Version City: Intro

Here is my bit of MacGuffin for Cyberpunk: Version City. Let's see.


Version City is the anyplace of the Sprawl. It emerged as a cultural center of the Southern Sprawl to offset Boston's dominance in the north. It is hard to say exactly where it is, though somewhere between Virginia and where Washington once was is a good guess. After the rockings of Washington and New York, America's urban structure had to be completely retooled.
There's Boston in the North, Atlanta in the South, and Version City dead in the middle. Version City was never incorporated under such a name, but it was on the outskirts of the Washington crater, and as the density increased, the punks who lived there named it after the depressing old songs played over PA systems on the decrepit coastal transit trains.
I've gotten a lot of requests, lately, from people asking what happened to all of the old songs...
The obscure Clash tune struck a chord with the depressed commuters in BAMA's nowhere zone, and Version City was born. The corps moved in and tried to reincorporate, but they had no better name for the nowhere zone than the one it had already received. So Version City stuck.
The futility of renaming the city was seen as a clear message: Version City belonged to the punks. They didn't fight, they simply moved in. Graffiti art and thriving underground markets popped up, and suddenly nowhere zone looked more attractive than anywhere within 400 miles. The city sprung up in 10 years, and it didn't take long for it to show up on the map, incorporated, and officially named Version City.

2022 was the year of the edgerunner. Early in the year, New-Wave Pol Punk band The Kamikazes were broken up by the murder of the lead singer, Mike Jima, by the Russian Mob. Through the investigations of now-famous freelance PI Arthur St. Cloud, connections to major media labels competing for the band made headlines, and soon they wanted Arthur dead. This was easier said than done, as Arthur was well-protected both by corporate interests and a cadre of allies, including the "more than a little insane" solo Mike Walker. This caused Biotechnica, a company in competition with the Russian Mob's backers, SovOil, to hire Lars Blackpool to protect St. Cloud. Lars, a self-described "professional murderer", was hardly the most stable choice for the job, though in his 7 years as a mercenary, his record was impressive, and so violent it was disturbing. He wasn't without injuries, although he had cybered up significantly since a stint of work on the West Coast with famous Yakuza fixer Nori Takahashi. Lars was, most importantly, bribeable, and he turned on St. Cloud, leaving the job to find out why the Kamikazes were so important. By the time Arthur tracked Lars down, the surviving members of the Kamikazes were dead, and Arthur had lost his corporate support. Lars played tag with Arthur, but finally struck, using another rock star, the famous stoner DJ Ruff, as bait. The ambush was set, and Lars and two other mercs broke up the party, injuring Arthur significantly, and killing the two techs who accompanied Arthur and Mike. Mike, the only one who walked away, swore revenge on Lars, but Lars disappeared into the midwest. Within the past two weeks, Mike was found murdered, apparently caught asleep and beheaded with what appeared to be several shotgun blasts. Lars, with the shotgun in hand, was found dead in an airport bathroom in Version City, hundreds of miles away from the location of Mike's murder in Boston. Lars was considered the most dangerous assassin in the country for nearly a year during his manhunt, and now, someone in Version City killed him without even a lookover. The only leads in this case are Arthur St. Cloud, due to be released from the Mass. General Hospital Trauma Ward in a week's time, and DJ Ruff, currently in hiding in his "Grotto of Ganja" rumoured to be outside of Vancouver. In the meanwhile, Biotechnica, Arasaka, and ADC, Blackpool's former employers, have refused to comment on any knowledge of the identity of the assassin, or his methods or motives.

Session 12

Our heroes reached the one bastion of civilization they could find in the Underdark. For better or worse, it was a city of Derro, where everyone was insane. Very insane. However, the leader seemed sane and reasonable. That was, until he asked the adventurers to find his glowy-stick. Several random encounters later, our heroes are still looking for the glowy stick. Just then...darkness shrouds the entire cave (odd, isn't it?) and there is maniacal laughter from behind. Just when you thought it couldn't possibly get any worse...Locke has returned as a vampire. Great. Of course, after a pitched battle and lots of negative levels, he disappears into vapour. However, the mystery of how a previously dead man became a vampire is adding to the increasingly long list of odd happenings that could be linked to the end of the world as we know it...

