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Author Topic: Back to the Shack  (Read 10692 times)

kv

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Back to the Shack
« on: November 19, 2011, 03:25:38 PM »



It's the great equalizer. It'll stop a troll the size of a car as easily as the smallest dwarf or thinnest elf. It ain't a weapon, spell, or even a dragon- it's hunger. When it's time to eat, you just gotta get the stuffers into your stomach before you go beserk.

What are stuffers? They used to be called junk food or munchies. They're probably just as good for you as the nutri-soy and krill-filler, reguardless of those ads from the UCAS Nutritional Council.

When the hunger pangs hit, there's only one place to go (especially when the sun rises in about an hour) to find that kind of chow. It's the place everyone loves to hate: Stuffer Shack.

Quote from: GM Stuff
Okay, everyone, post what you'd be doing between 2am and 4am on a Thursday morning, what you're craving, and how you're getting there. For those of you without cars, bum a ride from a roommate, steal one off the street, or take the metro. Have fun! Play Shadowrun!

Instructions about where items are in the stuffer shack are in the Shadowrun Quickstart rules, page 16. You can download it for free from http://www.shadowrun4.com/wp-content/uploads/Downloads/Shadowrun%20Quick-Start%20Rules.pdf
« Last Edit: December 07, 2011, 07:12:48 PM by Kid_Vid »
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"There are three rules to surviving a gun fight.
1) Shoot First
2) Shoot More
3) Shoot last
   If you can do that, you can survive."
                                 -Samus Bravo
                                (Mercury's Father)

Ingo Monk

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #1 on: November 19, 2011, 03:39:05 PM »

Quote from: OOC
Just pulled my post from the thread Ruski started and moved it here since it was relevant.  If you want something different let me know!  By the way, I like the idea of using quotes as OOC info. ;)
-Ingo

Eric rubbed his eyes.  They told him coding on image links would be much easier on the eyes than doing it on a normal screen.  Heck, they even told him having cybernetic replacements would remove eye strain all together.  Well.. his new fake eyes still hurt.  "Give yourself some time to adjust" they told him, "you'll be fine" they said.  Liars.  He eventually found out it had something to do with how his brain was wired, and there wasn't much that could be done.  He was part of the 0.0001% with this issue.  "How special I must be" he thought.

Eric shifted his focus to the image link.  "2 AM" he said to himself.  He had a meeting with his recruiter at 9, so he wouldn't need to sleep until 4 or 5.  He was hopeful for the meeting, he had blown the money from his last contract adding drone racks to his truck so he was running a little low. 

His stomach was roaring at him so he checked the mini-fridge.  "Empty, just great."  With a thought the Ares Roadmaster's systems began powering up, the slight humming of it's systems pulling him away from his thoughts.  As he walked to the 'pilot's seat' as he called it, the Roadmaster's engines roared to life.  The modified exhaust emanated a deep growl that he thoroughly enjoyed hearing, one of the upgrades he liked best. He ran his hand across the dash as she woke up.  She was black on black, sitting in stark contrast to the light grey corp plascrete that surrounded her.  The morning before he bought her he had come across catchy song from a century prior by a band called Ram Jam.  "Morning Betty" he said with a smile. 

As he sat and buckled himself in he checked the sensors to see what was going on in the immediate vicinity.  A homeless guy was holding a bottle of weak synthahol and talking to a wall.  Apparently the wall was named Richard, and he owed the guy a few hundred nuyen from the card game last week.  He must have gone through a case of those bottles to be that plastered.  A couple was walking to their car from the night club down the street.  The guy was looking at everything but her face, while she went on and on about how much fun she was having while trying to walk in a strait line.  Eric hoped for the guy's sake he bought her the right number of drinks, one too many and this sure would be a night he would remember.  A few aircraft and drones zipped about the clear night sky. He made sure the weren't watching him, making note of their serial numbers in case he came across them again.  The corp lot he was parked in was empty.  They had allowed him to park in there even after he finished his contract with them, but after a couple of days he might be overstaying his welcome.  "Time to resupply" he mumbled to himself as he brought up his mapsoft and plotted a course to the nearest Stuffer Shack.
« Last Edit: November 19, 2011, 03:43:58 PM by Ingo Monk »
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Ruski

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #2 on: November 20, 2011, 08:34:13 AM »

