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Gun Jam posted:We need a bigger gun! Mostly I'm interested in having a culmination of many major choices and results. The Blake Island crew doesn't have to ally with any of them. I'm not even going to say that the anti-racist coalition is going to be explicitly good, though they're probably the people the thread would be most comfortable with winning as that's where the choices have been going. It's a coalition and therefore made up of a ton of different factions who have a ton of different ideas. There are going to be some shitheads and opportunists in any political movement. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 03:11 on Jul 31, 2018 |
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Jul 31, 2018 03:09
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Gun Jam posted:We need a bigger gun! Racists are obviously The Enemy, cops are... well, make your own call but my secondary username is literally Captain ACAB so make of that what you will, and ARC are The Good Guys. And with order totally collapsing as the cops are stretched to breaking, yeah, the militias are almost definitely going to get galvanized. They were in this instance, at least, and that probably won't change. Things are rapidly spiraling out of control and we have neither the resources nor, likely, the inclination to help the cops restore order so it's time to pick a black bloc and get to work. E: Should probably refresh before posting to see if the OP's beaten me 
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Jul 31, 2018 03:30
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Please rename ARC to NeoAntifa thanks
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Jul 31, 2018 04:05
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CourValant posted:Is this a real Shadowrun thing or Author Fiat? A way is a Shadowrun thing. The specific way he's talking about was created by me. A way allows an adept to stuff more magic inside of themselves, they get a magic skill from their way that reflects their focus (for most of them anyway) and they get a discount on making certain kinds of focuses. Marcus isn't superhuman, but he's aiming to be physically peak human. That's a sacrifice if you're min-maxing, but the skill I gave him makes up for it. So imagine the physical skills of peak Olympic athletes and he's working towards that. Normal humans are normally limited to a natural of 6 dice in pretty much all stats save for luck. Marcus can get 7 in body, strength, agility and reflexes, though he's nowhere near that yet and is closer to a 5 in pretty much everything which is still pretty good. So he's not going to be able to lift a car like a peak level troll or catch a bullet with his hands or whatever, but he'd have the physical condition of all peak level athletes if he ever completes his training. That said, he doesn't have the skills of those Olympic athletes, just the conditioning, but also augmented by magic so that it makes sense that he could medal at weight lifting and gymnastics both someday despite those two events requiring wildly different conditioning. Not that the Olympics exist in SR anymore. Just using that as an example. Marcus is someone who is good at everything physical, but not great at much. Maybe in a few years once he's fully developed his new way he'll make something truly great of himself and with a ton of control over a peak level body he'll be able to go far. Fuzzy on the other hand has 4's and 5's in her stats with the exception of reflexes which is at a 7 due to her magic and a logic of 2, but some of her skills are much more developed due to needing to carve out a niche for herself as a huntress in a harsh environment. Then you take someone like Sasha who is not purpose built for her role as a shaman. I built her like a normal person. She's pretty weak in terms of strength for instance and she's mildly clumsy in terms of agility, but she's crazy smart. As smart as Julie in fact, and she'll end up smarter. Once she grows into her own she'll be split between her shaman powers and decker powers, and be pretty decent at both. quote:Said it before and I’ll say it again, you do characters very well, Ice. Thank you.  I will say that you got part of their dynamic, but not all of it. Remember that I also introduced them with Krupa on Joyce's back in a happy, unguarded moment. That was intentional. Joyce definitely wants to be mediator and he's definitely a noble, but he's also a young man who is growing up in a strange place while also conforming to the role he was born into. So in those quiet moments, he's staid and stable. Krupa on the other hand is more wild and caring. And unlike many arranged marriages, I want them to love one another, but also talk about that as something that is perceived as rare. I'd also say that initially Krupa cares because Joyce cares, but now that she cares about Kenji she really cares. She has agency and can care about things on her own, but Kenji specifically avoided them for a reason I briefly touched on and will get more into later. I'm trying to paint Krupa as someone naive, trying to conform but also living her convictions. Being against bullies should go against what the nobility are, because they're a class of people who are born into power that they rarely earn and use violence both explicit and implied to stay there. However, Joyce is about peace and peace is good, right? But she may not get that said peace is coercive. I'm trying to paint her as someone who wasn't just pledged to marry Joyce, but she actually believes in what he's doing. She's not dumb, she's not smart, in fact I'd say her best qualities are that she's a good person who is brave, but her worst quality is that she's horribly naive and does a lot of accidental condescending in her attempts to be good and connect with people. She's an average young woman who is living her convictions, which is admirable, but she gets in her own way. Joyce's devotion to peace, even if that's top down, is something that produces results that she agrees with. So she's quiet and demure while he's talking because she feels like she has nothing to add, but if he bullies someone into "peace" then she'll definitely disapprove. I'm interested in Joyce seeking peace, but a sort of authoritarian, daddy knows best, top down, negative peace. It can work out, but I personally believe that peace works best when it comes from mutual agreement from all parties, not handed down from above. He arranged the meeting with Kenji under false pretenses, didn't consult with him and used the small threat of involving the teachers. He used authority and deception to get his way in order to get Kenji and Clarissa to talk to one another. It's why Kenji reacts negatively. He got pushed around, even if being pushed seemingly benefited him, it also threatened his reputation as someone independent, capable and confident, which is his main defense against getting pushed around by other students. That said, I want them to think they're both doing the right thing. Krupa genuinely doesn't understand why Kenji doesn't want Joyce's help. Joyce understands, but is offended. Both of them have been transported from lives of privilege to...More privilege. Kenji might be the first person Joyce and Krupa have ever talked to who wasn't born into privilege that is a sort of peer and not a servant. Remember that they're both young, they're from a culture where people are regularly pushed around and they've landed in a corporate culture which is used to that as well. In many cases I also want them to produce results, but they come an authoritarian nation that contains a rigid hierarchy. So I want those interactions and results to feel loaded with small negative class based distinctions that they're probably so deep into that they're not aware of what they're doing. Krupa is a saint from paradise (at least for her race), where being good wasn't challenging unless she went way out of her way to do it. Joyce is a young noble who has never had someone "beneath" him talk to him in such a familiar way, even if Kenji is his peer and at least in terms of skills, his better. Anyway, this is me talking about class in a nuanced way. These aren't two rich young nobles who tell their carriage driver to horsewhip the poor for daring to get in their way. Instead they're helpful and even potentially likable. But they're also incredibly condescending at times. quote:Fantastic transition; I forgot where I read it, one of my favorite turns in a novel goes something along the lines of, “ . . . I never heard her reply, because in that precise moment, the skies themselves opened up, and the heavens began to fall . . .” That sort of transition is pretty standard. I'm glad that I got my timing right though. Gun Jam posted:Anything besides that on the joint that we could know? While it could be "we just need a target" kind of terrorism, there's a chance it's personal - could help narrow down. May be less relevant to a bunch of schoolkids, but. I'm going to get into it in the next few updates. It's coming. Deadmeat5150 posted:Just as a note for spirit possession, another spellslinger can manabolt a spirit out of the body its possessing. You know, I forgot about that completely. So yeah, Julie's manabolt spell might be good for something someday. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 11:44 on Jul 31, 2018 |
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Jul 31, 2018 11:20
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I really like Joyce's character so far, he's certainly different to the rest of the crew. I like that you haven't gone crazy with the whole fascism thing too, I think most of the aristocrats I've met would be generally agreeable to fascism, but that doesn't mean that they're bad people, it's just a side effect of being a landowner; keeping order becomes important when you hear about lots of scary news stories from outside your little plot of land, and you want to protect people from it. It's really easy to paint authoritarians as inherantly bad people, it's cool that Joyce and Krupa are more nuanced than that. Dove reminds me of the god Gark in Glorantha, who turns his followers into zombies in order to take away their will and thus their opportunities to engage in non-peaceful activity: "He removes all the troubles of existence. He will make all decisions for you, take care of your every need, and ensure an eternity of peace". I'm not sure if it's that extreme, but it's a similar 'peace above all else' kind of attitude.
