Six
Guseppe
Six’s father loves messing with mechanical things. He has his own garage where he is more than happy to tinker with anything that friends brings to him, as long as the costs are covered, his time is free.
Nunzio
The black sheep of the family, Nunzio has a degree of influence in the local mafia operations. He looks out for his family, but having been disowned when he made his choices he doesn’t keep close contact.
Kitty
Six’s rock through his troubled times. She hangs with a slightly different crowd of Street Racers and she keeps an ear out for any information that can get her boyfriend his car back.
Ash
Heckley
Heckley runs the Oakhouse, a small nightclub based in the Richmond district of San Francisco. The Oakhouse has become the place to be on an evening out in San Fran, with many famous live bands have performed within her diminutive lounge.
Leon
A sergeant in the Military Police, he spends most of his time thinking up the next scheme to make a quick buck. His present operation is bootleg tobacco and whisky.
Taylor
Dock operations manager. Nothing gets by this man without his say so, no ship docks, no cargo is unloaded without his say so. Rumour has it that he can be persuaded to turn a blind eye. Have you seen his new house in Diamond Heights?
Quin
Dealer to the Masses, Quin is the man who can find the substance you need. Well connected within the Mafia he is able to source the most hardcore BTL’s or the most headbanging narcotics, and he supplies some people you wouldn’t expect.
Zack
The story of Zack is a sorry one. A navy seal with a promising career was made the scapegoat for an incident, which remains classified. He turned Mercenary, and was hung out to dry on his first operation. He was arrested for crimes he did not commit and did hard time. A bitter man, he now helps anyone with enough money.
Daisy
Ash’s Sister, Daisy is the brains of the bunch. Graduated from tech-college she is a computer hacker par excellence. She finds the work and puts Ash on the case.
Drifter
Alexsy Gubarev
The fixer from Irkutsk. Said to be Ex KGB, said to have San Francisco lone star in his pocket, said to never sleep. Whatever the truth about this man, one thing is true; he has access to, or knows people who have access to anything, from anywhere. For a price of course.
Sgt. Karl Luther
Karl Luther is a Lieutenant in the EDF (Euro Defence Force), with a stern haircut and a powerful barking voice, you would be hard pressed to believe that he is kind, friendly and a secretly rebellious man who likes to fuck the system every now and then.
Desmond
Owner of Desmond’s Store. The store and adjoining coffee shop is where many a conversation takes place, and no one ever notices the shopkeeper. Desmond is a good source for local information and he quietly boasts about his high tech surveillance suite he has hooked up to his premises.
Ono
Kurokawa Masato
Masato-san, Ono’s tutor, moved to San Francisco a few years before his student followed him. He trains selected students privately in the martial arts, and has trailed and inspired some very interesting people in his new country.
Ki-Rin
Corporal Alfredo Mancini
A slightly over zealous half Italian man with a penchant for heavy weapons, also a capable commando. He is still in the Marines, and is very good friends with Jonny.
Private First-Class Michael Thorpe
A clever but combat shy New Englander. As Comms operator he is an expert in most things electrical. His flair for organization has had him posted at the Supply Wing based out of Nevada. Every now and then he gets the train to San Fran with Henry Fillacetti to hook up with Jonny for a game of cards.
Private First-Class Henry Fillacetti “Flash”
A happy go lucky young marine, with a can-do attitude. He has a slightly worrying fondness for explosives, though this has only been to his advantage so far. Keep him away from the C12 though!
Private First-Class Harrison McKensie
A talented pilot, not so confident on the ground, but if it flies then Harrison can pilot it. He now runs a private cargo and civilian short flights company out of Sacramento.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
The Players Contacts
in no particular I would like to introduce the characters contacts. These NPC’s will guide the players through the tumultuous times in San Francisco.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
They call him the Drifter...
By N.Macpherson
Born on his parents farm in New Jersey Sam Ferrier lead a very normal farm boy childhood, working hard on his school and college work, helping his father with chores around the farm and loving his mothers cooking.
During his mid teens Sam realised there must be more to life than working on the farm.. He started researching into different career paths and wanted to make a difference, deciding that working for the government would be the best place to do this.
Sam started to slack on his chores around the farm and started putting all he could into his college work, passing all his projects and exams he graduated top of his class and immediately applied to the NSA as a security investigator, his grades and his enthusiasm allowed him several interviews and on his 21st birthday received his employment starter information. Finally he could make that difference.
Flying through all his basic training he was put through more and more intense weapons and combat training. Three years had passed since his original start date when he received a government sealed envelope. In this envelope were instructions on his first appointment.
NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
Serial: L6789-54
CENTRAL SECURITY SERVICE
Congratulations on completion of your training, with effect of 2nd January 2064 you will be assigned to Investigation Unit 2914-01.
You are to immediately cease contact with friends and family and report to office RT56.
Unsigned
Unsure as to contact his parents or not he decided to report as requested. What followed was a highly classified and intense overseas mission, proving himself time and time again as the perfect marksman and investigator he was quickly promoted. With his new appointment came money, with this money and investments from the agency he upgraded himself with cyberware to enhance his capabilities and hopefully his career.
Two years later he was transferred and titled Col. Sam Ferrier with the purpose of overseeing the newly formed Paranormal Task Force. He has never spoke about what happened during this time and it is highly CLASSIFIED but many rumours suggest that he was in charge of ensuring paranormals were taken to the brink of extinction. He decided what they were doing was very wrong and whilst on a mission in Germany he just disappeared. On paperwork Sam is officially listed as 'Missing in Action, Presumed Dead' since the task force’s first mission. But he knows he is now hunted.
Sam used his contacts in Germany to assist him in getting back to America, knowing he needs to stay away from Washington and as unknown as possible he began to run the shadows of San Francisco.. Working for small corporations as an assassin he now goes by the name of Drifter. He never tells anyone his real name and if anyone were to ever call him by it he’d know the agency were on to him.
In tune with his surroundings Col. Sam Ferrier (Drifter) seems to be calm during any combat situation, this is due to the tough training he received during his time before the project, he is trained highly in weapons combat he is able to use any type of weapon in any situation.
Born on his parents farm in New Jersey Sam Ferrier lead a very normal farm boy childhood, working hard on his school and college work, helping his father with chores around the farm and loving his mothers cooking.
During his mid teens Sam realised there must be more to life than working on the farm.. He started researching into different career paths and wanted to make a difference, deciding that working for the government would be the best place to do this.
Sam started to slack on his chores around the farm and started putting all he could into his college work, passing all his projects and exams he graduated top of his class and immediately applied to the NSA as a security investigator, his grades and his enthusiasm allowed him several interviews and on his 21st birthday received his employment starter information. Finally he could make that difference.
Flying through all his basic training he was put through more and more intense weapons and combat training. Three years had passed since his original start date when he received a government sealed envelope. In this envelope were instructions on his first appointment.
NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
Serial: L6789-54
CENTRAL SECURITY SERVICE
Mr S. Ferrier
Congratulations on completion of your training, with effect of 2nd January 2064 you will be assigned to Investigation Unit 2914-01.
You are to immediately cease contact with friends and family and report to office RT56.
Unsigned
Unsure as to contact his parents or not he decided to report as requested. What followed was a highly classified and intense overseas mission, proving himself time and time again as the perfect marksman and investigator he was quickly promoted. With his new appointment came money, with this money and investments from the agency he upgraded himself with cyberware to enhance his capabilities and hopefully his career.
Two years later he was transferred and titled Col. Sam Ferrier with the purpose of overseeing the newly formed Paranormal Task Force. He has never spoke about what happened during this time and it is highly CLASSIFIED but many rumours suggest that he was in charge of ensuring paranormals were taken to the brink of extinction. He decided what they were doing was very wrong and whilst on a mission in Germany he just disappeared. On paperwork Sam is officially listed as 'Missing in Action, Presumed Dead' since the task force’s first mission. But he knows he is now hunted.
Sam used his contacts in Germany to assist him in getting back to America, knowing he needs to stay away from Washington and as unknown as possible he began to run the shadows of San Francisco.. Working for small corporations as an assassin he now goes by the name of Drifter. He never tells anyone his real name and if anyone were to ever call him by it he’d know the agency were on to him.
In tune with his surroundings Col. Sam Ferrier (Drifter) seems to be calm during any combat situation, this is due to the tough training he received during his time before the project, he is trained highly in weapons combat he is able to use any type of weapon in any situation.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Future Information
Nothing fundamental has changed for a runner in 2070; they still do the same jobs for the same sorts of people, using magic, cyberware, technology and their own skill to get it done.
