You are a motorcycle courier, and you died in a strange time. Technology has outrun itself. Data transmission is too advanced to be secure. It's anybody's guess how data is routed through the sprawling system, or how much of it any hub saves. Wireless is even worse - any message could be, and probably is, intercepted by any with an antenna, and decrypted by anyone with enough time. Speeding messengers with bags on their backs are the best option in an age where digital information's only security is obscurity. You were the cutting edge, in a world where that means taking approaches that would have been barbarically low-tech fifty years ago.It isn't quiet, and it isn't painless.You die, burning in a foil bag, Phillip's screams in your ears as he thrashes in a futile attempt to escape. His thin arms rustle the bag as he spasms, the perhaps innocent child you dragged into this expiring against you in the heat. Skin on fire, baking to death in the airless bag, Phil defiant to the last - that's the last thing you remember correctly.Then, welcome blackness.Everything after that is a jumble. There's cold. You're laying on a slab of ice, jagged freezing shards stabbing into you. Frantic pain shoots through you as the slivers move, tearing at you.A thousand bright eyes staring down, blinding in their brilliance.A frozen-shut mouth.Speech felt, not heard.Nothing you can see. Everything a white blur. Shapes on the edges of vision turn to snow when you focus on them.Pinned to the frozen slab by icy stakes.Voices half-heard, vibrations in the slab.A cold, white voice, a ice pillar among skittering gray rat voices.The rats chorus.>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]>Prep for augmentation [Gee, what do you think?]>There's no hope [There's no hope]
>>36688577>Prep for augmentation
>>36688577>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]Staying on the path
>>36688577>>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]
>>36688577>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]FUCK YEAH! CMCQ!
>>36688577>META POSTBack to Laura. Time to kick this into gear again.There will probably be a fairly long interruption at some point during this thread.>LINKSTwitter(for quest news, not my political views): https://twitter.com/HaikuDelugeArchive (for figuring out how you got here): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20QuestQuestions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge
>>36688577>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]
>>36688577>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]There will, however, be extensive scarring
>>36688577>Nothing we can't fix [All-Natural]"She's only a bit burnt around the edges. Cut a bit of dead tissue here, cover these places in frog skin, give her a couple experimental chemicals and she'll be just fine."
>>36688577>There's no hope [There's no hope]There's no hope. I am legitimately curious how the quest would progress if this is chosen. Presumably not actually an immediate Bad End, if only because having one on the first choice of the thread is pretty bad form.
>>36689098HD has already run a different MC once.I'm 90% certain that option leads to a new MC.
>>36689310the boy, maybe?
>>36689440I hope he's okay.
>>36689488There's no hope
>>36689488me too we'll probably wake up in "THE BABY THE BABY THE BABY THE BABY" mode
>>36689310But Laura can't die yet.She hasn't shown us her skills in the ancient art of Bike-Fu.http://youtu.be/VlHY6xRpktk
>>36689546is that a reference to something?
>>36688577"Fix us nothing!" you feel the gray voices say, "Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!"Then you feel the rats gnawing at you, their teeth pulling at your flesh."Remove," a darker voice commands, so gray it almost verges into black.A voice that doesn't want to speak.The shards shift, snagging.Your back arches with pain as they rend out of you, pulled into the white light.A scream held back by frozen-shut lips.Your limp body, covered in ragged wounds, sags back to the slab of ice.Light, endless white. Sightless white eyes staring at you as the gray rats swarm under their darker queen's command.The black queen. Everything fades, plunging you into a jumble of thoughts.Remembering a game played once with cracked plastic pieces, sun reflecting off a shining bald head bent to teach you another move.You were never much good, but he enjoyed it, despite his groans. He must have, to keep trying to drill it into you.The black against the white, or either against the red.The eternal game.>The Black Queen>The White Queen>The Red Queen>Write In
>>36689098There's no hope. Because really, in reality on a large scale, there's no hope.
