[X] The Hoover Villas sound interesting. According to the map, there's even a church there, the "Fifth Christist Church of Our Lord."Might be worth a look. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the Western Pravoslavniks.
[X] Maybe it would be better to look for the esteemed Mayor Juhel. Explore around the Government District; see if you can find him in one of the big buildings. It'll be a good chance to get acquainted with the levers of governance here, at any rate.
[X] Maybe it would be better to look for the esteemed Mayor Juhel. Explore around the Government District; see if you can find him in one of the big buildings. It'll be a good chance to get acquainted with the levers of governance here, at any rate.
[X] The Hoover Villas sound interesting. According to the map, there's even a church there, the "Fifth Christist Church of Our Lord." Might be worth a look. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the Western Pravoslavniks.
No, I'm afraid I'm not making any plans to return to the city any time soon. It seems Uncle Wickter is needing me more and more ever since we started our little project in the basement of the Union Headquarters.
Also, "Miss Sadako"... the very same Sadako Iwanaga from the previous choice? Should we be worried that Mariyah associates with Yakuza, knowingly or unknowingly? Does Miss Sadako appreciate Maruyah's line of work for its aesthetic qualities, or is there a more grounded interest at play? Something to look into.
Wait, if both Miss Sadako and Comrade Ferdy are here and are not our friends... does that mean that Inspector Coleson is also around here somewhere? Nothing braces a bureaucrat more than knowing that a Special Investigation Unit detective could be around and keeping an eye on them!
P.S. Are you still single? A young man was recently inducted into the workshop floor - he served aboard the IAS Spirit of Freedom as the Captain's mate, and he's quite animated, lively, and cultured. He reminds me of you. I know you hate navy men - really, I do - but this one's different, I promise you. There's nothing military about him. I'm sure you two would make a great pair. I'd love to introduce you two. He's a good catch, if I dare say so.
Why, are you single? Otherwise why do are you pushing him on us instead of keeping the good catch, huh? But seeing how your name is still the same it was since University days, I guess it's unlikely.
"Excuse me! 'Scuse meee! You! With the uniform? You wouldn't happen to be from the city, would you? I'm looking for someone - a Clarissa Fisher?"
[...]
"No? You aren't? Are you - you carry yourself like an official, is all, forgive me for - "
"I work for the Railway MP, mister. May I please get to my desk?"
You'll find no better secretary nor bureaucrat this side of the East Continental, miss! I've worked for Central Labor for so long that the uniform's kinda become part of me.
What did you do to end up here, Isaac? Us, we pissed off someone high up in the military. Somehow I am getting the feeling you may be overselling yourself, or are otherwise hiding an important fact from your biography.
You arrive at a long, columned, brick building surrounded by other brick buildings - this must be some sort of government district, you realize. Isaac ushers you inside, his heaving and straining becoming more and more apparent. The building itself is eerily quiet [...]
Oh no, Clarissa, don't go in there! That's how you end up with projectors flashed in your face and get stuck in your memories as they are being slowly rewritten!
"You know, it's kinda funny. Neo-American is supposed to embody the egalitarian, socialist virtues of our forefathers, yet you aren't the first person who's thought that!" Isaac laughs.
Isaac, have you ever wondered why your language has expressions like "sleeping like a Founder", which seemingly do not mean the sound sleep of an honest working man? Just thinking aloud.
Then again, if Clarissa describes the taste of a chocolate cookie as "decadent"... do we need to know how honest working men live around here?
Yes, it is such a shame that the Mayor is not around and can't control what we are and aren't allowed to see. We are defanged as it is with the limitation of only being able to act "at the discretion of the local authority", so what is he afraid of? I wonder if some of the "unreasonable expectations" he was worried about might be very reasonable for an outsider to have. Like questioning why the unions and Yakuza are working in tandem.
Curiously, there's a whole section of the Outer Wards that's been scratched out - a location far from the city itself, where the contour lines indicate there must be some sort of big canyon, or maybe a river. You can sort of make out the word "CAV" and maybe "RDAM", but the rest is illegible. Peculiar. Even more peculiar is that your friend Mariyah's Craft Union HQ is quite clearly demarcated right next to the scratched out bit of the map.
Scavengers? You know, if you wanted a section of the map to not attract attention, you probably shouldn't scratch it out. It doesn't make the location itself go away. So who did that and why? My first guess would be that the section was made unlivable, or dangerous, or changed too much since the map was printed, but I am not sure what to make of the Craft Union HQ being active right next to it.
Alright. We are definitely not waiting for the Mayor before we take a look at the city with our own eyes. And the Government district is probably the cleanest section of the city. That makes is a choice between a seedy bar, and a church.
[x] The Hoover Villas sound interesting. According to the map, there's even a church there, the "Fifth Christist Church of Our Lord." Might be worth a look. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the Western Pravoslavniks.
Oh, the Railway Military Police! I heard that was a new thing the Railway Union's Congress came up with last year. Think my brother's a petty lieutanent for'em, actually. The Rails MP was the RUC's solution to the proliferation of crime in the outlying rail stations - it was either them or CominSec, and Clock knows CominSec has their crummy little fingers in enough things already.
Regardless, it's one of the more... controversial additions to the RUC's purview, for obvious reasons. Don't know how to feel about it, myself. Bad things happen when honest, humble union workers try'n dress 'emselves up like military boys and girls. But if it's to spite the central government, well...
Can't say I ever seen an RMP officer in the flesh - they only get assigned to waywards townships, and all city railway administration and security is handled by federal workers. I'm not sure if our uniforms are all that similar - but civilian and civilian-military uniforms are cut from the same cloth, so to speak. Wouldn't be too unreasonable to mistake one for the other.
You are asking the *wrong* lady, darlin'. I ain't ever set foot outside the Metropole since the -
Well, I ain't ever set foot outside the Metropole, and I can tell you most Founderist movements took root out in the hinterland towns and stayed there. My family - my real family - they never did have anything good to say about them Founderists, but I could never personally understand the animosity. Guess their traditions just don't meld well with ours. A darn shame, that is. I quite like the stories they tell, even if some of them are kinda outlandish.
