Opposition

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

Alright, so in an effort to talk about the future of the RP, I'd like to outline some things for those in scene #1 and those in scene #2 when it finishes. I am inclined to branch you guys out into different scenes as you'd like, though I did have some particular directions in mind that you guys might take. Let's explore them:

First of all, it seems quite clear that you guys have only discovered one lead regarding the assassin— The Knights. Any of you may choose to pursue this lead by whatever means you'd like. This could entail going to the Knights HQ with peaceful or violent plans in mind. Either would work as a method to uncover new information, but would carry its own consequences.

Next up, Campbell's security force is quite seriously compromised, as is evident by recent events. One of you could take it upon yourselves to seek out more powerful means of protection. This could entail approaching a group in South City and trying to garner their support for Campbell. (There are many different viable routes for this one, and some new ideas might arise when I post the next story post. I think I'm going to wait until scene #2 is done before I release a massive update regarding the election and world events.)

And finally, you're welcome to either join the group at the hospital or delve into something else entirely that we work out together. (More options will open specifically for group #2 when the fate of the voting kiosks is determined.)

For group #1, I'd like to mention another direction I saw us momentarily going wherein the two of you left convened with Delilah to determine where to go from here. This could deal with the Knight captured by @Firecracker_ and the pictures taken by @MagratheanWhale as well as the overall summary and reaction to the assassination event. Let me know what you guys think. Otherwise, we can hurry you guys into new scenarios.

---

I also find that it's about time to make an announcement I've been dreading to tell you guys, but I can't put it off much longer. Between the days of June 6th and July 4th, I'll be unable to post any large story posts or do much of anything other than maybe a little bit of simple upkeep. I'll be going to Lesotho, Africa in conjunction with a nonprofit organization to work on a number of development projects. In spite of this month of absence, I have no intentions of ending or slowing Futility. My plan is to reach a point in the RP where all of you will be able to post and move forward during my absence so you aren't reliant on me. During that time, you'll all have the month to toil over what you're going to post and I can continue moving the story forward upon my return.

I hope this doesn't discourage anyone from further participation. Thanks for bearing with me, guys. Everything's been great so far. Futility marches on!

And as a last minute note for anyone keeping tabs on the RP, I believe we are still able to accept some new characters should there be any interest (despite the bump in the road in three weeks). As we move further from the prologue, however, that may change. Write up a character if you're interested.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

[𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤] has begun! @The Survivor, @BurningCold, and @Kalleth, you are all welcome to find your place in Caduceus XIV. I tried to give you plenty of avenues to explore the hospital and do as you please, but of course, it is important to remember that in Futility, there are always things going on around you. Opportunities may be missed, conversation may be lost, and actions may have consequences on the future.

𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪!

Direct any questions to me. For the rest of you, you'll all be able to join in on this scene soon if you'd like, or we can create some new ones. I've got some ideas in mind that I'll elaborate on in the coming days.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒t 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

ℂ𝕒𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕖𝕦𝕤 𝕏𝕀𝕍

ℕ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟘𝕥𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟜 𝟙𝟟:𝟘𝟛

[𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤], 𝕀𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘....

Awakening in a persistent vegetative state, unable to communicate...

His world, a black void. He couldn't move; he couldn't talk; he couldn't blink. He could think, and slowly the world seemed to start existing around him. It started with a mindless drone of indiscernible chatter. Then, the voices of surgeons.

"Dexter Campbell... Are you conscious? Can you hear us?" And those words were all it took. Campbell inherited the frenzied panic that the surgeons seemed to undertake in hushed voices in the foggiest moments of his thoughts. He remembered who he was, what he was doing, and even a little bit of what happened. There was an... event at the debate. He was assailed... And that was it. Everything else was lost to haze. Strange bits of memory seemed fragmented throughout his recollection of the past. Some details lost were important, others so ordinary and mundane that they would never be recovered. Only one detail was really certain about the mayoral candidate's state.

"No man sustains an injury like this and keeps all of himself..."

Caduceus XIV wasn't the largest hospital of South City, but backed by the Response Squad, there were few medical issues that couldn't be solved in the massive trauma center. The string of Caduceus hospitals seemed to be ever expanding as they multiplied out around America, but Caduceus XIV had a very particular hold in the west. Perhaps it was the rich clientele that kept the business afloat. Perhaps it was a different sort of business operating in the pristine labyrinth of white unseen that granted the complex so much capital. The public would certainly come with questions, but would never find answers. As much as the Caduceus hospitals of the Response Squad were bastions of public health, safety, and miracles, they were shadowy strongholds all the same. One could only wonder how a man like this found himself receiving such premium care.