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Jul 31, 2018 14:16
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Chatrapati posted:I really like Joyce's character so far, he's certainly different to the rest of the crew. Yeah, authoritarianism and fascism in the short term often don't change how people lead their day to day lives. It's a slow bleed. Fascists and authoritarians tend to go for small grabs for power, but do so over and over again. A nibble here, a bite there. It almost never happens that everything bad happens at once. Otherwise people would resist and especially in those early stages any solid resistance is incredibly effective. I don't go for the both sides narrative as that's nonsense, but I know that people are more nuanced than their politics. It is entirely possible to get along with someone but despise their politics and then them as soon as they open up their mouths, and often rightly so. The guy who loves to barbecue and you love to barbecue one day tells you that the world would be a lot better without those people across the street because they're the "wrong color" and have you heard of cultural marxism? And suddenly the guy who barbecues you suddenly realize is a piece of poo poo. Or their understanding of politics is so shallow that it barely effects their lives, but barely think as they'll pull the lever for the type of people who will take time out of their busy schedule of dicking you over to dick you over even harder. Joyce is a young noble. Prideful, arrogant and reserved, but as far as nobles go he's probably one of the better ones as he's prone to forgive due to Dove's influence. Though unearned privilege is wrong, so imagine me saying "better" in air quotes. I will say on a long enough timeline that your average aristocrat may not be a bad person, but they're hooked into a system where they can be awful to everyone on a mass scale and that's the nature of the beast. See corporations. Sue from accounting isn't a bad person, but because her company is a chocolate company they definitely use child slave labor. On the other hand, aristocrats are often unaccountable enough that they can do whatever they like to those beneath them, legal or not. And their abuses become extreme.
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Jul 31, 2018 15:15
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Ice Phisherman posted:She's an average young woman who is living her convictions, which is admirable, but she gets in her own way. I think you just described my 'dating pool' over the last 20 years. 
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Jul 31, 2018 19:33
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CourValant posted:I think you just described my 'dating pool' over the last 20 years. Nothing wrong with being average though if you want better than average I'll tell you what worked for me. Personally, when I found my dating pool not to my liking, I worked on myself. I explored my hobbies, got in shape, asked people about my weak spots and what I could do to improve. Brutally honest stuff that probably will offend, but good advice that hurts often exposes weak spots. Not just physical or emotional stuff too, but social stuff that might make people give me a pass as I believe that shared values make for the longest relationships. I didn't try to date more people. I worked on myself and the quality of people who were interested in me began to rise when I began to date again. If there was anything I learned from writing romance novels, it's that women are sort of primed to love men who follow their passions. Not because all women are inherently the same, because neither men nor women are a monolith, but a lot of the literature that women consume (romance) revolves around making the man in the story passionate about something. Romance is lousy with "passionate men". Doesn't matter what it is in the stories. It could be working on his motorcycle or woodworking or farming or making pastries or raising goats. It gets really dumb sometimes what the man's passion is sometimes. Being passionate about stuff is something that will often score points because the alternative is that you really like watching netflix and video games and laying on the couch at the end of the day. I sort of liken TV and vidja games only to being the human equivalent of a boneless chicken. A lot of "self help" books will confirm your biases meaning they'll tell you that it's not your fault, but the fault of everyone else. That you need to be more "macho" and that the way to win women over is to emotionally abuse them. See the evolution of the pickup artist culture. Often they're really awful to your chosen sex. Straight men's "self help" books and the cultures surrounding them are especially awful in this regard as they're increasingly telling them whatever they want to hear in order to rake in that money and normalize misogyny. Personally, I see the end results of those cultures where sex is prized, emotional intimacy is shunned and no one gets to have any sex because they're a bunch of jerks. See the incel culture. They're profoundly awful and normalize misogyny by preying on insecure men. I lost about sixty pounds at my lowest (though I've gained some back) and on my runs and walks when I was healthier I started getting catcalls from women as I didn't hit the gym as much as I hit the pavement because I liked being outside. I felt attractive, it felt good and it had a positive feedback loop which got me even more attention. I also started losing my hair, but gently caress it, I just buzzed it down. Short hair don't care. I lifted weights and my body turned from something pear shaped to the shape of an in-shape, healthy man in his early thirties. I wrote for a living for a while and people were super interested in that because my job was interesting. Many women especially loved creative types, though some guys were interested too. So when I'd date people would ask me what I was passionate about, and I'd tell them that I enjoyed working out and writing. People are choosy about who they date since the vast majority of people only date one person. If you're not satisfied with average, work on yourself. It's hard to do and it takes time and the results may not be immediate or give you exactly what you want, but it will improve your prospects. If anything, I think that this is growing more important in a culture that increasingly focuses on the surface level. People are deep into their smartphones and if you want to get laid, you swipe left or right. As someone who hates smartphones, I find that I have to work hard to be interesting while meeting people out in the world. Paid for by the committee for giving people unasked for advice. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 03:26 on Aug 1, 2018 |
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Aug 1, 2018 02:21
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Kenji, Jayvon, Joyce and Coach Bolt - Tuesday, July 23, 2075 - Evening - Blake Island Kenji's mind raced as he thought of what to do. A year ago he would've shrugged his shoulders and looked away. He probably didn't know any of the people who'd been killed. If they died his life would go on with barely an interruption, but despite himself, he liked Krupa. Yes, he'd only really spoken to her at length a few hours ago. Yes, she was naive and her good things in a good way speech had been somewhat patronizing. She seemed like a decent person though. She'd rushed into a place that would give a naive person like her nightmares without a second thought and helped people. Despite the fact that she wasn't perfect, she was a decent person who was begging for help and that made Kenji pause to consider what he'd do. Edward's rules had been the only moral compass that he'd had for his entire life up until last summer and he realized that he had the freedom to choose what to do with his life save for the sole exception of anything that would harm his pack. He could help or not help, or at least try. That choice scared him a little, because he didn't immediately know what to do. His destiny was largely his own now. As he checked with his gut he realized that he still didn't care much about those people that had been killed and injured, but he would care if he walked away from Krupa while he could do something. What he didn't realize was the lack of a thought that up until recently had been reflexive. He didn't think about how to exploit the situation to his advantage. Though why he didn't was something he'd have to ponder over later. "Coach Bolt," began Kenji. "No," responded Coach Bolt, automatically, "Walk." "But..." continued Kenji. Coach Bolt wheeled on him. He was half a foot shorter than Kenji, but the barrel of a man was still intimidating despite his size. "Unless it has to do with getting to the lunch room for a lock down the answer is no!" shouted Coach Bolt, "My responsibility is to you, not them! No more projecting, no more spirits, no spells, no cowboy poo poo! Walk!" Face turned down, Kenji smelled the older teacher's chewing tobacco on his breath and felt flecks of spit hit his face. It went against Kenji's sense of propriety to shout back, at least in this place where he'd carefully cultivated a reputation of being inoffensive, aloof, and useful, but he found himself doing just that. Kenji had been a guide and team leader for dozens of delves into the ACHE sub-basement where a bad death was a job hazard. He knew how to shout and be shouted at without losing. "I don't want to cowboy up!" he roared, "I've got an idea right now and all I need is phone that can contact the outside!" Unused to being challenged in his own domain, Coach Bolt squared up with Kenji. Shouts, curses, snarls and wild gesticulations were exchanged for a full fifteen seconds between the student and the teacher, each at the top of their lungs and raised to their full height. A fat vein