- Location
- in the trash
Knowing
Panopticon: A Game of Posthumans, Perniciousness, Paranoia, Politics, and Plasmaguns
Knowing
Dirtnap
Kanmusu Affecionado
How can she do that when she's pancaked tho?
- Location
- in the trash
There's a WW2 era Matter rote that lets you make high explosive flour, which you can use to make pancakes.
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Janice XIX: Logos
Janice XIX: Logos
"I'm here to talk to you," Janice says, hands folded on her lap. "And as for who I am? It isn't important. Not really. We're here to talk about you."
Warren Roth leans forwards; chiselled jaw square, eyes sharp, dark hair slicked back almost like it's a helmet. "Please don't waste my time with silly games. I wanted to see if you would have the guts to admit it, but you're instead trying to be 'clever'," he says. The contempt drips from his voice. He is a big man. Not fat, and not even overtly muscled, but he sits like someone used to dominating social spaces. He tries to fill the room, and certainly the conversation. "So let me answer the question I just asked. You go by the name 'Janice Moullin', but that name is a lie, a 'shadow name' as you call it in the superstitions of the neo-pagan reality deviant sect known as the Verbena."
"True." He's done his research, and she can read he's the kind of man who likes even his enemies to try to argue with him. So she won't argue. He's right.
"You're just smarter than most of your kind," he continues, "because you use a false name that's entirely plausible, and have obtained a false identity that makes use of a dead child's birth certificate. Now, your real name is…"
She raises one finger, intuition letting her know exactly how long to let him rant to let the emotions out while also interrupting him before he can get into full flow. "No, no, you misunderstand. Who I am really doesn't matter, because the question is about you. I don't matter; I'm just here to talk to you. Talk about your own beliefs. Anyone could be asking these questions. I'm just the one who happens to be here, right here and right now."
"Nonsense."
"If it's nonsense, why were you ordered to come here and listen to me honestly?" She doesn't smile, doesn't smirk, doesn't gloat. She just lays those facts out in front of him. Janice can read Warren Roth and he is an angry man. Logic is safer with him, because logic is his mask that hides his inner rage. It won't win arguments, but he won't explode. Not yet.
He doesn't respond immediately. He's measured; not rash enough to charge in like a young man. He knows to leave something back.
The starters arrive, and they are perfectly chosen. They should be, for the prices here. Janice wouldn't be surprised if the cost of the dishes put before them could be measured in man-years of food stamps. The drinks certainly could. And Warren can see her slight pause there.
"You're not used to eating like this. You're very aware of the cost," he observes, lifting his fine crystal glass and peering at her through the blood red wine. "You think it's a decadent waste - oh, don't look so surprised. I did my research on you. You're one of the people I marked out as a major threat in New York."
"Should I feel flattered?"
"Yes." He sips his wine. "Try the infused pâté, by the way. And yes, you should feel flattered. You're dangerous because you're smart. You're dangerous because you know how to make use of enlightened techniques and you save your reality deviancy for when it has the most impact - not like the idiot children on your side who cripple themselves with flashiness. But above all, you're dangerous because you realise how to win the war for your side. Not like those idiot Disciples or those cowardly pagan-witch cults hiding up in Massachusetts or those fat Freemasons who think they're so clever as they mingle with high society and play their games with magic circles."
So. Liam did tell him about Selene's lot - or had it extracted. He'll pay for that in this life or the next. "You're trying to put me off guard," she says.
"Of course I am. And you know I'm telling the truth. You're trained in hyperpsych - you'd know if I was lying."
"The most deadly deceit is the truth." It isn't Janice who says that. It's Ami, speaking through her. "Hide yourself in what is true, and what people want to believe to be true, and you can slip all manner of things through the cracks."
That makes him start. Just enough for his wine to wash around in his glass and he hides it with a casual hand motion that swirls his drink, but she notices. "Straight out of Union textbooks," he observes. "My. You are well-read."
"Where do you think the Technocracy got such knowledge?" Ami continues. "Everyone does it."
"Everyone does do it." He's smiling, but it's not a happy smile. It's a macho, tooth-baring smile.
"This isn't the first such war of ideas."
"Stop it," Janice hisses at her mentally, locked away inside her own flesh.
