[Herr D]

I had walked half of Arena Row when my ESO subroutine went nuts. Several dozen Enforcers were turning off cameras. Um.
I checked the map in my head. The hallway parallel to my walk. I sent out orders for droids and bots to find grates to stare out, funneling footage straight to me. Pre-filtered to only include movement and light changes. It took several minutes for me to realize the net traffic in the area was at a minimum. I did a quick footage search and found nothing. Then I got an old-fashioned e-mail in my head.

Y.W.N.–We are doing as you request. We have nothing to hide. We are NOT guilty, and if you can find someone responsible and find proof, we would be perfectly happy to arrest them. Please use a minimum of violence and allow us to conduct a trial of the suspect or suspects you indicate and access to whatever proof you uncover. Remember, two of our own died in that tunnel. We did not hide the footage–we simply sent it to an independent investigator on a nearby Solarium. Please let US announce the identity of the guilty party or parties. Everyone already knows you are doing the detective work. Many more lives are at stake. We are willing to declare amnesty in exchange for our own satisfaction that this matter was handled correctly.
–Enforcer Head, v-gamma-seven.

Who requested what? I couldn’t very well just walk over and find out . . . I stopped at the nearest kiosk and ‘received’ a fake message.

The Surgeon: Protocol #7. Arena Row parallel. Now.

I GameFaced a look of surprise and confusion and ran. While I was trotting to each and every arena, opening it, and finding them empty, I was searching the Enforcer buffer for a few keywords. Besides the rumor and hopeful tips for sale, I found three copies of the same message:

Enforcer Recipient, I found this waiting for me to send: This is The Surgeon. I want to find those responsible for the recent quake and loss of life. Please therefore deactivate all cameras inside and outside Arenas in inner hallways immediately and leave them off for twenty standard hours. I will be giving away free viewings of footage that I have stolen from the Gladiator Games of two cycles ago as incentive to attend. Myself and my colleagues hope to finish investigating before the twentieth hour. Send e-mail to Y.W.N. when halfway through.

Upclose’ tells were on them. Only a hacker like me would likely figure them out, but still–
Word was traveling fast, and only by word of mouth. People were on there way here, and I wasn’t sure why.

\END TEXTBURST \ROBOTARM:ADDON:LOC314

[Herr D]

Hey! You might try a fur monster next. It was a little easier for me. Welcome.

[Herr D]

The Fetch, also posted in weapons category of forum.
Launched using gunpowder from a one-shot tube, ideally the fetch would impale the shoulderblade of a deserting soldier. The cord drawn tight for incentive, the person holding the other end says “fight or die.” Since even the American military has shot deserters mid-battle to discourage desertion, I wonder why no one thought of these in the middle ages?

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-fetch.jpg

At least grapefruit-size, I figure. The deserter would be down to one arm, and automatically defending a leader.

[Herr D]

Have you heard of phantom limb syndrome? It doesn’t sound like it might mean . . .

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-NoOfficerIDidnSee.jpg

Unfortunately I ran out of time on the pop quiz for submission and didn’t include limbs or a red mist protruding from the ‘splat.’
For the public domain electrical-powered hero contest, I submitted her as a multi-tasker. Flying and force-bolts and heat lightning? Perhaps fighting a giant crab would come natural.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-LightningGirlVsGiantCrab.jpg

At least the after-party would be well-catered, right?

[Herr D]

“We got a little nervous about Lab J. That thing that got loose? It chewed up the electric fence and a Saab before going back. Here at the Facility, though, we are NOT supposed to pry. So Bill and I walked out there and we saw this other creature. It played us a tape of their security guard saying everything was fine. It seemed to be doing his rounds. That’s good enough–we don’t need to worry, right?”

