Part 8: Copy & PasteUpdate 7 - Copy & Paste
While recording footage for this update, I listened to the voice acting for the kids. They're all voiced by female voice actors doing terrible children impersonations. In Dodgers case, a terrible british child accent.
I just hope you can stay out of the pharmaceutical kit.
Goodbye, Bonton. You were a good companion for the one update we had you. Get yourself to rehab and away from children at the cybermall.
Dodger won't be dodging anything with an agility score of 47. Yikes. The good news is that we get access to most of the rest of the items we need to build Elvis.
Bonton left all of his drugs in a pile on the ground. Good for him. We'll just kick that into the nearest ditch and be on our way.
Stark's humanity may be vanishing before his very eyes the more time passes, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the finer things in life. To the Museum we go.
Immediately upon entering, a guard takes issue with us being here.
Was it the fangs that gave it away?
I'm here with a friend.
Must be some friend, to get into this joint. Ever since they closed off the Met to the public, the place is full of these rich brats every night.
I'm surprised more people aren't here, given that a simple bluff of "I know a guy" was enough to get in here.
They seem harmless.
Yeah? Well, they supposedly closed off the place to protect the artifacts from us working-class vandals. And what happens? These rich guys trash the place. I gotta go. Gotta keep an eye on these clowns.
This band of bourgeoisie tagged the wall with an anarchist grafitti symbol. These writers are completely incompetent. Anarchism has its roots in class struggle - the struggle of workers to expropriate capital from the capitalist class. Could the writers really not be bothered to spend five minutes reading an encyclopedia entry on anarchism? Did they really think that all anarchism amounts to is "fuck whoever is in power" and anyone regardless of how hierarchical they wish to see political and economic organization become can rightfully take claim to the label? Will the locational desciption of the museum give us the answer?
This probably means that there will be other people here during the night. We'll be sure to come back here. Best get to conversation.
We're given the opportunity to lie, but there's no reason to. We only get anywhere by telling the truth. Is there a message in that?
Well, what goes on there got just a little too scary for me. Borders on the perverse. It's a whole different crowd. I have some friends who are lucky enough to be members, though. Associates of mine at work. They're always saying, "Monty, how could you give up the privilege? Loosen up a little." But this is as loose as I get. In fact, they were after me to stop in tonight. But frankly, the place actually frightens me now. You look like an adventurous sort. Would you like my invitation?
What a nice old man. The last old guy Stark accepted something from turned out a little different.
Here. Now keep in mind, the club isn't everybody's business. It's more like a private, exclusive society than a club, really. But you seem like a dependable enough fellow. Enjoy. They meet mid-town at the Plaza. Oh, and while you're there, you might want to look up my associate Emily Esaki. Maybe she can show you around.
We've actually unlocked two locations with that conversation: the Hellfire club and Emily Esaki's office at TransTechnicals. It'll be a little bit before we head to TransTech.
The only other people to talk to here are that couple in coversation. Let's rudely interrupt them.
Lighten up. Life ain't that hard.
Life ain't that hard? Look at you!
You want conversation? Try my wife Dauphine here. She's the socialite. Lives for it. I mean, look at her. Beautiful, isn't she? She just had a baby two weeks ago, and she's already worried about the kid getting to know the right people. She amazes me. That kid's gonna have the best of everything, I can tell you. Mix with all the right crowds. Me, I hate this stuff. It's Dauphine who got us where we are today. I can't stand people. Hate 'em. Hate having to make conversation with them, spend time with them. Honestly, I only really enjoy my own company.
That baby of yours sounds like one lucky kid.
Oh, she will be. Dauphine is seeing to it. It's our philosophy that the child should be like all the other things we've acquired in this life--first rate. Finest breeding (obviously), upbringing, education. And there's no reason why she shouldn't benefit from the remarkable technology that makes the rest of life comfortable and state of the art.
And what does that mean?
Dauphine can tell you all about it. She's the one who's done all the research. This conversation has begun to tire me. Speak with her if you like.
Sounds like something interesting.
This is no Masquerade. Things might be a lot more interesting if it was. Stark would be a Venture, given that he can't feed on any rats.
I don't think so. I would have remembered being patronized like this.
