HOLY SHIT

Time to read this shit. I love you, OP.

Please don't let this die.
I want to participate, but the livestream of a press conference will start in two minutes.

lay low, shit cleaning is for plebs

>>32238823

Shit I missed the last one! Fuck. I was one of the dudes who choose to off some CEO.

The fuck happened!?

Lay low.

Dis gon b gud.

>>32239279
thread is kill

>>32239341
Oh no it's not!

>>32239279
>>32239136
>Lay low it is

Backtracking towards the metro station is not going to be easy, with all the Feds swarming to your location. You run off to one of the alleyways between domescrappers, the smell of trash and alcoholic bums making you feel slightly at home. Street smart individual that you are, you navigate between the confined corridors towards..

>A source of crappy dubstep. Must be workers having their night off.
>A darker corner smelling of weed. You might find companions to lay low with. How rusty are your ebonics again..?

>>32239521

>A Source of crappy dubstep

Negros can be touchy about their spliff spots

>>32239521
>A darker corner smelling of weed.
I GOT TWO STATES OF MIND
STONED AND ASLEEP

Rolled 47

>>32238823
>259000 Brouzouf
two hundred and fifty nine thousand

thanks to that typo we are now significantly richer

>Lay low in the high town. Try to find a worker's pub or something somewhere.

>>32239521
>A source of crappy dubstep. Must be workers having their night off.

>>32239916
>I was going to treat that typo as such, regardless. Thanks for noticing. Back to typing.

Judging the trade-off between additional bodies and the consequences explaining why you're followed by an overactive mute with a Motra and covered in an assortment of bruises not in your favor, you decide to head off towards the source of noise pollution. You skirt out of the way of a few bums and groan in irritation as they yell at your clone, the idiot not grasping the concept of not running into actual people. A few turns left and right, and you are greeted to a rather bizarre entrance. Random asiatic characters, at least as far as you know, are painted in an awning over the entrance to a strange mixture between a poor man's sushi bar, and a disco.

Well, things can't easily get worse. You enter the place. A mess of blue-collar workers on the bar counter shout drunkenly at each other, and occasionally shout unproper words at the black-eyed girl in an anachronic asiatic dress diligently cutting up fish and preparing it in rice rolls while doubling as a bartender and serving drinks. Further into the establishment, a disco ball spins in a small dancing room, where a bunch of people dance rather poorly to the blares of the sound system autoplaying a pre-arranged tune. You won't get rest here, but your clone actually seems smart- you remove its Motra, just in case. It hangs close by, like a puppy begging for its toy.

>Chat up the patrons.
>Hit the dance floor and.. Thrash around.
>Chat up the female shokunin.
>Other

>>32240193
>Chat up the female shokunin.

>>32240193
>[X] Chat up the female shokunin.
Yes time to diplomance.

>>32240193

>Chat up the shokunin

Hold up, wait a minute. Lemmi put some pimpin' in it.

>>32240239
>>32240457
By both merit and lack of competition, the girl braving away at the fish and drinks gains your attention. A petite individual bearing signs of sleep deprivation and pent-up stress, her hair is tied back in a practical rather than anachronistic knot, both preventing hair falling down on the food and exposing her round face. "Good eve-"

"Okaerinasaimase, goshujinsama." She interrupts you as you greet her, in a rather forced and tired nasally voice. No one seems to find it strange, and one patron even breaks out of his diatribe about his cheating colonist wife to order another drink. "I have no idea what you just said."

She glances up to you for a mere moment. "It means 'hi, customer.' According to father. Ordering something?" Her voice quivers ever so slightly as she looks at the digital clock pinned to a wall near the entrance.

>Just order something and be quiet
>Order something and query her about life
>Other

>Menu:
>Sashimi roll and beer: 10 brouzouf
>Chirashizushi (bowl of sushi rice with raw seafood on top) and shot: 50 brouzouf
>Squid tentacles: 60 brouzouf
>Coffee: 1 brouzouf

>>32240858
>Order something and query her about life
>Sashimi roll and beer: 10 brouzouf

>>32240944
Works for me.

>>32240858
>Coffee: 1 brouzouf
"And my wife used to tell me 'Kusse' was my name in Danish, but you know"

>>32240858
Is our face still wrecked?

>>32241008
>I'm afraid so

>>32241063
So we just walked into a sushi bar, with a wrecked face and a guy that looks retarded following us? Do we blend?

>>32241095
Maybe we should just unsummon the clone.

Well, obviously not out in the open, but when we have a chance.

