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Xander77 posted:Are we saving the spirits and clothing interaction for the Botchcop update? Yeah, it struck me as more of a Botchcop move
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Apr 17, 2020 21:16
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Arist posted:Yeah, it struck me as more of a Botchcop move So I'd say both cops should use it, just with different results.
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Apr 17, 2020 21:47
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I wish Harry got to succeed at karaoke, it'd be a small win for him 
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Apr 18, 2020 02:12
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Just on that note, disulfiram/Antabus, if implanted, only works for a couple of months actually, and it gradually dissolves in the body. Another option is to take it voluntarily, but if you are an alcoholic, why would you take medication that'd make you sick of the very thing you crave? Naltrexone, another substance, works better, because it blocks the reward mechanisms for the consumption of alcohol, so if you take your alcoholic drink on ntx, you won't get the hit from it... that's enough to help a lot of people (but ethanol still works as a decent muscle relaxant and it produces its other effects without the pleasure -- see the documentary One Little Pill for more naltrexone evangelism). Another chemical that has been successfully used in the treatment of alcohol use disorder is acamprosate, which instead blocks the negative effects from not consuming ethanol... in many respects the opposite of naltrexone: ntx blocks the high of alcohol, while acamprosate blocks the lows from not consuming it. That being said, and to be more on topic, I fully enjoy the OP's own interjections to the narration of the LP, and I think they are a valuable contribution, lightening up the occasionally predictable dialogue. Godspeed.
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Apr 22, 2020 21:46
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Chapter 32: 9:14-10:49: The Despair At The End Of The Rainbow Content warning: Censored homophobic slurs. No, Cuno’s not in this one, it comes from somewhere else. You’ll see. ARIST: [Medium: Success] You can already tell it’s going to be a busy day, but still you have no real itinerary. You’ll tackle each problem as they present themselves, you suppose. That’s what you always do.  ARIST: [Challenging: Success] You realize you’re now calculating angles the bullet could come from even subconsciously. Pride wells up in your chest—that or your breakfast, anyway. You feel like a real cop. You’re going to solve this thing.    ARIST: [Easy: Success] As you re-enter this oh-so familiar patch of Martinaise, marked unmistakably by this roundabout and its static sprawl of lorries going nowhere, you notice two hooligans, their jackets covered in obscenities, inspecting Kim’s Coupris Kineema.   PISSF****T: “A snazzy poo poo-ripped SKULL-mobile like this would make a fine trophy. We could, like, hang loving shrunken heads from the side mirrors! Cops’ heads… Scary tribal poo poo.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Yeah, tribal poo poo…” he agrees. “A cop-carriage like this would have proper SKULL value…” KIM KITSURAGI: “Ahem.” He steps in. “While I appreciate the interest you take in my *brutal motor carriage*, I have to stop you right there. The RCM takes threats directed at its property seriously.”  gently caress THE WORLD: “I can tell you who we’re not, cop. We’re *not* snitches, f****ts or SKULLS.” PISSF****T: “Which is not to say that the SKULLS are bitches and f****ts. On the contrary…” gently caress THE WORLD: “The part of this presentation you wanna take home with you, cop man, is: We’re not part of the SKULLS. Yet.”  gently caress THE WORLD: “You don’t know? What kind of cop are you?”  PISSF****T: “The question was rhetorical,” he replies, raising his open hand. “The SKULLS are *the* most vicious gang of the Besmertyné.” ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Medium: Success] Besmertyné or the Besmertie—the *immortals*—are west-Revacholian crime syndicates. gently caress THE WORLD: “The nastiest bunch of psychos ever! Jacking carriages and getting into high-speed chases.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “If a SKULL spots you, he will pull out his dagger and stab you without saying a word.” COMPOSURE: [Easy: Success] The lieutenant’s voice is as calm as usual—a testament to the violence and death he’s witnessed through the sight of his firearm. KIM KITSURAGI: “They usually occupy the Burnt-Out Quarter in Jamrock. Or you can find them loitering around in their brightly-painted, bottom-lighted vehicles.”   gently caress THE WORLD: “Yeah, sure, we’ll gladly tell you everything we know about it.” He clears his throat. “It was a man.”  PISSF****T: “He was hanged from a tree.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Yeah, I mean… duh.” KIM KITSURAGI: “These punks don’t know anything. Let’s just move along.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Hey! Stop right there! How does one know anything?”  gently caress THE WORLD: “Exactly! How can one know poo poo? For example: How can one be sure that there truly is a body hanging behind the hostel?” ARIST: [Medium: Success] Well, there isn’t right now, so one can’t.   PISSF****T: The young man’s eyes glaze over as he marks in a voice filled with longing: “Oh yeah, Cindy’s a right proper SKULL…” gently caress THE WORLD: “Yeah,” the other guy lights up too. “A true artist of the future, just like Arno van Eyck.” PISSF****T: “By the way, if you see Cindy, give her our regards,” he adds, returning from whatever void he was just visiting. RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] For all their nihilistic posturing, these young men are not lacking in youthful idealism. EMPATHY: [Challenging: Success] Odd. There isn’t a hint of hate in them. It’s like they’re ‘Pissf******t’ and ‘gently caress The World’ out of some kind of moral obligation.  PISSF****T: “Old man, it doesn’t matter. You’ll be long gone before his greatness is recognized.”  PISSF****T: “Yep.” He nods enthusiastically. “Old as gently caress.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Yeah, man. It’s like… at death’s door. No wonder you know nothing about the future. You won’t *be* there.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “The Union does their share of policing in Martinaise, at least where gangs are concerned,” the lieutenant replies instead. “That’s why there isn’t much organized crime around here.” ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] Apart from the Union themselves of course. gently caress THE WORLD: “Don’t you worry about that. We’re gonna make up for the deficit.”  ARIST: [Medium: Success] These two seem like complete dipshits.  PISSF****T: “Because we can be just as psycho and vicious. You’ll see.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Oh, you’ll see for sure once we’re in—it’s the last thing you’ll ever see before the void consumes you.”  PISSF****T: “Uh…” He looks confused. “Well… yeah I mean, we’re only saying *practice* things for now, so… We don’t mean no harm to the SKULLS brand. Or to you.”  gently caress THE WORLD: “We think of it more like two franchises merging, you know—us two and the SKULLS. I really feel like we would add more to the table. Spice things up here in Martinaise, you know. Get the old machine of pain and suffering oiled up real good.”   PISSF****T: “Hey, we can be just as hard! Like pavement on top of pavement, or a brick on top of another brick.” gently caress THE WORLD: “Or a grave on top of a grave.” RHETORIC: [Easy: Success] These kids have the vocabulary but might be missing a brain. LOGIC: [Medium: Success] Wouldn’t a grave on top of a grave just be a big hole? What’s hard about holes?    PISSF****T: “Well, first off, it’s a statement and not *necessarily* something that characterizes me as a person, even though the statement has character. And I *do* like piss… The word PISSF****T epitomizes the struggle taking place in the world, things being defined as they seem, not as they are. And—I guess—it’s also about communal spirit, the future, and *truly* appreciating our differences.”  PISSF****T: “What I mean by this is—we are *all* Pissf****ts. And that the world is inherently meaningless.” ARIST: [Easy: Success] Sounds like some bullshit.  gently caress THE WORLD: “Like I said before, many men keep searching for *the one*. For so-called true love, which is actually just obsession masquerading as a kinship. The thrill of the chase, the hollowness that fills your chest cavity after catching it.” DRAMA: [Medium: Success] I’m wondering if the poetics come with the jacket or are they derived from something else entirely?  gently caress THE WORLD: “…you get more fish in a shorter time. And, for time is of the essence and fleeting ever so quickly, one must think of a way to gently caress the whole world—and not get caught up in loving some *one*. Because when one fucks everything, he fucks nothing. And that, to me, feels glorious—sticking your dick into the void.” RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Hate to admit it, but in a weird way he’s got a point. ARIST: [Medium: Success] Shut up, no he doesn’t!        KIM KITSURAGI: “Seems about right,” the lieutenant marks. “Especially considering your… heroic exit attempts.”    ARIST: Oh gently caress no. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Oh gently caress yes.  gently caress THE WORLD: “What… no!” He quickly looks around. “SKULLS don’t have kings,” he pauses. “I think, and we’re not even *in* yet…” PISSF****T: “Yeah, man, keep your voice down. SKULLS don’t take it lightly, when folks pretend to be them. We’re not even *prospects* yet.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “Wow, you boys are ambitious,” the lieutenant’s voice rings over the plaza. “Only *prospects* and already planning a coup in the SKULLS? You’re destined to go far!” HALF LIGHT: He gets it. Passive-aggressive flattery. gently caress THE WORLD: “Shut the gently caress up,” the youth presses through his clenched teeth, there’s panic in his eyes. “Are you trying to get us killed?”  PISSF****T: “Please be quiet!” Not much is left of the nihilistic rebel at this point. The young man before you is scared out of his mind. “What… WHAT do you want?!! T-t-the jackets?”  gently caress THE WORLD: “Oh man…” His shoulders slump under the weight of sadness. “Okay,” he says finally. “I get it. SKULLS don’t really wear slogans anyway, this was stupid.”    KIM KITSURAGI: “This case doesn’t require us to go undercover. Or raise hell… In fact I don’t think the jackets will be useful at all. I just wanted *them* to not have them anymore.