As a starting runner you do not have access to everything you see in catalogues and in the hands of other prime runners. If it is too illegal or forbidden, a starting character probably cannot get hold off it. He must find a source for the item once he becomes a runner and has saved up enough money.
A Shadowrunners reputation is everything. New running teams have to work hard doing the poorly paid drek runs before they will be in contention for the better-paid work.
Fail a run, and word gets about pretty quick, if you loose enough street rep, you may as well go and get a day job, no well paid jobs will come your way without a catch.
Your selection of contacts is what sets a good runner apart from a great runner. Your contacts are your source of information, your source of work, and they broaden your own skill base. Choose your contacts wisely; if they are loyal and well connected you would do well to keep them sweet.
Technological advances
The Matrix is no longer a network of hard-wired nodes, which are connected by cables; the second crash of 2064 put an end to that. The network is now a series of overlapping network signals, which interact with each other. Almost all manufactured items transmit data, from Soy-cans transmitting their sell by date to the store network node, to cyberarms transmitting their status to the users PAN and receiving instructions back. This network is almost completely wireless, and generally can be accessed anywhere in the world (with some notable exceptions)
The PAN (Personal Area Network) is each person’s area of the new matrix constantly broadcasting and receiving data. Controlled through your Commlink, it is your telephone, your ID, your Credstick, your personal organiser, and so much more.
You subscribe your bits of kit to route through your Commlink and control them through this device, either cybernetically or with smart contact lenses/glasses and trodes. Through your Commlink you can receive and transmit data, and you can access the matrix almost permanently through AR (Augmented Reality)
You can also send and receive data between friends Comlinks. You can could see what they see, and be aware of where they are. For a runner this can come in incredibly useful, as your team become synergetic, exchanging data at the speed of thought.
Your PAN operate is 3 modes.
Active – this is the default for most PANs. In active mode you can access and be accessed by nodes. Certain areas may require your PAN to be active (Airport, Police Station, Corporate building) so they can identify who you are and follow your activities.
Passive – The PAN can access but cannot be accessed by other nodes. The PAN will still show up as active on the local network.
Hidden – PANs in this mode are said to be ghosting, they are not detectable but it is discouraged to use PANs in this mode by the enforcement of harsh punishments.
Your PAN network is made up of all of your pieces of equipment transmitting data to one another, an integral part in this network are RFID tags (Radio Frequency Identification). These tags range in size from microscopic, to the size of clothing tag size and have many functions, Security, Sensor and Stealth being three of the main functions.
Security tags are used by megacorporations and can be implanted under the skin of employees. These tags monitor where they are and where they have been and systems in the corporate buildings can ensure that anyone without a suitable Security tag are not going where they shouldn’t. Sensor tags are small and are placed on items which need monitoring like Bone Lacing. The tags can monitor build up of heat or stress or almost anything, and transmit the data to a users Comlink. Stealth tags are used to track individuals and items. Usually lying dormant these tags are almost impossible to locate until certain criterion are met, at which point they activate and transmit their location.
Tags are nothing more than sophisticated chips and can be deactivated and wiped or even removed from items. (when purchasing a new item you can specify that you do not want the RFID tag embedded)
AR or Augmented Reality is an overlay, which enhances the real worldview that most people see. Imagine walking down the street and the advertising hoarding reads your profile which is broadcast by your comlink, the advertising hoarding then transmits an advert tailored specifically to your personal tastes directly into your PAN-enabled sunglasses, the advert seems to appear where the advertising hoarding sits in the real world.
Other examples of uses, which are more useful to the modern runner, are Maps and GPS, which can overlay your route across your direction of travel and indicate friends and other marked targets that you will pass, or SMS messages, which appear next to the person sending. AR is present in every facet of life and in almost every case it has enhanced the real world.
In addition to AR, is the fully immersive VR (Virtual Reality). VR can only be accessed Cybernetically (or mentally if you are a Technomancer). This environment is akin to the Matrix of old, and this is the domain of hackers. VR is also accessed wirelessly bit the user looses almost all awareness of the real world. Using VR is known as SIMing and is a much more powerful way of accessing the Matrix, (you are inside the network rather than looking at the broadcast outside) SIMing VR comes in two forms. The Cold Sim and the Hot Sim. Cold SIMing is when you access the network with feedback filters and other safety protocols and is not as fast as Hot SIMing, where no filters are applied. This second form of VR is highly potent, and highly addictive and highly illegal.
All electronic devices can be controlled through the Matrix; this includes doors, security cameras, phones, cyberware, weapons, vehicles and drones. (Control of vehicles and drones is known as rigging and will be mentioned below). Because all electronics can be controlled via the matrix, a degree of security savvy is needed, you or your hacker can access the Mr. Johnson’s Commlink, or his bodyguards Cyberware, however you must be aware that they sure as hell can do the same to you.
Any runner who fails to practice good data security will wind up pretty dead in a short space of time.
Don’t advertise - PANs have their uses but they are also detectable. If in doubt, run Hidden.
Limit your vulnerabilities – Wireless devices are whiz but if they are not well protected they are a hackers next meal. If you don’t need it turn it off, and if you do need it, beef up its protection.
Don’t leave tracks – Everywhere you go your PAN leaves a data trail That evidence can be used against you, spoof your data trail, or have a hacker do it for you.
Fake ID is your friend – Even if active mode isn’t required, running with legit looking ID might keep you from standing out in a crowd. Just don’t rely on it for too long.
Rigging is the control of vehicles or drones through the matrix network and has become an area of specialisation of hackers called rigging. Riggers control vehicles, which have been adapted for rigger control. The rigger can pilot the vehicle with commands alone allowing the vehicle to get on with the job, or can “Jump into” the vehicle in full VR mode and become the vehicle. With a Rigger in control of a vehicle in VR mode, his actions and processing speeds are akin to a hacker in the VR Matrix and is capable of calculating manoeuvres at the speed of thought.
SIN. To own a SIN (System Identification Number) is to be an authorised citizen, SINs are registered to Nations or Corporations. Anyone without a SIN number is classified as Probationary Citizen. The SIN number is made up of many pieces of data about the person and can be used to identify a persons place and date of birth, name, and place of registration. A SIN number is needed to obtain travel tickets (this includes domestic bus tickets) to hold a bank account, to vote and to acquire housing or a job. Without a SIN you have few rights, and are unable to legitimately go about your business. Most Shadowrunners do not have a SIN as the SINless have a good degree of anonymity.
The SINless who get arrested have few rights. They often disappear into the system and generally don’t have access to legal services. Those who do remain in the system are issued with a criminal SIN number, which records biometric and other verifiable data and is slightly worse than having no SIN at all.
Without a SIN you are unable to hold a bank account, which has created a boom industry in offshore bank accounts or proxy accounts set up by criminal organisations. To have the luxury and convenience of holding a Bank account the SINless pay a steep tariff.
Corporations are aware that some of their customers (and deniable assets) require electronic payments without bank accounts, so Credsticks are issued and accepted almost everywhere (although the use of a credstick would be frowned upon in an expensive restaurant for example). Credsticks are issued in colours determining the maximum amount held on them. Silver is the smallest with a ¥5,000 limit; the black credsticks hold ¥1,000,00
As a starting runner you do not have access to everything you see in catalogues and in the hands of other prime runners. If it is too illegal or forbidden, a starting character probably cannot get hold off it. He must find a source for the item once he becomes a runner and has saved up enough money.
A Shadowrunners reputation is everything. New running teams have to work hard doing the poorly paid drek runs before they will be in contention for the better-paid work.
Fail a run, and word gets about pretty quick, if you loose enough street rep, you may as well go and get a day job, no well paid jobs will come your way without a catch.
Your selection of contacts is what sets a good runner apart from a great runner. Your contacts are your source of information, your source of work, and they broaden your own skill base. Choose your contacts wisely; if they are loyal and well connected you would do well to keep them sweet.
Technological advances
The Matrix is no longer a network of hard-wired nodes, which are connected by cables; the second crash of 2064 put an end to that. The network is now a series of overlapping network signals, which interact with each other. Almost all manufactured items transmit data, from Soy-cans transmitting their sell by date to the store network node, to cyberarms transmitting their status to the users PAN and receiving instructions back. This network is almost completely wireless, and generally can be accessed anywhere in the world (with some notable exceptions)
The PAN (Personal Area Network) is each person’s area of the new matrix constantly broadcasting and receiving data. Controlled through your Commlink, it is your telephone, your ID, your Credstick, your personal organiser, and so much more.