>>32241128
>Space Hulk FPS
Oh? colour me intrigued

Rolled 2

>>32241095
This is the E.Y.Everse, you're a pedestrian sight at worst

>>32240944
>>32240989
1 for sashimi, 2 for coffee. Typing accordingly if no tie breaker until I post.

>>32241201
>1 for sashimi, 2 for coffee
uhh, there were 2 votes for sashimi and beer

>>32240964
is seconding >>32240944

>>32241236
>Obviously your QM needs 1 brouzouf for coffee.....

When was the last time you ate some of that weeb shit? Now that you think about it, you never did eat raw fish. You're not completely sure you've ate a lot of non-synthesized fish, either. Might as well try out the least outlandish bit of the menu. Besides coffee. "I'll have that sashumi and beer thing."

"Sashimi." The girl corrects you. The weird wussy twists of whatever language these terms came from is too at odds with the common language to your taste. Oh well, she's not the only one who knows a thing or two about dead languages. "Well, my wife used to tell me 'Kusse' was my name in Danish. But you know.." You shrug non-chalantly. After a few moments of slicing off a block of tuna fish into the bits you ordered, she glances momentarily at you. "What does it mean?"

"It's something I like petting." You'd smile your most suggestive smile, but you're actually too ginger for that. Instead you stop midway and wince. "So, we're both having a hard night?" You query. Quietly, she return to her work, serving you a tall glass of beer. "It's going to get harder. We close in ten minutes." That doesn't seem so hard, does it? "You should eat quickly and leave before that. The Trip-n-Fall Indians hate outsiders."

That sounds like something a looter would come up with... "It's almost time, everyone." She calls out. Even as the ching-chong wub-wub in the background continues to blare out, the mood of the bar changes dramatically. Quietly, the patrons line up to pay their bills, and thank the hostess for her work. The atmosphere would dull her sushi blade if any attempts to cut it were made.

>Eat up, and look for another place to stay. This isn't fit for low-laying
>Eat at your pace. You have a daisho, that means you're a samurai, and you bow to no looters

>>32241537
>>Eat up, and look for another place to stay. This isn't fit for low-laying
move with the crowd, use them for cover

>>32241537
>>Eat up, and look for another place to stay. This isn't fit for low-laying
No need for more trouble tonight. At least, trouble that's not going to gain us any brozouf.

>>32241643
>>32241664
>Guess no waifufaggotry selling out just yet.

This isn't your fight. As good as the food is, doubly so considering the circumstances, you wouldn't last as long as you have for stepping on toes for the sake of white knight antics. In fact, isn't the cause of every great fall a woman? No way you're going to fall for the oldest trick in the book! You swallow down your beer, it will help dull your senses. "Ten brouzouf. Here." You hand over some coins to the girl. Surprisingly enough, hard currency hasn't dissappeared yet, although it's steadily being phased out for cyberbrain plugins. Which you don't own yet.

"Please come back soon." She manages to utter, as mechanically as her cooking yet half as heartfelt. You hand over the money and leave with the crowd. The march out of the 'ching-chong wub-wub' is remarkably solemn for a crowd leaving a place of butchered culture and lowbrow entertainment. "How much did Mei-Zhen do tonight?" One asks. Someone mutters what amounts to a moderate amount of Brouzouf. It only serves to darken the mood.

>Stick around with the crowd, and head towards one of the hab blocks with them.
>Ask if anyone's heading back to the Moonshine Avenue or near-abouts.

>>32242133
>Ask if anyone's heading back to the Moonshine Avenue or near-abouts.

Might as well make a friend or two.

>>32242133
>>Ask if anyone's heading back to the Moonshine Avenue or near-abouts.

>>32242133
>Ask if anyone's heading back to the Moonshine Avenue or near-abouts.

>>32242133
You still here?

>>32242133
Don't fucking die, Captain.

>>32243332
>>32243357
Sorry, dinner and nuisances conspiring against me... I am halfway with the next update

>>32242304
>>32242466
>>32243288
Judging the procession you're in too funerary, and hoping to get some company to blend in, or at worst toss at a Fed's Depezador, you try to strike a conversation with the people around you. "So, anyone heading off back to Moonshine Avenue? Or you're more of a Vodka Street bunch?" Might not be smart to drop the name of a street that's traditionally rivalled your own, but hey...

You get a few humourless laughing grunts at the names of your neighbourhood, having been thus called by the lower strata in lieu of efforts at official naming documentation. "I happen to be a son of Vodka, wanna talk about that?" An individual with vestigial traces of alcohol fetal syndrome pipes in. You have a few choice things you could bring up, personal and clannish, but you're too bruised and tired to pick a fight, friendly or not. "Yeah, you people never buy me a ticket back home from work, not even when I bust my ass and my face."