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “The need will not arise.” CONCEPTUALIZATION: [Easy: Success] Pity. The jackets are meant to complete each other. If a man were standing alone on a street corner with ‘PISSF******T’ written on his back, it’d just be an individual that has taken a liking to urine. And ‘gently caress THE WORLD’ all on its own is, frankly, generic. gently caress THE WORLD: The dark-haired young man just stands there, defeated. The wind blows. “I don’t know, Eric. It’s cold out…” he finally says to his friend.    ARIST: [Medium: Success] You’ve successfully intimidated those youths and acquired their jackets, and you didn’t even have to piss off Kim to do it! Go you!     PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] About a week’s worth of mail has collected in there. They’ll empty this very soon. LOGIC: [Easy: Success] Probably did the right thing. You can’t trust that slug Evrart—you *know* he’s going to play you somehow.   ARIST: [Easy: Success] You re-enter the Whirling to take care of a few loose ends before reporting back to Evrart, not least of which is informing Morell and Lena of Cuno’s assorted hooliganism. Then, suddenly, you notice—  ARIST: SMOKER ON THE BALCONY! MINUS THE BALCONY!!!             SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “Oh, let me think…” He turns his eyes upward in recollection. “He had an accent. He sounded like one of those mercenaries.”      SMOKER ON THE BALCONY: “To his opportunities in Occident, Sur-la-Clef. Still…” He breathes in and keeps his lungs filled for a moment, before letting it out. “His coming and going brings some life to the village.”         ARIST: [Medium: Success] gently caress. Looks like his mysteries will continue to elude you for a while yet.    ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Poor Morell is going senile, talking to Garys that aren’t there.  GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER: “…that really *sucked*.”  ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Has he been holding that in since *last night*? You must have left without talking to him, leaving him *stewing* there for hours, trying to come up with the perfect line for when you came back.   GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER: “What—the interior-decorating kind?” He inspects the bird, somewhat suspiciously—then mellows. “You know—I’m sorry. This is actually a nice bird. A competent piece of taxidermy.”  EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] People just don’t know how to accept gifts, especially taxidermy. He likes it. He likes the bird. It solves his broken bird problem. ENDURANCE: [Medium: Success] This was mostly about the loving *cardio*. Massive cardio here. You’ll live ‘til 90! *Or* you’ll get a heart attack from running. KIM KITSURAGI: “I feel good about our work here today.” The lieutenant nods. “It’s all about the little things—like bringing people random stuffed animals.”  ARIST: [Medium: Success] Hooray! Garte likes you now! Well, maybe “likes” is going overboard a bit. How about “despises you slightly less”?  MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST: The cryptozoologist purses his lips. “So it *was* just a child…” He looks crestfallen.   VOLITION: [Medium: Success] Something is secretly gnawing at her confidence. It’s not this Cuno kid, or the missing locusts, it’s something else. MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST: “Yes, you’re right. We just need to restock the empty trap. Then we’ll need to inspect the traps one more time, and then *maybe*… we can…” The aging cryptozoologist breaks into a hideous coughing fit. COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] He has a 38 degree fever. His resilience has given way. LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: She looks at him with tender concern. “Darling, I told you to take it easy. You’re getting sick. Maybe it’s time to go home?” MORELL, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST: “You’re right, you’re right…” He breathes carefully, trying not to start coughing again. “We can come back next season… when it’s warmer…”  ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Part of you—a large part, in fact—winces as this dream dies before you. You know it’s probably for the best that they stop, that they don’t sacrifice their health on this absurd nonsense. Morell seems like he’s faced more than his share of disappointments, surely he can take one more… INLAND EMPIRE: The world contracts and cries out in pain. This man looks at everything on the planet with wonder and awe, with belief that we still have beauty and joy and *hope* left to find beyond our horizons. Can you take that away? Can you bear to make the world smaller? Can you dream not the past, broken and squandered, but the future? ARIST: … INLAND EMPIRE: Do it for the phasmid. ARIST: …gently caress it. All in on cryptids. You’ve come this far, might as well see it through. KIM KITSURAGI: “We’re getting *really* carried away with this, aren’t we?” He makes a show of suppressing a sigh. “Fine, it’s better than having these people get pneumonia on the coast. But after this…” DRAMA: [Medium: Success] He wants to see this tale through as much as *you*. Otherwise he’d have stopped this already. But he can *not* let it drag out after this.  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “What Morell means is, we’re grateful for your help.” She nods to her husband.    We have three points to spend, so we put one into Empathy and another into Hand/Eye Coordination, saving the last for if we need it later.  ARIST: [Medium: Success] You’ve been so preoccupied that you didn’t even realize you were dreading it, but you should follow up on the library card.  ALICE: “Hold on, officer. … … … I’ve got Central Jamrock Public Library on the line and I’ve already introduced you to their librarian. Connecting the call in 2… 1…” JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Yes, this is Central Jamrock Public Library here.” A male librarian answers the call. “How can I help you, officer?”  JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Billie, Billie *Méjean*, you said? Give me a moment, I’ll have to check our database.” He puts down the receiver. “… … …” SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] On Meroe Drive in Central Jamrock—in a darkened hall lit by orange desk lamps—far away from the noise outside—a middle-aged man taps commands into an old radiocomputer. A printout falls on the desk. Behind him, a lonely reader scours some dusty bookshelves, looking for a paperback… JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Yes, hello, are you still there?” You can hear him fiddle with the printout. “I found Billie Méjean’s home address, is that alright? No phone number unfortunately.”     JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Marie?” He covers the phone with his hand and yells out into the room behind him: “Marie! Do you remember a reader named Billie Méjean? They returned a Thibault book the other day…” You hear someone answer from afar. PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Challenging: Success] *Maurice, what?!* a woman yells. Then: *Yes-yes, okay, if it was the police…* She starts explaining something. JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Yes, it was my colleague Marie,” the librarian is speaking into the phone again. “She said that it was Billie’s *husband* who returned the book. He also asked for this new sci-fi release ‘Loos, Radio City ‘87’, but we don’t have it yet.”  JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Marie knows Billie, she’s been working here longer than me. Sometimes her husband returns some books for her.”   JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Marie…” A moment passes.  JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Uh, one second…” The librarian turns away from the phone again and relays the question.  JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY: “Happy we could help. Goodbye, officer.” The librarian hangs up and the call gets redirected back to the station with a soft click…   ARIST: [Medium: Success] You file away the address into your memory and walk down south, to the empty trap in the reeds. This cryptid diversion probably won’t end happily either, you know already, but at least here you can try to fill the void with reckless enthusiasm and stave off the worst of it until you’re already long gone. You’ll have no such luck with this Méjean case. You’re caught, being pulled every which way by people at their lowest, by stories of crisis, trying not to drown under the awful weight of it all. ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] That’s what being a police officer is.    COMPOSURE: [Easy: Success] They’re not really going to get the chance to get comfortable here.  KIM KITSURAGI: He stops you. “Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical question.”   ARIST: [Easy: Success] When you return to the Whirling, Morell is gone. Was Lena waiting here alone for you to get back? She’s unusually downcast and you feel uneasy just looking at her.   EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] Her smile is weary. Her earlier ebullience has left her.  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “I’m sorry, dear—you’ve had to drudge through them so many times. Such is field work—a young person’s game as they say.”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Morell will eventually. Or we’ll talk Gary into going back out, perhaps…”  ARIST: [Medium: Success] Sorry, Kim. LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “That *really* is too much, sweetie. Thank you for your dedication, but I can see you’re coming down with a cough yourself.”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Different—how?” The half-moons of her glasses reflect you as she looks up at you.   LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “It’s… a strange feeling.” She looks down, biting her lower lip. “I haven’t really told this to anyone, but… you *are* a police officer.” AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] And when a police officer asks—you must answer. LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Do you ever wonder if some lovely story from your childhood is just that… a story? Or a dream?” COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] Hunching her shoulders now, she seems even smaller than she is. Like a sad young girl.  