Tecumseh
Forum Replies Created
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My sister is the starting point for Ichante’s personality, to which I add in some elements of my wife. One thing I’ve noticed is that my wife works well with men but doesn’t work well with other women. Some of that is informing Ichante’s response to Becky.
What’s hardest for me to write is the high-Intuition, low-Logic view of the world. For example, I did the math to figure out how much the obsidian orb would weigh, and was sorely tempted to share it, but that approach would never occur to Ichante, and even if it did she wouldn’t have a clue how to actually calculate it. Luckily Beta took care of it for me. (I came up with an estimate of 20kg, likely because obsidian has a range of possible densities and I chose a heavier one to take the conservative approach.)
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Jack, I can’t comment on your spoken English but your written English is better than the vast majority of native English speakers. I always took you to be an expatriate living abroad.
Gilga, you pass for a native speaker too.
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@Gilga
So Becky’s request is for Ichante to count the credsticks in the guitar case? Which, if we really want to know what’s on them, would require slotting them into a commlink one-by-one.I’ll defer to the GM’s opinion on this, but this seems rather rude to Ichante, to the point where she would likely decline. I’ll roll Etiquette though to see if I can get a sense:
Charisma 3 (6) + Etiquette 5: 11d6t5 4 hits
If it is rude, then Ichante probably won’t do it, largely because it was Becky who told her to. Stubborn dwarf, etc.
@All
I thought part of the posting karma/nuyen award was to gloss over negotiations. Is that the case for Aria’s game but not this one? Does this negotiation have a financial impact later, or is this IC exchange just for RP/fluff? -
Ichante covertly squints at Becky; she’s not sure she likes the blonde. Pretty women are too accustomed to men of the world falling over for them, which can lead to entitlement and imperious behavior. Give me credsticks because I asked for them. There’s no way to make myself not attract attention. I would never blackmail you but I’m going to liquidate the asset if I don’t like your offer. Oh and then there’s the veiled threat, “I used to be Mafia and would break bones over broken contracts. I’m not like that anymore, but seriously I am.” Such behavior is one thing when you’re twisting the Johnson’s titties, but is quite another if it extends to the team after negotiations are complete. Ichante looks over to Lucky Strike, eager for the weathered rawhide to rein in the Lipizzaner before she bolts, or before she bucks the Johnson.
On the other hand, a loudmouth beauty helps keep the attention off Ichante, and she’s fine with that. Let someone else earn the notoriety. Becky might be fine if she’s tough and targeted, but Ichante doesn’t see the appeal in that.
Half a million is a respectable sum. Of course, the artifact could be worth ten times that, but at some point the shadowrunner risks the payday becoming so high that the Johnson has no intention to pay, or has an incentive to hire another team for ¥50k of wetwork to geek the original team – probably at the handoff – and pry the artifact out of their cold, dead hands for a steeply discounted sum. Shadowrunners are constantly balancing the Johnson’s ability to pay with his or her willingness to pay. Everything has a price, including the Johnson’s conscience.
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@Gilga
I’m not quite following Becky’s question:”You seems like you can count… Can you please say how much money are we offered so that each of us can make up their mind if we bite or not?”
I’m probably interpreting it wrong, but it sounds like, “How much money do we need to accept the job?” Which seems like a personal question that Ichante would not be in a good position to answer for strangers. Let me know where I went wrong.
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Ichante is also very good at Disguise, either through the skill (12 dice) or Physical Mask. That said, how much disguise we actually need is debatable. It’s not like the morgue knows what the Doctor’s _____ (insert relative here) should look like. It might just be enough to make Al look less like himself, which is to say “more respectable”.
Sounds like we could talk to the fixer too if we wanted. Maybe we can throw Becky at the fixer while Jazz works the Matrix research angle.
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Ichante scrunches up her face at the 2D still. “Would the vampires really not realize that the briefcase was full of dirty clothes and not an 18kg ball of stone? Shouldn’t the weight have been a giveaway? And what kind of operatives don’t take five seconds to confirm the package?”
Ichante isn’t quite sure what to make of it. If things don’t add up or aren’t logical, then that’s a concerning hole in the Johnson’s story. If the vampires are retarded that that’s something of a relief, because retarded vampires aren’t nearly as formidable as non-retarded vampires.
“Do we have a dossier on Dr. Walton, or do we need to work one up ourselves?” She glances at the mundanes, reasoning that one of them is probably the Matrix jockey. “Given his age and metatype, we might be able to pass Lucky Strike here off as the dearly departed doctor’s brother, here to claim the man’s personal effects.” She indicates that she’s talking about Al. “Maybe even plant something in the morgue’s system to tell them that he’s coming.
“Or, if that doesn’t work, bribes, or B&E. Shouldn’t be too tough.”
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@Beta
Noted, but I really liked this:* Coleman: Being likeable and liking coffee is not a team role.