"Well, that won't do! We can get ourselves a good seat at this time of the night in the metro!" Which incidentally works all around the clock to deport workers back to their outdome hovels. "I just have enough in me for three seats." Oh yeah. The clone.

"One second," you ask. A hurried turn out of sight, a loud "see you around, Chunky Monkey old pal!" and a puff of smoke, and whatever class of being your brainless murderer companion was is no more. You hurry back to your new friend, whose name you didn't catch, and who along with the rest of the "crew" is giving you an odd look. "He's not a normal person."

You two split from the group and head back to a metro station. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, the Feds have taken to hunting down other criminals, possibly friends of the Trip-n-Fall Indians who were terrifying the bartender. And you suspect either Muut or most likely your employer had a hand in diverting their attention to other issues. [1/2]

>>32243671
You allow your friend Peggingsworth (funny name that) to pay for your ticket back home. Although you'll have to walk a bit longer than usual this time, as he insisted you taste the joys of Vodka. Eh, just as well. What harm could come out of this?

With a companion to chat with, the otherwise dull, solitary and outright oppressive underground trip becomes much more bearable. Shame for the time it takes though. After some small talk, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Your head drops a few times, until you finally stop resisting and go to sleep...

...

>>32243843
Shit, time for more ads.
And cycle of grief before that. Or whatever the hell the actual game was.

I want to one day one-up E.Y.E.

>>32243882
Well, at least we have enough brouzouf to get better cybereyes now.

>>32244073
I wonder if we'll also get EXP.

Also, our first implant should be obvious, after getting proper cyber eyes:
Cyber legs.
Nothing is better than jumping around like original Superman.

File: megalopolis.jpg (887 KB, 1600x900)

887 KB JPG

...

"We're leaving?" Slavikovich, your team's Divine Assassin, is currently glaring at you in a manner suggesting you to be his next target. "Yes. We have what we came for, safekeeping the city is not a part of our mission parameters." You reply, fighting your urge to draw your Bear Killer on him.

"Our -purpose- as Culter Dei, as E.Y.E., as the iron fist of the Secreta, is to combat the Metastreumonic threat. And look!" He points out to a crater in the wall of the delerict building you're in. "At least ten Deus Ex Machinas are destroying what's left of this godforsaken place! Not counting the Manducos and Perigrums flooding the streets and devouring stragglers, the Synicles gunning down what Federal troopers remain, and Secreta knows best what the Carnophages are up to." He was right, of course. This evacuation was going to be a slaughter.

Dhul Saif, the Divine Talion, is unusually quiet. You know him well enough to know he's sitting this one out. Your other companion, a Jian by the name of Gao Feng, seems frankly disinterested in your quarrels, and in fact can't hear you while cyberthralling shocktroopers to guard your location.

>Give in to Slavi's demands. The package you were sent to retrieve ASAP may be lost in the fighting.
>Refuse and order Slavikovich restrained.

>You currently have a Bear Killer and K.A. 93. Slavi has a BOSCO and Motra. Dhul-Dhul has his trademark Excidium. The filthy Jian has a Schproutz and several Scrabs hovering around him.

>>32244166
>EXP and classes and whatnot are going to be a lot more abstract than the videogame, unless you want me to post even slower on account of dealing with an actual ruleset.

>>32244242
>Refuse and and let Slavikovich do what he wants. but the rest of the squad is completing the mission.

>>32244242
>Refuse and order Slavikovich restrained.
The mission has priority. Our higher ups know what they're doing, and frankly, we can't take the lot of those fuckers out there.

>>32244319
Seconded.

>>32244242
Let Slavi go with Dhul. We fullfill the mission with the Jian scum.

>>32244319
>>32244373
>>32244571
>Mixing these up due to thematic similarities

You stare at your underling with enough anger to make the most doped up looter wilt. As expected, Slavi's returning your stare with just as much intensity. You're not going to get his damn head off of this. "Anyone who volunteers to aid in the Federal evacuation of New Damascus, stand to."

Unsurprisingly, Slavi stands to. Not particularly surprising either, Dhul-Dhul follows suite. The Jian scumbag just stands there like a creep, muttering tech-hexes and weird anti-social babblings. "You are fully aware that your cavalier disregard for mission objectives, as well as your own lives, will be held up against you should any trial be held if you secure transportation back to the Temple Headquarters." You sigh. "Off the record remark: I hate both your guts."