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Morell’s so proud of it. He always tells everyone…”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “No, sweetie,” she shakes her head, “there’s more to it than that. Morell was so eager to believe my story was *evidence* of the phasmid’s existence… That I’m some Queen of the Cryptozoologists… That… And for years his belief made *me* believe, too.” SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] That I’m a queen. An extraordinary witness to grace. LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “But now we’re both getting old, and he’s still working himself sick out in those reeds, looking for it…” She shakes her head, still unable to meet your eyes. “But what if I was just *wrong*? I think I was…” KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant opens his notebook but doesn’t write anything.      LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “But it *is*. We’ve spent years searching for the phasmid, hunting it together. Without it, what are we? Just another pathetic old couple…”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “But if the dream comes to naught, what good is it? No, the thing is…” She looks down at her legs… “I was a paraplegic before we met. He didn’t know before I arrived… on our first date. If I weren’t the Queen of the Cryptozoologists… If I didn’t tell him that story…”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Maybe. But then why do I not dare tell him?” She sighs. “I’ve wasted enough of your time with this drama. I really must stop talking about it, lest I start crying and waste *more* of your time.”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “I’m not sure of anything.” She looks out the window. “Sometimes I still see it, you know. The real memory. Not the memory of the memory, but it’s so hard to tell the two apart…” INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] Rising, unfolding from the reeds on a hot summer’s day… like a benevolent god.   KIM KITSURAGI: “Really?” LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Oh sweetie…” She looks at you, worried. “Please don’t get stuck on a dream. Take it from me and Morell.”  LENA, THE CRYPTOZOOLOGIST’S WIFE: “Okay, it’s 1113 Tabernacle Road, Jamrock, but…”   RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] A waste of time? INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] A dream? DRAMA: [Medium: Success] A lie? PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] A *fool’s hope*—say her lips moving in silence.   ARIST: [Trivial: Success] He’s right. Arist fucked around with this message at 02:11 on Apr 27, 2020 |
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Apr 27, 2020 01:25
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God this game is so good
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Apr 27, 2020 02:09
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Goddamn I love Lena and Morell.
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Apr 27, 2020 02:52
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Apr 27, 2020 06:00
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I never dared to try the suggestion check with Lena, because I was afraid to ruin things if I failed.
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Apr 27, 2020 11:41
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Apr 27, 2020 12:08
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VictualSquid posted:I never dared to try the suggestion check with Lena, because I was afraid to ruin things if I failed. I failed and its real sad. What isn't sad though, is
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Apr 27, 2020 21:56
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It's funny, I'm so invested in our cop now I don't even want to see what Botchcop gets up to. It almost feels irrelevant. (not a diss on the LP/Botchcop parts just more an expression of surprise that the game's writing could get me like that)
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Apr 28, 2020 00:35
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quote:we are *all* Pissf****ts. And that the world is inherently meaningless checks out
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Apr 28, 2020 07:55
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Gang tag?
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Apr 28, 2020 08:20
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edit: wrong thread
bawfuls fucked around with this message at 07:40 on May 3, 2020 |
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May 3, 2020 07:31
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Scaramouche posted:It's funny, I'm so invested in our cop now I don't even want to see what Botchcop gets up to. It almost feels irrelevant. This is why I haven't replayed the game. I know there's a ton more stuff I could see, but what I got out of it feels right and I'm genuinely satisfied by it. Even if I only played it once it's the best CRPG I've ever played, in part because I only feel like I needed to play it once.
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May 3, 2020 14:28
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Caught up with the thread over the course of several days. This game can really pile on the melancholy when it wants to. The ruined patrol car is perhaps the most sterling example of the troubled emotions it can stir so far.
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May 16, 2020 16:54
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I hope this LP isn't completely dead
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Jun 11, 2020 02:00
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It's not. I haven't worked on it at all since I posted the last update, but that's not boredom or even the pressure of doing 2 SSLPs at once, it's entirely just personal issues. I updated the other LP I'm doing last week for the first time since April 20th, and after I posted that I tried to explain myself. If you care, here's that post:Arist posted:Hey, I mentioned it in the update but again, I'm really sorry this took so long, especially when I have this little to show for it. I was pretty anxious and depressed in late April and early May, and by the time I recovered my ADHD decided it wanted a turn on the merry-go-round too, so I spent that entire month just bouncing around waiting for my meds to kick in and trying to stop reading loving Twitter all day. Not a day passed where I didn't badly want to work on this, but I ended up too distracted to really get anything done and wound up shelving this project for weeks at a time, dusting it off to make an extremely minor adjustment, and then repeating the process. I'm not saying updates will resume as normal, but hopefully actually reminding myself what working on something feels like will prevent any more absurd impromptu hiatuses. Thanks for your patience. I didn't post that here, though, because I would prefer to have something to show for myself before I start mining pity. Sorry, hopefully I'll be able to update soon.
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Jun 11, 2020 02:09
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Arist posted:It's not. I haven't worked on it at all since I posted the last update, but that's not boredom or even the pressure of doing 2 SSLPs at once, it's entirely just personal issues. I updated the other LP I'm doing last week for the first time since April 20th, and after I posted that I tried to explain myself. If you care, here's that post: It's alright, take however long you like. Nobody wants you to damage your mental health by doing this.
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Jun 11, 2020 08:52
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I just got the free time and resources to get back into LPing, so if you need help \ someone to hand the LP over to...
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Jun 17, 2020 05:06
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Nah, I like working on this. It's a fun creative writing exercise for me, I just haven't been in a good headspace lately.
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Jun 17, 2020 05:57
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I was planning on maybe trying to get an update out this week, but in light of the Lowtax situation... stay tuned, folks! Don't really feel secure doing work right now if I might never actually get to post it. The good news is that if the forums go under I have actually already backed up the raw text of all the updates. Hopefully in that case I will be able to find somewhere else for them.
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Jun 24, 2020 16:40
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Arist posted:I was planning on maybe trying to get an update out this week, but in light of the Lowtax situation... stay tuned, folks! Don't really feel secure doing work right now if I might never actually get to post it. A few people have been suggesting https://www.lp.zone/ as a place for screenshot LPs
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Jun 24, 2020 16:48
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Two words: infinite scroll. Unfortunately, it's just not a viable option. I'll post what I posted in my other thread: I don't really use the same persona (heh) on Twitter as SA and I don't really associate this account with that one, but in case poo poo blows up before I'm able to communicate where, exactly, I go to post new updates you should follow my Twitter (and then immediately unfollow me once you know where because I am a deeply insufferable human being)
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Jun 24, 2020 16:49
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Arist posted:SUNDAY FRIEND: “That is extremely unfortunate. Yes, it’s regrettable that this practice has a history in certain Occidental nations, even highly advanced members of EPIS…” "I sincerely apologize for the behavior I was displaying up until literally 5 minutes ago. These actions, undertaken by me extremely recently, are in the past, and therefore do not represent the person that I am at present, having been caught and shamed. This behavior, which my organization is still indulging in as we speak and which we have no intention of ceasing once no longer the focus of attention, is basically a long forgotten sin. Thank heavens we are entirely free of the dark habits that mar our present and the foreseeable future". Just... :chefkiss:
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Jul 1, 2020 07:41
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Bought the game based on the strength of the first update. Unfortunately my computer is just slightly too much of a potato to run it, so I kept reading. And had to force myself to stop occasionally so I'd have something to look forward to later. Great game, and your presentation is excellent.