Sessions 10 and 11

After much deliberation, our heroes decide to take on the ogres threatening the city of Daen. The battle starts well, with many ogres and monsters dying, but went south quickly. Our heroes then wake up, very sore and much lighter, in a prison cell, where they are soon transferred to a prison ship. After some quick planning, the heroes overtake the crew of mind flayers, ogres, and trolls upon reaching the ship's destination. This destination, unfortunately, is an underground river deep within the underdark. After soliciting some "assistance" from a lone drow, our heroes realize that the surface world could be a month's walk out....

Session 9

The reappearance of the Order of the Talon did not make anything simpler for our Heroes. Off to Barth in search of answers, Sorvel finds a fortune in his name, his sister gone, and a possible familial connection to the sand witch that had been seen before. After catching a senile wizard a fish, seeing Darvian make grown men cry with his music, and generally witnessing more mayhem, no one really knows what is going on. Apparently the order of the Talon appear at random points in history. And apparently there is a cult, the styled Cult of the Void, who wants to destroy the material plane and all life with it...

Project Symbiote, Part 3

Comments are welcome!

It had been about 3 days since our evening fiasco with June. After the initial tests and upgrades which were by now very familiar to me, June was released back to her parents, who were never even aware she was gone. I did understand what the man meant by diagnostics, so I was now assigned to go to Oakdale High every day and meet up with June. The first two times were relatively quick and quiet, with June slipping by the bench I sat by outside the school, and then just as easily slipping away. Today was Wednesday, and the third time I needed to do this. June slipped out and came toward the park bench, and I used the hand scanner over the concealed node in her neck. Everything was progressing normally, which I suppose was a good thing. Today, instead of just slipping back, she sat down next to me.

“Max, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been involved with these people?”

“About a week now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I made it half way through my freshman year of college without even knowing I had anything to do with this. Now that I know, so many things make sense, personally.”

“I dunno…I mean, some of the stuff fits, but most doesn’t really make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you and Liz were both at the top of your class, and had some odd, though not unnatural talents. All that happened to me was that my entire school class just turned their back on me.”

“Well, you were smart, right?”

“Well, yeah…but that didn’t help anything. I never seemed to make friends.”

“No one liked you?”

“Not even that…I just could never trust anyone. It seemed that everyone was either jealous or just seemed off…I never got it. I was always on the outside. For some reason…for some reason, you and Liz just seem trustworthy. I don’t know” My face blanched. I had a sudden realization, and suddenly, the little balding man seemed like a right bastard. I could only hope I was wrong…but in hoping, somehow I knew I wasn’t. June looked at me, and smiled.

“I’m glad you guys pulled me out. I have no idea what would’ve happened otherwise.” She put her arm around my shoulder, and drew closer. For one reason or another, I was very uncomfortable. The thought of what this project had done to her personality was worse than disturbing. And to make matters worse, I knew that I was the last person in the world who should be the only one to trust, for absolutely anyone. I couldn’t help but put my arm around her as well. But I really didn’t know what I was going to do.

I got back to the complex, fuming. I stormed into Dr. Davidson’s office, pushing aside a well-meaning nurse into a small bookshelf.

“What the hell did you do to June?”

“A lot. Same with you, same with Liz. What do you mean?”

“Well, who’s brilliant idea was it to have loyalty programming? That could’ve been seriously psychologically damaging.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be. She was actually only supposed to distrust those who were modified by someone other than our project. The programming wasn’t complete for #55, so the last 5 subjects got the prototype, where they only trusted our agents.”

“You put untested tech…in children?! You’re sick.”

“Well, how else were we supposed to do it?”

“Why did you need this goddamn experiment anyway?”

“You will find out in due time. Just keep one thing in mind. June needs to be able to trust you. If that’s established, we can modify the code and rectify things.”

“I’m not terribly worried about what happens next…”

“Really?”

“I’m more worried about what’s already happened to the poor girl for the last 18 years.” I walked out of the office without waiting for a response, and plugged my player back into the headjack. Any pleas that Dr. Davidson made were immediately drowned out by synth guitars and guttural german. The last thing I needed to do was worry about what thing these people were going to have me do next. The only real comfort in this was that if Liz and I turned out ok, everyone before us was in a better position. So I guess only one full life had been ruined by this insanity.