Sly woke up with a lurch; his arms striking out at invisible monsters almost of their own accord.
*CRACK*
The sharp snap of forehead striking shelving bin snapps him back to reality.
In the distance he can hear the trail end of a land-train rumbling away down the road, eventually quieting down so that the only sound was the more steady traffic murmurs from the overpass above him, and the patter-drip of rain against the windshield and roof of his van.
Sly sat up again, slower this time, making sure to duck the shelving bin hung directly above his fold-down cot. Sitting with his head cradled in his hands he does what he can to massage away what is sure to be the first of many headaches today.
Checking his internal comlink he confirms what he already suspected. Nearly 2am. Cell-service is still suspended until payment can be made, and 400 missed calls have filled up his voice/video mail provider.  Due to insufficient funds he can’t read the actual messages, but the ‘from’ field tells him everything anyways.  The Bank.  The other Bank. The credit collection agency.  Student loan company. Permits Office. The list goes on; but they’ve all got the same content. ‘Where are you: the rent is due’.
Sly reaches under the bunk-plank and grabs a flashlight.  Full Charge. Two hours or better. The light from the occasionally passing vehicle over head is more than enough to illuminate the interior of the van for his low-light vision, but given the option of facing a day with nothing in his hands, and the option of at least having a heavy flashlight handy… he would always chose to have the edge.
Sly’s stomach rumbles with a growl that’s more howl than growl.

He angrily mumbles to himself “Superthyroid, little bit faster and stronger, there’s hardly a downside… unless you can’t afford food… then you starve to death in like three days.”
Activating the Mr.Caffeen and Mrs. Soy machines he dumps the last of the tablets into the processing bays.
“Breakfast of champions… it is the most important meal of the day…”
He checks the calendar on the wall.
“John Ryley. 6AM. Devil Rats .”
He looks over to the equipment carefully stored and cleaned.  He wouldn’t probably need the vest. Then again, He’d rather wear it and not need it, than need it and not have it.  The dark red ‘devil-dress’, a rip & stain proof uniform complete with helmet and respirator would fit over the armor and had enough pockets and clips to sate the apatite of even the most kleptomaniac of adventurers.
Although his pockets were quite a bit lighter on tricks these days, he still had more than he descended into that first ghoul warren with.
A nice heavy flashlight, and a backup of the same. A shock glove for things that got too close. The bulky ruggedized LASER for things that needed serious dissuading,  Of course, there was always the completely silent pistol crossbow.  The crossbow was his favorite. A much more advanced version of what he descended into that first dark hole with. Oh well. Fortune and Fame, and all of that.
Another early morning land-train rumbles overhead breaking his thoughts and driving away the nogalistic feelings.
A clear ‘ding’ from his appliances notifies him of his breakfast being ready.
The Black-Tar Coffee is churned out into the waiting cup.  The cup is a bit battered like everything here, but at least its clean.
The Mrs. Soy isn’t so friendly.  The cardboard and rubber tire flavored paste it pushes out into a bowl is devoid of the expensive flavor additives.  If he wasn’t starving he would happily do without.
Turning on the vanity light and mirror Sly initially winces at the brightness of the light, and then fixes his hair while trimming up his goatee.
Clicking off the light plunges the interior of the van once again into darkness as his eyes adjust back to their natural low-light preference.
Eyes closed and re-adjusting to the dark he dumps the coffee into the soy paste and drinks down the foul coffee flavored tar combination as quickly as possible.  His stomach is still voicing protests as he sanitizes the dishes and puts them back into their holding spots.
He goes through his mental checklist.
Full charge battery in the LASER. One charge pack in the side pocket. Three charging in the van.
Two extra braces of bolts for the crossbow, with a full brace in its internal magazine.
The sword, in all its impressive glory, would wait in the van. If he needed it on this call, he would be running away, and re-negotiating the pest elimination price before going back.
The crossbow, a silent and dis-ambiguous self-assembling contraption was built into a wrist-guard worn on his right arm. Work boots, polished black and laced tightly finished out the uniform of the day.
After gearing up Sly moves to the driver’s seat of the van, punching up the electronics.
The Hacker charged a lot, but letting him steal electricity from the grid-guide system to charge his electronics was one of the few luxuries he had. Disconnecting from the grid he dropped into the first person control mode and laid out a course to his only job today.  Like most of his few remaining jobs, this one was in redbluff where the people who knew him from his original office in Seattle still liked him for past heroics, regardless of what everyone else said. If he could find a discrete overpass to hide under there he would be better off and save on fuel charges; but he hadn’t found anything yet.
“The Early Devil gets the rat…”
Sly turns on the morning talk radio as the autopilot sneaks him into the nearly nonexistent morning traffic.
He didn’t have much cash left, but he considered stopping at a stuffer shack on the way to his appointment. Real ™ coffee would be nice… and he really should get a throw-down comlink his creditors didn’t have the number for.

