Bay 12 Games Forum

...Riggs and Murtaugh?

Ideas for the police force:
-Each year, 10% of adults are chosen at random to be the police force. People guilty of a crime in the past year are excluded from the lottery that year. People guilty of violent crime are excluded forever.
-People on the force get essentially high-powered squirt guns. Like, really high-powered. Hurts-like-a-bitch levels of high pressure, though not enough to do any permanent damage. Of course, it’s Nuka-Cola instead of water, so it’s also going to be sticky and a pain to get out, as well as relatively obvious if you’ve been sprayed, if only because you’ll smell like Nuka-Cola.

What ideas do other people have?

...don't you mean, the "Thirst Zapper?"

https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/Thirst_Zapper

Despite consisting of only 12 percent of the population, African Americans comprise 50 percent of the leadership positions in this vault.  Otherwise, the population of this vault comprises a cross-section of society from the populace of Huntsville, Alabama.  What could go wrong?

Politics, in my forum game?  Something lighter...

In a post-nuclear society, it will be of the utmost necessity for America to overcome their differences, and unite.  But are some societal cleavages too profound to overcome?  Half of the Vault's population shall be rabid Philadelphia NFL fans, and the other half rabid Boston NFL fans.  Will our vault-dwellers prove as true patriots, or will this experiment go to the birds?

Maybe too American.  So here's something really off the wall...

All male vault-dweller will be unaccompanied bachelors named "John."  All female vault-dwellers will be unaccompanied bachelorettes named "Jane."  Yet, there will be one "James" and one "Joan."  Post lockdown, all rosters, name tags, and Roboco automation will insist everyone is named "John" and "Jane."  James and Joan will be as geographically isolated from each other for as long as possible, until their meeting can be arranged at a suitably precipitous moment?  Will these two go with it, rebel, or develop delusions to explain the situation?  Can they trust each other, or will they pursue separate courses of action?  Upon likely revelation, will these outsiders be mistrusted or embraced?  Marginalized or elevated?  On an unrelated note, many lighting sources will be replaced by natural gas fixtures.

Okay so obvious Moneypenny is going to wrap up the emergency line.  What to do with Bond?  Two options...

Plan Who Needs to Leave the Office?

Agent 156 develops the 779 Project
Agent 109 starts the MURMUR Project

Personally I kinda hate that plan.  GM stated that projects go better when the same agent works on them.  MURMUR is a three turn project and I'd rather not get our field agent associated with it.

EDIT: GM confirmed moving takes a whole turn...

Plan Pro-active Intelligence

Agent 156 develops the 779 Project
Agent 109 flies out the Forwit in Nemorland to establish contacts with the NCV

This puts our field agent in the field.  Right now, the NCV at the Forwit nuclear reactor is the only lead we have.  We also know the hero we rejected is based around the nuclear reactor there.  Or he could poke around and discover what 'research' is going on over there.  Either way, this should be something active to get 109 to rebuild his reputation, and presumably regather favors and financing.

Plan Going Nowhere Fast

Agent 156 develops the 779 Project
Agent 109 does stuff around town

SIGH

(0) Plan Who Needs to Leave the Office?:
(0) Plan Pro-active Intelligence: ConscriptFive
(1) Plan Going Nowhere Fast: ConscriptFive

So here's something we can shove in the center internal slot.  Assuming we're going with La 12th Société, here we go...

Design: C5 Deck

Ah, the C5 Deck, how could we expect our officers to function without it.  What is C5 you ask?  The fusion of a military headquarters with the bare necessities of the 12th Société way of life: command, control, cognac, courtesans, and cocaine.

The core of the C5 Deck is the Battle Bridge.  The Battle Bridge is a centralized command nexus, consolidating data from the helm, engine room, and various battle stations.  Holographic visualizations of the battlefield and ship systems will aid command staff in rapid decision making.  A centralized fire control system can focus fire from our numerous weapon system on a designated target.

Of course, to expect the best from our officers, we must provide the best.  The C5 Deck features a galley providing cooked meals at an included officer's mess.  (While it won't be a gourmet meal service, it'll beat eating paste out of a tube.)  Of course, our officers have other needs as well.  The Officer's Club features a full bar, "entertainers," and recreational stimulants.  By "blowing off some steam" off-shift, our officers can give it their all on-duty.

