It's been twelve long years since "The Year of the Comet" and Japan was forced to issue orders that would withdraw their troops from the surrounding regions of their Empire in order to help rebuild their devastated Homeland. Now, over a decade after the "Ring of Fire" incident later, the Land of the Rising Sun seeks to regain its former foothold in these lands long since abandoned by any serious forms of a military presence. Among the Corporations seeking to gain favor in their Emperor's eyes, Mitsuhama, Renraku, & Shiawase stand out as the three most prominent ones to do so. Having already slipped in favor in the past, Renraku Corporation has vowed to do so with fervency and once more reclaim their Number One position amongst the others. Enter our Players and Game.
House of the Rising Sun is a Shadowrun campaign set in the year 2073. Players assume the roles of a band of runners that is hired on under Renraku Retainer. Their goal, that of reestablishing and maintaining a proper foothold in their Employer''s formerly dominated territories outside Japan. Missions will include: Lots of Wetwork, Political Espionage, an occasional Milk Run or two, as well as Lots and Lots of Para-military Activity. After all, in an Imperial Empire filled with nothing but Blood-thirsty Corporate Cutthroats and Sneaky Underhanded Backstabbers, there can really only be one House that truly rises to the occasion and outshines the rest. Can you help Renraku become the House? Join the ranks of the House of the Rising Sun today!
Game run by Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto himself, Eanwulf.
You are awakened from a rather pleasant dream involving a hydro-massage hot tub, more genuine French champagne/Japanese sake than you could ever hope to pour/be poured on yourself and two other consenting adults...
Wednesday March 1st, 2073
Melbourne, Australia
Wherever the Hell You Stay
There is a call coming in on your commlink from an annoyance who introduces himself with nothing more than a loud belch and equally resounding "Oi!". Your chronometer reads some time shortly after 4:00 AM.
The call displays the SIN-tag of one Mason Walker, better known to you as Fatboy. Now Fatboy doesn't normally call this time of hour, let alone in general, so it might very well be important.
One might even consider it wise to go on ahead and take the call...
Welcome Chummers!
Enjoy your first Prelude adventure.
This thread be for Hayabusa, Muskrat, and Zorbeltuss.
Feel free to help create a feel for your characters, describe them reacting to the call, etc.
Enjoy!
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Leviathan sighs with annoyance as he tries to clear his head in response to the ringing commlink, wishing he had not drunk quite so much sake and wishing Fatboy was not calling at such an unreasonable hour. Still, Fatboy did not typically call at odd hours, so it much be important. Leviathan answers the commlink, saying, "Greetings honored Fatboy"--the response is half in jest, half serious. Leviathan is usually very formal with those he does not know well. He knows Fatboy well enough to be more relaxed, but still wants to show him respect--and tease his at the same time. "Honored Fatboy" sounds pretty absurd. If Leviathan had truly felt the need for etiquette, he might well have greeted by Fatboy by his real name instead of his street name.
The sound of the incoming call wakes Point from an odd dream involving fine sake but makes no sound as she reaches over to the table that stands next to the armchair she slept in and intends to grab one of her pistols but stops the unconscious movement. Instead of the weapon she grans the comlink to look at the caller without picking up, seeing no need to pick up as soon as Leviathan replies to it. Instead she mummers something in japanese to herself and waits for anything from her half-brother's conversation with Fatboy.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
Lyssa was up late, as usual, enjoying a virtual bath, a tub and hot water was expensive, simstim was cheap. Too bad that it only gave the feeling and not the effect. Well, virtual champagne was the opposite, supposedly nobody had got the taste right, but since she's never had the real thing, why should she care?
The 100 square meter bathroom she experienced was very different from the tiny hotel room of hers, about as cheap as they came (which in Lyssa's case meant easy to log her reservation as pre-paid) without asking for SIN and without too much chance of unwanted visitors.
Hmm, call from that dwarf, well, funtime's over, could be some serious business so better answer, and switch over to AR, just in case.
"Yeah?"
Last edited by Zorbeltuss on Thu Feb 07, 2013 2:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
The thunderous sounds of some kind of bass-induced rhythm and industrial machinery suddenly fills your ears when Fatboy's call is answered. "Oi!" the dwarf cries out drunkenly over the horrid torrent of music, his slovenly Australian accent only adding further chaos to the situation; "You Sheila's there!?"
Those of you with video capability soon see the following image rez into view of your commlink accesories
Add some wicked tatz, a grey bandana, and one pair of mirrored shades and viola, you've got Fatboy!
No sooner than you reply, then Fatboy immediately cuts forth into a huge belch and then continues. "You twats need to come on down to the 'Hole. Pronto! Mr. Fancypants has something to tell ya. Ears-only if ya know what I mean."
Fatboy is your typical hardcore biker outlaw. Crass, crude, and highly uncouth.
Shiela's means women, his case probably derogatory. See previous comment.
Mr. Fancypants refers to Fatboy's brother Slim, the most civil of the pair.
The 'Hole refers to Fatboys main Chop Shop. Originally part of a renovation project (long since abandoned) set in rural Mitcham, Melbourne, AU, the ‘Hole consists of a two-story bar which rests atop an abandoned three-level parking garage – turned chop shop.
The bar portion of the ‘Hole is also one of the main hangouts for Melbourne's “Rebels†Chapter of bikers. Mean mothers lead by one B.B. King or better known as “Big Bawler†or simply “B.B.â€
B.B. King is an Aborigine ork BTW.
Last edited by Eanwulf on Wed Feb 06, 2013 11:02 pm, edited 2 times in total.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Mood: Heh.
Add tazt, etc to what? I see nothing, Wulf. :/
"Kare ni manÄ wo oshieru," Point says to herself. "I think he's speaking to you," she adds with a grin before beginning to get dressed for a meeting in a bar filled with bikers.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
"Ah, yes, Fatboy," says Leviathan politely if a bit coldly, ignoring the insults. "I assure you that we will be there promptly. Be seein' you," he finishes, then hangs up. He is curious about what all this is about, but they obviously won't find out till they get there. He begins to gather his gear, checking in the others as he does so. "You two ready to roll?"
"Always," Point simply says, donning form-fitting body armor, casual clothes and a wide coat before collecting another pistol and knife that's stuck in the side table.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
Her things were already packed, always ready to ditch the place on moment's notice. Most of the guns being stored in a safety deposit box down at the train station, mind.
She browsed the mass transit tables to find the quickest way to get there, pre-paid by someone else's money, like everything else in her life for the past five years.
Having accepted their caller's proposal, the party waits for his response. "Right then," belches Fatboy without further hesitation, "See you twats later."
"Oh yeah," the drunken dwarf quickly adds before finally disconnecting his commlink, "One last thing. Some of B.B.'s boys are here tonight, so be SURE to tell Dingo that I said it's OK for you to be here. Otherwise, he's likely to tear yer legs off and eat them. HAH! Seriously though, if the daft bastard does start to give you any trouble, just be sure to kick him in the Old Bishop a time or two, but not too hard. He's starting to like that kind of shit and might wind up trying to hump yer legs off instead! Later cuntz..."
Fatboy's call completed, you gather up your belongings and begin to make your way out towards the crumbling remains of the Mitcham suburbs. Within an hour's time you near your destination.
Feel free to make mental notes of what your bringing to the meeting. Last minute deviations, etc. Posting Part II ASAP.
Last edited by Eanwulf on Thu Feb 07, 2013 3:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
