LASERBEAR: The Movie: The Game

[hats]

Oct 15, 2020 9:43:58 GMT -5 fuzzysocks said:

Do raiders raid cars that have already been stopped by other raiders? If not, we can pretend to be raiders until they leave. Unless our car is obviously one from the neighborhood watch.

Hmm. Might work. The 4x4... well, it ain't exactly a lemon, but it's got some miles on it. Might pass for a raider car with a little luck. And it's not like you're wearing the company colors or anything.

Oh. Ox is wearing company colors. You double-tap your molars and open up the comm channel. "Sit tight. We're bluffing through 'em, and that uniform's a dead giveaway."

There's a long second of silence. It's not hard to imagine her expression. "... fine."

"Don't worry. We'll be fine. And if shit hits the fan, you're right in line to shred 'em up."

There's no response. Must be in awe of your utter confidence and flawless logic. Right, time to get the other actors in position.

You square your shoulders and hoist your shotty. "New plan. We're robbing the hell out of you." Screwhead shrinks back, fear on the what's left of their fleshy bits. "Not for real, dumbass. These dipshits aren't gonna whack us if they think we're one of 'em. We got here first, it's our haul, and they'll probably respect that."

The other cultist speaks up for the first time. Their voice is super synthesized--no meat left on those vocal cords. "Only probably?"

"Yep!" You nod to the gun crates. "Cover those. Don't wanna give 'em anything to fight over. And then... I dunno. Act scared, or something."

Time's short. The cars are closing in; patchwork repair jobs, a dude hanging on the back of one, and no aligned aesthetic. Definitely raiders.


How we playin' this? Territorial and aggressive right from the get-go? Friendly, in a "nah we got this, happy hunting" sorta way?

[fuzzysocks]

Friendly but stern.

[PuntRocket]

Oct 17, 2020 23:46:03 GMT -5 fuzzysocks said:

Friendly but stern.

Vote

[Eversor]

Cool Cop, Cooler Cop.

[hats]

Oct 17, 2020 23:46:03 GMT -5 fuzzysocks said:

Friendly but stern.

Right on. You think back to how Miss K ran your English lit seminar and boom, you're in character.

The mismatched rides skid to a stop close enough to splatter mud all over the 4x4. They're ugly as sin--one's a six-wheeled pile of scrap swaying on its shocks like an alky, the other's a goddamn dune buggy with some plating welded to the open bits. Four marks total: two drivers, a copilot in the hex car, and a dude in beat-to-shit biker leathers hanging on the back of the buggy. That last one jumps down, pulls his goggles up, and saunters your way. "Howdy, neighbor," he calls, not quite pointing his knockoff AK at you... but not exactly pointing it away from you, either.

"Mornin'! Good to see a friendly fuckin' face out here." You turn to keep both him and the junker in your field of vision. "Slim pickings, but us early birds caught us a worm." You throw a leering grin over at Screwhead, who tries their best to look scared shitless. Assuming they've got enough meat plumbing to still take an 'analogue data dump,' as you call 'em (solely to piss off Rat).

"Oh yeah?" He takes a step closer, still cheerful. His companions do not look quite so happy to be here. The woman riding shotgun in the hex has got an intense, cold-eyed, reptilian predator thing going on. It's pretty hot. "Anything good?"

You snort. "Hardly. Gonna scrap that thing for parts like the trash it is."

"S'that so." Biker Boy turns fully away from you to face Screwhead and the junker. "What'cha got there, worm?"

Screwhead's eye flicks between you and Biker Boy. "F-food," they say. "And... and scrap m--"

Both cultists dive to the ground as Biker Boy shoots from the hip. He hits a couple of the stacked cans, which explode and sends... beans, maybe? chili? spraying over the rest of the cargo.

"Lotta food there," he says, turning back to you as if nothing had happened. "Awful lot. You know, it'd be mighty neighborly of you..."

"Nope." You point the barrel just a bit closer to him. "This one's ours."

"S'that so," he says again. There's a familiar scrape of metal on leather; both drivers draw pissy little semi-autos. Biker Boy doesn't bother looking back. "Seems to me our need might be greater than yours. Seeing as how there's four of us and one of you."