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Jul 4, 2020 12:16
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haven't they recently released an update that makes it work on even lower spec machines? if so, dang; see if you can borrow a slightly bigger calculator
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Jul 4, 2020 12:24
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Chapter 33: 10:49-13:23: Building Bridges, Burning Buddies, And Being Boring Content warning: censored homophobic slur courtesy of our buddy Dennis. What, you don’t remember Denni—Shanky. I mean Shanky. Let’s just say my two-month absence from this LP was at least partially because I realized that in the wake of the anti-police protests of May and June it would be considered gauche to glamori—no? No one’s buying that? Worth a shot.  ARIST: [Heroic: Failure] Okay, next we should-- INLAND EMPIRE: [Challenging: Success] You blink and the weight of empty time slams into you full force. Not a minute has passed since Lena left, yet you feel as if everything—*everything*—has just snapped back into focus after a prolonged blackout. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: [Trivial: Success] No. You’ve been sober. It’s still Thursday, still 10:49 AM. Don’t blame me for you losing the plot here. REACTION SPEED: [Legendary: Failure] You try in vain to close your fingers around wisps of thought and reason, watching helplessly as they slip and stream away at your touch. You might as well be trying to lasso a swarm of bees. What were you thinking about just now? Why can you not remember what you were about to do? ARIST:Your eyes desperately search the hostel for something, anything to root you into place. Something new, some progress to make. You see the booth full of drunken dockworkers and sigh. Whatever. Talk to Titus.   TITUS HARDIE: “You’re coo-coo, cop.” His smile hides a flash of anger. “I’m the *only* man responsible for this unit—get with it, or gently caress off.” AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] How many times must I tell you…  TITUS HARDIE: “Sounds like you’re *making* her a suspect in this. Not on my watch you’re not. Ruby’s one of us. We’re not gonna throw her under your Moralintern steamroller, gently caress that poo poo!” SHANKY: “And gently caress you too, moral-f*g!” He throws a glance at Titus as the last syllable leaves his lips. The big guy sighs. ARIST: [Medium: Success] God, shut up, Shanky. KIM KITSURAGI: “Ruby is missing. If you hide from the police in a murder investigation you become a suspect. You know how it works, guys.” TITUS HARDIE: “That’s *nothing*, that’s just legalese. You don’t even have a *sound theory*.” He crosses his arms.” I don’t wanna be rude, but we’re trying to get some R&R here. Think you could gently caress off now?” DRAMA: [Trivial: Success] That’s not true. He did mean to be rude.    Seems like we’ve got a ridiculous amount of evidence in our favor.   TITUS HARDIE: “Because she was here *all night*. With us.” ALAIN: “He’s cobbling together poo poo so he can put her away. It’s Cop 101.” KIM KITSURAGI: “She was here all night?” the lieutenant ignores the tattooed man. “11:30 to 12:25—she was here during *all* that time?”  TITUS HARDIE: “No…”  TITUS HARDIE: “Alright, she took a loving leak, okay? For one moment. *Maybe* went out too. She has a complex operation to run from her lorry.” He points to the intersection. She’s a busy girl—always has been.” LOGIC: Of course! Ruby is the lady driver in this great big *Jam Mystery*! Probably. You’ll have to keep investigating—they’ll never open up about it. TITUS HARDIE: “Just ‘cause she was gone for five minutes doesn’t mean she *magically* got to the roof and shot the merc.” He taps on his temple. “I’ve been through this—it’s not plausible.” REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] He’s been through it. That means *he’s* suspected her too. LOGIC: All right. We’re in, we got Ruby unaccounted for some time during the window. This was crucial. Now let’s place her on that roof.   TITUS HARDIE: “Hmhm. People say there was a pinball arcade here, some time before the hostel—what was it called, Theo?” THEO: “East Delta Pinball Arcade.” The old man coughs. “*Weird* place—went bankrupt.” TITUS HARDIE: “Okay, but…” The man looks around? How’d she get up? There’s no room for a staircase in this building. *Or* an elevator, for that matter.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “Ruby could have gone up—shot him—come down—all under seven minutes.” TITUS HARDIE: “That’s quite the theory…” He turns to Eugene. “We need to have a look at that secret passage, boys.” EUGENE: “I’m on it, boss. Right when the law clears, me and Angus are going up there.” SHANKY: “It’s a *dumbwaiter*, not an industrial lift. How about I go instead of…”  TITUS HARDIE: “Firmly?” He shakes his head. “Firmly doesn’t go well with *could’ve*. There’s a route to the roof. Me and boys need to check it out. That’s what we’ve *established*. But a route,” he forms a gun with his hand, “does not put that bullet in his head. A gun does that. And Ruby doesn’t carry one.” LOGIC: Phase II: murder weapon. Get a gun in her hand. If not that, then at least a shadow of a doubt (in the shape of a gun). RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Just don’t contradict yourself. If it doesn’t sound like “RUBY DID IT”, maybe keep it to yourself?  EUGENE: “So…?” The man shrugs and looks at you. TITUS HARDIE: “So it had to come from a breech-loading rifle. Military grade.” He turns to you. “Not even you militia-monkeys have those.”  TITUS HARDIE: “Cop—that’s *exactly* what it means.”  ARIST: Swing and a miss.  KIM KITSURAGI: “Twenty, maybe thirty rifles, Titus. Also broken—but still, there were many. And there must be other caches too.” EUGENE: “Goddamnit, we need to close that dump down for good.” Just don’t open the ice bear fridge. It’s full of corpse slime for… reasons. TITUS HARDIE: He nods to it. “It’s a god drat breechloader too—find one that works and you got a military grade weapon—that shoots jacketed ammunition.” He shakes his head. LOGIC: He sees it—this is coming together—he *must*.  GLEN: The blonde man looks at the mushroomed deathbringer in the evidence bag and says: “Yeah, the bitch is jacketed alright. 4 mm too…” FAT ANGUS: “Whoaa…” TITUS HARDIE: “Well, god drat…” His eyes follow the evidence bag back into your pocket. “It’s not proof, but it’s a possible murder weapon—close to her. Too drat close.”  TITUS HARDIE: “All right.” He nods. “Keep talking. I’m getting a bit *curious* about some things myself.” GLEN: “T, we’re not seriously considering it, are we?!” He almost gets up from his seat. “Ruby wouldn’t do this. Why would she do something like this?” LOGIC: Phase III: Motive. The last component.   KIM KITSURAGI: “Think about it—why go through all that effort? It was her idea, wasn’t it? The hanging? You went along, but she suggested it.” SHANKY: The little man squints, eyes beady. “She had, like, a fully formed plan and poo poo. Right when she came back downstairs…” EUGENE: “Really, Shanks? Klaasje wanted to talk to another girl, that’s all. She was just the first one up there; *I* could’ve come up with that plan, if I’d been first.”  SHANKY: “I didn’t do it, fucker! It wasn’t *my* plan.” ALAIN: “You probably *did* though…”  SHANKY: “gently caress you, man, I would never gently caress my guys over like that.” He squeaks with indignation. GLEN: “She didn’t either! She would never do that.” The blonde man looks around. “Why aren’t more of you defending her? This is loving stupid, Titus.” TITUS HARDIE: “Glen.” Titus looks grim. “I thought the same thing when she skipped town and left us in this poo poo.”  ARIST: [Easy: Success] You’re doing it. You’re getting there. Or maybe Titus was more open to this all along than you thought, and he was just looking for a reason—an excuse—to buy in. Whatever. Seal the deal. ALAIN: “Nah, man. That’s just Ruby. She’s got poo poo under control,” the man explains. “That’s her whole thing. That’s why she’s so good.” EUGENE: ”Plus, man, it’s like *female intuition* you know. Women talk to women.” He peeks at Titus. “Which is sorta why we need someone on the team who they talk to.”    ARIST: [Legendary: Failure] Yeah, you know what? Let’s not. Not advisable.   