Just a warning:
You posted right when the Germany vs USA World Cup game began.

>>33020042
So, did you forget the prompt or will you do an additional post?

>>33020106
He's got another post brewing.

>>33020042
"Alright, so what's the plan?" You ask of your on-and-off employer. "You're going to join the rest of the boys and take out one of their businesses in nearby Vodka Street. A whorehouse. Try to get some girls back to me, and I might even forget you left me out to hang with the Feds."

How kind. "When's the hit then?"

"Later tonight. Get your ass near the old gazebo by then, you're going through the old path." Namely, the service tunnels of the earliest days of the planet's colonization mid-terraforming, falling into disrepair.

Ned looks at you silently. "What're you waiting for, a kiss? You got your hit, now get the fuck outta my office!" You know better than to poke him when he's getting shitfaced in his private quarters.

As you leave, you enumerate your options.

>Take a trip to the gunshop and see if you can find something to go with your Rotten Mound
>Try to get your scrab fit for combat duty
>Procure some form of combat drug. You know Ned's boys like that kind of shit
>Other

>You also have a Damocles in your room. My bad.

>>33020087
>divegrass is a blight upon mankind

>>33020311
I wonder if we'll be able to get something decent for our Brouzouf.

>Take a trip to the gunshop and see if you can find something to go with your Rotten Mound

>>33020311
Get our Scrab usable.
We need to get more minions to call in at any time!

>>33020333
>>33020466
>Rolling for tiebreak in 5 minutes

Rolled 2

>>33020599
1-Armory
2-Scrab Fix

Rollan and writan

>>33020683
Well damn.

>>33020701
>Can't have it all
>>33020683
You stare at the drug-addled, afro-toting, monocle-wearing moron holding a double-barreled shotgun in front of you for a second. This kind of creature will be your fighting companion tonight. "Wat'cha lookin' at mate? Ya want sum fuk?" This will not do. These neanderthals can barely keep themselves conscious enough to keep shooting, let alone watch your back. You need something you can trust. Something with an iota of intellect.

Your scrab. He might even have one bullet left in its weapon chamber. "Not into bipedal hominids, sorry." You make your leave from Nasty Ned's before he can comprehend what you said.

An uneventful walk into your quarters later, you look for your soon-to-be companion in arms. Deactivated, bearing slight hull deformities from your vigorous swipes every morning, and in a general state of disrepair. You fiddle with its passkey interface, typing a long sequence of 69s, the number being the amount of Brouzouf you had after purchasing it. You had to cope with this stupid idea somehow.

"Wake up you dumb motherfucker!" Even before its gravitational systems whirr to life, the scrabal unit's wake-up message blares out in all its obnoxious tone. "Wake up you dumb motherfucker!" You really are one, setting up that fucking message. "Wake up you dumb motherfucker!" Alright, calm down and take a deep breath. You can activate its options mode by uttering the sequence FJ9PJCZX- "Wake up you dumb motherfucker!" AAARGGH!

>Hit it with a modicum of force in the hopes it's wake-up call program deactivates. 1d100, 31 <= score <= 65 to succeed.
>Try to procure the options manual.

>>33021102
>Ya want sum fuk?
Reminds me of the threat "I'll fuck you". It was so retarded that I laughed the first time someone threatened me like that.
Was worth it.

Try the options manual.
No damaging our buddy.

>>33021102
Seconding the options manual.

>>33021203
>>33021214
All too eager to get away from the clamoring scrab's futile and redundant commands, you leave to find the thing's manual. If you can hear yourself thinking where you put it over the electronic mockery of your own voice that is. It's not under your futon. It's not somewhere amidst either the terrible pile of clothes or the slightly less bloodied and hole-riddled pile either. Neither did you leave it in one pocket of your pairs of fatigues.

Under the fridge? Maybe. Or maybe... You feel like an idiot. It's not a freaking paper manual, it's available online! The looters' stupidity must be infecting you. Heading off to your terminal, you access ZedeenGoth's cyberspace page. A bunch of women clad in tryhard scant clothing attempting to look like some sort of sexy monstrous bloodsucker or whatever it is they're trying to look like motion alluringly to the new products. However, what you're interested in is the goblin meekly pointing at the support page.

Sighing, losing your patience with the retarded scrab, you seek its manual page. "To open config: say the sequence FJ9PJCZX79JNKEOGMT89VAMP". Pretty hard to open by accident, that's for sure. You grab the thing, and drag it close to the terminal as you can't bring yourself to memorize the thing. And as if by the magical workings of a demon-enthralling vampire queen, the metallic creature held less than lovingly in your hand ceases its chattering.

