DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest
- Thread starter Made in Heaven
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Bloomington, IN
I mean, I'd be up for it. We whine and complain about not accomplishing anything and then promptly reject a golden opportunity to expand and increase our power and influence.
Alternately we accidentally puppet olympia by putting someone who needs us in charge aka winston
- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[jk] Replace Winston with Muppet look alike
KitRougard
Blatant furry. Deal with it.
- Location
- wherever I feel like~
- Pronouns
- He/She
[JK] Go full-subversive - Build Sinatron a Winston-lookalike body and help him plan the replacement-assassination.
- Location
- Pennsylvania
Vote closed!
weredrago2
"Cowabunga, Shadow the Hedgehog..."
- Location
- Florida
That was a close one.
Interlude: Storms on the Horizon
- Location
- Pennsylvania
You weren't really sure what to expect when stepping off of your plane to Zootopia. The city in the northeast was one of the largest anthro populations on the planet, formerly famous for tourism the world over, home to a wonderful amalgamation of culture and nightlife alike… so why did everything look so dismal?
A gray fog hung over the skyscrapers like a miasma, dully reflecting off of the glass spires. You could just chalk that up to the weather of the region, but it seemed to portend what awaited you once your drive started. The limo was nice enough you suppose, you've never really ridden in limos before, but most of your focus wasn't on the car- it was on the city outside.
It started small at first, with the road containing a few potholes, construction projects closing off several major routes that never seemed to be worked on, but more than that it was the feeling that you got when riding through the streets. Far from being a bustling nerve center of culture, the people walked to their destinations with their heads down, conversations seldom happening except between those that were waiting at food carts. The variety up here wasn't as exotic as you were predicting, aside from some occasional local brands selling ice cream there were the ever-present Dr Carver's Nuts and carts hawking delicacies made from synthetic plant-based proteins. The walls of buildings were marred in graffiti- not an unusual occurrence, you suppose (there are still parts of Doofania that remain graffitied despite your Normbots' best efforts) but it's not even like you were in one of the downtrodden sections of town! This was supposed to be the part with all the skyscrapers, the one to entice visitors with the best the city had to offer!
Off in the distance you could see snow falling sporadically under a massive grey thunderhead, lightning occasionally flickering across the clouds. That snow turned to rain over the course of a few minutes, coursing down in sheets that drifted onto your ride. The driver flicked the wipers on and continued undisturbed.
"Taking in the sights, Dr. Doofenshmirtz?" His words catch you off guard, and you're not sure what to say at first.
"Uhhhh, yeah, I guess? It's my first time in Zootopia, so I'm still getting used to, you know, everything."
"Yeah, that's our city." The moose chuckles. "It's a beautiful place. We get comers from all over."
"Oh, you get a lot of tourists?" You ask.
"Boooy, do we." the moose replies cheerfully, one arm splayed over the armrest. "We get visitors from Cape Suzette to Carnuvia. A'course, not as many recently."
"How… come?" you ask, not quite able to put your finger on the answer. It's obvious that something happened but you're not sure what.
"Why, the feral issue, a'course! Don't tell me the news don't make it all the way to Utah. Predators all over the city going savage, reverting to their base natures. Nasty stuff. Then it turns out the mayor was coverin' it all up, locking them away! Not the current mayor, a'course, not Bellwether. I mean, look at 'er. No, we threw ol' Lionheart out when we heard the news."
You listen in an attempt to get to know whatever's going on here a bit better. Something about this makes you feel… uncomfortable, but like the city itself, you find yourself unable to say why. You try to ignore the faint nausea and focus.
"Wasn't that surprised myself, Lionheart was always a… aggressive sorta leader. No big shock he ended up goin' a bit cuckoo himself. Though, honestly, I can't even blame him that much. Feels like every week there's a new feral case somewhere in the city. Gotta do somethin' with 'em."
"Uhhhh… what is that 'something?'" You can't help but feel like you're missing an awful lot of context. It doesn't do anything to ease your nerves.
The moose turns for a second to regard you. "Look. Your nextdoor neighbor wakes up one day and wants to eat your face off, whaddya think's gotta be done with 'em? Now you be careful around here. Now most predators are fine folk, nothin' wrong with 'em, but instincts are strong things. You can't be too careful."
Outside the window, on the street, a strikingly crimson fox with an eyepatch snatched an ice cream cone from a passing fox child. The smaller fennec stared after her for a moment, then growled in a much lower register than you were expecting.
"Hey! I actually paid for that!"
The fox flicks the ice cream into a nearby trash can and bites down on the cone.
"Oh, what the hell!?!"
It's a funny, weird little occurrence. But somehow you're not sure how you feel about it.
==
It's a nice change of pace, she thought.
She skipped into an alleyway, her pursuer hurling complaints at her back. A twitch and a flicker, and the fennec fox was left chasing a shadow just long enough for her to walk past him, into the crowd, and out again. Idly, she adjusted the eyepatch, switching it over to the other eye.
She made her way down to Flock Street, past the apartment building, and down the stairs to the floor under the flower shop. Ducked under the rack of antlers over the doorway. The smell of cigarettes mixed with alcohol and sweat hit her. As usual, she ignored it.
Heads turned as she skipped in, glares bouncing off of her as the regulars recognized the face she wore.
The ones she's playing around with for the last few months perked up at her arrival. The anchors of the little kyōgen play life she's built over the past little while. A group of teenagers. A shrew, a vulture, and a leopard.
They'd been pulled in one by one as she progressed. The vulture had been first, the one to greet her. The others had come after, dragging in their disaffection after them. It was easy, knowing what to say.
Why, they even think they're her friends. And in a way, they are. But what a shame that the one they know will disappear into the mist when she tires of them. It's a liberation, really. A face she doesn't have to care for.
Still, it's nice to be out of her own head. To be someone else, not have to worry about where to go when she burns it down. If, she supposes. Maybe she won't, this time; she hasn't decided.
The leopard waved her over. "Hey Red! You got ice cream without us?"
Ah. She forgot to finish the cone, she'd held the empty thing in hand all the way here. She smirked. "If you want some, buy your own."
The leopard rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, one of these days." She can't, of course. Her mother works double shifts just to keep their rundown apartment off Prairie Road.
She tilted her smile a bit, and plucked a five from one of the wallets in her jacket, sliding it across the table…only to yank it around when the leopard made a grab for it.
"You snipe!" The leopard said, trying to sound playful. The same as the last few times. But the hint of hurt and desperation was there all the same. The game began regardless, the leopard swiped at her as she danced back and forth across the table.
"Come on, let her have it." The shrew said, padding his way across the countertop with what he probably thought was a stern look. "We're a family around here." Parroting his father, and falling short.