Well, I have been out of commission for a while. Damean and I finally had our baby. The longest twenty-one weeks of my life. I said I was going to do this the old fashioned way, so I carried her for a full five months, then had her incubated for the rest. Sure, I could have incubated her for the full term at the ExVitro Family Health Ministry, but that's what everybody does these days. You have kids?
Not that I know of.
Oh, Stark. What a loose cannon.
You at all familiar with the technology of it?
I guess you could say technology is my thing.
Ah, then maybe you can help me locate a program I've heard about. I hear it's experimental. Perhaps it doesn't even exist yet. But getting it would mean remarkable things for my daughter's mind. I'd pay you handsomely. You interested?
I have a hunch that we might have what she wants. Let's hear the rest.
Good. As you might already guess, my daughter is remarkably bright and gifted. There's so much we want her to know. I've heard of a code that could be programmed into Antoinette's mind to make her multilingual. I believe it's called a Babel code. I'm not sure who developed it or where you can get it, but I want you to get your hands on it. That's why I'm paying 25,000 dollars. The earlier we can have that implanted in her brain, the better. You can find Damean and me here early in the evenings. We go home early to install a subliminal instruction tape in the incubator. You know where to find us.
We just happen to have the Babel Code with us now.
Maybe you already have one on you. Any chance that you do and that you'd sell it to me?
The Babel Code is only good for two things in BloodNet, and this is the other one. So yeah, we're going to sell it.
Oh, wonderful. Antoinette is going to have everyone in her advanced preschool class put to shame. Thank you. You've done a wonderful thing for her. It's almost as if you were some sort of godfather or something.
Hey, nothing would give me more pleasure. Except this 25 grand.
I get the feeling that this 25 grand might be useful very soon.
On our way back to Cafe Voltaire, let's stop in to the Bellevue Hospital. We first learned about it during character creation.
These patients seem more unresponsive than usual.
Many's the time Garrick and I worried we would end up on one of these vegetable machines.
The Bellevue Hospital Cyberward is home to those whoe have lost their decking integrity. Many have been on life support in this cold, lonely room for months, even years, their minds lost forever in the net. The patients are sufficiently attended to, but the atmosphere is harsh and uncaring, and the facilities are not quite as sterile as they should be.
This very well may be the saddest place in the game. Unfortunately, most of these patients seem to be abandoned by their family and friends - left to slowly die while completely alone.
There is a nurse to bother, though. Stark is enough of an asshole to do that.
Odd that the entrance leads to a room that's off limits.
Hey, all these guys in here look like they've got the same thing, hooked up to the same machines. What ward is this?
What do I look like--a tour guide? I don't have time for this. Listen, I take care of these cybercrisps day in and day out. Burnouts. They're not even alive, if you ask me. Only reason they have breath in their bodies is because we pump it in. God knows where their minds are in the net. Unfortunately for these veggies, their families are rich enough to keep them alive here. Some life. Poor saps that come in here to visit actually think these guys are going to be up and around some day, so we pump 'em full of muscle atrophy-preventives, and give 'em therapy. What's the point? All the king's men aren't gonna be able to put these unlucky fools' minds back together again.
I wouldn't be surprised if All the Kings Men was meant to be another pointless name drop.
So they just lost decking integrity, that it?
Some just plain burned out. One too many decks, I guess. Couple of 'em are said to have wandered too close to TransTech. Fools. Nobody's gonna ever catch me messing with the Corp. I like to breathe on my own, thank you very much. Now, this ain't no freak show. Why don't you hurry on out of here? I got work to do.
We're familiar with one of the patients.
Stark doesn't interact with him in any way. However, his greiving wife is here. Let's pester her with questions.
That portrait looks a little familiar.
I noticed you sitting there. This your husband?
Yes, this is Charley. I lost him about eight months ago. You have no idea how much I've missed him.
Just decked one too many times, eh?
Oh, no. Charley was one of the best deckers in the business. Made a great living at it too. He could slip into any system, out of any cage. He was the best. Everyone wanted to work with Charley. Now people say his number was just up, his luck ran out, but I don't buy that. My Charley was never sloppy. Someone got to him. I know it. That's the only explanation.
Anyone made an attempt to go in after him?