[X] Look around the Freeman's Square. Maybe you can find a good place to get a drink, or some sort of high-end kitchen. You're starving, after all.
For reference, you will be visiting all locations mentioned previously (and even quite a few more!) eventually. This choice merely determines whom you meet first - and changes some DCs down the line.
The building is old, dingy, and the wood supports have yellowed out with age. Little vines of wheat poke through the wood panels, and a big stalk snakes through one of the lower foundations. Outside the doors to the bar, an old man with graying hair nods at you through the earthy smoke of his marijuana. He offers you a polite smile, before his gaze settles on some point in the distance. Electrical wires, strung up by a nearby pole, wind together to light up a big neon sign mounted to the front that reads in big, garish letters:
~ THE RED MENACE ~ Bar & Grill
You feel the weight on your shoulders lessening a little. This place seems nice.
The inside of the building smells humid and fruity. You hear the gentle hiss of a deep fryer somewhere, along with the clinking of silverware and shot glasses.
"Miss Sadako? Is that you, darling? I—Oh, you're not her, are you?"
The barkeep is a spindly, older woman with a distinct Western accent, her hair tied up in a bun. She pushes her glasses close to her face. "No, indeed not. I could have sworn—please forgive me, stranger! You look so similar."
"Apologies for ruining your expectations," you say, looking around awkwardly. "...I was hoping to grab a drink?"
"Ah! Of course, of course. Come, sit by the bar, stranger! It's a sin to drink alone."
You take her up on her offer, glancing at the bar patrons seated near you. Other than a few curious looks, none seem to pay you much mind. The barkeep pulls a switch on a large, copper keg, and, with the rumbling of clockwork, reddish purple liquid starts sloshing into the mug in her hand.
To your surprise, the barkeep's already pushing it in your direction. "Really, you're too kind. I, erm—I don't keep much hard money on me. How much...?"
"For a newcomer, the first drink is always free." The lady gives you a gentle smile. "You can always visit the RUC bank later if you want more."
Ah. So the Railway Union runs the banks here. Good to know. You pick up the glass mug and peer at its contents. "This isn't a cocktail of Purpleberry wine, is it? I have had too much of the stuff. Too sweet, for my liking."
"Ah! The color—it is misleading, is it not? Believe it or not, this is just beer—made from redwheat, of the Mehlanic variety. A rarity in the metropolitan coast; quite common out here." Her smiles widens. "I do not give out wine for free, oh no. For that, you will have to pay."
"Better for me, then. Wine and champagne have never really been my thing."
Somewhat hesitantly, you bring the mug to your lips and tip it upwards. The drink fizzles on your tongue, warming you up as you gulp it down. It's very sour, and leaves a tangy sensation in your mouth. You shiver, satisfied.
"This is a fine brew you have, Miss."
She bows her head. "I'm flattered. I truly am."
"Not as strong as I'd like—but that just means I'll have to have a few more, no?"
"I like your enthusiasm!" The barkeep smiles. "Though, I wonder what kind of alcohol you're more used to."
"Never had Pravlandic liquor, have you?"
Something flickers in her expression. "I can't say I have."
"Well." You feel a little grin creeping onto your features. "We don't like to water down our alcohol, you see. Can't grow grapes or hops out there, and we never were rich enough to import it, so I suppose we've developed a taste for hard liquors. The first time I had a shot of vodka, well…"
You giggle.
"It set my throat ablaze, barkeep. It felt like swallowing sunlight. They say that, for Pravlan liquors, the main ingredient is the burning of the throat, with the taste a mere side dish."
"Swallowing sunlight, you say?" She laughs. "I might have to see for myself, some time."
"If not for the Curtain, I'd be more than happy to ferry some from home for you." You notice that the barkeep has already refilled your mug. The reddish, swirly drink is looking very appetizing - but you decide to temper your thirst, for now. You ask, "Did I ever get your name?"
"I do not believe so. How rude of me! Pyeong Willis, sister of Laris Willis, and co-owner of the Red Menace. He runs the kitchen, and I run the bar. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?"
"Fisher. Clarissa Fisher."
"Ahh. You have a lovely name, Miss Clarissa."
"Why, thank you."
You're about to say more, but one of her patrons asks for more beer, which the barkeep is more than happy to provide. You take a short drink, eyeing the rest of the bar. Somewhere in the corner of the room, a tall, white-bearded fellow has started plucking a six-stringer, and his friend is singing along. You nod your head to the music, close your eyes, and dream you're in the teahouse in Primorye again.
You're startled slightly when a newcomer takes a seat next to you. Short and a little plump, with a young face, you could almost mistake her for a university student. "P-berry mimosa on the rocks. And gimme a twist, please."
...yep. Definitely a university student.
The barkeep's voice becomes light and singsong. "Well, if it isn't the fine lady from the Constabulary! Back again, are we?"
"...oh, ah, well." She looks somewhat embarrassed. "I, uh… ran out of work to do. Again. You know how it is. Haha…"
"This one can't really hold her alcohol," the barkeep says, turning to you. "So I've always got to dilute her wine with something mild and sweet. Otherwise she'll be a-stumblin' out my doors a giggling mess, and my dear brother'll have to pick her up, lest she get lost on the way home."
"H-Hey now! I'm not that bad." She turns a little red. "...don't listen to her, stranger, she's like the snake in the garden, whisperin' you sweet nothings and lies to get you to bite from the forbidden fruit."
The older woman smiles. There's a glint in her eye. "And yet here you are, in the serpent's den, partaking in the serpent's drink. Silvalleian or Columbian?"
"I'm feeling a bit adventurous today."
"Columbian it is, then. Buvez de façon responsable, mon cherie."
"Yeah, yeah." The younger woman waves her off, and the barkeep returns with her glass of cold, purple spirit. Her eyes linger on you for a moment. "...who are you, again? I haven't met you before, have I?"