"No, this is important. It means something. I'll tell you later," Ami psychically whispers, before saying out loud, "It's a very old war. It's been going on since written history began. Since men first laid down ideas as something separate to themselves."
"And that would be the core reason you're dangerous. Because you understand this is a war of ideas, and you understand that the Technocracy cannot be allowed to grow fat and slow on the produce of victory. There is the idea that the world can actually be understood, and then there is the idea that we should just sit back and let the monsters in the shadows do what they want. The war is not over until there are no more monsters left, no matter what some say."
Janice psychically elbows Ami out the way. "A perpetual revolution? How very Marxist of you."
"And also Trotskyist." Warren Roth puts down his glass. "Are you shocked I'm not just some fat cat spewing Ayn Rand's doctrine into your ears?"
And that's something she can work on. She's seen his astral form, how he thinks of himself. "I don't believe you care about either. You're not even a capitalist. Not really. Everything is weapons to you. Your businesses are a way to arm yourself; your workers are unknowing - and knowing - soldiers; your contacts are spies." She carefully loads her fork up with baby tomatoes. "You're not a businessman at all. You're a knight in midnight armour, silently bemoaning you're talking to me in a power suit rather than a powered suit."
A dark chuckle. "I'm already convinced you're dangerous and have access to information you shouldn't. There's no need to push me further."
"When all you have is a gun, everything looks like a target."
"And yet you still push." He smiles. "You're trying to get under my skin."
She smiles back. "Well, I didn't bring a knife, so words are all I have."
That actually produces a genuine laugh. They both know she wouldn't stand a chance against him. He may - or may not - know about the hidden gun she has on her, but now she's seen how he holds himself she suspects it'd only work if he was caught completely unaware. Otherwise, he'd just dodge.
And of course, her comment just let out a little tension. Just as she intended.
There's little talking as they finish the starters. They are enemies, and this is not a date no matter what Ami might sarcastically say. The strangely unobservant staff come over to take their orders for the next course and clear the plates. Both her and Warren can feel the emptied table has just become a battleground.
Outside, the clouds she's sure were unnaturally created by the Technocracy code she used are thickening. Above the sky is a dull red, reflecting the lights of Manhattan. She hopes it's not an omen of bloodshed.
She gets her strike in first. "Do they know?" she asks.
Warren bites back what he was clearly about to say. "Know what?
"That you're willingly going to let thousands of people die? That you're betraying the other Technocrats who are trusting you? That you've concealed the atrocity those madman are planning?" The last part is a guess, but it's an educated one. She points accusingly at him. "You're not just standing by and letting it happen - and that would be bad enough. By this point, you're complicit."
"Are you done?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"You're not even going to deny it?" She didn't see this coming.
"Not here, not to you. You'd just know if I lied to your face."
His bald-faced blatancy is almost enough to derail her. She desperately wants to throw her very expensive wine in his face. "How can you consider yourself a loyal member of the Technocratic Union?"
"I am a loyal Technocrat," he counters.
"Are you?"
"I'm not playing this kind of stupid word game." Once again, a reminder that Warren Roth knows how to disengage, rather than be caught fighting on an opponent's home ground.
"If you're loyal, why do this?" She meets his eyes. "Do the lives of the people in New York mean nothing to you?"
"My orders supersede them. And above that, I'm loyal to the ideals. The ideals which took us from a world dominated by people like you." He pauses, deliberately. "Do you talk to people about what happened in Fairbrook?"
She ignores him. She made peace with that long ago. And in his desire to get at her, he's rushed into a trap. "Don't make me laugh. Loyal to those ideals?" She places her hands on the pressed linen tablecloth before her. "You're willing to betray your fellows. You're willing to let countless civilians die. Is it all for your rage? Do you want blood that much?"
"It's not my plan," he says, glowering at her. "It's your side who are the monsters here. Or did you not know what your allies are doing? Do you want to talk about blood?"
She refuses to rise to his bait. "This isn't about them. It's about how you're going against the self-proclaimed purpose of your own organisation, using only…"
"Did they not tell you? How they're planning to make use of the monstrous haemophagic coalescence under New York, deliberately…"
".. sophistry and technicalities. You're a little boy running away giggling because you think…"
"... spreading the contagion to the civilian population to force people to 'open their eyes'."