Of course, the high price margin of the Caduceus hospitals didn't stop the unsavory from making their way inside one way or another. Eerily metallic and glowing mercenaries would camp in the cafeterias, whispering amongst themselves as they went about their business in the complex. Labcoats and security passes exchanged hands from one seemingly official doctor to one much more seedy-looking individual dressed in fatigues in transit through the halls. If one had a careful enough eye, they might even see strange shimmers appearing in the empty halls. There was always things going on beyond the surface of a Caduceus complex...

---

Dexter Campbell's breaths felt like bursts of lightning surging into his lungs. One moment, there was nothing, and the next, the sparks filling his body was all he could think about. He struggled in the tangle of medical cords and tubes that surrounded him until the doctors had finally restrained him. The rest of his awakening was no less hectic as he was forced back onto life support. It took a great while to calm him down. It took even longer for him to get used to the new sensory input around his skull and in his eye socket, but those things were the least of Campbell's worries.

"Did I—... Am I... Disqualified?" That was the first detail Campbell could manage as his reality seemed to fade back into his head, usurping the slew of drugs that overtook his mind in favor of a painless and thoughtless haze. Campbell seemed to recognize the fallacies of returning to the realm of reality as he cringed from the flaring pain. Above all else, though, it was the estrangement in his vision that tripped him up. One eye blurred with the faculties of biotic life and the other still calibrating after its implantation. Campbell could only muse on the fate of man as he lay prone in the stark white bed. Slowly, they'd all find mechanical components interlaced in their flesh. This was just a step... In the right direction? He wasn't sure.

"The election results have been postponed as a scandal has arisen regarding a late arrival on a shipment of voting kiosks. The results should be in within the day, Mr. Campbell. Until then, it's best you not worry. Just rest." The doctor's reassuring words helped the pained man very little. He couldn't help but try to discern the details of the past few days. For more answers, he could only turn to the array of visitors that seemed to be awaiting his awakening. Without much forethought, Campbell offered little more on the matter than "Send them in..."

The doors were opened, and while some physicians remained on standby, the enigmatic surgeon said to have treated Campbell seemed quick to start off down the halls. She was as unassuming as they came, but the secrets held by a Caduceus doctor were anything but ordinary.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

I'm going to try and get the new scene at the hospital started by tomorrow! It's proving a little bit more difficult than expected to write a post a few days after these two scenes while they are still ongoing, as the results of the wrap-ups determine the outcome of the election.

Either way, expect that soon!

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

<Snipped quote by Opposition>

Keeping in mind that this is exam month for me, getting a post out will be difficult but it should be manageable.

But, yeah, I'm okay with it.

@The Bork Lazer

No worries! Take your time. I'm there with you!

Short Cass post is done. I'm going to PM you with some info regarding where the truck is headed and then you can take the wheel.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

_{@The Bork Lazer}

𝕆𝕝𝕕 ℝ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕡, ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

ℕ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟠𝕥𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟜 𝟙𝟡:1𝟘

But maybe Futility didn't last forever, though...
Was that right?

Cass was ready to leap from her position, cut down whatever stood before her, die in the firestorm. She was always ready for that. At the very least, she liked to think that was how things were. Was she right? She didn't know. She couldn't think. Everything was always too loud. The ground always tremoring, the footsteps always echoing, the world always buzzing with sensory inputs; it was like the city was screaming at her. She couldn't take it. Cass shot forward from behind the luxury car only to halt herself as immediately as possible. Had she not grinded to halt, she would have smashed right into the screeching chassis of Mackwell's car as he skidded to a halt in the perfect position.

Their opposition was escaping. There wasn't time to think. There was only time to feel, to experience, to intake the sensory world. There was time to—
"—ride," was all Cass had caught from the distorted voice of her driver. She didn't hesitate, taking to the backseat in some sort of half-dive half-collapse. Cass did her best to settle in the seat from there before their speed started exponentially accelerating. She looped the strap of her monoblade around her shoulder and collected herself long enough to bring her machine pistols into her hands so they wouldn't roll back and forth in the seat. The blood that ran down the side of her face, staining her hair had Cass cursing aloud, though she felt much better as she noticed that her two colleagues were doing much worse numbers on Monica's seats.