"You're no fun." She stuck out her tongue at the fools who called her friend. She tossed the bill to the leopard, though.
"And give me a tenner while you're at it!" The vulture joked. He would take the money in a heartbeat if she offered it. His father owned a shipping yard in Cape Suzette. He thought none of them knew.
She spun around to the bartender, tossing the rest of the wallet's contents onto the counter. "A round for everyone at our table. The usual." A cheer went up behind her, even as the rest of the patrons glared. The anteater behind the counter shrank back a bit at the sound, but didn't card her. He'd gotten quieter as the months had worn on. Looked less at who came in. But he picked up the bottles nonetheless.
The sound of conversation, alternately hushed or boisterous as was common in bars the world over, filled the smoky room. It had started out as a mom and pop affair, but had gradually grown its patronage from across the city in keeping with its reputation. The locals didn't tend to visit it anymore. This was no place for the innocent, especially not these children. It didn't matter though, the discrepancy would be rectified soon enough. Empty vessels were filled, one way or another.
"So." The leopard ventured as she stuffed the money into her faded jeans. "How've you guys' day been?"
"Oh, not going to talk about yourself?" She poked the leopard teasingly in the side as the first of the drinks clinked onto the table. The vulture's.
The leopard flushed at the physical contact, pushing her off. "You know where I work at. Nothing exciting happens at a Nuts cart. No matter how hard I want it to..." She grumbled that last part.
"You've got the job, at least." The shrew tried to reassure her as he picked at his fried crickets. "I'd ask my dad if he could help, but he's…not in a good mood right now."
"Still on your case about the tattoo?" The vulture asked through a glug of brandy.
The shrew shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, he went on this whole rant about being 'a proper American'. I told him that's what we're doing!"
"I mean, I don't see what's so good about it. What has America ever done for us, right? You ask me, it's Zootopia against the world, we were doing fine until that sheep came in." The leopard took a swig of cheap beer from her glass. "Mayor Lionheart wouldn't have let things get this bad."
The vulture leaned back in his seat as he polished off his drink. "I mean, it's still a country right? We've got the biggest guns, so we rule the world and stuff. Might makes right."
"Hey Red, what do you think? You never seem to say much about this kind of stuff."
Ah. "Doesn't really matter to me." she drawled.
The leopard rolled her eyes at that. "Wish I could be as carefree as you are."
She shrugged. Anything she was about to say in response was cut off as a hush fell over the bar. The doorframe was filled by the imposing figure of a bird of prey, silhouetted against the light coming from behind. The cape he was wearing made him seem larger than life, the high collar only accentuating the cyclopean glare.
Silence filled the bar for a long few moments before the falcon chuckled in what was an attempt to be disarming, the noise sounding like the rumble of machinery. Life returned to the bar as if everyone drew another breath at the same time, dozens of small conversations resuming after a brief lull.
"Bartender!" he demanded in a thick German accent, his metal-tipped talons clinking on the hardwood floor. "Double vodka. Neat!"
Very loud, that one.
The bartender, for his part, flinched slightly and pulled out a tumbler from the shelf behind him for the bird, leaving her Soju sitting woefully on his workspace as he mixed the bird's demand. She's being skipped.
That won't do.
"Excuse me." She leaned over, the chair creaking underneath her as it tipped back, and tapped the countertop. "My drink, please."
The bird stopped, feathertips a few inches away from the glass. A single gimlet eye stared at her appraisingly.
The three teens were seemingly frozen in place, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Very quietly, the bartender filled her glass.
"Thank you." She fished out a few coins for his troubles, and turned back to her compatriots.
Behind her, the falcon's complexion took on a very interesting look of rage, and he pushed down, forcibly straightening her chair with a clunk and pitching her forward just enough for her drink to spill.
She looked back, meeting his glare eyepatch to eyepatch.
"Yes?" Was this one important or something? Up close, the eagle medal on his chest looked absurd.
"I have not seen you around before." he drawled, his tone right on the edge of anger.
She blinked. "Well, I have."
"Oh? And what brings you to Zootopia?"
"The chaos," she responds without missing a beat.
She can practically see the gears turning in his head. The rage grinding against the low cunning, slowly being pushed down by opportunism. "Ah heh heh heh! Asserting your place on the food chain, hmm?"
He was waiting for her to say something so he could cut her off. Instead, the beat passed, and he continued on before another smaller, fatter falcon reached up and whispered something to him.
"Oh? Responsible for the sabotage in Savannah Central last week? Two stores were burnt to the ground and the desertification systems have been damaged."
She stared insouciantly at him. Did he really expect her to tell him? "I haven't been around there all day."
"Hmm." he said, not disapprovingly. "Very well! I'll inquire no further. We all have our secrets, ey?" The falcon stalked back to the bar and drained his glass in one gulp. Back to brooding over the great eternal war of civilization against…who was it again? Someone or other.
As Von Talon stalked away, it occurred to her she was missing something.
"I really don't know how you do that. Like, that's Von freaking Talon."
Should she ask?
"I thought he was gonna kill you!"
No, there's no point; she'd just forget it tomorrow regardless. But that's what makes it fun, isn't it?
"Still, you should show him some more respect. He's fighting for us!"
The shrew, the leopard, the vulture. She did enjoy playing with them.
Perhaps she'd even remember their names, by the end.
==
Fennec let out a low growl as he stalked down the street, only for a passing beaver to cringe away fearfully. He closed his eyes in frustration. The hell was up with that chick?! People were just walking down the street and throwing away other people's food now?! Had the 'preds' finally decided that 'prey animal' just meant anyone shorter than them?
He let himself fume for a few more moments before he released the tension with a sigh.
Of course it had to have been another fox. Just for a little extra gut punch.
On paper, the situation sounded so absurd that it was almost hilarious. Had it happened to someone else, some other time, he'd probably be laughing in their face. Now, though, it felt like just another reminder of what this city had turned into. The day his quiet little hustle got torn apart, and the rest of the city followed.
He looked up at the graying towers and biodomes around him, wondering who was supposed to be keeping them clean. He remembered them being shinier.
Unsurprisingly, he thought, it had all started the day the cop showed up.
==
"Oh! Mr. Doofenshmirtz! Thank you so much for coming!"
Your first impression of Mayor Bellwether reminds you of the fairy tales story books that were occasionally thrown at your head as a child. An almost sickeningly cute white sheep, one that barely surpasses your gangly knee in height. She's dressed in a black suit pressed to perfection and without a speck of lint to be seen, somehow. Her wool is snowy white, cut into something like a bun or a pompadour atop her fuzzy head. She beams at you with an enormous smile dripping with enthusiasm.
"Oh, hello there!" You say, bending down in order to shake the woman's hand. "Well, it's not often I get dinner invitations from major political figures. Or in general. So of course I just had to come!"