Only con artists who say they want my money to find him. But nobody can do that. If Charley was the best and someone got to Charley, who's good enough to go in after the pieces of his mind? I'm afraid I've lost him forever. If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone with him now.
Sure. I understand.
I'll just leave you miserable and hopeless when I could tell you that I've been collecting pieces of Charley Flyer's mind.
There one more screen of the hospital.
Those 3 items are useless. Two are components for various drugs, one is a useless drug. I'm not picking them up.
The Bellevue Hospital examination room is cold and sterile. Under the harsh lighting, you see that the room houses the latest in diagnostic equipment and locked cabinets you assume are full of medical supplies.
We need an electronic lockpick to get in there, and we will want to get in there. We've got one component of it: the lockpick database, but the other two we do not. There's one doctor to talk to in here.
By saying yes, we spend a good amount of time to restore lost hit points. There's an option called rest in the menu which does the same thing, except it doesn't heal Stark the half-vampire. We don't need any help right now.
Then I suggest you leave. I have patients waiting.
We will leave.
Let's see what Lenora Major can offer us.
Yeah, Kimba told me to expect you. So you check out. That's great. But I don't do this kind of work for nothing. It's gonna cost you 25,000 dollars. As you know, once it's done, TransTech won't be on to you as much when you're exploring the Brooklyn office. So, it's well worth it. And I'm not in the mood to hear any complaints. You prepared to pay now?
Why, we just happened to make 25,000 dollars before coming here.
Great. Now, you want in the megacorp, you gotta BE the megacorp. I'm going to enter your essence into TransTechnicals' Security System. You'll always be recognized as upper level clearance when you enter. It'll cut down substantially on being busted. You just bought yourself a first class ticket to the inside, Stark. I have no idea what you plan on doing once you're in there, and I don't want to know, got it?
Yeah, I got it. But I sorta feel like I've sold out. Went to the other side.
I think that happened when you actually worked for them.
Not if you make sure to use what you find in there to screw those fascist bastards. The only way to beat 'em is to join 'em. Now, you must have at least a Samurai Soul Box to have the essence imprinted into your matrix. I'll meet you in the net. My WELL location code is MAJOR. Hustle. See you in the net, Stark.
We just happened to aquire a samurai soulbox before this, as well. What a coincidence! Time to deck.
That's totally a samurai. On our way to the FATS, we run into someone in an Azreal soulbox. It's one step above samurai, one below dragon.
That's not a hood he's wearing; that's the background of cyberspace in between his wings.
Right, Dreg. As if you ever left the net. You're decked in 'round the clock.
Hey, I'd take surfin' the matrix any day over dealin' with New York. I even met my girlfriend in here, Stark. We've never even had to meet out of the net. A cyber-romance on the edge. Yeah, I'm always one step ahead of the rest of you losers.
Bet women are really impressed with that, Dreg. Of course, they can't smell their new boyfriend over the net. Or see that he has dandruff the size of cracker crumbs.
Great job, Stark! You've figured out the secret of the internet, where hottgurl69 can be a child predator, while MuscleWizard, overlord of the net can be a nerdy kid in his parents basement.
Go ahead, Stark, make a fool of your jealous self. But I know what I'm doin'. So the girls never meet me. And maybe when they do, it doesn't always work out, but, hey, by then I've got a good chance of getting some virtual sex out of the deal.
Unless you're too fat for the virtual suit.
Now I remember why I like you so much, Stark. Your charm. I was gonna make good on that money I owe you, too, but now I'm having second thoughts.
You telling me you have the money?
Well, no. I don't have the money, but I got something better, a self-replicating virus for crashing cyborg systems. Load it into a data spider, latch it onto any of the Company's drones and stand back. I'm loading it into your deck now.
But I don't want--
I'd rather have the cash, but I guess that's better than nothing. Something like that could come in handy, considering what I'm up against these days. Thanks, Dreg. You may be worth your weight in fiber optic cable after all.
Fiber optic cable must have been futuristic as fuck back in the 90's.
Let's get this over with.
It looks like any other well.
Many a data angel has met Lenora Major in her WELL for the same manner of service you have sought.
We are here to get into TransTech, right?
But we decked in as soon as possible. You left the cafe entirely.
O.K. You're ready for the essence imprint into the TransTech security file. It'll take a while. The program and I will merge with you, and copy all your files into the system. You ready?