You subscribe your bits of kit to route through your Commlink and control them through this device, either cybernetically or with smart contact lenses/glasses and trodes. Through your Commlink you can receive and transmit data, and you can access the matrix almost permanently through AR (Augmented Reality)
You can also send and receive data between friends Comlinks. You can could see what they see, and be aware of where they are. For a runner this can come in incredibly useful, as your team become synergetic, exchanging data at the speed of thought.
Your PAN operate is 3 modes.
Active – this is the default for most PANs. In active mode you can access and be accessed by nodes. Certain areas may require your PAN to be active (Airport, Police Station, Corporate building) so they can identify who you are and follow your activities.
Passive – The PAN can access but cannot be accessed by other nodes. The PAN will still show up as active on the local network.
Hidden – PANs in this mode are said to be ghosting, they are not detectable but it is discouraged to use PANs in this mode by the enforcement of harsh punishments.
Your PAN network is made up of all of your pieces of equipment transmitting data to one another, an integral part in this network are RFID tags (Radio Frequency Identification). These tags range in size from microscopic, to the size of clothing tag size and have many functions, Security, Sensor and Stealth being three of the main functions.
Security tags are used by megacorporations and can be implanted under the skin of employees. These tags monitor where they are and where they have been and systems in the corporate buildings can ensure that anyone without a suitable Security tag are not going where they shouldn’t. Sensor tags are small and are placed on items which need monitoring like Bone Lacing. The tags can monitor build up of heat or stress or almost anything, and transmit the data to a users Comlink. Stealth tags are used to track individuals and items. Usually lying dormant these tags are almost impossible to locate until certain criterion are met, at which point they activate and transmit their location.
Tags are nothing more than sophisticated chips and can be deactivated and wiped or even removed from items. (when purchasing a new item you can specify that you do not want the RFID tag embedded)
AR or Augmented Reality is an overlay, which enhances the real worldview that most people see. Imagine walking down the street and the advertising hoarding reads your profile which is broadcast by your comlink, the advertising hoarding then transmits an advert tailored specifically to your personal tastes directly into your PAN-enabled sunglasses, the advert seems to appear where the advertising hoarding sits in the real world.
Other examples of uses, which are more useful to the modern runner, are Maps and GPS, which can overlay your route across your direction of travel and indicate friends and other marked targets that you will pass, or SMS messages, which appear next to the person sending. AR is present in every facet of life and in almost every case it has enhanced the real world.
In addition to AR, is the fully immersive VR (Virtual Reality). VR can only be accessed Cybernetically (or mentally if you are a Technomancer). This environment is akin to the Matrix of old, and this is the domain of hackers. VR is also accessed wirelessly bit the user looses almost all awareness of the real world. Using VR is known as SIMing and is a much more powerful way of accessing the Matrix, (you are inside the network rather than looking at the broadcast outside) SIMing VR comes in two forms. The Cold Sim and the Hot Sim. Cold SIMing is when you access the network with feedback filters and other safety protocols and is not as fast as Hot SIMing, where no filters are applied. This second form of VR is highly potent, and highly addictive and highly illegal.
All electronic devices can be controlled through the Matrix; this includes doors, security cameras, phones, cyberware, weapons, vehicles and drones. (Control of vehicles and drones is known as rigging and will be mentioned below). Because all electronics can be controlled via the matrix, a degree of security savvy is needed, you or your hacker can access the Mr. Johnson’s Commlink, or his bodyguards Cyberware, however you must be aware that they sure as hell can do the same to you.
Any runner who fails to practice good data security will wind up pretty dead in a short space of time.
Don’t advertise - PANs have their uses but they are also detectable. If in doubt, run Hidden.
Limit your vulnerabilities – Wireless devices are whiz but if they are not well protected they are a hackers next meal. If you don’t need it turn it off, and if you do need it, beef up its protection.
Don’t leave tracks – Everywhere you go your PAN leaves a data trail That evidence can be used against you, spoof your data trail, or have a hacker do it for you.
Fake ID is your friend – Even if active mode isn’t required, running with legit looking ID might keep you from standing out in a crowd. Just don’t rely on it for too long.
Rigging is the control of vehicles or drones through the matrix network and has become an area of specialisation of hackers called rigging. Riggers control vehicles, which have been adapted for rigger control. The rigger can pilot the vehicle with commands alone allowing the vehicle to get on with the job, or can “Jump into” the vehicle in full VR mode and become the vehicle. With a Rigger in control of a vehicle in VR mode, his actions and processing speeds are akin to a hacker in the VR Matrix and is capable of calculating manoeuvres at the speed of thought.
SIN. To own a SIN (System Identification Number) is to be an authorised citizen, SINs are registered to Nations or Corporations. Anyone without a SIN number is classified as Probationary Citizen. The SIN number is made up of many pieces of data about the person and can be used to identify a persons place and date of birth, name, and place of registration. A SIN number is needed to obtain travel tickets (this includes domestic bus tickets) to hold a bank account, to vote and to acquire housing or a job. Without a SIN you have few rights, and are unable to legitimately go about your business. Most Shadowrunners do not have a SIN as the SINless have a good degree of anonymity.
The SINless who get arrested have few rights. They often disappear into the system and generally don’t have access to legal services. Those who do remain in the system are issued with a criminal SIN number, which records biometric and other verifiable data and is slightly worse than having no SIN at all.
Without a SIN you are unable to hold a bank account, which has created a boom industry in offshore bank accounts or proxy accounts set up by criminal organisations. To have the luxury and convenience of holding a Bank account the SINless pay a steep tariff.
Corporations are aware that some of their customers (and deniable assets) require electronic payments without bank accounts, so Credsticks are issued and accepted almost everywhere (although the use of a credstick would be frowned upon in an expensive restaurant for example). Credsticks are issued in colours determining the maximum amount held on them. Silver is the smallest with a ¥5,000 limit; the black credsticks hold ¥1,000,00
SR4 rules in (very) brief
To make the transition from SR2 to SR4 in one easy painless step. Please see below the key rules the players will need to grasp. The rest of the SR4 rule book is firmly memorised by me. Honest.
SR4 use D6.
The pass target number is always a 5 or a 6. (Never will we see target number 12 again)
Dice rolled to pass a test is equal to attribute + skill (and in some instances attribute + attribute or attribute alone) with a threshold target (number of dice needed to score a 5 or 6) determined by GM.
Scoring 1s on more than 50% of the total dice rolled means that a character will suffer a glitch. A glitch is something that goes wrong, but is not too serious.
You can pass a test but still achieve a glitch. (You jump over a wall, but trip over as you land.)
All 1’s on the dice rolled is a critical glitch and is very bad for the player. (GM loves them though)
Combat
Roll number of dice equal to initiative. Hits are added to initiative attribute gives initiative score.
Being initiative pass. Highest initiative first.
Damage
Damage is either Physical or Stun, and is noted with either a P or S in the damage code.
The number in the damage code is the amount of boxes the weapon inflicts on the condition monitor.
The AP value of a weapon reduces the armour value.
Once the character has suffered damage, which exceeds their condition monitor they become unconscious and loose one box from their damage overflow every combat turn until they are stabilised with drugs and first aid, or die. Whichever is soonest.
Damage is resisted with a body + armour (modified by AP of attackers weapon) roll. Hits (5 or 6s on the dice) reduce the damage by one box.
SR4 use D6.
The pass target number is always a 5 or a 6. (Never will we see target number 12 again)
Dice rolled to pass a test is equal to attribute + skill (and in some instances attribute + attribute or attribute alone) with a threshold target (number of dice needed to score a 5 or 6) determined by GM.
Scoring 1s on more than 50% of the total dice rolled means that a character will suffer a glitch. A glitch is something that goes wrong, but is not too serious.
You can pass a test but still achieve a glitch. (You jump over a wall, but trip over as you land.)
All 1’s on the dice rolled is a critical glitch and is very bad for the player. (GM loves them though)
Combat
Roll number of dice equal to initiative. Hits are added to initiative attribute gives initiative score.
Being initiative pass. Highest initiative first.
Damage
Damage is either Physical or Stun, and is noted with either a P or S in the damage code.
The number in the damage code is the amount of boxes the weapon inflicts on the condition monitor.
The AP value of a weapon reduces the armour value.
Once the character has suffered damage, which exceeds their condition monitor they become unconscious and loose one box from their damage overflow every combat turn until they are stabilised with drugs and first aid, or die. Whichever is soonest.
Damage is resisted with a body + armour (modified by AP of attackers weapon) roll. Hits (5 or 6s on the dice) reduce the damage by one box.