bulged on the older man's forehead and his face had turned a violent shade of red. In a small break between the shouts as they drew breath for more, they could both hear Krupa as she began to sob. This gave of them pause. Neither of them relaxed, but the sound of her pain and anguish made them stop trying to shout one another down. "Ten seconds to make my case," said Kenji, quickly, his voice quiet, "If you don't like it I'll do what you say." Coach Bolt looked like he could breath fire and exhale smoke. The vein in his head still throbbed and the angry shade of red hadn't left his face, but Jonathan Bolt was a man who used his anger. It was rare that he would be used by it. Otherwise he wouldn't be effective at his job. Kenji stared downwards into the too blue, artificial eyes of the older man as he took a few seconds to make his decision. "Talk," he growled, "Ten seconds." With no preparation, Kenji launched himself into his barely formed scheme. "HTRT will be making an entrance in a few minutes to save any high value targets," said Kenji, quietly, "Jayvon told me that his dad trains HTRT. They're going to want to know about the microwire because if there's another bomb like he said there might be, it'll shred the entire team even if they're using military grade armor and everyone they're trying to rescue. We use that as a foot in the door and make our case to help. They're the professionals. We coordinate with them or at least bargain with them to get trauma patches on the worst wounded so they don't all bleed to death while waiting for help because they're only going to rescue anyone with top of the line insurance. Everyone else has to wait." That had been more than ten seconds, but the fact that Coach Bolt hadn't immediately cut him off gave him hope. "No cowboy stuff," pleaded Kenji, "We give CrashCart badly needed information and options. They choose what to do with it and the staff decides if they want to help. There's no risk in talking." A few more seconds of deliberation and the teacher nodded. Without looking to Jayvon, he barked out a question. "Williams!" shouted Coach Bolt. "Sir!" called back, Jayvon. "Can you do what Nokamura here claims you can do?" he growled. "Possibly sir," replied Jayvon. "Well hobble over to the emergency phone as quick as you can. You make a call and then we'll leave," Coach Bolt snapped off. "Yes sir," said Jayvon. Coach Bolt pointed towards a blue light in the near dark where the nearest emergency phone was. Jayvon rushed as fast as his crutches and barely functioning cybernetic body could carry him. Krupa and Joyce followed from behind, but they moved slowly as she had completely broken down into heart-wrenching sobs, which followed the three as they proceeded towards the emergency phone some twenty feet away. The old style landline phone which was nestled in a metal box was at a height for Jayvon to reach, though just barely. Coach Bolt picked up the phone and dialed a number which he concealed with his body. Jayvon pulled his commlink out of his pocket to confirm the emergency number for his father, which he called out while Coach Bolt dialed. "Hold the phone up to my ear," said Jayvon. Coach Bolt did so and Jayvon pinned it against his shoulder with his head. There was a pause and to Jayvon's shock, someone picked up. He immediately began to talk. From the angry look on Jayvon's face, Kenji figured it wasn't his father. "This is Jayvon Williams. My father is Darius Williams, who is an HTRT trainer," said Jayvon, his voice full of authority, "Is an HTRT squad going into the building that just blew up?" He nodded his head as the voice replied. "Okay," he continued," "I have information that needs to reach the HTRT squad immediately or they may die. Put me on with my father right now." Jayvon paused and scowled as a voice on the other end responded hesitantly. "No I will not hold," snapped Jayvon, "Stop dicking me around. I've been training to do this job since I was six. I know what I'm talking about so I poo poo bigger than you. Hard transfer me to my father right now or I'll have a review board crucify your rear end." Despite his harsh words, Jayvon looked nervous, but steeled himself as he got an appreciative nod from Coach Bolt. Jayvon set his jaw and his nostrils flared as someone new spoke angrily through the line. "Dad, just listen," said Jayvon, and nervousness crept into his voice, "The building that just blew up is covered in microwire and there might be a second microwire bomb. It'll shred through our normal body armor and endanger any clients it touches. You're going to need the hard covers...Yeah. Yeah I'm sure...Good. Look, that school you sent me to? We've got shamans on site that can render aid and we're not far away...We...No, not students. Teachers that can drop some bound spirits that can heal. I can put you in contact with..." Jayvon paused as Kenji tried to strain his ears for the response. The phone was muffled against Jayvon's head though and so he heard nothing. Jayvon looked at Kenji and shook his head. Krupa buried her head against Joyce's chest and clutched at his school uniform. Her shoulders shook from her muffles cries. "All right, look, can you at least...I don't know, drop some trauma patches on the people who look like they're going to bleed out before the team leaves?" implored Jayvon, "It's going to look bad on CrashCart if a bunch of people on gold memberships die but only the platinums get medevaced out. It's bad for the bottom line." Jayvon sighed and gave a half-hearted thumbs up, which shook slightly. Kenji heard the muffled voice of his father through the phone, his voice hurried. "Right. I'll explain how I know later. Hard covers and trauma patches on as many people as you can. Thank you. Just trying to make you..." he said, but halted. Jayvon carefully reached for the phone and grasped it with unsteady fingers. "...Proud of me," he murmured to no one. Jayvon looked down at the ground, but only for a second before he looked up at Kenji and Coach Bolt, who were nearest. He handed to phone to Kenji who hung it up the young dwarf awkwardly turned around with his crutches. "CrashCart and...Well..." he began, paused, sighed and started again, "CrashCart and DocWagon might be competitors, but HTRT talk to each other if they're both on site. The higher ups play politics with the guys on the ground and that gets people killed, so they work around them if they can. It's unofficial, but they're both in the same line of work and neither wants to mess with the other squad and get them or a client killed to screw with the competition's bottom line. High threat response teams are always in high demand so they can push back against some suit who's getting ideas about messing with a job for a bonus. With any luck they'll convince DocWagon HTRT to do what they're doing. They'll make a big show about hard covers and trauma patches. Maybe they do a copycat. Pretty much everyone is insured through CrashCart and Docwagon these days. Trauma patches for everyone who is insured. It'll keep them alive for an hour. It'll be an hour of agony if they're still conscious and the meds will do a number on their kidneys, but it'll buy them an hour. No evacuations for non-platinum members though. Probably no patches on anyone who isn't insured, but since there was an HTRT going in you're probably looking at rich folks who bought the farm. Let's hope there was no secondary bomb or the bomber sucks." "How long does it take to clear the place of a bomb?" asked Kenji. Jayvon shrugged and made sure his crutches were firmly placed underneath him. "Not sure," he said, gruffly, "CrashCart and DocWagon don't have many bomb squads. We specialize in getting people out of danger and patching them up. We mostly work with the local police departments for specialist stuff. Maybe Knight-Errant will do something right for once and trip over their dicks into a solution." Jayvon's face froze as he spied Joyce, who shot Jayvon a poisonous glare. Krupa didn't seem to notice. She stared stared hopefully at the dwarf with wide, wet eyes, her face no longer buried in her fiance's uniform. Her sobs were quiet now and just a little squeaky. "Apologies," drawled Jayvon, "I'm forgetting my manners. It could happen. A lot of ifs and buts. Better than nothing though. That's what I can offer." "Right," sighed Coach Bolt, "We're done here. Lock down time. Except you, Krupa. I suspect you saw some bad stuff so you're getting some emergency counseling. Joyce, keep her from falling asleep. She's going to want to after an adrenaline dump. Don't let her." Joyce's face smoothed as he looked at Coach Bolt. "What? Why?" asked Joyce, his tone confused. Coach Bolt absentmindedly patted his artificial leg before he responded. "Less chance of..." he began, and almost used another word, "Less chance of nightmares, if she talks out what she saw with a professional before she goes to bed. It won't be fun, but it beats the alternative by a long shot. Now let's go before you kids make the ulcer I'm going to get from this any bigger. Maybe I'll name it after you, Nokamura." All together, Kenji, Jayvon, Joyce, Krupa and Coach Bolt all walked together towards the lunch room. In the distance, the music at of the bonfire persisted, though no one would be left to hear it. The party that welcomed everyone to a new year school year at Blake Island finally ended. -- Rolled some stuff, but I don't want to post the results until everything I rolled is posted. I'm calling it here for tonight since it's late. Kenji receives 3 karma Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 13:13 on Aug 1, 2018 |
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Aug 1, 2018 08:05
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Coach Bolt just stepped in behind Mother Bear as Best Teacher. He talks like a coach should talk and it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to find out he's a former DI.