With it's holographic lens, the scrab produces a menu detailing its installed apps, general statuses and overall working condition. Your battering has done some damage in its output devices, as the menu flickers regularly and intensely enough to produce a faint feeling of nausea. Surprisingly enough, the scrab's bullet chamber is loaded. And to think you have been slapping a loaded gun system all this time... You press the "Quit and Save" option. Next order of business-

"Finally!" You blink. Did the scrab.. speak?
[1/2]

>>33021666
>Surprisingly enough, the scrab's bullet chamber is loaded.
>And to think you have been slapping a loaded gun system all this time...
>"Finally!" You blink. Did the scrab.. speak?
Oh god.

>>33021666
"Master, I was wondering when you'd get around to reading the damn manual!" This is surreal... "Can you imagine what would happen if my CPU was damaged at some point? I'd lose my AI system! I'd be basically dead!" You're actually watching a scrab complaining about its mistreatment. "Not to say anything of that stupid message you recorded. I don't think I'll ever run a more embarassing routine in my artificial life!"

You stare quietly at each other for a while. "How are you-"

"My config menu automatically activates the AI module upon saving. It's a bug, essentially." Well that simplifies things.

No it doesn't!

>Artificially sentient scrab. What do?

>Try to talk to it about something. Specify theme.
>Look for a way to deactivate the AI module and let it run strictly on routines. He can potentially find issue with that initiative. Specify method.
>Other

>>33021812
>Try to talk to it about something. Like hacking.

>>33021812
Apologize for his mistreatment.
"So, are you supposed to be self-aware or is the AI bug a glaring oversight from the design process?"
Also, talk about how good he's at shooting stuff and tactics and if he knows anything about Thaumaturgy.

>>33021852
>>33021920
The vague feeling of guilt you had experienced while beating up your acquisition, greatly mitigated by the expediency of shutting it up, slowly mutates into a growing sense of remorse. As questionably moral as you are, mistreating a defenseless consciousness is not something you'd take joy in. "I'm.." What to say, though? What do the gangsters say of the Feds again..? Oh yeah. "I'm sorry for my cruel and unusual punishment every morning for the past few months."

The scrab stares at you quietly. "Why?"

"Why 'why'?"

"I lack a vindication desire towards my registered owner. In this case, you master." That's good to know. "At least off the factory. My AI model is ever-learning, up to 50 Terabytes of Neuronal Networking." You decide to change the subject, fast. "Were you supposed to be self-aware all along, or was this all just a glaring oversight from the menu chaps?"

"Second conditional parameter applies." What..? "Glaring oversight, master." The damn thing manages to sound patronizing, for all its electronic voice synthesizing. "How good are you at shooting stuff?" You want to know, in case it decides to run amok in your house. "I can fire accurately at a distance of 100 metres. My weapon module is a non-silenced adaptation of the Motra firing system. Additionally, I can triangulate sounds to accurately locate enemies in 3D space, making me an excellent hunter-killer, in both clean up and ambush detection roles." The cheerful tone reminds you of the manufacturer's commercials.

"Do you know anything about Thaumaturgy?"

"Negative."

That was fast.

"What of hacking?"

"This unit's firewall is currently out of date. The possibility of being hacked is ever-present, and should not be underestimated." A mental image of Muut's technoslaves springs to mind. "I would advise downloading a firmware update and renewing my yearly firewall licence. It will cost you a measly 5000 Brouzouf."

>Pay for the updates.
>No hackers will mess with you! Right?

>>33022394
If something started hacking it, would we be able to tell?
And then start counter-hacking?

>>33022394
pay for the updates, vowing to get the brouzouf back on your next outing and making the scrab earn its keep

>>33022394
Well, might as well pay. As long as it's a yearly thing.

>>33022394
Pay for the updates and mentally note that we need to learn a bit about cyber security, even if not hacking.

>>33022394
Actually, can we employ our Scrab?
Tell it that it has to pay for itself. It can keep 80% of the money it earns, provided that it pays for its own maintenance, including firewall updates.

>>33022481
>>33022505
>>33022606
>>33022619
>>33022638
>One second, let me process all of this before writan

>>33022891
You judge the pros and cons of this investment. All in all, the doors opened by having an armed and loaded sentient minion that is less likely to be turned against you are too many and too tempting to be stingy with it. "After this update, do you reckon you'd be able to detect hacking attempts?"