So much for honor among shitheel fuckheads thieves.

Oct 18, 2020 10:51:28 GMT -5 Eversor said:

Cool Cop, Cooler Cop.

"Two, you mean." Ox's voice rolls over you like thunder. Both you and Biker Boy turn to the 4x4--Ox is standing on the running board, one hand on the roof handle and the other on her fifty. Your first thought is holy shit, is she aiming eighty pounds of metal one-handed? Your second thought is jesus fuck, where'd her top go?!

Eventually your logical thought processes catch up--yes, her uniform top was in company colors and would've been a giveaway, and yes, she's still wearing a sports bra. But gods damn that's a mental image that's gonna hang around in your head for a looooong-ass time.

Biker Boy eases down his AK until it's pointed at the mud. "Well. That changes things a bit. Big gal like you needs all the grub she can get, I'd wager."

Ox doesn't smile. "You'd wager correctly."

The drivers lower their sidearms. But Lizard Girl is still glaring daggers, still ice-cold, still looking for a reason to doubt you...


The boys might've backed down a bit, but they don't look inclined to leave. Gotta do something to get 'em off your case.

[fuzzysocks]

I'm gonna be honest here - I'm drawing a blank. We can't intimidate them further, we can't give them a tip of another stopped car to rob (because we don't have any tip, and I don't want to chance lying to them even more), does Ox have any further ideas?

[hats]

[not an update]

okay, gonna match your honesty with some honesty of my own--I felt bad ending this scene with an Ox Ex Machina and wanted to give more opportunities for input/conflict resolution, but I did a real shitty job of it.

options:
1) rewrite the above to be less shitty, but we still gotta navigating the bandit encounter
2) retcon the above so that the bandits leave and pick up from there
3) either/or, but just fuckin' skip ahead to the marketplace already, god

[Eversor]

Tossed in the vote on discord, but yeah i vote 1.Just cause 2 and 3 don't feel right to me!

[PuntRocket]

I vote, we move forward with the last prompt, Cool Cop, Cooler Cop. Build on that, we take in the Ox Alpha energy and direct it towards Lizard Girl. Roll Snark.

[hats]

Oct 22, 2020 0:02:22 GMT -5 PuntRocket said:

I vote, we move forward with the last prompt, Cool Cop, Cooler Cop. Build on that, we take in the Ox Alpha energy and direct it towards Lizard Girl. Roll Snark.

Snark, eh? You can do snark. Ox might've stolen the show, but you can still come in second place to her Alpha (and you definitely don't follow that particular train of thought down any dark roads, nope, not a chance).

You puff out your chest and stroll towards the hex. "Nice ride," you say, locking eyes with Lizard Girl. "Pretty slick to make it look like a rusted-out piece of shit. Might make folks underestimate you, seein' as no self-respecting badass would let their wheels actually get that fucked."

To her left, the driver's face scrunches up in anger beneath his facewraps. "Watch yourself, scavver," he growls.

"Not talkin' to you, pencil-dick," you say, and your gaze doesn't move. "Pretty clear who runs this show, and it ain't you. Though maybe you'd do a better job keeping this bucket of bolts in functional shape, eh?"

Lizard Girl's still the only one not holding a gun, which might be a good thing? Hard to say. "Don't push your luck," she says, and her voice is low in tone and volume, but no more varied than her stupid beady eyes.

"Don't make me." You're right up by the hood of the hex, now. You can sense the barrels aimed your way. "Ease on down the road, sister, and we'll settle this some other day."

A handful of heartbeats.

And she nods, still unblinking. "Move!" she calls to Biker Boy somewhere behind you, and then touches her temple with one finger. "I'll know your face," she says, quiet enough that only you can hear her. "No excuses next time."

"Looking forward to it." You step back and wave cheerfully as the hex peels out, spraying more muck over the 4x4 (and you); the buggy follows suit, Biker Boy giving a sloppy salute from his perch.

You wait until they're a ways out, then sigh and shake your head. "What a day, huh?"

"I hope you're not tired already." There's a note of amusement in Ox's voice; you turn to see her already halfway through pulling her top back on. Damn it.