"Well!" She says with a breathy enthusiasm that would remind you of a doting aunt if you'd ever had one. "It's always an honor to have an honorary predator like yourself making the trip to our city. I want to do whatever I can to further the cause of harmony. Raised by ocelots! And so far away from South America too. Truly inspiring."
"It's a, uh… nice city you have here." you say slightly awkwardly, not wanting to tell her that the place has seen better days.
"That's very kind of you to say, but I think we both know that's a liiiiiiitle off the mark." She says, giving you a gentle grimace. "We've got blizzards in Savannah Square and Tundra Town is melting into a flood in Little Rodentia. Unfortunately, due to some recent… brain drain… our ability to maintain our own climate technology is failing. We simply don't have the educated workforce anymore to manage it ourselves. Zootopia's seeing a lot of problems right now, and I think that you're one of the best people to help us."
You're about to ask what she means when she grabs you by the hand, an action only made possible by your pronounced slouch, and tugs you insistently forward. "Ohhh, but enough about my infrastructure woes for now! We're here for dinner and you probably haven't eaten since you stepped off your plane. Let's get dinner first, and then we can talk business!"
Privately, you're grateful. Without Roger or Mirage to back you up, you're not all that great at big time negotiation. But that's what your bean counters back home are for! All you have to do right now is be your endearingly charming self, eat a polite dinner, and get the basics of the job on paper. As Mirage told you several times, you don't have to give an answer on the same day.
Bellwether leads you down the polished floors of city hall, polished to a mirror shine that reflects your own visage back at you. She looks astonishingly tiny against the antique furniture and pictures lining the walls. Framed portraits of important officials, all of them different species. Lions, tigers, and bears stare balefully down at you as you pass, their gazes as cold as the air conditioning as it rattles through the leaves of the artificial plants. Eventually the sheep comes to a stop in front of a pair of carved oaken doors, pushing one open with several seconds of concerted, groaning effort from her minuscule frame. The lacquered wood groans gently as it slowly pulls itself over the plush carpet underneath.
"I should really get those things balanced…" She says offhandedly, in an attempt to play off the obvious exhaustion.
You're tempted to try and calculate how she could do that with so little leverage, but you're distracted when you walk into an opulent conference room. The drab trappings of a generic city office are nowhere to be seen, dressed up instead with landscape paintings, a fine wooden table, and a rich plush rug. You can't help but feel a sense of impending doom as you look upon the multiple place settings with a terrifying number of knives and forks. You look out the window and see a storm front building over what you thought was supposed to be Sahara Square. Your phone dings with a weather warning for mudslides.
"Just take a seat anywhere, it's fine!" Bellwether insists as she hops up onto a tiny chair set on top of a much larger chair at the head of the table. "And our chef will take care of everything you could ever want." She nods at the dog in a chef's hat waiting next to the door.
Awkwardly, you take a seat and politely pick at your salad as Bellwether begins to talk. And talk. And talk. She yammers on and on through the appetizers, keeps droning through the soup and the main course, and continues her diatribe all the way through coffee and dessert. The woman, while quite pleasant, is pretty chatty. She goes on about Zootopia's history, its districts, its people, and its industries, painting a long and noble history, probably for some sort of complicated diplomacy reason you're too science-y to understand. You actually do manage to get words in edgewise here and there, but the woman talks like she's expecting to be interrupted every other second. For the most part you're content to just sit and let her talk. The food you're given is very good, and you really wouldn't notice that it's all plant-based if the chef wasn't proud of pointing it out. Eventually, over a pair of very nice tiramisu made with imported chocolate, she gets to the point.
"So, it's like this. Zootopia lives or dies on its climate system. We have animals from almost every biome in the world here, living and working in the same space. That diversity is what makes our city great! But it can also be a weakness. Every district needs its biome to remain comfortable for the people living there. We need regular maintenance on our climate systems to make sure they stay functioning. They're a marvel of engineering, but no machine can keep working without its engine grease. I need someone with a degree of expertise in large-scale climatoforming. Unfortunately there's… basically no one on the market with that sort of knowledge. Magma Industries is the closest, and they went exclusive months ago. So, next best thiiing: you! I know that Mendel-Gruman had considerable experience with more small-scale environmental engineering prior to your purchase, and if I'm not wrong, you've been sitting on some more advanced technology in the same field. I don't want to presume, Doctor, but given your role in the arrest of, ahem, Emperor Stanley, I imagine some of his technology may have found its way into your hands?"
"Uh, just a second." You say, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a set of cue cards. You flip through them for a moment before settling on one with an "aha!
"Ahem. 'I can neither confirm or deny our involvement.'" You reply with a satisfied smile.
"Uh- right." Bellwether says after a moment. "Well, I can understand trade secrets. And I think I can sweeten the deal with a few of my own. Now, you have to understand Doctor, as an elected official, I do have a budget to keep to. I can't exactly move heaven and earth to earn you the sort of enormous returns I'm sure your subsidiaries grant you."
"Probably." You reply happily.
"But, I think I do have something you might be interested in: That very technology." she says, spreading her hands wide.
You pause with your fork halfway to your mouth. "Could you ah… explain?"
"I'm willing to give you full rights to Zootopian climate technology, Doctor." Bellwether replies. "No strings. It's not doing us any good right now. All I ask is that you develop your own terraforming technology; if you haven't yet. Then, in return for a continued contract to maintain Zootopian infrastructure, I can provide you everything we know. Blueprints, theory, top to bottom. I'm privatizing the whole shebang. Of course, I will pay you enough to make a profit, after expenses. And it would be such a boon to our city! I'm sure the goodwill of the whole state will remember that it's Doofenshmirtz-" her smile falters, very slightly, but her voice redoubles enthusiasm to make up for it- "Evil Incorporated that did it for them."
==
Overall, that dinner went… well? You mean, the third course was a little disappointing, their potato soup was pretty bland, but overall you think that you might have made some real progress here! Sure, the government doesn't like you too much, but you're more than happy to take their money! And build something for someone else too, you guess, much as you wish it were true you can't just get money for nothing.
You decide to walk down the streets for a bit, trying to relax after your meal and kill time before your hotel check-in. Despite the majority of the population being anthros, you can see a couple humans here and there, most minding their own business, some milling about the street corners or walking into shops. Zootopia is a pretty weird place in all, and you're not quite sure what to make of-
Your thoughts are cut off as a falcon nearly as tall as you are alights on a nearby bench with a loud chunk, fixing you with a steely gaze. The predatory bird is thin and wiry, decked out in a bizarre outfit consisting of a lot of leather and shiny medals, some of which look like tiny skulls. Just as you're about to say something he cuts you off when he opens his beak.