Quote
Leaving most of the heavy weapons (laser pistols, swords, and the chainsaw); in the van. I'll be taking in the crossbow, because it's sneaky, and dis-assembled it looks like a bad-ass bracelet. The armor vest is also worn, as it's more or less part of the uniform, and he is getting ready to work.
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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #3 on: November 21, 2011, 11:27:33 AM »

"You can't have a belt feed without the belt, Meadow..." 
"I know that, Grimshaw, I have every intention of buying the belt but not that piece of dross.  Get a good one and I'll buy it...and for using that name you just cost yourself 10% on the rest of this stuff."
"Ah, Me...."
"Say it again, and I'll knock you on your ass."
Grimshaw sighed around the faint smile he was hiding.  "Okay, okay..." the pair struck the deal and the woman strapped everything into an military courier pouch and slung it across her shoulders.  The 10% savings she had demanded would be more than enough to get her some grub on the way home, she realized she hadn't eaten for ten or more hours.
She left Grimshaw's hole in the wall the pink and white strands of her hair caught the garish neon, and reflected it back, while the black, blue and purple seemed to absorb the light, it gave her on odd fiber optic look.
She glanced about, checking for threats, she had had taught herself to do so after getting too caught up in her thoughts in the past had gotten her a thorough beating, she still sported a split eyebrow as a souvenir.  She rubbed at said eyebrow absently, and tried to figure how far she was from food.  She headed down the street, she seemed to recall there was something....
The harsh aura of light which typically surrounded urban Shacks pulsed a few blocks to the west.  She made a face, but night owls couldn't necessarily be all that picky, late night grazing was fairly limited in scope.  She adjusted her bag and started walking.

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kv

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #4 on: December 03, 2011, 03:53:38 PM »


Every Stuffer Shack looks just the same, exactly like every other- a handy design gimmick from your friends at Aztechnology (Your Friends in the Business... TM).
These places in Denver are exactly the same as the ones in Seattle, or in New York, or any other hole that needs 24-hour coffee and sim supply. You could walk the isles of any Stuffer Shack blindfolded, and if it wasn't for the shoddy matrix connection to this place, probably caused by local hackers stealing signal, you would just order from home and have a drone deliver it to your dive. Hell, given the amount of nuyen you've dropped into this place, you should probably own stock.

The sky is gray with clouds, lit by the street lights of the city. The air is cold and crisp, with that bite you really only get in the mile high city. The snow is caught in little flurries of wind, gathering on the pack that barely melted from the sun yesterday. You wipe your nose and push through it, looking forward to the lukewarm reception at the store; anything is better than freezing in the street.

The parking lot in front of the store is almost completely empty- a Ford Americar with a broken window is parked crooked on the Handicapped spot directly in front of the store. You snicker at the broken window; Denver's weather of choice this season, snow, is unforgiving to car interiors, even synthetic ones. Anyone who's ever smelled rotting synth-pleather is not eager to repeat the experience. There's a ten year old Honda Spirit that could probably use three new tires, parked in the 'employee reserved' parking spot with half a foot of snow piled on top of it. Someone is making the big nuyen. </sarcastic smiley emoticon>

As Eric approaches the front door of the Shack, the automated doors slide aside, and he's assaulted by a wave of AROs. "Welcome back to the Shack, Mister Dubois!" The cheerfully impersonated voice says. "It says here in our records that you recently purchased World of Shadowcraft! Were you aware that you can purchase in-game items using your credit account? Click here to link your credstick to the game!

There are AROs for Neil the Ork Barbarian, recently remade by Horizon; for Nutrisoy, all of your daily vitamins and minerals in one edibile package; For a bunraku sim you downloaded once as a teenager; For mixed drinks and hangover cures; for candies, sorted by your color preferences and past purchases.

Among the hail of messages, each items helpfully asks in a cheerful voice, "Was this item helpful to you?" Lemmings.