"This one's you, Mackwell." The sound of her weapons' ceramics clicking together and hitting one another could be barely heard over the rev of the engine as Cass reloaded her Osuzumebachi. "I'm on standby. Get me close and I'll see what I can do." With that, Cass braced her leg against Mackwell's seat and pulled the seat belt across her body. She shifted her body to view their quarry as best as she could through the window. Then, a final question hit her.

"Anyone heard from Amano? My comms are dead..."

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

Cass post should be out either later today or (more likely) sometime tomorrow.

@The Bork Lazer, I was thinking that I'd let you _{take the wheel} here. Since this is sort of Mackwell's specialty, you could choreograph the chase here and control how you'd like it to go. I can make a Cass post after your next one to cover some basic enemy actions and what Cass does during the ride (as she's about to join you). Generally, though, you're free to do with the scene what you will here. Does that work for you?

---

Hi there. I'm interested. I figured this was a very "Eitrigg" thing to do, so I'm just going to leave this here. Really fascinated with this RP, even though I'm kind of a Cyberpunk noob. Hope it's maybe to your liking, and that this RP isn't dead, and that you may deign to have me along for the ride? Cheers!

Eitrigg “Rig” Waldmann

Artist Credit:

Lily Corradini https://www.redbubble.com/people/lillycorradini?ref=artist_title_name

[Eitrigg “Rig” Waldmann]
[29] | [Male] | [5’11”] | [AB+]

General Information

NAME: Eitrigg Eivorsen Waldmann

ALIASES // TITLES: Rig, The Rigger, Eight

SEX: Male

AGE: 29

APPEARANCE: Eitrigg appears to be a down-on-his-luck private eye, or a brooding detective on his trusty beat, or at the very least, an interesting, no, intriguing gentleman to strike up a conversation with at a bar.

Eitrigg wears his hair long, grown out to hang loose about his shoulders, and he seldom shaves. He never had the genes to grow a decent beard so he’s stuck with the perpetual scruff of the habitual drinker. He has morose brown eyes that glint in the sparse rays of natural light with a golden tint. His face gives an overall angular impression, though that is mostly because his mouth forms a quirking smirk when he’s not actively emoting. Straight teeth though, shiny and clean, not a single false or replaced molar.

Eitrigg’s mug is the most interesting thing about his appearance, given that he likes to wear nondescript clothing as force of habit. Long coats, dark vests, and mussed or stained dress shirts underneath all that are the norm. He can’t be arsed to wear ties, and his shoes had seen better days before he bought them off a Reclaimer looking for Neurosynth cash. In short, the man dresses to depress. Not hard to do in a shithole like the Reclaim Zone, and cheaper, more honest, than going to the trouble of wearing nice clean suits.

OCCUPATION: Eitrigg calls himself a middle-man, but to his clients, that’s defence counsel, to his friends, that’s chief drink-buyer, and to his enemies? ...Rig’s got no enemies. Rig makes friends of everyone, because being friends is Eitrigg’s occupation. And if some of Eitrigg’s friends get better treatment than others, well, that’s only fair. Some friends pay Rig better. There’s one thing all of Eitrigg’s friends have in common; sound legal advice, and a good drinking buddy. They’re also quite habitually stabbing each other in the back through Eitrigg.

CAMPAIGN TEAM POSITION: Personal Attorney / Negotiator / Head of Campbell’s Legal Staff

Eitrigg has come into Campbell’s employ in a kind of hybrid role, both to fill the mayoral candidate’s void in legal aid, a very real liability to be certain, but also to act in his capacity as a kind of diplomatic figure in Campbell’s relations with more unsavory types. Where Campbell has need of gangs, goons, bankers, and buffoons, Eitrigg is there with a briefcase and a firm handshake. Or a bottle of hooch and a stolen cybernetic arm, as the case may be. Wait, strike that, reverse it. Defending Campbell both from teethless lawsuits and toothy hostage-takers alike, Eitrigg is the first and last defence from all things juridical and just plain hostile.