Oh! no. It's Ono.
By S.Burns
I am Shinzo Oritomo and I was born in 2048 in a small village outside Tokyo. Born to a Japanese mother and father I was raised with the traditional beliefs of our ancestors, the samurai, believing in their honour and rules.
From an early age, I have been told 3 but I was too young to accurately remember, I was trained in the old ways. My father was an old Sensei of various styles including Kobudo and Jiu-Jitsu and knew all of the martial techniques that would get me through life, training me for 8 hours a day on both unarmed and armed combat and spiritual techniques to improve my mind and body. After father had finished mother would take over for a further 8 hours schooling me in mathematics and calligraphy, and also English which had become the language of the world, “Without knowledge there is no power” she use to say.
Every day my father would stress to me that “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone”. At first I did not understand what was meant by that, it seemed ridiculous, bad guys are bad and good guys are good but I found out later in life that my father was right all along.
My childhood did not hold much time for me to play and as such I was born with more of a sense of purpose in life, to protect those I loved and those whom I owed a debt. I was training to be one of the defenders of the town, a group known as the “Dragon’s Talons” people prepared to give their lives to maintain the village in the way it was and the way it had been for centuries.
Some time in my early to mid teens, I can’t quite remember when, I changed. I became a Troll and I thought my life was going to end. Looking back it must have been funny for everyone, me changing in looks on a day to day basis, although the pain was more than I could bear at times. Only the Techniques my father taught me kept the pain at bay and allowed me to live a next to normal life for the period of my change.
Not long after this I was asked to join the Dragon’s Talons, My father was their Sensei and Nagesoma Tanaka, their Daimyo which is an old title meaning Feudal Lord, had seen me training one day when my father over-ran with the training. It turned out later that he had done it on purpose so that Nagesoma would see my abilities.
The other members of the Dragon’s Talons believed I had only been invited to join because of my father’s status and as such made it as difficult for me as possible during training. At first I was annoyed as my father did nothing to stop them, but now I am glad he did not, it made me realise that all obstacles that fall before us are for us to deal with alone. This is what makes us strong.
Every training session I would enter the grounds and the others would say “Oh no here comes Shinzo”. As I was home taught they did not realise I could speak English and they had said it in English to try to hide it from me. I thought about it and adopted Ono as my name it seemed right for some reason which I could not explain, I suppose it was because it was close to Oni which is the Japanese for Demon, and also it is a type of battle axe. Either way I liked it and it became my call sign.
Training every day was a part of my life for years, training and learning and putting into practice the strictures of being a Samurai, I was given a set of armour and my father passed me the family sword, it was an over long 36” blade Katana with a Di-coated cutting edge. The sword was intricately decorated with jade and gold and the tsuka was in the shape of two dragons attacking each other.
A couple of years ago my life changed though. Big business caught site of our village and decided it would make a good site for a theme park, they didn’t care about the traditions being upheld or the people that lived their, all they cared for was money. These “Law abiding” people wrecked the lives of thousands of people a day and were allowed to get away with it. What my father had said before was true “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone” and it appeared that these business men were the good guys to the banks and the law.
My village was wiped out by Earth movers and diggers in one day, I remember it as clear as if it were happening now.
I had fought through a number of enemies and in the process had come across a Troll in security armour working for Kanetaka corporation, the battle that ensued caught the attention of all of the other fighters as I had my sword still sheathed and was standing still while the other troll circled me. After a number of circles the Corp Troll lunged forward and I sidestepped, drawing My blade and slicing in a downward arc. The blade struck deep but did not kill, and I sheathed it again in one fluid movement. I had always been taught that the blade should not be exposed unless you intend to kill with it.
“Leave and you can live” I told the other Troll who was holding the deep cut across his abdomen. With Fury building in his eyes he lunged forward again and aimed his sword right at my throat. I realised that he was going to have to kill this Troll and I was sorry for the waste of life, especially as I knew he was only following the words of another, but I knew that it must be done. As the blade of the Corp troll reached me, I side stepped, spun around drawing my blade and struck across the back of his neck. The blade cut through the armour and removed the trolls head from his shoulders.
When the corporate boss, a man called Toshahiro Kanetaka, saw his men being beaten back he ordered the machines to move in. the village was crushed under the machines and many of my friends perished including my parents.
I slumped into a terrible state for a number of months but finally had a vision in one of my restless dreams. My father and mother spoke to me and told me that I should not be running from life, this was one of the obstacles that I must overcome and that I must do it alone. As they faded I remember the last phrase was “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone”
I looked into this Toshahiro Kanetaka and found that he had moved to the U.S. I had to avenge my family and friends but I did not know where to start. My fathers words reverberated in my mind and I realised that there were a section of society that were known as shadow runners, these people were all over the place and were seen by most as common criminals. “Although someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone” Shadow runners would not have jobs if it were not for people seeing them as the good guys.
I caught a flight out to America, San Francisco to be precise. It was the last place that HE had been spotted and it seemed like a good place to start working. It took me a while to find contacts that pointed me in the right direction but there were a few people who listened to my plight and tried to help in any way possible.
Jobs started coming in but I kept my traditional values, making sure that I washed after every fight to keep the un-clean blood off my clothing, never touching the dead and praying for the spirits of the departed.
My moral code is long but I think it has secured me a few jobs in the past, it is better to have someone with a strict moral code than someone who has none…
Ono’s Description.
Facial
Ono’s facial features are Still distinctively Japanese. His eyebrows and nose have greatly expanded and his brow has become a lot harder and more pronounced but beneath it all there is still the traditional fine lines of a Japanese face.
Eyes: Black
Hair: Blue/Black
Complexion: Pale/Yellow
Body
Ono’s Body is hugely muscled, he is toned and he has started growing hair from his chest, this is a result of the Trollification as he never used to hair chest hair. Toned by years of training and meditation, there is not an ounce of Fat on Ono’s body giving him a very “ripped” appearance. Ono’s body stat’s are as follows;
Height: 3.1 Metres (in his socks)
Weight: 26 Stone (364Lbs or 165.5Kg)
Waist: 38 Inch
Chest: 64 Inch
Shoes: Size 18
Ring: Size Z (Ring finger on both hands)
Wrist: 8 Inches
Clothing
Ono is mostly at home in traditional Japanese clothing such as Hakima and kimono, however he realises that this is impractical for street use. During his time on the streets he has learnt how the average “joe” dresses but even so he is never far from his roots. His clothing is of western construction but in the Eastern style, a blend of both worlds which work surprisingly well. On a couple of occasions he has been complimented on his clothing. His normal clothing consists of:
· Lined coat (black with a shiny black dragon talon on the back. The dragon talon only shows in either ultraviolet light or when the light catches it right
· Linen shirt (Cream with Japanese characters written on the back saying “loyalty” down one side and “honour” down the other)
· Linen Trousers (black modified Hakima which fit inside Ono’s Boot. The bottom of the trousers have a silvered Dragon climbing the right leg)
· Bikers Boots (Slightly modified so that the clasps on the boots are in the shape of Dragons Talons. A dragon has been crafted into the sole which is left behind in Snow, mud or other Viscose substances
Sword
Ono’s Sword is an ancestral blade. The metal of the blade was folded a total of 56 times, which makes the sword one of the finest ever crafted in the old style. Newer blades are as deadly but they do not have the “Soul folds” where the spirits of their ancestors lay within the blade.
Blade has been made from folded steel which gives off a strange blue tint as though it was blued steel that was used. There is no blood groove which is so common in swords of modern times as this sword was made in the 1500’s
The hand guard and pommel is covered in fine gold leaf and has been lacquered so that the gold leaf will never wear, the gold and lacquer combination gives of a sparkle beyond belief. The design of the Tsuka or hand guard is that of two dragons locked in mortal combat.
The handle is bound in silk rope over two charms in the handle. The charms, made of gold depict the craftsman and the original owner of the sword, one on either side
The scabbard is coloured with a unique dragon design and written along the scabbard are the words “wind” and “Fury”
Ono, also has the matching Wakasashi which was the original sword of the Samurai, this is always kept crossing the Katana on Ono’s Quick draw rig which he designed himself
Crossbow
Ono’s crossbow is much the same as any other heavy crossbow although the stock is shaped like a dragon.
Ono’s Honour code.