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Aug 1, 2018 10:10
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Kenji broke character and slipped into "shouting at party members on a run going south" mode, lol
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Aug 1, 2018 12:30
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I can tell Jayvon comes from a first responder household.
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Aug 1, 2018 16:08
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jagadaishio posted:I can tell Jayvon comes from a first responder household. Is it that he's carrying medical devices?
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Aug 1, 2018 19:52
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More that he was able to get pertinent information across quickly and have it recieved.
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Aug 1, 2018 20:25
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Ice Phisherman posted:Paid for by the committee for giving people unasked for advice.  No worries Forum Friend! Very much appreciate the effort you took in making that post, and, for the actionable feedback! Can confirm that after 4 years of working on myself, the process works! Having been on both sides of things (went from around 200lbs to 150lbs, and, got my head right as a result), I absolutely agree that being 'okay with you and being comfortable in your own skin' is the first step in achieving a meaningful relationship. Also, it does wonderful things for your posture and overall confidence to pop abs, ribs, and show that pelvic bone 'cut'. My only qualm is that no woman's catcalled me yet; my girlfriend doesn't like it when I bring that up. Ice Phisherman posted:Unused to being challenged in his own domain, Coach Bolt squared up with Kenji. Shouts, curses, snarls and wild gesticulations were exchanged for a full fifteen seconds between the student and the teacher, each at the top of their lungs and raised to their full height. This is worrisome, and, its going to make problems for us later.
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Aug 1, 2018 20:34
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Coach Bolt continues to prove himself to be a good character. Jayvon stole the show for me here though. We didn't get to hear his Dad's half of the conversation but it was very clear this was a Stand Up to Dad situation, and he did it without complaint. That's hard.
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Aug 1, 2018 20:51
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Cannon_Fodder posted:Is it that he's carrying medical devices? Deadmeat5150 posted:More that he was able to get pertinent information across quickly and have it recieved. It was the foul language and disdain for dispatch. 
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Aug 1, 2018 23:05
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Kenji, Clever, Min Yun, Mario, and Charlotte - In dreams - The ACHE Kenji came to as he often came to in the ACHE. In pain and greeted by sudden explosion of violence. Mario, his pops, screamed at the top of his lungs at him. One bony hand gripped Kenji's shirt and the other was pulled back into a fist which explained the pain that blossomed in Kenji's head and stomach. "Eating all my food," he snarled, "What, you think I'm made of money? I don't know why I let you hang around." His pops was a tall, bony, human Caucasian man with sunken brown eyes, long, greasy brown hair, a nose that was squat an crooked from being broken multiple times and a pale yet mottled complexion of an amphetamine addict. He flashed dirty, broken teeth at Kenji in a snarl and wore simple, shabby clothes called flats which had come out of a vending machine and been worn for far too long. He was the sort of person who was really only intimidating in numbers or to scared children. Kenji was twelve, or at least that's what he told anyone who asked. It must have been near the end of the month. Mario always got violent near the end of the month when the money for drugs and food, in that order, ran out. "Leave him alone," said Charlotte, "He's just a kid." The voice came out weak and distracted, but it did come out. Mario looked up to see Charlotte, his moms, who'd woken up from her place in her easy chair. Like Mario she was bone thin. Her pale skin had a slightly better complexion than his, though only in comparison. Her hair was long and black, though dull, her face narrow, eyes a dark brown, and she was otherwise petite, even for an elf. She was also high, that was obvious. If she weren't she'd be screaming instead of calm. The fact that she was high on bliss and raised her voice at all spoke to just how serious she was. The bliss, an opioid that people used to boost their mood and chemically escape their life in the ACHE kept her stable. Kenji reasoned that she must have had some extra of her stash ferreted away and hadn't run out yet despite Mario's searching. It was normal for moms to nod off in the midst of a conversation only to wake up seconds or minutes or hours later, so she always sounded sleepy, but sleepy meant happy. That she'd woken up and raised a voice at all was what kept Kenji from getting hit again. "Defending him?" spat Mario, "You always do this. I don't see you filling the fridge. Rent is due, the fridge is empty and this little poo poo is just playing games in his room. He's lucky I don't pawn his system." "Leave him alone," repeated Charlotte, quietly, "Or I'll kick you out again. Hands off. He's just a boy. Be gentle." It was Charlotte who had her name on the lease, for what that was worth. More importantly, she knew Clever and his boys who ran D block on the thirtieth floor. In her own way, Charlotte did love Mario which was why Kenji couldn't raise a hand against his pops. It's why he was always allowed to come back. Those were Edward's rules. He took delight in once seeing his adoptive father cowed and beaten by the gang that ran his block for selling drugs on their floor to kids, though he was forced by Edward's rules to try to interfere. For Mario, getting kicked out near garbage day was a serious concern. The toxic fumes from the trash fire could kill a person who was outside for too long or simply scar their lungs permanently if they were unlucky. Kenji knew that Mario wasn't well liked and that even in the ACHE, those that knew him would shut their doors to him. Those who weren't behind a door on garbage day almost always died. The idea of that happening filled Kenji with dread. He always felt awful if he came close to violating one of Edward's rules. Actually doing it was unthinkable. If Mario got killed, even if it wasn't by his own hand, he had no idea what would happen to him. "It's fine," said Kenji, "I'll find my own food." Mario looked at Kenji. Kenji licked his lips and tasted blood. His pops pondered if hitting him again was worth it and he eventually decided it wasn't. His face was a mask that concealed his impotent anger. Instead he let Kenji go with a small shove. "Good. Bring some back," said Mario, "I'm going to hit the bar." "I keep telling you. You don't have any money," said Charlotte, "The government check only goes so far." Mario didn't care. He headed out and showed his own frustration by slamming it. Charlotte sighed and beckoned Kenji over. Kenji obediently crossed over the scattered trash on the ancient, threadbare rug and accepted a hug. "He doesn't mean it," cooed Charlotte," He's just out of his medicine. Things get tight around the end of the month." Charlotte liked to put a smile on the everyday horror of life in the ACHE. Drugs were medicine. Getting a beating ended with her defending him and praising Mario's non-existent virtues. The sort that only a bliss addict could conjure up. Still, the hug felt good. "I stashed away some noodles," she whispered, "The kind with the dried veggies you like. Would you like that, Eddy?" A tiny knife drove through his heart. Though he accepted her affection, he wasn't Edward. He was Kenji. That was his scrounger name. He'd picked it out himself. Since his mom was Japanese, he'd picked a Japanese name for himself after realizing that he wasn't the only person in his body. So after long consideration, he'd chosen Kenji. It meant intelligent second son; strong and vigorous. It was his way of carving out an identity separate from Edward. His tiny act of rebellion. Kenji looked towards the door. "I'm going to go to Clever's and see if he has anything," said Kenji, "Thanks moms." Charlotte frowned at him for a second, but that concern was quickly papered over by the bliss. Then she smiled and nodded. "Okay, you go play with your cousin," she said, "Be home before dinner." Dinner that he'd have to find on his own, Kenji realized. He nodded, but didn't leave just yet. Instead he went into Edward's room. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was spotless save for the roach motels in the corners. There were fewer of the bugs in here at least. Kenji went to his airtight supply box that was cleverly hidden in the side of his ancient foam bed, pulled out the foam and retrieved his weapons: A battered old survival knife and his sub-machine gun, an equally battered Uzi that he used when he went into the Delve, though he very much preferred not to use it. He frowned and pawed at the box, as if the bullets that should be inside would magically appear, but they didn't. The empty magazines were there, but the bullets were all gone, including the ones inside of the gun itself. All that was left was the round in the chamber and a note. Kenji picked up the note that was hastily scrawled on a scrap piece of cardboard and read it. "Pawned the bullets for food. Go get more," was all it read, scrawled in Edward's childlike handwriting. Kenji stared in disbelief at the note. All of his bullets but one were gone. He scrounged in the hole in his mattress for at least a few more bullets, but none were there. All he had was one because Edward didn't know to check the chamber. Then his rage finally boiled over. "loving..." growled Kenji, and he began to yell, "Why?! Why do you do this to me?! What the gently caress is wrong with you?! I use bullets to get more bullets and food you dumb rear end!" Kenji allowed himself to rage in Edward's room for a while as he angrily kicked over ancient roach motels, but he was hungry and hurting so the rage didn't last long. He sat down on the bed and felt miserable. A tongue licked his face where Mario had hit Edward. He was surprised at first, but relaxed when he saw Clever's old fighting dog, who wagged his tail. The pain lessened by a few degrees as he smiled. The dog hadn't been there before which was odd, but Kenji just appreciated the company. He pet the dog for a while and felt just a little bit better. His face even hurt a little less though he'd gotten dog slobber on him. Then the dog jumped off the bed and nosed open the door since the doorknob had long ago been broken off. Now calm, he stuffed the boxy machine pistol into the back of his dirty jeans and strapped the knife to the underside of his forearm. At least Edward hadn't sold that. Then he donned Edward's overly large leather jacket, armored clothing, which was why he didn't get rid of that either and went back into the living room. Moms had nodded off and there was a smile on her face. She'd gone back to her drug addled dreams. Kenji unlocked what passed for locks on the door and locked up as he left. There were less junkies on the block than usual as he walked towards the central pit of the ACHE. Garbage day was coming up and that meant people were seeking refuge. There were a few junkies left, but he mostly saw them on other floors as he crossed near the edge of the open pit that held the ACHE's garbage. D block was a nice place. Junkies that couldn't work got hustled off. The smell of garbage was awful, but he would often use the smell to kill the hunger pangs since Edward would usually wake him up while hungry. So he lifted himself up on the concrete divider, breathed deep, gagged and suddenly he didn't feel hungry anymore. He navigated a few twists and turns before he came up on Clever's place, which served as the gang's house, drug distribution point and also where Clever farmed out scrounging and delving work, the last of which Kenji was interested in, though he was ill equipped. He approached the guards at the door, coughed up his Uzi and knife and went in. The room was just as he remembered it. Old couches lined the room, there was a table that could seat four for gambling. A couple women in loose fitting clothing with visible back tattoos laid down tiles in a game of Mahjong. Beyond that was a kitchen and a few doors to bedrooms. On the other side of the room was a table that contained BTL's, the better than life recorded experiences that were popular in the ACHE since it gave the illusion of escape. They were also highly addictive since one could fully pretend to be out of the ACHE and a different person with a great life, doing anything else than drugs, being anything else than a junkie and being anywhere else than in a slum hive. Clever's extended family worked at the small chips with soldering irons to make them single use so people would come back for more. Kenji was glad that Edward found his own escape in video games and not drugs. "Kenji," said Clever, "Hey little man. Haven't seen you in a while." Clever, his adoptive cousin, who was fond of his moms, wrapped Kenji in a brief hug. The gang leader's eyes and hands were obvious cyberware. They shone with polish and his eyes were chrome as well, though not solid chorme. They had tiny red cross hairs in them. He wore his frayed jeans and military camo coat like usual. The left side of his face was covered in electric blue nanowire tattoos, which helped distinguish him from the rest of his gang as he shaved his head and so did nearly all of the other men. "Hey," said Kenji, "Thought I'd come by and say hi." Clever held him at arm's length for a bit and squinted. His eyes flashed red in anger, which made Kenji uneasy. That often meant a fight or an argument. "Your pops hit you again?" asked Clever, darkly, "You're working on a real bad shiner right there." Kenji relaxed, looked away and shrugged. "It's fine," said Kenji, "I'm tough." Clever smirked and nodded appreciatively. "Hell yeah you are," said Clever, proudly. Clever said something in Hmong to one of the workers. From what little Kenji knew of the language, he told one of the workers to bring Kenji something. A woman about Clever's age did as instructed, pulled out a drink from a mini fridge and handed it to Clever. He took it graciously and pressed the cold can to Kenji's face. It hurt for a few seconds and Kenji briefly pulled away, but then without being asked he pressed back into the can, so Clever kept it there. Soon enough Kenji took over and he held the can to own his face. "Let's sit and chat," he said, "I've been wanting to talk to you. Check up on how you're doing." A few gang members sat up as Clever flicked his head. They stood up from the weapons they were cleaning and found another couch. Kenji really hadn't been doing anything. Edward called him when he needed him. To Kenji, life was nearly an endless set of beatings and meetings save for the terror of the delve. One day felt just like any other, even if they were often spread apart by months, not that Kenji thought of that as strange. "You know," said Kenji, evasively, "The usual." "Cool, cool," said Clever, "You know, half the time you come here it's beat up. You're a good earner even if you're not in the gang. I appreciate that. I mean I know your moms will be broken up about it, but I'll kill Mario for free. You just say the word. Garbage day is coming up. I could send a few boys to toss his rear end on the fire for you. Or maybe just stake him outside. You just say the word. No more beatings." Kenji was so tempted. Mario being out of his life would be amazing and the thought of him dead was better than the cold drink against his face. Still, moms cared about him, and one of Edward's rules was to protect moms and everyone she cared about. Kenji also couldn't lie, so he bought time with the drink as he thought about what to say. He cracked the top, sipped it and made a face as he realized it was beer. He didn't really like beer, especially on an empty stomach as it would give him a stomach ache, but his stomach already ached since Mario had hit Edward. He didn't care though. Calories were calories. "I'll let you know when I want him dead," said Kenji, "Right now no." Clever sighed and shrugged. He looked disappointed. "All right, whatever. Just let me know. I hate his rear end," complained Clever, "How's your moms?" "Same as usual," said Kenji, "She's high, so it's a good day. She offered to make me noodles. I sort of wished I'd eaten them." Clever turned his head said some more words in Hmong and the same woman put down her soldering iron yet again and went to the kitchen, though she shot Clever a glare, who shrugged and smiled. They had a quick back and forth exchange from the kitchen and a few of the men and women at the table laughed, though none of his gang did. They did however suppress smiles. "Can you believe the mouth on her?" joked Clever, now in English "Be careful or I'll marry you off to the fattest guy I know! You know the one! You'll be a wife to a pig in no time! Have a bunch of piglets!" Kenji grinned and now everyone laughed, which made Kenji feel a lot better. He alternated between holding the open beer to his face and sipping it. It didn't taste skunky like he remembered and he checked the can. To his surprise, this wasn't Otherweiss, the terrible tasting beer that the gang loved due how cheap it was. This was Clever's beer. The good beer, though he didn't know what the characters were on the front, but it was in a green bottle with a yellow label and not the plastic of the Otherweiss. "I see you finally noticed," said Clever, smugly. "Thank you," said Kenji, quietly pleased. "You know me," said Clever, "I'm big on hospitality. While you're here you're safe. Get some food in you, maybe a few beers to take the edge off though not too many. When you're ready we'll talk business since I know you're about that business, right?" "Right," agreed Kenji. Clever ruffled his