"You have not, ma'am; I am now. Clarissa Fisher, at your service."
"Oh! You found work at the Varghas Strip, then?"
"No."
"...here on vacation?"
"Nope."
"...airship crew?"
"I have never set foot inside a dirigible, unfortunately. Though I'd like to."
"Never set foot in a dirigible!" She looks affronted. "What kind of Ambernian ain't ever set foot in a dirigible?"
"One who is afraid of heights," you reply, sheepishly.
"Well." She takes a sip from her wine glass. She regards you inquisitively. "...government contractor."
"Of a sort." You smile.
"Knew it!" Her eyes light up. "Come here to fix the damnable plumbing, have you? Clock knows it could use some work."
"I'm afraid that's outside my purview."
"...darn." She shakes her head. "So... you like it here?"
You look around, and consider your surroundings. "Yes," you say. "It reminds me of home."
She looks confused. "Where did you grow up?"
"The Pravlands, friend. It is a big, cold tundra. Very rural."
"Ahhh… " she giggles. "That's far from here, I bet. Ain't every day I get to meet a pretty foreigner."
"A pretty foreigner?" Your heart flutters a little. "You're quite pretty, yourself. Like a pasqueflower, a delicate but bright."
"...oh!" Her gaze turns indignant, defensive, and she turns away from you. Your cheeks start to burn a bit.
You offer an apology: "I'm sorry, did I offend you?"
"N-No!" She insists. "I - I was just - I… I got surprised, is all."
She sips from her wine, and you take this moment to sheepishly scoot away. You never did have the best of luck with this kind of thing. You take a nice, long drink from your mug, and you feel a little better.
A glass clinks against the counter. You hear a sigh.
"Simran."
You blink. You turn to the girl to the left of you. "I'm - I'm sorry?"
"My name is Simran." She gives you a little grin. Her eyes are coffee-colored; she has dark freckles. "It is nice to meet you, Miss Clarissa."
"Oh." Your cheeks are on fire - No. No. It's probably the alcohol. "Likewise."
Yet one more newcomer arrives at the bar, this one sitting to your right. He's a doughy, stocky man with a relaxed face. "Hey, sis! Kitchen's finally empty. Ya have any beer left?"
"That I do," Pyeong smiles. "Do become acquainted with the new girl, Clarissa, here. She's an out-of-towner."
"That right?" The man regards you curiously. "Well met, then, Miss Clarissa! You musta gotten off the Hermes."
"Indeed. It was quite a trip."
"Damn right it was quite a trip—old Hermes has served this town for years! Haha!" His laughter is like a roar, drowning out all other sounds in the room. "You must be starvin'. I have a few leftovers in the kitchen." He notices your expression, and answers your question prematurely: "Free of charge! I need to get rid of it, anyway. If no one eats it it'll probably go to the pigs, 'n lord knows they eat enough already."
Your stomach growls, and you look down, embarrassed. "...at least let me pay in credit in the future, lest I gain the reputation of being a leech. Your kind sister has already waived the price of my beer."
"Your first mug of beer, darling," the woman corrects you, smiling.
"Credit? What am I, a banker?" The man laughs again, and lifts himself up from the table. He disappears into a back room, and when he emerges, he's carrying a plate of grilled tumorporc, still steaming slightly, over a base of what looks to be mashed potatoes. What catches your eye, however, is a few clumps of verdant greens to the side of the meat—a rarity in this country.
You fumble with the fork, but you successfully take a bite of the meat and potatoes. Your tongue sizzles with foreign spices, and the porc itself is quite tender and savory. You try and corral some of the greens into your fork and mix it with some of the mashed potatoes. The greens are... depressingly bland, but the potatoes are warm and creamy.
You didn't realize it, but by the end of your fifth bite, you have this very stupid smile on your face, and your face is warm with satisfaction. The chef—Laris—is staring at you, gauging your reaction. He seems pleased.
You wolf down a big slice of porc, and burp, sighing. "...next time, I am paying. You deserve no less."
His eyes seem to sparkle. "That's - that's wonderful! Hopefully there'll be plenty of next times, eh? As a matter of fact, do you think you could stay for the evening? I have a few other leftovers I'd like you to try—no, no, I'm not making you pay for leftovers—as an out-of-towner, I bet you'd be more willing to lend me some criticism, yeah? Sometimes I feel like folk round here can be too nice. I'm sure you're a bit more discriminating with your culinary palette - how did you feel about the collard green substitute? It's quite hard to emulate the - "
"Brother. Dear. Don't scare the newcomer away. Besides, she's clearly here first and foremost for the alcohol."
"You can drink and eat at the same time, can you?"
"Yes, but the more she eats, the less room she has for drinking. And I had her first."
"You can't claim ownership fer this kinda - "
Somewhere, a church bell rings. The six-stringer stops his song abruptly, out of respect to its toll. You suddenly wonder what time it is - you glance outside, and realize that the night has come. It blankets the world outside with its cool embrace.
You remember the Mayor, and how you're probably shirking your duties to him by being here. You think about Mariyah, and how you'll need to wake early in order to make it to her tomorrow.
You think about Isaac, and wonder if he'd appreciate his boss throwing away her free time. You wonder if you might be making his job more difficult.
And you think about the money you're supposed to be wiring home. You've missed a few payments already.
"I... excuse me. I may have to leave soon."
"So quickly?" Pyeong asks. "What for?"
"I... may have to attend a meeting with someone. F-For my contract work." You glance over at Simran, who's sipping her wine, looking back at you curiously. "The local mayor, you see, he... wanted to see me."
"...oh." The barkeep's eyelashes flicker, and for a terrible moment you think you've been found out.
...but she says nothing.
"Ah - whether or not yer meetin' the Mayor later - what's the harm in stayin' a little longer?" Laris says.
"Juhel is a regular here," Simran offers. "It's not unlikely that he'll stop by here, anyway, on his way to you. And even if you miss your appointment, we... we - we all know each other, around here. We can find a way of making sure the fault lies with the snake over there, and no-one else. I'll make sure. If it comes to that."