Psychological Profile

Disarming | Charming | Attentive | Deflective | Obsessive | Manipulative

PERSONAL GOAL: <Snipped quote>

Though he would never dare to let anybody know that he could ever dream of something so utterly naive, Eitrigg has visions of the megaregions coming together. The potential of uniting such disparate regions by virtue of common humanity seems next to impossible, but then, so too do the stories of a whole fifty united states, all working in concert. Eitrigg wants to revive a small piece of history, even if it means starting small, with something as seemingly insignificant as the Reclaim Zone in South City.

CAMPAIGN GOAL:<Snipped quote>

Eitrigg’s main reason for joining Campbell’s team revolves around ensuring that the man can act as best he can to raise South City above the ruins that it currently sulks in. Eitrigg is going to really prove that Dexter is the candidate for you, by personally visiting every single residence in the Reclaim Zone and telling you so, if that’s what it takes.

PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY: <Snipped quote>

Eitrigg’s personal philosophy is all about hearing people’s stories, and understanding their struggles and coming to grips with their common humanity. He adores learning new things about others, and his unabiding thirst for more perspectives on the experience of existence makes an outwardly seeming cynic a kind of closeted optimist. He thinks that most everything is relative, and given a long enough conversation, can be explained and given context. Most of the problems arise, he thinks, from when the conversation doesn’t get that far. By experiencing all walks of life, Eitrigg hopes to one day be able to unite everybody under one banner, so that every voice can be heard, every story told, and every life lived well.

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY: <Snipped quote>

Eitrigg feels torn when it comes to politics, and perhaps rightfully so, given his line of work. He can find things to appreciate in all the parties’ manifestos, and even though it causes him grief from time to time, he identifies particularly with the Neo-Luddites. Not insofar as he condemns those who choose to augment themselves, but rather that he feels no urge to do the same and prefers living life naturally, without enhancements. This particular divide worries him more than the other parties because part of Eitrigg knows that without any augmentations, he won’t truly understand some of the stories that augmented people tell him.

In the voting booth? Eitrigg is a staunch supporter of the Pirate Party, despite its low support. Their values of free speech and representation closely align with Eitrigg’s own optimistic philosophy, even if he sometimes questions both their methods and the workability of a literal direct democracy.

SECRETS: <Snipped quote>

Over his years of smooth-talking and legal jury-rigging, Eitrigg has amassed quite the vast wellspring of privileged information. He wouldn’t tell you the slightest, most innocuous little tidbit if it were to save his life, because he figures that that’s what’s saved it so far. Every time Eitrigg sees a headline about a crime boss takedown, or a corporate coup d’etat, or even a local scuffle over a marital dispute, he knows well enough to lay low and wait for things to die down. If you don’t want Eitrigg to know something, odds are he’s already found out from twenty different people who all swear they’re the only one who knows. Given these facts, Eitrigg knows more than his fair share of secrets, but he tries desperately not to keep any of his own. Except maybe his personal goal, though he considers that above all scrutiny as far as he’s concerned.

FEARS:<Snipped quote>

Eitrigg fears death, forgetfulness, and loss of his grip on reality. Fairly simple and easy to grasp. Consequently, he fears SPECS like the plague, partly why he has refused to augment himself at present. Eitrigg also is worth less than loose shit in a fight, and takes cover as any self-respecting lawyer would and should. So don’t go expecting any final act sacrifices or epic surprise shootouts from Mr. Waldmann, because he will disappoint you. Eitrigg also retains mild paranoia surrounding any mild to permanent impairment of his senses, given that these are how he absorbs stories from others. Thus, Eitrigg tries to take better than average care of his hearing, sight, olfactory sense, and his own ability to repeat stories in the form of oral health and hygiene. Lastly, Eitrigg has a phobia of mental hospitals, due to the real possibility of being locked up within one with one’s own faculties intact, but always in question.

REPUTATION:<Snipped quote>

Eitrigg is viewed by the world as a bit of an outsider, but also an everyman. Worldly but not aloof, warm but not oppressive. The world likes Eitrigg, and Eitrigg likes it back. His unifying reputational distinction, outside of his various specific roles for different audiences, is his profound love for alcohol, weak and strong, dry and bitter. Eitrigg has found that the old cliché offer to purchase a beverage works literally 100% of the time. It has never not succeeded at appeasing, assuaging, cajoling, or distracting his interlocutors. Eitrigg is half-convinced asking an executioner to fetch him a single-malt tumbler of good Texan whisky would prolong his life by at least a week and a half.