Project Symbiote, Part 2

More Project Symbiote for your reading pleasure. Comments are Welcome!

I woke up, my head awash with a combination of throbbing pain and a good deal of light sensitivity. The room was just as dark as I left it when I passed out. Of course, I quickly realized that there really isn’t much sun underground. I groped the back of my neck, and indeed the metal protrusion had receded. The light in the room quickly went on, and I reached for the other Mountain Dew in my bag. My hand was slapped away, and I looked up to see Liz’s shock of red hair directly in my face.

“Caffeine isn’t going to help anything. It’s 5 in the afternoon.”

“I was asleep for 14 hours?”

“Well, yeah…you were processing huge sym uptake. It doesn’t happen instantly. Anyways, we’re going out tonight.”

“Huh? Where?” Liz was upfront, but this was odd.

“That’s not what I meant, dude. Us two need to go find another symbiote subject.” Oh. That made more sense.

“Oh. Well, why do we need to do that?”

“Because they’re telling us to.”

“Great reasoning there.” I finally got out of bed, and stumbled around, trying to get a shirt out of my bed. The zombie theatrics went on for about 3 minutes, until I realized that out of the corner of my eye, Liz was staring at my bare chest. I glared at her, she smiled sheepishly, and I finally managed to get a shirt on. On the table next to the bed, I noticed a pistol. It was larger than my Glock, but more importantly, it had a cord extending out of the butt from behind the magazine feed. The end of the cord plugged nicely into the third plug in my wrist, the one that was neither a USB port or a headphone jack. Headphone jack…I reached into the bag and plugged in the mp3 player. As the bass throbbed beautifully clearly through my mastoid, I realized with some chagrin that I could still perfectly hear things going on around me if the volume was low enough. Which would actually be a benefit, I suppose, but being shut out is nice too. Well, Liz had more to say, and despite what Mr. Leeb’s synthesizers were doing in my jaw, I could still hear her well.

“Max, they’ll tell us what’s going on when we brief. In the meantime, I got you some dinner.” Indeed, there was a tray of nondescript food on the desk at the other corner of the room. And Liz herself was still holding another tray of nondescript food. We got our nondescript food and sat down around the desk. Much quiet chewing ensued, until my curiosity finally defeated my fear of awkwardness.

“Liz, exactly who were the other guys in the car last night?”

“They were just other guys from the program. Just mercs.”

“So there aren’t any other Symbiotes at the University, right?”

“Yeah. There aren’t many others around the area, except for this girl we have to pick up, and she’s in high school.”

“I thought the scientist dude said they were all college students.”

“Well, yeah, most of them are. The very last subjects in the line tests would be high school seniors, though.”

“Oh, okay.” More quiet chewing ensued. The food was really nondescript in every way possible, including texture and taste, which, instead of being bland, made it kind of horrifying. But hey, I was hungry and tired, so it really didn’t make a huge difference. We both finished the remainder of the hospital food dinner in silence, and then picked up the trays. Liz headed toward where I assumed the kitchen or nearest equivalent was, so I followed. She did indeed lead us to some odd galley, and I put the tray in a pile of dirty trays there. We then left, and went back down the concrete hallway. About 300 feet down, she stopped, turned around, and startled me with a bear hug.

“I’m glad you’re here, Max. I really didn’t like being here with no one I knew.”

“Well, they distracted you with these missions, right?”

“Actually, no…they just brought me in here 3 times last year to run tests…it felt like being put in an institution. They treat you like an experiment…but Dr. Davidson seems to like you. You showed him that you were at least an experiment with a wit.” I chuckled.

“I guess I like him too. At least he has good taste in soda.” Liz rolled her eyes, and we walked back to the room in lifted spirits. Considering the situation, that was definitely saying a lot.

We were called to the briefing that Liz had mentioned about an hour later, after I figured out how to use the touchpad on my laptop without actually touching it. It was an amusing experiment, which Liz forwarded by changing all of my bookmarks to porn and taping the laptop to my hands. It only took me 47 minutes to change them back, impressive considering I didn’t actually have use of my hands. Typing would be a whole other thing, though. The briefing room was just like all of the other rooms, small, concrete, and filled with electronic gizmos that even I couldn’t identify. Dr. Davidson and one other small man I hadn’t seen before were at the front of the room. The small man adjusted his graying comb over, and began to speak.