TITUS HARDIE: Silence. He looks around the room. THEO: The old man in the corner nods. PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] A very small nod—and a trickle of tobacco spit on his lip. AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] This is the only opinion he cares for. TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah—I see it.” He puts his beer down. “There’s one more thing I’ve been *wondering* about. Ever since you asked me where she is. Add it to your list of suspicions, if you want.”  TITUS HARDIE: “She was afraid I would tell you.” He looks you straight in the eye. “Maybe she was right. By now I probably would.” KIM KITSURAGI: “She knew there’s evidence on her—and she knew we’d find it. This is typical suspect behaviour. Why fleeing is always incriminatory.”    TITUS HARDIE: “No—you. As in the cop with the sideburns and the disco clothes.”  TITUS HARDIE: “Sure—*normal*,” He says without smiling.   TITUS HARDIE: “Until you *have* something on her. She said she’s heard of you from Jamrock. That you’re a human can-ipener. That you play suspects against each other. Open them up, like cans.” ALAIN: “loving hell…” The tattooed man shakes his head. “Titus, did he just…” TITUS HARDIE: “…open Angus up like a can? Yes, he did.” He nods. “Now, we can whine about it, whack him, or we can go on with our lives. I’m having a ‘go on with our lives’ kind of day, Al. How about you?” AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] It’s not an actual question.   TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah, there was something else. She wouldn’t tell me though. I could see she wanted to. It was *burning* on her lips: ‘This cop, Titus, this cop, he…’ But she was too scared.”   TITUS HARDIE: “She’s not far. We know that much—she didn’t take her lorry. So she’s on foot.” ALAIN: “Good loving luck, man… She knows this place like the back of her hand. You’ll never find her.” TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah, Al.” He gives a sharp look. “And we won’t either.” GLEN: “She’s not really a…” The man stares into his beer. “Hardie candidate any more, is she?”  TITUS HARDIE: “A little—on the coast.” KIM KITSURAGI: “Where have you looked for her, more precisely?” TITUS HARDIE: More precisely? On the *coast*. Past the water lock.” He nods southwest. “She’s not here, so I’m thinking she’s there.”   TITUS HARDIE: “No one goes to tell Evrart anything. He knows what he has to know—fast.”  TITUS HARDIE: “Sure—there are some shithouses there. A cinderblock town. The fisher-folk there refuse to unionize, so that’s one place we haven’t looked. I hear they have a shack where junkies sometimes crash. Time for you to step up.”    TITUS HARDIE: His grip is firm and reassuring. Like holding a piece of unpolished granite.  TITUS HARDIE: “When are you gonna get it through your dumb head?” He scoffs. “I already *am*, I just wasn’t sure you were.”  ARIST: [Medium: Success] Nice work. What nex—   KIM KITSURAGI: “You?” He looks at you. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”       -2 Inland Empire?! No thank you!  ARIST: [Easy: Success] Go chat with Tommy. He might have some information on this drug situation. Even if it doesn’t end up helping much with the Ruby deal, it’ll be worth it to have something to report back to Joyce to get some more information from her.  TOMMY LE HOMME: He shifts around, suddenly uncomfortable, then looks away. “I don’t want to talk about that…”   TOMMY LE HOMME: “I didn’t, man—I told you, I was *hoping* it’s not her. That she wouldn’t be mixed up in it.” EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] He still is—hoping. It’s just wishful thinking on his part, not trickery. DRAMA: [Medium: Success] It’s true. We would have caught a lie. But… a *kind* heart is tricky.    TOMMY LE HOMME: A young-ish woman. Gruff, but… in a cool way.” KIM KITSURAGI: “What colour hair?” TOMMY LE HOMME: “Blue and violet, dyed.” He answers reluctantly. “It was violet when she got here. Blue before she went.” LOGIC: [Easy: Success] Then she may have dyed it again.  TOMMY LE HOMME: “drat, I don’t wanna…” He looks you straight in the eye. “Please just let it go. Whatever she did, it can’t be that bad. She’s not a bad person, I know that much.” KIM KITSURAGI: “We can’t just *let it go.* It’s part of a police investigation.” TOMMY LE HOMME: “That’s how it always is with you, isn’t it? All part of the investigation…” He shakes his head. “The girl’s *troubled*—if you hunt her down, she may not survive it. I can’t have that on my conscience.” KIM KITSURAGI: “It won’t come to that. We won’t pursue her on this. This is information only.”   TOMMY LE HOMME: “She’s got the *darkness* in her. That young person’s darkness when you think it’s all over. And you’re looking for a way *out*.” KIM KITSURAGI: “She shared this with you?”  TOMMY LE HOMME: “I heard the rumours. I saw the other drivers looking at me *strange* when we talked. And she told me too—that she’s had a violent life. But I wasn’t afraid of her, more like *for* her.” KIM KITSURAGI: “Did this violent life include drug trafficking?”   TOMMY LE HOMME: “gently caress, man… Go grill someone else with these questions, okay? There are plenty of drivers here who couldn’t stand her. Or were *afraid* of her. They’d be more than happy to rat her out.” REACTION SPEED: [Easy: Success] He’s right, there are other options—the raceman, for one. LOGIC: [Medium: Success] Hmh… the grey haired woman. Maybe she knows something? RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Wait. This guy says they’re friends, then *acquaintances*. And he’s okay with others ratting her out?  TOMMY LE HOMME: “You’re not gonna put a bullet in your head if you blow it, are you? ‘Cause she’s on the *edge*, man.”    ARIST: [Medium: Success] Fine. Not much gained from Tommy, but not because he lacked to give. Try to find a better option—don’t break that poor man. Start with the woman. She was unresponsive before, but you should still see what she knows.    PALEDRIVER: “Where am I? Who are you?” Like a magician recalling a subject from hypnosis, you’ve jolted her back to reality.   PALEDRIVER: “Back in Mesque during the time of the revolution.” The smile returns to her face. The sidewalks and cafes are filled with young people… I was on my way to see a new boiadeiro picture starring Gabriel Buenguerro.”   Was IMG_4346.jpeg a picture of Gabriel Buenguerro all alo—NO! Bad joke! Bad Arist! Boooo! PALEDRIVER: A strikingly handsome man looks straight at you, his head crowned with a wide-brim hat. His hair is dark as an oil slick and his jaw is the most perfectly chiseled thing you’ve ever seen. SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] This man’s got a hold over her. Even fifty years later, you can feel it… PALEDRIVER: “He was a the biggest star of his day Girls used to faint in the aisles of the cinema whenever he came on the screen, and school boys used to memorize all his lines…” She leans back, savouring the world she’s conjured up.   PALEDRIVER: “They are someone’s memories, boy.” She gets gruff, suddenly. “What difference does it make if it’s me or not? They’re beautiful. That is all that matters. Beautiful and true—and they will win. They’re *coming* for this, you know…” She looks around. “All of this.” REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] All of what—the world? The present?  PALEDRIVER: “I wasn’t dreaming. I was *there*, lawman. It was early spring and *The Man Behind The Black Sun* had just come out. The posters were twenty metres tall. Everything was golden…” Her eyes narrow and she appears to take your measure. “While *you* people were tearing each other apart over your petty little revolution, in Mesque it was a golden age.”  PALEDRIVER: “Why not, *xerife*? It’s not like I have anything better to do in this hellhole.” She settles back against the railing of her motor lorry. Behind her, mountains of memorabilia, photos, and knickknacks line the dashboard.   PALEDRIVER: “Please?” She raises her boot, slowly, with contempt. “I think you should let me get back to the Gabriel Buenguerro. You’re no Gabriel. Gabriel doesn’t say please…”  PALEDRIVER: “Just before Gabriel it was the coronation of Franconegro—now there was a real man…” There is no aberration in the pattern that you can see. She puts her foot down. VISUAL CALCULUS: [Easy: Success] Moreover, the boots were size 37. Tiny. There are too man discrepancies in all this.  PALEDRIVER: “It was,” she shrugs. “And then it was no more. And I was no longer holding my father’s hand. He was no longer descending the stairs in Raehl. The crowd had gone silent. Perhaps it was another *xerife* who came and woke me up, looking at my boots, asking questions? Or perhaps it was one of the others in this *carnaval*. I don’t remember.”  