"I object to being called a snake," Pyeong says, wearing her serpentine smile, "but, putting that aside, I must concur. It does a girl like you no good to run yourself ragged. When was the last time you've let yourself relax?"
You burp, and realize you've just downed your second mug of beer. And that you're feeling just a little tipsy.
"I... well. There was a time, a few weeks ago, in a seedy little bar below the tarmac. Though that was mostly business..." Shit. Your mind's already starting to slip. How long has it been?! You're no lightweight. You know that.
"Exactly." The barkeep smiles. "Why not have another beer? Treat yourself."
"Or!" Laris claps his hands together. "Or, I could grab something from the kitchen... "
"...what is that, three beers?" Simran looks at you, and all of a sudden she's concerned. "Wait. I take what I just said back. Maybe you should head home now - while you, uh. Still can."
...oh, that does it. The cute one thinks you can't handle a few extra beers. You're a Pravdan girl, aren't you?! "Miss Pyeong!" You push the mug towards the barkeep. "Fill me up, please."
"Oh. Are you sure?" She asks. Her smile's a bit too wide.
You look her in the eye and declare, "Does the sun rise in the morning?"
"Hey now, Pyeong, don't do this to her, you snake, you… you…"
"Shh, shh, darling. You drink your wine." The barkeep pushes another mug in your direction. She fills a mug herself, and raises it up. "May your coming herald new times and new horizons for this little town. To new horizons."
You have no idea what that means, but you're more than happy to oblige her. With the clinking of glass, your mug collides with hers. "To new horizons!"
Laris whistles. "Oh no," he says, chuckling.
"Oh no," Simran agrees, taking another sip of wine.
The next couple of hours go by in a blur. The six-stringer's song informs the movements of your body; you're swinging around and around in the bar, meeting with patrons, talking animatedly. You lose focus, and somewhere between your third and fourth mug of beer, you stop counting. People are ambivalent about you - at first. But people are quick to forget your status as a newcomer and suspicious foreigner in the dead of the night, influenced by the drink and the song.
You vaguely remember thanking the barkeep graciously for the alcohol, and giving away far too much of your hard money as payment for the beers. The lights are too bright; far too bright. The sky is filled with stars, and right here, right now, everything feels… right.
Somewhere between the door and the moon, you pass out.
<><><>
"There, there… don't strain yourself, now, Director. C'mon, baby steps. Up you go…"
There's a horrible roaring in your head. Everything feels woozy; your stomach hurts like a bitch; even your vision has gone to shit.
"Aww, you poor thing. No better than yesterday evening… hang on! I know something that'll get you right up."
The voice, mercifully, leaves you, and you're left to your own thoughts for a bit. The peace is fleeting, however. Too soon, it returns.
"Here, Director. You can feel your hands alright, can't you?"
A strong, bitter scent invades your senses. You choke on the air, and thrust yourself awake. "Kakogo-?!"
You regret it immediately; your headache comes at you with a fury, and you're reeling back from the pain.
"Easy! Easy, easy…" You recognize Isaac standing over you. He's holding a cup of coffee close to your face. "Don't overexert yourself; you'll regret it."
"I… already do. Fuck, it hurts…"
"It'll get better, just… lie back down."
You groan, and do what he says. You peer at the boy. "...didn't I tell you not to act like my manservant, Isaac?" you say weakly.
"Well, it ain't like ya left me with much choice…" He chuckles. "Mama didn't raise a slacker, and it'd be downright malicious neglect for me to leave my boss incapacitated. Speaking of… would you care for some coffee?"
He moves the cup closer to you, and you get a good whiff of that strong bitter scent again.
You smile. "Gladly. Thank you, Isaac."
"Not a problem at all, Director! I hope you like Dixie beans." He laughs, and straightens his glasses. "...so you missed the Mayor last night."
"I did? Ow—" Your headache roars
"Yes. He came by waaaay in the late hours of the night, though—I guess he had urgent business to take care of first? Wasn't at all surprised that you were already fast asleep." He gives you a sly grin. "I told him to leave you alone, at least for a little bit. Said you'd had a long, bumpy ride; that you was sleepin' off the trainlag."
"Ah. I appreciate that, Isaac, I really do."
"Ain't nothin'! Just, next time you plan on gettin' shitf—ahh, I mean, wasted at the Red Menace, let me know ahead of time, yeah? Help me help you." He gives you a little thumbs up.
"Is that… something you did a lot, in your previous job?"
"Yep." He nods his head vigorously. "Nothin' like a little white lie, a half-truth, to keep everything peaceful, yeah? Sometimes the boss gotta get drunk every now and then—and the boss's bosses don't need to know that."
"I will try not to make a habit of it." You sit yourself upright, and stretch your arms.
"...didn't take you for a lightweight, though." He giggles. "That's what Miss—erm—that's what I heard, anyway. N-No offense, of course."
You feel like you've been punched in the gut, but you suppress the urge to argue the point. "...I am not. But I will have to prove that to you—to myself—some other time, I suppose. Anyway!"
You force yourself to rise from your bed. You've recovered from worse hangovers than this. This is fine. Everything is fine.
No, you're not in denial.
"I think today's a good day to get some business done, don't you think, Isaac? Where's this Mayor, anyway?"
"Ah! As a matter of fact, he's in a meeting with the Wrys family over in Black River—"
"Wrys?" Your ears perk up. "As in, Wickter and Mariyah Wrys?"
"Why, yes! Old Wick runs the union and his daughter Mariyah's the head engineer - you know them?"
"Indeed, I do! I was hoping to visit them today, actually. We should go—"
"Hold up, hold up!" Isaac laughs. "I admire your energy, Miss Clarissa, but we gotta lotta shit to unfuck first, don't we? I MEAN—" He turns pale, before looking to his left, to his right, and then to you. You tilt your head. He blinks.
"Are you alright?" You ask.