"... you're so clever for having found a loophole. The spirit of the Precepts apparently means nothing to you," Janice snarls, thumping the table. Her own anger is a mask, to cover her pale shock. Damn the Disciples. Damn Liam. Damn all the fucking stupid Traditionalists on her side who'd think to try to use the ancient vampiric flesh horror she's only heard about from the werewolves. But she's got Ami in here with her, and she draws on that same willow-like mindset to bend rather than break. "You're a hypocrite! You wave your Precepts of Damian around like a war-banner, but break them yourself! Do you really believe that deliberate inaction is excusable?"
"Deliberate inaction?" he roars back, bringing his fists down and sending a fork flying. It breaks something expensive behind him. "The entire Union is snarled up in deliberate inaction! How many will die in the long run if deviants and monsters are allowed to run around freely? How many will be corrupted if the wrong ideas are allowed to spread? Why do we do this? Because it's easier? Because it's less work? Because most of the New World Order and the Syndicate take sloth and call it prudence!
He sits back down, breathing deeply. He adjusts his tie. "You think you can lecture me like a naive child about the immediate cost of what will happen?" he says. face still red.
Janice takes a deep breath too. "Yes. Yes, I can. This isn't about the Technocracy, because you're willing to betray your fellows. This isn't about your vaunted 'Precepts of Damian'," she can't keep the contempt she has for that Pogrom-justifying rubbish out of her voice, "because you break their spirit and their letter. It's all about you."
"It's not about me," he grates. His face is still red. "Do you know what I've given? If it was about me, I'd take the slow, fat lazy way like the others."
"It's all about you. You're wrapped up in your pet crusade. That's everything. You were fighting your personal war before you even joined the Technocracy." Janice leans forwards. "You're not really a Technocrat. It's just an excuse. You don't believe in your organisation."
Warren snorts. "Neither do you. I talked to your Liam, witch. Oh, he hated you. He hated you city witches, and he hated you in particular. Every word you spit at me applies to you too. Oh, the context might change, but we're really not so different. And that's why you're here. You recognise it, deep down, and you hate me more for it. I said it earlier and I'll say it again. We both understand that this is a war. You understand that your side wins by letting us think we're on top. Every time a Unionist ignores your cabal because you're 'not hurting anyone' and goes after some trash vampires that those monsters can replace in a week, that's your victory working in deeper.
"So that's why you're here. Because you know you're going to lose the war of bombs and bullets, so you think you can dissuade me. You think you can make me doubt myself. It's why you're here, after all." He's smiling once again, although his face is red and his suit is straining. "It's another test for me."
He's less wrong than he should be, and Janice hates him for it. She hates him so much that when mentally Ami elbows her aside she's almost glad because it stops her saying something she didn't mean to.
"A test? Yes, Control does like tests like this," Ami says, and though her words don't show it Janice can sense the bitterness rolling off her mind. "Of course someone like you needs to be put in a position where they can be observed reacting to a reasonable, well-argued, non-violent Traditionalist who'll provide a human face to the enemy. It's to test you for breaking points."
"Your point is?" Just a slight hitch. She's not acting like she should be, and that means he's just a little bit off balance.
"They've done it before. They've done it again." Ami plays with the spoon in front of her, twirling it with more agility than Janice could manage. "You rely on turning people into numbers and figures and casualty counts so you can keep empathy off the table. Just you and your rage. I'm just another test from watchful eyes, to see how you act when someone with a human face who's too much like you comes to talk to you. Isn't that right?"
"Hmm." No comment. No comeback. Just a thoughtful look.
"Someone told you that even simulated reality deviance was acceptable to complete your goals," Ami says. "Someone told you that you could use whatever proxies you wanted." She places the spoon down. "It's all been done before. Nothing is new. So they just put the right man in the right place. Isn't that correct?"
Seamlessly Ami sides back, and a pulse of memories bleed through from her, infusing themselves into Janice's forebrain. It's another sign that the deathly divide between them is getting unhealthily thin, but Janice appreciates it. She understands what Ami was doing, now. It's just what she would have done, if she knew about
blood death betrayal Control love hatred endless service
the HELMETSHRIKE organisation.
Warren sees nothing of it. He doesn't realise that the woman before him is two-yet-one people, and one of them just laid a trap for him. He leans forwards. "A single man can act to do what must be done. Endless committees and scared bureaucrats tangle themselves up, but a single bullet can change the course of history."