"Nah, just kvetchin'. Hey, Screwhead!" The cultists glance at each other, trying to decide who you're talking to. "Fine, Screwheads plural. Your ride's shot. Get as much of your shit as you can fit in the back, and then we're getting you the hell outta here."

Maybe two-thirds of the cargo fits; they leave about half the scrap metal and some of the food behind, but not before one of 'em marks down the map coordinates. Poor saps won't find jack shit if they come back later, but... hey, they can dream.

The cultists squeeze into the back, you settle into the driver's seat, and you're back on the road. Fuckin' finally. Sucks to be a good person sometimes...

You're a little behind schedule. How d'ya wanna handle the approach? The city outskirts usually aren't too rough--you wanna drop off the losers and then gun it straight into the old port district? Or maybe drop off the losers, park somewhere safe, and go in on foot?

[fuzzysocks]

Going on foot sounds like a death sentence in this town. Go with option 1.

[Eversor]

Oh Yeah, no we are totally gunnin' it. But keep an eye on these knuckle heads, don't let your guard down still.

[PuntRocket]

Drop 'em off and gun it.

[hats]

You charge on, hurtling toward the city as fast as your overloaded 4x4 can go through uneven, muddy terrain. So not, like, super fast.

"Where we droppin, boys?" you say, glancing at the cultists. Looks like they've spent the whole ride trying not to get sick. And... yeah, okay, maybe you hit some bumps you didn't have to hit, but come on. You're only human.

"We need to reach the theater district." The fleshy bits of Screwhead's face are awfully pale. "Our siblings live in the Hyperion, which is--"

Ox cuts in. "I know it. The three-story Art Deco a few blocks from the underpass." Weeelll now, looky here, we got us an architecture nerd.

Screwhead nods. "The streets there are safe. We care for our own."

"Sure yeah sure, but if we take a bullet on the drive in, I'm gonna kick both your asses." You pull around a pile of rubble and enter the city proper.

- - -

Haven't been to the theater district in a while, but the directions come back to you easily enough, by which you mean "the AR overlay shows your dumbass self a dotted line to follow."

"Here," says Ox, jabbing a finger at a chrome/concrete monstrosity that's still got a faded marquee out front. "Pull up in front."

You do that. "This is your stop, kids! Grab your stuff and get out."

The quiet one nods and starts dragging boxes down into the ankle-deep muck. Screwhead doesn't, though. "Won't you come in?" they ask. "You've done a great thing, and we would like to repay--"

"No." And, simultaneously, "No."

You and Ox glance at each other. "Jinx," you add. "Nah, pal, we've got a lotta work to do today. Best if you just get up there and stay safe."

A couple more cultists come out once they see Screwhead; between 'em, they get their shit unloaded pretty quick. Finally the back's empty, and you stop drumming your fingers on the wheel and kick it back into gear.

"Thank you," shouts Screwhead over the roar of the engine. "If ever you are in need--"

You peel out, hydroplaning on the slick pavement and leaving whatever else they were saying behind. As if a bunch of scrap-faced gear-fuckers could help out. Still, suppose it never hurts to get to know the neighbors.

- - -

The city shows a little more life as you approach the port district. A few locals combing the muck for gross-ass shellfish, some skeezy-lookin' pricks smoking on the roof of an old gas station, a few exhausted watchfolk keeping an eye out from their bullet-riddled vantages... nobody's happy, nobody's dry, and nobody gives two shits about you.

Perfect.

Marketplace is dead ahead. Neutral ground. One of the few safe-ish public spots in the city, thanks to the general understanding that everybody is armed and 100% willing to shoot you if you fuck around too much. There's room to just... drive right in, if you're so inclined, and scope out the stalls and vendors and guns-for-hire and such.

Crow's last check-in was here, almost a full day ago. He was trying to trace supply lines back to their sources, especially ammo and shit, and then just vanished.

So, where do we start?

[Fish]

Following up with Crow's last known location sounds pretty useful! Maybe there's some sort of clues you can find there, or you can pick up on any sketchy situations he could have gotten caught up in.