>>36689651>The White Queen
>>36689651>The Black Queen
>>36689651>The Red Queen
>>36689651>Write in - There's no hope.
>>36689651>>The White Queen
>>36689651>>The Red QueenFuck everyone I can take em.
>>36689651>Those choiceWhat the fuck. I thought there were four megacorps?What does this even mean?
>>36689651>Write in>The pawn, caught between all threeI have no idea what I'm voting for.
>>36689759We may have pissed off one of them...
>>36689651>The Red Queen>but he enjoyed it, despite his groans. He must have, to keep trying to drill it into you.Kinky
>>36689759I dunno. I rolled a d6 I had laying next to me for my vote.
>>36689651>The Red KingAre we all part of his dream?>>36689759Wasn't the Red Queen Nero's sword in DMC3, the one made from a motorcycle throttle?
>>36689651Water, thick and dark, swirling over you."I'm surprised she made it as far as she did," the white voice says, coming to you like a shadow cast over your deep pool. "The pawn can move twice on its first move in the game," a new voice says. A red voice, dripping with blood and honey, "and even a pawn can stop a rook's advance."Of course, you're not a queen, you think, sinking slowly further into your pool. You're just a pawn, running from point A to point B, carrying whatever baggage they pay you for."Slow, not stop," the white voice says, more in banter than censure, "the rook simply takes it in one turn."She sounds familiar. a stiff voice, used to command."She stopped the Gardener," the red voice responds, the words dripping into your pool like blood from a hanging corpse, "a rook if I ever saw one,and did she look like a pawn to you in the basement? No, Nicky, she'll make it across the board.">Surface [roll 1d100]>Sink
Rolled 27 (1d100)>>36690186>Surface
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>36690186>>Surface [roll 1d100]Is this that one chick we delivered the whatever it was to?
Rolled 48 (1d100)>>36690186>Surface
Rolled 3 (1d100)>>36690186>Surface [roll 1d100]
Rolled 12 (1d100)>>36690186>surface [roll 1d100
Rolled 20 (1d100)>>36690186>Surface [roll 1d100]
Well those are some underwhelming rolls.
Rolled 18 (1d100)>>36690186>>36690313We're gonna get high rolls when it doesn't matter, huh?
>>36690313What's that character from?
>>36690381Honestly have no idea.
Rolled 79 (1d100)>>36690186>Surface [roll 1d100]"glup"-laura
>>36690437That's about the size of it.Have fun drowning!
Rolled 12 (1d100)>>36690186HERE COME THE SNOWeven if it is a little late to the party
>>36690466I seriously hope that spoiler text was your idea of joke, HD.
Rolled 64 (1d100)>>36690186>>Surface [roll 1d100]HD stop giving us loaded dice you cheating bastard
>>36689651Someone want to cue this anon in to what each option in this one means? I'm lost a shit
Life calls. Hopefully I'll be back in an hour or so.Yes, >>36690466 was a joke.
>>36690851Then I'll be off to bed, hopefully the thread is still alive when I wake
>>36690882likewise this anon is heading off to work, thanks for the thread HD, looking forward to catching up on it later
>>36690851Wonderful, I can wipe the sweat from my brow now. I'll stick around for an hour or two yet to see who these spooky chess-bitches are, HD, you have intrigued me.