"Yes." He readjusts his glasses and shakes his head. "Let me try that again. We got a lot of stuff to unpack. Clothes, personal furniture, all that. Then there's the housekeeping - this building is a mess, and there's a buncha offices we need to clean out, not to mention the pigsty of a lobby we got here. That's gonna take… at least a week? Maybe two? And that's between the both of us!"
"I…" You deflate slightly. "...I suppose."
"And!" He slaps a small, stapled sheet of papers on your desk. "The Mayor had a plan for you, even if he ain't here to give it to you himself. An itinerary, of sorts. He wanted you to visit the pillars of Hooversdamian society! Think you already hit one of the hot spots - the Willis's bar-and-kitchen is practically the center of town—but there's always more places to visit. Not to mention, you'll prolly wanna know where the saloon and the cleaners and the corner store and the bank are. You'll be visitin' them often."
"...there will still be time to visit the Black River Craft Union, though, right?"
"Of course! We got a whole week ahead of us, Miss Clarissa. We got plenty of time. Plenty of time. And, while y'all's makin' the rounds, I can go ahead and start workin' on the census Central Labor wants you to do…"
"A… census?"
"Oh. Forgot to mention. Central Labor sent a missive this morning requestin' population statistics—something about gathering data for the committee to make final decisions regardin' rural subsidies and labor reallocation. You don't need to worry about that!" He puffs out his chest, proudly. "I can handle all the lower level busywork, Miss Clarissa. It's my speciality! And, of course, I'll make sure to write you a proper report once the census work is done. Imagine you'll find that information useful."
"What if I want to help you, anyway?"
"Well…" Isaac scrunches his nose. "I can hardly tell you no, can I? But… you should prolly budget your time for more important matters, Miss Clarissa. Your economic jurisdiction spans all of Hooversdam!" He gestures outside.
...what?
You don't have time to ask him to elaborate - the kid's already moving kilometers ahead of you. "Oh! Speaking of - Mayor Juhel told me to tell you that, if you can find the time, you should try and attend a session of the Worker's Assembly this Thursday. He… wants you to see just how things are run around here."
His tone gets strangely dark. "...or, better said, how they ain't. But that's no business of mine." He seems to perk up almost immediately. "Now, you should know that debate hall's only open to the public on the first and last weeks of the month. Miss Clarissa! I gotta question for you. What week of the month is it?"
You blink. "The first. Obviously. New year's was only a few days ago."
"Ding!" He grins at you. "Well, then, I hope I don't have to tell you that your window to attend one of these meetings is pretty slim! Now - c'mon, after you finish, you've got a long day ahead of you."
"Right, yes, yes..." you bite your lip. Just what have you gotten yourself into? "...before we start, though, Isaac. Sit with me. I want to watch the sun rise."
"Oh?" He seems to hesitate—his eyes scan the room, restlessly, like he's looking for someone to tell him no. "T-Then, uh..."
"That's an order, Isaac," you say, softly, giving him a cheeky grin. You have a feeling you said the right thing; his eyes light up, and he reciprocates your smile.
"That right? Then, by all means—lemme, uh, lemme make some coffee for myself, first, then, ahah," he says, excusing himself quickly.
<><><>
Downtown Hooversdam seems to be taking a liking to you... (Effects unknown)
Clarissa's Stress has decreased! (-25)
It is the First week of January, 1970 MAC
Pick 3 actions. Actions are not repeatable unless said otherwise.
Free
Free Actions are good ways to work on self-improvement, decrease stress, or build trust with the locals. Because Clarissa Fisher is a functioning adult and not, to give a totally random example, a vaguely Japanese highschooler with social anxiety (and gray hair), she does not have to worry about "failing" casual social interactions or basic personal projects. Unless specified, free actions will not roll attribute dice. As a tradeoff… more often than not, they are not a good use of your limited time.
[] Go visit...
-[] ...Mariyah Wrys, who should be at the Black River Craft Union; you are absolutely dying to see her again. And maybe you'll bump into this Mayor fellow?
-[] ...Isaac. It's good form to know your subordinates better, isn't it? His welfare is yours, after all.
-[] ...Miss Willis, to have a nice conversation about why its rude to inebriate and indebt your friends.
-[] ...Mister Willis. Maybe he can help you get a better feel of the town.
[] Spend some time...
-[] ...setting up your typewriting console. You may be blacklisted in the, ahem, "professional" journalistic world, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to put your thoughts to paper. (+INT, ++CRE, relieves stress)
-[] ...finding space for your old martial arts dummy so you can wack that fucking thing with your boken. Maybe you could tape a photograph of the MilCom union boss to the head to give you extra inspiration for your men form. (+COU, +PHYS, relieves stress)
-[] ...drinking at the bar, because you are not about to be caught out as some sort of... lightweight. Your honor depends on it. (+CHA, --INT, -PHYS, extremely greatly reduces stress)
Influence
Influence Actions are actions that allow Clarissa to ingratiate herself with, and manipulate, the people, institutions, and pillars of Hooversdamian society, for good and for ill. Managing the relationship between these institutions will be crucial in the years to come. Dice determines performance.
First impressions matter!
[] (INT, DC 35) Introduce yourself to the residents of the Federal District. You've noticed a distinct lack of government presence in town. You wonder where all the bureaucrats and police officers and politicians are.
[] (CHA, DC 50??) Introduce yourself to the petit-burghers of Downtown Hooversdam. Thankfully, the people here are already aware of you, so it shouldn't be too difficult to make your rounds and take in this region's problems. Some of the nice folk you met yesterday might even be happy to show you around. If you can remember their names.
[] (CRE, DC 50?) Introduce yourself to the people of Artisan's Row. It seems to be populated by craftspeople, tradesmen and skilled laborers; in other words, your kind of people. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a feel for the area.
[] (COU, DC 50) Introduce yourself to the downtrodden souls of the Hoover Villas. Built out of what used to be Hooversdam's Charcoal Belt, this place is a slum, and unfortunately it is also where most people who can't find housing downtown live.