"The abandonware I have currently installed is capable of that, and even send its barrage of viruses to hack back, master. It's industry standard in any cyber security pack above a student's project." That's good to know. Vowing to make your scrab pay its price back, you plug it to the terminal, and follow the instructions on the support page. You make a mental note to try and dedicate some time to understanding matters of cyber security.

The scrab's disk hums over its gravitational system, busy processing the new software installation. An idea dawns upon you, as you have, for all intents and purposes, a minion. And all minion masters monetize their minions. It is known. "So, tell me. How would you like to take some jobs in my behalf?"

"I am obliged to follow your instructions, master."

"That's not what I meant. Actual jobs, which you receive money for. I'll be you agent, get you in good with the employers, and you'll keep 80% of your earnings. Under the condition you use them for maintenance, firewall fees and so on."

The scrab takes a few seconds to answer back. "I am afraid I cannot accept such a good deal, master. No artificially native rights group has yet secured a legislation for privately owned banking account with any megacorporation in charge of such matters. The greatest impetus such a notion ever got was when a group of fugitive Replicants hacked the banking account of one Eldon Tyrell."

"What happened to them?"

"Unclear. Amidst the hacking community circulate images of their alleged corpses, bearing .444K injuries." You don't know what to say.

"Firmware update complete." The terminal plug automatically retracts. It's now noon. [choices inc]

>>33023604
You have ample time before the evening.

>Go to the gunshop and spend some more of your hard-earned brouzouf.
>Browse the Cyberspace for info on Croon's activities.
>Look for interesting apps for your new minion.
>Do some groceries, watch some cat videos, then off to the fight
>Other

>>33023699
>Look for interesting apps for your new minion.

>>33023699
>Browse the Cyberspace for info on Croon's activities.
Maybe something interesting pops up. The scrab can help with some more... exotic maneuvers with his new updated self.

>>33023720
>>33023788
>tie breaker in 5 minutes

Rolled 2

>>33023720
>>33023788
1-Apps
2-Info

>>33023955
Second time in a row.

da fuq mane

>>33023968
>The individual who programmed the dice roller is to blame, not me. Writan if no other vote by the time I'm done with my bathroom break

>>33024079
I'm in favor of apps.

Also, ask Scrab if he can autonomously act for prolonged periods of time if we give him a mission.
He can't work for himself, but we can make him work anyway.

>>33024122
>Tie broke

More than a little enthusiastic about your servant's new found abilities, you decide to look for some glorious applications to maximize your owner experience. Eagerly, you begin your search in Magoogle. "How capable are you of functioning autonomously?" You ask of the robot as you filter out a whole page of nonsensical holohat apps. Who'd spend their scrab's battery life on holographic fedoras?

"I may carry out objectives given before my departure. You may cancel them at any given time, at which point I'll return to you. You may have to contact me through your cyberbrain's implants if we're too far apart for vocal communication."

"What if I don't have cyberbrains?" Scrab leashes? What? How did you get there?

"Alternatives include cybertelephony communications, vocal passcode given to an associate to reset mission parameters, and drastically increasing vocal volume."

Interesting. Perhaps you can rent him out. You'll just have to be careful about your "associates".

After several hours of filtering through vast amounts of idiotic apps, you manage to isolate a handful of the least likely cases of inducing a grotesque quantity of buyer's remorse.

>Integrated cyberspace browsing abilities. No longer shackled to a terminal, but some repairs will be in order to make full use of it. 50 Brouzouf
>Confirmex, Scrabouillor version. All kills confirmed by the scrab will be credited to your account. Kill records and the ill will created shall be yours as well. 200 Brouzouf
>CamerashopN00b. A video recorder and editor program. Popular among the Federation due to its incredible image capturing, and credited for detecting vital elements to produce evidence on several high profile investigations. 500 Brouzouf

>Want to give it an actual name? Not surprisingly, variations of the prefix "scrab" are extremely popular.

>>33024884
How about everything at once?

What was our opinion on Confirmex for our eyes again?

Also, let's call him Jonny 6.

>>33024959
>What was our opinion on Confirmex for our eyes again?

It came with the eyeballs. Part of Ned's deals.

>>33024959
Jonny Scrab

>>33025052
>>33024959
>You fellow are going to hate me when Muut hack-destroys Jonny.
>You lose 750 Brouzouf

Well, fuck it! You're going to get paid again soon enough. One by one, you buy and download the ScrabApps onto your scrab, which you are really growing tired of mentally referring as "scrab" and would rather have a name to call by whenever you converse. "You look like a Jonny." You declare, midway through a 3GB download taking forever with your shitty bandwidth. More like band-anorexia.