“All right. Now, you too have more in common than your school and your neighborhood. Both of you were part of test line #55, one of the more influential lines, and also the second to last line to be used. What we need you to do, Subjects 563 and 578, is to retrieve subject 599, the last #55 subject, and probably the most influential subject that survived the experiment.”

“Uh, I’m hearing 563, 578, 599…how the hell did you number these things?” The small man glared at me, but Dr. Davidson calmed him down.

“Max, the numbering was odd, but we’re scientists, so that shouldn’t be surprising. The 12 lines were numbered up from #00 to #60. #05 was a control test, so there are only 12 lines, despite what math may tell you. All of the lines ran simultaneously, and we tested 50 subjects in every line. With the exception of #00 and #05, the number of genetic, nanomechanical and cybernetic modifications were increased. So, you three, including this woman you must retrieve, are the most genetically modified human beings on earth.” I fell out of my chair at that moment. Liz would have stared at me, but she had just crushed the plastic cup she was holding in between her fingers.

“What about #60? And what about the other #55s?”

“All dead. The reason #55 was successful was not only because it actually had survivors, but because you rejected the fewest modifications. Max, you and June…oh yes, the woman you will be rescuing is named June, are the only two human beings who didn’t reject direct cybernetic modification. Unfortunately, when we perfected our method of installation, all we could do was tactile support and the mastoidal implants. So, despite the nice reflexive targeting thingy you can do with the gun, your implant is essentially a glorified mouse and mp3 player.”

“Thingy, Dr. Davidson?”

“We had this chat, Max. Come on. Anyway. June’s modification was more subtle, but much more powerful. Her neural-stem processor was programmed to interface with a very complicated set of algorithms that tap into her hippocampal symbiotes. Essentially, she can do reflexive learning by downloading movie files off of a computer.”

“In other words, don’t let her see Enter The Dragon.”

“Well, that’s what we want to see. We don’t know if it worked, but there’s a chance that she can start reflex subroutines just from watching them, whereas you and Liz would need it either hardwired, or need some starting training to get it to take off.”

“And what does this reflexive learning do, exactly?” I was not following this. Dr. Davidson was still a master of the jargon.

“Max, did you ever wonder how learned how to fire a gun?”

“Yeah…I don’t really remember ever being taught, just going to ranges since I was about 8.”

“You were taught a reflexive subroutine in a programming test when you were 2. You’ve been a crack shot ever since.”

“Dude, that’s fucked up.”

“That’s kind of why we’re worried about June. You see, you two, until we juiced you, could never have done anything superhuman with your abilities. Maybe appear gifted, or shoot a gun really well, but those aren’t exactly extraordinary in and of themselves. We actually were never sure what all of the modifications June had did…since she was the last #55, we thought we’d test the full range in the #60 series. Unfortunately, no one in #60 series survived long enough for us to figure out what the long term implications were.”

“In English?” This time it was Liz who was a little ticked.

“We have no idea what has happened to June since we released her to her parents 15 years ago.” Liz and I looked at each other.

“But you know she’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“What have her parents said?”

“We, uh…haven’t actually been in contact with them since Liz was 13. She attempted suicide at that time, and her parents cut us out of the loop, blaming the experiments. They may not be completely wrong, either.” Liz piped up again.

“Did you ever consider there were ethical implications to this?” The small man butted in.

“Remember, we basically ended up killing 300 babies. One angsty teenager was probably the best we could have hoped for given the situation. Thank God the syms can be stepped down…none of the other survivors have had this issue, and they are all older than June at present. Anyway, before we can get further off track, we need you to understand that June’s parents want nothing to do with the experiment. I know that both of you were taken by surprise, but June’s parents do not want her involved. We do not know what they will do if you associate yourself with the NSA or Project Symbiote. So don’t. Use whatever methods necessary to succeed. And trust me, 60 billion dollars in funding says that you know what that is better than I do. Now, the car will take you into Oakdale in about 15 minutes. Good luck.” Liz looked at me, and I looked back. We were getting into some deep shit. That, at the very least, was immediately apparent.