hair and winked at him before he got back up to inspect the BTL's. Minutes later the woman came back with a Styrofoam bowl of noodles. It smelled so good. The broth smelled like beef and there were even bits of vegetables floating around in it. He broke apart his chopsticks and began to eat, but found an honest to goodness real life piece of meat inside. He marveled at it, looked to Clever, who wasn't paying attention and ate it slowly, savoring each bite even though it was thin and small. Clever's big, black fighting dog sat in front of Kenji and whined. Despite the fact that the dog probably ate better than he did most days, he still fed it a few scraps of beef from his hand, plucked out of the piping hot broth with his chopsticks. The dog licked his hand and left it slobbery, so Kenji balanced the plate in his lap and shared his bounty with the dog. After all, they were pack. Kenji paused as something felt strange for a moment, but shrugged and when the dog no longer got scraps he nuzzled Kenji once and walked to the kitchen. So Kenji had a quiet moment where he ate his noodles and drank his beer in his cousin's drug distribution house. Sometimes life sucked, in fact it often did, but Kenji could enjoy the little moments. Being twelve wasn't the worst thing in the world. Kenji had another bowl and another beer before he was done. He didn't even have to ask and this time there was even more beef than before which delighted him. His stomach was full, his head swam pleasantly from the alcohol and he barely remembered the aches and pains he'd received from his pops. He was still in pain, but the feeling of happiness was stronger than the pain and that was something. He noisily slurped the last of the beef broth and without any hesitation, licked the Styrofoam bowl clean just like he did the last one. Only then did Clever make his way back over. "You good?" he asked. Kenji nodded happily. "Good," said Clever, "Unless you want a girl." A few of the gang members snickered as color rushed to Kenji's face. Soon his face turned bright red all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. He made sure not look at Min Yun who played Mahjong with another woman. "Don't take it too seriously. I'm just messing with you," said Clever, "Maybe when you're a little older. Got to be a man first. You're just a little man right now. You've got to upgrade. So let's talk about something better than girls." Kenji wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked up at his older cousin. "What's better than girls?" asked Kenji. Even more laughter. Clever joined in this time and wrapped an arm around Kenji's shoulder. "Money," said Clever, his tone suddenly serious, "Remember that box of stuff you brought me three weeks ago? Well it turns out there was an artifact in it just rolling around at the bottom. Now anyone greedier than me would just take that money and not let you know, but I like you. I surround myself with people I like. I invest in them. You earn for me, I take my cut, you take yours and I take care of you. That's how it goes for everyone. I don't need to rob the people I like to keep my riches. Someday you're going to be down on your luck and out of riches, but if you have people you can rely on you'll never be poor. That's why you got to keep a good rep. Reputation is everything, remember that, Kenji." Kenji's eyes widened and he nodded. Artifacts were the whole reason that anyone went down into the Delve in the first place. For two years he'd been searching for one. Most of those artifacts had been cleared out of the upper floors and he'd made do with what he could scrounge on the upper levels where things were safer. Not safe, but safer. However, he'd been greedy and had gone deep. He'd been rewarded where so many others died when he picked up that box, though he had no idea that he'd picked up an artifact until now. He thought it was just full of old spools of copper wire. "So you play those games all of the time, right?" asked Clever, "You know, knights and magic and poo poo? You level up, buy new gear and go right back into the dungeon. How deep have you been into the Delve? What's the lowest?" "G level," said Kenji, automatically. Clever whistled appreciatively and nodded. "That makes sense. G is for gangster," said Clever, proudly, "Most of the scroungers don't go past D level. I can tell you're hungry and I don't want to see you get got. See, I think you've been a scrounger for way too long. I think it's time for you to be a delver. Now you don't got to, but it beats the hell out of well...Anything else. You could be trash picker, but that's no way for a man to live, even a little man. You'll make more money guiding teams instead of going down there by yourself. See with me, you've got credit now. Real nuyen, not just that scrap I buy. Not that it's bad, but that's peewee level stuff. Kid stuff. I want to kit you out, but you've got to upgrade first. I'll cash you out right here and now if you want to go, but this is an opportunity. You're better than a scrounger now. You know it, I know it and now you know I know it. A little boy upgrades into a man and that barely takes anything but time, but it takes something special to upgrade into a delver. I want to know if you think you're special."' Another one of Edward's rules was to make money. Kenji already made money, but he'd been left in a real bind. He was down to one bullet, a badly maintained Uzi, his knife, a gas mask and Edward's armor clothing. His gas mask even had a crack in it and he wasn't sure when that would break. He could cash out right now, but if that money made it to Edward he'd just spend it all. Or pops would smoke and drink it all and it would go into mom's veins. He'd already made the money, but it stood to reason that he could make more money if he had the right equipment. Plus deep down, he liked the idea of being special. He wanted Clever's approval. Min Yun's too, though only in his wildest dreams would she notice him as anything more than a kid. "Now I know what you're thinking," said Clever, "I get you some real food and a few beers. You're feeling all good. I'm not trying to fast talk you. If you want you can leave with your money right now. You want to go?" Kenji shook his head and he felt happy as Clever smiled in approval. "Good. See, this is a small taste of the life of a delver. Sort of like a shadowrunner," he explained, "You know about them, right?" "A shadowrunner, me?" gasped Kenji. "Yeah, you," said Clever, "They're specialist shadowrunners, but I work with them all the time. I mean you could pick trash and wait to get crushed. I remember seeing you crawl out of that life though. Tell me. Is that for you?" Kenji remember his first moments of trash, pain and fire. The struggle with the pedophile who'd helped him out of the garbage pit only to turn on him. Kenji had rammed a piece of scrap glass into his leg and that had been enough to impress Clever, who'd taken care of him, got Min Yun to heal him and found him a home. Kenji hated the idea of going back to the trash pile. Kids and adults who picked the trash were the poorest of the poor, because they could be crushed by falling debris at any time. The best spots were near the center where the least amount of trash fell or closest to the edge. Though sometimes people would specifically aim for the trash pickers to try to wound or kill them. So Kenji shook his head. Scrounging was his life, but delving piqued his interest. "You want to cash out?" asked Clever. Kenji shook his head again. "Want to be a delver?" he asked. Kenji nodded. Clever nodded back and reached out to the table that was full of guns. There he found a shiny, matte black sub-machine gun. He pulled back the bolt and checked the chamber to make sure it was unloaded, which it was. "Now I just got a shipment of AK's in. They're pretty popular. Drag it through the trash, bury it, treat it like crap and it'll still fire," began Clever, in his best salesman voice, "You're a little small for that though. Now this here isn't as reliable, but close. This is a Colt Cobra TZ-120. Favored of security forces everywhere. People give it some grief because it's cheap, but your main weapon needs to be reliable. Plus it comes with all sorts of bells and whistles and you can mod it however you like." Kenji watched in amazement as Clever handled the weapon like a pro. He pulled on the stock and it folded out. "You have a folding stock for short or long range work, a gas vent mark two to keep the recoil down for sustained fire, though I'll upgrade you to the mark three free of charge," said Clever, happily, "I got my hands on a few spares so it's no big deal. A present from me to you. You've got a laser sight on top and I can install a flashlight on the side. I'll let you choose between low light if you want since you're an elf or just a standard one, your choice. I'll put it on a sling so you don't have to keep it in the back of your pants. It's too big for that. I'll get you a real holster for your Uzi too. I don't want you accidentally blowing off a butt cheek." Kenji laughed and nodded, but that mirth faded as he reached for the gun at Clever's urging. Kenji held it