Off to your left, just on the other side of the credit transfer station, is a small 'fresh fruit' stand. You stand in front of the holographic representation of fruit in the display, drooling as he thought of the taste of grapes. Wouldn't it be great if Stuffer Shack sold stuff like that? Sadly, this is an ordering kiosk for straight-to-home delivery, where the voice narrates that "Estimated delivery would be in just __Error. >>Address unknown. >>File new address with Corporate office >>Address necessary to generate delivery estimate." A small screen pops up, where you can punch in your address, using street numbers or a GPS estimate.

As Sly enters the building, the LAN hits off his commlink, set to silent, and then defaults to the RFID in his fake liscense. "Welcome, Mister Dante Inferno!" The helpful voice chimes in, continuing "We show that you have never shopped here before, and we are grateful to have you as a new customer!" As you glance around, the layout of the store pops up in your display, although you don't really need it; nearby product on the shelves, identified by RFID tags, begin playing advertisements. The Horizon ads are the hardest to ignore- they're so hot that some groups claim they're psychotropic.

"Please, take a moment to fill out our customer satisfaction survey!" The jolly voice continues "We can notify you of incoming products that fit your requirements for diet and nutrition! Your feedback is very important to us!"

Half of the products that pop up in the AR window have ARO warnings that tell you these products have no nutritional value, or a (much smaller) warning that the products have passed their expiration dates. Each product has an ARO logo pop up, and the following drop-down menu: Purchase this item, Purchase this item online for home delivery, check local markets for pricing, and shop related items.

As a first time customer, a list of the 'freshest' products and a special one-time only discount pops up, advertising their most popular items.

Near the back of the store, there's the mecca of Stuffer Shack- the soykaf machine.
It warms up as you approach, like an old friend seeing you come in on the security scanner. AROs throw out a menu of possible drinks. Coffee with something called selective-serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, called "Happy Caffee" was the top seller this week, with new nicotine-added soykaf "Jittery Java" a close second. Beyond that were your Euro-vanilla roast, your basic "Black Kaf," and "Weak Sauce," the new re-branded decaf soykaf, for the extreme impaired.

The ork behind the counter, an overweight teenage guy with a bad complexion, ignores an equally unappealing dwarven girl chattering at him as she reads through her beauty magazine. The employee is reading through his Horizon SimStarlet guide, watching short clips as his eyes check the timestamp for the end of his shift.

Outside in the street, Sundance shivers against the cold, trudging through the snow and finally giving up and moving to the slush in the street. There's not much worse than walking in brown and yellow slush, but walking in knee-deep drifts of snow and refrozen ice make the list.
« Last Edit: December 03, 2011, 09:31:37 PM by Kid_Vid »
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"There are three rules to surviving a gun fight.
1) Shoot First
2) Shoot More
3) Shoot last
   If you can do that, you can survive."
                                 -Samus Bravo
                                (Mercury's Father)

Ruski

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #5 on: December 03, 2011, 06:47:22 PM »

Sylvester sighs as he gets pinged on his fake license.
Well, at least that’s better than two weeks ago when he was simply over-drawn on his telcom account, and not completely cut-off like he was now.

If he had to hear one more gingle about how he could get double-food-stamp rewards programs signed up for free, or yet another job offer because he apparently really needed the money so bad that he should work at a stuffer shack…

Another sigh escapes his lips when he realises that whatever bargain basement telcom unit he’s going to be able to afford on 300 newyen, even with his ‘first customer 2.5% discount’ is going to be loaded to the gills with marketing software that is going to take a hundred bucks for another back alley hacker to chop into it for an hour, making it into something useable…
That brings the price range down to the 200 newyen ‘pay as you go’ telcoms.
Hmm… this one has buttons instead of a UI. How… quaint?
Maybe this one… it’s hard-loaded with the ‘hello kitty’ theme?
Or: a supped-up deluxe model; set to only operate within 20 meteres of an Aztechnology LTG link… it comes with a heads-up map of locations you can log in, and the option to backpay a grand to unlock ‘roaming’…

Sly walks away from the display, clearly this decision needed to be made with a little help.  He pours himself a 20 OZ cup of the Euro-Vanilla. “Fagg-a-chino” as his friend William Dukenfield (Currently incarcerated in Seattle) would call it.
Will always was a cheerful slot. The trumped up charges had grabbed up most of his friends and co-workers who were at the office when the powers that be decided to ‘roll up the red carpet’ on them.
Glancing towards the news stand he looks to see if any of his company’s information is making headlines all the way down here… no… (closing his eyes) sometimes it’s better just not to know.