I guess so.
Are you ready for this display of decking mastery?
TT\: COPY STARK.* TTSECMAIN.FILE C:\ ARE YOU SURE? (Y/N) Y STARK.EXE STARK.MEMORY STARK.INTLGNCE STARK.IMAGNTN STARK.PRSNLITY STARK.PHYSICAL STARK.MENTAL STARK.LNGUAGE STARK.ETHNIC STARK.HABITS STARK.EGO STARK.SEX C:\ ALL FILES COPIED
Well, that's it, Stark. You're in. Things should be easier at the Brooklyn headquarters. Unless you're stupid enough to be caught red-handed, you shouldn't get hassled as much now that you're imprinted into the matrix. Nice doing business with you, Stark.
You just pulled another one over on TransTech, Stark, and I love to see it. Reminds me of the old days.
All this cybernostalgia is making me nauseous. Let's get out of here.
Remember Timmy Goldfarb? Let's check up on him. We learned that he goes by the name of Wild Child, and morph codes serious messed him up.
Only three dogs have the courage to be autonomous.
Engines roar in the distance. You hear a gunshot. A husband and wife sceam at one another, their voices audible through open windows. You hear babies wailing nearby. You brace for trouble. The Autonomy Dogs are lunatics with guns. Somebody could get hurt.
Suddenly, out of the shadows, a figure emerges.
Yes. I could use a lift.
Anyway, it turns out that Timmy is here.
Tim? It's Ransom Stark. I heard about your, ah, accident. I'm here to help you if you'll let me.
JUICE BY TIMMY, JUICE BY TIMMY, JUICE BY TIMMY, OHHHHHH TIMMY'S GOT JUICE, TIMMY'S GOT JUICE, TIMMY'S GOT JUICE, OHHHHHH TIMMY!
Hate to be critical after so long, Tim, but I'm having trouble with that. A friend of mine told me that you discovered something called Morph Code. Is that right? You're shaking your head. Good. I'll assume you understand me. Where can I find the Morph? Can you tell me that?
Tough to, theoretical agendas, speak. My . . . mind's radium oatmeal fruit.
Those morph codes really did a number on him.
The language centers of your brain are misfiring, aren't they? No, don't answer that. Try to think about the Morphs. It could be important.
Morph's toy Satan code Wilde not toy. Leave them alone Mozart fried chicken.
I know they can be dangerous, Tim, uh, Wild Child. Just tell me where they are located. Maybe I can help you.
Mice and cheese. Praxis units. You must edge surf round car mountains and ICE t-t-t-tea to Notional Labs cluster with salamanders Mozart and address skimmerhorn the monkey rack Mozart pistol.
The address, Tim. What's the address?
Pornography and seersucker Mozart castanets.
Thanks, Wild Child. Don't worry. If I see your wife, I'll tell her that you're dead.
What a mensch.
Thanks denim, denim, Ransom.
Somehow Stark understood that. The well with the morph codes is MOZART. Still, if the morph codes did that to Timmy, maybe it's best that we wait to go there.
Ouch. With a bloodlust around 75%, this sound loops infinitely as long as we have the menu open. It's very grating.
There are two more people to talk to.
That's nice. Let's talk to Sabaccatus.
This is probably the best voice acting that you're going to hear in BloodNet.
I'm not looking for trouble, St. Aubens. I was told a friend of mine runs with you now. His name is Tim Goldfarb. I just want to talk to him.
But we already talked to him, Stark!
"I just want to talk to him." "I just want to talk to him." Just want blah blah blah blah talk blah blah blah to him blah, blah. You can't do it! There's no Tim. He's Wild Child now. Runs with the Dogs. What do you want? Let me see your face. You look ethnic to me. Where are your people from? What filthy mongrol coupling do you issue from? Don't try to hide from me. I can see the service jack for your neural implant. Once I cleansed the city of vermin like you, until those brown-skinned devils defiled me, made me an unholy monstrosity rather than letting me perish a natural death.
Oh yeah. You worked for the Purity Council all right.