reverently as Clever handed it to him. "But why I like it most is because it's got a forward assist," said Clever, "A lot of sub-machine guns don't have them. Tech isn't always reliable in the Delve. I could get you a smart link and it would do all sorts of neat stuff like tell you how many bullets you've got left, switch fire modes or drop a mag with a thought, but those need to be wired and that can tangle you up which can get problematic in a firefight. Anywhere else and you could go wireless, but wireless is bad news in the Delve. So you don't always know how many bullets you've got left. You go ahead and tap that forward assist right there. That red dot on the right side." Hesistantly, Kenji tapped it with his thumb. "Right, just like that," said Clever, "That way you can check to see if you've got a round in the chamber without making much of a sound or pulling back the bolt. It's called a stealth check. It's why I like the TZ-120. It's a good gun. Versatile and compact. You can switch from single shots, to burst fire to full auto with this switch here. The safety is on the trigger. I'll show you how that works later. It's got a thirty-two round magazine and I've got all sorts of bullets that are all sorts of different flavors. The kind you feed the ghouls bullets for breakfast and make sure they clean their plate if you understand me." Even in a dream, the Kenji of then pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. He wasn't then, but it almost woke him up. Clever's dog bounded onto the couch to sit next to Kenji and pressed against his side. "I'll kit you out with some armor too," said Clever, "Something light that you can move in. You won't be doing most of the fighting. Just guiding. Veteran delvers know to protect their guides. Otherwise they don't come back up. Now you're going to be working with some delvers I know, but I want you to go with someone you know." The dog's tail thumped against the couch as Clever called out to one of the women who played Mahjong, which meant they were gambling. Min Yun looked up and Kenji's heart skipped a beat. It was a rapid exchange in Hmong between her and Clever. She looked at Kenji, who gulped. She was a short woman with long, black hair, brown eyes and a pleasantly rounded body. Her face was cute, but her eyes and lips were set in hard lines. Kenji gulped again as they made eye contact. "You two are going to be working together," said Clever, "She used to do what you do. You might call her an upgraded delver." "What's that?" asked Kenji, quietly. "You should know," said Clever, "She's a shaman. She healed you up a few times. In fact she's a Dog shaman. Good people, Dog shamans. They're reliable and good at finding what you need. She'll back you up, but only if you back her up. Think you can do that?" Kenji nodded vigorously, but didn't take his eyes off her. She'd already gone back to her gambling. "Good," said Clever, "Now I want to get you familiar with the gun. I'm going to get you into a matrix program to learn the basics, but when you're good, we'll get some real range time..." Kenji's dream blurred into nothingness soon after that. Tucked away safely under the covers in his cabin, he smiled in his sleep. Kenji, Fuzzy and Mr. Markowitz - Friday, July 26th, 2075 - Early afternoon - Blake Island "So let's talk about the Owl Eyed Man," continued Mr. Markowitz. This was Kenji's second to last class for the week and he was ready for it to be over. Currently the class was in the midst of discussing the third chapter of The Great Gatsby, but his mind was anywhere else. Things had calmed down since the terrorist attack on The Grand Terrace, a high end restaurant that catered primarily to well to do elves. Kenji normally didn't involve himself in the news, but he did pay attention to rumors. Half of the student body were the children of rich elven parents and it had definitely struck a chord of fear with them, especially since the other half of the student body were human with the exceptions of Julie and Jayvon. Alamos 20,000 was a well known human supremacist terrorist group and they'd taken advantage of the chaos in Seattle to cut short the lives of people who would otherwise live comfortably for hundreds of years. "When he talks about the books, there's something important for some context," continued the teacher, "Printers, or people who made books, would make them in a series of folds rather than a bunch of sheets to save time and money. You had to use what was called a paper knife to pop open the book so you could read it. So the Owl Eyed man is marveling at these books, because every single one of them has been made ready to read. Let's talk about the significance of why he's called the Owl Eyed man. Fuzzy, I hear that you have an owl. Tell me about them." For her part, Fuzzy had done as he asked. She had read the book and understood some of the context. Not most of it, but enough to follow along most of the time. Her notes on her commlink filled in the gaps about what she didn't understand. "They're predators that mostly eat small rodents," said Fuzzy, warily. A few people in class laughed at that which made Fuzzy glower and blush. Mr. Markowitz smiled indulgently. "I suppose I earned that," he joked, "Sorry Fuzzy. Let's talk about owls in terms of stories. Ah, yes, Eve, thank you." The young, human woman lowered her hand. "In stories, owls are wise," she said, "So he's wise, right?" "Wise and observant," Mr. Markowitz said, "But not so wise as we'll see. Excellent. So let's continue with that thought. The Owl Eyed Man is surrounded by books and marvels at how they're all ready to be opened and read." "He's putting in more effort than he needs to," said Eve, "Other rich people don't put in the effort, but Gatsby does. It's seen as strange." Fuzzy knew owls to be observant, but she'd spent enough time around them to know that they certainly weren't wise. "Excellent," said Mr. Markowitz, his tone pleased, "He's putting in too much work. You might say that he doesn't fit in with the other rich." "He's new money," said Justin, disparagingly. Some people turned to look at him since he was in the back of the classroom. Neither Fuzzy nor Kenji liked the young elven man very much. "Yes he is," said Mr. Markowitz, "Very well, Justin, since you seem like you have something to say, talk about the party." "All right," said Justin, his tone bored, "He's you know...Supplying drinks and stuff even though it's illegal. He's some sort of...I think they called it a bumlegger?" "Close. It's bootlegger," said Mr. Markowitz, "Back when alcohol was illegal, people who transported alcohol would be called bootleggers." "Right, he seems pretty low," said Justin, dismissively, "Anyway, people show up and drink his stuff. Almost no one is actually invited. He's putting on airs and pretending to be better than he is for people that don't care. He's trying to fit in but he's doing it all wrong since no one even knows who he is. The narrator guy even talks to him by accident." "Okay, we'll talk more about why later, thank you Justin," said Mr. Markowitz, "Kenji, you look bored so I choose you. Why do you think he'd go to all of the trouble of having a party if he doesn't even engage with the guests?" Kenji shrugged in response. "Maybe he doesn't care about his reputation," said Kenji, disinterestedly, "Or he's using them." "Using them?" asked Mr. Markowitz, "That's an interesting line of thinking." "Kenji knows a lot about using the rich," snarked Justin, "Tell them, Kenji." More scattered laughter and giggles filled the room. Justin's remark was a deep cut, but Kenji didn't care much. Fuzzy glared at Justin though. "Yeah, sure," said Kenji, unphased, "They let themselves get used. The people at the party use and get used." "All right," continued Mr. Markowitz, "So what kind of man is Gatsby so far? We meet him in this chapter. So like Eve said, he doesn't fit in. He tries too hard. You might say that he's not familiar enough with the rich to be properly deceiving. He's doing illegal things by providing alcohol, but he doesn't even drink. People show up to his house but they don't even know him and Nick, our narrator, talks to him without realizing who he is at first. Like you said, it might be that he uses them. I might even go so far to say that he uses these rich party-goers not as people, but as props, just like the books, but he just doesn't know to do it convincingly. I want you all to think about what kind of man Gatsby is." Kenji thought about that. Then he backpedaled and tried not to think about that. Justin might make the occasional biting comment, but for some reason he didn't like Mr. Markowitz's line of thinking at all. -- Taking a break. I'll finish up the update tomorrow and we'll have the first choice of act two.r Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 20:42 on Aug 3, 2018 |
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Aug 2, 2018 04:05
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So in the discord something was raised. Should I edit out the finer parts of the gun stuff? I'm not sure if it really adds anything to the story or not. Should I keep it as is, abridge it or chop it altogether?