Must not do’s
1. Never use firearms, they are not the way of Bushido
2. Never attack a person from behind, show them the honour of seeing their end coming.
3. Never hurt an Unarmed person unless they pose a threat
4. Never touch the bodies of the dead, they are unclean and should only be touched by those shown how to do so.
5. Never draw my weapon unless I am going to use it. It is the soul of my ancestors and not a display piece.
Must do’s
1. Assist my friends even if it means I am injured or captured
2. Always Meditate for 1 hour each night
3. Always ritually bathe after a battle, blood is unclean and shall be removed as soon as possible.
4. Always take care of my Armour and weapons. They are what keeps me alive
5. Put the value of life above money at ALL times
6. Always answer the call of those I owe a debt even if I am in the middle of something else. If more than one person I owe a debt, needs me at one time help the one who’s debt is greater first.
7. protect the integrity of my Sensei at all times
8. Maintain my countries traditional heritage in all that I do,Never bring shame on my family name
I am Shinzo Oritomo and I was born in 2048 in a small village outside Tokyo. Born to a Japanese mother and father I was raised with the traditional beliefs of our ancestors, the samurai, believing in their honour and rules.
From an early age, I have been told 3 but I was too young to accurately remember, I was trained in the old ways. My father was an old Sensei of various styles including Kobudo and Jiu-Jitsu and knew all of the martial techniques that would get me through life, training me for 8 hours a day on both unarmed and armed combat and spiritual techniques to improve my mind and body. After father had finished mother would take over for a further 8 hours schooling me in mathematics and calligraphy, and also English which had become the language of the world, “Without knowledge there is no power” she use to say.
Every day my father would stress to me that “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone”. At first I did not understand what was meant by that, it seemed ridiculous, bad guys are bad and good guys are good but I found out later in life that my father was right all along.
My childhood did not hold much time for me to play and as such I was born with more of a sense of purpose in life, to protect those I loved and those whom I owed a debt. I was training to be one of the defenders of the town, a group known as the “Dragon’s Talons” people prepared to give their lives to maintain the village in the way it was and the way it had been for centuries.
Some time in my early to mid teens, I can’t quite remember when, I changed. I became a Troll and I thought my life was going to end. Looking back it must have been funny for everyone, me changing in looks on a day to day basis, although the pain was more than I could bear at times. Only the Techniques my father taught me kept the pain at bay and allowed me to live a next to normal life for the period of my change.
Not long after this I was asked to join the Dragon’s Talons, My father was their Sensei and Nagesoma Tanaka, their Daimyo which is an old title meaning Feudal Lord, had seen me training one day when my father over-ran with the training. It turned out later that he had done it on purpose so that Nagesoma would see my abilities.
The other members of the Dragon’s Talons believed I had only been invited to join because of my father’s status and as such made it as difficult for me as possible during training. At first I was annoyed as my father did nothing to stop them, but now I am glad he did not, it made me realise that all obstacles that fall before us are for us to deal with alone. This is what makes us strong.
Every training session I would enter the grounds and the others would say “Oh no here comes Shinzo”. As I was home taught they did not realise I could speak English and they had said it in English to try to hide it from me. I thought about it and adopted Ono as my name it seemed right for some reason which I could not explain, I suppose it was because it was close to Oni which is the Japanese for Demon, and also it is a type of battle axe. Either way I liked it and it became my call sign.
Training every day was a part of my life for years, training and learning and putting into practice the strictures of being a Samurai, I was given a set of armour and my father passed me the family sword, it was an over long 36” blade Katana with a Di-coated cutting edge. The sword was intricately decorated with jade and gold and the tsuka was in the shape of two dragons attacking each other.
A couple of years ago my life changed though. Big business caught site of our village and decided it would make a good site for a theme park, they didn’t care about the traditions being upheld or the people that lived their, all they cared for was money. These “Law abiding” people wrecked the lives of thousands of people a day and were allowed to get away with it. What my father had said before was true “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone” and it appeared that these business men were the good guys to the banks and the law.
My village was wiped out by Earth movers and diggers in one day, I remember it as clear as if it were happening now.
I had fought through a number of enemies and in the process had come across a Troll in security armour working for Kanetaka corporation, the battle that ensued caught the attention of all of the other fighters as I had my sword still sheathed and was standing still while the other troll circled me. After a number of circles the Corp Troll lunged forward and I sidestepped, drawing My blade and slicing in a downward arc. The blade struck deep but did not kill, and I sheathed it again in one fluid movement. I had always been taught that the blade should not be exposed unless you intend to kill with it.
“Leave and you can live” I told the other Troll who was holding the deep cut across his abdomen. With Fury building in his eyes he lunged forward again and aimed his sword right at my throat. I realised that he was going to have to kill this Troll and I was sorry for the waste of life, especially as I knew he was only following the words of another, but I knew that it must be done. As the blade of the Corp troll reached me, I side stepped, spun around drawing my blade and struck across the back of his neck. The blade cut through the armour and removed the trolls head from his shoulders.
When the corporate boss, a man called Toshahiro Kanetaka, saw his men being beaten back he ordered the machines to move in. the village was crushed under the machines and many of my friends perished including my parents.
I slumped into a terrible state for a number of months but finally had a vision in one of my restless dreams. My father and mother spoke to me and told me that I should not be running from life, this was one of the obstacles that I must overcome and that I must do it alone. As they faded I remember the last phrase was “even though someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone”
I looked into this Toshahiro Kanetaka and found that he had moved to the U.S. I had to avenge my family and friends but I did not know where to start. My fathers words reverberated in my mind and I realised that there were a section of society that were known as shadow runners, these people were all over the place and were seen by most as common criminals. “Although someone appears to be the bad guy, they are the good guy to someone” Shadow runners would not have jobs if it were not for people seeing them as the good guys.
I caught a flight out to America, San Francisco to be precise. It was the last place that HE had been spotted and it seemed like a good place to start working. It took me a while to find contacts that pointed me in the right direction but there were a few people who listened to my plight and tried to help in any way possible.
Jobs started coming in but I kept my traditional values, making sure that I washed after every fight to keep the un-clean blood off my clothing, never touching the dead and praying for the spirits of the departed.
My moral code is long but I think it has secured me a few jobs in the past, it is better to have someone with a strict moral code than someone who has none…
Ono’s Description.
Facial
Ono’s facial features are Still distinctively Japanese. His eyebrows and nose have greatly expanded and his brow has become a lot harder and more pronounced but beneath it all there is still the traditional fine lines of a Japanese face.
Eyes: Black
Hair: Blue/Black
Complexion: Pale/Yellow
Body
Ono’s Body is hugely muscled, he is toned and he has started growing hair from his chest, this is a result of the Trollification as he never used to hair chest hair. Toned by years of training and meditation, there is not an ounce of Fat on Ono’s body giving him a very “ripped” appearance. Ono’s body stat’s are as follows;
Height: 3.1 Metres (in his socks)
Weight: 26 Stone (364Lbs or 165.5Kg)
Waist: 38 Inch
Chest: 64 Inch
Shoes: Size 18
Ring: Size Z (Ring finger on both hands)
Wrist: 8 Inches
Clothing
Ono is mostly at home in traditional Japanese clothing such as Hakima and kimono, however he realises that this is impractical for street use. During his time on the streets he has learnt how the average “joe” dresses but even so he is never far from his roots. His clothing is of western construction but in the Eastern style, a blend of both worlds which work surprisingly well. On a couple of occasions he has been complimented on his clothing. His normal clothing consists of:
· Lined coat (black with a shiny black dragon talon on the back. The dragon talon only shows in either ultraviolet light or when the light catches it right
· Linen shirt (Cream with Japanese characters written on the back saying “loyalty” down one side and “honour” down the other)
· Linen Trousers (black modified Hakima which fit inside Ono’s Boot. The bottom of the trousers have a silvered Dragon climbing the right leg)
· Bikers Boots (Slightly modified so that the clasps on the boots are in the shape of Dragons Talons. A dragon has been crafted into the sole which is left behind in Snow, mud or other Viscose substances
Sword
Ono’s Sword is an ancestral blade. The metal of the blade was folded a total of 56 times, which makes the sword one of the finest ever crafted in the old style. Newer blades are as deadly but they do not have the “Soul folds” where the spirits of their ancestors lay within the blade.
Blade has been made from folded steel which gives off a strange blue tint as though it was blued steel that was used. There is no blood groove which is so common in swords of modern times as this sword was made in the 1500’s
The hand guard and pommel is covered in fine gold leaf and has been lacquered so that the gold leaf will never wear, the gold and lacquer combination gives of a sparkle beyond belief. The design of the Tsuka or hand guard is that of two dragons locked in mortal combat.