"Doktor Doofenshmirtz." he begins in an accent so thickly German that part of you is convinced he's putting it on. You get the sense that he is attempting to loom, but is not quite pulling it off. "I am Günstling, and I haff been asked to deliver a message for you from General Von Talon himself."
"Uhhhh…" you begin, unsure of what to say. Creepy falcons usually didn't drop out of the air and try to talk to you apropos of nothing!
"Do not fall for ze sheep's makinations! She puts on ze kindly face but her kindness is ingenuine. She seeks nothingk more than ze subjugation of all predator-kind! There is nothing 'honorary' about your status as a predator- humans are ze most fearsome predator alive! You are meat eaters, through and through."
You notice that a lot of people have started backing off, giving way to a ring of anthros in what you have to call military…what was the term Vanessa used? Cosplay, that's it. Military cosplay. They're kind of dressed like the bird in front of you.
"Whoa, whoa, wait a second. First off, she was really nice! And second, all she wanted to do was get me to repair those climate systems. What's the problem with that, huh?"
"Nothingk! Repair ze climate control. The volk vill appreciate a comfortable living space. But do not be tricked by ze mayor! No matter what she might say she holds a silent knife to your throat and vill betray you at ze first-"
It clicks together.
"Hey, wait a minute! I recognize your demeanor! You're a Nazi!"
"Vhat?!" The falcon actually sounds affronted. "Ve are not Nazis! Ve are entirely unaffiliated vith zer movement!"
Someone sniggers. The falcon glares around, trying to pinpoint the culprit, but you have his number now, and you're not going to let him being distracted distract you from your primary distraction!
"Ohhhh no", you declare, "After that one dream I had with the guy with the red face I know how to recognize Nazis. You know, it was really weird, he said he had a sister who married Drusselsteinian and now she was dead to him, which I mean fair, but also that's me agreeing with a dream-Nazi. Eugh."
"Kriegsfalken eez only koncerned with ze well-being of predators everywhere, and ze inzidious efforts of ze government to oppress and ostracize zem! Our people once stood at ze top of the food chain, to be reduced to zis oppression is far, far beneas us!"
"Uh… huh." You reply, skeptically.
Behind him, one of the people in uniform, that fox from earlier, quietly slips his wallet out of his jacket as he goes on about how totally not a Nazi he is. Strangely, no one else seems to notice. You consider warning him, but on second thought you don't really like him that much.
The fox winks at you before slipping back into the crowd, a shimmer trailing in their wake.
Huh.
"Ze point. Doktor Doofenshmirtz," Oh right, the guy's still talking. "Is zat you should take care who you konsider a friend in Zootopia! And beware of prey animals in high places." Man, you sure wish you didn't have to talk to him.
Oh wait, you don't.
You press a button on your wristwatch, and your power armor pops out from your belt, unfolding in a cheerful take-that to the laws of physics into a three meter tall exoskeleton.
"I'm going to walk away now!" you insist.
"You could always do zat!" The falcon tried to sound declarative as you walked away, but there was a lilt of confusion to it.
"Okay yeah bye." You say, trying to sound less confused than you are. It seems like Zootopia has problems. They're not your problems, though. Unless you change that.
===
You've met with the mayor of Zootopia, Dawn Bellwether! She seems like a really friendly sheep who offered to pay you for doing some repair work in her city, and boy, does the place really need it. Everyone you talked to seemed to like her, except that weird Nazi falcon, but what does he know, right?
Kriegsfalken has publicly infiltrated Zootopia and has caused the tensions in the area to rise dramatically! Infiltration DCs increased by 20, Collaboration DC increased by 10. (This is partially Kitsune's fault.)
Bellwether has offered a Collaboration Action: Stewardship
Restore Zootopian Climate Systems
DC 125 (increased by Kitsune)
Special Requirement: Must attempt research of Greco-Roman Terraforming in the same turn.
The massive climate systems that control the various divisions of Zootopia are beginning to break down. They need to be mended, and Bellwether has decided you're the ocelot for the job.
Outcome: Gain +1 Income from Zootopia, slight public opinion increase, moderate Zootopian opinion increase, gain access to Zootopian Climate Technology (allows for medium-scale active alteration of outdoor climates at a high- but not impossible- energy cost.). Zootopian Climate systems are repaired and will be maintained by DEI for the foreseeable future.
Should DEI decline, Zootopian opinion will decrease. The general public will not care much about this.
Accept the collaboration?
[ ] Yes
[ ] No
If the collaboration is accepted, you will be expected to attempt the relevant actions next turn. Failing to do so will be seen as a breach of contract and will result in severe penalties in Funds and opinion, much as anyone else would receive if they breached one of your contracts.
There is a 12-hour moratorium on voting.
Infiltrate Kriegsfalken national action unlocked.
'Red' has been charged with and escaped arrest for jaywalking, two counts of attempted arson, six counts of destruction of private property, one count of sabotaging government infrastructure, four counts of arson, and thirteen counts of harassment.
A gray fog hung over the skyscrapers like a miasma, dully reflecting off of the glass spires. You could just chalk that up to the weather of the region, but it seemed to portend what awaited you once your drive started. The limo was nice enough you suppose, you've never really ridden in limos before, but most of your focus wasn't on the car- it was on the city outside.
It started small at first, with the road containing a few potholes, construction projects closing off several major routes that never seemed to be worked on, but more than that it was the feeling that you got when riding through the streets. Far from being a bustling nerve center of culture, the people walked to their destinations with their heads down, conversations seldom happening except between those that were waiting at food carts. The variety up here wasn't as exotic as you were predicting, aside from some occasional local brands selling ice cream there were the ever-present Dr Carver's Nuts and carts hawking delicacies made from synthetic plant-based proteins. The walls of buildings were marred in graffiti- not an unusual occurrence, you suppose (there are still parts of Doofania that remain graffitied despite your Normbots' best efforts) but it's not even like you were in one of the downtrodden sections of town! This was supposed to be the part with all the skyscrapers, the one to entice visitors with the best the city had to offer!
Off in the distance you could see snow falling sporadically under a massive grey thunderhead, lightning occasionally flickering across the clouds. That snow turned to rain over the course of a few minutes, coursing down in sheets that drifted onto your ride. The driver flicked the wipers on and continued undisturbed.
"Taking in the sights, Dr. Doofenshmirtz?" His words catch you off guard, and you're not sure what to say at first.
"Uhhhh, yeah, I guess? It's my first time in Zootopia, so I'm still getting used to, you know, everything."
"Yeah, that's our city." The moose chuckles. "It's a beautiful place. We get comers from all over."
"Oh, you get a lot of tourists?" You ask.
