, but whatever. I'll sign up for this. Most everyone else agreed, and so the General opens up his breifcase and pulls out one of those slick cuff injectors, like the old blood pressure cuff machines, only this one injects something into you. I had been the first to agree to the job, so I was the first one with my arm in the cuff, when it suddenly occurs to me that maybe I don't want whatever it is they're injecting into me injected into me? Does that make sense? Like, I heard about this one guy- they gave him this deadly virus and if he didn't do what they wanted, he would die- oh, wait... that might have been a movie. Doesn't matter... well, maybe it does. Whatever.
So the General gave us our paychecks, I tried to pay back soydog man, and he got all pissy about it, and then the General said we had one month to spend our pay, and then we would be shipping out. Turns out while I wasn't listening, he had said we would be waiting on a space station to be deployed, floating around all happy-like in zero-G. I was actually kind of excited about it, so I went off, took a two week surfing trip to the south pacific, visiting all those places I've seen in Trid-flicks, and when I got back, got some storage for my van (and other living neccesities and stuff... if you know what I mean), and then walked up to the place we had been told to meet, and met up with the rest of the group. Some of them looked like grumpy mother-fraggers, which didn't enhance the mood of having to spend the next six months in zero-G with them... but I've heard that mages go crazy when they're in space for too long... so maybe I was the reason they were all grumpy. I dunno- maybe they were all afraid that I would go all 'The Shining' on them or something.
So we walk in the front door, and the General is there smiling really big again, and he has us put our arms in the cuff (again) giving us the nutrients or whatever to be in space. We start loading up our stuff, and I kinda daze off...
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for thoes less stoned durring the interview process, the 'injection' didn't actually put anything into their bodys. it took out a ritual sample.
the corp they were working for had a contract with aztechnology to obliderate anyone who 'took the money and ran' through that sample seeing as how they got paid upfront, a month in advance, and they were a bunch of deranged criminals.
the second 'injection' wasn't an injection at all. it was just a compleate physical. they were going to be sedated for their time in space, and whenever you put someone into a coma for 6 months, you have to know everything about them metaphysically if you want them to wake up at the end of it.
so... yea... anyways.