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And I thought this was a great response:
.* Gamma: Being likeable and liking coffee — isn’t that a decent description of a face?
.In other news, I changed the name of the “Recipes” knowledge skill to “Culinary Arts”. I’ll roll that one around in my head to see if that’s a better fit.
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Ichante nods silently, secretly pleased to be praised for good questions, which is not a compliment she commonly receives. She immediately gives credit to the coffee.
She nurses her coffee cup gingerly, spending as much time breathing it in as actually sipping it. Her elbows are a little higher than they need to be as she unconsciously defends the cup from anyone who might get funny ideas about her willingness to share.
She takes her soykaf with milk and, truth be told, would almost certainly prefer her coffee with it too. Yet she can’t bring herself to add milk to a ¥50 cup of coffee, even if it is borderline bitter without it. But maybe if I could find ¥50 milk! she thinks to herself hopefully, resolving to find some once the job is over.
“The morgue, eh…” she says under her breath, privately wondering why the call of duty never summons her anywhere fun, like Gravity Bar, Icarus Descending, or somewhere else that she could conceivably wear her Ace of Coins without strange looks. On the other hand, he Ace of Coins is back home in Seattle, so it’s just as well that the occasion doesn’t call for it now.
She’s about to ask for an ARO with the arcanoarchaeologist’s details, but the buzzing projector reminds her of the Johnson’s lack of tech savvy. “What’s his name?” she asks. “And how long ago did he expire?”
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“How big is it?” Ichante asks, pointing at the image of the stone globe. “Bigger than a breadbox? And how heavy? Can one person carry it?
“Did your sources tell you where it was unearthed, or – more importantly – where it is now, or do we have to find that out?”
Ichante racks her brains for what she knows about world seals, but only finds dust and cobwebs. Her magic is of a personal, intuitive nature, which means that she feels it more than she understands it. That, in turn, means that she knows frag-all about magical theory, including artifacts.
“Is it fragile? When the Azzies find it, are they just going to open up on full-auto with HE grenades, or do they need to destroy it in one of their bloody rituals?”
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Both from the “Creature of Comfort” angle but also as a foodie. Artisan is one of those catch-all skills that groups a lot of things together that aren’t necessarily alike, but don’t need an individual skill of their own. Ichante has Artisan 6, which isn’t that useful mechanically but I’ll be squeezing it for all the RP it’s worth, which includes cooking (and design for the Fashion spell).
I also took Recipes 4 as a knowledge skill, but in my head this is as much about food in general as it is about cooking. (Thus the distinction ICly between arabica and robusta coffee beans.) I thought about just calling it “Food” but that seemed overly ambiguous. I might change the name if I can think of an accurate, concise way to label it.
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@Beta
I’m fine if the coffee quest is just a single IC post denoting success or failure. Ichante is not terribly disciplined with money and will pay pretty much whatever it costs. She might balk if the price gets north of ¥100, but also might splurge depending on the setting.I’ve heard multiple ways to pronounce Ichante, the primary difference being whether the “ch” is a K sound or a more traditional CH sound. There are also variations whether the first syllable is closer to “ih” or “uh” or “ee”, and whether the final syllable is closer to “tay” or “tee”. So, what’s that, 12 different possibilities?
In my head, I usually default to “ih-CHAUN-tay”, but I’d be lying if the first and last syllables didn’t drift around a little bit depending on the sentence.
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Cigarette acknowledges Ichante but doesn’t go so far as to actually introduce himself, leaving her at a loss at how to respond. She stares up at the man as the man stares down at her. From her low angle she mostly notices the prominent chin. Behind it she can see a nose that has some zig-and-zag to it, which is appropriate because it probably means that the man zigged when he should have zagged. She looks over his outfit and is filled with a sense of deep longing. She yearns to resize his jacket, to bleach his wifebeater, to shrink his jeans, to repair his belt, and polish his Docs. The man is a wounded fawn, sartorially-speaking, that Ichante desperately wants to nurse back to health before releasing into the wild. She settles for a muffled sigh before turning to join Preston.
Preston has at least given his name, which is a start. As he drives, Ichante studies his aura. It’s a odd merry-go-round, as Preston seems to cycle between different impressions and emotional states in rapid sequence. More weirdness, another player using different rules, a new philosophy to learn.
“Oh yes, I quite agree,” Ichante says to Preston’s preference to not draw attention. “The blonde can have it. Flashy will get you killed. The goal is to get rich, not gaudy.”
Preston’s mention of real coffee shoots her forward in her seat so fast that the seatbelt catches her. She strains against it, craning her head to look around.
“Real coffee? Here?” she asks dubiously as she looks around San Angelo. “But we are close to Aztlan aren’t we?” She immediately feels more hopeful, thinking of lush, forested hillsides of Central America growing shaded beans that sip morning mountain mists. Her fingers leap up to comb through her hair, an involuntary reflex when she’s excited, only to find that her hair isn’t its usual sleek self but rather this frizzy halo that Ichante thought would blend in better in Texas. Her fingers paw the air fruitlessly, like a cat kneading nothing.