"Boooy, do we." the moose replies cheerfully, one arm splayed over the armrest. "We get visitors from Cape Suzette to Carnuvia. A'course, not as many recently."
"How… come?" you ask, not quite able to put your finger on the answer. It's obvious that something happened but you're not sure what.
"Why, the feral issue, a'course! Don't tell me the news don't make it all the way to Utah. Predators all over the city going savage, reverting to their base natures. Nasty stuff. Then it turns out the mayor was coverin' it all up, locking them away! Not the current mayor, a'course, not Bellwether. I mean, look at 'er. No, we threw ol' Lionheart out when we heard the news."
You listen in an attempt to get to know whatever's going on here a bit better. Something about this makes you feel… uncomfortable, but like the city itself, you find yourself unable to say why. You try to ignore the faint nausea and focus.
"Wasn't that surprised myself, Lionheart was always a… aggressive sorta leader. No big shock he ended up goin' a bit cuckoo himself. Though, honestly, I can't even blame him that much. Feels like every week there's a new feral case somewhere in the city. Gotta do somethin' with 'em."
"Uhhhh… what is that 'something?'" You can't help but feel like you're missing an awful lot of context. It doesn't do anything to ease your nerves.
The moose turns for a second to regard you. "Look. Your nextdoor neighbor wakes up one day and wants to eat your face off, whaddya think's gotta be done with 'em? Now you be careful around here. Now most predators are fine folk, nothin' wrong with 'em, but instincts are strong things. You can't be too careful."
Outside the window, on the street, a strikingly crimson fox with an eyepatch snatched an ice cream cone from a passing fox child. The smaller fennec stared after her for a moment, then growled in a much lower register than you were expecting.
"Hey! I actually paid for that!"
The fox flicks the ice cream into a nearby trash can and bites down on the cone.
"Oh, what the hell!?!"
It's a funny, weird little occurrence. But somehow you're not sure how you feel about it.
==
It's a nice change of pace, she thought.
She skipped into an alleyway, her pursuer hurling complaints at her back. A twitch and a flicker, and the fennec fox was left chasing a shadow just long enough for her to walk past him, into the crowd, and out again. Idly, she adjusted the eyepatch, switching it over to the other eye.
She made her way down to Flock Street, past the apartment building, and down the stairs to the floor under the flower shop. Ducked under the rack of antlers over the doorway. The smell of cigarettes mixed with alcohol and sweat hit her. As usual, she ignored it.
Heads turned as she skipped in, glares bouncing off of her as the regulars recognized the face she wore.
The ones she's playing around with for the last few months perked up at her arrival. The anchors of the little kyōgen play life she's built over the past little while. A group of teenagers. A shrew, a vulture, and a leopard.
They'd been pulled in one by one as she progressed. The vulture had been first, the one to greet her. The others had come after, dragging in their disaffection after them. It was easy, knowing what to say.
Why, they even think they're her friends. And in a way, they are. But what a shame that the one they know will disappear into the mist when she tires of them. It's a liberation, really. A face she doesn't have to care for.
Still, it's nice to be out of her own head. To be someone else, not have to worry about where to go when she burns it down. If, she supposes. Maybe she won't, this time; she hasn't decided.
The leopard waved her over. "Hey Red! You got ice cream without us?"
Ah. She forgot to finish the cone, she'd held the empty thing in hand all the way here. She smirked. "If you want some, buy your own."
The leopard rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, one of these days." She can't, of course. Her mother works double shifts just to keep their rundown apartment off Prairie Road.
She tilted her smile a bit, and plucked a five from one of the wallets in her jacket, sliding it across the table…only to yank it around when the leopard made a grab for it.
"You snipe!" The leopard said, trying to sound playful. The same as the last few times. But the hint of hurt and desperation was there all the same. The game began regardless, the leopard swiped at her as she danced back and forth across the table.
"Come on, let her have it." The shrew said, padding his way across the countertop with what he probably thought was a stern look. "We're a family around here." Parroting his father, and falling short.
"You're no fun." She stuck out her tongue at the fools who called her friend. She tossed the bill to the leopard, though.
"And give me a tenner while you're at it!" The vulture joked. He would take the money in a heartbeat if she offered it. His father owned a shipping yard in Cape Suzette. He thought none of them knew.
She spun around to the bartender, tossing the rest of the wallet's contents onto the counter. "A round for everyone at our table. The usual." A cheer went up behind her, even as the rest of the patrons glared. The anteater behind the counter shrank back a bit at the sound, but didn't card her. He'd gotten quieter as the months had worn on. Looked less at who came in. But he picked up the bottles nonetheless.
The sound of conversation, alternately hushed or boisterous as was common in bars the world over, filled the smoky room. It had started out as a mom and pop affair, but had gradually grown its patronage from across the city in keeping with its reputation. The locals didn't tend to visit it anymore. This was no place for the innocent, especially not these children. It didn't matter though, the discrepancy would be rectified soon enough. Empty vessels were filled, one way or another.
"So." The leopard ventured as she stuffed the money into her faded jeans. "How've you guys' day been?"
"Oh, not going to talk about yourself?" She poked the leopard teasingly in the side as the first of the drinks clinked onto the table. The vulture's.
The leopard flushed at the physical contact, pushing her off. "You know where I work at. Nothing exciting happens at a Nuts cart. No matter how hard I want it to..." She grumbled that last part.
"You've got the job, at least." The shrew tried to reassure her as he picked at his fried crickets. "I'd ask my dad if he could help, but he's…not in a good mood right now."
"Still on your case about the tattoo?" The vulture asked through a glug of brandy.
The shrew shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, he went on this whole rant about being 'a proper American'. I told him that's what we're doing!"
"I mean, I don't see what's so good about it. What has America ever done for us, right? You ask me, it's Zootopia against the world, we were doing fine until that sheep came in." The leopard took a swig of cheap beer from her glass. "Mayor Lionheart wouldn't have let things get this bad."
The vulture leaned back in his seat as he polished off his drink. "I mean, it's still a country right? We've got the biggest guns, so we rule the world and stuff. Might makes right."
"Hey Red, what do you think? You never seem to say much about this kind of stuff."
Ah. "Doesn't really matter to me." she drawled.
The leopard rolled her eyes at that. "Wish I could be as carefree as you are."
She shrugged. Anything she was about to say in response was cut off as a hush fell over the bar. The doorframe was filled by the imposing figure of a bird of prey, silhouetted against the light coming from behind. The cape he was wearing made him seem larger than life, the high collar only accentuating the cyclopean glare.
Silence filled the bar for a long few moments before the falcon chuckled in what was an attempt to be disarming, the noise sounding like the rumble of machinery. Life returned to the bar as if everyone drew another breath at the same time, dozens of small conversations resuming after a brief lull.