Before we knew it, we were walking down Sunnyside Avenue in pristine Oakdale. Oakdale was a tract housing suburb, and despite the relative wealth of the region, it scared the living crap out of me. Actually, the relative wealth probably was what scared the crap out of me. We got to the address, and stood outside, pretending to admire the moon. There was some yelling from the house. It was mostly indistinguishable, but we both made out the words “makeup”, “slut”, and “Friday”.

“Uh-oh.” This looked like it would be interesting.

“So, how do we extract her if she’s grounded?” Liz was posing a very valid question, though one I did not particularly feel like actually considering. After about 5 minutes, the lights in the house went out, except for one light on the second floor. I surmised this was June’s room, though from what logic I was not immediately sure. The idea that popped into my head that very moment was brilliant.

“I have a plan.”

“Oh God. Fine, but only you are climbing into the window.” Damn. Liz knew me very, very well.

June was in her room, sitting at her laptop. As she wrote another mournful entry into her weblog, her eyes turned quickly to the pile of discarded razor blades on the other side of the desk. Fighting tears, she turned away from the desk, and lay down on the bed, her blue-streaked brown hair matted against her face.

“All I need is a guy and a way out of here,” she sniffled. She wrapped her big sweatshirt closer around her, and lay silent for a moment. Suddenly, there was a pop. June looked over, and noticed that the window lock had popped off its hinge again.

“Fucking house is falling apart…” What happened next was not expected, though. Namely, I happened next. The climb up the vertical wall was actually very easy, but squeezing through the window was interesting. So, I ended up on the floor, holding the knee that I had hit on the way up, and cursing as profanely and as quietly as possible. June was standing there, staring at me, eyes wide open. I got up, made sure everything was still attached, adjusted my coat, and looked at her.

“June, I know this seems very strange, but we don’t have much time. We need to get out of here. I’m sure that I can explain-“ The ensuing bearhug was very familiar, despite June being somewhat smaller in height than Liz.

“It’s like my dreams are coming true…”

“Don’t get too enthusiastic.” About then, the weight of June holding on to my midsection started to really affect my balance. In fact, it affected my balance all the way back out the window.

Now, if you’ve never fallen down stairs, or fallen on your back from height, I can explain what it does very succinctly. It knocks the wind out of you. So, as Liz copied my speech to June, I was rolling around on the ground, gasping for air, and swearing, as quietly but as profanely as possible. The car rounded the cul-de-sac, and the three of us started walking towards the car, though I was walking slightly more slowly, and a lot more dramatically. We piled into the backseat, and the car drove off. The driver once again looked through the rearview mirror.

“Damn, Max, you look like someone punched you in the gut. Whose plan was that?”

“M-M-Mine…”

“Oh. Figures. Well, I suppose it worked. Kind of.”

“Look. The fall was…*gasp*…not part of the plan. Not at all.” I was just about breathing normally again, which was a relief. A cell phone rang, and the man in the front passenger seat picked his up. After a brief word, he handed it to me. It was the same man who gave the briefing.

“I have secured you and Liz’s release from the university. We will provide for the remainder of your education, so don’t worry about that. We do have an issue, though, and this issue will be your next assignment. June’s 18^th birthday is in two weeks, and we cannot emancipate her from her parents until she is 18. Therefore, we will have to monitor the progress of her upgrades while she is in her parents’ custody. She is to meet you during the school day for the next two weeks, and you will perform a small diagnostic, which is easy and discreet. So, unfortunately, you are not yet rid of Oakdale. But, I promise, you will have plenty to do. More on that when you return.” He hung up the phone, which I handed back to the man in front. That small man sure didn’t make answers very well, but he was damn good at making new questions.

Project Symbiote, Part 1

This is a new story I am writing. Not sure how long it'll be. That'll happen as I write it. Please leave comments and suggestions!

The room had gotten very quiet since night had fallen. Rich was sitting at his computer, the screen shining back into his vacant eyes. I was sitting on the bed, eyeing my phone nervously and listening to Front 242 on a nondescript digital player. When the phone started vibrating, I essentially fell out of the bed. Rich looked over for a second, rolled his eyes, then got back to playing whatever game it was he was playing. I finally managed to fumble the phone to my ear.

“Wha-a?”