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/WhoGoesThere.jpg

I happen to think the first one of these, with the watch on the arm counting arrows, is scarier than the second. I’m interested to know whether people agree or disagree. If you feel strongly, PM me and tell me “watch” or “no watch” and why.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/LabJSentry.jpg

[Herr D]

This jumped out at me. What if I were suddenly visited by an alien and told he needed land transportation? If the alien looked like this one, I KNOW I would first offer him my bike but call it a “Steinemmobile.”

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-Steinemmobile.jpg

When would a fish need a bicycle? If the fish were: mentally and technologically advanced, unhindered by certain over-traditional notions of human culture, harried, and having had some bad luck. An alien or the perfect modern career woman. Interesting overlap.

[Herr D]

That had been a little too easy. I launched a fuzzier-than-normal bit of code named ESO to scan ALL footage recorded for the shift-week. Objective: odd Enforcer behavior. I sent out a shelled universal fail code on a timer and every droid that had been ‘watching’ us blanked their own memories and sent out a maintenance call. Gibbs was about to prove his worth. I decided I really would see Chugger after all. He had been warned I was coming and was waiting outside with a gun. At least he wasn’t pointing it. “Hey, Chugger. Trouble?”
“I hope not, Q. Are we good?” uhh–
“I believe you’re paid up and then some.” He relaxed a little. But not enough–
“I’ve been asked some questions about you.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t really know what to tell them.” It wasn’t just fear in his eyes. GameFace wasn’t quite able to decipher–anger or guilt?
“Have you faced trouble because of me?”
“Some. I’m not sure how much yet.” Oh how icky.
“Do you wish to partner with me in demanding arbitration?”
He looked completely confused and horrified. “Not at this time.” Eeew. He wasn’t sure what to feel either.
I nodded. “How is your room?” Boy, that threw him.
“My–oh. I like it.” My droid alerts told me that the loiterers in the hallway were all about me.
I pretended not to notice. I leaned closer. “You are an ethical businessman.”
He frowned, still confused, but putting the gun away. “Thank you. I do try.”
“How do you feel about the con game of partnering with a barfly to water down a drink and split the difference of drinks bought for them?” Chugger actually blushed.
“I used to do that,” he said, “I won’t anymore.”
“Because?”
“I need to respect my customers as a respectable businessman should.”
“So that’s not a respectable thing to do?” He startled a bit. Oooh.
“I mean it might get around and I can’t have that. I have to be known as honest. I haven’t always been, but the fact that I’m known NOW as honest means I get better people in. I need better people in because I need the money.”
“You are in debt?”
“Not yet. But if I’m going to buy this place,” he pointed at the bar behind him, “I need to raise a lot more than I’ve been able to.”
He went on explaining that his only vice was women and he only did that to stay sane, ya da yada ya–while ESO reported back to me. At first I thought it was a glitch. Chugger wasn’t an Enforcer, but ESO watched him in and out of a bundling booth. Then I saw it. The rich beltminer woman that paid the bundling booth for a quickie with the surprised Chugger was Elsie. LC4. The Enforcer. No wonder he felt guilty. He hadn’t realized it till pillowtalk was over. Maybe not until he saw her on patrol. He kept his hate for the Enforcers pretty quiet, but . . . Hey! The solution for his guilt could benefit me without being TOO expensive for him.
I leaned closer. “I know you didn’t mean to talk to an Enforcer. Even a cute one.” I gave him a genuine smile.
His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. “H-how did-?”
“Not important, Chugger. What IS important is that I want you to make sure the door swings both ways.” Gotcha.
Still wide-eyed, fear left him at the prospect for revenge. “What would you like, sir?”
I covered my mouth and whispered. “You have a screen under the bar, don’t you?” He grimaced. It might hurt him to bend like that . . .
“Yes, sir.”
“My –ahem– SPONSOR is wanting another ear on the Enforcers. Someone who might also be good to feed some disinformation.”
“They monitor chat, though.”
“They can’t monitor his chatboxes unless he lets them. If your cursor suddenly jumps into a box marked ‘The Shade,’ converse freely. Tell him all. Take his assignments. In exchange he will never involve himself with you.” I paused. “Oh, and Chugger?”
“Yessir?”
“If you would like a silent partner, or a loan, please come and negotiate with me.”
He smiled. “Yes SIR!” I walked straight to the kiosk, typed three completely meaningless keys in a random order, and walked on.