"Bartender!" he demanded in a thick German accent, his metal-tipped talons clinking on the hardwood floor. "Double vodka. Neat!"
Very loud, that one.
The bartender, for his part, flinched slightly and pulled out a tumbler from the shelf behind him for the bird, leaving her Soju sitting woefully on his workspace as he mixed the bird's demand. She's being skipped.
That won't do.
"Excuse me." She leaned over, the chair creaking underneath her as it tipped back, and tapped the countertop. "My drink, please."
The bird stopped, feathertips a few inches away from the glass. A single gimlet eye stared at her appraisingly.
The three teens were seemingly frozen in place, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Very quietly, the bartender filled her glass.
"Thank you." She fished out a few coins for his troubles, and turned back to her compatriots.
Behind her, the falcon's complexion took on a very interesting look of rage, and he pushed down, forcibly straightening her chair with a clunk and pitching her forward just enough for her drink to spill.
She looked back, meeting his glare eyepatch to eyepatch.
"Yes?" Was this one important or something? Up close, the eagle medal on his chest looked absurd.
"I have not seen you around before." he drawled, his tone right on the edge of anger.
She blinked. "Well, I have."
"Oh? And what brings you to Zootopia?"
"The chaos," she responds without missing a beat.
She can practically see the gears turning in his head. The rage grinding against the low cunning, slowly being pushed down by opportunism. "Ah heh heh heh! Asserting your place on the food chain, hmm?"
He was waiting for her to say something so he could cut her off. Instead, the beat passed, and he continued on before another smaller, fatter falcon reached up and whispered something to him.
"Oh? Responsible for the sabotage in Savannah Central last week? Two stores were burnt to the ground and the desertification systems have been damaged."
She stared insouciantly at him. Did he really expect her to tell him? "I haven't been around there all day."
"Hmm." he said, not disapprovingly. "Very well! I'll inquire no further. We all have our secrets, ey?" The falcon stalked back to the bar and drained his glass in one gulp. Back to brooding over the great eternal war of civilization against…who was it again? Someone or other.
As Von Talon stalked away, it occurred to her she was missing something.
"I really don't know how you do that. Like, that's Von freaking Talon."
Should she ask?
"I thought he was gonna kill you!"
No, there's no point; she'd just forget it tomorrow regardless. But that's what makes it fun, isn't it?
"Still, you should show him some more respect. He's fighting for us!"
The shrew, the leopard, the vulture. She did enjoy playing with them.
Perhaps she'd even remember their names, by the end.
==
Fennec let out a low growl as he stalked down the street, only for a passing beaver to cringe away fearfully. He closed his eyes in frustration. The hell was up with that chick?! People were just walking down the street and throwing away other people's food now?! Had the 'preds' finally decided that 'prey animal' just meant anyone shorter than them?
He let himself fume for a few more moments before he released the tension with a sigh.
Of course it had to have been another fox. Just for a little extra gut punch.
On paper, the situation sounded so absurd that it was almost hilarious. Had it happened to someone else, some other time, he'd probably be laughing in their face. Now, though, it felt like just another reminder of what this city had turned into. The day his quiet little hustle got torn apart, and the rest of the city followed.
He looked up at the graying towers and biodomes around him, wondering who was supposed to be keeping them clean. He remembered them being shinier.
Unsurprisingly, he thought, it had all started the day the cop showed up.
==
"Oh! Mr. Doofenshmirtz! Thank you so much for coming!"
Your first impression of Mayor Bellwether reminds you of the fairy tales story books that were occasionally thrown at your head as a child. An almost sickeningly cute white sheep, one that barely surpasses your gangly knee in height. She's dressed in a black suit pressed to perfection and without a speck of lint to be seen, somehow. Her wool is snowy white, cut into something like a bun or a pompadour atop her fuzzy head. She beams at you with an enormous smile dripping with enthusiasm.
"Oh, hello there!" You say, bending down in order to shake the woman's hand. "Well, it's not often I get dinner invitations from major political figures. Or in general. So of course I just had to come!"
"Well!" She says with a breathy enthusiasm that would remind you of a doting aunt if you'd ever had one. "It's always an honor to have an honorary predator like yourself making the trip to our city. I want to do whatever I can to further the cause of harmony. Raised by ocelots! And so far away from South America too. Truly inspiring."
"It's a, uh… nice city you have here." you say slightly awkwardly, not wanting to tell her that the place has seen better days.
"That's very kind of you to say, but I think we both know that's a liiiiiiitle off the mark." She says, giving you a gentle grimace. "We've got blizzards in Savannah Square and Tundra Town is melting into a flood in Little Rodentia. Unfortunately, due to some recent… brain drain… our ability to maintain our own climate technology is failing. We simply don't have the educated workforce anymore to manage it ourselves. Zootopia's seeing a lot of problems right now, and I think that you're one of the best people to help us."
You're about to ask what she means when she grabs you by the hand, an action only made possible by your pronounced slouch, and tugs you insistently forward. "Ohhh, but enough about my infrastructure woes for now! We're here for dinner and you probably haven't eaten since you stepped off your plane. Let's get dinner first, and then we can talk business!"
Privately, you're grateful. Without Roger or Mirage to back you up, you're not all that great at big time negotiation. But that's what your bean counters back home are for! All you have to do right now is be your endearingly charming self, eat a polite dinner, and get the basics of the job on paper. As Mirage told you several times, you don't have to give an answer on the same day.
Bellwether leads you down the polished floors of city hall, polished to a mirror shine that reflects your own visage back at you. She looks astonishingly tiny against the antique furniture and pictures lining the walls. Framed portraits of important officials, all of them different species. Lions, tigers, and bears stare balefully down at you as you pass, their gazes as cold as the air conditioning as it rattles through the leaves of the artificial plants. Eventually the sheep comes to a stop in front of a pair of carved oaken doors, pushing one open with several seconds of concerted, groaning effort from her minuscule frame. The lacquered wood groans gently as it slowly pulls itself over the plush carpet underneath.
"I should really get those things balanced…" She says offhandedly, in an attempt to play off the obvious exhaustion.
You're tempted to try and calculate how she could do that with so little leverage, but you're distracted when you walk into an opulent conference room. The drab trappings of a generic city office are nowhere to be seen, dressed up instead with landscape paintings, a fine wooden table, and a rich plush rug. You can't help but feel a sense of impending doom as you look upon the multiple place settings with a terrifying number of knives and forks. You look out the window and see a storm front building over what you thought was supposed to be Sahara Square. Your phone dings with a weather warning for mudslides.
"Just take a seat anywhere, it's fine!" Bellwether insists as she hops up onto a tiny chair set on top of a much larger chair at the head of the table. "And our chef will take care of everything you could ever want." She nods at the dog in a chef's hat waiting next to the door.