>>36690186You try to reach out to the voices, but your limbs ignore you, floating uselessly.The laughter of the gods assaults you as you sink down, down into the depths. Falling, slowly drowning into the liquid as the voices recede and the light fades.Darkness.Pigeons.Pigeons?You awaken, eyes wide shut, to the sound of the city's foremost aerial pests. You can feel soft sheets under you, over you, the comforting weight of a blanket over that.You're warm, not burning, just restfully warm. It seems like the first time in forever you haven't been at an extreme of temperature.Unfrozen at last, you lick your lips, listening to the strange little noises of the birds.But really, you're just enjoying the lazy feeling of lying in bed with nothing in particular to do and nowhere in particular you need to be. There's a voice somewhere in the distance, but you don't really care to try making out any of the words.After a while, you begin paying attention to it. It's a man's voice, muffled by a wall, probably."Yeah," he's telling someone, "she's a beaut. Been letting her rest a bit, but I can't wait to finally ride her until she screams."That's not exactly a statement you want to wake up to, coming from a stranger."She didn't come to me in the best condition," he continues, sounding like he's confiding a secret, "but it was a deal I couldn't pass up. And her sleek lines!"Anyone who sounds like that probably talks with their hands, even on the phone. Or maybe he's talking to himself, which makes it all even creepier."I don't think I've ever seen so much realized potential," he's declaiming, "everything's perfect!">Write In
>>36692280Move your big toe.Once you get that working? Get out of bed and kick this asshole trying to NTR our bike.
>>36692280Get ready to punch the bitch who is trying to steal our bike
>>36692280try to move.if we can actually get up, grab the first improvised weapon we can (pipe, rock, bottle, dildo...) and thank the guy for the compliments and ask him where our bike and the kid are
>>36692280Take stock of self, get to moving. Make self known.
>>36692280STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BIKE
>>36692280You better not be talking about my bike
>>36692280"Touch my bike and I end you."
>>36692280You wiggle your big toe. It dutifully waggles back and forth, no pain, no delay.None of the horrible grating of the carbon shards you half-expected.Suddenly, you jump to your feet atop the bed, opening your eyes. The room's dim, almost dark, the bed a pallet on the floor.That's rather familiar. The smell of engine oil even more so.But a quick glance around shows you that this isn't your room, despite its similarities. There's the pallet on the floor, an old-style paper calendar hanging on a nail on the wall, and a pile of old tools and other junk, stacked in disorder against one wall, just barely making room for your bed.You're standing on the bed, wearing a set of long-legged pajamas, which fit as well as those baggy garments ever do.And some fucker's talking about having his way with your bike.There's a large wrench atop the pile of tools. It fits your hand easily enough, the naked steel cold against your skin.Surprisingly, you feel better than you remember having felt in days, not even any aches or pains. The wrench feels good, solid.On your way toward the door, you notice a sleek red phone lying on the bed. You pick it up and glance at its blank screen for a second.>Check out the phone>Go deal with the guy in the next room - the phone can wait>Write In
>>36692756>Go deal with the guy in the next room - the phone can wait
Rolled 40 (1d100)>>36692756>>Check out the phoneJust in case, ya'know?
>>36692756>>Go deal with the guy in the next room - the phone can wait
>>36692756>>Write Inpick up the phone in one hand and the wrench in the other then see who is trying to molest our bike
>>36692871Supporting this, maybe pocket it first so we can clobber bitches better.
supporting >>36692871I know the reason most players went directly to "someone's after our bike" mode to avoid the obvious cliche, but I can't help but think that in Laura's mind, there was no other possibility other than that the guy was being a creep about HER bike.
>>36693035But someone is after OUR bike anon
>>36693127And I want to break his legs with a clear conscious and incriminating evidence in our free hand.
>>36693035You have to realize that most players don't want shit to happen to our bike. Gotta play IC, nigga. It was also pretty fucking obvious that he was talking about a bike.
>>36692756The phone can wait. The guy in the next room, who's still talking about your bike?He can't.You slip the phone into your pocket, and heft the wrench as you open the door. It's a tight hallway, with barely enough room for the door to open, but it's obvious which direction your host's voice is coming from.Barging through the next door, wrench raised, you yell out "Touch my bike and I end you!"Then your eyes take in the room. It's a fully-featured garage, with a couple of cars, sports cars at that, up on hydraulic jacks, gleaming racks of tools, what looks like a compressed air hookup hanging in a reel from the ceiling, and a wall clock with every hour marking penned as "get greasy".But none of that's important, compared to your bike, up on a stand in the center of the shop. It's shining, every metal surface polished to a mirror sheen, and looks like it's been under the care of an artist.