“We need to go. Get your stuff.” The caller hung up. I was kind of expecting Liz, but that was definitely a guy on the other end. Maybe this whole thing had gotten bigger than I thought. I slipped my laptop and the tangle of accompanying cables into my bag, along with a leather-bound journal and two mountain dews. Then, I reached under my mattress, and pulled out the Glock I had been saving. At this point, I wasn’t really sure if I’d need it, but one can never be too safe. The three clips hidden in my hollowed-out course catalog were full, of course, so I slipped them into the bag as well. Rich saw one of the ACP rounds, and screwed up his face accordingly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll have the room to yourself tonight.” I put on my coat and left before he even got out another word.

It was the time of the year where it was getting cold outside, but that was hardly an issue. I walked down by the quad, and saw the small car parked in the turnaround. I approached cautiously, but Liz pulled me into the backseat before I even had a chance to see who else was there. By the time I looked around, we were speeding down the road, and already the surroundings were unfamiliar.

“So hang on. What is going on?”

“Something, I’ll say that much.” Liz was never much for talking, and when she did, you either wished she didn’t, or that she at least said something understandable.

“All right then…say, you never told me why the hell you wanted me involved in this. I would’ve kind of preferred to stay home and study. I have a physics exam tomorrow…” The driver looked through the rear-view mirror with dangerous eyes.

“Trust me. Physics is the last thing you have to worry about.” I looked up long enough to notice we were on the interstate. I had a sinking feeling no studying would occur this weekend.

The car slowed down, and pulled into a clearing on the side of the road. Everyone got out, and Liz pulled me out accordingly, despite my attempt to get out on my own. She was impatient…but I had known that. Three men carrying guns emerged from the woods, and looked us over. The one in the middle looked at me.

“You’re Max, right?” I nodded, though confused.

“All right. Come with us. The rest of you, wait here. We’ll be back in an hour.” The man grabbed me by the forearm, and led me quickly through the woods. We got to a small cabin about ten minutes later, though it looked very dark, and very quiet. One of the other men opened the door, and then motioned for us to follow. The cabin was completely unfurnished, though there was a sewer grate in the middle of the floor, which was very strange. The first man opened the grate, and the rest of us were beckoned downward.

About forty feet down, the ladder ended, and we were greeted by dim lighting, and a fairly dry sewer tunnel. The men walked down the tunnel, and I followed accordingly, having no idea what was going on. Finally, we approached a small room, where four other men in lab coats stood, looking bored.

“We have him.”

“Are you sure this is sample 563?”

“We do have to conduct the conduit testing.” I had no idea what they were talking about, which made me worried. The anxiety compounded when I saw one of the men in lab coats bring out a small cabinet covered in electrical equipment. One of the men handed me a pill and a glass of water. I looked at the pill, and then looked at him.

“You swallow it. It isn’t that hard.” I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, but decided to swallow the thing anyway. Almost immediately, my arms and legs felt very itchy. This was not cool. It got worse. By the time I knew what was going on, I woke back up. The pain throughout my body was evident, and judging by the dull body throb, I had a feeling it was worse when I was passed out. What made my anxiety worse was when I felt the metallic protrusion from the back of my neck. The men in lab coats were murmuring, and I could hear snippets of the conversation.

“…implant nodes….reflexive algorithms…maintenance amplification…” I was horribly confused. Well, that was an understatement.

“Max, are you awake?” I slowly nodded, still prodding the thing on my neck.

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll hook it up to the modules, but it will recede below your skin about three hours after we’re done. So will the nerve conduits.” I screwed up my face, and the man in the lab coat pointed to my wrist. Indeed, there were small protrusions on my wrist, similar to the one on my neck. The one on my left wrist, however, had a USB port.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” I was freaked out. I could hook my mp3 player into my wrist, which was not a pleasant idea.

“This, Max, is Project Symbiote. You were one of 600 children who were implanted with symbiotic nanoagents during your infancy.”

“600 kids? What the hell have you people been doing? Is there some secret army I’m about to join?”

“Hardly. Out of those 600, only about 75 survived past age 3. The rest died from immune complications resulting from the nanoagents. There were two lines that were particularly successful, and those were the initial #00 experiments and the block of #55, of which you are one.”

“Uh…cool?”

“Well, there’s an issue with this, which is why we’re now retrieving the Symbiote kids from college campuses.”

“Huh.” The researcher looked at me.

“You’re definitely taking this a little….easier than most of your colleagues. You and your other friend.”