The handle is bound in silk rope over two charms in the handle. The charms, made of gold depict the craftsman and the original owner of the sword, one on either side
The scabbard is coloured with a unique dragon design and written along the scabbard are the words “wind” and “Fury”
Ono, also has the matching Wakasashi which was the original sword of the Samurai, this is always kept crossing the Katana on Ono’s Quick draw rig which he designed himself
Crossbow
Ono’s crossbow is much the same as any other heavy crossbow although the stock is shaped like a dragon.
Ono’s Honour code.
Must not do’s
1. Never use firearms, they are not the way of Bushido
2. Never attack a person from behind, show them the honour of seeing their end coming.
3. Never hurt an Unarmed person unless they pose a threat
4. Never touch the bodies of the dead, they are unclean and should only be touched by those shown how to do so.
5. Never draw my weapon unless I am going to use it. It is the soul of my ancestors and not a display piece.
Must do’s
1. Assist my friends even if it means I am injured or captured
2. Always Meditate for 1 hour each night
3. Always ritually bathe after a battle, blood is unclean and shall be removed as soon as possible.
4. Always take care of my Armour and weapons. They are what keeps me alive
5. Put the value of life above money at ALL times
6. Always answer the call of those I owe a debt even if I am in the middle of something else. If more than one person I owe a debt, needs me at one time help the one who’s debt is greater first.
7. protect the integrity of my Sensei at all times
8. Maintain my countries traditional heritage in all that I do,Never bring shame on my family name
Rule of Six
By N.Barnes
Call Dir: Shadownet/ShadowlandsBBS/
Select Region: Region=SanFrancisco
Call SubDir: SanFrancisco/WeBlogs
Select Blog: Author=V.Six
Initializing
My name is Vincent ‘Six’ Caznotti but only my mother calls me Vincent. To most folks, I’m just Vinnie, though I admit, I picked up a couple of other names along the way.
My grandma; she still insists on calling me Vincenzo. She’s real proud of my family’s Italian American heritage. Three of my four grandparents were the descendants of Italian families who relocated to New York in the 1950’s and for some folk, especially my Grandma, proud old traditions die hard. I’m like ‘that was 120 years ago Grams’ but she insists on calling me Vincenzo. My Pops always shrugs, ‘what are you gonna do’ and he’s right, family is real important, so I can live with my Grandma’s quirks. Just don’t be fooled by the name.
I’ve lived in San Francisco all my life. My Mom and Pops have a real nice family home in the Castro district, not far from Mission Dolores Park on the corner of Church Street and 24th. My Mom’s the homebody – she kind of had to be; I’ve two older brothers and a younger sister. My Pops, well everyday he walks three blocks over and hops on the Tram downtown to Yerba Buena where he runs a little garage. It’s a one-man band place but he makes a decent living.
I qualified from technical college about 18 months ago and I’ve been helping him out, supplementing the income with various jobs as a delivery driver. Hell, truth be told I’ve been heading down there since I was about eight years old. Right at first I used to just sit in the cars while he worked on them but then I started helping out – real basic stuff, passing him the spanners and oiling where he pointed. I didn’t realise it then but I was learning all the time.
Like most kids, I had a bad patch. To hear my Pops talk, I was a proper little bastard all through the summer of 2063. On my 13th birthday he sat me down and talked about how in our spare time we could work together on building me a car ready for when I was old enough to drive. Of course there was a catch – if I wanted him to build me a car, I had to start acting responsibly, behave, treat my Mom right, show some dedication at school – basically prove to my Pops that I could and would be man enough to earn my wheels. Hell we shook on it there and then, like equals.
A couple of weekends later, we went out looking for a fixer-upper. I remember that day like it was yesterday. There was only one car for me – the 2041 Ford Shelby Mustang "Bullet" 341GT Limited Edition - I’d had a picture of it on my wall since I was six and I ran my old man ragged looking for one. We must have hit 20 or 30 auctions, junk yards and private sellers that weekend and we only found one under budget. She was no oil painting. Hell, she was no fixer-upper. I mean this car was a bona fide wreck but my Pops gave her a good look over and said the chassis and engine were sound. He was happy and I was happy, even if we did have to use my old man’s repair truck and tow her home dragging her ass on the blacktop.
Five years we spent working on that car. Five years devoting almost every weekend and often four nights a week to working her up. We grew real close my Pops and I and I learnt a hell of a lot from my old man in that time too. I took a mechanics class at technical college but frankly I could have taught it. Still it was worth it to see the pride in my old man’s eyes when I graduated top of the class at something for the first time.
Continues: 1/3
For my 18th I finally got my hands on the Bullet plus a small sum of money from my Grams who’d been investing in a trust fund since the day I was born. The trust matured on my 18th, Grams gave me the money and I was straight down the clinic, booking myself in to get a Datajack and a suite of VCR programs hardwired into my head. My trust didn’t cover the whole bill of course but I took a loan – I figured chrome was worth it.
That was a little less than two years ago and man has my life changed since then. I hadn’t been cruising the streets of San Fran long when I fell in with the wrong crowd – street racers. You gotta understand, these are my kind of people; petrol-heads, born with the smell of gasoline in their noses and a desire to feel the wind through their hair on the open road. I was an instant hit and my ride drew appreciative glances too because it was real, made of blood, sweat, passion and tears as much as of metal and rubber, rather than some Jap kit car. They were my people and suddenly I was the popular kid. It was street racers who took my initial and souped it up; gave me my tag – V6, then shortened even that to just ‘Six.’
But for all that I loved my new found friends, street racers have a take it or leave it attitude to the law. I guess that’s just a survival mechanism when high octane racing around the Bay Area is how you make your living and the cops don’t take too kindly to it. I was in a lot of debt – I had the loan for my Cyberwear to pay off and even though the Bullet was the finished article, I soon found I went a little stir crazy if I spent too long without a wrench in my hands. I figured I’d make my fortune doing custom jobs on fixer uppers then selling them on but I had no capital to buy the fixer uppers in the first place. So I started running a little modern-day highway robbery out on the freeways around ‘Frisco.
We were worried about getting busted by the cops but it wasn’t the police who caught up with us in the end. Seems the Bay area is Yakuza territory and the Japs didn’t take too kindly my spirit of free enterprise. Now I’ve not had much experience of organised crime. Pops has spoken with distaste of how my oldest brother Nunzio is a made man but until recently I had no idea what that meant. Evidently the ‘Frisco Yakuza had picked up on the name of Caznotti though and decided to make a statement, using me as messenger.
Me and some of the boys were impressing the girls with burnouts and do-nuts down at Golden Gate Park when the Japs first showed. Their ringleader was a real suave, arrogant guy with the kind of confidence only money can buy. I took a dislike to him and to his imported ten-second Mitsubishi right there and then. Looking back, he went out of his way to be a pain in the ass. For the next few weeks, him and his boys made a nuisance of themselves. Beating the ‘Frisco crowd out on the streets, spoiling races, tipping off the cops and a whole host of other shit. Even my hits out on the freeway started to go sour and I had an inkling those bastards were behind it. When their top dog finally challenged me, it was almost a relief. We agreed the terms, North on Highway 101 across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, just him and me, for pink slips.
I was confident – too confident and took the guy up on his challenge. We met at dawn in Golden Gate Park and my VCR programmes told me everything was fine with my ride. It was tight between us Northbound, fast and furious across the bridge but I pulled ahead on the turn. Southbound there was clear air between us. I started to celebrate but halfway back across the span, I cut smoke front and rear, the power died on me and something started interfering with my feed. I guess I got my Personal Access Node hacked, which basically meant I had fuck all idea what was wrong with my car. I can only coast to a halt watching the Mitsubishi roar home over the line. Man, what a bust.
Continues: 2/3
My car; My Dream Machine; Gone in 60 seconds. Man it cut me handing over the keys and the pinks to that arrogant Jap bastard. Cut me more when I realised I was gonna have to face my old man. What could I say to him? I’ll tell you what. Nothing. I bottled it. Thank fuck I don’t live at home no more. Pops thinks the Bullet is parked up while I run in one of the imports I’ve been modding up.
I got a call yesterday. Some old Yakuza dude. If I ever want a chance of getting my Bullet back, I gotta pay the Devil his due. No more highway robbery on his turf – plus back pay equal to a 50 per cent cut of everything I ever took out on the ‘Frisco freeway. With interest, natch. I am so screwed. I already owe money on the loan for my cyber-mods and with the Yakuza stamping out my revenue stream, I don’t exactly have big bucks coming in.