ARIST: [Easy: Success] Not exactly surprising, but it pays to be thorough. KIM KITSURAGI: He takes a quick note. “I could have told you that from just looking at them. Her size is 37.”       PALEDRIVER: “Of course not. To truly understand the boiadeiro, you need to listen to ‘On the Western Plain.’”   PALEDRIVER: “Of course not. The boiadeiro returns from the Western Plain a *changed* man. One night, as he and his beloved are out walking along the River Magritte, she pleads with him to give up his riding and settle down…”   ARIST: [Easy: Success] What the gently caress?! PALEDRIVER: “You have to understand—a true boiadeiro needs a whole horizon to himself. He can’t be tied down by man or woman. His beloved was selfish. She didn’t know what it means to love a *boiadeiro*.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “She’s just a distracted old woman. We should maybe let her get back to her things…” LOGIC: [Medium: Success] So he doesn’t think she’s the ladydriver?  KIM KITSURAGI: “Nothing. I just don’t think she’s connected to anything.”   PALEDRIVER: “Lomonossov’s Land. Udachnaya Zemlya. The Western Plain…” She nods and closes her eyes again, letting her mind submerge… SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] A terrible cold comes over her. Rattling her teeth, as she stares inward.  PALEDRIVER: She looks over and scoffs. “You’re right, lawman. *I’m* the one who should take *my* health more seriously. Thank you for looking out for me…” ENDURANCE: [Easy: Success] A correct appraisal, you’re quite shabby.  PALEDRIVER: She cups her ear and leans forward. “Did you just call me a *lady*, xerife?”  ARIST: [Easy: Success] Nope, nuh-uh, not going there. Move on.   PALEDRIVER: “Then what *were* you getting at?” AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] This line of questioning is going nowhere! Try harder!       ARIST: [Easy: Success] Full circle! PALEDRIVER: “Easy. It’s the skinny man who thinks he’s a poet—never trust a poet…” She squints across the square. “Also, he’s the only one I can see from here.”   PALEDRIVER: “Where do you want me to go? This isn’t so bad. I can listen to music, or the seagulls. Look at all the colours and the features of this world. It’s a good pallet-cleanser, this jamboree… Or—I can just relax and let my mind carry me back where it will. To the great plains…”   ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Well, that was… unproductive at best. You only have one lead remaining, and unfortunately, it’s that racist lorry driver. Go talk to him, or you’re going to have to force Tommy.   The context for this shot is that we stopped in at Frittte to collect one dollar and sixty cents for our tare haul and saw this message. That’s it.  ARIST: [Medium: Success] Ugh. Get this over with.   RACIST LORRY DRIVER: “He did *something*. He stole his employer’s goods and another lorryman’s job. You should be thankful for the tip.” He grins—a wide smile.   KIM KITSURAGI: “No.” The lieutenant turns to the lorryman. “He means *La Puta Madre*.” ENCYCLOPEDIA: A legendary—and not in a *good* way—crime boss from Jamrock. Controls what is probably the most powerful organized crime outfit in Revachol West. ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] Looks like the lieutenant has a plan. Let him do this.  KIM KITSURAGI: “Then I presume you’re familiar with his *peones*?” RACIST LORRY DRIVER: “Yeah,” he says, unsure where this is leading. “They’re his little bitches. He’s got them all over the unions.” KIM KITSURAGI: “Not just the unions. He has peones *everywhere*. Some say he even has them in the RCM.” He gets closer to him. “Dirty loving peones who’d do *anything* for him. Multi-ethnic drug addicts…”  RACIST LORRY DRIVER: “You’re not peones,” he says. “You wouldn’t be investigating a drug-thing, if you were.” KIM KITSURAGI: “No. Of course not. *We’re* not peonees. But *if* we were… and one of Madre’s drivers were to be stealing from him—then it’s a good peone’s job to find out who that is.” DRAMA: [Medium: Success] He’s surprisingly good at this. Not bad at all… Look at him lurching. KIM KITSURAGI: It’s not a hard job. It won’t take a long time. It won’t made Padre Madre *angry*.” He looks at him. “But a stupid loving racist is standing in the way, *protecting* this loving thief…” RACIST LORRY DRIVER: His eyes dart between you and the lieutenant. “I’m not scared of you—or the mob. I’m under the protection of the Lorrymen and Carters Guild.” KIM KITSURAGI: “You’ve seen that corpse in the ceramic armour there?” The lieutenant points to the yard. “Did his lovely little guild protect *him*?” RACIST LORRY DRIVER: “Nah. You wouldn’t just leave him out there if you…” He tries to light a fresh cigarette, but his hands are shaking now. The sentence simply ends. KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant turns and gives you a barely perceptible nod. ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] I’ve softened him up. As best as I could. Now it’s on you to finish the job.  ARIST: [Medium: Success] Gotcha. Won’t let you down, Kim!   ARIST: poo poo! Sorry, Kim!  RACIST LORRY DRIVER: “Make me, runt.” He blows a cloud of smoke right in front of your face.   ARIST: [Medium: Success] Dammit. Seems we’ve no choice but to break this man’s heart.    TOMMY LE HOMME: I… I thought you were a different kind of cop.” Something breaks in him as he stares into your eyes. EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] The realization that you’ve used his friendliness and good will for your own ends.  TOMMY LE HOMME: “Here.” He takes a keyring from his pocket—then looks at it before giving it to you. In silence… INTERFACING: [Medium: Success] The keys to a motor lorry. Pretty complex. Looks like a chain lock.     TOMMY LE HOMME: “She left them to me. Because she trusted me… So I can get it out of the way when the jam breaks loose. Otherwise…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. KIM KITSURAGI: “The other drivers would have to tow it, or break in, to get the machines moving.” He nods.  TOMMY LE HOMME: “I bet you are.”   ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Tommy hates you now. You’d like to say it wasn’t you, it was just your responsibilities, but that’s the core conflict of power: a conflict between who you want to be and who it makes you. Better that dissonance still exist within you than not, you suppose.  ARIST: [Easy: Success] Go find that lorry to recover from your rapid onset of melancholy.   ABANDONED LORRY: The glass on the side windows is tinted and covered with dust. You can barely make out the shape of a seat and two steering levers. PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Challenging: Success] Posters cover the small windows in the back—you can’t make out what’s on them.  ABANDONED LORRY: The door is locked. The handle looks shiny, like it’s recently replaced.   ABANDONED LORRY: The smell of cigarettes and perfume welcomes you. The cabin inside is plastered with old movie posters, actresses smiling from the walls. There’s a radio transmitter in the front and a toolbox tucked under the driver’s seat. Some tools lie scattered near the pedals.  ABANDONED LORRY: “These are movie posters featuring starlets from long-forgotten films—from the twenties, the teens, even the nineties of the last century. One of them particularly catches your eye: A centrefold of an ingénue attached right above the back seat.   ABANDONED LORRY: The actress is draped in a sheath dress, one of her shoulders bared. The faded remains of an autograph run across the poster. She’s looking past the camera. INLAND EMPIRE: [Challenging: Success] A feeling of tenderness washes over you—a longing even, perhaps. And gentle tragedy.    ABANDONED LORRY: Looks like the frequency dial is absent. It requires a key to work, but the key has been removed—likely by the missing lady driver. KIM KITSURAGI: Kim leans closer to the radio and hums: “Strange. There are so many radio stations saved here… must be over one hundred at least.”    Just busting your balls, Kim. KIM KITSURAGI: “For contacting an entire fleet of lorrymen, for example.” He flicks a switch on the radio. “This is all shortwave, UW and UKV… Looks like we’re dealing with an impressive organizational tool—the nerve centre of a huge operation. With quite the range too.”    ABANDONED LORRY: You wedge yourself under the steering wheel to get a better look. Seems like the few tools lying around here—a hammer, a pair of pliers, a rusty wrench—have been casually thrown there by the disorganized driver. But one odd detail does catch your eye: A piece of sandpaper has been glued to the throttle.   KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes?” He likes where this is going…     ABANDONED LORRY: Voila! A stack of neatly folded papers has been stashed behind the seating fabric. You see three maps depicting a large metropolitan area. It’s Revachol, some of its route and highways have been outlined with a pen.  ABANDONED LORRY: This large map displays the elevated motorway called 8/81. The intake leading to Martinaise is marked with a blue X. There’s another X on the off-ramp at a place called the Old South. Tollbooths at the intakes are marked with a circle. It looks like there are scant few ways of getting onto the elevated motorway that runs over Jamrock—and this person knows them all.   ABANDONED LORRY: This municipal map from the thirties displays a complex system of storm sewers underneath a sub-district called The Pox (Old Military Hospital), right adjacent to the 41st Precinct. INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] No storm will ever drown Revachol, the great solution to the riddle of history.   ABANDONED LORRY: The final map displays a labyrinth of service tunnels left over from the construction of Motorway 8/81. A few routes have been marked with a pen—where the tunnels and sewers surface near the Eminent Domain and a traffic island in Central Jamrock, by the lake. INTERFACING: [Medium: Success] These service tunnels were probably used during the construction of the foundation beneath the motorway.  KIM KITSURAGI: “So it would seem.” The lieutenant examines the maps with a furrowed brow.   KIM KITSURAGI: “A besmertie is a Revacholian crime syndicate. They see themselves as the inheritors of the 14 Revacholian indotribes, but really they’re just violent gangs vying for control on the West side of Revachol…”  KIM KITSURAGI: “It’s definitely not the Union. They just do *some* logistics. This operation has spread everywhere in Jamrock. If it’s that widespread, then Madre remains the most likely suspect. He’s *bad news*.” Kim removes his glasses and polishes them with a handkerchief. “There have been attempts at a serious investigation before, but they… haven’t ended well for those involved.”  KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant nods. “Best not to disturb the scene—I’ll have forensics go over the lorry and pick these up later.”    ABANDONED LORRY: It looks like an article ripped out from a radio-enthusiast magazine. Complex mathematical equations explain the basics of something called ‘the ULAN frequency system’.     All right, let’s confer with Kim.  KIM KITSURAGI: “Honestly, I’m quite worried by what we’ve seen so far. The evidence seems to point to a rather extensive and well-organized operation. I’m especially intrigued by that radio transmitter—particularly the sheer number of stations it can connect. Looks like this alleged drug trade casts a wide net.” LOGIC: [Medium: Success] This means it's well funded. Technology like that... a major player must be financing it. KIM KITSURAGI: “I’m not sure what the ULAN frequencies are all about, but they may hold some significance. Perhaps it’s a better way to connect between fleets while avoiding frequency bleed, or maybe it’s used to tap into RCM networks… Oh, and the maps we found. They reveal the *geographical* extent of the operation—looks like they’ve used abandoned tunnels and access roads to stay hidden. This is useful info.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “One way or another they seem to be—logistically, if nothing else. But don’t expect to bust this open during our stay here. At best this is an angle we can use against them. To other ends. As extra ammunition.”  KIM KITSURAGI: “Perhaps you’re right…” He stops to think. “This is one connection I find a little dubious, to be honest. I prefer not to profile people’s emotions. Perhaps it’s because I’m not very good at it, but still.” EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] Actually, he’s not bad at it at all.  KIM KITSURAGI: “We should return to the murder case. See what Joyce tells us about the lynching. When we’re done for the day, I’ll call my station and suggest our narcotics department look into it.”      ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Let’s immediately head over and confront our new buddy Titus with this information.  TITUS HARDIE: “Like hell you have.” He leans back, unruffled. “There is no ‘local drug trade’. This place us as clean as a rifle. Go back to Jamrock and ask the local junkies how clean *your* streets are in Precinct ‘41-Kilos’.” KIM KITSURAGI: “We’ll do that. In the meantime,” he points south, “did you know that there’s an abandoned lorry at the intersection that was used to move raw ingredients for drugs from Terminal B to Jamrock?”  KIM KITSURAGI: “Thank you.” He turns to face the man. “You’re right, Titus. There is no local drug trade, because it’s all controlled by *you*. *You’re* the the drug trade.” TITUS HARDIE: “That’s a mighty interesting theory.” He rubs his jaw, smiling. “I guess that’s what you would need to do, theoretically. A big, strong, state run monopoly *would* out-compete the runts on the street.” EUGENE: “Yeah, man. *Theoretically* that’s what you would do—to get rid of the gangs, the dealers, even some of the junkies.” TITUS HARDIE: “You would need good, trustworthy people to take their place, of course. *Hardy* men to run such a monopoly.” He grins. “For the good of the community, of course.”  TITUS HARDIE: “We haven’t *done* anything. But theoretically, it has to be someone’s problem. So it might as well be yours.” He takes a sip of his beer and smiles.   AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] He doesn’t let it show, but must be a little impressed. You’ve put a lot of things together, fast.  ARIST: [Easy: Success] You should probably go talk to Evrart now that you’ve mailed those “signatures.” But first, talk to Klaasje about the missing papers in the buoy.   KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): Her eyes wide. “Oh…” KIM KITSURAGI: “Did you take the documents?” KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “No, of course not. As I said, it would have been too risky for me to use those documents anyway—my employer gave them to me. In truth, I should have destroyed them.”  KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “They couldn’t know where I put it. I’m absolutely sure I was not followed. And I’ve told no one but you… You mentioned sea water? I was worried I’d been too careless with the latch. The documents were probably,” she waves her cigarette, “just washed away…”  ARIST: [Easy: Success] Ugh. How (in)convenient.  ARIST: [Easy: Success] You never actually followed up on that mysterious voice from the intercom. Might as well, you suppose.      ARIST: [Medium: Success] gently caress. Maybe next time.  ARIST: [Medium: Success] On your way to Evrart, you spy the mysterious container once more. You feel a connection on some level to it, so you examine it once more.   ARIST: Your rhetoric will not open this container, that would be absurd, but you might as well try once more as a lark. RHETORIC: Oh yeah, motherfucker?! Wanna bet?!   CARGO CONTAINER DOOR: The door stands silent. KIM KITSURAGI: “Satisfied, detective?” A wry smile crosses the lieutenant’s face.   RHETORIC: BOOM!!!! ARIST: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...     ARIST: [Trivial: Success] What. Arist fucked around with this message at 15:19 on Jul 5, 2020 |
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Jul 4, 2020 19:24
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Arist posted:Let’s just say my two-month absence from this LP was at least partially because I realized that in the wake of the anti-police protests of May and June it would be considered gauche to glamori—no? No one’s buying that? Worth a shot. You did your best, Kim. Too bad we couldn't stick the landing.  Okay, I really need to know what the gently caress our dynamic duo has stumbled into at the end there. I think Harry's sipped one drop too many.
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Jul 4, 2020 22:35
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Supersonic Shine posted:Okay, I really need to know what the gently caress our dynamic duo has stumbled into at the end there. I think Harry's sipped one drop too many. It's just a guy who's so rich that light bends around him. The final boss for Communist Cop. Coppunist.