“You mean Liz? She’s in this too?”

“Yes…we got her about a year ago, and she reacted very similarly.”

“That’s not too surprising. She’s a computer geek and I’m a gadget nerd. We’ve all read Gibson.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What, you haven’t read Gibson?”

“No, but it’s odd only you two came out this way.”

“And it’s a coincidence we know each other. Well, looks like we settled the nature and nurture debate.” The researcher just stared at me. The pain had subsided, so I hopped off the operating table and reached for my bag. I pulled out a Mountain Dew, and began drinking. Something unpleasantly cold prodded my neck, but that didn’t keep me from my caffeine. I reflexively looked at my watch. 3 Am. No wonder the Dew felt so good.

“I’ve just hooked up your node to an extension module. Now that we need you, we need you to be topped up.”

“A what?”

“Extension module. Basically, we’re topping off what your syms have already done.”

“Syms?”

“Symbiotes.”

“Oh. What have they already done?”

“The symbiotes allow your hippocampus to emulate RNA-style learning. Essentially, they augment your ability to learn stuff.”

“Stuff? Very scientific.”

“We’re only human, Max.” I snickered. The man swiped my dew, took a swig, and then gave it back. I glared, but he just smiled. I suppose I knew who was a geek at heart here.

“So what are you plugging into me, if these sym things can already do that?”

“Some subroutines and a couple little cool things most of our other subjects have enjoyed.

“Uh…dare I ask?”

“Well, mostly just little modules that improve your reflexes, extend your vision threshold, and increase your sensitivity to reflexive learning.”

“Which means…?”

“They make you awesome.”

“You’re sounding less and less like a scientist, dude.”

“Well, yeah. But the other things are tactile and auditory hookups.”

“Tact- to what now?” This guy was confusing me.

“Well, you can use the USB port in your arm to use computers without keyboard and mouse, and use the other jack to listen to music.”

“In my head?”

“Yup.”

“Is there an equalizer?”

“Yup.”

“I love you.” Damn. This guy knew how to win me over. “So, why are we here, anyway?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll see?”

“You’ll see.” After another twenty minutes, he unplugged the probe, and led me to another small room, with a bed. They had taken my bag briefly after I got my dew, and it was sitting on the bed, apparently untampered with. I rifled through, but found my Glock was missing. I suppose being disarmed wasn’t so surprising. It had only been an hour since I had that dew, but the caffeine was already starting to wear off. Liz was standing at the door, something I didn’t notice before, probably because of the crash.

“So, we’re experiments. Cool, huh?”

“Uh…sure. Why are we here?”

“Beats the hell out of me, but after they picked me up, they told me this was going to happen. So I’m not terribly surprised.”

“Yeah. You certainly didn’t act it.”

“Well, yeah…but tomorrow we may be doing something crazy. So I’d get some sleep.” Liz moved out of the door way, and closed the door behind her. I fell on to the bed, and almost immediately started to fuzz out. I guess I had a little more to worry about than the physics at this point.

Version City: The Mills

Well, I'm finally going to do some writing on my Version City setting for CP2020. Chances are, I'm going to write outward as players explore the city, but I already have the neighborhood where they start out pretty much ready. Here goes...

The Mills district is somewhat inaccurately named, but it at least appears correct. The Mills is the neighborhhod surrounding the South River, And the river is indeed flanked on both sides by large brick buildings that, though they look like mills, were used mostly as warehousing after the city's fire scare, when the economy was still too unstable for the insurers to guarantee immediate compensation. Now, the buildings are filled with trendy clubs and bars on the north bank, and are either abandoned or occupied semi-legally on the south bank. As a result, the two bridges that lead to the south highways over the river are police patrolled 24 hours a day, and actually roadblocked between the hours of 10pm and 6am. Not surprisingly, The Mills are the southernmost portion of Downtown Version City, and the South End Combat Zone begins about 6 blocks south of the river.
There is one establishment on the south bank, the somewhat properly named bar, Firefight. The bar is a common gang meeting place, since generally the city police are too scared to cross the bridge, and the corporate cops have had no reason to come down that far yet. The gangs that exist are primarily neighborhood groups that are, unless provoked, not terribly troublesome, mostly selling small quantities of marijuana and amyl nitrate.
There is one exception, though an amusing one. The South Lords are a gang of kids, mostly lower-middle class to upper-middle class, who group together to slum in the South End. They harass the homeless, and the nomads who pass through the city will beat up virtually anyone they see with the Lords' trademark bleached hair as a matter of principle. The kids are all white, which makes them easy to spot in the South End, where the neighborhood is not only diverse, but also very poor. Spoiled white kids slumming, not suprisingly, are not terribly dangerous, though you will find them in large groups.
The Mills are a popular hangout for all sorts of kids, not just low-brow posers like the Lords. Juvers go to the North Bank for both the numerous hangouts, and the dangerous air it lends by its proximity to gang territory.
Locations of Note: 7th St Bridge, Firefight, North Bank Mall, Trier Tavern, Sushi-Aki Pan-Asian Restaurant