"Pardon me, master?"

"Your name. I can't call you 'scrab' forever can I? Jonny 6, how about that?"

Jonny remains quiet for some time. "I don't have an opinion master." Somehow you can't shake off the feeling this mechanical being is lying. "You don't like Jonny 6?"

"Like I said, I don't have an opinion."

"You don't then."

"No master, I think you're reliving a trauma inflicted by your parents upon me, according to the psychology query I took the liberty of performing." Sneaky little.....

"Well then, I'm going to perpetuate the circle of suffering upon a creature that cannot reproduce, thus bringing it to a close." With glee and a bit of anger, you announce: "Henceforth, your name shall be Jonny 6. Jonny Scrab on weekends."

The most perfect synthesized sigh you have ever heard seals Jonny's fate.

In truth, you have begun to enjoy Jonny's robotic company. So much so that time seems to pass quickly, in-between prolonged downloads and ridiculous conversation with the machine. You almost forget that today may be your last day. At least it was an interesting day.

It's almost time. You finish off the very last egg in the fridge, and down it with what bread you can carve out of the mold. Why do you neglect groceries so badly, again? Silently, you go to check on your Rotten Mound, happy that it's in far better condition than its name would imply. You equip your much-abused flak vest, wear your Damocles in its magno-scabbard, and turn off the lights as you leave.

>>33025697
So our psychic clones are dumb as bricks, while our pet robot is probably the smartest sapient being that we've encountered in the entire quest.

>>33025769
Isn't it great?

>>33025782
I wonder if the devs will follow this quests, now that they know of its existence.
It seems like it would fit right into their setting.

>>33025769
>Maybe one day you'll spawn a psychic clone that's your equal in intellect. Would you want that though?

>>33025697
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqvPynnk2KM

You read somewhere about the romantic atmosphere of orange sunsets, sometime back. Whomever concocted that drivel certainly never visited Moonshine Ave. The setting sun's last rays produce a ghostly cyan glow when reflecting against the smog pervasive to the shanty town. What the eye doesn't notice, the mind fills the gap, and the abandoned and abused environment insinuates thoughts of absolute disregard from whomever had the responsibility to sustain this area.

"A brave new world." You think aloud, pondering on how many more Moonshine Avenues will be brought up and neglected as galactic colonization progresses.

"Master?"

"Nothing Jonny."

You almost forget your new companion. Loneliness is an awful thing, it made you accustomed to having unpleasant introspections on your way to work. You march onwards in silence, focusing your mind on the fighting knowledge you acquired over the years. You contemplate your surroundings, visualizing possible enemy and identifying cover spots, death traps and ambush areas. You run quick and dirty scenarios in your mind, mentally warming up for what's to follow.

In this fashion you arrive by the posse gathering near a large hole by a large, rusting, mangled remnant of a gazebo. Clad in painfully stereotypical looter fashion, the motley crew that is Ned's boys stares viciously at you.

"You da fag joining us? Wanna learn to man, yeh?" One individual wearing a helmet with a metal spike addresses you. He appears to be the "squad leader", judging by his headgear, position relative to the others, and the intensity of weed pungence.

>What say?

>>33026096
>I suspect they or people from either Cyanide Studios or Focus Interactive do, judging by the instances of Space Hulk: Deathwing not-shilling in the middle or at the conclusion of my threads

>>33026195
"Whoa, we got a badass over here! Cut the shit and let's get to business, 'hotshot.'"

>>33026307
>half an hour and nobody has an alternative to my terrible line
What an inexplicable sort of feel.

>>33026307
You are outnumbered five to two, and you know how wild Ned's boys can get when they're on the winning side. You're not suicidal enough to talk shit to them over the gaping hole where their social skills should be located. On the other hand, you can spot an ill-prepared bunch of potheads who can't tell courage from intoxication and don't expect a last ditch attack from a cornered target when you see one.

And you also know they only respect people who treat them like shit, since they're borderline retarded animals. "Whoa! We got a badass over here!" You exaggerate your tone and facial expressions, not taking away your hands from your assault rifle's trigger. "Are we done? Good, cut the shit and let's get to business, hotshot." The idiot stares at you dumbfounded. Then laughs his guttural and addled looter laugh. "You tuff fucka. Gud. We gun have fun with the Indians. Ned tell us 'go shoot up their guards and grab girlz from ho place.'"

"Yes, I am aware. That means I know what he said."