Which is why I’m sitting here writing this Blog. I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’ve got myself a car; Ok it’s Jap bolt-on crap but it’s better than stock. I’ve got myself some skills – behind the wheel, with a wrench and from hanging out on the San Fran streets. Most importantly, I know people who know people. One of my boys says he can put me in touch with some Runners and Runners always need wheelmen. Sure, it makes me little more than a glorified rigger but I hear Running the Shadows makes big bucks and right now, I need to worship at the altar of the almighty dollar.
I’m gonna let this Blog speak for itself. As a record of what I’ve done with my life and why.
Mood: Apprehensive
Listening to: Silence; Waiting for my first call
Ends: 3/3
Call Dir: Shadownet/ShadowlandsBBS/
Select Region: Region=SanFrancisco
Call SubDir: SanFrancisco/WeBlogs
Select Blog: Author=V.Six
Initializing
My name is Vincent ‘Six’ Caznotti but only my mother calls me Vincent. To most folks, I’m just Vinnie, though I admit, I picked up a couple of other names along the way.
My grandma; she still insists on calling me Vincenzo. She’s real proud of my family’s Italian American heritage. Three of my four grandparents were the descendants of Italian families who relocated to New York in the 1950’s and for some folk, especially my Grandma, proud old traditions die hard. I’m like ‘that was 120 years ago Grams’ but she insists on calling me Vincenzo. My Pops always shrugs, ‘what are you gonna do’ and he’s right, family is real important, so I can live with my Grandma’s quirks. Just don’t be fooled by the name.
I’ve lived in San Francisco all my life. My Mom and Pops have a real nice family home in the Castro district, not far from Mission Dolores Park on the corner of Church Street and 24th. My Mom’s the homebody – she kind of had to be; I’ve two older brothers and a younger sister. My Pops, well everyday he walks three blocks over and hops on the Tram downtown to Yerba Buena where he runs a little garage. It’s a one-man band place but he makes a decent living.
I qualified from technical college about 18 months ago and I’ve been helping him out, supplementing the income with various jobs as a delivery driver. Hell, truth be told I’ve been heading down there since I was about eight years old. Right at first I used to just sit in the cars while he worked on them but then I started helping out – real basic stuff, passing him the spanners and oiling where he pointed. I didn’t realise it then but I was learning all the time.
Like most kids, I had a bad patch. To hear my Pops talk, I was a proper little bastard all through the summer of 2063. On my 13th birthday he sat me down and talked about how in our spare time we could work together on building me a car ready for when I was old enough to drive. Of course there was a catch – if I wanted him to build me a car, I had to start acting responsibly, behave, treat my Mom right, show some dedication at school – basically prove to my Pops that I could and would be man enough to earn my wheels. Hell we shook on it there and then, like equals.
A couple of weekends later, we went out looking for a fixer-upper. I remember that day like it was yesterday. There was only one car for me – the 2041 Ford Shelby Mustang "Bullet" 341GT Limited Edition - I’d had a picture of it on my wall since I was six and I ran my old man ragged looking for one. We must have hit 20 or 30 auctions, junk yards and private sellers that weekend and we only found one under budget. She was no oil painting. Hell, she was no fixer-upper. I mean this car was a bona fide wreck but my Pops gave her a good look over and said the chassis and engine were sound. He was happy and I was happy, even if we did have to use my old man’s repair truck and tow her home dragging her ass on the blacktop.
Five years we spent working on that car. Five years devoting almost every weekend and often four nights a week to working her up. We grew real close my Pops and I and I learnt a hell of a lot from my old man in that time too. I took a mechanics class at technical college but frankly I could have taught it. Still it was worth it to see the pride in my old man’s eyes when I graduated top of the class at something for the first time.
Continues: 1/3
For my 18th I finally got my hands on the Bullet plus a small sum of money from my Grams who’d been investing in a trust fund since the day I was born. The trust matured on my 18th, Grams gave me the money and I was straight down the clinic, booking myself in to get a Datajack and a suite of VCR programs hardwired into my head. My trust didn’t cover the whole bill of course but I took a loan – I figured chrome was worth it.
That was a little less than two years ago and man has my life changed since then. I hadn’t been cruising the streets of San Fran long when I fell in with the wrong crowd – street racers. You gotta understand, these are my kind of people; petrol-heads, born with the smell of gasoline in their noses and a desire to feel the wind through their hair on the open road. I was an instant hit and my ride drew appreciative glances too because it was real, made of blood, sweat, passion and tears as much as of metal and rubber, rather than some Jap kit car. They were my people and suddenly I was the popular kid. It was street racers who took my initial and souped it up; gave me my tag – V6, then shortened even that to just ‘Six.’
But for all that I loved my new found friends, street racers have a take it or leave it attitude to the law. I guess that’s just a survival mechanism when high octane racing around the Bay Area is how you make your living and the cops don’t take too kindly to it. I was in a lot of debt – I had the loan for my Cyberwear to pay off and even though the Bullet was the finished article, I soon found I went a little stir crazy if I spent too long without a wrench in my hands. I figured I’d make my fortune doing custom jobs on fixer uppers then selling them on but I had no capital to buy the fixer uppers in the first place. So I started running a little modern-day highway robbery out on the freeways around ‘Frisco.
We were worried about getting busted by the cops but it wasn’t the police who caught up with us in the end. Seems the Bay area is Yakuza territory and the Japs didn’t take too kindly my spirit of free enterprise. Now I’ve not had much experience of organised crime. Pops has spoken with distaste of how my oldest brother Nunzio is a made man but until recently I had no idea what that meant. Evidently the ‘Frisco Yakuza had picked up on the name of Caznotti though and decided to make a statement, using me as messenger.
Me and some of the boys were impressing the girls with burnouts and do-nuts down at Golden Gate Park when the Japs first showed. Their ringleader was a real suave, arrogant guy with the kind of confidence only money can buy. I took a dislike to him and to his imported ten-second Mitsubishi right there and then. Looking back, he went out of his way to be a pain in the ass. For the next few weeks, him and his boys made a nuisance of themselves. Beating the ‘Frisco crowd out on the streets, spoiling races, tipping off the cops and a whole host of other shit. Even my hits out on the freeway started to go sour and I had an inkling those bastards were behind it. When their top dog finally challenged me, it was almost a relief. We agreed the terms, North on Highway 101 across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, just him and me, for pink slips.
I was confident – too confident and took the guy up on his challenge. We met at dawn in Golden Gate Park and my VCR programmes told me everything was fine with my ride. It was tight between us Northbound, fast and furious across the bridge but I pulled ahead on the turn. Southbound there was clear air between us. I started to celebrate but halfway back across the span, I cut smoke front and rear, the power died on me and something started interfering with my feed. I guess I got my Personal Access Node hacked, which basically meant I had fuck all idea what was wrong with my car. I can only coast to a halt watching the Mitsubishi roar home over the line. Man, what a bust.
Continues: 2/3
My car; My Dream Machine; Gone in 60 seconds. Man it cut me handing over the keys and the pinks to that arrogant Jap bastard. Cut me more when I realised I was gonna have to face my old man. What could I say to him? I’ll tell you what. Nothing. I bottled it. Thank fuck I don’t live at home no more. Pops thinks the Bullet is parked up while I run in one of the imports I’ve been modding up.
I got a call yesterday. Some old Yakuza dude. If I ever want a chance of getting my Bullet back, I gotta pay the Devil his due. No more highway robbery on his turf – plus back pay equal to a 50 per cent cut of everything I ever took out on the ‘Frisco freeway. With interest, natch. I am so screwed. I already owe money on the loan for my cyber-mods and with the Yakuza stamping out my revenue stream, I don’t exactly have big bucks coming in.
Which is why I’m sitting here writing this Blog. I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’ve got myself a car; Ok it’s Jap bolt-on crap but it’s better than stock. I’ve got myself some skills – behind the wheel, with a wrench and from hanging out on the San Fran streets. Most importantly, I know people who know people. One of my boys says he can put me in touch with some Runners and Runners always need wheelmen. Sure, it makes me little more than a glorified rigger but I hear Running the Shadows makes big bucks and right now, I need to worship at the altar of the almighty dollar.
I’m gonna let this Blog speak for itself. As a record of what I’ve done with my life and why.
Mood: Apprehensive
Listening to: Silence; Waiting for my first call
Ends: 3/3
Monday, February 20, 2006
No Plan Survives.....
By A.White
“What the fuck!!” An explosion rocked the walls of the ruined building that Tech Sergeant Jonny Chiu and his squad were sheltering in.