No real concrete blows, I'm afraid, and he gave as good as he got. Warren Roth is not a man who fundamentally is doing this for 'logical' reasons.
The Second Phase
[ ] Logos - Already used
[ ] Pathos - "How many families will you kill, leaving only a child to weep at the graveside?"
[ ] Ethos - "Must be done? You condemn us, but you had to reach to find the maddest radicals to help your plan."
[ ] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
"I'm here to talk to you," Janice says, hands folded on her lap. "And as for who I am? It isn't important. Not really. We're here to talk about you."
Warren Roth leans forwards; chiselled jaw square, eyes sharp, dark hair slicked back almost like it's a helmet. "Please don't waste my time with silly games. I wanted to see if you would have the guts to admit it, but you're instead trying to be 'clever'," he says. The contempt drips from his voice. He is a big man. Not fat, and not even overtly muscled, but he sits like someone used to dominating social spaces. He tries to fill the room, and certainly the conversation. "So let me answer the question I just asked. You go by the name 'Janice Moullin', but that name is a lie, a 'shadow name' as you call it in the superstitions of the neo-pagan reality deviant sect known as the Verbena."
"True." He's done his research, and she can read he's the kind of man who likes even his enemies to try to argue with him. So she won't argue. He's right.
"You're just smarter than most of your kind," he continues, "because you use a false name that's entirely plausible, and have obtained a false identity that makes use of a dead child's birth certificate. Now, your real name is…"
She raises one finger, intuition letting her know exactly how long to let him rant to let the emotions out while also interrupting him before he can get into full flow. "No, no, you misunderstand. Who I am really doesn't matter, because the question is about you. I don't matter; I'm just here to talk to you. Talk about your own beliefs. Anyone could be asking these questions. I'm just the one who happens to be here, right here and right now."
"Nonsense."
"If it's nonsense, why were you ordered to come here and listen to me honestly?" She doesn't smile, doesn't smirk, doesn't gloat. She just lays those facts out in front of him. Janice can read Warren Roth and he is an angry man. Logic is safer with him, because logic is his mask that hides his inner rage. It won't win arguments, but he won't explode. Not yet.
He doesn't respond immediately. He's measured; not rash enough to charge in like a young man. He knows to leave something back.
The starters arrive, and they are perfectly chosen. They should be, for the prices here. Janice wouldn't be surprised if the cost of the dishes put before them could be measured in man-years of food stamps. The drinks certainly could. And Warren can see her slight pause there.
"You're not used to eating like this. You're very aware of the cost," he observes, lifting his fine crystal glass and peering at her through the blood red wine. "You think it's a decadent waste - oh, don't look so surprised. I did my research on you. You're one of the people I marked out as a major threat in New York."
"Should I feel flattered?"
"Yes." He sips his wine. "Try the infused pâté, by the way. And yes, you should feel flattered. You're dangerous because you're smart. You're dangerous because you know how to make use of enlightened techniques and you save your reality deviancy for when it has the most impact - not like the idiot children on your side who cripple themselves with flashiness. But above all, you're dangerous because you realise how to win the war for your side. Not like those idiot Disciples or those cowardly pagan-witch cults hiding up in Massachusetts or those fat Freemasons who think they're so clever as they mingle with high society and play their games with magic circles."
So. Liam did tell him about Selene's lot - or had it extracted. He'll pay for that in this life or the next. "You're trying to put me off guard," she says.
"Of course I am. And you know I'm telling the truth. You're trained in hyperpsych - you'd know if I was lying."
"The most deadly deceit is the truth." It isn't Janice who says that. It's Ami, speaking through her. "Hide yourself in what is true, and what people want to believe to be true, and you can slip all manner of things through the cracks."
That makes him start. Just enough for his wine to wash around in his glass and he hides it with a casual hand motion that swirls his drink, but she notices. "Straight out of Union textbooks," he observes. "My. You are well-read."
"Where do you think the Technocracy got such knowledge?" Ami continues. "Everyone does it."
"Everyone does do it." He's smiling, but it's not a happy smile. It's a macho, tooth-baring smile.
"This isn't the first such war of ideas."
"Stop it," Janice hisses at her mentally, locked away inside her own flesh.