Remember what Larry Owen told us:
They hang a lot around Wall Street. Their leader is a guy named Sabaccatus St. Aubens. Rich guy. His father ran a chain of virtual wares shops and left Sabaccatus a pile. Sabbs was a little unstable though. Got involved heavily with the Genetic Purity Council. Even went out on raids with the Scrub Teams until he got shot up pretty bad in a fire fight with a South American ethnic gang called the Bolivarian Front. Only way his doctors could save him was by giving him a hefty-looking implant. He couldn't handle being transformed into something he hated and went completely over the deep end. Do yourself a favor, Stark and forget about him. The Dog's [sic] are crazy people. Killers. Psychotic refuse. Let it go.
This conversation would be even more awkward if Stark had this portrait:
Or if we brought Cisco Alvarez:
Oh, oh, oh, oh. What is this I see? Mi amigo. Como esta usted? Mi Casa es su casa.
Yes, I have a problem with it, you brown-skinned whoremonger. Look what your people did to my face. I'm a damn freak because of your ethnically assertive "brothers." I'll tear the flesh from your body for what they did to me. Die, you ethnic swine.
Then he'd attack us, along with the other two autonomy dogs.
The Council are hypocritical old women! They talk, talk, talk, talk, TALK about genetic cleansing and obscene couplings of man and machine. They shove their smug righteousness in your face, excommunicate their faithful, and then hire a man-machine like Nimrod 7 to kill for them. No one even knows if Nimrod is human or machine, or which he was first.
Stark brought up the Purity Council to Nimrod 7 back in the Abyss.
You've worked for the Purity Council, right?
The Genetic Purity Council has at times contracted me to kill certain individuals who do not meet specified demographic profiles. Yes.
That's what I thought. The rage gangs and cyberpunks are terrified of you.
They are weak. So weak, they must rely on a machine to do their killing, but I will show them how to fight a war. I am raising an army, freelance. I can pay you well if you will serve me. You look like you could use some money.
I can pay you 40,000 dollars for one job. A Manhattan gang known as the Hard Metals flaunts and celebrates the joining of flesh and circuitry. They are obsessed with adding more and more cybernetic attachments to their bodies. One of their number, Markus Piston, is outspoken about their way of life. He advocates it to others. I want him dead. Assassinate him and the money is yours.
In the CD speech, the voice actor says the target is Tempered Steele. It's actually Markus Piston, as the text version says.
You want me to kill a man?
Hardly a man, he has so much machinery embedded in him. It will be more like unplugging an appliance.
Fantastic newspeak, St. Aubens. If we talk to him again, he'll attack us. If we pull of the hit, he'll give us the money and attack us anyway. If we would've brought Cisco here, he'd attack us. What about Nimrod 7?
Nimrod 7. If you had phoned ahead I'd have worn something a bit more formal.
You know this guy, Nimrod?
St. Aubens used to work for the Purity Council until he grew angry at the Council's perceived reluctance to eliminate deviants in greater numbers.
Pretty accurate capsule report, Nimrod. But that's you through and through, brief and to the point. You're an abomination, an affront to human life, and I'm pulling out your wires right now. I'll turn you into scrap this time.
You guessed it. Nimrod 7 causes most of the gangs to either outright attack us, or ignore us almost completely. Turns out that we needed the conversation with St. Aubens to go as it did, because he's the only NPC in the game that gives the location of the Hard Metals gang. It's required to go there to complete the game. Even if you retreat and come back without Nimrod or Cisco, he'll keep attacking you. You're fucked.
Speaking of Hard Metals, we should go there. I'm not pulling off that hit, by the way. I don't do jobs for cyberracists.
I've dealt with these guys. They look crazy, but they can be handled, especially if you come bearing cybernetics.
Man, look at all these cybergenetic parts, will you? Wonder where they scored all this stuff.
The Hard Metals dominate this corner of Manhattan. Every member of this gang is tough, intolerant, prone to violence, and partial to cybergenetic alternations.
We're up to 72% bloodlust. Things aren't looking good. Maybe that lady with gumby legs can help.
So are we, in case you couldn't tell. For two grand I'll tell you where you can get some top-of-the-line stuff, some new, some used. All in good condition. First, pay up.
We're not given another choice. She just takes the money.
O.K., the guy deals behind 512 W. 64th St. Goes by the name of Strongarm Tacktick. Next time I see him, I'll tell him to expect you. Nice doin' business with you.