Sly walks back to the phones and starts to look at the Aztechnology proprietary phone… sipping his coffee he starts checking the map; how loaded with spyware could it be? The coverage wasn’t horrible… well, it was better than his current non-coverage…
”How much of this is psychotropic, and how much of it is just going to be ad-ware tracking my habbits?”
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Ingo Monk

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #6 on: December 05, 2011, 10:32:33 PM »

Eric frowns at the ARO bombardment.  He had almost forgotten how much the shacks annoyed him.  Still though, it was the only place open so his options were limited. 

Even though he knew where everything in the shack was, he always found himself wandering the aisles every time he came into one.  "Mmmm...apples..." he thought as he came upon the fresh fruit stand.  He pondered the fantasy of biting into a big juicy apple to drown out the AROs for a while.  Only a short while, as he eventually came back to his senses when some drool almost escaped from his lips.  After swallowing a mouthful of saliva, his senses returned and the ARO bombardment began again in earnest.  Nearing his acceptable limit, he heads over to the sim section and pretends to browse while he begins hacking into the shack systems.  He'd make the systems ignore his ID.  "What else..?" he thought.  He could turn off the computer voice, but that wouldn't be fun.  He could replace the voice with... "Neil."  Surely people would enjoy a muscle-bound Ork screaming at customers to buy Nutrisoy? 

After he leaves he'll need to erase any logs of his edits, or even presence.  He'd need something to do while enjoying his "...soy."
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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #7 on: December 06, 2011, 08:02:41 AM »

She glared at the garish horror that was the Shack.  Hungry as she was, she hated the intrusive toxic neon dumps.  She shivered in the cold, and stamped her feet.  An Americar sluiced into the slot in front of the door and a pair of teens jumped out in a big hurry, she slipped in with them, and moved to the back of the shop as they couple satisfied their consumerism with a  pack of interesting prophylactics and giggled out into the weather again. Leaving the rest of the customers to wait out the barrage of comparative prophylactic products and options touted throughout...too much of this and she'd seriously consider the emp toy she'd been dying to try out

She found the fruit, not a large selection, but she picked up a few clementines, expensive but worth it.  She moved over to the heat -n- eat section and perused the soy dogs, pseudo-pizza, and nocho-ettes.  Maybe she was hungry enough for one of each....
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kv

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #8 on: December 07, 2011, 07:23:36 PM »

((Layout of the Stuffer Shack))
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"There are three rules to surviving a gun fight.
1) Shoot First
2) Shoot More
3) Shoot last
   If you can do that, you can survive."
                                 -Samus Bravo
                                (Mercury's Father)

kv

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #9 on: December 07, 2011, 08:35:15 PM »

Sly finds himself wandering the SIM chip aisle (Aisle 9) after picking up his latte, grimly remembering his former coworkers. He avoids the screamsheet feed subscriptions, as well as the few magically-themed pornographic print magazines, for those without AR. Seriously, who chooses to live in a sad lifeless world like that?

Sipping his woodchip-flavored coffee, Sly makes his way toward the disposable phones, popular with Shadowrunners, although rumors said it was for different reasons.
The Aztech ‘Jai Alai’ phone seems like the best deal, but it’s sealed in one of those indestructible plastic sheaths that prevents you from testing it, turning it on, or even pinging it until you’ve paid an authorized retailer and perhaps registered the device with the local Aztechnology corporate office.

Eric wanders over to the Sim section, where there’s a worker-looking copainhanging out, looking at one of the corporate leashes, aka PAN connection. You briefly silence the mental tirade that anyone who can’t solder together their own communications equipment doesn’t really deserve to enjoy the Sixth-World.
Eric browses digital anarchy as his eyes are jabbed by points of light on the Sims display. A millisecond of attention maximizes an advert for Beauty and her Beasts, the tale of one elven girl who loves many trolls, buy now for rental or to own! Brought to you by those caring fraggers at Horizon Media Corporation!
Quote
Hacking on the Fly is a Hacking (5) + Exploit (4) Test. I’ll give you the +2 dice bonus for this test, but Codeslinger is only supposed to apply for one Matrix action, so you’ll need to choose one; Options are: Hacking, Spoofing, and Cybercombat.

