Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Current @Ozzy Cross In the Matrix...well...that explains it. The BGS must have really fecked right the hell up if we're dealing with all this.
6 mos ago
YES! YES! My Security Certification has been confirmed! Certified Security Professional baby! YEAH!
8 mos ago
I passed! Wooo hooo! I passed I passed I passed! One step closer to my Professional Security Certification! Oh baby I passed!


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The last one hundred and twenty kilometers to Tangayi on the Big NB, is known for three things. The hacked back foliage along it's edges, the spectacular view of the central plains beyond that and, well the endless traffic. It's almost like driving the Queen Elizabeth Two highway in Alberta, or watching the German Autobahn sometimes. Almost endless traffic. And having a big fat Soviet era cargo truck groan to a halt on the near un-laned highway, well. The other traffic has to dodge. The driver of the ZIL grumbles, flashlight held between his teeth, and shoving the jack up under the truck. The flashlight shaking as he grumbles something in a harsh bastardized form of what sounds like a mix of English, and German. The man mutters something that sounds like, "They have to give me the bad one. Always me. Always Gunter..." He starts to lever the truck up with a grunt. Ignoring other vehicles blazing around them. An egyptian cargo truck there, a surplus soviet era 4x4 next, an honest to god year 2000 Bugatti, with shouting Matanban teens at the wheel. Children of one of the mining chiefs perhaps.

As he works the man suddenly stops and looks up, and right at Yekaterina approaching him. He takes the light out of his mouth and shines it at her feet then calls out in that broken language of his, "Hey! Why out of truck?" Another ZIL growls past them. The driver groans and tries to get back to work.

In the distance a series of pops and cracks. And roaring engines. The driver looks up again then ducks under the car as several jeeps and SUVs approach at even higher speeds then some of the other vehicles approach. Riding in passenger seats, standing in the back of truck beds, proudly shouting and roaring to the sky, surplus AKs, FALs, and G3s popping rounds into the air. Less like they are trying to cause trouble as to just get attention. As the six vehicles race by one of them heaves back then throws something at the stopped truck, something about the size of a grenade pinging off the side of the truck and rolls to a stop right at the feet of the driver under the truck...

And nothing. The item sits there. The driver after awhile crawling out from under the truck to look at it, "Not bomb?" He picks it up, and manages to unravel a flyer from around a rock.

The Flyer reads, "SAMC invites you all to a get together and BBQ at their offices on the Eastern side of Tangayi, come and enjoy the hospitality of the SAMC board of directors." In very small print it also reads, "Recruiters will be on site." The driver hands the flyer to Yekaterina, "Maybe good?"


It's dark under the canopy. Blacker then pitch even. Someday in the future only one thing would be darker and that'd be Vantablack. But now right now this is dark. Without a light it's hard to tell which way the pair are going. Easy to get turned around in the jungle. But luckily, just barely they can make out the slowly rising dawn sun. Atleast they know which way is East. And the capitol can't be that far.

It's some time later though that they luck out? Maybe? Well some kind of luck. As between one hack of the machete and the next suddenly a drop off. Holy fuck it's a logging road! And as if on cue and early early EARLY morning truck is rollign towards them, lights blazing, with a surprised honk the large loggingrig rolls to a stop. The dark skinned man who gets out isn't African, he's French. He starts shouting at them in French, "What the fuck are you two doing here? Do you have any idea how dangerous the jungle can be?" He climbs down out of his truck and crosses over to the pair, "What the hell? You mercs? Who are you working for? SAMC? COGS?" Upon saying COGS the man spits to the side disrespectfully. He sniffs then, "Ah, come on. I'll give you a ride to the camp. Maybe one of the foremen can get you to the capitol, he can take you to the offices. Get you settled. Hear there's a big get together going on over there." He gestures for them to join him in the cab of his truck.


Elsewhere the train shifted again and this time Hayden sighs and gives up on trying to sleep any longer. His eyes opening and he can see the slow dawn rising.

And suddenly the train begins to slow. It's clear. The serengeti about the train line coming to a stop as the train grinds to a halt. And several trucks starts to drive along side train. Some with Red Cross logos on them some with COGS though they stay on the left, while on the right are a bunch of SAMC trucks. Hayden hums and casually as he can reaches up for his bag, grabbing the battered Hi Power out and carefully hiding it before any of the real aid workers see it. He hides it in his jacket. As he sees SAMC and COGS men board the train.

There's a tense quiet moment as groups of them meet between cars. Then the COGS go to the high class cars while the SAMC proceed into the third class cars. One of them crying out, "Everyone here. If you are Matanban, stay seated. If you are not. Stand up!" And about two thirds of the first car, and many more in the other two third class cars also stand. Hayden among them. The Canadian keeps his hand ready to grab his gun as the SAMC militia work their way through the standing crowd. One of them speaking from the front, "People of foreign lands. You come to Matanbai. Home of Proud people. Here you are the strangers not us! Remember that SAMC, watches over the ones who are strong and kind. Though COGS say otherwise. SAMC is wise. Matanban people may go in peace when the train stops. But you Red Cross and you foriegn people will come with us, in busses. To the SAMC offices."