Awkwardly, you take a seat and politely pick at your salad as Bellwether begins to talk. And talk. And talk. She yammers on and on through the appetizers, keeps droning through the soup and the main course, and continues her diatribe all the way through coffee and dessert. The woman, while quite pleasant, is pretty chatty. She goes on about Zootopia's history, its districts, its people, and its industries, painting a long and noble history, probably for some sort of complicated diplomacy reason you're too science-y to understand. You actually do manage to get words in edgewise here and there, but the woman talks like she's expecting to be interrupted every other second. For the most part you're content to just sit and let her talk. The food you're given is very good, and you really wouldn't notice that it's all plant-based if the chef wasn't proud of pointing it out. Eventually, over a pair of very nice tiramisu made with imported chocolate, she gets to the point.
"So, it's like this. Zootopia lives or dies on its climate system. We have animals from almost every biome in the world here, living and working in the same space. That diversity is what makes our city great! But it can also be a weakness. Every district needs its biome to remain comfortable for the people living there. We need regular maintenance on our climate systems to make sure they stay functioning. They're a marvel of engineering, but no machine can keep working without its engine grease. I need someone with a degree of expertise in large-scale climatoforming. Unfortunately there's… basically no one on the market with that sort of knowledge. Magma Industries is the closest, and they went exclusive months ago. So, next best thiiing: you! I know that Mendel-Gruman had considerable experience with more small-scale environmental engineering prior to your purchase, and if I'm not wrong, you've been sitting on some more advanced technology in the same field. I don't want to presume, Doctor, but given your role in the arrest of, ahem, Emperor Stanley, I imagine some of his technology may have found its way into your hands?"
"Uh, just a second." You say, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a set of cue cards. You flip through them for a moment before settling on one with an "aha!
"Ahem. 'I can neither confirm or deny our involvement.'" You reply with a satisfied smile.
"Uh- right." Bellwether says after a moment. "Well, I can understand trade secrets. And I think I can sweeten the deal with a few of my own. Now, you have to understand Doctor, as an elected official, I do have a budget to keep to. I can't exactly move heaven and earth to earn you the sort of enormous returns I'm sure your subsidiaries grant you."
"Probably." You reply happily.
"But, I think I do have something you might be interested in: That very technology." she says, spreading her hands wide.
You pause with your fork halfway to your mouth. "Could you ah… explain?"
"I'm willing to give you full rights to Zootopian climate technology, Doctor." Bellwether replies. "No strings. It's not doing us any good right now. All I ask is that you develop your own terraforming technology; if you haven't yet. Then, in return for a continued contract to maintain Zootopian infrastructure, I can provide you everything we know. Blueprints, theory, top to bottom. I'm privatizing the whole shebang. Of course, I will pay you enough to make a profit, after expenses. And it would be such a boon to our city! I'm sure the goodwill of the whole state will remember that it's Doofenshmirtz-" her smile falters, very slightly, but her voice redoubles enthusiasm to make up for it- "Evil Incorporated that did it for them."
==
Overall, that dinner went… well? You mean, the third course was a little disappointing, their potato soup was pretty bland, but overall you think that you might have made some real progress here! Sure, the government doesn't like you too much, but you're more than happy to take their money! And build something for someone else too, you guess, much as you wish it were true you can't just get money for nothing.
You decide to walk down the streets for a bit, trying to relax after your meal and kill time before your hotel check-in. Despite the majority of the population being anthros, you can see a couple humans here and there, most minding their own business, some milling about the street corners or walking into shops. Zootopia is a pretty weird place in all, and you're not quite sure what to make of-
Your thoughts are cut off as a falcon nearly as tall as you are alights on a nearby bench with a loud chunk, fixing you with a steely gaze. The predatory bird is thin and wiry, decked out in a bizarre outfit consisting of a lot of leather and shiny medals, some of which look like tiny skulls. Just as you're about to say something he cuts you off when he opens his beak.
"Doktor Doofenshmirtz." he begins in an accent so thickly German that part of you is convinced he's putting it on. You get the sense that he is attempting to loom, but is not quite pulling it off. "I am Günstling, and I haff been asked to deliver a message for you from General Von Talon himself."
"Uhhhh…" you begin, unsure of what to say. Creepy falcons usually didn't drop out of the air and try to talk to you apropos of nothing!
"Do not fall for ze sheep's makinations! She puts on ze kindly face but her kindness is ingenuine. She seeks nothingk more than ze subjugation of all predator-kind! There is nothing 'honorary' about your status as a predator- humans are ze most fearsome predator alive! You are meat eaters, through and through."
You notice that a lot of people have started backing off, giving way to a ring of anthros in what you have to call military…what was the term Vanessa used? Cosplay, that's it. Military cosplay. They're kind of dressed like the bird in front of you.
"Whoa, whoa, wait a second. First off, she was really nice! And second, all she wanted to do was get me to repair those climate systems. What's the problem with that, huh?"
"Nothingk! Repair ze climate control. The volk vill appreciate a comfortable living space. But do not be tricked by ze mayor! No matter what she might say she holds a silent knife to your throat and vill betray you at ze first-"
It clicks together.
"Hey, wait a minute! I recognize your demeanor! You're a Nazi!"
"Vhat?!" The falcon actually sounds affronted. "Ve are not Nazis! Ve are entirely unaffiliated vith zer movement!"
Someone sniggers. The falcon glares around, trying to pinpoint the culprit, but you have his number now, and you're not going to let him being distracted distract you from your primary distraction!
"Ohhhh no", you declare, "After that one dream I had with the guy with the red face I know how to recognize Nazis. You know, it was really weird, he said he had a sister who married Drusselsteinian and now she was dead to him, which I mean fair, but also that's me agreeing with a dream-Nazi. Eugh."
"Kriegsfalken eez only koncerned with ze well-being of predators everywhere, and ze inzidious efforts of ze government to oppress and ostracize zem! Our people once stood at ze top of the food chain, to be reduced to zis oppression is far, far beneas us!"
"Uh… huh." You reply, skeptically.
Behind him, one of the people in uniform, that fox from earlier, quietly slips his wallet out of his jacket as he goes on about how totally not a Nazi he is. Strangely, no one else seems to notice. You consider warning him, but on second thought you don't really like him that much.
The fox winks at you before slipping back into the crowd, a shimmer trailing in their wake.
Huh.
"Ze point. Doktor Doofenshmirtz," Oh right, the guy's still talking. "Is zat you should take care who you konsider a friend in Zootopia! And beware of prey animals in high places." Man, you sure wish you didn't have to talk to him.
Oh wait, you don't.
You press a button on your wristwatch, and your power armor pops out from your belt, unfolding in a cheerful take-that to the laws of physics into a three meter tall exoskeleton.