"We hate you too." The three of you clasp each other's shoulders. "We'll make it, Ivan. As we did back in Scribblers' Bay." You laugh morbidly at Dhul Saif's words. "You mean, that one time you lost a leg and a testicle to a stray shot?" He merely groans in response.

"The Interceptor's leaving in 5 minutes." You're the first to unclasp his hands. "Send them back to the hell that spawned them, brothers." Silently, your friends cloak themselves and jump out of the hole, heading to face off the Metastreums in what is tantamount to a forlorn hope. In normal conditions you would put your faith in bullets, but this time you can only pray to the Secreta for their victory and safe return.

"Proceeding to extraction point." You message the Jian over radio. The freak just mumbles his acknowledgement in some weird affirmative sounding grunt. The pair of your head out towards the ceiling of the building.

It's only one floor up the stairway that suddenly the building begins to shake to the sound of rythmic stomps. You suspect what that might mean...

>Seek out and dispatch of the KraakNagul, safeguard the building integrity
>Rush to the evac zone

>>32245253
Man, I love the characterization.

Can we use the building as a weapon while rushing to the evac zone? We have a bear killer and a swarm of scrabs. Let's destroy the support pillers while evacing.

>>32245379
You can, but you might suffer some indignities in your way up.

>>32245561
>indignities
Indignity as in "loss of a resurrector" or indignity as in "we fall down the collapsing stairs and the enemy laughs in our face"?

File: smug.png (23 KB, 435x445)

23 KB PNG

>>32245661
Need they be mutually exclusive?

>>32245253
>KraakNagul
What type of enemy was that again? The giant ones with the hammers?

>>32245253
>Rush to the evac zone

Is there a wiki I can read to familiarize myself with the setting?

>>32245733
Yep.

Tiebreaking with a roll in 5 minutes to expedite things

>>32245825
>>32245733

http://eyedivinecybermancy.wikia.com/wiki/E.Y.E:_Divine_Cybermancy_Wiki

The Kraak is a minotaur who wields dual war hammers.

>>32245825
http://eyedivinecybermancy.wikia.com/wiki/E.Y.E:_Divine_Cybermancy_Wiki

>>32245839

Rush to the Evac Zone, fuck the Kraaknagul

>>32245839
Then I vote to go to the evac zone, while letting the scrabs loose to distract the enemy by shooting at its feet.
Tell the things to stay out of its reach and follow a few minutes later.

>>32245825
You don't need a wiki.
E.Y.E. is already in your heart. Like that moment when you first tried to interact with other adults and then found out that punching someone in the face might lead to death and reincarnation.

>>32245253
>>Rush to the evac zone

>By popular demand, running away it is.

You look up the staircase. Ten more floors to go. You can make it, if you're fast. The building on the other hand is not going to take a lot of abuse. "You, freak. Send some of those bugs of yours as a distraction." You motion for the scrabs hovering about like flies on- for whatever reason you don't want to finish that thought. The silent non-acknowledgement of your insults doesn't so much get under your skin as it inadvertently activates your targetting system, as the Jian complies with your order. The scrabal units fan out and towards the lower floors.

Swearing a less than sacred swear, you take a deep breath and prepare to scramble, just as the monsters below stomp all the harder beneath the laser and machine gun fire of the scrabs. "Follow in my every jump." You draw your assault rifle and shoot a piece of walkway out of your trajectory. You crouch, and then propel yourself at least two stories high. You repeat the process time and again, followed suit by the Jian until you reach the end of the staircase. None too soon either. What you can only assume is one bad hammer swing shook the building to its core. You hear the sound of masonry crumbling under its own weight somewhere. "Leg it, freakazoid!"

You slam open the one door in the top floor, hoping it leads to the exit in the ceiling. Before that, you will have to brave a control room, its half-devoured zombie occupants, and at least five carnophages stammering their teeth in anticipation of fresh meat. So that was what they were up to...

>You have to finish this fight fast. Roll 1d100 and choose a course of action

Rolled 14

>>32246398
Can I have a description of the room please, such as physical features.

>>32246571
>With such a humble roll, you do not quite detect something outstanding. Mostly there are around 8 bloodied terminals and a bunch of zombies shambling towards you, some of which getting shoved out of the way by the carnophages. There are two doors the other side of the room, but alas, the 'exit' sign pointing to which is the door you want is currently covered by a piece of lung that got stuck on it.

Rolled 27

>>32246398
>Fight it out!

>>32246784
Alright, I'm a look up our load out and enemies on the wiki.