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Aug 2, 2018 10:03
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I'm not on the Discord but .. why would you abridge the guns? You've gone over other things in detail - not like we abridged Fuzzy's spear.
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Aug 2, 2018 10:59
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Abridge it. Gunporn is very Shadowrun, but it adds nothing to the story but flavor, and you’ve got plenty of that already. Consider chopping most of it out.
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Aug 2, 2018 11:06
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Personally I'm a fan of gunporn so I'd say keep it
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Aug 2, 2018 12:49
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I think it’s fine! The sudden timeskip was more disorienting than the fun stuff, and even that was fine.
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Aug 2, 2018 12:50
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Keep the gunporn, it says a lot that this is the sort of thing kenji remembers in his dream, what details of his past feel more vivid and real to him. It's also very Shadowrun, as it were.
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Aug 2, 2018 13:20
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I'll admit to realizing a paragraph wasn't going to be more than gun porn and skipping it.
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Aug 2, 2018 13:22
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Xarbala posted:Keep the gunporn, it says a lot that this is the sort of thing kenji remembers in his dream, what details of his past feel more vivid and real to him. It's also very Shadowrun, as it were.
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Aug 2, 2018 13:39
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Nah, keep it. The gunporn fits the character and the setting very well.
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Aug 2, 2018 13:39
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Gunporn just for the sake of it would be bad. But here it fits the the situation perfectly Clever is showing off just how much he's got access to, and the fact that Kenji remembered all those details reinforces just how well he knows his stuff. Which I think is good, since we haven't seen Kenji personally involved in any violent situations for a good long while.
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Aug 2, 2018 15:47
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My god I completely forgot about mum and dad. Really enjoyed that flashback.Ice Phisherman posted:So in the discord something was raised. Should I edit out the finer parts of the gun stuff? I'm not sure if it really adds anything to the story or not. Should I keep it as is, abridge it or chop it altogether?
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Aug 2, 2018 17:25
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If you're worried about pacing you could afford to trim talk about the non-APDS and types (since him having a surplus of that is good framing) and specifics like the grade of its gas vents. I like it, though, because its inclusion shows the personal effect of that gun on Kenji in contrast to how much time was spent on the beer he also received. It shows there meaningfulness to him at that stage in his life.
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Aug 2, 2018 17:38
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For what it's worth, I don't think the flashback puts Clever in a bad light at all. I mean the whole situation is obviously hosed up, but dude is (apparently) doing pretty good for those around him/that he's close to, and actively tries to maintain a sense of honor and fair play. More than you can say about most gangers in the ACHE, I imagine.
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Aug 2, 2018 18:12
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I liked it but agree with Jag, you could cut out the talking about different types of ammo - that segment didn't seem to flow quite so well to me. I thought it was a sweet scene, Clever is essentially Kenji's "big brother who's more like a father" and he's indulging in spoiling and showing off to him while also teaching him something about an essential tool of his trade.
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Aug 2, 2018 18:13
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Only slightly abridge the gun porn, it serves a purpose but drags a little.
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Aug 2, 2018 18:28
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ThatBasqueGuy posted:For what it's worth, I don't think the flashback puts Clever in a bad light at all. I mean the whole situation is obviously hosed up, but dude is (apparently) doing pretty good for those around him/that he's close to, and actively tries to maintain a sense of honor and fair play. More than you can say about most gangers in the ACHE, I imagine. Oh yeah Clever's not a bad dude at all. I mean obviously he's a drug dealing gangster who murders people, but that's just how the ACHE is. Not like you have many other career choices. Clever runs a tight ship on his turf, takes care of his people, and doesn't go in for the pointless cruelty and misery bullshit that some others do. He's a downright saint by ACHE gang leader standards.
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Aug 2, 2018 18:37
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I don't even like gunporn and the scene made me remember the time I got "the gun talk" in a good way. The scene does wonders for Clever and Kenji's relationship and a big part of that is the detail involved, so keep it. People can skip it if they really hate it, much like the reintroductions.
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Aug 2, 2018 18:49
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Ice Phisherman posted:So in the discord something was raised. Should I edit out the finer parts of the gun stuff? Keep the gun stuff; in these matters, I use the Supreme Court definition of 'porn', which is, 'I'll know it when I see it', and, I don't see the gun sections to be either egregious nor gratuitous. Clever is 'selling' Kenny in this scene, showing him the 'better life' of a good earner. The offer of food, booze, girls, rest, guns, etc., was all part of his pitch; its just that Kenny responded better to guns because 'he's all about that business', so Clever pressed that particular button harder. The gun talk served a purpose; it shows the dangerous nature of 'delving', it shows that Clever is a man of means in the ACHE, it shows that Clever is generous and fair to his people, and it shows that Clever knows his business.
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Aug 2, 2018 20:21
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Yeah I probably wouldn't have used the term "gunporn" if it hadn't already been used. I recognize it had a purpose other than to salivate over guns, which is a notion that a term like "gunporn" basically denies. I'm much more willing to believe that Kenji might think of Clever as Pack after this scene, and part of that is the knowledge that Kenji retained all of this information well enough to (Dog) dream about it, which highlights how important this all was to him. At the same time, I think its purpose might still be served by trimming it down some. Just my two cents though.
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Aug 2, 2018 20:30
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Dr Subterfuge posted:. . . (Dog) dream . . . kek
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Aug 2, 2018 21:02
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Keep it. I don't like gun porn, but I didn't really look at it as if it was some lurid detail. It felt more like an introduction to a tool in the Delver 101 course than a militant hard-on.
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Aug 2, 2018 21:12
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Keep it. It's more about Kenji and Cleaver, knowing/teaching. As far as gun PORN this is really mild, mostly on point about pluses or minuses
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Aug 3, 2018 00:35
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