>>36693208"Oh Baby! You look beautiful!"
>>36693208That artist faces you, one earpiece of his aviators between parted lips, shirt wide open, exposing an sleek set of muscles slick with sweat and engine oil, covered only by a thin black tie.Your eyes follow its lead and trail down his chiseled abs to the half-unzipped fly of his black slacks. They're tight enough to hide almost as much as his shirt."Sorry to say I've had my hands over every inch of her already," he says, and your eyes snap back to his face, "but in my defense, she needed a lot of tender, loving care.">Clobber him with the wrench>What did you do?>Well, thanks for giving it>Where am I, and who are you?
>>36693331>Well, thanks for giving it>Where am I, and who are you?Can't hurt a man who fixed our baby up.
>>36693331>>What did you do?>>Where am I, and who are you?You may have noticed I was not fully aware of my surrounding when I was brought here. Kindly bring me up to speed.
>>36693331>>Well, thanks for giving it>Where am I, and who are you?
>>36693331>>Well, thanks for giving it>>Where am I, and who are you?he was good to bike-chan, he can live... for now
>>36693331>Well, thanks for giving it"but she's MINE">Where am I, and who are you? a bit of jealousy is always nice
Quick vote.Do you identify your bike as:>He>She>It
>>36693500Wait what? How does that work? Huh interesting to think about
>>36693452He.Had my fill of Yuri protags thank you.
>>36693452>Hemostly for that one piston
>>36693331"Well," you say, "thanks for giving it to him."You catch a shadowed look flit across his face, giving him a positively dangerous air as the glasses hit the concrete floor."Him?" he asks, an eyebrow cocked at you, "oh, I think you're mistaken. I've had my hands all over HER, and she yielded to me so prettily too.""He's mine," you tell him, crossing your arms across your chest, "and I think I would know. You've only been around him for," and then you stop short, realizing that you don't actually know how long its been since the debacle underground, "how long has it been, anyway? And where am I? And who are you?""Oh," he says, leaning forward on a workbench, a pose which shows off his toned body to perfection, "I'm Matt, and you can guess what I do for a living," he intones, sweeping his free hand around in a broad gesture that takes in the entire workshop, "cars, motorcycles, even haulers, I do them all.""I thought you might be an asset," you tell him, eyes glancing along his necktie, "or perhaps a landlord."He bursts out laughing at this. "Me?" he asks, ripping the tie off with one hand and flinging it at a hook across the room, "a landlord? Not quite that. Taking you in was part of the deal they made with me. You've slept straight through the two days since the y dropped you off. Not that I'm complaining," he says with a smile, "means I haven't had to go above my usual bachelor-standard cooking yet.""They?" you ask, watching the tendons in his neck flex, as you perch yourself on another workbench.
>>36694072"Your bike was a special project," he says, leveling his gaze at you, "it was delivered in pieces, and only metal pieces at that. Nothing carbon based. Now why might that be, hmm?" he asks, a single droplet of sweat beading down his oiled chest and dying on his open fly.You can feel a few beads forming on your own forehead.It is pretty hot in here, you realize, especially in these long pajamas.>Do something about that>"They?">A girl's got to have her secrets>Write In
>>36694088>"They?"You haven't answered the question.
>>36694088>A girl's got to have her secrets
>>36694088>>Do something about that>>"They?Just let Haiku have this. For once. Let's stay on the rails.
>>36694088>"They?">Do something about that
>>36694088>Do something about that
>>36694088>do something and "they"Posting from fone currentlyWondering what to make of Matt, bro or rival to beat down and use as a mattress to fuck our bike on?