"No, this is important. It means something. I'll tell you later," Ami psychically whispers, before saying out loud, "It's a very old war. It's been going on since written history began. Since men first laid down ideas as something separate to themselves."
"And that would be the core reason you're dangerous. Because you understand this is a war of ideas, and you understand that the Technocracy cannot be allowed to grow fat and slow on the produce of victory. There is the idea that the world can actually be understood, and then there is the idea that we should just sit back and let the monsters in the shadows do what they want. The war is not over until there are no more monsters left, no matter what some say."
Janice psychically elbows Ami out the way. "A perpetual revolution? How very Marxist of you."
"And also Trotskyist." Warren Roth puts down his glass. "Are you shocked I'm not just some fat cat spewing Ayn Rand's doctrine into your ears?"
And that's something she can work on. She's seen his astral form, how he thinks of himself. "I don't believe you care about either. You're not even a capitalist. Not really. Everything is weapons to you. Your businesses are a way to arm yourself; your workers are unknowing - and knowing - soldiers; your contacts are spies." She carefully loads her fork up with baby tomatoes. "You're not a businessman at all. You're a knight in midnight armour, silently bemoaning you're talking to me in a power suit rather than a powered suit."
A dark chuckle. "I'm already convinced you're dangerous and have access to information you shouldn't. There's no need to push me further."
"When all you have is a gun, everything looks like a target."
"And yet you still push." He smiles. "You're trying to get under my skin."
She smiles back. "Well, I didn't bring a knife, so words are all I have."
That actually produces a genuine laugh. They both know she wouldn't stand a chance against him. He may - or may not - know about the hidden gun she has on her, but now she's seen how he holds himself she suspects it'd only work if he was caught completely unaware. Otherwise, he'd just dodge.
And of course, her comment just let out a little tension. Just as she intended.
There's little talking as they finish the starters. They are enemies, and this is not a date no matter what Ami might sarcastically say. The strangely unobservant staff come over to take their orders for the next course and clear the plates. Both her and Warren can feel the emptied table has just become a battleground.
Outside, the clouds she's sure were unnaturally created by the Technocracy code she used are thickening. Above the sky is a dull red, reflecting the lights of Manhattan. She hopes it's not an omen of bloodshed.
She gets her strike in first. "Do they know?" she asks.
Warren bites back what he was clearly about to say. "Know what?
"That you're willingly going to let thousands of people die? That you're betraying the other Technocrats who are trusting you? That you've concealed the atrocity those madman are planning?" The last part is a guess, but it's an educated one. She points accusingly at him. "You're not just standing by and letting it happen - and that would be bad enough. By this point, you're complicit."
"Are you done?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"You're not even going to deny it?" She didn't see this coming.
"Not here, not to you. You'd just know if I lied to your face."
His bald-faced blatancy is almost enough to derail her. She desperately wants to throw her very expensive wine in his face. "How can you consider yourself a loyal member of the Technocratic Union?"
"I am a loyal Technocrat," he counters.
"Are you?"
"I'm not playing this kind of stupid word game." Once again, a reminder that Warren Roth knows how to disengage, rather than be caught fighting on an opponent's home ground.
"If you're loyal, why do this?" She meets his eyes. "Do the lives of the people in New York mean nothing to you?"
"My orders supersede them. And above that, I'm loyal to the ideals. The ideals which took us from a world dominated by people like you." He pauses, deliberately. "Do you talk to people about what happened in Fairbrook?"
She ignores him. She made peace with that long ago. And in his desire to get at her, he's rushed into a trap. "Don't make me laugh. Loyal to those ideals?" She places her hands on the pressed linen tablecloth before her. "You're willing to betray your fellows. You're willing to let countless civilians die. Is it all for your rage? Do you want blood that much?"
"It's not my plan," he says, glowering at her. "It's your side who are the monsters here. Or did you not know what your allies are doing? Do you want to talk about blood?"
She refuses to rise to his bait. "This isn't about them. It's about how you're going against the self-proclaimed purpose of your own organisation, using only…"
"Did they not tell you? How they're planning to make use of the monstrous haemophagic coalescence under New York, deliberately…"
".. sophistry and technicalities. You're a little boy running away giggling because you think…"
"... spreading the contagion to the civilian population to force people to 'open their eyes'."