That vendor is the only source of spark boards in the game. We'll be going there right after the Hard Metals.
Marcus Piston is the guy in the pink pants. He's "paint[ing] a colorful pattern on a section of his prosthetic arm's armor casing."
I like the drawing. Good choice of colors. They work well on the armor surface.
Muscles of steel, literally, eh?
You could call it that. I'd call it difficult-to-obtain cutting edge bio-electronics.
Must take big money to support a hobby like this.
Calling it a hobby minimizes it. The merging of flesh and machine is a way of life, a calling. Cybernetics puts us in touch with function and makes us conscious of motion and form.
Some people say the Hard Metals lose touch with what it's like to be human.
Unlike turning into a vampire.
The sensors in the Haas-Peters class hand are several times as sensitive as those of a human hand. I can estimate within eight ounces the weight of any object I hold in it and count grains of sugar that rest on its surface. When I caress a lover's cheek I experience every texture, every slight undulation of her jaw line. I can adjust the hand's temperature, increase and decrease the pressure per square inch it exerts when grasping so that I can crush masonry or grip a soap bubble. If anything, the arm expands my experiences, which is why I'm prepared to offer substantial payment if you bring me a Haas-Peters model.
What are you offering?
A complete and functioning dermal filament, a light refraction unit, and 4,000 dollars transferred directly to your accounts. The money's the best I can do.
Not worth it. The next Hard Metaler is called Clank Sprocket. His knee joint "seems to be locked in place."
You look like you're in pain.
What do I look like, a dealer?
I'm not asking for any handouts. See here, I got an EMP focalizer. This is Company tech, rare as roses on the streets. I'll let you have it for a leg, any leg that's working, anything that gets me up off the ground.
EMP combat shit is useless. It does to electronics what the stun stick and riot stopper rifle do to humans, except worse. The latter will stun the enemies, the emp stuff will only "impair the devices efficiency" according to the manual. I don't know what that means or if it's even close to being true, because I've never wasted time with EMP weapons. Interestingly, Clank has dialogue relating to the other legs that didn't make in in-game.
Hey, a Schonbrun 46. I like. Pretty color. Feel that. Just like real skin except I can adjust the temperature and its bullet proof. Here's the EMP focalizer I promised.
Another Ashi Subarashii? Guess this will do until I can get my mitts on something that will last. Damn Ashi bio-processors. Here. Here's the EMP focalizer I promised you.
Shock the matrix! A CyberStryde 8000! You went the distance, cowboy. I'll be a new man. Give it here. I got that EMP focalizer you wanted.
It brings a tear to my eye (not really). BloodNet could have been so much more. Clank also has interesting dialogue if you brought Nimrod.
Nimrod! Shit! You got me cornered you murderin' bastard. Processors in my leg are shot. Don't expect me to beg you for my life. Do your worst.
The other Hard Metals would've attacked us on sight. Another game-breaker because we need the location of that vendor we got from Liquid to complete the game.
This is the last of the Hard Metals.
Tempered Steel looks like a distant relative of William Todd.
I ain't lookin' for a fight, man, believe me.
Well, you're gonna get one. 'Cause I don't like the look of your face, pasty boy. Neither does anybody else here. You know why? 'Cause I said, that's why.
Wait a minute here. I don't wanna mess with you or that cybernetic arm of yours. Listen, if you kill me, you'd be missing out on the chance to make some real money. Think about that.
Let me see if I'm gettin' this right. You sayin' you want me to work for you?
Why yes, yes we are.
Then it's gonna cost you ten grand. Pay up now.
Good. Now you ain't touchin' my money. That's for later--for some cyberparts I had my eye on. If you got more money to spend, I expect it to go for my cyberenhancements. That gets you a better fighter and makes me real happy. Now let's get outta here and do this job so I can get back. The rest of these guys don't know what to do without me around.
We'll be sure to do that, eventually.
Thanks for giving us your shit, Dodger. Bye.
That's the cyborg head on the ground. I miss Dodger already. I wonder what else could have happened to him.
If we would have traded drugs for both his Sheehy G leg and Cyborg Head:
Thanks, man. Stop back any time. I'll always surprise you with something.