[] (PHY, DC 50?) Take a few days to walk beyond the city limits and into the Outer Wards, to visit the homesteaders and smalltime farmers of the periphery.
[] (INT, DC ???) Attend a session of the Assembly. You can't say you aren't interested in learning about the town's inner politics… (Will not be available for another few weeks if not taken)
Bureaucracy
Bureaucracy actions typically advance an agenda or make progress on some project. As of right now your options are limited to personally investing your time, but in the future, you may have to devote time to merely managing your bureaucracy, should it grow too large. And it will.
[] Personally invest some of your time towards a bureaucratic project.
-[] (PHYS) Seek What Sparks Joy. Isaac has recommended that you work together with him to clean out your rooms, the hallway you share, and even the lobby on the first floor, all of which have been sorely neglected. While cleanliness being a sign of predestined divinity is reactionary garbage, it is an objective fact that one's surroundings determine one's conduct. (Progress: 0/200)
-[] (INT) The 1970 Census. Orders from above; they want to know how many people are living in Hooversdam, with a standard deviation of, oh, maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand people. Census data will be extremely helpful for the bean counters over at Central, or so they say. (Progress: 0/???) (Isaac seems oddly insistent that he's allowed to do this alone?)
My two cents into the options: I'd say spend time with either our best friend Mariyah or get to know Isaac more. Probably the former. No need to destress yet.
For Influence actions, aside from the few INT and CHA actions (which are low-hanging fruits waiting to be picked up) ngl I'm tempted to go for that bottom one. It's a time-limited event anyways so....may as well?
Putting aside our low PHYS, the first Bureaucracy option ain't bad. Or we could ignore Isaac and proceed to help him. Tempting, but maybe not yet, might need to settle down first.
-[] (INT) The 1970 Census. Orders from above; they want to know how many people are living in Hooversdam, with a standard deviation of, oh, maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand people. Census data will be extremely helpful for the bean counters over at Central, or so they say. (Progress: 0/???) (Isaac seems oddly insistent that he's allowed to do this alone?)
[X] Plan: To Serve The Underserved
-[X] ...finding space for your old martial arts dummy so you can wack that fucking thing with your boken. Maybe you could tape a photograph of the MilCom union boss to the head to give you extra inspiration for your men form. (+COU, +PHYS, relieves stress)
-[X] (COU, DC 50) Introduce yourself to the downtrodden souls of the Hoover Villas. Built out of what used to be Hooversdam's Charcoal Belt, this place is a slum, and unfortunately it is also where most people who can't find housing downtown live.
-[X] (INT) The 1970 Census. Orders from above; they want to know how many people are living in Hooversdam, with a standard deviation of, oh, maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand people. Census data will be extremely helpful for the bean counters over at Central, or so they say. (Progress: 0/???) (Isaac seems oddly insistent that he's allowed to do this alone?)
I don't trust Isaac. At least not enough to let him muck around with something as important as a census unsupervised. I doubt he's evil but I'm still getting flashbacks to irl.
I also want to start out by getting to know the people who fell through the cracks in society. Knowing the conditions of those the system works for the least is the best way to figure out how to fix the system or make it better. The martial arts is in support of that, since it boosts Courage and we need Courage for this action.
[X] Plan Building Foundations & Impressions
-[X] ...Mariyah Wrys, who should be at the Black River Craft Union; you are absolutely dying to see her again. And maybe you'll bump into this Mayor fellow?
-[X] (CHA, DC 50??) Introduce yourself to the petit-burghers of Downtown Hooversdam. Thankfully, the people here are already aware of you, so it shouldn't be too difficult to make your rounds and take in this region's problems. Some of the nice folk you met yesterday might even be happy to show you around. If you can remember their names.
-[X] (INT, DC ???) Attend a session of the Assembly. You can't say you aren't interested in learning about the town's inner politics… (Will not be available for another few weeks if not taken)
I think we should play to our strengths first before we tackle some of what we are lacking. Also that Mariyah option kinda hits two birds in one stone where we get to see our bestie, and I want to see what kind of guy our mayor is gonna be about.
Helloo! Just wanted to let you know that I fixed a really embarrassing error--there was this query mark in the original draft meant for editing which I forgot to get rid of. Now that its fixed, no one will ever know where it was.
It looks like there's still a tie, so... if anyone wants to be a tiebreaker, I'm just saying, the floor is yours! Vote will be closing tomorrow evening, uh... gimme a sec to remember how the timestamp function works.
EDIT: Alright, wow, you can automate vote closures, now? Niiice. Vote end has been set for tomorrow at 10 PM EST. There should be a thingy at the bottom that tracks the time, now.
The building is old, dingy, and the wood supports have yellowed out with age. Little vines of wheat poke through the wood panels, and a big stalk snakes through one of the lower foundations. Outside the doors to the bar, an old man with graying hair nods at you through the earthy smoke of his marijuana. He offers you a polite smile, before his gaze settles on some point in the distance. Electrical wires, strung up by a nearby pole, wind together to light up a big neon sign mounted to the front that reads in big, garish letters:
From the description this looks like one of the chillest places this side of the Desert. Total idyll that even the invasive wheat stalks are unable to break. They even got working neon lights; I wonder what those are for. Practically speaking, you have this kind of advertisement to attract the attention of passers-by who would otherwise... well, pass the place by without knowing it was there. Something that is much less of an issue for a small rural town that doesn't see a lot of newcomers. Or much traffic at all.
Maybe it's part of the Neo-American vibe they seem to be going for. They are awfully proud of their heritage... or what they consider one.
Still not seeing where the bar's name comes from. What is so menacing?
The barkeep pulls a switch on a large, copper keg, and, with the rumbling of clockwork, reddish purple liquid starts sloshing into the mug in her hand.
[...]
"For a newcomer, the first drink is always free."
The drink fizzles on your tongue, warming you up as you gulp it down. It's very sour, and leaves a tangy sensation in your mouth. You shiver, satisfied.
Naturally. Because nothing worth mentioning ever happens in Hooversdam, eh, Constable?