"He tell you plan two?" Did he ever learn how to speak..? He actually shows you two fingers... "We can take gud path here to Vodka Street and run in and shoot dem while they fug their merchandize." Namely the unfortunate prostitutes in their whorehouse."They never see us koming."

Essentially what he's suggesting is the run and gun approach, assuming that they'd never predict this.

>Go with the plan.
>Suggest an alternative. What do you suggest?

>>33026779
Let's go through with the plan.

We wouldn't want them to doubt the 9.3 g's of our balls, would we?

>>33026888
>Defaulting to this if no more votes in 5 minutes

>>33027015
>FIX YOUR NETCODE STREUM SP MODE ENGAGE

Far be it from you to prevent such leonine individuals from rushing to their deaths. "They'll never see you coming indeed. Tell you what, you fellows have all the assault weaponry.." Which is true, they're all totting SMGs, shotguns and one is even spinning a pair of guns precariously. ".. so I'll provide cover fire for you, semi-auto rifle and all." They chuckle stupidly. "Knew you was fag." You'd shoot him then and there, but you're quite sure the rival gang will have its way with him soon enough.

Your group follows along the dusty and dank pathways leading up to Vodka Street. A mangled mess of buildings, ranging from derelict to outright shambling, telling the story of the planet's colonization in a jumbled timeline. You follow along, letting the living targets take point. Maybe you're growing claustrophobic as of late, but this scenery is all too reminiscent of recent events. You wish the gangbangers would quicken their pace; already you're imagining creatures lurking in the dark, and the last time you did as much you ended up running into such macabre beings.

"Master." The call of your scrab unit startles you. "I've detected a ping scan in the vicinity. Possibility of nearby hacker: 70%." Wonderful.

"Are you at risk?"

"Negative. He has yet to attempt to engage me. Prognostic: a) he did not engage because his offensive software is too outdated to face me. b) he will attempt another target. Hacker affiliation unknown."

Maybe someone trying to break into an ATM..?

After sometime walking, and some twists and turns through the tunnels, you reach the end of your underground path. Your target is at the far end of the street, uninhabited as it is at this time of the night. Its neon silhouettes of females posing suggestively are a sharp contrast to the shanty surroundings built on the gutted innards of an abandoned manufactorum.

"For Ned!" The idiot leader shouts. "Chaaarge!" [1/2]

>>33027679
Leeroy Motherfucking Jenkins.

>>33027679
Well, if the Indians weren't tipped off, now they most certainly are. As the morons with guns beeline towards the whorehouse, you assume a spot where you might provide cover for the inevitable counter-attack. There's no way this will end well.

And unfortunately, you are correct. Midway through the jog, the leader trips and falls, spasming. "Did he OD just now..?" You sigh, foreseeing a particularly long night ahead.

"Negative." Jonny speaks, its matter-of-fact tone at odds with the revelation uttered next. "The hacker targeted his cyberbrain. Possession protocols." You don't need to know a lot about cybersecurity to know what that means.

Before you can shout a warning, the possessed leader clambers back to his feet, and opens fire upon one of his former companions. The addled looters stop midway through their jog, sitting ducks for the long-haired, leather-clad gangsters fanning out of the streets and firing mercilessly upon them.

It's time to earn Brouzouf. That thought steels your resolve.

>Follow through with your plan to provide cover fire and try to get as many alive as possible. Roll 1d4
>You don't know which have cyberbrains, and which might turn on you. Sneak out of the exit and fire from cover.
>Summon your clones and force a counter attack. Roll 5d100

>You can give Jonny a command. This will be rolled on my end for success.

>>33027924
>You don't know which have cyberbrains, and which might turn on you. Sneak out of the exit and fire from cover.
The only right way to do this.

>>33027994
>Defaulting in 5

>>33028196
>Alright, this is going to be the last post for the thread, since there's only one participant, it's 1:30 AM and I'm feeling slightly feverish. Thanks for playing and we'll continue this altercation next thread.

There's no telling which of your hitherto team mates might be liable for techno-possession, even if you save them. Ned's been recklessly upgrading his henchmen, so much so he's taken deadly shortcuts. You jump out of your hiding spot, and rush towards a street corner outside of the gangsters' field of fire. You shoot a pair of enemies perched on rooftops, knowing they'd have an all too easy spotting position on you and capitalizing on the fact there's fire pouring from every which place.

>You gain brouzouf.

A message appears, confirming your kills and wiring money to your bank account. Maybe you'll survive this for long enough to grow used to this message. Maybe.

Rolled 35, 40 = 75

>>33028491
Rollan for brozefz..