"... you're so clever for having found a loophole. The spirit of the Precepts apparently means nothing to you," Janice snarls, thumping the table. Her own anger is a mask, to cover her pale shock. Damn the Disciples. Damn Liam. Damn all the fucking stupid Traditionalists on her side who'd think to try to use the ancient vampiric flesh horror she's only heard about from the werewolves. But she's got Ami in here with her, and she draws on that same willow-like mindset to bend rather than break. "You're a hypocrite! You wave your Precepts of Damian around like a war-banner, but break them yourself! Do you really believe that deliberate inaction is excusable?"
"Deliberate inaction?" he roars back, bringing his fists down and sending a fork flying. It breaks something expensive behind him. "The entire Union is snarled up in deliberate inaction! How many will die in the long run if deviants and monsters are allowed to run around freely? How many will be corrupted if the wrong ideas are allowed to spread? Why do we do this? Because it's easier? Because it's less work? Because most of the New World Order and the Syndicate take sloth and call it prudence!
He sits back down, breathing deeply. He adjusts his tie. "You think you can lecture me like a naive child about the immediate cost of what will happen?" he says. face still red.
Janice takes a deep breath too. "Yes. Yes, I can. This isn't about the Technocracy, because you're willing to betray your fellows. This isn't about your vaunted 'Precepts of Damian'," she can't keep the contempt she has for that Pogrom-justifying rubbish out of her voice, "because you break their spirit and their letter. It's all about you."
"It's not about me," he grates. His face is still red. "Do you know what I've given? If it was about me, I'd take the slow, fat lazy way like the others."
"It's all about you. You're wrapped up in your pet crusade. That's everything. You were fighting your personal war before you even joined the Technocracy." Janice leans forwards. "You're not really a Technocrat. It's just an excuse. You don't believe in your organisation."
Warren snorts. "Neither do you. I talked to your Liam, witch. Oh, he hated you. He hated you city witches, and he hated you in particular. Every word you spit at me applies to you too. Oh, the context might change, but we're really not so different. And that's why you're here. You recognise it, deep down, and you hate me more for it. I said it earlier and I'll say it again. We both understand that this is a war. You understand that your side wins by letting us think we're on top. Every time a Unionist ignores your cabal because you're 'not hurting anyone' and goes after some trash vampires that those monsters can replace in a week, that's your victory working in deeper.
"So that's why you're here. Because you know you're going to lose the war of bombs and bullets, so you think you can dissuade me. You think you can make me doubt myself. It's why you're here, after all." He's smiling once again, although his face is red and his suit is straining. "It's another test for me."
He's less wrong than he should be, and Janice hates him for it. She hates him so much that when mentally Ami elbows her aside she's almost glad because it stops her saying something she didn't mean to.
"A test? Yes, Control does like tests like this," Ami says, and though her words don't show it Janice can sense the bitterness rolling off her mind. "Of course someone like you needs to be put in a position where they can be observed reacting to a reasonable, well-argued, non-violent Traditionalist who'll provide a human face to the enemy. It's to test you for breaking points."
"Your point is?" Just a slight hitch. She's not acting like she should be, and that means he's just a little bit off balance.
"They've done it before. They've done it again." Ami plays with the spoon in front of her, twirling it with more agility than Janice could manage. "You rely on turning people into numbers and figures and casualty counts so you can keep empathy off the table. Just you and your rage. I'm just another test from watchful eyes, to see how you act when someone with a human face who's too much like you comes to talk to you. Isn't that right?"
"Hmm." No comment. No comeback. Just a thoughtful look.
"Someone told you that even simulated reality deviance was acceptable to complete your goals," Ami says. "Someone told you that you could use whatever proxies you wanted." She places the spoon down. "It's all been done before. Nothing is new. So they just put the right man in the right place. Isn't that correct?"
Seamlessly Ami sides back, and a pulse of memories bleed through from her, infusing themselves into Janice's forebrain. It's another sign that the deathly divide between them is getting unhealthily thin, but Janice appreciates it. She understands what Ami was doing, now. It's just what she would have done, if she knew about
blood death betrayal Control love hatred endless service
the HELMETSHRIKE organisation.