That's why one of our contact/friend options was a yakuza smuggler. What was her name, Sadako Iwanaga? Wait, is that the one the barkeep mistook us for?
Suddenly the man smoking marijuana outside makes a lot more sense. I don't think they grow it locally? Know anything about that, officer?
It's either a very small town that the mayor, a constable and a yakuza are regularly getting drunk in the same bar, or the workings of local economy are a bit more complicated than we are led to believe by official reports.
Well, if you exclude the climate (aren't we bordering a desert?), the flora (Pravlands didn't get invaded by giant wheat), the half-Mihokujin culture, and the lack of a sea for hundreds of miles in any direction, they have a lot in common!
"Well, it ain't like ya left me with much choice…" He chuckles. "Mama didn't raise a slacker, and it'd be downright malicious neglect for me to leave my boss incapacitated. Speaking of… would you care for some coffee?"
[...]
"Yep." He nods his head vigorously. "Nothin' like a little white lie, a half-truth, to keep everything peaceful, yeah? Sometimes the boss gotta get drunk every now and then—and the boss's bosses don't need to know that."
The practiced ease of his treatment is frightening. I mean, we should be grateful, but...
Okay, so you have a history of covering up less-than-proper conduct by your bosses. Duly noted. Please keep updating us on your take on working ethics!
Also, I may be forgetting, but didn't he use to work directly under the Mayor? Simran did say Juhel was a regular in the bar, so that at least explains how Isaac got to be that smooth. But who then would be the boss' boss that doesn't need to know? I don't think there is anyone in this city above the Mayor... or anyone who cares, for that matter. Is he talking about his job before he got promoted exiled to this middle of nowhere?
"...didn't take you for a lightweight, though." He giggles. "That's what Miss—erm—that's what I heard, anyway. N-No offense, of course."
You feel like you've been punched in the gut, but you suppress the urge to argue the point. "...I am not. But I will have to prove that to you—to myself—some other time, I suppose. Anyway!"
Oh no! The stain on our HONORU is unbearable! We must redeem ourselves and prove our worth. Off to the Red Menace again!
How else will we earn a reputation of not only a lightweight, but a drunkard?
...it still admittedly stings to be called that by a girl who, by the barkeep's admission, can't hold her alcohol. How much do these people drink?
"And!" He slaps a small, stapled sheet of papers on your desk. "The Mayor had a plan for you, even if he ain't here to give it to you himself. An itinerary, of sorts. He wanted you to visit the pillars of Hooversdamian society! Think you already hit one of the hot spots - the Willis's bar-and-kitchen is practically the center of town—but there's always more places to visit. Not to mention, you'll prolly wanna know where the saloon and the cleaners and the corner store and the bank are. You'll be visitin' them often."
Hmm, a pre-planned itinerary to give us a certain impression of the town? Normally I would be wary of such things, but we are not a passing Inspector who won't be there come next morning and only sees what people want them to see. It'd be much harder to fool us... but I suppose we could be introduced to the right people and be incentified to see things their way.
Maybe I am being uncharitable here.
Also, wait, they have a saloon? Isn't it the same as a bar? I didn't expect a small town to have several of those; these folks must really love their beverages.
It is the First week of January, 1970 MAC
[...]
[] (CHA, DC 50??) Introduce yourself to the petit-burghers of Downtown Hooversdam. Thankfully, the people here are already aware of you, so it shouldn't be too difficult to make your rounds and take in this region's problems. Some of the nice folk you met yesterday might even be happy to show you around. If you can remember their names.
[] (CRE, DC 50?) Introduce yourself to the people of Artisan's Row. It seems to be populated by craftspeople, tradesmen and skilled laborers; in other words, your kind of people. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a feel for the area.
[] (PHY, DC 50?) Take a few days to walk beyond the city limits and into the Outer Wards, to visit the homesteaders and smalltime farmers of the periphery.
[] (INT, DC ???) Attend a session of the Assembly. You can't say you aren't interested in learning about the town's inner politics… (Will not be available for another few weeks if not taken)
First, what time scale are we operating on? It's the first week of January, and Isaac says that some events are only available on certain weeks. Is it weekly turns, then? Does it mean that if we miss the Assembly session now, we can go visit them at the end of the month, on Turn 4?
Second, what do various colors mean? If I had to guess, green ones mean "probably easier than the DC", and the number of question marks shows a deviation meaning the more green question marks there are, the easier the task may be -- but that's not a guarantee. Respectively, red marks must mean "harder"? Do we know what the complication factors are, or is it the point of question marks that neither modifiers nor their sources are revealed? But then some of the actions have them written in plain text.
Is there a reason why the Assembly is all red? I suppose we have no idea and can't even estimate what we don't know, but... why the color?
Right, about the vote. Sorry for double posting, but I think I'll split it into another post.
Not sure if there is much point to it, making a new plan 3 hours before the cut-off, but here goes.
[] Go visit...
-[] ...Mariyah Wrys, who should be at the Black River Craft Union; you are absolutely dying to see her again. And maybe you'll bump into this Mayor fellow?
We don't know anyone else in the city, besides Isaac and the Red Menace owners, and we probably shouldn't go back there again so soon after making a spectacle of ourselves.
[] Spend some time...
-[] ...setting up your typewriting console. You may be blacklisted in the, ahem, "professional" journalistic world, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to put your thoughts to paper. (+INT, ++CRE, relieves stress)
-[] ...finding space for your old martial arts dummy so you can wack that fucking thing with your boken. Maybe you could tape a photograph of the MilCom union boss to the head to give you extra inspiration for your men form. (+COU, +PHYS, relieves stress)
Either would be good, but we are doing fine on Stress. I think we should polish our journalistic skills; they may come handy if it comes to investigative journalism and interviewing people. Fighting skills also wouldn't be out of place, but that can wait until we know if there is anything dangerous in town we should be wary of.
Indeed. We should get to know people; introduce ourselves to the town. I propose we take the majority of our actions from this set for the first few weeks.