Most people tolerate Eitrigg, then befriend him, then invite him into their inner circles. His natural charisma and earnest nature make him a very likable individual. All but the most grim and hateful people will at least abide his presence, and Eitrigg does his best to foster good relations wherever he goes.

LIKES:

Stories - Have you been paying attention?
Alcohol - Drink of the gods!
VR Games - Like reading, but way cooler!
Dress Clothes - Preferably worn, and cheap, but still nicer than overalls!
People - They’re just so damned interesting, aren’t they?

DISLIKES:

Unnecessary Conflict - Make love, not war, Reclaim Zone!
Hangovers - They suck ass, and I hate them, and so do you! Don’t lie!
Being Alone - I get bored easily.
Augmentations - For myself, not for others. I don’t judge, I just don’t want to lose my mind.
Sleazy Lawyers - They give the rest of us a bad name!

QUIRKS:

Eitrigg has an overdeveloped nose, and sense of smell. He’s super sensitive to odours and can often sniff things if he smells something off. He also sniffs his hands a lot when he thinks nobody is looking.

Eitrigg’s favourite drink is too hopsy for even the most devout beer drinker, and most people are convinced that Eitrigg’s favourite brand is just pickled oatmeal based on the taste alone. He says they exaggerate, they say his discerning tastes are for briny vegetables, he gives them the bird, they chuckle, he buys them a light beer and teases them for drinking corpo piss.

Eitrigg can sing worth a hot flying damn, but it rarely comes up and his singing voice is rarely in top shape when he’s halfway through his cups.

Eitrigg’s friends call him Eight because it’s easy to shorten his name that way. They call him the Rigger because his ability to bluff at cards is unmatched.

Background Information

”My story’s not as important as yours. Come on, let’s hear it then! Don’t worry about me.”

An Insignificant Tale

Libraries were a dying breed, in 2035. The Waldmanns then, chose to live and work in a carcass. They did their best to preserve the desiccating flesh, to maintain the venerable old tomes and defend them from further decay. They were so busy with this task, it’s a wonder they had any time at all left to conceive Eitrigg Eivorsen.

Eitrigg grew up in the stacks of that library nestled away near the central districts of the Texas Sprawl, the boy knew nothing of dust storms or class warfare, except what he read in meteorological journals and defunct manifestos on old German models for economic revolution by men with funny looking beards. Eitrigg read and read, until his eyes grew red, and he would fall asleep every night tucked amongst the books. His parents made sure he had ready access to food, and tried to give him love and support even as they juggled the thousand different problems that maintaining the infrastructure of the building required. Eventually though, all good things must come to an end. And Eitrigg’s childhood was a lonely one, if not a particularly tragic one.

Eitrigg’s parents had not entertained guests in years, and in fact were seldom seen outside the library, taking to ordering food over the net. Their principle income came from a dividends set aside for public works projects that nobody was paying any attention to during the booming cybertech bubble. Eitrigg was going to meet his parents at the front entrance to the library, to tell them about that very bubble, as he’d read about the phenomenon in both a news journal and a market economics textbook he was studying. At seventeen, almost a man, Eitrigg had perused hundreds of thousands of books, with wide-ranging topics drawing from both popular science, to history, to culture, to technology and engineering, to law and economics. He was fairly certain he wanted to become a lawyer, because he’d heard they could make a lot of money, and his parents were always struggling to make ends meet. Halfway to the front entrance a tremendous explosion rocked the building, and rushed to see what was the matter.

In a not-unrelated issue, the newly appointed leader of the Texas Sprawl had finally laid eyes on a seemingly purposeless pool of money and decided to lay claim to it for usage in a civic works project of his own; building a third extension to his apartments. When he found that annoyingly, the money was being withdrawn before he could spend it, he sent enforcers to go secure the funds.

Those enforcers had gone and left by the time Eitrigg found his parents where they lay, eyes staring without seeing. One of the enforcers had carved the words “Neo-Luddite Whore!” into Eitrigg’s mother’s arm, and his father’s face… He didn’t know what augmentation could do that to flesh, and he had no intention to find out.

Several years later, and a thousand kilometres west, Eitrigg graduated from junior intern to apprentice associate at a firm in South City, trying to compete with the big corpo law firms for a piece of the pie. Unfortunately, the firm that Eitrigg was part of got tanked in an underhanded but admittedly masterful stroke of sabotage which, aside from being Eitrigg’s handiwork and the principle reason he landed a job with the corpo law firm, he was very sorry about.