Warren sees nothing of it. He doesn't realise that the woman before him is two-yet-one people, and one of them just laid a trap for him. He leans forwards. "A single man can act to do what must be done. Endless committees and scared bureaucrats tangle themselves up, but a single bullet can change the course of history."
No real concrete blows, I'm afraid, and he gave as good as he got. Warren Roth is not a man who fundamentally is doing this for 'logical' reasons.
The Second Phase
[ ] Pathos - "How many families will you kill, leaving only a child to weep at the graveside?"
[ ] Ethos - "Must be done? You condemn us, but you had to reach to find the maddest radicals to help your plan."
[ ] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
- Location
- in the trash
Ok, so it didn't really shake him up, but we didn't expect it to. Good enough.
I'm thinking we should play the Evidence card. "A single bullet can change the course of history" is a very Euthanatos thing to say.
I'm thinking we should play the Evidence card. "A single bullet can change the course of history" is a very Euthanatos thing to say.
Last edited:
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Our plan was to bring out the Evidence at this point, but our initial sally has not really breached his defenses, just made him angry. Do we want to adjust tactics, or proceed with the diary?
- Location
- in the trash
I know that was the plan, but I feel like using Evidence now might actually be more effective. It'll break his certainty, throw him deeply off balance and leave him vulnerable to follow up arguments about the human cost of what he's doing.
I'm not certain this is the correct approach to use, so if I can get a second opinion on my line of reasoning here that would be welcome.
Anyway, I went and snipped out all the bits where it was Ami speaking, rather than Janice.
"Are the Traditions and the Technocracy that fundamentally different?"
Right now, Roth is confident. He thinks we aren't going to find any weak points in his armour; he's absolutely certain that he's right in his beliefs. But that also makes his conviction brittle, in a way. With one good hit, it'll shatter all the way.
The Euthanatos say things like that, too, don't they? He's so certain in his beliefs, in the rationalizations and justifications he's using to excuse his actions, and he doesn't realise he's acting like the man who killed his parents.
Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Hahaha. Well done Ami. No, guys, the Euthanatos don't say things like that; that is literally a Euthanatos quote almost word-for-word from the diary. She's used logic and rational argument to back him into a corner where the only way he can come out swinging is with the exact viewpoint that the Euthanatos who murdered his parents used. Now is the perfect time to drop the Evidence, while he's angry and off-balance and has cast aside logic because he was losing that fight (and can thus no longer use it as a defence).
[X] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
[X] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
- Location
- in the trash
[X] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book.
"The number of an agent of Fate is one. He is not sullied by doubt or slowed by debate. If his motives are pure, his cause righteous and his karma balanced, his choices will bring salvation."
(Thank you @Aleph)
Assuming that Roth doesn't just snap completely and kill us, we should probably then move on to reframing the issue as one of moderates vs extremists, rather than Technocracy vs Traditions. What if the one who killed his parents was an NWO operative, instead of a Euthanatos killer? He can't say that the Technocracy would never do such a thing.
And then we need to give Roth a way out. He was blinded by his rage, but Control exploited that hatred of his to further their own ends. Give him something besides himself to direct all that hate at.
"The number of an agent of Fate is one. He is not sullied by doubt or slowed by debate. If his motives are pure, his cause righteous and his karma balanced, his choices will bring salvation."
(Thank you @Aleph)
Assuming that Roth doesn't just snap completely and kill us, we should probably then move on to reframing the issue as one of moderates vs extremists, rather than Technocracy vs Traditions. What if the one who killed his parents was an NWO operative, instead of a Euthanatos killer? He can't say that the Technocracy would never do such a thing.
And then we need to give Roth a way out. He was blinded by his rage, but Control exploited that hatred of his to further their own ends. Give him something besides himself to direct all that hate at.
I mean, making our opponents angry has had a pretty sterling record so far in this quest.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
[X] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
Alright, then, let's blow his mind.
Alright, then, let's blow his mind.
[X] Evidence - Respond with an ironic quote from the book
- Location
- Brazil
So, I'm currently reading through the old SB page, but there's something driving me nuts: where can I see the actual stats and skills, besides the magical ability and WP and such, of the characters?
Two: If I'm reading this right, 1 sux is enough to qualify as a "successful action", and Dificiltuy is a positive number as it works by raising the DC? And ones negate sux?