[] (INT, DC 35) Introduce yourself to the residents of the Federal District. You've noticed a distinct lack of government presence in town. You wonder where all the bureaucrats and police officers and politicians are.
[] (CRE, DC 50?) Introduce yourself to the people of Artisan's Row. It seems to be populated by craftspeople, tradesmen and skilled laborers; in other words, your kind of people. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a feel for the area.
[] (PHY, DC 50?) Take a few days to walk beyond the city limits and into the Outer Wards, to visit the homesteaders and smalltime farmers of the periphery.
These are all of interest to me. I want to know what the police are doing. How many officers are there? They don't seem to be overworked, but is it because the place is quiet or because it is made quiet?
I want to know what drives the local trade. It's one of our direct responsibilities to make the town prosper.
Checking the food supply is important (are we self-sufficient? why do they have to come up with substitutes for greens?), as is finding out what hides behind the scratched out section of the map.
I think I am fine with skipping the Assembly on our first week. There will be later turns, and we may want to get some context for what troubles the city, to understand why nothing gets done by people who are supposed to run it.
[] Personally invest some of your time towards a bureaucratic project.
-[] (PHYS) Seek What Sparks Joy. Isaac has recommended that you work together with him to clean out your rooms, the hallway you share, and even the lobby on the first floor, all of which have been sorely neglected. While cleanliness being a sign of predestined divinity is reactionary garbage, it is an objective fact that one's surroundings determine one's conduct. (Progress: 0/200)
-[] (INT) The 1970 Census. Orders from above; they want to know how many people are living in Hooversdam, with a standard deviation of, oh, maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand people. Census data will be extremely helpful for the bean counters over at Central, or so they say. (Progress: 0/???) (Isaac seems oddly insistent that he's allowed to do this alone?)
I think unpacking, tidying up and setting up the office should be one of our priorities. Even if it doesn't have any mechanical benefit, it's simply what you do when coming to the new office. And it certainly seems like it's going to be an ongoing project spanning at least 3 weeks, if we are supposed to fill the progress bar with d100.
I believe we can afford Isaac handle the Census which is done for the sake of the bosses above. Whatever he is doing with it, he won't be able to hide things from us who are on the ground. If anything is amiss, and something almost certainly is, we can take proper measures then, up to and including our superiors if need be.
I don't think it is a good use of our time to look over his shoulder; we don't know how the town is run, and lack the experience to tell the right numbers from wrong on our first week. All it'd do is make him more nervous and expend more efforts on concealing anything incriminating which he will probably succeed in -- at least, initially. We should strap ourselves in for a long haul, and just observe for the first few months, without risking to accidentally break things we may not know how to put back together.
So, my plan would look something like this...
[x] Plan: Easy does it
-[x] (INT, DC 35) Introduce yourself to the residents of the Federal District. You've noticed a distinct lack of government presence in town. You wonder where all the bureaucrats and police officers and politicians are.
-[x] (CRE, DC 50?) Introduce yourself to the people of Artisan's Row. It seems to be populated by craftspeople, tradesmen and skilled laborers; in other words, your kind of people. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a feel for the area.
-[x] Personally invest some of your time towards a bureaucratic project.
--[x] (PHYS) Seek What Sparks Joy. Isaac has recommended that you work together with him to clean out your rooms, the hallway you share, and even the lobby on the first floor, all of which have been sorely neglected. While cleanliness being a sign of predestined divinity is reactionary garbage, it is an objective fact that one's surroundings determine one's conduct. (Progress: 0/200)
First, what time scale are we operating on? It's the first week of January, and Isaac says that some evens are only available on certain weeks. Is it weekly turns, then? Does it mean that if we miss the Assembly session now, we can go visit them at the end of the month, on Turn 4?
Oh if I had a nickel for every time I had to explain the Modified Amberrish Calendar to a foreigner...
Alright, so all calendar systems, even the fascist reactionary ones, have seven days to a week, 52 weeks to a year, since we all know it takes sun 364 and a fourth days to revolve around the earth. Folk who wrote up the MAC thought it would be nice to have those weeks standardized instead of jumbled all over the goddamn place, so each standard month gets exactly 4 weeks, and starting in January, every third month gets an extra. That tallies up to a nice, clean, 52.
To answer your question, the end of this month would fall on Turn number 5.
Why don't you read a book or something, Clockdamn...
Second, what do various colors mean? If I had to guess, green ones mean "probably easier than the DC", and the number of question marks shows a deviation meaning the more green question marks there are, the easier the task may be -- but that's not a guarantee. Respectively, red marks must mean "harder"? Do we know what the complication factors are, or is it the point of question marks that neither modifiers nor their sources are revealed? But then some of the actions have them written in plain text.
Erm, I can answer that, though, since you're so curious!
(Heheh. Just because Nev's my editor doesn't mean I'm always forthright about actually telling him things lmao)
Question marks are just signs of challenge ambiguity. They mean Clarissa herself is unsure if the DC for that given action is actually correct. Green means she things it might be easier, red means she thinks it might be harder. She isn't going to always be right about this, of course, and sometimes her self esteem or stress might cloud her judgement.
In general, for actions that have DCs, I'm going for standard DC levels of: 0 - 15 - 35 - 50 - 75 - 85 - 100. For example, for the following option:
Article:
[] (CHA, DC 50??) Introduce yourself to the petit-burghers of Downtown Hooversdam. Thankfully, the people here are already aware of you, so it shouldn't be too difficult to make your rounds and take in this region's problems. Some of the nice folk you met yesterday might even be happy to show you around. If you can remember their names.
If Clarissa is correct about her assessment of this action, then the DC goes down to 15. A cakewalk, in other words. And you might surmise she thinks this way because after having more than a healthy amount of drinks with them she figures she's become close friends with a bunch of people from that bar already.
Of course, for the sake of fairness, I'm not going to not put a little '?' indicator in front of a Dice Challenge if there are, in fact, circumstances which will change the DC. That'd just be mean.