“Don’t worry!” Jonny shouted over the din, his ears still ringing. “It’s just an RPG, it won’t penetrate the walls!”
The small team of marines seemed to relax a little though Alfredo Mancini kept returning fire from the upstairs window at an unseen enemy.
“How long till we get out of here sir?” Thorpe asked. The little New Englander always seemed keen to get into action, then fold when he got there. Jonny made a mental note to get him onto light duties when they got home. If they got home…
“We’re here to do a job, and last time I looked we were fucking Marines, we’ll go home when we’ve broken those Americans out of that hell hole they’re stuck in!!” A Hoorah came from several of the small band.
Jonny allowed himself a small smile. He’d worked with a couple of these guys for the last five years now and he knew how most of them ticked. He only wished he believed the hype himself. They were undermanned for this job and they didn’t have the kit to deal with those Banshee’s that were guarding the entrance to the Daedeck Technical Valley entrance.
The job had sounded simple during the briefing. A small five-man team led by Tech Sgt Chiu would drop into the Daedeck area and effect the release of 20 or so American citizens. Proceed to a pre-arranged evac point and get away. A 30-minute job, with no major problems.
It had started badly, strong winds and driving rain had meant they dropped nearly 8 Km away from the target and had to proceed on foot. The small Korean patrol they encountered had been neutralised quickly, though Mancini had taken a hit and they had time to call in.
Now when the team had arrived at the target they found a 20 strong FRT team and two GMC Banshee hover tanks, fitted with twin-linked HMG’s. This plan had gone to shitsville.
“What about blowing ‘em sir?” Asked Flash, the scout who had a fixation with demolitions.
“You wouldn’t get close enough!” Mancini called down. “Too many gooks around, they’d see you before you even got close.”
Jonny just nodded in agreement. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but hacking was the only way. He switched into his comm-link and the area’s matrix metaphor covered his perception.
He jumped back startled, ahead of him stood two gigantic Stone warriors, each clutching a huge Tetsubo style club, they snarled and leapt to the attack. Jonny decided to concentrate on lefty, he was uglier. Jonny loaded an intrusion program, opened his great maw and bathed the giant in silver flames, the creature fell away, clawing at its stone flesh. The other “Righty” leapt forwards sending blow after blow Jonny’s way. Jonny desperately threw himself out of the way, catching several blows. Then it started happening. The silver fire started eating into Lefty’s skin, his expression went blank then he started attacking Righty. Jonny grinned and returned to reality.
The scene was one of Horror, the Banshee on the right had lost control, spinning in circles colliding with the other spitting cannon rounds everywhere. It continued to spin like some grisly child’s toy. Mincing infantry and tearing the other Banshee to pieces before smashing into a reinforced wall and exploding into a maelstrom of fire. Jesus these mil-spec programs are hot stuff.
Jonny assayed the destruction.
“Job done, satis.”
“What the fuck!!” An explosion rocked the walls of the ruined building that Tech Sergeant Jonny Chiu and his squad were sheltering in.
“Don’t worry!” Jonny shouted over the din, his ears still ringing. “It’s just an RPG, it won’t penetrate the walls!”
The small team of marines seemed to relax a little though Alfredo Mancini kept returning fire from the upstairs window at an unseen enemy.
“How long till we get out of here sir?” Thorpe asked. The little New Englander always seemed keen to get into action, then fold when he got there. Jonny made a mental note to get him onto light duties when they got home. If they got home…
“We’re here to do a job, and last time I looked we were fucking Marines, we’ll go home when we’ve broken those Americans out of that hell hole they’re stuck in!!” A Hoorah came from several of the small band.
Jonny allowed himself a small smile. He’d worked with a couple of these guys for the last five years now and he knew how most of them ticked. He only wished he believed the hype himself. They were undermanned for this job and they didn’t have the kit to deal with those Banshee’s that were guarding the entrance to the Daedeck Technical Valley entrance.
The job had sounded simple during the briefing. A small five-man team led by Tech Sgt Chiu would drop into the Daedeck area and effect the release of 20 or so American citizens. Proceed to a pre-arranged evac point and get away. A 30-minute job, with no major problems.
It had started badly, strong winds and driving rain had meant they dropped nearly 8 Km away from the target and had to proceed on foot. The small Korean patrol they encountered had been neutralised quickly, though Mancini had taken a hit and they had time to call in.
Now when the team had arrived at the target they found a 20 strong FRT team and two GMC Banshee hover tanks, fitted with twin-linked HMG’s. This plan had gone to shitsville.
“What about blowing ‘em sir?” Asked Flash, the scout who had a fixation with demolitions.
“You wouldn’t get close enough!” Mancini called down. “Too many gooks around, they’d see you before you even got close.”
Jonny just nodded in agreement. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but hacking was the only way. He switched into his comm-link and the area’s matrix metaphor covered his perception.
He jumped back startled, ahead of him stood two gigantic Stone warriors, each clutching a huge Tetsubo style club, they snarled and leapt to the attack. Jonny decided to concentrate on lefty, he was uglier. Jonny loaded an intrusion program, opened his great maw and bathed the giant in silver flames, the creature fell away, clawing at its stone flesh. The other “Righty” leapt forwards sending blow after blow Jonny’s way. Jonny desperately threw himself out of the way, catching several blows. Then it started happening. The silver fire started eating into Lefty’s skin, his expression went blank then he started attacking Righty. Jonny grinned and returned to reality.
The scene was one of Horror, the Banshee on the right had lost control, spinning in circles colliding with the other spitting cannon rounds everywhere. It continued to spin like some grisly child’s toy. Mincing infantry and tearing the other Banshee to pieces before smashing into a reinforced wall and exploding into a maelstrom of fire. Jesus these mil-spec programs are hot stuff.
Jonny assayed the destruction.
“Job done, satis.”
Where to play?
I have played and gamesmastered SR2 for many years, having run several campaigns of varying success and enjoyment. Most of the games were set in either Seattle or London and both locations were great fun.
When I decided to upgrade to SR4 and start a new campaign I wanted to start over. Seattle and London had been done, I was beginning to struggle thinking of new ideas, and my players knew every bar and club and place of interest in these two cities so I began a search of the world for a new location.
First off I wanted the place to be in America, I intend to fuel this campaign with the zip of bullets and the smell of cordite, and where else can my characters find arms and armour sold in supermarkets?
I have a couple of sourcebooks for America, Denver and Tir Tangire among others but I have issues with these. Denver as described in Fasa’s world is fucked up. Divided into five different sectors, each controlled by a different faction, each suspicious of the other. It is contrived and I find it difficult to visualise. And the other, Tir Tangire is not for my players. The secretive world of the elves in this country within a country is a place that only the GM should see into and it is not for player consumption.
So that left me to go off and find a place in America by myself. With Google Earth I found several cities that fitted the bill. New York, Washington and Los Angeles are some that caught my eye.
The next thing on my criterion was history and landmarks. Nothing better to inspire me when I am having an adventure writing block than photos of famous places, and if those places are in my city of choice all the better. After putting together a list of places that would be interesting, San Francisco rattled to the top of my list. Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Lombard Street, Those stupidly steep roads.
I was sold. And San Francisco became the city of choice.
When I decided to upgrade to SR4 and start a new campaign I wanted to start over. Seattle and London had been done, I was beginning to struggle thinking of new ideas, and my players knew every bar and club and place of interest in these two cities so I began a search of the world for a new location.
First off I wanted the place to be in America, I intend to fuel this campaign with the zip of bullets and the smell of cordite, and where else can my characters find arms and armour sold in supermarkets?
I have a couple of sourcebooks for America, Denver and Tir Tangire among others but I have issues with these. Denver as described in Fasa’s world is fucked up. Divided into five different sectors, each controlled by a different faction, each suspicious of the other. It is contrived and I find it difficult to visualise. And the other, Tir Tangire is not for my players. The secretive world of the elves in this country within a country is a place that only the GM should see into and it is not for player consumption.
So that left me to go off and find a place in America by myself. With Google Earth I found several cities that fitted the bill. New York, Washington and Los Angeles are some that caught my eye.
The next thing on my criterion was history and landmarks. Nothing better to inspire me when I am having an adventure writing block than photos of famous places, and if those places are in my city of choice all the better. After putting together a list of places that would be interesting, San Francisco rattled to the top of my list. Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Lombard Street, Those stupidly steep roads.
I was sold. And San Francisco became the city of choice.
Before the beginning
Shadowrun characters are to be created this Wednesday 22/02/06. My organisational skills are lacking, and this campaign is going to last for some time. So the only way to keep a track? Something online.
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