>>32246849
>K.A. 93
>>32246398
Alright, crouch and start shooting at the carnophage's heads, then when the zombies or phages get close stand up and use automatic fire to suppress. Have our other guy focusing on killing the carnophages at all times, we'll switch to suppressing the zombies when we have to.

Rolled 69

>>32246980
Roll if needed.

>>32246835
>>32247048
>avg 48. not a total defeat, but you'll have a setback.

You drop to one knee, and unload a revolver full of 444k rounds onto the lupine skulls of the Metastreums. "Precision fire on the carnophage heads, now!" Complying, the Jian quasi-heretic fires a staccato of accurate semi-auto fire at his marks. Not pausing to reload the Bear Killer, you switch to the assault rifle and fire burst after burst at the nearest monster's head. You smile under your helmet as one after another, the werewolves collapse on the floor.

CLICK.

Just as the zombies break forward into a dash, you hear the hated sound of your weapon running out of ammo. You quickly take a hold of the nearest object, a half-broken chair, and hurl it at the zombie closest to you with your psi ability. You can't help but thank the Secreta for the time spent in rigorous, dull, esoteric training, which turned this orthopedic furniture into an instrument of beheading. Alas, there are more zombies from whence that one came.

"The Carnophages were playing dead." It's the first time you heard the Jian speak out during the mission. Derisively, you notice some of the ones having their cerebral ventilation coagulate and reknit at breakneck speed were his own work. Never trust a Jian.

The zombies are attempting to grab a hold of your limbs. Presumably to set you up for their lycanthropic masters' death blow.

>Dragon your way to the furthest living wolf. 1d100, chance of psi shock if critical fail
>Draw your Damocles and cut them off of you.
>Attempt to psi-push a path to the end of the room. Choose door: left or right

>You may give an order to the Jian

Rolled 37

>>32247614

Order the Jian to reposition and provide cover

>Draw your Damocles, close quarters. Use your damn sword.

Rolled 67

>>32248017
Seconding.

>>32248017
>>32248153
"Dog fucker!" For the life of you, you can't recall his actual name. "Give me cover fire while I dispatch these monsters!" You draw your sword, and begin hacking at the zombies, detonating what's left of their carcasses left and right with the swings of your sword. Fuck, they didn't seem as many as when you first entered the room. You couldn't believe the room could get any more of a charnel house either, but the path you cut for yourself tells a different tale.

A carnophage charges at you. You extend your blade, and let him sink his own throat on the tip of your blade, and witness with glee as the force field of the weapon bissects its skull and neck. Describing that is going to sound weird on the after action report. Assuming you get out, that is. You rush to the left door, the one with the least amount of carnophage interlopers between itself and you. You open it, and are momentarily blinded by the daylight upon exiting a dark room. When you come to, the Interceptor is just hovering inches above the floor, inviting you to enter.

As you rush towards it, suddenly it seems to fly away. Vertigo assaults your senses, and you are deafened by the roar of crumbling masonry.

...

...

Your eye lenses focus back to your immediate surroundings. Funny, you don't actually recall a time when you heard them hum like this. Your HUD is dead. You don't need its damage estimates to know how bad you are. You can deduce from the agonizing synthetic pain coarsing through what remains of your body parts.

And the surroundings. As far as the eye can see. Discarded, hastily undone, cyborgs litter the landscape. Ruins of rock towers abound, unidentifiable from the ravages of time.

A pain in the back of your cyberbrain diverts your attention for a moment.

...

...

Your incarcerated form comes to spurred by the shocks to your optical nerve. "No connection to server." This would be good in any other context. The shocks are even milder than usual this morning. Alas, the smell of burned out circuitry and plastic on fire inform you that your fortunes are not what you would expect. Kicking the disjointed piece of carriage wall over you away, and thanking whatever thing is hip to thank this week, you easily uncover your fate.

A trainwreck, literally. Whatever happened, the metro derailed. You are assaulted by a wave of unease. You can hardly see anything at a significant distance away, with the red flashing lights of the tunnel providing meager and momentary lighting. You do spot something nearby though. Impalled in a twisted lump of rail, your friend Peggingsworth lives up to his name as a fresh corpse. His wallet is up for grabs.

>You gain brouzouf. 2456 to be more precise.

The realization that you are all too alone in this place fills you with unease. The smell of blood does nothing to stop your imagination from running wild with what lurks away in the rails. The devourers of corpses feasting on the suicidal dead. It's funny... Some of the lights far ahead seem to move..

Thread is over for the night. I'll run again when I can squeeze in some time in-between worktimes. Feel free to say what sucked and what was comparatively fine. Follow @CaptainBrouzouf for info on threads.

Nice.