The threshold to connect to the Stuffer Shack through the system Firewall is 2, +3 (to 5) for Superuser account, +6 (to 8) for Admin access. Refer to pg 235 of SR4 – Anniversary Edition for details.
Sundance hears the chime of the doors, and the waves of ARO wash over her. Luckily, the store has trouble keeping track of the SINless, so as she stomps the snow off of her boots and avoids the couple touching and slobbering all over each other as they wander past the marital aids to the pet food aisle, where they set up a sloppy display of affection.

Wandering to the back of the store, Sundance finds some packaged ‘fresh fruits,’ radiated to prevent spoilage, although the health warnings say some consumer groups warn that these products increase your risks of cancer.

Sundance can even see the AROs asking if they’re interested in alcohol, prophylactics, or local hourly motel pricings.

There’s a human dweeb holding a jar of pickles and looking through ice cream flavors, although he quickly pushes the lids back down when he notices you looking, and goes back to ‘reading labels’- he’s not fooling anyone, that gross fragger is sticking his fingers in the ice cream.
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"There are three rules to surviving a gun fight.
1) Shoot First
2) Shoot More
3) Shoot last
   If you can do that, you can survive."
                                 -Samus Bravo
                                (Mercury's Father)

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #10 on: December 10, 2011, 04:12:49 PM »

Pulling up on the Evo and pulling up to the refueling pump.  Hooking the hose up to the fuel tank.  Taking off the bike helmet and undoing the jacket to his bike suit.  Kneeling down checking to make sure his Colt is still clipped to it's hiding spot.  Another successful quiet night at the strip club as part of the security.  Kinsey didn't like advertising his magical aptitude but it paid the bills.  Nice lil payday enough to cover fuel, groceries, and even a little mad money for snacks and sims.

Walking towards the doors thinking that a Karl Kombatmage marathon was in order.  Assensing people coming into a strip club needs a good scrubbing of something completely mindless.  "Mmmm sims, pseudo-pizza, and beer....."
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kv

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #11 on: December 12, 2011, 08:36:10 PM »



As Kinsey enters the store, the pre-fab voice blathers about the latest deals, and how he can save by using the special 'order from home' option to avoid that pesky 9% UCAS sales tax.

There's an orc behind the counter, looking through an ARO. There's a skinny elf in red duds looking at cheap commlinks. There's a couple participating in sloppy makeouts on the pet food aisle, and an elf chick with six different colors in her hear wandering toward the nuke-em station. There are a few other people in the store, wandering around back by the freezer, but they're not readily apparent.
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Ruski

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #12 on: December 13, 2011, 07:09:42 AM »

Sly will be slightly frustrated by the requirements of a masters degree in engineering that is required to pick out a comlink that doesn't totally suck.

he will look at the guy behind the counter doing his best to pretend the world dosn't exsist, and then glance at the couple making out and interested only in pushing the line between soft-core and public indecency.

Sly will ask the store in general, before turning to the most recent entry into the shack.
"Anyone know anything about comlinks? I've got a hundred bucks here for anyone with the software and skills who can help me hack one of these into something remotely usable."

Turning to Kinsey as he is the most sane looking person in the closest vicinity Sly will continue his sad public plea
"How about you buddy, know anything about hacking comlinks?"
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6 X 9 = 42

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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #13 on: December 15, 2011, 07:44:31 AM »

Startled from his revelry acknowledges his AR messaging.  "Nope, not a clue friend know nothing about commlinks and fixing all their problems." Moves on down the aisle marking selections from the online shopping so that I can keep an eye on the total.  The entire run of Karl Kombatmage remastered and the new TNG series to date, a 12 pack of beer, 2 pseudo-pepperoni pizzas, and the gas for the bike.  "Though I will say if you buy a bike in Denver, spring for the tracked model like I did.  I just plow through the ice and snow."  Puts that out on the Stuffer Shack network for any to read.  Begins checking his messages on his commlink for any work from anybody else.  Of course if the guy had asked if he knew how to throw a lightning bolt he would not of said yes to that either.  Kinsey didn't like that he had 'the Talent'.  He didn't want it didn't like it and rarely advertised that he had it.  He preferred the cool grip of his Predator or Beretta to the ability to blast a building in half with a thought.
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Re: Back to the Shack
« Reply #14 on: December 15, 2011, 08:33:34 PM »

Eric perks up upon hearing about trouble with commlinks.  "An extra bit of money might be worth the few minutes of time" he thought to himself.  After finishing up with the Shack's network he heads over to Sly.  "Hey chum, I might be able to help you with that" he says while gesturing to the commlinks.
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