Three: How much magic is lots of magic? Some characters seem to be way more impressive with a bunch of Spheres at 3-4 but don't get mentioned as particularly powerful.
Do dots beyond 5 add anything special? Auto-sux? Otherwise I'm not seeing the huge difference one die makes compared to a fellow rolling (if I'm understanding this correctly) Arete 6 + Force 3 instead of Arete 5 + Force 3, but the lore seems to indicate so.
And spoil me: Did we keep the Singun?
Two: If I'm reading this right, 1 sux is enough to qualify as a "successful action", and Dificiltuy is a positive number as it works by raising the DC? And ones negate sux?
Three: How much magic is lots of magic? Some characters seem to be way more impressive with a bunch of Spheres at 3-4 but don't get mentioned as particularly powerful.
Do dots beyond 5 add anything special? Auto-sux? Otherwise I'm not seeing the huge difference one die makes compared to a fellow rolling (if I'm understanding this correctly) Arete 6 + Force 3 instead of Arete 5 + Force 3, but the lore seems to indicate so.
And spoil me: Did we keep the Singun?
- Location
- in the trash
You can't.
It depends on whether you're talking about mundane skills and abilities, spheres, or Arete.
Nope. Also that was a long, long time ago.
Quantumboost
Now with 50% more dots in Dimensional Science
- Location
- Ensemble Space
If you mean Rose, her description was written before she went and did a bunch of bullshit things and became a multi-Adept. Back then, her only Sphere at 3 was Dimensional Science. Now, she's... considerably more powerful as a Mage. As well as still being a terrifying combat monster with just her augmentations.
Generally, having Arete above 3, at least one Adept-level Sphere, and a smattering of other Spheres at 2-3 is a good indicator of being fairly potent, and having multiple Adept-or-higher-level Spheres means that they're someone to be wary of magically. Abilities/Attributes/Willpower/PE reserves still contribute quite a bit, of course.
Dots in Arete beyond 5 allow you to use foci you otherwise couldn't with some number of your Spheres. What this means is that if, say, Henriette reached Arete 6 and took Forces as free focus, she could light people on fire by calling upon Agni or using Hadoken to turn her ki into a firebolt or infusing them with phlogiston or pointing a wand at them and saying "incendio" - despite none of those being something in line with her Iterator/gitgud paradigm. And if she lit them on fire by launching micromissiles at them, she gets a difficulty reduction for doing so due to using a focus she could use otherwise. Arete 7 lets you do that with three Spheres, 8 with 5, 9 with 7, and at Arete 10 you can just do that with anything.
There are also flavor things involving understanding the true horrific nature of reality which are better portrayed in the Quest itself.
Archspheres, Spheres above 5, lock you out of Ascension and give you weird capabilities, since they're Sphere dots and that gives you extra capabilities even before breaking the 5-dot ceiling.
Abilities and Attributes above 5 are just extra dice. Which is still really good to have, because extra dice are useful.
- Location
- Cyberpunk capital of the world
So theoretically speaking, the mage closest to ascension is one with Arete 10 and 5 dot mastery in all nine spheres?
Sounds rather... unreachable.
- Location
- Library
Ascenction is purely narrative concept, so no. The mage closest to ascension is the one deemed to be closest to ascension by ST
- Location
- Brazil
Not one enterprising player complied it from rolls and stuff?
I ask because I'm at the point where we recruit Serafina, and it seems she is "like your protsgonist but beer in every way", so I'm actually digging to see what fifty years of superspy work gets on in terms of skills.
I'm reading the SB thread.
But that's a pity.
At the point I am, it just seemed inconsistent what people went "man this is some stronk magery".
Then again, wei day enough, that SB thread doesn't have the usual ton of commentary and discussion and theorycrafting I'm used to seeing in big quests.
Imrix
Periodically Malevolent QM
They get you "fifty years of superspy" as a magic focus.
- Location
- Brazil
... Ok? What does that help as opposed to the virtually always present focus everyone else uses? From what I read, those are essentially spell component pouches, just assume you have the bat guanamo you need.
Is it like Arete 6+ where you can also add a focus to reduce difificulty?
Imrix
Periodically Malevolent QM
No, it just means she casts spells because [fifty years of superspy], in a paradigm of [fifty years of superspy].
This isn't a very mechanics-focused quest, in my experience.