Cut to the present in the midst of Eitrigg both trying to get partner status with the firm while also convincing them that the election in the Reclaim Zone is of interest and that they should support the outsider Dexter Campbell, when suddenly the news channels are all plastering images, horrible images all over their screens. Eitrigg is laughed out of the office, in a good-natured but final sense, and he goes back to his desk to sulk. As the freelance counsel for the firm, he’s not needed on any active cases, and so despite his grim assessment that there may be no point in his futile attempt to bring justice to South City, he picks up a phone and calls Campbell’s campaign office.

“Hello, my name is Eitrigg Waldmann, and I’d like to be Mr. Campbell’s legal counsel. More accurately, I want to find the son of a bitch who shot Mr. Campbell and lock him up for the next two hundred years! Oh, and I’m available for drinks later. Have you ever heard of this place called Duat?”

Operative Information

AUGMENTATIONS: None.

EQUIPMENT:

Briefcase - Carries all the legal paraphernalia Eitrigg could ever need, and plenty he doesn’t.

Engitech SCR-1-B3 Dataslate - Needed to make all the important calls, as Eitrigg is at his most useful when he can communicate with the team. Also, the dataslate allows him to make recordings, pull up cute cat videos, or broker an illegal drug deal over completely traceable networks (yes it’s entrapment, no he doesn’t care, that’s what gets shit done).

Engitech T3 Earpiece - While not as advanced as its augmentative counterpart, the less invasionary detachable earpiece suits Eitrigg’s purposes nicely, by both functioning as a tool for face-to-face diplomacy and some light espionage. The T3 translates, transmits, and transfers sound to and from a private server linked up to Eitrigg’s dataslate. As the earpiece advertises, it grants Eitrigg simultaneous translation of speech, alongside the ability to amplify sounds over long distances or through sufficiently thin materials, allowing Eitrigg to not only understand and speak any language, but also to eavesdrop like no other.

SKILLS:

Charisma - As elaborated above, Eitrigg is very likable and can enter virtually any social situation, if prepared, with ease. His skills quickly slip if he is taken aback or caught off-guard, but his ability to read social cues and norms is nigh unequaled. In another life, it might have made him an excellent spy, whereas instead, it just lets him get where other people can’t in order to discuss things that would never otherwise be discussed. Oh, ha. Maybe he is a spy. Would you like him more if he said he was?

Legal Practice - Years of experience with a pair of law firms alongside an encyclopedic reading of case law and legal textbooks has granted Eitrigg a gift in championing and/or defending his clients in court. He was on the rise to partner at his respective firm before his ideals got in the way of a promotion.

Persuasion - Eitrigg’s rhetorical ability has gotten him into and out more fights than he can count, and it is above all else his best and only weapon in fear of his life. Often rumoured to have been given a fabled, rare augmentation from a ripperdoc that gave him a silver tongue though he swears that it’s all bullshit, Eitrigg is uncommonly good at talking circles around other people.

FLAWS:

Obsession - Once Eitrigg is focused on a task, he pursues it relentlessly and recklessly. Little if anything can steer him from, for example, finding out why a woman’s child was murdered but she was left alive, nor whether that shiny line at the end of the hallway really is a tripwire, and if so, what the tripwire activates. Perhaps an artifact of the days where Eitrigg could do nothing but sit and read for hours on end, seeking answers to questions his parents couldn’t answer, it remains nevertheless, a glaring issue in Eitrigg’s current employment situation.

Pacifist - While Eitrigg is quite capable of fucking people over in court, or by using mind games to trick them, he has an aversion to physical violence which overrides many of his higher functions. Eitrigg can describe fifty-six ways to disembowel a man with augmented gastric muscles (Yeah, that Reclaimer had issues, but his struggle with mood swings was enthralling), but if you tell him he needs to stab somebody or else they will kill him, he’ll die. This may not be an issue as long as there are others around to defend him, but Eitrigg’s staunch resistance to committing acts of violence puts him at a distinct disadvantage with the rest of the populace of the Reclaim Zone.

Web of Secrets - Eitrigg has been involved with many secretive goings since he came to South City, and as such there are many individuals and organizations who worry about what he knows, and who knows what he knows. Considering that Eitrigg just aligned himself with a seemingly incorruptible mayoral candidate, there are certainly powerful people who may feel that it’s worthwhile to put a target on Eitrigg’s back. One, he may not even know is there. Not every deal worked out in his favour after all, and some of the ones that did ended poorly for the other guy… Just not poorly enough.