Hayden's eyes narrow. And watches as the SAMC and COGS begin to exit the train, leaving one man in every car to watch over the people. Hayden hums, sitting down again as the train starts to move. And all he can think is, "Damn...this is not good..."
Alright full circle. I love it.

I will begin writing after I finish my traveling tomorrow.

Going to The Hu in concert tomorrow kiddos.

But need to make a 6 hour trip down to the city tomorrow.

Post skeleton is already in the noggin.

Bear with me.
Well if we're going to consider it I will give it some thought and run a overview of the idea by everyone before we get in any critical firefights.

I will say now. Don't get too attached to anything you pick up before our first chapter actually gets into full swing. Your chosen pistol is golden. But any major primary might be iffy for abit.

Capitol is northern I will say
Alright, first post up.

General time of day, which I will try and make apparent to give us a time reference in some posts, is up.

Make your insertions. Once we're all inserted, we can begin the fun.


I want to ask you all about an idea I had, I came up with it mostly because I remembered how cool I thought it was in the source material.

what do you think of a "wear and tear" mechanic. That I would try and keep track of for this.

Meaning the more you use your equipment the more likely it is to degrade, malfunction and eventually potentially break.

Wanted to run it by my currently active players.
Location: Third Class Car, Blue Line, Matanbai Rail lines
Time: Just a little past Four AM.

The train carriage bumped and shifted as it clattered down the rails. Various people within and without shifting. Some in their sleep some, night owls most like, try to resume doing whatever they were doing before the train shifted.

Up in the First Class car most of the people are in their bunks. Happily sleeping away the night. Tourists and sight seers, rich dentists and doctors out for a peek into the slums of the world. And along down the line it goes as people have more realistic reasons for travelling these rails.

Reporters, journalists, members of the press. Well funded support and relief workers coming into the company. Not for Profit organizations that want to help out in a soon to be war torn country. And people who want to look good but can't claim to any fame...yet. That's up in the middle class cars.

It's back in the lower class cars where those people who aren't highly funded or are humble enough to admit they don't need money and can offer their services properly perhaps.

And usually someone like this man would stick out. He's obviously been through something. Something that has left a stain on his soul and outlook. Even while sleeping he seems to be ready to go at the drop of a hat. And he does indeed rock and roll at the drop of a hat as a train worker stupidly fumbles his way through the car. The man slips abit and tries to catch himself, in doing so putting a hand on the broken man's shoulder. The man in question, with all the speed of a viper lashes out, grabs the hand pulls the train worker even further off his feet and to one knee...all in a few moments. The broken man's fist cocked back. Until he finds himself again and he smiles, " yeah..." He helps the train worker to his feet and lets him move on. The Worker looking a little shocked, enough so that he quickly runs off, somehow having better footing then a moment ago.

The broken man sniffles and looks around, to make sure no one saw what just happened. He corrects the placement of the redcross badge on his lapel, part of his cover. He's close...just a little longer.

The man has a passing moment when he thinks, just how many others there are like him inserting or infiltrating this little country. And where they are right now, and if he'd recognize them when he found them.

He briefly recalls his mission pack. And the words, "All Operatives are tasked to arrive in the capitol of Tangayi before beginning their mission."

The broken man, one Hayden Moses swallows thickly and leans back in his seat. Only a matter of time now.

My little crazy guy.

Alright then I will give both cses approval put them in the characters thread.

We will give @Skwint another day or so
Oof...okay people are gonna hate me.


Good CSes. Well done on them both. The only question I want to ask is if you are positive you can manage both characters in game? If the answer is yes I'll give you the benefit.

But all information I can find says the P320 entered use in 2014. Which is atleast 10 years ahead of our time line. So I suggest finding something a little older.

The Glock 17 as long as it's no newer then say the 17MB model can pass. Just without the Silencer. If you still want that silencer, then hey you might be able to find it in the field.


Good CS. Well done.

again Oof, that GSH just barely edges in. It's a brand new gun basically in this time line. So you're gonna hate me for this. But brand new guns...are very very scarce in Matanbai. VERY scarce. I'm sure you get my drift. And you're going to have to do without the loader. Might be out in the field. And if it is, it's going to come at a premium. Because again the gun is BRAND spanking NEW at this point.

And by Brand new, I mean the Hyena doesn't deal in it. It's that new. He can shift Cold War and 80s and 90s guns into the country easily enough. But something that just came out of development and is starting use? Yeah it's hard to get a hold of those.

I ought to have my own CS up in abit. And if you guys like you can grill is and let me know. I'm up for criticism.

Please make those changes the both of you.

We can give Skwint a little time. If he doesn't show up within a day or so. Then we start without and I put out the word there is an open spot.
Okay let's see...that work?


Given Co-GM status. Mostly because he knows my schtick and because we have differing schedules. So there will be someone around when I'm not to answer questions.


Yes, tons of room, but still limiting it to four people in the RP for now.

So hopefully @Skwint will show up.

I don't mind starting this with three people though.
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