“Would it be arabica or robusta? What water would they be using to make it? How much would it cost? ¥50 a cup? Doesn’t matter! Yes, let’s stop!” She looks like she might shake Preston to make sure she’s getting her point across.
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Ichante follows the team out the back and seems pleased by the prospect of a ride. She’s also happy to be back outside in the warm, antiseptic sun. She had been in Arm’s Saloon for five minutes, which was four minutes too long.
“Ichante,” she says simply as a matter of introduction. She doesn’t bother with the “nice to meet you” pleasantries because the jury was still out on that. High-stakes gambling doesn’t make any sense to her; if everyone is just going to assume you cheated, and the loser is going to be so angry that he pulls a knife on you, then why not just steal the money and give yourself a chance of avoiding confrontation altogether?
(She had once asked the same question to an old Face she once partnered with, Duke, who was happily defrauding the government out of small business loans intended for underrepresented metatypes. “Point of pride,” he answered. “I always operate within the system.” She thought on that, concluding that everyone had their own way of interacting with The Game they all played.)
Judging by their conversation, Supermodel and Cigarette know each other. Ichante is not entirely delighted to be paired on a job with Supermodel, as the woman’s mouth might write credsticks that her body couldn’t cash.
This Preston fellow looks average in every way, although he has a synthetic cyberarm that’s discreet in the meat but sticks out like a sore thumb on the astral. But he has a car, so yay for that. “I’ll take a ride,” she says, more toward Preston as she warily eyes Supermodel’s ATV. It’s a good off-road vehicle for chasing juggernauts, but right now Ichante doesn’t feel like roughing it. Actually, Ichante never feels like roughing it, but that still precludes “right now”.
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Ichante looks back and forth between Shovel Hands and The Supermodel like a spectator on the sideline of a tennis match. What the frag is going on?
Ichante isn’t terrible logical nor analytical and she knows it, but she can’t quite follow the reasoning of baiting the losing player to play against a “serious” player. If the loser couldn’t beat a non-serious player, what would he do against a serious one?
And what’s with the barb about the size of Niko’s package, but then this strange “call me maybe!” invitation? The Supermodel has some or push-pull routine going on, but it seems to work as Niko runs out, angry, confused, and half-erect. Spirit, that’s one weird aura to assense.
Ichante shrugs. As a magician, she knows that not everyone nor everything plays by the same rules. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” and all that. (Hamlet, Act I, Scene V. Thank you, Eidetic Sense Memory and Ms. Newman’s senior year English literature class.) She’s a prime example of that, so she dismisses the peculiarities of the exchange and follows the Man in Black out back with his guitar.
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It was the “squaws” reference that made me think that Al was seeing her as a Native. Again, a minor point, and it’s entirely possible that Ichante’s looks would still be interpreted as Amerind.
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Ichante’s eyes bulge at the mouth on the supermodel. On the astral, Ichante can tell that the woman is a formidable opponent, but naturally Niko wouldn’t know that. Ichante figures that the woman is spoiling for a fight, as questioning a man’s manhood generally does not end well. Of course, it is also true pretty women get away with things that Ichante never could.
But this is Texas, right? They wouldn’t hit a woman in Texas, would they?
Ichante adjusts her chest to make it more prominent, just in case it gives someone a moment of pause before they punch her in the face.
She backs toward the wall, gravitating toward the man in the cigarette who seems to have the same “this doesn’t concern me” attitude that Ichante does. She grabs a table top, judging how thick it is in case bottles or bullets start flying. She gives it a little nudge to see if she can tip it over. If not, she’ll just crawl underneath.
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Roger that.
Does the money have an IC justification for its existence? Is it our run pay that we earn through IC posts, or are there run payments that are separate from / in addiction to IC post payments?
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How does one take credit for NPC write-ups and filling out the background information? Or is this basically a giant on-your-honor system?
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@adamu
A couple minor points of clarification:Ichante isn’t wearing her business suit; she’s just wearing her Wild Hunt jacket. (I know it’s confusing because I was bouncing back and forth between the past and the present tenses in my initial IC post.) The business suit is what she wore to Denver for her shopping trip. When she found out about the CAS job while in Denver, she used it as an excuse to buy the Wild Hunt jacket, which is what she’s wearing to the meet.
I’m treating the Wild Hunt as “outdoorsy clothes for rich people”. Someone please correct me if I’m wrong, or if the Globetrotter line would be better for that. I considered both, but Ichante’s not the type to spend ¥1,300 when she can spend ¥3,000 instead.
The other minor point is that I’m trying to have her look non-Native. Via keratin control, melanin control, and facial sculpt, she was aiming for something between Anglo and Latina. Of course, whether or not she succeeded is open to interpretation.