Then if we went back to the other part of Central Park, Jeaudie would say
What was that junk you gave Dodger? How could you? He's dead and you killed him--coming around here peddling your junk. You killed him! You killed him!
Yes. He would have died. Marty would've been pretty torn up about it too.
You killed him! You killed Dodger! He was like my big brother! He always shared his food with me! You gave him that junk and now he's gone and who's going to look out for me now? Get away from me!
That would have been a sad end, indeed. The other outcome is if we recruited Dodger after recruiting Zarah.
Then one screen over..
Then they both abandon ship. Zarah can be found back at the abyss...
Dodger can be found back at central park.
Hey, little guy, relax. Just wanna see what you're up to.
I ain't no little guy. I've grown up since the last time you saw me.
That's what I hear. Lucky guy.
Listen, what happened between me and Zarah is none of your business.
Yeah, well Zarah isn't one to keep secrets.
She told you everything? All of it?
How much could she tell? I mean how long does it take to recount a three minute experience?
You here for a reason, Stark, or just to insult me? 'Cause I got better things to do. Did you realize how valuable I was to you? Bet you're here to ask me to work for you again, that it?
Stark plays a role in the statutory raping of Dodger and then makes fun of him for it. What a hero.
But none of that happened in our story. Dodger left and was replaced by a more combat-savvy companion who's just as good at jury rigging.
He also comes with two cybergenetic limbs. We'll equip him with a laser rifle and kevlar vest. He comes with some spare limbs in his inventory.
If we want to build Elvis, this is our next stop.
They reuse the same background for every vendor.
You slowly wrap your hand around a weapon. You don't like having to walk into this alley to do business. Towering buildings, dark shadows, only one way in and out, the kind of alley where people get killed.
You heard right, Al Davis from the future.
He has some expensive stuff that I don't know the purpose of.
We're first going to sell some of this useless stuff we've accumulated.
HEY! Are our skills seriously deteriorating with use? The manual says they should be increasing!
Improving Skills posted:
Whenever characters in your party successfully perform a given task in the game, the skills related to that task will increase. Messages indicating skill point changes will appear on the screen when appropriate.
I know for a fact that this isn't actually implemented, but it baffles me why our skills seem to be decreasing right now.
After that's all done, we're going to buy a Diagnostic Unit, Lockpick Casing, and Spark Board. The first two are components for building an electronic lockpick, which is required to complete the game. We also have to use the one and only lockpick database to make it. We know what the spark board is for.
The Manual posted:
Success assembling and disassembling objects is a function of the jury-rag, intelligence, and observation skills. If a jury-rig attempt fails, you stand a chance of breaking a component.
More vagueness from the manual. It is possible to build weapons of your own, but they're useless.
The Manual posted:
When you use a jury-rigged weapon in combat, there is a probability during each round that the weapon will fail. If this occurs, you will be offered a choice of switching weapons or "whacking" the weapon, that is, having the character whack the weapon with his hand in hope of fixing the malfunctioning weapon (much like you whack any malfunctioning electronic device in your home) Choosing "whack" creates a probability that the weapon will work in the next combat round.
This 'failure' happens way too often for jury-rigged weapons to be useful. Adding on to that, using the 'whack' options can result in whatever weapon you had blowing up. Even worse is that every weapon listed in the Jury-Rig section of the manual, even if you find them elsewhere or buy them, counts as being jury-rigged. Keep in mind that jury-rigging takes up time, so you're spending time, money, and bloodlust making weapons that will blow up in your hand. There's also a whole section of weapons called Bio-Tech, which you can buy from Strongarm Tacktick for a fortune, and they're all counted as Jury-Rigged. Not only that, but you've got to go to the cybersurgeon to get them grafted on to a part of you body, which takes up more time and bloodlust, not to mention that our humanity will start dropping as the game reaches the time limit. It's like the developers didn't even try.
We're first going to assemble Elvis.
Then the electric lockpicks.
All we have to do now is go into our decking unit and drag Elvis's mind over to the 'Use' button. The first time I did this, it didn't work and I thought the game glitched.
Well, who do we dismiss to get Elvis in our party? I imagine you first want to see his stats.
Elvis looks like Markus Piston painted the rest of his face gray and tried to kiss a meat grinder.
Will we welcome Elvis into the party? and if we do, who will he replace?