NOTES:

Relationship Table Template

Character name	Relationship
[Name of other character]	[Write out your character's opinion and relationship with the character in question.]

@Kalleth

Welcome to Futility!

I really like Eitrigg as is. He'll be quite different than a lot of the cast thus far. All I ask for new characters is that they add a little bit of information either into the backstory or their campaign role to explain why they were drafted onto Campbell's team at this specific moment in the RP. This is particularly pertinent at this point because you're essentially signing on with someone who just got hospitalized and is near death. Once that is added, you're welcome to add Eitrigg to the characters tab.

I'll give you a choice of where you'd like to begin. Eitrigg can either jump into the scene at the hospital with Campbell (this could be a good spot to come into the RP as it could be something of your first interaction with the candidate who needs a lot more than legal assistance), or we could create something else for you. Perhaps an interaction with the crime scene investigators that arrive on scene after the ordeal at Central Square?

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Next post is imminent guys! Thank you all for keeping with me through all the delays and time crunches, and thanks to all the new players for keeping Futility going! You guys are awesome!

Sᴛᴇʀʟɪɴɢ Hᴇɪɢʜᴛs Sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs

_{In chasing thoughts the future...}

"Unity," Alice repeated after her friend. She had appraised most of Augie's statements with momentary scrutiny that soon faded into agreement. The thought of all her friends surmounting the difficulties brought by the whole ordeal with the website granted hope to a woman who once thought of the future, the site, the school all as omens for some worse fate. As Alice finished tidying the stray materials and paints that seemed to surround the easel before her and those adjacent, she listened intently to Augie in between his own stutters.

When Augie had finished, however, Alice gave a long pause. Her absent gaze into a distant nothingness seemed to explain that she was unable to immediately answer his question. After a moment of silence, Alice once again locked eyes with Augie, delivering but one final thought:
"I'm not sure either. I can't imagine I'll ever understand the motive behind something like this, but I don't think it will just go away either. I guess we just have to wait and—"

Alice's speech was cut off as she jerked towards the door. A momentary banging sound had caught her attention, and it seemed to pull her from her thoughts. Shaking herself off, she stepped from behind the easel towards the exit.
"We should probably get back to everyone else before they notice we're gone.

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_{But not catching up...}

The announcement had Alice wide-eyed for a moment. She hadn't reported the markings she'd seen below the stadium, but someone else apparently had. The teachers at Sterling High had eyes everywhere anyways. Despite the news of vandalism, Alice seemed rather at peace in her usual trance-esque state maintained whilst staring at her notebook and making random notes and sketches all throughout its pages. She hadn't bothered to comment on it, but DJ's words did give her pause.

"I'd rather avoid the thought of who's next. We shouldn't joke about it at least... Right?" Her uncertainty was palpable, but was it ever unexpected?

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

@Opposition Added a bit to the end of the backstory, let me know if there's anything super specific you want to see.

@The Survivor

Everything seems solid. You're welcome to move Phineas to the character tab. Everyone welcome both @The Survivor and @BurningCold to Futility. Kane and Phineas will be joining the campaign team here. My plan right now is to get you two in a scenario together, perhaps at the hospital as the first two that arrive to see Campbell after the incident. Thoughts?

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With that said, I have plans to push Scene #2 forward, and have those in Scene #1 move on as of now. I am just now going into finals week, but that's the plan, so please bear with me. For those of you who are nearing the end of your scenarios and are still with us, let me know if you're interested in creating any particular next scenes save for the hospital. I have some ideas I will throw out as the time comes.

Right now agenda is:

1) Cass post (and a story post for Scene #2), so that Bork can continue and near the end of the scenario.
2) New scene post at the hospital for our new characters.
3) Wrap-up at Central Square and create new scene(s) for Margrathean and Firecracker.

This will take time because my schedule is going to get very busy for the next week or so, but that's the general plan. Let me know what you guys think.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

Yeah, I'm still here. Honestly, I was waiting for Prizrak to post but I'm definitely going for the long run with this RP for as long as I possibly can.

@The Bork Lazer

If we don't hear from them soon, I'll add another Cass post and we can continue on with that scenario. Group #2's scene should wrap up pretty soon.