"I'm going to walk away now!" you insist.
"You could always do zat!" The falcon tried to sound declarative as you walked away, but there was a lilt of confusion to it.
"Okay yeah bye." You say, trying to sound less confused than you are. It seems like Zootopia has problems. They're not your problems, though. Unless you change that.
===
You've met with the mayor of Zootopia, Dawn Bellwether! She seems like a really friendly sheep who offered to pay you for doing some repair work in her city, and boy, does the place really need it. Everyone you talked to seemed to like her, except that weird Nazi falcon, but what does he know, right?
Kriegsfalken has publicly infiltrated Zootopia and has caused the tensions in the area to rise dramatically! Infiltration DCs increased by 20, Collaboration DC increased by 10. (This is partially Kitsune's fault.)
Bellwether has offered a Collaboration Action: Stewardship
Restore Zootopian Climate Systems
DC 125 (increased by Kitsune)
Special Requirement: Must attempt research of Greco-Roman Terraforming in the same turn.
The massive climate systems that control the various divisions of Zootopia are beginning to break down. They need to be mended, and Bellwether has decided you're the ocelot for the job.
Outcome: Gain +1 Income from Zootopia, slight public opinion increase, moderate Zootopian opinion increase, gain access to Zootopian Climate Technology (allows for medium-scale active alteration of outdoor climates at a high- but not impossible- energy cost.). Zootopian Climate systems are repaired and will be maintained by DEI for the foreseeable future.
Should DEI decline, Zootopian opinion will decrease. The general public will not care much about this.
Accept the collaboration?
[ ] Yes
[ ] No
If the collaboration is accepted, you will be expected to attempt the relevant actions next turn. Failing to do so will be seen as a breach of contract and will result in severe penalties in Funds and opinion, much as anyone else would receive if they breached one of your contracts.
There is a 12-hour moratorium on voting.
Infiltrate Kriegsfalken national action unlocked.
'Red' has been charged with and escaped arrest for jaywalking, two counts of attempted arson, six counts of destruction of private property, one count of sabotaging government infrastructure, four counts of arson, and thirteen counts of harassment.
Last edited:
weredrago2
"Cowabunga, Shadow the Hedgehog..."
- Location
- Florida
New cards!
I wonder what the three airplanes on talon's card mean? Extra martial when in the air?
AProcrastinator
You can Certainly Try
- Location
- Getting Somewhere
- Pronouns
- She/Hers
Oh, so Zootopia's bad bad.
Mojave
BWAAAH
- Pronouns
- He
Things have to get worse in Zootopia before they get better. I don't think Von Talon is actually interested in equality. He's interested in predators being at the top of the food chain again. I think, if anything, we should reach out to Zaibatsu and ensure they don't uphold Bellwether's Apartheid state. That said, their DC is probably even higher considering they don't have Greco-Roman tech. "Their agenda is nothing short of terror."
Maaaaybe we infiltrate the Kriegsfalken and attempt to subtly change their organization's ethos, but I'm not sold on Agent F's ability to do that unless "And Put a Stop to It!" triggers
Maaaaybe we infiltrate the Kriegsfalken and attempt to subtly change their organization's ethos, but I'm not sold on Agent F's ability to do that unless "And Put a Stop to It!" triggers
- Location
- USA
Ah. That weird carrier pidgen movie.
I thought that's where the hawks were from but couldn't remember if it was Disney or not.
Was that ww1 or ww2? I can't remember. In the movie they may have been nazi.
I thought that's where the hawks were from but couldn't remember if it was Disney or not.
Was that ww1 or ww2? I can't remember. In the movie they may have been nazi.
Hm, if we did the collab, it occurs to me that we could build our own Zootopia in Utah? with blackjack and hookers
As I recall, WWII, so...Nazi might actually be right here.
As I recall, WWII, so...Nazi might actually be right here.
Last edited:
Mojave
BWAAAH
- Pronouns
- He
We could also do this if we didn't do the collab, to take on the mass exodus of animals fleeing Zootopia.
Certainly, but it would be easier with access to the tech used to build it in the first place.
- Location
- USA
I'm absolutely fine saying yes to the collaboration.
Both sides are in favor of it. One sides just warning us that the other is secretly evil.
It gets us income, good will, a excuse to research terraforming, a new tech, and a in to zootopia. Probably reductions on infiltration since we would have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there.
And it would help innocent people as well.
Someone's going to do it and profit from it. Might as well be us.
Both sides are in favor of it. One sides just warning us that the other is secretly evil.
It gets us income, good will, a excuse to research terraforming, a new tech, and a in to zootopia. Probably reductions on infiltration since we would have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there.
And it would help innocent people as well.
Someone's going to do it and profit from it. Might as well be us.
- Pronouns
- He/They
Man, it seems like this is really a harmless thing to collab on. Sure Bellweather is a horrible secret racist but honestly it seems like fixing the systems is necessary for everyone in Zootopia. Although now I'm starting to ponder how she could use that repair to secretly further advance her own agenda...
I'm sure she'll try to infiltrate DEI.
- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Infrastructure
What lies before you Heinz is not EVIL it is WRONG.
So she's this flavor of immortal.
And that's why he has super-rabies.
Oh this movie. I watched a bit of it, only remember being confused (I was tiny).
Insert meme
What? No wait. What? You don't.
[] Bird Punching
I want the goodies but ugh.
If we have to do it next turn, it's more or less an instant dealbreaker
1. Between this and Olympia that most likely locks in our stewardship actions
2. It also costs a learning action, and we'd either have to put off Dino's or ODI
3. It also means we'd have to bank on Monogram being free in order to do the retreat if Olympia is also Stewardship.
1. Between this and Olympia that most likely locks in our stewardship actions
2. It also costs a learning action, and we'd either have to put off Dino's or ODI
3. It also means we'd have to bank on Monogram being free in order to do the retreat if Olympia is also Stewardship.
Mojave
BWAAAH
- Pronouns
- He
Yes, both of the villains are in favor of it. Someone might be able profit '1' off of it in exchange for two medium DC actions. We're the only ones with Greco-Roman Terraforming. We have Zootopia in a vice grip here. Someone's facing a Learning action of at least 100 and a stewardship of more than 125.
Zootopia is in a vice grip here and their offer isn't anywhere near worth it. 1 income and a technology we don't need in exchange for two national actions?
Lab_Accident
A 2D 1D4
- Location
- Your dreams
Ooh, so Bellwether screwed herself over by turning a significant part of the city's essential infrastructure specialists into ferals? This is Doofenshmirtz levels of self-defeating.
So... Predator superiority nazis. Got it.
Valliant? Here? But are they just anthro expies or is their movie canon to this?