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Jul 5, 2020 00:05
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Arist posted:KIM KITSURAGI: “Honestly, I’m quite worried by what we’ve seen so far. The evidence seems to point to a rather extensive and well-organized operation. I’m especially intrigued by that radio transmitter—particularly the sheer number of stations it can connect. Looks like this alleged drug trade casts a wide net.” This is missing the actual line from LOGIC (as per the screenshot)
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Jul 5, 2020 14:05
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This might have been my favourite update yet, the writing in this game is so good (though it does seem to have some awkward dialogue re: Ruby I guess because it's possible to find out different information at different times)
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Jul 5, 2020 14:46
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QUOTE IS NOT EDIT, gently caress
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Jul 5, 2020 15:17
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?!
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Jul 5, 2020 21:50
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Yay, it's back!  Also: What the heck?!
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Jul 6, 2020 10:12
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I believe the container guy is peak Disco watch Ruby turn out to be an ex- or something
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Jul 6, 2020 23:44
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Now that I think about it, considering that you use Rhetoric to unlock the door, and Rhetoric is used to have rigorous sociopolitical discourse, and we've been going peak Coppunist, whether that guy is different depending on your political stance. Other playthroughs might have you facing the dirty, unwashed Spirit of Communism. Or a wöman.
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Jul 7, 2020 00:01
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I am still kind of astounded by the variety that shows up in this LP from my play through. Sunday Friend talking about Lely is like 1000% Sunday Friend but I went to talk to him much earlier, before I even confronted the Hardies. And of course, he's only there for a Sunday, so. I wonder if those two Skull wannabes are there to foreshadow that you need to crank your Half-Light. What a shame, but that's your difference in builds.
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Jul 7, 2020 23:11
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| # ? Jun 9, 2024 01:01 |
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Chapter 34: 13:23-13:50: Supply-Side Economics When last we left our cop, he was… look, I don’t actually have any idea what’s happening to our boy Harrier right now. ARIST: [Heroic: Failure] You should probably… investigate? Edge closer to this anomaly, I guess. Oh, wait, what if it’s a black hole?! LOGIC: [Medium: Success] If this was a black hole, you’d already be dead. Or worse. But you definitely need more data. Get closer.  ARIST: [Challenging: Success] …Are you getting richer just from proximity to this guy? Holy poo poo! SAVOIR FAIRE: [Medium: Success] I’d say we should stay as close to this guy as possible, but you know the taxman’s gonna make it hurt. ARIST: Your curiosity is winning out. You need to talk to this guy.  RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Blech.  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: Something’s amiss. The light beams bend around his face and scatter in a thousand directions. It seems the laws of physics do not apply here. They are suspended, distorted, an echo. VISUAL CALCULUS: [Impossible: Failure] Trying to visualize the physics at play is liable to give you an aneurysm. Don’t think about it too hard! Read you loud and clear, devs. No thinky. Understood.  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Welcome! Come in, make yourself at home. Sorry I’m not better able to receive you—I wasn’t expecting visitors today.” PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Trivial: Success] You can’t *hear* him, exactly, yet you’re able to understand every word he says. It is very strange. An overwhelming hum covers everything—voice doesn’t escape from him.  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Who *am* I? Oh, I haven’t been asked that question for such a very long time.” There’s genuine surprise in his voice. “I don’t meet a lot of people outside my circle these days…”     KIM KITSURAGI: “Oh, nothing. It’s just that we’ve got this *murder* to solve, and yet you go around asking everyone about *money*. And every time I ask ‘Are you sure this is related to the case?’ You say, ‘Sure, Kim. I think it is…’ And yet it never seems to get us any closer to solving the case.” MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: The man chuckles. “It’s quite alright. I’m used to the question by now. To be blunt, I inherited my fortune from my grandmother, who, herself, was an extremely high-net-worth individual back in Graad… All I did was take her fortune and invest it prudently. Believe it or not, it takes more than a bit of skill not to blow a vast fortune on sailing boats, bad choices and *unsupervised* state policy.”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: The man exhales with a whistle. “I gotta tell you, at first, being rich is a lot of work. You’ve got to work hard because everything’s so darn expensive. You know, prices increase exponentially at this income level… But then, once you’ve reached my position, it’s nearly impossible for me *not* to make money. My assets are so diversified that I’m bound to come out ahead no matter what…”   MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “*Dozens*, at least. Of course, in the future it’ll all be automated. But my point is this…” he says, jabbing his finger into the air a bit…  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “It is, truly. It’s almost entirely care free.” He nods. “It really leaves you time to better yourself spiritually.”  ARIST: [Legendary: Failure] Oh, right. The whole… light business. You were so entranced by all the *money* you forgot all about it.   MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Oh, *that’s* what you mean. Yes, I’ve heard of this effect, though I’ve never witnessed it myself, of course. It has something to do with our Weiss-Wiesemann coefficient.”  ENCYCLOPEDIA: The Weiss-Wiesemann coefficient for you and this individual appears to be…     KIM KITSURAGI: “I see nothing of the sort. To be frank, all I see is a gentleman who’s unusually well-dressed for Martinaise. In a cargo container. Which, I admit, is odd.”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Travelling! This is a great way to get around—it’s fun, it’s safe, and it gives me lots of time to think…” ARIST: [Legendary: Failure] You are too enamored to question any of those descriptors—even “safe,” which did puzzle you there for the briefest of moments.  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Ah, Revachol. I remember walking its streets as a teenager. There used to be a bowling alley in Stell Maris… I wonder if it’s still there?”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “There simply aren’t enough hours a day to hand out all the handouts. It’s like feeding seagulls. There are always more, and they never seem to do anything interesting with it—except more seagulls.”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Smart, no? It also provides a means to hide from all the targeted advertising we extremely high-net-worth individuals are constantly subjected to…”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Don’t get me wrong: They’re nice things, but once you achieve a certain level of wealth your time and mental space become *much* more important than material goods.”    MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “It’s perfectly alright. Based on your appearance I can tell I’m dealing with a smart man…” As you may know, us high-net-worth individuals do not has a lot of cash on hand. Investments and liquidity are enemies of one another—I think I only have coins for coffee machines.”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “That’s the idea, my friend! You’ve got to work for the rest. Maybe you can make that money grow? Come up with an investment plan? How’s that sound?” EMPATHY: [Challenging: Success] This is a proposal, not a question.   Not a good chance of having a good idea…   And barely any better a chance of having a bad idea. Eh, gently caress it. This should at least be funny.  ...Huh. We failed at having a bad idea, so we had a good idea? That was… totally the plan all along, yes! So smart, I am!  It’s pretty embarrassing that the “present a good plan by incompetently presenting a bad plan” thing almost went full Springtime for Hitler here because we almost rolled *too well*. ARIST: [Challenging: Success] What is it with Martinaise and youth centres??? MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “A youth centre, huh? What *kind* of youth centre?" EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] A place to teach them practical skills like teamwork and self-discipline.  RHETORIC [Easy: Success] I’m disgusted with you. ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s betraying everything we stand for, yadda yadda, it’s gross, whatever. Shut up dude, we’re conning a capitalist!   CONCEPTUALIZATION: You’re deep into ultraliberal territory now. Good work.  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “I don’t normally do this without a formal pitch deck, but to hell with it, what’s the point of being rich if you have to follow all the rules?”  ARIST: [Medium: Success] It’s not, but whatever. Following through was never the goal. Oh, yes, give us those sweet, sweet dollarydoos! MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “Remember: it’s not a *handout*, it’s an investment. And I expect to see returns.” KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant stands there, dumbfounded. His mouth opens slightly, then closes again.  KIM KITSURAGI: “No, I am *not* having a stroke. You’re just… still full of surprises. Most of them bad, but some good…”  MEGA RICH LIGHT-BENDING GUY: “The pleasure was mine. Unfortunately, I must be away soon. The next time we meet, I’ll be expecting an update on my investment!”   Well, that was… something. Let us never speak of this again. Arist fucked around with this message at 23:38 on Aug 13, 2020 |
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Jul 13, 2020 01:08
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