Mission Report Part (6/?)

Palantir's High School of Drama (Part Four)

Inside the stadium locker room, Coach Charleston gives her team a final pep talk.

"Girls, it's the day we've all been waiting for: game day.  In a few short moments, we shall cross sticks with our enemy."

Most of the teen girls seem nervous, but your operator notes that Maartje Thyssen is eager to crack some heads.  Anna had used the WhiteFalcon kit to search their lockers the other night, and confirmed her suspicious that the butch teen was on a tremendous amount of 'gear.'

"Now some of you may be afraid.  Girls, that's okay.  Our macho male counterparts love talking about 'overcoming fear;'  like fear is weakness in and of itself.  But I'll tell you this, fear is a feature, not a bug.  It doesn't exist to hold you back, but instead to keep you on edge, and thus, keep you in the game.  ...and staying in the game?  Well girls,  I guess that's the meaning of life right there, isn't it?"

Your operator senses she may have gone of script a little too much, and recovers.

"But you know who else should be afraid tonight?  Our enemy.  No one could've possibly trained harder than we did.  We're going to hit them so hard, they'll never see it coming."

The girls nod in agreeance and slap each other on the back in encouragement.

"Alright, team!  Put your hands in!"

The entire locker room joins in a tight huddle, each putting their right hand in the center.  In unison, they cheer, "Strike First!  Strike Hard!  No Mercy!"

***

Coach Charleston stands tall on the sidelines, tablet in hand.  Although this gig was a technically just a cover routine, she was genuinely enjoying herself.  Who knew she'd finding such satisfaction in turning these young girls into strong confident women?  Still, this wasn't what she was being paid for, and with her team on the pitch, she takes the time to survey the crowd in the stadium.

The stadium is nearly full at the inaugural match of the Cranbrook Academy Lacrosse Team.  The crowd itself is a cross-section of fashion tastes from across Rivendell.  Cliques of elves are interspersed with a generally more business casual populace.  Certain others insist on the more Jack Dorsey Bay Area hobo chic, with long unkept hair and ratty hoodies.  Dark suited bodyguards sit stone-faced next a handful individuals, whose kids are presumably on the field.  Nannies and personal assistants tend to smaller children while their bosses idly scroll through their smart phones.  Vendors sell artisanal bottled water, Green Owl energy drinks, and a wide variety of packaged snacks.

From the first whistle, the Cranbrook team dominates the opening plays of the game.  Thanks to Coach Charleston, the Cranbrook girls are well conditioned, and play hard.  Nikki Saylor even proves a key midfielder, with the speed and stamina to sprint across the field every play.  But eventually Cranbrook loses the ball, and the other team makes a breakaway towards their goal.  Rapidly approaching the goal crease, defender Maartje charges the ball-carrier head on.  The girl jukes to the side, but Maartje still connects.  Hitting like a juggernaut, Maartje's lacrosse stick goes right into the girl's unprotected ribs.

Play is immediately stopped by the referee's shrill whistle and rising jeers from the stands.  The referee flashes a red card in Maartje's face.

Coach Charleston storms onto the field to defend her player, "That was a legal hit on the ball-carrier ref!  Two hands on the stick, to the side, below the neck!"

The injured girl is crumpled on the ground in a mess of agonized tears.  Her teammatess are crouched over her, trying to console her.

The referee turns to your operator with a mix of disgust and confusion on his face, "Coach, there's no body checking in girls' lacrosse."

***

Dean Marilee Johnson fumes, "What the hell were you thinking Coach Charleston?"

"Well Ma'am, I-"

"These are just girls!  Besides, you think we'd throw them out there without any kind of protection?  We're lucky no one got their skull cracked open."

Your operator was admittedly curious why the team didn't have helmets and pads, but figured it was a logistics or budgetary issue, "Ma'am, I thought-"

"Now I'm already getting calls from parents, claiming that their waivers didn't cover this kind of bloodsport.  Half are already threatening legal action, and I've yet to hear formally from the other team."