[Herr D]

You called? The only thing I did here was tweak it for opening purposes. I was mainly in it for the caption that most people won’t get.

So far all those who are posting to “Knighthood,” why not expand into this thread with your fantasy races? Goblins, orcs, dwarves, centaurs… dragons?

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-TourneyGossip.jpg

[Herr D]

Someone asked me once why I think about aliens so much. I think I replied that I probably thought of humans as alien. I am certainly one of the most long-running cases of culture shock experienced by a native in his own country. I actually often suffer from ‘jamais vu.’ This phenomenon DOES make it easier to think of things no one else does. Like the following:

In physics, there are certain problems that must be solved for a specific set of values, because they can’t be solved for ONE answer. One example is calculating central positions with a set value of gravity between three gravity wells. One possible explanation for this (if you bend your brain a bit,) is that the positions within the set are potential teleport hops. All you would need to do would be to link three gravitons, (if they exist,) within the set with certain frequency beams like positrons. The ‘engine’ that accomplished this linkage and whatever was attached to it would ‘blink’ randomly between those three points. So the cagey speedster would aim his beams wide apart, hoping the random hops would be far enough to cause great speed. Each hop would automatically change the trajectory of the beams, necessitating a computer to keep track of constellations and potential hops.
The ship should look something like this for marketing purposes: the GTF Audahier
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-GTFAudahier.jpg
Of course, the vehicle should only be able to blink between points with the same force of gravity found in the point of origin. That may mean waiting around until the right triangulation of three gravitons occurs. Which could, in theory, take forever . . . but at least it would be impossible to blink into something — that would be an unheard of gravity value.

[Herr D]

great beginning. You may wish to check out the tutorials and begin experimenting with techniques posted there. I would suggest toying with color #3 to see how you like outlines other than black. Many people don’t line things up as well as you have right away . . .

[Herr D]

Valid points. Your way of templating does sound like an improvement on the ‘old fixed list of recipes’ approach. I am actually thinking of having all characters capable of a half pound total as a base level, and the casting take 1-3 rounds. In exchange for regular casting ability, the players may choose Uncast with their casting weight–which might mean the whole party will be necessary to cancel a spell. . .of course, using fire is probably unwise, like calling down mortar fire on your own position. Doubtless counter-spells would have been thought of by experienced battle mages: putting out fires or things made of fire would be an interesting problem.
My system is intended for people who want fewer limits on possibilities of magic, like your comments on fantasy races. I only have three interested players at this time, and none of us will have time to play for, likely, another calendar year. (This is the point of testing, though, to make sure it works before then.)

[Herr D]

This time I thought about nursery rhymes. If you know your history, you know that they have hidden meanings. “Ring around the rosie” was a story about disease; “Hey Diddle Diddle” was a character contrast within a famous household.
–What if a bard really DIDN’T tell the true meaning of one of those rhymes?
The temptation would always be there. The easiest thing to do would be what Willem Dafoe did: write a story that uses the same information. A bard could make sure he didn’t get as close as, say, a writer, but would always tend to reuse meter, rhyme schemes, phonetic themes, plot devices, archetypes . . . well?

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-GrummanSong.jpg

Obviously people today don’t mind repeatedly and radically altering old works of fiction. Something else, everyone knows the old saw about ‘winners writing the history.’ How many times can a world essentially ‘lose’ world-changing truth? For an answer to that, I can recommend the old short story “Nightfall” by Isaac Asimov.