Session 8

After handily defeating the ogres, our heroes set down for the night. And, as all good campsites have, this one had an ambush lying in wait at around 1 in the morning. Fortunately, the ogres who attacked the party had vital information. The map the adventurers found led them right to the ogre's canyon hideout. Sort of. The point on the map turned out to be a big flat field, which was not just a little confusing. However, after some poking, prodding, and "detect magic", our heroes found their way down into the crevasse. At the entrance, the guards were not ogres. In fact, they were humans, wearing the same flaming talon insignia our heroes had seen many times before...

Session 7

Our heroes returned the artifact to Balinor, and the crisis of Helios was averted. Told there was little to do but wait, the adventurers left the city, not knowing what would happen next. However, something did happen next. Two orcs found Enkanthu, and informed him of a new crisis facing his tribe. Our heroes opted to aid their compatriot, and all headed through a portal to the Tropica jungle. Informed of the issue with ogres, our heroes followed Enkanthu, enthusiastically tracking the ogres through the jungle. Our heroes found said ogres, and Enkanthu planned a daring sneak attack. However, ignoring all reason and common sense, Darvian emerged to negotiate with the ogres. Even more surprisingly, he succeeded, unaware that a common show of newfound ogre companionship is...ermmm...unpleasant. Fortunately, Enkanthu and Sorvel took advantage of the ogre's stupidity, and handed their heads to them in mortal combat. The battle ensued, with all heroes killing with much jubilance, except for Galstaff, who pretty much stood and watched, and maybe cast one or two spells, and Darvian, who was busy being...."grappled". Standing in many juicy puddles of ogre blood, our heroes composed themselves and headed on their way, eager to find the ogre's mysterious ringleader...

Session 6

After descending into the depths below Helios, our heroes found many monsters and traps, leading into a labyrinth protecting the mysterious artifact after which they had sought. Finding the hidden treasure room, the artifact was found by the evil sand witch, in addition to our heroes. After a pitched battle, where Adun was stolen away by some mythical beast, the sand witch escaped. Adun then returned with apocalyptic visions of the future. Unsure what to make of it, our Heroes return to Balinor, only hoping they made the right decision...

Session 4,5 (condensed)

After returning from a strange trip in an alternate dimension, Sorvel rejoins our heroes to find them in a sticky situation. For reasons that were resolved in session 3, Gustaf, a f---ing insane cleric, wants to loose an undead army on the city of Helios! This will clearly not stand, and our heroes, along with mighty lieutenant Roy Mustang, go after Gustaf with gusto. Before the battle, confusions of identity and other things introduce a new mercenary to the group. Panjii, a gnomish fighter, astride her flowery pony (or at least named as such) and ready to add another lance to the collective box of doom our heroes prepare to unleash. Rather unfortunately, when our heroes do meet Gustaf, they also meet his 100 skeletal minions, which really is not cool. After a pitched battle and a lot of death, our heroes dispatch Gustaf, only to find a whole horde of skeletons escaped. Helios' magic barrier is compromised, and cultists and mercenaries pour into the outermost sections of the city. The prince of Helios which our heroes had escorted earlier has suspect ties with these cultists, making any chance of negotiating lost. Balinor, a Helian general who has helped our heroes before, has a daring plan: the artifact which keeps Helios aloft must be retrieved, and then the city can be saved. Our heroes descend into the depths below Helios, ready to face what will most likely be traps (DC25 to spot) and vile beasts (CR6)....