"Ma'am, contact sports-"

"And you came so highly recommended too!  Effective immediately, we are withdrawing the Lacrosse team from the season.  Furthermore, you are terminated with cause.  You have 24 hours to vacate campus housing."

"Ma'am, but-"

"Coach, do I need to involve campus security to assist in this matter?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Now load up your belongings in that little hick wagon of yours, and crawl back to whatever redneck shithole you came from."

***

Kelsey laughs, "Damn, Nikki.  Sounds like Maartje really went medieval there.  The Thyssen's go way back you know...  like, old European industrialist money.  Her Germanic beserker Nazi blood probably got the best of her."

"I dunno about that, but she told me her parents are pulling her from Cranbrook."

"Why, because their little princess turned into a big ole' bull dyke?"

Your operator looks at her stunned.

Kelsey rolls her eyes, "Oh, please.  Like I care about that shit?  It's the New Worlds, girl.  Mommy and daddy probably still cling to 'traditional Old World values,' though.  Maybe they expected Cranbrook would straigten her out?  Guess that didn't go as planned."

"Or she could just be lying low for abit.  She sent that girl to the hospital."

"True.  Sucks they shut the whole team down."

Your operator shrugs, "Yeah, it was fun while it lasted I guess."

"But there is an upside to this."

"Really?  What's that?"

Kelsey puts her arm around your operator's shoulder, "More time to party with your bestie!"

***

Nikita sighs as she returns to her dorm from an aborted night out with Kelsey.  Her excuse was weak, but it was enough to get her out of the nightclub.  (If higher wants to bitch about it, she can always cite the Cowboy Code.)  Furthermore, your operator is coming to the conclusion that Kelsey can't be the suspect they're looking for.  Her drug-use is nearly a full-time hobby, and she barely gets enough relatively sober hours to power through her homework.  She's a party girl who's apparently down for anything, but that doesn't necessarily include treason.  Nikita had tried to get Kelsey to talk about inter-planetary politics several times on this mission, but she'd shown no interest whatsoever.  But Palantir insists it was Kelsey's device that was flagged?  "It doesn't make any sense," Nikita says to herself.

Nikita opens the door to her room, to find Pratima Ambani seated at Kelsey's laptop.  They're both mutually startled, but Pratima speaks first, "Oh!  You're back from practice!"

"Uh, yeah...  Kelsey didn't say any-"

"-she needed me to fix something on it.  Latest update campus IT pushed really messed up some settings.  I probably should get going-"

"-I didn't mean to interrupt anything.  Do you do this alot?"  Your operate becomes acutely aware that she had never set up a button cam to watch the room in her absence.

"Not often... just as needed.  Like I said, I better get going."

Nikita shuts the door behind her, blocking Pratima's exit.  She holds up her phone, "Maybe we should text Kelsey to let her know you fixed it?"

Pratima's face drops as she realizes the severity of her situation, "Well shit..."

Nikita knows she has her now, "I'm sure there's a good explanation here."  She puts her phone away and gestures to her bed, "Maybe we should sit down and talk for abit."

Pratima shakes her head in resignation but complies, "It's complicated Nikki.  But I know you're cool right?  You won't tell anyone?"

Nikki Saylor sits down next to her and looks her in the eye, "I promise."

***

"Hey Mom, hope you're doing well.  I just wanted you to know I got an 'A' on my assignment.  I guess all those things you taught me really paid off, huh?  My roommate wasn't a lot of help, but I made another friend who really pitched in.  Oh hey!  I know you're super busy, but could you make sure 'Tiger' is eating okay?  I miss him a lot, I want to be sure he's being taken care of.  I've got some serious studying to do tonight, but I wanted to let you to know.  Love you bunches and bunches.  Byeeee."

Anna Chapman angrily closes her voicemail as she pulls up to the mountain chalet.  Yeah, she got upstaged fair-and-square, but hearing from someone aping a teen girl voice only makes it more aggravating.  With her campus arrangement revoked, she was on her way back to the Mothership Leviathan.  As she'd expected, rooming near Cranbrook was too expensive, and overnight parking fees were almost as bad.  Living off the grid could be an option, but Rivendell was surveilled by a wide variety of private security forces.  The safest and cheapest option was just to fly back home early.  Banned from campus, it's not like she could do much here, anyways.