>>36694088"They?" you ask, rolling up the pajamas' sleeves. Even the shop's warm air feels good, compared to the insulation of the flannel garment."They," he tells you, "dropped you and your bike off, gave me a good deal of money, and told me not to ask questions. Frankly," he says, running a hand through his slicked-back hair, "I don't remember what they looked like. They just wanted me to put you up for a bit, while I worked on your bike - didn't even tell me your name. What is it, by the way?"The question takes you by surprise, offered from two feet above the pectorals you're staring at. "Laura," you tell him, quickly raising your eyes to meet his, flushing a little, "I'm a courier.""Oh," he says, straightening up, "I think I've heard of you," you hear from his shirt-covered back. Seems he's looking for something in one of the tool racks.You take the opportunity to undo a couple of buttons on the pajama top while he's not looking. That woud send signals you're not entirely sure you want to transmit to this guy.Suddenly, he turns around, something silver in his hand, pointing it at you and pulling the trigger before you can tel what it is.Your hair blows back, and the flannel pajamas flap against you as the cool compressed air washes over you.It feels great on your bare skin."Gets a bit hot in here sometimes," Matt says with a grin, turning the nozzle on himself, "especially on unseasonably warm days like this. Sorry I can't be much help about the people who dropped you off.""That's alright," you tell him, as he turns the air back on you. you understand professional ethics.And sunglasses, blacked-out cars, and bulky garments."Well," he says, tossing the nozzle to you, "now that we know each other, I might as well feed you," he says, walking past you into the hallway, "It's what I'm being paid for, after all," you hear from his back.>Follow him>Check out the phone>GTFO on your bike>Write In
>>36694617>Follow him>Check out the phoneWhy are the correct options always the top two? The bottom ones are always something like, "physically assault your crying subordinate while she's having an emotional break-down," or "leave your father to die while you pursue a fleeting ghost of a lead."
>>36694617>Follow him>Check out the phone
adjectives adjectives adjectives adjectivesyou guys seem nice but i don't trust what's happening in these threads
>>36694665>correct options>implying beating up Eliza wouldn't have made her likely to betray Raynard and join up with Laura>implying Davey's death wouldn't have been a massive plot driver>implying this creepy fuck isn't going to slip something in our food and rape us>implying the most violent options aren't the most interesting>implying there isn't a bigass plot hook waiting for us right outside the garage>>36694691You lost me.
>>36694617>META POSTI'm gonna have to call the thread here - Circumstances have forced my hand.Turns out I didn't have that much time to run today.Next thread will begin with the most-voted option at the end of this thread.I'm happy to be back with Laura, and things only get more interesting from here.>SESSION STATSPROFESSIONAL RANKING: BANKEDBONUS OBJECTIVES CLEARED: All-Natural; Red Queen I; Sinking Feeling; Better Not Be Talking 'Bout My Bike; Matt; It's Getting Hot In HereSTYLE POINTS: 700OVERALL RANKING: BOISTEROUSLY BANKED!TOTAL STYLE POINTS: 7200>LINKSTwitter(for quest news, not my political views): https://twitter.com/HaikuDelugeArchive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20QuestQuestions (the best way to ask me things, and generally get things to me that I'm guaranteed to read): http://ask.fm/haikudeluge>OTHER THINGS>the queen voteIt's not binding in any way.It determined the color of your new phone.>>36694187>railsIt's one option of many. There are multiple paths to explore.Don't try to pick the option I seem to want, pick the option you want. If I wanted to make the decisions myself, I'd write a novel.A good deal of the interesting stuff here has come form write-ins (most recently, Raynard's signature weapon being his augmented fists). >>36694665>always the top twoI need to fix that. The lower options are usually the ones that take longer to occur to me.That doesn't necessarily mean they're bad options. >>36694732 got pretty close on a couple of those implications.
>>36694947Thanks for running chief. And don't worry, both of those posts were in jest, just talking about the general tendency my fellow players like to vote in certain ways.
>>36694947thanks for running, shame you're stopping
>>36694947Thanks for running
>>36694947Thanks for the thread HD, I just caught up with it. I was wondering what the queen choice would have been, was wondering if it would be the color of the bike, but I guess that's what red queen 2/3 would be
>>36694617>>Follow him>>Check out the phone
>>36694732I instantly want Laura to ingest anything he gives us without a second thought.