[Herr D]

LC4 was enough of a rookie that she didn’t automatically think I was lying. And that she wasn’t as scared by what I had just told her. “The coordinates you gave were no good.” Ah, but she did her homework.
“Well,” I said, “I didn’t think they’d wait around for you to find them. They may have lied to me anyway. Did you at least find where they were?” I had jettisoned debris suitable to have been a rogue beltminer’s transmitter and plotted it’s probable landing site on a stripped, abandoned rock. Her face told me they had. Hmm. They hadn’t put that online yet–why not?
“I’m asking the questions.”
“So you have more, then?”
“YES!”
“Those being?” KF2 was actually smiling at how badly she was doing. He wasn’t quite so prideful about his job.
“How do you contact them?” Ah, about time.
“I think they are always watching for me to be online. They choose when.”
LC4 couldn’t help but look up at the hallcams. “You will submit to memchip scan.”
I looked at her with genuine indignance. “I will submit to memchip scan in this public hallway. And I will NOT accompany you to the Enforcer Station.” It was time to start scaring them.
She gave me a sarcastic, scrunched-up face and said what no Enforcer was supposed to officially admit. “We were monitoring your chat, ‘Q,’ and we have you on conspiracy to commit extortion.” Gotcha!
I gave her my sweetest, most triumphant smile and didn’t need GameFace at all, even with her shoulder cannon still pointed at my face. “I would be FASCINATED, Elsie, for you to arrest me on charges of blackmailing you about Enforcers assassinating beltminers.” And I pushed through the subroutine I’d prepped. Every hallcam pointed straight at me. Three cleaning bots, one maintenance utiility cart rolled into view, pointed their optics at us. Every vent, panel, duct, and service door opened to reveal another droid’s optics beginning to point at me. It took about thirty seconds for the movements to complete while I simply added, “I wonder how long they would let you live.” LC4 and KF2 both went pale and still. Their backup pointed their weaponry at each droid, bot, autocart, cam and screen, not knowing what to do. “They’ve been waiting for a confession or a slip-up. Why not go ahead? In the meantime, I don’t dare go anywhere with any Enforcer. I’d be killed. You too, most likely. Of course, as long as I AM alive, the chances of you catching The Shade and his ‘merry men’ are higher.” I GameFaced back to psychotic calm. “But as long as they know I’ve been loyal, they’ll only kill me if they can do it quickly, hurting as many of you as possible in the process.”
Every Enforcer took at least two steps back from me. I’d be a hero by next shift-end. “There is nothing more I can tell you. There is nothing in my memchips worth scanning. Do you want to waste the time?” She shook her head. I walked away.

[Herr D]

Hammerknight has the right idea–one of the reasons I’ve gotten into writing game mechanics is I don’t agree with most of them.
The beauty of the present time is that with all the work already done, you COULD adopt the combat system from one RPG system, weapons from another, skills from a third, races / characters imported through GURPS from everywhere, and even convert from d20 systems to d10s to whatever and back again. You can quite literally build an RPG Frankenstein with a minimum of preparation. Books, online resources, even some consultants like I used to be are out there for the low, low price of just too much, and some are free.
As for favorite rules? I’ve got a few. A GM I know who uses a lot of percentile dice gives an automatic success on rolling a 69.
Several GMs I’ve known give experience points for making them laugh. Some give XP for ‘being ready with the answer a noob needs,’ and helping give them a leg up. One GM said a crit. success rolled on a random rock toss was worth choosing where an avalanche went.
Least favorite? Rules about cover / concealment and called shots seem grossly inaccurate most of the time. ‘Veteran’ in low-power skills always seem grossly overpowered or ignored. Generally inflexibility or the unwillingness to negotiate / customize bothers me also.

[Herr D]

We’ve all heard of the British Invasion, but what about the Arthurian Inversion?
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-TourneyGossip.jpg
Do you get all three quips? In case they are too obscure, see below.
The man’s name was Pendragon; it was the sword and the stone; the slang is drain the lizard.

[Author]

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