But Nikita did throw her a bone at least.  Seems this "White Tiger" was a POI after all.  Nikita indicated she couldn't securely explain further tonight, but Anna already has enough to check this guy out before she leaves the planet.  Her quick OSINT research pulled the property up as rental, so it's highly unlikely the property records would ID him.  But at the very least, she could 'bump' into him and maybe snap a picture?

After unhooking a cable from her ATV's battery, she checks her hair an makeup in the vehicle's mirror.  Undoing a few shirt buttons to show some cleavage, she smiles.  He may like them young, but she doubts an old perv would be a difficult mark for her feminine wiles.  She practices in her head, "Oh heeeyyy, do you know anything about cars?  Mine just broke outside your house!  It sure would mean so much if you could take a look!"

"Damn," she thinks as she strolls up the driveway.  She saw pictures on the website, and it really is that nice a property.  The contemporary style chalet features large picture windows, with a rear balcony overlooking one of the various waterfalls.  "Someday..."

*DING* *DONG*

No answer.

*DING* *DONG* *DING* *DONG*

Still nothing.  Anna thinks, "After ten on a weekday and still out partying?  Not bad for an old man."

The lights are off and it's clear nobody is home.  Time for Plan B.  Anna returns to the ATV, and after reattaching the battery cable, fishes the WhiteFalcon kit out of her packed bags.  Having used the snapgun to pop open a dozen locks over the last few days, she's eager to use it on the front door.  The torsion is trickier to get, but the rental property has pretty generic lock that's defeated after a few minutes.

Turning on the lights, the interior of the chalet looks as good as the website too.  The decor is tastefully abstract, with a kind of sophisticated yet minimalist chic that telegraphs wealthy but mysterious.  (She could see why panties would drop here.)  It's unusual that there's no family or personal pictures, but it is only a rental.  Maybe he wasn't staying long enough to get settled in?  Still, she had hoped to find something identifiable on the walls.

Anna pushes deeper into the chalet, surely the master bedroom would have something she could use...  But this guy sure keeps a clean house.  Checking out the bath, he doesn't even leave a toothbrush and razor out.  Incredulously, she opens the closets and then starts checking dresser drawers.

"HALT INTRUDER!"

Anna's hand goes to where her holstered sidearm would've been.

A bullhorn calls from outside the chalet, "This property is protected by the Riders of Rohan!  Property owner authorizes lethal force!"

As the bullhorn barks out presumably the same message in Quenya, Anna recalls the Riders of Rohan from her pre-mission OSINT.  They're local rent-a-cop outfit that caters to the whole elven aesthetic.  With their costumey earcuffs and elven "uniforms," they'd be hard to take seriously if it wasn't for their full-auto SIG MCX VIRTUS carbines.

"Intruder!  You shall not pass!"

In other circumstances, Anna would be laughing at their Tolkien schtick.  But unarmed, out-manned, and cornered, she's at a major disadvantage.  Except maybe not?  Anna dashes out to the back balcony.   Peering at the waterfall below, she kicks her shoes off.  Hey, it worked for Harrison Ford in 'The Fugitive.'

Ha, that Dagger is pretty fiendishly clever.  Though I'd also like to future-proof our Rubik's with a more powerful main gun...

Design: 160mm Main Gun System (MGS)

The 160mm (~6in) Main Gun System (MGS) is a forward-facing large bore conventional cannon system intended as a primary weapon system.  (In effect, relegating the smaller caliber 40mm nAC as a secondary armament.)

The weapon itself is a single barrel mounted in a casement style turret.  The narrowed field of fire provided by a casement is a necessary sacrifice to properly anchor a large system with tremendous recoil.  However, it is already expected captains would maneuver their vessels for the sake of the primary weapons anyways.  The MGS fires a 60kg (132lb) armor-piercing high explosive shell.

Naturally, the sensors, fire control systems, and autoloaders perfected under nAC development are adapted for this weapon system.

Theorized Tags: Front
Est. Cost: 5, 2 Maint